#please pay no attention to the fact that you have to PAY FOR THE PRIVILEGE of paying your rent online now :D

[skitskatdacat63]

Stop flirting....

[fortune-maiden]

May my building's management company step on legos for the rest of their life.

[girliemattitude]

-- Guilty as Sin?- - M.S - -

A/N (1): I saw someone on @mattscoquette account saying how Matt was so ‘Guilty as Sin’ coded so I had to do it 🫶🏼 A/N (2): This turned out a little longer than what I expected because it has some introductory stuff at the beginning but I swear you’ll get what you came here for <3 💋 A/N(3): this is my work, please don’t steal it :)

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Me and my boyfriend Langdon have been together for about eight months now. I was never the type who wanted a serious relationship, everything about love cringed me out but there was something about him that intrigued me a lot, maybe It was the fact that he’s very tall and confident or his dreamy green eyes but I don’t know.

Our relationship was very good in the beginning, my friends used to make fun of me saying that I became what I swore to destroy because I acted like those annoying girlfriends who can’t shut up about their boyfriends, so annoying right?, anyways now I realize that what I felt wasn’t real because I didn’t really know him well so I idealized him and fell for a perfect version of him who I created but only existed in my head.

Is not like he’s a terrible person but he’s definitely not a good boyfriend, at first he was very attentive and sweet but as the months passed he started to be more distant, it seems like he’s not very interested in me anymore, we barely talk, when I ask about his day he answers with a quick “it was a’ight” but never returns the question, we don’t go on dates, we don’t even cuddle, all we do is hang at his apartment but he’s always to busy on his phone to pay any attention to me so I just stare at the tv pretending I’m interested in the show or movie he put on and at night sometimes we have sex, On the weekends he usually goes MIA and I won’t hear about him until Monday just to find out he was ‘out with the boys’. The sex has change too, he used to make me feel good and wanted, like it was an enormous privilege to have me, he always make sure I got cleaned up afterwards and that I received cuddles or water or whatever I wanted but now it’s always so dull and dreary, I feel used afterwards, he doesn’t make eye contact with me, it’s like he’s only concern is himself and his pleasure so I just lay there, during he asks if I’m okay, he states how good he feels and after he’s done he asks if I came, I never do but I always lie to him, he puts his shorts back on and then goes on his phone again, so I go the bathroom,I clean myself and then I go back to bed feeling empty.

I tried to talk to Langdon about it, I told him we have a problem but he brushed it off saying that I’m nuts and that we are better than ever. I’ve gotten used to it by now, I know I could just break up with him but there’s a tiny bit of hope that thinks he’ll change so I stay.

Lately I’ve been feeling some type of way about my friend Matt, I’m very close with him and his brothers, I mean we’ve known in each for a long time now and yes I used to have a little crush on him but that was ages ago and it went away so I convinced myself that what I was feeling currently was the same silly feeling I once had and that it will go away just like last time, the problem was that this time was different it was harder to ignore, it was more intense and it filled my mind with crazy thoughts. It started one day at the warehouse, I was sitting on a large table typing the last details of an essay when all of the sudden my laptop shut down even though it was completely charged, I was freaking out when Matt entered the room, he asked what was wrong and after I answered him he position himself behind me, both of his arms were on each side of me and I could feel his scent on my nose and his warm breath on my face, he was trying to figure out what had happened to my laptop but all I could focused on was his hands, holy shit they’re veiny and his fingers looked so long pressing buttons on the keyboard, my breath hitched and I know should’ve but i didn’t look away, I tried to I swear but when I gazed to the side I saw his tattooed arm and I pictured myself tracing the lines of them, I heard him murmured an almost none audible “fuck” that sent vibrations to my whole body, specially in between my legs. I still don’t know how long I was zoned out but suddenly the laptop was back on and he said “there you go sweetheart” and give me a soft smile.

That night I was in my bed alone and I couldn’t stop thinking about those hands, my heartbeat started to race as I imagined how it would feel to have his hands squeezing my hips as he pulls me in for a kiss, I thought that I would bet millions of dollars he’s a good kisser, would he bite my lip?, how would does longs fingers feel inside of me? . I couldn’t stop wondering, my head was fuzzy, my fingers went from resting on my stomach to under my panties and before I realized what I was doing I touched my clit with my middle finger, slowly and in circles, Matt and how his warm breath felt against my skin never left my mind, a familiar sensation of pleasure overflowed my body and I let out a moan which put me out off my trance and I stoped myself from going further. I kept on telling myself that Matt’s just a nice guy who happens to be very attractive and that I was confused because I felt horny and lonely, but that didn’t stop me because the next morning while I was showering my mind went back to Matt and I pictured him in there with me, he’s wet hair and naked body, he’s dick pressed against my back, his lips on my neck leaving messy and sloppy kisses, one of his hands all over my boobs and the other inserting his fingers inside of me and I couldn’t stop, I imagined him talking me threw it until I came undone screaming the name of one of my closest friends. After that I avoided the whole crew for I couple of days, I felt so guilty, I avoided Langdon too but that wasn’t that hard, it’s not like he was eager to see me either.

Yesterday I saw my friends again we went to a scape room and I tried to avoid Matt as much as I could, after that we went to a pizza place, as we were waiting for the pizza Nick and Chris went to the bathroom and Madi was on her phone, I was pretending to be on my phone too so I wouldn’t have to speak to Matt, he was sitting in front of me and I felt him stare but I didn’t looked up. He quickly switched seats and sat beside me, I ignored him again, I thought I succeeded when I saw Nick and Chris approach us but I was wrong, Matt got even nearer to me and whispered in my ear “is it just me or a you avoiding me today?” I told him he was crazy and that we were good but I don’t think he believed me, I’m a terrible liar but even if I wasn’t I know he noticed how my body froze when he whispered to me and how my eyes didn’t locked with his even once, he didn’t talk much after that little interaction between us. I know him, I know he was overthinking about why I was acting this way towards him, and I felt terrible but how I’m suppose to tell him that I’m the worst person alive because even though I have a boyfriend I can’t get him out off my head, that I keep recalling things we never did, that I can’t look at him in the eyes without having an unbearable need to kiss him, that I want him to hold me at night, or how we’ve already done it in my head and how that was the best orgasm I’ve had in the longest time or how it’s not only a sexual thing but also the fact that I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him?

Right now it’s the next day and I’m in my boyfriends couch, he’s beside me playing some video game, I’m looking at the screen and I hear gunshots and one of his friends yelling from the headphones he has on but my mind is on Matt once again, everyday day that goes by I feel worse, I know he’s frustrated because he knows something’s wrong but I can’t tell him, and my stupid boyfriend is next to me and doesn’t know shit, which makes me feel even worse, Langdon swears we are perfectly fine and I can’t help but feel like a cheater, I hate cheaters yet I am one, I haven’t touched Matt but mentally I’m full of sin.

Last night I told everything to my friend Madi, who stayed the night at my house to keep me company ‘cause “I seemed off”, of course she noticed too, everyone did, even Chris who’s always distracted asked me what the fuck was going on with me.

After I told Madi she stated that I shouldn’t feel guilty about anything,that we can’t control our thoughts but we can control our actions and I haven’t done anything wrong, she also told me I should break up with Langdon and tell the truth because i would be surprised to know what Matt feels too, I still don’t know what Matt feels, she wouldn’t tell me but it doesn’t matter, I can’t do that, I know Langdon hasn’t been the best boyfriend but he’s not a bad person, I just don’t want to hurt anyone but I guess that’s inevitable. Maybe our relationship is just in a rough patch and If I put more effort into it we’ll work it out and possibly light up the fire again. Yes that’s probably it, In a couple of days everything will go back to normal and I’ll stop getting those crazy thoughts.

Langdon gets off his game and asks me if I’m hungry, I say we should go out to eat since we haven’t done that in a while but he doesn’t want to so I offer to cook us something instead and he agrees, I smile big at him and suggest we could make dinner together but he just says “nah” and goes back to his game, but it’s okay I’m not giving up. I make some quick mac and cheese and we eat in silence, he offers to wash the dishes and I let him, baby steps I think to myself.

I stare at him as he’s cleaning the counter and I analyze him, he’s way taller than Matt, and more muscular, he’s eyes are green, not blue, he’s hair is lighter and slightly longer, he doesn’t have any tattoos and his hands are bigger. Overall they are both completely different people, even their personalities don’t match but weirdly the two of them are my type, which doesn’t really matter because I shouldn’t be comparing them anyway.

I walked over to Langdon and I intertwined my hands over his shoulders, I gave him puppy eyes and I stand on my tiptoes to give him a kiss, a genuine kiss he laughs and says “what was that for?”

“I just felt like kissing you, is there something wrong with that?” I reply with and innocent tone before I kiss him again, this time is a longer kiss, it gets heated pretty fast, he pulls me into his hard abdomen, grabbing my ass with both of his hand and I start to feel the bulge between his legs getting bigger. I pull apart out of breath and I ask him to take me to the bedroom, he doesn’t waste any time as he lifts me up effortlessly, my legs are up in the air and I’m being carried to his room. I can’t help but to think about how Matt wouldn’t lift me up as easily as Langdon just did and how I would tease him about it, (c’mon Matt I’m not that heavy) a giggle at the thought and my boyfriends looks at me weird; “what’s so funny?”, oh fuck, I gotta stop, “nothing don’t worry about it”. He puts me down on the bed and gets rid of his all of his clothes, except his underwear, I do the same and we go back to kissing, he’s laying on top of me, he starts giving me kisses on my jaw and goes down to my neck and collarbones, I support myself on my elbows so he could take my bra off, he squeeze one of my boobs and gently tease the other one with his mouth, murmuring things I can’t understand, all I I can do is moan at the feeling. I decide to take a little bit of control and I switch our position, now he’s laying on his back and I straddle him, I give kisses on his abdomen, down to his happy trail and before I reach his boxers I lick him sensually all the way up until I meet his lips again, I kissed him and I bite his bottom lip, “you are such a tease you know that sweetheart”, sweetheart, he never calls me that, that’s what Matt calls me, why I’m a thinking about Matt again?, I shake my head trying to brush off the thoughts and I remove his underwear, he sits up so we are chest to chest, I take a look at his hard cock and I stroke him a couple of times before I put my panties to the side and I aligned myself into him, I sink into him and the both of us let out a sigh of relief once he’s all in, he kisses me and I start to move back and forth slowly, he guides my hips until we found a nice rhythm, he’s groaning and I moan, my moans gets even louder once i start bouncing up and down on him, and it feel so good, he grabs my ass and my hands are on his shoulders for support, i close my eyes and suddenly I’m in Matt’s bed instead, his brown hair is sticking to his forehead, he’s blue eyes are lock in mine and they look much darker now due to his pupils being dilated, his cheeks are tinted pink and his mouth is open, I see his horse necklace moving along with our movements, his chest moves at a rapid pace as well considering that he’s out of breath. I whine so loudly and I rolled my head back at the overwhelming feeling and his left hand goes to my neck bringing me back to him “press harder, pleeaa-ssee” I say between heavy breaths, “yeah? You want me to choke a little do ya’?” “Omg, yess” , “all you had to do was ask baby”. My only response being the sounds leaving my throat, I place one of my hands on top of his left one that’s choking me and my other one goes to his forearm arm caressing his tattoos. I swear I could stay like this forever; “fuck, you’re so pretty, so perfect, just for me, shit I’m gonna cum babe ” “nonono, wait for me, I’m close”

I feel how his dick twitches a little inside of me, my movements increase even more and I start to tremble as I hit my climax and finally that familiar knot on my stomach pops and I came harder than ever, my eyes are close as I ride off my orgasm, my breaths are still irregular and when they’re about to go back to normal I hear “That was so good baby” and my eyes go wide open in shock. Langdon has a fucked out look on his face but he’s smiling at me with a huge grin and once again I feel like absolute garbage, I get off of him and i quickly go to the bathroom, tears are filling my eyes, am i allowed to cry?, my heart is full of guilt and regret, I cannot believe I fucked my boyfriend thinking about Matt but what surprised me the most is that even though i feel terrible, the back of my mind is thinking… ‘if I just came this hard just by the thought of him, how good would it feel to actually have sex with Matt? Does that make me mad? or bad?’ I have no clue all I know is that Madi is right, I have to break things off with Langdon.

………………………………………………………………………………….……………………

[mrsmnsn]

“Will you forgive me, please?”

Warnings: angst; eddie and reader are in a one year relationship; reader almost burst from stress; verbal fight; happy ending (the only right way, cuz i can’t stand when it ends sadly:)), no use of y/n (she is referred as sweetie/sweetheart), let me know if i’m missing something something

wc: 1.9k

summary: Reader is going crazy with how much is going on on her life. Studying for the final exams, work with terrible people. But on a weekend, when Eddie comes without warning you, you both fought for the first time in your relationship.

Being Eddie's girlfriend was the best part of your life. You loved him and the way he treated you. You've been together for a year now and, between this time, you got to know all sides of him. Goofy, funny, kind, sexy. But you've never seen him get mad. Pissed? Of course! All the time, he would be complaining about things or cursing other people who were assholes with him. But he was never mad, at least not with you.

But there was one specific time when you were having a terrible week. With the final exams, not to mention you mentoring other students, you were one step away from losing it. And there was your boss giving you the same speech all week because one of your co-workers snitched you for kissing your boyfriend at work. It was just a smooch!

"This girl's a bitch. Probably never touched a dick in her life!" That's what Eddie said to you.

But, by the end of the week, you were on edge. And being busy all the time, you never got the chance to spend a single minute with your boyfriend. But he would have to wait, the finals were more important now. Eddie didn't seem to agree. He showed up at your door with movies in his hands.

"Hey sweetie, i'm sorry i'm a little late. Had to kick some ass to get out of Family Video" You just hummed, trying to understand what was wrong with your calculus. "I'm great, thanks for asking!"

On his way he, unfortunately, met Jason at the same place. He didn't actually fought him, just some heated exchange of words. It got him a little pissed, but he was going to spend the night with you, so he pretended that he was fine. He was hoping that you would make him feel better.

"Eddie you can put the movie, i don't mind, but i'll not pay attention. I really need to review this"

"Yeah sweetheart, whatever you say" Of course. He was not listening, looking for some candies in your cabinet.

He sat by your side and kept talking to you. You were trying so hard not to cut him off, you really missed him, but you couldn't allow yourself that privilege of five minutes making out with him. So by the end of the first movie he brought, he started to say some curious facts about it but you let out a groan. "Fuck. Why physics were so hard?” You thought to yourself.

"Alright, stop. What the fuck? I've be trying to talk to you for the whole week, but you were too busy. Now that is your time to relax you're going to keep studying?" He said with a serious tone. At first you were quiet, waiting for him to calm down so you would not fight. But he said, louder this time "Say something, damn it!"

"What do you want me to say Eddie? I need to-" you were cut out

"Please, don't you think you studied enough? The whole week, is all you've been doing. You’re gonna burst into flames from thinking too much."He was now facing you, your book long forgotten as the both of you started to lose it.

"Well, for some of us, the constancy is required! I am not doing very good in this subject. I'm just trying to do my best and you should be doing the same." He shifted his body and giggled in a sarcastic way.

"Oh yes, let's remember that i was held back. So original. That's very dirty bellow the belt of you sweetheart." His facial expression was full of disappointment and anger.

"Can you not contort my words? I said as you should be doing your best too so you don't get held back again!" You regretted the time you said it. It was dirty of you and his eyes were not looking into yours anymore. "I know i was not very present this week, but can't you just wait 'till the goddamn exams to end. I don't know what happened for you be so rude but you shouldn't be taking it out on me!"

He was not looking at you, fidgeting with his rings, thinking of the right thing to say so you could stop fighting.

"All i wanted was to spend time with you, what the fuck is wrong with that?"

"There's nothing wrong, is just that i told you that i needed to get good at this."

"That's the fucking point, there's nothing to get better at, you've been working on it for so long, there is nothing new to see! Fuck, you’re not even answering when i talked to you."

"Stop being fucking dramatic Eddie! Do you think i like this, the way that i'm on the edge right now? Fighting with my boyfriend and friends, not having a fucking second to breathe because it feels like everything i do is wrong?"

"And i am the one dramatic. Let me give you a heads up. It's not the end of the fucking world if you fail a test. Besides, you couldn't do it even if you tried. You had to have sucked in the other tests to be held back, like me."

"Oh my god! Why don't you grow up a little and see how this is important to me? Look, we both are angry for some reason and are not in conditions to talk. I think is the best for the both of you for you to leave. So we don't hurt ourselves anymore."

"You always have to be so good and solve every damn problem, right? Only so in the end i can be the bad guy. Honestly, why are you the one to say what we should or shouldn't do?"

"Because it's my fucking house and i want you to leave!"

At this point, after wrestling and yelling at each other, you were with tears in your eyes panting without knowing what to do. Eddie gulped, stepped back and, not saying a word, he left.

The tears were rolling down your cheeks. Now there was no way you would focus on physics. You regretted so much. All the words said in the heat of the moment. You didn't mean any of them. And he probably didn't. You both said things to hurt each other in order to be right. Eddie was definitely upset about something, not just the lack of your attention. But now was not the time to find out.

——————

After a week, you finish every school exam and were finally free from school. And back in work, your co-worker was fired. She was caught fucking a random guy that you didn’t know on the boss’s office . “Guess Eddie was wrong” you thought giggling but getting upset the second after. You both have been avoiding each other. Eddie didn’t want to bother you and you didn’t want to hurt him. But it was time. You were tired of tearing up every time you remembered your fight.

So, at the end of your shift, you drove to the trailer park. It was the first time you fought and you hated. The feeling was that, at any second, you would lose him.

Knocking at his door, you stood there, waiting for him.

“Coming.” You heard his muffled voice. When he opened the door, he had an annoyed expression that shifted to a concerned one once he saw it was you. He was shirtless, wet hair and sweatpants that hung low on his hips. You didn’t know if it was because of the long week not seeing him, but he looked incredibly handsome. “Hey” It was the only thing he could say, surprised by your appearance.

“Hi… Can we talk.” You said hesitant, not knowing where to start.

“Sure. Please” He opened the door wider letting you in. Guiding you on the couch, where you both sat in awkward silence. It didn’t even look like you two were together for a long time. “I assume you’re here to talk about last weekend.” You nodded trying your best not to cry already which was really hard because of the way he looked at you.

“Look Eddie, i don’t even know where to start. We both lost our senses and said terrible things we shouldn’t. I honestly feel like-“ A feeling you grew accustomed in the past week grew in your throat. You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “I felt like i was losing my mind and that everything i was doing was wrong. You were right. I was taking too much at once and i couldn’t take it.”

“No no no. Sweetheart, i was the wrong one. I was worried about you and my own shit and i put that on your shoulders.” He said whipping your cheeks. “And as i usually do, to run away from my problems, i pretended that none of that was happening and didn’t realize how important studying was for you. I am truly sorry for that and for the fight.”

You hugged him tightly. His hands surrounded your waist and his nose nestled on your neck, sniffing your sent. He’d missed you deeply. “I’m sorry too” you said softly and moving away just enough to see his face. “I just want you to know that i don’t meant shit from what i’ve said. That was awful of me. I felt awful. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Of course i forgive you, sweetie. I was supposed to be the one apologizing. I also didn’t mean any of that crap. You forgive me too?” He said giving you a smirk that made you giggle.

“Yes. But only if you tell me why you were so worked up that night.”

“Oh shit, you’re right. My week was not great either. You know how much i hate finals. Before going to yours, i stopped at Family Video and i met with Jason Carver. And well, you know the story, he calls me a freak and i pretend that he hurt my feelings. But that night, he started to talk shit about us, like you were way out of my league. And until then i was like, tell me something i don’t know. But then the son of a bitch called you a whore and that you probably sold yourself for one fuck in exchange for a review of any subject. And i was like “what the fuck dude?”. I just lost my mind. Thank the metal gods that Steve stopped me from beating his face.”

“Oh my god! You could have told me” You don’t even know why you said that. You literally fought because you were too into your studies.

“It’s alright. He normally doesn’t piss me off. But I just can’t accept him talking shit about you. As if he knew you enough to call you a whore.”

The good thing is that you got back to normal and cuddled for the rest of the day. Eddie wanted to stay close to you as much as he could, so he asked begged for you to stay over. So here you were, before going to sleep telling how much you loved each other.

“Good night baby” Even in the dark room, you could see his beautiful eyes looking at you with so much love

“Good night Eds” Closing your eyes ready to sleep, felling your man’s hand caressing you, you were sure that you were in heaven. Out of the sudden you remembered.

“Eds!” You turned fast to him scaring him a little “You won’t believe what happened.”

“What?” Poor man, he was half asleep. You giggled at his confused face.

“Apparently, that girl from work did a lot more than touching dick…”

“I told you she was a bitch. A man knows”

“Shut up”

*if you have any ideas/request/sugestions; please sent it to me, my inbox is open. :)

[gamblersdoll]

can u write for gyomei again please😕 just headcanons of how he would be like when he likes a fellow hashira/ what he looks for in a partner!! Im feeding off of CRUMBS cuz gyomei is so underrated 😭😭 THANK U!

ngl i wasn’t paying attention to him much only to sanemi 🥲 but i analyzed him.

gyomei does not really have a type, despite what people say about him.

him meeting a new hashira and him having a schoolboy crush, hes always somewhere behind you. his tall physique giving scary dog privilege.

but its accidental. hes alot more sensitive with you, yet being a sensitive person already. hearing your story’s actually have him sobbing, yet, he doesnt pity you. he sees your strength.

he also loves the fact you werent scared of him, because he embodies the gentle giant.

hes just in love, he holds you as he can and also carries you.

signs he likes you: he relies on you most, your decisions make him whole. he shares his prayers. he prays around you and with you. he also does not mind you not being religious. he also gives you beads, hoping you find use or luck with them. piggyback rides!

his love language is words of affirmation and service. he finds stretching with you or massaging your body after a huge workload most intimate than sex.

he doesnt have much signs or doesnt have any “types.”

[onyourowndaisymae]

mammon headcanons -- happy birthday 2023!

i wanted to post some headcanons for the birthday boy and thought it would be fun to explore what his actual day looks like. here are some of my thoughts (minor suggestiveness below):

for starters, mammon is maximizing every single minute of his birthday. from midnight to midnight, all 1440 minutes belong to him, and he can do with them whatever he pleases.

to maximize his privileges on his big day, he'll usually try to coax you into sleeping in his bed the night before. that way, you'll be there when the clock strikes midnight on his birthday and when he wakes up that morning. no matter how eager he is to get his special day started, he'll always take a moment to admire you while you're sleeping by his side-- your quiet breaths, your pleasant expression, maybe even your bedhead if you don't protect your hair at night. now this is a sight he'd be happy to wake up to every morning.

on that note, his getting ready process takes longer than usual. he'll linger about chatting with you about the day's plans, musing about all the surprises you and his brothers had prepared for him.

(ideally, most of his day would revolve around alone time with you-- but he knows his brothers are all too stingy to let him celebrate without him.)

no matter what the plans are, you're right there by his side. devil's coast? you're next to him on the rides. massive party? he's holding your hand as you weave through crowds together. casinos? well, he'd prefer you on his lap, but sitting nearby where your thighs brush together every time he shifts is an acceptable alternative if that's too much for you.

it may be his day, but he's constantly trying to win/buy you things. you'd think the avatar of greed would want to hoard gifts to himself, but no. he's into sharing the wealth today. after your third matching trinket, you begin to realize just how happy being connected with you like that makes him. jewelry, keychains, stuffed animals-- none of it matters as much as the simple fact that you're matching with him (and none of his brothers).

(he's also not above slipping things into your pockets when you're not paying attention. a sweet gesture, or an excuse to touch your hips/ass? he'll never admit to the latter.)

when the festivities begin to wind down at night, that's when mammon gets even clingier. he'll wait until a proper time to snag you away-- "c'mon, come help me get more to drink, human"-- and lure you somewhere more private. you're dutifully making yourself another drink when his arms wind around your waist from behind. he waits for you to face him before pressing his lips to yours. his kiss is hot and needy, warm breath intertwining with yours as he pulls you closer, crowding you around the edge of the counter as he gets as close as possible. your hands wander to his hair, his jaw, the sides of his face-- you can feel the flush of his skin against your palms.

eventually, one of his brothers stumbles upon you and you have to separate. by the time people start retiring at the end of the night, he's not-so-subtly urging you to join him in his room again tonight. sure, it may be past midnight and technically not his birthday anymore... but you'll still pamper him, won't you? today of all days, he's allowed to be greedy with you-- with all of you.

[4kirijo]

.... my lovely lifesaver

♡ ྀི༘͏ bodyguard! blade x affluent progeny! reader :3

this was barely proofread. it's nearly 4 am omg. anyways. i thought of "ridin" by lana del ray nd asap rocky as well as "genesis" by grimes while writing :3

no content warnings, fluff ^_^

odd jobs were not blade's thing.

he preferred things to be simple and less involved. an assassination or a scheme to overthrow a planet's leader were more up his alley.

not taking care of the child belonging to an affluent family.

your concerned relatives had gone through a long list of potential candidates to work as your bodyguard, and somehow stumbled across him. despite his reluctance, blade begrudgingly accepted the offer. the pay was generous, exceedingly so.

he hadn't expected to grow fond of you over the coming months. in fact, he dreaded the idea of his job. being the babysitter for a high maintenance progeny was the last thing he expected, and acting as another parental figure for them was something that blade wasn't cut out for. such things plagued the back of his mind, even if he didn't want to admit it.

however, you weren't like the person in his expectations, keeping him up from the much needed sleep he required.

you were much benign than what he believed, shockingly so. from the outside, you were nothing more than a privileged heir, blessed to be born with a silver spoon in their mouth, and prone to bad behavior. yet--- when he gave his first greetings, your responses would always be quiet and respectful.

he'd always be treated to a curt nod, a soft hum, and a gentle smile. those gestures of yours felt sweet to blade, akin to the taste of raw honey. perhaps you were that polite to everyone, it was the more rational answer to explain your behavior. however, he couldn't help but want your attention to be on him only.

often times, he'd find himself observing every curve, furrow, and flaw in your delicate features (when you weren't looking, of course. he couldn't allow himself to be obvious, it would shatter his dignity).

during his more restless nights, he'd ponder how receiving your affection would feel. could it be apple-sweet like fleeting touches and longing gazes? or would it be similar to tasting an orange? a mix of cheeky kisses and tender declarations of love?

questions about you tend to take center stage in blade's mind nowadays. was his performance good enough yesterday? did you notice him staring at your visage for a second too long? are you one for acts of service? or do you prefer to be more physical with of affect---

"....... blade, are you listening?" you quietly asked him, tilting your head.

despite being caught off guard by your sudden remark, blade attempted to mask his scrutinizing glance at you with his usual stoic demeanor.

"hm? could you repeat that again for me, please?"

your eyebrows furrowed at his perplexity (he'll have that image of your pretty expression burned into his mind for days), yet you continued your thought once more-- albeit with some exasperation.

"i asked if you'd like to continue our outing, you seem awfully tired, blade. i don't want to burden you further."

he quickly replied to your concerned question, "i appreciate your concern, but i'm fine. i can handle a few more hours of shopping."

blade was lying. but, admitting his fatigue felt like a blow to their happiness, and-- he couldn't say 'no' to fixating over their expressions.

"mm, are you sure that we shouldn't call it a day? ....... i don't wanna put extra stress on you." you couldn't help but respond to his dismissal with a bit more concern than before.

although it was quite bothersome to have someone be so considerate of his wellbeing after years of independency, blade found your words to be endearing. the sweet sugar cookie scented perfume emanating from you didn't help quell his overwhelming feelings either.

"..... no, let's keep shopping. i insist."

blade was enamored with you, to a pathetic extent. it bothered him to hell and back. but--- he couldn't imagine himself anywhere other than standing near you, longingly watching your every move, all while protecting you from the cruel world.

a/n: i hope ppl enjoy this !!!!!! it's my first fanfic :3 um its so hot. i hate sumemr. bye.

[ss-skyearn]

Took Too Much

❝They say your love lasts forever if you see the first snow together.❞

PAIRING : Hwang Hyunjin x female!reader

WORD COUNT : 4.5k.

GENRE : Angst, Smut, Fluff.

WARNINGS/CONTENT : explicit sexual content, substance abuse, longing, mutual pining, vulnerability, they're in love and just want each other, angst with a happy ending.

SMUT WARNINGS : grinding, dry humping, foreplay, petnames, launderie kink, desperation, WORSHIPPING (quite literally), unprotected intercourse (don't try at home).

A/N : This piece is a little heavier than what I usually write but am particularly fond of it; feedback much appreciated. As usual, enjoy, lovelies. ♡

But it's a silhouette you'd recognize anywhere.

Those legs that you were trapped between during stolen moments of vulnerability.

Those large palms that held you down while you shook from the white hot pleasure the same hands brought you.

That soft blonde mop of hair that tickled your inner thighs when the same head was buried in your heat, almost every chilly night like today. And every warm one too.

It's funny.

How a single 'ding' can mean so much, can seize your heart, can threaten to bring out what you have been trying so hard to suppress.

It was a heat of the moment thing, done in good fun.

"It gives me a special privilege," he'd said.

"That makes no sense. You already occupy the largest unit in my heart," you'd breathed against his lips.

Moving back an inch, he'd whined, "It'll let you know it's me and that you have to abandon everything to give me attention. Pretty, please?"

You never could say no to his doe eyes, a fact he exploited on the daily.

So you'd given in, changing the ringtone for his messages and calls to one that is seperate from the rest of your contacts.

So really, it was a spur of the moment decision he'd proposed after having been interrupted mid make out session, him claiming a special place on yet another part of your being.

It's funny, honestly.

How the tone that once was the cause of butterflies going rampant in the pits of your belly, now has reason to cause grief of the same, if not more, measure.

You know who it is before you even chance a glance at your screen, but you look all the same.

Not knowing what you were expecting, the sorrow burning a deeper shade of red is felt and you reckon that it's the price to pay for reaching out to something you know would elicit a reaction such as this.

Hyun<3

You hadn't deleted his contact, the reason you're unsure of to this day. Perhaps a reminder that he did in fact once exist in your life, had a grounding presence, a place reserved all for himself in the mainland of your heart, and not someone entirely dreamt up.

It surely felt like it at times.

The silence from his end hurt you, broke you, shattered you, despite having been at your request. Days seemingly never ending, nights even moreso, your house empty, bed cold. All of it ate away at you a little at a time, leaving behind a silhouette tainted with holes, torn and run down at the edges.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't imagine, didn't long, didn't yearn for this very moment. The moment his side of the silence ceases, the moment he, despite your asks, reaches out.

So why does your heart feel about fit to burst at the seams? Why do you so badly want to run away? Why do you feel the air suddenly burning its way into your lungs?

"Hello?" your voice is but a whisper, foreign to anyone who's known you.

"Baby?"

Eyes closing shut, you let a long drawn sigh escape your nostrils. Being all too consumed in the eagerness of the manifestation of the moment you'd been wanting, you didn't stop to consider what his voice was capable of inflicting, underestimating your own longing for everything that's him.

"Baby, you there?"

"Why are you calling me?"

A rustling sound follows, as he lets out his own well deserved breath of air.

It's a sense of relief, if anything. Knowing that you're not the only one tormented.

A sick, sadistic kind of relief, sure. But relief all the same. Labels stopped meaning much to you a while ago.

"Missed your voice," he mumbles, tone having an unusual tilt to it.

You don't respond. Or rather, you can't. For if you will yourself to speak in this moment, a choked sob is about all that'll make its way out.

"Missed you," the tilt deepens and you catch yourself mere moments before voicing out your concerns. Not having spoken to him since the pair of you parted ways, it's going to take time adjusting to the fact that he's no longer accountable to your questions, your worries. And you're no longer expected to care for him.

You are no longer wanted.

"Why are you calling?" you echo, the fact that your voice is growing quieter by the second not lost on you. If anything, it's the same fact that withholds you from saying more.

"It's the first snow today."

You know what he's thinking. It'd be a lie to say you haven't been thinking the same all day.

You stay quiet, waiting for the blow.

When did you turn into such a masochist? You know the next thing coming out of his mouth is going to tear apart your tattered heart that you've been fixing up the past year since he left you.

"We met on the day of the first snow."

Alas, bandaids don't fix bullet holes.

They're ripped apart, shredded to nothing. Tattered and frayed, used for all their worth. Leaving behind the pieces of your heart, desperately clinging onto each other, trying and failing to stay in league.

"They say your love lasts forever if you see the first snow together."

A dry chuckle follows, filling the air with despair, a feeling contrary to the act in of itself.

"That's all fucking bullshit, isn't it?" the tilt to his voice wavers, a little sniffle enough to withdraw one from you too.

"Look where it got us," the silky voice breaks, the same one you adored.

The voice that once called you 'love', whispered confessions into your hair, your ears, your core. The voice that took on a hoarse tone when you woke up in his arms on late mornings, the one that promised to be with you always.

Empty confessions. Empty promises.

"Why are you calling?" seems like this is the only thing that's making its way out of your throat tonight. The only thing that can make its way out.

He hums, then chuckles again. The same hollow laugh, detached, impassive, phlegmatic.

"You always were stubborn, weren't you?"

"Hyunjin," your voice is stern, indicative of a warning.

But he finds no such emotion behind it.

"Keep going."

"Wh—"

"Keep saying my name. Please."

It's only going to take so much for the choked sob that you've been holding at the back of your throat to be let out. And it's taking every fibre, every alight neuron within you to keep it in.

"Why?" a meek whisper. Your voice wavering.

"Because I love it. Love you," a quiet sob. His tone trembling. "Still," A single word. Sealing in an entire universe worth of meaning.

Eyes falling shut again, you don't stop the trail of heat that burns your cheeks. For the first time in a year, you let yourself go. Let yourself feel.

Even if it's grief. Even if it's sorrow.

Your let yourself feel.

A huff of breath is heard through the receiver, followed by a shudder.

"You were always better than me with cold."

Your eyes snap open, back ramrod straight and despite knowing what you'll find, you hastily draw the curtains aside. And sure enough, the snowfall is steady, windy breeze rustling leaves off their petioles, streets emptier than they should be considering the early hours of night.

And for good reason.

"Hyun, are you out?"

"You still have me all figured out," he lets out, and you can almost see his breath condensing in front of his face, courtesy the coldest day of this year's winter.

"What are you doing out? Get in right now," the assertive tone isn't something you've used in a while. Maybe you just didn't have anyone to use it on anymore.

He chuckles again, seemingly the only reaction he's able to give you, the only reaction that doesn't involve speaking, lest the wobble to his tone give him away.

"Hyun, seriously. Get the fuck in."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Don't know where I am," the sigh that follows lets you know that he just closed his eyes. It's the one he let out every night when he laid behind you, his chest to your back, him buried deep in you. It's when he felt the most at peace, he used to say. Coming home and being with you, feeling you, inside out. Quite literally.

Though what he's finding peaceful about the biting cold is beyond you.

"What do you mean you don't know? Hyun, don't fuck with me right now."

The next chortle is almost a laugh, the irony of your statement not lost on you. You think you hear something eerily similar to "how I wish" through the microphone, but you choose to ignore it.

"Hyunjin. For the last time, where are you?" even as your tone indicates your growing impatience, your body works on autopilot. Before you know it, you're getting up and reaching for your car keys, all while throwing a fleece jacket over your shoulder.

"Is getting you mad the only way to make you say my name?"

He's not listening. Something you're not used to. Sure, not listening and communicating is what got you both where you are today, but it's something you've never been at the receiving end of. It's the complaint he always had. And the complaint you always brushed off.

You suddenly remember another spur of the moment thing you did back in the day.

You pull out the app where you had your locations visible to each other, knowing of the other's whereabouts at all times. Your friends had called it a red flag, that he was possessive, obsessive even, to suggest something of this sort.

Little did they know it was your idea.

You see him, his little bitmoji some ten kilometres away from your current location.

Even as you're making your way to the car, shoving the steady falling snow out of the way, you make a show of protesting, "Use goggle maps and drive home."

"Can't drive either."

"Why?"

Silence.

And it gives you reason to fret. Despite the unnerving tilt, he's been responsive and dare you say vulnerable all throughout, the shake to his voice not holding him back from letting his feelings known.

So the first time he's silent is enough to make you break into a cold sweat.

"Hyun, why can't you drive?"

You hear him drag a hand down his face, some rustling of clothes following shortly after.

Another deep exhale, another beat of silence.

"Hyunjin," you settle on it as the last measure, knowing it's the only way he'll answer, the weakness he has for you saying his name made plenty clear today.

"I'm sorry," the whisper is barely there, almost lost in the sounds of your engine revving.

But he's the only one you've ever had ears for.

So you hear him. You hear him loud and clear.

"Why?" while he may not be egoistic, apologising isn't something either of you are good at. It's always been that way. A constant push and pull, a tug of war, a battle of wills, seeing you caves in first, who loses first. Hardly a healthy partnership, but what you had with him made it all worth it. More than worth it. He's the closest thing to a soulmate you'll ever have. If they do in fact exist, he's your other half.

He once was. He always will be.

"I- I just.. I'm sorry, baby."

Ice cold panic grips your heart, the external cold fading by comparison. He's apologized twice in a row now, and while your past self would call it improvement, in this moment, dread is the only sentiment you feel.

You stay silent, stepping on the race, praying he doesn't pick up on the sound of your engine accelerating.

A long moment of daunting silence later, he says something you don't understand, or rather refuse to understand.

"I took too much."

Its beyond refusal, a feeling akin to denial.

You deny to process what he just said, what he just implied, what he just meant.

"Stay right where you are," so, much like everything else, you choose to ignore it.

He seems taken aback for all of three seconds before his tone softens, "You coming to get me?"

You choose to ignore this too, convincing yourself that this is just mindless rambling to him.

His words suddenly hold no weight, his confessions empty.

Like always.

You glance at the GPS mounted to the dash.

One kilometre away.

"Do you remember when I kissed you?"

"You've kissed me more times than I can count."

Even as your heart is splitting in two, even after the recent realisation, you somehow find yourself reponding.

It's honestly all you've been wanting since he walked out of the bedroom, out of the apartment, out of your life that late September night.

"That day. The day of the first snow. The day we met."

You don't respond.

He takes it as a sign to continue.

"I knew it then. I know you knew it too."

Eight hundred metres.

"That you were for me. And I you."

Silence from your end again.

"How did we end up here?"

You know how. He knows how.

Five hundred metres.

Suddenly, a loud beep resounds, the call abruptly ending. That sends you into a chill panic, grip on the gear tightening. You pull over, and try tracing his location again. To no avail.

The location is gone. The ringtone goes straight to voicemail. Messages not delivering.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to remind yourself between deep breaths that he's capable of taking care of himself.

But then comes a gush of memories. Of a time when he walked straight into a pole while facetiming you once. You'd laughed then and called him a manchild.

The memory, albeit fond, doesn't help ease your worries, only aggravating the uneasy churn of your stomach.

Exhaling loudly, you talk yourself down your own anxiety first, realising that this is the first step if you want to have any chance at getting to him.

This is the general location, you remember. Once again, you kick start your car, the frantic rumble of the engine echoing down the empty roads, signifying the urgency of the affair.

It takes another twenty minutes and a slow drive down the snowy streets for you to spot a silhouette in the distance.

The person is slumped down against a rusty pole, back pressed to it, long legs propped up with feet flat on the snow covered pavement, head resting on the bend of their elbow thrown over upward knees. With their head buried in the crook of their arm, their face isn't visible, the thick smog hovering around them adding to the haze.

But it's a silhouette you'd recognize anywhere.

Those legs that you were trapped between during stolen moments of vulnerability.

Those large palms that held you down while you shook from the white hot pleasure the same hands brought you.

That soft blonde mop of hair that tickled your inner thighs when the same head was buried in your heat, almost every chilly night like today. And every warm one too.

You don't know when you got off your car, for now you find yourself looking down at the same silky golden locks.

Your boots sink into the snow, the ice underneath them melting.

He gives no indication of knowing of your arrival, and you wonder if he's managed to somehow fall asleep here.

Tiny snowflakes having made themselves home on his hair, almost forming a halo, he looks angelic. You reach out, wanting to dust them off his head before your stop, hand hovering.

You're suddenly tentative, when you didn't hesitate to tug on these very locks whenever he was in you.

That simple knowledge brings forth the harsh reality.

He's here. Right in front of you. Yet so far away.

Hand still in air, you're entirely unprepared when his head suddenly shoots up, palm grabbing your wrist.

"Baby?" his voice is gravelly, eyes bleary.

Yet he's the most perfect piece of art you ever did see.

He's gorgeous, your mind says to you— as if the fact could've ever been hidden, been denied even in incoherence.

But it's when you look closely that it comes crashing down. The realisation.

His slim face is gaunt now, eyes red and hazy, bags prominent. He's gorgeous, sure, but not as stunning as he once was.

You're suddenly knocked off balance, back pressing into the pole he was just resting on, the surface hot from his warmth.

It takes far too long for you to perceive what it is that's actually happening. His fingers dig into your hips, large palms splayed over your back, winding to the front, thumbs meeting. Warm breath tickles your neck, forcing out a gasp of your own.

"You're here," his voice is hushed, reverent even, afraid that the illusion of you would disappear any moment.

You nudge his shoulder, trying to shake him off, albeit unwillingly.

He removes himself from where he's nestled, looks you in the eye before closing them, forehead resting against yours.

From what you were able to make from that brief glimpse into his orbs, they're bloodshot, not the kind that result from lack of sleep nor the ones that speak of tiredness.

No, they are indicative of him being far away from the realm of normal thinking. It's the excuse you allow yourself to live, the reason you don't push him off you.

He's not thinking.

His tongue darts out, gliding over the plump of his lower lip, the texture of which you know by heart. Parting open, quick breaths leave him, and the proximity is to blame for the fact that it goes right into your mouth.

He puffs rapidly as if suddenly breathless, lips quivering, seemingly trying to find something to say, or perhaps trying to not say what his heart wants to.

"Tell me you're real this time."

This time?

"Hyun—"

"Just- just tell me you're really here," his eyes open slowly, drowsily, forehead still pressed into yours, hands sliding from your hip up your sides, caressing, feeling, landing on your nape.

Once again they circle you, this time overlapping over the back of your neck as he pulls you closer still, "That I'm not making you up again."

"What happened to you?" looking into his eyes again, you know it's not him. He's gone. For now.

So it's more of a question to yourself than to him.

What happened to him? What happened to your artist, your lover, your Hyunjin?

And just as you surmised, your question fell on deaf ears for he is a man on a mission.

"Baby, you're here right? With me? You came to me?"

Moving to close your nimble hands over his big ones, you relish in their warmth for a moment, the reason of said unnatural heat another thing you choose to ignore for now.

You can wallow in guilt by yourself later. All you want.

But now that you've allowed yourself this moment of weakness with him, you plan to bank on it.

"Yes, Hyun, it's me. I'm here."

Encircling your arms around broad shoulders, you pull him to you, into you. His own hands slip to your hips, squeezing you right back.

"I keep seeing you everywhere, everyday. Wherever I am. Whenever I'm awake."

You think you hear a sob, but don't let it show, for you're not immune to the sorrow either.

Maybe the apathetic front was just that, after all. A front. One you had to put up, one you had to believe in— fool yourself into believing in, if only for self preservation.

"You're not making me up this time."

He doesn't reply with words, doesn't need to. The way his hold on you tightens, lips brushing the side of your neck speaks volumes.

Hot, wet kissed trail up the column of your throat, their heat melting off any snow falling on you. Surroundings be damned, you throw your head back, giving him the silent consent.

That seems to be invitation enough for him, as his kisses turn to sucking, sucking turns to biting. He's marking you, something he enjoyed partaking in quite a lot back in the day, and you already know the colour of each of the marks that he's leaving, only through the pressure and the ratio of tongue-teeth action he spares your skin.

You permit it, indulging him, indulging yourself.

But it's when he noses his way to your jaw and finally lifts up to look into your eyes that you're reminded of reality, of his incapacitated state.

You jolt back, practically shoving him off.

He's understandably puzzled, brows creasing, panting.

"Wh— did I do something wrong? I remember you liked when I did this? You don't anymore?"

"No. It's not that. I do like it. Maybe even more than before."

The crease to his forehead eases out as he takes a single step forward, to which you take one of your own. In the opposite direction.

He stops dead in his tracks, the bend to his brows deeper than before.

"Baby, why are you going away from me?"

You try not to look into his eyes, the branching redness visibly growing new stems by the second.

"Don't go away from me."

Unlike what some might assume, you're not put off, not repulsed by gleam to his eyes, nor by their sanguinence. In not too proud of a moment, you'd say you're even used to it.

It's what you see every time you look into the mirror. What you hate, what you need.

A vicious cycle. A cursed affair.

The glint in your eye reflects his, ignites his, the two light beams meeting to string together.

The profane symphony. The impious consonance.

You did try. Tried not to let it take over you, it's been more than half a day since you last indulged in a sniff, after all. But Hyunjin is nothing if not a vice to your repressive instincts.

Your kryptonite. Your aphrodisiac.

One look at his bloodhsot eyes and you know this is it. He is the one. Who else could be the other half to your broken, tattered soul? Who else could be the mirror image of your own intoxicated orbs? Who else could slot into your cracks?

He steps forward, and this time you don't have it in you to recoil. Closing your lids, you let him snake his arms around your waist, pull you impossibly close. His face finds the comfort of your neck again, hot breathe laced with desperation marking the seeping away of the last of your restraint, taking with it any hope you had to do this right. For once.

"Don't go."

You've known him long enough to realise he's pulling apart your guard, piece by excruciating piece. You've known yourself long enough to realise you're caving, embracing the pain that is him.

"Let's get you home."

You don't see anything, too consumed in the fire that is him, his touch.

You're kissing him like you need him to breath. He's kissing you like he needs you to survive.

His hands pull down the zipper to your shirt, legs guiding you back onto the bed proper, step by step.

You land on your back with a soft thud, shirt thrown off somewhere. His own following suit soon after.

His eyes land onto the black lace adorning your chest, shining and all too inviting. The same lace he got you for your two year anniversary, the same lace he had you in that day, the same lace he had you in on countless days after that.

He places one knee between your legs, the duvet dipping, and nuzzles his face in your cleavage, taking in a long inhale.

Nosing about, he whispers, "Are you doing this on purpose?"

You know what he means. He never failed to mention what this set did to him, to his brain, his length. And you'd made it a point to use it against him every chance you got.

Today however, was not that chance, but you're grateful for the fateful coincidence.

He gets up only to slowly peel off your leggings and partially hovers over you, knee between your legs again, this time much closer to the warmth of your core.

His eyes trail down your figure, taking in all the curves, the crevices. Remembering all that once was his, learning all that he wasn't there to witness during your time apart.

His hands gently move up and down your sides, caressing and massaging, eyes going back and forth between the two lace pieces.

They're the same pair, but your body has changed quite a bit since he last had you in it.

You've somehow managed to surpass your own beauty and it's nothing if not a detriment to his sanity.

And his stamina. He's suddenly not too proud of it, if the exponential build up of his arousal is any indication.

The heavy caresses have now pushed you down the bed, your heat coming in contact with the rough patch of denim on his knee. You gasp at the contact, your core tender from how drenched you are from all his staring and fondling.

He picks up on it and uses his hold on your hips to begin grinding you on his knee. You groan, your thin silky lace and his thick rough denim adding to your arousal. Never would you have imagined that simple gliding, over the confines of clothes no less, could feel this good.

This is what being with Hyunjin is always like. Trying, experimenting, tapping into uncharted territory, with the knowledge of safely, of assurance, of security.

Sleeping with him, you got to know of your own body, what made it tick, your likes, your turn ons.

Being with him, you got to know of yourself, what made you you, your talents, your strengths.

Existing with him, simply made you whole.

So if this is all you get, you'd be content.

Moans and whimpers echo in the room that's now empty without his studio table nestled in the corner, without his clothes piled up in random heaps, without music equipment thrown astrew on the wooden floor.

Empty. Empty. Empty. Without him.

"Goddess."

A loud moan rips from your throat, the sound unholy. Your eyes snap open, in shock of your own reaction.

"You like that?"

Staring up at him with wide eyes, you're not sure what to say. It's yet another uncharted territory, yet another epiphany. And you're grateful it's with him.

Leaning forward he captures your lips between his soft ones, tongued clashing, spit mixing, swaying his head side to side, smearing your collective essence all over your cheeks and jaws.

"Like it, my goddess?"

Another equally loud moan echoes, even as his grinding has ceased. Your response is unprompted, no physical stimulation in sight.

While it might have been embarrassing, you're anything but.

Simply because it's him.

And you're not yourself. And he's not himself.

But you're together. All else rendered trivial.

Feedback and reblogs are very highly appreciated. They're what keep the community alive and help content creators stay motivated.

[Send an ask if you wish to be added to the permanent taglist.♡]

© ss-skyearn 2023. All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting and translating any of my works is not allowed.

[hearts4hughes]

Hi! I love your writing….Can I please get #7. “you don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.” With Quinn Hughes??

fake dating - quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem! reader

warnings: swearing, nothing else :)

notes: this took way too long for me to write. it’s lightly proofread because i have no motivation to fully proofread it. i was really proud of this imagine towards the beginning, but i feel like it’s just really rushed at the end. let me know how it is!

gif is not mine

it wasn’t a secret that you and quinn hughes didn’t get along. it was quiet obvious to anyone who was in the same room as you two for even a few seconds.

with your mom being best friends with ellen- quinn’s mother- you spent most your time with the hughes family. this wasn’t something that bothered you. after meeting luke and jack, you immediately clicked. they were both like little brothers / best friends to you. however, you couldn’t say the same for the eldest hughes brother.

you weren’t sure what you did to annoy or upset quinn, but you do know the first time meeting him, he grew a deep disliking to you. most of your memories with quinn consisted of excessive teasing. for example, one of your favorite things to do at the hughes’ lake house was to tan. quinn quickly ruined that however after dumping a bucket of ice cold water on you while you tanned outside.

years, and years passed, and quinn’s disliking to you only grew deeper. he didn’t even tease you anymore, he just stopped paying attention to you in all. you didn’t know why it upset you so much, but it did. you’d spent countless nights crying yourself to sleep over an asshole who literally didn’t even acknowledge your existence.

quinn didn’t quite understand why he did this to you. the first time he saw you, he’d felt feelings he never had before. you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. but quinn hughes didn’t show any emotion. he was a closed book. so, his only way to avoid confrontation with his emotions was so teach himself to hate you. thus where the hatred started.

even this wasn’t enough for quinn, though. he thought if he insulted and teased you enough, he’d make himself believe the things he’d been saying to you were actually true. but it only made him fall in love with you more. he’d spend countless nights obsessing over you, wondering what type of spell you put on him that made him feel this way.

quinn knew what he had to do. he had to just make himself forget everything about you. which after further examination was impossible- without some sort of head trauma. therefore, his only other option was to completely ignore you. the less he’d engaged with you, the less he’d like you.

what confused you now was the fact that quinn hughes- the same quinn hughes who was your sworn enemy- was laying sprawled out across your bed, begging you to be his date to a party his family was throwing.

“is this some sort of prank?” you ask dumbfound.

“i really wish it was.” he huffs out. “but it’s not.”

were you in some alternate universe or something?

“ok,” you ask in disbelief. “explain what you want me to do again, please?”

“oh my fucking god.” he groans, shaking his body dramatically. “i need you to act like my girlfriend so my family can stop bugging me about bringing someone to this stupid party.”

“i just don’t understand it.” you laugh out sarcastically.

“what don’t you understand?” he runs this hands through his hair in frustration. “you don’t have to have to like me. you just need to pretend you do.”

“why you wouldn’t just ask anyone else is what i don’t understand.” you throw your hands up as if it wasn’t obvious. “i mean you, quinn hughes, could get anyone to gladly go to that event with you. i mean girls would beg, and beg to fake being your girlfriend… and you choose me? someone who would rather stab her eyeballs out than be seen with you.”

“first off, you are such a liar. it’s a privilege to be seen with me.” he starts off smug and cocky as ever. “second, yeah i think i know anyone else would gladly go with me. when i told jack he had like ten girls that were fighting to go with me.”

“and this is relevant because?” you say in an annoyed tone.

was he trying to make you jealous?

honestly, quinn himself didn’t know the answer to that one, but if he was, it was definitely working.

“listen, y/n.” he sits up on your bed. “i know you. our families have been best friends since forever. you are close with my mom, dad, jack, and luke. my entire family.” he counts on his fingers to get his point across. “what i’m trying to say is my family loves you. if i come there with some random girl, i’m going to have to go through the grueling process of introducing her to everyone and all that shit. with you i don’t have to do that.”

you take a moment to actual consider doing this for him. “what’s in it for me?”

“both our families won’t try to make us like each other anymore.” he reasons.

“fine.” your voice is barely above a whisper as you respond. the second quinn hears your response, he’s jumping with joy. a toothy grin takes over his face as he’s yelling out ‘thank you’s’ and other endearments.

“calm down over there.” a big smile takes over your face as you witness a side of quinn you’ve never seen before.

“sorry,” his cheeks flush red. “i’ll pick you up around 5pm tomorrow because it takes an hour to get there and it starts around 6.”

“i can’t believe i’m saying this,” you shake your head, looking up at the sky. “but, alright.”

quinn bids one last farewell and thank you before exiting your apartment.

**

5pm the next day roles around a lot quicker than you expected. your currently sitting in front of your vanity mirror. while fixing your lipstick, you hear a knock on your door. nervously, you put the small plastic tube of lipstick down and walk towards the door.

on the other side of the door awaits a nervous and eager quinn. he wipes his palms on his black dress pants, nervous how he’s going to react when he sees you.

you’d think from the amount of times quinn has seen you dressed up, he’d get used to it. but he never did. every time he sees you in a small, tight, fancy dress, his palms start to sweat and he can barely form a coherent sentence. of course you two never talked enough for you to actually notice your affect on him.

opening the door slowly, quinn comes into your view. he looks amazing. he’s wearing his signature black suit- not caring enough to buy a new one- and his hair is slightly messy. you could barely say the words ‘come in’, shocked at his gorgeous appearance.

quinn’s reaction wasn’t much different. the second you opened the door, his eyes landed on the navy blue mini-dress that dangerously hugged your curves. his throat went dry as he scanned up and down your body. the dress showed just a little bit of cleavage, not enough to be over the top, but just enough to make quinn want to pant like a dog. the material stopped at your mid thigh, exposing your whole leg. god, quinn was practically drooling just seeing this shade of blue on you.

“uh, come in.” you blink a few times, bringing yourself back to reality.

quinn shallows nervously, biting the inside of his cheek and nodding.

“i’m just finishing up my makeup, but i won’t take to long.” you awkwardly smile.

in response, quinn mumbles a quiet ‘ok’ and just nods his head. he was never much of a talker, so you just brushed it off as post party nerves.

with you exiting the room, quinn is left alone in your living room. he slowly wanders around the room, letting his fingertips brush against your fabric couch. different photos that decorated the walls and tables of your apartment catch his eye. he smiles to himself as he picks up a photo of you and emily- your best friend. you must’ve been around 13 or 14 because you and emily both wear the goofiest smile, showing off your different color braces. he lets out a small chuckle. even in your awkward teen phase, quinn was still head over heels for you.

placing down the small frame, he moves onto a different photo. you’re older in this photo. he guesses around 17 to 18. it also appears to be prom night. standing in the middle of a large group of friends, you beam with happiness. quinn vividly remembers this night. something that seemed to slip his memory was the boy standing a little too close to you. his jaw began to clench at the photo in front of him. the blonde boy’s hands were wrapped around your body. your face was flushed as you leaned back against the tall boy’s frame. it’s honestly surprising quinn didn’t whip the framed photo across the room in a jealousy rage.

“quinn?” you call out from behind him.

he quickly places the photo down, turning around to face you.

“are you ready?” he asks, pushing the jealous thoughts in the back of his head.

you noticed his sudden tense figure, confused at what he had just seen, but you just nodded.

leaving your apartment, quinn runs up to the car, opening the passenger door. he wasn’t really sure why he did it, but he made a mental note to do it more because it made you smile.

**

the car ride over was short. you both took the time to make a believable story for how you and quinn went from enemies to lovers miraculously. the story you agreed on was that you both realized that you never hated each other. you were both actually in love, but didn’t want to admit it. that story hit a little too close to home for both of you.

arriving at the hughes’ lake house, the nerves were really starting to set in. once again, quinn ran around the car, opening the passenger door for you and helping you out. the little subconscious movement gave you butterflies in your stomach and a familiar pink blush to your cheeks.

the walk up to the house seemed like forever. neither of you were in a rush to walk into the party. walking up the brick steps, quinn slips his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze and finally opening the door.

as you and quinn walk hand in hand to the party, everyone’s attention seems to be shifted over to you. you both get sent confused looks and a whole lot of furrowed brows, but quinn pushes through the crowd ignoring them. quinn notices jack, luke, ellen, and jim all standing together and makes his way over to them.

“hey!” you awkwardly yell out.

first, it’s ellen and jim. they’re expressions fall a bit, shocked by the scene in front of them, but they’re quick to pick them back up.

then, it’s jack and luke. jack doesn’t even seem phased as he goes in to dap up his older brother. same with luke. he just stands there with a drink in hand, smirking.

“hi sweetie!” ellen greets us, coming in to give you a tight hug. “i’m glad you could both make it.”

“we’d never miss a hughes’ party!” you beam.

“well i’m glad you two could both come, but i must say i’m a bit surprised to see you here together.” jim is the next to speak up. he mirrors ellen’s greeting by bringing me in a hug.

“yeah, we are too.” quinn blushes, looking at your proudly. the look he gives you could’ve made you faint right there and then, but you keep composure.

the rest of the night consisted of a lot of explaining. a lot of explaining. almost everyone there was confused as of how this happened based on your history, but you and quinn sold the story of your ‘relationship’.

as quinn pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex, you don’t want to night to end. being this close to quinn tonight really healed your inner child. you got to be with him romantically for two hours. it definitely was enough to make you forget about the past heartbreak he’s caused you.

“quinn,” you say softly.

“yes, love?” his use of the pet name sends adrenaline through your veins.

“what are we going to tell everyone tomorrow?”

the question had been the elephant in the room the entire night. you both had been avoiding it. not wanting this daydream to end.

“i guess that we broke up.” he answers unsurely, rubbing the back of his neck.

“oh, ok.” you mumble. “thank you for tonight. i had fun.”

“thank you for pretending to like me for tonight.” he says, nervously laughing. you fake a little chuckle, knowing what he said isn’t totally accurate.

silence fills the car as you two admire each other. your body is turned towards quinn as his hands rest on the steering wheel.

“i wasn’t pretending.” your words are barely above a whisper, not really intending for quinn to hear, but he does.

“what?” he asks, unsure if he heard you correctly. his mouth is hanging slightly open and his eyes are wide.

“i wasn’t pretending to like you, quinn.” you respond once again. this time you are more confident in your words.

hearing the words again makes quinn fall back in his seat. he looks up to the ceiling of the car in disbelief. ‘was this some prank?’ was all he could think because it didn’t seem real that the girl he’s been in love with since he was a kid was telling him that she liked him back.

“are you serious?” he asks a little harsher than he means to. his tone of voice startles you, causing tears to swell in your eyes.

“um,” you try to hold back the sobs, but once the tears begin to fall, the sobs spill out not long after.

you couldn’t believe you let your guard down like that. he might’ve been acting nice, but he’s still quinn hughes. once an asshole, always an asshole.

“oh no, baby.” quinn coos, wrapping his arms around you. “don’t cry. i didn’t mean it like that.”

“then what did you fucking mean it like?!” you cry out, looking at him through tears.

“i- uh,” he can’t find the words he wants to say.

“save it. i don’t want to hear your excuse.” you mutter. you pull yourself out of his hold, throwing the car door open and stepping out.

the second you exit the car, droplets of rain hit your body, but you don’t care. you storm towards your apartment building, despite hearing the car door shut.

“y/n!” quinn calls out, grabbing your wrist and causing you to spin around suddenly.

“leave me alone.” you growl. your face is painted with aggressive features. your jaw is clenched, eyes dark, and you’re sending quinn a glare that could burn holes in his head.

“just listen to me!” his voice drips of desperation as he practically begs.

you don’t respond, allowing him to continue.

“i really, really like you.” he starts off. “i’m not good with expressing my feelings as you can tell, but i’ve liked you since we met.”

“stop lying to make me feel better. you hated me when we met.” you blurt out, not buying what he was giving you.

“i didn’t, thought! i only acted like i hated you because i didn’t know how to confront the fact that i was in love with you.”

your gaze softens at his confession, still staying silent, allowing him to further continue. you both ignore the rain pelleting against your skin.

“dammit, y/n, i’m totally whipped over you. haven’t you seen that?” he moved his grip from your wrist, to your hand- holding it tightly.

“no,” you whisper.

“your just so gorgeous it’s not fair, and i’ve never felt that way about anyone else. i mean look at you in this dress right now. you are absolutely stunning inside and out. how was i not supposed to fall in love with you?”

“quinn,” you interrupt him. “kiss me.”

he doesn’t waste anytime, smashing his lips against yours. the kiss is filled with passion and pent up frustration. your fingers tangle in his wet hair while his hands find your waist.

breathless, you pull away from the kiss. the rains starts to come down a little harder, ruining your dress clothes, but neither of you seem too fazed.

“you don’t know how long i’ve waited to do that for.” he admits, smiling cheekily.

“you don’t know either.” you attempt to bite back a wide grin, but you fail miserably.

looking up at the sky, and then your soaking wet clothes, quinn laughs.

“we really just had a hallmark movie type moment.” he jokes, wrapping his arms around you.

“i guess so.” you giggled, leaning into quinn’s hold. “let’s go inside.”

[mrs-monaghan]

Hi ☺️ you make me happy

Just read your post of Jungkook being the best boyfriend. Can you please make the same for Jimin,,,,?))

Absolutely. It would be my pleasure

Lost diamond is talking about this post.

We can start with a moment I've never seen until 2day....

But we already knew this yes? It's not the first time JK has said Jimin treats him the most. Even during one of the unfortunate moments when JK rated Jimin last, the latter was sure to remind him that he's the one who spends on him the most. So Jimin has always been generous with his baby since the very beginning. Which is why our next moment should come as no surprise.

-Jimin travelling across the world in 2019 for JK's birthday and then doing so again in 2023 for JK's solo debute. Anything for the love of his life it seems. #allthefeels 🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍

Next I just wanna bring this back real quick

(Thanks @chicknbunny13 )

It is not an underrated moment by any means whatsoever. In fact you will see this clip every few weeks on twitter on your timeline. Jikookers love this moment. But, we mostly talk about Jimin feeding JK which it's fine. Really. Its sweet and really nice to see. But all members feed eo it ain't a big deal. So what I like to talk about is what happens before Jimin feeds JK.

JK wants pizza. He stands, looks around, they've ran out so he sits back down. He glances at Jimin's one, but its whatever, pizza is finished. But here's the part I like; Jimin without even looking at JK, just knows what he wants and thats when he feeds him a bite from his own. So either a) He was watching JK on his periphery, or b) He is just that in tune with his boyfriend. I'm going with the latter coz it ain't the first time he's come through for JK even without him asking. That's what sets the moment apart from all the other times members have fed eo.

Next moment that proves how much Jimin loves JK applies to both since it also involves a whipped JK. Analysis time guys. 💃🏾💃🏾💃🏾

This is so fun guys I highly recommend watching it

I went there for this one moment coz I'm a big fan. BTS countdown Jikookery:

JK is the king

and other members are supposed to go appeal to him so he can choose one of them. Jimin of course is very eager

He was adorable saying that. He is calling himself hyung but he's totally baby in that moment 🤭🤭 Suga starts singing this one song and Jimin is the loudest shout-singing how crazy he is for JK

Wbk 💅🏾😏

He leaves all other members in the dust, in his rush to get to his JK. Eager much? 🤣🤣

While waiting JK closed his eyes and looked so blissful. I didn't fully understand why he was in this state

Or why editors put a heart there 😂 so I chose to read that as him praying and hoping his baby gets to him first 😌😌

Since Jimin took off before the others, of course he arrives first

So now JK has 3 options; suga, jimin or rm

Suga makes his case

Jimin wants to make his case with this one thing and JK is ready and waiting

But Jimin only gets to say one word:

Before Suga tramples all over his pitch

So in the end Jimin doesn't even make his case 🤭

RM then makes his case by way of poem

And now its time for the King to pick his partner

Remember Namgi both had chances to appeal to JK and why he should choose them. While Jimin essentially said nothing. So.... the king makes his choice.

But of course 😌😌😌

Editors with the hearts thou 🤭🤭

Jimin was really happy that JK chose him. 🥺🥺 However, anyone who really pays attention to JK during BTS games could have predicted who he would choose 🤭🤭 This is definitely a whipped JK moment seeing as Jimin won unfairly. Definitely some boyfriend privilege involved here. He he heee.

Members play the game and Jikook proceed to win

At some point JK raps and Jimin praises him immediately

If you've ever noticed Jimin praises JK ALOT. I would say he praises JK the most. He is always telling us how good JK is, how talented, how he's good he is at everything. Even though we already know. Jimin never hesitates to praise JK and I for one love to see it. Most recent being the flying yoga episode when first thing he said was how good JK was gonna be at it

Even though we all know he was the king of said flying yoga. Jimin seems to be extremely proud of JK's talents and prowess. Here we saw him drooling over JK bungee jumping so yeah... he definitely likes that JK is so good. Jimin has always been super proud to have JK as his boyfriend. Its a shame antis don't care to see it.

Another thing that shows how much Jimin loves JK, is always being there for him when he needs comfort

What i love about this moment is that Jimin thought JK was puking when he ran over. And yet the first thing he does is grab JK's face to check on him. Vomit be dammed 🥺🥺🥺

Jimin is always there for the members when they need comfort. Yes. But I love love love how soft he's always been with JK. Remember during summer package when JK wrote a letter for Army and then got emotional? I love how Jimin wrote a poem for him after

"My Jungkook" he said 😭😭😭😭😭

And we haven't even talked about how Jimin has always rubbed the back of JK's neck since time immemorial.

When JK is in distress, when he makes a mistake, when the rest laugh at him, when he's confused, when the others talk over him and introvert JK can't get a word in. Jimin is always there to rub the back of his head to make him feel better since satellite Jikook are always next to eo.

Emotionally supportive Jimin is a huge dynamic in their rlship

That last one brings us to our last point since I've ran out of image space; Protective Jimin that one time Suga did the thing. They were reacting to that last concert and JK who as we all know cries the most was being comforted by Jimin. Once again.

Jin is the one who pointed out that JK was crying.

immediately Suga was like;

Yeah... Jimin wasn't having it. He was like; bro you'd better shut tf up.

Pointed a finger at Suga, his hyung and everything. Suga picks on Jimin all the time. It's the most popular Yoonmin dynamic. And usually Jimin doesn't care. But he drew the line at Suga picking on his bae. 🤭🤭🤭 I love this moment sm!!! He seriously wasn't having it and that was so hot of him 🥵🥵

Look at his adorable worried face 🥺🥺 caught JK right on time too.

These moments are endless really, but i will stop here since there's no room for more imagery. But Jimin really is the best boyfriend and you can tell by JK's loyalty and how JK has always made Jimin his priority. He wouldn't do that, wouldn't be so head over heels if Jimin didn't treat him like a king.

Long live Jikook ✊🏽

[ghostchems]

if you're taking nsfw drabble requests bghjdsl um. throws terzo/fem reader cockwarming in here

nsfw! mdni! about 1k words. ehhhh we got some confessional cockwarming!!

You’re not sure why you’re the one who’s being punished — but you know better than to argue with Papa. In fact, this predicament you’ve found yourself in is *salacious,* nestled underneath his chasuble between his knees with his velvety cock in your mouth. You focus on staying completely still though your knees are starting to grow sore from kneeling for so long. Terzo wants you here for the entirety of confession, until every last sibling has had their time to share their sins with him. It’s been infuriating to hear him coo over every single one of them, to have them giggle and flirt back through the partition. Then, you start to remember where you are and what you’re doing. The tension in your body shifts down to your core, your muscles tightening in your lower abdomen, thighs squeezing.

“I’ve fantasized about being with you, Papa. You bring out the most delicious lust in me.” The breathy voice from other other side of the partition sends a current through you as Terzo’s cock twitches with interest. His hands slithers down his robes, sharp nails bunching the fabric above his thighs. You stifle a groan and try to loosen your jaw to accommodate the way he blossoms in your mouth.

“It is a privilege to inspire such thoughts in His name.” He answers cooly, dragging his robes until you’re free from beneath them. Your eyes flicker up to meet his, despite his pupils being blown and his teeth worrying his bottom lip his expression screams behave. “Go on, tesoro.”

“I think about you during Black Mass. How your voice carries through to the tiniest corner of the sanctuary, how your robe flows with such power.” They speak quicker now, their voice a mere whisper. Your cheeks start to burn. It dawns on you how personal these thoughts are and how you’re intruding on this moment. Before you’re able to think any further, Terzo’s fingers weave into your hair, nails scratching at your scalp. You breathe carefully out of your nose and drag your tongue along his underside, paying extra attention to the spot just below the head. His thighs flex and he sucks in a silent breath, exhaling with an interested hum, almost teasing the sibling to keep going. All while his eyes are locked on you.

“You choose me to assist you in your invocation. I drop my cloak and expose myself to you on the altar.” Husky whispers through the partition. Terzo uses his knees to squeeze your body between his legs to keep you still. You’re stuck, all encompassed by him, nothing but him. He runs his fingers across your scalp with a tender touch. “You use your hands to please me in His Name, on display for the congregation to see.”

“A ritual of passion, eh? I don’t believe we’ve had one of those since Primo.” He’s back to playing Papa and the sibling offers a giggle. “Perhaps I’ll bring this up in our next clergy meeting — now that I know I’ll have a volunteer.” More laughter. “Thank you for your confession, caro. I look forward to hearing more from you. And, ah, would you mind telling those waiting I’m finished for the evening? Grazie.” The sibling giggles some more and utters a quiet goodbye.

They leave, the door clicking shut behind them. Terzo stays completely still other than his throbbing cock on your tongue. The both of you listen closely to their receding footsteps, then some murmurs and louder chatter. As soon as the volume in the room rises he guides your head back down his cock with a desperate groan. You sink all the way down his length, nose meeting his neatly trimmed pubic hairs. His heady, salty taste fills your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat and you utter a low hum as you swallow around him. Terzo melts into his chair with a deep growl, spreading his legs further for you, finally able to enjoy himself.

“You are… ah, so good for your papa. Brava ragazza.” He rasps and tightens his grip on your hair. Your tongue swirls around his length and you bob your head at a more steady pace, one hand pressed to his thigh while you curl your other fingers around his base. Terzo moans, running a hand over his face and arching his back with a huff. “I love the way you look with my cock in your mouth. Bravissima.” You whine and suck a sharp breath in through your nose, jolts of arousal spreading through you. You start to stroke his cock in time with each bob of your head, dark eyes flitting up to meet his. He hisses and bares his teeth, hips giving one last jerk as he spills down your throat.

You sit back on your knees and use one of your sleeves to wipe your swollen, wet lips. Terzo’s gaze is hazy but he never looks away from you, a sleepy smile plastered across his face as he quietly catches his breath. He’s wrecked — his pants still around his ankles, robes bunched at his hip and hair tousled — and you’ve never seen him look so beautiful.

“Vieni qui.” Terzo reaches a gloved hand out to you and you take it, wobbling to your feet. His arm sweeps underneath your ass, pulling you into his lap. Your heart pounds in your ears, feeling equal parts anxious and excited — he’s never shown such affection after. Your chest presses to his, chin resting on his shoulder as he curls his arms around you. “I like being with you, tesoro. I wouldn’t want anyone else in here with me.” A confession. Much different than the usual teasing and poking. You lift your head just as his hand cradles your cheek, stroking it with his thumb but still gives you a small prick with the tip of his nail.

He gives you a warm smile and you feel alive.

send me a request!

[issdisgrace]

Can I please have Thomas Hewitt x male reader where the reader is also serial killer?(he was a serial killer before he met Thomas)

🔪

MOVED AWAY

WARNINGS: Talks of bullying. use of the f slur, murder

I met Thomas Brown Hewitt when I started working at the local slaughterhouse. He was a big quiet guy that wore a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face. Because of said mask and his quiet nature, he was frequently made fun of, called names, and made the butt of many jokes. But Thomas was a hard worker. He worked harder than any of the low lives that made fun of him. He was always the first one there and the last one to leave. I admired him from a fair for a while until one day the harassing was just so bad and Thomas was just taking it. It had started since those low lives arrived for work today, and now it was well into the afternoon. It was getting on my last nerve and when they started calling him an inbred faggot, something inside of me snapped. I finally said something and let’s just say some words were exchanged and coupled with the fact Ii was similar in height and stature as Thomas, they backed away, clearly not brave enough to face me like true men.

 From then on, me and Thomas started to become friends and good ones at that. He was much smarter than they had given him credit for. And as I grew to know Thomas more, that burning desire that got me here in this shit town was back again. The only reason why I was in this town in the first place was because my little hobby was discovered, but I manage to avoid police and ended up here. The law didn’t take too kindly to people like me, anyway I guess they just don’t enjoy ridding the earth of scum. God where those people that said all those things to Thomas scum. A couple of them had already “moved away.” But there were still some to go, like David Sinclair, one of the biggest piece of shit that made fun of poor Thomas. He “moved away” a yesterday.

Now with every mostly quiet. Me and Thomas were left in peace for the most part. Our relationship was flourishing. It was nice, so nice that today I asked Thomas if he would like to have dinner with me tomorrow as it was both of our day off. He nodded, and we made it a date. It was around 5 when I started getting dinner ready nothing to fancy, just some steak and potatoes. It was around 5:30 when Thomas arrived. He looked nice. You could tell he cleaned up, and he cleaned up nicely. No doubt by his mother??? Luda May that I have been told much about but yet to get the privilege of meeting. I let him in and we made small talk while we ate.

It was halfway through dinner when a thud is heard, then followed by David bolting out of the room, he moved to down the hallway towards the front door. I quickly get up, not paying attention to Thomas any more, grab one of the steak knives and chase after him. Stabbing him in the back before he was even able to make it off the porch. He screamed as I dragged the knife down his back, cutting him open. I got off of him as he started to bleed to death. I sighed as I stood. This was definitely not how I expected my night to go. I look back to the door way there Thomas standing there watch his eyes flicker from David to me.

“Look, I can explain. Trust me.”

The conversation that followed was quiet, along with one. Starting with why I moved to the town in the first place and my hobby. Then to why David was well kidnapped and now dead to the others that “moved away.” It was hard to tell if Thomas was flattered or not, but he didn’t seem bothered by it at all. Not by the murders and, least of all, not bothered by my feelings for him. It was nice to have confirmation that he felt the same way I do about him. It was refreshing, to say the least. I could tell that this would be the starting of a very long relationship. 

[urangelsiren]

The Benefits of Pretty Priviledge

While many try to convince us that things such as pretty privilege aren't real and don't have any actual benefits, in the society we live in today that is far from the truth. As someone who is considered conventionally "unattractive" to society, I have seen time and time again the ways pretty privilege has benefitted any and everyone that may or may not be conscious of having it. Here are a few things that I've noticed it consist of:

People will automatically treat you way better than if your ugly. It's sad but it's the truth and unfourtanetly people will just be nicer to things that are overall visually more pleasing.

You're valued way more when you're pretty. Is it considered a bit superficial and vain...well yes. After all some of those tik toks aren't lying when they say "the downside of being pretty is that you're always lusted over, never loved" and they aren't entirely wrong. When you're pretty you're automatically seen as some form of sex symbol in some way.

Doors will open much easier for you than if you're ugly. Now yes im aware hardwork is important too but think of a company that's trying to market itself as the most high end company there is. Do you really think they're gonna put just anybody on the advertisements? 9/10 that woman with the long hair and clear skin with a fit body and manicured nails is definitely getting hired before you and that's even if they have any skills. (But if you're pretty with a BRAIN that's a bonus but probably the most dangerous combo ever..I'll make a post on this later)

You will in fact be the center of attention. Your name will be said in places before you even walk in the door. This is because when you're pretty, many and I do mean many will most definitely make assumptions about you. Now whether they're good or bad doesn't matter because at the end of the day, not many would actually say it to your face to begin with (the bad stuff anyway) and second you will realize how insecure a lot of people are when it comes to you through their projection simply because they've already made an assumption about you before even getting to know you. But it's your own beauty that influences that.

People will automatically assume you're confident. You know the saying fake it til you make it? Yea..I've met some very pretty people in my life and just like any other human being they have insecurities of their own you wouldn't even imagine they'd be insecure about. However no one could think something like that because well..you're pretty.

While I don't wanna make this male centered...yall know them movie scenes where a pretty girl bats her little eyelashes and suddenly guys are running to pay for her stuff, be used as a rug for a wet puddle, etc. Some of those aren't exaggeration at all. You would be surprised what someone will do for a pretty girl. I literally saw a tik tok of a girl who got out of being with the cops deadass because she had pretty feet...like literally the cop was slipping over his words and blushing like?? Yea so when you look good be prepared cuz the better you look the further lengths people will go for u.

You will attract people in higher positions. Now this is the part where if you're pretty, boundaries and standards are highly important because if you're pretty you will definitely attract anyone and that includes some people who will put on a facade but are actually terrible asf and dusty. However, when u play cards right you will definitely attract someone like a CEO or millionaire or you'll just attract really good connections and may have better chances at networking.

You have a better chance of being protected vs if you're ugly. Put the guns down but that is a very harsh truth, some people will in fact choose that pretty girl over you in a life or death situation. When you're pretty people can tend to get a little stupid and coo coo for coco puffs. They're not thinking about the situation in itself but more so being known as the person who saved the pretty girl (it sounds far fetched but it really is true).

[gavisuntiedboot]

Gavi Fluff Alphabet

The long awaited and highly requested. I can't bring myself to write smut rn tbh. Like my head is pounding and I'm about to vom. So sexy. Please keep expectations in the dirt so I can exceed them with my sleepy writing.

~~~

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

I don't think Pablo is the type to show much affection in public

He's still quite young and shy, not eager to be teased in person or online about PDA

I think affection in public would be limited to hand-holding, maybe a side hug

Even the gentlemen stuff would escape him in an effort not to come across too sappy.

Like he'll hold your bags, but you're getting your own doors

In private though? Man is a teddy bear

Attached to you

Always wants to be touching you in some way - sitting too close, laying on your lap, anything

Will actually pout if he's not given kisses and affection hourly

b = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend?)

Scary dog privileges but as a person

Would always be FaceTiming you just to have your presence there in the background

Sends you at least 20 tiktoks a day because they remind him of you

Always pays when y'all are out

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

Absolutely necessary

Actually so touch starved that he might die without some quality time from you

Started out with you wrapping yourself around his shoulders to get his attention (since he's confirmed always on his phone)

Now you'll be minding your business and feel him wrap his arms around you

Like to be the baby, laying on top of you, getting his hair played with

Prefers when neither of you have a proper shirt on so the two of you can share body heat

Must be a separate activity from sleeping - Gavi get's too hot and restless in his sleep to cuddle

Age regression - literally a little puppy when he’s in your arms, responding in nods and whimpers

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they around the house?)

Pablo cannot imagine settling down right now

He loves his youth and his job and his freedom

But looking at you in his house, laying on his couch or waking up next to him, he thinks he could get used to this

Quite lazy around the house tbh

Regular teenage boy; does the bare minimum to not be living in filth

Very good about one thing: dishes.

Fun fact: gavi seems like the type to be afraid of cockroaches and other critters, so he’s amazing at doing everything to prevent them from entering his house

Baby steps towards domesticity: letting you stay over, then buying you a toothbrush, then a drawer, then a key to the front door

e = ending (if they had to break up with their s/o, how would they do it?)

Pablo is not good at feelings or confrontation

So if he ever needed to break up with a girl, he would do it indirectly

Probably over text or through a phone call, because he doesn’t know how to handle heartbreak

If it was in person, he would do it in public, buying you a meal or coffee before breaking the news

He would always repeat how it’s a problem with him, how he needed to figure himself out, and how there was no blame on you

Getaway car waiting outside

f = fiancé (how would they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

Rather terrifying prospect for pablito

Wants to have his own accomplishments in his career before he looks to lock you down

Type to give you a promise ring on a necklace

“Princesa, im going to be the best someday, and you deserve nothing but the best. So wait for me until I get there?”

Not the type to do long engagements - as long as it takes to plan the wedding and that’s all

Once he proposes, he wants you to be his as soon as possible - Mrs. Gavira can’t come soon enough

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically? Not so gentle

Forgets that he’s gone through a bulk period and he now has a lot of muscle

Still play fights like he’s a scrawny 14 year old, occasionally being too harsh

Everything is a little too intense but that’s what makes it Gavi

His hugs are a little tight on your ribs, his grip restricting the blood flow to your hand slightly

But you love it all the same because it’s him

Emotionally tho? My man is a marshmallow over an open flame

Still young and rather volatile - emotions are right on the surface

His happiness is immediate and overflowing, radiating even

But when he’s sad or anxious? His whole being changes

Sad eyes, dropped shoulders, crossed arms - be was a different person

Tries to be as gentle as possible with your feelings because he didn’t want to lose you or compromise what y’all have

Also wants to establish a dynamic where you two are gentle with each other

Because otherwise he’ll break down and close off from you entirely

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

Any Gavi girl knows what I’m about to say

Man loves hugs

Adores them

Occur every time he sees you

What type of hug?? Girl

You know the one

One arm around the waist, securing you to his chest

The other around your head, bringing you in gently to rest beneath his chin

And of course it’s couple with that little smooth on the side of the head

For hello, good bye, good luck, and I L*** Y**, this was his delivery message of choice

Sometimes Pablo will pull you in for long hugs where he can just breathe you in, enjoying the feeling of you in his arms

Always ended with a sweet kiss on the top of your forehead, eyes meeting yours to describe what you should call your situation

i = i love you (how fast do they say the L-word?)

Okay so someone please educate me - is saying I love you like a big moment in other cultures?

Like I’m Arab, and saying بحبك for the first time is not a huge thing

So I think that would influence when he says it out loud

But I think Pablo would take a while to realize that he’s in love

He’s young and doesn’t really understand the feeling of being in love with someone else

I think it would take a good 6-8 months before he would be able to look at you and think “wow. So this is what being in love feels like.”

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they're jealous?)

Controversial opinion: I don’t think Gavi would be the type to get jealous quickly

I know I know but before you get the pitchforks lemme explain

Everyone talks about how Gavi doesn’t get nervous or really doubt himself

He knows he’s hot shit okay?

Both on the field and off, he’s confident in what he brings to the table

So when he gets a girl, he’s gonna be confident in that as well, knowing that he was able to pull her

He gets a kick watching guys flirt with you, because he knows that you’ll never give them the time of day

The only time he might get jealous is when you fawn over another man in front of him

Especially if it’s another footballer

He’s the type to pout and get quiet, scowling at the thought of you all giddy about someone else

Would pull you onto his lap and ask you in a soft voice

“You’re happy with me right?”

Just needs a little bit of reassurance that he’s doing everything in his power to be the best for you

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss their partner? where do they like to be kissed?)

Not to be predictable, but I think he would love kissing you on the neck and the forehead

Like he seems like the type to give you affectionate kisses on the cheek and stuff rather than kissing on the lips all the time

The type to kiss the back of your hand, the top of your head, your bare shoulder

Just a thousand little pecks everywhere

Will grab your face with both hands and give you a fat kiss when he’s feeling excited

otherwise, he’s quite gentle in the way he kisses you

Soft lips moving against yours slowly, takes a while to warm up to intense making out (in the session not overall - hes 18 )

Likes to be kissed on cheek and on the neck

Loves when you sit on his lap and kiss him deeply

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

You’d think he’d not be great with kids because he’s young and kind of aggressive

But you and me both have seen the videos of him in the hospital

So sweet and gentle with the young ones

Loves to pick them up and put them on his shoulders

Very patient with little kid nonsense

Can’t help but think about having his own kids one day

Tells you off handedly that’s he’s excited to be a father one day

“You think our kids will be good at football?”

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

Hectic

Very energetic in the morning on account of having training so early

Always practically jumping out of bed ready to go

Wakes you up by squeezing you tightly and kissing all over your face

Makes sure you eat in the morning no matter how much you object

n = nights (how are nights spent with them?)

On weekdays, Pablo is fucking tired

Comes home ready to pass the fuck out from training

Lots of eating dinner on the couch and lazy nights

Ready to go to bed by like 10pm

Gets very childish and cranky when he’s tired - lots of pouting and whining to go to sleep

On weekends, he’s a little more enthused

Ready to go out to a restaurant or club with you and have fun

Still keeps things within limits - no blacking out or throwing up

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves?)

A while y’all

Pablo is a great listener - loves to hear about you and your interests

But about himself? He’s not a fan

Gets too shy and nervous - thinks he’s boring or bothering you with details about his life

Stuff will slip here and there when he’s stressed, and he starts blushing immediately upon realizing he’s over shared

Starts warming up to you 3-4 months in, just with little tid bits about his family and early life

More likely to speak to you when you were cuddled up, playing with his hair, running your fingers up and down his arm

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

Be for real y’all

My man has little to no patience

Very short fuse

Was a major point of tension early in the relationship

Quick to anger, but also quick to calm down

Doesn’t dwell on things and it’s always ready to move on

Learning to be more calm and patient with you

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about their partner?)

Takes learning about you very seriously

Always super interested when you speak, completely taken by you

Makes notes in his phone about everything: your favorite flowers, dream vacation spots, and more

Interestingly enough, forgets super simple things about you, like your favorite color

r = remember (what is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

There were so many little domestic moments that Gavi loved experiencing with you

But the one moment he treasured the most with you was the first time you went to Sevilla with him

Your laughter, your energy, just lit up his hometown

He loved watching your interactions with his family and friends

You both were laying in bed in his parents’ house, just laying with you and being silly when you talked about how much you missed the beach

“The beach is only like an hour away. We can go tomorrow morning if you want.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, smiling from ear to ear

The following morning, you woke up to Gavi running around

He already had everything packed in the car

His newly licensed ass drove you to the beach, and you just played around like kids

You sat on the sand, laying on Pablo’s shoulder

“Pablo, this is the best day ever.”

He pushed your hair behind your ear and kissed you deeply

His heart physically swelled whenever he thought about that moment

s = security (how protective are they? would they like to be protected?)

Super protective of you when he feels like you could be hurt

Whenever you two were out at somewhere rowdy, he always had a hand on you

Ready to fight anybody that touched you

Honestly felt a little emasculated whenever you tried to protect him

Got irritated whenever you fussed over him and his injuries

Started to warm up to it after he got a cut on his face, liking you babying him and being so close to his face

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Initially, he wasn’t trying very hard

Just being a teenager really - simple dates and texting a lot

“Pablo, when are we going to go on a real date?”

The question threw him off immensely, causing him to consult his teammates about what classifies as a date

He realized he had been severely lacking in the effort department

Started trying harder - restaurants, cute picnics, thoughtful gifts

You had started thinking he had done something wrong and was trying to compensate

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Homie is a S L O B

Like does not pick up after himself at all

Not a problem until you start staying over at his place

He has to remove piles of clothes from the bed just for you two to sleep

He’s also always on his phone

Can’t put it down

Can get really annoying when you’re trying to talk to him and he’s staring at his screen

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

In the face, Gavi is not supper confident in his looks

He’s a little insecure that he still looks so young

Wants to look more mature

His body tho????

Yeah, homie knows he’s fine

FOINE

He’s worked hard on his physique, and so he’s confident in the fruits of his efforts

Loves sitting shirtless around the house

You catch him staring at himself in reflective surfaces

Would never say it out loud, but knows he’s got a body to drool over, and uses it to his advantage

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

I don’t think so

Gavi needs to play football to be complete

That’s the only thing I think he could lose that would make it feel like a piece of his soul was missing

You didn’t complete his world - you were a different world entirely

When you weren’t around, it just felt like he was stuck in a routine

x - xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

Pablo loves seeing you in Barça merch

He just thinks it’s the culmination of all his life coming together when he sees you in the blaugrana

You have a pair of Barça sweats that be especially loves

Literally so careless with all your clothes except your merch

Washes it per label instructions, never rips it off you - the whole nine

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

Hates people who are stuck up

Needs a girl to be down to earth - he’s not making that much money

Can’t deal with anyone uptight either - needs someone willing to just go with the flow

z = zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs?)

As mentioned previously, gets very hot in his sleep

Can’t cuddle or be too close because man will sweat and stay up all night

Has had a habit of kicking the blankets off since he was a kid

Had to adjust when you started staying over because you would be freezing and curled into a ball in the morning

Has the room super cold and sleeps basically naked when you’re there so he doesn’t get the urge to kick the sheets to the floor

~~

Guys I’m so sleeeeeepyyyyyyyyyy so hope your expectations were low. Also just realized that people schedule things to be posted. Like not everyone posts their fics the second they finish at crackhead hours like me. Oh well.

[virtualcarrot]

[KKIR] Pen on paper - Part 3

[Ao3] [Part 2 on tumblr]

When Masato’s finally considering setting them loose on more advanced material, a courrier interrupts his lesson.

Masato’s supremely unimpressed.

“Yes?” he snaps, hand lowering from the blackboard.

None in the room are really pleased with the delay. They’re about to be given access to a room of--carefully vetted and unrestricted--scrolls and the class is abuzz with the excitement of new knowledge. It’s thrilling. Or it will be, as soon as they can get back to it.

Faltering under the weight of a classful of unhappy eyes, the young woman at the door clears her throat.

“I have a missive from the Rokudaime of Konohagakure, to be delivered to one Umino Iruka.”

The blood drains from Iruka’s face. A formal missive. Few things sound more ominous. He hopes Naruto’s okay. He hopes Hinata’s okay. He hopes Boruto--Oh gods, did Hinata miscarry?

“-inappropriate,” Masato’s saying. “Official communication from the Hokage should go through the Mizukage’s office. This is a gross sign of distrust and secrecy.”

“Kakashi-san probably didn’t realize the diplomatic implications,” Iruka hears himself say, ears ringing from the adrenaline rush.

“And what does this Kakas--” Masato begins to say, rolling his eyes at the implication of incompetence. He cuts himself short, likely as he notices the actual name he’s repeating. “You mean, the Rokudaime? Hatake Kakashi himself?”

All eyes turn on Iruka, who blinks in incomprehension. Ryo elbows him under the table and mouths a silent ‘ san ’ like a kid whispering the cheat to a test, except with a wide-eyed look of utter dismay.

“Kakashi-sama,” Iruka rushes to amend. “I meant Kakashi-sama.”

Masato welcomes the correction with a sneer. “Regardless, Intelligence should read it first. Iruka-san is not a diplomat. There is no privilege.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Nobuko retorts out loud and with an exceedingly dismissive snort. “He’s an official envoy from Konoha. What kind of moron would interfere with mail from the Hokage himself?”

If looks could kill, Nobuko would be dead on sight. Since it doesn't, she weathers Masato’s glare with indifferent aplomb. In the doorway, the courier seems to be considering the disproportion between her own pay and the whole hassle.

Finally, Masato relents.

“Very well. But make sure to inform the Mizukage’s office.”

“Yeah, sure,” the courier says unconvincingly.

Iruka barely glances at her. He’s too busy tearing the envelope open.

He skims over the content, two single sided pages of Kakashi’s sharp and concise strokes, the writing of someone used to efficient writing both on the field and in the office.

Then he blinks. He gives the pages a slower perusal. As far as he can see, everything’s fine. It is, in fact, pretty much a letter telling him just that, and one after another the clenched muscles of his body begin to ease. 

By the board, Masato sniffs, radiating sarcasm. “May we continue the lesson, Iruka-sama?”

“Ah, yes, of course. Sorry.”

Iruka shakes himself and puts the letter away for later.

*

Dear Iruka-sensei,

It's come to my attention that you were worried about the effects of your absence. Be assured that Konoha still stands.

The mission desk is running smoothly. The newest clerks must have been suitably filled with fear of your retribution upon your return. As for the users, if any nurtured hope of slacking off on their reports out of your watch, they were quickly disabused.

I was able to meet with Hiroaki-kocho. He praised your work at the Academy and your positive influence on the teachers. We had an interesting conversation on how to tackle the old guard and draw them to new methods. I’m sure it's a topic you’ll have ample things to comment on.

(Incidentally, I was unaware that Hiroaki-kocho is such a connoisseur of spirits. The sake bottle was much lighter from his visit)

Naruto’s doing fine. It seems he's slowly coming to understand that the office has demands he can't simply talk his way out of. Just yesterday, he asked Shikamaru for further clarification on administrative procedures. The care of war orphans, I believe was the topic. I thought you'd want to know.

Hinata and Boruto are also well, as are Sakura and Sarada. Konohamaru remains promising. He will likely make jounin soon. If I forgot anyone you'd like to know about, please let me know.

I've also been made aware you might be under the impression that I oppose this enterprise. Understand that it is false.

Arm yourself with all the knowledge you want. If I'm lucky, you'll be kind enough to share it with me. After all, you'll soon be the one in charge of imparting it. You will be ready to be Headmaster well before Naruto takes the mantle from me.

Please take this letter as proof of my full support. I hope it finds you well.

Regards,

へのへのもへじ

*

“You okay?” a disembodied voice asks from on high.

Unable to look away from the words swimming on the paper, Iruka mumbles a vague acknowledgement.

From nir perch, Ryo has a clear line of sight of the meager furniture of their shared room, from the cramped closet to the other beds to the rickety table Iruka's using as a desk.

Ne peers over the railing of the top bunk bed. “I think you stopped breathing. Is it bad news?”

Iruka slowly lowers the letter, dizzy with longing. “No. No, it's… very much the opposite.”

“Are you sure? Or is it, like, secret?”

“He's fine, leave him be!” Nobuko yells from outside of the open sash window.

She’s sitting on the other side of the wall through core strength and chakra alone. They’re on the second floor. A hint of the smell of her cigarette wafts inside, carried by the smoke that the tori-based seal she summarily slapped on the raised pane is struggling to keep away. It’s the same she’d been using all of last week and it’s clearly losing power. Iruka will have to warn her. He doesn't mind it too much but Ryo tends to scrunch nir nose at the smell.

They weren’t all originally set to bunk together until Nobuko decided otherwise and bullied the original occupants into a switch. Although first disgruntled, the hostel owner opted to turn a blind eye. Likely, he measured the worth of arguing bed distribution against the effort it’d take, and came up with a negative result. He’s since been leaving them to their own devices, though not without pinched looks of judgment at their now mixed dormitory.

Thus far, the most debauchery they've indulged in is a late night game of koi-koi with the hanafuda Ryo provided. They drank a couple of cheap beers while playing, after which Toru blessed them with a taste from his personal stash of umeshu.

It tasted lovely but Kakashi would probably find it too sweet.

Iruka drops his face in his hands with a groan. Even his thoughts won’t give him respite.

“Shower’s free,” Toru announces, walking in with his damp towel thrown over his arm. “If you’re fast enough, it might still be when you get there.”

As if on a spring, Ryo scrambles into motion. Then ne stalls, one leg hanging over the precipice of the bunk bed. Iruka doesn’t have to see it to feel nir beseeching look.

He lowers his hands with a sigh and leans back to meet nir gaze. Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches Nobuko crushing her cigarette on the window sill and maneuvering to come inside. Her chakra control isn’t bad for a non-active operative but she’s clearly better skilled at sticking her back to the wall than shifting anchor points.

“I’m vice-principal of Konoha Academy,” Iruka reminds them. “I was worried about taking a leave. Kakashi-sama has been kind enough to keep me informed.”

Nobuko sucks her teeth. “Sama, is it now?” she mutters on her way to the trash can, where she drops the cooling cigarette butt.

Justifications crowd the tip of Iruka’s tongue. Kakashi insists on a lack of decorum, he wants to say. He’s never sought praise, he’s never sought fame, if anything he’s been haunted by it. Only his sense of duty keeps pushing him in the spotlight.

Kakashi’s down-to-earth. He takes pride in his work, because he takes pride in work well done and he takes pride in doing it well, but he’s not self-important. He doesn’t like being made to feel special. Kakashi, Iruka thinks, has been made to feel special too many times for too many wrong reasons over the years.

Kakashi favors teamwork. He values friendship. Probably, being called an equalizing honorific makes him feel less alone.

Iruka rubs the back of his neck with a wince and says none of it.

“Ah, about that. Slip of the tongue,”  is what he goes with. “I’ve known him before he was appointed. He was jounin-sensei to some of my students.”

It’s the most honest and the shallowest reply he feels safe to give.

He ignores Nobuko’s noncommittal scoff. Ryo has made nir way down the top bed and is staring at him with something strange in nir eyes, like ne’s seeing Iruka for the first time. It’s unnerving.

“I didn’t realize you were so close to the Hokage,” ne says and Iruka suddenly recognizes with a flare of embarrassment what the shine in nir eyes is: admiration.

The mere fact of knowing another person isn’t worthy of that much.

“I’m not. I just used to be a teacher, is all. Nothing much.”

By the closet door where he's hanging his towel off to dry, Toru tuts in disapproval.

“Nothing much?” he repeats, sounding genuinely upset. “You’re Vice-Principal of Konohagakure Academy. It’s unfair that you speak of your duties so lightly. That’s a lot of responsibility. I hope you take it seriously.”

Iruka doesn’t think there’ll be an age where he isn’t vulnerable to disapproval from an older, respected figure. That is likely why he doesn’t snap back over being scolded by what, all things considered, is very much still a near stranger.

In fact, Iruka ducks his head, admonished.

“Of course I do! I almost canceled this trip, I was so worried about leaving!”

At his words, Toru’s gaze turns considering. Then he smiles, satisfied. For a brief, grief-stricken second, Iruka wonders if the Sandaime would also be pleased with him. With who he’s become today.

“Your kage seems to think you do, anyway,” Toru grants lightly, packing away his toiletries. “To take the time to write to you. That's quite the honor, you know?”

Iruka does. He knows it all too much.

No matter how much Kakashi insists on informal terms of address, there’s nothing equal about them. 

*

The scroll Masato unrolls barely reaches the length of the table. It’s surprisingly short for the amount of power it radiates. In a slow succession of groups, the students are invited to crowd over to examine it.

Iruka’s group is among the last to reach it.

“Amazing work. See the lines here?” Toru says in a low voice, finger tracing over them from afar. The library assistant watches him eagle-eyed in case he comes into contact. “They drive the chain of triggers.”

Iruka peers over, squinting in interest. At the center of the scroll, Inu presides. Smaller characters circle it, disposed with elegant symmetry along what Iruka suspects to be cardinal points. Long, fluid strokes of ink tie them together, swirling back and forth from Inu and the other characters. The result is mesmerizing.

“This isn’t just a trigram, it’s a nodal seal,” he whispers. It’s not even on purpose. His throat has gone tight with awe.

“The crowning achievement of Kiri style sealing,” Masato confirms with a puff of his chest.

They spend the rest of the afternoon studying the strokes, trying to figure out the order they were drawn and whether the sequence of catalysts would follow the same path. While Toru and Nobuko are busy arguing opposing interpretations, Ryo keeps glancing up at Iruka.

He doesn’t know what ne expects from him. In spite of his origins, Iruka has no practice of Kiri technique. If anything, given the intuitive ease with which Ryo’s been picking it up, it’s nem that Iruka should be looking to for help, not the other way around. And he sure needs it. He’s been struggling.

After a moment, he stops scratching down notes with a sigh. “What is it?”

“Did you reply?” Ryo asks before adding, in the face of his confusion: “to your Hokage?”

Iruka crosses his arms, feeling a scowl darkening his face. “What’s your obsession with this?”

Undeterred, Ryo does an antsy windmill motion with nir hands. “You got a letter. From your Hokage! How can you be so cool about it? You think the Tsuchikage would write to me? I don’t think he even knows I exist!”

Iruka can’t help but smile, struck with the sweet relief that this isn’t about him. He remembers being young and desperate to prove himself. He remembers what it was to hope to be noticed.

 On the other side of the table, he catches sight of Nobuko and Toru’s looks of amused interest. Iruka rubs his chin in the appearance of thoughtfulness.

“Hm. But why would you want him to?”

Ryo falters with a frown of frustration. “I don’t know? It’d be cool? If the great kage himself acknowledged me?”

Iruka’s been so stuck feeling inadequate and inferior, these past days, that he forgot how much wider and bigger the world is than him. He completely missed Ryo’s insecurity. Ne’s younger, after all, nearly as young as Iruka was when he started teaching. He hadn’t realized just how much of a difference these ten years between them make. He hadn’t realized how much he, himself, has matured.

“Why do you need him to?” he prompts. “Will that make you stronger? Smarter?”

“Of course it won’t,” ne replies, upset to be misunderstood.

Iruka nods. “No, it won’t, because you’re already smart. You’re hardworking. You’re curious and sharp-minded. I see it. Toru-san and Nobuko-san see it. Sure, it’s not as fun to brag about than the Tsuchikage,” he adds, good-naturedly ignoring Ryo’s stammered disagreement, “but the Tsuchikage doesn’t know you. He’s not the one sharing a room with you. He isn’t fleecing you at cards. I’d say, we’re much better suited to give you accurate feedback. Better looking too,” he adds with a wink, just to break the ice.

Ryo flushes at that, and then flushes deeper when ne notices ne’s the focus of Toru and Nobuko’s attention.

Suppressing a smirk, Nobuko turns back to her notes with a carefree roll of her shoulders. “Eh, you’re alright. Less obnoxious than Toru, definitely.”

Following that, they resume their study of the seal, trying to identify usable patterns. After a while, Ryo lowers nir pencil.

“Does that mean you, like, know the Hokage?” ne asks, less combative than earlier.

“As I said, he’s taught some of my students.”

Ryo gives him a mean look over his evasive answer. When even Toru’s expression turns disapproving, Iruka sighs.

“I’ve known Kakashi-san for years. He was a good team leader to me, before I became a teacher. Tried to take the fall when I messed up. He’s a good guy. He means well and he cares about the students. More than I gave him credit for, to be honest.” He scratches the bridge of his nose, feeling sheepish. Then he catches their curious looks and clarifies: “we’ve been working on reforming the Academy.” He meets Ryo’s gaze before ne gets any ideas. “Trust me, it’s not glamorous. Late nights of paperwork, takeout, and finances spreadsheets. Not anybody’s dream of a pleasant evening.”

Except Iruka, apparently, who has grown terribly fond of those meetings.

“Are you and the Hokage… friends?” Ryo asks, but this time ne sounds more puzzled than wonderstruck.

The question hits a bit too close to everything Iruka’s been trying and failing so terribly to push away from his thoughts.

He shrugs one shoulder. “The Hokage’s a private person. But yeah, we’re friendly.”

Toru gives a sharp, meaningful little nod. “The burden of power is not an easy one,” he says, to which Nobuko lets out a tortured groan.

“I swear, Toru, you say the lamest things,” she says, looking for a distraction by tugging one of the schematics out of the pile they’ve drawn.

Ryo perks up at the sight.

“Oh, I think I see it, now,” ne says, and proceeds to draw and trigger a two-nodes seal that floods their desk in a matter of seconds. Iruka manages to crumple their research to the dry safety of his arms, but only narrowly.

*

Inspiration strikes Iruka the next morning, while he’s applying balm of sea foam to his temples. He keeps it in mind all day, scraping a few errant minutes here and there to write it down and waiting for the time to complete his parcel.

At the end of the day, the old man at the apothecary squints at him in recognition. Iruka would be surprised, hadn’t he lived the most of his life with a very identifiable scar running across the middle of his face.

“Back already? What did you do, eat it? You’re not supposed to.”

“Ah, no. It’s not for me. But I was wondering if the balm couldn't also help someone back home.”

“It’s not hand lotion. Can’t go around just giving it to anyone.”

Iruka stamps down on his irritation and reminds himself that he’s a guest in Kiri. He tries to figure out a way of wording the issue without divulging state secrets, and gestures in the vague direction of the right half of his face.

“My… friend… used to have a seal over here. For years. Now that the seal’s been taken off, they’ve been having trouble adjusting.”

Thoroughly unimpressed, the shopkeeper snorts. “And what, you don’t have medinin in… wherever you’re from?”

“Konoha. And my friend has a high tolerance for pain,” Iruka replies carefully.

“Ah. The grin and bear it type,” the shopkeeper hums, sounding vaguely sympathetic. ”Tell me the symptoms.”

Something about the folds of his skin seems wry, like he’s very aware he’s about to be given a summarily redacted version of the situation. At the end of Iruka’s account, he scratches his cheek.

“Hm. Chakra migraines. Yeah, unpleasant. Balm of Sea Foam might help, alright. Force chakra flow, plug the leak,” he says, disappearing into the backroom with what Iruka’s beginning to suspect is customary curtness.

Iruka leaves with his purchase wrapped in coarse brown paper. He tucks it into the envelope he folded while at the Archives, along with the letter he penned during lunch break.

The receptionist at the hostel greets him with her usual disinterest. She barely glances at the envelope, even as she grabs a notebook to add it to her to-do list. It’s not the worst she’s had to deal with: three days ago, one of the researchers handed her a chest-wide package to send to Suna. It took up a third of her counter until she was able to push it onto a courrier.

“Where’s it going?” she asks in a monotone.

“Konohagakure,” Iruka supplies helpfully.

“To whom?”

“Hatake Kakashi.”

“Address?”

“Hokage tower.”

A credit to her lethargy, it takes reaching the middle of the address before her pen skids in confusion.

She looks up warily.

“Hatake Kakashi. The Hokage. Of Konoha.” An eyebrow lifts in judgment. “Through common mail?” At Iruka’s nod, she shakes her head. “Don’t you have, like, messenger birds and sh--Oh, what am I saying. Yeah, sure, I’ll take care of it, whatever.”

“Right,” Iruka says, before expressing bemused thanks.

When he reaches it, the dormitory’s empty. A fresh tori seal is cycling air through the window. He throws his legs on the other side of the sill, feet dangling while he sits to take in the view.

It doesn’t go far. Kiri’s imposing tower karsts block the horizon, safeguarding and secretive. The salt of the sea at large still finds its way over, carried by the wind even past the tobacco smoke. Beneath, a lake of ambient mist rolls sluggishly, puddling in the many dips of Kirigakure’s uneven ground like water in rocky shores. The sinuous streets and stairs that complete the landscape draw labyrinthic paths between the cylindrical architecture of the village.

Iruka misses Konoha’s overgrown forest. He misses…

When Nobuko holds out her cigarette, he doesn’t startle.

“Didn't peg you as one for hero-worship crushes,” she says, back and feet adhering to the wall.

“I'm not,” Iruka denies.

He gives a minute shake of his head. She pulls her hand away with a shrug.

“Ah.” The tip of her cigarette flares in the corner of his eyes. “Don't worry, kid. Heartbreak passes.”

Seagulls squawk in the distance, where the eye can’t see. At the windowsill, Iruka pulls up a knee to brace on.

“You?” he asks.

Nobuko takes a silent, drawn out drag. She blows it out in an even longer breath. Her gaze is far away. She rubs the lower half of her face then shakes off the cobwebs of her thoughts.

“Eh. It’s happened. But love needs making yourself vulnerable.” She sucks her teeth and huffs a humorless chuckle. “I'm not made to be vulnerable.”

She offers the cigarette again, pinched upright between thumb and forefinger.

Iruka takes it.

(He coughs, just a little)

*

Dear Kakashi-san,

Thank you for your letter. I was a bit homesick--I've gotten rusty and complacent, I think, staying in Konoha--and it was the perfect cure for it! I'm very grateful. It's a relief to know everything is going well. And to have your support.

You'll find enclosed a little balm. I know your headaches tend to flare, and I thought this might be of help. The apothecary is a grumpy and kind old man that seems perpetually peeved, but his advice has been sound. I use it myself [...]

*

[Part 4]

[knockyasocksoff2022]

The One Day Return of Double Black

(A/N: I intitailly panned for this to be a relationship reveal but it turned out softer, as many of my writing has lately. I don't mind it though. Also this is my very first time ever writing in 3rd person so please forgive me if it sounds whack as hell. This fic isn't entirley isn't entirely in 3rd person, but I wanted to try out a new style of writing,  so let me know if you like it.)

(4,846 words)

Third Person Perspective:

He walks with a purpose, angry that his partner left for work without him. Isn’t it much more efficient if they come in together? After all, they’re work partners so no one would ever suspect the rings resting under Chuuya's glove and Dazai’s shirt, on a chain that holds it suspended right over his heart.

The route to the headquarters is twisting turns through dark back streets, but Dazai remembers it with perfect clarity as if it were yesterday. To him, it was.

—

Even after all this time not much had changed. The Port Mafia still cower under the gaze of Dazai Osamu. If anything they’re more afraid now. And why shouldn’t they be, he is the only person in history to betray the mafia and walk away alive.

The guards are so scared they hardly pay attention to the way the Demon prodigy’s gaze isn’t as sharp as usual, eyes glazed over, or that his unbrushed hair sticks to his forehead with sweat.

Even if they were to notice, it would go uncommented on because that’s the privilege of being the Demon Prodigy.

So no one says anything when he walks through the lobby of the Mori Corporation, black dress shoes still shiny as the day they last set foot here, clicking evenly as he heads for the lift.

The guards will not radio about his presence to their superiors because they are cowards, too afraid of being punished for letting him in. They will not stop him either, too afraid of being punished if he is truly supposed to be here. They are too afraid of him. The torture master, who seems to have regained sight in his other eye. “How terrifying,” they think, “must he be with full sight instead of half.”

The torture master doesn’t stop to think that it’s strange that his old lift code still works, because right now he doesn’t remember just how old it is, the heat coursing through his body erasing the past four years of conflict.

He stares at his reflection. His suit is still pressed, not a wrinkle visible because it’s been untouched. To anyone else, the garment would have been long outgrown but years of only occasional meals of low-calorie food have allowed him to remain the same size and weight as when he was only a boy.

He does not think he is eighteen again, but maybe he wishes he was. For him, time has passed in a sort of mixed and matched fashion, a quilt of mind and muscle memories. His mind, for the movement at least, exists in a world where things are the same as they’ve always been. And when the lift door opens, he needs only to walk down the corridor, into the meeting room (his biometrics will still work) and his executive seat will be waiting for him (it is) just as it was yesterday. He has no idea that, while he would be welcome, his striding into that room would cause a commotion. To him, this is simply another day.

“Maybe I’ll blow off the meeting, and just bother Slug instead, he did leave without me after all.” The prodigy hums as he thinks to himself.

The lift opens to an empty corridor, the boy’s illusion is safe for now.

Chuuya comes first, before everything. He heads down the opposite end of the corridor, to give his lover a piece of his mind.

Chuuya’s Perspective

The weekly meeting was cancelled, and I hardly have any paperwork so I’d say this counts as a good morning. Maybe Mori-san will ask me to take Elise out for ice cream or something. I don’t mind her, when she’s away from him she’s really a nice kid. I won’t dwell too much on the fact that she’s been a kid the entire time I’ve known her, maybe her ability has something to do with shape-shifting.

(A/N: Chuuya likes to be with Elise because it makes him feel tall.)

The door slams open. It’s not the noise that makes me drop my pen, but the person standing in my doorway.

“Ne Chibi! You horrible ungrateful slug, you left me at home! Honestly, you’re so disrespectful. You made me late, I should report you to Mori-san, but I won't because I’m such a good partner, not like you.” 

And suddenly . . .

He’s 16 again. 

A teenager in demeanour but a man in physique, and I’d be lying by omission if I failed to mention how he looks in that suit. The whole situation takes my breath away, proof that love trumps logic when my first thoughts on his sudden appearance here are thirsty ones and not concern.

It makes me a bit sick to think that he’s still skinny enough to fit into something he wore when he was eighteen.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” That's what I want to say, but Dazai’s realm is logic, shifting the pieces from the background. Brute force won’t get me anywhere, it only makes him curl defensively into himself, like a porcupine.

“First of all, you’re the ungrateful one, you brat! You’re the one that sleeps until ungodly hours of the morning. I left you breakfast, did you want a note or something? I’m not your mother!”

He crosses his arms, stepping closer to my desk. I don’t stop him, “Breakfast was absolutely terrible, like everything else you cook, and you still left me—”

I want to laugh, we both know my cooking is exquisite, but there’s something more upsetting about what he said. “Wait, you didn’t drive here, did you?”

“How else was I supposed to get to work when you LEFT ME!” he emphasises the last two words, hopping up to sit on the edge of my desk. I sit on my hands so I don't end up shoving him out of the window.

“I can’t believe you! How many property damage fees do we owe now? Never mind, don't answer that. God! You’re giving me a headache already. And stop going on about how I left you, this isn’t bringing your fish to work day. Why are you even here at all? If you bothered to drive, why didn’t you go to work?”

“I did. I’m here, aren’t I? I could’ve ditched, but nooo, I came in just for you, hatrack.”

“You know you don’t work here anymore, dumbass.” It’s a joke, we both know it. This is just something Osamu would do, come back and act like everything is normal just to psych me out. I always swear not to let his antics phase me but something about him today is ‘off ’. It’s already driving me insane how I can’t put my finger on it.

“Yes I do, I always have, does Chibi have amnesia or did he just finally run out of memory storage in that small brain of his?” He tugs on my hat and I reach out to punch him but he sinks down before I can.

“My brain is just the same size as yours. You don’t work here, and if you think you do then you’re the one with mental problems, not me!”

“Ah, my dog is so mean to me! Bad dog! Bad dog!”

“I’m not your fucking dog you sleazy bastard.”

“Big words coming from a chibikko hatrack.” He remarks, shrugging casually.

These words finally make me pause. As much as we still love sniping at each other, many of these nicknames are hardly ever used anymore, ones we save for times when we both need the nostalgia. Hatrack. I haven’t heard that one in forever, and despite the jeering nature, it sends a flood of warmth through me.

Is that what he’s here for? The nostalgia of it all? Is this what he wants? 

I scrutinise his face for any trace of his motives, taking in every detail. He’s a glorious enigma. His jet-black hair is matted, a snarl that still manages to look fluffy. There’s something stiff about the way it frames his face as if stuck on by glue.

His eyes are bright, a different kind of bright than when he usually teases me, or the soft aura they get when it’s just us alone at home. Normally when he teases me his irises maintain that darkness, almost black, eating all light that enters them, but now they almost appear chocolate brown, reflecting the light. Glossy, sparkling with a shine like the surface of the ocean under the summer sun. It’s disconcerting, wrong, like when he smiles just a little too wide. I don’t dislike it, but I know it isn’t right.

He hasn’t shaved in a while and there’s stubble forming around his jaw, the dark contrasting with his pale features, too pale, the barely visible bags of his eyes making his eyes look far too big.

If nostalgia is what he wants then I’d be happy to give it to him, but I don’t think it is. This is something beyond either of our control.

Shit.

Great, this is just great! What am I gonna do with him now?

“Is Chibi going to apologise to me, or will he be sleeping on the sofa tonight?”

I step closer. I know what’s wrong, but I’ll need to touch him to be sure.

We’re so close now that I can feel the heat radiating off him, his coat certainly isn’t helping. I run at a higher temperature because of Arahabaki, so if I can feel it, it’s bad. He needs a doctor fast, but he’s so stubborn . . . how can I make him come willingly?

“I’m sorry I left you, Osa. You just looked so peaceful sleeping, I couldn’t wake you.” I whisper the words, standing on my tip-toes, leaning forward, closing the small gap between us.

It’s true, with his insomnia being how it is a full night's sleep is rare and when he does get it I let him sleep for as long as he possibly can. I think his colleagues think he sleeps late but most of the time he’s laying in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to get up or trying another method of suicide he found on some sketchy webpage with r-rated pop-up ads.

When my lips meet his I gasp, he tries to deepen the kiss and put his tongue in my mouth. I don’t let him. He responds by pulling the long piece of my hair. I pull away, still grasping his shoulders. I’d been expecting warmth but not like this. Holding him is like holding a flame, his skin feeling like he’s been outside for hours in the summer heat. 

“Fuck! Shit! Dammit, Osa! You’re burning up.”

He just laughs, “So Chibi does think I’m hot, I knew it!” he grins in triumph, of course, he would be laughing with a temperature like this, “You earned your way back to the bed–”

“Actually, I will be sleeping on the sofa, I have no intention of catching whatever you have. We need to get you to the infirmary, Mori-san will have something for you.”

I grab his hand and pull him out the door. I should be worried about people seeing him, but they won’t hurt him. And should they try I won’t let them. I hold Osamu’s burning hand all the way to the lift. How he’s still even functioning, much less standing with a fever like this makes me think he really isn’t human.

The infirmary is only one floor below us, just below the training room, but the training room takes up the space of three floors and the lift isn’t going nearly fast enough for my liking, so I use my ability to drop it.

I thank god for Osamu’s awareness and that he doesn’t cling to me for support and risk cancelling my ability.

When we reach the right floor I release the lift from For The Tainted Sorrow, it clunks loudly to a stop.

The infirmary takes up this entire floor, you might think we’d need multiple floors for enough space, and we do, but this is the so-named special infirmary. (Some of us call it the Meat Locker, behind Mori-san’s back because it’s always so cold.) Mori-san works here when he’s not busy planning strategy. This facility is for the top mafia operatives and is thus equipped to handle ability users and ability-related injuries. The grunts and foot soldiers use the larger infirmary lower in the building.

I set Osamu on the nearest bed and go to find a nurse. The nurses must be in between shifts, but I find Elise. She’s wearing a small nurse’s uniform, hat and all. When I was first told she worked in here I was extremely sceptical but her medical knowledge is as vast as Mori-san and she’s never made a mistake in treating a wound. (This backs up my theory that she’s not actually a child, but an adult who likes to shapeshift into child form, for whatever reason.)

(A/N: HC that Elise possesses all the same basic skills that Mori-san has, like she can do surgery and she could drive but it’s a bit hard for her to reach the pedals and see over the dash. Also in this fic, Chuuya doesn't know Elise is Mori-san’s ability.)

Elise greets me, “You’re here with Osamu aren’t you?”

“How-”

“It’s the look on your face, only he can bring that worry and desperation out in you. What’s happened to him, another attempt?”

“No, he has a fever.”

Elise glares and rolls her eyes, “A fever, seriously!”

“Come on, Elise, you know I wouldn’t have brought him here if it wasn’t bad, and it’s bad.”

“True. Does he have any other symptoms?”

“No, but he’s delirious, he thinks he still works here.”

“Oh, I’m sure Rintarou loves that.” Her dry humour at the expense of Mori-san always amuses me, but I don't laugh now.

“He doesn’t know yet.”

“Are you hiding Osamu?”

“No, he just marched in here as far as I can tell, but I didn’t get a chance to tell Mori-san yet. I figured I’d do it when he’s not dying.”

Elise shrugs, “Fair.”

We’re at Osamu’s bed now, and I can see what he so easily hides from everyone else. He’s starting to wear, the fever finally taking its toll, still, he looks much better than he should and it creeps me out a bit.

Elise feels his forehead, but unlike me, maintains her composure simply nodding and pulling out a thermometer. He doesn’t let Elise stick the thermometer in his ear, so I do it, while she disappears into the medication store room.

After too long, the device beeps.

39.4℃

How is he even . . .? Right, he’s Dazai, of course, he’s fine. The damn cockroach!

Elise is back, pushing a cart with a glass pitcher, a stack of fabric, and medication, which Osamu takes only after I give him a stern look.

Elise takes a stack of fabric, white clothes, and lays them on the bed.

“Fevers like this are dangerous, he’ll need to stay hydrated.” She sets the pitcher on the table beside the bed, “This is mineral water, make sure he drinks all of it, and when it’s empty fill it up again, they’re bottles in the fridge in the store room. If he starts showing any more symptoms let me know, but unless something changes, he should be okay to go home tonight.”

I nod, dumping my coat and hat into the bed next to us, and pouring some water into the glass cup, holding it carefully out to my husband. He doesn’t take it.

“You can get changed first, but then you have to drink water, okay.”

He nods.

I hand him the stack of clothes and pull the curtain around the bed.

When he doesn’t stand I begin pulling off his trench coat. He sits up a bit, allowing me to remove the heavy garment, then flops back down, I sigh and let my finger trace his collarbone while I untie his tie, he leans into the contact, more alert now. I ignore how my warm touch feeling cool to him isn’t a good thing in favour of unbuttoning his shirt.

Now all that’s left are his bandages.

They’re stuck to his skin with sweat but eventually, I peel them all off, his pale fevered skin glowing sickly under the fluorescent lights.

A cool shower or bath would be ideal but I settle for wetting a towel under the sink and patting him down gently with it. He leans into my touch and for just a second I think he’s fallen asleep but then his eyes blink open so fast it makes me jump a little. Swatting his bare arm, I help him put on the soft white pants and a loose white t-shirt.

He still doesn’t touch his water.

I hold it out to him, “You gotta drink, Osa, having a fever like this isn’t good for you, we need to get it down. Then we can go home and watch whatever shitty movies you like.”

He shakes his head.

“Osamu!”

He’s staring at me like he's drinking in every aspect of my being like I did for him in my office.

“I like it when Chuuya is my partner.” He finally says.

“I’ll always be your partner, you silly fish. Forever remember, we promised.” I take off my glove, showing him the ring, a shining metal thing. Two bands of stainless steel with azure sapphires running a line in between them.

Osamu takes out his own ring, two iron bands, with blood-red rubies in between, and rolls it in his palms, not saying anything.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean it like this.” He gestures to the infirmary around us but I still don’t understand.

“I like being Chuuya’s work partner,” he explains, looking more alert now, the medication must be working. “I like it, knowing that everything is still the same, being here and knowing I belong.”

Oh. “You’ll always belong here.”

“Maybe so, but I could never ignore Oda’s last wish like that. I’m already remembering, and I know that once I stop having a temperature everything will go back to normal. But I want . . . I want to stay here with you, hatrack, in this time capsule, just a bit longer.”

Softness and tender love may be what he needs, but it’s not what he wants. Well, then I’ll play along. I don’t mind at all. If he wants to be sixteen again, who am I to deny him that? I’ll love and care for him in the same burning way I did back then.

I sigh, sitting up straighter, leaning away from him, removing any trace of softness from my voice and getting into character. “Hmph! Of course, a mackerel like you would want to stay here longer! I thought you hated pain. And, don’t give me those eyes, I’m not gonna do your paperwork for you.”

He smiles that goofy smile, understanding what I’m doing, not at all offended by my harsh tone.

“Ah, but dogs are supposed to be loyal, and I’m sooo dreadfully ill!” He flops back dramatically

The next line comes easily, “I am not your damn dog!”

We fall back into the teenage banter embarrassingly easily as he goes on about how his greater height makes him the master. It feels like only yesterday that I was in the arcade, choosing to follow him instead of Shirase and Yuan, as I shove a cup of the mineral water towards him, splashing his face. 16-year-old me wouldn’t have reached for a towel to dry his face, so I don’t either. It’s probably okay since he still has a fever.

“Just shut up and drink, you mummified fish!”

He dips his finger in the cup and flicks water at me.

“Dammit, shitty Dazai! Drink it and drown for all I care.”

He takes a slow sip, then another, downing the cup in seconds, his following of my command the only thing shattering the illusion. It makes me laugh how I still call him Dazai when I tease him, even though he hasn’t had that surname in years. I think he’ll always be Dazai, on some level.

-

The day passes surprisingly quickly. With the help of the medication, cool clothes and water, Osamu’s temperature steadily returns to normal.

I tell him about the upcoming mission Mori-san has for ‘us’ and we complain about it. I hear Elise’s chime-like laughter from the store room. Even with his head foggy he offers strategies that make me wish he would still sit at the executive table.

I complain to him about how Mori-san is probably going to make me do paperwork on this incident, and he replies that it’s my own fault because I shouldn’t have left without him, and could have just left him in my office. “But you didn’t, because Chibikko cares about me~~~” he sing-songs.

“In your fucking dreams maybe!” The denial sounds so false on my lips that we both burst out laughing. His eyes are clear again, the haze of fever gone, he doesn't think he’s my work partner anymore, but neither of us stops the banter.

-

After a while though, the sun begins to slip lower and lower in the sky. I take Osamu’s temperature, it’s normal. The pretending is officially over.

“You're all better, Osa. As soon as Elise clears you, we can go home.” I let the softness return to my voice.

I expected him to be disappointed, but he smiles softly, tucking his hair behind his ear in that pretty way he does. Sometimes we both yearn for the nostalgia of simpler times, but we both know that what we have now, between us and only us, is a million times better.

I’ll miss this, but I won’t miss the old port mafia dorm or Osamu’s shipping container. I won’t miss when we didn’t have our own home, the place that is ours. A place we don’t have to hide. I won’t miss the time before I wore a metal ring under my glove. 

I do miss our large king bed, open plan kitchen, luxurious sofa, and our spacious shower.

My stomach rumbles, “God, I’m fucking starving.”

Osamu pats his own stomach, and we remember neither of us had lunch. For some reason, it seems like the funniest thing. We can’t stop laughing for a full minute.

I sigh, catching my breath. “Do you feel well enough to eat? We have leftovers in the fridge, or I can make okayu.”

“Hmm, I know it’s late, but I’m restless from lying down all day, we should go out somewhere?”

I give him a once over. He looks fine. “Yeah, sure. How about that old ramen and sushi place, you know, near–”

“The arcade, yeah.” he finishes my sentence.

“I’ll go get Elise.” Before I can get up there's the sound of even steps on the tile floor.

“Chuuya-san, Dazai-kun, I’ve been meaning to come check on you two.” Mori’s voice and silhouette are familiar, even in the dark infirmary.

“Mori-san.” I nod to my boss. If he’s surprised to see Osamu here he doesn't show it.

“Oh, you can drop the formalities for now, and don’t worry, I’m not here about your paperwork, I gave you the day off as soon as Elise informed me of the situation. Thank you for visiting our fine establishment today, Dazai-kun, I’m glad you’re back to full health. Please know you’re welcome back anytime you like.”

With that, he walks off. Most of the time I laugh when Mori asks Osamu to come back. He won’t force him back and even then Osamu would find a way not to come if he didn’t want to. After today though, I find myself wishing Osamu would accept. We were such a good team, and we still are. But I respect his wanting to stay in the light for Oda, and I can be more than content with having him be mine all mine outside of work.

Elise feels Osamu’s forehead, taking his temperature one last time, and declares him cleared.

I smile as she leaves, we both do.

He looks at his clothes scattered on the floor.

“Those are all sweaty, you shouldn’t wear them. And no bandages either, you can put them back on at home, after you’ve had a shower.”

He gives me puppy eyes, “Fine. Would a dog lend his master some of his clothes?”

“Fuck no!”

“Ugh, not the ones you’re wearing . . . though I would like to see you naked.”

I smack him lightly on his head.

He shrugs, “Can’t I be honest with my husband? But only I get to see Chibi naked, you can keep your clothes. I know you keep spare stuff in your office in case you have to work overnight.”

I roll my eyes and pull him up, grabbing his clothes and my own coat and hat.

-

He looks at home in my office, lounging on the sofa looking as if he never left, as if I woke up and came back in here realising that his betrayal was merely a dream. 

But I know he never left me, not really.

The clothes I keep in my drawer are for all sorts of emergencies.

A copy of my usual work outfit in case it gets bloody or something.

Pyjamas if I have to sleep here

A formal suit for the dinners we executives have to attend with Port mafia associates.

Some old casual clothes if I have a stake-out mission

And a nice but not fancy outfit for when I have a date with Osamu and I’m not able to stop at home to get ready first.

I take pieces from each of the last three outfits for Osamu, already laughing as I picture how short the sleeves and trousers will be on him. It’s his fault that his arms and legs are so ridiculously long.

I hand him the clothes and he seems to be thinking the same thing (we often are). His face morphs into a look of teasing disgust. “Ewwww! I have to wear Chuuya’s tacky clothes.”

But he gives no protest as I help him undress. Thankfully the suit is new enough that I hadn't hemmed the slacks yet, and because he’s so skinny the waistband shouldn’t be a problem.

Taking inspiration I decided to go for something more casual myself.

-

The outfit is mismatched but when I stand back it all somehow fits. Frustratingly, he’s managing to pull off the white tee shirt, black slacks, and red hoodie.

I wear a black tee shirt, an old worn pair of jeans and a blue Yokohama Tigers bomber jacket.

He laughs, holding me just off the ground, “We match.”

“Yeah, Now let me go, I’m hungry!”

I stuff our clothes in a paper bag I have left over from my last trip to the wine shop and we’re off.

-

I’d almost forgotten about it but the weight that comes off my shoulders when I see that Osamu’s car is miraculously unscathed is immense.

I drive this time, while Osamu stretches himself out in the backseat, singing loudly along to the music on the radio.

-

The sleek car will stick out on this side of town so I park in an alleyway.

“You good to walk the rest of the way?”

“Yup.”

People stare at us as we walk. I don’t blame them, I’m sure I look like some kind of punk high schooler and then there's Osamu with his dress trousers and shoes with a hoodie.

It makes me feel fifteen again, people used to stare at us then too.

The ramen joint is run by a small gang, but they don’t interfere with us so we leave them alone. The owner still shakes in fear when we enter, wondering what business I could have with him.

“We’re just here for the food,” I say, not paying him a glance as I take two menus from the counter. He sighs in relief.

-

The food takes a bit longer than usual, but I swear it’s twice as delicious. I think they must still be worried about my business here.

Osamu and I eat wordlessly, the food is too good to be uninterrupted by any conversation. When we’re together we don’t need words anyway, and when we’re done we both stare out the window. We can see the bright lights of the arcade from here, one of the only and brightest lights around, a beacon in the night.

Osamu looks at me, I look at him. There’s a certain glimmer in his eyes, the one I used to crave like it was life itself before I knew he returned my feelings. I can see the shine in my own eyes reflected in his.

I take a wad of cash out of my wallet and drop it on the table, the waitress looks at us with wide eyes as we leave. I say nothing but Osamu waves goodbye to the owner like a little kid, the gleam in his eyes only intensifying.

The sun has completely disappeared from sight now, and we should go home and go to bed like responsible adults, especially after the day Osamu’s had. But it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last so what’s a little disregard for personal health for old-time’s sake?