#whatever might have been or not been there between those two. i think it's probably more nuanced than simple lables

[monkebearness]

Maple Spice and Everything Nice

Yamada Kaede (tripleS) x Male Reader

Tags: smut, alcohol, fingering, blowjob, daddy kink, wall and standing sex, some fluff and angst

Word count: 10.4k

After nine tedious minutes of waiting in line, four friends finally enter through the doors of hell, or heaven, depending on one’s perspective. Welcomed by the almost deafening speakers, they witness the wave of guests all over the place, most of whom may as well embody the nine inner circles of Inferno or the seven terraces of Purgatorio—although some of them will probably consider this realm their paradise for a night. Yet one of these friends does not have the same level of enthusiasm as the other three as his mind is filled with doubt and regret for setting foot in this place on this weekend night.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea to bring me here.”

“Come on, now. No need to be a party pooper, man. We promise you won’t regret this.”

“I already am, though. Besides, I don't mind being a party pooper.”

“Dude, Honggi’s not entirely wrong. Junghoon-ah, we might not get another chance to have fun in the next two weeks since people started booking reservations at the diner!”

“Well, I can’t blame customers for wanting to dine there. Isn’t that what gives us jobs in the first place? I can’t even believe you’re also going along with this, Kangmin-ah.”

“I know, I know... But think of this occasion as spending our paychecks for something new and fresh. Plus, you're the most hardworking guy between the four of us… This is your time to relax!”

“But this isn't the first place that comes to my mind when it comes to relaxation.”

“Oh, just wait until you meet someone who will change your mind,,” Honggi points his finger at him a few times. “Then you'll thank us for letting you come here!”

Autumn has arrived. Clubs were never Junghoon's style, it never has been. Ever since he’s gone on his own, he often spent his independence working from job to job across various kitchens in Seoul. But his colleagues couldn't help but insist that he tag along with them during his sixth month of working at a casual dining restaurant. And tonight, they’re inside a venue where most casual things also happen to their visitors. It’s the first time in a while that he hasn’t stayed inside home. Aside from buying groceries during weekends, going on jogs at local parks, or killing his free time on his laptop with content that’s either insightful or “brain rot-inducing,” though he tends to balance the two, more in favor of the former.

“Yeah, dude,” Insoo chimes in. “Who knows if some of us will be lucky enough to bring a chick to their place tonight? Ever thought about that benefit?”

“You should’ve definitely cleaned up your own place first if you want that to happen,” Junghoon shoots back.

“Eh,” he shrugs. “I’ll just head to their place instead and I'll make them a mess.”

“You know, words like those are why you haven’t hit off with anyone whenever we go here,” Kangmin chimes in.

“Whatever,” he grumbles. He’s had enough of his friends’ banters. “Are we just gonna stand here in the corner like a bunch of dorks or are we gonna start pushing our luck?”

Junghoon considers these given options. “I actually don't mind just standing here—”

“Come on. Get in there, man!” Honggi slowly pushes him as they both walk into the middle of the dance floor while the other two follow. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

And there he is. On the spot with the rest of the guests.

Junghoon slowly nods his head, awkwardly moving to the rhythm of the music. The less he became conscious of the crowd around him, the more he encouraged himself to keep on moving to the upbeat sound. Closing his eyes on his spot, his thoughts reassure him of an upside of clubbing, unlike what his buddies have been suggesting for the past half an hour. It’s a reminder that clubbing doesn’t have to be about flirting or mingling with others. Knowing that he may no longer want to visit a place like this the next time he’ll be invited, he gives it all. Tonight, the kitchen and restaurant are the least of his worries. It's about time he serves himself. Plus, he’s watched or played enough TikTok challenges in the background during his spare time to not be empty-handed for this hyper moment.

But after a minute has passed, Junghoon suddenly bumps into a woman in front of him with force not strong enough to be painful, yet strong enough to interrupt her movement and once unbothered mojo. Slowing down his dancing, he remains alert, with adrenaline pumping to his veins, bracing himself for any form of outburst or reaction from the very person he’s now.

“Joesonghamnida…” he speaks out—raising his voice so she can hear, knowing that he had already disrupted her ethereal spirits.

But as she turns around and meets her eyes with his, her eyes of confusion transform into disbelief, widening at the sight of the man. And just before Junghoon can bow to her in a rapid succession, he reacts similarly as the woman. “Junghoon-sunbaenim?”

“Kaede-ssi.” A smile forms on both their faces, having found familiarity amidst the neon sea of strangers. As the intensity of the music drops, both take the chance to walk to the bar counter, sitting down on the stools and offering each other drinks as an icebreaker to make up for lost time and catch up on their present in the next several minutes.

He looks at her, realizing how much her hair is shorter compared to their last encounter. As her attire looks more daring. It's a new look for her, but he can't help but admit how it suits her, at least in his mind. “You’re the last person I’d see in a place like this,” he teases, before taking a sip of the bottle of light beer she bought him.

“Feeling’s mutual,” she tuts, making him chuckle. To him, she’s more or less the same snarky, sometimes menacing, and cutesy junior he knows, just a few years older since their last encounter. Still kinda snarky, he thinks.

“Well, I didn’t go here by choice,” he clarifies, taking a glance at a distance to check on his friends at the other side of the club, grooving with faces who he has no familiarity with as the music continues to keep enchanting the larger crowd in the middle back into the dimension where electronic and techno music dominates.

“Not all of us have a choice at first,” she takes a sip of the same bottle he bought her, noticeably a much larger amount than his. “I know that sounds dramatic, but I never expected to be an occasional visitor here until my friends practically begged me. Still, there’s a sense of comfort here the longer you're here.”

“I guess that’s true,” he nods, seeing the other side of guests at the venue. Ones who are like them, simply laid back on their seats, chatting or cracking up jokes with friends or newfound companions while the rest keep on grooving. “But that being said, what are you up to these days? Don’t tell me you’re just visiting here every night.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna have fun somewhere where I’m also working. I do some work at some side gigs here and there, and I’m either a part-time coach and fitness or dance instructor on weekdays, I also do some modeling and photoshoots for quick bucks.”

“Got a lot on your plate I see,” he quips, impressed by her list of jobs, listing them as if she’s citing him her past experiences for a job application.

“Yeah, but I’m just making ends meet while I try to find a more stable job…” she groans. “You see, this is why idols are so damn lucky.”

“Couldn’t your parents have helped you with that?” he wonders, though his tone remains cautious. “But I hope you don't take it the wrong way! It's just, the last time I saw them, I remember they were probably one of the most thoughtful and protective folks out there. I’m sure helping you with jobs shouldn’t be that different.”

“It's fine,” she replies, chortling at his abrupt tone of panic. “I get it... But looking back, living here is different from Toyama. I can’t always rely on them. I get to start over and learn to mostly live making my own choices, though it’s also thanks to you and our club that adjusting in these conditions has become a little less difficult.”

“Of course, you were an amazing addition to Mad Money… You were a bit menacing at first, but I thought that was impressive. And a good thing. The girls thought the same. You even taught them a thing or two about Japanese culture.”

“Well,” she sighs. “None of my achievements back then would’ve been possible without you guys… And if I’m being honest—I always appreciate my parents’ job offers through our relatives or their associates. I'll always be touched whenever they worry about me. But I just don't wanna be their little otter anymore, you know? Not all the time.”

“Otter, huh?” Junghoon snorts, though he finds his hoobae’s sentiment to be overall heartwarming. “Mianhae. I understand what you mean. You want to find your own place in this ‘big river.’ It’s just, I can’t believe you still remember that nickname.”

“Of course,” she gloats without shame. “I embrace my spirit animal. Going through those booths at the festival were one of the first things that made my freshman year memorable, including our own. Made me realize it was worth staying here in Korea. Like another big river or sea worth setting my foot on.”

“You mean your paws?” he interposes.

“Yah!” She can’t help but laugh at his tease. “I thought we were being serious here.”

“I’m kidding!” he lets out a snicker. “Kudos to you, I suppose,” he respectfully raises his near-empty bottle with a smile. “You’re now an independent otter—I mean person. You were always one of the most capable members in the club—so now that I think about it, there is no doubt that you’re doing well now.”

She raises her bottle in response, giggling at his verbal slip up, yet hearing his honest compliments only made her smile. “You think that? How so?”

“You didn’t just prove you could do things on your own. You simply can,” he answers with a straight face, delivered with a modest tone. “You were a tough cookie, but you were also a compassionate person. You didn’t hesitate to help out others.”

Only gazing at him with a sense of comfort and perhaps adoration, Kaede doesn’t have a sarcastic remark to throw back at his statement. While some things have changed, some remain the same, even with him, she realizes. “Still got the dad energy, I see.”

“Dad ener—” he raises an eyebrow, making an embarrassed chortle leave his mouth. “Please don’t say it like that. I’m not that older than you.”

“I know, but I don’t know how else to describe it,” she shrugs. “I’ve forgotten how good you are at giving compliments… You’re that wise, perhaps a little too protective sunbae when we first met in the club.”

“I only say those things to someone if they’re true,” he retorts. “Besides, that’s all you. So at least everything we’ve done paid off, to say the least.”

“I guess so… How about you, sunbae?” Now it’s her turn to ask, resting her chin on her clasped hands. “How's our old ‘errand boy’ doing nowadays?”

“Not that different, to be honest,” he tells her. “This errand boy never really found the time to have fun at work. Kitchens tend to be busier on weekdays… So whenever we do find the time to relax, my buddies would invite me to places like this. I just happened to say ‘yes’ this time.”

“That’s exactly why I go here!” she exclaims with excitement in her voice. “Even when I’m not with my friends, blowing off some steam on my own often helps me forget the fact that having dreams isn't enough to make it from day to day.”

“I never thought of it that way,” he places his hand on his chin and rubs it for a moment. “But then again, I’ve always thought you were a great dancer since then, especially when you joined the Dragons. And even if things might not look the best right now, I'm happy that you're still doing something you’re passionate about, Kaede.”

She looks down slightly, trying to hide her reaction, as she can feel her lips forming a smile after hearing Junghoon’s compliment. “Thanks, sunbae… I’m sure you’re doing the best you can too. Not to mention, you have some thoughtful friends who still care about your social needs.”

“You don’t get those often?” he teases.

“I have too much of those from my colleagues!” she shoots back with a giggle. “That's another reason why I go here on my own. I love them, but I rarely get my ‘me times’ whenever they invite me for a get-together.”

“Well, it does feel nice to have some folks to have your back, but as someone who’s the complete opposite, I’m not judging you.” He turns to look around, scanning the areas where he last found his friends. He feels a buzzing in his pocket—receiving a message that only got sent just a minute ago. It’s official: they are nowhere to be seen, making him sigh in disappointment. He looks back to Kaede once again, who was also paying attention to where his eyes went. “Speaking of which… I wished they were still here so I could introduce you to them, but it looks like they got what they wanted, so here we are.”

“Hmm, that can be for another time… More time for ourselves to catch up. It would be disrespectful of me to just let go of a sunbae like you.”

He did not expect those words from her. “Didn’t strike you as the flirtatious type.”

“Yet you were intimidated by me,” she hums, darting her mischievous eyes at him. “Remember those times?”

“Nah, that was back then,” he defends himself as if her remark didn’t affect him. But in actuality, her words strike through him. Not because he was embarrassed by her factual teasing about him during their past, but about the way he’s starting to see her now. How she’s different from her past. How she’s no longer the soft-spoken and cutesy hoobae or an amusing force to be reckoned with that he knew. I mean, of course, she’s still cute, he corrects himself in his mind. And besides, he has long known that her reserved attitude, which others adore her for, was more of a facade or surface level impression whenever she meets new people she’s not hostile to. She can be bubbly, teasing, and energetic at times, just like she is now. But still, there is another shade of beauty from her that he never noticed, or at least appreciated before, considering his mind and heart were longing for someone else. That was a different time. This present matters more.

“I didn’t get why you weren’t popular with girls,” she brings up. “Outside Mad Money, of course. And they adored you very much! They had some of the most stunning visuals of any student on campus, and none of them were idols.”

“I can't believe you're describing yourselves like that.”

“But that's how a lot of folks saw us,” she defends her recollection.

“I know. I was kidding,” He chuckles, before letting out a nostalgic sigh. “Though, with my case, I’m pretty sure that everyone else wouldn’t be into someone like me. At least, not back then. Considering how I looked and how little of a social life I had—that was expected of me... But I didn’t mind. College for me wasn’t about dating or hook-ups.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t be all imposter syndrome on yourself.”

Such a term struck a chord in him, but he keeps himself reasonable, willing to hear the woman’s words out. “I’m not.”

“Look, sunbae. College wasn’t perfect. But I remember it not being as bad, either. Not every person was a bully, and it’s not like everyone doesn’t gain any weight during those times either! Even in our batch, I knew people who don't hold high standards anymore. I knew women who started looking for personality a lot more than looks, though it’s a plus. Some of them didn’t even want relationships ‘cause their hearts were broken by asshats—yet they ended up with folks who were keepers.”

“I understand your point,” he interjects, albeit with a polite tone.

She opens her palms. “And my point is, you had both of those. Personality and looks.”

He guffaws at her claim. “Again with your teases.”

“They're not!” she defends herself. “And if they wanted to hook-up with some stereotypical ulzzang douche, they would’ve gotten that from every fuckboy they see. You’re a keeper, Junghoon-sunbae… Any woman would’ve been lucky to be with you.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” he takes a final swig of his drink, not reacting much to her point. “But, umm, listening to your point… I can say that I feel fine with the way I am now.”

“And so do I,” she backs him up. There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, some things are better for me.”

“You didn’t enjoy your college dating life?” he asks back.

“It was fine,” she shrugs. “It was like yours, if I guess so myself. Had its ups and downs. Never lived it to the fullest, that’s for sure.”

“But you’re cute and charming. And you were kind of outgoing at times because of the Mad Money Club. That’s like a plus for you when you were meeting people back then.”

“That’s what they all said about me. Cute, adorable, soft-spoken. It’s like most of the people I dated just wanted a companion to hug or talk to, which is fine, if they would have just started making more moves than those two. And I can't even act angry when there's a reason for me to be one! I’m not some rent-a-girlfriend or a living teddy bear!”

“You’re an otter,” he interposes.

“Exactly,” she sarcastically affirms. “They couldn’t even get my spirit animal right.”

“But in all seriousness, you are beautiful, Kaede-ssi. That was their loss.”

“Now, where did those words come from?” she teases him, despite his words triggering a surge of electricity trickling throughout her body. Her mere gaze at Junghoon makes her heart start to skip its usual beat. The way she sees him feels different, at least compared to back then. Even though she knows well that the “beer goggles” effect is nothing but a bunch of baloney, perhaps the alcohol that makes her question things, now that they’ve met after college. “Was your fourth bottle making you tipsy all the sudden?”

“Not drunk, just being honest,” he shoots back. “Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“Fair enough,” she snickers. “But no thanks to you, all I find out tonight are nothing but non-stop surprises.”

“So it’s my fault now?” he questions with a smile forming on his face, surprised at her sudden jab. “You’re blaming the newcomer?”

“In a way,” she taunts even more. “And I don’t wanna miss any more surprises by just letting you leave early.”

“I like the sound of that, actually. What do you have in mind?”

“Why not go for another round?” she suggests, piquing his interest about her more.

“The same bottle?” he wonders. “I feel like you’ve already had three, but okay then.”

“Not that, sunbae,” she stops him before he could raise his hand to the bartender. The woman motions her head behind her, keeping a smug smile at him. Junghoon notices the now-less yet still crowded dance floor, a bit taken aback by her suggestion. “I was thinking we’d head back. I’d rather have fun and be a little more sober.”

“Oh, I’m not the dancing type,” he shakes his head with a humble smile, lifting his hands like he got caught. “You saw me out there. I didn't know how to hit the floor like you did. You were practically an idol!”

“You weren’t that bad,” she reassures him. “I actually think you were better than most of them. You were on the beat.” She stands up from her stool and holds his hand, sending a tingling spark of electricity through his skin. A grin forms around her lips, as her actions fascinate him more. “But this time… You're following my lead.”

Kaede slowly walks Junghoon back to the crowded dance floor, where they would bust out their moves, syncing in their expressive spirits, now that they’re grooving next to each other. The longer he tries to imitate her every style and move, or at least give his own spin to it, Kaede's facial expressions allure Junghoon. Throughout their years in college, Junghoon never saw Kaede as anything more than a hoobae and a friend. Sure, he’s only a year older than her, and they weren’t that close, but they were on good terms. Their presence gave each other comfort and a space to confide in each other whenever they met.

Yet tonight—new feelings from him arise, thanks to their reunion. Unbeknownst to him, she’s not feeling too different. In fact, Kaede may be harboring stronger feelings. Not necessarily something that gives her butterflies on her stomach. Rather, more of a physical one. She never brought it up when they’re talking, but his physique has caught her attention, she wouldn’t have noticed it was him, if it wasn’t for his face. His breath just tempts her to get closer.

“Looking better, sunbae,” she shouts to him while her body sways. “Keep it up!”

As minutes go by, mixes and tunes of songs he’s familiar with play through the speakers.

Balkkeuchi ajjilhage Eodiro hyanghadeunji Sunsuhan sangsang geu kkeut neomeoe Deryeodajweo glassy~~

What you waiting for? ige tarakimyeon we fall fall fall What you looking for? weonhandamyeon now we fall we fall we fall

nasseon ikkeullimeul majuhan sungan mweonga dalla I won’t let you out of my sight jom deo ppajyeodeulge do me right

Mmmm I can melt an igloo Yeah cause I’m so dang hot~~

He has little to no clue how to dance any of the songs' choreo but he can only find them pleasant tunes to dance to. And now that he's with a familiar face, Junghoon feels more comfortable. The playlist has, more or less, a pattern as the DJ must’ve intended it—but the pair are too immersed to notice.

They keep dancing to the tune until there’s only a few inches of space between them, practically grinding on each other's bodies on the dance floor as their rhythm syncs in with the rhythm of the sensual and upbeat music. Her hands slowly direct him to wrap his hands around her petite and well-toned body, smoothly sliding down through her curves until they reach her hips. Junghoon’s slow and gentle touch electrifies the woman, sending sparks within, especially on her more sensitive regions that makes her let out a soft moan amidst of cacophony of thunderous speakers and passionate cheers in the club, making herself bite her lower lip in to muffle whatever else unforeseen and obscene noise that was about to leave her mouth in front of the everyone else.

Their eyes meet as everything around them slows down. They can feel each of their own heartbeats, getting louder as the roaring speakers that surround the place. Despite their five-centimeter difference, Kaede’s sudden jolts of pleasure urge her to rest her arms on his shoulders. Junghoon leans in closer, allowing her to entangle them around his neck.

Looking into each other’s eyes from a few inches, no words come out from either of their mouths, knowing how vain it would be to mutter a sound in a sea of dissonance. Unlike him, there’s virtually no sense of hesitation from Kaede—only curiosity and longing for what’s in front of her while she breathes heavily in his sight. She closes her eyes as her lips touch his for a moment, before parting to anticipate his reaction. For a few seconds, Junghoon becomes paralyzed by her sudden advances, yet feels his senses stimulated at the same moment. Her flavored lipstick oddly tastes like maple syrup. Even as their lips have already parted, her intoxicating breath still lingers. He feels a sense of hunger for her. His senses and his impulses can no longer lie to him. Through every reaction he feels, his mind and body screams at him. He wants her, here and now.

This time, he leans closer to Kaede, letting out a moan as they slowly have a taste of each other’s mouths, exploring a gustatory spectrum of bitter, sweet, sour, salty, and savory, which they both relish while embracing under the neon lights, not giving a single care about everyone and everything else around them, despite their ears catching cheerful whistles beside them, considering how they take pleasure in this irresistible excitement with their soft lips smacking each other in a tight embrace. Their heated moment on the dance floor would last for a minute until the DJ plays another mix, though for them, it is only the beginning.

The restroom was their next destination. Sloppily locking lips and battling each other’s tongues inside a stall. Despite the insatiable sensation they’ve been savoring in the past five minutes, they decide to catch their breaths—leaving a string of saliva—as their lips part. And yet, he’s not done. He leans down on the woman, playfully kissing her neck and holding her waist with his right hand, triggering a rousing stimulus that reaches down her crotch. Acting more on her ecstatic urges, she kisses him while holding his hand and guiding it down her crotch. Juices were leaking through her pants, but he got her memo. Tempted to explore her pants, he digs two fingers deeper, though the fabric is not thin enough for him to traverse into her regions.

“You can reach inside,” she murmurs under her breath, tingling at his alluring touches.

He nods, before cautiously pulling down her pants until his hand finally reaches her clit, which he begins to rub from side to side, before massaging it for a moment just to check her reaction. “Ugh… Fuck, that’s it.”

His index and middle fingers finally do their trick by making swirling motions inside her cunt, tickling and stimulating the woman at the same time while he places her neck once again. She tries to muffle her moans by biting her lower lip, but he adds another trick by finally inserting a finger inside her entrance—slipping into her opening with ease thanks to it being coated in her juices. Her continuous positive murmurs encourage him to keep on going as the middle finger follows inside, igniting a louder moan from her. Now, both fingers slowly make their way deep inside her cunt in search of more stimulating zones. Much to his surprise, he’s already stumbled on most of them. Hence, he goes through his techniques in the next few minutes, not wanting to rush and dissatisfy Kaede while he tries on different rubs and strokes inside her in the same rhythm.

“Oppa… Nghh… It feels so—” she whines with pleasure, feeling the build-up down inside her nether regions while his fingers continue their work. “I’m–uhh… I–aah…. I’m close!”

More and more fluid leaks out of her opening.

Kaede can only close her eyes and let out another much louder moan in response, before delicately holding on his left shoulder and slowly resting her head on the right where she takes a breather from her orgasm, mumbling “Th–thank… Y-you…” which he hears well.

As Junghoon understands her movement, he looks at her with some concern. “You okay? I hope I didn’t read your gestures wrong.”

“You did great,” she wheezes. As a wide smile forms on her face, she looks at him with eyes full of surprise, curiosity, and hunger. “And by the way, I thought you weren’t all that intimidated by me, sunbae,” she teases, putting her hand on his blushing face.

“I can say the same thing about you,” he snickers, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you paid a waiter so we can have the room all by ourselves.”

“And for that, you’re welcome, sunbae,” she retorts sarcastically.

“Please, you don’t have to keep calling me that, Kaede-ssi,” he proposes, stroking her scruffy and sweaty hair. “We are way past formalities at this point, don’t you think?”

“Then stop using honorifics with me,” she counters him. “At least for tonight.”

“Well…” He thinks for a second, not wanting to disappoint the muse.

“Does Kae-chan sound good to you?”

“Of course, oppa,” she answers with glee, with her heavy breathing slowly subsiding. “Now, why don’t we head somewhere else? Somewhere where no else can bother us.”

= = =

Junghoon expected they would take a taxi or a bus ride to their next destination, but much to his surprise, Kaede’s apartment was only a three minute walk from the club. Setting foot on her doorstep, he notices that her place is the perfect balance of messy and clean, oddly enough. Still, he didn’t have enough time to look into this whole abode, because at the moment he takes his shoes off—his lips are met by Kaede’s once again. He holds on to her waist, pulling her closer so he can deepen the kiss in a more comfortable position.

“You done checking out my place?” she murmurs in-between kisses, slipping under his shirt and feeling his sweating chest. “How about you check something else instead.”

“I wouldn't want anything more,” he hisses, before latching his lips onto hers once more, with his hands resuming their exploration of her physique from her breasts to her waist.

Carrying the woman with his toned arms, they reach her bed. Leaving each other kisses on each other’s lips and neck, they start undressing each other’s tops, allowing them to access more zones to explore and pleasure.

“It’s my turn now, oppa,” she pushes him on the edge of the bed, making him sit down. Seeing her seductive smile, Junghoon anticipates her move, allowing her to zip down his pants and revealing his erect cock. Her eyes can only widen at his girth and length, while her mouth slowly drools. But despite this intimidating sight, she is not gonna back off so easily. With her tongue, she starts to leave a few licks around his cock before proceeding to his balls, sending tingles across the man’s brain and even making him moan, like how he made her. After her ticklish teases, Kaede finally takes in his member inside her small mouth without any word, surprising him. In her determined mind and excited body, it is a dare she is willing to take—considering how she wants for both him and herself to have a good time tonight. Within a short moment, she’s able to take half of his thick shaft as it enters her mouth, pushing the limits of her jaw by opening it as wide as she can.

He keeps his hands gripped on her hair while he thrusts his own member in and out of her mouth. Yet, despite this position, he knows that she’s in control. Feeling her tongue slithering on his cock with every thrust only intensifies the pleasure he’s already feeling. For more than ten minutes, Kaede continues her routine before, eventually, Junghoon’s stimulation begins to overload his senses. She finally returns the favor to him with how he serviced her in the bathroom earlier. “Fuck, Kae—” he groans loudly. “I’m gonna…”

Although he tries to pull out as far as he can, Kaede keeps her mouth open in front of his tip with her hand gripping on his legs, anticipating what comes next. A stream of semen blasts out of his shaft, entering straight through her mouth. He looks at her swallowing her catch, which makes him scratch his head just as a chortle leaves his mouth.

“You just took it all in?” He asks the woman out of concern and disbelief, comforting her with a caress on her back while she coughs and catches her breath.

“Most of it,” she clarifies with a smile. She takes another look down his flaccid, yet still leaking cock. “I thought I could, but they just kept on dripping, oppa.”

He laughs at her honest remark before pecking her on the lips, not caring about the fact that his seed is on her mouth. “It’s fine. You didn’t have to… You did good, Kaede-chan. Thank you.”

As she couldn’t resist his bold gesture, and his mouth, Kaede leans in to extend and deepen their kiss once, resuming their heated makeout neither of their excited spirits want to end. This time, she assists him in helping take off her own remaining garments, unhooking her bra from the back while she takes off her panties and carelessly throws it into the floor, revealing her perky breasts. But as he lays her down on the bed, a serious thought pops up in his mind, making him ignore his now enlarged cock and follow his sense of reasoning before they can proceed with their next exercise.

“Do you have a condom?” He finally speaks about his concern.

“I–umm…” Her face starts to redden, alerting himself to take more initiative.

“If you don’t, I can just buy outside. I’m sure—”

“No, no!” she exclaims, much to his surprise, before lowering down her tone into a shyer one. “You can find a box inside the nightstand.”

Complying with her direction, Junghoon walks to the nightstand and opens it, finding a box of premium condoms, all of which are still unopened, something he finds odd due to how many it is. At the same moment, his eyes also spot some rather interesting toys next to the box, and a lube. Kaede notices him taking a little longer, though she doesn’t panic.

“I've been doing things by myself,” she tells him with the same soft-spoken intonation. “Things can get lonely here sometimes, you know.”

But truth be told, making assumptions about his old friend and partner for the night is the last thing he wants to do. He’s here because he wants to make her feel good. Both of them want to. Slowly and steadily, he opens a sachet and wraps the condom around his still erect member while she watches on from the bed surrounded by her two pillows.

“It's okay,” he smiles, giving off a comforting look to Kaede. “I don't judge. I get it.”

Kneeling on the bed, he pounces on her on the bed as she latches her lips onto his, resuming the flames of their passion. Slowly but surely, he positions her on the bed while she nudges a pillow on her rear end, their naked bodies now facing each other.

“Take it easy,” she coos as her blush remains, making Junghoon slow down from his more aroused state. He’s starting to notice her facial expression. She’s a bit nervous.

“Oh… It is your first time?” he tries to make sure.

She slowly nods, before adding, “I mean, it’s my first with someone I’m not dating... It’s been a while since I’ve done… This…” She lets out a sigh. “Is that, um, okay you, oppa?”

“Of course, Kae-chan,” he reassures her with a kiss. He doesn’t know why, but hearing such a revelation makes him feel a teeny-tiny bit of weight on his shoulders. Based on her words just now, he knows she’s done it before. “I’ll do it slowly, okay?”

She nods again, forming a dampened smile, as he positions his shaft into her entrance. With his head reaching the opening, he slides in his shaft ‘till the first half of his length reaches her vagina. Kaede cannot help herself but purr, slowly welcoming his member, though the fact that’s only halfway inside also makes her hold on to both his shoulders. He gives a few more thrusts as the rest of his cock reaches deeper inside her. Junghoon’s groans mirror the woman’s muffled moans, yet they sound music to her ears—eventually letting go as she opens her mouth and lets out rising pitched cries. Their noises compose a cacophony that echoes through the walls of the room. Their composition can reach the heavens and intensify the flames of hell. Such sounds feel like music to both their ears, similar to the mixes they were dancing to a while ago. Minutes appear like hours, but neither of their brains are in the state to count or process anything but their ongoing stimulating movement.

“Oppa!” she whines with overwhelming pleasure, already squirting from her cunt, while he can feel his cock reaching its second limit despite continuing his pumps on top of her. “Nggnhhh… Imma… Ugh… I’m close.”

Junghoon continues kissing her neck, appearing as if he’s devouring her like a vampire in order to speed up his climax, catching up to Kaede’s within seconds while they moan in each other’s mouths until the inevitable happens. She comes first; he busts his semen inside the condom milliseconds later, yet for all intents and purposes, they came at the same time. He lies down next to her, hearing each other panting amidst the silence.

They take a breather for a few minutes, lying still on the bed. He looks at Kaede, curious about whatever he just witnessed inside her nightstand earlier. That being said, he’s not being judgmental, though curiosity has already gotten to him. “Now that we’re done…”

She slowly gets up; a suggestive smile forms on her lips. “Who says we're done, oppa?”

Her daring look only encourages him with a realization. He didn’t fail to satisfy Kaede. And another, being intimidated by her isn’t such a bad thing. In fact, he’s into this side of her. “Only you can, that’s for sure.”

Turned on by Kaede’s nerves, the man leaves more kisses on her neck, before reaching down to her ears, armpits, and thighs. “Fuck, this feels so good,” she murmurs. Despite being stimulated by the slow and gentle marks he’s making, Kaede stops him and stares at Junghoon for a moment, as an idea has been brought to her mind.

“One thing, before we keep going,” she appeals with her recognizable reserved voice.

He halts his actions, attentive to her next words. “Yes, Kae-chan?”

Aside from blushing cheeks, a sheepish smile forms on her face. “Can I call you daddy?”

“Huh?” His eyes widen at her question, yet he immediately feels a jolt down on his shaft, slowly erecting once more at the woman’s words. “Well, I guess I'm not against it. Sure.”

He takes a second packet from the box, opening it while he sees Kaede touching herself in anticipation for their second round. Once he puts on the condom, the woman lunges at Junghoon, softly pushing him into the wall nearest to the bed. “Where are we goi—”

She shushes him with a finger to his lips, before turning around and facing the wall. “Let’s do it here.”

Getting her suggestion, Junghoon lets out a weak laugh, before leaving loving pecks on her neck. Tickled by his gestures, Kaede giggles and rests her arms on the wall with her rear end bending for him, taking a deep breath. Compared to last time, his cock enters her entrance with a little more ease, though he can still feel its tightness. He begins his thrusts deeper inside her chambers at a steady pace, hitting the same stimulating spots from this position. Despite his cock still only halfway like last time, she can already feel him stretching her walls all over again, and she cannot get enough of it the second time.

“Hngghh… Daddy,” she gasps, tightening her grip around him. “You’re so fucking big!”

“You’re still…” he groans, finally entering the rest of his length deeper inside her, with his hand holding on to her hip. “So… Fuck…ing… Tight… Kae-chan!”

“Hayaku,” she murmurs on the top of her breath. Though he has some clue of what she means, she adds “Faster!” for him to understand her on-the-spot request.

He quickens his pace. She stiffens her arms, tightening her fingers on the wall.

“Would you like it… If I…do this…baby?” he murmurs. His hands climb their all the way up to her breasts, Feeling them bounce, he uses his fingers around both her nipples.

“Fuck!” she gasps at his sudden maneuver. “Yes, daddy…just keep…doing it! Ngghhh…”

Enveloping each with both his palms, he kneads her knockers in a circular and an up and down motion. Surges of pleasure run through her mind, making her tilt her head backwards as her tongue sticks out while she keeps moaning during his robust thrusts. With his hands at work, Junghoon licks her nape, tasting her dripping sweat like nectar.

While she wails in gratification, he slows down his pumps so he can lean into her ear. “Imagine if we’re doing this eye to eye, Kaede-chan.”

“Hnggghhh… Fuck!” His words strike a nerve. “You–ugh–would like that wouldn’t you?”

“You have no idea,” he chuckles. In her mind, she wants it too.

“I’m close!” she wails after a few minutes.

Junghoon doesn’t say anything, but her confession makes him smile. “Let it out, baby.”

And with a few more thrusts, Kaede finally reaches her second orgasm.

Taking their time to breathe, he holds her arms, keeping her from falling straight down to the floor.

“You didn’t come, did you?” she mumbles.

“I was… Close. But it’s fine.”

“Mianhae, I didn’t wait.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“Damn right. You were the one whispering all those stuff to me.”

“Those worked for you?” he scratches his head.

“Shut up,” she chuckles before pulling him closer to her. She trails her fingers up to his toned abs and chest. “How about we go for another one, hmm? Now, you lead the way.”

In their third round, Junghoon and Kaede face each other once again and in a burst of strength from his arms, he lifts the woman off the floor—triggering a squeal of surprise and excitement from her. With his hands holding onto her hips and her arms wrapping around his neck, their lips hungrily touch once more, still addicted to each other’s taste and scent. This time, her tongue invades his mouth, which he welcomes, allowing his to be dominated. Junghoon breaks their session after a minute to tell her he’ll be putting it in once more. With her back now comfortably reclined on the wall and him steadying his arms, she wraps her leg around his back. Their eyes lock, filled with thirst for each other.

“Hopefully, the third time’s a charm,” he quips. She bites her lower lip, suppressing her excitement with him now in control.

Junghoon begins motioning his cock inside her cunt, thrusting it in and out, triggering another of her erogenous zones. He alternates in kissing each of her plump and sweaty breasts, adding to the layers of pleasure that she’s feeling now while he rams her with a slightly faster pace and more robust pumps—inevitably flexing the muscles of his arms for Kaede to witness, despite her field of vision shaking and her whole body trembling.

“More, daddy,” she begs him with a peck to his cheek. “I want more…of your… Tricks.”

He cannot help but grin as he nods before sucking one of her tits in his mouth, licking every ounce of sweat that drips like maple syrup, amplifying the volume of her moans and cries while riding his member in carnal bliss. “Nngghh… Yabai… More, ugh!”

Another idea spirals into his lustful brain, making his hands squeeze both her soft butt cheeks, triggering another spot that makes her gasp and squeal next to his ear. “Such a good girl,” he whispers right back to her ear, continuing his teases. “Taking it so well.”

“Daddy! I’m–I’m…” she screams, with her eyes rolling on the back of her head while her tongue sticks out. Witnessing such a reaction only allows his cock to remain erect, if not grow a little longer than it already is, while he continues to plow the woman to his limit. While her ahegao still persists, Junghoon latches his lips on her tongue, surprising her in a satisfying manner. They kiss more sloppily, with their tongues dancing in rhythm, complementing the sound of their skins slapping together amidst their primal noises.

Kaede parts her lips to catch her breath, tightening her grip around his back. As if that's not enough, her fingernails dig through his skin just to snap herself out of her own state of overstimulation and tell him, “I’m close!”

“Me… Too!” he groans loudly in response, maintaining his rhythm despite feeling his muscles tire out and the slow aching yet stimulating sensation he’s feeling on his back. “Toge…ther, let’s…”

With a few more powered thrusts, the man finally explodes his load inside the condom. With the last ounce of his strength, he walks back to the bed and places down his worn out partner in the middle. They both lie once again, and much longer this time for five minutes of huffing and puffing, laughing, and exchanging more quips to one another.

“Fuck…” she pants, lightly tapping his upper abs beside her. “That was intense, daddy.”

“Language, dear,” he shoots back, making his voice even deeper and commanding.

“Oppa!” She lets out a burst of laughter, playfully smacking his shoulder. “You don’t have to take it that far.”

“I’m kidding, but it was really wild,” he chuckles, breathing a little heavier than her. He fixes her disheveled hair, moving them to the side to see her face. “You did well, baby.”

His words made her giggle, still enchanted by his charm of going along with her request. She leans closer to give him a simple yet comforting kiss then lies on his shoulder to rest next to him, which he welcomes–even helping her lie more comfortably by adjusting his posture. Her hand slowly slides down to his crotch in hopes of teasing him, but her eyes and smile can only widen in surprise when she feels his shaft up and running again.

“How is that even possible?” she exclaims.

He laughs in disbelief. “Well, you made it happen, I guess.”

Temptation drives her into wrapping her hand around his cock and slowly making an up and down motion, reinvigorating his lust and drive within seconds. His moan says it all.

“You up for an encore, oppa?” she winks at him.

“Lead the way, baby,” he reciprocates her enticement.

Despite both parties initially hoping for a warm and comforting spooning session due to their recovering bodies, it turns out they still have more than enough drive and vigor to get back up. Kaede straddles Junghoon's hips and just like that, their lustful passion is reignited the second their lips touch for the nth time. In fact, they’re still only halfway through the night, one that's about to be filled with more noises of pleasure. One that will involve more than several used condoms being tossed in the trash bin every few minutes. While this night may not have been one of Junghoon's ideas of relaxation, there's no doubt in his mind that this refreshing experience is a worthy addition.

= = =

9:50 AM. No alarm wakes her up, just her circadian rhythm. Thank God it’s Saturday.

Kaede opens her eyes, wrapped up in her blanket. It’s a miracle that she’s not feeling any headache from her hangover, although her body is screaming at her in the form of a few visible hickeys and sores felt from her neck to toe. Junghoon is nowhere to be found—at least not in the same room. She finds some of her toys, a vibrator, a butt plug, and a pair of nipple suckers, on top of the nightstand, letting out a chortle as they’re well organized compared to the last time they’ve used them. He’s a quick learner, she contemplates.

After dressing up in a new set of casual clothes, the woman opens the door, immediately catching the scent of something boiled, familiar, and delectable. She finds Junghoon in his attire last night, yet he looks clean and tidy, having used the bathroom about an hour earlier. He’s at the kitchen counter, putting the finishing touches of garnish on two large steaming bowls of ramen, whose black soup and ingredients remind the woman of her native dish back home. Near the sink, she sees her cooking pan and pot, alongside a few plates and utensils, have just been washed, including the cutting board that she hasn’t used in two weeks. As he places the bowls on the dining table, her eyes notice a large platter of assorted Japanese appetizers—which includes agedashi tofu, miso eggplant, shumai, and pork gyoza—along with a bowl of fresh, well cut fruits on a smaller platter. Although she knows what her sunbae does for a living, she's still amazed by his decorum, even daydreaming as if they’re now staying at a bed and breakfast, and she just happened to spend the whole night with the hunk, tall chef, who is now preparing breakfast.

“You’re up!” Junghoon greets her with a wave. “I hope you don't mind me using your kitchen. And just so you know, I didn't steal anything. Just borrowed your utensils.”

She walks to him, still looking at the cuisine in wonder. “No it's just—this is too much. But how did you get these ingredients? I haven’t bought groceries in a week.”

“Oh, I had them delivered from a nearby grocery, since I kinda did not wanna get locked in,” he snickers. “Or got the chance to ask you what your door pin is, though that’s fine.”

Her gaze at the table remains in spectacle, though Junghoon reads it as consternation.

“Did I cook too much?” he tries to clarify. “Or do you prefer takeout, ‘cause I can also—”

“No, no!” she panics, although she calms herself down to avoid any misunderstandings. “Don't. I didn’t say it's a bad thing. I've never cooked for myself in a long time, so seeing these on the table is just so—Wow… Thank you, sunbae. I can pay you the ingredients—”

“Please. No need for that,” he interrupts her politely. “It’s the least I can do, Kaede-ssi.”

They eat breakfast over the table. Minutes past, Junghoon can only hear the humming and cheerful chewings of the woman. “Mmm! This is something else, oppa. It’s hard to believe any of these ingredients are store-bought.”

“Thanks,” he answers, but something else is on his mind. And his silence alerts her.

“Come on now, oppa,” she initiates. “Your face is already obvious. Spit it out.”

“I don't mean to ask anything about earlier… but about those toys,” he still stops, hoping that she won’t be offended.

“You're still curious about my sex life?” She places down her renge spoon and puts her elbow on the table, raising an eyebrow at him with a half-suppressed smile. “Isn’t last night enough for you? Wait, did you not enjoy using them?”

“No, no, it’s not that! Of course, I enjoyed them.” he retorts. “That’s not what I want to ask. I’m just wondering how your friends see your dating life, considering how you said you started going to the nightclub without them at times. If that's okay with you, at least. You don't have to answer if it's uncomfortable for you.”

Kaede sighs. She’s given much thought to it herself as well, considering her hesitations from the other night. Silence ensues in the room, though she breaks it once she finally makes up her mind. “Maybe, it has stuck with me since college, but umm, you know I was roommates with Yubin-ah. You remember her, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods, trying to process where her point is heading. “Of course.”

“She’s done a lot of wild stuff with your friend back then, Yeonghwan. When they were dating and all that… I know that bringing them up may be sudden, that was maybe the first time I felt that I was envious and insecure.”

Concern arises in his eyes, yet her words somewhat resonate with him. “Of what?”

She stares into the distance, reminiscing her regrets. “Of not having that kind of experience… That feeling. Yet I didn’t get the chance until I was in my later years.”

He remembers her words from last night. Her desire to be touched, like most women, hindered by a lot of people’s surface-level perceptions and shallow expectations of her. To some degree, Junghoon himself understands how she feels, based on how others had viewed both of them in the past. Despite those things happening a long time ago, certain unpleasant memories and some hesitations still lingered within them from time to time.

“And of course, my, umm, first time with my own ex wasn't the best,” she turns to him. “But last night, you kinda made me forget that… It's like that never even happened.”

He didn’t expect those words from her. “Really now? I honestly don’t know what to say… I'm glad. But–uhh, whoever you meet next, I hope they’ll treat you the same.”

She giggles at his remark. “I don't think that's even possible, oppa.”

“This must be a new thing for you, then…” he surmises. “Though from someone who’s new, you still did well. Actually, I think well’s an understatement.”

“Thanks,” she looks down with a smile, though another realization shifts her face into a sullen expression when she looks up to him. “Though I don’t know if I want to keep up this kind of routine with my colleagues. Not everyone’s like you, sunbae.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” he counters. “You get to meet someone better. And why would it matter to others if you keep going on one-night stands? That’s your choice.”

“Well, I got myself into this when I showed off to my friends at work. They would brag about their flings and wild relationships, so I make them think I get laid a lot of times. Whenever they stop by to hang out, I try to make things more... convincing. Maybe it’s just my insecurity getting the best of me, but I've also gotten used to it. I lied because I thought that my own life wasn’t good enough to be shared.”

“I…” He's at loss for words, simply astonished at the woman's tale. “Didn’t expect that. But it must be tough, pretending to be someone you’re not to your friends.”

She raises an eyebrow again, her lips forming a pout. “You're judging me, aren't you?”

“I'm not judging you!” he waves his hands. “It's just, I didn't expect you to open up.”

“But your face makes it look like you have something to say about my life choices.”

“Not much… I just think that it doesn't matter how often you sleep around with anyone. And who cares if you have a lot of toys? If they really are your friends, then they would respect, forgive, and understand that you’re actually not that kind of a person. If not… Then they’re not worthy of being your friends to begin with. Just my two cents.”

“Doesn't sound like just two cents. Don’t undersell yourself,” she quips.

He lets out a sardonic laugh. “I’m just saying… Live your life however you want, as long as you’re happy, Kaede. Besides, going to a nightclub does not have to mean you got to hook up with someone... You're just having fun on your own or with your friends, and there's nothing wrong about that.”

She tilts her head as a somber smile gleams on her face. His words somehow put her at ease. “You know, with words like that, how come you still don't have a girlfriend now?”

“Because saying things like that will bore the heck out of them,” he admits. “I didn't say those things to flirt with you. I’m just saying my piece to you as a friend.”

“I know, but some gals dig that type, you know? It's like when someone's disciplining them when they're being a bad—”

"Again with the dad kink thing," he whines, yet can’t help but laugh at her frankness.

“I'm kidding!” she insists. “Well, half-kidding. And you still didn't answer my question.”

He scoffs at her attempt to change the subject back. “Again, I don't have the time—”

“That’s bullshit,” she goads. “Didn't you remember what I said about you?”

“Well, it's true though,” he simply tells her, his energized tone slightly dropping.

She senses something else. He looks discouraged. “Did someone hurt you..? You don’t have to tell me… But it seems like you have something you want to get off your chest.” She stops for a second, considering that she has gotten ahead of herself. “Unless, I’m misreading the situation.”

“You’re not, Kaede-yah…” he lightens her up. “And besides, since I asked you a personal question first, the least I can do is answer yours.” Even with his deep voice, he begins to crack as he continues to speak. “But... I–uh, I guess, I wasn't honest enough with my ex. In a way, you can say that I hurt her instead. Instead of appreciating whatever we had, I messed it up. I thought I wasn’t good enough… So I guess you're not the only one who fell into their own insecurity. Mine ruined a relationship.” He sighs, doing his best to hide his more vulnerable side from his hoobae, but she’s already seen it through his clenched fists and heard the slight quivers in his voice.

Standing up from her seat, Kaede walks to him with her arms opened, enveloping him in a warm embrace. Such an action raises his heartbeat, reciprocating her heartfelt gesture, yet he feels more than comforted.

“I hope you find someone you will love," she murmurs next to his ear. “Once you sort out whatever has been keeping you from doing so, that is. You deserve to love and be loved like anyone else, oppa.”

“And I hope you find someone who’s willing to open their door to you, and love you in all your cute, wild, sexy, and funny sides. Someone who loves you for who you are," he requites. “I'm sure someone will, Kaede.”

Their passionate night wasn’t a romantic one, but they know and feel that it doesn’t have to be meaningless either. They’re friends who reunited after a few years, and that’s more than enough for them to reconnect again. Not the closest, but good friends nevertheless.

She chuckles, before letting out a sigh of relief. No tears came out from either of them, but their hearts felt at ease from each other’s embrace. Their bodies finally part after a few seconds. Kaede looks at him with a hopeful smile. “I didn’t know one-night stands can be emotional afterwards.”

She heads back to her seat. “Me too,” Junghoon concurs. “And it’s my first time too…”

“Geojitmal,” she scoffs with a teasing smile. “Last night was, no, were your first times?”

“I wasn’t finished,” he frowns for a moment. Kaede smirks in return. “I mean this was also my first time having an emotional one-night stand. At least in the morning after.”

“Whatever,” she chortles. “Come on now, we better finish up all this food you’ve cooked. And it sucks because this will be the only time I have anything better on my table that is not delivered outside.”

“You better start cooking on your own then,” he teases. “Unless you want to come visit our restaurant some other time, you’ll get the same, if not better, quality of food for a decent price.”

“Way to go promoting your workplace,” she teases, jabbing him lightly on the shoulder. “But of course, sunbae! Just tell me the name and address. I may even bring my friends there for lunch or dinner.”

After a moment of laughter and him sharing with Kaede the name of the restaurant he’s working at, Junghoon feels a buzzing from his phone on the table before he can pick up his spoon and chopsticks. The latest messages on his buddies’ group chat arise. While Kaede takes another healthy slurp of her ramen, he reads their ongoing exchanges.

[Kangmin]: What happened to your date? Yel, was it?

[Insoo]: The busty blonde? She and her friends just ditched us right as we outside.

[Honggi]: Or maybe she already lost interest in you because she heard you call her that.

[Insoo]: Whatever. That was her loss! I bet that's not even her real name.

[Honggi]: I told you we should've gone after someone else Like that short-haired one!

[Insoo]: As if any of us had the chance! That woman was insane and untouchable on the dance floor! She definitely has high standards.

[Kangmin]: Come on, guys. Don’t beat yourselves up.

[Honggi]: Coming from the one who got someone's number.

{I’m sure there’s always gonna be another night for y’all.}

[Honggi]: Junghoon-ah!We’re so sorry for leaving early, man. Insoo got us leaving ‘cause he thought he rizzed someone up.

[Insoo]: Don’t listen to him, man. It was Honggi’s idea. I actually thought of you before he went all down bad on some redhead. [Honggi]: Yah! I only went along with you 'cause she was friends with Yel. You're the one who's down bad.

{Gwenchana, guys ㅎㅎㅎ I’m just glad you guys got home safely.}

[Kangmin]: How ‘bout you, Jung-ah? Were you still in the club when we left?

{I did! I stayed there for a little while.} {I actually had a good time.} {I owe you guys one.}

Junghoon takes a glance at Kaede. She's also on her phone, scrolling through her social reels with a wide grin.

[Insoo]: See? Now, what did we tell you?

[Kangmin]: That’s great to hear, man! Anything interesting happened?

{Oh, nothing much.} {Well, actually, it was interesting.}

She looks at his face with curiosity, after seeing him chuckle while texting his friends. “Are those your friends right now?”

[Insoo]: Really? Come on, dude, spill those beans. [Honggi]: You’re killing us with this wait! [Insoo]: What happened to you?!

“They are,” he nods, unable to hide his smile. “And I gotta say, I guess I was kind of the 'lucky one' among us last night.”

[Kangmin]: Looks like we have a true winner after all! 🤝

[Honggi]: Don’t leave us hanging, man! ㅠㅠㅠ

“Oh yeah?” she giggles, before taking a piece of pork gyoza into her mouth with a look of curiosity at his remark. “How so?”

{Guys, just chill out! ㅋㅋㅋ} {I met up with an old friend.}

= = =

a/n: so, you finally made it through the end lol. you've either read the whole thing or skipped here. either way, thank you for reading my first fic. this definitely ended up a lot longer than I intended it to be, but it's here. I'll definitely do my best to improve my writing. have a nice day!

[fadewalking]

"Love", huh?

[elytrafemme]

you all will be infuriated with me but i’m being dead serious this time, this isn’t a “haha let’s get my mutuals telling me they think i have this in a joking way” this is like, i’m seriously considering this sort of thing.

i’m wondering if i was wrong about the borderline thing. 

and to be clear because i know at least some people might jump on this, i’m not saying all the symptoms i attributed to it are gone. those are still existent and bpd is the best explanation out of the countless of other conditions i’ve read research papers about, talked to professionals about, or otherwise studied. like this is the best thing i have to go off of. 

but i think i’m very used to being wrong about these things. i was wrong about being part of a system, which i guess i can elaborate on but at this point like, i give up, at some point i’ll go through and delete my pluralkit because i’m tired of this shit. i was wrong about every other condition i thought i had and to be clear part of why i thought i had those conditions was me just trying to humble any other option but bpd. so if they were successful, well, that’d be unexpected.

but that still makes it extremely strange and i honestly am doubting if i have bpd anymore.

[icewindandboringhorror]

golf

[seamany]

The post that solved it all for me PART 1

NOT MY POST, THIS IS MOBILEBLACKSMITH2535 VIA REDDIT

(It might sound like I'm yelling at you in this paragraph but these are just things I wish someone told me like years ago) Here is where I talk about everything law of assumption that helped me ACTUALLY become a master manifestor. The law of assumption, as I see it, is the law of being. You cannot experience what you are not being. Coming from a person that used to cry myself to sleep every night feeling frustrated, hopeless, and extremely tired of putting all this effort into something and getting absolutely nothing back, this shit is real. Please do not take this post with a grain of salt. Please do not toss my story in with the probably hundreds of other "I have shifted" threads/videos you have witnessed. If you want to shift listen to every word that I say. I can't explain why we have this power I just know that from November of 2020 to July of 2023 I have been working my ass of to get somewhere, anywhere. In between those 3 years I had an on and off behavior towards shifting. I used to force myself to forget about shifting for a few weeks because it hurt too much to think about it. I felt like I won the lottery and I couldn't cash in the money. It was awful and I wouldn't wish that feeling of hopelessness on any other conscious being. Sometimes I would watch shifting tik tok compilation videos on YouTube and get a surge of motivation that would soon die out along with any semblance of dignity and self-esteem I had left. I'm telling you not asking you to see me as a real completely sane person because that is exactly what I am. Even though I'm creative and spiritual (not religious, spiritual), I can't help but see things logically. It's just my nature. I like patterns, formulas, structured systems, explanations, science, etc. I knew the probability of hundreds upon thousands of people describing in detail their experience of shifting couldn't be a phenomenon but a real...thing. I, for some reason, never doubted the possibility of shifting, more my capability to do it. Along my journey I've had my moments of distrust surrounding shifting in itself, and as I rounded onto the 3rd year of attempts I had increasing feelings of dread and anger. I was angry at the world that I live in, feeling dreadful that I couldn't escape it all. Then on one fateful fateful day, specifically July 31rst 2023 at about 8:30 am, I shifted. It was easy and it was effortless. Just as everyone says, but that's not something I'd like to focus on in today's post. I'm not making this post to tell you how simple shifting is or to "let go" (whatever the fuck that means) or to change your mindset. Those things are all useless compared to the thing that just clicked for me on July 31rst 2023 at about 8:30 am. What I am going to tell you is going to be so stupidly straightforward that your mind isn't going to want to believe me at first. You are going to try to make it more complicated than it is, just like you probably did with shifting when you first learned about it. But assure you that you should take what I am about to say at face-value. You don't need to let go, you don't need to change anything about yourself, you don't need to "release blockages", you don't need to reprogram your subconscious mind. You are done. You have your desire already. You are finished and there is nothing left for you to do.

LOOK AT MY PAGE FOR PART TWO

[spider-stark]

THE BRIDGE

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!Reader

Summary - Your wardship with House Blackwood was meant to bridge the chasm between your families. Years later, you return to Stone Hedge as the whispers of war spread—only for Lord Tully to call for a hunt.

Warnings - fem!reader, complicated sibling relationship, fighting, (probably excessive) mentions of blood, talks about hunting/killing wild animals, !angst!, adult language, reader def suffering from identity crisis, probably deviates from canon some, kieran burton fan cast for benji, all characters 18+

Word Count - 5.6k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

When Grover Tully, the Lord Paramount of the Trident, sent word for each of his bannermen to send forth a handful of their finest House members to a most desolate area of the Whispering Woods, no one thought it wise to object. 

“Lord Grover is an ornery old crow,” your father, Humfrey Bracken huffed as you readied the horses. “But you would do well to earn his respect.” He clamped a hand on your brother’s shoulder, pride gleaming in his eyes as he said, “Whatever he’s planning, I want you to show him that House Bracken stands strong. Understood?” 

Keeping his chin held high, Amos hesitantly mutters, “If you wish to impress Lord Tully, you might think twice about sending her.” 

Even with your back turned, you could feel the weight of your brother’s stare, his eyes boring a hole into the back of your head. 

Your father shrugged, a disinterested gesture. “Grover said to send our best,” he said, “and when it comes to a bow and arrow, no one's a better shot than her.” 

For the next day-and-a-half, you rode at a distance from the group your father selected—your brother, Amos, and two of your male cousins. And while they laughed and jeered and yapped, you remained stuck in your own thoughts, playing your father’s words on a loop. 

It’s the only compliment he’s ever paid you. The closest he’s ever come to acknowledging you as Bracken. 

You hate him sometimes, you think. For agreeing to peace all those years ago—for sending his only daughter to ward with his rival of all people. He must have known it was futile. Must have known that one girl could never bridge such an ancient chasm. 

He must have known—and yet he sent you anyway, only to call you back years later, tearing you away from the only home you had ever known and leaving you to feel like a stranger in your House. 

Grover said to send our best. 

Are you a Bracken, then? Is blood all that determines a House? 

No one’s a better shot than her. 

But your skill is that of a Blackwood, born under their tutelage. 

Deep within the Woods, a steady mist of rain falls from the sky, leaving your skin uncomfortably damp. In the distance, a low hum of chattering voices signal that the four of you are drawing close to Lord Grover’s camp—and that the other House’s have already arrived. 

Your thoughts shift, wondering who Lord Samwell sent to represent House Blackwood—fearing that you might already know the answer. 

A strange tightness floods your chest, coiling around your lungs. 

It’s been months since you last saw the heir to Raventree Hall. Many, many months—and you can’t help but think any reunion might end in bloodshed with Amos by your side. 

As if he heard his name ring through your mind, your brother slows his horse to gentle trot beside yours, cocking a neatly groomed brow at you. “Tell me, sister—were you always this dour?” He asks, feigning intrigue. “Or did half-a-decade with the Blackwoods simply drain the joy from you?” 

You don’t pry your eyes from the path ahead, refusing to look him in the eye as he continues without waiting for an answer. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised—a mere day with those insipid cravens would have me wishing to swallow my own blade.” Removing a hand from the reins, he pantomimed the act—gripping an invisible hilt and shoving it towards his lips, letting a dramatic choke rip from his throat. 

Riding a bit ahead, your cousins chortle at his jest, shooting amused glances over their shoulders. 

“No need,” you answer without thinking, your tone impassive. “Aly would have an arrow in your eye before the day was up.” 

Your cousins fall silent. 

Amos stiffens, jaw clenched tight. “She could try.” 

You know Black Aly would try if given half the chance—and you have no doubt that she would succeed, too. She was the one who taught you how to string a bow and sharpen arrows, how to aim and never miss. 

When you don’t respond, Amos pulls his horse in closer—as close as he can get without spookings yours. “Look,” he utters, low enough that your cousins can’t overhear, “I don’t know how things were done at Raventree—but you’re home now, and you would do well to remember where your true loyalties lie.” 

Again, you don’t speak. Don’t think, either. 

Amos sighs. “Your blood runs gold, sister. You’re a Bracken, through-and-through. Take pride in that—and don’t bring shame upon our name. Understood?” 

Strange. 

You had seen your own blood before—more times than you can count, actually. Scars mottle your skin like stars in the sky, a reminder of the years spent training and the memories of nights spent with friends who were supposed to be enemies. 

Never once had it looked gold to you.

Only red. 

“I understand–” a pause, a breath, a heartbeat– “brother.” 

Nausea twists your stomach. The familial title curdles on your tongue even as Amos grins at you. There’s nothing affectionate about the gesture—how could there be? He doesn’t know you. Not really. 

Blood or no, you’re little more than strangers to each other—and yet, even so, you can see he’s trying. Trying to know you. 

Ahead, the camp comes into view. Banners hang above tents: white for the Mootons, blue for the Pipers, purple for the Mallisters. 

And red—for House Blackwood. 

Amos gives you one last glance, a pall mimicry of what you believe is meant to be love in his eyes. “You’re home now,” he reminds you again, as if you need to hear it,“be glad for it.” 

With the Tully’s guards now in earshot, Amos doesn’t bother with waiting for a response. He snaps the reins, urging his gelding back to the head of your group, already bellowing his greetings. You watch him go, transfixed on the yellow-gold of his tunic—identical to yours. 

Approaching the guards, you tell yourself that your brother is what home is supposed to look like. That if you were to slice your veins, gold would pour from your wrists. 

Not red. 

After checking in with the guards and tying your mare up in the makeshift paddock, there was no time left to freshen up before you were expected to join Amos and your cousins. With all the Houses now gathered, Lord Grover wasted no time in calling you all to the heart of the camp. 

Still, you try to make yourself presentable—using your fingers to comb through tangled, windswept hair and smoothing the wrinkles from your gold tunic, careful not to disturb the ornate brooch pinned above your heart. 

According to the guards, everyone was given one upon arrival. “All Houses are required to wear them,” they explained when Amos pressed them on it, “Lord Tully’s orders.” 

They were all different, it seemed. Yours was a delicate thing, fashioned from silver and pearls in the image of a blooming dahlia, while Amos’s was clunky and shaped like the sun. He’s still fumbling with it when you finally push through the small crowd, taking your place at his side. 

To your left, separated only by a group of five Frey men, you feel the wary glances being cast your way. You almost turn your head—almost glance back at them, if only to see what they might do. What he would do. 

Would he even acknowledge you? Or simply look away? 

The answer, thankfully, is one you don’t have time to learn. A servant garners attention, dragging a simple, plush chair to the group’s center. Following suit, another two servants assist the aged Lord Paramount from his tent, guiding him into his seat. On his right stands his eldest grandson—and your favorite Tully. Tall and dark-haired, Elmo looks more fearsome than he actually is, sparing you a quick, discreet wink when he spots you. 

“You may all be wondering,” Lord Grover wheezes, his lungs fighting for breath, “why I have called upon you all today—the many great Houses of our land.” 

As he speaks, old, gnarled hands punctuate his words, gesturing out to the many men gathered ‘round. His fingers shake with effort, his shoulders bowed beneath the weight of his many, many years. But his chin remains high, and his tone commanding—if a touch quavery. 

“I hear rumblings,” he continues, “from the South-East.” 

Lord Grover’s eyes, milky with cataracts, shift in the direction, staring blindly into the towering trees of the Whispering Woods. Beyond them, even. 

“Whispers of a great danger brewing in the Crownlands—within the King’s own court, if rumors are to be trusted.” 

Your spine turns to steel. 

Those rumors, you know, are as true as they come. Over the past several months, they had moved through the realm like a venomous serpent. Slithering from mouth to ear, hissing tales of the two factions that now divide King Viserys’s council. 

The Blacks and the Greens. 

The rightful heir and the first-born son. 

And the very reason your father had called you home. 

“War is coming,” a deep, foreboding warning, “and should it reach the Riverlands, I wish to know that we might stand united in its wrath. That we will not allow petty rivalries–” a pointed glance at your brother, and then to your left where, without looking, you know the Blackwood heir stands–“to tear us apart from within.” 

A heartbeat passes. Then another. 

The forest holds its breath. Cradles the Lord Paramount’s words in the air, weaving them around the many great Houses of the Riverlands. 

You wonder if this is what strength looks like. What it sounds like. 

You fear you already know which side of the war Lord Grover’s strength might fall—and you pray that you’re wrong. 

Placing a firm hand upon his grandfather’s shoulder, Elmo takes a step forward. “In an effort to promote civility between our Houses,” he announces in a tone that demands respect, “we have arranged for a hunt.” 

Your brow furrows. A hunt? 

“You will be divided into two person teams, working with an individual outside of your own House.” His gaze shifts to you, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Teams have already been decided. Upon your arrival, each of you was given a pin—your partner will bear a matching one. And while there will be no winners or losers, you should know that once you leave camp, you will not be permitted to return without a trophy of some kind.” 

Discontent spreads. Low murmurs fill the air. 

Amos voices his frustration louder than the rest.  “And when is this hunt to take place?” 

Elmo grins. “Now.” 

Instantly, murmurs grow to shouts. 

“You cannot be serious, my Lord!” 

“It is already sunset!” 

“Is this a jest?” 

Elmo’s grin never wavers, unphased by the protests—and Lord Grover appears content to let his grandson contend with everyone's bickering, exhausted from what little talking he had already done. 

“Might I suggest you move quickly,” Elmo speaks over the crowd. Glancing upwards, he squints at the black clouds rolling overhead, an amused lilt to his voice as he adds, “Lest you wish to be caught in the coming storm.” 

With no more than a curt nod to the crowd, Elmo turns on his heel, already veering off in the direction of his own tent as servants begin to help Lord Grover rise. 

“This is absurd,” your brother grumbles. 

You ignore him. Storming right past him, you make a beeline for the fleeing Lord. 

“A hunt?!” 

Fond as Elmo is of you, you know better than to shout at the future Lord Paramount of the Trident. Your voice remains no more than a harsh whisper, even as you shoot daggers into the back of his head. 

“At night, no less! In the middle of a gods-damned storm! Have you lost your mind?” 

“What? You think it’s a bad idea?” He chuckles, keeping a steady pace. “Of all people, I thought that you might appreciate the challenge of it all.” 

You stay on his heels. “Who is he?” 

“Who is who?” 

Further from the crowd now, you grow bold. You reach out and snag his arm, forcing him to stop and face you. “Ignorance isn’t a good look on you, Elm.” You grind out, “Swear that you didn’t pick him to be my partner.” 

A wrinkle forms between thick brows, feigning innocence. “What makes you think that I chose your partner?” 

“Because I know you. You’re always scheming—jutting your big nose into places it very well does not belong!” 

Elmo opens his mouth—hesitates—and then frowns. “Am I truly that transparent?” 

“You may as well be made of glass, Elm.” 

His pout deepens, still dancing around your question. “Well, let's say that I did choose your partner—theoretically, of course!” Your eyes roll. “I think you would find my choice to be quite suitable. If anything, you might even thank me-” 

“This isn’t a game, Elmo!” Desperate now, you can’t stop your voice from rising. “If you paired me with him, then Amos will–” 

“Kill him?” Elmo ventures. 

“Yes!’ 

Pursing his lips, Elmo’s gaze falls somewhere over your head. “Well,” he sucks in a breath, “it seems we may be past the point of stopping that from happening.” 

Your mind goes blank, your thoughts scattering like shards of glass. 

You spin on your heel, head whirling around in search of Amos in the throng. Less than a second and you spot him—not because your gaze was drawn to the familiar gold color of your own House, but because of the wall of stark scarlet standing before him. 

Blackwoods. Two of them on either side of the Raventree heir. 

And Benji—his hands pressed to your brother's chest, roughly shoving him back into one of your cousins. 

“Do me a favor,” Elmo's sigh cuts through your panicked haze. “Keep the two of them from plunging a sword in the others’ belly, would you?” 

Any other time and you might have told Elmo off, cursed him for putting you in this position—future Lord Paramount be damned. 

But not now. Not when centuries of rivalry serve as proof that nothing is more dangerous, more unpredictable than this—

A Blackwood and a Bracken—your brother and Benji—standing toe-to-toe. 

Mindless adrenaline is all that thrusts you into motion. Mud splatters up the legs of your trousers as you practically run in their direction, demanding as soon as you’re in ear shot, “What is this?!” 

Amos doesn’t acknowledge you. Neither does Benji. 

Chests-puffed, they remain locked in their foolish staring match, neither of them willing to be the first to back down. 

Finally, one of your cousins sneers, “Seems that Benji-boy here thinks we’re gonna let him take you out into the woods.” 

A sharp, nasty laugh rips from Amos’s throat. “As if I’d let that happen!” 

“We’re partnered for the hunt, you imbecile.” Benji’s tone is that of lethal calm, even as he glares down his nose at your brother. You look to his chest—spotting the silver dahlia pinned at his breast. “If you have a problem with it, take it up with Tully.” 

“You think I’m stupid, Blackwood?!” 

Benji’s brow lifts a fraction of an inch, as if silently proclaiming—I just said so, did I not? 

Scowling, Amos juts his finger against Benji’s chest. “I refuse to give a Blackwood an opportunity to defile my sister!” 

Benji’s answering grin is something wicked as he purrs, “Oh, if I wanted to defile your sister, Bracken, I could’ve done so a long time ago.” 

Your pulse pounds—caught somewhere between offense and desire as Benji’s words echo in your head. 

Both feelings fade to fear when Amos reaches for the hilt of his sword, wrenching it from the sheath at his hip. In a blink, more weapons are drawn—your cousins holding swords, the Blackwoods holding daggers. 

Not Benji, though. 

Benji doesn’t flinch, even with your brother's sword poised at his throat, ready to kill. Something flickers in his eyes—a shift that you know all too well, sending ice skittering across your bones. 

“I won’t have this,” Amos seethes. “You will find another partner—or I swear on my House that blood will be shed!” 

Benji leans closer. Let the tip of the blade dig into his flesh, a rivulet of blood rolling down his throat. 

Red. 

“Is that a threat, Bracken?” 

You can hear your brother swallow—feel his panic as if it were your own, as if it was his fear coursing through your veins. Still, his voice remains steady. “Consider it a promise, Blackwood.” 

A blink and steel was glinting before your eyes. A single breath and Amos was out-maneuvered and out-matched—the clash erupting and subsiding in one seamless heartbeat, ending with your brother's sword in Benji’s hand. 

A shuddering breath slips from your brother's lips as Benji presses the steel to his throat, a perfect mirror of the position they were in just moments ago. 

“What’s the matter, Bracken?” Benji croons sarcastically, head hilting. “Do I frighten you?” 

There’s a lull to his voice—an eerie stillness that sends a chill scuttering down your spine. 

Amos was ignorant—to pick a fight with Benji, to think he might actually win it. But he’s your brother, too—and you know that if he were to be slain right now—right here—an even larger chasm will take the place of the one you were once meant to bridge. 

“Stop.” 

The demand is no more than a breath. A soft, terrified sound. 

Yet still, it makes Benji’s focus waver. 

“Leave him.” You force yourself to speak louder. Stronger. “Now.” 

You take a step closer—a hand outstretched, reaching towards Benji. His attention shifts, settling on you. He blinks—his stormy eyes, dark with rage, finally starting to clear. 

Benji’s movements languid as he steps away from your brother. Your cousins rush to Amos’s side as he stumbles back, frantically checking the heir of Stone Hedge for any sign of injury. 

They found none. Not even a scratch upon his throat, where his own sword had just hovered. 

Benji passes you the sword—a silent conversation passing between the two of you. 

You could have killed him, you glare. 

I could have—Benji agrees with a small, self-satisfied smile—but I didn’t. 

One of your cousins, bold and stupid, steps forward. “Is that all it takes to keep you at heel, Blackwood?” He glances between the two of you, his lip curling into a sneer. “A dog and his bitch,” he taunts, “how sweet–” 

A cry rips from his throat, cutting his insult short. You expect it to be Benji, having noticed the way his fists had clenched from the moment your cousin so much as looked at you. And perhaps it would’ve been—if your brother hadn’t grabbed the fool by the scruff of his neck, yanking him backwards and shoving him to the muddy ground. 

“Say what you want of him,” Amos tells your cousin, his voice gruff, “but you will mind how you speak of her.” 

You don’t know what to make of that. Of Amos defending you. Of knowing that if he hadn’t, Benji would have. Or that, even after that, Amos doesn’t quite know how to look you in the eyes, looking to the grass and the sky and anything that isn’t you. 

You’re a Bracken, through-and-through. Take pride in that. 

But did he take pride in you? 

If you wish to impress Lord Tully, you might think twice about sending her. 

“What’s done is done.” With a pointed look towards Lord Grover’s tent off in the distance, you say, “Now is not the time nor the place. If you wish so badly to fight, save it for when the war begins.” 

On one side of you, Benji remains silent, watching you with a curious glint in his eye. On the other, Amos hesitates. 

“I don’t trust him,” he says. 

You wonder if he doesn’t know how to say: I’m worried about you. 

“You heard our father,” you tell him, chin high, “when it comes to a bow and arrow, no one’s a better shot.” 

Perhaps there are things you don’t know how to say, too. Like: But I do. I trust him with my life. Maybe even with yours, too. 

Begrudgingly, Benji meets your brother's gaze, fighting the urge to scowl at him. “For years, no harm befell your sister under my watch—and you have my word that none shall befall her now,” he vows. “I swear it upon the Old Gods.” 

“And the New?” 

You consider stomping on Amos’s foot. 

Ignorant. To continue pushing— 

“Fine.” Benji’s brusque answer takes you by surprise. “Upon your false Gods as well, then.” 

Amos, to his credit, argues no further, only echoing the Raventree heir. “Fine.” 

For a fleeting moment longer, they stand there, eyes locked. Amos is the first to turn—the roaring tension dissipating into a hushed hiss as him and your cousins storm off. Benji stays, even as his own men begin to back off, as if listening to a silent command to go find their own partners. 

You look at him. And he smiles—a shy, awkward thing. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he says, a barely perceptible pause in his speech. “At the edge of camp—you can find me whenever you’ve gathered your things.” 

You open your mouth to speak, to say something—but the words take root in your chest, leaving vines to crawl up your throat. If you speak, you worry about what might come out. Worry it won’t be as delicate as the dahlia pinned above your heart—above his, too. 

So you close your mouth. Say nothing. Nod—and turn, trying to keep your legs from shaking as you walk back to the makeshift paddock to get what you would need for the hunt. 

True to his word, you find the heir of Raventree at the edge of camp, leaning against a towering oak and using the tip of his dagger to idly pick dirt from his nails. 

You brought only what was necessary—your bow, strapped between your shoulders, and a dark-leather quiver slung over your shoulder, stocked with already-sharpened arrows. 

Light rain mists over your face, the sky groaning with a low rumble of thunder. The forest floor squelches beneath your feet as you trudge towards him. Forever on-guard, Benji wastes no time in pushing himself off the tree, adjusting the dagger in his palm so that it can be easily plunged into another's belly if necessary. 

But then he sees you, dressed in Bracken gold with damp hair sticking to your cheeks, and looses a breath. Relaxing at the sight of you—his rival, according to centuries of precedent. Your rival, too, you suppose. 

Benji doesn’t look like your rival, though. 

Sheathing his dagger at his hip, you see no trace of the lethal Lord who, mere moments ago, was willing to go head-to-head with the heir to Stone Hedge. This boy—stuffing his hands in his pockets, a light flush crawling up his throat—is not Benjicot Blackwood, the heir of Raventree Hall. 

He’s just Benji. 

“Ready to go?” He asks when you’re closer, his voice a familiar caress so unlike the eerie lull it held earlier. 

It takes everything in you to erect an icy wall around your heart, colder even than Northern winds. You shove past him, your shoulder knocking into his as you go and earning a perplexed stare. “Let’s get this over with,” you snap, plunging into the depths of the Woods and leaving him to follow behind. 

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. 

Dusk crept swiftly through the Riverlands, casting a pall shadow over the Whispering Woods. Overhead, dark clouds seem to grow thicker, obscuring what little light the moon has to offer. 

A fool’s errand. An impossible task. 

That is what Elmo Tully had arranged—not a hunt. 

With the sun hidden beyond the horizon and a near-constant rumble of thunder, any animal in these Woods would either be asleep or hiding by now, trying to escape the incoming storm. To find a trophy to bring back to camp—even something as simple as a hare—was unlikely. 

Still, knowing the guards won’t let you back in without one, you keep walking. Keep plunging further into the Woods, praying to the Gods that you might find something to take back to camp. 

Twigs snap a few paces behind you, wet foliage squelching beneath purposefully heavy steps. A low, careless whistle tests your patience. 

With your bow hanging from your hand, you grumble, “You’re being too loud.” 

Benji feigns innocence. “Am I?” 

“Yes,” you hiss through gritted teeth, never slowing your pace. “Be quiet—unless you wish to scare off any game and spend the night sleeping on wet soil.” 

He chuckles—loudly. “Have you looked up lately?” Benji asks. “The sky looks as if it’ll crack open any minute now! Any animal with sense is hiding right now, anyway.” 

True. 

“Then we find one without sense, then.” 

Benji snorts. “The only thing without sense in this forest is Amos Bracken.” 

Without warning, you stop dead in your tracks—leaving Benji to nearly stumble into you. You cast a glare over your shoulder, cold enough that a chill seeps right into his bones. “You’d do well to keep quiet, Benjicot.” 

His lip curls, revealing a flash of slightly crooked teeth. “And since when do you call me Benjicot?” He asks, a ribbon of disbelief lacing his own name. 

Your jaw tenses, a muscle feathering there. 

I don’t know, you think, a pang of uncertainty cracking the ice wall around your heart. 

You reinforce ice with steel—turning fully now so that you’re face-to-face, dropping your bow to the ground by your feet. “I won’t let you speak of him that way,” you say, ignoring his question. “My brother is the heir to Stone Hedge–” 

A bemused laugh cuts through your words. “Oh, he’s your brother now, is he?” 

You speak over him, voice rising. “To insult him is to insult the whole of House Bracken–” 

“Fuck House Bracken,” Benji growls. 

He takes a half-step closer, towering over you with no more than a foot between you. You don’t falter—don’t look away. 

“I am a Bracken."

His head tilts. “Are you? Last I checked, you were practically raised on Blackwood soil.” 

“Perhaps,” you admit. “But my wardship is over–” 

Benji cuts you off. “Tell me, where was your brother all these years, then? Your father?” He doesn’t let you answer. “No more than a brisk-fucking-walk separating you and yet neither one of them cared to visit with the forgotten daughter of Stone Hedge!” 

You’re a Bracken—

“You don’t know them,” you protest weakly, your resolve crumbling. 

—through-and-through. 

“And you do?” He challenges. Another step, his chest inches from yours. Warmth radiates from his body, seeping into yours and melting melting melting. “Why did your father call you home?” 

His words are no more than a breath fanning across your cheek. 

Vulnerability permeates your gaze, bearing an unspoken truth. Because war is coming, you convey with no more than a flicker of your lashes, and fate has already decided my role in it. 

Benji’s lips tighten to a thin line—and you would’ve thought him ashamed of you, if not for the pain glimmering in his stormy-eyes, lined with silver. “Your father,” he utters, “he will declare for Aegon Targaryen—won’t he?” 

You’re a Bracken—

You debate the merits of telling him the truth. Of betraying the plans of your house. 

—Take pride in that. 

“Aegon Targaryen is the King’s true-born son.” You speak, though you know the words are not your own. “To sit the Iron Throne is his birthright.” 

The birthright of a drunken craven. 

The betrayal of a beloved princess. 

Benji blinks. Shakes his head, his tongue darting along his lips. “He called you home to fight. Humfrey Bracken’s forgotten daughter—useful at long last.” 

Rage coils in his tone. Instinct makes your muscles tense. 

Nothing is more dangerous than this, your thoughts whisper, a Blackwood and a Bracken, toe-to-toe. 

There’s nothing dangerous about the way Benji’s looking at you, though. His gaze soft and tender, calloused hands clenched at his sides—holding himself back, you realize. Not from fighting, but from reaching out to touch something he’s not certain is his. 

“Will you do it?” Benji asks, hesitant. “Will you fight for the pretender?” 

I don’t want to, you think. 

It’s your brother's words that slip past your lips. “I have no choice. My blood runs gold, Benji—a Bracken, through-and-through.” 

His brow furrows. Then a hand shifts to the sheath at his hip, sliding his dagger free. “Give me your hand,” he orders, nodding to where they hang at your sides. 

You remember his vow to your brother—that he would let no harm befall you. Even without it, you would’ve trusted him. Wholly. Unconditionally. 

You lift your hand and, without hesitation, he grips it on his own, pinning the steel tip of his dagger against your palm. 

You hiss—hand stinging as the blade drags along your flesh, leaving a thin, shallow cut. 

“You’ve always had one foot on either side of the boundary,” Benji starts, his words rushed. Carelessly tossing the dagger to the ground, he grabs your wrist tightly, lifting your palm up towards your own face. “But your blood,” he tells you, his eyes desperate, “has always run red.” 

It drips down your wrist—a rivulet of crimson, spilling between his knuckles as he refuses to let go. Red as the color of his tunic—as the specks of blood dried on his own throat, drawn by your brother's sword. 

Gold on your back. Red in your veins. 

A Bracken by name, but… 

“It’s not too late,” Benji says, his words slow and cautious, still cradling your hand in his. “You can come back to Raventree.” Thunder rumbles. Storm-cloud eyes fall to your lips. “You can come home.” 

You think of Amos. Of your brother. You’re home now, he had said, a shadow of love in his eyes, Be glad for it. 

But home was ancient stone, crawling with moss. Home was the deep, muddy moat that you always threatened to push Benji into when he was getting on your nerves. Home was Black Aly’s voice, scolding you whenever your arms were still too weak to string a bow. 

Home was a dead weirwood tree and a boy with stormy eyes. 

But duty… 

That was something else entirely. 

Closing your hand around Benji’s, your chest fills with water as the last of the ice melts. Hard steel turns impossibly soft, your feet shuffling until your body is flush against his—still-entwined hands pinned between your chest, trapped between fabrics of gold and red. 

Benji leans down, his forehead pressing against yours. There’s nothing dangerous about him. Nothing unpredictable. 

You know him—from the crook in his nose to the scar above his lip. From the lull of his voice to the weight of his steps. His quick temper and his shy smiles. 

High above, the sky cries out. Thunder booms, lightning cracks. Misty rain turns to a violent downpour. 

And he leans in, oh-so carefully. A trembling breath against slick skin, chapped lips hovering over yours. 

“You can come home,” Benji whispers, repeating himself. You can’t think—can’t breathe, as he utters against your mouth, “Let me take you home.” 

And he kisses you. A tender, desperate kiss—the kind that drives your lips apart with the sheer force of it. He tugs his hand from yours, slips it out from between your bodies and brings it to rest on the back of your neck, tangling his fingers in damp, rain-soaked hair. 

Restraint is no more than a breath in the wind. Desire curls in your stomach. Your pulse pounds in your veins, rich with red red red. 

But then there’s your brother’s voice in your head: I don’t trust him. 

And you know what he meant was: You’re my sister—my blood, red or gold—and I’m worried about you. 

You pull away, breathless and broken, one half of your heart lying on either side of the boundary stones resting miles and miles from here. 

Lips still close enough to brush against yours, Benji pants. “Say yes.” The love in his eyes isn’t a shadow. It’s a bright, blinding light. A proud declaration and a howling plea. “Say you’ll come home.” 

You look down—to the sigil embroidered on your tunic, to the still-drying blood on your palm 

An estranged brother and a forbidden lover. 

And you. 

The bridge to a great chasm. 

The futile remedy to centuries of enmity. 

You take a step back—reaching inside of yourself, pulling shriveled vines up your throat, knowing that the words hammering in your chest will be anything but delicate. That they’ll taste of rot in your mouth. 

“I’m not sure I have a home, Benjicot.” Pain echoes across his face, each syllable a rusted dagger in his heart. Another step back, grabbing your bow from where it laid in the mud, abandoned what feels like a millennia ago. “Not anymore.” 

When you turn to leave, thunder crashing overhead and a sob caught in your throat, you go alone.

The heir to Raventree Hall doesn’t dare to follow. 

You walk in silence, your bow hanging at your side. Behind you, there are no snapping twigs and no low, careless whistling. There’s only rain and—

A branch creaks overhead, halting your steps. Your bow is drawn in a single breath, the cut on your palm stinging as you  slide an arrow from the quiver slung over your shoulder, readying to shoot. You look up, drops of rain splattering against your cheeks as you scan the trees. 

There. 

Perched on a wet, mossy limb was a pair of beady eyes staring down at you. A raven, letting out a low, curious croak. 

A single shot and you could go back to camp. 

A single shot, you tell yourself, and your blood might finally run gold. 

A breath—and then the bow string goes slack. 

You slip the arrow back into the quiver.

a/n - does any of this even make sense? idk, you tell me lmao. overall, just wanted to play around with capturing the confusion that might ensue for a reader who has no clue where their loyalties lie anymore, lost in who they are and who they think they're meant to be--anyways, hopefully the ending makes sense to you because it makes sense in my brain

anyways

benji tag list (so sorry if I missed you!) - @jacaerysgf @lenasvoid @valdezthg @xzydra11 @snixx2088 @lianna75 @kennafild @ghostinvenus @heystaystray @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @a-song-for-ages

[crookedteethed]

ᡣ𐭩 who do you love? . • ° 　 .　 *　: r. cameron

synopsis -- mistress! reader goes bonkers and films a surprise video for Rafe and his wife's anniversary. ۶ৎ

warnings -- 18+-mdni, smut (unprotected p i v), breeding kink, video voyeurism, infidelity, mention of alcohol usage, age gap, cursing, pussy whipped! rafe, homegirl is... yeah

other woman masterlist |taglist | based on this ask | wc: 1.7k

You knew exactly what you were doing when you typed her name into Facebook's search bar. Your fingers moved with purpose, guided by an obsession you couldn't shake.

There it was - Rafe's wife's profile, and right at the top, exactly what you'd been hunting for: a fresh post celebrating their decade of marriage, complete with a photo from their younger days when their love still seemed pure and untainted. You stared at their beaming faces, letting the bitterness wash over you.

Each scroll feels like turning a knife in your own heart, but you can't stop.

Their life unfolds before you like some twisted fairy tale: Rafe teaching their daughter to ride a bike, their annual trips to the Maldives, their matching Christmas sweaters with those damn Dobermans.

And her—always her—wearing that diamond tennis bracelet you once saw in his browser history, claiming the life that should have been yours.

This should be me, the thought burns like acid.

Your fingers hover over a photo of their Mediterranean cruise, her perfectly manicured hand resting on his chest, that massive engagement ring catching the sunset.

She has everything: the weekend brunches at that fancy place downtown, the Range Rover you've seen in their driveway, the three beautiful children with his eyes, the garden parties you watch from afar, and him—God, especially him.

The life that slipped through your fingers because of timing and trust funds. She had everything you didn't: old money, country club connections, and most crucially—age.

While you were still learning to drive, she was already the perfect socialite, the appropriate choice for a man of Rafe's standing. The Seventeen-year age gap between you and Rafe might as well have been an ocean—one that she had already crossed long before you even learned to swim.

Sometimes you wonder if that's what drew him to you in the first place: your youth, your naivety, everything that made you so different from her. Everything that ultimately made you impossible.

Your wine glass is empty again. When did that happen?

A tear escaped your eye as jealousy carved deeper into your chest, the pain spreading until you could barely breathe. Your trembling fingers found your phone, muscle memory still remembering his number after all these years. You knew it was wrong—God, you knew—but you pressed call anyway.

One ring. Two rings. Your heart threatened to burst.

"Hello?" His voice, still so familiar, sent electricity through your body.

"I—" your voice cracked, "I need to see you, Rafe. Please. I can't… I can't stop thinking about you, and I'm so alone tonight. Please come over, I need you."

The silence that followed felt eternal—like light years away, stretching between your world and his, filled with everything unsaid.

You could picture him there, standing in his perfect house with his perfect family just rooms away, probably running his fingers through his hair the way he always did when he was conflicted.

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you heard him move, presumably stepping outside or into his study. Then came that familiar sound—the slow exhale through his nose that you remembered from countless late nights together, when difficult decisions hung in the air between you.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, rough with something that might have been regret or desire or both: "I'm on my way."

Three simple words that shattered whatever remained of your resolve. You ended the call before he could change his mind, before reality could catch up to either of you, before guilt could claw its way back in.

Your hands shook as you set the phone down, knowing that in fifteen minutes—twenty at most—you'd hear his car in your driveway, and everything would change again.

When he steps through your door, the world narrows to just this: his loosened tie, your trembling hands, the soft thud as his back hits the wall. "We shouldn't," he whispers, even as his fingers dig into your hips, even as he pulls you closer.

You silence his protest with a kiss that tastes like regret and wanting, knowing tomorrow will bring guilt but tonight—tonight belongs to muscle memory and bad decisions.

Your hands roam greedily over each other, ripping clothes away with primal urgency. Your mouths hungrily devour one another, teeth nipping at lips as you guide him to the bedroom. Your heart races with desire and anticipation, knowing what awaits in the heat of passion.

The phone you carefully propped against the lamp earlier blinks silently in the darkness, its camera catching everything. You position him perfectly in its view, letting him think it's just desire guiding your movements.

"God, I've missed you," he breathes against your collar bone, completely unaware that every word, every moan, every mistake is being captured. You almost feel guilty—almost.

Then you think of her Facebook shrine to their perfect marriage, and something shifts inside you—guilt crystallizing into purpose.

Your phone keeps recording in the darkness, anticipating to capture every betrayal, every whispered confession.

Soon, her perfectly filtered life won't matter anymore. Soon, you'll have something far more precious than any photograph: Rafe—cornered, desperate, and finally yours.

Without hesitation, you shoved Rafe onto your queen size bed. Straddling his naked body, you disregarded any notion of foreplay.

As much as you craved the feeling of his tongue on your clit or his thick fingers probing you, all that mattered was having Rafe's cock buried in your cunt.

"Damn, you weren't kidding. You really do need me," Rafe smirked as his palm immediately found its way to your dripping core, but to your dismay was swatted away.

With a seductive grin, cooed in your sweet, high-pitched voice that made Rafe's brain mush. "Un huh, now be a good boy and let me take care of myself," you purred, guiding his rock-hard cock to the entrance of your wetness.

"Are you going to let me do that?" Your tone was condescending, but it only fueled the intense desire between you both, and because Rafe's mind turned to mush the moment you said you needed him, he nodded, totally pussy whipped and enamored by you.

The sharp gasp that escaped both of your lips was matched only by the intensity of your desire.

Slowly, you sank down onto Rafe's throbbing cock, savoring the feeling of him stretching you just as he always did.

"You're so tight, baby," he groaned out, his voice dripping with lust.

As you remembered the phone set up hidden by your side table lamp, a mischievous thought crossed your mind:

"Am I tighter than your wife?" you asked, already beginning to rock your hips on his length. Naturally, Rafe's hands found their way to your waist, not to guide you but to bring you closer to his lips.

"So much tighter, shit," he breathed out between hot kisses, with each agonizing slow rock.

"You're gonna leave her for me, huh?" you asked, face to face with Rafe, cradling his jaw to peck his lips. Slowly, you began to pick up the pace. 

Your rhythmic movements escalate into frenzied bouncing, his hard length molding perfectly to your slick walls, stretching you to the limit. You lift yourself up and press down on Rafe's chest for leverage, driving him deeper and harder into you

Rafe's eyes rolled back as you bounced harder, your pussy gripping him like a vice. "Fuck, I… I don't know," he groaned, his hips bucking up to meet your thrusts.

You leaned down, your breasts brushing against his chest as you whispered in his ear, "Come on, baby. Tell me you'll leave her. Tell me I'm the only one you want." Your walls clenched around him for emphasis, drawing a strangled moan from his lips.

"God, yes," Rafe panted, completely lost in the sensation of your tight heat enveloping him. "I'll leave her. You're all I want, fuck!"

Hearing those words sent a thrill through you. You began to bounce faster, slamming yourself down onto his thick cock with abandon. Your breasts bounced enticingly and Rafe reached up to cup them, pinching your nipples between his fingers.

"Say it again," you demanded breathlessly, grinding your hips in circles. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours, baby," Rafe panted, thrusting up to meet your movements. "All fucking yours."

You leaned down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your tongue tangling with his as you continued to ride him relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your shared moans of pleasure.

"Gonna cum for me?" you asked, clenching your walls around him. "Gonna fill me up? Gonna give me one of your babies?"

"Yeah, gonna stuff your sweet pussy with my hot load, fuck, I'm about to explode," Rafe moaned, his nails digging into your flesh, leaving red marks on your hips.

You reached down to rub tight circles on your clit, chasing your own release. "Me too, don't stop," you gasped.

With a few more forceful thrusts, you both toppled over the brink together, moaning in bliss as powerful waves of pleasure engulfed you. Rafe followed suit, releasing his hot and sticky load inside you, filling you up completely.

The afterglow lasts exactly thirty seconds before Rafe is already reaching for his clothes, his movements quick and efficient like this is just another business meeting wrapping up, breathing hasn't even steadied.

"I need to get back," he says, checking his watch. "We have dinner reservations at La Maison."

"Of course. The anniversary dinner." Your voice sounds hollow even to your own ears. "Rafe?" He pauses, shirt half-buttoned. "Did you mean any of it? What you said while we were…?"

He crosses the room, cups your face, and plants a soft kiss on your lips—the kind that feels like goodbye. Then he's gone, the front door clicking shut behind him.

You sit in the twisted sheets, his warmth already fading, listening to his car fade into the distance. Your hands shake as you reach for your phone and stop the recording. The email address you've had memorized for months appears in the recipient field without hesitation. You attach the video—forty-three minutes of undeniable truth—and watch the upload bar creep forward. In the subject line, you type five words that will demolish their perfect life: "Happy Anniversary, From Us Both."

Your finger hovers over 'send' for just a heartbeat before pressing down. Let her enjoy those reservation plans now.

Now he'll have to choose, you think, watching the loading bar reach 100%. And this time, he'll choose me.

a/n -- thanks for making it to the end, as always all likes comments, and reblogs keeps me motivated! 💕🫶🏾

taglist --

@rafestoothbrush @alexxavicry @trapistani @Hejsj @neslayuh @hotvampdragon @alyisdead @jelybely @elmolovesw33d @littlelamy @futuremrscameron @percysley @rrafeswhore

[adoristsposts]

all the seasons | quinn hughes

author's note; guys i fear i may be coming back with my first non-song-inspired quinn hughes fanfic... and it's loooong. anything can be a oneshot if you post it all at once, right? summary; when stumbling upon quinn hughes seems to become a year-round habit, it's hard to deny that maybe fate might be pushing the two of you together. word count; 4.7k warnings; a little bit of purple prose probably idk i've been writing this on and off. swearing + mentions of drinking

winter

There is a large chance, you realise, that Quinn Hughes will not like you as much as your best friend has been assuring you. Cole, of course, is beaming at you like he knows some shit is going to go down. The idiot. It had taken a lot of groveling for him to convince you to come - and a lot of whining about how all the other 'old farts' on the team would bore him to death with hockey talk and flaunt their hot girlfriends, making him miss his hot girlfriend who had flown home for Christmas. All of it had ended in the promise that you would get to talk puck with your favourite players and he would buy all your drinks at the bar the eldest Hughes brother had rented out. You had agreed reluctantly. Cole was hard to say no to. After you had spilled hot chocolate all over him his first year in Vancouver and begged him to send you the dry cleaning bill, you had become a bit of a lifeline to the boy. You became someone whose apartment he stayed in whenever he was called up to the Canucks, and someone to drive the long commute to his weekend games. The two of you had become inseparable. Well, separable only by the distance between Vancouver and Abbotsford that you refused to cross on workdays. Recently called up, and staying in the guest room next to yours, Cole had been invited to the Canucks' Christmas party. A party "usually organized by Millsy's wife, but she's like, sick or something" Cole had explained to you. Therefore the responsibility fell on Quinn Hughes. "What are you all stressed about?" Cole asked, looking up from his phone and settling his gaze on you. You had been lost in your thoughts, listening to the hum of the Uber's engine and the quiet radio the driver was playing. "Dude," You breathed out, "I'm going to puke." "You are not" He said, well aware of your dramatics, "going to puke. You will be fine, they'll love you." "In ten minutes I have to talk to the Vancouver Canucks. The captain of the Vancouver Canucks. I deal with enough talking to you." You hissed out, glancing at the Uber. Was this information safe to share? Should you be worried he was going to dox the Christmas party address? Oh, God save us all. Happy birthday, Jesus. Thanks a lot. Cole laughed at you "Would you chill out? I keep telling you Quinn will love you." "I'm chilling out, I promise," You breathed, "Just thinking about all those drinks you're going to buy me." "Alright, alright."

Ten minutes later the two of you were clambering out of the Uber. "Do I look okay?" You asked him, adjusting your dress. He just shrugged and let out a grunt that almost sounded like an 'I don't know.' You rolled your eyes at him but followed him as he led you towards an eerily quiet bar. It was obvious it had been booked for a private event, but the missing element of drunk people lining the streets outside of it made the whole thing feel a little out of place. A pub for Christmas? Cole opened the door for you, allowing you to step inside first and take the place in. Whoever Quinn had hired had done a great job - red tinsel was strewn about just about anywhere it could go. Christmas decorations lined the bar, as well as a handful of Menorahs and other Hannukah decorations. The whole place was alive already. You and Cole were fashionably late, you presumed. "Let's say hi to Quinn" Cole said, pressing a hand against your upper back to help lead you towards the Captain. You wouldn't have needed the help. For God knows whatever reason, Quinn basically shone in gold to you. His face was flushed and his hair slightly sweaty from the pure heat radiating throughout the place. There was a lopsided grin on his face as he smiled at whatever joke the man across from him was telling. The bar lights, slightly tinged red, fell over him like water that cascaded down his strong nose, off his shoulders, and over his body. It was a pull you had never felt before, one that made you forget about the fact Cole was literally pushing you towards the man. Quinn's gaze slid away from his conversation and across the room, obviously taking note of if everything was running well. For a moment it scanned over you before coming back. And for a second, it was like everything in the world fell into place. Almost as if he felt it too, his lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed. Or, perhaps, you realized, he was wondering 'Who the fuck is this girl at my party?' "Quinn!" Cole greeted happily, darting out from behind you and giving the man a hug. Over Cole's shoulder, Quinn held you in a quizzical stare. When he pulled away, he asked, "Who are you?" Cole laughed awkwardly at the blunt question. "This is my friend I was telling you about. The one from Vancouver?" Quinn's face showed no sign of recognising or remembering any mention of a 'friend from Vancouver.' Instead he just stared. It was stranger, probably, that you just stared back. "Okay..." Cole said, glancing between the two of you. "I'm going to go get a drink. You want anything?" "Whatever you think I'd like." You said, finally breaking your gaze to give Cole an appreciative smile. He gave you an odd look and then backed away before fully turning around and heading towards the bar. Just you and Quinn now. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name." Quinn said. His face still held a look of perplexity. He looked so intently at you that you felt like he was trying to figure out if he recognised you from somewhere. You gave it to him, lips curling up as he nodded at the information like it was some interesting fact. "I'm Quinn. I mean- Cole just said it but.. I'm Quinn." You laughed. It really wasn't that funny, but it bubbled out of you before you could stop it. "Hi Quinn."

A few drinks later and you and the captain of the Vancouver Canucks that you were so anxious to meet had been glued at the hip for hours, talking about anything and everything you two could think of. You had wandered out to the outdoor seating of the bar. It was entirely empty, thanks to the freezing conditions of a Vancouver winter that everyone inside was trying to escape from. But you had discovered throughout the night that the heat in your cheeks seemed forever present around Quinn, and the cold air was like a soothing kiss. "Are you cold?" He asked you. "No, are you?" You asked back, eyeing his red nose and bouncing leg. He smiled and shook his head. It was quiet out here. Conversation in the bar had gotten difficult the rowdier everyone had gotten. Cole had long left you two, pouty that you wouldn't save him from awkward conversations he couldn't relate to about marriage and kids with the older guys. Quinn's hand on the railing brushed against yours. "Listen, I don't really know how to approach the topic, but do you think I could get your-" "There you are!" If you could pick a time and place for a person to drop dead, you would pick right here, right now, and Cole McWard. "I've been looking for you everywhere. I am desperate to go home- No offense Quinn, the party's great." "Okay, okay," You said, "Right now?" "The Uber's outside. I've been frantically searching for you ever since I realized you and Huggy here had left your little corner." Shit. Okay. You turned to Quinn. Even at the sight of him, a stupid grin broke out on your face. There was something romantic about him that you couldn't quite place, like it was written all over his face that he should be the star in some cheesy movie about loving and loving hard. "See you around?" You said. "See you around."

"Did you get his number?" Cole asked in the Uber. "No," You sighed, "And fuck. 'Cause he's hot." "If it's meant to be, it'll be." He shrugged.

spring

April hit like a drug. After a few weeks of pining over Quinn Hughes (who had chased Cole down to ask if you were single and then gone radio silent), and then a few hours of remembering you were single and didn't have to care, the first few months of the year had flown by. Work had been hectic, and you loved it. You navigated the isles of the florist's shop, on call with Cole through your headphones. You made a beeline to the lilies, choosing the pink ones and complaining to Cole about some client of yours that had been beyond difficult. "Seems to me like you need to lock Hughesy down and retire so you take all this over-achiever energy and put into being the captain's wife." Cole snorted. You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you, "I told you, I'm over that." "You were like, in love with the man." "And he did nothing about it!" You exclaimed, walking up to the cashier and paying for them. You mouthed a quiet thank you and moved on. "He literally always asks me about you." "Yeah, on the rare occasion you get called up. I think that's just called small talk." You huffed. Cole sighed, "Listen, just... I don't know. You guys seemed good together. It'll happen." And then he ruined the moment by quoting Surf's Up "I can feel it in my nuggets." You snorted at him. "Whatever, it's whatever. I've got to get home, I'll call you later, okay?" "Okay, bye." He hung up quickly. No drawn out goodbyes for you two. With a start, you realized you had forgotten to ask him if he had remembered to set aside a ticket for you for his game Saturday. You quickly pulled up your messages, typing out the question for him. About to hit send you- A grunt and the feeling of the hard pavement on your ass stopped you before you could. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, that's totally my fault and- Quinn?" You were surprised by the blue eyes that stared at you as you pick yourself up. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, then open, then shut, like a fish. You furrowed your eyebrows at him. "Are you alright?" He stuttered to life, like a machine rebooting. "Yes! Um, yeah, I'm all good. I haven't seen you since..." "Since the Christmas party." You finished for him. You wanted to press your lips into a thin line, tell him to have a good life, and move on. God, you wanted to. But something about Quinn made your brain muddled. You smiled at him. He smiled back. "Want to grab a coffee? I can buy you some flowers to make up for the ones I just crushed." True to his observations, the lilies you had just bought were bent out of shape from hitting the floor with you. "Yeah. That would be nice."

Quinn Hughes, you were beginning to realise, was easy to stare at. It was like every part of his face was designed with some gravitational pull that just beckoned you closer and closer until you were entirely enamoured with the way his mouth curled as he talked. You didn't realise the conversation went quiet until it did, too busy staring to clock that he had finished talking. He cleared his throat and you broke out of your trance. "Sorry." You said. "Listen.." Quinn trailed off. You were a little afraid he was going to call you out and tell you that you were making him uncomfortable. "That night. The Christmas party- God, I hope I don't come on too strong here but.. We were good, right? There was some crazy, cosmic connection. Please tell me I didn't make that up." It was like the air had been sucked out of the room and forced into your lungs. You wanted to call all your friends who had told you that 'delusional doesn't get anyone anywhere' and tell them that he had felt it too. The feeling that before you locked eyes the world hadn't moved, hadn't been set in motion until you knew the feeling of his gaze on you and yours on him. You wanted to cry out, 'Yes, you idiot', but instead you settled for a smile and "I felt it, trust me." "I was going to ask for your number, but Cole interrupted and I felt like maybe it was a sign that I wasn't ready for you yet. Like maybe the universe was telling me to wait for you. God I sound like such an idiot. And if I freak you out and you turn me down just know I will still replace those flowers," He was talking slowly, sure of himself, "But I would really like your number now. If you and the Universe want me to. Have your number, that is." You placed a hand over his, hoping that the sign of interest would get him to stop rambling. "Firstly, my lilies better be replaced. And secondly, you could've had my number at the party, universe be damned, but I'm just as happy to give it to you now"

summer

There was nothing that compared to the absolute defeat reflected in Quinn's face as he wrung his hands sitting on the couch. An injury for earlier in the season had flared up again, leaving him scratched from the second round of the playoffs- a round that the Canucks were struggling in without their Captain. It stressed you out to see him so stressed out. And you honestly had no clue what you were supposed to do. Since exchanging numbers, the two of you had done just about everything other than put a label on what you were. It was terrifying and exhilarating and you didn't know if you should turn the television off or not to spare Quinn from what was beginning to turn into a nasty loss. It killed him to not be able to fly out for the away game, to not be able to be there for his team. Having him play through his injury had left him sidelined for weeks, and not allowing that injury to fully heal before he picked up his stick again had bothered him until finally the medical team had to force him to rest. Even now you knew he'd be laced up and on the ice in seconds if he could be. "You alright?" You asked him, "Need any ice or heat or anything?" Your apartment had become his over the past few months. His gear had a permanent spot in your coat closet and his Yankees cap hung up next to your Abbotsford one. And now everything Quinn-care was stored around the place. He grunted in response, eyes still glued to the screen. "Quinn." "Jesus, what?" He snapped. At least he broke his gaze from the TV. Immediately, he softened. "Sorry. I'm alright, thank you. I'm sorry." You moved from your station behind the kitchen counter and sat next to him on the couch. "I know it sucks." You told him. "It's one more week. I want you healed, Quinn. You gotta help me here." "I know, I know." He pressed his lips into a thin smile, grabbing your hand and turning back to the game. He stroked circles onto the back of your hand. Even with the ups and downs of the game, they never lost their rhythm.

You fell asleep listening to the hum of the commentators and the sounds of skates and sticks on the ice. When you woke up, Quinn was texting furiously, the pads of his thumbs beating on his phone in an almost soothing dance. "Everything alright?" He didn't turn. "Yeah, babe." "How was the game?" "They lost. Sorry- give me a second, I'm texting the groupchat." You hummed in response, not bothering to talk. He was lost to the hockey he was replaying in his mind. Over and over on a loop until he felt he had identified what went wrong and how he could fix it. You unfurled yourself from your place amongst the pillows and rose, your bones cracking and groaning in pleasure from getting out of the position. You padded to the windows, closing them. They had been open to release some of the heat in your apartment, but now all you wanted to do was sleep without worrying about pesky insects getting in. When you turned back to the couch Quinn was still typing. "I'm going to bed, you coming?" You asked him. He turned and gave you his big stupid grin that hung lopsidedly on his face. "In a minute. Don't wait up, okay? I know you have work tomorrow." "'kay" You wandered into your bedroom, slipping yourself into your sheets. Over the past few months of seeing each other it had become near impossible for you to sleep without the white noise of Quinn's quiet snores next to you. Roadies were beginning to genuinely impact your functionality at work, with the lack of sleep and following overconsumption of caffeine messing with you. Quinn was the complete opposite of everything you had searched for. Being best friends with Cole, you knew what dating a hockey player was like. And you had been adamant you didn't want anything like it. His schedule made everything about dating difficult- not to mention the added privacy that was required in his situation. On top of it, he was entirely enamoured with hockey. When you caught him zoning out during movies or taking a little too long to reply in conversation, you knew he was just dreaming of it in the same way he had his whole life. It was what made him so undeniably talented on the ice. And as a fan of the sport yourself, you understood. And God help you, you forgave. Because you wanted nothing other than him. The boy had tainted you completely. If you ever had to date again, if the two of you never did label anything and just fizzled out, he would have ruined you for anyone else. There was no one else with his passion and dedication. His ability to take charge and make the best of difficult situations. And no one who made you feel so whole. He was far from what you were looking for, but he was what you needed. A man. One that was still texting his groupchat as you drifted closer to sleep without the heat of his body next to you. But twenty or so minutes later you felt the brush of a kiss at your temple and the familiar dip of the bed as Quinn slipped into his side. And you fully fell asleep to the smell of his cologne and the feeling of his chest against your back.

fall

"You're going to be my wife." Quinn cooed. You turned around from your seat in front of your vanity, narrowing your eyes at him. "Quinn, what?" You were shocked at the statement. Also shocked at the fact that you didn't quite hate the idea. The two of you had become official a month or so back, and the four weeks had felt exactly like the four weeks before it: calm and blissful. He was smirking at you from the bed. You studied his face. You had never been more obsessed with someone's face. You could probably close your eyes and still accurately point to where his beauty mark was, you were so obsessed. There was something so romantic about him. It opened a pit in your stomach and swallowed you whole. You were like a teenage girl with a crush. Quite literally weak in the knees at your big-girl age of 23. "You're going to be my wife." He repeated, rising from where he sat on the edge of your bed. You turned back to your vanity, allowing him to plant both hands on the back of your chair and lock eyes with you in the mirror. "My wife." He said. Third times the charm, you suppose, as the reality of how insane he sounded hit you. "Your wife?" You almost snorted, "Is this a proposal after one month, Hughes? You know you're yet to even meet my parents." "I've met them!" He defended, "Over the phone- that is so not the point." You rolled your eyes at him. "It's also not a proposal. I just know." At your unimpressed look, he said "The universe, baby." "Sure, Hughesy. Are you ready to go?" You and Quinn were heading out to your last dinner of the pre-season. Getting ramped back up had been difficult with off-season trades and signings and finding the chemistry in a practically new team had taken it's toll on Quinn. But the pressure would be tenfold once the season started. The players and fans were ravenous for a cup. Years of hard work were starting to pay off with better records and longer playoff runs, and you knew that when Quinn closed his eyes at night he was dreaming of that pretty piece of metal. One that, you had admitted to him while drawing patterns on his chest, you had always wanted to be able to kiss like all your hockey idols before you. "I'll get it for you" He had said like it was a shiny piece of jewelry. "You better" You had replied, sealing the promise with a kiss. "Yeah, I'm all ready, pretty lady."

winter

"Happy three years" Quinn smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. You laughed at him, "What are you talking about? Put your shoes on." The two of you were on your way to the Canuck's annual Christmas party. This was your first year sharing the responsibility with JT Miller's wife. You still weren't quite ready to fully take on the role. Although the woman insisted you would have been fine on your own and seemed a little eager to officially pass the mantle of party-planner onto you. Quinn was still staring at you. "The uber is here, you goof" You tugged him by his shirt out of the door. "We're going to be late." "Happy three year," He repeated. "What? Our anniversary is in September" "We met three years ago. Happy three years, my love." You stopped in your tracks. "Oh my god, Quinn, I'm so sorry - I didn't even realise." He smiled at you. Three years in and that look still made you melt. His hair was freshly washed, and the wet strands fell across his forehead like they were styled to look perfectly messy. His ever-scruffy facial hair seemed custom made to frame his perfect smile. "If you don't stop looking at me like that, we're going to miss the Uber and the party. That I planned" You put an emphasis on the last part like it would deter him at all. You had left a couple 'you' planned parties because he wouldn't stop looking at you a certain way. Being in love had never been so entirely overwhelming for you before. You could remember when you met him like it was yesterday. The electricity that charged between you two. The feeling that your heart was trying to claw itself out of your body so it could get to his. It was nothing you had felt before and something you had felt every day since. He grabbed your waist with one of his hands. One of the many things Quinn brought up when he raved about fate and the universe was the fact that he claimed you fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. That it was his "God-given spot." The sap. You felt the same, secretly. "Happy three years," He said, still giving you that fucking smile. You tilted your head to look up at him. Lifting to your toes so you could reach him comfortably, you pressed your lips against his. He parted his lips quickly, a hand making it's way to your chin to angle you into the perfect position. The kiss got passionate fast, and your hands explored his chest, smoothing over his pecs. One wandered over his shoulder, pulling him into you, while the other grabbed a fistful of the flannel he had thrown on over his long-sleeve.

The buzzing of your phone interrupted you. He tried to chase your lips with his as you pulled away, but you gave him a playfully stern look and he gave up. "The uber is literally texting me, Quinn, we have to go." "I have the flu." "You do not." "I'm very truthfully ill. I don't think I should risk giving it to my teammates and their girlfriends. I think we should stay home." You quirked an eyebrow, "We? I can go without you." "If I'm sick, so are you." "You are not sick, Quinn." "Oh I am. Outrageously so. The Scarlett Fever, I think." "Quinn," You laughed. "The Bubonic Plague." "Come on." "Marry me." "We're- What?" Quinn hadn't faltered at all. "Let's miss the Uber. Marry me." "Quinn, what? Are you still joking?" His face paled a little at the question, "Why? Do you not want to?" You swatted his shoulder, "Obviously I want to. This is so not a funny joke." He looked into the hallway past you, like he was scanning for an aggravated Uber driver coming in to drag his customers into his car. "Wait here." You opened your mouth to protest that you really truly were going to be late now, but he was already thundering back towards your apartment. He rushed in, the door not even having enough time to click behind him before he raced back out. In his hand was a black velvet box. "I was waiting for a good opportunity. I thought maybe when I got you that Stanley Cup. Or at the lake, but I couldn't wait that long." "Quinn" You breathed out. "I love you. So much. And I know I've said a million times that I'm going to marry you, but this time I'm asking for real. Marry me? We can have a big wedding with everyone from the team and a crazy venue and my mom can fuss over your bridesmaids so you don't have to and Cole can even be your Man of Honour. Or we can have a tiny, courthouse wedding with just you and me- and maybe Jack and Luke. I don't care. Just marry me?" You had expected, your whole life, that the world would spin on its axel the day you got engaged. You had thought profusely about this exact moment, and how everything would change, and wondered if your husband-to-be would pick the perfect ring. But you didn't even care if Quinn ever opened the box. If it was the ugliest thing you'd ever seen in your life. And it didn't feel like the air had left your lungs, and it didn't feel like everything was changing. It felt like everything was slotting in where it was supposed to be - and this was your place. Maybe not in your dingy apartment that you loved too much to move out of for your boyfriend Quinn (a problem that would not arise for your fiancee Quinn, you realised as you began to dream of a gorgeous house and a few little Hughes running around that most certainly would not fit in your one-bedroom one-bathroom) but your place with him, however you could have him. You couldn't even get the words out, opting instead for a tearful nod. Quinn surged to you, wrapping his arms around you. Overcome with emotions, you practically collapsed. Quinn helped you lower yourself to the floor. You grabbed for him, taking a fistful of his shirt and using it to pull his lips to yours. "I love you," You murmured against them, "And we are totally missing this party." He laughed in response, pulling away and pressing his forehead to yours. "Absolutely. Now get this ring on and let's get off this gross floor, yeah?" Your face hurt from smiling, but your grin somehow got even wider. "Yeah."

[ichxraaa]

𝘼 𝙎𝙄𝙈𝙋𝙇𝙀 𝙁𝘼𝙑𝙊𝙍

↪︎ featuring fake dating!megumi fushiguro x reader

warnings; mentions of asshole ex!boyfriend, tad bit of violence from megumi's part

thinking back, maybe asking megumi to help you pretending to be your boyfriend when meeting you ex, might not have been the best idea when tensions start running high

☰ reblogs and comments are widely appreciated!

Your fingertips tap on the empty table as you stare at Megumi. Are you gonna do it? You don’t wanna do it. You’d very much rather not have to do it.

You know you are staring but Megumi doesn’t seem to notice or doesn't really care as he passes the pages of his book in such a delicate manner that it feels religious. He is wearing a blank expression and his lips are almost a straight line, the only hint that he is enjoying his book is his focused gaze as his eyes devour the words in front of him.

There's a red cup at the table in front of him, whatever he is drinking is hot enough to emit a spiraling string of steam upwards. There are several loose strands on the sleeves of his fluffy green sweater and as usual, you end up wondering what it would be like to run your fingers across the fabric.

The almost empty room, except for the two of you, is chilly enough to remind you of the autumnal season and you sink into your jacket as you feel goosebumps rising on your arms. There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you and you feel almost guilty for disrupting it, but desperate times call for desperate measures. 

You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the fact that you are desperate, but after getting an apologetic text from Yuuji about not being able to help you out this time, you are left with no other options. 

It has to be him.

It’s nearly 6 O’ Clock and you’re still debating if you should change into a different outfit. The fit seems okay and you feel pretty on it, but the face of your ex inevitably comes to mind as you throw on your favorite jacket. You exhale a long sigh as you check your hair once again. This was a bad idea.

You’ve always known Megumi is handsome. You’ve known him for nearly a decade now and you’ve witnessed several attempts at getting a shot with him. He has those long lashes and deep eyes, he has the hair and the face, he is tall and carries himself in a quiet manner that is not enough to cover his presence. Yeah, you’ve always known and thought that he is very handsome but you’re not prepared for the experience of walking with him by your side as he holds your hand as the two of you advance through the streets of Roppongi. 

Heads turn as you pass by them, and you even catch a couple of jealous looks as you stop for a moment to wait for the green light. 

You double-check both sides of the road before advancing and Megumi tightens his hold of you as you walk among the crowd. You feel a bit dizzy and try to put in the back of your mind the little crush you used to have on him. Truth is if it weren’t for your ex you’d probably still pining over the dark-haired man. You shake your head, trying to get rid of the fluttering weight on your stomach because you don’t like feeling like an infatuated teenager again. As you near your final destination your stomach begins to feel heavy for different reasons.

You are very grateful for Megumi’s calmness at this moment because as soon as you reach the restaurant and you catch a glimpse of your friends through the large windows of the place you can feel your palms going sweaty.

“I’m sorry,” you quip while cleaning off the perspiration against the fabric of your jacket after rushing to free his hand from your grip. “I feel so stupid right now, maybe we should leave”.

You don’t really know it, but Megumi can see every spiraling thought that you’re having written on your features and it’s not about to let you dwell on it. He puts a stop to your myriad of thoughts while holding your hand once again and driving you inside the cozy atmosphere of the restaurant. 

This is the first time you see your ex since your nasty breakup. He is right at the head of the table laughing condescendingly at some harmless comment that he probably thought was too deep. How and why did you used to think he was smart is beyond your reasoning.

“Thanks again for doing this''. You quickly murmur as you reach your table. Megumi’s eyes immediately fall into your exes' eyes, an almost bored expression showing on his face that doesn’t falter as your ex tries to aggressively look into Megumi’s eyes.

But you know him too well, and you can see the displeasure in his eyes as he stares at the two of you together. You cozy up closer to Megumi, pressing to his side as you smile radiantly at your other friends at the table. As if you hadn’t cried for him for over a month after your break up.

“Hi guys! Sorry for being late, the train got delayed. By the way, this is Megumi Fushiguro”.

“So this is the mysterious new boyfriend!” Says Yuki, nearly squealing with excitement as she stands and introduces everyone to Megumi.  She has remained one of your closest friends from before your Jujutsu days and is always ready to have your back.

“Nice to meet you all”. Says Fushiguro, looking for a moment longer into your ex's eyes as he speaks.

“Oh! He has a good voice!” Quips Aki, another friend from middle school. 

“You went to the same school that y/n, right, Fushiguro-kun?” Asks Yuki, big brown eyes very attentive to Megumi’s answer. 

“Yes”.

The rest of the table remains quiet, probably waiting for a longer answer but Fushiguro limits himself to blink slowly, and you have to admire his seeming impassiveness at the very obvious curiosity in the penetrating gazes he is receiving.

Yuki, bless her heart, laughs unapologetically and claps her hands. “Okay, okay. I see you are very chatty, Fushiguro-kun! Guys, scoot over so they can sit, or are you planning on interrogating them standing?”

For a moment you are startled by the ease at his movement as he places his hand on the wider part of your hips, a firm hand leading you to your seats as if he’s done it a thousand times, and yet you move without giving it a second thought.

As the night passes you are no longer surprised by Megumi’s organic behavior, but by your own compliance. There hasn’t been a moment where you’ve felt uncomfortable, on the contrary, you’ve been easing more and more into the act:

Leaning into his chest as his arm hangs around your shoulders, whispering in his ears when the music and your friend's laughs get a bit too loud, face leaning into his touch as he fixes your hair for you. 

The night is going great, you can barely remember how nervous you were to ask for Megumi´s help, too afraid to not have Yuuji by your side and anxious as hell to see Ryotaro again.  

Actually, you haven't even had time to worry about him, too immersed in catching up with your old friends and too distracted by the heat on Megumi’s hand clasping your own.

“What kind of name is Megumi, anyway?”

The table goes quiet as Ryotaro spits his question in a tone that it’s not polite enough to completely cover his irritation. 

You sit tense now, back rigid and separating from your friend who seems unbothered by the question, and even pulling you closer to him by gently pressing you back into his chest again, green eyes looking at your ex with the same disgust one looks at a particularly ugly worm.

“It’s just a name”.

“Yeah, a woman’s name”.

 Blood travels to your face in a rush of heat produced by the surge of annoyance through your veins.

“Seriously, Ryotaro?”

“It’s just a question”, his hands go up in defense, but you perfectly distinguish the undertone of amusement behind his false apologetic tone. “You don’t have to get defensive over him”.

“Then you shouldn’t be such a jerk”.

“Gosh, do you always have to be so damn emotional?” He leans back in his chair, eyes piercing through you with that ugly frown of his that has a lump forming at your throat, “You’re gonna pop a vein over me asking a simple question”.

“Shut up”. The whole table that had been nervously watching the interaction goes completely quiet when Megumi speaks, voice so gelid that even you are taken aback.

“What did you just say, pretty girl?”

Megumi is unfazed by his comment once again,  but you still jump to stop him.

“That’s enough Ryotaro, grow up”. 

Ryotaro completely ignores your intervention, gaze fixed on Megumi’s impassive one and then on the space of your joined hands atop of the table.

“It’s a simple question, no need to be a bitch about it”.

You feel it before he moves, and as Megumi stands in a swift and strong movement you stand up with him, hands flying to his chest to keep him in place cause you can see his intent to jump.

This is a side of him you’ve only heard of in passing, about the delinquent Megumi that used to go beating around people he disliked, you’ve been on so many missions and have watched him remain calm in nearly impossible situations so this is new, and at the same time you can´t help but feel incredibly touched by his reaction.

Even when you have seen him push himself over the limit during a battle, it was that, a battle, justified and normal rage that  sometimes you need to get you through a desperate situation. But this feels raw, and the glint in his eyes, the one he gets prior to the first strike,  you know it too well, so you can see that he is eager to act.

You call his name but he doesn’t budge, and you can see his hands have turned into fists. You know Ryotaro doesn't think Megumi is gonna punch him, too used to being himself all bark and no bite, and suddenly it dawns on you how pathetic he really is.

And you start laughing, you don’t mean to, but you can’t stop, and that puts Megumi’s attention back on you, his stare clearly asking what is going through your mind.

Yuki has reached your side and is asking if you are okay, you can only nod cause your laughter has turned into a full on cackling, a waiter arrives and announces your tuna mayo sushi is ready and this time Megumi smiles with you.

“N-never mind Fushiguro, he is too- much of Tuna Mayo for you to care about him” you manage to wheeze and Megumi chuckles alongside you.

“The fuck are you talking about?!” Yells Ryotaro and Yuki has to tell him to settle down, but the lack of attention is getting to him, this is clearly not the answer he was expecting and that only makes your smile wider.

Megumi hasn’t stopped looking at you, so you are surprised when in a swift movement he puts you behind him and punches Ryota straight in the face.

“He is an idiot and might not be worth it, but I don’t care”. 

The whole table goes silent again after a collective gasp and you watch in nearly slow motion as he takes money out of his wallet and gives it to your friend Yuki, Ryotaro has fallen to his knees and Megumi addresses him one last time before taking your hand and dragging you out of the restaurant.

“That nose is broken, I would suggest going to the E.R. unless you wanna look as disgusting as you are inside on the outside”.

Fushiguro walks a couple of streets while practically dragging you behind him, he finally stops next to a tree, yellow and red covered branches so full and large they linger just barely above your heads.

“Next time you want to ask me to go on a date with you, I don’t want it to be because of that fucker”.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Thinking about my desire for a mistaken identity time travel fic where Obito and Sasuke get tossed into the warring states, but bc Sasuke looks like an Izuna clone and Obito for some reason gets the wild hair look back, they keep being mistaken for Madara and Izuna.

Notably, they keep being mistaken for Madara and Izuna as they are in the middle of attempting to beat the ever-loving shit out of eachother.

And because Obito likes causing problems for Madara and Sasuke shrimply does not give a fuck and might even appreciate the fake identity alibi, they do nothing to actually deny the mistaken identity. Obito actually encourages it, usually by loudly agreeing with whoever shouts "omg its Uchiha Madara" as he lights shit on fire.

Anything to cause the real Madara more problem, right? Karma, bitch aa

He actually wants to cut his hair short again but the temptation of getting to continue to ruin Madara's reputation is too good, so he doesnt

ANYWAYS. Thinking about all of the above again w the context of my "Kakashi is related to and bears a resemblance to Tobirama" agenda thats been steadily growing in like. Actually, I think almost every Kakashi fic Ive written so far (oops)

Maybe I want Kakashi in this now. Maybe I'm also thinking about Tenzo, who got the same "oh for some strange reason my hair is longer now" treatment as Obito and with the Mokuton, can now be mistake as Hashirama by those who have never seen him. Or even people who have seen him but logically assume he's wearing a henge.

There's only one known man with the power of Mokuton-- why would the ever believe it wasn't Hashirama (unless they were close enough to the man to truly doubt it on a personal level)

I have no real ideas for an overarching plot, but like. Obito, Sasuke, Kakashi and Tenzo mistaken identity time travel my beloved,,

Kakashi and Tenzo traveled + landed together and Obito and Sasuke did the same so neither group is aware of the other

(Kakashi and Obito eventually figure it out bc of the shared eye connection I think)

But in the mean time they actually keep managing to avoid each other bc they'll hear rumors ab "Uchiha Madara" being spotted in the town over (Obito continues to be very loud about it very on purpose) and then avoid going there, while Sasuke hears the same, figures its Obito, and sprints over to try and bash his face in

Obito finally eventually gets cornered by Kakashi, Tenzo, and Sasuke and gets his shit rocked fr fr send tweet

Sasuke and Kakashi bonding moment(s) where we tackle the uhh. Everything. Of canon. And Sasuke gives Kakashi a crumb of respect back or smthn

Idk but I just want to see Sasuke call him sensei, don't ask me how we'd get there

Meanwhile when they're finally like, exposed or whatever there's just SUCH a mess there to be had

I'm choosing Uchiha Hikaku as my first contact bc I love him dearly and think he serves as good middleground between ranks of importance and relevance

So like. Picture this.

You are Hikaku. You're sent out to investigate some rumors about Madara and Izuna fucking shit up and causing a general mess some ways away. A henge, a slander campaign, the real Madara-sama is sure.

You get there and find 3 people fighting.

(Obito, Kakashi and Tenzo's first interaction. It's tense. They may all come from the final battle, after Obito changed his mind, but there were a lot of things left unsaid and also they all probably just wanna beat the shit out of eachother anyways. Things happen, things are said, a fight is had)

Two of them bear a passing resemblance to Madara and Tobirama respectively, and the 3rd has the look of a Senju to him.

Ok. So, Senju slander campaign? Gone... wrong, he'd assume by the fact that they were all fighting.

You then recognize that the fake Madara has mismatched eyes (!!!! What the fuck !!! Culturally significant thing there !! Was he born like that? Was it a transplant?)

And the fake Tobirama(?) has a whole stolen sharingan he seems to be ACTIVLEY using (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!! SOUND THE ALARMS!!!!! BLOODLINE THIEF ALERT !!!!!!!!)

You debate between just watching or entering the fight, but then the fake Tobirama makes some sort of reference to his sharingan eye belonging to the fake Madara's.

All thoughts come to a screeching halt.

Ok. So. Gonna get involved now.

There's a clear side here (Uchiha vs potential Senju) Hikaku can not leave his clanmate to die, and he doesn't yet know how he might have been involved in the slander campaign so it's honestly best to put this guy in his pocket and bring him back to Madara anyways

So Hikaku enters the battle, everyone makes appropriate shocked pikachu faces bc no one noticed him and aw shit it's gonna get more complicated, cool, awesome, great

(Also note; Hikaku became the eventual Uchiha head after Madara's defection so there's also a "oh shit no way" reaction from Obito specifically who knows this information. And also maybe Kakashi who I imagine knows a lot of Konoha's history and politics)

Battle continues, Tenzo uses Mokuton, Hikaku gets appropriately freaked the FUCK out at the idea of another mokuton user

Then Sasuke comes crashing out of nowhere , yay !!!

(Kakashi and Tenzo, who did not know Sasuke was here yet and are only seeing him for the first time, make more surprised pikachu faces)

Sasuke, who... possibly knew Kakashi and Tenzo were around and may have been avoiding them, wanting to signal that for now at least they were all on the same side (against Obito) nods to Kakashi specifically and gives a tense and sort of stilted, "sensei."

SO. HIKAKU IS KIND OF GOING THROUGH IT OVER HERE NOW.

Sasuke is a dead fucking wringer for Izuna in the way that only a direct relation can be. I'm talking they could absoloutley pass for twins kind of relation. Worst of all, they look around the same age (Sasuke is only a few years younger)

Hikaku is no longer fighting with a strange Uchiha against Senju agents he's now fighting with an Uchiha against another Uchiha (who's a dead wringer for his clan heir !!!!) He does not know who to believe or what side to exist on.

(Had this false Izuna called the fake Tobirama sensei? Oh god—)

Things happen, whether they lose or escape I don't know but it ends with an incredibly confused and concerned Hikaku returning to the Uchiha clan compound with tales of bloodline theft, another mokuton user, and horrifically— A possible sibling, lost and raised by the senju in secret.

Yeah. So. Madara won't react well to that. Madara won't react well to that at all.

(Izuna won't either, in the slightest. Does... does he have a twin...? Did he have a twin once, lost too early for their parents to bear to tell them...?)

It's incredibly hard for the Senju to deny any involvement when Hikaku has sharingan perfect memories to share of the fake-Izuna (Sasuke, they had called him Sasuke) standing side by side with a man who resembles Tobirama and another who is very fucking clearly using Mokuton. And that's "very fucking clearly using mokuton" seen by someone who has SEEN mokuton used in battle. Multiple times. He will not mistake it for anything else.

Anyways oops sorry for creating a horrible political scandal and also probably making the Uchiha/Senju wore like 10 times more charged teehee </3

(Obito doesn't give a shit. Sasuke swings violently between caring both too little and too much depending on the hour of the day and how the issue is framed. Kakashi and Tenzo are.... distracted. And undecided. And care about this issue from an "aw shit but Konoha wait no—" view point)

Ummmmm anyways endgame Konoha is made early (but possibly with a bit more blood involved) and Hikaku is made Hokage bc I fucking love Hikaku, yay the end !!!

[workingbynyx]

Hi! I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing headcanons of Jason Todd as the reader's boyfriend? Probably like the general dynamic of the relationship, love language, etc. Whatever you think goes best! :)

of course! i can finally use my hcs of boyfie jason to good use oml i have so much in store for you loves 😚

(this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and now that its almost v-day i think its pretty fitting to post this <3 also pls remember that these are my personal hcs so some may be entirely ooc but this is how i imagine him to be okay 😭)

Very affectionate behind closed doors

Jason wasn't a very clingy person to begin with. in fact the first time you held hands you swore you saw drops of sweat drip down the side of his face, it's hilarious. it took him a while to get around giving physical affection but once he did, hugs and kisses are non-stop. he'll either give you quick or aggressive but gentle kisses or would simply ask you to climb onto him on your shared bed and lay your head on his chest as he sleeps. he'd search for your hand and give it a squeeze when the both of you are in a big crowd (ex; galas, parties) or just rest his hand on the small of your back— as intimidating he might seem, he's just a big baby in your hands.

A pretty decent cook, to say the least

Could be an unpopular opinion but i'd say Jason isn't all too bad in the kitchen, he can pretty much fix up a simple meal if he wants to. The man could either fuck up the microwave or invent a whole new recipe just to fit your cravings, there's no in between. He doesn't want to admit it but he has a secret folder in his phone of all the recipes to your favourite dishes from lunch meals to deserts; so now on every occassion, you can expect waking up to the fresh scent of your favourite food set on the table <3

Midnight joyrides are the best

Do y'all know those tiktok accs that own a motorbike and just drive around with their partners sitting behind them? That's exactly how i imagine what it would be like to be Jason's partner 👊👊 literally like; "bubs put on your helmet" "are we going out? at this time?" "what, you don't want to?" "well, yeah i do..." "good, i'll have the bike out front then" then you guys just drive around on his bigass bike zooming through the city. He'd also have his hands run down your leg that's straddling him from behind at every stoplight possible wkehwjhejwhd

Getting out of bed is almost impossible

The first time you two moved in together was really exciting, waking up finding yourself beside the love of your life sleeping peacefully to eating breakfast and dinner with them too. But as time went by, it became almost your mission everyday to get out of bed without being held back by Jason pulling you back under the sheets. You'd have to be sneaky to move his arm that's wrapped around your waist before his reflexes react soon enough; "mmh, going somewhere?" "jay, i gotta get to work" "10 more minutes love, i promise. I'll just drive you there it's much faster" "you said that 5 minutes ago— i'll be late again!" "are you saying you'd rather leave me alone?" "jace i–" "mhm exactly, so stay a'ight? you could just tell them you caught that flu" "i already did...two days ago..."

Absolutely adores your eyes, hands and waist

I'm a firm believer that Jason is a certified waist-grabber !!! you can expect the rough tips of his gloves glide over from your back all the way to your waist once he comes home from work. He also looooves looking into your eyes and see his reflection in them, the same eyes that showed nothing but pure love and kindness to him. And he also likes your hands; the size difference when you compare them, how they wrapped around his own, and how they cling onto him every chance you get. He thinks it's such a cute mannerism (if you have them too)

He asks for fashion advice, sometimes

Jason'll probably throw on a shirt, jacket, pants and boots then call it day before he met you— but he's even conscious of how colors looked on him now. You were his stylist, often picking out clothes and giving him new looks that you think looks best on him just because he once saw a photo of him and thought the shirt and pants he had didn't match at all. Jason always thought clothes only consists of hoodies, sweatpants, shirts, but now even knows what 'preppy' clothing is after you explained it to him.

His love language is words of affirmation and physical touch

This may vary to some people but i do hc Jason's love language to be words of affirmation and physical touch. Words of affirmation; only because he absolutely loves it when he tells you what he genuinely thinks of you at the moment. "You look great in red", "i'm proud of what you did there", "i love you, y'know that right?", "you look so gorgeous, i'm lucky to have you" and physical touch; because he's totally convinced he can't live without you by his side. Jason would want to be next or near you at any given chance, he'll have you scooted beside him while he reads a book or gently rub his hand against your thigh when he's focused on a movie. Your presence alone gives him the comfort he's always longing for in nights that he's away from home, and you'd glady give it to him.

Very protective over you

It's probably a known fact that Jason is a protective person but when it comes to you he can be over the top in making sure you're okay (especially when you're also a vigilante/hero working with him.) You'll always have to assure him that you're fine and not bleeding to death with a papercut or when you accidentlly stub your toe against the bed. But when you're also a crime-fighter like him, best believe he'll always have you stay and guarded behind him. You had to explain so many times that you could also take care of yourself like he can, though it's understandable why he acts that way most of the time.

Acts all tough, but melts when you're around

Around the times when Jason still had a lil crush on you, he'd never let his guard down and likes to appear cold or tough. But once you were dating he's an absolute shy babe even with the smallest gestures or compliments you give him. He'd only crack a smile at the side comments you make but is mentally falling apart. Or when he can't keep up the act he simply dips his head in the corner of your neck and stay there til he stops blushing like a teen getting his first kiss.

Is a part of the sassy man apocalypse

Sometimes, you question if this man is simply your bestfriend or your boyfriend of how many years. The amount of bickering the two of you end up having is like watching two friends fight over peanut butter vs chocolate. You'd suggest a book you've been reading that he absolutely despises and have a debate right there and then. It's almost like that one Friends scene when Joey and Rachel were giving spoilers back to back at each other LMAO. The man also has an unhealthy habit of popping a hip whenever he stands, your gallery would probably be filled with pictures of him in that stance alone.

[sim0nril3y]

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon hasn't been able to stop thinking about your relationship and how not making a commitment to you might lead you to running off with someone else. He needs to solve this.

Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), suggestive thoughts, canon-typical swearing.

It was strange to Simon that the two of you had settled into routine together. Most nights he’d pick you up after finishing work, he’d bring you back to his home or drop you off at your flat. More often than not Simon would cook you some good food to fill up your empty tummy, then roll around in the sheets together. The next morning you’d wake up beside him and he’d set to making you a hearty breakfast and discuss plans for the days. Those plans typically of doing exactly what you’d done the day before, spending time together and… though he’d never say it aloud Simon enjoyed it, he looked forward to it.

There was the times when Simon was left feeling lonely because you weren’t around. It was when he wouldn’t see you from one day to the next because you were busy working on an art project or work had left you exhausted. Simon was a solitary person, not needing or even wanting other people around him, or… at least that was how he’d felt before meeting you.

So, what was this? A question that Simon had never asked himself before, but now it was burning inside of him. Never before had Simon desired clarification, but as it currently stood you were just two people living independent lives that slept with each other and spent time together. That left opportunity for you to find someone else and bring them into your life. He hoped that wasn’t the case, it certainly wasn’t something you’d mentioned before but it still left that door open for someone to take you from him.

The thought of losing you filled him with utter dread. How was he supposed to sleep at night with your body to curl around? He’d started buying extra food when doing his weekly shop, who was going to help him eat it all? Plus, all your favourite snacks were filling the cupboards, if you weren’t here then they’d just go to waste… Besides, there wasn’t another living soul out there that would be able to make you fall apart as quick as he could.

Bloody hell. He was in deep here.

That night after a long shift at work you were curled up beside him on the sofa, blanket draped over your legs, snacks between your lounging bodies and eyes fixed on whatever dumb show you’d thrown on the TV. You hadn’t seemed to notice that from beside you Simone was stewing silently, mind racing with how to broach the subject in the most subtle way.

These questions and that anxiety was beginning to build up inside of Simon, his knee was bobbing relentlessly, muscles wound tight, fingers tapping furiously against the arm of the sofa like a metronome. How was he going to do this? How was he going to ask for clarification on what you were to each other? What did he actually hope the answer was going to be? He wanted you, right? Only you. He didn’t want another living soul to have you… fuck, the thought of someone else having their hands and their lips on you. It made him seethe.

“What are we?” The question tumbled from his lips, short and frustrated. It caused you to look up at him, brows furrowed. “Sorry?” “You… do you ever do this with anyone else?” He looked down at you through intense dark eyes. “Do I… watch TV with other people?” You questioned, almost not following his line of questions.

Further frustrated Simon bit out. “Do you fuck anyone else?” That made you begin to fight a little smile, finally figure out what he was trying to ask. “And the rest of it… everything we do together… like going for walks, or to dinner… or just watching TV like this…” He gestured to the way you were lounging so comfortably behind him, sans any make-up and looking so relaxed. “Do you?” Simon asked, you simply smirked as you flitted you gaze back towards the TV and muttered easily. “Would it bother you if I did?”

This question only made him stew and simmer again at the thought of someone else being in your life like this. The thought of them kidding and making you fall apart only mad his anger bubble further. “Mm.” He grumbled out, keep his dangerous eyes locked on you.

Reaching across to rest a delicate hand on his tattooed forearm you mentioned softly. “I don’t do this with anyone else, Si.” You informed him, watching the tension leaving him body in that moment. “Only you.” You quip with a little shrug of your shoulders, before continuing. “If I’m not here with you then I’m at work and I’m wishing that I was here with you or counting down the minutes until I’m going to see you again or wildly ignoring all of tasks and remembering all my time with you.” There was vulnerability to your tone as you informed him that. “Then I see you and I’m happy in all those hours before I’m back to being on my own and wishing it’ll happen all over again.”

You were in deep too. With the way that Simon was looking at you, you could have been convinced that there wasn’t anyone else in the world. “Simon, are you trying to ask me something?” Reaching up you brushed your fingers against his face delicately before following with a gentle few kisses against his cheeks and temples and jawline. Every action made forced his body to relax, coaxing his anxiety away before finally the words came. “What if… we did do this everyday? Just… us two…”

You gnawed your lower lip. “I could get behind that.” You agreed with a tiny shrug of your shoulders. “So… if we did do this… what would I call you?” You quirked a brow at him. “My boyfriend?” Simon grimaced. “Love, I’m not a boy.” He muttered, snatching some of your snacks and beginning to munch away. “How about my lover?” You purred playfully and once again Simon groan and threw you a look. “So… just my Simon?” You raised your brows at him, this time he didn’t seem to fight your suggestion, simply smirked.

“Mm…” Then he nodded, much to your surprise. “And you’d be mine.” It was like your heart exploded in your chest, smiling at him and trying not to act overly excited and frighten him off. “I guess I would be~” Then leaning forward you kissed a couple sweet kisses. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Not moving too fast?” You ask, concerned that Simon might change his mind all of a sudden and end up hurting you both. “M’sure, babe.” He responded, pressing a sweet kiss to your nose. "You're mine."

Masterlist | Ask | 29-01-2024

[thelaisydazy]

Firefighter!Simon Riley x Reader - Coffee Date

The inside of the cafe was crowded as you peered in through the front window, you doubted there was anywhere to sit inside. You chew the inside of your cheek nervously. You were supposed to meet Simon here for coffee, but it looked like you’d have to take your coffee to go.

“Busy.” A deep voice behind you makes you jump. You turn quickly, nearly stumbling into the window before a large hand wraps around the small of your back, stopping you. Looking up you see Simon, who is staring down at you with those impossibly soft brown eyes. He's wearing a black T-shirt under a leather jacket along with his jeans and boots, and of course his skull patterned mask. Your face feels hot as you realize just how close he’s holding you. Thankfully he seems to notice too and releases his grip on you, taking a small step back as he does. He turns his head, looking into the window. “Could always get a cuppa to go...”

“That’s probably a good idea,” you say, fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. Simon stares at you for a moment, picking up on your nervousness.

“You don’t have to go in,” he offers. “You can wait here while I get the coffees.” You look up at him.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say. “I can go in to order coffee.” Simon doesn’t look quite convinced. Quietly, he reaches out a hand to you beckoning you to take it. 

“Just stay close,” he says softly. With a shyness you didn’t usually feel around him, you reach out, wrapping your fingers around his far larger hand. Simon leads both of you inside the cafe. 

While the two of you wait on line, Simon gently rubs the pad of his thumb over your knuckles, a surprisingly soothing motion that keeps you from thinking about how many people are inside the cafe. You’re looking up at the menu, deciding what to get when he looks around, wondering to himself if the cafe is over its occupancy limit. 

As he’s scanning the crowd, he spots Johnny and Kyle sitting at one of the tables, the two immediately looking away when they realize they’ve been spotted. Simon frowns and steps to put himself between them and you, not wanting you to know your date was being watched. 

At the front of the line, you order your favorite coffee, reaching for your wallet as Simon orders himself a cup of tea. By the time you pull out a few dollars, Simon had already paid for both of you. When your drinks are handed to you, he quickly ushers you outside, shooting a glare towards Johnny, who was craning his neck to watch you two. 

---

“Told you this was a bad idea..” Kyle said, taking a bite of a biscotti he’d treated himself to. He frowned, it wasn’t as good as the ones that came from your bakery. 

“Haud yer wheesht,” Johnny whispered, leaning in his seat. “Where ur they going?”

“Simon saw you.” Kyle pointed half of his biscotti at Johnny. “He’s a big boy, he can handle himself just fine without you.” 

Johnny pouted back at Kyle. He knew Simon could be a little standoffish, he just didn’t want that to ruin the date. Johnny started to stand up from their table. 

“Sit down,” Kyle said sharply. “You’re not getting in the middle of it.”

---

You found yourself walking with Simon in the park, your fingers still intertwined with his. He leads you to a bench, making sure it’s dry before letting you sit. You sip your drink, sighing as it warms you. 

Next to you though, Simon hasn’t touched his tea. He’s just been staring at it since the two of you sat down. You’ve never seen him without his mask on. Even when he came to the bakery for breakfast, he never removed it to eat, he would just take whatever you packed up for him to go.

“Maybe coffee was a bad idea,” you say, only now realizing he might be uncomfortable removing his mask. You start to stand up when Simon stops you.

“Is fine,” he says. He reaches up, pulling down the privacy mask and drinking his tea, his gaze not meeting your’s as he does. The lower half of his face is covered in scars. Dark pink, twisting and raised against his pale skin. You can’t help but stare at first, before looking away. Nervously you sip your drink, letting your thumb brush over the warm cup in your hands. 

When you look away, Simon feels his stomach twist and his jaw clench. This was a mistake. He was disfigured. Why did he think you could ever look at him with anything other than disgust?

As he takes another sip from his cup, he hears voices coming nearer to where you’re sitting. He reaches up to replace his mask, but you stand before he does, turning to put your body between him and the couple walking past, blocking the view of his face from them. He keeps his eyes on his cup, trying hard not to stare at your body, his face growing warm.

“I got this in the bakery.” He hears you say. You have your sleeve rolled up, showing him a dark pink splotch on your forearm. “The donut fryer, spit out some oil. I had just started working there and was a little too close.” The smile you offer him as you sit next to him again is enough to make him melt. 

“Thanks..” he says, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

[nowoyas]

Trying to make sense of the Nanowrimo statement to the best of my abilities and fuck, man. It's hard.

It's hard because it seems to me that, first and foremost, the organization itself has forgotten the fucking point.

Nanowrimo was never about the words themselves. It was never about having fifty thousand marketable words to sell to publishing companies and then to the masses. It was a challenge, and it was hard, and it is hard, and it's supposed to be. The point is that it's hard. It's hard to sit down and carve out time and create a world and create characters and turn these things into a coherent plot with themes and emotional impact and an ending that's satisfying. It's hard to go back and make changes and edit those into something likable, something that feels worth reading. It's hard to find a beautifully-written scene in your document and have to make the decision that it's beautiful but it doesn't work in the broader context. It's fucking hard.

Writing and editing are skills. You build them and you hone them. Writing the way the challenge initially encouraged--don't listen to that voice in your head that's nitpicking every word on the page, put off the criticism for a later date, for now just let go and get your thoughts out--is even a different skill from writing in general. Some people don't particularly care about refining that skill to some end goal or another, and simply want to play. Some people sit down and try to improve and improve and improve because that is meaningful to them. Some are in a weird in-between where they don't really know what they want, and some have always liked the idea of writing and wanted a place to start. The challenge was a good place for this--sit down, put your butt in a chair, open a blank document, and by the end of the month, try to put fifty thousand words in that document.

How does it make you feel to try? Your wrists ache and you don't feel like any of the words were any good, but didn't you learn something about the process? Re-reading it, don't you think it sounds better if you swap these two sentences, if you replace this word, if you take out this comma? Maybe you didn't hit 50k words. Maybe you only wrote 10k. But isn't it cool, that you wrote ten thousand words? Doesn't it feel nice that you did something? We can try again. We can keep getting better, or just throwing ourselves into it for fun or whatever, and we can do it again and again.

I guess I don't completely know where I'm going with this post. If you've followed me or many tumblr users for any amount of time, you've probably already heard a thousand times about how generative AI hurts the environment so many of us have been so desperately trying to save, about how generative AI is again and again used to exploit big authors, little authors, up-and-coming authors, first time authors, people posting on Ao3 as a hobby, people self-publishing e-books on Amazon, traditionally published authors, and everyone in between. You've probably seen the statements from developers of these "tools", things like how being required to obtain permission for everything in the database used to train the language model would destroy the tool entirely. You've seen posts about new AI tools scraping Ao3 so they can make money off someone else's hobby and putting the legality of the site itself at risk. For an organization that used to dedicate itself to making writing more accessible for people and for creating a community of writers, Nanowrimo has spent the past several years systematically cracking that community to bits, and now, it's made an official statement claiming that the exploitation of writers in its community is okay, because otherwise, someone might find it too hard to complete a challenge that's meant to be hard to begin with.

I couldn't thank Nanowrimo enough for what it did for me when I started out. I don't know how to find community in the same way. But you can bet that I've deleted my account, and I'll be finding my own path forward without it. Thanks for the fucking memories, I guess.

[kentoxo]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt. 11

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: i have returned with another, not-so-interesting part. i apologize to those who might have asked to be tagged previously, i *think* i have everyone now! but again, pls feel free to yell at me in my askbox if i didnt get you! the next part is gonna be way more fun, promise :) trying to bring in more of our jjk favs (including our baby boy toru)

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.9, pt.10,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Monday

“Kento, are you stupid or dumb?” Haibara coldly spits through the phone. “You have what, like 5 days? My god, where is your brain dude?” 

“I’m a businessman,” Nanami responds, with shaky sighs escaping from between his lips as he enters the lobby of their job. “I made a deal, and she accepted the terms. When have I ever lost a deal?” 

“This all could have been avoided if you just said the other shit you told me,” Haibara groaned. “How she’s pretty, and the way you are able to open up to her.” 

Nanami lets out his own sigh, as his friend was probably right. “She… made me nervous. I only know how to be professional and talk in working terms. I’m not good at anything else.” 

“And now she’s pissed off, so fantastic work, Head of Department,” Haibara says before sucking his teeth. 

Nanami walks into the elevator, one hand buried in his pocket while the other holding his phone tiredly at his ear. A few other colleagues enter, giving Nanami a curt bow before pressing their floor button. “Is she in yet, by the way?” Nanami asks, a twinge of optimism in his tongue. 

“Of course she is,” Haibara hummed, the sounds of papers being sifted in the background. “She even asked for me to get your cup of coffee since she’s in a meeting right now.” 

Nanami’s eyebrow raised, “meeting?” 

Haibara murmurs a ‘hold on,’ the only sound to be heard was Haibara walking past several cubicles and work conversations. After finding a quiet place, Haibara brings the phone close to his mouth while cupping it with his other hand, “she’s in a meeting with shacho. ‘m not sure what it’s about, but he went to her desk the moment she clocked in.” 

What? “Did it seem like she was in trouble?” Nanami questions, his heart skipping a beat or two. 

Haibara shrugs, “‘m not sure, but I think it has to do with her promotion. Shacho mentioned it during the client lunch the other day, remember?” 

“That’s right,” Nanami lets out slowly, recalling that day in his head. That day, your usually tidy hair had a small lock of it sticking out from behind your ear. That same day is why Nanami wishes for hindsight almost constantly. “I wonder…” 

“Right?” Haibara whispers curiously. “Whatever promotion she gets, she earned it for sure.” 

The elevator doors open, and Nanami quickly rushes into the office. “Meet me in front of Takada shacho’s office.” 

“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be right there!” Haibara calls out. Nanami turns around to see his dark-haired partner behind him, sheepishly waving his phone in the air. Nanami hangs up and walks up to him, curious of his intentions. “You’re gonna owe me about $150 after this.” 

Nanami looks around before getting close to Haibara’s. A few strands of blond hair escape Nanami’s usually kempt hair. “What the hell did you buy?” He whispers, practically hisses. 

Albeit his nerves, Haibara looks up at him with a smirk, “when have I ever let you down, Kento?” 

“Never, but you best not start today,” Nanami growls, pulling away before making a quick stride over to Takada’s office. 

As he did, he noticed many of his colleagues peer curiously from their cubicle over to Takada’s office as well, with other eyes peering at your own desk for your return. A sea of whispers then started to surround Nanami as everyone noticed his arrival. Quiet, respectful greetings and curt bows create the aura around him as Nanami nods in acknowledgement. It was all just too curious for Nanami, as he felt the itch to know what he didn’t. 

But he could swear his eyes were deceiving him when he saw the backs of both Geto and Ieiri. 

“Geto, Ieiri,” Nanami addresses them in a firm, yet soft tone. 

Geto is first to turn, his long raven hair flowing from his movement. He usually had the top part of his hair bunned, but he decided to let his entire mane out today. Peculiar, Nanami mentally noted. It was also peculiar that Geto himself had a large bouquet of winter white lilies. “Kento,” Geto begins, a warm yet deceitful smile is pulled from each end of his lips. He offers his free hand, in which Nanami reluctantly shakes. 

Nanami has no issues with Geto, of course. All of them went to school together, Shoko and Haibara included. There has never been, and will never be, any beef between the two gentlemen. Of course, Nanami felt hesitant with him now, considering Geto hired you initially, and you were now under Nanami. There was a sudden and inexplicable feeling within the hazel-eyed man. Nanami was… nervous. 

Geto’s obsidian orbs weren’t helping with that, either. 

“Why so formal?” Ieiri sounded from his right side, pulling him out of his locked gaze with Geto. Nanami snatches his hand back, and quickly offers it to Ieiri, who teasingly just shakes the tips of his fingers. Her free hand held a small red box with a gold ribbon tied around it. “It’s been a little while, Kento. You never come up to visit.” 

“It’s because I work,” Nanami hums, letting her hand go to shove both his hands in his pockets. He needed some sort of solid ground, and his pockets felt safe. “And so do you both, considering we’re all department heads here.” 

“That we are,” Geto hums, “it has been quite crazy in Legal, considering how many clients the both of you have been pulling in.” 

Ieiri stows away a lock of her auburn hair behind her ear, gently lowering the cigarette she had hidden. “Sales has been quite crazy,” Ieiri said slowly, “hence why I’m down here. ‘m looking for my girl that you snatched from me.” 

Nanami squints his eyes, staring Ieiri down. But after realizing her words, his eyes slightly widened, “do you, by any chance, know what her promotion is about then?” He looks over at Geto as well, silently extending that question to him. 

Ieiri widened her eyes in confusion, with Geto raising his eyebrow in curiosity. “You… don’t know?” Geto asks, each word burned off his tongue in humor. 

Nanami was annoyed from not knowing, “I don’t if I’m asking. Why would I know?”

Ieiri taps at her bottom lip with the tip of her index, “well, you are her manager. You’d be the one that Takada shacho would talk to regarding Y/N’s growth within the company.” 

It did raise curiosity that Takada would mention Y/N’s promotion aloud in front of him and clients that have no relevance. But, Nanami did have some expectation to talk about your future promotion with Takada, whatever that would pertain. It felt somewhat like betrayal, considering how much Takada confided in him. Nanami could only hope it was with right intentions that he was not included in his assistant's promotion. 

“I have no say in how he makes his decisions,” Nanami’s eyes narrow at the door before them. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to calm his nerves. “I can only hope it is a promotion that is to her liking.” 

“I can give you a hint if you want,” Ieiri teases with a toothy grin. Geto clutches the bouquet a little tighter as she piques Nanami’s interest. He looks over to her, noticing her adjusting her long, black dress. She pulls off pieces of lint, torturing him purposely with the wait. “I heard a rumor that… this promotion is a role that is above all of ours.” 

Nanami, at the moment, was beyond proud of you. He couldn’t even conceal his smile, feeling pangs of excitement in his heart. He was glad that you were seen exactly the way he sees you. Intelligent, capable, overachieving, and approachable. You work with such grace, and exude so much warmth as a person. You getting promoted to a position much greater than his is truly an honor. He was lucky to have a small role in your success, if you considered his significance. 

“But supposedly she will still reside within one of our departments,” Geto hums quietly. Nanami gives him a look, but Geto shrugs, “that’s all I know.” 

Nanami’s smile calmed, “I don’t see the need for her to transfer out of Finance, though.” 

“Is that right?” Geto questions with a smirk. “You have your department completely sorted, besides how nosey they are.” The three heads look back to see all of his colleagues eye them like fish, having them awkwardly turn back to their work. “What help is needed here?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Nanami replies, an accidental hint of offense weaved in his words. “Just know that her skill set would be best utilized and appreciated here.” 

Geto’s smirk still played tricks in Nanami’s head, “and yet she applied and was initially hired for Legal. She was first recognized and utilized for her skill set in the Legal Department.” 

“She clearly is a woman of many talents, considering her contribution to all of our departments,” Nanami points out. He adjusts his tie, and sweeps his hair back in a more tidy manner. “She has done wonders for my department, and I intend to keep her flourishing here.” 

“I hope you boys didn’t forget that I’m here, too,” Ieiri pipes in, slightly annoyed at being ignored. “Nonetheless, it’s not about us. It’s about where she would like to go, and where Takada shacho believes where her role would be best fit.” 

After her words, the three hear frantic running from behind. Nanami turns around to see two bouquets of white roses make their way towards them. They were large, almost the size of two small bedside tables. The person halts, with staggering breaths emitting from the bouquets. Nanami notices the hair just barely sticking out from the top and knew right away that it was his closest friend, Haibara. 

“Nanami,” Haibara spews simply, forcing the two bouquets into his arms. The scent of florals intoxicated Nanami’s nose as he looked over the bouquets at his exhausted friend. “Looks like.. I made it right on time,” he lets out through sporadic, heavy breaths. From the corner of Nanami’s eye, Geto looked slightly annoyed at the fact that he was slightly one-upped. 

Before Nanami could even express his gratitude, the click of an unlocking door sounded from behind him. They all look over to see Takada shacho with a wide smile. To his right, you stood there, your body completely stiff from nerves. Nanami could tell that, despite everything, you still looked at him with those eyes, finding some sort of solace in them. 

Takada jumped a bit, humored at the sight of 3 of his Head of Departments. “Well, good morning to you all,” their boss hums heartily. All of them, including Haibara, bow. “I haven’t seen you 3 together since last year's Holiday Party. The only person we’re missing here is Satoru.” 

Satoru Gojo, the Head of IT. 

Geto nods, “they’ve been quite busy since changing the system for our company hub.” 

Takada nods, “I need to go visit them soon. See if there’s any relief I can send to their department. Speaking of…” Takada then moves away from you and allows you the spotlight. “Everyone, please turn your attention here.” 

You felt your nerves right at your throat. Though this was a good thing, you were never a fan of being front and center of anything. You always had stage fright, surely since you were younger. Having the attention and eyes of many was something you could never get used to, even now in your adult life. Nanami could see you remaining frigid while expressing a sheepish smile. 

As Takada begins to congratulate you on your new role as Office Manager, Nanami quickly walks up to you and puts the two bouquets in your hand. Although it was sudden and the bouquets held some weight to them, it provided a shield from your fellow colleagues staring at you. Nobody questioned it as claps and quiet cheers erupted in the office. 

You noticed Nanami standing firmly to your side, smiling at everyone while gently nudging you with his arm. You look up at him, uncertainty glimmering in your eyes. He mouths a silent ‘congratulations’ with a very wide and proud smile. You knew he was going to ask you about it later, but right now, it felt nice to just get a simple praise. It was the one bit of calmness within the chaotic sounds of claps and praises. 

“I hope everyone can join me in wishing Y/N much luck in her deserved promotion,” Takada announces, causing the crowd to quiet down. Praises continued to stream, but you could barely pay attention as you stared up at Nanami’s hazel eyes. But you did get interrupted by Ieiri’s hand latching onto your forearm. You look ahead to meet the eyes of both of your previous bosses. 

While anxiously holding onto the bouquets, you quickly bowed before the both of them, “a-ah, Ieiri kacho, Geto kacho! It is wonderful to see you both!” 

“And we you, Y/L/N,” Geto hums with a soft tone. “Many congratulations on your promotion. May your transition be as perfect as your work ethic.” 

You bow once again, attempting to find calm in Haibara’s frantic thumbs up shaking in the background. “Thank you very much… I would have never been able to even get here without you, Geto kacho.” 

Geto emits a hearty laugh before grinning, “you said it first.” 

Ieiri promptly shoves him a bit, smiling down at you, “why don’t we all have celebratory breakfast?” Ieiri looks over at Takada with a pearly smile. “Can Y/N delay her work so she can celebrate her monumental accomplishment with us?” 

Takada smiles before nodding, “please, feel free to take your time. I’d love to join you all, but my entire schedule is booked with meetings. Enjoy in my absence. And again, congratulations, Y/N.” 

They all bow before Takada, who takes his leave back into his office. A brief silence ensues before Geto goes up to you and begins to take the bouquets from your arms. “A-ah, Geto kacho, you don’t have to,” you insist, attempting to keep them in your arms. “You are already carrying one yourself.” 

Before Geto could even advance, Nanami quickly holds your elbow and tilts you so you’d be facing him. Without another second, he takes back the two bouquets from your arms. “Let me carry them for you, Y/N kacho,” Nanami says quietly. 

Your heart melts. Your mind was going blank. You could vomit from excitement, anxiety, and enchantment from Nanami’s teasing. “Th-thank you, Nanami kacho,” you say shyly, feeling your cheeks erupt in heat. 

“I’m no longer your kacho,” Nanami quickly spews, “feel free to drop that honorific for me.” There was something brewing in those hazel eyes, and you were left to wonder what goes on behind those beautiful orbs.

Taglist (OPEN)

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer

@gradmacoco @nymphsdomain @whatelsecouldgowrong @myynameisbuckyy @nanamjai

@a-sor @typicalchels @celestialzdiviner @satoru-is-the-way @sannieworshipper

@shibataimu

[thesirencult]

How Does Your Crush See You

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PILE 1

Your crush sees you as someone giving, forgiving, abundant and grounded. They might find you "too practical" at times, as you are someone who is mostly focused on work/education.

Your person is probably someone you've met through family or is a close family friend. They see you as part of their extended family. This screams "childhood friends to lovers".

I believe that you are aware about their feelings and thoughts about you. Whatever your intuition says, that's it! A few of you have caught this person staring or their hand lingered for too long on your waist. These are clear signs there is something there. If they look indifferent and nonchalant then they do not view you romantically.

For those of you wondering "are those signs they like me?" yes, they are! Your relationship though is making this person feel burdened.

They would love to be with you but are afraid a confession will mess up everything between you. They also might have a few issues in their life right now and they don't want to bring you any drama.

The same might apply to you. Right now you are busy and have other things on your plate, that's what they think about you right now.

All in all, this pile will apply to you if your crush is someone close to you or your family or a coworker who might have taken you under their wing. Sidenote: This person knows you personally so they have a pretty clear image of who you are. Take care xoxo S...

PILE 2

TW: Mention of anxiety, depression and struggle.

Your crush sees you through a blurry lens, for them, nothing is clear about you. You confuse them. If I had to write a short story about you two, it would be titled "The Girl On The Train", you doing a daily activity and they are there too, staring at you from afar, waiting for you to turn and look at them, locating them and as your eyes lock, you know this person lives their life parallel with yours, always there but never touching. Your soundtrack would have been "Poison Tree by Grouper" and "Limerance by Yves Tumor".

This person, based on the feeling I get from these two songs and their overall energy, is someone who feels like they are screaming while being underwater. They need someone who will see the real them, behind the facade. They might struggle with anxiety and depression and they can tell you have a similar vibe to them. There is something about you, they can't put their finger on it. You are like a ghost to them and they are the only ones who have the magical ability to look at you and admire your beauty. They are not doing it in a creepy way though, they are sweet. They also feel quite sad cause they don't know how to approach you.

In their mind they believe you two would have amazing, deep, heartfelt conversations, no judging involved, just two open arms and lots of crying. They are soft in their core and for some reason they believe you would be able to heal them. They fantasize about touching your hair or kissing your face and wiping away tears.

The 10 of Cups also came out though, so I would say they find you very sweet, someone they would love to have as a soulmate, but they think they do not deserve someon as pure and beautiful inside and out. You are their sweet escape and they would love to get lost in your own world. It's like you are underwater and they want to come in with you, even if they drown. This person believes that love can only be felt in the darkness, the quiet, the 3AM when everyone is sleeping or partying but you are together, sitting in silence and staring into eachother's souls.

PILE 3

Pink Matter by Frank Ocean (Slowed...)

BIttersuit by Billie Eilish

This person, ahhhh, your crush is the epitome of a "soft boi" on the inside. They might not look like someone soft or particularly sweet but their eyes, aww, they make you melt! Their exterior makes you wonder "why am I attracted to them? this is wrong!" This person is meant to teach how to fall in love, crazily and with no logical explanation. You are someone who knows how to love but not how to fall in love.

You have the hierophant/ high priestess energy. For them you are way above their level. You are on a different plane, interstellar. Untouchable. You are the keeper of the sacred and that p/d is sacred, damn! In the song above, the man comes to the conclusion that women's bodies are not just vessels for men to fill or for babies to be made, they are sacred. He talks about his lover like a goddess. If you have already slept with this person you have DESTROYED them for others, or if you sleep with them at some point, it's over, you are a Goddess and they have been a lucky mortal that got to touch you.

Also, if you are curvy/thick they actually love that. In the song there is a lyric about "models are for modelling thick girls are for cuddling". I want to say that this person might be a bit toxic when it comes to those stereotypes. They might follow a lot of instagram models who fit the beauty standard, or you know that their previous gf looked like a model yet they don't consider them "marriage material". Like, this person can have bad habits (smoking, drinking, driving fast, p*rn) and this is driving you insane, because they are not your type, but what I'm seeing is that this person is at a point in their lives that they have started reconsidering their actions and you will play a big part in that.

This person is not that experienced in love. They are experienced when it comes to matters of the flesh but once they are in love they turn to jello. They think about you particularly when they get h*gh. They had a revelation about you while being stoned or in a dream. They find you very beautiful and if you walked up to them and told them you want to lose excessive amounts of weight or you don't feel beautiful they would be SHOOK! They are like "why change perfection?" OH, they are also telling me, tell them to not listen to their bad thoughts" and they want to tell you they know that what they think about you doesn't align with how you view yourself. You think you are a goblin and they see you as an Aphrodite/Cleopatra.

They know you are traditional and serious, wise and calm and they want some of that. They want a spiritual person by their side and someone who will look deeper. They are well aware that you are an unlikely match. The chances they get with you are veryyyy slim. I'm hearing "I don't have a chance, but I'll try."

Wow, don't get scared if they approach and do not reject them. They have a huge heart. Also, the miss your presence if they haven't seen you in a while. They have a crush on you and their friends make fun of them, because it started in a joking manner, they might see you in passing. As an example, they might ride a mototrcycle and they see you almost everyday passing by the park or the beach and they tell their friends "Oh I saw my girl yesterday. She's so hot. There is somthing about her" and now they've been telling them "Have you guys seen my wife? I haven't seen her in a week." Their friends think they are joking but they truly miss you !