#[I apologize I was only able to find your side blogs for the tag]

[ask-richard-jackdaw]

Out of character: thank you @pandanscafanfiction for the wholesome and sweet Gauntdaw rp we shared, even if we didn't get to explore far 🤍 Your Ominis was sweet and charming, quick witted and very alluring. The softness (and playfulness they shared early on) made Richard feel like he is more than just an unfortunate, destined to exist alone soul. You are the Ominis of my Richard's heart.

[nebulousbrainsoup]

hey could i send a request for han jisung x readers enemies to lovers university au with the smut prompts 1 + 45 + 81(spoiled they get caught🤭) maybe with a party setting 🥰 thank you sm

prompts:

1. "I love it when you moan my name." || 45. "Just shut up and fuck me." || 81. "If we get caught, I'm blaming you."

Vehemently

fulfilled as part of my 150(ish) followers event.

PAIRING: han jisung x fem!reader GENRE: enemies to lovers, smut, college au RATING: 18+ ; minors/ageless blogs dni TAGS/WARNINGS: ft. felix, hyunjin & lino, swearing, alcohol use, drug use, slight misunderstandings, sassy jisung & reader, quick edit, let me know if i missed anything! WORD COUNT: 3.7k SUMMARY: above! A/N: i haven't been able to stop thinking about this request since you sent it, but good LORD has this fic eluded me. i think i'm coming to the realization that i cannot be mean to any of the boys who are younger than me, even if it's only by a few months. but here you are, my dear, i hope the wait was worth it. have a full-length fic as an apology </3

smut tags/warnings under the cut ; masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

NSFW TAGS/WARNINGS: lil bit of hate sex, rough sex, dom-leaning jisung, sub-leaning reader, but they’re both switches to me, bratty behavior, biting, marking, brief oral (fem receiving), use of a condom, protected sex, piv, little bit of edging, nicknames (baby, sweetheart, pretty boy), getting caught; let me know if i missed anything, please!

Coming to this party was an awful idea. You’d known it when Felix had invited you, but he’d flashed those big brown eyes of his at you and you’d melted immediately. It was his birthday, after all, and you and Hyunjin were his best friends—it would be rude for you not to show, especially since your roommate had made it clear that he would be going. Though you were wary, you decided to give it the benefit of the doubt, with a promise from Hyunjin that he would stay by your side.

The second you’d walked through the door, though, Felix had wrapped you both up in hugs, and when you’d turned back around to find your roommate, he’d vanished. The same happened with Felix when you spun back around, and you were left alone in the entryway of a house you had never been to before. You sighed in defeat, resigning yourself to finding the kitchen alone. If you were going to be here, you may as well take advantage of the free liquor. 

You’d nearly finished mixing your drink when a familiar, loud laugh caught your attention, and a chill lit down your spine. Of course Changbin would be here, you reminded yourself. He’s one of Felix’s favorite people, after all, and just because he—and probably Chris, now that you thought about it—was here, it didn’t mean Han Jisung would be. You would be fine.

Lee Minho, on the other hand, was a more unexpected sight, and you nearly jumped out of your skin at finding the man staring at you, head tilted in confusion. He looked much like the black cat he was frequently compared to, and felt just as ill an omen. Sure, he and Felix were on the dance team together, but you had never known them to be close. Han and Minho on the other hand, had always been suspiciously so. 

You gave a tight smile, which he did not return, instead asking, “What are you doing here?”

You scrunched up your nose at him. “It’s… Felix’s birthday party? Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Realization, though you weren’t sure of what, dawned on his face. “Ah, of course, silly me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?” 

“It’s Felix’s birthday party,” he echoed, raising his plastic cup to you before turning to head out of the kitchen. “And Han’s, too.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched him nearly skip away, and you quickly downed your entire drink. If Hyunjin couldn’t get you out of here now, you were going to have a long night ahead of you.

By the time you finally found your roommate, you had already caught sight of Han twice. You were fuming quietly when you finally made your way out to the backyard, unsurprisingly finding Hyunjin with a joint in one hand and a cup in the other, laughing as he passed it on to Jeongin. His eyes flickered up to you as you approached, and he began to scoot over to make room for you in the circle.

“Sorry! I kind of forgot we were sticking together. You can—”

“Did you know this was Han’s party, too?” You cut in, hands on your hips. 

The circle went quiet, and Hyunjin tilted his head at you. “You… didn’t?”

“If I did, I probably wouldn’t have come.” You seethed, and he flushed, eyes dropping to the floor. When he didn’t reply, you huffed, crossing your arms and starting back for the house. “Whatever. I’m out of here.”

It wasn’t anything against Felix or Hyunjin; you simply hated Han Jisung. You’d shared a gen-ed course your first year here, and he was the first face that stuck out to you in the lecture hall. You hadn’t expected much when you finally gathered the nerve to approach him—maybe a hello, or a quick number exchange. Instead, he’d kept his head down, given you a disinterested half-glance over, and made his way to the door without a single word, leaving you standing awkwardly alone in the middle of the lecture hall. When you’d finally gotten to know him through your mutual friends—with some reluctance—you’d immediately found him loud and annoying, far too cocky for your tastes. Between the awful first impression and his inability to take anything, especially you, seriously, your hatred for him had bloomed quickly.

And now, here you were at his birthday party. You’d seen him, sure, but you’d be damned if you let him see you. You had appearances to keep up and a heart to keep intact. Resolving to find Felix before just ditching him, you made your way back into the roiling crowd in the living room. It was hard to see between or over the dancing bodies as you were jostled, trying fruitlessly to elbow your way through, and you quickly abandoned that plan of action. Sighing, you made your way back to the kitchen, hoping for a little peace to clear your scrambled mind.

No such luck would come, it seemed, as the moment you turned the corner into the kitchen, you slammed face-first into the very man you were trying to avoid. His own freshly made drink went down the front of both of you, and you huffed a sigh, biting the inside of your lip to keep the tears of frustration from spilling. This party was a stupid idea.

“Oh, shit, are you okay?”

Before you could spiral into your abyss of self-loathing, his voice cut through your thoughts. 

“Fine,” you spat, “can’t say the same for my clothes, though.”

He frowned, irritation crossing his features at your attitude. “Look, sorry, but maybe you should watch where you’re going next time. I know you hate me, but take it easy on the booze, would you?” 

You rolled your eyes heartily, turning on your heel. Just as you were about to cross back into the living room, his hand latched around your wrist. “Wait!” He looked stunned as you turned around, swallowing thickly and giving you a once-over. “It’s kind of my fault, too, I wasn’t really… Let me grab you something to wear and I can dry your clothes or something.”

“It’s fine, I was heading out anyway.”

“It’s only been an hour. Felix wants you to at least stay til midnight, right? For his actual birthday? You and Hyunjin are like his best friends, come on. Don’t make him suffer just ‘cause you’re pissed at me.”

You scrunched up your nose and, not for the first time, Jisung thought it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. He never quite figured out why you hated him so much, but it was common knowledge between your mutual friends, and he played into it every chance he got. It was easier that way; he could put some distance between himself and his feelings for you. Whatever the reason may be, you absolutely despised him, and to see you here tonight was a complete surprise. He assumed you were here for Felix—everyone knew how close the two of you were; and the last thing he wanted to do was force you to leave the party because of his presence or clumsiness.

“Let me help. For him. Then I’ll stay out of your hair for the rest of the night.”

You sighed, but the way your shoulders slumped told Han he had won this battle. “Fine,” you muttered, tugging your wrist free of his grasp. “But it’s just for Lix.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he teased, grinning widely. As he squeezed past you, he took your hand, grip tightening as you tried to yank away from him. 

“Don’t want you to get lost in the fray, do we?” His cocky little smirk was still plastered on his face, and you rolled your eyes heartily, gesturing him forward.Although it had heat rising to your cheeks, you were thankful for Jisung’s hand in yours—though you were loath to admit it, he was right. You would have been swept away in the crowd within seconds if not for his firm grip. God, what you would do to have those hands elsewhere; he really was unfairly pretty. As he dragged you along, you got a lovely view of just how much he had filled out since that first day in the lecture hall—his shoulders having broadened and his biceps having thickened. Despite your front, you were just as head over heels for this man as you had been the day you laid eyes on him.

There were significantly fewer people upstairs, and you tugged your hand from his grip the moment you could, though with slightly less vehemence this time. He still shot a sideways glance back at you, a half-glare that held less heat than it had earlier. By the time you made it to his room, you were fighting to keep your façade up, replaying how quick he’d been to help you and how his hand felt in yours on a loop. It seemed both of you were struggling to hold onto your hatred. As you crossed the threshold into a space that, until this point, seemed both forbidden and tainted, you felt a shift in the air. 

His space was a lived-in amount of messy; there was a half-full Starbucks cup on his desk, clothes on the floor, and his bed was unmade. He didn’t touch the light switch by the door, instead picking up a remote, the lamps connected to it casting a warm glow over the room. It felt cozy, you thought, and immediately frowned. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking.

He turned to you, t-shirt and shorts in hand, holding them out for you to take. “You can change here. I’ll wait outside for your clothes… Unless you want help.”

He grinned, his grip on the pile of clothes in both of your hands unrelenting, using your tugging on them as an excuse to crowd into your space. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Jisung?” you hissed back.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind putting you in your place,” he practically purred, his free hand shifting to hover over your waist. “See if you still hate me so much when I’ve got you under me.” 

“As if your mediocre dick game could change my mind.” You weren’t sure if it was just the alcohol talking, but suddenly, you wanted nothing more than to test this theory.

His jaw set and his eyes narrowed, leaving a very different version of Han Jisung in front of you than you were used to. “I’ll show you mediocre,” he hissed, releasing his hold on his clothes and shoving you back toward his bed. “It’ll be anyone else you’ve had or will have.”

“What the fuck ever.” You rolled your eyes, letting his clean clothes drop to the floor, reaching up to grab his shirt and tug him toward you. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you,” you muttered, dragging him against you and crashing your lips together.

You felt him grin against you and you sank your teeth into his lower lip, pulling a quiet hiss from him. One of his hands snapped up, fisting into your hair to yank you back. The look on his face was one you wanted to either slap or kiss off of him; the line was too blurred now to tell which.

“Like it a little rough, do we?” He prodded, both his hands dropping to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it over your head in one fluid motion, your bra quickly joining it over his shoulder. He straightened back up, licking his lips hungrily as he took the opportunity to drink you in. “Wonder if I can still taste my drink…” he mused, quickly pressing you back against the mattress to latch his lips to your chest.

You groaned, half in frustration and half from pleasure. “Do you ever stop talking?”

He sunk his teeth into your breast sharply at your jab, a surprised squeak leaving you at the feeling. Almost immediately, he was releasing you and soothing the sting with his lips and tongue, no doubt attempting to leave behind a mark that, even if it weren’t visible, would be felt tomorrow. You let a quiet groan pass your lips, and Jisung pulled back with a quiet pop to grin at you.

“Still hate me?”

“Vehemently.”

He clicked his tongue. “Looks like I need to try harder, then.”

In a feat of strength you weren’t aware he was capable of, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, tossing you further onto the bed. You gasped, catching yourself on your elbows as he joined you, making quick work of the button and zipper of your shorts. With a swift tug, he’d pulled them down to your ankles and, with your help, they joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.

Suddenly aware of the disparity between yours and Jisung’s clothing, you sat up, hands grabbing at the hem of his shirt so you could bunch it up under his arms. “Off,” you demanded, and he quickly complied, tugging it over his head.

Before you could say another word or pull at his shorts, he slipped back down your body, his lips trailing wet warmth down your torso. The moment he reached the waistband of your underwear, he paused, gazing up at you through his lashes. “You’re sure about this?”

For the first time that night, he seemed unsure. His doe eyes were wide and open, an honesty behind them that the two of you didn’t usually share. It made your stomach twist and your heart skip a beat, and you nodded. 

“I thought you had something to prove,” you muttered in an attempt to ignore the tangle of feelings in your chest, tugging him down toward your core.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your clothed heat before tugging your panties off. The moment they were gone, he was back between your legs, licking a fat stripe up over your folds before his lips attached themselves to your clit. You whined, high-pitched and heady, and he smirked up at you, pressing a kiss to your clit. “Like that, huh?” 

Your jaw clenched and you sighed heavily through your nose, your grip in his hair tightening until he winced. “Han Jisung, I swear if you don’t… Just shut up and fuck me or put your mouth to better use.”

“Your wish is my command,” he muttered as he pushed himself back up your body, your lips meeting again in a messy kiss. 

He pulled back before you did, wincing again as you tried to tug him back to you, both of you fumbling with his jeans. “Gotta let me up, baby,” he murmured between kisses. He was clinging just as desperately as you were, his lips barely parting from your own. “Condoms are in my desk.”

You huffed, annoyed, and flopped back against the mattress, releasing his scalp from your death grip. The sound pulled a quiet chuckle from him as he stood, finally unbuttoning his pants and darting across the small room to his desk drawer. He shucked both his pants and boxers to the floor as he made his way back, and it was everything you could do not to gawk, open-mouthed, at how unbelievably pretty he was. The arms you’d noticed earlier were only the beginning, apparently—his toned stomach and legs matching them perfectly in a stunning contrast to his round face. Fuck, even his cock was pretty, flushed and leaking as he rolled the condom over it. The last shred of your pride was the only thing keeping you from begging to wrap your lips around him first.

“Like what you see?” He broke the silence, and the self-satisfied look on his face told you he had most definitely caught you staring. 

“Keep running your mouth and I’ll leave you like this.”

The panic-stricken look that flashed in his eyes had you biting back laughter, but it was quickly replaced by something darker as he caught the grin on your face. He glared at you as he settled between your legs again, ducking down once more to suck hard on your clit.

“J-Jisung!” you gasped, hand snapping down to card into his hair again. The tight circles his tongue drew over the little bundle of nerves had pleasure rocketing up your spine, your entire body tensing with the sudden onslaught. As suddenly as that had begun, the stimulation shifted, his tongue darting between your folds to taste you, and you whined out his name once more. He groaned against you, giving your clit another harsh suck—one that nearly brought you over the edge—before he sat back on his heels again.

“Fuck, I love it when you moan my name,” he sighed, caging you in below him as he lined himself up with your entrance. “It sounds a lot prettier than all those nasty, empty threats.”

“Han,” you sighed, hips rolling toward his own.

He frowned disapprovingly and shifted his hips back, the hand that had been guiding his cock now pressing your hips into the mattress. “Not like that, sweetheart, c’mon. Say it right.”

“Didn’t I just tell you to quit talking?” you huffed, grabbing at his hips.

“Or put my mouth to better use, and I think at least one of those requests has been fulfilled.” 

The grin on his face was wide and you were once again hit with the urge to wipe it off his face. The surge of rage lasted only a moment, though, before he was teasing at your hole again and your breath caught in your throat. You melted under him, hand sliding up from his hips to grip at his shoulders.

“Jisung,” you breathed, hips rolling forward again. 

This time, you saw his shaky inhale as he did the same, quiet, broken sounds leaving you both as he finally filled you. He swallowed thickly, head tucking into your neck to pepper light kisses against your skin as he bottomed out, giving you both time to adjust. He was bigger than you’d expected, just thick enough to provide a pleasant stretch. You hummed, eyes slipping shut, and ground your hips against his.

“You have something to prove, don’t you, pretty boy?” You muttered against the shell of his ear, and you felt his shoulders shake with the chuckle that left him. “Fuck me like you hate me, Han Jisung.”

He propped himself up as his hips rolled back, the hand not bracing him wrapping around your back to lift your hips from the mattress. As his lips twitched up into a smirk, he slammed back into you, settling immediately into a ruthless pace. You managed to choke back the shout that left you halfway through it, nails sinking into his back as your jaw dropped open. Strained, needy sounds were punched out of you with every snap of his hips, matched by his own pants and groans as you scratched down his back. 

“This what you wanted?” he ground out, eyes narrowing when you gave no response. “Wanted me to—to fuck you stupid? Can’t even—mmph!”

You cut him off with your lips, swallowing his next deep groan and muffling your own squeak as he picked up his pace. The kiss devolved quickly into little more than sharing air, your bodies pressed tightly together as you chased your highs. One of your hands shifted from his shoulder, snaking between the two of you to rub at your cli and Jisung shifted as you did, pausing his rhythm to sit back on his heels and drag you with him. When he resumed his pace, the new angle had you crying out, your free hand fisting into the sheets and your eyes rolling back in your head. Distantly, you thought you heard him huff a laugh, but you were too far gone to care.

You were falling over the peak of your pleasure in moments, his name falling from your lips one last time. The sight of you alone, skin sweat-slicked and back arched in pleasure, was enough to bring Jisung to the edge of his own orgasm, and the sound of your voice sent him careening over it. He pulled your hips flush with his own and let his head fall back, basking in the feeling of your walls pulsing around him as he spilled into the condom. Both of you stilled, your eyes closed and only the sound of your shaky breathing filling the room as the weight of reality prodded at the edges of your foggy mind. You could stay suspended in this little fantasy for a moment longer, you decided.

Or, you would have, if not for the rapping at the door. You and Jisung shared a look of panic and scrambled apart, both grabbing for the top blanket on his bed as the door cracked open. Your stomach sank as Felix’s voice met your ears, his blue head of hair peeking around the corner.

“It’s almost midnight, dude, what are you—oh!”

You locked eyes with your best friend before you could pull the covers over your head, and heat immediately rushed to your face. Slowly, you sank underneath them anyway, unwilling to meet his gaze any longer.

He snapped back around it nearly immediately, pressing his back to the door as he finished. “Uh, nevermind! Midnight is soon, we had that, uh… thing planned, but… I’m gonna head back down, you two have fun!”

As the door snapped shut behind him, the silence that fell over you and Jisung felt heavy, and you just as slowly crept out from under the blankets. Meeting his eyes, you saw the same confusion you felt reflected in his stare. His eyes flickered rapidly over your face as he gnawed at his lower lip, searching for something, though you had no idea what.

“Still hate me?” He muttered, nearly immediately moving to discard the condom, busying himself to avoid meeting your gaze.

Your voice was shaky, the heat absent from it as you replied, “Vehemently.”

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© July 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my work.

[dottores]

well, i was going to wait to formally announce something when i got the time but i’m a bit irritated that the first thing i see when i log in is this ask

^ to answer your question anon, idk why you’re following if that’s what you feel 💀 respectfully, unfollow and never interact with me again. and this goes for everyone else who has left nasty asks in my inbox demanding me to update. my priority is law school and family, not to update fanfics that i don’t get paid for. this is something i do on the side for fun, it is not a job nor does it help me secure my future. spend less time demanding free work from people and spend more time working on your own future. it quite literally should never get to the point where you’re demanding strangers on the internet to provide you with fanfiction and insulting them when they have other things going on—seek help. that is weird.

but on a more serious note to everyone who has been respectful & kind about it—i don’t think i’m gonna be able to update anything until winter break, i apologize to everyone who has been waiting patiently, i promise i’m not abandoning heliotropes but it will not be updated for at least a month and a half. my workload has skyrocketed the past two weeks and my professors are warning us that it’s only uphill until after finals when we get our break. i need to be focusing on work, i barely even have the energy to answer messages from ppl right now.

^^ so if you are here for just my writing, this is the time to leave. i’ve been very vocal about this not being a writing blog. it is just my blog. if you only want writing, unfollow and find it in the tags.

i am going to be closing my inbox to prevent more asks like this because it’s rude and it’s not something i want to deal with. officially on semi-hiatus.

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 19: Second Time Around

Summary: You and Arthur settle into your new relationship and try to find some more time alone together. 

Warning: 18+ please. Minor - DNI; NSFW

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

*This beautiful image comes from @regwishesshehadmagic . I know it's Sadie in the image, but this just captures the tone of this chapter perfectly.

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4​ @bimbo-dollz​ @pine4pple-b0i​ @redwritr​ @kuri-chans-blog​ @queer-sadie-adler​ @joelmillerswifey​ @gimmethosedaddymilkers​ @pcotarelo​ @delilah-grimes​ @maemortem​ @wistfulwisteriawitch​ @lilacxxdreams​ @mentallyillfrogs​ @absolutegeek​ @spurz​ @sophiaj650​ @uniqueclodzinevoid​ @lookingformaurice​ @pawoui​ @randomidk-123​ @yyiikes​ @eddiemetalheadmunson​ @twola​ @kmartkiddieisle​ @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic​  @rhehr241​  @earwen-x​ @akariver75​ @djennty​ @nervousmumbling​ @xliliths​ @unbotheredbeeeee​ @onnetonprinsessa​ @kittiowolf210​ @ezrynn​ @suhiss @arthurmargon​​ @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler​​ @alice-vanderlinde​​ @sweetandstoned21​​ @j4llyf7sh @spooky631​​ @m0r4rx @ilovrxats​​ @i-69-urmom​​ @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo @lea-khena @brccklynbaby1

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people. 

The next morning you wake up early to the faint breeze of someone’s breath dancing across your forehead. Reluctantly opening your heavy eyes just a sliver, you realize that you have your face snuggled up and tucked under Arthur’s chin. You notice the heavy weight of his strong arm draped over your middle, holding you in place close to him, even in his sleep. It is a most comfortable position to find yourself in first thing in the morning. 

A serene calmness settles over you as you take a moment to appreciate where you are and who you are with. Your drowsy eyes roll up to look at Arthur, careful not to move your head too much. You note with affection all of those little red marks scattered across his face from broken capillaries under his skin caused by years of sun exposure. In his sleep, his face doesn’t carry those deep worry lines that seem to constantly decorate his features. His hair is slightly rumpled from his slumber, locks twisted like summer wheat swaying in the wind. His eyelids don’t even twitch with any sort of movement from a possible dream-like state. He is utterly out to the world. And it is with a slight feeling of pride that you acknowledge Arthur is able to rest so peacefully because of you lying by his side. 

You think of the whirlwind of events that have taken place over the last few days. Your mind replays with such fondness the tender moments of the previous evening. While you were not able to be intimate last night, just the closeness and sweet whispers in the darkness mean volumes to you.

Your attention is briefly pulled away from your rough outlaw to the subdued movement outside of the oasis of his tent. There are a few voices muttering softly in the camp, but it’s still early enough where it’s only Mr. Pearson getting food together and Ms. Grimshaw puttering about to help him. The faint hint of fresh-brewing coffee is already carrying through the air to usher you to another day. 

The morning sun isn’t too high yet, not even breaking the treeline, casting the camp in subtle grey and lavender hues as the mist rises off the grass. The songbirds are scattered throughout the trees overhead and softly singing their own little songs to welcome the new dawn. You relish these quiet moments in the morning before the camp is awake. But as much as you’d love to stay here forever, you should probably get back to your own tent before anyone sees you creeping out of Arthur’s. 

With a reluctant sigh, you carefully roll back from the man, gently lifting his arm and setting it back down in your place. Arthur is so tired that he doesn’t even flinch from your movement. You’re not sure if you are thankful or worried about his state of exhaustion, but there’s not much you can do about it now other than leave him be to get some much-needed rest. 

You slowly sit up on the edge of the cot, stretching your arms over your head and cringing at the popping sound from your shoulder. Turning back, your gaze falls to Arthur as he sleeps. He is so handsome. Just looking at him lying there so serenely makes your belly flutter. You are anxious for his hands to be on you again; to feel those large, weathered hands that reached out and touched your heart to be all over you once more. But unfortunately, you are not in a space conducive for love-making whenever you please. With a quiet disappointed sigh, you turn back forward and try to slip away when an arm suddenly snakes around your waist. 

“Where you think you’re goin’?” Arthur gruffs out in a sleep-hazed voice. 

You quietly giggle as you affectionately wrap your hands around the burly forearm. “I should head back to my tent before I’m noticed.” You look over your shoulder again and see his blue eyes now open, thick with sleep, yet still twinkling at the sight of you.  

“I think people have a good idea that we’re together now,” he murmurs as he blinks his eyes to try to keep them open.

“I know. But we should still try to be discreet about it. At least this part, anyway.” Your voice is low and hums in the air, as if trying to keep him all to yourself as you run your fingers over the hair of his arm, drawing lazy circles on his skin.  

“I suppose you’re right.” Arthur doesn’t retract his arm, but reluctantly allows you to escape his hold of you.

You stand up and shiver a bit as the brisk morning air envelops your whole body. It's damp and chilly this morning, a sure sign that colder weather is coming soon. Arthur rolls onto his side, his eyes following you as you rub your hands over your arms as goosebumps begin to decorate your skin, popping up like effervescent bubbles. 

“See? If you’d stay in bed with me you’d be warm,” he smirks smartly.

“I’d also be late,” you reply back with a grin as you begin to finger-comb your hair into submission. “I wouldn’t want to get up.”

“Hmm…that’s the bitch of it, isn’t it?” That impish grin of his forming on his plump lips. “Well, what can you do about it anyhow?” And Arthur leans forward to grab your hand to try to pull you back onto the cot, which you playfully swat away. 

With a slight groan, Arthur moves as if to get up with you, but you are quick to put your hand on his shoulder, halting him in his place. “Ah, ah. You stay right where you are, mister.” He looks at you in confusion.  “You could still get away with another hour or two of sleep. And you need it, too. Go back to sleep.” 

Arthur shifts back down to the canvas of the cot, tucking his arm behind his head like a pillow as he smirks up at you. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Don’t worry, Arthur, you won’t miss anything. I won’t let anything happen while you’re asleep,” you tease, knowing full-well how he has to be up and watchful over everyone at all times. Always the protector. 

You tug at your skirt and blouse, making sure everything is straight and where it should be, running your hands over your hair one more time in check. When you're content that you are presentable again, you turn back to place a simple yet sweet little kiss upon Arthur’s lips, pausing to sweep your thumb over his cheekbone before heading over to the tent opening. You discreetly poke your face out to check to see if anyone is watching and then quietly scuttle back to your tent. 

—-------------------------------------

As the morning progresses, you and Arthur try to be discreet, but the stolen glances and distractions continue. Trying to stay focused on the daily chores becomes difficult. The girls giggle and tease you about it and you shake your head, trying to wave them off at their nonsense, but it doesn’t stop their curiosity and fun. 

With the afternoon sun high in the sky, you are walking with a laundry basket sitting on your hip, picking through the contents, when a hand like a vice grip suddenly clamps down on your arm, pulling you behind a wagon. Your heart jumps up into your throat as the sharp motion causes you to drop your basket and you stumble to keep your footing. A panicked yelp is quickly stifled by someone’s hand over your mouth as you flounder before being spun around and pushed back against the wooden slats of the wagon. When you finally get your bearings, you rapidly blink to see that familiar silhouette in front of you.

“Jesus, Arthur, you scared the hell out of me!” you hiss at him, slapping his chest. He can only reply with a playful, mischievous laugh, those brilliant blue eyes of his dancing back at you. He places his left hand over your head onto the wagon and leans over you, encasing you in towards him. His other large hand comes up around your neck, his thumb pushing your chin up so that your tender lips are easily accessible to him. He leans in and plants his warm mouth onto your own, inhaling as he does as if drawing out your soul.

As your kiss quickly deepens, Arthur pins you against the wooden frame with his own body. His mouth eventually leaves yours and begins nuzzling up on you, leaving a trail over your jawline and down your neck. Your eyes roll back into your head as you submit to his will, quickly getting lost. You slowly bend your leg to rub in between Arthur’s as your arms extend over his shoulders, lacing your fingers behind his head as he leans further down your neck, sucking lightly on your clavicle.

“I want you in the most sinful ways, you know that?” Arthur whispers in your ear. Your only response is a soft little groan. He gently lays his forehead to yours. “When it comes to you, there’s no doubt about it. Just this crazy need to make you mine.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I am yours, then, Arthur.” Your eyes lift to his, giving him that look, an eyebrow arched with all of the permissions and suggestions behind it. It's enough to melt his brain. “I was always yours.” Your fingers slide down from his neck to curl around the open collar of his shirt, the tips of your fingers teasingly grazing across his collarbone underneath. “It just took awhile for you to find me, is all.”

You lean up on your toes to catch his lips again and kiss him heatedly before he dips down once more to your neck to that spot behind your ear. You giggle again as his beard scratches across your sensitive skin and you roll your face into his as you cradle your arms around his head, snuggling him closer to you. 

“Ahem!” 

Suddenly out of nowhere, you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. You and Arthur both freeze before slowly turning to the side to see Ms. Grimshaw standing there with an oh-so annoyed look upon her face. 

You quickly drop your hands to your sides, face turning bright red at being caught, as Arthur drops his head down, looking sheepishly at his feet. Suddenly you feel like kids being caught sneaking out of the barn by your mother. 

“Aren't you supposed to be doing something, Miss Y/L/N?” Ms Grimsahw barks, eyebrows arched expectantly at you. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” you confess, biting your lip nervously.  

She then turns her bubbling temper to your partner in crime. “Arthur, do you need something to do?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Ms. Grimshaw stands in silent judgment for a moment and you can see the gears turning in her sharp head. “Is this going to be a problem?” She huffs, waving her finger at you both before firmly planting her hands on her hips. 

“No, Ma’am”, you both respond in unison, trying not to laugh under her intensifying scrutiny.

This isn’t the first time Ms. Grimshaw has caught people messing about, and frankly she couldn’t care any less who’s diddling who in this camp. As long as it doesn’t interfere with her work, that is. (She has a hard enough time keeping Karen and Sean focused.) But you and Arthur are new at this, acting like a couple of love-dumb teenagers, so she’s trying not to be too harsh about it.  To be honest, it kind of warms her black heart. 

After a few more awkward moments of silence, Ms Grimshaw turns and walks away, shaking her head. But unseen by you and Arthur, a little grin pops up on her stern face. “Idiots”, she mumbles.

When you are in the clear, you and Arthur both exhale with relief to be spared the matron’s wrath any longer.

“Thanks a lot, you got me in trouble,” Arthur jokingly swats your shoulder with the back of his hand. 

‘What?! Me?! You started it!” You smack his chest back.

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?” he smirks. “I mean, really, the nerve of some people. You should be ashamed of yourself, Miss (Y/L/N). Attacking me in broad daylight like that. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.” He plays innocent, placing his hand on his chest and feigning offense.

“Arthur, I swear to God…!” You bend over and snatch up the bar of laundry soap laying in the grass and whip it at him. Arthur hops up on one leg, quickly dodging the projectile to avoid being pelted with it.

“You move pretty good for an old man,” you tease, tucking that always-stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“Woman, you have no idea yet. Just you wait.” He flashes those eyes again at you. The taunt alone makes the butterflies in your stomach swirl. Arthur leans in to you with a suggestive grin as his thick fingers trail across your stomach and over your hips. “Now get back to work.”

—------------------------------------------

For the rest of the afternoon, you and Arthur manage to behave yourselves. Now that Ms. Grimshaw is wise to your antics, she has been watching you like a hawk. She doesn’t need another “Karen and Sean” in camp, especially if it’s two of the hardest working people there. Of course the woman isn’t going to be heartless about it. But she does have a camp to run, afterall. 

Currently, you are over by the food wagon. With the autumn vegetables coming into harvest, you are trying your hand at a corn chowder to serve the gang. You’re hoping it will be a welcomed change from Mr Pearson’s usual stew that is served more often than not. Hopefully if it is well received, you’ll be able to can some of the thick soup for the upcoming winter months. 

A plethora of spices and herbs permeates the air as you stir the simmering mixture in the large cast-iron kettle that hangs over the fire. You sing quietly to yourself, watching the golden mixture bubble hypnotically as bits of bright orange carrots and deep brown potato skins dance as they soften to a delightful texture. Satisfied with the state of things for now, you set the ladle aside and walk a few paces back to the work table to cut up the fresh biscuits you baked earlier to go with your dinner. 

As you work, Arthur walks over to you, casually leaning his shoulder into the side of the wagon. He takes the cigarette that dangles precariously from his lips between his thumb and fingers and flicks it into the cool grass. “Hey you.”

“Hey you,” you beam back at him. “What are you up to?” 

Every time. Every damn time, that look of brightness and excitement in your face to see him sets Arthur’s tired soul alight, bringing him back to life just a bit more. 

“Nuthin.” The corners of his mouth tug up into a grin. He folds his arms over his chest, watching your hands for a moment as your delicate fingers sort the fluffy biscuits into a basket and cover them with a white muslin cloth. 

His watchful eyes dart around as he tries to act inconspicuous before he leans in a bit closer to you. 

“So I was thinking, maybe we could get together again tonight?”

You give him a questioning look at first, but when those crystal blue eyes flash at you and the corners of his lips begin to pull up even more, you know exactly what he means.

“Oh! Here in camp?” you ask surprised, your face dusting pink at the thought of it.

“Gonna have to sooner or later, right?” Arthur tilts his head with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders.

You think about it for a moment, contemplating the option. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” you say slowly, letting the idea sink in a moment. You’ve waited so long for him, so the thought that you could be together whenever you want now is exciting. Plus, your first time together was just so heavenly, you honestly can’t wait for another go at it. 

“Okay, then.” Your face lights up as the blush of your cheek deepens. You turn to look about as well, sharing in this cute little secret plan of his. “I can come by your tent later tonight? After everyone turns in?” you suggest, an air of hushed eagerness in your voice.

The elated expression on Arthur’s face is priceless. “Alright. Sounds like a plan, then.” Like a little kid waiting for Christmas, you can see him trying to contain his excitement. Arthur didn’t think you’d be quick to spurn him, but he has to admit, he wasn’t so sure if you’d be so readily willing to fall into his arms again so quickly. 

He holds your gaze as if there is something else he wants to say or do, but only simply nods. He runs the back of his forefinger along your upper arm as he pushes himself up and off the wagon and leaves you to finish what you're doing, heading over to the fire. 

You smile brightly and nibble your bottom lip as you watch Arthur stroll over with a swagger in his step as he joins Javier at the nearest fire, his attention keenly refocused on the gun in his friend’s hand. It must be a new one Javier found as Arthur takes the gun and flips it around in his hand, evaluating it. He opens the chamber and squints to look through it, checking the straightness of it. He spins the barrel and evaluates the weight of it in his oversized hand. 

Watching Arhtur handle this gun as if it were a simple kitchen utensil, you are suddenly filled with a bit of apprehension. You have never been afraid to be in Arthur’s presence, but it fills you with a sense of dread to hold him so dear to your heart like this, knowing that any moment could be the last time you set eyes on him. Being with a wanted outlaw, being with Arthur Morgan of all outlaws, is going to come with that level of fear. He warned you of this and it wasn’t until now that you fully comprehend his caution. It makes the fire within you that burns for him all the more intense. As your feelings for Arthur deepen by the very hour, if that’s even possible, this is something that you are going to have to be mindful of. And, take advantage of the time together whenever you have it.

—-----------------------------------------

Night has fallen across the camp, the sounds of chirping crickets and the occasional hooting owl echoing in the background as you stand in your tent. It’s another chilly night yet you are warm with exhilaration. The idea of being with Arthur again tonight has been all you could think about all day since he mentioned it. 

You dress in your newer nightgown for your amorous rendezvous, one that is a simple white cotton with white silky ribbon sewn into the hems. It has wider shoulder straps, leaving you arms exposed and hugs your bustline nicely as it cascades over your chest, creating a white waterfall of textured fabric and falls to mid-calf length. 

You look yourself over in your little mirror, primping and touching-up. Voluminous locks of hair spill over your bare shoulders, but you have pulled the sides back with a white ribbon to match your nightgown. Deft fingers comb through your hair, curling the pieces just so. Slightly trembling fingertips dab a bit of red rouge to the apple of your cheeks, as well as your soft lips. 

Your hands fidget over your body, smoothing everything out, as you wince just a bit in self-consciousness at your curves. You wish you had a more attractive body to offer, but it is what it is. Arthur has already seen you naked, so there should be no surprises, yet you are still thankful to have the modest covering of your nightgown. You grab the green shawl that took you several months to ineptly knit and wrap it around your shoulders as a finishing touch. 

Suddenly, you hear your name softly called out in the darkness outside of the tent. A smile instantly blooms across your face at the sound of your lover’s gravelly southern drawl. You skip over the few paces to the opening and pull back the tent flap to see Arthur standing there. 

“Hey you,” you whisper in a hushed tone, careful not to wake anyone. 

Arthur nods to you in greeting, the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkling at the sight of you. “Can I come in?” he asks, his gruff voice equally as hushed as yours.

“Of course!” and you step aside, allowing his large frame to slip inside your space unnoticed by the others as you quickly close the opening behind him. 

“Change of - woa!” he exclaims, instantly distracted once he finally turns and gets a good look at you in the lamplight. His eyes dance up and down the length of your whole body, drinking you in from your beautiful hair down to your delicately slippered feet. The golden glow of the oil lamp gives you an even softer look about yourself, the orange flame flickering in your large, sparkling eyes as you look up at him. 

Arthur’s reaction catches you off-guard and you self-consciously look down at yourself, wondering what you missed or could have done to yourself so quickly. “What? What’s wrong?” Your hands immediately start to smooth over the nightgown, searching for the offending item.

“You…you look…amazing!” he stutters in wonderment. Even with his earlier new-found bravado, it still floors Arthur that someone so beautiful, so wonderful, could be waiting for the likes of him. You are a white lily flower standing in your tent, graceful and delicate. And it comes as a stark reminder of just how damn lucky he is. Arthur wonders if you truly have any idea what sort of a man you have invited into your tent. 

Astonished eyes blink back at him, speechless at his response for a moment. Your cheeks flush ruby-red and warm, and you cast your eyes down with a grin, nervously tucking that same lock behind your ear. 

Clearing his throat, Arthur shifts his weight from hip to hip and gives his head a quick shake in an attempt to refocus his train of thought. “Change of plans. Not gonna work in my tent tonight. Dutch and Molly are still awake and fightin’ again. And that usually leads to ‘other things’ as well.” He rolls his eyes. For whatever reason, the last time the gang moved, Arthur’s tent, which he usually likes to be setup away from other people, was placed closer to Dutch. There was alot going on at that time, and it was probably for Dutch’s convenience and easier access to his right-hand man. But now, it is causing a bit of a “logistics problem” for the two of you. 

“Maybe we can stay here?” Arthur poses hopefully, waving his hand towards your cot. 

You bite the inside of your lip at the thought of it. “We’re kinda close to the girls,” you worry, tilting your head in the direction of their shared tent just on the other side of yours.  “Do you think we can be that quiet?”

A laugh huffs out of his nose as a smirk creeps across Arthur’s face.“You forget, I’m used to taken care of myself that way before you came along.” He shifts his weight on his hips again as his thumbs settle confidently onto his belt. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, giving him a humored look. “Right, because only men need that,” you say with that signature hint of sarcasm before the eyeroll comes. The statement causes Arthur to look at you in surprise, not expecting such a thing from a woman. The thought of you touching yourself in the solitude of your tent at night causes a sudden rush of blood to his groin. 

“I can be quiet if you can. But history says otherwise,” he snickers.

“Hey, I’m not the only one who was making noise that night,” you remind him with a look that is equally as smug as you cross your arms over your chest.

God, you are just so fiery. You have a spark in you, a fire about you that Arthur finds so irresistible. He hopes that you never let anyone extinguish that part of yourself. A sense of pride begins to bloom through his chest, knowing that he’s the one that you’ve chosen above all others for yourself. 

Arthur steps up closer to you, placing his large, strong hands on your hips and looking down at you expectantly with that look of escalating desire as your own hands unfold from their place on your chest and float up to grace his forearms. Your fingers wrap around the lower part of his arms, your fingertips barely able to meet due to the bulk of muscle there. The feeling of his skin beneath your fingers is enough to ignite the awaiting heat in your stomach and you have to take a deep, steadying breath to calm the thundering in your chest.

“Okay fine. We can try it here,” you shyly concede. You let go of him and walk a few steps to the large trunk at the foot of your cot that Arthur and Charles had pilfered off of a robbery for you. You quietly open the lid and pull out the large winter comforter that you are saving for colder weather. Shaking it out, the thick material waves in the air, and floats down flat on the ground, making Arthur step back a few paces to make room. 

“What’s this for?” he asks as he watches you pull your blankets off your cot next. “We picnickin’ now?”

“My cot is even squeakier than yours,” you joke as you start to pull any pillows and blankets you have to lay down as well. “Any fooling around we do on that thing is sure to let others know what’s going on in here.”

As Arthur watches you fix your literal “lovenest”, a troubled look suddenly clouds his handsome, chiseled face.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You casually look up at him out of the corner of your eye as you get the make-shift bed ready. 

“What if it's not as good the second time around? I mean, what if the first time was a fluke?”

The hesitation is heavy on his face. That first night together in the hunting shelter was so perfect, so divine. He can’t imagine anything shattering that little slice of heaven that he’s saved for himself in his mind.

As you stand straight again, you offer him such a radiant smile. “That night was amazing, Arthur. Absolutely amazing,” you agree emphatically. “So if we are even half that good this time, it's still going to be pretty damn good.” 

Arthur breathes a sigh of relief. You’re right. Nothing is probably ever going to compare to that night. But, he’s certainly up for the challenge. 

With his mind at ease, Arthur opens his arms to you and you stride over and curl up against him. You inhale and sigh deeply, taking in the notes of leather and cigarettes mingled with his own scent. He holds you close and affectionately kisses the top of your head before lowering his chin to reach your lips with his own. His hands gently land on either side of your face, pulling you in closer for the kiss. Your own hands instinctively find their way to Arthur's ribs, fingers splayed around the mass of him to feel as much as possible before tightly fisting up the material of his shirt to pull him closer to you. You can feel the warmth of him through the fabric. You feel safe here. You feel looked-after and cared for in his arms. And this is just what you need. 

What starts as lazy kisses intensifies with that deep breathing and eventual hip pull. Arthur’s lips show no mercy as they begin to work feverishly over yours, desperate for more. And your own body betrays you as you shiver with each kiss, your knees already falling weak. 

The air fills with muffled sounds of wet kisses and quiet moans as you both try to be quiet. Your nimble fingers start to impatiently pull at the buttons of his black shirt, while his own hands are preoccupied with gripping your arms before dropping to cup the supple flesh of your rear. Layers of clothing begin to quickly become unfastened and discarded as the intimacy rapidly escalates. Restless and busy hands fumble over each other, sometimes crossing the other person’s, fighting for access to the other. 

For a second, your mind flashes back to your previous thoughts of how every moment with Arthur could be your last, and how he could be snatched from you at any time. The idea emboldens you now, making you desperate to keep Arthur to you. You reach down and cup his rapidly growing bulge over his trousers, palming it in your hand, gently squeezing and massaging. A guttural groan of yearning rumbles up from his chest as Arthur angles his hips into your hand. With your lips still locked together and panting hotly into each others’ mouths, you move to make quick work of unbuttoning his pants, pushing the fabric back to get your hand underneath.

Your palm finds Arthur’s thick cock, already half-hard from anticipation. You begin to stroke as much as the confines of his pants will allow, causing his member to twitch in your skilled hand. Your thumb rubs over his tip, already becoming wet, and he breathes hotly against your skin.

His rough hands have already tossed aside your shawl and pulled the shoulder strap of your nightgown down for full access to the soft skin of your shoulder where he has already placed hot, wet kisses and slight bite marks. Arthur pulls the fabric further down your bicep to expose your breast which he immediately clamps his mouth onto, his tongue flicking against the pebbling nipple. Your hand reaches and curls tightly into his hair as your head drops back, your mouth gaped open.You are hardly able to contain the moan that is desperate to escape your throat.

The man already has your head spinning. You’d love to see Arthur completely bare again, like you were the first time at the hunting shelter. You want nothing more than to run your hands along his massive, strong chest and arms; to feel those burly thighs of his pressed around your hips. The idea of rolling around together, completely bare and skin to skin, is so tantalizing to you both. But you are in camp this time with nothing between you two and the rest of the gang except a thin layer of canvas. Plus, you had a fire there the last time to stave off the chill air. So your clothing will need to stay on while you are in camp and you’ll have to work around it. Out of sheer impatience and modesty, you manage to get Arthur’s shirt open enough to run your warm hand over his chest and push his pants down to his thick thighs.

Without letting go of each other for a mere second, you both ungracefully lower yourselves to the ground upon the nest of blankets, lips still locked with each clumsy and impatient movement. You manage to win the dominance of the moment and push Arthur down beneath you, his back up against your cot as you twist around and swing your leg over his hip to straddle him. Your hands wrap around his face and neck, pulling him to you as your tongues wrestle over each other’s. Arthur’s hands knead the tender flesh of your sides before running up your back, clutching at the base of your neck and tightly wrapping around your waist. 

The first time you and Arthur made love together was sweet and passionate, carrying that innocent frailty of being unsure and exploratory. But this time, that seal of the unknown has been broken already. This time, it is more hot and carnal, a desperate need to replenish the high that you both have already experienced and know is lingering under the surface and waiting to be unleashed once again. 

You rock back and forth on the outlaw’s lap, rubbing yourself against his ever-hardening cock. Your mouth breathes hotly into his mouth. Arthur feels so amazing beneath you that, like an addict dependent on their drug of choice, you have to have more of him. 

It's probably indecent how much you want him, but you really don’t care. Because you know he certainly doesn’t, and that’s all that matters. And you realize that nothing is indecent as long as you’re with the right person. And that is when you lose all of yourself to the man underneath you, giving in to your desire so completely, trusting that when you fall, Arthur will be there to catch you. You squeeze his face in your hands, pulling him in to you, squishing his cheeks slightly in the process.

Arthur is constantly on your mind. Your need and craving for him, for his hands to touch you, to press yourself up against his strong body, is a persistent ache, especially after that night in the woods. It’s as if his hands left permanent fingerprints scattered across your body. You yearn for Arthur when you are apart, and when you are together, even in the most innocent of circumstances, you just want to breathe him in and convince him that you are his.

Arthur releases the hold around your waist and hastily pulls the bottom of your nightgown up around your hips. He drops his hand between you two, seeking your heat as his wrist rubs against your pelvis with your persistent rocking. With all obstructions out of the way, his thick fingers begin to rake across your folds, basting themselves in the wetness that is quickly emanating from you. 

With your face squished against his, a soft groan ushers out of your mouth as his middle finger pushes up into you. Arthur slowly pumps in and out, waking up that bundle of nerves that are nestled so gently there. When his second finger joins the first, you have to bite your lower lip at the sheer feeling of it. Your breath quickens and your hands grasp his shoulders, fingers digging into the meat of his muscles. Your eyes roll closed and you begin to grind down onto his hand as he thrusts upward at the same time, shaking his hand back and forth in stimulation. Arthur’s motions draw impassioned squeaks out of you, eventually pulling his name from your trembling lips to be whispered against his temple. His thick fingers write poetry inside of you, rubbing and curling against that perfect spot. 

Just as before, Arthur watches your face and body as he touches you. He is totally mesmerized by how someone so horrible as himself could inflict such pleasure; how hands that could do such damage could still hold something so precious as yourself. He leans forward and leaves nibbling bites along your jaw, making you even crazier with ecstasy.

Arthur holds you so tightly that all of his own anxiety melts away instantly. And he realizes that you are the key; the key to his sanity, to his well-being. His restless hands hold you like you are the missing piece to his broken soul, as if he is trying to mend you into himself. It is here with you, with you entwined in his arms, that Arthur gets to forget the ugliness of your daily lives. The stealing, the killing, the running, all of it; it's a distant thought in his mind right now. All he can focus on right now is you. 

You pull back from Arthur’s face to look him in the eye as you lift yourself up a bit onto your knees. You push his hand from your heat before wrapping your hand around his cock. You give it a couple of slow pumps, relishing the feeling of the hard, thick muscle in your hand. You line yourself up to him and slowly sink back down, allowing his size to fill you so perfectly.

Your mouth gapes and hisses at the fullness of it and Arthur lets out a faint whimper of ecstasy of his own as the two of you conjoin once again. 

Pausing only long enough to meet and hold his gaze, you begin to move atop of him. You quickly figure out that if you grind your hips in a circular motion, it rubs with the most exquisite friction. Arthur’s eyes become heavy-lidded and he lazily clunks his forehead to yours in a moment of pure weakness at the new sensation. 

You move slowly at first, clenching your muscles around his cock as you pull up and down, but you just simply can’t maintain that pace. You are hungry and burning for him, and selfishly you give in to your own needs. You build up speed, each thrust of your hips gaining more momentum. A sharp huff emanates from him as he falls forward even more to lean his forehead onto your shoulder. There, his lips bury into your soft skin and he tries to muffle his uncontrollable moans and grunts.

Arthur doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the sight of you coming completely unraveled before his very eyes. He feels your trembling fingers digging into his skin and watches your face contort with pleasure as you ride him. It's a thing of such beauty, such awesomeness that he has no words to describe it. His head dips lower as his plump lips land to that sweet spot of soft skin on your chest just above your breasts. The sensitive porcelain-smooth skin reddens as his beard stubble scratches delightfully against it, setting your nerves on fire. Arthur clutches you even closer to him as you snap your hips back and forth, chasing that lightning that you know is on the horizon for you.

You begin to moan and pant even faster and louder now.  Your hand desperately grasps at him as your arm encircles his shoulders while the other one reaches behind you and pushes against his thigh to support yourself. A beautiful fog clouds your rational thinking as you get so caught up in the blissful moment.

Too caught up. 

The lines around Arthur’s eyes crinkle a bit in amusement. “You’re gonna have to try to be quieter, sweetheart,” Arthur muses. “You’re gonna get us caught.” His hand comes up to brush a few rogue strands of hair away from your eyes, before cradling your face and smashing his mouth into yours in an attempt to swallow your bewitching little sounds. But being quiet is proving to be easier said than done.

“Do you want…to stop…what we’re doing?” you ask between breaths, slightly annoyed at the light-hearted criticism.

“Hell no.” He pants out matter of factly.

“Then you try to hush it!” And you grind down especially hard to make your point. His stiff cock rams into your back wall; the tightness of your heat clenches unrelentingly around him. Arthur stifles a lustful whimper with your unexpected movement, and his head turns and eyes screw down tightly. It takes a moment for him to regain composure and he slowly opens those majestic sapphire eyes again to stare you down.

“Is that the game you wanna play, little miss?” Arthur growls out, his expression dark and lustful.

Your only response is a suggestive and taunting eyebrow lift as you continue to bop up and down, completely unaware of the beast that you have just unleashed with your salacious behavior.

In an instant, Arthur flips you from his lap to your back, causing a yelp from your throat, and he is quick to roll on top of you. His intense eyes stare you down like a predator. Those eyes alone can fill you with a need and desire like no other, even in the shadows of the night. His firm lips on your body fill you with fire, and the way he works his tongue over yours could easily make you forget your own name. 

Arthur’s grip on you is firm and solid. Not rough, exactly, but not gentle either. He comes up on his knees a bit, and forces his pants down a bit farther on his thighs to give him more flexibility to move. Large hands shove your nightgown up past your ribs. Arthur holds you exactly where he needs you to be, making it clear in unspoken terms that you are not to move. His chest heaves with hunger and you can’t take your wide and shining eyes off of him. He is magnificent. 

One of his hands hooks under one of your tender thighs and Arthur pushes it up to your chest. He holds it there with his broad chest as he leans over you, scissoring you as he wraps his free hand around his cock. When Arthur pushes his solid, heavy member into you once again, it stretches you in a whole different angle, leaving you absolutely breathless. 

He is in total control of your body now as he ruts deep and fast. The new position pulls on the back of your thigh, but it’s nothing compared to the new-found stretch inside of you. Arthur’s massive hand clamps over your mouth in an effort to muffle your moans and whimpers while he supports himself with his other hand set next to your head. Once he gets his bearings, Arthur leans forward even more as his face sinks into the side of your neck, huffing out hot, humid air onto your tingling skin. And you try so, so desperately to be quiet.

You lose all track of your senses as you are completely overwhelmed by them. Arthur is so handsome, so perfect. He is hard as lightning, yet can be as soft as candlelight. His strong, muscled body encompasses your own as he covers you. The very sight of him is enough to make you come undone if you thought about him long enough. You wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders as you angle your hips upward to meet the pounding of his as your breath races to keep up with his relentless pace.

In a brief window of clarity, Arthur makes a mental note to take you somewhere where you don’t have to be so quiet next time. He took for granted how loud you two could be, briefly forgetting how intense the first time was. He absolutely loves the sounds you make for him and he’s a bit resentful that he has to try to silence you and deny himself that simple pleasure. Your little moans and gasps make him grasp you even tighter; to push that much deeper and to squeeze that much harder as his mind is set afire. The hard ground beneath you digs into your back from his unrelenting force, even with the cushion of the blankets.

Athur relishes the way your body rocks back and forth as he rolls his hips into yours. Like a puppet, you move with each of his administrations. He can’t get over how you respond to his touch. Whether he is soft and caressing or rough and lustful, how can you be so pliable, so accepting to him?

He doesn’t last as long as the first time you were together, being too wound up with anticipation this time. But then again, neither do you with that pinnacle coming hard and fast just as before. Once again, the two of you are in perfect sync. Arthur can tell when you’ve hit your climax first, as your body spasms sharply beneath him and a euphoric yet muffled whimper escapes under his hand that is still clamped over your mouth. He can feel your calf muscle tighten sharply against his shoulder as your toes curl as the orgasm overtakes you. Then, your whole body goes limp with exhaustion, no longer able to maintain the energy to stay with him. This causes Arthur to push even faster to chase his own release. A few more greedy thrusts before he pulls his hips back, releasing his warm seed upon your abdomen with a satisfied grunt. 

When he’s sure you have control of yourself, Arthur releases his hand from your mouth, setting it next to your head, opposite his other. His head hangs exhaustedly between his shoulders as he hovers over your trembling body. Panting heavily, Arthur lowers himself to his elbows, cradling you to himself, but trying not to crush you in the process.

Once again, Arthur worries if he’s been too rough with you in his overzealous excitement. But that is quickly dispelled when you lift up to nuzzle your face into his cheek, your arms still gripping tightly around his shoulders. You pull Arthur down to lay overtop of you, eager to feel his warm skin against yours. He hums contently as he comes down from his rapturous high and his heartbeat tries to slow.

“Not gonna lie, but I could really get used to this” he mutters as he places soft kisses to the cuff of your ear and then over your eyebrow. He rolls over to his back, yet still close enough that his arm lays up against yours. You both lie next to each other panting and trying to catch your breath, staring up at the canvas ceiling of your tent. The slight burn between your legs faintly pulsates, leaving you feeling spent and your legs like jelly.

“You’re right though, we’ll have to work on being more quiet,” you giggle softly, turning your head to smile sheepishly at him. Arthur reaches down to entwine his thick fingers with your soft, delicate ones and lifts your hand to kiss them. After a moment, you reach over and grab one of your hand towels to clean yourself before handing it to Arthur and adjusting your nightgown to cover yourself again.

“I’m up for more practicin’. Just so you know,” he snickers as he wipes himself down and proceeds to pull his trousers back up around his hips. 

Arthur leans over you to toss the towel onto your cot then comes up on his side, head propped up on his hand and elbow so he can look down on you. In return, you roll on your side to face him, your arm comfortably tucked under your head as a pillow. 

“I may never leave the tent, if that’s the case,” you reply seductively.

“You’d get sick of me real quick.” 

“I don’t know, I’d find ways to entertain myself with you.” You roll even closer to him and wrap your hand around the back of his head to pull him to you and begin to playfully nibble on his ear.

Another soft chuckle bubbles its way out of his broad chest. “Miss (Y/L/N), you're makin’ me blush.” 

You draw back to see his face again. “If everyone else was unkind to you in the past, then I want to make up for that.” And you deliver a delicate kiss upon his nose.

“There’s a reason for that, ya know,” he raises an eyebrow in warning to you.  

“I’m not too worried about it.” You run your fingers through his hair and stare into his eyes, giving him the most loving smile. Arthur quietly stares into your face, his thumb drawing softly against your hip where his hand comfortably rests. 

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes.” He kisses the pad of your thumb as you sweep it across his chapped lips as he speaks.

“I could say the same about you.” Another soft giggle leaves your lips.

“You’ll be disappointed when you find out,” he says flatly. 

It takes a moment, but your face turns into a slight frown of disapproval and your eyes catch an unhappy gleam in them. “You need to stop this, Arthur.” Getting a little exasperated, you reluctantly separate from him and his warmth and slowly sit up, leaning back against the cot. You wrap one of the blankets around yourself, drawing your knee up to your chest.

Arthur’s expression quickly turns to worry, afraid he’s already screwed something up. “I’m sorry, did I make you mad?” 

You look down as your fingers nervously play with the edge of the blanket around your shoulders. “A little. This needs to stop, Arthur. I know you’re not used to being treated kindly, but we really need to change that.” Your chin lifts again as you give him a look of slight admonishment.

His eyebrows pull together in shame. “What’s the point?” he pouts.

“What’s the-?” You rapidly blink back at him, totally flabbergasted. “Because I lo-…!” 

And you stop short in your speech, eyes widened. Your heart beats so fast and hard that you can hear it in your ears. It's too soon for you to say those three simple little words. You just got Arthur to admit he has feelings, period. You don’t want to spook him any more than you already have. So you'll have to reel this topic in for now. 

All in good time. 

“Because it hurts my heart to hear you talk about yourself like that, is all.” You quickly backpedal, tucking loose pieces of your hair behind your ear again as you avert Arthur’s gaze for a moment, hoping he missed your slip-up. Fortunately, he’s so preoccupied with your sad face that he missed the intention of what you were just about to say. 

Arthur gives you a guilty look. He never, ever wants to be the reason for any discomfort to you, even if it means he’s going to have to be kinder to himself. You are going to call Arthur out on his bull-shit; that’s something he’s going to have to get used to.

“‘M sorry.” He sits himself up now as well, set right in front of you. He gently takes your chin in between his thumb and fingers. “I’ll try. I promise.” His blue eyes look deep into your own in earnest to try to instill his words and convince you of his intention. He reaches down and takes your hand again and kisses the back of it before engulfing it with his own two in an attempt of an apology. 

“I want to show you what it’s like to be held the way you should be,” you say softly. Your other hand floats out to rest over his heart, feeling how it flutters beneath your palm. “You are nothing that I expected to find here when I first met you, Arthur. But you are quickly becoming everything that I have ever wanted. I know you think that you’re full of disappointment. But I promise you, there’s a huge part of you in there that is worth keeping.” 

Arthur stares back at you, slightly slack-jawed. His head tilts ever so slightly as if he’s about to say something, but whatever it is catches in his throat. His eyes glisten slightly from the mist gathering in the corners. Even in the golden shadows of your tent’s lamplight, you can see the crimson rise from Arthur's cheeks up to the tips of his ears as a smile slowly creeps across his handsome face before he has to avert his gaze from yours to collect himself. 

He places his hand overtop of yours on his chest, holding it there as if afraid you’ll retract your offer. Your words not only cut into him, but they nest there like a seed about to germinate and flower, blossoming into something beautiful for the whole world to see. Sometimes it’s best not to overthink, not to question too much and wonder why. Arthur just needs to stop and take a deep breath, and, as Dutch says, have faith that all will work out for the best. 

“We’re both broken, Arthur,” you breathe, your voice gentle and angelic in the quiet night. “But I think we just fit together so right. Don’t you?” Your glinting eyes burrow into him so deeply when he lifts his chin again to meet your smile. 

“God, I hope so,” he whispers.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been several days since you and Arthur have “officially” become a couple. And you are quickly settling into a comfortable routine. While you try to be discreet about the relationship and still have that jovial interaction publically, there is definitely a distinctive difference in how the two of you interact with each other. 

The shy and awkward glances and innocent flirting have given way to more assertive touching and possession. You and Arthur have always gotten on well together and everyone else could plainly see the attraction between the two of you, even when you yourselves could not. And now that it is all out in the open and acknowledged, it is as if the two of you have already been together for years. 

There is the unspoken responsibility for the other one that is always present; one that is tinged with love and respect. It’s a familiarity that usually comes with time and experience. But it is as if you and Arthur are old souls, already having been tied together since before you even met. 

They say that love has no bounds:  not time, location or circumstances can dictate how love will present itself. To have rules and restrictions is a losing battle. Like water cutting through the rocky terrain of a mountain canyon, love will cut its way through and carve out a whole new landscape for those blessed with its presence. 

Today, Arthur has just gotten back from a two-day stint out hunting for food and supplies for the gang. You wanted to go out with him, but since he was doing more than hunting, Arthur had taken Charles out instead, leaving you safely behind. It was kind of annoying at the time, but just as Arthur needs to get used to you being so nice to him, you are going to have to get used to Arthur being so protective of you. You are a precious jewel to him and he will stop at nothing to make sure that you are safe. 

Of course, the minute he’s back in camp, Arthur is called into Dutch’s tent for some damn thing. You sit at the table with some of the girls, mending one of Jack’s shirts, as your eyes follow his tired form lumbering over towards Dutch before returning your attention back to your work. Molly is sitting off to the side of you and looks up from her book as she notices Arthur’s return as well. 

“It’s about time they got back,” she mutters out loud. “Let me know when he’s done in there with Dutch. I need him to run into town for me.” She lifts her chin in Arthur’s direction.

You blink your eyes incredulously at her before a hard frown settles on your face. An irritated sigh huffs out of your mouth as you drum your fingers impatiently on the tabletop. You look at Molly and as calmly as you can, you simply utter “No”.

Molly looks at you for a moment, as if confused by your statement. 

“You’re going to have to send someone else, or wait until later when Arthur has rested up a bit.” You try your best to speak calmly yet firmly to her, as this is a subject that you are not going to yield on.

Molly’s green eyes flash at you as the irritation is clearly visible on her beautiful face. “What?!” 

“I’m sorry, what was the confusing part for you?” You tilt your head at her. “The ‘no’ or the ‘you have to wait’ part?” 

“Who the hell are you to decide anything around here?” the red-head snaps at you. “What, are you Arthur’s keeper now?”

“Apparently, because no one else around here is going to look after him. He does everything around here.” Your own voice begins to escalate as you wave your hand at the expanse of the camp. “The least you could do is give him a break between requests!” 

Tilly and Abigail look at each other nervously as they watch the exchange, not sure if they want to get caught in the middle of an impending catfight. 

At this point Arthur emerges out of Dutch’s tent and slowly makes his way through the camp, the exhaustion evident on his body. Giving Molly a quick scowl, you abruptly get up from the table and walk over to Arthur before anyone can approach him about anything else. You stop right in front of him, causing him to halt and lift his chin at you, a faint smile emerging on his face. 

“Hey you”, you say softly, smiling at him. 

“Hey”, Arthur counters. The minute he lays those blue eyes of his on you, the tension immediately begins to subside within his body.

You reach out and gently grab his gloved hand. “Come with me, please.” And you lead Arthur towards his tent. 

“Um, okay,” he replies, a bit confused. For a moment, Arthur thinks you are dragging him to his tent for some “amorous attention”, but he quickly dismisses that idea when he notices the slight irritation in your step.

Once inside his tent, you sit him down on his cot. You stand in front of him with your arms crossed over your chest, assessing his current state. “You look dead tired.” Your eyes are laced with concern.

“Yeah, I feel dead tired, too. Took me ten minutes to get down from my damn horse, I think,” he complains as he drags his hand over his haggard face that is past-due for a shave.

“Okay, then,” you insist definitively. “You stay in here, lay down and get some rest. I’ll go get you something to eat. Don't you move from this tent, understand?” you instruct as you point your finger at him. “I don’t want anyone asking you to do anything for awhile.” 

“Y/N, I appreciate that, but there’s work to be done around here.” He motions towards the camp before his hand falls limply into his lap.

“Don’t care right now,” as you are quick to shut that idea down. “Either someone else can do it for once, or it will have to wait a bit. If I have to, I’ll take care of it myself.” Your eyes are wide, with your eyebrows launched into your hairline and your body rigid.

“Okay, I guess.” Arthur smiles, pursing his lips a bit. He’s not used to someone helping him, let alone putting his needs first. He can tell by the look on your face right now that there is no arguing with you about this, either. Apparently, he’s not the only one in camp that one doesn’t want to piss off. 

Satisfied with his submission to your request, you turn and head out of the tent. Arthur just grins, shaking his head at your nonsense. His eyes cast down to his boots, half tempted to pull them off, but quickly gives up with the thought of the physical exertion of it. He takes a long, deep sigh, leaning out on his knees with his elbows, letting the stiff muscles of his back slowly unwrap themselves. He slowly wiggles his head back and forth, trying to get his neck to “crack” and release the tension sitting there. 

“Where are you going?”

Arthur hears your voice piercing through the air off in the distance and turns his head towards the commotion. He immediately notices that you’ve caught Sean trying to head over to the tent.

“I was just-” Sean sputters, pointing at Arthur’s tent.

“Nope, no. Don’t even think about it!” you snap sharply.

“Yeah, but-” the little man attempts to protest again, but you just are not having any of it. 

“I don’t care! Whatever it is that you need, go find Charles. And you keep your ass away from that tent! Understand?”

“Ugh, fine!” Sean huffs out a pout and stalks off to find Charles.

The sight makes Arthur chuckle in amusement at your protectiveness. “That’s my girl.” He lays back on his cot with a groan and closes his eyes, tossing his hat onto his chair. 

—------------------------------------

As the late afternoon breeze carries through the camp, it gently lifts a few ruby and topaz-colored leaves to skip across the cool grass. You’ve managed to keep everyone away from Arthur upon his return to camp, allowing him to rest a bit for once. After he’d eaten something, you discreetly tugged on his arm and pulled him away, wandering off to find a quiet spot. You both know it's only a matter of time before Arthur is called away from you for one thing or another, so you try to steal whatever quiet moments you can together. 

You sit peacefully under a tree at the edge of camp with Arthur’s head in your lap. Your fingertips absentmindedly curl themselves in that triangle of exposed skin between the top buttons of his union suit and shirt, playing with his chest hair. His hat is pulled over his eyes to shield them from the bright autumn sun, now starting to make its descent for the day. The sun’s rays sprinkle a peppered sunlight across your nose, gently warming your face. You read your book and hum softly to yourself until you hear Arthur’s soft snores in your lap, making you smile down at him. 

Soon, you see Hosea approaching from the side. The crunching of leaves under his worn black boots causes your head to lift in his direction. He instantly halts when he sees Arthur’s hat pulled over his eyes. You put a finger to your lips in a shushing motion. 

“He’s sleeping,” you mouth quietly. 

“Oh,” Hosea silently mouths in return. He stands there a minute, observing the tranquil scene in front of him. A certain sense of pride and even relief settles over Hosea’s chest as he observes you and Arthur together, sitting so untroubled and content. He wasn’t sure he’d ever see his adopted son so happy again. 

“Well, when he wakes up, let him know I need to see him, won’t you?” the older man whispers.

You smile and nod and Hosea quietly turns around to walk back towards the camp. 

After a few moments, Arthur’s voice murmurs “I ain’t sleepin’, you know.” His hat is still lowered, but you can catch a glimpse of his lips curling into a grin under it. 

“Shhh. I just bought you about another twenty minutes of peace and quiet. Don’t ruin it.” You lift the corner of his hat and peer under it. “And, yes you were. You were snoring.” You playfully drop the hat back onto his face resulting in a light laugh to huff out of him.

He gives himself a few more minutes of calm, but eventually, Arthur rolls himself up with a groan. He casually reaches over and grabs your thigh, tickling it and making you giggle and squirm. He’s slow to stand up, reluctant to move, as his knees make a slight popping sound. He brushes the grass off of his butt and leans over to grab your chin to kiss you on the lips and then your forehead. 

“Thanks for the nap, darlin’” He gives you a wink that makes your heart flutter in your chest. 

The smile you return is one of absolute adoration. “Anytime, cowboy.”

[greg-montgomery]

Ivy - Part 11

gif by: @hotch-girl <3

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Sean Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

Series summary: Your relationship with your boyfriend, Sean, is going great. Well, that is until you meet his older brother, Aaron.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

i am back!!!! <3333 we're getting close to the end my besties <3 if you missed the previous chapter, i'm sorry i didn't tag anyone! but now my blog is fixed and everything is back to normal!!

i think i’ll only write one or two more chapters on this story and we’re done 🫶🏻

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“She’s gonna be alright.” Those were the words Aaron had said to him after getting you back. Sean was holding onto those words like his life depended on it.

“Thank you for reaching out to me for help, even after everything we’ve done to you,” his brother had said. “It means more to me than you know.”

“I would never put my pride above her safety.”

“I’m really proud of you for that.” That statement should have not made his chest swell the way it had. Seeking validation from his older brother seemed like a trap he still fell into; even after being betrayed by his own blood.

“I don’t know if you’ll ever find it in you to forgive me, but I don’t want to lose you.” Sean remembered the way Aaron’s voice had broken after saying those words. “Just know that you’ll always be my family and I’ll always be by your side if you need anything. You can still hate me, I don’t mind, as long as you know I’m always here if you need help.”

“I know.”

“Hot chocolate is ready!” A bubbly voice snapped him out of the memory of that phone call.

“How can you be this energetic at 4 in the morning?” he groaned, taking the cup of hot chocolate from Penelope’s hands.

“Well, my job doesn’t really have a schedule. So I’ve been trained to be alert at any time of the day. Or night.” She smirked.

Penelope had insisted on staying with him after hearing the news that you were safe. Sean couldn’t even imagine how awful he must have looked for a stranger to make an offer like this. But he was glad she did. That woman was full of warmness and light; things that had been missing from his life.

He had only managed to bring the mug on his lips, when he heard his phone ring. It was you.

“Hey,” he said, breathless.

“Hi, Sean.” Your voice was weak, tired; he could tell. But you were alive and that was all that mattered.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. I slept, I showered, and now I’m having something to eat.”

It stung that it was Aaron who had probably cooked for you; that it was Aaron’s embrace you had found comfort in that night. It was all clear to him now. Sean was the reason you had been kidnapped. Aaron was your knight in shining armor who had come to your rescue.

It would never be Sean again for you. It would always be Aaron.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he cried. “I don’t know what to say. I feel like the bigg-”

“Don’t you dare apologize for this,” you interrupted him. “How could you have known?”

Sean wasn’t able to reply, his sobs choking him, preventing his voice from coming out.

Penelope was quick to sit next to him and take his hand in hers. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“Sean, do you think we could meet at some point? And just talk? I think we both need it.”

You were right. “Yes, we do. I’ll text you when I can.”

“Thank you,” you said.

There was an awkward pause. The times you were giggling on the phone asking him to hang up first were long gone.

“Um…try to get some sleep, please,” you spoke again. “I’ll be doing the same.”

“Okay, Y/N. Good night.”

“Good night.”

--

A kiss on the forehead by Aaron calmed your beating heart down. “I’m proud of you.”

“I can’t tell whether he hates me or not,” you admitted, letting your phone drop on the couch next to you. “Last time we talked it felt like he didn’t wanna see me again. And now it’s…”

“It’s all very complicated,” he said, leaving another kiss on the side of your head. “He’s hurt, but he still loves you. And now he feels guilty on top of everything.”

“I don’t want him to forgive me because he feels guilty.”

“We need to give him time, my love. Let him reach out to you when he’s ready. He needs to process his emotions first,” Aaron said. “We all do.”

“Thanks for the input, Oprah.”

“Ah…” he said, throwing his head back. “I missed that nickname.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek with all the love in the world.

Brining your attention back to the soup you had left, you brought up a little detail from the phone call you just had.

“As I was talking with Sean…” you started, “I swear I heard Penelope’s voice at some point.”

“Penelope as in…”

“As in Penelope Garcia.”

Aaron raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I guess she stayed there for moral support?”

“Can she even do that?” you wondered.

“Well, your case wasn’t official so I guess she can,” he argued.

“Hmm…interesting.”

At least you were gonna sleep easier now, knowing that Sean wasn’t all by himself.

--

“Shh…Try not to wake her, okay buddy?”

“Okay.”

After a sleep full of nightmares that you were back in that basement, being woken up by the whispers of your favorite people was a blessing; even if they managed to do the exact opposite of what they had just said.

You opened your eyes slightly, being met with a little Jack climbing up the bed.

“Daddy, I woke her up,” he said, turning to face his dad with a guilty face.

“It’s okay, my angel. Come here,” you said, softly, opening your embrace for him.

Jack was soon in your arms, and to the sight of Aaron smiling at the two of you, you fell back asleep.

This time, without bad dreams.

--

My family: those two words were on your mind the entire day you spent with them.

Normally, you would be irritated if the people around you acted as if you were going to break at any point, but how could you be mad when those people were Aaron and his son?

Aaron told Jack you were a little sick and that was all it took for him to act as overprotective of you as his dad did. They didn’t let you lift a finger, and somehow, this treatment felt comforting. You felt loved and cared for. You were important to them.

“Need some tea, maybe?” Aaron asked, as you rested your head on his shoulder. Jack was playing in his room, finally giving you some time alone.

“All I need right now is my man to hold me.”

“Okay. I’m sorry if I’m being too much.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you said, placing your palm on his chest. “Thank you for taking care of me.

“I would lose my mind if something happened to you,” he admitted. “I don’t even wanna think about it.”

“Then don’t,” you replied, kissing his jaw. “It’s over now.”

“It is,” he said softly, his nose brushing against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

You cupped his cheek and brought his face close to you, giving him a deep kiss. “My love…”

“Y/N, look what I made!” Jack’s excited voice made you break your kiss abruptly, but not fast enough for him not to see what was happening. To Jack, you were still his aunt – not his dad’s girlfriend.

Embarrassment and surprise were written all over his face as he stared at you, before running back to his room.

“I’ll talk to him,” you told Aaron before he even had the chance to speak.

--

You knocked on Jack’s door and entered his room after hearing his soft, “Come in.”

Jack was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, a superhero figure occupying his hands.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Why were you and daddy kissing?” he asked, staring at the toy on his lap.

“Honey, uncle Sean and I are not together anymore,” you said, taking a seat next to him.

“You don’t love him anymore?”

“I love him, but not the way I love your dad,” you answered honestly. He was a kid, but you weren’t going to hide the truth from him. Children understood everything anyway.

“You love my dad?”

“Very much.”

“And does he love you too?” Jack finally looked at you.

“He does.”

“So now you’re my dad’s girlfriend?” His tone was curious, not judgmental like you feared.

“Yes, my angel,” you said.

“Isn’t uncle Sean mad at you?”

His question hurt, as innocent as it was.

“He is. And we deserve that.”

“I’d be mad too.”

Thanks, Jack, you thought.

“Max is my best friend,” he said after a small pause.

“Okay…” you said, uncertain where he was going with this.

“But after Christmas break, when we went back to school,  he only played with Alex, and not me anymore. And it made me really sad and angry. But then…then…they said they were sorry and we started playing all together. And now we’re all friends.”

You furrowed your brows - trying to ignore your protective instincts that wanted you to fight two children named Max and Alex – and focused on the moral message of his story.

Yes, the three of you would never be best friends. But Sean deserved an apology. The one you hadn’t given him the day you broke up, because you thought it was worthless. An apology wouldn’t fix anything, but Sean deserved to hear it anyway.

Jack interrupted your thoughts by moving closer to you. “I know that uncle Sean is mad, but I’m happy you’ll be here with us a lot. I love you.”

That kid had the ability to melt your heart like butter. “I love you too, buddy.” You leaned in to give him a hug.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered against your shoulder.

“Of course.”

“I kept wishing you were my mom and not my aunt. And I think that my wish came true and that’s why daddy fell in love with you.”

You squeezed him even tighter.

Part 12

ivy tag list: @preciousbabypeter @buckysmainhxe @galaxyofmyown @ssamorganhotchner @romanogersendgame @elhotchner @louderfortheback @northschild @iammirrorball @rousethemouse @kishie8 @save-the-sky @ssacharcoalgrey @realdirectionx @itsmytimetoodream @art-and-thoughts @red-red-rogue @dellalyra @feetgypsy @stella95827 @katieslotherford @jazzymariexoxoc @quietlyignoringyou @justarandommom @sebastiansstanswhore @lelifesaver @aaron-hotchners-girlfriend @whyamihere96 @sylvieofasgard @redbleedingrose @222brooke @xoprincessmel @girlintheredscarf @radical-gecko @yeehawbitchs @jazzerbelle14 @jayxox @adrienette715 @fudosl @sardonic-courtney @emlynblack @kizzywh @formulapierre @crocodilefeet2707 @mojo366 @spicysimpura @twelfthnightorwhatyouwill1998 @mrs-ssa-hotch @clairedragonessbaker @n0t-yours-you-w1sh @tipsyteenstoday @potatoesonacouch @the-fantasy-loving-angel @my-beel @lex13cm @chibsytelford @crimsonincursive

[ensemblesmile]

rockstar in love

tags: best friends dad, age gap (reader in their 20s, semi in his 30s), fingering, hickeys, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, infidelity, (and probably more that i can’t currently think of).

warnings: minor and ageless blogs DNI!! i will block any that do interact without ages in their bios or pinned.

word count: 10.6k

summary; famous rockstar semi eita is thought to be in a happy marriage with two amazing kids, however his life isn’t quite so picture book perfect as his fans might think. or, at least it wasn’t. but the moment he met you, he dreams of the actual picture book life he could have with you that finally comes true during your final summer break of college.

a/n: it's finally posted! it feels like ages since i posted this thirst of a rockstar!dilf!semi eita. it is definitely different from that post, however the dilf rockstar semi is still the same, and that he is also readers best friends dad. also, this was my first time ever writing smut so i would like to apologize if that part of the fic is not written well... also also, i may or may not write a second part depending on if this is well received or not as well as if i get any ideas... anyways, i hope you enjoy!

semi eita, lead bassist and composer for the infinity order, had prided himself on the fact he had the most perfect family anyone could ever dream of. the perfect wife, an amazing son, and a beautiful daughter. or at least, that's the façade he's kept up for years because his manager didn't want him to ruin his image or his bands.

however, behind closed doors, his family isn't all that it's cracked up to be. his son hasn't willingly talked to him in years, his wife cares more about money and status than being a good wife, a good lover. the only thing good in his life is his daughter, the only one who's been by his side through everything.

when his daughter had gone off to an arts school in the states, he'd thrown himself into his work, hoping to distract himself from having to see his wife or son the few times a day they would come home. due to his newfound dedication with his work, his band mates had started to worry about their lead bassist and composer. they hoped he wasn't pushing himself too much, but they couldn't lie and say they didn't find his dedication to his work admirable. and because of this need to stay away from home, the band had been able to crank out single after single, eventually being able to turn out a few new albums before the year was up and gaining more and more attention from new fans, both nationally and internationally. and due to this newfound popularity, semi and his band mates had been able to quit their day jobs in order to focus solely on their band.

once semi quit his day job, he'd moved out of the penthouse suite he shared with his wife and son, buying himself his own house and a huge property, thankfully being able to afford it due to his bands rise in popularity.

the few times his daughter had come back to japan for breaks, she'd brought various friends with her, though only one seemed to always be by her side. that friend was you, a sassy dancer semi had started to get to know as incredibly strong willed, stubborn as all hell, and, at least in semi's eyes, sexy as fuck and intriguing as hell. whenever you were visiting with his daughter, he would always find himself secretly searching for or staring at you, sometimes feeling an erection start to grow if you happened to be trying out a new dance routine when you thought only his daughter, semi aiko, was looking. he'd always curse himself when he found himself growing hard to his daughters best friend, hating that you, someone almost half his age, had such an effect on him. he couldn't help that he once recorded a new dance you had been showing aiko, jacking off to the you in the video who's hips swayed tantalizingly and the look on your face which was pure sin in semi's eyes.

you, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to his growing attraction towards you. when you'd first met him, he'd been nothing more than your best friends father, the one person in aiko's family that she even still talked to. but as you started to get to know him during your visits to japan, you'd slowly started to find him attractive the more you got to know him. you, however, would always shake off your attraction towards him, cursing yourself for starting to feel something for your best friends father. honestly though, you couldn't keep shaking off your growing attraction towards the mysterious, tall, dark, and handsome male that always welcomed you into his home with open arms. you would have to face your feelings eventually.

so one spring break, when you returned to japan with aiko, your attraction for him (and he for you) started to bubble over, resulting in "coincidental" run ins, lingering looks shared over meals or conversations, brief touches as you passed each other in the halls, or random excuses to touch each other in...less than appropriate ways.

you had also found yourself dressing differently. not in a way that would show more skin, but in a way that showed off your curves without revealing skin. you were confident in your body up to a point, but once clothes started coming off, your comfort levels started to decrease. that was why you'd stuck with clothes that accentuated your curves. and boy did semi notice these changes, finding that he seemed to be getting harder a lot more frequently, finding more chances for lingering touches or chances to talk with you more just so he could stare at you in the guise of being a good listener.

these actions, however, did not go unnoticed by aiko, the one person who knew semi the best. the mutual yet hidden feelings had become clear to her one day during her second year of college when she and you had been visiting japan for a short visit during spring break. at first, aiko was a bit weirded out by this development when she'd first found out, however she had slowly started to accept it — and even silently support it — the more she realized her father had been happier than he had been in a while. if you, her best friend, were able to make her father genuinely smile — a feat he'd only been known to do when onstage nowadays — then of course she would support a relationship between her best friend and her father. how couldn't she? if you genuinely made her dad happy, she would help your relationship blossom.

so, after months of secretly planning, she invited you to visit her father in japan with her during summer break where she would finally put her plan into action. well, she would start working on her plan before summer break by getting you more comfortable with wearing clothes you were usually less than comfortable wearing. and one day, after you had agreed to visit japan with her for the third summer in a row, she had suddenly brought up you and her father which had caused you to blush bright red and stutter hurriedly to change the subject. however, with that reaction, aiko's suspicions had finally been confirmed — at least on your end. she would still need to confirm things concerning her father, but that could wait. right then, she had to grill you about those feelings you were feeling towards her dad.

"so, y/n, now that you've agreed to visit japan with me for summer break, is it because you know my dad will be back from tour?" aiko had suddenly asked one day during a sacred girls day you and aiko usually did after a rather stressful week of classes.

"wh- what are you talking about, aiko? of course that's not the reason," you'd quickly rejected, face heating up into a deep red blush, quickly turning away from her so she couldn't see the blush coating your cheeks.

"i knew it!" aiko cheered upon seeing your reaction, hands thrown into the air in triumph.

"shut up, i have no idea what you mean," you muttered, shaking your head at your best friend in embarrassment.

"oh, i'm not mad," aiko assured, reaching out to give your arm a squeeze of reassurance. "yeah, when i first found out i was a bit confused and concerned, but the happier i saw my dad get, the more i found i was okay with it. sure, you're my best friend, and sure, it would be weird to start thinking of you as my stepmom, but so long as my dad is happy and finally out of that toxic relationship, the better off he'll be. and i just know he'll be better off with you in the picture."

"wait, so you're actually supporting this?" you had questioned, dumbfounded at the way aiko seemed completely okay with whatever might happen. "and don't get ahead of yourself. i don't even know if eita-san likes me in that way."

"so long as you make my dad happy, then yeah, i'll support you," aiko nodded, sending you a smile so big and contagious, you felt your own smile grow in response. however, you felt it slip away the moment aiko had given you a serious look. "but i swear, if you end up hurting my dad, i will make your life miserable. and don't be ridiculous, if he didn't also like you in that way, do you think i would even be bringing this up?"

"of course, ma'am, i would never dream of hurting eita-san," you responded seriously, earning a quick attitude change from aiko in the process. this had you raising a silent eyebrow in concern, musing silently to yourself about how the semi family — at least the two you knew — were very strange people. but you knew for a fact that if given the chance, you would never choose to not meet your best friend, the first true friend you had ever known — your own siblings excluded.

and so, the rest of that girls day was spent discussing aiko's surefire plan to get you and her father together.

step one: get you more comfortable with wearing more revealing clothes so that by summer, you could confidently strut around in clothes aiko knew would drive her father mad. step two: get you both chances for those lingering touches to get bolder, more insistent. in aiko's words, "build up that sexual tension." step three: set up the perfect occasion for you and him to be alone, setting the most perfect atmosphere for all that built up sexual tension. in aiko's words, "that built up sexual tension needs to snap at some point, why not make it while i'll be out of the house so you have the whole place to yourselves? besides, i don't want to hear any of it."

after giving you the plan, you and her worked continuously on it to refine and rework the plan before heading to japan for summer break, where you would start to enact said plan into your daily life.

it started the moment you arrived in japan, wearing a much too revealing outfit in public for semi's liking. you wore black combat boots, black fishnets, short jean shorts, a black crop top decorated by a silver sun design that happened to reveal your stomach if you were to move or stretch a certain way, and a red flannel that hung low over your backside so that from the back angle, it looked like you weren't wearing any pants. never in a million years would he have guessed it was you walking beside his daughter as you both made your way to the baggage claim, talking excitedly to each other with bags slung haphazardly over your shoulders.

as he stood in the airport, he realized that he must've been standing out too much because he found himself surrounded by a sea of fans, all bombarding him with questions and requests, though he hardly seemed to notice them as he barely took his eyes off you and your — in his eyes — very appealing yet revealing attire.

"sorry, my daughter and her friend are here, thank you for supporting my band and i," semi quickly spoke up, pushing through the crowd to get to you and aiko's side.

"hi, dad!" aiko smiled, giving her father a bright smile and big hug, happy to see her father after the semester apart. "you didn't have to pick us up, we could've called an uver," aiko added, glancing towards the large group of people who all seemed to be staring at them.

"nonsense, i wanted to greet my daughter the moment she came back to japan, just like i always have," semi responded, ruffling the younger semi's hair in amusement.

"hey, not the hair," aiko protested, sending her dad a glare as she fixed her hair.

"thank you for having me again this summer, eita-san," you finally spoke, having been silent the entire exchange, but now finally finding the perfect opportunity to speak up — though it may have had more to do with aiko giving you a sharp elbow to the side.

"of course, y/n, thank you for continuing to watch over my daughter in the states," semi responded, giving you a warm smile.

"of course, i'd never leave aiko, she'd be in trouble if it weren't for me," you spoke teasingly, eyes twinkling in amusement as you smirked at your best friend due to the look she had shot you.

"shut up, y/n, like you're one to talk," aiko responded, elbowing your side, causing you to double over in mock pain.

"ouch, i'm wounded, aiko," you responded, placing one hand above your heart while the other went to rub your side as if to soothe a sharp pain.

"payback's a bitch, isn't it," aiko teased, a twinkle of amusement in her eye that semi had grown used to whenever you and her were together.

semi simply watched your and aiko's exchange, used to the dynamic you shared due to your closeness. it was something semi had no idea he was missing until it suddenly came back into his life. he was so lost in thought thinking about how much he had missed his daughter, and especially you, that he hadn't realized that aiko was heading towards the carousel to collect your and her luggage until you were pulling gently at his arm in order to move off to the side so you weren't taking up so much space. with a muttered apology for getting lost in thought, he quickly followed you, watching from the corner of his eye as you tapped away furiously on your phone. he had an urge to see what you were doing, but he knew he needed to respect your privacy, so he refrained, deciding to simply watch in amusement as you reacted to what was on your phone with minute facial details. a crinkle in your brow to show confusion, a light blush to show embarrassment, a huff and pursed lips to show annoyance, a smirk to show smugness. semi should probably feel worried that he could pick up on so much when it came to you, but he just couldn't find it in himself to actually feel that way. after all, you were a puzzle he just wanted to solve — or was there more to it?

"—ther, father you there?" aiko questioned, waving a hand in front of semi's face to try and catch his attention. "i got our luggage if you want to get out of here." aiko explained, gesturing down to the two bags that now sat at their feet. "and also, to get away from...this," she added, glancing behind her to gesture to the sea of people still trying to get a good look at half of the semi family.

"ahh yes, sorry," semi apologized, glancing from his daughter to the crowd gathering behind her then back to his daughter before sending her an apologetic smile and then taking both bags for the girls and leading the way to his car so they could leave. he could hear you and aiko whispering together behind his back, however it was too soft so he wasn't able to pick up on just what you might be whispering.

"you take the front seat, talk to him," aiko was whispering, urging you to make a move, even if it was just a small one.

"you'll be in the backseat though, so won't that be a bit awkward," you whispered back, glancing nervously in front of you to semi's back.

"as if, i'll have my headphones in and i am a bit jet lagged, i'll probably take a nap on the drive there," aiko responded, rolling her eyes at your nervous attitude in amusement.

"but-" you tried again, only to earn a sharp glare from aiko to stop you from continuing.

"look, think of it this way, this is step one of our plan to get rid of the sexual tension between you and my father," aiko hissed, shoving you towards the front seat upon the arrival to semi's vehicle.

having finished putting your bags into the back of the vehicle, semi had watched the particularly insistent shove from aiko with a raised eyebrow, a small smirk taking over his features as he notices the subtle glare you had sent aiko before opening the front passenger door and taking a seat in the passenger side of the car.

aiko simply rolled her eyes at you in reply as she got into the back seat, instantly pulling out her headphones and blasting her music, loud enough you could just barely hear it in the front of the car. reaching a hand behind you, you swatted at air, hoping to give your best friend a smack for being so obvious. aiko simply watched a you flailed around in amusement, making sure to keep to herself until semi got into the car, stopping your vain struggle in finding aiko in the back seat. she noticed semi's mouth moving, meaning he was probably talking to you though she couldn't hear anything over her music, not that she wanted to hear anything you or he would be saying. with that thought firmly in her mind, aiko stared out the window, letting her mind wander as she watched the scenery pass by, eventually letting jet lag catch up to her and resting her eyes.

you were in a similar position as aiko, though you tried to push through it in order to continue the conversation you'd been having with the rockstar. it was mainly about his career and your semester since you'd last seen him. small talk that slowly petered out as you, too, felt the affects of jet lag starting to catch up with you.

noticing the newfound silence, semi glanced at you from the corner of his eye, realizing you must've been tired though you looked like you wanted to fight it. with a small smile on his face, he reached over, placing a large, calloused hand on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze, urging you to go to sleep and that he would wake you when they arrived at his home. you sighed softly and nodded your head, resting it against the glass as you let your mind wander. absentmindedly, mind muddled with sleep, you had reached down towards his hand to gently start playing with his fingers as you felt yourself slowly fall asleep.

semi couldn't help the surprise that took over his face for a second before a soft smile made its way onto his face, stilling your fingers to gently turn over his hand and simply hold your hand, fingers interlaced as you slept. fleeting moments like these are what semi wished for, to bask in your warmth and acceptance of who he was and what he stood for. because that's what you did, accepted him for who he was the moment you'd met him.

semi silently lamented the fact you were his daughters age, because if you had been older, he would've instantly called for a divorce with his wife and had pursued you. no one besides aiko had ever accepted him for who he was, they were always too enamored with the fact he was a rockstar, too interested in his money or using him in order to get at his bandmates. they never seemed to see him as the man he was, but rather the man the media portrayed him as. but you were different, you had made an effort to get to know him, to understand the real him, who he was behind his rockstar persona.

upon arriving to the house, semi gently pulled your hand up to his lips where he pressed a gentle kiss against the back of your hand before he gently placed it back on your thigh and let go of your hand. you had made a sound of protest as he let go of your hand, though he couldn't tell if it was his imagination or not, so he simply leaned over, pressed a kiss to your temple, and then, in a whisper, promised he'd be back for you. then he got out of the car, grabbing both your and aiko's luggage, and bringing them inside and up to your designated rooms. then he came back for aiko, gently lifting her bridal style and bringing her to her own room and placing her on the bed. he knew he wouldn't be able to wake aiko so he decided he wouldn't bother. then he went back to the car in order to wake you up, though when he opened the passenger side door, he instantly found he didn't have the heart to. you just looked so peaceful, a calm look on your face instead of the worry that usually marred your beautiful features. sighing softly, he carefully unbuckled you and then picked you up bridal style, stiffening for a second when he felt you cuddle closer to him before heading towards your bedroom in the house. when he reached your room, he had carefully placed you down and then tucked you in, smiling to himself because you just looked so at ease while you slept.

as semi was turning to go, he froze as he felt a tug on his arm, causing him to slowly turn around to face you. "please stay," you murmured half asleep. semi silently cursed at the invitation, inwardly debating with himself on whether or not he should actually stay. he couldn't lie to himself, the thought of holding you while you slept did sound tempting, however he wasn't sure you knew entirely what you were saying as you lay there, half asleep, trying to get him to stay there with you.

sighing, he knelt down on the ground. "i want to, beautiful, but i don't want you to think i'm taking advantage of you or anything," he explained softly, cupping your cheek and rubbing his thumb on your bottom lip as he spoke.

"i don't care about that, i just want someone to hold me," you responded, leaning into his touch subconsciously. "please, eita-san, hold me, that's all i'm asking." honestly, you weren't above begging at this point, you just felt so touch deprived since your breakup that you didn't care who it was so long as they held you close. semi seemed to be debating with himself why he should and shouldn't give in, though he ultimately gave in to the desire to hold you close like he had when carrying you up to the room.

sighing, semi slipped off his shoes before lifting the blankets, urging you to scoot back as he climbed into the bed beside you and then enveloped you in his arms, smiling softly to himself the moment you shifted closer and buried your face in his chest. oh if only he could stay like that with you forever. finally holding you in his arms, softly tracing random patterns onto your back, semi felt at home, more at home than he'd ever felt when holding anyone — besides maybe aiko, though it definitely was in a different way from how he felt when he held you. you hummed softly, a content sound to semi's ears, as you slowly drifted off to sleep, your breathes evening out and lulling him to sleep as well. it didn't take long for him to fall asleep despite him trying to fight it.

it had been a few hours since you had arrived at semi's home when aiko woke up, slowly at first until she felt her stomach growl. after that sound, she quickly got up, dressed, and headed to your room to check if you wanted anything specific, though she froze in her steps upon opening the door, spotting her father cradling you against him as you both slept. a small smile took over her face as she whipped out her phone to snap a picture, forgetting that her sound was on and cringing when the shutter sound went off. despite the loud click her phone had made, she had managed to capture a sweet moment between them, smiling to herself as she closed the door and went towards the kitchen to make some food for herself, staring at the picture with a soft smile on her face.

in it, semi's back was facing the camera, his lower half covered by blankets. he had his arms wrapped around your midsection, with his chen resting softly above your head. she had managed to capture the picture at an angle, so she was able to just barely make out your face buried in semi's chest, a soft smile on your lips as if you were subconsciously reveling in the warmth semi provided as he snoozed right next to you.

"is that the picture you took of us?" a voice spoke up behind aiko, causing the young semi to jump in surprise and turn to face her dad who wore an apologetic smile at having scared his daughter.

"geez, dad, a little warning next time? i thought you were still asleep," aiko muttered, clutching a hand over her heart as she felt it racing beneath her hand.

"sorry, i thought you would've realized i woke up," semi grimaced, glancing away in embarrassment from his daughter. "but you have to admit, that click wasn't exactly subtle, im a bit surprised y/n's still asleep."

"oh please," aiko snorted, clicking her phone off and sliding it into her back pocket. "that girl can sleep through anything. it's a pain trying to wake her up in the mornings so she isn't late for classes."

semi hummed thoughtfully at this new information, enjoying the fact he was learning more about you, even if it was from his daughter and not directly from you. as he absorbed this new information about you, he made his way into the kitchen, grabbing pots, pans, dishes, anything he felt he would need when making dinner, aiko taking a seat at the island which sat in the center of the rather large kitchen. no words were spoken between the father daughter pair as the elder semi made dinner and the younger semi prepared a side dish, the pair working well together despite neither knowing what exactly the other was making.

when the meal was finally finished, neither semi had the heart to wake you just yet so they made sure to keep whatever needed to stay warm was nice and toasty in the oven while they cleaned up and set the table in the dining room that semi only ever used whenever the pair were there or he had guests over. the silence was broken by aiko who had been trying to come up with a subtle yet serious way to bring up the potential relationship between two of the three people who mattered most to her.

"so, you and y/n?" she had questioned, earning a raised eyebrow from semi as if asking what she meant by that. "like, what's going on? do you like her or..."

"why are you asking, aiko?" was semi's response as he continued to set the table, making sure not even the napkins were out of place.

"oh, you know," aiko responded, a teasing glint in her eye as she unlocked her phone and tapped on the screen a few times before sliding the phone towards the rockstar, a smirk on her face as she watched a light blush coat semi's cheeks as he glanced at the phone and then looked away. "i totally encourage whatever it is you might want to pursue with my best friend. just, yknow, don't do anything gross around me, that crosses the line."

"pursue?" semi questioned, eyebrow raised at aiko as if questioning why she was bringing up something like that now of all times.

"yeah, i saw the way you were holding her, and when you picked us up from the airport, don't think i didn't notice the look you were giving her," aiko responded, a smirk now permanently on her face as the elder semi just continued to prove her point. "look, i was a bit weirded out at first when i found out about your...mutual interest in each other. however, as i watched your interactions from afar, i realized that y/n makes you happy, more happy than i've ever seen you with...her. if she makes you happy, i won't complain. but if you hurt my best friend..."

"yeah, i guess you're right," semi mused, thinking back to the time when they'd first met and the many other interactions since. okay, so maybe she was definitely right. "look, i won't hurt y/n, i could never hurt her. and i promise not to show too much affection with her in front of you. however, i don't...does she really like me like that?"

"seriously?" aiko questioned, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. semi gave her a somewhat sheepish look as aiko sighed and muttered something unintelligible under her breath. "geez, it's like you're a lovesick teenager, dad. i'm not having this conversation with you. no, no way."

"alright, i get it, i'll figure things out on my own," semi sighed before turning towards the archway and leaving the room.

"where you going?" aiko called after his retreating form.

"to wake up y/n so we can eat," semi responded, striding towards the stairs and to your room. pushing open the door, what semi wasn't expecting to find was you curled into a ball, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps, eyes squeezed shut as if you were in pain. "hey y/n-hey y/n are you okay?" he questioned, dropping to his knees in front of you in order to be level with you. he had never seen you like this, though, so admittedly he didn't exactly know what to do in this sort of situation. he shot a quick text to aiko who suddenly appeared in the room, shoving her dad aside so she could be at eye level with you if you were to open your eyes.

"hey, y/n, open your eyes for me and breathe," aiko spoke, her tone gentle yet demanding as she spoke to her friend. y/n cracked an eye open slowly, one after another, staring into a familiar pair of hazel eyes. "good, now breathe in slowly through your nose, and then slowly out through your mouth." when aiko instructed you to breathe, you followed what she said, over and over again as you slowly felt the pounding of your heart decrease. the three of you sat in your room for a good half hour as you slowly calmed down and regained your bearings, neither semi willing to leave your side until you were calm enough to move.

when that happened, you slowly pulled yourself from your ball and gently sat at the edge of the bed, smiling softly in thanks at aiko for helping you get through yet another of your panic attacks, before your gaze averted to semi, eyes widening at the pure, unadulterated worry and relief swimming in his eyes as he gazed at you, hands going up to reach up to cup your face as he stared into your eyes, searching them for anything that might give him a hint as to what had just happened. he hardly acknowledged when aiko spoke up, saying she would be getting their dinner on the table, instead keeping his full focus on the woman who was slowly starting to steal his heart for herself.

"ei- eita-san, i'm okay, really," you murmured, a sigh escaping your lips as you leaned into his touch, hands moving up to cover his own resting on your cheeks.

"you really worried me there, beautiful," semi breathed, thumb absently running over your cheek and causing you to sigh into the touch.

"i'm sorry, i think it was just the unfamiliar environment that caused the panic attack, or it could've been my dream...though i don't really remember what it was about," you murmured in response, closing your eyes as you tried to remember just what your dream had been about.

"don't worry about the cause, i'm sorry i wasn't able to help you with it, i felt pretty useless just sitting there staring at you," semi apologized softly, taking his hands from your face and instead holding them out for you to grab, pulling you up so you were almost flush against him. honestly, what he really wanted to do was lay back down with you wrapped securely in his arms, however he knew you needed to eat something and aiko was probably waiting for them so he instead settled for wrapping his arms around your smaller frame, chin resting on the top of your head.

"i'm sorry for worrying you, eita-san, thank you for staying though," you murmured, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning a cheek against his chest.

"shhh, it's okay, beautiful," semi responded. "now let's go eat dinner, i'm sure aiko's getting impatient."

"mmh, she does this to me all the time with her boyfriend, she'll survive," you hummed despite pulling away from semi and heading for the door, pausing when you felt a tug on your hand to turn back to him.

"stay with me tonight," semi murmured, interlacing your fingers together.

"feeling lonely?" you teased, eyes twinkling in amusement as a myriad of emotions seemed to pass over his eyes before landing on adoration.

"i just want to be there for you if something like that happens again in the middle of the night," semi responded, pulling you along with him as he led the way through the large house to the dining room where aiko was no doubt waiting for them. your brain seemed to have stalled at the new information which had caused semi to lead the way, making sure you were following behind despite your still clasped hands.

"ugh, dad, what did you do to my best friend?" aiko muttered, catching the almost vacant look in your eyes as you took the seat across from her, semi to your right at the head of the table.

"i don't think i did anything, she was fine until we left her room," semi responded, glancing worriedly at you as you absently started scooping food onto your plate.

the three of you fell into silence, both semi's casting worried glances over to you every so often. it wasn't until after dinner when you had offered to do the dishes that both semi's seemed to breathe sighs of relief that you were fine. aiko blamed it on the fact you still seemed tired, and the way you woke up hadn't been the best way, either, wracked with panic.

"yeah, okay, you do the dishes then, i'll set up a movie or something in the theatre to watch before we go to sleep for the night," aiko nodded, heading for the archway after having cleaned up her side of the table, handing the dishes off to semi as she left.

then, with hands full of dirty dishes, semi followed you into the kitchen and over to the sink where he set them down and then headed back out for the leftovers, transferring them to tupperware and placing them into the fridge.

the two of you worked in silence, with you washing the dishes and semi drying them after you had finished washing them. it felt so domestic to you, almost feeling like something you could get used to if it was with semi. the dishes were done faster than you would've liked, wanting to spend even just a little more time with semi before joining aiko in the home theatre room semi had redecorated part of the basement into.

it seemed semi had the same thought, wanting to spend even just a little more time with you before joining aiko for a movie night. after you had dried your hands with a towel semi hadn't used to dry dishes, semi had caged you in between himself and the island, hands resting on the island countertop to keep you trapped there. your usually soft e/c eyes went wide with surprise as you glanced from his arms to the smirk he wore. his hands slowly travelled from the island to your hips, lifting you up onto the island and setting you down on it so that you were almost eye level with him, though he was still taller than your seated form.

"eita-san, what are you doing?" you asked breathlessly, eyes never leaving his gaze.

"i was planning on finally kissing you if that was alright," semi responded softly, hands trailing from your hips to your thighs, spreading them apart so he could stand between your legs so he could be even that much closer to you.

"oh please," you murmured, wrapping arms around his neck to pull him closer to you, your bodies almost flush with each other as you got your first taste of each other. you smiled into the kiss as semi groaned, loving the way you felt against him. his lips parted and his tongue shot out, licking at your bottom lip as if demanding entrance. you responded in kind, parting your own lips to allow him entrance, tilting your head slightly to allow for better access, hands going from around his neck and into his hair to brush through his hair. when he slipped in his tongue, it met your own, at first fighting for dominance before he won, almost finding himself moaning at the taste of you and feeling himself go hard to the taste of you.

"ugh, please stop biting each others faces off," aiko muttered from the entrance of the kitchen before she entered and went about making popcorn.

semi silently cursed aiko for interrupting, pulling away from you who quickly buried your face in semi's neck to hide your blush from your best friend.

"i'm happy for you guys, truly, i am," aiko continued as the machine started the process of popping popcorn. "however, if i have to see anymore of that, i will cut you. i do not want to see my dad going at it with my best friend, that's a picture my mind would much rather live without."

"shut up, ai, it's not like i wanted to see you and your boyfriend going at it either, and yet here we are," you spoke up lightly, still blushing like crazy though your face was no longer hidden in semi's neck.

"shut up, that was completely different and you know it," aiko sniffed, turning her nose up and away from you in mock defiance.

"really? because at the time, your boyfriend happened to be my older brother," you responded, earning a sheepish look from aiko in response.

semi, who was simply content holding you close after you had pulled away from the kiss due to aiko's interruption, raised an eyebrow at the conversation between the best friends. "oh? you dated y/n's brother?" semi interrupted their conversation, earning a small nod from y/n in response while aiko sighed.

"yeah, they ended on good terms though," you murmured, smiling softly over semi's shoulder at aiko who couldn't help the slight frown on her face.

"they may have been good terms, but you never really forget your first relationship," aiko sighed, cupping her face in her hands as she thought back on her relationship with sora.

"if only you could," semi muttered darkly, though he had to admit that two good things came out of that relationship, and they were both currently in the kitchen with him. if he had never been with that woman in any way, he never would've had aiko, and if he never had aiko, he never would've met you. so one good thing that led to another good thing had happened between him and that woman — semi refused to think of her as anything else now that he was finally able to hold you in his arms.

"hey, stay with me, don't think back to then," you murmured, moving a hand up to his forehead to rub at the worry lines that started to mar his features. "be with me, in the moment, not then with her."

"you're right," semi murmured, moving his head to your neck to give you some featherlight kisses there.

"alright, and that's my cue to leave the room," aiko declared, taking her newly made bowl of popcorn and marching from the room, calling over her shoulder how the movie was ready whenever they were if they still wanted to watch it.

"we're coming!" you responded, pushing lightly at semi's shoulders in order to make him move back to give you space to jump down from the island. semi grumbled about having to watch a movie, saying he'd much rather spend his time doing something else to which you just laughed at, commenting how it was true guys only have one thing on the brain when it came to the object of their affection.

semi watched you for a few seconds, admiring the slight sway of your hips as you followed aiko, calling over your shoulder if he was coming or just going to admire your ass to which he chuckled and quickly caught up, grabbing your hand to guide you to a couch behind the one aiko sat at and away. he then got comfortable, reclining back before pulling you down to sit between his legs, back resting against his chest so he could cuddle with you as the movie played.

or maybe he wasn't thinking of just cuddling because aiko had barely even started the movie before semi swept aside your hair and you felt lips on your neck along with the subtle scape of teeth against your skin causing your breath to hitch in your throat at the feeling. without much thought, you exposed more of your neck to the bold male, feeling a smirk take over as he continued his ministrations on your neck, growing bolder as he listened to your breathing hitch in your throat or the way you exposed more of your neck to him. loving the way you reacted to him, he continued on, growing even bolder by lifting your shirt with his hands so he could trace your hips and stomach without barriers between his hands and your skin. another bold action was him trailing kisses along your neck until he found the spot on your neck that you reacted to the most and then biting down, leaving a bruise in its wake. he was quick to soothe the inflamed area with his tongue, feeling himself go hard at the breathless moan you released at the feeling.

"if you guys start doing it on that couch i swear to god," aiko spoke up, throwing a handful of popcorn in their general direction. "are you even paying attention to the movie? go upstairs if you're going to do...that."

"yeah yeah, i hear you aiko," semi responded, standing up with you in his arms bridal style. "enjoy...whatever it is you're watching. i think we'll be busy tonight so don't bother us any." he called over his shoulder as the two of you left, you slinging your arms around his shoulders for two reasons. the first being so you could steady yourself, not wanting to risk possibly falling from his grip. the second reason being to hide your face in his neck, your cheeks burning as you heard over and over again the exchange between your friend and the man you were slowly starting to realize you were in love with.

"hey now, beautiful, don't go getting shy on me now," semi spoke softly, stopping in front of a door and swinging it open, maneuvering himself and you inside before gently laying you down on the large king size bed on one side of the room in the center of that wall.

you carefully scooted yourself up the bed so that your back was resting on many pillows. then you took a moment to take in the room around you. directly across from the foot of the bed sat a nightstand with a large tv. on either side of the nightstand stood two doors, one of which you assumed led to a walk in closet and the other to the bathroom. a few pictures hung here and there of him and aiko mostly, though you did see some of him with his bandmates and even some of you, him, and aiko. honestly, the room didn't look how you were expecting it to. you thought the musician might have more instruments in his room just in case he thought of a melody or lyrics late at night. 

semi could see your mind racing with questions, smiling softly at the sight of you slowly taking in his room. "what are you looking for, beautiful?"

"your room just looks...different from what i was picturing, i guess," you replied softly, turning your head to face him.

"really? how so?" he questioned, crawling into the bed right next to you, laying on his side so he could stare at you as you spoke.

"i don't know, i guess i just assumed, with you being a musician and all, especially being the composer for your group, that you would have more instruments set up around the place," you murmured, sighing at the feeling of his fingertips dancing over your hip as you turned onto your side to face him.

"that's a fair assumption," semi responded, loving to see how you reacted to his every touch. "my recording studio is right through that door though, so i don't really need them with me in order to compose in the middle of the night. however, i will tell you that this room is soundproof just like my recording studio, so you can be as loud as you want to and aiko will be none the wiser." he whispered against your lips, having moved closer as he explained where his instruments actually were.

your face instantly bloomed bright red at the implications, wanting to turn away from the shameless man in front of you, though he wouldn't let you because he was now kissing you, rolling you over so that he landed on top of you, using his forearms to steady himself so that he wouldn't crush you under his weight. but before the kiss could go any further, you moved a hand to his chest and pushed him away, a look of hurt flashing in his eyes for a millisecond before being replaced by worry. maybe he was too bold, maybe you didn't actually want this, maybe maybe maybe. many other possibilities flew around in his mind but before he could get carried away, you spoke up, speaking words he never thought he would ever hear from your mouth.

"are you sure you want me, you want this?" you whispered uncertainly, voice shaking with emotion as you looked anywhere but at semi. semi, confused on where this was coming from, sat up and then pulled you with him, sitting at the edge of the bed and pulling you into his lap where he could watch your side profile even if you tried to hide your face.

"what do you mean, dove?" he questioned, wanting to get to the bottom of this sudden hesitation from you.

"i- i just mean like-" you spoke, pausing every few words because you weren't sure if you were ready to share the sudden flash of insecurity you felt. "you could have anybody you wanted, literally anyone at all, so why choose me?"

"are you kidding?" semi questioned incredulously, almost throwing his head back and laughing at the question though refraining before he could tell you were serious about it and he didn't want to give you any reason to get mad at him or leave. "look at you, dove, you're the most beautiful woman on the planet, nothing can change my mind about this fact."

"no i'm not, i'm really just average, there are so many more beautiful women out there," you responded, playing with your fingers in embarrassment at the conversation you two were having.

"hey, no, look at me," semi spoke, cupping your cheek and tilting your face up to look at him, his thumb gently tugging at your bottom lip to pull it out from between your teeth. "are you listening?" you nodded at his question, albeit shyly. "good. the first time i ever laid eyes on you, you stole my breath away. i couldn't believe someone as beautiful as you could ever exist. but it felt wrong to think of you in that way despite you being a legal adult. but now, you're here in my arms and i wouldn't change anything for the world. let me show you the love i feel for you in my heart, please beautiful." semi finished in a whisper, forehead dropping forward to rest against your own. you sighed at the admission, truly feeling the sincerity in his voice.

instead of answering, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his, arms moving to wrap around his neck as you kissed. with semi not moving from his seated position, you carefully shifted your own position so that you were straddling his lap, your lips not leaving his own as the musician deepened the kiss, licking at your bottom lip to gain entrance to your mouth. you granted him the access he desired.

as the kiss deepened, you rolled your hips, moaning at the friction you feel against your clothed cunt. semi let's out a hiss, pulling back from the kiss to watch your eyes roll back at the feeling of his growing erection. he loved this side of you, a side only he would ever get to see as he vowed to ruin you for anyone else. as you lost yourself in pleasure, semi carefully lifted your shirt over your head, his own shirt following yours onto the ground.

"you're so beautiful," semi murmured, taking in the sight of you, shirtless, before him. a blush bloomed on your face as semi fiddled with the clasps of your bra, unhooking it and watching as a little more of you was revealed. semi groaned at the sight, he couldn't help it, you were just so beautiful, so tempting. semi stood up, almost so suddenly you would've fallen had you not had the quick reflexes to wrap your legs around his waist.

semi was quick to throw you onto the bed and then climb on top of you, using his forearms on either side of your head to bare most of his weight. with this new position, he couldn't help the groan that escaped him at the sight of you beneath him. with one arm, he started to fiddle with your pants, causing you to giggle and help take your shorts off, with his being quick to follow. with the hand that had pulled off your shorts and fishnets, he cupped your warm cunt in his hand causing a moan to slip from your lips and grind down on his hand, wanting to feel friction against your pussy. semi watched your reactions, loving the fact that it was him that made you react this way, it was him that you were currently under. all those years of thinking he wasn't good enough, that he didn't deserve any love went out the window the moment you had first moaned for him.

without any warning, semi dragged a finger along your sopping slit and then inserted a finger into your hole, almost coming on the spot at the beautiful moan of pleasure that left your lips. you really were so reactive to him, evident by the way you were clenching around his finger. you gave another moan of pleasure as he curled his finger inside you, mouth falling open in pleasure when he added a second finger. this had you absolutely creaming around his fingers, a sign you were close to coming. with a few more thrusts, he pulled his fingers from your dripping hole, smirking at the whine you let out as he moved his hand up to lick his fingers clean of you, eyes closing in pleasure at just how sweet you tasted. it was better than he ever could've imagined, you were better than he ever could've imagined.

"you feel and taste so good, angel," semi murmured before he leaned forward to give you a sweet kiss on the lips. "but however pretty you may look coming on my fingers, you'll look even better coming on my cock."

"mm whatever you want, eita-san," you murmured, slowly opening your eyes to look up lovingly at the man before you.

"good girl," he murmured, kissing the side of your lips before rolling off you in order to reach into a drawer on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. you whined at the loss of his warmth before you rolled over as well, landing on top of him so you were straddling him.

"no need for that," you murmured upon realizing what he might be grabbing, reaching over to hold his hand in yours, fingers naturally intertwining. "m' on the pill. want to feel you, no barriers."

semi cursed softly at your admission, groaning at the feeling of you grinding down on him before he was quick to roll you both over so he was again hovering over you. "do you have any idea what you do to me?" he whispered against your lips, hands still clasped together as his other hand trailed from your hip to your thigh, prying open your thighs so he could drag his painfully hard erection along your soaking slit before entering you slowly, moving in bit by bit to allow you to grow accustomed to his size.

semi wasn't painfully large nor was he unnaturally long. he also wasn't short or small, but rather it felt like you were the lock to his key, you slotted together so perfectly. it was like he was made expressly for you and you for him, it was that perfect. once you'd grown accustomed to his size, you started to squirm beneath him, needing to feel his length move as you clamped down around it. semi couldn't help the chuckle that rumbled his chest and then traveled to yours, giggling at the feeling of the vibrations it gave off against your own chest.

as he started moving, he wrapped your leg around his hip to give him a better angle, allowing him to hit different areas you never even knew you had. you moaned as he continued his pace, head thrown back in pleasure which semi found extremely sexy. it stroked his ego to think of the fact he alone was able to bring this reaction out of you, he alone was able to see the side of you. as he continued pistoning in and out of you, he found you clenching tighter and tighter around him, a sign he came to realize meaning that you were close. with a few pleasurable thrusts, you came undone around him, coming on his cock and arm sling around his neck, moaning beautifully against his neck.

he continued to thrust in and out of you, chasing his own high.

"wanna feel- inside-" you babbled, a groan leaving semi at your words, coming inside you and filling you with his seed. after all, who was he to deny you?

with a final thrust, his collapsed on top of you, his now softened cock still inside you and plugging up your hole, keeping both your and his cum inside you.

"so good f'me," semi murmured, peppering soft kisses against your neck that caused you to giggle. "can i make a confession?"

exposing more of your neck to him, you spoke up breathlessly, a quiet yes slipping between your lips as you started to drag your fingers through his hair, pulling softly at his his hair each time he kissed an especially sensitive spot.

"i'm in love with you, have been since i first laid eyes on you," he murmured, looking up into your now wide eyes before softly kissing you on the lips.

"i think i'm in love with you too," you whispered against his lips, a moan surfacing after your words as you felt his teeth digging into a rather sensitive spot on your neck as if in response to your submission.

"then marry me?" semi questioned, causing your eyes to shoot open as you stared at him with wide eyes.

"b- but you're still married," you sputtered. "and what about your fans? and aiko? and what about-"

"shh," semi murmured, silencing you with a finger to your lips. "i'm in the process of getting a divorce, it's just been taking a long while because that woman has been refusing to meet with our lawyers. my fans don't need to know anything, you will be my secret, i don't want to share you with anyone. as for aiko, we can talk to her if you wish, however she has said she approves of us so long as i don't hurt you, which i could honestly never do. you're too precious to me, i could never see myself hurting you, angel."

"so she threatened you, too, huh?" you murmured, almost to yourself though semi was able to just barely catch your words, a laugh escaping him as he realized aiko had used the same threat for both of them. "relax, i want this, i want you, and nothing will stop me from getting you. i will even chase you to the ends of the earth if i must."

"i want you too, eita-san," you whispered, pulling him down to connect your lips and his in a passionate and heated kiss. if he wasn't carefully, his softening cock would surely become erect again, especially considering your current intimacy. he was, after all, still inside you.

"so then do you accept?" semi questioned happily, peppering kisses from the corner of your lips to your neck where he gave you a fresh hickey.

"i do accept," you responded, a moan escaping your lips as he continued to leave hickeys along your neck.

needless to say, that night was very...busy, though aiko had been none the wiser to what was going on because true to his word, semi had in fact soundproofed his room.

it wasn't until the next day that aiko found out about the proposal, not that you or semi had said anything about it. if it hadn't of been for the large rock on your left ring finger, she would've been left in the dark until you and semi had decided to break the news to her. but the moment she saw the ring, she let out a high pitched screech which had alerted you and semi to her presence as she rushed from the doorway of the kitchen to your side where you sat on the island, not even taking notice of the fact you wore a large shirt that belonged to semi that covered your shorts.

"you- my dad- he- i- you- when-" she stuttered, picking up your hand as she studied the ring on your finger.

you and semi simply shared a loving look over her head, both of you smiling softly as semi responded that you'd made it official last night. if aiko had seen that look, she might've walked out of the kitchen in mock disgust, however her attention was too focused on the ring.

"actually, aiko," you spoke up softly, watching as your best friend continued staring at your ring. "we were hoping you would keep this a secret between the three of us."

"of course, but do you mind if i ask why?" aiko questioned, finally taking her eyes off the ring to look between you and her father.

"we have three reasons," semi responded, continuing to make breakfast for the three of you. "the first being that i'm still not divorced yet, so if she was to get word of this, she could use this to get even more undeserved attention."

"yeah, that sounds like something she'd do," aiko muttered under her breath.

"the second reason being my manager would have a fit," semi continued as if aiko hadn't spoken. "he was adamant on my keeping up my image of being a happily married man with a happy family. however recent events have persuaded him to allow my divorce and now he wants to sell me as a recently divorced bachelor with a kid to appeal to...other crowds. or something, i don't entirely understand what goes through his twisted mind."

"what a questionable manager you have," aiko muttered, moving to sit beside you on the island to read your twitter feed over your shoulder.

"the final reason is because, well, i don't want to share y/n with anyone," semi finished, sending you a loving look to which you blushed at, aiko silently gagging beside you.

aiko was quick to hop down from the island when she noticed semi walking towards you. she really didn't want to be in the room when you guys started kissing, that was a sight she would much rather live without so she stole a piece of toast from the plate semi had set the finished pieces on before she headed out to the dining room, calling over her shoulder for them to hurry up with their lovey-dovey shit so they could eat.

semi responded with a comment for her to be patient as he stood between your thighs, hands resting on the island countertop beside your thighs to cage you in and give you a kiss. you giggled into the kiss, arms flying around his neck to pull him closer to you, chest to chest as he moved his hands from the island to your ass, pulling you to the edge of the counter to pull you flush against him, tilting his head slightly to deepen the kiss. before the kiss could get any more explicit, you pulled back slightly, giggling as semi tried to chase your lips, though you kept pulling back, always barely out of his reach so that you could catch your breath.

"aiko's waiting for us, let's go eat," you whispered to a playfully annoyed semi who refused to allow you to move from his hold.

"she can wait, i cannot," semi growled, eyes narrowing at you as you continued to giggle.

"the food will get cold," you responded, not backing down. "besides, we can continue this after breakfast when my best friend isn't in the room next door."

"i agree, listen to her," aiko called from the dining room that sat adjacent to the kitchen. "besides, i'm starving so hurry up dad."

"what a cockblock," semi muttered as he pulled away, causing you to burst into laughter as you hop down from the island, collecting plates and cutlery that you would need for your breakfast while semi trailed behind with the food, all the while muttering about how he'd pay aiko back, just she wait.

the rest of that morning passed into afternoon where aiko soon left the house to meet with her boyfriend, leaving the newly engaged couple to continue what had been started in the kitchen.

needless to say, that summer break passed in a blur and you were reluctant to part ways with semi for another four months, the only thing pushing you to go being the promise of your secret marriage happening during winter break, as well as the promise of a spot in semi's bands dance group so you could travel with him during tours after you graduated in a semester.

— 2023 ⓒ ensemblesmile, do not repost or translate my work. comments, likes, and reblogs appreciated

[hanniiesuckle17]

Chapt. 03

A/n: I’m so sorry guys that this series has been all over the emplacements with posting times. But my life is slowly coming back together and I’m enjoying writing more and trying to get back to it so!! I also apologize for any misspellings or grammar mistakes I didn’t have time to edit this! Here we gooooo!!! Tag List is Open <3

Tag List: @ashisparanoid @mini-meanhoe @leggomylino @doolsetnet @desertofdessert-blog @hoes4hoseok @mrsunshine999 @jisungsjheekies @hannie-squirrel00 @cotccotc @yangs-jeongin @binniebutter @orangegyu @little-precious-baby @raethethey @sofie296 @bluejayboys @bunnyjaycheoluwu @mingiholic @doom-fics @justhere4kpop @honeyhotteoks @star-hrts

C. L. Tag List: @realrintaro

Pairing: Jisung x Reader x Seungmin

Genre: SMAU, Series, College AU,Love Triangle, Comedy, Fluff, Drama, Smut, Best Friend AU, Slice of Life AU, YouTuber AU

Schedule: Not Scheduled ATM

Warnings: Cursing, Partying, Substance Consumption Including Alcohol and Cannabis, SMUT (Choking, praise, teasing, dirty talk, safe sex, blowjob)

Synopsis: Timing is everything. Sometimes it’s the right person and the wrong time and sometimes it’s the right time but nothing is going your way. Life revolves around this college friend group as everyone is intertwined in fate. Time will only reveal the ending.

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : 03. a little more atmosphere

Y/n’s Pov

No matter how many times you had been to the frat sectors of your campus you could never get over how normal the houses looked. Other than the size of the houses it looked more like a regular neighborhood. White, gray, and blue houses lined the streets with inviting lights along the sidewalks. Further down you could see a good sized group of people lounging and gathering in the front yard of a house.

There was a cool wet breeze in the air. The kind that felt gentle on your skin. Your little group made its way down the street. The three of you: Nadia, yourself, and Felix, had taken a shuttle to this side of campus with the knowledge that none of us would be able to drive home. To be honest Hyunjin, who was already at the party, may have already pressed the company to do a pre game round before coming that left a fluttery nice cloud over your thoughts.

There was no doubt where Sigma Chi’s pledge event was happening. The music could be heard two doors down. It was highly likely it would cause no issue considering that the neighbors were also probably attending the party.

As you entered the house you were swallowed by rhythmic music, bodies, and colorful dancing lights bouncing around the room. This was definitely not your first frat party not that you would tell your parents. Your eyes surveyed the scene and easily found Jisung slightly elevated with his mix set up. There were a few guys chilling with him behind his set up, clearly enjoying the party.

It sometimes slipped your mind that your best friend was almost a local celebrity. Then again it also rarely crossed your mind that someone might think the same about you. It still felt weird that Jisung was always asked to DJ the parties on campus because of his radio show’s popularity.

His eyes met yours and quickly were overtaken with a smile- a bright grin that reached every part of his face. He waved before holding his hand up as if asking you to stay still. Felix and Hyunjin were still trying to get the group situated so you saw no problem and waited. Jisung dipped his head and adjusted some of his equipment.

It was as if his vision tunneled and channeled on you as he watched you expression change. The almost instantaneous joy on your face never failed to make him feel proud of himself as he switched to your favorite anthem. It was something he did only for you and no one else.

Your body jumped up and down to the beat- hands in the hair. Jisung started jumping along with you and the small crowd in the house immediately started getting hyped like it was foreign club.

Someone tapped your shoulder. You turned finding Seungmin’s friendly face. His hair was a little messy from the party atmosphere put everything else about him was clearly meant to flatter. The black button down he wore lay perfectly on him accenting his frame.

His hand smoothly slid from your shoulder to your hand. Gently he lifted it and encouraged you to twirl to the music for him. It was hard not to admit the action made you feel a little warmth on your cheeks. It was either that or the shots were kicking in.

As you finished your turn he pulled you into his chest and leaned down so you could hear him over the music. “You look really good, Y/n.” His long fingers hesitantly adjusted your top layer of clothing.

Seungmin greeted the rest of the group and you all headed out back onto the patio. As you stepped outside your shoulder brushed a giggling blonde haired boy. “Oh sorry-“ you said turning back to look at him. The boy had a half finished blunt in his mouth, lazy smile on his face. He had a funny pair of sunglasses falling low on his nose and his attention trained on the girl who was holding his hand behind him. The boy’s other hand was holding an entire bottle of jack.

Seungmin laughed and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Woah there bro,” He looked between you and apparently his fraternity mate. “Jeongin this is, Y/n.”

His eyes widened and a massive smirk grew on his face. His fingers adjusted the bottle of alcohol so he had two free fingers to reach and pull the joint from his lips. “Oh yeah- dude, she’s Jisung’s friend right?” Seungmin looked a little annoyed that’s how you were being introduced as. “Hey, boo. Yo- you ever want something hit me up I’ll give you the Jisung’s friend discount.”

The boy didn’t even wait for your hesitant smile response and he turned away dragging away the girl in tow behind him. “So-that our newest recruit, Jeongin.”

“What a colorful gentleman,” you mused with a laugh as Nadia handed you a drink.

The evening rolled on in a happy blur. The music was good and always the perfect vibe, though you would expect nothing less from your best friend. You enjoyed the time with your friends, everyone drinking and having fun. Occasionally a game would come up to play but eventually everyone would fall back to your lounge spot and just talk for hours.

You were lounged on a patio couch outside, Seungmin’s leg resting over yours as he took up the rest of the couch. A nice rosy glow painted his cheeks. Felix couldn’t keep a giggle from bursting out which made you burst out laughing for a reason you could not even remember.

Feeling the need for another drink you tapped on your friend’s leg, which he immediately lifted. You stretched and offered refills before heading into the house towards the kitchen.

The party had taken a turn as the hours had grown late. Instead of the thundering base the house was now filled with a sound that made you feel suspended in pleasure. The colorful lights flowed in tune with the music and the rooms were collecting clouds of smoke hanging in the air like chandeliers.

Making your way past several people in the kitchen you found the island counter which was covered completely in bottles of liquor and mixers, coolers, and ice. A plethora of bad choices. How lovely!

Your hand instinctively went for the rum and you began pouring a drink to your liking. The air shifted and you felt a familiar presence enter behind you. An echo of laughter followed him in the room. His eyes immediately met yours before grabbing a random cup from the counter and drinking from it.

“Are you enjoying the party?” He leaned on the counter next to you, head tilted with his little impish grin.

You rolled your eyes with slight smile that did not go unnoticed by Jisung. “I just wish it had a little more atmosphere, you know.” Hearing the sarcasm drip from your lips had the boy pushing himself off the counter and puffing his chest and stepping up close to her.

“Oh yeah- you wanna fight bro-“ He stopped when he heard you collapse in a fit of giggles and his arms instantly came to rest on your elbows making sure you hadn’t lost your balance. “Nah that’s not me, honey. I’d atmosphere the shit outta this place.” Jisung filled the rest of your cup, knowing just how you like your drinks. “Changbin’s giving me a break.”

You nodded, sipping on the bubbly concoction. “Makes sense,” you replied, leaning against the counter shoulder to shoulder. “No wonder everyone is basically fucking.” The two of you looked around and laughed before tapping cups and taking a giggly shot.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Jisung turned and nudged your shoulder. “Hey- you wanna get some air?”

“I’ve got some in my lungs already but I could always use some more.”

“Ass.” Jisung said with a laugh, his hand resting on your lower back as he guided you to the front of the house.

Twinkling stars and fluffy clouds emerged as you exited the frat party and followed the sidewalk in the front yard. There was a step in the path and Jisung comfortably plopped himself down there as if it was the comfiest seat on the block. The ground a was a little wet as it had just begun to rain- more like a mist, gently kissing your warm cheeks.

Cans and party favors littered the grass around us. The air smelled fresh and new, something you always loved about rain. The part still roared on inside the house, Changbin’s music seeping through the walls and onto the street. Occasionally colored lights would flash through the windows and catch in the tiny droplets of rain like crystals.

There was a small group of college students chilling out with drinks on the porch. Whispers of their conversation floated to your little spot but neither of you really cared to listen.

After taking a drink, you pulled your phone out to see the night had already come to almost three in the morning. “Ooooo the witching hour,” Jisung joked shaking your shoulders. After he let go he set his drink down in the grass before pulling something out of his pocket. “Do you mind?” Jisung asked placing a joint between his lips.

You shook your head and took a sip from your drink and watched as he lit and took a deep draw expertly inhaling before gentle pools of smoke floated out of his nose with a sigh. His eyes lazy opened and met your gaze before he offered you a hit.

Shaking your head you said, “I’ve already had a bit to drink.” He nodded and leaned back on his elbows before tilting his head back and taking another deep hit. You could almost see the point where a nice little daze came over his eyes. A beautiful funnel of smoke came from his lips straight up into the air.

“I forget- do you smoke, babe?”

He giggled as you shrugged. “Nah, I mean…One time- Felix and I, we made these like pretty sick edibles.” It was impossible not to remember how fun that night was. Jisung let out groan, hands covering his face, before he shot up and came only inches away from your face.

Your eyes widened as you looked and him and the grip on your cup got a little tighter. He had a lazy smile on his lips as he whispered, “Fuck- make me edibles, Y/n.” Something about the way he said your name had your hazy mind tripping over itself.

“Uhm-…”

“Dude- that would be the best high ever! You’re food and- fuuck, Y/n.” Jisung grabbed your cheeks and squished your face. He looked at you for a second, clearly feeling the effects of the smoking blunt in his other hand. “So do you wanna try?”

You giggled as his arm slid behind your back and he leaned into you. This side of Jisung was all too familiar. “How does it always end up like this?” You ask pushing him away a little.

“Like what?”

“You teaching me to do all kinds of shit like; you taught me how to kiss, and you taught me how to sneak out and all that other stuff.”

He laughed and flicked your forehead. “Your fault for hanging around a bad influence.”

“Somehow my parents think you hung the moon.” Jisung held your gaze before looking to the joint and back to you. “You kinda wanna teach me don’t you?”

He grinned, pushing his slowly dampening hair from his face. “Kinda a lot.” You nodded and took the blunt from his grasp. He watched you eagerly as you brought it to your lips. “So you’re going to want to suck and then inhale. But think of it more like a helium balloon than a straw.”

You felt a sweet smell float into your nostrils that somehow felt like pepper. The back of your throat burned a little as you breathed it in. After a second you couldn’t help but cough.” He laugh at how cute he found you. The watering in your eyes and scorched remnants of your throat spoke volumes that you were quite the opposite as you continued to cough.

Gently Jisung patted your back before ruffling your hair. “That sucked balls.”

“How do you know what balls taste like, bitch?”

Rolling your eyes, your fingers brushed your friend’s hand as you passed back the joint. “Not for me, I’ll stick to edibles.”

“Which you will be making me soon by the way," his words were ever so slightly slower letting you Jisung was definitely feeling good right now. You nodded and let him lean his head against yours. Suddenly the mist gently floating onto your skin became heavy droplets and both you and Jisung sat up at the feeling.

With squinted eyes your friend turned to you and said, “My car’s right over there- you wanna?”

“Yes, please!” You shouted as the rain began to pick up just enough to be uncomfortable.

Jisung pulled you up and tucked you and his still lit joint under the shield that was his arm. Quickly the two of you shuffled through the shower to the gray sedan that he had been driving since high school. The lights flashed through the weather as the backseat door was flung open and your best friend ushered you inside.

Once you were safely enclosed in the vehicle, you watched his slender form jog around to the other side of the car before climbing in with you. “Did it go out?” Jisung asked, clearly referring to the joint he had handed to you at some point.

Lifting it, he smiled seeing the tiny golden embers still burning. “Niiice.” Jisung then reached between the front seats and turned on the car before cracking the back windows ever so slightly so the smell of the rain would float in and the future heavy smoke filled air would flow out.

While he was adjusting things, you were busy getting comfortable having brought your slightly rain filled drink with you. Jisung handed you his phone, a habit of his whenever you were in his car. It was the only time he would ever let you play your own music.  “Yeahhh I’m gonna ruin your buzz with death metal music.”

“Y/n no- that is so not the vibe pleasssse,”

“You handed the phone and with it the power. Kisseth my ass.”

“Bend over.” Jisung had a lazy smirk on his face and you were happy that the car was dark except for the colors coming from the dashboard a small world away. Suddenly the backseat felt much smaller than it did before. 

Obviously he was joking, but that did nothing to stop your already pink cheeks to flush even more. “Fine, I’ll pick good music.” From the way your voice got softer Jisung could tell you were blushing. He leaned back into the corner of the door and the seat and took another draw before blowing it gently out the window, savoring the feeling of the smoke leaving his body. 

He watched you scroll on his phone, letting his unfiltered thoughts float freely as rain pelted the roof above. Maybe it was just he hadn’t seen you in a week, or maybe all of the smells around him seemed fresher, but something magnetic was drawing all his senses towards you. 

When music softly starting coming from the surrounding speakers, you looked up to find Jisung already looking at you- a loopy smile on his face as his fingers rolled the blunt back and forth between his grip. “What?”

“I’ve missed you,” He said, brushing his nose and pulling your legs into his lap.

There was no helping the goofy giggle that came out as you were now feeling the effects of all the shots that were taken earlier in the night. “You just saw me the other day!” The handsome boy shrugged and you felt him absently rub his palm up and down your calf. You were almost certain he was not even aware of his actions. For just a second your head dropped back on the seat and you let yourself get lost in this perfect atmosphere.

“Yeah- but I mean I wanted to hang out with you at the party tonight,”

“Yes, the party you were working?”

He laughed once again drawing patterns along with the music on your leg. “Hey if I’m drinking I’m not working. Why didn’t you come up to the booth and chill?”

There wasn’t really an answer. Not one that Jisung would like anyway. Jisung didn’t have anything against Seungmin, but the two always ended up butting heads on something. “Well, Seungmin was the one who invited me and it is- in a way- his party,” The boy rolled his eyes before turning to look at you with a smile. “I’m chilling with you now though!”

“Who's more fun, me or the kappa boy?”

“You were just playing their pledge party. How do you not know the name of the fraternity?” You could feel yourself struggle to string together so many sentences that long in a row. “It’s Sigma Chi.”

Jisung’s lids hung low over his eyes as he laughed. “Whatever, admit that I’m more fun already!” He whined. Without another word, you told him exactly what he needed to hear, if only to shut him up. There was nothing that made you happier than being with Jisung even when he was being an ass. In fact when he was being an ass you found him the most loveable. It was one of the hardest things about having a crush on him.

Clearly the effect had set in on Jisung, but it didn’t take him long to notice every so now and then you would sneak a glance at him messing with the joint. “Do you want to try again?” He asked with such patience you didn’t expect that it made your heart skip a beat. Remembering the awful burning sensation you vigorously shook your head no. The tiny bit of fear in your face made Jisung laugh. He was always going to be the stoner out of you two. He also had no doubt that you were probably getting at least a small contact high from the lingering smoke. That was what gave him the idea.

Jisung normally had zero filter and thought about nothing before he said it. So, of course this instance was no different. “Do you want to shotgun?”

“Like get in the front seat? Why?”

Your best friend burst out laughing, slapping the side of your leg in his lap. “Bro- no,” Jisung’s laugh was contagious and between him and the slow feeling of inebriation, it didn’t take long for you to laugh along with him. “Hold up- let me show you,” Jisung turned so he was now facing you and he gave your ankles a tug, silently asking you to come closer.

Scooching across the backseat of his car, you came face to face with your friend. You had been this close before many times but it always made your heart race. “You like Harry Potter right?” Jisung questioned in a funny accent that made you giggle. “Okay, so- hey! Eyes on me!” He jokingly scolded you for getting slightly distracted by a group of people running outside behind him. “So, you’re gonna pretend like you’re a dementor sucking out my soul.”

“What soul?”

He rolled his eyes with a smile and brought the joint up to his lips and you tried your hardest not to let your gaze linger there. With gentle hands he brought your face even closer to his own. Once he had a mouth full of smoke, Jisung tapped your cheek with his finger and you parted your lips slightly. Suddenly you were very aware of your surroundings and even with the rain and the music it felt very quiet. You watched in fascination as the smoke gently billowed from his lips towards your own. Not exactly sure what you were doing, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

You could feel the smoke as it scratched the back of your throat leaving a tingling sensation behind. There was still a burn in your nose but it almost felt like someone had just sprinkled too much pepper on their food. When you opened your eyes, you found Jisung still holding your face, his eyes trained on your lips.

A tension hung in the air as rain pelted against the car windows. Your friend looked at you with heavy eyes, dozily fixating on his finger as it moved to brush and trace over your lips. You felt your skin come alive as you simply held as still as you possibly could while he gently traced over your features. “Jisung?” His eyes brought themselves back into focus but he made no effort to move any amount of distance away from you. “You good?”

“Oh-I’m fantastic.” You could feel his hand ghost over your shoulder before it dropped into your lap. “This is the best high I’ve had in a while.” His other arm reached up and laid itself across the top of the backseat. His head flopped onto his arm as he looked over at you with his brown doe eyes.

“I’m feeling pretty nice too,” You giggled, resting your head on the seat and enjoying the floaty feeling engulfing you.

A goofy smirk played at the corner of his mouth. “You wanna feel even better?” Before you could ask how or why Jisung’s lips were on yours. Oh this was a terrible, awful, stupid, irresponsible idea. That thought went out the window when you felt Jisung pull you closer to him by the back of your neck. He grinned as you returned the kiss with an equal passion. College was for bad decisions right? This was definitely a mistake that would feel so...fucking…good. You pulled away to set your drink in the door’s cup holder and Jisung chased after your lips. “No, where are you going?” He almost whined. “Come back to me.”

You gasped as his grip got a little tighter around your throat. By what some might call a happy accident you had turned into his hand, his thumb moving to the other side of your neck. He smirked, giving the soft skin in his hands a gentle little squeeze as he turned your attention back to himself. “That was really fucking cute.” You stayed frozen in his grip completely enamored with the way he was looking at you.

Jisung had a curious grin on his face, almost as if you were a peculiar new toy for him to play with and explore. “Well- who taught you that…”Instead of pulling you back up into his lap your body was twisted and pushed down into the car seat. You were very aware of his knee brushing up between your thighs as Jisung looked at you from above.

Mesmerized, your eyes tracked the swing of his silver chain. A gentle tug of your chin brought the focus back onto him. You were completely enamored with the way he looked at you with his pretty face. It was a struggle for your brain to function as you tried to find a better word to describe how happy looking at his face made you feel in that moment other than…pretty.

His smile dripped away into a sly smirk as he said, “Mmm, now I’m curious what other things you do.” You giggled as his lips tickled their way down your neck and playing with your shirt. “Hey- that a cool sweater why don’t we,” Jisung joked before pulling your top over your head. The second the fabric revealed your face he captured you in a giggly kiss that made your noses bump together.

You felt a cool touch against your very hot skin and for a moment you didn’t even care where it came from that it felt so good. Had you opened your eyes the sight would only have made your legs squeeze tighter than they already were. Jisung was latched onto your neck and chest while his other hand sneakily has made its way past the barrier of your pants.

And then, all of a sudden, you felt a weight on top of you that cause you to groan and then laugh. “Oh my god- Ji- what was that!”

“Sorry my wrist gave out,” He giggled making no effort to relieve his weight from your chest.

You slapped his shoulder “Here, get off of me.” With little contest, Jisung pushed himself up and reclined in the backseat. With lazy, happy eyes he watched as you crawled into his lap and the between his legs on the floor. His pretty brown eyes tracked the way your hands moved up and down his thighs. “Better.”

In the backseat it was hard to see but you watched his eyes darken as you smiled at him. He watched with a raised brow as your bottom lip was pulled by your teeth. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you what else I do,” You reached up and smiled as you started undoing his pants. For a moment he let you feel him, the cloth underwear providing you a hint of what you had only guiltily dreamed about.

“Hey- wait gimme a sec…” Jisung said nervously laughing and pulling your hands into his own.

Your brows furrowed and the silence between changing songs seemed to last a little longer than you had noticed before. “What’s wrong?” He seemed to notice you begin to second guess yourself.

“Dude- I don’t let anyone see me half soft.”

“Jisung we’ve taken baths together!” You said between giggles as you rested your arms on his thighs.

“Yeah, but we were five! Just shush- trust me I don’t need long.”

Sighing, you rested your head on his thigh and looked up at him. His senses zeroed in on the gentle touch and tap of your fingers on his leg and you were so close that he could feel the soft brush of your breath against him. He watched the way your lips absentmindly whispered the words of the song playing in his car. When you noticed him staring you gave him a little smile, leaning your head deeper into him.

“Yep-that’ll do it. Come here. Now.” He leaned down and pulled you to meet him for one last steamy kiss. Eager to prove yourself, you parted and gently pushed him back in his seat. His eyes widened and a weighted sigh left his lips as he felt your tongue wrap around him.

It was easy to take him simply because the sight of him enjoying your mouth made it water immensely. It was as if every little sound and move from his beautiful face made you want to live only to experience this. His hand very quickly found purchase at the back of your head, twisting your hair between his fingers. “Fucking hell…” he breathed, hand covering his eyes.

Jisung pushed it back into his hair only to meet your eyes as your lips quite literally popped off his dick. Your stomach twisted and your thighs begged to squeeze together as you attempted to hold eye contact with him. It was hard but somehow the hazy fog in your brain gave you the confidence. “You mind if I get more comfortable,”

He shook his head and smiled as you came face to face with him again. With a curious grin, he watched you slide your pants free from your legs and toss them in the floor. The consequences of this would be great, so now was the time to make it worthwhile. Your knees came to rest on either side of his waist, pressing into the backseat. A cool breeze from somewhere in the car ghosted over your lower back as you slipped your hand past your underwear and felt a smooth wet sensation coat the tips of your fingers.

Jisung let out a low moan as the same hand gently wrapped around him coating his length with the soft feeling. His own hands tried to pull you closer to his lap. “Why so far away?” Jisung smirked, his lips coming dangerously close to yours.

“You got a condom, then?”

“Back pocket.”

“Really, Ji, that’s kinda gross,” you giggled, as he lifted the two of you a little so you could reach.

He nuzzled into your neck leaving open mouthed kisses in his wake. “It’s only for emergencies just such as this.” He captured your lips in a kiss that made your body melt as you pulled the wrapper out of his wallet. “This definitely qualifies as an emergency.”

You listened to the soft music and rain pelting against the window as Jisung slipped on the condom and pushed the fabric of your panties to the side. Slowly, you began dropping your hips down onto him and let your eyes flutter closed.

Eagerly, Jisung tried thrusting up into you before he had even fully bottomed out. It made you smile and sink down onto his lap. A low groan came from beneath you and his hand wrapped around you almost in a hug. Your heart was beating thousands of miles a minute wrapped in his embrace feeling everything you had to offer each other.

A shiver crawled down your spine as Jisung’s hand trailed down your back and twisted your underwear in his hand- tugging it away from your soft skin. It was so easy to completely fall into the steady rhythm the man below you was setting. Your fingers rooted and twisted in his hair as a soft moan left your lips.

“Do it again.” Jisung smirked and started putting more intention behind his movements. Stuck in a happy cloud, you complied and let every sweet sound fall loose and into the air hanging heavy around you. “Fuck- I’ve never heard a sound like you…” he groaned, letting his head fall back.

Seizing this opportunity of the weakness, your lips attacked the beautiful skin of his neck. With hooded eyes you watched each little twitch of his face as you kissed and bit down his chest. Jisung wasn’t as vocal as you had imagined, but hearing his baited breath and raspy groans had you breathlessly grinding against his own thrusts.

His long fingers pushed your focus back to his brown eyes before capturing you once again in a kiss. Remembering the oh so sweet little trick from earlier they then gently wrapped around your neck, squeezing the sides. A shaky whimper was cut off in your throat.

You opened your eyes to see Jisung staring at you with that goofy, mischievous smile that made every inch of your body feel happy. His other hand was pressed firmly on your lower back before you felt it move up and start to undo your bra.

Whether Jisung’s body count was higher than yours or not, you knew it would take more of his focus to remove that article of clothing than it would be to stop you from doing whatever your wanted. You let your hips move and bounce a little and almost instantly you could feel his body react under you.

He had only managed to undo one of the hooks, and now was simply trying to pull the straps down your arms. Jisung could do little to keep his arms from going limp, fully succumbing to how amazing you felt around him. His eyes closed and his head dropped onto the seat behind him.

The streetlight cast shadows through the drops of rain still falling on Jisung’s rear window. The shadows rested on his cheek and lips making you want to do nothing but touch them. Leaning down, pushing his hair away from his forehead, you kissed him. Though his body was relaxed, Jisung returned the kiss fervently.

“Keep going,” he rasped against your mouth.

The idea of you basically fucking yourself on his dick in the backseat of Jisung’s car would have made the everyday ‘you’ red up to the ears. Yet here you were, desperate to listen to the quiet sounds he made as you used him.

Regaining his composure Jisung tried to move your underwear that had shifted back and was rubbing against the two of you. Each attempt had him frustrated in both the best and most aggravating way. After giving up with it, you felt a sharp but lazy smack to your ass.

“Jisung-“ you moaned against him.

“Mhmm if you keep going like this I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

You could see the windows quickly building up with steam as your bodies moved in sync. Coming down just in the perfect way, you gasped and let loose a starved moan. Every very small amount of sense was shook loose from your brain. A kind of euphoric feeling was coming over you.

You hardly gave a fuck about getting off. It was going into this, the furthest thing on your mind. The universe had glitched and this wasn’t supposed to happen but here you were pulling on your best friend’s hair as he was desperately trying not to cum so soon. His muscles were tensing and his breath became short and quiet. His face beautifully twisted in pleasure. Jisung’s arms wrapped around your waist and back in tight hug that begged for you to keep going.

“Fuck, yes- Y/n, just like that, honey…” he groaned. You could feel that familiar knot forming at the pit of your stomach. That wonderful warm tension. “Oh- fuck,” his voice trailed off in glorious moan that had you clenching around him.

Quickly his hand reached down and held you against him, pushing him deeper than you expected to go. Then that tiny little ball tightly twisting in your stomach floated apart in the wind and left you in shaky feeling of ecstasy. All you could do was melt into his arms with a whine.

Jisung’s chest heaved as he stared up at you. You had no time to be embarrassed about exactly how of much your own wetness you both were in. He held your gaze as his hand rubbed up and down your back before tangling in your hair, bringing you down for a breathless kiss.

⇄ ◃◃ II ▹▹ ↻

C. L. M.List

Masterlist

[alatismeni-theitsa]

I really really hope I don't end up coming off as rude in this, but I found your account from the Hades tag (the game--which I suppose I don't really have the same negative feelings for, both because I'm neither greek nor religious and thus am very disjointed from the frustrations expressed ) and seeing as the designs were the main talking point (I know I'm oversimplifying her I'm so sorry if this comes off as rude) I was curious as to what would be a respectful depiction of Greek mythology. Greek mythology has always been something I enjoyed reading about, but knowing that a lot of my exposure to it has been heavily westernize one way or another, I was wondering if I could ask for I guess more insight? I might not share the same feelings (due to again having grown up unreligious and thus trying to compare how I might feel if my own chinese mythology was given the hades treatment isn't exactly far becaue to me they really are just kinda like prompts in my mind--though I'm not sure how wrong it is for me to think like that) I do wish to understand it because your culture religion and mythology isn't a prop. It deserves the same respect every other culture/religion has/is getting. sorry for the lengthy ask, but it's perspectives like you're I want to hear more about though I've struggled to really open up to them because often time the discussions felt hostile (that said I am conflict adverse so this is probably a me problem.). On a final side note (and this is definitely where I am about to sound really stupid/bigoted but I really have to ask because my conscious will not leave me alone about it) but would it be ignorant for a person such as myself to find enjoyment from a game such as Hades less because of it's mythological roots though they are a factor and more for the story it's decided to tell (for what is honestly when I really do think about it) using the greek mythology "props"? Like enjoying it seperate from the source material?

Hello and apologies for taking so long to answer! Two consecutive hours where I exist undisturbed is very rare in my life during this period, so please, again, forgive me for replying a month later. 💜💜💜

A second anon question I got about the same issue:

I appreciate both of you for asking. Identifying the problem in the context of your situation, and what you don't know is a great step forward (and I am very sorry I wasn't able to respond to you earlier). For those who don't know, this blog, despite the salty content, is all about peaceful discussion and understanding.

I think answering the first anon ask will also cover the first. Let me start with one point and elaborate on the rest:

"On a final side note (and this is definitely where I am about to sound really stupid/bigoted but I really have to ask because my conscious will not leave me alone about it) but would it be ignorant for a person such as myself to find enjoyment from a game such as Hades less because of its mythological roots though they are a factor and more for the story it's decided to tell (for what is honestly when I really do think about it) using the greek mythology "props"? Like enjoying it separate from the source material?"

Neither I nor any other (sane) Greek would like to police people in a way of stopping their enjoyment of media. Like other Greeks, I have also played Hades and liked it. I believe we can enjoy the present media and still advocate for better media in the future. We can all be more aware, and push for gods and heroes to be treated like the cultural figures they are, and not as products of late-stage western capitalism.

Greek gods and heroes cannot be separated from their culture and still be the same since they no longer carry their stories or embody the same values. (This goes for every cultural figure.) What would be the point of Heracles if your only exposure to him was that "he is an ancient strong guy who kills monsters"? There is a whole story to him beyond that, what makes him "Heracles", a hero that Greeks hold as a symbol even in our days. Without his story, he's no different than an average modern American superhero.

To the first anon: If you were to explain any Chinese hero or deity to me, you would still need to explain all the "surrounding" elements, like the world domains, the monsters, what is "respectful" and what is "not respectful" to do within the context of the Chinese culture. You wouldn't just drop the figure in question and expect me to understand everything, right? And for this reason, I don't think it would be fair to this figure and the Chinese audiences to just drop this figure separated from Chinese culture in a super American setting. As you suspected, it would leave a bad taste in the mouth of religious and non-religious people who know this figure.

There is some effort from Western media to incorporate these elements into their stories but it's done superficially through the classic Americanized lens. This doesn't allow the audience to feel these values and stories within a different context. The producers will do anything so (mainly Western) audiences don't feel alienated by exploring a foreign culture - but this entirely misses the point of exploring a foreign ancient culture.

I don't want to be entirely absolute here and say that no modernized depiction of these figures is good. It was even a fresh take a few years ago but now the market is so saturated with this presentation that even the audience who "loves Greek myth" is only exposed to this, and misses all the nuances of the ancient Greek context.

To its credit, the Hades game incorporated some ancient elements successfully (the gods offering their favor and getting vengeful when ignored, or having their own "human-like" interactions without getting reduced to the presentation of "petty humans"). This is more than what most westernized media has achieved but I still feel we only got crumbs compared to what we could have.

For me and some other Greeks, the game would be considerably elevated by the use of actual Greek culture, in addition to its cool story. By "actual Greek culture" I mean ways of interaction, clothes (not just the standard white chiton), music, etc. It looks like most western media fears that the Greek gods inside their culture will be "too foreign" for their audiences, which treats the audiences as if they're dumb and frustrates the already tired Greeks because god forbid we ever are "too foreign", "too unapproachable" to rich/western foreigners.

As always, depictions of heroes and gods from other cultures should be kept. The very recent phenomenon of westerners just deciding to "re-paint" the Greek gods Nordic pale or West African dark - according to their social sensitivities of the time - is a decision they took alone and without any consultation of Greeks. It's a decision that treats the Greek gods like props, as well, precisely because people of the original culture were never asked, and they are negative about this type of change. This decision was taken with the same brass the western colonizers used these same figures to set harmful standards for the colonized peoples and other nations they deemed "lesser", like the Greeks of their time themselves.

As we are not expected to change Maori, Chinese and Congolese gods' appearance (symbols, clothing, phenotype (or "race" as it is in some countries)) same goes for Greek gods. We grant all gods this standard because we recognize that they're - among other things - symbols of the overwhelming majority of the indigenous people of their land. Many USians mistakenly equate Greeks with the Western colonizers and the US culture, a thought that feeds their ownership attitude which I've spoken about many times in the past and i won't elaborate further on, for the sake of your sanity xD

Finally, if one struggles to place the Greek gods in the context of an actual religion, I think it would help them to read ancient hymns for the Greek gods (which are widely available online, in English at least) so they can see firsthand the veneration they were/are worth to their worshippers. Reading plays like the Bacchae or Alcestis, or parts of the Iliad and the Odyssey where the gods are present will show the magnanimity of the gods within the religion.

I'd also encourage them to recall examples of being present when their family or friends expressed veneration towards a deity (be it the God of Abrahamic religions, the Chinese pantheon, the Hindu pantheon, and so on) and try to imagine the same veneration towards the Greek gods. Studying Greek Orthodoxy is another way to understand this veneration. Since many ancient Greek elements remain in our Christianity, in it one can find many of the old type of respect. (Saint veneration replaced the deities' worship, the Greek type of offering worship, prayer to a home altar with offerings, road altars, funerary customs and processions, etc). If one is already familiar with Christianity this study would be a good middle step, in my opinion.

Having the context for each Greek myth figure one uses can be challenging but big studios should be able to hire specialists and offer proper representation. "They want the pie whole and the dog full", as we say here; they want quick profit with the least possible effort. They know that if they just name-drop some stuff western audiences will believe they have done deep research because previous media never invited them to engage deeply with the Greek heritage.

No culture is "uncomplex" and "easy to learn". Ancient Greek culture, like all, needs significant study to fully grasp. People should not expect to know it all after one Wikipedia reading. There's always more to learn and more context to be understood. The good news is that if you speak English and have an internet connection, translations and analyses of ancient Greek texts are super accessible to you.

It shouldn't be expected from all people to become experts but if one "loves Greek mythology" and their knowledge is PJO level, I am sorry but this person doesn't really know what they "love". A decent amount of study, at one's own pace, will enrich and deepen engagement with the Greek myths. Once you gain more knowledge, you understand why it's needed.

For the second anon's question, "What would be a proper representation of a Greek god", I have mostly answered it in the above paragraphs, but I would also like to add something culture-wise. Since the Greek gods in the media can exist in various eras, one should not divorce them from the Greek element. The Greek gods are an expression of the ancient Greek collective, therefore it wouldn't make sense for them to have lost all touch with Greek ways of thought and attitude. If they were Americans, they wouldn't be WASPs, or Native Americans or Black Americans. They would be more like First Gen Greek Americans. They would love (to a healthy degree) and mention their culture because that's where they came from and that's what they represent.

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Oh oh!!!!! Can you do prompts about "Language"!!!

Been wanting to write a language related fic for months but can't think of any cool ideas :(

Best regards,

@heroes-villains-side-blog

Ah, apologies for the delay, I’m not always online.

Anyway, let’s see what I can do:

Language

There’s yet another prophecy about doomsday, but it’s encrypted/in an ancient language. Time for Hero to ask for Renowned Linguist’s help once again, aka Villain under their secret identity.

Superhero claims that Citizen’s body language shows that they were lying during their interrogation. They’re not. They just really, really don’t want to be here.

Hero and Villain are the only two who can speak a dying dialect. Reluctantly, this brings them together.

Same idea, but they’re absolute nerds and speak Vulcan or Elvish fluently.

Hero&Sidekick (or Villain&Henchman) share a second language the other team don’t speak. It’s great to yell messages at your ally that your foes can’t understand.

Hero and Villain don’t speak the same language. They need Henchman/Sidekick to be a translator to understand each other. The translation might or might not be accurate.

Villain has captured someone who knows things, but speaks in a language they can’t understand. They use an online translator. Confusion ensues.

Villain has captured someone who knows things, but speaks in a language they can’t understand. They kidnap Sidekick to force them to be a translator. Sidekick tries to communicate with Citizen and find an escape plan together without getting caught.

Villain’s Evil lair has a great gadget able to detect any kind of human voice to detect any intrusion. Shame that Hero speaks ASL, then.

Once captured, Villain has a lot of four-letter words to say about the way the heroes treat them. Hero whumps them into watching their language.

I hope these can be useful to you! (I'll keep your other ask for later.)

*

More prompts like this under this tag.

Back to Hero x Villain Masterlist

[suguwu]

lover be good to me: part two

You meet Kita Shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. You know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. He seems like a good man. Like a good soulmate.

But it’s your wedding day.

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

<- part one - part three ->

pairings: kita shinsuke x f!reader, oc x f!reader

notes: and part two is here! i am once again so excited to be able to share this fic with y'all. thank you again to everyone who has sat thru me yelling at them about this fic—it means the world! and a special thank you to my beta for getting through this beast and getting it into tip-top shape <3

title and part title are from hozier’s “be” and “nfwmb”

tags for this part (contains spoilers for fic): soulmate au (first words), this is a very reader-centric story, slow burn, pining, hurt/comfort, reader and kita are implied to be around their 30s, non-graphic partner death (not kita), anxiety, borderline panic attack, food consumption, love as a choice.

wc: 16k

Shinsuke almost catches you.

You’re still whirling around to run, a jewelry box ballerina wobbling in place desperate to stay on her feet, when his fingers graze your wrist. They’re warm. Callused. They trace along the delicate skin there, sending sparks skittering beneath your skin.

His fingers flex, start to close around your wrist.

But they don’t.

They fall away, until there’s only the ghost of him lingering on your skin. He speaks too, his steady voice almost pleading, but your thrumming heartbeat is filling your ears and echoing inside you, a wild hymn of instinct.

His touch falls away and you’re through the shoji before you realize where you’ve gone. You whip past your friends, their shocked expressions blurring at the edges like watercolors, and into the hallway. 

It hurts to breathe.

You dart into one of the shrine’s empty tea rooms, chest heaving. You slam the shoji shut behind you and sink to the floor, your shiromuku pooling around you, gleaming like moonlight in the dim. You knot your fingers in the fabric. Your fingertips brush over the heavy embroidery, over the graceful sweep of a crane’s wing, and your grip tightens. 

Your chest aches, a bruise of a thing; the red string of fate wound fast around you, your ribs its spindle, cinching tighter with each passing moment. The world wavers. 

You come back to yourself on the other side of the room. You’ve shed your shiromuku; it’s in the middle of the room, an empty husk; a cocoon broken open too early. Your next breath is shaky.

Faintly, you can hear people rushing through the hallway. Their voices wash over you like waves on a distant shore. You bury your face in your hands.

You don’t look up when the door opens. Abe and Yoshikawa have always been able to find you, no matter where you hide.

The door shuts, and then—

“Hi,” Takao says.

You go stiff.

“Hi,” you say, refusing to look up. 

You feel Takao settle next to you; the fabric of his kimono is soft against you. He sets his hand on your knee. He’s warm, as always. It’s the soft heat of freshly washed sheets, of the spring sun’s tender touch. You curl into him. 

It feels like home.

Quiet falls. It settles between the two of you like the night, a shroud of your own making. Takao leans back. He sighs; it sounds like it comes from between the gaps in his ribs, from the very depths of him. 

It sounds like saying goodbye.

“Please don’t leave me,” you say, and you sound small even to yourself.

“I think that’s my line.”

You wonder if the words taste as bitter as they sound. If they linger sour on his tongue. Takao seems to realize it at the same moment, but he doesn’t apologize, and you don’t ask him to.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you say. 

He hums skeptically, low and resonant, and it chips away at your bones, scrapes you down to your very marrow.

“I’m not,” you insist, low and desperate. You barely recognize yourself. But you want to keep Takao, to keep this man you’ve spent years learning, spent years loving. Leaving him would carve you open and Kita may be your soulmate, but even the most careful stitches can’t always keep a wound shut. “We said it didn’t matter.” 

“We did,” he says. “But I think it might.”

“He’s a stranger, Aoshi,” you say. “I don’t know him, not the way I know you. Not the way I love you.”

“It’s different, though, isn’t it?” he asks. “With soulmates.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” 

“But it is.”

You swallow down the sob.

He shifts next to you, giving you more space to curl into him. You take it, burrowing into his side and pressing your face against the soft fabric of his haori. He sighs.

“Do you feel—” he starts. You can feel the way the words rumble in his chest. He stops and runs a hand through his hair; he blows out a big breath. “Do you feel connected to him?”

You bite at your bottom lip. You remember Shinsuke in the sea of silken hydrangeas, the deep blue of them eddying around his legs like the tide as he moved through them. You think of how your eyes had caught on him then. How his companion had faded into the background. 

How well you’d known the taste of his name on your tongue.

“I don’t know,” you say. 

“Yes, then.”

“I don’t know, Aoshi,” you snap. “I don’t know anything except that we were supposed to get married today and now it’s all—”

“Fucked,” he says when you trail off. “It’s all fucked.”

You nod, sniffling miserably. 

“I think we need some space,” he says.

“From?”

“Each other.” 

You pull away from him.

“What?”

“I think we need some space from each other,” he repeats. He’s not looking at you, his dark eyes focused straight ahead, as if he can see through the shoji and find all the answers right there. 

You want to shake him.

“I don’t need space from you,” you bite out. “I need you.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he says. “I need space from you.”

“Aoshi, what? Please, I don’t understand.”

He blinks. His eyelashes are wet; they’re clumping together. There’s a stray one caught on his cheek like a dandelion seed. You catch yourself before you reach for it.

“You have a choice to make,” he says. “And I don’t think I can watch you do it.”

“My choice is you!”

He looks at you, then. He looks at you, his eyes night-sky dark, and there is something terribly tender to him when he says, “I don’t think you know that yet.” 

You sob. 

It’s pulled from somewhere deep inside you, an animal sound that you didn’t know you were capable of making, something that lives behind your bones. It guts you, that sob, flays you open from neck to navel. 

Takao sucks in a sharp breath. His hand flexes by his side. You sob again, softer this time, but no less wounded for it. 

“You’re not being fair,” you tell him. 

“Neither are you.”

You grit your teeth, wondering if there’s such a thing as fairness, in a moment like this. You think it’s unlikely. 

“You don’t get to make my choice for me,” you snap.

“There are no choices being made today,” says a new voice, and you close your eyes as your mother’s perfume wafts around you. She smells of summer irises and the honeyed earth of saffron, and you breathe her in as she gathers you into her arms.

You curl up into her, a child once more, and start to cry in earnest.

“Go,” she says to Takao. If she says anything else, you can’t hear it over your own sobs, over the great, gasping breaths wracking your body. 

You feel Takao leave, the warmth of him fading away, and it takes everything you have to not reach out to him. You sob again, choking on his name.

“Oh, tadpole,” your mother says. She presses a kiss to your temple. “Let him go for now.”

“I’m supposed to be getting married,” you tell her.

“I know, tadpole.”

“Why is this happening?”

She cradles you close. “I wish I knew.”

“You said—”

“I know.”

“Mama,” you murmur. “Mama, what do I do?”

“I don’t know, tadpole,” she says, and you feel one of her hands shift to press against her stomach, to cradle her own soulmark’s blackened kanji. “I don’t know.”

You turn your face into the crook of her neck and cry all over again.

She hums to you, soft and soothing, but lets you cry your fill. She pets at your back, her strong hand firm, keeping you grounded in your own skin. 

Your sobs have just started to abate when the phone rings.

It cuts through the heavy air of the tearoom like a knife. Both of you jolt with it, and you furrow your brow. It’s a classic ringtone, the one all phones come with, and you immediately know whose phone it is.

You push yourself up and out of your mother’s arms glancing to where your shiromuku still lays, a collapsed chrysalis. You chew on your lower lip but go to it, kneeling in front of the beautiful fabric and picking it up carefully until you can see Shinsuke’s utilitarian flip phone. It jingles, the ringtone continuing, and you reach for it with trembling fingers.

Miya Osamu, the lit screen reads. 

You sit with the phone cupped softly in your hands, your pulse thrumming. You trace a finger over the edge of it. 

You flip it open before you can convince yourself otherwise.

“Hello?” you ask.

“You picked up,” Shinsuke says.

You suck in a sharp breath. You had known, but it’s so different hearing his voice. The steadiness of it, even though the edges of it sound worn down. 

“I did.”

“I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Me neither,” you confess. 

“Are you alright?”

 You close your eyes. This would all be so much easier if he wasn’t good. But you know he is—you can hear it in his voice, in how earnestly he asks.

“Not really,” you say. The least you can do is give him the truth. “I assume you need your phone back?”

He goes quiet. You listen to him breathe and something in you aches, like a healing bruise being pressed. You wish you were better, that you were kinder, that you could handle this with grace instead of inelegantly side-stepping it. 

“Yes,” he says. “And I’d like to talk.”

You bite your lip. “Yeah,” you say. “We probably should.”

The two of you agree to meet in the tearoom in thirty minutes which is good, because even with your shiromuku shed, the kimono you wear is clearly wedding garb. It’s beautiful in its simplicity, stark white and painstakingly stitched, and you desperately need to be out of it.

It’s your mother who helps you disrobe, her fingers careful as she unwraps the pristine obi, the gossamer fabric as delicate as a spider’s web gleaming in the low light of the room. You stare out the window as the attendant takes it and folds it up for storage. She’s glancing at you occasionally, her dark eyes wide, and you wonder what she’ll tell the people she knows. How she’ll spin the story of your misfortune. If she will tell it as a blessing instead.

The obi is followed by the kimono itself slipping from your shoulders like water, and your mother brushes a hand against your cheek before she hands you your street clothing. She and the attendant leave you to remove the rest yourself. You leave the nagajuban pooled on the floor as you dress. 

Once you’re dressed you wander over to your kimono, carefully hung next to your shiromuku. The attendant has smoothed most of the wrinkles from the silk, and you trace a finger over the long lines of it. 

You wonder if you’ll ever get to wear it again.

By the time the attendant returns to retrieve the garments you’re sitting by the window, staring out into the pouring rain. The lush plants of the courtyard—heavy, ruffled ferns with massive fronds and vining shrubs with blossoms like little stars dotted between verdant leaves—sway under its touch, dancing to a tune that only nature knows. 

Behind you, the shoji clicks open and shut.

You turn around.

Shinsuke gives you a soft smile. It’s wan, but there’s still a sweetness to it somehow. His hat is gone; his gray hair gleams silver in the light, the black tips all the darker for it, and you think again of thunderclouds. 

“You’ve been crying,” he says, his brow furrowed, and that almost sends you into a fresh wave of tears. 

You let out a watery laugh. “A bit,” you admit. “It’s fine, though.”

He watches you, those vulpine eyes shining. He clearly doesn’t agree. 

“Here,” you say, reaching out. “Your phone.”

He moves closer and takes it from you with quiet thanks. He lingers there and you bite your bottom lip, trying to figure out what to even say to him. 

“I’m sorry for running,” you say.

He smiles, soft and sad. “I understand.”

“I just—I don’t even know where to start.”

“That’s alright,” he says calmly. “We have time.”

We. He says it so easily. Your stomach roils.

“I can’t,” you say. “I can’t do this.”

Shinsuke’s expression doesn’t change, but he’s different suddenly, like a guttering flame finally blowing out. You swallow down a sob. 

“I understand if you need space,” he says. It’s barely there, a wisp of a thing, but there’s pain in his voice. “I know this isn’t easy.”

Your laugh is wild at the edges, an unraveling stitch. “If we’d met an hour later, I would have been married.” 

His fingers flex. 

“I just—” you catch yourself as your voice cracks. Your lips are tingling; you bite down on the bottom one to make it stop. “I can’t do this right now. Please. Shinsuke, please.”

The tilt of his lips is edged with sorrow. “It’s fine,” he tells you. “We’ll trade phone numbers for now.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

He nods. You trade phones, his fingers sweeping over your palm. They’re callused, rough against your skin, and you feel the ghost of them long after he’s drawn back. When you take your phone back, you’re careful to keep from touching him. 

Kita Shinsuke, his contact reads, and you can’t help saying it aloud, letting your tongue roll over each inch of his full name now that you know it. 

Shinsuke—no, you think, he’s Kita, stranger that he is to you—smiles. He says your name too, his voice soft like the spring sun. Your stomach churns. 

“Thanks,” you say, drawing back into yourself, curling up like a fern frond. “We’ll—we’ll talk soon.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, but he must see something in your face because he simply nods. There’s something you can’t quite understand tucked up secret in the corner of his mouth. 

“Alright,” he says. “Soon.” 

He glances back at you once, just before he disappears into the hallway. 

The shoji has barely clicked shut behind him when it’s opened again and Abe and Yoshikawa tumble into the room. They sweep you into their arms without a word and your knees give out. They cradle you as they lower you to the floor, and Yoshikawa hums quietly as you knot your fingers in their kimonos. 

“C’mon,” Abe says, the gentlest you’ve ever heard her. “Let’s get you home.” 

“Aoshi’s not there,” you sob. 

Yoshikawa’s grip tightens. 

“That’s fine,” she says, as steady as the sun’s rise, “because we will be.” 

***

You wake to sunlight streaming in through your window. It cradles you like a lover, plays gently over your face, and you wrinkle your nose. 

“Aoshi,” you grumble, “you forgot to close the curtains last night.”

There’s no response.

You crack an eye open, peering to the other side of the bed only to find it empty. When you press your hand against the worn cotton sheet, it’s cold. 

It all comes pouring back in, a riptide of memories washing over you like a stormy sea. 

“Oh,” you say quietly, curling up so that your knees are pressed against your chest. You blink back the tears. “Right.” 

The sunlight thickens, pools like molten gold around you, and you turn your face up to it, a winter flower searching for warmth. You don’t know how long you stay like that; you’re only roused by the faint sound of clattering in the kitchen followed by the purr of your coffee maker. The scent of it fills the house, and you put on your house slippers.

When you enter the kitchen your father is snipping away at your neglected bonsai, trimming the needles back with careful, sure hands. He glances up at you. 

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi,” he says. “You’re terrible at taking care of this.” 

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, putting down the pruning shears. “Did you sleep?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good.” 

“Yeah,” you say, and quiet falls. 

His lips have a faint downward tilt as he watches you, like a waning moon. He sighs, thumbing at the soil of the bonsai. There’s a flash of his soulmark, blackened into a charcoal smear, a gravestone all its own. Your eyes catch on it.

“Did you love your soulmate more?” you ask. “Was it better with her?”

“Oh, tadpole,” your father says. He comes over and takes your hand, squeezing it lightly. “It was different. Not better, not worse. Just different.” 

“But did you love her more?”

“I loved her differently.”

“You keep saying that, but what does it mean?” you ask, pulling away from him. “Either you loved her more or you didn’t!” 

He sighs. “It isn’t that easy,” he tells you.

“It is!” 

“It isn’t, tadpole.”

“It has to be.”

“It’s not black and white when it comes to soulmates,” he says gently. “You know that.”

“I want it to be,” you whisper. “It’d be easier.” 

“It would be,” he agrees. “It would be.” 

“I don’t know what to do.”

He sighs. “You don’t have to know, not right this minute.”

“What if I never know?”

He hums, picking up the pruning shears again. He brushes a soft hand over the bonsai tree, tracing over a winding branch, his fingers reverent against the old bark. A few blue-green needles come loose, pattering down to the counter. He sets the pruning shears against a branch and the blades flash, catching the light as they come together. He catches the little branch as it falls. 

When he looks up, he looks right past you. You think of early morning mist, how it swallows a person down.

“You will,” he says.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. His gaze flickers to you and when he smiles, it feels like something you aren’t meant to see.

The coffee pot gurgles. It breaks the spell and your father’s smile warms at the edges, smoothing out the tender gash of his mouth. 

“I made it the way you like it,” he says. “I thought you might need it.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I think I do.”

You’re halfway through your first cup when your mother emerges, already fully dressed for the day. She looks you over from head to toe and her face softens, goes sweet at the edges. 

“Did you sleep?” she asks.

You nod.

“Good.” 

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“The shrine,” she says.

You wince.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Take care of what?”

“There’s a soulmate clause in the contract,” she says carefully. “They’re required to refund you. Mei is meeting me though, and she thinks the clause is loosely worded enough that she can get them to hold a different day for you instead, if you’d like. It’ll likely be a less auspicious rokuyo day, but—”

“But if I marry Aoshi, it might be the best I can get.”

She nods. “At least you’ll have options.”

“I guess. Mei’s going?”

Mei is an old friend of your mother’s and one of her prime sources for her study, a veritable treasure trove of data. She’s made for the courtroom, tiny and calm and whip-smart, and her grasp of soulmate law—tricky at the best of times, highly scrutinized as it is—is unparalleled. 

“Yes,” she says. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.”

She comes over to you and cups your cheek. You lean into the touch, into the saffron scent lingering on her skin. “You aren’t alone, tadpole,” she murmurs. 

You close your eyes. “I know.”

She pats your cheek lightly. “Good,” she says. 

You miss her warmth when she pulls away. 

She takes her purse from your father; they murmur to each other. Your father leans forward to press his forehead against hers and you look away. 

The door clicks shut behind her, and your father starts to hum, low and off-key. The quiet, off-beat snick of the shears accompanies him. It’s like being a child all over again, and you settle into the hazy familiarity of it. 

The morning stretches on. Yoshikawa and Abe appear during your second cup of coffee, and they drag you out to the new cafe you’ve been meaning to try. It’s a creperie filled with hazy pinks and soft greens, the warm air scented sweet. The three of you squish into a small booth as you have so many times before.

They keep you busy, plying you with sugary crepes dipped in rich, thick chocolate and decorated with fresh, perfectly red strawberries. They’re cut into little fans, pressed softly into the chocolate, almost like small flowers in the dough. The three of you peel them out of their paper cones, licking at your fingertips like little kids. You swap flavors, trading bite for bite.

You close your eyes as you reclaim your own crepe from Abe, sinking into the taste of it, letting the sugar wash everything away. Abe laughs, loud and bright, accompanied by the low purr of Yoshikawa’s voice. You let the sound of them encompass you and wonder how you ever got so lucky.

You check your phone as you leave the creperie. You bite at your cheek as your phone screen comes to life, Takao’s little smile carving out a piece of your heart. It’s an old photo from when you first got together, and it’s still a favorite even after all these years. 

Abe takes your free hand and squeezes it softly. She doesn’t say anything, but then again she doesn’t need to. 

There’s still no message when you go home. Dusk is falling, the last fingers of sunlight playing across the horizon, and you hesitate on your own doorstep. Yoshikawa coaxes you inside with a firm hand on your back. When you glance back at her, her dark eyes are sharp but kind. 

Once you’re inside, you can’t decide what is worse: Takao not being home, or the fact that he was. His favorite jacket is missing from the closet; his to-go mug isn’t by the coffee machine. One of the dresser drawers is still cracked open. 

Yoshikawa and Abe talk to you, but you can’t quite hear them. They bundle you onto the couch and stay until late, when you finally shake the cobwebs from your thoughts. Abe bites her lip when you shoo them out the door, but she goes without a fight. 

The house is quiet as you get ready for bed. The bed feels vast, too big for just you. You reach for your phone perched carefully on the nightstand, untangling the charger from the trailing vines of the pothos it’s by so you can pull it closer. You squint against the brightness, texting Takao a simple good night.

He doesn’t reply.

You hadn’t known the living could haunt, but you go to sleep curled up around a ghost. 

***

You go back to work. 

There’s still days left of your soulmate leave, but you need the distraction. You ignore the quiet whispers and bury yourself beneath a new project. Caught up in your work you float through the day, only coming up for air when your phone vibrates. You snatch it up each time, but it’s only stray notifications—a news alert; a pop-up saying that the recipe blog Yoshikawa likes updated; your IC card balance. 

It’s never what you want it to be.

It carries on for two days; each day you wait for the ping of Takao’s text, but you receive nothing.  On the second day you wrap up your day late, staying behind to finish off a few notes on the new project. It’s not as if you have anything better to do.

The sun has set by the time you’re on your way home. The city has bloomed into a neon wonderland, little shocks of color blazing through the night. You watch a black cat scuttle across the sidewalk, its fur glinting fuschia from the nearby izakaya’s sign.

Your neighborhood is quieter but it still has the hum of the city to it, a familiar song. There’s a sweet scent on the breeze, courtesy of the night-blooming flowers that coat the building next to yours. You trace your fingertips over a delicate petal. It’s silken against your skin, and you sigh, turning to your home before coming to a quick halt. 

Golden light is slanting out your kitchen window. It pools warmly on the ground, and you suck in a harsh breath, almost running to your door. It opens with a click. You step inside and for a moment, the genkan looks undisturbed. But then you see Takao’s shoes tucked carefully into the getabako; his house slippers are missing. There’s a quiet rustle from the kitchen’s direction.

You slip off your shoes and drop your bag into its place.

“Hello?” you call out, wincing at how timid you sound. 

The rustling stops. It starts again, and Takao rounds the corner just a few seconds later. 

“Hi,” he says shyly. “You’re home late.” 

“Worked late,” you say. “You’re back.”

“I am.”

You’re across the room in seconds, and he wraps you up in his arms as you barrel into him. 

“Please stay,” you say, knotting the soft cotton of his shirt up in your fingers. You can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest. Something in you warms. “Please.”  

He cups the nape of your neck, the warm span of his palm soft against the tender flesh there. You breathe him in, still nestled in tightly against him. 

“You didn’t respond to me,” you murmur. 

“I said I needed space.” 

“It was just a good night text.”

“Let’s not do this,” he says. 

Something in you wants to drag it out. To make him hurt the way you hurt. But you bite back on that part of you, swallow the poison down. 

“Are you staying?”

He sighs and you go very, very still. 

“I am.”

You slump into him with a sigh of relief. He cradles you close.

“You scared me,” you tell him. 

“I know.”

“Don’t do it again.”

“I’ll try not to.” 

“Good.”

“You know, this is what I was afraid of, all those years ago,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss against your hairline. “That I wouldn’t be able to let you go if your soulmate came. And that I’d have to worry about you leaving me.”

“How many times are you going to make me say it?” you ask, gritting your teeth. “I’ve told you, I’m not leaving you.”

“You might.”

“We’ve been together for years,” you say, pulling back so you can meet his dark eyes. “He’s a stranger. He wants an idea, not me. Not really. So no, I’m not.”  

He sweeps his thumb over the apple of your cheek. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to.

You kiss him then, a featherlight brush of your lips that lasts for just a breath before you pull back. He cups your jaw and chases you. He kisses you again. Deeper, more solid. When he pulls back, you open your eyes and look at him.

“I’m not, Aoshi,” you say. “I know. Trust me.”

He watches you. His eyes remind you of a summer’s night, encompassing and pitch-black, but warm. Always warm. He searches your face, his gaze so intent that it feels physical.

He nods.

You let out a low, soft breath.

Now you have to talk to Kita.

***

It takes time.

Your work’s soulmate leave is generous, but Kita is at the whim of his farm. The rice paddies don’t care about soulmates nor do they pay attention to weekends. And devoted as he is, he heeds their call, nature his kindest mistress.

It makes you think of Toyooka. You know the song of the fields, the rustle of the rice in the countryside breeze, an age-old tune that’s sunk into the soil. This close to harvest the verdant fields go Midas-touched, gilded with the sweetest hint of gold.

You wonder what Kita’s farm looks like. If it looks like the summers of your youth. If he sits on the engawa in the hot months, eating crisp watermelon down to the white bone of the rind, juice dripping sticky down his fingers. If the taste curls thick on his tongue, sweet with the countryside’s unique freedom.

He’d offered his farm as a meeting point early on, but without a car it’s too far. It’s too personal as well. He’s sown into the soil there, living in each grain he’s tended to. You think his hands were kind against the rice shoots, his long, thick fingers careful as he planted them. 

It’s too much, the idea of being surrounded by him. 

Your home is out of the question because it’s not just yours. 

You couldn’t do that to Takao, not when he’s stitched into every seam of your home. He’s in every atom of it—the slight imprint of his form in the memory foam mattress; his toothbrush, half-flattened by how hard he brushes, tucked neatly into a cup by the sink; the photos that line the walls, a tapestry of silken years woven together. 

It’s also the one thing Takao’s asked of you.

(“Don’t bring him here,” he says one night, his voice flat. 

You pause in the middle of drying a dish. He holds out the next, still soaked to the point that it’s dripping on the floor, and you hurry to finish. It almost slips through your fingers when he lets it go.

“I wouldn’t,” you say fiercely, even though you’d thought about it for one brief second. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Okay.”

“Do you think I would do that to you?” you ask him, setting the dish onto the rack. He hands you another, and you take it without thought. 

Takao blinks. He turns to look at you, and his expression is beautiful and terrible, a tender underbelly flayed open.

“No,” he says. “I don’t, not really. I just want this home to have always been ours. Just ours. I just—wanted to be sure, I guess.” 

You reach out and cup his face, cradling it between your palms. “It is,” you tell him. “It’s just ours. It’ll always be ours.”

He considers you. “Good,” he says, and he catches your hand in his. He turns his head; he presses a kiss against your palm. It’s devout, that brush of softness from his lips against the ley lines of your skin, as if he’s an acolyte at your altar, laying offerings at your feet.

The two of you press together for a moment, the warmth of his lips searing through your skin to settle in your bones. You take up his hand and press your own kiss to the center of his palm. His eyes go half-mast, and you can feel his smile against your skin. 

He pulls back. Squeezes your hand softly, and then he’s turning back to the sink, already reaching for another dish. 

You stand there for a moment. Your hand has gone cold without the heat of his skin. You flex your fingers, trying to make sense of the dread creeping over you. 

Takao glances at you. He smiles, sweet and fleeting, a dandelion tuft caught in the breeze. For a breath, you’re in high school again, gazing at a boy you’ve never spoken to but spent hours with, the two of you balanced on a precipice. And then the past fades, until you are left with who Takao is now. With who he has become to you.

You smile back, and then take the next plate he hands you.

It’s easy, after that. He washes, and you dry, a rhythm you’d know anywhere. Takao is swaying, humming along with the radio, and he laughs when you start to sway with him, your hips bumping each time. 

He doesn’t bring Kita up again.)

With both your homes off-limits, you’re back to square one.

Finally, Kita decides to drive to you. 

You choose a little coffee shop on the outskirts of the city, both to shorten the drive for Kita and for its familiarity, a cradle of comfort for a conversation you’ll never truly be ready to have.  

It’s a charming place, more rustic than modern with little wooden tables and shelves draped with plants, their lush vines hanging down behind the counter. It’s always warm, the sunlight streaking through the windows to paint the counters golden. The shop is studded with flowers too, bright buds spilling over the lip of water pitchers in a froth of color. Coffee is heavy on the air but a note of sweetness threads through it, a sugary bite of fruit. The pastries are made in-house and you know they’re sinfully good, little melt-in-your mouth slices of heaven. 

You’ve eaten three since getting here. You’re on your second drink too having gulped down the first one—scalding your tongue in the process—so quickly that even the barista had seemed surprised. 

It’s your own fault, really—you were almost a full half hour early. With nothing to do but wait, you’re all tangled up in yourself. 

The woman tapping away on her laptop in the corner pauses to eye you warily as you shred another napkin. You’d folded this one into a lopsided origami bird before beheading it. You send her a polite smile; she turns back to her laptop without a word.

You try to make another origami animal but you can’t remember any other patterns. You could make an army of birds you suppose, but after the fifth one you run out of napkins. When you consider getting more, the look on the barista’s face keeps you in your seat. You slouch down into it, your cheeks warm.

You look up just as Kita enters, the little bell at the top of the door chiming quietly. He finds you instantly, his amber eyes settling on you as soon as he’s through the door. He smiles, warm like the spring sun, his eyes crinkling with it. 

He’s as handsome as you remember, leanly muscled with broad shoulders and casually graceful as he walks to your table. In the cafe lighting his gray hair goes silvery, bright against the black tips of it, and you think of a moon being eclipsed.

“Hello,” Kita says, holding out a hand when you start to get up. “S’fine, you don’t need to get up.”

“Oh,” you say, caught awkwardly between sitting and standing. A smile drifts across Kita’s face like a summer breeze, a quick, soothing thing. You cough and sit back down. “Hi.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment. He’s watching you, drinking you in, and his eyes remind you of a sunlit forest, of the way the sun’s rays drip down between the trees like honey. It aches, the way he looks at you. It’s soft and sure. Steady and open and earnest.

Kita looks at you like you help make the world make a little bit more sense.

His gaze flickers down to the tabletop, and that same small smile blooms on his lips. 

You suddenly remember your mini-army of origami birds, including their headless leader. You fight the urge to close your eyes in mortification.

“You should order something,” you say, fidgeting with your cup. “Their coffee’s nice.” 

“Alright. D’ya want another?” he asks. “I’ll get it for you.”

You shake your head. “No,” you say. “Thank you, though.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you say, and he nods.

When he goes to the counter to order you hurriedly sweep the remains of your shredded napkins away, wincing as they flutter into your purse. Some of them stick to your sweaty palms, and you rub them vigorously against your thighs until they curl up into little paper pearls. They patter to the ground quietly. You send out a quiet mental apology to the cafe workers.

“You alright?” Kita asks. He settles down across from you and you envy his assuredness, how serene he looks.

You nod, not trusting your voice.

He eyes you for a moment, those golden eyes all too knowing. But he doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to wind his hands—lightly tanned and slender, with a constellation of small scars scattered over his skin—around his cup.

It’s tea, you think, the faintest hint of it reaching your nose, and it fits him in a way you can’t quite put into words. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he takes a small sip and you look away. 

“I’m glad we could meet,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say, already wishing you had another napkin to shred. “I think it’s important to talk.”

“It is, but I just wanted to see you.” 

He says it so simply. Kita speaks with the surety of the sun’s rise; he means every word he says. There’s a sweetness to him that could only come from earnesty. He leaves no room for doubt.

You break in the face of it.

“I can’t be with you,” you blurt out.

He goes still. The smile on his lips fades. “What?”

“I can’t be with you,” you repeat. 

“We’re soulmates,” he says, and it’s the most rattled you’ve ever heard him. His fingers flex. He looks lost, those amber eyes hazy, and you think of the morning mist, how it swallows down the sun. There’s a tiny quiver to his lips.

“I know.”

“We’re supposed to be together,” he says.

You ache for him.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out. “But that’s not enough. I can’t leave him. I don’t want to leave him.”

Kita’s quiet. The silence stretches on. And then—

“You love ‘im,” he says softly. 

You nod. 

“You’re happy?”

You nod again.

Kita leans forward and cups your cheek. He skims his thumb over your cheekbone, a careful glide. It comes away wet, his skin salt-kissed, and you lean into his calloused palm.

He wipes away another tear. His touch has the same aching tenderness of a fresh, swollen bruise. 

“Okay,” he says. “I can live with that.”

That quiet, easy capitulation makes it worse. You can see he means it; it’s reflected in his eyes. If you’re happy, that’s enough for him. 

Your stomach hurts.

You sniffle, pulling away from his warm touch and wiping at your eyes. Your cheeks are hot, and they get hotter as you see a few people glancing your way. Kita lets out a slow, deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, staring down at your coffee cup. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” 

It’s not an “it’s okay,” but you suppose that would have been asking for a lot from him. You look at him from underneath your eyelashes and find that his amber eyes are distant, like the sun at the very edge of the horizon. 

You wonder where he’s gone, and then think that perhaps it’s best that you don’t know. You fidget with your cup. The porcelain of it scrapes against the table, and Kita’s eyes clear. Still, they’re not as keen as they usually are, and you shift in your seat. He takes in a soft breath, a whisper of a thing, and then his eyes flicker to you. 

“I’d like to stay in contact with you,” he says. 

You jolt, almost knocking your cup off the table. “What?”

“I would rather have you in my life.” 

“Shin—Kita, that’s not fair to you.”

“Please call me Shinsuke.”

You ache for him, something bone deep that no salve will help subside. “That’s exactly why this isn’t fair,” you say gently. “You’re going to want more than I can give you, and we both know it.”

“I know,” he says. His eyes are keen as they flicker over you; the tilt of his mouth makes you look away. “And I’m sorry. But I won’t ask anything of you, except for this.” 

“Kita—”

His fingers flex, but he doesn’t correct you. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” you ask. Your hands are trembling; the words are sour on your tongue, the lemon tang of a promise that’s going to hurt. 

“Yes,” he says, steady as stone.

You sigh. “Okay,”  you say. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

You nod, toying with a sugar packet as he sips at his tea. You fold and unfold the edge of the package, until the paper starts to wear thin, a few tiny crystals of sugar spilling loose to plink against the table. 

The silence that falls is heavy, weighing you down like an anchor. There’s the quiet background noise of the cafe: the chatter of the barista and other customers, the soft tinkle of the bell as someone else enters, the hiss and purr of the espresso machine, but it seems distant. 

“I’m gonna go,” you say abruptly. “I think that’s for the best.”

You’re already starting to gather up your things when Kita stands. “It’s okay,” he says. “You should stay. I need to be gettin’ back to the farm anyway.”

“You just got here,” you say helplessly. “You drove all this way.”

He glances at you. His expression is complicated; you can’t quite parse it.

“I drove here for you,” he says gently. 

You open your mouth and close it again, a koi-like gape. You sit down slowly, settling into the booth again. He picks up his cup of tea—still piping hot, little wisps of steam rising from it like smoke—and gives you a little smile that doesn’t quite reach his striking eyes.

“Get home safe,” he says. 

“You too,” you say faintly.

You watch him leave, the way each of his steps is steady and sure. You don’t think you’ve ever known someone so at home in their own skin. But there’s a curve to his shoulders now, the broad width of them collapsed inward. It’s minute but it’s there, and your stomach roils again, a sour brew of emotion welling up in you. 

He pauses to ask the barista something; she gives him a to-go cup and watches as he carefully pours his tea into it. He hands back the other cup with a little nod of his head. 

The cafe door clicks shut behind him, bell chiming, a clear, porcelain sound that cuts through the chatter of the cafe. You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands, choosing instead to look down into your nearly-empty cup. The dregs of it are dark, and you wonder if your future is written out in them. 

You blow out a soft breath and scrub at your face with your hands. When you glance up, the barista is carefully not looking your way. To avoid seeing the way her lips have twisted, you glance out the window into the haze of the mid-morning sun, still spilling golden over the tiny parking lot. You immediately balk. 

Kita’s still there. 

He’s in his truck, half-hidden by the glare of sun against the windows, but you know it’s him. You can’t see his eyes, but you can tell he’s staring straight ahead. His mouth is a thin, tight line. You chew on your lower lip.

One hand comes up to scour beneath his eyes. It comes away with a wet sheen catching the sunlight and shining bright. You wince, glancing away.

You stare down into your coffee cup again. When you down the last of it, the dregs of it, it’s sharp and bitter on your tongue.

It almost erases the heavy, metallic tang of guilt.

Almost.

***

Your phone pings.

You grab it without looking away from your monitor, typing in your passcode one-handed as you mutter the last line of the email to yourself. You flick the notification to pull up the text without checking the name and pause.

It’s a picture of the rice fields, rippling in the breeze like a current, the stalks going gilded as harvest draws closer. Beyond the sea of them there are rolling hills of green with only a few power structures—standing tall on their metal legs as they reach into the sky—to mark a human presence. It’s all framed by the bluest sky you’ve ever seen, filled with puffy white clouds that you think are likely being whisked along by the breeze. 

It’s so vivid you can almost smell the fresh air. 

There’s also only one person that could have sent it to you. 

Trying to keep in contact with Kita has been an exercise in awkwardness. You feel bad but you’re trying to figure out how to temper it, since you’re caught between what you know he wants and what you’re capable of giving him. 

To his credit, Kita never pushes. You suspect that he prefers calling—he seems the type—but he mainly texts, following your lead. 

(“I feel like I owe him this much,” you tell Takao one night, when Kita has texted you while the two of you are curled up on the couch watching a movie. 

“I don’t think you owe anyone anything,” he says, but he never asks you to stop.)

There’s still a hint of stilted awkwardness to it, but it has gotten better than it was. 

It’s stunning, you text back. It reminds me of summers in Toyooka. 

He doesn’t reply until dusk is settling, but that’s not unusual considering how diligent he is with his farm. You reply quickly, bored with the TV show you’ve been watching as you wait for Takao to pick up dinner, and the two of you fall into conversation. 

He asks about Toyooka and you tell him. You tell him about catching summer fireflies and playing in the fields with Abe. You’re about to tell him about Abe’s duckling that followed her everywhere one summer when you realize exactly how long of a paragraph you’re sending. 

Before you can second guess yourself, you delete the paragraph and send a different message: I think this might be easier as a call.

I’d like that, Kita replies.

You hit call, knowing you’ll balk if you give yourself time to think. 

He picks up instantly.

“Hello,” he says.

“Hi,” you say, a little awkwardly. “How are you?”

He chuckles, but it’s kind. “I’m good,” he says. “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“That’s good,” he says. Silence falls for a moment. It’s not a comfortable one, and Kita shatters it by saying: “You were talking about your summers in Toyooka?”

“Yes,” you say, and you launch into the tale of Duck (“She named the duckling Duck?” “We were six.”) and how he’d followed Abe through the sea of paddies, all the way up to the genkan of the rented house each and every day.

Kita is a good listener. He seems happy to let you chatter away. He asks questions here and there and tells a few stories of his own, but mostly he’s quiet, just the soft whisper of his breath echoing on the line. 

The two of you talk until you hear the door to the house open. Takao calls out a greeting, a familiar song, and you call one out in return. Rustling accompanies him and the faint scent of spices starts to waft into the living room. 

“I should go,” you say into the phone. “Dinner’s here.” 

“Alright,” Kita says softly. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

Takao comes into the living room as you hang up; he presses a quick kiss to your lips. He tastes suspiciously like your favorite appetizer. 

“Hey,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him. “Did you eat some on the way home?”

“Yup,” he says cheerfully. “A toll for my labor.” 

“You haven’t finished your labor yet. I set the table, so go unpack the food.”

“Yes ma’am!”

You bat at him; he dodges with a little laugh. He leans down and gives you another quick kiss, this time at the corner of your lips, sweet and fleeting. When he pulls away he heads towards the kitchen, lightly swinging the bag of takeout as he goes.

You’re getting to your feet to follow him when your phone vibrates in your hand, buzzing along your skin. You glance at the notification and see that it’s Kita. You flick it open. 

It was good to talk to you, he’s texted.

You pause for a moment, chewing on your lower lip. You can hear Takao humming to himself in the kitchen.

Yeah, you reply. It was good to talk to you too.

It’s easier after that. You stop agonizing over each word. It doesn’t completely fade; you will always be more careful with Kita than you are with anyone else. It’s the kindest thing you can do for him. 

The two of you start to text more, each message a string drawing you closer to each other. He texts you photos of his ducks. You repay him with photos of the conbini’s cat, a spoiled little thing often found lounging in the front windows, little face turned up to the sun. 

You start to call too. It’s sparse at first, often a continuation of a text chat that simply would be better on the phone, but it grows more frequent as the weeks pass. Some nights it’s short; other nights, you feel lost in time, as if only seconds have gone by when you’ve talked for much longer. 

You grow used to seeing Kita’s name pop up on your screen. It’s nice, if you’re honest. You like talking to him. 

“What’re you makin’?”

You glance towards where your phone is propped up. At some point, today’s call became FaceTime, mainly so you both have your hands free to make dinner. It gives you a glimpse into his kitchen; a glimpse into him. 

His kitchen is meticulously clean and inherently practical. Everything seems to have its space, whether it’s a row of well-maintained pots and pans or a knife block with an assortment of handles jutting out from it, a sharpener carefully tucked in beside it. 

But there are other little touches of Kita scattered about: the apron hanging from the rack is embroidered with tiny rice paddies, each stitch painstakingly made by his grandmother’s steady hand; the strawberry plant in the window is heavy with small, glistening berries despite the season; there are neatly folded handkerchiefs tucked loosely into a drawer by the cleaning supplies.

Even through a phone screen it feels warm. Homey in a quiet way. 

Kita moves back into frame with a bowl in his hand. He’s got a brow raised, and you remember he asked you a question. 

“Nikuman,” you tell him, gliding the cabbage over the mandolin’s shining blade. You work it carefully, watching the ribbons of white-green flutter down onto the cutting board.  “Oyakodon too. You?”

“Tofu hamburger.”

“That’s your favorite, right?”

A small smile blooms on his lips. “You remembered.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I’m not,” he says. “It’s just nice.”

You hum, finishing up with the cabbage and dumping it into a bowl. Kita keeps chopping as you pour rice into a pot and start to wash it. “Ugh,” you murmur to yourself. “Almost out of rice.”

“What rice do you use?” Kita asks.

You point at him with a wet hand. “No,” you say. “You’re gonna judge me.”

“Over rice?”

“You’re a rice farmer!” 

He chuckles. “And?”

“That means you know rice secrets. Like better brands.”

“I could always give you some.”

“Some rice secrets?”

“Some rice.”

You hum. “Thanks, but I don’t want you to have to go out of your way,” you say. “Shipping it seems inconvenient. 

“I was thinkin’ I could bring you some. I have a delivery in the city soon.”

You pause. Kita’s stopped preparing his dinner, instead turning his gaze on you. Even through the phone, his amber eyes almost glow. You think of the last vestiges of a sunset, of the deepest sheen of gold threading across the horizon. 

“Kita…” 

“You can say no,” he says quietly. Quietly, but no less steady for it. 

You sink your hand into the rice that’s settled at the bottom of the pot, still covered by water. When you flex your fingers, the grains slip through them like darting little fish. You do it again. The water ripples around your wrist.

“I can’t, Kita,” you say. 

He nods, his gray hair a lightning strike gleam. “Alright,” he says. His shoulders dip low, an exhausted Atlas, and you sigh.

“Not yet,” you say. “But one day.”

He nods again. For a moment you think he’ll say something else, but he simply gives you a crooked little smile. When you change the subject, he doesn’t fight it. The two of you settle back into conversation as you cook. 

You hang up as Takao returns home. Dinner has just finished cooking, the oyakodon perfectly golden, the scent of it lingering savory in the air. You settle in at the table, talking about your day as you eat, until you finally put your chopsticks down.

“Kita asked me to meet up.”

He puts his chopsticks down as well. 

“I said no,” you say, meeting his gaze. “Well, I said not yet.”

“Not yet? You want to see him?”

“I think I’d like to,” you tell him, because you will always be honest with him about this. “But I won’t if you don’t want me to.” 

“I don’t want to stop you from doing something you want to do.”

“I will, though.”

He runs a hand through his hair; it flows through his fingers like water, little rivulets of dark hair catching between his fingers. “I know,” he says.

“I’ll choose you, Aoshi,” you tell him. “As many times as it takes.” 

He reaches over and cups your cheek with a warm hand. “I know,” he says. “It’s not my favorite thing, but if you want to see him you should.” 

You cover his hand with your own and turn into his touch. You press your lips against his palm, against the leylines that are carved there, a future you don’t know how to read. 

You press another kiss to his palm, a quiet gratitude for his trust.

He leans over to brush a whisper of a kiss to the corner of your lips. 

As you turn back to your meal you think of the waver to Kita’s smile, like the sun hidden behind passing clouds.

One day, you promise him. One day.

***

One day comes quicker than you’d thought.

It’s early, the sun still hovering over the horizon as the blue of dawn fades away into something brighter. The sunlight catches on the city buildings, the windows shimmering like a mirage, a promise of what’s hidden behind them. The streets aren’t empty—they never are—but the frantic pace of them has slowed to something leisurely, as if the city is still waking up too. 

You weave your way through the streets. The route is familiar and you pay little attention to where you’re going, choosing instead to watch the vendors begin to open their stores. The florist is already putting out buckets of flowers, a riot of color from the dawn hues of a ruffled ranunculus to the deep purple of the elegant, leggy irises rising over the rest. He’s half-lost in the blossoms, pushing his way through petals to lay out more of his wares. Some of them catch in his hair. 

Next door, the conbini is still aglow. It’s always a beacon in the night, but it’s softer in the day. You head in and grab a quick snack for later, giving the half-asleep cashier a little smile. 

The bustle of the street has grown when you leave the conbini, the stream of people burgeoning into a river. But you still hear it when someone calls your name.

You glance around and find Kita just a door down from you, coming out of a small grocer’s. He smiles at you softly and you almost duck back into the conbini. 

He waits there, leaving the choice of approaching up to you, but you’ve run from him enough. You slip through the crowd and join him by a flat of dusky peaches, the air around them faintly sweetened. 

“Hi,” you say. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He nods towards the inside of the grocer’s shop. It’s small, clearly family owned, but it’s well-stocked. There’s a kid—no more than ten, you think—carefully putting shining apples into a basket, their face scrunched up in concentration. 

“Tsukada stocks my rice,” Kita says, and now that he’s said it, you vaguely remember him mentioning this neighborhood when you’d talked about his delivery route a few weeks ago. “I’m very grateful for it.”

A scoff comes from behind the register. An older woman peers out, her brow raised. Her eyes are wrinkled at the edges, her crow’s feet papery, but the thickest line is clearly a laugh line. 

“It’s good rice,” she tells you. “Simple as that.” She eyes you curiously, tilting her head to the side. Her thick black braid thuds against her shoulder; it’s streaked with gray, like pebbles just visible through a river’s darkened waters. 

Kita inclines his head to her, a small smile on his lips. “You’re kind,” he says. 

“Just tellin’ the truth.” Tsukada settles back, disappearing behind the register again. “Take some fruit with you when you go. I know your granny likes peaches this time of year.”

“I will,” he says. “Thank you.”

She waves him off with a gnarled hand, barely visible from your vantage point. 

Kita returns his attention to you. “It’s good to see you,” he says, all summer warmth. “I don’t suppose you have a little time? My next delivery isn’t until later.” 

You purse your lips. He tracks the movement, his eyes dimming, and you sigh. 

“I have a little time,” you say. “Coffee?”

He lights ups. “Perfect,” he says. “D’ya know a place near here?”

You nod. “I think it has tea, too.” 

He smiles at you. Then he’s calling a respectful goodbye to Tsukada, gathering a few of the peaches to put in the bag slung over his shoulder. You watch him pick them, his long fingers tender against the soft flesh. He brushes his fingertips along a stubborn leaf still attached to the stem. You half expect him to tear it loose, but he leaves it in place.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

The two of you wind through the streets. He stays by your side but gives you space, only pressing close when the stream of people on the sidewalk thickens to a river. 

The coffee shop isn’t far. When you duck inside the scent of coffee billows over you, sharp and thick and a little bit bitter. You both order—Kita offers to pay, but he doesn’t look surprised when you decline—and then find a little booth tucked away by a small window. The sun has warmed the seats. It streams through the glass in whirling colors, catching in the stained glass decal pressed close to the window. It dapples Kita with pink like he’s been flecked with sakura petals, and you hide your smile in your coffee cup. 

He seems to notice, an answering smile tugging at his lips, but he doesn’t mention it. 

“How’s the farm?” you ask.

“S’good,” he says, taking a sip of his tea. You can smell it faintly, even through the coffee, an earthy kiss. “The ducklings are fully grown now, since I know that’s what you really want to know.”

“You caught me,” you say with a laugh. “Can you blame me? They’re so cute!”

“Yeah,” Kita says, his gaze steady on you. “They are.”

“And you’ve been skimping on the pictures.”

“I sent you one just yesterday.”

“Yes, exactly! Just one!”

He chuckles softly. “I’ll do better,” he promises. 

“Good.”

“And how’re you?”

“Working a lot,” you say. “It’s starting to feel like it’s all I do, but my project should be done soon so I can have a bit more time. I want to meet Abe’s new girlfriend, but I haven’t had a chance yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll meet her soon.”

“Hope so. How are your Olympians? This is what, their second one coming up? I’m looking forward to it.”

He grins. It’s broad and bright, brimming with pride and joy. “They’re not mine,” he protests, but his grin doesn’t falter. “But yes, their second, and they’re good. Workin’ hard. It’s off season, though, so hopefully they’ll come ‘round to visit.” 

“I’m sure Aran will.”

“He doesn’t have a choice,” he says. “Granny’ll go get him herself if she’s got to. He’ll get an earful about it, too.”

You smile into your cup. “I’d like to see that.”

“It’s sure something.” 

“I can only imagine.” 

Kita takes a sip of his tea. Not for the first time you’re struck by the way he moves, the careful surety of it, steadiness edged in grace. You wonder if it’s from his time playing volleyball or if he was always like this.

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask.

“Sometimes,” he says. “It made sense, y’know? Learning something, repeatin’ it, then using that repetition to move forward.”

“It doesn’t sound that different from farmwork.”

He chuckles. It’s low and warm, like the first true rays of light pouring over the horizon. “I suppose they have similarities.” 

“Seems like it to me.”

The two of you keep chatting. It’s easy to pick up the thread of the last time you spoke, and you weave it into today’s conversation. 

You bask in the glow of the morning sun as it streams over the booth. Under the sun’s warmth the world goes honeyed, a slow, sweet drip of time. You shift sleepily. Kita breathes out what could be a little laugh at the sight, but when you look at him he’s got his face tilted up into the light. It gilds him, his half-closed eyes going from amber to pure gold, as if he’s Midas-touched.

You sigh. 

He blinks, the fan of his long eyelashes casting a soft shadow on his tanned cheeks. 

“I have to go,” you tell him. “But this—this has been nice.”

“Very nice,” he agrees.

“Let’s do it again sometime.”

His breath catches briefly. You pretend to not hear it.

“Yes,” he says, a quiet hope lining his voice. You hate yourself a little. “Let’s.” 

You give him a little smile as you rise to your feet. He gets up too despite his unfinished tea, and the two of you head out the door together. 

The humid air rolls over you; you can already feel the heavy stickiness on your skin. You huff, rolling up your sleeves, and a tiny smile appears in the corner of Kita’s mouth. He doesn’t say anything though, and you bid him a quiet goodbye. 

He returns it, his eyes soft, and you head down the street.

When you turn the corner, you can’t help it. You glance back at where you left him. 

He’s already gone.

***

Autumn makes itself known.

It encroaches on the hazy, honeyed nights of late summer slowly, a creeping first frost. The cold is soft edged, more a kiss than a bite. Still, the hydrangeas that line the path to the municipal office have faded under its touch, the blossoms leeched of color and gone brittle at the edges. They rasp out a dry, harsh song as the breeze picks up.

You shiver and lean into Takao’s warmth as the two of you walk to the office, your kon-in todoke clasped tight in your hand. The ink of your seals is still fresh, done hurriedly at the kitchen table when you realized that you were going to be late for your appointment. Abe’s seal is almost too far out of the witness’s section to count; she’d still been bleary-eyed, her first cup of coffee only partially drunk. Yoshikawa’s seal is perfectly in the box for it. She was still teasing Abe when you and Takao left.

“Nervous?” Takao asks, twining his fingers with yours. His palm is slightly sweaty; you hide your smile in your scarf.

“A little. You?”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

“Yoshikawa,” you say promptly. “I don’t think marriage would rattle her at all.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I can see that.” 

You slip inside the office; the chatter of it settles over you. You shrug off your scarf as you orient yourself, reading the signs plastered all over to figure out where the two of you need to go. 

The clerk who processes your kon-in todoke is young. She has a kind smile, and she flashes it as she takes the form from you, along with your koseki tohon. She holds out a hand for your IDs and her nails are baby blue, dotted with tiny white clouds, a perfect summer sky. You can’t help your smile.  

You lean into Takao as she scans your forms. He gives your hand a little squeeze; when you glance up at him, the tips of his ears have gone dusty pink. You almost laugh. He seems to realize it, delivering a nudge to your side that makes you pinch at him. 

“Everything looks in order,” the clerk says. “You have your soulmate form as well?”

“Yes,” Takao says. He hands it to her; you stare at the bulletin board behind the clerk’s head so that her face is blurry. Her keyboard clicks away, but she doesn’t say anything, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

She examines your forms again, her eyes sharp as she reviews them, and then she’s shuffling them together and forming a neat stack. She flashes that same sweet smile. 

“Congratulations,” she says. “You’re officially married.”

Takao squeezes your hand before letting go. He turns to face you and he’s glassy-eyed, his lower lip trembling. He cups your cheek and pulls you close to brush a barely-there kiss against your lips. You chase him when he starts to pull away, deepening the kiss for a brief moment. 

“Hi,” you say when the two of you break apart. “Husband.” 

“Wife,” he replies. There are roses blooming in his cheeks, the blush spreading from his cheekbones up to his ears. He nuzzles his nose against yours. 

The clerk coughs, but when you glance at her, your cheeks heating, she’s still smiling. 

“Thank you,” you tell her. 

She nods, gathering the rest of your paperwork and handing the small stack to you. You collect them carefully before handing them to Takao so he can put them in the small folder he’d brought.

The entire trip home feels unreal, the cityscape swirling together in a watercolor blur, neon melting into the harsh sheen of metal, softened by a hint of greenery. Takao’s touch is grounding though, and you squeeze his hand from time to time, as if making sure he’s still there. 

He always is.

The two of you exchange rings in your sunwarm kitchen. You have no vows, but you think you don’t need them. It’s enough to see the look on Takao’s face as he slips the ring into place; it speaks a language from long ago that you still know by heart. Abe and Yoshikawa cheer when you’re done, and then the rest of the day rushes by, filled to the brim with mini-celebrations. Your friends have gone out of their way to provide what the shrines will not, and you once again wonder how you’ve gotten so lucky. 

Dusk is falling when the last of your guests leave, the sunset spilling over the horizon like fire. The last dregs of light fade as you curl up next to Takao on the couch. He presses a soft kiss to your hairline; you chase him for a real kiss.  You lace your fingers together when you break apart. You thumb at his wedding ring idly, the metal warmed by his skin. 

“We’re married, huh?” you say.

“Seems that way.”

You laugh. “Don’t sound too excited, now.” 

He pinches at you. “I’m not excited,” he says, deftly avoiding your return pinch. “I’m happy. There’s a difference, you know.” 

You lean into him. “I think you’re right.”

“It happens sometimes.”

“It does?”

He pinches at you again. You shove him away, but he pulls you back in and cradles you close. You play-struggle for a moment and then finally relax into him when he tightens his grip. 

“Are you?” he asks softly.

“Am I what?”

“Happy.”

You turn in his arms, reaching out to cup his jaw. You stroke your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Yes,” you say. “I am.”

He kisses you then, his mouth soft and sure. You would know his touch anywhere, you think. It settled beneath your skin long ago. 

“Good,” he says. “Good.”

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, tasting the salt of his skin on your parted lips. His breath wavers. You press a kiss to his pulse.

“I have a phone call to make,” you murmur into his skin. “And I need to do it soon. It’s important.”

He tugs you back up so that you’re looking at him. His eyes—as deep and dark as the night sky—flicker over you. You wait. His brow furrows for a moment and then understanding blooms on his face. He leans forward to press a ghost of a kiss to the corner of your lips. 

“Okay,” he says, letting you go and getting to his feet. He pauses, as if he wants to say more, but he heads to the kitchen without a word. You watch him go before grabbing your phone and dialing. 

You take in a deep, slow breath as the line rings.

Kita picks up quickly. The two of you exchange pleasantries for a few minutes, catching up with each other briefly. There’s an easy flow to it, but he pauses after a moment.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

You bite at a hangnail. 

“I got married today,” you say softly. “I—I thought you should know.”

He’s quiet. It reminds you of the deepest parts of winter, when even the air is still. You ache with it. He’s a bruise that will never quite fade, you think, and you can only imagine what it’s like for him. 

“Thank you,” he says eventually, his voice soft but steady. “For telling me.” 

“It didn’t feel right to not,” you confess. “I’m sorry, Kita.”

“I know.” 

The call doesn’t last much longer. There’s not much left to say after that, and your husband is patiently waiting for you. 

Once you’ve hung up you head into the kitchen and find Takao slicing up a small cake. It’s a froth of delicate frosting topped with crystalline spun-sugar flowers. Abe had insisted that you have a wedding cake and you hadn’t bothered to argue.

He glances up when you wander in. His smile is incandescent, a starlight thing, and you go to him with a matching smile tugging at your lips. You kiss him once, then again, and then a third time still. He laughs. 

You wind your arms around his waist as he finishes cutting the cake, pressing your forehead between his shoulder blades. He smells of home; there’s the faintest hint of his cologne under the scent of your laundry detergent. You press closer.

“Hard call?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, muffled by his shirt.

“It’s over now.”

“So it is.” 

He puts down the knife and turns around in your arms. He draws you close. “I love you,” he says. “Enough that I’ll even share this cake with you.”

“Oh, wow.”

“I know.” 

You laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” you tell him, knowing you sound terribly, disgustingly fond. You start to pull away but he tightens his arms around you. “Aoshi!”

“You gotta say it back.”

“I love you,” you tell him softly. “I really do.”

His smile is tender and fleeting, a dandelion seed caught on the wind. You kiss it from his lips. His hands come up to cup your jaw; you feel the metal of his wedding ring against your skin. 

It feels incredibly ordinary.

You hope it always will. 

*** 

You shiver as you pull the door to the onigiri shop open, burying your face in your scarf even as you step into warm air. A gust of wind whips in behind you, carrying a few rare snowflakes—fat and fluffy, a perfect pure white—inside. You pull the door shut behind you quickly.

It’s blessedly warm in the shop and the air is spiced with enticing, savory aromas. For a moment, you think of your father’s kitchen: the clutter of ingredients spread across a chopping board, an organized mess; the weight of a worn soft apron; the warmth of a heating stove. You open your eyes, not realizing you’d closed them as you breathed in.

It’s a cozy shop. There are plush looking booths and a few small tables, plus a handful of stools at the counter the chef is working behind. He’s a broad man, his forearms flexing as he shapes an onigiri. He snaps something at one of the men sitting on the stools, reaching out to smack the blond’s hand as he tries to grab something behind the counter. The blond squawks, pulling back and looking deeply offended. 

You cough out a laugh.

Both of them snap their gazes to you. They’re twins, you realize, encountering two identical faces. The chef’s furrowed brow smooths out into something placid. He pushes the blond back into his seat with a big hand. 

“What can I get ya?”

“Oh,” you say, caught off guard with how easily he’s switched up. “I’m not sure yet, I’m sorry.”

“Menu’s over there if you need one,” he says, pointing to a stack you hadn’t noticed. “Sit wherever you like.” 

“Thanks,” you say, and suddenly, the man next to the blond looks up. He’s handsome, tall even while he’s sitting down, his shoulders just as broad as the chef’s. He’s also oddly familiar; he says your name and you blink.

“Aran?” you ask.

He beams. “It is you! It’s been a while. Are you staying to eat?” 

You glance between the three of them. The twins are staring at you now; the chef has a brow raised but is otherwise placid, while the blond gapes. You put two and two together and realize that they must be the Miyas. No wonder the name of the shop sounded familiar. 

“You’re Kita’s soulmate,” the chef—Osamu, you remember—says. He sounds bland, but there’s a bit of a sneer tucked into the corner of his mouth. 

“That’s her?” the blond—Atsumu, then—says. He looks you over from head to toe, his honey-brown eyes shining in the low light. His mouth twists into something lemon-edged, a faint hint of sourness lining his whole form.

Osamu ignores him, looking at you instead. “Kita’s here,” he tells you. “He’s droppin’ off some rice in the storeroom.”

You glance at the door of the shop. 

“Dontcha want to see your soulmate?” Atsumu asks, a little bit mean.

You wince. You twist your scarf around your fingers, spooling it around your knuckles.

Aran sighs, looking very, very pained. “Don’t be rude,” he chastises. 

“M’not being rude! I’m just asking! She’s not—”

“Atsumu.” 

Kita emerges from the back, coming up behind the counter. His sleeves are rolled high on his forearms; there’s a light sheen of sweat on his brow. It turns his hair to the dark gray of a summer storm cloud. His mouth is drawn taut, a gash of a thing. 

Atsumu goes pale.

“I’ll have the other part of the delivery for you later this month,” Kita says to Osamu. The dark-haired twin nods. There’s a little smirk on his lips, the bitten down delight of watching a sibling get in trouble. 

Atsumu’s fidgeting, tugging at the hem of one of his sleeves with long, strong fingers. 

“Hey,” Kita says, turning to you. “S’good to see you.” 

“Yeah,” you say, still looking at Atsumu, who looks like he’s waiting for a death sentence.

“I didn’t realize you came here, I would have told Osamu to look out for you.”

“It’s my first time. A coworker suggested it.” 

Atsumu’s shoulders are slowly lowering. There’s the slightest twitch to Kita’s lips, a little half-smile that you recognize. There’s a layer of mischief to it that you’re still getting used to. 

“By the way, Atsumu,” he says, and the blond chokes.  “Didya have something you wanted to say?”

Osamu snorts as his brother wildly shakes his head. It’s quiet but obvious and Atsumu scowls at him. Kita clears his throat and both brothers snap to attention. 

Next to Atsumu, Aran looks like he’s holding back laughter. It’s a good look for him—he glows with it, his barely contained smile bright and true. 

“Ya sure?” Kita asks, that same little mischievous tilt to his lips. Atsumu nods. “Alright then.” 

He rolls down his sleeves as he steps out from behind the counter; he comes over to you and gives you a crescent moon smile, soft and sweet. The two of you step away from the group slightly. 

“Hi,” you say, quieter this time, something just for you and him. 

“You stayin’?” he asks. “You should join us.”

You shake your head. “I have to get back,” you tell him. “Another time?”

“Of course.” 

Kita stays by your side as you order; he radiates a gentle heat, like the bricks of a hearth long after the fire has died down. You watch Osamu make the onigiri, placing each filling carefully. His big hands are gentle as they mold the rice. There’s care and pride in each movement and it lives in his face, too, in the swell of his smile as he completes each one. 

They’re a lively group—Atsumu is growing louder and louder as he argues with his brother, something like a pout on his expressive face before it’s wiped away by indignance. 

“Oi!” he says, pointing at Osamu, halfway out of his seat. “Take that back!”

“Nope,” Osamu says.

“You—”

Aran grimaces as he pulls Atsumu back into his seat. “You’re so loud.”

“Am not!” 

“Ya are,” Osamu says. “Now shut up, you’re bothering the customers.”

Atsumu makes a noise that reminds you of a cat that’s fallen into water as Osamu hands you your order. The box is rather simple, with Onigiri Miya stamped onto it in a deep, rich ink, but it somehow reminds you of the bentos of your childhood. You think it might be how carefully the onigiri are tucked into it, each one nestled close to the next, a little mountain range of rice. 

Kita walks you to the door after you say your goodbyes to the rest of the group. He holds your onigiri box as you put your scarf back on, looping it around your neck.

“Sorry you couldn’t stay,” he says. His fingertips linger when he hands the box back. “I promise my friends don’t bite.”

“Maybe not Aran.” 

He laughs softly. “The twins are all bark and no bite,” he says. “Besides, I can keep ‘em in line.” 

“I noticed.”

He smiles. “See you soon?”

“Yeah,” you say. “See you soon.” 

He holds open the door for you; a gust of wind sweeps over you, tugging playfully at the end of your scarf. You carry his warm smile into the cold winter afternoon.

You’re almost halfway down the street when you hear a familiar voice. 

“Hey!”

You glance back over your shoulder. Atsumu is powering after you; he catches up to you in an instant, tugging you back until you’re both out of the way of other pedestrians. You’re halfway into an izakaya’s doorstep, the winter peonies surrounding it swaying around your ankles. A few early customers peer out the door at you, but Atsumu pays them no mind. 

“What’re you doin’?” he asks, a little too loud.

“Miya—”

“Kita’s traditional,” he says roughly. “It’s only ever gonna be you for him. You know that, right?” 

Your stomach roils.

(I’ve been waiting.

He still is.)

“I’m married.” 

He throws his hands up into the air. “He’s still your soulmate!” 

“I don’t love him!”

“It’s Kita,” he shouts, startling a few passersby. “Everybody loves him!”

“I’m not in love with him,” you say, the words bitter on your tongue. You are so, so tired. “I’m married. I’m happy. Kita’s accepted it, so why can’t you?”

He snorts, honey-brown eyes narrowing. “You really think he’s accepted it? Or is that what you tell yerself so you can sleep at night?”

“Fuck you.” 

The words snap out of you, brutally frigid, like river ice cracking beneath its own weight. To your utter horror, there are tears pooling hot in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Atsumu looks almost as horrified as you feel, but it’s of little consolation. You can feel a sob welling up inside you, rippling through you like oceantide. 

You manage to bite down on it when it leaves you, muffling it just enough. Then the tears finally fall, carving their way across your cheeks like snowmelt, already bitterly cold from the winter air. You rub them away with the back of your hand. 

“I didn’t mean ta—”

“But you did,” you say, knife-sharp and drawing him up short. “You did. Goodbye, Miya.”

He doesn’t follow you when you walk away.

***

The neighbors’ little girl loves the summer rains. She spends them running around outside, the murky puddle water splashing under the soles of her banana-yellow boots. She has a matching umbrella and sometimes you and Takao can see it from your bedroom window, whirling like a top. 

“We should do that,” Takao says, his chin hooked over your shoulder. It’s pouring out. The rain hums against the roof, nature’s oldest song, and the neighbors’ girl—Aiko, you think—is dancing to it. You can just make out her long braid bouncing as she hops from puddle to puddle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, getting to his feet and tugging you with him. “Let’s go.”

“Aoshi, it’s pouring.” 

“Yes, that’s the point.” 

You laugh and let him drag you through the house. He shoves your raincoat at you, shrugging on his own before the two of you race to the genkan, giggling as you go. You slip your boots on and run outside.

The rain sluices down on you, the humid summer heat already sneaking its way beneath your raincoat, the beginnings of sweat starting to gather. You pay it little mind, sucking in a deep breath instead, taking in the scent of the wet concrete as Takao grabs your hand. He tugs you towards Aiko.

Before you know it, the two of you are swinging her back and forth between you, her little wrists clutched tight in your hands. She shrieks with delight each time she comes up off the ground; each landing creates a tidal wave in the puddle she crashes down into. 

Takao is laughing, low and sweet, and when you glance at him, he’s already looking at you. His dark hair is plastered against his forehead. Water droplets are beading on his long eyelashes before he blinks them away. 

Your breath catches for an instant. And then Aiko is tugging on your hand, wanting to go again, and you glance away from your husband with a little smile. 

You stay outside with Aiko until her father calls her in. Then the two of you tumble back into your house, stripping off your wet clothing with groans. 

Takao cooks dinner as you lay everything out to dry. You’ve just clipped the last clothespin into place when he calls to you; you take the extra clothespins and clip them along the little storage space you’d added to the balcony for them, a short length of bright blue twine. 

He’s made curry, the type that warms even your bones. The two of you curl up together on the couch to eat. You lean into him, ignoring his groan as you accidentally elbow him in the stomach.

“We should go on our honeymoon,” he says after a moment. “It’s almost been a year and we still haven’t gone.” 

“We should,” you say, scraping your bowl clean and licking the last of the sauce off of your chopsticks. “Where do you want to go?”

“Haven’t thought that far.”

You snort. “You’re the one who brought it up!”

“It’s a step by step process, you know. First we have to decide to actually go, then we pick the place.”

He easily evades your little pinch. 

“It’s gonna be hard to pick,” you tell him.

“Maybe.” 

“We’ll figure it out, I guess.”

He leans in and presses a kiss to your temple. 

“We always do.” 

He’s right, you think. You always do figure it out.

Together.

***

The farm is dusted with snow.

It reminds you of powdered sugar, light and fluffy and easily blown away in the slightest breeze. It’s the first snow according to Kita. The true frost set in over the last week; the paddies have iced over, a cobweb of winter. You listen to the crackle of it settling and shiver, pushing deeper into your scarf.

“Ya warm enough?” Kita asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “It’s just a little more mild in the city.”

He hums his agreement. The two of you keep walking along the worn dirt path, weaving through the slumbering fields. The snow crunches softly underfoot. In the distance, you can hear the rumble of a truck; it purrs and groans as it putters down one of the other roads. 

“I’m glad you came,” Kita says softly.

He’s invited you several times, never pushing, but you’ve always said no. You don’t know why this time had felt right, but it had. You watch a crow circle overhead before it lands in a bare tree, a spot of darkness against the pale blue sky. 

“Me too,” you say. “I’ve never been out here in the winter.”

“Pretty, ain’t it?”

“It is.” 

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence as you wander further. You pass another farmhouse where two small children are playing outside, both of them bundled up to the point that they’re waddling more than walking. One of them has a crimson scarf, the deep color of poppies at night, the ends of it fluttering in the gentle breeze.

They’re sliding a puck back and forth on ice that’s creaking ominously. They wave to you with the branches they’re using for hockey sticks. 

“Should we stop them?” you ask, waving back.

Kita shakes his head. “There’s only an inch or so of water, this time of year. They’ll be fine.” 

“Okay.” 

“Did you ever do that?”

He laughs. “Course.”

“Play or fall through?”

“Both, actually,” he says. He takes hold of your arm as you slip on a patch of ice, keeping you upright with ease. “Careful now.”

He waits until you’re steady before he lets go. He presses a bit closer after that and you let him. The wind is too constant to really feel the heat of him, but you think you feel it anyway. 

You fall back into comfortable silence. The wind is whistling softly through the bare trees, stirring the last clinging remnants of the leaves. You watch one of them tear free and blow away. It carries across the fields, which stretch as far as the eye can see. 

You turn back when you get to the edge of the paddy you’re walking next to. By the time you’re back to the farm, you’re chatting about what to make for dinner. Kita had taken you to the local market earlier in the day letting you browse through the piles of daikon and leeks, each of them fresher than anything you would see in the grocery store.

“Oden?” Kita suggests as you enter the genkan and you nod.

“Sounds perfect,” you say, using the wall to balance as you start to take off your boots. Kita stops in the middle of taking off his jacket and kneels down in front of you to get the buckle you’re struggling with. “Kita, you don’t need to do that.”

“Already down here,” he says with a smirk. “So I might as well.” 

You sigh. “Thank you,” you say, slipping off your jacket and hanging it carefully. 

He nods, tucking his outerwear away neatly before getting to his feet. After he’s sure you’re all set, he heads down the hall, turning on the small kotatsu that sits in his living room. It’s an older one, the blanket slightly worn, patterned with white cranes. It was his grandmother’s, you think. 

“Get warm,” he says. “I’ll start cooking.”

“I should help—”

“You can after you’ve warmed up a little bit.”

“Fine,” you say, ignoring the little smile on his face as you pout. You sit at the kotatsu and melt into the warmth as he heads into the kitchen. 

You join him not long after. He gives you leeks to chop as he peels daikon; you spend a few minutes at his pristine kitchen sink, washing the grit out from between the leaves. The two of you chatter as you cook. The kitchen is slowly heating, until it’s like a banked fire. 

His kitchen is small but set up well and the two of you move around it easily together. You rarely bump into each other and hand off ingredients as the other needs them. It’s seamless and it doesn’t take long before the oden is done.

The two of you settle at the kotatsu to eat. Kita hands you a pair of well-worn chopsticks.

“You should come for longer next time, if you can,” he says.

“I’ll try to,” you say, knowing that you’ve only touched the surface of the farm. Of the life he’s built here, in the wide expanse of the countryside. 

He smiles warmly. “Good.”

Time flies by until Kita has to get up to turn on another lamp as night encroaches. When you peer out the window, the night sky sprawls endless above you, softly lit by the tender touch of the waning moon.

“I should go,” you say. “It’s late.”

He hums an agreement. The two of you bundle up in the genkan; Kita lends you a too-long scarf that’s messily knitted. You wrap it around your neck several times before you are willing to brave the cold. 

The snow glistens under the moonlight as you trudge to Kita’s truck. There’s a stillness to the night, as if you’re on the cusp of something unreal, something otherworldly. You tilt your head back and gaze at the stars, scattered throughout the plush darkness, glinting like ice. 

Kita cranks the truck’s heater to high as it rumbles on. It blows out a gush of cold air that makes you shudder, but it’s already warming by the time you’re pulling out of the driveway. 

“Where does your farm end?” you ask.

“Just here,” he says, flicking on his blinker as he makes a turn down the road towards town. “Then it’s Suzuki’s place.” 

“Do they—”

“Have ducks?”

“...Yes.”

His eyes flicker to you, the amber of them aglow in the silvery moonlight. “He does.” 

You must look pleased because he laughs, the sound low and warm, filling the cab of the truck like billowing smoke. The smile on his lips is wide and you think of the horizon, how it never ends, and hope that his joy never ends, too. 

“Kita,” you say, unable to help yourself.

“Mhm?”

“I’m glad we’re friends,” you say softly.

Kita’s smile dims, the summer sun hidden behind thin, wispy clouds. 

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. He sounds a little sad. “Me too.”

The rest of the ride is silent.

***

Winter melts away in the face of spring’s burgeoning warmth. The crocuses come early this year, pushing up through the dregs of frost, unfurling quietly, steadily. Yoshikawa paints them; they’re bruises against the soft white of her canvas, the yellow stamen cradled between petals like golden treasure. 

She gives you and Abe the paintings one day at the park. They’re carefully wrapped, no bigger than your hand, tied up with a piece of twine that you think she sniped from your gardening supplies. 

“What’s this?” Abe asks.

“Find out for yourself,” Yoshikawa says, as if Abe isn’t already tearing into the paper. She hands you yours as you sit up from the pile of blankets you’d laid out on the grassy knoll of the park. You pull it open carefully.

“Pretty,” you breathe, tracing a finger over the long, elegant curve of the stems. “Are these the ones behind the house?”

She nods.

“These aren’t your usual style,” Abe says.

Yoshikawa shrugs, laying down on the blankets and shielding her eyes against the sun. “I’m trying something new.”

“It’s nice,” Abe says. “You should do more like it.”

“Maybe.” 

“When are you going to paint me?”

“I already painted you,” Yoshikawa points out. 

“That was in high school!”

“It’s still painting you.”

You tune them out and lie back down. You curl up so that you can pillow your head on Yoshikawa’s stomach. She shifts to give you more room. She smells like sweet, wet earth. You think of a garden after rain, when it’s gone lush and green. You sink into the oasis of her. 

Abe wakes you up as the sun is starting to set. You groan but let her coax you up. The three of you gather your items plus a few things you hadn’t had at the start of the day: a heart shaped rock Abe tripped over; a box of okonomiyaki that’s perfuming the air with a savory, spicy scent; a few golden wildflowers, tied carefully together with a hair elastic.

You know the walk home by heart, so you spend your time looking at the city as it comes to life, a night-blooming flower. Next to you, Abe is chatting merrily at Yoshikawa, who is looking at her with a smile you know well. She glances at you and drops you a sly little wink. 

“What was that?” Abe asks immediately.

“Nothing,” Yoshikawa says, taking your keys from you and opening the front door.

“It was something!”

“It really wasn’t.”

“Yes it was!”

You listen to them bicker all the way to the kitchen, trying not to laugh. Abe whirls on you. “Tell me,” she whines.

“It really was nothing,” you say. “She’s just winding you up.”

Abe huffs. “I hate you both.”

“You love us,” Yoshikawa says, opening up the box of okonomiyaki and grabbing three of her favorite plates. 

“Sadly, I do.” 

Your phone rings; when you glance at it, it’s an unknown number. You silence it and grab a plate from Yoshikawa. The three of you eat and chat, swapping bites here and there since you all got different fillings. The sun sets; the golden light pours in through your kitchen window and haloes your friends. 

Your phone vibrates and you pull it out of your pocket, expecting it to be Takao. Instead, the same unknown number is calling you again. You frown and pick up.

A woman says your name. There’s something to the way she says it. You let out a soft, shaky breath as you listen.

You hang up. Your phone sits heavy in your hand.

“That was the hospital,” you say, sounding too calm even to your own ears. “Aoshi was in an accident.”

Abe and Yoshikawa’s heads come up. 

“Is he okay?” Yoshikawa says, blade-sharp.

Your vision is going black at the edges, a slow, steady swallowing. You sit down carefully, the wooden floor cold even through your clothing.

Abe says your name.

She sounds scared.

“No,” you say evenly. “He didn’t make it.”

[project-sekai-facts]

Hi! Welcome to Project SEKAI facts!

This account posts daily facts and trivia about Project SEKAI! I occasionally do longer analysis/content overview posts as well as some event speculation.

This account is currently operated by one mod and is scheduled to post daily at 4pm UTC. Bonus facts may be posted if I find something interesting in newly released content.

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I just post trivia and can't gatekeep that from you so reposts of trivia is allowed but if you choose to copypaste/screenshot my stuff to repost instead of writing it in your own words then please put credit. Reposts of my essays/character analysis is not permitted at all.

Hope you enjoy your visit!

↓ Submissions & Asks info + more below cut ↓

Submissions are welcome!

Rules:

Must be canon or otherwise official - Content from any server of the game (including cards, stories and songs etc), music videos, Petit SEKAI, official artwork or 4komas is OK! I will also accept content from the anthology mangas, magazine articles, and seiyuu content (including unofficial stuff so long as it is relevant to the game, like something they said on a personal livestream). In other words everything is fine except fandom stuff/unofficial fanworks.

If the fact is related to Vocaloid/Virtual Singers, it must be relevant to Project SEKAI in some way.

No leaks - Leaked content is usally low quality and I will not be able to post the fact until the content has been released officially, so I'd rather you didn't submit it at all.

Please submit a source for your fact - a screenshot, image, video or link is OK! If you don't have any then that's fine, but please at least tell me what story/card/article/stream/etc is the source so I can get the screenshot/image/link myself.

If the source is not available on the EN or JP server, or is not available online, please attach an image/video! - I only play on the EN and JP servers, and will only be able to get screenshots and recordings of content available on those servers. If your fact relates to content exclusive to any other server or is from a physically published source and you do not provide an image/video, I will not accept the submission.

Asks are also open if you have any questions about a fact or if you have any general questions for me. Due to the incredibly overwhelming amount of asks I get nowadays, it is impossible for me to answer everything. Sincerest apologies for that. I still try to answer as many as possible but it could take a while for your ask to get a response. Also please do not ask me about shipping (platonic stuff is okay I just don't like to go into noncanon/speculative territory and then share my opinions on that. In other words I don't wanna start ship discourse).

Tagging

Characters are tagged Firstname Lastname (excluding Vocaloids). For example, facts about Ichika will be tagged as Ichika Hoshino.

Events will be tagged using the fan translations from the Project SEKAI wiki, rather than the official English names. This is just for consistency so I don't have to go back and redo tags whenever EN changes a title.

The media will also be tagged (e.g: Hatsune Miku: COLORFUL STAGE or Petit SEKAI)

Full tag list linked in blog description

Send me an ask/comment if you need anything trigger tagged. Triggers will be tagged "trigger tw". Flashing lights is the only thing I actively tag atm.

About mod

Yes I am one person. I treat this blog like a full-time job.

EN player since launch, got the game for the Sonic costume, stayed for potato ni natte iku. Not joking.

I am learning Japanese and am also entirely self taught. If I make any mistakes with my translations I apologise + please correct me!

i'm a VBS main (but like. barely. I love all the units a lot). no i will still not tell you who my oshis are or my opinions on ships. i like the vbs side characters and asahi and sakurako. i will tell you that much because i doubt how much people care about them.

I wrote the TVTropes entry in the header before the one other person who uses that site accuses me of stealing it

Feel free to send asks about my opinions on the game idm talking

I have most notifications for this blog turned off so if I ever miss something I apologise

That's all from me. You should watch all the Love Lives.

^ best ask i've ever gotten now framed in my pinned post

[dearweirdme]

Hi Jkk anon!

I admire your dedication, that was a long ass ask you sent me. I'm not gonna post it, because even though you seem to think I know nothing about what Jkkrs believe... I actually do and what you have sent me was nothing new to me. You can actually go through my blog and look at all the asks on this topic... your side has sent me a lot.

What you have sent me is proof of Jm and Jk's close bond and I never said that they aren’t close. They're best friends who have spent a huge part of their lives together, more than best friends do on a regular base. To me, that is the perfect explanation of why Jm and Jk interact the way they do.

You take issue with me saying Jkkrs rely on the "grand moments". I'm not sure what you want from me, I'm really not going to apologize for that. I do actually think that those big moments (Rose Bowl, GCF Tokyo, the bite) are the pillars of your believes. I have no problem with Atomix possibly being a group visit, it would change nothing about what I believe in general. Your side however holds on strongly to those moments, they come back in every argument. You even use them yourself, while trying to tell me it's much more than those moments. I am well aware of all the things you all have decided is proof. But Jkkrs agreeing with Jkkrs doesn't really do much for me. I don't care how big those accounts you sent me are.. to me they're still fanaccounts. Someone with only ten followers might just as well be right as someone with thousands.

I've thought about what it is exactly that makes all of you see this wrongly... and I think I've landed on the unwillingness to place Jm and Jk and Tae into a bigger context. It's as though you pic Jm and Jk and try to make them fit the mold of a regular romantic couple. They never do quite fit the mold though.. and that's when you all start to insert your own ideas. Jm, Jk and Tae are part of a bigger picture though. You have to place them and their behaviors into the context of society, business strategies, group behavior, etc... and all of you don't do that. The biggest thing Jkkrs don't seem to be able to grasp, is that we are not looking at a regular couple in love. The openness and obviousness you all talk about.. is the obviousness of friendship. In SK an in-band-same-sex-idol-couple would never be highlighted the way Jm and JK are. It is just not possible. GCF Tokyo would never have been released if it had been about their romantic relationship. They would never have entered the military together if they were actually together. BH would have tried to hide them (to protect them and their business) not showcase them. So while you think everything you have seen of them is a sign of them being together, I know.. that cannot be true. They're not fake, their bond isn't fanservice.. but their bond is a safe bet for BH. It is risk-free. If you were to take a close look at Tae and Jk (and to me it is obvious you have not, otherwise you would not have sent me some of the JKk examples you have) you would maybe (no probably not.. you seem quite stubborn) see that their relationship actually would fit that of a closeted idol couple. You make fun of our "focus on eye contact, looks, taekook sitting so close to each other lol, or them knowing details about each other" but that is a huge part of how one would recognize two people in love... especially when that couple cannot act on their love publicly.

If you really want me to relay every point you made in your long ask... go through my straws and ship analysis tag... I'm convinced you will find everything there already.

[cloud-somersault]

Hey, how are you doing? I hope you’re alright. 💕 I’ve been reading your status updates on Constellations and the Epilogue, and I just wanted to let you know that I think you’re amazing. Your writing is incredible and I love it. Your stories are so well thought out and the characters are ✨on point✨, and the plot is complex and detailed and aaahhh! It has me hooked! 🤩

And I understand how it hurts when you put so much effort and love into a story, only to post it and not see others be anywhere near as excited or invested as you are. I know how discouraging it can be. And it may be a little silly, but I do want to apologize for not commenting lately—life took some difficult turns for me healthwise around the end of last year and I haven’t been able to catch up! I’m still on Chapter 4 of Constellations! 😭 BUT Chapter 5 is open on my phone, and I am READY to read it as soon as I have the time (and mental energy, but that’s a whole ‘nother issue 😩). Don’t worry that your writing isn’t enough, or be discouraged if some readers don’t catch hints while others are figuring it all out seemingly too easily. Everybody reads and comprehends stuff differently, and it’s not a sign that your writing is bad if they don’t catch it! Honestly, I’m pretty bad at catching hints the first time I read a story unless they’re pretty darn obvious. I don’t usually notice subtle hints until the second, or third, or even seventh read-through, haha! (on the bright side, rereading stories and rewatching TV shows is always fun!) 😅

I guess what I really wanted to say is… don’t give up hope. Don’t lose your love and enthusiasm for your works, or feel like they aren’t worth writing because others don’t seem interested in them. At the heart of it all… at the end of the day… write because you love to. Because it makes you happy. And know that it doesn’t have to be “perfect”—the main goal should be that you enjoy it. That’s something I’m trying to teach myself, too. 💕

Thank you for taking the time to write this message and send it. I appreciate you're very kind words 💕I'm doing okay, I just had to take a step back for a bit from socials and stuff. I'm gonna keep that up for a while.

Please don't apologize for not commenting or taking your time reading. Your health always comes first, and I'm sorry if I came off as childish or needy, that wasn't my intention. Two things just happened that set me off and the timing of it was incredibly poor 😓

Please take your time reading; none of it is going anywhere, and don't feel obligated to leave comments either. i'm realizing that, even if chapters are short or long, finding the time to finish things is difficult, and everyone lives different lives. And I'm sorry about all the spoilers on this blog, I'll tag that better from now on.

But I really do think I got confused or disjointed in my perceptions; everyone here knows so much because i've been asked questions and given answers and people have interacted, so people following me here have more context than the average ao3 user. But I've kinda been expecting everyone to be on the same page, which will never be true.

I'm also the same way where it takes me a while to pick up on hints. I actually changed my writing style to prevent this. I got tired of reading books in college where you had to dive into every little thing. the hints and clues weren't obvious to me. I decided then that, when I wrote, I wanted things to be bold, obvious, but beautiful. I didn't want to make readers feel like they're missing something. I wanted them to trust that every answer, every clue would be answered in time. I made that promise to myself a decade ago, and being reminded of how different people interpret things just...made me remember.

I take writing really seriously, probably too seriously, but I've been doing it for so long and I love doing it. I want to be good at it. When it feels like I've gone back on that promise to myself, I get frustrated. I think of ways I could've fixed things. But I also remember that those books and those writing styles just weren't for me. I wasn't the target audience.

Sorry to go off on a tangent, but I wanted to explain why I got upset. I still love Constellations and I'm posting it on ao3 out of convenience, really. It's easier to reference and search there in one "Entire Work" than to have 5 documents open. The fact that others can see and read and have fun is a bonus. But I'm committed to telling this story, and I'm gonna finish with a bang.

Thank you, I won't forget why I'm doing this and that my thoughts/feelings come first! 😤I hope your health concerns are taken care of soon. Take it easy, and thanks again! 💕

[synthnetz]

‘ I Can Hardly See The Moon . . . ‘

what’s up! name’s vivian, but you can also call us synth, neo or venus. we’re a DID system. i’m host up in this bitch and i’m also a v2 fictive. i plan on trying to be a little more active on here, so expect some art on here, maybe some writing, and a lot of talking about things we’re interested in. anyone who decides to talk will sign off if they feel like it, but don’t expect it all the time. we will use this account also to talk about our experiences with DID and other disorders. i will tag stuff appropriately and when needed just in case for people who only are here for art.

just some things to note:

we are a MINOR! please keep that in mind

we use i/me and we/us interchangeably

our collective pronouns are he/it/they but please ask if you are able to (i use she/they pronouns :])

don’t treat fictives here like their source. just because some of them have hyperfixiations on their source doesn’t mean they’re fine with being treated like it

we reblog things sometimes, and often lose motivation to post to online spaces, if we disappear sometimes i apologize in advance

also, i have a side blog ( @postmodern-icarus ) that i haven’t posted anything on but i plan on using that sometimes! mostly just to ramble bout my own stuff lol!

DNI/BLOCKED :

MAPs / Pedos

Zoophiles

Transphobic

Homophobic

Racist

SH/ED romanticization

Endogenic systems

And ETC. I will block if I find you annoying and shit.

Our Userboxes and Other Links !

Twitter : https://x.com/synthnet_z?s=21&t=NadnhYukPIM_7P8OPBABNA

TikTok (relatively inactive) : https://www.tiktok.com/@synthnet_z?_t=8m1lPSWyhfb&_r=1

Will be updated. . .

[superlarva]

I'm only asking this on anon, because I have to message people from my main account/blog which is confusing when I do most of my reblogging from my side blogs. So for the purposes of this message, I am @clonethirstingisreal

And I want to apologize for reblogging all of the chapters of your Rex being a dad to Echo and Fives story, because I'm sure you're going to be inundated with notifications and you might not even be on here very much...so please don't feel the need to respond to my reblogs, I just want to make sure they live on my blog and that my followers get to see them, because I think everyone should read them!!! I love this story so much!!

So anyway, yeah...thanks for writing it! And I'm pretty sure you said you would be writing at least one more chapter, so I look forward to that!

I just didn't want to stress you out with a bunch of notifications.

OMG, hi @clonethirstingisreal (I hope you can see this, for some reason it won't let me tag you properly)

First of all, you have nothing to apologize for, friend! I love receiving notifications--hearts, reblogs, and comments are all much appreciated. I cannot express the amount of joy that I feel after coming home from a long day of work and seeing that someone has been enjoying and engaging with something I have written, so, thank you very much! <3

Second, I only started seriously posting things on tumblr this summer and I am still learning tumblr etiquette and features, so if I'm being honest, I have been a little scared/nervous to respond to people all the time. With that being said, I do read everyone's comments and reblogs (as I said before, they make me very happy). Perhaps as I get more comfortable here I will respond more. :)

Third, I'm delighted that you are enjoying Raising Dominoes! I currently have nine (I think) unposted finished chapters and more on the way, so don't worry, there's plenty more to come. Some things to look forward to are first days of school, trips to the library, Echo coming home, celebrations, a side of angst, all the good stuff. I've been trying to post every Sunday night, but sometimes I have events or work that get in the way.

Okay, now on to some responses to some of your comments/questions! :)

I'm happy that the little Bad Batch cameo brought you in! We'll see more of them once the boy's are in school!

Hehe, I'm glad you like the hospital parking lot scene. I wrote that one from experience. I feel I have done my duty if I was able to give someone the feels!

I LOVED writing the shopping trip chapter. I'm glad people have been reacting well to teen Hardcase, I was afraid people weren't going to like my choice of ages for the characters.

Speaking of ages, I could have sworn you (I think it was you?) had mentioned something about doing the math to see how old Rex would have been when the twins were born and I can't find it now, but anyway, you were right, ~16-17. I might go into that a little later, so I don't want to spoil anything for now!

Ahh, okay, that was long, sorry!

TL;DR: Feel free to reblog as much as you want! It makes me so happy to hear your thoughts!

[hazbinhoteloc-ninlil]

(a message for the mod :D)

sorry if i'm bothering you with this ask, mod. it's fine if you don't answer this. i know that my words can't worth much to anyone on the other side of this screen, but my gosh i'll try to spread the positivity and my appreciation for all RP blogs, so i'll send this in, mod. there could be a better way of doing this, which i have learned is through the art of tagging (yes i'm slowly learning my way through Tumblr because i, myself, am still a huge Tumblr newbie, lol), and i'm too nervous and shy to do something like that haha, so here's a personalized positivity ask in your ask box :D.

first, i love seeing your OC. their design is such a cool one, both of the designs. they are just so cool. i'd wish i could have interacted more but i get crazy anxious with things that i'm not quite familiar with, but i wish to interact more in the future :D.

the lore that you have made with the other RPers is that even a word? i don't know and i hope that i'm not pulling that word from out of nowhere, lol. is literally so cool to see. but that last one before they ascended just tug at my heart strings T^T.

i do hope that those anons/people would stop sending everyone hate because frankly those people have no clue what they're talking about >:(. you all are frankly so cool and lovely people, so >:(. again, sorry i'm bothering you with this rather man, i didn't expect it to be this long ask.

and that i hope that you have a wonderful day/night/whenever you manage to read this ask. don't feel the need to respond if you don't want to, just wanted to send this positivity ask in :D.

you might be able to tell who this is, but in case you don't, i wouldn't want to expose myself, so i hope you understand this being on an account with literally nothing but a tracker of who i've been to already (yes, i made an account just to do this but without any identifiable information on this account :P).

luv you and all that you do for this community :D.

you do what you do best so keep on doing it, mod :3.

-spreading positivity anon :D (the anon account that only interacts with mods unless the characters are in need to raising their spirit :3, even if this is an account.)

(yes i see the contradictory notion of me having this sign off, lol, but i'll also probably be around the other RP blogs and try to spread some positivity with the same sign-off as an attempt to fight off the unnecessary hate that seems to be thrown around :D. and i will become a virus which spreads positivity if i need to >:3)

Ooc: // Hello sweetheart, thank you so much for your kind and thoughtful words.

This is what I meant when I said I am so proud of what this community has become, I’m so honored to be able to be apart of something that seeks to lift up and make others smile, while also gathering to support one another through hate.

Those Hateful anons haven’t come near me, and for that I am grateful, it makes me sad that they went after some of my friends however and I’m glad they seem to have stopped. Hopefully they will reflect on their actions and realize flaw in their own behavior.

I don’t expect apologies from them though it’d be nice if they do read this. “It Starts With Sorry” after all. 😉

I love story telling, writing and drawing. The fact I was able to Share Ninlil with you all and you all have been receptive and fell in love with her has made my heart full. I’m sorry I scared people with her almost death in the Last RP. I was not yet aware of the negativity being spread, otherwise I would’ve put a disclaimer stating her soon ascension. I have no plans to leave this platform anytime soon.

I love you all, and I hope you have a wonderful week, have plenty of food to fill your stomachs, may the weather be fair, and may you be surrounded and protected by joy and peace.

My heart bleeds and goes out to those who are unable to be in peace right now, and I hope they find peace soon.