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nariism · 3 months

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wherever you are, wherever you may be — i. rin

soulmates (name au) + "i'm done waiting."

synopsis. itoshi rin meets you under a sky full of fireworks. he spends the next 6 years of his life trying to convince himself that he doesn't love you. you spend the next 6 years giving him every reason why he should.

wc. 12.4k (i need to close my eyes and sleep for a while)

notes. huge thank you to ellie (@hyomagiri) and mari (@saetoshi) for helping me with this 🥹 this fic actually put me through it and i'm so grateful to both of them for their support 💗

— for my beloved @ode2rin 💐 | event masterlist ✉️

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2024

Every year on the seventh day of the seventh month, Itoshi Rin finds himself standing at the daunting entrance to his local shrine.

The tradition is completely beneath him—something childish that he grumbles about under his breath despite letting you drag him all the way out here with soft eyes watching your smile.

Tanabata is the festival of stars. Of love.

It is a story his mother used to whisper to him as they watched the night sky in awe, pretending that the galaxy was collapsing in on itself to allow for a romantic midnight rendezvous between two lovers.

It’s something far too sappy for his liking.

But the food is okay, he supposes, and it’s a good opportunity to get out of the house and spend time with you which he seldom has time to do now that he’s back in his training season.

There were too many things about it that he loathed: the screaming children that would bump into his legs; the way his ears would stay ringing for days after the festival ended; how you could always convince him to come as if you were some sort of hypnotic devil in disguise, and how thoroughly wounded his pride would be at that fact.

However, his least favourite part of the festival by far is writing down his wish for the year on a scrap piece of paper and hanging it around a bamboo tree. One, because he can never for the life of him think of anything meaningful to wish for. And two, because he isn’t sure he even believes in that sort of thing.

Rin is struggling again this year, pencil lightly scratching his temple as he thinks.

He’s painfully aware that he’s never put so much thought into this before, but you seemed so excited to come all the way here before heading to the festivities that he couldn’t possibly let you down.

His wish dawns on him then, something he wants to do before the next time he makes the climb all the way back up here 365 days from now.

“Hey,” your voice calls out quietly. “What did you wish for?”

“What did you wish for?” Rin quickly refutes.

You cast your narrowed eyes from the side, tilting your little slip of yellow paper away from him.

“Only if I get to see yours first.”

Normally, he would give in to you right away. His resolve when it comes to you is embarrassingly weak. But there’s no way for him to explain himself. No way he could show you the words he’s written lest he hurt his ego.

He stubbornly folds up the piece of paper and shoves your face away. All you do is laugh and he feels terribly warm.

“No peeking,” he tells you when you kiss across his fingertips.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2018

A name appeared for Itoshi Rin when he turned thirteen years old.

He remembers the day well—it was hard to forget, anyway. As much as he wanted to focus on the burning of the name etching its way down his skin, he couldn’t. Not when he was blinking snow out of his lashes and watching his brother’s retreating back.

Rin likes to think that the universe fucks with him in any way that it can.

Maybe he had done something terrible in his past life and this was its karmic retribution, or maybe he was just unlucky.

What he does know is this: the name on his pinky only reminds him of all the things he ever lost.

Every syllable struck needles into his heart—a painful memory of crawling after the tracks of the wheels Sae left behind with his luggage until gravel and ice were stuck under his nails. Or worse, the clawing of his throat as they sat across from each other at dinner—the way he didn't even smile when Rin announced to his parents that his soulmate mark had appeared while his mother cried out in joy.

In fact, Sae didn’t talk to him for the rest of his visit. He remembers that hurt the most.

The name had haunted him for all the remaining years of his life—a forced memory that he wished he could forget. There came with it a feeling of loneliness that crushed him despite the proof on his pinky that there was another soul wandering the earth that would fix him.

He refused to believe it.

Only revenge would fix him. Only proving himself better would heal the cracks in his heart. Only beating Sae. Sae, Sae, Sae. His brother’s name had been repeated so many times that it was easy to ignore the other burning his skin.

In all those years he found it easy to cast aside his soulmate. To ignore it even if it hurt.

So he wonders why it’s so bad tonight.

He’s done everything he could think of: slathering cooling ointment down his finger to stop the searing, wrapping it in a cast to prevent himself from admiring it for too long, even tying a wish to a piece of bamboo hoping it would disappear.

A finger snaps in front of his face, drawing his attention to his teammates in front of him. Both look equally amused.

“You’re dreaming,” Isagi muses. “You’ve been spacing out all night. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rin mutters, swatting his teammate’s hand away from him. He had been staring again, longingly eyeing the way the letters danced down his skin. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“None of your business.”

“Yeesh, it’s not good to keep things bottled up, you know?”

“You’re annoying,” Rin glowers before it melts back into indifference. “I’m fine,” he reiterates.

Isagi seems unconvinced, as he usually is when Rin is being mysteriously vague about what’s on his mind. He and Bachira share a tentative glance before sighing and shaking their heads.

“Well… okay,” he finally yields. “We’re going to get some snacks before the fireworks start. If you’re going to sulk then at least stay put and do it here so we can find you again.”

“Yeah,” Rin grumbles, already making an escape plan. “Whatever. Will do.”

As soon as the boys are out of sight, he turns heel and hurries away. The crowd is driving him crazy and he needs somewhere quiet so he can stare at his hands until his eyes are dry.

He comes to a pond situated just outside of the festival grounds, deep water glimmering under the moon and the passing lanterns.

Plopping down on the bench, he hunches over onto his knees with his elbows and takes a deep breath. It instead comes shallow, as if someone has just punched him in the gut.

It’s then that he realizes he’s not alone.

Your yukata is muddy, fabric soaked and dripping at the sleeves though you don’t seem to care or even notice. You look frustrated for some reason, lip curled into a concentrated frown while you plunge your hands into the mud around the edge of the water.

Away from the crowds of people, he can hear the summer song of cicadas chirping all around. Your hands dip in and out of the water, quiet splashes filling the rest of the silence on top of the distant buzz of children laughing.

It’s just you and him. Something primal inside of him rages, pounding against his chest until it feels like he’s suffocating.

Run. Run. Run.

His legs jerk, urging him to stand up and leave, but he feels glued down to the bench—tethered where he sits and forced to watch you repeatedly sink your hands into the muddy waters.

No more than five minutes must pass as you both ignore each other, yet it feels like an eternity stretches by.

Finally, you pipe up.

“You’re scaring them,” you tell him plainly.

His head whips in your direction at your voice, soft and careful. His teal eyes narrow at you. “Huh?”

Your frown deepens, turning to look at him with your hands still submerged. “The frogs.”

“Come again?”

“Your vibes. It’s scaring the frogs away.”

His eye twitches.

“Ever consider that you’re just dogshit at catching them?”

“Excuse me?”

“And look at you, making a total mess of yourself. Don’t you care that you have to go home looking like that?” He presses, leering at you like an insect he’s about to crush under his heel. You simply stare at him, expression blank.

Huffing, you tear away from him and sink your hands beneath the mud. “No. I don’t.”

He watches in silence as you sift around for a moment before pulling your hands up, a smile slowly morphing into your face.

“I got one…” You breathe, looking more elated than he thinks you should. “I really caught one.”

“First time?” He quips sarcastically. A part of him wonders why he hasn’t gotten up and left you altogether yet.

“Cut me some slack,” you complain, eyeing him from the side again. You gently run a finger along the back of the frog, trying not to scare it away. “I haven’t done this in forever.”

“Clearly.”

You snort. “Yeah. Clearly.”

Rin looks at you quizzically, puzzled at your sudden change in demeanor. You seem… softer. Less agitated, at the very least. You’re gazing at the frog adoringly, as if it had somehow solved all of your problems and was dragging you into another world.

Any retort he had ready to shoot at you dies in his mouth. The anger rising in his chest extinguishes in the blink of an eye, and a deep hush settles over you as he watches in curiosity.

For a moment, the universe goes quiet. He’s gotten so used to having everything on his mind all at once that the silence is almost unnerving.

He once believed that his world would end with an injury that never healed quite right, or when he was too old for any team to want him.

He once believed that his world would end when he could no longer imagine the feel of a ball between his palms.

He once believed that his world would end the day he couldn’t play football anymore—that the only thing that would ever kill him was if the chance of standing alongside his brother died with him.

But he was wrong.

Itoshi Rin’s world ends with the bellow of a firework.

In a few years, he would think of this stretch of a few seconds fondly. He would squeeze you a little tighter with his chin resting on your shoulder, staring up at a colourful sky. He would think it was poetic, in a way, that you were the one who painted his world in the same hues of shimmering gold.

Rin remembers, though, that only one thought had crossed his mind.

I’m so screwed.

He can see every fine detail of your face, illuminated in all the colours of the rainbow. And he can’t help but think you are the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. He can trace each intricate curve of your nose to your chin to the surprised parting of your lips; the way your lashes flutter as you blink rapidly, tensed from the sudden explosion.

The light fades faster than it appeared, yet it feels like a millennium has passed. The reverbing echo of the firework crackles across the sky, thundering in his ears so loud that he can feel it pounding in his chest.

(Or is that his heart? He can’t tell. He feels dizzy.)

Darkness envelops your bodies again, save for the dim glow of distant lanterns. Every part of you is seared into his memory, a floating image when he blinks.

The frog leaps from your hands back into the water, leaving nothing but ripples behind.

You stay there with your hands outstretched, looking lonely under the dark sky. Another one goes off above your heads, signalling the start of the display.

“There you are, Rin!” Bachira and Isagi come rushing over from the path, excited smiles and mirth bubbling in their laughs as they approach. “We thought you went home without us already!”

Rin slowly blinks out of his reverie. For a second, he glances in your direction again just to catch your eyes.

“I almost did,” he grumbles, forcing himself not to stare.

“Fireworks are starting!” Isagi yanks Rin to his feet and begins dragging him away before he can even protest.

Without turning around, he can feel the weight of your eyes in the back of his head. There’s an unfamiliar ache in his chest, and the name etched down his pinky burns infinitely hot.

Later at home, he stares at the spot where Sae used to sit back when he still came to Japan for anything other than to take a new passport photo.

“My soulmate’s name showed up,” he had mumbled that night to break the tense silence. It was strange that he still felt like he owed his brother that much—to make his visit as normal as possible despite having his heart carved open.

Sae only looked at him blankly, spoon halting just above his bowl. He was eerily still, quietly deciding how to react. Then,

“Good for you,” he said. And nothing more.

Rin squeezes his eyes shut and he feels warmth rolling down his cheeks. He quickly wipes the tears away, pretending as if they never existed.

He spends the rest of the night trying to forget your face.

(And the next year trying to recreate it in his dreams.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2019

Rin makes it another 275 days before he finally remembers every piece of the puzzle that is your existence.

He saw you in his sleep. The back of your head, anyway.

You were sitting in his favourite café, at the table he claimed for himself right by the window. You ordered a coffee but let it sit for so long that the ice melted. Then, you wiped up the condensation rolling down the frosty glass with your finger.

Rin watched you from afar, observing you the way he wished he did last summer.

Maybe then he could have dived deep into the recesses of his brain to remember why exactly you struck him so. But there he was, stuck watching the back of your head as you gazed out the window.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your fingers drummed mindlessly against the wooden table, reciting a rhythm just slightly louder than the pounding of his own heart.

“Can you leave me alone?” He finally called out, hoping it would stop your incessant beating.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“You’re annoying me,” he hissed. Annoying for disturbing his peace and quiet. Annoying for plaguing his dreams even after all these days.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Seriously,” he grunted, standing up from his seat so fast that the chair scraped horribly against the wooden floor. Still, you didn’t pay him any mind, instead more interested in the faceless people walking by. “Knock it off!”

Tap.

He bit the inside of his cheek in hesitation, the itch in the back of his mind ever present. “What’s your name?”

Silence.

You finally turned his way. Slowly. Agonizingly slow. And Rin was right—you were still so beautiful, 275 days later.

Grinning at him big and bright, you almost seemed to collapse in on yourself with joy. Like a star about to implode, or maybe more akin to a firework.

Either way, his breath was stolen from him.

You silently mouthed your name, making sure he saw every vowel and accentuated syllable. Warmth flooded him in every way—probably brought on by the racing of his heart.

It was impossible that his soulmate was someone like this. Someone whose smile looked like it could heal even the deepest wounds.

You grabbed his attention again with a big wave of the arms, and he watched in anticipation.

“You’re—”

Rin followed your mouth as you sounded out the words without a voice.

“—smiling!”

He reached up to run his fingers along his bottom lip. And you were right, he realized, as he traced it midway up his cheek.

(When did he start smiling?)

(Why?)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rin thinks about you just as much in the waking world as he does in his dreams.

It’s spring, though snow is still settled over the eaves of homes that he passes on the way to the grocery store. Apparently the winter cold is supposed to be especially long and bitter this year, permeating until mid-May.

He stares at his feet as they mark the virgin snow, decorating his sneakers white and making his feet cold.

Did you walk through the same snow this morning?

Then, when he’s going through the motion of smelling the bottom of pineapples at the store:

Do you like pineapple? What if you’re allergic?

(He shakes his head and puts them away. He suddenly isn’t craving it.)

His obsession with you has only intensified as the year has gone on. If you ever peered into his mind, he would receive a well-deserved slap across the face.

The soulmate mark engraved down his pinky has never bothered him so badly.

It’s like you’re constantly with him—a ghost haunting him, or perhaps more like a curse. Thinking about you takes up unnecessary space in his head. Space that should be dedicated to football, and football only.

He's about to go home so he can make a list outlining the ways he can forget about you.

(Ironic, he knows, but in all honesty he already exhausted all of his options from his first list.)

But then he comes to a stop outside of his favourite café. It looks the same, even has the same advertisements plastered in the window as the last time he was here.

He hesitates at the door, but when he walks in it smells the same. It's decorated the same. Not a single table is out of place.

He walks up to his regular spot, runs his fingers along the wood where he remembers you tapping in his dream.

There's no sign of your existence here.

Rin shakes his head in annoyance, cursing himself out in his head because he was stupid enough to think he would run into you here.

Then disappointment floods his body, like a dam had been released in his chest and it's flowing unstoppably to every piece of him.

(Wait, why is he disappointed? He really needs to take a nap.)

He runs his hand through his hair as a nervous reflex, simultaneously relieved and irritated that you're nowhere to be seen.

It takes him a minute to recollect himself, to realize that he probably looks like a crazy person just standing beside an empty table like a lost child who doesn't know where to go, and decides to just go home.

He pulls into the line to get a drink for his walk home when—

"Thanks!"

His heart drops.

You waltz out of the back, tying your apron around your waist as you exchange spots in the break room with one of your coworkers.

Rin is about to die, seriously. You must be new here, since he's been to this café more times than he can count and he's never seen you before. Or was it that he was specifically looking out for you this time?

Whatever the reason, he's dumbfounded.

“Hey,” your acknowledgment makes him freeze in his spot. “Frog guy?”

He looks at you stupidly, rubbing his eyes like a cartoon character as if he’s imagining you standing right in front of him.

His gaze drifts down to your name tag, fresh and newly printed with white marker. Signed at the end is a little flower, petals swirled into tiny hearts.

Your existence before him is undeniable.

"Um. Yeah," he sputters in disbelief.

"I..." You clear your throat, looking as bewildered as he feels. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

'You're my soulmate. Of course we'd run into each other,' he thinks to himself. Out loud, though:

"Yeah. Me neither."

The person behind him in line coughs quietly, impatiently tapping their foot. Rin takes the hint and quietly tells you what he wants. You lean in across the counter to hear him better, and his face grows warm.

Once you fill in the boxes on the cup, you place it down and move it to the side for someone to fill. It catches his eye immediately.

Itoshi Rin is scribbled neatly down the side of his cup.

“How did you...?”

You awkwardly shift in your spot, evidently embarrassed as you fiddle with the strings of your apron. Then, with your own hands.

“W-Well…”

His eyes dare to drop down to where your thumb is nervously slathering up and down the name on your pinky.

“Oh.”

"Sorry, I just figured—"

"It's fine," he interrupts. Your mouth snaps shut.

Tense silence stretches thin in the air, ready to shatter at any moment. But for some reason, he feels as though he's choking on nothing.

You fumble over the emptiness, quickly snatching up the cup to make his drink yourself after deciding it's too awkward to just stand there.

He watches you in a daze, half shaken and half in awe. Never in a million years would he have thought a dream would lead him back to you.

When you turn back around with a full cup, you look equally stunned.

“Itoshi—”

“Rin. It’s just Rin.”

You look at him in surprise, lashes fluttering rapidly as you let it sink in.

It's not your fault. You don't know that it's a sore spot that he just so happens to share the same last name with the person he despises most in the world.

It's not your fault that he has a quick temper and his voice raises slightly, enough to make you flinch back just a tiny bit.

And it's definitely not your fault that it stings so much—that he had expected you to speak to him as if you'd already known him for a lifetime and not as if you were just two strangers looking at each other from across a bar counter.

“O-Okay," you take a deep breath, cheeks puffed out and expression unreadable.

You slide the cup across the counter and he catches it in his hand.

He debates whether or not he should say more, like apologize for snapping at you. But then someone calls you by your name, and the way it rolls so beautifully off their tongue catches him off guard.

"Sorry. See you, Rin," you smile sweetly. Maybe a little awkwardly, a small step toward the one he dreamed about. And his heart is set in motion.

Rin decides that today won't be the day.

Another day, he'll be brave enough to crack a joke so dry that you try and scrub his name off your skin. And another day, he will ask for your number because, yeah, you might be the most alluring person he's ever met.

As he turns to take his leave after just staring at the spot you were standing in for a solid few seconds, he can hear some of the other baristas clamouring for you.

He doesn't want to look. Really, honestly, he doesn't.

But he does anyway.

It's just a quick glance over his shoulder—nothing more than a fleeting moment as he takes the chance to look at you one more time.

Those two seconds is all it takes for him to realize just how much trouble he's in.

You're laughing big and toothy, waving your hand in front of your face dismissively as your coworkers poke fun at how flustered you are. Then your hands are clasped over your stomach and you've doubled down a little in your awkward fit.

His heart has never beat so loud in his own ears.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Itoshi Rin used to smile just for the sake of smiling, once upon a time.

He had aunties who would pinch him by the cheek and fawn over him, cooing about how he looked just like his mother. How his face would cherub and the apples of his cheeks were bright red. Even when he grew out of his baby face, people would tell him how wonderful his smile was.

Sae rarely ever smiled, so it was something exclusive. He never felt like he was standing in his shadow. It was special—the kind of praise only one Itoshi would know.

Rin has forgotten how to smile like that.

He smiles to be polite to his family, if ever. Even then, it's not like he owes them that much. At some point, it became too much effort. And he had no reason to do it.

It was always a tiny thought bothering him in the back of his mind:

I'll never meet my soulmate if I'm always scowling like this.

He thought that was what he wanted, anyway. He wouldn't need to worry about running into his soulmate if no one ever looked his way. If everyone feared him enough not to spare him a second glance.

He doubts everything he ever thought as he sits on the edge of his bed staring at his desk.

It's lit up by a single lamp, shining down on his empty coffee cup like a spotlight opened up by the heavens themselves.

Your phone number is written just below his name.

Rin had almost tossed it into the trash without a second thought earlier in the day. He would have, if it weren't for the loose dog that blitzed by him and made him drop it.

Fate just loves to mess with him.

He picked it up and his thumb had stopped over the number. It was written so small, as if you had wanted him to miss it. Or perhaps you wanted to test destiny yourself—to see if the planets would align and he would discover your seven digits there for him to find.

And now he's home. He's been home, just looking. Contemplating. Stressing.

He migrates from the edge of the bed and settles into his desk chair. Then he gets up, moves back to the bed, and flops down. An endless cycle, back and forth, pushing and pulling.

Rin plops down onto his desk seat and sighs in frustration, ruffling his hair around before his forehead slams into the table.

Every part of his mind screams at him to stop. To toss the cup away and forget today ever happened. His head raises from his arms and he stares at the set of numbers illuminated on the paper, taunting him.

Finally, he exhales through his nose, sitting up straight and reaching for the cup to toss. His fingers delicately brush along your phone number.

“So dumb…” He huffs, eventually finding his phone instead and opening his contacts.

It’s nearly midnight. He tries to imagine your face as you wait by your phone for a message from him, that stupidly hopeful glimmer in your eyes, and he feels sick to his stomach as he sends it.

Rin: hey. it’s rin.

He throws his phone down on the desk again, screen down so he can’t cringe at himself. A few minutes pass in complete silence as he sulks.

He considers that you may have gone to bed already, or you were offended by the fact that he ignored your offer to connect all day and instantly blocked him. Maybe you thought he never saw your number at all.

Then his phone buzzes. His body moves on autopilot, snatching it up faster than he can realize what he’s doing. He’s halfway through the embarrassing thought that he just immediately read your message after you sent it as your text sinks in.

Unknown: hi! it’s great to hear from you ヾ(〃^∇^)ﾉ

Unknown: i was starting to think you were never gonna text lol

Rin: i wasn’t

He chews his lip for a moment before quickly following up:

Rin: but i changed my mind. just cause.

Unknown: hahaha got it got it. ‘just cause’ (˘◡˘)

Unknown: rin

Unknown: wait nvm

Unknown: whatever

Unknown: rin

Rin: what

Unknown: let’s get coffee ^ ^

He stares at the screen in disbelief, watching the typing bubble pop up and disappear again and again. He can imagine again what kind of smile you must have on your face right now, or maybe you look flustered, or maybe this all means nothing to you at all and this is your way of being polite.

Regardless of the reason, he eventually types out his response.

Rin: ok

Christ, he’s so tepid.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2020

He comes to memorize every part of you, like how the sun kisses the horizon and the moon knows the tides.

Intimately, almost—if he didn’t overthink the way your touch lingered on him he could easily ignore the way it made his heart pound in his ears.

Rin learns the feeling of your fingers against his skin as you compress an ice pack to his knee. He knows your laugh—can pick apart sarcasm from genuine cheer unlike most other people he encounters. He’s never been good at reading people yet for some reason you’ve become an open book for him.

It’s not fair that you’ve ensnared him this way, that he can’t seem to run from you (because his favourite coffee is from your café and he can’t be bothered to find a new place). That he finds himself instinctively reaching over to his phone when he can’t sleep (he has to make sure his alarms are on, might as well text you goodnight while he’s at it). And you’ve become annoyingly comfortable (he doesn’t have an excuse for this one—your lap is just conveniently a very nice place to rest his head).

He must be an open book, too.

At some point he probably stopped trying to hide his growing feelings for you, though you either didn’t notice his sudden shift or you didn’t care.

Vulnerability has never been a part of Rin, even before Itoshi Sae ruined his life.

He despises how you so easily pry him apart, skinning him alive with your hand lathering down his chest as you laugh.

Still, he’s grown accustomed to your fingers stringing through his hair, to the way your head tilts when he explains football plays to you, to the obvious way you fluster when he attempts (poorly) at flirting with you.

He’s gotten especially fond of the way you meet him at the end of his practices with such sweet, wandering hands—pushing the hair stuck to his forehead from sweat away from his eyes; using a towel to wipe up his neck; the squeeze you give his palms as you examine them to see if there are any new cuts and bruises.

Usually, he’s the epitome of confidence in his plays. Today, however, his cheeks burn as you approach him with the same honeyed smile.

“My shots were shoddy,” he admits before you can even get a word out. You only raise a brow, hands faltering in front of you. “That was lame.”

“I think you’re good.”

“Good,” he frowns. “But not great?”

“The greatest,” you quickly correct yourself, smiling at his cravings for praise. You’re armed with a fresh towel like you always are, reaching up to clean his face as if it’s the only thing you were born to do.

He relishes in your gentle touch, peering at you through his lashes while you prattle on about how amazing he was even though he missed half of his shots.

You were so blindly supportive, it sickens him.

Not because he felt you were being disingenuous, but because he’s not deserving of your praise.

For the first time in a long time, it feels as though his soul is disconnected from his body. He used to walk the earth this way—uninterested in his surroundings and obsessed with only one thing.

Itoshi Sae. Itoshi Sae. Itoshi Sae.

Suddenly, he’s thirteen again and gasping for air; screaming into his pillow and trashing their shared awards until his mother comes rushing in to stop him. He’s alone in a field, abandoned and crushed.

It’s not like he’d never lost before, even in front of you. Loss was just a part of football as much as he hated it.

But your praise only makes his stomach turn, because he knows you mean it.

You truly do believe he’s the best, when really he’s been futile in his attempts to catch up with the big brother he admired so much as a kid.

“Stop,” he gently interrupts.

Rin tries to use his hair to hide the wetness of his eyes, with little success. You can see right through him, unfortunately. It’s a talent he wishes you didn’t have.

“Rin?” You say softly, reaching up to brush the hair out of the way. He doesn’t try and back up or swat your hand away, instead letting you see his miserable expression. You sigh quietly, looking more exasperated than surprised.

“Sorry,” he mutters halfheartedly.

You shake your head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Shame boils in his stomach at your reassurance. There is something to apologize for. Here you are, supporting him with all your heart, and all he can think about is his stupid brother. How he’ll never catch up. How he’ll never be good enough.

Doesn’t your kindness warrant his attention at the very least?

“Come on,” you tug at his hand. “Let’s get you a pick-me-up.”

Rin abides silently, body following yours off the field and onto the streets though his mind has floated off elsewhere.

He tries to count how many steps you take in between the field and the destination, but loses count somewhere around three hundred. Then he moves on to counting the hairs on the back of your head. He loses count at one hundred. Eventually, he gives up and opts for staring at your conjoined hands while he lags behind.

When you come to a halt, he nearly bumps into your back.

The ringing in his ears stops as he blinks at his surroundings. Waves crash against the shore of the sandbank, singing the song of the ocean. It had been so long since Rin walked down this stretch of the shore, he almost forgot what the sea looked like.

“Wait here,” you urge as you hold him by the shoulders then disappear around the corner.

He collapses at the wall separating land from sea, swinging his legs under the railings to sit comfortably as he remembers doing when he was a kid. His gym bag is abandoned behind him, cleats and all.

When you return, you shove a popsicle into his hand.

He’s confused at first, just looking absently at the packaging. It must be for a concerning amount of time, because you eventually pipe up.

“Do you need me to open it for you?”

Rin glares at you and your teasing smile. Carefully, he unpackages the treat and pops it in his mouth.

Sweetness melts over his tongue and he exhales sharply through his nose. You watch him in amusement with your own treat stuck in your mouth.

Silence engulfs you, eating Rin from the inside out until he feels ill. He holds his half-eaten popsicle in front of him, watching it melt down his hand.

You stare at him for a second before nudging him lightly with your elbow.

“I was being serious. You were really good. I can’t even imagine playing like you do.”

Rin’s stomach turns. The last thing he wants is your pity.

“You don’t have to be so nice,” he mumbles, resting his chin on the railing. “42 percent.”

“42 percent?” You echo, peering over the railing to get a better look at his face.

“The percent of shots I made today.”

“Come on,” you urge gently. “Aren’t you being too hard on yourself?”

“If I’m not hard on myself, I’ll never—” he stops, choking lightly on his spit. When you don’t interrupt, he shoves the popsicle back in his mouth. “Whatever. You wouldn't get it.”

It’s quiet again, save for the crashing of waves upon rock. Rin thinks for a moment that maybe he had gone too far, or that his little meltdown had freaked you out.

But when he finally dares to look at you again, you’re smiling.

“Maybe not,” you admit with a whisper. “But I do know this…” You reach over and cup his cheek with your free hand, thumb sweeping the expanse of his cheek soothingly. “There is no one—and I mean no one—who works harder than you do.”

He swallows thickly, subconsciously nudging his face a little further into your palm.

“You deserve to be a little kinder to yourself.”

The way his heart catches in his throat is strange. He can’t describe it. The warmth in his belly is foreign, but it’s pleasant.

For the first time in the year he’s gotten to know you, the thought crosses his mind:

I think I’m in love with you.

Rin’s mouth opens with the idea, but he forces it shut just as fast.

Fear grips his lungs and squeezes, stealing his air and forcing him to pull away from your touch.

“Okay,” he breathes in resignation.

You seem stunned by his sudden retreat, smile faltering ever so slightly. But you recover quickly, hugging yourself as you slouch over the railing.

Conversation moves on just like that. He appreciated that about you, too. He never had to dwell.

It feels nice, everything about this; to have his legs dangling over the edge of the cement, feet barely ghosting over the surface of the water; to have a popsicle melting between his teeth while he listens to you talk.

For some reason, it feels as though he’s reclaiming lost time, reliving a moment he thought he would never have again.

When he checks his popsicle stick, it tells him he’s a winner for the first time since he was thirteen.

(He finally allows himself to believe it when your knee gently knocks into his.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2021

“Frog cotton candy?”

“Frog shaped cotton candy,” Rin corrects, peering around the giant fluff of candy to look at you quizzically.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “But why?”

He grumbles quietly, cheeks a soft shade of pink as he shoves the treat into your hands.

“I thought you’d like it. Nevermind,” he deadpans, turning around to toss it into the garbage.

Your laugh crescendos and he feels his heart squeeze with affection. When your hand stops him by the forearm, he thinks he might explode.

“It’s cute.”

You pick apart the floss ruthlessly with your fingers, and he watches almost in a trance—hypnotized by just your existence.

(When you finally pop the sugar into your mouth, he imagines it melting on his own tongue. The thought makes him unbearably warm and he forces it away.)

His fascination with you doesn't end there.

There's a certain charm to you that he can't understand—something that draws him in, tantalizing but terrifying at the same time.

He can't help the way he watches in a daze, the way you've ensnared all his attention and taken up the space in his mind.

Rin has never been good at being kind, but here he is.

Here he is, bringing you cotton candy because he thought it was stupid but cute.

Here he is, rolling up the sleeves of your yukata with a gentle scolding when you rush over to catch goldfish.

And here he is, letting you cling to his arm as if he's the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

He really, really hates it—how mushy you make his brain feel.

He's halfway through re-rolling your sleeves with a half-hearted scowl on his face when you stop him, hand pressed to his forearm.

“Listen, Rin.”

“Hm?” He leans down so that he can peer at your face hidden behind your almost nonexistent candy floss.

“I have to show you something.”

Rin stops dead in his tracks, raising a brow as he fully turns toward you. “What is it?”

“Can you close your eyes for me?”

His heart does a somersault in his chest. “You’re not doing anything weird, are you?”

“Who do you think I am?” You sputter.

He lets out a long sigh before complying, squeezing his eyes shut. After a long silence, he considers peeking a little bit.

That is, until he feels your breath gently fanning over his parted lips.

Nearly leaping back, he wills himself to stay grounded and slowly slides his hands up your arms until he gets to your shoulders. As he imagined, your body is impossibly close to his.

It takes every bit of concentration he has not to waver. If he really tries, he can focus on how your breath smells sweet of candy. How your hair blows softly with the summer breeze, tickling his cheeks. How you smell. How you breathe.

(Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His heart is about to beat out of his chest. Is that okay?)

You tense up in his hold and suddenly you’re retreating from him, swiftly pulling out of his arms. Just as he’s about to ask you what happened, there’s a piece of candy shoved into his mouth.

“You wanted to try it, didn’t you?” You ask rather breathlessly. He opens his eyes, looking at you curiously.

Rin has never seen this expression on you before, lips pulled tight in embarrassment and pupils blown. You look more like a wild animal caught in a cage than someone who just made a move on him.

He gingerly takes the empty paper cone from your hands and folds it up, no longer able to meet your gaze lest he explode on the spot.

“Yeah,” he says softly, shuffling over to dump it into a bin. “Thanks.”

When he turns around to look at you again, his breath gets caught in his throat.

Why are you laughing?

You giggle into your palm, hiding your gleeful smile from him as you double over slightly.

“Your face is all red!” You holler.

He grunts in embarrassment, using the back of his hand to hide his own face. “Shut the hell up,” he spits.

“It’s almost like you wanted me to kiss you!”

“Oh my god, please drop it.”

“No way! I’ve never seen you look like that before!”

(‘Speak for yourself,’ he thinks.)

“So what if I did?”

Your laughter halts as if it was swallowed into the pits of your stomach. Slowly unraveling to stand up straight, he sees another expression he’s never been able to imagine on you, but he can’t quite place it.

“Did what?” You murmur.

“Want you to kiss me.”

Your face is warm under the glow of lanterns, eyes shimmering with the overhead lights. Rin watches your mouth open and close repeatedly as you try and formulate some sort of response.

A firework explodes atop of you, and he wonders if it just saved you.

You seem jarred for only a moment more until you jolt, grabbing him roughly by the arm and giving him a pull.

“I just remembered,” you gasp. “I actually did have something to show you!”

Rin doesn’t get a word in before you’re dragging him along by the arm. With each boom of an explosion, your footsteps pick up, building into a full blown sprint out of the festival grounds and through the thicket.

You tug him along, guiding him by the hand through the winding path of trees and logs. His stamina is better than yours but you’re pushing up the hill despite your huffing and puffing—it makes him laugh with you.

When you break free of the forest, Rin’s eyes focus on a field of plush grass and buttercups.

You let go of his hand, flinging yourself forward and spinning on your heel to exaggerate how wide the opening is with your arms.

“Isn’t it great?” You shout over the fireworks. “Away from the crowd!”

He rushes up to you so that you can stop yelling, invading your personal space until you can hear him just at his normal volume.

“It’s perfect,” he tells you earnestly.

You grin up at him widely before pulling him along to the edge of the clearing. You plop down together, eyes glued to the sky as the fireworks rage on.

Rin only lasts a few seconds before his eyes drift to the side, trying to drink in your expression. It’s become a habit of his to try and imprint your very existence into his brain.

Against his better judgment, his hand creeps toward yours until your fingers are overlapped.

Thankfully, you don’t use the opportunity to tease him about it, instead shifting a little closer until you’re practically burrowed into his side. If it were anyone else, he would have shoved them away.

(When did he stop trying to push you away?)

When your pinkies slowly close together, he feels as if he can’t breathe properly.

Mark-to-mark, it’s as though he is full of all the love he’s ever felt for you from every life—past or future. Like there’s a love that exists within him that transcends lifetimes, if it were even possible.

If he were to peer into another dimension, would you still be together like this? Would you be plucking buttercups and mindlessly twirling them between your fingers? Would he be itching to envelop you in his arms just to devour you?

His thoughts cease when you take a deep breath.

“I used to come here alone,” you admit.

“No one took you?” He asks. Your gaze is piercing the night sky, never leaving the show. He can see the bloom of colours in them.

“Not since I was little, but I always loved it here.”

The question burns hot in Rin’s mind: even if it was a little lonely sometimes?

He remembers back to the night that he first saw you, with your hands dipping into the murky waters of a frog pond and an air of desolation surrounding you. Then he remembers how he couldn’t sleep that night. Not with the image of you crouching there alone burned into his memory.

“Did you know this festival is a celebration of love?” He suddenly asks.

Oh what the fuck? Oh, god. Why did he say that?

That was so lukewarm of him. So stupid. So pointless and lame.

He just wanted something to say to you, something that would make him stop thinking about how you might have been alone for all that time before you knew him.

The silence burns between you, tense and awkward until he starts stuttering out something else to fill the void. But then you look at him, slow and intrigued and so damn amused that he can feel heat rising to the tips of his ears.

“I had no idea.”

There’s a longing in your expression that tells a different story. A twitch of your pinky against his that gives away your blatant lie.

And, damnit. Here he is again, four years later under the same stars. Under the same fireworks. Only this time, he’s able to see your face even closer as it lights up a million different colours—teal like his eyes; rose like his cheeks; golden like the heart he’s tried so hard to protect.

Four years later and he still thinks you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen: pinkies interlocked, sheepish smile on your face, an undeniable shake in your voice that means you have more that you’re too nervous to say.

For a moment he considers finally letting go of all the things keeping him bolted and chained where he stands, swallowing the key to the cage surrounding his fragile, thumping heart. And for that fleeting second, he feels as though he’s the bravest man alive—that nothing could stop him even if you were to turn away and snub him out with the heel of your foot.

But how could he open his mouth and tell you anything when all he feels is the sick twisting of his stomach, the daunting glare of the older brother he adored so much, and the coldness of snow soaking his clothes as he sits in a field and cries?

There’s a burning, raging fire within him. Something primal and afraid and unchanging despite how much he wants to fall into your arms the way your shared etchings say he should.

It screams at him: run away. Run. Run. Run. This will only end in hurt.

He’s too fucked up. Too messed in the head and too quick to anger because he’s actually soft at heart, easy to betray—

“Rin.”

Your hand swiftly captures his face and he’s dragged unceremoniously out of his reverie.

Of course you would be able to pick out his turmoil by expression alone. By the droop of his lips into a frown—not the annoyed one he would flash his teammates, or the grimace he would scare children away with. The kind that’s sad and slow and timid, like an animal caught in a net.

“I’m really happy that we’re friends.”

“Friends?” He breathes, half confused and half incredulous.

Deep down he knows that it’s an attempt to comfort him without being too sappy. Maybe you can sense it somewhere in your soul that he would probably break down and sob if you were to make him feel any more vulnerable than he already is with you. It’s an effort to take away whatever guilt he feels and give him a chance to relax.

However, he can see a different tale in your eyes.

Loneliness as empty as the sky on a cloudy night. A yearning for more, for someone, for him, to fill the gap. I’m tired of waiting. That’s all he can read beneath the sea of colour exploding in your irises.

It only makes him feel worse, but he allows himself to be lied to anyway if only to feel the warmth of your skin against his just a bit longer.

“Yeah.”

Your pinky twitches again. He can feel the brush of your name against his, the grate of your matching soul marks. Your eyes tear away from his and are glued to the infinite sky above once more. To the stars you know are there but are covered by smoke and fire.

Rin only stares at you. He can’t focus on the explosions of fireworks anymore, not when you’re right in front of him looking so perfect. His summer treasure.

“Yeah?”

He knows he sounds dumb, repeating everything like an oaf who can’t fathom what’s being said. You giggle and it floors him.

“Just being able to stand here with you—” you glance at him again, only for a second. He can see the exhaustion in that moment, but he’s too selfish to pry. “—I think I’m the luckiest person alive.”

“Even if…” He swallows harshly. It feels like shrapnel cutting down his throat. “Even if I can’t be more?”

“Even so.”

There’s a pause and you open your mouth to say more, maybe to give him an ultimatum or to elaborate on your feelings, but then you’re interrupted by the end of the display.

Counteless fireworks explode above you in the finale. Rin can hear the awestruck gasps of families down the hill, the distant cries of children and the faint shutter of cameras filling the air.

He realizes then: he’s been smiling. His cheeks hurt from how big it’s gotten. And you’re smiling at him, too.

(The fireworks rage on, but in the end, all he can look at is you.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2022

Falling in love with Itoshi Rin was one of the most foolish, most wonderful things that could have happened to you.

He was an enigma in and of itself, a mystery of a soulmate who was able to love you wholeheartedly and push you away at the same time.

There were nights where you would stay up wondering why he was your soulmate when it seemed like all he wanted to be was alone. Other times, you fell asleep smiling to yourself knowing that somewhere deep down you both belonged to each other.

The universe chose you. The universe chose him. It was indisputable, yet you still had doubts.

Tonight is one of those “foolish” nights. It seems as though you have been stood up.

For three hours you’ve waited in the same spot at the gates of the festival, watching families and couples pass by but never the one person you’d wait until the end of the world for. The sun has long since gone to sleep over the horizon and the streets are fully lit up with lanterns for the festivities.

6 pm. That was the time Rin promised he would meet you. In the past, he was always late but at least had the decency to tell you beforehand that you could go ahead without him. Only when you arrived and sat down to wait for him had he finally messaged you.

Rin: gonna be late. see you at 7.

7 pm. That was the rescheduled time. It was when you expected to see him walking up to you in his yukata that you begged him to wear this year, matching adoringly with yours. And at 7 pm you would tell him. You would tell him everything.

For months prior you had practiced almost pathetically so, recited and perfected your speech while staring at your reflection in a mirror. You’d written him a letter, too.

7 pm. You were finally going to thank Rin for everything. For accompanying you to such a silly festival even though you know he loathes it. For meeting you under the stars and the moon and the fireworks time and time again. For bringing life back into a childhood memory that you had long since hated.

7 pm. You were going to tell him thank you. You were going to tell him you loved him, just as it had been written in the stars many years before you were born.

It’s 9 pm, nearing 10 and the start of the fireworks show. He missed the entire night without explanation.

At 9:58 pm, just as you’re about to give up all hope, you finally come face to face with teal eyes and a stupidly handsome face sheen with sweat. It shouldn’t hurt so much, the way he looks at you so dismissively as if he hadn’t blown you off all night.

“Sorry,” he mutters disingenuously, attempting to brush past you without a second thought. “Let’s go, I’m thirsty.”

He has his gym bag slung over his shoulder and a windbreaker over his uniform. No sign of the yukata you had picked out for him to wear.

You don’t follow him, staring at his back in disbelief. When he realizes you aren’t trailing behind, he turns on his heel and raises a brow in question. “Are you coming?”

“I was waiting for you all night,” you tell him coldly. I was waiting for you all this time and you never showed up.

He swallows thickly, suddenly overcome by guilt because of your downcast expression. “I know. I lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time?” You scoff incredulously. Your mouth opens as if you have more to say, but you’re interrupted by a bang.

Rin’s eyes flutter closed. He can’t listen to this. He can’t watch.

He knows this all too well. He knew it all along.

The universe was wrong. Itoshi Rin was never cut out to be someone’s soulmate.

“We’re missing it…”

Your back is turned to him but all he can imagine is the terrible expression you must be making right now, twisted in sadness and anger. The worse image is a completely blank face—unfeeling and cold. He doesn’t even want to think about it.

Booms echo in the distance yet all he can focus on is the faint hum in his ears, the horrible churning in his stomach and the fog of guilt clouding his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly that he’s sure you can’t even hear him under the deep, bellowing explosions over the horizon.

He doesn’t remember the last time he apologized for anything like this. Being cold and aloof was just in his nature. Never before had he felt like it was necessary to be remorseful for the way he is—for how he was made to be.

The slight tremble of your shoulders and the way you use the back of your sleeves to wipe tears from your eyes force the words out of him before he can stop it. He tells you again,

“I’m sorry.”

He weakly attempts to grab you by the arms, holding you from behind so he can make you look at him. You jerk away fast as lightning, knocking him away as you swivel around to glare.

“Why didn’t you come?” You demand. There’s anger shaking in your voice. Rin doesn’t know how to respond to it, not when you’ve always been so understanding and kind. Perhaps he was too cruel for you if he was going to break you this way.

“I got caught up with—”

“With football, right?” You laugh bitterly, taking a generous step back. Hurt pours from every inch of your expression and all it does is make his heart ache.

“Stop,” he suddenly snaps. You flinch at his tone and shrink back, only adding to his guilt. He always had the worst temper. “Don’t be like this. You know it was important,” he explains, gentler this time. Softer, trying to coax you back over.

There’s a beat of complete silence, save for the hollowed explosions in the distance. Rin blinks at you a couple times before his frayed nerves finally calm again. And then he realizes something terrible.

The look in your eyes, the deflation of your shoulders—this is what utter defeat looks like. For a moment deja vu rushes through his blood, bringing him back to a time when he too felt as miserable as you.

Every year he’s had the opportunity to read your expression: I’m tired of waiting. But he always foolishly assumed you would still wait around for him forever. That your patience would be as infinite as the stars in the sky. That just because he had the privilege of having his name scrawled down your pinky, he would be guaranteed to have you.

It was disgustingly selfish.

Just as he opens his mouth to apologize again, you storm up to him and shove the piece of paper roughly into his chest. With the closed gap, he can clearly see the tears streaming down your face illuminated by warm lanterns.

“Just forget it.”

“Wait—” He catches your wrist as you push past him, stopping you in your tracks again despite your struggle to get away. “Come on, I said I’m sorry!”

“Rin,” you sniffle, voice breaking with just the syllable of his name. It makes him falter. “I’m tired.”

“But—”

“You can’t even spare me one night? Just this one night in the entire year?” You breathe, no longer trying to dance around the subject. “What is it with you? What are you so afraid of?”

Being put in the spotlight never bothered Rin before. It was easy enough to ignore when all his life he was watched carefully. But it’s different with you; you’re the only one looking at him in this moment yet it feels like the weight of a million pairs of eyes at once.

An answer comes quickly to his mind, almost natural. He knows exactly what’s wrong with him.

He’s afraid of being left behind again. Of being hurt. Rin is terrified of love and being loved because he’s too pathetically fragile.

The pieces of his heart are clumsily glued together and he’s scared that even the smallest turbulence would send it shattering into a billion shards again. He doesn’t know how to put himself back together properly anymore.

Itoshi Sae permanently fucked him up.

Though they were on slightly better terms now, the scars would always haunt him. The simple solution is to shut everyone else out, to protect the weak heart he harbours.

If he told you that, would you understand? Or would you try and claw his name off your skin?

You take his silence as an answer and pry away from him again, holding yourself protectively—guarding yourself from the catastrophe that follows Rin wherever he goes.

“Goodbye, Rin.”

He doesn’t watch you go.

The nearest bench becomes his temporary home. He could do hundreds of plays in a football game and never tire, but for some reason your disdain has sucked every ounce of energy from his body.

It doesn’t register that he’s still holding the paper you forced into his hands until it crinkles in his hold. He slowly unfolds it revealing ink sloppily smeared across the page.

And then he reads it. Again. And again. And again, until it’s shaking in his hold. Until the dull ache in his heart feels like the pierce of a knife.

Rin doesn’t know what to do anymore. He’s always had one clear goal for his entire life, but now everything is all muddled. Messy, like everything else he touches.

He turns everything into a disaster.

Does he chase after you and risk having his fragile heart broken all over again? Does he risk being left behind or does he close off the gate for that option entirely? He could sit in his cowardice and never change, preserving his heart forever in this moment of time; a polaroid in the slideshow of his mortality.

There’s a familiarity to this all. Perhaps he had lived through this decision a million lives before this. Maybe he would live through it again an infinite amount of times, so long as it was your name etched into his skin.

Was he as messed up in this life as he was in every other?

If he had ruined everything in this life, if he made the wrong choice and drove you away in hatred until you drew your last breath, then maybe he could make it all up to you in the next one.

Or, if that were the case, maybe he was born into this world only to love you—to make up for the millenia where he ran away.

Rin’s legs have never moved so fast. Not in football. Not even from his brother. If you were the light at the end of the tunnel then he would keep chasing you forever, he thinks. Until his wounded heart gave out.

Of all the stupid decisions he’s made in his life, have any of them amounted to anything? He’s going to give it one last try. One more chance to prove to himself that not everything he touches burns to ashes.

“Wait!”

You visibly startle, eyes wide as you turn to see Rin dashing toward you. He doesn’t give you even a moment to ask questions, to wonder why he’s coming back to break your heart again.

You’re engulfed in a hug faster than you can blink, stumbling back from the force of his body colliding with yours until your sandals get kicked off your feet.

“Rin?” You murmur his name in disbelief, breathless even though you weren’t the one sprinting down the road.

“Just give me one more chance,” he stammers out. You can feel the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders as he holds you and fights for air simultaneously. Your hands twitch at your sides but you remain lifeless in his arms.

He tries again: “Let me prove it to you. Let me prove that it wasn’t some freak accident that led me to you. That my name on your skin is meant to be there.”

“Don’t do this,” you tell him quietly, lips brushing against his ear as you speak. “I don’t want to be loved and feared at the same time.”

“But…” Rin squeezes your body against his, almost desperately. Clinging to what he has ruined. “For once in my life, I want something more.”

I don’t want to be alone anymore.

You hesitantly shift, hands slowly trailing up his back until your body is curling against his. He can trace the outline of your body against his, like a puzzle piece that he was missing slotted perfectly in his grasp.

“I thought my soulmate would only slow me down and break me. I was wrong. I know that now.”

He slowly rocks your bodies back and forth. You pull away until your eyes meet his, red with tears. It’s the messiest he has ever seen you, but his heart refuses to be still. It aches.

Beautiful. It’s the only word he can describe you with. It didn’t matter if you were lit up under the wondrous sky, or handing him coffee in a crowded café, or sobbing in his arms.

You would only ever be his infinitely beautiful soulmate.

It’s the only constant he would have in this life and every other, even if you were to break his heart. It would be the single greatest achievement in his time, above football, above any of his petty competitions—that your name is etched down his pinky.

It scares him. It thrills him.

With the distant roar of fireworks, he kisses you. And you allow him, hiccuping against his lips as you cry.

You stay like that for a long time, listening to the hollow shockwaves of fireworks exploding miles away. He’s the first to draw back, raking in shallow breaths. You chase him, finding solace against his lips once more but not fully indulging him with another kiss.

“Do you fear me?” You whisper into his mouth.

“More than anything,” he tells you.

“Do you love me?”

After a moment of contemplation, he answers,

“More than anything.”

You nod slowly, awkwardly pulling away from him and taking a step back. It’s your first kiss and you don’t know where you’re supposed to look anymore. Rin stops your nervous shifting with his hand swooping under your chin.

“One year. I promise.” You look at him in confusion, so he continues. “Next year, when the season and my contract are over, I’ll meet you there. At the pond.”

You seem skeptical still, with your brows knitted together and a lost haze in your eyes. He raises his pinky, the one with your name forever grafted into the skin, and offers it to you.

“I pinky promise.”

It’s so ridiculous, wearing his heart on his sleeve with something he learned about on playgrounds when he was a child. A pinky promise shouldn’t mean any more than the words he has already spoken. But for some reason, your eyes light up.

He feels nothing but relief when your pinkies lock together.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“You’ll wait for me?”

“Rin.” His name leaves you in a breathless laugh that makes his world spin. It sounds so tired yet so sweet. “I’ve been waiting all my life.”

“I’m sorry,” he says once more for good measure. You nod. A wordless acceptance.

Itoshi Rin is your soulmate. It’s not like that fact will ever change no matter the time, no matter the distance.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2023

Fate is a funny thing. Soulmates are a funny thing.

The universe threw Rin curveball after curveball, beating him down until he was nothing but a husk heavenly built for one purpose only: beat Sae. Beat Itoshi Sae.

There were times when he would lay awake at night wondering why he was given this life, why he was thrust into hardship and hurt and betrayal. How could something so perfect, something so all-knowing, be so cruel?

For as long as the name had been grafted into his skin, he resented the idea of a soulmate.

He hated the idea that only one person in the world would be his eternal weakness. That one day, one person would hold every piece of his soul in their hands. Even then, his soulmate was the other half of him—his salvation. His downfall.

They would know every inch of his skin. Every bleeding wound of his heart. Every bruise and scar along his legs from cleats and nails and gravel. Having a soulmate meant having every part of him exposed, to be judged and worshiped at the same time.

At your hands, though, he’s certain this is what he was born for—to spend the rest of his days by your side even if you were doing something as mundane as catching frogs together.

“You’re scaring them,” you hiss quietly.

Your fingers sink into the pond and Rin watches your reflections ripple as water fills your palms. Your faces contort and meld into one being. In some ways, it’s a familiar feeling—to have been intertwined with you since his very conception.

“You’re terrible at this.”

“It’s your fault!”

“Right,” he deadpans. “You haven’t caught a single one all night.”

“You were late,” you remind him with a huff, cheeks inflated. “Before you got here I was catching frogs all night. Coincidence?”

Rin makes another noise, something akin to a snort. But he doesn’t acknowledge your statement, instead reaching over to gingerly roll the sleeves of your yukata up to your elbows.

“Are you always so sloppy? Your sleeves are getting all wet.”

You glare at him from the side, delivering a deadly warning. “Are you always such a pain in the ass?”

“I get it, I get it. I said I was sorry for being late. Nii-chan really wanted to try that new ice cream place downtown.”

Your gaze drifts to him in the shimmering reflection, watching his smile soften at the mention of his big brother. It was wonderful that they were trying to patch things up.

Sae had decided to come home after all, promising Rin that they would play together again once they both took a well deserved break.

You could tell that Rin was trying his best not to make a big deal out of it, but the way he cried into your shoulder later that night said it all.

“I feel bad having you come all the way out here just to see me. Your brother is back in Japan isn’t he?”

“Yeah. And he wants to meet you.”

You nearly fall over. “What?”

“Please don’t look so starstruck about that. I feel sick.”

Laughing, you recentre yourself, sitting back on your heels with your hands on your knees. “Sorry, sorry! It’s not that…”

Rin raises a brow. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“It’s just—” you fumble, cheeks burning hot at the idea of being introduced to Rin’s family after all these years. Formally, as his partner. His soulmate. The name they had all known since he was thirteen. “What would I even say to him?”

He looks at you in bewilderment. Then, he snickers, only laughing harder when you smack his arm.

“Don’t worry about that,” he assures, reaching out to pat the top of your head. “Just be yourself. My family will love you.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, studying your reflections in the water with a soft smile. You’re staring right back at yourself, but Rin is only looking at you.

“I haven’t done anything special.”

“You lit up my world,” you laugh, turning back up to look at him properly. You make a mini explosion with your hands. “Boom! Like that. A firework.”

“You’re too corny,” he murmurs in embarrassment, turning his head away to hide his flushed face. “Can’t you explain it like a normal person?”

“No can do,” you tell him, voice gentler this time. After a pause, you shuffle your sandals around in the mud and take a deep breath. “If you want me to be totally serious…”

You lunge over and tackle him into your arms. He nearly loses his balance holding the both of you upright, stumbling back on his heels before he catches your waist. You don’t seem to share the sentiment of staying pristine, knees digging into the dirt as you squeeze him tighter.

Rin feels his heart catch in his throat the same way you’ve made it for the last six years.

“Thank you. For letting me love you. For being my soulmate.”

His hand is automatically in your hair, scratching your scalp as he smiles into your shoulder.

“I’m sure I gave you nothing but a hard time,” he grumbles.

“But I still love you.”

“Even though you had to wait?”

“Even so.”

“And that I’m a pain in the ass?”

“Even then, I do.”

Rin burrows himself into your neck, hiding his face again. It does a poor job at masking the kind of expression he’s making, though, considering how warm his skin is.

“What if I’m not good enough?”

He feels terrible—guilty that he needs to keep having this conversation with you. But you always comfort him the same way. He hopes you always will.

Drawing his head up with your muddy hands, you dirty his cheeks just to get a glimpse of him. You murmur a half-hearted sorry for making a mess.

Then you’re kissing him.

“I’ll be here to remind you how much I cherish you.”

You nip his bottom lip and he opens wider. You whisper into his mouth,

“And how happy I am that Itoshi Rin was born into this world.”

Itoshi Rin, broken. He who thought that he could never be put back together.

Itoshi Rin, vengeful. He who believed the only happiness that existed for him in this world was to surpass his brother.

Itoshi Rin, who did not believe in his soulmate while staring right at them. And Itoshi Rin, who finally allowed himself to love you wholly, completely, as it was written in the stars.

“I love you,” he says, as if just those three words could encapsulate everything he feels for you.

“Always?” You giggle. He rolls his eyes.

“Wherever you are, and wherever you may be, I will.”

You kiss him one more time for good measure.

“That was corny.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2024

“No peeking.”

Rin folds up his piece of paper and hangs it from the bamboo tree. You’re tugging him along before he can even properly check to see if it’s been secured.

“Come on, I don’t want to miss the fireworks!”

He wouldn’t miss them for the world. You’ve always looked the most beautiful under the brightened summer sky.

The wish he scribbled down blows softly in the breeze as both of you rush by, back to the festival where it all began.

7 July 2024. I wish I had the words to tell you how much I love you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

extra notes. hi! if you made it this far, i'd like to give you the warmest most grateful thank you ever ( ´ ω `)

so, here it is. i've been working on this since last september-ish... for some people that amount of time is not much, but genuinely, i've never devoted so much attention and time to one single fic and i hope i did this one justice. rin has always been a guilty pleasure of mine to write for. i hope this man stays far far away from me until i can stomach even looking at his name again LOL ‾́ ◡ ‾́

also i finally admitted defeat and took out all my pictures and dividers because tumblr was fighting my posts that had any. so... sorry the formatting looks like this

additional tags: @jenoutof10 @hanrinz @itoshiexx lol hi guys it made it out of the drafts i hope you like it

#— whispers in the wind: 1k event ✉️#blue lock x reader #blue lock #blue lock fic #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk fic #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin fluff #rin itoshi fluff

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llamagoddessofficial · 3 months

Note

knightmare.......... (⸝⸝๑ ̫ ๑⸝⸝⸝)

The air was hot, and heavy. It always was, in the Summer Court, where the inescapable sun remained high in the sky for eternity. In this particular moment, however... the heaviness in the atmosphere was not caused entirely by heat.

The new knight, the stranger, had won yet another joust. Not only that, he had won a golden rose; the coveted prize for unseating five knights in a row. His opponent was still limping back to the competitor’s tent, their wings low in shame - and the stranger remained tall on his steed, alone in the centre of the ring. The raised stands surrounding the jousting arena had fallen deafeningly silent... he looked like a demon, horned helmet branching behind him, black ichor still leaking from between the heavy segments of his midnight armour.

The knight he had unhorsed was one of Dream’s favoured guards. Nobody knew what to do. Cheer? Boo? He held the rose he had just been presented with as if someone had handed him a dead bird; he seemed to observe it with a peculiar and detached sort of disinterest.

Amongst the dozens of rainbow-clad fae surrounding him, he appeared a single black spider in field of butterflies.

The fae who had presented him the rose hurried out of view, ducking back under the fabric of the stands. The stranger’s horse had attempted to bite her, and she had only just moved away in time. You would’ve run, too, if you were her.

“... Your prize, visitor.” Dream, naturally seated under the shade at the head of the tourney, spoke with his classic eloquence. And you couldn’t deny you admired his ability to speak so loudly, and with such friendliness, as if nothing was wrong. But you knew him well enough to know that his teeth were gritted. He looked down at the knight with an unreadable expression, golden circlet winking in the light. “Well earned.”

You didn’t have the luxury of sitting further back, in the top of the stands, sheltered from sunlight. You were sat on one of the far wings - to the very front, with the rest of the common fae.

... You used to be at the back. But you couldn’t think about that anymore. Ever since you had lost your humanity and grown wings, Dream’s eyelights had wandered to newer, more interesting people. You were relegated to the long and ever-growing list of Dream’s “old favourites”, the fae who had committed the ultimate sin of becoming boring.

You weren’t even one of the preferred old favourites. You would be surprised if Dream even recalled your name. You sat at the front now, far from him.

... So when the knight ignored Dream, and turned his great horse in your direction, even though the stands provided a moderate height advantage you felt fear seize every muscle.

You had suspected, from the dramatic moment this terrifying stranger arrived, that he had been stealing glances at you. Little tilts of his helmet - flashes of an eye underneath the metal. You had done your best to talk yourself out of it, why would he care about you? He was clearly here to mock the King. You were seeing things, or he was looking past you to other, more beautiful fae.

The horse was more beast than steed. It was frothing and biting at its bit, muscles straining beneath its armour, midnight hide rippling with barely restrained energy; it stood at least three hands above every other horse at the tournament, wild eyes blank like parchment. How the knight stayed so easily seated upon the monster was a mystery - but a loud testament to his own strength. Anyone who could tame and ride such a thing must be worth his salt.

You watched, in horror, as the beast drew closer. Each hoofbeat struck like thunder into the sand; you couldn’t help but feel a childish fear that the approaching steed might lunge forward and eat you. The fae around you were murmuring, wings were fluttering, seats creaked as tens of bodies attempted to lean away without committing the impropriety of leaving their place.

The horse pulled up alongside the stand. Its wild eyes, that had so hungrily observed the competition (and even the rose-bearer), didn’t so much as glance at you. It was like you weren’t even there.

The knight’s gauntlet-clad hand extended. The golden rose, tilted toward you. It all but glowed in the sun reflecting off its crafted petals; water-like ripples of light cast from it across his fine dark armour. Within his midnight hand, it only seemed to shine brighter.

You looked down at him. From the gap in his helmet, could see a single eye staring back at you, the brightest azure you had ever seen. He spoke - his voice was far softer now. Not at all like the proud, booming tones of when he had declared himself a contender for the joust.

“might this simple knight be so bold...” he murmured, “as to ask for your favour?”

It took a moment for you to speak. Your own voice was choked, barely audible to anyone but him.

“Y-you wish to exchange your golden rose... for my favour in the rest of the joust?”

You could hear his smile through the metal. “indeed.”

Your brow furrowed. “That hardly seems like a fair exchange for you, lord.”

“any fool with coin could have a hundred golden roses.” His eye sharpened. “but the favour of the fairest creature in attendance? alas, there is only one of those. a metal trinket, in exchange for something truly priceless.”

The heat in your cheeks was undeniable. He extended his hand a fraction further; you sat forward in your seat and extended yours in turn. As he placed the delicate rose into your awaiting palm, you felt the cold metal of his claws trace gently over the back of your knuckles.

He settled back into his saddle, retaking his reigns.

“... I-I...” You swallowed, gently nodding your head to him, slightly raising your voice. “Good fortune to you, Lord.”

The knight lifted the reins. The horse shook, making a sound like a great bonfire, hooves beginning to paw at the ground once again.

... He bowed his helmeted head. The horse turned, tail whipping, and moved back toward the centre of the joust range.

You froze in your seat, hands clasped around the rose. Everyone noticed that. Whispers immediately began to ripple across the crowd; you quickly darted your eyes away from the head of the seating, where Dream sat, hair prickling as you desperately avoided the overpowering urge to look to the Summer King for his reaction.

The mysterious knight had not called Dream “King”. Not once. And despite having every opportunity, for the duration of the tourney he had not bowed to him.

... But before the entire court, he had just bowed to you.

#llama writes #my brain is still in fae mode but #huehguehgu here #bad sanses #fae au

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rowretro · 9 months

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

An enha reactions

Warnings: None I think other than kissing, not proof read saur do tell me if i do need to warn abt anyth

HEESEUNG:

The male had spent the whole day streaming and gaming while you were patiently waiting for him to finally notice you and shower you in love. And exactly how long did your patience last?... luckily for you, Heeseung had just ended his stream, leaving his PC to find you. There you were sitting on the sofa munching on marshmallows...

"Oh darling~ you waited for me?" Heeseung asked with a smile as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. However, instead of letting him, you moved well away from his lips, making him fall forward, and kiss the butt-warmed seat on the sofa instead. "Oh darling, you only just noticed that you r dear girlfriend had waited a whole 5 hours while you gamed and replied to all those girls's comments?! wAh hEEsEunG oPpAr sO hANDsOme~ Oh hEE bE mInE, hEESeUng nOtICe mEEEE" you poutily imitated as Heeseung snickerred.

"God you're so fucking cute baby~" He simply said as you frowned at him. He simply pulled you into his embrace, despite your protests, his lips now pressed against your lips, as he kissed you passionately, pulling away moments later, having you yearn for his soft lips again. "I'm sorry for not paying you enough attention, but I'm all yours now mkay baby?" Heeseung smiled, as he kissed you yet again.

JAY:

It's midnight, and you're alone, waiting on the sofa, yet again. He said he'll finish at 6, he promised you that he will have time for you, but he's still not home. You couldn't be mad at him, if anything, being a CEO is pretty hard, especially after the recent scandal in his company. Jay had a lot of cleaning up to do, even though he didn't cause the mess in the first place.

These recent days, Jay hasn't paid any attention to you, he's become pretty cold and distant, and it's really upsetting you. Your thoughts were interrupted by the front door opening. In walked an exhausted Jay, he put down his items, slipped of his shoes, and hugged you. "You didnt have to wait all night- " Jay said as he leaned in to kiss you, but you pulled away before his lips even landed on yours.

"I did have to- you said you will be here at 6 but its way past the time... Jay- you never have time for me- you know- if you have any problems at work I can help you right, even if I cant- at least tell me, i can listen... you've become so cold these recent days its really upsetting..." You finally blurted as Jay sighed and kissed you slightly with force. "first, dont ever dodge my kisses baby, you know my lips too well to make a ballsy move... and second... i've just been a little to busy dealing with the aftermath of the scandal babe, i swear in a week or so, everything will be back to normal ok?" jay reassured as you kissed yet again.

JAKE:

There was no reason why, this boy is a simp, a lover boy, he's head over heels for you and is there at your every call. But you, being the oh-so-perfect girlfriend you are, just had to try this prank on him. You were expecting him to be a big pouty baby, get all sulky or be extra clingy, but you also had a feeling... he might surprise you.

The moment he got home from practice, he greeted you with a big hug and a loving kiss, to which you pulled away from him. "wah- I- babe wait let me kiss you-" Jake cluelessly said as he tried to kiss you again, too bad you dodged it again, just the realization hit him, in the mirror he saw your little smirk and boy was you messing with the wrong person.

His arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he trailed open mouth kisses up your shoulder, stopping by your lips. He turned you around and kissed you messily, taking you by shock, he lifted you off the ground and carried you to the sofa. "Would you dodge my kisses again princess?" Jake asked as he tilted his head a little. "If dodging your kisses gets me that then yes hell yes!" You smiled as Jake kissed you softly, seeing how cute you are.

SUNGHOON:

Sunghoon isnt always a PDA kind of guy, but he's still extremely sweet. There are times he gets very clingy, and those are times that you should cherrish. You were sitting on the sofa scrolling through your phone, when you felt Sunghoon sit right beside you. He rested his chin on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist, making you blush. "What are you up to?" he asked, staring up at your eyes, as your heart flutterred at the action. Boy he was making it so hard for you to do the prank.

"Just chillin-" you said as Sunghoon leaned in for a kiss, to which you ducked, as he froze "Did you just..." Sunghoon trailed off as he narrowed his eyes at you, within seconds he had your arms pinned above your head "Try dodging this." He said as he continuously kissed you on your lips, bruising them a little, and trailing wet kisses down your chest. "You think your little pranks will work on me baby? you're messin with the pro here missy." Sunghoon warned as he left you gasping for air.

Sunoo

You wouldn't dare do something so stupid without a reason. I mean why would you?! he's Sunoo, he'd always kisses you anytime anywhere, the man showers you with love, he spoils you rotten. However, these recent days Sunoo has been giving you extra attitude, he has become pretty rude and EXTREMELY sassy. It's just getting on your fucking nerves, what happened to "I love you y/n" or those cute, cheesy compliments and texts he spams you with. You had it with his chaos... So you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.

He came back from work a little earlier than usual, coming home thinking he would receive a sweet, loving kiss from his girlfriend... But instead he came back to nothing. A little confused, he frowned and called out for you when he did find you, he leaned in to kiss you, but was taken aback when you pulled away, going to the other side of the bed to fold some clothes. "What?" you plainly replied to which he scoffed, he didn't know what you're game was but there's no way you're giving HIM any attitude.

"Oh nothing-" Sunoo smiled, simply pulling out your favourite snack hoping that you'll crack. "One kiss is all it takes sweetie..." Sunoo simply said as You narrowed your eyes at him "If you want a kiss why don'tchu come get it yourself?" you asked as you started running, but to your dismay he knew your game, catching you in the doorframe, his arm tightly wrapped around your waist as he leaned down to kiss you rather roughly. After a little he pulled away and walked off as if nothing happened.

Jungwon

There was no specific reason why you decided to prank him... well- except for that time he had ruined your favourite Spotify playlist with your favourite songs being replaced by Justin Bieber songs... Ok he's a menace, so you had to get him back, take something he loves and make it torment him for the rest of his life...

It was simple, you're something or well someone he loves, and you can also be annoying. Jungwon had just taken a long shower, slipping into the seat beside you. You were focused on the TV, rewatching modern family. Jungwon rested his head on your shoulder, playing with your hand noticing that you seem a little distant. The male leaned in to kiss you, though his cologne is so alluring, and you want nothing more than to be in his embrace, you had to fight your own urges.

As he leaned into kiss you, you pulled away, going to the far end of the sofa. Jungwon frowned, clearly not liking your ignorance. He yet again tried to kiss you, getting in the way of your view, but you dodged it again, your focus solely on the TV. Jungwon simply carried you, your legs straddling his waist as you immediately snuggled into his chest. Jungwon placed a little kiss on your forehead, snuggling you close to him. he's a little menace... but he's your menace.

Niki

Riki was overly annoying at times, purposely testing your patience, teasing you for your height stealing your snacks. Moving in with him was rough, but you tried to be as calm as you can. So what are you going to lash out at him? yell at him? argue? no... you were going to speak to him in his language. no mater how much he teases you, you can't deny that you love those things...

You had been acting a little cold the whole day, though he didn't take it, constantly towering over you, trapping you between himself and whatever surface you were near, just to ask you a question. As you were sitting on your bed, doing something on your laptop, Riki sat down beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist lovingly.

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, only for you to pull away and sit on the other end of the bed. "Is this one of those tik tok pranks or are you mad?" Riki asked, as he sat beside you yet again. "what?" you asked not even looking his way. "Whatever it's not gonna stop me" Riki smirked, placing the laptop elsewhere, pinning you down and showering you with kisses, trapping you with his body. "You going to avoid my kisses from now?" Riki asked as you caught your breath.

"Well if avoiding one kiss gets me infinity then yes I will" You smiled as riki placed a soft peck on your lips, snuggling you.

too long?

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itsfairly · 5 months

Text

Nighttime Care // Nanami Kento x gn!reader

word count: 5.5k (ops)

cw: fluff, gender neutral!reader, established couple, petnames (sweetheart, sweetie, honey, darling, dear) not proofread (when is it?)

summary: work, work, and more work, it just seems like nanami can't catch a break from all this overtime. its exhausting, and you can see that and decide to give a helping hand.

notes: time to pass all the silly scenarios I've thought off instead of the outlines for the other fics i have on my drafts ❤

liked this? show it with a like, reblog, and/or comment. each is greatly appreciated and celebrated!

Tired.

Tired, tired, tired.

While it was a significantly better change when he quit his job as a salaryman and returned to his life as a sorcerer, Nanami hated how overtime seemed to follow him. But he hated how overtime not only meant coming home late and all tired. Now it meant coming late to you and being robbed of his time with his sweetheart.

It was way past midnight by the time he got through the front door, huffing almost too loudly as he kicked his shoes off and stepped into the quiet of your house.

No show playing on the TV with you on the couch all curled up waiting for him.

No smells coming from the kitchen with your back facing him as you hum to yourself with your attention on making tonight's dinner.

No running up to him to wrap your arms around him and pepper his face with your lips as you welcomed him home in a muffle.

No you to brighten such a shift at work.

Maybe it was better this way. It was late and you had work tomorrow, you had every right to be asleep right now. The slight disappointment from no sign of you awake quickly turns towards himself. How could he be selfish enough to expect you to wait for him at this hour? He had insisted that you should not wait for him so late, you had your own stuff outside of your relationship together and he rather that you would at least rest easy. Besides, you couldn't see him like this—dark eye bags, a deep frown, and barely standing. Nanami always wanted to be presentable before you, you deserved to see him at his best, not...not like this.

Yet, his heavy steps betrayed him. Despite his best attempts to keep you asleep, your light sleep triggered and caused you to groan awake. You turn on the bed, trying to find the source of the sound that interrupted your sleep only to see the bedroom door open as Nanami slipped between spaces. Silent mutters help you recognize Nanami's voice, your mind finally catching up to what your senses were telling you. With a squint of your eyes, you look at Nanami with your lips curling downwards. His voice sounded tired, his steps were dragging across the floor, and he simply seemed overworked to no surprise. Overtime simply wasn't anyone's choice of spending the night.

"Kento?" You called out in a groan, still feeling a bit drowsy from your interrupted sleep.

Your tired voice makes him sigh, giving him another reason to feel upset after a long shift. Not at you though, he didn't want to wake you up and he tried really hard to let you rest. With a heavy sigh, his shoulder slouched slightly as he turned to look at you, making his way to sit on the edge of the bed right in front of where you were laying down.

"Sorry, sweetie. Didn't want to wake you up." Nanami whispers, a tinge of jealousy in his voice. Seeing how cozy you looked on the bed made him want to be in your place and be able to rest as easily as you, he needed to lay down next to you and sleep. But he couldn't just yet. "I'm home..." He adds, a hand coming up his face to remove his goggles and holding him in a fist.

"Don't worry about that," You assured him, feeling the bed shift as he sat on the edge of it.

With a yawn, you sit up to try and wake yourself up now that he is back. Despite still being zoned out from sleep, it didn't take much to notice just how exhausted he was. It was a sad sight to your eyes, even sadder knowing that this wasn't new at all.

You wrap your arms around Nanami and pull him down to the bed right on top of you, feeling how he slightly jumped at this. Though he was surprised at the action, he felt himself relax when his head met your chest, realizing a groan out of how nice your body felt after such a long day.

"Welcome home, honey." You whispered, your hand rubbing circles on his back.

"S'tired, soo tired." He mumbled against you, using his hand to rub his eyes as if that would get rid of his fatigue.

However, it was hard considering how he felt like he might drift off at any moment. He couldn't fall asleep. Even if he was struggling to stay awake, he didn't want to sleep just yet when he was still in his work clothes.

It was awful how much this happened and every time you would react the same. How could you keep your lips from frowning when Nanami looked and sounded this tired? When his body practically flopped against yours so easily? Nanami was a hardworking person and you admired that. What you did not admire was how much he pulled over time despite hating it with his entire being, constantly doing it over and over again. But this time it looked like work was harsh on him. Sure, he had no injuries or anything like that. Regardless, it was later than the usual time he came back from overtime and he looked much weary than usual.

You sighed, wishing you could do more than just comfort him. For the time being, all you could do was offer soft caresses over his back. "I know, honey," you whispered.

His head peaks out of your chest, meeting your soft frown at him. Your concerned eyes, your hand on his back, your quiet whispers...you were worried for him, that much was obvious with how gentle you were rather than telling him off for coming home late yet again.

"Sorry. I had to work overtime to-" A yawn cuts him off, his hand muffling his lips while his mind tries to coax him into falling asleep by focusing on how he could rest just like this. Yet, he didn't want to seem rude by simply greeting you and falling asleep on you. You deserved more than just a tired man-

"Why are you apologizing?" You asked softly, cutting his line of thought before you even knew what he was thinking.

In your mind, you saw no reason for him to apologize. Work was work, he was providing just as much (definitely more) than you were and it was normal. What wasn't was how frequently his work would cut not only into their time together but also into his time to rest and relax. You could never hold something like this against him knowing that it wasn't his choice to stay longer at work. Stress, fatigue, soreness in his eyes alone, dark and sunken from how much this has happened as of late.

No. He had no reason to apologize.

But Nanami didn't see it that way. You deserved more than this...not eating alone or going to sleep alone. He wanted and needed to give you some time with him, he didn't want to be this exhausted, barely functioning person to you. Even if you didn't understand why he was apologizing, he still needed to apologize.

"I'm sorry for-"

Your hand took his hand, interrupting him as you wrapped your hand around his and sat up on the bed. With a sigh, you take his goggles from his hand and place them on the nightstand.

"Stop it. You have nothing to apologize for, got it?" You said gently, wanting to be as soft-spoken as you could to not disturb him, let alone let him think that you were angry at him. Why would you get angry over this? It wasn't his fault and you knew that tonight would be different had he had a say in whether he was going to pull overtime tonight.

Helping him sit up again, your hands slip underneath his blazer on his shoulders, rubbing down his arms to help him take it off and setting it on the other side of the bed. As the fabric left his arms, Nanami rested his head against your shoulder with a small groan, placing a hand on your arm to stop you. Sure, it felt nice to have you touch him like this, but he didn't feel like he deserved it. He left you alone for the evening and came home late. How could he let you do more for him than he deserved? His eyes might barely be open and he might be very, very tired, but he couldn't make you feel obligated to help him.

"Darling," he mumbled, sounding unconvincing of pushing your help away, "you don't need to. I..." He sighs, feeling that slight burn in his eyes with a blink, "...I don't want you to see me like this."

He felt very worn-out, slower than usual as if gravity weighed twice as much tonight. Even so, he didn't want you to think you had to help him. He didn't like this side of him where you couldn't lean on him, it made him feel like a burden to you when he had already interrupted your sleep.

But he was met with your head leaning against his, trying to comfort him further as you saw him frown.

If there was something everyone agreed about Nanami it's that he is a selfless person. Someone always wanting to help others, protect them, put them before himself. It was actually one of the many sides that made you fall for him. So it was easy to understand why he was so self-conscious at that moment. It was a juxtaposition of the man he usually is: capable, sufficient, and reliable. Qualities that his fatigue was preventing him from being, but that didn't mean he had to be ashamed of it.

"I wanna help you though."

"You're already doing more than enough by welcoming me home. You should be telling me off for coming so late, not comforting me like this." He explained, his eyelids heavy from the way your warm cheeks touched his temple.

You shook your head, hands coming to his neck and tracing over his tie for her fingers to quickly undo it.

"I've told you already, you have nothing to feel bad for and I have nothing to be angry about." You pulled on his tie, wrapping it around your hand until it was rolled up and then placing it close to his blazer on the bed. "You're tired and overworked. I can't let you do things on your own when I can help you, especially when I want to help my love."

Nanami lifts his head out of your shoulder, trying to straighten up in his seat as you stripped him of the many layers that weighed him down. As much as he tried to make it seem otherwise, you were right—he was tired and overworked, far more than what he could handle. With you so set on helping him, the least he could do was stop his nagging and let you help. It was a bit embarrassing that work has rendered him this weak, not from some kind of injuries but simply because of how body felt ready to shut down at any moment.

Here he was—a grown man of his age acting like a helpless child. He would've protested again had it not been for how devoted towards helping him, towards him. You might be doing what any caring spouse would do, but to him it felt like giving him a small break he didn't deserve.

His lips still find it in them to curl in the slightest as he says tiredly, "thank you, love."

"Happy to help," you answered.

And there it was, that beautiful smile that melted away your frown once he gave in to your aid.

It was silent for a few moments in the room except from the click-click sound after you unclasped his suspenders from his trousers, setting them on the side. There was little to no light, only the nightstand lamp and whatever else managed to slip in from the window, with him tired and you undressing him as your hands slid to his shirt.

Careful to not startle him, your fingers undo his buttons and reveal more and more of his skin with each. Once they were all undone, you slipped your hands underneath his shirt, feeling a few bumps in the way that made you pinch your brows together confused. It wasn't until you started to slide the shirt off his arms that the bumps made sense—they were actually dents that ran front to back on his torso. Though they didn't seem serious, it makes your lips pout.

"I didn't know you had these."

Nanami's eyes look away from you and down to his own chest where your eyes focused on. In all honesty, he rarely acknowledged these—they were just marks left by his suspenders, a small price to pay from his daily attire. Sure, they were tight enough, restrictive enough to leave a mark on his body, but he didn't see any reason to mention them.

"It's nothing, love. They don't hurt at all."

Despite his assurance, your eyes seemed glued to his body. They were just a result of constantly wearing suspenders to a pretty physical job, no pain would come from them. Yet, seeing these marks meant more than just that. It was about the amount of time for these marks to set in the first place, making you realize just how long and much his workday was. Hours that, if they left this kind of mark in his body, were enough to lead to this exhaustion you could see in him.

That's when your fingers begin to think on their own. Your hand comes back up to his shoulder, but rather than resting your palm over it, your fingers graze over the marks and delicately follow down the path on his chest.

As your mind lets your hands do as you wish, Nanami could feel how worried you were from your touch alone. It was gentle but it had that hint of caution, as if too much pressure would make it uncomfortable for him. It made him feel vulnerable. He could see your mind running with all these thoughts from his marks alone. You knew he hated overtime, you knew he was stubborn to work despite his better judgment, and you both knew he needed to rest.

These marks reminded him how much he worked on a day alone.

These marks showed you how hard he worked alone for the two of you.

Underneath your fingertips, Nanami allowed himself to savor your touch further by closing his eyes for a second, unable to prevent the sigh that escapes his lips that makes you snap from your trance and look up at him. Though you knew it was best to hurry up and help him get ready for bed, something within her sparked at his marks. Your free hand decides to follow the other’s steps and comes up to the other side of Nanami’s body, roaming gently down the marks his suspenders have left behind. Soft, delicate, and gentle touches, but most importantly, loving touches.

Nanami stays still, letting you graze all over his body as he swallows down his self-conscious thoughts. It tickled a little to have your hands go so slow and so lightly over his skin, making his muscles tense underneath them. Despite that, he didn’t want your hands to stop, so he doesn't make any effort to as his eyes follow how your hands move down his body and earn a ghost of a moan from him. He couldn’t help himself when his exhaustion made it hard to think much, but you were just being so patient and caring and loving and…and so many other things that made him thank whatever deity that allowed him to be with you, that allowed him to have you as his everything.

Your hands come to a halt at his moan, your heart picking up a pace. At first, you worried the touch was actually hurting or unsettling to him when his body tensed, interpreting his moan as a groan. But when you looked up and saw how his eyes were glued on you and your hands moving across his body as if he wanted to take it all in rather than push you away, you let your hands rest on him and slide back up to his shoulders. You got a little carried away and you didn’t want to tire him any more.

“You do so much for us…for me.” You start with a whisper, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Kento.”

And see, hearing you say that makes absolute nonsense to him. It catches him off guard.

Your eyes meet, him shaking off his exhaustion for a second to open his a bit more, to actually be able to look at you. Despite how your hands and eyes roam up and down his body, Nanami feels no lust or desire under your touch. It was careful, sweet, just as he has come to expect from you whenever you caught him in this state.

This was just his spouse’s stare, you were his spouse. It wasn’t a matter of whether or not you deserved it (you did, that’s simply out of the question). He wanted to do all this, whatever he could for you. He would sacrifice so much just so you wouldn’t have to worry or work hard. As he stares back at you, eyes looking up and down at his beautiful darling before him, he smiled softly. Though your words made no sense to him, they were a reminder of how thankful he was that you worried, that you were thankful for him like he was for you. A reminder of how much he loved you and hoped that, though he didn’t say it out loud enough, you would still know that without a doubt in between the lines…

“You deserved it.” He answers back.

You chuckled. Of course he would think that and smile like this was nothing. Yet, there was something about his smile. You hated how tired it looked, how tired he looked. But when he smiled right now, softly telling her one thing to mean another…You shook your head, shifting your hands on his bare shoulders to rub circles over his skin and soothe whatever tension you could feel there.

“You’re the one working to the point of exhaustion while I fall asleep before you come home. You do much more for me than I do for you.”

“You do a lot for me,” Nanami started, his brows pinching slightly when you kept discrediting yourself, “you work around the house, keep the place nice…you’re taking care of me even right now after I woke you up. You do plenty for me. This is not up for debate.” He chuckles, not even letting you argue about how little you did for him because that wasn’t the case.

Your gaze softness as your hands come up to his jaw before running your fingers down to his chin. Even through that tension and obvious lack of energy, he still found it in him to appreciate her, to be adamant about her contributions and have her see them. Silently, your eyes flash that gratitude of him to him, admiring each feature on his face.

It was a soft touch, the kind of touch that makes you wonder if it was skin to skin or a feather to skin. It was a quiet but loud way of letting him know how much you appreciate him back. The kind of love and fondness that he needed after another shift.

“I’ll always see it that way, you know?” Nanami adds, “It’s for us, so we can be comfortable. But most of all, so I can spoil you like you deserve it.”

You smile at him, unable to keep it in yourself to kiss him so you do. You lean in to press a quick and soft peck on his lips, taking a step further to remind him of how much he meant to you. You lean back, careful to not over do your kiss when he is this tired. But rest assured, that a small kiss such as that one was enough for Nanami to feel the weight of it, making him feel loved.

“Let’s get you off of these, yeah?” You whispered, your hands sliding off the marks from his suspenders, though you made a mental note to show them some extra love when he was much more in the mood.

You kissed his cheek and readjusted how you were sitting on the bed, going back to the reality that it was quite late, he was exhausted, and you both could use the rest. Shaking off those thoughts, you were set back on your original mission to help him get ready for bed. Your hands go down to his belt, carefully undoing it and pulling it off the loops of his trousers.

But it proved to be much harder to shake off those thoughts from earlier when his body was on display like this, especially as you helped him slide off said trousers after putting his belt aside with the rest of his garments. It wasn’t just the suspenders’ marks, but also his muscles coupled with the feeling of his skin and hair against her hands that made Nanami shake his head with a chuckle as he called out your name.

“You’re doing it again, love.” He wasn’t oblivious to the effect he was having on you, how he was getting you going, as he softly mumbled your name softly.

“Doing what?” You asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, trying to play innocent. After all, it was merely a split second you were staring, right?

“Staring at me.” Nanami smiled wider, leaning forward now that this reaction from you gave him a small boost of energy, all just to tease you. “Are you admiring your husband, dear?”

You knew he was just teasing, especially when he was pulling such a pet name by the end of it and leaned forward towards you. You weren’t blind either, apparently you weren’t the only one enjoying a show with your spouse as the star of it, not when his eyes followed your hand and slowly drifted to other parts of you.

“If I was, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one, am I?” You teased right back, looking at him with that smirk still on your face without moving an inch away from him and in fact, deciding to double it down by resting a hand on his thighs.

“A man can’t love the person he married anymore?” Nanami chuckled, silently taking everything in. Your body, your face, your voice…nothing from you was not appealing, you were truly perfect in his eyes.

His answer makes you laugh. You took a small breath, hand sliding off his thigh and across the bed until it finds his own hand, resting yours on top of his as your gaze returns to his. A smile comes to your lips, your heart starting to feel lighter and faster with every beat. Tease or not, Nanami was a natural at making you feel like this.

“A husband can definitely love their spouse.” You replied, your voice having a slight tease in it as well.

“Especially when they are so beautiful.” Nanami adds, his smile growing soft as he leaned against your forehead and closed his eyes. He still felt tired, but he really liked this moment with you right now, feeling as if it was making up for the time he’s been away from you. So he wanted to stay in it a little longer.

“I see, so that’s why you were starting too.” You whispered, though there is the hint of a giggle in your voice that Nanami is able to pick on, going as far as being able to hear your smile.

“Yeah, that is why.” Nanami sighs, laying back on the bed and resting his head on your thighs, groaning softly once he feels his back meet the bed. He could feel how your hands immediately found his hair, gently combing his blond locks with your fingers.

It was comfortable, he didn’t want to move. He wanted to fall asleep just like this. Not yet though. He still wanted to be with you, feel you like this. Even if the two of you weren’t talking much and he was tired out of his mind, you being here and letting him be like this on your lap was enough to calm him further. You being here made him calm.

“I’ve been so busy.” Nanami mumbles, taking a deep breath as his eyes closed for a second.

“It’s okay.” You assured him. “It’s work.”

But there was something in your voice that didn’t match your words. Nanami knew what it was—how much you wanted him to cut back on overtime for his sake. But your words felt as if you were trying to let him know that you wouldn’t hold it against him how his work cuts into his time with you, that he didn’t need to feel that kind of guilt from you. He knew he needed to set a firmer boundary with work so he could put you first like he wanted to, rather than making you worry like this.

Just imagining you falling asleep, waiting for him to come back only for him to come long after, was painful. He didn’t want that for you anymore.

He shakes his head, his hand coming up to yours that was losing its fingers across his hair, stopping your movements. No matter how many times you assured him, how much you tried to be understanding, he didn’t want this to drag on. Work was work, true. But it shouldn’t be overtaking his life, be more important than you were to him. You came before that, and anything for that matter, it wasn’t up to debate. Especially when you were so patient and caring to him despite how neglectful he can be.

“I shouldn’t…” He sighed, taking some time to form over his words. He didn’t want, let alone deserve, so many passes and he wanted to own up to all those times he had to come home late. “Don’t worry so much about me, please,” it’s what he ends up saying.

His words are met with a soft squeeze of your hand after you turn your hand around to be holding his, your free hand coming down to rest around his chest. You could see what he meant with that.

Don’t wait for me.

I can handle myself.

You don’t have to forgive me so easily.

Truth be told, you knew other people would grow irritated at their husbands coming home late, scolding them for the time they finally arrive and leading to distrust. But being married to a jujutsu sorcerer like him…it was a different case. You trusted him with this job, knowing how much more fulfilling it was than working corporate; trusted him to be careful and learned the kind of things he had to deal with. It was a dangerous job, it was exhausting, and you wonder how he can even ask you to not worry. To not worry about Nanami was simply against your marriage vows. You couldn’t do that.

“You’re my husband. I’m supposed to worry about you.”

“Just trust that I’ll be fine.” Nanami said softly, a small sigh leaving his lips as he looked up at you.

He could see that concern in your eyes. Though it is nice to have someone who worries about him, there’s still that annoying part in him that makes him feel guilty for making you worry in the first place. Yet, he knew that he couldn’t blame you. No matter how many times he insisted on you not waiting up for him or on tending his wounds, he knew you would still worry about him. In a way, you both just wanted to do more for the other—you felt like he did a lot for you and he felt like he didn’t do enough for you.

“I’m tired, love,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his free hand, “let’s not fight…not tonight.”

“It’s not fighting,” you let go of his hand, letting it slip to his cheek. You knew better than to try and argue when he was this tired, let alone when you knew he had the best intentions even if he dismissed himself so often. “I do trust you, but I still need to care for the person I love so much..”

Nanami chuckled, looking up at you with a tired smile. As he took a deep breath, he could feel how lucky and thankful he was at this moment. Even if a part of him tried to weigh him down with this guilt over how things seemed to be in his mind, you somehow knew how to show him the reality of things. He wasn’t neglectful like his mind was telling him, not when he was trying to peel his eyes open just to spend more time with you. You weren’t forgiving because he was your husband, but because you trusted him enough with your heart. You weren’t worried over him because he came late, you worried because you loved him.

Before he can even answer, you gently pull him off your lap and lay his head back down on the bed. You stand up, patting his shoulder.

“I’ll get your pajamas.” You smile at him, the kind of smile that says don’t worry about a thing, before you turn to his dresser.

Nanami thanks you, sitting up on the bed and stretching his arms and back. The room quiets down, neither of you saying a word as you come back with his night garments and placing them by his side to let him put them on. Not yet done, you take all of his work clothes and turn back to the dresser to put his clothes away while he changes. Some are set aside for the laundry basket, others are hung back up, and others tucked away in the drawers.

Once done with that task, you turn back to head to the bed, laying down underneath the sheets like you were long before he came back for work. He was a bit slow in putting his pajamas on to no one’s surprise since he might as well fall asleep right then and there, but eventually he lays down next to you after turning off the lights, his body facing yours. You wrap an arm around him, pulling yourself closer, sighing when he does the same by rolling on his back and letting you rest your head on his chest to which you happily do.

“I’m surprised you lasted so long without dropping unconscious onto the bed.” You said softly, a tinge of a tease in your voice.

Nanami chuckles, a yawn following soon after as fatigue starts to get to him after god knows how many hours of working.

“So am I. I’ve been like that for hours, honestly.” He pulls you a bit closer, his hand gently grazing up and down your arm. A touch that made your body melt into his body. “But it was worth it. I got to spend more time with you, even if I only had half a brain to see you.”

You hummed, your head turning up to look at him before pressing a kiss on his shoulder. You decided to not say anything, wanting him to get that rest he not only needed but also deserved. That doesn’t mean his words don’t make your heart flutter, even as he says them in that hoarse voice from how tired he was, it made them feel much more softer that he pushed himself to let her know that.

You lift up the covers and let yourself get comfortable with him as your pillow and you in his arms, the two of you cuddling in the quiet and silent room. A few seconds pass, then minutes, and you were sure he had already fallen asleep as evident by his deep breath that made your head rise and fall with his chest, his heart serving as your personal lullaby. Knowing that you had done everything you could for him in this moment, you let yourself close your eyes and begin to return to your sleep from earlier.

Though before you could truly fall into slumber, you feel his head lean against yours, a soft kiss placed on the top of your head that makes your heart beat for him, feeling safe in his arms as he manages to finally answer back to you from earlier:

“I love you too, dear. Thank you…for everything you do.”

Nanami would’ve said more, he probably wanted to have it not been from how his words slurred as his body was finally claimed over by that sleep he pushed off for far too long. After all, now that he finally got his fill of you, he could now rest properly.

354 notes · View notes

jenctrl · 3 months

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my little scrump*ೃ༄

"despite being across the world and miles apart, the canine is always there for her feline, especially when she's sick and grumpy, truly acting like her little scrump."

warning; from the blackcat!Y/n series, the parts don't need to be read in order!

“Stop being stubborn and lay down in bed,” Chaewon argued, making a meek attempt at trying to pull Y/n off of the stool the girl was sitting on. However, the feline’s arm slipped right past her grip and all she got was a grunt of disapproval.

Y/n wasn’t talking to Chaewon.

The older couldn’t figure out if it was because she was still sick with the flu or if it was because she got the flu from Chaewon. Could it be because they were missing their group schedule in America? Or because something or someone wasn’t here. Y/n had always been impossible to read, well, not to one person.

She had become aware that Y/n turned whiny and reasoned like a five-year-old when she was sick though.

Chaewon had a toddler on her hands.

She squinted her eyes, leaning her weight onto Y/n’s desk as she wasn’t sitting far from it. The feline was focused on the canvas in front of her that was on its stand. There was a faint, barely there, scent of oil paint lingering in the girl’s room.

Chaewon had spent her whole flu in bed and gotten better quickly with a few symptoms lingering. She wasn’t sure how Y/n was able to even sit up on the stool without toppling over, however she could see the small shivers run along her body. The feline was sitting with her knees hugged to her chest, in sweats and a t-shirt.

Her stubbornness was driving Chaewon crazy; Y/n was refusing to take medicine, she didn’t want to rest and simply wasn’t doing anything she should be doing, but rather the opposite. The leader scratched at the side of her neck while staring intensely at the girl who was clearing her throat and sniffling.

She pushed herself up and made it over to the girl’s bed to get her phone; there was one person who knew how to handle Y/n.

Y/n blinked her sore eyes as her night had been uncomfortable and she could feel herself slipping to sleep. The past few days she had felt empty as she had been isolated and she wouldn’t have minded. She had always enjoyed being alone, but it was different now that a sun had appeared in her small empty world and suddenly it was dramatically yanked away and thrown across the world.

It wasn’t as dramatic, but it could as well be.

She tilted her head, ignoring Chaewon who walked out of the room, assuming that the older girl gave up on trying to make her get better. Her eyes scanned the painting which grew duller the longer she looked at it. It felt like grey clouds were covering the whole sky and she shivered at the cold that ran over her sore muscles.

It was clear that something was lacking and nothing ever lacked in Y/n’s life; that’s what she told herself at least. She would hate to admit that she needed someone else but herself.

“This one is gonna be huge on her.” Chaewon widened her eyes at the hoodie she pulled out, thinking about Y/n’s tall yet petite frame. She still threw the hoodie over her shoulder, the feline rarely wore hoodies and a cardigan or sweater didn’t seem like a cosy enough option in the latter’s opinion.

“The bigger the hoodie the better,” Yunjin commented as she watched Chaewon stand back up after rummaging through her wardrobe for the specific black hoodie she knew Y/n liked. It was Yunjin’s favourite too, but she left it behind for the feline.

Chaewon did not have the patience nor knowledge to take care of the younger girl and so her last resort was the girl across the world. It was early morning on the other end and midnight was approaching in Seoul and the leader hadn’t succeeded with anything the whole day.

Now that Yunjin was awake she could help.

“She’s literally about to turn 20, I feel like I’m taking care of a toddler.” She still complained as Y/n’s demeanour did a whole 180 the second she got sick. It was unlike the girl and it left her worried, but also in shambles as she had tried everything.

“Do you want my help or not?” She questioned, however, Yunjin wouldn’t hang up until she knew that Y/n was all fine and asleep. It was already hard enough for the canine to fall asleep and then sleep through the whole night knowing that Y/n was sick on the other end of the world and suffering through her day without Yunjin being there to take care of her like she always did.

“What’s with all this casual talk to me?”

“My bad bro.”

“Okay well, that didn’t make it better–” Chaewon pointed out with a frown, seeing that America was already back in Yunjin’s system. She sighed, “What more?”

“The Scrump plush, she forgot it on my bed.” She sang out, resting her chin in her palm as she patiently, more so impatiently, waited for Chaewon to get the stuff and hand the phone over to Y/n. She wanted to talk with her and make sure she was fine.

Chaewon scanned Yunjin’s bed and grabbed the scrump plushie whose head was on the pillow. With everything in hand, she made her way towards the door to get back to Y/n’s room downstairs.

“She doesn’t want to take her medicine.” She pointed out.

Yunjin frowned, over the past few years of knowing Y/n she knew her like the back of her hand, well, there were still things she was learning about her. Y/n was and always would be somewhat of a mystery. Whenever the girl was sick she took it upon herself to take care of her even if every manager advised against it; Yunjin would rather get sick than not take care of Y/n.

“It’s anxiety-inducing, she doesn’t like taking it, but if you mix it with something–”

“I am not doing that.” Chaewon cut her off and stopped at the stairs to look down at the Facetime call with a frown. The two stared at each other in a second-long silence.

“Then she won't take it.” Yunjin huffed out in frustration, mimicking Chaewon’s frown but a lot more seriously. “And I’m not there to take care of her either. They didn’t let me stay.” She continued as she wanted to stay behind for a few days, but obviously, that wouldn’t have worked out. Her lower lip jutted out as the corners of her mouth went down at the sadness she felt of being away from Y/n.

It wasn’t the same, the nights were empty without a moon in the sky.

“Because we have a group schedule.” The leader mumbled as she continued to make it down the stairs, ignoring Yunjin’s sad and devastated face; looking like a puppy kicked to the curb.

“Has she eaten yet?”

“No.”

The loud gasp from the girl on the other end resonated through the whole hallway. It was almost midnight in Seoul and Y/n had yet to eat.

“I tried to have her eat something but she says she has no appetite.”

“Because she needs her medicine first with something little to eat to get the fever down and then her appetite will be back.” The canine argued, feeling her heart rate spike up in worry at the information she was receiving from Chaewon. It was enough that they could barely talk because of the time difference and that they were miles apart, but now she was hearing that Y/n was not managing at all.

“Yunjin.”

“You just need to make toast with jam, but mix the powder with the jam.” Chaewon groaned at Yunjin’s demanding yet pleading voice that quivered the slightest. It left her no choice as it looked like the girl on the other end wouldn’t stop whining about it and she needed to feed the second youngest member in the end.

Chaewon stopped for a second as she entered the room, seeing that the feline was barely sitting on the stool at this point. Her cheek pressed against her knees as her one eye was closed and she meekly used the brush against the canvas.

Y/n heaved a sigh and looked away from the painting and at the older girl who made it over to her. “Being stubborn and grumpy won’t get you better.” Before she could reply the brush was removed from her hold and Chaewon placed it off to the side together with the rest of the things, Yunjin on the call included.

She didn’t have the energy to argue as her hands were wiped off of any possible paint with the damp rag. It didn’t register in her head when everything suddenly went black and then the light came back; a hoodie now draped over her body. It made Y/n shiver, but in a good way at the comforting warmth and most importantly the scent it carried. Things started to feel like home for the feline.

“Come on, get up.” She was ordered and groaned in response, however, she allowed Chaewon to pull her off of the stool. Her tired eyes looked down at the plush that was placed in her hold and next followed Chaewon’s phone.

The older girl guided Y/n over to the bed before leaving as the younger was being entertained by Yunjin.

“You really are my little Scrump, acting like you only have six days left with how sad you look,” Yunjin commented, unable to hide her smile, making her pull the collar of her shirt to make it more subtle. Her eyes roamed Y/n’s face on the screen which became a blur when the girl manoeuvred around to make herself comfortable.

“You could pass as Scrump.” The canine laughed, teasing the sick girl.

Y/n huffed, her eyes squinting the slightest at Yunjin as she finally lay on her stomach, resting her chin on the scrump plushie. “Are you comparing a sick person to Scrump?” The feline bitterly asked and got a nod in return.

“I want to see you two side by side–” Yunjin started and looked at Y/n who didn’t budge. “Please?” She added with a small pout and the younger girl groaned in annoyance, her voice a slight rasp.

Suddenly everything seemed less gloomy; Y/n’s sky was starting to clear up from the dark clouds while Yunjin’s nights had their moon back

Yunjin laughed as Y/n and Scrump were side by side; the girl’s messy hair from the hoodie took away from how serious she was. The baby hairs that stood up at the top of her head made her resemble the plushie even more.

“Yunjin–” Y/n whined, seeing the screenshot Yunjin took which made her put the plushie down with a frown.

“I needed a new phone background.” The feline rolled her eyes and settled her cheek against Scrump’s head, making Yunjin tilt her head at how it squished Y/n’s cheek. She took a screenshot with her memory this time to not further stir the already whiny girl. She was aware that even if Y/n would never admit it out loud she loved being doted on and babied when she was sick.

Yunjin would always do it even if they were worlds apart; she’d do everything and anything to take care of Y/n and make sure she was fine. The same way Y/n did even if she didn’t say that she did; Yunjin felt cared for. That was more than being told that she was cared for. To just know.

“You’re just staring,” Y/n mumbled, her eyes half open as she stared right back at Yunjin who she had silently watched move around the hotel room. The older girl’s eyes still constantly glanced over at Y/n until she was sat in an armchair and could have all her attention on her.

“I miss you and looking at you and being with you and just you. The rest are getting annoying to look at.” Yunjin replied, her ginger strands falling over her shoulders as she stared down at the phone with a small smile that made her eyes crease and heat run to her cheeks. She couldn’t get enough of the girl, but she wouldn’t tell Y/n how cute she found her at the moment.

It made a want grow in her; to take the girl and squish her out of love.

She’d do it the second Y/n and Chaewon would land in Los Angeles to resume their schedule with them.

Yunjin’s eyes laid on Y/n with a fondness in them, one that made the girl forget everything even being sick. However, Yunjin was more than just a distraction for Y/n. She had somehow turned everything Y/n always wanted to be distracted from into something she no longer minded; Huh Yunjin made life bearable for Oh Y/n.

“You will get annoyed by me too at some point.” Yet specks of gloom would grain Y/n’s view, but it was never for long with Yunjin there. The feline hummed grainily, still sick albeit distracted from it, her body slowly melting into the mattress.

She’s heard people judge the girl, she’s seen how hard Y/n had it; being dubbed as hard to deal with and put up with; a stuck-up outcast. To Yunjin she was necessary; she was the moon that pulled her tide.

She didn’t need the rest to know it though, to know Y/n’s worth and the person that she was; she only needed Y/n to know it. She would always reassure Y/n, she would never get tired of it, never get tired of her feline.

“The only thing I will get annoyed by is you not being with me.” Her eyes squinted, one a bit more than the other until she closed one fully to inspect Y/n even closer. “Is it wrong to miss you? We can barely even talk because of the time difference.” She sighed, opening her eyes and jutting out her lower lip with a tilt of her head.

“No–” Y/n halted in her words and stared back at Yunjin, her frown still present and she at last relaxed and slumped fully into her bed. She hugged the plush closer to herself while still resting on it, blinking as she felt the words forcibly pushing up her throat, making her purse her lips in an attempt to stop them. Yunjin made it impossible though. “It's annoying because I miss you too.” The feline let out annoyed.

Yunjin let out a breathless chuckle at the words, deciding to leave them at that to not test her luck. It did spark up her insides and make her feel warm; Y/n always made her feel better and she only wanted to do the same.

“I’ve heard that smiling is a powerful medicine.” There was still one thing she wanted to do and it was to make her Scrump smile.

“Well, clearly you haven’t studied medicine.” The canine rolled her eyes at the reply while Y/n looked at her unimpressed.

“I don’t have to study it to know that seeing you smile makes me feel better and that it makes me smile and then it will make you feel better when I smile, Scrump.”

Y/n raised her eyebrows at the girl’s reasoning, refusing to smile at the light-hearted words that were nothing more than silly yet meaningful. Her eyes observed Yunjin who moved around, propping the phone up to stand on its own.

“Like this…” The latter closed one eye for better accuracy while using her fingers to try and lift the corners of Y/n’s lips. It was like magic; Yunjin smiled bigger as Y/n tried to hide her face in her shoulder only to peek up and not be able to hold back the smile that tugged on her lips at what the girl on the other end was doing.

The smile was too big for Y/n’s liking, especially over such silly gestures, but the simplest things from Yunjin did that to her.

“You’re so stupid.” She grumbled and let the phone drop face down just as the door opened.

“Bro, pick me up!” Y/n ignored Yunjin’s complaints and turned onto her back, propping herself up against the pillows resting against the headboard.

“Could you please eat this?”

“I guess I could,” Y/n replied, taking the plate from her leader as Yunjin’s whining about being picked up continued. Finally, after hours uttering a word to the other girl.

“Is she being annoying?” Chaewon questioned, unsure if she should pick up her phone, hearing the girl on the other end click her tongue at the question.

“She even called me bro. America is getting to her head.”

“Hey!” Y/n rolled her eyes at how loud Yunjin managed to be even through the phone, eating the toast she was served. The older girl slumped down beside Y/n and took her phone at last, flipping it over and the first thing she received was a stank face which made her do one in return.

“Why are you acting like I threw you away?”

“Could I get Y/n on the phone, please?” The canine discarded Chaewon’s question, catching a glimpse of Y/n’s head that rested against the leader's shoulder.

“She’s eating.”

“I wanna watch.”

“I’m not a tripod.”

“You could serve as one for now.”

“No.”

“Ok then give her the phone so she can hold it and you feed her.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“I don’t think I want to have kids in the future anymore,” Chaewon grumbled as she accepted the ridiculousness of Yunjin’s request. It did let her make sure that Y/n ate everything.

She realised how much Yunjin spoiled the girl but what baffled her the most was that Y/n allowed Yunjin to spoil her and didn’t argue about it like she did with everyone else. The girl didn’t shut her out nor did she turn a cold shoulder. Not being there to do it, she did it through the leader. Always finding a way for Y/n.

“You’d be a good mother.” Y/n tiredly mumbled, starting to feel better, subtly stretching her limbs and wordlessly seeking for comfort that she got from Chaewon who wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It let her snuggle up to her with her head on her chest, eyes growing heavy.

“Since when are you nice to me?”

“Since always.” The feline replied, her eyes barely open as Yunjin was still on the phone, now getting ready for the schedule they had today. She was still not tired of talking endlessly as Y/n quietly listened the way she always did; Chaewon doing most of the talking with the latter.

“You were just a pain in the ass a second ago.” Y/n huffed at the words as Chaewon patted her head before running her fingers through the black strands.

“Okay well actually, do maybe reconsider becoming a mother.” Chaewon rolled her eyes, looking down at the phone with feigned bitterness as Yunjin was giggling.

“Please Yunjin, talk to her until she passes out.”

Yunjin happily did, talking until both of them fell asleep.

#yunjin imagines #yunjin fluff #yunjin x reader #yunjin x female reader #le sserafim x fem reader #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim fluff #girl group imagines #fanfic #girl group fluff #blackcat!y/n🐈‍⬛

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barefoothighlander · 1 year

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Hiii saw that your requests were open (it’s past midnight when I saw your post) but literally head empty shameless breeding smut with ghost the size difference with that man as he has you trapped beneath him and him just tossing your legs over his shoulders y’a know the sex about to be crazy crazy 😫 man that man has me on my knees begging and blindfolded tied up horny im just rambling now damn ghost… also I hope im doing this right with the request thoughts cuz it’s so late and my period hormones got me giggling thinking of him 🤭🤭

y'all I won't lie, I was outside today and my neighbours were working on their deck and they were grunting... thoughts were being thunk, anyways I am ALWAYS down for breeding kink ghost that man has a grip on me

warnings: mdni (18+), est relationship, unprotected pinv, creampie, dirty talk

You don't even get a second to welcome him home cause the minute he's in the door he grabs you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hoisting you into the air.

It takes you by surprise how fast he is, ripping his mask off and kissing you, it's rough and needy, he's exhausted from work and he craves you.

He lays you down on the bed, practically ripping your clothes off so he can see you, he takes exactly 20 seconds to gaze at your body beneath him, your chest rising and falling before his lips attack every part of your skin.

His fingers work your clit, it's animalistic the way he touches you, pawing and nipping at your skin, you're panting under him as his hips slot into yours, he leans over you caging your frame with his.

There's nowhere for you to go, trapped by his arms, his chest pressing against yours keeping you pinned to the mattress as he kisses you.

He lines himself up and bottoms out in a single thrust, you yelp from the intrusion, your teeth biting into the flesh of his shoulder, he loves when you mark him, love bites or scratches from your nails, it turns him on quicker than anything.

"Shit, need you so bad love" His words escape through grunts

"Fuck I missed you Si" You're whimpering

He's thrusting his full length into you, settling back on his legs to watch where the two of you meet, he presses his hand flat against your stomach,

"Shit, can almost see myself inside you love"

His thumb circles your clit as his free hand grabs at your thighs, pulling them onto his shoulders to allow him deeper.

Everything in your mind blanks, the pleasure taking over your body, he's pounding into you with at least half his weight, his tip grinding against your cervix while he works your clit.

"Swear I'm gonna fuck a baby into you love, tight pussys fuckin swallowing me"

You moan at his words, spurring him on, he grabs both of your thighs and presses them against your stomach, his weight pinning you down as he rams into you, your slick coats his pubes as they grind against your clit, you're so close.

He leans down and his lips envelop your nipple, his teeth biting lightly and it's just the right mix of everything, your legs shake under him as you clench down on his cock, whines falling from your lips.

"Shit baby, don't move, gonna fill this little pussy"

You stare at him with hooded eyes,

"S'that what you want? You wanna walk around full of my cum, make sure everyone knows who this pussy belongs to?"

His eyes are dark, full of lust and your mouth falls open, trying its hardest to form words but all you can do is nod.

"Yeah, you want that? Gonna watch your stomach grow with my fuckin seed"

He presses down into you, using his full weight as he cums, burying his cock impossibly deep inside you as his cum floods your walls, you sigh at the feeling as he's grunting, light whimpers escaping his mouth as your pussy milks him.

He holds his softening cock inside you, ensuring that every drop makes it in before pulling out, using his fingers to push his spend back in.

Your body is on fire, every nerve burning for him as he collapses on top of you, using his elbows to hold some of his weight, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as he peppers kisses on your neck.

"Missed you so much lovie"

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost cod #mw2022 #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #reqs💌

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felibrary · 5 months

Text

cellphone love story — osamu dazai

*+ﾟsynopsis: recently, someone's been spam calling you to the point that you’re fed and pick up the phone, only to be greeted with someone by the name dazai who has been continuously trying to reach his dead friend. the calls however don't end here, rather, your (call) history with dazai starts to extend - slowly but surely forming a bond over time; the phone.

pairing: dazai x reader (gn) |wordcount: 2.5k (this was my personal hell) | content & warnings: fluff, mentions of odasaku and very very very small mention of chuuya, more than friends less than lovers at the end (can also be interpreted as lovers, but that's just what i had in mind yall), brief mentions of drinking, light angst if you squint, not proofread its 5 am yall…. ; oneshot

a/n: sorry that i havent posted anything in the past few days (eight days to be exact i think..) i hope this will somehow make it up :,)

you can't keep count anymore.

this is the third - no, maybe fourth time today the unknown number has called you. at some point they have to realize that they’ve gotten the wrong number, right?

it all started about one and a half weeks ago when you changed your phone number and received a new one. ever since that day someone has been continuously trying to call you. unfamiliar digits lit up on your screen as you were out with your friend, you ignored them, after all who were you to accept a call from an unknown number?

but, over the course of the evening the calls didn't stop, eerie and annoying ringtone constantly piercing through your ears until the calls took a halt at midnight. relief washing over you.

to your mishap the calls didn't stop there. sometimes they’d wake you up from a peaceful slumber, groggily pinching and rubbing your eyes before swiping the call away. other times your phone would ring at a work meeting where you had to awkwardly excuse yourself and turn off your phone.

admittedly, you're at fault for not blocking the number. all of your friends suggested that you should, reasoning it with the fact that the caller probably has some dirty schemes and motives and that you should just try and not get in touch with weird people like them.

which brings you to your current predicament, sitting on the couch with your favorite show playing in the background as you text a friend, until a certain but familiar series of digits show up on your phone screen. do they never know when to stop?

your fingers hover over the decline button and then over to the accept button, debating and contemplating if you should decline the call but you don’t. the pads of your fingers press down on the accept button and you wait.

you’re greeted with silence, what the hell? your patience runs thin, streaming like arid sand grains through an hourglass until they meet the bottom and gather there together with the others. it's been like thirty seconds into the call now, at this point they should've probably said something, at least a quiet hello. an exasperated sigh leaves your mouth and you begin “seriously? you’ve been calling me for the past week now and suddenly i pick up your calls you don’t say shit?” you complain.

“goodbye odasaku.” a sigh leaves the strangers mouth, a man you notice. “i suppose this is my sign to stop grieving and mourning over you.” his voice slightly quivers and the male chuckles sorrowfully. you can’t distinguish if it’s melancholy or relief that lace the bitter words.

you’re left with confusion, so many unanswered questions lie at the tip of your tongue but you don’t dare to utter a word. “apologies.” he speaks up once again, this time with a steadier voice. “you’re probably confused, my name is osamu dazai.” he politely introduces himself. even though you’re unable to see him and can’t see him nor his expression, your intuition tells you that he’s slightly grinning, that a ghost of a smile graces his lips, although a rather sad one.

“this phone number belonged to an old friend of mine.” dazai respires. a shaky “odasaku?” you whisper and let out a breath you yourself didn’t know you held in. “yeah, sakunosuke oda.” he hummed smilingly. “he’s gone.” dead, dazai wants to add but he refrains.

“his voicemail always played when i dialed his number and called.” he whispered. “it was pleasant to hear his voice, knowing that there are still fragments of odasaku out there. he understood me like no other, i miss him.” dazai meekly confessed in a hushed tone. “but those days are over, i suppose it’s for the better.” the male on the other line sighed.

an umpteen amount of words prickle on your tongue, they itch to be released and said, you wanted to say something - anything. but before you’re able to properly gather your words and form a sentence, dazai cuts you off.

“please excuse my intrusions in the past week. have a good rest.” a shrilling sound echoing through your living room symbolizes the end of the call and you’re left dumbfounded.

strident noises awake you from your sleep. you toss and turn in your sheets as you mindlessly try to find your phone, rolling over to lay on your side as you find it and tightly clutching it, gripping your phone as you’re greeted with a bright screen and a row of digits. dazais number, you realize.

no, you didn't save his number nor did you memorize in which order the digits were aligned but his phone number's unfamiliar digits have become quite familiar now. you check the time: 0.52 a.m. what was dazai doing at such time and why was he calling you out of all people? especially after he hung up on you a month ago.

“hello?” you groggily yawn. “ah.” a female voice on the other line yelps, she sounds relieved. “are you odasaku by any chance? could you pick up mr. dazai please?” the woman asks in a demure manner. “what’s the situation?” you rub your eyes, trying to stay awake. “well, mr. dazai is intoxicated - he’s drunk and is currently slumped over the counter.” she whispers into the phone.

“if that doesn’t bother you of course, i can also call someone else!” she hurriedly says. you're slipping out of your sheets to get out of your bed and move towards your hallway, loosely throwing over a thin jacket and checking its pocket if your car keys are in there. “it’s fine, can you tell me the location?” you tiredly ask. “yes of course. it’s bar lupin.” she replies. you check your phone and step outside your door moving towards your car “got it, i’ll be there in 20 minutes or so.” with that you end the call, get inside your car and put your hands on the steering wheel.

carefully you take a step inside the narrow bar, taking off your hood and immediately spotting dazai whose head was currently laying on the surface of the front bar. he was poking at his glass of whiskey, the ball of ice being almost fully melted. “dazai.” you call out. he turns around, hazel eyes meeting yours.

only then can you admire dazai for the first time. his dark brown is tousled and unkempt but it continues to gleam in the orange light. his arms are wrapped in bandages and there's a long beige, almost khaki, coat draped over his body. you can’t help but think that he’s kind of pretty.

“what are you doing here?” dazai asks in a fatigued tone. you show him your car keys and wag them in the air “here to pick you up.” you reply nonchalantly. “why?” his question is barely above a whisper.

why are you helping him? he doesn’t understand - he wishes to understand. the first impression you’ve received from dazai was when he was calling you non stop and now your second impression is him slumped over bar lupins front bar. dazai can’t tell if you’re just naive or really trying to be helpful out of politeness or rather out of kindness.

a certain kindness he’s only ever received from odasaku. helping someone like him out of kindness with no hidden intentions, offering a helping hand, smiling with utmost fondness.

“as if im leaving a somewhat nice drunkard alone. i’m not inhumane.” even though your answers are full of nonchalance, dazai can make out a certain sincerity that lies in your words.

his eyes can only follow as you tilt your head towards the door. “let's get you back home.” you gently smile.

dazai wakes up to the sound of birds chirping and sizzling oil. he’s warm, a soft blanket covering his body only then dazai realizes that this isn’t his bed, that he’s not lying in his futon. he looks around before his gaze lands on the bedside table which had a glass of water atop it, marked with a little sticky note that said “drink this, you’ll feel much better and come find me in the kitchen :)”

he can’t recall everything that happened yesterday, it all went past him like a blur the only thing he remembered was that you came to pick him up. dazai grabbed the glass and gulped it down in one go, some of its content seeping down his chin and wiping it away with his sleeve before sliding out of the bed with the glass in his hand to return it to you.

finding your kitchen wasn’t hard, it was located right next to the dining room where a variety of dishes were placed on the dining table. dazai enters the kitchen, without you noticing and sees you whisking up two eggs with a pair of chopsticks before speaking up “here.” dazai coughs and places the glass on the counter near the sink to express his gratitude.

“oh, it’s no problem.” you shoot him a small smile. your hand reaches over to the salt and pepper to season the eggs with before carefully putting the egg mixture into the hot greased pan. admittedly dazai feels a bit out of place - useless (when was he ever not) so he offers to wash your dishes which you happily agreed to.

besides the sound of sizzling fat and water running down the faucet, it's quiet in your kitchen. “how’d she know whom to call?” you’re the first to speak up, eyes still concentrated on frying the eggs as you hum a small melody.

“the bartendress?” dazai asks in response.

“yeah.”

“well, odasaku’s number, which is your number now, is one of my emergency contacts, i suppose she just called you first.” dazai shrugs his shoulders, his hands still focused on rubbing away the dirty spots on your plates.

“i see.”

“if the old man, my favourite bartender by the way." dazai winks. "if he would’ve been here he would’ve called slug.” dazai lets out a small laugh, probably the most sincere laugh he let out in the past few weeks.

“slug” you ask, soft voice laced with confusion.

“an old friend of mine.” dazai smiles sadly. “odasaku and him are both my emergency contacts.” he chuckles.

dazai doesn’t talk about the topic much further and neither do you, assuming it’s a sensitive topic for him. “i’m done, how about you?” you look over to dazai who’s currently washing his hands off with lavender soap. “mhm, me too.” he hums in agreement at which you can smile at.

dazais eyes trail after you as you leave the kitchen and move to the dining room, setting down all the plates and pouring two glasses of water. “sit down and eat up.” your eyes sway from his eyes over to the chairs. only then does dazai notice that his beige coat is neatly folded on one of your dining chairs. it makes his heart jump lightly.

he sits down and takes a sip out of his glass, waiting until you start to eat first before he gets to. he smiles contently as you happily chew on your food. “does it taste good?” he cringes at himself when he realizes just how awkward that question is, he feels like a teenager again that was always wary of what people thought of him.

“it tastes amazing! wanna try?” you slide the plate over to dazai, offering him to take a piece. “sure.” he agrees before taking a small bite. you weren’t lying when you said that it tasted amazing. “you're right, it tastes so good.” dazai says ecstatically. “told you so! my cooking is not to be underestimated.” you laugh and dazai can’t help but laugh too which makes him cough uncontrollably, putting a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t spit out anything on your table cloth but continuing to laugh.

“oh god dazai, are you okay?” you rush over to his aid and put your hand over his back to slide over it, hoping that it’ll somehow soothe his coughing. dazai manages to muffle out a “i’m fine, really.” between his coughs and laughs which you can only sigh at but can’t help the smile that finds its way onto your face and plasters itself on your lips.

calls with dazai have become more frequent now, although he sometimes still remains a mystery to you, it feels like he’s grown quite comfortable around you.

he told you more about himself (vice versa), talks about his work at the armed detective agency and sends you recipes the both of you could recreate. not only calls with him became more frequent but also visits.

at least four out of seven times a week dazai rushes to your place after work (you should probably call it your shared home now due to dazai leaving his stuff at your place like scattered objects on the floor).

for example, today: dazai walks into your kitchen like he owns the place. he sets down his belongings onto your couch before stepping towards the kitchen where he already finds you chopping the vegetables for the curry.

he notices that you’re on the verge of tearing up as you continuously chop the onions into small bits and grabs a tissue before sneaking up behind you and scaring you. “boo.” his mouth forms a little “o” and you slightly jump before setting the knife down and putting your hand over your heart. “you scared me!” you complain even though dazai can see the playful glint in your eyes.

“sorry, sorry.” he laughs before wiping away the small droplets of tears that managed to escape your eyes.

his calloused hands brush over your soft skin, it’s intimate - romantic even. you softly sigh against the tissue, the object that separates the two of you. the action makes your face lightly heat up and you’re sure that dazai noticed it too from the way he’s smirking.

“aw, was i able to fluster you?” he coos at you smilingly, which in response you can only huff at, eyeing him with a look that says “you already know the answer.” before turning around to continue where you left off.

in the meantime dazai pulls out another cutting board and starts to chop the carrots. it’s quiet, it’s always quiet when the two of you cook together, but neither you nor dazai mind. the smell of aromatics that nip and continue to linger in the air and the sound of your jazz playlist which sometimes gets outplayed by the sounds of cutting or frying food, are more than enough. it’s just like the first time the two of you shared this space together, a certain nostalgia suddenly washing over him.

“thank you” he whispers, barely loud enough to not get overplayed by the music playing in the background.

“for what?” you ask, longing for an answer.

for the times you’ve picked me up at bar lupin, for the times you’ve cooked me warm meals, for the times when you took care of me.

“for everything.”

this is dedicated to my odasaku person @azullumi (don't die pls i need u and ur fics HHDDISISISIS). you've always told me that you liked odasaku a lot and that some day you also want to open up an orphanage which i find really endearing. what i mean by "you're my odasaku person" is not "wow we're literally so odasaku and dazai coded" but no rather it's because you also play such a major role in my life (not just cause of the age gap between oda and dazai and u and me..). you're always there when i need you, you're always there when i needed you and i hope that you'll always be there when i need you. but the same thing goes vice versa; goes for me. azul you're someone whom i've randomly met and if i never made that one comment or sent that one ask or if you never sent that one dm i would've never written this. you're someone who reassures me and soothes my worries with simple words, when i'm feeling down you're the person i turn to because you're the only person who really understands and somehow relates and thus i'm always able to trust and follow your judgement and advice. i never feel judged or belittled by you or treated as someone whose only an immature kid, no you treat me as a normal person, like a friend. which makes me feel seen - acknowledged even. to be loved is to be seen. i could go hours when it comes about talking to you and what impact you have on my life, but i suppose that's for another end note dsjsdsuusus. you're so dear to me. i love you a lot azul <3

#felis staple of books ⋆·˚ ༘ *#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs fluff #bsd fluff #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs imagines #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai fluff #bsd dazai #bsd dazai osamu

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seventh-district · 1 year

Text

Midnight Hour

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

You awake in the middle of the night to find your lover in tears.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,139

Content Warnings: [crying (obviously)] [non-specific mentions of Astarion's past trauma] [this fic was written by someone who hasn't actually played the game and that might show in the details/the lack thereof]

Blinking your tired eyes open, you squint at the light of the crackling fire in front of you. Closing them again, you let out a soft sigh as you try to guess at the current time. Given that you woke on your own, you’re assuming it’s likely close to, but not quite, time for you to take over tonight’s watch shift.

Your group has fallen into a routine where you pair off into teams of two, and a different team keeps watch each night. Tonight’s turn belongs to you and Astarion, and he’s taken the first half of the shift as usual. You usually, ironically, sleep your best on the nights that he keeps watch, in spite of only getting half the amount of sleep as you do on the nights another team has the job.

You suppose you can credit the fact that, at the end of the day, Astarion is a creature of the night. Something about knowing he has the upper hand when it comes to any unwanted nighttime visitors your group may encounter is… reassuring. To you, as well as to the others in the group, loathe as some of them may be to admit it. That is, once they all felt confident in his promises to not make a surprise midnight snack of them, at least.

Tonight is a bit of an exception, though, and you’re not quite sure what woke you early this time. You typically sleep soundly until he gently coaxes you awake, nails combing through your hair, voice soft and apologetic in your ear. He’s always somewhat reluctant to wake you, but he does so nonetheless, having learned his lesson after the first time he made the executive decision to let you sleep the whole night through. His arguments of “You really looked like you could use the rest.” and “What’s one sleepless night? I can sleep when I’m dead.” didn’t hold much water in the face of the way he dragged ass through the entire next day.

In “the spirit of fairness” and “proving that he can stick to an agreement,” he never tried to take the whole shift by himself again. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how guilty he felt when he heard the disappointment in your tone when you awoke that first morning and discovered he hadn’t stuck to the plan. Definitely.

Laying there in the quiet, you try and fail to pinpoint what feels different about tonight. You don’t hear any strange noises, nothing feels unusual, and blinking your eyes open again you raise your head a bit to look around the fire. The rest of the group are circled around the other sides of the heat source, sleeping soundly. You figure that you’re probably just getting used to this routine by now, and your body simply woke up around your usual shift change time on its own.

Still, that doesn’t explain the vague, unplaceable feeling that something is just… off.

You let out a sigh that turns into a yawn as you stretch and roll away from the fire onto your back. Letting your head roll further to the left, your eyes land on the familiar sight of your lover’s back as he sits in his usual position beside you, diligently watching your six.

He’s taken to placing his bedroll right next to yours, insisting that you lie between the fire and himself. You couldn’t really argue with his point that he can’t feel the cold anyways, so there’s no need for him to be the one next to the fire. Nor could you argue with the benefits of having him as a line of defense between you and whatever lurks beyond the reach of the firelight.

The feeling of security and protection that he provides you with is still relatively foreign to you, and a soft smile blooms on your face at the warm feeling it brings. Your smile then falls a bit as you remember the silent question you ask yourself on the regular, of whether or not you provide him with the same.

You roll the rest of the way to your left, and shuffle further toward him, closing what remains of the small gap he’d placed between the two of you. Lying halfway on your bedroll and halfway on his, you curl your body around his seated form, bringing your right arm up and gently placing a hand on the right side of his waist. He flinches slightly, and if this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d retract your hand. He’s long since informed you though that his reaction to unexpected touch is simply involuntary, and as long as it’s you, you’ve no need to pull away.

You recall the quiet, restrained desperation in his voice when he first explained it to you, all but begging you not to pull away. He can’t control the way his body reacts to touch, given that before you, he couldn’t recall the last time being touched meant anything other than pain. In spite of that though, he wants it. He wants you. That’s obvious in the way that he, without fail, immediately relaxes under your gentle touch once his mind and body process that it’s coming from you. The way he’s come to not only relax, but to lean into it. Lean into you.

You’d never push past his boundaries, never in a million years, but he’s made it quite clear after about a thousand of your quiet requests for consent at every minor touch, that he’s entirely welcoming of your non-sexual physical affections. Getting the man to verbally admit that he actually enjoys cuddling with you, without the truth being concealed beneath a heavy layer of playful banter and practiced, honeyed words didn’t come easy, but he came around to it in his own time.

So, you don’t pull back, instead following through with the motion and slowly snaking your arm around his waist. You press your front against his lower back and curl around to rest your left cheek atop his left thigh. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t relax into you in the way he usually does, and your head turns to the right a bit, struggling to get a half-decent look at his face as you’re both turned away from the fire light.

He remains tense, still, and unresponsive to your movements, gaze seemingly locked dead ahead of him, staring out into the dark forest.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks. He’s actively crying, tears dripping from his chin, and now with his head tilted down at you they take a different path, running down to converge and fall from the tip of his nose.

You nearly bolt upright in your shock, quickly unwrapping yourself from him and clambering around on all fours until you’re sat down in front of him, your hands gripping tightly to your upper thighs in worry. His wide-eyed gaze followed your every movement, and even now that you’re sat still in front of him, his eyes still dart around, frantically scanning you, for what, you don’t know.

“What- what’s going on?”

You keep your voice as quiet as you reasonably can in spite of your shock and concern, not eager to wake your companions and have everyone witness… whatever this is.

He doesn’t respond, looking just about as lost as you feel, shaking his head in silence as more tears fall. It’s one hell of a sight, and it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

Unsure of what to do and what even caused this, you resist the urge to wrap him in a hug, not wanting to overstep in this unfamiliar territory. Instead, you glance back over your shoulder and once again see and hear nothing of note before trying another question.

“Is there a threat? Did you see something that scared you, honey?”

He takes a long moment to answer, seeming unsure, before eventually settling on another shake of his head. His lack of confidence in his answer isn’t the most reassuring thing at the moment, but given that you aren’t detecting any danger either, you decide to believe that he really didn’t see any threat. At least, not here. Not right now, in the present moment, in front of him. He seems about halfway here and halfway gone, and if your growing suspicions are correct, he’s probably been sat here lost in the dark corners of his mind for a while now, given the state he’s in.

You catch movement to Astarion’s right side and watch as Karlach raises up from her prior position sprawled out face-down on her bedroll, propping herself up with her forearms beneath her. Her expression of concern is too aware and her eyes are too awake for her to have just now woken up, and you quickly gather that she’s probably been awake and laying there long enough to have heard your questions and Astarion’s lack of any verbal response. She doesn’t say anything though, and doesn’t move, just letting the situation unfold and keeping a watchful eye on the darkness behind you.

Relaxing slightly at the knowledge that someone else is awake and helping to keep watch now, your focus shifts back to Astarion, who’s gaze has moved to his lap, tears still falling fast. It’s almost unsettling, the way he cries. There’s no sound, no movement, his breathing is hardly even affected, nothing more than the occasional shaky breath to give away any sign of struggle at all. You don’t have to guess why it’s like this, given what he’s told you about his past. You’re sadly certain that he learned to cry like this ages ago. Silent and still, sat alone in the dark so no one would notice.

You don’t want to think about the sorts of punishments he’s endured as a result of showing such pain and emotion, but your mind pulls from what experiences he’s shared and offers up a few anyways, making you begin to feel sick.

Leaning down and trying to catch his gaze, you ask another question.

“Astarion, are you with me right now?”

He blinks, more tears spill, and his lips finally part as he responds to you with a strained whisper.

“I’m trying to be…”

You smile in spite of your current emotions and the general mood of the situation, doing your best to be something positive, something gentle, something safe for him to focus on.

“There you are…”

You say it to yourself as much as to him, relieved to finally hear his voice, as laced with pain as it sounds. You hold out your hand near where his lie balled into fists in his lap, offering him contact without forcing it on him.

“I want you to keep trying, okay? Do your best to come back into the present with me. You can take my hand, if you’d like?”

He stares down at your offered hand for a long moment before shakily unballing one of his fists. He hesitates, fingers trembling, before reaching out and placing his hand in yours. His skin is even colder than usual and slightly damp to the touch, and you couldn’t be less put off, or give less of a fuck about the messy state of him right now, or ever, if you’re being honest. You just want to help him, however you can.

You curl your warm fingers around his palm, wanting to pull him into a hug so badly but restraining yourself, letting him call the shots.

“You’re okay now, Star. You’re safe right now, here with me. We’re safe.”

He’s quiet for another long moment as he shuts his eyes tight, taking in your words. His other fist unfurls, and his body trembles almost imperceptibly.

“I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Your heart breaks.

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all, I promise you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, his voice an insistent whisper.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensely held up, body slumping with a silent sigh as you watch him still try to hold this wall up between the two of you. You’d made it past a number of his walls already, but this one… this one you’ve yet to be granted access behind.

“It’s okay to cry, you know?”

Another shake of his head, this time with far more force behind it, almost vehement.

“No.”

You soften your voice, insisting.

“Yes. It is. You can cry now, Astarion. No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna judge you. I swear on my life, that’s the truth.”

His breaths become more labored, uneven and shaking.

“You aren’t his anymore. The old rules don’t apply. You can let it out, now. No one, and I mean no one, is going to punish you for it.”

His eyes pinch closed and his head shakes hard side to side, like he’s fighting his own mind, and his hand opens and closes like it wants to grab onto something. He then moves, wrapping his free hand around your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled toward him, desperately, insistently.

You follow the motion as he continues to tug at you, first leaning forward and propping yourself up with your other hand on the ground as he continues to pull you closer. You quickly gather what he wants as he lets go of your hand in favor of latching onto your other arm, pulling you upward, choking back tears all the while.

You raise up on your knees and his hands move once again to hook beneath your arms as you allow yourself to be pulled up onto his lap with physical strength you keep forgetting he possesses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into you. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and he buries his face into the fabric of your shirt at the collar, muffling the soft sound of his crying which has now turned to full-blown sobs.

He’s still shockingly quiet in spite of it all, and you imagine it’s a mixture of being unable to let go of what’s ingrained into him, and not wanting to alert the entire camp to his current breakdown.

Your thumbs stroke up and down in place on his back, not wanting to let go of your hold on him but still wanting to give him some sort of comforting motion to focus on. Besides, you figure petting across the entire expanse of his scarred back might do the opposite of calming him down, so you refrain and keep your arms wrapped firmly around him. Turning your head down toward his, you whisper to him in between soft kisses to his temple.

“That’s it, love. Let it out.”

“You’re safe now, Astarion, I swear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“You have every right to cry. No one ever should’ve taken that away from you.”

He grips you even tighter as you shower him with painfully unfamiliar affection and acceptance, comfort unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his horribly long life. His forehead presses against your right shoulder as his crying slows, trying to ground himself and catch his breath. You make a point of holding him securely against you, breathing slow and deep to give him an example to follow.

You catch movement in your periphery and glance over at Karlach as she quietly sits up and makes a series of silent lip movements and hand gestures that you don’t entirely grasp. You work them out to mean that she’s gonna take over watch for the rest of the night, and you can rest with Astarion. You send her a grateful look and mouth a “thank you,” to which she waves you off with what you think you read as a silent “don’t mention it” on her lips.

After a short while spent focused on slowing down his breath and bringing him fully out of his memories and back here with you, you whisper quiet words in his ear.

“Your work is done, Astarion. You can rest now.”

You mean it in both possible interpretations of the words, and he seems to understand that, his body finally relaxing against yours for the first time tonight.

“You wanna lie down with me, love?”

He seems like he almost nods, but stops himself, whispering back in an exhausted voice, scratchy and thick from crying.

“Someone has to keep watch.”

You hesitate to inform him that Karlach has already taken over that role for tonight, sure that he’d get no sleep at all if he knew she’d witnessed this. You know you’re gonna be awake watching over him for the rest of the night anyways, so instead, you offer a compromise.

“I can hold you and keep watch at the same time, love. Just… let me sit and you can lay against me.”

He gives the suggestion a moment of thought before nodding his head, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You maneuver the both of you carefully so as to avoid allowing his tired eyes to catch sight of your obviously awake companion sitting behind him.

It isn’t much of a task considering his eyes are halfway closed already, his only remaining focus locked on you. You settle down at the head of his bedroll, guiding him to lie down and bringing his head to rest in the center of your lap.

Your hands take turns gently combing fingers through his white curls, and you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at the feeling. You bring a thumb down and gently stroke over the lines creasing his brow, quietly encouraging him to release the tension he likely doesn’t realize he’s holding. You watch him pull in a deep, albeit still slightly unsteady breath, and you can practically feel the relief that washes over him when he exhales.

Words aren’t necessary between the two of you at this point, not in this moment, but you offer him a few anyways, hoping they’ll resonate in his tired mind as he slips into sleep.

“You’re safe here, Star. Rest easy.”

A/N: Like I said in the CWs, I haven't played the game for myself (yet!) so I only know what I've seen in the hours of (mostly Astarion-focused) scenes I've watched on YT. As a result, this might have read a bit funny if I've gotten certain details wrong. For instance- I have no idea how resting at the camp actually goes, whether or not someone keeps watch all night, etc. Also I'm not sure if Astarion even needs to actually sleep or if he meditates/falls into a trance and just calls it sleep, but for the sake of simplicity, (and me being clueless,) when I say he falls into sleep just assume he's doing whatever he'd normally do to rest. On a different note- this little fic was inspired by a combination of two things. The lovely art and additional commentary on this post, by @velnna , and also by me listening to Midnight Hour by Sierra Eagleson on loop for like, an hour, and daydreaming up this specific scene before proceeding to write it out. It is a beautiful song that is now the title and theme-song for this fic, and I encourage you to go give it a listen if you haven't heard it already. Header Image Source: x

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #my writing #man. this may be the quickest turnover/turnaround whateverthewordis on a fic that i've ever made happen #i usually sit on an idea and then a draft for ages before posting smthn. so given that it's only been a couple days #between the initial idea and the finished posted fic. wow. groundbreaking speeds for me #the power of hyperfixation (and love)#y'know. i've noticed a trend #why is it that nearly every time i write for a new character the first scenario i place them in involves crying #and having Reader hold/comfort them #i did it with Eddie i did it with Venti i'm doing it with Astarion. who's next. who's next in the Reverse Comfort lineup huh #idk why that's my go-to scenario it just is. maybe i do have a type. (characters that need to have a good cry in their beloved's arms)#or maybe perhaps it is i that needs the good cry and i am projecting. who knows. 'tis a mystery (it's both)#anyways i know this fic is a bit short but i just. had one little specific scene i wanted to write and that's it!#i do plan on making more for him though. i've already got another idea brewing in my brain #also sorry if 'honey' and 'love' aren't your go-to pet names. or if you wouldn't call him Star #my own style of speech heavily influences what i have Reader say in my fics and i can't help itttttt. everything i write is self-insert lma #*lmao (i’m on mobile rn i’m not retyping all of that just to add the last letter)#(yes i’m posting this from mobile cause i took a nap and overslept and missed the time i wanted to post this at. so now i am In A Rush #smthn smthn self imposed deadlines smthn smthn ‘i know the guy that made the rules and he’s a total pushover’ anyways it’s fine. post draft

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kysuguru · 1 year

Text

two out of three. that’ll work — stsg x fem!reader

synopsis : gojo still doesn’t take to you, but in the throes of your eyes geto’s smile is prettier and shoko’s personality is much more welcoming. you’ll live.

all mine masterlist

includes / cw : nothing ^_^

a / n : i’m sooooo sooo so sorry for such a long wait, truly. i nitpick HELLA. and i want everyone to remember this book was made on a whim. an impulse book if u will. so even though i have concrete ideas and outlines for the main plots, i’m writing as i go while making my way there. I trashed this about three times before finally coming to a conclusion i was somewhat satisfied with. please enjoy

You lay awake, staring at the ceiling of your dorm absentmindedly. Your alarm has yet to ring. It’s presumably thirty minutes before you have to get up and prepare for the day. Your eyes are burning and it hurts to blink, your throat feels dry and scratchy; aching for its thirst to be quenched, and your body is exhausted beyond belief. Your brain craves rest more than anything, but you still aren’t able to succumb to that sweet sleep you crave. It’s been about 15 minutes already, you think. If the steadily rising sun is anything to go by. Time passes by fast when you need it to be slow. Maybe it’s the nerves. Or the fact that it wasn’t until midnight that you returned to your dorm.

Five hours of sleep was the minimum you could get, your brain didn’t let you rest long. But you figured you’d be alright. Whenever curses were near your house, one instance of one being in your bedroom, you remember not sleeping at all if not at least 30 minutes. You got in trouble that day and scolded by your mother for sleeping in class.

As of now, your eyes are droopy and red and your body feels cramped. But the accomplishment you feel after understanding more of this foreign world of curses overrode your exhaustion. You’re not sure if you feel that same sentiment now though. You cursed your past self for putting you through such strain. Your thirst for knowledge occasionally brought you one step forward and two steps back. Being all knowing was the only way you felt significant.

As of the moment, it was one of those instances where your yearning hurt more than it nourished. Though, it was all really fascinating. Cursed energy, cursed techniques, and how they worked and came to be, there wasn’t a second you could bring yourself to put the books down. To believe the negative emotions of people fester into those horrid creatures…

It’s no wonder they were around every single corner of your school.

You’re embarrassed to say you still have no idea what your technique is, or the innate technique you were born with — or if you had an innate technique for that matter. From what you know being born with an innate technique isn’t all that likely. They manifest from ages 4-6 yet no matter how much you shuffled through your memories to see if there were any instances where you were forced to use your technique, you’re left with nothing. Maybe you did and just don’t know or don’t remember — that’s the most irritating part. You grip your hair slightly, eyes burning into the white of your walls.

There are bags forming under your eyes, you think. It hurts a bit to blink, since you got accustomed to keeping them open while flipping through books, the intrigue not allowing you to divert your attention from the pages for even a second. But to you, it was worth it. One more step to learning about this and making your way back home. To where your mother was (hopefully) missing you just as much as you do her. Maybe you should get up and attempt to cover up the evidence of your lack of sleep.

You turn to lay on your side, staring at your open palm. If you look close enough you can see a faint scar. You clench your fist closed, blinking groggily. Your breathing starts to get steadier as you stare at your knuckles, your eyes feel as if weights are pulling them down, your mind wanders to random things you don’t remember thinking about a millisecond later.

Before you know it, you’re falling asleep.

Though the three seconds of bliss was nice while it lasted, before the familiar obnoxious beep of your alarm clock rang through your ears.

You sigh. You should’ve expected that. Your mind slipped once you woke and you forgot to turn that damned thing off. Though maybe that mistake was a blessing, being late to your first day of class would be a horrible first impression. Or would it be second..?

Now you stand in the mirror and eye your uniform with intense uncertainty. You have an inkling that you look stupid. So you tug your skirt down a little bit. Ok, now you look 12. You pull up the hem.

…

Maybe you should add stockings.

The addition is better, you deduce. You’re content with this. You smile at your reflection, speaking encouraging words to yourself internally. You feel your body shake a bit at the idea of entering the classroom, the thought of four pairs of eyes glued to your form, but your body relaxes slightly at the memory of Shoko. She called you her friend, whether or not it was genuine, you’ll take what you can get. There is no point in being greedy and craving for what you don’t have — or deserve.

You lift your leg and adjust the back of your shoe to fit over the sole of your feet properly. You huff in satisfaction, standing straight and adjusting whatever you could before heading out.

Wait. Do you need supplies? Shit, now you’re nervous all over again.

Wait, wait, wait. If you needed supplies, you would’ve been informed earlier, so if required, Yaga should be obligated to give you what you don’t have.

…That’s unless he did mention it and you just weren’t listening.

Your back is against your dorm room door as you grip your head in agony. Maybe you should just tell Yaga you got the one-day flu and figure it all out tomorrow.

“Yo. You look like an idiot doing that.”

The voice is familiar, but not familiar in the way you’d like. He was no Geto, and he definitely wasn’t Shoko. You look up, eyes watery, and meet Gojo’s gaze.

“You going through something? Wait, don't answer that, I don’t wanna know,” He says, waving his hand obnoxiously, his lips downturned. “Hate to interrupt whatever’s goin’ on, but class is in thirty minutes. If you’re anything like Suguru you’re an early bird, right?”

“Oh.. sort of,” You respond, trying to discreetly wipe whatever tears that might’ve formed. He watches you do it anyway, following your movements closely. You’re a little humiliated now. He probably thinks you’re pathetic.

His stare is unrelenting, you can feel it even behind those pitch black lenses. It burns into you. Through you. You drop his gaze, eyes on the floor as you shuffle your feet.

Did he need anything else? You’re grateful he let you know when class begins, but you two aren’t exactly best friends, and you're positive this is awkward for the both of you.

But you see his shoes from your peripheral view and they stay rooted to the floor. You hold back a shaky sigh.

“Are you heading to class right now?” You ask in hopes to get rid of the suffocating silence. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to starting conversations. Your eyes are still memorizing every dirt particle on your new shoes (which feel odd to wear, you’re so used to staring anxiously at the ones your mother gifted you a year or two ago). Why did he, out of all people, approach you during your crisis? You wished more than anything that it was Shoko, but from what you know about her alone, you’re more sure than ever that she doesn’t go to class early.

“I don’t usually go early, that’s Suguru’s thing. But I guess todays an exception.” You blink, he has a lot to say. You expected a short, clipped answer. “Anyways what’re you doing out here, and what was with the gripping your head thing? Going through a phase?” He asks a barrage of questions, making sure to push his glasses up in case they slipped a smidge. You seemed perceptive, he didn’t need you staring him down and reading him.

“Oh, I was nervous. That’s all.”

Gojo nods, staring at you for a few seconds longer before his feet finally pick up from their spot on the floor. He’s walking off.

“Wait!” Your heartbeat spikes as the exclamation leaves your lips.

His shoes squeak against the tiles as he halts. He doesn’t turn towards you, but the fact that he stopped let you know he heard you. You don’t know why your heart is beating so loud, you’re only asking a simple question.

“Do we need any particular supplies for class, by any chance?” Your voice rises a pitch, and you fiddle with your skirt, positive you’re coming off as annoying.

“We take notes every now and then, by we I don’t mean me, so a notebook would be nice but isn’t required, and you don’t look like you have one with you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, finally facing you, “Let’s hope you have a good memory. Sensei likes to run his mouth.” He jabs, most likely to see you panic. It works.

Your eyes widen and you bite your lip, fiddling with your skirt, but you’re shocked once you hear Gojo laugh. He throws his head back and you stare a bit. You’re gonna admit, you expected it to be a little more rough and loud. It sounds a bit odd, but it’s kinda funny to listen to, almost enough to make you laugh along. Now the question that’s been sitting on your tongue has the sudden urge to come forward.

Your mouth moves before your mind processes, “Can I walk to class with you?”

“Huh?”

You screwed up, you didn’t mean to ask that — I mean you did. But with his response you’re kind of regretting it now. “Sorry. It’s just I don’t remember the way, and if you’re on your way there I thought maybe I can tag along. Though, it’s okay if you say no.” You wave your hands frantically, trying your best to salvage whatever dignity you have left. You instantly start playing with your nails, looking down at your shoes.

He’s silent for a moment, as if contemplating. Then he sighs.

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

You beam, thankful.

“I promise not to be annoying.”

“You’re already being annoying by saying that.”

“Sorry!”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sorry. Oh wait uh..”

“…”

He scoffs before walking forward. You sprint a bit to catch up with his pace. He has really long legs. You stare at his side profile as he walks, if he notices your eyes, he doesn’t say anything. But you catch the twitch of his brow. You watch every movement you catch on his features intently, dead set on getting to know him more. You wonder if your gaze feels as burning as his does on you. As if he knows you inside out.

You were never aware of your staring problem until now.

Gojo is struggling himself. Trying not to meet your gaze. It proves to be difficult, for he wants to glare you down and watch you squirm nervously before you finally break eye contact. He hates how bare he feels when you stare.

“Gojo, what’s your inherited technique?”

“Infinity,” he pops a sucker into his mouth, uninterested. But you ignore that, eyes wide as you gasp in awe, intrigued.

“Can you explain that to me?”

Gojo catches sight of your expecting face, how your eyes glittered as your lips part. He can’t help the stroke of his ego. He quickly became smug.

“I have the ability to manipulate and distort space.” His glasses slip a smidge down the bridge of his nose, you can see a sliver of his eyes. He doesn’t push them up like you expect him to, he tends to do that — from what you’ve noticed — and they’re glowing. “Hold out your hand,” he demands, long fingers splayed out in your face.

You reach up and before you can press your fingertips against his palm, a barrier is manifested between the two of you. “Woah, there’s like.. a wall between us.”

“It’s infinity.”

You look up at him, even more in awe, “So it’s science, right? That makes it easy to explain then, huh? I thought it was way more complicated than that.” You’re too engrossed in repeatedly retracting your hand and pressing it back against this “barrier” to notice how Gojo’s expression shifts.

He pulls his hand back as if he’d been burnt and you blink, swiftly putting your own hand back by your side. A frown plagues your lips. You figure you did get a bit carried away, it was really nice to see a cursed technique at play for the first time ever. And you’re glad it was something as magnificent as that. You got excited, forgetting boundaries.

Before you can express your gratitude and apologize, Gojo is striding off once more. You notice this time he’s walking a bit faster, as if he intends on leaving you behind. Your brows knit as you sigh. You don’t jog up to him this time, letting the distance between you increase. You’re always taught not to be greedy. Occurrences like this coming into play to drill that in your head, yet you fail every time — constantly wanting more.

You enter the classroom a bit after Gojo, already seeing him with a big beam on his face as he rambles off with Geto. He’s mad at you again, you think. This is normal for you — people being upset with you. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. You try your hardest to pretend it doesn’t.

Shoko’s not here yet, unfortunately. You see two empty seats and assume the vacant one by Geto is Shoko’s, so you take the other seat. You aren’t sure what to do with this extra time, you shouldn’t have come so early, so you settle with fiddling with your fingers and looking out the window.

You hear Geto’s voice and you’re not sure if you’re being looked at, but you’re way too nervous to check, afraid that if you looked you’d be caught.

“Ogawa.”

It isn’t until a full minute later you realize that Geto was trying to get your attention the entire time. You finally look at him, the curiosity brimming in your chest and the urge to look back finally sated. His smile is kind and soft. He pats the empty seat beside him. “Why don’t you sit?”

You jolt.

“Isn’t that Shoko’s seat?” You point nervously, trying to find a way out of this. If conversation is what Geto is looking for, you’re the last person that can provide.

Gojo scoffs and you retreat into yourself, eyes averted.

You faintly hear Geto shove Gojo and tell him to shut up over the loud pounding of your heartbeat before he’s turning back to you, that same, already familiar smile plastered on his lips. “I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“You.. really want me to sit by you?” You ask, hopefully. You guess you still have yet to learn and expect disappointment. Geto nods, his smile getting brighter and you glow like the stars.

You stand meekly, shuffling into the seat as quietly as you could, cringing when the metal cried loudly against the tile floor. Geto huffs in satisfaction and your shoulders relax a bit. You wish Gojo weren’t here to stare the both of you down, you feel somewhat uncomfortable by his overwhelming presence. You have an inkling that disturbing you is his goal, for a small smirk paints his lips.

Geto’s voice is soft as he speaks to you. He’s asking you about yourself and you answer somewhat vaguely, unsure of how to go about talking to him. You stammer a bit, trying to find your words. You get a bit fidgety, afraid he might get irritated with you, but he’s as patient as ever, smiling as he awaits your answer. That’s when you relax completely, finding it easier to answer him in stride. You never knew Geto could be so easy to talk to. You’re starting to like him even more. It’s hard not to favor people who are nice to you. But you can’t get ahead of yourself. You have to learn to expect disappointment so you won’t be disappointed.

Gojo doesn’t say a word, staring at the two of you converse so easily. He doesn’t understand why Geto seems so interested in getting to know you. You’re boring, you don’t even know your technique for crying out loud. Weak people piss Gojo off.

Gojo walks by you as you hold your head in your hands, leaning against your dorm door. He’s confused, are you going through something? You look stupid, and he withholds the urge not to laugh at your expense. If Geto were here he’d definitely scold him. He thinks of that and the nagging Geto would put him through. He rolls his eyes and decides to approach.

“Yo. You look like an idiot doing that.”

Well he didn’t actually mean for it to come across that way, but sometimes his mouth likes to run before his brain liked to function.

You look up at him, tears brimming your lashes. The sight makes him sigh internally. If he knew you’d be crying he would’ve avoided you altogether. Comforting you is beyond his expertise. Well.. it’s not. He’d just rather not waste his time.

He asks if you were going through it. Another moment of his mouth moving before his brain. But you don’t seem to take offense, more like you just seem a bit embarrassed at being caught nearly crying.

“Hate to interrupt whatever’s goin’ on, but class is in thirty minutes. If you’re anything like Suguru you’re an early bird, right?”

You answer meekly, wiping your tears with your sleeve. He catches himself eyeing your attire behind his glasses. He’s staring at you and he’s positive you can tell, for your head tips towards the floor. You seem to be awaiting his departure, but he stays rooted to the floor, content on tormenting you this way.

“Are you heading to class right now?”

He never expected you to be the type to start a conversation, not with him especially. He noticed how uneasy you felt around him. But he cuts you some slack and answers.

“I don’t usually go early, that’s Suguru’s thing. But I guess todays an exception. Anyways what’re you doing out here, and what was with the gripping your head thing? Going through a phase?” He answers you and throws a barrage of questions coyly.

You blink. Gojo realizes how much left his mouth at once and pushes up his glasses. You come up with a sorry answer and Gojo decides he’s wasted enough time. If he got there now he could talk to Suguru about yesterday’s conversation with the higher ups before Yaga arrives. He starts to walk off, now considering the conversation boring.

Your voice interrupts his stride, you sound somewhat panicked and he contemplates hearing you out. You must’ve taken his stillness as a cue.

“Do we need any particular supplies for class, by any chance?”

You sound anxious, and he doesn’t even have to look to know you’re shuffling your feet.

“We take notes every now and then, by we I don’t mean me, so a notebook would be nice but isn’t required, and you don’t look like you have one with you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, and turns to face you. He was correct, this time you’re fiddling with your ridiculously long skirt.

“Let’s hope you have a good memory. Sensei likes to run his mouth.” The only entertaining thing about you is the expressions you make. And he isn’t disappointed with this one either. He doesn’t know why he finds your sorrow so comedic but this time he can’t hold back his laugh. If Geto knew about this or witnessed it, he’d definitely scold him, but Gojo doesn’t care at the moment, shoulders shaking as he cackled obnoxiously.

He sighs, wiping under his eyes, lifting his glasses a little. He thinks that’s enough for now, and prepares to walk off to class. But then you ask a question that makes him freeze, “Can I walk to class with you?”

“Huh?”

He raises a brow, he knows you can’t see it, but he’s looking at you as if you’re crazy.

You instantly wave your hands in panic, trying to explain yourself, he thinks your excuse is lame. “Sorry. It’s just I don’t remember the way, and if you’re on your way there I thought maybe I can tag along. Though, it’s okay if you say no.”

He’s extremely annoyed with you now, watching you fidget and shuffle about with a frown plaguing his lips. A rejection is already sitting on his tongue, ready to be fired, but he knows how disappointed Geto might be with him, so his shoulders drop.

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

He watches you instantly glow. You’re not smiling but he can tell you’re happy. It’s the first time he’s seeing an expression that isn’t filled with some type of despair on you. He thinks he prefers your anguish.

“I promise not to be annoying.”

He rolls his eyes, picking up his pace.

“You’re already being annoying by saying that.”

“Sorry!”

“Stop apologizing.”

You say sorry again and he scoffs to himself. Could you get any more annoying? He can hear your hurried footsteps as you try to match his stride, he feels a bit bad and slows down a bit, letting the two of you walk side by side. He did it to be nice, but it’s a decision he instantly regrets. Did your parents ever teach you that staring was impolite? The burning of your eyes against the side of his face pisses him off. But he tries his hardest not to show his anger on his face because of your intense stare.

He can’t help the twitch of his facade and he thinks you noticed. He’s resisting the urge to meet your stare, glare you down and watch you shuffle like you usually do. He craves to make you uncomfortable and show you who’s really stronger between the two of you. He really can’t comprehend where these hostile emotions are coming from but he also doesn’t care to dig deep and figure it out. It’ll come to him eventually. So for now he’ll get a bit excited as you ask about his cursed technique, jumping at the opportunity to show you how strong he is.

You’re in awe and his ego instantly skyrockets. You press your hand against his infinity over and over again, an intrigued gleam in your eyes as your lips part in a gasp.

“So it’s science, right? That makes it easy to explain then, huh? I thought it was way more complicated than that.”

For some reason that makes him irritated. “Easy to explain.” Funny coming from someone who had no idea what cursed techniques were barely twenty-four hours before. He pulls his hand away from you, as if he was burnt and instantly walks off. He thanks his long legs and their advantage to gain distance from you.

He resists the urge to turn and see your expression.

He originally did it all with Geto in mind; mulling over how he would feel if he’d left you deserted in that hallway, nervous eyes and shaky hands as you tried to find your way. Curse Geto for being such a heavy influence on him, because now he wished he’d never encountered you. Gojo considers his day already ruined before it barely started.

Now he sits and watches you converse with his best friend as if he was your best friend. Geto was always the friendly, welcoming type, so he can’t fathom why it irks him so. But it has to be your fault somehow, so until he figures that out he decides to brood in silence, arms crossed.

Shoko enters and your attention is instantly diverted. One of the many times Gojo is grateful for her existence. You were more comfortable with her than the other two. Probably a girls thing. Gojo didn’t care to understand. He instantly decided anything that had something to do with you would be ignored to the best of his abilities.

You greet Shoko in a quiet voice, as if cautious, and instantly brighten when she sends you a soft smile and a greeting in return. She points to her spot and looks at Geto inquisitively, hovering behind you. He just shrugs with a sheepish smile. So she simply sits and scoots her chair closer to you, waving her hand in a shooing motion towards Geto, “It’s my turn to hog her, your boyfriend looks upset, go comfort him.”

Geto’s head whips towards Gojo instantly, seeing his pouty expression with his arms crossed. He sighs in exasperation, a fond smile painting his lips.

You watch the two of them for a second or more before looking at Shoko. You didn’t know they were dating..

Shoko chuckles, and speaks up as if she read your mind, “They’re not actually dating. Yet, anyways. They love dancing in circles around each other. It’s irritating to witness. Utahime is a grade above me so unfortunately she doesn’t suffer through it as much as me.” She nudges you, her eyes crinkling as her smile stretches a bit wider, “You’re here with me now though, so we can suffer it together, kay?”

You nod eagerly, as if it was meant to be a good thing. Suffering anything is manageable if someone as kind as Shoko is there with you. You need to get her a gift for her kindness. Such a wonderful girl!

Yaga enters the room about twenty minutes later. Shoko lets you borrow a notebook of hers and you instantly get to jotting things down. You’re a bit surprised when you notice how mundane these subjects are. But it makes sense, you’re all still teenagers after all. You’d probably see it as inhumane if all this school taught to their students was jujutsu. No matter the importance of sorcerers and preserving the lives of non-sorcerers, it was always good to live life at least a little normally, to you anyways.

Time passed with you trying to avoid answering questions as much as possible. Even though you hated doing it, you also couldn’t help it. Whenever Yaga looked your way your eyes flew to your paper and you instantly got to acting busy to avoid getting picked on. Plus, it wasn’t like you needed to… Geto was there to answer every question smoothly for the rest of you, so there was no need, right?

Though you suppose it wasn’t evadable forever.

“[Name], can you answer this one?”

You jolt, looking up from your paper where you were “writing” (you just hovered the pen over the paper and moved it about). It was an easy algebra question, so you answered it with ease, albeit quietly. Yaga hummed in approval and moved on. It wasn’t all that bad, you recognize, but the attention is still unnerving.

Shoko nudges your side, “I got a smart girl on my radar it looks like,” she whispers. “You’ll let me copy your notes, right?” She jokes.

You nod instantly, the premise of the joke flying straight over your head. If it’ll keep her around you’ll write her as many notes as need be, you thought. It was the least you could do to repay her kindness!

She giggles quietly, and her laugh was instantly a melody you became enamored with. “I was joking, don’t worry. But you seem smart, born a genius like a certain someone, I presume?” She says coyly and her eyes drift to a particular person one seat down. You force your eyes not to drift in the direction of her finger.

“I usually study in my free time,” You shut down her assumption, you were nowhere near born a genius. “Guess you can say it’s a hobby of mine,” you shrug, whispering alongside her. It was nice, it felt like the two of you were sharing secrets.

“A hobby?” She laughs, shocked and intrigued. “You get more odd by the second.”

Your expression shifts, something she doesn’t hesitate to spot. She lays a hand on your shoulder and rubs it assuringly as she whispers, “No sweat, it’s a good thing. To me, at least. I don’t think I’d be friends with those two idiots otherwise.”

Your face relaxes and she smiles.

“Shoko,” you suddenly speak, surprising the both of you — you the most. Her eyes flit to your own and she sits, awaiting. “Do you like sweet things?” You ask, cupping your hand around your mouth as if that’ll make you any quieter.

Shoko entertains you with a grin and replicates you, hand cupped around her mouth as she leans close to whisper. Her eyes drift over you — if checking you out, something that escapes your notice — before she answers, “I love sweet stuff.”

You seem satisfied with her answer so she shifts her attention back to her notebook. Yaga turns around and her eyes flit between her notes and the board, pretending to be immersed. Though you don’t think she has anyone fooled. You glance at her for a moment more before you do the same and settle for doodling on the empty parts of your notes. Small doodles of Shoko and Geto holding gifts with big smiles on their faces. You subconsciously grin into your hand. You have no clue what either of them prefer but the thought is nice… Maybe you can ask later. Hopefully Geto will have a moment where Gojo isn’t hanging off of him.

You discreetly shuffle your position so you feel comfortable enough to gaze at him. He looks extremely focused, brows slightly furrowed as he taps his pen lightly against the desk, as if afraid to disturb the silent classroom. Your eyes drift a bit to catch a glimpse of his counterpart. A scoff of bewilderment almost involuntarily leaves your lips at the sight of Gojo simply trying to balance a pencil between his nose and the peak of his lip. Even though you have a sudden urge to call him out on his stupidity, this is actually the perfect opportunity to ask what you wanted from Geto without his leering glare, he seems distracted enough.

Yaga is turned towards the board too, voice booming loud enough that if you whispered, he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the sound of himself. It’s insane that you feel so nervous, as if speaking to a classmate during teaching is some sort of crime. But you recall the small doodle of him smiling happily with his gift and persevere.

A small, soft tap breaks Geto out of his reverie. His eyes blink in surprise before his gaze lands on you and your meek, almost guilty expression.

“Do you like sweet stuff?” Your soft voice whispers and he almost laughs aloud. You’re a horrible whisperer, and you’re both extremely lucky that Yaga’s voice echoes, for no one hears you.

He ponders your question for a moment, eyes drifting around your face before they settle back on your eyes. He’s grinning as he says, “Yeah. I like sweet stuff.”

Your visage glows with hope as you turn back to your paper, beaming. Geto’s smile becomes soft.

Brownies it is.

all mine taglist : @kaelisian @tamajoyaki @unsavedandsad @friedstudentflapranch @bomjug @mygarlingelena @phoenix666stuff @mel-star636 @gloobermoober @kallykissr @aichiomei @jaerang @luv-gin @ploylulla @mrowwww @ladytamayolover @tatiishere @kasumitenbaz @autumn-slaves @someoneunknownforyou @rosemary394 @armani78 @lordbugs @decadenthumanalienranch-blog @sokivv @crushed-l1ttle-stars @ichiikoari @okayiamkassandra @cole-silas @kakuchosbff @sugasweettea @suguguro @lacm-ac @irenesolos @redskull199987 @loreleis-world-blog @aleirnebulous @asweetblueberry2 @thel0v3hashira143 @prettypei @astral-hydromancy @ran6ia IM SO SORRY FOR THOSE WHO COULDN’T BE PROPERLY TAGGED!!! there’s a shit ton of u so maybe i got some of ur users wrong or i just can’t tag u, if ur one of those ppl plsss let me know so i can fix it. this taglist long asf!!!!!!

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qwimblenorrisstan · 2 months

Text

Missing You | Lucien x Reader

Summary: After coming back home from a long trip to Autumn Court due to his emissary duties, Lucien is exhausted, but still more than willing for whatever touch you’ll give him.

Word Count: ~ 1.3k

Warnings: Lucien’s bad relationship w Eris, smut but like…comfort smut? is that a thing? p in v, sub lulu, yknow

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: I have not been feeding y’all good😔 so here’s a lucien fic since we all know he’s the best character in acotar hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

As the somewhat-official emissary of Night Court, there were things Lucien had to handle.

Such as the impossibly long mission he’d been sent on, an excursion to Autumn, to get reassurances that everything was running smoothly with Eris installed as the newest High Lord following a few recent riots and whatnot. The visit had been…awkward, to say the least, considering how Lucien wasn’t the closest with his elder brother.

Things were getting better between them. Slowly, but surely.

As soon as he was back in Velaris, the report he knew he should go give Rhysand be damned, he stumbled to the door of the home you two had, a simple, but warm and cozy one. Fitting for you, he always thought.

It was late then, he could hear the chirping of the nighttime bugs of Velaris, the birds quietly cawing before settling down. The moon was out tonight, in its waning stage. Clouds aimlessly drifted past in the midnight sky, and as soon as he had taken one step through the dod frame, he felt a small warm form collide with his body as you threw your arms around his neck.

“Gods, I missed you.”

You murmured into his ear, and he smiled softly, arms loosely embracing you back. And then he was suddenly all too aware of the grime and sweat soaking him from the journey home, the sleepless nights, and his anxieties.

“I know, love, but I need to take a shower.”

He relied in an almost apologetic tone, giving a small kiss on the forehead to you, before pulling out of the embrace even when you whined and pouted at him.

“Alone?”

You asked, giving him a pleading look. He sighed and nodded. Even after being alone in Autumn for so long, he needed time to decompress in a safe space, which was here. As much as you hated separating from him, you mumbled a little “okay” before he left to enter the bathroom.

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

You had seen the exhaustion in his body language, the way his shoulders caved in, weighed down. Or how he hadn’t even noticed the dinner set out on the table, one that you’d specially made for him.

You couldn’t blame him for it, though. He hadn’t known, you told yourself as you slid the food into glass containers for tomorrow, how long you’d spent on it. And you couldn’t bear to be angry at him right now, when he’d been away so long, and had to be around his older brother as well. He’d slowly opened up about the problems between the two of them, the gap that never seemed to fill.

You felt bad for him, truly, but there wasn’t much you could do to comfort him other than give him space and be there when he needed you.

The sounds of the shower started up, water flowing down and hitting the bottom of the tub. Every second of that shower felt like an eternity because even though you knew he needed a little time to himself, you just wanted to hold him impossibly close and feel every inch of him and remember that this was real, that he was here and back.

Still caught up in your thoughts, you put up the now-packaged food and turned the kitchen lights off, walking quietly into your shared bedroom, and slipping your clothes off to don a thin, cotton nightgown. The material was always just lightweight enough to be breathable for your skin.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, before moving under the covers, shuffling around a bit to get comfortable and stretch the tension out of your body.

Not long after, your eyes began feeling heavy as you blinked, and the shower stopped, before Lucien stepped out of the bathroom, a towel hanging loosely around his waist. If the earlier signs that he was tired weren’t enough, the fact that he didn’t even go through with his skincare or haircare routine tonight showed it clearly. He was usually so strict about it, the specific serums and oils, his hair masks and hydration, honestly sometimes it seemed more like he was speaking a different language when he tried to explain it.

But you liked hearing him talk about things he was invested in.

“Luci..”

You mumbled, sitting up slowly and rubbing your eyes. He only barely pulled some boxers on before collapsing into the bed beside you, one arm trying to pull you close. He sighed deeply, inhaling as much of your scent as he could when you moved closer.

“Missed this,”

He mumbled, looking like he was in a daze. Your hands began gently roaming his skin, beginning with his shoulders, rubbing the tension out of them as best as you could. The angle you were at currently wasn’t too great for it, though, so you shifted to where you were almost straddling him, your body lying above his limp one.

“Careful, I’m-“

The words died in his throat as he let out a breathy groan when you hit a particularly stiff spot. You leaned down slightly, letting your lips brush against his jaw, before starting a light trail down his golden-tanned skin. Every little inch of him received your kisses, his biceps, his abdomen, his legs, face, then you were at his inner thigh, gently rubbing the skin as his breathing turned to little pants.

You hooked a finger on the edge of his boxers, slowly tugging them down as you continued your exploration, all the way down to his cock. It was half-hard, and every tiny movement you made anywhere near it made it twitch. Your tongue darted out to give a little lick, at which Lucien whimpered, and then it was throbbing. Your hand snuck up your nightgown, pushing your panties aside as you began slipping fingers in, stretching and rubbing.

“Lulu,”

You cooed softly, a nickname you’d made for him long ago, and even to this day you swore the tips of his ears turned a light shade of pink when you used it. He sniffled, looking down at you with what almost looked like a pout. Sure, you’d seen him submissive before, but never just so utterly defeated and whiny.

“Please.”

He whispered, hips trying and failing to buck up, his body failing him. You gave a little lick again to his length, before you let your fingers slip out of you, and slid up a bit against his body. As soon as he saw your glistening fingers, his mouth was open and inviting, and you didn’t deny him any longer, letting his deft tongue lick and suck the slick from your fingers. His eyes rolled back in his head, growing slightly glazed over with lust.

You shifted a bit more, pulling your fingers away, only to gently wrap that hand around his dick, managing to pull a light gasp out of him from it, as you slowly sunk onto him. He whimpered and groaned, body near trembling as you suffered the slightly painful stretch.

When he was finally, finally all the way in, you let out a ragged sigh of relief, leaning down to lay against his chest, arms folding easily around him. He buried his face in the nook of your shoulder, hips barely able to move other than the tiniest bit of rocking back and forth. It was barely perceptible, but more than enough for the both of you.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you remained like that, hips barely rocking back and forth until you came undone around him with little more than a moan, and he spilled into you with a whimper. Tonight wasn’t the night for hard, demanding sex. Sometimes you both just needed something comfortable and soothing, while both were able to feel each other.

He eventually drifted off to sleep, breathing and falling into a deep rhythm, and you were soon to join him.

#acotar fanfiction #writers on tumblr #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar fluff #acotar smut #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #lucien x you #lucien x y/n #lucien smut #lucien vanserra x reader #just waiting for julesvanslutta to strike again #it’s only a matter of time

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liteyagummy · 1 month

Text

TW: cnc, toxic relationship, overprotective dabi!!mature audience!! dominance, swearing, nsfw !!, fem y/n (no body type specified )

ignore any typos i apologize (kiri update at the end!!)

inspired by the Please Please Please music video by Sabrina Carpenter

a sigh escaped your lips as you tilted your head up looking to your cell mates. it was a friday night around 12 midnight before the club had even started really everything got called off because of a fight at the bar and you’d just so happened to be sitting next to the girls. now all three of you sat in a holding cell

“ Y/LN” you looked to the woman at the outside of the cell “you’ve been bailed out, go up to the man at the window and collect your items.” she said coldly as if she hated her job which.. real.

you stood up a smile tugging your lips a bit as you wave to your ‘new friends’ and left as you walked to the man in the window a blue flash of fire and a wave a heat hitting your eyes and body at the same time passing you in cuffs there he was.. a man in black grunge clothing, the smell of charred cotton with a hint of burned leather, strangely it wasn’t an unpleasant scent to touch both lock eyes

as he walks the officer has him in cuffs “ okay dabi make this easy for me.” the cop said as he walked the male past

dabi winked at you after looking you up and down almost undressing you with his eyes in just those few seconds you blushed “dabi…?” your mind seemed to take note of that name all on its own as you grabbed your items and ran to your best friend excitedly “ did you see that guy??” you whispered

momo perked up as she saw her friend was perfectly fine “ well, im not to sure the prison cells are the best place to find your forever husband y/n..” she guided her friend out faster seeing as the cops might have a problem with how she parked..

you tumbled to Yaoyorozu’s car and got in thanking her for bailing you out in the midst of explaining the whole night to her, you snapped your seatbelt on as she drove to your place you look out the window thinking for a minute.. you should’ve stayed and tried to fight out at least what were his charges..” you huffed “his name was dabi i think.. or at least that’s what the cop said momo side eyed you as the car came up on a red light

“as in.. Dabi- Touya Todoroki??” she raised a brow “y/n- that guys a villain one of the worst out there he works with-“ she shook her head “ he works with the league do you know how many times UA had to fight that guy” she face plamed but all you could understand was she knew who his was, his full name even you smiled “Touya”you whisper under your breath

as Yaoyorozu dropped you off you hugged her “i’ll text you okay? i’m gonna completely make up for this” you said as you got out and yaoyorozu knew you would that’s why she didn’t really have a problem with bailing you out only your safety was her concern, after a bit more longer of the goodbyes she drove off as you went in the house and locked the doors

you groaned going straight to your shower and starting off ending the night

as the morning light beamed through your bedroom you sat up rubbing your eyes and rolling over to check your phones notifications, you see toga had texted back.. see you never went to UA nor did you ever want to be a hero so you didn’t really choose sides when it came down to it.. you had friends on both sides but would never do anything to betray anyone

you had texted her last night before you hit your bed and passed out.. it all worked out because she replied the next morning anyways you texted back as you were gonna start getting ready then asked for the address, as you turned your phone off you got up and got ready for your day you came out in your pretty outfit fitting your aesthetic perfectly again 2-0

you walked to grab your car keys and wallet checking your phone and being curious about not having the address yet after all that time.. “damn toga, i didn’t pin you to be a bad texter” you mumbled as there was a knock at the door

walking to the door you hear two voices.. you open it confusedly “ hi y/n!” a familiar pink cheeked face hugged you, she hugged directly into your chest laying her head on your tits “ wish i had some this big” she pouted, as she started to think about how they would look with a few drops of blood on them

you knew that look, you grew to have to watch out for it when with toga, you snapped your fingers a few times “ toga don’t even go there” you reminded she pouted “fine..” she huffed “i brought dabi along with me since you seemed to want to figure something out about him?

“HUH??” you said not expecting to see the taller male step through your doorway “ and by brought me with her she means she had no other ride.”

toga looked to dabi slowly “ho is you coo?”

toga shook her head and sighed “ while that’s true, y/n also was asking about you last night so it just seemed to fit y’know??” she shrugged as she looked around “ oh wow y/n!” she said as she gave herself a tour of your home, you weren’t too worried about her no your attention was to the man infront of you slowly closing your door “is that so..“ dabi mumbled but you caught it

“w-“ you paused “ not really i was just- curious about.. um- the.. jail.. mates?” you tried to lie and horribly failed

he chuckled “well if you’re that interested i can tell you all about the interesting people i met in Solitary confinement.”

“as.. FUN as that sounds- we’re doing a girl day dabi so either put on this cute matching bow i got the three of us or kick rocks” toga said as she came back interrupting the conversation and holding up a pretty crimson red bow it matched her outfit meanwhile it stuck out like a sore thumb on dabi

you snickered as you took the bow “ yeahhh wear the pretty bow” you said as you clipped yours in your hair and waited for dabi to take his, he rolled his eyes

“im not wearing a bow.” he said bluntly as he put his arm behind his head rubbing the back of his neck “especially not red.” he shook his head

toga scoffed as she put it on his head he tried pushing her hands but she was far too quick and before he knew it he had a little clip bow in his hair , he raised his hand to incinerate it but toga stared at him as he did

you just watched all of this go down and shook your head holding your phone up and snapping a picture “might aswell wear it all day, we already have picture proof that it happened “ you shook your phone and he groaned loudly “can we just go.” he said as he opened and walked out the door he had JUST closed going to his car as toga followed along skipping “ y/n you can get in the front!!”

you nodded as you locked your door and went to get in the front “ can we stop by the address i sent you” she told dabi as she laid down in the backseat waiting for the car to move, he rolled his eyes and pulled off being the reckless driver he was there was a few.. concerns but you kept them to yourself.. but dabi must’ve picked up on the nervous feeling because he started to ease up with the lane switches and speeding

as they arrived to the place where toga wanted to go, she smiled and hopped right out, it was a house.. strange you didn’t get out because who the fucks house was this? were you even supposed to get out..

toga went and knocked on the door, a male opened the door and she happily went inside, hours passed, occasionally you’d see toga in the windy talking to the man- she’d be in different clothes at one point after you’d been waiting hours in the car with dabi.. completely silent

he scoffed starting the car up “ we’re not gonna wait for her to be done with her boy toy.. you hungry?” he asked as you looked at him “starving.” you said dead serious which almost caused him to laugh, he put in somewhere on the gps and started to drive again

a short ride later.. you both arrived at a soba place you thought about it, have you ever had soba?.. you opened your door and got out looking around and stretching “i never want to spend three hours in a still car EVER again” you shook your head

“ so much for your girls day” he said as he closed the car door and locked it and motioned you to walk with him and so you did.. going in you look around the place was pretty busy but nothing too crazy dabi went up and talked with the man that helped with the seating the host then grabbed two menus and walked you and dabi to your booth you weren’t expecting to eat in.. it felt a little more intimate than you’d expected your nerves coming back as you both sat down, you looked at the menu but dabi didn’t he already knew what he wanted he just waited on you.. and as he did he again started undressing you with his eyes, the look he was giving you made your body heat up you hoped you could keep calm “h-“ you cleared your voice as the male worker walked over to take orders, dabi let you go first “i’ll have the chicken soba with a glass of iced tea “ you said as you looked up at the waiter and smiled, he nodded as you looked at you blushing a bit at the sudden warmth you’d emitted “r-right then for you?” he turned to dabi who started to scowl, he noticed that little moment you both had, he closed his eyes keeping his calm “ill have a order of the cold soba.. and a water “ he said and the waiter noticed the differences in energy he was conflicted on how to speak to dabi so he just quickly nodded then walked off to the kitchen

“why were you looking like that to that man” you asked as you put your menu ontop of dabi’s as dabi scoffed “ why were YOU looking like that to him” he let his eyes wonder off as he spoke, this surprised you, you didn’t think you had looked at anyone any type of way but.. who knows-

later on your and dabi’s food had come to the table he was quick to dig in, you shook your head following right after him shame on toga for leaving you guys like that.. she still hadn’t called or texted you both would’ve been skeletons by now

you finish your food minutes after dabi and get your wallet “ you’re good” he looked at your hands reaching for your wallet as he stood up “ come on” he motioned for u to follow.. you were confused but did

dabi went to the back of the restaurant deeply into hidden halls as he held you close you were so wrapped up in the fact that dabi was holding onto you.. it clouded your mind until you both got into a dark room, the lights flicked on and there was a few other men sitting one sat at a desk the rest sat on couches and stood in the back, it all clicked in your mind after dabi talked to the men for a while “ wai-“ before you could even get out a fight broke out dabi against the seven men you covered your ears and turned towards the door

—end—

well that was four years ago. you thought about that day as you sighed slipping your shoes on and grabbing the car keys, ironically they were the keys to the same car dabi drove when you first went out you walked to the car and gently patted it “ alright let’s go get daddy from work.” you said snarkily to the car getting in and taking a drive rubbing the temples of your head you arrived at the place of work. you parked the car where you normally did and got out sitting on the hood and waiting. waiting for touya todoroki to be released from the prison. you shook your head as he walked out with a smile towards you coming over pulling your hair a bit tilting your head up to him and he kissing your lips “ there you are doll” he smiled as he embraced you into a hug putting his arms around your body loving the feeling

you loved this man. so of course you kissed and hugged back but.. you made sure to tell him “ dabi you need to slow down.. this is the sixth time this month i’ve had to bail you out. why can’t you just- sit down in the house for a while and be with me??” you asked as you walked to the passenger side and tossed him the keys over the car, he got in opening your door from the inside you rolled your eyes already knowing all this was going in one ear and out the air.. the hot head couldn’t be cooped up in the house even if he tried to comply.

you got in and shut your door putting your seatbelt on, he looked in the backseat you were confused by this but he just put his hand on the back of your seat and reversed looking at what he was doing, he then pulled off quickly already speeding then slid his hand down to your inner thigh and resting it there “dabi!! we’re still in the fucking prison parking lot” you hit his arm with a power packed back hand

he didn’t seem to care if they saw him speeding or not “ i got this relax baby” he said as he finally made his way out of the parking lot

“said by the man who just got bailed out of jail.” you mumbled as you crossed your arms and tilted your head back on the head rest he looked to you seeming to have heard you

“y/n stop acting like you don’t know what i’m trying to do” he said with a soft sigh, his tone wasn’t annoyed or angry.. it was more of sympathetic somehow “im trying to get shit together for us to leave this place. clear my paths off cut some ties to me so we can just disappear.” he eyed you you swear you didn’t even know how he was still driving most of his attention stayed on you “ you know how much i need you y/n. how much i’m in love with you shouldn’t even be a fucking question.” he shook his head as he started to move his hand up and down on your thigh “ i’ll make it up to you” he said as he pulled into a parking garage, reaching into the back, grabbing a bag under the backseat carpet and paying to get in, your eyes widened “what do you have me riding around with in this car??” you asked confusedly

“ it’s better if you don’t know” he said as he drove in the parking garage he drove to the top as the sun started to set he sat the seats back and locked the car doors rolling up the windows and turning the air on high, “get in the back” he said you raised a brow but just did as told “why..” you said as the ringing of a belt buckle being undone filled your ears, that sound alone causing you to throb a bit you let out a little whimper as you closed your legs tightly and blushed looking away

“ don’t get all shy now, weren’t you just popping shit up here? questioning my methods” dabi said as he got in the back with you, he kissed on your neck making sure to put some heat behind his lips, your cold body heating up at the hot kisses they burned but it was a nice tingly feeling.. and even if it wasn’t your adrenaline pumped too fast in this moment to feel it you snaked your arms around his neck as he burned your revealing outfit off his blood getting a bit hot knowing that’s what you wore out the house when he was held up at the prison

“dabi i still have to get out the car don’t burn them..!” he looked at you “lower your tone.” he said as he pinned your arms on the door using his other hand he picked up his dick and let it fing out he’d been hard every since he rubbed on your body.. he took his dick and shoved it in your mouth

“mmhn!!~” you gagged a bit the piercings he had gotten on his cock for a punishment specifically for you to feel. you swirled your tongue as you narrowed your beautiful eyes giving dabi head, you missed him so badly as did your body, you couldn’t help but pull out all the stops to earn his praise, he grunted as you did this, his breathing getting a bit louder as he thrusted his hips in face fucking you and loving the squeeze of your throat when you deepthroated his cock he watched saliva drip from your lips to your bouncing tits he sped up his thrusting just to make them bounce out the bra, as they did to be fair the bra you had on wasn’t supportive just more of pretty

you tried pulling your hands out as he started to heat his hands up and you felt it you knew he’d actually burn you if you didn’t listen, that’s why you had marks now a few times gone a little too long, he would always be so apologetic and stop mid fuck if it actually hurt he’d love on your body as gently as he could for the rest of the night and wrap the wound

but tonight it didn’t seem like he was too focused on burning you too much. a dangerous thing to realize

you sucked harder till he pulled out quickly and let your hands go positioning your body where he wanted you, dabi was no weak man no matter how much you gained or lost your body would still be his to throw around and make happy whenever he pleased

he pushed his dick down as he lined up with your pussy not even taking another second to see if he was properly lined up he slammed his dick in, you cried “ i told you can’t take it all like that!!” you moaned out

“and i don’t give a fuck. you’re gonna stretch to me and take” he lifted up leaning forward using the car door to be his brace “whatever the FUCK.” he pulled back “ i give you!” he shouted as he pounded your pussy no spot left on your walls unpressed or unfucked he made your eyes water and swell with tears with how good it felt

“fuck i swear you’ve gotten tighter.. it’s only been a fucking month!” he fucked you harder with each sentence you just wanted him to stop talking so you could adjust to the speed for a second but you knew he wouldn’t let that happen

he smiled as he leaned forward “what’s my name?” he kissed on your tits putting his head between them using his now free hand to rub and pinch your nipple you tightly closed your eyes as the tears rolled down your cheek”i-it’s touya!~”

dabi slammed harder into you you almost felt him pushing into your womb as you screamed out the windows on the car fogging up “ it’s daddy!!! please not there!!!!~” you begged as your hips said otherwise you fucked dabi back missing the curves of his cock the piercings dragging along inside of you for extra pleasure you couldn’t take it “ dabi stop!!” you cried

“i bet that’s what you moaned when you fucked yourself with that dildo you hid.. or that vibrator you love so much. trying to make it take my fucking place. you think i don’t have cameras at the house?? i’m always watching you baby~” he bit on your nipple softly as you clenched your pussy more on his dick pulling him closer with your legs “ oh daddy!! it could n-never take your place” you whimpered out

you let his fuck his anger, stress and both of your worries into you he’d release it into his cum his kids filling you repeatedly as you bloated you came multiple times on his dick aswell your legs shaking as you stayed in the same spot panting like a dog needing more as you rub your pussy against his lips while he’s laying on your thighs he looks at what you’re doing and happily pushed your legs open and goes to eat you out you grip his hair and pull him to the spots you need him as he had you hitting new notes you didn’t even know you could, everything just felt so sensitive and blissful his tongue moved faster than a vibrator nothing met comparison to him that’s why when you did have him it was hard to stop, he felt the exact same. what with you running around all the time with friends and handling whatever business called for you that day. he hated when you were torn from his arms.. he vowed as he kissed up your cummy pussy “ i’ll be more careful.. i’ll try at least. so i can make it home to you.. and this cum bucket of a pussy” he slapped it and you let a gasp out

you hope he stays true to his word

—part 1– the end

⭐️kiri part 2 will be posted within the next two days!! ⭐️

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withoutyouimsaskia · 7 months

Text

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)

GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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

The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.

Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.

They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.

And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.

One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:

Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.

At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.

The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.

A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.

The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.

For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.

Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.

If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.

This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.

Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.

From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.

You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.

You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.

You dream.

The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.

One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.

You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.

Everything changes.

Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.

You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.

The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.

His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.

You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.

The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.

You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.

All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.

It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.

You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.

It keeps you on display.

Just like the statues to your left.

You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.

You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.

Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.

It does nothing.

You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.

"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.

A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.

"Let go."

You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.

The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.

Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.

That was obscene.

The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.

There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.

You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.

You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.

But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.

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

Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.

It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.

The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.

Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.

He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.

Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.

"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.

His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."

You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.

You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.

Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."

You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."

"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"

"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."

While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.

"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."

The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.

"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"

It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."

"Excuse me?"

You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.

The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.

His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."

He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.

"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."

You turn towards the door.

He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.

Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"

The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."

He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.

You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.

He reaches for your hand.

You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.

You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.

You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.

"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."

You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.

You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.

You welcome him.

It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.

"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.

You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.

He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.

Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.

He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.

His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

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

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt

"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."

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gimmethatagustd · 1 year

Text

what the fire gave us (1) | jjk

You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

🔥 pairing: shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

🔥 part of a spring offering collab

🔥 wc/date: 9.7k | june 2023

🔥 warnings: major character death (doesn't occur until part 2 but i'm being nice by warning you now; not jk or reader), minor character death, referenced past murder, smut (doesn't occur until part 2), unrequited love (not between reader & jk), reference to human experimentation (nothing is described in detail), persecution of supernatural people, mentions past war, blood, injuries/violence, they all definitely have ptsd, jungkook is a precious baby boy but he'll also kick your ass, JESSI !!!!!! JESSI STANS RISE UP !! JESSI IS THE COMEDIC RELIEF !!! (at least, i find her funny)

🔥 notes: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE WARNINGS. there is heavy angst, particularly in part 2. i hope that you enjoy this story, even with its cuts and bruises. think of it as stranger things meets avatar the last airbender 😂

🔥 more notes: i was supposed to finish this fic in may lmfao but y'all should know by now that there's no point in trusting me to do what i'm supposed to do. i'm sorry but i will probably never change 😭 ANYWAY. this fic is gonna be over 20k, so i decided to upload it in two parts in an attempt to maintain my sanity cuz this website is trash about handling long posts. i'm almost done with part 2, so it should be uploaded within a week (i swear to GOD i mean it). also, if you follow me on AO3 you'll see that i'm posting this fic in multiple chapters. that's cuz i like the formatting of AO3 chapters better than tumblr. the formatting fits the story better, too.

🔥 main masterlist / part two

🔥 what was jai listening to? cyberpunk - ateez

moodboard credit: @btscontentenjoyer

3 MONTHS

Lookout duty is hard on you. When it’s your turn to camp out on the roof and watch for potential threats, you complain that staying awake all night is hard. Most of the other runaways are night owls, but you aren’t. You need your beauty sleep, you joke. You can’t get comfortable on the roof, even if there’s a flat landing with pillows and blankets to keep you warm.

These are a few of your excuses, but you can’t bring yourself to tell the others the truth: you are scared.

It’s close to midnight when you hear the creak of the trapdoor opening. The likelihood of it being anyone other than the group of Gifted runaways you live with is low, but you can’t trust that the impossible wouldn’t happen. You’ve seen the impossible happen far too often.

Hopping down from the old milk crate you’d been sitting on, you crouch behind a giant bean bag with your bow and arrow ready. The harness you wear strapped around your torso holds your spare arrows. It digs hard enough into your shoulder that you form blisters if you don’t wear a thick enough shirt.

The fluffy pink hair poking out of the trapdoor makes you sigh in relief.

“Hey, kid,” the pink-haired man whispers.

He gently closes the trapdoor and walks with a hunched back toward you, careful not to expose too much of his body beyond the roof’s railing. The abandoned warehouse you live in is on the city's outskirts, with nothing for miles but empty concrete parking lots and overgrown plots of land.

Still, you never know who might be out there. Although the Red Pins have only inflicted pain from within their research facilities, all the runaway Gifteds know that the government employs more than one type of evil to hunt them down.

You try not to think about them, those scientists in long white coats that fall to their thighs and blood-red nametags pinned to their labels with names you often see painted on the walls of your nightmares. Lately, the frequency of the nightmares has lessened. It doesn’t feel like it, though, when you often wake in the middle of the night to your friends screaming in their sleep while they suffer through their own trauma. You wish the knowledge that the pain of being government lab rats is something you all share could be comforting. But, instead, it only makes you hurt more.

“Yoongi,” you huff, returning to your perch on the milk crate. Now your hands are all sweaty. “You should be sleeping.”

“Hi, Yoongi; nice to see you too! Thanks for coming to hang out with me!” Yoongi mocks your voice, clearly stating what he thinks you should have said. “Oh, no problem, Y/N. I just wanted to see how you were doing and hang out with my favorite kiddo.”

You scrunch your nose at kiddo.

“I’m not a kid.”

Yoongi leans over to rub his knuckles into your head. “Nah, you definitely are.”

Despite the lack of lighting outside, Yoongi practically glows. That’s always how it is with fire elementals. It’s like they absorb all the light and let it buzz inside them. Like fireflies, you’d once told Yoongi. He hadn’t found it cute to be compared to a bug.

“If I’m a firefly, then you’re a fucking fish,” he’d teased. You’d promptly summoned water from a nearby puddle to throw in his face.

For as long as you can remember, that’s how it has been between the two of you: fire and water. A push and pull. So different that you need each other to be whole.

You watch Yoongi get comfortable in the bean bag, his skinny limbs spreading like a starfish and his eyes lifting to the sky. In quiet moments like this, you would give anything to hold him. And not out of fear like you had when the scary men came to take you away from your parents. And not out of anger like you had to when you stopped him from blowing up the research facility they’d held you in.

No, you want to hold him and for it to be gentle, soft, and peaceful.

Like now, when the world is silent except for the crickets calling to each other in the weeds and the rustle of wind in the trees.

But he thinks you’re just a kid.

You’re not that much younger than him. But, if you put in the effort to look at your relationship objectively, you’d see that Yoongi’s paternal nature comes out with you and the other runaway Gifteds. He cares for you as an older brother would.

It’s not enough for you, though. It will never be enough.

“Is everyone else asleep?” You rest your elbows on your knees and hold your chin in your hand. When you speak, you look out at the empty field.

“Hobi sneezed and blasted a hole through the bathroom wall,” Yoongi says with a low chuckle. “So me and Joon found some supplies to patch it up the best we could. I think they’re all asleep now, though.”

“How is it Hobi’s the one breaking shit and Namjoon’s fixing it?” You press your hand against your mouth to muffle the ugly snort bursting from you. There’s very little to find funny in this life, so you cherish how your chest burns with fond warmth.

“The world’s all backwards.” Yoongi’s gummy smile lights up the night and tears into your heart.

The two of you fall silent once again. Moving slowly, you reach out to hook your pinky finger with Yoongi’s, a small smile forming when you feel his pinky wrap tightly around yours.

“Where are we gonna go, Yoong?”

He watches you with eyes heavy with sleep, determined to stay up with you even though he doesn’t need to. Initially, you thought it was because he wanted to keep you company. Now, you often wonder if it’s because Yoongi is afraid to sleep, too. He never speaks about his experience at the Labs; the other runaways have learned the hard way not to ask. Singed eyebrows don’t look good on anyone.

“I don’t know.”

You already knew this would be the answer, but it scares you anyway. Yoongi always knows everything.

Yoongi lets go of your hand to sit up in the bean bag.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers. He gently presses his palm to your jaw, cupping your face. You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch in your throat. “As long as we’re together, you don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?”

You stare at him for a long time, searching the bags under his eyes and the worry lines on his forehead.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

3 MONTHS, 1 WEEK

There’s a stream that cuts through the overgrown fields behind the warehouse. It’s man-made, flowing from a sewer tunnel beneath the cracked parking lot - and likely from somewhere else, perhaps connected to a lake beyond the woods at the property's edge. The separation between industrialization and the natural world of the unknown hurts your heart. You’d never felt longing until you found yourself inside a cage of cinderblock walls and concrete floors.

A rope of water whips across your face, drawing you from your thoughts of the woods. It’s muddy and makes your skin and clothes smell sour.

Though the air is still crisp and bites at the tip of your nose, spring came early this year. It takes minimal effort for Namjoon to draw more water from the soiled stream as it’s not frozen over like it should be. With a flick of his wrist, another rope of water hits you, this time across your chest.

“Aghh!”

“Pay attention.”

You lift your arm in enough time to block his next assault. The liquid rope freezes in the air before shattering into a thousand glimmering pieces, scattering jagged ice across the pale yellow grass.

“I’m tired of this, Grandpa.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the pop culture reference; you’re pleased he understood. Posed to speak, mouth already opening, he barely gets a sound out before another voice bellows across the field.

“WELL, THAT’S TOO DAMN BAD!”

Hoseok isn’t afraid to be loud. He smiles, all teeth and pink tongue, and throws his head back as he cackles. Everywhere he goes, he carries the smell of spring with him - cherry blossoms and morning dew that makes newly-grown pieces of grass stick wet against ankles.

You close your eyes and let spring overpower the sour smell of sewer water Namjoon has thrown at you for the past hour. It lets you forget how your skin aches with welts and bruises.

As Hoseok bounds toward you and Namjoon, a dark tornado spins beside him. When he gets closer, you can see Hoseok occasionally blowing a small gust of air toward the tornado. It appears to be made of smoke, a gradient of grays and blacks.

“Look at this,” your friend announces with a mischievous grin. “Me and JK learned a new trick.”

With a quick snap of Hoseok’s fingers, you and Namjoon watch in patient silence as the tornado begins to slow its speed. Almost gently, the smoke curls tighter and tighter until the darkness turns into a solid mass.

Jungkook stumbles a few times as he attempts to get his footing. His limbs continue to propel his body into a small spin.

Hoseok quickly reaches out to grab the younger man. Secure hands squeeze his shoulders, and then it’s only Jungkook’s head lolling about.

“Cool, right?” Jungkook’s voice is gruff, but his lips curl into a weak smile.

Namjoon lets out a long sigh. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Although Namjoon is right, Jungkook does look like the effort of his little party trick took a toll on his body; you can’t help but match his smile. Especially when his eyes flick toward yours. You told his gaze for half a second before Jungkook quickly looks away. His cheeks flush pink, but you’re sure it’s from the exertion of all that spinning.

“I think it’s really cool,” you praise the two while elbowing Namjoon in the ribs. With a grumble, your sparring partner returns to his previous stance a few feet away.

“We should go again. Just for a little while longer.”

Every muscle in your body feels stiff when you turn away from Hoseok and Jungkook.

“I hurt all over, Joonie.”

“Let her rest!” Hoseok adds to your whining. “All we ever do is practice fighting.”

“Sparring.”

Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at the younger man. “Whatever you want to call it. I find it to be fri-”

You stifle a laugh by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as Hoseok is tackled to the ground by Jungkook. The two men roll around, all arms and legs, kicking up dead grass and dirt. A lot of howling and teasing laughter rings through the open air.

It isn’t until Jungkook is launched into the sky by a gust of wind you know comes from Hoseok, and lands roughly on his back, that the playful fight ceases. How Jungkook lands knocks all the air out of his chest, but he laughs once his lungs start working again.

“Ridiculous, all of you.” Hoseok brushes grass from his clothes. It’s futile; they’re dirty and ragged anyway. Try as you and Namjoon might to use your Gifts to clean the clothes; water does little when there’s no soap.

“I let you win,” Jungkook teases.

Still, he stands a bit further from Hoseok than he had previously. Not far enough for anyone to notice, aside from you. You notice although you don’t mean to. It’s hard not to when Jungkook keeps stealing glances, only to look away when you try to return his gaze.

“You did not.”

“Did, too.” His insistence makes you giggle.

“And how did that work out for you? Hmm? How does your back feel? I know you landed on that rock.”

“I-It, it doesn’t hurt.” Jungkook glances your way. His cheeks are still pink. “Would take more than that to hurt me.”

“Jungkook is impossible to beat.”

You startle at the gentle voice, spinning on your heels to see Yoongi approaching the group. He’s got a leather satchel strapped across his chest and resting at his hip. It bulges with what you assume are plants and fruits scavenged from the woods.

“Boy Scouts” is what Yoongi offered when you asked how he knew so much about surviving in nature. It was peculiar; nothing about Yoongi seemed like the type. He’s tougher, more steel than wood or earth. A bulletproof shield, you think. Broad and strong.

“Impossible?”

Your question is meant to be a tease, but Yoongi’s face remains stoic. Such a severe look only reveals itself when he assumes his position as your misfit group’s leader. It would be extremely attractive if it didn’t scare you.

“How can you fight shadows?” Yoongi deadpans. He stares into your eyes long enough to make your face feel hot, but you don’t look away.

“I…”

Yoongi hums at your lack of an answer. Suddenly, you feel unbelievably small.

“It’s not impossible,” Jungkook whispers. His head hangs low, long bangs hiding his face. The rest of his hair is tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. “I’m just as beatable as you, hyung.”

Something about Yoongi’s expression softens at the honorific. Formalities died long ago, along with many other traditions that once made Korea what it was. So many things died during the war - tangible and cultural - lives and ways of being. Now, the Republic is something you know your friends no longer recognize. Although it is not your home country, your heart aches for what it once was - something you will never have the privilege to experience because you arrived during the Restoration of the Republic - a fallacy of an era since the country was never restored to how it was.

That may be best. It is easier to mourn the loss of something you never knew.

In moments like this, you feel terribly inadequate - when you speak with broken Korean or struggle to understand the foreign politics behind why Gifteds are hunted, no matter how many times Namjoon patiently attempts to teach you. All you know is that, at least here, to be Gifted is not a death sentence, per se. Other countries’ governments have been far less lenient with their mutant population.

You’re simply seen as a science experiment to be tested on, poked and prodded, pushed until you’re driven mad, and then warped into whatever shape the government has the need for.

“You have no match,” Yoongi smiles softly at Jungkook with a shake of his head. “I do.”

Holding out his hand, a small flame appears in the center of Yoongi’s palm. It floats just above the skin, though he isn’t burned. You’ve seen Yoongi summon fire a million times from the heat of the air around him, and he never ceases to amaze you.

With a nod in Namjoon’s direction, Yoongi waits for a small rope of dirty water to splash against his hand. Namjoon is much kinder in his attack against Yoongi, only summoning enough water to extinguish the flame.

“Water will always win against me,” Yoongi admits. This time, he holds your gaze when he speaks. “It is my match.”

You feel something stir in your belly that migrates up your chest until it eventually threatens to suffocate you, nearly getting lodged in your throat.

“You would do well to continue sparring with Namjoon,” he says after a moment before turning to Hoseok and Jungkook, who have otherwise been silent.

It’s an order, even if Yoongi is gentle with his words.

With a sigh, you turn back to Namjoon. It’s difficult to stamp down the heat Yoongi always manages to trigger inside of you. You would compare him to fire even if it didn’t already run in his veins.

Drawing from the murky stream, you weave a ball of water between your palms.

“Let’s go again.”

While you spar with Namjoon, Yoongi leads Hoseok and Jungkook to the other end of the field.

You and Namjoon spar as though you are dancing. It’s a push and pull, your rhythms falling into harmony, even when one of you performs a surprise attack or a new move that hasn’t been practiced before. Perhaps it is because you both fight with water. There is a fluidity to it that the others don’t possess.

Occasionally, your eyes stray to where Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook have begun to spar. The three men do not dance. Instead, they are a fury of elements intertwining in chaos. The wind snuffs fire, Yoongi and Hoseok blasting each other incessantly. Shadows allow Jungkook to disappear before being hit by an attack, only to reappear right behind his opponent to go in for the kill.

And it would be a kill if this was real. You know Jungkook keeps a rather terrifying knife strapped to his thigh. You all carry weapons, though you don’t really need them. Even Jungkook, with a Gift that’s misunderstood and exceptionally rare, is never found without his weapon.

Out of all the Gifteds you’ve met on your way to safety, you have never encountered another who can manipulate shadows. So, there is truth to Yoongi’s statement.

Jungkook is terrifying, even with the wide, starry eyes he always seems to stare at you with. He’s quiet and shy, typically sticking to Hoseok. You assume it’s likely because you found the two of them together. Both were kept in the same room at the research facility in Busan. As unassuming as Jungkook may be, you’ve seen him manipulate shadows to wrap around a Red Pin’s neck. Those shadows twisted and tightened until the man crumpled.

You didn’t need to have the Gift of blood manipulation to know when his heart stopped.

It was one of the scariest moments of your life, even beyond the suffering you’d endured having lived in the research facilities since you were a teen. Before then, you’d never seen someone die. Even when Yoongi and Namjoon helped you escape, they shielded you from the worst of it. It wasn’t until the three of you came upon the newest facility that such horrors were unleashed.

Jungkook hates himself for it. You know he does; you typically make your bed beside his, and he cries in his sleep. Self-defense protects the body in the moment, but harms the mind and heart long-term.

You probably would have done the same.

For as tragic as his story is - or what little you know of it - Jungkook has an undeniably beautiful soul. Those horrors have yet to turn him cruel or his heart black. Even when he spars, you can tell that he’s being gentle. He holds back and doesn’t reach his full potential out of fear of hurting others, you’re sure. You can see it in how he bounces on the balls of his feet to keep his movements light and how his back muscles ripple beneath his shirt as it clings to his skin. A bead of sweat runs along his neck, over the vein that bulges from his exerting effort.

Something prickles under your skin. When you look up, it’s into those wide eyes full of galaxies you’ll never understand, are somehow okay with not understanding if it means you can continue to gaze upon them.

A small smile pulls the corners of Jungkook’s mouth up. His expression is short-lived, though, quickly falling as a bright orange flame licks at his ankles.

“Don’t let my words get to your head, Jeon,” Yoongi teases. “Impossible to beat, but easy to hurt.”

This time, you catch Yoongi’s eye. You duck your head when he winks at you, just in time to block another blast of water from Namjoon.

“Why is everyone so off today?” Namjoon grumbles to himself. You haven’t managed to successfully hit him even once.

“I’m tired,” you whine again, dropping a ball of water to the ground. Dead grass quickly soaks it up once it splashes. “We should check on Jessi.”

Your group's sixth and final member is tucked away in the corner of the warehouse on the top floor. It’s dark up there, though Yoongi’s everlasting fire, paired with the windows Jessi managed to open, gives enough light for her to work.

She has black grease smudged on her left cheek and across her forehead. Her long, thick hair is tied back into a ponytail, though strands have fallen out to frame her face. When you step closer, you hear her muttering, but you can’t make out what she’s saying. It’s not for you. She speaks, facing the black box placed in front of where she kneels on the floor. The floor can’t feel good on her knees with its bits of broken concrete and dirt. Everything hurts in this life; it hardly matters as long as you’re here and not there.

“This piece of shit,” Jessi hisses, running her hands across her face. It smears more grease onto her skin, but she doesn’t care.

“Not working?”

“Beep beep boop beeping all over the fucking place, then static. White noise and shit. Like it’s telling me to fuck off even though I’m the one fixing it.”

You hum, crouching down to stare at the box. It’s an old radio meant to transport messages back and forth. Perhaps left behind by the military after it had occupied this land while it bulldozed the vigilantes seeking to save Gifteds from the fate you all ended up sharing anyway.

Jessi tweaks a few exposed wires. Every time they spark, you flinch. Mini white lightning, it’s deadly for anyone but Jessi. She grumbles and continues her work with deft fingers calloused from toiling away at the stupid thing for months.

“I’m normally so fucking good at this, I swear to God.”

Frustration colors her tone, even if her expression and cursing didn’t already give her feelings away.

You don’t doubt her, though, and you tell her as much. Still, you know firsthand that it sucks when your powers don’t work how you want them to. As a technopath, fixing the radio should be easy work for her.

“There must be something wrong with it… Maybe the Red Pins did something to it?”

You don’t know anything about technology. Even with the phone you’d stolen off one of the Red Pins, all you’d gotten to do was look at TikTok and try to find out where your parents were before Yoongi made you destroy the device. The government had ways to track you. Technology was as much your friend as a stranger on the street.

With a sigh, Jessi leans back until she’s sitting flat on the grimy floor.

“Maybe? Fuck if I know. I think I’m getting close, though. I’m getting some frequency when I concentrate really hard, but I wanna fix it so it’ll work even without me.”

Your friend whispers the end of her statement. It goes without saying; each one of you knows the fragility of life on the run.

“Thank you for working so hard.” Even in the dim lighting, you can see her watery eyes shine. It hurts your heart, but all you can offer is a light squeeze of her shoulder.

Jessi shrugs. “It’s as much for me as it is for you.”

You watch her stand and brush the dirt from her butt, her joints cracking from sitting down too long. When you first joined this mutant crew, you would have followed behind Jessi to comfort her. But, after months of running and fighting, you’ve learned that sometimes solitude is the best healing method.

4 MONTHS, 2 DAYS

“What makes you think you’re ready? That any of us are ready?”

Yoongi watches you with catlike eyes from where he sits at the kitchen table. The chairs circled around the battered wooden table are mismatched and in varying stages of deterioration from being abandoned for so long. The one Yoongi sits in is metal, and he leans on its two back legs, his right foot pressed to the floor to keep himself steady and his arms crossed against his chest.

Although Yoongi isn’t raising his voice - he never does - you still feel like you’re being scolded.

“I know we are,” you challenge him. Your voice is steady even as your fingers tremble. To stop them from shaking, you squeeze your hands into a fist, nails biting at the skin of your palms.

You should sit down, but holding your energy in is hard. Instead, you pace the kitchen while Yoongi’s cat eyes and Jessi’s wide ones follow you. You feel like a lion looping its cage, the desire to run restricted and confined.

“How?”

“We can’t stay here, Yoong! We can’t. I can’t.”

The front legs of Yoongi’s chair slam into the concrete floor. He allows the momentum to pull him forward, landing his elbows on the table’s surface.

Looking at Yoongi hurts. You can tell from his face that the next thing he says won’t be pleasant. His lips are pressed into a fine line that curves downward slightly. It’s cute how he can pull off a straight-lipped frown, but not when it’s directed at you.

It’s been at least an hour of back and forth between the three of you. Jessi tapped out a long time ago, resolved to watch the tennis match of an argument between you and Yoongi rather than exert energy on a fight she isn’t committed to. Yoongi and Jessi have the final say in all group decisions as the group's elders. It’s another reminder of how you think Yoongi sees you as someone to take care of rather than an equal.

“Have you ever killed someone before, Y/N?”

You pause your pacing to stand in front of the table. Yoongi is an exceptional cook, managing to create delicious meals out of what little you all have to work with from the forest. But now, at this moment, you feel like you’re going to be sick from the food churning in your stomach.

“No.”

“No,” Yoongi repeats. He speaks slowly, like he’s mulling your answer over, letting it twist around his tongue until he’s satisfied enough with its taste to swallow it down.

Leaning forward, Yoongi presses his palms against the table’s surface. He spreads his fingers and stares at them. The two of you seem to trace over the scars that line his skin, little nicks, and slices that healed light pink or blazing white. You’ve never seen Yoongi naked, but you have seen a good expanse of his body when you’ve used your Gift to help the others get clean. From what you’ve seen, you know Yoongi’s entire body is littered with battle scars.

“I have,” he admits what you already knew, and the gravelly sound of his voice makes you shudder. “Jungkook has.”

You wince at the mention of the younger man, but Yoongi doesn’t give you a chance to speak.

“Do you want to ask him what it’s like to squeeze the life out of another man? He may have done it with shadows, but I guarantee he still felt it in his hands.”

Yoongi lifts his eyes to yours when the first tear rolls down your cheek. Concern wrinkles his forehead.

“Yoongi,” you start, but the pink-haired man shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to upset you, kiddo.” The pet name twists your gut tighter with frustration - even though Yoongi’s voice is filled with gentle adoration when he calls out to you. “But I’ll be damned if I let us walk into that forest without knowing where we’re going or whose claws we’re running into. The Gifted Commune is, at best, a rumor. At worst - a trap.”

You want to tell him that falling for a rumor or getting caught by the government is better than sitting in a concrete cage. The prospect of finding a community of other Gifted runaways who have managed to create a society safe from the evils you’ve grown up with means more to you than the fear of the unknown.

There’s no use, though. Jessi is nodding along to Yoongi’s words; the blank expression she wears when she’s upset already masks her face.

“I will not put you in a situation where you must kill or be killed, Y/N. I won’t fucking do it.” Yoongi clears his throat suddenly, and he looks away from you. You’re unsure, but think he might be blinking back unshed tears.

You’re still pissed, but now your anger is mixed quite prettily with debilitating guilt. You’ve never seen Yoongi cry, and you realize with a sinking feeling that you really don’t want to.

“It’s too fucking risky,” Jessi finally speaks. She presses her fingers against her forehead, massaging it slowly as she, too, looks for words. “The radio is almost fixed; I can feel that it’s close. Then we will have a clearer line of communication with the Commune. It doesn’t guarantee anything, obviously, but it’s better than going in without fucking knowing anything.”

There’s nothing else to say. Yoongi doesn’t look at you or Jessi, instead staring at something in the opposite corner of the room.

Jessi gives you what you think is a smile laced with pity - or at least an apology.

How can everyone be so content to stay in the warehouse? You’re a bunch of sitting ducks, hiding out in the same location for months, practically waiting for the government to send their agents to either corral you into laboratories again or exterminate you. You don’t understand how becoming a moving target is a bad thing.

But, ultimately, you don’t understand why Yoongi can’t just trust you.

With a frustrated huff, you twist around to hurry out of the kitchen. As you cross the threshold, Namjoon appears in the doorway.

“Oh, I need to ask you-”

You don’t mean to shove Namjoon with your shoulder as hard as you do, but you don’t have the patience to comply with whatever he expects you to do for him. Probably more sparring and training.

On the one hand, sharing your identity as a water elemental with someone else in the group is an affirming experience. On the other, it’s infuriating because Namjoon sees your potential and pushes you toward it - even when you fight against him.

Namjoon sputters something, and you hear Jessi convince him to drop it. Whatever else they have to say is lost on you; you’re no longer interested in entertaining the conversations of the “leaders” of the group. Part of you wants to find Hoseok or Jungkook to force them to commiserate with you, but something about dumping your sludge of emotions onto them feels wrong.

So you do what you’ve always done best: you repress.

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re lounging on your makeshift bed with the only tattered book you kept from your facility (Fahrenheit 451, how fitting), that you give yourself over to the gnawing need to interact with other humans.

Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet, items that you can’t make out pressed against his chest.

“Will you cut my hair for me, noona?”

The out-of-use honorific flusters you, making your face burn under Jungkook’s attentive gaze.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me,” you insist, embarrassment ravaging your twisted stomach and fluttering chest. Something about the attention Jungkook gives you makes you feel nervous and giddy.

“It’s not very formal, really. It’s… respectful? I just… You are, it means,” Jungkook lets out a huff. He blows his bangs out of his face as his cheeks turn pink. “You are special to me.”

You duck your head, shocked by Jungkook’s honesty. It warms you in a way you’re not sure you understand, letting the feeling sit inside your chest rather than exploring it any further.

“Where I come from, we don’t have words like that.”

Jungkook gives you a shrug. Neither of you mentions that in Korea, those words don’t really exist anymore, either.

“But, okay,” you relent softly.

Jungkook stands beside the mess of blankets that make up your bed, holding a pair of scissors and electric clippers Jessi enhanced to operate on their own. Jungkook nicked them from a Red Pin on their way out of the research facility he’d grown up in. Hairstyling tools didn’t seem high on your list of items to steal, but they’d come in handy. Like now, with Jungkook’s bangs falling entirely into his eyes and his hair sweeping across his shoulders.

The pout Jungkook wears lessens slightly. He holds out the tools with an expectant look on his face. It’s cute how his bottom lip juts out, pink and chapped from nervously chewing on it. You’d overheard Namjoon scolding him for something earlier that morning before you went outside to patrol the grounds with Hoseok and Jessi.

Taking the items from Jungkook, you lead him out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. The lights sputter briefly before they fully brighten the small room. Jessi was excited to learn that her Gift extended to electricity as a whole, not just that within technology like computers and radios. With all your Gifts combined, the warehouse is liveable, almost comfortable.

Jungkook sits on the closed lid of the toilet, making you tower over him. He parts his legs slightly so you can stand between them as you run your fingers through his hair.

You spread your fingers and sweep his bangs up, exposing his forehead. It opens up his face more and makes him look older. Jungkook is handsome; there’s no denying that. You’re sure in another life, he could have been a regular college kid with a sweet girlfriend and a bright future.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook hums with his eyes closed, and his head tilted back slightly.

You don’t miss how he leans into your touch, completely pliable in your hands, as you massage his scalp and continue to play with his hair. It’s thick and soft, even without the proper haircare products to maintain the health of the follicles.

“How do you want me to cut it, silly?”

You reach for the hairbrush you keep tucked away in the bathroom cabinet. It takes a few more moments of silence while you brush out Jungkook’s waves before he finally speaks.

“Short. Cut it all off, please? It’s too hard to take care of now, and it gets in my face.”

“Don’t get mad at me if it comes out bad.”

Jungkook lets out a frustrated sound. “You always do a great job. You gave Yoongi hyung an undercut. It looks so good!”

At the mention of Yoongi, you feel your heart drop. Somehow you know Jungkook is here to make you feel better even if he hasn’t said anything about the argument, and he’s the one seeking your help, not the other way around. He’s a distraction - one you wonder if Yoongi sent himself.

It isn’t that Yoongi won’t apologize; you just never give him a chance to before you run off to lick your wounds on your own.

It’s the healing quality of solitude, you think as you prepare to cut Jungkook’s hair. However, this time, you’re not alone.

You can’t help but smile when Jungkook starts singing a song of his own creation as chunks of his hair fall to the floor. His song drowns out the static that buzzes in your brain like the fuzziness Jessi’s broken radio emits when anyone but her fiddles with it.

“This way,” you speak softly, not wanting to disrupt his singing as you press your fingertips against his jaw and under his chin to lift his face toward you. Your finger presses against the little mole just below Jungkook’s bottom lip. The angle gives you a better view of your work so far.

A small smile flickers on Jungkook’s face as though he’s trying to keep it down, but the corners of his mouth won’t listen to him.

“It feels nice. We don’t touch.”

You hum and nod your head, but Jungkook’s eyes are still closed. It’s true; kind touches are rare. Hoseok is really the only one who gives out hugs. Everything is tough all the time. There’s little room for gentleness, even amongst friends.

So you understand when Jungkook’s smile wins out, and he finally surrenders to the happiness your light touches along his jaw bring him.

4 MONTHS, 5 DAYS

It takes Yoongi three days to apologize.

Perhaps you should have apologized first, but you struggle to see how you could have done anything that warrants an apology. Yes, you feel bad for upsetting Yoongi, but his attitude toward you lately has rubbed you the wrong way.

During the three days it takes him to apologize to you, he seems to do his best to avoid you.

On the days you’re assigned to go on patrol with Yoongi, Jungkook accompanies you instead. You don’t mind having Jungkook by your side, you discover, even though you’re upset that Yoongi is behaving so childishly.

Neither Jungkook nor Yoongi talks much, but you learn that their silence feels different. Whereas Yoongi’s silence stems from feeling confident and content with not needing to fill the air with incessant babbling, Jungkook’s silence is awkward and heavy. He fiddles with the loose strings of his shirt, his reddened cuticles, and everything else. You don’t mind the awkwardness, though. It’s nice to comb through the woods with someone as powerful as Jungkook; you know there’s nothing to fear with him around.

The only weapon Jungkook carries is the knife strapped to his thigh. You, on the other hand, stay heavily armed. Your fingers tighten around your bow. When you twist your torso, the harness that holds your arrows digs into your shoulder. You also have a knife, though you are honestly afraid of close combat. A gun would be even better, but ammo is difficult to come by. It’s easier to collect your arrows after you’ve shot them, although you haven’t needed to yet. Since finding refuge at the warehouse, no one has discovered your group.

Apparently, all your friends are willing to keep testing fate. You aren’t interested in pushing your luck. Jungkook doesn’t comment on the group’s plans for moving forward - or lack thereof. Something tells you that he’ll do whatever Yoongi and Jessi tell him to do.

Still, going on patrol with Jungkook does a decent job of preventing your thoughts from straying toward your argument with Yoongi. Your hands brushed together a few times as you walked side by side, and you could practically feel Jungkook’s brain shortcircuit from the contact.

Part of you thinks he has a crush on you, but the more logical part of you knows he’s probably shy. The kid has gone through a lot in life. Not everything is always about you; you try to remind yourself. Yoongi doesn’t even want you. Why would Jungkook?

On the third day, bright doe eyes don’t greet you at the edge of the woods, just as the sun is kissing the sky for the first time. Instead, sharp cat eyes hold your gaze when you lightly jog over.

“Good morning, kiddo.”

Yoongi wears dark shorts with tattered edges cut from a pair of old jeans and a plain t-shirt the color of the forest in spring. It’s not warm enough to wear what he’s wearing, but fire elementals run hot like you run cold.

“Hi,” you say, voice a bit stunted as you hold your jacket tighter to your body.

You’ve foregone your bow and arrows today; you may or may not have snapped your bow in a fit of frustration that may or may not have anything to do with Yoongi ignoring you at dinner the night before. A knife and your Gift will have to do, but you feel it is enough. Namjoon insists on learning how to use your Gifts and weapons in tandem. For double the defense, or so he says.

Carrying a knife seems ridiculous when you know how to choke someone with their own spit without touching them.

Once you’re within arm’s reach, Yoongi offers his hand to you. He holds it as though he’s going in for a handshake. Yellow-orange fire licks at his palm and swirls in tendrils around his fingers and wrist.

After a few seconds of silence, he makes a slight grunting sound and wiggles his fingers, beckoning you.

It’s impossible not to cave. A prickly feeling tingles down your arm, beginning somewhere in your chest and eventually settling in your fingertips. A tiny hurricane of water stolen from the moisture in the air circles around your hand just as the fire does Yoongi’s.

He lets out a pleased sound when your palms glide across each other. You hook your thumbs together, using the momentum to spin your hands around until your fingers are interlaced and pressed into your palms. You both squeeze your hands once, twice, three times in a heartbeat before pulling away. By the end, the fire and water have disappeared.

When you meet Yoongi’s eyes, the warmth of the fire in his palm has transferred to his gaze. There is an apology in how you release each other’s hands. The handshake holds secret words of friendship and reassurance between you.

The two of you stand in silence for a bit until Yoongi tilts his head in the direction of the woods. You nod in response and follow Yoongi along one of the many patrol paths your group has established.

There’s never anything in the woods besides small animals like squirrels and rabbits, but everyone feels better knowing there is a consistent patrol of the area, just in case.

“So,” When you look at Yoongi, his lips twist into a light smirk you absolutely do not like. “You and Jungkook.”

“Me and Jungkook what?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Just seems like you two been hanging out a lot.”

“Yeah, because you were fucking ignoring me all week.”

His smirk drops into a stern frown, but Yoongi continues following the path. He walks slightly ahead of you with his hands clasped behind his back. It feels like he’s taking a leisurely stroll through a garden rather than going on patrol in the woods for government assassins.

“It was immature and irresponsible of me, and I’m sorry for that.”

Forgiving Yoongi is too easy. It’s the way the morning sun shines through the canopy of trees above you, casting streaks of light against his fading pink hair. The way he carries himself with confidence is gentle and comforting rather than arrogant or misplaced. It’s how he looks at you; you know he would do anything for you.

“It’s okay,” you finally concede. You scramble a bit to fall in line with Yoongi again. “I was being dramatic.”

“Life is one big drama, isn’t it?” Yoongi muses with a chuckle. It’s a question he doesn’t expect an answer to, which is good, considering you’ve got something else buzzing around in your head.

Well, fuck it. You’re just gonna say it.

Heart pounding, you eventually find it in you to say, “I still think you’re wrong.”

After a moment, Yoongi hums in acknowledgment of your admission but doesn’t offer anything else. It’s better than nothing, so you tell yourself to be content with all that he offers.

“Anyway…” You don’t want to drop the subject, but Yoongi’s question is nagging in the back of your brain now - a nagging question you now have a gnawing desire to know the meaning behind. “Me and Jungkook can hang out without it meaning-”

Before you can finish your statement, Yoongi slaps his hand against your mouth. The calluses on his palms are rough against your chapped lips, and his skin is sweaty. His free arm comes around to the front of your chest near your collarbones. He draws you against his chest so tightly you can’t move.

“Don’t talk.” His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is almost indiscernible.

You give a tiny nod before locking your body completely still. You hold your breath, straining to hear what Yoongi might hear or see what he might see. There’s nothing, just the usual sound of life in the woods - birds chirping, small animals scurrying in the brush. You don’t see anything either.

You can only focus on the frantic pounding of your heart and the calm beat of Yoongi’s against your back. How he can be so relaxed when he thinks there might be danger in the woods that you can’t even see is unreal.

Slowly, Yoongi takes a step back away from you. He holds a finger to his lips and silently mouths for you to stay where you are. Everything inside you screams to disobey as you watch Yoongi disappear further into the woods, the thick trees swallowing him whole.

But you don’t. You stay put, fear rooting you to the ground even though your body desperately wants to follow.

What lies beyond the thicket of trees? What is dangerous enough that Yoongi wants you to stay put but not so dangerous that he believes he can take it on alone?

Just when your resolve is about to crumble, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Barely breathing, you turn your head to watch a dark spot glide across the forest floor. It’s two-dimensional, not an object but a presence creeping along the ground.

Suddenly, the spot grows. It spreads, turning its shape from a flat, uneven circle to a thing with tendrils sticking out of it, each new tendril moving independently. You gasp when one of the tendrils creeps up your leg. Despite being two-dimensional, you can feel the darkness. It’s firm and cold, like a snake slithering up your body.

Every inch of you trembles as the strange darkness slowly spreads across your body. You squeeze your eyes and hold your breath. Perhaps this is the thing that Yoongi saw, a phantom stalking the trees. But now you’re left behind to be absorbed into its darkness, eaten alive.

You’re startled when the cold disappears; instead, strong arms pull you against a firm chest. Warmth envelopes you, and when you open your eyes, you see familiar ones looking back at you.

“I got you,” Jungkook murmurs. He has you tucked under his chin, and he tilts his head down when he speaks to you. You shiver as his lips lightly brush against your forehead.

“Where did you-”

“Shhh.”

Jungkook’s heart isn’t steady like Yoongi’s had been. On the contrary, it’s beating rather furiously. You can hear him attempting to regulate his emotions, taking in mindful breaths and exhaling in a way that tickles your skin.

You don’t know how long you stand there pulled against Jungkook’s chest. After a while, your breathing matches his until you fall into a gentle rhythm that makes you sleepy. The adrenaline is making you crash, your body hardly strong enough to hold yourself up after panicking so severely - still panicking. Luckily, when you lean into Jungkook, his hold on you tightens.

In another situation, pressing your fronts together would have flooded your body with heat. You can feel all of Jungkook like this, from the bulging muscles of his chest to his thigh pressed slightly between your legs from how he holds you up. But fear of the unknown and Jungkook’s clearly distressed state prevent those other thoughts from materializing.

Jungkook’s body doesn’t relax until Yoongi appears around the corner of a large tree. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, and for a second, Yoongi looks around at the clearing you're in as though he can’t see you.

It isn’t until Jungkook lets go of you that recognition flashes in Yoongi’s eyes.

“There you are,” Yoongi murmurs to the two of you. He looks like he rolled around on the ground, little pieces of leaves and sticks caught in his hair and stuck to his clothes. His left knee is bleeding from a few superficial scrapes.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Yoongi looks at Jungkook before he answers your question, which irritates you. “I tripped when I rushed in, but it was nothing. Just a large fox I heard making noise back there.”

A fox is likely the largest animal in the woods, with no bears or wolves in the area. Still, you don’t trust Yoongi. You can pick up on the charred smell coming off of him. He smells like a barbecue, which means only one thing…

“Have you been practicing turning yourself invisible?”

Jungkook ducks his head down but no longer has long bangs to hide his face. It takes a second for your brain to process Yoongi’s question - and the change in the topic - but Jungkook is already answering him by the time you figure it out.

“It’s not really invisibility,” he says softly. “It’s more like… an illusion.”

Yoongi hums and motions for the two of you to start walking. You’re returning to the warehouse, you realize, even though you only just started the patrol route.

“Yeah, I can… adjust the lighting, I guess? To make it seem like you can’t see me. Or, us, this time.”

Jungkook gives you a small smile when you whip around to look at him.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook repeats. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and wiggles it like he has more to say but doesn’t want to let it out just yet.

The three of you walk in silence until you reach the warehouse. When Yoongi walks ahead of you, you can tell he’s limping, even as he does his best to walk normally.

“He’s okay.”

Jungkook stands beside you in the field behind the warehouse, watching Yoongi reach the backdoor.

“He’s bleeding.”

Jungkook’s ears are pink when he responds, “He’ll be okay.”

“He’s lying to us.”

Jungkook absentmindedly runs his fingers along his bottom lip. It droops as he speaks through a pout. “Maybe. But I trust him, even if he is.”

It’s a strange thing to trust someone who is lying.

All you can do is nod. All you can do is accept that the people around you are doing what’s right because, aside from them, there is no one and nothing you can trust in the world.

As you approach the warehouse, Jungkook curls his fingers around your wrist to stop you. He watches you with the same wide-eyed look he gives everyone, though something about this time feels different. His expression is more open and vulnerable. He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to hurt him.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he apologizes softly.

“But you didn’t?”

Your eyebrows crease your forehead, trying to recall what you may have done to make Jungkook feel like you feared him. Sure, his sudden appearance in the woods was startling, but he’d brought you a feeling of comfort and safety - not fear.

Jungkook doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets go of your wrist as shame warms his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away from you. The timidness is still there. You can see it in how he chews on his bottom lip. Still, his eyes take on a more guarded, hardened expression for a split second, and then…

He’s gone.

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself.

Now that you’ve seen the darkness before, your eyes quickly notice the spot on the ground that creeps and grows into odd shapes, slinking along the grass before taking form up your legs, curling around your arms.

It’s Jungkook. You knew it in the woods, somewhere deep down. Your fear for Yoongi’s safety - and your own - prevented you from processing the situation. But now, as the darkness envelopes you again, you know what to expect when you close your eyes and open them to see Jungkook’s broad chest as he crushes you against him.

“You never showed me before.”

Maybe it’s weird that you’re still clinging to each other, but Jungkook is warm and solid, and his heartbeat guides yours into a slower rhythm.

“That’s because it’s creepy.”

“Well, I think it’s cool. Even though, yeah, you kinda scared the shit outta me.”

Jungkook lets out an embarrassed whine and squeezes you tighter. You knew he could command shadows but hadn’t realized he could become one or move within them. Sure, the tornado trick he’d done a few times with Hoseok had been cool, but you’d always thought he was merely swirling the darkness around himself. You hadn’t realized he was the darkness.

Honestly, it made him all the more terrifying and equally as endearing.

“I just had this… feeling something bad was happening…” Jungkook whispers into your hair. “I needed to check.”

“Good thing it was only a fox.”

Jungkook nods in agreement; you know he believes it more than you do.

“I’m just happy you’re safe.” You can feel his cheek press against the top of your head for a moment before he finally releases you.

There’s a feeling there as Jungkook leads you to the warehouse. He laces his fingers with yours, and you can’t help but hear Yoongi’s question on a loop in your head.

You and Jungkook?

4 MONTHS, 3 WEEKS

“What if they think we’re the feds and feed us false information?”

“We’re too stupid to be the feds. It would be obvious.”

“I don’t know… we all escaped the government, so they must be pretty stupid.”

“What if they’re the feds?”

“Shit, I never thought about that.”

“They’re not the fucking feds.”

“How do you know that?!”

“Can all of you please just shut the fuck up?”

The six of you crowd around the radio on the kitchen table. Jessi shows you how to operate it, which flip to switch to activate the microphone, and how to adjust the volume. You’re all muted for now. When Hoseok goes to flip the switch, Jessi smacks his hand out of the way.

“Listen to me,” she says sternly, turning in her seat to get a good look at all of you. “No one talks.”

“But-”

“No one talks.”

Five heads nod at her command, including Yoongi, which feels very satisfying to you for some reason.

Details of the Gifted Commune somewhere beyond the woods traveled by word of mouth. Coordinates and radio frequencies were exchanged in hushed tones between the Gifteds who dared dream of a life beyond the Labs. You’re sad to admit that you were never one of those Gifteds. It wasn’t until Yoongi helped you escape that you even realized escaping was an option, so brainwashed into thinking the Labs were all you had. You were in a new country, stumbling through an unfamiliar language, taken from your family. Sure, you’d learned enough to get by over time - but missing your adolescent years made you feel hopeless.

Jessi is the only one who had communicated with the Commune leaders in the past when she and another Gifted managed to break into a control room in the Labs she came from.

That’s why she’s the one to speak into the radio that you find operates much like a long-distance walkie-talkie. You’re glad it’s not you. She introduces herself, her whereabouts, and her credentials with an even voice you know you could never replicate.

Despite the distrust you’re all afraid of, Jessi’s previous connection to the Commune makes it easy for her to request to speak to the Commune leader, a healer named Kim Taehyung.

Sitting with your fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly your knuckles are beginning to ache, you lean forward as though you can get closer to the gentle voice that floats from the radio’s speakers.

Taehyung doesn’t sound anything like you’d imagined, though you aren’t sure what you were expecting, to be honest. Maybe someone with a rougher voice made harsh by the trials of life as a fugitive of the Republic. Instead, he’s soft as he asks Jessi how many there are of you and what your coordinates are. This man, already larger than life even though none of you knows what he looks like, is patient as he gives Jessi instructions on how to reach the Commune.

“I can assure you,” Taehyung speaks, and you don’t know what he’s about to say, but you find yourself already believing him, “You will be safe here. It won’t be a short trip.” That makes your gut twist, but you focus on his following words. “But there are abandoned shelters along the route to find refuge in. The nights get terribly cold.”

Namjoon scribbles some notes down on a worn piece of paper. It’s been written on and erased to add more notes over the months you’ve been at the warehouse since there are only a few pieces of paper between the six of you. There’s a small hole in the middle of the page where someone erased too hard - or too many times, you suppose.

“Thank you, Taehyung-ssi.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Jessi’s gaze shoots up to glare at Jungkook’s interruption, but Taehyung speaks before she can chastise the younger man.

“Anything for my dongsaeng,” the man on the other side of the radio states.

You don’t know him, so there is no way to tell if the subtle lilt to his voice indicates affection, but it seems like it as the two men use polite terms no one ever uses anymore. It’s old-fashioned and reminiscent of a time lost to all of you.

Jessi steers the conversation back to planning the group’s journey to the Commune. Excitement makes you jittery as you skip out of the kitchen, the men - aside from Yoongi - following after you. The boring stuff is what follows, and you’re all content to let the leaders discuss that stuff.

“Do you think we’ll be able to do it?” Hoseok clasps his hands together, occasionally squeezing them. When he speaks, he keeps his eyes on the closed kitchen door.

Namjoon shrugs at the same time you respond, “We have to.”

PART ONE - PART TWO

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#jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #a spring offering collab #what the fire gave us

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