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hoejosatoru · 3 months

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Room for One More

Pairing: Fem!reader x Shinichiro

Summary: Seeing how you cares for his little siblings makes Shinichiro want to have a child of his own with you <3

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: changed the sano siblings ages a bit from cannon to fit the narrative, talk of pregnancy, breeding kink, raw sex, fingering, cream pie, some pet names, not proof read

You woke up to a familiar sound: little feet on hardwood and stifled giggles. You felt the bed shift under the weight 2 tiny bodies as they wedged their way between you and your boyfriend.

“Wake upppppp” Mikey whined. You rolled over, finding him poked at Shinichiro’s cheek.

He grumbled, turning into the pillow. “C’mon Mikey, it’s early.”

Mikey snorted. “It’s nine!”

Shin’s voice came muffled from the pillow. “That is early.”

“Lazy!” Emma giggled at Mikey’s comment.

“How about instead of bothering Shin, you give me a good morning hug?” you asked, earning delighted squeals from the two of them. They practically leaped at you, but you received them happily, hugging them tightly. “You too, Izana, you know I can’t get up without a hug.”

Izana was standing in the doorway, watching this all unfold. Being the oldest, besides Shin, you knew he felt like he wasn’t supposed to get in on the “baby stuff.” However, you also knew he really liked it, as he was still very much a child after all. You were always sure to invite him in, so he felt like he was doing it for you, rather than himself. He gave you a big, sweet hug.

“I’m hungry,” Mikey groaned.

“You’re always hungry,” Izana replied.

“I’ve got an idea,” you interjected. “Whoever brushes their teeth the fastest gets an extra piece of bacon.” Their eyes all lit up and in a flash they were gone.

You leaned over, pressing a kiss on Shin’s cheek. “I’ll make them breakfast, you rest, okay?” Shin had been working a lot lately; the responsibility of the bike shop was a lot for him. This was his first day off in a while and you knew he needed it.

“Thank you,” he murmured, turning to give you a quick kiss on the lips.

You made it to the kitchen just in time to see the kids race in, Izana sliding into his chair first. “We have a winner!” you announced, ruffling his snowy hair. He smiled proudly. The other two pouted.

“He cheated,” Mikey grumbled.

You were fishing out pans from the cabinet as you replied, “Sore losers don’t get any bacon.” That got him quiet. You got everything you needed- eggs, bread, butter, and bacon - and got to work cooking breakfast. It wasn't long before Shinichiro stumbled in.

“I thought you were gonna rest some more?”

Shin cozied up behind you at the stove, wrapping his arms around you. “Smells too good to stay away.” You leaned into the warmth of his touch, smiling as he peppered soft kisses on your neck and cheek.

“Eww!” the kids groaned in unison. You giggled as Shin told them to shut up, while half laughing himself. When you finished cooking you gathered around the little kitchen table to eat. Everyone fell silently as they enjoyed their food. Meal times were typically the quietest parts of the day.

Just as you were all finishing up Shin’s phone rang. He looked at the number and groaned. “Shit.”

“Oohh, Shin cursed!” Mikey gasped, making Emma giggled. Shin stuck his tongue out at them. Although he was much older, it didn’t stop the typical sibling dynamics from playing out.

“It’s the bike shop, I gotta take it,” he explained, before slipping out of the room.

“Let's get this cleaned up, yeah?” you said to the kids. They got up without complaint, helping you bring the dishes to the dishwasher and load it up. The kids definitely messed around a lot, but they were great little helpers. By the time you finished, Shinichiro returned with a disappointed look on his face.

“I have to go into work,” he sighed, heavy with sadness.

“No! We were supposed to have a picnic today,” Emma pouted. She expressed the disappointment you felt. You weren’t angry, if anything you were upset for Shin. You knew he was looking forward to getting some time off and was probably just as upset as you were.

“I’m really sorry,” Shin replied, “It’s an emergency.”

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

“Yeah no one’s hurt or anything,” Shin replied, “We just have this big job that needed to be finished today. The guy who was supposed to do it got really sick and if we don’t complete this we’ll lose a ton of money. I’m so sorry I gotta go get it done.” Shinichiro looked so disappointed, it made your heart ache. It always sucked when he got called into work unexpectedly, but today he looked particularly upset. You knew he hated how much he had to work, despite loving motorcycles. It was difficult for him to be so young and have to provide for himself as well as all his little siblings. His dedication and care of them was something that drew you to him in the first place. “I’m sorry my love,” you replied, “That really sucks, but not your fault. We understand, don’t we?”

The kids were definitely disappointed, but they nodded along anyway thankfully. “It’s okay Shin,” Izana stated, “We can hang out a different day.”

Shinichiro shook his head. “No we already bought everything for the picnic, you all should still go and have a good time.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Absolutely. I’d feel worse if you guys didn’t have fun today,” Shin replied. “You’ll all behave for y/n if she takes you to the park right?” This time they nodded eagerly. “Good,” Shin replied. He put his hand on Izana’s head, fluffing his hair a bit. “You’re the man of the house while I’m away, bud. Make sure these two behave.”

“Hey!” Mikey and Emma grumbled while Izana beamed with the honor Shin had bestowed on him. Shin told the kids to get dressed, giving you a minute alone.

“I really am sorry about this, I was looking forward to spending time together,” Shin said, taking your hand in his.

“It’s really okay, you can’t control it,” You replied, giving his hand a squeeze, “You just owe us extra next time you’re off.” Your light teasing made him smile.

“You got it.” He stole a kiss before the kids could come back down and gag over your PDA. “If you need me at all, please call. I’ll say fuck work if you really need me for something.”

“Don’t worry about it, just do what you need to do and come home to us as soon as you can, okay?” you replied, stealing another kiss while you could.

“Yes ma’am.” With that the kids came racing back into the room. Shin said his goodbye before heading out. You got the kids organized, having them pack up their snacks and toys they wanted to bring with them. When everything was ready, you piled everything into a little wagon, which Izana was happy to put in charge of pulling.

You held Emma’s hand as you walked to park. Mikey ran head, eager as always, while Izana followed dutifully behind so he could keep an eye on everyone. When you finally arrived, you let them run loose as you laid out the blanket. Despite it being a nice day, the park was fairly empty, giving the kids freedom to do as the pleased. As you watched them run around and laugh with each other, that familiar warm feeling grew in your chest.

Shin’s sibling were not your kids, obviously. You were just his girlfriend, after all. Still you felt such strong affection for them. You didn’t have a big family growing up and you loved being a part of their family like this. It meant a lot to you that his siblings seemed to love you as much as you loved them.

After running around for awhile, the kids worked up an appetite and joined you on the picnic blanket. You dug through the picnic basket, pulling out everyone’s favorite snacks. You felt a little tug in your chest, knowing Shin had gone shopping to get everyone just what they liked. When you saw his favorite candy at the bottom of the basket you kept it hidden, wanting him to have a little treat to come home too.

After lunch, Izana and Mikey went back to running around and playing some tag-like game. Emma roped you into playing dolls with her, not that you minded. When she got bored of that, she went off to collect little flowers that were sprouted in the park. She brought you back a little bouquet, smiling brightly and filling your chest with warmth. There were a few extra she had for herself.

“Sit,” you patted the blanket next to you. Emma did as you asked, sitting in front of you. You used your fingers to comb through her silky blonde hair, then braided it, weaving in the little flowers she found. When you showed her, she squealed with delight.

“It’s like Rapunzel!” she beamed.

“Can Rapunzel go tell her brothers its time to go home?” Emma nodded, skipping off to round up Mikey and Izana while you packed everything up. The sun was starting to set as you walked back home. You were surprised how much time you spent out, but you thoroughly enjoyed yourself. It only would have been better if Shin could have joined you.

When you got home, you instructed the kids to wash up while you started making something for dinner. You kept it a simple crowd pleaser: pasta.

“How you guys feel about watching a movie after dinner?” You asked as everyone ate at the table.

“Can we make a fort?” Mikey asked.

“Of course,” you replied. The three of them ate the rest of the meals excitedly chatting about how they would arrange the pillows and blankets. Once dinner was finished, they helped you clean up without complaint, eager to get to the fort building. It took a bit of time to get it big enough for everyone to fit while also being structurally sound, but eventually you got it right.

“You guys don't want snacks right?” you joked, knowing they’d be appalled you’d even suggest they go snack less.

“Nuh uh! I want popcorn,” Mikey replied.

“And m&ms!” Emma chimed in. You laughed, but fetched what they asked for, before climbing into the fort. It was a tight fit, but they all had no qualms cuddling up to you. Emma was squished against your chest, while Mikey rested by your stomach. Izana snuggled up against your leg.

The kids chatted and giggled at the beginning of the movie, but slowly fell silently as they drifted to sleep. Usually Izana is able to stay up through a movie, but even he was knocked out from a long day at the park. You were wondering how you would get them to their beds without waking them up, when you heard the front door open.

“I’m home!” Shin announced. When he walked into the living room he laughed at the sight of the blankets and pillows arranged haphazardly. “Shit I didn’t know they were asleep,” he said when he came around tot he front of the fort. Shinichiro’s heart seized at the sight of his little siblings cuddled up to you so peacefully. He already knew he loved you, but it moments like this it was almost overwhelming for him.

“It’s okay, they’re totally knocked out from today,” you whispered. “We missed you, but I saved you a plate. Why don’t you go eat and then we’ll move them?”

Shin nodded, even though he had the strongest urge to join you guys. His growling stomach was the only thing that pulled him away. He ate quickly, but appreciated the meal you had left for him.

“Thank you for dinner, my love,” Shin said when he returned, “Now lets get them to bed.” Shin gently lifted Izana off you, who stayed asleep while he carried him to his room. Next he took Mikey, leaving you to carry Emma up to her room. All the kids remained asleep on the short walk to their room.

“Your turn,” Shin greeted outside Emma’s door. Before you could ask what he meant, he swept you off your feet and carried you to your bedroom. You both laughed quietly, as he placed you on the bed.

“We missed you a lot today,” you told him.

“I missed you guys too,” Shin replied “You’re so good with the kids, you have no idea how much it means to me.” Shin spent his entire day thinking of you all. It was not the first time you stepped up and helped with the kids, but it never meant any less to him. He loved how you cared for them, treating them basically like your own. Coming home to all of them so cuddled up to you just confirmed what he always felt. “Would it be crazy if I said I want a kid of our own?”

Your eyes went wide. The two of you had talked about having a family, but it had always been casual. Something that was more of a day dream than a true plan. “We aren’t even married,” was all that came out in your shock. You and Shin weren’t traditional by any means, but you always assumed you’d be married before having children.

Shin got a funny smile on his face. “Funny you should say that.” He went over to his drawer, digging through it until he pulled out a little black velvet box. You gasped. “So, I had been planning on proposing today when we were all together. I was really upset when I didn’t think it would happen, but I guess it was meant to be,” he explained, with the sweet grin on his face that had made you fall in love with him. “So, y/n, will you marry me?”

There was only one answer. “Yes, of course.” You threw your arms around him, happy tears streaming down your face. You only pulled away so he could slide the beautiful ring on your finger. “I love it so much. I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” Shin replied, pulling you in for a kiss. He laid you down, kissing you as he straddled your body. You were both giggling, equally giddy and desperate for each other, as if it was the first time being together. Your stripped each other as you kissed, barely letting your lips part. “Fuck,” Shin said looking at you, “So fucking pretty. My girl. my fiancé.”

You blushed and smiled, loving the sound of that. You twirled the hair at the base of his head, just like you knew he liked. It only egged him on more. “Gonna be even better when I can call you my wife.” His hand slipped between your legs, spreading the slickness that gathered. You let out a little satisfied sigh as he teased your clit. “Fuck you’d look so good pregnant. You want that, yeah? Wanna have a baby with me love?”

Maybe it was the excitement of the engagement or the ache of desire you felt for Shin, but in that moment there was nothing you wanted more. “Please Shin,” you begged, “I want that so bad.” Shin smiled widely, slipping his fingers inside you. You let out a little gasp as he pressed into your g-spot, making you impossibly wetter.

“Fuck, gonna give that to you,” he murmured against your skin. He kissed your breasts, his tongue sliding across your nipple. Goosebumps raised on your skin as he continued to work at you. His thumb found your clit, pressing little circles until the bubble of pleasure inside you popped.

You bit your lip, letting out a low, breathless moan as you came. You were still acutely aware that the kids were near by, asleep in their beds. The last thing you wanted to do was wake them up.

When you were finished, Shinichiro sat up, pumping his hard, leaky cock. The sight of him coupled with the anticipation of getting to feel him raw for the first time made your body drum with excitement. Shin was just as eager, lining himself up to you and pressing himself inside you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “Knew you’d feel good, but this is like fucking heaven.” He gave slow, deep thrusts, allowing him to savor ever inch of you. “We’re never using condoms again.” You giggled at his enthusiasm, but also fully agreed that this felt better than before.

Shinichiro grew more needy. His thrusts became faster and harder as he lost himself in the feeling of you. “Can’t wait to fill you up,” he panted softly, “Gonna be the prettiest mommy. Fuck I love you.”

“I love you too, Shin,” you whimpered. Your hands dragged up and down his back, holding him close to you. The faster he moved, the more the pleasure inside you rebuilt. You were getting to the tipping point when Shin let out a low curse and buried his face in your neck. You felt his cock twitch inside you, filling you with his warm cum. The sensation sent you over the edge, making you cum around his cock. You bit into his shoulder to stifle the sound.

The both of you stayed like that for awhile, Shin buried deep inside you, bodies pressed together, breathless and flushed. Eventually, Shin propped himself up on his elbows. He wasn’t far from you by any means, but it allowed him to look at you. His cheeks were flushed with a loving glow that only made your heart flutter more.

“I really mean it, you know,” Shin said, pushing hair out of your eyes. “There’s nothing more that I want than to have a family with you.”

His sweetness and sincerity nearly brought tears to your eyes. “I want that, too. I’m so glad I get to be a part of your family now.” It was all you had wanted since you first started dating him

He picked up the hand that the ring was on, placing a soft kiss on it. “You’ve always been part of the family, now it’s just official.”

You cupped his cheek, pulling him in for another kiss. “I love you so much.”

Shin only smiled brighter, “I love you more.” The joy you felt was beyond anything you could explain. All you knew was there was nothing more you were excited for than to be build a life and family with Shinichiro.

#domestic shin is everything to me #shinichiro sano smut #shinichiro smut #shinichiro headcanons #shinichiro fluff #tokyo revengers hcs #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers smut

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laurirandomthings · 10 months

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Colour practice

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shisnhou · 2 years

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does anyone else have thoughts about gojo satoru who wants to buy you sexy lingerie for your birthday present, but doesn’t know what your bra or panty size is.

the man is walking into the lingerie store with his head held up high and his cheeks tainted red. all the women, and their significant others look at him with a confused yet intrigued look. why‘s this extremely handsome man walking into the lingerie store alone?

with long confident strides, this man walks to the set aisle. his blue eyes widen behind the designer sunglasses, and it isn’t the price tags that fluster him—he could care less about the insane price tags—what flusters him is the material and style of the lingerie.

he swallows, hard. he suppresses the shaking of his hand and reaches out for the dark blue lingerie before his also very blue eyes.

"excuse me sir?" a woman appears out of no where, breaking goio‘s impure imagination of you in said lingerie. "is there anything i can help you with?" she asks, cocking a brow.

gojo puts the lingerie down and stammers, licking his lips for a moment before coming to his senses. "i— yeah." he thinks hard and keeps his mind straight. "can i have this for my girl?"

"sure," she nods, taking the lingerie from his hands. "this is our limited edition, by the way. we only have two of these ever made by our famous designer.." gojo could honestly care less about what she is saying. all he‘s thinking of right now is taking the sinful piece and placing it on you as soon as possible.

"yeah." he nods, already looking around for another sexy set.

"the person you‘re with must be really lucky." she chuckles, still doing whatever the fuck she‘s supposed to do and looks at him. "this is one of a kind." she further adds. he nods again. "so i‘ll have to ask.."

"what‘s their size?"

gojo stops.

"what?"

"it‘s limited edition, so there‘s no size other than this. we have to make sure it‘s their size." she looks at him.

gojo halts. his whole body shuts down as he looks at it. he hadn‘t thought that part through. he thought that if he‘d see what looks good, he‘d immediately know it was made for you. but for god sake, now that he’s here, he doesn’t have a single clue.

"i— um—" he stammers, trying to explain it. "it‘s—"

"do you not know it?" she frowns. "i mean it‘s okay. you‘d just have to ask her then come—"

"no! i know it!" he cuts her off quick, pressing his fingers to his temple. "it‘s— it‘s.."

without even realizing it, gojo brings up both his hands to the air and makes an odd shape. the woman watches and eyes him oddly as he continues to further describe the shape.

"what‘re you doing…?"

"i‘m trying to show you." without a single ounce of shame, this man then puts his hands on the bra and feels it.

he‘s trying to figure out your tit size with his hands.

"yeah, that‘s it." he nods, sure of himself. then he grabs the thong. he places it flat on his palm and sees the size before nodding once again and smiling to the woman. "mhm, that‘s the right size."

the woman stares at him, bewildered. her jaw hangs agape, throat dry as she watches gojo move around and look at her. "yeah, that‘s it. it‘s her perfect size."

without even awaiting her response, he proudly takes the set from her and walks away, not even bothering to check the number tag for the size as he goes around and does the same for every piece of lingerie he encounters.

the people look at him, meanwhile he couldn‘t give a damn. he simply walks around, and purchases what he found with pride, leaving the store and the people in there more confused than they ever were in their lives.

and when the man gives it to you during your birthday, somehow, some fucking way, it‘s actually the right fucking size. and when he knows about it, he‘ll smugly tell you the story about how he found out your size and you‘ll just be left embarrassed the next time you‘re walking into that store with him.

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scriveyner · 8 months

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the places we'll go

Akutagawa wasn’t certain where’d he taken the wrong turn, but it came up quickly. He glowered at an unfamiliar street full of pedestrians, hands in his pockets as he stalked forward, intent on a mission. It wasn’t like him to get lost, but he was distracted as he often was these days, ruminating on the most creative way to eviscerate that miserable self-healing weretiger.

Continue on AO3 or after the jump:

The autumn air was crisp, not quite cold yet; but most people around him were dressed in long sleeves or pants, bundling against the inevitable drop in temperature when the sun finally sank past the horizon. They paid him little mind, which he preferred; but something just seemed off. The city streets around him had transitioned into more housing than commercial, and he had little business on this side of town.

Akutagawa went to turn a corner, intending to double back the way he’d come when he was nearly run down by an errant child swinging a toy sword.

Rashomon rippled, irritated from his shoulders as Akutagawa stared, surprised, at what looked to be the spitting image of the weretiger, only in child form.

“Oops, sorry mister,” the child yelped without even looking at him, even as an all-too-familiar voice shouted from along the road, “Acchan! Watch where you’re swinging that-!”

Akutagawa turned, taken aback but already preparing a snide remark about the weretiger’s secret lovechild when he locked eyes with Atsushi and froze in place. The weretiger’s stride faltered as well as they stared at each other, the moment stretching interminably long as Akutagawa’s gaze flickered from Atsushi to the small dark-haired child whose hand he was holding, and then over to himself, holding the child’s other hand and looking just as startled.

Time sped up, and everyone was in motion. “Acchan!” Atsushi roared, and the small version of himself turned, clearly startled by the tone, and finally looked up at Akutagawa, eyes wide.

“Dad?” he said, confused.

He caught the movement from the corner of his eye as his other self scooped the second child into his arms; Akutagawa turned to face them, coat spinning out behind him as Rashomon exploded from his coat in defensive tendrils. Before he could react one entire enormous tiger landed on him, taking him to the ground, teeth bared to his face.

Rashomon stabbed into the great white beast, through limbs and sides, drenching them both in blood but its weight was enormous, he couldn’t free himself from beneath its paws.

Blood splattered past his face and onto the concrete, and he felt his ribs crack under the weight of the enormous white tiger; he tried still to dislodge him—however, not even Rashomon deterred him, the growl echoing in his chest, hot breath blasting through his hair.

Black pulled at the edges of his vision; from the left he saw himself, holding the dark-haired child who looked like them both; this other him put his hand on the tiger’s bloody shoulder and said something softly.

Akutagawa coughed wetly, unable to parse the words through the blood rushing in his ears, and finally succumbed to the darkness pulling him under.

=====

Everything fucking hurt.

Akutagawa took a deep breath, took note of two cracked ribs that complained horrifically, and assessed before he even opened his eyes. He wasn’t restrained; heard no soft hum of medical equipment, and figured if he was dead, he wouldn’t hurt so goddamn much. Finally he opened his eyes and discovered, to his surprise, he was laid out on a couch, tattered black trench coat laid over him like a blanket.

Two pairs of eyes, one set dark gray and the other achingly familiar violet-gold, were peeking over the back of the couch at him. When the two sets of eyes realized that they had been spotted, both disappeared and two pairs of footsteps went thudding away, out of sight. “Dad, dad, dad!!!”

Akutagawa pushed himself upright, coat sliding off. He was shirtless, bandages wrapped securely around his chest—presumably to help with the cracked ribs—but they were not so tight as to restrict his already labored breathing. He pulled his coat around his shoulders as he sat up, Rashomon’s presence an immediate comfort, and the only thing familiar in this moment—until a second, enormous, red-eyed black Rashomon head hove over him from behind the couch.

He turned and saw himself, the two miniature versions of himself and the weretiger hiding safely behind his legs. Akutagawa stared at the children, perplexed, for a moment more, before raising his gaze and meeting his double’s eye.

The other Akutagawa said, “Upstairs, both of you. Now.”

“What?” the tiny Atsushi said. “No! I want to know—”

“You heard your father,” the weretiger’s voice came from out of sight, and after another long look at Akutagawa, both children slunk away.

Akutagawa took a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest like he’d run a marathon. “What the hell is going on,” he croaked, throat and mouth dry as the desert. “Who the hell are you?”

“I think that would be plainly obvious,” his double said shortly. “What’s less obvious is what you are doing here.”

The weretiger entered the room then; he was wearing different clothes from before but otherwise looked completely undamaged. His gait was strange, too; different from what Akutagawa was accustomed to, and it took him a moment to recognize it was that this Atsushi moved with an easy confidence. He wasn’t even bothered that Akutagawa was sitting here. He wasn’t seen as a threat.

Akutagawa hated him.

Atsushi was carrying a tray with tea on it, he set it on the low table in front of Akutagawa. “I made tea,” he announced unnecessarily. Akutagawa did not move, continuing to stare at his own twin, silent. Atsushi slid up beside his other self, but Akutagawa noted he did not present his back once. “Do you remember this happening?” he asked the man he stood beside in a low voice; as if Akutagawa could not hear them speak from this proximity.

His twin shook his head once, sharply, not taking his eyes off Akutagawa. “Not at all.”

“Do you think an ability…?”

“Why are you conversing so casually with the weretiger?” Akutagawa snapped suddenly, eyes alight, interrupting their conversation. “What is he even doing here, and who are those children?”

Atsushi stepped forward, eyes flashing with something he’d never seen in his own weretiger’s eyes. “I’m here because I’m meant to be,” he said, sharply. “The children are not your concern, don’t speak of them.”

“Weretiger,” his other self murmured, admonishing, and Atsushi tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment but didn’t look back.

“He tried to kill me in front of them,” he said, anger brimming brightly in his voice. “They’re going to be sleeping in our bed for a week.”

“Your what?”

Akutagawa watched his other self catch the weretiger’s elbow and pull him back. His touch was clearly a familiar comfort, not even a hair adversarial. It felt wrong to even see it, and Akutagawa shuddered, pulling his coat tighter over his shoulders. “If he’s me,” the other Akutagawa said, voice soft and firm, “he’s not stupid, Atsushi. Go sit with the kids, they need reassurance. Let me talk to him.”

Atsushi sputtered and looked between Akutagawa and his double. The look he shot Akutagawa was one he was familiar with and Rashomon acted without guidance, rippling in a red tinge from his shoulders, prepared for a fight.

Instead of engaging, though, Atsushi looked away. He took a breath, looked the other Akutagawa in the eye, and then walked back the way the children had disappeared. His twin watched Atsushi leave, and when he turned back to face Akutagawa his face was dark.

“You had best come up with a reason for me not to take your head for threatening my family,” his other self said in a low, cold tone.

“Why are you with the enemy?”

“The weretiger has never been our enemy,” his other self walked forward, looking down at Akutagawa with eyes that seemed lighter than his own. “I don’t care if you’ve figured that out for yourself or not; but as I have no memory of this encounter that means you are not my past.” He slid his hands into his pockets and leaned forward, threat written all over his face. “Which also means it will cause my life no harm if I were to allow yours to end.”

Akutagawa rose from the couch, facing his twin, Rashomon looming large from his coat and matching the threat display with one of his own. “Try it,” he urged, voice hoarse. “Shall we fight here, make a mess of this nice little home where you’re kept like a pet?”

His twin’s eyes grew hard. His own Rashomon almost overrode the impulse to do precisely that, but he stood firm. “If you are manifested from an ability, or are here because of one, it will simply take Dazai-san to reverse it,” he said finally. “You don’t want to be here, and we don’t want you here. Can’t we find an accord until this is resolved?”

It was a reasonable enough request, although Akutagawa wasn’t particularly interested in complying. “An accord,” he repeated. “I have no need to agree to anything with you, or with anyone. What benefit do I have to an accord with you?”

“The benefit,” Akutagawa’s twin said, slowly, enunciating, “is that I keep my husband from tearing out your throat for even the shadow of the threat you just posed to our children.”

“You’ve gone soft to not do it yourself,” Akutagawa hissed, Rashomon darting forward to engage—but that tendril was severed by a black as night Rashomon blade; almost faster than he could see. Startled, he took a step back, legs banging into the coffee table and spilling the tea across the tray.

The other Akutagawa covered the distance between them, coming around the couch quickly. He got his hand in Akutagawa’s coat and their abilities thrummed together. Akutagawa froze, electricity prickling his skin, but his twin didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

“Make no mistake,” he hissed, “I do not cower behind my weretiger. But I made him a vow, and I keep my word.”

They stared, eye to eye, breathing hard—and then his twin released him, took a step back, and folded his arms. He exhaled a shaky breath before meeting Akutagawa’s eye again. “Besides,” he said, the ghost of a smirk appearing. “I know you do not appreciate it now, but there is something delightful about him covered in someone else’s blood.”

The two Akutagawas stared at each other silently for a long moment as he turned the option over in his head. Finally, Akutagawa folded his arms and looked away. “An accord,” he said. “You shall answer any questions I have, and I shall not bring harm to the children?”

His other self nodded, pose mirrored, arms folded.

The quicker he got out of this absurd situation, the better. “Fine then,” he said. “You have your accord. Take me to Dazai-san.”

=====

This request turned out to be more complicated than he anticipated. “Dazai-san’s phone is off,” Atsushi said, seated across from Akutagawa on the couch and holding his phone in front of him with one hand, irritation plainly evident in his voice. “Again.”

“Chuuya-san just got back from France,” his twin said from across the room. He was standing at the table, supervising the two children working on homework. They kept sneaking furtive glances at Akutagawa, and then looking back to their father. “What did you expect?”

“How is it he’s never around when we need him?”

“Dazai-oji is going to be at the party tonight,” the small version of himself said, his gaze darting from Akutagawa to Atsushi. “We’re still going…right?”

“Absolutely not,” Atsushi said, distracted, at the same time that the other Akutagawa said, “of course we are.”

They crossed gazes, amusingly, and Akutagawa took a sip of his tea, watching the silent conversation composed entirely of glares. Finally, Atsushi sighed, looked back at his phone, and said, “Yes, we’re still going.”

“Party?” Akutagawa enquired, although he didn’t properly care, the question was disruptive enough that it amused him. His tiny self’s head came up immediately.

“It’s a Halloween party,” he said enthusiastically before he could be shushed. “I’m going to be a detective, like father!”

Akutagawa raised an eyebrow. “Ryuu-chan,” Atsushi said in a warning tone, but then the other child’s head came up, holding his pencil in his hand like a weapon.

“And I’m gonna be Zorro! Did you see my sword?”

“Acchan—!”

“I’m gonna show him my sword!” Before he could be interrupted or stopped, the small version of Atsushi went straight over the table and dashed around the corner, striped tail trailing out behind him. Bewildered, Akutagawa looked over to Atsushi, who now had his head in both hands.

Akutagawa wasn’t certain how to phrase the question he wanted to ask, which rarely stopped but before he could the tiny Atsushi known as Acchan had returned, a familiar toy rapier in his hand. He bounded over the back of the couch with ease and sat next to Akutagawa fearlessly, proudly wielding his toy.

Atsushi’s head shot up, and he could see his other self start to move from out of the corner of his eye; as if he intended to remove the child from Akutagawa’s proximity. “See?” Acchan said, showing off the weapon. “It makes a whippy noise if you swing it around real fast but isn’t pointy at all!”

“I…see,” Akutagawa said, dryly, uncertain how to handle this.

“Acchan,” his twin said sharply, and Acchan’s enthusiasm wilted slightly. “If you wish to go to the party this evening, your homework must be completed.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, sliding off the couch cushion and retreating back to the table, sword still in hand.

“Where…?” That wasn’t the question he wanted to ask. Akutagawa inclined his head toward the table, as his other self leaned over and answered a question from Ryuu-chan. “How?”

“An ability,” Atsushi said, correctly interpreting his confusion. “Ranpo-san said it seemed like they were us, brought from another reality. When Dazai-san dispelled the ability, they stayed. So, Ryuu and I…” he shot an undisguised, fond look at the other Akutagawa that made his skin crawl, “we decided to raise them. Make sure they grew up safe and protected from anyone who’d try to use our abilities to do harm.”

Akutagawa turned this over in his head for a moment. He could at least see the weretiger doing this, but himself? Ridiculousness. “And you didn’t at least change their names?”

When the weretiger shrugged at him, he snorted. “Incredible that I would be so taken by you, do you have nothing but fluff between your ears?”

“You’re the one who put a ring on it,” Atsushi said smartly, holding up his left hand, but was distracted when his phone vibrated on his lap. “Oh, good news at least. Dazai-san will be at the party. They just might be late.”

“What’s the over/under on the appropriateness of his costume this year?”

“I don’t take bets with you; we share a bank account.” Atsushi glanced up at Akutagawa, who was watching the conversation with detached interest. “Last year Dazai-san came wearing only bandages,” he explained, and then shook his head. “Most people at least wear shorts under the bandages if they’re dressing as a mummy….”

“Most people also don’t attempt to fling themselves out the fifth-floor window when left to their own devices and the liquor unattended.”

“This is also true.” Atsushi scrolled through his phone for a second, clearly looking for proof that Akutagawa did not request but then got distracted, pulling up a picture and showing the phone to Akutagawa. It was a picture of the children, wearing their school uniforms and standing in front of a gate, looking proud of themselves.

Akutagawa stared at the picture and then looked at Atsushi, who was clearly beaming; and felt a weird twinge. He sat back in his seat, arms folded.

“I’m hungry,” Acchan complained from the table. “When are we gonna eat?”

Atsushi looked across the room at the other Akutagawa, and they did that silent communication thing again. “I forgot,” Atsushi said. “We were supposed to pick up groceries after we were done costume shopping.”

“I mean,” the other Akutagawa said, hands on the back of Ryuu-chan’s chair. “Things did take a turn on us.”

There was a pause, and Acchan said in the most dramatic, horrified, I’m dying voice a child had ever mustered, “No dinner!?”

=====

Akutagawa remained seated on the couch while his twin ordered dinner, Acchan circling his legs like a cat that hadn’t been fed in days. “He would eat us out of house and home if we let him,” Atsushi commented, noticing Akutagawa watching Acchan. “He’s never had sleep for dinner, though he tries to make you believe otherwise.”

That strange twinge again. Akutagawa looked at Atsushi, who was also watching Acchan, a fond, amused look on his face. Acchan had stopped circling Akutagawa, grabbed his toy rapier off the table, and zig-zagged it through the air.

It was, Akutagawa hated to admit, fascinating to watch this dynamic. As much as he loathed the weretiger he could respect that they at least worked well together, but to see that teamwork employed in something as mundane as wrangling kids to clean up for dinner was…something he’d never imagined.

Atsushi walked past, shouting something to the other Akutagawa, who was out of earshot through the kitchen. Now alone, Ryuu-chan took the opportunity to sneak over, staring at Akutagawa all the while.

Akutagawa stared down at this tiny version of himself; well-fed, in clean clothes, groomed and healthy. A proper childhood lay ahead of him, and he felt a small spark of envy for this child.

“Who are you?” Ryuu-chan asked him solemnly, grey eyes sharp.

Akutagawa stared imperiously down at him, but the child didn’t flinch from his gaze. He instead studied Akutagawa closely. “You look just like me and Dad,” he said. “But you’re not his brother, and you have the same ability as us. No one has the exact same ability.”

Akutagawa’s mouth quirked. “So who is it you think I am then, boy?”

“You’re me,” Ryuu-chan said it with no hesitation, a frown on his face while he contemplated this. “But you’re mean, and you made dad bleed.” His green sweater rippled with color, his own Rashomon rising from its threads, and his tiny face twisted, eyes flashing with just a hint of red. “Don’t hurt Dad again.”

“Ryuu-chan!” An enormous black Rashomon head plucked Ryuu-chan up by the sweater, scruffing him like a kitten. His green Rashomon collapsed into his clothing immediately, abashed. “Leave him alone,” his twin said severely, and Ryuu-chan darted another look at Akutagawa before nodding obediently.

Dinner was chaotic and loud, a spectacle all on its own. Akutagawa remained on the couch and observed from afar, a barely touched plate sitting by his knee on the table as he watched the family eat together at the table.

If he so wanted, he could strike at them easily, unguarded as they were. Atsushi’s back was to him, distracted by arguing with the other version of himself. He was more concerned with making sure Acchan didn’t inhale all the food before anyone else had their fair share of the portions; Atsushi said something in aggravation and his twin laughed. It was free and joyful and as unguarded as anything else happening at the moment.

He could strike at them, but he found he didn’t want to.

Akutagawa looked away, down at the portion of food on his plate he hadn’t touched. Atsushi had handed it off to him casually, unafraid, more concerned with the children than their uninvited guest. He despised the weretiger immensely but couldn’t bring himself to act upon it. He had struck an accord with himself, and like the man said he kept to his word. It was the fact that he didn’t want to that disquieted him the most.

Acchan had finished his vacuum cleaner impersonation and emptied the boxes of leftovers and now zeroed in on Akutagawa’s plate. He bounced over to the couch, put his hands on Akutagawa’s knee, and said, “If you’re done, I’ll take your plate!”

“Have at,” Akutagawa said, and Acchan sprung upon it. Atsushi sighed and got up from the table, and Akutagawa looked at him. “Tell me, are you a bottomless pit as well, weretiger?”

“He is,” his twin confirmed. “He just hides it better. Can’t keep anything in the refrigerator overnight, it’ll be gone by morning.”

“Hey,” Atsushi said, insulted. “I have better self-control than that.”

“Do you?” both Akutagawa and his twin said at the same time, and they looked at each other, surprised—his twin exhaled in amusement, while Akutagawa was horrified.

Atsushi ignored them both, touching the top of Acchan’s head. “If you’re so intent on cleaning everyone’s plates, Acchan, you get to do the dishes tonight.”

“Mwha?” Acchan’s dejection was muffled by his mouth full of bread.

“I can wash dishes,” Akutagawa said before he caught himself. Atsushi looked at him, startled, but Acchan put both his hands in the air, victorious.

“Yes! Thank you, ‘niisan!” Acchan ran his plate into the kitchen and disappeared up the stairs, presumably to get changed into his costume.

Akutagawa awkwardly stood in the kitchen with his twin, still entirely confused as to why he volunteered for this. He didn’t end up doing the washing but drying instead, while Atsushi stepped away to supervise the children changing into their costumes.

“Is it always like this?” he asked finally, tone strangely subdued. He didn’t know what this was, but when he looked up from drying the plate in his hands it was to his own face, looking softly amused.

“Never a dull moment,” his twin said, with a fond tinge to his tone that Akutagawa didn’t recognize, as he’d never used it. He rinsed another plate and handed it to Akutagawa. “I hope one day you’ll find your own peace, with the weretiger or otherwise. It is hard to achieve, but it’s worth it.”

Akutagawa shook his head, still drying the plate and refusing to look at him. “It’s nothing someone like me deserves.”

“Maybe not.” Akutagawa’s other self turned off the faucet, draining the sink. “But those kids deserve safety and security. I can’t atone for everything I’ve done, but I can be a better person for them.”

Akutagawa finished drying the drinkware as his twin left to go change as well, leaving him alone in their house for the first time since he’d arrived. Akutagawa lined the cups on the counter and stared at them for a moment; four different cups, two hardy plastic and two dinged but well-used glasses.

He looked around the kitchen, at the appliances and cupboards; scuffs and dents, a small chunk of plaster missing from the drywall around child-height, a faded scorch mark on the wall behind the stove.

Then he folded the dishtowel he’d been using for drying over the edge of the sink and returned to the main room.

Acchan was already there waiting, in a cape and a mask on his face, wearing a large-brimmed hat with a rakish tilt. “Look,” he said, drawing his toy sword from the red sash around his waist and flicking it around in the air, before jumping on the couch.

Rashomon reacted before Akutagawa did; but instead of tendrils darting out to skewer, they were blunted, batting at the toy sword, giving Acchan something to fence. “Acchan!” Atsushi yelled, seeing Rashomon’s movement—but halted just around the corner, a hat in both hands. Akutagawa looked at him impassively, allowing Rashomon to collapse back into his coat, and Atsushi squeezed the hat, giving Akutagawa a long look.

“Dad, you’re yelling a lot tonight,” Acchan said, one hand on the back of the couch, feet firmly on the cushions.

“Yeah, well, you know you’re not supposed to jump on the furniture,” Atsushi said, waving the Stetson at him like he was a misbehaving farm animal. “Come on, leave him alone, we’re almost ready.”

“But ‘niisan doesn’t have a costume,” Acchan protested.

“I do,” Akutagawa said dryly. When Acchan looked back at him, eyes wide, Akutagawa tugged on his collar, making it stand up properly. “I’m a mafioso.”

“Chuuya-oji is a mafioso,” Acchan said dismissively. “That’s not a costume.” Atsushi choked, covering his mouth with one hand to not laugh out loud and ignoring Akutagawa’s glare as he moved past. “Oh! I know!”

Acchan disappeared back the way he’d come as Ryuu-chan and his father emerged from the stairwell. Ryuu-chan was wearing an Inverness cape and a deerstalker, clutching a comically large magnifying glass; while Akutagawa’s twin was wearing a dark cape with purple lining over regular clothing and a tall, soft-looking floppy hat with a wide brim.

“Wizard?” Akutagawa asked, and Ryuu-chan shook his head negatively.

“Father’s a witch,” he said forcefully, and his twin gave Akutagawa a pained look, having clearly been through this many times.

Acchan tumbled down the stairs behind them, a blur of motion and holding aloft something in one hand. “Here, here!” he said, waving it before Akutagawa could identify the object. “You can be a vampire since you look like one already!”

The other Akutagawa covered his mouth and started coughing obnoxiously loud, clearly trying to stifle straight-up laughter. Akutagawa ignored him as Acchan deposited the item, now revealed to be a set of flimsy plastic fangs, into Akutagawa’s open hand.

“You know,” he said, pointing at his twin, “he used to dress like me.”

Acchan turned to his father, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Well, duh,” Ryuu-chan said. “We have pictures, ‘niisan.”

This response did not in fact help clear up the other Akutagawa’s coughing fit. Atsushi reappeared, now wearing the cowboy hat he’d been carrying and looking a goddamn ridiculous sight in his fringed vest and chaps. “You okay?” he asked, clearly concerned at the other Akutagawa’s coughing fit, and touched the small of his back. His twin nodded, finally getting his reaction under control.

They seemed to have decided that Akutagawa posed them no threat, as they walked in front of him. Rashomon had emerged from his twin’s cape, loosely wrapped around Acchan’s chest like a harness since he wasn’t interested in holding hands, and instead ran ahead, sword at the ready.

Atsushi and the other Akutagawa walked hand in hand, and Ryuu-chan held Atsushi’s other hand. They looked just like any family out for Halloween; dressed up in costumes and keeping track of excited kids, and they were holding hands. Akutagawa kept staring at that casual touch and wondering why it made his throat ache.

It didn’t matter why it made his throat ache.

They’d meet Dazai-san at this party, Dazai-san would negate this ability that was affecting him, and he would be home. It would soon be over, and this weird little family could go on and he could forget this ever happened, ascribe it to a bad dream, and move on with his life.

Akutagawa stopped walking.

Neither Atsushi nor the other Akutagawa seemed to realize, talking quietly with each other, in their own little world. Ryuu-chan noticed, though—he looked over his shoulder at Akutagawa, but didn’t say anything to his father. He waved his free hand, and Akutagawa found himself raising his own hand in acknowledgment, as the small family turned the corner and walked out of sight.

=====

The park that overlooked the bay wasn’t that busy after dark, which was fine. It was Halloween, there were events all over the city, it kept people busy and indoors, out of this frigid night air. Akutagawa folded his arms and looked out across the water, waves choppy.

He didn’t know what he wanted, now. He wanted none of this, but the way it felt like the first clean breath of air after drowning for so long kept haunting him. This wasn’t meant for someone like him, it never would be.

Akutagawa sat on a park bench and wondered if his absence had finally been noticed. Would they look for him? Or had he already been forgotten, the fragment of another life already lost?

He folded his arms, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

=====

“Did you sleep out here?”

Akutagawa opened his gummy eyes to see Atsushi standing in front of him, looking disgusted. He had both his hands on his hips and that accursed belt was jaunted out at an angle as if it were telegraphing its wearer’s emotions. Akutagawa blinked at him and scowled, then turned his head and coughed.

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion on my accommodations, weretiger,” he said, folding his arms again.

“Yeah, and I thought you weren’t a bum that slept on the streets,” Atsushi snapped back. “What the hell are you doing out here, anyway?” He paused, the irritation dropping from his voice for a moment, the concern he carried for others emerging. “Is everything…okay?”

Akutagawa’s eyes darted to his hands, but he was wearing his fingerless gloves. Akutagawa exhaled and slid forward on the bench, standing and refusing to let show how stiff he was. “I just had the strangest dream, is all,” he said. “It was a peaceful world. You weren’t in it.”

“Oh ha ha,” Atsushi said, but there was still concern in his golden-violet eyes. “Are you sure that you’re okay, Akutagawa?”

Akutagawa slid his hands into his pockets and managed to maintain his neutral expression when one touched a set of plastic fangs. Surprised, he curled his hand around them and rubbed his thumb over the blunted plastic point of a tooth, before letting out a vocal scoff.

“Don’t waste your concern on me,” he said, tilting his head back. “There are more important things for you to worry about, weretiger.”

Akutagawa glanced out at the pink-grey skies over the water, hand still clasped tight around the plastic toy, and headed home.

#bungou stray dogs #sskk #shin soukoku #sskk² #sskkbb23 #fluff #squints and throws into the tag before returning to my safe space under the couch

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moonyeyes · 7 months

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nothing just BEAST sskk

#is this angst or fluff..#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs beast #bsd beast #beast akutagawa #beast atsushi #akutagawa #atsushi #akutagawa ryuunosuke #atsushi nakajima #sskk #shin soukoku #my art #fanart #digital art #tw scars

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ennuiraveen · 27 days

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*Slips you a totally not late Akutagawa birthday post* Shhh, 🤫 you didn’t see a thing.

#bsd fanart #bungou stray dogs #artists on tumblr #atsushi nakajima #bsd atsushi #bsd sskk #bungou gay dogs #shin soukoku #sskk #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke #akutagawa birthday #bsd art #fluff

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kawataslvr · 1 month

Text

Summary : More of a crack fic tbh, no real warnings apart from cursing. YOUR ONLY 2 YEARS YOUNGER BTW

A/N : I didn’t know what to write but didn’t wanna not write 😔, off topic but i actually rlly like the idea of Shinichiro X Waka’s younger brother.

“YOU WERE WHAT.” really, the words had slipped from Shinichiro’s mouth, he was going to have more than one Imaushi on his ass now.

Wakasa slammed down his hands on the work table in the back of the bike shop, it was closed by now. It was late.

Shinichiro had no idea how to respond, this was a horrible way to confess he'd been involved with his brother for so long.

Through a sex joke.

———

Wakasa chuckled as the two discussed his younger brother “He was practically shoving it down his throat. I'm sure he liked it.”

“I was shoving it down his throat last night.” Shinichiro said bluntly, and quite confidently and loudly at that.

Wakasa’s smile had never DROPPED faster.

———

Which is what led to this situation. “It was just on instinct I promise!” Shinichiro tried to cover it up.

“INSTINCT MY ASS.” He looked at the ravenette straight in the eyes with a furios expression.

“It really was! If you had said that about anyone else I would've said the same thing!”

It was late and Wakasa was tired, he was about to head home anyways.. he let it slide under his radar, for now.

———

Wakasa finally got home and saw his younger brother on the couch sleeping, with the tv on. You probably had fallen asleep watching whatever show was on at the time.

Debating whether to wake you up and ask you about Shin, he ended up doing it.

“mmmm.. yes Wakaa?” you looked up at the older dude, yawning and sitting up. Still very noticeably half asleep.

The only thing you were focusing on was getting this over as quickly as possible before so you could go back to sleep, clearly not in a good state of mind.

“Are you and Shinichiro together?”

“mm.. yeah we are..”

Wakasa felt his blood BOIL.

“Have you two done anything together?”

“mhm..”

Silence filled the room, you flopped back down and laid down on the couch to go back to sleep again.

If it wasn’t for the fact Wakasa didn't wanna wake you again, he might’ve even started rampaging.

But, he let you sleep.

He wanted to confront you and Shinichiro.

At the same time.

———

You woke up on the couch with a blanket and pillow on you, and Shinichiro sitting down on the matching loveseat beside the two seater you were laying on.

Amd Wakasa on the other couch, you shot up a little too quickly from your seat seeing the scene.

You were used to waking up to Wakasa’s friends at the house, but Wakasa looked so mad.

So serious.

“Y/N, you finally woke up.” Wakasa’s tone sounded dead panned.

You rubbed your eyes awake glancing at Shinichiro then back at Wakasa, you had an idea of what he found out about.

“So, Shinichiro.. mind explaining why you broke bro code?” you froze, fuck, did Wakasa already find out? Shinichiro stayed quiet for a few seconds.

“You told me that I should try experimenting with more than just girls!”

“SO YOU GO AND FUCK MY BABY BROTHER?” Wakasa shot back immediately, he’d always been a lazy guy, he wanted to punch the dark haired man more than anyone else in the world.

“I DON’T GET TO CHOOSE WHO MY HEART LIKES!”

“BUT YOU CAN CONTROL YOUR FUCKING DICK!”

“YOUR BROTHER HAS A NICE ASS!”

The room went silent, your face turning a bright red from embarrassment. Wakasa’s turning red from anger.

Shinichiro quickly regretted his words, hating how things kept slipping in and out of his mouth, almost like he did inside yo—

Wakasa lunged at Shinichiro, and he would've hit him if you didn’t grab hold of the ravenette and move him towards your body.

“Y/N what the hell!” Wakasa said angrily, Shinichiro couldn’t help but laugh at the scene.

“C’mon Wakaaa he clearly likes me more, especially the way I treat him at ni—“ This time you were the one to hit Shinichiro.

A harsh slap across the face, a few seconds after and a proud Wakasa till the situation calmed down.

Wakasa, still furios about all the sex jokes Shinichiro made, but coming to terms with the relationship between you two.

“If you touch my brother again I’ll snap your neck in half Sano.” You and Shinichiro gave a light laugh, “I’m not joking. A pillow between you two right now.” He stood up and put the pillow you were previously sleeping on and set it between you and the older.

“Wakasa!” you protested grabbing the pillow and throwing it at him, Shinichiro started laughing again. Wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close to his own.

“Get your hands off him you fucking—!”

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anime-fan-05 · 6 months

Note

hey, i was wondering if you could do shin headcanons? <3

Nana ~General dating headcanon~

Manga/anime: Nana

Warnings: nothing

(Y/N): your name

O. Shin'ichi (Shin)

I tell you one thing: you're really lucky Shin unfolded himself enough to let you be his girlfriend. He's a person who doesn't trust others; your presence probably made him so much at ease he decided he wanted to be with you as your boyfriend: in fact, when he starts a romantic relationship with a person, know he'll want to spend his whole life with them, since he isn't the type of guy who is engaged to a person just for fun. He has very serious intentions with you!

Shin will probably continue to prostitute himself, but not because he wants to have a full barrel and a drunk wife: he only does this to survive economically. In fact, if BLAST achieved success or if you were very rich, Shin would immediately stop prostituting himself and he would dedicate himself totally to you

Shin loves when you listen to him play during BLAST concerts or during rehearsals: the fact you dedicate your time to come and listen to him makes him happy, especially if you don't like that kind of music too much. He also really likes it when you cuddle together in bed or on the couch: holding you close to him makes him feel so good he would like to hold you in his arms forever

However, I think Shin's first love language is words of affirmation: he knows what it feels like to not be loved and how it feels when people ignore you, so he always tries to make you feel loved by saying sweet words to you. For example, whenever you wear a really cute dress, he always compliments you ("You look beautiful, (Y/N)."), and he always notice if you cut your hair or paint your nails and point it out to you ("Have you done anything to your hair/nails? You look very good."). He also tells you very often he loves you: as soon as he wakes up and before going to sleep, he always sends you a message (when you don't sleep together), writing he loves you very much; he tells you this even when you get together after not seeing each other for a long time

Shin doesn't really call you by a nickname: mostly he calls you by your name, sometimes also "love" or "my love"

If you didn't know, the saying "to have a full barrel and a drunk wife" (avere la botte piena e la moglie ubriaca) is an Italian saying which means having two mutually exclusive advantages.

💮 Rules 💮 Masterlist 💮

#nana #nana x reader #nana headcanon #nana fluff #shin nana #shin x reader #shin headcanon #shin fluff #shinichi okazaki #shinichi okazaki x reader #shinichi okazaki headcanon #shinichi okazaki fluff

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cxl0verh0ard3rxxx · 2 years

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Shin Tsukimi Fluff Alphabet

A = Attractive what do they find attractive about the other?

He’d find your intellect attractive.

B = Baby do they want a family? why/why not?

Probably not since he struggles to support himself.

C = Cuddle how do they cuddle? There are two types of cuddles. Type one is when you initiate it, hes usually stiff at first however will adjust in 5 minutes or so. Type two is after he gets back from work and clings onto you like an absolute child.

D = Dates what are dates with them like? Hes one for movie nights and random road trips?? Also late night drives.

E = Everything you are my ____ (e.g my life, my world…) You are my motivation.

F = Feelings when did they know they were falling in love? When you told him that hes doing the best he can. (This was months into your friendship with him.)

G = Gentle are they gentle? If so, how?

Yes he is, would never want to hurt you.

H = Hand/Hold how do they like to hold hands? He will hold your hand loosely. However if he is anxious then he will hold your hand tightly in his.

I = Impression first impression/s It depends on your personality, I think he would be intrigued if anything no matter who you are really.

J = Joker are they into pulling pranks? Depends how far into your relationship you are, if you guys are far in then he would pull more lighthearted pranks, if you guys weren't exactly that far in yet, then he would make jokes at best.

K = Kisses how do they kiss? Soft and passionately. He gives you a quick goodbye kiss when hes off to work. Whenever you guys are both free he will usually take his time when kissing you.

L = Love who says I love you first? He tried. He failed due to his anxiety, you probably said it first because of this.

M = Memory their favorite moment together

You and him were outside while it was snowing and you hugged him and then went in between him and his jacket because you were cold, he blushed profusely after the interaction.

N = Nickel do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything? Him being tight on money its not often but not necessarily rare, he does it whenever he has spare money after necessities. (hes trying lmao)

O = Orange what color reminds them of their other half

Jungle green, the color reminds him of spring which also reminds him of you, always bringing the light into his gloomy days.

P = Petnames what pet names do they use? Probably uses “dear” or “babe” the most.

Q = Quaint what is their favorite non-modern thing? Not a favorite thing, more of how he says things thats quaint?? He uses older terminology, for instance he calls a radio “the wireless.” One of the things you didn't expect out of him.

R = Rainy Day what do they like to do on a rainy day? Stay in a watch a show or movie with you, also cuddles!

S = Sad how do they cheer themselves/each other up Immediately when he is sad he goes to you for affection, hes all over you. Very clingy and cuddly. When you're sad on the other hand he does whatever he can, will listen to you vent and try to give you advice (only if you ask!). Will give you space if you need it, or if you want to cuddle then hes fine with that too. Tries his best to keep your mind off things and make you happy since you mean the world to him <3.

T = Talking what do they love to talk about? He asks about your day a lot, will also show you random memes that make no sense but are somehow funny. If you ask him how work was he will usually say it was pretty boring (on the inside hes got butterflies because you care for him so much).

U = Unencumbered What helps them relax?

Rainy days, the sound of rain hitting the windows calms him, probably enjoys thunderstorms for this reason as well.

V - Very thoughts about each other He thinks you're absolutely stunning in so many ways, he could look into your eyes for hours.

W = Wedding when, how, where do they propose? Wont propose until you guys have been together for well over a year, doesn't mean he hasn't thought of it though. Would like to keep things simple yet special.

X = Xylophone What’s their song?

Money - The Drums

Y = You the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

“You are the spark to my lighter.”

Z = Zebra if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?

Cat. Hes definitely a cat guy, he wants a lap cat.

Send me asks if you'd like!

-Mod Kaito

#shin tsukimi #sou hiyori #your turn to die #yttd x reader #shin x reader #shin tsukimi x reader #shin x gn reader #fluff #shin fluff #fluff alphabet #shin x gn!reader

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inamagicalhallucination · 9 months

Text

high school no powers au where akutagawa, in all his grumpy emo glory, says he has a boyfriend when someone asks him why he turns down all the ppl that confess to him but said boyfriend goes to another school

obviously no one believes him

but atsushi, does in fact go to a different school - working to catch up to his grade level after not getting a proper education at his orphanage - he's been planning on transferring to akutagawa's school, especially since kunikida-san and dazai-san go there too and have been so helpful helping him study and the such

he wonders if his ryuu knows his friends :)

anyway

he transfers in eventually and now everyone has to deal w/ the fact that akutagawa wasnt lying boom

#add in a lot of crack fluff and dumb ass shit and boom #best fic ever #how does he get out of the orphanage idk oda or fukuzawa #atsushi nakajima #bungou stray dogs atsushi #shin soukoku #sskk #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd atsushi #akutagawa x atsushi #akuatsu #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bungo stray dogs akutagawa

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taesanrot · 3 months

Text

shinyu (tws) x reader | 0.2k

music played softly from the speakers of your laptop, it and the rest of your study materials long forgotten on your desk.

you sighed in bliss at the feeling of shinyu's lips covering yours. your arms wound around his shoulders, keeping you steady as you rested on his thighs. his hands roamed your sides and back, the way he was teasing and playing with the end of your shirt was making your head spin; you were practically melting into him.

you detached your mouth from his with a soft pop and watched him slowly open his eyes, his hooded gaze making you shiver.

he was beautiful, brown hair tousled from the friction of your hands and the headboard that he was resting against. his lips were as plump and bruised as yours, blooming red and pink and purple. his hand came up to trace the line of your jaw, curling a tendril of your hair behind your ear. your hot breaths intermixed as he pulled you impossibly closer, placing wet kisses down from the shell of your ear to your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder.

he felt like heaven against your skin. and you whispered into his hair that you wished you could stay like this forever. his free hand found your own, wrapping his fingers around yours and you knew he wanted nothing but the same.

#tws pledis #tws imagines #tws fics #shinyu #tws shinyu #shinyu fics #shinyu imagines #tws fluff #shin junghwan #shinyu x reader #tws x reader #twenty four seven with us #shin junghwan x reader

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kazutora-kurokawa · 2 months

Note

Not sure if your request are open but would love to request TR guys (your choice) <<baji/kazutora>> x Y/N who is tomboyish but still very naturally pretty. Thank you ❤️‍🔥

TokRev x Pretty!Tomboy!Reader

♡ SFW, fem reader, fluff, misgendering ♡

Characters: Baji, Kazutora, Shinichiro

note: this was such a cute request anon 🌸

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Baji

🔥 Ran into you while he was getting chased by some rival gang members

🔥 Thought you were one of those gang members for a second because you were dressed in baggy clothes, probably mistaked your phone in your hand for a weapon (I love this goddamn idiot)

🔥 Doesn't even have time to admire your beauty and he also doesn't want to get you caught up in a fight so he just scoops you up and apologizes for it while running away with you in his arms

🔥 You end up at the shrine Toman meets at and all the captains are confused as hell

"Damn Baji, did you kidnap a princess on your way here?"

🔥 Once he noticed how pretty you were he was blushing so hard, internally screaming and fanboying about how cute you are

Timeskip!Kazutora

🐯 Literally wanted to disappear when he saw you because you were so beautiful he just knew he was about to embarrass himself in front of you

🐯 The only one to not misgender you (he's probably been mistaken for a woman before lol, he's just too pretty)

🐯 Almost exploded (not in a sexual way, but let's be honest he probably would) when you complimented his tattoo, if you like tigers he's yours at this point (someone give this man some affection)

🐯 Chifuyu had to tell him to stop awkwardly staring at you and just ask you out already (Chifuyu best wingman fr)

Shinichiro

🏍️ When you first walked into his bikeshop he just thought you were a feminine looking guy

🏍️ Then you opened your mouth and you had the sweetest voice ever, this man was shook

🏍️ Stumbles over his words while talking to you because you're literally one of the prettiest girls he's ever seen in his life (and he's been rejected by 20 so that's saying something)

🏍️ Nervously asks you out and tells Waka, Benkai and Takeomi about you later

🏍️ They don't believe him even when he introduces you to them because how is someone like you with Shinichiro 😭

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katshimizuu @happy-trenchcoated-impala @rindousbarbie @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @livefromnc

#tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #baji fluff #kazutora fluff #shinichiro fluff #Shin and Tora are such damn losers they're so fucking cute

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nichuuu · 6 months

Text

Dried Things & Humanity

말린 것들과 인류

Word count: 13k+ SMUTLESS FIC

"The world, after all, was still a place of bottomless horror. It was by no means a place of childlike simplicity where everything could be settled by a simple then-and-there decision" ~Osamu Dazai

Dried flowers.

They sat by your bedside, a constant reminder of how far you would go for love—A love that would never be anything more than a short-lived euphoria. They’d died some time ago, wilting rather quickly under a lack of care, but you kept them. The text that came when spring first rolled around saying hey let’s break up was not expected, neither was the part where she blocked you, nor was the part where you almost jumped off a bridge. Yet it all happened, a confusing, muddled, mish mash of events that went down over the span of a week. If it weren’t for your friends, you would be at the bottom of the river by now, joining your grandfather and maybe your family dog up in the clouds, or wherever it was that spirits wandered to. At the moment, getting out of this life didn’t seem like too bad of an idea.

You stupid child! Your mother had chided when she found out about what you almost did. What do you think you would’ve achieved with that? What good will it do?

Then she hugged you, held you tight and sobbed as she thanked god for letting you live another day. Frankly, you didn’t know what was the appropriate response for your mother. You opted to hug her back, tearfully whispering your endless apologies to her. Even though you promised to never make another attempt on your life, the fear of losing her only boy still lingered in your mother’s mind. Your mother and father were always in the office. So, in fear that living alone would drive you to the worst possible option, she sent you to live with your uncle who ran a secondhand bookshop in a small town not too far from the city. She filled him in with what happened and pleaded for him to help you “recover”.

“Don’t worry little sis,” he assured your mother. He threw an arm around you, “I’ll take care of him like he’s my own son. We’ll get along, won’t we?”

Park Sang-hoon—the people living in the area called him “the librarian”—was your mother’s older brother. You hadn’t seen him since you graduated from middle school, and he’d certainly aged from the last time you saw him. The hair that was once jet black and slicked back was turning white and receding. The same friendly complexion remained however, the amiable smile that you remembered greeting you when he opened the door to his house. It was a stone's throw away from the bookstore.

The house and the business had been imparted upon him by your grandparents. It was relatively small, but there was enough room for the two of you to live with your own privacy (though that didn't really matter since he’d just come barging into the room you stayed in anyway.)

The door to your room flung open. “Hey kid! Rise and shine!”

You grumbled something incoherent and pulled the blanket over your head.

“Up! Up! It’s time to get up!” your uncle bellowed in a sing-song tone, “there are so many things to see and do! Get up you lazy child!”

Your blanket was yanked off your entire body.

“Is this really necessary?” you snapped. Your uncle grinned.

“No. But it’s fun,” he beamed. You rolled your eyes and rolled onto your left side, you back facing him,

“Leave me alone…” you muttered, “let me sleep…”

“I’ve been letting you do that for the past week,” your uncle huffed, “now your mother is calling me, demanding to know if you’d even emerged from this room. She said some mean things to me, you know?”

You sighed and turned onto your back. “I’ll go out tomorrow…”

Your uncle sighed. “Let me tell you something…”

Let me tell you something was the signal for you to tune out. “Let me tell you something”, “Let me tell you this”—your uncle always said these before he launched into a long rambling story that really added no value to what he was trying to say. It was either that or he’d leave you with a cryptic message to decipher yourself. You never understood why he did that, it was probably just an old people thing.

By the time he was done with his little storytime, you were still in bed. With another heavy sigh, your uncle said, “fine… If you’re not gonna go anywhere today, at least come and help me with the store.”

Your mind told you to stay in bed, but your body told you that you needed to get outside. You decided to listen to the latter party for once.

The bookshop was old, one of those shophouses down a stretch of road that townsfolk usually walked past on the daily. Needless to say, the store wasn’t the most appealing from the outside. The inside however—That was something else.

You remembered visiting the bookstore with your mother once or twice. A stack of books nearly fell on you that time, and your uncle was berated rather viciously. He’d definitely made some improvements in the time you were away. The store was warm, cosy and relatively organised. The shelves were evidently a little worn from the years, but they still looked and felt sturdy to the touch. It was a welcoming environment, the interior bearing a striking resemblance to a bookstore of the early 90s.

“I’ve kept up with the times!” your uncle boasted proudly, “nowadays everyone and their mothers are all into this retro aesthetic, so I made sure to keep as much of the hip and cool retro feel.”

Your uncle definitely did his research. You couldn’t help but look upon the shelves filled with books with awe. “This is…”

“Pretty lit, am I right?” your uncle grinned. You cringed.

Your uncle frowned. “What? Did I not use the phrase correctly?”

“N-No it’s just… Ah whatever,” you muttered.

“Damn… I swear I had the meaning for that one down,” your uncle muttered, “the slang of the youth… Such an odd thing.”

After giving you a little more time to admire the place, your uncle tossed you an apron and instructed you to put it on.

“I’m alright with letting you stay with me for free,” your uncle told you as he helped you tie the strings of the apron behind your back, “but I won’t let you wallow in this post-breakup sadness all day.”

He spun you around, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “You just graduated from highschool, no?”

You nodded.

“Perfect, you’ll need some job experience then,” he grinned, “from now on. You’ll work for me till your stay here is over!”

And so it began. From that day onwards, you started filling shelves, dusting books, pasting on price tags and flipping through pages of books that had been sold to the store to assess the state of the book. It was far from enjoyable in the beginning. It felt akin to the life of Andy Dufrane in Shawshank redemption, the same old routine repeated day after day in what felt like an endless cycle. You were up early in the morning to open the shop with your uncle, the brown apron on your person by 7am in the morning and the door to the shop open by 9am after you were with the opening up preparations. You had to flip the plastic sign hanging on the door from “open” to “closed” every morning, and from “open” back to “closed” in the late evenings. Lunch was usually around 12pm, where your uncle would go out to one of the nearby restaurants to get lunch for the two of you. You’d sit opposite each other in the small break room that sat behind the counter, munching on whatever he bought.

Handling customers was also another gruelling task. You admittedly didn’t have a voracious appetite for books, many authors sounding foreign to you. A good majority of the books that the store had on hand were classics from esteemed authors, varying in language, length and appeal. When customers asked you what you’d recommend, you could only shrug, earning yourself a nasty gare before they walked off. When they asked about the disparity between the prices of the same book, you could only stare blankly before calling to your uncle.The store had duplicates of some books, the only thing separating the copies being the cover art or the type of book cover.

“Let me tell you something,” your uncle had told you one fine day, “hardcover books are much more valuable than the usual soft cover books. You want to know why?”

That last part wasn’t a question, rather more of a filler. Apparently, a hardcover was typically more durable, allowing it to better protect the pages within. This meant that the book would stay in better condition for longer. Ultimately, the process and materials needed for hardcover book printing were more expensive, hence this cost is passed on to readers.

“Capitalism,” you muttered, placing the hardcover version of Greek Lessons by Han Kang on the shelf.

As for the cover art—Some covers were objectively more appealing than the other, making the book more valuable. This was the case for Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human. The two covers looked about the same to you.

On some days, you wondered how such an old secondhand bookstore could’ve lasted for so long. There were days where you only sold two books for little Won each, and those were typically on weekdays where some of the townsfolk—usually on the more elderly side—would come through the doors and browse through the books. But on the weekends, you were reminded just how hectic this place could get. The youth from the city loved to flood the shop over the weekends, making the commute from the heart of the country to this small shop in a small town to browse through the seemingly endless selection of books.The line to the counter often snaked out the door and onto the street on those days, and your fingers would be aching by the end of the day—A byproduct of gripping those handles of those paper bags while struggling to get them open.

After a week or two, you got used to the whole routine. It didn’t help to remove the monotony of your tasks however, and you often found yourself wondering how your uncle could run this place on his own for so long. With the memories of your ex still tormenting your mind, you found it hard to focus on your tasks at times. Sometimes, you just didn’t want to get up in the mornings. The dried flowers by your bedside were a constant reminder of the pain. You’d bought them for her on the day that text came, now you couldn’t let go of them.

One evening, your uncle decided to close up the shop a little earlier. It’d been a slow Wednesday, so there was no harm in resting up a little earlier than usual.

“Come with me,” he told you after he’d locked the shutter in place, “I want to take you somewhere.”

You walked up the stretch with him, walking past the rows of shophouses that lined the street. You saw bookstores that looked similar to your uncle’s a couple of times, prompting you to wonder just how many people sold secondhand books on this stretch.

He took you to a small bridge at the end of the road. It was one of those old, traditional Korean bridges with the stone tiling that arched over the water. He took you up to its apex and made you look out into the water.

“What do you see?” he asked you.

“Is this one of those stupid lectures again?” you muttered.

“Just answer me.”

You sighed. “I see the water and some trees.”

“Good. What else?” he urged.

“There’s nothing else,” you told him.

“Wrong. Look again.”

You rolled your eyes and set your sights a little further. “I see Cogongrass.”

“What else?”

You were certain that this was one of his stupid little talks again. “Just tell me what you want to say, uncle!”

“Always so impatient…” he chuckled.

Gently, he grabbed your chin and tipped it up. With his other hand, he pointed out into the distance—Past the trees, water, the cogon grass and the roofs of the shophouses. There, you saw the mountains and the roads that stretched for kilometres, the faint shape of those big blue signs that pointed you in the directions to different places.

“You limit yourself to what you see in this area,” he explained, “but you fail to see past this river and this small town.”

He turned you back to face him. You were a little taller than him, so he had to look up at you. He placed both his hands on your shoulders, holding them firmly.

“You must learn to set your sights further, dear nephew,” he told you, “learn to see past the trees and the water in your mind. Then and only then, will you be able to live once more.”

The cryptic message left you admittedly puzzled on the way home. It took you some thinking to read between the lines and understand what your uncle had told you—You had to look past the memories of your ex in order to move on with your life.

“Excellent,” your uncle had praised when you knocked on his door to ask if your interpretation of his message was correct, “I hope that you can remember this. I hate to see you moping around my store. It scares my customers away too!”

Your first step in looking past the memories was to toss out the dried flowers from your bedside. Even though it was painful, you did it. You knew you needed to.

In its place by your bedside, you bought an alarm clock—one of those old ones that still used the hammers to knock the two small bells—And a framed photograph of the town. You bought both of them from one of the nice old ladies who ran a souvenir shop just down the road.

It was the start of a new beginning. It felt like you were human once more.

***

Dried Persimmon.

That was what you were munching on when you were handed your first paycheck from your uncle.

“W-Why are you paying me?” you stammered, “I-I thought this was just something to occupy my time!”

“I may be cheap, but I won’t exploit my own nephew!” your uncle laughed, “now quit sneaking snacks on your shift and get back to work!”

You knew that your uncle was generous, but you never expected him to be this generous. With a smile, you wiped the bits of the dried fruit from the corners of your lips before pocketing the envelope.

“Thanks,” you beamed. You raised the small jar of dried persimmons and asked, “want one?”

“Tsk. I’m a professional, I don’t eat on my shift,” he sneered.

“You sure?” you confirmed, “this is a fresh batch from Miss Cho’s…”

“From Miss Cho’s?” he gasped, “gimme some of that!”

You had become well acquainted with the townsfolk, especially with the ones that ran the stores on the same stretch as the bookstore. Sometimes, the sweet old ladies from down the road would come in to deliver some gifts to you and your uncle. Everyone seemed to be friends in this town. Miss Cho was one of the many townsfolk that specialised in dried goods. A sweet lady really, a little older than your mother but not as old as your uncle. Persimmons were seasonal fruits, so they were naturally high in demand in late spring.

You let your uncle take one piece of the dried fruit before closing the lid and setting it atop the table in the break room. Your uncle stepped aside to let you exit, and you went to continue your shift.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take too long to move on from your ex. Yes, you did share some fond memories with her, but you found these “core memories” made with her easy to forget. She no longer appeared in your dreams, neither did you think about her when you were going about your tasks. She’d become a distant pain, a pain that you never intend to revisit.

Once, she did happen to come by the bookstore on a weekend. She walked into the crowded store, hand in hand with a brand new boyfriend while you were calculating somebody’s purchase. You caught yourself staring at her as she browsed through the books, her boyfriend lingering close by as he read over her shoulder. It was then that your uncle firmly grabbed you by the shoulder. He’d seen pictures of her. He could recognise her on sight

“Look past the trees and the water,” he reminded you, before going back to checking out books. You tore away your gaze from them and continued with your work.

When she came out to the counter to pay, the look of shock on her face almost made you want to double over in laughter. Swiftly and wordlessly, you took her books and packaged them neatly in a bag.

“That will be forty-thousand Won ma’am,” you had smiled respectfully. She was still staring at you, her mouth open in the shape of an “o”. Her boyfriend had to pay and take the goods from you before directing her out of the store.

When they left, your uncle gave you a gentle pat on your hand. Well done was what he was trying to say.

True to your uncle’s lesson, once you had gotten over her, you felt like you were alive. You found that you quickly took a liking to this new lifestyle, immersing yourself in the wide array of books that were at your disposal and even taking home a few to read. It felt like a fresh new chapter had begun in your life, and you were more than ready to welcome its start. The monotony was now welcomed in this slower-paced segment of your life.

“By the way,” your uncle called to you as you set down a box of books. He’d just bought them off a guy moving overseas. “I have a feeling that business will start to pick up soon!’

“Why’s that?” you asked.

“You’ll see…” he smiled. He popped another dried persimmon into his mouth. “Damn! This batch is bussin!”

You cringed. You could get used to life in this small town, but you knew that you’d never get used to your uncle throwing out the slang of your generation. You wondered if he had Tik Tok on his phone or if he’d seen one too many Instagram reels.

With your box cutter, you cut open the tape that sealed the cardboard box, the one that housed the goods. You opened the box.

“The hell…” you muttered as you stared at the books within, “who did you get these off?”

“Some preschool principal. What’s up?” your uncle asked.

You produced one of the many alarmingly thin books from the box. “Hate to break it to you but… These are all children’s books.”

Your uncle was never one to swear, but he made a rare exception for that moment.

“Fuck!” he cussed rather loudly, “I should’ve asked what the contents were!”

You chuckled and placed the book back into the cardboard box. “Don’t worry uncle, we can always sell these to the daycare, can’t we?”

“Bourgeoisie scumbag! I paid a lot for that!” your uncle continued to ramble. You decided that it would be best to silently push the box into the storeroom while he let his frustrations out.

***

Dried leaves.

That's what you were sweeping when a black van rolled into the stretch of street. The front doors opened and a man and a woman stepped out. It was early autumn. The leaves of those trees that grew next to the bookstore—Once beautiful and elegant in nature—became pesky as their leaves had begun to wither and fall. Your uncle saw the mess outside the store and immediately got you to start sweeping it up. He couldn’t stand the sight of it.

You halted your broom as the man and woman approached you.

“Hello,” the woman greeted you, “is this Park’s second hand books?”

You nodded and pointed at the sign above you. The woman grinned. She turned and told the man to get the gear out.

You recognised the city accent in their voices.

The man wrapped around the vehicle and opened the trunk. You tried to look into the van but found that the tinted windows didn’t let you see anything. The man came back around, a heavy video camera—those ones they used to film movies—on his shoulder. The woman approached the door of the van and pulled it open.

Five girls got out of the van, selfie sticks with Gopros attached to the end in their hands as they filed out of the vehicle one by one. It took a moment for you to recognize the five of them, and another moment to realise that there were global superstars standing right before you.

In a wordless panic, you dropped the broom and bolted into the store. Your uncle was behind the counter, counting the bills in the cash register when you called him.

“ITZY is in front of the store!” you exclaimed. Your uncle cocked his head.

“ITZY?” he inquired, “is that a new slang or something?”

“N-No! T-Their idols, uncle! There are idols outside the door!”

It took a moment for your uncle to process what you’d said. Then, he simply smiled.

“Right… I forgot to tell you about that,” he said. He placed the bills he had been counting back into the register and walked out from behind the counter.

“Oooh… These girls are much prettier in person,” your uncle mused as he walked by. He opened the door to the store and stepped outside. You could hear his booming voice through the open door. “HELLO! WELCOME! WELCOME!”

You could hear them exchanging greetings outside the store. Hurriedly, you scanned around the store, looking for any signs of mess. There were thankfully none.

“Come in! It’s rather cold out,” your uncle said, “it’s much warmer in here!”

You quickly stood up straighter, your hands by your sides as the five ITZY girls walked through the door of the store.

“Welcome to the store!” your uncle grinned, “that over there is my nephew, he runs the place with me for now.”

The girls turned. The feeling of five pairs of eyes on you was nerve-wracking, and the two cameras that started to flank you on either side weren’t helping to ease your nerves. Where did the second camera come from? You couldn’t help but wonder.

You gulped, a tug of war between waving and bowing to the girls ensuing in your head as you stared blankly.

“He’s uh… A little shy,” your uncle chuckled. Then he gave you a look, one that said hurry up and say hello you dense child.

There was no victor in the mental tug of war. In the end, you resorted to an awkward half wave, half bow. The girls sniggered at your greeting.

Then and there, you wanted to shrink down and hide in the shelf behind you.

The woman from earlier started speaking to the girls. “This is the final place. Now, we will draw lots to see who goes where!”

She produced a handful of popsicle sticks. The girls started talking about how nervous they were, giggling amongst themselves as they started to draw the sticks one by one. Your uncle stood by the woman, a small smile on his face as he patiently awaited the result.

“Oh. Looks like I’ll be working here!” Shin Yuna smiled as she looked at her stick. You weren’t sure if it was excitement or disappointment that you heard in her voice.

“Excellent!” your uncle beamed. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen going twenty, sir!” Yuna answered bubbly.

“Ah! Looks like my nephew will have a friend of his age then!” your uncle laughed.

“E-Eh?” you blurted, “w-what’s happening?”

Your uncle walked up next to you. He put an arm around your shoulder.

“I’ll explain later,” he whispered.

Yuna giggled and cleared the hair from her face. You made eye contact with her.

She grinned.

You felt a burning sensation on your face.

***

Dried Pollack soup.

That was what you ate with your uncle as people came in to set up cameras around the store. Every corner, every angle, every millimetre was covered by at least one Gopro.

“They said in the email that it was for their Youtube,” your uncle told you, “they're gonna live in this town for a bit, work at some of the stores… Taking a break from their idol activities apparently.”

“B-But why the bookstore?” you inquired. Your uncle shrugged.

“I don’t know. They sent me a 30 page proposal that I didn’t bother to read. I figured that having idols in our store would help boost our business. Get people from other parts to come here—You know what I’m saying?”

You did not know what he was saying. The whole situation was so overwhelming. An idol working at the bookstore? For how long? What did you need to do?

A knock came on the break room door. You turned and saw a man standing there, Gopro in hand.

“Sorry to disturb you, but can I put a camera in here?” he asked politely.

Your uncle gave him a look and asked, “is that completely necessary?”

“I-I mean… If you guys are okay with it,” you replied. Your uncle sighed.

“Take the soup out,” he instructed you, “give them space to set up…”

***

A very, very dry mouth.

That's what you had when Yuna walked into the store for her first day of work.

She was tailed by one cameraman and another woman, both of them wearing the same shirt that read “JYP CREW”. You could feel the cold sweat on your palms as you handed her the apron that already had her name tag on it. With a rather apparent stutter, you welcomed her to her new job. She smiled, that radiant smile that you’d only seen on your phone screen now right before you. It sent a warm fuzz down your spine.

Your uncle showed her around, breaking down the various jobs to her as you opened up a box of books—they weren’t children’s books this time—and got to filling the shelves. You could hear every word that came out from your uncle's mouth as you explained the tasks that the idol was to undertake, as well as the opening and closing timings of the store. He finished his run down just as you finished placing the last book from the box on the shelf.

“What should I do now?” you heard her ask.

“Go help my nephew. I think he could use a hand,” your uncle replied.

“Right! On it!” came her bubbly reply.

You could feel your heart beating faster as you felt her get closer and closer.

A tap on your shoulder.

“Hello!’ she greeted you, “let’s work well together!”

You managed to sputter out something. She asked for instructions on what she should do. You blanked out for a second. Then tremulously, you reached into your apron and pulled out the second box cutter.

“U-Um,” you began. “T-There’s a box of… B-Books in the store… Just… Just uh…”

Her gaze felt piercing even though it was gentle. It’d been awhile since you’d stood before a girl this gorgeous. Your nineteen-year-old hormones were getting to you, sweat beading your forehead as you struggled to give the idol instructions.

Then suddenly, you ran away. You didn’t know why you ran, but you just ran out of the store and down the street. Getting away from the store was your main task, and you ran quite a good distance in the chilly autumn air before you finally ran out of breath. Clammy, tense and exhausted, you rested outside one of the shophouses along the stretch.

“Fuck… What’s wrong with me?” you questioned yourself. It was like you’d never talked to a girl in your life.

It only took a second or two for the adrenaline to fade. In its place came embarrassment as you buried your face in your hands. What are you doing you stupid idiot! Why did you run? You chided yourself, beating your cheek with your own palm.

You heard someone call your name. You raised your head.

“Why are you slapping yourself in front of my store?” Miss Cho inquired. She was pushing a cart full of pears. They were probably freshly harvested.

“Oh… Hey Miss Cho,” you greeted her, “I was just… I-I don’t know…”

You ended up pushing Miss Cho’s cart back up the street.

“She’s a what now?” Miss Cho pressed.

“An idol Miss Cho,” you explained. You eventually got around to telling her the reason as to why you were beating yourself in front of her shop. The concept of someone singing and dancing for a living sounded completely foreign to Miss Cho—Someone who spent most of her life drying fruits and making snacks—So you had to explain it to her.

“Ah… I remember my daughter saying something about it,” Miss Cho mused, “so… Why did you run away from her?”

“I… Don’t know,” you told her truthfully, “I guess I just freaked out.”

“Because she’s famous?” she pressed. You thought about it for a moment, then you nodded.

Miss Cho stopped addressing you for a moment to greet Mrs Han, the lady that ran one of the restaurants on the stretch with her husband. Miss Cho gave the restaurant owner a whole carton worth of pears, telling Mrs Han to make something tasty out of them before the two of you continued moving along.

“Why are you scared of an Idol?” she continued to question.

“I-I don’t know… I-I guess it’s because she’s popular and all, so I’m scared that I’ll make a fool of myself in front of her,” you reasoned.

Miss Cho hummed and nodded. “I see…”

She stopped once more, this time in front of the sweets store. You helped her pull out a crate of apples from the bottom of the stacks of pears and handed it to the store owner. Miss Cho requested for a batch of the sweets when they were ready before the two of you got to moving again.

“So… Why does this girl being this idol make her any less normal than you?” she asked.

“P-Pardon?” you stuttered, “I-I never… I never said that…”

Miss Cho chuckled, one of those nice Ahjumma laughs that could warm one’s heart. “You did not, but the way you spoke of her implied it.”

You let that sink in for a moment. Now that you thought of it, you’d made Yuna sound like some high and mighty god that could smite you with a snap of her fingers.

“Just because someone has millions of fans doesn't mean that they’re any less of a human than you and I,” Miss Cho told you, “just because someone is adored doesn't make them more superior. If that was the case, I’d be a warlord by now!”

The dried fruits specialist cackled at her own joke. She always had a tendency to do that.

“You see… The problem with fame is that everyone places you on a pedestal,” she continued, “a mistake could cost your whole reputation. A good choice could gain you more popularity. It’s a never ending game, dehumanising in the sense that these famous people can’t afford to live normal lives. Why? Because they’re not considered normal! That’s not right if you ask me…”

You were wondering where this knowledge was coming from. You made it a mental note to talk to Miss Cho a little more. Was it normal for all the old people in this town to be so wise?

The two of you finally stopped in front of the bookshop. Miss Cho instructed you to take in a crate of pears, assuring you that she could make the rest of the journey down the street herself. You waved goodbye to her and prepared to enter once more.

“Remember,” she called to you. You were just about to open the door. “That girl is human. Treat her the way you’d treat any other human.”

She left you with that nugget of wisdom before she bade you farewell and continued with her journey up the street. You sat on her words for a moment before you entered the bookstore once more.

Yuna’s head snapped towards the door when she heard the chime of the door. You made eye contact with her.

Human.

With a smile, you carried the crate into the store and asked, “pears anyone?”

***

A dry wipe.

That’s what you gave Yuna to clean the dust off the shelves. Two weeks had elapsed since she’d started working with you and your uncle. You never got used to the fact that there were always cameras around you, nor did you ever get used to the fact that the woman and the cameraman would pull you aside and ask for your opinions on Yuna as an employee every now and then. You would always try to be as honest as possible, excluding any embarrassing slip ups she made in an effort to not badmouth the girl.

Within her first week here, she’d already clocked in late once. She apologised furiously that day, working twice as hard to compensate for her mistake. Standing tall, she could reach for the things that customers couldn’t, making her a great help to the regulars. She learnt quickly, finding the most optimal way to replenish the shelves by her fourth day and figured out the best way to assess the state of the book on her fifth.

Weekends had become more packed because of her, the word that Shin Yuna from ITZY was working at the store getting out rather quickly within the first Saturday she worked here. The next day, you had a flock of Midzy’s in front of the store 3 hours before opening. You had to guide Yuna in through the back entrance to prevent her from being swarmed. While Yuna greeted her fans that came to see her in the store with a big smile, you couldn’t help but notice the hint of tiredness behind her eyes. It was like she didn’t really want to be there, but she had no other choice

Now, she was doing an excellent job getting the dust off the top shelves.

“I think that’s good enough Yuna,” you told her. She turned to look at you.

“You sure? I think it still needs one more round,” she told you.

“I’ll take your word for it,” you told her, handing her another sheet of dry wipes while you took the blackened one from her hands.

“This is great,” she told you, beginning her final round of cleaning, “it makes me feel like I’m at home again. I feel like I’m a kid.”

Here’s the thing about Yuna—Her joy was contagious. When you saw that smile on her face, you couldn’t help but smile along with her. The silliest things could make her grin, and you’d end up grinning with her even though you didn’t find it amusing. You were convinced that it was a special skill of the sort.

Yuna wiped up whatever dust she could find, leaving no stone unturned as she completed her task. It was almost closing time, a relatively slow day for the bookstore as usual. Yuna had been completing her shifts diligently, only ever disappearing for lunch and toilet breaks.

Hell… If she wasn’t some bigshot idol, I’d have her employed full-time in a heartbeat! your uncle had told you over lunch one day. You couldn’t help but agree with him.

“There! All clean!” Yuna exclaimed.

“Could you show us the cloth, Yuna?” the lady producer asked her.

For a moment, you saw a hint of annoyance behind her eyes. Then the usual, childlike wonder took its place and Yuna presented the cloth to the camera.

“Ta-da! All clean!” she beamed proudly. You politely clapped your hands in the background. The female producer gave Yuna a thumbs up before tapping the cameraman’s shoulder. “I think we can wrap up for the day.”

The two turned and walked out of the store. Yuna waited till both of them had exited before letting out a deep sigh.

“Break from idol activities? Yea right…” she muttered, stepping off the step ladder. You stretched out your hand to take the dry wipe from Yuna. She suddenly seemed to remember that you were there, and that bright smile returned to her face. She handed you the dry wipe, all bubbly and smiley.

“I’m going to wash my hands in the bathroom, boss!” she told you. You nodded and let her go. She skipped off towards the back entrance. Your uncle walked out of the storeroom. He was drenched in sweat, his green shirt turning dark under the moisture.

“Hand me a towel would you?” he requested. You quickly walked behind the counter and tossed him his slightly moist towel. He caught it, smiled, then wiped his sweaty face.

“Who knew organising could take so much out of me?” he chuckled. He looked around. “Where’s Yuna?”

“Bathroom,” you explained. Your uncle gave you his Ah I see expression. Then he took a look at his watch. “Let’s get ready to close up shop.”

You nodded and walked over to the door. As you were about to flip the sign from “open” to “closed”, you saw Yuna walking back towards the shop. You raised an eyebrow.

Coming in from the back would’ve been much quicker…

As she got closer, you could make out the tired look on her face. Then you realised that the cameraman and the female producer were following her once more. So much for wrapping up you thought to yourself as you pushed the door open.

“Yuna!” you called to her, “come in! We’re gonna start closing up!”

The weary look disappeared in a flash. Yuna smiled from ear to ear and began jogging towards the store. You found that the cameraman and producer were far from wrapping up, following the idol back into the bookshop like chicks tailing their mother.

“H-Hey um… Didn’t you guys say you were wrapping up?” you asked the producer. She turned and looked at you.

“We need as much content as we can get. Gotta keep going,” she told you. Then she left to catch up with the camera man. You were suddenly ill at ease.

They continued to follow Yuna as she assisted you and your uncle in closing up the shop. They were like shadows, tailing the idol with every move she made. There was an unmistakable look of irritance on Yuna's face, but she only let it out when her back was turned to the camera. At the end of it all, the female producer made the idol shoot a thumbs up to the camera and exclaim, “Another job well done today!”. Only when they had gotten a perfect take of that did they truly cut the camera and start packing up for the day.

“Try to be a little more energetic tomorrow,” the producer told Yuna. You were all outside the store by then. The shutter was closed and locked. The final piece of equipment had been loaded into their van.

“Got it!” Yuna beamed. The producer nodded and wordlessly got into the van with the camera man. The van pulled away, leaving the three of you to breathe in its exhaust as it became smaller and smaller.

“This street was never built for cars…” your uncle grumbled. Then he turned to Yuna and told her, “good job today. We’ll see you tomorrow!”

Yuna smiled—this time a little less bright and more weary—and bowed. “Thank you for today! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

The idol turned on her heel and walked off towards the small house that she and her members stayed in for the time being. You couldn’t help but notice the way her shoulders seemed to slump.

“Are we overworking her?” your uncle asked. He must’ve noticed too.

“I’m not sure,” you answered, “I feel like it’s not the work…”

Your uncle raised an eyebrow. “What else could wear her out today? She’s been cleaning and stacking all day!”

You pursed your lips. Then, you turned to your uncle and said, “go home without me. I need to do something.”

You set off after the idol. She hadn’t walked too far over the course of your conversation with your uncle. You caught up to her in a matter of seconds.

“Yuna!” you called her. She turned.

“Hm?” she hummed.

You stopped before her. “Could I… Take you somewhere?”

You only realised how weird that sounded after the last syllable left your mouth. Inwardly, you cringed and hoped to god that she didn’t find that creepy. Thankfully, she gave you a smile and said, “sure!”

You took her to the bridge where your uncle had imparted his wisdom upon you. The walk there was filled with awkward silence, only broken erratically by your comments on the different shops. In the chilly Autumn air, you walked side by side with Yuna till you reached your destination.

“Wow…” Yuna muttered as you stopped at the apex of the bridge, “this is…”

“It’s prettier in Spring,” you told her.

“I can imagine that,” she whispered.

She placed her hands on the railings and leaned her body weight against it. You silently stood next to her, letting her take in the breathtaking scenery without disturbance. You had a hunch—The fact that cameras were always on her had been taking a toll on the idol. You figured she needed some time away from the cameras, a moment where she didn’t have to live with the fact that she was perpetually in the frame of a lens that was recording her every move.

You didn’t know what to do when the first teardrop came rolling down her face. When her body started to shake, you started to panic internally. That wasn’t part of the agenda. You awkwardly fumbled around, patting your pockets to see if you had any tissue to give her. By the time you had pulled out the small tissue packet from your pocket, the girl was already seated on the bridge, knees tucked in and arms locked around her legs as she bawled and bawled. Awkwardly, you sat down next to her. You maintained a distance from Yuna and silently slid your tissue over to her. The last thing you wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable in her moment of vulnerability.

You gave her time. Breakdowns like hers would never be finished in a matter of minutes, you knew from experience. The sheer internal bedlam a human could experience under certain circumstances was no joke.

It took some time, but her shoulders eventually stopped heaving so violently, her breaths becoming more uniformed in nature.

“I-I’m sorry… I-I just…” she started to apologise.

“It’s… It’s alright,” you assured her, “it… It must be tough for you.”

You gestured to the packet of tissue next to her. She gratefully accepted it, pulling out a couple of pieces to dry her eyes. There were no more words spoken between the two of you, only an odd, comfortably awkward silence in the air as you both sat with your backs to the railing. Yuna sniffled intermittently, and you could hear her drawing tissues to blow her nose.

You didn’t say anything to comfort her. But that day, you unwittingly made her start trusting you.

***

Dried apple slices.

That’s what Yuna had bought to share with you. She’d gotten them from Miss Cho’s, and had asked to eat them with you on the bridge after your shifts had ended.

“These are so good!” she exclaimed.

“Miss Cho’s family spent lifetimes perfecting their formula. It’s gotta be good,” you told her.

Yuna squealed happily as she dug her hand into the container and pulled out yet another slice. You could pinpoint the exact moment where the flavour of Miss Cho’s apple slices burst forth in her mouth. Her wide-eyed silent glee was your indication. On the railing of the bridge you sat, side by side with the idol. There was an unexplained affinity between you two since that day she cried next to you. Your interactions in the bookstore had increased, becoming friendlier in nature. It was like something suddenly clicked between the two of you.

“Man… These things make me want to live here forever!” Yuna laughed, kicking her legs like a child as she dug her hand into the container for yet another slice. You smiled as you watched her. She seemed more carefree that day.

“You’re from the city, right?” she asked you, popping another slice into her mouth.

“Yep… I’m just staying here for a while,” you explained to her.

“Don’t you have to search for a university?”

You kicked your legs and sighed. “I do… But that can always wait.”

Your truth—You didn’t want to leave this town. Life was much simpler, slower. You’d originally come here to recover, hatred and bitterness brimming in your heart. Now that it had been purged from your being, you found a connection with this humble, small town. You knew that you’d eventually have to leave, go back into the hustle and bustle of the city when you got back to your life as a city boy. You dreaded the arrival of that day.

You told this to her. A look of understanding crossed her face.

“How long have you been here?” she asked.

“Since early Spring so… About a month now?” you replied.

“Ah… And what’s this bitterness that you had?” she pressed.

You took a dried apple slice and popped it into your mouth. You munched on it a little before replying, “I had to recover from a breakup.”

Yuna chuckled. “Ah… I suppose this place seems like a nice town to get back on your feet.”

You were glad she understood you.

“You know… This spot is really something,” she told you, “it’s so beautiful and calming… I really gotta thank you for showing it to me.”

You waved it off. “No problem.”

Yuna folded one leg up. “I came here with the girls once after that evening. It was a good break.”

She sighed heavily. You wiped your hand on your jeans.

“It must be tiring,” you said.

“Hm?”

She turned to look at you intently. You stared at your sneakers. The once snow white shoes had been dirtied by gravel and all sorts of elements, but you didn’t really mind.

“It must be tough living with no breaks… I imagine it can get pretty overwhelming,” you told her. Yuna stared off into the distance for a moment.

“When they told us that we would be coming here to take a break from our idol activities, I thought that we’d actually be able to rest…” she muttered, “then we saw the cameras and got handed those damn selfie sticks… That’s when I knew that we were just making more content while we’re supposedly ‘resting’.”

You could hear the spite in her voice. Your heart went out to her.

“I hate this,” she continued, “I just want to have a moment where I’m not dancing, where I’m not singing, where I’m not being recorded by some stupid fucking camera while I keep some pretty smile on my face.”

Her truth—There were times where she wondered whether the idol life was meant for her. While they existed, she couldn’t recall the last moment where she was just Shin Yuna, a regular nineteen year old girl finding her way in life. She liked the bookstore, it made her feel human. While she was going about her tasks, the sheer monotony of it all brought some semblance of regularity into her life. For a rare moment, she wasn’t just some money making machine for a company, she was just a regular human, like you. It gave her an unexplainable joy, a joy that was quickly stripped away when she turned and saw a camera being pointed right at her.

She told you this in hew own words. You bit your bottom lip.

“But of course, I can’t let that show, can I?” she laughed bitterly, “gotta be pretty preppy princess Yuna. Can’t be angry, can’t be annoyed, allowed to cry only in concerts or in interviews… Fuck all this idol shit.”

Her life didn’t sound as great as you’d imagined. You admittedly thought that many idols lived in luxury, showered with love and attention from fans worldwide while earning big bucks doing what they always aspired to. In reality, their lives were the most cruel and unforgiving, an endless cycle of practice, classes and content. They were always being watched and monitored. They maintained a happy, cheerful image for their fans, but deep down they just want to take a break for some time before coming back to this life of theirs. It sucked. It sucked big time, but they all lived with it.

The harm that humans could bring upon each other was frightening, yet the world was as such.

“I think you’re incredibly strong Yuna,” you voiced your sincere thoughts, “it takes a lot to be you. I don’t think many people can confidently look me in the eye and tell me that they’re fine with being watched twenty-four-seven, let alone pretend like everything is great with their life when it really isn’t.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Thank you,” she whispered, “I… I think I really needed to hear that. You summed it up really well.”

She shot you a sincere smile. You chuckled softly and scratched the nape of your neck. There was a warm sensation on your face.

“You’re… Welcome I guess?” you told her. She laughed at that.

“You’re funny,” she remarked, “I like your company.”

The warmth on your face was now more of a burning sensation. You looked down at your sneakers, feeling a grin plastered on your lips. Her smile was as contagious as her joy.

“How… How long are you guys gonna be here for?” you asked her.

“I forgot... I only know that we’ll go back for Chuseok, then come back here for a few more weeks. We’ll be out of here by the middle of November if I recall correctly, then back to comeback preparation in early Winter,” she replied.

Time was a funny thing. It could go by so fast when you wanted it to be slow, but it could also drag on like a snail when you wanted it to be a rabbit. Time was a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness.

In your heart, you prayed that Yuna’s time in this town wouldn’t be fleeting. In your heart, you prayed that time could show mercy on this girl.

***

Dried anchovies.

That’s what your uncle needed from Miss Lee, the general store owner, to cook the stew for that night's dinner. You shrugged on your jacket that evening and headed down to go buy what was needed. Mrs Lee greeted you with the usual warm smile, though you could tell that the Gopro on the counter was making her ill at ease.

The ITZY girls were there, talking amongst themselves as a camera man and a different lady producer stood behind them. You did your best to slip by undetected, snagging the bag of dried anchovies and a bottle of water without being spotted. You didn’t know that they’d follow them till this late.

You paid for the good and exited quietly. On the way back, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You spun around to come face to face with Yuna.

“Hey,” she beamed. She must’ve seen you. How did she get out?

“Oh. Hey,” you smiled back.

“Can we meet at the bridge later? I’d like to get some fresh air after my dinner,” she requested.

You smiled and agreed. You set a time, then split off in your own separate ways to go about your evenings. You couldn’t really focus on your uncle’s rambling that night, you mind drifting to Yuna’s smile while your uncle said something about the stock market.

9pm. That was the time you’d arranged to see her. On the pretext of taking a walk, you slipped out of your uncle's house and journeyed down the street towards the bridge. She was there by the time you’d gotten there, a bright smile that could light up the darkness gracing her features when she caught sight of you. She let you walk over to her before handing you something. It felt like a stick.

“What are these?” you asked.

“Lanterns,” she answered, turning hers on, “Chuseok is coming up. The Chinese like to carry lanterns and take walks on that day. I thought we should do something while I’m still in this town, make some memories, you know?”

The lanterns she had purchased were from Mrs Lee’s general store. Mrs Lee had always been obsessed with Chinese culture, particularly in terms of decorations and practices. She sold those lanterns all year round, even though no one really bothered to buy them.

You and Yuna walked around the town with your lanterns, talking and laughing, laughing and talking… It was a night to be alive. It was nice to see Yuna in this light. You’d grown out of your 2 dimensional perception of her, discovering the multitudes she possessed. On the surface, she was simply Shin Yuna, ITZY’s maknae and visual. Beneath that, there was Shin Yuna, the nineteen year old girl who could easily make someone smile and blush. Then beneath that was Shin Yuna, a nineteen year old girl who craved regularity, a nineteen year old girl who wanted to be momentarily freed from the glitz and glam. You were happy that she trusted you enough to be comfortable around you, and you were more than happy to have that gut feeling that she was truly being herself with you.

“This town is amazing…” she remarked as you found yourselves before the bridge once more. You’d walked a full round around the town by then, lost in conversation as you took turns down the roads on a whim.

“Maybe you should just move here,” you joked.

“Oh how I wish I could!” she sighed, “everything’s so nice here… I wish I could just stay here forever…”

I wish I could stay here forever. She always had a tendency to say that. While working in the bookstore, she’d let it slip. When you were talking with her on the bridge, she’d say it at least once. She struck you as someone who was vocal with their opinions, someone who would freely speak her mind if she could. You enjoyed listening to her long, rambling talks about her various life stories. Though you could never bear to listen to such rants from your uncle, you found hers enjoyable to listen to. There was a certain way she drew you in with her voice, your attention becoming captive to her tone and intonation while she went on and on…

When you parted ways with her that night, you found that you wanted her to stay and talk with you a little longer. Of course, you never vocalised this desire. She’d already broken rules to come out and see you that night, the last thing you wanted was to get her in trouble.

As you walked home with your lantern that night, you wondered what it would be like to date a girl like Yuna.

***

Drier air.

That’s what you felt had changed that late October morning when you stepped out of your uncle’s house.

“Aish… Winter is coming already,” your uncle grumbled, “time passes so fast these days… I ought to keep a better track of it.”

It was Yuna’s final weekend in the town. She was due to leave by Tuesday next week. As expected, Midzys showed up in front of the door, prompting your uncle and you to wrap around to the back entrance, where Yuna was waiting. The female producer and the cameraman were right there with her, asking the idol some questions in front of the backdoor as you and your uncle approached. Her eyes seemed to light up upon the sight of you, the smile on her face growing wider as she waved to you.

“Yuna, focus on the interview,” the producer reminded her sternly. She quickly set her gaze back on the camera. Your uncle waited patiently for them to wrap up with their questions before opening the backdoor to the bookshop. As you walked in, Yuna walked up to your right and whispered right into your ear. “10pm. Bridge. Don’t be late.”

You’d never wanted a shift to end so badly.

That night, you met her at your usual haunt. Her smile—Usually brimming with joy—was noticeably sadder, dimmer under the moon’s beam. It felt hard to accept that her time in this town was running thin. You wished that there was a way to extend your fleeting time with this woman, find a way to make some more memories with her. Alas, time could only move forward at a rate unknown to you. Autumn was slowly becoming Winter, and Yuna would soon be gone from this town. Every moment was now more precious than ever.

The truth you kept to yourself—Though your heart fluttered around her, you knew that you and her could only remain in this stage of friendship. Progressing forward to a new stage of a relationship would be hard. You could only hold on to her as a friend, hoping that she wouldn’t forget you when she returned back to the big city.

The two of you stayed out late that night, eating dried fruits from Miss Cho’s and drinking some Makgeolli that Yuna had bought and snuck out.

“My last day as a human,” she told you that night while cracking open the bottle, “then it’s back to being a doll…”

Human… Why could she never seem to prove to everyone else that she was human as well? The fame, the shining lights, the pedestal that she’d been placed on… They all created a false image for her. It brought forth a notion—She was privileged, someone who could receive the attention of fans and brands alike. There was no room for blemishes, her body “perfect” and her personality flawless. She had to accept all that, live with it without a fuss or hassle.

When she rambled about this, tears flowed freely from her eyes—Years of pent up anger, sentiments of unfairness and many other emotions coming forth in moonlit steaks that ran down her face. You poured her another glass of Makgeolli. She tossed it back to soothe the pain.

“You know… I always feel so comfortable with you,” she whispered, “it’s like I’m talking to an old friend… Someone who actually understands me.”

Under the stars that night, the two of you admittedly got a little tipsy on the bridge. Under the stars that night, Yuna had let slip her true feelings towards you. Under the stars that night, you two shared a kiss, one that would change the complexity of your relationship, spurred by the raw emotions of the night that had manifested through the catalyst that was alcohol.

As your fingers ran through her hair and her hands held on to your waist, she leaned on your shoulder and whispered some words into your ear. They weren’t words that you wanted to hear, but you knew that you’d just have to accept them.

It pained the both of you to know that you could never truly love each other the way you wanted to. The expectations of her company and of society set a boundary, one that kept you two so far yet so close. While you saw her as a regular human, she still had to abide by the rules and regulations of the company that controlled her. Those rules defined her, the regulations moulding her into something no longer human. It made her life strict and unforgiving.

She was like an unwilling puppet, trying in vain to resist the commands of those who had power over her. A sisyphean task it proved to be.

To them, she was an idol. And according to them—Idols and humans were not to love each other.

***

Dried flowers

That was what you held behind your back that morning where you saw the ITZY girls off. You and your uncle waited outside the house they stayed in, dried flowers tucked away behind you. Then they came out. The five of them, rolling out their luggages, dressed warmly to combat the rapidly dropping temperature. She caught sight of you. A sad, warm, gentle smile crossed her face. The bosses of the shops that the girls had worked for respectively had all come to bid farewell to them, giving you some time to talk to her one last time. The goodbyes were tearful, full of hugs and “I’ll miss you”s. Yuna gave your uncle a hug, then she turned to you. Surprisingly, neither of you shed a tear as you stared at each other.

You produced the dried flowers that you’d gotten from the florist and presented them to her.

“They’re beautiful,” she whispered as she accepted them.

“Glad you like them,” you replied, “try and keep them alive okay?”

She stared up at you for a moment.

When the first teardrop rolled down her face, you didn’t hesitate to pull her into a hug. She cried into your chest, a million and one apologies bursting forth as she held you tight. It was as if it was her fault that the two of you could not start a proper relationship. It was as if you’d disappear if she didn’t hold you as tight as she could.

When it was time to go, you dried her eyes to the best of your ability. She gripped the dried flowers tight, a grim look on her face as she said, “I’ll take some time to think about us… When we meet again, I’ll tell you what you mean to me. We can go off from there.”

You smiled. “Alright then, I’ll wait.”

She fiddled with the wrapping of the dried flowers.

“Till then,” Yuna requested, “could I be selfish and ask you to hold on to these feelings?”

You smiled and assured her that you’d try to. When we meet again, I’ll let you decide if we should kiss or not, she told you.

In the cold morning air, you made a then-and-there decision to share one last kiss with her, not caring about the fact that staff and her other members were present at the scene. As the van took her away from the town, your uncle placed a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked you.

You wiped a tear from your eye and whispered, “I hope those dried flowers won’t die as quickly as they did last time.”

***

The cold snap hit when you came back to the town. A fresh, fluffy and thick sheet of snow covered the streets. Your boots made a satisfying crunch with each step you took, the frigid winter air biting your face as you hurried towards the bookstore. All around you, people walked up and down the street. City people—you recognised their accents.

You found it hard to adjust back to life in the city. The roar of the traffic was jarring, making you yearn for the quiet of the town streets. The pavements were jam packed with people, making you long to return to the empty streets of your uncle's humble town. The subway was packed like sardines, making you think about the times where you could get to wherever you wanted on foot. It was safe to say that you had some forms of withdrawal symptoms, but you eventually got over it. Then university came. The workload was immense, the readings mountainous. It took you some time to figure out a way to efficiently cover all the content you needed to, but you eventually found your footing. You were in your last year now. Time was truly so fleeting, a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness.

Now that you were back in this familiar place, a sense of comfort filled your being. Not much had changed over the course of your four year absence. Aside from the fresh coats of paint and increase in tourists, everything was just as they were when you left.

The bookshop was teeming with life when you entered. You were pleasantly surprised. You remembered your uncle telling you about how good the winter crowds were, but you ever imagined it to be this good. You hurriedly removed your scarf and coat before approaching the counter. There, your uncle was busy packing book after book into paper bags. You hung your coat on the coat rack and grabbed an apron.

“I’m back,” you said, taking your place next to your relative. Your uncle cast a glance towards you.

“I’ll greet you later. Busy now,” he mumbled. You chuckled and tied the strings of your apron behind your back.

It didn’t take long before you settled back into that old rhythm—Open, pack, take the bills. Open, pack, take the bills. It brought an odd sense of joy into your heart. You’d missed the monotony of this life.

The bookstore closed a little later that day. You waited till the last customer had slipped out into the cold evening air to flip the sign from “open” to “closed”. Then you shut the door behind you.

“I should really employ a part timer,” your uncle mused. He beat his lower back with a clenched fist. “The crowds are only growing these days… I’ll need some help.”

Then he waddled over you. With a warm smile, your uncle pulled you into a warm embrace.

“Welcome back, nephew. It’s good to see you again.”

You hugged him back. The usual old people's statements ensued—How have you been? You’ve grown taller! Jeez… You’ve gotten a little more plump! Have you been eating well? The same old questions were hurled at you. You were happy to answer them all.

You helped your uncle close up shop for the day. To celebrate your return, he took you down to Mrs Han’s to have a barbeque. The restaurant owner greeted you with her wrinkly, warm smile and welcomed you back to town. The meat was fresh, well marbled and tender. Freshly imported Mrs Han had told you, they just came in today! You came back at the right time!

It was safe to say that your belly was filled that night. Mrs Han had kindly put the cost of the meal on the house, and your uncle hurried you out of the restaurant when you insisted on paying.

“It’s rare for her to be this generous. Accept it while you can,” he told you. You rolled your eyes. He was as thrifty as always.

Your uncle took you to the bridge that night. Proper lighting had been installed on it, small yet powerful lamps illuminating the path as you and your uncle stood side by side on the apex of the bridge. The river was frozen over, the trees around it bald and bare.

“You should’ve came back in the spring,” he remarked, “there were more flowers this time. It was beautiful.”

“I can imagine that,” you replied.

Your uncle sighed heavily, a sizable cloud forming before his face. “You know… She came back this spring.”

“Is that so?” you replied alarmingly calmly. Your voice betrayed your emotions. It felt like a small ball was caught in your throat. “How is she?”

“She seems alright, definitely grew a few centimetres,” he told you.

“Is she healthy?” you pressed.

“She definitely looked a little more plump in the face. She’s seemed a lot stronger,” your uncle replied.

Silence hung between the two of you. Then your uncle inquired, “You never managed to see her in the city, did you?”

You lowered your gaze to the frozen water.

“No…” you grimaced, “I… I could never find a way to see her.”

The truth—It felt like fate was against you. You could never secure a ticket to any of her performances, nor could you ever get into any of her fanmeets—Online and physical. You never expected that you’d face such difficulty in trying to see Yuna, but you persevered nonetheless. When the university workload came in however, you found your free time had been stripped from you, tossed out to the wind as assignment after assignment plagued your days. Yuna couldn’t be your top priority no matter how much you wanted her to be. You didn’t know why the idea of getting her phone number never crossed your mind while she was with you. Then again, exchanging phone numbers could have landed her in trouble…

You told this to your uncle. He nodded silently.

“I guess we were never meant to be a thing,” you whispered dejectedly, “I was a fool to hold on to those memories”

Your uncle sighed and patted your shoulder. “Some memories never heal. Rather than fading with the passage of time, those memories become the only things that are left behind when all else is abraded…”

“Han Kang,” you muttered. It was one of the quotes from her book Human Acts. You had a paper on that book coming next term. Your time at the bookstore made you discover your love for books, hence you pursued a degree in Literature in university.

“You remember,” your uncle chuckled. It was one of the first books that he’d made you read. “Your memory serves you well, nephew.”

The quote he’d recited could be interpreted in many ways. In the context of the book, the protagonist spoke of their memories in the bloody Gwangju massacre in 1981. The sights, sounds and horrors left them scarred for life, so scarred that they’d take them to the grave—hence the usage of heal in memories never heal. Healing meant forgetting.

For you, healing meant forgetting too. The only difference—You didn’t want to heal. You wanted to keep those memories carved into your brain, make them a permanent part of your being. You wanted to ingrain that smile in your vision, keep that voice playing on loop in your ears. You were more than willing to take those memories to your grave.

“First a breakup, now this,” you muttered, “am I not built for love, uncle?”

“Everyone is built for love,” came his instant reply, “it’s just a matter of finding the right person to receive love from.”

The right person…

Your parents were meant to follow you on this visit back to the town, but last minute work held them up in the city. They’d found an Airbnb house in the town for the three of you, but now you had it to yourself. As you laid down on the bed, you found that the silence was deafening.

Silently, you wondered what’d be like to date a girl like Yuna. She felt like the right person.

Maybe all of those emotions were just teen hormones. Maybe the feelings were just bright out in the heat of the moment. Maybe you didn’t actually love her, maybe it was more of an infatuation. It all sounded logical and reasonable to you.

Yet when you saw her again, all of that no longer seemed to make sense.

There she stood in the cold winter morning, scarf around her neck and a pair of earmuffs atop her head. In her gloved hands, a bright pink tote bag, a bouquet of flowers sticking out from the opening. She stood before the store, staring at the closed shutter, mouth parted ever so slightly. Her hair—Red when you first saw her—Had been returned to its natural colour. She was as beautiful as the day you said goodbye to her.

You swore that your eyes were deceiving you. When she turned her head, you were convinced that her jaw dropped open as wide as yours when the two of you locked eyes.

Then in the next moment, she was in your arms. She had her ear pressed to the left side of your chest, as if she needed to hear your heartbeat to verify that you were truly there.

“Hey,” was all you could manage.

“Hi,” she whispered back, “it’s been awhile.”

Her eyes gleamed with the same childlike wonder. Her smile was as genuine as you’d remembered. You wanted to kiss her to see if her lips would feel the same, but…

When we meet again, I’ll tell you what you mean to me. We can go off from there…

She did give you the freedom of choice to kiss her when you reunited, but you decided against it.

Catchup was done in the warm respite of the bookstore. With aprons adorning your bodies, you filled each other in on what you’d missed in each other's lives. This was all done to the backdrop of filling in shelves and rearranging stacks of books. Lunch came and your uncle left the two of you on your own. You got some tteokbokki with her from Mrs Han’s—to go of course—and hit your old spot.

“Even without the leaves, this place is still so stunning,” she mused, staring out at the frozen water.

“I still prefer it in Spring,” you told her, “I like it better when the trees are less… Bald.”

She laughed at that.

When the sun started to set on the small town, your uncle made the executive decision to close up early. The sun may be gone, but the night is young he told you with a wink. You gave him a grateful smile and took off your apron. He let the two of you go off early that day.

Dinner that night was once again at Mrs Han’s, and she wasn’t so generous that night. A walk around town was what she asked for afterwards, both of your footsteps seemingly synchronised to produce rhythmic crunches in the snow. At one point, she’d stopped walking to gather up a handful of snow, forming a hefty snowball to chuck at you. You didn’t hesitate to fight back.

“University sounds tough,” she mused, munching on some grapes from Miss Cho’s.

“I think it’s just my course,” you remarked, “the rest of my batchmates seem to be having a relatively good time.”

“Literature is demanding,” she agreed, “but what do you wanna do with it in the future?”

You sighed and shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket, “I’m still figuring that out…”

“Maybe you can become a writer,” she suggested, “write some screenplay… Make it different from the usual stuff.”

“I’d probably need to save up some money before I do that,” you chuckled, “I have a degree that guarantees a higher chance of living on the streets than living on someone’s couch.”

She laughed at that too. Then she said, “hey, maybe you should come work for my company when you’re done with university. That way, we can see each other more often too.”

You chuckled. “That’s a possibility… I’ll try and keep that in mind.”

“I’ll make sure to vouch for you,” she declared, “the big boss likes me enough to listen to me…”

You laughed and nodded. Silence hung between you two.

Then it was time for the hard question.

“So are you seeing anyone?” you asked her. Yuna licked a grape seed off her lips before answering.

“I’d like to think so…”

Your heart sank, but you still cocked your head in feigned curiosity, “oh? What do you mean?”

Yuna bit down on her lip. “I mean… I like him, but I’m not sure if he still likes me.”

“Ah,” you mused.

“Yea…” Yuna sighed. She looked up at you and asked, “what about you?”

You took a moment to formulate an answer. “I think… I’m just waiting for love as of now.”

“Ah,” Yuna parroted, “well… I wish you the best in that then.”

There was a sudden tension in the air. It was like your respective cryptic messages had conjured a rubber band of the mind, pulling it out to its maximum length as you continued your silent journey down the street. Perhaps your hopes were set a little too high—You’d expected her to remember the love that existed four years ago, run back into your open arms so that you could shower her with kisses. But you’d forgotten—No… Chose to forget what she’d told you on the bridge that night.

I love you. I know that it’s too late for this, but I love you. I’m sorry we can’t love in the same way others do, but do know that deep down, I wish to love you in the same manner that you love me. It’s confusing, I know… But my life doesn’t allow us to share the life we want to. I’m sorry.

It was a painful thing to hear, but you still kissed her right afterwards, and you still kissed her the morning after. You now realised that perchance, you’d gambled a little too much, gone all in with the chips of your heart only to lose. You didn’t understand why she couldn’t date freely, be with someone that truly made her happy. She was a human, a human deserved to give love and be loved.

She got a call a few minutes later. It’s my manager. I gotta go now.

She gave you a small wave, handed you the last few grapes from the container. Then, with a it was nice seeing you again, Yuna turned on her heel and walked off. The grapes felt oddly heavy in your hands. Again, she was to disappear from your life. Like grains of stars in an infinitely expanding galaxy, she spilled through the gaps between your fingers once more. This felt like a scenario you’d read in books a thousand times over, and frankly, it sucked.

But happiness is being able to hope, however faintly, for happiness. So, at least, we must believe if we are to live in the world of today.

Osamu Dazai had said that. You weren’t sure why you thought of it as you watched her back get smaller and smaller by the second.

Hoping faintly for happiness? Is that what I’m meant to do? You asked yourself. She was getting further by the second. Hoping faintly for a chance that she’d turn back, you stood there. She never did.

Hoping faintly…

No. You wouldn’t settle for that.

The grapes fell from your hands as you ran towards the girl that you’d so hoped to see again. Four long years you’d tried and failed. Now, with the opportunity right in your grasp, you were certain that you had to make something out of it.

In three more bounds, you were right behind her. Yuna you called, grabbing her by the shoulder. You didn’t give her time to say anything before you turned her around and planted your lips on hers. She yelped, her body tensing as you held her cheeks in the cradle of your palms.

A quiet smack resonated when your lips parted. Yuna trembled in your grasp, teary eyes gazing into yours.

“I’ve been waiting for your love Yuna,” you admitted to her, “for four years, I tried to see you again but I just never could. We said that we wanted to sort out what we meant to each other when we met again, but we failed to do that today. Tell me Yuna—What am I to you?”

She let out a shuddery breath, the smell of grapes saturating the air.

“I-I have to go,” she muttered.

You were tired of waiting.

“Yuna please,” you begged.

She looked away, as if contemplating if she should give you her answer.

“You… You are who I want to love,” she whispered, “I-I thought that… Maybe I was too selfish to ask you to keep loving me for all these years. I-I guess I didn’t expect this selfishness to be rewarded.”

“It isn’t selfish,” you corrected her, “it’s… It’s human Yuna. The desire to want someone to keep loving you, that’s human.”

Her lower lip trembled ever so slightly. “Right… I can only feel like a human when I’m with you.”

Suddenly, nothing else in the world seemed to matter. You pulled her in once more, holding her as tight as she did on the day she left your life. You kissed her, tender and passionate as she gripped the fabric of your jacket. Her perfume was sickly sweet, intoxicating and lulling you deeper into her body as she reciprocated the kiss. Her hair, cold and slightly damp from the snowball you threw at her, was silky, smooth to run your fingers through. The repeated dying of it had definitely affected its quality, but only in the slightest.

Her voice was strained when your lips parted, but you could clearly make out what she’d said.

I don’t want to go back tonight. I want to be here with you.

When the first teardrop rolled down her cheek, you didn’t hesitate to wipe it away.

“You’d be breaking some rules won’t you?” you questioned.

“I’ve broken them before. I can always break them again,” she replied, “humans were made to break some rules after all…”

With a smile, you let your hand slip into hers. It was warm, just like any other human. In her eyes, there was a gleam that every other human could possess. In her smile, there was a sincerity and joy that any other human could show. Sure, the Dispatch article that posted the photo of you kissing Yuna did call it the unexpected relationship between a top idol and a civilian.

But in your eyes, Yuna was as human as anyone could ever be.

Dried things and humanity—An unlikely combination for a love story, but it was certainly fit to start the first chapter of your story with Yuna.

_______________________

Hello! A rare, smutless Yuna fic has mad its way onto my blog. I know it'll disappoint a lot of you guys, but this is what I wanted to write, so here we are. Hope you guys enjoy this one. Take a break from the horny and have some simple love <;3.

~Lots of love, Nichuuu

#shin yuna #itzy yuna #fanfic #writing #kpop #fluff #itzy fluff #kpop fluff

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