#posting on holiday to avoid the rush

[bonesblubs]

Giving thanks for shixiong

[ayyy-pee]

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Model!Shoko Ieri x Female Reader, Model!Utahime Iori x Female Reader, Shokohime x Female Reader

Summary: You're a top Public Relations manager covering Tokyo Fashion Week. All the drugs, sex and outrageous going ons never see the light of day. Why? Because it's your job to cover up scandal.

But that doesn't mean you can't have your own risky fun.

Story Warning: Smut, LESBIANS, Reader works in Public Relations, Mentions of Drugs, Mentions of hookups, Bath sex, Bathtub Threesome, Cunnilingus, Cum Eating, Profanity bc c'mon...it's me, Vaginal Bumping and Grinding, Referenced STRAP usage, Fingering, Secret Flings, Sneaky Sex, Dub-con? (Reader and ShokoHime have a few drinks...but do consent to sex), Sneaking Around, Secret Recordings

Art by: Cake__Sensei (Twitter)

A/N: I FINALLY finished something for my Jujutsu Journal Collab Event! I hope yall enjoy!!! Thank you to everyone participating and for everyone who has helped me to reach 3k followers!!!

You’ve always loved the fast paced feel of Tokyo Fashion Week. The bright lights flashing and catching every crease and detail of the fabrics on display. The music thumping and crowd cheering as the models strut down the runway. The chaos backstage as everyone rushes to slip in and out of the next garment in time for their cue. Yes, you loved being a part of that feeling, you loved capturing that feeling. Because it was your job to catch every crease and detail, the sexy walks of the models, the mayhem that happens behind the scenes while the audience patiently waits.

It’s exhilarating, really. Being invited to such elite and exclusive events has changed your life in ways you could have never imagined. When you first started your career in fashion, you would have never dreamed of making it this far. This was worlds away from filming street fashion on your shitty little cell phone and interviewing small time designers. But you’ve worked so hard, worked even smarter and have networked your way to the top of your department.

And now, you're the head of the PR team for one of the top fashion magazines in Japan, currently assigned to cover the after party of Tokyo Fashion Week to collect enough content for a post show documentary.

The after party is as wild as you’d imagined it would be. The ritziness and glam of the actual fashion show can hardly be found here. It’s all thumping loud music, raunchy dancing and paraphernalia scattered across various surfaces. 

Looking for sweaty bodies bumping and grinding in off the runway Dior? You’ll find it here. 

Want to catch someone snorting a line in vintage Chanel? Just turn your head in any direction, really. 

Can you see a pair of this season’s YSL heels peeking out from around the corner where someone is on their knees giving the sloppiest blowjob? Absolutely.

And it’s your job to make sure that what’s happening here never sees the light of day.

You love scandal, because it gives you a job, pays your bills and keeps your lights on and food in your fridge. As long as some celebrity is getting into shit they’re not supposed to, you’ll always have a job. But outside of work, you loathe scandal, avoid it at all costs because the biggest cost would be your career. Sure, you’ve joined in on the fun, partook in scandalous behavior from time to time, but you’re always careful. There are never any traces, never any receipts, never any damning evidence that could lead back to you.

No one will ever know that you spent a weekend in Bali with famous pop musician Satoru Gojo while his wife waited patiently for him to return from “filming” a new music video.

They will also never know about your brief tryst with his best friend, Suguru Geto in Nara, Seoul and Bora Bora. Not even Satoru.

And your romantic holiday trip with award winning actress Yuki Tsukumo? As far as everyone else knows, it never happened.

See, you were that damn good at your job. That’s why you were the head of your PR team, after all. It’s why you knew exactly where to direct your videographer to point their camera. You spot the rolled dollar bills and white lines before they can react, finger pushing the camera sideways to focus on something else.

Lo and behold, it points to a group of models standing casually off to the side of the party as they mingle with guests. You recognize one face among the crowd, those deep purple bags beneath his eyes highlighted by the flashing neon lights.

It’s Choso, a model, with his hair up in space buns, a part of his styling. He’s dressed to the nines in the most stylish streetwear of the season, his signature Prada combat boots on. 

You’ve known Choso for quite some time, often running into each other at these afterparties. Years ago, in the early hours of the morning, you’d clumsily attempted a drunk hookup. Every kiss, every touch, every attempt to work each other up to something more amounted to nothing. It ended with you both tangled in each other’s arms, falling apart with laughter. And so, you’d decided you were better off as friends, and had become quite close since. It worked better for you both that way. You just weren’t into each other like that.

But Choso has been a good friend to you. You often find yourself hanging out together after the chaos of the fashion show has died down and a new session of mayhem has begun for the afterparty. You haven’t seen him in months, but that doesn’t seem to make a difference because Choso spots you easily behind the camera and waves you over to his group of friends.

“Haven’t seen you since Paris,” he calls out to you as you approach. He slings an arm around your shoulders, hugging you tightly to his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know! I’ve missed you!” You yell back. “How have you been?”

“Not too bad, not too bad at all. Dating someone now!”

You lean back in his hold, brows rising to your hairline. “You? In a relationship?” 

You’re shocked. You’ve seen Choso go through different women, but never heard him refer to whoever he was seeing as dating. He nods, just as one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever laid eyes on approaches you two. Her lips quirk into a pretty smile and you can tell right away that she’s not a model. The smile is far too genuine, but that’s not to say she couldn’t be one if she wanted. She’s stunning, with smooth caramel brown skin and braids that fall down her back, and big brown eyes that you can already see Choso getting lost in as he pulls away from you to wrap his arms around her waist. He peers down at her, the awe apparent in his gaze. Like he just can’t believe he’s got her.

“Hey, babe,” he mutters just before his lips meet hers in a hungry kiss.

Oh, he’s in love, love.

Choso introduces you to his babe, Kamila and she’s as sweet as she looks. But you don’t get to talk to her much, because Choso is not willing to spend any time he’s not obligated to away from his love. You don’t blame him. She’s breathtaking. You can’t help but smile, watching as Choso and his girlfriend completely forget they’re at this party together, surrounded by people. 

Which is fine, because it’s about time to wrap it up yourself so that you and your crew can also take time to enjoy the rest of the festivities.

Turning to your associate, you signal for them to hand you their camera. They quickly switch it off before placing it in your hands. “Go party,” you tell them, dismissing them for the night. “Nothing crazy,” you add. “And if it gets crazy, make sure there’s nothing that can be traced back to the company. And if something happens that can be traced back to the company, call me.”

They know the rules. They’re the same ones you follow and the same ones the company practically beat into your skull when you were first brought on. So far, they’ve worked for you. No one has been able to outsmart any of you. Your team is solid.

“Got it boss,” your cameraman exclaims. Then they’re off to get into whatever trouble the night has in store for them.

And while you’re pondering what trouble you can get into, it seems to find you first.

“Boss, huh?” A sweet voice questions behind you. You spin around to see Choso and his girlfriend are now nowhere in sight. Instead, you’re face to face with two of the most alluring women you’ve ever laid eyes on. They’re dressed in skin tight dresses that leave little to the imagination, their long legs exposed and damn they look good. You recognize them from the show and from the model roster.

The beautiful slender one with the cute little beauty mark beneath one of her tired eyes – Shoko Ieiri. She’s got a bit of an intimidating aura and a smile that has your heart pounding rapidly behind your ribcage. She’s a bit scary. And admittedly, you find it sexy. 

You’ve never spoken to Shoko. The models are usually too busy working and racing around backstage to have much time to mingle. By the time the show’s over, they’re either back in their rooms or out at whatever party they can get into. But have also never heard anything negative about Shoko from any contacts in the industry, which speaks volumes to you. You hear everything. It’s easy for anyone to get their hands on anything if they try hard enough.

When there’s nothing to find, it means they’re good at keeping their dirt swept under the rug. Those are the types of people you get along best with.

Then, there’s the slightly shorter one, with a rough scar that runs from one side of her face to the other in contrast to her soft features – Utahime Iori. She’s as striking as Shoko – curvy and looks soft in all the right places. 

Again, nothing crazy about Utahime. You’ve heard she’s quite the hothead, which would be quite interesting if it were true. She has a less intimidating air about her. Her big brown eyes make her seem sweeter than the woman standing beside her. It makes her all the more intriguing to you.

Regardless, they both have their pretty gazes on you and for a split second, you feel the roles reverse. In this world, you’re at the top of the food chain. Everyone else is the prey. Because you could spin any story, take any insult slung your way and crush your target. Because no one had anything on you. But for some reason, as these two women stare you down, Utahime with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth and Shoko puckering her lips around the butt of a cigarette, you feel like they could destroy you.

And if there’s one thing you love, it’s a woman who feels dangerous.

So when Shoko asks if you’d like to join her and Utahime for some drinks, you really can’t say no. And you don’t want to.

- - - - - - - - -

“What’d you think of the show?” Utahime asks eagerly. You’re all seated on one of the expensive velvet sofas on the second floor of this club. Shoko has made herself comfortable, leaning back against the arm of the chair. And you’ve made yourself even more comfortable, seated between her long legs and leaning against Shoko’s chest while Utahime sits next to you, idly playing with your fingers.

You take a slow sip of your drink. It’ll probably be your last for the night. From the moment you laid eyes on these two, you knew what direction you wanted the night to go. You want to be sober enough to enjoy it.

Utahime peers up expectantly at you with those big brown eyes of hers, long lashes curling cutely and it makes your cheeks heat. The alcohol is not helping with how easily your body is responding.

“It was really good,” you finally answer. Utahime beams, a little smile beginning to grow on her lips.

“Really?” She asks, and you nod. “We did good?”

Behind you, you feel the vibration of Shoko’s chuckle rumble against your back. And as you stare down into Utahime’s eyes, it’s clear why.

Okay. This one likes praise, you note mentally. You nod again. “So good.” And you’re unable to stop the smile forming on your lips when Utahime’s grin widens. She looks over to Shoko, who lazily takes a drag of another cigarette, blowing her smoke out of the side of her mouth to avoid suffocating you. Her long fingers trail absentmindedly up and down your arm as she listens to you and Utahime continue on about the show.

You’ve noticed that Shoko isn’t very talkative. She’s more observant than anything and while that would usually bother you, there’s something about Shoko that puts you at ease. Like you can put your life in her hands and can be confident you would be alright. Maybe it’s because everything around you is always so busy, always so loud. Her silence feels grounding amongst the chaos. 

But you also find her silence a little funny since she and Utahime seem to be so close. Utahime seems more the party type than Shoko does. She’s outgoing and friendly, warm and inviting. It’s such a stark contrast to Shoko, and yet they’re always with each other. Even earlier in the night, if Shoko went to the bar, Utahime was right behind her, telling you they’d be right back before chasing after her. If Utahime wanted to dance, Shoko was next to her. You suppose opposites do attract.

You suspect they’re more than just colleagues or friends and you file that tidbit away in your mind. If the night is headed where you want it to go, where you suspect it’s going to go, you need to collect any pertinent information you can beforehand. 

Just in case.

“Ugh,” Shoko groans, leaning forward suddenly to smash her half finished cigarette into the ashtray on the side table next to her. “All this noise is making my head hurt.”

Utahime nods in agreement. “It has been a long day…” She sits straighter, grasping your hand tightly she asks, “Should we get going?”

Damn, you think. You’re a little disappointed to think the night is ending here. “Are you two heading home?” You’re sure the frown on your face is clear, even in the darkness of the venue. You don’t want them to go yet.

Shoko snorts, shaking her head. She leans back against the chair, looping an arm around your waist and pulling you back onto her. “No,” she breathes, and she’s so close to your ear, you can feel her breath ghost along your skin, can smell the faint mixture of nicotine and spearmint. “We don’t live anywhere near here,” she explains, fingers gliding along your skin again. “Hime and I got a reservation at one of those onsen hotels up the street.”

“It’s really nice from the pictures I saw online,” Utahime adds, a cheerful lilt to her tone when she speaks. “Can’t wait to get there.”

You can feel the shift in the atmosphere when those words leave her lips. The air is thick, heavy. You’re familiar with this feeling. You know it all too well, and your heart races in your chest. Behind you, you feel Shoko’s body tense up briefly before she relaxes.

Then Utahime is crawling along your form, moving closer to you, closer and closer, and you think she’s going to try and kiss you. And damn it, you’d let her…if it was you she was aiming for. Instead, you watch, eyes blown wide with curiosity and honestly, desire as Utahime presses her plush lips to Shoko’s. Normally, you’d be elated to know your hunch was correct, that they were in fact more than friends, but you can’t seem to care when you see their lips connect. Their kiss is sweet at first, just a few light pecks, quiet sighs between them. Until Utahime grins into the kiss, pulling back slightly to giggle at the way Shoko’s brows knit together. Shoko frowns, bringing a hand up to grip Utahime’s long chocolate tresses.

“Don’t tease me, Hime,” she breathes through gritted teeth. Then she’s pulling Utahime’s face to hers, smashing their lips together for a messy, passionate kiss. And all you can do is watch as their tongues slip into each other’s mouths, breaths heavy as they quietly moan into each kiss. It’s so sexy, the way Utahime whimpers. How Shoko nips at Utahime’s already swollen lips. How Shoko pulls you tighter against her, pressing your ass against her groin.

You’re not sure if it’s the drinks you’ve had with these girls, the cigarettes or the scent of their perfumes that has your head swimming. Hell, maybe it’s a mixture of it all, but you’re so turned on watching these beautiful women kissing in front of you. All of their lust being poured into each slot of their lips, every groan and whimper between them, it’s all so arousing. You squeeze your thighs together, prompting a soft chuckle from the woman behind you. Shoko breaks away from the kiss, releasing her hold on Utahime’s hair who pouts cutely, sitting back on her knees.

“Don’t look so sad, Hime,” Shoko coos. She turns her attention back to you. “Just seemed like someone wanted to join us.”

And you do. You want to join them real fucking bad.

But when Shoko leans forward, just trying to press a kiss to your neck, your brain suddenly crawls out of the fog. You’re out in the open, in a compromising position with two models, at that. So you move, a hand flying up to push Shoko back a little.

Her brows furrow, head tilting in confusion and she releases her hold on you. “Oh– Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume…I just thought–”

“No you’re right,” you reassure them. Your eyes dart around the venue, and while everyone is likely drugged up or too drunk out of their minds to notice three girls feeling each other up in the club, you can never be too careful. “Just…not here. Let’s go back to your hotel.”

Shoko looks at Utahime, who stares at you two with eager eyes and a smile that would melt anyone’s heart. “Okay! Let’s go!”

- - - - - - - - -

Shoko checks you all into the hotel, and the room is as beautiful as you’d imagine it would be. There’s a main bedroom with a fluffy king bed ready to be slept in…or not. Off to the side of the room is a small dining area, and through large glass doors is the onsen bath, the water already run by the hotel staff for you. It screams luxury. You can see the steam curling from the water and god, if you couldn’t use a bath to wash away the day.

You set your bag and camera down on the dining table. Stretching your arms over your head, you take in the room, moving across the space. “This hotel is fucking incredible,” you gasp. “I can’t believe your agency spoils you guys like this.”

Shoko laughs, kicking her heels off and setting them in the little armoire by the entrance. “Right? I was surprised myself. Make yourself at home,” she tells you from the other side of the room.

She didn’t have to tell you twice. You couldn’t wait to crawl into that bed and – 

“What’s this for?”

You peek over your shoulder, eyes landing on Utahime fumbling around with the camera and panic sets in. You cannot lose that footage. “Please don’t touch that!” It comes out more forcefully than you intended and Utahime sets the camera down quickly, holding her hands up defensively. 

“Sorry!”

You rush toward her, only to be stopped in your tracks by Shoko, who places her hands on your shoulders. “Hey, relax. She was just looking.” She fixes you with a small smile, running her hands soothingly along your arms. And it does calm you, the earlier fear you felt melting away. “Be glad you caught her before she dropped it.” Shoko shakes her head, releasing your shoulders before she turns, moving towards the other woman. Utahime stands still, watching and waiting as Shoko slips behind her easily. Shoko’s fingers pinch the zipper of Utahime’s dress and drag it along the fabric until her dress slowly loosens around her chest and your gaze falls to the movement. “She can be careless sometimes,” Shoko speaks softly. Her fingers glide along Utahime’s collarbone, dragging down to the swell of her breasts. “Don’t mind her.” 

Shoko spins around, and Utahime follows, gently pushing Shoko’s hair aside. She presses a soft kiss to the back of Shoko’s neck and you watch as she trails kisses along the side of Shoko’s neck, pulling quiet sighs from the taller woman as she pulls the zipper until the fabric falls to the floor, revealing her bare slim form. Shoko turns back around and captures Utahime’s lips with hers, only breaking away to whisper, “Be more careful, okay?” before she’s back on her.

And all you can do is watch, the nerves you felt earlier about the camera now melted away. Beneath the soft lighting of the hotel room, they look like ethereal beings. Too innocent to be partaking in such salacious behavior. Arousal pools in your core as the vision of the two model’s tongues tangling sends you spiraling. Have you ever been so turned on, so eager to touch someone, to feel their body on yours? Even your nights spent with the most famous celebrities never had you so tempted to slip your hands into your panties.

It’s the way Shoko holds onto Utahime’s form against her own. How she reaches a hand up to pull down the loosened fabric against Utahime’s chest. How Utahime becomes exposed, her supple breasts falling gently. Utahime’s soft whimpers when the chill air ghosts along her pretty pink nipples, the buds puckering when Shoko rolls them gently between her fingers.

Shoko sighs, pulling away reluctantly. “You’re so pretty,” she whispers, hands kneading Utahime’s breasts. “So beautiful. My perfect girl.”

You can see the way Utahime’s eyes light up from across the room, a shy smile lifting the corners of her lips. “No, you,” she teases and Shoko chuckles.

Her heated gaze finds yours from across the room, how you’re watching them intently with desire clear in your eyes. Utahime follows her line of sight, and it’s clear to her what Shoko wants. She raises her hand, inviting you over to join. And you don’t hesitate. Like magnets drawn to each other, your legs carry you to them with ease.

Both women welcome you, the anticipation clear. They want this just as badly as you do, and for a moment, you wonder if their panties are just as soaked as yours. They’ve been kissing each other, touching each other, getting to taste and enjoy each other while you’ve gotten the pleasure of watching from the sidelines. Now you’re about to partake in these pleasures with them. You’re more excited than you care to admit.

Utahime takes your hand, guiding you closer and closer until you’re standing right in front of her. “Are you okay with this?” She asks, eyes locked on your parted lips and you nod your consent.

“Yes, I want this.”

Utahime’s bright eyes travel to Shoko, who watches you both with hardly concealed interest. 

“This stays here, though. Right?” 

You want to be sure before moving forward. Not that you were concerned, but better to have heard it with your own ears.

”Of course,” Shoko confirms. She bites down on her lip before looping an arm around your waist. Now she has both you and Utahime in her hold. “Now kiss her.”

The command has your core aching. You’ve wanted nothing more than to know what it felt like, tasted like, to kiss them. Didn’t matter who first or if it was both at the same time. You just wanted to feel their lips on yours.

And you do, when Shoko dips her head down to bury her face in your neck just as Utahime presses her mouth on yours. The moment their mouths connect with your skin, your body ignites with heat. Utahime is an amazing kisser. She has pretty, plush and soft lips that easily mold against yours. And she makes cute little noises when your tongues touch.

Shoko on the other hand, is a bit rougher, hungrier with her kisses. When she cups your cheek and breaks your kiss with Utahime by turning your head, she’s quick to nip at your lips. Her tongue slips into your mouth the second you let out a moan. While you and Shoko are heavily making out, Utahime takes this time to grab your hands, laying them against her large breasts.

“Touch me,” she sighs, squeezing your hands beneath hers and moaning at the applied pressure. 

You oblige, hands running lightly over the hardened buds and you revel in the way Shoko moans a quiet “I love the way you play with her tits…” into your mouth. “I wanna see you play with her pussy later.” You whimper into the kiss, her confession making your cheeks heat. You’ll admit, this is your first threesome. It’s hard to focus, your mind is so foggy with the arousal building in your core. It’s all too much – too much movement, too much touching, too much sound and way too much going on with your own body.

Your lips tingle, almost numb from how hard and greedily Shoko kisses you. Your skin vibrates with the way Utahime is practically helping you to play with her breasts. And your panties are probably dripping with arousal right now. You are desperate to cum.

“We should get into the bath,” Utahime groans when you cup her breasts. She leans forward, nudging Shoko away from your lips. Shoko gives her hardly any space at all, taking one side of your mouth while Utahime takes the other. Then it’s all three of your tongues tangling together in this sloppy, wet kiss. 

Though you’re all reluctant to break away, Shoko moves first, stepping back enough to grab the hem of your shirt and peel it off of you, forcing Utahime back as well. You’re all breathing heavily, flushed and aroused beyond measure, but you still nod. “Yeah, let's get in bath…” 

++++++++++

“Have you been with a woman before?” Shoko asks, lacing her fingers between yours as she guides you into her lap. You straddle her, though you don’t sit fully on her lap yet.

You’ve all slipped into the warmth of the deep hotel bathtub. Shoko sits half submerged on the bathtub’s built-in bench with her back against the tub’s wall. If your body was burning up before, it’s on fire now, your pulse racing after spending the last few minutes lathering each other’s bodies and kissing until your lips hurt.

“I have.”

Shoko’s brows rise, almost as if she’s surprised by the confirmation. “Two women?”

You shake your head. Nevertheless, Shoko grins as she asks, “Well? The one you’ve been with…How was it?” She pulls you closer, until your lips are hovering barely over hers, breaths mingling. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

The question hangs heavy between you two. It’s not as though answering this question would implicate you in any way, or give them any clues as to who the last woman you slept with was. So you answer honestly, just barely above a whisper. “Yeah, it was pretty good.”

Utahime giggles, gliding through the water to close the distance between you all. “She’s so cute, Shoko.” 

Shoko cups your face, eyes cast down to your lips. “She is, isn’t she?” She runs her thumb along your lip teasingly before she declares, “I can give you something better than pretty good.” 

“Yeah?” You challenge her.

“Yeah, she can,” Utahime confirms. “We can.” She closes the gap between you all, placing her hands on your waist from behind. You feel her wet breasts press against your back and your eyes flutter closed. Utahime is curvy in all the right places. You are no better than a man, more than turned on by the feeling of her pressed against you. Your absolute favorite part about her is her pretty, large breasts. You can’t wait to have her nipples in your mouth.

Utahime places light kisses along your skin, along your neck, moving so that she’s on her knees beside you and Shoko. She adjusts her height smoothly so that she sits a little taller, enough so that she can cup the back of your head and pull you to her chest. Your lips latch onto her nipple quickly, eagerly and she gasps, back arching and pushing her breast further into the cavern of your mouth. You hum against her, tongue rolling the pert bud. She tastes of the strawberry body wash you just rinsed off of her. You’re so distracted, moving back and forth between Utahime’s breasts that you don’t notice Shoko slipping a hand between the other woman’s thighs beneath the water. Not until Utahime cries out, hands coming up to find purchase on your shoulders. 

And Shoko, the bitch that she is, places her other hand on your thigh and guides you to sit down, mouth falling open with a soft moan when your hips connect under the bath water. Shoko rolls hips, brushing her core with yours and grinning as she watches your mouth fall agape against Utahime’s breast. She does it again, smiling wide when a small whimper falls from your lips. Then she keeps doing it, keeps grinding herself against you until your thighs are trembling, and you’re nothing but a puddle clinging to Utahime’s waist.

And Utahime, she’s not any better off. Shoko’s fingers are slowly working her towards her release. She’s already been pent up, teased and turned on since you’d all gotten together at the nightclub. Now, as Shoko scissors her fingers inside her sex, presses her palm to her clit, Utahime only inches closer to the edge. 

The smaller woman pushes you from her chest, her hands cupping your face so she can capture your lips with hers. And you’re so overstimulated, your mind reeling while the water sloshes with every thrust of Shoko’s hips. Shoko gently cups one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between her thumb and forefinger, moaning as she feels your clits brush against each other repeatedly. She sighs sweetly watching as you ride her, all while Utahime rides her hand while her lips slot against yours.

“You’re so soft,” Utahime breathes, tongue pushing past your lips to press against your own wet muscle. One hand finds the back of Utahime’s head, fingers tangling in her soft tresses and you hear Shoko moan beneath you, her hips slamming into yours. Your tongue tangles messily with Utahime’s, all saliva and groans as Shoko moves you against her. Water splashes over the sides of the tub. You can’t be bothered to care about the mess you’re all making. Not when this feels so good, not when Utahime kisses you like this, not while Shoko makes her sob into your mouth, not when you can feel the delicious tension beginning to build in your core. 

“Fuck, ah – you’re both so sexy…” Shoko groans. “Love watching you kiss each other. So fucking sexy…Play with my tits while I fuck her, Hime.”

Without breaking the kiss, Utahime grasps one of Shoko’s breasts, tweaking her nipple and grinning against your mouth when Shoko gasps loudly. Her thrusts come faster, head falling back as she moans.

“Ahh…Shoko…you make such pretty sounds, baby.” Utahime coos and you whimper, eyes rolling back when your cunt slides against Shoko’s deliciously. “You do, too,” Utahime tells you, kissing you one last time before breaking away to lean down and kiss Shoko now.

All the while, Shoko never stops her movements. It’s like she’s an expert with her hands because she never loses hold of your hip, guiding you against her while she fucks her fingers into Utahime with her other hand. The room is full of the lewd sounds of you three whimpering, moaning, and whining at the shared intimacy. If there’s anyone in the rooms next to you, they may complain, but you’re not worried about that. You’re more concerned with the way Utahime’s voice rises several octaves, her cheeks pink and eyes squeezed shut.

“Gonna cum?” Shoko groans. “C’mere. C’mere, baby,” Shoko stops moving, gently pulling her fingers from Utahime’s pussy. She’s so gentle with the other woman as she adjusts herself so that she’s able to lean her head back enough for Utahime to stand between you and her, legs spread as she settles her knees on the edge of the tub, positioning her core over Shoko’s face. You’ve got a nice view of Utahime’s pretty round ass, and an even better view of Shoko pressing a passionate kiss to Utahime’s cunt, tongue running through her folds, lips wrapping around Utahime’s swollen bud.

Utahime gasps, moaning breathlessly when Shoko sucks her clit hard, then teases it with the tip of her tongue. Your hands play idly with Shoko’s nipples, eyes locked on the way Shoko devours Utahime, like she’s never tasted something sweeter in her life. It’s such an arousing vision. Utahime’s thighs begin to tremble and you’re grateful for the platform of the bath, where Utahime falls forward onto her hands. She’s on all fours, riding Shoko’s face. 

“Shokoooo, ooh–,” she hisses through gritted teeth. “Gonna fucking cum, babe,” she warns, and Shoko’s lips wrap around her clit again, humming loudly as she gives Utahime’s ass a harsh smack. This has Utahime’s body spasming, a high pitched cry leaving her as she reaches her peak. And as you watch Shoko drive Utahime over the edge with just her tongue, you’re unsure if it’s the water from the bath or Utahime’s release that’s running down Shoko’s face, absolutely soaking the taller woman’s chin.

“Fuck,” you moan quietly, eyes locked on the sexy sight before you. Your clit throbs beneath the surface. Maybe Shoko feels it, because she picks her movements back up after returning both hands to your hips. Your cunt slips and slides against Shoko’s again and this time, after watching Utahime fall apart on Shoko’s tongue, you’re even more aroused and eager to reach your own release. It’s not too far off, only getting closer as you watch Utahime shudder while Shoko continues making out with her pussy.

When it’s clear Utahime is spent, she climbs off of Shoko and slips back into the water, gliding through the liquid to position herself behind you where she begins kissing along your neck again. Her hands finds your breasts and she kneads them gently from behind, the motion such a contrast to the way Shoko is roughly fucking you again.

And once more, you’re all whimpering, hands roaming each other’s bodies. Grabbing soft flesh and squeezing anywhere you can that pulls sweet noises. You’re riding Shoko hard, desperately trying to cum. Each stroke of your clit against hers has you reeling, the sweet sensation pushing you closer and closer to your climax.

“I’m jealous,” Utahime pouts cutely. “Shoko gets to fuck you so good. I wanna fuck you, too.” 

You can’t do anything but whimper pathetically at the aspect of your legs crossed with Utahime’s. Shoko’s moans follow. “I wanna see you fuck her, baby.” She thrusts her hips up, a loud moan rushing past your lips. “You wanna fuck Hime, too? She eats pussy so good.”

“God, yes!” You cry, eyes closed as you focus on your impending climax.

“We have plenty of time tonight,” Utahime assures you. “Maybe we can even do this another time.”

“Oh, I’d love that. Get to see this pretty pussy again,” Shoko grunts, eyes locked on the way your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. “God, even in the water, your pussy is so fucking wet.”

Utahime groans, pouting further. “Stopppp, Shoko. I already said I’m–”

“Gonna cum,” Shoko whines. “Oh my god, I’m gonna cum!”

Shoko leans forward suddenly, grasping you by the back of your neck and pulling you close so she can crash her lips into yours. The mixture of Shoko's taste and the tang of Utahime’s cum on Shoko’s tongue has your eyes rolling back, and you’re toppling over. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, the tension and build up throughout the night finally snapping the band that had been coiling in your core for the last several hours.

Your arms wrap around Shoko’s shoulders as you keen into each other's mouths, riding out your highs.

“Oh wow…” Utahime rubs small circles on your back. “That was…really hot.”

You’re catching your breath, Shoko still holding onto your hips tightly. Her hair is stuck to her forehead, a sweaty mess that somehow looks even more beautiful this way.

“We’re gonna need another bath,” she chuckles.

The night carries on with much of the same taking place. After the bath (and second bath), the three of you fall into bed, quickly finding yourselves tangled in the sheets.

++++++++++

The next morning, you’re awakened by the sound of your phone buzzing incessantly on the hotel table. Your head is pounding and you’re not sure if it’s the couple glasses of wine you had, or the dehydration from the many orgasms both women pulled from you last night. Probably a mixture of both.

Speaking of Shoko and Utahime, you stretch carefully in bed, remembering you all fell asleep with you sandwiched between them. But you’re left confused when you don’t feel a warm body on either side of you. You open your eyes slowly, wincing when the early morning rays of sun feel like a punch to the forehead. But even the aching in your skull isn’t enough for you to ignore that you appear to be alone in a hotel room that is not yours.

You crawl out of bed, peering around the room. “Hello?” You call out, and it feels like your voice is echoing, bouncing off the walls of this quiet room. You check the bathroom and find it’s empty. You check the closet and don’t see any evidence that clothes were inside last night. “Maybe they just had to leave,” you murmur to yourself. Because it helps soothe the nagging feeling you have sitting in the pit of your stomach at the moment.

Shrugging off the feeling, you go about your morning as you normally would. You shower, brush your teeth, dress in the clothes you’d come over in last night and plan on heading back home to report back to work.

Your phone is still buzzing when you’re about ready to head out. You finally pick it up, unlocking the device and seeing a plethora of missed calls as well as several text messages from some of your team members and associates.

Associate 1: Where are you?

Associate 1: 911!! Please pick up!

You roll your eyes, wondering what trouble they’d gotten into last night. What mess will you have to clean up this morning?

Associate 3: PLEASE ANSWER THE PHONE

Director: You need to call me.

Director: NOW.

Slight panic begins to set in, and you continue scrolling through your messages. There’s one from an unknown number, sent in the early hours of the morning. You open the message, eyes practically bulging out of your head when you see the contents.

Unknown: No hard feelings, okay? We really needed the exposure so we could get booked for more shows. Thanks for last night! - H

Another text comes through, and you think you might be fucking sick when you read it. It’s a link to a news article for…Jujutsu Journal? Stupid ass name, but it’s a gossip blog so what did you expect? 

The page has screenshots of a very familiar scene. You and the models in the bath. You and Utahime on the bed with your heads thrown back in ecstasy. A blurred pic, censoring what may be the dirtiest of all – you bent over the bed on all fours, with your face buried between Utahime’s legs while Shoko (and her lilac colored strap) destroy you from behind. 

Where the absolute hell would they get these?!

The headline reads:

TAKING RELATING TO THE PUBLIC TO A WHOLE NEW LEVEL! Head Public Relations manager for one of Japan’s top fashion magazines is in quite a pickle! This morning Jujutsu Journal received EXCLUSIVE footage of her in various intimate positions with models Shoko Ieiri and Utahime Iori! Rumor has it these two are already booked and busy. Meanwhile, it looks like this Public Relations manager may soon be booted and broke! Want to see the tape? Click here to sign up for exclusive members only access!

The pieces begin to connect, your mind flashing back to just last night. The camera is right where you left it the night before. Well, where Utahime left it. But when your fingers push the button to open the tape cartridge, you find it empty. All the footage from the night before is gone! You feel like you may faint. All these years of being so careful, at least twenty steps ahead. All the progress you’ve made…gone.

And not just that! Now there’s a sextape of you three floating around the internet! Is that why Utahime was fumbling around with the camera? Why Shoko went out of her way to distract you? So that she could buy Utahime time to turn the camera on and hit record? Is that why they showed so much interest in you in the first place? Everything is beginning to make more and more sense, while simultaneously making less and less sense. You’re so confused.

“What the fuck?” You mutter to no one but yourself.

Your phone buzzes. You’re scared to look, but you know you should.

“What…the…fuck…” You still can’t believe this is happening. To you of all people.

Your eyes see the name light up on your screen. It’s your boss.

There’s no way you’ll be able to spin this one. 

[indecisivemuch]

Cupids in Converses

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Valentine's was rolling up. You and Luke played Cupid on Percy and Annabeth. But what if playing matchmakers gave both you guys and your unspoken feelings the nudge that you guys have always needed? (Fluff, friends to lovers, happy ending)

Warning: sort of cliché, but it's Valentines so.

Note: Valentines got me in the mood of writing something rom-com-ish. Let's just assume Luke wears red converses that looks like Maia in the show. Also, I've been incredibly busy so I kinda rushed through this one to post it on time for Valentines.

Word count: 4.1k (whoops)

February has always filled the air with some sort of sugary chemical. Everything seemed sweeter like a pink filter had been put over the world. Some may dislike the upcoming February holiday, but it was perhaps one of your favorite times of the year. 

Why? You were somehow blessed with the skills of getting people together and nudging them just enough to cross the line they needed to. So far, you have managed to help six couples get together. With Valentine’s right around the corner, the urge to play cupid grew to the point it was itching your hands.

“Well, compared to the Chimera on Monday, Medusa on Sunday, could have been a lot worse,” Percy was quickly interrupted by Annabeth. 

“Medusa was Saturday.”

“I thought Sunday?”

“No monsters on Sunday. Monday, you died in a river.” You squint your eyes at the conversation that Percy and Annabeth were having. The familiar bells rang in your head; you could practically hear them roaring at you.

“Right, so Medusa on Saturday…” 

“Woah, guys, what’s this?” Luke interrupted. “When did you turn into an old married couple?” Percy and Annabeth both grew slightly flustered at the Hermes counselor’s words. Muttering a few things here and there, the two kids quickly excused themselves and walked off from you and Luke just to avoid the topic in general. You slowly turned towards Luke and peered up at him.

“Surely…” you spoke cryptically.

“Surely what?”

“Them!” you gestured to the direction that Percy and Annabeth had headed off to. You kicked a small rock with your Converse and watched it tumble away. “Surely we can give a little nudge?” you trailed off, bumping into Luke’s shoulder.

“You’re not seriously gonna play Cupid on them, right?”

“No, I’m not…because we are,” Luke let out a loud breath, hands on his hips as he peered down at you. However, you could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. 

“Sweet girl, I adore you, but why not let things run their course?” you hope he did not see the physical reaction over that nickname because, internally, your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh? And you’re telling me those six couples from before would have gotten together without me? You know I’m right about this kind of stuff. I can usually sense it. Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Uhm…you get to spend time with me?” you decided to answer, grinning up at Luke when he gave you a feigned unimpressed look. “Please, besides, you and Percy are close, so it would help a lot. I already have a plan and I need your help for it.”

One look into your eyes, and Luke knew he was doomed. For some reason, you just can make him do anything you ask. Luke could feel the hands on his hips slowly slipping as he looked into your eyes.

“Fine.”

Stage 1: Get Percy to realize his feelings cause he’s blind as hell

It was midnight and everybody else was asleep except for you and Luke. The two of you were in the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible.

The two of you were making some fortune cookies for your plan. However, there was a tiny twist to the treat you two were making. You had personally printed out a couple of prompts that you wrote yourself in hopes they would nudge Percy into realizing his feelings. 

“Really?’“Romance is in the air. What you’re looking for is right in front of you’?” Luke read out the small piece of paper that you printed. You pulled the cookies out of the oven when they were ready.

“It’s cliche and sort of obvious, but hey! It’ll work because it’s Percy I’m working with,” you quickly pulled the paper out of his hand to put it in the fortune cookie before folding it into shape and letting it cool down.

“Mhm. He’s gonna realize you’re trying to play cupid.”

“Are we talking about the same person? I doubt Percy would realize. Annabeth would, hence why I’m not trying this on her.”

Luke helped you out with a couple of other spare fortune cookies that you two intended to keep for yourselves.

“Alright, finally done,” you muttered, washing your hands. However, you were caught off guard when Luke dipped his hand in the bag of flour on the counter and smeared some on your cheek. Your mouth hung slightly at this, and you looked up at him challengingly. You wiped your hands with a hand towel, “Oh? Is that how we’re playing it?”

“...No…” Luke sheepishly replied, a grin growing on his face when he saw the look of mischief creeping on your face.

“Game on, Castellan,” with that, you dipped both of your hands in flour and chased after the tall boy, who was sprinting around the counter. You caught up with Luke and compromised by smearing flour onto the back of his shirt first. At your attack, he turned around and smeared some more across your face from your other cheek to the top of your nose. You immediately did it back to him.

“Ok, ok, I surrender,” he coughed in between quiet waves of laughter after you smeared some from his cheek down his neck, marking your last attack.

For a moment, Luke and you stood in silence, but when you two let the state of one another sink in, laughs echoed throughout the room again. Luke was able to stop his laughter first, though he was still wearing a wide grin. He washed the flour off his face and dried it with kitchen tissues as you muttered: “Oh, I wish I had a camera. I could practically blackmail you with that photo.”

“I have no doubt you would have never let me live that down,” while replying, Luke also approached you and started wiping the flour off your nose before moving to your cheeks. Your laughter slowly faded as your cheeks heated at the feeling of his hand on your skin. He was looking at you so tentatively. Callous hands - a reflection of his remarkable title as best swordsman - delicately holding your face as if you were the rarest diamond to exist.

Something about this moment felt so domestic. Luke allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that this is how it would feel like to be with you and share cute moments like these together. Luke unbeknownstly let out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in as he made eye contact with you. 

However, the moment was interrupted by another camper who yelped upon seeing you two in the kitchen. The presence of another person caused you two to spring apart. “I’m so sorry, I’ll leave,” the camper muttered, clearly abandoning their plan of stealing food and sweets in the middle of the night. Luke coughed to break the silence.

“So what’s the plan after giving it to Percy?” Luke asked, looking down at the fortune cookies before picking one up and munching on it.

“Hopefully, he’ll finally realize his feelings, and when he does…Percy will come to you, for sure.”

Stage 2: Romantic gesture

You were right, Percy came to Luke for dating advice. As you planned, Luke suggested that Percy make a flower crown for Annabeth. Hence, here the Hermes counselor was - with Percy as he picked out flowers for Annabeth.

"I'm gonna need you to guide me on this 'cause I've never made flower crowns before," Percy muttered as he picked out California Poppins, Annabeth's favorite. Luke grinned at this. He found it interesting how the young boy already knew. "Maybe you could make one for someone special too?" Percy said, his voice somewhat unsure. 

At the young boy's words, Luke froze. The first person that seemed to pop into his mind when Percy said that was you.

"I mean, might as well, right? It's for Valentine's. Maybe you could give it to someone who means a lot to you and makes you happy?" Percy spoke, though there was something instigative about his tone.

Happy. The word bounced in between the walls of Luke's mind. Once again, the first thing that flashed in his head was you. Then, a surge of images came running from memories of you two. He almost could not remember happiness before you. A warm feeling embedded in his chest as he pictured your smile. Just seeing you happy seemed to do it for him, like you could spread happiness to him by just looking at him. You were like the first glimmer of daylight after a cold night. He subconsciously smiled at that thought.

You have always made him feel loved, even though he knew you were probably doing it platonically. However, he would gladly take any form of love that he could receive from you. Every day, waking up and knowing he had you in his life was good enough for him. Maybe he should try giving you more hints. Maybe you'll finally see it. Perhaps Percy was right with the flower crown idea. 

“Uhm, sure,” with that, Luke decided to take some of your favorite flowers into his hand and went to a nearby table, where he started guiding Percy on how to make a flower crown. However, ever so often, his mind would trail to its own thoughts whenever he focused on making this flower crown for you.

Percy watched Luke as the older boy started intensely working on his own flower crown, crafting it with so much care as if it was an artwork intended for a national museum. If Percy didn’t know better, he would think Luke was a perfectionist.

Meanwhile, you were sitting with Annabeth near the ocean where she had previously pushed Percy into the waters, leading to Poseidon claiming him. You asked, “Any plans for Valentine’s Day?” 

“No, you?”

“Nope.”

“Oh?” she replied, though you tilted your head at the tone of her voice. “I’m just surprised,” Annabeth explained as she looked out at the ocean instead of at you. “I mean…I thought you and Luke…”

“Huh?—”

“Well, I mean, you two are together all the time, and there seems to be something going on —”

“What do you mea—”

“It always seems like you two would gravitate to one another. I just assumed you two were together already—”

“We’re…just friends,” you settled on saying, though you could hear your heart beating loudly, seemingly echoing near your chest and neck. Of course, you knew you had feelings for Luke. However, you have always ruled it as a silly little crush.

“...You sure? You sound really unsure,” Annabeth challenged, making you sigh. 

“I mean, he’s really sweet, and nice…”

“Uh-huh”

“And he makes me laugh all the time…”

“That’s good,” Annabeth’s words echoed as you sunk into silence and started reflecting on who Luke was to you. He has always made you feel cared for. Out of everybody at camp, perhaps he was the one you were most comfortable with, never having to be afraid of being yourself. Almost all of your favorite memories at camp included him in them. 

You remember the night you told him about your minor fear of the darkness and how he promised to always protect you in it. In a way, since then, he has become your light. You always felt lit up when he made his way to you. Your eyes are always drawn to him like a moth to its flame. Then, it finally dawned on you how serious your feelings were. You realized how most of the time you seemed to be mindless about the existence of your heart until Luke was around because it was only then that your heart would tug or race to run you breathless. You gulped as your eyes darted around slightly. 

“I mean…maybe…” you started but snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Luke’s voice. And there it was again, the silly familiar tug your heart was doing just from his voice. “Hey…” you greeted Luke and Percy before noticing Percy with a flower crown in his hand. 

“Annabeth, can I speak to you privately?” Annabeth stood up and gestured for Percy to lead the way, presumably somewhere, so the young boy could give her the flower crown and ask her out on Valentine’s Day. You remained seated, still pondering at your feelings and wondering when they had exponentially grown that much. 

“I actually have something for you as well,” you finally looked up at Luke when he said this. You noticed he had his hands behind his back. Something about the way he looked now seemed so shy and timid, which was unlike the outgoing and confident boy you always knew.

Your mouth fell agape when he pulled out a flower crown made of your favorite flower. “Luke…” you said his name and stood up when you saw the item.

However, because your eyes were on his gift, you didn’t notice the way Luke’s breath hitched at the sound of your voice calling out his name. He never thought it was anything special until November two years ago when you said his name while laughing at one of his jokes by the campfire. It was probably a moment you did not remember, but ever since then, he felt so sure that he was named so because the name sounded like it was born just for the sole purpose of being sounded from your lips. 

“I made this for you,” he muttered, though it sounded almost like a whisper. His eyes shifted to both of your Converses instead of at you. Something about this made him so nervous as if he was handing you his heart instead of a simple gift. He almost scowled at himself for acting like a boy in kindergarten, confessing to his crush.

If only Luke was looking at you because you were looking at him and the item in awe. Your cheeks flushed from his gesture. Though, you were somewhat glad he was not looking at you because you were sure one look at you right now would tell Luke exactly everything about your feelings. You were a blushing mess. “Luke, thank you so much. This is beautiful. I can’t believe you made one for me.”

You touched Luke’s hand that was holding the crown, and he almost grew an even deeper shade of red. “Put it on my head,” you instructed, and he obliged just like everything else you would ask. He was sure he must have caught a sickness or something for wanting to follow you this blindly. But you were perhaps the only one with the power to get him to do absolutely anything. Just as the crown touched your hair, you peered up at him, and the sight alone made Luke swallow nervously. 

You looked breathtaking.

And he meant this literally because Luke felt like he stopped breathing for a second. He could not look away. That was until you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him. His arms wrapped around your neck almost immediately to return the hug as if they existed to only hold you. 

However, unlike the hundreds of hugs before, this one felt different. It was as if something had shifted and was bound to unfold.

Final Stage: Valentine’s Day

Annabeth had said yes.

You were ecstatic to learn that the young girl had agreed to go on a Valentine’s date with Percy. Even though you didn’t want to intrude, you and Luke decided to just have a peep to see what Percy had planned. You were not planning to stay long. It was just a sort of reward or a way to see your plan grow into fruition. You smiled when you spot the cute picnic date near the shore.

“See, I told you the plan was going to work,” you muttered as you tiptoed up in your converses to peer at the kids through the tall bushes nearby. You almost lost balance and step onto Luke's shoes that were similar to yours, except his was red.

The boy quickly steadied you with his hand on your waist. You muttered a quick thank you before turning back to the kids, trying to ignore the blush that was slowly decorating your cheeks. But you were quickly caught off guard at the sight of Percy and Annabeth pushing a small boat off the shore and hopping on it.

“Uhm…that is not what I expected. Where are they going?” Luke looked over your shoulder when you said that. Your eyes fluttered at his warm breath hitting your neck. 

However, you noticed the two kids looking like they were in trouble and panicking as they quickly started rowing away. You turned your head towards Luke, forgetting he was very close to you. Your voice faltered as you were about to utter your next sentence. Noticing this, Luke turned to you, only causing the two of you to come face to face with little distance in between. You gulped and forced yourself not to glance down at his lips, “Do you think they’re okay? Should we follow them? I mean…what if they’re in trouble?”

Seeing the worried look on your face, Luke frowned. He deeply disliked anything that caused that kind of expression on your face. Hence, he decided to go over to the second boat there and started pushing it towards the water. “Come on,” you hopped onto the small boat with him and started rowing after Percy and Annabeth, hoping to help them from whatever trouble they were seeming to have.

After a few minutes of rowing behind them, you saw Percy and Annabeth rowing into a small tunnel. Luke and you quickly followed in, rowing your boat, only to be engulfed by darkness upon entering the tunnel.

The wind blew much harder in there, causing goosebumps on your arm as your hand gripped your oar tightly. To make matters worse, it was your most hated type of darkness - utter pitch black. Even with your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could see nothing, not even Luke. 

You were fine with darkness in familiar places like your cabin, where you knew at least there were other campers around and you were safe. You were also mostly fine with darkness where you could see as your eyes adjusted to it. But here, you were in a tunnel you’ve never been in, where there were possibly monsters that could attack you at any moment. 

You were slightly startled by the hand that softly touched yours that, unbeknownst to you, was crushing the wooden oar. You immediately recognize it was Luke’s hand from the warmth and familiar touch. He soothingly ran his thumb across your hand. His actions were proven effective at calming you down when you could feel your grip loosen around the tool.

“Breathe, sweet girl,” his words somehow made you release the breath you were subconsciously holding.

A few seconds later, the lights were turned on. You were met with one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen. Lights were decorating the path throughout the tunnel. There were also plants and trees with extended branches and leaves that softly brushed past the boat Luke and you were on. 

Suddenly, you both heard a tune start playing quietly in the background, almost quiet enough to make you two think you were imagining it:

“There you see her, sitting there across the way.

She don’t got a lot to say, but there’s something about her”

His thumb hasn’t stopped rubbing over your knuckles even though the darkness was no longer casting over the both of you. His eyes were absorbing how you looked at that moment, embracing it. You were absolutely stunning and he was hopelessly infatuated with you. 

“And you don’t know why, but you’re dying to try

You wanna kiss the girl.”

The lyrics made Luke subconsciously lick his lips as he pictured himself kissing you. Gods, he wondered if his heart would even survive doing so and whether anything would ever surpass getting to kiss you. Your eyes flickered to Luke's lips, and he noticed it. He also noticed how your cheeks flushed as you gulped at his actions.

“Luke.”

“Y/N,” you almost melted at the way Luke was saying your name as if it was an honor or privilege to do so. The tone he used was sweeter than any dessert you have ever had. Gods, it was as if your name was a sacred passage he lived by.

“Yes, you want her

Look at her, you know you do”

Indeed he was looking at you, and it felt almost like he was spellbound because he could not take his eyes off you. Right then, you could see it all - he was utterly smitten. He was giving you a soft smile. The lights decorating the tunnel shimmered in his eyes, illuminating just enough to display his pupils and how they almost completely overtook the usual dark brown color that you love. Before you knew it, he was leaning closer to you on the small boat and you mirrored his action.

“Possible she wants you too, there is one way to ask her…”

Just when Luke was inches from your face, he stopped. His eyes longingly stare at your lips like a long-awaited dream that was within his grasp but not quite within his grip yet. You noticed how he took a deep breath as if mustering all the drops of courage he had. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before he opened them again. 

“Can I?” he uttered only two words, but somehow, his voice conveyed enough the yearning coursing through every inch of his body. Luke gulped as he restrained himself from closing the distance and waited for your consent. 

You nodded wordlessly.

“It don’t take a word, not a single word

Go on and kiss the girl.”

Almost instantly, he caressed both sides of your face and sealed the deal.

All the glory Luke has gained throughout the years seemed trivial compared to kissing you. It almost convinced him that everything he had gone through to get here today was worth it. He hummed against your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. Kissing you felt like the best gift he had ever gotten in his entire life. Luke knew he was forever screwed from the way it felt. He could not fathom the idea of his lips ever touching anyone else’s. Maybe they were made for you, but his heart and mind do not seem to oppose that idea.

You slowly slid your arms down, allowing your hands to caress his jawline and the sides of his face. However, your hands slightly jolted at the pace of his heartbeat along the side of his neck. It was as if his heart was trying to break out of his body. Your own heart started replicating the same rhythm. It had you flustered that you had such an effect on him. 

Luke broke away from the kiss breathlessly. For a second, he hated the idea of needing air to live because if he could, he would not have stopped showing you how much his lips belonged to you. His forehead leaned against yours while his hands rested on your hips. He looked at you endearingly as if he could not fathom that he just got to kiss you. You smiled at the sight of him.

“I know I’m a tad bit late, but will you be my Valentine?” he sweetly asked. 

“Of course, Luke.” Luke grinned at your answer. He drew you in for another kiss as giggles escaped your lips and echoed through the tunnel that now marked an important memory for the two of you.

You truly must be Cupid because your plan not only worked for Percy and Annabeth, but somehow also indirectly gave Luke and you the nudge you both needed.

14th February marked the day when two Cupids wearing Converses got their happy ending. 

Bonus:

“I told you that would work,” Annabeth whispered to Percy as the two hopped back onto their boat with a speaker in hand, rowing away hastily to be out of sight from the older couple.

Little did you know, Annabeth had orchestrated the whole thing, including the conversation between her and Percy about their mission in front of Luke and you. Annabeth’s plan of getting Luke and you together through playing cupid together had seemingly worked just like she had planned.

Who said you were the only cupid at Camp Half-Blood?

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

masterlist

join my Luke Castellan taglist

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[somekndofpeople]

:: I am tumbling back into busy holiday weeks so I may be Mia time to time the rest of this month. But I’ll be around if not with my laptop then on mobile checking in and doing what I can/have energy for during down times.

[kumkaniudaku]

Sorry 2024

Summary: This is Terry's sorry for 2024. He ain't gonna mess up no more this year.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: None

Previous: *Askew

Pastel blue light filtered through linen curtains and filled the quaint kitchen while Patrice maneuvered between the refrigerator and nearby counter. She spoke a mile a minute, running through a laundry list of important tasks and updates to keep Terry aware of the day’s needs. 

He halfway listened while he scarfed down piping hot oatmeal to satisfy post-workout hunger and used his index finger to scrub backward on game film from the previous week. His receiver core was shaky at best. They’d need to tighten up in the final game of the season if they planned to start their playoff run strong and remain in the hunt for a the ever elusive state championship.

“Honey, don’t forget I’m driving your truck to work because you’re getting my oil changed during your lunch. Where are the keys?” The sugar-sweet lilt in her voice reserved for Terry and Terry only went mostly unnoticed by her husband. 

“Yeah. That’s good, baby.”

Patrice paused packing her lunch and shifted her weight to one side with a hand on her hip. “You’re not even listening to me.” 

“I heard you,” he answered, finally looking up. 

“What did I say?” 

“That you’re taking the leftovers. That’s good with me. I’ll grab something on base.” 

“I said that fifteen minutes ago. Strike two.” 

Terry’s mouth hung open for a half second as he thought back through their one-sided conversation. Admittedly, his mind was split into a million different streams of thought. Work problems, coaching responsibilities, household bills, the incoming holiday season, and its host of arrangements all fought for his attention day in and day out, leaving little room for intentional quality time with his wife. 

For Patrice, the indifference toward her when she talked to him was frustrating and getting old. On too many occasions she’d forgiven him for staring off into space or flat-out ignoring her when she spoke. If silence is what he wanted, she was well on the way to granting his wish. 

Swallowing down a gulp of water, Terry rushed to respond. “Woah, woah! Two? What was the first?” 

“I asked you to turn the dryer on last night while I took a shower and guess who woke up to wet clothes this morning? C’mon. Guess!” 

“Oh, shit.” Terry’s face contorted as he winced at the memory finally returning. 

“Oh shit. Go away.” She mocked with an exaggerated deep voice before rolling her eyes and making a face. Mimicry, in his experience since the tender age of 15, was usually the prelude to a vicious attitude that had turned many into sworn enemies for life.

“My bad, Treece. I started wa-” 

“Watching tape and forgot. Sing me a different song, Terrence.” 

The disappointment etched in her beautiful features sent Terry’s stomach into the soles of his feet. Patrice’s full lips sagged into a heavy frown as she wrestled food containers into her lunchbox without looking in his direction. He could take her mumbling her anger or sending more than a few curse words his way. But the sadness in her silence was too much. 

After pressing pause on his screen, Terry took measured steps toward Patrice to avoid disturbing an angry lion. 

He touched her hip first to test the waters. When she didn’t reject him, he moved in to take up space behind her and pull her back against his body. He pressed a soft kiss behind her ear. “I won’t make excuses. Forgive me, sweetheart. It won’t happen again.” 

Resistance faded slowly but surely as he nuzzled his nose into her neck between kisses. Tense muscles melted under his touch, relishing the extra attention meant to settle a disagreement. Anger fought to remain the chief emotion. Everything in her wanted to continue forging a war path until she was satisfied with the destruction. But she’d always had a weakness for this man with a smooth baritone and big hands that he loved to rub up and down her body.

She kissed her teeth before turning to plant a kiss on his cheek as a silent truce. “Whatever. You’re lucky I like you more than most other people.” 

“What I gotta do to get that like to a love before you leave the house?” 

Patrice pulled Terry’s bottom lip into another kiss and smiled. “It’d be great if you confirmed you used your mama’s Costco card to get the study hall snacks like we talked about.” 

Terry froze. For days he’d had the nagging feeling that he was neglecting a task. Something important but vague among all of the other thoughts and responsibilities swirling in his head. He’d hoped for a reminder, but not like this, not on the heels of wriggling his way out of Patrice’s wrath only moments before. 

Ever perceptive, Patrice didn’t need him to speak to know that he’d, once again, missed a memo. Anger was back from its short hiatus and making her body hot to the touch in a way Terry had been spared from his entire life. 

She fought to wrestle free from his grasp, her body thrashing until he relented and let her go. Terry watched her stomp around the kitchen, snatching items from the counter and forcing them into her bag on her way to the front door. He remained hot on her heels with pleas to make things right on his lips until she stopped short at the coat closet.

“Strike three! You’re so fuckin’ selfish sometimes, Terry, I swear.” She grumbled as she swapped her car keys for his on their shared personal items hook. “I thought you would grow out of that by now but here you are, damn near 33 years old, and still doing the same shit.”  

The dig at his past transgressions stung more than Terry expected. He tried to maintain his composure though the wounded man inside wanted to get to the bottom of why she’d chosen to toss such an insult out so casually. 

He took a deep breath to quell the combative questions clawing through his throat while he watched her shrug on her coat with spite in her eyes. “Look, I messed up. We don’t need to start throwing jabs back and forth. How can I help?”

His attempt to reach out for her hand was thwarted once she snatched away to yank open the front door.

“Terrence, the time to help was early this week. Hell, last night even. I don’t have time for your sorry this morning. I gotta go figure this out by myself yet again.” 

Immense guilt attached itself to Terry, producing a heavy heart as he tried to make sense of Patrice’s most venomous blowup to date. Never had she been so crass toward him, not even when he deserved it most. She’d always been the pinnacle of grace and forgiveness. What scared him most was the suspicion that she was more unhappy with his disappearing act than she’d let on in all their honest talks about their path forward after heartbreak. Half of him wanted to chase her into the early morning chill, stop her from leaving, and convince her to call in so that they could sort through every issue, past and present, until they were back on the right side of newlywed bliss. Rational thought told him that some things were best solved through action.

Bitterness fueled the remainder of Patrice’s day. Jokes in the breakroom were no longer funny. Her class clowns were less charming by fourth period. A fierce bout of irritability resulted in a pop quiz for her senior AP English class for not participating in the group discussion to her liking. Every second of every minute carried a dark, heavy cloud that she couldn’t shake. 

She wanted to scream at Terry until her chest caved in from exhaustion. She wanted to throw things across the room, destroying every item in her path until the sting of compounded letdowns, actions he wasn’t even responsible for, was distilled back into the tiny box of rage she kept tucked away in her heart. She kept it hidden on purpose. If it ever got loose, there was no guarantee she could fix the damage it left behind. 

Once school bells had rang and children were carted off to their respective homes, Patrice sat behind her desk with a small committee of cheerleaders congregating in her classroom. She kept her focus on grading the mountain of quizzes she’d created for herself, silently ready to give everyone extra credit for the attempt. 

“Ms. Ellis,” Alana, her captain, started as she dusted Doritos remnants from her fingers. 

Mikayla cut in. “It’s Mrs. Richmond now. She got married! You see her ring.”

“And you ain’t invite us?” Alana gasped, pretending to be offended. “That’s cold Mrs. Richmond. I thought we were cool.” 

“We’re cool, Lana. I didn’t know I was getting married until it happened. No one was invited.” 

“Can I at least see that big ol’ diamond up close?” 

Young girls with fairytales and romance novels seared into their perception of love begged for a chance to see Patrice’s wedding band up close. With more energy, she would shoo them away and redirect them to the bulletin board they abandoned to snack and gossip amongst each other. But arguments before work were taxing and all she could bring herself to do was push away from her desk and join them in the center of their circle with her hand outstretched for their inspection.

Oooh, ahhs, and everything in between overlapped as each young lady took her turn running their fingers up against the clear stone and white gold band engraved with her new initials. 

“I want me a ring just like this!” Camille explained as she took a picture to send to her boyfriend. 

“Can we see your husband? Is he nice like you?” 

Patrice paused. “Uh…yeah. He’s a nice man. You all should be with nice boys, or girls, or whoever you like. Don’t allow anyone to be anything less than nice to you.” 

“Okay, but can we see him,” another girl reiterated. 

“It’s Coach Richmond, duh,” Mikayla exclaimed. “They got the same last name. And they was in this old yearbook together. I saw it in Ms. Shields's class when we were having a yearbook meetin’.” 

More oohs and ahhs, this time fawning over the new football coach on campus and the picture Mikayla had saved to her cellphone. Patrice listened to them gush over the thorn in her side as she eased into a desk to take the pressure off her aching feet. 

Camille looked between the photo and Patrice with a smile. “He was your boyfriend when y’all went here?” 

“For a little bit. Right before we graduated. But we broke up that summer.” 

“How come?”

“He wanted to go to the military and I wanted to go to college,” Patrice answered after a deep sigh. “So, he went his way and I went mine because I wasn’t changing my mind. Remember that. Do what you wanna do. You have a whole life ahead of you.” 

The girls all mumbled some version of their agreeance before another question pushed the tea session forward. 

“Then how did y’all get married. He came back?” 

Patrice smiled at the memory of Terry standing on her porch that fateful summer morning. “Yeah. He just…came back. We talked and never stopped talking after that until he became my husband.”

“Did he say sorry at least?” 

“He always says sorry. All the time. He’s nice like that.” 

A chorus of swooning ‘awws’ rang out in the classroom and escaped into the hallway. Terry was nice like that. It didn’t matter that Patrice wanted to hate him and call him every name but a child of God. He always apologized and he always meant it. 

A distant smile covered Patrice’s face as she twirled her wedding band around her finger. 

Camille took the opportunity to poke fun at her coach. “Aww, look at Mrs. Richmond, y’all. She smiling big! You gon’ let him come to the AP Christmas party?” 

“That ain’t fair! I’m not in AP English and I wanna see him.” 

“Oh my God, we all gon' see him at the games. Calm down.” 

“Alright, alright, alright.” Patrice couldn’t contain her laughter at their eagerness to meet a man two times their senior with no interest in them outside of their connection to her. “Maybe you’ll meet him one day. Today, I need y’all to hurry up and-” 

A knock at the door interrupted Patrice, bringing her attention to a tall, slender young man who instantly turned heads. He smiled bashfully at all the ogling until Patrice redirected his eyes with a wave of her hand.

“What’s up, Deanté? You leave something in here?” 

“Nah. Coach Rich told us to bring some stuff to you. Where you want us to put it?” 

“Umm, I guess you can put it back here by my bookshelves,” she directed, pointing to the back of the room. Confusion created fine lines on her forehead. “I’m sorry, what’s happening?” 

Deanté shrugged in the way only teenaged boys too cool for school could before waving in the rest of his crew. Each of them came bearing the gift of snacks, carrying boxes of wholesale goodies to their intended place like worker ants serving their queen. Chips, cookies, pretzels, juices, and water stacked high along the wall instantly turned her quaint classroom into a stockroom until they’d delivered the final package. Bringing up the rear was Terry with flowers in one hand and a carryout bag from Patrice’s favorite bakery in the other. 

Pressed khaki slacks and a cotton polo fighting for dominance against his veiny bicep should’ve thanked him for making them look better than they ever could alone. Patrice wrestled her gaze away from his long legs to look away before she ended up flustered in front of impressionable children.

He lightly knocked against the door, his gaze soft and his smile welcoming. “May I come in?” 

Like the audience track from a 90s sitcom, young girls squeal in his presence, making him chuckle. Patrice rushed to control the madness. 

“See, this is why I have to keep my eye on y’all. Head to the gym and warm up. I’ll meet y’all down there.” They groaned their displeasure in a last-ditch attempt to buy more time with Terry. She re-emphasized her instructions. “Go on. For every second I have to keep looking at y’all after I’m done talking, that’s a lap. One, two, three…”

Quick feet and the threat of additional exercise cleared the room quickly, leaving Terry at the doorframe waiting for permission to enter. Patrice stood and straightened her turtleneck before inviting him inside. 

“Come in. Close the door behind you.”

Terry did as he was told in silence, hoping to appease the Queen in her castle. Patrice tried to remain stoic as she approached her portable lectern to thumb through the day’s notes and lesson plans. He deposited the flowers onto a nearby shelf then slid into a desk at the front of the class and waited for her to at least acknowledge him beyond a fleeting glance. 

Finally, she looked up and pointed at the white bag resting in front of him. “Is that for me?” 

“Yeah,” Terry smiled. “I haven’t seen you grab one in a while so I hope you still like the cinnamon roll. If not, I got the lemon loaf too. Your other favorite.” 

After all those years separating their adulthood from an entire semester of sneaking away during lunch for a warm, doughy signature roll, Patrice couldn’t believe Terry still remembered such a trivial detail. 

She bit her bottom lip to hide a smile as two short steps took her to the desk beside him. Metal creaked against the floor while they turned to face each other in seats too small for Terry who had come a long way from his high school physique. 

Terry watched Patrice quietly remove her treat from the bag and cut it in half with a plastic knife. She carefully placed one side on a clean napkin and passed it across the small gap separating them. 

She lifted her portion into the air and smiled a friendly smile. “Cheers?” 

“Cheers.” 

Their respective hunks of roll kissed the other briefly before they took big bites to satisfy early afternoon cravings. Terry chuckled as Patrice hummed her satisfaction with her eyes closed and shoulders lifted near her ears. 

A little piece of Heaven. He was happy to provide anything other than the strife he contributed hours earlier. 

“Thank you,” Patrice whispered once the delight of her first bite had passed and her eyes were open again. “It’s still my favorite. You were right.” 

He didn’t respond past a small nod and a small half smile as he watched her enjoy another bite. His thumbs nervously twiddled around themselves while he wrote and erased apologetic statements in his mind in a search for what to say next. 

“Treece, I can’t say enough how sorry I am.” 

“We don’t need to do this. I overreacted and threw things in your face.” She started, trying to stop the uncomfortable discussion before it could start. 

Terry remained steadfast. “No, you didn’t. You called me out and it was the right thing to do. I have been selfish and you’ve caught the brunt of that for a long time now. It’s not fair.” 

“I just…fuck.” Tears that Patrice had managed to keep at bay during work forced their way past her waterline before she could stop them. She dabbed at them with a napkin and took a deep breath. “I’ve had to be really independent for a long time. Relationships didn’t stop me from doing things on my own because they convinced me that asking for help made me weak. Then you came along and immediately took on more than I could’ve ever asked.”

“That’s what I’m here for, baby.” 

“Yeah, but when you stop all of a sudden or pick and choose when you wanna help, it makes me afraid that one day, you’re gonna stop altogether like everyone else. And I really, really can’t take you being like everyone else.” 

Another layer of Patrice had been shed to leave behind an emotionally raw, vulnerable woman searching for an anchor in her life. The tears were gone, but they left evidence of deep-seated hurt on her face. 

Terry reached across his desk for her hand which she offered without protest though she refused to look him in the eyes. He kissed her knuckles softly, paying special attention to her ring finger before lacing their fingers. 

Sad eyes looked across at her. “You’re my main priority. If you want me to drop all this extra shit, I’ll do it in a heartbeat. Say the word and it’s gone.”

“I don’t want that. Be honest with me. Listen to me. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Okay,” he spoke into the inside of her wrist. “Give me a chance to be better.” 

“You already are.” 

Where misunderstanding has once festered, a flower of progress bloomed. They’d traversed uncharted territory as a unit to find common ground that would lay the foundation for years to come. 

Patrice made the first move toward reconciliation, standing from her desk to meet Terry at his side. Her hands cupped the sides of his face, tilting his head up to hers as she stood over him. 

“I love you. Always. I might still be a little miffed, but I’ll get over it. Promise.” She landed a flurry of kisses on his forehead and he accepted while he wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“I understand. I’ll earn your trust again.” 

Fuzzy feelings and chaste affection in what they believed was a safe space were cut short when a small yelp and thud sent a group of girls crashing to the tile floor, pushing her door ajar.

Patrice giggled along with Terry as she turned to get a look at the spectacle. “That’s what you get for being nosey. Now get to the gym for real this time.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Richmond,” they all chanted as they scrambled to stand and scatter. 

Terry listened for them to exit hearing range before turning back to Patrice and leaning up to kiss her lips. 

“I’ll be done with practice at 6:30 sharp and come straight home. Don’t worry about dinner or anything else. Let me handle it.”

“No problem.”

Final kisses and another promise to be home on time sent Terry and Patrice in opposite directions with optimism pumping through their veins. Tomorrow would bring its own storms and issues to work out. But, those were tomorrow’s problems. 

Today, they’d lick their wounds and settle next to each other on the couch with love in their hearts and the taste of each other on their lips to make every hard time worth the end result.

-----

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[cupidzgf]

CHRISTMAS MORNING | SATORU GOJO

☁︎‎‎‧₊˚ summary: satoru wakes you up on christmas morning to open presents. its 7 am and you want to sleep.

cw: mentions of sexual activity, non sorcerer au, rich!gojo, no pronouns, no smut, fluff, all of it is fluff. w/c: 1.8k a/n: my first post in a long time. ahh kinda nervous I hope you like it! merry christmas eve!

christmas was an occasion that satoru always went above and beyond to make special.

whether it was for his sake or yours, he made sure there was no way to get out of decorating his place, baking cookies, or matching christmas pajamas. not that you mind. you savored the time away from work to bask in each other's presence uninterrupted and entirely devoted to the holiday, but what perhaps made it even more so was the slow wake of your lover beside you.

his hands, warm from where they were pressed against your midsection during slumber, trace the curve of your spine. his fingers dip between the knobs of your vertebrae gently as if trying to rouse you as well. it works because your mind slips from your unconscious state into consciousness with the kisses he presses at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. sensing the shift in your stirring frame, his kisses grow in numbers as they rise up the column of your throat, lips brushing and pressing with varying pressure on previous faded marks.

you lay on your side, facing away from him, and satoru practically climbs on top of you just as your eyes flutter open to get your attention to fall solely on him.

in the blink of an eye, you're met with an infinite void of vivid, azure irises peering at you with an expression you can only describe as childlike.

"it's christmas." a dimpled grin beams from his too-wide smile, devouring your lips in one fell swoop before you can protest. satoru vibrates with excitement, and he pours every ounce into the kiss, holding your face with a giddy glee. "merry christmas."

a sleepy grin of your own curls at your lips as you try to regain your breath from the overwhelmingly passionate kiss you just received before speaking softly in an admiration-filled voice. "merry christmas, toru."

you lay there, admiring your boyfriend, as he practically jumps off the bed and pulls your arm. "c'mon, we have to open presents! pleaseeee," he whines impatiently, tugging at your hand like a small child. you groan, still exhausted from the long night at suguru's house, and attempt to roll over.

suguru's christmas eve party the night before had left both of you exhausted, though the way satoru acts, you would never have guessed. your friend was never one to skimp out on these rare get-togethers with your friend group, formed from years enrolled at the same college. the holiday atmosphere and the rich decor lulled you into christmas cheer, which always made for great nights of booze, food, and rekindling. dripping in wealth satoru insists on buying for you, the two of you made it back in the early hours of the morning, drunk and worn out from socializing.

this, however, did not stop satoru from fucking you into the bed like he had been deprived of your touch (he had clung to you the entire night), where you both passed out after a single round.

now you're paying the price for the long night as his eyes widen comically when you avoid him. he rushes to stop you by throwing himself over you and, despite your protesting, makes you face him.

"nah, uh, where do you think you're going? it's christmas! we have presents from santa–"

"--he's not real, baby. let me sleep a couple more minutes." you chime back, and his expression drops with a huff.

"you don't know that! and we only will when we look under the tree," he states jokingly, refocusing his abundance of energy on getting you up.

you scoff, raising an incredulous eyebrow. "yeah, like you would be on the nice list."

satoru gasps, loud and dramatic, falling to his knees in front of your bed with a cry.

"how could you say such a thing? i'm the kindest, nicest person you know!" he exclaims, a hand hovering over his heart to further the theatrics, and you can't help but roll your eyes at his exaggeration.

"you weren't very nice last night."

his eyes shift, darkening by a shadow passing over his irises as they gain a mischievous gleam. satoru leans over you despite kneeling on the floor. "oh yeah? well, you didn't seem to mind when i fucked your pretty pussy so hard she was crying and screaming my name–"

"ok, time to get up!" you interrupt, mortified by the vivid personification he used to describe last night, your cheeks set aflame by his teasing. you hide from his cocky chuckle and self-satisfied smirk, embarrassment churning in your gut as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"that's what i thought, sweetheart." cocky bastard.

you rummage the floor for a shirt, the blanket covering your lower half as you throw his santa hat off the first one you can find, which coincidentally is his.

satoru whines sadly when his shirt covers your bare breasts, a frown pulling his lips down as your once naked body, decorated in hickeys, is covered. "what's the point of my hard work if you're just going to cover it?" he gestures to the bruises, pouting with the familiar solum look he uses when he wants something.

"i'm not going out there naked, toru." slipping on slippers, you stand, craning your neck to look him in the eye. your exasperation does not go unnoticed by the white-haired male.

"there's no reason you can't," he suggests, tugging you in front of him and letting his hands settle on your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. "it could be like a christmas present…to me!"

you raise an eyebrow. "i thought you wanted to open gifts?"

his face brightens as he remembers his original goal, his one-track mind making his hand tug you to the door without a second thought and newfound eagerness.

your living room is the same as you left it last night, with your cocktail dress strewn across the back of the sofa and satoru's shoes scattered across the hardwood, but what's different is the snow swirling in slow flakes outside the massive windows. it lands on the window sill, and the rest slowly descends to the world outside satoru gojo's penthouse. the bleak grey does nothing to discourage the sight of the luminescent christmas tree taking up your living room and glittering with a rainbow of lights against the grey sky in the ray of morning light.

a christmas morning crafted from a hallmark movie.

an array of presents ranging in various sizes and shapes overflows from under the tree you decorated weeks ago, and before you know it, you throw yourself into your lover's arms. a teasing remark sits at the tip of his tongue, maybe to poke fun at your elation, but he hesitates, fingers twitching at his side. in a moment so delicate it could be shattered like glass, he frames every second of the scene into memory, holding the warm and achy feeling in his chest close.

arms circle your body pressed tightly into satoru's, butterflies erupting from your stomach when you glance upwards and find him already staring.

"thank you," you muster every ounce of sincerity into your voice, swallowing the lump forming in your throat when he returns your gentle smile with his own.

"don't thank me yet. you haven't even seen what i got you!" effortlessly, he turns your attention away from the raw and achy emotions being pulled to the surface and onto you, where your eyes sparkle with eagerness.

the both of you find a seat on the floor and begin the seemingly endless presents and discarded wrapping paper; the laughter and joy that can only come from christmas morning echo off the walls you call home. and when the gifts are opened, and the faint tune of falling snow is all that's left, you are sure it can't get any better.

even as satoru nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, his lips parting to whisper the words on your skin that have never been uttered in a moment of complete clarity. "i love you."

it somehow becomes perfect.

bonus:

staring at your mountain of gifts, ranging from designer to everything under the sun you mentioned wanting during the year, piles around you, and the thrill of being spoiled by your filthy rich boyfriend quickly wears off into guilt.

was his presents thoughtful? yes. overwhelming? also yes. especially since neither the price nor the quantity of gifts you'd given him come close to what you have. so the shame of being spoiled and unable to provide the same, in turn, quiets you into an insecure ball of nerves.

"do you like it?" your heavy gaze lifts to find him, and he squirms where he sits, uncharacteristically nervous. he waits for your reaction with uncertain eyes, wringing his hands together to calm his apprehension. "i tried to get everything you wanted, but i know how you feel when i overdo things…"

"satoru," you breathe, looking over the gifts once more. the following words come in a gentle coo he's come to recognize are used to let him down easily. "i do love everything, but it is a lot. you didn't have to spend so much."

frowning, your gaze flickers to him, and his eyes dip, avoiding yours. "ah, okay. i didn't mean to upset you," he murmurs in a quiet, saddened voice, and you quickly shake your head, realizing he took it the wrong way. shuffling on your knees to where he sits, you fall into his chest. solid and well-defined arms circle your body without a word, and you hear the distinct sound of his breath hitching at the contact.

"never. you're too good to me and treat me so well, baby, but you don't have to spend all your money on me."

"trust me, i didn't," he teases, attempting to regain the lighthearted atmosphere, before adding in a more hopeful tone, "but i'm glad you like your gifts."

"oh yes, the lingerie set was especially thoughtful," you joke, and he cracks a smile at that. only your expression falls a moment later when you clear your throat. "i just hope what i got is okay. i know you've been asking for a new watch and those glasses, but it's hard to find gifts for someone who has everything. i'm sorry i didn't get you more."

the sad murmur and downcast expression made satoru's heart crack, remorse twisting his stomach into knots. "no, no, no baby, i love what you got me. i couldn't be happier with all of your thoughtful gifts." he kisses the top of your head, resting his head on yours for a quiet moment of admittance that makes you fall in love with him all over again. "but everything i want is right here with you, sweet thing."

[judeslove]

surprise visit

pairing - jude bellingham x gn!reader genre - fluff, bestfriends to maybe lovers ??? (if i do a pt2) warnings - petnames (darling, love, etc), intended lowercase, swearing summary - this req

author’s note - i’m so sorry for not posting for like idk 5 days?? i’ve been really busy with christmas and all but hope you enjoy <33 also i got a new phone :))

pt1 >> pt2

you and jude went all the way back. you met in daycare, the good old days. ever since then, you have done and shared almost everything together. ranging from doing homework to even cuddling. many of your friends shipped you, but you never felt it. the spark. until this very day.

the holidays were just around the corner, specifically christmas. you always celebrated christmas at home, but this year was going to be different. you kept in touch with jude, but didn’t meet up with him frequently.

you made up a master plan at night. first, you would text jude that you can’t make it to his house this year but then, you show up on his door. excitement grew in you as you moved your fingers along the keyboard.

you:

sorry, i can’t make it this year ☹️☹️

jude:

there’s always a next year darling

the petname gave you butterflies in your stomach. that’s unusual, you thought. you packed everything you needed and headed outside. the cold and slippery weather almost killed you, as you nearly slipped and probably avoided a coma.

the gps said that it will approximately take 2hrs to jude’s house, which made you groan in frustration. when your mum drove there it didn’t take that long, you swore. the road was filled with people, as it was almost christmas.

the snow under your boots crunched as you made your way the the frontdoor. you rang the door bell and saw a shocked jude standing in front of you. you let out a quiet giggle as he wrapped his long arms around your waist.

“you’re here!! you said you wouldn’t make it though?” jude said in a questioning tone. he looked at your face, scanning for any answers.

“i wanted to surprise you” you smiled. he looked confused, but also somewhat happy or excited.

you stepped your feet inside his cozy house, warmness immediately welcoming you from the cold biting weather. as you made your way to the kitchen you saw three gingerbread houses.

“three gingerbread houses? what are you gonna do with ‘em?” you asked. a grin made it’s way to jude’s face.

“eat them, of course” he simply grinned. he looked satisfied, but then concerned.

“oh no!! i forgot the cookies!” jude yelled as he rushed to the oven, lifting up slightly burnt chocolate chip cookies.

“bloody hell, why does this always happen?” he said in disbelief. you let out a chuckle, laughing at his disappointment.

💌 judeslove on tumblr.

[monstrouslyobsessed]

love’s lethal bouquet

concept: in which the floral shop boss is in love with you—and isn’t a human. —momster

—a/n: well i havent posted in ages because of how bad my writers block was :( and i’m vvvvv iffy about this one. this is much more subtle and tamer than my usual too, but at least its something for the valentine’s day?

anyway, ima try and tackle a commission i owe next so please take care yall&lt;3

—tw / tags: gn reader, implied drugging intention, implied teratophilia, implied exophilia, general yandere themes, sfw.

—featured character(s): the floral shop boss / plant monster (implied)

Valentine's Day proves to be one of the busiest days at the floral shop where you work. Breathing in the heady floral scents that permeate the store, you find yourself in continuous motion, assembling bouquets of pink roses, carnations, violets, and every red flower known to man into the van. With your back straining from the constant lifting, you absently listen to the gentle voice of your boss reassuring an irritated customer about their belated delivery—

and you wince.

Although you should be in a rush taking care of the deliveries, you tiptoe inside the back of the shop to avoid interrupting your boss—

But he merely hangs up the phone upon seeing your flustered face.

“S, sorry—” You begin.

He shakes his head with a gentle smile playing on his thinly bearded lips and says, “Don’t worry about it, love.”

The way he addresses you as ‘love’ used to bother you. It always seemed so…formal, old-fashioned, but coming from him—your boss—he somehow makes it work without needing to force the romantic undertone. Perhaps it is because he is on the older side and being a foreigner in this little town of yours.

The town lies deep within the trench of an endless forest, and you wonder how your boss had found his way here.

His arrival several years ago stirred many gossips about him, with him keeping his lips sealed about his past, but everyone slowly warmed up to him. His succulent blooms, never seen before even in the gardening magazines, certainly helped. Now, your boss is a familiar face among the townspeople, with very few not knowing who he is. And, of course, his handsome and charming demeanor won the hearts of many too.

“But I would’ve made the deliveries on time if I didn’t eat brea—” you try.

His piercing green eyes soften as you nervously fixing your rolled sleeves. You halt when he suddenly leans in.

“Boss—?” You rasp at the new weights on your shoulders, trying to pay no mind to the strange dark strains on his thick fingers.

The way he held you was almost…fond—

And he pushes you outside to the doorway. “Go finish the deliveries, won’t you?”

“Really?” You huff, trying to ignore the red tinge to your cheeks and the heavy thumping of your heart.

Your boss smiles that damnable handsome smile of his and pats you on your head, saying, “Get to it. The sooner you finish, the sooner I can give you your little Valentine’s Day bonuses for working so hard.”

While giving his employees gifts during holidays and special events is not new to your boss, you still perk up in eagerness and reward him with the biggest smile you can muster. As you dart away with a confident promise to complete the deliveries, he watches you scurry to the van, inhaling sharply,

“Soon.”

Your boss murmurs, rubbing his knuckle with his other hand—as if to hide the sudden green spot on it. Tiny vines emerge briefly, before he rubs them away and pivots back to his cash register where his impatient customers have started to queue. Flashing them with a dazzling smile to reassure frustrated customers with a wordless apology, your boss absently peers over to his office.

There, on his desk, is the special bouquet he prepared for you and only you.

Imagining you burying your face into the fragrant cluster of your favorite flowers, oblivious to the true intention of its purpose, the toxic drugging qualities meant to lure you into his arms—into his ivies and his binds of vines and creepers—had him biting back a shudder. Restraining himself before the antsy crowd, your boss rings up a customer with an invisible countdown ticking in his head.

A countdown to have you.

The blooms nearby writhe and shudder, with most dismissing it as mere breezes from the air conditioner.

It was not.

—end…?

[pinkkittysaw]

pairing: mike schmidt x gn! reader

summary: you save the holiday with some chinese food

word count: 1,864

content: fluff, established relationship, reader is celebrating american thanksgiving, no use of y/n or gender specific pronouns. pure self indulgence due to the stress that the holidays give me

a/n: based off an hc i had where mike can’t roast a turkey to save his life. this was written, edited and posted all in the same day so PLEASE be kind 😔 i watched the fnaf movie twice in three days i think i have a problem. anyway ty josh hutcherson for ending my writing slump DJDJDJJD 🙏🏻🙏🏻

dividers by @/firefly-graphics

"Shit," Mike hissed through his teeth, hastily pulling out the very well-done turkey from the oven and placing it aside on the counter as a bloom of gray smoke erupted and filled the kitchen air.

A muffled "swear" is heard from the living room, a faint pout forming on the young girl's lips. Her bouncy brunette curls are tossed from side to side as she peels her eyes away from the Thanksgiving parade on TV to peer over her shoulder and chastise her older brother for his "transgressions". 

"Sorry," he grumbles, pulling out a dollar and sliding it into the lid of the makeshift swear jar Abby had made. The money will end up back in his wallet at the end of the week anyway, so he offers no pushback against the girl.

More smoking from the oven ensues, flooding the kitchen and living room in an ashen veil. It's only a few seconds later that the grating beep beep beep of the fire alarm begins to go off, the noise ringing all throughout their home.

"Too loud!" Abby yells, covering her ears with both hands as she bounds toward her bedroom to try and escape the noise.

When you roll up to Mike's house, pushing through his front door with both hands occupied by the plastic bags of processed carbs and fat you bought for the night, you're greeted to him bouncing up and down on a dining room chair, one of his ears tucked into his shoulder as an attempt to spare his eardrums from the blaring sound as he wildly reaches for the smoke alarm stuck to the ceiling. 

You're quick to place the bags down on the kitchen table, doing your best to avoid inhaling too much of the smoke. With the oven already turned off, you rush over to the windows, opening them up, and grabbing a discarded shirt that was left on the couch to air out the two rooms as best as you can. 

You smile up at him, and after a few more attempts, he successfully snatches the alarm from its place on the ceiling, unceremoniously pulling out the batteries as he hops down from his elevated position, then tosses both the alarm and its components onto the counter, alongside his multiple failed side dishes. 

"Hey," he finally greets and exhales, letting go of the breath he was holding while he wipes his brow, small droplets of perspiration accumulating on his forehead from the impromptu workout session.

It was clear that he was having quite the day. With Abby having the better part of the week off from school and Mike wanting to prepare all of Thanksgiving dinner himself, to say he was a little stressed would be an understatement.

"Hey," you respond back,  grinning as he runs his fingers through the dark curls that sit atop his head, similar to those of his younger sister.

You peer over his shoulder at the mess of dishes and other burned food before making eye contact with him once again, nudging your head toward the bags still on the table.

"Got the Chinese food."

A look of relief washes through his face as he makes his way over toward you, cupping both cheeks in his palms and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

"You're a lifesaver," he mumbles into your hairline. 

A giggle worms its way from between your lips when you state, "Always am."

It's not like Mike was a bad cook, per se. You've witnessed him cooking for Abby on multiple occasions, even sometimes for yourself as an apology on nights he came home later than expected, but to say he was a good cook was also a bit of a stretch, at least when it comes to meals made solely from scratch.

His specialties were breakfast foods and simple meals, ones that don't require more than five steps, like tomato soup, mac n cheese, frozen pizza, grilled cheese, and so on and so forth, with his best dish being spaghetti and meatballs. Though you were determined to sit him down and go through the step-by-step recipe for your homemade meat sauce so that he wouldn't have to keep buying the store-bought crap. 

Regardless, when discussions of Thanksgiving plans arose, Mike suggested getting Chinese as an absolute last resort. So you were prepared when you eventually received the phone call from him earlier on that day "to resort to Plan B" as his "cooking endeavors kept going from bad to worse."

You could tell he was anxious about the whole thing. It was your first Thanksgiving together as a couple after having been Abby's sitter for a few years. He wanted it to be perfect. He and his sister never had much time or drive to celebrate the holiday as "families should", (his words), due to his work and money situation. It just didn't make sense for him to prepare a huge feast for the two of them and put more than a minimal amount of effort into cooking when most of the food would end up in the fridge for weeks on end. Uneaten due to texture changes after the food had been cooled, refrigerated, and then eventually warmed up again.

Ever since, their tradition has been Chinese food, something they both enjoyed and could get delivered if need be.

You reassured Mike over the phone earlier that morning, while twirling the spiral cord of your landline around your finger, that it didn't matter what type of food you ate, whether it was roasted turkey and mashed potatoes or crab rangoons and fried rice, it was about being together.

Abby peeked out of her room a few minutes later as you and Mike set the table, laying out three paper plates and setting the various dishes in the middle of them. The young girl is quick to crash into you, pulling you into a bruising hug—a bruising hug that a ten-year-old girl can manage. 

"Hey Rugrat," you chuckle, ruffling her hair. "Got your favorite."

"Really?" she beams, bouncing on her heels slightly as she peers up at you with big eyes.

You kneel down til she's at eye level with you and whisper in her ear. "Don't tell your brother, but I got an extra order of crab rangoons just for you." She tries to stifle a giggle at the shared secret between you two, barely able to contain her excitement as you rise to your full height once more, sending her off with a wink and a tap on the back to wash up before dinner, taking note of the extravagance of her cute little outfit as she bounces down the hall to the bathroom. She was always the little fashionista, as you frequently compliment her on her choice of color blocking, but it's only when setting up the table for dinner that you notice that both Abby and Mike are dressed up as well.

He's sporting one of his "nicer" sweaters. It's a deep maroon color, one that's most likely been stashed away and hidden in the back of his closet for occasions such as this. The sweater is coupled with a pair of his least faded jeans.

Despite the earlier frazzles, Mike looks good, all things considered. He appears significantly less tired; his umber eyes are bright and attentive, the dark circles are subdued. Even his hair was styled, his curls set in a distinct pattern rather than ruffled and combed through with his fingers five minutes before walking out the door to go to work. It was cute how much effort he was putting in to make this holiday special for the three of you. Something that you wouldn't let go unnoticed.

While Abby is taking her time washing her hands, you round the table to where Mike stands, cup his cheeks, and pull him in for a sickly sweet kiss. His lips are chapped, but only slightly, due to your insistent scolding of him for never using enough lip balm.

His eyes are slightly glazed over when you pull away.

"You look handsome," you tease, giving a light pinch to his cheek as he continues to gaze upon you with a lovesick look.

"Don't you start," he smirks, removing your hand from his face and placing it back by your side.

"What?" You feign innocence, shrugging your shoulders while raising your palms in defense.

"I can't compliment my own boyfriend now?"

"You know what you're doing," he chuckles, shaking his head from side to side as he pulls down three cups from the kitchen cabinet, filling each with the soda you bought alongside the food.

You're about to retort when Abby makes an appearance in the dining area once more, eagerly sitting down at the table in anticipation while Mike finishes with the drinks. 

You sit down beside her and admire the cute Thanksgiving decorations that are plastered all over the fridge. Various multi-colored feathered turkeys, along with a multitude of autumn plants and vegetables, are hung amongst her other drawings with random letter magnets.

You had become a big feature in her regular artwork alongside her brother. The pictures often depict the three of you together, with her in the middle and you n Mike on either side of her. You always took the chance to marvel at her artwork whenever you could, always commenting to Mike that he's got a talented little artist on his hands whenever she was within earshot. 

You're amazed at how quickly the three of you became a little family, a welcomed addition to the two of them despite your worries early on about how Abby would react to you having a different role in her and her brother's lives outside of being her sitter.

Although it wasn't verbalized as articulately as she would've liked, she was glad that her brother had someone to look out for and care about him as he did for her. It also helped that you were way more fun than he was.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Mike plops down in his seat across from the two of you.

"Still can't believe you don't like egg rolls," he mutters, motioning in the direction of his sister before taking a huge bite of the eggroll in his hand, leaving a satisfying crunch in his wake as his teeth sink into the fried food.

"And I can't believe you have such bad taste," she sticks her tongue out at him playfully as he scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"She's still young, Mikey. Her palette still has time to develop."

"Mikey?" Abby quips, quirking a brow toward her brother.

"Eat your food or you get no dessert." His skin turns a slight tinge of pink as the blush crawls up his neck and blooms over his face, clearly embarrassed at the discovery of his petname.

Abby gives you a knowing look, and the rest of dinner is spent trying to muffle your giggles and snickers. Despite the laughter being at his expense, Mike wouldn't have it any other way. The mess in the kitchen would be cleaned up later; right now, he just wants to cherish the moment.

[neobastard]

tnt addressed a lot of my concerns last night about the future of the plot in the AMA last night, here are some of the highlights (via jellyneo):

more time will be needed to implement changes, so the holiday break was the perfect time to work on them. it's not an ideal decision, but one made to make the experience better for both the players and the team and avoid overwhelming everyone.

the shorter release schedule mentioned above isn't truncating the plot, but instead accelerating the pace at which chapters come out. that was one of my biggest concerns and i'm so glad that it's not being rushed for the sake of a time table. i'm also interested in the resources shift to revamp the pace of the plot on a weekly basis.

this is one i actually made a post about, but codestone inflation is being combated by increasing the drop rates in the regular battledome and increasing the amount received from the quest log (used to be 1-2 beige codestones per day).

episode 2 will have a heavy focus on puzzles, and new items will be available from all channels (comics, battledome, and prize shop). this is honestly what i'm excited for the most, the new items from the comics are my favorite part of the plot currently. the break will only be a few months and will return in Q1 of 2025 (anywhere between january-march, so 3-5 months depending). the FAQ mentions that we'll get an official date as we get closer to it, so my bets are on late februrary/early march.

all in all a very informative AMA, a lot of my worries about the future of the void within have been eased and i'm glad that the team has time to breathe so they can make this experience better. i'm excited for what's to come!

[sanccharine]

14:30 | mm

pairing: assassin!momo x handler!reader

summary: good speakers are good liars, too bad momo is neither. co-written by @eternallyghosting chapter summary: momo spends the day with you

warning: sickeningly sweet, like makes me want to throw up actually

word count: 2.5k

a/n: assassin!momo is here because indigo works hard af. literally she wrote everything, again i didn't do jackshit for this part, didn't even open docs until yesterday lol. im just here to post and disappear like avatar aang, again :]

masterlist

You cursed as your oven timer dinged for the third time, barely managing to shove your hands into heat proof gloves before hurrying to take the baking tray out of the steaming oven. This had to be your sixteenth batch of heart shaped cookies, an apparent Valentine's day tradition. A cliche, more like, you rolled your eyes. 

Although this influx of orders was no doubt good for your growing business, you were just about ready to gouge out your eyes if only to avoid looking at pink food colouring again.

You sighed, at least after this last order for Mr Moyo, you'd be done for the day. As you busied yourself with measuring the flour, something you could do in your sleep now based on the amount of times you'd made this exact recipe, the front door slammed shut. 

Momo. Hearing the loud slamming noise would've given you a headache in any other situation, but not today. Today Momo had promised to give you a break from doing the dishes after seeing you knee deep in orders since the morning.

You hadn't even realized how tired you were until she came up behind you and laid her chin on your shoulder. You took a break from kneading and pulled her closer. Sensing your fatigue, Momo wrapped you up in her arms, gently turning you around and laying a soft kiss on your lips. 

"Rough day?" 

"Mmm," you didn't bother with a more coherent response. Momo got it anyway.

She gazed around at the heart cookies, with their light pink frosting and red and white sprinkles, and snorted, "I don't really get why people would want these."

A beat. 

She rushed to add. "Of course not saying that because it's your baking! These look great babe, you've done a really good job on the decor." She cupped her warm hands around your cheeks, emphasizing that she didn't mean anything by what she'd said.

You shook your head, "It is a silly holiday."

"Exactly! That's what I meant," she kissed your cheek in apology.

You settled deeper into her hold. The dough could wait. "But still, it's kind of sweet that people celebrate Valentine's day," you murmured.

Momo could be quite dense sometimes. You had to often spell things out for her. But this, your unmentioned plea, she understood clearly. Maybe it was the exhaustion making you more sensitive than usual. Or maybe it was the sentimentality of the holiday that made you melt against her arm as she brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Tell you what, you finish up this last batch and I'll run you a bath. How does that sound?"

That did sound great. You gave her a grateful nod as you added, "there's extra frosting in the fridge if you want to try some." 

Momo hurriedly disentangled herself and gave you another kiss before rushing to the said fridge. Perhaps it wasn't just you feeling the sentiments of the holiday. 

With renewed vigour, you managed to toss the new batch of cookies in the oven, having to wait only for a couple minutes before filling up all your used dishes with soapy water. Although Momo had promised to do them for you, you couldn't just leave them be without rinsing atleast a few.

You trudged upstairs, where your nose was immediately met with the soothing scent of lavender, from the bath salts you had gifted Momo a few months ago. As you slipped into the bathroom, Momo turned to face you.

"So my next flight isn't for another few days."

You nodded silently, focusing on throwing your flour stained shirt into the laundry basket instead. Momo and you had discussed her flight over dinner last night so you didn't know why she was bringing it up again.

"I was thinking we could do something together."

Now that got your attention. You lifted your head and asked with a hint of a smirk, "I thought you said Valentine's day was a shitty occasion."

"I didn't say it like that! And also this doesn't have to be for Valentine's day," she added. "It could be just a date."

"Okay," you shrugged. You would do anything if it meant spending more time with Momo.

She perked up. "Great! I'll plan it out!"

Wait, what?

Before you could ask her anything, she smiled, said "Enjoy your bath!" and left, closing the door behind her.

As you enjoyed your much needed soak in the tub and made your way out of the bathroom, you found Momo hunched over on the bed with her glasses on and laptop in hand. You smiled to yourself. She hardly ever wore her glasses, so she must be taking this date planning very seriously. 

As you crawled into bed, she turned her screen towards you and pointed excitedly. "Look!"

You took a look at a website showing various people with axes in their hands. Before you could ask about what Momo wanted to do with a Thor convention, you caught sight of the title at the top of the screen.

Axe throwing. Huh.

"Seems fun, doesn't it?"

You tore your glance away from the laptop to Momo's face, grinning widely and awaiting your answer. You were looking at her, but you weren't really seeing. The only thought in your mind was how cute those glasses looked on her. You really had to make her wear them more often.

"You're adorable," you blurted out as she nudged you for an answer.

Stifling a giggle, she rolled her eyes. "I'm taking that as a yes." And right away, she booked a slot for the two of you. You settled under the covers quietly, not really having any objections but also not expecting her to be so proactive about this date.

"There, all done. It's in the evening tomorrow." She put her laptop away on the bedside table and joined you under the warm duvet. 

Not that the duvet stayed settled for long as her words jolted you up. "Wait, tomorrow? I can't tomorrow, I have to deliv—"

Momo took your hands, silencing you in the action. "I know, you have to deliver the cookies. But we could do those on the way to the facility."

You weren't convinced this easily. "What if someone isn't at home? What if we can't deliver some of the orders?" 

She shook her head. "The time slot I booked is their last one. It's at 8 pm, which gives us plenty of time to make the deliveries, even if someone isn't home in the morning," she emphasized the end of her sentence to lay your worries at ease.

Kissing the hands still in her grip was the cherry on top, as you finally settled down again, content that Momo had it all planned out. She laughed quietly as she turned to face you, the faint yellow hue of the night lamp casting a glow on her face. "I wouldn't have booked the slot without making your deliveries happen, babe."

"I know, I just like having a plan." So what if your handler tendencies bled over into your regular life, having a plan was never a bad thing.

"You and your lists and schedules…"

"Hey, at least I'm not the one getting lost in a city because I can't read out the itinerary made for me!" It was a bit of a deep cut to bring up something that had occured on vacation years ago, but you couldn't resist teasing her.

And Momo retaliated by doing what Momo did best. When at a loss for a verbal attack, she mercilessly moved her hands up and down your sides, tickling you until your feet kicked and squirmed in the blanket.

She only stopped when you finally cried out for mercy, ceding victory to her if only to be able to breathe properly. Having eventually caught your breath, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to situate your torso over hers and wipe off the smug smile on her face with a deep kiss.

"Goodnight, babe. I love you."

"I love you too. G'night."

True to her word, Momo had done all the dishes last night while you had been in the bath, and walking into a gleaming kitchen almost made you want to get on your knees and sob in relief. You loved baking, but cleaning up after was often the hardest part, something you absolutely had to be particular about no matter how tired you were.

You turned on the coffee machine just as the sounds of Momo rustling around in the sheets reached your ears. You were content to just stay in and share a cup of coffee, enjoying the morning sunlight streaming through the windows onto your kitchen counter. You looked around your carefully curated kitchen, at all the designs you had insisted on, knowing that it would be one of the places you spent the most time in. Your eyes landed on the pile of trinkets in the corner, stubbornly making themselves known in the pristine marble decor of the kitchen. 

Despite your hatred of the mismatched colour scheme, that corner held a special place in your heart, after all, it contained all the little things Momo had brought back from her trips around the world. The woman was talented in many areas, but interior design was decidedly not one of them. She would buy whatever she thought looked cute, irrespective of whether it was something that would fit in your kitchen or was needed by you in the first place.

Still, you couldn't bear to hide it away. As your gaze landed on the porcelain soap dish Momo had brought back a few weeks ago, you had to stifle a laugh at the memory of that particular day. All things considered, it wasn't even as horrendous as some of the other things she'd purchased, but her reasoning for buying it was what had you stumped. You remembered her ravenously eating forkfuls of the pie you had made to celebrate her arrival (and the difficult mission you knew she'd undertaken), before she had sprung up from her seat to haphazardly search through her bags.

Having found what she was looking for, she had tossed the dish towards you, and beamed as though expecting praise for her 'thoughtful' purchase. You couldn't lie, the gift had you bewildered for a good couple of minutes as you wracked your brain trying to recall why this dish would be of particular significance to you. Momo had impatiently gestured at you to turn the dish over and "look at the back!", where you found a 'Made in Greece' stamp over the dish. Although that gift had greatly confused you to the extent of looking like the human equivalent of a keyboard smash, it brought a smile to your face knowing that Momo carried your love of Greek myths with her wherever she went.

The subject of your thoughts bounded down the stairs just as you wrapped up that precious memory. Her hair was mussed up from having rolled around in bed, and her bleary eyes indicated that she wasn't fully awake yet. But to you, she had never looked better. You loved Momo like this, all soft and pliant in the morning, making you feel like you were in a never ending Sunday. 

You must have taken a second too long to acknowledge her, as she whined at not immediately receiving her good morning kiss. You moved towards her and obliged, before getting a hold of her wrist and gently dragging her off to where your twin coffee mugs stood, ready for a lazy start to your day. 

The rest of your day went by similarly in a haze, with you dividing your time between wrapping up your final orders, and making the most of Momo being home. Once the admittedly long and lazy breakfast was over, you enlisted Momo's help in reorganizing your closet, getting rid of items you didn't use anymore. Then, after hastily vacuuming your bedroom, the two of you made a quick lunch of enchiladas (well, you cooked and Momo tried not to get in your way), before settling down on the couch and scrolling through Netflix for a new show to watch.

You sighed contentedly in her hold as Momo, eventually tired of trying to find something new, clicked on the long memorised sitcom favoured by you. As your eyes glazed over the familiar scenes, you lauded your past self for closing off orders even though Valentine's Day was still two days away; you got to make the most of your time while Momo was still home.

By the time the afternoon hues of the sun had started to darken to twilight, you had already finished a season of the show you had put on, as well as two cups of tea and a bowl of popcorn. Deciding to clear up a bit, you turned off the television with a groan of protest from Momo, before eventually tugging her off the couch and upstairs to get ready for your deliveries.

Momo had been right in booking the 8 PM slot for your date, and as you watched her carefully load all the orders into the backseat of your car, a serene feeling washed deep in your bones. All it took really was a four letter word.

Home.

Time.

Love.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Momo asked as you slid into the passenger seat.

You had an absent smile on your face as your fingers drummed against your thighs. "Mm, just thinking of how all it takes is a four letter word."

Momo leaned over, grabbing and fastening your seatbelt for you in a swift motion. "You're thinking of 'sexy', right?" she smirked.

You felt your cheeks being pulled upwards as the absent smile blossomed into a full one. "I was thinking more of 'dork' but okay."

"Nerd."

"Fool."

"Rude."

"Mean."

The two of you traded back and forth before Momo suddenly said, "Y/N".

"Hmm? That's not how—"

"I love you," she giggled. This time it was you who leaned in, pushing forward as much as your seatbelt would allow, and sealed her giggles with a kiss. "Wife," you murmured against her as she pulled you in closer upon hearing that fall from your lips, a revered whisper.

Despite everything in you screaming not to, you eventually pulled yourself away and let Momo start the car. You settled in your seat, putting a hand over your heart to calm it's racing, but to also feel how strongly it beat. For Momo. While the pair of you weren't really convinced by the traditions of Valentine's Day, and scorned at how the town had blown a quarter of its budget on tacky pink and red decorations, you couldn't deny just how full your heart had felt today. How it felt everyday you were by her side.

You had your own traditions with her, of course you did, honed after years of being together, but it all boiled down to one thing, a simple four letter word: Momo.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: happy valentines day y'all, tell people that you love them !!! or don't, or tell them that you hate them lol, idk don't let me tell you how to spend your day :P

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @happilychaengs

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Wild Luxury date translation + video with sub EN

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

The slightly cool fingertips keep teasing and rubbing my wrist. In an ambiguous and ticklish feeling, the silk ribbon is tied into a bow.

My hands are completely restrained.

“If this student has no objections, then let's begin-”

“From now on, use your body's intuition to find the answer.”

”Give your body completely to me.”

[Warning]: The content of this date is borderline explicit and may not be suitable for individuals under the age of 16 (CN server). It is recommended that those who do not meet this age requirement refrain from proceeding beyond this point.

[Video + English subtitle]

(T/N: I highly recommend watch the date in video format or following the voice acting for complete experience.)

[Transcript ver]

=Part 1=

MC: The engagement banquet has been canceled?

I stand there in shock, watching Lucien take the steaming iron from my hand and turn it off.

Lucien: Hm, Xiao Fan just called and told me about it.

A trace of regret flashed across Lucien's expression. I open my mouth, so shocked that I don't know what to say for a moment.

The purpose of our trip was to attend the engagement banquet of Xiao Fan and Xiao Su, researchers from the Ultima Bioresearch Centre.

Since they met through Lucien's research project, they invited Lucien to be the witness for the engagement banquet.

We also arrived at this famous glamping hotel a day early to coincide with the rehearsal.

We had planned to spend a pleasant weekend here after the banquet, but now...

MC: Did something unexpected happen? Did they fight? Was it an impulsive decision? Or is there some other reason?

Seeing me keep asking questions, Lucien seems a bit helpless. He leads me to sit on the sofa where he sits down with me.

Lucien: I admit that the Great Producer is indeed very imaginative, but none of these are the reason for the cancellation of the engagement banquet.

Lucien: Their reason seems to be very simple.

Lucien: -When they finally reached the stage of engagement, they realized that they could no longer avoid the issues that had been left unresolved in their relationship. They needed to work together to resolve them.

Lucien: So they decided to take a break for a while and calm down.

MC: …The reason is so sensible, huh?

MC: But when it comes to your rigorous and restrained researchers, it somehow makes sense…

I mumble to myself and see a smile on the corner of Lucien's lips. He crosses his arms and tilts his chin up, looking at me thoughtfully.

Lucien: Seems that MC has some bias toward researchers?

Lucien: How could you forget that you and I have done some "crazy" things together that were not so rigorous and restrained.

Lucien: It seems that the forgetful producer needs to be reminded.

(T/N: call-back to Crazy Date!)

As he said that, he moved closer to me, and his warm fingers twirled the strands of hair near my ears, causing a tickling sensation on my face.

MC: There's no need to bother Professor Lucien~ I admit that I was not rigorous enough and had subconscious stereotypes!

I coyly raised my hands and saw his serious expression turn into a faint smile, only then did I let out a sigh.

MC: Okay, since it's their relationship, we don't need to say anything more.

MC: Shall we pack our bags and get ready to go home now?

Lucien: (chuckle) No need to rush.

Lucien: We can start our vacation here, just as we planned.

I blink in confusion, not understanding what Lucien means.

MC: But the engagement banquet has been canceled. Wouldn't it be inappropriate for us to stay here...

Lucien: Let us stay and enjoy our holiday, this is also Xiao Fan's invitation.

Lucien raises his chin and looks back at the private garden outside the window. The brilliant sunset reflected in his eyes, showing a beautiful glow.

Lucien: They said that because they had to deal with the nagging of their elders, they couldn't get away to appreciate the beautiful spring scenery here.

Lucien: So they entrusted us with the task of cherishing this springtime scenery for them.

I follow his gaze and look out the window, realizing what this "invitation" really means.

MC: Lucien, I sincerely take back the biased words that I just said.

MC: The researchers are not only strict and frenzied, but also understand the ways of the world and romance.

There's a chuckle from behind. Lucien gets up and walks straight to the hanging ironing machine. He then takes down the white shirt I just ironed.

Lucien: Being able to get approval from the great producer, I, on behalf of myself, express this researcher's most sincere thanks.

Lucien: And I would like to extend a formal invitation to you for a deeper understanding. How about it?

As he speaks, he undoes his shirt buttons one by one, revealing the smooth lines of his body.

Lucien: Since my girlfriend specifically picked out this shirt for our vacation, I must make good use of it.

His long fingers move slowly to the last button. With a slight sound, his muscular chest is bared before me, causing me to unconsciously swallow.

But in the next moment, he deftly puts on the white shirt in his hand, smirking slightly and extending his hand to me.

Lucien: (chuckle)So, would you like to go out and take a stroll?

=Part 2=

Our vacation began with an unexpected event.

Amidst the blooming flowers, chirping birds, and wild swans playing in the spring water, it felt like we had stumbled upon a utopia.

Before we knew it, we walked to the venue where the engagement banquet was originally held.

The waiters are removing the venue. They remove the tablecloths and chair covers, leaving them bare. There are many colorful balloons scattered on the grass.

The mix of warm and cozy colors amidst the messy leftovers left me with a feeling I couldn't quite describe. I couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia.

MC: Sigh...I remember when I went to see you at the research institute, and saw Xiao Fan giving Xiao Su a handmade lunchbox.

MC: I also saw them holding hands and going home together several times, with Xiao Su holding a big bouquet of flowers...

MC: They were so in love... how did things come to this?

Compared to my sighs and lamentations, Lucien's expression remains indifferent, and I can't discern any emotions from him.

Lucien: I think there may be a connection between loving each other and sustaining intimacy, but it's not necessarily a cause-and-effect relationship.

Lucien: In the same way, we can't deny the beautiful feelings they once had, simply based on the choices they've now made.

MC: That's true, but for people who were once in love but unable to make it last until the end, they must feel some sort of regret.

I can't help but pout. Lucien is about to move his lips and say something when a loud noise comes from not far away.

As we look around, we see waiters working together to carry a backdrop sign bearing the words "Eternal Love" and walk out the door.

Waiter A: Engagement without engagement is a plague. Back home, it is said that if you attend this kind of engagement banquet that gets canceled on short notice, it will affect your marriage.

Waiter B: Fake or not, it is important to go to the temple to pray and get rid of bad luck.

As they pass by us, they seem to catch a glimpse of us holding hands tightly, and their conversation abruptly stops, leaving the air thick with awkward silence.

I squeeze Lucien's palm. I want to quickly leave this awkward atmosphere.

Suddenly, there is a "crack" sound from behind us, and I instinctively turn my head to see the backdrop sign being snapped in half as it passes by the exhibition booth.

The word "eternal" just happened to break from it, like a wordless declaration, and I can't help but frown at it.

I subconsciously look at Lucien. He looks the same as usual, his eyes only lightly fall on this little incident for half a second and then look back at me.

I'm familiar with those smiling eyes, but for some reason, my mind was disturbed momentarily by the emotions that came out of nowhere.

I struggle to make the tone of my voice rise naturally and mentally tell myself not to think about it.

MC: Let's go, let's go somewhere else and take a look~

In order to shake off the negative vibe, we explore several other scenic spots in the hotel without even realizing it, until we arrive at a wishing fountain.

The sunset pours on the shimmering water, and the ripples are finely divided. A sculpture of the God of Love stands in the middle of the fountain.

MC: "Love wishing fountain, couples who both toss wishing silver coin into the square platform in the fountain, their love will be blessed forever."

I read the introduction plaque quietly and found the coin bank on one side. I eagerly picked up two silver coins.

MC: Although it's a bit childish, since we've stumbled upon it, Professor Lucien, would you accompany me in playing?

Lucien bends his eyes and leans down.

Lucien: How will you pay for this "playmate"?

His gaze seems to skim over my lips, and the end of his eyes is raised in a sly arc. I stand on my tiptoes and give him a quick kiss on the lips.

MC: Is this payment enough?

Lucien: Hmm... it seems a bit lacking in sincerity.

His feigned thoughtful voice was heard next to my ear as he clasped my waist with a little force, the sudden close proximity caused my heart to skip half a beat.

Lucien: So, I need to ask for some additional payment.

As he speaks, he leans down and lifts my chin, using his fingertip to lightly caress my lips.

I almost melt in his intense gaze and unconsciously close my eyes. With a light chuckle, he presses his warm and moist lips against mine.

The tip of his tongue gently circles around my lips before unreasonably prying them apart, bringing a familiar wet and warm sensation.

His hot fingertips slowly trail up from my waist, causing a burst of sensitivity to spread until his palm grasps the back of my head, deepening the kiss.

I have no resistance and can only let him capture my breath.

Lucien: Now, this transaction seems quite profitable.

His heavy breath falls evenly on my lips, creating an enchanting tide of heat. The tip of my tongue is lightly nibbled again before he pulls away from me.

My brain is still buzzing, and the flush on my face has not yet faded.

But my gradually clear mind made me open my eyes wide, and after confirming that no one was around, I couldn't resist the urge to pinch his palm.

MC: Lucien! We are in public place…

Lucien: A "reasonable fee" for public places. Miss, do you have any objections?

He teasingly narrows his eyes. His sly expression makes me lightly hit him on the chest again.

MC: ...I can never win against you!

Lucien: (chuckle) Since I've already charged the "fee", it's only reasonable for me to fulfill your wish.

Lucien calmly takes the silver coin from my hand and walks to the wishing fountain.

He rolls up half of his sleeve and stares at the square platform. The sunlight falls on his eyelashes, casting a small shadow on his face.

At the next moment, he slightly moves his wrist, and after a sharp throwing action -

The wishing coin makes a beautiful arc in the air, drops into the fountain, and lands on the square platform without a hitch.

I can't help but admire the sharpness of his stance, which overlaps with that of the theater bar on the cruise ship not long ago.

(T/N: call-back to Slow Motion Fireworks MQ!)

MC: As expected of "Mr. Challenger", he played steadily as always!

Lucien: I remember that MC's hit rate was equally impressive.

MC: That's all thanks to you. But today's game seems a lot less difficult than the dart throwing.

I said while following the example and mimicking Lucien's posture to toss the silver coin away. "flop"- the silver coin falls into the water, far from reaching the square platform.

MC:...

Lucien: Looks like this lady is a bit overconfident.

Lucien's teasing tone makes me stick out my tongue in embarrassment. I take the silver coin he handed me again, and use double the strength to throw it out.

This time it tumbles down to the other end of the wishing fountain with a clink.

MC: ...Again, too much force.

I adjust the strength, watching as the silver coin finally falls to the square platform this time, but it gets lifted up again by a slight ripple of water and slowly falls from the square platform.

The ridiculous rumors from the waiter's mouth now come to my mind. My heart feels blocked, and there's a vague feeling of unhappiness.

Unwillingly, I walked to the coin bank, but the next second I stood still-it was empty, and the silver coin was gone.

I point to the coin bank with a little bit of resentment.

MC: How can a hotel of this class be so stingy?

Lucien's eyes flicker as if he is holding back a laugh.

Lucien: Do you want me to ask for some more at the front desk?

MC: No need. After all, it's only a wishing fountain in a hotel. If you didn't make it, then you didn't make it.

His thoughtful gaze crosses my face and he glances aside at the introductory plaque.

Lucien: Is that so? I thought MC wanted our love to be blessed for a long time. That's why she worked so hard to throw the coins.

MC: ...I just think that it's fun, and as a scientist's girlfriend, I'm not so superstitious.

Lucien raises his eyebrows non-committally and looks at me with probing eyes. I unconsciously avert my eyes, not wanting him to find my little thoughts

The next second, however, I hear the sound of his footsteps.

I turn my head to see Lucien go to the other side of the wishing fountain, leaning over as if to pick up something, and then shake his hand to me.

The round coin reflects the golden light of the sunset, and Lucien's face is shrouded in a layer of faint gold.

Lucien: But I occasionally want to be a scientist who is so superstitious.

Lucien: So why don't we give it another shot, my Miss Producer?

=Part 3=

MC: ...Oh, how could I forget that there's still another one here~

The surprise spread in the bottom of my heart as I exclaimed in a small voice. I quickly walked towards Lucien and solemnly took the silver coin from his hand.

Sensing his half-smiling eyes, I quickly clear my throat and hold back my little smile.

MC: For the sake of Professor Lucien's invitation, I will try again!

But the moment I'm about to throw it, my thoughts suddenly get confused for some reason, and my raised hand hangs in midair.

Lucien: ...

With a sigh, a familiar scent gathers me into a warm embrace.

A slender hand closes around the back of my hand and gently squeezes the fingers holding the silver coin.

Lucien: (chuckle) MC doesn't seem to understand what I just said.

Lucien: I mean, since I'm the one who's "superstitious", why don't we try it together this time?

I blink belatedly and suddenly understand what he means.

MC: But if we throw them together, doesn't it count as cheating?

Lucien turns his head and gestures to me to look at the introductory plaque with his eyes.

Lucien: "Couples who both toss wishing silver coin into the square platform in the fountain…"

Lucien: The rules don't require couples to throw alone.

He pauses and affectionately presses his forehead closer to mine.

Lucien: Moreover, making a wish is a matter of sincere faith, and it can come true.

Lucien: Don't you think that the combined sincerity of the two of us would be more likely to move the God of Love?

His bewitching voice makes my mind sway, and the inner conflict in my heart begins to waver involuntarily.

Lucien: Then I'll take it as you've agreed.

Lucien: Now, just relax and feel me.

Without giving me a chance to refuse, Lucien has already caught hold of my fingers.

His low and hoarse breath lingers by my ear, causing me to lean back into the embrace behind me uncontrollably.

The warm and soft scent spreads around, passing through my clothes and blending with my scorching body temperature, sticking closely to me.

Lucien: Good, just give yourself to me. 3, 2, 1 -

At the moment the countdown ends, a familiar arc of light flashes and slowly descends toward the lonely silver coin.

On the square platform, two wishing coins are overlapped, emitting a bright and shining light.

MC: Wow, we won!

I can't help but excitedly throw myself into Lucien's arms, and a low laugh spills out from his chest.

Lucien: (chuckle) Doesn't it seem like the less-superstitious scientist's girlfriend is even happier than I am now?

His emphasis on certain words makes me sheepishly raise my gaze, and meet with his teasing eyes.

Realizing that my little thoughts have been completely exposed, I simply act like a spoiled child and snuggle in his arms.

MC: I admit -- I really do want to hit the mark and get some good omens.

MC: After all, the cancellation of the engagement banquet was so sudden, and the rumors that those waiters spoke of made me a little concerned...

MC: Coincidentally, when I saw this wishing pool, I inexplicably fell into the mood of 'must hit the mark'.

Lucien: (chuckle) Is that all there is to it?

The muffled sound of his chest echoes in my ear as Lucien calmly takes over the conversation.

Lucien: Why do I remember a little girl furrowing her brows when the backdrop sign broke?

MC: …You noticed that?

MC: I-I just thought it was a little unlucky that the backdrop was broken at that exact moment, and we happened to see it.

MC: But thinking about it carefully, there's really nothing to be concerned about, really!

Upon hearing my words, Lucien slightly lowers his body, gently looking into my eyes with tenderness.

Lucien: It doesn't really matter even if you mind.

Lucien: The reason why people often care about things that do not meet their expectations is often a reflection of their positive expectations for the things they cherish.

Lucien: The more cherished, the more it is cared about.

Lucien: But I hope that the next time MC makes a wish for something like "eternity" for our relationship-

Lucien: Instead of relying on these external factors, we should focus on ourselves.

His calm voice carries an unquestionable conviction. I gaze fixedly into his eyes, and the jumbled thoughts in my heart are like being gently soothed, giving rise to a sweet feeling.

MC: Professor Lucien is absolutely right. From now on, I will only focus on you and won't be disturbed by any inexplicable external factors.

Lucien: Words alone are not enough to prove it.

A curve forms at the corner of Lucien's lips, and he slightly opens the distance between us. He pretends to be serious as he crosses his arm.

Lucien: I believe that this student's future performance still needs another 'test' to prove it.

MC: Please instruct me, Professor Lucien~

(T/N: This sentence is often used to express a respectful request for guidance or advice from someone in a position of authority or expertise.)

As I stand up straight with the appearance of a well-behaved student, Lucien raises his eyebrows and takes me to a private garden within the suite by the hand.

He inserts the key that matches the room card into the garden lock and opens the door.

The bright light penetrates through the treetops and casts dappled light on the white hammock. The garden is pleasantly fragrant.

Lucien casually leans against the flower rack, and a hint of ambiguous light flickers in his eyes as he looks at me.

I inexplicably swallow my saliva and maintain my inner composure.

MC:  Are we going to conduct the 'test' here?

Lucien: Um. In this 'test', our bodies are indispensable 'teaching tools', so...

His loose-fitting shirt is playfully blown open by a gentle breeze, revealing a vast expanse of skin and springtime sunlight pouring out from his collar.

Lucien: I need a "classroom" that is private enough.

I don't know what he's going to do, but my ears inexplicably feel hot.

Lucien's eyes are shimmering with a deep glow, and his hot palm grips my wrist, pulling me to sit on the hammock.

Lucien: To successfully complete this "test", I need to exercise some teacher's rights first.

The exquisite silver key suddenly hangs from his fingertips, and the amethysts embedded in it shine with a translucent light, barely grazing his alluring chest.

Lucien: Control the testing time and also control any factors that may affect the "exam discipline", which is-

He suddenly pulls out the soft satin ribbon on the flower stand and has already suppressed his smile, his eyes deep and mysterious.

Lucien: -You.

His steady heartbeat quickly envelops me as his scorching breath falls on my neck. I stand still as if enchanted, letting him wrap the soft silk around my wrist, loop by loop.

The slightly cool fingertips keep teasing and rubbing my wrist. In an ambiguous and ticklish feeling, the silk ribbon is tied into a bow.

My hands are completely restrained.

Lucien: If this student has no objections, then let's begin-

Lucien: From now on, use your body's intuition to find the answer.

Lucien: Give your body completely to me.

=Part 4=

(T/N: -if you didn’t listen to the voice in this part you’re missing on a LOT of stuff. I won’t describe every… interesting sounds that he makes here bc that means I have to describe almost EVERY SINGLE LINE that he said in this part. so, please go watch/listen *wink*)

I instinctively moved my wrist and realized that Lucien had tied it tightly. A soft touch suddenly covered my forehead, like a light feather brushing by.

At the same time, the silver key in his hand reflects a fine, dazzling light, and my gaze follows its light arc, and then it falls back to the balance point.

The next moment, Lucien's kiss also ends, and the warmth on my forehead disappears with it.

Lucien: This is my first question. MC can answer now.

MC: ...?

Like a student caught daydreaming during an exam, I stammered and couldn't come up with a coherent response.

Lucien: That means we need to focus on the next question.

Lucien doesn't seem surprised. Instead, he affectionately taps my nose as if it's expected. Then, he applies a slight force on the wrist, and the silver key swings again-

He bends down and takes my earlobe into his mouth, his hot breath brushing against my cheek and sending a shiver down my spine. I squirm and turn my head, tickled by the sensation.

He presses his fingertips against my chin, forcing me to endure his increasingly scorching demands.

Lucien: [subtle wet sounds] This student is zoning out again.

The tips of his teeth playfully scrape against my ear, stirring up a tingling sensation that sends electric currents coursing through my body.

MC: Because it's so ticklish…

I murmur to surrender myself to him, my voice overflowing with sickly sweetness. But he has no intention of letting me go, burying himself in my neck, his moist breath brushing against my skin.

He carefully nibbles, and the dense needle-like sensation brings a wave of heat, making my breathing gradually erratic.

Lucien: What about here, do you just feel ticklish too?

His fingertip falls on my chest, tracing circles in a bewitching manner. I feel restless and want to reach out and hold him, but the frustrating sense of restraint follows closely.

Just then, Lucien withdrew, and the no longer anchored hammock swayed gently, leaving me feeling as if I were falling into a void.

I raise my eyes in confusion and notice that the silver key has stopped swinging at some point. As my vision gradually focuses, a sudden realization dawns on me.

Does each swing of the silver key hold some meaning?

Lucien: Judging by the expression on this student's face, it seems that she's about to find the answer.

As he speak, the silver key sways again and Lucien's kiss lands on my lips once more.

He gently penetrates my unguarded teeth, and I instinctively close my eyes, feeling him roam and lick over every inch of my mouth.

In the tight embrace of our burning breaths, he nibbles on my tongue and lip, causing me to let out a whimper.

Amidst the tender entanglement, a vague thought flickers in my mind, but it is quickly drowned out by his overwhelming presence.

I decide not to think about anything and simply focus on indulging in the kiss, letting his intoxicating scent fill me up with every breath.

Time seems to slow down in this trance-like state as our entangled breaths become increasingly drawn out.

It feels like we've been in this moment for an entire enchanting spring

The sound of the silver key swishing through the air gradually stops, and when I gasp and open my eyes, the pendulum has just returned to its balanced state.

I think I know the answer now.

Lucien: Are you ready to answer this time?

Lucien playfully breathes softly next to my ear.

MC: Professor Lucien has put in so much effort, so of course I can't let you down. However…

I calm my slightly erratic breathing and bite down on the silver key under his gaze.

MC: I want to extend this analogy to other situations.

MC: Can the teacher cooperate with me to check if my answer is correct?

It seems like he didn't expect me to say that, and there's a hint of interest in his eyes.

Lucien: (chuckle) More than willing.

I wink at him and my bound hands loop around the back of his neck, pulling him gently towards me.

MC: That would trouble you to swing the key again, teacher.

Lucien obediently applies force with his fingertips, but the gradually deepening smile in his eyes shows that he is not at all under anyone's control.

The silver key swings as I let my gaze linger on his thin lips for a moment, then I lightly bite his lip.

I put my legs down from the hammock, bend my knee, and slowly press it between his legs, climbing up little by little.

His indifferent gaze freezes for a moment, and as his Adam's apple bobs, a rare blush suddenly creeps up to the corners of his eyes.

Seeing this, I mischievously increase the pressure on my knee until it lightly passes a scorching hot area.

Lucien: (grunts sexily)...

A sultry grunt escapes his throat, and the fingers that have been holding me tightly around the waist suddenly tighten even more. I press heavily against him as the curtains sway together.

The crisp sound of metal hitting the ground suddenly comes, and I can't help but look down. I see the silver key already slipping from his hand and falling to the ground.

I was about to say something when a cold touch fell on my face, and the darkening sky began to drizzle with small raindrops.

Lucien: (grunts and whispers hoarsely) Do you need to continue checking?

A hoarse voice comes through, and I fall into that hazy and enticing gaze, my mind swaying slightly.

I instinctively grip the back of his neck tightly and wrap my legs around his waist, until there is no gap left between us.

MC: Of course we should continue.

I lightly hook my leg and kick the silver key on the ground away. Lucien deeply looks at me, momentarily in a daze.

MC: How could the teacher be distracted while checking the answer?

I wink at him, my fingertips lightly exerting pressure on the back of his head, bringing us closer again.

MC: I want you to focus only on the present moment, on my breath, my touch, and my kisses.

Amidst increasingly scorching breaths, I hook my fingers around his neck and trace his gentle eyes inch by inch with my gaze.

MC: Isn't this the principle that Professor Lucien wants to tell me?

His burning breath is slightly stagnant. Lucien's eyes flicker gently, like a soft bright white moonlight.

The next moment, his palm moves to my lower back, giving a firm push as he lifts me up from the hammock and strides toward the room.

Lucien: You're really a clever girl.

Those delighted eyes keep gazing at me, full of warmth and tenderness.

(T/N: THE VOICE THAT HE MAKES HERE AFTER THIS IS GODLY. BLESS XIA LEI. also no, u can’t convince me they’re not f-ing in this, the desc is very subtle but you can HEAR it from his voice;))))

We walk to the room like this, until I am gently placed on the sofa and he unties the silk from my wrist.

In the next second, Lucien moves forward, his reassuring scent makes me feel unbalanced, but my heart is filled with joy.

Lucien: Congratulations to this student for passing my "test." However, I want to share the most important lesson.

I feel a moist sensation on my back as his lips graze over it, causing a ticklish sensation that spreads through my body.

MC: …What?

The arm around my waist tightened, and a deep breath fell on my back again, mixed with the wet and tingling sensation, creating a great sense of satisfaction.

Lucien: I have always felt that "eternity" is a very abstract adjective.

Lucien: I prefer to experience the present moment to understand the meaning of 'eternity' rather than reaching for it.

Lucien: But when I'm with you...

Lucien: Every moment, the joy and excitement I feel are more intense than the previous one.

Lucien: This makes me have to admit-

Lucien: While wanting to hold onto every moment tightly, I also unconsciously start to have expectations and concerns for the future.

Lucien: Looking forward to our next trip, next experience, or the next crazy adventure.

The warm sucking sensation continues to fall on my skin, with a slight sting spreading all over my body, until it arrives in the deepest part of my heart.

Lucien: Perhaps this part is what you have taught me unconsciously.

Lucien: So, for a long period of time to come...

Lucien: Let Teacher MC attentively evaluate my learning outcomes.

[Dating Diary]

Lucien was invited by a newly engaged couple from the Ultima Bioresearch Centre to attend their engagement banquet as their witness. However, when we arrived, the engagement banquet was suddenly canceled. The couple was very laid-back and asked us to stay at the Wild and Luxury Hotel for the vacation as planned.

We started our vacation unexpectedly. A series of unfortunate events made me feel uneasy, so when we passed by the wishing fountain, I pulled Lucien to throw a wishing coin together, hoping for good luck.

Lucien noticed my little scheme and helped me get the good luck I wanted. His comfort completely swept away my little bad mood. But at that moment, Lucien said he wanted to give me a "small test." Intimacy in the garden quickly led me to the answer to the "small test." But I didn't want to just obediently answer the question, so I used his method of asking questions and told him the answer."

[kata-sans]

Raising Stripe

Chapter 32

If there is one thing Craig can't stand it's a crowded mall. Every year he makes an active effort to avoid the mall during the holidays by purchasing his gifts online. There is nothing he can't get online and he has no reason to be caught up in the shopping madness. Nothing except an opportunity to take a picture with a fat man in a red suit.

Tweek had been hooked on the idea of getting a cute Christmas picture of Stripe. No matter how much Craig disliked the idea of spending his day in a crowded mall, he couldn't bear to shoot down Tweek's enthusiasm. It was rare to see Tweek be excited about anything involving Christmas and if a holiday picture caused it then Craig would spend all day in a swamped mall on Saturday.

That morning, Tweek woke up and fed Stripe a bowl of yogurt with blueberries. He quickly bathed Stripe and pulled out a cute gingerbread onesie from the closet. He dressed the baby and took extra care in fixing his hair before placing the hood of the onesie on his head. Once satisfied he snap a quick picture to send Laura and Tricia.

Craig was putting away the clean dishes when Tweek came in gushing about the baby in his arms. “Craig isn't he the cutest gingerbread!”

Craig turned to look at Stripe’s outfit. He looked like a typical gingerbread with a dark brown body, white frosting lines, baby blue candy eyes, and bright magenta gumdrop buttons. He chuckled as he noticed Stripe chewing on the onsie’s glove. Craig grabbed a pacifier from the counter and gently tugged Stripe's hand out of his mouth.

“Here Stripe, Mama's not gonna be happy if you chew a hole in your clothes before your picture.” Craig said, popping the pacifier in the baby's mouth.

Stripe held out his arm asking to change parents. Craig accepted him and lightly bounced him in his arms. He smiled when Stripe shrieked in laughter, but stopped when he saw Tweek's phone flash.

“Tweek! What the…Don't post that!” Craig called, chasing after his husband who was already running to their bedroom.

“TOO LATE! YOUR MOM ALREADY LIKED IT!” He shouted from behind the closed door. Craig could hear him laughing and was not surprised when the baby in his arms joined in.

“Traitor.” He playfully said, pressing a kiss against Stripe's cheek.

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

Just as Craig imagined, the mall was crowded. Everywhere he looked, people were rushing around and balancing more bags than they could carry. He even saw a fight between two disgruntled shoppers. He took a breath keeping his mind on the goal: find the plump red guy.

“Look! There he is. That's Santa, Stripe. If you're a good boy he'll bring you a gift on Christmas.” Tweek explained to the baby he was currently holding. Stripe turned to look in the direction he was pointing to but didn't show any other signs of interest.

Tweek rushed to the line which to Craig's dismay had a few people. For the first time Tweek was buzzing with excitement rather than anxiety. “You seem more eager about meeting Santa than Stripe. Should I be jealous?” Craig said in a teasing manner.

“What! No it's just… Do you remember those Coffee with Santa events my parents used to host every year at the shop. The shop would always be busy and I was always required to work at the shop. Every year at the end of the day I was always the last kid to sit on Santa's lap. My mom always took my picture and I got a chance to give Santa my wishlist. Every year I got exactly what I asked for on Christmas.” Tweek smiled fondly at the memory. “When I found out it was my dad dressing up as Santa, I was angry. It was just another thing my parents ruined in my life.” Tweek spat bitterly.

Tweek sighed but his smile came back, “My parents made many mistakes raising me but this is the one thing I can't hold against them. I was hurt about the truth, but those are my happiest memories as a child. It's the one family tradition I can share with Stripe.”

Craig embraced Tweek. He knew better than anyone how awful Tweek's parents were. It was hard to understand how Tweek could still say anything positive about them, but Craig would always support his husband's feelings.“I'm glad your parents did something right for you.” Craig whispered into Tweek's ear.

Tweek pushed Craig away to rub his teary eye.”Aww man don't say sappy stuff like that!... Here hold Stripe while I make sure he's ready for the picture.”

When Stripe was comfortable in his arms, Craig took notice of how far the line had advanced. He was pleased to see they were next in line. In fact the family was already looking through the pictures on the computer and he could see a redhead in an elf costume beck them over.

“Wait! Kyle!?” Craig quickly glanced at the elf in front of him in disbelief.

“Craig? Tweek? Wow, when did you guys adopt a kid?” Kyle asked.

“Long story, why are you here?” Tweek answered.

“Stan and I needed extra cash for the holidays so we took up the part time Christmas photography job.”

“Wait! Stan's here? Is he wearing an elf costume like you?” Craig jumped at the opportunity to see his highschool rival look ridiculous.

“Umm, not exactly. We applied to be Santa but only one of us could fit the costume so…” Kyle pointed to the man in the red suit sitting on an elegant green couch. Stan dressed as Santa gave the family a short wave. “Well go ahead and hand your kid to Santa.”

Craig walked up and placed Stripe on Santa's lap. Stripe was confused as his Dada moved back. He looked up at the man he was sitting on with curiosity. The strange man had a big fuzzy thing attached to his face and smiled wide before bellowing out, “HO! HO! HO!”

Stripe's lip began to wobble and he let out a fearful cry. Craig quickly scooped up his crying baby and began consoling him. He shot a glare at the man dressed as Santa. “What is wrong with you?”

“What? I didn't do anything. Some kids just don't like Santa.” Stan tried to defend himself.

“Craig, it's okay. Stripe just doesn't feel comfortable sitting on a stranger's lap. We should just go home.” Tweek calmly suggested. Craig wanted to agree but he could clearly see the disappointment in Tweek's eyes. He looked down at Stripe who was snuggling against his chest settling from the fright.

“No! We came here to get Stripe's picture with Santa and I'm not leaving without one.” Craig said full of determination. He grabbed Tweek's hand and guided him to sit on Stan's right side before settling on the left with Stripe on his lap.

The photographer quickly arranged her camera angle and lighting. She held up and jingled a set of Christmas bells catching Stripe's attention. “Smile.” The camera flashed a couple times before the family was given the signal to move.

“Merry Christmas!” Stan called out only to receive Craig's typical middle finger.

Tweek was ecstatic. He pointed to his favorite picture where Stripe smiled wide enough to see his teeth. Tweek decided he wanted a large print to frame on their living room wall and a few smaller copies to share with friends and family.

Craig was pleased to see his husband's enthusiasm. Looking at the picture Tweek chose, he was more drawn to his husband's joyful expression. Seeing Tweek relive his happiest childhood memories was a memory he planned to cherish as long as he lived.

Ch.31

Ch.32

Bonus: Gingerbread Stripe 😍

[honeykngdom]

the caretaker | iruka umino

Pairing: Iruka Umino x 19+f!reader Synopsis: It's particularly rainy that Sunday morning. You have places to be, and the rain certainly wasn't going to stop you - a pothole in the road might, however. How embarrassing, now you're late and wet. Oh, God, please tell me you didn't see that? WC: N/A - nothing but fluff. Word Count: 5.5k A/N: tbh I fell in love with the idea of iruka being soft and taking care of me, so I decided to write something to fulfil my own need since I couldn't find anything to scratch that itch. Reader is a Sarutobi bc the plot required it. If you liked reading my work, please know my requests are open & I offer taglists for new content I post! :)

Read part two here!

It was raining outside. Under any other circumstance, Iruka wouldn’t have minded. Except that it was cold, and wet, and it was Halloween. And normally, Iruka didn’t have arrangements for Halloween, so the terrible forecast wouldn’t have been a concern – except that he did this year, and the rain was impeding on those particular plans. 

For the last two years, Halloween landed on a school day. For the most part, he was bogged down with lending an additional hand after class. In prior years, he didn’t bother to celebrate the holiday simply because he hadn’t had the time. It appeared that wasn’t a sufficient answer for Master Jiraiya. 

The Sannin arrived in town just the night prior after a gruelling month of training with Naruto; he was dining at Ichiraku’s with Kakashi and Asuma. They feasted on ramen while Iruka listened to the tales of their various training. He was always impressed as a teacher of the Academy to listen to the growth and strength that students of his past accomplished in their own personal endeavours. Especially with Naruto. The boy was an enigma, Iruka decided, one he was keen on rooting for. 

But no amount of compliments to Jiraiya and his masterful work with Naruto could spare Iruka from the dreaded conversation; what was going on for the holiday in the village? Iruka all but hung his head in his ramen bowl as the conversation around him ensued. It was unsurprising that Kakashi knew the goings-on of celebrations within the village; the man knew everything about everyone, for the most part. Asuma, not unlike Iruka, also didn’t typically partake in the festivities, but appeared rather intrigued at the prospect of joining his fellow comrades in a night of fun. 

Iruka tried to avoid it; he was busy grading, preparing next week's lessons, and watering his plants – to no avail. Jiraiya all but insisted that Iruka join them for the evening. No if, ands, or buts about it. This brought Iruka to his current predicament. Not only did he have plans for the evening, it was also pouring with rain. 

He watched the puddles from his perch on his small balcony attached to his second story apartment. The streets were painted a dark grey from the moisture, curbsides overflowing with an ongoing stream that seemed to come from and go nowhere in particular. The tea in his hand was far from serving its purpose of keeping him warm, which was a pity, given it was the last of his favourite herbal blend. Iruka signed petulantly, circling the remainder of the cup's contents in a slow motion.

When he heard the yelp, he nearly leaped from where he stood to the sound. Looking up to search the street once again, he noticed the laying figure of a young woman. From the way her wicker basket sat several feet away from her, Iruka determined she must have fallen in her travel. He watched her for a few moments, noticing that she was slow to rise to her feet. Ultimately, he decided if anything, he needed to ensure she wasn’t injured. 

In your rush to make it to your aunt’s get together in time, you had stupidly forgotten to securely fasten one of the ankle straps on your rollerblades. Under normal conditions, it wouldn’t have proven to be too much of a problem; but when you’re speeding down the road and forget about the pothole just on the left hand side, it certainly can be. 

You probably should’ve moved. You were in the middle of the street, after all. Sure, it was raining and there was likely no one coming that you could be a bother too, but nonetheless. You were laying in the dirty street. In a puddle. And you’re pretty sure your ankle would begin to swell just about any moment. 

“Just great,” you muttered to yourself, unable to contain your annoyance any longer. It was nothing but obstacles since your eyes opened that morning. You ran out of your favourite tea blend, and in your search of finding something new to pair with your morning eggs, you burnt the last of them. You had no hot water when you went to shower – something that now seemed futile, given that your hair was soaked in rain water and mud. And, you were running late.

You heard the slam of a door followed by the approach of footsteps. You turned slowly, using your arms to push yourself up off the ground with a groan. 

“Are you alright?” 

Looking up, a gentleman stood above you with an umbrella in one hand and the other stretched out as an offer of help. He looked so comfortable in his training pants and turtleneck – comfortable and dry. You went to grab the hand he held out, and grimaced when you noticed the scrapes across your palm mixed with pieces of gravel. 

“I’ve been better.” You conceded, brushing your hands across your pants as soon as you were standing upright. You noted a tear in the knee in one pant leg and frowned. “Thank you for coming to help me, though.” You turned to the man that was now bent over and collecting the various items that had fallen from your basket. Oh, no – the taiyaki! “My desserts!” 

Rolling forward to grab the basket, the movement of your weight from one leg to the next sent a shooting pain throughout the entirety of your ankle and up the front of your leg. With a short cry, you went to collapse to the ground again, but found yourself caught by a pair of firm hands. 

“Woah, easy! I think it’d be best if you get that ankle checked out.” Iruka felt horrible. There was something about the way your face broke at the sight of your soaked taiyaki that made him feel all the more guilty, although he hadn’t the faintest clue why he would. “Those are death traps you have strapped to your feet.” 

You shot a look up at him. “They are not!” 

“That so?” Iruka’s brow lifted in challenge, slowly removing his grip from your arms to allow you to steady yourself on your own feet. From the look of pain that pulled your brows together, he had proven his point. “It should be looked at.” 

You sighed petulantly. Looking up at him now that the umbrella was situated over both of you, you allowed your brain a moment to register the man standing in front of you. You knew Iruka. You were only a few years his junior, so the pair of you never shared a class or completed any training together. But he was a familiar face, and a friendly one at that. 

“I appreciate the concern, Iruka. But I’m actually running late.” 

“I don’t think you understand,” he began, shaking his head slowly as he explained, “you’re not going to make it very far in this condition, and certainly not in this weather. Aren’t you in pain?” 

Of course I’m in pain, you thought coarsely. “I promised my nephew taiyaki, I’m bringing him taiyaki.” 

Iruka paused. As much as he wanted to argue that it was imperative you seek medical attention, he could appreciate that you felt you had a duty to fulfil. He often felt that same sense of duty when tending to his students. He took a moment to assess the situation, gnawing on the inside of his cheek while he processed. 

“For Halloween?” 

You nodded your head. “It’s his favourite holiday, and I love that he loves all things scary. I make him taiyaki every year and we eat it after we carve pumpkins.” 

Iruka fell into silence again; the two of you stood under the shared umbrella surrounded by the pouring rain with your basket full of the ruined dessert hanging between the two of you in your hands. If you weren’t soaked to the bone, and your ankle wasn’t screaming with pain, it might have otherwise been quite a pleasant little moment. 

Finally, Iruka spoke with an even and controlled tone. “I think it would be a good idea if you let someone take a look at your ankle. Besides, you can’t bring these to Konohamaru,” he held up one of the fish-shaped waffles between his fingers, “he’ll just come to the Academy tomorrow and tell everyone all about it. Do you want all the other youth to hear about how your taiyaki was soggy?” 

Could this be considered blackmail? You wondered, skeptically eyeing him. Probably not. But he was making a good case, unfortunately. 

“If I go to the clinic now, I can kiss the rest of my day goodbye.” 

Iruka paused, pursing his lips together in a firm line; then he sighed. “I can take a look at your ankle for you.” 

This time, you hesitated. You watched him for a long moment, searching his face for any indicator that he might be just saying that for the sake of being polite; but from where you stood, he appeared nothing if not sincere. While you didn’t entirely love the prospect of letting Iruka see your foot, there was still the matter of your wet clothing. 

You grimaced. “I’m not sure.” 

“At most, it’s probably a sprain. You can ice it for a bit and then I’ll wrap it for you.” He replied, his face remaining calm and even. 

You looked down, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “I’m going to drag mud in.” 

Iruka sighed. “Are you always this stubborn when offered help?” 

You almost laughed. “Unfortunately. Bad habit, I guess.”

“How about this: I’ll help get you back home, that way you can change into something dry and then we can set you up with a temporary fix for your foot.”

Admittedly, that was a better option. The feeling of your pants clinging to your body from the rain was beginning to irritate you greatly, and you were itching to get out of these clothes. “Okay, that’s not a horrible idea.” 

Iruka lifted the corner of his mouth in a half-grin, shifting the umbrella from one hand to the next. “Do you think you can manage if you hold onto me?” 

You shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.” 

The pair of you only made it to the top of the hill and around the corner before you halted entirely and shook your head. If you lived closer, it may have been feasible, but you still had another eight minutes to go. No chance you’d make it. After another five minutes of arguing, Iruka opted to pull you onto his back. It was decided that it was the easiest option to get you back to your apartment without putting further strain on your ankle, all while keeping you both safe from the rain. 

The short walk back to your home was quiet. Iruka needed to use both hands to hold you steady, leaving you in charge of keeping the umbrella upright and over the both of you. Sometime along the way, you became increasingly aware that you were soaking his clothing with your own — something you felt terribly for. You wanted to apologize for it, but you knew Iruka would shrug it off. Always the gentleman. 

“Here, let me help you.” Iruka knelt down once you were safely concealed inside your apartment. Remnants of your baking clung to the air and the space was still warm. You watched as the man’s fingers worked to undo the straps on your rollerblades; you quickly placed a hand on the wall beside you to steady yourself when he loosened the laces. “Can you step out of them?” 

Albeit painful, you did manage to remove your feet and place them flat on the floor. Iruka placed your rollerblades next to a pair of sneakers you had just to the left of your front door, then stood and immediately began removing his own footwear. 

“Do you own a tensor bandage?” He inquired, placing his jacket on the hook next to the one you had opted to leave at home just twenty short minutes ago. 

“Somewhere in the bathroom,” you pointed to the door across the way. 

Iruka nodded once. “I’ll go look for it. You find something dry to change into.” 

He left you where you stood and made his way across your tiny studio to where the bathroom was. He shut the door behind him, offering you a moment of privacy; it was when the door was closed and you were alone that you finally took a moment to process what was happening. 

Six years ago, you would have simply died to have Iruka hold you close, in any regard. Thankfully, you no longer felt like your tongue was swollen every time he happened to say hello when passing by in the streets. Overtime, the silly school-girl crush dissipated into respect - a mutual respect. You weren’t entirely sure when it happened. Maybe after Konohamaru started at the academy. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, you quickly rummaged through your closet for a pair of clean joggers and a matching sweater. Peeling the rain-soaked jeans from your legs was the least enjoyable part of the process, but one you were grateful for. The flesh of your thighs were so cold it felt as though it was being pricked by thousands of tiny needles. 

By the time Iruka exited out of the bathroom, you were pulling your sweater over your head. He found the tensor bandage and was stretching it out between his hands, his eyes lifting up to meet yours from across the space. “You look more comfortable.” He smiled. 

“I am,” you conceded with a nod and a smile in return, “thank you for getting me home. I’m sure you have better things to be doing with your afternoon.”

Iruka chuckled and shook his head. “No bother at all.” The man appeared sincere, coming to sit down next to you on the tiny loveseat nestled at the foot of your bed. He pursed his lips together tightly and patted his meaty thigh twice. “Alright, let’s take a look.” 

Removing the sock from your foot was the last thing you had wanted to do, but it couldn’t be put off any longer. You gave a quiet sigh, then reached down to slip the material of your sock away from your foot. Iruka helped guide your ankle into place on his leg; he then spent a few moments surveying the tenderness, his fingers gently touching along the swollen area. He kissed his teeth, offering a slight ‘tut’. 

“I think you may need something to help bring the swelling down.” He finally decided.

“I’ve got a bottle of painkillers up there.” You sighed, pointing over to the cabinets above your stove. “There’s also a bag of frozen vegetables in the freezer, could you grab it for me?” 

Iruka was quick to retrieve the items; he filled a small glass with some tap water and made his way back over to the loveseat to sit next to you. He set two tablets into the palm of your hand and watched you throw them into the back of your mouth before he handed you the water to swallow them down. When he was sure you had taken them, he took the glass from your hand and placed it on the table in front of him before gingerly placing the frozen bag of peas over your ankle. 

You couldn’t help but still feel embarrassed. Surely he had better things to do with his Sunday than play caretaker for you. “I’m so sorry.” 

Surprised, Iruka looked over at you. “What are you apologizing for?”

You shrugged once. “This definitely isn’t the best way to spend an afternoon, let alone your Halloween.”

The smile that Iruka flashed at you was warm and comforting. “Trust me, this is more up my alley than going out to celebrate.” 

You rolled your eyes. That felt hard to believe. “What, you don’t go out with Asuma and the others?”

This time, it was Iruka who looked embarrassed. He brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck in a guilty manner, his eyes slipping closed as his cheeks lifted in an innocent smile. “I have a great deal of respect for your brother,” he admitted, “but Jiraiya can certainly be a little enthusiastic. Large gatherings aren’t exactly my idea of a good time.” 

You blinked twice, then snorted. “Are you scared of the jōnin, Iruka?” 

“Absolutely not!”

“Master Jiraiya’s enthusiasm is not a good enough excuse to opt out of Halloween,” you retorted. 

Iruka sighed. “What if I say something stupid?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh again. What a silly thing to be worried about, given that your older brother had his own fair share of stupidity. However, you also knew that Asuma also held most people at arm's length at all times, and so the remainder of the village didn’t have the privilege of knowing the Asuma that your family did. For the most part, he was rough around the edges; most certainly the suffer in silence type. But over the last few years during his budding relationship with Kurenai, another side of him began to make its appearance. Someone softer, more tender. 

“If that’s what you’re worried about, don’t.” You lamented. “People say stupid things when they’re halfway through a bottle of sake.” 

The man next to you seemed to visibly relax. “I suppose you’re right.” 

“Besides, if Master Jiraiya invited you, then you’d ought to be there. I don’t really think anyone in the village turns down a request from one of the Legendary Sannin.”

Iruka seemed to consider this. Admittedly, he would never let it be known that he just simply didn’t care for the antics of the holiday. In his youth, Halloween was the perfect day to plan for. He’d spend hours upon hours pulling together the most elaborate pranks; as responsibility came to the forefront, Iruka found that he spent less and less time giving a second thought about trivial things like holiday celebrations. Not having a family to celebrate with may have also played a part in that. 

“What about you?”

Confused, you replied, “What about me?” 

“Do you have any plans for the evening?” Iruka inquired, quickly followed by: “I mean, apart from trying to deliver moist desserts to a poor unsuspecting child?” 

“To be fair, Konahamaru is expecting them.” You couldn’t help but snicker at his words. He was teasing you, and despite the fact the pair of you had not engaged in a steady conversation in almost four years, Iruka teasing you felt natural. As though he had been doing it his whole life. “But no, no plans. I probably would’ve been home after spending the afternoon with him and spent the evening watching a bad thriller and eating leftovers.” 

“That doesn’t sound like an awful time.” He lied. Did she do this every year? Understandably, bringing sweets to your nephew seemed like a wholesome tradition – returning home like a hermit to indulge in the most basic and mundane of activities? 

Well, Iruka couldn’t really judge. If he had it his way, he would be staying home tonight. Glancing down at your iced ankle, he decided if he was lucky enough, he could maybe weasel his way out of it.

You shrugged. “Not as fun as hanging out with my brother, I suppose.” 

Iruka tensed, lifting his hand to the back of his neck to scratch the area lightly. It was still damp with rain from outside, but he was no longer cold. Actually, he noticed it was quite warm inside your studio. “Can I ask you a favour?” 

“Anything.” It came out embarrassingly fast. You hoped he couldn’t see the heat creeping up your neck. 

He appraised you for a long moment, then shook his head. “Nevermind. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

You decided not to press it any further; truthfully, you were a little annoyed. Now you were curious. What had he wanted to ask you? “I think I should probably wrap it now.” 

Iruka nodded, dutifully tending to your ankle. Using both hands, he gently guided your foot from the table to his lap; he spent time examining the wound closely before unravelling the tensor bandage. He began at the base of your foot, then slowly brought it up in careful motions around your swollen ligament. When he was satisfied with his handiwork, he tucked the loose end of the bandage into one of the loops and repositioned the bag of frozen vegetables over your ankle. 

“I appreciate you helping me,” you said after a moment. Admittedly, everything that happened to you up until this point should have had you in tears of frustration — nothing had gone right. Yet, from the moment Iruka joined you outside in the rain to offer you a helping hand, the anger began to melt away. Now, the only thing weighing on your mind was the fact Konohamaru would go his first Halloween in six years without you and your shared desserts. “It’s nice to have a friend.”

It sounded so foreign coming from your mouth, but you were sincere. 

“I won’t keep you any longer.” You said suddenly, feeling silly for not sending him off sooner. “Wouldn’t want to keep Jiriya waiting, would you?” 

Iruka sighed. “I suppose.” He was slow to move, staring down at his hands that rested in his lap for a few moments longer before he turned towards your body. “I have a few hours before I’m expected anywhere, and I think I should make sure you get something to eat first.”

“Iruka, I’m fine.” You assured him. 

The man nodded in agreement, but remained seated. “I hear you, I just think Asuma may think differently of me if I were to head out without making sure you were set for the rest of the evening. What kind of a man would I be if I left you now?” He said it nonchalantly, but there was a heavy insinuation behind his words. 

You sighed, “I highly doubt Asuma would care.”

Iruka looked pointedly at you, “Would Asuma do it?” He asked, waiting patiently for your answer. When you lowered your eyes to the table in front of you, the man next to you chuckled and nodded in satisfaction. Because he was right – Asuma wouldn’t have left anyone’s side without ensuring they had everything they needed. You chalked it up to the way you were raised; your father had been an attentive man, and your brother seemed to be following in his footsteps. “That’s what I thought.” 

Unwilling to argue with him, you accepted defeat and leaned back into the cushions of your sofa. “Fine. If you feel you must,” you grumbled lowly, trying to sound annoyed albeit unsuccessfully – Iruka appeared amused – and folded your arms indignantly across your chest, “what were you thinking?” 

The man simply smiled, pushing himself off the sofa to wander over to the pantry just next to your fridge. He spent a few moments browsing through the various items you had leftover in your fridge and cupboard, compiling a batch of ingredients onto the countertops. 

He paused after a while, a sound of displeasure breaking the silence. “No eggs?” 

Guilty, you sunk lower into the pillows. “I used my last two this morning.” 

Iruka looked over his shoulder to where you sat. He didn’t appear to appreciate that answer, and after shutting the fridge door, he made his way over to where he had left his shoes by your front door. 

“Where are you going?” You asked, embarrassed by how quickly it had come from your lips. 

He looked over to you again, his expression blank as he responded. “Heading to the market, I need eggs.” 

You looked over to where your bag sat at his feet and sat up. “I have some change in the front pocket —”

Iruka held up his hand to stop you. “Nonsense, I’ve got it.”

Iruka looked so out of place standing in the middle of your tiny kitchen. He towered over the top of the fridge, needing to bend considerably in order to investigate its contents. His shoulders and back flexed with every movement; you found yourself mesmerized as he diligently diced the veggies into fine slices, absolutely enamoured with the current visual taking place. Admittedly, you never wanted it to end. For a moment, you allowed yourself to live in delusion. Having Iruka up close and personal like this made you long for something more permanent. 

An hour later, Iruka set down a large bowl overflowing with a heaping pile of steaming deliciousness. “Tantanmen is served!” 

You watched as he sat down across from you, noting the way he left his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and kept the apron around his waist. It was amusing to see Iruka so domestic; you only knew him as a prankster growing up, and in his later years, as a dutiful and dedicated teacher. To see him in any other light was strange, and yet, still refreshing. 

“It looks incredible,” you couldn’t lie even if you wanted to. The scents that now filled your apartment had you practically drooling by the time dinner was ready. 

“I wasn’t sure how much spice you could handle, so I went a little easy on yours.” He admitted, watching you intently as you took the first bite. When you closed your eyes and hummed in delight, his mouth broke open into a wide-toothed grin. 

“It’s delicious.” You claimed, happily digging in for a second bite. “Wish I could cook like this.”

“Asuma doesn’t bother to teach you?” He inquired. 

You shrugged. “When we were younger, sure. But, it’s been sixteen years since our mom died. I can’t imagine he remembers all of her recipes.” 

Iruka hesitated with his next question. “Do you remember much of her? Your mom?” 

“No.” You frowned, pushing the noodles around in the broth. “I was six when she was killed. Most of any memories that I have of her include watching her practice medical ninjutsu, more so when Kushina was pregnant.” 

“That’s right,” Iruka nodded, “I had forgotten Biwako was one of Kushina’s midwives.” 

You sat back, staring down into your bowl of ramen. “Seems like so long ago, when you consider everything.” 

The man pursed his lips, watching you quietly for a moment before he leaned forward onto the table. “Do you ever think about following in her footsteps?” 

You smiled, mostly to yourself. “Sometimes. I’m a fair kunoichi, don’t get me wrong. I’m just not sure if maternal practice is the best suited for me.” 

Iruka nodded. “You mean that you prefer to be in the field.”

You shrugged sheepishly, meeting his gaze. “I blame Asuma for that. Reckless as he is, he may as well have his own team of medical-kunoichi.” You sighed deeply, dropping your eyes. “Not that I’ve been out in a while. Since my old man died, well . . .” you trailed off, chewing on the inside of your cheek. 

“No one thinks any less of you, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I’d like to say I believe you,” you mumbled dryly, “but people treat me differently now that he’s gone. Not bad, but almost like they feel bad for me. Like I need their pity.” 

Iruka folded his arms on the table, “I hardly think anyone pity’s you. You’re a Sarutobi, for God’s sake.”

“Sure feels like it.” Now you just felt silly, pouting at your grown age like this. In front of Iruka, nonetheless. 

The man across from you sighed, unsure of how else he could comfort you. Iruka had watched you train plenty of times; from his classroom at the Academy, he had the perfect view of a few of the training fields that chūnin and jōnin gathered at to practice. He would be lying if he said he didn’t watch Asuma help you work on your hand signals from time to time, or that he found it amusing when you became frustrated.  

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he said after a while of silence. The softness of his voice surprised you. “I know that living this life can be difficult for most, but I would like to think that your father and mother wouldn’t want you to feel like this. Hiruzen spoke about the will of fire so often, I felt like I needed to make it my personal mission to ignite it within the youth of our village. 

Sometimes I forget about how much will the rest of us harbour. I see it in Asuma everyday. I see it in Kakashi, and even Naruto and Shikamaru. They show up for their teammates and their friends every day, they make the choice to continue to aid the community and village in their own unique ways. Whether that be through completing missions at the benefit of protecting the village, or through enhancing their own strengths with vigorous training. It exists in all of us, and undoubtedly within you, too.” 

Unable to hide the blood that rushed to your cheeks, you looked down into your bowl and moved around the noodles. Iruka was right. Maybe you did need to stop being so hard on yourself. 

The pair of you sat across from each other for at least another hour or two before either of you realized the sun was setting behind the tops of the apartments; the rain had cleared, but the streets remained damp with puddles. A part of you was a little disappointed the afternoon had flown by so quickly. Spending time with Iruka turned out to be incredibly relaxing, and it turned out the two of you had a lot more in common than you previously thought. 

You decided that you liked the way he smiled with his eyes. You liked the way the area around them crinkled whenever he lifted his lips into a grin. His hair was beginning to fall in stray strands from his neatly formed ponytail, and while you didn’t understand the logic, it made him all the more human. Intimate, even. Iruka was always seen pulled together, despite working closely with some of the most rambunctious youth the village had ever seen. Even during his sparring matches, a single hair never fell out of place. 

The broad shouldered man was leaning into the counter as he washed the small batch of dishes you had accumulated throughout the day. You told him to leave them and protested profusely, but he waved you away with a laugh in reassurance.

“Are you going to end up meeting with Asuma and the others?” You asked after a few minutes of silence. 

“Why don’t you come with me?” He asked in return, turning away from the sink. “I’m sure no one would mind.”

You almost laughed in disbelief. “I wasn’t necessarily invited.”

Iruka shrugged nonchalantly. “I fail to see the problem. Like you just said, Asuma’s going.”

You thought about it. Surely you would get some grief about not making it to see Konohamaru, but being able to join your brother and his friends in the festivities. Not that Asuma would truly care — if anything, you were more concerned about how he may react to seeing you in a bandage. Protective as ever, Asuma was. 

“Should I really be walking around just yet?” You wondered, looking down at your ankle with uncertainty.

Iruka wiped his hands on a small towelette, his head tilting to the side as he appraised you for a brief moment. Then, he replied, “If it gets to be too much, I will carry you home.” 

From the definitive look in his gaze, you could tell he was sincere. You felt like you had no other choice but to chalk it up to the simple fact Iruka didn’t want to attend this gathering any more than you did, but a small, miniscule part you really wanted it to be because he enjoyed spending time with you. 

“You’ll carry me all the way back?” 

He nodded once. “And you can always lean on me if you need to take a load off, though, I imagine we will be able to sit.”

We will. It may have been wishful thinking, but you wanted to believe that meant he would stay by your side the rest of the night. Suddenly excited with the prospect of spending the remainder of your evening with him, you finally decided to nod and brace your hands on your knees. 

“Alright. I’ve just got one more favour to ask before we head out anywhere, though.” You admitted sheepishly, looking sideways at him. 

He only chuckled, something that always sounded carefree. “Name it.” 

“I may need help changing into something a little less … casual.” 

This time, it was Iruka who appeared to scramble to hide blush that creeped into his own cheeks. Flustered, he nodded but for the first time, suddenly looked completely frozen.

“Don’t worry,” you giggled, noticing the way he gulped noticeably when you began to unzip your sweater, “I won’t tell Asuma that you had a peek.”

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.xli // The Dealer

Previous / AO3 / Wattpad / Masterlist / Next

He runs every other morning. It’s the only time he actually turns off the notifications on his phone. Day and night, weekdays and weekends, holiday or not, people contact him, and he lets them – but that hour is his alone.

Seven and a half miles, starting from his apartment complex, a little route he has perfected over the years, carefully tailored to his own liking. It disbands from the concrete monotony of the city to wind through the walking trails and hills of a nearby dog park, nothing more than a dozen or so acres of deciduous woods surrounded by a chain link fence. There’s a small creek there, at roughly the four mile mark, and while he recognizes how foolish it is, he considers that creek his own little secret. He pretends to be the only person on earth who has seen it.

The visits are always brief, especially now that the seasons have turned. Keeping your pulse up is what saves you from hypothermia when it’s just you and your jogging clothes against the frigid mist. You’ll catch your death if you stop moving. Every runner knows that. No, he just notes how it’s doing in passing glances, as if checking in with an old friend. He notes whether the banks have fallen during summer droughts, or in winter, if the morning is cold enough for ice to have formed as thin sheets over the stiller parts of its bends. He needs to move. The creek needs to stay. They part ways. That’s how it goes.

He's so used to this route, so familiar with his body’s reaction to it, that he can predict when he has worked up enough of a sweat for it to start dripping. It usually happens right as he leaves the dog park, on those first hundred yards back on tarmac, when his heavy footfalls dislodge the black dirt from his running shoes. Every few minutes from then on, he has to wipe at his eyes with the long sleeve of his shirt. Tastes the salt on his upper lip. Feels the way the crisp wind rapidly cools down the damp parts of his clothes. On mornings like this, it’s a welcome reprieve from his usual habit of overanalysis. Keeping your body occupied is a form of meditation all on its own.

The cold is starting to bite when he reaches his apartment complex. He lets his momentum carry him the last few yards along the short walking path to the rear entryway, panting as he chips himself in, takes a deep breath, and rushes the stairs two at a time despite the ache in his thighs – he considers these four flights the final stretch of the run. Feels the satisfied reprieve when he finally reaches the platform of his own front door.

Keys jiggling in front of him, body buzzing, he unlocks it.

Melon starts yelling at him immediately. Like always, it makes him smile; the way she paces back and forth, head on a swivel, mouth wide open, eyes desperately searching for his attention. She aggressively rubs her face against his hands as he’s untying his shoes, and he has to relent and do it one-handed, just so he can scratch behind her ears with the other. “You’re such a brat,” he coos. Her orange fur sticks to the sweat on his fingers, and he rubs it off in his shirt.

Beyond the entryway, from the windowsill in the living room, Zorro watches, bright green eyes in a black void, seemingly unbothered. Lazarus gives him a respectful nod. It just feels appropriate.

There are tricks to avoiding that post-workout soreness. Half of it lies in cooling down as slowly as possible; the other half lies in a good stretching routine. He stands for the quadriceps and the calves, squats low for the hamstring stretch, lies flat on his back for the glutes, the muscles in his lower back, his sides. Five seconds on the inhale, five seconds of holding, seven seconds on the exhale, five seconds of holding. Six cycles for each exercise. Steadily, his heartrate returns to normal, and his extremities warm up to the ambient temperature of the room. The sweat dries on his skin, leaving faint trails of salt. Melon watches him curiously for the first few minutes, then gets bored and leaves for his bedroom.

Lazarus is still lying there on the thin rug by his front door, one leg crossed over the other, pulling at the muscles on the side of his thigh, when his thoughts begin to drift again. They’ve gone in circles over the last few days, always returning to the same man. Always the same bewilderment, the same burning questions.  

He was the acquaintance of another client. It usually spreads like that, via word of mouth. Hushed questions, do you know anyone… And in the northern part of town, among the rejected, people tend to know.

 He was homeless then, had been for a good few months, he said. Fresh off mandatory probation through a halfway home, following a fight that he supposedly didn’t start, although Lazarus still has his doubts about that. His whole life was stuffed into a backpack. Rips in a bomber jacket that looked to have been expensive at some point. Always bruised or cut up somehow. He talked about getting kicked out of shelters, about turned-down job applications, and fights he got into with his then-girlfriend. Talked about killing his dad, in a tone seeping with more contempt than the usual crass humor. He’d built up a decent dependence, fought tooth and nail to ward off the brunt of withdrawals. All his money went to pills.

To Lazarus.

Truth be told, Renee fit the mold of an outcast so well, Lazarus didn’t pay much mind to him at first. You see it all the time. People get sucked into the jaws of the machine, chewed up and spit out the other side, where they’re expected to seamlessly reintegrate into the very society that left them in the cold to begin with, often with no support network, no plan of action, no real prospects. They’re set up for failure so often, Lazarus sometimes wonders if the powers-that-be do it intentionally. He wouldn’t be surprised. All the faces on that wall start to blend together after a while.

It wasn’t until about two months in that something changed. Renee was sitting in the passenger seat of Lazarus’ car, picking at the product through a zip-lock bag as Lazarus counted the bills, and he got quiet. You don’t have to have known the guy for very long to realize how uncharacteristic that quietness was. Lazarus pressed on intuition, and Renee admitted he was considering going cold turkey. Said he finally realized he had zero control of his intake.

Ask Natalie to watch you.

Renee let out a bitter laugh. Nah, that’s been dead for a while. She hates my guts now.

Well, there’s gotta be someone else you can—

There’s really not. And he swallowed, looking away. Managed to compose a somewhat stoic demeanor. I’ll squat somewhere, lock myself in a bathroom or something. It’s just gonna suck for a while, that’s it.

Twenty-five years old.

Lazarus pushes himself off the floor, relishing in the familiar fatigue in his body as he makes his way to the kitchenette. Washes his hands thoroughly. As he fishes a small pot out of one of the low cabinets, Melon predictably returns, slows to a halt in the middle of the hallway, and sits down, paws kneading the rug. Wide yellow eyes watch the pot curiously, ears perched in his direction.

“You’re not getting anything,” Lazarus tells her with a low chuckle. “Fat fuck.”

He scoops half a cup of rolled oats and pours cold water on eye measurement. Spices it up with cinnamon and cardamom and nutmeg, a pinch of salt flakes from the jar on the counter. Lights up the stovetop, and stirs as he waits for it to warm up.

Did he make a mistake when he invited Renee back to his place? Most definitely. But the thought of just allowing the man curl up alone on the gross tiles of some public bathroom for a week straight left a sour taste in Lazarus’ mouth. Not to mention that benzos are up there among the worst things you can withdraw from, save for maybe alcohol or opioids. Renee didn’t know it – he still doesn’t – but he would’ve cracked on his own.

Shoes off.

Renee stepped on the heels of his worn down sneakers, one after the other. He eyed Melon awkwardly as she rubbed against his leg. Cats usually don’t like me, he muttered.

Lazarus smiled. You’re in luck, then. Melon is a terrible judge of character.

He had Renee shower almost immediately, while the guy still had the wherewithal to do so. Started hunkering down, preparing for the ride. Every blanket Lazarus owned, he laid on the armrest of the couch; he placed a thermos flask and packets of tea ready on the counter next to the kettle. Saline crackers, plenty of water in the fridge. That evening, when he cooked up tikka masala for them both, he went a little heavy on the salt in Renee’s portion.

Lazarus remembers sitting across from him, setting sun pouring in from the window. It made his eyes look almost golden. Renee was already getting noticeably restless then, chatting up and down the wall about every small thing that crossed his mind. The conversation was mostly one-sided, but neither of them really seemed to mind. Nineteen hours clean. The calm before the storm.

Do you have a girlfriend?

Nope.

Why not? Not to be weird, but you’re pretty good-looking, y’know.

Chuckling, Lazarus shook his head. I’m gay.

Fork hovering over his plate, Renee looked up then, through the strands of damp dark hair falling over his eyes, and the corner of his mouth tugged up. Lazarus was half preparing for a snide remark, but that’s not what Renee was going for. Do you have a problem with bi guys?

Lazarus snorted. Why would I?

Renee went back to stabbing at his food. Some guys get grossed out if they know you’ve touched a pussy. Scooping up a mouthful, he caught Lazarus’ gaze again, shrugging a shoulder as he chewed.

Yeah, that’s just stupid.

Lazarus eats his oatmeal by that same table, although he has since moved it to a spot farther back in the apartment, where the sun doesn’t blind his guests in summer. He turns on his phone again, and isn’t surprised to see a dozen missed calls and a handful of texts. One call is from a new supplier he’s heard positive things about – someone who, like him, stays as far removed from fent as humanly possible. The rest are all from the same client, Delilah. Forties, thin brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes. Something about an ongoing divorce, a custody dispute that isn’t going in her favor. She got hooked on opioids following a knee surgery, and, unlike the majority of his clients, hasn’t learned to stop making last-minute deals.

He threads his fingers to stretch his arms high above his head. An hour and a half won’t kill her, he decides, in fact it might serve as a wake-up call. Someone is always desperate, and Lazarus, too, has his own life to manage. Sighing, he lets his arms fall, and sends her a text for a time and place.

Her affirmative response comes less than five seconds later.

In the windowsill, Zorro has found a more comfortable position to sleep in. One that evidently involves sticking his hind leg out over the ledge, while his head rests on his front paws. Unbothered by the tumultuous mess of the world he lives in.

Lazarus leaves the empty bowl in the sink next to the pot before he makes his way to the bathroom, where he finally rids himself of the jogging clothes, stepping into the shower. It takes a moment before the water is comfortably warm, and Lazarus’s first shiver at being naked is replaced by satisfaction, as the dried sweat is washed from his skin.

Despite a reported sleepless night, the second day was alright, all things considered. Renee was feverish and spent the majority of the day huddled on the couch, buried in blankets. Left every so often to puke in the bathroom, but his trips slowly decreased in frequency when he had nothing left to expulse. His hands shook a little too much to hold a game controller, so he spent his time watching TV, or briefly sleeping whenever his restlessness gave him the opportunity.

But that night was rough on the both of them. Lazarus stayed up, listened to ramblings that slowly but surely lost any semblance of thought or coherence, interspersed with long stretches of silence. Some hours, he could see the flickering pain clearly in Renee’s features, the constant shifting against physical discomfort that rarely seemed to ease. He tried to pace a few times, and at first, Lazarus tried to help him, lent his shoulder for support. As the night went on, though, even walking seemed to do more harm than good. Not that Renee was ever clear-headed enough to recognize that he shouldn’t try. Lazarus’ attempts to keep him on the couch were met with hostility more than once, but despite his size, he was weak enough from fever for Lazarus to hold him down if he needed to. Renee would forget why they were fighting after a while, he would calm down. If Lazarus was lucky, the man would pass out from exhaustion for a quarter or two, which let him tend to his own physical needs – taking a piss, drinking some water, getting something to eat. Lazarus was not lucky often.

On the third day, he went on an errand run, just thirty odd minutes to pick up a delivery and buy some basic necessities. Renee had been asleep for about an hour then, and Lazarus thought he’d be able to get away with it. That was his fuck-up. He should’ve known better.

He came home to find the coffee table overturned, tissue papers and shards of glass strewn about the floor of the living room, along with crumbs of stearin from the candles that cracked in the fall. Zorro and Melon both hid wide-eyed behind the TV stand. The mirror in the bathroom was cracked, like a cobweb blooming from its center. From there, a trail of blood zigzagged its way across the hallway, into his dimly lit bedroom.

In the far corner, he found Renee curled up behind the nightstand, almost pressing himself against the walls. That a man of his size could take up so little space was a mystery in and of itself. Pale as a sheet, eyes shut tight, trembling violently. A cut spanned the skin over one knuckle, not bad enough to warrant medical attention, but it must’ve nicked a small blood vessel, because it looked like Renee’s entire hand was drenched in red.

Lazarus crouched down at a safe distance. Kept his voice as low and gentle as he could. What’s going on, bud?

No change, at first. Just the constant trembling, hands clenched tight around his shins, quick, ragged breaths. There’s something wrong with my shadow, he managed to stammer out eventually, barely intelligible through clattering teeth. And he hit a closed fist against the wall next to him, and again, before Lazarus had rushed forward to grab hold of his wrist so he couldn’t hurt himself further.

And Renee tried to fight again. Tried to pry himself out of Lazarus’ grip, tried to gain enough leverage to kick him away. But when he finally realized Lazarus wasn’t budging, he broke down completely. Sobbing inconsolably, hoarse cries of anguish. His whole body was shaking with it, unbearably warm against Lazarus’ own. Hands no longer pushing away, but clawing at his arms and clothes, as if desperate for stability.

It's still only time Lazarus has ever seen him cry.

They talked about it afterwards. Anything after the second night, right up until he woke up on the fourth day, only left fragments behind, bits and pieces Renee struggled to string together. Despite the part of him that still feels like these moments are better left forgotten, Lazarus did his best to fill him in. It’s not like he doesn’t know the important part that clarity plays in closure.

Shadow…?

I think that’s what you said, yeah.

That’s… some Peter Pan shit. Man, I was out of it, huh?

Yeah.

Two weeks later, Renee met up with him for ten grams of coke. Lazarus is relatively sure he just used the drugs as an excuse to get close enough to try to initiate sex.

A wiser man would’ve declined both.

Wiping fog off the mirror he replaced, Lazarus spends the better part of ten minutes on skincare. Exfoliator, shaving, serum, eye cream, moisturizer. He runs a little bit of wax through still-damp hair, just to get that slight edge to how it looks. The steam still lingering in the bathroom keeps him warm, but he feels his hairs rise as he crosses the hallway to his bedroom for a fresh set of clothes.

A wiser man would’ve kept it to a one-time hook-up. A wiser man would’ve distanced himself each time Renee showed up bruised again, each time his mood flashed black-and-white for months on end, each time he brazenly failed to learn from experience. A wiser man would’ve heeded the constant stream of red flags.

But something about Renee is compelling. Not just his over-the-top confidence, his spontaneity, his odd charm. Renee is a contradiction. A sociable loner. He’s self-aware and oblivious, simultaneously. Optimistic and cynical, blunt and secretive, easygoing and abrasive, every high and every low.

And it feels good to be in his eye.

Until it doesn’t.

The light though the curtains put the bruised half of his face in shadow. He sat naked on the edge of the bed, fingers hooked in the belt loops of Lazarus’ jeans, pulling him closer by the hips. His eyes were dark, insistent. You can do anything to me. Anything you want.

It’s awful again, in some vague way Lazarus can’t fully grasp, much less explain in a way that wouldn’t draw ire or diminish agency. Renee broke the mirror on the third day. Delirious, barely able to string a sentence together. Of all the other things he could’ve broken, he snapped at the sight of his own reflection.

And it hurts to think of this devotion as another way for Renee to tear away at his own personhood, but giving your heart to someone else isn’t love if you only do it to rid yourself of it.

Sometimes it feels like you’re not fully there, Lazarus said quietly. It’s the closest thing he got to the truth in that motel room. Like you’re so caught up in an idea that you lose yourself for a while. It feels like a breach of your trust to indulge it. You’re getting bad again.

And Renee, who never shies from conflict, was silent for a while, before he changed the subject entirely.

If someone is determined to run their life into the ground, there’s really not a whole lot you can do as a bystander. Lazarus knows that better than anyone, but it still keeps him up at night sometimes. Still bears on his conscience, that helpless uncertainty, the gnawing feeling that he’s missing something vital. A piece of the puzzle that, once found, would make the whole picture clearer. A crack in the walls of the labyrinth, a feasible way out he could point towards.

He drinks a full glass of water by the sink, and then fills up another. Sits down by a laptop, dispassionately scrolling through his social media, the latest happenings on forums and blogs he follows. Checks the local news, but apart from a fatal crash a few towns over, and some parade arrangements gone awry, nothing piques his interest. It's not until he checks a nationwide news site that the name comes up again. All the major sites have sort of unanimously decided to start each headline the same.

DeWitt Case.

Lazarus stops scrolling. Just sits there and looks at the name, chin resting on his hand. He’s known about it for a while, obviously, just like everyone else. He’s seen the memes, the quotes people have pulled from the videos. He’s heard of the theories, lackluster armchair investigations, speculation and rumors. Entire forums dedicated. Headlines of Clearnet hosts desperately scrubbing the footage from their sites to appease advertisers, and how it still manages to circulate. Weeding out anything on the internet would’ve been an uphill battle even if it wasn’t such a publicly discussed topic. Some people are obsessed with it.

Renee brought it up too, didn’t he? Just before he…

Lazarus clicks on the headline. He has barely oriented himself with the article’s layout before a newsletter pop-up blocks the screen, closely followed by a banner ad scrolling along the bottom of the browser window. Letting out a disgruntled sound, he closes both.

More than a week has passed since the last broadcast or communication, leading many to worry that…

There’s really no new information. Nothing Lazarus hasn’t picked up in passing or from skimming headlines through the weeks. They don’t seem closer to catching the host – at least the FBI keeps info about the investigation close at hand. And DeWitt’s condition, from what they’ve been able to discern from the streams, is on a steady decline. Lazarus doesn’t even want to consider how it ends for the poor guy. What an awful way to go.

Is that what caused the panic attack? Does Renee identify with DeWitt? Does he view DeWitt’s situation as somehow analogous to his own? Why? What on earth could the two have in common?

Lazarus is leaning back in his chair, fingers absentmindedly tapping over linoleum, when a thought crosses through his mind. He snorts, shakes his head. And the smile fades, slowly.

What if DeWitt isn’t the one Renee identifies with?

Lazarus hesitates. Opens a new tab, and his hands hover above the keyboard, undecided. It feels somewhat foolish to follow this trail of thought, but now that it’s there, he knows it won’t leave him. Not unless he’s sure it’s a dead end.

dewitt case “host” what do we know

He finds a forum – one of many – where users have attempted to collectively profile the perpetrator. Amid a myriad of links to news articles and transcripts of the streams themselves, Lazarus finds a list. And it starts out inconspicuous enough. The information is sparse, the descriptions removed, almost clinical.

Male, anywhere from twenty to late thirties. Estimated height, 6’1”, estimated weight, 180-205 pounds, lean build. Brown eyes, light skin. Western accent, whereas DeWitt speaks with Midland/Northern.

It’s when he reads about the guy’s behavior that a sense of unease begins to dawn, almost unnoticeable at first, like a subtle change in the temperature of the room.  

He swears frequently and makes quips which are often mocking, dehumanizing, or demeaning. Highly impulsive, and at times reckless. Sometimes disregards not only the safety of DeWitt, but his own as well (see the transcript of 10/11). Control-seeking sadist. Has sudden violent outbursts, sometimes with no direct provocation. Not overtly grandiose, but he displays arrogance at the very least.

Body language wise, the host uses exaggerated gestures, and has a lax, “confident” posture and gait. Very energetic, often restless. Like many have already pointed out, in a majority of streams, he exhibits an increased breathing rate, dilated pupils, excitability, rapid mood swings, and other signs of stimulant use.

A shiver runs down Lazarus’ spine at the last descriptor. Not that he’s oblivious to how common amphetamine users are, but a picture is forming in his mind, piece by piece. From the implicit, the tendency. Something uncanny, filtered through nauseating dread.

Something familiar.

He sits silent for a while, gaze drifting out the window, where the rush hour is in full swing. His living room overlooks an intersection, about half a block away, where cars line up at least hundred yards in each direction, disappearing behind the neighboring building. He watches as the closest light turns from red to green, to red, to green, to red.

conrad dewitt kidnapped from

Cleveland, Ohio.

Lazarus swallows. Green to red to green. He can barely get his fingers to type out the words. Each letter appears slowly on the screen, one after the other. Two words on the sting.

dewitt livestream

The sites he finds, buried under mounds of headlines, are questionable at best. Some make the promise but require payment, some are obvious scams harping on morbid curiosity. It takes him a while to find the real thing, linked in a comment deep in a forum thread. A nearly empty-looking site that seems to have been created for the purpose. There are six thumbnails in a three-by-two grid, all marked with the same white triangle. He’s so sure it’ll be another fake when he clicks it, it shocks him a little when a video player appears.

Lazarus grits his teeth, cursor lingering over the inevitable.

He hits play.

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[midwestmade29]

Memories of You ❤️‍🩹

I was in the mood to break a few hearts so this story came to life…don’t hate me 😂🫣 ✧ Valentine’s Day writing prompt: #5 (Valentines Day break up. Sometimes relationships don't make it on the day of love) ✧ You can find @madhatterbri’s complete list of prompts here 🙂 ✧ Word count: 1,408 ✧ Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Disclaimers: Just sadness mostly. The story goes over a breakup and the feelings that come with it. Read at your own discretion.

GIF is not mine. Credit goes to the original creator.

This is a standalone story. There will be no continuations or a part 2.

This is the first Valentine’s Day you’re spending without Christian…

This Valentine’s Day looked a little different than it had the last 2. You were spending it alone instead of with him. This would be the first time in the last 2 years that you weren’t waking up to good morning kisses, the first time in 2 years that you weren’t spending it in the comfort of his arms. You knew there was no chance in hell that you were leaving your apartment on a holiday devoted to all things love! You had prepared for this day a few days prior when you went to the store to buy yourself a cliché heart shaped box of chocolate and 2 bottles of your favorite wine. You had purchased all the ingredients you needed to fix a homemade meal along with some self-care items. You made a promise to yourself that you would avoid social media so you wouldn’t see everyone’s mushy posts about them and their loves. The iPhone sitting on the coffee table was the enemy today because you knew you weren’t going to be getting the “I love you texts” you always looked forward to so much. This day was all about you now and you were going to spend it doing the things that you enjoyed to help take some of the sting from the day away.

“I’m fine. I swear I’m really doing fine,” was the reply you sent to your friends in the group chat you all shared. They had asked how you were holding up, checking in with you and offering their love and support because they knew even if you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you were missing Christian. Once you were done fixing dinner, you sat yourself down on the couch and began watching one of your favorite movies. Time was moving forward at a decent pace, which you were grateful for. The bottle of wine you had opened was about halfway gone when you paused the movie to clean up your dirty dishes and apply a face mask. On your way back to the couch, an old familiar box that sat on a bookshelf caught your eye. You tried your best to talk yourself out of opening it, but the contents inside of it called out to you. You hesitated when your hands reached out to grab it, but here you are sitting it down on the coffee table in front of your couch. Your face mask had another 10 minutes left before you could take it off, so you tried to get engrossed in the movie again. Periodically you would glance over at the box, almost giving into temptation but you refrained.

You removed your face mask when it was time and polished off your 1st bottle of wine. Your head was a little unsteady from it, but you weren’t too far gone. The heart shaped box of chocolates was half eaten with most pieces placed back into the box after you bit them in half to taste their flavor. You decided to rip off the band aid after you poured another glass of wine and go ahead and open the box. You had done so well all night not going down memory lane, but it turns out you’re a glutton for punishment! With your legs crossed as you sat on the floor, you took a deep breath and pulled the top off the box. The smell of Christian’s cologne danced around your nose when you pulled out one of his old wrestling shirts. The scent caused a rush of memories to overtake your thoughts as you remembered all his matches that you were ringside for. It took you back to all the times he wore this cologne for any special occasion that required him to wear a suit and tie and how he looked so fucking handsome in them. It was the same cologne he was wearing on the night you broke up. Sometimes you feel like the scent is embedded on his side of your bed. You sat the t-shirt on the floor and moved onto the next item in the box.

The paper tickets that Christian printed out were what you pulled out next. They were from the first hockey game the two of you went to together! You remember how into the game you were and how he looked at you in astonishment because of how well you fit right in with the rest of the hockey fans. Your cheers and curses made Christian laugh, and you encouraged him to let loose too! There was no good reason why either of you shouldn’t be your authentic selves around each other, even if that meant losing your minds over a hockey game. A piece of paper that you had Christian sign during one of his meet and greets caught your eye next. You decided to play a joke on him that day by standing in line and pretending to be a crazed fan just dying to see him. Your theatrics were over the top when you rushed up to him pretending to be his biggest fan. Onlookers thought you were bat shit crazy for your behavior, but Christian thankfully smiled when he noticed it was you causing the commotion. “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! It’s really you! Captain Charisma. The Instant Classic. The Patriarch of AEW!” you cried out, barely able to keep a straight face. “What are you doing here, Y/N?” Christian asked while shaking his head at you. He signed the note you had slid to him on the table, and he grinned from ear to ear as he read over what you had written on it:

“I love you baby! I’m so glad that you’re mine. I’ll see you at home after the event!

P.S.-I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much”

Up next were random trinkets that you had collected from your travels together. A keychain from Las Vegas when you were there for Double or Nothing. A few seashells from your favorite beach vacation you went on. Beer bottle caps from the bar you went to after he won the TNT Championship. You pulled out a half a dozen pennies that Christian picked up for you whenever he found one on the ground because he knew they reminded you of your grandfather who collected coins. The very last thing that remained at the bottom of the box were pictures of the two of you throughout the course of your relationship. You gulped down the wine in your glass as if it would help you get through the next set of memories. A few tears escaped your eyes when you looked at every photo. Each picture was different, ranging from silly and cheesy, to happy with the both of you displaying the brightest smiles! There were candid photos that you had taken of Christian when he wasn’t aware you were taking them and there were some that were like that of you too. Pictures of sunsets, you both with each other’s families and friends, underwater pictures of you snorkeling, the two of you snuggling on the couch together. You finally pulled out your favorite picture of the two of you covered in flour and other ingredients, sitting on the island in the kitchen after a small food fight you had.

You found yourself sitting on the floor with memories of what used to be spread out all around you. Tears stained your cheeks the more you thought about Christian and what he might be up to tonight. The stroll down memory lane made you feel sad and brought up things you were trying to hard to forget, but it was good for you. It was good for you to feel all the feels and release them. It was good for you to acknowledge your pain and let it go. The tears you shed made it feel like some of the weight you had been carrying around with you since your breakup was a little lighter. Once you dried your tears, you packed everything back inside the box, except Christian’s wrestling t-shirt. You placed it over your shoulder and got yourself ready for bed. While you were still in the process of moving on, it was still okay to hold onto some of the happy from your relationship with him. That night you fell asleep wearing his shirt, the smell of him that was still remaining on it lulled you to sleep.