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chelseeebe · 2 days ago

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yours, forever

18+ mdni. smut. mean!exhusband!eddie;) breeding kink if you squint a lil

a/n: i was not expecting to post again so soon but this genuinely couldn’t wait lol. i have another parts to this little piece so lmk if you’d like to see it. someone posted a really really good exhusband!eddie fic like a month ago and ive lost it, but they inspired this entire thing!

^it was this post by @madelynraemunson !!!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

eddie wasn’t expecting to find you standing on the other side of the door, nor had he expected you to barge right past him and into his kitchen.

you seemed to show up with zero rhyme or reason, typically wanting something from him.

that was fine, appreciated even.

he just wasn’t a fan of you waltzing into his home with the sole purpose of talking about your pig of a husband.

“david wanted me to ask you if he could take the kids up to washington to see his parents,” you stand awkwardly at the kitchen island, his apartment a shell of the house you once owned together.

eddie pauses, launching the dish towel onto the counter and laughs, deep and gravely as he swings back around, “no.”

“why not?” you huff, blinking expectantly at your petulant ex. he’d always been a sucker for your eyes, divorce couldn’t changed that.

“because i said so,” leaning against the marbled counter, “he asked you to ask me and i said no, that’s it. done.”

“you’re being stubborn,” crossing your arms over your chest, scolding in the way you talk to him.

“i don’t care.”

“eddie,” stepping forward.

“sweetheart,” his tone disapproving as he also steps up, closing the gap between you, “no,” enunciating the word in hopes that you’d actually understand now.

“don’t be an asshole,” you frown, a couple years ago you’d pout and get your own way but now eddie found great satisfaction in telling you no.

“i’m not being an asshole, you asked me a question and i answered, dave can go to washington, but you and my kids can’t,” his lip twitching into a dastardly smirk. any minute now you’d crack, really let loose on his ass.

“oh, so now i can’t go? who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” poking your sharp finger into his chest, a fury behind your eye that almost instantly made him hard.

“the father of our kids? or have you forgotten about that?”

“unfortunately not,” rolling your eyes, nonetheless you make no effort to leave, your bag already on the counter, signifying that what he assumed would happen next was definitely going to happen next.

“you don’t mean that,” sidling closer, trapping your body between the counter and his chest, “because if you did, you wouldn’t let me keep fucking the shit outta you.”

eddie’s rock solid now, this was foreplay for him, getting high off of the way you argued with him, degrading him right to his face.

“shut up,” rolling your eyes to the back of your head, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt, “you’re so pathetic,” glancing down at his boner now pressing against your cunt.

“mmhmm,” he wouldn’t fight it, in fact, he’s proud of it, “only for you though,” finding your hips, palming at the doughy flesh.

your lips twitch and he knows he’s won this fight, planting your lips to his, a firm hand on his chest just to remind him who was really in charge.

sighing into your mouth as you move against him, his hands running beneath the seam of your skirt, feeling his way up the backs of your thighs to settle on your ass.

“eds,” you hum, pulling away from his lips, “i’ve gotta go pick the boys up,” making zero effort to stop the inevitable, your chest flush against his.

“well better make it quick this time then,” he growls, walking your body into the countertop, manhandling your body to face you against the hard counter, pressing up against the swell of your ass. his belt clinks as his jeans fall down around his thighs, boxers following behind.

“this is.. i have to go,” you gasp, rolling your head back to allow his lips room to find your neck, nuzzling right into his favourite spot just tucked underneath your jaw.

“then why don’t you leave?” his gruff voice vibrates against your chin as his hands slide underneath your shirt, spilling your tits from your bra to get a full handed grope of them.

your hand rests atop of his, the other gripping to the countertop for dear life.

you’re not going to leave, that much is obvious. eddie’s also fairly certain that you’ve got at least an hour before you have to go. he’s not stupid, you play the game just as much as he does, pretending to leave just to pounce on him straight after.

“that’s what i thought,” sarcastic as ever, threatening to score violet splotches behind on your neck, though his lips detach before he’s able to.

eddie lets his thoughts slip back to the reason you’re even here, letting himself get frustrated by your blind audacity all over again.

“you must be fucking stupid coming in here, asking me shit like that,” his large, calloused hand pawing at your tits, the other yanking your panties down to hang around your thighs.

“no i’m not,” arguing back though you’re completely docile, allowing him to bend your torso over the marbled countertop, his hands groping your plush skin. “he’s my..” sigh, “husband now and you need to- fu-uck respect that,” fingers curling around his arm, pinching at the skin when he slides inside with no warning.

“what was that?” eddie mocks, slamming into your cunt with little remorse, full of years of pent up frustration and a tiny dose of regret.

once upon a time, this was his everyday. having you absolutely anywhere he wanted, and now it was solely reserved for times you really needed him to agree to something. or perhaps david had done something stupid, as he often did. sending you running back to eddie like a feeble little deer.

“shut up,” sighing in time with his rough strokes, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoes through his barren kitchen, filthy sounds of sex wailed through his apartment far more often than they should.

before you’d met david, he’d see you once a week while dropping the kids off, maybe he’d get to taste you a couple times a month, if he was lucky. it was only after you remarried that you’d come around unannounced, asking about something that most definitely could’ve been a call.

eddie doesn’t care, you’re the only woman for him anyway, a couple divorce papers couldn’t change that.

“you fuckin’ love it,” he growls, grabbing a fistful of your hair and fiercely tugging your head back, “y’gotta drive all the way over here just to cum, ain’t that sad?” speaking low right into your ear, his arms keeping a strong hold of your torso as your knees grow weak.

“you don’t.. you’re- fuck you,” knuckles glowing white with your grip on the counter, other hand desperately nuzzling between your thighs, circling your neglected clit.

“have to speak up honey, i can’t hear you,” the tip of his cock nudges against your soft spot, eliciting a strangled mewl from your pretty wetted lips.

“i can make myself cum,” you speak proudly through gritted teeth, voice bouncing around with every slam of his hips, “i don’t need you,” rubbing your clit harsher, as if to prove a point.

“oh yeah? show me baby.. let me see you cum,” slowing his strokes but keeping his cock firmly enveloped inside, jaw clenching with every squeeze and quiver of your cunt.

eddie palms your tit, getting as much satisfaction from this as you were. your whimpers alone could make him cum, hell, just a look and he was rock solid in his jeans.

“oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” gasping into the air, leant back against his shoulder, head turning to hide in the nook of his neck as you teeter over, waves of pleasure shocking your body.

“shit,” he grunts underneath his breath, feeling you writhe around in his arms, “that was good sweetheart, my turn,” resuming his assault on your cunt, breath stuttering as his hips begin to rock again.

his hand replaces yours, slipping between your thighs to find your clit, thrusts becoming sloppy and weak as the blood rushes to his head, sending his stomach into a series of somersaults.

even in your separation, your pleasure came first. an important pocket of information wayne had awkwardly handed him when his voice started cracking and girls no longer had cooties.

you’re putty in his arms, fully relying on the countertop to keep you upright, thighs quivering with the intensity of your orgasm and the anticipation of the quickly approaching next one.

“oh.. my.. god,” whining with every thrust, your voice thick with lustrous air, too fucked out to stand or even think straight.

“i’m gonna, sh-shit cum sweetheart,” pounding recklessly into your trembling pussy, dripping in a mixture of your juices.

you clench around him, tipping over the edge once more, barely able to hold yourself upright with shaking knees and a harsh grip of his arm.

eddie isn’t, nor had he ever been one for pulling out, he liked running that risk, the thrill of maybe knocking you up again.

three kids don’t happen without at least one accident, that’s for sure.

he doesn’t now, pumping the thick ropes of his release into your cunt, groaning belligerently as he does so. praying to god this was the time it stuck, pregnant with his child once again.

you fall flat against the counter, heaving for breath with the last of his pathetic strokes, growling into the stuff air.

he slaps a harsh palm to your ass for good measure, trailing his hand down your trembling thighs, “so you run along home now and tell him exactly what i told you,” fingering the lace of your panties as he hikes them back over your thighs.

“no.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #ex husband!eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader

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nativegirltapes · 1 day ago

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trailerpark!mom!reader was just trying to go out to her favorite local bar when she met drew ........

warnings: i don’t think obx is actually filmed in outer banks but for this fic yes it is. this is basically just lots of dialogue but i’m just trying to fill in tp!mom!reader and drew’s lore. drew being tipsy + corniness & cliches

"we are getting fucked up tonight." your bestfriend shouted. it was thursday, which meant it was 'going out' night. your baby was safe with your sister, and you were in the passenger seat of your bestfriend's 2009 honda civic adjusting final touches to your makeup in the passenger seat mirror. "i fucking hope so. jason has been blowing up my phone all week, threatening to come steal baby." you applied another layer of lipgloss.

"are you fucking serious?" aubrey questioned, looking at you with loving eyes. even though you brought the topic up so casually, she knew it hurt you. "i love you." she branched her arms out over the car console, you accepted her embrace. "now let's get fucked up!" she gave you a kiss on your head. no one had ever made you feel as loved as she did.

ᡣ𐭩˙⋆.˚

"sorry ladies," your usual bouncer stopped you and aubrey, "bars closed tonight. some cast rented it out."

"what?" you realized he wasn't joking. "what cast?" you furrowed your brows, wondering who the fuck would rent out a bar in the middle of nowhere, north carolina. "don't know, some show that's filmed here though."

"you can't just let us in?" you bestfriend proposed. "we know we're you're favorite. cmonnnn." the bouncer giggled, you guys definitely were his favorite, but unfortunately he wouldn't budge. "i wish there was something i could do. sorry girls."

"it's okay." you sighed, grabbing aubrey by her arm and dragging her to the side. she was one to cause a scene and you weren't in the mood to deal with that right now. "this is bullshit." she groaned. "i bet they're rich. rich people always ruining some shit for normal people like us." she circled around you. "can't even enjoy our thursday night anymore."

"it's okay, we can go somewhere else."

"you wanna get in?" an unfamiliar voice interrupted, before you could yank aubrey back to the car. both of you jolting your heads towards the voice. it was a tall pale man, a lit cigarette hung from his lips.

"yeah, can you get us in?" aubrey took no time taking up the offer, interrupting the prolonged eye contact you were sharing with this guy; he was cute and that was hard to find around here. "this way." he tossed his unfinished cigarette in the floor and stomped on it.

"thank you." you said as he held the door for you. as soon as you entered the bar you realized that maybe you really didn't belong there. thursday's usually had a solid crowd, and a familiar one at that. but there wasn't one familiar face aside from yours or your bestfriend's. "shit." you mumbled under your breath, the guy who let you in now long gone, entertaining a group of who you assumed were his friends.

finding a seat at the bar with aubrey, you asked the bartender what the deal was, "so, what's going on?" he poured you your usual. "some netflix cast rented out the bar for the night. outer banks or something?"

“oh, i’ve heard that show.” you replied, trying your best to discreetly look around, seeing if you seen any famous faces from tv, although you didn’t watch much tv. “i didn’t think they actually filmed that here?”

“me neither,” the bartender agreed, before leaving you and aubrey to tend to another person.

you watched as people danced, they all seemed well bonded, almost like family. you giggled at them, hoping one day you’d find a bond like that. you spotted the guy who had let you in, he danced pretty okay for a white guy. “should we dance?” you turned back to aubrey, practically shouting over the loud music.

“why are you even asking?” aubrey laughed, you knew her better than to ask if she wanted to dance, she was always down to dance.

you both danced together as ‘yeah!’ by usher played over the speakers, before you both had roaming hands all over you. you felt big hands wrap around lower stomach, “was hoping i’d come across you again.” a somewhat familiar voice whispered in your ear. you kept your back and ass to him, but turned your head to see his face, selfishly hoping it was the man who’d let you in, relief washed over you when you realized it was. “i was thinking the same thing.” you flirted.

“oh yeah?” he whispered in your ear again. the way he had lean down to reach your ear had your stomach doing flips. “why’s that?” you noticed his breath smelled of liquor and mint.

“i wanted to thank you again.” you answered, pushing your ass even closer to his crotch. flirting with men at the bar definitely was not foreign to you. “you don’t have to thank me. anyone would have let a pretty girl like you in.” he spun you around so you were facing him. “there’s that face.” he smiled, his bloodshot and droopy eyes staring down at you like you were the only girl to ever exist. this felt too intimate for your liking.

“so, why’re you here?” you grabbed his hands from your waist, just holding them with your own, you both still feeling the rhythm of the music playing. “you’re famous or something?”

“something like that i guess.” he shrugged, like he didn’t really want to talk about it. “why are you here?”

“i live here.” you said confused, wondering if he has expected a different answer. “i don’t want to sound like a creep, but you’re like, insanely beautiful.” his lips grazed your ear as he whispered to you. you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol talking or if he actually meant it, but nonetheless you were flattered. a sexy— famous guy saying you were insanely beautiful?

“thank you.” you blushed, pulling your jean skirt down. usually you were good at playing a man’s game but this time felt different. this time felt like something could actually come from this and you hated it.

after some more ramble jamble on the dance floor, the mysterious man asked if you wanted to go outside. “wanna step outside for a minute with me?” he extended his hand, you accepted.

you watched as he lit a cigarette. it seemed like every ounce of outgoingness left your body, you loved talking to and entertaining men, but he just made you flat out nervous. “so you’re from around here?” he offered you a swig of his cig, you declined.

“yeah, just down the street. me and my bestfriend come here every thursday.” you watched his lips as he took a swig, the way his eyebrows furrowed from the smoke was hot. you hated people who smoked but there you were getting turned on over it.

“sorry about that again. i seen the whole fiasco with the bouncer.” he looked down at you. “i mean it’s not your fault.” you reassured him.

“sorry i never asked. what’s your name?” his voice seemed so much deeper and clear now that you two were outside, almost like he was fully sober. it made you question how drunk he actually was, and how much of what you told you he actually meant. “y/n!”

“i’m drew.” he held his hand out, you shook it. his hands was so much bigger than yours. matter of fact, everything about him was so much bigger than you.

before you could question drew and his ‘famousness’ any further you heard his group yelling his name. they were all getting into a limo. how famous were these people? they needed a limo? but you couldn’t recognize literally any of their faces? “i guess that’s me.” drew again, flicked his unfinished cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. “what’s your number y/n?” he pulled out his phone and pulled up the keypad.

you swiftly put in your number and called yourself. you never gave your phone number away to the men you entertained, it was your own personal rule you set for yourself. but something about this one was different and you just couldn’t say no. “i’ll see you around y/n.”

#bookshelf #trailerpark!mom!reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey headcanons #drew starkey blurb #drew starkey x you #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine

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winchesterwild78 · 3 days ago

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The Demon and Me

Master List

Characters: Demon Dean x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Demon Dean, Angst, Language, Filth

A/N: Oh Demon Dean…he makes me feral-sorry not sorry. Just a short story that popped in my head. I have a ton of chapters for other stories half written, but I couldn’t help myself. Dean is now a demon and the reader is left with the weight of his absence, what will happen when he returns to the bunker?

Minors DNI 18+

I couldn’t stop him from taking the mark. Sam and I tried to talk him out of it. Hell, Cain even tried, but Dean wanted to save the world. So he accepted it.

The changes were subtle at first. I hardly noticed, but when his bloodlust hit an all time high, and he was rougher with me in bed, I knew the mark was taking root in his soul. It scared me and excited me too.

My sweet, grumpy Dean was starting to become more intense and angry. Dean always had anger, just bubbling below the surface, but this was different. His anger, no, his hate, was deeper, more intense.

The day he became a demon and left was the day my soul broke. I had been in love with him since he was 20 and I was 18. After a particular nasty hunt, we fell into each other’s arms and bed. Not only did I give Dean my virginity, but I gave him my heart.

He was the only man I’d ever loved, and I swore he’d be the only man I would love for the rest of my life. He loved me too. He’d said it a few times, but the way he held me, protected me, took care of me and the way he made love to me told me more than his words could.

Now with the Mark of Cain decorating his forearm like a late night drunken tattoo, that love I felt from him seems gone. The day Metatron stabbed him and killed him was the day my world, my love died.

When Dean opened his eyes the beautiful green that I could get lost in was replaced by solid black. Dean was a demon.

I begged him to stay, “Dean, please don’t leave. We can fix this, fix you. Please don’t walk away from us. I love you.” My pleas grew softer and more meek as his black eyes flashed and a smirk grew across his face.

Dean stepped closer to me. His hot breath rushed over my skin. I turned away, unable to look at him. He grabbed my chin and turned me towards him.

My chin and cheeks hurt under his grip. “Oh Y/N, come on now. Look at me. Look at what I’ve become for you.” My eyes flicked to his black eyes and an audible sob left my mouth.

“Dean, please.” “Oh sweetheart, I like it when you beg. I just wish you were on your knees or in our bed doing it.”

“No, Dean. Not like this.” Dean growled and before I knew it, he had me pinned against the wall, knocking the air from my lungs. His strong hands held mine above my head as he placed a searing kiss on my lips.

It was rough and devoid of love. I cried harder. His lips trailing down my neck and to my clothes covered breasts. “This is in the way.” He growled as he ripped my shirt and bra off. His lips captured my now free nipples. My body reacted to his touch.

I was so ashamed, the arousal that shot through my body was fighting against the emotions I was feeling.

I loved Dean, but I didn’t, no couldn’t love this Dean.

As he was about to remove the rest of my clothes, Sam and Cass arrived. They pulled Dean off of me and I collapsed to the ground. Dean laughed and then disappeared.

Sam ran to my side and held me, wrapping his flannel shirt around me. I cried for hours. My Dean was gone.

As the weeks wore on my heartbreak deepened to my core. Dean was my soulmate. Cass told us that from the moment we met him. He told Dean, there was a plan for him and me, and he needed to let me into his heart.

After that Dean and I had long, late night conversations about marriage and children. We both agreed it was something we wanted and we were willing to try. After a few years, Dean was weighing the options of getting out of this life.

“I think we could sweetheart.” He whispered after we had made love on his birthday. “I think we could leave this life behind, and have those babies we talked about.” I laid in his arms, smiling and thinking about the possibility of having his children and living a normal life. “I think we could too, baby. I’d love that.” I whispered back to him as he held me close.

Now all I was left with was an empty bed and a broken soul. I couldn’t get out of bed. Sam and Cass tried, hell even Jody tried. I was left to mourn him. I felt as if this would hurt less if he had stayed dead. Knowing he’s out there, alive, but as a demon was just too much to bear.

Sam left about a week ago. Gone to try to track down Dean. He’d gotten a call from another hunter who said he had run into Dean, and he was acting differently. Sam wanted me to go, but I said no.

“Come on, Y/N. You need to get out of here and going to find him might be exactly what you need. Please. I’m worried about you. You barely eat, you cry yourself to sleep, and you won’t leave your room. You’re slowly killing yourself.”

Looking up at Sam with weary eyes and a broken soul, “I’m sorry Sammy. I can’t.” He sighed and came over to the bed, hugging me and placing a soft kiss on my head. “Okay. I love you, and if you need me while I’m gone, just call.” I nodded and heard Sam leave the room.

About thirty minutes later, Sam was leaving. I heard the heavy door of the bunker close shut. I laid on Dean’s side of the bed, trying to hold on to the last bit of scent there was. It was starting to fade.

Crawling out of bed, my body was exhausted. I needed a shower. Walking to the dresser I grabbed a clean pair of panties, my jogging pants and a t-shirt Dean had left. I pulled it to my nose and inhaled. It smelled just like him. My breath caught in my throat. I missed him so much, his voice, his kiss, his arms…his love.

Before I got in the shower I pulled out my cell phone. Looking through pictures of the two of us. Some I took of him without him knowing, and some he took of us. I loved looking at them. Pictures of happier times, when my heart and soul were full.

I looked at my contact list, my finger hovering over Dean’s name. I have no idea what came over me, but I pushed the call.

A few rings and my pounding heart was deafening. Then the world stood still, he answered. “Well hello, sweetheart.” Oh he sounded like my Dean. My voice, weak from all the crying, “Hi Dean. I miss you.” “Oh, baby I miss you too.” My heart swelled, was he better, did he somehow find a cure? “Want me to come over and fuck that pretty pussy of yours? Make little half-breed babies?” Tears formed in my eyes.

“Dean, please fight this. Do it for us, for me. Please.” I begged. “Oh sweetheart, I don’t want to fight this. All that anger, that guilt that weighed me down for years is gone. I’m finally free. Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to get out of this life and live free?” “Not like this, Dean. I wanted to be with you, to get married and have your children.”

“Aww sweetheart, you’re foolish to think that’s what I really wanted. I only told you what you wanted to hear so I could have that sweet little pussy of yours. I remember the day you gave yourself to me. The tears you shed because my cock was so big. Mmm, I wish I could go back and fuck you all over again, make you bleed all over my cock.”

“Dean, stop, please. This isn’t you.” “Yes it is, sweetheart. Come on baby, I need your dripping pussy. None of these others have satisfied me like yours has. Believe me, I’ve tried too.”

I felt sick, like I was going to vomit and the hole in my chest got bigger. I let out an audible sob, “Dean, STOP!” “Aww I’m sorry sweetheart, I shouldn’t tell you about all the pussy I’ve had since I left. Besides, I’m sure you and Sammy have gotten pretty cozy after I left. The kid needs a good lay, and I’m okay if you fuck him.”

I couldn’t take it anymore, “Dean, I love you, please don’t ever forget that. I know deep down you know that. I know you know we are supposed to be together. I just can’t do this anymore. Goodbye Dean.” I hung up and sat on the bed, sobbing. I knew better than to call him. I just wanted him back.

I made my way to the shower, turning on the hot water, and I stepped in. Letting the water envelop me like a warm hug, like Dean’s hug. Everything I did, everywhere I went reminded me of him. I had to get away.

I turned off the water and got dressed. Dean’s shirt smelled just like him. With a shaky breath, I called my sister. “Hey, Y/N. How are you sweetie?” “I’m not okay, can I come stay with you for a while. I’ll explain everything when I get there.” “Of course you can, I’ll make up the guest room for you. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Hanging up with her I went to mine and Dean’s room and packed a bag. I left a note on the bed for Sam, telling him I went to her house for a little bit. Walking through the bunker, all of the memories of Dean and I came rushing back. All of the playful touches, the intimate moments, and the stolen kisses, a beautiful, but painful reminder of the life I had and that’s now gone.

I got in my car and drove towards my sister’s house. It was an 8 hour drive, so I was hoping to drive all the way through. However, my car had other ideas. About 5 ½ hours in, it started smoking and I pulled over. Dean had taught me all about cars and how to fix them. “I don’t want you stranded or getting screwed over by a mechanic. I want you to be able to fix what you can and tell them what’s wrong with it so they don’t try to take advantage of you.”

I looked under the hood, “Shit! Busted radiator hose. Of course in the middle of nowhere.” A nice older couple saw me about 10 minutes after breaking down and offered me a ride to town. I thanked them and as we pulled in I saw a small mechanic shop. I thought to myself I bet his name is Bubba. As I got out of the car a middle aged, heavy set man in greasy overalls approached me. He wiped his hand on a rag before he extended it to me. “Hey there darlin’, name’s Bubba, this is my shop. What can I do ya for?” I snorted and tried to cough to cover it up, “Yes hi, my car broke down about 5 miles East of here. It’s a busted radiator hose. Do you have a tow truck?”

“Yep I do, come on, let’s go get your car.” I hopped in his truck with him and he drove towards your car. “So what brings a young woman like yourself to this neck of the woods?” “Oh, I was passing through, heading towards my sister’s house. Just my luck the car would break down.” He chuckled, “Yeah, well I’ll get it fixed and get you on your way.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of us. Pulling out my phone I sent my sister a text to let her know what was going on. I told her I’d keep her updated.

A few minutes later Bubba pulled up to my car and looked under the hood, “Yep, busted radiator hose. I’ll tow ya to the shop and see what I have there. Hopefully I have this hose.” I nodded and he hitched the car up.

Once back at his shop I heard him searching for the hose. “Well, looks like I don’t have a hose that will fit. I have a friend that has a shop a town over, but he’s on a fishing trip for the next two days. He usually has all types of parts that I don’t. I’ll send him a message and see. Unfortunately you’ll have to hang around town for a few days.”

I sighed, “Okay. Is there a hotel I can stay at?” “Yeah, there’s one right around the corner. Great place, with a restaurant and bar in the same area.” I nodded and thanked him. I gave Bubba my number to call me when he gets an answer about the part.

I started to walk towards the hotel, Bubba gave me directions and even called the clerk to let her know I was on my way. Once I arrived, a sweet middle aged woman named Carol greeted me with a warm smile. “Hey, you must be Y/N. Bubba told me you’d be heading this way. Here ya go honey, room 101.” I smiled, nodded and took the key.

I walked towards the room, unlocking the door I walked in. It was an older hotel, but the room was immaculate and well taken care of. It made me think of the hotels I would stay in with Dean and Sam.

Closing the door I did the usual checks that the boys taught me. After putting my things down I sent my sister a text telling her it was going to be at least 2 days. I started to unpack and decided to take a shower to wash off the day.

As I climbed out of the shower my mind started playing tricks on me. I swear I heard the deep rumble of the Impala. “Stop it! He’s not here. You’re just missing him.” Getting dressed, I decided on jeans and a nice top.

I grabbed my stuff and headed towards the bar and grill across the parking lot. It was getting dark, and there seemed to be a lot of cars in the lot. I pushed the door open and was instantly met with the smell of bar food and alcohol.

I sat at the bar and the bartender came over taking my food and drink order. I scanned the bar and noticed some couples cuddled up and a few single people scouting the area too. The bartender brought my drink over and told me the food would be out shortly. I nodded and thanked him.

I was sipping my whiskey when I felt a chill run up my spine. “Well ello love.” I spun on the barstool and was face to face with Crowley. I felt the anger rise up in me and without thinking I slapped him across his face.

“Oh I see you’re not as happy to see me as I am you.” “Why the fuck are you here, Crowley?” “Oh, loverboy over there is trying to win a bet. I told him he couldn’t get that sweet little virgin over there in the sack, he said he could get her in bed in less than 10 minutes. You care to wager?” My gaze fell to where he pointed, it was Dean. He was talking to a very young, very beautiful woman. She looked like she just turned 21. By the smile and giggle coming from her, Dean was about to win the bet.

My heart beat faster in my chest. Crowley smirked, “How about you go say ello to him, you know for old times sake.”

As I met his eyes tears were starting to fill mine. “Aww come now love, Dean still loves you, it’s just buried very, very deep.” I stood and was going to head to the bathroom, but as I stood I lost my footing and knocked over a glass, breaking it. Heads turned towards me, one of which was Dean. His eyes, soft and green, met mine. He jumped up from his seat and in a flash was beside me.

The young woman clearly forgotten, for now. “Hey sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

My breath hitched and my words caught in my throat, “just passing through” I managed to get out. Dean stepped closer to me. The unmistakable smell that was Dean, leather, whisky and a hint of mint. His body heat enveloped me.

“Mmm it’s so good to see you baby. You smell incredible. Good enough to eat. Like cookies and vanilla.” Crawley’s head shot up and his eyes wide. A tear slipped out of my eyes, “Dean, I have to go.” “Aww come now baby don’t be like that. Is Sammy with you?”

My gaze locked with his, “No, I’m alone.” I knew it was stupid to tell him that, but I couldn’t help myself. He looked like my Dean and he smelled like my Dean. The rational part of my brain told me to run, but the part of me that still loved him told me to stay.

Dean stepped closer, hand gripping my chin and he pulled me into a searing kiss. As he pulled away, my bottom lip caught between his teeth and he bit, drawing blood. I winced in pain.

A low chuckle came from him. All he said was “perfect”. I had no idea what he meant by that, but it sent a shiver through my core. The look in his eyes terrified me.

Pulling away I walked towards the bathroom. I knew he was hot on my heels. As I reached for the bathroom door I felt Dean’s strong arm grab me. “Darlin’ don’t be like that. I walked away from untouched pussy for you.”

I turned around, I knew he didn’t care how much this hurt me, “Dean, please let me go. Go back to her or whoever else you have in mind tonight. I can’t do this anymore.”

As his grip tightened on my arm Crowley interrupted, “Dean, she’s not worth it. Let’s go. She’ll just complicate things.” Dean looked between Crowley and me, now full on crying. “Yeah, I’m not worth it, Dean.” I pulled my arm away and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

I collapsed against the wall and quiet sobs left my body. I’m trapped here, and he’s here. The one person I was trying to outrun. I pulled out my phone to call Sam. As I was about to dial his number there was a knock on the door. “I’ll be out in a minute.” I was able to choke out.

“Open the door, love. We need to talk.” Crowley’s voice boomed through the door.

I unlocked the door and made eye contact with him. The anger filling my body. He took my love, my future, my Dean. The anger flashed in my eyes followed by rage. “Now love, don’t go making any trouble for yourself.” I cut him off, “What the fuck do you want?!” “I don’t want you to follow us. Dean is finally accepting his new role in life. He’s a great demon, and he’s turning out to be a great right hand man. You being here, being around him is only going to confuse him and cause him to suppress his new side.”

“Crowley, you will never win. I know my Dean. He’s in there fighting to be free, fighting to come back to me. He loves me and this bro fest you have going on will end.” “I really think you have more things to worry about than me and Dean right now. You need to take care of yourself, you know, for the next generation of hunters.” He smirked and it sent a shiver down my spine.

“What the fuck do you care? I thought you hated hunters because they mess up your bottom line?!” “Oh that’s adorable. You’ll find out soon enough.” Then Crowley left without another word.

After a few minutes I finally left the bathroom. I saw Dean in the corner with the young woman from earlier. My heart ached in my chest. She was touching his chest and giggling as he kissed her softly. I sat there watching them, his eyes flicked to mine a few times, but he kept touching her, kissing her and whispering things that made her blush and giggle.

Her friends were laughing and they were all drinking. My heart was breaking with each whisper, kiss and tender touch they shared. I knew what he was whispering in her ear. The same thing he would whisper in mine, his lips ghosting hers and then down her neck. As the minutes passed I couldn’t take it anymore.

I paid my tab, got my food to go and started to walk towards the door. I heard her giggle one last time and my resolve broke. Tears streamed down my face. Maybe Crowley was right, maybe Dean didn’t want to fight this. Maybe all the shit he had been through was too much and he just finally gave in.

By the time I made it back to my hotel room the tears were falling faster and my sobs grew louder. I managed to change, pulling Dean’s shirt on again. The only energy I had left in me was to put on his shirt. As I curled into a ball in the bed Crowley’s words played over and over in your head, “You need to take care of yourself, you know, for the next generation of hunters. Oh that’s adorable. You’ll find out soon enough.”

His words echoed in my head as I drifted off to sleep. My sleep was restless, flashes of better times mixed with flashes of Dean with his lifeless black eyes. I woke myself up sobbing and screaming Dean’s name. As I sat up in bed, trying to stop the tears and steady my breath I saw a black shadow in the corner. I gasped, reached for the knife under my pillow but it was gone.

A panic filled my body. Then the light turned on. “Looking for this darlin’?” Dean was standing in my room, holding my demon blade. I gasped, “Dean.”

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#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #dean winchester smut #demon dean x plus size reader #demon dean smut #demon dean x reader

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hxney-lemcn · 3 days ago

Text

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: continuing to struggle with coming to terms, reader seeks solace in Anya, trying and failing to confess, until they finally couldn't avoid it any longer.

tw: reader is bad at feelings.

a/n: this has become a series...

wc: 2k

Master List

In response to your newfound feelings, you decided to do what you do best. Ignore it. Ignore the fluttering of your heart when Daisuke looked towards you after a joke, like he wanted to make you laugh specifically. Or the quiet moments, sitting side by side at night, you didn’t miss the way he would stare at you instead of the fake sky, making your insomnia problem worse. Or how he had become more touchy, how had you not noticed it before? They way he’d brush the back of his hand against yours when walking side by side, or how he’d bump shoulders with you more often than not, or the brief hugs he’d give you if you looked particularly down.

It was eating at you, but you’d be damned if you were gonna say anything. You can’t remember a time you felt this strongly about someone. Sure, you’ve had passing crushes and found people attractive, but those all passed. But this? You were stuck, hurtling through space, with someone you not only found attractive, but were also falling for. You felt like you were going to tear your hair out. This wasn’t good for your health. It felt like you were going crazy. Not to mention the constant urge to just get all your aggression out by squeezing the living daylights out of Daisuke.

It seemed you weren’t hiding your deteriorating mental state well. Finishing your daily tasks for Anya, she seemed to have noticed the tired look in your eyes…or maybe the eye bags, those might have been a dead give-away.

“Have you been sleeping alright?” Anya asked, eyes holding concern.

“As good as it’ll get,” You shrugged, deflecting the question.

“If there’s something on your mind you can always talk to me,” She remarked. “It may be my job, but I also care about you.” That made you pause, biting your lip and you mulled over your options. Either keep your feelings to yourself and go nuts or talk to the only other person you feel comfortable with…

Sitting down, you kept your gaze on your lap, fiddling with your fingers, “I’ve…uh. I’ve come to a sudden realization.”

“And what might that be?” Anya asked softly, watching your anxious movements with a trained eye. Your fidgeting grew worse, now messing with the sleeves of your uniform. If you said it outloud that would make it real, and that was what was holding you back. All these new emotions scared you, and for all you knew Daisuke only thought of you as a friend. The uncertainties of the whole situation made you want to grasp onto any semblance of control you held, and that was holding onto your emotions, keeping them in check and acting like you didn’t want to kiss the living daylights out of one of your crewmates.

“I think I’m going crazy.”

It's not what you wanted to say, but the truth felt too heavy on your tongue, unable to push the words past your lips. Avoiding her gaze, you looked at the board behind her, eyes landing on a drawing of Jimmy with the word yimpy. Glaring at the image, you wondered why traces of Daisuke seemed to follow you no matter where you went.

“Hmm,” Anya hummed, tapping her pen against the desk. “Why?”

“I…I,” You tried so hard to say it, to get the damn fuzzy yet heavy feelings off your chest, but your mouth wouldn’t let you. Thankfully, Anya was patient, analyzing you to make sure this wasn’t too serious to your mental health. Squeezing your hands into tight fists, you pushed through, the words finally spilling past your lips, “I think I’m falling for Daisuke!”

Your eyes widened at how loud you said it, cheeks warming and glancing behind you to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Anya’s demeanor softened, letting out a small sigh of relief. You really scared her for a second. But now that the dam had broken, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from gushing.

“I-I’ve never felt this way before and it’s so scary. And it’s hard to avoid because he’s always following me around and making me laugh, and when I’m with him it doesn’t seem so bad, but then when I’m alone I overthink everything. It’s driving me crazy.”

Anya nodded, taking in your words and coming up with a thoughtful response, “New things are scary. But it seems like you both really like each other. I’d say the best way to go about this is to confront the problem, tell Daisuke how you feel. As scary as it may be, it's better than keeping it in. Of course if you two do start dating then you’d both have to fill out some paperwork-”

“I think we’re skipping a step,” You said, words muffled as you shoved your face in your hands.

…

You knew Anya was right. You should just tell him, that’s the most logical conclusion, but if you struggled to tell her, how the hell were you supposed to tell the actual person? You glanced at your main problem, wearily eyeing him as Swansea was trying to guide him in fixing a pipe. You weren’t an idiot, you knew that he liked you, but the question was how much? Was it all platonic? Maybe a hint of romantic feelings? Was he already crushing on you? How the hell were you supposed to know? It angered you, you were out of your depth and it was scary.

“I did it!” Daisuke exclaimed, smiling brightly towards Swansea than you.

“Good job,” Swansea muttered gruffly. “You didn’t break anything this time.”

When his eyes landed on you, expectant look in his eyes, you found yourself folding, “You did great.” Curse your traitorous heart speeding up when his grin brightened. He was nearly jumping across the halls, vibrating where he stood.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, kid,” Swansea shook his head. “The question is can you do it again?”

“I’m sure he can,” You remarked offhandedly. The old man glanced at you before shaking his head, muttering something about kids these days.

“Let’s take a ten minute break,” Swansea grumbled. “Not sure how much longer I can deal with you two.” You watched him leave with a raised eyebrow, your lips slightly lifted in a small smirk.

It was silent for a few moments before Daisuke spoke up, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, tilting your head. “Yeah, why?”

“You just…seem a bit off,” He muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You snarked, eyes falling into a glare.

“N-nothing bad,” He defended, holding his hands up like a shield. “You just…you can talk to me y’know. We’re friends after all.”

Letting out a sigh you deflated, “Sorry, I know. It’s just…hard to explain.”

“Harder to explain than stealing the Captain's scanner for some sweetener packets?”

“Hmm,” You genuinely thought about it, amused. “No, I don’t think I can beat that.” The two of you chuckled softly before it was quiet again. With the way Daisuke worriedly looked at you, you felt a bit guilty. You had been snapping at him more than usual (easy to beat as you never really snapped at him), taking out your frustrating emotions on those around you. You had been unfair, and now seems like the perfect time to finally get the weight off your chest…and apologize properly.

“I, uh, have something to admit,” You confessed, rubbing your arm awkwardly. “Just…let’s not make it weird-”

“Alright,” Swansea unknowingly cut you off, coming back in. “No more time to dawdle, the ship won’t fix itself.” You huffed, glaring at the ground. It was just your luck that right as you were about to do the grown thing and talk about your emotions someone had to cut you off.

Pushing yourself off the crate you were sitting on, you waved at the two on your way out, “I’ll see ya around.” Not looking back, you missed the way Daisuke watched you in concern.

…

You paused mid-turn, freezing when you heard someone knock on your door. Daisuke’s muffled call of your name rang through your room. Grumbling to yourself, you got up. It’s not like you were getting any sleep anyhow. Pulling down the handle, the door slid open to reveal Daisuke, his hair was ruffled and he was wearing his pajamas. A frown tugged at his lips, eyes watching your sluggish form. “Come in,” You murmured, stepping away from the door and sitting on your bed. Closing the door behind him, he sat next to you. No words needed to be shared, you knew exactly why he was here. Once again, you found the silence to be terribly loud, racking your brain on where to start.

“I’m sorry for treating you like shit,” You apologized, gaze focused in front of you.

“What are you talking about?” Daisuke asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Y’know,” You grumbled, picking at the blanket beneath you. “I keep snapping at you out of nowhere. It’s not right, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Oh,” He nodded in realization.

“Yeah,” You sighed.

“Something been irritating you?” He asked leaning down to try and meet your gaze.

“That's…I…” Once again, you felt your tongue grow heavy at the thought of admitting your feelings. Allowing yourself to be so vulnerable was terrifying. It was like carving your heart out and serving it on a platter, hoping that he’d treat it with care. The question was, were you willing to put the knife to your chest and cut?

Meeting his eyes, held with concern and something you couldn’t put your finger on, you could feel the knife twist.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Daisuke’s eyes widened with wonder, looking more awake than ever before, tanned cheeks turning red. He felt like he was dreaming, but at the same time it felt off. You were confessing to him, something he had hoped for…but you also seemed…sad. Like it was taking a toll on you, and if that was the reason why you were more easily irritated…does that mean you don’t like it? Was there a way to fall for someone and hate them for it?

“And that’s a bad thing?” He managed to ask, voice wobbling in fear.

“No,” You whispered, tilting your head down and facing your lap. “It’s just scary. I’ve never felt like this before and I don’t know how to handle it.”

“That’s okay,” Daisuke whispered back, inching his hand closer to your own. “I’m new to this too. We can figure it out. Together.” Biting your lip, you eyed his hand that stopped just before touching you. In a short burst of confidence you linked your pinkies, bathing in the warm feeling that expanded through your entire being instead of running from it.

“Do you think you can stay?” You asked, your skin bristling at the vulnerability in your tone.

You were silly to think that Daisuke would treat your heart carelessly. No, he was going to treat it tenderly, caring for it as if it were his own. In return, he carved his own heart out, giving you an equal offering.

“Of course,” Daisuke nodded, his usual boyish smile more tender and warm.

Bonus:

Both you and Daisuke had been late to breakfast, and Anya had a small hunch as to why. So she offered to get you both, ignoring the way Jimmy grumbled about you both being spoiled brats. Knocking on your door, she heard shuffling on the other side, hushed whispers, and finally footsteps walking towards the door. Cracking the door open, you peaked your head out, sleepy eyes staring up at the nurse.

“Good morning,” You muttered, voice still laced with sleep.

“Good morning,” She greeted back with an amused smile. “You and Daisuke slept in.”

That seemed to make you wide awake, muttering curse words before rushing back into your room, a muffled sorry yelled through the door. Walking back to the main hull, Anya shook her head in amusement. It seems you finally followed her advice.

#mouthwashing x reader #daisuke mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing daisuke x reader #mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #washmouthing daisuke #x reader

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kainuhsblog · 1 day ago

Text

Mr. Choi from 2A • Jiung Choi

prompt More Than Words Elementary gets the surprise of a lifetime when the kids figure out that the two kindest teachers for 4th and 5th grade are married. pairing teacher!jiung x fem!reader genre school teachers, established relationship, fluff warnings mentions of food, playful banter, school word count 3,796 (this story wrote itself) a/n hi! i'm back! I have something written this time! jiung is my ultimate bias, so i’ve been itching to write something for him. please note that this fic will be told in 3rd pov, but kind of centric to none of the main characters, but to one of jiung’s students, emma!

want more piwon posts from me? check out my fake texts here and here!

There are many things in the world that Emma loves. Her parents, for one – obviously. They spoil her endlessly, and even gave her a little brother, so she loves them.

Emma also loves trucks. She loves them simply because her dad always lifts her up to get in the thing. He even has to do a little stretch to get in himself. Big trucks that make even her dad seem small are always fun.

Third on the list – not that it has a particular order – will have to go to the bakery near her house. Ms. Lim makes the best cupcakes known to man, and her mom loves them just as much as she does, so they like to splurge on them every once in a while.

Fourth; the quaint burger place lodged in an alleyway on that busy street Emma always forgets the name of. Every once in a while, her mom and dad take her (and her little brother, now) to the place, and she always manages to see her uncle manning the bar. She wonders if he works there.

And last, but certainly not least; her 4th grade teacher Mr. Choi. Mr. Choi never enters the room without a fond smile on his face as he greets the class in the morning. He never lets them leave without some words of praise when they leave the class in the afternoon.

Mr. Choi is very attentive, explaining things a million times over for everyone to understand (who knew there were different methods to learning how to multiply big numbers?) and is very interactive with his class. Mr. Choi is probably the kindest person Emma knows.

If someone were to come up to her and shove a microphone and a camera in her face (because people do that now) and ask her who she thought the kindest person in the world was, her first answer would definitely be Mr. Choi. That’s just how good he is.

Anyways, before the author starts her spiel on the guy, let’s get into the actual story – shall we?

The list of things that Emma loves in this world differ depending on what day you ask her. Her constants will always be her parents (and brother), trucks, Ms. Lim’s bakery, the burger place, and Mr. Choi from class 2A.

Lately though, Emma thinks that a new constant might add to her list of things she loves in this world. The thought came to her mind halfway through the previous semester.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

At the beginning of her first semester in fourth grade, a new teacher for fifth grade arrived in bubbly fashion. With beautiful kind eyes and a charming smile; the new teacher tumbled her way into the lives of everyone at More Than Words Elementary School.

Emma was one of the people who only entertained things within her bubble. As a bubble dweller, the only things she knew dwelled in her bubble with her. She didn’t know anything about new staff or teachers unless someone entered her bubble to tell her. Which is how she found out about the new teacher in the first place.

She had many friends within the school who greeted her in the mornings, and her cousin Shelby was friends with her next door neighbor Tommy. Those two always brought her the gossip from their fifth grade circle.

They were all hanging out on the playground for recess when Shelby mentioned it to Emma. Something along the lines of the nicest teacher ever just came to their school or something. Emma excused Shelby’s comments because the elder didn’t have Mr. Choi in fourth grade.

Tommy described the woman like she hung the stars in the sky every single night for him to look at and ponder her. Shelby told him to write a book if he wanted to be that sappy. Emma laughed even if she didn’t get the reference all too well.

For the rest of that week, the new teacher was all her fifth grade friends seemed to want to talk about. She stopped listening to them halfway through. Mr. Choi was the nicest teacher ever, so she wanted to see his competition with her own two eyes.

If someone was listening to her thoughts, then they made quick plans, because the next day called for a multitude of rain and the absence of half of the students in her small school. Emma still went to school because her mom and dad had jobs to go to despite the rain, and her grandma was out of the country so no one her parents trusted could watch their kids.

She walked happily to her class, thinking of the pastries she would smell in the afternoon (as it was the day her and her mom went to the bakery) when she spotted a beautiful woman standing outside her class door talking to Mr. Choi. Her smile stretched like the sun on the horizon as it rose in the morning. A warmth like no other had hit Emma the moment she saw it.

Emma slowed her pace as she neared the classroom, and she heard the familiar words of reassurance from her teacher to the lady in front of him to ease her worries about whatever she stressed about. The kind words sounded a bit different in Emma’s ears though.

Emma greeted the adults like she was taught, and both Mr. Choi and the teacher greeted her with similar waves of kindness. The other teacher even knew her name. Why would the other teacher know her name?

Emma tilted her head in confusion and stood before the two teachers. The lady laughed and nudged Mr. Choi to get him to notice. Then, the teacher moved her left hand from the books she clung so tightly to her chest and extended it to the little girl before her.

“Hi Emma Kang, I’m the new fifth grade teacher Ms. (last name). It’s very nice to meet you!” The teacher introduced, and the shock couldn’t come fast enough as it morphed Emma’s face.

The lady before her was the kind teacher Shelby and Tommy told her about. Emma shook Ms. (last name)’s hand, feeling the familiar weight of an engagement band (her aunt Nina had just gotten engaged last month, so she knows how it feels on someone’s hand), and told the teacher that it was nice to meet her as well.

Turns out, Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were discussing the merge of their classrooms for the day so that they can watch movies and play games. None of the other fifth grade teachers wanted to do such things with their classes, (as it was still the beginning of the semester) but Mr. Choi thought it would be fun to let his kids relax for one day.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Rainy days had now meant joint classes after the success of the first one that day, and Emma realized that she hoped for rainy days a lot more, so that she can see Ms. (last name) again and again and again. This was when she thought of the possibility of a new constant on her list.

Emma thinks that Ms. (last name) felt like the sun, especially when she brightened up the classrooms. Ms. (last name) was extra involved in just about everything, and Emma found herself wanting to join a few things just to see the bubbly teacher again.

Now, you (as the reader) might be wondering where I’ll fit the synopsis into this story, and I’m getting there. Anyways, back to the story.

Emma also notices how much livelier Mr. Choi seemed to get whenever Ms. (last name) would come around their area, for rainy days or not. The two teachers seemed really close, like they were friends before working together. Well, that’s how Emma saw it. Shelby and Tommy seemed to disagree though.

The two fifth graders often talked about how they coax small bits of information out of their homeroom teacher whenever they all can’t seem to understand a particularly hard subject (which is usually math.) Ms. (last name) never got into great detail about a lot of stuff, but she always talked about her fiance with a sense of “love” and “comfort”.

Emma knew about those feelings and those words, (she’s 9 for crying out loud) but no one ever seemed to explain the concept of love to her in a way where she understood or related to it, so topics like these had her confused. When she asked what that had to do with anything, Shelby exclaimed that she had a feeling that Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were a couple.

Emma sat there for a long while trying to see things from her cousin’s point of view. Sure, they were friendly and got along well, but a couple? They didn’t seem like a couple. She’s seen a few couples in her nine years on this earth, and her teachers don’t act as gross as those couples.

Besides, they both arrive in separate cars. From the couples Emma has seen, they usually arrive in the same car, do they not? Her mom and dad are almost always in the same vehicle. Aunt Nina and her fiance Sam never leave without each other at events. Uncle Darren and Aunt Lily only have one car. They drop Shelby to school in it everyday.

Tommy and Shelby bickered back and forth whilst Emma was left with the most confusing theory of her life.

Emma decided that day that there was no way Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were a couple. Well, that was until dinnertime, when she decided to ask the one couple she constantly has to see.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

“Mom, dad, can people be a couple even if they don’t hug and hold hands and kiss and arrive at places in the same car?” She asked them once her food was graced and her mom told her to dig in.

Both of her parents stopped their utensils from reaching their mouths to look at their daughter, seeing her staring back at them with a curious glint in her eyes.

“Sweetie, I think we’re gonna need more context than that.” Her mom answered.

“Your mom’s right, princess. What brought this on so suddenly?” Her dad added on.

“Well, you guys know my favorite teacher Mr. Choi right?” She started off, watching her parents put down their eating utensils to give her their undivided attention.

“Yes we do, what about him?” Her dad asked.

“And you guys know the pretty teacher I told you about a while ago? Ms. (last name)?” She inquired.

“Yes we do sweetheart.” Her mom answered, picking up her son’s spoon to help him eat his rice.

“Okay, so today at recess I mentioned to Shelby and Tommy how I thought the teachers were friends before working together because of how well they seem to just – what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Coexist?”

“No not that one … although that one is really good, thanks mom.”

“Of course!”

“Cooperate then?” Her dad chimed in, finally picking his utensil up.

“Oh yes that word! Thank you dad, you’re so smart! Anyways, yes I mentioned it to them, and then Shelby said something about how she thinks they’re a couple? So then I sat there to think about it and that doesn’t make sense? How are they a couple when they don’t kiss and hug and hold hands and go everywhere together and use the same car and have kids?” Emma rambled, getting more confused than ever as she’s explaining it to her parents.

“Maybe they don’t act that way because kids are present, princess.” Her dad supplied.

“Dad, you and mom were literally kissing in the kitchen … with me present!” Emma rebutted.

“That’s because you’re our kid. There’s a difference when it’s your own kid,” Her mom informed.

“And besides, they work together don’t they? Why act like a couple at work? That’s not very professional.” Her mom continued.

“You can’t do stuff like that at work?” Emma asked incredulously.

“No you can’t Emma.” Her dad replied.

“Wow, you learn something new everyday. What about the car thing then, they’re married and don’t come to work together? That’s so odd. You guys ride to work together all the time.” Emma questioned.

“Emma first of all, not all couples are married,” Her mom told her, ignoring the gasp of disbelief that escapes her nine year old.

“Secondly, they probably don’t even live together. Of course they’ll come to work in different cars.” Her mom continued.

Emma’s shocked beyond words, her brother Eric wasn't paying attention, just eating his food and replaying the opening for power rangers in his mind as he ignored them. Her dad’s just thinking about how all of this could’ve been avoided if they just gave her electronics and discovered the weird stuff on the internet in the first place. He pushed the thought from his mind though, his wife said no so he sticks beside her.

“Wait, so you’re telling me that couples aren’t married and don’t live together and can’t act gross and work?” Emma asked.

“Your Aunt Nina and her fiance Sam aren’t married, and they’re a couple.” Her dad answered.

“They’re practically married.” Emma replied.

“Wait, but do you guys think they’re a couple? An unmarried one who doesn't live together?” Emma followed up.

She saw her mom and dad rack their brains to see if they remembered anything out of the ordinary between the fourth and fifth grade teachers that night. And then she heard them agree with her crazy claim.

The next day, when she took Shelby’s side in the argument, their conversations shifted forever. The three friends had made it their new mission to find out if their teachers were really together.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

In between that time, the semester had ended, and the long awaited break had begun. Her mom and dad finally sat her down and told her about the different types of couples and all that jazz. They also took her to see her grandparents, where she stayed with all of her cousins for two weeks.

Emma, Shelby and Tommy met regularly to talk about their random findings, even during their break. Nothing was bigger than the time Emma saw them both at Ms. Lim’s bakery though. The two teachers didn’t notice her, and she didn’t try to get noticed as she saw them share a slice of cheesecake and basically smiled at each other for five minutes.

Through it all though, the mission seemed to be leading them practically nowhere. The new semester started with Shelby and Tommy telling Emma how Ms. (last name) came back with a new ring on her finger, signifying that she finally got married.

Tommy told her to check Mr. Choi’s hands to see if he had a ring on as well to confirm their suspicions. Mr. Choi always had rings on his fingers though, so that plan was fruitless.

For days on end, Emma tried to figure out if there was a new ring on Mr. Choi’s finger, and for days on end it seemed as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Just as Emma was about to give up though, the answers to their questions fell right into her lap.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

It was a rainy Thursday, and like all rainy days, Emma gets dropped off to school earlier than usual. Emma told her parents goodbye at the entrance of the school, watching her dad’s truck drive off with her mom waving at her wildly from the window.

Emma began to turn around to head inside before hearing the familiar purr of her teacher’s SUV pulling into the parking lot. She then stopped fully once she saw her teacher help Ms. (last name) out of the car?!?!!?!?!

Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) just came out of the same car. Mr. Choi is helping Ms. (last name) with her bags. Mr. Choi – OH MY GOODNESS DID MR. CHOI JUST KISS MS. (LAST NAME)’S FOREHEAD? were the thoughts that ran through Emma’s mind once she saw what transpired.

Emma wanted to stand there and rack her brain to find the sense in all of what had happened, but the teachers were both coming towards the entrance? Oh my goodness, Emma Kang. Go and run into a hole right now.

Emma picked up her pace and starts to walk away, but the warm tilt of a harmonious tone traveled to her ears as Ms. (last name) greeted her from her walk toward the door. Emma stopped like a deer in headlights, and turned slowly to greet the two teachers.

My goodness, they’re even sharing an umbrella. Emma Kang, for the first time in her life, just wants to not be a curious kid. Having to see this from her favorite teachers isn’t good for her psyche.

“Emma Kang, it’s been a while. How are you doing this morning? Are you ready for our rainy day movie session? I didn’t expect the rain to happen so quickly into the semester, but man am I excited for our class to get together again and have some fun. Do you want to help Mr. Choi and I choose the first movie? We’ve been arguing about the lineup all –”

“(First name), you’re rambling.” Mr. Choi interrupted, and only one thing entered Emma’s mind like a blaring siren once she saw Ms. (last name) stop and giggle about it, apologizing to the kid.

“You two are married.” Emma blurted out in the midst of Ms. (last name)’s apology, causing the two teachers to freeze up at the accusation – no, the declaration.

They both rubbed their necks in tandem; Ms. (last name) laughing nervously and suddenly finding interest in the school motto placed on the wall beside them. Mr. Choi looked at his wife, and then looked at his (now unfortunate) brightest student.

“You two are married right? Mr. Choi kissed your forehead and you guys got out of the same car and you guys are even holding pinkies over the handle of Ms. (last name)’s bag.” Emma asked, pointing out her deductions to the newlyweds before her.

The air stilled once she continued on with her findings, almost laughing at the fact that they immediately let go of each others’ pinkies. Mr. Choi told Emma to follow them, walking from the entrance and to the classroom of 2A.

Emma watched as they both started to unpack the bags, placing stuff here and there and working together like they’ve been doing this for years. Emma watched a new level of their cooperation unfold on that rainy thursday.

After they had set up everything, Ms. (last name) walked over to Mr. Choi, and pulled at his blazer to get his attention. They had a discussion with wide eyes and ragged whispers for about five minutes before Mr. Choi raised his hands in defeat. That’s when Emma noticed that he forwent the rings he usually donned, one simple band on his left ring finger catching the light in the room.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.” Ms. (last name) said after a few moments of awkward silence.

Emma’s eyes widened to the size of saucers once she realized that they were admitting to her declarations.

“You guys really are married?” She carefully asked.

“Yes, yes we are. We recently tied the knot during the break.” Mr. Choi answers, stifling his laughter once he sees confusion slide across his student’s face.

“What does tying a knot have to do with your marriage?” Emma confusingly questioned.

“It’s an expression. One of the many ways of saying you got married without actually saying it.” Ms. (last name) replies, pinching her husband for laughing.

“Oh.” Is all Emma said in response.

The adults studied her face for any odd reactions from Emma Kang, who started to have another mental battle with herself.

“We actually wanted to tell you and the other kids about it later on.” Mr. Choi supplies helplessly.

That didn’t seem to work though, as Emma continued to just … blankly stare at them.

“Are you upset, Emma Kang?” Ms. (last name) asked after almost three minutes of heavy silence.

Then Emma blinks a few times, looking up at them with something close to joy swimming in her eyes. Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) let out the breath they didn’t even know they were holding.

“Upset? This is the best news I’ve gotten all school year. Why would I be upset when the two nicest people in the world are married?” Emma exclaims.

“I thought you’d be upset that we didn’t say anything.” Mr. Choi replied.

“I thought you had a crush on Mr. Choi, to be honest.” Ms. (last name) replied at the same time.

“I’m nine.” Emma deadpanned.

“When I was nine, I had a crush on my music teacher. I don’t see how that excuse is relevant.” Ms. (last name) said.

“(First name) you were just an odd kid.” Mr. Choi followed up.

Emma chuckled when she saw Ms. (last name) hit Mr. Choi on the arm for his comment.

“You who was crushing over Sam from ‘Danny Phantom’ at that exact age, puh-lease.” Ms. (last name) accused.

“At least she and I were closer in age than you and your old shriveled up music teacher.” Mr. Choi responded.

“Sam isn’t even real.” Ms. (last name) said.

“Neither was your chance with that wrinkly old music teacher.” Mr. Choi replied.

“He was 25 oh my goodness Jiung, stop calling him old.” Ms. (last name) exclaimed.

“Even worse.” Mr. Choi replied.

The adults stopped their playful banter when they heard Emma cracking up from her seat.

“You guys are the sweetest.” She replied once she stopped laughing, shocked at the fond looks that stretched their smiles wide at her.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The rainy day ended up with Emma harboring their secret for them, a lot of movies, and a kid crashing from a sugar rush after sneakily eating too much candy.

Later that semester, the teachers decided to tell their class separately about their marriage, which breaks another spout of gossip between Emma, Shelby and Tommy. The news spread through More Than Words Elementary like wildfire that day.

Questions were thrown at the couple for weeks to come after that, and a new quest (bet) was formed between the kid trio. Guessing when they’d have their first kid.

Emma now helped the kind teachers set up for movie days whenever it rained, and a new constant had been added to Emma’s long list of things she loved. Her parents (and brother), trucks, Ms. Lim’s bakery, the burger place, Ms. (last name) and Mr. Choi from Class 2A. That was her list of constants.

#kainuhsblog😵‍💫#kpop fanfiction #p1harmony #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony x you #p1harmony x y/n #p1h jiung #p1harmony fanfic #piwon fanfic #piwon x reader #p1harmony jiung #jiung x reader #jiung p1harmony #piwon fluff #p1harmony imagines #choi jiung #kpop x reader

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tinfoil-jones · 2 days ago

Text

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 2

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

Prev - Next

CH.2

"Don’t get me wrong, I stand in solidarity with all assortments of criminals, felons, and anyone who sticks it to the man, but damn do I hate being the man who gets stuck."

"This is for your own good."

"You're not the first kidnapper to tell me that.”

“...We’ll touch on that later. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been kidnapped by some delusional maniac.”

“...I meant physically. How are you handling your stitches?”

“They’re slightly better than the last set of shady back alley stitches I got. I thought you said you weren’t a medical doctor?”

“My fields of study are wide and varied, of course I’ve covered some basic medical topics.”

*Ford tosses a book titled ‘Battlefield Medicine and Emergency Blood Transfusions For Dummies’ into a drawer and closes it*

“Where are we, anyways?”

“We’re still in Gravity Falls, but in my research facility in the woods; right now we’re in my below-ground level lab. You’re in one of the containment cells I use for cryptids, monsters, and anomalies.”

“So, what, you're some kinda mad scientist? Are you gonna do some depraved experiments on me?”

“No, you’re staying there until you heal, and you admit you’re lying.”

“Lying about what, specifically? It’s a long list.”

“Lying about not knowing who I am. You’re only doing this so you can pretend you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That does sound like something I’d do. Did I sell you something that blew up or gave you a rash?”

“What-? No! You know what you did. Stop playing this ‘Not what he seems’ card, Stanley-.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“It’s your name.”

“Is it?”

“...What do you think your name is?”

“Stan.”

“And...?”

“And what?”

“Your surname. What's your surname?”

“Malone.”

“That’s your fake name this time? Stanley Malone?”

“Just Stan. I guess Stan might be short for Stanley? I don't think too hard about it.”

“It is short for Stanley. It can only be short for Stanley or Stanford and the latters already taken.”

“My ex used to joke around that my name must be Staniel... Heh, Rick you asshole.”

“Malone- Mr. Mystery, or whatever fake identity you’re using this time, it isn’t going to work on me. You’re a liar, Stanley Pines. And you’re staying in that cell until you admit it.”

“Ok, I’m a liar. Now let me out.”

“...No.”

---

“Last year Ma tried to call me and update me on whatever antics you were pulling at the time. I always hung up before she could try to get me invested. Is that what this is about? Are you angry I didn’t bail you out of whatever trouble you were in?”

“Last year’s a blur, PhD. But there’s nothing I did that a second mad scientist could have possibly helped me with.”

“I’m not a- second?”

“Sure you’re not a mad scientist, sure. You just have an evil basement sub-lab in the middle of some creepy woods. And you conveniently already had a prison cell with a one-way forcefield ready. And there’s a jar with eyeballs in it on your counter. A normal, sane scientist has all of these things.”

“Don’t patronize me, Stanley. I told you my specialty is anomalies. Of course I’d have a containment unit for anything human sized or greater.”

“And would a not-mad scientist miss their brother so much they go around knocking out and kidnapping the first person who looks like him?”

“I did not miss you-.”

“What happened to him, anyways? Did he die or something and this is how you choose to cope?”

“That- that isn’t funny Stanley!”

“And you’re a barrel of laughs yourself.”

*Ford gets up and approaches the cell, before reaching into his trench coat and pulling something out to show him*

“I don’t hate you, if that’s why you’re pulling this stunt. I still have this. I’m still mad, I haven’t forgiven you, but I never hated you.”

“Gee that’d be such a nice sentiment if I knew what the hell you’re talking about, and what that picture’s supposed to be.”

“It’s us when we were children.”

“Huh. Guess you do have an identical twin.”

“And that boat is the Stan O’War, we found it as boys and tried to fix it up. You always talked about sailing the world one day, and dragging me with you.”

“No thanks. I hate the ocean.”

“... What?”

“The ocean creeps me out, Doc. Really, any big enough body of water. They swallow you up, and you disappear. I wouldn’t sail the ocean, and I wouldn’t take some maniac like you with me.”

“... You’re not lying.”

“About not liking the ocean, or you being crazy as fuck? Because both are 100% no bullsh-”

“You… Truly don’t remember, you’ve lost your memory. Stanley, you have amnesia.”

To be continued...

#gravity falls #early amnesia au #he did it guys he said the title #mystery trio #ford finally tells his brother that he doesn't hate him but its all for nothing #ford isn't beating the mad scientist allegations anytime soon #Stan calling Ford anything but his name #fanfiction #fanfic #cross posted on ao3 #stanford pines #ford pines #stanley pines #stan pines #mullet stan #implied past stanchez

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chisubi · 1 day ago

Text

a recollection of bellflowers — h. rindō

content. fem!reader, slice of life, implied／referenced infidelity (not by you or rindō), non-linear

word count. 7.4k

note. this is something i’ve been working on for a while because i have no idea how to write rindō . . . >< i wanted this to have a summery shōjo feel to it, so hopefully i was able to capture it well enough ?? (also, sorry, this is a little unedited.)

i had to force myself to finish this or else i would end up forgetting about it again ! there’s only three parts to this, however, updates will be sporadic :x

part one ／ from summer, 1999

Your fiancé has a lover in Tokyo.

He doesn’t tell you, you never ask, you just know — a woman’s intuition is never wrong. Something you learned from your dear mother.

Two nights ago, while you are both lying beside one another in bed, he complains that he has yet another business trip in Tokyo [his last one was just a few weeks ago], he asks if there is anything you would like him to buy — like that dessert you find yourself indulging in a little too much these days, a new novel to add to your collection of unread books that you swear you will get to them eventually, a new set of coffee mugs or a bouquet of your favourite flowers. You tell him, “No, it’s okay. I don’t need anything.”

He doesn’t press when you decline. Instead, he leans down to capture your lips with his before he leaves; the wind rushes by, chilling over the spot he had touched. His “I’ll miss you” never reaches you, carrying with it the ghosts of your past. His “I love you” completely passes you by. Ever-so-fleeting.

It’s been this way for a few months now. You don’t know when it first began, but the signs became more and more obvious as the days passed by. Rather than sadness or anger, you don’t really feel anything anymore. Only regret remains. Those memories and promises you both made together are beginning to fade. And what seems to make your heart shake is that you don’t know what to do, despite change and abandonment seemingly always following after you. Time and time again. Even after all these seasons, you are still lost.

When summer burns, or when fireworks spark up the midnight sky, you feel it on your tongue and skin as the same memories fill your mind once again. That summer night by the river’s edge. And summer nights following that — all of them are unforgettable, always leaving you feeling the bittersweet taste of citrus and honey drowning in the back of your throat. Too sweet, too sour.

No matter where you are in the world, a spirit of a little girl clinging onto the sandbox of an old playground remains in Roppongi. Abandoned, yet not once forgotten. Your flesh, blood, and bones will always be made up of Rindō and Ran from way back then. You hold these memories deep in your heart so preciously like a collection of little treasures as you continue to grow older.

A quarter before midnight, the moon is down and clouded by the fog; you take the train all the way to Roppongi. It’s strangely empty inside, you cannot see what lies outside. Tired and uneasy, the sound of the midnight train running across the tracks lulls you to sleep.

—

You are eleven when your mother drops you off at your grandfather’s house all the way in Roppongi during the summer; miles away from the countryside you grew up in. She doesn’t wait for your grandfather to open the door to come and greet you. She yells out how she will see you in a few weeks, the engine roars, and she is gone.

You have never met any grandparents before. Your mother doesn’t like to talk about them, so you never ask, not wanting to overstep the invisible line (she is scary when she is in a foul mood). You learn to be a good child because you want to see your mother smile again — she stopped smiling for months now, and you don’t know why. However, you believe she will feel better once she picks you up in a few days.

After all, adults need their rest as well (or something like that).

You soon also learn that your grandfather is a tall, scary man. A seemingly permanent scowl, a low and gruff voice that is only heard through a few words. A strong scent of alcohol lingers on the collar of his shirt – one you sometimes smell on your mother’s breath – he looks at you so emptily, then sighs. The chill in the air prickles against your exposed skin, you gulp.

No matter how silent of a man he is, you are a good daughter, so you introduce yourself to him and thank him for letting you stay with him — “I’ve always imagined meeting you, grandpa. I saw you in a picture before!”

These words seem to catch his attention. His tracks stop, he doesn’t look back, and all you can see is his wide back. You hear him mumble something beneath his breath, you don’t catch any of the words — you weren’t meant to. Something sticks out about your grandfather. Something you can’t help, but focus on is his missing a pinky. You try not to stare, and he doesn’t say anything when he catches your innocent, curious eyes. Rather, he doesn’t say anything at all to you and you can’t help but become overly sensitive to every draw of his breath.

You wish you were back home in that little countryside town, tucked far away from this bizarre place. You want your mother to come and pick you up.

You would rather be at home with her than here.

—

Surprisingly, you got more sleep than you expected last night. This is your first time sleeping in a bed that doesn’t belong to you; in a place that is so foreign to you.

And you guess it wasn’t so bad. The mattress is a lot softer than the one back at home.

Breakfast is simple and traditional. A bowl of steamed rice, fried mackerel with a side of nattō (you don't like the smell, but you try your best to swallow the beans without making any faces, and fail). The mackerel on your plate is neatly pulled apart, bones discarded, and you smile to yourself. Your grandfather is more attentive — kinder than he looks. Your teachers have always told you and your classmates to never judge someone based on their appearance.

“Um . . . Grandpa?” Silence is met with your call. However, you take that silence as a sign to continue speaking. “Can I, uh, may I go outside for a little bit?”

“There’s a park nearby,” he simply replies with a few words before directing his attention back onto the television.

Your eyes brighten. “Okay, thank you!”

Quickly shoving down your breakfast, you’re out the door and ready to play.

So, your grandfather isn’t the greatest at giving directions. After some twists and turns and walking back and forth, it is not too hard to find the park he vaguely described.

There's a group of kids playing on the playground, dangling off the monkey bars and sitting around. Too shy to approach, you shuffle over to the swing set, and rock yourself back and forth.

After some moments of swinging, and looking back at them to your feet, you hear a bunch of footsteps heading towards you.

You look up in anticipation and nervously smile at the group of boys in front you. Maybe they want to join you? [Hopefully.] “Um, hi! Did you want to—” Your words are immediately cut off as someone steps right in front of you.

“Get off.”

“H-huh?”

“H-huh?” A boy mocks with a high pitch tone and your cheeks heat up when you hear laughter surrounding you.

“Get off so we can play,” this one stands in front of you, hair short with a red cap in his hand. “You can hear properly, right?”

Someone says, “No, I don’t think she can.”

Another laughs.

The short-haired boy glares at you, hand reaching over and tugs on your hair — hard. You yelp as your hand immediately wraps around his wrist. “We told you to move, so move,” he harshly shouts and you flinch as your ear rings.

You don’t understand why they’re mad or why they are telling you to leave. This has never happened to you back at home before.

You yell at the boy to let go of you, pushing his arm away as hard as you can. However, this action only leads him to pull hard this time. You yelp. The group breaks out into snickers and grins.

Traitorously, your body betrays you as tears gather in the corner of your eyes. You don’t want to cry — you don’t like crying, never wanting anyone to see your tears. But you feel so helpless and lost and alone.

"Hey, wait, you're gonna make her cry. . .” Someone speaks up and for a second, you’re hopeful.

“I’m not even doing it hard. She’s just being a baby,” the short-haired boy scoffs before he accuses, “why do you care? You like her?”

His face flushes, and beneath the thick frames of his glasses, his widened eyes shake. “No way!”

“I bet you think she’s pretty.”

The boy gags as he takes great strides away from you. His arms cross over his chest as he yells, “Gross. Over my dead body.”

“Oh, is that so?”

It’s a voice that comes out of nowhere, causing you to jump. Colour drained from the faces in front of you; awfully, sickly pale.

And it comes fast all too fast — someone running in between you and the group of boys with a flying fist. Another one and another one. Colour falls from your cheeks mirroring the group and unlike them, you find yourself unable to move. To run away. You think you see a drop of red splattered on the concrete as you tightly shut your eyes, your body shakes and you cover your ears in an attempt to block the sound.

Someone cries. Screams, shoes smacking against the pavement, and laughter — one both loud and taunting. Then all of a sudden, everything goes silent. Hesitantly, you slowly open your eyes. Purple fills your entire vision. You jump at the sudden close proximity, you can feel their hair tickling your cheek as he leans in close to you.

There’s glass covering purple gems.

The boy asks, "Are you good?”

You slowly nod, “Thank you for, um . . . helping me?” You say this rather confusingly, unable to comprehend everything that had happened within minutes. You take a step back as you look around, you don’t see any of those boys from earlier. They vanished as if they were never here, the footprints made in the sandpit and droplets of blood remind you otherwise.

Your eyes fall towards his hands that punched those bullies — knuckles all red, you bite your lip to conceal your quivering lips. You turn to the taller boy with no visible cuts or bruises, only a smug grin on his face that matches with the one in front you, and you thank him as well. When you take a better look at him, you notice the two of them sort of look similar.

He looks down at you and waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Those guys were lame for ganging up on you. They always pick fights with people weaker than them.”

“Right, those idiots got what was coming for them,” the other boy adds with a laugh. “Are you not from around here?”

You shake your head.

“Thought so. Haven’t seen you around here before. So, what’s your name? I’m Rindō, and that’s my older brother, Ran,” the boy – Rindō – introduces.

You tell them your name and thank them once again.

“Uh-uh. Just tell us if they bother you again. We’ll deal with it,” says Ran.

You perk up, “You will?”

“Yeah, Roppongi belongs to the Haitani brothers.”

Roppongi belongs to the two boys who don’t seem older than you. Confused, you ask, “Are you guys protectors or something? Like heroes?”

Your words are met with snorts that evolve into laughter. Beside you, Rindō gives you a toothy grin as he readjusts his glasses. “I guess if that’s what you think, then sure.”

The heroes of Roppongi.

The sun is shining and his smile glows.

Meeting the Haitani brothers was probably nothing special, a similar story that could be told by countless people during their youth. However, to you, an eleven-year-old girl being picked on at the playground, helpless and tear-stained, they seemed like your heroes. So bright and blinding. A moment that changes your entire life.

—

Ran and Rindō have come to knock on the door to your grandfather’s house nearly everyday since then. When the old man opens it to see two unfamiliar children, he sighs before calling out your name (which makes your heart jump from your chest from how loud his voice can be). And you’re quick to slip on your old running shoes and bolt out the door.

Rindō tells you he found a cool place the other day, a hidden room at the back of an old shrine, and he wants to show it to you. Keeping up with the Haitanis is hard; chasing after them is even harder. Their legs aren’t that much longer than yours, but their strides are far too long, too fast.

Rindō is kind enough to slow down, only for a moment. “You’re too slow,” he complains before grabbing your hand and pulls you along to keep up with them. Without noticing, you don’t trip over your own feet anymore.

“Careful, Rindō,” Ran lowly warns as his hand reaches out and wraps around Rindō’s wrist, pulling him away from walking up the stone steps. The tall, red torii gate looms above. A crow lingers at the very top. “Don’t you know young children get spirited away here?”

“Huh? Spirited away? Like the movie?”

“No, no. Not the film, Rin,” Ran snickers at his brother’s words, you don’t understand what Ran finds so funny. And Rindō doesn’t seem to know either, but his face is red and he looks mad at Ran. “The legends. Haven’t you heard that the yōkai will come and snatch you up? They take away children who run off alone. They’ll come to get you, dummy.”

Rindō shakes his head, staring up at his brother with skeptical lavender eyes. “No way. You’re just trying to scare me again. I won’t fall for it anymore, nii-chan.”

“Nuh-uh, ‘m serious this time.” Ran says this so lightly, it sounds unconvincing.

Rindō's glare hardens as he crosses his arm. “Okay. Why are you such a liar these days?”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No—”

You block out their childish bickering — they always seem to do this. It’s always Ran who seems to start it. And through their yelling, an old memory flashes in your mind. Your head perks up in remembrance as you gasp.

This garners their attention because they both immediately stop their “argument” and turn to look at you.

“Wait, it is true! I heard that Tomoko-chan from the class next door visited the shrine last summer and she never returned . . .” you pitch in with the eerie rumour your classmates had whispered to each other last year — Tomoko-chan got taken away by a monster. Those words reach to the end of the long hallways and snuck into the wooden panels in the room. Kids at school don’t go anywhere alone now.

In the distance, a crow caws.

So, you learn something new: monsters also live in the city. They don’t only reside in the little town you grew up in. Monsters exist everywhere in the world.

The brothers send each other a look, one that you don’t understand, something only they know — only them. You watch as they communicate through stares alone before turning their attention back onto you.

“Really?”

Quickly nodding, you add, “Yup, it’s true. I swear. Everyone said so. She went to make a wish, and then disappeared. Her family isn’t even in town anymore.”

Ran lets out an exaggerated sigh. He crosses his arms with a half smile to his face. “See, I was looking out for you.”

“Right. Don’t you think you’ve been lying too much to me lately? At least, learn to make it believable.”

Ran laughs before quietly saying, “If you’re scared, just say so.”

The crow above the gate caws, careful, you glance up at the noise, to the long steps then to Ran, and then Rindō, who looks up at his brother clearly unimpressed.

Obviously, Rindō isn’t scared of ghosts, or yōkai, or monsters that eat children. He is already too old to believe in things like that. He protests and says this, despite you and Ran telling him otherwise, Rindō is skeptical. He says he still doesn’t believe you, he can’t believe you would make up a lie and follow Ran, and you tell him you would never lie to him or anybody. Only bad people lie.

However, the Haitani brothers are closer than anyone — they told you this when you first met, so it’s to no one’s surprise when they turn around and gang up on you instead. Because you are scared, or so Rindō insists. Ran says it’s okay because you are a girl and you’re just a baby compared to them. It’s true, you are scared of the yōkai who snatch away wandering children. You aren’t scared because of the reasons Ran says. It’s rather annoying how Ran calls you a baby for something like that.

(You don’t tell him that, though.)

The three of you don’t enter the shrine. They show you around the neighbourhood and some spots they like to hang out at, like an arcade and a newly opened ramen shop. The entire time, Ran holds both of your hands tightly, you are sure he is holding Rindō’s even tighter. Your shadows are overlapped, mixing together. The yōkai don’t come for them or you. You are safe together.

As the sun begins to set, you stop by a food stall, the old lady running it tells you that you look so pretty and you remind her of her granddaughter. She gives a discount — 100 yen for six pieces. Ran takes out the coin from his pocket and he divides the takoyaki between the three of you before heading home.

It’s quiet when you enter the house, nobody welcomes you home, but your grandfather sits in the living room watching television again. He spares you a glance, before turning his attention back to the t.v. Static and muffled voices fill the house.

—

A week turns into two, then three. Summer passes by quickly here in Roppongi. Everything moves so fast in the city, it’s exhilarating — overwhelming. Your little body struggles to keep up.

You run, run, and run the days away.

Again and again, you fall.

(Rindō and Ran pick you back up.)

“My mom abandoned me,” you tell Rindō one afternoon, weakly adding in, “. . . I think.” Hopefulness seeps through; a child’s innocence, your naïveté.

Underneath the big oak tree, Rindō turns to look at you while opening the blue ramune and gives it to you to drink first — he was supposed to buy two, but he forgot the rest of his change at home. He says it’s fine because he doesn’t mind sharing his drink with you. He shares drinks with Ran all the time. And you don’t mind it either.

“. . . She will,” he slowly replies, “maybe she is just busy working — adults are like that, y’know. What about your dad?”

Adults are like that, at least the ones you know. Your mom is probably busy, but either way, she lied to you and this is what hurts. You don’t try to hide your disappointment in her.

You shake your head, looking down at your swaying feet. “I don’t know.”

You really don’t know.

You don’t remember his face, eyes, and everything is blurred, but you recall his boxy smile and a heavy hand that ruffled your hair.

“I haven’t seen my dad before either. I don’t even think that guy knows I exist.”

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Are you lonely without him?”

He shakes his head, hair bouncing with every movement. “Nah, I have Ran. Even though he’s so annoying these days.”

The two [three] of you are similar in a way. It’s rather comforting knowing you aren’t the only one with a family like that.

Rindō vows to you that he will always be by your side so you aren’t alone anymore, because he has Ran, but you don’t have an older brother like Ran to stay with you.

He holds your hand — one so cold and sticky from the blue ramune. Again, he tells you that you still have him and Ran, because you are his best friend. Maybe he thinks you didn’t hear him the first time. His words are warm, so you don’t mind his cold fingers touching yours — it cools you down from the heat, even if the rest of your body is melting under the summer sun. Somehow, it always finds a way to peek through the little gaps, through the spaces between your fingers.

Together, you finish the ramune with lighter hearts.

At the end of summer, you are still at your grandfather’s house — your mother never comes to get you. That little, big, tiny feeling brewing in you all summer in Roppongi turned out to be right. But you aren’t alone.

Time flows quickly in Roppongi. Months pass by in a blink of an eye.

—

Coming home to the city where everything first began leaves your thoughts in a flurry; too jumbled and twisted. This house hasn’t changed one bit, walking into your old bedroom feels like a dream; both familiar and alien. A few of your old belongings still remain in place, you never have it in you to pack it up and bring them with you. Your mother hasn’t bothered to move them either.

Tonight, you help your mother make katsu curry. A staple in many households; also, the first dish you learned how to make.

You can feel your mother’s nerves as today is the day where you are officially meeting the man she is seeing (whom she had once mentioned as her new colleague over a year ago). He seemed like a normal, stand up man, but you can tell she likes him, so you don’t disapprove of him.

To calm her down (as well as your own excitement and nervousness), the two of you make small talk as you cook.

“Did you love him?”

You immediately stiffen, the knife stops just above the fresh carrots from your mother’s garden, and you don’t press down. She doesn’t say who, but you already know who she is referring to. Your heart aches without the mention of his name. A boy who isn’t your fiancé. Your soon-to-be husband. “Did you love that boy from back then?”

Your face shines in the knife, the glare of the light above makes your reflection disappear. You force yourself to focus, continuing to cutting the carrot into chunks. The sound of the knife hitting against the cutting board echoes in your ears. “Why are you mentioning that? Why are you curious about it now? It’s been too long since then.”

“I used to think you would end up marrying him in the future.”

The sentence has you turning around in surprise. You harshly swallow, forcing a short laugh. Your heart clogs your throat. Emotions twisting like ebbing waves. “You never even liked him,” your voice doesn’t sound less tense.

“Maybe I didn’t, but you did.” Her expression says nothing — no hatred, regret, or sadness; she is only looking at you so clearly — right through to your leaking heart. All you wish is to run and hide from that all-knowing gaze of hers, you wish you never turned around. “For some people, they are only capable of loving one person their entire life. There’s a saying that nobody forgets about their first loves and for those people, sometimes their first love lasts forever.”

Some people, she says. By this, she means you.

The ring that sits prettily on your finger feels too heavy, squeezing your finger.

“. . . That already ended so long ago,” softly, you say.

The doorbell rings, cutting through the tense atmosphere. There’s an exchange of looks — her expression soft as she offers a small smile of condolence.

The man – Mr. Hajime – arrives earlier than expected. You follow behind your mother as she opens the door and you see bright red roses before you see him. Your mother’s cheeks turn red as she bashfully smiles while accepting the bouquet.

He enters the home and when you meet his eyes, you smile and nod in acknowledgment. Mr. Hajime stops in front of you, pulling out a bouquet with a variety of flowers; of blues and whites.

“Thank you,” you say as he places the flowers in your hand.

His smile is awfully gentle. His eyes match that gentleness, too. An old, loving soul. “No, I should be the one thanking you. It’s nice to finally meet you. Your mother often talks about you.”

You smile as a reply.

You wish to know what she has said. And maybe you will ask him another time, you know you will. There’s no doubt you will be meeting him again and again.

Mr. Hajime moves with familiarity in the house as if he has been here many times before (you wouldn’t doubt if he has). He makes his way to the dining room as he turns on an old song on your grandfather’s beloved record player. You don’t know the title, but you remember hearing it play many times back when you were a kid. It sounds so nostalgic.

As the three of you eat dinner, a younger image of your mother and you eating in silence overlap, and the bittersweet feeling at how much your mother has grown begins to hit you. Despite her fading black hair and the grays that replace them, and the barely noticeable wrinkles around her eyes; the look in her eyes seems younger — happier.

You’ve never seen her like this before. Her heart races for her — her love for Mr. Hajime and the happiness he brings to her. You’re happy for her, you really are.

This street and this house bring back so many memories; memories of times that will never come again and new ones are being created. And even more in the future.

Nostalgia continues to devour you. Your heart is aching in many different ways.

—

A year passes by, you don’t hear from Rindō or Ran after a few weeks of sending letters back and forth, and occasional phone calls made on your house line when your mother works overtime on Saturday nights.

Ran had warned you beforehand that he doesn’t do handwritten letters or phone calls or emails [whatever that means], you think he may just not want to talk to you, and strangely, you don’t take much offence in it. Like Rindō has always said, Ran is Ran, he does things his own way. Plus, you had already assumed you would hear updates on Ran from Rindō, however your assumption turns out to be wrong.

Tons of calls and letters left unanswered. You send another one, your final letter to him.

2002 年 4月 22日

Hi Rindō,

I know it’s been a while since my last letter and I haven’t received one back from you either. I make sure to check the mailbox twice a week! I really will be upset if you don’t reply or call me this time for real.

The new year started recently and I’m being forced to join a club this time. Kaa-san is still busy with work, and she comes home exhausted, so I decided to join the culinary club. Coming home to a cooked meal is something everyone likes, right? I am not really confident in my cooking skills though. . .

I miss you and Ran a lot. It’s lonely here without you guys. I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I won’t forgive you if you did. Write to me soon, okay? I want to know what you have been up to.

And it’s no shocker when there’s no response to it.

Your initial bitterness eventually fades into nothing but nostalgia.

As the years go on, you forget all about the Haitani brothers and Roppongi. Their faces become more and more blurred with each passing month. You must’ve been erased from their memory — a little childhood memory too dazed to remember.

Junior high is harder than it seems — making friends doesn’t come easy, you spend the majority of your time alone. But ever since you joined the culinary club in your second year, everyone there is friendly and supportive, and things begin to change. School becomes a little more fun, and sometimes, you don’t mind waking up so early in the morning.

You find yourself trapped in the middle of a circle. All eyes on you. Ones full of anticipation.

And of course, this could only be one thing — gossiping. They talk about love stories, first kisses, and boys. Unfortunately, the target today is none other than you.

“No, I don’t have a crush on anyone," you firmly state. It’s the third time this week you've been asked this question, you don’t understand why everyone is so curious.

“Ehh, don’t lie!” Sachiko playfully nudges you with a giggle. Eyes piercing into yours, and you inaudibly sigh at her skepticism. You don’t budge when she continues to push and she pouts. “Fine, fine. What about Naoki-kun from the baseball team?”

A chorus of ‘Ahh’s’ and giggles erupt in the room. A telling sign of the boy’s popularity. Even someone like you, who doesn’t care much about boys [yet] knows about him. From what you heard, he spends most of his time practicing baseball and he only dated one girl during his first year for only a week. He’s more serious than he seems, yet he gets along with everyone, parents and teachers included.

He’s good-looking. You aren’t blind, you know this much, but you don’t think you like short hair so much — even if Naoki-kun’s short hair suits him quite well. Still, you end up timidly agreeing with your club members, wishing to get this over with. “Mhm, I think Naoki-kun is kinda cute . . .”

"Oh my gosh . . .”

“Ah, I knew it,” someone says. “I mean, most girls like him, so it’s obvious, right?"

You never said anything about liking Naoki-kun in a romantic way, you just said he was kinda cute (you guess). You just shrug and the topic moves onto how a student in the grade below you had caught the new teacher from class 2-b and the principal on a date. Your married principal. A classic love affair. The rumour echoes down the streets in the town, forever spiralling.

And in the early morning of May, 2003, your mother enters the house again and you think she may have forgotten something before heading off to work. Instead, she tosses a letter on the kitchen table. She says it’s for you. It’s plain. A white envelope with no decorations — you immediately know it’s not from one of your friends from school and your heart races in anticipation even before you grab it. You flip it over to see if it says who it’s from.

And it does. It’s a letter sent from Roppongi — a letter from Haitani Rindō.

Time slows and your heart beats loudly in your ears. The wind leading into summer suddenly doesn’t feel so slow; the morning birds chirp in tune of your heartbeat.

It was already the end of June, you blow out your candles. Another June goes by and you graduate from junior high.

—

You are sixteen when you meet Rindō and Ran again.

They surprise you at the train station, and when you see them, you don’t recognise them at all. It feels like you don’t know who they are. They’re suddenly a lot taller, more mature with matching tattoos and dyed hair that you don’t see people your age with — and to their defence, they have always had dyed hair back when you first met. There’s an intimidating air to them which draws you in. An edge you should look out for. One step and you will fall.

Your grandfather has also changed — barely, but you can see he looks a little smaller than you remember him to be. Older, too. There’s wrinkles around his eyes and mouth — ones due to his permanent frown. Yet his eyes feel warm, they soften when he looks at you.

Ran doesn’t really hang out nor talk to you anymore. During your trip there, he spends most days out and sometimes Rindō tags along with him, in which you stay at home with your grandfather or go shopping. And when you first caught them with bruises on their faces and torn skin on their knuckles, you cried. Catching them two and three more times didn’t make it any better.

You knew from first glance that Rindō and Ran are what people call delinquents, you aren’t blind when faced with the obvious. It feels strange seeing your childhood friends like this — the violence indulge in.

(You couldn’t believe it when you first learned the reason as to why you haven’t heard from Rindō in a long, long time. It’s still hard to believe, but when you see them like this, you can’t refuse it.)

It gradually builds into a routine, always finding yourself in the Haitani home while their mother is away at work. Forcing Rindō down onto his bed as you clumsily clean up his wounds, shaky, and unable to look away. Fretting over the way they’ve been hurt like a mother to her children (this is how their own mother probably feels coming home to be greeted by bruised faces). A burned cd of his favourite songs plays in the background. Quietly, because you’re both afraid of Ran waking up.

“Stop looking at me like that.” His tone is anything, but harsh. His sigh is heavy, yet soft. “You gotta stop worrying at this point. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

You immediately frown as you glare up at him. “I worry because you don’t.”

“You know it’s not as bad as it looks. Can barely feel a thing. You’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”

You quickly retort, “It is . . . Why do you keep saying that? Every time I see you, you are injured. That’s not normal.” Growing more frustrated at his lack of self-care, you softly glare at his tattered hand. You mumble, “What are you and your brother even up to?” More so to you, than to Rindō.

However, he hears you. He laughs, more rather airy than his usual boastful one. “Aren’t you too nice?”

“No, I’m not,” you mutter. “Something like this is normal.”

“I guess that means my world isn’t so normal. I don’t know anyone else like you.”

Those pretty amethyst eyes draw you in. You shake your head, replying, “You will meet others like me. Caring about someone who is hurt is nothing special. It’s . . . it’s human to do so.” You hold his hand carefully in yours, inspecting the cloth to make sure it’s securely wrapped. Thumb brushing over the fabric.

“There’s only you.”

The room falls silent. The track slowly fades into the next. Your heart races.

Rindō coughs into his sleeve. “Um, I meant that I only know you. The guys I know aren’t really like that at all.”

It may be your mind playing tricks on you. The way he looks and sounds — his every gesture feels too tender to be Rindō. It’s odd, not him. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you too because the look in Rindō’s eyes seems too gentle and intimate. You look away.

“You have Ran, who cares about you a lot,” you point out, eyes looking anywhere but at him.

He quietly chuckles, “Yeah. That’s just Ran though. You know how he is.”

You vaguely reply, “I guess so.”

“You know so.”

“Everyone knows so,” you softly add, “just take of yourself more. Please.”

You lift your eyes for a split second, and he meets you within it. Rindō softly smiles, “Okay. I will, so you won’t cry anymore.”

You can’t look at him for too long without feeling your face flush, it gets too hot, and the unfamiliar feeling of butterflies that invade your stomach, pooling, itching to explode whenever he smiles at you. He makes you so nervous and you don’t know how to react. You’ve never felt this type of nervousness with someone before.

“I don’t cry.”

“I sure hope you won’t.”

You don’t know how to act.

That night, once Ran awakens from his nap, the three of you decide to hang outside. Roppongi is not similar to the countryside in any shape or form and you’re no longer surprised to see the city awake during these late nights. This city is always brighter after midnight.

Rindō had run off to the nearest konbini for drinks due to him losing three rounds of rock-paper-scissors [really, who actually chooses rock], and you and Ran are squatting down by the riverbank with sparklers burning in your hands. Rindō will probably be annoyed that the two of you started without him the second he ran off, but it’s Ran fault if anything. He’s the one who made you grab the sparklers and lit them himself.

However, Rindō wouldn’t be surprised by this, because everyone knows how impatient Ran can be at times.

“Y’know, on summer nights like this, the main character and her love interest would light sparklers together—” Ran begins to say with his sparkler dangles above yours, burning so fast and bright, “—and they will become stuck together. It stays like that, and that is usually when something in their relationship changes. . . I saw it in a shōjo anime before.” He pulls the end of his sparkler before his and yours get the chance to become tangled, and smiles softly at you. Ran looks pretty — prettier than most celebrities you see on television and magazine covers. He’s probably popular with girls.

And you assume, Rindō, too. He’s definitely no less popular than his brother. This thought immediately makes everything feel sour, your smile falters and you look back down at the sparklers. A pile of ash building below. The flames are bright, rushing into your eyes and leaves your head dizzy.

It’s quite beautiful; the way sparks flicker and dimming ashes fall around you. Vanishing within moments it hits the ground.

“You learned that from a shōjo anime?”

He replies with a shrug. “I mean, yeah. It’s a popular trope these days. I know you girls are into those types of things. Quite romantic, hm?”

You nod and don’t try to hide your smile. You didn’t think Ran was into anime like that. You didn’t know he was a romantic type of guy.

“Don’t laugh,” Ran scoffs. “You’ve become quite rude, huh.”

“I’m not! I just thought it was cute,” you huff in defense.

“Uh-huh.”

He rolls his eyes in which you mockingly repeat back, and you both laugh.

So, Ran is a little different these days. He’s all grown, almost unrecognisably so. But he is still your friend — there is still the Ran you knew back then there inside of him. And you think, he and Rindō could probably say the same about you. Change is inevitable, it comes hand-in-hand with growing up.

“So, this is something you do with someone you love. . .” you mutter his words to yourself. “Why aren’t you doing it with someone you love—well, uh, have you?”

It’s silent. A croak of a frog, a call of a cicada. His answer lies in his silence and it’s sad to hear, because beneath everything, Ran is someone with lots of love to give. It’s unfortunate how he’s never once liked to wear his heart on his sleeve, hidden away deep in a metal cage. He is a nice guy, really. So sweet to Rindō — sometimes towards you.

Ran shakes his head, redirecting the conversation to you. Something he always seems to do. “Why aren’t you?”

You . . . ?

Attentive with the eyes of a hawk, Ran picks up on your confusion within seconds. He tells you not to mind his words which only makes you feel more lost — heart racing. You think Ran knows something, but you do not know what. The unknown is always terrifying and you want to know.

Ran wants an answer that you cannot provide. Beginning to feel warm underneath your thin clothes, you grow anxious under his heavy stare, yet can’t find it in yourself to look away.

His eyes drift for a second and light from the sparklers fall in. He looks back at you, then cocks his head in the opposite direction. Curious, you follow his line of sight — Rindō.

Immediately, you take this opportunity to run. You hand the remains of your incense stick to Ran as you jump up, dusting off the dirt and ash that may have gotten on your clothes. Running up the stone steps, meeting him halfway (you pay no mind to Ran who yells that you got dirt on him). Your shadows reach before your bodies do, overlapping underneath the flickering lamp post.

“Rindō! Why’d you take so long?” You ask while leaning in, folding your hands behind your back. His blond locks are messy and sticking to his forehead instead of styled in his usual fashion, red cheeks and his chest is raising up and down as he breathes. “Did’ya run here? You’re looking a little red . . .”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, visibly annoyed with a prominent scowl on his face. “This idiot in front of me was taking his sweet fuckin’ time,” he replies, his glasses shift down his nose bridge and you reach your hand up to fix it. However, before you can, he grabs your wrist (a sudden yet gentle gesture) completely stopping you.

You awkwardly mutter, “Um. Sorry . . . ?”

Rindō blinks before letting go of your hand, shaking his head. “Ah, no,” he clears his throat, “I got it. Thanks.”

Opening the plastic bag, he holds a bottle of ramune towards you. The little spot he touched burns, and it’s then when Rindō asks you what’s wrong because you had suddenly froze in your movements. “Did you want a different flavour? I think I saw a strawberry one left,” he offers, “or you can take my drink. It’s beer, though. You don’t drink, right?”

“No, no. I like it. I prefer the original one,” you decline as you take the drink from his hand. Fingers brushing against his cold ones. “Thanks, Rin.”

“I do, too. It’s my favourite.”

His favourite, yet he had replaced it for some cheap canned alcohol — he and Ran aren’t even old enough to drink, but you don’t really care, either. Things like that strangely suit them.

You bite your tongue when you almost reply, I know. However, you do respond with a brief, “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a necessity on summer days, y’know?”

You can’t help, but agree. “That’s why I like it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

And you wonder if Rindō remembers everything that happened the summer the both of you first met — you do. Those summer days spent underneath the shade side by side sharing melting popsicles and ramune, running around Roppongi and challenging each other at the arcade games. Aiding new cuts and bruises that appear on the brother’s bodies, Rindō would place a bandaid on your hands and knees every time you had fallen down trying to catch up to them, and whispering secrets only meant for the two of you to know [ones Ran comes to know, unsurprisingly]. You miss those summer days, and you don’t want to see the end of this one too.

Days with the Haitani brothers are unforgettable — so special, a feeling nothing can replace. Your hometown has never once felt like this.

Nobody has made you feel this way before.

You bring the ramune to your mouth, sweetness dissolves on your tongue, your lips tingle, and your heart burns and burns and burns.

—Bang!

A sudden sharp noise causes you to jump, droplets of your drink splash onto your thin shirt and down your chest. The culprit is none other than Rindō, who had bought firecrackers along with the drinks — setting it off a little too close to him and Ran, bursting right beneath their feet. Rindō laughs uproariously due to your surprised expression — so loud and clear, it cuts through the cicadas’ callings, passing cars, and the booming of firecrackers. His smile is like the warmth of summer; brighter than sparklers and the sea of little stars above. Your cheeks heat up, and all you can see is him.

At this moment, it’s two a.m. at the end of July when everything hits you like a huge tidal wave. Oh. You understand it now.

This feeling burns into you.

Everything feels like summer.

#tokyo revengers #rindou haitani #rindou haitani x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #haitani brothers

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