#decent enough to satisfy others while i know inwardly that its really not good

[thelaststarfalling]

just once i'd like to complete one (1) bigger project that i can actually be proud of

[anashins]

Play Me Like Your Guitar

Title: Play Me Like Your Guitar

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: band!AU, romance, smut, a sprinkle of drama

Warnings: finger play, handjob, protected sex, FLUFF and teasing

Word Count: 6.197

Summary: In order to improve your guitar skills, you decide to take private lessons to get accepted into a newly formed band. But the first lesson does not go the way you have imagined at all.

Jaehyun had sex like he played the guitar - rhythmic, steady, precise, and with a proficiency that no one dared to doubt.

_______

You looked into the eyes of a boy around your age, his gaze reflecting as much surprise as your own expression must have given away after he had opened the door for you.

His dark brown hair was messily pushed back and he was wearing a pair of washed-out ripped jeans with a simple white v-necked t-shirt. A silver necklace was adorning his neck, trailing down to his revealed collarbones until the delicate string of chains ended behind his clothe's fabric where an oddly shaped pendant silhouetted against his shirt.

Your gaze wandered up again and you noticed that his expression had changed. He was grinning slyly at you, and where the door had only been slightly ajar before, it was now opened completely so that you could get a view of the apartment's interior behind him.

“Hi!” he greeted you joyfully. “Are you here for the guitar lesson? You’re very early.”

“Uhm… yes.” You took a short, but decent bow before starting an apology, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience with my early appearance. I just didn’t want to be late.”

You had never been to this part of the town before, and since it was your first lesson, you didn’t want to leave a bad impression at your tutor.

Actually, you had been very unsure whether to really come or not, but your ambition had driven you to take the opportunity and accept the offer of this guitar-playing student that was pinned on your college’s bulletin board, who was willing to teach advanced learners for an affordable amount of money.

When you had been going up the stairs of the apartment complex, it was anxiousness and insecurity that accompanied you, because the thoughts whether he was someone nice who taught with patience or someone who would scold you every time were keeping you up at night.

But your first impression of him was not bad at all. Absolutely not.

“No problem,” he assured you and made a welcoming gesture to invite you in his apartment. “I’m Jaehyun, your tutor.”

You nodded thankfully, introduced yourself as well and followed Jaehyun into his apartment, your huge bag with your acoustic guitar on your back. It was a neat flat, modernly furnished, and you seated yourself on the couch in the middle of the room as you put down your bag, just now perceiving the other acoustic guitar, hanging on the wall in the corner of the room.

“You’re also playing the acoustic guitar?” you asked curiously, and he nodded.

“Sometimes, but I’m more of an electric guitar player,” your tutor explained as he seated himself beside you.

As though he had broken the ice with this information, you shifted around to face him with your brightest smile. “So, you play in a band?”

“Yeah, occasionally,” he said casually.

“That’s awesome!” you returned. “I want to audition for a band next week. They are looking for a new guitarist and I’ve always wanted to join a group instead of playing only for myself. I saw a notice on the college’s bulletin board and just thought why not? I’ve been playing the guitar for 8 years already, though I’ve taken a hiatus for like a year and only laid a hand on it last week again. I’m not very sure whether my skills are up to par enough to be accepted since I think I’ve gotten quite rusty, which is why I want to take some lessons to improve myself.”

Jaehyun chuckled lightly as his lips tilted up to form a smirk, and for a moment, you thought that you might have overwhelmed him with too much information that didn’t interest him at all, luring out mockery.

“Cool,” he just answered and seemed to shrug it off instantly so that you almost felt regret for having talked to him so bluntly right away. He nodded in the direction of your guitar bag. “Want to show me what you're capable of?”

You nodded directly, slightly ashamed over your sudden outburst since he didn't seem so interested in it anyway, and reached out for your bag in front of your feet. Zipping it open, you pulled out your guitar, and with a certain carefulness, you placed it on your lap, grabbing the fingerboard with your left hand and holding the body with the other.

“I’ll quickly tune it up,” you explained.

Jaehyun nodded again, watching you fiddling with the neck of the guitar as you changed the positions of the tuning keys by turning them to get the right strains on the strings for the certain note. You plucked on each string a few times until the note sounded right in your ears and moved on to the next one until you were finished.

Satisfied, you turned aside to ask Jaehyun, “Shall I just start playing something randomly now or—“

But within a second, he had moved forward to take the same position as you. He wound his arms around each side of your body and grabbed on the guitar himself, his left hand over your own on the fingerboard and his right hand over yours on the guitar body, his chest pressed against your back and his face right beside yours as his voice whispered huskily, “This tone doesn’t sound quite right.”

You startled and your body stiffened as you felt him so close to you. Not daring to make a single move or to even take a short breath, you just sat there and perceived every little movement he did; how his fingers brushed over yours and plucked the strings, how his soft breath was always next to your ear, how his body leaned against yours, holding you in a half-embrace.

Unwillingly, your own body became weak, and it was undeniable due to the closeness of your tutor.

“I fixed it,” Jaehyun then declared firmly, pulling you out of your thoughts that had only revolved around him as he withdrew himself from you.

Feeling like if he had noticed your short absence as he grinned at you, you quickly turned your gaze away as you flushed a little and grabbed on your guitar a little firmer now that his hands on yours were gone.

You couldn’t deny the fact that the position in which you both had been before felt very pleasant, evoking feels in you that you had been missing out on for quite a time. And now that he had withdrawn himself, you actually felt like missing the embrace from before.

“Just quickly show me what you are capable of and we’ll figure out what you’re lacking in,” Jaehyun suggested and automatically, you nodded obediently.

Still overwhelmed by the act from before and a bit confused, you held your guitar rather awkwardly like you were unskilled, and as you plucked on the strings, the melody of the song you actually wanted to play sounded totally different from what you had in mind. It was like all the years of learning the instrument had been blown away, leaving you unskilled but with a mind full of something or better say someone else.

You weren’t with your thoughts by the act you actually needed to perform anymore, and it was all because of your tutor who was rather hot, you finally admitted to yourself.

Jaehyun chuckled light-heartedly and moved close to you again, looping his arms around you and pressing his body against to yours like before. And just like he had moved a lever with it, your heart suddenly started to pound faster, making a sudden hotness wash through your body that evoked a sizzling fire between you two.

His skin brushed over yours as he plucked the strings, his arms softly and rhythmically moving against yours, his face next to yours with his cheek almost touching your ear as he hummed the song he was playing.

“You need to pluck a little lighter,” he whispered, playing the same short melody over and over again.

But the melody couldn’t bother you less at that moment since you weren’t paying attention to the things he did to the guitar but rather the things he did with you.

You held your breath when he suddenly stopped, afraid that he would withdraw again like he had done before – but he didn’t. Instead, you perceived him shifting, and you instantly got goose bumps as you felt his lips brushing over your earlobe. The strength in your hands suddenly vanished and your body became utterly weak again. If Jaehyun hadn’t hold the guitar at that moment, it would’ve dropped on the ground, and truthfully you wouldn’t even care a bit.

“The strings are very sensitive which is why you don’t need to pluck so hard,” your tutor muttered, and every word that found its way into your ear made you melt away in his arms.

He was so close, and each move of his lips against your skin sent shivers down your spine.

“What are your sensitive spots?” he asked suddenly.

Although you couldn’t see his expression right now, you could swear that he was grinning while questioning you. Taken aback by this bold question, you didn’t know what to answer first, lowering your head and swallowing hard.

“That’s… not a part of the lesson,” you tried to fight, but inwardly you knew that, if he would truly make a move, you would lose.

“Well,” he started, not making a move to even slightly change his position, “you said you wanted to have lessons to improve yourself… but you didn’t say in what topic.”

“What—“

“I’m not only good in playing the guitar, you know,” he cut you off.

But before you could even get the chance to return something, you were interrupted again by Jaehyun tugging on your hair to tilt your head a bit. You let out a hearable gasp as he placed his mouth on the side of your neck and left a soft kiss right there.

Your grip around the guitar’s fingerboard became tighter when he began to suck harshly on your neck, even taking some skin between his teeth to nibble playfully on that spot. A ticklish, yet excited feeling spread through your limbs and filled you up to your last fiber, leaving you in disappointment as you felt him pulling his lips back.

“Number one found,” Jaehyun chuckled into your ear.

Before you could happen to think properly again, you opened your mouth to let out another gasp that got stuck in your throat and rendered you silent. He had wandered with his free hand under your shirt, slowly sliding his fingertips along your naked skin, and every inch that he moved over, made you shiver pleasantly.

He stopped at the area of your navel, rubbing circular patterns around that spot that made you chuckle slightly due to the ticklish feeling. Although he had the rough fingertips of a guitarist, you didn’t notice anything of this at all. His touches were soft and tender and utterly careful.

Satisfied with himself, Jaehyun stated, “Number two found.”

Within seconds, you found his lips placed on the side of your neck again while his hand was holding your body tightly against his, his palms still resting on your naked tummy under your shirt. He sucked on your sensitive spot but didn’t concentrate on there only. He kissed upwards, soft lips caressing your skin as you bent your head aside to give him more space.

You fluttered your lids, trying to gather serious thoughts as you muttered, “But the guitar le—“

“Right,” Jaehyun returned instantly, withdrew his hand that had kept you close to him and grabbed the guitar to place it carefully on the table.

He turned around and kneeled in front of you as he held on either side of your thighs to move you closer to him. He spread your legs and seated himself on the ground between them, letting his palms rest on your thighs, only the thin fabric of your pants hindering you from meeting skin on skin.

“I mean the lesson—“ You tried again.

But he reached out his hands and held on each side of your face as he pulled you down to him, your faces so close to each other that only an inch prevented your lips from meeting one another. Your eyes reflected insecurity, confusion, but also excitement and anticipation.

“Your body is telling me that you want me to help you improve in other topics.”

And with that, Jaehyun pulled you in for a kiss.

It was a rather chaste and less demanding kiss in the beginning, one that was testing the waters as he massaged your lips as softly as he had done on your neck before, experimenting how far he could go first. You were hesitant as well, returning his kisses with slight, almost unnoticeable movements.

But it was not too long before you reached out your hands to grab on his shoulders for hold before you opened your lips fully, giving him consent to continue and deepen the kiss. You could feel him smiling as he pulled you so close that your chests almost touched.

His tongue smoothly rolled with yours before he licked over your lower lip, nibbling on the flesh and heating you up even more like that before pushing his tongue back into you. Faster than you thought, you got carried away with the kiss, as it was one of the kind that you had never experienced that intensely before.

So you didn’t notice how Jaehyun had hooked your ankles around his waist and lifted you off the couch with both his hands carrying your body by holding onto your bum.

Within the next moment, he had placed you onto his bed after removing your shirt and pants, leaving you only in your underwear as he positioned himself on top of you. You watched in awe how he got rid of his shirt, grabbing onto the hem of the clothing to pull it over his head in one swift movement, leaving his hair in such a sexy mess that you couldn’t turn your gaze away from him.

Jaehyun smirked sexily, obviously aware of the effect he had on you. When he bent down to you, you reached out and entwined your fingers around the pendant of his necklace, pulling him closer to you to capture his lips.

As he returned the kiss passionately, you traced your fingers along his chest, running your fingertips down his naked skin. Under your touch, you could feel him shiver slightly, making your realize that he felt exactly the same that you did when he touched your own body; excitement, anticipation, but also a hint of insecurity.

With a quick movement, you made you both change your positions so that you were sitting on Jaehyun's lap now, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you fiddled with the zipper of his jeans. His erection was already straining against his pants. Your tutor let out a mischievous laughter as you threw a curious gaze at him, slightly taken aback and insecure whether you were doing the right thing.

But he only said, “Doesn’t look like that I need to teach you anymore.”

Jaehyun was obviously surprised, but satisfied with what you were doing. Grinning back at him, you pulled his pants down his thighs, revealing a huge visible tent that was kept hidden underneath the thick fabric. You tugged on the hem of his boxers, freeing his cock that instantly slapped back on his stomach.

“Touch me,” Jaehyun pleaded, and where you had watched his boner in awe before, he had pulled you out of your thoughts now and you nodded, willing to fulfill him this wish.

Tenderly, you grabbed hold of his cock on the base and slowly moved your hand along his length all the way up. You heard a relieved sigh and as you lifted your head to look at Jaehyun, he had his head rolled back while an arm was put over his forehead, covering half of his face.

By the time you’ve reach his tip, brushing with your thumb over the sensitive spot, a low groan came out of his mouth, and you perceived him gritting his teeth, then biting on his lower lip as he stretched out his arms, but kept his eyes shut close.

Somehow, it made you really proud of what you were able to do with him, so you took it a little further. You continued sliding your hand up and down his length while the other hand massaged the area around his base. In the beginning, your pace was rather slow and soft, but as Jaehyun let out a long-lasting moan and an even louder “Fuck!” you decided to tease him even a little more.

You increased your pace, sliding up and down rhythmically, fast and steady, feeling him growing even more under your palms, if that was possible.

It was only moments later when the first drops of his precum was built on his tip that you took the opportunity to lower your head and deliciously let your tongue lick over his head to sip it all up. But as you parted your lips to take him into your mouth fully, Jaehyun had already flipped you over and pinned you against the mattress with his entire weight, making it impossible for you to move anymore.

“Enough,” he breathed, sweat glistening on his forehead as he hovered over you. “It’s my turn. I am the tutor.”

He lifted your body up a bit by reaching with both of his hands under your back to unhook your bra which he then took off and tossed on the ground. He touched your left breast, first on the top slope before he lifted his hand and only run the fingertips across the mound. You mewled quietly to his touches, your nipples hardening as Jaehyun rolled his fingers around your sensitive spot.

“Another one found,” he muttered, a smile forming on his lips as his warm hand closed around your breast.

It was fully hefted into his palms before he brought up his free hand and did the same to the other breast. Placing himself fully between your legs, you felt his hard-on twitching between your thighs, only the thin fabric of your lace panties keeping your intimate parts from finding each other.

Your own body started to twitch under his as Jaehyun lowered his head and licked with his tongue over your left breast, leaving a path of saliva and making you cry out louder than you had intended. Slyly grinning, he blew over that spot, causing your curved skin to form goose bumps due to the coldness of his liquid. Bending further, he embraced your nipple with his soft lips and sucked on it harshly, but carefully as your hands found their ways to his head to look for a grip by burying your fingers in his silky hair.

Jaehyun showed a certain proficiency as he played with your breasts, kissing around the nub that he had made sensitive and placing tender kisses around the area before he got back to teasing you again, even biting slightly into it which made you cry out once more. Not because of the pain though, but because you were craving for more and for him to finally go further.

Your pink tips shuddered under his touches, but when you threw your head back to glory his mouth play a bit more, it was something else that made you shriek.

Jaehyun had bucked his hips purposely so that his revealed boner was now sliding across your still hidden core, and where you had been only wet before, you were dripping now.

“Let’s see whether this is a sensitive spot too.”

“What?!”

Your eyes widened in question, but Jaehyun said nothing. He laid himself fully on top of you, his chest on your chest, the cold metal of his necklace touching your still heated skin as he shifted his position and fixated his weight on only one side of his body. Nonetheless he managed to pull you in for a kiss which didn’t last long because you broke it instantly and breathed for air.

“Yes, there too,” Jaehyun said confidently when your entire body flinched as his thumb pressed on your clit, massaging it in circular motions.

You threw your head back, your body arched and you dug your nails into his shoulders as pleasant shudders ran down your spine right to your toes while he worked magic on your body, playing with it precisely.

Instinctively, you brought your legs together as your tutor dragged his middle finger along your covered folds, your next moan getting swallowed in his mouth as he wandered upwards again, repeating this movement a few times until you were dripping in his hand and your panties soaking.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded and you reacted obediently, although it was very hard to do so when he was still playing with you around there.

You threw your head aside, your upper body lifting off the mattress as your back arched. Jaehyun had pushed two fingers into you, and just as your thighs wanted to react like before, squeezing shut, he now rested one arm on your inner leg, keeping your limbs separated that way.

He worked slowly in the beginning, sliding in and out lewdly, teasing you and smiling over every moan that fell from your lips, but as he increased his pace, pumping in and out of you with a certain force on the right spots, your legs began to flinch uncontrollably under his, announcing the upcoming release to which he drove you further with his finger play.

Then, Jaehyun withdrew his fingers and sat up, leaving your core still twitching hotly, missing his touches already. His hair was messier than before due to your own fingers running through his curls and as he looked up, throwing a gaze at you, you couldn’t help but to smile at each other.

Jaehyun then raised his finger, licking the juice all up, and you actually happened to think that this was the sexiest scene you had ever seen. The look he threw at you was filled with lust and anticipation for the upcoming act, but also with a certain kindness and esteem towards you.

He had worked on your body like a guitar, playing the sensitive strings with precision, but deliberately and gently, exactly knowing where to work to lure out the best sounds of you. His finger play was the work of a very experienced guitar player, his fingertips rough, but he still knew how to use them to make you feel good.

He made you the instrument while he was the player, turning you completely obedient to each of his motions.

Jaehyun then bent his head and peppered butterfly kisses in between your breasts, tracing them downwards along your stomach, then to your navel, your groin, and even further till he reached the hem of your panties. Seating himself up again, he took your legs and laid them over his shoulder, tugging on your panties that he then slid off your legs and tossed it, with the rest of his own clothes, to the ground. Reaching over you, he opened the drawer of his nightstand and took out a condom that he unpacked and rolled over his erection.

Jaehyun placed himself back on top of you, his cock twitching between your inner thighs in anticipation as you could already feel his tip at your entrance. You two kept close eye contact as he pushed himself into you, not too fast, but slowly and carefully since he didn’t know how he would fit into you yet. Studying every change your expression made, he watched you sighing in relief when he glided in, the reaction assuring him that you were okay.

He stretched you with every inch he plunged in, making you dig your nails deeper into his back. As he eased himself in you, you perceived how good the way he filled you up felt, making you feel completed. Your bodies just matched perfectly.

You bucked your hips impatiently, catching your tutor off guard for a moment by sending pleasure down his body and making him lose his control for a short time. But after he had found his position again, leaning over you, he let out a short laughter as if he surely wanted to take this competition.

Jaehyun's arms were propped on either side of your head on the pillow as he began to move. And this time, he didn’t start slowly like all of his acts before, and you thanked him for this inwardly since he had heated up the both of you with his promising foreplay already.

Jaehyun had sex like he played the guitar - rhythmic, steady, precise, and with a proficiency that no one dared to doubt.

He thrusted into you with a certain force, but never too harsh to make you cry out in pain or too fast to hinder you from enjoying it. He plunged in and out of you, his hips steadily grinding against yours. You met his pace by moving your own hips with his rhythm, increasing the sensation that was built between the both of you in your connected parts.

He had moved an arm under your back, lifting up your body a bit while you had rolled your head back, revealing your sensitive neck area that Jaehyun was now caressing with kisses as he dipped his head, planting passionate smooches and every now and then soft pecks onto your skin.

Every time Jaehyun slid out and needed too long for your impatient body to push back in, you unknowingly scratched his back, crying out his name, wanting even more, and by the third time, he came to know your cravings all to well and do this on purpose just to have you call out his name over and over again “Jaehyun… Jaehyun… Jaehyun…!!”

He took his other hand to reach down to your thigh and wound your leg around his waist, bringing your sweaty bodies together, his chest brushing against your breasts, every movement luring a mewl out of your mouth while his hot breath was close to your ear, his breathing pace increasing as each thrust passed. He plunged in and out, your body becoming an entangled mess, your lips craving for more kisses and your skin craving for more touches.

Jaehyun's chest parted from yours as he brought his upper body up to grab on the headboard, ready for the climax. You studied in amazement how his majestic chest, covered in glistening sweat, rose in front of your sight, how he increased his pace and closed his eyes, and you took all of his rough poundings as he lowered his head and released a loud groan that was followed by a few quieter ones, shudders running down his spine as he released himself into you.

Against your expectations, he didn’t let go of you yet. He wanted you to come now as well. Within the next second, he had lifted you off the mattress, causing you to let out a surprised “Ah!” and had you placed on his lap in a seating position as he held your body firmly against his.

You looped your arms around his neck and dipped your head, resting your forehead on his shoulder as he thrusted upwards, more forceful than he had done before, but the effect was incredible. Your moans got muffled in the crook of his neck as your body bounced on his thighs steadily. He held onto your hips to keep them down as he rotated his own in circular motions, purposely focused on stimulating your clit by grinding against you, and as he began thrusting again, you came as well with one hard jolt of his that was followed by several other ones while he let you ride it out.

And as you did come in shudders that sent spasms down to your body, with your head thrown back, with your hands holding onto Jaehyun's shoulders, with your legs wounded around his waist and with Jaehyun embracing your body to not let you fall over, you let out the tone that was the most pleasant one in his ears – the one of you calling out his name: “Jaehyun…”

--

You were still naked in bed as Jaehyun came back with his guitar and seated himself beside you. You wrapped the blanket around your body and brought your legs close to your chest to rest your chin on your knees and listened to him playing. You had your eyes closed in the beginning, listening to the wonderful melodies he created with the instrument, absorbing every note of it, trying to remember and memorize every single accord and tone.

You were carried away by the magic of the moment and truthfully, you didn’t want him to ever stop playing again.

Peeking through strands of your hair, you secretly caught a glimpse at him and your heart started to flutter when you saw him sitting there, half-naked and utterly sexy, his messy hair now down and framing his face; his expression was concentrating, his gaze fixated on the guitar, yet he had time to quickly look up and return your soft expression.

Flushing, you lowered your gaze again as your heart throbbed fast against your chest, but it wasn’t quick enough to not have perceived the smile that he was flashing at you and in secrecy, you smiled back.

As he was finished with the song, Jaehyun put the guitar aside and shifted his sight at you, the kind smile still lingering around his lips.

“Too bad that we couldn’t come to the lesson anymore,” he said, but you both started to chuckle simultaneously because the sentence was filled with pure sarcasm to which the truth you both couldn’t deny.

“So… Your time is still not over,” he grinned slyly and moved towards you, his hands on your waist as he approached you. “How about some extra lessons then?”

You welcomed him happily with an open-mouthed kiss as he gently pushed you back onto the mattress, placing your head on the pillow and himself between your legs. As he seated himself up to remove his boxers for the next round, you saw it.

You saw it clearly and you didn’t know why you hadn't noticed it before. The oddly shaped pendant on his necklace was not some sort of a cryptic modern jewelry that one could not exactly define. It was a letter in capitals.

The letter “T”.

Within a moment that didn’t even last a single second, your view on this whole situation changed as the world, in which you had been living in the past hour, broke down.

You didn’t know why you had let yourself lure into this situation in the first place. Perhaps, it was his charm, the magic of the moment or your own craving for physical attention. And even if it was all three of them, it wouldn’t explain why the news now hurt so much since feelings weren’t involved in the first place anyways.

But the thought that Jaehyun had most likely a girlfriend, a girl so precious that he was always wearing her around his neck, just shattered you for reasons you couldn’t exactly define. And by the time he had perceived your changed mien, you realized that it utterly bothered you that it wasn’t your name he was wearing on his necklace after you had shared such a beautiful moment.

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asked worriedly, his expression as lost as yours.

You pushed him from top of you and moved to the side of the bed to collect your clothes.

“I need to go,” you quickly said, trying to sound as normal and strong as you could.

At first, it seemed like Jaehyun let you go willingly, but after you were fully dressed and wanted to leave his room, he grabbed for your wrist and made you stay.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated again, demanding an answer.

But you didn’t want him to triumph over another trophy by turning around and let yourself get humiliated.

So you just freed your arm with one fast jolt and left the apartment as fast as possible. You didn’t even waste time by putting your guitar back in the bag as you just grabbed each item and left the apartment before Jaehyun could even catch up on you.

By the time he had reached the living room, he just perceived the noise of the door falling shut, and when opened it again to call out for your name, you were already running down the stairs as fast as you could, sudden tears blocking your view which you frantically blinked away.

You didn’t stop running until a few blocks down the street, exhausted, tired and your heart so sad that you could barely breathe.

--

When you pulled open the door to the rehearsal room, you were actually surprised that there weren't many people auditioning as well. To be exact: There was no other person aside from you.

You pulled out the paper from the bulletin board with the date and time of the audition, but except for the fact that you were early as always, they were absolutely correct. Insecurely, you stepped in and closed the door behind you.

Immediately, a boy around your age came towards you, greeting you happily with a decent bow. “Hello, are you y/n?”

You nodded, surprised over his sudden happiness to see you. “Yes. Am I right here for the audition? Because I don’t see anyone else.”

“That’s because there won’t be anyone else,” he announced with a smile. “You’re our new member.”

“What?” Your eyes widened in surprise, unsure of whether you had heard right, and that was why the guy repeated,

“You’re our new guitarist. Congratulations!”

“What about the audition? The other applicants?”

“They’ve gotten rejected by our leader beforehand already,” he explained.

“Seriously? Why?”

“Because I said so.”

The voice that cut off your conversation was coming from another direction and oddly, it seemed very familiar.

As you turned around, you were facing a boy standing beside other two, a boy that you had been trying so hard to forget during the past days, but had never entirely succeeded in doing so.

And as your gaze fell on the pendant of his necklace again, everything fell together, relief and realization hitting you. Suddenly, you felt so much longing for him that you just wanted to run towards him and let him take you into his arms.

Like he had heard your thoughts, Jaehyun approached you and put an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him and placing a fond kiss on your temple.

“She’s mine,” he announced to his three fellow band mates, “so don’t you dare laying a hand on her, right?”

A moment later, after a playful quarrel between the boys and the introduction of each of you, you were seated in front of the small stage in their rehearsal room, Jaehyun standing in front of you, playing the guitar and singing, the guy who had greeted you was on the drums, another played the bass and the last one was on the keyboard. In order to get to know them more as a band and their music since you would join them as their new guitarist, they had deiced to give you a private concert.

Although you were trying to memorize and enjoy the songs, your eyes were almost always with Jaehyun.

Neither of you held yourselves back to hide the affection between you both with longing gazes that had only gotten more intensive during your time of separation. Jaehyun's slender body moved slowly and rhythmically to the music, his electric guitar always firmly in his hands as he shook his head to each tone he was playing, his hair messily swirling around.

But what specifically caught your attention today was his voice as he sang. You hadn't known that he was the lead singer as well which was another reason why you were especially drawn to him now. He had a rather deep singing voice, yet a very smooth and soft one which never got shaky regardless of the notes he needed to hit.

Jaehyun held onto the microphone as he stopped playing every now and then to concentrate on the singing, closing his eyes to hit the right notes, and every time he opened them, you were the first thing he looked at.

You knew that there were many things you needed to talk over.

First of all, you owed him an apology, but you also knew that there was much time left for you both. Now that you were playing in the same band, you’d spend more time together - time that would be filled with lessons in the rehearsal room.

Real guitar lessons in his living room, improvised guitar lessons in between the sheets and promising dates to get to know each other more.

Because T actually stood for the name of his band, but T could also stand for Together.

[inliar]

timing

word count: 5.3k

jinhwan x reader

you have the uncanny knack of running into kim jinhwan exactly when he needs it. he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued.

a/n: support ikon on kingdom!

-

the first time you meet him, it’s at your friend’s debut stage. once upon a time, you and your friend, yerin, had been trainees together in a decently small company. but while her skills only grew over time, morphing into something fascinating and breathtaking that deserved to be shown to the world, yours had stagnated. it wasn’t for lack of effort – you had put just as many hours into dance and vocal lessons as the others –  but it was, probably, for lack of passion.

at some point, you had stopped emphasizing with your fellow trainee’s heartfelt speeches on their dreams of debuting, and it was around then that you realized you weren’t meant to be an idol in the same way they were. it was alright, though, because if anyone out of the two of you deserved to debut, it was her. you’d never felt any regret after terminating your short trainee agreement with your label.

but your friendship had never ceased, and you’d kept in regular contact with yerin, as well as the other trainees set to debut in the rookie group. you often took to reminding them to eat their meals, or to take breaks in between lessons, because you’d experienced first-hand how thoroughly unchecked passions can blind a person to their obvious needs. 

finally, their efforts had culminated into a debut, and you wouldn’t miss their first stage for the world. their manager, minseo (who, in a different timeline, might have been your manager as well) was kind enough to let you visit them face-to-face in their waiting room for the music program.

“nervous?” you ask, taking in yerin’s brightly-coloured romper and her bleached, curled, strands of hair. it’s such a far departure from the tracksuits and messy ponytail you’d often seen her sporting during early morning dance practices, but it somehow suits her better than anything else you’d ever seen her wear.

“excited.” she responds instead, with a frightening degree of certainty. it must be nice, you think, to have something you want so desperately and unfalteringly. but watching your best friend get to live out her dreams is almost just as nice.

you nod, feeling the corners of your lips quirk up. “have i ever told you how proud i am of you?” you say, lightheartedly, suppressing the urge to ruffle your hand over her well-styled hair.

“no, but since it’s coming from you, i know you mean it.” she says with such sincerity that you feel an unexpected surge of pride lodge itself into your chest. 

you clear your throat. this won’t do. she hasn’t even performed yet and you’re already turning into a sentimental mess. “i’m going to go get myself something to drink,” you say, excusing yourself. “do you want anything?”

her eyes brighten. “ooh, can i have an orange soda?” she asks, before pausing and turning around. “wait, manager-nim, am i allowed to drink soda before a stage?”

minseo tears her eyes away from her phone and straightens up. “as long as it’s not something that will rapidly stain your teeth, it should be fine. are you thirsty? do you need me to get you something?”

you pipe up. “oh, it’s fine, i can get it. you should stay with the group, unni, you’re the manager.” then, you raise your voice and direct it towards the rest of the girls. “hey, guys, i’m getting yerin a drink from the vending machine. does anyone else want anything?”

“oh, can i have a canned coffee?” you hear one of the members – jiyoung’s – voice ask.

“me too!” hyemin’s voice adds.

“vitamin water, please!” mirae’s voice calls.

you tally the drinks up in your head. two canned coffees, an orange soda, and vitamin water. you hold up an ‘okay’ sign with your hand and nod. jiyoung jokingly salutes in return.

“can i pay you back?” minseo offers, pulling out a credit card that most definitely won’t work on the rickety vending machines you’d seen on your way to the waiting room.

you shake your head dismissively. “it’s just a couple of drinks, and besides, i have a ton of coins i need to get rid of. you can buy me a meal later, yeah?” you offer, and minseo nods. “at this rate, i’ll have to hire you as my assistant.” she jokes, lightheartedly, and you smile. you wouldn’t mind that at all.

you recite the list of drinks to yourself as you make it out of their waiting room and towards the vending machine. two canned coffees, an orange soda, and vitamin water. two canned coffees, an orange soda, and vitamin water. two ca—

thud.

the small sound shakes you out of your mantra and, instinctively, you turn towards the noise. judging by the obvious frustration radiating from the person in front of you and his relative position to the vending machine, you figure he just kicked the poor thing.

“are you alright?” you ask, tentatively, and the person in question turns to face you. 

oh. it’s kim jinhwan. from ikon.

you try your hardest to suppress a smile. yerin loves ikon. she’d be so jealous to know that you ran into one of the members today, and in such an innocuous way at that.

“yes, sorry.” jinhwan offers, looking almost sheepish. “the machine stole my money, and-”

almost on cue, you hear a voice call out in the distance. “hurry up, hyung! you said it’d only take a few minutes!”

jinhwan’s expression instantly sours, and you nod in understanding. “what did you try to get, sunbaenim?” you ask politely, turning towards the machine and scanning its contents.

“just an energy drink. but i guess i’ll be fine without it.” he explains, trying a little too hard to sound lighthearted and unbothered. 

you identify the drink in question and punch in its code. after feeding your coins into the machine, you watch as the suddenly functional appliance pushes the energy drink out of its row and into the bottom of the machine.

squatting, you grab the drink and hold it out. “please, take this.” you offer as you stand up, suddenly noticing how heavily the foundation under his eyes is applied. you inwardly frown. he must really need the boost. “it’s the one you wanted, right?”

he doesn’t take it, instead opting to stare at it instead. “i couldn’t, i don’t have any more change on me right now.” he says, despite eyeing the drink longingly.

“hyung! we have to go!” the voice from before calls out again, insistently. he turns towards the voice before turning back to you, conflicted. you put on what you hope is a reassuring smile before pushing the drink with a little more force into his hands. instinctively, he takes it.

“please don’t worry about it, it’s just a drink. good luck with your stage, sunbaenim!” you cheer, gently. 

he looks at the drink, then looks at you, then glances behind him at what you presume to be his waiting room before looking at you again.

“jinhwan hyung!” the voice demands with an intimidating undercurrent of finality, leaving no more room to stall. you tilt your head towards it meaningfully.

“i.. thank you.” he finally says, tightly, before turning around and running away. satisfied, you turn towards the vending machine. what did your friends ask for? right, two canned coffees, an orange soda, and vitamin water. you punch the drink codes in, methodically inserting all of your loose change you had been trying to get rid of for so long, and add an extra coffee in for minseo for good measure. if she’s going to make good on her dinner promise, and you know she will, she should get a little something in return.

(you would have gotten her something even if you didn't coerce her into buying you food. a part of you thrives at the feeling of taking care of others, and you dimly wonder if that means anything.)

-

the next time you meet him is yet another case of being in the right place at the right time, for lack of a better phrase. 

you’d spent a good portion of your school days active as a trainee. so, when you’d eventually exited the entertainment industry, you were strikingly behind all the other students your age in the cruelly competitive system that was korea’s education system. you were planning on taking a gap year to figure out exactly what you wanted to do with the rest of your life (which was generally frowned upon, as students were expected to naturally know these things), but minseo had saved you from that fate. “since the girls have been getting a little bigger recently, i’ve been given the permission and the budget to hire an assistant manager.” she had explained through a spontaneous phone call, her voice crackling over the receiver as you shifted your cellphone to your other ear. “if i can trust anyone to care for them the way that i do, it’s you.”

“will it be okay?” you had asked, not against the proposition but not wanting to get her in trouble. “i have no managerial experience, and i’m in the same age range as the members. i don’t want the company to come off as unprofessional.”

she had reassured you that you wouldn’t be working on anything that she wouldn’t teach you to do first, and that, as long as you didn’t boast about your age, it would be fine. “i was allowed to write the hiring criteria, and if you just happen to be the perfect candidate, then so be it.” she had said, and you could almost imagine the conspiratorial wink she would have shot in your direction if you were talking face to face.

and so your reentrance to the entertainment industry had begun; except this time, you were on the other, more secluded, side of the stage. you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t considered being a manager before; you’ve always been the type to take care of others, and when minseo had joked about taking you on as an assistant before, a secret part of you had taken it a little too close to heart. but you had never actually expected her words to become a reality.

the job isn’t too hard to pick up. you’re assigned a lot of small yet useful tasks, like calling the salons and confirming hair appointment times, or writing the minutes for meetings about comeback concepts. sometimes, your only role for the day is simply coaxing minseo unni into stopping and taking a lunch break. you’re busy, for sure, but not yet at the juggling-octopus level of the senior manager, who is somehow able to coordinate every other task and responsibility that involves the group simultaneously and all without fail. while you just have to confirm the things she’s already set up, she has to do all the preparation work.  you’ve seen her meticulously arrange and assign each member’s schedules, all the while keeping an eye on album sales and concert venues and security payroll and feedback from their vocal or dance instructors. just by looking at her essay of a to-do list that’s propped up on her desk, you understand why the company gave her the permission to hire an assistant.

the most important responsibility she had given you, however, was to be the first line of contact with the members of the group. “you know them better than i do, so i think you’d do a better job of helping them out. they’re not too fussy, so it shouldn’t be too hard to work with them? just keep an eye on the members, and check on them every now and then. of course, let me know if you need any extra help.” a very harried minseo had told you, while on hold with the videography company who, annoyingly, hadn’t confirmed what time they were coming in tomorrow to film the dance video for the group’s upcoming comeback.

“yes, of course.” you had replied, fully intending to not do just that. you were going to avoid adding any responsibilities to minseo unni’s workload at all costs.

there wasn’t much that you needed to do. occasionally, you needed to get the members drinks or snacks while they were in their waiting rooms before music show performances, or make sure that they checked in with you before they went out anywhere. to help with this, you had gotten into the habit of carrying a backpack with you at all times, fully stocked with the necessities: an assortment of the member’s favourite snacks, an epipen for hyemin’s peanut allergy tucked in a small first aid kit, extra hair elastics, pads and tampons, and various sets of phone chargers. 

“you’re already, like, one of those overprepared asian mothers that carries everything in her massive purse, and you’re barely an adult.” yerin had snickered one day while you reorganized your bag in their dorm.

you had grinned, teasingly pushing her away. “it’s this overprepared asian mother that has your precious pocky at hand, so watch it.” you’d warned, shaking the snack box in the air. 

“don’t shake it!” yerin had yelped, cradling the cookie sticks protectively against her chest. “you’ll break them.”

it was the last week of promotions for the group’s third mini album, and you had just finished supervising the stage hands as they finished setting up the stage. satisfied, you grab your backpack from the chair it was lounging on, thank them for their hard work, and beeline for the exit, wondering if you can run into the girls before they get called down for their pre-stage interview.

“—ust going to have to wait, we don’t have any on hand right now.” you hear a gruff sounding voice say, and subconsciously, you look towards the source of the noise.

just across the hallway from you is what appears to be a very tall manager and a very short idol, judging from the casual apparel the taller is wearing and the shiny, glittery jacket the shorter one has on. the one in the glittery jacket is clutching at his shoulder in obvious discomfort. 

“how long do you think it will take?” the shorter asks, letting go of his shoulder and rolling it back, and you’d recognize that voice anywhere. yerin had recently been studying his stage habits by watching his fancams on repeat, and at this point, his voice was engraved in the back of your mind. it’s jinhwan, again. (“i can’t believe you got to meet jinhwan sunbae before i did,” yerin had pouted when you had told her about your previous encounter. “but why did you call him sunbae? he’s not technically your senior anymore.”

“so i used to be a trainee, and old habits die hard. sue me.” you had defended yourself, protectively, before making a mental note to stop doing that.)

“i’m not sure. i’m not supposed to leave the shooting site, and no one else has answered my calls yet. do you think you’ll be able to do the stage without a patch?” the manager asks.

the idol who you now recognize as jinhwan winces, and you take that as your cue to dig through your bag. after finding what you’re looking for, you take a nervous breath and walk towards the pair.

“hello,” you greet tentatively, bowing. the two of them turn to face you, and politely bow back. you don’t miss the way jinhwan’s face grimaces ever so slightly as he does so.

“i’m really sorry if i’m being invasive, but i happened to hear what was going on.” you start. at that, you offer him the pair of pain-relief patches you were clutching securely with both of your hands. “please, take these.”

the two of them pause, taking a second to read the upside-down text on the packaging. in hindsight, you probably should have held it so the text was facing them. “won’t you need them?” the manager asks, eventually looking back up at you.

you shake your head in denial, eyes wide. “no, no. i always have extras in my bag. besides, the ones my members use most often are the ankle patches, so i won’t miss these.” you explain, taking a short, meaningful glance at jinhwan’s shoulder before pushing the packages into his manager’s hands. 

he takes them. “thank you,” he says, gratefully, and you smile. 

“yes, of course.” you reply, taking another quick glance at jinhwan. he’s staring at you, expression carefully blank, but, upon making eye contact. he bows his head. “thank you,” he says as well, and you pause. there’s something in his tone that sounds off, but you can’t quite pinpoint what it is. 

you don’t have time to stand there and think about it, though, because your group is going to get called down for their interview any minute now. and while you don’t technically have to be there, minseo said that it would be a good idea for you to monitor them. “just so you can get used to your job,” she had said, and you agreed. it would be entirely selfish to back out on that now, just to stand and meaninglessly analyze a person you had no connections with.

“i … have to go now.” you begin, tentatively, ignoring the pressing feeling in the pit of your stomach thats begging you to stay and figure out what feels so wrong. “good luck on your stage, sunb- i mean! jinhwan-ssi, and i hope your shoulder feels better.”

you bow, reflexively, trying your best not to make a weird face out of embarrassment, and jinhwan bows back. “thank you, again.” he reiterates, and you turn to leave.

it’s only after you’re absolutely sure that you’re out of their line of view before you let yourself cringe. sunbae? you tried to call him sunbae? you really, really, need to get out of that habit. what kind of interaction was that?

‘but is he okay?’ a smaller, more insistent, voice in the back of your head asks, and you frown. you don’t know. 

- 

in between your last memorable encounter and the next one, you see him a few times. your group passes by him in a few music programs, you run into their group at a hair appointment, and a few other miscellaneous encounters as such naturally occur. but you never interact. as a manager, it’s not your job to play buddy-buddy with other idol groups, especially if they’re not even in your company. you’ve always done a very good job of staying out of the spotlight, and, as a manager, most people don’t spare you a glance. jinhwan doesn’t even look in your direction.

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed.

the third time you meet him is not, for once, at a music program. you’re in hapjeong-dong, meaning to visit a friend who’d recently moved into the area. but she’d last-minute changed her housewarming party time to a dinner party instead of a lunch meetup. by the time you’d got the memo, you were already halfway across seoul on the subway. since you hadn’t eaten anything yet, and you no longer had lunch plans, your first stop is at the first ramen shop you see after you exit the terminal.

“i’m afraid we’re a little full at the moment, ma’am, and the only seats available are at the counter. will that be alright?” the hostess asks, smiling warmly.

“yes, that’s great.” you say, and you let her escort you to the counter and hand you a menu. you prop up your purse and your housewarming gift on the chair next to you before taking it, thanking her.

as you’re flipping through the menu, mentally calculating how much more you’ll be able to spend this month, you hear the tinkling of the bell at the front door signalling another customer. a cursory glance around the relatively full counter area lets you know that there’s only one seat left, and you’re hogging it with your bags. you quickly take them off the only available chair and bend down to set them on the ground below your feet.

“... and here you go, sir, i’ll be back with a menu shortly.” the bubbly hostess says, smiling politely at the customer whose face you haven’t seen yet. you straighten up, taking a quick look at the hostess and the customer before turning back to look at your menu. 

“yes, thank you,” the customer says, and you freeze. you must be hearing things. there is no way that you are eating lunch next to kim jinhwan in a random restaurant.

the customer sits down next to you, and you shoot another quick look at the man who is taking off his mask. who is most definitely kim jinhwan. 

do you … do you say anything? idols deserve to eat in peace, so should you pretend not to recognize him? but won’t sitting in a stony, awkward silence as you eat next to each other be even worse? you contemplate burying yourself in your phone for the entire meal, before realizing that you left it in your purse. and there’s no feasible way that you can grab it without having to scoot back your chair, get off the stool to open your bag, and sit back up on it again. 

unfortunately for you, he looks in your direction as you’re gaping at him, panic-struck. the resulting eye contact is unbearably awkward on your end, but he looks at you as if he’s trying to remember who you are.

“pardon me, but are you the one who … with the pain-relief patch?” he asks, gesturing slightly with his hands as he sits dodwn. it’s vague and awkward, and if he did that to anyone else they’d be very confused, but you know exactly what he means.

you blush a little. there’s nothing else you can say now. “yes, uh, i think that was me.” 

“and … the vending machine?” he ventures.

your eyes widen a little at that. that was so many months ago. he still remembers? “the energy drink, right? that was also me. hello, jinhwan-ssi.” you offer, tentatively, bowing your head slightly. at this point, there’s no use pretending you don’t know his name. he bows his head in return.

“may i ask for your name?” jinhwan asks, tentatively.

“oh, ah, i’m ______.” you respond. “it’s nice to meet you, officially.” 

jinhwan nods in agreement, seemingly taking in all the new information for a few seconds. after a short pause, he continues. “do you also work in the entertainment industry?” he asks, slowly. 

“yes, i’m an assistant manager for kyubie, a new girlgroup at AB entertainment,” you introduce yourself. it still feels a little strange to say that title out loud. assistant manager. you’re an assistant manager.

“ah, i see.” jinhwan says, smiling a little as he processes the information, and you politely smile back. a part of you wants to help him carry this conversation out, but the other, more dominant part of you is just as socially awkward as he looks like he feels and is absolutely incapable of doing such a thing.

“you look quite young for a manager,” he offers, as an odd semblance of a compliment, and you take it in stride.

“i get that a lot! i actually used to be a trainee at AB, but i ended up becoming a manager inst!—ead …” you start, mouth running itself as it struggles to fill the awkward silence, before you register what you just said. 

“i, uh, i wasn’t supposed to say that.” you mutter, loudly enough so its audible but quietly enough to express your regret.

jinhwan, for what it’s worth, only looks placidly amused. “don’t worry, i won’t say a word,” he assures you. he doesn’t ask for any more details or for an elaboration on why it would be a secret. you’re grateful for that.

“thank you,” you say, trying not to let the relief show itself too heavily in your tone. if he notices it, he doesn’t say a word.

“i should be thanking you. for the drink and for the pain-relief patches, before. i don’t think i could have done my stage without either.” he assures you, kindly. “i didn’t get to thank you properly before.”

you shake your head in denial. “no, no, don’t worry about it. i get what it’s like to always be running low on time. and you did say thank you! i didn’t feel underappreciated, or ignored, or anything like that.” you explain, letting out your first real smile since the beginning of the conversation. 

(you miss the way his eyes linger on it for a beat too long.)

“i’m glad that you think that, then,” jinhwan says, faintly, as the hostess comes back with his menu that he barely even scans before ordering. you, too, order, ignoring the meaningful glances she’s throwing at the two of you. that’s a misunderstanding that can be resolved in the unlikely chance it becomes an issue.

“so,” jinhwan starts, “tell me about your group.”

and you’re gone.

conversation flows surprisingly easily once the two of you find your common ground. as a manager and as a friend, you have a lot to tell him about your members and how they act. “one of them, my friend, actually, she’s a really big fan of yours.” you mention, offhandedly. you’ve gone long past the point where you’re trying to filter yourself. 

“is that so?” he asks, calmly, and you grin.

“yeah. she was really jealous when i told her that i met you before,” you laugh, “and she’ll probably be a little bit jealous that i met you again today.”

“what about you?” he asks, and then looks a little bit startled. almost as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“i’m sorry?” you ask, despite knowing perfectly well what he’d meant to say. you do your best to not blush.

jinhwan, having seemingly decided to just go with it, smiles. “are you a fan of mine, too?” he asks, and oh, your cheeks are not supposed to feel this hot.

“i, uh—” you flounder, trying to think of a way to answer this professionally, before a strangely brave crevice of your mind tells you to be honest.

“before? i don’t know. but now? probably.” you admit, which is good enough for jinhwan.

he doesn’t push it (probably because you looked like a tomato just then and he wants to save your blood pressure), and instead steers the conversation back to your life as a manager and his funny anecdotes in the entertainment industry. for someone who is so soft spoken and looked so thoroughly awkward when you first met, he tries incredibly hard to keep the conversation flowing and comfortable. you’re half in awe at his easy going nature.

you eat slowly once you get your food, selfishly wanting the conversation to last longer, but eventually there are no more noodles left in your plate and half of the lunchtime rush has already cleared out. jinhwan excuses himself to pay, asking you to watch his jacket, and you grab your purse and your housewarming gift from the floor while you wait. your phone tells you that it’s been nearly two hours since you entered the restaurant, and you must have suddenly forgotten how to read time, because there’s no possible way you had spent that long talking with jinhwan.

he eventually comes back. he puts his mask on and grabs his jacket from the back of his chair, and you take that as your cue to head to the payment counter. “i’m here to pay for my order,” you say, pulling out your wallet, and the checkout man shakes his head. 

“you’re already paid for,” he explains, and you frown. “pardon me?” you ask, unsure if you heard him right.

“the gentleman who sat next to you has already paid for your meal,” he clarifies, and you stand there for a moment.

“are— are you sure?” you ask, confusedly. the checkout man nods. “here’s the purchase receipt if you want to be sure.”

the sound of the front door bell tinkling draws your attention, and you turn to see jinhwan’s figure leave the shop. “thank you!” you exclaim hurriedly to the counter, mindlessly stuffing the receipt in your left pocket before booking it out of there.

by the time you get to the outside of the shop, jinhwan is a good ten meters away. “jinh—!” you start, and then stop. yelling an idol’s name in public is most definitely not a good idea. 

you’ve never been the most active, but you run after him anyway. thankfully, he’s not making an effort to run away from you, because you wouldn’t be able to catch up with him then. 

eventually, you catch up with him as he’s waiting for a pedestrian walkway to turn green. “jinhwan-ssi!” you call, furtively, and the man in question turns around to face you.

" ______.” he says, curiously. “what are you doing here?”

“you paid for my meal.” you state, and he looks at you like it’s obvious. 

“yes, i did.” he says, frowning a little. the pedestrian walkway turns green. he doesn’t make any effort to move.

“can i pay you back?” you ask, hand instinctively going towards your wallet in your right pocket.

he laughs a little at that. “why would you pay me back? this is my thank you for the favours you did for me.”

“you don’t have to pay me back! i did those things because i could. besides, a vending machine drink and a pain-relief patch costs much less than a meal.” you argue.

“then, consider it like i’m doing this because i can.” he counters, and its very hard to object to your own logic.

“can i at least buy you coffee or something as thanks?” you ask, as the pedestrian walkway turns red once more. 

at this, jinhwan pauses, before he sighs. “i have vocal practice in half an hour, so i can’t right now. but—” he continues, seeing the look of disappointment you already knew was on your face, “did you get the receipt from the checkout guy?”

“the what?” you ask, confused.

his face pales. “oh no, did you not take it?” he asks, suddenly looking scared, and you remember mindlessly snatching the receipt from the checkout man’s hands. you clumsily pat through your pockets a little before pulling a slip of paper out from your left pocket. “no, i have it,” you say, holding it up, “but why?”

jinhwan sighs. “turn it over,” he says, and you do.

in pen, a phone number is scribbled over the back of the receipt. “jinhwan,” it says in neatly printed letters next to it, and you fight back the urge to smile. you probably do a terrible job of it, too.

“text me when you’re free, and we can do coffee sometime, yeah?” jinhwan offers. you can’t see his face well because of his mask, but the tips of his ears are red. it’s stupidly endearing.

“i will,” you promise, because how could you say no to that?

the walkway light turns green once again. jinhwan waves as he crosses the street, and you wave as you stay behind. its only after you’re absolutely, positively sure that he’s out of sight that you let yourself grin, burying your too-hot face into your hands. 

if you just played your cards right, you have a date with kim jinhwan.

-

(you text him the very same day, and make plans for coffee the next week.

you treat him to crepe cakes and lattes, and he pouts, claiming that the crepes were too much and now he just has to take you out to make up for it.

before you can tell him that no, it’s fine, it’s your treat, he has movie tickets for two booked and emailed to your account.

you agree to go, but only if you get to buy the popcorn.)

[mihidecet]

I see You

I’m back on my bs yall. This is meant to be a companion piece to this so if you’re in the mood for some pure and extremely shameless comfort maybe check it out?

I somehow ended up writing 3.8K of Manburg family dynamics, set in an alternate universe where none of the extremely messed us stuff of the canon happened. ((we could have had it all))

Once again do not take this as ship content!! Let’s normalize platonic cuddling and being close with your friends without it being sexual!! Pretty pretty please!!

Contrary to popular belief, Schlatt is not that dense when it comes to feelings. 

His ignorance of other people's emotions is a willing act of defiance. Defiance towards whom, you may find yourself asking?

… Anyway.

Schlatt does notice things. Stuff happening around him. And he does remember them.

He knows Tubbo takes his morning tea with two spoonfuls of honey, and a slice of bread with any marmalade on it except raspberry, which as it turns out he doesn't like. Schlatt stops providing raspberry marmalade, but it never really gets questioned. 

He knows Fundy will get scraped up while exploring during the day, and will always forget to bandage himself up properly, so he makes sure to mention it in passing to whoever is near him at the end of the day - just to know that people will check up on the kid. He doesn't need to go himself, Fundy would never allow him to take care of him directly, and he's not going to subject either of them to that situation. 

Most of all, he notices Quackity - with him being the Vice President, they're around each other a lot. 

Quackity is a bright light in the cabinet. 

While Tubbo is a warm late afternoon glow and Fundy is burning fire, Quackity is sunshine by the seaside on a midday spring day. 

Quackity likes coffee, but only if it's been drowned with sugar. He likes singing, humming tunes to himself as he works or while he cooks - he does it for everyone, whenever he has the time to, and he is one of the best cooks there are. He likes to debate, bringing up topics to talk about during slow times, engaging Tubbo into verbal spars. He makes sure that Fundy has eaten at least three times per day, and that he's gone to sleep at a decent time. 

He smiles to himself whenever he finishes a document. Ruffles Tubbo's hair. Touches Fundy's shoulder to stop him to ask him how he's doing. Taps Schlatt's shoulder to catch his attention.

Quackity is a very tactile person. 

Schlatt remembers him hugging people, throwing arms around shoulders, laughing out loud with tears at the corners of his eyes. 

So it's no wonder that a couple of months into their presidency, with work and paperwork occupying most of their days, Quackity is both overly stressed and constantly fidgeting.

It comes to a point when Schlatt catches him visibly reaching out to people and then backing away, awkward and embarrassed, mumbling excuses before making a joke of being lost in his mind due to work.

That cannot continue. It simply cannot. 

Schlatt finishes his paperwork an hour early that night, then he takes a swig from one of his already opened bottles for good luck and gets to work.

The trip from his study to Quackity's is almost too long - it gives him almost enough time to change his mind, almost enough time to chicken out and just plan something else, maybe unleash Tubbo on him. But before he can formulate the idea in his mind, he's standing in front of the oak door and his hand is already raised to knock. 

Too late to back down. A part of him reasons, despite the fact that it isn't. 

"Come in." Quackity's voice answers after he raps his knuckles against the wood. 

The room inside is dimly lit: the only source of light is a small table lamp that shines a beacon on Quackity’s documents as his pen flies on the paper sheet, the man’s slightly hunched back straightening when he notices him entering, a small tired smile appearing on his face. 

"What are you doing here?" He asks, his head tilting lightly to the side - then bending further, one hand coming up to rub at his neck with a slightly pained expression. Schlatt advances, crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging while Quackity seemingly discovers more and more sore spots along his back. 

"I finished my paperwork, I figured I'd stop by."

"Oh, cool. -” he replies with one final satisfied grunt “- I'm almost done with this."

Schlatt nods absentmindedly, gesturing vaguely with a hand towards a nearby armchair: "You mind?" There’s a moment of confused silence as Quackity looks at him as if he’s grown a second set of horns, a mixture of surprise, amusement and incredulity overcoming his features, then he shakes his head and chuckles to himself. To be fair, any other night he’d have flung himself on his bed the instant his paperwork had been done. Still, Quackity recovers quickly, nodding towards him and swiftly resuming his work.

It’s hard not to fall asleep with the sound of his friend’s pen running over paper calming his nerves, the dimness surrounding them and the comfiness of the armchair under him. He remembers when Quackity had brought it in, slightly old looking and covered in a transparent sheet of plastic: he’d called it a lifetime occasion, found in a yard sale, and Schlatt had doubted its usefulness - after all, they had a couch in the livingroom and multiple chairs for each of their desks. 

And yet, there hasn’t yet been a day when the armchair wasn’t occupied by someone. When the days are cold, Tubbo can often be found curled up in it with a mug of hot chocolate and a blanket safely tucked around his shoulders - by whom should be quite obvious. And sometimes, when the nights are too long and sleep avoids Fundy, he retreats there, silently, and turns the armchair so that he can keep a watchful eye over Quackity as he works - that is, until sleep finds him, comforted by the knowledge that they’re all safe and alive. 

There’s a small bookshelf next to the armchair, filled with tomes both bought, found and written - some in English, most in Spanish. Quackity is nothing but fond and proud of his collection, and while Schlatt’s not going to tell anyone, he has read plenty of poems from the books that looked the most used. He’s aware that his Spanish isn’t the best, but it helps with keeping his knowledge fresh. 

His eyes catch on a thin book that he doesn’t remember seeing before - its title along the spine is a mesh of letters, with way too many consonants, and definitely in a language he doesn’t know. Picking it up, he figures it will help with his task of not falling asleep as he waits, but alas, as on the spine, the whole book is filled with too many long words - is that a whole line of just one? Who made this up?

He starts flipping back to the incipit, in hope of at least finding the author’s name. When he reaches it, though, what catches his attention first isn’t the name itself - Goethe, ah, that’s it, German - but a hand-penned inscription just below. 

“Hey Da Dumbass, I heard you like poetry in foreign languages. Try and read this. Fundy.”

Thankfully, the sound of a satisfied grunt reaches his ears and unknots the tightness in his throat and distracts him from the warmth spreading in his chest.

Behind him, Quackity - he calls him dad - stretches his arms behind his back and sighs. 

"Alright, this one's done! -” he starts, smiling proudly to himself before shooting a somewhat guilty look towards the rest of the documents piled up on his desk “- You know, you don't have to wait for me, I figured since it's not so late I could get a bit of stuff done ahead of time-" Schlatt levels him with an unimpressed stare, then claps the book closed and places it back in its original place before standing up and making his way towards his still sitting friend. 

"Alright, that's it." Quackity looks visibly confused, even a bit worried, as he leans back into his chair, but Schlatt is a man on a mission: he won’t be swayed by it, this is supposed to be an intervention. He stops once he’s close, standing up right next to Quackity, and his friend looks nervously up at him, a high pitched self conscious chuckle escaping him. 

"Wh-what- what's up?" Schlatt gives him a quick look just to confirm his theory, but he knows him. And most importantly, he knows himself, he knows he can manage it. 

"You, in a moment-" He quips, bending down and quickly scooping the shorter man up, one arm under his legs while the other supports his back and then- 

"Wait, hold on- hold on I-” Quackity starts to protest, but by then Schlatt already has a secure hold on him, so up they go, followed by a yelp by Quackity himself as he is quite suddenly hoisted up into Schlatt’s arms, one hand reaching out and wrapping around the taller man’s shirt with a vice-like grip as he splutters, eyes wide as saucers.

“HOLY SHIT-! HOW IN THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?!" 

And to be completely fair, Schlatt is not one to back down from the chance to boast at this type of thing, so he simply shrugs and squeezes him closer with a self satisfied smirk: "I told you I lift, you dumbass."

"I- I- put me down." Quackity gapes, seemingly still wrapping his head around the sudden switch in situation; the way he leans into the hold is probably unconscious, but it does confirm his theory that his vice president, his closest friend, is in desperate need of being on the receiving end of some care and comfort. And he knows, deep inside himself, that he’s not the best candidate for the job, but if nobody’s going to do it then he is for sure going to. 

"I will in a moment. You need sleep." He replies, tone firm but not loud, reaching out with a hand to turn off the desk lamp - inwardly thanking the low light coming from the torches in the corridor for allowing him not to make a fool of himself by immediately tripping on his feet. 

"I- alright, but I can get to my room on my own!" Quackity protests, sounding flustered, and Schlatt has a moment of hesitation as the sudden fear of having overstepped a boundary hits him. Maybe he shouldn't have done this. Shit, fuck, he's screwed this, hasn't he? 

But as he pauses for a moment to look down at Quackity, to asses the situation, he realises that the man is actually clutching at him, and his head is resting under his chin - the soft fabric of the beanie pushing against his cheek the moment he bends his head to look down. Schlatt lets out a steadying breath: he can do this. 

"I know you can. I don't mind doing this, though." He states, firmly but not unlindly, voice softening, and he holds him close again - one armed as he reaches out to close the corridor's door. A huff of breath warms a spot over his chest. 

"I- you're such a fucking showoff, dude." He murmurs, accepting the situation with what sounds like a small smile on his face.

It takes him a minute, but soon he's opening the door of Quackity's bedroom. The shorter man, who had been slowly relaxing overtime, leaning more and more into his chest, startles as if waking up from sleeping and tenses up.

"Alright, now you can drop me off." He comments, but Schlatt is a bit more preoccupied with losing himself inside his own mind as he thinks about what to do next, so Quackity stays up - it's not like he's gonna wriggle around and risk falling on his ass on the ground. After a moment, he looks down at where Q's hand is clutching at his shirt, and at where his head is still pressed against his chest. A part of him is enjoying this too, and isn't really ready to let go, but still, this isn't about him. It's about what Quackity wants.

So he forces his anxieties down, swallows around the knot in his throat and tries. 

"What- what if I didn't yet, though." Quackity is silent for a moment after that, but his hand doesn't unclench, so he counts it as a good thing. 

"You're not making any sense, man." 

Schlatt is stood in the middle of the room, holding Quackity up, keeping him close, and he feels like he's balancing multiple instincts wanting to drag him in any direction - anywhere else other than here, right now, when stuff is so confusing and worrisome and he's constantly scared of scaring Quackity off with something weird. 

But yet again, he keeps it down, keeps it quiet. For his friend. 

"I've been seeing how stressed you are. Is this helping? Please be honest." If he had a free hand, he would be running it through his hair, a nervous habit he's been picking back up. Yet, his arms are starting to feel the strain of holding a body up, so he's not going to risk letting him fall to the ground. After what seems like an eternity, another sigh in the form of a warm puff of breath hits his chest as Quackity concedes. 

"... A bit …"

Good, he can't help but think. Communication is key in these situations. In all situations really, but he appreciates the fact that Q is opening up and letting him know he is alright with being held like this. Spurred on by this, he ponders his next words perhaps a bit too little. 

"Is it the caring or the touching?"

Quackity visibly flinches at the wordings, leaning back a little - pushing more strain on Schlatt's right arm - to stare at him with a sarcastic frown.

"Shit, man, you are such a wordsmith-"

Too quick, too many variables lost to the moment, and Schlatt is swept up in the frenzy of the situation - he has never, ever been good at smoothing out situations. 

"Will you just answer-"

"It's both! Geeze, are you happy now?!" Quackity's embarrassed outburst manages to at the same time shut him up and quieten the anxious voices in his head - so he was right, Quackity did like this, and he didn't mind it. Now if that wasn't a win in his book … he sighs, squeezing him close.

"Yeah, kinda. See, it wasn't hard. You little bitch." He comments, tone way too fond for him to be taken seriously ever again, but he figures he's allowed to be a bit soft - it's late, they're tired, and they're the only ones in the room.

Schlatt decides he's not going to subject himself to the mortifying ordeal of starting to lose strength in his arms - he has a reputation to uphold - so he quickly makes his way to the large bed, turns and sits down, inwardly relieved that he's managed to get this far. His nerves still haven't betrayed him. Yet. At least Quackity isn't launching himself on the other side of the room the moment he has a chance not to fall on the ground if he moves the wrong way. 

"What are you doing?" Quackity asks, sounding genuinely confused as he looks up at him with furrowed brows, so now it's Schlatt's turn to splutter indignantly, the arm under Q's legs sneaking up to wave confusedly in the air.

"I'm about to murder you is what I'm doing- what does it look like?! I'm trying to comfort you!"

A moment of silence follows, during which Schlatt stares awkwardly at Quackity's shocked face. Then Q's eyes soften and he starts chuckling, shaking his head for a moment before he lets it fall back down against his collarbone, sneaking an arm around his waist. 

"Feeling real fucking comforted, for sure." He comments, humour loud in his voice as he squirms around for a moment trying to find a comfortable position, quieting a moment later and letting out a small sigh.

"I am going to throw you into the river." Schlatt answers, bringing the hand that was holding his back up to the nape of his neck, fingers dipping under his beanie to lightly scratch at his scalp, pressing his friend's forehead against his neck.

When Quackity answers a moment later, his voice is but a murmur.

"I thought you were here to comfort me?"

"Shut up and be comforted, then, you dumbass." He huffs out, but there's a smile on his face despite the way he tries to seem angry. He is still way too soft to be taken seriously, and he'll be mad about it later, when Quackity will keep making coffee for the both of them, but then he'll lean into him while Schlatt's making eggs for Fundy, and he'll call him soft when he remembers to add the herbs the young fox hybrid picked himself; not to mention how he'll suddenly realise who had been bringing Tubbo back to his room after the kid had fallen asleep on the couch. 

But still, it's worth it, as he slowly grabs the hand that is still gripping his shirt, gently pressing against his fingers until he lets go; he places it back on Quackity's lap, rubbing what he hopes are comforting circles into his wrist - he knows how bad it can get when you spend all day writing, and knows his intuition payed off when his friend's shoulders relax even further.

To be quite honest, Quackity hadn't even realised his writing hand had been hurting. 

A joke threatens to rise in Q's throat, a way to diffuse the situation, a mechanism born from ages of repressing wholesomeness because that's the type of things that get you in trouble, because feelings get treated as a weakness, but he squashes it down, closing his eyes with a sigh as he lets himself enjoy the moment.

The warmth of a hug that is truly meant, the comforting weight of Schlatt's head against the top of his, the blissful peace that he associates with having his hair played with - It's been a while since he had the chance to do this, to feel this. 

He could fall asleep like this, he thinks, eyes closing on their own and body melting into the sensation, and he finds himself floating, suspended - but also grounded, tethered by the points of contact between their bodies. 

He feels- he feels like he did when Fundy tried to teach him German, him stumbling over the words while the other laughed with him; or like all the times Tubbo brought him outside in the garden, guiding him through the steps needed to take care of his beloved pets. 

He feels at home. 

And after a moment, he feels Schlatt relax too, his movements less precise, less rithmic, his shoulders sagging a bit as they lean more into each other instead of just Quackity against him - and doesn't that feel poignant, he thinks, but not pointing it out loud feels like a better choice. 

He feels before he hears the low timbre of Schlatt's voice, unusually quiet due to a mix of tiredness and the silent atmosphere surrounding them. 

"I'm gonna lie back. That alright with you?"

It takes a moment for Quackity to realise that he is asking for permission. He wants to nod, but that would jostle their heads. So he hums in what hopes is a notably affirmative way, and just to be sure his message is correctly interpreted, he turns his palm upward, fingers wrapping around the taller man's wrist, and squeezes.  

He feels a chuckle vibrate through the chest under his cheek; again, quiet, toned down, but this time it also feels like he's trying not to move too much - and that right there makes him want to never stop smiling, especially whenever Schlatt pretends he doesn't care. Because if there is one thing Quackity knows is that he cares so much, despite the fact that he still pretends he doesn't know how a doctor found their way to Fundy's room after he scraped his knee, the poor medic armed as if somebody had just lost an arm. 

Schlatt thinks he's so good at hiding his feelings, and then he stops buying a specific type of marmalade because Tubbo joked about it tasting funny. He is nothing but a dork, and this has just done nothing more than confirm his suspicions. 

The hand in his hair gently cups his head as Schlatt leans back until he's laying on the bed, and Quackity has to swallow back a knot in his throat at the pure, unaltered sweetness with which he is being treated - like he's fragile, but not in a bad, diminishing way: like you would treat a fancy ancient vase, or a masterpiece. 

Quackity squeezes his eyes, feeling himself get watery, and focuses on the fact that like this, he's not that comfortable anymore. There's no need for his legs to be both over his friend's body, so he shuffles back until he's more curled up against his side, half laying on his chest, head still tucked under his chin - by god how perfectly safe he feels with that soft pressure against his temple. 

Schlatt lets him wriggle around, the hand in his hair never moving, and once he stills his other one moves back to his own chest, where Quackity's hand rests against his heart, and his fingers gently wrap around his. 

"This alright?" Comes a murmur from above him and Quackity's fingers squeeze automatically in response, finding himself unable to verbalise an answer at first.

"Thank you." He breathes out a moment later, after he's able to reign in his emotions just enough for him to find his voice again.

"Don't- don't thank me." Comes Schlatt's instant response, the fingers in his hair halting for a moment as he pauses, seemingly deep in thought. When he speaks again, his tone is once again slow and hushed, and his fingers are once more rubbing slow circles against his scalp.  

"You can come to me for this. Anytime you want. I want you to know that you can count on me."

And oh, alright, Quackity thinks, eyes widening for a moment - he has to hurry and squeeze them shut before he starts tearing up, fighting against the way emotions squeeze at his chest; pure unadulterated joy at the knowledge that this is true, this is good and this is his. His small, dumb, weird family, made of mostly jagged pieces that somehow fit so well together. Quackity clutches at the fingers wrapped around his, squeezing maybe just a bit too tight, throat thick and feelings running, and then he simply nods into his friend's collarbone. 

Schlatt just squeezes back - and that's just how they are, two dumbass friends holding onto each other, doing their best.

Minutes later, he falls asleep, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of his friend's chest and the gentle feeling of being held.

[the-elusive-libbin]

Hypnosis Mic- Hunger canons

Hunger Noises and reactions - Some of the Hypmic bois - Self indulgence at its finest

So I wanted to do some hunger stuff since I rarely do hunger based things and its actually my favourite kink. This is rather self indulgent so please do bear with it. Here are some mini canons regarding some of my favourite Hypnosis mic bois...this is one of my current hype anime series after all. Not included all of the guys, i.e Badass temple and Dotsuitare hompo, simply because I don’t know them all yet. Anyway, click ‘keep reading’ if you wanna keep reading ;)

Ichirou Yamada- Boisterous and rowdy- preferred wording: Belly: Ichirou tends to cater to his belly when it growls in public by raising an eyebrow at it, scoffing in mild irritation and eating a lot. Secretly he flusters more when his brothers hear his empty tummy and make jokes but the oldest buster bro puts on a face for the two youngsters, always has. He’s been without food for the sake of his younger brothers before and during those times, he would often fill his starving belly full of water in a feeble attempt to quieten the organ and hope that the others didn't ear the odd escaping moan; after all he's the one that's supposed to be caring for the two youngsters and he’d hate to make them worry. Nowadays he’s more nonchalant around others when they hear his groans, waving it off or joking about grabbing a bite to eat.

Jirou Yamada- Persistant and whiny yet deep, as though imitating Ichirou's belly- Preferred wording: Belly: Jirou doesn't hide his hunger anymore, sure he used to go hungry a lot and it's not like he's not embarrassed by the noises that emanate from his belly, but he's too used to complaining and whining for food when he's starved nowadays. If he wasn't too dense to realize the strong front that Ichirou always used to put up for he and Saburo, Jirou would attempt to mimic the oldest brother and do the same thing, putting on a strong front for the youngest bro. Unfortunately Jirou is dense and doesn’t realize ... his stomach has a habit of groaning directly after Ichirou's has. His mouth waters a lot at the sight of food when he’s ravenous and he will eat rapidly in order to fill his stomach quicker, something Ichirou has scolded him for on multiple occasions.

Ramuda Amemura - Long and high pitched with a deep undertone - Preferred wording: Tummy: Ramuda just let's his tummy rumble in public, it really doesn't bother him, especially since the girls tend to find it cute and sometimes they even give him candy. It's a win win in the little shit's eyes. He'll openly whine, about how hungry he is while patting his tummy with both hands and is even known to ask others if they can hear it moan, all for attention of course. Ramuda doesn’t like being hungry for too long though and isn’t usually due to the amount of sweets he passively consumes. Must have a good metabolism.

Gentaro Yumeno - Soft and gentle but very aggressive when neglected - Preferred wording: Stomach or Belly: Gentarou generally has a soft spoken stomach if you will. He eats meals on a regular time scale and doesn’t often skip. That does not mean however that he never skips meals as sometimes he can become so carried away with his writing that he forgets to eat. In situations like this, the writer will find his stomach a nuisance as it begins to suddenly, without warning, rumble at a fairly audible volume....embarrassing if you’re in a restaurant people watching and writing because there is no doubt that they would have heard the hungry groans. In response Gentaro inwardly flushes and decides it may be high time to grab some food before he is once again, rudely interrupted. Most of the time the man’s stomach is calm and collected but in it’s defense, there are only so many hours you can go without food before you have to speak up.

Dice Arisugawa - Constantly groaning, medium length, fairly deep, echoey rumbles- Preferred wording: Belly: Dice is always gambling his money away and so doesn’t tend to have money for food. Dude would sooner gamble his life away than eat. Of course canonically this means he’s always hungry and always trying to mooch food and money. Therefore I don’t think he’d be privy to hiding the ominous groans that constantly escape his belly, he’d use the moaning of his gut to emphasize his point as he complains about how he needs food and that he’s wasting away. Puppy dog eyes, groaning tummy and theatrical belly rubs or even lifting up his shirt to show you the damage are all things he’s used to. The only time he hides his growling tummy is when he’s fruitlessly trying to explain that he hasn’t been gambling....which of course everyone knows is a lie. He’s not flustered by his groans and canonically will love anyone who treats him to a meal.

Samatoki Aohitsugi- Deep and violent groans - Preferred wording: Gut: Samatoki has no time for his stomach’s noises and will try to cover the noises up should he accidentally skip or have no time for a solid meal. He especially likes to keep an arm wrapped around it when the crazy navy officer of the Mad Trigger Crew is nearby in the fear that he’ll soon be stuffed to the gills with something foul. Samatoki’s little sister cooks decent meal portions for him and often prepares bentos for while he’s ‘working’ so it’s unusual to hear the white haired man’s belly in the first place. He actually dislikes being hungry and is prone to getting hangry. He wouldn’t want to admit it but he’s rather flustered by his belly noises as he feels they ruin his tough guy image and make people feel sorry for him. Watch his face turn red should you comment on a loud grumble or groan.

Jyuto Iruma- Fairly average, medium sounding gurgles- Preferred wording: Stomach: Jyuto is flustered easily enough by his stomach but he tries not to let it show; coughing into a gloved fist or pushing his glasses back onto his face are often enough to keep his embarrassment at bay. Tease him however and you’ll get the opposite effect, polite ‘excuse me’s’ reddening cheeks and robotic movements. The guy wants to remain cool and collected, not look and sound as though he’s missed multiple meals, do him a favour and don’t tease. Jyuto tries to keep his stomach nice and satisfied while keeping to his meal schedules as best he can. He shares his fear of being stuffed by Rio with Samatoki and shudders at the thought of his teammate’s cooking. Canonically, Jyuto’s grumbling tummy has caused trouble for both himself and Samatoki before.

Rio Mason Busujima - Deep, guttural, animal-like groans- Preferred wording: Gut/Stomach/Belly: Rio canonically lives in a tent in the woods catching and eating whatever he can to eat, which often leads to the ex-marine slurping down a plethora of weird and wonderful things. There are times when of course, he is unable to catch a decent meal and so may have to go to bed on a partially or completely empty stomach. There is nothing stopping him from buying food, he just doesn’t do it often, when he does, he stocks up on canned rations. On occasion he has found himself running without provisions and in those cases his stomach likes to very much voice its displeasure. Rio isn’t really bothered by his stomach or its growls, they’re natural and he’s used to it. I think the only way to fluster him with hunger would be if his stomach groaned in a crowded room and everyone heard it or maybe if you were to place an ear to it. His stomach is often loud like an animal roar, even at the start phase of his hunger and can be calmed only by gentle tummy rubs and food. You’d have no chance of getting any sleep whilst lay beside this man when he’s hungry.

Jakurai Jinguji - Soft and regular yet deep- Preferred wording: Stomach: The good doctor detests the idea of neglecting his stomach. It shouldn’t happen with his patients so why should he let it happen to himself? Unfortunately it does, rather often actually as the poor guy is always so busy taking care of others that he forgets about himself. Jakurai will always eat when he gets the chance to and he is fully aware that he needs to eat regularly to maintain a healthy diet, he’s a doctor after all. When hungry, the doctor’s tummy is fairly soft and deep sounding, rumbling in low tones that are not unlike that of his voice. It can become quite loud when he’s been hungry for long or if the poor doc falls asleep with an empty stomach as it will rumble deeply in a feeble attempt to wake its sleeping master. Most of the time Jakurai feels the vibrations before hearing them, especially if the room he’s in is bustling so he’s not too worried. Stomach noises are natural and his is just doing its thing. That does not mean that he won’t be embarrassed should a loud groan catch him off guard. Either way, stand next to this doctor on a busy day where he’s skipped lunch and keep an ear out. Perhaps you can hear those groans becoming gradually louder and louder as time goes by~

Hifumi Izanami - Almost sing-song-like, high-pitched gurgles- Preferred wording: It varies depending on the girl he’s talking to, otherwise he uses stomach: Hifumi’s stomach isn’t normally overactive, loud or really very vocal. It’s only on the odd occasion where he’s super hungry where it will whine like a neglected child. He’s usually sated and not hungry but Hifumi has a fairly good metabolism and can become hungry whilst working or chilling at home after a few hours of not eating. Should his belly groan while he’s working at the host club, suit on of course, he’ll just flirt it away “Do you hear that? That was the sound of me hungering for your love, how about some champagne?” In some awkward chat up line that somehow always works...much to Doppo’s irritation. He will change the wording and the way he acts about being hungry to match the girl he is currently with however, complain softly to those who like cute guys and acting refined about it to those who like mature men for example. Should Hifumi’s stomach grumble at home however he’ll whine to Doppo while cooking them both a dinner. He’s more likely to complain than he is to fluster at the sounds. Unlike Jakurai, Hifumi can drink on an empty stomach without getting tipsy as he’s built up an tolerance.

Doppo Kannonzaka - Average, each growl varies and is situational- Preferred word: Stomach or belly: Doppo eats normal foods at scheduled hours of the day. His lunch breaks are at the same time each day, his breakfast he eats at the same time each day and he presumably eats dinner with Hifumi at around the same time each day. Doppo’s stomach makes all sorts of noises, hungry or not and he finds it futile to attempt to stop them because he knows that they won’t listen anyway. His stomach has a mind of its own. Some days Doppo can be absolutely ravenous and not feel the bite of hunger with his stomach not making a peep, other days his stomach will groan loudly and uncontrollably, varying in pitch and tone. Should anyone hear this or dare I say comment on the sounds, he will blush and maybe even slam his head to the desk, cursing the world under his breath. He’s already way too tired to deal with the embarrassment of his random hungry stomach’s outbursts at work. He’ll have a bigger breakfast tomorrow he promises himself.  Regarding Doppo and Hifumi - I would assume that they come home from work at separate intervals, one working a salary man 9-5 job with overtime and the other being a host (Presumably working the Shinjuku nightlife.) I imagine that they get at least one meal a day together aside from Hifumi’s days off. My prediction as someone who worked the nightlife in England for 6 years is that the two rarely get time together but do see each other, Hifumi would possibly have to work weekends but may get time off in the week of or work less shifts, then again he is supposedly Shinjuku’s number 1 host so that may not be entirely accurate. Anyway it’s all speculation and I would totally love to hear more about their living habits. Let me know what you think, I’m slowly going to work through asks on my day off but I’m more than happy to chat hypmic ;)

[recentanimenews]

Random Reads 2/18/21

Are You in the House Alone? by Richard Peck Are You in the House Alone? came out in 1976 and though I totally could’ve read it when I was a teen—and thus still a member of its target audience—I never did.

Gail Osburne is a sixteen-year-old high school junior and native New Yorker who’s not at home in the quaint Connecticut village her family relocated to several years back. I knew that the plot involved Gail receiving menacing anonymous notes and phone calls, and I was expecting these events to get started quickly and the suspense to remain high throughout. But that doesn’t happen.

Instead, the story is told retroactively, so we know Gail survives. Also, obvious culprit is obvious. (I hope the reveal wasn’t intended to be a surprise, but perhaps readers were less savvy about such things in 1976.) Initially, much more of the focus is on Gail’s relationships with her parents, boyfriend, and best friend, and in particular how the latter two are in the slow process of dissolution. Eventually she receives some threatening notes and creepy phone calls, gets scared, is let down by people in positions of authority, and comes face-to-face with said obvious culprit. That happens halfway through this slim novel. The rest of the book is about Gail’s recovery from her ordeal.

I thought Are You in the House Alone? was going to be fun, suspenseful fluff, but it turned out to be fairly serious and occasionally (intentionally) infuriating. I really appreciated how Peck was able to weave in a couple of threads that seemed very random at first and make them integral to the denouement, too. Ultimately, I didn’t love the book, but I kind of… respect it, if that makes sense. It didn’t go the cheap route.

The Automatic Detective by A. Lee Martinez Mack Megaton is a hulking robot who was created to destroy. He developed self-determination, however, and went against his programming. Now, he’s a probationary citizen of Empire City, where mutagens and pollution have created a very diverse population. While some “biologicals” are still “norms,” others have been physically transformed (like rat-like Detective Alfredo Sanchez) and others have been changed in not-so-visible ways (like Mack’s friend, Jung, a talking gorilla with refined literary taste). Mack works as a cab driver and is trying to keep a low profile, but when his neighbors are abducted, he can’t help but try to rescue them. This gets him into all sorts of trouble, of course.

Despite its name, The Automatic Detective isn’t really much of a mystery. I suppose it’s more… sci-fi noir. Mack meets various thugs, beats some of them up, gets beat up himself, etc. Slowly, he makes progress on uncovering a huge conspiracy. At times, I felt like Martinez was a little too enamored of the gimmick he created, and places in the middle dragged a bit as a result, but the ending is pretty satisfying and overall the book was enjoyable enough, even though it’s quite far from the sort of thing I usually read.

As a final note: I really liked that Martinez limited himself when it came time to invent universe-specific profanity. Instead of the text being liberally sprinkled with words like “frell” or “frak,” the phrase “Oh, flurb” appears but once (during a moment where the meaning is 100% apparent) and made me laugh out loud.

I don’t know if I’m necessarily eager to read more by Martinez, but I’m glad I read this one.

The Inimitable Jeeves by P. G. Wodehouse When I read My Man Jeeves back in 2010, I was somewhat disappointed because so much of it was repetitive. While there are some common elements that recur within the eleven stories that comprise The Inimitable Jeeves, it is still so very much superior that I’d now say… forget about that first book. Start here. Go back and read My Man Jeeves for completist purposes, if that’s your inclination, but start here for the best introduction to these characters and Wodehouse’s uniquely charming and amusing writing.

First published in 1923, The Inimitable Jeeves contains a linked set of stories that typically involve affable Bertie Wooster being imposed upon by either his eternally lovesick friend Bingo Little (who is “always waylaying one and decanting his anguished soul”) or his mischief-making younger cousins, Claude and Eustace. One plot thread involves convincing Bingo’s uncle (who provides him with an allowance) to agree to Bingo marrying a waitress. Jeeves comes up with the idea to ply the uncle with romance novels featuring class differences to soften his heart, and it ends up that Bertie is compelled to go visit the old fellow and claim to be the author. In addition to containing the most elegant description of sweat I’ve ever seen—“The good old persp was bedewing my forehead by this time in a pretty lavish manner.”—this situation is referenced a few times in subsequent stories until Bingo succeeds in getting married to a different waitress who really is the author of those romance novels.

So, even though you’ve got episodic happenings, it’s rather a satisfactory conclusion. Bertie is endearing, Jeeves is competent, the writing is excellent, and it made me laugh. (I especially liked when a character was described as resembling “a sheep with a secret sorrow.”) I’m so glad that I didn’t give up on the series after the first book; now I feel as though I finally see what the fuss is all about. I’d also like to give credit to the fabulous narration by Jonathan Cecil. I’m not sure if it’s deliberate, but I hear echoes of Fry and Laurie in his performance, and I heartily approve. I will certainly seek out more unabridged versions read by him.

The Murders of Richard III by Elizabeth Peters This is the second in the Jacqueline Kirby series of mysteries. I haven’t read the first, and wouldn’t normally begin with the second, but the book promised an English country mansion plus “fanatic devotees of King Richard III” so my usual routine flew right out the window.

Even before university lecturer Thomas Carter likened himself unto Watson, I’d noticed the similarities between how this tale is told and the Sherlock Holmes stories. We are never permitted inside Jacqueline’s head. Instead, we see her how Thomas, hopeful of one day securing her romantic affections, views her. It’s fairly interesting, actually, because Thomas’ opinion of her fluctuates, sometimes peevishly. “You drive me crazy with your arrogance and your sarcasm and your know-it-all airs,” he says at one point. And though he soon after claims “I’m no male chauvinist; I don’t mind you showing off,” the fact is that earlier he was grumbling inwardly about her feigning “girlish ignorance” to reel in mansplainers and then walloping the “unwitting victim” with a cartload of knowledge. It’s true that Jacqueline isn’t especially likeable sometimes, but for remorselessly trouncing the sexist louts she encounters throughout the book, I must commend her!

The mystery itself is somewhat bland, unfortunately. The leader of a Ricardian society has received a letter purportedly written by Elizabeth of York, which would exonerate Richard of the deaths of her brothers, the “princes in the tower.” He calls a meeting of the society, with each attendee costumed as one of the historical personages involved, and summons the press, planning to unveil his find with much fanfare. But someone begins playing practical jokes on the Ricardians reminiscent of the fates of the people they are pretending to be. The book isn’t a long one, and soon the pranks start coming right on the heels of one another. Because of the swift pace—and some shallow characterization—the solution is rather anti-climactic.

Still, while I’m not sure I’ll seek out any more Jacqueline Kirby mysteries, this was overall a decent read.

A Perfect Match by Jill McGown The series of books featuring Detective Inspector Lloyd (whose first name is a secret for now) and Detective Sergeant Judy Hill begins with a short yet enjoyable mystery in which a wealthy young widow is found dead in a small English town on property she’d just inherited from her recently deceased husband. Unlike some mysteries of which I am fond, there’s no preamble where readers get to know the victim or the circumstances of their life. Instead, immediately there’s a policeman discovering the body and then Lloyd turns up to question the victim’s next of kin. This same lack of character development hampers the romantic tension between Lloyd and Hill, leaving me with no idea what motivated Hill to finally decide to act on her feelings for him, betraying her marriage vows in the process.

The mystery itself is interesting enough, however, involving long-married Helen and Donald Mitchell who have ties to both the victim, Julia—her late husband was Donald’s older brother and Helen thinks they were having an affair—and chief suspect, Chris, originally a friend of Donald’s who has fallen in love with Helen. I can’t claim to have mustered anything more than a mild curiosity as to what the outcome would be, but neither did I guess the specifics, so that was good. I liked the interrogation scenes, too.

McGown’s writing had some fun moments. I loved the super-evocative imagery of Lloyd telling Hill that her new perm makes her look like Kevin Keegan. I also really appreciated a recurring bit where each chapter ends with the point of view of wildlife. When Chris is eventually brought in by the police, his arrest is depicted from a bird’s perspective, for example. There are also ducks, a moth, a fly, a cat… I don’t know if this device recurs in later books in the series, but I look forward to finding out.

Reconstructing Amelia by Kimberly McCreight This is the second mystery/thriller I’ve read in which a single mom who is a lawyer with a cold and unfeeling mother of her own attempts to work out the mystery of what happened to a family member (the other being Girl in the Dark by Marion Pauw). Is that some kind of trend these days?

Kate Baron has a demanding job at a swanky firm, but she’s trying her best to be a good mom to her fifteen-year-old bookworm daughter, Amelia. She’s shocked to get a call from Grace Hall, the prestigious private school Amelia attends, saying that her daughter has been accused of cheating, and by the time she makes her way to the school, Amelia has evidently jumped to her death from the school roof. The police are only too happy to classify her death as a suicide, but when Kate gets a text that says “Amelia didn’t jump,” she starts trying to put together the pieces of what happened.

Reconstructing Amelia has quite a few problems. Despite her better judgment (and a promise to her best friend), Amelia joins a clique of bitchy girls at school who end up publicly humiliating her and trying to get her expelled when she falls in love with someone deemed off-limits. It’s hard to muster sympathy for what she ends up going through when one remembers the cruel prank she was willing to pull on someone else as part of the initiation process (largely kept off-camera to keep us from disliking her too much, I guess). We’re repeatedly told about the great relationship Amelia and her mom share, but never shown it. The subplot about Amelia’s dad is the literary equivalent of wilted lettuce. And the fact that the new detective who gets assigned to the case allows Kate to question suspects is absolutely ludicrous.

And yet, I couldn’t hate the book, largely because of Amelia’s friend, Sylvia. For much of the book she comes across as shallow and self-absorbed, but when Amelia really needs her, she’s there. She gives Amelia this tour of “great moments at Grace Hall” to cheer up her impressive pal, right before breaking down about her own legitimate pain. I never would’ve thought at the outset that I would have such immense sympathy for Sylvia, but I do. I find myself hoping that she’ll be okay.

Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane It sure is nice going into a book unspoiled, particularly one as twisty as Shutter Island. I was quite happy with the book as it began, with U.S. Marshals Teddy Daniels and Chuck Aule taking the ferry to Shutter Island to track down a patient missing from Ashcliffe Hospital for the Criminally Insane. It’s late summer 1954, and these guys are manly but accessible, and surprisingly funny. Consider this relatiely early exchange that cracked me up:

Pretentious Doctor: *makes remarks on the lives of violence the marshals must lead* Chuck: Wasn’t raised to run, Doc. Pretentious Doctor: Ah, yes. Raised. And who did raise you? Teddy: Bears.

For a while, all seems straightforward. Then Teddy confides to Chuck that he’s actually come there looking for a patient named Andrew Laediss, who was responsible for setting the fire that killed Teddy’s wife two years before. Gradually, one starts to doubt everything (and there was a point where all of the uncertainty got to be a little much for me) but the ultimate conclusion is a very satisfactory one.

Why Did You Lie? by Yrsa Sigurdardottir Set in Iceland, Why Did You Lie? starts out with three different storylines taking place a few days apart. The first involves a photographer on a helicopter journey to take pictures of a lighthouse on a rock in the middle of the ocean, the second is about a policewoman whose journalist husband has recently attempted suicide, and the third is about a family who returns from a house swap with an American couple to find some of their stuff missing and weird footage on the security camera. Of course, as the book progresses, these storylines converge, and it’s pretty neat when the police activity the helicopter flew over in chapter one turns out to be almost the culmination of the policewoman’s plot thread.

For some reason, I can’t help wondering how Ruth Rendell might’ve written this book. I think Rendell would’ve done a lot more with characterization, for one thing. There’s certainly some here, especially for the anxious husband who struggles to make his wife admit something really has gone wrong with their houseguests, but the primary concern seems to be getting on with the suspenseful action. Quickly, each plot features some kind of creepy lurker and then ominous notes (variations on the “why did you lie?” theme) figure in to all three, as well. Nina, the policewoman, digs around and talks to people and works out that everything connects to a supposed suicide from thirty years ago.

The result is certainly an entertaining book, but not one I could really love. One major issue I had is being able to predict something very significant. The number of characters who could’ve been angry enough about the 30-year-old lies in question to terrorize people in the present is very small. And once the existence of a certain person is oh-so-casually mentioned two-thirds through the book, I thought, “Oh, well, it’s them, then.” And then a little later, I figured out which of the characters it must be and I was right. This made for an anticlimactic ending that was clearly meant to be a shocking one. Also, I would’ve liked to have cared more that one character ends the novel poised to move on with life but, in reality, still in jeopardy.

I still would read more by this author, though.

By: Michelle Smith

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Ballsy

An idea from @starfruitspice about Rhys and Vasquez being in a meeting with Handsome Jack, only for there to be no seat for Rhys. So he plops his butt right down in Jack’s lap instead xD

Also on my ao3 here. :) My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here. 

--

It had been one year, sixteen days, three hours, and forty-seven minutes since Rhys had first met Handsome Jack in the flesh.

Four months, eighteen days, and forty-five minutes after that first meeting, Jack had asked Rhys out to dinner.

And last night, laying underneath Jack after sating their need, Rhys laughed and brushed sweat-damp hair from his face, stress relieved and worries comforted as Jack patted his ass and told him he’d take care of everything.

There was a meeting tomorrow for his department heads, and it wasn’t good.

He’d been pulling a lot of late nights to handle the excess problems that had been piled upon him by middle-management, or specifically, his arch-nemesis Vasquez. Work that had been necessary-- high-priority even- and neglected by those who should have delegated the issues better.

Jack was… Well, livid didn’t quite cut it, but he was definitely upset by the vulnerabilities that Helios had had for far longer than they should have. Stuff that could have easily been exploited by anyone with a decent set of hacking skills and the time to do so.

Luckily, no such thing had happened as of yet, and Helios was still flying high in the sky, safe and sound as Rhys worked himself ragged trying to apply the equivalent of a bandaid to patch the gaping holes in basic security.

It was far more than one man could do alone, and much too late. And to make matters worse, he was given an impossible deadline with the caveat that should he not finish in time, it would be on his head.

Basically, Vasquez was taking advantage of his higher position and trying to-- at the very least- get Rhys fired… possibly from a cannon.

The bastard had taken the position that should have been Rhys’ several months back, due to a few coincidences and plain-out ill-timing, and not only was the bearded man incompetent, but apparently he could hold a pretty solid grudge as well, even if he’d gotten what he wanted.

Vasquez had been baiting Rhys for weeks, trying to set him up for failure only for the other man to already head him off with upper management. But this, though… This was gross incompetence at its finest.

Rhys had maybe had a little undignified breakdown on his comm with Jack, the older man asking where he was when he missed their movie date, and Rhys was still at the office far later than anyone who valued their sanity and sleep should have been. And that’s when everything had come to a head, and he rambled about deadlines and grudges and wanting to perform well, and Jack had told him to leave it all and meet him at his penthouse.

One enthusiastic round of sex later, and the younger man was feeling way better about things.

“Why don’t you just let me handle that douchebag, babe?” Jack said as he kissed about the younger man’s neck, getting pleased little huffs from Rhys.

“I told you from the start that I didn’t want special treatment,” Rhys said as he looked over his shoulder, meeting the arched eyebrow on Jack’s face. The older man’s unimpressed expression made him chuckle. “I want to get ahead by my skills, not my connections, Jack.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a few connections for ya right here,” Jack laughed, pressing his hips into Rhys’ ass and making the younger man chuckle. It was too soon to go again, but didn’t mean Jack couldn’t make jokes or rub his soft cock against him. “...maybe in like ten minutes.”

“Just ten? That’s a little ambitious.”

“You little shit,” Jack said fondly, turning him over to kiss him properly. After he had the younger man sighing and humming in his throat, Jack broke to look down at him again. “Seriously though, kitten. Old wallethead has been begging to be taken down a peg or five. I thought you said that office should be yours.”

“Well, yeah…”

“Rhysie…” Jack sort of chuckled, though it was ill-spirited. “When they stop playing fair, you stop playing fair.” That got a smirk out of the younger man at least, and Jack grinned. “Want me to feed him to the lab animals in R&D?”

The idea made a smile play about Rhys’ lips. “No, maybe not that.”

“I can make an accident happen,” the older man proposed with a wicked grin. “Something involving life support systems… but more fun.”

The idea made Rhys chuckle, tempting as it was. But his ego wouldn’t allow for something so simple. “I don’t want to take the position the same way he did, Jack.”

“Aw, baby, you want the peons who work for you to trust you? Love you?” That got a roll of the eyes and a huff from the younger man. But Jack wasn’t deterred. “We could always go public, buttercup. No one would think twice about crossing you if they know you’re with me. Not to mention all the mid-day office sex we could be having.”

Rhys snorted. “More than we already have now?”

“Hey now cupcake, it’s been, like, weeks since I last bent you over a desk.”

“Well I’ve been busy cleaning up that security issue.”

“And I told you I can make it all right. Vent the idiot that’s pushed this all on you and give you his office. I could even do it right now. Whaddya say, Rhysie?”

The temptation was real, but it was important to the younger man he accomplish this on his own.

He’d never said it aloud, and he didn’t think Jack didn’t know, but the older man was still his hero. Even if they were fucking, and spending quality time together-- and Rhys had gotten to know the man behind the image- he still looked up to Jack; still wanted to be like him. Jack had taken what he wanted, yes, but he’d fended off Dahl on his own. He’d proven his skill and worth to the company, not only to take the position he had now, but to keep it. And regardless of how much Jack told him his worth, he needed to prove it to himself through his own trial of obstacles.

Vasquez was his Dahl; he needed to know he could achieve things through his own means. It was harder than employing dirty tricks, yeah, but much more satisfying.

“That’s really sweet, Jack.” Rhys’ voice was soft, touched by the sentiments. But no, he still didn’t want to ride the CEO’s coattails. “But I just-- I want to know I’m good enough.”

“Aw baby, you’re definitely good enough. Just ask my dick.”

“Jack.”

The stern tone warned the older man against pushing his luck, and though it was frustrating, he got it. “Fine, have it your way. Keep up all this unnecessary secrecy bullshit and make it all harder. Not including my--”

“Finish that sentence and I’m going to sleep.”

“My uh, my work productivity,” Jack amended playfully. He dropped the subject all together at the smile and roll of eyes that garnered him, and instead decided to kiss the frown from the younger man’s face. “What do you say to round two, pumpkin?”

“I’d say, has it really been ten minutes?”

Jack couldn’t help the ugly snort of laughter that left him, muttering about how he could get his dick up just fine, and he’d make the younger man regret his words.

And at the very least, it did help to make Rhys feel better. He slept more soundly that night than all the weeks previous, not knowing more problems awaited him tomorrow.

--

“Theeeeere you are, cupcake. Finally chose to grace us with your presence, huh?”

Jack’s booming voice made Rhys inwardly roll his eyes as he finally made it to the CEO’s office.

Rhys hadn’t been told he was going to be a part of this meeting, and the smirk on Vasquez’ face told him it was every bit as intentional as he suspected.

Apparently, everyone in the department knew about the personnel change except for Rhys. Upper-management were busy scrambling against a minor data hack that required their attentions and clearance, and Rhys was stuck on the roster in their place with Vasquez. Over three hours ago.

Part of him wondered why Jack hadn’t messaged him about this some time in the past hour, and the other part wondered if the CEO had even known about the change. Certainly he would have said something; let Rhys know about the brewing storm since it was, after all, his decision to keep their relationship a secret, and he’d be in the man’s office as an employee, not his lover.

Then again, judging by the shit-eating grin on Vasquez’ face, this was yet another attempt on his job, and Jack was probably just as surprised as Rhys.

The glare Rhys shot Vasquez was nothing short of venomous as he strode into the office, the click of his heeled boots echoing off the marble floors while Jack’s grin only grew.

“We’ve been having a nice long conversation about you, kitten. A nice, involved conversation,” Jack told him as the younger man brought up to stand before Jack’s desk, somewhere near Vasquez.

“Is that so?” Rhys said quietly, shooting a look at Vasquez’ smug face as the bearded man looked far too pleased for someone responsible for leaving Helios and Hyperion open to attack.

“You’re over an hour late, Rhys,” Vasquez self-important voice drawled, a look in his eyes that was giddy with anticipation as he more or less threw his underling under the bus. He turned back to face the CEO, a look that seemed to say ‘see what I mean?’ on his face. “His work ethic is usually better than this, sir. Though I wish I could say the incompetence is new.”

Rhys could feel his face heat with fury. This was more than laziness, more than plain old competition and a grudge. Vasquez was actively trying to get him killed here. And had he not been secure in his relationship with Jack, he might’ve been scared he would’ve.

But no, Jack knew what was happening. He knew the situation. And furthermore, he knew that Rhys wanted to handle this on his own. It was the only reason the older man hadn’t sent this dirtbag down the corpse hatch his chair was halfway hovering over.

“Rude, too,” Jack added to Vasquez with a smirk aimed at Rhys. “Been in this meeting a full five minutes and still standing. Have a seat, buttercup.”

Rhys minorly frowned in confusion, wondering what Jack was up to and where he intended for Rhys to go.

There was only the one chair in front of Jack’s desk, clearly taken from a set further to the right where a couch and matching chair were set up as a kind of inner-office lounge. There were normally no chairs in front of the CEO’s desk, this he knew well. Did Jack want him to fetch his own? No, more likely he was trying to push Rhys into taking Vasquez’ seat, if not testing him to see if he’d sit on the floor. Or maybe kill the man right there in what would have been a poetic homage to Jack’s own snatch of power.

Well, Rhys chose to do none of those things, but he did choose his plan of action.

The surprise on Vasquez’ face quickly turned to cold panic as Rhys approached the CEO’s own desk, a look of surprised confusion on Jack’s face before he realized what it was the younger man intended to do. Jack leaned back in his chair, barely able to keep the smirk from his face as Rhys rounded the desk only to plop himself right in the CEO’s lap.

Jack wasn’t ashamed to admit the little demonstration gave him a boner right there and then, because the sheer brass balls on Rhys to make such a power move in front of his boss impressed the shit out of the CEO. He didn’t know what kind of game this was, or how the younger man wanted to play it, but boy was he ever game.

Jack huffed a little laugh, placing a hand on Rhys’ thigh as the younger man met his eyes before turning his gaze away. Never before was the temptation to fuck the younger man over a desk so alluring-- present company an audience or not- but Jack pushed the impulse back, turning his own smirking grin on the pallor of the bearded man sat down before them.

“And here I thought you said he wasn’t a team player,” Jack said with utter amusement, his hand giving Rhys’ thigh an appreciative squeeze.

“I- I ah- I-I-”

Jack chuckled as Vasquez stuttered, his face looking all the more white and bloodless against the black of his beard. Again, he felt a surge of pride for Rhys… or maybe that was just his dick. He was sure Rhys could feel him hard beneath that lovely ass parked in his lap. Oooh the things he wanted to do to the younger man… but it would have to wait.

He lazily stroked Rhys’ thigh, getting close enough to his crotch that Rhys shot the older man a warning look, but Jack only chuckled. Not like wallethead could see anything from where he was sitting anyways.

“Anyway, now that we’re all seated,” Jack said with a gleeful little smirk, “Care to explain to me how your department let a gaping frickin’ hole develop in our security protocols?”

Vasquez’ eyes shot to Rhys’ face before looking at the CEO and back. He was clearly out of his element here. Every possible way he’d imagined this meeting could have gone, and not once did something like this even enter his wildest dreams.

“The uh… t-the vulnerability was small when we--”

“Small, huh?” Jack asked, his hand stilling on Rhys’ thigh as his eyes narrowed at the bearded man. “You could drive a friggin’ truck through the size of the hole in our security!”

“B-but it was--” Vasquez’ eyes went to Rhys, full of fear and lacking the bravado of one who would pull such a stunt on him. He immediately tried to shift the blame. “The problem was small when Rhys here was assigned to--”

“When were you assigned to this problem, buttercup?” Jack immediately asked, turning his attention on the man in his lap.

Though his tone was soft, Rhys wasn’t dumb. Jack was furious, and the question was serious, vital to the livelihood of everyone on the station. Rhys wrapped his hand around the one Jack had on his thigh, and gave his hand a squeeze. “Three weeks ago, sir.”

“Three weeks, huh?” Jack turned his attention back to Vasquez, who was visibly sweating now. “Didn’t you say you had your team working on it since last month?”

“I-I- I uh, there’s-- I-It’s been a busy month, sir,” Vasquez sputtered out.

Jack’s hand left Rhys’ thigh to lean forward, grabbing an echotablet on his desk that had the details of the hole in security that was currently being exploited. He exhaled through his nose as he read over details, and Rhys raised a brow at Vasquez, as if to really let it sink in that he was alone in this matter, and Rhys wouldn’t be helping him. “Hm… and yet right here is the memo from one of our engineers letting your department know about the problem… Two months ago.”

“H-Handsome Jack, sir, please, there’s-- There’s clearly some, ah, miscommunication here-- Rhys--”

“Oh reeeeeally now, wallethead?” Jack threw the tablet back on the desk, leaning forward enough that Rhys had to lean back to get out of his way. The CEO chuckled dangerously, his hand back on Rhys’ thigh just a bit too tightly. “Because the way it looks to me, is that your incompetence-“

“T-The problem was supposed to be solved by Rhys--”

“And whose piss-poor management left a gaping freaking hole in the entirety of my goddamn space station?!” Jack’s snarl filled the whole of the office, not only outraged at being interrupted but also at the weak explanations he was being offered.

Rhys felt no small sense of satisfaction in the way Vasquez’ lip quivered, what little blood was left in his face now totally gone, leaving him whiter than a sheet. The grip Jack had on his thigh was bordering on pain, and his own heart was beating quickly with the adrenaline in the room, as well as with excitement and a small sense of accomplishment.

He didn’t even have to do much. Vasquez had incriminated himself plenty, and Jack apparently had all the evidence he needed of his inadequacy. No back-stabbing, no blackmail. It wasn’t at all too early to congratulate himself. If Vasquez started begging on his knees, it would only be the icing on top of the cake.

“H-Handsome Jack-- sir, please--”

Jack’s voice was dark with laughter, leaning back into his chair. “You don’t have anything better to say for yourself?”

His voice was far softer, and somehow it was so much more effective than any yelling the CEO could have done. Rhys squirmed under the hand he had on the younger man’s thigh, and Jack released his grip to resume slowly petting the younger man as he watched Vasquez sputter and stammer and make the same exact face everyone facing Jack’s wrath usually did.

Jack turned his attention back on Rhys, a dangerous grin on his face mixed with a sort of dark amusement. “Rhysie-- do you mind if I call ya Rhysie, buttercup?- What do you think I should do with this guy?”

Something pleased and self-assured unfurled inside the younger man, and-- burning and victorious in the satisfaction of it all- Rhys turned his attention to Vasquez before he looked back at Jack. “Well, sir, considering the absolute mess of things, and the seriousness of Helios’ life-support systems connected with our security--”

“Ah! Say no more, cupcake. Airlocking it is!”

“N-no Handsome Jack, sir! Please I-- Rhys! Rhys please--”

“Shut up you idiot, smart and handsome guys talking here,” Jack said, his hand again creeping up Rhys’ thigh to delve fingertips just between.

“I was going to say,” Rhys spoke up again, squeezing his legs together to stop Jack’s further exploration, “that since he created this mess, he should be the one to clean it up.”

Jack frowned a bit, not understanding as he looked at the pretty younger man in his lap. Vasquez was hardly skilled enough to patch everything, let alone on his own. He didn’t quite get how Rhys thought old wallethead could fix this mess. “IIIII’m not really followin’ ya, kiddo.”

Rhys moved his gaze back on Vasquez, relishing in the irony of it all as he couldn’t help the smirk that stretched over his face. “I heard janitorial had an opening.”

“What?!” Vasquez’ voice was indignant at the very idea, minor color coming back to his cheeks as Jack began to chuckle, totally ignoring the bearded man in favor of the one sitting in his lap.

“Janitorial, huh?” the CEO grinned, his hand moving further between Rhys’ legs before sliding all the way to his crotch. “Interesting. And I guess that would leave his job position vacant, wouldn’t it kitten?” Jack’s thumb rested just above Rhys’ cock in his pants, the older man cupping him with a wicked grin. Rhys gasped just a little at the pressure there, his attention from Jack’s hand only taken by the weak objection from Vasquez’ in his seat.

“B-but I’m not--”

“What was that?” Jack asked, a sharp look at Vasquez. A smile flashed across Jack’s face, gone as soon as it appeared. “That almost sounded like someone was ungrateful for not becoming the newest tourist to Helios’ orbit.”

“N-no sir, I just--”

“Good. Excellent. All settled then. Now get the hell out.” Vasquez frowed, sputtering as he looked at Jack helplessly. The CEO snarled at him, his hand giving Rhys a squeeze that made the younger man jump. “Do you have a death wish or something wallethead?!”

Vasquez jumped from his seat and ran, and Jack’s pleased cackles shook Rhys in his lap as they watched the bearded man flee.

“Damn, did you see the look on his face, pumpkin? Priceless.”

“Jack…” Rhys’ shaky laugh drew the older man’s eyes to his own, Rhys’ cheeks a little flushed as he grinned. “Your hand.”

The older man smirked. “What, this?” He gave the younger man’s stiffening cock a squeeze in his pants, chuckling. “Someone likes a little vengeance, doesn’t he?”

Rhys chuckled, ducking his face into Jack’s neck. Jack pressed a kiss to his neck, feeling Rhys’ smile in his own. “We really don’t have time for this, Jack,” Rhys said, though he pressed a kiss to the older man’s neck. “My department was fighting that breach of our systems when I left… and my patches will only hold for so long.”

Jack chuckled, shaking his head, and Rhys pulled away to look at him with both confusion and lust. “That was my little attack there, sweetheart.” Jack reached over Rhys again to fetch the tablet he’d thrown earlier. “Just a little something to make those asshats down there actually do their friggin’ jobs,” he said with a grin, fingers quickly dancing over the screen to pull up his own programming. “I’ve got a job for you too, sweetheart.”

“Mmm...Vasquez’ job?”

Jack snorted. “Well clearly, baby. But right now I was thinking something a little more hands on and more immediate.” Rhys gasped as Jack’s hand worked him through his pants, a little moan going through him as Jack chuckled. “Heh, that was a ballsy move there, pumpkin. Ballsy as hell. Sittin’ that tight ass down in the boss man’s lap right in front of that idiot… Christ that got me hard.”

Rhys only snickered, spreading his legs a little so Jack could further grope at him. A grin split his face thinking of the look that had been on Vasquez’ face as he’d fled the office. “Yeah, well… It seemed like the best thing to do.”

“Best damn decision anyone ever made,” Jack told him, kissing him and working the button at his fly. “He probably thinks you’re nuts, cupcake.” Jack stopped the hand he was working down Rhys’ pants, shaking with sudden laughter. “Can you imagine how that looked to him, baby? Holy crap, his face… Mmm you’re still full of surprises and I love it,” Jack finished with a kiss to Rhys’ jaw, delving his hand once again only to bring the younger man’s cock out.

“Mm Jack…” Rhys sighed out, pushing his forehead into Jack’s neck as his cock flexed in the older man’s hand.

“How’d you like to be bent over the boss man’s desk, buttercup?”

Jack’s voice was deep and lust-filled in his ear, the smile on his face apparent in his voice, and Rhys moaned as his thumb brushed over his cockhead. Didn’t sound like a bad idea to him, honestly. “It’s definitely been a while.”

“Been a while?” Jack’s hand stopped stroking him, and Rhys pulled back to give him a frown. “What do you call last night?”

Rhys snorted and rolled his eyes, a smile on his face. “I mean the desk part in particular, Jack.”

“Oooh gotcha!” The older man chuckled and pressed a kiss to the younger man’s cheek. He patted Rhys’ thigh. “Up, kitten.”

Rhys scrambled off his lap only for Jack to stand and embrace him from behind. His breathy snickers on the back of Rhys’ neck sent a pleasurable shiver up the younger man’s spine. The front of his thighs were pressed against the edge of Jack’s desk as the older man crowded him, and Rhys held Jack’s hands to his front fondly, sighing as the older man moved to again take his cock in hand.

“Seriously sweetheart, that was so friggin’ sexy the way you just sat right down,” Jack told him, pressing his own clothed cock into Rhys’ ass. “No one’s ever done that before. I’m gonna be thinkin’ about that for a long time.”

Rhys snickered and pressed backwards into the hardness Jack was grinding against him, moaning as the older man’s hand stroked him. “Jack come on.”

“I plan to, Rhysie,” he said with a laugh, nibbling Rhys’ ear and removing his hand from his cock to get his own pants down. He chuckled as Rhys looked over his shoulder in judgment over Jack’s hand off his cock in order to free his own. “That’s quite a pout on that cute face.”

“You’re taking forever,” Rhys whined, cock leaking and closer than he wanted to admit already, the high of Vasquez running from the office still surging through him.

“Mouthy, too,” Jack said with a grin, not at all put-off as he spread the younger man’s cheeks. Rhys properly bent over the desk, trying to urge Jack to fuck him already. Jack grinned as he rubbed his cock back and forth over the cleft of Rhys’ ass, wrenching impatient moans from the younger man. He fetched the lube from a drawer and dribbled a liberal amount over the younger man’s ass, lubing up his cock at the same time while a shiver went over Rhys.

A breathy laugh escaped Jack as his thumb skirted the younger man’s still-loose hole. “Someone fuck you within an inch of your life last night, baby?” Rhys moaned as Jack pressed his thumb in. “Someone handsome I bet…”

Rhys laughed, a lusty, breathy sound. “Jack please.” He pressed backwards, trying to get more of the older man’s thumb into him.

“Mmm eager, sweetheart? Let daddy take care of you.”

Jack was a little ashamed at how on-edge he already was, his desire to keep playing with Rhys warring with the desire to get his rocks off. He gave the younger man a smack to the ass that stole a sound from Rhys’ lips that made Jack chuckle. He then slicked up his cock and worked the tip in, wrenching a satisfied moan from the man under him. He pulled back only to work himself further, inch by inch as Rhys sighed in pleasure.

“Ahh yes yes yes,” Rhys spoke quickly, pressing back to get Jack deeper faster.

Jack bit his lip, the eagerness of the younger man and the novelty of fucking him over his desk for the first time in ages making him closer than he would have liked. He took Rhys’ cock back up in his hand, the short thrusts he gave moving deeper as he already felt his peak rising.

“Ah! Jack that’s so-- mmm….” He was going to come. He was going to come, and embarrassment and the fact that Jack would most likely poke fun at him did not deter his orgasm.

“What, close already?” Jack huffed, his thrusts becoming haphazard as he was quickly reaching his peak. His hand sped up on Rhys’ cock. “It’s like no one’s-- ah-- no one’s been giving you the good stuff-- ah yeah--”

At Jack’s next thrust, Rhys was gripping Jack’s desk for purchase as he was coming in spurts over the hand stroking his cock. The older man was groaning hard as he ground himself against Rhys’ ass, shaking as he released into the younger man.

Rhys laid boneless against the desk as Jack laid heavily upon him, kissing his neck and chuckling. Jack wiped his hand on Rhys’ pants, the younger man murmuring his name in annoyance, but he returned the squeeze Jack gave one of his hands. Jack pulled out with a groan to sit back in his chair, tugging Rhys with him with little mind for his release still leaking out of him.

“Mm a good desk-fuck was just what the boss ordered.”

“We’re a mess, Jack,” Rhys pointed out, though he chuckled and leaned into the older man’s chest. He tucked his soft cock back into his pants, sighing with so much satisfaction it wasn’t even funny.

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo. No one’s gonna see it from your big new office anyways.”

Rhys snorted. “If you think I’m walking back in these pants, think again.”

Jack snickered and pressed a kiss to his neck. “Well, guess you can just hang out with me and patch this damn hole in my space station.”

A grin took Rhys as he leaned his head back on Jack’s shoulder, exposing an amount of his neck the older man decided to worry with his teeth. It made his voice light with extra satisfaction. “It’s too big just for us, Jack.”

“Excuse you, baby, but just who do you think you’re sitting on top of?” Rhys chuckled, and Jack gave his thigh a pat. “If those idiots in upper management don’t start pulling their weight, we’ll just give you a bigger office and a bigger raise.” Jack huffed under his breath with annoyance. “Those morons better have gotten something done since this morning.”

“...I wouldn’t call the morning a complete waste,” Rhys said, self-pleased with how everything had gone.

“Yeah, well, honeymoon is over, sweetheart. Get that ass up and let’s fix this shit.”

There’d be time for cuddling and all the sweet-shit Rhys knew Jack secretly loved after the security issue was better dealt with. For now though, they had serious work to do.

Rhys rolled his eyes at the quick way Jack was shunting him off, but got himself up with an optimistic smirk.

kofi | ao3

[aeternallis]

Title: The City of Nightless Blossoms // Chapter III

Series: Owari no Seraph Pairing: Hyakuya Mikaela x Hyakuya Yuuichirou Rating: M (18+) Summary: The year is 1814. Isolated from the rest of the world, and under the strict military rule of the Tokugawa Shogunate, Japan successfully enters a period of social and economic stability, ending the political upheavals from centuries past. Even so, beneath the veneer of peace lies corruption amongst the ranks of government, excess and decadence, and the threads of the established social order slowly beginning to unravel.

Hyakuya Yuuichirou is a young samurai from the daimyo house of Hiiragi, a powerful vassal to the current shogun. Vowing his allegiance to the master who had taken him in as a child, Yuuichirou soon finds his loyalties torn when the childhood friend he’s been searching for abruptly turns up…as a member of a rebel group looking to dismantle the current regime.

AO3

Shimogyou-ku, Kyoto, Japan

May 1814 (Bunka 11)

When the first rays of the rising sun delicately landed on his face through the open window, azure eyes blinked awake in gradual alertness, lifting a hand to brush away the strands of golden hair that had draped over his line of vision. The covers of the futon he currently lain in had long twisted away from the rough and tumble of lovemaking, eventually making its way onto the cold tatami mats. His smooth legs exposed to the chill of the morning hours, the blond couldn't help but shiver, drawing his legs close together so he could maintain what little warmth his thin yukata provided.

At his side, the torn remnants of his black and gold obi were crumpled in a sad heap, and he made a mental note to inform the okami later that day to add the replacement charges onto his patron's next bill; that sash alone had cost him a fortune, and he wasn't about to let this clumsy oaf of a man he had called "husband" last night get away with his brutishness.

Mikaela bit his lip in contemplation, massaging his temples while his eyes remained sharp with sternness and precision mentally calculating how much he should suggest to the okami in regards to charging interest, clicking his tongue when he came up with a reasonable sum. Along with the fact that the cloth was no longer salvageable, and really—just for the way he was crudely manhandled last night when his patron had pulled at his clothes in a drunken stupor, nothing less than triple the original cost would do.

With a nod and a quiet, satisfied sigh, his gaze absentmindedly wandered around the luxurious, tawdry room, taking in the velvet tapestries of red and orange that hung on the far wall. At the sight, his nose wrinkled in disapproval; despite his cultured tastes with fine clothes and beauty products, he was nothing if not a traditionalist at heart. He much preferred the simplicity of a home with minimal furnishings and the warmth of a hearth, rather than the inept way at which these idiotic merchants tried to display their money.    

Turning his head away, his eyes drifted to a serene painting of pelicans roaming across elegantly textured hills hanging next to the window. Somewhat surprised at seeing a painting so out of place within the room, the picture inexplicably lifted his spirits, enough to make him smile and forget about his annoyance with the torn sash.  

Letting out a quiet yawn, Mikaela tried to sit up, but instead immediately noticed the sickeningly sweet scent of bean paste and sake on his client's breath, soft snores blowing through his ear drums as the older man's arms abruptly wrapped themselves around his torso, his rough fingers pulling him into a tight embrace. Spooned against his burly chest, Mika had no choice but to lay still for a moment, rolling his eyes in impatience.

Closing his eyes, he brought a hand to gently caress his client's forearms, softly calling out to the other man, nudging him awake. "Lord Goshi, it's morning. Wouldn't you like to eat something for breakfast and start the day?"

His voice was soft and tender, full of artificial concern and attentiveness; a true actor in every sense of the word, he'd liked to think. Regardless, Mikaela willed himself to believe it, if only for the sake of maintaining his act and keeping his patron satisfied. This was, after all, a falsehood of his own making, a fantasy that he'd weaved expertly with his body and his words and his allures, all of it for his client's pleasure, with himself as the center of said dream world.

"Who are you supposed to be, my mother?" the other man grumbled, half in playful banter and the other half in seriousness (although Mika feigned innocence at that).

Mikaela lowered his eyes, his expression pensive. With his back pressed against the man's chest and his face turned away, the blond found that there was no need to hide the apathetic grimace of his mouth, that if he were allowed to be blunt with himself at that very moment, all he wanted was to shove the other man away from him so he could have the chance to gather his things together and get ready to leave.

Goshi Norito's allotted time with him had only been until midnight, and that was eight hours ago. Mika was in no mood to be giving away handouts, not when he could be doing other, more productive things with his time, instead of lazing about in this gaudy room. More than this, he wanted to go home and eat something more substantial than the food they'd fed him last night, which consisted of nothing more than cheap sweet buns soaked in sake and cold tea afterwards.

The servants who attended to them last night had given him unwelcoming looks, their displeasure at having to serve someone whom they thought was far beneath their station as apparent on their faces as his client's arousal was when the blond had finally discarded his robes, to parade himself in all his nakedness when it was time for his temporary husband to claim what he'd paid for.

For which case, Mika knew to himself that he couldn't entirely blame them. While the kind and gracious mistress of their household was away visiting her parents, their master was bedding whores left and right, his desire to rut as insatiable as a dog's.

He chewed his lip, trying not to scoff out loud in exasperation. The more his thoughts dwelled on the events of last night, the more he became increasingly indignant at the entire situation; he did not sacrifice years and years of training to be an established tayuu, of the precious time he could have spent living in peace with his family—only to be treated as a common prostitute in the end.

There was a vicious vindictiveness inside of him that wanted to be let out, desiring some sort of retribution to be paid to him for having endured the servants' disdain, if only to satisfy his own pettiness. He may be a whore, but he had his own pride to uphold, not just as a tayuu, but as a samurai. He would never allow himself to lower his eyes to the ground in deference just because he used his looks and his body for monetary gain.

Inwardly though, he sighed, knowing to himself that his stubbornness would get him nowhere in his current predicament. As a "wife" to this man, he expected complete obedience from him, a perfect copy of his real spouse in terms of her daintiness and mannerisms; Mika was more than aware of the fact that in order to keep on his good side, he would have to continue the farce of submissiveness.

So he kept the facade on for just awhile longer, until the servants could arrive and they've been given the go-ahead to serve their master his morning meal, in which case, he planned to make his escape then.    

"Of course not, my lord," Mika charmingly replied with practiced ease, lifting a hand to run his fingers over the other man's stubble, allowing for the latter to brush his lips past his wrist and towards his elbow. "But as your wife, it is my duty to—"

Before he could continue with whatever clever response he had on the tip of his tongue however, a loud knock was heard through the wooden shoji, and Goshi let out a frustrated sigh for having had what seemed like a promising banter with the blond interrupted, signaling for the servant on the other side to come in. The door slid open to reveal a maid holding two stacked trays of their breakfast, her eyes narrowed in an unreadable expression while she addressed her master, ignoring the other man in the room.

Not missing the glare that the maid had sent his way as soon as she opened the door, Mikaela dropped his hand to his lap as decorum demanded, hiding the amusement in his eyes while he lowered his gaze in acquiescence to her barging in on them.

His compensation for last night was given to him after all, Mika thought with some contentment. Of course, he was nothing if not fiendish for finding some level of diversion at watching the servant's evident unease with the level of intimacy that was so obvious between him and her master, but just this once, he allowed himself to indulge.

"Lord Goshi, I've brought you your meal," she stated in a somewhat passive tone, as if she were merely addressing a common farmer out in the streets. "The lady Mikaela's—that is, your guest's escort home had also arrived about an hour ago and is waiting by the front gate."

"Oh, it's you, Shigure. I didn't expect you to show your face this early," Goshi replied nonchalantly, scratching his chin as he made a move to sit up on the futon, adjusting his yukata so that he looked somewhat decent in front of his hired help.

"Not at all, sir. The mistress is due back from her parents' house in about two hours; I merely thought to remind you of it, so that you may be ready to welcome her home."

Mika's smile only grew wider, bringing the sleeve of his robe to cover his mouth, for which neither Goshi nor the servant named Shigure allowed to go unnoticed. While the master of the house tried to hide his own amusement, the latter's face could only turn red at having brought on an awkward silence between the three of them.

From the corner of his eyes, the blond noticed how the young servant had bitten her lip in embarrassment, without a doubt cursing Mikaela in the privacy of her mind.

Indeed, her timing couldn't be welcome at any other time. Mika nodded his head, turning his attention back to his patron. "Well then, my dear, it seems we will have to continue this another time then."    

He made a move to stand, letting the yukata he wore fall to his shoulders, so that it would be entirely clear to the one who had interrupted their moment that by no means was he a woman, but rather all male—his flat stomach chiseled and slim, his muscles broad and smooth, diligently earned through routine physical activity, but mostly hidden beneath folds of satin and silk on a daily basis.

This time, Shigure couldn't keep the shock from appearing on her face, and she let out a loud cough, turning her head away as she bowed to Mika in begrudging deference, her hands gripping the tray so tightly she may very well have been on the verge of getting ready to hurl the food across the hall.

Mikaela tried with all his might to keep from chuckling too loudly, lightly bowing to the servant in return as he moved away from the futon and proceeded to pick up his robes and hair accessories that littered the floor, leaving her to go about finally serving her master his breakfast.

When he had finally stepped out of the gate and strode near the waiting palanquin, the bearers who would bring him home crudely whistled towards his direction upon the sight of him approaching, their expressions coy and lustful, eyeing him up and down as if he were a piece of meat for all of them to feast on. Giving them the full onslaught of his glare however, they immediately muttered their apologies, assisting him while he crouched down to climb onto the lone seat. Silently, he pulled the worn curtain across the small opening of the cart and knocked on the shutters once to let them know that they could start making their way back.

The last thing he needed was to unintentionally let these fools think that they could make catcalls at him, and that he would give them so much as an acknowledgement for unwanted "flattery." He made a move to open his coin purse and threw them all a silver coin each to keep their mouths shut, hollering at them not to dawdle.

Afterwards, he pulled out the rest of the pins and combs that had been hastily clipped together in his hair while he'd prepared for his trip back to the tea house, loosening his robes while he rolled his shoulders to let out the tension that had gathered from last night's activities. Somewhat indifferently, he dumped the handful of hair accessories on the other side of the palanquin, letting his hair hang loose for a moment, before he pulled out a silk cord from his sleeve, tying his hair together in a low tail.

As he crossed his arms in an effort to relax and ease his mind after having had to deal with a rough morning with his patron and the insufferable bearers, the gentle lull of the rocking cart eventually made him feel drowsy, and soon, his eyes had drifted closed, his breathing even and relaxed while he tried to look forward to the warm bath that would be waiting for him as soon as he arrived.

Before he could fully doze off to sleep however, he heard the heavy stomp of footsteps coming closer from outside, and he jolted awake, his annoyance coming back at full force. Letting out a loud scoff, Mika gritted his teeth, parting the curtains halfway to see the source of the noise, the ire in his eyes obvious.

Just as he'd slid the cloth away, his gaze landed on the profile of a young woman with auburn-colored hair, the emblem of the Goshi family painted exquisitely on the side of her palanquin.

She looked refined and solemn, her cinnamon-tinted eyes distant as she watched the road ahead of her, the polished gleam of her hair clip catching the sun, while the kimono she wore was of a vibrant blue silk, stitched with green lilies. She was as noble as any high-born lady was, the features of her face feminine with a heart-shaped chin and rosy cheeks, brimming with subservience.

And yet, it was but a brief moment, their carts artlessly passing by one another just as quickly as they had met in the middle of the road, the moment of the atrocious almost-meeting between wife and lover fleeting all too quickly.

Mikaela's eyes had widened in surprise, before a mixed look of curiosity and contemplation settled on his face, reflecting back on the somber lady he'd seen.

So that was Goshi Sayuri, the wife of his bed partner from last night.

Rumor has it that the Lady Sayuri had not been Goshi's first choice of a wife when he had come of age to marry eight years ago; he had been helplessly in love with another woman, a servant of his household at that, and had planned to elope with her. As a means to survive while they searched for a place to settle down, he had taken a number of priceless jade and pearls from the family treasury, along with a large bundle of silk. He hadn't been very thorough about his spoils however, so it didn't take long for his family to figure out the clumsy heist.

Eventually, his father quickly found out about the sordid affair. As punishment for his son's reckless actions, he had the servant badly beaten and thrown out of the estate, without even the wages that were still owed to her.

She had not been seen since then.

The marriage between Goshi and the Lady Sayuri's family was arranged three months after the incident, apparently as a means to quell the rumors going around town. Still, it's the nature of gossip to circulate, like a weed of sorts, no matter what the circumstances. Despite the Hanayori family's trepidations about giving their daughter to the louse of a man like Goshi Norito, the pre-offered court position that was presented to Lady Sayuri's brother by the Goshi patriarch, as well as the coveted connection with a direct link to the Emperor's family, was too hard to pass up; in the end, they had sacrificed their daughter in order to cement their social standing.

And last night, while Goshi Norito's wife was away visiting her family, her husband was having an expensive dalliance with none other than himself.

He bit his lip at the last thought, feeling only the slightest ounce of regret shadow over his heart temporarily, before he shook the guilt away, casually flinging the concern out of his mind as if it were some insignificant consequence, burying it with other trivial matters.

As a loyal and paying customer, Goshi Norito was no different from the other handful of men and women he'd been with in the tenure of his career as a tayuu. So long as they had the gold and silver to pay for his services, therefore ensuring his place within the tea house, and in turn, his family's continued safety and well-being back in Edo, he had no scruples in sleeping with married spouses. In which case, it was none of his business anyhow; whatever marital problems the Lady Sayuri and her husband had, it was no concern of his whatsoever.

In the back of his mind however, he couldn't help but feel that his childhood friend would have probably reprimanded him for such a heartless outlook. Again, he shook his head fervently, letting out a weary, tired sigh.

'One day, it would all have been worth it, Yuu-chan. I promise...' he thought with earnest, almost fanatical hope, summoning the beautiful green eyes he so dearly loved inside his mind, remembering his innocent smile. 'Just awhile longer, and we'll be together again soon.'

For the rest of the way, the journey was quiet and uneventful, just the way he'd preferred it, without the fanfare that accompanied him to Goshi Norito's estate last night. The loud procession the okami of their tea house insisted on every time he was asked to make a house call grated on his nerves, the way the onlookers stared at him with either an awed look or cruel expression on their faces, his outward appearance enough to have some of the men's wives giving him chilling death glares.

While he had no problem sleeping with married clients, by no means was he trying to encourage adulterous affairs either. On the contrary, he trained himself from the beginning not to have much preference regarding his clientele. While he had his high standards, of course, the stature of their marital circumstances were of no consequence to him (although to anyone else who would have listened to his rationale, this was probably hard to believe).

Regardless, it was no use thinking of such things, when all was said and done. Shaking his head, he let out another loud yawn, and crossed his arms once more, letting the rocking of the palanquin soothe and quiet his mind and within minutes, drifted off to sleep, thankfully that time, uninterrupted.

The tea house was in a flutter of activity when he finally arrived, dismissively waving off the bearers to help themselves to some snacks and refreshments in the kitchens. While the loud plucks of shamisens by the new trainees echoed throughout the thin walls of the large estate, several of the maids were running to and fro past him, carrying bundles of folded kimonos, boxes of makeup, and hair accessories, assisting the courtesans who were due for their appointments soon with clients.

Still, it was rare for everyone in the house to be up and about, and wondering as to why there was so much commotion, wandered into his shared quarters with another tayuu, his brows lifting in surprise when he saw the petite young woman expertly gliding her hands through her long, pink tresses in front of the bronze mirror, weaving them in intricate loops through the patterned head piece she wore. The purple shawl wrapped around her back accentuated her slim figure, her posture elegantly arched while her feet were tucked beneath her, not the slightest hint of fatigue.

"You usually let the servants do your hair, Kururu. What's the special occasion?" the blond asked pleasantly enough, sliding the shoji door closed before he settled himself beside her, helping her braid a section that was already parted.

"You mean you don't know, or you're just being coy?" the small lady asked, giving him a skeptical smile for a moment, before turning her attention back to her head piece. "That has always been one of your many talents, Mika. You know how to play naive...whenever the occasion calls for it anyway."

When the tea house had first accepted him as a member of their household, they had all been taken aback that the small, foreigner child standing in front of them was actually a boy, fluent in their language and mannerisms. They had been fascinated with him, as if he were some creature from a menagerie, the women especially jealous of his smooth skin, the ethereal countenance of his looks.

The okami however, had been a different story, instantly recognizing his worth and upon inspection, immediately set about beginning his lessons, first with dancing and the shamisen, then his reading and writing, the art of conversation and body language. Spending his time day by day in this brothel, he learned the arts and techniques required to successfully seduce a worthy lord or mistress he deemed suitable to his tastes, and much more, of course, if they had the money to line his pockets.

Two years his senior, Kururu too was a foreigner, with her crimson eyes and her hair the color of ripe plums, hailing from the distant Balkan lands in the West, some aspects of her culture very close to his native Russia, at least from what he could still remember of it. Like his father and himself, she had also been stranded on the islands as a young child, along with her brother; she had been on a ship bound for the Raj when a sudden storm had taken the vessel off course, and she found herself washed ashore months later on exotic, Oriental lands.

Sharing that connection, she had taken him under her wing, teaching her newfound friend of the unspoken rules that were the absolute creed within the tea house, advised him of the deep-seated rivalries that went on behind closed doors between the men and women here, and about those who could be bribed easily for leads on new clients and information.  

In turn, the blond helped her with her studies, guiding her through the subjects that came more easily to him (reading and writing, no surprise), especially the numerous Chinese characters she needed to know in order to properly write and correspond her letters to her preferred clients.

It was a relationship founded on an equal need for one's own basic survival, one that eventually blossomed into a genuine reliance and indeed—respect for each other's talents. In a gilded world such as theirs where favor and gold coins were of equal weight and value, they both wisely recognized that merely being jealous of each other's strengths would achieve nothing and simply put, be detrimental to their goals.

Mikaela merely let out a smile in response to her tart remark, picking up a dark violet-colored ribbon to entwine within the delicate braid, looping it through one of the holes on the headpiece when he was finished. Standing up for a moment, he moved on the other side of her and picked up another section of her hair, casually continuing their conversation. "For once, I'll beg ignorance. I haven't seen you in a couple of days, so I honestly thought you decided to elope somewhere."

For a split second, Mikaela swore that he saw the latter's eyes darken in such a prospect, as if she'd been tempted by the Devil himself, but the look vanished as soon as it had appeared, replaced by a playful gaze, one full of amusement while the tassels pinned to her hair jiggled as she let out a snort and a chortle, although the blond couldn't tell whether she'd just taken him seriously or not. "Don't be so foolish. The okami would have my head for a large bounty if that ever happened."

Still, Mika went along with it, gently probing her a little more. "So where were you then? And where are you going now? I'm curious," he said with a more persuasive tone, giving her one of his charming, seductive smiles, one she'd personally taught him to employ more often.

She gave him one of her own sultry smiles in return, staring at his reflection for a moment, before finally answering his question—part of it anyway. "To your first inquiry, my lips are sealed. For your second question..."

She paused, the expression on her face becoming somber, unusually subdued. This time, she let out a slow, uneasy expression, bringing a hand to cover his own and lightly squeezing it, speaking once more after she'd let out an uneven sigh. "As to who I'm visiting tonight...it is none other than the Lord Hiiragi Kureto himself."

Mikaela's eyes widened at hearing the man's name, before his shoulders slumped, nodding his head in sympathy. "I see...in which case, I do hope you'll be careful then."

Kururu nodded her head and said nothing more, weaving the last of her hair through the metal band, her eyes concentrated on the reflection before her. For awhile, neither one of them said another word, while Mikaela watched her movements with appreciation; one of these days, he'll have to ask her if he can borrow the head piece, and try on the hair pattern for himself.

He stood up from where he sat, moving closer to the window to gaze out towards the streets, the throng of afternoon activity at full swing down below, geisha and street performers walking along with the crowds, the savory scent of fried squid and boiled dumplings making his stomach grumble with hunger. Perhaps in a little while, he'll go down to the kitchen and see if he can pilfer a riceball or two. While he had been invited to a private dinner with one of his clients later that tonight, and would no doubt be well-fed this time around, going with only a half-empty stomach was probably still the safer choice, in the event they chose to shortchange him too.

Nonchalantly, his thoughts drifted to Hiiragi Kureto, discreetly looking over his shoulder, his eyes quietly watching as the pink-haired woman began to apply her makeup, abruptly picking up a bell and ringing it loudly so that a servant came rushing into the room within minutes to assist her.

While he's never actually entertained the powerful lord himself, the rumors in Shimabara were rampant about the aforementioned man, half of them believable, but none of them especially reassuring. As the first son and heir to the noble family Hiiragi, he had all the wealth and privilege afforded his rank, but none of the restrictions (that was reserved for his half-sister, the yamato nadeshiko, Mahiru). A man of otherworldly tastes, he bedded both men and women, whoever had the occasion to strike his fancy. On the surface, he was a natural gentleman, charismatically mysterious and charitable to those lucky enough to earn his favor.

But there were other, seedier rumors as well; many often whispered that he was a secret spy for his family, and whatever dirt he had on someone, noble or commoner, were usually more than enough for his father, the noble Lord Tenri, to make a move against them. And to the oiran population of Kyoto, this was notably troubling, considering the fact that they have all entertained more than their fair share of the Emperor's and shogun's officials and could just as easily be incriminated, should they ever be caught in a scandal with their clients.

Many often called him the Snake of Kyoto, a dark, perplexing persona that no man or woman would ever be able to handle. And as much as it pained him to admit it, the thought of his own vulnerability against said man made him lurch with uneasiness, knowing that all that he'd ever sacrificed and worked for, could easily be overturned by his rumored shrewdness.

If he remembered correctly however, this would be Kururu's third time entertaining the Lord Kureto. While he's never had the occasion to broach the subject with her, he licked his lips uneasily, waiting for the servant to finish up her task of lining Kururu's eyes with gold paint, before he decided to carefully broach the topic.

"Are you fond of him...?" Mikaela asked quietly, moving into a corner of the room and sitting himself comfortably against the tatami once more, his eyes following the movement of her hands as she swept the brush of rouge against her lips.

"I'm as fond of him as I am with all my other clients," she replied in a monotone voice, one that the blond couldn't help but chuckle at. She tilted her gaze towards his direction, pouting when he just continued to giggle to himself.

"And what do you find so funny?"

"You," he replied without a second thought, straightening out his shoulders, folding his hands within the sleeve as he met her gaze. "You told me earlier that my talent lies at knowing how to be coy, but thinking about it now...you were my teacher, after all."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, before she laid down the brush and let out an annoyed sigh. She stood up and walked over to her chests, pretending to mull over which comb would look best with her head piece. "What did you honestly expect me to say? I neither hate him nor like him, he's quite frankly the same as all the rest."

"But is he kind to you? Is he...a good lover?" he probed a little bit deeper, refusing to turn away when she turned her head sharply towards his direction, her hair whipping, her eyes as sharp as the kunai he kept hidden in his chests.

"What are you trying to imply? That I can't satisfy him enough to satisfy me in return?"

"Nothing of the sort," Mikaela shrugged, giving her another smile of his, holding up his hands to defend himself. "I don't mean to imply anything like that. Only that...I hope you will keep yourself on your guard, for all of our sakes here."

"That goes without saying, doesn't it?"

"Of course. I know it does," Mikaela replied with playfulness in his voice, moving close to her once more and leading her back to her mirror and paints. Encouraging her to relax, he grabbed the small brush and lifted his hand to tilt her chin upwards, stroking her cheekbones with a flourish of color, the magenta rouge creating a pretty gradient with her light skin. When he was finished, he closed the case of powders and moved away, letting her do the finishing touches on her own.

After a little while, she stood and moved to tie the large sash in front of her kimono, making sure that were no blemishes or imperfections to her makeup, tightening the pins curled around her hair. She licked her lips, making the paint glisten and luscious enough to kiss.

Then she spoke, quietly this time, but all the same startling him from his reverie.

"He is kind..." she began, finally answering his question from earlier. She continued to inspect herself in front of the mirror, turning this way and that, a certain aura of vainness emanating from her desirable, haughty expression. "As kind as any man could be who chooses to openly bed a whore, while it's generally known that he's engaged to another woman."

This piqued the blond's interest, and his eyebrows lifted in response to her comment, for which she deftly ignored and continued on.

"Didn't you know, my dear Mika?"

"No, I couldn't say I do. Who's the lucky lady?" His voice was full of sarcasm, the biting wit ready to leap from the tip of his tongue.

She looked around for a moment, making sure that no servants or maids lurked outside their room, before she walked over to where the blond sat, crouching low so she could whisper in his ear. "Well...here's some piece of news you don't hear every day: in public, he's known to be engaged to the Lady Sangu Aoi."

Mikaela blinked in confusion, turning his head to look into her eyes, peering into their depths. "'In public'...? What's the purpose of a sham engagement?"

"The answer is simple enough," she giggled, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her outfit. "To hide something, obviously, for what other purpose could it have?"

"What in the world could they possibly hide behind a fake pledge of marriage, it doesn't make any sense."

"It doesn't...unless..." she paused, waiting for the other man to figure it out on his own, her face not bothering to hide the fact that she was having fun with their little guessing game of intrigue. Moving behind him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her chin on his shoulder. "You're a lot smarter than this Mika. Surely you can figure it out."

The blond ignored the way the other woman made circular motions with her index finger on his chest, bringing a hand instead to his chin, his eyes concentrated on a spot on the tatami mat while he tried to wrack his brain for an answer to a situation he found very odd indeed.

Nothing in his mind could really justify anything that could be well-concealed behind a fake pledge; to be brutally honest, marriage in general was as fickle as the direction of the wind. Faithfulness in one was like trying to locate a needle in a hay stack, a thing of such rarity as to be almost considered myth in their society. If anything, a sham engagement wouldn't really be able to hide anything of value and in and of itself, could simply be a camouflage for—

He lifted his head abruptly, letting out a small gasp as his eyes widened in understanding, turning to look over his shoulder as he voiced his suspicions. "In public, he's engaged to Lady Aoi, but in reality...he's engaged to someone else."

It wasn't a question coming from his lips, but rather a confirmation. "The engagement to Lady Aoi is a front for his real marriage plans."

Kururu nodded in giddiness, twirling a lock of Mikaela's hair between her fingers. "Yes, that's right. He actually plans to marry his other half-sister, the Lady Shinoa."

Mikaela's mouth curled in disgust for a moment, before he remembered himself, letting out a loud cough while his cheeks turned red at the prospect of such a foreign idea to him; even now, there are still such things that confounded him about this island country's unusual ways. "His own flesh and blood in matrimony...it's quite difficult to imagine. Given his reputation however, it's not difficult why he'd make such a decision for himself."

Kururu giggled once more, running her hands down his chest, but before she could pry open his gi, her fingers were politely stopped by his own, and she gave him a sour expression, before moving away, her pride slightly injured. Regardless, she ignored it, her voice coming out as distant, if not somewhat impressed. "Once you've caught on, it doesn't take long for you to fit the pieces together. How enviable a talent that is."

"You flatter me, but as always, it's hard to take it to heart."

Kururu turned to look over her shoulder, her voice as seductive as the scent of her perfume. "I flatter for flattery's sake, that is all. In the end, it's up to you to take it or leave it."

Mikaela shrugged at her words, choosing instead to appreciate the color combination of her kimono, making a mental note to himself to copy it for another time.

"Well...I think it's about time for me to go and entertain my dearest Lord Kureto," she announced, ringing the bell to summon a servant to fetch the bearers and the okami. "What do you think, Mikaela? Do I look beautiful today?"

The blond nodded his head in agreement, giving her his approval. "Very much so. I imagine that when you step outside the gate and into the streets, all the jealous women will want to gouge your eyes out before you have the chance to ensnare anybody, let alone the Lord Kureto himself."

Kururu couldn't help but laugh out loud this time, her voice echoing outside their room for anyone to hear her. "Then by all means, I am ready."

The bamboo forest behind the large tea house provided him with the perfect sanctuary he personally found much more preferable to a local dojo while he practiced his kata. The air was crisp and clear here, the wind rustling through the smooth leaves, the scent of fresh grass and greenery comfortably blanketing his environment. There was not a cloud in sight, and the large grove provided a wonderful shade so that it was relatively cool, and thus, there was no need to worry that his skin would gain any unsightly sunspots from prolonged activity outdoors.

Effortlessly, he posed in a traditional fighting stance, the sheath of his katana and wakizashi secured perfectly on his hip, sweat dripping down the back of his neck as he slashed his way through imaginary enemies, his senses fully alert.

He expertly cut through the air, the sounds of his swords' movements gratifying in his ears, his strikes ringing like faraway bells. Though Guren had granted him his genpuku gifts months ago through his future brother-in-law, the Lord Shinya, by no means would he allow himself to become lackluster in the art of the sword, merely because he'd finally earned the coveted title of "samurai."

A code of honor, Mikaela liked to think to himself, to live by. And though the sword and the daily practice of mastering a killing weapon was inherently different from his life as a tayuu, a strange contrast to his penchant for makeup and fine cloths, the blond nonetheless loved the vigorous activity of training. It was comical, in its own way; while many knew his gender as a trained courtesan, there were only a few souls outside the tea house who knew that he was also a swordsman (though there were even less people, both in and out of the estate, who knew he fought in the name of Ichinose and their main standard).

Besides, his daily regimen of performing his kata out in the woods was something he genuinely looked forward to, away from the intrigues and resentments of the tea house where he had a few blessed hours to himself. Here in this forest, he could clear his thoughts, and let his mind wander away, and within this privacy he created in the world of the bamboo forest, he could indulge himself with thoughts of his family, the hope burning in his heart kept alive with his fervent desire to reunite with them soon.

'Akane may be getting married soon,' he thought fondly to himself; Guren had sent him a missive about a month ago that another man under his tutelage, one who went by the name of Saotome Yoichi, had been taken in with his adopted sister and that they were currently courting. While they've only had a brief exchange of letters here and there, he distantly remembered Shinya describing the younger man to him: gentle, playful, and somewhat proficient with a bow and arrow.

Whether the courtship would come to anything or not, he hoped that Akane would nonetheless be happy with the prospects of a potential husband. She'd always had a nurturing nature, deeply instilled in her as the eldest female of their family; having a child of her own would be a blessing for her, indeed.

And yet, despite his quiet, well-wishes for her, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of melancholy cloud over his meditations.

At this point in time, he was more than ready to admit that contrary to what Shinya has often commented about his cool, seemingly nonchalant attitude in response to having to live away from his loved ones, it wasn't that he didn't miss them. Far from it; only that, he has fought with himself so many times not to give into his anguish at having to live apart from them that the loneliness he felt had gradually become a familiar companion.

In other words, he was used to it.

Even still, though he was not there to share in his family's lives in these ten years, it was a sacrifice Mika was willing to painfully abide by, if it meant keeping them safe and secure. His bargain with Guren, always hanging as a dark cloud in the back of his mind, sometimes drove him to fits of despair, but thankfully, they never lasted long, the inner willpower he'd strengthened in these long, lonely years becoming a pillar of support to his heart.

So long as he had his periodic messages from his family's benefactor, his mind was at ease, for the most part, and he could focus on his end of the deal: maintain the pretense of a popular, but simple tayuu, while also acting as a spy on Guren's behest. In turn for keeping his family safe and under his wing, with the protection of the Ichinose name to guard them, Mika will be his eyes and ears, his secret agent specifically here in Shimabara, in which the red-light district was increasingly becoming the center of political intrigue.

His sword cut through a lose clump of leaves, his breath heaving in short pants while he continued his swordplay, the quick movement of his feet incredible to anyone who would have chosen to watch him.

He heard the distant rumbling of thunder far away, spotting the foreboding clouds. In the corner of his eye, the glossy sheen of a bamboo leaf caught itself under the sun's glare, creating a surreal color full of life, like the Tsar of his homeland's crown jewels, glistening so vividly. Glancing towards the leaf's direction, he let out a small smile, as if in remembrance.

There was one other reason he loved this grove so much, and he often thought to himself that if he could, he wouldn't have minded living his life here, surrounded by peaceful vegetation.

The lovely shades of leaves reminded him of Yuuichirou's unforgettable, vibrant eyes, his headstrong nature, the kindness in which he'd shown him when they first met. It was the memories of those short few years when they had lived together that kept his loneliness at bay, giving Mika the strength he needed to keep holding onto his hopes for the future.

"I miss you so much, Yuu-chan..." he murmured to himself as he stood up straight, lifting his face towards the sky as he took in the looming clouds up ahead, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. He took a deep breath, letting the fresh onslaught of rain wash away the grime of his training, the stain of dirt that had splattered from the intensity of his movements. The cool sensation of moisture surrounding him helped ease the tensions on his shoulders, and without a single care, brought a hand to pull the cord that held his long hair together, letting the strands of golden yellow fall on his back.

It had been Yuuichirou's birthday some days ago, and Mikaela had celebrated in his own way by writing a letter to him (unsent, of course), to wish him well on his coming of age, how he longed to see him, and as soon as his mission here in Shimabara was finished and over with, his Yuu-chan would be the first person he would set out to look for.

The letter was full of embarrassing, if not gaudy sentiments, as if he were some lovesick lover waiting for their lord and master. But the blond liked to think that he was a little more than a man with a crush on his best friend; the feelings had always been there, ever since they were young, but he had kept it secretly within the crevices of his heart, cherishing and nurturing it carefully, his own personal beacon of light.

He often wondered to himself how Yuuichirou was doing; in fact, perhaps it wasn't so farfetched to say that he was a little more than obsessed with him. Was he eating well? How was his training going with Guren? Did he love practicing with the sword as much as he did?  Mayhaps they can even be sparring partners in the future, the blond would so dearly love that.

...did Yuuichirou miss him, as much as Mika missed his best friend?

Mikaela's breath hitched, his chest aching for a few seconds before he calmed himself down, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, letting out deep breaths, counting slowly in his mind.

It was this accursed sort of thinking he often fought off, days at a time, afraid as he was to entertain such silly thoughts, or so he persuaded himself, for his Yuu-chan had always been a kind and sentimental boy, and he wouldn't be so cruel as to forget him...would he?

He closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping as he breathed in and out slowly, his concentration turned inwards to calm the beating of his chest, to find his balance once more.

Soon...so very soon, he would see him again. It was only a matter of waiting, really. And for these past ten years, that is all Mikaela has ever done. The waiting, the doubts and fears, the desolation that ebbed away at the edges of his sanity...they were all his companions for this weighty sacrifice he chose to burden himself with.

Mikaela let out an uneasy smile, barely registering the heavy rain that soaked him to the bone.

Yes...the waiting, for all the morbidity his situation encapsulated, has become something akin to a dear companion for him. For what it was worth, he could afford to wait just a little more.

It was mid-afternoon when he entered through the back gates of the tea house, his clothes dripping wet that for a moment as soon as he'd walked in, the servants had simply gawked at him, before they made their customary greetings, swiftly handing him some fresh towels to dry himself off with. While he gave them instructions to immediately prepare his robes for his evening appointment, he made a mental note to himself to be more careful in the future with the timing of his return from his training sessions.

Not many people ventured out into the bamboo groves all that often, but it wouldn't do good for some careless servant to accidentally walk in on him and suddenly find themselves watching while he trained. Besides that, the sight of a man with a weapon at his side was never really a welcoming sight to any of the attendants who knew nothing of the tea house's other functions.

Best not to frighten them, in any case.

Changing into a fresh yukata, he unrolled the futon that sat idly by the corner, letting his eyes drift off, taking advantage of the momentary peace and quiet he's been given before he needed to get ready for later that evening.

Just as he was about to give himself up into the throes of sleep however, he heard the flapping of wings by the open window, the sound of a pigeon's soft coos brushing away the remnants of his drowsiness. Rubbing his eyes, he walked over to the window where the bird stood patiently, especially trained to recognize Mika's location, tilting his head this way and that.

Petting the pigeon's head fondly, Mikaela took the small piece of parchment attached on the animal's left ankle, noting the distinct stamp of Guren's name. 'What does this old man want?'

He unrolled the scrap piece of paper and began to read:

'Yuuichirou will be arriving in Kyoto shortly. Prepare yourself.'

He blinked, not knowing what to think at first.

He paused, then took a deep breath, pausing again, before his eyes read the words once more; as if in a crazed, mindless state, he briefly wondered if he didn't hallucinate them, or perhaps he had died and this was a message sent to his spirit by the gods. When the words finally registered in his mind moments later, he let out a couple, disbelieving gasps, his eyes unblinking.

Lowering the note, he looked up at the ceiling, his expression still filled with an insupportable amount of shock.

He is coming here. To Kyoto.

His eyes brimming with astonishment, his mouth slowly stretched into a hopeful, buoyant smile, and he brought the note to his lips, kissing it lightly with what could only be described as devout elation.

So it would seem the years of endless, dreary waiting were finally coming to an end, at last.

'Yuu-chan.'

If you made it this far, thanks so much for reading! If you can spare a minute or two, I'd love to hear what you guys thought of the chapter!

Just a small note this time! :3

Tayuu - Although the term "oiran" meant that these group of male/female courtesans were considered upper class within the red-light districts of Japan, "tayuu" was considered the top dog title within the classification of "oiran". Tayuu had the luxury of picking their clients, and even rejecting them, if they so wished. Their services were usually four or five times higher than what a regular oiran charged and when they slept with their customers, they would temporarily gain the status of a "spouse." It was customary for clients to remain loyal to only a single tayuu, in order to avoid rivalries amongst the often too-prideful entertainers.

[kairoseok-blog]

i wanna touch, baby

Perhaps it was the way the two full cups of alcohol you downed a few minutes ago started to mess with your head, or perhaps it was the way your friends taunted you that pricked your ego to the point where you were mildly annoyed, but you find yourself taking a step towards him, hand finding its way to his nape before you pull him towards you.

When your lips are just about to touch, you sigh, "I'm going to kiss you now, try to at least make this feel good for the both of us."

genre: what do i even tag this as // college!au

word count: 2.8K

pairing: seongwoo x reader

a/n: let me know what you think! it really keeps me motivated :”)

"Come on," Jaehwan whines as you kick your running shoes off to the side, "you know the party will be absolutely terrible without you. Besides, you look good today."

Having the most sociable person on campus as your best friend is both a blessing and a curse. Kim Jaehwan is a human magnet, drawing people in with a charming smile and one of his frustratingly hilarious jokes. His ability to make friends with just about anyone earned him a permanent spot on invites to parties, which is why your time on campus has been anything but peaceful.

It is not as if you hate meeting new people or socialising with others, you just believe that there is a time and place for everything. With an important essay due in two days that you have yet to start working on, tonight is definitely not a night you can waste at a party. No matter how much you love dancing and having fun at parties with your friends, risking your near perfect grade does not seem like a good idea.

You shake your head at Jaehwan, who has his lips pursed and both hands on his hips. When he sees you trying to dart past him, he immediately slides in front of you, an incomprehensible noise leaving his lips.

He clicks his tongue in annoyance and stops you in your tracks, "you have to come, everyone else is going to be there."

A heavy sigh slips past your chapped lips and you cross both arms in front of your chest. Of course every single person in this goddamn school is going to the party. It is, after all, the party of the year. One that resident rich boy Park Jihoon throws at the end of a semester to kick off a number of smaller ones that will follow after. You frown as you think about how it usually ends with a bunch of people knocked out on the front yard of his house and the random pieces of clothing that will be found all over the place the next day.

"You know how important this essay is," you start to explain before two slight buzzes of your phone interrupts you.

[23:46] daehwi: r u coming

[23:47] daehwi: u better be on ur way

Jaehwan leans forward to catch a glimpse of the messages sent and smiles in triumph before saying, "I knew I could count on them to support me on this mission."

Your lips curve into a small smile and you can't help but burst out in laughter at the silly expression on his face as he rambles on about his noble cause. Jaehwan never fails to put a smile on your face.

"Quit with the dramatics, Jaehwan," you laugh before thumbing out a quick response to a very impatient Daehwi, who had sent about twenty different emoticons in just two minutes.

As you watch the speech bubble pop up on your screen, you mentally weigh out both decisions in your head. You can stay at home and finish the essay while everyone has fun without you, or you can head to the party which will only last a few hours given the time it is now and start on work when you get back. A day and an all-nighter should be enough for you to churn out a decent essay... Right?

Jaehwan stares at you expectantly, impatiently bouncing from foot to foot before pumping his fist into the air with a loud cheer when you begrudgingly mumble an 'okay'. He quickly pushes you into the bathroom, pulling out a dress from your closet and tossing it at you.

"You have half an hour to shower and get ready," he taps on the make-believe watch on his wrist, "you better hurry."

It takes you approximately twenty-five minutes to finish up, and you inwardly curse at the short amount of time your sorry excuse for a best friend gave you. With just two minutes left on the clock, you find yourself stumbling towards the door, slipping on your heels that have been at the same spot of your shoe rack for days now. Jaehwan hums in approval before trailing behind you, fingers busy typing out a text to the rest of your friends.

When the both of you finally pull up in front of the dimly lit house, you step out of the car and welcome the loud thumping of the bass and a vaguely familiar melody slipping through the cracks of the house. You squint your eyes in the dark and make out a few shadowed figures stumbling out onto the front yard, most probably drunk as hell.

The overplayed lyrics of what you recognise as an Ed Sheeran song hammers in your ears and you tut at the lack of quality music on the playlist. You make a mental note to have a long talk with the person in charge of the tunes tonight. Swiftly dodging a couple tripping over themselves, you roll your eyes at how they disappear behind the wall of the house. You decide to not imagine what they might be up to in the dark and slip through the front door, stepping into the very same house you've been in a few times now. Over the intelligible chatter and the roaring of the music, your ears register someone yelling your name before arms are thrown around you, catching you off guard.

"You're here!" Daehwi shouts, having to raise his voice so you can hear him over the music.

You break out into a smile and hug him back, giving him light pats on the head before the wind is knocked out of you by two more people rushing to give you a hug of their own. As Daehwi complains about how Jisung is terrible with alcohol, Sungwoon nudges you in the direction of where they sat. He then thrusts a plastic cup into your hands, flashing a toothy grin before chanting, "drink, drink, drink!"

Choosing to let loose for the night, you tip your head back and down the drink in one go. You aren't sure what is in it, but it only leaves a slight burning sensation as it travels down your throat. The one-shot is welcomed with a series of cheers and you raise your glass in acknowledgement before making your way to the kitchen to get a refill.

You find yourself in front of the designated bartender for the night, Park Woojin, who nods in greeting as he pours one of his crazy concoctions into your cup. You never really know what to expect when he mixes anything, considering the fact that he comes up with a new combination every single time.

"On duty tonight?" You ask as he pours himself a drink of his own, moving around the kitchen counter to sit on the stool next to you.

He lets out a hearty laugh, snaggletooth on full display and takes a sip from his cup.

"Worst position to be in on a night like this, but Minhyun owes me a favour and I might get him to take over." Woojin tells you, shooting an exaggerated wink at a girl who passes by.

Giving a friendly pat on the back, you yell a 'good luck' over your shoulder as you make your way back out to the party. You find your friends in the corner of the room, drawing on the face of an unconscious Jisung. Daehwi looks up as you arrive and wiggles his brows, turning back to continue drawing something that you can't quite make out.

Jaehwan moves to the side, nodding at the now empty space next to him and you plop down beside him. You spend a few minutes working on a doodle of your own, choosing to draw the peach emoji on Jisung's left cheek before deciding to let the rest continue having their fun. Glancing around the room, you snort at how the people on the dance floor are barely even dancing. Sweaty bodies grind against each other and you watch as some leave to the rooms upstairs, deciding to relieve themselves of pent up frustration.

"I'm bored," Daehwi proclaims, bringing your focus back to your friends, "can we play a game or something?"

Kicking his legs up onto Jisung, he leans back against the couch and traces circles on its velvet material. You take a sip of your drink and look at the rest of your friends, waiting for someone to come up with something, anything.

Just when you think that maybe you should go get a deck of poker cards, Jaehwan abruptly stands from his seat, a look of mischief on his reddened face. He downs his drink and slams his now empty cup on the table, shouting, "I say we play a game of dare or dare!"

His suggestion is met with a mix of responses, some people calling it a horrible and tacky idea, while some just shrug and flash a thumbs up. Within minutes, a group of seven people are rounded up and seated around the table, an empty beer bottle settled on top of it. You recognise all of them, having seen them in at least one of your classes.

"I'll start!" Jaehwan says, reaching forward to spin the bottle.

It takes awhile before the bottle finally lands on you, and you find yourself awkwardly rocking from side to side as your friends stare at you intently, determined to come up with a dare good enough to top those that have already been said. You didn't think that they would come up with anything that might be too difficult given the fact that half of the people were already drunk beyond belief, but of course, Kim Jaehwan is a force to be reckoned with.

He straightens up and shushes everyone, swatting blindly at the air to have everyone's attention on him. When he is finally satisfied, his lips curve into a sly smile as he states his dare for you, "I dare you to make out with the first person who walks through that door."

"You're losing your touch, Kim Jaehwan," you tease and send him a playful wink, "this is weak."

All he does is shrug his shoulders and laugh, watching as you shift yourself forward to spin the bottle. Honestly, how bad can it get? The worst thing that can happen is having that greasy, slobbery guy from psychology burst through the front door, but he never gets invited to parties anyway so you are pretty much safe. Which is why when the bane of your very existence steps through the door, your eyes widen in disbelief. If you weren't sober before, you sure as hell are now.

Ong Seongwoo walks into the house, two of his friends following behind him as they scan the area for an available spot. He has on a plain, white shirt underneath a midnight black jacket, paired with stone-washed jeans that accentuated his lean body. He has the kind of face that makes people pause in their tracks, an air of confidence surrounding him carried through with dark eyes that intimidate most people, but you absolutely hated him. Alright, maybe hate is too strong of a word to use on someone you barely know, but Ong Seongwoo has tormented you for months now and you don't even know why.

"Honestly, fuck you," you turn to glare at Jaehwan, who is hunched over laughing his heart out, "and fuck this game."

You slump in your seat and let out a groan of frustration. Can you get out of this? Maybe if you offer to buy their lunches for a month, they might choose to be good people and let you off. Thinking of ways to get out of your unfortunate predicament, you slump over the table and repeatedly knock your forehead against it.

Sungwoon snickers and pokes you in the side, "I wouldn't think about backing out, if I were you."

There are many reasons as to why you have developed a strong dislike towards Ong Seongwoo. For one, he seems to pick on you for every little thing even if it doesn't concern him. An example being how he had rebutted every single one of your statements or ideas in literature class just for the sake of pissing you off. Your fists clench at the memory of him carefully folding paper planes with his printed notes, sending them flying to hit you in the back of your head. You have no idea why he finds you a great target for pranks and tactless remarks, given the fact that you try to never give him the response you know he seeks, but his actions are enough to make you want to never meet him unless you absolutely have to.

Daehwi lets out a low whistle as you stand from your position, searching the room for Seongwoo. You finally spot him on the opposite end of the room, back turned towards you as he runs a hand through his hair. Determined to just get the dare over and done with so you can get back to living your life avoiding him, you make your way across the dance floor, squeezing through the gaps in the crowd.

You find yourself tapping on Seongwoo's shoulder, plastering a forced smile on your face. He turns and you watch as his eyes widen in surprise before he quickly downs the alcohol in his cup.

"Well, well," Seongwoo comments, eyes travelling from your eyes to your legs, "what do we have here?"

Perhaps it was the way the two full cups of alcohol you downed a few minutes ago started to mess with your head, or perhaps it was the way your friends taunted you that pricked your ego to the point where you were mildly annoyed, but you find yourself taking a step towards him, hand finding its way to his nape before you pull him towards you.

When your lips are just about to touch, you sigh, "I'm going to kiss you now, try to at least make this feel good for the both of us."

You then press your lips against his in a firm kiss, pushing him against the wall as you try your best to ignore the loud cheers that erupt over the deafening music. There is a slight buzzing in your ear, and you are not sure if it is the alcohol or the adrenaline from doing something like this. Seongwoo freezes for a second and you pull away, tilting your head in question as he stares back at you.

"You sure do look surprised for someone who does this all the damn time, are you not as great as they say you are?" You tease him, tapping a finger against your chin.

The sense of triumph is short lived, however, because you find yourself being pinned against the wall, dark eyes levelled with yours. Seongwoo has a hand gripped firmly around your wrist, a hold strong enough to keep you from fighting back, yet gentle enough to prevent it from hurting. You feel the steady thumping in your chest increase in speed and you startle at the way he makes you feel.

Seongwoo then speaks, tone even and controlled, "I urge you to not start something you can't finish."

You raise a brow at his statement and tilt your head up in defiance, staring directly into his eyes to show him that you are not intimidated. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you pull him towards you with a harsh tug, leaning forward so your mouth is brushing against his ear.

"Try me, Ong." You growl, before pushing him away from you in an attempt to spite him.

It might be a mistake to piss off the very man that can easily end you right then and there, but you are too far gone to care about the consequences of your actions. Seongwoo presses his body against you, and you find his lips on yours again. You stumble at the sudden force that knocks the breath out of your longs, hands gripping the sleeves of his jacket as he snakes an arm around your waist to hold you up.

The exhilarating rush of kissing him, someone you supposedly hate, causes you to feel lightheaded and absolute intoxicated. His tongue runs across your bottom lip and you barely register his hands tracing circles on your hip. Your brain is going off with a warning, telling you that to enjoy it this much means that you lose, but with rational thinking thrown out the window, you suppose that maybe losing once isn't too bad of an idea.

You unconsciously melt into his hold, trailing your fingers down his cheek to the side of his neck. Seongwoo gasps when your fingers brush the sensitive spot on his neck, and you take the opportunity to bite down on his lip. You then move your lips to his jaw, planting a trail of kisses all the way down to his neck. He hisses as you work on leaving a mark on him, and for a second the word 'mine' flashes in your head.

"F-fuck," he curses, and you thank him for distracting you from your thoughts, "stop doing that."

As you work your way back up to his lips, he slides his hand to the back of your thigh and squeezes it, causing a tingling sensation to shoot up your spine. You forget that you are in a room full of people, in which some are staring at the both of you, mouths hanging open in shock.

You smile against his now swollen lips, threading your fingers through his hair before crashing your lips against his again. He tastes like mint with an aftertaste of regret, and you know that continuing this any longer will result in you giving in to that selfish need for pleasure. Which is why the moment you catch sight of Sungwoon a few metres away from you flashing the 'okay' sign, you know it is time to go.

Seongwoo blinks his eyes open when he feels you pull away, frowning when you shrug and say, "thanks for this, you aren't too bad Ong."

To say that he is confused would be an understatement, and as he watches you walk back to where your friends are, he releases a shaky breath, slumping against the wall. Even as his friends come rushing over, drunk out of their minds, and make him down another cup of alcohol, his mind still travels to the way you challenged him with a dangerous glint in your eyes and how good it felt to have your body pressed so tightly against his. Never in his life has he ever felt so frustrated and he hates how you're laughing with your friends as if you did not just fuck him over minutes ago.

[empresskira]

15. Red riding hood fairtale au, with marcoacesabo?

Just came to me! Sorry for any mistakes!

“This is absolutely mortifying.” A mutter came out of me and the man next to me adjusted his red cloak before looking to me.

“You know how the village is, they are hoping that the Wolf will leave us be to fully pass.” I looked to green eyes before sighing out with arms crossing, shifting the basket hanging on my  arm.

“The Wolf is said to cater to dark haired females, but ‘Grandma’ only trusts females. Why are we being sent, yoi?” I asked and Sabo made a shrug before tugging at his gloves, making me frown on when he tugged extra on his left one, trying to hide the scarring. No matter how many times I tried to tell him he looked amazing even with the scars, he wouldn’t listen–especially after what the elders said to us both.

“The Wolf won’t bother you both with such… attributes.” The way they spoke I knew he was speaking of Sabo’s scarring form a fire years ago and about my short life span I have. It was no wonder they were trying to hit two birds with one stone. If the information got to Grandma then it was all good and if the Wolf were to kill us then they wouldn’t have to worry about wasting anything on us; not that they would.

“Anyways,” I started off again while moving to the door of our hut and knew they would sanitize this place after we leave to have someone live in it that they thought o be more worthy. I knew they were waiting for me die so they could have an easier means to kick Sabo out and use his fear of fire against him. “We should head out so we have a decent amount of time to reach the home and still be daylight out.”

Sabo agreed with me as we began for the edge of the woods, knowing no one would see us off like they did the others. The code name of ‘Grandma’ was actually someone who was part of the Sanction, a place that dealt with supernatural beings that caused trouble. I assume they thought our village was fine with no reports, but we were starting to rely on close sources and running severely low on food and other resources, the community had started relying too heavily on outside connections.

Walking along down the path that had started to be covered heavily with weeds and clovers, we kept a normal pace next to each. I had the hood on, having a matching cloak to Sabo’s, and he left his down while keep an eye out. Out of the two of us, I was stronger by just a hair and Sabo was somewhat dependent with me since kids. I knew he would have been fine once I finally die, but at the same time I hated thinking I was leaving him alone. I knew that’s what he feared most was to be alone and have no one to turn to. The only problem was that I have been keeping it hidden that I was getting weaker and tried hard not to let him know, but my days were running short. The marking we both know I bare was spreading higher along my torso from legs, me hiding it as it was starting to ring around my heart.

A low growl brought my thoughts to a halt and we continued on, but both highly aware we were not alone anymore. It only took a few more steps before the bushes rustled before us on the side of the path and out came a large wolf, stalking and barely had been covered by the forestry. Dark fur was long enough to give the beast a good coat for the winter, but not heavy enough to weight it down. Eyes glimmered darkly with a silver lining and the large paws moved along the dirt path as the growl was lowly emitting from teeth slightly bared.

“Let us pass, Wolf.” Sabo spoke firmly to show we were of male, though the beast probably already knew that. “We have no business with you.” The remark was there as I watched those eyes flicker between us and land on me solely longer. I assumed it wanted me to speak, but instead began moving closer towards my direction. 

A strain was in me, but I decided to hold firm as the growling stopped and Sabo was somewhat shifting nervously. When it got close in proximity, I could really tell how it was half my six foot height, but just barely at that spot. The head tilted curiously as the beast eyed me before moving to sit back and just kept its head high as it eyed me more. Eyes bore into me before it made a muffle noise in exasperation and I gave a raised eyebrow.

“Did it just laugh at me?” I asked towards Sabo who was staying in his spot with a light noise of confusion.

Before Sabo could mention something, the wolf again moved closer to me as if it was nothing more than a docile stray. It moved up closer to me to sit before moving a paw to press at my thigh and gave ears twitching a bit down with a whine. A noise of surprise was leaving Sabo as I stared to silver-like eyes in shock and slowly let a hand rise to begin rubbing to the muzzle. A huff was there from the beast before it moved to press the nose to my stomach with heavy sniffing and I made sure to keep myself firm and let the animal explore with no provoking it. 

Shortly it made a huff before stalking over to sniff at Sabo more freely, most likely noticing me as not a threat. After the beast seemed satisfied of whatever it was looking for, it pulled away to sniff around at the basket hanging on my arm before growling to it while biting to the wicker. A noise left me as if to stop the wolf before it got it fully off and stalked off with it to the bushes not far. I gave a quick look to Sabo as he did the same back, not sure what to do since our whole purpose rests in that basket to take to Grandma. The tail of the beast was moving slightly as it got the basket shoved away before stalking back over while sitting back down in front of us. A whimsical look was in silver eyes as I soon sighed out with arms shifting in a shrug as I looked to Sabo.

“What now? It’s obvious the Wolf doesn’t want us to take the basket to our destination, yoi.” I mention before Sabo crossed arms over his chest with an exasperated noise.

“I don’t know…. Go back?” He suggested which earned a growl and it surprised us lightly as teeth snagged my cloak and tugged. Eyes glimmered in a serious way and gave more tugs of protest, making me stumble a few steps towards the wolf before it snapped to Sabo’s cloak and tugged to it as well.

The Wolf didn’t want us to go back?

I looked to Sabo after he gave way to being next to the wolf as we were on either side of it. This wolf just sat back down looking like it accomplished something and I was highly confused before carefully stroking it’s head. There was a tension before it relaxed with its head tilting to be scratched more along an ear. A feeling stirred in me as I soon moved to be kneeling and began ruffling the large animal that perked up before shifting to roll to ts back, making Sabo stumble a bit out of the way so he wasn’t knocked over. By the show, I knew immediately the wolf was a male, but merely scratched at his belly as he wagged his tail and it made everything feel like a big joke. 

This animal was the big scary wolf that killed people?

This animal that was happily taking the pets I gave him with such enthusiasm and wiggled around with noises of pure enjoyment? It made me laugh inwardly as I continued with eyes find green ones that stared in fascination before the wolf stopped and rolled with a growl down the path we just came from. We were both confused as I soon stood up and Sabo was being booty bumped by the wolf to be next to me and this beast was… was… protecting us?

“They are my prey, mutt.” A man mentioned and I recognized the voice before someone in a black cloak was approaching, but everything seemed familiar about him. The wolf growled with a feral tone as he moved to have us back away from the man in the cloak and gave some snaps of his jaw. Hair were standing along the back of my neck as I began to notice why the man in the cloak was familiar before letting out a shaky breath.

“It’s one of the elders…” I whispered so Sabo could hear and felt as a hand gripped to my arm and we were pressed together.

“Just like the last few, you won’t be able to do anything.” Confusion flared through me on hearing those words before there was movement and a flurry as the wolf before us was up and then there was skin.

“I won’t let you have them!” A light sputter was leaving Sabo as if trying to speak, but I was utterly speechless as I peered along the muscled back with deep scarring of claw marks across it in three different areas. “I won’t let you take anymore souls!”

“That is not your choice, I have already marked one.” That had me stiffen, knowing that the elder had to be speaking about me and would call out on his name, but wasn’t sure if I was right or not. Even so, the elders became corrupt after the head one took over and they just followed him, making me wonder if they knew about this. A hand was lifted as a finger began to curl and there was a pull on me, making me stumble a couple steps.

“M-Marco!” Sabo panicked as he tried to pull back and the wolf turned to look at me with those dark eyes and I noticed freckles sprinkled along his cheeks before he moved. A flare of pain was through me as I hollered with it, “NO! NO! GET OFF MARCO!” Sabo was shouting as teeth were in my neck and there was a searing heat and I heard an angry shout.

“You will not take a prime one from me!” The elder shouted as I was able to flicker eyes to notice the man in the black cloak quickly shift forward, but the wolf released me to shift and clash with the man. Fear trembled through me as I had collapsed and Sabo was grabbing me to stay sitting up.

“Oh gods, Marco…” He was gripping to my neck as the sensations in me felt… lighter. There was no pain and it was like a burden was lifted from my shoulders, like I was able to breath easier. I quickly pulled up my shirt to look at my abdomen to notice the dark markings fading away. “It’s… it’s disappearing…” We both looked to each other in shock as I was basically marked with death before looking to the two fighting individuals, the wolf trying to hold off the elder whose hood had fallen. It was Akainu, as I thought, but that meant he was the one who was going to kill us form how he said we were his prey. Did that mean the wolf was just the excuse needed to scare them away from this animal that was potentially trying to save others? 

The only thing I could really ask out everything was, “What is going on?”