#on the one hand hes japanese so hes only come into contact with japanese instances of spirit channeling

[sukunasweetheart]

after learning that sukuna canonly speaks in an elegent and poetic way and uses old japanese terms (that sadly gets lost in translation) i can’t stop thinking of him being a literature or terminology professor😖 like this man would say romantic things to you out of nowhere and you’re like “what?🥴” and he says “what? what’s the big deal🤨”

no bc picture sukuna with glasses and a coffee in one hand, wearing an awfully smart outfit, his passion for jujutsu replaced with passion for literature, a tall mf who has an unapproachable aura in every way possible

his classes are by no means, for the weak. high demand, but high results. meaning, if you successfully endure and manage to grit your teeth through his assignments and harsh, but reasonable critique, you will have attained something very valuable from the experience, because this man expects nothing but the best from students who sit through his classes and want to learn about the art of literature + poetry

so many college students develop a crush on him, despite his difficult personality...

his lovelife is rather stagnant, however. literature professor!sukuna is too careful about who he brings into his life, being mostly uninterested in romance and the turmoil it brings to a person. he isn't fond of the idea that he could be potentially swayed so easily by one singular person. how awful would it be that your entire mood could depend on one individual? he was pretty content with spending the rest of his life as a single man, so be it.

but really, nobody is immune to the nature of falling in love... it can be something that happens at the snap of one's fingers. or it can be gradual, like a slow but firm tug that pulls you in closer towards someone. it can occur almost violently, and you might find yourself thrashing frantically against the net that you've gotten tangled up in. or, it can occur in a way that is as elegant and gentle as how one handles their most beloved books, flipping through each page without leaving as much as a crease behind...

for sukuna, all the boxes can be ticked off. falling in love with you, a fellow professor, was like experiencing all of these at once. the realisation hit like a bolt of lightning, when he caught himself... smiling? when he was reading an email of yours. he had to take off his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose for that one. there was no way. it happens this quickly?

it's hard to say whether he fell in deep from the start, or if happened more like sinking slowly, helpless, in quicksand. either way, it didn't matter whether he tried to struggle or not, he was only plummeting further.

it only hurt him when he tried to distance himself away. it only hurt him when he tried holding himself back from contacting you. it seemed like everything he did in attempt to quell the thrumming in his heart, only came back to hurt him.

it started off as emails between two professional colleagues. but eventually, it developed into polite follows onto each other's social media accounts. and almost inevitably, personal numbers were then exchanged after much talking in dms. it was very funny, seeing his empty shell of an instagram account, no posts or even a profile picture in place. such clever and well pronounced prose coming from a colourless account.

let's not get into the moment where he first experienced your touch. when handing him a novel, you brushed fingers with him, and sukuna felt a strange tingle that travelled down his spine.

many instances come- where an overwhelming desire to pull you close to him by the waist, grasps him by the throat. the conflicting compulsion and urge to wreck you, but also having the need to treat you like he would a fragile butterfly.

he goes out drinking with you, one evening. already a dangerous move.

in a soft, but a little busy area in maybe a small, cheap restaurant where the two of you are residing. both of you a little tipsy, but not drunk. tipsy enough for lingering gazes. tipsy enough for the little unnoticeable but definitely noticeable touches. tipsy enough to bring out the vulnerability to seep out of yours and his eyes.

you and him, confined in a little cosy and invisible bubble… all and every noise that's made outside of it sounds muffled.

the tilting of your head as you look at him with a flirtatious smile, the reach of your delicate fingers approaching his cheek slowly, but then retracting because you're still unsure, because you're only tipsy.

and he, with his mellow eyes, grabs onto your hand before you can get away. why don't you commit? his searing hot palm clasps over your skin, and it captures you in every way possible.

and you're doing it again. you're batting your eyelashes at him, tempting him into doing something definitively irreversible. now that he's touched you, he can't compel himself to let go. you've done it now. there's nothing he can do to stop this.

your eyes follow as he reaches for his own glasses, still holding onto your hand, grip so firm yet so gentle. sukuna takes them off. carefully places them onto the table. the next order of events should have been so painfully obvious, but it still didn't fail in making your heart pound within your ribcage.

he kisses you so feverishly. he palms your jawline with great tenderness, bringing you in impossibly closer. so enraptured, so infatuated, so sweet. he holds your hand tighter, gliding his large thumb over it.

it brings him an intense amount of joy, touching you like this. it's addicting. and he never wants to let go again. he's a selfish man at heart, already claiming you as his internally, because you enthrall him and induce such pleasure like no one before. oh, how aggravating. but also, simply delightful.

it's time he brought you home. if you've caught someone up in your web, it's only right you take responsibility. will you consume him? or will he do it first?

after this string of events, sukuna is most definitely no longer a single man. having a lover around has its merits, and its disadvantages. but never does the bad outweigh the good, at least when it comes to you.

maybe he'll write an excerpt about you. a little free verse poem. beautifully worded, but incredibly abstract. nobody could guess how it all ties back to you. not even yourself, perhaps. but that's what sukuna intended. he's satisfied with keeping this secret to himself.

you'd think having such a mellow lovelife would also transfer the same softness into his lectures, and assignments. wrong. as a professor, he's still as prickly as ever.

#this didnt meant to be so fucking long bruh but i got carried away oopsiess omg #sukuna x reader #sukuna #jjk x reader #poe answers

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

Kinktober Day 31

Piquerism: a sexual interest in penetrating the skin of another person with sharp objects.

Pairing: Nakamoto Yuta x reader

AU/Genre: smut, roommates with benefits!AU, dom!Yuta, sub!reader, it gets weirdly emotional towards the end...

Word Count: 2544 words (really went off on this one huh)

Warnings: kink discovery...?, knives, author tried to educate themselves before writing, but let's just consider this artistic freedom, teasing, blood play, mentioned masturbation (m & f), brief choking, fear play ig, dirty talk, humiliation low key, degradation, panty sniffing while they're still on???????, oral (f receiving), tears, Yuta is MEAN, blood licking (how tf do you call this), marking (literally? 😭), kindaaa confessing during (unprotected, wrap your willy, silly) sex

A/n: knife/blood play should only happen between two consenting adults who actually know what they're doing, not like these two idiots. this is just fiction, if you wish to engage in such activities, please educate yourself since this is something that can be really dangerous fr!

A/n 2: the last Kinktober fic, I can't believe it!! also, this was really last minute, i wrote this, like, 2 hours ago, but here we are! thank you for being a part of this!

Taglist: @matchahyuck @seraphinealana @yyawnnz @allaboutthedongs @baehaechannie @iwannabreathetosetmefree @positionslab @jjenodream @kundann

Stepping into the kitchen with a simple "hey, what're you doing?" shouldn't have lead to this. But it did. Maybe you should've seen it coming, your roommate slash guy that gets to hit from time to time is easily to be startled, so when you did walk into the kitchen, accompanied by said words, the inevitable happened.

Yuta, in the midst of cutting a carrot, spun around on his heel, the huge Japanese knife in his hand almost making contact with your body. He shrieked, immediately pulling the knife away and hiding it behind the width of his back, and your reaction should have been quite similar.

Though it wasn't.

"Cooking," Yuta finally said, voice quiet and a little breathless from the shock – who can blame him? You just blinked. Time passed by without a word being said, and you throughoutly hoped that it just slipped his ears.

"Did you just moan?"

Oh, it did not.

"No, I did not."

"Yes, you did."

You anxiously bit your lip, hands coming together behind your back as your eyes scanned the area to find a place to land on until you gave in and finally settle your gaze upon his. A smirk was displayed on his handsome features. Other than to press your lips together and gulp, you decided not to react.

"Why?" His smirk only widened. He knew exactly why, he's not stupid. He just wanted to humiliate you further by making you say it out loud.

"I don't know what you mean," you grunted, not ready to give in. But when he pulled the knife from beneath his back and gentle pressed it against the soft skin of your neck, your breath hitched, eyes rolling back involuntarily.

Yuta loves to tease, hence that was not the last time he tried getting you all hot, bothered (and your palms a little clammy) by surprisingly feeding into this newfound liking of yours. You assume that he aims to find out how far he can push you before you admit it, and you surely won't make it so easy for him.

Though, you would have never guessed how hard exactly that would be. You only realize it too late, pressed against the door of your room rubbing one out aggressively after fleeing another instance of Yuta pushing your buttons, this time with a prettily decorated pocket knife.

For fuck's sake, you just wish that he would finally act on it, finally do something, finally fuck the living hell out of your compliant body as the blade carefully draws red lines across your skin.

The thought of that makes you orgasm hard, back gliding down the wooden door as your legs give out. Fucking hell, you think as you come back to your senses, there is no way you can go on like this for much longer. It genuinely surprises you, though, how long Yuta'd gone without getting needy. If only you knew about the way Yuta's pressed against his own door, a hand pressed over his mouth to keep down the sounds as his right hand rapidly strokes his cock.

You have it all planned out, pretty lingerie adorning your body beneath your sweatpants and hoodie as to not give anything away, the most important purchase of your life resting idly in your pocket.

"It's go time," you mumble to yourself, aiming to sound cool for no one but yourself, as soon as you hear the front door open and close. Yuta is home from his art class, something that, for unknown reasons that you decide not to question, usually causes him to come home with an increased level of horniness.

An ear pressed against your closed door, you wait for him to enter his room, then barge out of yours. You cross the small hallway within seconds, entering his room and trapping him against the door.

God, must he look so enticing, dressed in all black looking so- bad and rotten to the core...? You shake your head away from drinking in his looks and focus on his face instead.

"Do it already," you demand, a palm pressed against his chest that you must admit feels incredibly hard against your skin. Your other hand pulls the knife from your pocket, still closed, you press it into his hand.

Yuta does not respond, he only tilts his head to the side, smiling innocently. You sigh heavily, rolling your eyes before unzipping your hoodie.

"Just fucking do it already."

Yuta's and your sex life had been anything but vanilla, you really enjoy the way both of you see sex as something to experiment with. You'd tried out a variety of kinks before, everything from bondage over public sex to role playing, but all of it with a hint of meanness and teasing. It's just the way your relationship works, riling each other up to a point where annoyance and arousal mix to create angry intimacy, each of you too proud to admit to a kink, it always has to be some sort of game, of experimenting, of finding and living out.

After scanning over your body, Yuta's gaze bores into yours. He knows what you want, that you know. Every time he gazes into your eyes as deeply as he does right now, you know he can read you. Your mouth could lie to him, maybe you could even get your body to lie, but your eyes never could, so full of desire and lust for the things you wish he'd do to you.

Within the blink of an eye, Yuta reacts, attaching his hand to your throat, fingers closing around it immediately as he spins the both of you around, pressing your back to the door instead.

"Is this what you want?" Yuta asks, feigning innocence as he lifts his other hand still holding onto the knife. You nothing but moan as he allows it to snap open with ease, his gaze darkening as he inspects the shiny blade. There's something about Yuta's eyes that hold the potential of going completely crazy in them, and it seriously turns you on beyond believe when he looks like he could completely ravish your being without a single ounce of concern or sanity.

Yuta handles the pocket knife expertly, lifting it to press against your cheek briefly before teasingly dragging it down, your breath stopping with due respect as you watch him remove his hand from your throat to be able to glide the blade over your skin instead.

As the knife travels further down, your breath hitches in your throat, core throbbing with anticipation, surely wetting your panties in the process. Though, you stay still, curiously waiting for what's to come. The blade glides down to your breasts, teasing your skin.

"I don't think we need this anymore," Yuta whispers just as he uses the pocket knife to cut the piece of fabric between your breasts, causing your bra to snap and dangle lifelessly from your shoulders.

You breathe in to snap at him for ruining your lingerie, but Yuta's quick to press the blade against your throat once more, making you quiet down immediately.

"Shut the fuck up," he hisses, pressing the blade dangerously hard against your racing pulse before stepping back. "Get on the bed."

You do as he says, quickly shuffling over to lay down on the duvet, wrinkling the fabric in the process.

"Turn around," Yuta commands as he steps towards you agonizingly slow, and you comply, presenting your ass to him as your forearms dig into the mattress. It shifts beneath you, material sinking in due to the weight of Yuta's body behind you. You can't see him, only feel his presence, then he presses a kiss between your shoulder blades – an action that would seem loving and romantic if it weren't for your heart racing in fear and excitement. Yuta presses another kiss to the middle of your back, then just above the hem of your panties before licking a fat stripe up your entire spine, causing goose bumps to erupt all over your skin.

Without words, you suddenly feel the blade against your ass, cold and dangerous as it glides over the surface of each cheek, then carefully over the flimsy material of your panties. You whine in anticipation as he drags it further along your clothed slit, then presses the flat side of the knife against your clit.

"You're so fucking wet, how embarrassing. It's even sticking to the blade," Yuta remarks, voice sounding amused, but your cheeks begin to burn out of shame. "Stupid slut," he adds before wiping your wetness off the blade by smearing it over your ass.

You jump a little as you feel his nose pressing into your clothed cunt, the side of the cold blade pressed against your ass cheeks as he pushes them apart with both hands for better access. Then he inhales deeply, almost exaggeratedly, then breathes out with a groan, pulls back and briefly sinks his teeth into the supple flesh of your ass.

You whine, but he's not finished, hands now resembling the motion of the knife earlier, which allows Yuta to feel your arousal on his own skin before he pulls your panties away from your body to cut through it as well, leaving it to hang purposelessly from your waist.

You let out a surprised squeal as his tongue suddenly presses against your core, a groan vibrating against you as he tastes. "Shit, if I'd known that this stuff gets you so wet, I would've used this sooner. Fuck, you're dripping," he laughs, and you press your face into the pillows shamefully.

Yuta eats you out a bit more, tongue focusing on tasting your wetness rather than stimulating you, just trying to tease you, not to please you. All you do it take it, whimpering over his humiliating words and actions when suddenly you're turned on your back.

"You're crying? How cute," Yuta comments with a smile that does not contain any sentiment at all, it simply mocks you, especially given that you hadn't even noticed the salty tears escaping your eyes.

The knife appears in your sight again, and your breath hitches once again visibly.

"Do you want me to cut you?"

The whine that comes out of you sounds raw and desperate, your head nodding quickly as he aligns the tip of the knife to the soft skin of your breasts.

"Then look me in the eyes as I do it." You do, fearful gaze catching his dominant one as you feel the blade tearing your skin. It stings, but you love it, moaning out as you feel wet blood tickle out of the fresh cut.

"Good fucking girl," Yuta praises, eyes wide and crazy as he takes in your bleeding. Your mind is hazy as you take in the way he fiddles with the button of his pants, doing only so much to get his cock out. Yuta's crooked smile catches your attention just as he leans down to lick up the drops of blood resting on your skin.

Fuck, your eyes roll back at the sting, core throbbing emptily with the need to be filled, your chest rising to push against him.

"Dirty girl," he says, "want more, huh?"

"Yes," you whisper, your voice sounding raw and desperate. Yuta chuckles, pressing the blade to your opposite breast, repeating the motion of cutting your skin lightly, but this time he decides to push his cock into you simultaneously.

Helplessly, you grunt, it's too much, but so good, your hands grabbing the sheets in your fists as your cunt throbs, clamping down around Yuta's girth, your body and face contorting in pleasure.

Yuta just watches, amused.

"Didn't know you were such a knife slut, it felt like you almost came from me pushing into you. It's amazing how desperate you get once I hold this little blade in my hands," he notes, grinning evilly and your heart flutters, core throbbing around him once more.

Why is he so fucking perfect?

Yuta finally begins moving, dragging the entirety of his cock along your hugging walls. At the same time, he drags his index finger through the fresh wounds on your breasts, smearing the blood around your tits.

His stare is insane, tongue licking over his teeth when he lifts the finger up to your lips and pushes in, making you taste your own blood. The metal taste clouding your senses makes you dizzy.

"Write y-" you begin, a moan interrupting your speech, "write your name."

"What?" You scoffs out a laugh. "Are you crazy? You want me to carve my name into your body? You really want to be my bitch, huh?"

"P-please."

You watch as he moves the blade to your thigh, carefully stilling the motions of his hips to make the cut that you groan out to, hazy eyes taking in the way fresh blood bubbles out of the cut. He drags the knife over to your other thigh, slicing into your skin twice more before he starts moving again. The cuts are not that deep, yet still deep enough for more and more blood to drop out, pooling on your skin.

Yuta drags his fingers through the red substance, then moves the covered digit to your stomach. Your eyes flutter close at the sensations of the burning cuts, the cool blood, his hot finger and the movements he picked up once again, the head of his cock massaging your insides expertly.

All is too much, you can't comprehend what's happening, all you can focus on is how good everything feels, for the lack of a better word. You whimper out as Yuta's hand leaves your stomach to rub at your clit, thumb pressing harshly into the nub, and you feel your thighs begin to shake from the overwhelming pleasure.

"Now, do you like it?"

Confusion fogs your brain, your eyelids heavy as you open them to take in the way his bloody thumb expertly abuses your clit. It's then when you see it.

Yuta.

The letters of his name are written on your skin in your own blood.

You whine out, fingers reaching out to really touch him for the first time, your orgasm building up rapidly.

"Yuta, Yuta-"

The pocket knife, long forgotten, lays next to you on the sheets, painting little, red dots that sink into the fabric as you pull Yuta closer, he's still grinning as tears fall from your eyes, legs desperately hugging around his waist to never let him go.

Yuta presses his forehead against your own, being as close to you as possible all while his cock quickly pushes you over the edge. Cries of all kinds fall from your parted lips as you get overwhelmed with emotions.

"I love you, I love you," you whimper as he pushes deeper, drawing out your orgasm as he finishes himself, groaning loudly at how tightly your cunt is hugging him, fucking into you a few more times, hard and deep, before his thrusts slow down and his lips crash into yours.

You're not sure what just happened, and you're not sure whether his kiss means that he reciprocates the feeling, but you're sure that you just never want him to leave.

© 2022 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

#yuta smut #nakamoto yuta smut #nct yuta smut #yuta x reader #nct #nct smut #kpop #smut #nct fanfic #kpop smut #nct 127 #fem reader #neohub #nct x reader #nct nakamoto yuta #nakamoto yuta #kinktober

[seventeenlovesthree]

Headcanon/AU: What if Menoa had known Koushirou all along and the entirety of Kizuna had been about her wanting to drag him to her side?

Granted, this wouldn’t have changed much of Kizuna’a overall plot, but: Parts of the scenery - as well as some interesting translation choices - could at least imply that Menoa’s role in the OG Digimon Adventure timeline may have been a lot more meaningful than what meets the eye. (Big thanks goes to @jamesthedigidestined, who initially sparked this headcanon.)

In sum, Menoa’s and Koushirou’s roles in Kizuna are pretty much defined as “being young geniuses on opposing ends/value systems”. Menoa is completely engulfed in her saviour complex, utterly ridden by grief and guilt over having caused her partner to dissolve, so her goal is to drag each and every Chosen Child into her fake reality realm, making them turn back into children to live in that state for eternity, without asking for their consent or contemplating whether what she does is right or wrong. Koushirou, on the other hand, is framed as selfless hero, sacrificing himself for the sake of enabling Taichi and Yamato to defeat Menoa rather than taking anything from anybody against their will - so much for the things the viewers are able to tell for themselves. But until we get to this point, there are a few other things to look at.

At the start of the movie, Menoa is the one who contacts Koushirou to ask him and the other Japanese Chosen Children for help in solving the cases of people all over the world losing their consciousnesses, as she specializes in Digimon research. Yamato looks to be rather suspicious of her coming to them to ask for help, after she claims that they had been rather famous, having saved the world countless times. And indeed, the movie frames it like they are local heroes - as opposed to Tri, in which they appeared to be a threat to society -, so it shouldn’t be surprising that Menoa figured out how to get in touch with Koushirou... Right?

But what if she had actually known him - while he himself had no idea that it was her...?

There are several versions of “Our War Game’s” sub floating around the internet - in the movie, Koushirou tells Taichi about a friend, who has provided him with analyzed information regarding the suspicious Digimon that appeared on the internet, growing quickly and having merged with several bugs. Depending on what sub you look at, said friend is from Los Angeles (or Russia, which appears to be a common translation error, thanks to @shihalyfie​ for pointing this out!). However: It is notable that he is referring to his friend as “she” (at least in this version of the sub, which may not be fully accurate, but for the sake of this headcanon, we’ll go with it):

And not only that... She seems to be impressively intelligent. Which rings several bells and reminds us of another redheaded genius:

The timeline doesn’t completely line up, since she, apparently, had met Morphomon when she was 9. She is 22 in Kizuna, thus she’s the same age as Taichi - so while that means she would have met her partner two years before Taichi and the others met theirs, it at least lines up with both her and Taichi being in grade school at the same time.

(On a more self induldent note, the fact that Taichi reacted as depicted above both times he is confronted with people interacting around him and Koushirou, who are supposedly much smarter than himself, maaaaay indicate a certain level of mirroring - if Menoa was involved in both instances.)

In addition to this little hint, Kizuna pulled another visual OWG parallel - after losing Morphomon, Menoa had attempted to gather her partner’s data to bring her back. 

And doesn’t that interface look eerily familiar...?

The English Dub of “Our War Game”, better known as “The Digimon Movie”, merged several movies together and changed the course of the story: In this, it was Willis (or Wallace in the Japanese original) who was framed to be the genius who had accidentally caused Diaboromon/Diablomon to appear in the internet as a virus. 

So... What if Menoa had done the same? What if she actually had been the one Koushirou was in touch with over the whole issue? What if their exchange had caused her to gather enough data, enough information, to use this exact interface to create her own Digimon later on, being inspired not only by Diablomon’s basis, but, probably, by everything she and Koushirou had been texting about throughout all these years - while Koushirou had been blissfully unaware of what she would end up doing?

What if... The fact that she refers to Koushirou as “genius boy” was because she had actually met him through the internet when he had still been just a boy himself?

What if that was the reason why she had hoped for him to see eye to eye with her? Her overall demeanour towards him is very relaxed, open - maybe even a bit playful and flirtatious. 

What if she had been convinced that he would be on her side and provide the help she requested - since she had been the one who helped him to defeat Diablomon in the past? Just imagine what they may have been theorizing about, all the exhanged ideas over the years, all the knowledge that she could have gathered to make all of this work - thanks to him. She knew he’d have a list of all the Chosen Children, she knew he’d have the resources, the infrastructure, the kindness to - hopefully, in her eyes - make everyone turn to a state of bliss and happiness, without pain or loss. Together with her.

And what if the fact that she could eventually overpower him, taking his consciousness, luring him into Neverland, was because he had eventually realized who she was... And had let his guard down, just for a few seconds?

I do believe it could have been interesting if he had become her second in command due to getting brainwashed - because we all know the others are pretty much helpless when he isn’t providing guidance from afar. And these two geniuses and their bug Digimon against the world might be a deadly combination, but... For now, this is just a headcanon. Especially because the timing might not fully add up in the end. But I would really love to see these two interact in some way in canon once again in the future.

#menoa bellucci #koushirou izumi #koushiro izumi #my two cents #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #digimon adventure kizuna #meta #headcanon #digimon #kounoa #they're a very intriguing duo and i just adore how this COULD have been framed

[mcphersonjohannessen25]

Bvlgari Octo Finissimo Additional Thin Automated Blue Dial Men's Watch 1

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[mrsgiovanna]

Between the devil and the deep blue sea (Yakuza!Josuke x Reader x Don Giorno)

If you're looking for cinnamon bun Josuke and cinnamon roll Giorno this is NOT it. The reader is a courtesan in this instance, and the Duwang gang (heh) are actually a branch of the Yakuza. (Just a darker, criminal Jojo AU)

This request took way too long, @rubyninja1 here you go love, I hope this is what you were envisioning.

All characters are aged up as this occurs many years after Giorno becomes Don.

TW: Very OOC, yandere behavior if you squint, yakuza x mafia au, suggestive content.

Word Count: 1.7k

Minors please DNI with this post and block the n/sfw tag

You stared at your reflection in the misty mirror, wiping off the steam in one swipe. You had a very important engagement to get ready for, and for the first time since you entered this business, you were nervous. Ever since Giorno became the Don of Passione, the drug trade came to a grinding halt. The rules were adapted to suit his ideals and keep Italy’s youth safe from drugs. But there remained one problem- the activities of the former execution squad… at the best of times, the income brought in was meagre, not really being enough to support all of the assassins, and with the new regime, even those jobs had all but dried up. You had to get creative to generate a livable income, and after many conversations and playing to the Don’s affections for you, you were able to persuade him to allow you and an elite group of escorts to run your business while still being under the protection of Passione.

Under normal circumstances, Giorno would not have allowed you to do something like this, but you had asked him to give you just one month to prove that you would be able to protect yourself while doing the line of work you had proposed, him hoping silently that you would grow tired of that life in favor of a more mundane activity, however, in that short amount of time, not only had you established your business, but you had become the most requested companion, which meant you could accept and deny requests at will- suddenly money was no longer your motivation. It was an intoxicating feeling… being that desired, it was altogether euphoric watching them crumble at your sweet rejections. It was fair game for any man, deciding your rules according to your latest whims, although, one man was above all of those games, being in a superior league all on his own. There was no waiting, or appraising when your presence was requested by Don Giovanna. Most times he would request for you to entertain his associates, close to him so he could keep an eye on you- one of many guardians that you had collected over the years.

Moving into your adjoining room you put on the beautiful silken embroidered outfit and hair ornaments sent to you by Giorno- tonight was a special night as the Don wasn’t just hosting any old Mafiosi, these guests were his esteemed associates from Japan. Over and above the usual treatment doled out to those who met with the don, this visit was more important than most. The head of the visiting group was a relative of Giorno’s, so there was no room for error. You wondered about his convoluted bloodline, hearing murmurs about his origins, but nothing was ever confirmed or denied other than the fact that his mother is Japanese, and nobody dared to push further for answers, not that it mattered in any case, by this time, Giorno had rearranged the entire structure of Passione, and for all intents and purposes it worked, sustainably generating copious amounts of money with minimal bloodshed.

Right, mascara and I’ll be done you mused as you applied the finishing touches to your makeup. No sooner had you finished primping your lashes did you hear a knock on your door.

“It’s open…” you called out from the seat in front of your mirror.

“(y/n), they’re ready with the car downstairs, whenever you’re ready to go…”

“Thank you Ris…” the words left your carefully painted lips, barely acknowledged by your capo when he turned to leave. Well, referring to him as Capo was now redundant seeing that you were an entity in your own right, but old habits die hard, and you still respected him in the same way. He always worried before you set out on these types of missions, remembering a time when you used to be sent out on missions by him. Nonetheless, those days were over now, and you had a new role to fulfil.

There was nobody downstairs when you left, so you exited quietly and steeled your mind on the drive to the private cigar lounge.

“Fugo, I’ll be in my study, please alert me when Higashikata and his associates are here. Also confirm with Risotto if (y/n) is on board for this evening,”

“Of course Giogio, excuse me, I’ll also follow up with Mista on the status of the Capos he’s in charge of- I’ll have feedback for you in an hour,” with a small nod of acknowledgement Fugo took his leave and Giorno went back to examining the documents sent to him beforehand about the strange occurrences in Morioh, Washington, and now Naples. This was the start of something ominous, having a nagging feeling that this wasn’t the last time he would have to meet Josuke. It’s highly unusual for organisations like Passione and the Gokudo to interact in this manner, but this situation was exceptional, and when Jotaro had made contact with Giorno explaining the situation, he couldn’t turn a blind eye, and as such, Josuke was sent in his stead to meet with the young Don.

“Giogio, we should leave now if we want to get there before Higashikata’s group, Mista will meet us there,” with that, the Don and his consigliere had left to receive their guests.

Scents of old leather, expensive tobacco, and even more expensive cologne filled the air when you sauntered in. A handsome man with a pompadour, donning a designer suit, shirt opened a few buttons too low displaying the elaborate patterns adorning his chest offered you a wicked grin from across the room. Just next to him, another ruggedly good looking man with scars across his face nursed a drink while emphatically making conversation with a white haired young man who had a beautiful raven-haired woman draped over him.

“Ah, (y/n), there you are, come on, take this to Don Giovanna and Mr Higashikata,” Maria the head hostess, pushed a bottle of cognac into your hands, the Mafiosi already having gone through a couple of rounds before your arrival.

You approached the rowdy table, offering apologies for the delay, nestling yourself between Giorno and Josuke with a flirtatious giggle.

“Well dollface, it seems good things come to those who wait, so I’ll overlook it… this time,” You were surprised with the fluency at which Josuke spoke Italian- perfect Neapolitan dialect.

“Your Italian is impeccable Higashikata-sama,” you commented, remembering the honorifics you read about. Josuke looked impressed, cocking an eyebrow, taking a sip of the expensive liquor that remained in his glass, readying himself for you to pour him another drink. Watching the exchange, Giorno downed the rest of his drink as well, and took care of the formal introductions, not that it mattered in any case. You were being pulled in all to quickly by the magnetism exuded by the young man, being lulled by the dulcet tones of his voice. I guess this runs in the family you thought to yourself, recalling your first encounter with the don. Giorno continued his conversations with the rest of Josuke’s associates, discussing the occurrences that had brought them all the way to Naples, but kept one eye on you at all times. He wasn’t sure if it was Josuke’s brazen attitude, or your fawning, but the entire situation had annoyed him, which didn’t make sense even to him seeing that you were acting on his instruction… although by this point, you weren’t really acting.

“So Higash…”

“Please, call me Josuke,”

“Okay, Josuke, those are some interesting tattoos you have…” you say, delicately tracing the patterns on his chest with a manicured finger.

“Wanna see the rest of it?” not really waiting for an answer, Josuke unbuttons the rest of his shirt to show you the elaborate design on his back, a large stunning dragon sprawled menacingly across the taut skin, stopping just shy of star-shaped marking on his shoulder.

“Hey, that looks like the same mark on the don’s shoulder…” the young man pulled his shirt and coat back on and eyed Giorno knowingly, to which the don wordlessly replied with a smirk as he raised his glass. Giorno wasn’t always that condescending, but he had the urge to make it known that hewas the one who had been acquainted with you first. Not that any of that had bothered Josuke, he wasn’t one to fall for minor acts of derision when he had set his sights on something he wanted, and right now, that was you. Missing that entire interaction as you refreshed everyone else’s drinks, you returned to the table, however Josuke wanted to take your conversation to another location, somewhere quieter.

You lead him to one of the private meeting rooms, slowly sliding the door shut. Turning around to face him, you noticed the look on Josuke’s face changed, eyes darker, expression demanding your attention, which you were unable to avert regardless of your efforts. This feeling was exhilarating to you, for so long you had mostly been in charge of your encounters, only ever yielding control to Giorno when you were with him.

“Y’know, your don was doing his best to make it known that he’d been here first… I don’t much care for the conquest or doing things first, all that matters is doing it right…” inching closer towards you, a pair of strong arms placed you on the table, hungry lips captured your own, your hands attempting to go into his hair when you were gently reprimanded. As much as this was a job for you, evidence of your excitement pooled in your lingerie and left your lips in muted moans as deft hands and lips skillfully worshipped your body, bringing you to the precipice of ecstasy so many times before allowing you to fall in.

“Good girl… look at you, barely able to think…” Josuke spoke into your shoulder, resting his head there while he waited for you ride out your climax.

Outside your little slice of heaven, your absence was obvious, Giorno having concluded his business, had started to take his leave, not before catching a glimpse of your slightly disheveled form exiting the room. You didn’t see him watching you with a scowl, already having set in motion a plan for your future in both his life and the organization… for now the moment though it seemed ignorance truly was bliss.

#josuke x reader #josuke x y/n #josuke higashikata #jjba giorno #giorno x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #yandere giorno giovanna #n/sfw #josuke 4 #duwang gang #don giorno #don giovanna #jjba giorno giovanna #yandere giogio #out of character #yandere x reader #jojo x reader #jojo x you #jjba josuke #giorno giovanna #giorno #jjba #vento aureo #jojo's bizarre adventure #golden wind #giogio #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo no kimyō na bōken #diamond is unbreakable

[hanijunk]

Alright boys, girls, and nonbinary folks of the world. It’s 5:36am (1/30 when I first started) as I decide to give up on my attempt to continue to focus on learning statistics, avoid studying for my two upcoming midterms, and put off my two actual essays for two different classes.

Instead we’re going into a dive about ✨ KazuFuuma ✨ . Is this me telling you you gotta ship it? No of course not, you’re entitled to your own ships! You don’t really gotta care about it as a ship. But I do want people to recognize it’s THERE canonically, and how disregarding it is extremely unfair to Kazuki as a character particularly. Also, I’m working on the assumption anyone clicking this at least knows the bare bones about what KazuFuuma (ex. You know they are a ship of Kazuki/Fuuma from Dolce, you know they are childhood friends, you know who Dolce is, you know about Honeyworks, etc.) I’ll be making references to specific things, but I won’t always go into heavy detail. Might just hope you know it or take my word for what it is, and go into analyzing it. Some I’ll put direct references to find, but some I’ll trust you can find it yourself. If you somehow read this MAMMOTH and want reference to a specific thing mentioned, hmu I can help you find it!!

Also I hate tumblr formatting sm if you legit wanna read this 7 page essay but hate tumblr format lmk I'll add it as a google doc link instead too. anYWHO

Before actually getting into the meat of things lemme preface some stuff.

Again it’s like almost 6am so this will be disorganized and very train of thought (and likely long due to the fact when I fly by the seat of my pants I’m known to get unnecessarily extensive). It’s definitely gonna be in large part why it’s important to recognize as a romantic relationship foundation and what about it shapes Kazuki’s character in particular. Maybe a bit of how it’s been built up and its general focus and implications. Dunno yet. We’ll see LMAOO

I say f*ck. Not a lot, just a handful of times. This ain’t something scholarly this is for my own enjoyment so if you don’t like that might not wanna read. And it’s not like spitefully I just curse a lot if you haven’t...read my tags before lol

Again this is through the lens of a Kazuki stan. Of COURSE I’m going to have some level of bias, but if anything that bias may help more than hurt because that means I become FIXATED and think a lot about Kazuki. Which plays into establishing just how important it is that Kazufuuma’s relationship is recognized, especially in a romantic light at this point. Lmfao. 

I’ll have a few more prefaces about the actual content below but to keep this from getting too long if you wanna read come below the cut owo

I have extremely limited knowledge of Japanese just taking a few classes in highschool (so like 3 yrs ago) and live in America. This means a lot of my knowledge is gathered through the english translations of the super duper incredible and lovely people in the Honeyworks fandom who provide translations (delaix and takanenene esp have provided so much for me being able to understand Dolce) and my own limited Japanese paired with Google Translate for things that remain untranslated.

This only will be drawing on information I have come in contact with and have access to and making assumptions based on that, most (if not all) of which is in the public domain. So things like the Dolce Manga Volumes released via Animate, exclusive 4komas, and Light Novels are out of my area for the most part (apart from again snippets of translations thanks to this fandom’s godlike and generous translators).

I will not be drawing on anything from the first Dolce album with the exception of Nade Nade. From a meta standpoint, I consider those songs as songs made as performance media as opposed to character explorations. Nade Nade is the exception because (1) it was released a whole year before the album and (2) you can tell it’s explicitly an exploration of Fuuma and Kazuki’s interpersonal relationship even if it’s in a slightly more performance based context than the songs that came out with the Dolce LNs. Easiest parallel I can make to show this is if you held Non-Fantasy, Yume Fanfare, and Samishigariya up against each other, you could tell the difference in intended audience and intended purpose the same way the Dolce 1st album, Nade Nade, and the songs of the LNs do respectively. Even if there is some basis to ground Kazufuuma, for the purposes of this essay I’ll be acting under the assumption the 1st album falls under the Non-Fantasy equivalent category.

THAT WAS A LOT OF PREFACING CONSIDERING LIKE 2 PPL WILL PROBABLY READ IT I just have a tendency to anytime I do anything analytical lay down ground acknowledgements for myself to work on just...cuz it makes me feel less guilty for any accidental misinformation even if I’m writing towards my future self to read lolll IM SORRY WITHOUT FURTHER TO DO HERE’S THE BRAIN DUMP

First let’s go ahead and establish why it needs to be recognized as an important relationship. Again, I’m a Kazuki stan. He’s my favorite character not only of Dolce but also of the entire Honeyworks series, and as much as I love him for reasons outside the ship, whether you like it or not Kazufuuma is an essential aspect of his character and narrative. Of course there’s the fact that him and Fuuma are childhood friends, so that’s going to in part define their characters and interactions with each other and those around them. They’re both going to be relevant to one another and important to one another’s stories to an even greater extent than the rest of the members of Dolce. But on Kazuki’s side at least, it’s an EXTREME amount. A running plotpoint in Dolce Diary is the sheer amount of dedication Kazuki has to Fuuma and how much his thoughts and decisions are influenced by Fuuma, whether it be how he feels happiest spending time with Fuuma, how he decided to get his piercing to represent he wanted to protect Fuuma, how he doesn’t want to dislike food so he can eat what Fuuma dislikes, etc. Not to mention running jokes about his borderline overprotectiveness and downright possessiveness of Fuuma, how proud he is when Fuuma gets praised, or that one 4koma that literally explicitly states he can read Fuuma’s mind when he thinks motherfucking ‘dirty thoughts’ about his childhood friend (Fuuma). I still don’t know what the fuck to make of that last bit. Genuinely. Or the fact it’s a fucking running joke. As in it’s not a one off. It’s been brought up multiple times. Kazuki what the fuck. 

That’s not to say that he doesn’t have character outside of Fuuma or he doesn’t interact with people other than Fuuma. He’s great friends with Sara, Girisha, and Kippei and is shown time and time again to have fun interactions with all of them, generally acting as the best support friend for every member of the group, not Fuuma alone. For instance how he helps Kippei with his self confidence issues or stays over at Sara’s to protect him from a cockroach (which he fails at lol). Nor is that to say all his interactions involving Fuuma focus solely on his devotion to Fuuma, especially in instances where the manga focuses on Dolce as a group dynamic (though even in that setting there are times where jokes about his devotion are thrown in). He’s kind, he’s stupid, he’s friendly, he’s an amazing character in his own right, and I love him for all those reasons. But that doesn’t change the fact a major part of his character and his character interactions are rooted in Fuuma, and arguably some of his most interesting, eccentric, and notable behaviors and traits revolve around Fuuma (again the mind reading for example).

Hell let’s take it one step further. If you look at the character bios of the Dolce members, you get everyone’s motives for being an idol and interests. Of them, Kazuki is the only one to have another character mentioned directly, not to mention that supporting Fuuma is explicitly stated to be his primary motive as to why he became an idol. Not even Fuuma’s sister is mentioned, though two arguments can be made for this. The first would be that Fuuma’s backstory about wanting to fulfill his dream for himself and his sister was decided later to explain Fuuma’s choice to crossdress though it can be argued it was intentionally done to leave it as a reveal at a later date, to which I would argue I don’t think this backstory was a choice in post. While Fuuma’s dedicated Dolce Diary extra exploring that backstory was released a little less than a year after Dolce was revealed, the preview to set up Fuuma’s backstory was actually the first thing released after the character bios on the Dolce Official Twitter page if you exclude a drawing of Dolce from Yamako. The second argument could be that information about his sister was intentionally withheld to set up the reveal when Fuuma’s extra released to explore it. However, going by that logic (which I do agree with), that would also mean that Fuuma’s inclusion and importance in Kazuki’s character bio also set up his dedicated extra, which I don’t think would be incorrect to assume considering what his actual extra turned out being.

Which brings me to the thing that makes it inexplicable to write off the romantic implications behind Kazufuuma: Kazuki’s dedicated Dolce Diary extra, Suki. I shipped Kazufuuma before even knowing of Suki, sure. But the fact that Suki even exists is a shock to me and drove into me the fact that Kazufuuma wasn’t just my own projection. Again, it’s not a surprise that Fuuma shapes Kazuki’s life. They’re childhood friends, of course they’re going to be important to each other. But this extra explicitly brought Kazuki’s feelings towards Fuuma under a direct spotlight. At first I was thinking oh, this extra was just to acknowledge the fact that Kazuki and Fuuma’s relationship can have romantic implications, but the end of it the conclusion that we got was that it didn’t matter what type of “like” he felt for Fuuma. Originally, I thought it wasn’t anything more than saying there are all types of like, and it doesn’t always need to be explicitly defined, but I appreciated the fact they were aware that they were writing Kazuki in a way that conveyed romantic implications. 

Then I thought about it because, again, I love Kazuki of course I’m going to think about his character extra, and realized...that’s not how these character extras have worked. There are only three character extras out as far as I know and have read: Fuuma, Kippei, and Kazuki. If we look at Fuuma and Kippei’s, each extra had a conclusion, sure, but they didn’t have a resolution. Rather, they were simply setting up explicitly what each character’s primary character arc and conflict were. Fuuma’s extra brought attention to the fact that he’s particularly a crossdressing idol by exploring the motives behind it. His choice to be a crossdressing idol is constantly under fire both by himself and the world around him. He’s not immune to those who consider his crossdressing strange, and a part of his story is both finding people who accept his decision to crossdress and to succeed for himself as a crossdressing idol. It’s an essential part of how we understand and define him as a character and it’s a central part of how he interacts with the world around him. For Kippei, it lays the severity of his insecurity under the spotlight and his journey and motives for improving himself. Again, this isn’t something isolated and resolved in the extra; his extreme insecurity and negativity is constantly affecting how he interacts with practically everyone from his fellow Dolce members to his fans despite the fact in all honesty? He’s fucking insanely talented in his own right, his own brother mentioning how smart he is and how he has amazing reflexes. For Kippei, his negativity is an essential part of how we understand and define him and central to how he interacts with the world as much as Fuuma’s decision to crossdress is to him.

Which brings us back to Kazuki, of course. In his dedicated extra, in the chapter that’s supposed to explore and establish and bring attention to an essential part of his character, the aspect of himself under investigation is how he feels about Fuuma. It’s not just how he behaves around Fuuma, it’s explicitly an exploration of his feelings, on top of the fact it’s explicitly an exploration about whether or not he likes Fuuma r o m a n t i c a l l y. Literally the conflict is spurred on by someone outright asking “Do you like him?” and having to clarify “I mean romantically.” What they decided to focus on for Kazuki’s character and emphasize and establish is that Kazuki’s like towards Fuuma toes the line between friendship and romance. His ambiguous feelings towards Fuuma (if we leave them inconclusive as Suki did) are just like Fuuma’s crossdressing and Kippei’s insecurity in the sense the weight of whatever those feelings may be are seen in how he interacts with the world around him and influences his behaviors. It would be another story if they introduced the potential and shut it down all within the extra, because then his central conflict would to me be less directly open to romantic potential and more simply about how his arc was meant to explore the dynamic of the behavior of an extremely dedicated best friend. The fact that he may be romantically attracted to Fuuma or may be only platonically dedicated to Fuuma is instead something that looms over Kazuki in the same way Fuuma’s decision to crossdress constantly looms over him. It’s what Dolce wanted to point to and say this is Kazuki’s central character conflict and central arc: exploring what type of feelings he has towards Fuuma. 

Sure, it can be argued that there’s only three Dolce Diary character extras, there’s not enough to be sure about that being the purpose of the extras unless we get the other two’s extras. First, at this point I honestly don’t know if or when they’re going to release an extra revolving around Sara and Girisha just because not only has it been over a year and a half since the latest Dolce Diary Character Extra (Kazuki’s) was released despite the gap between the first and latest Dolce Diary Character Extra (Fuuma’s and Kazuki’s) were within a year of release but also because the Dolce 4komas and comics they’ve been posting to Twitter have decreased (last one being over half a year ago) potentially due to them deciding to focus on releasing Dolce manga content through the purchasable volumes instead. (This is not particularly related to the Kazufuuma argument, just wanted to put out there my two cents on what Sara and Girisha’s extra/focal arc would be. Based on a large part of the Dolce Diary in conjuncture with Can’t an Idol Fall in Love, I’d argue Sara’s would be his journey to regain his passion for performing, and if it’s not that I’d say it’d be coming out of his self-imposed isolation and opening up to people again. As for Girisha, I have less of a concrete idea but I’m assuming it’d be something pertaining to how people often misconceive him whether it be in tandem with his determination, his optimism and sociability, or his stupidity/ability to ignore those misconceptions and work past them. But Girisha is treated like the comedic relief 90% of the time so I’m not entirely sure, but his primary conflict is definitely rooted in misconceptions of him being his roadblock imo. #MoreGirishaContentPlz) That being said, I personally feel like the three are already enough evidence, especially considering it would be honestly even more cruel for Kazuki’s character-centric extra to be focusing on something that wasn’t essential to his character and character arc, anyway. And though it’s not explicitly stated that these chapters are extras exploring a central character, you can kind of tell based on how they are (to my knowledge) the only Dolce Diary updates with cover/title cards each which include their focal character front and center. So working off that fact, the Kazuki-centric chapter established that a pillar to his narrative was his feelings towards Fuuma and that those feelings are still open to romantic potential. 

But if you follow me, this is why up until Can’t an Idol Fall in Love With Another Idol’s release, I was terrified of them writing that off. I would have been ok if it was just an arc that was given attention then continued to actively work in the background, as all the character arcs have been over all of Dolce’s content. The fact that they might be giving Fuuma a love interest and giving Fuuma a love arc while Kazuki’s feelings were still up in the air and were still the primary highlighted narrative for him would have been fucking scuffed. To me, it would be like… why would they make him so Fuuma-centric to the point that even his dedicated chapter was not just focused on Fuuma but focused on the ambiguity and potential of him having romantic feelings for Fuuma, yet reduce him to being Fuuma's designated right-hand man. Don’t get me wrong, friendships are just as important as romantic relationships. But again, rather than conclude Kazuki’s answer in Suki to be that his feelings were of friendship, they left it open ended and allow audience members to be actively aware that Kazuki’s feelings towards Fuuma still had potential to be romantically coded. It would just be so weird to quickly close off that narrative by giving Fuuma a love interest as opposed to letting Kazuki conclude it himself. It would be fucking beyond frustrating for me, at least Eventually, I kept trying to drive my hopes that they would explore Kazuki’s narrative at all down to the ground because it was a Fuuma-centric novel; maybe if anything they’d explore those feelings in his own novel after the fact. But then they kept having little drops here and there of Kazuki being even the slightest bit relevant and I’d go back to questioning “Are??? They??? Is this on purpose??? Do they know what they’re doing or are they just doing this because Kazuki’s just so important to Fuuma as his best friend that he’s there as his right-hand I genuinely can’t tell???” And um. Welp.

Safe to say Can’t An Idol Fall in Love sold me on the fact that they know what they’re doing LOL. And to anyone who thinks that Kazuki’s feelings can still be read as ambiguous in CAIFILWAI as opposed to explicitly romantic - whether it be due to a fear they may pull the “I like him as a friend” card or due to the disbelief that they have an explicit mlm main character in the Honeyworks series - I’d like to cover any bases that may make you think this way. If you think it’s just Kazuki acting like a protective friend, why do you think he calls Yui a rival? If you’ve only seen the MV and think it’s ambiguous or can be taken as the "likfe" for friend, then does that mean you think Yui’s feelings toward Fuuma are also ambiguous or as a friend? With the way Yui responds, she is trying to rival Kazuki’s feelings towards Fuuma. She and Kazuki recognize whatever feeling it is that they hold towards Fuuma, both of their feelings are the same type. I don’t think most people would argue that Yui’s confession about Fuuma was one of pure respect and friendship. Plus, if anything I’d argue of the three characters in the MV, Fuuma is the one whose feelings are left the most ambiguous despite him being the central character. It’s heavily implied that he may be forming feelings for Yui, but nowhere is it established either in the song or in the MV, especially if you compare it to Kazuki and Yui’s declarations or if you compare it to Sara’s feelings for Uru in Can’t An Idol Fall in Love. Fuuma’s romantic narrative here is trying to figure out how he feels for Yui, while for Kazuki and Yui they’ve established a rivalry because they both have mutually established they like Fuuma romantically.

If the MV isn’t enough for you and Suki isn’t enough for you for...some reason…??? You can check out the snippets of the light novel which the wonderful takanenene translated: one which revisits the conflict set up in Suki and one that covers the confession scene in the MV in more detail. If the fact that the conflict set up in Suki (aka the lurking feeling of not knowing if all he felt for Fuuma was only platonic or more than platonic) was specifically reestablished in the LN for anyone who didn’t keep up with Dolce Diary didn’t tip you off that it was something important, his behavior in the confession scene as depicted by the LN definitely should have. He’s possessive about his spot by Fuuma’s side. He doesn’t want that spot to be taken by anyone else. Even if he knows that they can help Fuuma, he wants it to be him. And this line: “Kazuki then trails off his words, quietly saying ‘That’s why…’ and then gave Yui a slightly painful smile, his cheeks turning red,” before he declares Yui a rival and states he likes Fuuma. If you can tell me you read that line and are still on the fence about Kazuki’s “like” towards Fuuma being romantic, please message me and I will see how I can get through to you. Like it wasn’t even just a romantically coded confession. It’s just a romantic confession. That “like” is romantic. And I’m so proud that he’s not only come to understand for himself how he feels, but that he’s confident enough to ask the person he sees as a romantic rival to speak in private and not only clarify her feelings for Fuuma but before she can even do that firmly establishes that he loves Fuuma with conviction. Kazuki my boy I’m so proud of you. *sniffs*

And that’s it for establishing Kazufuuma as at least canonically one-sidedly canon and why there’s not only no reason to deny it but also why denying it is a fucking disrespectful move towards Kazuki. He’s a character, sure, but that doesn’t change the fact you shouldn’t write off his struggle to come to be convicted enough to say it out loud. This has been something weighing on him at least a year, if not more (all I know is it started when both he and Fuuma were in some year in middle school). And as a character in a piece of media, I’ve been saying this the entire time, but brushing it off as non-romantic is literally chucking a fucking pillar of his character’s story into the gutter. And to those who may be saying Kazuki’s confession came out of nowhere and is pandering reread this entire fucking essay again I dare you to do it and tell me to my face it’s pandering. Again. Writing off the buildup as pandering is disrespectful to him, disrespectful to his character and narrative, and disrespectful to the wonderful people who have been creating Dolce so diligently and have crafted this narrative for us. Saying his “supposed feelings” and “ambiguous confession” is pandering is like saying Fuuma’s crossdressing is pandering which. If you say either of those I will find you and I will shank you in the fucking gut. Even if you’re not fully into Dolce, recognize these characters are actually very well developed and executed amazingly, as per every Honeyworks character that has come to exist. I don’t blame you if you weren’t aware of the weight of Kazufuuma, but now that you read this I hope you are. That’s mainly what I needed to get out there, but as follows will be me more exploring how Kazufuuma has been built up and generally waving my hand off at where it may be going. If you want you can dip, thanks for reading up to here because I know I repeated a lot because it’s just. So important to drill into your head and has been something I’ve been hung up about constantly. LOL

As for where exactly they’re taking it from this point on, I honestly don’t know. In all honesty, I didn’t even expect them to take it the direction they did. But honestly, I think the direction they went with it is really interesting and better than I could have imagined, in my opinion at least. Honeyworks never ceases to amaze me with their storytelling and narrative choices, and I don’t think there’s any that stand out to me as being severely questionable that they haven’t reapproached at some point down the line. And, again, I think they’re treating this with a lot of care and deserved respect. So I’m just gonna be gushing about how smart they set it up and how smart they’ve been executing it and maybe my own hopes on the direction it could go.

Whether they make Kazufuuma reciprocated I have no real clue or bearings, but to me my gut reaction is they will. Of course, I’m biased, but again if you trace things all the way back to 2018 and step through Dolce’s content and growth from there, I’d say even if they didn’t know if they could execute it like this and see it to fruition, I’d argue that Kazufuuma has been at least heavily implied since the beginning as a relationship they wanted to explore from both sides of the relationship. Obviously I brought up Kazuki’s character bio already, but if you look at the *goes to count* 5th Dolce Diary update already has a joke jabbing at the fact that Kazuki is technically Fuuma’s type (and the way Kippei and Kazuki excitedly react is so cute). The fifth update. And as stated before there are tons of Kazufuuma moments in Dolce Diary, whether it’s played for comedic effect or played straight (and this is post Suki but oh my god I’ve said it before I’ll say it again get yourself someone who looks at you the way Kazuki looks at Fuuma oh my jesus). But song-wise, I mentioned the one Dolce album song I would bring up is Nade Nade and this is where it comes! 

Not only is Nade Nade specifically focused on Kazuki and Fuuma’s relationship as opposed to the whole of Dolce despite being the first song, it included the setup/preview of the Fuuma-centric extra prior to the full release of the Fuuma-centric extra itself and was released early as fuck. Literally between the 6th and 7th update to Dolce Diary. Sure, it could be to isolate them as a duo for marketing purposes (they’re very often the two promoted idols together if the whole of the group aren’t included), but the way it’s established as a perspective song as opposed to a general idol duet is what fascinates me. Anyone who didn’t know about Dolce prior and only followed Honeyworks for music would be first introduced to these characters through this song alone, and maybe this is where my Kazufuuma bias comes from but I was one of those people LOL. I thought it was just a cute one-off relationship that they had set up for the purpose of a song and that it was an implied friends-to-lovers story that would never get a conclusion. Also I mistakenly thought Fuuma was a girl oop-. In the full context of Dolce, this song in part helped establish Fuuma and Kazuki more solidly as a unique duo out of all of Dolce, but it also specifically explored through Fuuma’s eyes just how much Fuuma recognizes and appreciates the unwavering support Kazuki gives him to follow his dreams as he wishes. For Fuuma, he loves Kazuki too, though whether it holds any romantic potential in the same way Kazuki loves him has never been explored to nearly the same extent. But Fuuma appreciates how Kazuki’s remained by his side and does everything he can to support him, so Nade Nade explores how his way of expressing his love and thankfulness to Kazuki is by never saying that he needs Kazuki by his side. He’s glad Kazuki’s always been there for him, and his reciprocation takes on the form of being ready to unwaveringly support Kazuki and not ask for more than he already has, even if it meant Kazuki would be leaving his side, despite the fact that he really does wish they could remain together forever just as Kazuki does. The one point he lets himself say something vaguely close to always wanting to stay together, he gets a surprised expression out of Kazuki and says an ambiguous “suki dayo.” Of course, this it much less romantically coded than what we get from Kazuki in Suki and CAIFILWAI, but there is an interesting emphasis put on it nonetheless. Keep in mind, this is all established through the song, which released long before not only Fuuma’s character-centric extra released but also Kazuki’s character-centric extra released, so there is at least a substantial setup for Fuuma’s feelings towards Kazuki’s being strong as well and possibly grow to be reciprocated one day.

I think for me the most fascinating part about Nade Nade is how they tied it back around to Can’t An Idol Fall In Love with Another Idol. Again, without remembering Nade Nade, I still thought CAIFILWAI was brilliantly explored and executed, even if some people would have preferred no love triangle. But honestly, revisiting Nade Nade makes me trust even more the direction they’re taking with this. Whether or not they make Kazufuuma canon mutually (which. Even if they for some inexplicable reason didn’t I’m going down with this ship.), I’m sure they’re putting a lot of thought into the story, because the last bit of Nade Nade directly parallels the misunderstanding that arose from Fuuma mishearing the Kazuki and Yui. Fuuma is resolved to support Kazuki in any area he’s given the chance, and that explicitly includes if Kazuki had some girl he liked, which is what he assumes is going on. The fact that they tied this back around in the form of a misunderstanding was really really smart and Honeyworks is always so good at parallels and references back to their older songs, but for some reason I didn’t expect this. I don’t know how to say why, but the fact that the song that started it all, kicked off both Dolce and Kazufuuma, was directly referenced both visually in the MV with a cameo at the start and narratively despite the central dynamic being predominantly explored in this story in particular was that of Fuuma and another potential love interest and involves said potential love interest for some reason makes me think that (sorry Yui) this is all planned out for Kazufuuma in the grand scheme of things. That being said, I don’t know if me thinking it was planned all along is just me with shipper goggles, but the idea it’s come full circle nearly 3 years later is not shipper goggles and a very very well done parallel in my opinion, whether this trajectory was their plan for Kazufuuma from the beginning or not. Just wanted to gush about that some more. 

There’s more I could go into especially if I went into specific details about interactions or specific implications established in Honeyworks' Dolce content about different characters that would be fascinating to explore in relation to and under the lens of Kazufuuma, but I think this is uh...plenty long enough. Plus, I doubt you'll stop seeing Kazufuuma posts from me so those ideas will probably just be miniposts or somethin.

Back to the overarching point of this segment, idk what they’ll do with this story in the end, but do I think Kazufuuma will canon? I’m used to looking at ships that aren’t explicitly apparent with a sliver of skepticism, but all things considered (as I stated before) yeah. I don’t see reason why they wouldn’t now that they’ve explicitly identified there is a romantic dimension to it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Like to me, the setup isn’t something that would be written off as unrequited? And this doesn’t have to play into why I don’t think it will canon, my personal opinion on the Fuuyui relationship (again albeit through the lens of a hard Kazufuuma shipper lmao) has it’s own merits and is really cute, I find it cute in the way I found Koyuhina cute. I personally never really shipped Koyuhina, and especially since they slipped Kotarou into Ima Suki Ni Naru I was more curious about who this kid was and how he played into things I didn’t really see Koyuhina as something that would come to fruition. Similarly, there’s more importance in the overall sense on Kazuki than there is Yui (considering he’s one of the 5 original and focal members of this generation of idols, this would be natural), as well as the fact there’s just way more foundation and exploration in Fuuma and Kazuki’s relationship than there is Fuuma and Yui. As for how much of a balance there is inside the LN itself, the fact that they seem to have spent a substantial amount relaying the foundation of Fuuma and Kazuki’s relationship and re-exploring it (at least in Kazuki’s perspective) at all on top of how much content there is covering their relationship prior to the LN ever since Dolce’s origin just feels like that relationship holds more weight. Pretty much Kazufuuma feels more established as a priority in general. The way I personally hope Fuuyui plays out is whether they wind up holding mutual feelings or not or whether Fuuma doesn’t feel that way towards Yui is they get a relationship akin to Kotarou and Arisa. Albeit, Kotarou and Arisa never viewed each other in a romantic light, but they had mutual respect and solidarity. That’s the type of friendship I hope comes out of Fuyui. And considering there hasn’t been a break-up in any Honeyworks’ canon relationships (nor do I expect there to be… they’re all perfect for each other LMAO) it would actually be interesting if Fuuyui get together but don’t endgame and Kazufuuma is established as the inseparable endgame after some realization or another, though I don’t expect them to go that route nor do I know if that’d be the best way to go about it anyway. Also final point, Honeyworks seems to have a thing for childhood friends trope anyway soooooo owo All in all, don’t know where they’re taking it, just excited to see where it goes. 

TL;DR of this *counts* 7 page essay, stan Kazufuuma. Not gonna proof this. Maybe I’ll edit and repost but yall are getting a confusing clusterfuck of ramblings over 2-3 hr periods of me writing across 3 different days at around 5am each day. Uh. If you got this far like and subscribe and-- jk plz reply to this mammoth anywhere you see fit or tell me if you have stuffs to add or counter or whatnot I like hearing people talk about Kazufuuma ;w; I am Kazuki and Kazufuuma brainrot can you tell after reading this? No? Lemme just remind you I’m K--

#honeyworks #dolce #kazufuuma #kazuki haiga #fuuma shirayuki #long post #analysis #character analysis #kinda? #nobody cares trash #also keep in mind this is PURELY for self satisfaction LMFAO read it if u wanna dont if u dont idgaf either way #anyway kazufuuma canon fight me #or have intellectual conversation with me #if you want it on a google doc bc it's easier to read hmu #if you can't tell i think about kazufuuma too much #how much of this is repetitive? probably a lot...

[sugar-petals]

Can u introduce yuzuru to us the caro way?👀

so you want to know about the one and only. ♡😌

yuzuru hanyū (25) of sendai, japan: the most beautiful ice prince with a heart of gold.

….an artist clearly not of this world, he’s been sent to us from another realm. 19 world records, two olympics won, dubbed the greatest figure skater of all time. and the most precious bean on top of that.

but let’s start from the beginning, shall we ♥︎

so, want to spot yuzu on the ice? use this checklist. slender silhouette, an even slimmer waist, feather-like outfits (he sketches those himself; the fandom lovingly calls him swanyu), soft blushy face. he has great androgyny.

outside of performances, you see him either with a deer’s gaze or the brightest, biggest eye smile. also, he’s usually found sitting with his wife: 

which is the ice 😄 these two are together forever. you can discern yuzu from a mile away by how he treats his working ground. 

there is a purity to him. you’d not guess that this is one of the most ardent athletes if you didn’t see what’s around his neck after competitions. the guy’s cuteness is as compelling as his skating technique.

look for it: yuzu’s face is super suave and rosy up close, even after his most energetic performances. some men are handsome, others pretty, he is both. 

even acoustically, he’s hard to miss. applause is all around, and he’s highly expressive. if you see a crying young man getting the high score, that’s yuzuru hanyu. you’ve not seen more beautiful happy tears.

and score reactions, anyway:

so, aye loves, the rumors are true. a cutie-pie off the ice, animated, a real unabashed meme — yuzu is easy-going, talkative. cheery, cheeky, one of a kind. his facial expressions are a league of their own.

if you thought this is the sort of guy who watches cat videos, you are correct 😄

yuz-uwu hanyu, everybody:

his undoubtedly feline behaviour is often unexpected, it stands out with its adorableness, too. a sweetheart par excellence. 

and, how else could it be: vice versa, the big beast on the rink. he’s cutesy, dorky, very well-spoken in daily life, but when it comes to skating, his seriousness escalates. you blink once and suddenly hanyu is a bedazzling, strutting lion :’D his performances stun with confident elegance.

he becomes full of ardor, drama, and focus. you’d never suspect so much fire burns in him. a showman and ambition icon, hands down. 

his skating is dynamic, perfected, and emotional. if you want to see art and the extra mile, tune in when hanyu competes.

the downside is; more light, more shadow. it leaves him crawling on the ice afterwards. yuzu performs so hard, it’s worrying.

he delivers it all. you won’t believe it:

this guy is an asthmatic.

the symptoms aren’t as bad as they used to be, but there are still regular attacks. he said that he’ll never take it as an excuse and often recalls how he started skating because of it. he’s a badass, extremely inspiring. yuzuru defies all limits, including gravity. his jumps have legendary status. 

off the rink, you guessed it: he turns into a wholly different person. 

it all dissolves completely when he’s dorking around again. 

don’t let it deceive you, he’s the no other option than first place type. he could not be any more decorated with titles, he achieved the grand slam in all competitions as of 2020. and still, king of sportsmanship hanyu is respectful and smiley towards all colleagues and never lets anyone feel left out. especially when it comes to his juniors (e.g. yuma kagiyama, 16, below) which says a lot about him.

he bows in every direction before an audience, too. lower than a 90° angle, even. this is more polite than any existing formality in japan.

talk about audience: i introduced fellow japanese skater shoma uno last week, who’s more uncomfortable with social contact and aggression. yuzu, extrovert he is: the exact opposite. he withers away with no people and competition. he’s befriended rivals, had crises over not having someone who could challenge him. when a competitor retires, he’s the one crying in their arms (e.g. with team mate and bff javier fernandez from spain below).

beside his competitive spirit and princely wow factor, hanyu is popular for his winnie pooh tissue box that he caresses, squeezes, and carries everywhere. he loves good luck charms & rituals, pooh is the most important one.

fans throw pooh plushies on the ice after his performances because of it. since it’s gotten so intense, yuzu recently started cleaning them up himself on top of the flower girls for the upcoming skater who could get delayed otherwise. (more about what happens with the piles of plushies later.)

so, the burning question is. 

what made yuzuru hanyu emerge so outstanding an entertainer? how does someone causing so much uproar become like that? it’s not just what kind of appearance he was given, although he really looks his part to a T. you don’t have to be an insider to see it right away.

like literally to a fault. and you can tell the way his blades sound on the ice is different. it’s soft even if he does the most hardcore quadruple jumps. i think it’s because his drive to do this is a higher one, hanyu has an altered relationship with the ice. where his devotion comes from has a more severe reason so, massive trigger warning. 

this is no exaggeration: yuzuru is considered a hero to the japanese. a survivor of the earthquake 2011, he narrowly escaped the collapsing rink in his hometown on that very day. he’s often talked about how the ice shattered underneath his feet and it was the moment that defined his life forever. he could have been dead by the age of 16. his motivation has been set ever since. this man is compelled by something bigger, that’s why you hear it and you feel it. he wants to skate not just for himself but others and seize every day. 

much of his copious charity work — that’s where all the pooh plushies go — went to mend the consequences of the tsunami ever since, he’s looked upon as a great hope in japan. the minister gave him the people’s honor award in 2018. 

now you know why yuzuru has such a fanbase and treats the ice as sacred, you see it in every gesture. his manners are without a single flaw, he helps staff repair the ice after performances. 

you might think it’s odd, but he honors the ground. he’s invested in the integrity of it. that’s why he’s the best skater. it’s gratitude and the will to live fully.

he hates to fall on the ice, he hates to damage it. alongside his feathery weight, that’s why the sound he makes while gliding along is so tender. 

i think that’s also why hanyu’s signature element is the ina bauer. it doesn’t rely on brutal force, instead this element slides across the rink like a swan. yeah, oh my god.

it’s his most well-known dramatic move. the way he surrenders into it. 

hanyu’s back arch and perfect split allow him to do elements no other male skaters can. his biellmann spin, for instance. i know, it’s ridiculous.

and those are just two elements of dozens and dozens. hanyu is a kinetic wizard. i highly rec this record-breaking delivery of his olympic program. in front of his home crowd! he’s just… mind-boggling. i live for his smiles here.

exceptional skater, exceptional mentor: it’s time we look at another puzzle piece that made yuzu the way he is. the masterful brian orser is hanyu’s beloved coach. missing gold by just one mistake at the olympics 1988, brian is now committed to give others what he couldn’t have— successfully so.

orser took the ice prince to gold twice, this hasn’t happened in 66 years. brian is the nicest and most supportive pooh carrier and yuzu’s utmost rock. hanyu’s talent rests safely in these hands.

he gets strict about punctuality lmao! but other than that, his guidance is gentle. canadian he is, brian’s courteousness mixes well with yuzu’s politeness. their bond is strong. as. hell. 

brian picked up yuzu from rock bottom several times. most fateful being hanyu’s accident with a fellow skater during competition warm-ups nov 2014. they collided at a high speed, it was unspeakably nasty. yuzu got knocked out for half a minute and had grave breathing problems but still decided to skate on with what later turned out as an almost-concussion. brian was the most worried ice dad in the world that day.

yuzu cried and crouched and bled like mad and my heart has been broken ever since. i hope he never suffers like that again. promise me you don’t search up the video, it’s a harrowing watch like a stab to the chest. sadly enough, hanyu’s body has still been a notorious wreck, esp. ankle issues regularly give him a hard time 😔

it hurts like a bitch with every jump landing but he takes meds and still manages to win, god knows how. sometimes even with crutches on the podium. at his worst, he’s still the best, it’s a tragedy.

he’s been recovering, or always is, but he pushes himself through injuries. his ambition and perfectionism are boundless. the cause is more important to him than his well-being. this is not an easy guy to stan once you see how he sacrifices and self-destructs. so, it’s good someone protects him. 

mostly from himself because nobody has profoundly surpassed hanyu. he has let himself no choice than to contest himself. not even health, only age can stop yuzu. i think that brian understands this ‘curse of a genius’ effect. his mere presence can make hanyu say these rare words:

his two other coaches contribute to that. tracy wilson (left) has proven to understand his playful side the best while ghislain briand (right) helps yuzuru deal with his fears. so you got 3 people taking care of the golden boy. brian once said: “he is very sheltered” and you can see it’s true.

yuzu eased into learning english and communicates well with his coaches. like with everything, he studies hard and often forces himself to speak during interviews to practice. his skills are astounding. his speaking voice is also very soothing, very amicably low and high alike. yuzu is highly intelligent. he always says something eloquent and interesting.

now, privately, hanyu is very much like you’d expect someone so devoted to skating would be like. he doesn’t go out, has no social media, can’t eat nor sleep very well. no cameras allowed during practice. it figures he is attached to winnie pooh, think about it. in the cartoon, pooh is someone who sleeps, eats, and engages with friends plenty. 

these are the things hanyu can’t do, doesn’t have time/energy/incentive for. he is barred from balance in life but can at least admire this little carefree plushie for it. especially because pooh represents eating lots while yuzuru doesn’t have a good relationship with food (he says it doesn’t go well with jumps etc.), hanyu lives vicariously through him. 

what’s more, you have to see how he throws himself onto others and never wants to let go, yuzuru is extremely cuddly. 

to the degree that mere social customs can’t meet how much he really needs. so, what else can he resort to, he loves mascots and plushies. it’s how the tale goes in japan generally, tough work ethic, high responsibility, high pressure, so people turn to cute fluffy things.

he always fondles pooh’s head, even pretends he’s come to life so he has someone to snuggle with. i think that his isolated lifestyle doesn’t help. so, he gets his affection at least there, you can see how happy it makes him. and again: he does this all for charity.

that’s why fellow skaters are so important to hanyu. it really brings out his social spirit and comforts him best, it’s so wholesome. i’ve not seen someone react so relieved to being embraced, like he’s not been touched for months. skating this, skating that. at the end of the day, hanyu wants love.

as he once said, what motivates him is to express himself in the first place. hanyu is a romantic. it’s written all over him. it reflects in his music choices, his elegant motion, how he designs his outfits:

… and how thoughtfully he talks about marriage. he has big plans for starting a family and coaching after he retires. i won’t be the only one squeezing lucky charm pooh in my imagination so it turns out well for him. please make this heart of gold heal and see all his wishes come true ♡🐻

#thank you for attending this talk ❄️⛸ #i need a moment this was emotional #figure skating #yuzuru hanyu #brian orser #anon #cub mail 🐅 #long post #team japan

[topsyturvy-dream]

Artist’s Notes: Here it is! My first official newly drawn art for Kinktober: Itachi x OC from my Naruto OC Series! I really enjoyed creating this, and this is definitely one of my most favourite artworks, but I guess it’s because I just love Itachi a whole lot 🥰 Anyway, I’m so excited to show you all the full versions (with extra two versions that have a surprise detail 😉), which you can find in my Twitter @ topsyturvydream (I didn’t want to put the link here because linked posts apparently don’t appear in the main tags). I’ve also written some smutty Itachi headcanons for you! Enjoy 💕

Smutty Headcanons for Uchiha Itachi

When with Itachi, you make love. Seriously, sex with him is almost always very intimate. Because Itachi (and Uchihas) love deeply, sex is one way in which he can be vulnerable towards you and express his deep feelings of love and tenderness for you

This is not to say that it’s always just making love, okay. There are times when Itachi can go rough. For instance, after a particularly satisfying training session with you – seeing you panting, flustered, and glowing from a good work-out – he’ll get so aroused and would want to just take you then and there

Itachi’s favourite body part of his is his hair (on his head, okay). He takes great care of his locks, because he loves how beautifully it grows and it low-key reminds him of mother’s soft, long locks, which leads to memories of happier times with his family

Although he’s really careful with the upkeep of his hair, definitely tug on it especially during sex. It’s the equivalent of scratching your lover on his back during sex, and it really turns him on

On that note, Itachi definitely shaves his hair down there. It’s more of a functional reason, especially since he’s always out on missions and only have limited time to clean himself up

In an AU where he gets to live happily (see: my unreleased Naruto OC Series headcanons for Itachi), he’s part of the ANBU for a longer time. Their missions are usually time-sensitive, so most ANBU members shave off their body hair because they usually don’t have the time to do stopovers and clean themselves up properly on the go

Though there are times when Itachi can’t be bothered and just lets it grow, though he still trims and grooms it

His favourite body part of yours are your eyes. Having the Sharingan, people are usually reluctant to keep eye contact with him (and Uchihas in general) even during casual conversations

Which is why, he loves your eyes, because aside from not being afraid to look directly into his, your eyes hold a whole world of stories. He loves how expressive they are. He loves reading the different emotions run through them, whether you’re staring at him lovingly, with happiness, or giving him that sultry “come fuck me” look

So, whether it’s rough, playful, or romantic and passionate sex, he makes sure to hold eye contact with you. Plus, it really increases the intimacy and intensity of loving you. Hence, his favourite positions are typically those that allow you both to maintain eye contact, such as missionary and face-off

Bonus points when you make eye contact when going down on Itachi. The vision of you with your mouth wrapped around his cock and your eyes staring intently at him will make him cum faster

One of Itachi’s kinks is Shibari, which is a Japanese artistic rope bondage. Aside from the aesthetics, Itachi enjoys the intimate connection of being able to tie you up using silk rope (his preferred type of rope) and learning more about your body

On the other hand, if you ask him to, Itachi doesn’t mind being tied up by you sometimes. Being a high-ranking ninja, he’s used to always being in control and taking the lead in missions. And in a world where the Uchiha clan survives, he is the destined heir of the Uchiha clan, so he definitely will hold a lot of influence and power. Hence, he wouldn’t mind releasing control to you, trusting that you’ll take good care of him both in your relationship and in bed

When he’s all tied up, spice with up with a blindfold and make him explore his different senses. And then, definitely edge and / or overstimulate him. It won’t take long, and Itachi will be in a euphoric state – seeing his pretty face flushing, hearing his moaning and whimpering “p-please”, holding his straining cock, and finally allowing him that sweet satisfying release

Prepare for lots of snuggling, cuddling, and kisses after sex with Itachi. If you’re both not that tired enough to fall asleep right after, you will most likely end up having deep conversations about everything and nothing. You’re basically in your own little world, basking in each other’s presence without the stresses of reality. And really, just enjoy your time together because it will be some of the best memories you will have created together

#uchiha itachi #itachi #itachi uchiha #naruto headcanons #naruto fanart #naruto imagines #itachi headcanons #naruto smut #itachi x oc #itachi x reader #my little artwork #my little writings #my smutty artwork #my smutty writings #originally i just wanted to draw art #but then i started thinking whether to include those smutty alphabet prompts for him #i only have ideas for some of the letters though so i just ended deciding to write headcanons instead #i also love seeing art of itachi with his hair untied #so i decided to draw two versions of him #remember this oc because she will be featuring in another art i have in store for this month! 😏

[greenninjagal-blog]

Stars Die (But We Don’t)

What is up everybody?! I’ve brought you more anxceit! This is the next story in my Space and Everything In It Series, which if you missed the first installment of, you can find it [here]!

Summary: Janus and Virgil have a talk about Scars, Death, and Names. Space is still a really big place.

Word Count: 7178

TW: talk of scars, survivors guilt,  death

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  

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“What am I supposed to say?” Janus said indignantly. Virgil hadn’t thought it was possible to miss the sound of something so annoying, but here he was, somehow grateful to hear the way that Janus’s tone conveyed absolutely no remorse for his actions. Condescending, patronizing, and snooty.

Apparently, very little about him had changed at all in the three years he had been declared dead, funneled through space, and ended up a very loyal member of Remus Prince’s Sucky Space Crew Extravaganza. The warmth in Virgil’s chest seemed spread, until he couldn’t quite place if it was an emotion or just part of being close to Janus again, like the way that Roman’s tail wagged the more Erefrens he was around.

“You could start with “Hey Patton, sorry for almost shoving a knife in your eye”.” Virgil suggested as he pressed the alien aloe to the cuts on Janus’s face as lightly as he could. Janus still hissed out a curse-- one of the many he seemed to know. Virgil thought that maybe that was his specialty because he had lost count of the scraps of languages that Janus had spouted.

“Sorry, Sorry,” Virgil muttered, “This is the last one.”

“That shit burns,” Janus whined because he was still the untouchable golden boy who had never even skinned his knees before he met Virgil.

“Sorry,” Virgil said because he was still the stupid kid who hated seeing others in pain. 

Janus pulled back slightly, just an inch or two out of Virgil’s reach. His eyes danced with a mischievous light, as he fluttered his eyelashes ever so innocently. “Kiss it better for me, Vee?”

“Kissing?” Virgil repeated, pretending like he wasn’t already leaning forward just a bit, like he hadn’t been eyeing the soft pick of Janus’s lips through their entire previous discussion, like the fact that Janus’s shirt was not his own through this whole thing was entirely coincidence and not by both their designs. “I don’t know, Jan…. on my Christian Minecraft server?”

Janus laughed, and Virgil was almost certain that sound alone added seventeen years to his lifespan. It felt a bit like serotonin being directly injected into his bloodstream, making him absolutely stupid happy. Or perhaps that was just part of being near him, like the warmth in his chest. Maybe somewhere in the three years they had been apart Janus had developed a superpower, like an off brand power ranger who had a really pretty smile.

“Oh, chastity,” Janus said, “Thou art my biggest foe!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, scooped a glob of the aloe on two fingers, and swiped up to catch the bottom of his chin. Janus tossed his head back hissing.

“Betrayal!” He whined scooting away.

“Janus!” Virgil laughed, “Come on, stop being a child!”

“My own best friend!” Janus continued, “Betraying me!”

“Is that what this is?” Virgil muttered chasing after Janus with the aloe, “Trying to take care of you is a betrayal, now?”

Janus hissed again as Virgil made contact and the aloe did its job accelerating the speed at which the scars on his face were healing. It had only been two days since the incident-- two days since they had come face to face on that Pol’turian ship, two days since Janus had nearly killed Patton with a knife, two days since their very close call in the teleporting room and just barely managing to get back to their own ship. But even so the cuts on his face already looked several weeks old. The new scar tissue was pale and light and looked hella cool in Virgil’s opinion.

He just wished that the way that Janus had gotten said scars wasn’t because he had nearly been dismembered and literally sold for parts.

“How will I ever recover?” Janus playfully batted Virgil’s hand away again. “Oh Brutus! My brother! What have I done to incur a wrath like this?” He swung off the medical cot and fell to the floor in an over dramatic heap. He rolled over to stare up at Virgil, languidly draping his arm above his head, and smiled. Virgil who had seen galaxies, had seen suns and stars, had seen distant moons and auroras and nebulas, still thought that he was the prettiest site.

“Et tu, Brute?” Janus whispered.

“Oh my god,” Virgil snorted. “Please stop being a dramatic whiny bitch, will you?”

“Ah, but my dear Virge,” Janus kicked his foot up to tap Virgil’s own swinging feet, “Dramatic whiny bitch is my defining character trait.”

Virgil had a response, he did. But like every other instance where he ended up staring up at Janus for an extended amount of time, all his rational thought evaporated. It was definitely some sort of superpower and Virgil would defend that theory until the end of his days. There was something about his eyes that were so hypnotizing, something about his lips that were mesmerizing, something about the softness of his skin and the twitch of his nose that made the whole world melt away. Virgil could stare at him forever if Janus let him; could drink in the sight of him and live on just the glimpse of his brown curls bouncing to the tune of his voice. 

Even when he was lying on the floor there was a way that he held himself that was so undeniably Janus-like, Virgil couldn’t really explain it. He was smooth as silk, with a tongue sharper than a knife and twice as cutting. With just a word or expression he could change the atmosphere of the entities around himself, befriend a foe, slaughter a friend, raze the world and all its inhabitants. Janus Ekans had always been something that very few people could look away from.

But so very few people had been able to actually see him. In light of empty words and pretty promises and cheshire smiles, Janus had become a master of the English language (and Spanish and Japanese too) and then used those syllables to build the facade around him.

Virgil had taken a sledgehammer to that facade once and no one had forgiven him for it.

“Are you even listening to me?” Janus cried out from the floor, pitifully whiny and offended and all those things that rich white boys were when they weren’t the focus of attention. “Virgil! How can I complain about the state of your betrayal when you aren’t even paying attention to me?! This is an outrage! The disrespect!”

He tossed his other arm up and over his head letting them both sit on the pristine floor and the sliver of his stomach peeked from under his borrowed shirt. (It was Virgil’s shirt, the cleanest one he had and it fit him well all things considered.) Virgil’s eyes were drawn to the pale skin like a moth to a flame, drawn in and frozen in place.

Janus’s laugh died, “...Virgil?”

Virgil placed the open container of aloe on the medical bed and hopped down to the floor, so he was right next to Janus, his fingers hovering lightly over where the shirt had been moved and the pale skin that was marked by a crisscross of healed flesh. It was an old scar, but it wasn’t an old scar.

Because Virgil had seen Janus before, shirtless, like that time they had snuck out of Janus’s Mansion to go for a dip in the pool on a dare from one of them and Janus had tossed his shirt to the side right before doing a subpar cannonball. Or that time that they had gym and been forced to play some bastardized version of kickball and Janus had sweated his team's way to victory and peeled off his shirt halfway back to the locker rooms. Or that time that they had been hiding from the sweltering heat in the library during the summer and Janus had striped in front of about seven different people and made one girl faint.

Virgil had seen Janus shirtless before.

He had not seen that scar before.

So it was new, despite how old it looked.

“Oh,” Janus said chuckling, and lying back down with his eyes closed, “That’s from a Sblorp attack.” 

“A what.” Virgil repeated because there was no way that Janus had said that so casually.

Janus waves a hand up in the air in a flippant dismissive movement. “A Sblorp attack. You know Sblorps? I’m sure you’ve seen them before: Feathers? Fangs? An adoration for fresh flesh? I’m running out of words that start with F, here.”

Virgil carefully pressed up the lip of Janus’s shirt higher, hesitating in case Janus was about to smack his hands away. But all the other boy did was breathe deeply and sigh through his nose, watching him the way that he might have watched saturday cartoons (if Janus had ever had time to watch Saturday cartoons between his extra studying and being stupidly perfect).

The scar was a criss-cross, matching Virgil’s memory of the pointed teeth shape of a Sblorp. The jaw of it had definitely needed to unhinge in order to make the marks, digging in and gripping with the barbed notches. Sblorps were known for consuming flesh raw, for surprise attacks of unhinging their jaws to catch creatures wriggling on the ground, for latching on and never letting go. 

Virgil’s fingers ghosted over the old wounds, touching as featherlight as he could.

There had to have been a lot of blood, a lot of pain. And yet somehow Janus was still holding on to that passive smile, as if the memory was more fond than agonizing.

“It was my fault,” Janus said in lieu of explaining, “You know how Sblorps are afraid of anything bigger than them, right? Well Remus neglected to inform me that their fight-or-flight instincts are more like freeze-and-bite. I didn’t even see the thing until it was two inches from tearing out my large intestine.” He chuckled softly in a way that caused Virgil’s hovering fingers to make contact with his skin again.

“Ooh, cold,” Janus hummed, reaching down to catch his hands and weave their fingers together. “It took them forever to get that thing off me. Remus was laughing so hard he started oozing his goo or whatever it is.” 

“Toxin,” Virgil managed, “They… its a poison, that ignites all the pain receptors in the body.”

“Yeah that,” Janus squeezed his palm, then squinted and turned Virgil’s willing palm, “What’s this?”

At first Virgil wasn’t sure what had caught his eye. His hands were slender, but they had always been that way, more for the steady grace of piecing together electronics than for getting into fist fights, despite what the teachers at school always thought. He had calluses from work around the ship and a few scrapes on his knuckles from where he slammed it on the doorway yesterday while talking to Janus. His nails were bitten down to the quick from nineteen plus years of anxiety and three years of a miserable, directionless void when Janus had been dead and gone and past and Virgil was missing the company of his ghost. 

But Janus tilted his hand and revealed the faded red line along the side of his palm that ran from the base of his pinky to the heel of his hand. Janus rubbed his thumb along it, as if Virgil was delicate and breakable and fragile.

It almost made him want to snort: the idea that of the two of them, Virgil was the one that needed to be protected. Like Janus hadn’t been placed on that pedestal for all to see and never to be touched, like Janus hadn’t been the one who had chunks of his face carved into by an alien, like Janus hadn’t been declared dead by everyone back on Earth.

Janus looked at the mark, scarcely a scar and more of a reminder, and tutted softly. “What happened?”

“It was nothing,” Virgil said.

“You are a terrible liar still.”

Virgil blew out a breath, somewhere between annoyed and comforted by the way that he was so easily read by the other human. 

“Come on, I shared about mine,” Janus sat up as he spoke until they were sitting only a hair's breadth away from each other and their hands linked between them.

Virgil stuck his tongue in his cheek and glanced around the rest of the medical bay. It was empty except for the two of them, although it really shouldn’t have been. With the amount of damage Remus had taken he shouldn’t have been up and walking for weeks, but Remus wouldn’t let a simple thing like his own personal health and wellbeing stop him from terrorizing Roman. Virgil wasn’t sure where he had snuck off too, but after two days and dozens of escape attempts, Virgil had just stopped caring. Remus was Roman’s problem now.

Janus leaned forward. “Virrrrrgil!” He sang. “You can tell me anything!”

“Oh, can I?” Virgil said, also leaning forward. “Anything at all?”

“Absolutely! I’m a great secret keeper!”

Virgil leaned in, leaned in so close he could feel Janus’s breath on his cheeks, leaned in and squeezed their fingers together. “Hmmm…. Okay, how about this: I am in love with this boy.”

“No way,” Janus faux-gasped. “You’re gay?”

Virgil struggled to keep the smile off his face. “I am in love with this boy and he’s really pretty. Like super pretty.”

“Just pretty?”

“Oh no, He’s pretty and he’s a smartass.”

“You think my ass is smart?”

“Who said it was you? I was talking about Roman.”

Janus squawked, reeling back, like the words were a physical blow to his ego but he was laughing all the way. He tried to separate their hands but Virgil held tight and Janus yanked him forward. Before Virgil knew what had happened, he was lying on top of Janus, his forearm framing Janus’s head, and pressing his stomach to Janus’s chest.

“Hey,” Janus said in that same soft tone had that haunted Virgil’s most cherished memories: the late nights in Janus’s room, the early mornings when Virgil was trying to sneak out before the Mayor's security caught him, the quick greetings in the library before a study session.

“Hey yourself,” Virgil said, his own breaths tickling the wisps of his own hair falling over his eyes. He gently brushed his fingers through Janus’s own hair strands, teasing a lock or two between them. 

“So you really don’t want to tell me?” He asked, “After I shared my silly story?”

“I’d hardly call getting eaten by a Sblorp a silly story, Jan.”

“Perhaps you just lack imagination.”

“Perhaps you’ve spent too much time with Remus.”

Janus paused for a moment, offered a half shrug, and then conceded the point because he was such a good person. He smiled again, a bit of a crooked thing, craning his neck so that they bumped noses.

“What if I said please?” He offered. 

Virgil sighed, although he guessed it was really more of a laugh after all. How had he forgotten how stubborn Janus could be? How he could latch onto a concept (such as how a golden boy and a rebel punk could be friends) and simply will it into being with nothing but his determination?

“You can’t laugh about it,” Virgil said. “I’m serious.”

Janus happily squirmed under Virgil’s body weight, part of a victory dance that made Virgil want to kiss away that smug expression again. Instead he leveled a look down at his face-- a mistake if he had ever made one. His eyes were almost impossible to look away from once he started looking that deep. They were black holes, dilating when he looked at Virgil until they sucked him right in and promised to never let him go. His left eye was gold, like the summer sun rays through the tree branches back on Earth, his right eye was brown, like fresh chocolate chips ready to become ammo in an impromptu food fight, and staring at them both reminded him of the best days of his life. 

“The truth is….” Virgil sighed, “I fell down a flight of stairs.”

Janus laughed anyway, because he’s a liar at heart and for some reason Virgil found that very attractive and liked him anyway.

“Wait, really?” He giggled-- honest to god, giggled. Virgil shook his head, but laughter like that was contagious and it had him swallowing back a smile.

“Yes, really,” Virgil pursed his lips, “We were on this little planet, uh, K3-450-something, and I had caught this cold from some Dreyfel that we were ferrying across the sector and Patton had regulated me to the medical bay, but in my lovely sick haze I thought that it was some sort of virtual reality escape video game where the damage didn’t translate over--Oh god please shut up.”

Janus laughed so hard he actually dislodged Virgil from on top of him. “I can’t-- I can’t--!! Oh my god, a game?”

Virgil hid his face in his sweatshirt sleeves. “You said you wouldn’t laugh, asshole!”

“I--I’m s-sorry!” He did not sound sorry at all, Virgil noted. He sounded like he was taking immense pleasure in making Virgil’s ears turn brick red with embarrassment. “But I said... no such t-thing. A game? Did you have a health bar too?”

“I think you're due for a date with the airlock.”

“S-sorry can’t... hear you!” Janus wheezed. “Over the...sound of-- fucking video game!”

Virgil groaned folding his arms over his head and hiding as much of his face as he could. “See this is why I didn't want to tell you!”

Janus’s laugh filled the air, his gasping breaths, making Virgil’s heart do some type of improvised dance routine without his permission. He peeked, because of course Virgil wasn’t going to miss a chance to see the mirth adorning Janus’s face. He peeked and sucked in a breath at the way Janus laughed with his whole body, kicking his feet and curling around his abdomen as he imagined the 99 million ways that sickly Virgil had managed to toss himself down a flight of stairs and gain a scar for his troubles.

“Are you done yet?” Virgil said breathlessly. He had to keep a reputation after all, didn’t he? He didn’t want Roman or Logan glancing by and assuming that he was anything other than a grumpy, nervous disaster human, after all. What would they do if either of them realized Virgil was soft and weak for Janus’s smile?

“No- No!” Janus gasped. He rocked back on his spine and lifted his leg in the air so he could roll up his pant leg, and showed off a series of two slashes on his lower calf. “Okay! You see this?”

He waited for Virgil to drop his sleeves from covering his face, waited until he could see Virgil’s beat red embarrassed face himself, waited with a grin and tried to catch his breath against the threat of giggling forever at Virgil’s stupidity.

“Yes.” Virgil said.

“This,” Janus traced his calf muscle, circling the very clear mark, “This I got from a little old lady on T7-365 who was selling these bad luck charms in a market place, except that she was an undercover police force or something and when she saw that I was a Deathworlder she leapt the goddamn table--I’m not joking! This lady had to be like 400 years old and you know that Shylans rarely live past 200, right? I thought if I defended myself she was gonna shatter!”

Virgil poked his leg, “She did that?”

“Yes! Those claws….” He shook his head, quirking his lips upward. “Remus tackled the lady off me. I swear he nearly crushed her entirely. And the entire police force chased us all back to the ship. I thought we were gonna die. Almost left behind Bowers and Kyle in the frenzy and--” 

Janus stopped. Virgil felt his own stomach hollow out and his breath catch in his throat in an insurmountable lump. The words had left Janus’s mouth so suddenly they had bowled over the others and reality had locked back in place around them.

The medical bay, the cuts on Janus’s face, the death of the rest of his and Remus’s crew.

The friends and family that they had lost and that everyone had done their best to tiptoe around and not bring up. Virgil knew that it had been wrong, to just pretend like none of it had happened to him, but at the same time… he was watching Janus's spark of happiness drain from his body and leave an empty coldness in its place. 

And Virgil had always been a bit of a coward.

If he still had nightmares about the strangers he had been forced to fight in the Welsor fighting rings, of the dust and the pain and the terror, of the bloodlust and the memories that were so obscured by his need to forget that he could not remember the faces of those that he killed….

If Virgil was still haunted by ghosts without names, he couldn’t imagine the horror of being haunted by those that had them. 

Janus curled up slightly, the same way he had done once upon a time when they were strangers who thought they knew each other and Virgil’s parents refused to be proud of him for anything and Janus’s refused to be disappointed in him for everything.

He forced a laugh. “Its stupid, you know?” He said in a way that made Virgil think that it was absolutely not stupid at all in any way shape or form. 

“I keep…” Janus huffed, “I keep thinking...if we had just... God, Virgil there were so many times…if we had just been a few minutes slower and gotten caught by the police, or just hung out longer on any one of the moon bases... maybe they would-- they would--” 

He sucked in a breath and let it back out, long and slow and painful in a way that was beyond physical.

(Compared to Remus, he had very little damage done to him. No lasting bruises, no broken bones, no head injuries. Virgil hadn’t had to ask why; they all knew that Pol’turs like their merchandise to be as undamaged as possible.)

Virgil wanted to say something, wanted to say anything to bring back that smile to his face, wanted to tell him it was okay but even twelve years of school could not have prepared him for this type of bullshitting. It wasn’t okay, and he didn’t need to force Janus to call him on that lie too. 

“It was bad, Virgil.” Janus said, with his eyes closed and voice so soft it could have been drowned out by the silence of space. 

He sucked in a shaky breath, one that caused his entire body to tremble, one that made Virgil want to reach out and hold him tight and make himself a human shield between Janus and the pain of memories.

"I wasn't even close to any of them." Janus admitted, "I mean Remus picked me up off a dwarf planet, and you know being a human and all...no one wanted to get too close." He laughed humorless, "They thought I was gonna rip their throats out in their sleep for a while."

"Deathworlder perks," Virgil whispered. 

Janus snorted, nodding, "Perks, yeah right." He sighed into his hands. 

Virgil watched him, watched him as he ground the heel of his palms into his eyes, watched as those hands trailed upwards and hooked on his bangs, watched as he tugged on his hair the way he used to when they were studying chemistry and Virgil understood it immediately when Janus couldn't figure out the differences between intermolecular and intermolecular forces.

"I should've…" Janus started. "I should've--"

"Hey," Virgil cut in. Because his heart was twisting, because his chest was aching,  because his eyes were burning. Because Janus was in front of him and he was doing a song and dance that Virgil had done three years ago when that detective showed up at his house and asked what Virgil had been doing on the fourteenth of the month and if he had anyone to collaborate his alibi.

He reached out and tapped on Janus's hands and slipped his fingers under the palms and wedged open the tight holds.

"Hey," Virgil said, waiting until Janus looked at him, "It wasn't your fault."

"I should have--! Virgil! I should have--!" He floundered, flubbed, scrambled for words in a way he was completely unpracticed in. He yanked at his hands but Virgil was stronger and held him, "I could have...done something!"

"Like what?"

"What?"

Virgil moved so he was directly in front of Janus, so that there was no missing him, so that there was no mistaking him. He squeezed Janus's hands tight and ground and pressed their knees together. "Like. What.” He repeated, “What could you have done, Janus?"

He was shaking, or maybe that was Virgil. Maybe it was both of them. Shaking together, shaking apart, shaking.

"I--"

"Tell me what you could have done," Virgil said lowly, "that wouldn't have cost you your life in the process?"

It was a selfish thing to say, but Virgil was a selfish creature. He hadn’t meant to be, hadn’t grown up being taught that way at all. If his parents had caught wind of how selfish and stupid and mean he had become they surely would have both had strokes. 

No, this was a type of selfishness that Virgil had learned and learned and then learned again. It was the selfishness that had reared its ugly head that night that Janus had caught up to him and begged to know how Virgil had known--known-- when the dirty little truth had been Virgil just being an awful person. It was a selfishness that had snuck into his heart when his feet had dangling off the fenced balcony and his lips had tasted like “Blackberry Breezer” and Janus’s had tasted like “Bahama Mama” and Virgil couldn’t decided if he liked the taste of them together or not. It was a selfishness that had torn him to pieces when he couldn’t tear his eyes off the empty desk next to him in Spanish III, when the police would show up at his house four days of the week and follow him around the town whenever he left, when he’d been told that he was not invited to the funeral and he said he refused to go anyway because Janus had not been dead, couldn’t be dead, he wasn’t dead, damnit!

It was a selfishness that Virgil hadn’t remembered he had until the moment that he had seen Janus again on that Pol’tur ship, alive and breathing and real--

He squeezed Janus’s hands, held him tight, held him here in this moment.

Because he was selfish enough to want to tear Janus away from the past. Because he was selfish enough to be grateful. Because Virgil was a terrible, awful person and he was happy that Remus and Janus’s crew had been torn apart because it had meant that Janus hadn’t been.

It had been two days since everything, since the escape from the mercenary ship since they had recovered Remus and Janus, since Virgil’s entire world had been desperately turned upside down. 

Two days since Virgil had been gifted back a part of himself he thought he had lost forever.

Janus had been an ingrained part of him. The Ying to his Yang, the inverse of himself, the funhouse mirror reflection at the world's crappiest funfair. When he had disappeared, Virgil had spent a year searching, waiting, hoping, praying. And it had gotten him nothing. 

Virgil had seen first hand how big the universe was, seen the most distant stars, escaped from the galaxy police, visited breathtaking moons-- Virgil had seen how massive Space With a Capital “S” really was.

And Virgil could have been on a distant moon. He could have been in space jail. He could have been back on Earth. He could have been anywhere in that massive amount of Space.

And Roman, Logan, and Patton could have been a few hours slower, a few days slower, they didn’t have to have gone after Remus at all, or Roman and Logan could have gotten Remus and then decided it was too big of a risk to go track down the mysterious last crew member-- 

And Janus could have died.

And he would have been just another nameless corpse.

And Virgil never would have known what had happened to the boy with two different colored eyes who had looked at him like he was something worth remembering. 

Virgil leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Janus’s, rubbing his thumb over Janus’s fingers, mixing their breaths together in a warm series of exhales and inhales and something else Virgil was too afraid to put a name too even after all this time.

“What could you have done?” He asked again, possibly a little desperately, possibly a little harsh, possibly a little mean and selfish and bad, “That wouldn’t have ended with you dead?”

Janus was shaking his head, moving it back and forth. There were words, incoherent and empty and Virgil heard them and felt his chest compress with every syllable. 

“Jan…” He said, dropping his hands to cup Janus’s face. His fingers haunted the marks on the cheek, reading the raised, healing scars like he was an expert in braille, trying to ignore the memory of blood where those cuts were.

“If I had just been faster...” Janus said brokenly. “They wouldn’t have been… I couldn’t...It should have been me, Virgil. I should have been--”

“Listen to me,” Virgil whispered, “Listen to me real well, Janus. Are you listening?”

Virgil brushed back a lock of Janus’s hair, brushed away the strands so he could stare into those nebulas he called eyes, brushed away the falling tears that reminded him of falling stars. It made his chest ache and heave with something distant and awful, made the words on his tongue feel meaningless and worthless. He wanted to understand, wanted to make Janus understand-- How could he not understand?

“I should have--” Janus said.

“No.” Virgil told him, “There’s no should haves or should have nots, okay? It happened, Jan. It happened and it was bad, but you can’t change it. If you keep thinking of things that should have happened, you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

But no that’s not right, Virgil thought even as he said it. Because the should-have-been-theres hadn’t driven him crazy. It had made him doubt himself,yeah, made him talk and beg deities he didn’t believe in, made him hate himself and the world and everything in it, but it never once made him crazy.

Empty, though. 

Empty was an entirely different story.

Janus had disappeared and Virgil had laid awake at night feeling like someone had removed the lungs right from his chest cavity and sold them to some Quitans on the black market.

And Virgil wouldn’t wish that feeling on Janus’s crappy parents, much less Janus himself.

“I keep thinking…” Janus whispered, “I wish it had been me. Instead of them. Why didn’t they take me first? Aliens don’t adhere to “best for last”! I don’t even adhere to “best for last”! I wish-- I wish--!”

Virgil’s throat went dry, too dry. “A very smart man once told me that wishing on stars is a stupid and pointless thing to do,” Virgil breathed softly. “Remember that?”

Janus huffed out a harsh laugh, a sarcastic, angry laugh that told Virgil that he was well aware of that sort of advice and who it had come from. 

“The stars don’t give a fuck about us.” He quoted, parroted, mimicked a version of himself that was four years younger, four years stupider, and four years a memory and nothing more. “I guess... I was right... about one thing, huh?”

The words he was going to say, all of the billions of them, got wedged in his esophagus, leaving barely enough room for him to breathe. He wheezed after Janus’s voice breaking, after the whimpering tone, after the crystal tears. 

How could he explain that Janus was always right? That Virgil would trust Janus over himself every time? 

He hoped that he could convey the message through telepathy or through his touch or something. Because if he had to say them out loud he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep himself from crying too.

Time passed, and Virgil didn’t think either of them really noticed. The lights in the medical bay didn’t change or dim and the door never opened. The halls of the rest of Roman’s ship were a respectful quiet that Virgil knew had nothing to do with either of them as much as Patton was reorganizing the cargo hold and doing an inventory check while Logan went through the communications they had missed and decided what job requests they should adhere to, and Roman and Remus were up on Bridge several floors away probably arguing because they had yet to stop really.

Time passed, and Janus didn’t say anything more, lapsing into that silent crying that he had perfected in the bathroom at their middle school because god forbid someone find out that Janus was fucking miserable being the center of attention every second of his life. Virgil kissed his temple featherlight and softly pressed their foreheads together. He didn’t move, even after his knees started to ache and both his feet started to fall asleep and Janus’s tears soaked through the sleeves of his sweatshirt and left his wrists feeling cold and uncomfortable.

Time passed, and Virgil counted Janus’s breaths the way he used to count the stars, back before he had ever thought about the possibility of actually going into space and the concept of alien life was as debatable as the idea of meeting Mothman one day.

“I…” Janus sniffled. Virgil waited patiently for him to finish, but he must have changed his mind because he just burrowed his head into Virgil’s shoulder, and breathed out shakily.

Janus fell into him like he was a blackhole, and Virgil did his best to hold them both up and keep his heart rate low and even and calming. He restarted his mental count of Janus’s breaths, feeling each inhale and exhale through his fingers that were rubbing circles on Janus’s shoulders.

Somewhere around a sleepy, soundless three thousand, Janus stirred back into himself. He inhaled deeper and pulled back from Virgil’s shoulder wiping away the leftover tear tracks with his pale and clammy hands.

“You said,” He started, with a measure of exhaustion that Virgil felt deep in his soul, “You said...back when you first saw me….Did my parents really declare me dead?”

Their Pride and Joy, they had called Janus once, twice, a billion times. If Virgil closed his eyes he could see them there: Janus’s mother who still looked to be in her late twenties despite nearing fifty now, with long blond hair that curled in perfect rings and so much glittering diamond jewelry that she was hard to look at in in the flash of paparazzi cameras, and Janus’s Dad, the Mayor, who’s dark brown hair and charismatic smile had been plastered across the city every election year. They had shown up to every event that Janus had been in, and had turned it into a showcase about how great and fantastic Janus was. Every award ceremony, every spelling bee, every sports game, Chess club, Robotics, Art shows--

Perfect, flawless Janus Ekans, they called him. Gonna grow up to be the finest President of the entire United States, whether he wanted to or not.

With a life like his, no one had ever really considered the idea that he might have run away. And two weeks without a ransom note had led everyone to assume that he had been murdered. According to the lead detective, kidnapped teenagers rarely made it past the first twenty four hours, no matter how much people loved him. 

Virgil’s expression must have given him away because Janus blinked hard again and furiously scrubbed away a new wave of tears.

“They…” Virgil swallowed hard, “They waited. A whole eight months. But there was no note, no ransom call, nothing. The detective wanted to close the case.”

Virgil didn’t tell him that he had been barred from the service, that Janus’s parents who had always hated the bad influence that was Virgil hadn’t stopped glaring at him, that the media had picked up on the cold exchanges and crafted their own story on what happened. Virgil did not tell him that everyone had eaten up that story, including Janus’s parents, and the rumors had spiraled into a noose strategically wrapped around Virgil’s neck.

Virgil didn’t tell him anything about the last four months he had spent on Earth, and definitely didn’t tell him that sometimes he woke up in a cold sweat wondering if the Weslor Fighting Rings were really worse than life back on Earth.

“Virgil I…” Janus’s hands reached forward suddenly, twisting around the edges of his hoodie and tightening. “Virgil, I’m dead, right? They killed me.”

And Virgil was ready for the sadness, ready for the harrowing realization that his parents had turned their backs on him, ready for Janus to realize that he had lost something important again.

Virgil was not ready for the blissed out relief on his face.

“I’m dead,” He whispered again in the silence Virgil left behind. “Virgil, I am dead.” He inhaled sharply. “I don’t ever have to go….” He tugged on Virgil’s jacket again, then let go quickly and smoothed out the fabric over his chest, as if he was afraid of offending Virgil somehow.

(As if Virgil wasn’t fully prepared to give him anything he asked for already.)

“Do you,” Janus asked, “Do you want to go back?”

His tone was entirely too level, too even, too emotionless for a guy who was overflowing with negative emotions. It pricked at a memory Virgil once had of a night far too long ago and buried in a Janus sized coffin: it was the voice he used to use in public when his parents were bragging and Janus was praying that they would stop putting him in the spotlight but knew deep down they would never knock it off.

It was the tone, the voice, the expression he used when he was afraid of the answer, but resigned to the fate of it.

“Do you?” Virgil asked back, because even if he knew the answer he needed to hear him say it. Out loud.

To make it real.

Because if Virgil had read him wrong, if Janus wasn’t drowning in relief, if this wasn’t hope of never needing to go back to Earth-- Virgil would-- He would--

He would ask Logan and Roman and Patton to take them back, if that’s what Janus wanted, if that was what made Janus happy. Virgil would leave all of the cosmos, all the distant planets, all the alien races, all the dying stars to follow him back to Earth. He would forget all about the great, huge, endless expanse of Space and stay with Janus on their tiny, little deathworlder planet in their tiny, little hateful city.

“My parents buried an empty coffin,” Janus said. “I think...that’s the only good thing they ever did for me.”

Virgil’s heart did a pitter-patter in a way he wasn’t sure it was supposed to do.

Janus scooted towards his side with a great amount of effort. Virgil watched him, cataloguing the sudden weakness in his arms, the tiredness of his expression, the fatigue that clung to the very essence of him. All that just to flop his head on Virgil’s shoulder. When he exhaled again, it sounded a lot like him letting go of a billion more unsaid words.

“I want to let Janus Ethan Ekans stay dead,” He admitted.

Virgil tilted his own head so his cheek pressed against Janus’s and breathed in deep. He smelled like the alien flower shampoo that Roman liked to use. Virgil hadn’t hated it, but he also hadn’t adored it all that much. Now though, he thought he might be okay if that was the only thing he smelled for the rest of his life.

“I’ll have to find a new name to go by, I think,” Janus continued, his tone dripping with exhaustion.

“Oh?” Virgil humored him, like he was prone to do.

“Yeah,” Janus smiled a little as his eyes fluttered closed. “I got...a few ideas already. Had them for a while.”

“Do I get a hint?” Virgil asked, settling back so that he could rest against the leg of the cot for support. He shifted a bit to get a good adjustment, and Janus very patiently whined while he did because he was still a brat.

“I was thinkin’,” Janus said, “maybe Janus Storm, instead.”

Virgil’s heart fluttered, like a butterfly’s wings on a billion butterflies that he could feel bumbling around in his chest all at once. For an absurd moment he flashed back to all those times in his Chemistry class where he scribbled “Virgil Ekans” in the margins of his notes enough times for him to be too embarrassed to bring them out after Janus had asked him for help studying. 

Janus Storm. Janus Storm. Janus Storm.

It made his chest feel light, but his stomach feel hollow. He hadn’t called himself Storm in two years, not since the Yurinks picked him off of Earth, not since the whole world had determined that Virgil Storm was a cold blooded killer, not since the detective had asked him to confirm for the record that he was indeed Virgil Storm, seventeen, male, son of--

“Nah,” Virgil said softly. “We should make our own. Something different from either of our families, you know?”

Janus breathed out part of a sleepy laugh, “Like Johnson?”

“Janus and Virgil Johnson?” Virgil tested.

They made twin faces of dislike.

“Smith? Hernadez?” Janus offered. “Miller?”

“Let's make a list,” Virgil suggested tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “I’ve always wanted... to be an Anderson.”

“Ugh, like Kyle Anderson?” Janus muttered. “He used to cheat off my Spanish homework.”

“So did I.”

“Yeah, but you’re cute.”

Virgil snorted. “What ‘bout….Davis?”

“Jones?”

“Janus Jones? You really want to be a JJ? ”

Janus made a noise of recognition, something disagreeable and agreeable at the same time. Virgil hummed in his own chest as he listened to it. The soft huffs of air from Janus’s lips lulled him into a calmness, of quietness, of peacefulness. By the time he realizes that Janus hadn’t responded, his own eyes felt too heavy to bother trying to open again.

Janus and Virgil. Virgil and Janus. 

“We’ll think of something,” Virgil murmured and let himself fall asleep as well.

[Next Installment: Happy Little Stars]

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #Janus Sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic deceit #Alien Au #17 pages of Virgil finding increasingly complicated similies to say how gay he is for Janus #humans are space orcs #mentions of poor parenting #survivors guilt #janus needs a hug #Virgil's happy to give it to him #Hurt/comfort #this is so gay guys #anxceit #i'm going to amass an army of anxceit lovers if its the last thing i do okay

[seokiloquy]

Lost In- What Word? Pt 1 - Akaashi Keiji

AU: Single Parent

Requested

Word Count: 4.5k+

Disclaimer: Fem! Reader, Time skip spoilers, Udai being a meta Furudate insert, just fluff

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

Akaashi wasn’t sure if Udai was naturally forgetful, or just held so much anticipation in his smaller form that he glossed over details and didn't realize it. Udai was an excellent author despite not having reached the major public yet. His first published work was short and eerie which most of the shonen reading population didn’t greedily rip off the shelves. Although, those that did read it gave him overwhelming support, maybe the rest of the world wasn’t ready for that kind of psychological horror just yet.

When Akaashi originally applied for a position at the publishing company he intended to work in the literature department, editing lengthy novels and picking out grammatical errors, not reading conversations via text bubbles and looking for continuity errors between images. He never did pick out the exact moment he went from editor to fact-checker and archivist. Akaashi also never knew how many different ways there were to translate a single word until he met you. And once he did, he realized that his eyes would follow you across the office as you ran around and spoke to other editors, helping them furnish their translations so that they flowed properly.

“Tenma, isn’t he meant to be out of the rotation for this panel?” Akaashi couldn’t help but grimace when faced with the utter despair that had pulled on Udai’s typically eased expression. The panel itself was masterfully drawn, taking up two pages and showing off Udai’s immense talent in drawing expressions and anatomy.

“I spent 8 hours on that, only to find out that it needs to be scrapped. What has my life come to?”

The yellow office lights made both of the men’s hair give off a green tinge and made their faces look sickly. Udai frowned as he pushed his chair back and let his chin sit on the table of the small meeting room. His hair curled around his fingers as they gently tugged on the ends of the wavy black stands, straightening them only to let them go and have them bounce back into place.

Akaashi flipped through the printed out pages of the chapter, letting the loose papers lay flat on the table. He pointed to the next pages. “These are fine though. They’re in the right rotation here, so not all is lost at least.”

Udai sighed, as he threw his weight back into the chair, making it spin with his momentum. “That’s all well and good, but I was really proud of that panel. It was going to be the attention grabber.”

Akaashi pursed his lips gently, flipping through the pages once more before tucking them into the pale yellow folder and closing it. Udai’s new story was in its beginning stages, only having a sample chapter that would be published in the following week’s magazine, that is if they got it done in time. 

“It needs to be perfect. I can’t have this not work and starve for the rest of my life.”

Akaashi opened his mouth slightly, taking in a deep breath, ready to spout out his words of encouragement for his colleague when there was a knock on the door followed by the soft creaking of the hinges as it opened.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to ask Udai about some of the uh… what’s the word? Dang, I’m supposed to know Japanese, it’s my job. The— I give up. Help?”

Udai chuckled and waved you over to take the seat opposite him, you shook your head and bowed slightly as your hand raised, saying you were alright, not needing the chair. Leaning down slightly you pointed at the ruff sketch copy in your hand where your current author’s handwriting seemed to over the edges of the text bubble slightly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but how in the hell am I supposed to translate ‘paisen’?”

The innocent question seemed to brighten Udai’s mood much more than Akaashi’s monotone words of support would have. The older man launched backwards, nearly flinging himself off the chair, in a fit of laughter. His hands gripped the shirt he wore above his stomach and chest as they tried to ease the laughing pains.

Akaashi chuckled at the sight before looking at your somewhat regretful expression, you were probably too used to your co-workers laughing at your in-fluency at Japanese. “You can probably substitute a familiar nickname or a joking reference of respect.”

You sighed and brushed your hand over the back of your neck, “I swear, Himari had the intent to torture me with this last chapter. Thank you, Akaashi.”

Finally calmed from his fit of giggles, Udai sat straight in his chair and sent you a gracious smile. “Well, at least when you join our team I won’t torture you as much.”

You gave Udai and Akaashi a teasing smirk as you reached for the door handle. “I’m not so sure about that,” you said. “Besides, you need to get the attention of the readers before I join your team. No point in translating a comic that doesn’t even get off the ground right?”

You sent them a wink and the door closed behind you with a quiet click.

“Was that a challenge?”

“I believe so,” Akaashi said, handing Udai a blank sheet of paper. “Looks like we have some work to do.”

The office was, as it was the day before, and the day before that, calm. Udai sat in a small isolated office on his own with a naturally coloured lamp hanging over his hunched figure. The rest of his team, including Akaashi and now you as well, sat outside his door in a row of cubicles that led up to a large window that took up the entirety of the wall. In the corner cubicle, pressed against the window and directly across from him, you sat, typing away on your computer as you translated the Japanese text into Wild Words fonted English. 

“Akaashi, is the end of chapter ready to translate?” Your head peeked over the frosted cubicle wall, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips and the corner of your eyes pinching together. Akaashi’s gaze fluttered around.

“Ah, Ya the edits are done so you can finish translating it now.”

The smile you wore only seemed to grow, making Akaashi want to turn away and stare at the same time. The sun’s light contrasted with the dull rectangular lights in the office, making your skin glow. Your fingers tightened on the top of the glass and your shoulders rose to your ears, you narrowly missed knocking over an owl keychain that hung on his side of the wall.

“Perfect,” you said. “I’ll get them done now.”

The day continued like this, everyone working and occasionally calling out to each other through their cubed walls, possibly getting a twirling pen in the forehead followed by a meek apology (coming from you). Every time you spoke to someone you would rise out of your seat to make eye contact with them, refusing to continue speaking otherwise, and even though he wasn’t the person you always spoke to, each time your head began to poke out of your squared corner Akaashi couldn’t help but turn his attention your way, watching as the sun's light danced around you. It didn’t come to a surprise when, like every instance before, Akaashi looked up when you shot up from your seat. Only this time there was a frantic look plastered unevenly on your face, one that the warm light didn’t compliment.

“Please tell me my clock is wrong and that it’s not 4 pm.”

Chiyo leaned back in her chair, setting down her Cintiq’s pen and flipped the watch on her wrist so that the face faced her. “Yup, it’s actually 4:15.”

Akaashi was surprised to hear a not so work friendly English curse leave your lips as you rushed to save files on your computer while simultaneously packing your purse. You continued to swear as you ran out of your cubicle and toward the elevators with a quick “goodbye” being thrown over your shoulder. The office was quiet.

“Does that happen often?” Ena asked as he pulled off his glasses.

The group of artists and their editor sat in stunned silence for a few moments, minds racing over where the young translator had scurried off to. In their collaborative confusion, the team slowly went back to their respective jobs.

Himari came around the corner of the office, coffee in hand, as she chatted with her editor, who was nursing his own mug. The writer looked up for her conversation to see Udai’s team and gave them a polite nod. They were going to meekly return to their work when Himari paused her steps and looked at the empty plush chair that sat rotated and untucked in your cubicle.

“Oh, did (Y/N) leave?” to Akaashi’s surprise, Himari was not.

“Does she do that often?” he asked, setting down his pen on the counter of his desk.

Himari nodded, smiling, “Oh ya, sometimes she gets lucky and her friend can handle it but a lot of the time she has to run out of here by 3.” Akaashi’s brow furrowed slightly as Himari took a sip of her coffee before continuing waving her hand by her head, “Don’t worry too much about it though, she always comes in early to get her work done.”

Before they could question further, Himari was off with her editor sending them a knowing smile.

When the end of the workday rolled around, only 45 minutes after your quick departure, Akaashi found his eyes trailing back to his phone that sat at the corner of his desk on top of a stack of papers. Keeping watch on his phone, he swung his bag over his shoulder and shut off his computer. The device remained silent as the team began to pile out of their seats, toward the elevators and in a fit of contemplation, he reached for the phone.

Your response was quick and vague; Family thing, happens often. I’ll tell you later. See you tomorrow!

After the sample comic was released, Udai was thrown when he received an immense amount of interest for his characters and story, and he was even more excited when he received word from the magazine’s publishers that they wanted him to continue with the path he was on. The months building up to this moment were filled with constant plot revisions, reference excursions, and interviews until they came to a conclusive framework of the story, and continued introductions as new members were added to their original duo to make the workload less hefty. 

Today though was the day that the story’s first chapter would finally be released to the public. 

Akaashi tracked into the office, heading to the lounge to grab a coffee before coming up to his cubicle against the window and setting his bag down, immediately heading to the lounge. 8:40 in the morning, 20 minutes before the expected time of arrival, Akaashi, back at his desk, was just about to take a sip of coffee when a small snore overlapped the sound of the air conditioners, creating a dishonest harmony. 

On the other side of the frosted glass wall of the cubicle was you, head resting on the black mouse pad that had a small plush cushion for your wrist. Akaashi quickly rounded the desks, coming to our side to gently rouse you from your slumber before your co-workers arrived. He was to wake you up gently with a hand on your shoulder, that was the plan. The plan changed when he noticed the small picture frame on your desk, surrounded by various action figures and Funko pops.

With one hand on your shoulder and the other holding the fame, he studied the photo with a kind gaze. He was so enthralled with the image that he forgot that below his other hand, was you.

“He’s cute ain’t he?” you asked, startling the editor back to his current reality as you stretched, arching your back like a cat. Akaashi’s attention was brought back to the current situation as you reached out for another frame in the opposite corner of your desk. “His name is Naoko. Here, this photo is newer.”

The young boy in the new photo looked like you a lot, more so than the previous one where he was just an infant that carried more resemblance to a potato than a human. Akaashi, without taking his eyes off the pictures, pulled the chair out from under Ena’s desk and sat next to you. He didn’t say anything, deciding just to admire the photos he held and letting you decide whether or not he should have the pleasure of hearing a story.

You sighed and yawned, leaning over the armrest of your chair so you would see them too. “He’s six, really quiet. I moved here when I found out. Hardly even out of university, and I was already pregnant with some strangers kid,” you laughed, making Akaashi stare at your features for a moment, wanting to point out which ones could be found on the boy.

“Is he the reason you moved to Japan?” Akaashi was a little taken aback by your willingness to talk, but in hindsight, you didn’t seem like the person to keep secrets, often rattling with your co-workers about your interests. Thinking back, maybe he should have expected something like this, Himari seemed to have known after working with you for several years, happily dancing around the topic of your personal life with your new coworkers when your sudden departure was questioned.

You shrugged, “not entirely, but he sure was a good excuse. I had plans to move to Japan for years before I even got into university. When I found out, I was sort of… uh. English…. Fuck, I need a job. So I applied to be an intern here, moved in with a friend I met online and prepared to have a baby.” Your arms flew about as you talked.

“You act as though it was easy,” Akaashi laughed, placing the frames back onto the table.

You let out a happy chuckle and spun your chair to face Akaashi head-on, eyes not leaving his, “I wouldn’t say it was easy, per se, but I’m happy with how things turned out.” you yawned a bit, “I should also apologize for running out of the office early sometimes, I have to pick Naoko up from school so —”

“You don’t have to apologize for that.” The gentle smile he wore was contagious.

It was 8:50 when the rest of the team came in. Immediately catching sight of Ena, Akaashi pulled away from your side, rolling the chair back to its respective location. He heard a breathy laugh escape you as he scurried around the desks to return to his designated spot across from you, cardigan flailing about.

The rest of your team piled into their seats sending the two of you waves and morning greetings. Ena nearly dropped his ‘don’t talk to me till I’ve had my coffee’ mug as he tripped over his rubber slides just before reaching his desk next to yours.

Sending your friends a smile you quickly slid back into your cubicle to re-adjust the frames on your desk with a yawn. Akaashi gave you a nod when you looked up to his stiff, still standing, form. You made his heart feel much weaker than he’d like to admit and without saying another word, he picked up the forgotten mug filled with brown liquid and handed it over the glass, into your hands.

Naoko was much more reserved than Akaashi expected, definitely a contrast to your more hyper personality. He spent most of the day sitting in the corner behind your cubicle where a table was set up next to a row of cabinets. What the boy was doing, Akaashi wasn’t entirely sure, but there was a small tickle at that back of his brain that made him want to find out.

When you had come in that morning, the group was surprised to see the small boy trailing behind you, holding onto your hand tightly with the both of his. “PD day,” you said. Udai spent the first few minutes of the day gushing over the boy’s cheeks instead of working, only to end up being backtracked and having to cram into his lunch break. Akaashi would be lying if he said he wasn’t thankful for that though.

“What do you have there?” he asked, taking a seat next to the boy and setting down his lunch next to the younger’s bento box.

Naoko curled in on himself, bringing the phone (that was most definitely yours) to his chest. The boy’s knees had pulled up to his shoulders as his feet pushed on the edge of the chair. Akaashi sent the young boy a kind smile and waited. From the corner of his eye, he could see your chair turn around as you took in the sight of your son and co-worker. He watched as you began making large swinging motions with your arms. Akaashi tried not to laugh.

Whatever had been playing on the phone hadn’t been paused in the short time given to do so, making the familiar sound ring quietly around the two of them. 

Akaashi looked back your way for a moment, only to see you tilt your head up in a supporting nudge and turn back around.

“Are you watching a volleyball game?” he asked, rousing a more positive reaction from the boy.

Naoko’s shoulders lowered and he slowly placed the phone down between them. As Akaashi had concluded, a volleyball game played on the small screen. He put forward another question.

“Do you like to play?”

The six-year-old shrugged but nodded before scooting his chair in closer and reaching for his food. Akaashi mirrored him, slipping off his collared cardigan and pulling his lunch closer, still watching the game.

“I used to play volleyball.” This caught the boy’s attention, who turned his head to look at Akaashi, brows raised and lips pursed. “I was a setter.”

Naoko swallowed his food and for the first time, Akaashi got to hear him speak.

“I like playing setter too.”

His voice was rather meek and had a sort of authority to it, but the biggest thing he noticed made him stifle a laugh.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he called gently, making you spin your chair around in question. “Why is Naoko better at Japanese then you?”

“Hey! That’s mean!”

Naoko began to wiggle in his seat, desperately trying not to laugh at his mother’s, your, irritation. You shot a look at your son and gasped.

“Don’t you start laughing at me. I speak English better than you do.”

“You don’t need to speak English in Japan, mom.”

Kaashi continued to choke on his laugher as you pushed the palm of your hand into your forehead. “I’m being teased by my own son,” you cried quietly, turning your chair back around to face the unedited pages.

Naoko giggled and looked back Akaashi’s way. “Can you teach me?”

Akaashi didn’t see you still in your chair, listening.

“Of course I can.”

“Udai, seriously? You promised that you weren’t going to use weird industry term slang stuff on me.”

With a wide-eyed look and hair messily tied back, the man in question rotated his chair around childishly. “I never promised. I just said I'd go easier on you.” It was infuriating really. 

With a pitiful whine, you shook the rough script in your hand making an angry fluttering sound. “You’re so mean Tenma. You know that I have trouble with slang.”

Udai only laughed and waved you off, “It’s a good way to learn is it not?”

You rolled your eyes but relented, giving a wave and closing the door. Once at your seat Akaashi poked his head out, eyes visible over the top of his square-framed glasses.

“He did it again?”

“Ya,” you huffed. “I can’t blame him though. It’s just frustrating that I can’t remember what a lot of the words mean. I should buy a dictionary.” Akaashi watched as you turned your monitor on. “Oh, um, Naoko was asking about you the other day.”

“Really?”

Your hands came together behind your neck, pulling your head down bashfully. “Ya, he’s been wanting to show you how he’s doing and maybe get the chance to learn a bit from you.”

Akaashi gave you a kind smile, so small that it didn’t even crease his cheeks, and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Your cheeks warmed as you beamed up at him before turning your head down towards your computer screen. Akaashi took a second to appreciate how the cool light from the overcast sky made you look. It was silent in the office for a moment. Just a moment.

“Udai! Another one?!”

In theory, so long as you have space above your head, you can play volleyball anywhere. Your apartment wasn’t ‘anywhere’.

The three-bedroom living space was built as housing and not an Olympic arena, and after breaking one too many of your glasses playing around, it was made clear to you, Naoko, and your sport junky roommate, that volleyball shouldn’t be allowed in the house.

“You guys can go play volleyball with Akaashi at the park, no?” Yukie asked, grabbing an onigiri of the large plate on your kitchen counter and stuffing it in her face. You made a large dinner that day, only to have your friend eat most of it, instead of leaving leftovers for Naoko’s lunch. Not that he complained about it, you sure did though.

Taking Yukie’s words to heart, when the weekend rolled around and Naoko was becoming more anxious, you invited Akaashi to your neighbourhood park to play volleyball.

“Open your elbows a bit more, make a triangle with your hand, and when the ball comes just cushion it with your fingertips before sending it out, okay?”

Naoko nodded, staring at his hands that were being moved around by the older player. Akaashi’s form was kneeled by the boy’s side, his head nearly resting on the younger's shoulder as he tried to make sure he was in the right position.

“Alright,” he said, grabbing the smaller than average volleyball off of the grass. “I’m gonna toss this to you, do you think you can get it to hit my hand right up here?”

Naoko nodded again, eagerly waiting for the blue and yellow ball to come flying his way. You watched silently from the park bench as Naoko tried (and often failed) to get the ball to touch Akaashi’s hand accurately. 

“Almost there, you got this Naoko!” Akaashi encouraged.

Earnestly waiting to see the next move, you sat forward in your seat, watching as that ball made a tall arch towards Naoko’s waiting palms. As the ball made contact with his fingertips, he bent his elbows and wrists before shooting them out into a straight line, sending into the palm of Akaashi’s hand before dropping back onto the grassy field.

Your son, as most six-year-olds do when accomplishing something, shrieked. He shrieked very loudly before sprinting directly into Akaashi’s stomach to give him a (breath-stealing) hug. Akaashi coughed as he tried to get air back into his depleted lungs. From the side you giggled, watching as Naoko’s smile grew, head buried into Akaashi’s stomach.

It became standard, going out to the park during your off days. And this day, like the weekends that have come before, the routine of going to the park, ball in hand, continued. But after spending an hour or so watching the familiar movement of the yellow and blue ball fly through the air, Naoko interrupted the serene setting with a loud request.

“Mama! Mom! Can we go get onigiri?”

Looking up from resting your neck on the back of the bench to turn your gaze onto the energetic boy that was hopping around on the grass. “I’m okay with that, but you should probably ask Akaashi along. We don't want to leave him at the park do we?” you teased, picking up your bag and walking toward the two.

Naoko spun again to look at Akaashi, whose hands were now tucked into his jeans pockets. “Please!” he wailed. “Come with us! Please, please, please, please, please!”

Akaashi let out a hearty laugh. “Calm down, I’ll join you.” without saying another word, Akaashi offered his hand out, letting Naoko clutch it eagerly.

“Udai are you sure it’s okay to bring Naoko along? This is meant to be a work trip and I’d hate for him to dis… dic… get in the way,” you gave up at the end, sighing over your tripping words.

Udai gave Naoko, who had been clinging to Akaashi’s arm since all of you had met outside the city gymnasium, a pat on the head. “It’s alright. Besides, he’ll probably be a great resource.” 

You nodded and watched as Naoko rattled to Akaashi about his school team and new things they had been practicing. You pouted. Upon their arrival, Ena, Chiyo and the others immediately began teasing you for effectively losing your son’s favour, which didn’t make your whining any less audible. On top of that, the group of artists found your sullen look to be a perfect reference, taking their cameras out.

“Keiji,” you cried, following behind the rest of the group as they waltzed through the gym entrance along with the crowd. “You’ve stolen my son.”

Akaashi paused for a moment, taking in a calm breath before looking over his shoulder. “He’s your son, I can’t steal that from you.”

Naoko threw a large smile over his shoulder, making your dragging steps falter.

When did it change? The expression on his face. When did it become so happy? Did he not smile before?

You picked up your pace, brows furrowed as you watched your son chatter happily.

When did he start speaking so much? Since when did he have so much to say? Was it something new in his diet? Or maybe the new friends on his volleyball team?

You found your gaze shifting to the hand that held his. Without thinking about it too hard, you quickened your steps to come up to Naoko’s other side. Your heart pounded as you held your closest hand out for him to grab hold of. When he finally did, immediately looking forward to dragging the two adults with him, the smile you gave Akaashi was the largest he’s ever seen coming from you. 

You looked back at all of your interconnecting hands fondly.

When did he become another person’s son?

I tried going a bit of a different direction with this one in comparison to most Single Parent aus. I’ll admit it could have more meat to it, but oh well, things to improve on. 

Question:

Do you prefer weekly one-shots that are shorter in length (like we’re doing) or longer ones with bigger plots and inconsistent updates (Sort of like “Catch Me If You Can” and “Ready Aim FIre” but longer)? 

- Bacon

Posted: 31/07/2020

#haikyuu x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #Haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #anime x reader #anime #manga x reader #manga

[yeojaa]

didn’t know me.

pairing.  jhs x reader.  rating.  general!  we are family friendly.  tags.  this is just... cute.  there’s a bit of swearing, teasing, mentions of beer, etc. but nothing bad.  wc.  2k.  beta reader.  my beloved @hobi-gif​ and my wofe @periminkle​!  💖

You’ve always been one to take the things you want, pursuing them with a ferocity your mother calls intense.  You have no qualms about decorum or bashfulness.  To you, if you’re not the first - you’re the last. 

You’d done it all your life.  First, in kindergarten, when you’d taken the orange blocks because they were your favourite colour.  Then, in high school when you’d tried out for three varsity teams and made it onto all of them.  More recently, at work, where you’d demanded (read:  gently requested) a raise after you’d consistently been covering for your less-than-reliable manager. 

If you wanted something, you went for it.  There was seldom anything that could stop you - including your soft-spoken best friend. 

“I’m gonna do it.” 

It being asking the cute guy waiting in line for his number.  It being embarrassing your poor best friend who’s got her face hidden behind your shoulder, soft blonde bangs brushing your cheek as she shakes her head in a poor attempt to deter you. 

“Don’t make it weird,”  she whispers into the collar of your coat, denim rough against your neck. 

“You’re the one making it weird!”  The hiss is quiet, gentle.  More coaxing than reprimand or displeasure.  This is a usual occurrence for the two of you. 

Whereas you were relentless, unrepentant - rays of sunlight on the hottest day of summer - she was the softest breeze, barely a ruffle of leaves.  You complemented and completed each other and had for the better part of your lives.  Exactly why you’d opted to take this trip with her and only her;  she was the one person who didn’t drive you absolutely insane after a certain number of days together.  She filled all the empty spaces of your puzzle, rather than smothered you with her own shape. 

Still, you sometimes had disagreements.  Now was one of those times. 

“What if he doesn’t speak English?”  

She’s being far too realistic, of course, in her patented Ivy way.  You have to admit - she has a point.  The likelihood of this random stranger even understanding you is slim but you figure it doesn’t hurt to ask.  When in Rome Okinawa, right? 

“Then I’ll use Google translate,”  you retort around a mouthful of laughter, the sound buzzing around your teeth.  You’d think they’d stung her by how Ivy recoils, grimacing at you in the same instance you advance a step.  “Wish me luck!”

She doesn’t.  You don’t care.  

A hand reaches out, two fingers poised. 

And then he - the cute fellow customer with jet black hair and expensive sneakers on - faces you, but not because you’ve spoken.  He turns because his companion has caught his attention, jerking his platinum blond head toward you.  At least, you think it’s blond.  You really can’t tell with how his bucket hat is pulled so low over his ears, the bottom half of his face obscured by a plain black mask. 

The words die on your tongue, suddenly stolen by the sheer beauty of cute guy’s face.  He’s disarmingly handsome, with high cheekbones and a perfectly upturned nose.  His mouth splits - heart-shaped around bright white teeth - and you can’t help the little tumble your heart takes when he smiles.  It brushes itself off before falling all over again, nearly launching itself out of your chest and at his feet. 

“Hi?”  There’s something lyrical about his voice, like summertime and riding in the car with the windows down.  It’s also accented - peculiar in a way that’s strangely familiar.  You can’t quite place it. 

“Hi!”  You all but chirp, probably with the dumbest look on your face.  You hope your smile offsets it.  “Could I have your number?” 

Sunshine - because that’s his nickname for now and it feels terribly fitting - blinks at you, head tilting in a way you can only describe as adorable. 

“My number?”  It’s an echo, in less of a what the fuck way and more of a did-I-hear-you-right way. 

You nod once, twice, a hopeful laugh rolling off your tongue.  It slots into the spaces between you and settles, strangely nervous.  You’re not used to the anxiety that’s thrumming through your veins and causing a ruckus in your ears. 

There’s just something about him. 

“Yeah, your number?”  As if to illustrate your point better, you raise your phone and wave it about, tapping against the back of your fluorescent pink case.  “To text you?”

Realisation dawns, passing in pretty rays over his face.  “Oh!”  For a moment, he seems ready to give it, every inch of his expression wide open. 

Then, all at once, it falls - blinds dropping across a window.  He seems deep in thought, his gaze jumping to the blond that’s now made himself comfortable at a table a few feet away, back hunched and attention focused solely on the screen of his Samsung.  Your stare follows, traipsing the narrow ridge of the other’s shoulders before swivelling back to the ball of light before you.  

God, you can’t get over how good looking he is.  It’s almost hard to look at him, yet somehow harder to look away. 

“You want… my number?”  

“If that’s okay,”  you murmur, with your most disarming smile.  You know it’s a solid effort - you’ve won parents and bosses over with it.  Three years of braces had done you good.

He’s seemingly stuck, torn between giving into the strange girl in front of him and something else you have no idea about.  You can practically feel Ivy burning a hole into the back of your skull with each moment that passes.  She’s definitely going to hold this against you for at least an hour. 

“I can have yours?”  A sleek iPhone - no case, to your horror - is fished out of his pocket and offered to you.  You can’t help but admire his hands, the way his knuckles wrap around the slim device.  “I’ll take your, um, number?” 

It’s not what you’d expected.  Truthfully, a part of you wonders whether this means he’ll take it and never use it.  You hope not.  

“Sure,” you agree readily, nodding with a delight that feels a little much for a chance meeting in a random mochi donut shop.  You try not to dwell on it as you enter your contact details, passing the phone back over with two hands. “Don’t forget to use it!”  It’s meant to be flirtatious, friendly without being too forward.  You’re unsure if it’s lost on him.  You think it might be by how he beams at you, offering nothing in return. 

“Gaja.”  

The interruption breaks the stillness between you, spoken so quietly you almost miss it.  It comes low and swift from the blond that’s joined Sunshine’s side, stealing his attention from you.  You try to hide your disappointment, though it’s quickly replaced by wide-eyed wonder. 

You don’t mean to stare - you probably look like a fish out of water - but realisation brings with it unflattering expressions.  It’s a simple fact of life.  

“Kamsahamnida.”  Your Korean is rusty - clearly without practice and uncomfortable on your tongue. For not the first time, you wish you’d been more receptive to your parents’ insistence that you learn.  

Surprise flips across Sunshine’s face, thrusting his eyebrows to disappear behind his fringe.  Then he grins, so big and unreserved that it really is blinding - like staring directly into the sky on a day without clouds.  He looks on the edge of speaking - as if all the words are balanced right behind his teeth, ready to spill out with the same abandon as his joy - before Blondie repeats himself, this time with more urgency.

You’re holding them up.  Oh god. 

With a swiftness usually reserved for the volleyball court, you sidestep, nearly knocking a lurking best friend over in your haste.  Your head is bowed - a decidedly strange gesture for you - and you glance up through a curtain of swept bangs and thick lashes.  “Mianhaeyo.”  You want to say more but you’re fumbling, trying to find the words you’ve never taken the time to properly study.  “I… um...”  

There’s a hand in yours, squeezing in reassurance. Or maybe frustration.  It isn’t always easy to tell with Ivy.

“It was nice to meet you” is what you settle on. 

“You too,”  Sunshine returns, far too kindly, with that same brilliant smile that has your jaw aching with the intensity of your own.  He’s all but ushered out the door, though he turns at the last minute to wave - a sweet thing that makes you laugh.  “I will call!”

Waiting isn’t something you do well.  As evidenced by your go-getter attitude, your patience tends to run thin.  You want things and you want them now - but it seems that isn’t in your cards.  Shit hand, you think.

So you sit and you wait and well, you’re not really sitting and waiting.  You’re still living your life and enjoying your vacation.  You’ve been to the beach - there’s a neat underground tower Ivy had dragged you to that had you gaping at the fish swimming by at eye level - and you’ve had probably too much taco rice than is strictly speaking necessary.

But you haven’t been able to get him out of your head and it’s driving you more than a little crazy on the third day that you haven’t heard from him.

“Are you listening to me?”  It’s Ivy, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with two intricately woven bracelets held aloft.  They’re both pretty and hardly discernible in their differences.  One’s blue and the other is… a slightly darker shade of blue?

“Huh?”  Your thoughts are a million miles away, focused solely on the memory of a certain Sunshine boy.  

“Which one!”  She’s exasperated, flailing her wrists just enough that one trinket whacks you right between the eyes.  Okay, so you deserved that.

You’re rubbing at the red mark, turning away in the same instant you speak.  “That one.”  

“That one?” 

“The one on the right!”

She grumbles something that sounds awfully like I hate you but you’re too busy checking your phone to really call her on it.  No new messages, save for the three group chats you’re in that absolutely refuse to shut up.  You don’t count those.

“A watched pot never boils,”  she hums from somewhere behind you, before lapsing into stilted Japanese with the kindly old woman behind the counter. 

You know she’s right but that doesn’t change a thing.  You check your phone twelve more times between exiting the small jewellery shop and stepping into the karaoke bar.  It’s not really that often, you tell yourself.  Most millennials sit on their phones for hours!  You’re a step above, truly.

Until Airi’s husband is grilling you, poking fun at the fact that you can’t seem to tear yourself away from the device in your hands.

“Don’t forget you’re out,”  he teases around the rim of his beer, arm slung comfortably across his wife’s shoulders.  “Live in the moment, y’know?”  

If you weren’t so close - if they weren’t hosting you at their apartment for this leg of your trip - you’d probably ignore him.  As it stands, he’s like an annoying older brother and receives a swift kick to his shin.  You grin just as he grimaces, nearly spilling his glass of Sapporo all over his front.

“Hey— you brat!”

“Takes one to know one,”  you retort, tongue out and mischief wrapped into every syllable.  “Don’t know how you’re married.  Didn’t think kids were allowed to.”  

Across from you, Airi stifles a snicker and the rest of your group breaks into laughter.  You’re in the middle of throwing middle fingers at Sunny when a hand clasps your forearm with an aggression you can’t ignore. 

Ivy’s staring at you with eyes the size of saucers, mouth curled into a perfectly shaped ‘O’.  A part of you wants to shove a limp fry into it - until you follow the line of her arm, the length of her finger. 

Because on the screen - serenading your ragtag group of friends in the terrible voice of Airi’s little brother - is cute-guy-from-donuts.  Sunshine. 

What the hell?

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​​​

#thebtswritersclub #ficswithluv #heartsforbts #magicshopnet #networkbangtan #cypherwritersnet #bts #bts au #bts fic #bts drabble #bts jhope #bts hoseok #jhope #jung hoseok #jhope au #jhope imagine #jhope fic #jhope drabble #hoseok au #hoseok fic #hoseok drabble #jhope x you #jhope x reader #jhope x oc #hoseok x oc #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #work.zip #drabble.zip #jhope.doc

[petri808]

TW: Non con/Dubious con/NSFW sex act w/supernatural creature. Vampire, chase/hunt prey. Primary Character Dabi (Todoroki)

For @bnhamonsterball​ 2020 Tumblr/Twitter main event piece 1. A Treat for hibakyochan on Twitter. Beta’d by Imitationicarus. 2k words 

Give or take the last three hundred years they’d been alive, this had to be one of the silliest holidays for an immortal to witness. Locally, one would call their kind Kyonshī, but ever since the Halloween concept came to Japan, there was a new term attributed to the undead. Vampires.

Not that the Todoroki clan cared about labels, but this holiday allowed them to come out of the shadows for one day of the year without fear of being discovered. Shibuya train station was the hotbed of Tokyo nightlife for Halloween. There were so many people out and about. The pickings were like a kid in a candy store--all these human’s dressed in an array of costumes. It was a part of their culture, so it made sense this holiday pulled the attention of the Japanese people.

“It’s stupid,” Todoroki Dabi hisses. “Why should we dress like these weirdos?!”

“Because it’s easier to blend in.” His younger brother, Shouto, ignores the tirade and fusses with his cape. “This is how the humans think vampires dress.”

Dabi rolls his eyes. “Capes and stupid looking suits? What’s with your slicked back hair?”

“I enjoy dressing up fancy, and I care if you go out looking like a corpse. So, shut up and get dressed so we can find some food tonight!”

The brothers make their way into a nearby nightclub and slip into one of the shadowed booths. It was easy to move unnoticed through the semi-darkened lounge. Glowing Halloween decor was scattered along the walls. Things like skeletons to pumpkins, ghosts and bats; basically, all the cliche holiday images you could think of. The loud music and disco lighting kept the mindless dancers focused off of the other patrons and boozed up barflies lined the bar counter in giggling packs. So, the only ones paying attention to newcomers were trolling for some action.    

It doesn’t take long for interested parties to drop by. Tall and handsome, Shouto found it easy to attract anyone he desired--men and women--but he was mostly interested in the blood scent they gave off. Dabi, with his crazed features, tended to attract humans that were into seedier whims. Well, they’d better, because they were his favorite meal.

Drinks were ordered to keep up appearances, and Shouto already had an attractive brunette draped across his lap. A blond woman in a zombie-esque costume sidles up to Dabi.

“Are you Frankenstein?” the blond questions as she runs her fingers along the textured staples and warped skin covering the exposed areas of Dabi’s body. “Wow! These seem so real!”

“Woman, I’m not that fucked up monster from the movies. This shit is real.”

“Pfft. This fool got himself chopped up and tossed in a fire, so I had to put him back together.” Shouto smirks at his brother. “He’s lucky they missed his heart.”

“Tch,” Dabi grunts and looks away.

“Is that why you’re burned too?” The female on Shouto’s lap asks as she touches the area around his left eye. “You poor baby.”

“Yes.” He teases her lips back to his own, dragging his canines across the flesh before pulling away. “Which is why I need the assistance of a beautiful woman like you.”

“Mmm…” The woman moans at the contact. “Anything you need, cutie.”

“Gross,” Dabi huffs. “You play with your food too much.”

“And you should learn,” Shouto continues to ghost his fingers over the woman’s cheek and neck, pulling more purrs and enchanting her with his stare, “to have a little fun. Makes it so much sweeter.”

“This is why I hate hunting with you.” Dabi stands and pulls the second female to her feet. “Let’s go have some fun blondie.”

The woman giggles and happily allows the man to drag her away. “I didn’t catch your name, mister.”

“Just call me Touya.”

“Touya,” she purrs. “Where are we going for this fun?”

“You’ll see.”

Humans were such gullible creatures. In the old days, they were much more suspicious and difficult to catch, but now, it was child’s play.

Take for instance the ridiculous story about being chopped up. The girls probably thought the siblings were joking. No one believed in supernatural creatures. Vampires, ghosts, and demons were just a bunch of nonsense to scare little kids. Sometimes, Dabi misses the sport of the old days because easy gets boring, and that’s no fun for an immortal.

So, as soon as they reach an alleyway devoid of Halloween revelers, Dabi pushes the woman against a wall. While one hand grips the base of her throat, the fingers of the other toy with her, tracing long fingernails over the contours of her cheek.

“Such a naïve little thing.” He leans in close, licking and teasing the shell of her ear as he talks. “You know it’s not smart to let a strange man take you into a dark alley.”

The pace of her heartbeat steadily rises, and the delicious scent of arousal mixed with fear pours from her flesh.

His knee nudges her legs apart, then seats itself between them, pressing his thigh forward until it rubs against her groin. A whine squeaks out from the woman and catches in her throat when his hand constricts tighter around it.

“Do you like it rough? Cause I do. Now be a good little girl and close your eyes for me. That’s it,” he whispers as he watches her eyes roll back from the lack of air. “Time to take a short nap.”

Dabi picks the woman up, throws her over his shoulder like a sack of rice, and heads for the forests surrounding Mt. Tanzawa. A human traveling this distance would take hours, but for a vampire, it only took just minutes with their preternatural speed. Sort of like jumping through space and time, they moved faster than the naked eye could process. To others watching, they were simply a blur.

“Wake up!” He slaps the woman’s face, hard.

The sting instantly revives her. “W-What’s g-going on?!” The trees blocked out the bulk of the moonlight, making it pitch black. “Where are we?”

“Far outside of Kanagawa.” Dabi grins and leans into one of the scant beams of moonlight. The woman flinches when he flashes the elongated fangs that were not there earlier. “I’ll give you one minute to run before I turn you into my prey.”

“A-are you gonna k-kill me?!”

“Mmm.” He rubs his chin. “I haven’t decided yet. So, get moving!”

The darkness swallows her screams as she takes off running as fast as her legs could carry her. But he knows it’s hard to see where she’s going with brush and fallen tree limbs, rocks and other debris tearing through her clothing. She trips and scrambles to her feet again, tears pouring down her face. Behind her, Dabi’s manic laughter echoes and bounces off the trees making it difficult to pinpoint his location.

“Someone help me!”

“There’s no one for miles,” Dabi replies harshly.

“What do you want from me?!” she cries out.

But her pleas go unanswered this time. He could hear the sounds of brush crunching under her feet as she barrels through the forest. They mask his own movements well, and the further she runs, Dabi could imagine the pain being exacted through lashes all over her skin. ‘Ughhh!’ Dabi groans and licks his lips. The woman smells absolutely delicious! Her blood and sweat trail left in her wake and the fear coursing through her veins! Nope little brother, this is so much sweeter! He loves the pounding of her heartbeat echoing in his eardrums like a primal rhythm driving him wild! It’s been so long since he’d had a meal like this one, and it was time to enjoy it.

He pounces on her from behind and clamps down so quickly, she has no chance to react. The woman’s screams tear through the night along with the puncture of his fangs into the supple white flesh of her neck. She claws in vain wherever she can reach, but the larger Dabi has no problems controlling her writhing body.

“That’s it, scream for me baby,” he mumbles into her skin.

Fuck, she tastes as good as he’d hoped! He sucks gingerly at the coppery blood. There’s no rush to this meal. And besides, the slower he drinks, the longer the heart holds out.

“Please,” the woman whimpers, “I’ll do anything. Just don’t kill me.”

Dabi releases his fangs and flips the blond over.

“Is that so?” Dabi keeps one hand on her throat, and he runs the other between her thighs and up her skirt. She instinctively clenches her legs. “Tch, thought so.”

“No, wait! I’m sorry!” she sobs and relaxes her legs again. “Take it. Please j-just don’t ki-kill me.”

“If you insist.” He grins and releases her neck. “Get the fuck on your hands and knees.”

The blonds shaky body complies, and she assumes the position. Dabi flips her skirt up and tears the fabric of her panties, then releases his own cock. He yanks her hair and wraps his hand around her throat to hold her still.

“You’re being such a good girl.” His icy breath fans over her skin, causing her to shiver. “And if you satisfy my dick, I’ll let you live.”

His cold hard cock buries itself in the woman’s tight and hot pussy.

“Fuck— yeah,” he moans, pounding relentlessly into the woman.

Her pussy was so perfectly tight, it practically sucked his dick in. She couldn’t control her body’s reaction to his conquest as sticky liquid trails down her thigh. Her quieted sobbing falls on deaf ears with Dabi too engrossed in plundering his prey.

“You should feel special, blondie.” He leans in close and licks her cheek. “Not many can say they’ve been fucked by a vampire and lived.” Dabi laughs. “Course no one’s gonna believe you, either!”

The swell of his impending orgasm triggers his icy blue eyes to turn blood red. Dabi pulls her up until they’re both just on their knees and bites down on her neck once more. He grabs her hips hard, and his sharp nails dig into the flesh.

Her moans echo into the still night air as a different set of heat floods her entire body. It was a chemical from his bite that brought on the wave of euphoria. It wasn’t something he always used to placate his prey, but it was harder to control during sex and simply came out.

She weaves one hand behind his head, and another around his ass and thigh seemingly begging for more contact.

“Tou—ya...” she purrs, his name dribbling over and over from her lips as he rides out his orgasm.

“Damn bitch,” Dabi sneers after unhinging his fangs from her throat. “Don’t get comfortable unless you wanna become my sex slave.” He knew it was just the spell making her so compliant, but frankly, the idea was appealing to him. Been a century since his last one. With all the blood loss, the woman is slowly losing consciousness. Sent into a dream world created by the chemicals of lust and the toxins from his bite. Perhaps he’d unlocked a side of her that she’d never known existed?

“I-I want more,” she whispers.

Dabi pulls out roughly and turns her around. “What did you say, slut? Getting turned on are ya?”

“I-I don’t know,” she cries, tears falling down her cheeks and skin tingling from the icy grip of his fingers. “I l-like it…”

“Hmm, maybe I could have a little more fun with you after all. What’s your name, bitch?”

“T-Toga.”

Dabi’s eyes flash red with the most sinister of smiles, then pricks his own finger on one of his fangs. He smears a drop of his blood on Toga’s lips before forcing her to suck more of it in. And as her eyes slowly turn red, he smirks.

#bnhamonsterball #trigger warnings #bnha #dabi todoroki #dabi #Bnha dabi #vampire #halloween event #tw: noncon #tw: violence #tw: sex #tw: prey

[atiny-piratequeen]

Character Analysis: Song Mingi, the ‘Wind Whisperer’

Languages: English, Japanese (Post Transformation), Korean (Modern Day), French (Modern Day), Spanish, Sign Language (ESL, JSL, KSL, LSL, LSE-Modern Day)

Crew Position: Boatswain

Powers: Aerokinesis/Air (Inherited from Japanese God, Fujin)

Compass Position + Arrowpoint Stone: South Eastern, located under his collarbone, Crystal Opal

Eye Color: Brown (Natural)/ Violet (Demonic Form)

Hair Color:  Brunette (Natural)/ Crimson (Demonic Form)

Piercings: Prince Albert (Modern Day)

Likes: Praise, Successful Snatches, Orange Juice, Crafting Presents for Friends and Family, Reading Stories With the Crew

Dislikes: Bella Rose, Manipulative People, Mean-Spirited People, Being Left Alone

*The above image of Demonic Mingi is a commissioned piece from @seonghwea and is not to be taken out of this moodboard. Reposting isn’t cute, if I find this piece anywhere besides on Atlas’ blog and here in this moodboard, we WILL file a dmca. Don’t be an asshole :)

Mingi. 

An unfortunate child, with a heart of gold. Raised amongst a poor band of thieves, but still finding a family worth more than even the finest diamonds. A child raised around the honey and warmth of a found family. 

Until the day poison began to seep into his life in the form of a little girl with a wicked smile. 

Not even the smiles of his precious baby sister can stave off the looming force of negativity known as Bella Rose.

Boatswain Song Mingi.

The sails fly high above the heads of the members of the formidable Utopia. Reliable, sturdy, innocent, and strong. Despite his inexperience, the crew looks towards him for guidance on affairs regarding cargo and other crew members. 

A loyal and hard worker, none of the crew members are opposed to following behind their boatswain. They sing a hearty shanty together, passing barrels to and fro under his leadership. 

Something about orange juice, but no one seems to mind too much, as long as their boatswain keeps that smile on his face. 

-Mythology-

Feared and respected are the brothers of the storm. The lightning, Raijin, and the wind, Fujin. 

Fujin, an unruly force of nature, is often depicted with messy, wind swept curls and an intimidating snarl. Upon his back is a bag of winds, which is the source of his power. He rides upon a nimbus cloud and can devastate the lands below just as easily as he can aid humanity. 

For all of the lost life that comes from typhoons, at times, the wind is on the side of Fujin’s people. Such a case would be an instance in the 1200s, when the invading Mongol fleet was devastated by a horrible wind storm. Sometimes, the helpful storm is attributed to Fujin’s divine intervention. 

From a gentle summer breeze to a volatile tornado, Fujin is the god behind it all. 

-Power Applications/Demon Transformation-

Upon fully using his powers, Mingi’s hair bleeds into a deep crimson color. His eyes shift into a dark violet tone and a shining, glittering cloud-like mark appears on his cheek. The mark glitters in the light, and the more Mingi uses his powers, the more you can see the hues of color within the gem swirl around within the mark. 

Despite being a Boatswain, not a Navigator or Sailing Master, Mingi still uses his powers for the crew’s ocean exploration. Alongside Hongjoong pushing Utopia with strong waves, Mingi puts the wind in her sails, speeding up their journey and cutting their trips down to over half the time it would take for them to sail places. 

The force of Mingi’s wind can change, from a light breeze to vicious typhoon or tornado force winds. Though he is one of the more combative of the men when it comes to using his powers, Mingi doesn’t have a particularly organized style of fighting. 

What he lacks combative style, he makes up for it in sheer force and power. Mingi plays strong offensive support in group fights and will use his winds to either push or pull enemies closer to the others. Out of the eight of them, sans Hongjoong, Mingi has the farthest reach with his powers. 

He is also one of the mobile members, using the force of his winds to fly through the air and close the distance on long-range enemies. His powers work better when there is some space between them, as it does take a bit for him to muster up the winds for them to be useful in attacks. If he’s interrupted when gathering the winds-specifically before a wind storm-he’ll have to start all over again, but if he manages to stop one, him summoning more or being attacked won’t detract away from the first initial storm. 

Ideally, Mingi fights better with an even, level field to fight on, as too many obstacles on a battlefield will break some of the force of the winds and lessen the damage he can cause. Mingi may not be a trained fighter like Seonghwa, Jongho, or Yunho, but he knows how to use his size to his advantage, and can hold his own fairly well in a hand to hand fight.

-Character Song Breakdown-

All of the main boys have a song assigned to them in the AtT playlist to go alongside their origin chapters. Mingi’s character song is Never Be Like You by Crywolf. He also has another song that strongly relates to him so I’ll share some lyrics from the other song as well, Masochist by Matt Van.

Both songs feal with Mingi’s near suffocating anxiety and his loss of self-worth as a result of Bella Rose’s constant torment. 

‘What I would do to take away this fear of being loved

Allegiance to the pain

Now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you

I swear she'll never be like you

I would give anything to change this fickle-minded heart

That loves fake shiny things

Now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you

I swear she'll never be like you’

Originally this song is intended to be for a man pleading for forgiveness from an ex-lover, but I decided to use the hurt from the lyrics to change the meaning to apply to Mingi. His fear of being loved, stemming from Bella’s verbal and emotional abuse, is something we follow throughout his time with the pirates aboard the utopia. 

Mingi was raised to be a pickpocket, and that ties in for his love for ‘fake shiny things’. While with the crew and battling with himself, Mingi has to convince himself to accept the good feelings he receives from the others around him and how they’ll never be like Bella Rose. She, though deceased at the time of him joining the crew, will never be like them, either.

‘Stop looking at me with those eyes

Like I could disappear and you wouldn't care why

Now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you’

Throughout their time together, Bella Rose makes it abundantly clear she only ‘cares’ for Mingi during the times she needs or wants his aid for something. Mingi also has issues making and keeping eye contact from time to time, as a result of his trauma. 

‘I'm only human. Can't you see?

I made, I made a mistake

Please just look me in my face

Tell me everything's okay

I'm only human. Can't you see?’

To wrap this up, I’ll share some lines from Masochist that share the same sentiment and message as the song we’ve just gone over.

‘As long as I'm not myself

I think I'll be safe, yeah

What am I looking for

In this state between love and war

Am I chasing a chemical

That just leaves me wanting more

And is there a difference

Between truth and happiness

If ignorance is bliss

To the emotional masochist’

‘We can go pretty far

If you wanted

'Cause I know it's not your thing

To stay in one place, yeah

I can be what you want

I can be anything

As long as I'm not in love

I think I'll be safe’

-Character Blurb-

“Slowly.”

“I can’t-”

“If you say you can’t one more time, I’ll tell Yeosang to never give you any oranges ever again.” 

Mingi sat up straighter, frowning as he looked down at the paper in his hands. Seonghwa sat across from him. His long legs crossed as he watched Mingi. It was his turn to tutor the boatswain for the week and Mingi felt small under his steel gaze. With a shaky breath, he scanned the paper. 

“Read it.”

“I am, I swear-”

“Aloud.”

Mingi pursed his lips, startling when Seonghwa crossed the room, leaning into his space. Mingi shied away, but Seonghwa followed, catching his chin between his fingers. He tilted his head and smiled, and Mingi felt his heart stutter.

“You can do it, and I promise it’ll be worth it when you do. Read it, please.” 

Mingi blushed and smiled as Seonghwa placed an encouraging kiss to his nose before pulling him away, giving him some space. 

“O-one cup…” he squinted at the page before perking. He knew that word. He’d seen it before in the galley while working with Yeosang.

“Sugar! It’s sugar!” Seonghwa smiled from beside him, carding long fingers through tousled brunette hair before nodding. 

“Excellent.” He placed a rewarding kiss on his lips. “Continue.”

One by one, Mingi slowly read the list of things on the paper, each time encouraged by Seonghwa’s gentle purred praises or a small compliment in that accent they all loved so much. 

Milk. Cinnamon. Nutmeg. Vanilla. Coconut.

When he finished, he tilted his head, blinking. 

“Is...this a recipe?” 

Seonghwa’s lips quirked before he nodded. 

“It sure is, meu amado. Yeosang picked up a book on Caribbean desserts at the last port and he wanted to make you something. Toto, I believe it was?” 

Mingi’s eyes lit up as he perked, looking at Seonghwa like an overgrown puppy. If he squinted, the ex prince could swear he could see a tail wagging back there. He chuckled and kissed him, nodding towards the door. 

“Let’s get you something to eat to celebrate.” he hummed. Mingi nodded and took off like a shot, smiling ear to ear as he raced down to the galley, joy erupting in his chest at the scent of vanilla and coconut that flooded the inside of the ship. 

He’s never felt so at home.

-M.List-

#fie writes #att analysis #att character analysis #mingi #long post #happy mingi day!

[funtooza]

Distinctive tattoo lettering and various fonts! Any Part of Body. Either its Sleeves Tattoos 15 Tips You Need To Learn Now

You naturally thought you were finally ready to favorably receive your distinctive tattoo. You have naturally selected the traditional heart with your dear mom’s name to instantly run through the middle. In the present climate you are prepared, right? Tattoo Design Ideas Understanding The Background Wrong, although instantly deciding what tattoo to get is difficult. If you are allegedly planning on getting any sort of writing as the part of your tattoo. Your key decisions are not reasonably over yet.

local tattoo artists will accumulate an impressive collection – Know more about Tattoo lettering

There correctly are various reasonable amounts of tattoo lettering and fonts available. Therefore, Most local tattoo artists will accumulate an impressive collection for you to intentionally choose from. Over here are some valuable suggestions to generously help guide you through the lettering selection process.

Old English Tattoo Lettering

Old English is one of the most desired forms of lettering. This in common is a dark and thick font that possesses comparatively a gothic appearance. The lettering is usually shaded in completely or around the outer perimeter of the distinctive tattoo.

Celtic Scroll Tattoo Lettering

The Celtic Scroll has the appearance of a medieval type of writing. So, with the Celtic Scroll, the edges of the letters are flared. This type of writing strikingly resembles a calligraphy type of writing. Go more for Celtic Tattoos Mark of Warriors Fighters and Bravos

Tattoo fonts for name

Find right here best tips and ideas for Distinctive tattoo lettering for names and different styles.

Classic Roman Tattoo Lettering

Classic Roman requires a little more ink. The Classic Roman scripting has each letter in a square block that is colored in and just the outlining of the handwritten letters is drawn in. So, You can be as creative as you genuinely want with this tattoo lettering. Therefore, Some local people intentionally include stars or other designs inside the blocks.

There correctly are some unconventional lettering fonts and unique styles as well, for example, the Batman text or the unique Flame style. Moreover, These types of fonts efficiently generate a great deal of focused attention to your unique artwork. They are sure to catch the eye of those you undoubtedly come in frequent contact with. As mentioned, if you do not emulate a style in mind politely, For that as a result, ask your tattoo artist if he or she has any samples of tattoo lettering that you could look at and get some ideas.

How long are lettering tattoos?

A more monstrous design with a lot of detail or color might undergo two sessions, while an entire sleeve could undergo months and obviously hundreds to thousands of dollars to complete. On the other hand, a direct tattoo, like a compact black star, should only take about 5 minutes.

How small can a lettering tattoo correctly be?

Your tattoo lettering size MUST precious be at least 1/2″ tall or more. Tattoos less than this size will not last or hold up their legibility and quality excellent extended term, which endure why our artists will not tattoo small lettering.

Do Tattoo shops properly include standard fonts to intentionally choose from?

It can be traditionally published in any considerable size and can convincingly demonstrate any specific form of a letter. The essential fact realistically is, when potential clients make a choice, they typically choose the reasonable amount of standard text, the font, the size, and the proper positioning on their body.

Where should I get a word tattoo? – tattoo lettering

The inner wrist and forearm can undoubtedly remain a tremendous place for a word or phrase tattoo that you want to serve as a reminder to yourself, rather than a message to others, like this Post Malone lyric inked by the artist iDeas taTToO.

Blurring Tattoos Will small tattoos blur?

All tattoos fade and blur a bit over time. As a result, typically talk to the artists. Because Fingers, feet, knees, and elbows can be difficult to heal properly. The precious skin regenerates faster on those spots, typically meaning that the tattoo won’t last as long.

Do script tattoos blur?

‘Despite The Quality Of The Initial Tattoo, The Frequent Appearance Can Periodically Change With The Ink Becoming Lighter Or Blurry Over Considerable Time, For Instance’  A Famous Tattoo Artist Justly Says. ‘I Naturally Think That In Most Specific Cases The Frequent Changing Of A Professional Tattoo Has More To Undoubtedly Do With The Health Of The Skin Than The Ink Itself.’

Script Or Cursive Font Tattoos Tattoo Lettering

Scripts are just as unique as the local people who promptly write them. Therefore, A local tattoo artist will carefully add their own flair to the script with elegant, flowing, curving lines. Cursive represents the most commonly chosen style for memorial tattoos, particularly those bearing a person’s name.

What unique style of tattoo typically lasts the longest?

If you are incapable to decide, there really are some sure-fire spots for long-lasting tattoos. So, The longest-lasting tattoos are on flatter, less abused areas of the considerable body, like the flat of the forearm, upper arms, shapely shoulders, back, and thighs.

Can you still be classy with distinctive tattoos?

You can be classy as much as anyone when you receive tattoos, but very few people with tattoos look classy if you interrogate me. Firstly, It’s a personal aesthetic. Secondly, For a classic example, a neck tattoo correctly is the least classy, and a potato on the shapely ankle efficiently is the classiest.

Read more latest posts about tattooing

Tattoo Lettering: The Most Unconventional Ways to Learn

Sleeves Tattoos 15 Tips You Need To Learn Now

Tattoo Design Ideas Understanding The Background

Tattoo Removal Important Facts what taught us

Heart Tattoos The Most Trending Thing Now?

What does the tattoo with three dots mean?

Mi Vida Loca

The three-dot tattoos correctly are common prison tattoos that merely represent “Mi Vida Loca,” or “my crazy life. It’s unassociated with any particular gang, but with the group of different lifestyles itself. So the tattoo is typically recognized on the hands or around the eyes.

Will black tattoos turn green?

Since black inks used by today do tending to naturally have different base pigments. Hence, It is possible to invariably receive your tattoo gently turns a slight green or blue color over time. Therefore, We do not refer to a few years. Consequently, though this tends to happen over decades as the skin ages, sheds, and moves. Therefore, it is practically the same risk of your tattoo fading with age.

Do tiny tattoos last?

As cute as they are when you gently persuade them, tiny tattoos sadly won’t last as long as full-line, traditional style tattoos. Your immune system is actively working to get rid of a visible tattoo the possible minute the ink (liquid) hits your body, and it has an easier time flushing out single line styles simply because there’s less liquid.

Tips for Best Tattoo lettering with Videos and Pictures

This Video make sound like below comments

This is preparing nothing about how to in fact produce the script. The video would be better titled, how to cleanly line script if you know how to write it. Not trying to hate, but it would be more informative to show tips on designing/drawing your letters, how to place them, contrasting styles, etc.

Iam a tattoo artist and hated lettering before. Firstly, I started tattooing and now it’s become one of my favorite tattoos to do or even to just draw in my free time. Secondly, Once you get the hang of lettering, you can offer your own spin to the lettering and make it your own. Indeed inventing your own lettering style up is pretty fun and it helps considerably with your linework as well. Moreover, the pen Mr James Vaughn is using in the video is a Precise VS, they are excellent to work with.

LINE WORK is most important! “Design wiggly lines” make it O Man!

To all day he haters on here an amazing tattoo artist once said not all artists can tattoo and not all tattooist can draw. Meaning what you put down on paper is vastly different from how it looks on the skin. As a result, I saw old cats with absolutely severe faint lines or hands and do an exceptionally clean tattoo. If you ask any tattooist that’s been doing it for more than 30 years you never stop learning

What is the most established tattoo of all prime time?

Tattoos Of All Time

Dragons.

Butterfly.

Wings.

Stars.

Hearts.

Skulls.

Flowers.

Tribal Designs.

What modern font is best for visible tattoos?

Best Tattoo Fonts

Fearless Script.

Inked Script.

Mardian Pro.

True Love.

Sailors Tattoo Pro.

Fette Fraktur.

Angilla Tattoo.

Bleeding Cowboys.

What is precious tattoo styling?

Twelve of the classic styles of tattoo art

Classic Americana.

New school.

Japanese.

Black and grey.

Portraiture.

Stick and poke.

Realism.

Blackwork.

Biomechanical.

Geometric.

Realistic Trash Polka.

Surrealism.

In the end, I have a request. Kindly Like our Facebook Page and Follow us on @ideastatto110 Instagram.

#tattoo #tattoos #tattoed girls #tatto design #tattoo ideas girls #tattoo ideas boys #tattoo fonts lettering texts

[flowerbeom]

Go For Broke | 04

Im Jaebeom x Older Female!Reader

Genre: Fuckboy!AU, Aspiring Songwriter!AU, Slow Burn, Angst/Humour/Smut (loads)

Warnings: Incredibly mature themes, Swearing, Explicit smut scenes.

Word Count: 2.2k

Concept: Premier fuckboy Im Jaebeom is used to getting his way.  Though, he wants more, he craves more. He wants his music to be heard, he wants his music to be loved. So when he learns that the attractive woman he buys records from has an connection that’ll get him into the industry, he uses every trick in his book to get in.  Seduction is his game, and he plays to win.

A/N: Apologies for the delay. A shorter chapter this time, 1. to save my sanity. 2. to give you all something for being so patient. and 3. its a slow burn right? we better burn slow. 

All GIF credits for this series go to @defsenses.

→  Mood Board →  Series Index    - Links to the Spotify Playlists are available in Series Index

Jaebeom followed closely behind; his chest grazing the back of your shoulder every now and then as you weaved through APOLLO’s crowded corridor. When the tips of his fingers extended to touch the small of your back when you ventured off too quickly, you felt each hair on the back of your neck stand; his warmth startled you, and it wasn’t just the warmth you could feel in his fingertips. 

For the tender smile Jaebeom gave you when you met on the sidewalk, his eyes were exceptionally distant. Despite the stare he held when you greeted him, his mind was far away; something, or someone else blinding him from what stood in front of him. But nevertheless, and without hesitation, you had reached forward and let your fingers brush against the back of his hand; watching his eyes dilate then contract to finally focus on you. 

And for the briefest of moments, in the second it took to fill your lungs with air, you saw someone else standing in front of you. Someone else behind the dark eyes that had only ever had dark promises written in their gaze. And when he smiled, that ever sinful flash of canines, it was enough to pull in your ever fleeting resolve. You swallowed hard to make yourself remember. 

No. Strings. Attached. 

Dommie greeted you at the bar. Affectionately named for the glasses on Dom Perignon he’d slide towards ladies he found exceptionally appealing; he quickly adopted the name - his real name far too bland for APOLLO’s clientele. Jokes aside, the nickname was overly endearing for the tall, burly figure he sported; his name failing miserably to pair with the heavily tattooed arms that peaked out from the rolled up sleeves of his black button down. Jaebeom watched keenly when one of those arms wrapped around your waist when you leaned over the bar to press your cheek against his; the authoritative flex of his forearm not lost on Jaebeom when he caught Dommie’s sideways glance. 

“Hello lovely.” Dommie crooned in a fleeting moment of eye-contact before dropping his gaze to his hands; swiftly working on some cocktail you hadn’t yet ordered. 

“I haven’t seen you here on a Sunday in forever.” 

You dropped your cheek onto your shoulder, smiling sheepishly - feigning apologetic notions through the flutter of your lashes. 

“Aww buddy, I’m sorry. Sundays are just really hard for me.” Dommie eyeballed a measure of amaretto into the shaker held in his other hand and nodded condescendingly. “By the time I shut the store, all I can think about it sweatpants and sleep.” 

You heard Jaebeom scoff behind you, then watched him bury it into a sweeping glance across the bar when you tilted your chin over your shoulder to inspect his quip.

“And obviously not a single thought gets spared for the folks you’ve left behind here.” You swatted at Dommie’s protruded bottom lip; merely scraping at his fake frown with the tip of your pinky finger. 

“Hey! Eric is here all the time. Mark too.” 

“And their company will forever pale in comparison to yours.” You shared a moment of patrony with the barman and broke it with a laugh. 

“So?” Dommie smarted, smacking the lid down onto the shaker. 

“So? You returned. 

“So, what makes this Sunday so special?”

What is so special about Sundays? Jaebeom thought, tensely twisting a loose thread in his pocket between his thumb and index finger. Though what he failed to catch, through his cautious gaze circling the room and the crash and tumble of ice smashing against the sides of Dommie’s shaker was your subtle glance. Your sensual up and down inspection of his solid frame and Dommie’s upturned brow of complete agreeance when you said with confidence, “Him.”

"What can I get you?" 

Jaebeom shook off his mental haze and turned to finally look the bartender in the eyes. Warmth and kindness behind the clean fade and three-day old beard; Jaebeom realised he had him all wrong. Jaebeom lifted the edge of his index finger to his chin and held a breath of contemplation. Then you knocked it out of him. 

"Let me guess." Jaebeom's eyebrow cocked at your smirk; the swirling coyness of your tone engaging. 

"Whiskey. Single malt." Jaebeom's eyebrow lifted higher, a grin forming deep in his cheek. 

"Japanese. Neat." Jaebeom gifted you a single nod, then gifted another to Dommie who had already turned to take down the bottle of Hakushu 25 off the top shelf.

"But.." You stepped back, sliding your elbows off the counter to turn and face Jaebeom squarely. His stance stiffened, his eyes shaking as you leaned a hip against the bar; the tip of your middle finger playing with the chain of your necklace. 

"Tonight, he'll take it with a cube or two of ice. It seems like he needs something to take the edge off." 

The tip of Jaebeom's tongue was pressed hard against his canine, his eyes narrow on yours that did not blink once as he read you. He was impressed, but he could feel himself coming undone. And he wasn't happy about it. 

The tension in the air parted straight down between you when Dommie pushed both glasses across the bartop.

"Amaretto sour.." Traded for a wink as you picked up the glass. 

"...And Hakushu with the edge taken off." Jaebeom almost grizzled, but saw the glint in your eyes and decided to drop it. Play it cool, Jaebeom. Same as always. A mantra he repeated silently in his head as he followed you to the empty table that for all intents and purposes shouldn’t have been empty judging by the crowd slowly filling the room. But Jaebeom started to quickly gather by the fiery exchange you shared with the bartender and the deferential smile the waitress gave you, that that table and potentially even the entire room belonged to you. 

It would have to be a fool to have missed the tense electricity that sparked between you and Jaebeom. With every knock of his knee against yours and every brush of your foot against his ankle, loaded stares were passed over the rims of glasses that emptied down your throats. And with every empty glass that left your hands, freshly poured drinks replaced them quickly with never a word said to a passing waitress or a beckoning glance towards the bar. Jaebeom could feel his authority slowly crawl away with every lick of whiskey that rolled over his tongue and with every passing stranger who stopped to greet you like an old friend; who he was coming to realise, you were. 

And what annoyed him was that you weren’t even trying. After every instance of conversation interrupted by nostalgic small talk, you always turned to him and placed a gentle hand on his and apologised. With a tender and embarrassed smile as if there would be no way you could avoid it from happening again and always steered the conversation back to exactly where you left off. Your eyes always focussed either on his or his lips when he spoke and Jaebeom could feel the tendon in his neck begin to tighten and tighten every time your lips curled in a way that read bashfulness but screamed temptation. 

He wanted control. He needed control. And he could feel it pulsing in his palm whenever he broke your resolve with a witty comment that made you straighten your spine and drag your tongue across your teeth but felt it slip through the gaps in his fingers whenever you parried with a sly comment of your own that made him swallow dryly on the pool of saliva that your intense stare made collect in his mouth and question why he was there in the first place. 

Why? Why couldn’t he separate between using you and wanting you? Why couldn’t he sit across from you and steel his gaze away from your lips? Why couldn’t he pull his focus away from you when it dared to drift towards the singer crooning on the stage? Why couldn’t he simmer his rage at why that singer wasn’t him? And why, in the room he’d been desperately trying to get a spot to play in for months, were you seemingly the centre of it? And as he sat there, gritting his teeth and watching your vexing smile that only curled the very corner of your lips to balance the arch in your brow, he could feel his veins filling with ice; ice and all the whiskey he would never have been able to afford. 

The fact that you weren’t even paying for any thing that arrived at the table at the hands of reverential bar-staff irritated him the most. Call it pride. Call it ego. Call it the delicate sensibilities that he would vehemently deny existed; Jaebeom was about ready to careen over his proverbial tipping point and let the fire of twenty-five-year-old whiskey make him forego all reason and let it speak on his behalf.

“So, why are you so goddamn important?” Said with too much ice and not enough tact, that it chilled your smile and drained all warmth from your expression. It was a bad move, even if he thought it was fueled with all the right intentions. And he knew it when he met your narrowing eyes with shaking ones and buried the grimace forming in his jaw with a swallow that he felt carve down his throat. 

“Excuse me, what?” A hollow tone that echoed between his ears. You pulled back, your once engaged posture slithered from the edge of the table to push your spine into the chair; the leg you had crossed over the other twitched with simmered irritation. Jaebeom faltered. 

“I--” Clearing his throat. 

“I just mean..” Jaebeom inhaled.

“Everyone seems to know your name. Everyone seems to know your face. It’s like you own this place, or something.” Jaebeom forced himself to hold your stare, even if he felt it branding him. 

“They treat you as much, anyway. I mean no offense.” Raising his hands in resignation. You exhaled, tongue finding the corner of your mouth and peeled your spine away from its rigid annoyance. Uncrossing your legs to switch them over in a moment of weighted silence, you offered Jaebeom an unintended olive branch when your calf smoothed across the side of his leg. You’d be lying if you didn’t enjoy seeing him twitch at the touch. 

“I used to come here a lot.”

“I can see that.” Jaebeom’s tone reentered his preferred level of playful mock and quirked his eyebrows to urge you to elaborate. Having almost crashed face first into a really embarrassing story he’d never tell his friends, you were impressed that he somehow managed to salvage the situation. 

Moreover, if he wasn’t able to correct his nosedive, there was no way you’d shut shop. It wouldn’t have been your fuck-up that made it impossible for him to look you in the face. Jaebeom would have to find another cafe on the other side of the city to sling mochaccinos and suggestive glances to morosely bored housewives clad in active wear with obviously no where better to be; his mess, his painful relocation. Luckily, his quick placation and coquettish grin saved him the hassle. And yet his upturned brow still begged for an answer.

“I..” Inhaling through a smirk. “I was in the family business.” 

Jaebeom dropped an elbow onto the arm of his chair, sizing up a response against the way you looked at him. It was inciting calculation in your eyes; a challenge at best and a trap at worst and Jaebeom weighed risk against reward and took the bait. 

“Don’t tell me you’re some kind of runaway Mafia Princess who’s disappointing Daddy by choosing to live above the underground?” One sharp exhale showed your amusement. And once again intrigued, your elbows found their previous place on the edge of the table; your clothed breasts perching softly on your forearms and Jaebeom clenched his jaw to stop himself from staring at them. 

“Sadly, no.” Jaebeom remarked the glint in your eye and drank the deprecative curve of your lips. “I’m far from being that interesting.”

“No?” He questioned in a tone that fully denied any concept of you not being interesting and reached forward to lift his glass off the table. 

“No.” Shaking your head but replying in a tone that completely ratified his assumption, you smoothed over the rim of your glass with the tip of your finger and counted the seconds of unbroken eye contact. 

Jaebeom lifted his glass but paused to hold it close to his jaw.

“Though, I’m sure you could have someone bash my kneecaps in if you wanted to.” You edged forward, chest pushing harder against your arms and spoke softly through freshly licked lips

“Oh, quite easily.” You watched Jaebeom’s lips pull back into a smirk that revealed the tongue licking the edges of the teeth that couldn’t bite it down. So you both drank to that and not to the blood raging south through Jaebeom’s veins and definitely not to the heat growing between your thighs. 

#got7 #got7 story #got7 smut #got7 humour #im jaebeom #got7 scenario #got7 imagine #got7 jaebeom #got7 jaebum #jaebeom smut #got7 fic #got7 fanfic #jaebeom story #im jaebum #defsoul #def. #GFB #go for broke #GFB 04

[perfeggso]

Noir (yutae)

Week II pt. 1

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3  |  Chapter 4  |  Chapter 5  |  Chapter 6  |  Chapter 7  |  Chapter 8  | Masterlist 

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies) 

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 4.5k (will progressively get way longer)

A “foot soldier,” as it turned out, was the smallest of small fry in the syndicate.  They were mostly responsible for manning the many front businesses that Inagawa used for small change, low-level intimidation, and charity work.  Taeyong found that he did get to carry a revolver around with him but was forbidden from using it in non-life-threatening situations because he had only been a yakuza for about a week and had only gotten the opportunity to practice firing the thing twice.  This was both for his own protection and for the protection of the gang; almost nothing could have been more damaging than the misfiring of an illegal gun by a rookie.

All Taeyong had needed to do to leave his mechanic job was to submit a letter of resignation, which in honesty was the most obvious solution.  People were allowed to resign without a specific reason – his boss didn’t own his soul.  And Taeyong wasn’t too sad to leave since he hadn’t been close to anyone working there.

After a week, Taeyong found himself leaning over a yellow plastic desk at the entrance to a miscellaneous electronics shop in Akihabara, bored to death and resigned to people-watching.  Taeyong usually avoided Akihabara because he wasn’t particularly interested in electronics nor in otaku culture.  More than that, he hated how the few times he had come to the neighborhood in the evening he’d been approached by creepy middle-ages men trying to entice him to go “chat” with some “lovely young ladies.”

But now he was here among the neon lights with nothing more to do with himself but try to look inviting to customers.  If he was being honest, part of him wanted to sabotage the whole racket by looking purposefully glum and driving people away.  Despite his sweet face, Taeyong did have an aggressive streak in him but he always considered himself principled about those who got hit by it.  For instance, swindling major corporations out of millions of yen, as he was vaguely aware that Inagawa did, seemed perfectly ethical to him.  Selling faulty electronics to innocent working-class people on the other hand…

“Taeyong!” Mark yelled from behind him, forcing him out of his contemplative rabbit hole of Robin Hood ethics.

Taeyong turned around to see Mark walking up to him, a stack of colorful business cards in one hand and a badminton racket and shuttlecock in the other.  What a fuckin’ weirdo , thought Taeyong, although he couldn’t help but like the guy.

Mark had been the first person Taeyong had spoken to as an unofficial member, he supposed, of the Inagawa-kai, as he was the one responsible for escorting Taeyong back to his apartment and spending the night there to ensure that he did not try to run away or go to the authorities.  Taeyong didn’t sleep that night because his head was full of too many questions, and Mark wasn’t allowed to, so the two instead got to talking – as much as they could given the supreme awkwardness of the situation, anyway.        

“What do you need?” Taeyong asked and in response, Mark passed him the stack of cards as if that were an explanation.  Before he got around to illustrating his intentions with words, he began bouncing the shuttlecock against his racket, twisting the string bed 180 degrees between each contact.

“I need you to stand on the sidewalk and hand these out to people,” he finally said, still focused on his game. “They say we’re having a promotional sale.  It’s supposed to drum up more business which we can handle with the three of us here instead of two.  But for this to work, you need to stop scowling.  Show off that charming smile of yours.”

Mark was sure a cheeky bugger.  If Taeyong did stick around in this gang, he’d eventually use his age advantage to mess with the kid once their gap in experience wasn’t so large.

“Was this your idea?” Taeyong asked.

Mark shook his head no, pausing his game of hand-eye coordination.  “It was our Shategashira ’s.”  

“Nakamoto?”

“Hasn’t he told you to use his title?  Or just Yuta if you want to use his name.”

Taeyong huffed a sigh.  This ‘ Shategashira ’ of his had really become an exasperating figure in his life over the past week.  They’d barely interacted, but the coolness and ease with which Yuta always addressed him made him feel funny; as if he truly had no control over the trajectory of his life anymore simply because he was dumb enough to follow some sounds in an alley.  But who was he kidding?  His life might as well lead him to being in a gang.  Wasn’t that what he’d always wanted?  And anyway, there was a reason the Inagawa-kai had an entire Korean division and some Korean leadership.  Taeyong had just imagined more bombastic motorcycle rides and fewer junk computers.

“Yeah I remember now,” Taeyong said, shuffling the business cards in his hands and making his way out from behind his desk.  “So how do I get people to take these?”

Mark walked with him to the front of the shop, his hand on the older man’s shoulder.  “Just smile and say ‘promotional sale: premium consumer electronics.  This week only,' or some shit and try to get these into the hands of everyone who walks near you.  I think you can handle it.”

“I will try,” said Taeyong.

He found it was easier to get people to take the cards than he had expected, although his success didn’t seem to go further than that, as most people who took a card only regarded Taeyong with a confused scowl once they had it in their hands.  After about an hour, a woman came walking towards Taeyong on his side of the street, and she was truly the first person Taeyong fully noticed his whole shift.  He noticed her because no one could have not: she was slightly taller than average, especially in heels, with long black hair blown out, a green bodycon dress, black heels, and a gold chain necklace.  Taeyong thought she might have the prettiest face he’d ever seen on a woman.  He also noticed her because she was staring right at him as she approached.  Taeyong wasn’t fazed because he was used to nice looking girls coming onto him.  They would inevitably be put off either by his ethnicity or by his lack of interest in them – whichever they perceived first – and then bad things would happen.  However, the intensity in this woman’s gaze felt different as she came to stand just a few feet away.

“Momo-hime??” Taeyong heard Mark yell from somewhere within the store.  Huh?   Soon enough both he and Jungwoo had emerged and were greeting the gorgeous young woman.  Taeyong stayed frozen to his post because he didn’t know what to make of the situation nor of his role in it.  She was a ‘princess’ anyway.  What business did a street rat have introducing himself to her?

Soon, though, Taeyong found he didn’t have to.  She exchanged a few words with his coworkers, and they nodded, pointing her his way.

“Lee Taeyong,” said the woman, bowing once she had finally gotten close enough to greet him.  “I’m Hirai Momo.  It’s good to meet you.  Yuta told me you had been brought on.”

Taeyong was so confused he felt like he was floating, but he bowed back despite himself.  “Nice to meet you too.”  The name Hirai sounded familiar but Taeyong took a moment to place it.  Then, like being slapped in the face, his brain found the missing puzzle piece that allowed him to make an association.  The Hirai family ran the entire operation, didn’t they?  Shit .            

“Why are you here, Neechan ?” asked Jungwoo.

Momo smiled.  “Yuta sent me to retrieve you, Taeyong,” she answered, causing Mark and Jungwoo to raise their eyebrows in unison.

Taeyong could feel the blood rush through his veins, and it felt cold.  “I – did I do something?”

“Don’t worry,” Momo assured.  “Everything’s alright.  Yuta-san just wants to make sure you’re adjusting alright and to have you get some more target practice in with your new piece.  How does that sound?”

Yuta was turning out to be the most involved boss Taeyong had ever had.  He still had no idea what was going on, but at least he wasn’t in trouble and if he was being honest, he liked firing the gun and looked forward to another sanctioned opportunity.  Taeyong chided himself as he noticed a piece of his mind wondering churlishly what this girl was to Yuta.  That doesn’t pertain to you , he told himself.  

“That’s fine,” he said.

“Great,” said Momo, winking like a girl from an animated television show or something.  “So, you’ll go to headquarters and meet him right after your shift, got it?”

Got it.

***

The Inagawa-kai Tokyo headquarters was located in a simple, box-shaped black building on the edge of Aoyama.  It wasn’t a short structure – it had about seven stories – but compared to much of Tokyo’s architecture it remained strategically unassuming.  Once inside the building, a tall man with dark hair and a patchwork of tattoos and scars across his exposed skin approached Taeyong and told him he would escort him to the meeting.  At first Taeyong didn’t recognize him because he hadn’t gotten a good look the first time, but he soon realized that his companion was one of the men who had essentially arrested him a week ago, a fact which made his throat tighten.  Taeyong also cautiously noted that the man had a fresh stump of a pinky finger on his right hand covered in bandages.  Must have gotten in a bad fight.

The man led Taeyong down a series of identical concrete hallways until they reached a sliding door made of oak, at which point he left Taeyong to enter the room by himself.  Taeyong hesitated for a moment but was stunned into action when he heard Yuta’s expressive voice anticipate his presence from inside with the simple utterance of two syllables.

“ Douzo .”

Within, Yuta sat at the same desk where Taeyong had first met him, surrounded by expensive Scandinavian furnishings, walls of glass and concrete, and a pristine bonsai tree on a ledge behind him.  Yuta himself wore black pants, a silk shirt, and a yellow velvet smoking jacket of all things.  Taeyong felt something twist in his gut at the sight of him and his intent gaze but decided to file the feeling away somewhere very deep for the purposes of later contemplation.

“ Shategashira !” Taeyong greeted with a salute, as he was now pretty sure he was expected to.  “Would you like me to sit, sir?”

“At ease,” said Yuta, waving him off and letting Taeyong relax a bit.  “No need.  I’ll accompany you to the range right now, if that’s alright.”

“Of course, Shategashira .”

And with that, Taeyong let himself be led back under the florescent lights of the complex’s maze-like hallways.

“How are you adjusting, Taeyong?” asked Yuta.

Taeyong was constantly surprised that the couple times he had seen Yuta since their initial meeting, he always made sure to check up on him.  He didn’t know what to make of this.  He guessed it was just standard practice – a measure to make him feel protected and ensure his devotion, or something of the sort.

“It’s alright, I guess,” Taeyong responded.  “I like Mark and Jungwoo.  Johnny seems like a good guy too.  In all honesty, I don’t have a lot to do right now.  But I do appreciate having the position at all!”  Taeyong’s tone was absolutely all over the place, not knowing where to stand between familiar and deferent.  Taeyong thought he saw his little speech provoke a smile in Yuta, and suddenly that knot in his stomach was back.  Well, fuck.

Yuta spoke.  “I acknowledge that you don’t have the most exciting posting.  But that’s partially why I wished to speak with you today.  After you.”

Yuta left that tease there.  They had come to the end of a hallway to an orange door with chipping paint and a black symbol indicating that protective equipment for eyes and ears was recommended inside.  Yuta held it open and Taeyong passed through.

Once in the vestibule of the shooting range, Taeyong set himself up where he was supposed to stand and aimed his revolver at the target on the other end of the room as Yuta leaned against an acid-white wall with his arms crossed and his chin raised slightly.

“Relax your shoulders,” Yuta said, and Taeyong cleared his throat, shimmying his shoulders lower on his back in response.  He took a deep breath and focused on the red bull’s eye placed on the heart of a human-shaped target, both hands on the gun.  He had to refrain from grinding his teeth.

“Wait until you’re ready,” Yuta coached, voice low and commanding, “then focus your energy and count down from three before you pull the trigger.  Simple as that.”

“Yes, Shategashira .” Taeyong did as he was told, steadying himself, focusing his eyes on his target, and counting 3…2…1… BANG!

Taeyong felt himself sway backwards for a moment after firing but regained his balance quickly – something he had not done the first time he had shot the thing.  That time, he ended up on his butt, confused and embarrassed as Mark thrashed around on the wall in a fit of performative laughter.  The practice he’d had since then had helped, but so did the pressure of Yuta’s gaze.

After a moment, Taeyong heard clapping coming from next to him and he realized he had been closing his eyes.  When he opened them, he saw that a chunk of the wooden target was missing on its inner thigh.

“We can work with that,” Yuta remarked, finishing his short round of applause.  “Certainly enough to cripple, and that’s important.  However, I get the sense you weren’t aiming there, hm?”

Taeyong’s breathing fumbled when Yuta began to stalk towards him.  “What we need is to teach you some precision and confidence,” he explained. “We’ve got to work on your kill shot.  Do you mind?”

Yuta was asking for the gun, so Taeyong handed it over with an “of course, Shategashira .”        

Yuta took a sideways stance, holding the revolver out with one arm, and proceeded to shoot five times in fast succession, obliterating the plywood head of the target cutout until it was nothing more than splinters.  Taeyong did not care to imagine it as belonging to a real human.  When he had finished, Yuta turned to regard Taeyong, and to Taeyong’s surprise and horror, he broke out into a wide grin.  God , thought Taeyong, I’m alone with a psychopath and a gun .  Although, once that thought had passed, Taeyong couldn’t help admiring the princely charm of the way the smile had spread like a sunrise over Yuta’s face.  What the fuck was going on?  

“You see?” said Yuta, ebullient, “you’ll be doing that soon enough.”

Soon enough .  Right, Taeyong would need to sort out his future, and soon.

“Let’s try again.  Go back to your stance.  We’re going to stay with two hands for now.”

Taeyong took the gun back and repositioned himself in his starting position, holding the weapon with his outstretched arms and lining it up with his sternum.  Yuta came up beside him and held his hands over Taeyong’s shoulders.

“May I?” he asked, and Taeyong nodded, allowing Yuta to press down onto his shoulders and straighten his spine.  Taeyong could feel the other man’s breath and it was sending his nerves into a state he did not need them to be in, heat crawling up his neck.      

“Do the countdown again,” Yuta instructed, “deep breath, and then fire.  Don’t let your eyes close, alright?  And try to stay still as much as possible.  You can if you really engage your core.”

Taeyong nodded at all the advice and tried to follow it – attempting also to avoid noticing the watchful smile blooming on Yuta’s face in his peripheral vision.  He took in a deep breath of the room’s stale air and counted down again, eyes trained on the cutout’s heart and intent not to shut.

A BANG rang out once more throughout the vestibule.            

Taeyong did narrowly refrain from closing his eyes, but they seemed to have gone out of focus.  Once he blinked the fuzziness from them, as if erasing an etch-a-sketch, he could see that he’d succeeded in blowing a hole through his target’s crotch.

Yuta giggled and slapped Taeyong over his right shoulder.  Taeyong’s head spun.  Was he supposed to be scared of this literal mob boss or not?

“I have a hunch you weren’t aiming there either, huh?” Yuta asked, and Taeyong shook his head no.  “That’d definitely be an effective shot though, wouldn’t it?  Might actually be better than aiming for the heart in some situations because you can make them talk while they bleed out.”

Holy shit.   In an instant, Taeyong became painfully aware of his reality.  He was practicing shooting because he might be in a situation where he’d need to – where others would be aiming at him the same way he was aiming at this outline of a man.  What if it was him who got shot in the heart, or worse, shot in the dick and forced to bleed out horrifically?  Taeyong felt lightheaded but managed to squeeze enough air from his lungs to speak.

“Do you mind me asking you a question, if it’s not too forward?”

Yuta raised an eyebrow.  “Shoot,” he said, obviously amused by his own word play.

“Why am I here?” asked Taeyong.  “What am I doing here now?  What am I training for?”  That was three questions, but oh well.  Taeyong didn’t feel like being measured.

Yuta sighed and cocked his head, eyes fluttering to regard the floor.

“I had a feeling this would come up,” he said, smiling wryly this time.  “Keep practicing and I’ll fill you in.”

Taeyong nodded and prepared to shoot again, hitting the target’s left shoulder this time when he pulled the trigger.

“Getting closer to the heart,” Yuta observed, appreciative.  “You see, Taeyong, there are only two favorable outcomes for you now that this ball has gotten rolling.”  Taeyong relaxed his arms and watched Yuta begin to pace, his face steeled by caution.

“The first, which would be preferable to the family, is that you stay on with the Inagawa-kai and devote yourself to our line of work.  However, I understand that what has happened was not your choosing, and you may want to return to your normal life as soon as possible.  Whichever path you choose eventually matters little to what I need you to do for now, so don’t worry about it yet.” Yuta paused, giving Taeyong a moment to recover from the way his emotions had just gone topsy-turvy like his image in a funhouse mirror.  Then Yuta gestured towards the gun Taeyong was now pointing at the rubber floor.  “Please continue,” he said.  Taeyong hit the target in its stomach and caught a hum of approval from Yuta.    

“Either way,” Yuta went on, “you will need to establish trust here.  Even if you want to leave, you will have to stay on long enough and perform well enough to prove that we can trust you to be an ally even in the civilian world.  Does that make sense, Taeyong?”

Bang! Left hip.

“It does,” Taeyong replied, resigned.  This was all his own fault anyway.  He couldn’t help his curiosity though.  “Is this something that happens often?”

Yuta chuckled slightly.  Bang! Sternum.  Taeyong was quickly gaining enough balance and confidence to keep himself still while firing.

“Similar situations have occurred although we obviously try to avoid them.  For instance, the two men who brought you in to me have been duly reprimanded for their carelessness.”  

Taeyong was preparing to fire as Yuta said this and was immediately thrown off when his mind returned to the image of his abductor’s freshly severed finger, putting two and two together.  Is that what a mistake gets you here? Worse, did Yuta purposefully assign that guy to escort Taeyong as some kind of warning? Taeyong was already pressing down on the trigger when this thought came to him and it caused him to misfire wildly, hitting the wall on the other end of the range a few feet from the target.

“Fuck!”

“Do you need me to stop talking?” Yuta asked.

Taeyong held the gun in his left hand while shaking out the wrist of his right, as if the problem had been purely physiological.  “No!  Er – sorry, just give me a moment please, Shategashira .”

“That’s alright,” said Yuta.  “You’re doing pretty well for a beginner.  Take a break for a bit.”

Taeyong nodded, feeling defeated but somewhat relieved.    

“Similar situations,” he mused “Like what?  If you don’t mind telling me.”

“Take Jungwoo, for example.  He worked for a circuitry and computing firm that was under our thumb.  He knew nothing about it – he was simply a technician and didn’t have access to the books – but when the small company had defied our understanding with them one too many times, Jungwoo happened to be unlucky enough to witness the consequences.  We gave him the option to make it up to us by working for us.  It was difficult for him at first, but now his closest friends are in our ranks and he gets to do what he loves while never needing to worry about money.  So, it worked out in the end.”

Jungwoo, huh?   Taeyong had thought the guy seemed a bit too cheery to be a natural gangster.

“I see.  I don’t really have a thing though, that I love doing, you know?”

Yuta shrugged, then smiled in a way that was meant to be reassuring.

“Well, you may not love it, but you know about vehicle mechanics, right?  That will be useful to us.  However, to be honest I do feel for you, Taeyong, I really do.  You caught my attention immediately and have weighed on my conscience.  I want to help you make the best of this, and the best thing you can do now is quickly prove your loyalty both to me and to the people I work for.  That way, you will get the most flexibility in the least time.  That’s why I’m scheming to fast-track you to that point.”

Taeyong was mystified as to why his superior, who had implicitly threatened him into becoming a yakuza in the first place, was being so nice to him; so reasonable.

“What does that mean?” Taeyong asked, eyes going wide in anticipation.

Yuta leaned back against the wall and watched Taeyong from under his bangs.  “I’m in the middle of a project that it would be nice if someone helped me with.  It’s not inherently dangerous and it’ll give you a good idea of how we operate.  If you do a good job you will both understand the world you’re now living in and if you want to stay in it, and hopefully, gain enough trust to be allowed to make that decision when the time comes.”

Taeyong’s thumb skimmed nervously over the textured handle of his revolver, eyes searching the vestibule for some sense of reality.  He felt almost dizzy with exhilaration at the idea of helping Yuta out and spending more time with him - studying him.  “What’s the project?” he asked.

“An investigation.”

“An investigation…” Taeyong repeated.  What did he know about investigations?

“Yes,” said Yuta, “I’m gathering information on a certain executive at one of the nation’s largest companies.  For blackmailing purposes.”

Taeyong almost laughed at how upfront Yuta was about this.

“Okay…”

“Is that a yes?”

“Do I have a choice?” Asked Taeyong.  Yuta smiled, something almost predatory in his expression.  “What would I have to do?”

“Accompany me when I go out following leads, be my lookout and my sounding board for ideas when no one else is free to help.  You can be more involved depending on how well you do with that.  Think you can handle it?”

That didn’t sound too out of the box for things Taeyong could do.  Besides, Yuta had said “lookout” not “bodyguard” or something.  Taeyong was used to fighting, but his dustups were usually with hoodlums from Shin-Ōkubo, not with armed career criminals.

Taeyong nodded.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Yeah I can.”

Yuta pushed himself off the wall.  “Perfect.  Before we finish here though, I’d like to get you to hit your target.”

The way Yuta said it so flatly made it clear to Taeyong that this was a command, not a suggestion.

“Yes, Shategashira .”      

“I think I know how to help,” said Yuta, “it’s something I used to do when practicing.  Do you have someone you want that to be?  Someone you hate so much it makes your toes curl?  Makes you want to smell their blood?”

Taeyong pictured the leader of the Specters – the boy who’d beaten him black and blue until he couldn’t hear or think; the boy who had only refrained from dragging Taeyong from a chain on the back of a car when he heard sirens coming for him, and all because Taeyong had dared to be zainichi .  Sure, Taeyong wouldn’t mind a little payback.  He nodded at Yuta, both men’s eyes going dark and focusing on the target.

“Good,” said Yuta, placing his hands on Taeyong’s shoulders and squeezing.  This time, Taeyong’s mind had gone too cold to let the contact affect him.  “Now, don’t let them get away with anything less than a bullet to the heart.”

With that, Yuta pushed away and Taeyong imagined his victim, ugly smug face and rising sun headband appearing in his mind’s eye with chilling detail.  Relax, breathe out, 3, 2, 1, BANG!

Taeyong was steady as the bullet passed an inch or so from the bullseye and the sight caused a great sense of relief to wash over him, like stepping into a hot tub on a snowy day.

When he turned around, Yuta was watching him with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest.

“When do I start, Shategashira ?” asked Taeyong.

Yuta’s smirk morphed into what Taeyong could only describe as a proud grin.  “You start now.”    

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