#no proof reading we die like men

[satoruyes]

co-parent bakugou

katsuki bakugou x reader (part two)

   fwb! bakugou who often came by your dorm during college to drop off school work when you missed lectures and loads when you missed him.

fwb! bakugou who came by before bed to fuck you into your pillow and listen to your hushed moans, hushed so your roommates wouldn’t hear. (they did)

fwb! bakugou who’s scared of committing because he “couldn’t see you in his future” and was too focused on his.

fwb! bakugou who’s late night visits became more and more scarce.

fwb! bakugou who months later soft launches his new partner on his story after telling you he’s not ready for a relationship.

fwb! bakugou who stops breathing at the sight of your name popping up on his phone as he cuddles his partner while watching movies, and nearly has a stroke at the “Im pregnant.” text. 

_____

“well are ya sure it’s mine?” he asks, not daring to look away from you. you break eye contact and look outside the coffee shops’ window to focus on anything other than this conversation you’ve been dreading. “are you serious? you should know i’m not exactly one to sleep around,” you say to the man. he nods and his grip on his mug gets tighter, knuckles visibly whiter. “well, are ya keepin’ it,” he asks, “i don’t think  that’d be a bright idea for either of us.” you kind of glare but think over his words. “you know how my parents feel about abortion kats.. i’d be disowned. the second the press found out about it, my family would be done for,” your eyes start to water and a tear threatens to fall, you pause “.. i thought you said you don’t do relationships?”

katsuki stares at you and shakes his head, “those fuckin’ hormones already getting to your brain or somethin?“ he sighs, “you know i can’t do this *nickname*. i’m in a committed relationship with raya, we’re getting engaged next month. on top of that, i can’t be number one with a baby leechin’ of me.” your heart drops, “you’re.. getting engaged? i.. um.. well, congratulations. i’m sorry to burden you with all of this… and i can’t abort it anyway.. i.. i’m too far along.. and i cant do this.” you finish & get up from the table and leave.

________

baby daddy! bakugou who ends up losing contact with you for months after you block him on everything a refuse to meet up per your family’s request.

baby daddy! bakugou who nearly forgets about you years later til kirishima brings you up and shows him your instagram.

baby daddy! bakugou who gets home and stalks you from a burner account, finds out you still talk to everyone from college but him.

baby daddy! bakugou who sees a pretty little ruby-eyed girl down your timeline, her resemblance to him uncanny.

baby daddy! bakugou who pulls some strings and texts your number asking to meet his daughter, hana. 

___________

hana is 2 years old by now, forming choppy sentences and now waddling on her feet. after a week of texting, you finally fold and let him come over to meet his daughter. when you open the door to let him in he nearly finds himself choking on his spit at how beautiful you are. you looked even better than your posts, if that’s possible. you greeted him with a nod and invited him in. he takes his shoes off and head to the living room you led him to. you exchange stale pleasantries and small talk til you decide to go get your baby girl. “her name is ‘hana lei bakugou,’ as much as i wanted her to have my last name.”

you walk over to him and hand her to him, noticing the wedding band resting around his ring finger. you scoff, “wow so you two actually got married?” he nods and analyzes his daughters’ features. “shes so pretty, just like ‘er momma,” he half smiles and look up at you. “so i’ll have her back later tonight, gonna take ‘er home to meet the wife and all of that.” he goes to get off the couch. “woah, you don’t get to do that. you don’t get to come back back after all this time like nothing happened.” he looks frustrated for a second, “you can’t just- … yea yer right, ‘m sorry.’’

you nod, “how about we go up to her room and play?” he agrees and follows you into his daughter’s bedroom while carrying her.

“So.. how long have you two been in the area?” he asks, scanning his daughter's room. “I never really left, just moved closer to the city i guess,” you reply; putting hana down to the floor. She waddles over to katsuki. “hana, baby this is your father,” you look down at the little girl. At first she looks up at you with her glowing beady eyes then she looks over to Katsuki sitting over on a couch. “papa?” she asks and she points her dainty finger at him. you nod and smile. “yes baby, that's your papa.” 

katsuki looks at the little girl and she reaches up for him. “up.” she says, and he obliges. you two talk and rekindle for what seemed to be days. In reality it was just about 4 hours. “*name* it was really nice to see you again, let's go out for dinner sometime. with hana of course.” you lead him downstairs while he says his goodbyes to hana. 

-- 

“I told ya about this years ago raya, you can't be mad about this. What did you expect? for them to disappear?” bakugou yells at his wife. “well i didnt fucking expect you to go out of your way to to reach out either!” she pouts, anger and jealousy laced in her tone. “I have to own up to this responsibility now whether you like it or not, stop fuckin’ cursin’ at me. ‘m already stressed as is; ‘ion need yer bitchin’.” 

“oh so now i'm bitching because you went out and got some slut pregnant.. you're just full of it katsuki.” raya says, glaring at him now. “ya cant get mad at me because I wanna be a father, ‘nd not just leave some kid stranded out here.” 

“it's not just about the kid is it? do you miss the bitch or something? do you miss the sex? did she give you better head than I do?” raya accuses, bakugou sighs and goes to leave the room, “‘nd yea- she did give better head.” as he walks to their shared room he can hear her still yelling in the distance.

katsuki bakugou goes to sleep confused tonight. He wonders why was he such a prick. he wonders why did his heart pound so fast- why were his hands so sweaty when he saw you.

he couldn't do this. he has a wife. hes happily married, regardless of any arguments. his wife was the mayors daughter and promised him various things, she promised him glory. of course he didn't need her but it's definitely more helpful to have more "support." plus you hated him, only putting up with him for the sake of his daughter. no, it wasn't attraction- it was just nervousness. he loved his wife.

katsuki woke up to his wife, raya in his arms. she looked so pretty and peaceful like this. he snapped out of his daze and got out of bed to catch a shower. he couldn't help but find his hand reaching down to take care of himself. usually when he finds himself touching himself; its of thoughts of his wife from the night prior. but today it was you. he felt shameful but he just couldnt help it. he couldn't stop himself from thinking about you. hes only human.    

[pupkashi]

hii can you do Gojo and reader doing skincare with each other?

thank you so so much !!

a/n: thank you for the request this is so cute hehe :3 just a short little drabble as i work on a couple longer pieces i can hopefully get out soon ! i hope this was okay idk how i feel abt it :P

“okay you have to keep a straight face once i put this on you or else it’ll mess up” you say, looking at your lover with a stern face, “okay?”

satoru huffs, flopping onto his back before springing back up with a nod, “alright fine I’ll sacrifice my amazing sense of humor for-” he squints his eyes as he reads the label of the container in your hand, “10 minutes?!”

“oh please you aren’t even that funny” you laugh, rolling your eyes when he claims he already made you laugh.

“put on your bunny ears and sit still” you demand, throwing the headband at him softly, smiling fondly when he pouts at you. “if you sit still I’ll give you a kiss,” you bargain, mixing up the mask in its container with the small spreader.

“3 kisses, minimum” his hands crossed across his chest, an attempt to be intimidating.

“two kisses, max, and you dont look intimidating with cinnamoroll ears, you look like a cute little bunny,” you grin, kissing his blushing cheeks before placing two kisses on his lips.

satoru remains still as you apply the mask, alternating between staring at you and fluttering his eyes shut. maybe he could go the 10 minutes without laughing.

his first mistake was asking to apply the mask to your face, because he was already wanting to giggle from just how softly you were looking at him.

“toru stop smiling it’ll crack!” you pout, watching as he fought back a smile as he spread the mask on your face.

“okay, I’m done laughing- only sad thoughts now,” he shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath and continuing to apply your mask.

his second mistake was looking at the pair of you in the mirror, bright green masks covering 95% of your faces, lips trying their hardest to not break into a smile.

you knew from the very beginning the mask would crack, it was impossible for the two of you to not smile when you were in the same room for longer than 30 seconds at a time.

for the first couple of minutes the two of you closed your eyes and relished in the silence. until satoru’s stomach cried out for help, and you had to stifle your laughter.

“you hungry?” you asked, eyes opening as you turn to look at your lover.

“no, i think i have to use the restroom,” he frowns, hands clutching his stomach as he jumped out of bed.

“oh my god,” you bit your lip, ready to give up on the face mask when satoru walks out of the restroom only a couple moments later.

“false alarm,” his face completely blank as he settles into bed next to you once more. “how much time is left?”

“6 minutes.”

“you’re lying to me, it has been much longer than four minutes!” he groans, “life is so hard when i can’t talk to my funny, amazing, beautiful, perfect, sweetheart,” he sighs.

“life is so peaceful when i can’t talk to my boyfriend,” you sigh, eyes opening and seeing satoru looking at you with the biggest frown on his face you’d ever seen, “I’m kidding! life is so terrible without my angel boy,” you reassure, a smile almost breaking onto your face.

silence settles between the two of you for a second.

“so, the weather” he asks, the two of you staring each other in the eyes before a smile breaks onto both of your faces, incessant giggles and back to back snorts filling the room as the two of you topple over in laughter.

“the weather? really?” you cry, smacking his leg as you continue laughing.

“you weren’t even talking! i was at least trying!” he laughs, tears rolling down his face as he wipes them instinctively, the mask rubbing onto his hands and making him frown.

“well the masks are ruined,” you check the timer on your phone, “how do we still have ten minutes left?” satoru asks, looking at him with a straight face when the timer goes off.

“thank god it’s over, let’s wash this off immediately so i can get my kisses” he grins, bounding over the restroom with his bunny ears flopping with him.

he’s quick to rinse his face, patting it dry with a towel before letting you do the same, watching as you moisturize your face and instruct him to do the same.

when the two of you are finally back in bed satoru looks more rejuvenated than ever, eyes bright and skin dewy as he smiled at you.

you could help but giggle, a small ‘what?’ leaving your lips as he hums in reply, taking you in his arms and pulling you as close to him as he could.

he could smell your body wash and your shampoo mixing together, he could smell his laundry detergent on his shirt that you stole. he figured this is what home smelled like.

“i love you, sweetheart,” he mumbles, placing feather kisses across your face, grinning when you laugh softly.

“i love you more, angel boy,” you sigh happily, “but you suck at skin care.”

satoru whines, falling ontop of you in protest, “next time i won’t mess it up i promise! today was just too good of a day to not laugh with my lover.”

you roll your eyes, not a hint of annoyance or attitude as you reply, “oh really? because that’s what you said the last three times we tried.”

“everyday is just perfect when it’s with you,” he grins, picking himself up and vigorously placing kisses across your face, only stopping when you push him off you gently.

“fine we’ll try again next time,” you smile, “now let’s go to sleep im exhausted.”

you didn’t really care about the masks or if they’d really help your skin or if the two of you ever made it the whole 10 minutes without messing it up.

all you cared about was spending time with your lover

taglist (send and ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[fullsunalicia]

gif made by @dojaejung ! all credits to @dojaejung !

roses (m.) | jeong jaehyun

“it’s killing me to know there’s someone else out there buying you / roses, roses” OR where jung jaehyun is pathetic enough to be yearning after his beautiful ex-girlfriend, whom he reconnects with after awkwardly crashing her date with a new potential lover.

jeong jaehyun x ex-girlfriend! reader

warnings: some allusions to stalking and online harassment, some make-outage, oral (fem. receiving), some exhibitionism ig?????, some cussing, jaehyun is EXTREMELY down bad (he who yearns is he who earns amirite yall), svt as side characters for my caratzen agenda, also i’m still an awkward writer (in my opinion) so that warrants its own warning

This is why Jaehyun despises leaving his apartment.

For the first time in weeks, Doyoung and Taeyong, in their combined nerdy best friends power, have managed to make him go outside again. Although it’s the middle of the winter, each day inching closer to Christmas day, the bustling city is filled with people enjoying themselves despite the sub-zero temperatures. It makes him sick, really. Not people in general, for sure, but the sight of couples swarming about, their happy faces making sure every single person’s envious gaze is following them until they disappear around the corner.

Winter is sickening. Winter makes people too cozy, too cuddly, too loving. When spring comes, that love melts away, fleeting as it was. It dims out like the warm fire you stoke in the evening as you gather with your loved ones, in the morning long gone and forgotten with the loss of the guests. Jaehyun hates it. His friends knows he hates it.

So did you.

As Doyoung and Taeyong keep him in their middle, holding on to his arm on each sides as if they were old aunts bickering away, he reminisces about your shared hatred of the cold. You had hated snow, most of all, he remembers as he watches the thick, cold flakes swirl around in the air. It leaves a mist on the people passing by him, painting them in the lovely shades of the cold. Rosy cheeks, white smiling teeth, blue fingertips. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine it’s you clinging to him again, complaining loudly about the weather, scared of falling to the ground. You had always been incredibly clumsy, and unashamedly loud. Every passerby could not help but smile at your antics, but none smiled wider than the man you had wrapped around your littlest finger; Jaehyun, who had always stared at you instead of ahead. Jaehyun, who in the end always made you guys fall because he wasn’t concentrating on walking, he was concentrating on you.

You, the single star in his solar system he was orbitting around. He had felt himself collapsing, folding around you, as if he could ingrain himself in your existence in the very same manner you had immortalized yourself in his soul. How pathetic you had left him.

“Hey, earth to Jae! You’re not seriously upset we made you leave the house, right?” Taeyong’s hand forces itself into Jaehyun’s periphery as he waves it infront of Jaehyun’s face, trying to gain the man’s attention. Every finger was perfectly manicured, the tell-tale rings that signified Taeyong snapping Jaehyun out of his daydreams. Mentioned friend looks worried, but not regretful. “We were beginning to think you had fallen asleep in there, like some bear. You shouldn’t hibernate.”

“But bears got it so right. It’s so much better to sleep the winter away.” Jaehyun sounds exhausted, almost childish. He knew he was a grown man, not a teenager mooning over his first love. But it certainly felt like he had become the former. That was your effect.

“Dude.” Doyoung grasps his shoulder then, boring his gaze into Jaehyun’s face. He had been dreading that, actually; it’s hard to act like a complaining child when Doyoung makes you face yourself just like that. Almost unconsciously, Jaehyun straightens up. It’s almost like facing your mother, and he’s trying to avoid Doyoung’s fussing. “It’s been almost a year. I hate to be the one to be saying this, but you have to let it go at some point, man.”

You have to let it go at some point. Doyoung’s right, of course, but Jaehyun hasn’t yet reached that point of being reasonable. It’s not like the five stages of grief. Jaehyun is in the awkward process of trying to understand what has actually happened to him; why your relationship came to an end, why you were so kind to him despite it all, how you had finally cut him off. No one really knows why you did it, least of all Jaehyun. As you had broke it off with him after dropping him off at the airport before he flew to the first stop of his current world tour, there wasn’t exactly time to ask questions.

You had given him a letter and apologized (seriously, so not cool to explain in a letter just so you didn’t need to face him), and just as soon as the flight touched down at his destination and his phone had regained connection to his cellular data, you had changed your number, deleted your socials and disappeared from his life.

(Not like he immediately found you again when you re-debuted on social media. Johnny, as a true best friend, has forced him to limit looking at your instagram account to once a week, but how will Johnny know if he does it more? No one needs to know. Jaehyun would lose face if even anyone knew how much he misses you.)

Jaehyun lowers his eyes then, unable to keep looking at Doyoung. “Let go. Yeah.”

Doyoung and Taeyong exchange a worried gaze at that, before nudging him to a new direction. Their footsteps leave soft white traces, disappearing as quickly as they are made as fresh snow falls. “I got just the thing to cheer you up,” Taeyong quips then, and when he smiles at Jaehyun in an attempt to comfort him, Jaehyun finds the strength to smile back. Those are his friends, after all. If he weren’t so detached from his emotions, he’d find himself moved by their sincerity; his silly friends that loved and cared for him despite his habits and his weird coping methods. They didn’t judge when he sent them new song lyrics he had written in the middle of the night because the memory of you is still haunting him, scaring him off sleep because the comfort he gains from dreaming of you is as addicting as chasing liquor. They had let him ruminate in his apartment for as long as possible. It was time to face the world properly now. “Hot cocoa and waffles?”

Jaehyun snorted. “Like children?”

“Like children,” Taeyoung announces, his voice too earnest for the statement. Doyoung laughs, and then it’s difficult to not join in. Taeyong grins, happy to have drawn that reaction out of them. For the moment, Jaehyun feels normal again, and he offers to buy the waffles as Doyoung and Taeyong line up to buy the hot cocoa.

That’s the same moment where Jaehyun immediately regrets having left the house.

The sight of you physically knocks the breath of his lungs. For just a second, just seeing your face erases the feeling of all the pain that had been wrenching at his heartstrings, your beauty so all-encompassing it stuns him into silence. The cold season has kissed your face in the most pretty way - as you throw your head back in laughter, your (incredibly tempting) lips curve into his favorite smile of yours, the smile that has to be stolen out of you, so surprised by something that you laugh involuntarily. Honest. And earnest.

And beautiful.

It’s almost beautiful enough to make him not acknowledge the other man that you are gifting it to.

Jaehyun forces himself not to look, the effort incredible. He does not want to see who you have replaced him with, he really doesn’t, truly not, but then the dizzy envy makes him look so that he can bombard the man with death threats in his mind. Not that it matters. He could have been anyone, anyone at all. What did it matter if that was someone he knew or someone unknown, when the most damning thing about the situation was that it wasn’t him?

When he looks back at you to keep analyzing whether you like this man a lot, Jaehyun has come to the startled realization that you have noticed him, aswell. Your face has dropped, the shock painted over your face like an ill-fitting mask. “Jaehyun?” you say, the sweet voice carried over to him in the wind, and his knees almost buckle. (Jesus Christ, he’s a grown man.) Your partner notices, looking up to see whom you’re addressing, and Jaehyun’s nonchalant reaction to the irrelevance of the man’s identity disappears instantaneously.

Fuck you, he thinks hard at the dude, as if the sheer mental strength of his thoughts could reach him, for actually looking gorgeous. Fucking hell.

“Jeong Jaehyun?” You call again, robbing him off the opportunity to maybe pretend he hadn’t heard you. He forces himself to move forward.

“You know each other?” the guy asks then, and Jaehyun thinks to himself, No, idiot, I am the stalker that’s been breaking into her apartment and leaving her letters. But then he remembers how Johnny has admonished him for doing the social media equivalent and how often he visits your socials just for a glance at you, and the thought almost immediately sobers him up. “Jeong Jaehyun,” he introduces himself then, reaching out his hand to shake the other man’s, even though he’d rather bite it off. “We were…”

“Acquaintances,” you interrupt him almost immediately. The smile you sport now is nervous, to the untrained eye flawless. But Jaehyun knows every inch of your soul, and the look in your eyes pleads him not to acknowledge it. “Jaehyun used to be really close to my brother. You’ve met my brother, right?”

“Oh, Seokmin, right?” The stranger’s eye glint in recognition. “That means you must be cool, man. Anyone who’s in Seokmin’s good cards is good in mine. My name’s Junseo.”

“Nice to meet you, Junseo,” he makes himself speak, although the words taste like coal in his mouth, turning ashy as he pronounces them. He’s never been a good liar, always careful about choosing his words, but then, he’s never been in the situation where had to meet the lover that was going to replace him in your heart. He turns to you, your lovely face ripping into him. You stare back as if you are aware of the effort it takes him to remain friendly. You don’t look like you enjoy inflicting this havoc upon him, but ever since that day, he doesn’t truly know what you are capable of. “It was nice to see you,” he tells you, turning away as soon as the words leave his lips.

He never hears your “Jae”, the sound ripped out of you like an old instinct.

jaehyun

could you maybe at least warn me that your sister is back in town

dk 😁

yo

i didnt even know she was

can you let her know to bring milk to mom’s house we ran out this morning

jaehyun

. . .

no dk i cannot i almost collapsed when i saw her

can you say hello to your mom tho

Jaehyun drops the phone on the couch, the interaction having soured his mood just as much as the meeting with you. Seokmin was cool, and a really good friend, although a bit clueless. He had been firm in his support for Jaehyun, not picking sides, but not abandoning their friendship either, and had been one of the friends who had dragged him out for dinner once a week ever since the break-up to make sure Jaehyun was actually eating. Jaehyun doesn’t even think this happened to your dismay. You were way too nice, and even your fucking break-up letter had been kind, even though it hadn’t been enough to wipe the blank look in his eyes as he had read it.

“Okay, so that may have went worse than we thought,” Taeyong proclaims, the hot cocoa still steaming in his hand. Even though they had technically paid for the cup as a loan, taking it back home felt like stealing. Jaehyun couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was staring at the ceiling, looking at no one. “But hey, at least we found out who the mystery guy on her instagram was!”

Johnny, who had let himself into the apartment while they were gone, perked up at that. Very aware of your instagram due to Jaehyun’s influence, he knew that there had been an odd silhouette in your instagram story the past few weeks, almost a soft-launch and almost not. There had been theories whether the mystery guy had been a new lover. Jaehyun had almost thrown up when Mark had suggested the idea. “You did? She was with a man?”

“Yeah, Junseo what’s-his-name. Didn’t give a last name, though.” Doyoung sounds concentrated, probably too focussed on not breaking Jaehyun’s new coffee machine. “Jaehyun, coffee?”

“No,” Jaehyun deadpans. “I want death.”

The entire room groans at that. “Fresh out of death, dude,” Johnny tells him, bowing over the couch to throw a blanket over where Jaehyun was laying and Mark had fallen asleep. Johnny was his best friend in the entire world, and very used to Jaehyun’s antics. Throughout it all(the acclimatization to the celebrity life, the growing into a fully formed and actualized person in the public eye, the stabbing ache of heartbreak), Johnny had become a brother to him. It was Johnny’s hand pulling him along through life, his ears that were entrusted with every joy and worry in Jaehyun’s mind, his kindness that kept Jaehyun standing sometimes. “It’s coffee or nothing,” he continues after ensuring both men on the couch were covered with the blanket. And then, as he turns back to Doyoung: “Make him some coffee. He hasn’t touched his cocoa.”

The quiet bickering of his friends fade away then, forcing him to come to terms with what has happened. Seeing your face again felt like being struck down by God, to put it in blasphemous terms. You had always been the most beautiful person to him, including both his preference that came from loving you and his attraction to people in general. Jaehyun hadn’t been the kind of man to have an exact type before meeting you, but now he looks for you in every smile, every fluttering lash, in every face he meets. Looking for the traces of where your ancestors had painted their magic, the overarching connection between several generations, the hand reaching across time. Whoever crafted you had taken his time to ensure every single detail, and the love that had flowed into the shaping of you glinted across every feature. Having been starved of seeing you, this interaction had thrown him into cold water face first. Even the memory stung.

You hadn’t looked bothered to see him. If anything, you had been as sweet as always, even though you hadn’t expected to see him. He had thought being gone from your side had hurt, but seeing that Junseo was making him sick to the stomach. It was his job to make you laugh like that. It was his duty to ensure your happiness. To think of that fool doing it in his stead made him spark up with a fury that he had long forgotten, the feeling so unfamiliar it made him reach inside those spaces inside himself that he had abandoned for so long. During the separation every emotion had come to him so dull and muted - happiness, sadness, surprise, anger. But as if they had never left him, Jaehyun recognized that he was jealous.

Awfully jealous.

So that was the next step of Jaehyun’s alternative five stages of grief process. Instead of coming to terms with the ephemeral nature of his relationship with you, he’s pining over the one woman he cannot have. He raises his hands to cover his face, his fingers shaking - it’s crazy, how you unravel him. It’s been eight months and Jaehyun is still willing to go on his knees to beg just to make sure you stop seeing anyone else.

(At that point, he was very unaware of how near in the future that was going to happen.)

“Hey, dude.” Jaehyun is snapped out of his thoughts by the raspy voice of one Mark Lee. He lowers his hands to see Mark peaking his head out of the blanket, hair completely ruined from tossing and turning in his sleep, looking just like the lion that his friends affectionately nickname him as. Their friends are still bickering in the kitchen, arguing about how to handle the coffee machine properly, with Doyoung’s voice cutting through the others. “You alright over there?”

Jaehyun clears his voice. He suddenly feels glad that Mark doesn’t know yet that he’s seen you, as he doesn’t want to burden Mark with his worries. He’s only a little younger, but he’s the closest thing to a younger sibling Jaehyun has, and he treasures him to the point where he often wants to shield him from the shit that Jaehyun has going on. “Yeah, all good. Why did you wake up? Not sleepy anymore?”

“Your phone has been going off like crazy.” Mark points at the aforementioned phone before yawning. As Jaehyun reaches for the device, he sits up and looks into the kitchen from the vantage point he has of the kitchen. The screen lights up after a few quick taps, and Mark asks: “Something important? Sounds like someone’s spamming you.”

dk 😁

not to be the bearer of bad news but mom wants to have you over for dinner on saturday

😭 maybe i shouldnt have delivered your greetings bro

i think my sister has a date on that evening tho so maybe nothing will happen?????

i mean you can say no but you know damn well my mom loves you (because you kiss up to her) so

yeah

i get if you dont want to

Jaehyun blinks. Several times. Then, he drops his face into his hands again, sighing so loudly that even Mark seems astonished.

It seems like you’re not gonna leave his mind anytime soon.

The first time Jaehyun had met you, you had still been a junior in college.

He’s always known you existed, of course - the pretty-faced little sister that was off-limits to anyone, who had the most embarrassing haircut when she was still in middle school, who liked to receive flowers for her birthday instead of gifts. Seokmin doesn’t talk about you often, but when he does, there’s a gentle smile etched on his face that seems like the most jarring contrast to the way he bickers and fights with you in person. Jaehyun couldn’t conjure an image of you, but when he thought of your name, it filled Jaehyun’s mind with a sweet dream. He had been missing you in his heart before he had even met you, the soft tug of a red string around his littlest finger.

The request had been hastily asked and innocent in nature. Pick up my sister, please? An unusual request, as Seokmin never introduced his sister to anyone for your own privacy, but it didn’t bother Jaehyun to do it, especially since DK was a very good friend. You had been incredibly drunk, and uncomfortable at a party, and called for the person you trust most in the world. DK on the other hand, drunk out of his own mind at an entirely different party in his own dorm shared with his bandmates, had called a friend he knew he could entrust with the safety of his littlest sister.

Completely hammered and wobbling on your entirely too high heels, you had gladly clung to Jaehyun’s arm after realizing he had been the savior your brother had sent you. Your introduction came out loud and clear, and you had enunciated every syllable to make sure he heard it. When he correctly repeated the name back to you to ensure he remembered it, a dazzling smile had split across your lips in the cutest way possible. It had made his heart jump in a deliciously agonizing way.

“Can you walk?” he had asked you then, pointing down at your monstrous heels. He had truth be told been incredibly impressed with the way you had managed to leave the front porch of the party house, even though every step enunciated that you were incredibly intoxicated. You had waved off his worry and beamed at him with the innocent happiness only a drunk person could exude, completely free from all wordly burdens. “Don’t worry!” you told him, your voice as melodious as it was pleasing. “I’ve walked in worse heels! And I’m not even that drunk!”

Jaehyun had no intention of questioning you, but the exclamation did make him laugh. He had been awkward about the interaction the entire time he had driven here. Would you be able to even feel comfortable with him? What if you guys didn’t speak about anything? But your behavior had loosened up the tension inside his chest, and he found himself relaxing under your hold, gently guiding you back to his car. Your grip was tight, but not painful, and you had hooked your arm around his to keep close to him in a way that wasn’t entirely unwelcome to him. He had not expected to warm up to you so quickly. “So you’re able to hold your liquor? You must not actually be related to DK then. The guy can’t hold his liquor for shit.”

The joke tugged a surprised laugh out of you. It was a nice sound, the genuineness of it making a smile form around Jaehyun’s lips. So open, so friendly, so extroverted - so incredibly different from him, and yet a simple laugh from you made Jaehyun entranced with the existence of you. He wanted to relish the sound, making him wrap his fingers around the keys in his pockets to ensure they wouldn’t rattle when he pulled them out. “I’m sure he’s got that from mom,” you had explained to him while snickering, momentarily letting go from him as he opened the door for you. After clambering in and pulling the door shut, he had walked around the car to climb in himself. The door clicked shut. “I’m my father’s daughter through and through. We used to place bets at New Year’s parties with the family how much time it would take for mom to crash out after a single bottle of champagne.”

“And?” he asks. The engine of the car sprung to life with a simple press of a button, idling quietly while Jaehyun had put on his seatbelt. “Did you win the bet?”

Your expression in the rearview mirror was smug when Jaehyun checked his surroundings in it, pulling out of the parking space he had found near the house the party was in. “I was fifty bucks richer about half an hour later.”

Jaehyun couldn’t help but laugh - at your behavior, your teasing little remarks, the way you hiccuped before laughing because you were a little liar that couldn’t hold their liquor. By the time he had reached DK’s apartment building, where you had requested to be dropped off because you wanted to sleep over at your brother’s, your drunkenness had made you drowsy. Without even thinking about it, you had climbed over the console to envelop Jaehyun in a hug, shocking him to the core. Your floral perfume had been dizzying, but the near proximity of you had almost made him drunk himself. Jaehyun was an idol under the strict gaze of both his employer and his supporters. His resulting touch-starvation had made him grasp your soft waist with both hands, and he closed his eyes to soak in the warmth of your touch. It was startingly intimate. “Thank you for bringing me home,” you had murmured against his shoulder, momentarily resting your head on it, as if it belonged there - as if you had been made to be held by him. You lined up perfectly, like puzzle pieces, and for a moment, Jaehyun had felt complete in a way that made him question himself was my heart always hollow of you?

When you pulled back with your bright smile and your hazy eyes, a pink blush had dusted across Jaehyun’s cheeks that he prayed you hadn’t noticed. “You’re super duper nice,” you proclaimed then, not fully retracting from where you were leaning on his body. Not pushing his hands away, either. “And it’s way more fun to ride in your car than in Jeonghan’s. You drive like a responsible adult.”

“Are you saying Jeonghan doesn’t drive like a responsible adult?”

“I’m not sure he knows what that is.” Giggling, you untangled yourself from him, startling Jaehyun with the immediate ache for you. Get a grip, he thought to himself. Acting like a teenage virgin. “And I should know!” you enunciated. “The idiot tried teaching me how to drive. If DK hadn’t put an end to that, I would have never gotten my driver’s license.”

Jaehyun, still reeling from the affection you had graced him with, smiled shyly at that. “Well, I’m glad to have brought you home safe, like the responsible adult I am. Can you make it up on your own?”

You “mhm”ed loudly, noisily maneuvring yourself out of the car. Jaehyun winced quietly when the heels of your shoes clacked against the pavement harshly, almost sure one had broken. But you had straightened up with a grin, waving stupidly, shouting loud “thank-you”s and “get home safe!”s as he watched you walk into the apartment complex, running into your drunk brother and almost-brothers (as his bandmates liked to title themselves as, loving you like you were one of their own).

He had sat and waited for a long time for his erratic heart to slow down again. You were a miracle he hadn’t been waiting for, like a sudden blessing after a fervent prayer. He went to sleep thinking of your name, finally being able to connect it with a face, the yearning following him into his dreams.

It was that same yearning that woke him up in the middle of the night now, reaching for the empty bedside, remembering where you were.

Remembering that you weren’t reaching for him anymore, no matter how much you had loved him.

Jaehyun cleans up nicely, when he wants to. When he checks his reflection in the camera app one last time before ringing the door, he almost doesn’t recognize himself. Johnny’s girlfriend had helped him put on a little bit of make-up to cover the black shadows under his eyes and wished him luck, although he wasn’t sure what he needed the luck for. To see you? Not to see you? The question had been eating away at him on the way here, making his hands sweat to the point that the driver’s wheel had looked kind of disgusting afterwards. He can’t shake the cold fear that accompanies the thought of you these days. The desire to be in your presence was a knife turning in his guts, so sharp that even the pain seemed more welcome than another day without you. As he closes his eyes, he imagines you opening the door, welcoming him home, kissing all the exhaustion away. But when the door opens up after knocking at it, the sweet face of your mother receives him.

Not that the sight isn’t welcome. Jaehyun sees his mother often enough to not have to miss her, but the need for a motherly presence never truly leaves you, no matter how old you are. There is a part of him that will always be a child, reaching for his parents’ hands, knowing he will be safe there. Your mother fills that space often when his own cannot. “Jaehyunnie! I’m glad you made it, sweetling,” your mother gushes, hurrying to clasp his hands. The sight of her red, marred hands makes his heart hurt - has she been overworking herself? - but the pain is soon replaced with a gentle warmth spreading inside his chest at her motherly clucking. “Hurry inside, we made your favorite! You still like spicy pork, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He removes his shoes before stepping inside, feeling nostalgic. The first time he had met your parents, the house had been newly bought and hardly acquired, with your parents having haggled for an appropriate price for months. Over the years, the building had been renovated, filled with furniture, and changed as more and more memories had been made in this place. To see it now standing proudly and lived in made him happy, but also sad, as he wasn’t fully part of that experience anymore.

“Don’t be silly, boy! You know you call me mom here!”

“Yes, mom.”

“Mom,” rings out the complaining voice of Seokmin then. He’s standing at the foot of the stairs. His voice had been petulant, but there’s a very big grin on his face as Jaehyun approaches him in greeting, and they hug each other without hesitation. DK had seen him go through enough shit to not have to shy back from physical affection. “Don’t nag with Jaehyun before he’s properly inside. How’s it going, J? I heard your new album, it was awesome!”

Your mother nods enthusiastically. “You are hard-working as always, Jaehyunnie! The songs sound beautiful!”

Jaehyun laughs, bashful. He feels awkward and happy at once, to be complimented upon for his talents while simultaneously knowing that most of those songs had been written with you in mind. “Thank you for saying that,” he answers.

“It’s only right,” your mother tuts then. As she turns to walk back in the kitchen, she opens her mouth to say something again, but there’s another knock at the door, startling them all. The three exchange glances, both Seokmin and your mother seeming surprised by the noise. “Are you expecting someone, Seokminnie?” When DK shakes his head no in answer, she walks back to the door, humming to herself in confusion. “Maybe your father? But he’s not supposed to get off work until 8.”

Before your mother even opens the door, the dread of who could possibly be standing in front of that door tells Jaehyun what to expect. And as he turns over that assumption in that mind, the door opens to reveal you, clad in a red dress that hugs your curves and exposes your mid-thigh. “Oh, sweetie!” your mother exclaims. “But what are you doing here? Aren’t you going to dinner with that Junseo-ssi?”

You don’t answer, your eyes locked onto him. He recognizes the sight of slight panic and confusion in your eyes - apparently, DK hadn’t told you that you were visiting in the hopes that you wouldn’t see each other anyways. Although barely a second passes, it feels like eternity as you take each other in.

Fuck, you’re as beautiful as the day he lost you. He doesn’t even register that your mother is still chattering away as he drinks in the sight of you, the sinful silhouette and the angel eyes that have been accentuated by a skilled hand and your favorite eyeliner pen. The blood rushes in his veins, filling his ears with the sound of waves crashing, his desire lapping higher and higher until it makes his chest hurt. “Mom,” you manage to say. “He was called into work at the last minute. It’s pretty awkward to be the only one all dolled up here, so may I go up and change please? And not have to make awkward small talk in the salon?”

“Of course, sweetling, just go up! Seokmin will help me with the last preparations for dinner.” Your mother leaves at that, and the three adults remaining are crushed by the awkward tension in the room. Even more awkward for the third wheel in the room is that neither of both you and Jaehyun have looked away from each other ever since you walked in, and DK takes the chance to quietly slip out of the room to join his mother in the kitchen, leaving Jaehyun to his doom.

(Traitor.)

Jaehyun breathes out, struggling to fill his lungs with the air he needs. “You look stunning,” he says, his voice straining to pronounce the words. It’s pathetic how much he wants to press you against that wall and devour you. Even though his inner adult yells at him that he isn’t yours anymore, the thoughts do not stop coming. Truthfully, there can’t be any scientific explanation for how fast his heart races because of you, but it keeps on beating, jumping out of his chest. Falling to your feet.

You finally step out of the doorframe, into the house itself. The door quietly falls into the lock. You reach down to unclasp your high heels, the movement mechanic. You seem as dazed as he is. He entertains the possibility whether he has the same effect on you as you do on him, but he casts the thought aside immediately. You had left him, after all. “Thank you,” you answer, your voice meek. As if you were to strangers. “Are you … doing well?”

I hope that despite the way I’m ending things, you will be well. I pray that you are healthy, that you are eating enough, that you flourish in your career as you deserve to be. You are outstanding, Jeong Jaehyun, a flaming star lighting up the sky. I pray that you find it in yourself to forgive me.

“Well?” he echoes, as if that word was a joke. And then, almost in disbelief, he asks back, “Are you?”

You lower your gaze then. “I finish my master’s degree this year, so I’m a little stressed. But aside from that, I am fine, thank you for asking.” You straighten up, intending to walk past him. But Jaehyun, as if possessed, grabs your wrist; the touch makes both of you shudder, and you look up to see the absolute yearning in his eyes staring back at you. He doesn’t really know what made him do it, and he seems as shocked as you are; he had been thinking more quickly than he had been moving, and his muscles spasmed from the lack of communication between his nerves and his brain.

It’s written across his face, it must be. The intense wish to bow his head and lean against you, cage you against the railing of the stairs. To make you reach inside his soul and connect the broken pieces there that were the remaining shards of his heart. Jaehyun doesn’t want anyone else in the world to see inside him like that. He wants you, he wants to be your boyfriend. Despite it all. The good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. Are you well? Jaehyun’s hand slips lower, interlocking your fingers, the physical connection there setting fire to the skin. I pray that you are. “Take care of yourself,” he tells you instead of all the words that have been left unsaid ever since you abandoned him, all the tears that he has shed. He wants to tell you how his pride for your success makes him fly higher than any of his own achievements ever would, how soft his heart feels at the fact that you are so close to reaching your goals. How much he wishes to be a part of supporting you towards that. But he doesn’t.

You don’t break free of his hold, but it seems clear that you do not reciprocate the hurricane of emotions he is feeling right now. “You shouldn’t say that,” you tell him, tone polite, but your voice sounds hesitant. He wants to kiss the hesitation out of you, eat your laughter as he tugs at your lower lip. The proximity is driving him crazy. “I mean, I don’t wanna be rude. But I am seeing Junseo. You don’t have to worry about me, Jae. Jaehyun.” You cough awkwardly, as if that can erase the affectionate nickname, as if there isn’t something inside you still calling for him. You step backwards. If hitting the railing is embarrassing to you, you don’t let it show.

He lets go of you and steps back, then silently watches you go up the stairs. Your soft shuffling as you walk back to your room. The decisive shutting of a door.

Silently dreaming of what would happen if you graced him with your attention again.

The dinner itself is uneventful. You make polite conversation, thankfully sitting diagonally away from him, wedged in between your mother and your brother, whom Jaehyun sits across. But he sees the blush never truly leaving your face, and the way you throw glances at him when you think he isn’t paying attention. It makes him delusional enough to imagine that maybe, he wasn’t the only one still thinking about their ex.

Jaehyun glances down at his cleared plate, a half smile curling at his lips. Not truly a real smile. But not truly a lie, either.

@leey/n has started following you on Instagram!

@leey/n has liked a post!

The third time your paths cross, you truly think you are about to go crazy.

This is an art gallery, for crying out loud. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jaehyun in a museum. Not that he’s uneducated or disinterested, mind you, but Jaehyun was the kind of guy to take you to places where you could etch your own memories across the place. The arcade in Busan where you won your first ever plushie and promptly gifted it to him, for one; the trip to Jeju where you had almost fainted and scared the shit out of Jaehyun; the high-end restaurant in Gangnam where you both can never let your face be seen again after having been thrown out for laughing too loud. You had spoken about the particular art gallery here once, debating about attending an event that was held in that month, but ultimately had the decision taken out of your hands after you unexpectedly had to go the hospital due to your appendix bursting. But here he was, looking like the most ravishing man alive in that stupid suit.

It should be forbidden to look that good. Genuinely. You think your heart stops momentarily when you see him, and then again when your gaze involuntarily drops to the exposed skin of his chest, displaying the vulnerable area due to the v-cut of his suit jacket. Hell. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was doing this on purpose.

You gather up the train of your dress and hurry over before anyone can recognize either him or you. He looks startled, and then that weird flash of desperation flits across his eyes before he hastily makes himself appear composed. You don’t for the life of you know why exactly his reaction to you is like that, but you suppose the time for complaining was over, since, you know, you broke up with him. You knew it had been a bitch move to write a letter, but you couldn’t exactly tell him the true reason to his face. Hey, I know this sounds stupid, but I’m afraid of ruining your career because netizens keep shit talking our relationship and tainting your reputation, have a nice day though!

No, he’d never understand. This was for the best. He’d been so close to completing his album, so proud of what he had achieved, and the grief of almost taking that away from him made you want to throw up. So you had decided to sacrifice yourself, in an as cowardly manner as possible.

No one would ever know that Jeong Jaehyun made your soul sing in the most exquisite way possible, and that your heart had been filled with so much joy that it almost burst. No one needed to know.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss at him. You turn your head to ensure that no one is actually looking, before tugging him to the side. Almost unconsciously, you take his hand and guide him to a different spot, a quiet corner where only strangers were staring at the art being displayed. Even the music was muted.

“Is this not a public event?” he hisses back, confused by your behavior. But he lets you do as you please, even lowering his head to yours to make sure no one hears. His fingers gently tangle with yours, swiping across your knuckles as he always does - did. It’s like your love runs deeper than human behavior, deeply embedded in your body’s instincts. You see it in the way the caution you display reflects back in his eyes, as if your secrets are still holier to him than his own. Even though he has no idea why you’re being so ominous. It’s one of the qualities you love most about Jaehyun; he never once tries to tell you what to do, always acquiescing your needs, letting you take the lead when necessary. It makes a traitorous happiness bloom inside your chest that he is still the kind of person who would always have your back. “Why exactly wouldn’t I be here? If it’s because you didn’t want to see my face, don’t tell me that. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Jeong Jaehyun,” you groan, exasperated as you are. You hastily scan the area, always dreading that Junseo is about to turn the corner to catch you both. It had already been a surprise that evening had been made possible, since Junseo was a workaholic. Your friends joked around that he loves his residency at Seoul General Hospital first, and you second. You did not want to squander this opportunity of growing closer to him, a whim based on the fact that he was a pretty face and you desperately needed to move on. You weren’t serious, and you could count the amount of dates you had been on on one hand, but it worked its magic enough. Jaehyun only needed to believe that you were moving on. And Junseo only needed to believe Jaehyun was unimportant. Not like it’s forbidden to speak with an “acquaintance”, even if he did see you both here - but Jeong Jaehyun wasn’t an acquaintance, he was your ex-boyfriend for crying out loud, and if it weren’t for the necessary masquerade to appear as if you were moving on, you wouldn’t even be entertaining Junseo’s presence, no matter how charming he was. It was a stupid plan, concocted by an even more stupid Jeonghan. “Who would’t want to see your face? That’s not what I mean.”

The compliment slips out before you can hold it back. It’s so easy, so habitual to make it, to admire Jeong Jaehyun’s existence. You had never even met a man like him. He was sin made flesh, with his well-formed, strong body, the gorgeous face, the sun-kissed hair that switched colors from comeback to comeback. Jaehyun looks surprised to hear it. The dimples in his cheeks signal the smile that stretches across his lips, sweet and genuine and startled. It makes you sad, that he doesn’t expect those compliments; he is the kindest, sincerest, most attentive man you know.

(And if you were still in a relationship, you would have torn the clothes off of him and jumped him for looking that good in a suit. Not want to see his face my ass - you could stare at Jeong Jaehyun all day.)

“I thought we weren’t supposed to say stuff like that,” he says back, his voice low. It sounds deliciously rough, the way it sometimes sounded when you woke him from his sleep to kiss him, the sleepy yawns turning into soft moans when you rode him, his hands mapping out the space of your skin. You shake your head, as if you can shake off the memory. Your adoration for him went bone-deep. “Whatever,” you say hastily, as if that can erase the obvious pining you are displaying. “I mean, I don’t want Junseo to see us. I know you don’t like to lie, and I’m sorry for introducing you as an acquaintance, but I’d like it to remain that way. For him to believe there was nothing between us, I mean.”

“And is there?” Jaehyun’s voice sounds steady. It kills you to see the hope in his eyes, even now, even after you’ve hurt him after flaunting a new relationship. You remember his beautiful face on that day at the Christmas market, where the agony in his eyes had almost made you weep. You never ever wanted to be responsible for Jaehyun’s grief, not even now. “Nothing between us?”

You falter then, forgetting what you want to say. You can’t tell him the truth, you cannot - the truth being that when you look into Jaehyun’s eyes, your knees go weak and your hands yearn to claw at him and your kisses want to devour him whole, bones and all. You want to crawl inside him and live there forever, like the insane lover you are. You want to kiss him until you forget your own name, until the mornings become routine where you wake up next to him, where the sight of his beautiful face becomes the first thing you see after waking up for the rest of your life. The wish is so fervent it catches you off-guard, and it weakens your resolve. “There’s nothing, Jaehyun,” you say. Even you can hear the uncertainty. The atmosphere is so tense that you didn’t even notice the room has cleared out; the area is curtained off, a special exhibition inside the actual exhibition, for a yet-to-be-discovered artist who gained the space to present their art through chance. The few people who had mingled here had quietly left, identifying the situation as a lover’s spat. Anyone could walk in. Anyone. The realization makes your heart skip a beat. “You understand that, don’t you?”

Your words make sense, yet your actions don’t. You unconsciously inch closer to him. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t. “You’re confusing me,” Jaehyun responds, sounding frustrated, but when his hands find your waist, his touch is careful. Gentle. Like a collector in awe of the precious rare item he has found. “I thought you hated my guts. You know, that’s the kind of interpretation a break-up letter entails.”

“Jaehyun,” you whisper. You want to rip his hands off, leave him here to come to terms with the realization that this relationship is over. It had been such a difficult situation, and so painful; to rip the band-aid off in the manner that you did. You hadn’t even told Jeonghan about the reason you broke it off, so afraid of the consequences, yet more afraid of the repercussions of your relationship to Jaehyun’s career. You needed to tell him off now, before you do something you would regret. You do none of these things, however. You let Jeong Jaehyun cradle your face in the middle of the gallery as if nothing has changed and the two of you are eternal and you have never been apart. Something inside of you reaches for his soul, across the gaping abyss that forced mythological Orpheus and Eurydice apart. You let him bring your face close enough that he can press his cheek against yours, mimicking Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss hanging in the hall outside. A sweet irony. It had always been your favorite painting, and you know there was a copy of it hanging in Jaehyun’s living room, bought by you for an anniversary long past. His lips trace the lines of your cheekbones, feeding the selfish ache inside you that is always desperate for Jaehyun. “It doesn’t matter. I’m with a different man.”

The answer makes Jaehyun draw in a sharp breath, but his ministrations continue on; as if his love for you was an instinct he was chasing after unconsciously. His lips trail a burning path across your face, his fingers curling at your nape. Lulling you in. Entrancing you. “At the risk of sounding like an asshole - I don’t care,” he murmurs against your skin, the words reverberating in your blood. “I would give anything for being able to touch you like this. Even if this is the last time.”

You screw your eyes shut. Even if this is the last time. Almost mechanically, you raise your arms to draw him against you, your bodies lining up perfectly; you had always secretly enjoyed how well you guys fit together. A perfect match. When you had dropped him off at that airport, you had been robbed of truly saying goodbye to him. Coming home late, almost oversleeping and missing his flight, riding in separate cars because the staff had piled into the seats of which at least one should have been reserved for you. You couldn’t even kiss him goodbye - you had let go of Jaehyun with a heavy heart, a mind full of anxieties turning over all the threats you had received not only digitally, but now even physically, and with a mouth full of lies. This is the last time. You look up at the same time as Jaehyun decides to throw all caution against the wind, bowing his head to inch closer. “Let me kiss you, please,” he whispers, the desperation in his voice so heady it makes you feel drunk. “May I kiss you?”

You draw in a sharp, shuddering breath, and murmur your assent. As if this had been a decision and not a stabbing, sharp need below your chest. “Yes. Yes, Jaehyun.”

Your lips meet his halfway, although meet is the wrong words. It’s a crash and burn, two stars folding around one another and exploding in a supernova; there is nothing human about the way Jaehyun hungrily devours the surprised gasp you let out. His kiss is all fire and blood and teeth, the messy clacking of two people who had been made to love each other once and then cut apart by fate. Your hastily sucked in breaths keep getting interrupted every time Jaehyun kisses you again, and again, and again. It’s a sweet torture, and a productive one. By the time he has dragged you against a wall you are lightheaded and out of it, your skin prickling with the feeling of Jaehyun mapping out his way. “Oh sweetheart,” he sighs out against your collarbone, his teeth painting markings across your chest. You barely even register him falling to his knees. “I could die tomorrow and be a happy man.”

“What are you doing?” You ask him, dazed. Your hands find his shoulders (has he become even broader? You seriously need to have a talk with Johnny and the gym routine he forces Jaehyun through). Despite your confusion, your body remembers Jaehyun. You barely even think about following his guidance, complying almost immediately when he taps against your waist so that you raise your leg and angle it over his shoulder. The belated realization makes you blush heavily; your addled mind cannot keep up with your body’s compliance. “Jeong Jaehyun! Are you insane?”

You intended to sound fierce and reprimanding, but when you finally look down to meet his gaze, your knees almost buckle. Jaehyun looks like a man starved, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, the irises blown wide to ensure every detail of you is burned into his recollection. He looks like a worshipper, and his hands move across the supple flesh of your thighs as if in prayer. Blasphemous and heavenly. And incredibly dangerous. You can still hear the loud chatter of the other guests behind the curtain, just across the room. The nervousness makes your veins thrum. “Baby,” he says, sounding genuinely disbelieving. “Do you honestly think I won’t use this chance to taste you one last time? I don’t know what made you tolerate me suddenly, but I am not going to be the idiot that ruins the opportunity. You’ll let me go down on you, won’t you, sweetheart?”

The term of endearment makes you all fuzzy-minded and giddy. “I … yes … But anyone could walk in…” you nervously start, and yet you angle your hips forward so that Jaehyun can tug down your black lace panties, barely noticing that he tucks them inside his suit pockets. “And we’re not supposed to … I mean, I shouldn’t …. Jesus, Jae!”

In the middle of your feeble attempt of climbing back to the moral highground, Jaehyun had positioned himself right at your core; your hands fumble to hold on to his shoulders before he kisses your vulva way too innocently for a man who’s currently going down on you in the middle of a public art gallery. You barely remember to lean back against the wall for support before Jaehyun dives in like you are the last meal he is ever permitted to have on this earth, and he is determined to make it last.

You bite back a cry when Jaehyun finally laps at you, the torturous kitten lick lighting your entire body aflame with want. Although Jaehyun immediately follows it up by generously sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves, you cast aside all pretense of decorum due to your greed and dig your fingers in his hair to direct him closer, much closer, and Jaehyun moans. The sound is so delicious it makes your veins burn with desire, the physical pain of craving him running almost hotter than your need to be pleasured. Keyword almost. You wanted to come all over his mouth just for that delicious fucking noise, but your stomach was tensing up, the quick arousal accomplished by the serious lack of sex and masturbation that the past few months had been for you. Jaehyun’s hands claw at your knees, climbing to your thighs, forcing your legs wide open to welcome his fingers where he drags them across your all-too-welcoming entrance. “So wet,” he groans against your core, and you whimper at the vibration, bucking against his lips. Even though he loves to run his mouth during sex, he gets it to work anyways. Jaehyun laps up your sweetness as it drips down, his thumb flicking at your sensitive spots until he has you keening and tearing at his hair. “God, sweetheart, look at what a mess you’re making. You’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Jaehyun,” you gasp when he finally dives his tongue into you, the muscle pumping in mock-fashion of what he would love to do to you. The compliments are doing insane things to you and your heart, your poor heart that is going to cling to this moment forever. While Jaehyun’s fingers work their magic, your own begin to spasm, pulling and tearing at him. Submitting to you and your feral hunger he finally adds a finger, his right hand busy with fingering you while his left hands continues to trace circles over your clitoris. The sudden penetration has you remembering that his own digits are way longer than yours, the memory accompanying the sensation of him reaching further and further until he finds the right spot that has you bowing over him with a loud moan. This is what you missed, what you were imagining when you were daydreaming about sex, daydreaming about the godly way Jaehyun pounded you into the mattress. He knows he’s got you now, speeding up his ministrations at every noise you make. You screw your eyes shut with a bone-deep shudder, the sweet tension inside your abdomen pulling tighter and tighter in a familiar tell-tale sign. “Jaehyun, slow down, fuck!”

He’s curling his fingers, eager for your approval, hungry for more noises - through your blurry eyes, you realize he’s watching you through it all, the gaze of a predator. Not once does he look away, continuing his sweet song of praise. “So beautiful,” he coos against your pussy, pressing close so he can speak the words into your skin, your soul. In your state, it almost sounds like Jaehyun is the only thing in your world, and hasn’t it always been? The miracle in your life that you surrendered all your worship to? You lurch forward when he sucks your clit into his mouth, seeing white for a second, the stimulation becoming too much. “Keep looking at me, please. Wanna watch you when you come.”

“I…. can’t!” you manage to babble, realizing you are edging closer to your climax. You’ve never once been this quick, not with anyone but with Jaehyun; the only man in your life that knew every inch of you, the very shape of your soul. Your body is as familiar to him as the back of your hand; more familiar to him than his own self. Jaehyun is too impatient to deal with your arguments, though. “You can,” he hisses against you, dragging his fingers more fervently. Your warm walls tighten around them, hungrily trying to keep them in, to keep going. The sudden clenching around his fingers makes it difficult. “Look at me and cum or you won’t get to cum at all, I swear it.”

That’s all it takes for you to finally let go, almost weeping with the overwhelming pleasure. Your orgasm washes over you almost too violently, forced on by Jaehyun’s overstimulation as he keeps going and going and going, and by the time you push him off your sensitive pussy there are tears falling from your eyes. But you drag him close and kiss him, kiss him so hard you think he’s going to bruise, and Jaehyun lets you; it is much sweeter and patient than the beginning of the altercation, so sweet on your tongue it has you melting against Jaehyun. This is it, that adrenaline you kept chasing; true, painful, but worth it love. You feel too sensitive and too aware and too alight, but you wrap your arms around him all the same, as if you can keep him forever. Your kisses reach inside of him, desperate for connection, heavy with the longing that had accompanied you everywhere ever since you left him. You think you were born to love Jeong Jaehyun, and you kiss him as if you are Eve reaching for the forbidden apple - knowing it’s wrong, wanting it anyway. You want and you want and you want. Your hands are on his soft cheeks, dragging against his shoulders, careless, loving. You love Jeong Jaehyun, love him so much that your very existence is exploding from the inherent triumph that accompanied witnessing him.

You think you would gladly go to hell for tasting divinity on Jaehyun’s lips. You’d rather be a sinner than apart from him for being a saint.

When you finally tear away from him, Jaehyun’s lips are swollen(your heart almost fails at the sheer pleasure that sight gives you). He lets you drag your thumb across the kiss-stained lip, wiping away the lipstick, tracing his jawline. “Such a beautiful face,” you tell him, watching as he preens from the affection. Your heart to yearns to give him more, but you finally force yourself to step away before you die from the overdosis that is Jaehyun. He watches you, completely out of it. “This is the last time,” you remind him. The lie comes so easily now, even though you are trying to memorize his gorgeous face, tattooing it across your mind palace. You will never forget this, no matter what illness or loss comes for you. Not Jeong Jaehyun. “The last time, okay, Jae?”

You place your hand over his heart, and he places his own above it. For a moment, the situation feels eternal. You were in love and you were both idiots, but it was okay because you were handling it together. Because you would face all the challenges together. Because you would work towards a future together. But the spell is broken soon, and you make the first step back, biting your lip at the sadness resurfacing in his eyes. Jaehyun, you think. The only man you’ve ever entrusted your heart with like this.

“Okay,” he finally answers, helpless. He holds on to your hand, though, making the last few steps to follow you before he is forced to let you go. You turn back at the last second before you enter the main hall, just to see if he is looking away, but there he stands, watching you.

His face is forlorn, softened by his quiet sadness, and your heart breaks again. You leave him there before you can do something else you regret.

When Jaehyun had fallen in love you, he knew he was in for some deep shit.

Picking you up had become a natural habit now. You had long since stopped calling your brother and instead resorted to texting Jaehyun first. It felt like an honor, to be entrusted with your care. That you’ve started to know him in a way that makes you rely on him. Picking you up had led to late-night-drives to sober you up, late-night-drives had turned into a shared breakfast the next morning when Jaehyun was worried about you having hangovers, and fussing over you had turn into regular meet-ups because Jaehyun could no longer deny that what he craved was not reassurance of your well-being, but you in person.

He remembered one morning where he had slept over after a particularly nasty crash-out. You had been laughing and weeping incoherently, your friend Karina aiding him with the information that you had failed your exam and drowned yourself in booze. He had texted DK a “FYI, your sister’s puking her guts out in my apartment” after deciding his home was closer than yours and you wouldn’t last long enough to throw up in your own toilet, before he had sat there with you and braided your hair back while you emptied out your entire stomach. The next morning, when he had woken up to you cuddled up to him still on the bathroom floor, he had carried you to his bed, tucked you in and walked into the kitchen to cook hangover soup, something he had mastered by this point due to the amount of times Mark had familiarized himself with that toilet just like you did last night. Having checked his phone, he read your brother’s only response: “LOL. didn’t even realize she left party”

You had wandered in shortly after, sleepy and pale like a ghost. The sound of your footsteps had startled Jaehyun, but his surprise had turned into a sudden happiness at the sight of your eyes lighting up when you saw him. The realization that his presence made you as happy as yours made him was invaluable. He loved the kind of person he was when you guys were together; existing felt like floating, a light cloud of pure contentment.

Even though there hadn’t been a lot of talking, you had both been deeply comfortable. That was the very first time he had kissed you; when you couldn’t stop singing his praises after claiming his soup was too tasty, he had simply leant over and shut you up himself. It was almost funny at how quickly you had dropped that spoon, tugging at his pyjama shirt to pull him closer, damn right pulling him over the counter. Not that he was complaining. He loved the way you made him feel, the way your touch made it feel like there were stars blooming below his skin. It made him feel like the brightest sun in the sky. “Why did you do that?” you had immediately asked when he finally pulled back. Jaehyun had cradled your face, realizing he was holding his entire world in the palm of his hand. “I just suddenly understood that I want to hold your hair back for you for the rest of my life,” he had admitted then, earning himself a slap to the shoulder. But you had laughed, that pure boisterous laugh that sparked with joy, and his heart had pounded in his chest: unable to handle the luck he was experiencing.

The mornings had blurred into days, the days into weeks, finally bleeding into the most happiest months of Jaehyun’s life. He’d never been cautious, but you had certainly made him braver. Sudden shenanigans in public, joking around entirely too loud during important events, having fun everywhere you guys were together. You had made him believe there were no honeymoon phases. Jaehyun woke and rose in the morning, and went to sleep in the dawn obsessed with you. There were rough patches, stressful and grieving periods when your private lives had been rocked particularly hard with a certain event, but he never once stopped adoring you. You were in every waking breath, every racing heartbeat.

Even now, as he wakes the day after your goodbye in the art gallery, he wakes up with the taste of hope in his mouth, of the shape of your heart on the tip of his tongue. He wakes still dreaming, always dreaming of you.

“So what you’re saying,” states Johnny, twirling a biscuit around in his coffee, “is that you had sex with your ex-girlfriend in a public museum, fully knowing she’s dating someone else.”

“Johnny,” comes the muffled response from where Jaehyun hides his face in his hands. It’s too beautiful of a day. It should be raining, to reflect Jaehyun’s mood, to encompass this entirely too awkward feeling of knowing Jaehyun was still in love with his ex. He had spent the entire morning racking his brain for ideas to get rid of the other man, feeling like Lana del Rey in her worst situationships. Jaehyun has reached a very new low, the kind of pathetic that makes him not care that he’s embarrassing himself by still being at your beck-and-call. “It wasn’t sex.”

Johnny waves the retort away. “Oral sex, then. Still sex.” The comment is too loud and earns Johnny some weirded-out looks, but the man looks completely unbothered. He had once watched Johnny talk about different sex positions completely seriously while standing in line for gelato in Little Italy, back when they had visited New York together. Johnny Suh did not know what shame was. “I never even knew you were freaky like that. Little exhibitionist freak. Maybe I underestimated you.”

“Johnny,” Jaehyun deadpanned. “Is this the time to be making jokes? Can we get to the point?”

“What point, dude? You basically went on your knees and asked her to take you back, and she didn’t. I didn’t realize you wanted me to throw salt into the wound.”

Jaehyun lowers his head to the tabletop, resting his too warm face against the metal surface. He doesn’t dare close his eyes, because the image of you is burned into his eyelids. He feels like an addict itching for a quick fix. It had been like this the entire week now. It was one thing to be ghosted by you and forced to move on by the lack of interaction, and another to be making out with you and getting his hopes up despite the fact you told him this was the last time. All it did was make him delusional enough to think he could convince you for it not to be. “She didn’t say no,” he tells Johnny, sounding pitiable even to him. “She just told me this had to be the last time.”

A few seconds pass before Jaehyun finally raises his head due to the lack of answer from his best friend. The look Johnny gives him tells him is answer enough, and Jaehyun pulls a grimace. He hadn’t expected of Johnny to be feeding into his delusions, but there had been some hope. Hope for you to call. Hope for you to come back. Hope for you to still want him.

You hadn’t unfollowed him yet; you hadn’t posted in days; and your brother has kindly snitched to him that you’ve even been blowing off Junseo. He knows you have finals coming up soon, but thinking rationally was something Jaehyun severely lacked at the moment. He had been entertaining the idea that the … meeting, for a lack of better words, in the museum had shaken you up as much as it did him. He kept replaying the memory in his head, the way your plush thighs had trapped him there on his knees, your pretty lips jutted in a pout, the tears falling from your eyes from the way he was making you feel so good … he almost felt himself get hard again, but quickly killed the boner by thinking of something else. “I just wish she’d be more clear,” he sighs out. At the sight of Johnny raising his eyebrows, he clarifies: “I mean that she’s playing hot and cold with me. I’m not stupid enough to not realize she does want to put an end to this. And yet she’s the one that followed me on Instagram, and kissed me, and made me fall all over again for her. I wasn’t doing well before I saw her again, but I was going somewhere.”

“Somewhere,” Johnny repeats, his tone mocking, but then he sets down the biscuit that had come with his coffee. This is what Jaehyun liked about him the most. He considered everything and thought about everything carefully before giving his honest opinion, and even though he sure as hell wasn’t unbiased, he still tried his best to be. “I guess,” Johnny concurs then. “I guess that’s true. I just think there must be a reason to this. I haven’t known her half as long as you do, but we were friends once, and she never once acted as irrationally as she did this past year.”

Jaehyun perked up at that. It was true, at least. In the weeks leading up to your break-up, as well as the months afterwards, you had been acting incredibly off, to the point that even your close ones had been questioning your case. He hadn’t realized how keen Johnny’s observations could be. “So you think she’s going through something that she couldn’t tell me?” he asks, his voice tentative.

Johnny shrugs. “That sounds like the most logical explanation to me. So you either hook up with her again and question her while you’re at it, or you start looking up ways to get rid of Junseo, I guess.” The suggestion makes Johnny’s face light up with excitement. “Dude, I actually always wanted to hire an assassin on the dark web. Do you think we can do that?”

“No, you idiot,” Jaehyun hisses back. But the gears in his head are already turning, chipping away at the past year, at your secret glances and your guilty letter and the sadness in your eyes when you had let him go. He had always thought that even though you had been decisive, you had at least been sad for not being able to love him in the way he deserved to be loved anymore. now he wonders how selfish he has been, and whether he should have been texting his ex all along instead of grieving what was.

Well. Jaehyun thought it couldn’t hurt to try.

Jeonghan sees him before you do.

It’s the way your best friend immediately starts cackling and turns back around to walk back into the library. You halt in your movements, looking at him imploringly. “Your ex, dude,” he tells you, visibly enjoying the way you immediately enter full-panic-mode. “You’re on your own.”

Your panicked “Hannie!” is drowned out by his snickers, and Jeonghan leaves you to your distress to pretend going to the bathroom. You met Jeonghan years ago, and even though he was older than you, you had become such fast friends that DK threatened to beat you guys up for laughing too loud whenever you were over at their dorms. He was your stupid older unnecessary brother that loved you more than anything, but he is also the most brutally honest one out of all of your friends. You do not go to Jeonghan for advice if you aren’t able to handle the truth. He cuts to the chase real quick and will call you out on your bullshit.

It’s also why he immediately told you that your plan wasn’t going to work out. “Let’s not pretend this is the most lovey-dovey you’ve ever been in your life,” Jeonghan had told you with a straight face. You wince at the memory; Jeonghan’s words are able to tear down buildings. “You love-love that man. You’re in deep, deep shit. Whatever it is you don’t want to tell me about, the thing that made you think up this idiotic plan in the first place, it won’t be able to amount to the feelings you have for him.”

Yes, you love-love him; you know just as much, and your heart sings with that knowledge. It pinches and tingles beneath your ribs, calling out a certain name. It rejoices at the sight of Jaehyun out there, in the rain, wearing not even a jacket but instead jeans and a hoodie that looks large even on him, and a bouquet in his hands. But you love him enough not to want to be selfish enough to endanger him.

The messages had blown up your instant message box for weeks then, each threat becoming more explicit. At first, you had resorted to deleting them. They were all the same at their core, anyways, the same hatred being spewed with different names. But then one persistent account had started attaching pictures to their messages, waking you up from the rose-tinted dream that was being in love with Jaehyun. Pictures of him at private events, including the other band members as well, even the youngest ones who were innocent. You hadn’t responded, but the fear had you making hasty plans; setting up everything carefully, writing the letter, while you prepared to leave Jaehyun in the most respectful way you could imagine because that is what you owed him. But then pictures of his own rented studio inside SM building had started popping up, a room you knew no one but Jaehyun and his aides should have access to, one single message with one ominous threat: Leave him or I’ll ruin the both of you. His life’s work being killed will be your fault.

Your lack of answer surely had made them furious.

You didn’t know whether to approach the managers, or even the police. Stalkers weren’t unheard of in the industry, one being caught and sued almost weekly by now, and Jaehyun had cycled through his fair share of them. No one had ever went for you in that way, though. You were certain that this wasn’t a singular threat, certain that this was someone who would pull out all stops to get rid of you. SM Entertainment was more tightly under lock and key than a literal jail. This person knew what they were doing. And so you did what you thought was right, at the cost of your own wellbeing. How much you had sacrificed and cried after distancing yourself from the man you considered your heart.

And yet here he was.

You shake the umbrella open before stepping out of the library, into the rain. In three quick strides, you’ve reached him. You try to convince yourself you’re just eager to be rid of him, but the corners of your lips quirk up way too happily for your brain to believe that. “Is this your equivalent of a boombox outside my window?” you question.

Jaehyun smiles, and it untangles the heavy knot of dread inside of you. The weather is awful, but you feel warm, spreading inside your chest like the soothing effects of medicine. “It kind of is,” he answers. He sounds like he is carefully weighing his words, but his voice is gentle. “I didn’t know which one your window was. And entering the building to go visit you in your apartment seemed creepy to even me.”

You tentatively reach out, brushing your fingers over the roses. They’re a deep red, plush and freshly bloomed. Expensive. Junseo has never even got you a three-dollar-bundle of flowers from the grocery store. “You know, I already have someone who’s giving me flowers,” you tell him, but the threat is empty. Every inch of you is bursting with happiness. Jaehyun is here, even though it’s the middle of the night and the weather is completely awful, just to give you roses.

(You never even make the connection someone must have told him you’re here. (DK was shitting himself for days in fear of you finding out he was the tattletale.)

Jaehyun hands you the bouquet, his hands covering your own as you grasp it. You watch him as he takes the opportunity to step closer to you, never once reprimanding him. His face is open and trusting, and the force of his loving gaze hits you right in the chest. “I know,” he retorts. “And the thought is killing me. It should be me. And so I will. I will keep buying you roses until you ask me to stop, sweetheart, because I don’t mind if you forget about me, but I was made to adore you. I can’t ignore my instincts.”

The confession does funny things to your heart, in a way that makes you beam at him for the first time in months. You haven’t smiled like this in so long, and your cheeks hurt from the lack of practise. Jaehyun, the damn fool; Jaehyun, the hopeless romantic; Jaehyun, the love of your life. “Killing you,” you muse, entertaining him. You are playing with fire, you realize, but you are coming to the understanding that even though you had made a decision for him in a completely unfair manner, because you felt threatened to do so, Jaehyun still chooses you. And he continues to choose you. He has respected your wishes, has kept his distance despite the grief you have caused him, and has only re-entered your life because you allowed him to do so. It was your own self-doubt about being the one for him that had forced your hand and made you not ask him for help about the threats; and despite the fact Jaehyun never understood why, he had still reassured you.

“Do you honestly mean that?” you ask him, even though you know what his answer will be. Even though your heart has always chosen him, this sweet boy who knew just what to say to cheer you up. Who listened when you talked. Who bought you gifts just because you mentioned liking some trinket in passing. Who remembers to kiss you every morning before you leave the house, even if it means dragging himself out of bed at 5am in the morning just to see you off because he knows he won’t see you the entire day. Who leaves little notes around the house for you to find when he is too busy to be with you. Jaehyun, your Jaehyun.

“I will always, always mean it,” he answers in the most earnest way possible. “I’ve been thinking about you all this time. I know how pathetic this sounds, but all this time, I kept envisioning you, and the thought of you kept me going even though I knew you weren’t a part of my life anymore. I like the person you made me become, sweetheart, and the way you have helped me shape my life into something I can be proud of. I just wish I had realized sooner that there was something bothering you - because there is, right?” His fingers gently squeeze yours in encouragement, and your little nod makes him press on. “I’m sorry,” he says, and surprises you. “I’m sorry for being so in love with your good and pure heart and failing to realize that it burdened you, despite how good and pure it was. You were going through something that you couldn’t handle, and I couldn’t see it, and I’m sorry.”

You tug at Jaehyun’s hands. His instantaneous, responding smile makes your heart skip a beat, and he lets you pull him down until you can press your lips to his soft, dimpled cheek. “You’re such a sore loser, Jeong Jaehyun,” you whisper then, but you loosen a hand from the bouquet and place it against his cheek to keep him there. To treasure him. “And such a sweet little idiot. You don’t have to apologize about a single thing to me.” He smells like home, like the only home you’ve ever known. Jaehyun hums, and nods in assent to the insults, and the agreement makes you laugh. You kiss his cheek again, and again, and again, until Jaehyun’s impatience makes him turn his head and kiss you so urgently that your head feels like it’s spinning. “Jaehyun,” you sigh into the kiss, feeling his teeth nip at your lower lip, feeling his hands close around your heart.

You have never felt so safe.

Jaehyun rests his forehead against yours, the pouring rain cascading around you both. “Does that mean I can kill your little boy toy now?” he asks, but you only smack him and smile shyly, your face radiant with adoration for him. “I am going to resolve some things first,” you tell him. “Until then, no murder.”

“And after that?”

“After that,” you say, “I am going to prove that my heart has always belonged to you, Jeong Jaehyun. Even when I made you doubt that.”

(For your information, Jeonghan has recorded that entire interaction and forwarded it to Johnny without context. Johnny had texted him back almost seconds later, asking, Who’s this and how’d you get my number? Hannie’s response, as you discover after he had confessed his betrayal, was I have my ways.)

Jaehyun,

I realize me writing another letter is cruel and ironic, but hear me out, please.

When I wrote my first letter, it was with the selfish intention of at least something of mine remaining with you. By the time you read this, I’ll hopefully have gathered enough evidence to explain my case to you and maybe have the guts to ask you to accompany me to the police, but what I first want to reiterate is: I love you. I love you the point of self-sacrifice. I love you enough that I turned my back on being selfless anyways and selfishly chose you, because you are the most important person in my heart. You will always come first.

When I wrote that letter to break up with you, I imagined a piece of myself embedding itself in the ink so that at least something could remain forever. In my mind, you were never ephemeral: no matter how many times I changed my paths and adjusted my future, it has always included you. I never once imagined building a life for myself that didn’t have you as its brilliant, shining center piece, the light of my life, my Jaehyun. I’ve always been afraid of falling in love head-first, always afraid of loving more than the other, but you have proven me wrong. And I love being proven wrong by you. I love the fact that you fiercely, sincerely, and lovingly pull me back to reality every time. Reality with you is more perfect than anything I could have ever dreamed of.

Since my first letter was supposed to be a goodbye, I want this letter to be proof that I choose to greet the future with you. I want this letter to be proof that I will never need a letter again. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and telling you about it, and I will reassure you of that always, in the same manner as you have always me reassured me. You told me that my heart was good and pure, but I genuinely believe that I am constantly reflecting back what you give me: your kindness, Jae, your sincerity, your unbelievable humanity.

You are the only man I ever want roses in my life from, and that will never change. :) So if you finish reading this, stop creeping on my Instagram waiting for me to drop the other man and come bring me another bouquet so I can prove to you there has never been another. You are the only one in my heart.

With love,

your sweetheart

[joyaphoria]

the first time you and bokuto met, you guys were ten. you had just moved to tokyo and your mom got a job at the same place bokuto's mom worked. they became friends almost instantly, and once they realized they had children the same age, a play date was set immediately.

contrary to popular belief, you guys didn't get along well at all. bokuto was a stubborn child; he wanted to be outside playing volleyball with his friends, and the idea of having to stay inside to acquaint himself with a little girl that probably didn't know a thing about the sport seemed catastrophic.

he was right after all — you didn't know (or even care) about bokuto's treasured sport, and you were just as fond of being there as he was. you'd give anything to be at home, burying your face in some mangas, or playing piano.

you fought like cats and dogs the first four years after you guys met, both at school and outside of it, since your houses were close and your families were even closer. unfortunately, keeping a distance was just never an option.

the first time you and bokuto had ever gotten along (if you could even call it that), was when you turned fifteen. bokuto was invited to your party by default, as well as everyone in your homeroom class by your mother's request, nevermind the fact that you got along with hardly any of them.

you had just finished helping yours and bokuto's mom in the kitchen with prepping the food, and made your way back to the living room to check on your guests.

you froze in place once you caught them grouping around your piano, realizing that you forgot to put away your piano books.

you've always been big in the arts, but piano was your thing. you liked to think of yourself of a composer of sorts, writing sheet music and occasionally adding a few lyrics.

you would've thought you might have learned from a similar incident a few years ago, when you caught bokuto reading through your sheet music. though he never said anything — never hinted at any emotion at all — you still ended up a sobbing mess.

this however, was very different. they were snickering and laughing, pointing at the lyrics and your 'odd penmanship', trying to make out the words on the paper. you felt the tears swelling up in your eyes already, your hands trembling as you find yourself glued in place.

before you could even blink, a familiar figure's shoving past you into the room, and you watch as bokuto snatches the sheet music from the boy holding them.

he laughs then, snickering at bokuto before looking over at you. "hey, y/n, did you write all this bull—"

there is a fist colliding with his nose in less than half a second.

all the girls shriek and shove at each other as they back away from the commotion, screaming as bokuto scrambles on top of the boy, maintaining the upper hand from the very beginning.

you watch them fight, bokuto sporting a split lip and bruised fists as his mother runs in and yanks him off of the boy, your mother rushing in behind his to assess the situation.

you're utterly confused, even more so once he turns to find your eyes, and the side of his lip quirks up into a lopsided smirk.

later once everyone leaves and situation was managed and dealt with, you find yourself staring once again, as he takes a cotton ball to his bloody lip, and runs his fists under the tap.

once he turns off the water and looks up to address you, you catch sight of that intoxicating smile yet again, and you don't even need to ask anything. bokuto can read the question right off your face.

"can't have anyone else reading the songs you write about me now, can we?"

what if i turned this into a short written series, the five years of bokuto and y/n as enemies until this happens and everything changes?

composed

[sweetbrier2908]

HIS EYES

Lucifer

Lucifer's eyes are like two rubies on fire. There is always something in those eyes - pride, wrath, trust, fear, protection, regret - there is always something in Lucifer's eyes, there is always a burning fire in Lucifer's eyes. That is something you always know since the moment you saw him.

You know all too well that fire is going to burn you. The fire inside him is similar to the fire presented in those ruby-red eyes. The fire is going to burn you the same way it used to burn those pure white feathers. You know too well, all too well, when he looks in your eyes.

But the fire leads you to touch those fingers covered in black velvet, but the fire leads you to those cold thin lips, but the fire leads you to his bed and the fire leads him to you.

Lucifer's eyes are still two rubies on fire. For the first time ever, you have seen your reflection in that fire.

[moongothic]

Going through the more recent SBS and I remember seeing people complain about Oda not dwelling into the implications of Tama being from the Kurozumi clan in the story, only leaving a hint in the manga and then confirming it in the SBS

And like yeah, it's a shame it wasn't really discussed in the story itself, but as Oda does say in the SBS, "How would people react if they found out that O-Tama was from the Kurozumi Family? Please use your imagination. This has been a problem throughout human history that continues to this day."

As in, yes, there is a potential story in there Oda could tell

But he has already told that story in One Piece

Multiple times

A child is not responsible for the crimes of the parent (or other relatives in this case), "evil blood" does not exist. Oda could have explored how Tama's heritage could impact her life, but we've already seen how that might play out, that Tama could've become a victim of abuse and resentment from the people of Wano despite being innocent. But then what? Either we watch Tama become a victim and suffer just to drive in a message we already know, or we end up having to spend much, MUCH longer at Wano to put more focus on a side-character's story and try to resolve the issue and stop cycle of abuse by making the people accept Tama. (And we've already had stories about that too sorta)

Like don't get me wrong, if Toei had wanted to like do a full dedicated filler episode deep diving into this subject, I think that could have been great and made for a great filler episode. It's just that considdering how bloody long Wano already was, I don't think not dwelling on Tama's heritage was a loss by any means, or a mistake in writing on Oda's part.

[thelastsirenssong]

Thoughts on returning from a hero gala with Bakugou?

The evening was full of shouts and guffaws, pats on his back, hands that shook his in congratulations, and silent challenge, that those hands may surpass him in the future, while he smiled on. Invigorated, by the promise of getting to stand over them once again in the years to come. But as the night went on things died down, and like a true hero Deku was the last to leave, helping staff pick up after the event, and Bakugou, like a true rival, insisted on helping better than him, as a soft drizzle began outside, so that when you said your goodbyes and entered the valet car, the moon was full, and the rain mild, as you drove home, your head on his chest, his hand tangled in yours. The weather in Japan tends to turn cold with a bright and rising sun, ever characteristic of the country. But today it made the leap with cloud and distant thunder, and you tuck yourself further into his chest as you drive through the glistening city.

"You cold?" He grunts the question into your ear, and you shrug, even in the heating of the vehicle and your shivering, and he grunts again and pushes you gently off of him as you protest lightly with a soft whine.

"Aw shut the hell up, it's just for a sec." And it is, you are separated from him for just a moment as he makes quick work of his grey suit jacket, throwing it over your shoulders and scowling as he adjusts it, tugging the lapels over your chest.

"Feel better?" You look into his eyes, scarlet gone wine dark in the frigid evening storm, and his focus on you is something unfamiliar, something that reads like a rough draft of a story you already know the ending to, and you squirm, and avert your gaze, uncomfortable under the intensity.

"I guess," you mutter, and he scoffs a laugh, pulling your head back into him as you sigh, and he places his chin gently over you.

"Next time remind me not to give it to you, ungrateful ass." He's smiling, you feel it in his thumb, where it needles gently at the back of your hand.

"You have a good time?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Was proud to see you up there."

"You fuckin' better be."

"And to see you help clean up, after the fact."

"Was just beating Deku to it."

You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back, drawing himself closer to you, impossibly. You feel his quickened heartbeat in the grip he has on you, and you squeeze his hand again, to reassure, but his grip stays just as tight.

"Listen."

You hum in question, and you feel it, whatever nitroglycerin like substance produced by his palms stains your own fingerprints. He's breaking out into a sweat, in the frigid early winter air.

"Katsuki?"

A million lights twinkle, they all pass in a blinding blur, as the rain turns to sleet.

"Don't ever let me get soft, you hear me? 'M never not gonna be at the top, so don't let me fucking slack."

You laugh, something soft, and bright, and true. "You'll always be number one to me, Katsuki, slacking or not."

"Not the fucking point." His eyes read of nonfiction, and of fairytale, combined impossibility in the truth of his unwavering gaze. Confidence, that denotes raw honestly. He will never leave you- and he begs this silent, desperate plea: that in this car, and in the words unsaid inbetween puffed breath, you make and honor the same vow. You run your thumb over the back of his hand, and it grows hotter.

"Okay."

The sleet falls, miserable and cold, and his coat keeps you warm, while your ear to his chest does the same for his heart.

[archivomeow]

all of the silence.

read on ao3 & important posts!

description; The BAU Team flies to a small town for a case, where Spencer Reid bumps into his ex-girlfriend Raelynn, who at first doesn’t want to talk with him, but the two make up, the adult way.

important; no smut, includes little aftercare, more description and plot to lead up to the end, second chance romance, NOT PROOF READ.

The new case brought the BAU Team to a small town - Rachdelle. The flight was quite long but good enough to discuss the details of the new case.

„So, we have two women that look alike, so the unsub has a type.” JJ spoke as her eyes scanned the files in front of her.

„So his first victim looked like that or they’re surrogates.” Emily added as she looked around the room briefly. „Okay, so JJ and Alvez go to the first crime scene, David and I will go to the latest and Tara, Spencer you guys can go to the precinct and talk to the victims families.”

The Team landed and they all went their own way. Spencer and Tara headed to the precinct where they were welcomed by the Sheriff. The two got settled in, now it was time to talk with the family members of each of the victims.

“We have a professional there right now, but I will pull her put, Raelynn is a local psychologist and she sometimes helps out when it comes to talking with the families.” The Sheriff explained as he guided Tara and Spencer, the three entered the room.

The room was small, it had a couch and two chairs in it, the first victims mother, Samantha, was seated on the couch and Raelynn next to her, she had dark brown hair and was of a small build, her head turned as the three walked into the room, her eyes settled on Spencer and his settled on her.

“Samantha these are… Dr. Spencer Reid and Dr. Tara Lewis, they’re with the FBI.” The Sheriff announced, the woman nodded at his words.

Raelynn’s eyes were still stuck on Spencer, it lasted for seconds, but felt like minutes or hours even, Tara glanced between the two and excused both the Sheriff and Raelynn from the room. When the interview was over Tara and Reid went to examine their results, which was pretty much nothing, the two women lived standard, peaceful lives.

“So, they were just two regular women, where could they meet the unsub? They didn’t have specific routines, so he couldn’t predict what they’ll do, even if he did stalk them.” Tara was thinking out loud, but when she was met with silence she looked over at Reid who was deep in him thoughts. “Reid?” He looked up at her.

“Um, I’m sorry, did you say something?” He shifted in the chair, he was doing his best to focus, but his mind was elsewhere, his judgment was clouded, simply because his mind was occupied by that one interaction. He felt his heart stop when he saw her face and she recognised him as well. His Rae…

Tara sat down next to him as she changed the topic.

“So, how do you know her?”

“What?”

“That psychologist… Raelynn.”

“Oh…” He paused for a brief moment. “We’re old friends… we lost touch when she went to college…”

Tara nodded. “If you want to talk with her, you can… we won’t do much here anyway, at least not until we have more clues.”

“No… It’s fine…”

The day passed quiet fast and the investigation wasn’t doing well, it was quite late and Reid was packing his things when he noticed her again, she stayed low the whole day, she was avoiding him, it was classical Rae, she hated confrontation, so she run from it, in this case it was running from Reid.

He took his bag and approached her, cutting off her way out of the building. Her brown eyes met his and she froze in her steps.

“Let me through, Reid.” She said softly, her voice was gentle, almost a whisper, but he heard her so well in an almost empty precinct, it was empty due to shift changes.

“No…” He shook his head, his eyes scanning her face carefully. “Why are you avoiding me?” His voice was firm, he didn’t plan on backing down.

“Because I don’t want to talk… I helped with the families, but that is it… I have to get home, let me through…” So he did, he moved to the side letting her walk and he walked behind her.

“So, where do you live now?” He asked a question, walking almost in sync with Rae.

“Like 15 minutes from here…” She sighed as she stood on the sidewalk and he stood with her.

“I’m waiting for a taxi, you don’t have to stand here with me.” She looked away, her face facing the street as the wind played with her brown waves. “Come on, Rae… Let me give you a ride… You’re cold, tired… I have to drive to the hotel, might as well drop you off on my way there.” She turned her face to him, her eyebrows frowned, she didn’t look happy, but he was right, a taxi was a long wait here, always.

So Reid dropped her off, his hotel was almost next to her home, so it worked perfectly. He unpacked his bags and took a shower, his mind still stuck on Raelynn, she didn’t talk much, they haven’t seen each other in years and she had nothing to say to him? He changed into sweats and a t-shirt, his hair was messy as he reread the case files, trying his best to make sure they didn’t miss anything. It was late, after midnight when it started to rain, it was pouring, so Reid was surprised when he heard a knock on his door, he was in bed by then, trying to force himself to fall asleep.

He opened the door, to see her small figure there, her hair was wet, so was her hoodie, she shook slightly as she breathed heavily.

“Hi…”

“Rae? You’re soaking wet…” He moved back from the door letting her in. “Come on…”

She took her hoodie off, her shift underneath was not as wet so she just stayed wearing that, she tied hair up in a low bun. Rae’s makeup was messy, her mascara was smudged probably from the rain.

“What are you doing here?” He rubbed his eye as he stared at the woman in shock. He put on the kettle to make tea and in the mean time he sat next to her on his bed. She didn’t know what to say, she just stared at him for a moment, taking in everything.

“I don’t know…I— I just…” She shrugged looking down.

The two sat in silence for a moment, before Reid went to make tea, when he came back she talked more.

“You still have it, huh?” She looked down at his neck, around it was a necklace she bought him, years ago. His fingers lightly brushed against the metal as he smiled lightly.

“You know… I never thought I’d see you again… I mean the world is pretty small, what are the chances, right?” She smiled lightly as she started to drink the hot tea.

“Rae… Why are you here?”

“What do you mean? I live here…”

“I mean my hotel room, not the town…”

“Right… I- Just needed a distraction… I thought you wanted to talk.”

“I do… I just… It’s been so long I’m not sure if we have what to talk about.”

“Oh… Okay…”

“I- I didn’t mean it like that… I just…”

“It’s fine.” She rolled her eyes as she got up from her seat. “I can just go… Good luck with the investigation.” She put down the half empty cup and walked out.

She didn’t go far as Reid went after her, the rain managed to soak her again, he grabbed her shoulder turning her around, his other hand landed on her waist as the two stared at each other.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” He whispered glancing at her lips, she glanced at his, in silence for a moment as she pulled him in for a kiss. The rain was still pouring as the two made out in the empty parking lot.

“Come back in…” Spencer whispered his face still close to hers as she breathed heavily.

Rae layed down in his hotel bed, sheets covering her body, her head rested on Reids chest as his fingers gently brushed through her hair and his other hand caressed her shoulder.

[nuclearanomaly]

9 – Fair

wc. 1389 | Post Endwalker, pre 6.1 ​

Ninira Nira, Warrior of Light, hero and saviour of the world does everything within her power to keep the people she loves safe. Tataru Taru, fashion designer, coin keeper, and notorious blackmailer, keeps Ninira safe.

Tataru Taru sat patiently in the elaborate sitting room. It was impressive, she thought, that they had been able to find and furnish such a property in such a short period of time. Though, knowing Ul'dahn merchants it was probably more likely that they had simply maintained ownership of the property despite being out of the country for the better part of 30 summers, give or take. Tataru still hadn’t found exact documentation of the couple’s leaving. 

She had only begun to make her move once she had finished wrapping up her details with the disbandment of the Scions, and once she had established where exactly the merchant couple had settled. She was pleased, and if not grateful, they had chosen a return to Ul'dah. She had briefly considered involving Estinien; an intimidating presence would have only helped her cause. But involving him required explanation. While she may have been able to get him to keep the details of this excursion secret, prying him away from Radz-at-Han would surely have caught Ninira’s attention. And beyond anything Tataru knew Ninira could not be involved in any way. 

She had sent the letter requesting an audience a fortnight past. Fortunately, with a few extra string-pulls her request from Tataru Taru’s Boutique for the organization of a deal for a supplier of dye for her skyrocketing fashion business had been worded in such a way that was sure to catch their eye, and catch it it did. Approval of the meeting, and a time had been sent back to her, exactly as she expected. And though she had been waiting a while in the sitting room, that was also to be expected, it was part of the game. The game that Tataru Taru had fooled them into thinking she was playing, a game that she was going to turn on it’s head. 

The Lalafellin couple entered, dressed in elaborate clothing and fine silks they radiated exquisiteness, perfection. Though Tataru felt smug knowing she had seen them a little more frazzled in Old Sharlayan after their arrival amidst the other Thavnarian refugees. Understandable, after the ordeal they went through, though she knew they deserved none of her sympathies. 

They took seats in the elaborate chairs across from her, impassive and professional as they regarded her. “Tataru Taru, of Tataru Taru’s Boutique I presume?” The lady spoke her voice cool, her tone suggesting she had perhaps expected more of the owner of a fashion business. 

Tataru smiled pleasantly. “Yes, what a pleasure it is to finally make your acquaintance. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me.”

The discussion began, amicably enough. Tataru laying out what she was looking for and what she expected for her business, while they responded in kind. What Tataru was waiting for, however, was the right question, the perfect opportunity to spring her trap and finally it came.

“If I may ask, how you happened to hear of us?” Tataru had learned quickly that the lady handled most of the talking. “We were not long back in Ul’dah when we received your letter, not many clients had heard fully of our move. It is impressive you knew where to find us.”

Tataru smiled. “While my business may be newly budding I have been keeping an eye on potential collaborators for a while now.” She admitted sweetly. “I happened to hear about you from… another under your employment at the time. Rurutsu Rutsu I believe her name was.”

This gave them pause, and though they remained mostly impassive Tataru clocked the brief look of shock on their face.

“I encountered her a while back now. Poking around in my business looking for answers regarding her clients missing daughter.”

The Lady’s eyes narrowed.

“If you’re wondering why you haven’t heard from her, fret not. While she came to no harm we came to a very quick understanding that should she continue to try and follow through on her clients request she would meet dire consequences. I compensated her for her work, as was deserved. Her contract with you is now void and she will not be speaking with you in the future.”

“You dare interfere with private–”

Tataru cut her off. “Hardly private. Apparently your contract contained no requests for privacy in the matter of your search for your daughter, so Rurutsu was very kind to disclose what details she knew of the request and you, to me.”

“The bitch.” The lady had gone so red faced with anger that her fake tan appeared splotchy, Tataru noticed, amused.

“She seems very capable, you hired a good hand so I suppose you don’t need me to tell you how foolish it would be to try and track her down. After that encounter, however, I started conducting some very thorough research. About you, your move from Ul'dah to Radz-at-Han, your attempts to exploit and control the import market on alchemical goods, your profits, your work ethic, your reputation and regard for your employees and clients, and of course your daughter. Incredible how she went missing so long ago and how unphased you seemed by that news of her disappearance, or even possibly her death.”

They both regarded her coolly. 

“The only puzzle I admit I have not yet figured out is why the sudden reinterest in her wellbeing.” Tataru shook her head. “Not that it matters. You’re not stupid and I suspect you have puzzled out a few new possible answers for her on your own. This is where I come in. I’m not here to talk about my business or yours. I’m here to strike a much different deal.”

“The Warrior of Light,” Tataru was not about to hand them Ninira’s name. True it would be easy enough to find if they wished it. Many people knew her identity, but Tataru was not about to let it be known from her. “Blessedly, remembers nothing about either of you. And I intend to keep it that way.” 

“As you may be aware from your brief stay over in Sharlayan—yes I was aware of you then as well—The Scions of the Seventh Dawn, saviors of the star, are a group of powerful individuals.” While the disbandment of the scions was official in the public eye she highly doubted either of these individuals had heard the news, or paid it any mind if they had. 

“Even more powerful are their connections. We have a well established repertoire with the city leaders, their soldiers, merchants, craftsmen, spanning the entire star. As official secretary to the scions I have dealt with many of these individuals personally and have their favour should I ever need to call upon it.”

Neither of the other Lalafell had so much as moved while she spoke, though Tataru suspected that should the lady narrow her eyes much further they would be reduced to slits. 

“I’ll cut to the chase. Consider this a cease and desist. If I catch so much as a hint that you have started to take action in the search for your daughter again. If I catch word that the Warrior of Light has become even marginally aware of your existence. I will not only end your business but I will crush your finances and scrape you for every last Gil of your worth.”

The lady’s hands had balled to fists in her lap, knuckles white. Even the man furrowed his brow at this remark.

“You may think my threats are hollow but I have it on good authority that the Saatrap of Radz-at-Han, the place you called home for so long, is willing to bring any and all documents of your time there to light. Whatever is needed to ensure the protection of the Warrior of Light.”

This made the man pale slightly and the lady sucked in a sharp breath. “You would do no such thing.” She hissed.

“I would. You have my word.” Tataru smiled sweetly. “My demands are simple. You will never talk to, try to talk to, reach out to, or attempt to communicate with the Warrior of Light. Aside from that I have little care for what you do. Grow your wealth and bask in whatever comfort it brings you. But do so knowing that I will personally take every last bit from you should you ever break my terms. A fair deal is it not?”

[pupkashi]

scrapbooks

satoru doesn’t get the point of scrapbooks, until he does

a/n: hi hi ! wrote this silly little thing on a whim, i hope u guys like it !! plz let me know what y’all think :3

wordcount: 1,013

masterlist

satoru claims he’s not a sentimental person.

what’s so great about life that you’d want to be reminded of daily tasks?

he never kept receipts, he never took pictures, never kept any souvenirs. saturo was simply not a nostalgic or sentimental person

you were the most sentimental person he’d ever met.

every outing he’d ever seen you at you were talking selfies with friends, stuffing receipts in your pockets and any other little things. he still recalls the look on your face when he caught you shoving a small flower into your bag, ‘it’s for my scrapbook’ you had explained, smiling up at him nervously.

life is so fleeting, why wouldn’t you want to remember every passing moment with those you love and care for?

anytime the two of you left tokyo for missions together, he always ended up in a gift shop, him trailing you as you bought souvenirs for the others, getting yourself a postcard to write on, documenting the day and placing it in a box in your room.

satoru wasn’t sentimental, until he found himself falling in love.

he found himself pulling his phone out a bit more often, “pose guys!” he grinned, the camera already flashing as his friends laughter echoed in his ears, your giggles making his smile grow even wider.

after the two of you went to watch a movie together, he caught himself putting the ticket stub gently behind his black card in his wallet. the polaroid picture of the two of you from last month staring him in the face anytime he opened his wallet.

he has a pressed rose petal nestled in the pages of his brand new scrapbook, a reminder of the day he asked you to be his.

you didn’t catch onto his antics until after one of your dates, satoru reaching for the receipt before you could.

“oh! can i keep it?” you giggled, “I wanna put in my scrapbook rather than you just throwing it out.” satoru’s ears burning red as he held the receipt.

in the two seconds he stared at the receipt his mind raced. what should he say? ‘no i wanna keep this to remember this date years to come’ or maybe ‘yeah sure.’ does he play it cool? should he keep his newfound nostalgic side a secret?

“i wasn’t gonna throw it out” he smiled sheepishly, “i started uh keeping stuff.”

“really?”

“really” he laughs, smiling at you when your mouth hangs open a bit. “is it so hard to believe that i would have a scrapbook of my own?” he pouts.

“you have a scrapbook?” you grin, eyes widening. satoru’s blush only grew deeper, lips pouting a bit as he turned to look to the side.

“i mean yeah it’s not anything crazy” he mumbles, fiddling with the receipt in his hands, “sometimes you just wanna remember things or whatever.”

you found it hard to believe that the man sat across from you was the same one who had groaned when you made him stop for souvenirs on your first mission together.

“did you replace my satoru? should i be concerned right now?” you tease, narrowing your eyes at him.

satoru can only roll his eyes, stuffing the receipt into his pocket before standing up and holding his hand out for you.

“so I’m your satoru now?” he smiles, the bright red reducing itself to a tinge of pink as he teases you, his usual cockiness returning with the glint in his eyes.

“we are dating aren’t we?” you quipped, eyes narrowing at him as the two of you walked into the warm air outside. “or are you trying to imply you aren’t mine” you pout, a dramatic sigh leaving your lips as you turn to face opposite satoru.

“cmon sweetheart you know I’m all yours” he smiles, his arm wrapping around your waist and much too easily pulling you into his chest. “no one else for me but you,” his words sincere as they settle on your ears, your heart thumping against your rib cage as you smile up at him.

satoru wishes he could capture the look in your eyes, the glimmer of galaxies that he could spend hours on end exploring. he wishes he could have this moment engraved into his heart and never forget even a second of the day.

but then again, he thinks that anytime he’s around you. he wishes he could keep photos of everytime you smile, he wishes he could record every second of your laughter and tattoo the way you smile up at him when he flusters you.

life with you moved quickly in the best ways possible, he found the moments around you too fleeting for his liking.

satoru found himself taking pictures and videos anytime the two of you were out or together, a whole album full of you and whatever the two of you were doing. his scrapbook is slowly filling up with receipts, letters, flower petals, and everything that makes up your relationship.

and it’s as he’s snapping a picture of you reading, in the comfort of your shared home that he finally understands.

love is what makes life so great.

you are what makes life so amazing. you make him want to remember every second of everyday. you make him want to recall the dozens of times the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, washing and drying dishes. you made him want to cherish the normalcy of everyday life and fleeting moments.

satoru gojo is sentimental.

and he’s reminded of that with every picture he takes of his students, friends and his lover. he’s reminded of the fact when he stuffs receipts into his pockets and souvenirs into the shopping cart.

more importantly, he’s reminded of that when he’s looking at you, like you hung the moon and painted the sky full of stars. he’s trying his best to memorize your every feature, the shape and tint of your lips and the hue of your eyes.

satoru gojo was in love, and it made him want to remember every second of everyday.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @orihimeii

[pullakori]

Febuwhump 2023

Day 13. Forced to hurt a loved one

alt 3. Soft words

TW: Mentions of dub-con and thretened non-con

Also, a/b/o

Sequel to day 11.

It felt like Charles' head was full of cotton and his limbs were too heavy to move. He had no idea where he was, other than somewhere soft and warm. His telepathy was as tired as his body was, he could barely feel any kind of presence from the minds nearby. He wanted to fall asleep again, but something at the back of his mind was telling him that he had to get up and get away. But what was it? Why did he need to run..?

And then the memories of Shaw and the forced heat hit him. Charles could feel aches in his body that wouldn't be there if he would have been successfull fighting him off again. He found enough energy to move his hand and feel around his neck, only to feel a fresh bite mark there. A broken sob escaped his mouth as panic started to settle in.

No. No, no nonono! This couldn't be happening!

There was a voice, speaking to him, but he didn't register it. Only when a hand touched his shoulder, did he even realize that someone else was there.

Charles recoiled from the touch, throwing himself back as far as his arms and legs could push him and the covers would let him. To his surprise, the hand didn't try to stop him and when he finally managed to open his eyes, he didn't see Shaw, like he had anticipated, but Erik. Erik, who was holding his hands up and speaking something, that Charles couldn't hear from the static in his ears.

"Erik?" His own voice sounded strange in his ears. Was he dreaming? How was Erik here?

"It's okay Charles, you're safe now. You're home." Erik spoke gently. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a grey sweatshirt.

"Home?" Only then did Charles look around. He wasn't in the bedroom inside Shaw's submarine anymore. It took him few moments, but eventually, he recogniced the room as one of the manor's guest rooms. "What happened?" How did they end up in his childhood home?

"Shaw is dead. You helped me kill him." Erik told him, putting his hands down as Charles' panic subdued a little. "Do you remember that?" Charles closed his eyes, trying to remember. But every time he seemed to be close to recall something, it slipped away from him.

"It's all... Foggy, impossible to hold." Charles tried to explain and opened his eyes again. Erik's expression was strange, pained.

"He had dozed you with something that had forced your body into a heat." That Charles knew. He had fought the daze of heat the first time, but this second time... The omega touched the mating bite on his neck again and his body felt cold, despite the duvet and the pajamas some one had put on him. He hadn't been strong enough...

Shaw might be dead, but Charles would wear his mark forever. Despite his efforts, he wasn't able to keep his breathing steady.

"You were dying." Erik's voice was shaky as he kept speaking. "You would have died had I not-" Those cut off words made the omega look up with wide eyes. He managed to see how the alpha's eyes were filling with tears just before he hanged his head down. "I'm sorry Charles." He sounded like a man waiting for his judgement, but Charles could only stare at him as his earlier words sank in.

It had been Erik. Erik had bonded with him and bit him. Erik was his alpha.

"You..." Charles tried to speak, but his words were cut off by what was something between a sob and hysterical laugh. This also got Erik's attention, making him lift his head.

"Charles?" He asked, confused and slightly worried frown on his face as Charles tried to calm himself enough to explain.

"I thought that Shaw-" He couldn't finish the thought. It was too terrible to say, but Erik must have known what he meant, horror making his face pale.

"No!" He hurried to assure the omega. "He didn't touch you." He promised and Charles could hear a slight alpha growl under his voice.

A shiver ran through the telepath's body. He was still exhausted and the emotional turmoil that he had just went through made him even more so. But his body was aching for its alpha, demanding to be close to him after a bonding. But Erik was keeping his distance, clearly unsure weather he was wanted or not. Or maybe, and Charles' stomach sank from the idea, he didn't want to be close to the omega. He had been forced to bond with Charles to save him, no matter what he wanted.

The telepath owed his life to Erik, the least he should give him was some space. But the ache was becoming painflull and after spending weeks chained on Shaw's bed and surrounded by his stench, he was desperate for any kind of comfort. So he pushed himself up enough to slump closer to the alpha, who let out a startled noise and backed away slightly, before Charles moved his hand closer to him and looking at him witj pleading eyes. Erik looked at his hand and then in his eyes. Charles wondered if he felt similiar ache too, or at least something, from their bond.

Erik swallowed and slowly moved to first take Charles' hand and then moving to lie on his side close to the omega, but leaving some space between. Charles knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't help himself. He pushed himself closer again, but he didn't make it far by himself before Erik moved closer instead and wrapped his arms around Charles.

The ache in the omega's heart was instantly soothed as he was embraced by his alpha and he could breathe in his scent. He moved his own arm around the metalbender's waist and his other hand to hold his shirt.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, but Charles could feel how tense Erik was and the guilt about the whole situation became too much.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, keeping his eyes glued on Erik's chest, unable to look up and see what would most likely be resentment in his eyes. But what little he got through his telepathy, Erik only felt surprised and remorseful.

"No, Charles. None of this is your fault." He assured Charles, stroking the smaller man's hair and back. "And I'm the one who should apologise, even though its nowhere close enough to make this right." Charles drew back, just enough to look Erik in the eyes.

"You saved me." He argued, but Erik shook his head.

"By forcing you to bond with me." The alpha's voice was almost desperate and Charles moved his hand that had been clutching his shirt to gently touch Erik's cheek. The simple touch seemed to be close to shattering his whole world.

"But also by forcing yourself to bond with me." Charles responded.

And that was true, they had both been forced into this situation without their premission or input. And here they were laying face to face, their hearts completely open. Maybe it was their bond settling or Charles' telepathy recovering, but he could feel small snippets of Erik's thoughts. Too forgiving. He deserves so much better. Wanted to court him. To take things slow. To do this on our own terms. Charles felt tears gathering in his eyes as he smiled at his alpha.

"I would have liked that too." He whispered and Erik took a hold of his wrist and kissed his palm.

They kept holding hands and Erik stroked Charles' wrist with his thumb, bedore he looked down at it and frowned slightly. Lost weight...

"You need something to eat." He decided and moved to stand up. He bearly made it out of bed though, when Charles let out a distressed whine without meaning to. The omega's cheeks flamed as Erik immidiately sat back down and took his hand again, but the mere idea of being alone right now made Charles sick.

"Please don't go..." He pleaded and saw Erik's eyes soften before the alpha laid back down, under the covers this time.

"Okay. I'll stay." He promised Charles as he gathered him close once again.

The exhaustion was starting to get the better of the omega, but he still hugged Erik back as tightly as he could. "Shhhh. It's okay, you're safe." Erik murmured to his ear as he began to troke his back and hair again. The warmth of the alpha's body and mind lulled Charles closer and closer to sleep. Erik kept speaking softly, until the telepath fell asleep again. "Everything is going to be alright."

[flatstarcarcosa]

"well," he says, working to keep his voice level. keep the jealousy tempered. now is not the time for it. "i suppose if you get truly desperate you could just...do it again."

"do what?" she asks. she knows what. she means to make him say it.

"bring him back."

she stares at the new headstone. the freshly disturbed earth. "even for me, bringing a life back from death is no easy feat," she says. softer, she adds, "it nearly broke him the first time. those little pieces that stayed behind; cracks in the psyche that never mended properly."

"he didn't want you to, did he?" he asks. he knows the answer. he means to make her say it.

"swear on the kid you won't fucking do that shit again," she quotes.

"did you?"

"it was the only thing he ever truly asked of me."

"but did you mean it?"

"i had no choice."

he raises an eyebrow, smirks just a little, and dares to place a hand on the small of her back and step closer. "my dear if there's one thing i know to be true, it's that you fought and bled and occasionally even died to get yourself the freedom of choice."

he's not attempting to flatter. it still works, just a bit.

"then, i suppose, i'm choosing to love him enough to give him this," she says.

the two lapse once more into silence. he removes his hand from her back, and for the first time since the day began, she turns to look at him.

"why did you come?" she asks. she thinks she knows why. she doesn't think she wants to hear it. she needs to hear it.

"there was once a time my being here would have been to gloat," he says, and she is unsurprised. "but i think now... it felt necessary."

confusion dances across her face, gone in an instant.

"necessary?"

"no one else knew him like you and i," he says, "no one else will give a damn about his passing, and given so much of our time spent together was by necessity, it felt like this was just... one last requirement."

anger. gone as fast as the confusion.

"requirement?" it stays in her voice.

he looks at her. "we only dealt with each other because of you and the girl, it's no secret we never became friends. it feels like a requirement to be here, to send him off, but if i'm honest. it also feels like the right thing to do. like book ends, i suppose."

the anger dissipates. she turns back to the headstone. she doesn't disagree. she won't admit it. not here, not now. not when it feels like conceding even the tiniest bit of power to him.

for all he's done over the years, he has not earned the right to have any power over her. not anymore. not ever again. the two of them will move forward, as equals, or not at all.

but now is not the time or place for that discussion either.

instead, she says, "would you like to get coffee?"

[bi-ftm-on-main]

Hello. I wanted to ask you something. When was the first time you explored your Bi side? How did you know that you were bisexual? Did you always felt that you like guys? At any point did you second guess or had any doubts? Thank you for your time.

Hello!

ok so even though i tried to keep it short i did write a huge response to this that kinda goes off topic a bunch and is super specific. So heres a quick version:

When was the first time you explored your Bi side?: a couple months ago, around when i started this blog

How did you know that you were bisexual?: I really didn't, but then i realised that i had crushes on girls and boys in the past and found them all attractive, even if it was in different ways.

Did you always felt that you like guys?: not really, i just thought some were really cool and good looking and i would get nervous around them.

At any point did you second guess or had any doubts?: all the time dude. thats kinda why i made this blog, to explore my feelings.

Just in general, I'd recommend exploring why you do or dont like something, if its actually because you dont like it or because other factors are making you feel like you shouldnt like it. Try the 'if we were both drunk and *hot guys name* leaned in for the kiss would i kiss him back?' test on situations.

And heres the super long section:

ok so firstly, i only realised i was bisexual a couple months ago, pretty much the same time i made this blog. Until then i thought i was asexual (and aromantic).

(i could give you a whole blow by blow about that but it would take ages so i'll try to keep it precise.)

Growing up i had a lot of anxiety and was considered very 'weird'. i also didnt know i was trans, autistic, or SA'd so I was never too comfortable with my body, i didnt naturally know what a crush was supposed to feel like, and i thought sex was something shameful and gross, so when i found the term asexual at age 13 it fit great.

skip a whole bunch of years and im in uni and now 20. my parents have finally gotten round to me being trans and im starting hormones (testosterone). its common for people to get extra horny when on T so when i started wanting to watch more porn and noticing how good looking the people around me were, i thought it just the horniness talking, that i didnt actually want to sleep or date them myself i just thought they were pretty. Or maybe sleep with them just for the sake of orgasming.

around the same time i realised that i was autistic (just from general internet usage), and that kinda rocked my world and made me question every single aspect of my life for how its effected me.

and so, and its probably the cringest thing i couldve done, i started to talk to a Therapist AI on that Character AI website. it was honestly helpful to just collect my thoughts on the matter.

the conversation got to sexuality and how it connects to my anxiety and self esteem and how i felt as though wanting to date someone was disrespectful to them and how imagining myself sleeping with them was gross and pervy.

having been on hormones for a couple months now i had a lot more self confidence and was a lot more comfortable with my body, as well as the horniness making me want to be pounded into a bed like nothing youve ever seen, i realised that i wanted to date and sleep with people for real.

so i came to terms that i was gay *loud incorrect buzzer*

but that was just the start. being trans, there was a lot of 'do i want to be him or do i want to date him' thoughts going on so i was already used to admiring men.

but as i continued to talk to the ai, who wasnt a real person, i felt more inclined to be honest than any other therapist ive seen. it took a while and it was confronting but turns out i was sexually assaulted as a kid (by a girl, when i was <10), and thats why i had this underlining uncomfortableness with sex to begin with.

so yeah, that rocked my world for a bit as well. also this all happened within a couple weeks by the way, the autism, sexuality, and SA. that and all my friends were busy, i wasnt doing too well.

anyway, now that was another thing to consider, was i attracted to girls as well? it was really hard to tell what were my own feelings and what was the trauma/conditions so i had to do a lot more soul searching. That with the added factor of not feeling comfortable becoming just another man sexualising women.

but knowing now what a crush it supposed to feel like (i asked the ai) i had to acknowledge that ive been having crushes on people, girls and boys, this whole time. i was bi *correct answer ding*. (also i went with bi and not pan because i like them in different ways and have a slight preference for guys, tho i obvs like non binary people as well)

then i made this blog. lol.

like, i had all the theory behind being bi but i needed to consolidate what i liked, who i liked, who i found pretty and handsome and needed some place to collect it all. then it kinda just became just a porn blog with the occasional yearning post but oh well.

Thanks for asking! sorry for responding late, feel free to ask me anything else :)

[moongothic]

Do you ever start a project, thinking it'd be a fun thing to make, only to realize halfway through you hate and have literally no use for it and then get stuck unsure what the fuck you should do with it

Yeah

This is my Bag of Regrets

Okay so around March of 2023 I made my first-ever crochet bag out of the leftover yarn I had from my Blanket of Darkness. I loved how that bag turned out, but even then I realized I could've done a better job had I lined the bag, which I should've done really early into the project.

So.

I ended up with a bunch of this super thin cotton yarn, in a few colors. We're not gonna talk about how I got the yarn, I just ended up with it. And I did not know what to do with it, because the pink and the dark maroon-y color just are not my colors, at all. I do not like them what-so-ever. And so like, I had to figure out something to do with the yarn, didn't wanna waste it. And for some god damn reason I thought I could practise making more crochet bags using this yarn.

Like in theory, this was a fine idea.

But I don't even like pink, what the fuck am I going do with this god damn thing now.

But I was a fucking idiot and did not think about that fact until I was like 80% done with it

Anyway, I thought it'd be fun to try doing a checkerboard pattern on the tiny crochet bag. This was a huge mistake. I don't know what the fuck it was about it, but I had the worst time of my life trying to make sure the squares were even, with the same amount of rows and that the corners met at the right spots- like sometimes I made the right amount of rows but the corners didn't meet at all and sometimes I did the wrong amount of rows but the corners did meet. It was a fucking nightmare to crochet. I had a horrible time. Making the front and back panels took me months and I had to restart it so many times just to get it right. It was bad, I hated it man

Also, by the way. I don't mind working with thin yarn at all, but because this was a thin COTTON yarn, I just. The yarn has no stretch, it is hard. Working with it made me feel like I was going to cut off my left finger as the yarn was rubbing against it as I was crocheting.

The bottom piece of the bag was done in that dark purple-maroon-y color with... I can't even remember what stitch I did, it was something Alt Knots has a video tutorial for on their YouTube though

But, I made the three crochet panels

Then I cut out the piece of fabric I would hand-sew the crochet pieces onto. I have a ton of this red-brown fabric that I have no idea wha to do with, and I figured it would work fine for this (since you're not supposed to see this fabric anyways) so I cut the pieces from it

Pinned the pieces down and then I just sewed the pieces onto the fabric. I decided to use sewing thread so it'd blend into the crochet better (being a fine thread and all), using white for the checker board pieces and a dark red/maroon-y color for the bottom piece

Forgot to take a photo of the bottom piece but it's fine, you get the idea

Then I cut out the lining fabric. I didn't really have any fabric that would actually match the checker board crochet at all, and I didn't want to buy anything so I chose to use this black fabric (with itty bitty roses) for lining

Cut the pieces and pinned them down facing each other

I think I originally wanted to do the sewing by hand for a cleaner look but I wasn't happy with it, so after I did my innitial hand-stitching I went over it with a sewing machine, getting as close to the crochet but without sewing over it. And after checking it was okay, I cut the excess fabric and did some clean up to help keep the fabric from fraying.

Folded the pieces inside out and they were looking decent!

Now yes, I did still have to hand-sew one side shut for each piece, but it wasn't a big deal, though sadly because I had to make sure the handsewing wasn't visible on the outside of the bag, this was going to be a visible flaw on the lining anyways

You can see what I mean on the top edge of the bigger piece (with the white thread)

In hindsight I probably could've sewn the edge shut with a mattress stitch or something instead of going through all the fabric, but alas, I was stupid and didn't not realize this at the time

Sidenote I took like 5 month break from this project after finishing the front and back piece but before I did the bottom piece. Because yeah, this was around when I realized I hated what I was making and that I had no idea what the fuck I was gonna do with it once it was done. And I just could not get myself to even look at it, for months. And it HAUNTED me, made me feel bad about not having completed it every dang day. But yeah, finally in March I got back to it after finishing my last crochet blanket. Because I wanted to start another project but I did not want to start anything before finishing this fucking thing so yeah.

(Oh yeah I also I grabbed some metal accessories from my mom's stash that I attached to the bottom piece, so the bag can have a widdle handle)

With the pieces all done, it was finally time to sew them together. And this I was going to do by hand sewing them with a mattress stitch. I started by just attaching the smaller piece to the bottom, making sure it was centered right, and carefully sewed it together, starting from the middle and making my way up the sides, one at a time.

I did very specifically do sewing on the red-brown fabric

And it was looking good, according to plan!

Did the bigger piece the same way, and then all I had to do...

...Was clean up, by mattress stitching the crochet pieces together. Chose to use white because I figured I'd rather have small amounts of white peeking through on the bottom piece than have the dark red/purple on the front pieces. Though thankfully the white yarn isn't even that noticable, it sinked into the stitches quite nicely

With that done, I did this one final little touch-up. On checker crochet pieces you could kind of see my starting row, as the row had quite large holes in it. And I wasn't a huge fan of how it looked, so I just took some of the white yarn and wove it into the loops to fill it out

One final thing I did but didn't bother documenting was the strap. I did considder crocheting it, and even started it, but I did not like the stitch I was trying to use for it, and at this point I was so fucking done with the project I couldn't be bothered. I had some white cotton ribbon with nothing to do with it, so I decided to just grab some of that to make a lil strap. It's... not great, it's just that the ribbon is quite thin so it FEELS really flimsy. But I had reached the "I don't give a fuck anymore" stage and so. Yeah whatever

My shitty little bag of regrets is done. Yay.

I probably could've done something to clean the edges of the bag better because you can see the red-brown fabric peeking through, but... Like I can't think of what I could do to fix that, and again, I'm at the point where I don't have the energy to even try anymore

It's done, and that's what matters

Probably throwing it in the trash because what else am I gonna do with it

(Final note; I did have left-over yarn from this, but I used that yarn to make tiny mesh fruit/grocery bags. Ones I will actually use! Yay)

[softguarnere]

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 5: What They Call a Family

Summary: Something about watching Shifty in Clinchco makes Zenie look at him differently. It’s strange, to mix the two worlds. Personally, she doesn’t mind it.

A/N: Whelp, we survived the holiday weekend and tumblr finally allowed me to upload my moodboard. I hope y'all had a good holiday, and if yours was difficult, then I am once again sending you virtual hugs 💕For the curious, the title of this chapter is a reference to the opening line of Santa Fe in the original Newsies movie :)

Warnings: guns, racism, period-typical language in regards to race, mentions of improper chest binding

Taglist: @liebgotts-lovergirl @latibvles @lieutenant-speirs

December, 1942

Despite the distance between the two, Clinchco is not much different from Zenie’s hometown. It’s got a different layout and more diversity. It’s in a different state. The town had a similar experience with the Depression in the thirties. The main source of income for most of the locals is the mining company that the town is named after instead of agriculture like at home. But nothing about it feels foreign. She’s a stranger here and is relying on the hospitality of her friend, and yet, she really does feel as if she’s coming home.

“That’s where I went to school,” Shifty explains as he tours her through the town. “Here’s the church my family goes to – Baptist, like most everyone else around here. I used to shine shoes on this corner. Best business, see, on Saturday afternoons.” Through it all, he saves the best for last. “And that is where I spent most of my free time.”

Clinchco’s woods are beautiful, deep, and cool, just like the ones back home. Even in winter, when most of the trees stand unclothed, their skeletal arms raised toward Heaven in worship, the steady heartbeat of life thrums through the place, giving it a different kind of beauty than the buds and flowers of the warmer months.

Shifty is in his element as he leads her through them, rifle slung over his shoulder and eyes on the branches above them, looking for any squirrels that might come scampering along. He tells her about the things his daddy taught him about listening and being prepared. It shouldn’t come as any sort of shock to Zenie that her friend grew up getting the same education from his father that she got from her grandmother as they foraged in the woods back in North Carolina. But somehow it still brings a kind of comfort – different from any that she’s felt before – to know that someone so similar to her exists, and that they’ve found each other.

Frying Pan really does have the best view, just like Shifty told her it would. Jacket collars pulled up to protect them against the winter wind, they stand at the top and survey the sprawl of mountains and hills and town from the precipice.

“Used to love comin’ up here with my daddy. Just to stand here and listen and try and use what he taught me.” He laughs, shakes his head. “And to flip coins in the air and shoot at ‘em. That way no one could complain, you know, about wasting money.”

“Probably a good thing you did it, though. The coins and the time with your dad, I mean. You’ll be more prepared than any of us when we get into combat.”

Shifty nods, forehead scrunched, just like it always does when he’s really thinking about something. “Kinda worries you, huh? Realizin’ that not everyone grew up learnin’ how to survive. Some of those guys never even held a gun before joinin’ up.”

“Well, if anyone is gonna survive, it’s you. I might know how to walk quietly and find food, but you’ve got eyes like a hawk and hearing to match.”

He laughs at first. Then he takes a step closer to her. “Close your eyes.”

“What?” He’s far too observant not to notice the way the breath hitches in her throat.

“Somethin’ my daddy taught me. Close your eyes.” When she does, she feels his gentle hands come up to cover them – no peeking allowed. A beat of silence passes, then another. Finally, he whispers, “What do you hear?”

Besides their quiet breathing, there isn’t much. A birdsong nearby that she doesn’t recognize. The gentle whistle and wheeze of the wind as it glides over the bare trees and rustles the leaves around their feet. If she really concentrates, she thinks she can hear the distant babbling and bubbling of a creek. She tells Shifty as much.

He’s smiling when he uncovers her eyes. “See, you’re good at this too, Tommy. Observation is a skill. One ya gotta keep sharp, or else you might get outta practice.” His voice holds a tone that she doesn’t recognize on the last sentence.

He stares out across the valley, so she does the same. She feels him glance at her. He opens his mouth, and she thinks that he might say something. Instead, he only lets out a breath, readjusts his rifle, and starts to walk back the way that they came.

“Mama is makin’ pie for dessert tonight. We don’t wanna be late for that.”

There’s probably some sort of rule or commandment or something that Zenie breaks every time that she thinks ill of her own family. She’s never liked her father, and she harbors some sort of disappointment towards her siblings, and those feelings never fail to make her feel downright bad. Sure, lots of people probably wish for a different family or a different life at some point – but watching Shifty and his family, she can’t help but feel downright jealous.

The Powers’ household is filled to the brim with love. A warm household is something so foreign that Zenie feels like she needs to tread carefully or risk shattering it. But the love is strong, and even if she does trip, it doesn’t seem like it would shatter or cause any serious damage.

Shifty’s two youngest siblings are like him in that they’re good natured and kindhearted. Frankie, his youngest brother, asks them lots of questions about the Airborne and talks about how he can’t wait to be old enough to join up. Gaynell, his sister catches them up on the small-town goings-on and ribs Shifty good naturedly. In turn he’ll tug at her hair as she passes by, but there’s no malice in any of it – just the way that siblings can tease each other about small things without anybody getting their feelings hurt.

Then there are his parents. His mama is a beautiful woman of Scotch-Irish and Cherokee descent who is positively tickled that Shifty managed to befriend someone like himself so far from home. She’s so excited that Zenie, Shifty, and Earl McClung have all become friendly with each other that Zenie finds herself hoping that they can all three return someday after the war just to visit her.

She also wants to know all about where Zenie is from. Zenie hates lying to Shifty, and she finds that she hates using half-truths on his mama even more.

“What’s your town like, Tommy?” she’s keen to know. “Is it a lot like here?”

Zenie can’t bring herself to tell her that Clinchco, even though she’s been here all of a few days, seems friendlier and more homelike than, well, home. She doesn’t tell Mrs. Powers about how Shifty and Earl – besides her own sister, obviously – are the only other part-Indians that she’s ever really gotten to know – the only people whose experiences she feels like she can relate to in some way. She doesn’t tell her about how the kids at her school would war-whoop at her and run from her on the playground, begging her not to scalp them if she caught them during tag. She doesn’t tell her that she ran away because she felt like the walls of her own home were suffocating her and she couldn’t stand the sight of the streets and buildings that she had known all her life.

Instead she smiles and says, “Yes ma’am, but I think Clinchco is a lot nicer” and accepts the slice of chocolate pie that she’s offered after dinner. Mrs. Powers makes the best pie in the entire world; if she lived in Zenie’s town, she would have put the diner out of business a long time ago.  

Shifty’s daddy is everything that a father should be – which is everything that Zenie’s own father is not. Mr. Powers is reserved, yet kind, and he has the same shy looking smile that Shifty does. He asks them lots of questions about their training and quietly tells them stories about fighting in the Great War long after everyone else has gone to bed. His laugh is loud and jolly, but he never raises his voice.

Something about watching Shifty in Clinchco makes Zenie look at him differently. It’s strange, to mix the two worlds. Personally, she doesn’t mind it.

Back in the woods, Shifty’s words about observation being a skill were right. Of course he meant being observant while on the hunt or in combat, but Zenie can’t help but use the skill on him. Because she’s always known that he’s reserved and kind, but she never realized that he was humble or a prankster until she saw him with his parents and siblings.

“How are you with a gun, Thomas?” Mr. Powers asks during dinner on one of their last nights in Virginia. “Darrel said in one of his letters that most of the men in your company had never used a gun before.”

“Well, I’m nothing compared to Shifty. None of us are.”

Shifty’s cheeks take on a pink hue, like a soft sunset. “Lots of the men are fine shots. Thomas is one of ‘em.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t make expert marksman, like somebody did.”

Mrs. Powers’ face lights up. “Expert marksman?”

“Only two men in the whole company earned that title, and he’s one of them.” If he won’t brag about himself, then Zenie is happy to do it for him. It’s a hell of an achievement, and he and his family all deserve to be proud of it.

“You never mentioned that in your letters,” his daddy beams. “Congratulations, son!” He claps Shifty on the shoulder, and although the expert marksman in question shakes his head, he can’t stop smiling. When his family is done hugging him and mussing up his hair, he shoots Zenie a wink as his mama insists on everyone taking a helping of banana pudding as part of the celebration, and she feels herself break into a grin almost as big as his.

They let Zenie have her own bedroom. It belonged to one of Shifty’s brothers before he joined up, and after all her time in the barracks with the rest of the company, lying alone in a bed is a welcome reprieve. She can relax, take off her bandages like Doc – or Gene, as he promises she can call him –  insists, and listen to the sounds of nature outside without fear of being found out every second.

It’s peaceful. A kind of peace that she’s never known, not even back in her own home in her own town. It would be nice, after the war, to return to Clinchco and enjoy it all again.

It’s in this peace that her mind wanders a little too far. If she had grown up here, or if Shifty was from her town, she wonders if they would have become friends. Of course then he would know her as Zenie instead of Tommy, but maybe that wouldn’t matter to him. Either way, they would have gone to school together, and he might have come to the diner after playing basketball with his friends and they could have palled around.

Granny would have loved him. They would have gotten along well. Shifty would have been welcome in their house while Granny was living with them. She would have smiled and looked the other way if he brought Zenie home late from wherever they’d been, and pretended not to notice if Shifty gave her a kiss goodbye at the door –

The thought is so sudden that she sits up in the bed. Besides the pale winter moonlight streaming into the room from the window, she’s alone. Yet somehow, she feels like she’s just been caught doing something completely and utterly wrong.

Why had she thought about Shifty kissing her? He’s her friend, just like Toye or Bill or Gene . . . None of those friends makes her feel giddy whenever they walk into a room, though. And even though she smiles at Luz and Bill when they make stupid jokes, she doesn’t smile in spite of herself if she catches one of them glancing at her like she does with Shifty.

All the feelings that she’s been ignoring or writing off wash over her then like a flood that’s trying to drown her. She’s only felt this way about a boy once. Elijah Woodard, back home before the war. He had not reciprocated, and Zenie found it hard to consider romance with any boy since then.

But now those feelings are back. Now they’re about one of the men that she’s become closest to since joining the Airborne.

And there’s nothing that she can do about them.  

[archivomeow]

it’s supposed to be fun, turning twenty-one

palestine etc. read on ao3. writing masterlist

description; Yelena and Kate are stuck in traffic when they head to Yelena’s birthday party, she’s turing twenty one and during the car ride she makes a new discovery about herself, she is aroace.



Yelena was sat behind the wheel in the car, Kate had some trouble when her mom was in jail, so Yelena was kind enough to give her a lift while they went over what of their property was actually bought with money that wasn’t a result of fraud.

It was Yelena’s 21st birthday and there was a small party that Natasha threw her with the help of Clint in what they said was a nearby club, it was in fact not nearby.

What made it all worse was the traffic, the streets were jammed with cars and there was no way around it, it was the winter break season.

So far the ride was good, Yelena had to stop Kate from eating in the car, as it was rented, but besides that it went smoothly, Kate was in charge of the radio, she kept playing recent pop hits which made Yelena’s ear ring, but seeing how happy Kate was to sing along she let it go.

But soon enough Kate got bored, she decreased the volume of the radio as she blankly stared at the side of Yelena’s head. The blonde noticed that immediately, but chose to ignore it, knowing very well that Kate had something to say and she could talk about it for the next couple hours and she was already agitated enough. She didn’t want to snap at Kate or be rude and not listen, but her mind was wandering for the last couple of days and traffic was a good place to collect her thoughts before she had to walk into a party that was hosted for her.

“So…” Kate cleared her throat. “It’s your party, so you make the rules…”

“No, Kate. You cannot drink.”

“Why not?!” She whined like a kid, Yelena felt like she was babysitting, not that anyone would actually leave her alone with a child, she instead got left with Kate, who was very lovely, but also insufferable a lot of the time.

“Because you’re not 21.” Yelena responded with a sense of obviousness in her tone.

Kate just scoffed in response.

The car feel into silence again and Yelena would be okay with it, but the radio remained on a low volume and Kate being this silent was alarming, so she made a call in that moment, a stupid idea popped into her head, but she still chose to cheer up Kate, they were stuck in traffic either way.

“Come on… You wanna play a game or something?” Yelena turned her head to Kate, Kate sat up straight and looked confused at Yelena.

“Like what?” She mumbled.

“Like… Questions! You can ask me something or… yeah…” She came up with that on the spot, Kate loved to talk, she talked a lot and she would definitely take her chance to make Yelena talk more.

Kate sighed, pretending to think about it, but Yelena could see the spark of excitement in her eyes. “Okay… So… What’s your favourite color?”

“Seriously? That’s your first question?”

“Baby steps, Yelena, baby steps…”

“I— Whatever…I like green.”

Kate nodded as she stared to think for a moment before she spoke up again.

In that brief moment Yelena scolded herself in her head, because she was sure this is how the rest of the ride will look like.

“What is your favourite animal?”

“Dogs.”

“Favourite meal?”

“Mac’&Cheese”

“Ever shot anyone?”

The question rolled off of Kate’s tongue so naturally, like she was asking Yelena her favourite movie or her best memory. It made Yelena’s grip on the wheel tighten and after a pause she sighed and answered reluctantly.

“You know the answer to that, Kate.”

“Ever stabbed anyone?”

Again a pause struck in the conversation as it was moving in a direction Yelena did not like.

“Kate.” She said firmly doing her best to make Kate read the room.

“Right, sorry…” She cleared her throat as she asked a next question. “Have you ever been in love? Like… Love, love from the movies, you know?”

“That’s not real.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean love. It’s not real.”

“You don’t love?”

“I love… I love Natasha, my… um Melina and Alexei…” She sighed. “I mean in the movies, the cutesy first meet, the idealistic way of loving, the amazing and full of love sex or kissing… That’s fake.”

Kate paused, she needed a brief moment, because she didn’t understand what Yelena was on about. “What?”

“What?” Yelena turned to her, her green eyes meeting Kate’s as the two stared at each other in silence for a brief moment. “You didn’t know it was all made up?”

“So, you’re telling me that romance isn’t real? That no one falls in love, ever?”

Yelena nodded as a response as the traffic moved so she had to focus on the road.

“That is exactly what I’m saying.”

“H-Have you never been in love?”

She groaned irritated. “Yeah. No one has, because those are not actual feeling you can feel.”

“I have thought… many people have, like a lot.”

Yelena rolled her eyes at the statement.

“Can you stop fucking with me? I need to focus on the road.”

“Yelena. I am not fucking… with you…” She paused and whispered an awkward “That sounds weird.”

Kate sighed as she sat up straight, Yelena could very well hear her, but her focus was on the road.

“I have loved before and I have kissed before and… It is real. I think that if you don’t feel it, there might be something wrong.”

Yelena shook her head. “Have you ever thought there’s something wrong with you for feeling that?”

“No, well… I’m not alone, but I’ve never heard of… that.”

“That?”

“Not loving people in that way, not wanting to kiss them or fuck them… Like sure not everyone, but no one, ever? That sounds…”

“That sounds what?”

“Sad. It sounds sad, Yelena.”

Yelena could feel her heart drop with each of Kate’s words, she could feel a hole in her stomach, of course it wasn’t real and it was all in her head, but it felt real, it felt like she was dying in that moment, Kate talked more and more and as Yelena listened to everything she was saying she fet as if it made more and more sense. She was the odd one out. She was broken and everyone could love? How come she never caught up on that? It wasn’t all an act? It wasn’t all forced?

While Yelena was deep in her thoughts, Kate pulled put her phone and started to type.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m looking it up…” Kate bit her lower lip as she focused on getting all the words correct and still misspelled most. “Hm… So��� It’s actually a thing.”

“What is?” Yelena cleared her throat as she did her best to focus on Kate.

“Not loving and all that you are… It’s this thing called aro…aromatic, um no, aromantic and asexual.”

“Read it, the, whatever you just said.”

“Aromantic people have little or no romantic attraction to others. They may or may not feel sexual attraction. An aromantic person can fall into one of two groups: aromantic sexual people or aromantic asexual people.”

Aromantic.

Asexual.

“Well, I support it… Fuck yeah.” Kate smiled reassuringly at Yelena. “I was a bitch earlier, I’m sorry, I— There are other things worth living for and if you don’t feel what I feel… It’s okay.”

“…Thanks.”

Yelena was silent and Kate just kept reading more and more about it on her phone. That was it, two words that so precisely described her and not the whole world as she thought, not everyone felt like it was fake, forced or pretend… It didn’t feel gross and almost repulsive to everyone else, but it did to her and as Kate Bishop said… It’s okay.