#maanawa

But that’s reality, isn’t it? The way it comes crashing down on you, the way it doesn’t hold back on its punches. And sure, some were punches indeed. Like how your unofficial “boyfriend” just suddenly realised commitment was more of his thing; just not with you, but Jenny from your shared workplace. Of all the people, it was Jenny that sparked true love in his heart. Not that you had anything against cosmetic surgery and enhancements but that witch had once asked all coworkers to donate their PTO for her breast augmentation retreat in sunny Turkey. There was nothing genuine about her, physically or otherwise. 

Miffed, you decided to board the flight that you had booked for Cameron and yourself solo, without letting him know that you had planned on surprising him with tickets for a week-long trip to Rome. When Cameron and you had first met, it was a mutual love for cinema - and especially Roman Holiday - that had brought you two closer and into each others’ bedrooms. Both of you had decided early on that with your busy lives, commitment was not a priority for either of you and labels were unnecessary. Even now, there was a sense of bitterness when you had invariably referred to him as your boyfriend - he was never meant to be, after all.

So why did it hurt so much seeing other couples roaming down Trastevere, hand in hand, looking to be so in love? Eugh, that word left a worse taste in your mouth than the last dregs of the foul cocktail. The question had not left your mind, even as you checked into your hostel and made your way to the shared room, inadvertently walking in on a young man, shirtless and complaining about how even during a Roman summer he couldn’t get a tan. 

That was how your friendship with Arthur began.

There was obviously more than what meets the eye with the charming, flirtatious Scotsman, you’d come to learn - but most importantly, he was actually a fun person to hang out with! Somehow both of you had become rather friendly with each other and when he heard that you’d somehow ended up in Rome for two weeks, with no plan whatsoever, he was more than delighted to be your designated travel buddy and his #doit4thegram attitude was quite refreshing. It was funny because, for a while, it seemed like you hadn't hung out with someone fun in a long time - was it because you spent too long around Cameron? It was actually a slightly depressing thought that your non-boyfriend had distanced you from so many of your friends-

“Smile, love - how’re you gonna make that ex of yours jealous if you look miserable in the City of Love?”

“Isn’t that meant to be Paris?” you asked, fixing your hair unconsciously before posing for the camera once again.

Arthur peered up from the camera, throwing a wink towards you. “Any city can become the City of Love, if you give it a chance.”

You had to try your hardest to not roll your eyes. The picture came out nice, nonetheless, and you told Arthur just so as you peered at the screen over his back, chin resting on his shoulder. Despite being aware of how intimate this scene could look to people passing by - a young woman sitting on the steps of degenerating architecture, arms draped across the shoulders of a young man sitting on the step below - you couldn’t bring yourself to move in any way. If the rascal holding your phone asked any questions, you’d just say that this was the most comfortable way to be, on a hot summer’s afternoon. If he wanted you to move, he could always buy gelato for you. 

Perhaps you should’ve been ashamed that within the mere seconds between when you first entered the dorm and when Arthur realised there was a third person in the room, you couldn’t help but notice that despite his slender frame, his back muscles were defined and tan or not, that was still a physique you could appreciate. You had to remind yourself to get a grip, reminding yourself how you felt about holiday romances at that point - but your nagging fondness for your hostel suitemate had been creeping up on you, with every passing day. Perhaps the affections were the result of a rebound - but that would mean you would have to admit that you had gone through a breakup in the first place, right?

And just like that, your first few days in Rome was gone. Sometimes, your new friend accompanied you and at other times, you had taken to wandering to places by yourself. Initially, you did have a list in mind as you were meant to be here with Cameron but perhaps dredging up the list left a bitter taste. This particular morning, it rained heavily and out of the interest of your shoes (not waterproof), you decided to spend the day inside. Trading in glorious sights and culture for a passably comfortable sofa in front of the shared area’s television and a large bag of chips, you settle in, ready for your umpteenth rewatch of (arguably) the best move of all time, Roman Holiday.

“What’s this cheese early in the morning?” Arthur’s voice was unmistakable, you realised as he settled on your right. You winced as droplets fell off his hair, onto your shoulder and you took this opportunity to smack him with a sham of cushion that lay on your left. 

“This,” you pointed at the screen, “is a masterpiece. You better watch anything you say about it, mister.”

Arthur held up his hands defensively, doing a rather miserable job of holding back his laughter. “You’re right, I should not judge this absolute classic that has never featured on Criterion, ever.”

“God, you’re insufferably pretentious sometimes, you know that?” laughing, you gave him a playful shove, fingers coming into touch with damp material. “And you got caught in the rain, too. Did you not have an umbrella?”

“Didn’t plan on staying out till now,” Arthur shook his head with a shrug.

You paused for a moment, realising the implications of his words. “Go get changed, idiot,” you wanted to say this in a joking manner, but it came across softer than you meant it to.

Arthur looked back at you and for some reason, you felt an acute loss for words. Sapphire gaze locked onto yours and for the briefest of moments, you thought he was about to tell you something, anything to break this weird deadlock. Instead, he broke eye contact with a chuckle and a “wait for me? I do want to watch this with you”, to which you simply nodded.

By now, you knew what that rogue was all about - the scent that had taunted you when he leaned too close on the sofa wasn’t only his own and it served as a reminder of the type of activities you knew Arthur did for amusement. Yet, it hadn’t stopped the blossoming feelings in your heart one bit, instead forcing you to curl up around the cushion that you had just thrown at him. 

What was meant to be a single-party pity session at the film’s finale turned out to somehow become a double-party debate, where Arthur insisted that the movie should’ve ended differently, while you argued that the movie was perfect because of its ending. 

“But why didn’t he even try to keep in touch with her?”

You sighed, trying your best to give the man beside you the stink eye. “Some things are ephemeral, that’s what makes them beautiful.”

“All of that - and he gave her a useless tour of Rome, too.”

“Arthur!” You tried your best to not outright laugh at how this movie had made him so worked up. “They had one day!”

“One day is enough time, in my opinion.”

“What are you being so petty for?”

His sapphire gaze glanced towards you, before Arthur huffed and folded his arms. “It’s not...okay, perhaps I’m being a little petty but what does it matter? If you’re gonna base a movie in this city, you might as well utilise it a bit more!”

“Then show me around,” you leaned towards him, well aware of how close you were to playing with fire. “Give me the tour that’ll make me fall in love with this place.”

One, then two moments passed where not a single word was exchanged between the both of you but then he grinned, the action bringing attention to the beauty mark beside his lips that you always, always found yourself wishing you could kiss. “Alright, then. Tonight, 10pm. I’ll show you the best Rome you’ve ever seen in 24 hours.”

By the time the clock struck 10, darkness reigned over the city. There was a slight chill in the air but it was by no means unpleasant, you noted as you waited at the bottom of the building. Arthur joined you within minutes and you found out that your first destination was-

“This?” you pointed to the sandwich store, at the corner of the Piazza Barberini. 

“To be brutally honest with you, [Name], that came off as rather judgemental.”

“I am,” you retorted. “Late night sandwiches to start off your grand tour of Rome?” Arthur didn’t seem to find your criticism worthy of a response and - well, in all honesty, 25 minutes and one glorious combo of a panini and a cocktail later, you were wondering why you complained in the first place.

“These are so delicious? Where the hell have I been all along?” The last concern you had was talking with your mouth full. 

Arthur laughed in response, before looking out the window and pointing to a fountain in the centre of the piazza. “And see that fountain over there? That’s a Bernini creation.”

“No way, really?” You peered as hard as you could, face as close to the glass window as you possibly could, which seemed to elicit another heartfelt chuckle out of the man opposite you.

“We can go closer, if you want. No worries.”

“It’s fine,” you shook your head, still not breaking your gaze from the statue.

Despite history and architecture not being your top priorities back in your school days, you remember being entirely fascinated with Rome and those who had shaped her over the years, visually or otherwise. Bernini featured so heavily, it seemed like some type of fever dream - but in the best possible way - to just see something designed by him casually on the side of the road. 

It wasn’t until you heard a camera shutter go off that you turned towards Arthur, only to see him grinning at his phone’s screen. “You look like a child at Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory!” he was far too amused, you thought and with an exclamation, you tried to grab his phone across the table. With a speed that belied his languid pose against the chair, though, he held his own phone far away from your reach. It was so difficult to stay mad at him, though - you were having fun. Despite the bickering, the teasing and the nagging reminder at the back of your head that maybe, somewhere down the line, these memories would be just that - memories. He wasn’t meant to be a lasting presence in your life; that would ruin the magic of vacations, of course.

“I’m walking out and you’ll have to pay,” you exclaimed, pushing for one final lunge that would get the phone in your hands.

“No way,” his laugh seemed to be the only thing you focused on, completely missing how his chair tipped too far back and he almost fell over, a confident grin turned into a sheepish smile.

A shame, you seemed to like both just as much as each other. 

All these thoughts swirled around your mind as Arthur and you walked down the roads, the hour closer to midnight than not by now. It was a different Rome, you had to admit - the streets were much more deserted at night, save the occasional voice you could hear drifting down the alleys and out the windows, or of restaurant patrons, making another toast to good health and good memories.

It seemed magical, like the town belonged to you and the man whose hand you were holding (when did this happen? You did not care to think back). Arthur and you seemed to talk about anything and nothing at once - you learnt that he had a Cocker Spaniel back home, named Vic, that his friend was looking after and his dream profession was ‘author’ and, in fact, he would soon be ready to submit his first manuscript to various publishers soon.

You may have managed to ask him more questions, if realisation of the scenery before your eyes had not dawned upon you. With a veritable squeal you ran ahead, practically dragging Arthur behind you. Standing against the railing, you could see a stretch of Rome before your very eyes, with its distinct architecture and twinkling lights. 

“No way,” with a whisper, you looked towards Arthur and utterly failed in suppressing your grin, seeing the famed Spanish Steps right before your eyes, with the iconic fountain at its foot. “It’s lovely.”

“Yeah...sure is,” came the response from beside you and had you been paying attention, you may have noticed the fact that those words were spoken towards you, rather than the view ahead of both of you. Moments, perhaps minutes, passed as you gazed at the sight before your eyes, but then Arthur pointed out that it looked like the only open store in the vicinity (and luckily enough, selling gelato) was about to close. The same hand that you had yanked to the plaza moments, perhaps minutes, earlier was now dragging you down the Spanish steps.

Holding probably the most overpriced gelato in the entire town (“to be fair,” Arthur quipped, as both of you stepped outside, “one of us should’ve asked how much these were before ordering” to your comment of the true scam being not having the prices listed on the menu board) you and Arthur decided to finish the (begrudgingly, you had to admit) delicious gelato at the Steps itself. Even the slight hole burning in your pockets wasn’t enough to dampen your spirits, as you gazed at the Steps in front of you, empty save for a couple leaving. You had the entire area to yourself, an unimaginable dream, the countless times you recalled the scene of Princess Anne sitting at the steps, enjoying her gelato when Joe “simply happens” upon her. Maybe the past you would’ve wished for a romantic encounter like that, but now you-

“Hey,” Arthur’s voice broke you out of your slow-spiralling descent into self-depreciation. “Take a seat, let me take a picture of you.”

“What - no way!” your exclamation was followed by a shy, embarrassed laugh.“You got me running halfway around town, I probably look like a hot mess.”

Instead of answering you, the young man decided to step in front of you and with a flourish, gestured towards one of the ledges running down the stairs. The feigned air of haughtiness in his voice as he said “your throne awaits, m’lady” got an involuntary laugh out of you. The stone wasn’t cold, like you expected, and Arthur settled in beside you. You tried to make nothing of the proximity between the both of you - it’s no big deal, right? Two mates, sharing the moonlight on a cloudless night, gelato in hand. That’s...definitely platonic, you nodded to yourself.

“So...” pausing, Arthur turned towards you, a smile playing on his lips. “Mid-tour reviews? Am I doing better than the guy from your movie?”

You grinned back at him. “Not bad, so far but it’s probably for the best that you don’t do too well. We don’t want to be dealing with the sordid affair of falling in love, do we?”

“Of course not, love is a wretched affair altogether,” his laugh sounded more sardonic than humoured to your ears, but you couldn’t see his expression too clearly, as he looked down instead of towards you. 

When he looked back up at you, though, it was with the roguish grin that made your heart skip a beat without fail. “Anyway, let me take your picture. We do have an ex to make jealous, in case you’ve forgotten?” 

Of course you’d forgotten, perhaps you’d forgotten about Cameron almost entirely. He didn’t matter to you one bit - but there was no way you could let Arthur know that. Not when the friendship he and you had built up was based on this meagre fact; not when he looked at you like you meant something to him.

Because for what it was worth, maybe all you meant to him was a restoration project, like the countless ones you’d seen around Rome while wandering around. Maybe he’d have no reason to do anything with you after that, and for some reason that silly little notion gripped your heart with fear. And so, you agreed.

It was hard to keep that thought out of your mind, even as you and him made it to your next destination, strolling along amiably and resuming talking about nothing and everything at once. At one point though, Arthur took a step forward and turned towards you, holding out his hands. Without hesitation, you placed your hands in his and looked towards him, questions evident on your face. This somehow made him smile even more broadly (a look you were far too fond of, unfortunately) and he asked you to close your eyes.

“Last surprise, love,” his eyes shone like the skies above, full of wonder and amazement. You acquiesced, and he told you that peeking would only ruin things for you, so you let him lead you, taking careful steps forward and feeling yourself turn towards the left. When you came to a stop, he let go of your hands. “We’re here, [Name].”

Nothing - absolutely nothing - could prepare you for the sight before your eyes. You had seen the Trevi Fountain countless times in print and video, but having it before your very eyes and all to yourself left you awestruck. In the night, illuminated by all the lights around, it looked more beautiful than ever.

“I...oh my God...I-I don’t know what to say!” Words completely escaped you, as you found yourself so captivated by the sight in front of you that you didn’t even notice when Arthur had wrapped an arm around you.

“The reaction’s well worth it, [Name],” his words were softly murmured and affectionate, you didn’t know how to react as you turned towards him. The only thoughts buzzing through your mind involved how close he was, how it would be so easy to kiss him, how you wished dearly to do so-- 

One raindrop hit your cheek, followed by another one and soon, the relentless downpour left both of you with no option apart from wanting to find shelter. Arthur took your hand and dashed for the nearest store with an awning, despite how narrow it was, and both of you huddled against each other. The accompanying winds chilled you to the bone and you scrambled for any warmth you could get your hands on. Gentle fingers skirted along your cheek and you turned to find Arthur frozen in the midst of tucking a strand of your hair stuck to your cheek.

“I...er, well…” It was odd, finding the silver-tongued man lost for words. “It just looked a tad uncomfortable, so…” Perhaps, if the lighting was better, you would’ve noticed the blush dusting his cheeks but you neither wanted nor cared to know, as you leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips.

When he didn’t respond, at first, you were convinced it was a mistake. A terrible, horrible mistake so you pulled back but his lips chased yours, his kiss so fierce that it stole away your breath. At that moment, nothing had felt more right, nothing mattered more than the way you found yourself pressing up against him, his hand rising to grip your waist and your tongue slipping past his lips. 

But he pulled back, a smile on his lips that didn’t match the pain you saw in his gaze. “We should...probably stop here.”

Because that’s when you found out about Ruby, the university friend turned girlfriend. Ruby, who was once his fiancee and then left him hanging at the altar because she thought he was moving too fast. The person whom he was meant to spend this vacation with, an intended honeymoon. A part of you felt wretched - how could you have complained and cribbed so much to him, not realising that he was carrying enough baggage of his own? How horribly selfish was it of you, not to give him a chance to tell his own story.

“Don’t feel bad that you didn’t know, love.” It was as if he read your thoughts, though, as both of you walked back side-by-side. The rain had subsided to a bothersome drizzle. “I like to make it my business for others to not know mine.”

As you glanced towards him, it was painfully obvious to you that beneath his feeble smile laid uncertainty, apprehension - he was the one taking the blame for your misplaced feelings. 

“Would it…” your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat before continuing. “Do you want us to stay apart?”

“Lord, no,” his response was almost instant. “No, I’ve had the most amazing time with you, but if it made you-”

“This isn’t just about me,” you retorted, stopping in the middle of the road that you two had been crossing. “You - I need you to tell me what you want!” Your voice raising at the end was unintentional, even Arthur seemed to be taken aback.

Moments, which seemed like millennia, passed between the both of you as you stood there, gauging the other’s expression. “I...what I want is to talk to you again tomorrow,” it was Arthur who cracked first. “Tomorrow, the day after...I want to laugh with you, have you in my life. It’s an awfully selfish request, isn’t it?

“Not at all,” you found yourself shaking your head. You wanted all of that from him, too. “It’s not selfish at all.”

“Are you sure-”

You turned towards him with the brightest smile you could muster, even if the words tasted no different to sawdust on your lips. “I want to be your friend, Arthur.” The relief you saw in his expression and demeanour though, was worth it all.

Friends you and him continued to be, even after both of you had returned home. Long-distance communication had never been your strong suit but finding the time to communicate with Arthur was the easiest thing on this planet. Whether they were late night conversations that one of you fell asleep on first, soon followed by the other one (and prompting the awful joke of ‘guess we slept together again’ from Arthur, the one that made you eye-roll too hard) or midday lunchtime video chats, where you each got to vent about your day jobs, Arthur had become an irreplaceable part of your life - and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The crush you had been nursing on him was less like the blooming flower you expected it to be and more like a resilient weed: growing despite your best efforts to neglect or kill it. All your friends had encouraged you to make a move already, but you couldn’t risk what you had for the world. No, some things were easier left unsaid.

...despite thinking you were the bigger person in every relationship, ever, you still found yourself drunk on a whole bottle of vinho verde and a lot of pent-up anger you didn’t know you still had towards Cameron, when he handed you an invite to his and Jenny’s wedding.

“I should, should just…” trailing off, you rubbed your eyes violently, ignoring the gentle chiding from Arthur on the other end of the video call. “I should just go and drink all their wines.”

“While I don’t doubt your ability to do so, I don’t think-”

“And then sit on the cake.”

“Well, no- wait, no.” Had you been less sober, you might’ve noticed that Arthur was trying his best to hold back a laugh, or the look of pure adoration in his eyes. “Why sit on the cake, it’ll just ruin your dress.”

You huffed and went back for the bottle, realising that it was well and truly empty. The look of pure dejection on your face brought forth a chuckle from Arthur.

“[Name], hear me out. You should go, you should definitely go. You said it’s a month from now, correct?” Seemingly amused by your response of a grunt, he continued on. “And, just for clarification, your address is the same one as what I have, right?”

You squinted at him - or, well, more correctly: the camera. “Why do you want my address again?”

“I know you’ll love me for the hangover pizza tomorrow morning.”

The hangover pizza came the next morning and was duly appreciated. What you weren’t expecting, however, was for Arthur himself to show up at your doorstep three and a half weeks later, holding on a garment bag slung over his shoulder and leaning on the extended handle of his suitcase, as he scrolled on his phone.

He greeted you with a dazzling smile, looking up and tilting his head ever so slightly as you stood there and stared at him, dumbfounded. “Hey, love. Hope it’s not too late to change the RSVP on that wedding invite.”

When you continued to (frankly) just stare at him, you noticed the uncertainty in his gaze, the way his stance changed - reminiscent of that one fateful evening in Rome. “...was this a bad idea, coming here? Or is this a bad time? I can leave, that’s not the problem, I mean I don’t think this is a bad place to get an Ub-urk.” The rest of the words cut off, as you threw your arms around him. 

“Thank you,” it was really difficult to not smile, as you pulled back and smiled towards him. “Best surprise of yours, ever.”

He looked back at you wordlessly, but - the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, when he smiled back at you, the way his arms wound their way around your back, as if you were the most precious thing he had held - those were much louder than any words could’ve been.

“Oh heavens, it’s you,” the tone was somehow one of relief and accusation, as both you and Masmune turned around to see Hideyoshi’s now-familiar silhouette at the doorway. “I thought it was Lord Nobunaga again, trying to get to the kon- hey!”

“Aaaaand - here we go!”  Masamune’s words dissolved into laughter as he grabbed your wrist and bolted out the doorway, skirting around Hideyoshi with unprecedented agility. Your resulting shriek of surprise and following complaints were probably enough to wake up half the castle but with the konpeito clutched tightly in one hand and your hand in his other, Masamune tore through the hallways faster than you could’ve ever imagined and you had no choice whatsoever but to keep up.

It wasn’t until he had brought you along to some sort of half-empty storage room that he let go of your hand. As much as you tried to give him your fiercest glare, catching your breath was a much larger priority and amidst pants, you asked him how the hell he knew about this place.

Masamune shrugged, leaning back against the wall and sliding down to settle comfortably on the floor. Perhaps there was some sort of satisfaction in the fact that even a warlord like him seemed to be slightly out of breath, too. And anyway, it was not difficult to mad at your boyfriend when he was grinning up at you and holding out the konpeito, almost as if you meant the world to him.

With a smile of utter resignation, you took the outstretched candy and sat down beside him, making sure your kimono wasn’t to be caught in anything. To imagine that this wild adventure was a result of your sugar craving was both ludicrous and heart-warming. It seemed that your slightly crazy but utterly loveable boyfriend would really do anything for you. A smile touched your lips as you felt the sugar melting on your tongue - who would’ve thought you would miss it so much? It was only after you’d finished a small handful that you realised Masamune was still beside you. Turning around, you found him looking at you with a faint smile, head resting on arms that leaned on knees drawn close to him. You felt your cheeks flaring up in embarrassment, something that Masamune probably saw even in the dim moonlight because a chuckle left his lips as he pinched your cheek closest to him.

“Ow, Ma- bwa- ack!” your cries of protest were only met with laughter from the warlord, as he tugged gently. 

“What’re you getting all shy for?” Even if you couldn’t see Masamune, you could feel him grinning at you. Instead of choosing to reply, you held your palm out, precious few konpeito gathered there, to share with your beloved.

Choosing to forego your peace offering, Masamune leaned forward murmuring something about “better taste” and “your lips” - it was all inconsequential when he pressed his lips up against your own. It would be a lie to say that you weren’t startled but, at the same time, you had learnt to always expect the unexpected with the warlord that kept you on your toes, in the best way possible. As your hands wound their way around his neck, the faint sounds of the konpeito falling to the tatami mat could only serve to amplify the fact that there was no one else around - simply you and him. You could feel the way Masamune’s lips curled into a smile, your embrace a symbol of your acquiescence - but it didn’t matter, because submitting to his touch was your favourite defeat anyway. 

Strong arms pulled you onto your boyfriend’s lap, without breaking the kiss. There was a nagging thought at the back of your mind that perhaps the best place to get intimate was, in fact, not an abandoned storeroom but that’s the strange thing about love - some things matter less when you’re in it. Like the location, the fact that the rest of Azuchi castle was probably very much asleep and that Hideyoshi might find you both at any point. The way his hands wandered down to your loosened obi, undoing it with a certain deftness that you had become used to with Masamune - that mattered so much more. Your kisses trailed down his jawline and up to his ear, where you whispered to him just what you wanted from him.

A roll of your hips in conjunction with your words made a soft groan leave Masamune’s lips, allowing a smile to bloom upon yours. Of course, the lingering threat played at the back of your mind but it didn’t matter, not when you saw the desire flash through your lover’s gaze. Fingers trailing down his chest, you made quick work of the knot holding his hakama in place while Masamune took this opportunity to pepper your exposed skin with nips and kisses, his palm snaking under your open kimono to cup your breast, toying with the nipple and eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

“If…” you paused, momentarily, “if you’re quick, we can get a lot more done back at your place.” The cool breeze you could feel on your exposed shoulders and chest elicited a shiver from you - or was it from the wetness you could feel, as you rolled your hips against those of your boyfriend’s? By now, Masamune had one arm around your waist, holding you close and on his lap, while his other hand moved upwards to tilt your chin down. His finger tracing over your bottom lip, you barely had a moment to react before he used that opportunity to push a long-forgotten konpeito into your mouth. The luxurious way the sugar melted across your tongue, coupled with the way in which your boyfriend’s lips and fingers had you so worked you up felt all too sinful, decadent. “Don’t worry, kitten - as long as you can keep it down, we can do plenty here too.”

Perhaps it was the moment’s distraction but Masamune took this opportunity to lift your hips and guide yourself over him. Without a moment’s hesitation, you slid down, taking in as much of him as  you could, a low groan of satisfaction from Masamune brought a smile to your lips. As you worked your way into finding just the right pace and rhythm, your lover leaned up and takes this opportunity to press another kiss to your lips. This one is more haphazard than the previous ones and you can feel Masamune’s composure slipping like sand through your fingers. Moans and pants from both of you seem to make this space feel hotter than it is and there’s no denying the physical exertion this takes on you - but strangely enough, it adds to the sense of intimacy that is created with heated breaths, fervent touches and the way your hips meet his insistently, feverishly. The remnants of sweetness on your lips and his serves as a reminder of his love for you, you can’t help but cherish konpeito more than before. His fingers coax you faster towards your climax and before you know it, you’re clenching around his length, seeing stars brighter than the Sengoku night sky you can glimpse from the room’s open window. 

Masamune follows soon after you and you break your kiss, choosing to rest your head against the crook of his neck and make a valiant effort to catch your breath. A giggle escapes your lips, before another one follows and he cannot help but join in, delirious exhilaration coursing through both of your veins. The way you can feel his laughter rumble through his chest is, by far, one of your favourite sensations - a feeling that your boyfriend is with you, alive and present - but you do not want to dwell on that now. Not when a konpeito chase has led to storehouse sex. 

“I can’t believe we did that,” you manage to piece together amidst laughter.  “You know I’d do anything to see you smile, lass,” he replies, pressing a clumsy kiss in your hair. There’s affection, love and so much more unwritten between the lines. Sometimes it feels too much to handle - hells, sometimes Masamune feels too much good to handle but right now, he is the luxury of sugar and spice and you have never felt more in love. 

Your hands are bound to the fixture above and out of the way by the very sweater you stole of Satan’s, a very bad idea on hindsight. Unsure of exactly why you let Mammon talk you into ‘disguising’ yourself as Satan in order to sneak out of the House of Lamentations, the plan miserably backfired when it was Satan himself who spotted you mid-escape. He froze on the spot, seeing you wearing the soft green sweater before a soft scoff left his lips and before you knew it, he was dragging you into the depths of the nearest room.

This was not the first time you’d done this; the clandestine love-making had become somewhat of a way of life for you and him over your time at the University. If you were to count, there were only a few rooms within the House that you two had not made out in, probably. Satan’s frenetic and passionate way of making love (if it could even be called that) had made your life in Devildom much, much more enjoyable and knowing that you had, with him, a safe space to explore your sexual proclivities was in and of itself a blessing. A funny word to use with a demon. 

His grip on your hips would most likely leave marks behind but you loved the way they complemented the bites he left all over you, blooming and fading as reminders of his love. And love you he did, but he preferred to show it to you in the way he held you after fucking the living daylights out of you, the way his fingers carded through your hair he had gathered into a fist and yanked at, unrelenting. That particular love and cherishing was not what you wanted right now, though, as his fingers worked both your right nipple in harsh, merciless strokes and pinches while circling your clit, denying you just the pleasure you were seeking. His teeth nipped along your shoulder and at the juncture of where it met your neck, some particularly more harsh than others. Mewls and whimpers spilled out of your lips unbidden, telling Satan how desperate he was making you for the release you so dearly craved. 

“Shh, shh,” his tone was unusually gentle and therein lay its cruelty. His hand slipped up from your breast to your jaw, gripping tightly as his thumb slid along your lower lip, before slipping into your mouth. “You are breaking curfew, I can’t make this too easy.” Without thinking, you suck, swirling your tongue around his thumb. It’s both an act of submission but an act of provocation, reminding him that there’s so much more you could do if it was his cock in your mouth, instead. 

He understands what your challenge implies and you’re deprived of his touch altogether, as he steps back and whispers a harsh command, asking you to turn over. The sweater twists tighter around your wrists, firmer yet but not hurting more than it is to have his fingers not on you. Satan’s chest is heaving ever so noticeably and the outline against his trousers is painfully obvious but the telltale signs of his composure slipping are delectable, you think. 

The way he moves is slow, purposeful as he pulls your trousers down, along with your underwear. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you are, but seeing the smirk toying on his lips and the flicker beneath his gaze, as he eyes the mess that you’ve made, before looking up to meet you sends a shiver down your spine. Never before have you felt this needy, this deprived than when he looked up at you, kneeling. You leant back onto the wall, feeling like your legs may give way any moment.

“Stand. And if you can’t take it, too bad.”

Satan is relentless, as he plunges one finger deep within you, while letting his tongue flick your clit before sucking on it, more gently than expected. The rhythmic pump of his fingers, the sweet stimulation feel both like too much and not enough and you’re raising on the balls of your feet, wishing for more leverage in order to push your hips forward and seize your own please - but he won’t have it, using his other hand to pin your hips to the wall with a ferocious strength.

There’s something innately fiendish about this position; making you have to stand when your knees are about to give way. It is how a demon worships though, as you have learnt. Indulgently, attentively, devotedly, beautifully, maddeningly, intensely. Satan takes his time, coaxing the very moans out of you that he has demanded you keep to yourself and you don’t even realise when he’s slipped a second digit into you. As he disappears between your legs, you can’t help but yearn to run your fingers through the spun gold of his hair, like the sunshine that Devildom never sees. You’re so close, it’s cruel.

But all your thoughts are snatched away from you as Satan pulls away suddenly, withdrawing his fingers from you. A flare of anger ignites within you and you’re about to open your mouth in protest but it’s the way Satan seems to be almost inspecting the way his fingers glisten with your essence. And then he peers up at you, but there is nothing coy about the gaze and neither is there anything shy about the way he licks his fingers clean.

If you didn’t know you were in the depths of Devildom, you’d believe you were about to combust in the fires of Hell itself.

And before you know it, he’s on his feet again; untying the sweater that had confined your hands and wrists. He asks you to keep them up for just a moment longer so that he can slip the sweater back on you and you obediently listen, enjoying the way he gently rubs your arms and draws circles on your wrist with his thumbs, pulling you in closer. The demon who shines brightest in your eyes invites you to his bedroom and while you wished to do unspeakable things with him right there and then, the promise of a bedroom was accompanied by the promise of time. You can’t help but smile back at him, as a mischievous smile plays on his lips.

“But make sure no one sees you this time, okay?”

Like what you just read? Want to see one of our authors tackle a character you love, all while supporting a great cause? Consider commissioning our group @dirtydoesgood​ in our February charity drive, or just spread the word if you can with a reblog!

15. Dangerous but hit.

It irked you, to see Arthur so dressed. So damn dressed, for a game of strip blackjack. He’d only lost his tie and his vest, part of his work uniform that was draped over the back of his chair, now. You took a quick glance around the room - his living room - and found it to be ridiculously tasteful. What could the fucker not get right? Looking back towards him, you were faced with that infuriating smile of his, somehow salvation and damnation at once. The suggestive way he trailed his index finger along his hole card both aroused and aggravated you. There were better places those hands could be but you would be damned if you’d let him-

22. Bust.

Arthur grinned, flipping over his hole card and you could only look on in barely-concealed fury, as you saw a face card, paired with a 7. You closed your eyes and taking a deep breath, reached behind you to unclasp your bra, while going over the particular series of events that got you to be playing strip blackjack at the apartment of the coworker you despised the most.

Most days, working at a casino was your favourite job till date - the tips were great, the hours suited you, the pay was competitive You got the best work shifts, the best tips and they even covered a hefty percentage of your personal grooming costs. All in all, the sweetest deal available.

You had an uncanny instinct of being able to understand people’s gambling instincts. Perhaps the years of people watching through commute worked to your benefit - or the preternatural sense of picking out how a person approached risk through their body language and speech patterns aided you. Regardless, that and your mastered poker face had meant that the casino had quickly promoted you through the ranks and given you the covetous position as the casino’s best blackjack dealer.

And yet...all of that was being threatened by Arthur Conan Doyle. And you were seeing red.

Just where did he show up from, anyway? As you’d seen him rise up the ranks, from a nobody to a competitive threat, you felt your antagonism grow towards the man with the imperceptible sapphire gaze and the facetious smile, ever-ready on his lips. Perhaps you would’ve been less mad at him had he not been the shallow flirt he was - how on earth did he manage to get away with so much at the poker tables? If you’d been any more of a tattletale, you would’ve brought up his unprofessional behaviour to management who, admitted, would’ve just looked the other way because somehow - just somehow - the bastard just happened to have a head for numbers like no other. That fucker. 

Perhaps you would’ve been less bitter about him had you not found him attractive - and had he not flirted with you like he flirted with every other woman in his vicinity. Frankly, it was a tad bit demeaning - you saw right through his impertinent words and unsubtle glances - so why did he even bother? Arthur was no idiot - and yet he treated you just the same as others. Your ego was bruised and battered around him and it just wouldn’t do. The tension contributing to the rivalry continued, as did his incessant flirting. When buzz got around of the usual pub crew foregoing their Saturday night gathering to go to Arthur’s housewarming party, you couldn’t help but scoff.

“Oh, make me,” you retorted sharply, when your coworker told you about the party. “There’s no way he can make me step into his place.”

“Aw, come on. It’s not so bad,” came Arthur’s response to a comment not directed at him. You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. Slamming your locker shut, you walked out of the staff room, heels clicking as furiously as your emotions towards a certain charming asshole you could hear laughing.

And yet, when Saturday came around, you found yourself standing in front of his door with the first houseplant you managed to scourge on your way here. Perhaps you wanted to be the better person or maybe you didn’t want to be left out - either way, the plan was to get in there early, participate in social niceties and then just get the hell out of there. With a firm nod, assenting to your own plans, you rung the doorbell, only to see Arthur standing behind the door, still in his work uniform.

A few moments passed, with you two just blinking owlishly at each other, before realisation dawned on his features. “You...thought the party was today.” “Is it not?” Arthur shook his head, leaning against his door frame and crossing his arms. “It’s on Sunday, love. Maybe if you got the invite off me, rather than relying on hearsay-” “Well, anyway,” before he could get in another word, you shoved the suspect-looking fern into his hands. “Nice place, don’t kill the fern. See ya.”

You heard footsteps following you as you left and he skidded to a halt beside the elevator, as you pressed the ‘down’ button. “Hey, hey - can I invite you in for a drink, or something?” “I’m a teetotaller.” “I got tea.” “I hate tea.” “Coffee?” “What, and stay up all night?” When he didn’t respond, you turned towards him to find Arthur trying his best to not laugh in your face. “What?”

“Seriously, no ill intentions. I just don’t want to be that uncivilized git. At least let me get you some water.” “No, you don’t need to, really.” “Also, I don’t want you to hate me. We don’t need to be rivals.” His words made you halt, a small noise of question escaping the back of your throat. He looked back at you, earnestly and you were beginning to wonder if this was how peace was to be made. “You and I both know I’m the best dealer the casino’s ever seen, anyway.”  “Okay, that’s it,” taking a step forward, you yanked him to your eye level by his tie. “I’ve fucking had enough. In. Now. I will make you regret ever being born, Arthur Conan Doyle.”

Having said that, you had all the regrets right now. Arthur had beaten you, fair and square, and you were the one embarrassingly naked and turned-on in his armchair, save for your (quite negligible) lace briefs. You had been sitting there, arms and legs crossed, for God knows how long, salvaging the last scraps of your dignity while Arthur took his own sweet time, shuffling the cards and whistling while making a show of not looking towards you. Somehow countering your good sense, it ticked you off to have him blatantly ignore you.  “What’s your game, Arthur?” “Game? Me?” he finally looked up, azure gaze meeting your squarely. “I’m just trying to be a respectful lad.”  A humourless chuckle left your lips. “Chivalry’s not exactly one of your redeeming qualities.” “Oh aye, sure. I just didn’t want to mess up my chances with you.”

You weren’t sure if you heard right or whether the embarrassment was making you feel delirious. An inarticulate ‘what’ left your lips as you leaned forward, arms firmly crossed. Arthur leaned back, on reflex, his replies no more than hums and haws and it was then that you noticed the way he kept on playing with the cards. A nervous habit. “Arthur, give me a straight response,” you tried to keep your voice as even as possible.  “Er, well…” he ran his free hand through his hair. “Seems like I’ve gotten myself into a fine corner.” The more nervous he got, the more his brogue showed. On hindsight, the change in mood was far too sudden but there’s only so much a woman can do when the man she’s been hate-crushing on turns out to a bashful schoolboy in front of her. Your annoyance soon turned into thinly-veiled amusement and you cleared your throat, in order to get his attention mid-ramble. 

“Shirt, off.” “And so I- eh?” “You shirt’s gonna get in the way, take it off?” “Are you alright?” He raised his hand, about to check your temperature but being reminded once again of your state of undress, he promptly pulled his hand back again. “I’m quite fine,” you rolled your eyes but this time, playfully. “Would be much better if you’d let me ride your dick, though.”

There was no way in hell you missed the blush violently creeping down his neck and it somehow delighted you, even more. How could this shameless flirt still be holding out on you? You could feel your heart beating erratically and maybe there was a slight flush dusting your cheeks but you tried your best to be confident and leaned backwards on the (admittedly, very comfortable) armchair and trying your best to sound every inch the siren your underwear set should’ve allowed for you to, as you asked him to kiss you.

The next few moments were nothing more than a blur, as his lips crashed into yours. Perhaps the power move (it was a power move, in your books) had sparked something in him, like it sparked in you. If the way you felt like your mind was blanking and your knees weakening, as he snaked his arm around you waist and held you tightly, was any indicator, he was definitely a lot more affected than you even thought. You could feel him subtly pressing his pelvis against yours, making you moan into the kiss as your hands tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Bedroom,” he murmured, between kisses. “It’s the least you deserve.” He hoisted you up with relative ease and as you curled your legs around him, you noticed that perhaps, if this were an hour ago or so, you may have been mad that Arthur Doyle had yet another attractive quality about him, his strength; you weren’t vexed that his honeyed words made your heart skip a beat. No longer the case, you had very much made peace with your attraction with him (for the most part). Both of you almost seemed reluctant to break the kiss but as he sat you on his bed, you took this opportunity to let your hands travel down his torso, feeling the well-defined ridges beneath your fingertips. 

“You’re overdressed, Arthur,” with a gentle nudge against his chest, you pushed him backwards with a ‘tch’. “Want a show, do you?” A smirk which you would’ve found infuriating at the best of times only spurred you on now and you smiled back in response. “Alright, I’m not complaining,” you leaned back, resting on your elbows. And a show it rightfully was! Arthur took his time unbuttoning his shirt and you took all the time given to you to unashamedly check him out. It was your well-earned reward, for even winning the two games of blackjack you did against him. Your fingers twitched, almost involuntarily, as you resisted reaching out and pulling him back to the bed that very instant. 

When he unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers, though, the sheer size of him silhouetted against his boxers almost made you do a double-take. Where had he been hiding that? “Oh God,” you groaned, letting your head fall backwards onto the pillow. “Your dick really does match your personality.” “Is…-,” Arthur paused for a moment, unsure of what to make of your comment. “Is that a good thing?”  You sighed, trying your best to keep your grin at bay. “Only guys with dicks that big can be as annoying as you are. Now, hurry up, please.” “Oh, shut it,” Arthur chuckled, as he knelt over you, kissing you as his hands skirted up your sides, coming up to palm your breasts, running his thumb across your sensitive nipples. “Mm, make me,”  your words dissolved into a moan, as his kisses trailed down your neck, some nips a little more insistent than others.

Before you know it, you’ve given him full access with your legs spread and he presses soft kisses along the inside of your thighs, murmuring something about being so amazed at how wet you already are. You’re biting back your reply about it being damn time - and thankfully so, because when he slips a finger into you, it’s more blissful relief than you can expect. 

“Shit, you’re this wet for me, huh?” Arthur’s words contain thinly-veiled lust and perhaps you would’ve been more self-conscious of the way his eyes drank you in, but as he slipped in a second finger and deftly used his thumb to circle your clit, all notions of protest died on your lips and were instead replaced by moans and pleas for more. “You feel so tight, love,” his words come through gritted teeth. “Would feel fuller with your cock in me,” your words are breathless, whiny but they still have the desired effect on Arthur, as he falters in the rhythmic way his fingers move. “Need you in me, please.”

And judging by the speed at which he withdraws his fingers and is putting on the condom he’s gotten from his bedside table, you’d think you were the one who won the game. Well, in a way, you were definitely winning right now. Biting your lip as you toyed with your own nipples, you tried to be discreet as you glanced at his impressive length & girth and coupled with his eagerness to please you - this was definitely what they called a ‘jackpot’, in casino talk. 

And as he crawled back over you, kissing wherever he could reach, you told him that you’ll give him the best blowjob he’s ever had, next time. He laughs when he replies to you.“Just as well. Don’t know if I would’ve lasted at all, with your mouth on me.” You note the weirdly comfortable sense of intimacy you feel with him, how even within a haphazard moment of passion, there’s still an unexpected sense of comfort with Arthur, like how he moves slowly and you can feel every inch of him, or how he says your name with a shaky breath. 

He starts off slow, but as he’s getting faster, hips more insistent, you’re wrapping your arms tighter around him and pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck, shoulders - wherever you can. Arthur tells you how pretty you look, how sexy you sound. “Fucking hell,” his voice is shaking from laughter or the furious way he’s pumping into you, fingers toying with your clit. “Don’t care if the neighbours hear you, anyone, for that matter.”  “They should know how good you are at this,” you manage to piece together between moans and whimpers. He’s set a furious pace and you can feel him losing his rhythm; he’s close, like you.

And when you come, clenching around him, he lets out a groan and buries his face into the crook of your neck. In response, you press your body closer to him. He releases into you soon after, feverishly still praising you and you felt far too happy for your ego to admit aloud that he called your bluff. Both of you lay there for a bit before he disposes of his soiled condom and gets you a towel. The sense of intimacy increases manifold when you realise he’s slipped under the covers, gently tugging on it as if to tell you that you should join him. You do, only to have him pull you closer to him and wrap his arms around you. Close, in the best way possible.

“I have to get my clothes,” you mumble, snuggling up to him. “They’re still out front.” “Later,” he presses a kiss to your head and sounds a little drowsy. “Plus, you owe me ‘the best blowjob of my life’, if I recall.”  “Oh, shut up,” your laugh sounds suspiciously like a giggle as you lightly slap his chest. “S’truth, lass. You said it a bit ago, if you can’t recall. I’m going to hold you to it - we can make a bet of it, if that’s how you like it.”

But you pretended to be asleep, finding that the best way to avoid responding to another bet with the man that you could never win against.

“Now”, your insistent tone caught the attention of the poor soul stuck beside you. “Dear Reader...you may be wondering ‘am I in love with my roommate’...are you?” The scene unfurling before his eyes was nothing less of a late night television skit, just less humorous and more...bizarre, for lack of a better term. Theo saw you narrowing your eyes at the man beside you, who seemed to be nodding. Your firm nod in response, you continued speaking. “Well, I am - but the thing is, he’s like, way out of my league. Like, way, way out. Absolute top shelf material, not like this drink. You’re out of his league, too, by the way - don’t even think about it.” Polishing off the rest of your drink with a single swig, you slammed your glass down on the countertop a bit too loud for everyone - including yourself, judging by the slight jump of your shoulders. ‘Silly girl,’ Theo thought to himself, trying his best to not actually smile because of it.

“Anyway, so I am very clearly out of your league, dude. But he...oh my God, he’s way out of our league. Is it ‘league’? Or ‘leagues’? I mean, we’re not in the same league - did I tell you that?” Theo heard the man mumbling, as he made his way towards the both of you. You were right on that account, though - you were definitely out of his league.

Placing a bill on the counter with a firm slap, he slung your arm across his shoulder as he used his other hand to steady your waist. You yelped when you felt someone hoisting you up so suddenly but when you turned around to come face-to-face with the chiselled jaw that you had become so familiar with, an involuntary smile appeared on your lips and you murmured “hey Theo” before remembering absolutely nothing more of that night whatsoever. 

When you wake up the next morning, there’s your regular hangover cure on your bedside table: ibuprofen & water. A moment’s joy crosses your heart, as you know just who left these out for you, before you realise the underwire of your bra has been digging into you for God knows how long. You’re still dressed in what you wore last night and a quick glance at the mirror confirms that your makeup wasn’t removed, either. Well, perhaps it was for the better that you weren’t too comfortable with your roommate like that.

Yawning, you walked into the kitchen and the comforting smell of pancakes greeted you. Squinting, it seemed like Theo was getting ready to head out if his habit of leaving his (already read) newspaper folded up neatly in the recycling bin was any indicator. The man himself in question stood at the kitchen sink, washing his dishes.

“Morning,” you do your best to stifle another yawn. “What’s on the menu, chef?” “For you, nothing.” Theo never wastes a moment when it comes to retorts but when you look towards him with a slight frown and a pout, you can see a tell-tale grin hiding beneath the surface, the corners of his lips quirking upwards. He looks back at you and you only pout more exaggeratedly and before he knows it, Theo’s got an exasperated laugh in reply to you. Truly, he’s no match for you, he thinks. “Check the other side of the table.” Reaching forward, your eyes sparkle in delight when you see a warm stack of pancakes and you let out a tiny squee, as you pull the plate towards you with both hands. “You’re my favourite roommate, Theo, did you know?” “I’m your only roommate, actually.” “Right, but you’re still my favourite. I feel like it’s my duty to let you know.” Theo rolled his eyes as a manner of response. “Don’t let others hear you like this, they might actually think you’re always this nice.” “I’m always nice,” you retorted, through mouthfuls of carb heaven. “You’re hungover.” “Yeah,” a soft smile graced your lips, as you watched him complete the last steps of his morning ritual, one you were so used to. Shoes: put on. Jacket: worn. Backpack: slung on. Final check in the mirror: complete. “Yeah, I am.”

It seems utterly silly to have a crush on your roommate (and the epitome of human perfection) but the heart does what it wants. You reckon you’ve done a good job of keeping it under wraps but sometimes the veneer of control slips and that’s when you’re most thankful of how indulgent Theo really is of your whims, your fancies - well, you, really. You’re snatched out of your reverie, though, when Theo calls your name from the door and you stop mid-chew to actually look at him (as opposed to the dreamy-eyed gazing you probably had been doing moments earlier. Thank fuck his back was towards you).  “We should grab dinner tonight,” he turns back towards you and gives you a smile worth its weight in gold. For a moment you’re rendered speechless, not sure if you were even worthy to be blessed with such a sight. Or maybe it’s the hungover brain of yours, lying to you. 

Before you can give him a coherent reply, though, he’s gone.

And you’re still left wondering if it was a fever dream or if Theo really asked you to get dinner with him. It wasn’t uncommon - when both of you worked late nights, you both would decide to just order in or one of you would get takeout for two. On rare occasions, when both of you were still out in town, you would meet up for dinner before heading home. Realistically, it wouldn’t mean anything more than the latter but there was a niggling feeling at the back of your mind that you’d...done something astounding last night. Your one-sided crush had been on your mind all night, even before you decided to go with him to the local pub’s trivia night and as more and more alcohol entered your system, you felt your inhibitions loosening. 

There was nothing different about the way Theo acted today, kindness and good-natured snide came hand-in-hand with him, after all. However, there was a hazy memory at the back of your mind and it only fuelled the precognition fuelling inside of you. Maybe it would be better to call off the dinner, pretend that you’re sick and take off from work early. That way, you wouldn’t have to-

[From Theo; 12:15pm: (location address)] [From Theo; 12:15pm: How about here? Is 7:00PM a good time?]

That gorgeous bastard’s timing was impeccable. You glanced at your phone for a few moments, before picking it up and typing out a quick reply. 

[From You; 12:16pm: Yeah, let me check the menu] [From Theo; 12:16pm: No worries. I got a reservation anyway. If you want something else, we can change.] [From You; 12:16pm: RESERVATION??? Wow I cannot be bound by the confines of space-time like that.] [From Theo; 12:18pm: You’ll be missing out on what the NYT calls ‘the best tapas deal in town’.] [From You; 12:18pm: I’m looking at the menu] [From You; 12:18pm: Christ] [From You; 12:18pm: I’ll be there. I’ll be there early, ok?] [From You; 12:18pm: Everything sounds so good wtf?]

Theo tried his best to hide his smile, as he discreetly slid his phone under a folder by his laptop. Perhaps he had missed what was being said at the company’s annual meeting and maybe he has the vaguest clue on their five year plan, but he does have a date, so it works out in the end. When you show up to the restaurant, every single plan that Theo’s ever made for this evening is flung out the window. Seeing you here is not unlike seeing you back at home; you’re still returning back home after a workday but falling in love isn’t always fireworks and a-ha moments. Sometimes, it’s just how the little things add up and Theo’s never been more sure of his love for you. 

However, a drunk confession means nothing much, in the end - but if anyone can make something out of it, it’s Theodorus van Gogh.

During dinner, you feel that there’s something different about Theo’s demeanour. Perhaps it was the extra compliment he’d thrown your way, or the way you felt like he was being more charming than usual. Theo was all charm and manners when he was working (you’d seen glimpses of his professional demeanour). That was not to say that he was the opposite off-duty but it was just as much part of his personality as the brusque, kind-hearted man who was always ready with a retort you’d ended up living with. Vague ghosts of the night past kept you away from the alcohol but Theo seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his meal. Perhaps you had no reason to be this suspicious.

“So…” You almost missed Theo’s voice, as you reached over to get a croquette for yourself. “What was this thing about you and me not being in the same league?” The piece of croquette that you had just bit into gets caught in your windpipe and you’re grasping for your glass of water as you try to not choke to your demise at the New York Times’ tapas restaurant of choice. The warmth of wine rushes down your throat and you’re almost about to almost do a spit-take as you realise it’s Theo’s glass you’ve grabbed. 

Swallowing, you mustered your best glare towards the man opposite you as you discreetly wiped your mouth with your napkin. “What...what are you on about?” “Just a question, only wondering.” The effortless ease which you had mistaken for charm seemed to almost be weaponised against you, as Theo leaned forward with what could be described as none other than a smug grin. “But you know, you weren’t wrong when you said you were out of his league. You definitely are. Also, aren’t you too old to be going for things like indirect kisses?” The last of his words barely concealed the laughter in his voice, as he picked the almost-empty wine glass from your hands and you could only look on, all too aware of the blush creeping up your cheeks. The worst thing was, it wasn’t even his words as much as it was...well, him. 

Perhaps you had one reason to be suspicious. 

Maybe the wine acted as a memory reset, or state-dependent memory is truly more effective than you assumed because the events of the night before were as vivid as if they were preserved on celluloid, in your mind: the trivia night, the we-didn’t-deserve-second-place drinking (while your roommate stayed immaculately sober), said roommate went to get his car, random man at the bar hit on you, the ‘out of my league’ talk followed. You had thought that Theo was not there but clearly your alcohol-enhanced situational awareness had made the best of the situation. At this very point, if you could just allow the world to swallow you whole, it would be for the best. Your mortification seemed to only fuel your crush’s mirth, as your telling expression seemed to amuse him no end. 

“God, you’re insufferable,” you muttered, before busying yourself with another mouthful of...whatever you found in front of you. “That’s not what you said last night.” “Stop making this sound worse than it already is!” “Worse? I actually thought we had a pretty cute date going on.” “A date?” Your voice was much louder than intended, getting unwanted stares and glares from those around you. You settled back into your seat with a huff. “You said nothing about this being a date, Theo.” For a moment, perhaps a flicker of something uncharacteristic passed across Theo’s expression but not before he nursed it back to the picture of confidence he always seemed to be. “Do you not want it to be?” There was no way you missed the clipped edge of his tone but that’s not what you were focused on, right now. “I look like shit, why would I want to come out on a date like this?” you whispered to yourself, more than anything. Theo’s lack of response made you look back up at him, only to find him looking at you with the most incredulous expression. “Dates, they’re...they’re a mindset thing, Theo. Like, you gotta be in the right frame of mind, and shit like that! You can’t just say it out of the blue!” Theo scoffed, crossing his arms and you’d be damned if you even admitted to yourself that it somehow made him look even better. “I’ve seen you in worse states, [Name]. What sort of an excuse is that?” Too late to be saved from that damnation, though.

“It’s not an excuse, you jerk,” you muttered in response. “I just would’ve...wanted to put in more effort if I knew what this was about.” “I like you the way you are, though-” Theo’s words mingled with an involuntary sigh that left his lips. You did not hesitate to counter him, at all. “Theodorus van Gogh, this isn’t about yo- wait, what?” “I mean - what I mean to say is,” Theo paused, as if trying to find the best way to put forth his thoughts. “With us having lived together for so long, you don’t have to go out of your way, or anything, for me. You’re fine however you are - does that make sense?” “Yeah,” you nodded. Sure, it sounded unreal, hearing your demigod-tier roommate and crush tell you these things. Maybe saying anything else would shatter the dream. “Yeah, sure. Makes sense. Yep.”

The awkward, momentary silence that followed was shattered by your cell phone ringing and you clambered to pick it up. Theo looked on, watching your expression go from concentration to concern to absolutely devoid of colour. When you hung up, he peered closer and asked if everything was fine.

“I…,” you groaned out of exasperation. “I was trying to set up a process update push notification for our clients at work and...apparently I forgot to turn it off before I left. Boss just told me it’s been sending all our clients various Spongebob memes via email every 20 minutes, I’m so...gah!” Wordlessly, you leant forward and let your forehead touch the table with a soft ‘thud’. “Theo, end me now. I cannot take any more this evening.” “Do you need to go back to work? Want a ride?”It was hard to find his response of laughter as anything but the very sound of the heavens. Love was a funny thing, you thought for a moment. Even if he made fun of you over this for the foreseeable future, Theo would always be there for you; that’s just the sort of person you’d fallen in love with.  “No, it’s fine, I’ll get there,” your response was quick, as you struggled to put on your jacket and find your handbag at the same time. When you looked back up from under the table, you found Theo standing there, holding out your handbag to you. Taking it with a smile and what you hoped was genuine affection conveyed through it, you met his azure gaze; the unfathomable depths you had fallen deeply into. “Get yourself home and the check, if you can. I’ll pay you back when I get home, too.” “Nonsense,” his lips pressed to your forehead softly, reassuringly. Coupled with the way he looked at you, full of endearment, made your heart skip several beats. This was a side of Theo that you had never been able to pin down before, you did not know how to respond appropriately. “My date, my check. See you at home.”

Your heart still felt like it was ready to hammer out of your chest, as you rode the subway back home from work. There was no doubt that something had changed between Theo and yourself tonight but to be able to pinpoint it seemed both simple and arduous at once. How would this change translate, in terms of your living conditions? What if Theo didn’t want to act upon it? All of your anxiousness felt misplaced in the end, when you returned to your roommate / crush / hopeful boyfriend evidently on the losing side of a battle with his sleep, the TV was nothing more than background noise. It was sweet of him to try and stay up for you and your Spongebob gaffe, you had to take a moment to smile at the sight in front of you.

In a way, nothing had changed between you two but as the days went by, things gradually began to change. Starting with minute public gestures of affection, so quick and fleeting, then explicit date nights (Theo made sure to let you know well ahead of time - sometimes, just to mess with you, he would send you calendar invites too) and finally culminating with going places together. You still, sometimes, laugh to yourself thinking back on how diametrically opposite his friends (“wait, wait - you didn’t make the first move?”) and yours (“girl, I don’t know how anyone could live with him and not want to ride-” “okay, that’s enough”) were! Few weeks down the line and somehow, you couldn’t imagine the transition being any smoother. 

There was...one thing that bothered you, ever so slightly - as funny as the ‘my place, or yours?’ jokes were, nothing had actually changed in living arrangements between you two. Right, you and Theo were a couple in all respects but when it came to spending the night together, it had the feeling like trying to hook up with your college boyfriend. Which is, to say - not ideal. Realistically, this should not have been a problem but, at this point, it was still a lingering thought at the back of your mind; even when you were unlocking the door to your shared apartment.

The last thing you expected was to see Theo standing in the kitchen, holding more packing material than he could possibly wrap his arms around, which he dumped onto the floor when you opened the door. Both of you stared at each other for a moment, before you managed to put out a slightly-strangled “hey, what’s up”. “Yeah...hey, weren’t you working late today?” Theo asked, only adding to the awkwardness that you were feeling right now.  “Got lucky. Do you need a hand?” “A hand?” “You’re...sorting the recycling, right?” “Oh,” Theo looked down at the pile of packing material at his feet. “Yeah, I could do with some help, but not right now. You should just relax.”

You stepped closer to him, peering over at the pile by his feet. “Christ, what on earth have you been shopping for?” “A bed.”  Theo’s response was so spontaneous and you whirled you head towards him. “What was wrong with the old one?” “Nothing was wrong with it. I just wanted a bigger one.” Your boyfriend narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, crossing his arms. “You watched that documentary on bed bugs, didn’t you?” You looked away, the feeling of overindulged curiosity heavy in your heart. “I know you said it was bad - but to be honest, I may have one new fear.” “I thought I told you it was awful - that’s much worse than bad,” Theo muttered, as he pulled you in for a hug. You could hear the smile in his voice, as you snuggled in closer and wrapped your arms around him in response. “I’m a sucker for the awful, I suppose. I’m with you, aren’t I?” Your tease only earned an eye roll from him.  “And here I was, thinking about asking you to move into my room.”

You froze for a moment, before pulling back and peering into his eyes, searching for a hint of a joke but Theo only looked back at you with the fondness that you knew was a sign of his affection for you. “You’re...not joking, right?” “I’m not like you, [Name]. My jokes are actually funny,” he grinned, pulling you in closer. “I just figured that - if you wanted - we could use my room as the master, like it was meant to be and we can use yours for whatever you want.” Your smile growing, you reach up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips, evidently taking him off-guard enough for him to delay in kissing you back. When you pull back, there’s a more-than-faint blush dusting Theo’s cheeks, and it only makes your smile grow wider. “Thank you, Theo.” “‘S’no big deal.” The way his blush creeped down his neck was testimonial to his embarrassment and you found it utterly endearing. “It had to be done sometime, anyway” Smirking, you reached up to kiss him again, quick pecks to punctuate your words. “You’re cute, I love you.”  “Yeah, I know, I-” he ran his hand through his hair, looking down at you with a wry smile. “You’re getting real cheeky with your compliments, aren’t you?”

Completely bypassing the embarrassment that he was positively radiating (sometimes, it was absolutely delightful to have the upper hand on Theo), you replied in your cheeriest voice. “So, is the bed ready?” “Well, not quite. I haven’t finished fixing the frame yet - I’ll have it done in a bit.” “Come on, I’ll give you a hand.” Theo shook his head. “No way, you rest up. If you’d come back later, I would’ve had it ready by then.” “But, I want to test the new bed.” Doing your best to feign innocence and not burst out laughing, you glanced up at him. “I can help out however, tighten a nut or-” “Okay, okay, I get it,” Theo’s expression was stuck somewhere between a grimace and pained laughter. A chuckle followed the kiss he pressed to your lips. “I’ll let you help me out - no more pun threats, please.” Grinning, you jokingly nudged his jawline with your fist, in a mock punch. “Smartass.” “That’s right, I love you too.”

And the next morning, as you woke up in his arms more satisfied than you had ever felt, you had to conclude that the bed was worth every cent of Theo’s investment.

He isn’t sure if the feeling is mutual, however - sure, you kissed him 21 days and 20 hours ago, (give or take a few hours) and it was probably the highlight of this academic year, somehow eclipsing the fact that he won a coveted grant and simultaneously avoided having to prepare the paperwork for another one. The head of the department, Professor Uesugi, wasn’t happy but then again, Sasuke pulled out the ‘we all have 24 hours in our day and there’s only so much I can do without sleep, Professor Uesugi’ card most effectively. He also broke this news to Uesugi during a faculty happy hour, where his mentor is, unsurprisingly, at his happiest.

Either way, it was at that same happy hour that you kissed him and sure you were drunk and he was buzzed but he still felt like it’d meant something. Mixing business with pleasure isn’t something he usually does but when he was given the opportunity to have an astrophotography course with a fine arts grad student, the last thing on his mind was how he’d fall for you. Hard.

Sasuke Sarutobi wasn’t one to care much for fighting fate; it was vast and incomprehensible, much like the cosmos. And yet, as he thought back to the time your lips pressed against his, urgent and incredibly feverish, he knew he couldn’t fight what the fates had in store for him, in regards to you: an impossibly vast amount of affection, attraction and everything in between. It could be love, he wasn’t willing to discount that possibility but according to the results of the branch & bound algorithm he tried to run in order to get a success probability, it wasn’t too high. Also, it was probably the wrong type of algorithm to run. He would have to find a more suitable model for a more meaningful analysis.

Numbers and feasibility solutions aren’t on his mind, though, when he sees the way you’re almost falling off the bar stool and the way your excited gestures endanger the people sitting next to you; namely himself and Yukimura Sanada on your other side. Yukimura leans forward, desperately making eye contact with Sasuke. “Yo, Sasuke...they’re…” he trails off, glancing at you but then just looks back towards Sasuke with a mix of panic and insistence. Yukimura’s always been wary of drunk people in bars sitting next to him, harking back to an incident from their undergrad years. Sasuke remembers and with a businesslike nod towards his (self-determined) BFF, he’s slipping his arms around your shoulders and making you turn towards him. 

Calling your name, a slight frown mars Sasuke’s expression as he pauses. It’s the first time he notices the dark circles under your eyes, along with their puffiness. A tell-tale sign that you’ve been foregoing sleep. “Is...is everything fine?” “Of course,” you smile back at him, as brightly as you can. “Why wouldn’t it be?”  Sasuke pauses for a moment, before leaning back. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

As much as you try to keep it together around Sasuke, it seems impossible. You’re a little antsy on your trip back, mostly keeping your distance from him as you’re at the back of your rideshare. You’re picking at the edges of your shirt and the words blurt out of your mouth before you even register what they mean and what they imply.

“I’m not a kid, Sasuke. You don’t always have to be watching out for me.” It’s difficult to keep your cool or your maturity around someone like Sasuke, whose stoic nature is the epitome of both. And it’s true, sometimes you feel childish around him but perhaps those are your insecurities brewing with your growing crush on him. You enjoy Sasuke’s attention towards you, even going so far as to kiss him a few weeks ago, but nothing changes with him. He’s still Sasuke - the reliable, funny, supportive and perfect fellow course instructor. The futility of it all frustrates you, slightly and now you’ve gone and said another childish thing. Great, you tell yourself.

“I know,” comes the response, after a few moments and when you look up at Sasuke, you can feel your heart beating in your chest, wildly, erratically. There’s a slight smile on his lips and that’s when you know it’s hopeless, you’ve already fallen for him.

Sasuke never responds to you with anything but kindness and understanding. Perhaps that is why you make the ludicrous suggestion, “sleep with me.” A flicker of...something passes across Sasuke’s expression, which makes your pounding heartbeat even louder (as if it were even possible?). Perhaps your heart stops altogether when his hands gently cradle your face, tilting it slightly upwards so that he can press a gentle kiss to your forehead.His next words shatter the haze you feel your brain’s lost in.

“You’ll regret this tomorrow, [Name].”

There were quite a few things you regretted the next morning (namely the two final tequila shots) but as the events of the previous night came back to you slowly, you’re scrambling for your phone and you’re calling Sasuke. It’s 5:17am and you confess to him, unable to bear keeping the crush a secret any longer. Consequences be damned. Sasuke tells you that he really appreciates what you’re saying but he’s not sure if it’s reality or a very, very vivid dream. He asks you to ring back when it’s 7:20am, he’ll definitely be awake by then. You check the time on your phone and sheepishly apologise to him for calling at ass o’clock. There’s a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a sigh and Sasuke muttering “why are you so cute, even in my dreams?”

. . .

Sometimes, it seems like a miracle that brought Sasuke and you together. Looking back at the hoops that both of you had to jump through and the hurdles you both stumbled over, entirely created by mutual pining and unsaid things, you’re very thankful to be celebrating one year of dating. You can’t help but reminisce at the clumsy way you asked him to sleep with you first and your even clumsier phone confession. You’re thinking back of the first date you both went on and how you both ended up back in his apartment with you on your knees and him soon spilling down your throat. The one time where Sasuke made you come in the back of his car, right outside a party you both had attended burns in your mind, your fingers toying with the waistband of of your PJ bottoms. 

Sasuke was meant to have returned hours ago but was instead stuck in an airport mere hours away, delayed while returning from a conference and effectively ruining the Valentine's Day plans you had created for the both of you. This was to be the first one you two were spending together and you were really looking forward to setting up a late night picnic and maybe a little something to rival that of the car sex that had happened after that one party. Sasuke’s, er, sense of adventure was something that you really liked about him, amidst other things. And now that you were thinking of him, you were indeed missing him.

You [5:47pm]: [image875.jpg] You decided to send him a picture of the picnic basket you had prepared for your date.. You [5:48pm]: Look at what you’re missing Sasuke [5:48pm]: Don’t remind me. Airport food is bland and overpriced. You [5:48pm]: “[Name], I miss you.” “Yeah Sasuke, I miss you too.” You [5:48pm]: Smh why do I have to provide enough romance for both of us today?

There’s no reply for a few moments but a notification ‘ping’ gets your attention soon enough. Sasuke [5:52pm]: I’m always missing you when you’re not around. Promise to make it up to you, though. Sasuke [5:52pm]: Sorry Sasuke [5:52pm]: Was trying to find a meme to send you, but I found this instead:  Sasuke [5:53pm]: [video97.jpg]

Sasuke’s last message made you gasp and sit up incredibly quickly and if you had anything in your mouth, you would’ve probably died choking by now. The clip is short but brings back a lot of memories. You’re naked on your elbows and knees as Sasuke fucks you from behind, the mirror and his phone witness to a few minutes of you two’s carnal pleasure. You vaguely remember a few more clips from that night but also that being one of the top 5 lovemaking sessions you and your boyfriend had ever had. A blush rises to your cheeks and a different type of warmth begins to pool elsewhere, as you furiously text him back.

You [5:54pm]: SASUKE You [5:54pm]: YOU’RE AT THE AIRPORT You [5:55pm]: WHAT IF SOMEONE SEEES? You [5:55pm]: *SEES Sasuke [5:55pm]: I’m at the bar here. Everyone’s too drunk or busy to be looking at anyone else’s phone. Sasuke [5:55pm]: Maybe I’m a little bit drunk, too. Sasuke [5:55pm]: But I miss you, in more ways than you can think. Your mouth’s magic.

You can say the same of him. Of everyone you’ve been with before, no one compares to Sasuke in the bedroom - and definitely no comparison when it comes to down to making you come just with his mouth and his fingers. The single-minded focus and devotion that Sasuke shows in every part of life is also reflected in the way he makes love and there’s a certain throb between your legs, as your fingers slip past the layers of clothing, collecting some of the wetness that has begun to gather. 

It feels wrong, in a way, since it should be Sasuke here with you; both of you satisfying each other again. And again. And again. But all you have right now are searing memories and your fingers, as two slip into you and out, steadily building up a rhythm. You think that if it were Sasuke here, he would’ve taken his time with you, slowly kissing up your thighs, leaving small bites in the wake. His fingers would be so much more satisfying, make you feel so much more full. A moan floats past your lips as you think of how Sasuke loves to make you come undone by letting you know how good you taste. It’s the thing that tips you over the edge, more often than not; the way he looks up at you, lips glistening and eyes adoring. 

As your fingers pump and curl into you, whimpers and pants leave your lips as you chase your finish. You want Sasuke so badly, nothing you have on hand feels enough. His cock is so much more satisfying, filling you so much more deliciously. He’d let you ride him, but his relentless thrusts would have you grappling against his shoulders, the headboard - anything you can get your hands on. Your thumb works your clit fiercely and with a cry, you’re falling deeper and deeper as waves of pleasure crash over you. 

Your fingers are slick and glistening against the dimming light that seems to seep in, despite the curtains. Of course you have to clean up but with a mischievous smile, you decide to snap a quick picture and send it to him.

You [6:03pm]: [image876.jpg] You [6:03pm]: Would’ve been better with you here, shit.

You see the indicator that he’s typing a reply pop up a couple of times and disappear. As you get up from your bed, though, a notification catches your attention, followed by more.

Sasuke [6:04pm]: [Name], I have to board my flight soon, I can’t believe you’d do this to me. Sasuke [6:04pm]: Do you have work tomorrow morning? Sasuke [6:04pm]: Doesn’t matter, please see if you can take the day off. We’ll stay up too late for you to go into work.

  Thanks to you, this Valentine’s Day passed well. At first, I thought of your story as rather amusing but seeing all the effort you put in to preparing a present for me - well, I suppose for one day, I should not tease you.

   Karou, know that I say with all honesty when I tell you that this has been the best Valentine’s Day of my life. Not because you introduced this holiday to us from your time but because I got to spend it with you. That is all I will ever need from you, so anything beyond that I hold most precious. Before I met you, banal occasions were not to my interest but you do seem to have a way about you that makes someone want to see the world with different eyes. I can see myself remembering this day in the years to come.

   Strangely, with you, many days are memorable. No, I don’t mean to tease you - it’s as I promised earlier but I must confess that it is difficult for me not to do so, your reactions are too endearing. I hope you never tire of this, my love but I will never tire of reminding you that your happiness is paramount, after all. Just smile for me and I will tell you anything you wanted to hear.

   Until later, little one. I much prefer conveying these thoughts and feelings to you when you are in my arms.