#and i have two tropes that would look perfectly…….. except that one takes away one of the most important and my personal favorite quality

[imaginarypasta]

i want to write this fairy-medieval romance au but my medieval romance knowledge extends to necrophilia and gay werewolves and just does not fit with the fairy aspect

[venjras]

CHEATING TROPE - GOJO SATORU.

not my usual cup of tea but here we are. sfw, mention of cheating,

his gaze was always on you. whenever you were in the same room, even from opposite sides, his attentive eyes did not miss even the smallest of your movements.

funny considering the fact that he had a girlfriend. you had met him when they were already a couple, you had heard from megumi that they weren’t going to last long. opposite characters, in the worst possible combination ever, the only great thing was sex and as an answer that was already enough. probably the pressure from the parents had something to do with it too, hers was a powerful family that would benefit their business immensely. since one day it would become his.

anyway, now you were at the fushiguro house, you were there for a group assignment, the house was empty except for you and that raven head immersed in books. a small snort escaped your lips, continuing to write down the results of the research you two had taken the last two hours. you were sure that your head would end up exploding keeping up like this.

“toruuuuu, i don’t want to stay here. let’s go home, my parents are waiting us for dinner.” fuck, no. that high-pitched voice was capable of piercing your eardrums like nothing. a roll of eyes and the kitchen door swinging open revealing their figures behind it. gojo and his bimbo girlfriend who was clinging to his arm, almost as if she were an extension of him and depended on it to survive. now the idea of ​​going back to your house was even more inviting. he went to ruffle his younger cousin’s hair, who muttered something inaudible in response. “you’re such a nerd, at this rate you’ll become a book yourself.” he added with a laugh, then pointed his gaze at you from under the thick sunglasses he always wore. time to realize it and the girl was already pulling him by the arm, muttering as if she were a child extremely in need of attention.

breathe, breathe, breathe.

“do you still keep the chemistry book in your room? we might need it for a more in-depth study of the last part.” you don’t even bother waiting for an answer, leaving the room, which had become too narrow by now, and heading upstairs. running away was your only chance, otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten out alive. there was something that was digging under your skin every time you met them, you still had to figure out what, but when you thought you were getting the solution it was as if your mind refused to process it. now you were safe, in megumi’s room looking for a book that you remembered perfectly well that he had forgotten at school, the perfect excuse to waste more time looking for it.

“running away won’t get you anywhere, you know that right sweetheart?” the deep voice echoed in your ears, hitting straight to your head. straightening your back and continuing to search on the desk, moving various papers. “it will definitely take me away from the beautiful voice of your girlfriend who, in my personal opinion, isn’t particularly pleasant.” the answer was immediate, spontaneous, perhaps too much so. seeing out of the corner of your eyes that a sly smile was making its way onto his lips. “actually, if you allow me, I’d go down and save gumi before his eardrums shatter in a million pieces.”

you go to the door but his figure doesn’t move, taking up the entire frame and preventing you from passing. now you were face to face, the perfect moment to realize how he had abandoned his glasses and now his crystalline eyes were fixed on you only. bad, bad idea. you try to pass through the small gap on the right but he promptly covers it with his long torso, making your eyebrows gather. “may i?” you move closer but nothing, he doesn’t show any signs of moving back, on the contrary. he crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking at you amused. “and what if i don’t want to?” he tilted his head to the side, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. you could do nothing but sigh, placing a hand on his chest, trying to move him but instead feeling only the mass of muscles stiffen. marble, that's what it could be compared to. this must have been the result of who knows how much training.

hold your thoughts, hold your thoughts.

“i want a kiss.” he said it so calmly that you almost had a fit, you must have heard wrong and your expression clearly betrayed your confusion. you saw him lower himself to your height, remaining just a few centimeters from your face, you felt his breath on your cheek. “i want a really nice kiss and after that i’ll move." this time the words reached your ears clearly, there was no possible misunderstanding.

and everything happened too quickly to even realize. his breathing getting closer and closer, the bodies that seemed to attract each other like magnets, he finally detached from the doorframe and obviously you saw an opportunity and took it. you took advantage and moved him enough to have a space to pass, exiting the room and with your foot on the first step. “you can do much better than that, toru.” you said that name purposely with the cadence of his girlfriend, shooting him a wink and rejoining the two in the living room.

the cheating trope had never been your favorite anyway.

maybe i’ll do a part two, i don’t know yet.

©️ venjras.

[bookuce]

Fools Rush In

SUMMARY: Nessa wasn’t looking for love, neither was Joe, but when you know, you know.

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OCs. The book uses actual names of wrestlers. Josh is Jey, Jon is Jimmy, Trinity is Naomi, Joe is Roman. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events (matches, storylines) could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAAANKS. *

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x Black OC

TROPE: Love At First Sight

WARNINGS: Language, Smut, 18+, NSFW

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER FOUR

The doors to the loft suite that Joe was staying in swung open to reveal the damp pair. Nessa enters before him, her eyes immediately shifting to the high ceilings above them. Her lips part, and she lets out a breath. “Wow,” she starts. “I have never been in a hotel room this big before.” She says, turning to face the large man behind her. He was dumping their clothes onto the L-shaped couch in the center of the suite. “Calling this a room would be an insult, right?” She asks, getting a chuckle out of him. “This is like a condo.” She corrects herself.

Joe glances briefly at the floor, an award-winning smile on his lips. “It can be whatever you want it to be,” He says humbly. “Room works.” He assures her. Vanessa turns away from him once more, now walking over to the wall of windows that overlooked downtown Miami. Reflections of lights below filled her eyes, brightening them more than ever. For the first time, she felt like a tourist in the city she’s known her entire life. It’s the same one she’s known for thirty-two years. Same buildings, same lights, same trees, same ocean, same night sky, but here, with him in this room, it felt different. Something felt different. 

And he’d agree. 

The dazzling smile he wore so perfectly melted as he watched her. He's now putting one foot in front of the other. He felt great turmoil as he slowly walked toward her. Though his mind was sure of what Joe was about to do, his heart was beating out of his chest. His head filled with the thunderous rhythm of his heartbeat, but the vigorous flutter made him feel like he was having an out-of-body experience. Perhaps he was.

Silence makes Nessa anxious, and it’s quiet behind her—a little too quiet. She turns, meeting his gaze for only a moment. His large hands were on her face, pulling her in for a grand kiss. Slowly, she sucked in a breath, her body finally catching up to what was happening. Her lips would move against his in that same passionate manner from before. Her hands find the center of his chest, her nails curving around the mounds of his collarbones as she felt him out. Her fingers curl against the thickness of his throat before her left arm takes the lead and wraps around his neck. His warm hands moved from her face, his knees bending as his palms quickly found the flesh of her under thighs. He hoists her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his thick torso with ease.

Her right-hand travels up his shoulder and down his back, capturing water droplets. His skin was feverish compared to the icy touch of his wet locks against her skin. Despite the contrasting temperatures, goosebumps developed, stimulating her.

Joe swayed slightly with this kiss, his equilibrium getting the best of him. He felt as if he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall into the unknown. He takes two steps forward, pinning the woman in his arms against the glass behind her. She breaks the kiss, a loud gasp leaving her lips as she arches off the chilled surface. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He apologizes frantically. His brown eyes were wide with guilt. He takes a few steps back from the glass. “Are you alright?” He asks.

“I’m fine,” she promises. “It just…startled me, that’s all.” She laughs slightly.

“Okay.” He nods once. 

Silence fell on the pair as they searched each other’s eyes. Their chests quickly rose and fell as they recovered from that head-swimming kiss. Vanessa brings her free hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. Who was this man that had this beguiling hold on her? She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth. God, how can one man be so attractive, and what could he want with me? She thought. “Can I be honest?” He asks as if he could read her mind. 

Without a word, she nods, her eyes venturing down to his full lips. His lips appeared swollen and perfectly pink. “Would you…” He drifts off. Asking for sex was always awkward for him. “I mean, if you’d like?” He finishes. Consent was the number one rule of the game with Joe. He would do nothing she didn’t want him to do. If she just wanted to kiss all night, he would do that with no questions asked, no pressure given, but if she allows him to do this, he’ll make it an unforgettable evening for her. 

He didn’t have to finish his words for her to know what he was asking. He wanted her, and the feeling was mutual. She could feel her temperature rising by the second, the fever that Joe was feeling transferring to her. She’d release her bottom lip from her teeth, her body nearly screaming at her to allow him to put out the blaze that he started.

Slowly, she leans down, letting her lips hover over his. “I’m here, aren’t I?” she murmurs. If it weren’t for the glasses of wine, she probably wouldn’t be here in this room. She’d be in an Uber on her way home by now, and he would have let her go. Liquid courage prevails for both parties. Nessa presses a teasing kiss to his bottom lip. “Take me.” She tells him, now gently kissing his top lip.

Joe elongates his neck, closing that toying gap between the pair. Their lips reconnect for the third time tonight, but only briefly. He reluctantly parted from her, his head turning as he did so. His eyes darted around the room as if he had forgotten where he was. Brown eyes landed on the stairs that lined the east wall, his legs carrying them over to it. He ascends the steps quickly, taking two steps at a time.

Nessa glances behind them, watching as they quickly leave the first floor. She giggles, her legs tightening around the man.“Slow down. I’m not going anywhere.” She tells him. Joe stops at the top of the steps, a huff leaving his lips. His heart had an extra reason to soar thanks to the weighted cardio he had just endured. 

“I know, I know,” He breathes. “I’m just…” He drifts off when she pulls back to look at him. The moment their eyes meet, his thoughts leave. “Just…”

“Excited?” She finishes. He lifts his eyebrows at her, considering her word choice. He presses his lips together, pushing them up into his nose.

“Something like that.” He murmurs. 

Vanessa unwraps her arms from his neck, her small hands resting on either side of his face. He is one beautiful man, she thought. Though she wanted to tell him that, her brain would stop her. Joe is well aware of his beauty. He wakes up and looks at himself in a mirror every morning. Women probably jump at the opportunity to have his attention, and men likely envy him. Joe was undeniably handsome—there was no denying that. “Something like that.” She repeats. Her thumbs would brush over his cheekbones briefly before she leaned in to kiss him again. 

Joe could find his way to the bed now. It was a straight shot back, ten steps, and he would be there. One, he thought as he took the first step. He takes the next step, counting silently in his head with each step he takes. Nine, ten—. The front of his thighs hit the edge of the bed, informing him he had reached his destination.

He leans over and presses Nessa into the soft bedding beneath them, their lips still attached. His hands slide up the curves of her hips, his fingers wrapping around the elastic of her underwear. He breaks the kiss, standing from her. Joe taps her left hip, silently requesting to remove her undergarment. 

Without a word, Vanessa lifts her hips, allowing Joe to remove the damp panty clinging to her skin. He balls up the article of clothing and tosses it over his right shoulder. His hand would move between her legs, finding her warm, wet center. In response, she shivers at the feel of his hand against her. Two fingers would slide along her folds before slowly pushing into her. She sucked in a loud gasp as she squeezed Joe’s hips with her thighs, her back slightly arching off the mattress. He presses his right knee into the bed, leaning over her again.

Joe would kiss her lips to her cheek, trailing along her jawline, before burying his face in the softness of her throat. His thick fingers move slowly within her, pulling a scant breath from her with each thrust of his hand. He hungrily kisses her neck, biting and sucking to create little markings on her throat. 

Wow, they were really about to do this. Despite both previously deciding not to pursue this course of action, they ultimately ended up in bed together. Hypocrites. Drunken, lustful hypocrites. Oh well, this will be a problem for tomorrow if they want to consider it one. Either way, the pair would have to address it.

“Joe,” she moans, her hips moving against his hand now. Her breathing gradually became labored, her body feeling like a fire was consuming it. She was bound to orgasm soon. It had been so long since the last time she had even cared to be intimate with someone, and this feeling she was experiencing was not containable. His hand would quicken in pace, drawing her closer and closer to her climax. “Wait, wait…” she panted. She squeezes his hips with her thighs once more, her hips tensing as she does so. Toes would curl against the edge of the bed as Vanessa pushed her hips further into the mattress.

Her walls begin to spasm around his fingers as she cums. “God!” She exclaims, relaxing into the bed once more. Joe lifts his head from her throat, his dark hair covering their faces. Her chest rose and fell as she attempted to catch her breath. That was...wow. Their eyes would lock with each other only briefly. Joe removes his fingers from her, causing her eyes to flutter at the sensation. He brings his fingers to his mouth, slowly lapping her fluids from them. He maintained eye contact, humming at the taste while he did this.

That was the hottest thing she had ever seen before. Heat settled between her legs again, followed by a swelling pulse. Vanessa flips them over, trading places with the man now beneath her. She sits up in his lap, her hands grabbing the bralette she had on. She tugs it over her head, tossing it to the side to join her underwear on the floor.

Dark locks would perfectly frame themselves around his face as Joe stared up at the naked woman above him. His tongue would drag along his bottom lip at the sight. The growing bulge in his boxer briefs was aching to be free from its fabric confines. His hands would find her thighs, his thumbs caressing the skin beneath the pads.

Nessa reaches forward, her hand wedging between the bed and the back of his neck. She pulls the man up to her, their lips colliding in a ravenous kiss. Joe wraps a strong arm around her waist, lifting off the bed slightly. His other hand was peeling the elastic band of his underwear down, freeing his lower half from the piece of clothing. 

Without hesitation, Nessa reaches down between the pair. Her hand wraps around the shaft of his cock, positioning it at her entrance. She breaks the kiss, a shaky breath leaving her mouth as she lowers herself onto him. "Fuck," He breathes. Their foreheads gently pressed against each other in response to the feel. There was a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of soft panting as she started to move her hips. 

Her head drops back, exposing her throat to the man beneath her. His warm breath tickled her neck as his lips grazed its surface. Joe shudders slightly before allowing that muscle within his mouth to taste her skin. Though they just left a saltwater pool, she was surprisingly sweet on his tongue. At this moment, he decided to make it a mission to taste every inch of her tonight.

And so he did. It was an unforgettable night indeed. 

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

As if someone shouted at her to wake up, Vanessa's eyes opened suddenly. Her gaze meets the high ceilings above her. She blinked a few times before slowly turning her head towards the figure she was lying in bed with. Joe was sound asleep beside her, his hair shielding his face from sight. Her eyes widened as she quickly looked away from him. 

Oh God..., she thought, bringing her hand to her face. She pinches the bridge of her nose, gently shaking her head in disappointment. May the morning after regret commence. 

Carefully, she begins to remove herself from the bed. Joe's arm was draped across her body, holding her in place like a clip. Delicately, Nessa grabs his forearm and lifts it, careful not to disturb him. She gradually shimmies from the comfort of the bed. Once out of his arms and the bed, Nessa skims the room for her underclothes. She spots them on the opposite side of the room. 

She turned her attention back to Joe, watching him as she quietly made her way over to her bra and panties. She leans down slowly, her hands quickly snatching up the undergarments. Her heart beat thunderously in her chest as she peered behind her for the stairs. She descends them backward, keeping her eyes on the man sleeping peacefully in the bed on the second floor. Once he vanishes from her line of sight, she turns and rushes quietly down to the first floor. 

It has been years since the last time Vanessa had snuck out of a stranger's home. Seriously, it was a sport she ditched after college. Once her feet touched the first floor, Nessa put on her underwear. "What the fuck did you do?" She whispers angrily to herself as she moves through the living room. 

There was a dull aching behind her eyes from the alcohol she consumed the night before, and all the natural light pouring into this room was not helping her. Her clothes were draped over the back of the enormous couch that centered the room. She grabs the hoodie and sweatpants, quickly putting them on. Her phone was still in the deep right pocket of her pants. She fishes it out, immediately opening the Uber app. She needed to get out of here fast.

Her shoes were on against the wall next to the door. She slips them on, reaching for the door shortly after. With one last glance at the suite, she vanishes beyond the door.

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

A/N: AHHHHHH IT HAPPENED! THEY FINALLY HAPPENED!!! There was so many people who wanted this to happen in the last chapter, but I had plans! Plans that involved writer's block for several weeks at a time lmao. I won't lie to you, I been getting my ass kicked mentally for like a month now. Hopefully, everything will start looking up soon. Don't worry, it's just work that's got me drained.

Shout out to one of my friends for spamming me with nothing but Roman pictures for 5 hours to force me to finish this lmao

🏷️ list: @thesamoanqueen @whatdoeseverybodywant @headoftheetable @mzv11 @southerngirl41 @yana3sworld @wanderingreigns @wrestlingprincess80 @siriuslycee @vebner37 @astridxxxxxx @alichesmi @tshepisho @scarlettnoir01 @brokenglassslippers @reignsboy19 @sayyestoheav3nn @cyberdejos2 @empressdede @sisinever @truefant4sy @paigereeder @tbmotw @fearlesschimera @venusesworld @usoholic @sageispunk @bebesobrielo @jstarr86 @vibessonvibes @issahyland @fandomphasess @evilli0s 

[theagstd]

One Night Stand

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; strangers to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter Two ; wc | 2.7k

primarily on Wattpad

Chapter Two

index ⇢ next chapter

You could feel the pause in the revolution of the damn world ever since your eyes have met that one man's who you met that random night. you managed to forget him completely but when your eyes bore into the man who is just a few meters away, seated on his office chair, in a damn tailored suit with his hair perfectly parted and oiled, staring at your eyes wondering how the fuck are you here? you just forgot your whole purpose on why you're in this building.

"You?" he managed to mutter after the 2 minutes of staring into each other's souls, which felt like it lasted a whole fucking life time. you immediately blink your eyes and look away everywhere else except the man's face. there's just no way that the man you fucked one night turned out to be the CEO of the company you applied to.

You couldn't stand any longer, your feet felt weak and you badly wanted to puke. the way your stomach churns at the thought about working for him makes you feel sick. it's best if you just walk away and say nothing, he wouldn't want you standing here anyway.

"I think i will take your leave-" you mumbled under your breath but just loud enough so he could hear you and you turned to leave. what stops your tracks was when the man spoke abruptly without any hesitation, his tone sounded like he didn't even recognize you.

"You're here for business, let's talk business." 'sure thing, haha' you think to yourself when you hear him speak, like as if it was just a hallucination and that he didn't actually mean it to you. Because why would he want to talk business with the woman he fucked one night. he didn't dismiss you, neither does any sense of disapproval come out of his mouth or hums so you turned back to glance at him, there he was busy writing on a few papers.

his eyes flickered over to yours , pointing his pen at you, then the office chair in front of him. you gather some confidence as you take steps towards the CEO. pulling out a chair, you take a seat and take a deep breath. all you feel is embarrassment, nothing more, nothing less.

the man has seen you naked, that's all that makes you wanna throw up, as now here he sees you fully clothed, linen skirt till the cuff of your ankle, a long sleeved black blouse and hair tied into a low pony. well, does it matter, though? The man in front of you looks least bothered by your presence and it seems like it does not affect him so congrats, the job still seems up for you so you heave a sigh and wait till he speaks out.

Although the silence is slow and is gradually beginning to poison the already tense atmosphere, this allows you to play with your fingers, something that you usually do when you feel anxious. If anyone sees your face they would say you're looking the least nervous as you sit upright, your eyes hold it's own determination and strength and the subtle smile on your face, anyone would be fooled by your facade. however, under the table, your fingers dance to their own tunes of anxiety.

you tried your best not to bite on your cheeks or lips as it would seem obvious that the past is playing a role in your behaviour right now. "So, Ms- lee y/n?" There he finally reads your name, the name that he was not told at the night of the sex, today here, he's reading it aloud to let you know that you're his applicant. as it reads from the resume that he holds in his hand while the other has his pen clasped between his two fingers, the two fingers that were inside you that night, to be specific he's had all 5 fingers inside you, worked three at a time until he managed to poke his pinky in too while his thumb played with your clit.

he swirls the pen around while he continues to skim through the paper that he doesn't seem quite interested in. "Alright, I'm going to ask you a few questions, I need you to answer them." "Sure, " "What qualities does a creative director most need to be successful? "" The CEO finally took the time to question you. His gaze lays on you, which doesn't seem to have an effect on you.

he notices that you don't seem any different from the woman he met at the bar. He still sees the confidence oozing out from you as you begin to answer his question with no hesitation.

"Creativity is number one, of course. innovations that need to be satisfied with the latest needs, technology, and tastes of the generation along with that comes people skills. In order to deal with the options of the writers, designers, and other creative staff. Project management and people skills are most important in order to be successful."

You've given the answer right away, with no filter, no fear, there's no room for mistakes. you can't lose this wonderful opportunity to work at a renowned business with the perfect number of salaries and the most wanted position that you've worked your ass off. A silly night can't possibly ruin a whole career, right? of course, it wouldn't, not when you are fine with forgetting the past even though the man looks scrumptious in his freshly tailored suit that hugs his muscles ever so needily. His tattoos are covered, like they don't hold an existence in the man's life. 'interesting.'

you think as you tilt your head now knowing his little possible secret.

The man nods at your answer, impressed with the collection of words that pops out of your mouth instantly, he thinks that maybe you could give him a fluent answer to any of his questions with that look on your face. he looks down at his paper, and he begins to write a few words,

that takes your attention, so you look at how the pen goes smoothly on the white sheet of paper that lies in front of him. he decides to ask you one more question just so he wouldn't have to keep you in a haunting silence while he reads each page of your CV.

"What would make you an effective creative director at our company?" This question specifically implies that you nod attentively and positively, taking a few seconds to think through how exactly you're gonna word it for him. your eyes somehow flicker to his hand as you notice how his tattoo is slowly peeping out of the sleeve of his suit,

it almost makes you wanna laugh, how he's worn layers, hiding that wonderful canvas that you think would potentially make him an even hotter boss, Jungkook does not miss out on your gaze as he looks down at his sleeve as realises that you were interested in his tattoo that night and so are you today, it allows a slight smirk to grow up his lips that he soon bit back.

"An effective director brings vision and abilities to work as a team, and I believe that my ideas and capabilities are at its peak. with leadership skills, communication and a strategic-" the oozing words of boldness and certainty that Jungkook hears, it already allows him to know that you're one of a kind yet he knows that the past he's had with you has no chance.

"That's it. Your session is done. the man spoke, interrupting your answer, leaving your jaw to drop at his unbelievable and unprofessional take. This is unethical in the laws of an interview. if he was gonna stop you from speaking, then he shouldn't have even asked! "Sure." The tone you used may seem disrespectful, but likewise, he did the same to you too. clearing your throat, you tucked your fallen bangs behind your ear and stood from the seat.

"Thank you Sir-"

"Mr Jeon." it comes out quite arrogantly, like his name holds some sort of power. 'narcissist.' You whisper under your breath, looking at him, but it seems like his ego is taller. it's the way he closes your file and leans back on his chair, the chair that's extra in comfort, support, and obviously much more expensive than your whole apartment itself. somehow, that name comes out of his mouth, the one that he so proudly said, 'it's confidential, let's keep it private.' This reminds you of that night.

-

"Think you can fit me? crying for it so much that you don't even need a finger to prep you?" The naked man spoke raspily into your ears while he stayed still hovered over you. looking down at you as he uses his thumb to wipe off that red gloss since he's unable to kiss you on the lips. He doesn't do that, kissing on the lips. it's too intimate in his books, says it should be done by 'the one', and of course, it's not him.

Even though your lips look so full, that makes him want to break his own ethics. maybe being unethical one night might not be too bad. "Hmm." You hum, looking deeply into his eyes that were dark, black and lustful. They are pitch black now as the candles all lit up, giving more dimness in the surrounding. The sex was being delayed, but it's all his fault. He stopped it to show off his thing. "Judging by the looks of it, it's probably the size of my ex. So yes, of course you'll fit me."

you murmured to him, seeing him clench his jaw as his tongue slipped against his inner cheek to cover up his embarrassment. he didn't like it, the dom girl aura that you're giving out. he thinks it's getting out of hand and that he should show you that he's the one here, he's the boss. but at the same time, he likes this challenge. the game.

"Is that why you left him?" "Probably." "Sad, well then let me prove you wrong-" he pushed his tip inside you. It didn't even pass inside, and you whined in pain as it left a burning sensation. you hadn't had sex for a while, it was bound to happen. "fuck stop-" you pushed him away as you shut your eyes. "oh no, does it hurt?  think I won, already. now let me prep you, darling." he pushes his fingers inside slowly,

allowing you to open up for him. one finger at a time. "narcissist." You whisper under your breath while you moan, making him chuckle. "At least tell me your name, Mr. Big. don't want me to moan your name for you?" "It's confidential. Let's keep it private, shall we?"

-

"Thank you, Mr Jeon." You walk out of his cabin, thinking what the hell would an extremely rich CEO be doing at a normal cheap club? Shouldn't he own a club or be at some fancy place that serves a glass of chilled water for $20. Funny enough, you know that when you step out of this building, the chances of you working is almost a 0.

it is understandable why he wouldn't recruit you. It's definitely gonna be uncomfortable if he takes you. but you still hope he would. You can't afford to get rejected. Apart from that, it's also not an easy task to find more jobs to apply for. Jeon Industries is really a massive company, and working there would bring you so much. not just the salary but the position as well as the name and recognition to be an employee there, so you really hope he doesn't hold onto the past.

stopping at a cafe, you got yourself a honey almond milk with extra cream and extra caramel along with a sandwich since you hadn't had your breakfast. walking back home, you got a missed call from Kayla, so you decided to call her back. "gurl, how did it go?" "Uh, it went well."

you lied to her, she doesn't have to know everything about the meeting, especially since she's not a very close friend to you so it's not very relevant to speak about how your potential boss was your one night stand. "So ya think the job is yours?" While folding your clothes, you pause and think for a while, zoning out, you sigh and then speak. "Honestly, there's more chances that i don't get it, but we will see." "Oh, come on, it's their loss if they don't recruit you." that made you chuckle because, of course, she was right. It's definitely their fault. for sure.

After catching up with her, you cleaned the mess of your little apartment and changed your clothes to the gym kit. The gym is at the top floor of the apartment, where you usually spend an hour or so. fitness has always been your thing. You don't do any heavy lifting. What you do is light and just enough to keep you looking gorgeous and fit the way you want to be. and right now, the job and Mr Jeon is at the back of your mind, maybe not exactly, but you pushed it back just so it doesn't interrupt your workout.

you're kinda afraid, to be honest. it's not like you're all with it. you're not. It's very scary to know that the man you slept with is actually a very famous CEO in Seoul. it makes you wanna throw up with that anxiety that forms inside you. it makes your stomach clench each time you think about it. he could easily spill it out, and that could ruin your whole damn life in career especially. if he was some random guy who parties and fucks around with every woman he sees, that would be different. But this rich dude? bullshit.

'that's what you found on your first night stand y/n? as much as it's hot and fucking awesome that you fucked some rich ass dude who also looks like a fucking meal, its also insanely creepy and weird'. you really hope you get this job, you really need another place to stay in, this apartment does not suffice you anymore. the whole confident mask you put on, is very easy to crumble down.

if this job isn't given to you, you're seriously gonna leave Seoul and move back to your parents but if you do earn it, it's still easy to make this confidence shift to cowardness. It's both difficult. you're not sure what you want at this point.

-

on the other hand, Jungkook. who watched you walk out of his office, turns his chair to face the other buildings from the large transparent glass. he's able to watch the vehicles move, see the birds fly, and also view the sun set. he places his fingers under his chin and rubs them on his lips, contemplating what he experienced right now.

There's one thing that bothers him, how you were so fearless and self-assured. He thought that it was just the alcohol's effect, but no, he now knows that it's just within you. You are composed, calm, and have that attitude. Your answers gave perfect justice to each question he asked, and you held that spirit to work to be a part of this organisation.

he could feel that you knew everything, you knew what you were saying. and he liked it, no lie in that. but he wasn't sure of this all. Would it be a good idea to recruit a woman he slept with? what if you took that opportunity and spread the information to everyone- This thought made him immediately uncomfortable. He doesn't like the sound of it.

it's best if we find someone else. ringing to his assistant, Ms. Nam, he waited until she walked inside his room after a knock. "Is that all the applicants?" "Yes. Mr Jeon, they were on the shortlist." Jungkook wasn't satisfied with anyone. He thinks it was only you who managed to pass his test well.

"Are you sure?" "yes, Mr Jeon, if they did not match your expectations, we only have Mr Park-" "No. not him." He placed his elbows on the table and zoned out, thinking about his decisions. "Mr Jeon, we have a meeting scheduled with Han Paris. and we need a designer-"

"Yes, i'm aware. "

This leaves Jungkook with no choice.

"Email Ms Lee Y/L/N. Send her all the details that's required." "Sure, Mr Jeon.

next chapter ⇢

[choster33]

Bridgerton S3 Episode 4 Reaction

So I finally watched the last episode of Part 1 and it was everything I wanted it to be! It was so steamy and full of Colin angst. I am going to write and react about what I saw so if you want to read on!

First off, the rest of the Featheringtons are trash. They're hilarious, but horrible sisters and mother to Penelope. I will one day write an essay about the trauma that Pen has gone through and etc. because ugh. Now on to Lord Debling who is adorable with his plant present.

Yes a nod to Penelope sitting at that settee and enjoying the view of Bridgerton House aka where her love Colin is at. I think she isn't leading Lord Debling on here, she genuinely is getting tired of being in the corner, playing what if and ready for a real relationship. She's not in love with Lord Debling, but ready to accept something real over her years of fantasizing over Colin for nothing.

I agree with people who wrote that the scene that Colin is rereading his journal, he's going over what Penelope has read so that he knows what she read and enjoyed and what would be going through her mind. Lady Bridgerton for sure knows that Colin is in love with Penelope! She knows he's in love and he couldn't take his eyes off of Penelope. And she's no idiot, the boy is acting love sick and she can smell that a mile away.

Tillie Arnold is an amusement, but not endgame.

Is it just me or is Lord Anderson not that funny or charming? I don't mind him courting Violet or anything to do with his person, but I don't get it. Maybe I'm taking cues from Lady Danbury who is an impeccable judge of character, but I'm meh about him.

LOL! I love Queen Charlotte and Brimsley! The step another pace backwards comment was gold. "You read me too well."

Awww look at Francesca's little face! She likes John so much! They just get each other and the two actors portray that so well. The joy they have when together, the unspoken silences, and the chemistry they have is evident and I like them!

Lord Samadani is portrayed perfectly as well- he is handsome and dashing and everything that a traditional girl would have wanted. But not what Francesca wants.

Aw, poor Cressida. I never thought I would think or say that, but here we are. The writers have reframed her into a victim of the ton and has tried to free her from the trope of Mean Blonde Bitch.

Oh, Pen it's so obvious you're staring at Colin. Even Lord Debling can tell something's up. I really like Lord Debling, I think he's so cute! I know he's not endgame, but he's doing everything right so far. Asking her how he would secure her hand and putting out feelers of her reaction to a proposal.

Oho the infamous prostitute scene! Yes, he seems incredibly disinterested. Of course his enthusiasm is elsewhere it's with Penelope! I don't mind this scene so much because it just heightens Colin's disinterest with any woman except for Penelope.

Ha! I love how Francesca just accosted Lord Kilmartin! She knows what she wants and it's this man! They are so cute and awkward and adorable! Francesca wants love, but doesn't want to or know how to play games like Daphne did. They are the on the spectrum romance I didn't know I wanted or needed.

Ooh more Cressida backstory and it is grim. Her family and house are so cold. Yeesh. No wonder she is who she is and does what she does. Eloise is sweet to come by and check up on Cressida, she's a good friend. Her father seems like a pill.

I like the Mondrich's and understand them having class/adjustment issues about suddenly becoming part of the ton. It's good to have some contrast and real people part of the main story, but I also don't understand Will's determination to not see how it looks for him to be serving as bartender. With that act he seemingly doesn't understand the whole have/have not system the ton is based on. Wake up, Will!

These assholes. I never liked these puffed up men of the ton who parade about as rakes, but are more likely just assholes who've slept with a girl or two, who they've most likely had to pay. I'm not a prude or judgmental, but I am with Colin and would be sick of them too.

Penelope being wary of her engagement with Lord Debling makes sense. The girl has been in love with Colin Bridgerton for years and still is and so it would be hard for her to just throw that all away and go with Lord Debling, whom she is not in love with. She's not opposed to him, but also waiting for true love.

Ha! We get more love sick and pining Colin! It's sad to see him like this, but also sweet poetic justice for all the years Penelope was pining alone for him. Lady Bridgerton is such a good mother! She knows Colin like the back of her hand and I love the part where she talks about armor. She knows he's been playing a part lately and wants him to be his Cinnamon Roll self.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she mentions Penelope and getting a proposal! That minx! She's sharp and sly and knows exactly what to say to get a response from her children. Lol.

The ballet was gorgeous! That hair piece OMG it was stunning! I like the Queen, but no Francesca will not end up with Lord Samadani!

The ballet sequence is interesting because of Penelope's reaction to it. The ballet is a romance story and Penelope is wrapped up in it. Other people are admiring the artistry and appreciating the dancers, but Penelope is swept up in it. Which proves that a loveless marriage will not do for her.

See, back to Lord Anderson and I get why he would like Violet, but not why she would like him back. They are reading friends to me than late in life love match. I just don't see instant chemistry or anything.

Tillie is beautiful and amusing, but eventually Benedict is going to chafe at the hiding things and lack of romance. Clearly Tillie is her own woman and not needing a man, which will turn Benedict off eventually I believe.

I actually like the Cressida and Eloise relationship. What am I saying? But I do! I think it's cute. Cressida is in sore need of a friend to soften her and Eloise needs one that listens to her.

Yes! Colin thinking back to that one day and the glass and the looks and the comments about eyes. They were so close and comfortable with each other because they were friends before feelings and etc got in the way.

More Francesca and John and they are very cute. She's abrupt with him at first because she thinks he doesn't like her, but lights up when she sees his gesture. This man gets her to her very soul and it's very cute. Lemonade isn't going to cut it man! She has someone who reads her very soul! The queen's face lol!

Excuse me! Colin is here for a purpose, boys, out of the way!

Oof, you were being honest, but way to fumble the ball Lord Debling. He knows that Penelope loves romance and romance novels and couldn't throw her a bone about one day being in love. Maybe that's what it is and wasn't meant to be, but oof.

Here comes unhinged Colin and I love it! I have been spoiled by this from all over and here it is! Yes walking right up to a dancing couple like that quite scandalous! This is going to be good.

Eros and Psyche indeed! Cressida can be a cow at times, but she's right here. Everything she's putting out here is right. They are old friends, but something is going on between them and directly across the street of that window Penelope's obsessed with. She gives Lord Debling all the answers and clues to put the pieces together.

I feel for Penelope because she feels like Lord Debling is her one and only shot at a husband, but Lord Debling is not a fool and has figured out about her and Colin. He's not wrong and the two of them would not have been a good match, but I feel bad for Penelope.

Colin running down this carriage, yes very unhinged behavior indeed! The boy is lovestruck! Those eyes when he says he cannot leave her alone! They are so in love and the total opposite reaction we see from him with the prostitutes. He is all emotion, all heart on his sleeve and I love to see it.

They're getting it on, they're doing it! Eeek, squee, all the feels! That moment after they start kissing where they look at each other to see if this is real and yes, yes it is! Then they get back into it hot and heavy. He's going for more and she gives the nod of consent. Yes, let's do this Colin! I've been spoiled about the fingering but it is hot! Yes Go get it girl!

Aww that moment of laughter between the two so cute! I've seen other posts on this and it's a moment where they are two old friends and giggling together and that is the nature of their romance and relationship and I agree. It's utterly adorable.

Ok!!! Ugh now I know why so many people can't wait for part 2. Fortunately for me, it's only a couple more days and I can't wait!!!! We're going to have Lady Whistledown drama, Eloise drama, a lot of Polin sex, and a marriage! I can't wait I can't wait!

[angst-fairygodmother]

Hi I was wondering if I could request a Luther X Sloane cliches and tropes #33 please

A/N: Hello Nonny! It’s taken me a while to get here, but I give you what will hopefully be the first of many Luther/Sloane fics. This was a good prompt for them, because it fits really well into the canon, so I was able to find their voices and relationship before I dip into the ones that might take more of an AU, so thank you for that as well. I hope you enjoy! Word Count: 1092 Rating: T - implied smut/suggestive themes; Spoilers for The Umbrella Academy s3; minor instances of self-hatred and body image issues; cheese

Sure, the Sparrows had attacked them, Ben had swung the first hit at Klaus (for no reason, Klaus was just being Klaus). But he couldn't really blame them. After all, it wasn't that long ago (just a year and two time jumps, practically no time at all) that he would have done the same thing if a gang of black-clad wackadoos had shown up in the living room, without half the shit they'd said today. It was what Hargreeves were trained to do. And it wasn't like anyone got hurt…Seriously hurt…they recovered. 

It made total sense. It was perfectly rational. But he still wanted to kick their smug…smugness into next week (or let Five do it since he was most likely to manage to do actually that). 

Except for one. He'd only caught glimpses, not able to track any one enemy, or ally, through the chaos, but when he did there was something about her that felt like it was pulling him in. She was the Earth to his Moon. He needed to see her again. 

Being kidnapped wasn’t exactly the ideal way to meet a potential partner, but Luther was nothing if not an optimist. And the smile she gave him when the Sparrows approached wasn’t like Ben’s smirk or the bird-woman’s scowl. It was sweet, and it stayed that way. As they talked about their dreams (those absent wishes of someone who didn’t really get to choose their own destiny), and their interests, and the moon, there was no judgment or hesitation. She looked at him like he was whole and human and…maybe even handsome. He wanted to stay, just for her.

~

“Everyone thinks I should stay away from you because you’re dangerous,” Sloane murmured, almost absently while she drew hearts on his chest with his fingers. 

“That’s funny,” he chuckled awkwardly, even though it really wasn’t that funny at all. “My siblings said the same thing about you.”

He didn’t feel like he needed to flinch away from her gaze or her touch, especially after what had just happened between them. It was a new feeling and one he wanted to bask in, and the hazy post-coital glow that probably helped. But Sloane sat up suddenly, pushing away from him with a fire in her eyes, and…nope there it was again, the urge to hide himself away behind high walls and thick woolen coats. 

“What?” She looked shocked, angry, and worst of all, hurt.

“Yeah, my family thinks that yours is evil and that I'm naively falling for a honeytrap and that you're going to turn on me and kill all of us or something. Which is ridiculous.” 

“Us?! Your family is the one full of murderers! Or have you already forgotten Alphonso and Jayme? And probably Marcus. And JFK…somehow. I should be the one worried you're going to turn on me!”

“I already told you, Harlan wa–” he sighed, cutting himself off. “Actually, it doesn't matter. I promise you Sloane, I love my family, but I won't betray you for them, I promise. I would never. I…”

He couldn't finish the words. He was scared to. Some Number One. He couldn't keep his family from fighting each other. He had fallen in love with the enemy (even though he thought it was stupid to see them as the enemy, or maybe that was another point against him) and was too much of a coward to tell her. Reginald had been right, always, about Luther's flaws. 

But of course he loved her. Sloane was so…perfect. She was beautiful and powerful and so much smarter than him (than any of his siblings probably, except maybe Five). She was funny, in the same awkward way that spoke to his own sense of humor. She loved travel and reading poetry. She was actually interested in his stories about the moon. She never flinched from his touch or questioned his appearance. And she was so incredibly kind. Anyone would be stupid not to love her. 

And maybe, if he could just find the words to tell her, to tell the whole world, or what was left, the others would understand. His family and hers. And they’d be able to be together. 

“Luther,” the way she said his name made him feel like he was flying, and he wanted to hold onto it forever. “I love you too.” 

“You…” he felt like his brain couldn’t catch up with the rest of reality. His heart raced and his tongue felt clumsy and too big. He thought he might be dying. And he never wanted it to stop. “You do?”

“Yeah, of course I do. I wouldn’t have snuck you in here after everything if I didn’t.”

“I…that’s great! I mean me too. Love you. I love you, too.” She giggled as he stumbled over his words and flushed red. “Sorry. I sound stupid. I’ve just, never had someone say they love me before.”

“You don’t sound stupid, Luther. I wish you wouldn’t talk about yourself like that.”

“I…sorry.”

“It’s okay, just something you have to work on, maybe we can do it together? Because you’re pretty amazing, and you should treat yourself like it.” 

“How are you so perfect?”

“Oh…I’m not perfect…”

He cradled her face gently in his big hands so that he could kiss her softly, their mouths melting together with a sigh. “Yes you are, and I love you, and I want to shout it from the rooftops, except we’re trying to sneak around right now. But someday, soon.” 

It was Sloane’s turn to blush, cheeks heating adorably as she smiled up at him. “I’d like that. As soon as we figure out how to fix our families.” 

“Right. We should probably get back to that then?”

She looked thoughtful before leaning in again, so that her breath tickled his face. “It’s late, and we can’t do anything until morning…so it could probably wait a little while, if you wanted to do something else…” 

His eyebrows scrunched as he thought, her meaning somehow going over his head despite their respective positions and nakedness.

“Just kiss me again Luther, please?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, I can definitely do–”

She laughed as she cut him off, rolling them both so that she sat across his hips while she kissed him, pressing their bodies close. They could figure out the future and their families and whatever else the universe threw their way in the morning. For now, for tonight, it was just the two of them and their love and the full moon through the windowpane.

[ddarker-dreams]

Pondering SR reader except w the “oh no theres only one bed in this hotel room ill take the floor” “youll hurt your back! Just sleep w me :3!” trope this fine afternoon

THIS IDEA IS TOO CUUUUUUUUUUUUUTE i might just need to do a full fic for one of the characters at some point. until now, here's some hcs:

[Scarlet Ribbons description]

Giorno

Giorno has something of a devious streak. He is a gentleman, yes, but there are some Brando genes hidden in there. So he may or may not have made the booking mistake on purpose so he could get closer to you. There’s no definitive proof, but the slight smile on his face as you enter the room to find a single bed almost gives him away. He would be the first to offer you the bed (papa Dio in hell yelling at him to seize this opportunity goes ignored), and apologize for the mistake. Knowing your friendly disposition, it doesn’t come as a surprise when you offhandedly offer to share the bed; though his face is dusted pink. The two of you could follow your night skincare routine together and exchange tips. He almost loses his cool when you compliment how he looks with his hair down.

Bruno

Bruno, who was carrying your luggage in, just sorta clears his throat upon entering the room. He’s mumbling something about going to speak to the clerk at the front desk, and you tell him it’s late; there’s no need to bother them. The two of you lived under the same roof for a while, what’s the harm in sharing a bed? Bruno is too exhausted from the ongoing job you’re on to offer a counterpoint. He does his best not to stare at you in your nightclothes, but it’s an uphill battle, as it compliments the curves of your body perfectly. Bruno keeps checking to make sure you’re really comfortable with the arrangements. After all, the last thing he’d ever want is to come off too strong. He keeps things professional to the best of his abilities. 

Fugo

Fugo may or may not have a breakdown. Tomorrow you have important work to do — how is he going to get a wink of sleep with his crush just a few inches away from him? Then there’s you, already changing into your pajamas, asking if he wants the left side of the bed or the right. He wonders if it’s a cultural difference that lends to your easygoing nature. Fugo decides to count his blessings, at least you’re going to be sleeping next to him, and not the others who practically drool in your presence. You’ll end up falling asleep ages before he does, his heart rate is going too fast for him to calm down. Sleep remains ever elusive. So he’ll turn on a dim nightlight as not to disturb you and read, failing to notice Purple Haze who managed to slip through the cracks. His Stand took it upon itself to guard you in your sleep. 

Mista

He does that nervous laughter thing. Mista has to be on his A game every second he’s around you, wooing you with his machismo and wit; now he has to keep calm all night? Starts contemplating what he should do when he hears you giggling, and looks over to see you having a pillow fight with the Pistols. They’ve stolen your attention from him yet again. The six of them are working together to lift a pillow, and by the time they manage to hit you with it, you’re beside yourself with laughter from the sight. Mista’s not going to let his Stand outdo him. He grabs a pillow, tells you in the coolest (aka dorkiest) voice that he’s not going to show you any mercy. The two of you end up falling asleep without incident from exhaustion later on. Mista’s arm is going to find its way around you at same point, a fact that will fluster him come morning. 

Narancia

Narancia doesn’t really consider the implications right away. He’s too busy feeling excited over being in a hotel room. Chances are it’s his first time, he wasn’t ever able to afford something this fancy. You’ll have to stop him from ordering one of everything from room service (Bucciarati’s credit card was spared another day). Narancia is going to sit criss cross on the bed with you, talking about anything and everything, maybe scooting closer when you’re not paying attention. The two of you prank call Fugo at Narancia’s behest. If it was Narancia calling at 1 am, Fugo wouldn’t have picked up the phone, but he saw your name pop up and answered after a few rings (gotta not look too desperate). Then felt immense disappointment to hear the two of you giggling together. It’s a fun night, made even better by the chance to be by your side. 

Abbacchio

Abbacchio almost goes back to sleep in the car, only for you to pull him back in the room. You tell him you won’t bite. While you go about your night routine, he’s making a bed for himself on the floor; no amount of begging will get him to sleep in the same bed as you. Abbacchio reminds you that he is a man, after all. You shrug and say his loss (did he just hear you right...?). Truth be told, he’s nervous, he can’t think of a time he’s ever been around you for this long. You’ll be the first to fall asleep. He berates himself for it, but he ends up staring at you as you sleep, his face softening. You have him wrapped around your finger without knowing it. Come morning, he’ll have breakfast from the hotel ready, making sure to get all your favorites. (If you ask how he knows your favorite breakfast foods, he’s just going to give a noncommittal grunt). 

[pinkheadflowers]

🍄 non-request (event fic): yeonjun wants to bring you out for Valentines Day but you forgot about it, being too caught up with homework 

always my valentine -yeonjun-

 >> trope: “tells them to go away but doesn’t actually mean it x actually goes away”

 >> lil angst ⚡️ + lil sad 🌧 + fluff ☀️ , fem reader , established rs

 >> word count: 1464 

[ hello,, happy valentine’s day everyone!! this is a quick one i wrote for this special day and for #ficscafe trope event. I went a little MIA due to school but i do have some WIP so keep a lookout for that! enjoy~💓 ]

♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥   ♡

You were supposed to go out on a date with Yeonjun today but your professor had just assigned you some last minute homework that was due next week. You weren’t one to procrastinate or drag it to some other day, knowing well that you might forget about it. 

Yeonjun actually had a whole day planned for the both of you, only for them to be thrown out the window when he received your text, “Hey baby, I’m sorry I can’t make it today :( Professor gave us homework. I’ll be in the library the whole day trying to complete it. But I’ve eaten lunch already, don’t worry about me! Take care, love you! Muah”

He rolled his eyes at your text, “Stupid Professor.” He muttered underneath his breath. Despite the cancelled plan, he wanted to stay by your side on this special day, Valentine’s Day. Yeonjun was one to fully believe in the joy of this day, he loved how the air would be full of love. Therefore, he stopped by a florist and bought a bouquet of different coloured tulips. “Ah, young man, who are these for?” the cashier questioned him. He replied proudly, “For the one who captured my heart. I’m lucky to have her, ma'am.” She gave him a sweet smile, “Young love… A whole experience, isn’t it? Hold on to it well and strong darling. While some relationships don’t last, many are worth fighting for. Not all young love is mere puppy love. Last forever, you two.”

With that, she gave Yeonjun his change and packed the bouquet in a transparent plastic-boxed bag. Yeonjun thanked her and stepped out of the shop. Something about her words made him feel touched. He didn’t understand what it was about so he pushed them aside and made his way to the library.

You, on the other hand, were already pulling your hair off. You could definitely earn a hundred dollars should you get a dollar for everytime you groaned. The homework given was brain-wrecking which made you thankful that you decided to start on it now rather than suffering a little too late. A few pages later and you felt a presence beside you. You turned to your right to see your boyfriend towering you, showing his bright smile. You looked a little downwards and saw his hands reaching out to you, except it was filled with flowers of different colours. You gasped, “Yeonjun, these are so pretty.” Yeonjun spoke, “They’re for you, baby. Tulips. I love you so much.” You accepted the bouquet and stood up, giving him a tight hug. “I love them. Thank you Junnie. And I love you so much too.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips. 

Straight after, you placed the bouquet beside you on the table and went back to your homework. Yeonjun watched you as you went back to giving your full focus to the work in front of you, as if the whole flower-giving action didn’t happen. He simply thought that he came at the wrong time and that you probably had a whole train of thoughts aligned perfectly for your productivity stake. He understood that and took a seat beside you silently. Yeonjun simply stared at you - from the way you sat up straight to the way your lips mouthed the words you were reading and your eyebrows being furrowed from focusing too hard. Even in this state, he thought that you were such a perfect piece. Yeonjun gently patted your head, “Have you taken a break baby?”

You were unresponsive. Yeonjun chuckled lightly before pressing on, “Baby… Come on, take a break hmm? How long have you sat here?” Again, you didn’t reply. This time, however, you sighed a little too loudly.

Yeonjun turned concerned. You were definitely pushing yourself too hard and he did not like that the slightest bit. “Aren’t you going to take a break?” Yeonjun moved closer to you.

“Stop Yeonjun. Please, go away… Gosh.” Your eyes still stuck on the paper in front of you, you raised your voice at him a little. To you, you did not at all intend for your words to come out harshly. To Yeonjun, you completely did not want him around. His smile faltered and he moved back. With a really upset tone, he whispered “I’m sorry, I’ll go.”.

He left quietly and before he walked out the doors, he gave you another glance and yet you still had your head down, completely unfazed that he was no longer by your side.  Yeonjun sighed in defeat and headed out. He went wherever his legs led him. Not only was his heart shattered but he also wondered, should your professor not assign you any homework today, would you be as excited as he was for Valentines? 

A few moments later, he felt like cutting his legs off for bringing him to the park where tons of couples were seen showing off their love. That could easily be you and him but no. You would rather spend Valentines with that homework of yours. He continued walking until he found a secluded spot, away from everyone else. Although he felt that he was being childish, he could not understand why you had to shoo him away so aggressively. It wasn’t his fault you were given a difficult assignment neither was it his fault that today happens to be a special day. 

Yeonjun has always been so fond of Valentines because he saw how his father went all out every Valentines Day for his mother. He would take the day off and come up with a whole-day plan, especially for the both of them that he would have to bring Yeonjun to his grandparents’ place to babysit him. The couple would pick Yeonjun up at the end of the day with such elated expressions on their faces, telling him how they did some terrible job at painting, went cafe hopping and had dinner at a quiet diner. Whatever they did, there was definitely something special about this day and Yeonjun promised to treat this day as a special one too. He too would want to make his partner as elated as his mother was. 

Yeonjun stared at the sky and inhaled deeply. He wanted to beat himself up for feeling this way - feeling badly about this day. This day was supposed to be super enjoyable that every other day you and him had before could never compete. Soon, he received a call from you. The truth was, he didn’t want to answer it because he did not know what to say. Yet, he had no intention of leaving you hanging, “Hello?”

“Hey, Junnie… Where did you go?” You asked, packing up your papers. Yeonjun wanted to lie and said that he had an emergency to attend to but the words of the florist from earlier rang in his head “While some relationships don’t last, many are worth fighting for.”. There was no way he was going to let something minor hurt your relationship.

“I’m at the park. You know the bench a little behind the fountain? I’m right here.” “Got it, I’m coming. Wait for me please!” 

Yeonjun sat there and waited for you patiently. He did not want to go ahead with his plans anymore, thinking that he simply wants you by his side. He wouldn’t exactly say that he felt numb, but more disappointed that today did not go smoothly at all. He worked so hard to make sure everything wrong would go right, except he didn’t factor in that you would be given homework. 

A few minutes later, you arrived and sat next to him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out on you like that.”

He smiled at you, “It’s fine. Do you know what’s today?” You checked your phone, “Fourteenth February? Oh wait, Valentine's Day!”

You smacked your forehead. How could you be so ignorant? You knew how much Yeonjun loved this special day yet it slipped your mind. Yeonjun took your hand from your head and intertwined them “Those are tulips. Tulips represent deep love, just like how I’m so deeply in love with you.” The both of you locked eyes. The gaze exchanged was full of affection, no words were needed for the both of you to reassure the other that you’ll always be there no matter what. “Be my valentine?” Yeonjun asked.

“Will you be mine though?” You questioned playfully.

“You are always my valentine.” He brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on it. Your heart melted, what did you do to deserve him?

You stood up and pulled him along with you, “There’s this cafe nearby that I really wanna try!” He grinned at your excitement, “Lead the way, baby.”

[pinkrelish]

Thank you for all of your showstoping obito content that you put out. I’ve never been able to read long bits of writing but somthing about your stories just grabs my attention so well<3

May I ask for a crumb of obito content with a reader who is a little quiet and angsty (maybe a lil rebel babe)?

I wish this new year treats you well because you deserve it :)

a/n: this plot got away from me but i hope you still like it lmaoooo love uuuu 💕

SFW: fem!reader, office au, rivals to lovers, miscommunication trope

Words: 7k

Read: AO3

You had been working at your company for two years and things were going well. You were up for a promotion, the break room had better vending machines than your last office, and your coworkers were leagues more tolerable than the last people you worked with.. Except for one.

You were at your desk typing up a report due tomorrow at noon, eyeing the clock flickering over to a new hour, and panicking. You arrived at the office thirty minutes early to give yourself a generous headstart and still feared running out of time.

The door beeped as someone slid their badge into the lock and opened it. You waited on bated breath for his voice. Bunched your shoulders anticipating his overly friendly squeeze on your arm. Pinched your face in disgust picturing how he would walk in here all relaxed and nonchalant while you were stressed beyond belief.

Instead, Konan walked in, smiling at you. "Good luck," she whispered as she sat across from you in her cubicle. She gave you a thumbs up over her computer monitor and you returned it.

"I'll need it." You gave her a knowing look.

"Has he seriously not finished his half?"

"No, no," you said, keeping your voice low and scanning the area for your partner in question. Leaning towards her, shame hot on your neck as you bitched about him despite being the one running behind. "He finished two days ago, it's just-"

"You ladies talkin' about me?"

Of course. You should've known. He had a knack appearing at the most inopportune moments.

Obito snickered at your flustered state, amused at your little gasp as you sat up straight in your chair, wide eyes on your screen, clicking literally anything to appear busy, furthering your mortified expression when you deleted an important email on accident.

"Thought so."

You didn't need to turn around to know he was speaking to you with his dumb lopsided grin. Growing especially wicked when he curled the end of your ponytail around his finger and tugged ever so gently--just enough to piss you off--before letting it loose, and sitting at his desk. Diagonally from yours. With his annoying face perfectly in your field of vision at all times.

“I’m asking the boss for higher cubicle walls,” you mumbled to yourself, hunching so he couldn’t see you.

It never ceased to frustrate you how it seemed Obito goofed off at work all day, and yet, finished his half of your project before you. You were sure he managed to do it on purpose just to rub it in your face. Using his free time to go out of his way to aggravate you.

All you wanted was an espresso from the fancy coffee machine in the break room, but no. Not when Obito was around.

"Would you move," you grunted, stepping to the left.

"What's the magic word?" he taunted, stepping to his right. Openly laughing at you when you ducked to go the other way and he spread his arms in the doorway to block you.

You put an end to your little dance. You shoved your glasses up your nose and glared at him with all the threatening energy you could summon having roughly three hours of sleep. "If you don't let me get my coffee, I'll-"

"Coffee, hm? Like this espresso drink here?" He dropped his arms and grabbed the to-go cup from one of the round tables everyone used to eat lunch at. He held the drink out for you to take and you scoffed.

"Isn't that yours?"

"Nope."

"Poisoned then?"

"Nope."

Your upper lip sneered in disgust. "Then what's wrong with it?"

Obito considered the cup in his hand and shrugged. “Nothing. It’s two shots with soy milk and one packet of raw sugar, like you like it.”

Skeptical, you snatched it from his hand and peered into the small hole in the lid, closing one eye and swirling the liquid around. Putting it to your nose and smelling it. Inspecting it for evidence of him tampering with it, or tasting it.

Satisfied, you maintained eye contact and took a sip. “Tastes normal.”

“See? Told you.” The scars on his cheek stretched with his smile. Healed gashes of smooth skin from an accident in his youth he never elaborated on. The hand he slipped into his pocket matched; catching you staring at vulnerable parts of him. He moved past you to go back to his desk. “Did you know you get coffee at the same time everyday?” he called over his shoulder.

You sipped. Blinking at where he once stood in front of you. Mulling over his question. “Okay, stalker.”

~~~

You waited outside your boss’ office twisting your fingers into a representation of the knots in your stomach. Obito shifted his weight from foot to foot beside you, humming something, staring off into space. Ignoring you. At least, that’s how it appeared.

“Don’t worry so much,” he said, voice quiet and raspy. A hoarseness unique to him.

You sighed and shook your head. In a rare moment of sleep deprivation, you let your walls slip and confided in him. “I was up so late trying to solve that last problem. I crunched the numbers over and over again to make it work and, ugh-” You slid your eyes shut. “I don’t think I did a good job. Fuck.” Your promotion was toast.

He checked the buttons on his blazer, fixed the cuffs. Assured you, “I’m sure you did perfect. You’re you, afterall.”

“What does that mean?”

The door opened before he could answer. Your boss ushered you in to stand at his desk while he laced his fingers and had trouble discerning where he should begin. You may not be an expert in reading body language, but his disappointment was evident, making your failure palpable.

“Well,” your boss drawled. “I appreciate aspects of your proposition, but for having my two best employees working on a project together, I gotta say, having an entire spreadsheet formatted like this, and not even having the cells calculated correctly is not how I envisioned this going. This client was very important and now I’ll have to..” He continued to point out flaws and how to fix them. Your mistakes. Only yours. Unknowingly complimenting Obito’s half of the work and crushing your dreams of a promotion.

Your blood ran cold. Your heart seized, dropped to your stomach, and plummeted to the floor. Preparing yourself to take the fall and admit all the problems with the project were yours.

“Who did these parts of the project?” your boss scoffed, not believing either of you could’ve messed up this badly.

You drew in a breath.

“I did, sir.”

You whipped your head at Obito. Mouth hung open.

“I’m the one who messed up the spreadsheet. I’ll be sure to do better next time.”

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again, Mr. Uchiha. You two are dismissed. I expected much more from you two. And you,” he addressed you, “You’ll hear from me by the end of the month regarding your promotion.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

Obito held the door open for you and closed it behind him. He followed you down the narrow hall until you whirled around on him, stopping him mid-step from running into you.

“Why did you do that?” you whispered harsher than you meant to.

“I hate wearing these,” he said, unbuttoning his blazer and shrugging it off. Folding it over his arm. Lifting his half-lidded eyes to meet yours, smothering any emotion from his face except for the subtle raise of his brows. “Hm?”

“Why did you..?” Stand up for me? Volunteer to take the brunt of your boss’ harsh criticisms knowing you didn’t deserve them?

“Because I know this wasn’t the norm. You let the stress get to you, with your neck on the line like that.” His gaze roamed your face. Slow and precise, as if absorbing your features to memorize them. “Maybe you can make it up to me sometime.”

You knew at that moment you must’ve been sick in head, because you genuinely considered kissing the ground he walked on. “Thank you, Obito.”

“It’s whatever,” he shrugged. It was nothing to him. And that was all the more infuriating.

~~~

The next day you made yourself as small as possible. Curling over your keyboard, pretending to squint at the screen like you were in the middle of something, drumming up excuses to leave the room when Obito glanced at you from over his cubicle wall.

Itching to get away from his presence, you meandered in the break room, reading over every single candybar in the vending machine as if you had any interest in them besides your favorite.

“So,” Kakashi started and you yelped, grabbing your chest and uttering a few choice words at him. “Sorry,” he sang, cheesing under his face mask. “I heard what Obito did for you–”

“He told you?”

“Eh, he tells me everything. We’re friends.”

Justifiably embarrassed at your own incompetence being shared around the office, you narrowed your eyes at Kakashi. “You were saying?”

He turned his attention towards the ceiling in search of his reason for ambushing you. “Ah, right, I remember..” he trailed off again and you were starting to lose your patience. Kakashi doubled over and placed his elbow on the counter beside the long-forgotten coffee pot, planting his cheek in his palm while facing you, trying hard to convey his innocence before you smacked him. “You know, both you and Obito have been single since you started working here. Have you thought about taking him out to dinner to thank him?”

“My God, I’m quitting and moving across the damn country to get away from you two.” You hightailed it back to your desk, which did not prove to be a better alternative than being stuck in the break room with Kakashi hounding you about your love life.

Obito was at his desk answering a phone call. Leaned back in his chair. Legs straight out, crossed at the ankle. Arm thrown across his messy back hair to block the fluorescent lights from his charcoal gray eyes, closing as he laughed at a joke the person on the other end of the line told. His tie divided the length of his chest; today it was navy blue with a repeating pattern of orange squares as big as your pinky nail. He erupted in another laugh, straining the buttons of his white shirt across his chest, pulling at the creases where it was tucked into his slacks..

Your eyes snapped back to his face. His smile was easy. Care-free. And directed at you.

The corners of his mouth carved themselves wry. His teeth gleamed.

He winked at you. Answered the client’s question with poise while your knees buckled. Continued to best you when you lost your nerve.

You sank to your chair, staring holes into your screen, listening to him win over the wealthiest client the company has contact with, solidifying another fortuitous deal all due to his charm.

~~~

Konan sat next to you at the round table. She pried the lid off her salad and mixed in the dressing, shoveling it around with her fork before digging in and talking to you with her mouth full. “How’d your last Tindr date go?”

You answered around the sandwich in your mouth. “Awful. I knew in the first ten seconds it was a wash. He was so fucking boring and only talked about himself.”

“You’re so picky. What’re you looking for in a guy anyway?”

“At this point I’d settle for anyone who’s nice and doesn’t stare at my chest the entire time.”

“Yeah, your boobs aren’t even that impressive.”

“Shut up,” you seethed.

Outside the break room, Obito pushed himself off the wall and returned to his desk.

~~~

Days later, you arrived–at most–two minutes late. And yet, there he was. At your desk. Messing with your things.

“Obito,” you hissed, shaking the backrest of your chair, glaring at the man using your computer instead of his. “Sit at your own desk, you–”

Obito cut you off with a smile you loathed. The one he knew softened you around the edges while simultaneously ruffling your feathers. “I was just finishing up here.” He stabbed a few keys and smacked the enter button, grinning at you.

“Whatever, idiot. Out. Go. Leave.” You shooed him and slung your purse over the back of your chair. He swiped your stack of pastel pink sticky notes and slipped them into his pocket. You didn’t have the emotional capacity to argue with him more.

“Your perfume is nice,” he said. You shot him a look. “It’s different, isn’t it?”

It was, but you weren’t about to entertain the idea of him noticing details about you like that.

“Bye,” you stated. You wiggled around him and sat in your own chair, adjusting the height and pulling your keyboard to you, reaching for the mouse and opening a document while he watched you. Unnervingly close. “Can I help you?”

You could feel his stare, see the way his head tilted and his face went lax as he mulled something over. “No, I guess not.” He walked around the cubicles and sat at his desk, eyes moving back and forth like he was reading something on his screen, but they held a certain saddened gloss over them.

Shaking off the weird twinge of empathy throbbing in your chest, you glanced around your desk to see what else his little mischievous hands disorganized and exhaled, exhausted. It was just like him to leave trash in his wake. You picked up your waste paper basket and began sweeping in an excess amount of candy wrappers and balled bits of paper, when a certain foiled paper from a stick of gum caught your eye–folded suspiciously in the shape of a heart.

Huffing, you threw it away, wondering how one man produced so much garbage in such a short span of time.

Reaching for the last item that was not yours on your desk, you realized one of the candy bar wrappers wasn’t empty. “Hey, Obito, is this yours?” You waved it at him over the cubicle wall. However, he had his back turned to you. Nodding at something Kakashi said while dialing a phone number and holding the receiver to his ear.

Quietly, you gave up trying to get his attention and dropped your hand. Languishing it in your lap, turning the candy bar over and over in thought, debating the kind gesture. If he even left it on purpose. He could’ve forgotten to retrieve it amidst all his mess.

But it was your favorite candy bar, and you hated the spark of delight warming your body when you considered the idea of him leaving it there on purpose.

~~~

Subtle, you were not.

This was your third time in the break room. Standing up every time Obito did and rushing there before him, only to end up there alone because he was getting up to socialize or go to the restroom.

So, here you were, making your usual afternoon coffee. By yourself. Sulking.

Until he came in.

Obito wandered in to toss a water bottle in the recycling and leave. Keeping his head down. Avoiding eye contact, his gaze steady on the floor, hiking his leather satchel higher on his shoulder.

You stopped him before he left the doorway, “Hey, do you want a coffee?” Your voice was too airy, too high pitched to sound natural; making your good deed obvious.

“I’m, uh,” he stalled, running a hand through his hair. “I was about to go meet a client for a late lunch.”

“O-Oh.” An awkward silence hung between you. One where you squirmed, rocking on your feet, brain working in overdrive and not producing a solution to get you out of this cringe-inducing moment that will surely haunt you every night for the rest of your life. One where he stared at you, eyes wide. Hopeful.

“But I can drink it on the way there,” he offered.

You were almost certain it wasn’t the first time you smiled at him, but judging by his reaction, it was a rarity when aimed at him.

Removing your lukewarm cup of coffee from under the spout, you replaced it and pressed buttons on the machine. His footsteps echoed in the small room. Watching the black coffee drip into the cup and you shuffle to the side, getting his creamer out from the fridge and lining up four packets of white sugar. The machine beeped twice. You took the cup and mixed in the creamer until the drink was blonde and dumped in the packets, stirring and placing a cardboard sleeve and lid on it.

“Here,” you said, holding out for him to take, pointedly looking at the coffee cup and not a smidge higher. Not wanting to know if he was smirking at you with snark on his tongue, or smiling at you with genuine appreciation for knowing how he liked his coffee.

“Thanks.” His fingers grazed yours. His rough fingertips over your knuckles; calluses from working out brushing your soft skin. Touching you despite you handling the drink in a way to avoid any clumsy touching in the trade off from your hands to his.

Obito checked his watch. “I’ve gotta get going.”

For a man who had somewhere to be, he wasn’t in a hurry. You dared meet his eyes, and had to remind yourself to breathe. He wasn’t smiling, nor was he smirking. Even better, he regarded you with a sweet glint in his stare, and a tender lift of the scarred side of his mouth.

“You should get going,” you reminded him after he didn’t move.

“Yeah.” He curled the coffee to his chest, nodded at you. “Bye.” He said it so gently. Quiet. Not obnoxious like he usually would, with an additional pinch on your forearm or grandiose wave to embarrass you.

“Bye.”

You counted a full minute before you gained the confidence to leave the breakroom, expecting your coworkers to turn their gossipy, sly grins at you, but you were met with–well–nothing. The cubicles were empty. You remembered overhearing Gai talk about clocking out early, and Kakashi was out sick, but you figured someone would’ve been out here to tease you about how long you were in there alone with Obito.

Maybe today was your lucky day.

You sat at your desk. Slouched at your desk. Slumped at your desk. Slammed your forehead on your desk.

“This is so boring.” As you said this, your eyes were trained on the space over the cubicle wall diagonal from yours.

You turned desperate for entertainment.

Finding an errant pen in your mug of writing utensils, you swore it belonged to Konan and found yourself idling in front of her desk in the blink of an eye. You returned the pen to her and stood there. Perhaps leaning over to sneak a peek at Obito’s desk. You’d never seen it before since he was against the wall and you never had an excuse to walk on this side of the cubicles.

Two seconds; that’s how long your morals lasted. You slid his chair out and sank into it, scooting forward to rest your arms across his desk. Dragging your shoes on the carpet, feet not touching the ground since he was much taller than you. For a while you just sat there with the low hum of the air conditioner keeping you company.

His desk was relatively tidy and, impressively enough, lacked crumbs. The fabric covered walls were decorated, unlike yours. He had a little plant in the corner. His pen cup was a mug with a sports team logo on it.

It was like being in a different world by changing your seat. It almost felt like you were.. closer to him. Sitting where he sat. Enveloped by the scent of his cologne. The artificial warmth of his chair cradling you like a hug. Hovering your fingers over his keyboard, worn and missing letters on the ones he used most often. His chair. His things. His decorations.

On closer investigation the walls of his cubicle were lined in photos. Many of them were of him and Kakashi, or group photos of all of you at work events. Directly to your left was one in particular you remembered. Your boss made you and your new coworkers gather round to commiserate the office’s opening; you were in the center, a sour expression on your face because Obito was using you as a place to rest his arm, leaning on you and smiling wide for the camera.

The photo to the side of his monitor was of you and Konan sitting on a blanket in the grass at an employee picnic. She was whispering something in your ear and pointing at the camera. You were smiling; not the type of thousand-watt smile worthy of being on display in someone’s cubicle, but here it was nonetheless. The only odd thing about it was that Obito was pictured in the background on his own blanket. Someone else had taken the picture and now he owned it.

You scanned the rest of the photos. There was a common theme.

You.

The ones of him and Kakashi were outnumbered. The ones featuring other coworkers were conveniently overlapping, covering their faces, but not yours.

“A coincidence. He just ran out of room..”

Your hypothesis fell flat when your gaze drifted beyond the cubicle walls to where you would normally be sitting, imagining yourself there, ignoring him. Below the wall was another photo of you. Just you, from almost the same angle. Glaring at him over the cubicle wall.

“Fuck,” you muttered, pushing yourself away from his desk, face hot with–every emotion.

As you stood, you noticed your stack of pastel pink sticky notes and went to snatch them from his desk. But stopped. Trembling fingers hovered over them.

The top note was written on.

It was Konan’s name. Under it, her personal number. Under that, a heart.

It was her number, you didn’t need to check. It wasn’t her handwriting, it was his. His heart he drew under her name and her phone number.

You checked the photos lining his walls again. While there were more of you, there were plenty of her, too. You looked around the empty office.

Today was not your lucky day.

They were on a secret date.

~~~

You didn’t know why you cared so much. You really shouldn’t have. You took too long, and now he rejected you. Moved on.

Still, the way they entered through the door together, snickering. Smiling openly like you wished you could. Chests tittering in laughs. Holding their stomachs, and touching each other's arms. Sharing a knowing glance and smothering their blissful grins behind their hands as they sat across from you; you had never felt more alone, unwanted, and excluded.

~~~

The next day was no better.

Konan peeked over her monitor. “Did you get it?” Across the cubical wall, Obito listened intently.

“No, I didn’t,” you said, fatigued from feeling anything anymore. “I didn’t get the promotion.”

~~~

Word traveled fast. You’d been picking at your lunch in the breakroom for mere minutes when a fleet of busy bodies filed in and Konan massaged the tense muscles lining your spine while Genma patted your hand–though, he paled and jerked it away when he made eye contact with the hardened stare of someone above you.

“We should go out for drinks tonight,” Konan cooed in your ear. “I know, I know, not to celebrate, but hey, being drunk’ll make it easier to forget.”

You didn’t need to look up to know Obito was there. His cologne was an easy tell, along with the familiar shuffle of his feet. An unfortunate aspect you regretted growing accustomed to in effort to detect when he was sneaking up behind you to scare you. You surrendered, “Sure. Yeah.”

“Awesome! We’ll go to the usual bar down the street.”

In the reflection of the microwave you saw his distorted face smile at her, and her at him.

It was so easy for them.

~~~

Outside the office building, you waited on the sidewalk with the rest of your coworkers until the last few made it out of the elevator and you started towards the bar together. However, one by one, they conjured excuses to veer off in other directions. Genma had an errand to run, Asuma swore he left his stove on, Shizune had to make soup for orphaned kids or something–she expelled her spiel so quickly, it was all gibberish. Ino dragged Sai by his arm after communicating with him through rapid blinks and death glares; “Remember we had that thing to do tonight?” Ino asked, to which Sai replied, “Huh? What thing?” Konan cleared her throat aggressively. “Oh! That thing!”

That left you, Obito, and Konan walking towards the bar.

Konan was in the lead, talking enough for the three of you. Obito hung around your side, but you weren’t paying attention to what she was saying, far too preoccupied keeping your unease at bay. Trying to not wring the uncomfortable tension from your neck. Guarding your face from spilling your secrets as you passed by windows and had your heart broken pane by pane. Watching him laugh, watching him make her laugh.

“Oh, shit.” Konan patted down her jacket and forced an apologetic smile to the doorman before turning to you and Obito. “Forgot my wallet at the office. I’ll just head back and get it!” She put her Track and Field scholarship to good use; the woman was half a block away by the end of her sentence.

“Uh, well. Should we wait for her?” You looked to Obito for further guidance, but he was showing his ID to the doorman, so you did the same.

Once inside the bar you were immediately bombarded by yelling, accosted by bodies knocking you around as people cheered at TV screens plastered to every surface. A man with a large build screamed something incoherent at the slow motion replay. He swung his arms wildly, gesticulating his anger in ways that endangered you and your ability to see.

“Gah!” You grappled with your glasses before they were flung off your face. Obito noticed your size-related predicament and placed his firm hand on the small of your back, escorting you to the bar; a swift apology on his lips you couldn’t hear.

Obito wedged himself between two people and got the bartender’s attention. He ordered, and seeing how you had difficulty being heard above the ruckus, he rocked you into his body, pushing you in front of him. His palm, fingers spread across your skin. Strong. Safe.

“I’ll have the same as him,” you shouted to the bartender.

While she fixed your mystery drink, Obito rattled you. “Look! Those people over there are leaving. Grab their booth before someone else does.” He was everywhere. His lips tickled the shell of your ear. His breath coasted goosebumps down your neck. His hand moved from your lower back, and you missed having it there, but it was replaced by his stomach, his chest slotting into the lonely places curved to fit him–it was heaven, it was hell.

Praising the break away from him, you rushed to the table and scooted along the round booth seat to the middle position, leaving him room to sit on either side of you without touching.

Of course, he soon came over with your pint of beer and sat next to you. As close as possible. Laying his arm across the back of the seat, eyes on the screen. Casual, nonchalant; like this was a recurrence. A date night.

With that thought, reality reminded you that this was very much not a date.

“Should we order for Konan?”

“Nah,” he said, lifting his pint with a single hand to his lips and taking a sip. Releasing a pleasurable “ah” after swallowing. Bicep bulging under the sleeve of his work shirt. Adam’s apple plunging and climbing. Stippled facial hair highlighted under your studious gaze. Plummeting your rational senses and spiking your heart rate.

You grasped your pint with two hands and leaned into the cushion–hyper aware of his arm relaxing across the back of the booth. Particularly, the warm crook of his elbow at your nape.

He made it worse. He crossed his legs. In your periphery you could see much. Too much. A peek of his ankle. The taut fabric of his slacks stretched across his thighs. The protrusion of his wallet. More, if you were willing to ogle like a degenerate.

He wrung his mouth at something on the TV. Licked his lips.

Cuddled together in a booth like a couple; you could see, hear, feel all of him.

Getting drunk was certainly the only way you’d get through this night.

Obito laughed at you drinking like a fish far out of her water. “Need another one?” You shuddered at the bitterness blanketing your tongue and nodded. He laughed at you again and wove through the crowd to get you a second hoppy beer. “Sorry it’s so busy today. I usually watch the game at home and forgot it’d be this crazy.”

Squinting at the TV, you did your best to ignore his arm asserting itself around the shelf of your shoulders, touching you more than it was previously, and read the score on the bottom of the screen. “Basketball?”

“Mhm,” he hummed a bit too close to your ear considering this corner of the sports bar was rather chill and free of overzealous fans. “Do you watch it, or not really into it?” His intensity burned your cheeks; discerning any emotion crossing your face.

You shrugged and turned to face him. And what a mistake that was.

His proximity was imminent. You witnessed each micro movement of his dilated pupils obsessing over the features of your face. Languishing on your parted lips and snapping back to your half-lidded eyes.

“No, I’ve never really been into sports,” you whispered as a goal was scored and hushed devastation rippled through the men glued to the screens.

Obito’s fingers grazed your shoulder. “If you’re bored, we can do something else. Whatever you want.”

The cold pint glass numbed your aching fingers. His insistence on treating you as anything other than a nuisance in his life chipped at the ice encompassing your heart. Cracking the walls you put up when it came to him; crumbling them into the gut wrenching torment of falling for someone who was taken.

But how sweet was the honeyed voice thrumming in your ear provoking you to make bad decisions. “I’ll watch the game with you.” And then the reverberating sound of your conscience smacking you across the face. “Konan’s been gone for a while. Do you think something happened? Should I text her?”

You reached for your purse and he stopped you. His hand around your wrist, his arm’s presence solidly around your shoulders, no longer shy in his affections. “She’ll be fine,” he said, stern, terse. “This night is about you. Stop worrying so much and enjoy yourself.” Truly asking the world of you, he leaned in to the point of his hair brushing your temple, and pleaded, “Trust me.”

The earnestness in his rasp. The honesty in his eyes.

Maybe you were wrong about him and Konan. Somehow. If you dismissed the evidence you procured indicating otherwise.

Either way, he let go of your wrist, but his arm remained. His fingers remained. Caressing your upper arm, tucking themselves against your side. Squeezing new life into your sorry self. Thumb stroking over your shoulder, and you loved it as much as you hated yourself for seeking comfort in the one person who drove you crazy: your rival. Stirring emotions you buried long ago when he first made you a target of his teasing.

“Okay,” you agreed. He smiled his imperfectly perfect smile. You forced your attention to the basketball game before you sank deeper in analyzing his face, especially the way his scars carved rivers through his stubble.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” Obito asked after a few minutes of silence purveyed between you. Interrupted by cheers or groans in accordance to which team scored points.

“Mmm, not really. You?”

Obito inhaled deep. Face blank, watching the TV. “Don’t wanna bore you by talking about myself-”

“Whoa! Did you see that?” You whipped around, confused as to why Obito seemed less than thrilled. “I don’t know much about basketball, but he made that shot from half-court. That’s impressive, right?”

He snorted. “I’m rooting for the other team.”

“Oh. Whoops.” Now, you realized the other team’s logo was the same as the one on the mug he kept at his desk.

“You can root for whoever you want,” he said, twisting his lips in yet another smile angled in your direction. “I’m just relieved you’re having fun.”

“We can make it funner.”

“Oh?”

“Let’s make a deal.” You smirked and waggled your eyebrows–feeling silly as the alcohol settled in. “If my team wins, we do whatever I want. If your team wins, we do whatever you want.”

Taking his time to contemplate your offer, he read the score, read how much time was left in the game, and narrowed his eyes at you. “My team is down 22 points and there’s less than two minutes left in the fourth quarter.”

“Sounds like you're scared, Uchiha.”

“Never. It’s a deal.”

Finally. Today was your lucky day.

It took ten minutes for the clock to hit zero; plowing through referee calls, whistles, and timeouts, but at last, your team won. Your team won, and that meant spending more time with Obito.

“Where’re you dragging me to now?” he asked, paying for your drinks.

“I have something in mind,” you teased.

~~~

“What in the actual fuck is this?” Obito yelled over the sounds assaulting him.

“Music!” you yelled back, dragging him towards the sea of bodies in the warehouse style building.

He winced; at you, the many lanky men with mohawks, the studded leather jackets seconds from puncturing him, and at the blown amps on stage. “This isn’t music. This is noise.”

“Exactly,” you giggled. His scowl was lit in the flashing lights. “It’s called noise rock.” For his benefit, you lead him towards the back wall, putting distance between you and the people thrashing in the middle. “My favorite band is on stage.”

You watched him openly and ardently for his response. Letting him see the twinkle in your eye, batting your lashes at his surprise. Your dimple upon breaking into a hint of a smile, finding it a bit too amusing–and adorable–to see him out of his element, dressed in office attire at a punk show. Sharing a part of yourself no one else at the office knew. Parting your lips and urging him to read between the lines: the deal was just a way to trick him into spending more time with you.

“It’s..” He fought for words. “Loud.”

“Yep! Well, I’m gonna go mosh.” You made it one step towards the mob before you were yanked backwards as if by a tether and stumbled into his arms.

“Absolutely not,” he said, letting go of your blouse and securing his strong grip on your hip. “No way am I about to let you go in there. What if your glasses get knocked off? What if you get hurt?”

You were flabbergasted. Words escaped you. You did not possess the lexicon to describe the burning desire in your core when he clutched you to his chest and reprimanded you. Pressed tight against his body, his nose to your hair, and protective words curling your toes.

“O-Okay,” you exhaled. “We can stay back here.”

He fell for your tricks again.

~~~

For long minutes, Obito held you. After a close incident with a rogue teenager being ejected from the crowd and running into you, he laced his arms around your middle and kept you safe within the confines of his person. You were both leaning against the wall, but you relied on him to support you, and he held no objections.

During a speech about anti-fascism by the lead singer, he ducked his head to speak to you, and became side tracked. For once, you were the one who caught him off guard. Your fingers found their way to his chin. You ran your thumb over his stubble, entranced by the short hairs prickling your skin.

“You smell good,” you said, finding it easier and easier to smile. “I’ve always liked your cologne.”

Obito wrested his chin from your affections and closed his eyes, eyebrows pinched. “Are you drunk?”

“Tipsy, I guess.”

“Mm.” He almost seemed reluctant, debating something with himself, as he claimed your temple as his. A timid brush of his lips. Settling for a minuscule display of everything he suppressed.

In turn, you rested your weary head on his clavicle. Turning your face to tuck yourself in the column of his neck. Swooning over him overtly. Brimming with liquid confidence in his comforting arms.

~~~

Obito didn’t know how many more songs he listened to–if one could discern when one began and another ended–but he swayed with you, regardless. Entertaining you with cheesy grins and heartfelt strokes on your waist.

Eventually, you both enjoyed yourselves too much. Growing overstimulated under the flashing lights and blaring music. You made it to the fresh air before anybody else did and walked the empty streets in the direction of your apartments downtown. His arm was loose around your waist, but his fingers dug in when you hesitated at an intersection.

“Don’t you live that way?” you asked, pointing across the street.

“It’s late, I’m walking you home.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Alright.”

~~~

“This is me,” you stated needlessly, alluding to the metal placard hanging on your door with your apartment’s number. Just standing there, staring up at him like you were for the past few seconds where he also stood there, hands in his pockets, staring at you, slouching. His face held little emotion. Not in a bored way, but in a way that protected him from showing too much. Forcing you to fill in the space with your emotions first.

You rocked yourself from foot to foot, projecting what you hoped was girlish innocence. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“I did. Did you?”

“I did.”

His eyes became increasingly desperate. Flicking his gaze back and forth into your own. Glancing at your lips. Communicating something you didn’t parse. Pleading you to do something you didn’t understand. “Are you still drunk?”

“I was never drunk, just a little tipsy.” He shot you a look. “But the fresh air helped sober me up,” you finished meekly. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call Konan to check in on her and then go to bed, I promise.”

Obito nodded, somewhat. It was a very slow bounce, petering out after a few seconds.

Silence, a distinct and excruciating silence, hung between the heat of your bodies teeming with energy in the quiet hall of your apartment building. A silence encapsulating two years worth of intentions and motives.

“Fuck it.”

He sprang.

He cupped your jaw, hooked his arm around your waist, and kissed you deeply. More intense than he meant to, but he couldn’t help it. Not when your hands climbed his chest and tangled themselves in tufts of his hair. He surrendered the self-imposed restraint he honed for years sitting across from you. The relief was all he ever hoped it to be. Your enthusiasm was as validating as he hoped it to be. Your moan into his mouth was as damning as he hoped it to be.

Tingles of satisfaction enticed your bodies to become one. Your knees knocked his, stepping into his embrace past the point of acceptable. Wanting to be absorbed by him. Craving two years worth of passion he held on reserve.

His every inhale filled the collapse of your exhale. His thumb stroked your cheek like it was wiping away tears, but all it revealed was your smile. A smile for him. Just him. You ran your knuckles along the scars on his throat. Feeling his erratic heartbeat elevating further.

He backed off. Doubt blooming in his head. Checking your face for signs of regret, of not wanting this, of only trying to humor him before sending him away with a letter from HR on his heels.

If he was looking for answers, you answered them in the most pleasing way.

You grabbed his tie and reeled him for another kiss. Crazed, fevered. Escalating when he slid his tongue across your lips and you happily obliged his hunger; hands exploring the clothed curves of the other. Smitten over the silliest details, like the way he flexed his muscles wherever your hands landed in order to impress you, and how he thought he was smooth letting his hand drift lower and lower down the arch of your back until it wasn’t on your back anymore. So irrevocably charmed by his ability to caress all common sense from you.

Dizzy, you broke apart for air and gasped a small, “Fuck.”

“Mhm,” he moaned, taking you for a short kiss between breaths.

“Fuck,” you said again in lieu of anything intelligent.

Obito pulled away, calming the steady rise of his shoulders, cooling the flush across his cheeks. Putting distance between you–but not until he laid his gentle lips on your temple, kissing you proper this time.

You sank to your heels and blinked the haze from your eyes. Searching his for what to do next.

“I had an amazing time with you tonight,” he said. “I should get going before it gets too late.”

He posed to walk away.

And you let him.

You didn’t speak up. You didn’t stop him.

At least, not until he was halfway down the hall and you woke up from your lustful stupor. Like hell you were about to let Konan have him.

“Wait!” You slapped your hand over your mouth, not realizing how loud you were until it echoed. “It’s already too late, I mean–” You groaned. “It’s really late out. I don’t want you walking home alone. You can come inside. Stay with me.”

It was an awfully worded offer, but he turned and smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

[glassesandswords]

Hi, Ness! Do you think Hange and Levi were more than friends? I think there were some deeper feelings, however, unfortunately, there was no correct time for them 😭

Dear anon, I suggest you take a good look at my blog and then look at me in the eye and ask this again lmao 😂

Okay but objectively speaking- well, as objectively as my shipper heart could- I think that they got off on a little rocky start as comrades in the beginning (with their clashing personalities and all), and later turned into bffs who complemented and trusted each other perfectly.

After the retaking of Wall Maria, however, I think they did develop deeper feelings, which is pretty natural since they were literally the only two left of the old guard. There are so many instances of the two of them being protective over the other post Shiganshina.

Also, there's a symbolic parallel of the two of them retaining the opposite eyes- which I personally think is no mere coincidence in a story so heavy on symbolism. It's almost as if they are halves of a whole, but in a way where the two of them are their own person first. This is peak soulmate symbolism if you ask me.

People can choose to view Levihan platonically or romantically, but either way, their bond ran deep and no one can deny that. I read a post recently with a person saying that levihan are like two bffs with a pact similar to "Well, if we stay single till 40, let's just marry each other" and I kinda think it suits them well? Because they have almost never been overtly, directly romantic (well, except the forest confession/blush scene ofc, but some people somehow manage to read that platonically too so, eh well, whatever floats your boat ig) but the way they show love and care to each other is through acts of service, unshakable trust, and absolute loyalty.

To those who go 'can you stop shipping them, you're ruining a good 🌟friendship🌟', here's a news flash- best friends can develop feelings for each other. Levihan are the perfect material for the bffs-to-lovers trope imo, but even if they were only bffs, that still wouldn't reduce their bond or their dynamic to something any less in my eyes.

In canonverse, both of them put their duty towards humanity first and their own feelings aside, which is exactly why they did not run away in that forest to live low-key, knowing that the rest of the world would get destroyed if they did as their heart desired. All said and done, there's more than enough canon proof that they loved each other selflessly and I 100% believe that had Hange been alive, the two of them would have lived together post-rumbling. We (and they) were robbed of their domestic cottagecore life.

Dammit Yams. 😭

[bestintheparsec]

As Does the Snow

Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You and your neighbor, Frankie, get snowed in together. 

A/N: I wrote this down when the power was out while I was—you guessed it—snowed in. Nothing too deep/angsty in this (for once), just softness. Thank you for reading and I hope you like it!

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: none, some obvious tropes (snowed in, there was only one bed)

*Masterlist pinned to my page

~

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, prompting you to drop the pile of clothes you’re holding to answer it.

“Hey, Santi,” you answer the familiar friendly voice on the other end.

“You lose power yet?” he asks, slight concern in his tone.

“Just about an hour ago,” you reply, peering out the window. The sun’s still out, so you’ll be okay for a few more hours until it sets.

You’d all been expecting the power to go out, of course. The news has been tracking a seemingly out-of-nowhere snow storm that’s been headed your way, starting its impact a few hours earlier. You hadn’t expected to lose power so soon, though—it usually takes a lot more ice or wind to damage the lines. You’ve been preparing as best as you can for the cold nights ahead. With the lack of heat and power, it was bound to be a long night or two.

“You have everything you need, right?” he asks after a short silence. Santi and the other guys, most of them, live closer to the city and away from the countryside that you'd chosen to live in. With the way the roads are, everyone's been warned not to drive if possible. Not that there’s anywhere to go.

“Yeah, I always do—”

“Listen, I was wondering if you could go stay with Frankie during this whole thing,” he chimes in.

Frankie lives across the street from you—you’ve been good friends with him ever since you moved in years ago, even becoming a part of his group of ex-military friends when he introduced you to them, and you'd fit in like you’d always belonged there. It’s perfectly reasonable that Santi would ask you to go stay with your friend to hunker down during a storm. You would all stay with each other if you could, but seeing as that’s impossible and you and Frankie only have each other right now…yes, completely reasonable.

Fuck, who are you kidding?

What seems like a long time ago, you realized you had feelings for Frankie. And, by some luck—or not—you found out they were reciprocated.

But things don’t always work out the way you want them to; hell, it seems like things never do. At the end of the day, you both had wanted to pursue something more with each other, but life got in the way, just as it often does. You both had a lot going on in your lives back then, things you had to deal with and sort out alone. Ultimately—awkward conversations and deep talks and all—you’d both decided it was best if you simply stayed friends, lest things become overcomplicated.

And so you did. Despite this small history, things haven't really been awkward since then. He’s still a good friend to you, one of your best friends, really, and the subject hasn’t been mentioned again ever since.

Only, you haven’t really moved on. You haven’t been much good at leaving the feelings behind you, either. At first you just kept shoving them away, trying to convince yourself that you felt nothing at all whenever you were with him, nothing except friendly love for one of your best friends. But despite your best attempts not to, you found yourself slowly falling more for him. Being close to him for this long has made it even harder for you to move past it.

Not that you've addressed any of this again.

Had you sorted out the things you were dealing with back then? Maybe. But you’d both decided on what was best, years ago, and given that Frankie hasn’t brought it up again since, it’s likely he wants to keep things that way. Time tends to help some people to move on, where it drives the knife in deeper for others. Frankie’s been on plenty of dates since then, even a relationship or two. So you know you were probably just a momentary interlude in his love life, someone he stopped thinking about in that way long before you could ever even think about moving on. You're nothing more than a good friend to him now. And so you've kept your continued feelings for him to yourself, allowing them to thinly layer your friendship like a light dusting of sugar that’s never quite sweet enough to stand on its own.

But the thought of sheltering with him for a few days? You're not sure if you can keep your feelings contained if you're with him for that long and with that much free time to get lost in your thoughts. But given the seriousness of the storm, you were both bound to end up at one or the other's place, anyways.

You must have been silent for a little too long, because Santi speaks again, breaking your thoughts. “You can watch over each other, that sort of thing. Besides, you know how he can be…” he trails off, waiting for you to answer.

“I—yeah, I’ll go over there,” you finally agree, nodding to yourself. “I was going to check up on him eventually, anyways. I’ll go over as soon as I finish up what I’m doing.”

“Sounds good—let us know if you run into any trouble. We’ll find a way over there if we need to.”

You mutter a quick thanks and remind them to stay safe before hanging up, tossing your phone onto the couch with a resigned sigh. Moments later you pick it up again, quickly sending a text to Frankie to ask him if it’s alright for you both to bunker together for the night. Which he quickly agrees to, of course—you’ve spent many evenings over at his place, or his at yours.

Really, you don’t know why your brain’s suddenly trying to make this weird for you. You’ll bring some snacks and blankets, and it’ll be just like any other Friday night you’ve spent with him. Not weird. There’s nothing there (at least on his end) for you to feel awkward about.

You shake your head and finish your emergency preparations, trying to be done with it before it gets dark so you can head over to Frankie’s.

~

Exhaling deeply first, you ring Frankie’s doorbell.

“Coming!” His deep voice calls from inside.

You shove your hands into your pockets then change your mind, moving them to grip anxiously onto the straps of your backpack. Another few moments pass before you hear Frankie trod to the door. He answers it with a soft smile plastered on his face, the same one he uses every time he greets you. Immediately taking the bag you’re carrying off your arm, he beckons you inside and you follow, shrugging off your backpack.

"Did you need help with anything?" You ask, dropping your bag onto the ground and looking around the darkened place. The windows are covered, there's flashlights and candles out on the table, and a couple cases of water are stacked in the kitchen.

He’s layered up in clothing just like you are—a familiar flannel button-up peeking out from under his jacket. His hair is messy like he’s been running around all day, which he probably has been from the looks of it. If you had to describe it, he looks like...home.

Stop it, you mentally chastise yourself.

“Nah, I’m just making some final tweaks,” he remarks, walking over to pull the living room curtains shut. “The house is warm enough for now, but it won’t be long before it starts feeling like the inside of a fridge in here.”

He turns back to face you with a different sort of smile on his lips, a gentle expression you can’t quite make out.

Unbeknownst to you, Frankie’s been in deep for you, too. He knows you'd both agreed not to date, but over time he's come to greatly regret that decision. It was the right one at the time, but he can't help but wish things had gone a little differently. There’s no one he’d rather be around, and any and all dates he’s been on over the years have failed for the same reason—they’re not you. They could never be you.

Chances come and go, and his has gone. In more ways than one you’re a light in his life, someone he couldn’t ever deserve, and somehow he’s lucky enough to have you in his life at all—even if it’s just as friends. If he’s a better person now, a lot of it’s because you’ve been there to pick up the pieces, the same way he does and will always do for you without a second thought.

But something you can’t help him with is the fact that he’s fallen for you, hard, long after you’d both agreed to just be friends. And he keeps on falling.

He knows people change their mind all the time, but he’s been unwilling and unable to bring it up again with you. For all he knows, that agreement had just been your gentle way of telling him “it’s never going to happen.” He doesn't want to risk scaring you off and losing one of the best people in his life.

Frankie comes back to reality, watching you smooth out the front of your shirt.

“Okay, well, I brought some of my blankets in case we need to pile them up…” you say, pointing to the large bag you brought. “And since your stove is electric, it looks like we’ll be eating snacks for dinner.”

“That’s bold of you to assume,” he retorts, walking over to the kitchen. With a silly gesture, he proudly uncovers a large dish full of one of your favorites.

Frankie is certainly no chef, but he can put together a dish or two, even going out of his way to learn how to make the things that you both love. He puts a hand on his hip, amused by the surprised look on your face. “I made it before the power went out. They did teach us some things about preparation in the military, you know,” he teases, dimple on full display.

“And here I was packing junk food and sandwiches, like a loser,” you jest, grinning back at him. Frankie somehow always manages to make your life a little better. He beams and your chest constricts at the sight.

"Oh, we'll definitely need those for later," he reassures you with a grin. "If the guys were here that'd all be gone before the worst of the storm even hits," he adds, making you laugh.

Some of your favorite nights with Frankie are the ones that are completely uneventful, ones where you relax after a long day of work and binge your favorite snacks while watching some crappy movie on the couch. Then again, it's always the little things that make you happy when it comes to him.

~

Once you've had your dinner you both get comfortable next to each other on the couch, chatting about life and nothing in particular, the way you often do—minus the lack of electricity and a mostly dark room that’s barely lit up by a couple of small camping lights Frankie has. No doubt the other guys would make things a lot more chaotically entertaining if they were all here, but you’re happy it’s just the two of you now—even if it does make it harder for you to think straight at the moment.

Frankie says something that makes you chuckle and you look up at him, noting the delicate smile on his lips and the way it almost balances out the tired lines under his eyes.  He meets your eyes, and if he looks like he wants to say something else, it's probably only in your mind because he doesn't.

The wind outside makes itself known, rattling the windows in its wake. You're suddenly grateful you'd agreed to come and stay with Frankie. Although you’re lucky to have a shelter, these kinds of storms are best when you don't have to ride them out alone.

You also become hyper-aware of how intimate the moments you share with Frankie are. At the end of the day, you're glad he's in your life, even if it's not the way the younger version of you wanted. You still have him and he has you, and that's really more than you could ever ask for.

A chill suddenly makes its way through you.

"Are you shivering?" Frankie stops talking mid-thought to ask you.

"What? No, I—" He cuts you off with a chuckle and shakes his head, reaching down into your bag. With a quick movement he pulls a beanie on over your head, purposely tugging it past your eyes as you laugh and playfully smack his hand away.

"Watch yourself, Morales," you attempt to glare at him as you smooth down your hair, but fail to contain your smile when you see that goofy twinkle in his eyes.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” he concedes and raises his hands in mock surrender. The grin is still on his face as he moves to fix the beanie on your forehead. Another quiet chuckle escapes his lips until his fingers move away from your forehead, accidentally grazing along your cheek.

It’s not the chill that makes you both fall abruptly silent.

It’s almost as if the wind wiped the grins off your faces as Frankie looks into your eyes with an intense gaze. His hand still hovers along your cheek, neither of you seeming able to move. You’re suddenly grateful that it’s impossible for him to hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears right now. Your imagination must be getting the better of you again, because you almost believe that there’s something wistful about the look on his face.

But just like that, he drops his hand and you both avert your eyes.

“It’s, um...getting late,” you break the silence. “We better get settled before it really starts getting cold in here.”

Frankie clears his throat, nodding in agreement and standing to pile some blankets onto the couch.

“What are you doing?” you ask him.

“Um...you know I don’t have the guest room set up. There’s just the bed in my room. You go get cozy, I’ll take the couch.”

"What? I'm not gonna steal your bed, Fr—"

“And I'm not going to have you uncomfortable in my house,” he brushes you off with a wave of the hand. “It's fine, querida, really. You know I've knocked out on this couch more times than I can count." Your chest warms at the sound of his pet name for you. It's harmless, just something he's always called you. But for some reason it makes your face warm to hear it this time.

“No, I mean...isn’t it better if we share? I think the whole point is to keep our bodies warm. It’s easier to do that if we’re in one room.”

He finally meets your eyes again, holding your gaze as though there's more than one thing on his mind, then runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

“I...Are you sure? I really don’t have any problem with—”

You smile softly at him, trying to hide any indication of awkwardness in your tone. “Yes, Frankie, it’s fine. Really. Besides, we can stack all our blankets together this way.”

He smiles back. “I have a big, fluffy one we can use, too.”

~

All the remaining heat in the house has definitely dissipated now, leaving behind a frigid chill. It's bearable for the time being, but leaves your skin covered in goosebumps anytime you expose so much as a sliver of skin to the air. The last time you checked, the snow had already made a significant cushion to the ground outside, and was still going strong.

You've been in bed for an hour or two, huddled into a ball underneath several layers of blankets and refusing to move because it only makes you colder to shift the air around.

Frankie's asleep next to you—you assume he's asleep, anyways. Neither of you have said a word in a while, and with the pattering sounds of snow falling outside, you're getting drowsy yourself. Still, you haven't been able to fall asleep, not even when you jam your eyes shut. It's too cold, for one thing, and for another, it's difficult to ignore the fact that he is right next to you. It's a big bed and there's a decent space between you, but still.

You shift positions yet again, trying to wrap yourself tighter in your section of the blankets. You move to readjust one of the blankets that's gotten pushed away, accidentally bumping Frankie's arm in the process. You grimace, hoping you didn't wake him.

"Your hand is like ice," Frankie's quiet voice suddenly fills the room.

"Oh—Sorry. I thought you were asleep," you mutter back, your voice muffled by the blankets.

"No. It's hard enough for me to sleep even when there's not a historic snowstorm going on." He jokes, though you know it goes deeper than that for him.

Not really knowing how to respond, you remain silent. Rolling onto your side facing away from him, you tuck yourself further into the blankets before resolving to pull them up and over your head entirely.

Frankie's soft laugh rumbles next to you. "Seriously, your skin is frozen," he tells you. “You’re like the opposite of a space heater right now,” he chuckles and you can hear the grin on his face.

You push the blanket off your face, feigning a groan. “Freezing weather and a lack of heat lends to poor circulation, Francisco.”

"I know, I just…maybe it would…it might be warmer if we slept closer together." His voice is so soft that you can’t help but think how nice it would be to fall asleep to the sound of it every night.

When you don’t answer right away he quickly adds, “Or not—I wasn’t trying to...I didn’t mean—Sorry.” Frankie shuffles uncomfortably under the covers.

“No, you’re right,” you murmur hesitantly, barely louder than a whisper. “It...would probably help.”

A beat of silence.

Then you hear Frankie gently move his pillow over towards you, scooting himself in until you can feel his warmth against you. He doesn’t move again at first, you only feel his chest rising and falling against your back. But ever so slowly, he wraps an arm over you, the weight of him sturdy and comforting. You can tell he’s tense—hesitant—until you place your own hand on his, holding him closer to you. Feeling you make yourself comfortable must put him at ease, and he relaxes around you. Neither of you say a word, just lay there sharing each other’s warmth.

You’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder on some late nights on the couch before—things two normal, friendly people do, right? But you’ve never let yourself think too much about it. You can hardly help it now, reveling in the way you feel safe in his arms, fitting perfectly along the curve of his body. You are warmer, although some of it may be because of the way your pulse is just a little bit quickened. You wouldn't mind if you had to stay like this forever.

Frankie quietly exhales, his breath warm against the back of your hair. “Better?” he finally speaks, his voice gravelly and hushed, not much louder than the sound of snow hitting the window.

A pause. “Yeah.”

You feel him relax even more, burying his cheek a little more into the space above your shoulders. “Let’s try to sleep, then, querida.”

And just like that, Frankie Morales manages to make you fall a little bit more in love with him.

It’s then that you realize—it’s always been simple with him. Everything is always...easy with him. Nothing’s overcomplicated or messy; it’s just you and Frankie. It’s what drew you to him first, long ago. It wasn’t the outspoken openness that that others had, nor the confident resolve, but the quiet way he cares for you. The way he manages to always make you laugh, even at the times when it’s almost impossible to. The way he makes you feel so whole that you forget there was ever anything missing in the first place. That’s how he found his way, permanently, into your heart.

For Frankie, it’s always been you. You’re a grounding presence to him, someone who’s made him familiar with peace again over the years.

He lies there listening to the sounds of your breathing, sure that you’re finally fast asleep. He feels sleep coming over himself, too. He knows he’ll sleep a little easier tonight with you. He’ll weather anything when it comes to you. That’s how he knows, and convinces himself that once this storm business is over, he’ll tell you. For now, he lets himself follow you into slumber. His last conscious thoughts are of how he wouldn't mind having you in his arms like this every night, and if it weren't for your warmth lulling him to sleep, he might've confessed to you right then and there.

 ~

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[space-blue]

No spoilers review of Rings of Power's first 2 episodes

TL;DR : It's great so far overall. Pirate it if you will, but haters beat the hate drum for nothing, in regards to quality.

The detailed version:

I'd like to open by saying I've read the trilogy multiple times, and the hobbit too, but never finished the Silmarillion. I've seen the OG films a million times, and their extended bonuses. I've seen the Hobbit films once or twice (worked in a cinema in NZ at the time the second came out…) but generally dislike them. I've never engaged with fandom much and basically know precious little of what's supposed to go down in the series.

The costumes are good. Some better than others.

The characters are all engaging. I've seen reviews that didn't care much for the harfoots, but I found them adorable and was often grinning during their scenes. There is definitely a sense of slow pace, with the characters building slowly and giving no indication of where the series might take them. I don't mind actually. I don't want tropes thrown in my face 2h in if there will be time to build.

The CGI is perfectly fine. Some scenes are more obvious than others, but I never really broke immersion except for a couple of scenes where I thought "maybe this would be nicer if practical". I have no idea what the workload was like for CG artists. It's usually shit, and I can't imagine Amazon treats their workers well in any domain. But they did a fantastic job. This is NOT TV show quality CG. This isn't Marvel or even Star Wars. This is very careful, very well executed, and I felt like watching two movies, not two tv episodes.

The plot... Is very slow to build. I honestly don't mind, because there's a satisfying sense of mystery throughout. I'm invested in all the storylines so far, to my own surprise.

The music is good too. It's not often noticeably "insane" the way it could be in the films, with tracks like for the Nazgul attack at Bree that just rips you from your seat. but overall I never thought the music was lacking, and noticed a few great tracks, notably at Khazad-Dûm! There are some very interesting sounds here and there and I think I'll get the OST as it's the sort of stuff I'll do some great writing to.

The one massive drawback so far for me is EDITING. OMG the editing. I don't know what they think they are doing, but I suspect they believe audiences need some sort of constant back and forth between PoVs to keep our interest? It this the TikTok editing trend? lol I joke but I genuinely wondered if this was edited for the tik tok crowd.

I'm really looking forward to the whole show being out and some pro editor reclipping this nicely. Some scenes, you will have very low interest walking, some talking... there's a mystery afoot... ok... And then oof, they discover something suspicious! A creepy tunnel! Character drops down into it and finally, we're talking. Something interesting. CUT!! And yeah, that happens a lot. They cut away from scenes that finally become good, or that have been built up to.

For me it did nothing but frustrate me.

Otherwise, nope, I like it. MILD SPOILERS FOR CHARACTERS:

I think Galadriel is great as a Trauma Queen. She has that one line, telling a human who's asking her to "let it lie" that "It would take longer than your lifetime even to speak the names of those they have taken from me. So letting it lie is not an option."

And I was both like "yasss queen!" but also "do elves have therapy? Because please, try and get some of that, you need it."

There was a lot of misogyny dressed in white knighting for "strong female characters" online in the last months, and I wish a happy fuck off to all people who will be hating on "strong female uwu Galadriel". I think there's some interesting acting choices going on, and the more we see of her, the more apparent it is that she GAINED her composure, but wasn't always so. I feel it's a great exchange for knowing she isn't at risk in this show. Instead of wondering if she'll "make it", I can wonder how she became the Galadriel I know. I hope they do her justice!

Elrond is fine! He's got depth!

There also was a fuss around the black elf, Arondir... AND YOU CAN ALL FUCK OFF TOO, HE'S MY PRECIOUS!!! Dude is a fucking gardener turned soldier in this war, he's relatable in his fears and bravery... And his name means "to round up" in French. He's sweet and I'm invested in his story. Some of the more chilling scenes came from his side actually.

And OMG DURIN!!! During and Elrond have this fantastic energy to them, I loved their scenes. And yeah, no beard on the Dwarven ladies. But I didn't mind. I found Disa super charming.

Also, a lot of scenes had fantastic fandom energy. I was watching, enjoying myself, and a little monkey at the back of my mind was like "ooohohohohohoho the tumblrinas are gonna be posting about this, I know it." But not in a bad way at all. More in like... there is space for tropes and retellings, and fix its and missing scenes... and I can already tell what's gonna be excellent at a glance. The visit at Khazad-Dûm is one of those settings imo.

Anyway, if the quality remains the same, it will be a fantastic show and a great addition to my personal canon of the Lord of the Rings. I think my final edition will be taken from fandom spaces when someone fixing the woeful editing... But I'm going to keep watching religiously until further notice!!

[aminiatureworld]

Damocles

Characters: Zhongli, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,211

Warnings: Hanahaki disease – depictions of a fictional illness with symptoms mimicking tuberculosis, mentions of coughing up blood, talking a lot about death

Premise: In which the reader thinks Zhongli doesn’t reciprocate their feelings, and fears the consequences.

Author’s Note: Ngl, I don’t think I’ve ever really heard about this trope before, except maybe in passing. So if it’s a little weird that’s why.

I ended up taking the story in a bit of a macabre direction. Hopefully not too melodramatic, but I kinda like how it turned out.

Zhongli

“Thank you for telling me, but I’m afraid I cannot return your feelings. I’m sorry to be a disappointment.”

 In truth you couldn’t decide whether or not you had expected your feelings to be returned. You and Zhongli had been friends for years now, and you had grown closer to him than you had to most of your previous friends and acquaintances. Indeed, you had grown closer to him than you had to many of the people you’d been in previous relationships in. You called upon him in some form almost every day, whether it be to discuss something of importance or simply bask in his presence. When there was something new you found about, whether it be a story in a book or a particularly funky looking shell, you almost immediately sought out Zhongli to share your find with.

For Zhongli’s part, he also liked to share experiences with you. At the very least you couldn’t say that your friendship was one sided. He often would be the one to walk up to you on the street, a new brand of tea written down on a piece of paper in his pocket, or a location where one could find particularly beautiful glaze lilies on his lips. He never seemed to mind when you peppered him with endless questions, or talked his ear off about your own day; something which you often asked if he found annoying. No, you were very sure that Zhongli wasn’t simply spending time with you out of pity.

In truth it was your friends who guessed the trajectory of your personal feelings before you did. Though you often found their poking and prodding intensely irritating, they had the common sense to keep the questions to a minimum – perhaps in hope their silence might guarantee that your affections would reveal themselves naturally one day. Now though you had to admit they had been right. You had fallen for Zhongli how long ago? It seemed so difficult to say when, so gradually had your feelings changed from viewing him as a confidante to viewing him as something more. Once you had finally come to terms with it you’d put off revealing your feelings as long as possible.

It wasn’t just the chance of rejection, something that would already cause emotions to run high. You had seen what sort of disease could ravage those who were unlucky in love. One of your own friends had suffered from such a disease, a fellow member of the Liyue Qixing had died from such a thing only a few months ago.

It was a terrible disease, everyone at least could agree about that. The origins of such an unfathomable sickness was much less understood. Most saw it as a curse from the gods, a punishment to the humans who would love a fellow mortal more than those who ruled above them, who gave their protection, their mercy, and their gifts to the people below. Others argued that it was simply a result of stress, for what heart could take the shock of a truly deep rejection. A rare parasite, a curse from malevolent demons, all these theories made little difference when it came to the actual disease. You were fairly sure anyways that people dying of it couldn’t care less why it happened, only that it was happening to them.

First came the coughing, easy enough to ignore in a land where the common cold truly lived up to its name. Then you couldn’t run as fast or as far as you had once, at least on the days were you weren’t fighting off crippling fatigue – the night sweats doing little to help you in your desperate need for rest. Then the fever set in, then the blood that stained the porcelain sink. By the time the first few petals would appear emaciation would already begin to claim your muscle mass and the precious body fat that kept you alive. Some people didn’t even get to the point of regurgitating fully formed flowers. Those people were usually considered lucky, for when one must deal with an incurable disease, well, surely it is better to go sooner rather than later.

You wouldn’t lie and say that wasn’t one of the reasons it took you so long to confess. After all, what you don’t know won’t kill you, right? You weren’t actually sure about that, but it sounded right in your mind, regardless of its actual veracity. However, as with most people in love, you’d found a growing recklessness inside you, paired with the sudden desperation for a happiness which you would certainly never obtain at this rate. So you’d made up your mind to tell him, deciding that perhaps the certainty would be better than the ever growing cloud of anxiety that surrounded your thoughts.

Now you’d been rejected. You had to admit that your first reaction was utter panic, the distinct feeling of having made a terrible sort of mistake. Oh sure, your feelings were undeniably hurt, but that was less important than the virtual death sentence you’d been handed. Why oh why had you decided to do this? The world seemed to swim in front of your for a moment, as simultaneously everything came into sharp focus and faded away into the recesses of your mind. What would you do now? There was nothing to do, you just had to wait for the inevitable, wait for the cold embrace of death to welcome you to its abode. You took deep breaths, trying to control yourself. Tears were forming in your eyes, but you knew that they weren’t from romantic distress. Ironically romance was the last thing in your mind right now.

“I, I see. Thank you for your honesty.”

It was all you could manage to make out. Turning around, head light from fear, you bolted down the streets of Liyue, desperate to be in your home, desperate to ignore the sword of Damocles that now hung dangerously low over your head.

 Zhongli watched you go, watched as you stumbled your way through the crowd that always packed the streets of Liyue in the daytime. He was fine, he was perfectly fine. He had seen it through, had done what he knew was right. There was no reason to regret. Surely the small stab of pain he felt was temporary, a pinprick compared to all that the ex-archon had suffered over the years.

Zhongli had suspected that a confession like this might’ve been on the horizon for quite some time now. Not that he was dreading it out of a personal inability to reciprocate. No, in his heart Zhongli already reciprocated your suspected feelings. He loved you, adored you even; within the stony heart that had atrophied over years of war, suffering, and personal duty, grew a love that Zhongli had not felt for a very long time. He cherished every moment with you, knowing that his long life would try to compress the memories that were so precious to them. Seeing you whenever he could, dragged out conversations as long as he possibly could, Zhongli was practically desperate for time with you. He was also intensely aware of how short that time would ultimately be.

How could Zhongli push the curse of loving an immortal being on you? For it truly was a curse, to both parties involved. His side was painful of course, the knowledge that your memory, you lifespan even, would slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He would always be wondering whether or not the two of you would be experiencing a “last”. Last visit to the sea, last time to climb up the Huaguang Stone Forest to watch the sunset together. Last, last, last. Always the shadow of death would hang over you, so palpable in Zhongli’s mind that he might almost reach out and grasp the gossamer veil that would eventually steal you away. Yes, it would be a truly painful experience. Not nearly as painful however as your own experience.

Zhongli had long ago come to the conclusion that mortals had no true concept of the passage of time. You were young now, the world was your oyster. Zhongli’s immortal status would be nothing more than a passing thought, an anomaly and nothing more. Then your 40th birthday would pass, then you 50th, then you 60th, 70th, 80th. By the time you reached the end of your life the difference between you and Zhongli would stretch out like a chasm between the two of you, something to never be reconciled, for the old rarely forgave the young for their youth. Not to mention the other scenario, the one that Zhongli would never allow the freedom to truly cloud his thoughts. Your death of old age would be a tragedy, the alternative a catastrophe.

He knew all this, had seen it time and time again. Zhongli was hardly the first immortal being to fall in love with a mortal, would not be the last. Adepti, archons, all walks of immortal life were drawn to humanity, drawn to the freedom that came with mortality. Humans did things because they died; they had no forcible tie to nature, no innate duty other than to themselves. Humans could be wicked or kind or cruel or merciful as they wished. To those who were chained by their destiny, well, there was something very anomalous in such a choice. Perhaps it was no surprise then that an immortal being would inevitable find themselves interacting with those supposedly below them. Perhaps it was no surprise that this often led to love.

All that being true, Zhongli still refused to give into his needless selfishness. He loved you, yes. Knowing that was enough. He wouldn’t push such a burden on you, wouldn’t cause you resentment or pain. It would be better if you thought that your feelings weren’t reciprocated, it would be less painful.

Nor would you have to worry about the curse to which many less lucky fell. Zhongli still loved you, still cherished you deeply. You would never have to worry about that, for archons and adepti do not move on from love the way humans do. Zhongli’s love for you would long outlast your lifespan, one which, the archon prayed, would be very long indeed.

Yes, everything had been handled well enough. Perhaps you would never wish to speak with him again, perhaps you would grow to resent him even, how quickly love can turn into hate. It didn’t matter though. Zhongli had shielded you from long, drawn-out suffering, and that was all that mattered. He should’ve been satisfied, should have felt relief. Instead however he only felt a great sadness pressing down, a sadness combined with the pain that accompanied a love that must never truly be realized.

 It had been nine days since you’d been rejected by Zhongli. Crossing off another square on the calendar which you had dug out of your old stationary you sighed. The nine days succeeding the encounter had been utter hell. At first you were convinced that the worst thing that could happen was the symptoms of the wretched illness showing up quickly, so convinced you were that the next day you would wake up with blood on your pillow. Soon however, you’d come to a completely different conclusion. There was nothing worse than waiting.

Every day was spent in the agony of anticipation, every day waiting for the coughing to begin, for the night sweats to begin ravaging your sleep, for the breathe to be stolen from your lungs. Yet every day you woke up with none of these things, though your fatigue was real enough.

You should have been relieved, should have been glad for the opportunity to live even a few more days. Yet instead of relief you only felt deep, unrelenting dread. You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything, so crippled were you by morbid anticipation.

Not that your thoughts were particularly worthwhile either. Perhaps it would be one thing if your ruminations had brought up something profound, something that you could write down in a book for your family or your friends. Though it still would be poor solace, well, at least it’d be something. But your thoughts had all turned to mush, replaced by a paranoia so strong it confined you to your bed most days.

You thought that the death sentence would in some way be freeing, that you might be able to recklessly throw yourself at all the things you had avoided out of fear for so long. Instead you found yourself depressed, waiting for an inevitable so terrifying you found yourself disconnecting from the people around you. What did it matter anyways? You’d be dead soon enough.

This gross neglect of your wellbeing was at least somewhat allayed by the routine that had been drilled into your body from so many years working for the Liyue Qixing. Though you didn’t go to work, something you were sure you were going to hear about eventually, you still dared to venture out to the market. At the very least you would eat your fill in good for before the end was nigh. No need to worry about your health after all. Besides, your definition of good food didn’t necessarily always align with completely unhealthy.

Walking through the familiar streets you stared at the people around you. How odd it was to see people so close you could touch them but so far they might as well have been in Inazuma. Was there anyone else here suffering like you were? Anyone who could understand the thoughts that now flooded your brain? You stared at the ground, trying not to think about it. You’d be confronted with these thoughts the minute you got home anyways. Might as well delay it a bit.

Turning to find the fishmonger you spied a familiar silhouette. Stopping in your tracks you stared unabashedly at Zhongli. The man seemed to be carrying himself much as ever, but the unapproachable atmosphere which he’d blanketed himself in seemed somewhat more prominent. Perhaps it was your imagination, he seemed to be talking to the butcher easily enough. Not that it was any of your business. Zhongli wasn’t any of your business anymore. It would be better if you could forget him, if you could erase this feeling in your heart that refused to go away. Even now Zhongli was beautiful. Even now you wished to run up to him, to hug him, to make pretend everything was right with the world. You couldn’t do that though. Just as you couldn’t forget him, you couldn’t love him. Not in the way you wanted. Turning away you trudged back home, good food utterly forgotten.

It was day eighteen since Zhongli had rejected you, and by now your emotions were running almost unbearably high. You’d sunk into an odd reverie of adrenaline, anxiety, and utter disbelief. What in the world was going on? This was a familiar illness to you, something that had almost claimed the life of your friend and had felled your coworker. You knew everything about symptoms, timeline, etc.; and what you knew was you were supposed to be falling ill ages ago. Eighteen days between the initial rejection and the beginning of symptoms? It was unheard of! You didn’t know what to think. Were the rumors about the gods true, had Zhongli imposed some divine protection on you for the sake of your friendship? Were you somehow a superhuman who had the white blood cell coding to defeat the bacteria that caused this disease? Why hadn’t your descent begun yet?

You lounged on the couch, having moved out of your bedroom on the thirteenth day, three days after the latest possible showing of symptoms. Though you still felt deeply afraid, you found that curiosity was a surprisingly good deterrent when it wanted to be. Your fears hadn’t disappeared, but mixed with them was a disbelief so great that you often found your thoughts drifting to questions of how rather than questions of when.

Of course your initial instinct had been to seek out Zhongli. Pride mixed with fear however had kept you firmly at home. Really what was the point in even seeking out the answer to your miraculous reprieve at this point? It wouldn’t really change the outcome. Instead you might as well enjoy this unexpected extension of your life. Besides, you didn’t want to tempt the fates a second time.

 Zhongli stood at the window of your first story apartment, a glaze lily in hand. He hadn’t meant to do this, but the urge refused to leave him.

He’d noticed you a few times at the market, face drawn, eyes empty. Zhongli wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting, but certainly this wasn’t it. He knew you weren’t suffering from illness, your pace was strong, if slightly erratic, your general aura not that of the sick that Zhongli was all too familiar with. Why then did you look so terrible? The doubts that had plagued Zhongli began to rise again, jeering at the mistake he had made. He was supposed to protect you, right? Why then did you look as if you had experienced a total health collapse?

At first Zhongli tried to ignore it. You had not come to him for help, it was not his place to try and insert himself back in your life once more. The more he thought of you however, the more he found himself uneasy. He had to have some form of communication, some way to enquire about your health. At least one last time. If you explicitly rejected all forms of contact, well then Zhongli would leave. He would never defy your wishes in such a way. Until then however, he felt like he needed to ask.

The idea of walking up to your apartment and asking you was utterly off the table. Who knew how that might end? No, he wanted a subtler way. Glaze lilies had always been a favorite of yours, sneaking out into the evening to see them bloom even more so. He would simply leave one on your windowsill. If you took it, then he would enquire about your health. If you left it, well Zhongli would have his answer.

His hand trembled slightly as he stared at the windowsill, causing the gold ribbon tied around the lily to tremble slightly. At first Zhongli wanted only to give you the flower. He realized soon however that you might be confused, wondering if someone had not simply dropped a flower on your windowsill, or had the wind blown it there? The ribbon would hopefully clear things up. Even if it looked a little silly.

Slowly placing the flower down onto the open window Zhongli sighed. Turning around he did not dare spare a glance backwards. He would have his answer soon enough after all. Until then, well, there was no point in looking back.

 You exited from the kitchen, having finally felt the energy to make yourself that good food you’d been promising yourself. Going to look at the sunset you let out a soft gasp.

On your windowsill was a single glaze lily, wrapped in gold.

[legends-live-in-memories]

Business (Mis)Management

AYO you know the drill. MGI Trope Tussle! 

Fics Masterlist

Timari Oneshot 2.3K words

Summary: 

"Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. "

One shot using two prompts for this server event: Day 3:College AU Day 5: "Why'd you do that?" "I- I don't know..."

without further ado: 

It was Tuesday, bright and early at 9:30 am, and Marinette was ready to commit murder. She was sitting in her Intro to Business Management course with her cup of coffee and notepad ready and pencil about to snap in her grip. Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. 

Right there, on this awful Tuesday morning, stood one Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne looking all the world like he would rather be anywhere else; stupid rich people were all the same, thinking the world was doing them a favour by letting them grace everyone else with their presence. Marinette also wishes he was anywhere else but life doesn’t work that way. Her actual professor stood off to the side, waxing sonnets about how accomplished the young CEO was and Marinette listened to none of it. Rather, she was silently stewing in her thoughts, lost in how this man became the particularly large thorn in her side.

It was six months ago when she got an email asking for a commission. A commission for the exact three piece suit he was wearing today. He had gotten her contact from another client and his emailed request was perfect and professional. He had asked for the suit, listed all the required measurements and requested any personalizations he wanted. They couldn’t meet for any in-person fittings so it was currently both aggravating and satisfying to see it fit his lean figure so perfectly. The drama didn’t start, however, until two weeks after, when Marinette had sent the finished product to the designated address. While Marinette isn’t one for showboating and bragging about her capabilities, it grinds her teeth when others try to talk down on her skills. 

When Marinette had sent off the suit, and emailed the man that the package was to be expected within three business days, she got a rather crude email in response, labeling her work as ‘tacky’ and a ‘pathetic attempt at wiggling her way into his family’s pockets.’ That had her doubletaking at the sender, making sure it wasn’t some spam mail that she was reading. Nope, that’s his email right there. Marinette remembered a particular twitch she had in her eye the first time she read that email. It was one thing to be ungrateful of a finished product, Marinette was no stranger to harsh critiques and pieces that worked better on paper than as actualized designs, but the accusation of being a gold-digger set off warning bells that threw her back into the tenth grade where she had battles with a rich blonde with daddy issues. At least he had paid her in advance for the suit. Marinette would have been perfectly fine with silently cutting all ties with Mr. Wayne right then and there, and putting the whole ordeal behind her, until he decided that a crassly worded email wasn’t enough. No. He felt compelled to go on national television and insult her suit for everyone to hear. Marinette remembers his words perfectly, as if they were ingrained in her memory forever.

“You’ve seen the suits I’ve worn, I look like I escaped my own funeral. I’ve tried local, and outsourcing designers and tailors and nothing matches my taste. I’m only twenty-three and I dress like I’ve gone through my third divorce—”Marinette had turned off the television to shamelessly cry into her pillow. She couldn’t bear to hear him insult her design over the poorly timed laughs of the ‘live-studio audience’ that particular interview was filmed in front of. 

After that, Marinette had reaffirmed her conclusion that all rich people were assholes best left to their own privileged bubble. 

A solid clap snapped her attention back to the front of the lecture hall, eyes narrowing at the man by the podium. The presentation pulled up on the smart board indicated that he was going to be speaking to them about professionalism and how to engage in buyer-seller conversations. Oh that was bloody perfect. What did this guy know about any of those things? 

The time was 9:45 exactly when the guy decided to start his presentation. 

“Hello, everyone,” his voice was smooth and firm, not wavering while speaking before a hall filled with two hundred students. “My name is Timothy Drake-Wayne but you all can just call me Tim. It’s lovely to meet all of you and I’m honoured to be here speaking for you today.” 

Cue a very predictable, very standard, very boring introduction. Marinette was beginning to tune out at this point.

“To start off this presentation, I would like to talk about misunderstandings in professional conversations.” He started walking across the front of the room. Slow and methodical; he knew he had all eyes on him and he was taking full advantage of it. Marinette wanted to gag. “Additionally, I want to discuss how to avoid them, and what to do if miscommunication occurs.”

Blah, blah blahblah. Marinette didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.

“To start off, I’m going to talk about a situation I found myself in not too long ago.” That caught her attention. “It’s funny now and makes for great dinner conversation but not so much when it had happened. How many of you siblings?”

He paused and surveyed the room. His eyes passed over Marinette and for a brief second she thought he focused on her for a blink longer than necessary. She banished the thought from her mind; she didn’t have siblings so he had no reason to notice her.  

“Now,” he continued, “how many of you have siblings who aren’t afraid to sabotage your work when they’re mad at you?” 

Another pause as some of the students lowered their hands. Some were unsure and Marinette had a weird feeling in her gut. Her instincts were screaming at her but she couldn’t figure out why.

“Don’t feel shy,” the guy raised his hand to join the students, “my younger brother is a menace who can and has attempted to sabotage my business. Just recently in fact.”

Marinette looked around the room to see quite a few surprised faces. She was vaguely familiar with the Wayne family and remembered a few details about the youngest child. He was a menace, that’s for sure. As egotistical as any thirteen year old can be. That feeling in her gut returned with vigor. She was suddenly very alert and eager, almost desperate, to figure out how the ankle biter had sabotaged this man.

“About six months ago my brothers and I were butting heads as usual. My sister was enjoying everything while shit hit the fan from a safe distance. I’m not going to go into much details.” He’s arms were waving animatedly as he spoke. It was quite endearing. NO. Bad thoughts, Marinette. “The point of all this is that I pissed my younger brother off somehow. I don’t know, maybe I breathed too hard on his cat or something.” That got a laugh out of the students except Marinette. Six months. He said his brother had sabotaged him around six months ago. That gut feeling had turned her stomach into a pit, eating away at her nerves.

“My brother had hacked into my email and sent absolutely horrible replies to everyone that was marked as important in my contacts in a poor attempt at pretending to be me. Of course, most of those contacts work at Wayne Enterprises. It took a courtesy email explaining the mishap and a personal visit with an apology gift to clear the air. Now for the contacts who don’t work at Wayne E, that’s where it gets tricky.”

Marinette was holding her breath, wishing for this day to already be over and for the ground to open and swallow her whole. She both hoped she was and wasn’t wrong. On the one hand, it meant that he was truly that harsh in replying to her and she wasn’t among the contacts his brother emailed, justifying her slowly dwindling fury. On the other more plausible hand, it meant that he wasn’t responsible for the crude email. It still didn’t explain the interview he did but…but she never did watch the entire thing. She had started watching the interview already expecting him to tear her down. He never referenced her suit by any specifics before she had changed the channel. That probably meant that she had poorly misjudged him. But she would have been contacted in some way if she was among those people and she hadn’t. So he was still an ass to her. Right? 

“For those who I couldn’t visit in person,” Oh god, he was still speaking. “I sent them more personal emails compared to what I sent the employees. That was really the most I could do and I hoped for the best. I got a reply from most; they were rather understanding, actually, some even claiming that their own siblings would do something like that. It went over pretty well.” He suddenly had this forlorn look as he rubbed his hands absentmindedly against the suit. 

“While I was lucky that most of my contacts were understanding, one important thing to be prepared for is people who won’t be that forgiving. Do you see this suit I’m wearing? I love this suit. I will absolutely get buried in this suit. I had commissioned and received it just before the email fiasco and I, regrettably, never got a response when I tried to both thank and apologize to them. My brother had used my email to accuse them of being a gold-digger of all things. I would have loved to commission them again but it looks like my brother burned that bridge permanently.”

What? No. That’s not true and Marinette felt hot rage flare up in her. Was he really lying to try and save face right now? She felt the strong urge to interrupt him. To march down those steps and let him know exactly how she felt about him lying about emailing her to apologize. But, a treacherous hopeful part of herself whispered to her, she had to be sure. She had to have irrefutable proof that she wasn’t one of the victims to his rabid brother and he was just an ass. 

She couldn’t get to her phone fast enough. She searched for all the emails the two had exchanged, finding the most recent to be his harsh email. She had another niggling feeling, however, and decided to check her spam mail. 

Marinette has most definitely stopped breathing. 

Right there, in bold letters sat a Wayne Enterprises email waiting to be opened and read. She couldn’t bring herself to click it open, ice flooding her veins, freezing her in her seat. She actually misread the situation. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to bash her head on the table and grovel for forgiveness from this very handsome man. She didn’t do any of this, however, managing some degree of composure and sat through the remainder of his presentation. She would bet her left leg it was the best presentation she would have ever heard but she couldn’t recall a single word of it from that point on; too busy digging her own grave and writing her own eulogy. She could never show her face around Gotham again. Her life was ruined.

The sounds of people packing up had her crawling herself out of her own head. She mechanically packed her things up, gazing pathetically at her blank notebook. She made her way down the steps, eyeing the gaggle of students surrounding Marinette’s biggest missed opportunity to date. She was just about to walk straight out the door, resigning herself to her fate when she made a hasty decision. She turned to the dwindling crowd and marched like a woman on a mission. She wormed her away to stand directly in Tim’s line of sight and she braced herself for possibly her dumbest idea yet. She listened to the conversation going on and as soon as it appeared she was not going to interrupt anyone, she shot her hand out and grabbed him by his suit. The act caught everyone’s attention but before she could chicken out, she turned to leave and pulled the businessman along with her, leaving stunned silence behind. 

They didn’t get far out the door when he yanked her arm off him, stopping them in their tracks. He looked angry, confused but also very put out at her. Fair. 

“Why’d you do that?” 

“I— I don’t know.” His glare was intense. Marinette felt her face flush and her knees weaken. She wanted to make things right but it seemed she was only making things worse. She took a breath. Focus, she reminded herself. She just needed to address one problem at a time. “I mean, I do know why but I wasn’t supposed to do it like that. I just needed your attention.”

“Well now you have it. So what do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize. Not about dragging you out here. Yet. But for accidentally ignoring your apology email.” One of his eyebrows rose incredulously as she kept talking, but she ignored it and powered on. “It was, for some reason, in my spam mail and I didn’t see it. But if it’s any consolation, I would love it if you commissioned me for another suit. Or anything else really.” 

“Pardon?” He didn’t believe her, or was at least confused by her, that much she could tell.

“You suit. I made it. Here, look.” She turned her phone screen, showing him their conversations in her emails. At his slightly more relaxed posture she continued speaking. “I’m glad you like the suit.”

“Huh.”

“Also I’m sorry for dragging you out here.” She had curled her shoulders into her ears, still holding her phone out like an idiot. His chuckle in response eased her nerves only slightly. He had a cute laugh. And he was cute too. Bad thoughts! Stop getting distracted!

“Okay, I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine.” The carefree smile he threw at her was disarming. “And I would love to talk more about working with you, Ms. Cheng.”

“Marinette, please, Mr. Wayne.” She could breathe easier now, no longer on the verge of catastrophizing. “If you want to get started as early as possible, I’m free for an early lunch right now.”

“Only if you call me Tim. And lunch sounds great actually. I know a great bistro off campus if you will let me escort you.” He really needed to stop smiling at her like that. Her heart couldn’t take it.

“Sounds wonderful. Lead the way.” He turned and offered her his arm. She was slow to move, still faintly caught in the emotional whiplash of the morning. Her gentle grip on his bicep was enough for her to feel the muscle definition under the suit. It pleasantly surprised her but not nearly as much as his next words.

“Perfect. It’s a date.”

What?

[captnjacksparrow]

Why do I ship SNS?

It is a known fact that when people experience a good media, they like to discuss various things they liked, hated, interpret what the creator trying to say and get something from what they have consumed. Eventually people end up in a shipping war if there are multiple possibilities. 

I started watching Naruto on a whim, hoping to see some ninjas in action with some revenge as a background (after all when you have power, there will always be a revenge). Am a sucker for revenge, btw. I am a person who hates romance in media. Because, every movie, book, novel, series has this same recycled romance plastered into every story even though the story don’t need at all. So, I am very tired of it. Every media portrays romance as something inevitable, necessary and something we can’t live without. That’s wrong. 

Usually, romance goes like this... Person A sees Person B... they hate each other and add some possessiveness, jealousy... they magically gets attracted through some shared experiences eventually... they kiss and make babies. There’s nothing wrong with this. It’s just very tiring as I’ve seen million forms of this same repeated trope. I always cringe and yell “Can you give us something different? Grrr.....”.

And also, my motto is that love can happen with any person. It can’t be restrained into certain boundaries. So, I don’t like to put some relationship under an umbrella called Gay, Lesbian, Straight or whatever. Of course, illicit relationships and incest are not normal and am not okay with it.

With all that being said...

My experience after watching the Shippuden series until episode 478 was “Wait, do they love each other?”. I know am very late to realize this, but I have never even viewed them with any romantic lens throughout. 

On my first watch, I was always under the impression that “They are friends”... But there are certain moments I felt “Wait, why are they doing like this which could’ve been handled in a different way!!” I will get to this later in this post. But those moments were overlooked by me because of my curiosity of “What happens next ??”. 

And on my rewatch, it only confirmed my view. 

The other popular ships like SS and NH put forth many points to invalidate what SNS represents. The most common being “They are reincarnated brothers” or  “They are best friends”. Am just going to debunk them from my point of view. 

Naruto and Sasuke are like brothers.....

Nope. 

The best brotherhood title, in this series, should officially go to Itachi and Sasuke. 

You can argue as much as you want that Itachi mindfucked Sasuke and killed his parents....yaada yaada.... 

It is repeatedly shown why Itachi put a curtain on his own clan. The reason is, Uchiha clan decided to forcefully take over the village. No matter how much innocent you are, you cannot take over something with force. Dot. I will write about this in a separate post.

In short, Sasuke realised how his clan members were wrong after hearing the story from the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju. That’s why he openly proclaimed “I am going to protect Konoha and become Hokage”. 

Back to the topic, Itachi and Sasuke are blood brothers. If I ship them both, then what you claim is very valid. 

The above gif says, “Sasuke, I know, I made a mistake by filling you with hatred. But whatever you decide to do from now on, I will love you always”. Meaning, He stopped treating Sasuke as a kid and accepts that Sasuke has his own path to walk.

This is exactly how brothers behave. I would do the same to my kid sister. You can see a fraternal instinct from Itachi’s eyes realizing that this is their last time together.

Another thing, Brothers trope always has this hierarchy.... Protect the younger sibling no matter what. It is evident from Madara/Izuna and Hashirama/Tobirama.

Not convinced?

If you pull the Indra and Ashura bullshit, let me tell you one thing. Indra and Ashura were separated and formed their own clan long ago. They eventually branched off into Uchiha and Senju clans. No way you can relate a century old blood relation as brothers. It’s just their chakra got reincarnated over and over. 

Don’t pull up an incest angle between Naruto and Sasuke. Because they never shared a womb. Dot. 

Naruto and Sasuke are Best Friends only.

You know what, you are almost right. I thought that for a very long time. Remember I never wore any shipping goggles ON. 

There are two types of best friend categories. Best Friends without a reason and Best Friends through rivalry. 

Best Friends without a reason in Narutoverse are: Shikamaru/Choji. 

They just became friends and became BFF. They won’t fight or hurt each other. But when you have something to share...you would go to that person and share everything honestly.

Best Friends through Rivalry: Kakashi/Obito, Hashirama/Madara, Naruto/Sasuke

I really cannot provide more proof for the first two pairings as Best Friends as it is not the scope of this post. Although the latter two also qualifies for shipping category. Why?

Because, the common thing among them is that all the three Uchihas awakened/reawakened their Sharingan for their best friend. But Hashirama/Madara and Naruto/Sasuke are the only pairings to awaken or evolve Sharingan when trying to break their bonds with each other. 

Special Brownie points for Madara. He had 4 brothers and lost 3 but still couldn’t awaken his Sharingan but when trying to break up with Hashirama, his eyes were brimming red. 

Sasuke’s Sharingan matures in the first Valley of The End.

That’s why I excluded Hashirama/Madara and Naruto/Sasuke from this Best Friends list.

Because to the both Uchihas, the other person meant something special which cannot be comprehended into a mere term called ‘Best Friends’.

Which is exactly why Kakashi/Obito would perfectly fall into this category.

The way they quarrel, fight with each other, protect each other are perfect scores for a friendship. What makes them best friends is when Obito decided to give his Sharingan despite Kakashi was always putting a cold air around him and most importantly asked him to protect his love ‘Rin’. Also Kakashi carried his friend’s will to his heart and passed on to Team 7.

It all falls under ‘In the memory of my Best Friend’ trope.

Obito may be a trash but he is a good friend. Because after Rin was killed, he massacred everyone around him except for Kakashi. He could have killed him. Understandable. Or he could have plucked his Sharingan back (because he literally plucked most of the Sharingans from the Uchiha clan massacre and kept those eyes as a reserve). This could have enabled him to use Susanoo. I believe Susanoo can only be used with Mangekyo Sharingan in both eyes. But for some reason, he didn’t. 

So what makes me think Naruto and Sasuke love each other, not as a brother and not as a friend but something beyond which I can’t term?

My way of shipping is not about marriage, sex and rearing babies. Because literally everyone does this as an obligation. 

So, I don’t ship them in terms of living together in my headcanon and having sex daily. Nope. But it is not wrong though if you ship in that sense.

In this Narutoverse, Women are just some stow away pieces whose sole existence is to fawn over their dreamboy and cry for them. (Usually literally nothing useful comes out of them). Me being a girl, as much as I hate this setup but I have come to terms with whatever it is and have accepted it. If you are a girl looking for a strong female character...... this is not the place. Watch something else. 

But I draw inspiration from male characters who are characterized deeply for which I have to applaud the creator. Reason being, the very first character which I connected with was Itachi. It was when Sasuke thinks about his past with his family in the flashback before the first VotE battle in part I. I will be writing a separate post about Itachi in this week. 

In short, If you are a person who wants inspiration, draw it from male characters. Not in a single moment, you stoop so low for characters like Hinata and Sakura. That’s not how I envision myself or any woman. Dot.

With all this being said, I ship them as a couple who necessarily don’t have to get married or have sex... But they each other has some special allowance towards each other in their hearts which no one can touch, not even their wives or children. 

This doesn’t mean I accept what came after episode 478 as they are literally something they made for $$$$$. 

There are some basic traits which are absolutely necessary for a ship to sail successfully. They are Acknowledgement, Reason, No Hierarchy, Influence, Owning each others rights and Privilege. (All these reasons should come from both the sides for the ship to be worthy)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Acknowledgement, I mean here, is to accept and acknowledge what they are to each other.

They both agree that they are Bonded/Friends verbally as well as emotionally.

To me, this is essential in any relationship especially for the ones you are trying to ship. I didn’t see this in any other ships like SS or NH where it is always one sided. Sakura confessed before the village entrance to which Sasuke said “You really are annoying!!”. Hinata proposed in Pain arc. Naruto didn’t even acknowledge her confession. He went on to beg for pardon for Sasuke. Again she proposed in the War at the expense of Love Cupid “Neji”. Naruto went on to joke with Minato that Sakura is his Girl Friend. 

If I were in both of these girls place, I would literally be mad and drop this shit right away.

Wheras in SNS, I saw both the people I am trying to ship were asking “What am I to you?”, to which they reply “You are my friend”. To me this is very important.

Reason

To those who are saying “Love is blind”, “Love is Madness”, “Love needs no reason”, you all need self-evaluation. This is not some K Drama situation where you don’t need any reason. You should know why you love someone and why you need the other’s presence.

Naruto’s reason is very simple.

I could provide many reasons. But here, Sasuke, without any reservations... knowing full well of the consequence if he feed Naruto but still extended the helping hand to someone who was always hostile. It is just like what Iruka did. And many incidents which happened during Land of the Waves arc are evident.

He wanted to be friends with this lonely Uchiha boy way back when he was around 7 or 8 for a simple reason that he understands his pain more than anyone. But he really became friends when they were grouped together for Team 7.  

Sasuke’s reason goes even way beyond when Naruto series started.

“Because he felt relief”.

Imagine a young boy who witnessed a massacre before his eyes and lost everyone he loved. But somehow another young boy of his age made him feel relieved. This explains why Sasuke went all out of his way to make friendship with Naruto despite being aloof. 

Isn’t this what we want from someone we love?  

Rather than being completely insensitive about an orphan life or just stalking from the distance and never offered any support, I would prefer someone who understands my pain from their heart and try to reach me. Sasuke reached out to him by offering the lunch and Naruto reached out to him by making him his rival and bug him.

NO HIERARCHY

This is pretty self-explanatory. Unlike blood brothers, there should be no hierarchy in a relationship I want to ship. 

We saw Naruto yells at Sasuke many times absolutely for no reason, despite Sasuke bearing this cold attitude. Probably he is the only person who can call him by such variety of names. 

Sasuke always calls him by his trademark ‘Usuratonkachi’. Sometimes he calls him fool just like everyone. But was never insulting or mean towards Naruto. Except for that time in the final battle, he made fun of his Shadow Clone jutsu citing his loneliness. 

In short, be it a physical fight or verbal offense.... neither of them wilts like a flower. They equally give back. 

The only other person who can verbally assault Sasuke is Karin and probably the only girl who never addresses him as “Sasuke-Kun”. 

U-SU-RA-TON-KA-CHI..... Why do Sasuke spend such an effort to call someone with a 6 syllabic word, instead NA-RU-TO, a 3 syllabic word which is way more convenient to call?? I always wonder.

POSITIVE INFLUENCE

I don’t have to spell out anything here. There are many obvious examples but will try to keep it short. 

Naruto became strong because of Sasuke. He trained hard for 3 years with Jiraiya , a month with Kakashi developing Rasen Shuriken and controlled Kurama’s power with Killer Bee. Except for Sage Mode jutsu everything he learnt was all for bringing Sasuke back. 

In short, Sasuke is Naruto’s predominant strength. 

Though Naruto was not the source of strength for Sasuke, but he brings out many vibrant emotions in Sasuke which he really needed for his traumatic mind otherwise he would always be that cold angry brooding doll without any emotions and I am sure Sasuke enjoys to banter with Naruto.

LOL!!! I don’t know why Sasuke feels competitve here. It’s pretty childish even for Sasuke.

Friendly tease :-) I think he also protected Sakura in this scene. He can also ask her the same, isn’t it? I mean as a friend. 

The best one is yet to come

It’s incredibly hilarious to see how Sasuke pouts when he was with Naruto. Sakura!!!! You third wheeling joker :-D :-D

Throughout Shippuden, Sasuke never shows his emotions with anyone. He either looks very cold or angry.

Reminiscing his Team 7 days, for a split second. 

Probably the only positive emotion is this, in all of the Shippuden. I mean not counting Episode 478.

I don’t think Sakura brought any kind emotions in Sasuke except annoyance when they were together in Team 7. Or Hinata too. These girls just moan “Sasuke-Kun”, “Naruto-Kun” but brings nothing to the table. Total wastrels!!!!!

OWNING EACH OTHER’S RIGHTS

This section is exactly where SNS moves on to a whole different level.

Sasuke wanted to inflict his pain over everyone who lives in peaceful Konoha for what it did to Itachi. (though I don’t really accept with Sasuke here since he never even bothered to question about his clan’s history, but what he was doing is understandable. Just like Naruto tells him).

But the context here is Sasuke is on a murder rampage. Starting from the Kage Summit, killing Danzo, unnecessarily hurting Karin and almost reached a point where he could not be stopped anymore. Then Ms.Annoying appears. She literally have no fucking clue what Sasuke is going through. So started to spout nonsense that she wanted to go with Sasuke-Kun with an ulterior motive to kill him without a strong resolve. 

The interesting SS dynamics here is Sasuke asks Sakura “Do you know what I want?” and to which she gives a carefree-shitty-pathetic answer “I don’t care. I will do whatever you want”. Geez!!!

If I were Sasuke, I would think, “This person standing before me don’t even care about what I want but coming with an intent to kill me and not only that... she is a kunoichi from Konoha where I planned to inflict my pain by slaughtering them.. I better ram my Chidori and be done with it”... He doesn’t see her as his former Teammate. He just want to kill that person.

However, Kakashi deflects the attack and saves Ms.Useless. 

( Me : I am a Sasuke fan through and through. But, Sakura..... You always says you will do this, do that.... But you never succeed at anything... Why is that? Why are you even continue being a ninja? No one asked you to kill Sasuke, you decided to. But why don’t you kill him. Probably you would’ve earned my begrudging respect... Pffft” ****sighs with a heavy second hand embarassment)

Anyways, Sasuke becomes an unstoppable maniac at this point because he was very irritated on seeing Kakashi and Sakura spouting some unreachable nonsense. So he started to attack Kakashi as he is even more irritated on seeing his Sharingan.

Again, Ms.Idiot wants to kill Sasuke when he is at his weakest point due to chakra exhaustion and that too from behind his back. (You!!! Gutless wrench). Sasuke sensed this and attempted to kill her again... (Naruto!!! You idiot. Why did you save her...)

However, Naruto appears and saves her. Naruto and Sasuke’s eyes meet each other.

But somehow Sasuke calmed down and hears out Naruto for what he has to say. He says, “Whatever you are doing until now, it’s understandable”. 

Kakashi wanted to kill him and Sasuke got riled up and prepare his Chidori. Anyways, Naruto intervenes and they go to some meta physical plane and talks privately. And Naruto comes up with his idea and announces as below:

Me: Naruto!!!! Sweety..... Do you realize that you have a big dream of becoming a Hokage which you have been shouting from Day 1? But still you want to overthrow everything for that one person who is in unbearable pain. It’s alright. But you don’t want to go alone or send him alone. No Best friend would go this far. And to those Sakura shippers.... Why didn’t Sakura try to bear the burden? Why didn’t she come up with this Idea? Afterall, you spout nonsense like ‘Sakura saved Sasuke from Darkness, isn’t it?’ And, Naruto.... Who gave you the right to take his hatred and shoulder the burden? And what makes you think you are that only person to do it??? Sasuke, might have other special person in those 3 years. How can you decide on Sasuke’s behalf??? Aren’t you going overboard ?

The answer to all the above is simple, Naruto can risk anything for Sasuke. And he clearly knew that Sasuke’s only living bond is him.

And what happened next was almost unbelievable and for the first time I thought ‘What is it with these two guys?’. 

Sasuke agrees with Naruto’s proposition to not destroy Konoha before fighting with Naruto. 

Me: Sasuke!!!! You have every right to reject his proposition. Since, he was not in your life for the past 3 years, your side of bond with Naruto should have been cut-off long back, right? Sasuke??? Well, at this point he was just your former Team 7 member. You don’t need to honor your proposition. You can attack Konoha anytime. Why did you accept?

Also Me: Sweety!!! Why do you always question Naruto ‘Who am I to you’? Why do you need his opinion always? There is an annoying princess standing behind Naruto vying for your attention. And yet you didn’t even ask her this question at any time. But before Naruto, you completely calmed down from your rampage and willing to wait for what he has to say plus asking for his validation. After all you don’t care about anything, why just Naruto???

And the reason being, Naruto is still his closest bond which he couldn’t cut off despite trying very hard. After all, Many years ago, Sasuke was the one, who readily jumped in to protect Naruto knowing full well that it’s a trap. He was ready to throw away his revenge for this boy back then. Sasuke is afraid that he will give in to this bond once more and Naruto is his weakness which he wants to eliminate so badly.

This is definitely not any Best Friend would do..... Fix that in your mind.

The purpose of these GIFs is not show how protective Sasuke is..... Well, I can talk about it all day. Let’s save it.

Me: Yo!!!! Sasuke..... You wanted to kill Naruto.... You said so yourself under the bridge. Meaning, He is the only person standing between your goal and your resolve and Naruto is always known to weaken your resolve. And yet why are you protecting him here? There is absolutely no need. Because, if there is a situation like Kaguya where both of you are must needed to save this world , then there is a reason to save him. But why now? Plus do you know, if Naruto dies, then Madara’s plan may not succeed because if a Jinchuriki dies, tailed beast also dies. It is perfect for your Revolution, isn’t it? Who gave you the right to own his life? Obito has his reason to kill Naruto, why not let him?Why is it that you want to personally remove him from your life? If he is dead by an external factor, you can carry on your path without any interference and pain. Why go so far to protect him ?

The answer is Sasuke values Naruto’s life more than his own even during his Team 7 days. He has this high esteem for Naruto and almost consider it to be a shame if some worthless fool takes his life. And Sasuke never hated Naruto. He once hated Itachi and his resolve to kill was real and intense. But when Orochimaru asked him to kill 1000 people for practice, Sasuke never killed anyone. He even implemented no kill policy for his team “Hebi”. So, someone like Sasuke who never liked to kill random innocent people, how could he let some trash take away a life, he considers dearly to the same level of Itachi? That’s why in this situation, his body moved on his own to protect something special for him. He may not agree it, but he always shows it.

But some other ship wankers try to say Sasuke may have said “You are annoying” but inside he deeply loved her which is why he was smiling. If so, Why didn’t Sasuke never showed his care not even once? He not only tried to kill her twice when she was defenseless but also let her die twice or didn’t bother at all during the war. Or show me where these soul level connection happened between SS or NH

In short, Sasuke and Naruto own each other’s rights unconsciously. Because they are the only ones who can understand each other’s soul which nobody can reach.

Me: Oh, by the way Sasuke, I think Susanoo should be used like this. You really don’t need your hand to protect Naruto. Susanoo can do it’s work for you. Minato would be proud though!!!!

PRIVILEGE

Most of the points I written above are in and of itself is a privilege they give for each other and not for anyone else. Privilege is essential in a ship. Because it shows how different a loved one is from normal people. 

For Naruto, 

I originally want to put how he begs for forgiveness on Sasuke’s behalf before Raikage and weeps immeasurably before hyperventilating. But this one trumps the other. Naruto literally broadcasted everyone how important Sasuke is to him and how he regretted not offering his friendship at that time and how he couldn’t stop Sasuke from reaching Orochimaru. 

If you want to inspire Alliance shinobi forces, you should have shown how you worked so hard from the bottom to top. Projecting Sasuke as your regret and inspiring people shows how deeply you prioritize this person which affects you after so many years and hence, you don’t want any more regrets. 

It’s very unconventionally romantic which passes the shipping category in flying colours. 

For Sasuke,

The following is the Land of the waves arc which was novelized in the name of Innocent Heart, Demonic Blood released in 2006. 99.9% of the material is exactly as it happens in Manga/Anime. 

This is the privilege Sasuke provides for Naruto. “ But coming from Sasuke, It almost counted as a hug”... 

BROWNIE POINTS:

Now, the following are the scenes which add a mysterious flavour to this ship. I sincerely don’t understand why Kishimoto put this. I mean I am absolutely happy with it, but why? What was he thinking while drawing these scenes? 

It’s also strange that, whenever they clash a Chidori with Rasengan..... They always gets repelled to their own sides and fall with a loud thump. But Naruto’s posture looks very perfect, I mean it looks like someone carried him and laid him down. Anyways, What’s Sasuke doing on Naruto’s side?? He should have fell on the opposite side. Why didn’t he walk away? There is absolutely no reason for Sasuke to come over to Naruto’s side and have an intense meaningful gaze. 

This is another mysterious plus intense scene. I am still wondering, Is this really Sasuke? He is a person who avoids casual touches with anyone other than his brother. I’ve seen so many times Sasuke rejecting hugs from Sakura. I can’t even imagine what Kishimoto was thinking. 

If you people pass these scenes off as Brotherhood or Best Friend chemistry... Then you lack basic human emotions. That’s all. 

Me: Well, Sasuke, If you really want to kill him, you should have shovelled your sword right through Naruto’s vital point when you made that exuberant landing. There is literally no need for you to draw a long sword in close quarters. And what about the Personal Space??? With your speed, you can land without leaning on Naruto’s shoulders... 

Also Me: Yo, Naruto... You were panicking when Sai does the same....but you don’t even flinch when Sasuke invades your personal space????

Anyways, it’s funny that both the intense scenes I have mentioned here were initiated by Sasuke. Quite strange and thrilling.

So, to conclude.... All these scenes I have mentioned  made me unconsciously ship them as a pair. With all these being said, I believe all the ingredients for a good romance were laid perfectly. A moment of impulsive tension or affection, say a hug, between them after a difficult battle could mess with both and make a romance happen. And I don’t think either of them will deny especially Sasuke. 

I don’t see any of this aspect in other popular ships such as SS and NH. If I am Sakura or Hinata in this universe, I will not be okay with my pair doing all these things with other person. I intentionally left scenes from Episode 478 as it is so intense and require a separate post. I am happy that even without Episode 478, SNS ship sails high. So, I believe both Sakura and Hinata are still fourth wheeling their respective pairs in Boruto universe also, I guess. 

P.S: I don’t watch Boruto

Final memento:

No way a friend will look this mesmerized on seeing the other one. 

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Tf2 headcanons? Aw yeah! So let's say a new merc joins the team. They're a total asshole: Cocky, sarcastic, overconfident, refuse help. But both Spy and Scout see right through that, it's a defense mechanism. How do they go about making this person comfortable enough to not be an asshole?

*chanting* HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMF

Okay, jokes aside, this is one of my favorite tropes. Maybe I’m too naïve to believe that some people are just mean to be mean, or maybe it’s a sort of comfort to know that even the worst people can be understood, but either way, WOOOOOOOOO!

*****************

An Ass For An Ass

Headcanons

Scout:

To be honest, Scout’s threshold for asshole-ery is pretty high. Growing up with eight brothers will do that to you.

But when the new recruit came around, something immediately rubbed him the wrong way.

Recruit always stole his thunder with the crass jokes and over-the-top displays. Every battle turned into a competition, which messed with Scout’s system of fighting. He never had to focus much on his own team before, and now he had to worry about keeping his own reputation upheld while trying not to get stabbed, shot, or blown up.

Recruit also kept hitting on Miss Pauling - even after reminding them again and again that she was lesbian, and was not and never will be into dudes.

“Come on…you just haven’t been with a real man yet…”

“No, no, I’ve been with a lot of men. Real men. I just wasn’t into any of them. After a while, it was kind of obvious.”

But what really pissed a lot of people off was Recruit’s fighting style.

They were an absolute monster on the field - that’s why they were chosen - but every interaction was treated as some sort of survival scenario.

One would think that would be a good thing, but Recruit was ridiculous.

No matter what the situation was, he was fine, he was okay, he could take it, he could fix it.

He could be killed only inches away from a Medic because he would never yell for one. Sometimes Recruit would even show visible anger at being healed. It got to the point where Medic didn’t heal him at all, and just allowed him to die as to not waste time he could give too more grateful patients.

Missions were even worse.

He followed orders to a T, but Pauling had to beg him to leave a failed mission, or to leave without completely destroying the site.

Everyone just took it as Recruit showing off, or having something to prove as a rookie.

It was annoying, but ultimately harmless in most circumstances.

However, it all came to a head when Recruit tried disengage a sentry by himself and was severely injured.

Both Engineer and Medic, who had had to fix most of Recruit’s past and current recklessness, ripped him a new one, one chewing out after the other.

“What we’re you thinkin’, son?! One crossed wire and you woulda blown the whole base!”

“Zhe only reason you are allowed in my lab at all is because it’s in my contract. Personally, I vould have rather left nature to it…”

Since then, Recruit did exactly as he was told, and nothing else. And most of the team liked it that way.

But Scout recognized some warning signs immediately. Fatigue, near silence except for missions, self-isolation, snapping when people got too close…it all paved the way for a pretty nasty (and, for Scout, very familiar) result.

One night, Recruit was sitting on the balcony, and Scout came out with two bottles - a beer for Recruit and a root beer for himself.

(Scout can only drink on the weekends because one, unlike most, he can’t go to work hung over because his job requires a lot of movement, and two, he has no restraint and can’t stop once he starts.)

“What do you want?”

Scout shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?!”

“What are ya willin’ to tell me?”

Recruit just looked at the beer and sneered.

“Can’t we just skip this?” Scout said. “Maybe get to the part where you tell me what kinda Sally Sob Story we’re dealin’ with here?”

Recruit looked away.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t got one. ‘Cause you do. I can see it a mile away. So what happened? Pop leave? Somebody died? Lotta brothers and sisters? Ma had a few too many and smacked ya around?”

Recruit didn’t turn around, but Scout could tell he was crying. He had hit a sore spot. Hard.

“Hey, pal, listen…”

Scout trailed off, then slowly began again.

“…the only reason I know is ‘cause I’ve been through it, ‘kay? Outta everybody I knew, I only trusted me. And that was great when I did a good job, ‘cause I knew I put me there.”

Scout opened his bottle of root beer and took a long swig.

“But when I screwed somethin’ up, it’s like everybody I ever knew just let me down. The one thing I could count on was gone.”

Recruit looked at Scout with tears in his eyes.

“But ya can’t do everything by yourself,” Scout continued. “Believe me. I learned that the hard way.”

Scout laughed, but it was mostly to clear the air. He didn’t get serious very often.

Recruit hadn’t touched his beer, but was leaned over the balcony with his head in his hands.

Scout sighed and looked up at the stars.

“But here’s somethin’ that nobody told me - it gets easier, y’know that? You just gotta relax and cut yourself some slack.”

Recruit shifted uncomfortably. “But the Administrator said…”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know what she said. Gave ya that whole speech about how bein’ part of the team means discipline and focus and whatever. It’s all bull crap. She don’t know the first thing about bein’ on the field. If she did, why’d she hire us?”

“Sh-she said my perseverance was an asset to the team.”

“Perseverance, my ass. You know what would be an asset to the team? Stayin’ alive for more than fifteen minutes!”

Recruit looked at his feet. He had blinked away his tears, but he still looked on the verge of falling apart.

Scout put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it a little.

“You’re a great fighter, Recruit. You’re one of the best…that’s why you’re here. You got nothin’ to prove to nobody. Not to me, not to the team, not to the Administrator…not even to yourself. You’ve made it, kid. You’ve made it.”

Scout slid his hand off Recruit and started to walk away.

“Hey.”

Scout turned to see Recruit in the process of opening his beer.

“Thanks.”

Scout smiled. “No problem, pal. Plenty more under Demo’s mattress.”

“No, I mean…for that. I needed that tonight.”

“Oh…yeah! Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

Scout went back inside and to his room - but not before checking the cameras on the balcony a few times. Just in case.

Over the next few months, Scout kept helping Recruit break some old bad habits.

Recruit learned to take criticism without getting angry, to leave tanked missions, and to take care of himself.

He still occasionally flirted with Miss Pauling, but it was now more of an inside joke than anything.

Recruit still isn’t perfect - he still cringes a little when he’s healed, and falls back into survival mode when times are stressful - but he is now a much happier, much healthier person.

Spy:

Spy’s asshole wasn’t a merc, per se.

They were more of an informant, usually giving out important facts about locations, missions, and a target’s history.

Sometimes they would even use the Administrator’s PA system to announce new rules and reminders.

This would be perfectly fine - after all, you get kind of tired of hearing the Administrator all the time - except for the fact that Informant was the most sarcastic, most nasally, most apathetic, most matter-of-fact person on earth.

Even outside of a work setting, which was rare because they stayed in their office most of the time, Informant would go out of their way to be as condescending as possible.

Especially to whoever they considered to be in the “less intelligent” category: Heavy, Pyro, Scout, Demo, and Soldier.

To all the “others,” he turned every briefing into a contest to see who knew more at any given time…which, of course, usually meant he won.

“Now, does anyone know where his address is? Come on, any takers? Yeah, I thought so.”

Unlike Recruit, which would only warrant a few grumbles here and there from the team, Informant was the subject of a lot of hissed complaints and terrible rants from even the calmest of members.

Informant was the only one who could get under Heavy’s skin - a personal pet peeve of his was being considered less intelligent or less of a human being because English wasn’t his first language, which Informant chose to remind him of constantly.

It began with a few simple jabs at his grammar or word structure, but once Informant figured out that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly outside of battle, the taunts grew more and more daring.

Heavy would usually ignore Informant, which would only exacerbate their need to be noticed. This led to some pretty nasty interactions - from spouting the statistics of Russia’s average intelligence to even saying Heavy was a disgrace to his country by being a literature major.

“How’s that Russian literature major treating you? You know - in America.”

Sniper and Medic had tried to set Informant straight, but Heavy refused to accept any help. This was something that was his to bear, and his alone. He knew that they both took their own helping of harassment.

But one day, Informant went a little to far.

He did the one thing you should never do: insult Heavy’s family.

“You mother and sisters can’t do anything more than wait for you. No wonder you’re the only source of income.”

Before he knew it, Informant was against a wall, struggling to breathe, blood running into his eyes.

Heavy walked away after the incident, and told Medic about it, but he refused to heal him. Informant had called Medic a Nazi on more than one occasion.

This, finally, is where Spy comes in.

Spy was walking by Informant’s office, when he heard a strange sound - barely suppressed hiccups and sobs.

Despite his aversion to displays of emotion, the promise of seeing one of his greatest enemies as their lowest was too amusing to resist.

He knocked lightly on the door, then slowly opened it - always the master of drama.

Informant was under their desk, bloodied and bruised, sobbing into their knees.

Spy entered noiselessly, sitting in Informant’s office chair and lighting a cigarette.

It was only when Spy made a dramatic exhale of the smoke that Informant looked up, tears streaking their face.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Spy finally spoke.

“Oh, how the mighty fall. Flown too close to the sun, have we?”

Informant couldn’t do much more than snivel and retreat farther below the desk.

“Who did it?” Spy asked. “I want to give them my regards…and maybe a bottle of wine.”

“H-Heavy…”

“Oh? Well, if anyone can bring him to blows, it’s you.”

Spy put his feet on the desk and continued to blow smoke out of his nose, thinking.

“It’s strange,” he said. “Most offices have at least a few pictures of family. A trip to the beach, perhaps the zoo…?”

He took a quick glance around.

“No children. No army mates. No graduation photos or a large catch at a local lake. The only personal item you have is this…”

Spy picked up a Rubik’s Cube. The plastic still around it crinkled.

“Unused.”

Informant looked at the floor.

“I like to keep my personal and professional life separate.”

Spy pursed his lips and squinted.

“How noble of you. But I don’t think that’s the case. You know what I think, Informant?”

Spy took his feet of the desk and bent down, looking Informant in the eyes.

“I don’t think you have a life.”

Informant’s eyes went wide for a moment, then his face immediately crumpled. Bullseye.

Spy smirked and got up from the chair, starting to leave.

Informant’s sniffling turned into sobbing, and before Spy could put his hand on the doorknob, muffled wailing filled the office.

Spy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He was trying not to remember something. But the imagery was too strong.

He remembered hiding under a table, like Informant was. People screaming and cursing at each other in French. His knees all scarred and his nose runny from a cold that should have resolved weeks ago. Waltz music coming from next door, trying to drown out the fighting. Glass breaking. Biting his knuckles so he wouldn’t whimper or cry.

Spy’s hand closed into fist. He took a deep breath, and turned to face Informant again.

“But to be fair…”

He walked towards the desk, putting his hand in his suit pocket. He got on his knees and pulled out a pink handkerchief.

“…I don’t have one either.”

He offered the handkerchief to Informant, who put it to his face, still staring at Spy through red eyes.

The pair were silent for a moment, with Spy putting out his cigarette and lighting a new one while Informant cleaned themselves up.

“But the difference between you and I,” Spy said, his voice wavering a bit, “is that I am a Spy. If my information got into the wrong hands, it could be the end of me and my team.”

He tapped his cigarette on a nearby trash can, letting the ashes fall into it.

“But what are you hiding from?”

Informant took a shaky inhale, the handkerchief still covering his nose and mouth.

“W-what?”

“Why do you feel the need to be, as Scout puts it, a tier five jerkazoid?”

Informant sniffled. “I…I didn’t think I took it that far.”

“Took what that far?”

“I just…snrk…I thought that’s what I had to do to get them to take me seriously.”

Informant laughed, but their heart wasn’t in it.

“I’m five foot four with red hair and freckles. I look more like someone’s Andy doll than a contract killer. I thought maybe if I knew everything…I’d be worth it.”

They shrugged.

“At best, they’d be impressed. At worst, they would never get close enough to me to know the truth: the only reason why I’m here is because I can rattle off a few names and that I had good grades in school because I had nothing better to do.”

Spy’s chest ached. He didn’t know why, but it was a strange feeling to him.

“Mon ami…”

He cleared his throat.

“If half of the team is any indication, you don’t need to be Nikola Tesla to be hired. Hell, the fact you can read is an anomaly in itself. But there is something you must understand…”

Spy cleared his throat again. His voice had gotten quite unstable all of a sudden.

“Intelligence is measured in different ways. Scout could never read even the simplest of children’s books, but his physical intelligence - reflexes, spatial awareness, aim - is phenomenal. Medic would have to put my spine back together if I even attempted to do what he does on the field.”

Informant snickered at the joke, or perhaps the image it conjured.

“And me,” Spy continued. “I can speak almost any language, adjust to any social setting, charm anyone, fool anyone…kill anyone. Just like you, I can remember, and I use the information I absorb mostly to show how superior I am to all my lowly colleagues.”

Spy furrowed his brow and looked away.

“But I know less about myself than even my enemies. I have hidden it so deep within my mind that I can hardly remember…or perhaps would rather not remember…who I was before this mask of mine.”

Informant hesitated. “I…I’m sorry, Spy.”

Spy sneered and puffed a few smoke rings.

“I don’t want your sympathy. I want you to have some self-respect - and respect for my teammates. Because next time you are beaten within an inch of your life, you might catch me in a less generous mood.”

With that, Spy got up, reached into his suit pocket and presented a small MediKit, which he tossed to Informant.

“I’d suggest freshening up before going to any more briefings.”

Informant nodded, and set to work healing himself.

Spy started to leave, then stuck his head back in.

“And hang a few posters, would you? Your office looks like a prison cell.”

Finally, the Frenchman took his leave, adjusting his suit and nodding solemnly to the team members he happened to pass - or scowling at them, depending.

He glanced over the security feed, and once he was satisfied, made his way to his smoking room.

Spy closed the heavy oak door, poured himself a small glass of scotch, and sat down in his chair next to the fireplace.

He put a magazine on his knee and began to flip through the pages, but his gaze soon started to wander.

He closed the magazine, tossed it into the fire, leaned into his hand, and wept.

…So what became of Informant?

Well, after a reluctant heal from Medic and a few well-deserved apologies, Informant began to try and break the cycle of self-sabotage.

The process took a lot longer than Recruit’s did - especially since Informant’s transgressions were a lot more egregious - but, little by little, they began to heal.

A lot of the time, the other mercs would have to tell them to tone it down a bit, or to cut him off completely if necessary.

Informant still almost has a panic attack if he doesn’t have the right papers, and his office is still pretty bare, but he took Spy’s advice - a few AC/DC posters hang on the leftmost wall.

As for Spy, well…he needs to have a talk with Medic.

******************

I am so sorry…this is all so messy and weird. One is so much longer than the other, and I’m not even sure half the dialogue sounds right.

The two headcanons were just typed out at different times, the first where I had less motivation and the second when I had more motivation. This wasn’t on purpose, it just happened.

I hope you still like it, though!