#but also there was a still a small part of you that romanticized the thought of falling in love even if you set that aside when you rose to

[pizzazz-party]

there's a very elaborate and fake tradition that i invented for the InaAme arranged marriage au that still depends upon the strict binary of contemporary gender roles that are native to UY. but re that last post i reblogged now im wondering if Tomoe officially goes by Lord Tomoe after the wedding

[esote-rika]

A bookstore meet cute I wish I could experience | Spencer Reid

Category: Fluff with S4 awkward, nerdy rizz Spencer

Warnings: use of Y/N, unedited (tenses keep shifting, sorry)

A/N: this is just 1.8k words of self indulgent self insert. Like this is inspired by some unpleasant experiences I've had talking with men about books in the past lol, and reader's responses defensive responses had been me at some point. i feel like a conversation with Spencer Reid would heal me, thus this fic. Also, save me, s4e9 Spencer Reid, save me.

He seemed like a fixture to the bookstore, if fixtures moved on their own. Or if they moved up and down the aisles with elegant fingers tracing the spines of the books on display. Or if they dressed like a rumpled professor, complete with the black rimmed glasses. He just seemed like he was part of the space, and you thought that every bookstore should probably come with one - a tall, attractive nerd who drifted all over the room like some sort of phantom. Maybe that would help with the literacy problem. It certainly would bring more people in, make them more interested in reading.

You've been trying to figure him out from afar, as subtle as you can. You're not a creep, after all, but he cuts such a lonely figure that you couldn't help but wonder if he needed some company. A part of you wonders if he's noticed you as well. This store is your late afternoon treat, after all. You come here every Friday, without fail, even when you know the inventory is unreplenished, simply to bask in the presence of books.

And then he started coming in regularly, and you had another reason to come.

You never approached him. Something about simply knowing he's there, while remaining a stranger, is thrilling. You can romanticize him if he's a stranger, project all the wholesome fantasies and book boyfriends you have upon him with no sense of accountability.

It also means you avoid the disappointment if he turns out to be another condescending know it all, eager to put you and your reading habits down because oh your tastes are so girly.

No, this was better. You're a flaneur, you tell yourself, you're here to be part of the space and observe from within, even though you doubt this is what Baudelaire had in mind when he wrote that essay and defined the term.

Still.

You smile to yourself, crouching down to check the books on the lower shelf, and also to catch a glimpse of his legs. He'd been on the other side of this shelf for the past five minutes, and you've gotten a soft chuckle when you saw his mismatched socks.

However, his lean form is nowhere to be seen. He seems to have moved to another aisle. With a small frown, you move to stand up, only to feel a tug.

“Shit,” a quick glance down reveals that a familiar looking shoe has accidentally stepped on your long skirt. You hadn't realized it billowed out around you when you knelt down.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!”

You look up and realize why the shoe looks familiar. It's him. You couldn't see him in the other aisle because he'd moved to your side, so silently you hadn't even heard him.

“Sorry, oh gosh, I didn’t notice.” He steps off quickly, and you watch as his cheeks bloom bright pink. A pink that quickly travels down his neck.

You stifle a laugh at how easily he blushed. “It's fine.” Your attempt to stand is more successful without his foot pinning the fabric of your skirt to the ground.

“I've messed up your skirt though.” He says, looking at the brown smudge left behind on the skirt.

“It's no big deal, it’ll come out.” You shrug, getting a good look at him this time. He's taller than you thought, with a sharp bone structure that's softened by large, hazel eyes and pouty lips. His hair is slicked back, curling at the nape of his neck, the color a soft brown that matches his eyes. Yeah, one of him should really come in every bookstore, you think.

“O-okay, uh, if you're sure…” He says, rubbing his hands on his pants. A nervous energy emanates from him, disrupting your idea that he's calm and tranquil.

Oh well, there goes that fantasy. Still, you wonder if maybe he's nervous because of you.

“I still feel bad though,” He adds, looking around, “Uh, how about I buy you a book for the inconvenience?”

“It's hardly an inconvenience,” You laugh, “But hey, I won't say no to a free book.”

He perks up, “Great. I'm Spencer, by the way.”

“Y/N. It's nice to meet you, Spencer.”

He repeats your name, and you find yourself enjoying the shape his mouth makes as he tests it out, lips and tongue wrapping around the syllables as if he wants to commit the way it feels in his memory.

You mentally kick yourself in the ass, wondering if you've read too many romance novels.

“Likewise,” He smiles, and you have to remind yourself that it's rude to stare at the lips of someone you just met. It's not your fault he has such pretty dimples, and you had the urge to count them. He continues, “So what kind of books do you like, Y/N? Romance?”

Your eyes narrow at that. You wonder how to answer. Yes? Would he judge you if you say yes? Is he one of those guys, the ones who only read heavy, intellectual books and look down on people who read fluff? Do you want to try and impress him by saying no, by scoffing and saying something like of course not I’m looking for a copy of Swann's Way by Marcel Proust? (which is the most “impressive” book you can think of at the moment). The idea seems too gross, too I'm not like other girls, and you immediately cross it out.

“And if I do?” you ask instead, surprised by the edge to your voice.

He blinks, then shrugs, looking entirely innocent. “Then we should head to the romance shelf over there.”

Once again, you're surprised. Some part of you had been expecting a smirk, maybe a roll of his eyes, that look you get when you even dare to bring up the romance genre. But, no. He starts walking to a different part of the store and you're forced to follow.

“Why did you think I read romance?” the words escape your lips before you can stop them.

He ducks behind a shelf, his hair falling down and hiding his face but you get a glimpse of the bright red skin of his neck. He's blushing again.

“Well, it's - ah - that is, I've noticed you here before, and you always seemed to hang out here in the romance section.” He says in a rush, his head still angled away from you.

You feel simultaneously called out, and a little giddy. So he's noticed you, just as much as you'd noticed him.

“So you're a stalker.” You can't help but tease.

He lets out a sound, somewhere between an indignant sputter and a scoff. “What? No! I just happen to be very observant, it's a skill I've learned to hone for my job, and you're not very hard to remember-” He cuts himself off, peeking at you with a horrified look on his face.

Laughter tumbles from your lips, and you clamp your teeth down your bottom lip to stop.

“I was teasing you.” You say, trying to fight the giggles.

He seems relieved, but the crease on his brow remains, a sign of his previous embarrassment.

“And you're right. The romance section has the biggest amount of secondhand books that I can read while I'm here.” You explain. This aisle also gives you the best view of the nonfiction section, which he frequents, therefore giving you the perfect spot to observe him over the past few weeks. Though you leave out that part.

“Ah,” He nods, looking around, “See anything you like?”

“No, I'm actually looking for a copy of The Hobbit right now.”

He lights up, “Oh, you're a fan of Tolkien too? I love him, he's such a genius and completely innovated the fantasy genre! So much so that he - wait, if you're looking for The Hobbit, why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“You just started walking.” You reply, smiling at him. He's adorable when he becomes so animated, hands waving around like his body can't contain his excitement and has to find ways to express them physically. “Had to follow you. But anyway, I'm assuming you've read The Hobbit?”

He accepts your explanation easily, then nods his head. You can't help but compare him to a puppy, so eager and nearly frantic in his excitement.

“I've read every Tolkien book.” He says, and you're surprised to find his voice contains no hint of superiority, or cockiness. Just genuine joy. It's refreshing, “Including The Silmarillion."

“Oh wow,” You laugh, aware of the reputation that tome carries, “I've only seen the Lord of The Rings movies.”

“Well that's not sufficient at all! You're missing out on so much history,” He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Mhm, well help me find The Hobbit first, before I move on to the trilogy.” You reply, already walking over to where you know the fantasy books are.

He follows you, smiling bashfully, “You know, I have copies of all the books… I can just lend them to you, if you want.”

You pause, glancing over your shoulder in surprise. “You'd let a stranger borrow your books?”

“Only if you promise to take care of them.” He says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“I swear on my life, I will not tarry your precious copies of Tolkien's masterpiece.” You make a cross over your heart for emphasis, which makes him laugh. This time, you stare at his lips shamelessly, enjoying the dimples that appeared from the action.

“Okay, maybe we meet up over coffee sometime?” he asks, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “I'll bring the books.”

You fight the urge to squeal. Your body refuses to contain the giddiness, and the sound compromises by coming out as a giggle.

“Yeah, sure.” you watch as he digs into his pocket, handing over a card. “Oh, how very professional.” You say playfully, accepting the slip of paper.

He ducks his head, and you see the beginnings of the blush creeping down his neck. It feels exhilarating, being able to make him blush like this.

“It's just more practical.” He mumbles.

You grab your phone quickly, typing in his number and giving it a call, so that your number goes through his as well. “I'll give you a call. But, you still owe me a book for this.” You motion at your skirt, at the stain of his footprint on the fabric.

He chuckles, “Of course. Can't go back on my promise.” he looks around the store and you're taken by the sight of him, looking like he's part of the space, like he simply belongs here. And this time, with you standing next to him, with him. “Take your pick.”

“I'm pretty indecisive.” You say playfully.

“I have time.” He smiles, and you find he has two dimples on one side of his face, and only one on the other. Your chest feels heavy with something that you can't quite put a name to yet, but you're eager for more of it.

[chlorinecake]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏’𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 — a yandere jungwon fanfic

𖤣 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jungwon forbid you from leaving the safe room while he was away at work, but your insatiable curiosities led you to discover secrets about his past that were better left unknown to you ~

𖥧 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nudity, forced-ish kissing and touching, hickeys (?), abduction themes, swearing, mentions of guns and violence, slow burn, angst, not proofread ~

𖡼 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k ~ Previously and the next part

✎ note: In no way does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. I write purely for entertainment and creative purposes. Reader discretion is advised. 

YOU LAID YOUR head down beside Jungwon to rest, your ears still ringing as a side effect from his earlier and repetitive gunfire.

Cradling the shotgun in his hands, you thought back to the way his feline eyes keened in on his desired target, the weapon going off with sharp bangs as the surrounding air shattered with its force.

Your entire skull trembled each time he fired the trigger, wooden debris flying from the collisions.

“Wanna give it a go?,” he asked with the faintest smirk on his face, somewhat amused by your startled demeanor.

Jungwon helped you position your legs according to proper form, almost hugging you from behind as he helped you support the heavy weapon in your arms. His warm breath feathered against your skin as he whispered, “Once you've locked in your target, ease your finger into the trigger and shoot.”

You remember taking a deep breath, pointing the lens at a tall wooden plank just as a baby blue bird flew into frame, the gun's red light highlighting the creature's tiny body.

You tried moving the weapon away, but Jungwon's strength persisted around you, keeping your arms in place with ease.

“Jungwon,” you said so quietly that he almost missed it, his hold on you being predatory enough to make you feel like the prey. A glint of moisture blurred your vision as the song bird tweeted softly to itself, looking right back at you.

“I want you to shoot it, ____,” he whispered in a dull voice as if what he'd just asked of you was completely normal.

“Jungwon, I... no, I... I can't,” you pleaded, his grip on you tightening.

“It'll probably die tomorrow in this weather, love. If you can't shoot a bird, how can I expect you to protect yourself when I'm gone?,” he reasoned with you before stepping away from you, the sun hiding shyly behind a cluster of clouds as if it were also fearful of the sight to come.

“Do it,” was the last sentence you heard right before the loudest gunshot yet clashed with the calm atmosphere, your eyes shutting completely tight as you felt your finger sink into the trigger, the little bird and his evening song never to be heard again.

You felt Jungwon's hands sneak around your waist as you laid under the covers, his warmth still radiating onto you as he spoke the words, “I'm so proud of you today, love,” and drifting fast to sleep.

THE NEXT MORNING came by quickly, the now recognizable scent of mixed herbs hitting your senses the moment you sat up on the bed.

Turning to your side, a cup of tea sat on the nightstand, a dainty yet old-fashioned brown paper bag sitting beside it.

“That's your breakfast, my love,” Jungwon said, breaking the silence. “I decided to stop by the café earlier and get some of those sandwiches you like. Hopefully they're still fresh,” he said from the corner of the room as he adjusted the collar of his freshly ironed shirt, admiring how sweet you looked upon waking up in his heart.

“Thank you, Jungwon, I really appreciate it,” you said with an almost natural smile, reaching for the cup of tea to take a small sip, “Is that why you got all dressed up?”

“No, actually... I have work today.”

Even though you and Jungwon had grown close with each other before took you to his garden, your prior conversations never answered the big question of what he did for a living.

“Oh... I understand that you've never told me this before, but I'm curious about what you do for work?,” you asked, looking into the warm and foggy green liquid that danced in your cup. He wasn't looking at you anymore anyway, so there wasn't a problem with you avoiding eye contact.

“Nice try, ____, but we made a deal yesterday, remember? No more questions till next week,” he smiled, finally looking your way now as he walked over to you, giving you a small hug. “I'll be back in a few hours, but you can always look out the window and do the 'sun test' I taught you. There's also lunch in the first drawer if you get hungry.”

He grabbed a chain connected to a set of keys from off the nightstand that you didn't even notice were there til now, his leather boots clicking with his footsteps as he walked away, looking back as if saying goodbye with his eyes before closing the door.

And just like that, you were completely alone, which didn't feel or seem as relieving as you wished it would.

It's not that you felt down about missing Jungwon's presence, though, it was more so that you knew today would be much longer than any other day you've spent on this secluded garden of secrets.

Even longer than the days you had spent outside under a bush, your vulnerable nakedness and the harsh forest conditions growing a stronger bond than your thirsted gums and grimy teeth.

Of all the things you had to be anxious about under such circumstances, “boredom” happened to be at the top of your list, compelling your hands to find the silver key Jungwon had so carelessly forgotten on the nightstand before he left.

Or was he testing me, you thought to yourself, observing the green string that hung from a hook in one of the key loop's.

The thought of the mysterious greenhouse suddenly dawned on you, and the memory of its glassy sage exterior captivated your mind for a second.

You remembered Jungwon's anxious demeanor as you brought it up to him, contemplating with your own logic and curiosity as to whether or not you'd give in to the voice that was pulling your feet to do the unthinkable.

The gravely forbidden.

You only had enough will power to fight the urges for a short hour before it became too much, your feet finding the cold bedroom floor as you held the key in your hand, wandering down the hallway and through the field of trees before making your way up the massive path that led to a grassy hill.

Precisely where the greenhouse sat.

Deep down in your foolish heart, you were fully aware of how senseless your actions were.

Even though you were currently suspect to many natural dangers that came with being in the wilderness whilst unarmed, the thought of Jungwon catching you right now was an even larger threat.

But somehow, you managed to climb up too far to turn back now.

Praying on the slim sliver of hope that Jungwon wouldn't come back early today, you took a deep breath, toying with the key in the lock for a few seconds before the door hinges gave in, the cold aura of the space greeting you as you stepped in to observe.

From first glance, it was an ordinary greenhouse, shelves of exotic plants lining most of the space and the gentle sun rays peeking through the domed ceiling.

Clink.

So stunned by the beauty of his indoor garden, your hip accidentally bumped into the mini wooden table standing beside a feminine mannequin, a black ink pen having fell on the floor and rolling away before you swiftly leaned down to pick it up.

You felt your heart thump in your chest like a drum, thinking of how easily that single pen could’ve given away that you’d been in here today.

Getting up, you went to place it back on the table before noticing a rough sketch tucked beneath a diary with Jungwon’s name engraved on it in hangul.

The sketch was of a dress, one ordained with elegant floral accents and delicate lace trimmings.

“Every flower ought to have petals,” whispered Jungwon’s voice in the back of your mind, warming your heart before sending shivers down your spine.

He was truly in love with you.

Dangerously, even.

You picked up the journal, not even considering what better-left-buried secrets could be hiding behind the black leather cover front.

Not even reasoning with logic anymore as you flipped past the first page, the sound of stiff, old paper crinkling the still silence.

And for the love of your damned curiosity.

Nothing intrigued you from the first few pages so you foolishly kept flipping, one by one until it became obvious that the diary was filled with unspoken love confessions you weren't meant to see, dated as far back as two years ago.

One entry in particular caught your attention, the opening line from April 11, last year, reading “Things weren't supposed to end this way.”

It appeared to be a letter to Jungwon himself, but at the same time, to another soul...

Or about another lover.

Your breath stalled in your chest, almost in denial of how quickly a new and much more horrific story was unfolding concerning the charming Yang Jungwon.

Your eyes scanned one last line before closing the diary, the note being from his most recent entry:

“To ____, my second chance... may we blossom harmoniously together.”

A series of numbers followed after that sentence, a red splotch of paint dotting a log of information you didn't quite understand at the time but the eery feeling you got was enough to let you know it couldn't have meant anything good.

Slam.

You closed the book, just as the sunlight outside began to dim with your emotions, the realization of how deep Jungwon's insanity ran wandering through your anxious mind, flowing as a dead river in a forsaken village, infecting every person foolish enough to come and drink of his stream.

You stumbled out of the greenhouse, running down the hill with your nightgown clutched in your fists, careful not to let the lower hem of your dress touch the earthy ground on your way.

Jungwon couldn't find out about this.

He couldn't know that you knew everything now.

You stopped to glance at the sun, noticing how it was just a few inches from meeting the peak between the two trees as he'd demonstrated to you before.

He was almost home, and it was beyond baffling that you'd even started to call this place that.

A home.

You finally made it back to the shed, your own lungs struggling to provide enough oxygen to fuel your limbs as you chugged the tea you'd forgotten to drink, plopping yourself on the bed with your hands holding your chest as the mere act of breathing became harder and harder.

Closing your eyes, you hoped that the darkness would somehow help you think of anything.

Anything else but the truth.

Whoever that girl was, you were certain that he'd killed her, and if you weren't careful moving forward, you could be next.

JUNGWON RETURNED FROM work on time, but it wasn't until about half an hour later that he made his way to your shared bedroom in the shed, an unreadable yet unmistakably dark look on his face the moment he saw you.

“How many more conversations must we have before my rules finally stick in your stupid little brain?” He asked in a stern voice, still wearing his work clothes, but his hair appeared different.

More disheveled... and sweaty.

“Jungwon, you just got back... Where is all of this coming from?” You inquired in the most polite voice you could muster, sitting up on the bed as your stomach felt five seconds from exploding.

Your mind was still a bit foggy because you'd just woke up, but you were still present enough to know you needed to choose your words wisely.

Did he found out? No, he couldn't have, you were barely even in there long enough to have messed up anything he'd notice.

“I need you to understand something, ____,” he said in a sharp voice, sitting beside you on the bed before continuing, “As long as you’re here with me, you’re no longer your own person. You’re mine. And that means no one else can have you. Not even yourself.”

“Jungwon, we talked about this-”

“And I agreed on one thing and one thing only… do you remember what that thing was?”

Your hands trembled in your lap as his words came out like darts, your mind too focused on fear to even keep up, “You’re not being fair-”

“Is it not beyond fair that I respect your wishes of keeping my hands to myself? Despite how crazy you make me feel?”

“I remember…. Wonie, and I appreciate your efforts to respect me,” you answered with a cracked voice as he caressed the side of your face with the back of his hand.

“And so do I,” he smiled, tilting his head at you, “but... you’re still afraid of me... aren’t you?”

You knew that Jungwon could be emotionally ambivalent at times, but you really couldn't figure out what had gotten into him today, and so suddenly.

You shook your head at his words, “Why would you even ask me something like that?”

“Because it’s true… I'm smart enough to know that.”

“Jungwon, please don't say tha-”

“God, here we go with your whining again,” he spat bitterly while shaking his head, “you’re pleading with me and I haven’t even threatened you... Just admit it! You’re fucking terrified of me-”

“I can't take this shit right now, Jungwon,” you interrupted him, immediately feeling your heart rate increase as you startled yourself with your own words.

Your own... honesty.

“I... I just… I didn’t mean to…,” you tried apologizing before he cut you off.

“No,” he said softly, getting off of the bed and kneeling before you, your words having touched a soft spot in his crooked mind, “Don’t stop, love... I want to hear what you have to say…”

Though, you’re not sure if the smile he wore was forced or not, it helped to soothe your nerves in an odd way. Jungwon’s behavior was always erratic like this. You never knew when to expect a switch in him, which is what always kept you on edge around him.

His hands massaged your ankles, the gentle yet sudden touches making you feel stiff.

“Please,” he nodded, coaxing you to proceed, despite how uncomfortably you felt with him touching you.

“Well… uhm… I was just…. I thought we were working on this... On us...,” you clarified, “...together.”

His heart lit up at your use of the word “us” as if it were a spark to the dull wick in his hardened heart.

“And we are, my love. But I must ask you to understand that you abide by my rules now,” he whispered, hands carefully inching up your calves as his thumbs drew circles in your skin, “can you trust my rules?”

You gulped at the question, fingers fumbling with each other as you forced yourself to say what he had to hear.

“I can try, Jungwon...”

“Good… and can you trust me?... Without trying?” He asked, hands halting their movements while awaiting your response.

“I…” your words got cut in your throat, part of you drifting off into a thinking that you actually could trust Jungwon. You felt like a foreign force was pressuring you to agree. Not his hands from the outside of you, but something within.

Was it the way he sat before you on his knees? The way his feline eyes stared back at yours, singing a sirenic song to your heart? Was it something in the tea you finished earlier-

“Speak up, love,” He pressed, somehow maintaining patience with you.

“I can… I trust you,” you said, looking in your lap before meeting his eyes again, which glimmered like honey.

Natures fluorescent sweetness.

“Then… can you trust me to kiss you?” He asked, voice almost inaudible given how quietly he spoke. Before you even gave an answer, you felt his warm breath ghost over your knee, looking back at you with seduction in his eyes.

He hummed in satisfaction at your submission, sealing the space between him and your knee with a kiss, his lips soft and wet as you felt the kisses travel, your gown being lifted up over your thighs as he left pecks along the inside of them, sucking slightly as if to taste you.

Your hands found his head, trying to push him away as his kisses turned into pinches, but he pushed your abdomen down, your back meeting the bed as his hands hooked beneath your knees, spreading you open for him.

“Wonie~,” you whined out, arching your back as you felt his warmth approach your clothed core, his lips kissing your sensitive spot before you whined out again. “That’s enough, please,” you said with an exhausted breath, chest heaving with emotions you couldn't even put a finger on.

He looked up to you, face embarrassingly flushed as his lustful demeanor softened into a smile, “Was I not good for you, love?”

“No, it was fine, Jungwon, I just… I had enough,” you answered with a breathy voice, the wetness from his lips still ever-present on your skin as you struggled to look him in the eye.

His sexual advances were starting to escalate by the day, and it was only a matter of time before he took the very last thing he treasured about you most:

Your purity.

“Okay, my love,” he said, pulling your gown back down and standing up, “maybe next time I can do better than fine.”

Fuck.

You simply nodded at his words, trying to calm your breathing as your cheeks grew as hot as the sun. Jungwon walked towards the door, looking back at you one last time.

“And by the way, next time you try sneaking out while I'm gone without my permission, make sure to lock the door back so I don't find out,” he said, all of that with a devious smile on his face as he closed the door, leaving you alone before going off to prepare your dinner a few rooms away from you.

☆ Thank you all so much for reading this piece! I still feel really guilty about taking so long with this update, but hopefully y'all enjoyed it !!

☆ taglist: @squoxle @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @03sunoos @kaykay11sworld @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled  @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong @j-wyoung @nikisdubblchococake @bambangan @wonbyf @4imhry @zhangyi-johee  @valhrts @lisaaannna @lovelycassy @addictedtohobi @gardenwons @nikipedia07 @tubatusoobs @03sunoos @clarisabutterfliescupcake @yevene @heecries @rosiemiayyxy @jungwonieee @edgykoo @luvmlkw @idkhoomanmaybe @sunsinmyskies @guessm0del (still didn't forget abt that collab you wanted to do if you're still interested btw) @ayadikreino @destairea @jakehooni @jjungwonss @nikilvr @jays-property @moonchus @angelicjungwon @wonniesdoll @rosiemiayyxy @rinirumi @noviadebeomgyu @pochacco-o @hapeynaaa @ikngh @maspire @mamuljji @hnnhj @legendarycowboywinnerlawyer @enhypenlovre @stxrboyjae @f4irynono @03sunoos @itwasrem @laurradoesloveu @lalalalovelalalasworld @honestimage @ro-0327 @stwberrykooki @heelvrr @wonbinisbabygurl @jungwonloveer @jungwonsmybf @kayoiw @lovelycassy @mrswolfhard3

[rununcal]

Honestly I did not know it was Trans Visibility Day but now that I do know, I made something for the occasion! I heart this insane middle-aged guy and headcannon his trans-ness as basically just an evil and fucked up version of his previous male identity. He’s a guy but goopy and scary now.!!

(Image ID: Ink Sammy Lawrence stands over the corpse of human Sammy Lawrence. His human form is laying in a lake of black ink with various compositions scattered around him. His hair is unkept and falls into the pools. His ink form seems to have emerged from this human corpse, and stands confidently with his hands crossed as if in a coffin. His mask is tilted to the side of his head and he grins a large toothy smile. Behind him is a dripping trans flag in the shape of Bendy, and behind that is a small room with the shadows of outstretched hands all over the wooden walls. End ID.)

Very unorganized rang about how he relates to gender identity (cause I thought it would be fun) under the cut!

SAMMY LAWRENCE GENDER RANT WEE

This artwork is related to Sammy and whatever I headcannon his identity to be, yes, but it is also related to me! Sammy’s definitely one of the guys that falls under the gender umbrella for me, and so I’m using him here as a sort of expression of how I feel about my own transness. A big part of my identity is body horror and metamorphosis. What is horrific to most is still horrific, but also beautiful, to me. I would love nothing better than to literally crawl out of my own skin sometimes and live life as some freaky creature. I don’t really understand it, with me just beginning my journey and all, but I can’t deny it permeates a lot of my dreams and ambitions.

Sammy reflects a lot of that for me, as you could probably figure out. I know he hates his body in cannon, but to me it just feels so much more logical that he’d love his new body as it was given to him by Bendy himself.

Keeping that change in-mind, and also keeping in mind the undertones I’m giving him, I really like how his change into his new identity is handled. It’s no smooth sailing. I mean, he gains the new identity by hitting bedrock and going insane. But somehow, it leads him to a place filled with more fervor for life than before. Despite how low a place he’s in now, he has never felt more alive. (I’m not trying to romanticize this type of sadness by the way, I just mean that a big realization about my identity came in a dark time). I think that relates to a lot of feelings I have personally about my identity, though I cannot say for others. I just think it’s real neat.

Anyways, rant over. I just wanted to try and get my thoughts out on paper besides just saying that he’s gender. Ty for reading!

[pinkexpertnerdghost]

A Rose for You!

Lyney x Gn!Reader

Pt.2 to Watch and Be Amazed!

{ Ok! Ya'll asked for it. I kinda wanted to write more in the first part but it was already kinda lengthy. As in the last part there wasn't much one on one Lyney and Reader moments. But don't fret dear [Name]! You'll be in the lovely company of this little magical menace for a tour around the Nation! }

! Some Spoilers for the Fontaine Archon Quest Act 1 and some nudges to Lyney and Lynettes Backstory/Personal Stories !

General: sfw, fluff, Grin Malkin Cat, small Freminet and Lynette cameo, Lyney being the charming little flirt he is, flustered Lyney, french, a wee bit of angst here and there towards the end,

It was a new day, and you felt refreshed. Truly, Fontaine is one of the most snazziest places you’ve ever been in. Alongside the technological advancements, there was much attention to the intricacies of decorum and an artistic romanticism in the most mundane activities. Although, the air was a bit smellier than the countryside and the stars couldn’t sparkle as brightly.

You had woken up from your slumber, the sun beaming through the thin curtains by the window. Next to your bedside was a small nightstand with a beautiful lamp and the prop card laying face down. 

You rolled a bit around in your bed until you laid on your back facing the ceiling.

Your mind wandered to the events that unfolded last evening. The colorful memory replayed in your mind like moving photographs. 

The doves, cats in hats, paper butterflies and a pair of soft lilac eyes. 

You sighed.

From the walk to your hotel yesterday, you had viciously tried to recount the events that happened. At what point did Lyney slip this note in your sleeve? And why didn’t you notice sooner?

You had trouble sleeping that night. 

Lyney couldn’t have been serious could he? It was just a part of the show, of course he would shower you with pretty words and a suave demeanor . It's part of his charming routine, nothing more. 

Then again…

Why did he whisper at you so much? Now you thought about it, you were up there for at least one two..TECHNICALLY FOUR ACTS?! Also, he stopped you after the show to talk. AND NOW HE HANDED YOU A CARD ASKING YOU OUT?! No WaIT- Not ‘Out Out’ like a date or anything, an outing as friends? Can you even call him that?! What acquaintance just requests a day to hang out together? HE ISN'T BREAKING SOME PERFORMER AUDIENCE ETIQUETTE REGULATIONS IS HE?!-

Overthinking can lead to a very unsettled mindset preventing you from getting proper rest. 

So here you were, laying like a beached seal on your bed. You didn’t bother to get up right away. Too lazy and your head was fizzed out of thoughts.

You shifted your head around, the bedding beneath you shuffled along. On the nightstand was the prop card you had found in your sleeve last night. 

You eyed the shiny piece of paper. The little red grinning cat silhouette on the backside felt like it was taunting you. Calling you pathetic as it stared at you from atop his side table throne.

Stretching your arms above your head, you finally sat up. 

You reached and picked up the card, holding it with your index and thumb. Once again you carefully read the words that were written on the front in cursive. 

 “ I hope you had a magical evening, [Name]. Meet me by the bench near the potted flowers by the station at noon tomorrow. If you show up, best prepare for I still have tricks up my sleeve that will leave you dazzled! ”

You stared at it and noticed it was written on what was a blank playing card. 

Staring at how the curved letters formulated each word you wondered. 

Meet him at the benches by the Aquabus station by noon. Did you really trust this man? Even though he is technically a celebrity, you just met him not even a day ago. 

You swung your feet off the bed, card still in hand. Stepping down onto the small bedside rug, you idled around near the window. It looked to be early morning, you’d guess around eight o’ clock. 

“ I don’t have much plans today. Other than wandering the streets and walking into what I think will be interesting.” You said, your voice a bit groggy. 

You twirled the card in your hand.

You thought carefully of what you’d do next.

“ I think he might it want back.”

Yeah, that’s it.

“I’m sorry, sir?” You yelped. You had to crane your neck a bit to be able to make eye contact? You didn’t think it had eyes, but nevertheless you made the best effort to stare into its face.

Or what looked to be a face.

 You had seen some of them walking about freely in the main city. When you were making your way towards a staircase you bumped into one. 

The robotic garde halted and nodded.

‘ Ah, so they can communicate.’

It went back to walking down the street, undeterred. Turning around after that odd exchange you went back to the matter afoot.

You were lost. Lyney never specified which station he’d be waiting in. You were almost half convinced he was going to be at the Marcotte Line; the one closest to the Opera Epiclese. Although, the more you thought about it the less likely he would be there. 

He did mention that he might be available to take you to see around Fontaine. So he must have meant the main station hub located in the main city.

Even if he wasn’t there, you’d have that station checked off the list of possibilities.

You hurried up the stairs, the small journey reminding you of the Nation of Freedom surprisingly. Although both were vastly different, they did share a similar style of building upward rather than outward. 

Reaching the top, you made your way to the station. You kept your eyes open as you scoped out your surroundings hoping to find a tall tophat. 

It shouldn’t be hard right? Someone as extravagant as him would surely stand out.

You stood corrected. It looks like many people here in Fontaine take up the fashion trend that was tall extravagant head wear. You had gone over almost every suspect bench near flora, most of them were occupied by either locals, adventurers or both. 

He didn’t seem to be near the reception or the inner waiting area. 

“ It's almost noon” you turn to look out a window, the sun is high in the sky now. 

“ If I were a famous magician with an outgoing personality, where would I be?” You muttered as you had your eyes peeled, wondering in the same space.

Your eyes followed the cheers of children. Near a bench a group of kids surrounded someone. 

“ Wow!”

“Where did it go?”

“Could you do it again mister?”

“ Alright! Since you asked nicely. Watch carefully now!~” You heard a jovial smooth voice. 

Looking above the kid group you spot him, seated comfortably playing with his card deck. 

‘ Of course! You’d be where a willing audience was present!’ 

You waltzed over subtly. He was entertaining a group of little kids with some card tricks, you’d let him finish his mini performance before you made yourself known.

“ Is this your card little Mademoiselle?”  Lyney knelt down and held up a four of hearts card. The little girl with blonde hair jumped up excitedly.

“ Yeah! That’s my card!” 

Lyney laughed, a warm expression graced his features. His eyes met yours for a split second. Not knowing what to do, you sent a little wave. Well at least he knows you're here. 

His gaze flitted back to the group of kids. He got back up with the card in hand. “ Before I go, I’ll leave you all with a grand finale!”

The children gasped in unison and quieted down instantly. 

He brought the card close to his face. He flicked it two times before crumpling it into his hand. 

He shook his hand and reeled it as if he was going to throw a shot ball. He brought his hand up in a presenting way and when his palm opened there was a pop sound. It rained rainbow confetti and small cut out paper stars.

The children ooo’d and awe’d, and two were reaching their little arms up to catch the popper’s confetti. 

“ Ta-da! This has been a special performance, brought to you by Magician Extraordinaire Lyney!” The magician lifted his cape from behind him and took a bow. The children clapped and cheered. 

Two adults came walking up to the mini crowd. 

“ Thank you for entertaining them, Mister Lyney. Getting our little Anais to sit still is a magic trick on its own.” An older woman laughed, as she picked up a small girl who wore a Boater styled hat. 

“ Alright Hugo, let's go. Our boat will leave in a few minutes. Say thank you to Monsieur Lyney.” A man with a distinguished mustache taped a young boy in overalls. The little boy with his hands behind his back, thanked the magician before he went off with his father. 

Lyney waved the kids off as he walked off towards you. 

“ Hey there you. I hope managed to get a full night's rest.” He said, there was this sort of bounce in his voice. You may have only known him for a little while now, but you couldn’t help but pick up some recurring little quirks about him.

He wasn’t much different casually like he was on stage. This guy really does live and breathe in the spotlight huh?

“ Sort of. I had a bit of trouble sleeping.” 

‘No way you were going to tell him you were thinking about him. That would make the rest of the day awkward.’

“ I did end up getting some shut eye though, eventually.” You mustered up a reassuring smile. 

“ Trouble sleeping?” Lyney tilted his head as his index finger came up to chin. His eyes slightly narrowed as a mischief inducing grin made its way onto his face. “ You weren’t laying awake thinking about me were you?~” 

You couldn’t help but widen your eyes and sputter out. Is telepathy in his book of magic tricks too?!

“What? No, of course not!” You forced a cough to cover your small blunder. “It’s just, I need to get accustomed to the climate, that's all. It's like that the first few days in a new location.”

Lyney laughed, his smirk melting into a more genuine expression.

“I’m kidding! That might have been a bit much, sorry about that! Hehe.” He said apologetically.  

You crossed your arms as you held a small jaded stare at the cheeky magician. You were doubting if he really meant that. You blew out a held breath.

Reaching into your pocket you fetched the prop card

“ I found this in my sleeve when I left the Opera House. I believe this belongs to you.” You extended his card to him. His eyes suddenly lit up and he swiped the card away from you.

“So this is where it went! Honestly, sometimes my card deck has a mind of its own.” He mused as he twirled the card in his hand. 

His eyes traveled back to you. “Well since it got you here today, why not take a walk around town! I did say if we had free time we were going to show you around. Call it an encore if you will.” 

You looked around you, noticing something amiss after he said that.

“ Is Miss Lynette not going to join today?”

Lyney shrugged as he slid the card back into his deck. “ Lynette had something urgent to take care of, So she can't join us today unfortunately. So it will probably just be little old me and you today.” 

He was idly playing around with the deck before he made it disappear. “ Oh, you don’t need to be so formal! Just Lyney is fine.” 

You hummed.

“Alright. So any places to recommend visiting?”

At this the magician sported a confident smile and walked ahead of you. “ I have a full day planned out, a surprise around every corner. I want your stay in Fontaine to be an unforgettable glimmering memory.” 

He turned on his heel to face you and extended a hand to you.

“ Now if you’d allow me to be your escort, mon cher?” 

You could do nothing but stare. You couldn’t come up with any words to say except stepping forward and taking his hand. 

With a content smile, Lyney gently pulled you along. His gloved hand felt smooth where his fingers grazed your palm yet there was a distinctive tougher texture where the white detailing was sewn on. The people wandering the streets around you felt like the fizzling suds of a wave.

You felt your face becoming a bit warmer. 

He really does have a flair for the theatrical doesn’t he? 

Lyney had taken you everywhere, one exciting place following the next. But before anything, he invented you for a meal. It was noon and the complimentary breakfast from early morning wasn’t going to keep you going for the entire day. So you both stopped by a humble cafe. The food was absolutely delicious! The smell of toasty bread invaded your senses and the savory taste of garlic on your tongue made you smile with each bite . 

You were perfectly content with the garlic bread but you curiously asked Lyney for any recommended dish for the main course.

His answer was; “ If you want my word, then I’d say try this dish right here!” He pointed to a warm soup bowl as he leaned himself over to you.

After lunch, Lyney brought you to see many sights and places. From the tall waterfalls that made up the borders of Fontaine, you could stare at it for hours. He had to subtly pull you away from the viewing point as you kept your eyes glued to the running water. 

You took the Aquabus every so often to get around. You were looking out into the distance. The water seemed to stretch on for infinity, islands broke through the surface making the land seem like one big jigsaw puzzle.

While the ride dragged out, Lyney made quick conversation to pass the time.

“So, what brought you to Fontaine, hm? If my memory serves me right, you mentioned that you don’t get out much.” Lyney sat next to you with his legs crossed. 

“ Yeah. I see travelers but I'm never the one traveling. My job is not something exciting like an adventurer or extravagant like an artist.”

You shift in your seat. You folded your arms onto your lap.

“ I’m just a shopkeep. So, you can already say that I live a perfectly mundane life” You chuckled a bit dryly. 

Lyney was uncharacteristically quiet. He was paying his undivided attention to your words. You continued. 

“With every passing day, I gradually realized that my life had possibly reached a stalemate. Every day felt like a repeat of yesterday. It was the same route, same building, same aisles, and same feelings.” You said. You couldn’t exactly remember when you began to feel like this. It was a thought that had crossed your mind one day. And ever since, it had stayed in the crevices like gunk you couldn’t wipe off.

 “ So, I decided that I’m just going to throw myself out there into the world!” You spoke. You couldn’t really say exactly what your ideas were, but you described what you felt. 

Comfort. Trapped. Empty. Jealous. Fear. Doubt. Excitement. 

“ It may be reckless of me, but If I was never going to do it, I knew I would end up feeling regret for not having done anything about it. And even so, my boss was kind enough to grant me time off.” 

You snickered. “ I’m probably just assuming, but I feel like they might have let me have this because they probably noticed something. Not to brag, but I was their best employee. Swooping in to save the day when my colleagues were out.” 

You stretched your arms a bit, not having realized how still your body was the entire time. Once you were done it felt nice; it was as if your entire being took a fresh breath of relief.

“ So now I’m here. In Fontaine on an Aquabus with you.” You look up to see Lyney again. His eyes were soft and he had this understanding expression on his face. 

Really, any expression he wore felt as if it were through a pair of rosy lenses. Perhaps it was the natural charm artists like him had. Maybe. 

Besides,he could get away with just about anything because of his attractive face.

You shook your head away to look out into the Fontaine waters around and below. 

“ Well, good on you [Name]! I hope your ventures have been nothing but amazing and brought you happiness! ” He finally spoke. He inhaled deeply before he sighed out. His gaze faced the bow of the aquabus.

 “ Do you agree that birds create wonderful music for the ear to hear? Not to mention the splendor of colorful feathers and their ability to fly.” 

“Due to their natural charm, they are sometimes kept as ‘decorations’, provided food and shelter so long as they continue to amuse the people.” He said, his tone shifted ever so slightly. It was barely noticeable, but there was a very micro edge to his word. 

He crossed his arms, the brim of his hat covered the sun creating a little inkling of shadow cast over half his face blocking out the sunlight that might’ve stung his eyes. 

“ But being kept in captivity for too long, it will yearn for the open skies. It’s only a matter of time before the initial luxury turns into a finite cage.” Lyney hummed. His words brought you an unexplainable comfort yet somehow it felt very out of character for him. You subtly shift your gaze to his face. His expression didn’t seem to be exaggerated. His features were calm like a still lake, unmoving. His eyes, although trained forward, seemed to be not fully there. A misty reflection had settled over his lilac irises. 

The intermission lasted for a few beats of seconds. His mouth effortlessly shifts up into a cat-like grin. He turns his head back to you and straightens his posture, his signature tophat tips back slightly. His eyes conveyed excitement as the lilac once again seemed as vivid during his performance.

 He was no longer a still freshwater lake, but instead a lively and winding river. 

“Which is why you’ll get the best tour of Fontaine by yours truly! Mark my words when I said I’d leave you dazzled today, for I Lyney will see to it that you have nothing but laughs and smiles upon your lovely face, mon cher.~” He declared proudly.

You felt dazed. A warm bubbly feeling began to infest your chest. It was very much like when he placed a kiss to the back of your hand.

You smiled happily at his declaration. “Thank you for listening to me. And also..”

You couldn’t help the hot sensation over the apples of your cheeks or your muted heart rate from your ears. Yet you persisted, not breaking away your gaze from him.

“Thank you for being with me today.”

Lyney’s confident facade had faltered ever so slightly for that moment. But he recuperated and mirrored your expression. 

“It’s no problem at all, [Name].”

This was nice. He was nice. Despite knowing him for a little while, it felt as if you’d known him for much longer. 

However, you barely knew anything about him other than he had a twin sister who was coincidentally his assistant and that he was a popular performer in Fontaine. 

It irked you a bit, but you wouldn’t voice this opinion out loud.  It is as people said, once you learn the inner mechanism to a magic trick, the magic itself is lost and you're left to face the raw and sometimes cruel trick. 

You wouldn’t question why he went quiet. You wouldn’t question if he himself felt similar. You wouldn’t question why his demeanor sometimes felt too whimsical to be true. You didn’t want to ruin the mood. And you didn’t want to linger on the thought any longer. 

You both went to many shops, Lyney had insisted you try out anything that caught your fancy. And if you liked it, to get it! Of course you were on a travel budget, but you did end up purchasing two items. 

Your favorite stop however was the Hat Boutique. Lyney had a rather interesting insight on what headwear would ‘shape a face better’. 

“Hm, you could probably store triple the amount of props in this one.” He studied a scarlet red top hat that looked suspiciously similar to the one he owns. He then looked over to another hat sitting on a display. “But that one brings out my petite and charming face more.” 

He turned to face you. “ Help me out here [Name], should I go with this one or that one?”

You looked between the two options, narrowing your eyes and looked closely at the detailings. You looked at Lyney’s face and imagined how he’d look with either on. 

“If you want my opinion, why not go with this one.” You walked over to a particular Hat you saw as you were pursuing. It was a Fedora like hat in a rich dark violet color; it looked more like an inky black purple. It had a gray sash wrapped around it that shined slightly silver when the sun hit. 

“ It looks nice, and the material feels smooth to the touch. The color brings out your eyes too.” You said as you held up the hat for him to look. 

“Oh my, aren't you the charmer?” He smirked playfully.

You avert your eyes to the aisles of material and color, “ It’s just an astute observation is all.” 

He took the hat off your hands and studied it. “ Color me impressed! You have quite the eye for fashion mon cherie.” He sent you a proud smile and his eyes glowed with pride. 

You shook your head. “ I work full time at a small shop remember, so picking up on the interest of buyers is a skill I’ve gained. I wouldn’t say I’m a fashion expert.” You felt the corner of your lips twitch up into a little smile. 

“Are you going to tell me what you mean by that?” 

“What do I mean by what?” He repeated your question blinking owlishly 

You pouted. You got the feeling he was doing it on purpose.

“The nickname? You refer to me by that sometimes. What does it mean?” 

Lyney thought for two seconds before his mouth formed an o shape in realization. He gave you an innocent close eyed smile. “ That’s a secret~! But, I have faith you’ll figure out what it means on your own.” 

You gasped and brought a hand to your heart. “ How do I know you're not calling me a mean name? What a cruel scheme to pull one over me like that!” You whisper yelled in an over the top voice of hurt. 

 His shoulders tensed. Lyney suddenly became the slightest bit flustered. He shook his head, “I-I would never! Honest! I can assure you it doesn’t mean anything like that.” 

 

You let out a quiet snicker. You found it adorable really. He suddenly became embarrassed despite the brimming confidence he usually carries himself in.

After purchasing the hat, he decided to keep his signature cat still on but suggested making a stop by his house to leave the newly purchased hat. 

“ It won’t be long I promise! It’s just that, I wouldn’t want it to get weathered by bringing it around with us today. You did end up choosing it and I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to it.” He reasoned.

It was a small but cute home. It was built in a typical style that the main city carried; geometric edges, a very advanced looking outdoor light, and a beautiful door with a stained window. 

“Wait here okay! I promise I’ll be in and out before you can tell I left.” He quickly spoke as he jogged over to the front door. You couldn’t help but laugh a little as he sped off. 

So you stood outside. You looked around, and spotted a potted plant. 

CLANK TICK CLANK

The sharp sounds of metal and objects clashing made you sharply look at the direction it came from. You suddenly felt a bit confused.

The door swung open and you were expecting to see the charming magician. Instead it was a boy running out the door. He spotted you and suddenly skidded to a sudden stop.

“...” 

He had a giant metal helmet next to him. He had ash blonde hair that almost covered the left side of his face. His apparel reminded you of a sailor.

He just stared at you and stepped back a bit. His form seemed slightly shrunken and he held his helmet thing closer to him. Not wanting wrong assumptions to be made you sent the boy the most casual smile you could.

“ Oh, don’t mind me! I’m just waiting on a friend, said he had to drop off something. He should be back any minute.”

The boy didn’t say anything, and just nodded. And he stood there. Unmoving.

 Some glances at you and back to the floor.

 He taps around his helmet. 

Well this was awkward. Should you make small talk?

“Er, cool helmet. What is it for, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

The boy nervously glanced at you from the corner of his eye. His eyes were a very vibrant blue color. He didn’t answer for a while. You purse your lips feeling bad. Maybe the silence was better. 

“ving…” You barely heard it. You look over back to the boy.

“Diving..a diving helmet.” He spoke quietly. He didn’t make eye contact as his eyes were glued to the floor. 

“Diving? As in underwater?” You spoke with some bubbling curiosity. Before the boy could react, the door opened again.

“ I am here! Haha, sorry. That may have taken a bit longer than I thought. I hope you didn’t get too bored while I was away.” Lyney announced himself. He no longer had the hat box with him and he scratched the nape of his neck.

He noticed the other blonde boy. 

“Hm? Ah, Freminet! Where are you off to today?” 

Oh, he knows him? You thought, glancing between the two. 

“I was on my way to the beach.” The young man known as Freminet spoke. His voice sounded soft yet slightly raspy, perhaps he wasn’t used to talking much you figured.

Lyney approached you and eagerly motioned for you to join in the conversation.

“ [Name], allow me to introduce you to my little brother, Freminet. Freminet, this is my new friend [Name]. They were the ones to share the spotlight with me and Lynette during last evening’s show.” Lyney proudly chirped.

Freminet looked a lot less tense. “Oh, yeah. I remember. You rambled on about that show, saying how well they-”

Lyney coughed loudly. You look over at the magician with a raised eyebrow. 

There on his pale face was the smallest smidgen of a rosy color. Freminet immediately hushed. But he had a small nervous smile on his face.

“ I’m sorry If I seemed quiet just now.” Fremeniet now said addressing you. “ I recognized you from your appearance, but I didn’t know what to talk about. Or If you would find me odd for knowing about you.” 

You shook your head, understanding the full picture now made you feel a bit more reassured. “ Don’t worry about it, really. But, it’s nice to meet you, Freminet.”

You turned to face Lyney who looked a lot more relaxed. “ So you have two siblings? What a nice family you three are! There probably isn’t a shortage of banter or boredom then.” 

Lyney chuckled. “ Well, I’m usually the one who does most of the talking. I’m the eldest so it's my duty.” 

“Sometimes you take it a bit too far and become a blabber mouth.” A familiar voice suddenly joined the conversation. Looking about you were met with another familiar face.

“Hey Lynette.” You sent the twin a little friendly wave. She turned to you. Smiling a little and returning it, albeit more lazy. 

“Really? You see me as a blabber mouth? But Lynette, I mustn't let the audience’s cheers and support fall on deaf ears. Especially that our friend [Name] here has been on a grand tour with me as their guide.” Lyney ground proudly as he placed both his hands on his hips.

“Whatever you say. But, you’ve been taking them on a tour? How come you didn’t invite me to tag along?” Lynette deadpanned. 

Huh? You tilted your head in confusion and furrowed your brow. Didn’t Lyney mention earlier that his sister was busy. Lyney must have felt the obvious sudden awkward tension placed upon him as his shoulder tensed and he chuckled nervously.

“A-ah, b-but dear sister, you see since you were busy in the early time of today I didn’t wish to trouble you, so I took it upon myself to show them around. Hehe, please don’t be mad at me.” Lyney stuttered out all while looking at Lynette as he brought his hat closer to his chest.

 Lynette sighed and shook her head before she turned to you with a laid back expression. 

“ I hope he hasn’t caused you too much trouble, [Name]. He can go a little too far sometimes but that’s just Lyney being Lyney.” 

“Hey! I’m right here you know.” Lyney whined sadly. Lynette didn’t bother to look at him and Freminet had turned his head to the side. His shoulder’s bounced and looked like he was suppressing a giggle.

“ It’s really okay. More than okay really. Lyney has been nothing but kind and patient with me. He is a good listener and always manages to make me smile and laugh!” You said happily. 

Lynette’s deep violet eyes got slightly bigger with confusion and curiosity. Lyney stood beside you and took a quick glance at your direction. It was quiet for a moment. You suddenly became a bit nervous, was there something wrong you said?

Lyney laughed heartily as he threw an arm over your shoulders. “You see! Take it from them, that I never let my audience down!” You quickly glanced in his direction, not minding the close contact. You could see some red culminating around the tips of his ear and beneath his eyes.

“Well that's good to know.” Lynette crossed her arms. 

“ We must get going, the daylight is short so we mustn't waste it idlying.” Lyney said. Before you two left Lyney sent his siblings goodbye. “Take care Lynette, remember to be on alert alright? And Freminet, remember to get back home before curfew! I was about to dive into the waters last time you had forgotten about time.” 

“ Okay.”

“Of course.”

Lynette and Freminet replied in unison. 

“ Looks like we’re on the move again. I hope to be able to spend time with you Lynette.” You said. You wanted to get to know this family better. Lynette was blunt and to the point but you could tell she cared about the people closest to her. 

Lynette nodded and her lips curled up into a small but sincere smile. You turned to Freminet.

 “ It was nice to meet you, Freminet. If we ever meet again, would you mind explaining diving to me? It sounds interesting.” 

Freminet tensed slightly but managed to nod in agreement. 

“ Bye Bye! Take care!”

After you two had left, Lynette turned to Fremeinet with a pensive look.

“ Freminet, do you think our older brother is perhaps getting attached to them?”

“ I don’t know. But, he really seems to like their company. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him being this flustered in the presence of someone else.”

Lynette hummed. “ I hope he knows what he’s attempting to get himself into. Out of all of us, he knows what kind of situation we’re in.”

Freminet was quiet as he fidgeted with the nails and guards on his helmet. 

“ Do you think that [Name] would like Per?”

Lynette glanced at Freminet with an unreadable expression. She stood still and thought of last evening's performance. 

“Did... Did you go into idle mode?”

“Yes.”

“Huh?”

“ I think [Name] would find Per cute.” 

The rest of the day was spontaneous. From a walk by the sea shore, trying out pastries and free samples, Lyney explaining Fontaine history and technology. 

It was now close to night time and you were both currently walking through the garden close to the Opera House. The road towards the Opera House was beautiful, ever since you first came here a day prior. You had almost ran late to the Magic show seeing as to how pretty it was. The carved marble statues, the beds of wildflowers beyond the decorative iron railing, and not to mention the fountains. Water was almost everywhere you’d look, it was a given as this was the nation of Hydro. 

“Well, today was certainly a fun day.” You spoke softly. You looked up into the sky. It was the final rays of daylight and the sky was a beautiful swatch of evening gradience. All of the orange, blues and reds bled right into each other.

The water beyond mirrored the sky. The land was akin to a watercolor tray, a smokey mixture of cool and warm colors. 

“Thankyou, again for taking time out of your day to guide me through the nation’s cities. You didn’t need to know?” You walked alongside Lyney who was too admiring the sky. 

“Nonsense. I took you on this little journey because I wanted to. It was one of my prop cards that called to you, yes?” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes but-”

“And you answered. You could have very well ignored it, even kept the card as a souvenir. But you didn’t. And that choice led you to today.” He spoke calmly.

You said nothing. Lyney was a stubborn man, no matter how many times you could protest against his kindness he would fire back with a reasonable explanation. 

“ The card, how did you manage to put it into my sleeve?” 

Lyney grinned like a bobcat. “ Uh uh my dear, a magician never reveals his trade secrets.” He mused teasingly.

“ Of course.” You sighed, giving up. 

“Have you always had a talent in magic? In performing?” 

Lyney finally turned his head to glance at you. Skipping ahead of you, he manages to turn his whole body towards you.

“ If you must know, It is a rags to riches tale!” He exclaimed as he bellowed out his arms dramatically in front of him.

“ As a young lad, me and Lynette were street performers. Everyday little crowds of people would congregate around us on the side of the street. Card tricks, Flower tricks, and even the feathered friends would aid in our little shows.” He exclaimed as he walked backwards.

“We would give it our all and Mora would rain down upon us.” He spoke with a triumphant smile on his face. He slowed down his pace and you managed to catch up. He was now walking next to you like before.

“ You could guess the rest. We eventually became so well renowned, we were able to afford high end venues and quality equipment for our shows. And soon we went from paupers to famed actors.” 

You had listened carefully. Despite his colorful disposition, the underlying tone of his small backstory felt off.

“ I’m sorry you had to go through such tribulation. It must have been tough on the two of you early on.” You frowned. Although he framed the tale as a dramatic novel, the implication that he and lynette had been living in the streets tugged at your heart.

He did say when he was a lad, so this probably must have happened while they were both children. Where were their parents? The rest of their family? You decided to stave off these questions as they could be delicate. 

Lyney had gone quiet for a moment. He smiled warmly at you. “ It’s alright. There is no need to feel sad for us. That is long in the past now. And besides…” He grinned widely. “ I think a smile would suit your lovely face more!” 

He took off his hat and dug around it and pulled out a curious plant. It was a glowing blue color and its shape resembled a pearl. It shined a mixture of a translucent lilac and ocean blue. 

He outstretched it out to you. You went ahead and tapped the leaves that looked like sea shells. The flower suddenly released some bubbles. The translucent orbs floated around you. You couldn’t help but pop a few, some giggles escaping you as you whirled around. 

Lyney chuckled. “ I did promise you that I would keep that smile on your lips followed by the melody of your laughter.” 

“ I-” You brought a hand up to your face. Your heart suddenly began to beat as if you had just ran a distance. 

Why did his words have to feel so..so..like this? Why did it feel as if what he said was true? Would that explain why your heart feels like it would sprout wings and fly away any moment?

You were positive your face was burning up. You coughed into your hand.

“You did, didn't you? Thank you for the reminder.” You had managed to sputter out. You heard the soft chuckling of the magician. The flower was no wear to be seen, he must’ve vanished it away when you weren’t paying attention. 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page, [Name].” He had a lopsided grin. Lyney was a cheeky man, a person with a silver tongue. He was a conman. And yet…

He managed to make you feel like you had a tornado of butterflies in your stomach all the time. 

You were left speechless, as you both continued to walk down a few more minutes. You both made it to the Opera. In front of the opera was a bigger fountain, and a few pairs of people were collected around it. 

You went up to the fountain, interested to see it up close. In the water collected at the bottom, you could make out a few glittering coins of Mora beneath the water. You heard a few steps up behind you and guess Lyney must’ve followed you. 

“ People wish at this fountain, right? What for?” You looked around at the elegant structure. The reflected moonlight in the water gleamed against the little gold accents around its edges. 

“ Fontainians come to this fountain to wish about anything, really. Better fortune, health, and happiness. But mostly, people come to this specific fountain for love or hopes for a healthy baby.” Lyney answered, his hands behind his back. 

‘Hmm, the pairs of people make sense now.’ You thought as you glanced around the area. Satisfied you walk around the front of the Opera house. The fountains shooting water high into the air makes you wanna take a closer look. Leaning into the thin railing your eyes stayed glued to the water. 

You could feel a ghost coolness of the falling mist from the tall fountain. 

Although it was a fun outing today, you had ran around almost everywhere in the nation. Lyney in toe with you, making you ignore the aches you felt for doing so much in such a short time. Now in this still moment, all your tiredness was catching up to you.

Lyney must have noticed, as his lilac eyes flitted between your face and the fountain ahead. 

“ Hey, want to see something cool?” 

You turned your head over to the cheeky magician with a brow raised.

With your attention now on him, he took off his hat. You leaned more on your arm against the railing with a warm smile. Half expecting him to pull out something out of his hat again, he did something else. He shook it in front of him, emptying it out of nothing. Nothing left the hat. 

Lyney hummed aloud. “Hmm, I was sure I had it stored in here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Maybe you dropped it somewhere?”

“No no. I was sure It was in here.” He pouted as he now looked in, under and above his tophat. It was rather cute.

He eventually gave up and placed it back on his head. “ You might be right, maybe it slipped out while we were on the aqua-”

Just as he was about to finish, something dangled in front of his face. It moved from side to side, as if it was dusting off his face. Upon a closer look, It looked like a cat tail.

The look on Lyney’s face was endearing, his lilac eyes had dilated in surprise and followed the tail. 

“Ah, there it is!” The hat suddenly lifted up his head, floating just above.

To your surprise, you see a smaller tophat along two little black ears pop out. Two little black bean paws followed, grabbing along the inner rim of Lyney’s hat. 

Pop

“!!!”

You finally saw its face. It was a black cat with mismatched eyes of a droplet and star. It had a permanent toothy grin on its face. It wiggled in the hat and turned itself to look down at you. 

“?!!”

You could make out the red bow behind its back. You weren’t sure what to do so you waved at the cat. It moved its small pudgy body around the hat and twitched its tiny ears.

“!!!”

Lyney let out a giggle at the interaction. “ Aww, I think he likes you.” He managed to grab his floating hat by the rim and brought it down in front of him. The cat in the hat seemed bothered and was now looking up at you. Its tiny hat was slightly tipped back.

“Can I pet it?” You asked almost too excitedly. 

“Since you asked, of course! He is a bit mischievous but a glutton for attention.” He mused, side eyeing down on the cat. 

You gingerly brough your hand down onto the cat. Its surface was surprisingly smooth yet soft, and the cat wiggled towards your touch. It’s two little ears ducked back as it seemed to love the attention it was given. It’s face never changed, however. 

“ Does it have a name?” You asked as you kept petting it. Lyney nodded and smiled.

“ It’s a Grin-Malkin cat! I’m sure you're quite familiar with it, as it’s not only a prop for Lynette and I’s show, but our cute mascot.” He said.

“Prop?” You asked slightly confused. So it wasn’t alive? Then how did it move so life-like? 

“ The Grin-Malkin cat is a puppet, but its movements are based off of a real cat.” He said. 

You smiled, but kept petting the cute kitty. Even if it was just a puppet, the cat seemed to have a familiar personality. Its little paws stuck out, and one came up to ‘attack’ your finger. You quietly giggled at its playfulness.

“ So, cats are a part of your show’s soul huh?” You asked. 

“ If it wasn’t that obvious, yes.” He said with a charming smile.

“ ‘Based on a real cat’, so who was the lucky cat this little bean was based on?” You asked curiously. 

“ When Lynette and I were street performers, we managed to run into a lot of stray cats. Lynette was shy, so most of them got along with her.” He said as he looked down to Grin-Malkin.

“But, there was one troublesome cat. He kept on running off with my hat. Apparently, it made for a better cat bed than anything. He would be curled up inside when I found it.” 

“ Eventually, I thought of replacing my old friend with a new hat. A hat that wouldn’t disappear when I didn’t tell it so. But, me and the cat came to a mutual agreement. I would bring him along to the show as a replica puppet!” He said with a proud smile. It slightly faltered however as he continued.

“During one particular performance, there was a little mishap that happened. I had forgotten a card in my deck and the trick required that one card that I misplaced.”

You winced at the second hand embarrassment. “Talk about bad luck. What did you do?” You asked. The kitty that you were petting now turned around to look up at Lyney. It looked interesting in his story. So now, it was you and the cat’s eyes on Lyney.

“Well, as I was coming up with an improvised outcome, out came this little guy.” He motioned down to the cat.

“!!!” It bounced slightly in the hat as the attention now was on it. 

“ He had the card that I had misplaced and was able to save the show. And ultimately, make it better. The crowd and even I wasn’t expecting such an outcome.” He shook his head. 

“Aww, so he became the star of the show.” You laughed. 

“!!!” The cat whirled around to face you again and puffed out its chest in pride. 

Lyney laughed alongside you. “ That’s one way to put it.” 

Once you calmed down you noticed that you didn’t feel as tired anymore. 

“ It looks like today is coming to a close.” Lyney said as he looked around. There were now very few people outside, and the sky had turned darker than earlier. The magician tapped the tiny tophat on the cat.

“Before today the curtains come to a close, let me send you off with a grand finale.” He whispered. 

The Grin-Malkin cat wiggled its tail and his paw came up to the brim of its own hat. The cat tipped its tophat to you before Lyney grabbed his own and placed it back atop it’s hat. 

“With your permission, could you close your eyes for me.” He said as he leaned in close to you, his hands behind his back. 

“Okay?” You smiled nervously.

You shut your eyes and saw darkness. You could still hear the rushing of water and a faint sound of chirping crickets. 

“Okay, no peeking until I tell you too.” You heard the magician. 

You waited for what would happen. You felt someone get closer to you. The ghostly presence of someone close to your face. You refrained from moving, yet your heart began to pick up its pace.

You felt something warm touch your cheek, and something soft tickle your ear. At the same time you felt stiffer material tap against you above your head. 

It came as quickly as it went, as you felt a small breeze and you could no longer feel the close presence. 

“Okay, open your eyes now.” You heard Lyney say. 

You opened and saw the magician in front of you with a warm smile. 

“Do you feel anything different? Perhaps something is missing!” He said in a cheery tone.

Your hand reached up to where you felt something earlier. 

“Huh?” 

There was something behind your ear. Carefully, your fingers outstretched and touched something soft. It was a delicate circlet of petals connected to a smooth stem. Looking up from the corner of your eye, you spotted a blur of prisma like colors. 

A blurb of pink and pastel yellow. 

“ A rose? How?” You quietly questioned.

“Mhm!” Lyney nodded enthusiastically. “ That is a rainbow rose. A beautiful flower that grows wild only within Fontaine.”

“Ah, thank you! It’s really pretty and soft.” You delicately felt a petal. Beneath the bloom, there were smaller outstretched petals that pressed against your temple. 

“ Have you found it yet? The thing I stole from you.” Lyney asked, tilting his head to the side.

You glanced back at him confused. You didn’t feel anything missing from you, as you checked your packets and around your person. 

Lyney’s eyes followed your attempts to look for the missing something, slightly amused. 

“Given up yet?”

You really couldn’t find anything off. 

“ Is this a trick question, because I don’t feel like anything was taken.” You asked.

Lyney raised a closed hand next to his face. He smirked mischievously. 

“How strange, because I have something of yours in the palm of my hand.” He teased me. “I’ll give you one more chance, could you guess what it is?”

You nodded. You guessed it was either a prop card or maybe some mora.

“ I give up, what is it?” 

Lyney opened his palm and there was…

Nothing.

“Ta-da! The thing I stole from you was your attention.” He exclaimed with glee. He walked over to me and extended his hand over to me. 

“Here you go, you can have it back now!”

 …

This little- 

You may have had the tiniest urge to smack his shoulder. Shaking off that urge, you huffed and played along. Once you reached his hand to get your ‘attention’ back, his finger’s gently encased your hand.

He bowed down dramatically and kissed the back of your palm. 

 Very discreetly, he cracked one eye open and glanced up at you. You had frozen in place and with a flustered face you could only stare. 

He had the gall to smirk and send you a wink. 

There was an odd sense of Dejavu, the memory of when you were approached by him after the magic show that evening. 

“And it seems that…I have stolen your heart as well ma chérie.” Lyney whispered. 

He gently let your hand fall back to your side as he stood back up. He had an innocent smile on his face. 

You just stared at him completely dazed.

It was quiet for a very. Long. Second.

Lyney’s pale face slowly became redder and redder although he did not move.

The awkwardness was beginning to thicken and soon Lyney couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ahem…Ahaha hah haa... D-Did you get it? Because I had you focused on me the entire time so I stole your attention right under your nose. And now I just did a chivalrous act to make you feel flustered! I didn’t go too far again did I?” He muttered as he brought a hand to his mouth and averted his eyes. 

His rambling snapped you out of your dazed phase and you suddenly became very aware as to how hot your face was. Lyney being in some sort of distress in front of you made you sputter out.

“Nononono, It’s fine! I was surprised, very surprised actually…er that was a nice trick there, very smart. So don’t worry about it.” You went ahead and leaned forward from the railing to look back at the fountain. Lyney might have gotten the message because he did the same.

After a few minutes of cooling down, you turned your head to look at Lyney and see if he was alright. His lilac eyes spotted you out of the corner, and he ducked under the brim of his hat. 

“I think it’s getting late, I’ll take the Aquabus back to the main city.” You said, there was a small tight feeling in your chest. You were sad as to how fast the day went, how fast you had to say goodbye. 

“Let me walk you back to the station then. It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly to let you walk back on your own this late.” Lyney offered, his voice sincere.

And so you did. The walk back was slightly quieter. Again, he became uncharacteristically quiet.

Was it because of what happened earlier? Did he feel like he did something wrong?

“You know I had fun today, right?” You began. 

“It was very kind of you to take me on a tour around the city. I got to learn about the nation, eat good food, spoil myself with samples and sweets, and saw many hats I didn’t even know existed.” you slightly laughed. You heard him laughing quietly too. 

“ I met your siblings, met your prop cat and I got to meet you in last evening's show.”

You might’ve never gone out today if you hadn’t met Lyney.

You might’ve never got to know his family if you hadn’t met Lyney.

You might’ve never gotten to meet Lyney like this if you weren’t picked to participate in the final act.

The more you thought about it, the more you became grateful that for some miracle of coincidence you were picked from the audience. 

“I’m really happy that I met you. You made my time here in Fontaine feel magical. I’ll keep this day close to my heart, if that’s okay with you.” You smiled happily, the giddy feeling making you feel all sorts of floaty.

Lyney said nothing, only humming in approval.

Once you had gotten to the station, there was already a bus sitting there. The tour guide, or Melusine as you later found out, was sitting and leaning against the bus. Once it heard the sound of footsteps it sat up quickly, it’s tall ears snapping up.

“Ah! Oh, all aboard the bus! No wait, that’s not it..uh- everyone boarding please be careful with your arms, feet and legs inside the boat!” It spoke, half asleep.

You turn to Lyney. “ Are you going to go back to the main city?”

He shook his head.

“ No, I think I’m going to go back to the Opera house. I hate to be the naggy brother, but I just want to make sure Lynette didn’t forget any of the props backstage.” 

“ Oh alright. I guess this is goodbye then.” 

You had the urge to hug him. You weren’t sure how busy the Magician might be tomorrow, but somewhere in the back of your mind you believed you wouldn’t see him again for a while. The thought once again made your chest feel tight. 

“ I believe so.” Lyney said quietly. 

Well, no point in delaying your leave. 

“Wha- HEY!” You heard Lyney yelp, and quickly you turn back to see what happened. His hat was off its what and seemed to zoom over to you. 

The Grin-Malkin cat drove the Top hat like some dune buggy as now right side up was swirled with pyro elemental energy.

The grinning cat raced in the sky towards you, there wasn’t enough time to get out of the way so you braced for impact. But it never came.

The hat had swerved around you, drifting mid air as the cat kept facing you. 

Suddenly the thing nudged itself into your face, the Grin-Malkin cat rubbing its pudgy dark body against you. You could almost hear purrs. 

“ Hello, nice to see you again.” You giggled as its ears tickled your chin. Wrapping an arm around it you used the other to scratch above its head. 

“!!!” 

Lyney got closer and smiled nervously. “ I think he likes you too much. It never usually takes off on it’s own.” 

He bent slightly down to be on the hat’s level and he put both his hands on his hip.

“Hey now! Come on, back up here alright?” he tried to sound like a scolding parent.

“!!!” The cat shook its tail in his face.

“I’m serious. C’mon, back on Lyney’s head” He pointed to his hat-less head of hair. 

“!!!” The cat dug itself deeper into your embrace. 

Lyney frowned. “ I know you like [Name], but they really have to go. It could be dangerous for them to be out in the streets this late. The sooner you let them go, the sooner they’ll go back safely.” He reasoned with a reassuring tone of voice.

The cat retracted itself from your hold and glanced down at Lyney. Having made up its mind the cat’s paws extended to you.

You tapped them both. “ Lyney’s right. I have to go. I’ll miss you too.” You leaned down and pressed a small peck on the robotic cat’s forehead. 

It wiggled and a paw came up to its hat and brought it down in an attempt to hide its face. Although its features couldn’t exactly express, it looked to be shy. 

Lyney had noticed and brought a hand up to his mouth to cover his snickers. 

The cat then ducked into the hat, disappearing from view. You looked inside the hat and it was empty. 

Grabbing it from in front of you, you flipped it right side up.

“Here, let me help.” You raised it above Lyney’s head. Slowly you set it down and secure it in its place. All the while doing it, Lyney had his soft lilac eyes on your face. 

Fixing the hat a bit, you dusted off any dirt that may have gotten on it. “There we go! Now you look as sharp as you usually do.” You grinned.

You didn’t notice but when you smiled, especially at such close proximity, Lyney couldn’t stop the flush of color rising in his face. 

You kept staring at his hat and his face as well to see if anything was out of place. 

Without realizing your hands hover just above his arms. You weren’t sure if this was right. Maybe ... .Everything was going a step too far. Just as you were gonna reel back, Lyney raised his hands to hover right beneath your arms.

Without saying much but a nod, you hugged.

His cape felt soft, and his arms held you with care and protectiveness. You smiled as your face dug into his shoulder. You felt the hard material of the brim bump your temple. 

He smelled like flowers and ash. An odd combination yet somewhat comforting.

For what felt like a full day, you two finally separated. He had a warm and sincere smile on his face. 

Most of his smiles are bright grins that could light up a room. 

But somehow after a while the spark is lost, and the smiles feel all the same. But this one, the one you saw before your eyes. No, this was different.

The kind of smile that was not rehearsed nor under scrutiny of the captive audience’s eye. 

This one felt raw, special, authentic. 

It made him look beautiful. 

Realizing you were staring, you stepped back.

“ I….really think I need to go, or the Melusine will go back to sleep.” You turned on your heel and headed towards the boarding area. Before you left you took a big breath in. the cold air of the night and mist sending a current of energy through you.

As you were about to step on the bus, you heard him walk behind you.

“When will you be leaving?”

“What?”

“When will you be leaving? You said you were here on holiday, so when will you go back?” He asked. 

You stopped and thought. When will I go back? 

Go back.

Do I want to go back?

Can I go back after having a taste of what the world is outside of what I once knew?

“I leave in two days. Two days, yes.” You managed to say out almost in a flat voice.

“Why do you want to know?” You asked, you hadn;t turn your back to face him.

I want to see you again.

“ No reason in particular. I just thought you would be around to watch me and my sister perform in three days at the courts theater.” He said, there was a cheapness to his voice.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to go. I'm sorry.” 

“Yeah, Sounds like it.” Lyney dejectedly said. 

You step onto the bus and Melusine shoots up on it’s tiny feet. 

“ Leaving Marcotte Station!” They yelled. You sat down on one of the benches. You didn;t have the heart to look at Lyney as the bus started to move along the river.

You did however outstretched your hand behind your ear. The rose was still there. 

“ Ah, a rainbow rose? Oh oh! Did you have someone propose to you?” the Mesuline asked. 

“Wh-What?! What do you mean by ‘propose?!’ ” You shrieked. The Melusine set comfy on top it’s little pedestal.

“Oopsie, I’m sorry you probably don’t know the rumored implications of that rose do you?” They asked, tilting their head as their ears flopped to the side.

You shook your head.

“Well, since you're my only passenger for tonight, I suppose it’s okay for me to add on to the guidelines. And I’m tired right now.” It yawned.

“ When someone gifts you a Rainbow Rose, much like the one on you, it usually symbolizes passion and romantic encounters. It’s very common for couples here to gift each other a single rainbow rose or a bouquet of a dozen roses as a way to express their devotion to one another.” The Melusine mused. 

“Oh.”

“ But it’s also used to express platonic love for a dear friend or family. Flower gifting is a language that revolves around love no matter which kind.” It said happily. 

It hummed a little tune, and the boat sailed along.

“ But for it to be placed behind the ear, someone may be interested in you. Romantically I mean, haha.”

Oh dear…you might realize what the nickname he gave you means now.

“Ah- AHCHOO!” You covered your face as you sneezed.

“ Bless you!” the Melusine said.

You sniffled. Maybe it was the cold. 

Lyney had stood there watching the Aquabus get farther and farther away. He had his hat to his chest. 

He quickly placed his hat back on his head and walked back to the garden path.

There was no one around. He was alone.

Had his siblings made it back home yet? Probably.

The steps of his boots bore a fast and rhythmic pattern as he stepped.

His lips were in a flat line. His mind was preoccupied on many things. 

His sister, his brother, the rest of his siblings, “Father” and you.

You. He shook his head. 

He had a blast today. Although he had known Fontaine all his life, he practically lived on the stone walkways for a good part of his life, he never saw it like he did today. It felt new to him, a wondrous view!

Like that of an innocent curious child. Something that he never thought he would experience ever in his life.

He snapped away the thought. 

He made it past the fountain in front of the Opera House. Getting past the gates and the lonely lobby he made it into the audience area.

He had met you here. 

From when he was looking for a willing participant, he spotted you amongst the sea of eager people. 

He spotted you. You weren’t a local, perhaps a tourist. You intrigued him.

Foreigner’s often brought in the best source of intel. A web of secrets and truths hidden beneath the veil of illusions. The normal people and Magicians were similar in that aspect, despite the other living in ignorance. 

He never would have expected you to complete the trick well. Oftentimes, stage fright took a hold of the non troupe assistance, some on the spot improv would be on set in case the trick went off the rails. 

That is why Lyney wouldn’t often pick from the audience. It was a rare occasion. 

He would seek you out. Get you into a sense of comfortability, his silver tongue had a way of making people profess their hearts out to him. 

The world was a stage to him, and thus he must always perform his best. At least, that is what “Father” told him. 

You didn’t have much useful information. He was hoping for something more scandalous or perhaps a secret you were ashamed of. Instead, you were just some person seeking out the world that you never had stepped foot in despite being born into it. 

And yet.

Lyney sat down on one of the cushy seats of the audience area. He crossed on foot atop the other.

Why had he stayed with you today?

Perhaps he was afraid of seeing you upset if he left suddenly to shop for props he needed.

Maybe, he didn’t want to go back on his promise he made to you backstage. 

Maybe, he didn’t want to see your angry face if you found out the initial reason he asked you out. 

Lyney looked around, his eyes wandered to the stage. No one was performing. It was empty. The spotlight wasn’t shining down. It was devoid and completely useless to its intended purpose at the moment. 

Lyney had purposefully left out key information when you had asked about his background in magic.

You didn’t need to know of the desperate times where he pushed through with a smile while the tummies of he and his sister gurgled for food.

You didn’t need to know the cruelty of Nobility and their disgusting greed and wicked selfishness. 

You didn’t need to know about the House and the Fatui.

And you didn’t need to know about “Father”. 

Lyney exhaled. 

All of that would probably make you look down on him with disgust and fear. He much preferred to see a beautiful smile on you.

He didn’t need to see you again. You were useless to “Father”, to the grand scheme of he and his sibling’s mission. You would be a distraction, and distractions lead to silly avoidable mistakes.

Yes, that’s what “Father” would say to him.

And yet.

Lyney scrunched his face. He didn’t like feeling like this. He thought he was over this. After all, he had a home and a supportive family now. He shouldn't feel like this, he had his sister, little brother and the other younger ones to look after. 

And yet he wanted to see you again.

You made him feel like he had freedom. It wasn’t like the one he was granted when he and Lynette were free from being street rats. And strangely enough, it wasn’t like the freedom “Father” granted him when she took him away from the cruel mansion. 

He felt bliss with you. He felt like how the audience looked in the countless times he performed on stage.

Was that how it felt like to live normally? To live in bliss and ignore the world’s harsh reality, even for a few moments.

He used to stutter a lot as a young boy. Whenever his juvenile performances went wrong or a slip of the tongue in pronouncing large words. 

Yet he seemed to awfully flustered around you a lot of the time. 

He even gave you a Rainbow Rose of all things. 

It’s what felt the most appropriate he thought.

“ Oh no..” 

The realization hit him like a Mitachurl’s Axe.

“ Father is definitely going to kill me if she ever finds out about this. Lynette might as well.” He cried. 

“ACHOO!” 

“Ugh, I should’ve gotten out of the port sooner. I might come down with a cold.” He sniffled.

‘Maybe someone’s thinking of me.’ He thought. 

Before you went into your room, you had asked the reception for a vase you could borrow. They immediately noticed the flower on you and gave you a sneaky glance. Ignoring them, you went and filled the vase with water.

Before going to bed you placed the rose in the vase, on your nightstand so when the morning came it would get sun.

The last thing you saw when you fell into slumber was the rose. The memory of that charming magician is still vivid in your mind.

Perhaps, you could delay your trip back home.

After all, 

He did steal your heart and had yet to give it back.  

A/N: CWNCWNCONCON I WAS KICKING MY FEET AND CRYING WHEN I WORTE SOME PARTS CBKEBCIB The Fonatine siblings have a choke hold on me fr. Fontaine water giving that same energy that 3 am cold crispy tap water- I'm now tempted to make a Lynette x F!Reader fluff were they have a nice little tea party and make paper flower arrangements like cottage core girlfriends Tags: @b0rninh3ll @yukiaei @xiaossocksniffer @nayumeas @scarletrosesposts @sol3chu @rionah @jar-03

[kebriones]

Socrates is literally a disgusting pervert who gets off on small boys like Lysis but uses intellectual manipulation to perpetuate unequal power relations; Alcibiades calls him out for it unironically in the Symposium (warning Agathon) and you keep romanticizing this despite both Plato and Solon explicitly making laws that condemn the exploitation of young boys through pederasty.

τι τραβαω χρονιαρες μέρες...

1. Plato didn't make any laws. But even if he did, laws from 2k years ago do not affect what I'm allowed to do now, i think. Also have you actually read the Lysis?

2. I haven't studied in depth the laws of solon neither could i find anything with a cursory google search about any of his laws pertaining to the practice of pederasty. If you have a source for that I'd love to have it for future reference.

3. Agathon in the symposium is 30 years old I don't think he fits in this discussion.

4. I am not a historian or archaeologist or a scientist that studies these things. There are many people more qualified than me to talk about this matter and you can find them online if you actually care about this topic. However, from the few things i understand and have read, here's what i think: when discussing pederasty in ancient greece, we need to understand that several things were vastly different from what we now know and understand. Girls would be getting married at like 15, so boys would also be having lovers at that age. Many many older societies didn't have the knowledge we have about the detriment these things, like getting married at that age to an older man, can have on a person and yes, this is one huge problem that has existed in patriarchal societies since forever and still does exist in the world.

5. In classical athens specifically, the younger partner had a level of control over the relationship, although of course that didn't erase the power imbalance. Especially teens from rich families who were most likely to enter such relationships (because their primary function was to initiate future citizens into the adult life and politics, via a mentorship that for one reason or another included an erotic aspect) would always be accompanied by attendants to protect them from unwanted attention. There were rules for schools and gymnasiums to protect boys from getting harassed. It was up to the teenager to accept a lover who he thought would benefit him. Of course now we know more about maturity and power dynamics and so on, but these were different times. I don't know how much more to stress that we're talking about entirely different societies from 25 hundred years ago. Other societies around the world also had questionable initiation rituals and cultural practices that nowadays we know are terribly harmful.

6. If you actually read the symposium, Socrates specifically refuses Alcibiades' sexual advances when Alcibiades was in his late teens, and part of the reason why is that Alcibiades was too young.

7. I am always drawing Alcibiades as an adult, so what I'm "romanticizing" is love between two grown adults. Do I think that their relationship as described in plato had toxic elements? Sure. Do I agree that Socrates was manipulative in general? Sure. That's part of what makes their dynamic interesting to me. Alcibiades was also a powerful manipulative individual who did horrible things. He'd had lovers other than Socrates who probably did manipulate him in his teens for sex much more than Socrates is ever shown to do. This is also why I like their relationship, because Socrates loves Alcibiades as a person first and foremost, unlike literally everyone else around him who wants him because he's physically attractive.

8. Please just block me or something if I'm bothering you. This is the last anon ask of this kind I will be answering. Please READ stuff before forming opinions and going up to random people to complain about their art, so you can have better arguments. Have a nice day.

[asterdisaster06]

It Will Come Back

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

summary > hand to hand combat with an overly touchy simon

word count > 1.3k

cw > suggestive, but not explicit. romanticizing of yandere tendencies

a/n > Open ended one-shot, may come back to it if inspiration strikes

ao3

There’s something off about him. Simon Riley. Or Ghost as he’s known to his teammates - including you. Not off on the field or in training. Not off in the way that he shoots or reloads or checks over his weapons before the mission. Not off in his work ethic or the way he kills. Off in the way that he’s oh-so-domestic towards you. Indirectly, of course. In a way that you can’t prove when you tell someone that his behaviour irks you. What could you tell them? That you swear you can see him lurking in the shadows, stalking you, or that your personal things always seem to disappear? You’d seem aloof and distracted if not downright insane. 

And forget mentioning how kind he seems to you. Offering to lace up your boots or god-forbid, help you train. The small touches across your back or hands still make you shiver. There’s also the small gifts that appear on your bed, the very same one in the locked room, mind you. You’ve changed the locks at least a dozen times before Price told you to stop wasting time and resources. It made you want to scream before you began to question if the captain was in on it. You had brought up concerns before and they were conveniently brushed off. 

Of course, that was a completely absurd thought given the fact that you never named the perpetrator that was making you uncomfortable on your very own base. Even still, you would’ve thought that Price would have done more than simply question you. Every time you’ve brought it up he says that he’s ‘handling it’ so you stopped asking after a while. It elicits a sense of unease at the fact that you seemed to be on your own regarding this issue. 

The way he looked at you scared you almost as much as facing down the barrel of a loaded gun - something that you’ve done more times than you’d like to admit. It’s not as if you had a grudge against the man - far from it. You used to admire him as a Lieutenant and wanted to be close to him, worked to become close to him. That’s how you ended up on the 141 task force. A part of you still does, admire him that is. You’re unsure of exactly when this Stockholm-esque syndrome began, but there’s something in you that wants Simon in the same carnal way he wants you. The same way a rabbit begins to accept its fate belongs in the claws of the wolf. Thinking back on it all, you were beginning to regret your moxy. 

“Did you forget we had training today, love?”

This is exactly the shit you were talking about. Not that anyone believes you, nor did you have the confidence to tell them. Not after the last incident. You had met your wits end and basically begged Laswell to transfer you. Obviously, some grounds for your repositioning was required - which was where it went wrong. You had no solid evidence, a very good track record on the team, and Simon had knocked on the door as soon as you were about to explain yourself. If you had thought he wouldn’t have been able to weasel his way out of you screaming fraternisation at Laswell you would have shouted it all around base. That’s the lowest point your pride had ever been at. Turning tail and running wasn’t your proudest moment, but there was a certain threshold before fight turns into flight. 

“Princess?”

God, you hated that name. You couldn’t even hold it against him as it was your unfortunate callsign. You had never despised it this much before coming to this godforsaken place. You huff and shove yourself up from the couch - grumbling about missing the Uno game going on between Soap and Gaz.

“One more word out of your mouth besides ‘yes sir’ and it’s ten laps,” Simon glares at you.

You’re convinced he only makes you do laps because it allows him to stand and watch. Not like you can prove it, and sometimes he does run with you, but it feels almost impossible for that not to be the case. A little rabbit and the big wolf. 

“Yes sir,” You sigh.

“Atta girl.” His words send a shiver down your spine.

It’s always hand to hand combat with him. Always. You suppose it’s better than him micromanaging your shooting stance. A shiver passes through your body at the thought of him gripping your body and manipulating you however he pleases. Becoming pliable for him to mould into the perfect soldier. No, the perfect pet. At least this way you have a chance to fight back. A small voice in the back of your mind reminds you that Ghost probably likes the struggle. The power imbalance. Another one insists that you like it just as much if not more. You choose to ignore that last one. 

“Considering your performance on the last mission, I find it imperative that we work on your skills regarding escape,” Simon says sourly.

This was complete bullshit and you knew it. Biting your tongue like you’ve always done is becoming harder by the day. He’s referring to how you - under his orders - infiltrated a side hallway and got apprehended by two guards. Two guards that you had not been made aware of - you should have been considering Ghost himself had travelled that hallway not long ago. Of course, Simon rushed in to save you, ever the shining knight in armour. 

“Your only goal is to overpower me, by any means necessary,” Simon speaks, and you can almost hear the mirth through the baclava. It makes your hackles raise in fear of what this entails. 

Despite your on guard position, you somehow end up with your back on the floor. Your hands are roughly pinned above your head - an almost delightful strain running down your spine causing you to shiver under his grasp. His thighs entrap yours with his hips harshly pressed into yours. A shaky breath of air escapes your lungs at the suddenness of it all - nevermind how close your Lieutenants face is to yours. This wasn’t exactly how you expected to end up on your back for him, but you’d take what you can get. 

A moment of hesitation costs you your comfort as one of Simon’s gloved hands moves down from your wrists to your neck - gripping it tight enough to restrict some blood flow, but not air. It makes a soft whimper escape from you, your body keen to betray you. 

“Seems like someone’s enjoying this a little too much,” Simon chuckles, his eyes dark. 

“Fuck you,” You seeth, an escaped hand digging it’s claws into his collarbone. 

“Sorry, Princess. That’s off the table,” Simon grunts, almost amused.

You quickly turn on him, shoving him off of you and pressing a knee into his abdomen with the other one entrapping him in a similar fashion that he had done to you. Your hands keep his shoulders pinned to the ground, not taking any chances. 

“You know damn well that’s not what I was-” You’re cut off by Simon lifting one of his thighs to meet you, making your brain short circuit. 

“What was that?” You could hear the smugness in his words. 

“I’d say I won that, so there’s no need for this to continue,” You spit out, quickly retracting yourself from him. 

“If you say so,” Simon says, giving up weirdly easily. 

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Simon starts, standing up to tower over you. “Unless you had something else on your mind?”

“One thing.”

“Anything,” Simon whispers, and you’re unsure whether his tone elicits more excitement than fear.

“Admit to Price and yourself that you’re being a creep,” You hiss.

“Whatever do you mean, love,” Simon mocks.

“It was worth a try,” You huff, turning your back on him and walking off.

[hadassah4ever]

the three times they wished they kissed you, and the time you finally did (igby slocumb, greg hirsch)

warnings: alcohol use, sex mentions (no actual sex), reader being decently obvious, nothing too crazy, mild mild hurt/comfort

authors note: mother bird has come to feed you some regurgitated worms. i was going to add roman or tom in here, but i was already taking so long to finish the igby part, and i’m scared of making them ooc. enjoy tho. <3 (it’s 3 am and im barely awake. 💀)

word count: 3k

playlist (if you’d like): romanticizing my delusionship— https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6rLX5L9fLuEWueJz6lVaem?si=6gPlbG7LRLKd6aq_eNfp1g

igby slocumb

number one

Settling in was harder than Igby thought. He really didn’t think about how moving across the country with no roots in that area, or really anywhere, would affect him emotionally, but at least he was in California. A benign concept to his still frazzled brain, but he tried his hardest to block out any negative emotion, he got what he wanted, and that’s really all that mattered to him.

He found himself getting attached to strangers he thought were interesting due to the scenarios he made up in his head, and you weren’t safe from that. He first saw you studying in a cafe he frequented. Deducing the fact that you were probably only in there due to the fact that it was a particularly hot and humid day, and you were clearly studying for something considering the textbook sprawled in front of you, and by the fact that you were going over old notes.

His eyes grazed your facial features, but certainly for too long, as you moved your eyes from your notes to the young guy staring at you from across the cafe, he casually glanced away, but it was obvious he was just doing it just to avoid a staring contest with a random girl about 25 feet away from him. You quietly chuckled and playfully rolled your eyes at the fact that he didn’t even try to hide his staring problem, eventually he got sucked back into making eye contact with you, your eyes darting down to the empty chair in front of you, then back to him. Beckoning him with just your eyes.

It’s not every day he was asked to sit down with cute people at cafés, so maybe he’d seize this opportunity to get to know you.

number two

Neither of you were truly used to such mild autumn temperatures, being from different parts of the country. The fact that you moved from the more northeastern part of the states made him cling onto you even harder, you knew what it was like to pack up and leave everything behind, and he respected you even more for that.

“So, how’s college going?” He asked, not really knowing what else to talk about as you walked beside each other.

“Ew, small talk? Seriously, Igby, I thought you were better than that.” You spoke, playfully. “But, yeah, pretty boring. Can’t complain, though, considering I literally signed myself up for it.” You added. The dry, crunching leaves serving as white noise.

“I don’t really know what else to talk about. I’m not going to rant to you about… fucking… Kafka, like your little college boyfriends.” He replied, playing up his annoyance for laughs. “No, my college boyfriends talk about Dostoyevsky.” You joked back.

The way you two clicked was different, and also something he wasn’t used to, unlike anyone else who came before you, your chemistry was different, it was better. It was effortless.

“Have you made any new friends?” You asked. “Why do you care?” He retorted, not used to actually being cared about. “Because I can’t be your only friend. Sometimes I’m concerned for your social well-being.” You shrugged. “Although from your reaction, it’s safe to say no.” You glanced over to him and saw as he playfully rolled his eyes in defeat.

You really got him there. You really were his only friend, even though he truly wished you were more.

number three

As college picked up, you couldn’t help but wonder if there’s a life outside of California that would be worth pursuing. After you graduated, of course. It was still probably a mistake to bring it up so casually, you invited him over to have a relaxing night with a good friend. Instead you watched as his eyes slightly widened and his lips slightly curled into a frown.

“What? I— Where do you even wanna go?” Igby asked, clearly getting defensive, if you truly put two and two together, maybe you’d know truly how much he liked you. “Texas, maybe. Possibly Arizona.” You replied, pretending to think about it in the moment, but truthfully it was consuming your mind most of the time. “Who do you think you are? You wanna make out with a cowboy or something? What’s even over there? Tumbleweeds?” He bombarded you with questions, making it sound like he made California.

You inhaled slowly, to keep yourself from getting too angry at him. “I just really don’t know if California is my forever state. God forbid I try something new.” His simple offended demeanour swapped for a somewhat agitated one, “It’s not about that, it’s the fact that you’re so willing to leave me behind, you know you’re my only friend.”.

“Number one, I’d only leave after I graduate, and number two, whose fault is that? I’ve spoken endlessly about how you need to get some more friends and guess who didn’t follow my advice?” You ranted, irritation taking over your voice. Igby was left speechless, words escaping him aside from: “I’m leaving.”

He would be lying if he said you didn’t look hot while angry, but maybe that didn’t matter much anymore.

number four

You didn’t know if you wanted to be able to completely forget about Igby or have the lack of stubbornness to be able to go and apologise yourself. In reality, you had neither. Which is why you ran to pick up your phone when it began to ring, and how you ended up at his apartment door at 2AM with your tail between your legs.

When he heard you knock, he immediately opened the door, he was clearly standing right behind it, waiting for you. His gaze was fixed on the floor, it was odd to see the boy who was so snide and cynical look like a kicked puppy all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten angry.” He spoke in a voice that made you sure he’d been crying. “You know I can’t stay mad at you either. But I really shouldn’t have said some of that stuff, either.” You slowly began to move towards him, asking him if you could hug him without verbalising it, eventually you ended up with your arms wrapped around him. “You’re very likeable, and I don’t know how people don’t cling to your side and beg to be your friend.”

He stayed silent for a few seconds, just taking in the warmth of your arms and basically basking in it. He used his socked foot to close the door behind you, in preparation for what he was about to admit to.

“I— you probably know why I said that stuff though.” He basically muttered, you didn’t answer in embarrassment, feeling like you should know. “Fuck, I… think I love you.” He spoke, a bit nervous to actually speak the three words he was essentially waiting to drop on you.

You didn’t even hesitate on pressing your lips to his, the kiss was magical, like how they described in the romance novels that made middle aged women swoon, it was abstract. Like warm hospital blankets, like rain in the evening, it was domestic and comfortable.

He attempted to slide his hand up your shirt, knowing what he was trying to do, you redirected it to your waist, the rejection not embarrassing Igby too much. He almost respected you for it more, you could be intimate without sex, and that’s truly what he needed at that moment.

Tender and warm, you two were utterly entranced with the kind of young love that elderly ladies comment about, and maybe Texas didn’t matter to you much anymore.

greg hirsch

number one

You found yourself sitting outside of the venue for the latest Waystar party, right on the last step of one of the staircases outside, the air was wet which signalled the fact that it was most likely going to rain soon. You heard the small taps of dress shoes behind you, getting closer.

“Uh— are you o-okay?” Greg spoke, you didn’t even turn around. Greg was a mere work acquaintance, someone you swore you would try and talk to more, but never really ended up doing so. He seemed kind enough from the brief interactions you had, though, so you really didn’t mind him speaking to you while you were trying to escape the party atmosphere, at least for a few minutes.

“Yeah. Just needed some space.” You replied. A small, awkward silence fell between you as the chatter from the party continued behind you two. “W-Would it be… Could I join you?” He asked, trying to sound confident.

You glanced up at him, a soft look in your eyes, but the rest of your face didn’t portray much. “Yeah.” You answered, voice getting slightly higher in an attempt to sound as non aggressive as possible. He awkwardly smiled and nodded, moving down to sit beside you. His long legs were almost against his chest, in an attempt to copy how you sat, you watched in silent amusement as he tried to move around and get comfortable, before inevitably just letting his legs just rest in front of himself, completely straight like toothpicks.

“Sorry if I’m intruding or anything.” He said, more so out of muscle memory politeness than actually apologising. “Out of all the people who could’ve possibly come and sat down next to me, I think you’re the one I hate the least. Don’t apologise.” You told him in a slightly monotone and tired, yet genuine tone.

He felt a light blush overtake his cheeks and his brain stopped functioning for a second, he was searching for any possible words he could string together to charm you like you just unintentionally did to him, but nothing came, he just stared at you like a scared puppy and let out a “Thank you.” that bordered on being muttered.

You didn’t really speak much on the steps, but there was a mutual sense that you didn’t really have to.

number two

“Er— y/n?” You heard Greg say behind you, you softly swung your desk chair around to look at him. “Do you wanna like… Come over after work? I’ve got a uh— bottle of wine and yeah.” The end of his sentence didn’t really sound like the end, sounding more like he just ran out of words. You nodded and gently smiled. “I’d love to, Greg.”

———

You knew that as soon as he uncorked the bottle it was never going to just be one glass. That was kinda just how wine worked, and at this point, you were tipsy enough to have no filter, but not enough to be full blown drunk, which meant you were both opening up about every little thing in your life like it was the end of the world. After a particularly deep question, you didn’t really know if there was much else to talk about.

Greg spoke up, trying to keep the conversation going anyway. “So… what do you think of like, ATN and st—“ “Could we save that kind of talk for the office? Not to be rude or anything.” You interrupted, Greg completely stopped and nodded. “I— yeah, yeah.” His voice got higher to show his non-confrontational-ness. “Sorry. I just swear I get a migraine when I remember what the company I work for actually stands for.” You joked, trying to cut the tension. “No, no. I understand.” He replied through an awkward chuckle.

There was a silence that was reminiscent of the night on the stairs but much more awkward. Greg took another chance to speak with you, “Have you, y’know… been in any relationships recently?” He asked, a realisation set in for you, the tone in his voice wasn’t casual enough. He liked you.

“Mmm…” You pressed your lips together and looked up in thought. “Nothing too recent, clearly. Dating in New York is weird.” You answered and looked at him to signal his response. “Yeah. Same. At least not lik—L-long term.” He rushed out, trying to lean back slightly on his sofa and look confident and suave, clearly you saw through it, though. The stutter not helping his case.

“Not gonna lie, that’s a bit odd to me. In my mind you seem like the kind of guy to either have a pretty decent girlfriend.” You stopped yourself from saying the last bit, but it ended up flowing out anyway. “Or fuck Tom. But either way you seem… Dateable. Compared to some of the people I’ve met here, at least.” You shrugged, feeling some of your own awkwardness come out of hiding.

He didn’t really know how to reply to that, he glanced down from your eyes to your lips then back at your eyes. He was feeling kind of lightheaded, your lips just looked too kissable, a thought which he knew wasn’t sparked from the alcohol, it was lingering on his brain for a while, fantasies about taking you out on a date and kissing you afterwards like a proper gentleman ran through his mind for most of the day, which was embarrassing to admit.

“Yeah cool, uh— you too!” He chuckled nervously, getting slightly sobered up by his own adrenaline. You just smiled and softly nodded, Greg felt something impending which never came to fruition. Your smile was like the whooshing of a guillotine through the air to him, he assumed it was you preparing to lean over and press your lips to his.

He was wrong about that.

number three

It was raining and you’d completely forgotten your umbrella like the idiot you are. It wasn’t just a tolerable drizzle, it was essentially pouring, Greg saw this as his opportunity to be in his own cheesy rom-com and offer to walk you home. Much to his surprise, you accepted. He really thought you’d just get a ride from one of your friends or get an Uber, but his heart definitely skipped a beat when you accepted.

His heart continued to skip beats when your shoulder would brush against his arm, he felt weird. He felt creepy feeling this way, but he really couldn’t change it. It was mostly silent aside from the occasional comment on how hard it was raining. You two knew how much you wanted to kiss each other, it was almost like if you tried to hold a normal conversation, you’d black out and wake up married to him with 2 kids in a typical suburban life.

His rom-com idea was cut short with you arriving at the front of your apartment. He didn’t even know if he could say goodbye without feeling a small ache in every inch of his body, but he did anyway. He stood looking into the glass of the front doors as you walked away, maybe you didn’t really like him in that sense. The only time you really showed clear interest in him was after 4 glasses of wine.

number four

You didn’t really know what you did to fuck up. Yeah, you two didn’t make out on the front steps to the entrance of your apartment, but you didn’t really know if that was grounds to stop talking to you. Honestly, you didn’t really know what to feel, so you defaulted to feeling pissed off at him.

Did you have a reason? Yeah. Kind of. Sorta. A little. Maybe.

In reality, Greg didn’t know what to say about that night. Was he supposed to apologise? Were you supposed to apologise? Did either of you have to? He had no idea. The need to kiss you was overwhelming at this point, if he saw a genie and only had one wish, kissing you would be the wish that rolled off his tongue in milliseconds. On the other hand, you were confused. Not really putting in any thought to thinking about what you actually wanted, you decided on closure.

The idea of your apartments being on the path to each other felt like divine intervention, but dear god was it hard to keep up with that lanky ass man.

“Greg.” You projected. Not necessarily a shout, but loud enough where he could hear you, you had very few people around so that was a plus too. His body completely took over and he immediately stopped and turned around to see you borderline running to catch up with him.

He didn’t know if he should’ve turned back around or stayed, but it felt like he was being weighed down, his feet completely anchored to the sidewalk and he watched you with a sympathetic and anxious look as you finally reached him.

“Fuck. I really didn’t plan what I was going to say. What did I do to you? You’ve been avoiding me like I fucking— killed your mom or something!” The frustration that came out shocked you, but you still spoke at a reasonable volume. “I— honestly, I don’t know.” He answered, realising he didn’t know why he stopped talking to you, cold turkey.

“I think that’s the worst part… I— do you even like me?” His voice had both an anger and sadness oozing out of it. “Of course I like you—.” You replied. “No, you know in what capacity I’m talking about. You don’t know how much you fucking affect me, y/n, just…” He trailed off, his typical anxious stutter gone.

You held the signature somewhat awkward pause that always graced your conversations and nodded. “You’re right. I know what you mean. And if you don’t fucking kiss me right now I’m going to go insa—“ He didn’t even wait for you to finish before he dove down and pushed his lips against yours in a very new display of confidence. His kisses weren’t very skilled, but fulfilling nonetheless.

He pulled back and looked down at you, your lips slightly rosier and held a look of ‘did I just fuck up?’ in his eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He spoke, his breathing heavy and quick, slowing down when he remembered you asked him to kiss you, and when he saw your extremely happy smile.

“Don’t you dare apologise, Greg. Kiss me again.” You chuckled, cheeks slightly pink and your voice filled with a lightness that eased him. You didn’t have to ask him twice and he bent over, much more gently, and kissed you again.

Jesus, he could do that all day.

[lozerboylucas]

At our very core, what drives us is that blissful feeling of control.

(doodle + headcanons)

Ren doodle I made within a train. Wondering how many people walked past me, noticed and thought I was just some furry.

https://youtu.be/Z8oinwSEtqs?si=BkekMPfrMQBR1L2A

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Whilst drawing this I started thinking of stuff which then turned into headcanons. Just felt like sharing ^^

-During the time period MC was unconscious after the murder of Lawrence, Ren was still struggling to set his mind into the role of "the new Strade". It took him a good while to feel even a little less discomfort and doubt with himself in Strade's old clothes.

-Strade had the "rank symbol" tattooed on him. He never had it as a part of his clothing. Instead, Ren, who was alone during his two year time period of trying to recover from the sudden turn of events, decided to add the patch himself in order to feel more "connected" to Strade.

-In the early days of being alone, Ren was too anxious to go get groceries on his own. Instead he would sneak out and steal something from the neighboring houses or resort to things like hunting birds or small animals.

-Ren has crashed Strade's old car atleast twice by accident (it took him a while to learn to drive it properly)

-Gato has stated that Ren doesn't like showers, and much prefers baths. In my opinion this is 1. Because the water droplets feel weird to him. I feel like Strade had one of those weirdly rough kind of showers. The way the water sprinkles on him feels unnatural 2. He grew up homeless and would often have to tolerate rain, so showers and rain bring back some bad memories (as if he had any good ones to begin with), and 3. Because of his past experiences with Strade and the shower of the house (referring to that one old drawing Gato made. Not going into further detail.) This applies to pretty much any form of spraying water, wether that be one of those weird yard machines that I just KNOW Strade or atleast some of his neighbors do, or even just a simple spray bottle.

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Also I feel I need to mention this:

⚠️ I absolutely DO NOT condone any of the actions displayed within these types of games, nor should anyone.

Glorifying or romanticizing abusive behavior is shitty. The amount of people I've seen say shit like "I wish I was in Ren's place" or blatantly ship Strade with Ren is fucking crazy. I find this genuinely concerning, as it's made pretty clear that there is nothing, NOTHING romantic about their relationship. It was a blatantly abusive bond no matter how you put it, and such behavior should never be approved of. With this in mind, if you DO romanticize these kinds of relationships, even if, and ESPECIALLY if it's a way of coping, please seek help and discuss your trauma. This is seriously harmful to both you and others. Please acknowledge the fact nothing about this behavior is okay, fictional or not. You deserve to get better. Keep yourself and others safe. Thank you ❤️

[rambleonwaywardson]

I didn’t expect the delicious morsel of your space boys today 😭 Bucky you sweet dork making Gale roll his eyes and blush omg I adore them so much! It really is 10/10 💖

I do have a question, that might be addressed in the epilogue maybe? But I gotta ask it now because I can’t stop thinking about your boys. I feel that they are already suffering from PTSD but I was thinking about going into space, would John actually be able to go through it again? Would Gale be able to do it? And I know Bucky laughed it off with that reporter but would he really be able to watch Gale go to the moon without panicking?

Hi hello. I’ve been thinking about this ask for days thank you (legitimately). Long response incoming.

I don’t expect this will be addressed much in the epilogue based on the timeline I’m planning. However, if I get my shit together and do what I want to do to extend this universe, it’ll come up eventually!

You’re right, this experience was very traumatic. I would not say they’re already suffering from PTSD in a clinical sense, but they are currently struggling to work through what happened and what is still very much happening, and there is of course a lot of room for PTSD to more fully develop. So how does that affect their future careers?

In terms of Artemis 4, I don’t think Gale will have too much mental/emotional difficulty. As they say, they know the risks. Yes, this was extremely traumatic, and it’s hard to work through in many ways, but as Bucky says in chapter 19, the thing that went wrong was small, a freak accident, wrong place wrong time. There are about a million risks like that on every space mission that they train for and anticipate but try not to fear. This is what John and Gale were metaphorically bred for, and even though it may be more difficult mentally than before, this is who they are. They’re not giving it up, and I’ll be damned if I don’t give Gale a good mission 🥺

(Also, they WILL be undergoing extensive counseling leading up to A4 trust me!!!)

I think Bucky, ultimately, will have more difficulty during Artemis 4 than Gale will. As you kind of implied, he’s now in the place of worrying about his husband from the ground, unable to intervene should something go wrong. That will likely be very difficult for him no matter how much faith he puts in his husband… (more on that, potentially, eventually…)

As for another mission for Bucky. Ugh. That’s harder to think about. It is highly unlikely that, even at peak physical and mental health, he would be selected for an additional moon mission any time in the near future (though never say never I suppose?). He fully believes that he wants to go back, that he could handle going back, but psychologically, that may be in part because he doesn’t think he ever will actually get to. He lived his dream. Before it went to hell, it was everything he wanted it to be. Let him romanticize that.

That being said, he’s still a professional astronaut. It’s what he loves to do.

I think there is at least a chance he could go back to the station after a lot of healing and therapy. The ISS is very different from Artemis in so many ways, beginning with the fact that it’s far more predictable and ending with the fact that it only takes a few hours to get back to Earth from there. Bucky’s spent quite a lot of time up there before. It’s something he knows, is familiar with, is good at. I think, mentally, that would be a very different experience from being on the moon, and it would remain a possibility for his future.

Okay. I’ve put a lot of thought into this. I’ll continue to put a lot of thought into this. And you can probably tell that I’m working through what I believe would be realistic not only for Buck and Bucky, but for modern, more emotionally regulated versions of them. And what I think is reasonable for addressing their emotional struggle while also maintaining the careers they love.

It’s not an easy problem to solve, and there’s a lot of ways it could go. Thank you so much for giving me this space to think about it ❤️

[hoeneymilktea]

deciphered ✧ tooru oikawa chapter 17 | enigma's secret

Your cousin, Hajime Iwaizumi—whom you haven't seen in a long time, invited you to support him at the largest street racing event in Tokyo. He told you he was a part of the Seijoh Brawlers, one of the notorious top five gangs affiliated with the underground street racing scene. Once he introduced you to his leader, Tooru Oikawa, a.k.a. Cypher—your interest piqued, curiously wanting to understand the true meaning behind his alleged nickname.

✧ pairing — tooru oikawa / afab reader ✧ genre — erotica/smut, action romance, crime romance, dark romance (absolutely no dv/sa), psychological thriller, crime/detective mystery ✧ rating — very explicit, 18+ mdni ✧ chapter word count — 15.0k ✧ content warnings — violence, street racing, references to drugs, explicit sexual content, heavy angst. see below break for chapter specific warnings ↴

author's note — This fanfic is inspired by the beautiful and amazing fanart of Street Racer AU Tooru Oikawa. Artist is @aikk00. disclaimer — I do not condone the romanticization of the yakuza or the reality of gang life as I intended not to portray that kind of interpretation, nor promote the activity of illegal street racing. Do not seek out these types of experiences as this work is just a piece of fiction. Please remember to read at your own risk.

midnight streets ⇠ enigma's secret ⇢ black and blue

✧ chapter specific content warnings: minor character death, childhood abandonment

“I got five on it…”

Nagoya, Aichi Prefecture — Summer, fourteen years ago

The stench of rotting rubbish dispersed through the summer air, slowly trickling into the noses of the children kicking a ball to each other within the alleyway. Although they scrunched their eyebrows and pinched their noses; they continued their game nonetheless, running in circles with their open-toed sandals.

“Rin, I’m open here!” One of the boys called out to Suna, waving his arms over his head. He nodded and kicked the ball to the other kid’s direction, watching it maneuver through the grime and scour of the alleyway concrete.

At the time, Suna was only nine years old, living in one of the poorest neighborhoods of Nagoya. He resided primarily with his mother and younger sister, as his father was rarely home due to constant business trips. On the best occasion, he’d be home for about two days out of the whole month. Though, most of the time, he’d be gone for weeks on end, sometimes going months without coming home—yet, this didn’t bother Suna at all.

His mom mentioned it was because his father worked for a business all the way out in Osaka, so it was best for him to rent out a small space out in the city and come home from time to time. He used to visit more frequently when Suna was younger, but as the years progressed, his visits would become more sparse, dwindling by each one.

Suna’s mother worked as a caregiver at the local nursing home, which meant money was usually tight. It was hard to get by living paycheck to paycheck—and if she got sick, Suna would unfortunately have to skip out on some meals while they made sure his sister was well fed. Sometimes his dad would send back money to help out, but just like his visitations, the frequency of the checks sent over began to dwindle as well.

His younger sister was still a baby, so Suna ended up having to take care of her whenever his mother worked the late night shifts. Whenever he arrived home from school, she would pass her off to him before she went to work, which also meant he barely got to see his mom as well. Throughout all of the struggle, Suna still didn’t mind, as he thought his life was something normal to live through.

Suna rarely knew his father. He didn’t even know which company he worked for; only the fact he just worked for one. Sometimes he forgot what his father looked like, even though his mother would constantly remind him that he resembled his dad to a stark preciseness. Despite the absence of his father, Suna still admired him greatly to where one day, he aspired to be just like him.

His mother adored his father as she spoke very highly of him—constantly praising his adorned looks, his work ethic, and how lovingly he treated her. She mentioned they met at the nursing home she worked at, where she was the caregiver for his old, senile, and mute grand-uncle. Unfortunately, Suna’s great-grand-uncle passed away shortly after that, but his parents’ relationship continued to live on, and eventually they got married and had Suna soon thereafter. 

All was well from the memories he could recall, and for a long time, their lives were decently quiet. Although they lived in a shabby run-down apartment complex in the poorest district of Nagoya, young Suna was happy—and that’s all he needed, truly.

After a long day of playing outside with his friends, the sun turned bright orange on the horizon, slowly setting for the night. Suna said his goodbyes to the neighborhood kids and made his way back up the five flights of stairs to his apartment on the top floor, trotting up triumphantly with each step.

His maroon tank top was dirty from playing in the alleyway, and he knew his mom would get upset at him again for it. He tried his best to dust it off before entering through the door, but before he grabbed the handle, he heard a long, drawn out wail of anguish erupting from his mother on the other side.

Suna didn’t waste a second more before he swung open the door and saw his mother sobbing on the kitchen floor with her head buried deep into her palms. Her white cotton dress was drenched with the flood of tears spilling from her eyes. His baby sister stood up in her crib and was crying herself too, mostly likely stressed from their mother collapsing straight to the floor. The home phone was shattered on the kitchen tiles with a persistent dial tone still ringing, sitting next to his mother’s foot.

“Mom?!” Suna worried, quickly rushing to her without closing the apartment door. “Mom, what’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?!”

He reached his arms out and grabbed his mother’s wet hands, taking them away from her face as she continued to sob violently. He looked straight into her eyes and realized the joy his mother would radiate, even on the worst of days—it was entirely drained out from body, leaving a vessel that was completely vapid and void of any soul or will to continue on.

Soon, Suna began to shed tears himself where he could feel the warmth of his cheeks beginning to erupt. He held tighter to his mother’s hands while her head dangled in misery. “Mom! What happened?!”

His mother went mute and ignored his further questions; only the sound of sorrow was to be heard throughout the apartment. Her cries were so loud that the old woman living next door scurried to their unit to check if everything was okay before promptly calling the ambulance. Suna was left in dismay, bursting into a rush of tears as his mother laid still against the kitchen cabinets while he was comforted by the old woman. Soon after, she was wheeled away to the back of the vehicle, her fate ultimately lying within the paramedics’ hands.

There was something viscerally disturbing about the way his mother was almost lifeless and unresponsive on the gurney to the ambulance. Behind that phone call must have been extremely disturbing for her to react that way, especially when she was usually so calm and collected with almost any experience in life. Suna was left that day with more questions that he could think of, wondering what happened during that phone call.

While his mother was in the hospital, the old woman next door took care of Suna and his baby sister for a few days. She made some mediocre food, but at least she gave him a package of jelly sticks he would sometimes share with his sister. It soon became his favorite snack, almost in a coping way that eased his ruminating mind.

After the third day of his mother’s rest in the hospital, Suna overheard the elderly woman talking on the phone while making dinner for them. He hid behind a small corner that was tucked behind the main entrance to the kitchen, slowly peeking his head out to hear the conversation.

“Can’t the police do anything?!” The elderly woman raised her voice while she neglected the pot of soup boiling over on the stove. She sighed in disbelief, pinching the bridge of her nose while holding the phone up to her ear.

The topic was about his father and how she was stressed at the fact he wasn’t the one taking care of his kids—all until she found out he disappeared straight out of the blue, abandoning his family. Suna didn’t know when this happened, but he assumed from the lack of calls, letters, and financial support coming in that this was something he had planned to gradually phase out of—ultimately abandoning his family without a trace. 

The old woman responded in a harsh tone to the person she was talking to, asking for clarification on the situation. “What do you mean by disappeared? His kids are still here! He can’t just abandon them like that!”

Suna choked back tears falling from his eyes, swallowing down whatever pride he had regarding the integrity of his father. It was the last thing he wanted to hear, hoping the phone call was about his father and that he would be on his way to take care of him and his sister—but unfortunately, it was the exact opposite. He refused to accept that his father, his one and only role model, the man he looked up to—abandoned and betrayed him.

After that day, Suna no longer felt the thread of connection to his father. On some days, the cuts could be felt again, slicing through the fabric of his trust.

Osaka Prefecture — Winter, four years ago

“Don’t even bother trying to contact him,” Suna’s mother scolded, wincing at the thought of her son wanting to see her estranged ex-husband, let alone desiring to reconcile their relationship after a decade of abandonment. “He’s nothing but a coward, a piece of shit. You know exactly what he did to our family, he betrayed all of us.”

Suna sighed while pushing a piece of grilled chicken on his plate with his chopsticks, resting his head upon his palm. He knew this would have been her reaction; and he was beginning to regret even asking for her help in the first place.

His mother, once beaming full of sunshine and radiant energy, was now filled with resentment and hatred for his father suddenly disappearing and abandoning his family. She had any right to be this way, but her disdain has lasted for a decade with the same passion of hate for him since day one. Suna would have thought already that she might have forgiven and forgotten the past, but unfortunately she was the type to hold strong grudges.

His sister was no different. She was only a baby when he left, which only made her become estranged from him as well. Suna was sure she didn’t even remember what their father looked like as he’s never once tried to visit the both of them in the decade he had been absent. While being raised only by Suna’s mother, by default, she had no interest in forming a relationship with him either.

Though Suna on the other hand had different intentions. He planned to see his father once more, wishing to rekindle their relationship. To his mother and sister, his desire seemed out of place, especially after what he did to them—but despite their opposition, Suna was now an adult that could make his own decisions.

 After all these years, he still had no way of contacting him. His mother refused to help, proclaiming over and over that it would be a huge mistake he would be making bringing that man back into his life. Regardless of her opinions, she genuinely could not help in regards to where one could find the man; she was just as clueless as he was.

Though, there was only one piece of evidence Suna could rely upon—each year, close to the end of January, a check for one million yen always arrived at their residence. His mother never knew who sent them, and even tried to ask the bank if it was a counterfeit. Yet, the checks never bounced back, and each year, she deposited them accordingly.

She tried calling the place that sent them, asking why they were giving her money and if it was truly meant for her—for three consecutive years, they gave her the same answer: it was a proxy service that didn’t disclose their clients. After that, she stopped calling and accepted the checks whenever they came; she usually took Suna and his sister out to eat at a nice place for his birthday.

Once Suna was old enough to know what was going on, he had a suspicion it was coming from his father. Although the checks were nowhere near the amount to financially sustain two kids for the whole year, it was still enough evidence to assume it was child support. Suna did a little bit of research and found the amount on the check was just a little over the required amount needed to financially support two children for a full year in Japan. Granted, it was the national minimum, but nonetheless, the numbers added up.

On Suna’s 19th birthday, right before his mother deposited the check, he made sure to write down the name of the proxy service that was sending his family the money. It went by the name of Schweiden Adlers Inc, a seemingly foreign-operated proxy for Japanese businesses. Its headquarters were out in Tokyo, which was a long way from Nagoya—nonetheless, Suna was going out on a journey to investigate.

While on the phone with the proxy company, he was told to meet with a man named Utsui; nothing more than just a last name, presumably. During their phone call, Utsui was frequently dismissing Suna’s inquiry about the source of where the money was being sent from, almost like he didn’t want someone near him to hear their conversation. All he told Suna was to meet him at the Scheiden Adlers Inc building where his office was located, and he promised he would help him.

Suna wasn’t sure why he wanted to reconcile his relationship with his father. In fact, he understood why his mother and sister wouldn’t want to, but there was something urging him to reach out. He told his family it was for money reasons, or for him to get business or networking connections, but deep down, he didn’t want to admit he still wanted to have a father figure around in his life. He missed his father deeply, hoping by some miracle he would say the same about him. Why else would he still be sending money to support them?

Suna tried to keep it cool, especially around the mention of his father by other people—but on occasion, he cried himself to sleep at the thought of not having him around anymore. His father left at such a critical age for Suna where his presence had already made a lasting influence on his attachment and abandonment issues. Yet, despite the many reasons he has to hate his father, there wasn’t much to persuade him otherwise. He still believed there could be a relationship between them, and Suna would rather die trying than to never have tried at all.

Much to his mother’s warning and pleading, Suna packed his bags and took a trip to find out more information about his father out in Tokyo. It was a risk he was willing to take in order to have his father back into his life again.

He attended the first bullet train of the day a week after his birthday, promptly departing the Nagoya train station around five in the morning. He left a note to his mother and sister, letting them know he would be in Tokyo for the week and will return back, asking them what souvenirs or special items they would like for him to bring for them. Suna placed it on the kitchen table and quietly left the quaint apartment that he had always grown up in since birth.

The bullet train took no more than two hours to travel from Nagoya station to Tokyo station, arriving in the big city around seven in the morning. It was a pleasant experience for Suna, as he never once traveled outside of Nagoya before. A blend of  excitement and anxiousness washed over him, overwhelmed by the busy and bustling city of Tokyo.

The moment he stepped off the bullet train, he was already being pushed by several business men heading to work for the day. He stumbled off the platform, dropping his bags in the process while a swarm of people boarded the next ride. Suna dusted off his pants and picked up his bags, expecting this sort of behavior from subway users, not those taking the bullet train. Perhaps the people living in Tokyo were just behaviorally different from the rest of Japan.

Suna took a taxi to the outskirts of southern Shinjuku where the Schweiden Adlers Inc building was located. He had an “appointment” with Utsui around eight in the morning, hoping he wouldn’t arrive late to their meeting. Suna arrived just ten minutes before, rushing in with two duffel bags into a white and pristine office lobby.

The two women behind the desk were startled by his grand entrance, watching a teenaged Suna panting heavily from running a few blocks away where the taxi dropped him off, afraid he’d miss his appointment if he was left to sit in the morning Tokyo traffic. He placed his bags on one of the waiting chairs and placed his hand on his chest, trying his best to catch his breath. The women were eyeing his every movement, wondering why someone as young as Suna was in the lobby of the proxy company, deviating from the demographic of their usual clients.

He soon walked up to the front desk, placing his hands on top of the counter before mustering up the courage to speak. “Uh, I have an appointment at eight with Utsui?” 

“Your name?” One of the women asked with a snarky attitude, typing away at her computer while the other sat in the other chair, filing her nails away.

“Last name, Suna; first name, Rintarou,” he responded clearly, curling his fingers toward his palms. He shifted his mouth to the side while gulping down any nervousness he experienced, hoping they would tell him right away where to go.

“He’ll be out to get you soon. Have a seat in the waiting area.” The woman responded with a smile on her face in a condescending tone, shooing him away from the front desk.

Suna gritted his teeth and swallowed his pride, walking back over to his items on the chairs before he plopped himself down, heaving out a very heavy sigh. He didn’t understand Tokyo manners, let alone the manners of anywhere but Nagoya. All he did was place his hands in his jacket pockets, waiting for the appointment to start.

Sooner or later, a deep voice called out his name into the empty waiting room, shattering the silence. Suna lifted his eyes up to find a mid-sized man no taller than him peek out from behind the office doors, waving his hand up in the air at him. “Suna Rintarou?”

Suna took a pause before scurrying to collect his things off the waiting chairs next to him and proceeded to bolt straight to him, lugging his things over his shoulder. The man he believed to be Utsui shook his hand, greeted him promptly, and opened the door into the main office.

Once inside, Utsui led him through rows and rows of cubicles, filled with business men looking exactly like him, typing away at their computers with hunched backs. Suna observed their behaviors, watching them all in synchronized motions like robots in a manufacturing plant. It was oddly eerie to him, but nonetheless he followed Utsui to the back of the office.

He stopped in front of an empty cubicle, heading inside to pull out the chair for Suna to sit in. As soon as the both of them settled down in their respective chairs, Utsui cleared his throat and smiled brightly at Suna. “Hiya, Rintarou. I didn’t properly introduce myself—I’m Takashi Utsui, senior supervisor for the proxy affairs department.”

Suna reached out and shook his hand, nodding in place. “Hi, Mr. Utsui. I’m Rintarou Suna, the one who called a while ago.”

“Yes, yes!” Utsui clapped, turning to his computer before logging into his work account. “The one from Nagoya! Thank you for meeting me. I hope your journey here wasn’t too long, and that Tokyo welcomed you with good spirits.”

Suna shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest before leaning back into his seat. “Eh, it wasn’t too bad. Tokyo’s very different from Nagoya though.”

Utsui nodded his head along Suna’s response, typing away at his computer like the other businessmen he observed earlier. He sat upright on his chair at the edge of the seat, typing continuously at his desk, seemingly writing up a report before focusing his attention back on Suna. Right as he was done, he sighed and reclined back into his chair, swiveling himself towards Suna with an entirely changed aura.

“Alright…” Utsui’s voice became soft rather than upbeat and cheerful from earlier; his facial expression dropping to an almost austere demeanor. He propped his elbows up on his desk and folded his hands, resting his chin on his fingers. “...we cannot talk too loudly now.”

Suna’s eyes widened, wondering why there was a change in behavior from him. “How come?”

“One of the reasons why I did not want to talk about your inquiry through the phone is the fact that all calls are recorded here at Schweiden Adlers,” Utsui began, leaning his head closer to Suna, finally whispering his final words. “...and what I’m about to disclose to you is extremely illegal.”

Suna froze in place, trying to comprehend exactly what Utsui just said. Illegal? Why? All he wanted was to know who kept sending the checks to his family—and to confirm if it was really from his father. Despite the confusion, Suna nodded his head in agreement, hoping Utsui would elaborate further.

“So, I could potentially lose my job by telling you this information,” Utsui started off, cracking his knuckles in the process. “But, I’ve had enough. I’m tired of hiding the truth.”

Suna’s curiosity piqued. “Please, go on…”

For the next hour, Utsui went on to reveal that Schweiden Adlers Incorporated was a loan and proxy business for government agency affairs, mainly dealing with officials that prefer to cover up where money was being sourced and sent from. Particularly, one of their biggest clients were men employed by the Public Security Intelligence Agency sending out their required child support for the families they’ve created and abandoned while on missions.

Unfortunately for Suna, he was part of the many families personally victimized by these undercover agents on missions. Utsui explained that he used to be employed by the PSIA and also created a false family of his own, ultimately being forced to abandon the children he raised once the mission was over. His regret was so burdening on his conscience that he quit his high-paying position at the Intelligence Agency to rekindle with his children again, one of which he mentioned was around the same age as Suna.

Tears began to stream down his face once he began to connect the dots. That was the reason why his father left months at a time very frequently while he grew up—that was the reason why he traveled so far for work to places all over Japan. Suna was baffled to know there was actually a reason as to why his father’s abandonment was so out of the blue, seemingly coming from nowhere.

This sort of information was hard to process, knowing his father had been forced to reject him and his family—but somehow, he still believed there was a way for a rekindling. In fact, he assumed there was still a possibility due to the fact Utsui was able to do so with his own children. Perhaps his father wasn’t able to reach out all these years because he was forced to, not because he didn’t want to.

To Suna, there was still hope.

“This is the reason why I wanted to provide you with this classified information… I would have wanted the same for my kids if they ever wanted to reach out.” Utsui comforted, trying his best to console the young man through the difficult news.

“I don’t understand,” Suna whispered, weeping through his words. “So, what you’re saying is that my dad is an undercover agent?”

“Yes,” Utsui nodded, swiveling his chair towards the back of his cubicle drawers. Out of the blue, he unlocked one of his file cabinets and revealed a small laptop and began typing intensely on the keyboard. “I’m not letting you leave without knowing where to find your father. Anyone in the PSIA is hard to contact without an invitation from the inside, but luckily for you, I’m here to help.”

Within that moment, Utsui provided Suna with a file filled with details about his father’s occupation, home address, and phone number—all confidential information behind the business affairs agreement between Schweiden Adlers Inc and the PSIA. He pulled up the proxy information relevant for him to find his father, hopefully giving him the tools to reconcile their relationship.

Once Utsui printed out all the files, Suna carefully opened the folder to reveal paragraphs of information—most of which was describing user agreement details written by the proxy party, but upon further inspection, the papers revealed much more than what Utsui promised. When Suna flipped to the third page of the document, his stomach dropped.

There on the top right held the picture portrait of his father, just as he remembered him. He had light skin and thin sage green eyes just like Suna, coupled with a short slick-back haircut, reminiscent of a military high and tight cut. He looked exactly like an older version of Suna with shorter hair; the same smug smile on the left side of his face.

All his life, Suna thought his father’s name was Daisuke Suna, obviously taking on his father’s last name—though the registered name on his file was not recognizable in the slightest. Written at the top left of the page was the name ‘Kenji Yamasaki’, born August 29th, 1972. Below was his current address and phone number, along with detailed statements of all the child support payments out from his linked PSIA paychecks.

What fully confirmed this man was truly his father was the addressed recipient of the child support—Hinari Sato, Suna’s mother. Below her name was the address of their apartment, along with the names of her two children, Rintarou and Chiyo Suna.

Suna’s hands began to tremble while holding the folder, rereading his father’s real name over and over again until his vision was blurred with tears. Processing all of this information at once was borderline unbearable, trying his hardest to withhold the urge to break down right then and there at Utsui’s cubicle. He closed the file before reading any further, placing it gently onto the desk.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot to take in all at once,” Utsui reached out over the desk and placed his hand on Suna’s shoulder while he trembled in his seat, resisting more tears from streaming down his face. “But you’re not going to get it easier any other way.”

Utsui mentioned he was a retired TMPD officer before he began working for Sweiden Adlers Inc. He mentioned to call his former department deputy—Tanji Washijou, if he was ever interested in a career working for the city police, and to mention Utsui sent him. Suna said he would keep his offer in mind since he wasn’t sure what to do with his career path, but otherwise he left Schweiden Adlers Inc that day with a heavy heart.

Suna spent the rest of his day sitting in the room of his cheap hostel, sitting atop his simple futon mattress on the floor, staring intensely at the rest of his father’s file encompassed within the darkness. He researched further into his father’s profile, discovering much more than he expected.

His father’s address was not far from the hostel he was staying at, so he planned to visit soon while still in Tokyo. He lived in the small family neighborhood of Naritahigashi within Suginami City, a town over from the edge of Shinjuku. It was only a subway ride away from the north end of Shibuya, so Suna sought out the next morning to head over.

With his father’s address put into his GPS, Suna made the quick journey over to the neighborhood of Naritahigashi. It was around the afternoon on a Saturday, hoping he would be home to answer. Suna fiddled with his hands in his pockets the whole subway ride there, anxious about finally meeting his father again in over ten years.

He walked the rest of the way there, taking in the experience of exploring through a suburban Tokyo neighborhood. Compared to the poorest parts of Nagoya, Tokyo was absolutely sterile—not a single piece of litter was to be seen. The flora was blooming on the sides of houses while the streets were kept clean and smooth for residential use. Everything was maintained accordingly—even the families walking and biking along the sidewalks.

Soon, Suna reached the house designated to the address he had on file. There was a car parked on the side of the entrance, indicating there was at least someone home. It was two stories high on the corner of the street, built with white clay and cement on the exterior. Unfortunately, there weren’t any family name plates on the outside of the house, only the house number. 

Suna hesitantly walked up to the front entrance, stopping in place at the porch. He took one deep breath before lifting his arm up, knocking three times on the door loud and clear. Suna took two steps back, anxiously waiting for someone to answer.

All of a sudden, Suna heard small footsteps approaching the front entrance—it sounded like a quiet pitter-patter of feet running across the hardwood floor. Once the door unlocked, a small boy no older than four years old wearing bright blue overalls peeked his head out to look up at him. They locked eyes for a moment with Suna noticing the boy also had the same brown hair and light green colored eyes as him and his father.

“Who are you?” The boy articulated in a high-pitched voice, squinting his eyes up at Suna. He held a fox plush toy tightly in his hands, wrapping his arm around the neck while leaving the body dangling on the floor. “Why do you look like my daddy? Are you my uncle?”

Suna was left agape, utterly shocked at the small child answering the door to this house. Other than the obvious questions about where his guardians are, Suna primarily wondered why this boy looked eerily similar to him and his sister. He shared the same general facial features—the same eye color, eye shape, eyebrows—even the same nose. This kid was basically a carbon copy of him.

Amidst the confusion, a woman suddenly popped out behind the child, scooping him up in her arms. She had a worried look on her face while she scolded the boy, mumbling to him that he shouldn’t be opening doors to strangers and to let the adults answer next time.

The woman turned to Suna with a sheepish smile on her face, bowing her head down to him. “My deepest apologies for my son, I told him to wait for me to answer the door.”

Suna surrendered his hands up, shaking them anxiously while he told the woman it wasn’t a problem for him. “Oh that’s okay, ma’am. Your son wasn’t causing much trouble for me.”

The woman smiled while keeping the boy sitting at her hip, quietly sucking his thumb with the fox plushie tight around his arm. “What brings you here?”

“I’m actually looking for my dad, Kenji Yamasaki,” Suna replied while taking out his phone, looking at the address from his father’s file. “It said he lives here at this address.”

“Hmm, that name doesn’t sound familiar…” the woman pondered, placing her free hand on her chin. “No one named Yamasaki lives here.”

Suna’s heart felt like it sank into his stomach, causing him to suddenly forget how to breathe. Sweat quickly accumulated on his forehead under the pressure of the woman’s blank stare before he gulped down the nervousness he felt, hesitating to respond. “Well, I was told he lived here at this address, so I’m not sure.”

“Maybe he was a previous tenant?” The woman looked up at the ceiling and furrowed her eyebrows while readjusting the small boy attached to her hip, sheepishly smiling back at Suna. “My husband and I just bought this house from a realtor not too long ago, so perhaps your dad forgot to give you his updated address?”

Suddenly, a deep male voice interrupted from a distance behind the woman with heavy footsteps approaching the front door. “Who’s out here, honey?”

A male figure appeared behind the woman, resting his hand on her shoulder. As Suna lifted his gaze to meet the man’s eyes, an overwhelming sensation of dread gripped him, almost nauseating at the initial sight. For the first time in over a decade, he stood in front of the man who was no other than his father.

He looked the same as what Suna remembered all those years ago—trimmed facial hair, a shaggy haircut, the same thin light green eyes. It’s almost as if he didn’t age a decade at all. Compared to Suna, his father looked frozen in time, emulating the same quirky businessman he knew back as a child. His father locked eyes with him, knowing exactly who Suna was at first glance as well.

The woman’s demeanor changed entirely once his father entered the conversation. Her body language became more relaxed, along with her face forming a content smile. She greeted him quietly and gave him a kiss on the cheek before turning to face Suna, addressing the concerns with his visit. “Oh, just this young man looking for his dad. Do you know of a guy named Kenji Yamasaki?”

Suna’s father did not break eye contact with him, slightly furrowing his eyebrows. With no hesitation to deny his real identity, Kenji gulped and shook his head. “No, I don’t. Doesn’t sound familiar.”

The woman, whom Suna assumed was his father’s new wife, noticed the intense gaze between the both of them. The tension was noticeable enough for her to interject; looking behind her shoulder at her husband and then back at Suna with an inquisitive expression. “Do you two know each other?”

“No, we don’t.” Suna instantly responded, understanding the implications of his father’s new social identity under the guise of an operation where he’ll inevitably ruin another family yet again. 

He stared at the small boy sucking his thumb in his mouth, knowing the same fate will happen to him sooner or later. The thought of having the kid experience the same abandonment and heartbreak as he did made Suna tighten the grip on his hands, wincing at the pain of his fingernails digging deep into his palms. While staring straight into the eyes of the child’s innocence, he saw nothing but a younger version of himself, hopeless and afraid.

“I must have the wrong address, I apologize for intruding.”

He immediately turned around and ran off, quickly walking away from the family home. Without looking back, he placed his hands firmly into the pockets of his jacket and walked down the street of the neighborhood, silent tears streaming down his face.

Suna sat in his hostel encompassed in complete darkness for the rest of the day. He laid on the small futon, trying to make sense of the emotions he was experiencing. Throughout his childhood, he didn’t understand what emotional regulation was, and because he was left to be the “man of the house” after his father left, he didn’t allow himself to show any vulnerability. A lot of his emotions became buried and bottled up, never knowing when it would explode and spill over.

That night was one of those times. 

There were clear signs that he was at maximum capacity of holding everything in with tears slipping out over and over again within the past week. Suna wasn’t sure how to control the amount of emotional turbulence that came with the trauma, nonetheless even knowing how to let go and make peace with it. He didn’t address the underlying wounds following his father’s departure, opting instead to ignore the pleas for healing his body ached for.

Unfortunately, he was simply unaware of how much emotional baggage would come with trying to rekindle a relationship with his father, taking on more than he could actually handle.

Suna’s headache was made unbearable through the tremors of his right temple, feeling as though his skull itself were about to rupture. Submerged in darkness for the whole day with the blinds closed made the night feel much longer than it actually was. A constant stream of tears left him dehydrated, exasperating his headache, compounding through his empty stomach. After rotting on the futon all day, Suna checked his phone for the time—23:52, or 11:52PM.

A rumbled groan left through the slits of his teeth, rolling his eyes to the back of his head before rubbing his face haphazardly, forcing himself to stay awake. He knew he had to get a meal within his system, so he slowly arose from the floor, slipped his hooded jacket on, and ventured out on a nightly mission. With his keys, cell phone, and some cash crumpled up in his pocket, he wandered out into the bustling streets of Shinjuku.

He searched for a twenty-four-hour convenience store—and luckily within a mile, there was a stretch of a few different ones in a single block. Suna chose the closest one to him; a family-owned mart with a teenage boy doing cram school homework at the front register. 

He entered in like usual, responding back to the teenager’s greeting and heading straight to the hot food section with small meals paired with rice. He scanned through the selection of onigiri, fried vegetables, and egg salad sandwich options, but nothing was really suiting his appetite. He squinted and sighed, hoping if he kept walking further, he would encounter a restaurant selling cheap eats. However, Suna only brought a couple hundred yen in his pocket, enough for a small meal and drink at the convenience store.

After browsing the hot food section, Suna decided to grab his drink first, heading over to the refrigerators near the back. The selection was open without doors, making it easier for him to view the drinks and their prices. Once his eyes carefully scanned through the rows and rows of drink varieties, he settled for the last bottle of melon soda.

Just as he reached for it, a weathered hand lept from outside the corner of his hood, converging upon the same drink but colliding with his. He was unaware of the other person approaching behind him. Suna glanced at the individual, briefly observing his face, only to realize the man snatched the bottle before he could.

“Hey, I wanted that first—,” just as he spoke up, he glanced one more time at the man’s face, realizing he recognized exactly who he was. With his eyes almost swelling with tears, Suna choked in the middle of his sentence, rendered with confusion.

“Dad?”

“Rintarou?”

Suna didn’t intend to eat out at a restaurant that night, nor did he account for ever seeing his dad ever again after what happened earlier that morning. Yet, there he was, eating a hefty bowl of noodles at a ramen house in the middle of the Chuo Ward, sitting directly in front of his father. 

The place was tucked in the middle of an alley in the heart of the city, primarily lit up by a red neon sign on the outside of the windows. Suna and his dad sat close to the windows, looking out to the bridge right above the restaurant, watching the cars pass by. He looked back at his father, Kenji, slurping up the fresh noodles from the edge of his bowl before looking down at his own meal, pushing around the toppings amongst the soup.

Kenji pulled away from his bowl and exhaled a breath of satisfaction, closing his eyes and nodding his head. “This is one of my favorite places in Tokyo. They serve damn good ramen.”

“Yeah, it’s really good.” Suna rested his left elbow on the table, resting his head upon his hand while looking out the window again at the cars on the bridge. He pushed around the toppings in his soup with his chopsticks, thinking about how unusual it was to be here with his father. 

If you had asked him earlier within the trip, spending quality time with his dad was the ideal expectation. Although it was what he wanted, it felt forced, only happening by coincidence. What happened earlier that morning spoiled the fun out of any idealized moments he was thinking of spending with his father.

Though Suna couldn’t help but be grateful for the coincidence, knowing he should’ve felt elated for reconnecting with his father even if it wasn’t to his original expectations. He knew his nine-year-old self would have killed for another meal with his dad, so he made sure to at least savor the scarce moments he was given.

“You might be wondering why my current wife doesn’t know my real name,” Kenji began, lowering the bowl of soup from his lips. “I guess it’s about time I’ve told you the truth.”

“No, I get it. You’re on your current mission,” Suna interrupted, bringing up his chopsticks to slurp up his own noodles. With his mouth full, he pointed the chopsticks to Kenji, waving them around in a circle. “What’s your new alias?”

“Makoto Hattori,” Kenji hesitantly responded, raising an eyebrow up at Suna. “Wait a minute, how’d ya know I’m on a mission anyways?”

“The same reason as to how I got your address,” Suna responded with a smug face, slurping up another taste of his noodles. “I got intel from the proxy you send child support from.”

With much surprise, Kenji’s face began to turn red while cursing under his breath, fumbling on the words he was going to say. Through his teeth, he leaned his body forward and whispered loudly over the table. “Fucking hell, that shit’s confidential, who the hell told you all this?”

“I ain’t saying a thing,” Suna shook his head while crossing his arms, leaning back on his chair. “Snitches get stitches.”

Kenji scoffed, folding his own arms over his chest. “Okay, fine. But let me explain myself, at least. There’s more to the story.”

Suna’s father began to share what his life was like after separating from the family, letting him know it wasn’t fully his choice to leave. In fact, his original mission ended way before Suna was even born, but he begged the PSIA to assign other tasks around Nagoya and the Kansai region. That was primarily the reason why he was always out on “business trips” to Osaka, building a whole operation against the largest Yakuza clan in Southern Japan, the Kitagawa Daichii.

Though unfortunately, the PSIA finally moved him to Tokyo, where his mission was now redirected to focus on the largest Yakuza clan within Japan, running the streets of the entire city: the Sakanoshita clan. His new mission at the time was to take down the main boss, but now they’ve recently focused on a new target.

Kenji comforted Suna, explaining that leaving him and his family wasn't a personal decision but a commitment to serve the country for the well-being of its citizens. Kenji even revealed that Suna was, in fact, his eldest son—and that he, his mom, and sister held a special place in his heart as the first family he had ever established. Unfortunately, the man Suna once knew all those years ago did not exist anymore, as Daisuke Suna was only a guise Kenji had to put on in order to protect them from the dangers of his career.

It was a lot for Suna to take in all at once, knowing the intricate details of who Kenji truly was and the main reason for his departure early on. The idealized image Suna had built of his father from an early age started to slowly fade away the more and more he learned about him. It was bittersweet in a way, knowing the truth had finally helped him seek the closure he needed, but that meant he had to let go of his past—he had to let go of the little boy he once knew, and the man he once admired.

The following conversations included everything that had happened to Suna for the past ten years, catching his father up on what was going on within his life. Suna mentioned his past hobbies he’s picked up, past achievements he’s accomplished, and even the past relationships he’s had with ex-girlfriends. Kenji listened engagingly to his stories like it was prime television, reacting positively to the highs and mourning the lows.

Suna chuckled every time his dad was dramatically reacting, adding his own commentary in between stories. It was a heartwarming moment shared between father and son, something Suna had been wanting to happen for so long. 

At this point in time, it was well past two in the morning and they’ve already finished their food, leaving behind two bowls emptied clean. Kenji paid for both of their meals, sending compliments to the chef when the owner came and gave them the bill, leaving them to chat the rest of the night away.

“How’s your mom and sister?” Kenji asked, sighing softly to himself as the owner of the restaurant collected their stacked bowls off the table. “Are they doing alright?”

“Yeah, they’re alright,” Suna chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “They hate you like always.”

“I figured.” Kenji rested both of his elbows on the table, sighing solemnly to himself. He let out a sheepish smile, locking eyes with Suna. “I see you don’t, though. Otherwise you wouldn’t have visited me.”

Suna folded his hands on his lap, continuing to lean back in his chair on its hind legs. He looked out into the city at night, observing the lights in the distance without looking over at his dad. “I decided to visit because I want you to be a part of my life again.”

Silence arose between the steady flow of conversation. Suna looked over at his father, watching him stare at his blurred reflection within the shine of the oak table. “Rintarou… you know I can’t.”

Suna held a grip on his hand, matching the tightness of his bite. “Why not?”

Kenji took a momentary pause, still looking down at his reflection, hesitant to say his answer. “You know exactly why I can’t be in your life again as a father.”

Another silence fell between them, pushing ever further their hopes of reconciliation. Any remaining had already departed, leaving behind the failure Suna had anticipated from the beginning. Their eyes slowly met with a morose linger—one suffering in guilt, the other in abandonment.

“I’m here with a new family, my mission down in Nagoya is over.” Kenji clarified, making sure to be openly transparent with his eldest son about his current situation. “The man you once knew as Daisuke Suna—he doesn’t exist anymore.” 

Suna clenched his fists within his pockets while grinding the back of his teeth, keeping his lips shut. His mind raced with copious amounts of heinous responses, but ultimately stopped himself from impulsive reactionary insults that he otherwise would have regretted later. Instead, he nodded his head and decidedly went with a response he deemed the most mature to say.

“I understand.”

Kenji released a heavy sigh he was holding in, relieved to hear his son understood his circumstances. Suna kept his head low, staring down at the laces of his shoes. He watched Kenji’s feet move away from him, scooting his chair out and standing up from his seat, all from the view beneath the table.

Just as Suna lifted his head, his father reached into his pockets, rummaging around for his carton of cigarettes. He tore open a fresh box—presumably from the convenience store—and placed an unlit cigarette in between his lips. He let it hang in the corner of his mouth before resting his hand along the handle of the front door near their table, looking back at Suna one more time.

Kenji sighed while gazing at Suna’s desolate state, muffling out his farewells. “It was nice catching up, kiddo. But unfortunately, we can’t do this again.”

With one foot out the door, Kenji waved goodbye to his eldest son, never knowing when—or even if he would be able to see him again. Impulsively, Suna quickly stood up in his seat, shouting for his father’s attention before he fully exited the restaurant.

“Wait!”

Kenji stopped in place with his unlit cigarette in one hand and an open zippo lighter in the other, turning his attention back to his son. In a final attempt to reconcile with his father, Suna clutched his hands and dug into his pocket, pulling out the list of who to contact in case he wanted a career within the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, all curated by Utsui back at Schweiden Adlers Inc. It also listed prominent admins of the PSIA, which happen to be some of Kenji’s bosses.

“What if I work for the TMPD?” Suna breathed out, his hands shaking from holding the paper.

Kenji gazed at Suna for a moment, looking deep into his light green eyes—it was the same ones his own father gave him, and soon he passed them onto Suna. For that brief moment, Kenji saw a younger version of himself in his own son through the windows of his pupils, twenty five years younger, just a couple of years before Suna was born. He had just got his job within the TMPD, starting as a regional undercover detective. Soon after, he was then promoted to a similar position at the PSIA, continuing his undercover missions for the next few decades.

Kenji never imagined his own son would have the potential to become his protégé, but the vision he just witnessed a moment ago changed the trajectory of not only his life, but Suna’s as well.

With his body halfway out the front door of the restaurant, Kenji placed the lighter’s flame up to the end of his cigarette, huffing in a puff of smoke, finally exhaling it out into the open night air while disregarding the prohibition of smoking sign within the restaurant. He cracked a smile and closed his eyes, winking towards his eldest son.

“...how about working for the PSIA instead?”

Tokyo — Early Spring, three years ago

Throughout the next year, Suna redirected the trajectory of his life and decided to train under the joint operation of the TMPD and PSIA. Much to his mother’s demise, he packed up his things and moved from the apartment building in Nagoya where he’d lived all his life to a designated dormitory meant to house new agent trainees in the PSIA within the matter of a few weeks. 

Most of his life Suna had lived in comfort, but transitioning so quickly to a brand new city left him in a whiplash—everything about Tokyo was completely different from Nagoya. Sharing a dorm room with three other trainees was something he hadn’t experienced before and it left Suna feeling incompetent. The others in his cohort had histories within the military, police, and judicial government—yet, Suna’s lack of education and inexperience within the workforce deemed him the black sheep of his class.

In fact, most of his fellow trainees resented Suna for landing a highly sought-after agent position due to complete nepotism—they teasingly called him “Nepo Boy” for short, all due to the fact he was offered a position within the PSIA without any formal qualifications other than being the son of the Chief Commander. Because of this resentment, Suna was subjected to a lot of bullying within his first few weeks of training. It got to the point where he was starting to regret ever coming to Tokyo, but fortunately in a matter of months, Suna began to quickly earn the respect of his cohorts. 

Despite having absolutely no educational or physical training experience, Suna placed first in every assessment in the program. Although in the beginning it was an obvious struggle, he became the first person to pass every assessment with flying colors ever since 1995 back during his own Father’s training days. Suna became the top achiever of the physical training program, succeeding him from a bullying victim to the envy of his class by end of the year.

By the coming of summer, the PSIA new agent training program had commenced. Suna graduated top of his class, which soon privileged him to serve under an operation of his choice. Without any hesitation, he chose the upcoming mission led by his father that was previously put on a cold case a few years prior.

This particular mission was initiated by Suna’s father, Kenji, and his commander in charge at the time. They were focusing predominantly on the demolition of the Osaka dominated yakuza clan, the Kitagawa Daichii. Their goal was to take down the entire organization, first starting with their Trans-Pacific Trade Operations leader—he was the one to take down first, as he was the strongest on their defense line—he was also considered the most wanted criminal by the PSIA due to his power and connections amongst other clans.

Although, what mainly caused their mission to be placed on an indefinite hiatus in the first place was the clan had been subjected to internal conflict that resulted in the death of the clan’s trade operations leader. Because of that, the clan crumbled from within, leading to immediate arrests and the ultimate demise of the Kitagawa Daichii. By the end of the cold case, the clan reduced, leaving only a scatter of loyal members to fend for themselves.

For years, the PSIA was made to believe that the same Trans-Pacific Trade Operations leader was dead for years, up until recently where a tip was given from the TMPD regarding suspicious import activity from the Tokyo Freight Harbor. Upon agent inspection, it was no other than the same guy running the business again, just under a new employer, the Sakanoshita clan. Luckily for the PSIA, there was already a long standing  history with the Sakanoshita clan regarding the multiple targets amongst the family and yakuza members.

Soon, Kenji was sent from Osaka to Tokyo to join the operation set to take down the Sakanoshita clan, slowly but surely gathering intel and waiting for the right moment to strike. Fortunately, half way through the operation—Mr. Sakanoshita, head of the Sakanoshita clan, unexpectedly passed away. From intel, his death was caused by inner turmoil within the immediate family, which ultimately decreased the amount of work the PSIA had to do for the mission.

During the first reconciliation meeting regarding the merge between the two operation units, Suna sat in the back of the table compared to the other high-profile agents sitting near the front. Amongst the others in the meeting room, Kenji stood at the front near the projector screen, co-leading the mission with the lead detective of the TMPD, Mr. Tanji Washijou.

“Let’s commence the meeting,” Kenji announced, gathering the attention of the dozens of agents within the room. “Let’s go over why we decided to merge two cold-case missions.”

Kenji cleared his throat and rested his left hand in the crook of his bulletproof vest, starting the slideshow up on the screen. Detective Washijou took a seat near the front, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

“A little over three years ago, I was part of a mission down in Osaka led by Officer Aaron Murphy from the CIA to capture our main target working under the Kitagawa Daichii clan that was smuggling over a billion pounds of contraband drugs across to the United States from all major ports within Asia. We were unable to capture him during the time, though there was a rumor circulating from our intel that he was found dead in Manila, which caused the mission to be halted.”

Suna watched all eyes focus on Kenji, watching him speak and explain the details of the past operation. Albeit to him it was a fascinating case, Suna couldn’t help but think to himself that his father was still around in southern Japan, right under his nose in Osaka, only a town away. 

He wondered if his father could’ve stayed throughout the rest of his childhood, how his life would have been so different if he’d lived in ignorant bliss in light of his father’s true identity—or would it have been better to know the truth and stick with him in the present moment, knowing all that he knew right now? In hindsight, to Suna, he was thankful that he didn’t end up with what he thought he wanted.

“Before we discuss the new outline of the mission, I would like to dedicate the start of this mission to Agent Rina Fujiwara, who sacrificed her life while on duty during the Osaka Café Driveby Incident. Rest in peace.” Kenji cleared his throat and lowered his head, as did Detective Washijou and the rest of the agents in the room. Suna followed suit, bowing his head in respect while the room remained silent.

Soon after, Kenji and Detective Washijou gave long synopses of the two missions prior, outlining the details of events that took place and what priorities needed to set in place for a successful mission. From what Suna could gather, there was a long timeline of events that took place between the locations of Osaka and Tokyo. The main target, a man that went by the nickname Cypher, was found amongst Tokyo’s underground street racing scene. He was flagged by another PSIA agent, putting him at the forefront of the mission.

Kenji soon found out that this man named Cypher had also been the Trans-Pacific Trade Operations Leader for the Kitagawa Daichii. It was shocking to him at first, given that there had been news of his death a couple years ago during the Manila Port Explosion, but seeing that he was still alive and well back in Japan gave a reason for him to resume the mission. The Kitagawa Daichii never revealed any names for their members, so to finally put a name to the man that was responsible behind the Trans-Pacific drug trade was one step forward to putting him behind bars.

“Detective Washijou and his brigade has been keeping a close eye on Cypher’s involvement within the Sakanoshita clan ever since he had been flagged for the December freight shooting. We’re targeting anyone involved in any business with the Sakanoshita clan, but as of now, because of the merged missions, we’re first focusing on Cypher.”

Kenji flashed a multitude of photos taken of Cypher from afar by the PSIA personal investigators, several of which were from the missions years ago in Osaka. Suna took note of his appearance, thinking to himself that he looked quite young. In his mind, he was expecting a middle aged man, but the photos showed a young looking guy no older than himself.

Although they might have been similar in age, they were on completely different levels of life experience. Suna’s eyes traced along the dragon tattoo of Cypher’s neck, wondering how a kid his age was able to become the sole person responsible for the trans-pacific international drug exchange at the age of nineteen, while also being wanted by the PSIA by the age of twenty. Now Suna’s learning about how he’s at the forefront of the underground street racing scene, working for Tokyo’s most powerful yakuza clan all before the age of twenty-one? It was baffling to know someone could accomplish all of that within a matter of a few years.

“We’ve decided to take the slow approach by sending someone capable of infiltrating Tokyo’s underground racing scene. It’s preferable to join one of their existing gangs, but it is not required. Remember folks—our approach this time is slow and steady. We do not want a situation happening where we get too close too fast. We wouldn’t want you guys getting into danger like it did with Agent Fujiwara.”

Everyone in the room nodded their head, understanding the precautions and limiting their proximity to the target. Although Suna acknowledged and understood the sacrifice described by Agent Fujiwara, he wondered what she did to cause herself getting into imminent danger. He tapped his foot against the floor, slumping back into his chair while his father continued on with the operation directions.

“…this is why we’ve appointed my eldest son, Rintarou Suna, to go undercover into the underground racing scene.” Kenji pointed his hand to the back of the room in Suna’s direction. 

Within the blink of an eye, every person in the room gathered their attention towards him, observing every inch of Suna in comparison to Kenji. Like father like son , Suna assumed they would say as their eyes probed upon his features, spectating his every reaction and every move. He began to fiddle with his thumbs underneath the table, rubbing the tips of his fingers against each other; his hands stammering while placed upon the spotlight.

“Um, why me?” Suna croaked, shifting his eyes around the room, bouncing his focus between the dozens of agents staring back at him.

“We need someone young to infiltrate the underground racing scene, and with you as our youngest agent, no other would be perfect for the role.” Kenji beamed out with a bright smile, assigning his son one of the most important positions within the operation. “This is exactly what you wanted, no?”

“Um, I don’t even know much about cars,” Suna mumbled under his breath, scratching the back of his neck, feeling his body rise up in temperature. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“No worries, we have it all under control. You will be fine.” Kenji gave a reassuring wink towards him—the same kind of wink he gave all those years ago, moments right before he left for another ‘business trip’, similarly reassuring that everything would be okay until he returned. Unfortunately, just like back then, Kenji lied again.

Once the mission was set to start, they immediately sent Suna undercover straight to one of Cypher’s dealing spots, disguised as a guy looking to buy some of his supply. They provided Suna with cash and situated him at the end of a street alley on a block in Shibuya where he was scheduled to meet Cypher for a deal. Because this was his first attempt, the PSIA wanted to ease him into the mission—so to not seem too suspicious, Suna only bought an eighth of an ounce of marijuana.

Once the getaway car dropped him off a block from the meeting spot, Suna’s hands began to tremble and sweat profusely. He wiped them off on his pants and exhaled out into the night air, quickening his erratic walking pace. Within the far distance, he saw a figure standing at the corner of the alleyway, smoking a cigarette while leaning on the edge of the building. Suna assumed it was Cypher, cautioning his steps while he slowly approached behind him.

Suna cleared his throat before getting close enough to speak, holding the money tight in his hands. “…Cypher?”

At the time, the PSIA only ever knew him by his nickname. No one outside of his circle knew his full name, only ever referring to him as ‘Cypher’. Oikawa shot his eyes over to Suna without moving his head, observing the timid young man approaching him. While finishing the last of his cigarette, he put out the flame against the side of the brick building and placed it within an ashtray he carried with him, storing it back into the pocket of his bomber jacket.

Oikawa kept his head straight and responded in a low and raspy voice without looking up. “Who’s asking?”

His tone caused Suna to stammer in his words, fumbling to form a response.  “U-um… me?”

Oikawa shifted his head towards Suna’s direction, his eyes peering straight at him. There was a brief pause between the two where only the street noises in the distance were to be heard. Suna’s heart began to beat erratically while he held the money tight in his hands—with the grip that he had, he would have been able to permanently damage the bills.

The silence broke when Oikawa leaned off the side of the building and walked towards Suna, placing both of his hands within his jacket pockets. While taking two steps back with every step Oikawa took, Suna managed to keep a safe distance between the two, unsure of what move he was going to pull. He observed that Oikawa’s bomber jacket pockets looked full, and he wasn’t going to risk the possibility of him keeping a weapon in one of them. Even with all the physical training the PSIA put him through, with Suna unarmed, there was no chance he would win against a gun.

Oikawa stopped in place once he noticed Suna cowering back up into the dark alleyway, continuing the conversation again. “Are you the one asking for only an eighth?”

“Um, yeah,” Suna immediately responded without analyzing what he asked. What did he mean by ‘an eighth’? Someone else in the PSIA set up the drug deal for Suna, so he had absolutely no clue how much he was actually buying.

“Five thousand yen.” Oikawa spoke out in a monotone voice, keeping his hands within his pocket.

“Excuse me?” Suna questioned, scratching the back of his head.

Oikawa glared at him, furrowing his eyebrows. “It’s five thousand yen. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Without hesitation, Suna uncrumpled the cash in his hands, trying his best to count five thousand yen while straightening out the bills. Oikawa watched him struggle with the money, observing him drop the cash on the ground while he scurried to pick it up. Once he collected himself, Suna straightened out the cash and quickly handed it to him.

Oikawa counted the money to himself, making sure Suna gave him the right amount. The bills were damp from the sweat of his palms and crumpled throughout the face of the note. To most businesses, the condition of the money would be unacceptable, but Oikawa took pity on the naivety of the young man.

He sighed to himself while he neatly folded the money into his pocket and took out a small bag of marijuana with roughly around four large nugs of flower buds. The plastic was thick and tightly sealed without any leaks of smell, showcasing the intricate care for detail within the product. It was an expensive Indica hybrid, specially grown within the west coast of the United States. It was a luxury within Japan, and the hefty price tag came with it.

Oikawa tossed it over in the air, to which Suna caught haphazardly with both of his hands.  He observed the small bag and the flower buds within it, questioning why this tiny amount of product was worth five thousand yen. Although the PSIA supplied Suna with enough money, they didn’t educate him with street drug etiquette, nor the knowledge of the market value. Suna didn’t quite understand what he was getting himself into—all the PSIA did was send him on his way because of how unassuming he was. 

“Five thousand yen seems awfully a lot for this little,” Suna commented, pulling the bag up to his head and shaking it in the air with his eyebrows cinched in confusion. 

Oikawa scoffed and rolled his eyes, smiling in disbelief. “You must be new to this.”

Suna gulped down what felt like a lump in his throat, flustered by his lack of awareness. Although Oikawa took pity amongst his naivety, Suna couldn’t help but feel embarassed by the whole interaction. What exactly was the purpose for in this deal? Didn’t Kenji mention they were going to take things slow with the mission? Why is he suddenly face-to-face with their main target?

Suna began to feel anxious, slowly coming to terms with the fact he’s in the same vicinity of a man wanted for murder. It felt sickening to know all the past details of the man in front of him without Oikawa knowing he was already aware of it. All of the past events he was informed of flashed through his mind as Oikawa reached into his pocket and grabbed another cigarette and hung it at the edge of his lips, slowly lighting it up. It became surreal for him to know they were close in age, but Oikawa had notoriously far more experience in life compared to him.

He pinched the cigarette between two fingers and pulled it away from his lips, quickly exhaling the smoke from his mouth. The air began to reek of tobacco again, something Suna knew he had to get used to on the job. “I usually don’t accept sales this little, but because you know Ushiwaka it’s fine, I guess. Just know, my clients usually buy over ten times as much as this.”

Ushijima “Ushiwaka” Wakatoshi was part of the underground street racing scene, but he became notorious within the TMPD as Utsui’s eldest son. Unfortunately, just like Suna, Ushiwaka and his mother fell victim to the PSIA dispatching undercover agents as they formed families before ultimately abandoning them all once the missions were declared finished. When he went rogue a couple of years ago, the PSIA started to use his name as a way for undercover agents to gain trust within the street racing scene—it was exactly the way the PSIA was able to get a “referral” to Cypher.

“Alright, get out of here.” Oikawa shooed him with his left hand, pulling in another puff of his cigarette. He gazed back at Suna, cracking a small smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t smoke it all at once.”

Unfortunately, Suna did not heed his warning.

Tokyo — Spring, two years ago

The drug deal with Oikawa unfortunately marked the beginning of Suna’s decline into a heavy addiction to marijuana and other copious narcotics. 

The PSIA had a strict protocol to store away the drugs purchased through planned deals for observation, but surprisingly Kenji recommended for Suna to keep the product for himself, saying it would help with his assimilation while undercover as another street racer— it would make him fit in better and not stand out too much within the crowd.

Unfortunately, just like most things in his life, Suna took it too far and assimilated too well—in fact, he shifted his entire personality to fit into the character he had to portray for the underground street racing scene. It was a complete shock to his fellow colleagues who knew him as a shy and timid teenager when he first joined the PSIA, but now he’s turned over a new leaf.

It got to the point Suna started seeing Oikawa for drug deals weekly, spending his own money for a few grams of his supply. At first it was supposed to help him get into character while undercover, but Suna took it a bit far, looking for a daily fix at the height of his addiction. Every morning, he’d wake up and contact Oikawa, asking him if they could meet for another deal.

Their meeting spot wasn’t always the same place. Sometimes, Oikawa would ask to meet at different areas around Tokyo—sometimes at the corner of random bars, deep under Shinjuku station, or even on the streets of Kabukicho, right out in the open with other people around. Though, their most memorable deal was when he asked Suna to meet him at one of the races in Downtown Tokyo. That was where Oikawa introduced him to Kita. 

In hindsight, Oikawa regretted ever introducing them. When Suna first met Kita, the Inarizaki Bois were just newly formed. Kita was looking for members to join, and Suna so happened to hit it off with him at first encounter. They bonded over familial issues, slowly but surely finding out they had a lot more in common than they realized. They could relate to each other more than just on a surface level, and sooner than later, Suna was initiated into the Inarizaki Bois.

Unfortunately for Oikawa, that meant Suna was no longer a source of money for him. Immediately after Suna’s initiation, he completely dropped Oikawa as a plug. There wasn’t much contact with him after that, since Suna now had an easier way of integrating himself within the underground street racing scene without much effort. Oikawa didn’t realize it would have negatively affected his business as well.

It didn’t take long for Suna to change physically, either. He started to dress in darker clothing, skip a few haircuts, added piercings to his ears and face, inked on a few tattoos—all within a couple of weeks, Suna looked completely unrecognizable from himself a year ago.

Although Suna looked the part, he still did not take any of the mission seriously enough, which caused him to ultimately slack off on his research and effort to integrate into the street racing scene. All Suna did was use the Inarizaki Bois as a way to get free weed and other drugs. He figured once he tackled the hurdle of trying to get initiated into a gang, it would be smooth sailing from there—but in fact, it was just the first step getting into the deep end.

Kenji was never impressed by Suna’s lack of initiative—he noticed his declining efforts in regards to the mission while simultaneously exploiting PSIA resources for his own personal benefit. There was never anything valuable Suna was able to report back for each check-in for several months, causing the mission’s plan to go a lot slower than intended. This led to Kenji scolding Suna at one of their check-ins, disrupting the barriers of their father-son relationship once he addressed the severity of the issue with personal matters. 

“You’re too fucking soft,” Kenji scolded, hitting the table with his fists as he circled around the room. “I don’t think you’re actually cut out to be an agent.”

“I am though,” Suna retorted under his breath in a sharp tone, looking down at his reflection within the glossy black table. He frowned at himself, knowing deep down the words he spoke were in desperation to save his fragile ego.

“You better toughen up then,” Kenji snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is the real world. You can’t pretend to live comfortably anymore like you did back in Nagoya—you joined the PSIA, you actually have to work to fulfill a purpose.”

“I understand,” Suna mumbled through his closed teeth, gripping his hands while digging his fingernails into the sides of his palms.

“That’s it? You really don’t get it, do you?” 

Kenji closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, pinching the bridge of his nose. A period of silence followed before he scoffed at Suna’s response, shaking his head slowly.

“We’re half a year behind on the plan because you’re slacking on your part. There’s never anything new you bring to the table, you have the same old excuse: ‘I’ll get it next time’. When will ‘next time’ actually happen? You can’t just say these things and never follow through on your word.”

Suna didn’t dare to look his father in the eyes. He kept his head low and his mouth shut while enduring the scold, staring down at his reflection in the table as it grew more distorted by the seconds.

“Do you want to be like your mom, stuck in Nagoya, being completely worthless, doing nothing with her life?” 

“Don’t fucking talk about my mom that way!” Suna immediately jolted up in his seat, growling his threat in a deep and dark guttural tone. “She raised me when you couldn’t, so you don’t get to have a say in what she does, you fucking coward!”

It was hard for Suna to keep his tears in, letting them spill from the corner of his eyes down his cheeks. Quiet thuds of the tear droplets scattered the table beneath him as he gripped the upper strap belt of Kenji’s bulletproof vest, bringing his face close to his.

There was a tremble in his hold, feeling the adrenaline skitter through his spine. Suna kept his face still while he glared right at his father in the eyes who didn’t understand the severity of his words. Kenji did not know he struck such a large and painful vein within his eldest son.

“I didn’t join the PSIA to fulfill some stupid purpose,” Suna whispered through his teeth, still gripping the strap to Kenji’s vest. “I joined because of you.”

The pain he carried made its way over to Kenji, bearing the weight of the truth he spoke. Suna’s eyes were filled with tears while Kenji remained expressionless, unable to speak or respond to his own son. He continued to stare into his father’s eyes, seeing the characteristics he passed down to him up close for the first time—but these heritable traits meant nothing to Suna. They were just a reminder that there was no true bond in blood without first establishing a genuine connection, something Kenji was never able to do with any of his children.

“I joined because I was finally able to get to know my father because I never could while growing up. I wanted to spend time with you and bond with you, because I never really could while growing up. I wanted to be able to actually love my father, and say that I’m proud to be your son… because I never could while growing up.”

Kenji never realized how strong his prolonged absence affected his eldest son’s life. With Suna’s sister, his absence didn’t affect her negatively as she was too young to form the initial critical bond between parent and child—but unfortunately for Suna, Kenji left at the most critical point in his childhood that it completely altered his emotional attachment.

At nine years old, Suna has already recognized the role Kenji filled as his father and bonded with him accordingly—so when the father he once knew suddenly disappeared, Suna was left confused and frustrated, unable to understand why someone who was supposed to love and care for him would suddenly abandon him. The parental bond had formed but was never truly established as a connection between father and son.

“Rintarou, I’ve told you this many times before,” Kenji responded in a quiet, somber tone. The guilt he held for even uttering the words made even himself flinch at the sound. “I can’t be your father anymore.”

It was true, Kenji did remind him of that many times before, in fact, he made the disclaimer prior to Suna’s decision to join the PSIA. Though to Suna, he assumed his father would have a change of heart and their relationship would blossom while they spend more time together, but the reality could have been farther from the truth. Although their relationship was cordial, there wasn’t much past the boundaries of being colleagues.

Suna sacrificed everything he held dear and true to himself for the sake of being loved and approved by his father—his compassion, sense of self, and most importantly, his humanity. Yet, his efforts might have been for nothing.

In all honesty, Kenji didn’t even want to be a father in the first place, but he would have never admitted that. The pride he felt was too strong, and he would have rather let his children become shackled in the belief of the lie that he loved them than to set them free with the truth. 

Suna thought Kenji was too immature to handle the responsibilities of being a father. It seemed he only agreed to father children because he needed to form a family to become as real as possible to fulfill his missions, thinking he would be able to save thousands of civilians from becoming victims to national security threats—yet, the true victims were the thousands of families neglected once these agents were done with their jobs.

Kenji fully believed his occupation as a PSIA agent was a sacrifice he endured to make sure Japan stayed safe, but unfortunately the only thing that was sacrificed had been the bond between parent and child. Suna was left to mature without a father figure present in his life, desperately searching for the man he once knew to fulfill that role again. His job was more important than any artificial family he created, and if he had a choice, he would rather abandon his family than to fail a mission—his father’s hate for failure will always be greater than his love for Suna.

Unfortunately, Kenji passed away in the morning of April 3rd, due to a failed PSIA Riot Police Unit mission—exactly one year before the daikokufuto race accident. An undetonated bomb exploded near the Tokyo Freight Harbor, taking the lives of nearly all of the PSIA Riot Police Unit members and several cargomen working on the docks. No one in a kilometer vicinity survived the explosion, while people within five kilometers sustained multiple injuries. Virtually all of Tokyo could feel the explosion with the incident being broadcasted nationwide.

The news didn’t get to Suna until later that evening until one of his superiors had contacted him about it.

“Thanks for letting me know,” he replied in a somber tone, gripping his phone tightly within his left hand. “He will be missed for his service.”

“Are you okay, Agent Sage?” The man on the other line asked concerningly. “I’m here if you need someone.”

A sustained silence crept through the phone with enough white noise present through the speaker, eating up the seconds on the clock. Suddenly, a light thud hit the microphone, accompanied by a whimper of sorrow. Just before a stream of tears erupted from his eyes, Suna immediately hung up the phone with his superior, throwing it across the room hitting one of the walls of his bedroom.

The deepest and most distressed wail of misery echoed through the chambers of the four walls encompassing him, rattling the ears of anyone in proximity—a sound so vile, yet so forlorn that it could send a skitter of shivers down your spine. Suna’s vision was blocked by the tears filling in his eyes while he submerged himself in the darkness of the night, drowning in the pain that demanded to be felt.

The only memory that played through Suna’s head was the way his mother found out his father had abandoned her, stricken by grief instantaneously, dropping her whole body onto her knees as she let out an anguished wail. He did not expect his father to strike twice; first with his mother and the other with him. Kenji had abandoned him yet again, a situation Suna had not expected, but didn’t ring as a surprise.

Familial trauma is so unique to the state of each situation, but for some reason, the death of his father felt virtually the same to him as when he left the first time—in fact, the first time he abandoned him might have been worse. It was as if he was bracing for the day his father would ultimately leave again; anticipating the blow so that it wouldn’t hurt as much as the first time.

Suna just didn’t expect this day to happen so soon.

Like mother, like son; Suna dropped to his knees as he clutched the fabric of his clothes close to his heart, screaming out into the void of darkness. He questioned himself why he held so much love yet so much hate for his father at the same time. Perhaps if he held the same beliefs as his mother and sister about his father, maybe he could have spared himself the pain of knowing. Ignorance is bliss, as they’d say—if he had stayed detached from Kenji, his death wouldn’t have caused so much distress.

As Suna wept into his hands, continuing to scream out silent curses into the air, he thought about if that was Kenji’s plan all along—to eventually spare him and his sister from feeling the pain of his untimely death. That was the consequence of working undercover for the PSIA, there was always an uncertainty in knowing if you would still be here on this earth tomorrow.

Yet Suna knew his father was not that kind—in fact, he assumed Kenji would think death was a way to escape from all the responsibilities he did not want to be responsible for, including being a present father to his existing children. If that was the case, he would truly be free from those burdens, ultimately passing on all the pain and trauma he held onto throughout his life directly to his eldest son.

Suna believed passing time was more torment than death. 

The following months after his father’s death were the hardest for him to go through. During this period of time, Suna began turning to all forms of escapism to ease the torment of emotion and erase the consciousness of any sensation. He was rarely sober; always high on marijuana and narcotics, mixing ups and downs, rising high above cloud nine and then crashing down into the ninth circle of hell. It was more than just a routine of daily euphoric trips, it was an essential ritual he mustn’t skip.

His face, once so youthful in looks, now aged him years above where he should be. The dark circles under his eyes held the baggage he didn’t ask to carry, his skin sharing the same tone as his expressions; dulled. The whites of his eyes were never as white as they were supposed to be—instead, colored the same as a plucked vibrant red rose, with his pupils as green as the dying stem the petals were once attached to.

Just like his appearance, his whole demeanor changed for the worse. As he was once a shy but optimistic fellow, his attitude and behavior turned sour—he grew detached and cold from the world, all while masking it with a façade of conceited confidence and a ruthless edge. Before his father’s untimely death, he demanded for his son to “toughen up” for the mission—perhaps it was in Suna’s right to fulfill his father’s last wishes.

Despite his father’s death, the mission continued on in his memory with Detective Washijou now taking the lead. He promoted Suna as the main driver of the mission with his undercover affiliation as part of the Inarizaki Bois in the street racing scene, gathering intel amongst Tokyo’s most lucrative contraband trade. Detective Washijou in time became like a father figure to Suna the more they worked together on the mission, providing advice and supporting him emotionally if he needed it.

Though to Washijou, it was more of a way to manipulate Suna to essentially become his puppet within the mission, persuading him to do certain tasks he’d otherwise refuse to do. He’d use the incentive of promotions or additional bonuses, including benefits exclusive to support his mother and sister as well—and Suna always agreed. Washijou took advantage of his vulnerability, yet unbeknownst to him, Suna knew his motive all along and allowed him to.

His detachment and coldness came from the exhaustion of keeping his guard up. He was always so guarded around anyone and anything since the beginning, but it had led to more consequences than benefits. It was tormenting to know that everything in the world was a potential threat—every person, thing, and path. It was precisely this that he was so tired of. Deceit from Washijou. Lies from his father. Betrayal from himself. 

Every little thing, every damned time—Suna had nothing to look forward to because that was what precisely happened every time he was foolish enough to even have hope in his life. It's that lonely guarding; that pained grasping of every wound at every moment, of knowing daggers are at every step, of seeing every drop of deceit, toil, and the background pointlessness of it all. It was within Suna at all times on all days, and it depleted any sense of real living for him.

Yet, the only thing that seemed to give any light to the worth of life was the thrill of playing Enigma—the street racer and drug dealer of the Inarizaki Bois. One of the reasons why Suna didn’t immediately leave the PSIA after his father died was the act of being undercover, submerging himself into another world for a few hours, forgetting anything of his past life. He created a whole new persona, a whole new ego—a whole new shadow self.

This was Enigma.

Enigma’s Secret.

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[kingusukaras]

some (mildly disjointed) thoughts i had about the translation of most recent leona overblot scene from the second twst novel. unsaid disclaimer is obvi these are just my thoughts and youre free to disagree. i cant stop you

read more because i might ramble a bit 💆🏾‍♀️

i'll start by saying that i'm very grateful for the novel & yuureis translations, bc its given me so much to chew on wrt leonas psyche and mental state, much more than book 2 in the game did. i havent bothered to go looking for reactions tho, bc i can already kind of predict the takes i'll find (knowing how parts of the fandom talks abt leona generally) - and i do "get" it, in the sense that i do also feel the way he tortures ruggie before he overblots is upsetting - but theres so much to dig into here, i feel like its such a waste to get hung up on obsessively moralizing

(i'll mention here that to formulate these thoughts i'm also pulling from the translation of leona's post-overblot scene, plus some moments from the game that i'll mention specifically as i go)

for example, the things leona says pre-overblot, his meltdown about dreams being stupid and useless, how the savanaclaw students (ruggie included) aren't meant to question him; they're meant to obey quietly, sound less like actual things he's trying to tell them and more like him lashing out at himself. as in, he's more talking at them, not to them. skipping forward to book 6: there we see leona give jamil advice, but the implication underneath is that everything he's telling jamil are things leona wishes he had internalized himself - again here, he's talking to someone, but really it's also directed inwards. almost like it's easier for him to look at (and speak about) himself critically when he can externalize it as critique of other people

the other thing im curious about is the distant, detached persona he adopts when he's truly angry. this'll be quick because i don't feel i have enough information to unpack it properly, but if i allow myself to spin thoughts out from limited information: it could almost be a habit he picked up as a child - something he might've forced himself to learn as part of an effort to be seen as more of a 'model' prince. if people were afraid of his moodiness because they feared what his UM (he) could do, then if he swallows those emotions maybe he can mitigate that. this, ofc, being shot through with the expectation that, as royalty, any order he gives people will obey

the final thing, for this post at least, is unpacking the way leona lashes out at ruggie when ruggie defies him. i'm willing to make the very safe bet that most of the reading of this moment is focused on leona being angry over being defied at all, or general disgust at how small and weak ruggie is (appears) to be. and while i think both of those points have some element of truth to them, i think the larger aspect of leonas reaction is jealousy. ruggie somehow, despite everything, despite all of the disadvantages life has thrown at him, still has the courage to have determination. and i want to be very clear here: this is not me saying being poor or struggling is admirable because it makes you strong - i'm not naive and i'm not here to romanticize poverty. what i am trying to say here ruggie's tenacity - a tenacity his life circumstances developed in him - is something that leona lacks, and that's what he's jealous of. he's jealous of his inability to keep having that hope, to maintain that courage in the face of his own repeated failures

(an aside: isn't it ironic that part of the reason ruggie has that tenacity is leona? leonas tutoring, leonas effective leadership of the spelldrive club, and as housewarden?)

(an aside 2x: in many ways, 'giving up' can be seen as a luxury. ruggie does not have the luxury to give up, because it could very well mean that he doesn't eat that day. for leona, regardless of what he does he's going to have a roof over his head and three square meals a day anyway, so what does it matter if he gives up? sure, he won't be happy, but he'll be comfortable in a material sense, and isn't that enough? except, of course, it isn't - not for him. as much as he tries to deny it, he's as fiercely ambitious as the rest of his dorm)

[mellarkably]

ur so right abt the way that scene between ben and devi was shot because every single moment when we see devi making out with someone (or about to have s*x) is so driven by her “horny side” only, for paxton and des she just wanted to have s*x and get over with it and with ethan she just was on her horny and active rush which is good but the ben/devi scene, yes it was framed with a sense of urgency between them but also so much care and love. the lighting, the touches, the hands, smiling at each other and just everything about it was beautiful.

and call me crazy but i am happy the show didn’t do the typical “devi only has s*x with ben” narrative because i was about sure they wouldn’t have her have s*x with ethan and they did and was surprised because most shows don’t do that. ben and devi lost their virginity together and that’s already special but they didn’t have devi pondering around waiting for ben. she got to experience a little bit of fun and discover her preferences and be comfortable with it (and maybe ben did so too with margot) and then they get to make love to each other and know what it means and the differences in that and now they can start a relationship when there’s some level of experience and they can just explore what they both want.

some shows tend to do the opposite for “romanticism” so i am glad they did not.

OH ANON HOW I LOVE YOU FOR THIS BECAUSE CAN. WE. TALK ABOUT IT!

i already predicted a while ago that the show would have ben and devi make love again but this time it would be much more natural and easy for them:

i agree with you. i think it was important to show benvi's first time as being awkward, and having it pale in comparison to her next time with ethan, who is far more experienced. it allowed devi to have fun (and im assuming its almost certain ben also had sex with margot) while embodying the whole, fun time NOT a long time thing. im sure they both learned a lot about their preferences like you said during those respective relationships.

but going back to what i loved most about 410's sex redo - how it was the ONLY sex scene in the show that wasn't shot like a high school steamy fling type of deal.

of course, there's that big damn kiss that's been building up for four years with more steam needed to be released than pati's rice cooker, BUT, the lighting. the song, the actors' natural chemistry. the tone itself already feels so much more serious than any other romantic scene in the show.

i honestly thought it would end here, so imagine my surprise when they continued - and i think this second part is what sets it apart from all the other intimate scenes in the show.

henna shot. i fucking died. ive talked enough about this on twitter and im sure other people are talking about this but it is just so symbolic for devi as an individual, her relationship with her culture and how she doesn't have to separate that from her romantic endeavours because she is desirable as she is! s1 devi would faint! she absolutely would!

and now this shot, which is what the tags you're referring to were about, has me still going cuckoo bananas like. pulling away to smile at each other. they're literally in fucking love. this is love. this is not the show trying to gain an audience using steamy scenes, or devi being horny - not that there is anything wrong with that either - but she is so visibly content and comfortable and happy and you can see it in her smile. both of their smiles in fact.

that small moment is what makes this scene for me.

anyway sorry for the huge rant. if you couldn't tell already i really love this scene! it was very well done.

[9800sblog]

mingi tarot reading

persona vs personality

do I have his energy permission to do and share this reading? 2 of cups

mingi said he has a clear division, that in public he sells a fantasy and a performance.

in front of cameras, bosses, fans and other celebrities

in general, he likes to be impressive and because he's so inspired by hip-hop, he wants to look like a bad boy, a player, like he's trouble. he likes to look messy, like he isn't trying hard, that he's naturally that cool, he shows off money and possessions very casually, to not look like he cares, he has no cares. but he also likes the story of a small guy in a big world, he only tells the struggles he's already survived and fixed, this way, he shows how strong and powerful he is. I think he gets a bit embarrassed in front of cameras still, because he's actually trying a lot and planning and thinking and researching (he said that privately he's a nerd and a loser kkkkkkkkk). with the queen of cups, he likes to show that he's in control of his emotions and sensitive to others' emotions, polite, nice and likeable, charming. with bosses, mingi likes to be a fun presence that reminds them of a problem child, I think he enjoys being taken care of and getting away easily when he actually has big trouble. ateez doesn't seem to have many celebrity friends (or any friends except for themselves) and it's basically what we see on camera. but he likes opportunities with successful people to exchange advice and learnings. in work events and ceremonies where he is around them, mingi likes to be calm, self composed and look successful, a quiet type of success. now, when around fans, he tries to be funny and quirky and look open minded and non judgmental, so they can feel comfortable with him. there's also the classic boyband fantasy, where every fan is special, the love of his life and he wants you desperately, only you! it doesn't seem he enjoys it, with the king of swords reversed + 8 of pentacles reversed, he thinks it's manipulative and gives him a bad reputation, it's easy money and disrespectful to himself, to the fans and the special people in his life. the other cards say he's often bored, apathetic or just sad when interacting one on one, but it's just how things have always been done and he doesn't have the power to change it alone. it seems that he wants to be more honest, but he can't, he said "it's hard to be proud of yourself when you do such putrid work".

casually, at home and daily

mingi is really traditional, he likes being home and I don't see him going out at all, a homebody for sure. he is introspective and reevaluates his life and decisions, figuring out if they actually match with him on a real level. he's got a strong sense of right and wrong, he's quite lazy and overly dramatic. his faith plays a big part on him and his mentality, and he is thoughtful, he likes to learn from anything. he's such a sentimentalist, he romanticizes a lot, he's get very attached to things and people, and is probably the type to take many casual pictures and videos to watch his memories in the future. there is this one person mingi feels very close to, his true best friend, who he is very intensely emotionally connected to, he spends a lot of time with them, like a lot, from morning to night and then in his dreams, that's very sweet. he likes to be around this person because he feels grounded around them, and that's when his energy feels actually relaxed and comfortable. when around them, he is vulnerable, dedicated, attentive, detailed, easily accesses his shadow and works with them to fix it, this is a very safe energy and environment, I really like it, I'm happy he feels like that. it almost feels like therapy, but it's better and easier, he's a very healing presence in this energy, very comfortable and unbothered. he seems to still be obsessed with things from his childhood and love things that the target audience is children, it's lighthearted fun, he said.

[curseofthebloodcountess]

I have private brain rot about Modern!Blood Countess/Real Housewives. Here are some thoughts/images I have to live with that I need to inflict on people:

Ez driving and living in a van. Bonus points for her picking up Theo and the Vallikicule on her way home from dress rehearsals for Rictavio's Carnival of Wonders

Lucian trying to teach Theo to drive his mini van and shoving the responsibility on Listerine when they make fun

Izek Strazni in his cop cruiser and uniform. He looks so stupid, y'all.

Fiona trying to recommend a good divorce lawyer to Lydia. It's a queer-coded af suggestion and very unreciprocated, but Lydia still takes the card and swears she'll consider it

Nikolai Wachter breaking in to the Vallaki hospital or county courthouse to find Elizaveta's medical records, trying to find out what they listed her cause of death. Karl is along for the shits and giggles.

Victor being offered a full ride to Immol University but having to "settle for" Vallaki Community College because his parents don't want him out of their sight after the bullshit that happened with Stella

Tam has hobo vibes. He's not a hobo - he's a homeowner with some land outside of town - but he comes into the city a couple times a month for supplies and people are weird about it. To be fair, Tam's probably also weird about it.

Rictavio has fangirls. No one is happy about it, but especially not Rictavio.

Where do the cars and mass-produced goods come from? Who knows!

The druids are eco-terrorists who are rumored to be part of the Cult of Mother Night. Some of them are more integrated into society, but they're still like... extremist hippies who want you to sign this pamphlet to protect the environment

Krezk is romanticized by sourdough starter tradwife wannabes. Real Krezkites don't know they're being celebrated on TikTok.

Vallaki Pride Events go hard. Vallaki Halloween trunk or treats. Vallaki holiday parties that last for dayyyys. You get what I mean.

God. Just all of modern Vallaki, tbh. I should get back to that fic.

Rahadin with a smartwatch. The only number he has saved in it is Strahd's. He still receives ill-timed calls from the brides, his baby mama, and his boyfriend, who just called to say hi. (Goddammit Cordy.)

Strahd has regular Zoom meetings with her top agents - the brides, Vasili, Rahadin - but someone always has hella lag and Rahadin's choir keeps getting picked up on the mic.

Vasili puts Lysandra up in a gorgeous penthouse apartment with a lot of windows. She wears a lot of designer brands to impress the in-laws, but otherwise lives in lululemon athleisure wear, trying to stay current enough that Vasili doesn't notice that she's slowly (compared to humans. Compared to him? Rapidly) aging.

Marigold facetimes with Cordy, but he's really bad at the camera so she usually ends up staring at the ceiling or the garden while they catch up

Ivan and Escher are rival influencers. Superfans have noticed little things that suggest they may be more than rivals, but Strahd/Escher shippers accuse them of reading too much into things. It's a scandal brewing in a small sphere of Barovia, so Strahd kind of ignores it. What she doesn't ignore is when Escher tries to include too much info about her or her court in his "little videos"

Kehrani is in the army and she kicks ass, but that's not new

Theo's entire bedroom being covered in statues of saints, live-laugh-love signs, and Rictavio fangirl posters.

[osamucide]

(joe gets kicked out of school for using) drugs with friends (but says this isn't a problem)

last friday, i took acid and mushrooms

i did not transcend

i felt like a walking piece of shit

in a stupid looking jacket

NSFW CONTENT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 2.4k

cw: gn!reader - no explicit anatomy mentioned, post-dark era, pre-entrance exam, port mafia!reader, past relationships/implied relationships, dazai-typical suicide mentions, manwhore dazai, explicit sexual content, drugs, references to drugs, drug use, talking and doing drugs, dazai is on drugs, dazai has tried every drug under the sun, just so many fucking drugs. don't do drugs please!

reid: installment 2/? of me using car seat headrest songs alongside dazai fic. ooc dazai probably but i like breaking him not sorry. this is not intended to romanticize substance abuse. addict dazai is a concept very close to my heart this is wholeheartedly me venting also all my fanfic is just so self indulgent. please for the love of god do not do drugs just send them to me thanks. can be read as a stand-alone or a part two to my previous fic drunk drivers/killer whales. you can find me on ao3 @angelzai. enjoy

. . . .ᐟ

“What have you been doing? Since you…”

Left. You falter but Osamu Dazai knows that’s what you mean to say. Since you left. That wouldn't have taken a fucking genius, though.

Well, he thinks, he could be totally honest right now. There's no one to hide from anymore, just himself. The fact that you're sitting with him has some old walls going up - the rather generic ones that go up with everyone - and he's hoping you won't take it personally if he does decide to lie. It would just be easy to. Familiar to.

He turns your voice over in his mind, imagines himself weighing it in his palms, and while the question hangs in the air suddenly he's in bed again with the wench of the week about a month or four back - one he bummed a cigarette off at some club during a routine bender and struck up a conversation with about the conceptualization of incomprehensible units of measurement, like lightyears. Dazai remembers that she took him home and let him snort ecstasy off the small of her back before he made out with her for what felt like six hours. She'd obviously wanted to fuck but he was still thinking, albeit warmly now, about lightyears and space and how awesome it would be to scale the side of a faraway terrestrial planet like an ibex - those cool mountain goats - and look off into a volume of nothing to observe the dilation of time with his tiny, filthy Earth eyes. Yeah, he wasn't getting any of that acute empathy he seemed to gain for other human beings when he was on E, so he asked for more. Her skin had felt like a flannel bed sheet and it almost hurt when she pulled away. He licked this dose off her tongue, per her discretion. It would've been hot if he hadn't imagined what it might feel like to lick a flannel sheet and almost gagged into her mouth. He said, "Sorry, I thought about if your tongue was a flannel sheet." She giggled and he giggled back. He kissed her more. She was so warm. He still couldn't get hard. He just kept thinking. He thought so much about lightyears and flannel sheets until he could barely discern the difference between them. He would've liked to have been wrapped up in either. The last time he had felt this introspective was when he was peaking on nitrous, but it was obvious he was still coming up. He started feeling sweaty and cold. He told himself that wasn't abnormal for ecstasy. He was trying to imagine she was a flannel bed sheet. He was sweating so bad. She was a flannel bed sheet and he was a lightyear and his skin was starting to feel like it was rising off his skeleton. He felt like he'd pissed his pants. He'd pushed her off and bolted for the bathroom. The fan in there was too loud. The manicured hand combing his hair back was burning his scalp. The toilet was kind of grimacing at him all smug-like. He didn't know what a lightyear was. He knew this was bad E. He vomited for an hour straight and meditated briefly on how horribly unsexy he felt before passing out. He woke up with an icepick headache and bummed another cigarette and apologized for pissing his pants on her bed (which he didn't actually do, but this was only clarified after he expressed he thought he had). He insisted that it wasn't her, she was beautiful, she was great, it was just the drugs, it was his own fault, but he still didn't give her his number. He just took the train as close as it went to his apartment, smelling like the very unsexy kind of sweat. Instead of showering, he had popped a Xan and went to bed. It was 3pm. And that was more or less what he had been doing since he left the Port Mafia.

While he recalls this, he makes some vague hand motions and opens his mouth a few times, not unlike a fish, as if he's about to speak but doesn't quite have the words yet. It's not that he doesn't want to tell you. You've been around long enough to have seen him and others high out of their minds plenty of times before. He knows you'd barely blame him for the wretched financial hole he has himself in now that Mori isn't around to sugar-daddy all his substances for him. It isn't remotely about the drugs.

It's about the fact that you found him in a bar in Numazu by total chance and paid his weeks-long tab before even asking him any questions about where he's been. He's not sure why you did that.

It's about the fact that you paid for the hotel room he's sitting cross-legged on the bed in, in front of you. He's considering how deep the crescents beneath your eyes look.

It's about the fact that you kissed him once when you both were sixteen and it convinced him that he'd never kiss anyone else ever again. But then he left, and in the year and a half since he's last seen you he's had more meaningless sex with more meaningless people than there were freckles across your whole body, which had, by the way, meant everything to him at one point.

"Not really..." Dazai shakes his head. "Anything at all."

You light a cigarette even though it's a non-smoking room. You'll be able to foot the bill.

"Come on," you say out of the corner of your mouth, puffing smoke in his face. "Not really anything at all?"

He doesn't ask, just takes the smoke from your lips to put it between his own. "Drugs," he summarizes truthfully. "Mostly coke. There's nothing like it. I swear it's better than H."

You quirk your mouth in semi-disapproval, taking back your cigarette. "You did always like your blow."

"Been exploring academia too, I suppose. I'm learning calculus right now." He's trying to make up for it. He doesn't need to.

Now you really look at him like he's on drugs. "For fun?" He nods, pleased with himself. "I thought you didn't like pain." You finally smile a little bit.

"It's interesting!" he insists with his signature drama. "God, can I just have my own?" He's gesturing to your pack, and you indulge him, lighting it off your own.

You look like you want to say something else, sucking your cigarette down like it's a race. Dazai studies you. Prompts you with nothing but his eyes, just like he always has, and you understand. It's your turn to look for the words.

"I mean... like... what- what," you make the vague hand motions too, "what are you doing, though? How- how are you... not..."

"Dead?" he finishes. "Yeah. I struck a cute little deal with the government."

He doesn't like how you lean back from him, even if it's slight, even if he expects it. He doesn't like how your eyes narrow and you look at him with something he can only place as distrust. You almost want to get up off the bed, but you stay, gazing into him. You're not flustered so easily by him anymore, and he has to notice. He does. And regardless, he knows exactly what you're thinking before you say it. "I didn't take you for a fed, Dazai." He knows about the gun in your jacket, too, and that you're at attention now. Your use of his last name stings.

"I didn't sell you out," he says, mocking offense, pushing himself up on those gangly limbs to cut a line of whatever's in the little plastic bag he pulls from his back pocket. "I didn't sell anyone out. Ango's a double agent. You have to know." You shrug - you'd be ashamed to admit you hadn't a clue - and your apprehension melts, but only a little. "My record's expunged as long as I clean up and sign on at the ADA in about six months."

You look at him incredulously, but he's busy at the desk. He could've left it at calculus.

"And this is your idea of cleaning up?" you ask.

The response you receieve is a long sniff. Dazai straightens out, huffs, pulls another drag off his cigarette.

If you were anyone else it would definitely be unwise of him to give such information to someone very much still on the inside. As high up as you had been alongside Dazai, knowledge of who had their fingers in what organizations was never for you to have. Your rank has only fallen since he left. You've developed a nose for people - you must after so long in the mafia - and Ango, who lays so low, especially after Sakunosuke's death, isn’t exactly at the top of your list until right now. You briefly wonder how much the boss knows. Mori surely would've killed Ango for orchestrating the freeing of his most precious pet. Mori surely has people after Dazai. As a matter of fact, he might have people after you already, not even an hour after you found the former prince of the underworld slumped over on a bar stool, because you never really know who’s watching. At the end of all that, though, your thoughts snag on whether that's something Ango could help anyone with, or if it was only for Dazai. No snitching would be involved. You don't think you're qualified to be a detective, but certainly there's some community service you could do to mop up after yourself, right?

Dazai seats himself in front of you again. The rest of this conversation does not happen verbally - not right away, at least. Whether it’s the coke or the accusatory tone your voice carried, he looks a little emptier than before. He looks an entire world away from you. You don’t say this aloud but he nods numbly like he hears you. You dimly recall a conversation you had with him years ago in which he told you he’d never done anything in his life that made him proud. That he didn’t really view himself as a person, but rather a machine designed toward destruction. Machines didn’t feel proud - didn’t feel anything, and no more or less when they executed their intended function.

You’re struck with the awareness that you still seem to know him so vividly, despite how much he’s obviously changed. The parts of this machine are shinier as if they’ve been cleaned. Although it grows old, it works like new, given its context. You recognize exactly what it’s doing. What he’s doing. And you think, maybe if you just throw your hand into the gears - even if it hurts you, even if it takes a piece of you off and mangles it - maybe you can get it to stop.

He, too, selfishly considers that you could be his way out. But is it really selfish if he can admit he'd drop it all if you asked him to? Flesh thrown against a monstrous man-made creation. Even though you seem to have stayed so very much the same, he doesn’t assume he knows you like he once did. But these could be the right circumstances. Maybe he just needs some flesh. Just needs somebody.

“You just need somebody.” Your head’s on the pillow, you twirl his hair, and that’s what you say to him after you both fuck like two virgins. You don’t mean to imply that somebody could be yourself, but for what it’s worth, that’s how he takes it. He can’t remember the last time sex made him cry, anyway, so it might as well be you.

“Just fucking leave.”

Your eyes snap open as the words leave him. Leave? Leave the room you paid for? That was rich, considering the kindness you’ve extended to him tonight after he abandoned you. Your throat constricts around the fact that not even ten minutes ago you were entangled with him in a way that felt both familiar and new. You would’ve proposed another round and let him clasp his hands around your neck like he used to. He’d always insist you’d beg him to stop one day, but you never did. Ten minutes ago you were ready to wipe away his bloody nose with your hair if he asked. Now he’s asking you to leave.

You sit up and throw your legs over the edge of the bed. Your eyes burn with tears and you’re about to get up, get dressed, maybe unload the remainder of the clip in your gun into his kneecaps - but he grabs your elbow.

“Leave the Port, idiot.” You look at him. Concern isn’t an emotion that graces Dazai’s features too often, and here it is. “That came out horribly. Plus, you’re so nice and warm. Get back here.”

So you do. You do what you do best when it comes to Dazai - you crawl back, disregarding how he’s hurt you. Hurt himself. And you just cry.

You cry because you’re so relieved you just misinterpreted him. You cry because he gives you whiplash so goddamn easily. You cry because you don’t have to give leaving a second thought. You cry because a year and a half ago he obviously wouldn’t have insisted you follow him. You cry because he’s so out of character and you almost think you like it. You cry because you like how warm he feels, too. You cry because he’s on drugs. He doesn’t cry because he already did while you made him cum, and now his pupils aren’t so blown, but with you against his chest he doesn’t feel like he needs to get up to do another bump, and that’s plenty for both of you. For all intents and purposes, the walls are all down now. Maybe he really needed to find you. You know you really needed to find him. It’s going to be difficult and dangerous and there’s more to be said, but at least you’ve found him.

You’re sniveling. He’s kissing your hair. “You can teach me calculus.”

Dazai recognizes the laugh that rumbles in his chest as one he hasn’t felt since he’d last seen you. “We’ll get ahold of Ango in the morning.”