SUNSETS AND BUCKET LISTS
han jisung × reader - fluff, childhood friends to lovers, college au - 1.8k
summary - spending your last day with your best friend before school should be sad, but this time it took an unexpected turn
cw - use of yn?
links - masterlist
so! i'm almost late but, still made it in time. i guess you could call this ji's bday fic (tho there will be more sunshine twins content coming soon), but most importantly, happy birthday katsy!! ( @catiuskaa ) this one is for you <3333
and shout out to my mars who saved me several times writing this. not proofread and idk what is that ending, but i hope you like it! <3
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Jisung whispered into your ear, his hot breath spilling over your skin, making you shiver and instantly startling you awake. Or mostly awake. Still half asleep, your brain only registered that someone is in very close proximity to you and we do not like that, before your hand tightened on your plushie and you whacked Jisung in the face.
“Ow, what’s that for?” he whined, dramatically holding his palm to the right side of his face. His mischievous grin was replaced by a scowl and he looked at you like you just stole his dog, not simply hit him with a stuffed cat. With your consciousness finally catching up to speed, you realized that it was not an alien coming to abduct you, but it was Han Jisung, your best friend since you were three years old. And he carried the title proudly, always mentioning your sixteen years long friendship to anyone who (did not) care.
“Sorry, Ji, oh my god!” You swiftly rose up on the bed, it was a miracle your head didn't collide with Jisung's as well. “I thought you were, I don't know, a pervert or something.”
“YN,” Jisung sighed. “It's literally just us two and our parents. There's a security system in the house. How would a pervert even get in?”
He was right. Growing up in the same town, just three houses away, your families have known each other very well. It was a tradition that started when you and Jisung were old enough to travel and actually understand a vacation. Your families always rented out the same beach house to spend the last two weeks of summer holiday together.
By now, you knew the place front to back, being able to move around while blinded and you would be just fine. So Jisung was right, but you couldn’t possibly let him have the win so easily.
“I don't know,” you shrugged. “They always find a way?” Jisung gave you an unimpressed look. “Okay, okay. But it's still your fault. You shouldn't have woken me up like a creep.”
“Blah, blah, blah.” Jisung rolled his eyes and grabbed your hands, quite literally dragging out of bed and out of the warm comfort of the covers. You hissed and a shiver ran over your skin as your, due to the summer heat barely clothed, body made contact with the cold floor. “Come on, get up, we have so much stuff to do!”
Jisung let go of your hands, bouncing around happily. You shook your head, amazed at the amount of energy he had so early in the morning. Had he eaten just sugar for breakfast?
You slowly stood up, rummaging through the closet for some clothes. “Turn around at least, perv,” you laughed, smacking him over his chest with a shirt. Jisung laughed, but left the room, giving you privacy to change. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you put on the first shorts and shirt you found. It's not like you were going to meet many people so who cares, right? On your way out you grabbed a hoodie too. The summer was in fact nearing its end and the mornings were often chilly. And knowing Jisung, you will have breakfast outside.
As per your prediction, the small outside table was full of food, with Jisung impatiently waiting for you, bouncing his leg and playing with a fork.
After a quick breakfast, Jisung shared his plan for the day. You listen in disbelief, wondering how he wanted to fit all of that into one day. Despite your doubts, you were going to do everything for it to happen though.
This was your last day together. In pursuit of your respective dreams, you and Jisung not only attended different universities, but in different cities too and the distance made it even harder. In order to visit each other, you would have to spend several hours traveling, and that was a luxury you couldn’t afford. You tried, but then a test came up, or a friend's birthday party or Jisung was sick… After three months you gave up trying, resigning to seeing your best friend on Christmas and summer only.
It was hard enough to leave him last year, but you called each other a lot. In the beginning that was. Once you got your bearings and university properly started, you were often so exhausted you fell asleep on the video call. Or didn't call at all, because Jisung forgot to charge his phone in the whirlwind of classes and deadlines.
You never knew it was possible to miss someone so much. Being without Jisung felt like someone was slowly tearing off your limbs. And when you saw him at Christmas, it felt like the puzzle finally found its missing piece. A week later, in your dorm room with friends and soju, some revelations were had, but by the time summer came around, your mind was in a completely different place.
And this time, knowing what kind of year you were up against, letting go of Jisung for another several months suddenly felt impossible. Knowing this shared vacation was coming, both you and Jisung made a list of activities to do and places nearby to visit. But with how excited you both were, you put off checking boxes in favour of lazing around, watching anime, going to the pool and talking for hours.
So there you were, left with a list impossible to complete by the end of today. Yet nothing would deter you from trying.
“I think I'm actually gonna die.” You fell onto your towel, lying motionlessly on the beach. Not even having enough energy to watch the sunset, which you would have taken countless pics of any other day.
By some miracle, you managed to complete Jisung's entire checklist for the day, which left you completely exhausted. You were seriously thinking of asking Jisung to carry you back, because unlike you, he seemed as if powered by the air he breathed - he hadn't run out of energy the whole day.
“Noo, you can't die yet. We still have to check off the paddleboard at the sea,” Jisung said. And there it was, he actually brought the paddleboard down to the beach. You saw it lying next to your things when you sat back up.
“Ji, seriously?” you laughed. “You can't swim? And it's dark.” The idea seemed a little funny and a whole lot crazy. It was one thing to be at the pool, where there was a bottom and a limited amount of water. To go to the wild, open sea, in the dark, and tired after the whole day? k
“Actually… I can. Kinda. Lix taught me,” Jisung admitted. You knew who he was talking about, Jisung wouldn't shut up about his roommate and new best friend Felix, he actually mentioned him in about every conversation he could. It was kind of cute actually. You were worried Jisung would struggle, being an introvert with social anxiety, but Felix waltzed into his life and saved him for you.
“Okay…” Felix teaching him solved one problem at least. But you still didn't feel like it was a good idea. “Ji, do we have to? What if something happens? We're tired, we're alone here…”
Jisung’s shoulders slumped. “Right, yeah you're right. I just had this plan and I wanted to… nevermind.”
That wasn't fair. Now you felt bad. God, why was Jisung so cute? “Maybe we could… I don't know. Put it just by the shore and sit on it?” you suggested, wanting to make Jisung happy. You would do anything to make him happy, even go out on the sea when you thought about it.
Alone together on the beach, the sun setting over the water, the atmosphere was romantic. And thought your brain, because all your feelings that you pushed aside to focus on quality time with Jisung, now came rushing back all at once.
Jisung's face lit up. “Yeah, we can do that. I guess it counts as completing.” You helped Jisung push the paddleboard just behind the first waves, sitting on it with your feet in the water, still in the safe distance to the shore.
You looked over the horizon, the sun reflecting on the water begging to be photographed. “Selca?” you asked. Jisung nodded and leaned closer, posing for the low quality picture. With barely any natural light left, the photo was bound to be blurry and dark, but you always liked that kind of aesthetic anyway.
Feeling daring in the moment, you pressed your lips to Jisung's cheek. Barely, just a few seconds, but enough to capture on your phone.
“YN…” Jisung whispered. If it wasn't so dark, you would see the pink dusting his face.
“Sorry, I just… I just had to,” you said. What did you have to lose anyway? You were leaving tomorrow morning and wouldn't see Jisung for another few months. “I had to know what it feels like,” you whispered.
Jisung lowered his gaze, choosing to look at the waves rather than looking at you. Somehow, the silence was scarier than a rejection of your implied confession.
“Say something Ji, please,” you begged, not knowing how to bear the crushing weight of the silence anymore. You feared what message it carried.
“You crossed the last box for me.”
Before you could ask what it meant, Jisung took out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to you. His checklist of activities for the vacation. When you unfolded the small ball of paper, your eyes skimmed over the completed activities, all the way to the last one.
Kiss YN in some super romantic moment.
“I planned to tell you,” Jisung spoke up. “How I feel. I guess you beat me to it.” He lifted his head to look at you. “I did understand it correctly, right? It wasn't a platonic friend kiss, because Felix sometimes gives me those and if it was then forget everything I said because-”
You surged forward, interrupting his rambling with your lips on his. It was a wonder you didn't fall off the paddleboard, with how much force was used. You felt him freeze and smile, as he slowly kissed you back, overcoming the initial shock and surprise.
And you kissed, until there was no sun in the sky and your parents had to go look at why you took so long. That night, you laid in Jisung's bed, making promises and wishes for the upcoming year, already making plans, determined to not give up this time.
Somehow, coming back to campus and the insanity your university could be sometimes, wasn't as hard as it was last year. This time around, you had something new to look forward to in the darkest moments of endless texts and assignments. You had a boyfriend and a promise to keep. No giving up this time. And you both dutifuly kept it.
Jisungie <3
still alive after that test?
YN <3
barely
i'm dead inside and lonely
my roommate's out this weekend on a family thing
leaving me all alone in this dorm
Jisungie <3
good thing i have no classes this friday
see you then ynnie <3
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Just Tonight (II)
✧ Nebarra x human!LDB
✧ Angst to comfort; 2k+ words
✧ Brief & very mild suggestive content, light swearing
♫ "My Blood" - Echos, "Mistake" - NF, "Stubborn" - Riell
✒ @candydreamer122, you asked to be notified when this dropped so here ya go!
Nebarra opened his eyes to the golden light of dawn, your head resting on his chest, bare legs intertwined with his. Your body pressed against his, warm and comforting, and when he glanced down at your face, he'd never seen it more peaceful. He reached up, brushing your cheek with his thumb, and even in your sleep, you leaned into his touch.
Gods, you took his breath away. But even as he lay there, admiring you in the soft morning light, a single, unpleasant thought wormed its way to the front.
He didn't deserve you.
It made him pause, something turning sour in the pit of his stomach. No... Please, no...
He didn't want the moment to end. Didn't want the thoughts he knew would turn his happiness to ash. But for years they had whispered in his mind, been his constant companions, bitter and selfish lovers that left him with nothing in return but pain and cynicism. They would not let him go so easily, relinquish the control he has given them long ago.
All the more reason he couldn't, shouldn't have you.
Because, really, what could he offer you? He had nothing but his past, his bitterness, his selfish nature. Even last night had been spurred on by his own selfish desires, exacerbated further still by drink. He was nothing but thorns, rough and crude, the blood of hundreds on his hands – and he felt no guilt over them.
...Most of them.
You didn't deserve someone like that. You could do so much better than him.
Why did you want him, at all?
And as he lay there, hand cupping your face, his eyes drinking in every curve and contour – your own slowly fluttered open.
His breath caught. Sunlight danced across your irises, and he could see himself reflected in your gaze. For a few moments, you simply blinked at him, and he could see every minute shift in your expression. Emptiness, confusion, sudden realisation – and then you smiled.
Nebarra had seen many things in life. Many ugly things, things that he'd tried to forget, that haunted him until he drowned them in drink. The few beautiful things he'd seen, though... those, he remembered clearly, and often. Fought to carve them into every facet of his memory, to allow himself the slightest hope, to give himself the smallest of reasons to keep going. And the smile you gave him...
It was the most beautiful of them all.
There was life in your smile. Vast, vibrant, and beautiful, your face haloed in the golden light of morning, you looked... divine.
And then, you spoke, words low and husky from sleep, a laugh rumbling in your throat: "And you call me guar-face." Slowly, you raised a hand, gentle fingers brushing his cheeks, smile growing ever wider.
...He wanted you. Gods, how he wanted you. His heart ached with the thorns of longing, with the knowledge that he couldn't, shouldn't have you.
So, he turned away, pulled back from your touch. Forced an empty expression on his face, in his eyes. Grunted a simple, "Morning." And carefully, oh so carefully, pushed you off him.
"...Nebarra?"
Unwelcome. Outsider. All he was ever meant to be.
"What?" The word was heavy on his tongue, deadened in tone as he sat up, got off the bet, and set to collecting his clothes from the floor.
"Nebarra... What's wrong?"
Everything. "Nothing." He fumbled with his trousers, nearly falling as he tugged them on, still scanning the floor for his shirt. Anything to avoid meeting your eyes.
"Bullshit." Sheets rustled as you leaned forward, and he could practically hear your brows furrow at him. "Is it... because of last night?"
"No." Yes.
"I think it is. And I think we should talk about it – about this."
"There's nothing to talk about," he grunted, still pacing the floor, eyes roving everywhere but the bed. Where was his damn shirt?
"Oh, I think we have a lot to talk about."
He didn't answer, and in the silence, fabric rustled some more. Then, your voice, "...Looking for this?"
Finally, slowly, Nebarra looked at you. You were sitting upright on the bed, and in one hand you held up his shirt, winkled and dusty from the floor.
And you... were still very much naked. Your chest was on blatant display, the blankets pooled low around your hips, deep purple teethmarks scattered over your skin – his doing. Nebarra swallowed, averting his gaze back to the tunic.
Wordlessly, he stalked over, reaching out for it – only for you to snap your hand back, away from him. He sighed. "What are you doing?"
You didn't answer, though he could feel your gaze burning into him. Reluctantly, he returned it – and the storm in your eyes sent a shock down his spine.
Oh...
Oh, no.
Before he could even begin to pick apart what he saw in there, you raised your arms, slid them through the holes of the shirt, and pulled it down over your head.
You... were wearing his shirt.
Still holding his gaze, there was something like a challenge in your eyes. Nebarra grit his teeth and, for once in his life, held his tongue, unsure if he could win this one.
The thought... unsettled him.
But... maybe not as much as it should have.
"Nebarra."
No. No, no no no. You couldn't do that to him – say his name in that tone, in that way.
"What?" he snapped, harsher than intended.
Maybe he should have just been born mute.
"We need to talk about this."
"No, we don't."
"Why not?"
"Because... it was a mistake." He looked away, unable to meet your gaze, tearing a hand through his hair. Coward, coward, coward. "That's all there is – was – to it. We were drunk, and tired, and maybe... just maybe... a little lonely. So we made a bad decision – one we should just forget about, move on from. Because ultimately... it meant nothing. Not a damn thing."
It felt like an eternity passed before you answered, and when you did, your voice was heavy, rasping with emotion. "...If that's how you really feel, then–"
You choked. Nebarra could practically hear the words catch in your throat, dying before they could pass your lips. Instead, a low, bitter laugh rose suddenly in their place; the sound scraped his wounded heart raw. "Gods damn you, Nebarra. You're... really selfish, you know that?"
"Yeah," he mumbled. "I know."
But you weren't done. Because as you rose from the bed, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet, you continued, "You're also... a really shit liar."
And then you were standing before him, your hand on his chin, turning his face towards you, your gaze searching his. He couldn't avoid your eyes this time, couldn't look away from the storm raging within them: hurt, anger, confusion.
Because of him. Him, and his stupid decisions, and his even stupider words.
Yet, even as he stared, he could see something else in them, too.
Affection. Care. Passion. And... lo–
Why? Why him? Of all the people on Nirn you could want, how could you want the mess that was him?
"I don't know," you said softly, and Nebarra realised with horror that he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. "Because, gods, you really are a mess, aren't you? You're bitter, cynical, surly, arrogant, selfish, flawed to the moons and back, but..." Your hand shifted, brushing upwards to cradle his cheek, and the Altmer found himself holding his breath, afraid of what you'd say next, needing to hear what you'd say next.
Only, you didn't say anything. Instead, you simply leaned in, pulled him close – and kissed him. Before he even knew what he was doing, Nebarra found himself returning it, pulling you in closer, hands falling to your waist –
Wait.
No.
Stop.
What was he doing?
Breathless, he pulled away, nearly stumbling over his own feet. His mind spun; he couldn't seem to form a single coherent though. "What – what was that?"
Your eyes seemed to stare right down to his soul, burning with intensity, filled with both pain and longing. Yet a faint, bittersweet smile ghosted across your face as you answered, "Nothing, apparently."
...Damn you.
Before he could change his mind, think himself out of it, Nebarra caught your arm and tugged you sharply back towards him, crashing his lips back against yours. You stumbled from the initial force of it, but he followed your motion, keeping your lips on his.
After a moment, your arms slipped around his neck, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other tickling his nape. He grunted into the kiss, pulling you back towards the bed; you didn't resist, and readily fell back on it.
Nebarra fell with you, straddling your prone form, brushing his lips from your mouth to your jaw, nipping gently as he went. A soft gasp escaped you; his hands slid down, tugging your shirt – his shirt – gradually upward, pulling it off of you.
And immediately he sat up, got off the bed, and tugged it over his own head. Without a word, he walked away to the other side of the room, leaving you naked and stunned on the bed.
"...Nebarra!"
"Like you said," he muttered, stalking across the room and far from you, "I'm selfish."
He could hear a frustrated breath hissing through your teeth. "Damn you! Why can't you just admit what you feel, what you want? What are you so afraid of?"
The elf froze.
You could see right through him, couldn't you?
"You don't... even know me," he managed at last, keeping his back towards you. "You don't even know my name, my real name."
"I don't need a name to know you, though. Names aren't what define us – we define them. It doesn't matter to me whether you're Nebarra or... or Nico, or something else entirely. Because you're still, and always will be you, regardless of what name you answer to."
Gods, why did you have to be so damn stubborn?
"Pot, kettle, black," you sniffed, and Nebarra realised that yet again, he'd spoken aloud. "And who knows, maybe I picked some of it up from you in the first place."
Sighing heavily, Nebarra leaned forwards and let his forehead thunk against the wall. He stayed like that for a long moment, counting his breaths, trying to collect his thoughts.
"I'm not... suited for a relationship," he slowly began. "I wouldn't be... you have better options than me. People who could give you what you want far better than I could."
At that, you actually laughed, and he turned to look at you despite himself. There was no smile on your face, only pain and mockery; the sight drove thorns through his chest. "Who, then, O wise one, most knowledgeable of relationships? Who on Nirn can give me what I want, when what I want – is you."
He shook his head. "Well... you shouldn't. I can give you nothing."
"You aren't nothing," you said softly. "Your heart isn't nothing. Don't you get that yet, Nebs?"
"My... heart," he echoed, staring blankly at you. "My heart."
Shifting, you rose from the bed, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you approached. "Yeah, your heart. This thing–" you placed a hand over his chest "–that's beating right here, going at a million miles a second." Your eyes locked with his once more, and somehow, even before you spoke, he knew. He knew.
"I love you, you miserable bastard. And I want you, not for anything you can offer me, but for who you are. There's no doubt in my mind about that. Now, the only question left is... how do you feel? What do you want?"
He couldn't hide from it any longer. The truth was on his tongue, escaping his lips before he even had to think about it. "You. I just... gods damn it, I just want you," he rasped. "But..."
You placed a gentle finger against his mouth. "Shh," you murmured. "No buts."
Slowly, Nebarra raised a hand, brought it up to yours, and pulled it away from his lips, instead lacing his fingers with yours. "No, listen. I... this... is going to be complicated, if we really do this. And... you're probably going to get hurt and disappointed because of me. There's a lot you don't know–"
"And you can tell me when you're ready," you soothed, brushing your thumb across the back of his hand. "We'll cross all those bridges when we get to them. And yes, before you protest any further," you added, when his mouth opened to do just that, "I'm aware of the emotional risks. But that's part of every relationship, Nebarra, and you know that. So, again, when they do inevitably arrive, we'll cross those bridges together."
...He really didn't deserve you. Didn't understand how or why you wanted him, of all people. But as you rested your forehead against his, breaths mingling, eyes full of nothing but each other – Nebarra realised he didn't care, anymore.
The voices in his head, all the doubts and fears – they still hissed their poison, and he knew it would be a long, long time before they stopped. But a new voice had joined the mix, soft but confident, telling him that maybe, just maybe, life wasn't about "deserving" things, but appreciating them. That maybe, amid the bleak desert of his past, he could still find a lone rose of happiness.
And that voice... sounded an awful lot like yours.
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I'm so sorry if you get tired of answering asks about Pompey and Crassus BUT your response to the anon asking if Crassus let Pompey get away with things really got me thinking! Specifically about the way that Plutarch (I think?) says that Crassus didn't hold ill-will against Pompey for "stealing" his triumph. And how it feels like Crassus just kind of decided to shrug it off and instead asked Pompey for help for the consulship elections. Crassus seems so ruthless and direct while on the field, and I have so many questions about how he and Pompey worked together in Spoletium which will never be answered 😭 But then when it comes to politics I really can't see the pattern!
oh, I love talking about Crassus (and Pompey too, by extension), literally I can't stop. you can ask several people. I'll be talking about one thing, and all of a sudden: Crassus has entered the conversation. it's terrible, I can't stop. mostly, it takes me a thousand years to articulate my thoughts in any kind of way that makes sense.
I actually think that there are two times that Crassus subtextually calls Pompey a bitch, and the triumph incident is one of them!
specifically in that Crassus's comment about it:
Crassus, for all his self-approval, did not venture to ask for the major triumph, and it was thought ignoble and mean in him to celebrate even the minor triumph on foot, called the ovation, for a servile war.
Crassus is also not the first person to hold this sentiment.
Crassus' Ovation in 71 B.C., B.A. Marshall
I think it's important to remember that for Rome as a whole, the Third Servile War was terrifying because of the scale of the threat it posed to how an imperial wheelhouse running on a slave economy functions, but also because it's really fucking embarrassing for Rome's identity.
Crassus is also not the first person who commands the leading role against Spartacus. Spartacus goes through two other commanders before Rome asks Crassus to enter the scene. Crassus specifically is a private citizen when he is asked to step into this role: up until now, Rome's own praetors and consuls have failed to rise to the occasion.
Crassus' Ovation in 71 B.C., B.A. Marshall
Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward
this is a deeply humiliating moment for the Roman reputation and identity. Pompey taking credit for Crassus' victory is an expected power grab, but it's also kind of cringe that he did it. Crassus was doing Roman's Duty To The State (or, if you like a spicier take on it, may have pulled strings for it. after all, you can't consider a man rich unless he can fund his own army. and the army Crassus brought with him for this was is own)
and so taking credit for that is like. man. this was NOT a "glorious war" that was fought. (Lucullus cites this as a blemish on Pompey's character during his vulture speech, it's very fun!)
so while Crassus may have realized that writing back to Rome and requesting back up was a mistake because whoever showed up would have the world's easiest time taking credit and accepted that it would happen, I do think that he took alternative measures to even the playing field in a 'okay sure, have your triumph, but don't think you're going to have it all,' kind of way because he also does this
Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward
Pliny, Natural History 15.125
Gell. NA 5.6.23
Cic. Pis. 58
which does not strike me as the behavior of someone who is letting Pompey just run away with it without any kind of pushback.
and now to throw out literally everything I just said about the Triumph Incident, B.A. Marshall (whose article I've cited several times already in this) has an incredibly compelling case to make that there wasn't really as much conflict between the two over this as ancient narratives might indicate (which. seems to be a recurring theme with them)
Crassus' Ovation in 71 B.C., B.A. Marshall
I will stick to my narrative speculation that some of their respective peers probably thought it was at least embarrassing behavior on Pompey's part, because Lucullus has a lot of vitriol to direct at Pompey, and he does cite this incident as something negative to Pompey's overall character) someone who steals credit and glory from other people). so. hm. I think the assumed personal and periodically biting rivalry (in addition to the usual political rivalry) between the two is extremely fun, but so is. this. thoughts! much to think about.
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