#there’s currently a list of name choices but nothing definite yet

[solace-seekers]

kitten update!!!

vet said it had a bite on its arm that’s infected and it’s very very swollen so they can’t tell if anything’s broken in the lower part of its leg, but the upper parts are confirmed fine

he’s a boy!! (the vet said he had “tiny little testicles”)

hes very tiny, under two pounds

and perhaps most of all, he is a determined little baby that does Not like to be contained (when he’s not asleep ofc)

here’s the name in progress rascal <3

[msafterhours]

Drive

Male Reader x Hwang Yeji

~3.1k words

This should be one of the best ways to spend an evening.  Winding through the curves of a familiar mountain road with the top down, sunglasses on as the sun slowly descends below the skyline.  The music's blasting louder than it probably should be, but you're unwilling to add anything to your currently empty list of concerns.

No, in this moment, as the summer breeze flows through your hair, you feel weightless.  It's honestly hard to believe how many things are going right in this singular moment of time.

Now if only the passenger seat wasn't empty.

You’ll always remember the first day you met Yeji.  She found you leaning against the wooden railing of the pier, staring out at the shimmering reflection of the moon across the ocean’s turbulent waves as you desperately wished for answers to questions you didn’t know how to ask.  So, when the frigid winds picked up her words and carried her question over to your ears, of course you didn’t know how to respond.

"Didn’t you hear me?  I asked, what're you doing out here?  It's nearly midnight!"

Honestly, she could have asked your name and you would have drawn a blank.

It would quickly become a running theme, how much better Yeji was with words than you.  But in this initial moment, the start of something truly special, someone somewhere must have been looking out for you, handing you a response like a cue card.

"You know, I've been asking myself the same question for a while now.  Wanna help me figure it out?"

And when you read the sparkle in Yeji’s eyes as an invitation and offer your own by waving her over, you thank the stars above that she accepts.  And in the hours to come, as you huddle close, sharing stories and learning about each other, you thank them once again that she ends up staying long enough to watch the sunrise.

But you can’t help but wish for just the slightest bit more.  You can’t help but wish that she’ll stay forever.

…

Even with a gun to your head, you wouldn’t be able to tell anyone much about your first date two weeks later.  The only thing you’d be able to tell them about was the kiss.  Because while the rest of the night mattered, nothing but the kiss mattered.

Why would you focus on the color of her dress when all you could remember seeing is the fireworks show playing against the inside of your eyelids?  Why would you remember if your order was a good choice when the faint taste of strawberry was busy sending your mind into a tailspin?  Why would you care about literally anything else at all when the sensation of Yeji’s lips against yours felt like home?

The only other detail that stuck out was the sensation you felt after, when you arrived at your place and realized that you had no recollection of the drive home; when you realized that for the first time, your brain hadn’t treated the opportunity to drive as a priority.

Yet despite the novel sensation, you felt anything but surprised.  Because from the very first moment Hwang Yeji stood by your side, you knew that you had discovered a higher priority.  The highest priority.

…

One of the few things you two never could agree on was who said "I love you" first.  It’s admittedly hard to tell since you both said it simultaneously after an extended period of staring into each other's eyes, but as much as both of you were willing to compromise on most things, here, stubbornness reigned supreme.

Yeji tended to argue that she definitely said it first as she always had a quicker wit and was far more likely to have the first word (or three).  Your counter was always that you kept things simple, so there were fewer distractions between you and what you wanted to say.

It was, admittedly, the weaker argument.  Yet you stood firm all the same.

These conversations often tended to go around in circles, with each of your points being put forth, listened to, then promptly ignored.  And while neither of you were able to declare yourself the winner of these “battles”, you both left them feeling victorious.

Because the conversation always ended in the same place.  Where it always did.  Where it always would.  With those same three words.

…

In retrospect, it’s a testament to whatever meager bits of self-control remained within that you kept your hands off Yeji for so long.  However, a rainy night that left you both racing towards your apartment changed everything.

The door slammed behind her.  You felt that control begin to falter.  The rain traveled down her skin agonizingly slowly before falling to the floor below.  You loosened your grip even further.  She pushed you against the wall and crashed her lips against yours.  You conceded to her entirely.

For you both, it was a boiling point, a release of tension, an evolution in your relationship, a miracle, a feeling so fucking amazing that you both forgot how to breathe—

And as your survival instincts forced you both to break away from the kiss and finally satiate your need for oxygen, it wasn’t the scent of Yeji’s rose shampoo that made your heart find a way to shift into seventh gear.  No, it was the metallic taste seeping out of your lower lip.

It was the way she hungrily ran her tongue over those fangs that had marked you.

It was the predatory smile she gave as you audibly gulped.

It was the way she grabbed, spun, and pushed you back until you stumbled over the arm of the couch.

It was how she pounced on you, her prey.

And for the rest of the night, even hours later when your soaked clothes were long forgotten and your only defense against the raging storm was the heat emanating off of each other’s bodies, the cold was the least of your concerns.

Because you were together.

Finally.

…

It was early in your relationship when you drove her to the jewelry store.  Early enough to not arouse suspicions.

For once, you played your part well, eloquently telling Yeji that you simply wanted to get her something special.  Something that would make her think of you.  And you told her no lies.

Thus, she was willing to oblige when you asked her to try on a multitude of options and simply enjoy herself.  And you truly did enjoy yourself, happily buying her the necklace Yeji chose as her favorite.  You just made sure to secure one other thing.  Her ring size.

Because you already knew.

…

Yeji didn’t have to use her words to tell you something was wrong.  You needed only look into her eyes to see the predatory edge gone, replaced by a lethargic malaise.  So you showed her your love in the best way you knew how.  Through action.

A quick call to her colleague secured the weekend off of work.  A second call got her friend to pack a bag of her things.  A third got you the weekend off as well, with the concession of promising to handle the upcoming project from hell you’d been avoiding for months.  And a final call secured you your venue of choice, with blessings from the owner.

Thus, with everything in place, you were ready to pick her up when she ended her day.  And despite your vague answers as to where you were taking her, she was more than ready to go along with you.

And so, you began to drive.

…

You took the turns slowly, methodically.  Anything to keep the ride as smooth as possible.  Anything to keep Yeji as comfortable as possible.  Anything to keep from ruining the perfection of this moment.  And though you did your best to keep your eyes on the road, you couldn’t help yourself from stealing glances at her every once in a while.  And as always, her eyes were a masterpiece worth a million words.

You saw the slightest bit of trepidation.  You saw a sense of excitement.  You saw relief.  Contentment.  Wonder.   Joy.  And when Yeji looked up at the rearview mirror and met your eyes, you saw a reflection of your own heart.  You saw love.

And you could only hope that your entire heart would be enough to repay it in kind.

…

The cabin made its presence known immediately upon entering your view.  It was tall, with the high ceilings and slanted roof making it look even larger than the floor plan would suggest.  With two floors, a deck, a path to the lake, and a multitude of unexplored rooms, it would likely have been more than enough for just about any couple staying there alone.  However, if Yeji’s uncharacteristically rigid movements were any indication, it still might lack enough usable surfaces to work out her tension.

But that was a problem for the rest of the weekend.  The immediate priority was the present, so you grabbed your things and the groceries waiting on the front porch, then went inside and began preparing dinner.  And while the dinner and coinciding conversation were nothing short of delightful, it was a moment during the preparation that you knew would remain imprinted in your mind forever.

Yeji insisted that you both wear aprons during the preparations.  A seemingly silly request, and one that you likely would have brushed off if asked by anyone else.  But when Yeji wrapped her arms around your waist to tie the knot, you were suddenly very glad to have acquiesced.

Because somehow, some way, it felt more comfortable than anything you had ever experienced.  It was more familiar than this cabin that you had first visited as a child.  And as you wrapped your arms around her and she melted into your embrace, you knew tying the silly apron was far from the priority.

So, you held her, far longer than you’d need to tie her apron.  You stood there, arms wrapped around each other, long enough for the silence to convey everything that you wanted to tell her but couldn’t find the words for.  And a while later, when you detached from one another and looked at Yeji through misty eyes, you prayed that the sparkle in her own was there to stay.

…

Yeji didn’t respond verbally when you asked her to close her eyes and follow your lead.  She simply slipped her hand into yours and allowed her world to go dark.  Thus, despite being able to traverse this route with your eyes closed, you methodically led her out of the dining room, through the living room, out onto the deck, down the path, and onto the dock that served as your destination.

And when she opened her eyes and saw the lake that defined your childhood, she found herself stunned, truly at a loss for words.  And it turned out that those couple seconds were all you needed to render her speechless once again, as you dived into the lake, fully clothed.

When you resurfaced, the first thing you noticed was the sound of Yeji’s laughter dancing across the glassy waters that you had just shattered.  The second thing was her gleaming smile that shined brighter than the full moon overhead.  The third was the uncertainty rooting her to the wooden planks of the dock.

But when you invited her to join you, she dove into the lake without the slightest bit of hesitation.  Because Hwang Yeji knew you’d be there to catch her.  And when she kissed you, it wasn’t a question.  Nor an answer.  It was a promise.

One you were more than happy to return in kind.

…

Less than an hour later, after the initial rush of adrenaline had worn off and the cold had begun to permeate through your bones, you carried Yeji back to the house and commenced your favorite way of staying warm.

But this time felt different.

Because when she looked up at you, staring directly into your eyes as she took you into her mouth, you found no traces of her regular ferocity.  You still saw desire, but you also found insecurity.  You found gratitude in her eyes.  You found fear, adoration, vulnerability.

You found her.

So, as Yeji continued sending shockwaves across your entire body, you needed no words to tell her exactly how good it felt.  Your clenching muscles and curling toes and quick inhalations said everything.

But you told her anyway.  Because you needed her to know.

And as the moon ascended to its apex before hurriedly descending back below the horizon, trying to hide from the absolute vulgarity you were committing between the sheets, you spent the rest of the night showing Yeji exactly how you feel.

…

You had always viewed alarm clocks as a cruel invention.  After all, who in their right mind would want to set a time limit on their dreams?

But when you shifted from sleep to consciousness and awoke late that morning, you found yourself merely shifting from one dream to another.  You found yourself holding Yeji in your arms, granted the perfect angle to observe her flawless visage as golden beams shone through the windows and cast a gentle light across her sleeping form.  And just as you began to doubt whether you were even awake at all, Yeji’s slow, hot breaths against the base of your neck brought you back to reality.

So, you held her, far longer than you needed to fully awaken.  You laid there, arms wrapped around Yeji, long enough for her to finish whatever dream she was experiencing.  And a while later, long after you had lost track of the time passed but well before she awoke, you realized you’d decided to stay a long, long time ago.

…

Unfortunately, you were reminded that dreams don’t last forever when your alarm clock began its cacophony that next Monday.  And even though you’d told Yeji the nature of the compromise you’d made, it didn’t make the following weeks any easier.  You had, after all, volunteered to manage this project.  And if you wanted to keep the job you had spent your entire adult life working for, you knew you couldn’t deliver anything but perfection.

So, you got to work.  And as the hours stretched on and the days began to blur together, the long days turned into long nights turned into long weeks.  And the strain on your relationship was impossible to miss.

Your sins started small, like not responding to a text until hours later or having to cancel a lunch date.  However, as the list of your transgressions grew, so too did their severity.  Yeji did her best to be supportive and might have acted as if it were okay that you didn't follow through with your daily good night calls, but the cracks in her voice allowed the truth to trickle through.

And as much as you wanted to be there to hold Yeji close and help her heal the wounds you had caused, you were terrified of the possibility of not delivering on this project.  Of losing the benefit of years of schooling and even more years of hard work.  So you soldiered on, assuring yourself that these short-term pains would be worth it in the end.  Surely a couple months were worth losing for benefits that would last years to come?

Unfortunately, your calculus broke the exact moment you snapped at her for calling you during a meeting.  And Yeji, the eloquent half of your relationship, left you in silence.

…

The first day was hell.

The second day was worse.

Each day was marked with the same routine, with you reaching out and asking for a chance to apologize and Yeji letting her silence suffocate your request.

Nothing was worth this.

But it wasn’t until a week had passed and you found yourself alone in your apartment once again that the calendar reminded you that your anniversary was in one week’s time.  And somehow, with the realization that you hadn’t even known how badly you’d fucked up, you hit a new low.

So, immediately, you broke down and sent her a flurry of messages, pleading for a chance to ask for forgiveness.  To your surprise, you received a response.  You received a location, the same restaurant where you had your first date together.  You received a reservation time and instructions to pick her up 30 minutes beforehand.  And, you received a date.  Your anniversary.

Realizing that you’d probably already said too much, you promised to be there.  And you waited.  7 days of pain.  168 hours of suffering.  10,080 minutes of torment.  604,800 seconds of agony.  But when the time came, you made damned sure you were early.

And so did Yeji.  She was there, leaning against a pillar and staring up at the sky.  Waiting for you.

But when she got in the car, Yeji refused to even look at you, not even allowing you the chance to begin your apology as she told you to drive.  So, you trusted her.  And did as she asked.

You began to drive.

…

Despite the frigid climate in the car, you couldn’t help but feel a warm relief at having this opportunity.  At having Hwang Yeji back by your side.  And though you did your absolute best to keep your eyes exclusively on the road as you deftly navigated the icy streets, you couldn’t stop your heart from stealing a few glances in the rearview mirror.  And when you saw the tiniest bits of moisture beginning to gather at the corners of those steely eyes, you couldn’t stop that same heart from manifesting the slightest bit of hope within your soul.

But until you earned the chance to apologize, you continued to drive.

...

You honestly should have seen it coming, but the anxiety threw you off your game just a little bit.  Just enough.

You honestly think you would have been alright with it all.  It wouldn't have been easy, but you could have accepted the fact that the semi truck over your right shoulder blew through the light as if it were merely a suggestion.  You could have dealt with the whiplash of the impact and the pain and the damage and the medical bills.

You could have dealt with it all.

If only the passenger seat was empty.

(My sincerest gratitude to @worldsover and @braaan for reviewing this piece, this fic wouldn’t be anywhere near where it is now without their help.  Also, much love to @okaylikesmomo, @capslocked, and @majorblinks.  I wouldn’t have finished this without your support.)

[korgbelmont]

Choices Insiders September 2024

Here we are once more with the latest Insiders.

Undercut due to length of post

I was expecting this to be a multiple choice one, so seeing that it was one of those ones where you can type out an answer was fun, I mentioned about not using AI and including more than one female Love Interest in multiple love Interest books as well as more Trans and Non-Binary Love Interests.

The new skills look interesting. Curious to see how they will play into the story.

The scythe kind of reminds me of the one from the Dante's Inferno game. The Spellshot looks cool and so does the shield. I'm interested to see what the downgraded versions will look like.

I do like that they have paired characters together, kind of gives the vibe that they have grown and learned to work together.

I will not say not to another Cat. Be interested to see everyone's reaction to when we first see Flumph in the book (Especially Valax).

I still can't believe a 180 was pulled on this and a sequel got greenlit, never would have expected a BK3, but here we are and there are now complaints about more Gabriela from me!

I remember when we were getting books at least five out of seven days back before the pandemic. Good times. I'll be honest, I would prefer to see them spread it out again a bit as it feels a bit much having so many on just the two days.

A couple months usually seems to be the gap between VIP and Wide Release, but I did wonder if it might get pushed to December, glad to have confirmation and again, no complaints here about it being earlier than thought!

I think a spinoff that focuses on one of the other realms would be cooler, they definitely wrapped things up for the Fae in BK2, but it's like "you name drop these other realms and do nothing with it!" I do remember a merfolk realm being name dropped and I have seen so many people say about wanting a Merfolk book, and it would be interesting to see!

I'm curious as to what Inheritance will be about. Even with the image, I couldn't make any guesses.

Years Apart looks like it will be some form of Open Heart redo going by the hospital image, but going by the title, it makes me think that it will be another one of their power imbalance "forbidden" romances with the MC being a recent med school graduate and the Love Interest being a Chief or something. So it may be a pass on that one.

The current Wide Releases are definitely a mix at the moment. I gave up with Filthy Rich part way through chapter 1. Along Came Treble is one I fell behind on and just never go to catching up on (It's on the list to do). I have really been enjoying Deadliest Game. Rivals With Benefits I have only got to the end of chapter 1 on and I'm kind of meh about it. Hearts on Fire is getting interesting with the arsonist plotline, curious to see how it plays out. The Ghost Of Us I have been enjoying, again an interesting murder mystery with a supernatural spin on it.

I am ready for Terror Fest tomorrow! I've been hearing about how there are consequences with this one which is cool as it feels like there hasn't been anything like that for I don't even know how long haha.

Looking forward to the All Of Us books, curious to see how they have worked the different stories.

With Blades 3 being confirmed for November, it's safe to say that Plus One will be in October. I must admit, I'm not overly fussed about it, I won't write it off just yet and look at it when it releases and see then.

Having seen the cover for Bitten, it looks like it's going to be their version of Twilight. interested to see what it will be like as I do more often than not enjoy the supernatural books.

Choices Threequels always seem to have something to do with weddings in some way. Curious to see what the mystery will be, I know a lot have said it more than likely be the mystery of MC's father's death. Only one way to find out!

That's it on this one. Keep safe everyone!

[coraniaid]

Bad Eggs regularly shows up close to the top of lists of the worst episodes the show ever aired, and has done so pretty consistently for a very long time.

To cite just a handful of examples: 

it’s currently the fourth worst episode on IMDB by user rating  

it was ranked eleventh worst in this 2023 list from Rolling Stone 

it was ranked as the single worst episode on this list from Paste Magazine in the same year (quote: “there’s literally nothing good about this episode”)  

it was ranked ninth worst on this 2017 list from Vox 

it was ranked second worst on this 2013 list from BuzzFeed 

So obviously quite a lot of people really don’t like it.

And I’ve never really understood why that is.  In my view, Bad Eggs is … basically fine? A bit boring, sure.  A bit inconsequential in the grander scheme of the season.  A bit awkwardly written in places, with some clunky dialogue and some plotting choices that could have done with a rewrite or three. Underwhelming. But, yes,  basically fine.

The worst episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer are so very much worse than this.  I wish I lived in a reality where this was the worst episode of the show.

During this rewatch alone I’ve already sat through at least two episodes that are significantly, qualitatively worse than Bad Eggs, as well as four or five episodes where I suspect you could make the case either way.  And before this season is over I will have watched two more episodes that are definitely worse, too.  Off the top of my head, there are at least two worse episodes next season too.  And at least two more in every season after that.  In fact, I’m pretty sure I could name a couple of dozen worse episodes than this one without much trouble.

But yeah, it’s not great.

(And yet somehow I'm not finished talking about it.)

Beyond the obvious bit of foreshadowing (“sex can have negative consequences!” a teacher reminds a health class that Buffy’s unfortunately absent from, one episode before Buffy is destined to discover for herself that sex can indeed have negative consequences), the thing that I always remember about this episode is the way that same health class teacher – whose name is Mr Whitmore, we’ll learn later – explains how the egg-raising project he’s setting his students will work.

“You will split into parenting teams.  You and your partner will share equally in the daily task of raising your egg.  Now, please choose a partner.”

Note the words in bold.  The kids will be raising their eggs in partnerships.  Let’s make a note of this for future reference.  It seems to be important!

Well, it is.  Sort of.  Until it isn’t. 

You see, the episode sets things up like this for exactly two reasons.

The first is to have Xander and Cordelia very deliberately not partner up, showing us that … oh, look, sorry, I can’t pretend to take the Xander/Cordelia subplot seriously and I won’t even try.  It’s just very silly.  They both have very weird and conflicting feelings about their nascent relationship for reasons that boil down to this: it simply doesn’t make any sense.  Let’s move on.

The second and, I think, primary reason for the partnership set-up is so that Buffy can find out she wasn’t assigned a partner of her own (there are an odd number of students in the class). On finding this out, Buffy laments that she is now “a single mother … doomed to live my mother’s life”.  

In fact, the episode is so keen for Buffy to reach this conclusion that she initially assumes she has been assigned a partner.  Even before anybody tells her the assignment was structured that way. Even though Buffy wasn’t in class to be told about it, and even though her only reaction on being shown the egg in question was befuddlement.  

Buffy is presented with the egg, assumes it must be some sort of “fairly abstract” punishment, and on being told that she has to take care of it immediately realizes that this is the sort of hard work that can only be done by a team of two.  “My partner ... who did I get?” she asks hopefully.  Well, okay, I guess. Maybe that’s how Mr Whitmore sets up all his assignments.

In any case, we know that these are the only two reasons the egg assignment is described this way, because after Buffy expresses her horror at the prospect of becoming a single mother, the concept of the egg raising being done with a partner is never mentioned again.

Not only is it not raised again, a moment’s thought shows it is completely at odds with the actual plot of the episode.

The rest of Bad Eggs proceeds exactly as if each of the students has sole custody of their eggs.  We see the eggs hatch at night, and strange creatures climb out to possesses the students taking care of them.  What happens to the other student in the partnership, the one who didn’t take the egg home that night?  What does Xander’s partner think about the fact he boiled their shared egg? Are they in on the scheme? What do they think about the fact he named it “Xander Junior”?  We don’t know, because we don’t know who Xander’s partner is and we will never find out.  We never see his egg partner, or Willow’s, or Cordelia’s.  They do not exist.  They will never exist.  For the episode to work, they cannot have existed.

And why would Mr Whitmore, presumably already possessed by sinister egg creatures at this point, want to limit the distribution of eggs like this?  Doesn’t he want to possess as many students as possible? Just give them all individual eggs! We know that there are plenty more of them to go around, because later in this episode we see lots of other people get possessed by the egg creatures – Giles, Joyce and Jonathan to name just a few – people who very clearly were not in the original health class.

No, I’m pretty sure that the only reason the script pretends that the eggs are being raised in partnerships at the start is so that Buffy can worry about becoming her mother.  Something that she has never expressed any concern about before, something the episode never even pretends to comes back to, and something that Buffy herself won’t worry about again for another seventy-one episodes (and then only in vastly different circumstances).  

And “how deeply scary is that?” is asked as a rhetorical question, but I’m going with … “not very?”.  We see Buffy fight monsters every night; we’ve seen her mourn friends; we’ve seen her drown and die.  Surely being a single mother isn’t quite so scary compared to all of that?  Especially when, again, Buffy hasn’t ever shown any signs of thinking her mom is unlucky to be a single mother.  Just last episode it was a plot point that Buffy wasn’t happy about her mother meeting somebody new!  Buffy clearly doesn’t think her life would be better if her mother was seeing somebody, so why does she think her mother’s life is so terrible as it is?

What does Buffy’s little speech in the library mean?  What are we supposed to take away from it?  Why did the script go to all that trouble of setting it up?

But just to ask the question is to put more thought into the substance and meaning of this episode than I think anybody involved in writing it did.  

In an interview a few years ago, Marti Noxon (who wrote not just this episode but also most of What’s My Line?, as well as next week’s Surprise and two further episodes this season alone) described the pace of writing episodes for the show as “bananas”.  In that interview she also suggested that sometimes episodes had to be written in as little as four days, generally without much support or involvement from the rest of the writing team, but noted that “sometimes that results in really good writing”.

Maybe sometimes it does. I will say that I think that two of Noxon’s episodes this season are genuinely very good, to say nothing of future episodes she’ll write like Consequences and The Prom and Forever.  But sometimes it results in … well, Bad Eggs.  Not even close to the worst episode ever, despite the fandom consensus, but certainly not something worth thinking too hard about either.

Or as the script has Xander say, in what could easily be meta commentary on the episode itself:

“It says nothing.  It means nothing.  This whole egg experiment is completely pointless.”

[stuffnonsenseandotherthings]

Watch It Or Drop It - A 2024 Drama Challenge

As always, the impending chime of a brand New Year just around the corner is stirring up the age old urge to Sort My Life Out somewhere deep inside me and rekindled the burning flame of No I Really Mean It This Time once more.

So far this has meant deep cleaning my house with a fervour rarely seen outside of the pages of the most fanatic of Cleaning Tiktokers (something which will definitely have faded even before the clock strikes 12), setting up a planning and organisational system so that my life can go smoothly for once (that will probably last until summer after which point I'll be so sun addled I'll stop caring about to-do lists altogether), and forcing myself to confront my mountain of unread books (by placing them accusingly next to my bed so I can wake up and fall asleep to them until the growing sense of guilt forces me to hide them in a cupboard).

No a bad start if I may say so myself. It's not even 2024 yet and things are already looking Sorted.

Joking aside though, while there are, as there usually are, big (potentially life changing) goals that I want to work towards this year and which will take a fair bit of work and/or courage on my part to make happen, there are also smaller ones. Manageable ones. Silly ones. Ones that'll make the whole year just a little bit more fun. For example: clearing my MyDramalist Want-To-Watch list.

Because there are 84 dramas on that list and while some of them haven't aired yet, over two thirds of them are fully complete and sitting patiently, ready for me to watch at my own leisure whenever I want.

And, unfortunately, up until now I've been so over-faced with how many dramas there were waiting for me that I didn't want.

At all.

As in I was actively avoiding watching anything off my Want-To-Watch list.

As you can imagine this has been frustrating because 1) this is the opposite of what a Want-To-Watch it's for (I put the dramas on there for a reason after all) and 2) not very conducive to making the big, scary number go down, quite the opposite in fact.

So I've found myself at a bit of an impasse.

And to break that impasse I have come up with (what I hope is) a foolproof solution (because there is nothing more fool than having to trick yourself into doing something you want to do anyway).

The Watch It Or Drop It Challenge

Rationale:

I have been avoiding watching dramas on my Want-To-Watch list because:

1) I'm feeling overwhelmed with the amount of dramas currently on there and end up feeling time pressured to watch them all.

2) Linked to this, I'm worried about making the "wrong choice" (i.e not enjoying which ever drama I pick and being disappointed about something I was previously excited for, being in the wrong mood for a drama I would have otherwise enjoyed) leading to analysis/choice paralysis where I end up being unable to pick anything at all.

As such I need a system that:

1) Takes aways the element of choice, at least in the initial stages.

2) Removes some of the pressure to enjoy every drama I pick and allows me to celebrate both a "watch" or a "drop".

Rules:

1) Dramas are selected completely at random using a random number picker (this random number picker to be precise, isn't she gorgeous?).

Unless it hasn't aired yet (in which case I obviously can't watch it, I'll do a lot for this challenge but not bend time and physics) I have to give it a go. I can't spin the wheel again. What I get is what I watch (or drop).

2) I watch it or I drop it (self-explanatory, really, given the name of the challenge but it's something my brain clearly needs reinforced otherwise we wouldn't be here in the first place). A drop has just as much "value" as a watch in terms of continuing my learning curve about my drama tastes and there's no shame in not liking something I thought I would enjoy.

3) I can take as long as I need to decide if it's a watch or a drop, the only condition is that if I am watching it, I actually have to be enjoying it. This is not an endurance test or an exercise in how long I can guilt myself into watching something (5 minutes before the end of the final episode is the current record by the way, incase anyone's interested), this is me making sure I...

4) ✨ Have fun ✨ There are many things in life that aren't fun, watching dramas should not be one of those things (although they are allowed to make me so uncontrollably, that I will allow, nay even encourage).

🎉 And there we have it! My own little challenge for 2024 🎉

I'm feeling very pleased with myself but let's see how long I can keep it up, unless something drastic happens I'm planning to start a little early and pick the first drama tomorrow. I'm going to be post the whole challenge here (which dramas get picked, pre-watch thoughts, whether I watched or dropped it and why, etc) for accountability's sake because I know myself well enough to know that if I don't then this whole meticulous plan isn't happening. I also think it could be a nice little momento, if this whole challenge is successful, something to look back on from the time I bravely took on and defeated a list of my own creation.

And so without further ado,

[sxstheticx]

Secret |K.th|

|Pairing|• Demon spirit Kth× f.reader

|Genre|• Horror au, with some mentions of thriller.

|Summary|• People think that it's easy to run away from there past, but they just think...

|Warning|• Mentions of dollification, homicide, Non-con and tortures, demons and hell. In short, it is pretty disturbing.

|Disclaimer|•This is a fiction means the storyline,character's behaviour, everything is fictional. I have used idols names here for a good and clear imagination so there real-life don't have anything related to this. The storyline and banner is mine so kindly don't copy or repost.Read at your own choice.

"So you are saying that a lifeless doll is harassing you ?", The officer inquired in what seemed a mocking way.

"It's not lifeless", You replied with a blank face, it's hard to convey emotions for your face now.

The officer again scoffed in mockery as his plumpy, pink lips opened again to speak, " See miss, i don't know what is wrong with you but we can't really write a complaint with this type of information, we have already investigated your apartment and found nothing, so we humbly ask you to leave since we can't help you to escape your "lively" doll."

His words took your last bit of hope as you stood up, picking your bag from side.

You were about to leave when Officer Jimin Park, spoke again, "Even though, your case is clearly not something to be cared of, you seem serious so miss please contact us if something goes wrong"

This time, you scoffed on him just doing his duty, and definitely not believing you.

---

You sighed as you stared at the door, deciding to open it or not.You had no option, and no one to rely or take opinions from so you put the key in the keyhole, as the door opened creating a creek sound.You have never been this scared to come home.

Not finding anyone, your heart finally beated a beat of relief as you again observed the living room.

You had a simple yet comforting apartment, a glass wall differentiating between the room and balcony which had black curtain to hide the sunlight when needed. A black sofa, with a white table infront to keep things on and a beautiful painting hanging on the plane light grey wall.

The curtains were flying indicating the upcoming heavy rain and the cold soft wind was flowing inside giving satisfaction to what ever it touched.

You put your sneakers in the shoe rack taking off your coat, and went to sit on the sofa.

You were still a bit scared, since it was there in the same roof as yours, most probably watching your nervous movements.

But it didn't come to confront you, and slowly you were getting tired of waiting and leaned on the sofa to relax your back.

Your eyelids were heavy due to your increasing insomnia, the current limit was maximum 2-3 hours and the deep dark red bag on your pale skin under your eyes clearly showed this.

And it happened, you expectedly slept.

You hardly slept for half a hour when a soft but cold sensation was felt on your left cheek.

Opening your eyes, you finally met your end...

-----

-Flashback-

You were not so fond of dolls, well coming to this museum type place wasn't even in your list but...

Your boyfriend waited 6 months to get the tickets for this and when he could not go at last, he had no option but to send you here to lighten his guilt.

Surprisingly you were enjoying... laughing on the weird for you drawings or we say "paintings". Dirty thoughts entered your innocent mind seeing the naked portraits on display.

At last, you were roaming in the statue area with some dolls in there, there were many but your eyes stopped at a pair of 7 dolls, all breathtakingly attractive.

But what caught your sight the most was that one doll

It was beautiful, no something which proves beautiful ugly.

Its features were mesmerizing, especially his eyes, they sure held a bit of sadness in them but they were magnificent.

And here you are, getting scolded by your boyfriend because you just spent you two months saving on a doll.

"Nammie, please I won't ask for video games for the next 12 years",

You pleaded wanting his forgiveness but his muscular body stood tall infront of you and his dragon eyes glared with disappointment.

"You know we could buy 12 dozens of amazing books with half of that money, y/n atleast you should have informed me before buying", namjoon spoke sighing, he just showered thus was not wearing a shirt and was looking pretty hot for you. But bad luck, his mood was hot with anger too.

It's not like the price matters, you both earn six figures a year because of being doctors, yup namjoon is in his middle thirties and you're in your late twenties so you're still learning not to use money brainlessly, meanwhile whatever namjoon invests his salary into has a profit for you both.

And this is not the first time, you bought a lot of branded bags and clothes before and his scolding ended after a day or hardly two but this time it's been three days and he keeps telling you that he feels something is wrong about that doll and always weirdly asks you to burn it, you completely don't agree with him, you bought it because how lifeless it looked except for his eyes, yeah his eyes have started scaring you now so you make sure to tie a ribbon on his eyes.

---

You were sitting in your backyard, enjoying the cloudy black weather.

Namjoon, today he had a 48 hrs shift and on the other side you had a day off after your 24 hrs shift, well nothing's less than 24 hrs as neurosurgeons.

Since you bought that doll, namjoon became distant from you, alot distant, he has now somewhat stopped coming home and that is confusing for you.

Soon as expected, it started raining so you stood up, and went inside your house.

Today every was so quiet so you decided to checkout your collection of unexpected branded things you got scolded for and that doll...

You opened the door of your walk in closet, and unlocked the glass shelf with that doll in it, your other hand held your coffee mug and you took it out leaving.

But before you could, you slipped on the fluffy carpet and splash, you beautiful nope making beautiful ugly doll was now soaked in coffee, his clothes were soaked but not even a drop touched his face, you groaned standing up.

You sighed in relief after cleaning the area and turned around to look at your doll, which was still wet and even a drop did not dry up.

You took it, entering your bathroom and went towards you sink, wait no let's just wash it in the bath tub, doll have feelings too right.

You moved towards the bath tub, and took off the ribbon on his eyes, damn you really can't stand his eyes anymore.

Ignoring his eyes, you took off his shirt and went towards the sink to wash it, the pants weren't much soaked so they did not need a wash.

While you were busy rubbing the fabric under the water, you did not notice something changing in the bath tub.

"babygirl"

A sound, more like a whisper, echoed in your ears as your movement stopped.

'Babygirl' that nickname reminds you something or someone.

You put the now neat clothes somewhere to dry up, and took a small face towel and went towards the bath tub.

To your suprise, you left doll in a lying position but now it was sitting there, but you did not put much effort thinking why and just covered that doll in the towel and walked out of the bathroom.

Babygirl, that name was still echoing the same in your ears as you opened your school album, to find out something.

You flipped pages till you finally found that person,

Kim Taehyung, he was the one, the only one who called you babygirl.

You and namjoon started dating when you both were in highschool, and in the same highschool was this guy.

He was a lover of yours, and also a stalker, he would send you chocolates, gifts, books and alot of roses daily.

He knew what you loved, what you did not and always came as protective towards you.

But when you rejected his proposal because you were dating Namjoon, he did something unexpected, he tried to kill namjoon.

Though, Namjoon's boxing skills saved him and after that you never saw Kim Taehyung.

Till now, today when you heard that whisper, it reminded you of him.

---

"Namjoonie, i wanted to ask you something", you spoke as soon as namjoon answered your call.

"Yes baby, say", he spoke from another side.

"You remember Kim Taehyung", you said as namjoon stopped doing whatever he was doing.

"wh-who ?", He said, stuttering.

"that guy, the highschool one", his breathe kind of stopped at your words.

You noticed his strange behaviour, but shrugged it off and spoke again," You know what happened today, i heard that nickname, by which he used to call me... babygirl"

His eyes widened at this line, as he finally spoke something, "Y-Y/n ,i am busy so let's talk later"

Before you speak something, he declined the call.

Again he behaved strangely infront of you, you sighed keeping your phone aside and laid on your bed, again thinking what happened.

It can't be a hallucination, you heard it clearly and it was his voice, same deepness and same husky voice.

You were tired after all the day, and wanted some sleep so you left your thoughts closing your eyes.

---

You moaned, feeling something or someone pounding on you, hard and deep with every thrust.

You tried to move but that someone held you waist, pulling you closer and stopping you from moving and moved faster inside you.

You finally opened your eyes just for them to be widened, "Taehyung" you thought as his lips curved in a villainous smirk.

He held the back of your neck with his other hand while the other one was on your waist, pulling you closer and closer.

He kissed your lips almost eating them while you struggled to stop him, "M-Move, leave me!" You shouted between the kiss.

He stopped, staring deeply and at your eyes, still moving rough inside you.

"You know babygirl, i left you thinking that i will finally find peace, i realised that i did not love you but was just obsessed with you so i left that school, your boyfriend didn't defeat me i left him half dead"

He stopped for a moment, groaning in pleasure of your sobs and held your hips.

"but you dear boyfriend didn't like peace, 3 years later i came in your boyfriend's hospital, with my pregnant wife, unfortunately you boyfriend knew the doctor who was going to deliver my wife's baby and on his words, that doctor intentionally killed my baby and my wife died because of the pain of losing our child"

You noticed pain on his face but soon the pain was exchanged with anger as he started pounding on you this time like a beast making your screams louder, but no one was there to hear them.

"when i got to know about it, i came to his office for answer but that motherfvcker killed me, he drugged me so that any case won't be filed on him and when all of this was happening, that doll was there the one you have in your house", his lips again formed a smirk looking at your terrified eyes.

"believe or not i don't care but i got connected to it, and here i am, still burning in the fire of revenge, he killed the one i love with pain, i will kill the one he loves with pain, sorry babygirl but welcome to hell", he laughed maniacally, and bite your neck creating a deep mark which had blood coming out of it.

The night went long, and he didn't stop for a second making you suffer.

---

You were sitting lifelessly, on the ground in a blanket to cover your body.

You looked up at the door as you heard it being unlocked, it revealed namjoon.

He was shocked looking at your state and ran towards you, that's when someone hit him with a hammer on his head, who else other than Taehyung, that beast.

After he tied namjoon with a chair, namjoon started to wake up slowly, and looked at Taehyung, horrified.

"Remember me brother", Taehyung scoffed looking at the scared namjoon.

Namjoon soon realised what was happening.

"what did you say that day, i will never get her even if i try to, and you will kill me the day i do, but i am already dead brother, what will you do now ?", He asked namjoon in a mocking way as he walked towards you.

You became scared again as he held you and threw you on the bed, "I promised you before dying that i will fuvk the shit out of your girlfriend if i came back, i will gladly fullfill my promise brother", saying that he removed the blanket from your body.

It all started again, but namjoon did not try to do anything just watched the torture happening while mumbling "i am sorry" each second.

You did not do anything to face this, and he knew that.

Again the torture went going for hours, you didn't shout this time, there was no energy left for shouting.

After Taehyung was done, with his torture, he opened the ropes on Namjoon's body and sat back on the bed, like he knew what namjoon was going to do.

You didn't even turn your head to look at namjoon, you had no courage to look at him after what he has done.

But you looked at him, when you heard the gun-shot of his gun, just to find him dead on the floor, eyes still open with apology in them as Taehyung maniac laugh haunted you again.

You stood up, running towards namjoon, you put his head on your lap and cried, you lost your only support now.

Taehyung came, sitting beside you as his hands coiled around your waist, you breathe stopped when he put his head on your shoulder sucking your neck.

"you know what baby, i was thinking to end this after he is dead, but i am a demon now, i am immortal so why don't i take you with me to hell, to make you my slave, after all demons are lustful, right ?"

He picked you up, you lap still covered with blood and again put you on the bed, opening your legs and entering you.

-----

-Flashback ends-

After that day, when office Park came to your house to meet you, he found nothing but your dead body on the sofa.

It was declared a suicide and neither you nor namjoon got justice just like Taehyung, his wife and son.

---

You looked blankly at the window, while Taehyung fuvked you senselessly moaning and groaning.

"Ahh, babygirl you feel heaven even in hell", he held your legs and put them on his shoulders, thrusting inside you in an inhuman speed.

Like every other demon, he does not has even a bit mercy in him and used you like his slave daily.

You did not knew how to escape, and had no option other than obeying and pleasuring him.

It happened daily, he fuvked you and you looked out of the window of the palace while being used by him , at Namjoon's soul still looking at you, asking for forgiveness which he will never get...

[autumnalwalker]

Empty Names - 6 - Background Checks

Author's Note: And now for a brief rundown of the party's backstories, albeit filtered through the lens of Sullivan being a dismissive cynical jerk. The narration may be third-person, but unreliability due to the influence of the current PoV character is fun to play with. Word Count: 3,024 Content Warnings: References to dead bodies, faking the death of a child, what may or may not have been a kidnapping, and supernatural factors causing transitioning to go angst-inducingly slow.

<-Previous Chapter Masterpost Next Chapter->

For all its gothic gloom during the night, Bridgewood Manor is surprisingly well-lit during the day.  Mostly this is due to Carnette having installed large windows looking out onto alien landscapes in most of the rooms and halls not directly connected to the building’s outer shell as a flex on visitors, but - much like her - that is quite literally neither here nor there at the moment.  No, Sullivan’s gaze is set on his laptop.  The vista behind him is only worthy of his attention insofar as it’s creating an annoying glare on his screen, and even that he’s pointedly ignoring.  To move from his overstuffed chair to a seat with less glare would be letting the window win, and he’s not about to concede to an inanimate object in a contest of wills.  

And so Sullivan commences his last-minute review of files with the sun shining indirectly in his eyes.  It’s been two weeks since he agreed to his friend’s latest ill-conceived venture, and every day of it’s been busy.  Now his friend is out wrapping up details with a client for an initial test run job - he refuses to call it a quest - and wants to bring in the new team - definitely not an adventuring party - tomorrow.  Of course, the new office space - no way in any hell is he calling it “the guildhall” - still isn’t ready yet so now he has to play host.  After spending the past three days getting the full staff of cleaning and maintenance constructs up and running again to make the manor presentable once more he finally has a free moment to go back over the compiled dossiers of the newest round of poor saps to get pulled in by his friend’s wide-eyed idealism.  It’s an exercise that’s one part risk management and one part intimidation tactic.  Nothing like casually alluding to secrets to get fools in line.

The musclehead’s first on the list.  Eris.  First Backstage encounter at seventeen, dropped out of the local community college, got a job as a long-haul trucker - plenty of liminal spaces for spooks to slip through in that line of work - shortly thereafter, and has been making waves in the monster hunter community ever since.  After two years of that she found Crossherd and for some reason got herself a day job with the city’s sanitation department.  An odd choice to have a day job at all for a hunter, but then again Sullivan’s seen enough sewer monsters and bodies left in dumpsters to figure there’s probably more overlap between the two professions than anyone wants to admit.

Only limited contact with her family or anyone else on set, so cleanup should be easy if she bites the dust.

Sullivan starts flicking through an archive of gathered images.  High school yearbook, crime scene footage, commercial driver’s license, group photos pulled from other hunters’ social media accounts, security camera stills, Dog Park volunteer outreach materials, medical records, discreet surveillance from paid informants.  His friend wasn’t kidding about the autogenesis; that’s not a physique anyone’s pulling off without either magic or a damn-near lethal amount of drugs, and if the collateral damage to buildings and vehicles from some of these aftermath shots of hunts are anything to go by, she’s even stronger than she looks.  Sullivan chuckles to himself.  It looks like she’s living up to her moniker with the messes she leaves behind.  On the other hand, he’s yet to be able to turn up anyone with a bad word to say about her, so hopefully his friend’s right in their own assessment of her.

Still though, he can’t help but wonder if that body is a manifestation of pride or self-loathing.  The last thing they need is her getting pushed over the edge by something and going full monster.  That almost never happens, but it’s always ugly when it does.

All in all, the kind of person Sullivan would expect to reply to his invitation for purchase requests with a gym’s worth of exercise equipment and a small armory’s worth of weapons.  Oh, and what’s this?  A follow-up email adding an armored van to the list.  Why not?  She did bring him that fascinating and delicious-looking specimen the other day.  

Sullivan makes a note to call his car guy later, mentally files away Eris as “dumb, friendly, expendable wrecking ball and meat shield” and then switches over to the techie’s profile.  Lacuna.  He’d thought the name sounded familiar when his friend told him about Eris’s recommendation.  As it turned out, she’d been one of the victims on the penultimate job the two of them had worked before their spat.  He’d say “small world” but he’s always gone back and forth on the nature of coincidence.  

But as for the file, it’s usually been his experience that the less his research turns up the more likely there’s a secret to be found, but in this case he’s starting to suspect this woman really is just that boring.  Schooling with no records of extracurriculars from elementary through university.  No social life to speak of.  Half a dozen social media accounts with no posts.  A few profiles on job hunt sites.  Employment records with a software startup that was never more than moderately successful.  And then a reset of the same boring stuff all over again after falling Backstage.  A job at a similar company on Crossherd doing similar work but with paratech.  A few purchases of books on witchcraft followed by attending a single seminar then never returning - the usual sign of a wannabe mage realizing they have no potential.  Still no social life, save for the informants looking into Eris spotting the two of them together on a semi-regular basis.

Just two tidbits that stuck out to Sullivan in the end that he’d made a note of at the bottom of the profile a few days ago to follow up on later.  The first was that the paratech company this Lacuna had been working for was bought out a month back and RevaTech, the new parent company, had scrubbed the public records of whatever their new acquisition had been working on.  Suspicious on the surface but pretty standard fare for RevaTech, and they almost certainly would have slapped anyone that didn’t stay on with a geas-enforced NDA, so it wasn’t like she’d be able to say or do anything to make her old work relevant.

The second part was her family.  Well, not the immediate family.  Just a couple of normies for parents that, if phone records and airplane tickets were anything to go by, she still keeps in touch with.  No sign of a Masquerade breach though.  Good luck to her keeping that up.  The extended family on the other hand, now that had a few names that were giving Sullivan a niggling feeling of recognition.  Strange, but with everything else pointing toward Lacuna having no prior Backstage knowledge before a few years ago, he’d designated further research low priority.

As for her physical profile, a classic example of the other side of autogenesis.  A scarecrow of sickly skin and bone hiding under baggy clothes.  The exact kind of exaggeration you’d expect to manifest in a shut-in nerd with confidence issues.  Definitely not someone they’d be getting any fieldwork out of.  Looks like the autogenesis might even be holding back her transition.  That does manage to get a rare twinge of sympathy from him.  He’d not had that problem himself, but it’s not the first time he’s seen fear of change being impossible outweighing one’s identity.  Might be worth keeping an eye on what happens if she ever gets over those doubts; could make for an interesting rebound effect.

That said, Sullivan’s just about to finish mentally filing it all away as “boring IT tech to shove paperwork off onto” and move onto the next profile when he notices she finally sent in her equipment request last night.  About damn time.  Looking at the list, he wonders aloud what his friend told her she’d be doing.  Multiple high-end server racks.  Drones.  Projectors.  3D printers compatible with esoteric materials.  Blast-proof safety glass.  Laser cutters.  And “one small potted tree; bonsai or similar”.  Either she’s messing with him or those notes for followup need higher priority after all.  Approved in full either way.

That leaves the wizard.  Ashan Glassheart.  Unlike the last two, there hadn’t been any public records apart from the obituary of a nine-year-old boy over a decade ago.  Fortunately, Sullivan had been keeping tabs on this kid for years now.  Anchor world born mages with offworld training are the kind of rarity worth keeping an eye on when they crop up, whether you’re looking to capitalize on them or stay out of their way.  As much as it irks him to admit, there’s some truth to the oft-repeated story structure of “normal kid goes to a magical otherworld and becomes a big damn hero”.  Sure, no one likes to talk about when it goes wrong, but on the times it goes right you can wind up with some truly bullshit feats of bending reality.

Like Carnette.

No, no one’s like Carnette.

Sullivan shakes his head, as if that actually does anything to clear the passing thought and turns his attention back to the file in front of him.  Back to this Glassheart kid.

And he is a kid compared to everyone else that’s going to be on this team.  Barely out of his teens, assuming an approximate temporal sync between worlds.  Probably the most experienced of the three though, despite that.  It hadn’t been easy connecting the off-world mage who picked up the mantle of wandering do-gooder that Sullivan’s friend left floating on the wind to a supposedly dead child, but once he came across a report of an individual matching Glassheart’s description setting up wards around the private residence of some normie family the pieces started to fall into place.  After that it was just a matter of collecting old news reports from the area - mundane and Backstage - exhuming an empty grave in the dead of night, and calling in a favor with an offworld contact to put together a picture of who this kid was.  Exhuming the grave was probably unnecessary in hindsight, but Sullivan had reached peak boredom at the time, and that was half the reason for investigating in the first place if he was being honest with himself.

The story, Sullivan imagines, goes something like this:

Once upon a time, in a sleepy little small down in the ass-end of nowhere lived a little boy.  This little boy, ever since he could remember, had lived a magical childhood, with all manner of sprites and fairies and monsters roaming the woods outside his home.  This is actually quite normal for small children in sleepy little towns in the ass-end of nowhere, although most dismiss it as playing pretend once they get older, except on nights when they are fantastically drunk and/or tripping balls.  Or they get gobbled up.  That’s been known to happen too.  

What set this little boy apart was one day an honest to goodness wizard by the name of Aliana Glassgaze appeared before him and told him he had a magical destiny if only he would leave his family behind and come with her to another world called Orthon.  The little boy, like any healthy young boy presented with the opportunity to go on a grand adventure and gain wizardly powers, accepted this offer.  But he was a good boy who didn’t want his parents to worry themselves looking for him, so he did the reasonable thing and faked his death - a wonderfully thrilling experience, as Sullivan can attest from multiple occasions.

On Orthon, the little boy traveled all over with Glassgaze learning magic and going on all sorts of fun adventures.  But probably not too fun because he mostly liked lame pacifist spells for making walls and bubbles and instead of cool spells like fireball and bone rearranger.  Eventually the little boy became a moody teenager and then a definitely emotionally stable young adult, completed his training, took on the wizard name Ashan Glassheart - as is traditional on Orthon to show the bond between student and teacher - then at last parted ways with his mentor and came home over a decade later to play super hero with his new wizard powers.  But because secret identities are lame and real heroes are living icons twenty-four seven with no personal life, he skipped the most fun part of faking your death and didn’t show up to surprise and distress all the people who attended his funeral.

Oh, and for some reason he runs around in cosplay despite claiming to have never heard of this season’s new hit shojo anime, Crystal Witch Arya, starring a near-identically dressed protagonist nor met the author behind the manga it’s based on.  That’s one mystery Sullivan’s thrown into the “funny, but too stupid to bother solving” pile.

All in all - especially having seen the boy in action personally - Sullivan mentally files this one as “valuable asset, especially if his hero’s journey left him with emotional maturity instead of repressed trauma.”  Not quite valuable enough though to grant his sole equipment request of access to the Bridgewood Manor Library.  Well, maybe the lesser library.  Under supervision.

Sullivan exits out of the files and closes the laptop.  That’s enough looking at these clowns for today.  Void knows he’s going to get more than his fill of them in person soon enough.  Funny though that no one on this team uses the name they were born with.

He stands up, stretches, and walks off, leaving the laptop on the chair.  It’s not like anyone else is here to get into it, and he can always send a cleaning golem to fetch it later if he doesn’t feel like coming back for it himself.  Besides, his next spot of research to catch up on isn’t going to have a digital source.

Thankfully, his friend’s asked him to try picking up from where their leads on their “big quest” have hit a dead end, and that means he’ll be working that case solo while everyone else is doing team building exercises.  Said dead end turned out to be fairly literal, with the base of operations for a multi-word smuggling ring cleaned out of all its goods and all its members slaughtered thoroughly enough that attempts to call up their ghosts or reanimate their bodies to ask what happened have failed.  The hours not spent violating his soon-to-be-coworkers’ privacy or fixing up the parts of the manor he’d been letting slide lately he’s been making visits to old contacts - from Eyeball Jerry, the street food vendor with a side hustle as an info broker, to Edard Jariden, the Crossherd Commissioner of Public Safety whom he’d had a two month fling with back when the man was still an intern - and somehow none of them knew anything more than speculation.  None of the local players - criminal or otherwise - were taking credit, the incident didn’t fit the MO of any of the handful of outside groups with a history of meddling in Crossherd’s affairs, and if there were any survivors or associates of the smugglers they’d all disappeared.  Or been disappeared.  If Sullivan hadn’t been so starved for a proper challenge lately, he might even call it frustrating.

But for the moment, he’s simply intrigued.  No, not “simply” intrigued.  Invested enough to go downstairs and unlock the manor’s greater library again.  If he can’t find anything on the dead smugglers, perhaps he might be able to dig up something on what they were smuggling.  His friend said that it was the theft of a device capable of binding and controlling lesser deiform entities that got them on this trail in the first place, and that is the sort of thing Carnette had an interest in.  With any luck he might be able to find a match in the library and from there… well, that will depend on what he finds.

He stops in the middle of the hallway in front of a blank spot on the wall between a four-armed suit of armor and a marble statue of a long-bearded wizard.  He reaches out and knocks a rhythm on the wall.  Once upon a time the passcode would change twice a year, but the teasing inside joke Carnette left it on last still causes the wall to slide open.  On the other side is a gilded spiral staircase descending down a long stone tube.  A good meter of empty space separates the edge of the stairs from the outer wall.  Room enough for the adventurous to slide the whole way down the banister or for the exceptionally durable to jump.

Sullivan puts a foot forward but hesitates on the threshold as memories rise unbidden.  Carnette showing off the false windows to other worlds spaced along the shaft to give the impression of descending from the heavens to deep beneath the sea during his first visit.  The ornate door at the bottom.  Being pushed over the edge of the banister.

He forces the memories back down and takes another step only to be interrupted once again, this time by tugging at his pant leg.  He looks down to see a fist-sized black orb suspended on eight spindly legs.  Or rather, suspended on seven and getting his attention with the eighth.  Seeing that it has its master’s attention, the maintenance golem begins making a series of chittering noises.  Sullivan sighs and rolls his eyes in response.

“You know I can’t understand you,” he says, “so just get on with it.”

The golem squeaks and begins scurrying down the hallway.  Sullivan closes the hidden door with another - less elaborate - knock and then follows after the tiny servitor.  Either his friend is back or there’s something broken in an area that needs explicit permission from the master of the house to enter.  Either way, it’s something best not kept waiting.

And it’s an excuse to keep putting off going back down there for at least a little while longer.

<-Previous Chapter Masterpost Next Chapter->

[bratkook]

right now. (m) jjk.

not yet, almost , right now

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, smut, idiots to lovers!! word count. 14.8k warnings. two mega fucking idiots<33, miscommunication/dumb assumptions, smut in forms of: fingering, oral sex (f.), orgasm denial, spanking, some spit bc duh, unprotected sex, super sweet & lovey!! also jungkook is a sweetheart pls love him summary. coming to terms with your feelings after getting off to the idea of your close friend is a little harder than you thought, but how long can you take before jungkook decides its time to move on? note. did jlin forget how to write for a few weeks? yes, yes she did....i know this took a long time but life is rough man so forgive me... but anyways lol the final part to the not yet!verse is hereeeee! thank you to @kithtaehyung​ for reading this over for me ily!! thank you guys for enjoying this mini series, the response was really unexpected but im sososo happy over every comment/ask i’ve gotten for this story. once again, tysm for your love and let me know what you think<3

The evening sun illuminates Jungkook’s apartment, golden hour bouncing off every reflective surface and straight into his eyes the second he walks in, immediately squinting as he makes a beeline to shut the blinds. His head was already throbbing from the hangover that decided to peak around noon, a mean case of nausea putting a damper on his work day. So as much as he loved soaking in some vitamin D today was not the day. 

“Are you joking?” he huffs as he brings down the blinds, hand yanking at the flimsy string in an attempt to get it unstuck. “How stup—you’d think with the amount I pay every month in rent the blinds would work!” 

Alright, so maybe he was a little grumpy today, choosing to take it out on an inanimate object and blame it purely on the bad decisions made last night—definitely had nothing to do with the residual moping of you going on a date. This could be fixed, easily. 

The first order of business? Texting you to see if you’d be interested in devouring greasy food from your favorite place down the street. He’d get to see you and finally put something in his stomach, it’s the best of both worlds really. 

Jungkook forgets about the blinds, leaving them stuck in the awkward position as he walks away entirely, fishing his phone out of his pocket while he enters his room. It’s the same text he always sends when he’s hangry: If I don’t get food in the next 15 mins I'm burning this place down and taking you with me. 

He knows the response he’ll get, either that meme of the child in front of a burning house or an equally hangry paragraph. The phone gets tossed onto his bed as he changes out of his work clothes, needing to dispose of the business casual attire that was suffocating him, his old college hoodie giving him the comfort he needs. 

By the time he’s finally slipping on his sneakers he’s expecting you to come knocking on his door, your impatient attitude always putting a smile on his face. Half of the time your neighbors thought you were having arguments from the way you’d pound onto the slab of wood, saying his name with just enough annoyance laced into each syllable it would fool anyone into thinking you were actually upset instead of being a brat. But when that never comes, he reaches for his phone again. 

A few notifications fill up his screen, some instagram direct message previews, his group chat that he never responded to, and a few emails coming through, but you had yet to respond. Maybe it’s a little creepy, but Jungkook knows you’re home because he passed by your parked car on his way in. So his mind jumps to two extremes: you were either face down, drowning in your bathtub, or that yellow shades wearing wannabe version of himself was at your place. 

Not an ounce of shame sits within him as he speedwalks to the side his bed was on, placing both palms onto the wall before his ear was pressed against the cold drywall. Jungkook’s not really sure what would make him feel good, hearing you and Jung Hoseok together, or hearing nothing at all. His ears strain to hear anything, but the only sound he gets is his own blood pumping. 

With a small pout he pulls back, deciding he’d play the annoying neighbor role today and pound on your door instead. It’s a role he doesn’t take lightly, knuckles banging on the wood loud enough for you to hear wherever you were in your apartment. It takes a few minutes before any sign of life is shown, your door creaking open, and Jungkook is thankful because he was about to head to the maintenance office to ask for a key in case you actually were drowning in your bathtub. 

“C’mon, let’s get food,” he declares instantly, a charming smile on his face as he stands with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. The smile slowly falls off when he gets a good look at you, hair looking like a mess on your head and your fluffy blanket draped around you as you give out a weak cough. “Are you sick?”

“I think so,” you rasp out, leaning against your door frame and tugging the blanket tighter around you. 

“Did that fucker give you mono?” Jungkook looks irritated, brows pinched together in a grimace—something you’re definitely not accustomed to seeing so you almost don’t catch his accusation.

“Jungkook, no! It’s nothing serious.”

He doesn’t look fully convinced, but he shrugs anyways, positive you weren’t interested in getting interrogated when you were feeling under the weather. “Alright, let me know if you need me to drive you to the doctor if it becomes something serious.”

With a roll of your eyes and a small smile, you wave him off, slowly shutting the door behind you. Your eye immediately peeks through your peephole, not relaxing until he makes his way down the hall and enters the elevator, still on his quest for greasy food. 

“God, how old are you?” you grumble to yourself, yanking the blanket off your body and onto the floor with a huff. Pretending to be sick to avoid your friend was a new low, especially after the post-orgasm epiphany you had last night. A sane person would come to terms with their feelings and confess to them, uncertainty and possible rejection be damned! But you? No, you have to fake a cold like the giant coward you are. 

The guilt only deepens when a knock comes from your door an hour later, a quick peek through your peephole allowing you to see Jungkook setting two plastic bags on the floor before stepping back and walking to his apartment next door. You don’t come out until you hear his door shut, seeing the logo of your favorite diner down the street. No doubt would your comfort meal be inside the takeaway container. 

It takes all you have to not rush over to his place and say you were lying when you see he had also gone ahead and got you cold medication, a few different bottles because he surely didn’t know which was best, along with teas and some cough drops. 

You’re a dirty liar. A horrible friend too. 

That doesn’t stop you from devouring the meal in the takeout box as you’re hunched over your breakfast bar like a little gremlin. “This is just for today,” you mumble out to yourself as you set the plastic fork down and chug some of the leftover alcohol you had in your fridge. It’s your own version of a pity party, except the food feels heavy in your stomach, knowing the man you were avoiding was the one who bought it—bring on the guilt. 

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

You’re a dirty liar and horrible friend 2.0. Why this time? Because tomorrow stretched out a few more days than planned. It wasn’t entirely intentional at first, getting stuck at work longer than usual and missing the weekly hangout at your place where you got your remote covered in cheeto dust as you argued over what to watch. But it trickled down onto shorter replies to his texts, or you scrambling out of your apartment and into the elevator so fast in order to not run into him, your mind still trying to list all the pros and cons to this potential relationship before you even had the guts to confess to your feelings. 

Jungkook didn’t know thats what was occupying your mind, no he was currently thinking the worst. He notices the change instantly, recognizing it because this was the exact way you had acted while you were with Hajoon, right before you broke the news to him that you needed to keep some distance while you focused on your relationship. So Jungkook automatically assumes that your sudden change in behavior after going on a single date with Jung Hoseok, was because you wanted to make your relationship with this man work. 

His assumption stings—a lot actually—and soon enough he stops initiating conversations altogether. He didn’t want to hear you tell him you had to distance yourself again, he’s not sure his heart could handle that a second time, so he decides to get ahead of the curb and take a massive step away from you. It hurts him to know you’re right next door, and just like before, it’s like you’re back to being total strangers. 

Safe to say Jungkook was currently going on his own downward spiral. 

You could text him like nothing had happened and he’d accept it with open arms, but instead you text your best friend an SOS text, begging her to meet you at your place. She calls you dramatic at first, but once you say it’s about Jungkook she shows up at your place in record time. 

“Did you finally fuck him?” Is her greeting of choice, spoken shamelessly from the hallway with no worry about her volume. She cackles when you yank the bottle of wine from her grasp and tug her into your apartment, letting the door slam behind her. 

“You’re lucky he’s not home you bitch.” An eye roll is her only response, yanking the bottle back and making her way into your kitchen to grab the opener. 

“So you didn’t fuck him?” The cork pops at her question, a curious glance staring you down as she pours the red liquid into an oversized cup. 

“No Seulgi, I didn’t fuck him. But I did...something.” It makes your face warm up as you remember it, gratefully grabbing the cup she hands your way because you definitely need some liquid courage before confessing to your sins.

She hums in thought as she raids your pantry for something to munch on, settling on a bag of mini pretzels before leading you to your couch, needing to know the gossip that led to your sos text. “Okay, did you accidentally send him a nude then?”

“No, that wouldn’t be so bad I think?” Sending him an accidental nude would be laughable, probably resolved by a few screaming texts and dumb jokes before moving on. But new feelings seeing the light of day seemed so much worse. “But I sort of kissed him at a club a few weeks ago to get back at Hajoon—long story,” you cut in when you see her ready to fire off questions. 

“And then I went on that failed Tinder date I told you about, and when I got home I sort of heard him, you know,”— you mimic a jerking off motion with your hand and ignore her lewd gasp, “and then I…” you trail off shamefully. 

“No!” she gasps even louder, hand pressed to her mouth and eyes wide. 

“Yes! And the fucking orgasm opened my eyes and made me realize that maybe that tiny crush you guys always joke about him having is real, and maybe I have a tiny crush on him too.”

“Does he know?”

“That I like him?”

“No, that you rubbed one out while listening to him you dirty slut!” Oh she’s loving this, leaning back into your cushions with a handful of pretzels resting on her boobs, a sly smile on her lips as she takes a sip of her wine. She’s the one who planted the seed in your mind, playfully joking about Jungkook any chance she got, saying he had the hots for you because she enjoyed the flustered look on your face. No doubt would she text the group chat with the news the second you finish this cry for help. 

“Do you think I told him? I can barely come to terms with the fact that I like him. Like what am I supposed to do?”

She sighs dramatically, munching on the final pretzel on her tits before sitting up and dusting off the crumbs from her shirt. “Look, I know you’re just realizing that he likes you so this is still new and fresh for you, but we’ve noticed it for years. It’s fine that you didn’t see it, you had other things occupying your mind.” 

You frown as you stare at the rug beneath your feet, remembering how life was when you first moved into this complex. Getting out of a previous relationship weeks prior, when you had met Jungkook your mind was not interested in pursuing anything with him regardless of how cute you thought he was. It made it easier for you to form a friendship, not worried about trying to impress him, or flirt with him, allowing him to see you for who you truly are. 

Jungkook had his fair share of girlfriends during the years, none of which were entirely serious but by the time he was completely single you had met Hajoon, and he had accepted the fact that maybe you were better off as friends and he would just admire you from afar. That is, until you decided to plant one on him. So technically this is your fault. 

“Jungkook likes you okay, and I’m sure if you just marched next door and told him you like him too he’ll drop on one knee and marry you.”

“Shut up,” you snort, shoving her shoulder with a smile. 

“As a matter of fact, go over there right now!” She stands up from her spot, yanking your arms to haul you up with her. 

“I told you, he’s not home. But, I’ll tell him. I have to.”

Seulgi crosses her arms over her chest as she stares at you, clearly displeased that she wouldn’t be witness to this love story unfolding in real time. “You better. You never know what sneaky little bitch is trying to get him to get over you.”

The sneaky little bitch in question is Park Jimin, currently sitting directly across from Jungkook, guzzling down beer like his life depends on it. It's impressive really, how quickly he empties the cup, eyes shut looking as content as could be even in the dim lighting. Jungkook can only watch with a grimace as his friend sets the glass down and wipes at his mouth with no sense of table manners. 

“What?” he burps, proceeding to pour more of the golden liquid into his cup from the pitcher in the middle of the table. 

“I always forget how absolutely disgusting you are. How do you do it?” Jimin just frowns at the question, not entirely understanding so Jungkook continues. “What switch do you flip to go from sipping champagne to chugging beer like a fucking biker.”

“It’s a talent, I know.” He smiles wide, reaching forward to grip Jungkook’s hand and force him to grab his own cup. Condensation was pooling around the bottom from sitting there untouched, and that just wouldn’t do on Jimin’s watch. “C’mon, drink it!”

“Fine,” Jungkook grumbles, raising the glass and allowing Jimin to clank the cups together before taking a big gulp. He doesn’t clear the cup like his friend did seconds prior but it's enough to appease him. It tastes absolutely bitter the whole way down, settling into his stomach uncomfortably, and the look on his face as he pushes the glass away from him is very telling. 

Boisterous shouts fill the sports bar they were in, huddles of people surrounding the tables and booths as they watched the current soccer match playing on the televisions lining the walls. Jungkook honestly feels like a debby downer now, moping in his seat instead of enjoying the atmosphere with his friend like they normally did. The current game was definitely not the reason Jungkook had texted Jimin to grab drinks, no he needed an outlet to talk about you—preferably in a space that didn’t have walls as thin as his apartment.  

When he barely acknowledges the plate of wings set in front of him Jimin huffs, resisting the urge to dig in because he knew once he did he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. “Are you gonna be like this the entire time?”

“Like what?” Jungkook has the gall to ask, acting as if he wasn’t looking like a wounded animal. 

“Like you just discovered your wife of ten years is having an affair with your sister.”

He sits up straighter at that, eyes wide in disbelief. “Jesus.“

Jimin knew the jist of what was happening through the texts he had received the past week, but it seems like Jungkook didn’t want to jump into the topic of it at all now that they were sitting across from each other. He just sighs before deciding to be honest, wasting no time beating around the bush to hopefully be the voice of reason Jungkook needs. “You’ve been simping over her for years JK, and I get it, you think she could be the one. But what about you huh? It’s not fair for you to have your heart wrung out each time she gets a man and decides to put the friendship on pause—“

“That happened once!” He defends, brows pinched on his forehead as he shakes his head, ready to explain your situation because he wasn’t a fan of hearing his friend say anything about you when he didn’t truly know what happened. “The dude was a piece of shit and basically told her it was him or me. I’m not gonna crucify her for wanting a long term relationship to work.”

“Right, so she’s not icing you out again because she got a new man? That’s literally what you told me, it’s why I bought you this sympathy pitcher of beer!”

“Fuck you, you bought this pitcher for yourself.” Jimin had chugged two giant glasses of beer already, and was steadily working on his third, whereas Jungkook’s watered down cup remained relatively untouched. “Besides, I was just...spiraling and assumed when I sent you that desperate text. But I haven’t heard anything.”

Jimin can only stare blankly at the table as he processes what was just said before locking eyes with his friend once more, “Sorry, what? You haven’t heard anything? The hell kind of riddle is that.”

Jungkook sinks into the booth with a look of shame, not wanting to admit to occasionally laying in his bed at night in complete and total silence just to see if he could hear you and the hypothetical version of Jung Hoseok doing literally anything. It’s not one of his proudest moments, feeling like a bit of a creeper as he laid stiff on his bed, too scared to make a sound.  “Nothing, forget about it. Point is, I haven’t seen the fucker come in or out of her place, so what does that mean?”

A deep sigh comes from Jimin, hand reaching forward to push the beer closer to Jungkook, desperately trying to get him to drink and ease up. “It means you pay far too much attention to her. When was the last time you got any action?”

Two weeks ago. From his hand and filthy imagination. 

“A few months,” he grumbles, remembering his last hook up that happened a few days before he discovered you got dumped. 

“Get outta here.” Jimin rolls his eyes as he points to the door. “Literally, go stand at the corner outside, show some thighs or a tattooed titty and take your pick of the swarm of girls that will surely follow you.”

Jungkook thinks he’s joking, but when his friend doesn’t drop his hand and narrows his eyes threateningly he knows he’s being serious. “My tits aren’t even tattooed,”—his large palms press against his shirt covered chest as if to prove a point— “And you sound like a douchebag talking like this.”

“What? She went on a tinder date and definitely got laid, so you need to even out the playing field. Also, it might help you chill the hell out.”

“Oh my god, you’re not helping.” Jungkook really didn’t need that visual again, it had flashed in his mind too often the night of his pity party and now it was once again at the front of his brain. 

“Alright, okay. I’m throwing out my safe word right now.” Jimin leans closer, arms resting on the table with a confused look on his face. “What do you need from me here? Like, do I play the role of a supportive friend who wants you to get over her, or do I play the role of a friend who wants you to confess? Because you’re giving me some mixed signals Jeon.”

A groan escapes Jungkook, fingers rubbing at his eyes before dragging down his face as he sinks even further into his seat. “I don’t know.” 

It’s the truth. Jungkook had no idea what he wanted his friend to do to help him. He knew that although his feelings for you have weighed heavy on his chest for what seems like years, you technically had no idea, so he feels a little guilty over his frustration for the whole situation. You were newly single again and determined to go through this self proclaimed wild phase so Jungkook isn’t dumb enough to think you can’t go out and do whatever you want, even if that means being with someone who isn’t him. 

“Look,” Jimin sighs, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You only have two choices here, tell her how you feel and accept whatever comes with it, or make peace with the idea of just being friends. Either way, I think you need to loosen up and have fun tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jungkook sits himself up, wrapping his fingers around the cup in an effort to at least look like he wanted to be here. He couldn’t sit here and mope about a problem like this when he hadn’t attempted to come out and tell you how he feels. 

One night of loosening up to get you off his mind wouldn’t hurt, if anything it might help him come to his senses. At least that’s what Jimin was currently whispering with a mischievous smile on his lips. “It’ll be fine, I’ll make sure you don’t black out and get home safe. Who knows, you might get plastered enough to drunk text your confession.”

Jungkook glares at his friend, not liking the goofy look on his face as he starts to laugh. “I swear to god, you better not let me get to that point. Take my phone away from me.”

Jimin obviously wants to see the world burn, or at least he enjoys it when Jungkook somehow digs himself into his own grave. That's exactly why he responds with a million laughing emojis when Jungkook texts him asking why the hell he hadn’t taken his phone last night. 

He did a good job hiding his shock when a knock came from his front door, half expecting it to be you, keeping a smile on his face as he allowed  the person who was very clearly not you in before swiftly entering his bathroom. Jungkook wants to stay locked here forever, holed up while he sits on his toilet and not in the living room with company. It wasn’t like it was bad company either, his drunken ass going through his contact list and sending an invitation to hangout the following day to the last person he spoke to, Aillie. 

The girl is sweet, someone he had a casual fling with for months, someone who was used to his random texts so she doesn’t think twice before agreeing. The only silver lining to this was that he hadn’t sent you a typo-filled drunken confession, which is what Jimin responds with before telling him to suck it up and leave his bathroom. 

Jungkook accepts his fate, as well as accepting that he is partially responsible for this. He shoves his device back into his pockets before standing up and flushing the toilet for show, washing his hands just to stall. One good glance at his reflection makes him cringe, stained shirt and sweats combo leaves him looking like the unprepared mess he is. Another detour through his room to change was a must before he has no choice but to step back out. 

“You’re totally hung over aren’t you?” Aillie jokes from her spot on the couch, comfortable enough in his apartment from the time spent here. She locks her phone as she stands up, taking her time to really look Jungkook over. He was not dressed like someone who was expecting a guest, and despite having seen Jungkook at his sloppiest, his previous attire of oversized shirt and slightly stained sweatpants didn’t look like someone who was expecting a fuck buddy to pop over. Even with his new outfit looking more put together, it was obvious Jungkook was caught off guard by her showing up. 

“What?” Jungkook dumbly asks, trying to come up with some lame excuse to justify his earlier appearance but he falls short. His fingers gently rake through his hair, a grimace falling on his face as he looks back up at her. “Actually, a little. Sorry, I got drunk last night when I text you so sober me was not really prepared.”

“Yeah I figured, you sent me some blurry selfies right after. But we can just hang, we don’t have to do anything,” she trails off, a soft smile on her lips. The only time they ever hung out was to hook up, having ten minute conversations before and after the fact. “Or I can leave too if it's weird that I’m here.” 

Jungkook is shaking his head before she can even finish, already feeling bad enough after texting her to come over. How shitty would he be if he immediately kicked her out. This was fine, a nice distraction from it all, decent middle ground that would help him get his mind off you without having to take Jimin’s douchebag advice. 

“No, we can watch a movie or something. It’s not like I have other plans.” Had this been two weeks ago it would be a totally different story. Jungkook would typically be waiting in his apartment as he stared at the slowly ticking clock, just waiting for it to strike 7:30 because that's when you usually got home. Then he’d either get a text from you to come over with snacks or you’d show up at his door and invite yourself over for the weekly game night. 

It didn’t happen last week, or the week prior, so Jungkook is very confident that it would not be happening today either. It’s that same sense of confidence—and saltiness—that allows him to get comfortable with Aillie, blissfully unaware that you had just pulled into the parking garage a few stories below. 

“I swear to god if you don’t go straight to his door the minute you get off the elevator I will never let you live it down.” Seulgi’s voice fills your car through the speakers, fading out as you shut the car off and bring your phone to your ear to continue the conversation. 

“Dude, I just got off work. I need to make myself look decent.” Plastic bags rustle together as you grab the snacks you had picked up on your way home, all full of yours and Jungkook's favorite treats. It was definitely a guilt fueled purchase, hoping the items were enough to distract him from the fact that you were kind of a bitch for ghosting him recently, or at least butter him up into accepting your apology easier. 

“You think Jungkook cares if you’re a little sweaty from work? He’s a grown man, that’s not gonna stop him from going do—“

“Okay, goodbye!” You hastily cut her off as you press the elevator button, hearing her rambling off about being interrupted. “I’m about to get on the elevator, I’ll tell you how it goes.”

With a small sigh you hang up and stuff the device into your purse, stepping onto the lift as the doors open up and pressing the number for your floor. Your hands are clammy as you grip the plastic bag, uncharacteristically nervous about seeing Jungkook again after so long. 

The main obstacle for you to get over was apologizing for being a crappy friend, and if that went well you were going to suck it up and just come out and confess, the odds of him saying no were slim. And even if he did, you’re perfectly content with staying friends, as long as you could keep him close. 

It’s that same optimistic mentality that allows you to calm down as you enter your place and decide to give yourself a minute to mentally prepare. His favorite ice cream gets put into the freezer for later before you decide to shower and give yourself a pep talk the entire time. 

This pep talk of yours is filled with best case scenarios: Jungkook accepting the confession with open arms, finally being able to kiss him properly, everything falling into place the way it should have a long time ago. And as you head over, totally sober, freshly washed, looking and smelling your best, you really can’t picture this going any other way. 

With a deep breath you’re knocking on his front door, quickly pulling back your hand and wiping it onto your pants as you step back. Jungkook hears the knock clearly from his spot on the couch, his gaze tearing away from the television to stare at his front door with a small frown. He hadn’t ordered any food and Aillie had just excused herself to use his bathroom so his brain is having a hard time wondering who it could be. 

He curses under his breath, not putting it past himself to have texted a second person last night with an invitation to hang out. Why was Jungkook a friendly drunk?

As he presses his eye against the peephole and spots you standing there, he thinks he’s imagining things. It had seemed like so long since he had last seen you in person, and the warped fish-eyed version of you has him stepping back and rubbing his eyes before taking another glance. He suddenly feels like throwing up, and he can’t blame his earlier hangover on it. 

For a brief second he contemplates pretending he hadn’t heard you, but the guilt of doing so makes his heart twist, so he musters up the courage to open the door. It’s barely a crack really, just enough for you to see him while still concealing his apartment, something you definitely found strange because you’re usually flinging the door open and strutting right in, but you suppose his reaction is warranted considering your previous behavior. 

“Y/N, hey. Are you alright?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine!” Your fingers tangle together in front of you, not entirely sure what to do with your nerves and Jungkook spots it easily. His own nerves sky rocket when he hears the sound of running water coming from his bathroom a few feet away, knowing Aillie would most likely pop out any second now, and he’s not sure why it feels like a dirty secret that he has another girl over. 

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah, I was actually wanting to talk to you about something kind of important.” Your smile is hopeful, despite the nerves swirling in your eyes. The nervous skip of your heart is felt in your throat, not remembering the last time you had felt this way about telling someone how you felt about them romantically. 

“Right now?” he wonders, fingers gripping the door handle tighter when he hears his bathroom door unlock, the sound of footsteps rounding the corner before stepping into the living room, a few feet away from the door and in perfect view of the wedge Jungkook had opened. 

When your eyes flicker over his shoulder, spotting the auburn haired girl giving you a curious glance, you feel all your confidence slip away. Seulgi had definitely been right about needing to confess soon, Jungkook was a catch and just because you hadn’t realized it sooner didn’t mean the rest of the world was blind to it. 

“Yeah, right now...but you’re busy, so it’s fine!” You want to scramble away from there, feeling dumb the longer you stand there. Jungkook wants to say he’s not busy, kick the girl out of his place and invite you in but that wouldn’t be fair to her, for all he knew your important conversation would be a repeat of the conversation you had over Hajoon, and he really didn't want to get friendship dumped while this girl was in his apartment. He’s pretty sure his Yelp rating would drop a bit if he cried on the couch about you to his old hook up. 

He starts to speak but you cut him off before he can, “Don’t worry about it! I’ll see you later.” You force a smile before walking away, not allowing him to get a word in as you quickly step into your apartment and move to the furthest room away from your bedroom. 

You can feel the cold of your kitchen floor as you sit on your butt, back against your cabinets, the small twinge of defeat spreading within you. “This is fine. Maybe she’s just a friend. I can always tell him tomorrow,” you whisper out. But your fingers seem to think otherwise as they type out a message to Seulgi, informing her that the mission was unsuccessful and you’d be putting on The Notebook like you always did. It was basically protocol to do so when things went south in your life. 

She doesn’t even know how to console you, knowing she can’t tell you it was his loss or that he wasn’t worth it because she knows that’d be a lie and you wouldn’t believe it for a second. The only thing she can offer is coming over, but you’re quick to turn her down, deciding that being alone in the comfort of your bed as you inhaled the ice cream you bought for Jungkook would be best. 

Is being in your room the wisest choice when you know you share a wall with Jungkook—and he has a cute girl over? No. Probably not. But you figure if you hear anything explicit it’s just your dose of karma, so you accept it, turning up the volume of the movie a few levels just to soften the blow. 

However, Jungkook would definitely not be hooking up with her in his bedroom, or anywhere in his apartment for that matter. Luckily Aillie is blessed with the gift of reading the damn room and can easily spot the shift in Jungkook’s mood the second he shuts the door. She’s sitting on the edge of the couch now, hands gently placed on her knees as she gives him a sympathetic smile. 

“I get the vibe that somethings off.”

He looks up at her then, slowing his pace until he’s awkwardly standing in the middle of the room with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “My friend—my neighbor just wanted to talk about something. But everything’s fine.”

The lie tastes bitter on his tongue, and Aillie doesn’t believe him in the slightest. A small sigh fills the air as she stands up, collecting her bag and approaching him. “Look, I know deep talks really aren’t our thing so I’m not going to even try to dive into this, but you should go talk to your friend.”

A comforting hand is placed on his shoulder before she makes her way to the door to leave, Jungkook already following closely behind her. “No, you don’t have to go. You came all this way because I texted you with way too much tequila in my system.”

“Jungkook,” she laughs, opening the door with a smile. “You’re way too sweet for your own good. It was nice seeing you though.” Her eyes slowly move over to your front door before looking back at him, head cocking to the side in a very clear indication that he better go over. He can only nod in understanding, waving her goodbye and shutting the door once she heads down to the elevator. 

The action sounds of the movie they were watching continues to fill his apartment, whatever chaos was going on only making his brain whirl so he’s quick to grab the remote and shut it off entirely. Now he’s just stuck in complete silence, wondering if he should quickly make his way over to yours or play it calm and collected. 

The total silence allows him to hear the muffled mumbling of a movie he knew all too well. It draws him in, lures him into his bedroom until he’s kneeling on the mattress with his ear pressed against the wall to properly make it out. You were watching the Notebook, at a concerning volume, which could mean a number of things. Jungkook knew none of them were good, usually rooted in issues you had with your ex, or a tough day at work, or any particular day where you just felt like crying. 

With a deep breath, he’s slowly knocking along his wall, almost experimentally, hoping it's enough to grab your attention through the current scene playing. For a second he thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep while watching the film, but then the room falls silent as you pause it entirely. 

Your hearts racing now, ears straining to hear anything else and hoping this wasn’t how the beginning of the explicit noises would start, but then another knock comes from behind you. It makes you gasp, like you’ve just been caught being the nosey neighbor you are, hearing the soft scrape of his hand sliding down the wall. The ice cream gets put onto your nightstand as you sit up properly, forcing yourself out of the mountain of pillows you were practically suffocating in and turning around to knock back.

Jungkook’s palm presses back onto the wall, smiling at your response before fishing his phone out of his pocket. His fingers find your thread of messages, further down the list than he was used to, and as he opens them up and sees the string of unanswered texts dating back to two weeks ago, it stings just like it did before. He pushes his pride aside though, knowing you had wanted to talk today in person, so he proceeds to quadruple text you. 

Jungkook 8:44pm : are you seriously watching the notebook again?

You’re unlocking your phone the second it buzzes, smiling at the dimly lit screen before typing out a response. 

Y/N 8:45pm : shut up, it’s my comfort movie

Y/N 8:45pm : do you wanna watch it with me? for old times sake

The device is locked and placed face down onto your sheets the second you hit send, sinking into the pillows once again as you try not to scream at yourself because you know he’ll hear you. Why would you invite him over when he clearly has company? You had seen her with your own eyes, had seen how cute she is, had seen how cute Jungkook is, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

Jungkook is quick though, texting back in agreement and heading over instantly. If you were watching your comfort movie then Jungkook wanted to make sure you were okay. Putting the past two weeks behind him, knowing you’d most likely have a good enough explanation—an explanation he would definitely be needing before the night was over—he’s knocking on your door before you can even check your messages. 

It takes you a minute to untangle your limbs from your covers as you hastily try to get to your door, sock clad feet sliding along your wooden floors when you finally yank the door open. Jungkook wears a soft smile as he stares down at you, taking note that you had switched your outfit to your usual sad movie binge attire of baggy shirt and lounge shorts. His eyes zero in on your lips when he notices there's something lingering at the corner of them. 

“So, are you gonna share whatever the hell that is?” His finger points at it smugly, laughing when your tongue peeks out to wipe it away. 

“It was actually meant to be for you.” Stepping aside, you let him enter your place. Jungkook almost feels a little strange being here after the weird few weeks, but he pushes it aside, just wanting things to feel normal. 

“Does that mean there’s no more left?” His eyes playfully narrow at you as you step closer, moving on to stare at the kitchen table, and the coffee table in search of the tub of ice cream that supposedly had his name on it. The earlier nerves you felt slowly fade away when you realize he’s not visibly upset about what happened, but it only makes your guilt deepen that despite your ability to be a crummy friend, Jungkook would still try his best to come through for you. 

“There’s about half of it left, it’s probably a little soft now though.” You side step him to enter the kitchen, grabbing an extra spoon and handing it over as a peace treaty, smiling when he gratefully accepts it. “C’mon, I paused the movie.”

Jungkook is not a stranger to your bedroom, especially when sappy movies were playing, finding his spot easily on the right side where he typically handed you tissues whenever you cried. The tissues were missing this time, in place of them being the bag of snacks you had bought, his ice cream on the other nightstand. 

“What part are you on?” he asks, settling onto the bed after fluffing up the pillows, waving his hands so you could pass the tub of ice cream his way. 

“It just started raining on the boat.” Jungkook hums, scooping out some of the chocolate ice cream and into his mouth. He knew this scene very well, and when you press play, he mentally repeats all of the lines. Just as Noah declares he wrote her 365 letters, you awkwardly clear your throat, your own spoon slowly sneaking over to his side to steal some ice cream for yourself. 

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward with your date.” Your voice sounds timid, something he’s not used to hearing from you at all, so he chuckles, laughing harder when you swat at his arm. “I’m serious, I should have texted you before just showing up.”

“Really? When have you ever done that before?” The two of you never notified the other when they wanted to show up, Jungkook had even given you the code to his place once when he was at work and you were desperate for some fruity pebbles—you used that code to your advantage and Jungkook never hated it. But all things considered, it's fair why you think you would have to give him a heads up. 

“You didn’t make it awkward though.” It’s not the complete truth, you coming over is what had made Aillie decide to leave, but Jungkook had to take most of the credit for it. “I kinda made it awkward from the beginning.”

“Why, what happened?”

“I went out last night with Jimin“ —you immediately hum in understanding, knowing very well how convincing Jimin could be with alcohol— “and apparently I texted her to hang out today, had no recollection, so when she showed up I was definitely not ready.”

“Damn, this is how I know you’re a better person than I am. If that happened to me, the second I checked my peephole and saw someone I didn’t remember inviting over, I’m gonna pretend I’m not home.”

“Yeah well, she lives like an hour away so I’d feel like an ass if I did that. Don’t think I’ll be talking to her again any time soon though.” He sighs in thought, gently tapping his spoon on the surface of the softening ice cream. There was one thing weighing heavy on his mind, needing to know what important thing you had to talk to him about, wondering if you were actually going to friendship dump him earlier and he had just made it worse by coming over and hanging out like old times. 

He doesn’t want to come right out and ask it though, not wanting to set himself up for an awkward conversation in case that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about, so he settles for something safe enough that would allow him to get a glimpse. 

“So how are things with Hoseok?” Yeah, that’s a good start. 

“Huh?” Your spoon freezes in its spot, face clearly looking confused in the dim glow of the television, the movie long forgotten now that you were speaking. 

“Tinder guy? Yellow sunglasses guy that gave you mono?” 

It suddenly clicks again, having forgotten all about Jung Hoseok the second you had gotten home from the failed date and came to terms with your feelings. Your lie of having a cold must have been believable enough for Jungkook to genuinely think he had given you something like mono. 

“He didn’t give me mono!” Jungkook rolls his eyes with a playful smile, humming along like he totally believes you. “But I didn’t tell you?”

He frowns as he stares at you, not entirely sure how to take your tone. “Tell me what? That you’re engaged and the wedding is in June?”

“No way,” you laugh, swatting his spoon away with a clank as you grab some ice cream before shoving it in your mouth, fighting against the brain freeze to continue speaking. “Our date was a bust.”

“How? Was it that bad?” He desperately wanted to know, having convinced himself the date had gone spectacularly well and you were now an exclusive item. The small twinge of guilt is felt when he realizes he’s a little too happy that the date had been a failure, but he allows himself to have this small, tiny victory. 

“Mm, it was so good it was bad.” He looks utterly confused, and you don’t blame him, so you elaborate. “He was this perfect gentleman who just wanted to play games, like to the point where he had a notebook where he was tallying our points, and then he walked me to my car and kissed my cheek goodbye.”

“Oh the horror!” Jungkook gasps, setting his spoon down to clutch his heart in dramatics. “How dare he try to romance you with a game night.”

“Jungkook, shut up!” you laugh, finally feeling like everything was right again, sitting in bed with your closest friend as you teased each other. “Look, I’ll give him some credit. The date was nice, he was not the sleazy douchebag his profile made him out to be, and I’m sure he’ll find the perfect girl for him on Tinder. But he clearly wanted something serious and—“

“And you don’t want that right now. It’s fair.” Of course you would turn him down, you had just decided to embark on this new adventure in the single world. It was kind of dumb for Jungkook to assume one date with Tinder Boy would be enough for you to give up your short lived dream. 

You take a steady breath at his words before taking another scoop of ice cream, lips wrapped around the spoon as you slowly pull it out of your mouth. The nerves are trickling back in, making your heart skip and your eyes bounce around. If you don’t come out and say it now, you know you never will. 

Your spoon joins his in the tub of ice cream before you decide to move it back to the nightstand, forcing yourself to look back at him, seeing him turned away as he rummages through the plastic bag full of snacks. “I don’t want that with him.”

Jungkook freezes, the rustling of plastic ceases as his hands come back to his sides and he turns back around. With him. He was the king of jumping to worse case scenarios so his brain has no issues coming to this very horrible conclusion. 

“Have you been talking to Hajoon again?”

“No, Jungkook I haven’t.”

“Are you sure? I’m saying this now, but if you get back with him I will not hesitate to pop him in the face if I run into him in the halls. It’s fair game out there, neutral territory for him to get his ass beat—“

“It’s you.”

His brain short circuits at that, mini versions of himself currently running around and screaming in his head as he tries to make sense of this. The first instinct he has is to crack a joke, to say that he hadn’t been talking to Hajoon again, and laugh it off. But you look a little too vulnerable right now, eyes nervously looking at him and then looking away at his lingering silence. 

“Wait, what?” It’s the only thing he can sputter out, caught off guard by your words, not wanting to say anything else in case the world was cruel enough for him to have completely misheard you. 

“I don’t want that with Tinder Boy or Hajoon, I want it with you.” It gets a little easier saying it a second time, but his reaction is hard to gauge. You had been expecting him to reciprocate the confession instantly, but the longer he looked shocked only made you think that you and Seulgi had been seriously wrong about his supposed crush. 

Jungkook is having a difficult time trying to go from you ghosting him to you suddenly admitting to liking him, the change in emotions not allowing him to say anything he had practiced in the mirror for so long. He can’t come out and give you a speech about how he thinks you’re the one, how you’re obviously a good match together, brain too focused on other details. “How long have you known this?”

“For the past two weeks, but deep down I know it’s been longer.”

His wide eyes glance over at you now, everything slowly clicking into place. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Yes,” you mumble, embarrassed over the way you had acted. The last time you had avoided someone was in elementary school, having a best friend go ask your crush if he likes you while you hid in the bathroom, scared of the answer. “I like you Jungkook and I knew I wouldn’t be able to play it cool. I was scared to say something and have you not feel the same and then have our friendship be weird.”

Jungkook smiles in that adorable way you love, nose scrunching up cutely as he leans closer, large palms coming to cup your cheeks. He has wanted to hear this for so long, and sure, maybe it wasn’t some super romantic confession over a candlelit dinner like he had occasionally dreamed of, but this felt right. 

“You’re so stupid,” he whispers out, thumb softly caressing your cheek as he chuckles, feeling the way your lips turn into a frown at his harmless insult. 

“Jungkook, I’m being serious,” you whine, heart still pounding in your chest. Your hands come up to gently wrap around his wrists, allowing him to continue to squish your cheeks with that endearing look on his face. 

“I’m being serious too Y/N. Did you really think I wouldn’t feel the same?” Jungkook did everything he did with you out of pure friendliness, never expecting to get something in return from it, but there was a small sprinkling of a crush in every one of his actions. “I like you too, and I have for a really long time.”

The relief you feel comes instantly, lips slowly pulling into a smile when you finally have the confidence to look directly into his eyes again. If this is how light you feel after the two weeks spent freaking out, you can only imagine how Jungkook feels. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, can I please kiss you?” You’re nodding the second the question leaves his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his hands glide down to cup your jaw, soft lips slowly pressing against yours. It’s a gentle smack of skin as he pulls back, a smirk on his lips when he opens his eyes, softly rubbing his nose against yours. 

“Wait,” he breathes out, chuckling softly. “Is he still looking?” He has the nerve to repeat the same question that had been the root of your guilt, and when your eyes shoot open and glare at him, he can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out. 

“I hate you,” you mutter out, not an ounce of truth behind it. 

“Mm, no you don’t.” 

His lips find yours again, falling into a steady rhythm, softer and less rushed than the first kiss you had shared at the club. There’s no pounding bass in the background, or the taste of liquor on your lips, but Jungkook prefers it this way. He likes the low hum of the movie continuing to play in the background, the sweetness of the ice cream lingering on your lips when his tongue gently swipes at the seam of them, the way your hands slowly slide around his neck as he deepens each kiss. 

With each shared breath, you slide further down your bed, pulling Jungkook down with you until he’s hovering directly above you. His knees dig into the sheets, one hand pressed beside your head to keep himself stable as you urge him even closer to you. The delicate golden chain he wears kisses your skin, pendant settling onto your chest, the cool sensation is almost enough to distract you as his tongue slowly slips into your mouth. Jungkook groans when you let out a small gasp, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently at the strands by the nape of his neck. 

He wants to remember this kiss instead of the one from the club, embed every gasp you let out into his brain, the way your chest pushes up to feel more of him, how your hands slide down his back, leaving a fiery trail in their path that makes Jungkook shiver. And when you slide your thighs further apart for him, innocently at first, he can’t help it when his lips freeze on yours as you slowly roll your hips upwards. It gives him the same automatic reaction he had gotten at the club, all the blood rushing to his cock instantly, except this time he doesn’t feel the shame he had felt before. There was no ulterior motive to what you were doing, sincerity shown in your confession, shared within each kiss, so Jungkook allows himself to bask in the want he feels for you.

“Y/N,” he groans out when you repeat the action, pulling away from your swollen lips to stare at you through hooded eyes. You’re licking your lips over as your eyes slowly open, a small glimmer evident in them as you tilt your head and pretend to not know what you’re doing.

“What?” you question, leaning up to kiss the edge of his mouth, giggling when he attempts to chase your lips as you pull back, choosing to kiss down his jaw instead. As your tongue gently trails along the side of his neck, you feel the harsh gulp he takes, his fingers bunching up in the sheets beside your head. His neck has always been a weak point for him, turning him into a puddle in seconds, you knew this from the unfiltered conversations you’ve had and it was something you were definitely going to be using to your advantage. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he grunts, eyes fluttering shut as you nip at his skin, a visible shiver racking through him. 

“Of course I am,” you hum, letting your hands roam his back, sliding around his front until you’re sneaking past the white fabric of his shirt. When your cool hands meet his skin, he tenses, the muscles on his stomach tightening up as your fingertips trail up his body. You’ve known Jungkook was well defined, lean and toned in all the best places, having seen him shirtless a few times. But being able to touch him like this, feel each stuttered breath and jump of his skin reacting to your touch fueled you. 

Jungkook knows you can feel the racing of his heart now, your palms flat on his chest, each thrum revealing his emotions despite the cool and calm exterior he was trying to have. His hips lower towards yours, resisting the urge to rut into you as you start to suck on his skin. The low hum you let out vibrates against his neck, mixed in with the feeling of your wet lips, and he knows he’s done for. The final blow comes in the form of you swiping your tongue at the blossomed hickey, sweet voice pulling him back to earth as you look at him once more. “I want you Jungkook.”

Oh god, he couldn’t do this. His face pulls into a grimace, begging himself to not instantly cum in his pants at what you just said. How many times has he fantasized about this? Hoped you’d beg him for anything in that same exact voice, dreamed of you kissing and sucking on his skin like you currently were. Jungkook isn’t sure any amount of mental preparation would be enough for this. 

“Say that again please.”

You giggle, finger pushing back a strand of his hair as it falls over his face, tucking it behind his ear. The normal doe eyed look you were accustomed to is nowhere to be found, pupils blown out in lust as he stares at you. Being on the receiving end of this stare fills your stomach with butterflies, the flapping of their wings intensifying as he nudges his nose into yours. 

“I want you.” It’s breathless, spoken so softly through the background noise like a personal secret just for him. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of hearing you say it, that much is proven true when you repeat it in between kisses, trailing back up his neck in the same path you had taken until you're speaking the words directly against his lips. He swallows them down greedily, groaning into your mouth when his tongue tangles with yours once more. 

“Fuck, you can have me baby.” He chuckles against your mouth when you start to tug at his shirt, yanking the thin material until he has to pull back and slip the tee off himself. The balled fabric gets tossed aside without a care, dark swirls of ink on his arm fully revealed now, each tattoo reminding you of how long you’ve known him, remembering the two pieces that he had when you first met. When he leans back over you, taking his time trailing kisses down your neck, onto your chest until his own hands are slowly tugging your shirt off of you, you decide there’s other things to focus on besides his glorious tattoos.

“Ah, Jungkook,” you sigh, fingers tangling into his hair when he kisses the swells of your breast, warm tongue sliding over your nipple before his lips are wrapping around it. His large palm gropes the other, thumb flicking over the pebbled bud, smirking when you push your chest further out for him.

“What baby?” He pulls back to blow a gust of cool air on your nipple, the wetness of his saliva making your skin break out into goosebumps. 

“No teasing.”

Jungkook’s laughing now, eyes peering up at you through his lashes. “Oh, you think I’m not gonna tease you after what you did?” He tsks in disapproval as he continues to kiss down your torso, letting his hands trail down your sides, not stopping until he reaches the hem of your shorts. A kiss is placed above your navel as he pulls the shorts down your legs, toying with the waistband of your black underwear. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

The build up before pleasure will always be your favorite part. The way his hands grip your thighs after tugging your underwear off, fingertips trailing up until his palm is pressing them further apart. It’s impossible to look at him now, the visual of his long hair framing his face as he starts to press wet kisses on your skin is too much to handle. You can feel the warm huff of air when he laughs as your head drops back onto the pillow once more, eyes slipping shut while you wait with anticipation. 

Jungkook wants to comment over how wet you are already, boost his own ego about being able to rile you up with just kissing, but he can see the way you’re already on edge, and he decides he can tease you some more later with what he has in store. Instead, he gives you what you’re mentally pleading him for. Finally pressing his soft lips to your folds, the short gasp you release as his tongue glides up before gently flicking across your clit has him shutting his own eyes, reveling in the way you react to his touch. 

His long fingers spread out your folds before he’s messily spitting onto them, watching the way the glob of saliva trickles down before he’s diving in, falling into the perfect pace with ease. It has your hips rutting up instantly, your hand uncurling its grip from your sheets to travel down your body and find its place tangled in his hair. Jungkook groans against your clit when your fingers grip tightly, yanking the dark strands as the prettiest moan flows out of you. 

“J-just like that, fuck,” you whimper, finally lifting your head up to stare down at him when he latches his lips around your clit and sucks. It sends a spark down your spine, stomach tensing at his rhythm, fully intent to have you fall apart. 

Jungkook wants to push you over the edge, knows he’s talented enough to get you there in record time—he was cocky in the best way—and the way your thighs tremble as he slowly sinks his finger into you proves his point. The slick coating your entrance allows a second finger to slip through with little resistance, a shuddering breath filling the air as he begins to spread his fingers apart, stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

It’s not until his fingers curl up, rubbing along the sweet patch inside of you and you moan out his name, that he realizes he has you right where he wants you. He can’t get himself to look up at you, to see the way your jaw drops as you plead for more. Jungkook knows if his eyes lock with yours too soon he’ll be too weak to be as cruel as he wants to be. 

The pleasure blooms inside you, hips rolling up into his in a way he welcomes, smirk spreading onto his lips when your moans get breathier. He eats you out with determination set in his brows, not satisfied until you’re tightening around his fingers, thighs threatening to close in on either side of his head. The messy way he slurps against you sends you reeling, rutting up into him with need, the wet thump of his fingers blending in with your moans of his name. 

“God, Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.” He believes you, eyes finally opening up to stare at you. The visual is enough to make his cock throb in his pants, your glassy eyed stare locked onto his, chest rising and falling in time with each choked breath. When he playfully winks at you, your walls pulse around him, seconds away from being pushed over the edge, and that’s when he pulls away. 

The warm glow of your orgasm approaching, just about to crest, gets ripped away from you instantly. It makes you gasp, thighs twitching as your hips attempt to push up back towards his mouth, but he’s having none of that. His shiny lips smile up at you innocently, head tilted to slowly kiss your trembling thighs, chuckling at the small cry of frustration you let out. 

“You taste good baby,” he hums, smooching the skin at the juncture of your thighs, circling around your clit without relieving the pressure you felt. The dull ache has your fingers releasing his hair in defeat, a frown etched onto your lips. 

“Jungkook, that’s mean,” you pant, sitting up and resting on your elbows to properly stare at him. 

“A little, but you deserved it don’t you think?” Jungkook didn’t want to tease you too much, he just wanted to get even for the past two weeks. “You could have had me between your thighs every single night if you would’ve said something soon, so I think you can be patient.”

A firm kiss is pressed to your swollen clit and it makes your whole body shudder, your head dropping back as you take a deep breath to control yourself. “I can’t be patient Kook,” you whine, head leveling back out to give him the most convincing stare you can muster. There's that crease between your brows that he likes when you pinch them together, hands gently raking through his hair, teeth pillowing out your lower lip as you bite down onto it. 

“Please, you can torture me later if you want but not now.” Your words have him cocking up his brow, hands once again gripping the meat of your thighs before he crawls back up your body. The feeling of his chain dragging up your skin has you shivering, breath catching in your throat when he hovers inches above you once more. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before his hand slips between your thighs again. A groan reaches his ears as his fingers circle your clit, covered in your arousal and his saliva, gliding with ease as he works you back to your ruined orgasm. 

His lips find yours, swallowing down the moan you let out when he quickens his pace. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangling with yours with more urgency than before, messy and desperate in a way that had more arousal gushing out of you. The earlier pleasure reignites inside you, your hands sliding around his neck to keep him close, kissing him with fervor, quiet moans and whimpers slipping past between each smack of your lips. 

“Jungkook,” you barely manage to squeal, a few more flicks needed to finally push you over the edge. Your lips are slick with spit as you pull back, jaw slack as you lose yourself in the feeling, and Jungkook easily bookmarks this into his brain to go back to and daydream of whenever he’s bored at work. Your eyes are squeezed shut as the feeling flows through you, not able to see how Jungkook stares at you in awe. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers, slowly pulling his hand away when you keen at the sensitivity, thighs twitching on the sheets as the pleasure rolls through you in waves. You’re looking up just in time to see him slip his messy fingers into his mouth, tongue licking them clean and savoring the taste of you. Just as he slides them back out, your fingers wrap around his wrist and lead them directly into your mouth, sinking onto them with your eyes locked on his own. 

Jungkook’s cock jumps in its confines when you suck, tip of your tongue circling his fingertips before popping them back out with a smirk. There’s a brief moment of shock on his features before he’s jumping into action, quickly unbuttoning his jeans in haste that left you giggling on your sheets. 

“What happened to patience?” you tease, laughing harder when he pauses with one foot stuck in the hole of his jeans, a playful glare thrown your way. 

“Oh, now you want patience?” He kicks his pants the rest of the way off, slowly shuffling towards you as he stands beside the bed in just his boxers. Your hands make grabby motions for him, reaching for the waistband of his underwear to tug them down, licking your lips over as his cock springs out. It bobs in the air for a second, thick and heavy, precum collecting at the tip with the prettiest veins on the underside of it. Of course Jungkook and his pretty privilege would have a dick worthy of leaving you speechless. 

Jungkook allows you to ogle at him, confidently wrapping his palm around the base of his cock, hissing slightly at the sensation as he looks down at it, allowing spit to accumulate behind his lips before a string of it escapes and lands right onto his length to help the glide of his palm. Your eyes widen at the sight, hand replacing his as he guides your motions, giving an experimental squeeze and enjoying how his abs tense up. 

“I’ve been patient for a long time Y/N. You said you want me right?” You’re nodding instantly, eyes looking away from his shiny length to stare up at him. “How do you want me?”

“Jungkook, just get over here.” He doesn’t resist when you let go of his cock, hands gripping his arm to yank him back onto the bed in a clumsy heap. His legs are a tangled mess, nearly ramming his forehead with yours from the force, shared laughter filling the air as you situate yourself. Jungkook had pictured this a thousand times and this is exactly how he imagined it, full of soft kisses, hushed laughter and goofy smiles, playfulness mixed in with lust all coming together perfectly to make the two of you. 

As he settles between your thighs, your sodden folds inches from his length, you can see the look on his face as his eyes glance in between both of your nightstands. Already knowing the question that was about to spill out, you beat him to the punch. “You don’t need one, if you don’t want to. I’m on birth control, and haven’t been with anyone since…” you trail off, not needing to specify.

Jungkook tries not to look too excited, really, but it’s hard. Every one of his lewd fantasies had involved being able to feel you entirely, and if your thoughts from that night were anything to go by, you definitely want the same. It takes him a second to speak, having to swallow properly to prevent himself from choking on his saliva and embarrassing himself in front of you. “I’m clean, I promise.”

“I trust you,” you smile, biting down onto your bottom lip as he fists his cock, slowly leading it to your dripping center. His free hand rests on your inner thigh, softly palming the skin as the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscles and into your heat. With his gaze locked down to where you connect, he sees inch by inch sink into you, finally bottoming out with a shared gasp.

Jungkook leans over you properly now, hand sliding up to lace with yours as the other rests beside your head, just taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of your velvety walls wrapped tightly around his cock. You welcome the stretch, the curve of his length inside you, how he cages you in with his body, eyes full of want staring directly at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze because he knows he can’t properly form a sentence right now. 

“Fuck me, please.” With his hips pressed flush against yours, he’s slowly inching back, letting you get used to his size with each thrust. It doesn’t take long before he’s rearing back entirely, thrusting forward with a wet squelch, corner of his lips curling up into a smirk when you moan out his name. Your hand curls around his shoulder, fingers digging into his back to keep yourself steady from the force of his hips. 

Each time the head of his cock would nudge against your bundle of nerves, your nails would sink into his skin, leaving half moon indents that left him groaning in pleasure. Jungkook hadn’t outright told you, but it had become increasingly obvious that he has a slight kink for pain, practically mewling above you as you scratch his back, fucking you with more determination than before. 

“You feel so good,” he rasps, slotting his lips with yours in a messy kiss. The back of your headboard starts to rattle against the wall, bouncing back in time with his hips, and it brings you back to the filthy thoughts you had before. How often you’d hear the same sounds on the opposite side, mixing in with the sharpness of skin connecting together, and you want it. So badly.

“J-jungkook,” you breathe out, letting him pepper more kisses onto you, hips never slowing down. “Can you do something for me?” The tone you use, coated in sugar so sweet he couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

“Anything.”

It’s hard to concentrate on anything else while his cock continues to fuck into you, turning your mind into mush each time he sunk all the way in. He can see the way you try to focus, eyes falling shut with the cutest pout on your kiss swollen lips, finally grabbing onto the reigns of your mind as you spit it out. “Wanna feel you—fuck—spank me, please.”

Only then do his hips slow down, cock throbbing inside of you, fighting the urge to cum before fulfilling your request. The only confirmation that he was agreeing, wholeheartedly, comes when he pulls out of you, moving too quickly for you to protest at the loss of contact. The room spins for a second as his hands grip onto your hips and flip you over with ease, palms gripping the globes of your ass and softly patting them with a chuckle.

“Of course baby,” he murmurs, hooking his arm underneath your stomach to haul you up onto your knees, allowing you to steady yourself before he’s sliding into you once again. The change in position has you keening, his cock sinking deeper than before, the wetness dripping out of you helping him maintain the earlier pace he had. Your hands fist the sheets beneath you, back arching in ecstasy as he hits your g-spot with precision, a tiny shriek of his name making him smile.

Jungkook keeps you on edge, strong hands gripping the skin of your hips tightly, mouth dropping open while he pants at the way you pulse around his cock, leaving it coated in your slick. His hand slides down to your ass, a gentle touch being your only warning before he’s pulling his hand back and delivering a swift slap to your skin. Your reaction is immediate, an unrestrained moan sounding like music to his ears. The sharp sting spreads directly to your core, your head bowing forward as you mentally beg him for more, your wish being granted seconds later when he repeats it on the other side.

If the wet sounds of his cock fucking you weren’t filthy enough, the added slap of his palm across your ass definitely topped it off. Jungkook had never seen you so needy, thighs coated in your arousal, gushing around him each time he spanked you until you were creaming his cock. The greedy way your walls suck him in, wanting him closer, deeper than ever, left him mesmerized. 

His hand soothes the dull throb on your skin, a trembling breath reaching his ears as he leans over your back, lips kissing up your spine up until reaching your shoulder. Hot pants of breath hit your skin, making you shiver as his lips trail along the edge of your ear. “Feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you mewl, voice trembling from the pleasure, rutting your hips in time with his. 

Jungkook’s way of love was a breath of fresh air for you, rough enough to exhilarate you, the force of his hips leaving you scrambling for purchase to prevent you from face planting onto the sheets, gripping onto your hair and tugging it back with enough force to make your body tingle. But it was intertwined with adoration, sweet praise whispered into your ear, lacing his fingers with yours to let you feel secure.

“You’re never getting rid of me baby,” he groans out. The low rasp in his voice makes you tremble, neck straining from his grip in your hair but the burn feels too good to pull away. His small confession has your heart skipping, eyes slipping shut to bask in the overwhelming feeling surrounding you.

“Good,” you manage to pant, “would never dream of it.” After four years of friendship, the beginning stages of getting to know each other, figuring out the right ways to flow with your different personalities, it's all out of the way now, so it’s incredibly easy for you to picture a steady future with him. The breakfast gossiping, shameless club outings, chaotic game nights with snacks thrown at each other, you want everything you already have with him and more. What you have, so rooted in sincerity, built off mutual respect for each other, blossoming into love so pure, you can’t imagine having this with anyone else.

“Y/N,” he gasps, the pulsing of your walls bringing him closer to his climax. “I’m close.”

You can only hum in agreement, burying your face into your pillow when he releases the grip he has in your hair, nipples rubbing against the sheets in time with his thrusts, the sensitivity sending sparks throughout you. Both his hands grip your hips again, dimpling the skin as he quickens his pace, the tantalizing roll of his hips intent to send you over before him. His eyes trail over the curve of your back, how you arch it further to feel more of him, sliding down to your ass, seeing the way it bounces back with each snap of his hips, how you weakly rut back onto him, pussy clamping around his length as your orgasm approached. 

Jungkook slides his hand around you, trailing across your tummy before slipping between your thighs to the spot you needed him most. Even with your face buried in the sheets, the moan you let out is loud enough for Jungkook to hear perfectly, body shuddering as he flicks across your clit in tight circles.  

“Kook, I’m cumming—fuck,” you shout out, white heat enveloping your body as you get sent over the edge. Your mind blanks for a minute, the intensity of your orgasm crashing over you so suddenly, making your limbs tense up while every nerve ending lights up. The only thing you can think of is him, chanting out your name while you pulse around him, sweet words coaxing you through your high, thumb rubbing along the skin of your hips as he never slows his pace. 

As he fucks you through it, groaning out at how tight your walls are around him, you have to turn your head to gasp in a breath, face feeling hot from it all. You can feel how sweaty your skin has become, the back of your neck feeling sticky as your turn to get a glimpse of him, body still shuddering from the aftershocks. 

Jungkook doesn’t have a care for his own volume now, moaning unabashedly as he pistons his hips into you with less grace than before. The soft mewls of overstimulation you let out just bring him closer to his release, thrusts getting sloppier as the pleasure takes over him. 

“Fuck, baby-” he grunts out, mouth dropping open as he moans even louder, finally falling apart. He pushes further into you, head falling forward as his hips press flushed against your ass, warm spurts of his cum filling you up in a way that fulfills your dirtiest fantasies. A few more shallow thrusts has the two of you gasping, hearts pounding in your chests, coming down slowly as he finally stills.

A serene silence falls over you, the movie long turned off in the background, only the low glow of the television letting you know it was still on. With great hesitation, Jungkook finally pulls out of you, gulping when he sees the thick globs of cum spill from your core, dripping down your thighs before landing on the sheets in a sinful mess. Your sheets are well and truly ruined, Jungkook would honestly suggest tossing them in the trash judging by the damp spot directly beneath you.

With a small groan, you’re flopping fully onto your stomach, thighs no longer able to keep yourself up, the exhaustion creeping up on you. Jungkook chuckles when he hears you, soothing your back with a gentle massage. “You’re not sleeping in here babe.”

“Why not,” you slur, cheek pressed against your pillow, eyes already shut. All you wanted to do was lay here, preferably with his arms wrapped around you, but Jungkook clearly has other plans. 

“Because it’s disgusting,” he laughs, giving you a few more seconds of rest before he’s moving around. The dip in the bed lets you know he’s gotten off, one eye peeking open to search for him, seeing him gathering his belongings from the floor.

“Where are you going?”

He shimmies back into his clothes with a grimace, gathering your own items before approaching you once more. “We are going next door and sleeping in my totally clean bed, c’mon.”

You only put up a fight for a second, secretly enjoying the way he helps you get dressed in your earlier clothes, heart swelling in your chest at how domestic it all feels. The mess in your room would have to be dealt with another day, the only important item being the ice cream that finds its way back into the freezer as you both head out of your apartment and swiftly enter his next door.

He’s just as delicate and careful in the shower, taking turns cleaning each other, large hands gripping your ass and giggling like a child when you wince at the small throb of pain you feel. Soft kisses are shared under the showerhead, warm water soothing your body as the room fogs up, sweet confessions scribbled on the glass in his messy writing, topped off with a heart. Jungkook stops you before you can wipe it away, shyly telling you that he’d like to see it reappear the next time he showers.

His bedroom was one you weren’t too familiar with, used to lounging in his living room the most, so as he settles into his bed after getting cozy in his pajamas, you wait for him to call you over before joining him. The coolness of his sheets has you sighing, snuggling into his side with a smile on your lips, one that Jungkook sees as he stares down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Seeing you draped in his clothes, cuddled up beside him in a way you’ve never done before, makes him feel like a giddy teenager. 

“Can I be honest?” he wonders, arm wrapping around you to pull you even closer to him. When you hum in confirmation, he laughs sheepishly. “I thought you were going to friendship dump me today.”

“What, why?”

Your head bobs up as he shrugs his shoulders. “The way you were acting reminded me of the last time you told me you wanted to focus on your relationship. I was just scared I was going to lose you again.”

The tone he uses makes your heart ache, the same guilt you felt these past few days coming back when you put yourself in his shoes. You had no idea that the way you were acting would affect him this way, never once imagining that he thought you would cut off this friendship while you were just coming to terms with the fact that you harbored strong feelings for him. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry,” you sigh, palm resting on his chest, feeling each beat of his heart, no longer racing like before, confident and steady in it’s pace because he knows you’re not going anywhere. “I’m stupid, and freaked out after what I did, and just needed to gather my thoughts before saying anything.”

He cranes his head away from you, a confused look on his face. “After what you did? What did you do?”

Fuck.

“Uhm,” you start with a strained laugh, refusing to look up at him out of embarrassment, but the truth has to come out so you power through it.  “So, the night of the date, I sort of got home earlier than I told you I did.”

His eyes narrow at you, refusing to give anything away before he knew where this was going. “Okay, go on.”

“And I sort of heard you through the walls.” You look up at him now, your guilty stare spelling it out for him. His eyes widen before he can conceal his surprise, cheeks warming up instantly because oh boy, he knew exactly where this was going. “And then, I sort of...joined.”

“You lied to me!” he shouts, shocked smile on his face as he recalls the way you had replied to his texts, telling him you had just gotten home and going the extra mile to say you were in a totally different room when in reality, you were sprawled out in your bed after just getting off to the sound of him.

Filthy. And also kind of hot. Jungkook was definitely into that, something he’ll totally proposition you into doing again because why not.  

“I know! I couldn’t help it, it was so hot, and I felt so guilty. But, you’re technically the reason why my orgasm gave me my epiphany and let me realize I really do like you. So, I think I did us both a favor by being a dirty liar.” He’s laughing instantly, fingers gripping your cheeks to turn your head up, planting a firm kiss onto your lips obnoxiously.

“Alright, you’re forgiven. Plus, consider us even because I have definitely heard you getting off on your own plenty of times too.” A squeal of surprise fills the air as you swat at his chest, burying your face into his shirt and feeling the rumble of his laughter. It really wasn’t ever intentional. The walls are thin, you weren’t exactly quiet, and he couldn’t just lay there and ignore it. So call him an opportunist, or a pervert, because you were one too. 

Jungkook is cheeky though, knowing how to get under your skin in the best way, and you can already tell you’re in for a ride when he gets close to your ear and whispers, “You wanna show me how you did it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you snort, peering up at him with mischief in your eyes.

“You did say I could torture you later.” He smiles innocently, fingers pinching your chin as he kisses you again. “It’s later.”

The sweet laughter that escapes you makes his heart skip a beat, still not able to come to terms that this was happening and wasn’t some dream of his that he’d wake up from. He kisses the tops of your cheeks first, then your nose, before reaching your lips, his hand gently caressing your skin. Jungkook had no intention of torturing you tonight, knowing how tired you typically were after work on a normal day, and after drawing two orgasms out of you that left you shaking, he knows how close you are to sleep with the way your eyes droop. 

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t give up on crushes and love?” he mumbles against your lips, inching back to stare down at you. 

“I’m glad I stopped looking for it in the wrong places.” Your hands wrap around his neck, toying with his hair before pulling him back to you, reattaching your lips because you just couldn’t seem to get enough of him. 

Every single moment you shared, from moving in and awkwardly trying to get to know each other, the ups and downs of failed relationships, the push that started it all at the club, and every almost moment in between brought you full circle to right now. There probably won’t be a moment where you don’t wish you had done this sooner, worked past your worry of ruining a good friendship in fear of what could happen, but the past helped mold you into who you are, strengthening your relationship to be the way it is now.

Right now had you thinking of the future, and there was nothing more exciting than that.

[luvnami]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - wahh it’s here! can’t believe my brainrot of osamu teaching a cooking class turned into this long fic lol... i hope you enjoy it!! it was fun crafting the story with my beta readers and i put a lot of effort into it!!! itadakimasu <3

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @forgetou​ @amjustagirl​ (muacks 2x) + tq to everyone who helped me with the banner!!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - you’re suna’s younger sibling, food, heartbreak, angst but happy ending, mentions of stabbing (joke), kita dances to ‘ice cream’ by selena gomez and blackpink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood (brief), suna beats (redacted) up

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - miya osamu x gn!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - you fall in love with miya osamu once more, but you’re afraid of getting hurt again.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5535

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

1. Cook the rice according to your rice cooker, then transfer the cooked rice to a separate bowl to cool it down.

“What ya want t’do is scorch the soy sauce.”

The class presses themselves against Osamu’s workbench as they scribble down notes on their recipe printouts. Their lips purse to ooh and aah at his cooking skills, though you’re pretty sure that they’re more interested in how his biceps flex when he flips the wok with a trained flick of the wrist. 

You stand at the very edge of the group. It’s better than getting close with a group of hungry housewives, really. If grocery store and department mall sales have ever told you anything, it’s to never get in the way of what a seasoned housewife wants. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t learnt the way of being a homemaker just yet. 

You’re unemployed, right in the middle of a month and a half-ish long transfer between jobs. You currently stay at your brother Suna’s place — which is really just an apartment filled with dirty laundry overflowing from its seams.

Turns out Suna himself is a bit of a gossip.  He told Kita who told Atsumu who told Osamu that you’re stuck at his place 24/7 with no friends or entertainment in the lovely city of Nagano. It’s just mountains and trees as far as the eye can see all around — and there’s only so many hikes you can take each week. 

“Why don’t you take a cookin’ class?” 

“Cookin’?” Your face screwed up in confusion. “ What for?”

“So that you can actually pull your weight around the house and make me something to eat.”

You chucked a pillow at his head and began to list all the things you did while staying at his apartment. Laundry, cleaning the floor, doing grocery shopping (even if it was only instant noodles and snacks), finding his disgustingly sweaty socks under the sofa and many other important chores, thank you very much.

Besides, you weren’t as eager when you saw who was the one that would be holding the classes. With his picture plastered across the front of a pamphlet, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Years of chasing his dreams and training in a kitchen had done Osamu wonders. 

You had half a mind to smack Suna in the head with the yellow, glossy paper, but instead you quietly tucked it into a corner of the guest room to look at later. You were sure Suna hadn’t forgotten your history with Osamu just yet — but perhaps he assumed that enough time had passed to heal your wounds.

Either way, there’s no going back now. That’s how you ended up at Osamu’s ‘Cooking class for homemakers — you can do it too!’, except you aren’t a homemaker. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as the sound of sizzling soy sauce fills the air. Osamu pauses for a while before beginning to mix the rice with the sauce, wielding his spatula and wok expertly like weapons.

“Miya-san, you’re amazing!” someone gushes.

He lets out a bashful laugh. “This is nothing. I’m sure everyone will be able to do this by the end of class today!”

You wonder if he’s ever considered being a teacher. The demonstration on how to make shrimp fried rice is soon over and everyone returns to their benches, eager to try out the recipe. You are no different. Scurrying to your bench at the very back of the classroom, you exchange glances between the printed recipe handout and your tray of ingredients.

“Need any help?” 

Osamu’s voice and looming presence makes you jump.

“Woah! Careful there,” he chuckles, his fingers gently prying a knife out of your hands.

Unconsciously, you had raised it in shock when Osamu snuck up on you. The knife now lays safely on the tabletop and you feel the eyes of the entire class boring into you.

“Sorry, Miya-san. I didn’t see you,” you apologise meekly.

“Don’t worry about it, I shouldn't have scared ya like that. And no need for the formalities! You’re my friend’s sister, afta’ all.”

Oh goodness. You half expect the class to pick up their pots and pans and run at you right this moment. You swallow back the half hearted ‘Osamu-san’ that rises in your throat. Your heart trembles in your chest and for a second, the silence that weighs heavily between the both of you turns awkward. 

“Miya-san! Could you help me with this please?” 

You’ve never been so glad to hear Tachibana’s sickly shrill voice before. Osamu is quick to wave goodbye to you before hurrying over to her bench, a smile still on his face. You breathe a sigh of relief. 

You make a mental note to tell Suna that Osamu should just stick to placating those housewives and leave you the hell alone. The last thing you want is to have blackmail spread around the neighbourhood by these gossipy housewives, or worse, have their daughters hunt you down and chop you up into pieces.

Whatever. You’re just here to learn how to make shrimp fried rice and then go home to your annoying older brother. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be here for long. Miya Osamu just happens to be the local heartthrob, the handsome and eligible bachelor chased by anyone single and ready to mingle. You have absolutely nothing to do with someone so popular and good-looking. And for goodness sake, he’s your brother’s high school friend and your… Well, you know. 

Your face burns and you pick up the knife again, grip tightening on its handle. You begin chopping at the onions with renewed determination.

(Later on, when you bring back a tupperware of fried rice for Suna, he looks you in the eye and asks “Shrimp fried this rice?”.

You shoot him a glare.

“I fried this rice.”)

2. Prepare all the fillings that you are going to use and set aside, such as pickled plums or tuna mayo. Prepare your seaweed sheets.

What you don’t expect is for Miya Osamu to show up at your doorstep the next day with boxes of food, cartons of drinks and a very noisy brother of his in tow. 

“Rin, where can I leave the drinks?” Osamu yells.

“Rin, can I play your PS5?” Atsumu shouts.

You think that they are very different, the Miya twins. Suna takes a minute to finish putting on some clothes (you had answered the door, thankfully. No one wants to see Suna Rintarou in Pikachu boxers) before bursting out of his room.

He’s quick to smack Atsumu’s ‘dirty little setter hands’ away from his precious Playstation, directing Osamu to what constitutes the apartment’s kitchen — a second-hand fridge and the building-installed gas stove that works only if you hit it hard enough. You’re surprised that neither you or Suna haven't died of a house fire or gas poisoning by now.

It doesn’t take long for the other Inarizaki alumni to arrive at Suna’s apartment in a series of doorbell rings. Kita even brings along a large bottle of sake, to which everyone cheers loudly. You don’t understand why they had chosen Suna’s place to have a reunion party. Seriously, wouldn't Onigiri Miya or some other izakaya have been a better choice?

However, there’s free flow of drinks and lots of yummy snacks, so you decide to let the noise wash over you and stand by the food table to pick at the trays of pizza, fried chicken and other finger food. Aran even offers you a drink, smiling sweetly before going off to wrangle Atsumu from trying to initiate a beer chugging competition. Some things just never change, you suppose.

“Having fun?”

You jump and nearly drop the plate of food that you hold.

“You have a horrible habit of scaring people, Miya- Osamu.”

His first name comes out awkward, tumbling off of your tongue as you use a pair of chopsticks to carefully pile back some mentaiko mayonnaise onto a slice of tamagoyaki. Osamu settles into the crook of the kitchen counter next to you with a playful grin on his face.

“Do I really?”

“Don’t forget that the first time you did that, someone nearly got stabbed.”

You pop the tamagoyaki into your mouth. It’s delicious — the egg’s sweetness balances out the salty sauce. You wonder if there’s enough left on the tray for seconds. 

“How’s the reunion going?” you ask nonchalantly, and shuffle a few centimetres away from him.

You hope Osamu doesn’t notice that. He does, however, but chooses not to comment on it. He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He’s close enough for you to get a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing. Your head spins for a second. 

“Oh, none of us have gotten drunk just yet. I’m pretty sure we’ll be playing beer pong or something later on.”

You steel yourself against the urge to look at what Osamu is wearing. Don’t look, don’t look, definitely don’t look. Miya Osamu is, has been, a dangerous man to fall in love with. You can’t afford to- 

Perhaps gouging your eyes out would have been a better choice in theory. Even a glance from where you stand beside him is enough to see that not only is he wearing a tight, black T-shirt, Osamu also has a pair of sweatpants on. Is it a sin to wear sweatpants? Probably so, especially with the way it makes your throat run dry. 

“Beer pong, huh?” You try your best to mumble somewhat nonchalantly. “Who won the last time?”

“Kita.”

“Kita?!” you gasp. 

Even that’s enough to make you forget about Osamu and his stupid (and very sexy) sweatpants. 

“Yeah, right? That was the first time he participated. All of us got left drunk in the street, so we decided to do it at someone’s place this year.”

You let out a soft laugh at the thought of a bunch of grown men piled over each other on the road. You don’t particularly like the thought of cleaning up after them tonight, though. 

The lack of words between you and Osamu descends into snorts of laughter that trickle in from the tiny living room. Aran throws his head back, drink nearly spilling out of his cup. Ginjima laughs so loud you see Omiomi cover his ears and Suna holds his phone up, filming every second of Atsumu’s defeat. 

Osamu opens his mouth as if to ask you something.

“C’mon! Yer killin’ me, Kita-san!” Atsumu yells, socked feet and waving arms trying to match the onscreen character’s movements.

Kita, on the other hand, is scoring perfect marks without as much effort wasted. You giggle to yourself as he moves his hips, shaking them here and there. A small smile quirks his lips upwards as he finishes with a flawless ending move on ‘Ice Cream’, the Just Dance characters fading into oblivion on the screen. Atsumu crumbles to the floor in defeat. 

Osamu’s lips form a straight line as he watches you laugh along, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He curses Atsumu’s birth and swallows back his embarrassment.

“Did ya see that, Osamu? Oh- Kita-san is so good at everything!” you gush.

“Atsumu just sucks.”

When you laugh, Osamu thinks something in his chest lurches. Regret makes his head go foggy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

3. Place cling wrap over a rice bowl. Place some of the cooked rice over the centre of the cling wrap and make a well.

“No way ya got a love letter!” Atsumu yelled.

“Ya get yer fair share. We share t’same face, why shouldn’t I get some?” Osamu retorted, rolling his eyes. 

Suna watched as the twins began to gripe and argue about who was the better looking sibling again. Nothing unusual, really, given how this occurred every odd day of the week.

“S’gotta be a prank. No way someone likes a loser like you,” Suna mused.

In retaliation, Osamu threw him a stink eye. “You two are just jealous,” he sniffed.

The letter had been written on pretty pink paper, all hearts and cute handwriting as his secret admirer asked him to meet them on the roof after school. Not that Osamu wasn’t affected by it, of course. It always rubbed his ego the right way to know that someone preferred him over Atsumu. Though, it wasn’t like he was interested in anyone then. It only took a second before Osamu ripped the letter in half.

“Woah woah woah! Yer crazy! Whatcha gonna do if some pretty girl gave that to ya?” 

Atsumu’s eyes widened in shock, almost reaching forward to grab the shreds of letter that Osamu had torn up. 

“Does it matter? S’not like I’m interested in datin’ right now,” he replied.

“Seriously? What if she’s like, super duper hot!”

Osamu’s face screwed up. “Are ya a horndog?”

Just as Atsumu was about to shout at his dear brother again, you opened the door to their classroom and hurried in. You had a bento box in hand and a cute pout on your face as you placed it on Suna’s table.

“Rin! You forgot your bento at home again!” 

“Oh.” Suna blinked. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, you gotta stop forgetting your things! I can’t be bringing them to you all the time-”

“Hey, Suna.” Atsumu perked up, referring to you. “Would ya go on a date with Samu or me? Me, right? Definitely me!”

Your face flushed with heat. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“‘Samu got a love letter in his shoe locker this morning. Cliche, huh?” your brother said between bites of his lunch. 

“Mm, yeah. Cliche,” you mumbled. 

You looked around anxiously for any sign of the love letter. Was it in Osamu’s bag? 

“Can ya believe he tore it up?” Atsumu laughed.

“What?”

Your heart felt like a stone in your chest as you froze, your blood running cold. 

“Yeah! This dumbass doesn’t know how t’appreciate anythin’,” he replied, smacking Osamu on the back of his head.

His twin responded with a muffled growl as he continued to scarf down his absurdly large bento. You fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves, staring down at your feet. You were quick to bid the third years goodbye as you fled their classroom as an inexplicable ache spread through your chest. 

You didn’t focus on your classes for the rest of the day. The fact that Osamu had torn your love letter, written with all your heart and soul as you crumpled draft after draft last night, tipped you over the edge of your fantasies and had you plummeting straight into reality. 

“Oi.”

You looked up from your feet, glancing up at Suna. The both of you were swapping your indoor shoes for outdoor ones, but you had absentmindedly stopped in the middle of slipping your right foot into a shoe. It was nearing the time where they closed the school gates, so there weren’t many students around save for the odd volleyball club member.

“What’re you doing? Put your shoes on properly,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, and slammed the locker door shut once you were done.

You walked a few feet ahead of Suna as you approached the school gate. Your head drooped with each step, tears beginning to mist your eyes. You willed yourself to hold it in till you got home, till you were in the safety of your bedroom to start sobbing your little heart out. Suna tugged on your wrist.

“Are you crying?” he questioned.  

You shook your head quickly, rubbing your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“Oi. Answer me.”

This time, his voice was a little softer, yet held a mixture of irritation and anger behind a crumbling wall of apathy. Who had been the one to make you cry? 

“It’s nothin’,” you choked out. “Let’s just go home.”

You turned your face to the side as tears continued to roll down your cheeks, muffled cries turning into heartbroken sobs. Something inside of Suna’s head clicked. 

“It’s Miya Osamu, isn’t it?” 

You had to bite on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.

“That bastard tore up your letter, didn’t he?”

You gave Suna the tiniest of nods. He let go of your wrist and whipped around, eyebrows furrowed together. Not wanting to date was one thing, but treating your confession like dog shit was something else. Fortunately for him, the Miya twins were changing their shoes in the getabako.

“‘Samu!” Suna yelled.

The gray haired male looked up with a face of confusion.

“Suna? Whaddya want-” Osamu wasn’t able to say anything more as Suna’s fist collided with his face.

Atsumu jumped back with a yelp as the both of them crashed to the ground. Your hands flew to cover your mouth.

“Rin! Stop it!” you cried out.

You dashed over, tripping over your own feet as you tried to pull Suna away from Osamu as they traded blows. It took the work of you, Atsumu and Ginjima (who had been unlucky enough to pass by) to tear the two apart, and even then Osamu was still struggling in his brother’s arms to be let go.

“What t’hell, man!” he snarled. 

Suna wiped his nose, glancing briefly at the crimson that stained his school uniform. The adrenaline was beginning to run low and pain began to settle into his fists and ribs. His shoulders heaved with each breath, and your hands clutched his shirt.

“Rin. No more, please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his back. “No more.”

Suna hated the way your voice trembled as you spoke. He didn’t think it was fair for you to bear the burden of pain while Osamu got to walk away unscathed, leaving you broken in pieces. His fist curled up again.

“It’s not worth it, Rin.”

Suna took in a shaky, deep breath.

You were right.

Miya Osamu wasn’t worth it. 

4. Put about 1tbsp of the filling of your choice on the centre of the rice and cover it with rice.

A week comes and goes after the annual Inarizaki reunion. You’re still finding sticky stains on the floor, as well as food wrappers tossed behind the sofa. Suna sends the group chat a video of you yelling at all of them while wielding a mop with so much fervour Aran asks if you broke it. Atsumu actually apologises and Osamu offers to come over and help clean up. The entire group chat flames him immediately.

As per last week, you walk into Osamu’s cooking class at 2p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s hot outside, droplets of perspiration rolling down your nape. The cool air-conditioning of the classroom is much appreciated and you don your apron behind the gaggle of housewives. You catch snippets of their conversation as they put their items in the cubbies provided. 

“Tanaka-san, did you see the mushrooms that were on sale this Monday?”

“My son is attending this cram school this summer. Here’s the address!”

“My father-in-law keeps complaining about the heat…”

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Miya-san!”

Everyone perks up when Osamu walks through the door. They’re quick to surround him, asking how his day had been. You look tired, take this ginseng drink! It really revitalises your spirits! Did you get a girlfriend yet, Miya-san? My daughter is single, you know! 

You watch as Osamu walks behind his bench, all smiles and “Is that so, Shigeru-san?”. Polite enough to please them, but not enough to make them think that he actually wants to go on a date with their 34 year-old daughter who’s a tired office worker looking out for potential husbands like a hawk. He lets out a heavy exhale, using his cap with the Onigiri Miya logo on it to fan himself.

“Hot today, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

You think that maybe he’s the one that’s making this summer so warm, especially with the way that his shirt clings to his figure and his flushed cheeks that make him look adorable. 

Wait.

You do a double take. Ah, adorable. You must have meant that heart-print apron that Tanaka is wearing today. It is pretty cute, and you wonder if you should ask her where she got it from later on. Definitely not Osamu with his perfect smile that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and definitely not when it’s directed at you.

“Gather around everyone! We’re going to be making gyoza today!”

The demonstration goes as usual — Osamu impresses the housewives, they gasp and someone even touches his forearm and asks “How did you get so strong, Miya-san?”. Not that you care, of course. You certainly don’t. What you’re more concerned about is how Osamu manages to make wrapping the fragile gyoza seem so easy. 

Your fingers pinch at the thick dough, eyebrows furrowed together. No matter what you do, your filling keeps spilling out of the wrapper and so you’ve opted to try out for a thicker piece this time. Not that it really matters — Suna will be the one suffering from food poisoning if it turns out bad, anyways.

“Ah, yer made it too thick,” Osamu says as he strolls over. 

You tense up as he leans over your shoulder, peeking at the chubby gyoza in your hands. You pretend not be affected by how close he is and continue pinching the wings of the dumpling shut.

“They keep bursting,” you sniff. 

“Maybe ya put t’much filling?” Osamu suggests. “Here, lemme show ya. Put tha’ one down and grab a new wrapper. Yeah, just like that.”

You stiffen as Osamu flours his hands and cradles your hands in his. 

“Here ya go. That’s t’much, scoop out some more. That’s it. Now gently…”

Blood rushes to your face as you feel the warmth of his skin seep into yours, his hands rough from years of training and cooking. Scars adorn the tips of his thick fingers and knuckles. You suddenly feel the urge to gently trace them with your thumb, to ask him how he got each one of them. 

Would he let you? Let you so close, that perhaps you would be the one to know every single thing about him?

“You did it!” Osamu says cheerfully. 

He suddenly pulls away, making you plummet back to reality. A perfectly made gyoza sits in your hands.

“I’m looking forward to tasting your gyoza later on. Now keep trying!” 

You’re left dumbfounded as Osamu walks away to help out the other housewives. They stammer and blush when they get too close, but he never holds their hands in his own, never smiles as gently as he does with you.

You place the gyoza on a pan and put the lid on with a little bit more force than what is necessary.

5. Wrap the cling wrap over the rice and squeeze and mould it into a triangle shape with your hands.

You try not to make contact with Osamu after that. Attending his cooking classes becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, where you try to tell him ‘I don’t need any help, Miya-san’ and watch him crawl away in defeat. In fact, you decide to skip the lesson on making hamburgs and instead spend the afternoon watching television.

After all, from what you’ve learnt in the past, Osamu is nothing more than trouble. You think it’s worth the sacrifice now to put some space between the both of you so that you don’t end up heartbroken a second time. 

Though, you do feel a little bad. Just a little bit. One day when Suna’s out at training, you hear the doorbell ring and Osamu’s voice ring through the genkan. You hear his feet shuffle by the door and a heavy thump outside before he leaves. You only open the door when you hear his car pull out of the apartment building’s carpark, and find a packed bento lunch for you in front.

You try to pretend that the bunny cut apples and sakura shaped carrot slices don’t mean anything.

“Ah, Suna-san! Where were you last week?” Tachibana titters as you step into class for the final lesson.

“I wasn’t feeling very well,” you lie. “I think I caught a summer cold.”

“Oh dear, that sounds terrible!” the ladies chorus together. 

You think they’re probably just glad that you didn’t get in the way of their beloved Miya-san. You tug your apron over your head, and ignore Osamu when he greets everyone. His eyes linger on you for a little too long during the demonstration — to the point that he actually burns the skin side of his salmon fillet.

Osamu skirts around your bench like a nervous puppy when the demonstration is over. You don’t seem particularly keen about talking to him, though the tips of your finger tremble when he finally plucks up the courage to stand next to you. It’s not close enough for your elbows to touch, but close enough that he can whisper to you without anyone else hearing him.

“Hey,” he begins, uncertain. His voice wavers slightly.

“Hey,” you reply, wary of what he might say. 

“Are you okay?”

You take a moment to think, tipping the sake bottle carefully to measure out an exact tablespoon of it. He wonders when your hands have seemed so delicate, so small. He aches to hold them in his own again. 

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good.”

It’s quiet, again. Just like that night in Suna’s apartment, with all the noise of the reunion going on around you, except this time it's the clanging of pans and utensils, paired with the chatter of many ladies. 

“I was thinking…” Osamu stares down at your hands, turning the measuring spoon over so that sake splashes onto the hot pan with a sizzle. “Maybe we could get a drink together after this?”

You cover the pan and watch its surface cloud up with condensation. You hide your shaking hands by digging them into the pockets of your apron. 

Osamu swallows. Perhaps he had been too direct with you; scared you off with how quickly he was advancing. Or did Suna tell you to be careful of him? That he didn’t want you falling in love with him a second time? There’s no lie about it, that Osamu had been a grade A asshole back in high school.

But he loves you now; has loved you since then. Would you be willing to give him a second chance?

“Osamu,” you breathe.

His shoulders relax slightly when you don’t call him by his last name. 

“I don’t know what to do.” 

Your voice comes out timid, scared. Osamu’s heart crumbles at the edges. He wonders if you would hate him if he reached out and took your hands in his once more. You’re both adults, perfectly capable of rational thinking if only your hearts hadn’t gotten in the way. Love hurts, they said. You want to agree. 

“We can start it out slow,” Osamu suggests.

“I’m supposed to start my new job next month. I won't be in Nagano for much longer.”

“I’m opening a branch in Tokyo.”

“I’ll be busy settling down. We might not get to see each other often enough.”

“A little is better than nothin’.”

“You’re my brother’s friend.”

“Now, yer just picking at nothing, babe. Didn’t you have a crush on me back in high school, too? That didn’t stop ya, did it?”

Your heart wrestles with your brain, insisting on comfort and that love will always come in the form of someone that isn’t Miya Osamu. You’ll find someone, but will they be better? Will they send food to your doorstep, or send you stupid photos of dogs he saw on the street? Will they chase after you relentlessly for years, will they be Osamu?

A lump forms in your throat and you wonder if this, has been, is love. You tear your heart out from within you and let it cling to your sleeve, as pathetic and scared it is. You don’t mind if it hurts. To never hurt is to never have lived, to never have loved. 

By this point, your eyes have misted up with tears and it hits you- You’re about to cry about your crush in the middle of a cooking class attended by middle-aged ladies. You’ve never been more embarrassed. 

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at Osamu with glittering eyes. 

He ignores the “Miya-san! I need your help!” that rings out in the background. He smiles gently.

“Yeah, really.”

A tear slips down your face. Osamu lets out a breathy chuckle as he swipes it away with his thumb, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“We’ll talk properly after this, alright?” 

You nod numbly. You watch as he hurries off to Shigeru, gasping when he sees how she had completely butchered her fillet. He turns back to you, trying to hold in a snigger. 

You giggle.

Osamu thinks he wants to hear that laugh forever.

6. Remove the cling wrap and cover the bottom of the rice triangle with a nori sheet and set aside.

“One extra large bonito onigiri with spring onions!” you cry out from the counter.

Back in the kitchen, Osamu and another part-time worker scoop steaming rice out of large vats and use their hands to mould them into perfectly shaped triangles. A scoop of filling goes in and a strip of seaweed is wrapped hastily around the onigiri before it's sent to you to package. You place the onigiri carefully into a box and slip it into a paper bag with the shop’s logo on the front for a take-away order. 

The shop is filled with customers even on a Wednesday afternoon. The clock shows 2p.m., past lunch time, yet you can see a queue that snakes out of the shop and down the alleyway. 

Another long day ahead, you think to yourself. 

“It’s our turn!” a little girl squeals as she takes the bag from you, opening it up to peer at the huge onigiri inside. “Mama! ‘giri!” 

Her mother laughs and pats her head. “Don’t forget to say thank you, Haru.”

The girl turns to you, eyes sparkling. “‘Fank you, Miya-shan!” 

A cheery grin almost splits your face in half. Miya-san. Four years on and it still makes your stomach flip whenever you hear that Osamu’s last name has become yours. It was an easy decision for the both of you to get married, really. You had loved each other for years and all you wanted to do in the end was to spend the rest of your lives together.

You quit your office job just before you got married to help Osamu out with the new Onigiri Miya branches. It took some getting used to, but the familiar customers and bright smiles that you see just by serving onigiri each day makes it worth it. It’s tough work, no doubt. But doing what you enjoy with the man you love is more rewarding than it ever could be.

Though, it’s not like your relationship has always been smooth sailing. There are days when you bicker over something stupid (like how you always forget to close the lid of the rice cooker), or when Osamu insists that he isn’t overworking himself (although his eyebags tell otherwise). But love’s a recipe with a few secret ingredients, and you’ve come to master it over the years. 

“Come back soon!”

The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of freshly cooked rice and bonito flakes being stir-fried into furikake. Customers perch on tiny stools as they scarf down onigiri of different shapes and sizes, licking their fingers clean. A plush toy of Onigiri Miya’s mascot sits on the counter next to a potted plant that Atsumu bought (which is surprisingly still alive).

A photograph of the third Tokyo branch’s grand opening hangs on the wall. You and Osamu hold up a bouquet of flowers, smiling toothily at the camera, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight. 

“One medium onigiri with tuna mayo, coming right up!”

You jump as Osamu shouts out the order suddenly and you nearly drop the onigiri that he hands to you.

“Woah, careful there,” he chuckles, a hand ghosting the small of your back.

“You have ‘ta stop scaring me, ‘Samu,” you huff and roll your eyes playfully.

Osamu grins at you and the edges of his eyes crinkle up. You place the onigiri safely into its packaging and place it on the counter for a customer to collect, before turning back to plant a kiss on his cheek. Osamu’s face flushes pink and he hurries away, mumbling something about bonito flakes.

Your heart soars in your chest.

Yeah, it has been, will be, worth it. 

7. Repeat the same steps as above to use the rest of the rice with other fillings that you prepared.

[julemmaes]

Robyn

Rowaelin Month, Day Ten

A/N: I'd planned on posting them in order, but you get what you get. Idk when the other prompts will come tbf. I hope soon. Anyway, I managed to write over 6k words today and I'm pretty fucking proud.

This is just fluff over fluff, so yep enjoy!!

Word count: 3,047

Rowan was unbelievably late as he sped through the streets of Orynth.

So late that the school had called not only him, but also the front desk of the place where he worked when he hadn't answered the call on his personal phone. Sorscha, his assistant, had entered his office with an embarrassed smile on her lips, as if she didn't want to tell him that he had forgotten for the umpteenth time to pick up his daughter from school.

Lorcan had joined him, for some strange reason, but Rowan had stopped bothering when it came to his best friend. He'd been trying to figure out how he reasoned for years and had come to the conclusion that there was no logical sense in the actions of the man sitting next to him, who was currently singing at the top of his lungs to one of the songs on the Frozen CD - which much to the chagrin of both of them, had gotten stuck in his car radio months before, forcing them into hours of torture.

He would never deny that the songs were all quite catchy, but after the sixteenth time Rowan had had to listen to Let It Go at maximum volume, his positive opinion of the film had begun to waver.

As they pulled into the school parking lot, Rowan noticed with deep regret that the only cars still there were those of the teachers and school staff.

They both got out of the car, Rowan walking quickly towards the entrance while Lorcan dragged behind him.

He greeted the caretakers sitting at the entrance, who returned a big smile. A smile that grew even wider when his large, imposing friend entered a few moments later. He stopped to talk to the old ladies and Rowan walked down the corridor he knew led to Robyn's classroom.

He could hear muffled voices from inside the teachers' room on the left and the one he knew belonged to Miss Galathynius coming from the right. He looked out over the classroom, spotting the two people sitting at a desk.

As soon as his daughter saw him, her eyes widened and a huge smile flashed across her face.

No words. No "hello, daddy!" or "I missed you!" from the little girl.

Her teacher turned as she leapt out of her chair and ran towards him, hugging his legs and looking up at him. Rowan smiled at her in turn, running a hand over her hair that was shot in every direction.

"Hello, little bird," he murmured to her. The child's smile widened even more if that was possible.

The woman a few feet away from them pulled herself upright, crossing her arms over her chest and offering a sincere smile to the child, who hid behind his thighs.

Rowan was about to tell her that Robyn was shy with everyone like this, ready to defend his daughter's behaviour as he was used to doing in front of every adult, but he was beaten to the punch.

"It's good to see you, Mr Whitethorn," she said, extending a hand. Rowan shook it without hesitation. "Actually, I just wanted to write you a letter regarding Robyn," she continued, never taking her eyes off the little girl. "Nothing serious," she hastened to reassure him when Rowan grimaced, "quite the contrary. Robyn is remarkably good. One of the best in the class, though I shouldn't offer that information so bluntly."

Miss Galathynius winked at him, but he couldn't process what he'd just been told.

"Sorry, could you-"

The little hands clamped around his trousers tightened a fraction more and Rowan looked down, trying to figure out what was bothering his daughter, but then something happened that he hadn't even dared to dream about in recent times.

"You're here!"

The little girl broke off and ran away from him in less than the blink of an eye.

Rowan turned just in time to see Lorcan grab Robyn in mid-air, spinning her around as he brought her to his chest and showered her with kisses. The loud, incessant laughter that erupted from her seemed too much coming from that fragile little body, but he never tired of hearing it.

"Why hello baby!" said Lorcan laughing in turn, starting to tickle her until she begun to rebel and he was forced to let her slide to the floor. Robyn was still laughing at the top of her lungs and nearly fell to the ground as she squealed left and right, letting herself be pushed around by the closest thing to an uncle she had ever had.

When Rowan turned back to the woman, she was wide-eyed and her lips slightly parted as she watched the massive man dressed completely in black and the menacing face turn into a completely different person the second he had seen Robyn.

He chuckled, "I know, it's not every day you get to see a little girl be so comfortable with a brute like that."

Lorcan, who was listening to everything, looked him straight in the eye and without stopping smiling and playing with the little girl, mouthed to him to fuck off.

"Well, yeah. You caught me a little off guard." she confessed, still shocked to hear how Robyn was having a full conversation with Lorcan. They couldn't hear anything of what she was actually saying, but even just the fact she was talking to someone seemed to have Aelin unsettled.

She returned her attention to Rowan and let out a breath that sounded more like a giggle, "I've never heard her laugh before."

He nodded, blushing a little at the teacher's surprised but relieved tone.

"I'm sure the dean warned you about the problem she has," he said in a low voice. He grimaced at her poor choice of words, "I mean, not problem, but the difficulty she finds in interacting with people she doesn't know."

Liar, he told himself. Robyn hadn't spoken to anyone but him and Lorcan since the day Lyria had died. It wasn't a difficulty, but a response to the trauma that prevented her from speaking to anyone who wasn't part of her immediate family.

"I know, I know. We've been looking for solutions together." she informed him. "I give her a white board every morning. Come on, I'll show you." she turned to the desk they were sitting at earlier and raised the magnetic board, on which a few words were scribbled on. "I'll write here what she might need. Yes. No. I need to go to the bathroom. I'm thirsty. I'm hungry." she read, listing the various options. Rowan gaped. "We've only just started going over the alphabet for a second time, so she can't really read or write yet, as I imagine you know, but the little drawings next to each sentence help her."

She continued talking, but he couldn't quite follow.

The woman in front of him - aside from being breathtakingly beautiful - had done as much as she could to help her child with communication.

"Mr. Whitethorn-"

"Rowan. Please, call me Rowan." he said, clearing his throat once he realized how hoarse it sounded to his ears. Lorcan walked up to them at that point, still holding Robyn in his arms and positioned himself next to him, letting their shoulders touch in a comforting way.

"Call me Aelin, then," she smiled at them both. Then she made a small grimace, turning to Rowan, "I wanted to ask if it bothered you, that I sought a solution like that. Maybe I put her in distress, embarrassed her. I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I wanted to solve this on my own. I really wanted to discuss it with you, with your husband too, to avoid misunderstandings. Maybe we could arrange a meeting."

He was about to tell her that she had given him the exact opposite of annoyance, that he had been more than pleased that she had helped Robyn this way, when her words finally registered.

Lorcan, beside him, had opened his mouth wide and his lips were slowly bending into a mischievous smile.

Rowan furrowed his brow, "I'm sorry, what?"

Aelin's smile seemed to falter. "A meeting? With you? To talk about how to handle the situation," then she shifted her gaze to Lorcan, "You're more than welcome to join as well. I didn't know Robyn had two dads, I apologise for assuming Robyn had a mum and dad. That was very rude of me-"

"I love this," Lorcan whispered, laughing in shock. He turned to Rowan with eyes that sparkled with amusement, "I would definitely be the top."

Rowan looked at him with an expression of complete shock on his face, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Robyn gasped, opening her eyes wide and bringing a hand to her mouth, pointing then to Rowan's.

"Yeah, sorry, love. I shouldn't have said the bad word." he apologised, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. He turned back to Miss Galathynius, "I'm sorry to have to disappoint you, but we're not married."

"No need to lie, sweetie. I'm sure Aelin," he gave her a knowing look, "doesn't mind at all about our relationship status."

Aelin nodded, "Well, yes. That doesn't change anything. Mr..." she turned to Lorcan, searching for a name.

"Salvaterre."

"Mr. Salvaterre can still attend. The fact that you are not yet married is no reason why you cannot both be present at the meeting. You don't have to worry, we are a very tolerant school and if anyone bothers you, you can come directly to me."

A sound of sheer glee escaped Lorcan.

Aelin continued, "I mean it. I was pleased to see both of you today. I was also pleased to see Robyn smiling so much." she concluded, looking the little one in the face.

Rowan took a deep breath, bracing himself, "No, I meant, we're not a couple. We're not gay. He's her uncle."

The woman's blonde eyebrows shot up and a second later she turned almost as red as the dress Robyn was wearing as Lorcan shook his head muttering something very much like 'you're no fun', which made Robyn giggle.

"Why did you even get off the car?" he asked him exasperated.

Lorcan shrugged, "Because I missed my little bean, you monster." he replied, clutching Robyn to his chest. The little girl clutched Lorcan's shirt in her chubby little hands and Rowan huffed, shaking his head.

Aelin brought her hands to her face, leaning against the desk behind her. She shook her head, her face still hidden, "Oh, god. I'm so sorry."

Lorcan let out a dry laugh, "Don't worry about it. It was fun while it lasted." then he turned to Rowan again, who was still trying to recover from the idea of being involved in a relationship with his friend, "You're really no fun."

"Yeah, no fun dad." repeated Robyn.

Silence fell over the class. Rowan looked at her with wide eyes and blinked once, twice. Robyn was staring at him with a sweet scowl that mimicked so much that of the man who was still holding her, but Rowan couldn't get over the fact that his daughter had spoken while Aelin was still beside them.

He was about to talk, noticing how Robyn had started squirming in Lorcan's arms, when there was a knock at the door.

They both turned, Aelin peering over Rowan's shoulder, and saw the figure of a petite girl with black hair and eyes standing in the doorway, watching them with her head slightly bent to the side. She had a tag on her t-shirt that was too colourful to belong to someone who didn't work in a school with children, so he guessed she was a teacher herself. Besides, Rowan felt like he'd seen her elsewhere. Probably every day when he picked Robyn up from school, he said to himself.

"I know you're not supposed to eavesdrop but I stopped by earlier and heard you were a couple of dads," she said by way of introduction. "I just wanted to reassure you that the school is an extremely safe place. I'm the one who did most of the interviews with the parents," that's where they had met then, "and one of the questions that is asked is just about the tolerance of the people who will be attending the school."

Aelin watched her, remaining silent the whole time and putting on an amused smile, nodded, "That's what I was telling them. How tolerant the school is. They make such a cute couple, don't you think, Elide?"

Rowan turned to her, arching an eyebrow, silently asking her what she was doing. The woman, as if she could truly understand what he was trying to convey to her, nodded her head towards Lorcan, who Rowan only then noticed was standing weirdly, his eyes fixed on the woman in the doorway.

He grinned, deciding to take his revenge right away. "Oh, yes. Thank you so much for the reassurance," Rowan began to play along as well. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lorcan turn towards him, dropping Robyn to the floor, who made a disapproving noise at being dumped so suddenly. "We are happy to know that this school is a safe place for our daughter. And for us."

Elide offered him a blinding smile, "Good. I'm happy to hear that you are pleased so far. And I am happy that Aelin is the one who is taking your daughter's class. She's the best one here."

Rowan didn't know her yet, but he knew the thing Elide had just said could only be true.

"Well," she said again, giving them an apologetic smile, "I really must go now, but if you need anything, you can find all my contact details on the website. Have a nice day!"

Aelin and Rowan said their goodbyes, thanking her. Lorcan took a while to recover, but when he realised he was staring into empty space he ran towards the door, almost stepping on little Robyn, who was moved by Aelin.

"We are very much not gay, miss!" he shouted into the hallway. Aelin, now beside him and with a hand on Robyn's shoulder, cackled. With Lorcan's infinite luck, someone walked by just then and gave him a stern look. "Oh, shut up ma'am. I'm an ally. The best ally."

Rowan shook his head as Lorcan launched himself in pursuit of the poor teacher and burst out laughing when he heard him shout, "I'm not homophobic! I'm willing to suck someone's cock if I have to prove it to you!"

Aelin opened her mouth wide before bursting out laughing in turn.

Robyn, seeing both adults so happy, giggled too and Rowan bent down to pick her up. The little girl laid her full head of white-light hair on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

She was tired and Rowan really needed to get her home to sleep.

He glanced at Aelin and reduced his lips to a thin line, "I'm sorry about the commotion, I'll try not to bring him into the building again. Even if it means tying him to the seat."

The soft laugh she gave made something tighten in his chest. He frowned.

Aelin didn't seem to notice the effect she had on him, "Don't worry, Elide is crazy about fools like him. If he says the right things, we might start seeing each other outside of school too."

Rowan nodded, now too caught up in the thought of having to take Robyn home to focus on anything else.

They agreed on when to hold the parent-teacher meeting and then he grabbed Robyn's backpack, walking towards the exit.

He was thoughtless as he reached into his pocket for his keys and balanced everything else - including the girl - on his other arm, but when Robyn's hand brushed his cheek, he looked down and his eyes met their twins. Green against green.

"What is it?"

The little girl's voice never stopped making him smile. Each time was like the first time she had said dada.

"I really like her."

Rowan frowned, "Who?"

"Miss Aelin." she whispered, almost as if she was afraid they might hear her.

He smiled at her, "Yeah? You like her?"

"She's nice to me."

Rowan had to put her down as he opened the door and let her get into the back seats by herself.

"I'm glad she's treating you well, love," he let her know, buckling her in.

He hoped she'd tell him more about her new teacher, but like any kid her age, the topic of conversation couldn't last for more than four lines apiece, "Where's Uncle Lorcan?"

Rowan snorted, "No idea, little bird."

Robyn nodded, "Elide is pretty too."

And as if those words had summoned him, Lorcan appeared beside the car, making them both scream. He entered the car in a heartbeat and turned to his daughter, who was still settling into the seat. "Do you know Miss Lochan?"

But before she could answer him, Rowan had entered the car in turn and smacked the back of his head, which made the Robyn giggle, "You're not using my daughter as your wingman. Now stop it and buckle up."

Lorcan gave him a gentle push, before doing as he was told and for once he was happy he'd convinced him to do something.

Or at least, Rowan thought he had convinced him.

"What if I left you a note to deliver to Miss Lochan, Rob? Would you be up for it?"

Rowan knew, even without looking at her, that she was nodding emphatically.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he murmured, "Could you stop calling my daughter Rob, please? You'll give her an existential crisis."

Lorcan clicked his tongue against his palate, "Rowan, I'm not giving her a damn thing. We live in this new world, okay? Your daughter could be called Simon and still be a beautiful princess. Grow up and educate yourself before you talk shit."

"Aaaah!" shouted Robyn, "Bad word!"

Rowan sighed and shook his head, but still he was smiling.

This was his life. Had been for the past two years.

And he wouldn't change it for the world.

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[seita]

— don’t ask | hitoshi shinsou (m.)

pairing: hitoshi shinsou/f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

wordcount: 𝟷𝟹𝟻𝟿𝟶

cw: roommate!au, sugar baby!au

tags: heavy pining, arguments, briefly ft.kaminari, rejection, possessiveness, jealousy, crying, dirty talk, pet names, dom!shinsou, fingering, riding, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, praise (?), marking, creampie, angst with a happy ending.

note: this is a thank you for 5k followers! i can’t believe i hit such a milestone in only like a month and a half! i appreciate the love and support everyone has given me and i promise to put out more quality content going forwarad!

— you thought it was strange a guy your age made such good money by seemingly doing nothing. whenever you would question him about his income, he’d grow defensive. once a month, a left the house for a few days; leaving to perform a mysterious job he didn’t want you to know about.

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© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.  

When you saw the flier for someone looking for a new roommate, you honestly thought it was one big scam. You assumed that the second you set up a meeting, you would be kidnapped and never seen again. 

Being a lowly college kid meant you didn’t have your sea legs in the adult world quite yet. Swamped with studies, horrible at managing your time and your stress levels, you were left a constant mess. So, your solution was to stick to studying for the most part and work part-time so the job didn’t take up too much of your time. 

Another genius idea you had was the age-old roommate situation. You started out looking for listings online for preferably Musutafu or Tokyo. Alas, you came up with nothing after a handful of weeks and were intending to give up. 

However, a stop by the grocery store changed everything. It was a flyer for someone looking for a roommate in an area of Tokyo that you knew to be pretty pricey. 

It was close enough to your college campus so you wouldn’t have to worry about a stupid commute. You thought it was too good to be true as you looked at the information stating you wouldn’t even need to pay rent. You’d simply have to split some bills and buy your own groceries. 

The idea of not having to shell out hundreds of dollars a month was appealing on its own; you’d definitely be able to save with a living situation like that. 

The logical side of you was weary, however. The entire thing could be a ploy to trick some unsuspecting victim, like yourself, into who knows what. 

Still, it probably wouldn’t hurt to contact the person just in case it wasn’t a trick. No harm in checking, you supposed. 

Tugging the flyer down from where it was pinned up on the bulletin board, you folded it up and tucked it away in the front pocket of your purse to take care of when you got home from classes. 

All of that led you to meeting one Hitoshi Shinsou. He was a tall, tired looking guy around your age. His most prominent feature was the fluffy mess of purple hair that was atop his head. When you first met him, he fixed you with a cold gaze ― his purple irises burning holes into you. And for a second you were sure that you were right on your hunch and you were never going to return home. 

Nothing of consequence happened, naturally, and instead he showed you the bedroom you would be using and handed you a key before sitting down on the couch to watch TV. The whole exchange was unlike anything you expected. When you questioned him he simply told you he’d get everything straight for you and that you could begin to move in whenever. 

So you did.

As expected of such an expensive apartment, the room you were given was great. It was roomy and nothing like you assumed you would wind up with. Most college students wind up with a shitty roommate, a one-bedroom apartment, and instant ramen for dinner every night. 

Instead you got the chillest roommate known to mankind. Shinsou barely even made a peep. Most of the time you found him relaxing in front of the TV watching murder documentaries. You did learn that the poor guy had insomnia and as a result was up almost every night. Sometimes you would catch him snoozing on the couch but that rarely lasted more than 2 or 3 hours before he was up and about once again. 

You did learn that the man was a lousy cook so he mostly lived on instant ramen before you moved in. Luckily for him, you enjoyed cooking and decided to be the one to make meals for the two of you. To say Shinsou was appreciative was an understatement. 

Simply put, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. 

And so bloomed an easy friendship with him. Shinsou made it easy to befriend, although he was a quiet guy he was funny and charismatic; the type of guy who probably had a lot of friends. 

You lived there for about a month when you noticed the first weird disappearance. 

You had been laying in bed, eyes closed as you slowly began to drift off to the white noise of your overhead fan. 

What lulled you from your daze was the beep of the alarm at the front door. Sitting up, you listened carefully only to hear a couple beeps and the click of the door shutting. 

Frowning, you got out of the bed and wrapped your blanket around your shoulders to shield yourself from the chilled apartment air. Your footsteps were silent as you padded your way to the entryway. You immediately noticed that Shinsou’s shoes were gone from where they should have been sitting beside the front door. 

You checked his bedroom to find that he was, indeed, not there. You simply assumed he had gone for a walk or to a convenience store or something since he couldn’t sleep and went back to bed. That was certainly not something uncommon for the insomniac you called a roommate. 

When you got up in the morning, however, you noticed he was still gone. 

You wandered into the kitchen, intending to open the fridge to start something for breakfast only to find a cute cat-themed sticky note plastered to the front of it. Written in your roommates sloppy handwriting was “I won’t be home for a few days.”

Short and to the point but still causing questions to arise in response. 

You had no choice but to carry on. You could text him and question him but you had a feeling you wouldn’t actually get any information. 

Two days was how long he was gone for. He turned on the second night, looking as tired as usual. 

“I’m home,” he called with a heavy sigh, kicking his shoes off before dropping the heavy duffle bag he carried to the floor. 

“Hey,” you greeted over the back of the couch, “I uh...made dinner but I didn’t make any for you. I didn’t know when you’d be home.”

“It’s fine, I already ate anyway,” he hummed, dropping his full weight onto the empty cushion beside you. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. 

You eyed him and decided to simply not ask about the hickey on his pale skin. 

The time ticked past midnight and you stood up, yawning as you stretched, “I’m heading to bed.”

“Alright,” he mumbled, finally stealing the remote from you, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hey…” you paused at the entrance to the hallway, deciding to chance it, “Where did you go anyway?”

“...To work,” he replied, simply. 

His tone held a sense of finality to it, leaving no room for you to inquire exactly what that meant. So, with a final bid, you went to your bedroom. 

It was almost like deja vu, laying in bed as you fell asleep only to hear the beeping of that alarm. You sat up and climbed out of bed, intending to catch Shinsou before he was gone but as you reached the living room, you heard the front door click shut and he was gone. 

Sighing, you wandered to the kitchen to find another note like you’d seen last time stuck to the fridge. 

As you glanced at the calendar on the wall, you realized it was almost exactly a month since the last time he did this ― you remembered because he left on the 23rd and it was currently the 22nd. You could practically feel the dots forming but you had absolutely no way of connecting them. 

Deciding to retire to bed, you attempted to sleep but found yourself thinking of Shinsou. 

Two months in a row he vanished around the same time, in the middle of the night leaving only a note. Now that you thought about it, he didn’t seem to have a job ― he only said his disappearance was part of his job. But he came back with a hickey. 

Sighing, you rolled over and attempted to fall asleep. 

Two days later, he came home. 

“I’m back,” he grumbled. 

Immediately, you noted the aggravated tone to his voice. Sitting up from where you were sprawled out on the couch, you eyed him. Instead of just dropping his duffle bag like he had last time, he took it straight to the laundry room. 

As he disappeared into the kitchen, you got up and followed him. He was squatting on the floor, rummaging through the bag as he tossed out pieces of clothing. You leaned on the door jam with your arms folded on your chest. Whether or not he knew you were there, you didn’t know. 

“There’s some dinner left for you,” you said softly, watching him pause and look over his shoulder at you.

“I already ate,” he replied, voice cold. 

You frowned, standing up straight, “Alright, well…” you sighed, “I’ll wrap it up and put it in the fridge in case you get hungry tonight.”

He didn’t reply but you kept watching him. He moved to fully sit on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him with a grunt. You noticed that he was separating the clothes into two piles. Closer inspection brought your attention to the price tags attached to the clothes in one pile. 

You found yourself wondering where he got those clothes from but you decided not to ask. He seemed to be in a rather sour mood. 

He left the new clothes on the floor and dumped the others into the washing machine. With quick efficiency, he started the cycle and stuffed the remaining clothes back into his bag. 

You backed up to allow him to leave the laundry room. His shoulders were stiff and his posture was tense. It was a complete 180 from how you usually saw him. 

“You um...you alright?”  you finally asked when he sat down on the couch. 

He barely spared you a glance before propping his feet up on the coffee table, turning the TV on. Realizing you weren’t getting a response, you attempted to brush off the brief anger that flashed through you and instead went to the kitchen to clean everything up. 

You didn’t know why he was being so rude to you ― it’s not like you did anything to him. Deciding to just head to your bedroom to study, you shut off the kitchen light and skirted behind the couch to avoid getting in his way of the TV. 

He didn’t say a word as you disappeared down the hallway. 

As opposed to last time, his ‘work’ seemed to have not gone too well this time around. At least the last time, he was just tired and feeling lazy. 

You could still hear the TV going when you put all your stuff away and crawled into bed. 

The next morning, you awoke with a sigh. Sitting up, you stretched until you felt your joints pop.

As you wandered out of your bedroom, you heard the shower going, indicating Shinsou was still around. Not that you were expecting any different. 

You fixed a quick, simple breakfast for you and Shinsou, hearing the shower turn off as you finished. Wiping your washed hands on your pants, you made your way to the bathroom.

You only got to knock on the door once before it was yanked open. Suddenly, your mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. 

He stood there, his usual fluffy hair flattened and hanging haphazardly around his face. He wore his usual bored expression despite the fact he was standing there, dripping wet with only a towel around his waist. Immediately, you got a whiff of his body wash and shampoo, making you swallow thickly. 

Fuck, he smelled really good. You always thought so, when he sat on the couch beside you, you could always smell that delicious, musky scent of his body wash mixed with the spice of his cologne. But freshly washed with it, you were nearly salivating at the smell. 

“Um…” you swallowed thickly, tearing your gaze away from the well built muscles under those baggy clothes he always wore, “B-Breakfast is ready…”

“Okay,” he mumbled, moving to skirt around you. 

You sighed, assuming he was still in a shit mood again. Running a hand through your hair, you shook the delectable sight of him fresh out of the shower from your mind. As you went to go back to the kitchen, a large hand grappled around your wrist. 

“Hey,” he mumbled. You looked over your shoulder to see him nervously rubbing the back of his neck, a habit you’d seen numerous times before, “I’m sorry...about yesterday.”

“Huh?” you raised a brow, trying to ignore how big his hand was around your wrist. 

“I was in a shit mood and I took it out on you,” he explained, “So I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh,” you relaxed slightly and smiled, realizing he was actually in a decent mood today, “It’s okay.”

He gave you his own relieved smile, making your heart lurch in your chest at the sight. It was rare to see any other expression beyond that tired, bored look he always wore. Finally releasing his hold on your wrist, he spoke again, “Let me get dressed and I’ll come eat.”

“Alright,” you nodded, biting your lip as he turned his back to you. As he walked you could see the way the muscles flexed under the skin. 

When he finally vanished through his bedroom door, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Shaking your head you moved back to the kitchen intending to stuff your face to forget about how hot Hitoshi Shinsou really was. 

Before, you thought he was good looking. Usually dark circles were unbecoming but they looked almost at home on his face. His skin was nearly flawless and looked soft to the touch ― you’d seen the skincare products housed in his cabinet. It was expensive shit too. Seriously, what was the guy's job?

That thought had your mind wandering back to the monthly disappearances. 

The chair scraped against the floor as he came back ― wearing a baggy t-shirt and black sweats. He immediately dug in and began to eat. 

“So...I have to ask,” he paused, brows coming together in a scowl as you uttered those words.

“Don’t ask,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“I just wanted to ask...if this is a monthly thing. I’ve only been here for 2 so...I just wanted to make sure,” you clarified, watching his shoulder relax. He seemed extremely defensive over any questions related to his ‘job’, you noted. 

“Yeah. Once at the end of the month I leave for two days to work,” he answered simply, obviously avoiding giving any more information that you could feed off of. 

He was smart at least. 

The sun finally dipped below the horizon and the two of you were sitting on the couch watching TV. He had some documentary on but truthfully you weren’t paying a whole lot of attention to it. 

For some reason, your mind kept bringing you back to the sight that morning of Shinsou. As you looked at him sitting beside you, arm tossed casually over the back of the couch as he slouched with his legs spread, you found yourself admiring him. 

He had a sharp jaw and pretty lips. A look lower, your eyes landed on his hands ― long, pretty fingers with prominent veins beneath the pale skin. 

Suddenly, his sharp gaze cut from the TV to you and you found yourself locked in a gaze with him for a split second before you broke away to look at the TV once more. In your peripheral, you swear you saw a smirk crossing his face. 

But he didn’t comment and for that, you were thankful. 

You bid him goodnight and as usual, he stayed up. You began to wonder if the man even tried to sleep anymore. 

You stepped into the bathroom, warning your roommate that you were taking a shower. He shouted back a simple ‘okay’ before you shut the door. 

You stepped under the stream of water after stripping, the steam of the hot water filling the bathroom and relaxing your muscles. You tipped your head back to wet your hair, humming to yourself. 

You eyed Shinsou’s body wash sitting in the purple caddy handing on a hook on the wall. It brought you back to how nice he smelled when he was close to you. When you could feel his body warmth radiating off of him. You would look at him, his shoulders broad and his body warm and inviting. It was nearly impossible to resist the urge to cuddle yourself into his chest. 

You wondered what it would be like to lay against him, his arms wrapped around you as he softly stroked your skin. Maybe he would press a soft kiss to your forehead ― the idea alone made you melt. 

Realizing you had lost yourself in thought, you hurried to finish your shower and get to bed. 

You fell asleep with Shinsou on your mind that night. 

Shinsou’s third monthly work time finally rolled around once again. This time, you stayed up late so Shinsou had no choice but the interact before he left. You were hoping to maybe get more hints about what it is he did. 

He shut his bedroom door, hoisting his duffle bag over his shoulder with a grunt. You were surprised to see him in actual clothes ― rather nice ones as well. 

His jeans fit him perfectly and the button down shirt he wore was tucked in, showing off his lean figure. The belt buckle on his jeans indicated it was name brand and you found yourself wondering how much his job even paid. 

“I’ll be home same as usual,” he mumbled, bending down to slide his shoes on at the door. He looked so good doing just a simple task and you found your heart racing in your chest. His shoulders were accented so well by his shirt. The sleeves were rolled up halfway on his forearms and there was an expensive looking watch on one of his wrists. 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he opened the door ― suddenly finding that you didn’t want him to leave. 

“Um…” you called, making him pause in the open door, looking over his shoulder with a brow raised in question, “You...uh…” you struggled to find something to say but he waited patiently for you to form your next words, “Have a nice time...come home soon.”

Your heart thudded painfully as you watched his gaze soften, a smile forming on his lips as he nodded, “I’ll see you later, ______.”

Your ears were ringing as he shut the door, the sound of your name coming from his lips echoing in your head. You sunk down onto the couch, hand on your chest as you came to a startling realization. 

You had a crush on your roommate. 

Living with Shinsou after coming to terms that you had a crush on him was...difficult to say the least. Simple things he did that you used to pay no mind to, you now found yourself getting jittery at the sight. 

Like the way he rubbed his eyes with a fist when he woke up from a nap on the couch, a sound you could only describe as a whine coming from his throat as he sat up. 

The day your kitchen sink stopped working and he had to fix it was one you wouldn’t ever forget. He was leaning beneath the sink, in the cabinet on his back as he fiddled with some tools on the pipes. His white t-shirt became see-through as he sweat from the hard work, his biceps flexing with every movement he made. His shirt rode up a bit over his stomach, exposing his abs that moved and rippled with every movement. His sweats were riding low on his hips, exposing that delicious v-line and happy trail that vanished beneath the band.

The worst part was the way you could see everything in those gray sweatpants he wore. You were pretty sure he wasn’t wearing any underwear. 

You had to leave the room and hide in your bedroom with the window open until he finally finished fixing it. 

You definitely didn’t let your hand slide down your panties to the mental image of him that night. 

Despite living together for nearly four months, you knew close to nothing personal about Shinsou. Putting aside his weird, shady two-day job once a month, you didn’t have anything else to go off of on who he was. 

He was a quiet guy who liked documentaries, video games, and had insomnia. He really loved to eat breakfast foods and cats. Although you hadn’t been in his room even once, only had a couple peeks inside, you knew he owned some cat-themed stationary at the very least. 

Despite his cold appearance, he was actually quite kindhearted and gentle but seemed to have no desire to show it unless necessary. One time, you cut your finger while cooking and you swear you’d never seen him run faster to get a bandaid from the bathroom ― one with a cat on it, no less. 

You still remember the feeling of his hand holding yours and how close his face was as he inspected the cut. You could have leaned in and kissed him so easily then. 

And god was that tempting. 

So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize the glass you were holding in your hand slipped free until it shattered in a million pieces across the linoleum floor. You gasped, startled as you looked around for a way to escape but a single step in an area you thought was clear brought a cry from your lips as you stepped on the tiny shards. 

You heard a loud thump from the living room where he had been playing a video game before the thundering footsteps raced into the kitchen. Shinsou’s eyes were wide, like he was terrified of what he would find. 

“Don’t move,” he snapped, noting the way you leaned against the counter to take your injured foot off of the ground. He opened the storage cabinet and pulled out the broom and dust pan. 

It took only a few minutes for him to clean it up enough to get to you safely on his own bare feet. Instead of you limping your way to the living room however, you found yourself swept off your feet. 

Your heart raced so hard, you could hear it pounding in your ears. You were cradled against his chest, so warm and firm with his strong arms beneath your knees and shoulders. His heavenly scent surrounded you ― more intense than you’d even smelt it before. As you finally got a close look, you took notice of how his long lashes framed his pretty eyes. 

All too soon, you were placed on the couch and he was disappearing down the hall with quick efficiency. You were still stunned from being in his arms that you barely noticed he had returned until he was on his knees in front of you. 

Immediately, your cheeks bloomed hot with a blush. The image of him on his knees like that immediately sent your mind to a wicked place. 

Luckily your dirty mind was stopped in its tracks when he began pulling glass from your foot.

You gasped in pain, attempting to pull away on reflex but he held strong, sharp gaze burning holes into you.

“Sit still,” he growled, sending a shiver down your spine. 

His voice was so low, so commanding that you found yourself immediately doing what he said. You always were weak to a dominant man. 

Soon enough, your foot was cleaned and he deemed that the bleeding had stopped.

“It’ll probably hurt like hell for a little while when you walk on it,” he warned, packing the first aid away. 

“Thanks Hitoshi,” you smiled, earning a soft nod of acknowledgement from the man. 

The memory of being in his arms, even for that brief moment, was imprinted in your mind. As you laid in bed, you thought about it. It made your stomach flutter in excitement as you fell asleep. 

The fourth monthly job for Shinsou came and unfortunately, you missed him leaving. You had stayed up studying and as a result fell asleep earlier than usual. When you woke up he was already gone and you were left with a painful throb in your heart. 

You missed him. 

As you lazed on the couch, you found your mind wandering to him again. Like always. It was like your mind was cursed. 

You wondered if he thought about you at all. The idea made you feel giddy and you had to bite back a smile. You felt like a silly schoolgirl with your crush ― the way he made your stomach flutter, your heart race, and your cheeks burn was getting ridiculous. It wasn’t like you could confess, he hadn’t given much of a hint that he even thought of you as a friend. Plus, you weren’t sure if you were willing to give up the killer apartment and perfect roommate gig you currently had with a foolish confession. 

You heaved a sigh, sitting up with a new idea in mind. 

A way that you could learn more about him.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the...most noble means. 

Standing outside his bedroom door, you bit your lip. It felt wrong to go into his room without permission. It wasn’t like he went into your room ― as far as you knew, who knows what he did while you were at school or working. 

The metal doorknob was cold in your palm as you turned it and pushed it open with a soft click.

You’d seen his room in quick glances before when he opened it but you’d never gotten to fully inspect it. He had a large bed that took up the most space in his room. Situated on a dresser at the end of the bed was a TV, a Playstation set up beside it. Against the opposite wall was a desk with a gaming computer setup and a red and black gaming chair pushed in neatly. 

There were a few articles of clothing littering the floor around his laundry basket and his closet was partly open to reveal his primarily monochromatic wardrobe choices. 

Walking into the bedroom, you immediately got a whiff of his cologne, making you smile at the addictive scent. You took a seat on the edge of his bed, the black comforter incredibly soft beneath your hands. 

You leaned forward and opened his nightstand drawer, finding nothing too interesting ― a picture of him standing with a smiling boy with crazy green hair, a pink-skinned girl, and a beaming red-haired guy. 

You hadn’t really given it much thought ― that he had friends. He didn’t really talk about anyone, in fact you never heard him mention anyone in his life besides his mom a few times. You did note that he texted on his phone quite a lot and sometimes you could hear him laughing and cursing from his bedroom as he played a video game. You wondered what his friends' names were, what they were like ― what it was like to be friends with Shinsou. 

What you wouldn’t give to be someone...important in his life. 

Sighing, you closed the drawer and moved to his dresser. Your own thoughts caused your heart to ache and you tried to brush it off by looking through the drawers for something interesting. 

Fortunately, you got what you wished for. 

The last drawer to the right contained a little black metal box buried beneath some clothes. You pulled it out and took a seat on the floor, pressing the button to open it. It popped open and you gaped at what you saw. 

It was filled with money. More money than you’d probably ever seen in your whole life. The bills were wrapped together with rubber bands ― there had to be thousands of dollars in even a single stack. As you pulled out the bundles, you found that there were things located beneath them. 

Jewels; all types. Diamond rings, necklaces, bracelets, ruby and emerald gems decorating them. You pulled out a ring and held it up, watching as he gleamed under the light. 

You tucked everything back inside the box and hid it back the way you found it, shutting the drawer before standing up. 

You had no idea what to think as you shut his door once again, moving to your own room. How could he have all that money hidden away like that? It was certainly shady. 

Perhaps it was counterfeit? Or maybe he stole it! 

And what about those jewels? Did he steal those too? Why were they hidden instead of sold off somewhere?

You had so many questions and absolutely no answers. 

Suddenly you were regretting going snooping in his room. 

The fifth month of living with him would have to be where things started to go downhill. 

He came home from his weekend away, tired and grumpy, just wanting a relaxing shower. However, you hadn’t realized he was home so in your tired, sleep-filled daze you stumbled to the bathroom with the urgent need to pee. 

You pushed the bathroom door open and halted in your tracks, heart stopping in your chest at the sight of shirtless Shinsou. 

He had his back to you, displaying the angry red scratch marks that raked down the pale skin of his back, making them stand out even more. He realized you were there and spun around, eyes narrowed in a glare. With his chest in view, you could see all the hickeys and bites that trailed down  his body, disappearing in the hem of his jeans that he had yet to shed.

“Get the hell out,” he snapped, ripping the door from your hand before slamming in shut in your face. 

You stared at the wood for several, long seconds, stunned. You heard the shower start and snapped out of your daze. Forgetting your once desperate need to pee, you trudged back to your  bedroom and quietly shut the door. 

You weren’t a fool ― you knew exactly what those marks meant. You crawled under the covers and found yourself wondering what kind of woman got Hitoshi Shinsou’s attention enough to get him into bed. 

And what did she have that you didn’t?

Truth be told, you couldn’t even imagine him as the type to sleep around. He wasn’t exactly sociable and he rarely seemed to go out of his way to interact even with his friends.

You could hear the shower turn off and you were suddenly reminded of the way he slammed the door in your face ― the ache from realizing he’d been with someone else only exacerbated by the knife of his shouting at you. 

You closed your eyes and attempted to sleep, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. 

The next morning, you found yourself not wanting to get out of bed. You could hear Shinsou shuffling around the house, doing god knows what. You heard him walk down the hallway, heart freezing as he stopped in front of your bedroom door. 

You closed your eyes, willing him to go away. 

Luck was not on your side, however, as he knocked thrice on your door. It was loud enough that you knew you wouldn’t be able to feign sleeping through it. 

You sighed and crawled out of bed and trudged over to the door, pulling it open just a bit to get a look at him. 

He had his head down, hand clasped around the nape of his neck with his other hand shoved in his pocket. He looked up when he heard the door open, brows drawn together as he gazed at you partially hiding behind the door. 

“I uh…” he cleared his throat, “I went out and picked us up some breakfast.”

“Oh…” you shifted on your feet awkwardly, nodding your head, “Thanks...I’ll eat later.”

You were about to close the door, desperate to escape the burning in your eyes as you remembered last night. Before it could close, however, he shoved his hand in the crack. You paused, not wanting to crush his hand in the door. You let him push it open to show more of you ― clad in shorts and an oversized t-shirt that you loved to sleep in. Thankfully the shirt was big enough that he wouldn’t be able to tell you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“I have to apologize,” he grunted, meeting your gaze, “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that last night. I was just ticked off…” he trailed off.

You bit your lip, “I uh...I didn’t know you were home...so that’s why I just...walked in…” 

He shook his head, “No I understand, really. Y-You just surprised me and I reacted. I really need to stop taking my shit out on you, I’ll work on that, really. I shouldn’t have slammed the door like that either. It was a shit night but it wasn’t your fault you didn’t know I came home.”

“I-It’s alright, Hitoshi, really,” you smiled, though it faltered a bit at the memory of those scratches and hickeys.

“I...hope you’re not hiding away in here because I upset you,” he muttered, making you frown once more.

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

He bit his lip, looking away awkwardly, “you’re usually up around 10 and it’s...getting close to noon. You don’t do that normally so...I can only think you were trying to avoid me and that’s the last thing I want. This is your home too and I never want you to feel like you can’t be comfortable here.”

You gaped at him, processing what he was telling you. First, he paid close enough attention to you that he knew what time you got up ― that thought made happiness bloom in your chest and second, that was probably the most you’d heard him say in one sitting.

“It’s okay now, Hitoshi,” you smiled, “let me get dressed and I’ll be out to eat, okay?”

He smiled, making your cheeks burn at the sight as he nodded, turning away from you to move back to the living room. You closed your door and sighed. 

It was crazy how just a simple smile from him had your heart fluttering. However, it was quickly halted by the memory that he had someone ― maybe it was a girlfriend. That made your chest ache and you bit your lip to halt those negative feelings as you stripped and changed out of your pajamas. 

You had no idea how you were going to get past the painful clench in your chest every time you looked at him now. 

Month six rolled around and nothing very interesting happened. Shinsou moved his playstation into the living room so the two of you could play some games together. It was a fun bonding experience and you got to watch the way his eyes would light up whenever he beat you. The sound of his laugh still rang in your ears and you couldn’t help but smile every time you thought back to that pretty smile of his. 

It became a weekly thing for the two of you, every Friday night you would sit down on the couch together and play into the early hours of the morning. You got to know more about Shinsou than you had ever before. 

Sometimes he would jerk his body and brush against yours, sending goosebumps across your skin. He was always so warm and inviting ― just having him near you sent your poor heart into palpitations. 

You almost forgot about what happened the previous month when he came back ― those hickeys and scratches on his back finally having been cast out of your mind. 

Your heart did ache when you bid him goodbye the night he left again, wondering if he was going to see her or not. 

The seventh month was when that already precariously balanced life came crumbling down all at once. 

Shinsou was in the shower as you played on his Playstation, sitting in front of the TV with a frown on your face. You could hear the shower running and in the back of your mind you pictured what he might look like ― water running down his flawless skin, his hands caressing. You felt an almost pitiful clench in your core at the mental image. 

Your perversions were cut short by the sharp ring of the doorbell. You paused your game and groaned as you stood up, your knees popping from being sat in the same position for too long. Unlocking the door, you pulled it open and paused. 

A woman stood on the other side of the door, a well-fitting black dress and fur coat wrapped around her shoulders. Her ears, neck, and wrists were adorned with sparkling jewelry and you could see the red bottoms of her expensive heels. She wore vibrant red lipstick across pretty, smiling lips as she acknowledged you. However, you could see the cold gleam in her eyes that made the smile all too fake. 

“Can I help you?” you asked, leaning against the door jam. 

She hummed, tucking some hair behind her ear with perfectly manicured nails, “Is Toshi here?”

“Toshi?” you raised a brow at the nickname, “He’s in the shower. What do you need?”

“Just to talk,” she replied, stepping forward like she wanted to come in. When you didn’t budge she raised a brow, “You don’t mind if I come in, right? I’m sure Toshi would love to see me.”

“Uh…” you didn’t get a chance to reply as she brushed past you, her shoes clicking on the hardwood floor as she made her way towards the living room, “Sure...come on in…” you whispered sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you shut the door. 

You could hear the shower was turned off, indicating Shinsou would be returning in a minute. You looked at the woman as she glanced around the apartment, feeling a sting of jealousy burning within you. 

Was she the girl he was dating?

“So...how do you know Hitoshi?” you asked, making her smile. 

“I’m his girlfriend, of course!” she beamed, voice far too peppy for your liking.

The words sent an arrow through your heart and you looked away with a hum, ignoring the need to flee to your room and cry into the pillow like a stupid middle schooler. 

As if on cue, the bathroom door opened and Shinsou strolled down the hall, towling his hair as he moved. 

Any other time you would have drooled over the sight of a shirtless Shinsou, gym shorts hanging loose on his hips as he walked.

“Uh...Hitoshi…” you mumbled, getting his attention. 

He looked up from beneath his towel, meeting your gaze before his eyes moved to the woman beside you. Immediately his eyes went wide and he stood up straight. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped, startling you with how aggressive those words came out. 

The girl didn’t seem too affected, merely pouting as she spoke, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You have no business being here,” he growled, jerking his head to the door, “Get out.”

“No!” she argued, walking right up to him, “I deserve answers before you throw me away like trash, Hitoshi!”

“I don’t owe you anything,” he replied coldly, breezing past both you and her to go to the kitchen. She followed him but you remained in the kitchen, listening as they argued.

“Why won’t you see me anymore?!” she cried, petulantly stomping her heeled foot. 

“Because you got too damn attached,” he spat, opening the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water before walking into the living room again. 

“Attached?!” she gasped, grabbing his arm to force him to look at her, “I have given you so much. How can you just break it off without a real reason! Come on, Toshi, just...be with me, you won’t have to work anymore.”

He tensed, glancing over at you at the mention of her job, jaw set, “Just get out, Kana.”

She looked over at you, a sly smile forming on her lips, “She doesn’t know what you do, does she? Is that why you’re avoiding this?”

He didn’t reply, simply glared at her. Kana scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “After all I spent on you, you have no right to just run away. You know I can treat you better than anyone else can, Hitoshi. You’re making a mistake.”

“I have plenty of other clients lined up, Kana,” he shot back, making her frown. He chuckled at the sign of weakness she showed, “What? Did you think you were the only one? No, sweetheart, I have plenty of girls waiting to spend even just one night with me. You’re not special. You’re certainly not the highest paying one either. There’s nothing of importance tying me to you. You have nothing special to offer. You got too attached, starting having feelings for me...you know it would never work with my job. So just leave before you get your feelings hurt.”

Both of you were stunned silent. You because you had never heard him speak so coldly and harshly to someone before ― even when he was having a bad day and accidentally took it out on you. Her because the words he spat out with such venom wrecked her pride and made her burn with anger. 

She clenched her fists and snapped her head towards you, “Best not to get close to this prick,” she warned, her voice watery with unshed tears, “A man who makes money being a sugar baby isn’t one you want to get attached too.”

With those last words, she stormed out. The slam of the door made both you and Shinsou flinch. The silence that followed was even more deafening, however. 

Shinsou cursed under his breath, running a hand through his half-dry hair.

“So...she wasn’t your girlfriend?” you asked, making him look over at you. 

He was quiet for a second before chuckling under his breath, “You learn what my job is and that's the first thing you wonder?”

“Well!” you defended yourself quickly, “She introduced herself as your girlfriend!”

He shook his head, moving around the couch to take a seat, “No, she was just...a client I spent time with for a while. She started catching feelings so I cut it off and referred her to a friend of mine. Apparently...she didn’t like that.”

“How’d she know you lived here?” you asked, sitting beside him.

He shrugged, “She could have looked through my shit at some point, I suppose.”

You hummed, not wanting to push him to reveal more than he wanted to. After all, it wasn’t even his choice to expose his line of work anyway. 

Well, at least you had answers on why he had all those expensive clothes, cash, and jewelry. It was good to know he wasn’t some type of shady thief in the end. 

“It’s...just a really bad idea to get involved with clients,” he explained suddenly, “It’s not a relationship that’s built up on anything real. Having to pay for the company of someone is not a good foundation,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair again before looking at you, “I hope you...don’t think differently of me because of my job.”

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head, “It’s not really my place to judge you, you know?”

“Thanks,” he smiled, “It’s not really something that’s as bad as people think. It gets a bad rep for having sex for money and shit but...truthfully majority of my job is just...being company to rich women. Sometimes they want to take me around to some fancy parties to show me off or go on dates because they’re lonely. Sex isn’t the majority of what I do. I mean...I will but...it’s not the most common occurrence.”

Once again, the vision of those hickeys and sex-scratches crossed your mind and you found yourself wondering what kind of woman gave him those. At least you could be assured he wasn’t going out to see his girlfriend when he went to work ― they were strictly clients.

Which meant...he was probably single. 

Your heart stuttered in your chest at the hopeful idea. 

“How about I order some take out?” you asked, standing up to retrieve your phone. 

“Get some pizza,” he called as you disappeared down the hall. 

After his occupation was revealed to you, things began to look up. He became more open and carefree around you ― as he no longer had a big secret to hide. He didn’t really talk about his work but he wasn’t hiding it from you either. 

You decided not to ask too many questions, knowing you’d only burn up in jealousy at the idea. You knew you didn’t really have a right to be jealous since you weren’t his girlfriend or anything but you couldn’t help it either. 

The peaceful feeling didn’t last long, however. Once the fire started burning, it had no other choice but to rage. 

“You should really just tell him, _____!” your friend, Uraraka whined, head against the table.

“It’s seriously painful,” Momo agreed, “All this pining is making me sick.”

“Oh real nice,” you rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your coffee. 

It felt nice to hang around with your friends for once ― it wasn’t something you frequently got the opportunity to do. 

Just as Uraraka was about to open her mouth and reply, a looming shadow dropped over the table. You all looked over to find the familiar blonde hair and wide grin.

“Kaminari,” you greeted with a smile.

“Hey _____,” he waved before tucking his hands in his pockets, “Listen, I’ve been wanting to ask for a while but...would you like to go out with me sometime?”

The question left you stunned. 

You weren’t super close to Denki Kaminari, you shared a few general studies classes. He was a goofy, excitable guy who always seemed to know how to light up a room. Everyone around him was always in a good mood, in general he was just a very positive person. 

Not just that but he wasn’t too bad to look at either; with his pretty, wide eyes and sharp jawline. The black lightning bolt streak through his hair just made him look even more charming. 

But you hesitated, your mind drifting to Shinsou. 

Sighing, you bit your lip, “Can I get back to you on that?”

He smiled, nodding his head, obviously relieved you didn’t tell him a flat out no, “No problem. I’ll see you later!”

Once he was gone, a sharp smack landed on your back making you cry out.

“Why didn’t you give him an answer?!” Momo cried.

“Denki’s a great guy, _____! You should do it!” Uraraka added.

You shrugged, “It’s just…”

“If you’re holding out hoping something will miraculously happen with stupid Shinsou, it’s a stupid idea,” Momo said, making you pout that she had read you so easily.

“Just tell him how you feel, _____,” Uraraka sighed, “If he rejects you, you can accept Denki’s date!”

You sighed but didn’t reply. Your two friends shared a look before changing the topic, drawing the attention away from your hopeless crush on your roommate. 

When you got home, you were filled with a sense of urgency. Shinsou wasn’t in the living room so you went to his bedroom, knocking a few times on the door before he opened it. 

“Hey,” he greeted, a tired smile on his face, “Welcome home.”

“Hitoshi,” you swallowed thickly, steeling yourself.

He frowned, “What is it?”

“I need to talk to you,” you breathed.

“Okay,” he stepped aside, waving you into his room.

You hesitated for a second, realizing that there would be no turning back once you walked inside. The door shutting behind you echoed in your head. He moved past you to take a seat on his computer chair. The screen was lit up behind him, indicating he had probably been playing something before you interrupted. 

“I’m all ears,” he said softly, relaxing back in his seat.

“I…” you shifted on your feet, biting your lip, “I got asked out on a date.”

He raised his brow, cocking his head to the side. Part of you had hoped you would see some hint of jealousy from him at your words but his face remained as steely as ever.

“And...you want advice or something?” he chuckled.

You shook your head, “I want to know if…” you took in a deep breath, “If you like me before I accept him.”

He was silent for what felt like an eternity, just staring at you. Shinsou was always the type of man to think before he spoke, running through all possibilities before opening his mouth. His throat moved as he swallowed, a soft sigh coming from his nose.

“You...have a crush on me, or something?” he asked, making you deflate slightly.

“Yes,” you admitted, “And...if you don’t like me back then I’ll accept this boy’s date. There’s no reason for me to wait around and hope you’ll like me back when I could be out meeting someone new.”

He nodded his head, quieting once more. You watched as he stood up, taking a few steps towards you, “_____…” you heart clenched at his tone, knowing what was coming, “My job...it doesn’t leave me room for personal relationships.”

Despite how much you prepared yourself for it, hearing him reject you hurt. You nodded, forcing yourself not to cry as you backed up towards the door.

“Alright then,” you gave him a tight-lipped smile, turning your back to him, “I guess I’ll accept Kaminari’s date then.”

As you walked out his door, you didn’t see the pained look in his eyes. Your name lingered on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t dare speak out. The click of his door was deafening in his ears and when you were gone he sighed, hanging his head as he sat on the edge of his bed, feeling like an idiot. 

The next day, you hunted down Kaminari, telling him you’d love to go out on a date with him. He was thrilled, going off excitedly about how he couldn’t believe you actually accepted him and that he would make it the best date ever. 

And truth be told, the date was a blast. You had told him you’d never been to laser tag before and immediately he said that was exactly what you do then. The sound of Denki’s laughter still echoed in your ears as he lost to you, accusing you of cheating in a lighthearted tone. 

You didn’t see much of Shinsou after you started seeing Kaminari. Although it was casual, you spent a good bit of time hanging out with him ― he began eating with you, Uraraka, and Momo on campus and the two of you texted often. 

It seemed that Shinsou wasn’t making a big effort to hang out with you anyway. As much as that hurt, you knew it was for the best. It spared you a lot of hurt and him of the awkwardness of living with a girl who had a crush on him. 

It was fair enough, you mused. 

But when you laid in bed at night, your phone on silent and the faint sound of Shinsou’s voice floating through the walls as he gamed with his friends, you felt the now familiar tug on your heart. You longed to be with him. 

But you knew it was pointless now. 

You’d been seeing Kaminari for a month when he showed up on your doorstep to pick you up. Usually you would leave and meet him but due to the rain, he opted to pick you up and save you both from the hassle. 

You were in your room, putting the final touches on your makeup when the doorbell rang. Before you could react, you heard Shinsou open the door. 

You quickly grabbed your purse, tossing the strap over your shoulder as you opened your door. You could hear their voices carrying down the hallway.

“Holy shit!” Kaminari laughed, “What a small world ― it’s been a while Hitoshi!”

“Denki,” Shinsou greeted curtly. 

“You ______’s roommate?” Kaminari asked, tucking his hands in his pockets as he waited for you, “She’s talked about you a bit. Didn’t know it was you, though, man!”

“Denki―” Shinsou was about to say something more but was cut off by your entrance.

“Hey there babydoll!” Kaminari greeted with a grin, holding his hand out for you to take, “See you later, Hitoshi!”

Shinsou didn’t respond as he watched the two of you leave, his jaw set tight as he held himself back from calling out. 

-

You felt like you’d never been more angry in your life as you stormed home. Things had been going so well between you and Kaminari, you felt like you could genuinely start to like him. You enjoyed his company and began to think less and less about one purple haired roommate of yours. 

You slammed the front door, startling poor Shinsou on the couch. He turned around, eyes wide at the blazing anger visible on your face.

“What the hell is your problem, Shinsou?!” you cried, kicking your shoes off and tossing your backpack to the floor.

“Huh?” he raised a brow dumbly, only fanning the flames of your rage. 

“You…” you heaved, fists clenched, “Who do you think you are?! Telling Denki to break it off with me?!”

Realization quickly flashed over his face and he groaned, standing up, “I didn’t tell him to break up with you!” he argued. You opened your mouth to retort but he put his hand up to stop you, “I just told him to think it over. Do you know how we know each other, ____?”

“No,” you shook your head, tossing your hands up, “What does it matter? You still have no right to interfere in my relationship!”

“He’s in the same line of work I am!” he snapped, rounding the couch, “He does the same exact thing I do.”

You paused, letting the information sink in, “Why does that matter?”

He shook his head, “Do you really want to be with a guy who spends his nights in bed with women, _____? That’s not exactly the easiest job to trust a man with.”

You didn’t have a retort, “I thought...the majority of the job was just being a companion.”

Shinsou sighed, taking a seat once more, “It really depends on the guy. Denki is pretty popular because he loves to get his dick wet.”

You thought those words would make you feel jealous. The idea of the guy you were seeing fucking other women should make you feel something but instead...you felt almost relieved. Still, it didn’t simmer the anger you felt towards Shinsou at putting his nose in your business.

“You should have come to me and told me your concerns, Shinsou,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him, “Instead of going behind my back for me to be dumped.”

“You’re right,” he admitted, biting his lip, “I just...wanted to see if Denki was still the same as he was when I last knew him. It’s just how it happened. I am sorry.”

Sensing his apology was sincere, you relaxed and nodded, “I’ve got to study.”

With that, you hid away in your room. 

You couldn’t deny you still felt a bit ticked off with him but at least you were able to move past it. You realized you weren’t truly attached to Kaminari, you were just using him to shove your feelings for Shinsou away ― a pretty dick move on your part. So you were relieved to be out of the relationship.

Unfortunately, this left you with Shinsou once more. Where he once was pushed from your mind for the most part, he now resumed plaguing your thoughts. 

You couldn’t deny how tired you were. 

It was emotionally exhausting feeling your heart race at the mere sight of him only for it to ache when you remembered there was no chance in hell he’d even give you the time of day. 

Things reached a head when he returned from work. Eleven months in and all the negative feelings and tension finally culminated. 

“Hey Shinsou,” you called, finding him leaning against the kitchen island with a cereal bar in his hands. 

He looked over his shoulder, an unusually cold look in his eyes as he regarded you, “What?”

You tried not to flinch at the tone, frowning, “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” he snapped and you sighed, realizing he was in one of his moods, “What do you want?”

“I...nevermind,” you shrugged, “We’ll talk when you’re in a better mood.”

You hadn’t meant for it to be something to piss him off further. You truly meant that you would wait until he felt better to talk. For some reason, however, he took it wrong.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” he growled, pushing himself off of the counter to storm up to you.

“Nothing!” you defended, “I don’t want to get into anything with you, okay?”

“If you have something to say then just say it!” he snapped, making you shake your head.

“No!” you argued, turning on your heel to storm into your bedroom. 

Before you could get very far, however, a tight hand was wrapped around your elbow, pulling you back.

“Don’t fucking run from me!” his tone sent shivers down your spine, the angry fire burning in his eyes finally snapping something inside you.

“I am so fucking tired of this!” you tore your arm from his grip, not missing the frustrated grunt he gave in response, “This shit isn’t working anymore, Shinsou! You clearly don’t know what the hell to do with yourself; you come home from working and you’re in a shit mood and you take it out on me. Then you act like everything is perfectly fine. You know how I feel about you, so you can’t even pretend that doesn’t have anything to do with your behavior. In fact, I know it affects you because why else would you have convinced the only guy I’ve seen in the past like two years to dump me like trash! All over this stupid fucking job of yours. I don’t want to deal with the shitty way you make me feel, Shinsou!”

“So?” he snapped, teeth bared.

“So I’m gonna fucking move out!” you threatened, standing nose to nose with him.

His eyes narrowed and he let out a humourless laugh, “Fine! The sooner the better!”

With those last words he stormed past you, slamming his bedroom door with deafening finality. 

You were left alone in the living room, fists clenched as tears you’d held back so long finally broke free. 

A stupid purple haired idiot was not worth being hurt so much over. That you were sure of. 

It’s not like he even cared, apparently. 

With that thought finally pushing you into action, you returned to your own room to begin looking for new housing. 

In all your time living with him, the longest you went without seeing him was two days. Once a month when he went to work ― that was the only length of time you didn’t see him every day. 

Now, however, the two of you were avoiding each other like the plague. You had been busting your ass finding a new apartment, going to school, and working as usual. Shinsou had been hiding in his room the majority of the time. 

You even stopped cooking. 

Part of you wondered if he even noticed. Deep down, however, you knew he probably didn’t care. 

He would just get a new roommate and go on like usual. Like you had never existed. 

At least you’d be able to get over him then. 

It took a month before you found a decent place. It was nowhere near as nice as your current one but there was nothing you could do about that. Your situation with Shinsou was unique and you knew you were never gonna have an opportunity like this again. 

You came to terms with that. 

Wandering out of your room, you were surprised to find him sitting on the couch. His nose was buried in his phone but the TV played his usual shows. 

“Hey,” you greeted, keeping your voice even. He grunted in response, not looking up, “I found a place. I’ll be out by the end of the week.”

He didn’t say anything and you sighed, feeling your eyes burn. 

How you wished he would say something to stop you ― to show you that the past year wasn’t a huge waste of time and that you really meant nothing to him. You felt you could have at least called yourselves friends but...apparently that was one sided. 

The thought hurt so you escaped to your room once again to hide. 

The night before your move, you were laying in bed playing a game on your phone. Laying on your back, you held the screen up and tapped your thumbs aggressive against the screen. Your momentum was lost by three sharp knocks on your door. You cried out as your phone fell from your hand and dropped on your face. 

“Shit,” you groaned, tossing it away and getting up from bed. 

Opening the door, your words caught in your throat at the sight of Hitoshi Shinsou’s sleepy gaze fixated on you. His hand was clasped around the nape of his neck and he was looking away nervously. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” his head snapped towards you, eyes wide before you realized how that sounded, “I-I mean I thought you were supposed to be gone! You know...to work.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly and he shrugged, “I cancelled. I...wanted...no, I needed to talk to you. Can I come in?”

You stood there for a few seconds, thinking it over before stepping aside to let him in. He gave you a tight lipped smile before you shut the door behind him. Turning to face him, you took note of the way his free hand was shoved into his sweats pocket. The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. 

“What...what did you need?” you asked, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

He remained standing, obviously thinking over his words carefully. His back was to you, his figure hunched slightly in his usual posture. But you couldn’t miss the tension his form held. 

“I never intended this to become a long-term thing,” for a moment you thought he was talking about your living arrangement but before you could refute, he was turning to you, “This sugar baby thing, that is. I had a friend who did it and made some good money from it and eventually I got into the scene and realized just how good it could pay. It’s been like 2 or 3 years now since I’ve been at it.”

He dropped his hand from around his neck, beginning to pace around your room to gaze at your various knick-knacks. He paused at the few boxes you had packed up already, a frown marring his face.

“I make even more money by selling the presents I get. Sometimes the clients will give me jewelry or clothes, I always sell them,” he sighed, picking up a snow globe that sat atop your dresser, shaking it mindlessly to watch the fake snow float around the glass. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked softly.

“The truth is, I hate the majority of my job,” he confessed, ignoring your question, “Most of the people are pretentious assholes who think they’re better than me because they pay me. I don’t mind being arm candy, it doesn’t really bother me. And not gonna lie sometimes the sex is bomb,” he chuckled almost lifelessly and you ignored the pang in your chest at his words, “But the position I’m in forces me to basically do whatever they want me to. Naturally, I have limits and shit but if they want to dominate me I let them and that sucks.”

“Hitoshi,” you grumbled, making him look at you, “Why are you telling me about your sexual preferences?”

“Oh right…” he shook his head, “I hate doing it because I don’t have much control in my life because of it,” he looked at you with fierce eyes, “That’s why...I want to say fuck it.”

Before you could respond, he was walking up to you, cupping your cheek in a warm hand. Your eyes were wide, staring up at him as he moved close to you, his lips brushing yours. 

“It’s been so fucking painful letting you go,” he whispered, “Having to reject you and let you go out with fucking Denki nearly broke me down, not gonna lie. I didn’t want him to hurt you, that’s why I interfered...but I also...didn’t want to let him have you when I wanted you so damn bad myself.”

Your heartbeat stuttered as you stared up at him, wide eyed, “D-Does that mean you…”

He nodded, “Shit, I’ve liked you for so long, _____. It’s been so hard not telling you how I feel every single day.”

“Hitoshi,” you likced your lips, reaching up to fist the front of his shirt. He hummed before you spoke again, “Please kiss me.”

There was a quick flash of his smile before his lips met yours ― every bit as soft as you expected them to be. You could faintly taste toothpaste on his lips but you didn’t mind one bit, he probably tasted the same from you. 

His hand moved from your cheek to your jaw, angling your head to deepen the kiss. Your own hands moved around his shoulders, pulling him closer. 

You quickly found yourself on your back, his hand wandering up the hem of your shirt, touching the bare skin of your stomach. You whimpered, fisting his hair as you kept him locked in a kiss. He didn’t seem to mind, simply sighing against your lips. 

You still had questions but you couldn’t bear the thought of stopping this so you tucked them into the back of your mind, devoting yourself to what was right in front of you. 

Shinsou sat up just slightly, breaking the kiss. You almost whined but the feeling of his hand creeping upwards towards your bare breast stopped you.

“Is this okay?” he asked for your consent, pausing before he actually touched you.

“Very,” you breathed, tugging him back down for another kiss. 

Immediately, he cupped your breast, thumbing your already erected nipple. You gasped into his mouth, earning an amused chuckle from him.

“Sensitive?” he asked, pecking your lips before suddenly sitting back. 

This time you did whine at the loss. He flashed you a fond smile before pushing the hem of your shirt up to your neck, revealing your chest to his greedy eyes. 

“D-Don’t just stare,” you complained, feeling your cheeks burn as he admired your body. 

“Sorry,” he replied insincerely, cupping your breast once more, “You have such pretty tits, you know? I couldn’t help it.”

You scoffed but it turned into a choked gasp as he enveloped your pert bud in his hot mouth, wet tongue lashing against it before he pulled away with a firm suck. You wrapped your hands in those soft, purple tresses and whined. His other hand came up to pinch your other nipple, making sure to give it just as much attention. 

“Toshi…” you whined, tugging his hair until he pulled away, his lips swollen. 

“What is it, baby?” he hummed, nosing at your neck to press soft kisses there.

“T-Take your shirt off,” you breathed, tugging at the hem until you were able to pull it over his head with a bit of assistance. 

Once he was as shirtless as you, your hands began to wander to touch every bit of skin you had long to for so long. He let you explore, letting out a soft sigh when you brushed over one of his hardened nipples. You didn’t linger in one place for long, quickly growing too curious at the sight of his member straining against those damn sweatpants he always wore. 

His head tipped back as you palmed him through the fabric, quickly noticing that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Eagerly, you dipped your fingers beneath the hem and pulled his cock free, your fingers not even able to touch once wrapped around. 

He was thick, a curve to his length that you just knew would hit a certain spot inside of you that would make you lose your mind. The head was a flushed red color, leaking precum that you used to give him a couple easy strokes. 

He reached down, grabbing your wrist to stop you before slipping his own hand down the hem of your shorts and panties. 

Your hips bucked the second his fingers made contact with your folds ― already dripping wet and coating his digits generously. He gave a few soft circles to your clit, testing your sensitivity before finding the pressure that had you cunt clenching around nothing. 

You whined, grinding your hips against his touch in hopes he’d slip at least one of those long fingers into you. Thankfully, you were granted your wish and more as he easily slid his middle and ring fingers in. 

He groaned as you walls tightly clenched around him, trying to desperately pull him back in whenever he pulled them out slightly. 

“Feel good?” he breathed, already knowing the answer but craving your praise.

“So good,” you whimpered, biting your lip. He curled his fingers suddenly, nailing that sweet, spongy spot on your upper wall, “Right there!” you gasped. 

He grinned, massaging that one pleasure-point with vigor, “Yeah? Right there, kitten?”

You keened at the name, walls clenching. He groaned at the feeling, suddenly pulling his hand free from your shorts. You didn’t have time to complain before he was tugging the remaining articles down your legs to toss away. 

He moved with practice expertise, grabbing you beneath the thighs to pin them open. Your wet cunt was exposed to his all too greedy eyes. He licked his lips at the sight, making your cheeks burn. 

Before you knew it, he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, tugging you down just a bit so your ass was almost hanging off the edge. The position left you completely at his mercy. He knew it too. 

You watched with bated breath as he spread your folds open ― revealing the shiny, pink hole that continuously dripped your arousal. It clenched beneath his leering gaze and he groaned. 

“Fuck!” you squealed when he dove forward to wrap his lips around your hardened clit. 

He hummed at your taste, sending vibrations through the little bud. He quickly abandoned that in favor of getting a full taste of your juices. Tonguing your entrance, he reveled in how tight you were around his tongue. 

You reached down, tanging your fingers in his hair as he ate you with all he had. His tongue worked expertly to circle your clit before dipping back down to your hole once again. 

“Please, put your fingers in,” you begged, desperate to be filled. 

He quickly obliged, slipping two long digits into your clenched pussy before mouthing over your clit eagerly. He could already feel you clenching sporadically around him and he couldn’t resist setting a quick pace, hammering against your sweet spot with every movement. 

Your muscles were taught as you felt that glorious high building up. Soft pleas left your lips as your back arched. 

“Gonna cum, kitten?” he tasted, flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Y-Yeah!” you sobbed, abandoning your hold on his hair to tear at your blankets ― not wanting to hurt him in your throes of pleasure. 

“Cum then,” the casual way he said those words flicked a switch and you were cumming. 

He groaned through your high, feeling your cunt spasm around him. He felt your cum gush from around his digits, soaking them as you clit throbbed beneath the pad of his tongue. Once your body began to relax, he pulled away. 

Your thighs slammed shut once he was out of the way, your muscles trembling through the intense aftershocks. While you were coming down, he stripped himself of his sweats, popping his cum-soaked fingers into his mouth with a groan as he fisted his cock to the sight of you trembling. 

The fact he made you cum so hard was a boost to his ego and he didn’t bother fighting the prideful grin on his face. Sweat coated your skin and made your hair stick to your neck. 

After several seconds, he climbed onto the bed and maneuvered you so your head was in the pillows. You bit your lip and grinned slyly at him as he climbed onto the bed. 

“Shit uh…” he looked around your room quickly, a frown on his lips. You looked up at him curiously before he explained, “Condom?”

You bit your lip and shook your head, “D-Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh?” he gaped down at you.

You shrugged, “I’m on the pill and well...I’m sure you use condoms with you...job, right?”

“Always,” he blinked.

“Then…” you wiggled your hips at him with a cheeky grin. 

He chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. Reaching between the two of you, he gripped his cock and tapped the head of it against your folds. Your thighs jumped as he slapped lightly against your sensitive clit. 

Finally, he began to press into you and your mouth fell open at the delicious stretch his cock gave you. He clenched his teeth, letting you soft groans as he sunk more of his length into you. Your walls gripped him so tightly, spasming and clenching as he was fully seated within you. 

The two of you had to pause before continuing, the feeling of him filling you up too much. His cock was thick, making you feel like he was stuffing you full. 

“Please,” you begged, fisting the pillows on either side of your head as he sat back on his heels. 

Gazing between your thighs, he nearly lost it at the sight of your cunt stretched tight to accommodate him. He thumbed over your clit, receiving a sharp cry from your lips. 

“Fuck...you’re so fucking tight,” he growled, circling his hips against yours with a groan, “I can feel you clenching so tight around me. Bet you wanna cum again, huh?”

“Yes!” you cried quickly, mouth agape as he gave a sudden thrust, “Please make me cum!”

He shushed you, rubbing his thumbs over your hips, “Don’t worry, kitten, I got you...I’ll get you there.”

Before you could respond, he was setting an almost brutal pace. You always imagined what Shinsou would be like in bed ― you pictured it too many times at night. Sometimes you imagined he would take it slow with deep, intense thrusts. Other times you’d picture exactly this; rough, harsh thrusts that you were sure were going to leave you sore when the morning came. 

You had no complaints though. 

Hitoshi gripped you beneath your knees, pinning your legs to your chest as he fucked you. Your cunt gushed around him, making lewd, wet noises reverberate around the room and mingle with your mixed moans. He let out groans of pleasure, strands of purple hair sticking to his forehead. 

You couldn’t help but admire the sight of him ― muscles rippling and moving with the force of his thrusts. Reaching up, you pulled him closer against you, dragging your nails across his shoulder blades. 

He winced but you felt his cock twitch at the pinch of pain inflicted as a result. You thought back to what you saw that one night ― the marks some random woman left on his body. Suddenly, you were overcome with the need to mark him as yours. 

Catching him by surprise, you managed to flip him over, straddling his waist, using his strong chest as leverage to fuck yourself on his thick cock. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper, almost hitting your cervix every time you sunk down on him. He gripped your hips, assisting your movements as he tossed his head back into the pillows. 

“Shit, that’s it, kitten,” he praised, reaching up to pinch one of your nipples.

You keened at the praise, leaning down to deliver a sharp bite against his shoulder, sucking at the skin until a bright red mark bloomed. You eyed it proudly, biting your lip as you ground against his cock, making sure your clit got the attention it needed. 

Shinsou bucked into you, making you whine as he started a steady pace of bouncing. Your thighs burned but it was worth the sight of having him beneath you. The way he stared up at you, as if you were a goddess made your heart race. 

“Toshi…” you whined, leaning back to steady yourself on his thighs as he started to thrust up into you. 

“What is it, babygirl?” he grunted, gripping your hips tightly as he fucked his thick cock into your gushing cunt. 

“Make me cum, please!” you begged, biting your lip. 

He grinned, bringing his thumb to his lips to lick the pad of it, “I got you, baby.”

Before you could think of a response, he was circling his thumb around your clit, the bud desperate for attention. Your body tensed with just a few quick circles of his thumb, his cock angled against your g-spot so perfectly that you immediately reached your high. 

Through your own cries of pleasure, you heard him moaning alongside you before he froze, his cock buried deep inside you as he came. His cock throbbed and pulsed with every jet of hot cum he released into your clenching walls. 

All at once, things stilled. You both relaxed against each other. His cock was still stuffed inside you, softening as his cum leaked out around him to make a mess between the two of you. You laid your head against his chest, his large hand cupping the back of it, pressing soft kisses against your forehead until your heartbeats finally slowed to a reasonable pace. 

“Let’s take a bath, baby,” he groaned as he sat up, keeping you secure in his lap.

You were surprised he could carry you so easily after he nearly fucked the very life out of you. 

Soon enough, you found yourself surrounded by sweet-smelling water with a fucked-out Shinsou cuddling against your back.

“Not to...ruin this afterglow bliss,” you hummed, leaning back against him as the warm water ripped around you, “But what brought this confession on suddenly? I thought you said your job doesn’t allow room for relationships.”

He was quiet for several, long seconds before he leaned forward to press a kiss to your shoulder, “I didn’t think it was fair to let myself be with you when I was going out once a month to hang around with a bunch of women. It isn’t something I want to put you through.”

“So you’re going to quit?” you asked. 

He nodded, “I probably won’t be able to make enough money to keep this place but...if it means I can have you without feeling like shit about hurting you, then yeah. It’ll be worth it, I’m sure.”

“Why don’t you just…” you bit your lip, pausing.

“What?” you questioned, gripping your chin to make you look at him, “Talk to me.”

You hummed, “Just stop with the sex and kissing stuff...just be arm candy, like you said. Hang out with them. They’ll still pay for that, right?”

He raised a brow, shifting so he could look better at your face, “You’d be okay with me going to hang out with a bunch of women who want nothing more than to sit on my dick?”

“Well…” you cleared your throat, your cheeks burning, “As long as only I get to sit on your dick then it’ll be fine. I trust you, Hitoshi.”

He was quiet once again before a smile fell across his lips, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips, “We’ll talk more about it later. Let’s just relax.”

He tucked you against his chest, leaning back against the porcelain of the tub. With his fingers caressing across your skin, you allowed yourself to drift off ― finally wrapped up in those damn arms you dreamed of.

[redpandaramblings]

The Art of Blind Dates. Deku x GN! Reader

This piece was written for @rat-zuki 's the deku agenda escapes no one collab. Happy Birthday to our favorite broccoli.

Content warning- This fic rated PG-13. Aged up characters, Allusions to sexual activity, swearing, gender neutral reader.

“You know, we really have to stop meeting like this.”

You jumped, the spray can you had been using left an unsightly streak of bright red across your masterpiece. You scowled behind your mask as you turned to face the man who had spoken.

“We do. You keep making me mess up my hard work!”

You smirked, pleased with yourself as you saw Deku, the number one pro hero, recoil at the sight of your mask. It had taken a few weeks to convert the All Might mask into an ahegao face, but it was worth it if it horrified your number one pain in the ass. Izuku blinked a few times, sighing and bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was clearly choosing to ignore your choice of disguise.

“I wouldn’t have to mess with your work if you chose to do things that were, you know, actually legal? You’re talented, Brushstroke. You could get paid to do murals or something instead of…” Deku gestured towards your latest creation. You were rather proud of it. It had taken a good amount of planning to manage to paint a fifty foot tall mural of pro hero Dynamight mooning the city with the bold caption ‘The Hero Commision can kiss my ass.’ It would be perfect if not for the red streak from where Deku had startled you. With a contemplative hum you shook your spray can and quickly turned the offending mark into a cartoonish lipstick print. Midoriya sighed heavily. “I’m standing right here, you know.”

“I know.” You grinned behind your mask. The voice distorter you used did nothing to hide your chipper tone. “I also know you like it. And you can’t tell me Dynamight wouldn’t love it. He literally said that on live interview!”

“Yes, but not with his pants down to his knees.”

You bent over, throwing your cans of spray paint and climbing gear into your duffle bag. It wouldn’t do for your nemesis to get his hands on some of the tools you used. Mei’s stamp was all over it.

“Which is such a shame. The man’s got cake for days.” You chuckled as Deku pulled a face.

He observed you, hands on his hips. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Away, obviously.” You said as you threw the strap of your dufflebag across you.

“And I’m just going to let you go?”

“Oh no. You’re going to chase me like you always do. And I’m going to escape like I always do. And it’s going to drive you crazy because you can’t figure out how I keep doing it.” You began stretching, exaggerating each movement.

“A teleportation quirk isn’t that hard to figure out.” Izuku began stretching as well, rolling his shoulders and popping joints.

“Guess again.” You sing songed, bouncing on your toes.

“Wouldn’t have to guess if you just told me.”

“But that’s no fun. Unfortunately, I do have to be going. Catch you later, hot stuff!” And with a sprint, you raced to the side of the building and jumped off before activating your quirk.

Time slowed around you. It was like you were hovering in the air instead of falling. Freeze Frame was a quirk you had learned to perfect over the years. Between the quirk and the assorted gadgets in your bag and on your person, it was definitely enough to baffle the number one pro hero. Speaking of, you better work quickly before your quirk wore off and splatted you across the sidewalk.

Freeze Frame was named after what your quirk looked like from the outside. It was as if you teleported, or you had frozen time around you for everyone except yourself. In reality, you were a speedster. When your quirk was active, you were able to move at speeds so fast you were undetectable to others, and to you it seemed like everything was paused in time. You probably could have been a phenomenal hero or villain if you wanted. But currently, it was much more fun to thwart a certain green haired man.

With a press of a button, you deployed a grappling hook, snagging it on the building across the alley. You swung over, keeping a countdown in your head. Would you be lucky enough and have time to…? Yes. There! A balcony door was cracked open slightly. You gracefully landed on the balcony and used the door to slip into what appeared to be someone’s bedroom, thankfully unoccupied at the moment. Taking no chances though, you slip into the closet just as the effects of your quirk wear off. The other reason you had never turned to heroism or villainy- no matter how much you trained, you could only keep your quirk activated for ten seconds at a time. It wasn’t a lot. Plus you could only activate your quirk a couple dozen times a day without getting seriously ill. But it still was usually more than enough to be able to give any law enforcement the slip. Just like now.

Deku curses as he runs to the edge of the roof. You’re nowhere to be seen. “Brushstroke! Get back here, you damn brat!” He shouted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. One of these days he was going to figure out your quirk and how to counteract it. And when that day comes he was going to take you over his knee and… No. He shook his head, blushing to clear his thoughts. What to do with you. Well, he wasn’t sure yet. You weren’t a villain, really. More of a public nuisance. The murals you did showed a lot of talent and a good chunk of the population agreed with the social commentary behind them. But that didn’t change that you had painted ten foot tall asscheeks on a building without permission. And, technically, it was within his job description to apprehend you. “Brushstroke!” Deku called again as he made his way down to the ground. There was no sign of you anywhere. Invisibility quirk maybe? Though it would be unusual if you could turn all the stuff you had been wearing and carrying invisible as well.

Meanwhile, as Izuku was getting lost in thought, you were getting naked. You stripped out of your gear and paint covered smock, moving as quickly as you dared while still remaining quiet in your hidden location. Just because the bedroom had been empty doesn’t mean the rest of the place was, after all. You shoved everything into your dufflebag, pulling out a clean set of clothing from a zippered pocket. Getting changed was a simple affair, as was ruffling your hair, messily getting it to look like a different style. One of your favorite tricks happened when you pushed a hidden button on the edge of your duffle bag. The previously dull gray bag quickly morphed into a loud riot of tye dyed color. Chameleon bags, Hatsume called them. Still in a prototype stage, your friend and employer would probably make a mint on them if you put them on the market. After a final brush off and deciding you looked acceptably civilian, you peeked out the closet door. The bedroom was still empty. You crept out slowly. The balcony wasn’t a feasible exit anymore. Not without the gear you had had to store away. You were going to have to sneak out the front door. You activated your quirk, feeling a little queasy at having to use it again so quickly in succession. It was simple to race through the apartment and out into the hall within your short time limit. In fact, with your speed, you were easily able to exit the entire apartment complex. You still had a few seconds to spare when you shot out the door. You grinned at seeing the number one pro hero standing in the middle of the street. You knew you shouldn’t do what you were thinking. Instead you should use your last few spare seconds to put some distance between yourself and the large, green haired man. Instead, you quickly dug around in your bag and found your tube of lipstick. You applied a nice thick coat as you waltzed up to him. With a giggle, you planted a firm smacking kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a clear and perfect lip print. With a grin, you hurried back to the apartment complex. It was easy to make it seem like you were just coming out of the door as time snapped back to its proper speed. You watched, hiding your smirk as you observed the clearly frustrated hero scanning the crowds for any sign of you. His eyes passed right over you, barely giving you a glance. You almost felt hurt that he thought your normal look was that unremarkable. But that was the point, after all. As Deku continued to call out for your pseudonym, you turned and walked away, blending into the crowd. You were almost out of earshot when you heard a loud cursing exclamation that would have been more in character for a certain blond hero. You bite your knuckle to muffle your laughter. Someone had informed Deku of the lipstick mark.

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

You sipped from a bottle of water as you watched Mei work her magic. It was strangely relaxing to watch her in her element. Though it seemed chaotic the first few times you had witnessed your friend work, there was a clear method to the madness if you just knew where to look. And you knew exactly where to look now that you had been working with her for the past three years. You were simply listed as one of her assistants. Most days that involved a random jumble of cleaning, paperwork, schedule management, and coffee making. The real reason Hatsume loved having you around however, was days like this.

“Okay! Set!” She chirped happily. “You good to go now?”

You nodded as you slid down, and walked into the testing area. “Remind me what I’m looking for again?”

“Well, obviously the usual. Make sure it’s not lethal, of course. And then I want to make sure the grid is deploying at the right time. Should be about a quarter second after detonation.”

“As long as everything looks good, want me to be full blown dummy this time?”

Hatsume tilted her head, and considered a moment before nodding. “Yeah, should be fine. Have the explosive levels where they should be. If anything messes up it’s going to be the grid deploying too soon or too late and not restraining you right.”

You gave her a thumbs up as you got into position. She counted down, though that didn’t matter much to you, honestly. One of the best perks of your quirk was that it gave you insane reflexes. You waited until the moment you saw the detonation begin to happen and activated your quirk.

As usual, it felt like time slowed to a crawl around you. Hollywood directors would give a kidney to have access to the detailed slow motion you could experience every day for free. You walked around the device, looking it over. It was meant to be a capture aid for pro hero Cellophane, a small explosive that would shoot nets of tape in all directions. It had to be safe and effective. Better to have a few civilians stuck to the walls than to risk letting a villain escape, after all. You peered into the explosion that was slowly rippling outward. Everything looked good so far… Yep, there were the grids starting to deploy. Sure that everything was safe, you deactivated your quirk and instantly were thrown backward and stuck to a padded wall of the testing room.

“Looked great!” You called as Hatsume entered the room. “I think you’ve finally got it!”

While she cheered and began praising her baby for performing so well, you tried wiggling. No luck. You were stuck rather firmly. Apparently she had upped the strength of the adhesive. After a minute, Hatsume finally noticed your struggles.

“Oh good!” She chirped. “Looks like the new formula is holding up nicely. I mean, I still need to test it out against, like strength and fire quirks, but looking good so far.”

“Little help, please?” You ask, giving her a look.

“Maybe in a bit.” She said, turning her back and leaving you there, pinned. “Want to test how long it holds. Besides, I have some questions about your last escapade and how my babies held up.”

You let out a resigned sigh. Of course. Your friend had found out about your after hours hobby about a year and a half ago. Instead of discouraging you, it hadn’t surprised you that much when she blackmailed you. She wouldn’t tell the police or heroes…. If you used some of her experimental babies on your future excursions. You had been dubious. Hatsume’s babies could be a little dangerous in the prototype stage. But it ended up working great! Your pieces went from small tagging jobs to huge fifty foot murals. Though that had caught the attention of a few public figures, including a certain green haired pain in your ass.

“I didn’t use anything directly against Deku this time.” You sighed, going limp to test if the tape would hold your weight. It did. “Grappling hook works great. The painter drones are okay for filling in large areas, but aren’t able to do clean lines well. The gecko boots continue to be amazing, but the gloves need a lot of work. The control for when they release still isn’t great.”

Hatsume nodded, quickly making notes about everything you said. There was a bit of a quick back and forth where she asked questions and you answered. Though ten minutes passed and you were still stuck to the wall. She eventually sets her notes aside and turns to face you fully. “So,” she drawls. “You saw Deku again.”

“I always see Deku nowadays!” You groan. “I swear Mei, if I find out you’re tipping him off or something...”

“Aww, come on! He’s nice! Would you rather be dealing with Dynamight?”

You frowned, not meeting her gaze. “I mean, the variety might be nice?”

“You like that with the help of my babies you’re able to out fox the number one pro hero, admit it!”

“It might be a little satisfying,” you mutter.

“And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot either! Heard you two get all flirty during chases. The tabloids loved the kiss mark, by the way. Enjoy finally kissing him?”

“Hatsume!” you groan. “Subject change, please! Anything else!”

“Anything?” she grins at you.

“Oh god, I’m going to regret this.”

“It’s not that bad, I promise! Just, would you be interested in a blind date?”

You blink. “A date?”

“Yeah! One of my friends from school has a lot of trouble meeting people organically. You know how the industry is. Ridiculous schedules, maintaining reputation, trying to make sure they like you for you and aren’t just a fan.”

“Yeah… I guess I can understand that.”

“Well, I just think you and him would be a great fit! He’s a huge nerd in a lot of the same ways you are, but a real good guy once you get past the awkward. Plus,” Hatsume dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper “I happen to know for a fact that he’s a fan of Brushstroke’s work.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “You know it’s extortion to try to get me to agree when you have me literally taped to a wall.”

“I know!” Hatsume chirped happily. “So are you going to agree? I made the adhesive pretty strong this time. Who knows how long it would take to wear off on it’s own?”

“Bitch!” You can’t help laughing. “Alright, alright, I’ll go. Just get me down from here!”

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

You fidgeted with the ring you were wearing as you stared at the building in front of you. Maybe it wasn’t too late to bail? You don’t know exactly what you had been expecting when Hatsume had told you about the somewhat shy, nerdy man she had set you up with, but you hadn’t expected him to choose the fanciest restaurant in town as your date location. You were wearing your best and still felt underdressed. Well, if the date was a disaster, at least you knew what building you were going to spray paint next. The glistening white exterior would make for a great canvas. You chuckled quietly at your own thoughts.

Squaring your shoulders, you took a deep breath and marched in. You could do this. You were an infamous tagger. You faced off against the number one pro hero regularly. Your day job was working with Hatsume. You’ve got this. With an air of newfound confidence, you gave your name to the maitre d. It was a surprise when you were led through the restaurant to one of their private curtained rooms. This guy you’d been set up with was apparently going all out. Maybe you were going to like him after all, you thought as you were ushered in. Then you looked up.

Fuck.

Standing to greet you with a stupidly flustered look on his damn stupid handsome face was your nemisis. The number one thorn in your proverbial side. The giant broccoli himself.

That BITCH had set you up with Izuku Midoriya!

You froze. In the back of your mind you were aware that your mouth was hanging open. The green haired man shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Hi,” he said quietly, scratching the back of his head.

You continued to stare.

He cleared his throat, glancing to the side. “Sorry about the secrecy, but I think it’s understandable.”

You nodded weakly.

Izuku bit his lip. You realized with a start that he might be even more nervous than you are. As much as you planned to murder Hatsume later, this wasn’t Midoriya’s fault. You could get through this date at least. Eat some expensive food, drink the best wines, make some meaningless conversation, say your goodbyes, and then go home to plot the demise of your former best friend. Long, slow painful demise. Good thing about being an artist, you had lots of traps, so clean up should be easy. Looking at the worried expression on Izuku’s face, you realize with a start that you still haven’t actually said anything to him. You open your mouth to offer some sort of generic greeting. But what comes out is-

“I’m going to fucking murder Mei!”

Izuku blinks. Blinks again. Then he starts laughing loudly. He leans one hand on the table as he cackles. You stare before starting to chuckle yourself. Soon you’re both wheezing with laughter. You both slump into your seats, trying to collect yourselves. Midoriya speaks first.

“Yeah, I… I get that. I’d think that’s a common emotion when hanging around Hatsume.”

You can’t help your smile. “Only at least half of the time. But that’s what makes it fun. No one else like her.”

“That’s for sure.” Izuku leaned back in his seat, looking you over like he’s studying you. “So, I suppose we should actually introduce ourselves. I’m Izuku Midoriya. I do hero work.”

You laugh. “Y/N Y/L/N. I work for Mei and freelance art when I can.”

“Art, huh? What kind of stuff do you do?”

You’re briefly interrupted by the arrival of the first course. After the waiter leaves, Deku apologies. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to order for you, but this is one of those places where you pay them and they tell you what you’re going to eat.”

“It’s fine.” You say as you stare at the delicate wisp of some sort of thinly shaved vegetable with a dollop of strangely colored foam on top.

“You were saying what kind of art you do?” Deku cautiously was poking at the tiny fancy appetizer.

“A few different things really, but my passion is mural work. Latest job was in a maid cafe. They wanted something cute and floral, but they let me do what I wanted within that theme.”

The night continued on and was surprisingly easy. The food was delicious, the wine was better, and you were pleasantly surprised by the company. Maybe it was the wine softening you up, but as you looked across the table where Izuku was animatedly talking about how influential All Might’s example had been for him, you admitted to yourself that the green haired man was very handsome. And funny. And interesting. And you were trying very hard not to think about the way Midoriya’s large scarred hand wrapped around the delicate wine glass. It was a surprise when the final course was finished and Izuku was quietly taking care of the bill. He escorted you out of the building and you both stood awkwardly outside. Deku cleared his throat.

“If it’s not presuming too much, I’m not quite ready for tonight to end. Is it alright if I walk you home?”

“I’d like that. Like that a lot, actually.”

He smiled at you, and it was like the sun. You walked and talked animatedly. The conversation was so easy and fun, and a little flirty. Somewhere along the way your hands brushed together and holding hands became the most natural thing in the world. Time flew by as you walked together, your true destination long forgotten. You were only brought back to reality when out of the corner of your eye you saw a massive mural of pro hero asscheeks. When Izuku saw what you were looking at, he groaned.

“Could you please not check out my friend’s ass while we’re on a date?” He joked, gently elbowing your ribs. You laughed.

“I mean, you can’t blame me. It’s hard to miss.” You made a mental note to tell Mei that her paint formula was holding up beautifully.

“It’s a little embarrassing. Brushstroke is talented and all, but every mural is a time I couldn’t catch them.”

Maybe it was the wine still buzzing through your system. Maybe it was the thrill of it. Maybe you just wanted to see those beautiful green eyes widen. But you couldn’t help the next words out of your mouth.

“Well you might have an easier time if you ever actually figured my quirk out.”

“Yeah I…” He stopped. Stared. “You…” He stared harder, pulling away slightly as he looked your figure up and down. “You!!!”

“Surprise?” You laughed, and grinned at him. He was always so handsome when he was angry. You weren’t scared at all as he hauled you close.

“Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”

“Pretty good idea, actually.”

“You’ve been leading me on goose chases for months!”

You grinned “Yes, will be our anniversary soon.”

Izuku groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waste. “You irredeemable brat!”

You would have replied, but in the next second he was fiercely smashing his mouth against yours. The kiss started harsh and desperate. The results of months of teasing and flirting. It gentled as the two of you stood there in the night, soft and sweet and full of affection the two of you had yet to put into words. The thought occurred to you that you’d have to thank Mei later. Your eyes opened as the two of you pulled away for breath. You started giggling almost immediately. Izuku pressed his forehead against yours.

“What’s so funny, darling?”

You smirked. “I never thought we’d have our first kiss while being mooned by Dynamight.”

Izuku groaned loudly before sweeping you up into his arms. You squawked and clung to him.

“That’s it.” He rumbled. “I’m going to spank you when I get you home, you fucking brat.”

“Promise?” you giggled.

You didn’t mind in the least when he shut you up with another kiss.

[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

[razorblade180-heated]

Too much

[It’s a smut]

It was a normal day at Beacon. Same old classes. Same old delicious lunches. Same old Blake. Well, not entirely. The girl had a problem, a snag if you will. She was currently on her bed in her school uniform, sulking more than she usually does. She patiently waited for the door to open. As she did, The words of Weiss Schnee replayed through her brain…

xxxxx

“YOU ARE DATING J-” The heiress’s mouth was covered quickly by Blake, who looked panicked.

“Ssssshhhh! What part of secret did you not understand!?” Blake said through her teeth, “we don’t want attention.”

Weiss swatted the hand away and whispered, “Sorry, but you should know better than to reveal truths out of the blue like that by now. This is crazier than the last one to be frank.”

Blake wasn’t too thrilled in Weiss’s choice of words in regards to White Fang secret, but now wasn’t the time to bicker. Blake needed her help. “Weiss, I’d like…advice. Also a bit of help.”

“Okay? On what exactly?” The concern in her voice was palpable.

Blake’s face grew a little red. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. “Any...any ideas to get a guy to sleep with you?”

Now it was Weiss’s turn to blush. “Just who do you-” she lowered her voice in consideration, “just who do you think I am!? Why are you coming to me for this!?”

“Yang gets too involved in people’s business and Ruby is...she’s Ruby! I love the girl but this is not the topic she can handle.”

Weiss looked Blake up and down. Why the girl needed help was beyond Weiss’s comprehension. It was shocking Blake wasn’t beating admires back with a stick! “How long have you been dating Jaune?” She asked.

“About...five months now? That sounds right.”

Weiss could not believe her ears. Five months, how has no one noticed!? How didn’t she notice? Then again, she did find it a bit out of character of Jaune when he stopped all of romantic efforts. Looks like this was the reason why. It might’ve been her ego talking but it stung a little to know a guy moved to the next letter in her team’s name. Would Yang have been next if Blake, hold on. A thought just occurred.

“Did you ask him out, or did he ask you?” Weiss was very curious about this

Blake blinked. That was an unexpected question. “Me, why”

“No reason.” Well that actually made Weiss feel a bit better. Not that she cared or anything! “Why do you need help with...that? I would think he’d be all over you. Can’t you, ya know? Drop hints?” A terrible expression hit Weiss. “Please tell me that dunce is ignoring basic signs?” She groaned. It would only make sense.

Blake must’ve agreed because she laughed a little. “Hehe, No Weiss, he isn’t.” Blake rubbed her head in embarrassment, “He’s well aware I’m down for sex. With all the neck kisses and body touches, the message is clear.” Blake saw Weiss’s face scrunch up. “What?” She said defensively.

“It’s unpleasant thinking about Jaune in anything less than his armor. You know that hoodie apparently has a rabbit on it, right?”

“Grow up, and that hoodie is fine. You walk around pretending to be taller than 4’11”

“I just like these shoes, and I’m five feet even when they’re off!” She proclaimed, “What is the matter then? Does he not find you physically- actually, don’t answer that.” Weiss didn’t need to know any physical reactions from Jaune. “Just tell me what typically happens as safely as possible.”

Blake took a deep sigh before speaking. “It’s usually the same song and dance. We go on dates, have a good time, find a place to get cozy, I start making moves, he starts building a little momentum, but then he stops.” Even with the bow on, Blake’s ears were clearly drooping. “He just apologies and says he can’t!”

Weiss raised a brow, “That’s it?”

“Yeah.” Blake nodded, “that’s the long and short of it.”

The problem sounded simple, and normal. Like… too normal. Weiss knew besides herself, Blake was the smartest on their team. Although not sociable, Blake could read a room better than Yang or Ruby. “Blake…” Weiss said, befuddled, “How is Jaune on these dates? Attitude wise, like is he nervous?”

“No, not really. We just talk and have fun. In the beginning we were both a little awkward but now we talk and act like we’ve known each other for a long time.”

Now Weiss was a little jealous at Jaune this time! Five months was all it took to get Blake chatting like an old friend!? The amount of groundwork Weiss and the terror sisters had to put in for Blake to even go out into town casually with them was at least two months' work! Now she’s over here trying to sleep with the guy, a thing nobody saw coming.

“I gotta say, this whole thing feels a little wild. To think five months of secrecy lead to this conversation? If he’s as calm you say then I can’t think of many reasons to panic. I mean I get someone having a little anxiety when giving up your first time, but I hear that’s mainly on the girl’s part. You’re all calm though.” Weiss said. She wasn’t expecting Blake’s eyes to shift away slightly, as if the girl was hiding something. “You are calm, right?”

“Huh? Yeah I’m totally calm” Blake clucked her tongue, “because...it’s not my first time.” Her body swayed back and forth out, trying to finish her sentence. “I’ve been in a couple relationships before this. Some good, some abysmal.”

Yet another surprise to add to the list. “Wait, you’re not a virgin?” Weiss couldn’t believe this. Who knew Blake surpassed her in many social and mature experiences. The way she usually was, Weiss couldn’t imagine Blake being that way. The girl once spent an entire weekend reading in the dorm room. This new information though made Weiss come to realize that she previously assumed. She just had to ask one more question. “Does Jaune know that?”

“Of course.” Blake said, feeling a little insulted. “I wouldn’t lie to him or not be open enough to talk about my past.

Weiss sighed in disbelief at her faunus friend. Perhaps her assessment of Blake reading a room well was a little off. As much as Jaune had been annoying to Weiss, she felt bad for his clearly anxious soul. “Blake, I expect this kind of cluelessness from our leader.”

Blake looked rough left and to the right as if anyone else was there to explain. “Uhhh what?” She said, actually a little stumped.

Weiss put her hands together like she was dealing with an interviewer with zero experience. “Let’s put it this way. You have asked me why your boyfriend, who is most definitely a virgin, shys away from sleeping with you? A beautiful girl who’s already had experience. Ya don’t think he’s you know, incredibly nervous of not meeting pre-established expectations? You know you’re boyfriend, Jaune Arc, the same Jaune Arc that worries about everything else in his life going well?”

Blake just...sat quietly for a moment. Her brain wasn’t even having a gears turning moment. She was upset with herself that those gears weren’t spinning from the beginning. There was nothing to figure out at all! She had simply glanced over that possibility! Her hands held her head as she let out a long groan. “Uuuuugggg What is wrong with me? Of course he fucking is. I’ve been so caught up thinking I was doing something physically wrong, or I was wrong.”

A part of that sounded like baggage. Baggage Weiss wasn’t about to unpack. “Well, question solved. Unfortunately, he’s right to worry. I can’t imagine anybody giving a good first performance. Has he even seen you fully naked?”

“We’ve sent pictures, and did a bit of touching. That second one though was always in...un-private areas, so clothes stayed on.

“Did you just tell me you two are doing things in public?” Weiss criticized. At this point, the girl known as Blake Belladonna might as well be a stranger. Weiss didn’t know this person! Her Blake was not this forward. When did they have time for any of this!? Was she not actually reading in the dorm room!!? “Also, I may not have ever slept with a woman, but I’m sure seeing their assets over a screen is less stressful than in my face.

Blake uncovered her face. “Explain Yang walking out the shower naked then?”

“That’s not stress you see, that’s envy. Next time she does it I’m turning the droplets on her into ice, and stop changing the subject!”

Blake threw her arms up, “Having a secret relationship means not having access to our dorms. That actually brings us to the favor I mentioned…”

“No, I will not give you money for a hotel.” Weiss deadpanned.

Blake’s jaw fell open. “Why not!? It doesn’t have to be a suite.”

Weiss rubbed the bridge of her knows as she thinks about her bank account. “No one carries enough cash to pay for a hotel room. Theoretically I could swipe my credit card, but then the bill is now in my purchase history. I do not need to explain in any capacity why I’m staying in a hotel. A person is bound to assume what I’m doing is exactly what you want to do. Nah uh, can’t do it.” Blake put her head down. Weiss couldn’t help but feel a little bad for her. She’s clearly been putting in the effort to sleep with Jaune, for some reason. Well he was...no no, that’s a rabbit hole that could stay closed. “How long do you need with him?” Weiss asked, committed to solving this problem for the sake of already being included.

Blake’s head popped up quickly . “Two, no, three hours. Give or take an extra half hour.”

Weiss blushes, “wh..why so long?”

“Just in case…” Blake mumbled, “Anything could happen.”

“For three hours? What are you, an animal in heat?” It didn’t even take a second for Weiss to realize how fucked up that question was. She placed her hand over Blake’s mouth as her friend's eyes were getting hostile. “Sorry! That was unrelated to anything, honest!”

Blake was kind enough to believe Weiss at her word, but still petty enough to lick the girl’s hand, making her shriek.

“Eeeiiik!!! Blake!”

“Three hours please.”

Weiss sighed, “Fine. Getting Ruby and Yang to stay out of there that long is doable. They always wanna drag me around to do things that will give me ‘culture’ as they put it. How are you gonna handle Jaune?”

“I….good question.”

Yep, definitely doesn’t read the room well. “Blake, just be easy with him. Reassuring words, all that stuff. It’s his first after all.”

Blake was surprised by the advice. “Wow, that’s really sweet of you to care about him like that.”

Weiss crosses her arms and turns away. “I’m doing this for you, not him. And for me. Jaune moping is way worse than when he’s confident. Hmph!”

xxxxx

“Come on Jaune! What’s taking so long?” Blake thought, fidgeting on her bed. A click of the door lock made her jump to her feet as it opened slowly. Jaune’s head peaked into the room, confused.

“Umm hello?”He looked to the right and saw Blake. “Oh, hey. I got your text and Weiss told me to swing by the moment I could. Everything okay?” Jaune walked in completely and shut the door. Something about this felt uncharacteristically serious. Even for Blake.

She took Jaune’s hand and guided him towards her bed to sit. “Okay, how to start this?” She sighed.

“I hope it starts with you telling me this isn’t a break up?” He said, worrying that he was in trouble. “That would be nice.”

Blake rubbed his back and smiled. “Relax, this isn’t that kind of talk. It’s actually...kinda the opposite.”

“The opposite? Like...marriage?” Jaune’s eyes widened. He wasn’t expecting that kind of conversation. “Don’t you think we’re too young for all that?”

Blake’s face turned red. The fact that’s where his mind went was actually pretty sweet. “Sex Jaune. I see how you got there, but I was referring to sex.” Blake mumbled. “Can we talk about it? We keep building up to it, but then you stop.”

His face got red. “I...it’s just…ummm” he couldn’t find the words. If Yang was here then he was sure a cat having his tongue pun would’ve been said. Jaune rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed about wimping out. Speaking only got worse when Blake took it upon herself to straddle his lap. Gods, she was too beautiful. Her eyes left him defenseless. The way her hands slowly ran up his chest and over his shoulders as the smell of lavender wafted over him. “Bl-Blake?”

“I like you.” She suddenly confessed, “I like you for who you are. The things you can do, can’t do, and never have done; I’m okay with all of it. If you’re thinking I’m ranking you to any previous experience, you’re wrong. The only experience I think about with you, is us. Our experiences.” Her right hand pulls his collar away from his neck. The urge to bite her lip is overwhelming as an urge in her core starts to burn. “Let me experience you.” She whispers. Blake leans in and begins kissing his neck. Honestly, she wanted to take things slower for his sake, but all but yearned for Jaune to touch her. So much so that it was a bit dizzying.

Jaune’s body flinched as Blake’s lips grazed his neck, nipping and licking it. “Blake…” Jaune moaned. His mind was still playing catch up, but his body was right on pace. His hands traveled up the feline’s toned legs and squeezed the round ass that rested on his lap, earning him a moan. Blake moved from his neck and captured his lips. Her hands went to his jawline to keep his face close. As if he thought about escaping.

Blake openly moaned as she felt his fingers kneed her ass like dough. She caught him by surprise when she slipped her tongue into his mouth, luring his into her own. Slowly, Blake locked her body back and forth to stir him up. The low groan he let out was a good sign she had done her job. Still, they have gotten this far before. Blake was determined to get further.

Her lips finally freed Jaune. The boy was flushed completely, catching his breath in rhythm with hers. Blake took the opportunity to remove only her blazer, then brought Jaune’s left hand away from her ass and onto her breast. Her fingers overlapped his and pressed down, making him squeeze it gently. “Touch me…” the lust in her voice flowed like a river. The way she felt Jaune’s hand quiver told her that he was still pretty anxious.

Jaune found it within himself to bring both of his hands to the top button of her shirt. A small smile on Blake’s face appeared as she closed her eyes and puffed her chest out a bit more as a sign to go ahead. “Take your time.” She said. Being patient wasn’t Blake’s strongest quality, but with Weiss’s advice in mind, she did her best to contain herself. It was funny. Jaune being nervous was actually making her heart beat faster.

Cool air hit her chest as her shirt was undone, revealing a purple lace bra. Firm hands went around her back. “I can handle the bra if you’re having tr-” a little pop noise was made as her bra strap was undone faster than her shirt. “Trouble…” she finished.

Jaune let out a sheepish chuckle. “Hehe, seven sisters, remember. I’m no stranger to how bras work. They left them everywhere.

“Jaune, you’re like a bag of tricks.” Blake smiled, “I just never know what comes next with you. That being said, I have a good idea that I'll be leading from here.” Blake let her bra fall, making Jaune gasp under his breath. Blake found his reaction to her D sized chest. His face got redder by the second as Blake brought his hands to them.

Jaune refused to speak. He’d hate to ruin the mood right now. He couldn’t believe how soft Blake felt. The way his fingers pressed against her as he massaged each boob. His pointer fingers grazed over her pale, pink nipples made the girl settle more into his lap.

“Mmmm~” Blake moaned, biting her lip from the touch. Jaune took it as a sign to keep going. A wise choice. Blake once again started to buck her hips against what had to be Jaune’s rock hard erection. Even with clothes on, it’s heat reached Blake’s equally hot core. Blake’s hands got busy. She scooted back a bit for them to have enough room to unbuckle Jaune’s pants. Her fingers traced along his lower stomach before dipping below the waistband and wrapping the throbbing erection. Blake leaned forward to capture his tongue yet again as he groaned from the feeling of her nimble fingers stroking his down.

Blake managed to pull his length up and out of his pants completely. She scooted forward again and rubbed his exposed cock against her wet panties. Her clit ground against the shaft. Blake mewled lustfully from Jaune squeezing her breast harder than before. Blake felt her tongue get drawn in and sucked on lightly. Someone was getting excited. The hot precum that ran down her hands only made it easier for Blake to pump faster.

Jaune couldn’t contain his groans and grunts. His hands gripped Blake’s ass again to hold her close. His kiss with her was broken by her going to kiss and bite his neck. “Blake…”

“Sshhh” Blake whispered, “cum for me.” If it wasn’t for her underwear, Jaune’s cock would be sliding up and down her soaked folds right now. The tip pressed against her clit and sent a shiver through Blake’s body that made her grind harder against it. She could tell Jaune was at the end of his rope. His hands gripped her even tighter as Jaune’s throbbing length finally let out a thick white seed that painted Blake’s moist thighs and panties. Blake smiled seductively as she slowed down the roll of her hips, letting him ride out his pleasure and wring out whatever remained inside.

“Blake!” Jaune hissed from the pleasure. Her hands pressed against his rising chest, making him lean back until his forearms had to support his body. Blake dismounted him to stand up for a moment then raised the sides of her soiled skirt, giving Jaune a clear view of the mess he made on the girl.

“Someone’s healthy.” Blake teased, “I wasn’t expecting so much.” Blake’s face became a deep red. Imagining the thought of this load inside her made her weak in all the right ways.

The sight of his and Blake’s arousal slowly trailing down her well toned legs was enough to leave anyone speechless. It didn’t help that her black panties were damp enough to outline the entrance to what Jaune would know to be a very intense experience. And as bad as he wanted it, Jaune couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed by his performance. “Not to kill the mood or sound ungrateful, but cumming alone is a bit… ehhh” was the best way he could describe himself.

Blake playfully rolled her eyes. Boys will be boys. “Well it’s not like we’re finished yet. Besides I literally told you cum. Rest assured I’ll get my moment a bliss before the end of this. Just have a bit of confidence. We’re still foreplaying.”

“I’m not an expert on this but is foreplay always this intense? I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard.” He admitted.

“It varies. Honestly...” Blake looked down at Jaune’s semi-flaccid dick. She slowly walked closer to the bed. Her hand tugged on Jaune’s slacks, prompting him to scoot down a bit more until Blake felt he was close enough. The young woman pulled a bit harder to pull his pants down and of the way of getting ruined. All why never taking her eyes off of him or is cum covered length. “....I like watching how good I make you feel.” She purred, getting excited again.

Jaune has no response to such a confession. Nor could he say anything as she bent over to grab his dick. Just her touching it was enough to make him grow. To get points even further across, Blake’s golden eyes looked right into his eyes as she made him tremble from placing her tongue at the base and lick up; agonizingly slow and deliberate too.

Blake took her time swirling around Jaune to collect the remnants of his load before taking him into her mouth for real. Jaune’s body tensed immediately and hand instinctively went to her head to brace himself as she bobbed up and down. His fingers wrapped around strains of hair, tugging them. Blake purred again with him down her throat and began watching him squirm.

“Blake!” He gasped. The girl only sped. Each time she went lower and lower while her tongue stroked the underside of his shaft. Before Jaune knew it, he was fully erect again and felt like he could cum again if she continued. “Blake! T-Timeout!” He yelled.

Blake gladly stopped. She had proved her point, gotten him hard again, and was pleasantly surprised to learn Jaune wasn’t that bitter in the slightest. Maybe it was his natural scent or something but Blake could see herself getting a bit too into sucking him off. That taste lingered on her and made her body burn up. “Need a break?”

“Not really.” He fibbed, knowing full well a girl who just went down him could probably tell just how into that experience he was. “I just… If I’m coming twice, I’d rather you get some action too.”

“Oh, okay.” Blake’s heart fluttered a bit. He really wanted her to feel good with him. “Then, let’s skip to the fun part.” Blake removed her panties that really should’ve removed earlier, along with the skirt.

Jaune marveled at his beautiful girlfriend who stood before him. Yeah they had sent pictures and sure she’s been topless for several minutes now, but it felt different once everything came off. Her long, beautiful legs went on each side of him, letting him have a full view of a wanting velvet core that hovered above his cock. A thin line of Blake’s arousal made both of teens blush as it dripped onto him. Jaune took his right thumb and pressed against her entrance, rubbing it slowly and watching how it coated his thumb.

“Mmmm~” Blake let out a breath that shook with excitement. Her chest began to rise and fall more distinctly and her back arched ever so slightly as she closed her eyes. “Please don’t fucking team me too long.” She moaned, nudging her hips to gain more friction.

Jaune was mesmerized by the way she acted. He sunk his thumb into her just to watch her crane her neck up and moan again. If he wasn’t excited before, he was now. “You’re so fucking wet…” pushing further in to feel her walls tighten. He kept a slow rhythm when pulling out, just to push right back in.

Blake bit her lip. Her hands ran up his shirt to expose his chest. She had to remember to thank

Pyrrha for putting Jaune through such rigorous training. He was well on his way to being the huntsman he so dearly dreamed of. It was funny but the more Blake thought it about, the more she realized what made her so drawn to him. Even when Jaune lacked experience, he set his sights high. Sure they could be a little too high at times, but you know what? There was something great about that. “I thought I told you not to tease me? I want you to give it to me.” Blake purred. She mustered the resolve to pry Jaune’s hand from her body and took hold of something much bigger and lively. “Ready for a ride? Just relax and let me lead okay?”

Jaune nodded. He watched Blake lower herself without a second thought. His hips instinctively bucked up as he felt the indescribable pleasure of wet, heated walls pulled him in tightly, refusing to let go. Jaune closed his eyes and gripped her waist.

“Feeling good?” Blake shuddered. The feeling of Jaune rubbing her insides so deep made her want to move immediately. Blake put her hands against Jaune’s chest and began rocking her hips. The grip Jaune had on her tightened. A low groan strained from his throat. Blake leaned forward until her breast pressed against him. “It gets better.” Her knees started feeling weak as raised her hips, having Jaune’s dick slid out until the tip remained. Blake then dropped her hips down, slamming his cock back inside of her. Again and again she did that, picking up the speed each time until the sound of her ass smacking against his lap filled the room and rocked the bed. Blake’s body was on autopilot. The feeling of her womb being invaded and walls being grazed, shocked Blake each time Jaune’s dick spearheaded inside of her wanting pussy. “Oh fuck yes…” Blake gasped, licking and biting Jaune’s neck.

The boy was going through it right now. Never had Jaune felt this kind of heat. No amount of foreplay could prepare anybody for this. Each slight movement felt like a jolt of lightning. His mind and body were conflicted. On one hand, Jaune wanted to hold out as long as possible. Yet his hips had other plans. Jaune couldn’t stop himself from timing his movements with Blake’s, thrusting deep into her for even greater pleasure

Blake had no problem with this whatsoever. “Ahhh~ just like that!” Blake encouraged, “You’re so deep...mmmm” the heat between them only grew. Their bodies worked up a sweat and Blake found herself panting more than moaning. Letting Jaune cum once was a good idea. Not only for him to last longer for this moment, but even Blake wasn’t confident her experience would give her an edge against his stamina. High sex drive or not, Blake knew herself well. Satisfying her needs wasn’t as trying as Jaune might think. Especially when she’s topping.

Blake sat up and leaned back a bit. She braced her hands behind her back and began rocking back and forth with Jaune completely inside of her.

Jaune couldn’t take his eyes off of Blake’s body as it grinded on him. The woman’s eyes were shut tight as she focused on the pleasure, while her boobs bounced from each rock. “You’re so beautiful.” He said without thinking. The compliment was heard though, since Blake immediately started going even faster. Jaune let out another groan. He wanted her so bad. Sitting still just wasn’t his style.

Blake’s concentration was broken when she felt strong arms around her lower back. She opened her eyes to see the blonde knight sit up as well. “Jaune?” She said confused. Instead of answering her. Jaune gave her a chaste but strong kiss before his mouth went suck on one of her tits. “Jaune!” She moaned, gripped his hair. Blake arched her back as she felt him lick and suck it, while groping the other one. The assault on her body only intensified when his remaining free hand fell to her ass to squeeze it while she continued to fuck herself on his dick until her mind felt foggy. “This is...too much!” Her hand clung to him. “And you were worried!?” She asked knowing he couldn’t speak right now.

Jaune might’ve been happy by the question if he wasn’t too busy fighting off his fast approaching orgasm. It was crazy Blake was the one saying he was doing too much. Her scent, the way her body pressed against his, the sounds that escaped her beautiful lips, and the way she moved her hips. As if she was trying to milk everything out of him all at once. Every part of her wax too much yet Jaune could only want more, surrendering to the embrace of her soaked walls. Jaune gasped for air. “Blake, I….I can’t...”

Words were beyond him. All he could do was buck in between Blake’s legs.

A seductive smile grew on her face as she went faster. “That’s right, fuck me just like this….and cum. Blake leaned into his, “Hard…”

A slave to her voice, Jaune obeyed Blake’s words without fail. He could only manage several more intoxicating moments before the urge to cum was too strong to deny. Jaune held her close and kept her there; shooting ropes white inside her.

Blake felt Jaune bite down on her shoulder as he filled her deep. All the rough touches and spasms was more than enough to push her over the edge. “Shit…” she said with a shrill voice. Her arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body and Blake buried her face in the crook of neck. Blake tried resisting but her nails dug into his back as her orgasm finally hit. Every muscle in her body tensed up. Her toes curled and she could feel Jaune throbbing inside her as her body tried taking everything the boy had to give.

Neither could speak. They could only cling to each other for what felt like forever before the waves of pleasures finally subsided. Blake was the first to loosen her grip. The girl's limbs released tension and she had zero desire to move an inch. It was only when Jaune went to tilt her head up by her chin that the two looked at each other with a mix of gratification and exhaustion. Blake positioned his hand for her head to rest in, purring at the feel of his touch.

Jaune let out at chuckle. He fell backwards onto the bed with Blake following him down. The girl laid on top of him and continued purring.

“Yeah I don’t see what you were worried about.” She said, teasingly.

“Hey, when Blake Belladonna says she wants to have her way with you, panic sets in. So, good time?”

Blake flicked his forward. “You have me laying on top of you naked and purring.”

“Yeah, fair point. Phew, well that’s good. I like making you happy.”

Blake blushed as she felt his arms hold her gently. “Hmm well looks like you’ve given me a new experience after all.”

“What, cuddling after sex?”

“Mmmhmmm.” Blake hummed, “No time to cuddle when you’re you know, working in a cult. Luxuries like that don’t exist.”

Jaune smirked, “Gee, I never would’ve guessed.” Blake pinched him for that sarcastic remark. Not that it actually did anything. “Well I’m happy to be your first post sex cuddle experience. Though it’s a little risky isn’t it?”

“We have like three hours before anyone shows up. It’s fine.”

“Not exactly the issue I had in mind but good to know.”

Blake’s eyelids felt heavy. That was until the feeling of Jaune’s hands on her butt shocked her away. The feeling of him swelling inside her again made her shudder. Stamina was dangerous. “Please, fifteen minutes. We have like three hours.” She groaned. “Then I’ll have you screaming all over again.”

“Fine by me, but this time I’m getting you off at least twice. Two to one just isn’t fair. I want you just as pleased as me.”

Looking back on things, Blake mentally retracted her statement about boys and their pride. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. “I’ll hold you to that.” Blake closed her eyes and got some rest.

xxxx

“We’re back!” Yang shouted as she walked in with her two teammates. She looked over to see Blake chillin on her bed reading in her sleeping clothes. “Gee if it wasn't for your clothes then I would’ve believed you actually sat there and read the entire time. I’m surprised you haven’t finished all of your books.”

“I’m a slow reader.” Blake blatantly lied. “I did finish a couple of times, books I mean.” Her eyes looked up from the pages to see Weiss staring at her in voiceless disbelief. She wiggled her eyebrows, making Weiss turn red.

The heiress turned around and walked out the room.

“Weiss, where are you going?” Ruby asked.

The Schnee sighed and kept walking. “A place that makes sense.”

Ruby didn’t know what that meant she looked at Yang who shrugged, then to Blake who masterfully controlled her laughter. “Huh, I guess Blake reading slowly through her for a loop?”

It was impossible for Blake not to place her book over her face and smile behind it. “Never change Ruby.” She muttered, “Never change.”

[russadler]

Work Hard, Play Harder - Prologue

Russell Adler x Female OC

The mission sounds simple enough, but the devil was definitely in the details.

A/N: This is something completely new and separate from ‘A Little Death’ and NOT a Russell Adler x Bell. After coming to terms with the issues with that pairing, it was difficult to continue that fic even though I loved it as much as I did. It was devastating to do so, but I’m hoping to create something completely new and fun. I guess this is sort of similar to ‘A Little Death’ in a way but completely different at the same time. This is just the prologue, setting the scene for the fic, but let me know what you guys think <3

June 7, 1982

Langley, Virginia

She’s not entirely sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this. 

Her day starts out simple enough. Write memos, respond to emails, read and scribble in the growing stack of files on her desk. Then her department lead tells her Jason Hudson needs to see her and from then on things get very interesting, very fast. 

The brunette makes her way to the briefing room with haste, lithe legs carrying her at the fastest pace considered appropriate in Langley’s corridors. Everyone knew Jason Hudson to be a notorious hardass, but he was a decorated one. A long list of achievements had ensured he sat at the echelon of the clandestine operations unit. 

Now he wanted her. Getting called on by Mr. Shades himself was the lifelong dream of the many that worked at Langley, but now that it’s happening the woman can’t deny the sense of apprehension at the prospect. She had worked minor roles under the direction of other handlers in a few of the smaller ops he’s overseen over the years, but felt she had done nothing then to warrant his attention whatsoever. 

There’s little time to ponder, and before long the briefing room door she’d been directed to enters her field of vision. Shoulders squared and breathing deeply through her nose, knuckles meet the worn wood in delicate but firm raps. A deep voice beckons her forth, and she enters. 

Hudson stands at the far end of the table, one hand in his pocket and the other sifting through a stack of papers currently occupying the surface in front of him. 

“Agent Fletcher.” He greets flatly, not even sparing her a glance as he focuses his gaze on the aforementioned sheets of paper.

“Sir.” She returns, thankful that she’s managed to keep the nervous tremble from her voice and replace it with something pleasant and airy instead. Taking a seat, her delicate hands flatten her pressed slacks as she moves. Her selected chair is close, but maintains a respectable enough distance from her superior.  

“Are you familiar with the name Anthony Lipovetsky, agent?” Hudson cuts to the chase, starting as soon as she’s settled. His cold stare shifts to acknowledge her presence, and a chill comes over her as she stares into those signature reflective shades.

They both knew the answer to his question. Aria Fletcher worked mainly in the drug and contraband trafficking sector of the CIA. 

Of course she knew who he was. 

Anthony Lipovetsky had steadily become a pain in the DEA’s ass recently, according to what she had been hearing. Though he wasn’t anyone particularly prolific that warranted the CIA’s attention like some others had. Out of the many individuals Hudson could have pulled her here to ask about, the Russian - American was the least expected.

“Drug trafficker making some big moves along the east coast, but he’s not the biggest fish in the pond.” Aria answers, sounding matter of fact as she stares back at the other. It’s more of a question of a statement. Why him? 

“You’re right. He isn’t, but it’s recently come to our attention that he’s been dabbling into arms smuggling.” Hudson counters, but it still isn’t the answer she’s looking for. 

“Unsurprising. He’s not the first and certainly won’t be the last.” The younger states, but there’s more to this and she knows it. She takes a gamble and makes an educated guess. “Would I be correct in guessing we’re here right now because of his choice in clientele?” 

The female agent can only hope Hudson doesn’t think she’s trying to be a smartass, but all she can do is speculate. It’s the only reasonable assumption that comes to mind seeing as the The CIA doesn’t like it very much when people sell guns to the bad guys, and they especially don’t like it if they’re the type of bad guys who like terrorism. 

“Precisely.” Hudson answers, and the agent has to fight the urge to smile. Right on the ball.

“We have solid intel that he’s been in contact with a soviet agent named Perseus.” The elder continues even seriously, voice grim as he makes the acknowledgment.

Oh. Oh. 

The name Perseus wasn’t one she was familiar with, but the words Soviet Agent had stood out. This was bigger than the domestic drug trade, this was the Soviet Union making way into their backyard. 

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

“So, what’s the plan?” The young woman queries, a touch hesitant at what role she has to play in something that now seems entirely out of her league. 

Hudson’s mouth parts, but a knock at the door interrupts. Her head snaps towards the door as Hudson grants entrance, and in walks Russell Adler. 

Langley legend, ‘America’s Monster’ The man’s in a different league even when compared to a heavyweight like Hudson. He’s pretty much a myth. She’s heard the stories about him, both personal and professional. His portfolio of work is way above her pay grade, and his presence immediately makes the entire thing immensely more interesting. 

She rode an elevator with him once, almost a year back. The encounter was barely a minute long, but she never forgot how devastatingly attractive the man was, with looks that easily could have landed him in Hollywood. Not to mention the way the man carried himself, assertive and with an undeniable dominance. 

Adler doesn’t introduce himself, and doesn’t even spare her a glance nor a word as he takes the seat adjacent to Hudson. His shaded eyes are focused straight ahead as he pulls a cigarette from the pack he seemingly carried in, perching the stick between his lips and igniting it with a zippo lighter that had appeared from God knows where. 

Aria hadn’t realized she had been staring until Hudson tosses something at her from his place at the table, the sound jolting her back to attention. A manila folder glides quietly across the stained wood to land neatly in front of her, only two words on the front.

Operation Ocelot. 

“Let’s get started.” Hudson announces. She opens the file, and things begin to unravel. 

——————————————————————

As it turns out, Operation Ocelot consists of a covert insertion of two agents into Anthony Lipovetsky’s Miami home. That part sounds simple enough, but the devil is definitely in the details.

For the time being, it was prudent Lipovetsky’s connection to Perseus remained intact. They needed a paper trail to follow, and one they could follow without arousing Lipovetsky’s suspicion. There was no real point in spying on someone if they knew they were being spied on.

“The target is well guarded, the man has a price on his head and he’s well aware. Armed security teams around the clock, cameras around the house, the whole package.” Hudson states, slides on the projector screen behind him changing to show a floorplan of the house. 

“Is this where I come in?” Aria questions, it’s easy to assume that’s the only reason why she’s here. 

It seems they’ve selected her to be the honeypot, an unfortunate consequence of being at the very least a mildly attractive woman in the CIA. Sexuality had proven to be man’s greatest weakness time and time again, and it become just a part of the job. She knew if it was something she didn’t want to do, she could easily say no. But then again, she had killed many people in her time as an agent, and one had quickly learned how to detach emotions from entire aspects of life as necessary. 

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment, but she swears she sees Hudson and Adler share a look before the former answers her. “It’s where you and Adler come in.” 

Adler in the meanwhile, hasn’t spoken throughout the entire thing. He hadn’t even looked at her yet, his sightline having been maintained firmly on the projector screen ahead as Hudson led the briefing. The end of his cigarette had burned red in the darkness as he took steady pulls from it throughout, the only sign of life in an otherwise detached and glacial man. 

And now, Russell Adler is looking at her. Dark aviators like twin blackholes that threaten to swallow her whole. 

At this point the young agent is visibly confused, as demonstrated by Hudson moving to clarify the statement. “Through our surveillance program we’ve been able to observe the targets' routines and behaviours, and it has been noted that Lipovetsky has a particular…habit.” 

“He wants a threesome?” Aria blurts, now fiddling with the gold chain on her neck. 

This whole thing just got really fucking weird. 

Hudson’s mouth parts, likely looking for a way to word the whole thing professionally, but to her utter surprise Adler is the one who decides to cut to the chase. 

“He likes taking home married couples.” He states bluntly, nonchalant as he focuses on crushing the charred stub of his cigarette in the ashtray in front of him. 

It’s the first time she’s ever heard Adler speak, his voice low and warm. Though it’s not the sort of warmth one would typically associate with kindness, but rather it brings to mind the heat of a fire and danger. There’s a roughness there too, likely from his smoking, but oh how well does it suit him.

“Oh. Well, that’s…interesting.” Aria huffs with a laugh, feeling honestly a bit relieved. There were definitely weirder things in the world that people were into that she feared. Instead, her body tingles with interest. Married couple. 

“Why me then? This isn’t necessarily my normal line of work.” The woman questions. They could have chosen anyone, but they had chosen her. Hundreds of beautiful women worked here everyday but they somehow settled on her? 

“You both make an…attractive pair. You fit the bill in terms of the target’s preferences, as well the vacation demographic in the city.” Hudson says, arms crossed at his chest. “Apart from that, you’ve so far had an impressive field career, your performance is consistent and high quality.” 

The female agent can’t help the pride that burns in her chest at the praise from such a distinguished and highly respected man like Jason Hudson. Everything suddenly felt like a dream. 

“There’s a lot to lose here, we need more than a pretty face. You’ve got what we need.” Hudson emphasizes, the importance of this mission heavily ingrained to the back of her mind. 

“So…I’m going to play Adler’s pretty little trophy wife and then we’re going to collectively seduce our way into his house?” Aria wonders aloud, Adler and Hudson not moving to interrupt and permitting her speculation to continue. “And then what? Are we expected to fuck the information out of him?” 

Hudson sighs, pinching at his brow in exasperation. Adler jumps in once more, saving Hudson from further embarrassment. “We’re gonna slip him a sedative before things get to that. Special cocktail that’ll make him think he just drank a little too much.”

“Oh, thank god.” The youngest utters under her breath, relieved. Things were definitely easier that way.

“Once he’s out, we’ll mess with the camera system, do recon, collect intel, then get the fuck out.” Adler finishes, intense stare levelled right at her once more. She couldn’t help but squirm, he was almost too much to handle just by existing.

And God, she could listen to that voice all day. She was going to listen to it all day in a short matter of time.

She really loved her job sometimes.

“Sounds simple enough.” Aria resigns, casual as she accepted that her life was just really going to be this outlandish for the next little while. 

“You and Adler will set out the day before and go through the motions and leave a paper trail of your own. The target might try and track you both down just to check his bases.” Hudson adds, arms crossed as he switches his gaze back and forth between her and Adler. 

“If we leave evidence that we’re just a normal couple doing normal things, it’ll reassure the target there wasn’t any outside involvement and we weren’t up to no good.” Aria finishes, one arm perched on the armrest of her chair and the other fiddling with her pen as she returns Hudson’s gaze. 

“Precisely.” Hudson agrees, voice carrying the smallest hint of sympathy. 

It’s almost like he feels bad for her. 

Hudson dismisses them soon after, handing them directives on the particulars of their individual roles and aliases. Adler storms ahead of her to the exit, moving out without so much as acknowledging her once again.

He was an asshole, but a ridiculously good looking one. She would learn to play his game soon enough, and oh, she would press his buttons.

Hudson is quick to catch her disgruntled reaction at Adler’s behaviour. “Adler’s not the most personable, but he’s a damn good agent. He’ll have your back.” The elder reassures, perhaps seeking to soothe the burn of the other’s abrasive nature. 

The woman sighs, turning to flash Hudson a tight lipped smile. “I’ll figure him out, I’m not worried.”

She finishes packing away her items and gets ready to leave, eager to get started on the work ahead. Hudson calls her again as she reaches the door, making her pause in her tracks.

“Remember agent, don’t let me down.” 

Nodding with silent determination, she leaves.

[midnightcrusader]

tangerine sunset (1)

dazai osamu x oc

SERIES MASTERLIST

chapter one: bottled time

↳ word count: 6k

↳ spoiler warning: starts from s01e03 bits of ep04, 01&02 mentioned

↳ other warnings: cursing, smoking, su!cide jokes cuz hey! it’s Dazai after all…

↳ a/n: christmas came early this year! second chapter is going to air on Saturday (as I continue posting in my usual schema Wednesday&Saturday). if you’d like to be added to the permanent tag list and get the notification when the new chapter is up — dm me! and of course, have fun reading!!

There weren't many things Aira Razuki was biased towards; the stench of dead fishes present in the whole port city of Yokohama didn't bothered her. The overpriced coffee she tend to buy every single morning was bearable. Annoying people were just something she had to cope with.

And yet, Aira Razuki found herself in the sudden state of fury each time someone mentioned the meaning of her first name. For unbeknownst reason to her, the choice of her parents was utterly abominable. Odious, even. After all, they could have chosen a different, definitely more suitable name — Kori, per say. Aira would've much likely preferred being referred to as ice, rather than love and affection, hence that was the exact meaning of the word. Unsurprisingly, those two things were also something Aira lacked through her whole life; she was cold, insensible...

...or maybe that was only something she liked others to think of her. Maybe that was the easiest way for her not to get anyone too attached to her.

"Why do missions always get me like that," she hissed, regarding her current state of the sudden self-reflection.

Frowning once again, she entered the red brick building, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. It was a very specific habit of hers, mostly connected to the subconscious fear of being trapped in a place she couldn't possibly escape from.

Through the wooden door of her workplace, Aira could hear the sudden rumble going on inside. Knowing that it's probably her coworkers arguing, she dismissed the thought of joining the conversation, planning on getting the coffee the Armed Detective Agency was providing their employees with. Yet, she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the sight of Doppo Kunikida strangling Osamu Dazai.

"Children. Literal children," she spoke, taking off her squared sunglasses.

It was like a lighting striking the two men when they heard the familiar voice. Both of them immediately straightened up, acting like nothing particular had been happening just a moment ago.

"Oh, Razuki-chan!" the brown-haired detective called cheerfully as he saw Aira entering the room.

"What did he do?" the woman asked the other man, entirely skipping the greetings.

"Hey! Why do you assume I did something? You're so prejudiced, Razuki-chan!" he argued, childishly pouting.

"Because you always do something, Dazai," she scuffled, furrowing her brow at the sight of a face she didn't recognize. "Who's that?" She pointed at the boy sitting in one of the office's dining boots.

"I-I'm Atsushi Nakajima," he introduced himself, glancing over the woman that had just made rather a... dramatic appearance.

Her burgundy coat looked like it was almost moved by the wind when she came in. The ruffles of the collar of her shirt were adding a pinch of authority and dignity, she obviously was emanating with. Her golden hair were tied in a low bun, making her face features appear sharper than they already were. But most importantly — she was wearing pants. And something inside Atsushi was telling him that women in pants were to be feared of.

"Doesn't ring a bell," Aira spoke evasively, sitting in one of the bar seats, just beside the blonde man.

"He's the new member of the Agency," Kunikida started to explain, turning his head towards his coworker. "Dazai had found him when... Well, he was trying to drown himself," he shrugged, noticing small wrinkles appearing on Aira's face.

"Dazai or the kid?" she asked, fully curious about the person, who had been supposedly drowning.

"That's a rhetorical question, my dear," Osamu stated with a wide grin on his face, closing his eyes as he spoke.

"You should've let him be, kiddo," Aira whispered theatrically, just so everyone in the room could've hear her.

"Oh, thank you, Razuki-chan!" Dazai exclaimed, clapping his hands.

"Shut up," she frowned, realizing what she had just said.

Of course he took the suggestion of his death as a compliment, how couldn't he?

"How did the mission go?" Doppo interfered in hopes of ending the immature exchange of words the two of the fellow investigators were having.

"Lots of blood, lots of bullets. As usual," Aira answered, sipping on her coffee. "You know, sometimes I wonder when I won't walk out this alive," she laughed with a grim tone.

"But you've promised to commit double suicide with me!" Dazai argued once again, theatrically putting a hand over his heart.

"I've never promised you anything, you idiot," she sighed angrily.

"Come on, Razuki-chan!"

"Goddamnit! Which part of shut up did you not understand, Dazai?" Aira called loudly, completely loosing her temper.

It wasn't easy for someone to annoy her. Dazai, however, managed to do it every single time they spoke.

"By the way, what were you guys doing before you joined the Agency...? Uh, not real meaning behind that question," Atsushi shyly interrupted the argument, smiling innocently.

"Take a guess. It's a game we play often," Dazai answered calmly, just as Aira wasn't arguing with him a moment ago.

And just like nothing ever happened, the newbie started guessing everyone's former occupation. Firstly, he started with the Tanizaki siblings — the deduction wasn't a hard one, since the both of them looked like typical students. The first surprise struck the boy as he found out Doppo was previously a math teacher. The second, when Aira tensed up as he looked at her.

"Nah, I'm not doing that." Razuki shook her head vigorously.

"Why not?" Atsushi furrowed his brow, a look of the pure innocence painted all over his face.

"It's just... not important," she added, gripping the coffee cup a bit tighter.

But then she glanced over the boy, who was looking at her with curiosity. And something in her not entirely rotten soul caused to sigh and answer with a plain:

"Okay. Go on."

"I'd say you were a business woman," the boy continued, causing a sad smile appear on Aira's face.

"I wish."

"A fashion designer?" Atsushi took another guess.

"What makes you think that?" the woman laughed softly, perplexed by his answer.

"Your coat... it's just very... stylish?" the boy answered hesitantly.

"She failed her Med School's exam," Dazai interrupted the game, causing Aira's jaw to clench. "And then she went on picking up small jobs around town," he explained further.

"R-really? I wouldn't have guessed," Atsushi wondered.

Aira Razuki looked like a woman of success; everything about her - her appearance, the way she spoke, her aura. Every single detail made him thing of her as some sort of a higher-up.

"Okay, that's it," Aira stated firmly, not wanting to throw a fit around the new employee. "I'm going to give a report of my mission to the President," she added reluctantly, getting up from her barstool.

"Dazai, you idiot." She heard Doppo whispered angrily to the dark-haired man as she speeded off to the hallway leading to the President's office.

Of course, she wasn't planning on going there. Her report was made a day prior, just as she returned to the Agency's dorms. Her sudden exit, however, was caused by one of the most unpleasant memories she held within herself. As well as the feeling of utter disappointment towards her own self.

Leaning on the wall of the hallway, she sighed loudly. She hated herself for reacting like that every time someone brought up her former dreams.

But she couldn't act otherwise. They were ruined. And she was the one responsible for her setback.

"Hey, Aira," the soft voice of Kunikida called as he closed the door behind him. "It's okay, Dazai is just a arrogant idiot," he added, standing right in front of her.

"He is," she confirmed with a sorrowful laugh, looking directly at her boots to avoid the glance of her friend. "But he's telling the truth. I'm a goddamn failure," she whispered, hearing Doppo frown.

"We've talked about it, Aira. Numerous times," he spoke, placing a hand on her forearm. "It's the past and it doesn't define you," he continued, wanting to comfort her.

They had known each other for two years now. It was his unspoken duty to make sure she was okay. No matter how many times he needed to say those confirmations to her.

Kunikida firstly met Razuki on the day of her entrance exam on which he played a crucial role. During the first couple of months of her job at the Agency, their relationship consisted of mere greetings and small-talks. As the time went on, Doppo, Aira and Osamu became drinking buddies, what meant they had a space to talk to about their past some more. At first, the woman was resistant; she was always trying to avoid the topics of her previous life by changing the subject to her work.

And Doppo wasn't opposed to it. He understood that she probably went through a lot, hence the trauma of the past wasn't something she was keen on discussing with them. Yet her cold persona turned out to be quite shallow as she started opening up to him on the span of following year. Kunikida became not only her coworker, but also a friend on whom she could rely on. He was here for her, even if sometimes their conversation would turn out to be simply scolding each other.

But on top of that, the two of them quickly realized they were quite alike; they shared similar traits, they were loners, and most importantly — they were equally annoyed by a certain coworker of theirs.

The coworker that made Aira throw the current fit.

"But it follows me, Doppo," she mumbled, trying her best to stop her voice from shaking. "No matter what I'd do I'm just a girl, who failed her entrance exam. I'm introduced as one and I always will be!"

"Jesus Christ, woman," Kunikida murmured, rolling his eyes. "You haven't failed our entrance exam. You're hardworking, quick-witted..."

"Stop it, I don't need you to sing me praises," she scoffed, interrupting her friend's efforts to make her feel better.

"Then don't act like a toddler," he replied, causing a smirk to appear on her face.

The last thing Aira wanted was to dig up in her past. She appreciated Kunikida's efforts, yet she couldn't bring herself to fully open up to him. It wasn't because she didn't like him; to be frank it was the exact opposite - she wanted him to see her as the person she was now, not one she used to be. And so, her only option now was to play it safe - simply shrug off the situation she had found herself in.

"I won't, mom," she teased, gaining a punch in the arm from her coworker.

"You're so annoying."

"Sorry," she grinned. "A moment of weakness," she added, nonchalantly putting her hands behind her head as she walked back to the main area of the Agency's headquarters.

Leaving Doppo dumbfounded, a certain question occupied her mind — why did her missions were always making her feel the way she was feeling now? So childish, so vulnerable. And her sudden outburst of anger weren't helping her in any shape or form. In fact, they were only making the matters worse, letting the people around her know that she wasn't feeling well.

And Aira despised that feeling.

Before sitting in one of the boots, she took of her coat and asked the bartender (which also happened to be another woman Dazai notoriously flirted with) for a second coffee. It was certainly going to be a long day, and caffeine was the only thing that could have saved her from the depths of further disgrace. Peacefully sipping her brew, she sighed as she felt the weight of a very specific individual sinking into the seat next to her.

"Razuki-chaaan, I haven't made you angry, have I?"

Sighing, Aira glanced at the detective, who was desperately trying to get her attention.

"I'm having a bad day, Dazai. Leave me alone," she mumbled, putting the now-empty cup on the table.

"How could I ever leave a beautiful woman alone? After all, a lady like you certainly needs company of someone like me," he continued in a cheesy manner, making Aira sigh.

"Oh!" he exclaimed loudly as a blonde woman walked through the door of the office. "A lady like her needs company of someone like me, too!" he added hectically, quickly approaching the visitor.

Aira shook her head with a resigned smirk, taking her time to finish the coffee. It was always like that; Dazai complained about not having a woman to commit a double suicide with, which caused him to flirt with every person of the opposite sex on daily basis. Yet, Aira didn't complain - as long as he was trying to seduce anyone but her, she was going to carry on with her daily tasks. She'd learned ignoring his antics, after all Dazai was definitely not going to abandon his flirtatious persona any time soon.

Approaching the table the woman and the rest of the detectives were currently sitting at, Aira listened to Tanizaki's question, which was followed by Dazai exclamation as he kneeled in front of their customer. Noticing Kunikida twitch, she made her way to grab his hand, sending him a quick warning glance.

"He's an idiot but he's smart," she whispered quietly, watching the motion of Dazai's hands as he complimented the blonde lady.

"No, he's just an idiot," Doppo responded, and was quick to approach Osamu to punch him straight into his face. "Apologies for the disturbance," he spoke to the woman, making his way towards the computer room, opposite of the table.

"Please disregard what just happened. Continue," he added as the door behind him ad Dazai closed.

Aira only managed to roll her eyes at Osamu's muffled screams coming from the room.

"So? How may we help you?" Razuki asked, returning to the topic of the conversation.

It was just a normal day at the Agency. Nothing, comparing to her entrance exam.

~.~

Nothing ever went right in Aira Razuki's life. Firstly, she failed her Med School's exams, then her parents threw her out of the house. Next thing she knew, she was out on the streets, desperately trying to make her ends meet. With no coins in her pockets, no reassurance given, Aira found herself struggling with debt and low self-esteem.

But that was only the top of the iceberg. Her life was soon to be crushed when she discovered her parents' dead bodies during one of August's nights.

The nightmare that had been haunting her ever since that day.

But then, just as a single ray of the sun, her hopes were given back to her. After being thrown out of the flat she was renting, she met a gray-haired man, who told her he knew about what happened to her parents. He also was aware of the abilities she had. On the span of two days he offered her a job at Armed Detective Agency...

...then he went quiet for a week.

Aira cursed out her fate, her abilities, her failures. Why did another person leave her? Was she not good enough?

Strolling around Yokohama's warehouses, she lit up her cigarette after being fully consumed by self pity. She hated the thought of keeping on living like that; she had nothing. She was alone.

"Help! Please, help!" the screams of a woman interrupted her walk, making her body completely stiff.

The woman sound entirely panicked and Aira immediately knew the importance of the matter.

But was she going to help?

She believed there was no good or bad. The concepts were merely a human creation. Life went on, only to be followed by death. And after all, her life was already miserable. She didn't need to risk dying prematurely by interfering in something that wasn't supposed to involved her.

"Help!"

Her body went stiff again.

Of course she didn't need to get involved. Yet, the certain urge in her mind told her she should do something.

No.

She needed to do something.

Her live might haven’t been be worth living, but that didn't mean lives of others hadn’t. That was not how people should end their existence. They should die of old age with their close ones present. And that was exactly the thing that Aira believed in to be right.

"Yeah, sure, I guess I'll just die then. I have nothing better to do anyway," she murmured to herself, patting her jacket to see if she had brought her pocket knife with her.

Creating as little noise as she possibly could, she entered the warehouse the screams were coming from, only to see a teenage girl being held at gunpoint by a man in a beige suit.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" she yelled, stepping between the girl and the attacker.

"It's either you or her," the man spoke with a grim tone.

Aira had never imagined herself being in that situation. It was certainly the first time someone was threatening her to kill her. For her whole life she imagined she would be petrified. Unable to move. Yet, her own reaction indisputably surprised her…

She chuckled.

She could've sworn the man had just furrowed his brow. Almost like he wasn't used to the situation he had found himself in.

"How about none of us?" Aira answered with nothing but seriousness, taking out her pocket knife.

"Huh—?" the man only managed to say.

Next thing he knew Aira was standing right behind him, holding her knife to his throat. Almost like she had teleported. Little did he know it was far from it — Aira's ability allowed her to fool time, which she pleasantly decided to use.

"It's eith—," the attacker stopped himself, realizing he had already said the line he had rehearsed. "What the..?"

"Say anything more and I'll slash your throat wide open," she threatened him, her hands still on the knife.

"Hey! Hey! Stop!" Aira tilted her head at the sounds of panicked screaming of a man, who had just jumped off of one of the containers.

"That's enough, it was a test!" he explained, approaching her and the other person...

...who turned out not to be the attacker?

"What test?" Aira furrowed her brow, fully confused about what was going on.

"Does she pass?" the man in the beige suit asked, massaging his throat after having a knife next to it a moment ago.

"I mean, she didn't sacrifice herself. She was trying to kill me," he continued, his brow furrowed.

"Well, I don't know, Kunikida-kun. I think that was quite hot," the dark-haired man answered, nonchalantly shrugging.

"It's not about her being hot, you moron! I can't believe how stupid you are!" the other man shouted, shooting his hands in the air.

"Hi! I'm Naomi!" the girl that was supposedly held hostage exclaimed.

"Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?!" Aira yelled, tilting her head towards the noise that was coming from the entrance of the warehouse.

"Congratulations, Miss Razuki. You pass the exam," the gray-haired man Aira recognized from offering her a job spoke, causing everyone in the room to be quiet.

"What?"

~.~

"With two, you can! Double suicide..! Double suicide..!"

"Your taste in music terrifies me," Aira sighed, sitting opposite of Dazai, who had been singing along to the song he was listening to on his headphones.

"Ooh, I knew I'll summon you with those lyrics!" Osamu laughed, placing his cheek on the palm of his hand.

"Whatever you say," she replied, adjusting the coat she had just put on.

"So do we go on a bridge or do we just swallow some pills here?" He childishly smiled, watching her movements.

"What?" Aira furrowed her brow as she shook her head.

"You're getting dressed. It fits with my idea," he explained, waving his feet in the air.

"Lord, give me strength," she exhaled loudly, causing Dazai to chuckle. "The kids won't deal with the trap themselves," she added.

"I've always loved how clever you are," Dazai clapped his hands, beginning to stand up. "What gave it away?" he asked, putting on his own coat.

"You're a flirt… but you won't do anything inappropriate. This time you've put your hand a bit too close to her hip," she simply explained, opening the door as she waited for Dazai to follow up. "Kunikida-kun! We're leaving!" she exclaimed.

"Was it your sign from above?" Doppo called to Osamu.

"Not entirely but Razuki-chan is fair enough," he replied, holding the door that she had just opened.

"What is it? Another inside joke I'm not aware of?" Aira scuffed, watching Osamu joining her side.

"You can say that. Yes," Dazai smirked. "I have a question," he added as they found themselves on one of Yokohama's streets.

"I'm not committing—!"

"No, not that," he interrupted her, smiling softly.

"Good, 'cause I swear I'd punch you," she responded, putting on her sunglasses.

"Why are you always like that with our newbies?" he finally asked, his glance meeting Aira's expression of confusion. "If it was me or Kunikida-kun, you'll just keep on drinking your coffee... Could it be you're actually concerned, Razuki-chan?" he teased, the pitch of his tone going up.

"Shut up."

"Oh, don't be so afraid to admit your actually nice and caring," he continued, his smile widening.

"I'm not. I'm just concerned about the rookie. It's his first mission," she explained, wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible.

"Yeah, you've admitted it," Dazai murmured to himself, placing his hands behind his neck as he continued walking. "Con-cerned," he sang, separating the syllables.

"He's a child, Dazai!" Aira argued, wanting to prove her point. However, she couldn't see she was miserably failing to do so.

"He's eighteen," he corrected her nonchalantly.

"Yes. Still a child," she confirmed, taking the next turn left.

"That doesn't change anything," he chuckled, already knowing she had lost the argument.

"Look, Razuki-chan," Dazai stopped walking, placing his hands on Aira's shoulders. "Caring is better than self-pitying. You're old enough to understand that," he added, fully knowing he would only make her more angry.

"I hate you," she growled, taking his hands off of her shoulders. "I knew I should've walked alone," she murmured, resuming the walk.

"So why didn't you do it?" Dazai asked with false concern in his voice.

"Because I—," Aira stopped herself in the middle of her sentence.

She had no idea what she wanted to say. She had no idea why she actually didn't walk alone. And she had no idea why she wanted to go with Dazai.

"Because you like spending time with me. Knew it," Osamu teased, tilting his head to the side.

"Not in the slightest bit," she finally responded.

"Sure you do," he chuckled, putting his arm around her.

"I'll break it if you don't move," she threatened, trying to took of his hand from her shoulder. "Go away," she added, unable to move his arm.

"Then use your ability. It's not that hard," he smirked.

"You know I can't! It needs a minute to regenerate and I don't know when we'll need to help the kids!" she argued, only now realizing that he fully understood what he was doing.

"How sad. I guess you'll just have to accept it," he pouted, patting her arm.

Aira growled, still trying to get rid of his hand slandering her. Her efforts, however, were quickly interrupted when she heard a familiar scream.

A scream belonging to Atsushi.

With a reprimanding look she gave Dazai, he took the hand off of her, turning his head towards the location of the noise. Instead of running towards it, he just shrugged, patting the top of Aira's head.

"Don't worry, you haven't seen him fight," he said, just as nothing important was happening at that moment.

"I don't care. Let's go," she responded, making her way towards the alley the screams were coming from.

Just as spoken, Aira found herself at the spot of the fight, only to see a white tiger attacking a criminal she was familiar with — Akutagawa. Just on the span of the next few seconds, he used his strength to punch the weretiger, who Aira quickly connected to being Atsushi's ability. Blue and red aura merged together as the attacks continued, and Aira knew it was the best time to use her gift — Time-master.

Her ability allowed her to turn back time by four seconds every one minute, so it had to be used carefully in combat. As perfect as it may seemed, Time-master was suitable during fights — it allowed Aira to undo the things that were done, giving her the space of fixing her failures.

Quite poetic, when it came to her past.

As Akutagawa and Atsushi returned to their previous places, the mafia member's attacks were yet to begun again, Aira noticed Dazai sending her a smirk, just before he walked in between the two fighters, using No Longer Human.

"Okay, that's enough," he calmly spoke, separating the two of them.

As the space was filling up with light-blue beams, Aira found herself covering her face from the sharp light. Minding the fact that she was also wearing her sunglasses.

And just like that — everything went quiet. Atsushi returned to his human form, falling unconscious to the ground. The two mafia members were standing still, the woman from earlier that day shooting a confused look at Aira and Osamu.

"You're the two of the detectives..." the blonde lady wondered, the tone of her voice getting more angrier with every word she spoke. "Why are you here?"

"I'm the type who can't stop thinking about what a beautiful lady may be up to," Dazai answered nonchalantly, his hands finding their way to the pockets of his coat. "I decided to secretly listen in," he explained further, pulling out a small detective device.

"Impossible!"

"What did you expect from a Detective Agency?" Aira sighed, watching as the woman was trying to find the second part of the device in her pocket.

"You had already seen through my plans!" The woman shouted, yet both Aira and Osamu ignored her.

Dazai went to check on Atsushi, telling him to wake up because he didn't want to carry three unconscious people back, meanwhile Aira passed by the two mafia members to check the pulse of the Tanizaki siblings.

"You think we'll let you go alive?!" the woman yelled, pointing the gun at Dazai's back.

Aira only managed to shake her head as Akutagawa started chuckling under his breath.

"Don't, Higuchi. You can't win," he spoke, causing the woman to lower her gun.

He continued on saying that he and the woman, who supposedly was called Higuchi were going to retreat, he didn't fail to threat that the Port Mafia was going to recruit Atsushi. As Aira had learnt — the weretiger had a bounty on himself.

A bounty worth seven billion yen.

~.~

"You know, Razuki-chan, we should work together more often," Dazai cheerfully exclaimed, sitting beside Aira.

"I've only decided to come here because you've promised to pay for my coffee. Don't get your hopes too high up," she responded, waiting for the waitress to bring them their brews.

It was two days after the mafia incident. To be completely frank, Aira was a bit unsteady, considering the threat of the Port Mafia suggesting a possibility of war with their Agency.

She didn't fear it, however. It was just that tiny voice in her head, telling her to be prepared for something that was about to come.

And yet now, she accepted Dazai's offer to come with him to a coffee shop, only because she felt like there was something he wasn't telling her.

Or anyone in the Agency.

"Don't be so cold to me, my dear. It shatters my heart to pieces," he complained, covering his eyes with the palm of his hand.

"And Kunikida tells me I'm the one who's dramatic," she scoffed, tapping her fingers on surface of the wooden table.

"What's your biggest secret, Razuki-chan?" Dazai splattered without hesitation.

"Like I'd tell you that," she mumbled, looking out of the window.

"Come on, we're friends," he smiled childishly.

"Since when, huh?" Aira asked, toying with the frame of her sunglasses that she had previously put down on the table.

"Mean," he pouted, taking the square glasses out of her hand. "How do I look?" he asked, right after them putting on.

"Like an idiot. Give it back," she responded quickly, handing out her hand.

"No, no. I think I quite like them," Osamu smirked, tilting his head to the side.

"Dazai..." Aira murmured angrily, getting impatient with his antics.

"I'll give them back if you tell me your biggest secret," he stated firmly.

Aira shook her head, only to burry it in her hands.

"You're so annoying," she replied with resignation in her tone. "Fine," she finally agreed, exhaling loudly. "I use honey as a conditioner for my hair."

"Hey!" Dazai objected quickly, taking off the sunglasses he had stolen from her. "That's not the biggest secret I was talking about!"

"But it is my biggest secret, my dear," she replied with a devilish smirk. "I mean, how else could I keep my hair looking so flawless? You could use my tips, you know? Your hair is dry as hell," she giggled, fully knowing that this time she was the one who was teasing the other person.

"You know that's not what I meant," Osamu continued, wanting to be the one who was in charge of the situation once again.

"Yeah," Aira wondered, imitating his usual childish smirk. "Thank you," she added full of victory as she snatched her sunglasses from Dazai's hand, using the right moment.

"That's cheati—!" he interrupted himself, noticing the waitress that was bringing them their coffee. "I have finally found a reason to live!" he exclaimed, cupping the waitress' hands into his own.

"Some things never change," Aira murmured, taking a sip of her coffee.

~.~

"What the hell happened when I was out?" Aira asked loudly, taking a look at the Agency's office, which was, to say at least...

...fully destroyed.

"Black Lizard," Kunikida answered, rapidly writing something in his notebook.

"Yeah, that I've noticed," Aira sighed, glancing at the beaten up bodies of the members of the group.

"Why are you all so calm?" Atsushi asked quietly, glancing at the woman, who simply went on to pick up the drawer that had fallen.

"You'll get used to it, kiddo," she replied, placing the furniture on its place. "Hey! Ranpo! Care to help me out with that sofa?" she called out to the detective, who looked like he was best-dressed when it came to his job.

"Nope! Not really!" he answered, taking a sip out of his water bottle.

"Men these days are trash," Yosano spoke, helping Aira picking up the fallen couch.

"Thanks," Aira responded. Despite that short of a sentence, Yosano could have heard the tone of her voice being distant and cold.

It was something she took pride of. Doctor Yosano hadn't recalled the time when she was rude, or even unintentionally mean towards Aira. To be completely honest, Yosano was even nicer to her than to her other coworkers. Yet for some unbeknownst to her reason, Razuki hated her. Yosano was fully aware of that fact, yet she couldn't quite pinpoint why. Why was Aira always avoiding talking with her? Why was she always telling her how unprofessional her skills were? Why was she always leaving the room as soon as she saw her?

At first, Yosano was concerned. Then she realized that her younger coworker had been simply delusional when it came to their interactions.

What Doctor Yosano couldn't see, however, was that Aira didn't hate her for being Yosano. All in all, Aira didn't even hate her.

She was jealous of her being a doctor.

Yosano was living her dream life; she seemed to be having it all — the smarts, the brains, the title. Comparing to her, Aira was nothing but a failure.

And it was going to take some time for her to see that the titles didn't mean anything. Just as a long, hard path back to home, Aira needed to reconsider her previous choices and misfortunes only to come to terms with them.

"Why are you crying?" Kunikida's voice interrupted everyone's work.

"I... I... I'm not crying!" Atsushi objected, turning on his heel to hide his face, which, in fact, was completely covered in tears.

"Oh, that's exactly what we were lacking today," Aira sighed, approaching the two.

"Just look at you. Your so typical for your generation. Even when given a job you just go off and play without permission. You cry if anyone gives so much as a word of criticism," Kunikida stated on one breath, purposely not meeting with Aira's sharp stare.

"That's not it!" Atsushi objected. "That's not what is it about!"

And only now Aira understood Doppo's plan. By scolding him, he made the boy stop crying. Yet, did it solve the problem? Aira wasn't so sure of it.

"Hey, can I talk to him?" She grabbed Kunikida's arm. The tone of her voice was completely differing from his.

"Just don't tell him it's okay to throw fits," Doppo sighed, returning to out-planning the costs of the repairs.

"Hey, Atsushi-kun," she started, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're not worried about the criticism, are you?" she asked, her voice sounding almost motherly.

"No," he responded, wiping the tears from his face.

"You're worried that your bounty may have caused this, right?" she continued, watching him nod his head. "Then let me tell you one thing, boy. You're the part of the Agency now. And you know what we do if someone is targeting our employee?"

"You throw them out of the window?" he joked through the tears, pointing at Kenji, who had been just doing spoken thing.

"Exactly," Aira confirmed with a soft laugh. "My point is — you're safe here, Atsushi-kun. Moderately, but you are."

"I'm not worried about myself," he interrupted shyly.

Not long after his sentence, his brow furrowed as he heard Aira burst in laugh.

"Have-have I said something funny?" he wondered quietly, glancing at his feet.

"Yes... I mean, no!" Aira said through the laughter. "Have you seen us?" She pointed at the coworkers, who were busy putting the office back together. "We're like, super-strong. Not immortal, but we can defend ourselves," she added, comforting him.

Aira had the tendency of self-pitying and crying over her own failures. However, when it came to others, she didn't want them to experience the exact same things as she did.

Pity, jealousy, worry. They were just a fragments of human's imagination. She fully understood that allowing those emotions to overcome one's own self made them only focus on their more, instead of truly experiencing the life.

But Aira Razuki was also hypocritical. She wanted to prevent others from feeling those things, yet was unable to follow her own instructions.

It was just like a bottle with time, which was sealed with the heat of fear and anger. And inside this bottle there was her — drowning in her own sorrow and pity, yet seeing the world in front of her through the glass of the closed bottle. She was trapped there. Alone.

But she didn't fully realized that she needed someone from the outside to open up the bottle to let her, and all of her past free.

She had no idea that it was the only way to feel alive once again. After all, had no idea she was trapped — the glass was see-through.

She experienced life. But not how life should have been experienced.

"I'll give you another advice, Atsushi-kun," Aira smiled, pointing at Kunikida. "Don't cry near to him ever again. The only emotion he's comfortable with is anger," she added, watching a small smile appearing on Atsushi's face.

"I won't, Razuki-san," he smiled back, his tears now fully dried.

"Come on, we have to help them with cleaning," she added, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt.