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writingjourney · 8 months ago

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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭

Your betrothal period feels entirely too long. You and Benedict make the most of the wait, especially once you spend your days together at Aubrey Hall. Or: Five times you and Benedict have to restrain yourselves before your wedding and one time you don’t.

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

content: 6.5k words, regency romance, secret meetings, stolen kisses, smut (morning sex, v fingering, p in v), 18+ MDNI

Masterpost – Ao3 Link

───── ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ─────

1 Closet

“Ben–”

“Shhhhh.”

His mouth closes around your nipple, breasts spilled over your stay that he tugged at desperately mere seconds ago. You tip your head back, fingers tangled in messy brown curls. His tongue draws a soft moan from your lips, the kind you could not hold back if you tried.

Benedict removes himself with a pop and looks up, innocent eyes over pink, kiss-swollen lips. “They are going to hear us!”

His scandalised tone is what lures the giggle from you.

Benedict, alarmed but no less amused, brings a hand up to seal your treacherous lips. “Shhhh!”

An incredulous smile spreads across his face and you tug at his lapels, intent on kissing it away. His weight has you pressed against the shelf behind you, the hard edge biting into your lower back. You moan into his mouth with the combined vigour of pleasure and pain.

Benedict breaks the kiss with some effort, brow furrowed in distress. “Do you want us to get caught?”

“It is too tight in here I rather think,” you bemoan and urge him to switch places with you. He has the height to his advantage. “Besides, we are already betrothed.”

“Betrothed, yes, but not wed.”

You ignore his complaint as you fix your state of undress, then wrap your arms around his neck to remedy the offending distance. A second of hesitation passes before he leans back in and resumes to bruise your lips. You wonder, sometimes, if the passion you share is of concerning strength.

As air becomes scarce he breaks away to attend to your exposed skin. His lips press to the round of your bosom, your clavicle, then softly venture forth to your sensitive neck. He lingers as long as he can get away with, then pauses by your ear. “How long have we been in here?”

“I should think a few more minutes will go unnoticed…” you whisper.

Benedict hums, the sound deep and warm against the shell of your ear. You rake your fingers through his hair and he bites your earlobe in turn. You are moderately concerned for your jewellery but then his nose tickles the inside of your ear. Another giggle escapes you as the tingle runs through your body and leaves you shivering in its wake.

Once again his hand moves to cover your mouth as his eyebrows rise in alarm. The warning look under his enviably long lashes is a sight you have grown rather fond of. The thrill of these stolen moments makes them all the more memorable, rare as they are.

You smile against his fingers before pressing an apologetic kiss to his palm. “I shall endeavour to be quiet from now on.”

His gaze softens with a twitch of his mouth. “One of these days Anthony will have my head…” he whispers before leaning in to kiss you yet again.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

2 Music

The music is unmistakably yours. The practiced tunes lure him from the sweltering heat of the gardens into the cooler corridors of Aubrey Hall where they arrived just yesterday morning. Anthony insisted on hosting the wedding here, of course, and how could Benedict not rejoice at finding himself under the same room as you at last?

He stops, leans against the frame of the open door to the drawing room and drinks you in. The piano is angled away from the open windows, your back turned to him. Bare skin shimmers in the sunlight, diffused by sheer white curtains that stream dreamily in the mild breeze. He follows the line of your shoulders where they rise and fall as your hands dance across the keys, then up the curve of your spine where your neck is exposed under pinned-up hair. The music seems to carry the ease with which you hold yourself.

He notes that your maid is not with you, a sign that the staff is kept busy with wedding preparations. Or perhaps you sent her away as you are prone to do, craving solitude – and opportunities to meet him. Benedict finds himself chasing these moments in which he gets to have you to himself like they’re his sanctuary, so precious that he has to pile them up with care like gemstones in the shrine of his love for you. One day soon he will be able to display them more openly. For now he has to grasp them as they appear.

You only hear him when his steps have reached so close that not even the rugs can muffle them anymore. A few weeks ago you might have been startled by him appearing out of nowhere but by now it is rather natural that he should find you when you are alone. It seems he has a sense for it.

When you look up he is already urging you to scoot over. The double piano bench is rather narrow but you think he might be closing in more than necessary. You’re acutely aware of the press of his thigh against yours.

“Do not let me disturb you, dearest,” he says in the dulcet tone you know means mischief.

“Is your goal not to disturb me, Mr Bridgerton?”

“My goal,” he whispers, leaning in conspiratorially, “is to be closer to the music.”

His breath on your neck does nothing to enhance your ability to focus. The first few notes are not quite rhythmic as a shiver runs through your limbs and down your fingertips. You soon find your footing, however, and the song comes to life in the form of a moderately slow but all the more magical sonata of your own composition. Sheet music is quite expensive and your collection rather limited. To add some variety you recently began to write your own, significantly inspired by Benedict and his artworks.

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself and you smile as you transition into a faster section of the song that reminds you of fairies frolicking in a meadow, drunk on honeydew and starlight.

However, you soon realise that he did not talk about the music. His hand dances along your back, fingertips drumming over your spine until they come to rest on the swell of your hip on the other side. It is the closest thing to an embrace, his arm a comforting support behind your back. His proximity, if thrilling, does not deter you. Your hands remember exactly what they must do – over a decade of tutoring has left its marks.

Your confidence is short-lived. His hair tickles your ear as he leans in, a soft press of his lips to your shoulder, devoted, sensuous and… lingering. Your fingers slip but for a moment. It is enough to draw the wrong tunes from the instrument, a cacophonous quake that has you wincing in surprise.

“You must stay focused,” Benedict warns, lips still warm on your skin, “or everyone shall hear that you are… rather distracted.”

“How fortunate that I am known for my stable countenance.”

“Hm, yes, that is what they say about you, my darling, “ he whispers. “If only they saw you as I do, falling apart at the mere idea of a kiss.”

You close your eyes and recollect yourself, trying desperately to ignore how he feels against you. Despite his warning he shows no signs of stopping, not even as you resume your play. The next kiss hits the crook of your neck. You feel his nose against your jaw as he inhales your scent, rose oil and soap. For a moment his warm exhale against your throat overshadows the fact that is fingers curl at your hip, a not so innocent squeeze that you feel somewhere between your legs.

You’re aware that both of your families are just outside in the gardens, that the open windows and the steady breeze carry your tunes far out on the premises. Muscle memory serves you and you finish the hardest part of the song without more than one or two off-key notes. Benedict has been silent, lips lingering just below your ear. Just as you move on to the conclusion his mouth gets more insistent, sucking gently at your delicate skin as he gets carried away.

”Benedict,“ you warn. Crooked tunes are one thing, a vivid red kiss mark another.

“Forgive me,” he whispers, pressing tiny kisses along your neck now. “I cannot help it.”

You finish the song with a relieved exhale, wondering if a musical number has ever felt so painfully long before. Benedict has lost his patience, it seems. His free hand comes to rest on your sternum as though he needs to feel the agitated rise and fall of your chest. You only have a moment to relish in the soft feel of his palm on your bosom before he curls his fingers over your jaw and forces your head to turn to him. His kiss is dizzying, starved. He tastes of the strawberries he must have had outside just earlier.

You allow him to kiss you breathless before you remove yourself. He tries to chase after you, as he is wont to do, but a finger on his swollen lips has him halting. His expression rivals that of Newton when he is in want of a treat.

“We must go back outside before they find us,” you say. “It is already suspicious enough that I played off-key the moment you stepped inside.”

“I blame you for being such a flawless musician.”

“I blame you for being such an irresistible distraction. Now come on, my darling, I am suddenly in want of some sweet strawberries.”

He sighs woefully and you cannot help but kiss the pout from his face.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

3 Painting

You see the corgi’s bottom disappear around the corner. The Viscountess runs after him to retrieve the pall mall ball he stole from the lawn, her mallet swinging from her side as the heated game between her, Anthony, Colin and some of your own relatives is interrupted. The laughter of little children accompanies your every step as you and Eloise take a turn about the house, exerting your legs for a stroll after the small luncheon you had earlier.

Perhaps mere intuition. You glance up to one of the windows upstairs just as it gets pushed open. The rolled up white sleeve and bare forearm disappear from view and you have to resort to using your parasol to hide the direction of your gaze as it lingers long after. A purposely given sign or mere coincidence, you are eager to find out.

“Excuse me, Eloise, I would like to… cool down inside for a moment,” you lie. “I am running quite hot in the sun.”

“Ah, yes, cool down,” she murmurs. “I am sure it is not at all because you cannot bear to spend even a minute without my insolent brother.”

She waves you off, her words mere teasing. You have no doubt she is rather glad to return to her books instead of parading around with you.

Thanks to the many diversions offered in the gardens you manage to slip back inside mostly unnoticed. Aubrey Hall, as grand as it is, is still more of a maze to you than a house and you wander around for longer than expected. A waste of your time with Benedict, certainly, but the manor more than makes up for it in beauty and family history at every turn.

When you reach the right corridor, you note that one of the doors stands ajar. With the window open you can feel the soft breeze carrying you towards the room, the mildly chemical smell of paint assuring you that you are correct.

Benedict is busy. He is seated on a wooden stool, wearing nothing but his ruffled white shirt, the collar open wide to reveal most of his chest, suspenders sitting somewhat tight on his shoulders as he moves his brush across the canvas like it’s his sole purpose in life. Your stomach warms at the sight.

Everything he does inspires love, the way he holds the brush, the way his face is scrunched up in concentration, lips slightly parted and tongue wetting the corners of his mouth. When he spots you by the door his expression morphs into the crooked smile that never fails to have your heart aflutter.

“Do not let me disturb you, dearest,” you echo and he cocks his head to the side.

“Is your goal not to disturb me, Mrs Bridgerton?”

“Not my name quite yet,” you correct. “Though I do rather like the sound of it.”

“Hm. So do I.”

He picks up more paint with his brush and you approach the easel, watching him work. The subject is a still life, for lack of better choices you assume. The fruit in the small basket has seen better days, though he omits the putrid details in his painting.

“I should have you sit for me,” he comments, noticing your doubtful gaze. “That way I might not get as much painting done but at least I would have something worthwhile to look at.”

“If we were to be left alone in a room for hours I doubt you would get any painting done.”

He chuckles, depositing some more of the red paint on the cheek of an apple. “Are they all distracted outside, then?”

“Mhm, your brother is busy ruining my family at pall mall,” you say. “He should give them a chance at winning or they might call off the engagement after all.”

“Are they quite ambitious?”

“Not as much as your brother and the Viscountess, I daresay.”

He sets his palette down to give you his undivided attention but before he can stand and seize control you’ve already wrapped your arms around his neck from behind. Without his waistcoat there is hardly a barrier between you now, the thin shirt allowing you to properly feel his shape underneath as you press against his back. Your lips find his cheek, your hands the opening of fabric at his shirt and you can’t help but pull at your gloves, desperate to feel his skin. The moment your warm palms connect with his chest the brush slips from his fingers, clattering to the floor.

“You must stay focus, remember?” you tease.

“What if I don’t want to?” he whispers, suddenly breathless.

“Then you can focus on me instead.”

He does. You crave more room so you slowly run your fingers up his suspenders and let them slip from his shoulders, one by one, until you can open his shirt even wider. You admire his bare torso, the freckles that litter his body like stars in a pale night sky, soft hair and even softer skin.

The kisses you press to his neck and shoulder are nothing short of reverent, the muse admiring the artist. Benedict gives you full access, one hand gently resting on your wrist and the other in his lap. Braver now, you run your thumb over his nipple and the deep moan he releases is nothing if not obscene. You smile to yourself, repeating the movement to which he reacts by letting his head fall back against your shoulder. His hand reaches for his knee in a tight grip.

“You are certain everyone is occupied outside?” he asks, voice strained.

“It seemed so,” you reply. “Though, if you keep making these noises, they will hear you through the open window and knowing your brother he will sense my presence up here.”

“Hm perhaps Anthony will challenge me to a duel if he finds us.”

“Don’t even joke about that. Besides, he would have to challenge me to a duel since I am currently dishonouring you.”

“And whatever would you duel in? Who can vex me more?”

“Do I vex you, dear?”

“You do, s-so much. Ah.”

“And how so?”

“Do you really have to ask, you little temptress? How am I expected to wait another week?”

His patience has run thin. Before you can react he has swivelled around. Two broad hands grab at your hips and he pulls you into his lap with a fluent turn of his upper body. The stool wobbles precariously under your combined weight but somehow, miraculously, Benedict manages to balance it out. His thumb feels wet when he swipes it over your cheekbone, drawing you in for a proper kiss.

Benedict has a tendency of getting carried away when you’re alone. You slow him down with a tug at his unruly hair. His tongue swipes across your lips and you allow him to lick against yours for but a moment. Somewhere in the back of your mind, prudence and common sense battle with the unhinged desire that his touch provokes at all times. You pull away with a regretful sigh.

“Do not think I am handling this any better than you,” you whisper.

His lust-filled expression has you doubting your own sanity. You are close to losing your composure at the way his lips curl in discontent when a childlike squeal outside reminds you that you are in fact not the only two people in the world. Benedict reluctantly eases his grip on you and you manage a safe distance.

“I shall let you get back to your painting,” you say. “I expect someone will be looking for me soon.”

“I will join you outside in a moment.”

You smile and make for the door before your senses leave you yet again. The corridor feels violently empty without his presence but you are not yet around the nearest corner when you are met with the broad frame of another Bridgerton. Anthony spots you with an expression that borders on disapproval but carries the same hint of perpetual fondness he cannot shake ever since marrying his wife.

“Has your… game ended, my lord?” you ask, trying to appear innocent.

“Hm, I see yours has as well. You should… wash your face.” He gestures to your cheek with a raised brow, brisk steps carrying him past you. “And I shall have a word with my dear brother.”

When you bring your fingers to your face you are met with the wet texture of undried oil paint, apple-red. You notice another stain by your hip soon after, fingerprint-shaped no less. Even though you will have to change into a different dress now you can’t bring yourself to regret your impromptu visit, not when Benedict’s taste still lingers on your lips. The shouting from the other room stays out so you assume his brother found mercy on him as well. No duel today after all.

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4 Picnic

The weather is most pleasant as you traverse the vivid green meadows with Benedict by your side, hand placed securely in the crook of his arm. It was decided that two days before the wedding the whole party would embark on a picnic to enjoy the outdoors. The chosen destination is a nearby lake and while the servants set up the location you are all taking an extensive walk across the countryside to see more of the surrounding lands of the Bridgerton’s ancestral home.

The walk is short in distance but with both of your family’s making the trip it is a rather time-consuming endeavour. Your relatives have decided to inspect every single tree and field on the way, complimenting the Viscount and his mother on the beautiful piece of land his family calls their home. The smaller children are meanwhile distracted by pebbles, sticks and the odd insect that crosses their path, particularly intrigued by the colourful butterflies that flutter excitedly over a plethora of blossoming weeds and flowers and refuse to be caught by their eager little hands.

You and Benedict use the time to focus on each other. You have fallen back just enough to speak freely and you count the amount of love-sick smiles you receive every time he lures a giggle from you. He is adorable when he’s with others, more adorable still when he is with you.

By the time you reach the lake you are at twelve smiles. The set-up is too lovely and serene, a shame to be disrupted by two dozen people swarming to it for refreshments. In the shade of high broadleafs and so close to the water the heat is much more bearable.

“Benedict, fetch your betrothed a lemonade, will you?”

You find Violet, as you are now allowed to call her, with her hand reaching for your gloved elbow. Benedict and her exchange looks that speak of their intimate knowledge of the other’s thoughts, his challenging and hers that of a mother who has to remind her son of his manners. You fight off a smile as he excuses himself. He never likes to leave you alone with his family.

“Will you sit with me, dear?” Violet asks. “It is rather difficult to catch either of you alone these days.”

“Forgive me, I know we are toying the line of propriety by spending so much time together already–”

“Oh, nonsense! I am sure neither Anthony nor your family mind. In fact we are rather excited to see you getting along so well.” She leads you to one of the blankets by the side of the picnic arrangements, littered with pillows of sky-blue embroidery that invite you to rest. “You must know that a love match is all I ever wanted for dear Benedict.”

You do your best to find a graceful sitting position on the uneven terrain, keeping your latest encounter with Anthony to yourself. “I daresay it is rare to find a love that is so genuine.”

She smiles at you, a motherly smile that is all the proof you need that you have long since been accepted into the family. “I am inclined to agree, my dear. It is rare indeed.”

For a moment you sit in comfortable silence as the breeze sweeps through the clearing, leafy-green canopy swaying and rustling to the rhythm of the cooling wind. You spot several ducks gliding across the lake, some more sitting in the gras by the shore. It is idyllic. If a life with Benedict means spending more time in this part of the country you know you will spend many a happy summer with him.

When you focus back on the party you notice your betrothed approaching the scene with a somewhat hesitant smile, still adorable in its crookedness. A reassuring look is exchanged and he slowly lowers himself to your level, hands occupied with refreshments.

“I shall take my leave,” Violet says. “I hear Daphne and sweet Augie require my presence.”

You are certain that they are alright on their own but you will not miss an opportunity to be alone with Benedict if she offers it so willingly. Once she is out of sight Benedict hands you the lemonade. The first sip is just what you need after the walk.

“And… since you are so fond of strawberries,” he says, “I secured you the last few before the children get their hands on them.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

He smiles genuinely now and you lean a bit closer. A comfortable silence settles between you, even though the party more than makes up for it in noise. The strawberries are sweet as they only come in June, picked ripe and fat with juice, staining your gloves red at your fingertips. You care not. Not when Benedict secured them for you, not when his eyes are fixed on your mouth with every bite you take as though he envies them every sinking of your teeth.

You offer him one but instead of taking it he leans in and presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, sucking the juice from your lips.

“Ben–” you warn.

“Shhh.”

Another kiss before he pulls away. You glance around nervously but everyone seems too occupied to notice. On the blanket you place your hand next to his and toy with the ring on his pinkie, hooking your finger in his bigger one. Benedict looks at the strawberry still in your hand, then back to your eyes, a honey-sweet smile gracing his lips.

“Perhaps I would like one after all,” he says, “now that I know how delicious they are.”

He is a tease but you lift the fruit anyway, holding it up to his mouth. He takes his time to take a bite, eyes intensely glued to yours. Perhaps you are too far gone to care, perhaps it’s the way he commands all of your attention with a mere look, but the world around you blurs into nothingness. It is unfair, you think, how every freckle and dimple you discover on his face makes him even more beautiful.

As he swallows you finally notice a few pairs of eyes on you. Heated cheeks have you sitting back, covering the worst with a press of the back of your hand. But before you can compromise yourself any further one of the children squeals in terror and the whole party shifts their focus to sweet Augie who has got too close to one of the ducks. The bird has spread its wings to run to safety, quacking in sudden irritation. The other ducks follow swiftly and soon the whole swarm flutters back to the lake in a whirlwind of feathers and chatter.

You use the distraction to grin at Benedict. His eyes are fixated on you as though the turmoil around you is of no significance to him, a soft, affectionate expression no doubt prompted by your flush. You dare to lean in once more, kissing the sweet strawberry juice form his lips. He looks down to your intertwined fingers, removing his in favour of fully grasping your hand.

You cannot bring yourself to care what it looks like to anyone else as you both let yourself fall back into the pillows, watching the fluffy white clouds travelling across the sky.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

5 Night

A sudden bang like thunder has you shooting bolt upright in bed. You are momentarily confused, the room not as familiar as your own quite yet. Bright moonlight, blue sheets, sheer curtains. Aubrey Hall.

It is the night before the wedding.

You can’t remember falling asleep, only the anxiety that kept you up all evening. Another, quieter bang and you realise that it is your door. Not a knock though. It sounds like someone is using their entire body to get it to open.

You think the whole house must have woken up but beside the ruckus at the entrance to your bedroom everything is eerily quiet. You’re entirely too trusting. Perhaps bringing a makeshift weapon would have been helpful but you approach the door in just your nightgown, barefoot, empty hands. Intruders would attempt to be quiet, would they not?

You are met with Benedict tumbling straight into you. His body is heavy with the lack of his own coordination to support it and you struggle to hold him upright. He recovers before you can fall, stemming a hand against the doorframe.

“Whatever are you doing here?” you yell-whisper, sleep still clinging to you in such a way that it seems absurd and almost dreamlike to find him in your room.

Benedict giggles. He does not laugh, he giggles. “I am here to see you, of course.”

His lull is evident and reality clicks into place. “I believe you are quite drunk!”

“I believe I am quite in love,” he corrects. “And is that not the same thing?”

Suddenly you feel very bare in your sheer, lace-trimmed nightgown with your hair undone and face still crusted with sleep. Benedict is hardly noticing your state, half-leaning on your shoulder, half-leaning in the doorframe. He smells of liquor and smoke.

“Where are you coming from?” you ask, trying to steady him with your hands. He is falling against you again, though you suppose he is doing it to be closer now and not for lack of balance.

“Spent the night with my bro‘ers,” he explains. “A ugh… tradition.”

“Getting drunk the night before our wedding? You are going to feel awful tomorrow!”

“I am not that drunk,” he argues, though his pupils appear wide in the relative darkness of the room. “Just enough to… calm the nerves. Now, do I get my goodnight kiss, pretty please?”

“You are too drunk for a kiss,” you argue, even though his exaggerated pout is rather convincing.

“I am not that drunk, love, I swear.”

“Too drunk to know that you should not be here. Have you lost your mind?”

Another pout, this time, unfairly so, combined with that pleading tone you can never resist. “I had to see you. Make sure you’re… still here.”

His words confuse you more than they enlighten you and you know that the noise combined with your talking might wake someone else any moment now. You cannot draw attention to the rather compromising position you find yourself in, no matter how soon the wedding takes place – if only to save face in front of your relatives.

He may not be too drunk to walk but his unsteadiness is concerning you enough to make an impromptu decision. “Let me take you to bed.”

He giggles again, clearly misunderstanding, and rubs his nose against your cheek. You stop, returning the clumsy embrace you find yourself in. He continues to nuzzle, inhaling deeply in a way that tickles your neck in all the sensitive spots and his hands wrap so tightly around you that he squeezes the very air from your lungs. Your heart swells. Being in his arms unties every tense knot in your body. It is the home you never knew you were missing.

“Oh Benedict,” you whisper, “whatever have you done to me?”

“To bed, hm?”

You gently push him off of you. “Yes, but not mine.”

He grunts but his complaints stay silent as you usher him back into the hallway. You can tell he is more coordinated now but when he uses you as his crutch you allow it anyway. To your dismay, you realise that it is going to take you forever to get to his room. His pace is sluggish, multiple times you have to shush him and he refuses to walk without touching you in some shape or form.

By the time you finally arrive at his bedroom, you are not sure if you’re sleepwalking or actually awake, the sudden rush of excitement upon waking up now slowly catching up with you. It is sheer luck that you enter without anyone taking notice. Benedict exhales a loud yawn that rivals the roar of a lion. You use the opportunity to undress him.

Perhaps it is for the greater good that you do not get further than his waistcoat. He rather suddenly drops himself onto his bed and drags you right with him. The impact has you tumbling across his body, landing in the soft sheets and pillows that are as yet untouched. Benedict pulls you close, eyes half-lidded and heavy. His hands roam your body but it is not sexual at all. He follows your curves as though it is the natural thing to do and with only your nightgown covering your skin his hands feel closer, warmer than ever. You raise a hand to brush back his curly hair, tracing the tired lines of his face, connecting each freckle like the stars in a constellation of your own making.

You think he must be falling asleep, lulled by your gentle caress, but then he suddenly furrows his brow. His eyes find yours as though he suddenly remembered something important.

“You won’t say no, will you?” he asks. “Leave me standing by the altar a fool?”

You smooth out the crease on his forehead. “Are you truly afraid that I would?”

“You must admit… this all rather feels like a dream.” His hand stops at the dip of your waist, resting in the natural valley underneath your ribcage. “A part of me is still waiting for the painful morning after when I wake up and realise that none of it was real.”

“It is real, so very real, Benedict.” You smile, reassuring him. “Though I daresay it is natural to be nervous the night before your wedding. Is this why you came to my room?”

He ignores you, fingers denting your flesh in insistence. “Tell me that you will say yes. Promise me.”

“Of course I will. I promise. There is nothing I want more than to marry you.”

He seems satisfied, eyes falling closed again. His lashes tickle his reddened cheeks. They feel hot underneath your thumb as you smooth it over his skin and you hope he won’t feel too exhausted tomorrow. Even now he is so very beautiful, so lovely, so yours.

“Don’t be scared, please,” you whisper, and then, because it feels right, “I love you.”

His eyes blink back open, the words, so explicit, a novum between the two of you. Your reward is the crooked smile you so adore and he presses his forehead to yours. “I love you.”

You decide that he earned his good night kiss now. It is soft, unexcited, but it lingers and he does his best to kiss back. You note a bitter hint to his taste but it does not bother you. When you break away Benedict is practically asleep and by the time you finally control your love-sick smile you can hear his quiet snores.

You slip from his bed on the empty side and bring your hands to your lips, touching them as though you just kissed him for the very first time. The way back to your room feels like a dream in itself. But you know, you are so perfectly sure, that you will wake up to the happiest day of your life.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

+1 Wed

Mornings start with a soft press of his lips to your shoulder.

No matter which position you find yourself waking up in, it is always the first thing you feel. The kiss is so soft that it tickles and you can never pretend that you are asleep for much longer. Benedict won’t let you because the first kiss is always followed by another and another and another. So many kisses that you can’t hold back your giggles, not when he reaches the ticklish spot by your ear.

You think it is the very reason he does it.

A heavy freckled arm wraps around your front, dragging you across the mattress until you are met with the solid chest of your husband. He is warm against your back, familiar, welcome.

Benedict hums, a hand closing around your breast and squeezing. His lips return to your neck but they are less soft now. If you do not pay attention you have to walk around with your silk scarf again. Paying attention, however, is hampered by his other hand sneaking down your belly and dipping between your legs.

“Good morning,” he whispers, “my beautiful wife.”

“Good morning,” you echo, still quite hazy with sleep.

The bright light streaming in through the curtained windows tells you it is rather late already. However, your eyes flutter closed the moment his fingers slide between your folds. He rubs you gently, waking up your body with the tingles of carefully built pleasure. You can feel his hips shifting forward as well, his cock growing hard against the small of your back, and suddenly getting up is the last thing on your mind.

By now you are customarily late for breakfast.

For the past few days he has done nothing but explore the previously unknown land that is your body, map out its hills and valleys and find the sweetest spots to linger. No matter how much information you thought you had clandestinely gathered, nothing truly prepared you for what it means to love someone, to lean into your passions so freely. But then perhaps Benedict makes it easy.

You gasp when his finger probes further down, slipping into you effortlessly. He adds a second digit soon after. Even so he remains unhurried, taking his time to gift you the sweetest strokes, the gradual build-up of warmth and desire you now know is the most rewarding. The rhythm of your bodies is slow like a dance to one of your ballads but soon your moans grow louder and you roll your hips into his hand with impatience. Your peak draws near and his other hand knowingly rolls your nipple between his fingers, lips pressed firmly to your neck. The touch is enough to take you to the release you so crave. You keen and shiver in his arms as it tears through you, one hand grasping at his biceps and the other buried in the sheets.

“Ben–” you whisper and he chuckles at your breathless voice.

It is evident that he enjoys showing you how good he can make you feel. That it pleases him to worship you whenever an opportunity arises. Mornings in bed are drawn-out, nights short and sleepless, slow hours during the day filled with spying for empty rooms and available surfaces. You wonder if you could extend your honeymoon indefinitely, to spend your days like this forever.

Benedict gives you a mere moment to breathe before his hand releases your breast and cradles your cheek instead. He gently turns your head, thumb pressed to the tender underside of your jaw, and then his lips descent with an impatient hunger. You bury your hand in his soft hair, one of your favourite things to do, and he groans when you tug at his strands. His body has become familiar to you as well, your own map of him ever-expanding.

Slow as your mornings begin, they quickly turn sensual and needy. His other hand grabs your thigh and opens you for him, spreading you apart. You can feel his cock hard against your wet cunt, an anticipatory whimper leaving your throat. Benedict slowly pushes into you, making sure to avoid any discomfort you might feel before he finds a more satisfying pace. Your limbs are still tangled in the sheets, every movement bringing forth a symphony of rustling of fabric and the rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin.

Kisses deepen, lips swell and your bodies move in practiced sync. You feel the warm tingles spreading into every corner of your insides, his softer moans and your higher ones drowning out the world around you until all you know is him. You are still tender and when you come the pleasure feels like liquid fire in your veins. You hiccup as he picks up his pace with you still tight around him, prolonging the sensation. Then he rather suddenly stills, smothering a deep moan with an uncoordinated kiss. You feel his release warm inside of you and smile.

As the world comes back into view, you begin to stroke his hair and lace your fingers with his. He laughs, satisfied, then kisses you again with less insistence. His arm once again wraps around your middle, pulling you close while his lips stay firmly planted on yours. His chest is damp and your own body feels hot as well. You’re grateful for cool sheets and silken pillows.

“I don’t think we should rise today,” you decide, eyeing the window.

“Mhm, I don’t think we should either.”

───── ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ─────

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, reblogs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlists || my Ao3 || Join my tag list

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut

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c0s-lettuce · 2 months ago

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wonder - sergei kravinoff x reader

gender not mentioned

synopsis: you and sergei have always had a friends-with-benefits sort of relationship. but it teeters on something more and more each time he sees you.

word count: 1026

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of violence, minimal swearing

a/n: aaron taylor-johnson, what a man. i think this is the fastest i've written a fic after watching the movie/show. hope you enjoy reading! <3

Sergei and his father have always had their differences. The patriarch would always prattle on about weakness and fear. It was exhausting and mostly certainly not something Sergei missed.

You were a weakness, though. Sergei was sure of this. He kept very few people in his life, and all were for good reason. You were the only exception. He ought to stay away from you, for your sake and his. But he could never bring himself to do so, no matter how hard he tried.

Initially, your relationship with Sergei was purely transactional. Your body for his, and he would be out of your hair soon after. It didn't take long for that to change. He knew he was beginning to grow attached, but he didn't care. He was sure the feeling was mutual.

You were like a balm for his soul, a remedy for the loneliness his line of work brought him. The only intimacy he had with other people was when he was driving sharp objects into the necks of his targets. His hunts were intense and chaotic, but they were something he knew well and was exceptionally good at.

Being intimate with you wasn't so different, except it was infinitely more beautiful. Sergei revelled in the way you trusted and desired him, in how you consumed each of his senses. And the way you fit against him made him wonder more than once whether the two of you were made for each other.

But there were days when he craved more than just your body. He would find himself longing for your gentle embrace and honeyed words. You offered him more affection than he deserved, more than whatever this casual arrangement called for. Yet you gave anyway, and he was all too eager to take.

He adored the feeling of your lips against his forehead and your fingers in his hair as he rested beside you, basking in the blissful state you would leave him in. He would rest his head on your chest, and your heartbeat would drown out the otherwise unbearable noises of your apartment building. And he would fall asleep in your arms.

Sergei was an enigma to you. When it came to his profession, both of you agreed that the less you knew, the better. It was strange, you thought. You were aware of his reputation. But he was so sweet with you, so vulnerable. Sometimes, it made you wonder what else he could be with you. It's then when you would stop your train of thought and join him in sleep.

He would always wake first. And as he looked upon your sleeping form, he would tell himself that now is the best time to leave. And he would at first, with no more than a lingering glance. But the glance lingered longer each time.

He immediately knew he made a mistake the day he decided to stay. There was a particular look in your eyes when you woke up and found him still next to you. Sergei couldn't quite place it. Was it relief? Amusement? Hope?

No, he wouldn't let himself think it was anything akin to love.

Either way, it was addictive. He vowed to never miss any opportunities to see it again.

But on this occasion, Sergei seeks you out after an especially gruelling hunt. He sleeps deeper and for longer than usual. A soft, high-pitched meow wakes him in the morning. He opens his eyes and sees that you're gone. The door is ajar, and your voice can be heard talking to someone on the phone. You sound irritated.

Sergei finally turns his attention to the small blob that has taken your spot in the bed. Sitting there is your cat, Suki, staring wide-eyed at him.

"Hello," he greets her, his voice rough as he readjusts to the waking world.

Suki meows again as if replying to him. Sergei cracks a small smile and props himself up on his elbow. He scoops Suki closer, and she happily snuggles up to him. He busies himself with giving her scratches and belly rubs as he waits for you.

You return to the bedroom soon enough, looking down at your phone with disdain. You sit down on the edge of the bed with your back facing Sergei, tapping away at the screen.

"Everything alright?" he asks you.

"Yeah," you say, "Just my work deciding to bother me on a Saturday morning."

"What do they want?"

"To remind me of deadlines. Don't worry, I'm very politely telling them to fuck off."

Sergei lets out a chuckle. "Alright, good."

Suki's purrs fill the silence as you finish typing your angry text message. You place your phone down with a huff and look over to see Sergei pampering your cat. The sight warms your heart.

"You know, she sits and stares at the front door for at least twenty minutes everytime you leave," you tell him.

Sergei looks up at you, amused. "Really?"

"Yeah, I think she loves you more than me," you reply.

Sergei laughs, looking back at Suki. "Is that right, киса? Do you love me?"

Again, she meows right on cue. You notice she's rather enthusiastic for a cat. Ignoring your daughter's betrayal, you lie back down beside Suki and her new dad. Your eyes fall closed, the comfort of sleep still tempting you.

"You got any plans for today?" Sergei asks after a moment.

"No," you answer, "Just hoping to relax."

He nods, but you don't see it. You also don't notice how he seems to be debating something with himself. After a few seconds, he makes up his mind.

"I'll make us breakfast then," Sergei says.

You open your eyes, surprised. He's never offered to do that before, let alone stayed long enough for you to offer it instead. When you turn to look at him, he's already getting up and heading to the door. Suki gets up after him, carelessly stepping over your stomach to follow him out of the bedroom.

As the pair disappear into the kitchen, you lie there in stunned silence, wondering what's gotten into Sergei. Though, you're definitely not complaining.

➸

#sergei kravinoff #sergei kravinoff x reader #kraven the hunter #kraven the hunter x reader #kraven #kraven x reader #kraven movie #marvel #marvel x reader #aaron taylor johnson #atj

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svetamillss · 12 days ago

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You are a teacher's pet🤍

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Kang Sae Byeok x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f), Cho Sang Woo x Reader(f)

Warnings: age difference, teacher-student relationship, character age can be changed.

A/N: I decided to experiment with this topic, so I apologize if you don't like this.

🤍🤍🤍

Cho Hyun Ju

You are 20 years old, Cho Hyun Ju is 30 years old

In the fourth year of the university, your group's curator changed. Now they are a gorgeous thirty-year-old woman named Cho Hyun Ju. She was a tall brunette in an elegant classic outfit, her face was not bright, but with cute makeup, her hair was straight to her shoulders.

You immediately fell in love with her and don’t stop looking at her. When she told everyone something, you hardly listened, all your attention was focused on the woman, and not on what she says about studying.

When you found out, thanks to rumors, that Cho Hyun Ju used to be a man and only recently ended the transition to a woman, you fell in love with her even more. After all, her strength of spirit has conquered you.

You couldn't stand it and decided to confess your feelings to the woman, so when all your classmates left and you were left alone with her, you told her everything. You were very nervous and afraid that she would tell everything to the rector, but it didn't happen. What happened surprised you the most. The woman accepted your feelings and said that she also liked you right away, but she was afraid of her feelings, because it is wrong for a student to meet a teacher, even if both are adults. Still, the difference of ten years can scare many people.

You decided to discuss everything over a cup of coffee. And decided that for now you will maintain friendly relations and get to know each other better, and as soon as you graduate from university (you need to be patient for less than a year), you will start dating and maybe go to Thailand together, where she always dreamed of.

Now the woman will help you with your studies, but not single you out so that others don't know. Also, while no one is around, she can kiss you on the cheeks or forehead. You are really looking forward to when your kisses will be much closer and more intimate.

Thanos (Su Bong)

You are 17 years old, Su Bong is 23 years old

He became your physical education teacher in the 11th grade. All the girls drooled on him (absolutely from different classes) because he was really a sexy and young teacher.

But he set his eyes on you. You understood this when the man began to praise you and compliment you for your success, and sometimes even gave you as an example.

Your classmates were angry and spread rumors that the teacher fell in love with you. And when the rumors reached him, he didn't keep silent. He confessed everything alone with you. And was already waiting for a complaint to the director that he was seducing an underage girl, but it didn't happen. You didn't tell, because you also started to fall in love with him.

You decided to meet in secret. Your closeness is only kisses and hugs, no sex!

He continues to compliment you in front of everyone that you are sometimes afraid that Su Bong will declassite you, but so far everything is fine.

When a man sees other guys flirting with you, he becomes very angry, but does not get into fights. He has a much better remedy. He will play back on them in physical education class, that the guys will leave a wet place.

- Fuck, how I'm waiting for you to graduate from this damn school to become officially mine. - he says all the time, when you in the women's locker room, he will only kiss you as if he's about to lose you forever.

But you are still afraid that they may find out about your relationship, then you two will come to the end, but so far everything is fine, right?

Kang Sae Byeok

You are 18 years old, she is 22 years old

She became your new English teacher. It so happened that you decided to connect your life with English, so the girl became your tutor.

Each other liked you right away. The girl was not very talkative, so she showed her feelings with her actions. She is always ready to help you, will always support you if something happened to you and you are afraid to tell it to others.

At one of your classes, you confessed to each other and kissed for the first time.

You started dating, but you did it secretly, although you were already 18 years old, but you didn't want unnecessary questions.

There was a lot of intimacy and romance, because you were able to melt the heart of this cold girl, but it's still difficult for her to talk about her love.

You both wait for you to graduate from school and enter the university, because then you will be able to move and live together and no longer hide your love.

- We have a month to be patient and then we can tell everyone that we love each other. - you said happily when you were lying in the arms of Sae Byeok at her house, she just smiled at your words and kissed you on the lips.

She was also really looking forward to this moment.

Nam Gyu

You are 20 years old, he is 25 years old

He was your philosophy teacher, although the subject seemed boring, this guy was positive.

You immediately fell in love with Nam Gyu and began to study his subject diligently so that he noticed you. And you managed to draw his attention, because a few months later he also fell in love with you. He is just afraid to confess, because despite the fact that you were in the last year of university, you two could have had problems.

That's why he was waiting for you to graduate from university, but in the meantime he only helped you in your studies and praised you for your efforts, he also liked to compliment you.

Your friends started joking, saying that Gyu fell in love with you, but you blushed and answered what they were coming up with.

When you graduated, he confessed to you at the prom and said that he would accept any answer, even a slap. But you kissed him on the lips, he was both very surprised and happy (of course no one saw you).

- Wait.. so you mean you love me too? - he asked when he interrupted the kiss.

- From the very beginning of the year, when I first saw you, so I studied hard so that you would notice me. I know it was dangerous, but I couldn't help myself. - you answered blushing.

When you announced your relationship, none of your friends were surprised, because they all knew for a long time.

Cho Sang Woo

You are 19 years old, he is 46 years old

You don't understand how it happened, you thought you were crazy, because falling in love with a man who was 30 years older and who your teacher of higher mathematics at the university, is just absurd. But this is your life.

You were even able to tell him about your feelings, although you understood that he would definitely tell everything to the rector and you would be punished, but he did not do it, instead he began to pay a lot of attention to you: he always turned to you at lectures, helped at tests and asked to stay for a while after his lesson to talk.

You chat about everything in the world, these were casual conversations, but you thought they were very intimate. You and Sang Woo never hugged or kissed, he could only hold you hand for a while, but it was enough for you, because you loved him.

But you had too much age difference, and you couldn't cope with it, that is, he couldn't.

The man transferred to another university which you didn't know. He didn't answer messages and calls, and you had no idea where he lived.

Only after a month of your calls and worries, he wrote you the last message, and then blocked you:

"I'm sorry I disappeared and didn't say anything. You're a good and smart girl, I like you, but I'm too old for you, you still have your whole life ahead of you and don't ruin it on someone like me. I decided to save our destinies from a mistake, so I left you. Forget me and don't look for me. Be happy."

You read this message a bunch of times in tears, but deep down you knew that he was right, he really saved you both.

🤍🤍🤍

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pretty-little-mind33 · 6 months ago

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Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend makes you feel unloved in some stupid misunderstanding he quickly remedies.

Prompt: angsty (happy ending) - "Oh shit are you crying ?"

~ hope you like this @xvi-1 ✨🤍 ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

You know your boyfriend is busy and that on his missions he isn't always able to pick up his phone, but it has been four days and you haven't heard a peep from him or his brother.

Work has been stressful and you're feeling incredibly alone. It makes it so much worse that he isn't picking up like he promised he would when you need him.

Tangerine is supposed to be home this evening, so saving hope he'll show up, you clean the entire apartment, cook his favorite meal, and even set some vanilla candles on the table, adjusting the roses.

The first indication that something is wrong is the slam of the door. You hear a disgruntled grunt as he throws his car keys on the counter and shrugs off his coat.

"Tangerine," you call, your heart skipping a beat as you pad into the entryway and walk over to hug him. He stops you, pulling his head away as his hand lands on your shoulder. You frown, seeing a bruise on his jaw.

"Hm, gotta clean up," he mutters stoically, walking by you without a second glance as he hands you his bloodied blazer. The gesture is so familiar and usually welcomed since you love taking care of him, but this time it stings. You stand there, frozen, as your thumb runs over the dried blood stain on his clothing and you hear Tangerine's hoarse curses as he cleans himself up in the bathroom.

You bite your lip, ignoring the pit forming in your stomach as you walk back into the kitchen and lay his blazer on the back of a chair, deciding to deal with that later. You don't want to burn the quiche you've made him.

When you hear his footsteps, you force a smile and turn around, holding the quiche. Tangerine is rubbing his shoulder, his chemise bunched up on his elbow. His bruises and cuts look slightly better but his frown hasn't disappeared.

"Lemon and I stopped to eat," he says casually, pulling out a chair as he rests his forehead in his hands. Your stomach sinks. He hadn't even noticed the candles or the time you'd put into the quiche.

You try hard not to cry, knowing he's most likely had a shitty week and needs his space. Only your week has also been shitty and now the stupid oven mitts you're wearing can't hold the heat from the springform pan and it burns your hand, causing you to shriek as you drop the quiche onto the ground.

This causes your tears to fall as your boyfriend simultaneously stands up and crouches next to you, catching your wrists as you reach for the pan. "Hey," he tuts, looking down at the mess of food and broken ceramic. He looks up at you, finally seeing you for the first time since he's come home and guilt washes over him.

"Shit, luv, are you crying?" Tangerine sees the way your shoulders shake even as you incline your head down and away from him.

"Hey," he tries again, his voice a whisper this time, as he moves you away from the burning food and sits on the floor with you sitting defeated in between his legs. He looks concerned when you catch his gaze and that only makes you feel even more awful because he really does look like shit.

You hold your hand up at the same time he does and skim the bruise on his cheekbone. Tangerine winces and uses his hand to push some hair out of your eyes. He looks at the now ruined quiche. "Cheese and onion," he deduces from the smell and looks at you again, his chest tightening. "Ya made this for me, didn't ya?"

You nod, sniffing, as tears continue to silently fall down your cheeks.

"Sweetheart," he whispers and wipes the tears with his thumb. "I'm a prick."

You nod again and your word comes out jumbled. "I tried calling you," you say.

Tangerine huffs at this and lifts himself a little as he reaches for what you assume is his phone in the back pocket of his trousers. You watch curiously as he holds it up and you immediately see why he didn't answer your call.

A bullet is stuck inside his screen. "Some areshole shot my phone," he deadpans as he slides his now useless phone across the floorboards.

"You could have used Lemon's phone to text me," you say, not letting him off the hook so easily, "I needed you."

Tangerine's cheeks lose a little color and his eyes widen. "You did?"

You nod for the third time, succumbing to your emotions as you bury your face in his chest and hold in more tears. "I know it's nothing compared to you and your missions and—" You start to break down, unable to hold anything in as your eyes become watery again. "I- I just had a shitty week at work and I missed you so much. I needed to hear your voice," you admit.

Tangerine's heart, if it hadn't already shattered, does now. He makes a cooing sound and pulls you into him, stroking his hand over your head as he holds you to his chest. "Oh, my sweet girl," he says and kisses your head. "M such a fuckin' prick," he repeats and begins to pepper kisses across your face to help dry your tears.

"Just because I have my own problems, doesn't make your problems any less problems, ya understand me?"

You pull away and sniff. Tangerine holds your cheeks. He looks around the room and then at the table. "Ya made everything look so nice and clean, darlin' and I ignored it. I'm sorry. How can I make it up to you?" he asks.

You shrug, still quiet as you begin to play with his fingers in your lap.

Tangerine hums and kisses your lips tenderly. "C'mon, let's go eat something," he says.

You frown and look up. "But you said you and Lem already ate—plus, the quiche is ruined."

"I know all that, but c'mon," he stands and helps you up. "Call in your favorite restaurant while I clean this up and then we'll go pick up the food together, okay? Ya can tell me all about your shitty week." Tangerine smiles and runs one hand over his face, his other in yours. He sees the look on your face and understands instantly.

He sighs. He never likes to bring his work home, but pushing those feelings away had made him act like he did tonight and he doesn't want that.

"And I'll tell you about mine," he adds softly, his chest warming at the small smile that tugs at your lips.

tags: @tansgirlfriend, @brokeaesthetic, @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @longlivedelusion, @thewinterv

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sanjisleggy · 2 months ago

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to deserve perfection (red-haired shanks x fem!reader)

req: Could you do a Shanks x reader (fem or gn) hurt comfort where Shanks gets really insecure about having only one arm. Maybe like during a fight they fall and another crew member catches you or like during a party or something she dances with one of their crewmates and Shanks gets sad and insecure he can't fold her like that

a/n: my first request YIPPEE :D tysm for requesting anon it means a lot :’D also i’m not super familiar with Shanks’ crew so i’m basing my knowledge of them and the general crew dynamics on OPLA and other fics i’ve read :3c

contents: fem!reader, unexplicit mentions of chronic pain and drowning, insecurity, angst to fluff, hurt/reverse comfort

wc. 2.3k

Shanks is often of the opinion that if any one person in the world is deserving of nothing less than perfection, it would have to be you.

you, the beloved botanist and assistant doctor of the Red Hair Pirates.

you, one of the few people he’s ever known to able to balance logic and empathy flawlessly. it’s a skill he finds quite lacking in the world in general, which makes your presence in the crew all the more valued.

you, the one he watched grow from timid young girl to confident woman just as he, himself, grew from a playful young boy to a man worthy of your seemingly endless love—or at least he hopes.

Shanks has never thought of himself as a perfect man—far from it actually. but now, only a little over a year since he lost his arm saving Luffy, he feels the most imperfect he’s ever felt.

ii.

he fears he’s a burden.

but Shanks keeps his worries to himself, opting to simply smile softly in gratitude whenever your eyes flicker over his face as your hands gently rub the special ointment over his stump. he didn’t even ask for your help tonight, as usual you simply read him like a book and ushered him over to your bed, bottle of the homemade remedy at the ready.

as much as he feels unworthy of your time and effort, he can’t help the light fluttering feeling in his chest, especially when your fingers travel up past his shoulder blade toward the back of his neck. you play with the ends of his hair before pulling him down to close the gap between your mouths.

“feeling better?” you ask after pulling away. you can’t help but chuckle when his lips chase after yours for a moment before opting to simply pout pitifully when you stop him by pressing your fingers to his bottom lip.

”i always feel better with you.” Shanks doesn’t quite answer the question but you accept it anyway. you trust he’d tell you the truth if your medicine truly stopped being effective; just as you trust him to lean on you in times of need, whether it be physical or emotional.

you’ll learn in the near future, however, that trust of such a nature can be easily shattered even from the purest of intentions.

iii.

the longing look in his captain’s eyes as he watches you dance with the locals is not lost on Shanks’ first mate. while the rest of the crewmates cheer and clap, all now inebriated to a certain degree as always, Benn Beckman walks over and takes a seat beside him as inconspicuously as possible.

”y’know you still have your legs, right?” the ever-easygoing captain can’t help but laugh out loud in response.

”straight to the point, huh?” he replies before taking another gulp of beer.

”i’ve known you both long enough to know she’d love to dance with you.”

“i know.”

i just don’t want to embarrass her.

the conversation dies for a few minutes as the two men sip at their drinks, eyes glued to the festivities taking place under the starry night sky. the massive bonfire illuminates your face in a way that accentuates your wide, carefree smile and your crescent-shaped eyes.

Shanks watches as you clumsily imitate the traditional dance moves, cheered on and encouraged by men, women and children alike as they take turns holding your hands and spinning you around. Even though a relaxed smile is plastered on his face, he can’t help but feel a soreness grow in his chest at the sight of you being twirled and dipped by the handsome male warriors of the village.

”are you sure we won’t get caught?” you whispered, though your willingness to follow and excited smile stretching across your face screamed that you didn’t care about getting caught at all.

”of course we won’t, just be quiet.” Shanks carefully pushed open the door leading to the front deck.

when the coast seemed clear enough he led you over to the centre of the deck of Roger’s ship before dramatically bowing and offering his hand.

”may i have this dance, milady?” you could only let out a muffled laugh as you placed your hand in his, a silent acceptance. he wrapped his other arm around your middle and started to sway to an imaginary tune.

neither of you knew how to actually dance, especially not like how the rich folk do in their fancy ballrooms. but earlier that day he’d asked what you wanted for your birthday and you said the first thing on your mind: to dance with him under the stars.

thus he made your dream come true, even if it did end with sore toes and sweaty skin.

“it’s not like you to just sit back and watch.” Beckman breaks the silence between them, yanking Shanks out of his memories. the first mate gestures to what essentially looks like a queue of men and women waiting their turn to dance with you. a bitterness emerges in the back of his throat at the sight.

both of the men know that on any other day, Shanks would’ve long intervened to steal you away for himself. reclaim his treasure, is how he used to describe it.

”whatever it is,” his dear friend says with a hint of resignation in his voice as he stands up. “don’t let it fester. you both share something special, don’t let it go to waste.”

iv.

you can tell he blames himself. no one else on the crew does but you also know that it doesn’t matter to Shanks, not when a mistake involves your safety.

a scuffle with the marines was not on that day’s agenda; especially not one out in the open seas while the darkened clouds overhead poured mercilessly.

what started as an issue that could have been resolved in under and hour lasted nearly twice as long due to the unfortunate weather impairing everyone’s vision and movements. the deck was simply too slippery, the waves were too high, and the ambush was too sudden.

you struggle to remember much of what actually happened after you slipped and fell overboard. all you can really recall is clinging onto the deck’s edge for dear life, Shanks reaching out as he cried your name, your fingers slipping from his desperate grasp, and then a bone-chilling coldness overwhelming your entire being. you remember gasping for air only to ingest a mouthful of salty water.

then, you’d woken up in the infirmary.

now you find yourself standing outside your own locked bedroom door, knuckles sore from knocking for the past hour.

“Shanks, my love,” you plead, “let me in, won’t you? i just want to see you.” you try to keep your voice steady but it gets harder with each subsequent word. “please? don’t lock me out.”

first you nearly drowned and now the love of your life is refusing to let you into your own room? tired and confused, you blink away the hot tears pooling in your eyes as you breathe deeply and slowly in an attempt to soothe your aching heart.

after a few more minutes of waiting, your sadness twists itself into some mixture of confusion and indignant frustration. it’s not like Shanks to cut you off like this and you refuse to believe that a single incident is enough to ruin a lifetime spent by each other’s sides.

it takes five kicks to break the lock of your bedroom door and four steps to reach the bed where your beloved husband lays curled into himself. just the sight alone melts away your anger; and when he lets out a strained whine, you feel your heart sink as your body enters autopilot.

you swiftly grab a bottle of ointment from the bedside drawer before crawling on the bed towards Shanks’ back. gently, you pull the blanket off him and reach over his body to roll him into a better position. thankfully, he doesn’t resist.

”is this why you weren’t opening the door?” you ask softly as you sit him up to unbutton his shirt. “was it too sore?”

oh how easy it would be to say yes and just leave it at that and receive your unconditional, undeserved forgiveness for my selfishness.

but i can’t lie.

not to you.

”No,” he whispers, avoiding meeting your eyes with his own. you hum in response, focused more on gently rubbing the soothing ointment over his aching stump.

”then why?” you prod, though your tone remains soft and genuine. “why didn’t you want to let me in?” you scoot closer, your chest now brushing against his right shoulder as you reach around to apply more medicine. your other hand subconsciously rubs his back.

”you must’ve known i wanted nothing more than to sleep in my own bed and cuddle my own husband after being fished out of the sea,” you add on with a laugh that Shanks doesn’t reciprocate.

ah, gotcha.

”so this is about me falling into the ocean, hmm?” you redirect your ointment-coated hand to his chin before tilting his face over to lock your eyes onto his own. “everyone knows it was an accident.” you offer him a small smile as your hand on his back travels up to rub at his neck. “aside from the shock of it all, i’m totally fine.”

”i should’ve been able to pull you up,” Shanks finally chokes out, lunging forward to bury his face into your chest. “i shouldn’t have let you fall into the water to begin with. the waves were so rough, we could’ve easily lost you.” he wraps his arm around your waist, fingers gripping tightly onto the back of your shirt; as though you would disappear once again if he wasn’t holding on tightly enough.

”but you didn’t lose me,” you coo, feeling your own heart twist and ache as you return the hug, holding him as close to you as possible. “i’m still here. it’s okay, my love.”

”i was fucking useless,” he exhaled, shoulders beginning to tremble. “i couldn’t even be the one to dive in after you. i wouldn’t have been able to swim and pull you up at the same time.”

you feel your eyes burn with tears for the second time today as you listen to Shanks berate himself.

”i couldn’t hold onto you. i couldn’t keep you safe. i can’t even dance with you like how we used to.” for the first time in years, he was losing it and it terrifies you.

“stop! stop saying all that!” you can’t help but raise your voice as you pry his face away from your body, no longer allowing him to hide anymore. when he finally looks at you, you see that your teary eyes are mirrored on his handsome face. although he looks up at you silently, you feel his hand tremble from how hard he’s holding onto your clothing.

“you—” you struggle to find the words. how were you supposed to reassure the most amazing man you’ve ever met that his thoughts of self-loathing are unfounded?

”Shanks, you’re…” you feel a fresh wave of hot tears run down your face when you see how tired he looks. it’s as though these thoughts have been running in his mind for longer than you think, and it’s exhausting him.

“you’re perfect,” you finally say as you cup his face between your hands before leaning down to brush the tip of your nose against his. “you’re so perfect. i don’t care how many limbs you have or scars you collect. i’d love you all the same until the day i die.”

“you deserve more.” Shanks can’t help but say what’s been plaguing his mind for weeks. although the relief of letting it out feels good, he can’t help the tightness in his chest when he sees you frown.

”what more could i possibly deserve, you silly man?” you let out a choked laugh, rubbing your thumbs under his eyes to wipe away his tears, old and new. “i don’t think you realise how lucky i am to have had you for so long. i’ve been loving you since we were children, for crying out loud.” you pause to breathe. “and with all the beautiful women we meet at every new island we visit, who clearly want to take my place; sometimes i feel like it’s only a matter of time before they steal you away—”

you’re cut off by Shanks capturing your lips with his own. the hand that was previously crumpling your shirt now trailing up your body before stopping at your face. you lean into the warmth of his palm whilst keeping your lips on his, saliva mixing with salty tears.

“don’t be ridiculous,” he pants the words out the moment you pull away for air. “don’t ever say such a thing.”

”now you know how i felt when you said all those awful things about yourself.” you turn your head to press a kiss to his palm, smiling when you see how his cheeks flush redder than they already are. “but you shouldn’t hide these thoughts anymore, my silly boy. you need to talk to me so i can tell you how ridiculous you’re being.” your finger pokes his chest, drawing a warm chuckle from the love of your life as he smiles for the first time since you were pulled out of the ocean depths.

“i love you,” Shanks whispers, words muffling halfway when presses his lips to your forehead mid-sentence.

”love you, too.”

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x yn #one piece x you #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #imagine #fanfic #opla x reader #one piece live action x reader

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lexirosewrites · 30 days ago

Note

I sent in angst on accident but I'm here to deliver the fluff as well!

Eddie starts courting Steve completely subconsciously. He's always been the kind of Alpha who is determined to push back against prescribed gender roles, especially when it comes to the idea that an Alpha always has to be with an Omega and that Omega's should be courted and treated gently while Alpha's protect and take charge. It's been the subject of more than a few of his tabletop rants, especially when the prom and homecoming seasons come around.

One way or another he starts hanging around Steve more often. He's determined, though, not to fall for a pretty scent and a pretty face and become one of those Alphas obsessed with an Omega...even if that Omega is really nice, and pretty, and smells like fresh gingerbread, and has shiny hair and a dorky laugh and nice hands and-

The point is he's not doing it! He's not!

But really, Steve can be so easily distracted sometimes. It's safer, more convenient really, to herd him along when they're at the mall or walking down Main Street. He's just making sure Steve doesn't fall into the street or knock into one of the displays at the grocery store. He's just being a decent guy.

And Steve is always whiny when he's cold. He gets all pouty when he doesn't bring a warm enough jacket because it doesn't match his outfit. Eddie needs to give him his hoodie so he stops complaining.

And the little knick-knacks and bedding Eddie brings from time to time for the Omega are just a natural reaction to seeing Steve's room. The thing is truly an abomination of the highest order and when Steve told him his mom picked it all out and wouldn't let him buy anything new for it, well he's just doing the world at large a favor by trying to remedy that whole situation. It absolutely has nothing to do with the way Steve's scent went sour when he was talking about it and the way it made him want to eat drywall.

Steve knows what Eddie is doing the entire time. He thinks it's cute how down bad his Alpha is for him without even being able to acknowledge it and he knows that at the end of the day, he's going to get what he wants. A mating bite on his neck and a pup in his belly.

(I do think Steve will have to go to drastic measures to get Eddie's head out of his ass though. Namely, flirting with one of the Alpha's at the Hideout to make Eddie jealous enough to make a move)

they’re so cute😭💕

#slick sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #omegaverse #a/b/o #mpreg #cw mpreg #tw mpreg #my asks

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nanamiluvs · 11 months ago

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can't keep his arms off !

pairing : wriothesley x reader

rating : fluff, very slight angst

wc : 550

tags : reader has no gender, reader is implied to be smaller than wriothesley in size, wriothesley is very clingy, wriothesley is touch starved, established relationship, hugging, kisses, physical touch as a love language, non-sexual physical touch, slight wriothesley angst

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

wriothesley seems to have a problem with keeping his hands off of you.

you didn't know when it had turned into this. as your relationship with wriothesley progressed, he became more and more comfortable with casually touching you. light touches on the small of your back turning into back hugs with his face pressed against the crook of your neck.

and now you were starting to wonder if your boyfriend is simply a wet, needy puppy who's going to die if he's not touching you.

he wants to have you sat on his lap as he works through the boring documents of his work, one hand carelessly playing with your hair and nuzzling his face against yours whenever he wants to just throw all those papers away.

he wants to have you lay ontop of his body or his body on top of yours as you watch your favorite show on the tv. he doesn't really care what's on the screen, he just needs to crush you with his weight or act as your personal bed. he uses your chest as his pillow when he's on top of you, arms wrapped around you to hold you firm to himself- he may or may not fall asleep in the position. the thing is, he wants you to feel the same way with him, to feel safe enough with him that you can't help but doze off with your body curled on top of his.

he wants you to hug him as tightly as you possibly can when he has you on the back of his bike, speeding up when you loosen your grip so you cling to him again. he's grinning like a little boy when he feels you press against him, knowing you trust him to such an extent.

trust is what matters the most for wriothesley. he's scared of trusting other people, yet with you, it's different, and that's what scares him even more. he's so scared of the thought that you may not return his trust, or not even love him as he loves you, that he can't help but search for your touch as a reminder. a reminder that no, he's just overthinking, you're there, you're not leaving him. nothing can stop the flow of his thoughts like feeling you physically. his hands reach out to you after his darkest nightmares, and only then can wriothesley calm down.

his larger frame wraps around you when he comes home late, too stressed from work- his only remedy caged in his arms now. wriothesley knows how to lie and how others can lie, thus wonders of words leave a doubt in his mind. but when he finally has you secured in his embrace, how can that not be real? you allow him so close to you, so intimate, you trust him and it almost drives wriothesley to tears when he thinks about it. you're there, he knows you're there when your arms creep up his back to return his hug, slowly patting him. there is peace and tranquility in moments like these, moments in which wriothesley is a little clingy.

wriothesley knows, but he also knows that there is no place he would rather be.

#genshin wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wrio x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #gi x reader

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lalunanymph · 10 months ago

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𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎

in japanese culture, 'jizos' are small figurines dressed in red caps and bibs to honor the souls of babies who were never born

tw miscarriage, implied cheating, heavy angst, itoshi rin x fem!reader

The salty sea air stung his eyes, drawing to them a sheen of tears that threatened to spill out by the sight that greeted him.

Close to the shore, draped in a long trench coat and staring out into the horizon, the woman he loved stood with her back turned from him, shoulders hunched and eyes vacant.

After days of traversing this small town and asking around well-meaning shopkeepers and local experts, he had finally found the plum orchard belonging to her family. A few kilometres from the bountiful field was the seashore where she often spent time in the evenings to conclude a full day of plum-picking.

Rin stared at you, at your silhouette, raking his eyes up and down your figure like a starving man. There was a pit hollowing out in his rib cage, right underneath his heart where it used to beat valiantly—strongly—and now was nothing but an empty shell. He took one step forward, and stopped.

The beach was empty today, the winter season repulsing tourists from enjoying the crystalline waters. Vendors and tired mothers alike could not find solace from this harsh weather, and so they turned inward, away from the harsh cold. But, you could not be any different. You sought out the wind, the chill and the loneliness like an orphan chased away from home, tracking the clouds in the sky with sightless, forlorn eyes.

Rin watched as you sat down on a stone bench, drawing your knees to your chin. He thought you had never looked this small and fragile as you did now.

His feet took him towards you without him telling them to, an impulse he swore he had gotten rid of those months ago when you disappeared from his life and into anonymity. Every step forward felt like he was walking on glass, and he paused in jerky stops, wrestling with his trembling knees that ached to kneel before you in seeking forgiveness.

You heard someone approaching, and the sudden interruption to your usual peaceful days fractured into broken shards of icy realisation when you saw him standing a few feet away.

His mop of dark green hair with its too long bangs falling in his face, the pinch between his brow and the devastation in his hollow, teal eyes. He looked thinner than you remembered, shoulders hunched and cheekbones gaunt. The most telling of his suffering were his eyes—they were always filled with fiery passion and disdain for those he perceived as useless and weaker than him. Those teal pits were depleted of their rage, replaced by crestfallen despair that made you wish you never turned around in the first place.

Something fractured in you, razing down your composure for a few seconds to allow a show of fear flitting across your face. Rin walked towards you with his palms raised, a peace treaty for his declaration of conflict. He pleaded without words for you to stay put, even going so far as to approach you cautiously like you were a wounded animal.

Your breathing ran jagged, and a tremble overtook your hands. Rapidly, your eyes ticked towards the closest escape path, wondering how fast you could sprint to evade his touch—his presence—and hide away once more so he could never unearth you again. As if he could read your mind, Rin’s hoarse, low voice pierced through the blood rushing in your ears.

“Y/N, stop. Don’t run.”

You stood, rooted to the spot, breath tumbling out in frosty trembles. He stopped a few feet away from you, letting you gasp in the salty air that was not tainted by his familiar pine cologne and musk. Giving you some space to adapt to his presence.

Rin was a man who floundered with his words if it wasn’t steeped in threats or aggression. There was nothing he could do to remedy the sudden catch on his tongue, the lump in his throat that almost swallowed him whole. You were better at this than he was; better at speaking, at expressing yourself and your love. You were always a better person than he was.

He could not even offer you comfort because he forgot how it felt—how comfort tasted and moulded in between his embrace, forever lost to his blind touches ever since the day you disappeared from his life.

The wind started to pick up and bite your exposed wrists, and you wished you had brought some gloves to ward off the chill of his ocean deep eyes boring into yours.

Neither of you spoke for a time, the waves crashing to shore the only accompaniment to this lovelorn scene playing out between two people who were no longer lovers. You glanced at your boot-clad feet sinking in the soft sand, and turned your gaze out towards the horizon.

The wind played with the edges of your locks, and Rin fought the unreasonable urge to tuck them behind your ears, to not take your cheeks in his hands like he used to do a million times before.

“Y/N—”

“Why did you come here?” Your voice was feathered with exhaustion, echoing the dark circles underneath your eyes. “The paparazzi will catch you—your career will be on the line if you’re seen with me. You should go.”

You turned around to walk away and Rin didn’t know what was worse—that your first thought was to keep his reputation safe or that you assumed he hadn’t taken the consequences into consideration when he made this impossible move to find you. There were more dire concerns on the line besides his reputation; his probation with PXG hanging in thin air, the number of fouls piling up on his name, the amount of misses he had during last week’s training alone…

But, Rin disregarded them all. He buried them in the back of his mind as he took a train, then a plane and rented a car to drive himself to this little, far-flung town hundreds of miles away from Tokyo.

Just for a chance to see you.

And you had turned your back on him, thinking he was here by mistake.

He wasn’t.

Rin reached out to grab your wrist, not anticipating the choked cry you released. He cringed away like you had scalded him and noticed a second too late the silvery tracks running down your cheeks.

“Please,” your voice was hoarse, pitiful. “I already gave you everything. Everything, Rin. Please leave me alone.”

The tiny sniffles you expelled, the tears you dashed away and the completely miserable fracturing of your expression made him come to a hard pause.

Rin swallowed heavily, about to reach out for you again when you shrank back and shook your head. His lungs were filling up with water and his knees were weighted with lead when they sank into the sand, strong arms vining around your torso as he buried his face into your lower back. Desperately holding onto you so you wouldn’t wash away like his hopes and dreams—whispers of foolish wishes that would never come true: of the peaceful life he wanted to have with you, your beautiful face the first thing he would see every morning when he greeted the world, the adorable reflections of your children who would have his eyes and your smile…

“Don’t,” his pleas cracked under the weight of his muffled sobs. “Don’t go. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m… I’m so sorry, baby.”

But, like sand slipping through his fingers, you evaded his grasp and anguished yearning, leaving him alone on his knees as if you never existed in the first place. The brief contact he had with you seared through his skin like an iron brand, tasting of your warmth and sunshine he had missed in what felt like decades. It was like he could finally smell, see and love vividly, only for that light to be taken away from him when you pried his hands off you and took one step forward.

Disregarding him behind in the dust like how his brother once did. Rin refused to let you go, gripping onto the hem of your coat, praying you would turn around and see him again—love him again.

“Rin—” The choked emotion in your tone was far from the spite one would assume a heartbroken woman like you would have.

You had known Itoshi Rin to be an incredibly proud man who would never beg or plead for anyone quite like how he was bowing on his knees for you. And it pained you to see him this broken down—this beaten.

Because of you.

“Stop. Don’t.” Stand up, live your life, leave me alone.

Words you could not say perforated the air harsher than any salt or mineral could to rust the foundations of your feeble relationship with Rin. “Please, go. You… I don’t want to do this. We’re over, Rin. We’ve been over. Stop. Don’t do this.”

You halfway wished you hadn’t glanced back at him to tug your coat from his grasp. Wished you hadn’t seen his red-rimmed eyes, his swollen lips from biting back quiet sobs or the utter agony you could never fully grasp swimming in those beautiful teal irises of his. They swirled around you like dangerous eddies, dunking you into their icy bellies and numbing your rational thoughts from the perilous consequences.

And you valiantly fought off the current, trying hard to shake the hatred lingering in your soul for the words he spat in his brother’s face during the heat of their argument.

It happened weeks ago but you could still recall what he said like it was imprinted on the back of your eyelids.

Don’t be a lukewarm idiot—she’s worthless and means nothing to me. I only wanted to take revenge on you so you would know what it… what it felt like to lose!

A tear slipped past his lash line, free falling down to the grainy ground and sinking into the porous beyond. How many tears had the sand taken from the sea only to welcome her agony over and over again like a patient martyr? Another drop was hardly a burden onto his shifting shoulders; Rin’s heartbreak held no substance in time besides this very second, soon to be absorbed, never to be seen again.

All you did was sped up the process, not wanting to delay this excruciating torment and endure it for another second longer.

“I’m sorry,” he offered again, this time in a softer tone, as if he understood he had lost the war before it even began. “I didn’t mean what I said, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, baby? Please? Take me back.”

The last sentence was more of a desperate order than a request, his entire heart on the line when he reached out to you again, beseeching you like a sinner begging for clemency from a deity, taking your hands and pressing your palms to his cheeks. “Let me explain myself. I love y—“

“Please.”

The warmth you bestowed onto him even for just a few seconds was ripped away again, with more force this time, and you didn’t care if he was on his knees; you wanted to run away and never see him again.

Taking a few mincing steps back, your heart exploded with agonising relief when he didn’t move after you, frozen to the ground with his arms extended out towards your direction. They eventually flopped back to his side, losing all momentum and hope when you shook your head, fighting back a sob with a palm pressed to your mouth. Your eyes were heavy with unshed tears, and the moment you looked away, one of those pesky droplets broke free and slipped down your cheek, illuminating a path he wanted to kiss away with his apologetic lips; to stop the flow of sorrow with his aching devotion.

But, from your tense shoulders and frozen shock, you would rather swallow glass than let him do that; you wouldn’t let him come close to you without putting up a fight.

Balling your fists over your mouth, he watched, helpless to do anything but watch when you expelled a loud, muffled sob and shook your head from side to side, as if to push off the pain clinging to you like a second skin.

“Go,” you heaved through the cracks of your fingers, shaking from head to toe. “You’ve taken everything from me—my life back in Tokyo, my relationship with… with Sae… my reputation… you’ve gotten your revenge, Rin.”

You gasped that last part out, releasing one fist to push into your stomach, grounding your pain with a physical one so that you wouldn’t lose your mind right this instance. “I meant nothing to you, r-right? So, you shouldn’t be here if I m-meant n-nothing to y-you.”

“Wait—”

He barely blurted out his next words when you swivelled on your axis and sprinted back to your car, leaving him alone on the cold sand to fend off his tears. His knees smarted when he stood back to his full height, hands jammed into his pockets to hide the tremble in his fingers as those agonised teal eyes watched your car disappear down the road, back to the safety of your family’s orchard. Back to your cocoon you had spun to hide yourself away from the world.

Away from him.

Rin dropped his eyes to the sand staining his dark wash jeans, methodically brushing back one grain after another, his mind humming a blank. He ignored the pain in favour of taking off his shoes and socks, rolling up the hem of his jeans to his calves and soaking his feet in the cold waves lapping around him. For a few seconds, he closed his eyes, immersed in the cold, fighting back the pain manifesting in his right temple.

He peeled open his eyes again, and realising that he had sunken in a few inches since he last stood at the edge, he reluctantly stepped back, picking his shoes and socks from near the stone bench and made his way towards the old, rented car. Driving away, he escaped with his metaphorical tail in between his legs, not noticing a lone figure scrutinising him at a lookout point just above the beach.

Dressed in dark jeans and a similar jacket to Rin, his signature auburn hair tucked under a baseball cap and a large pair of shades covering his eyes, Itoshi Sae watched his brother fall to his knees for the woman who once belonged to him.

He was positioned too far to hear the words you both exchanged, but he could guess the context when Rin refused to let you go, clinging onto you like how a scared child might to his mother about to leave out the door forever.

Sae admitted he didn’t feel a shred of satisfaction when you repeatedly turned away, only for Rin to grip onto your coat, your hands, and nearly catch your waist again when you finally evaded him and sprinted towards your car. He wasn’t a cruel bastard the world made him out to be, not when he had to fight off the ache to tug his little brother back from the seashore, eyes narrowed in scrutiny as Rin stood stock still at the ocean’s lip.

He waited, wondering if Rin would succumb to the same pit of misery that was exactly like the one in his chest and wade deeper into the churning sea. Sae mulled over the thought of whether he had it in him to pull his younger brother back from the edge.

But, the moment Rin walked back to his car, Sae released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

He grunted, hands tightening into fists when his otouto drove away, in the direction of your home; the same address Sae had painstakingly researched for till the early hours of morning.

Truth be told, Itoshi Sae had no idea what he was doing here.

He had abandoned his flight to Spain and chose a domestic one to this buttfuck town in the middle of nowhere, just for the slimmest hope of seeing you again.

Peak season was upon the football world, and his team had a match against Italy next week. In theory, he should be practising his drills until he collapses in exhaustion, not stalking the woman whose life he ruined with clandestine pictures of her affair with his own brother.

What is wrong with me?

Sae could never find the exact answer for that. So, he waited until the sky dipped under the horizon and the shutters of night started to close upon the corners of the world.

Only then did he turn back to his own car to drive in the opposite direction of Rin; back to his hotel to pack up and leave this shit town before his coach realised he was missing.

In just one afternoon, your entire world had turned upside down.

You should’ve known that when peace came with the realisation that life had at least managed to work out for you, your past would come knocking on your door, like a bloodhound sniffing out your deepest wounds.

And you absolutely had not expected to see Rin at all.

You could barely pay attention to your job, and the cash register felt more like a barricade hiding you from incoming fire than a counter you could seek a few hours of solace from. Counting spare change needed a calculator’s help, and you had nearly dropped an entire jar of expensive umeboshi if it wasn’t for Kenji’s quick reflexes in catching the heavy glass.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised to him, almost in tears. “I’m… I’m not right today.”

He didn’t have to ask you why, because the second you uttered those words, the shop bell rang shrilly, and Rin stepped into the tiny store.

Kenji straightened, staring at the other man in disbelief; wondering just what the hell an Itoshi brother was doing here in the middle of Minabe where he didn’t belong.

“You,” Kenji seethed, rolling up his sleeves. Somewhere behind him, you flinched and took a step back behind the still, as if bracing yourself for the worst.

In your mind, you imagined Rin’s tantrum, the words he would yell at you and the attention drawn, once again, to your luckless love life in choosing him over Sae.

But, you hadn’t expected Rin to stiffly bow at your brother, completely ignoring you as he mumbled, “I’m here to submit a job application. I saw you needed a staff member to help with menial tasks and I wanted to try my luck.” The sign tacked onto the front of the shop drew your eyes towards it, and you wondered how you hadn’t noticed it in the first place until Rin pointed it out. Bowing deeper, he ignored your soft gasp of bafflement, only focused on the one man who held the keys to his redemption.

Without waiting for Kenji to reply, Rin bulldozed on to sell himself.

“I’m strong. I have good stamina and my physique stands at 6 foot 3. I can help with rearranging jars and even with plum picking, if you would accept me.”

Whatever card your brother expected your ex-lover to play, it wasn’t this. He stood there, stupefied with his stocky shoulders slumped. For a split second, he glanced at you, and with a secret sibling code, he raised his eyebrows, as if to say—what’s going on?

Your reply was a quick, sharp shake of your head. I don’t know.

Rin waited while you both silently communicated, his intense teal stare never wavering from the dirty tiled floors.

It wasn’t your decision to reject or hire any potential employees, so your brother was the one to call the shots.

“What… why would you want this job?” Narrowing his eyes, Kenji spoke through gritted teeth when the obvious answer settled in. “If it’s just to play sweet by my sister, you can forget it. I’m never letting you get close to her.”

You noticed Rin’s heavy shoulders tensing and anticipated a sharp reply or the promise of a brawl. Not lowered eyes and an almost regretful expression.

“I wanted to atone for my mistakes and this was the only way I knew how. I want to help your family, L/N-san.”

It sounded strange to hear your ex-lover say your family name with such formality; it made you come to terms that he never held a perception of hierarchy when it came to you.

You were always Y/N to him, just like he was just Rin to you.

“Fuck off, Itoshi,” your brother retorted hotly, and he picked up a broom, as if the measly stick could ward off a seasoned football player who was physically in his prime. “Get out of here. You’re just trying to get back into my nee-chan’s good graces. You shouldn’t be here.”

Kenji’s words rang around the small shop. The air-conditioner gurgled and whined; there was no other sound in this tight bubble of tension than all of your heavy breathing.

Rin’s eyes met yours for the first time since this morning when you rejected him on the beach with desperation. They were filled to the brim with such sorrow you had never seen the egotistical striker carry; a weight curving the ends of his lips down.

“Can I at least speak to you before I leave? Please?” he added softly as an afterthought.

Kenji glanced at you, prepared to fight your battles. But, you shook your head and took a deep breath. This was a conversation you needed to have with Rin alone; there was only so much you could do before your past came back with a vengeance, pleading for you to resolve the suffocating emotions so everyone could move on freely.

Going around the still, you glanced back at Kenji with a tight smile. “Could we borrow the balcony for a bit?”

Your brother looked like he would rather swallow nails than let stay in the same room with this bastard for one more second. He debated for a split second, and only when you nodded again, did he give his consent.

“Fine.” Fishing in his overall’s pockets, he tossed you a single bronze key. To Rin, he fixed a glare. “If I hear one single complain from my nee-chan—”

“You have every right to beat me up,” he promised without prompting, catching both you and Kenji back with surprise. Rin’s conviction in his tone was what gave the slightest bit of confidence to Kenji that the pro-player wasn’t going to hurt you again once his back was turned. “I’ll take care of her,” Rin murmured softly, and the glimmer of gratitude on his lashline shouldn’t have made Kenji feel guilty, but it did. “You can trust me with that.”

His reassurance was a bit of an overkill, but it worked to ease your brother’s distaste. Kenji glanced at the ticking clock, and then back at your grim expression.

“Fifteen minutes. Anymore than that and I will personally throw you out of this store myself, Itoshi. You’re taking up my only employee’s precious time.”

“I promise I’ll make this quick.” Rin’s serious expression reflected your exasperation back. You loved your brother, but sometimes, he could be a bit of a hardhead with his threats.

“We’ll be down in a bit,” you reassured, and unlocked the door which led right to the very top floor. “Please help me man the counter?”

The corner of your brother’s lip twitched, but he didn’t deny your request, taking your place behind the still with his back turned from the door. Counting down the minutes and showing enough grace to give you both the privacy you needed without his prying eyes.

You shot him an appreciative look, and gestured at Rin to follow you. He kept a respectable distance from you, hands in his pockets and surly expression locked on the linoleum floor to watch his steps.

Bright sunlight battered down your head without mercy, and you shielded your eyes, staring out at the different tiled houses as far as your eye could see. In the distance was the beach where Rin had encountered you not even five hours ago, his knees digging into the sand, begging you for the forgiveness you could not give to him.

Now, he was back here, braving the storm of your family’s retribution and judgement to speak to you.

What did that say about his character and intentions?

If Rin really was guilty of the things he had done to you, he would’ve stayed away for the sake of his good conscience. But, here he was, looking at you like you hung the moon in the sky and the stars would disappear if he took his eyes off of you for a single second.

A cool breeze played with the ends of your hair, and it threw his bangs into a disarray. You almost reached forward and pushed them back, like you did the first time you had met Rin in his kitchen. But, like that very first time, you chickened out and kept your hands into fists by your side.

“Thank you for your willingness to listen,” he broke the silence, and your heart plummeted right into your stomach when the redness rimming his eyes came into your focus.

“Are you sleeping well?” you had no idea why you blurted out such a question. What Rin did in his spare time was none of your concern anymore. And yet… you couldn’t stop your curiosity on his wellbeing.

He blinked and briefly glanced down at his sneakers. “Um, no. A-are you?”

The question was meant to sound casually curious, but with Rin, nothing was ever casual. His intensity in hiding his true emotions was as palpable as your shaking hands. Neither of you could keep the truth from the other for too long, or play along with a game that had already decided the heartbroken loser.

You sighed, crossing your arms in front of your body, preferring to stare out at the sliver of calming blue in the distance than his haunted teal eyes.

“Rin—”

“I’m sorry.”

Just like that, with no fanfare of emotional blackmail. Itoshi Rin expressed his regret as eloquently as he could—with less words because he was a man of action. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around you and hold you right above his heartbeat.

Couldn’t you hear it from where you stood? It only thrummed the cadence of your name. You were written in his every breath from the second he saw you.

Rin needed you to forgive him because he may actually go insane if you refused to show him any grace.

His heartbeat was lodged right in his throat, and he stared at you with open want; wishing you would break the distance between the both of you and fall right back into his arms.

But, you had every right to be angry with him. He was the root cause that destroyed your life; the virus which encroached your every breath and poisoned how the world saw you.

Your reputation, your home and your job was all gone because of him. It would take a lifetime to atone for his mistakes, and Rin was ready to start now. He would lay himself right at your feet if you so much as asked him to. If you told him that you never wanted to see him again, he would fight to try and change your mind.

Rin would fight for you, tooth and nail, because that was what a striker did. They would go to the ends of the earth for a goal, and you were one of his biggest aspirations to return to.

The trophies and medals and worldly recognition didn’t matter.

All Itoshi Rin wanted was you in your pure entirety.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. I promise, I—” his breath caught, and the truth spilled from his willing lips onto your unwilling ears that burned with the shame of remembering everything he said before. “—I was stupid and careless with my words. You don’t mean ‘nothing’ to me. You… you mean a lot to… to me…”

He trailed off, the words right on the tip of his tongue.

You are my everything, Y/N. I love you.

It’s just three words. Rin was able to say it. He was able to share his entire soul with you if his mouth would just move.

Come on, you coward. Tell her what she deserves to hear. Tell her what you’re really feeling. Just tell her—

“I love… I love…”

Like the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders, those words which carried a Universe of meaning were about to fall like the heaviest stars onto your lap. For you to marvel at, for you to hold, or for you to reject—Rin wasn’t sure what you would do.

He never had a chance to tell you how he really felt before the scandal broke out, and he was paying the price for his big ego. He should’ve told you what you meant to him. He should’ve yelled out to the world how you made his heart sing and how you could make his stone cold soul come back to life with the promise of your new tomorrow.

There were a lot of things Rin should’ve done, and loving you was the only thing he should’ve done right.

You didn’t deserve the half-love he gave you or those harsh words which fractured your trust in him.

You had made him feel safe when he couldn’t even stay still in his own skin. You were the one person who dared to dig deeper past his cold facade to bring out the boyish side of him begging for love. You patiently mended his broken pieces with your constant patience. You made him feel reassured enough to expose the soft underbelly of his emotions.

You had carried his baby.

And what did he do?

He broke your heart. He made you feel like you never meant anything to him. He played a big part in destroying your entire life. He had caused you enough stress to lose the gift of love you both created together.

You had appeared in his life like a ray of light through fractured glass on an ice-cold surface. Slowly, you chipped apart his frosty demeanour, and for the first time in his life, Rin felt like he belonged somewhere. That he belonged with someone.

Rin had always felt like a stranger everywhere he went, and you were the first one to give him direction in his short life. He wasn’t nurtured by his own mother, barely tolerated by his own father and completely despised by his older brother.

There were a few people he could count on his fingers who actually cared for him, and you were always at the forefront of his mind whenever that question arose.

“Y/N,” the words he wanted to say came out as a hitched breath. “I love yo—”

“Rin, please,” your exhausted call of his name stopped him from spilling out those three words which he desperately hoped would change your mind.

The look on your face was nothing short of pure heartbreak. Even in your dreary uniform, you shone like the brightest star, refracting off his foolish hopes and dreams for a reconciliation when you were still hurting with every breath.

Rin knew this. He knew he had to give you time. But, his time here with you was limited; half of him wanted to let you know the words which burdened heavily on his soul before he had to wait to see you again—if he would ever see you again.

If you would ever allow him to see you again.

But, judging from your stance to your sombre expression, Rin sensed his chances were slim to none. The desperation clawed at his throat, resting somewhere underneath his ribcage and pulsing with only one sensation.

Hope.

Rin desperately hoped you would take him back. All he ever wanted was you.

But, you broke that hope with what you said next, and whether you knew it or not, you stole the last of his sanity when your words hit him like a truck.

“Everything we did… for you, it was revenge. But, for me… it was love.”

Your watery smile cracked into painful fragments, rivers of anguish carving down your cheeks. His entire chest exploded into stabs of pain. Questions and uncertainties bounced in his brain like a broken record: should he reach out for you? Kiss you? Beg for your forgiveness again?

“I loved you, Itoshi Rin,” you finished your soliloquy quietly, unaware of the storm you set off in his soul, his frozen body desperately stuck in its eye.

Say something you coward… change her mind… tell her you love her.

But, she loved me.

Loved. Not love.

Was he too late?

Those pesky words clogged the back of his throat, and no matter how much he wanted to spill them out, they wouldn’t budge. Remaining stuck there to rot while he had to watch you slip away from him for the third time in his life.

The smile you wore did not touch your glossy eyes, and you closed them momentarily, letting the sun burn behind your lids in this last enjoyment of the winter afternoon rays. You opened them to his red-rimmed eyes and quivering lips. You were going to devastate him again, he knew it, but he could not turn around and look away; could not peel his attention from the wreckage waiting to unfurl—your earth-wounding words that would shatter his hopes all over again.

“Even if you have broken my heart into pieces… I just want to say that… I would’ve loved to dance with you again in another lifetime.”

Loved. Not love.

You bowed your head, having unloaded all you needed to say and turned around for one final time.

Rin took one step back, reeling from the surety of your words that were set in stone.

Loved. Not love.

He really was too late.

As if an invisible timer signalled the end of this meeting, you bowed your head, trying your best to ignore the devastation imploding on every inch of his expression out of the corner of your eye.

“I should be going now, Rin,” you muttered softly. “I have to finish my shift… Please, get home safely.”

Home.

He watched as you gave him a parting, thin smile, and with your arms still wrapped around your torso, you descended down the stairs. Back to your new life and reality without him.

Rin closed his eyes, warding off the intrusive thoughts begging him to just grab you and hold you tight in the seam of his embrace so you would never leave him again. But, he recognized that if he did, you would hate him forever.

He needed to give you some space. And he needed to finally tell you what was haunting his mind and soul.

He needed to tell you what he truly felt or else the peace he was desperately seeking would never find him.

It was stupid, but Rin had to try.

And he wouldn’t stop trying until he could finally unburden the secrets of his soul.

Until he could finally tell you how much he loved you without stuttering over his words and keeping them hostage on his traitorous tongue.

I love you. I love you.

Why were those words so hard to say? What could make it easier when he knew with every fibre of his soul that they were true?

Maybe I have to show it to her instead of saying it.

And just like that, he conjured up a simple idea, one which would lead him right back to you.

But first, he had to win over your younger brother.

Rin was relentless in pursuing you.

He had another day left in Minabe before his reservation at this shitty ryokan was up and Ego-san would call for a nationwide search to find his best striker. His paltry pile of clothes were packed—reluctantly, he might add—into neat squares in the corner, ready for him to stuff into his suitcase. Implicitly, Rin knew what the outcome of this crazy idea would be, and if his hunch was proven right, he had to leave—and quickly.

He took a look at himself in the floor length mirror, tousling his limp bangs into a semblance of life. Deciding the angle in which they flopped was better than the last, he inhaled deeply and set out to find you once more.

Along the way, Rin stopped to buy a bouquet of flowers. They were pathetic at best—a few limp stems poking from the damp wrapping—but, he knew you loved pink lotuses. They were your favourite; he remembered how you couldn’t keep your eyes off them when the both of you walked past an arrangement perched prettily on a console table during that brief respite on a balcony in Hokkaido.

With flowers in hand, Rin put on his thickest face, prepared to trudge back into your little umeboshi shop and finally spill out the words lodging in the back of his throat ever since he first saw you in your ridiculously short miniskirt under the light of his mother’s kitchen.

But, when he disembarked from his car, he found the shop locked. Closed for the day.

One quick scan of the plaque hanging by the handle told him that Ume Sanka didn’t open on Tuesdays.

A lump of coal seemed to settle in the pits of his stomach. He swallowed hard, and doubled back, about to scour the beach for you, when he noticed a woman staring at him from across the street.

“Hello!” she called out to him, in a friendly way most villagers had. She waved him over, her rheumy eyes shining with delight.

“Oh, how handsome you are,” she cooed, and disregarding personal space, ruffled his hair.

“Hey—”

Rin snapped his mouth shut when she laughed throatily. “Are you looking for the L/N girl? You must be a suitor from Tokyo trying to win her back. Ah, the old hags at my Go club were wondering for days—why she came back home all of the sudden. Poor girl. She looked so sad—you must’ve been the one to break her heart.”

Though the older woman meant to joke, Rin couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt. Without a shred of his ego, he nodded.

“Do you know where I can find her?”

Even to this relative stranger, his desperation was palpable. The older woman chuckled, and lifting one bony finger, pointed down the road. “Her family owns an orchard. Nasty business it was. I’m old enough to remember—her father, what a bastard. He left her mother and moved to some town in the middle of nowhere. The poor woman—bless her heart—tried to keep it together for her family, but she also hightailed it out of here the moment her boy turned two. Only granny was left to take care of the both of them.”

Unaware of how this young man’s heart was leadened in both despair and grief for never knowing your story, she continued. “Eventually, the orchard was passed to the boy, and the girl—prettiest I’ve ever seen—went to the city to look for work. Honestly, everyone thought she would fail or come back home, belly swollen and heartbroken. But, she’s just fine. A little sad looking, but better than any of us expected.”

Rin clenched the flowers tighter in his grip, his heart rate tripling. “Thank you. For telling me—and for showing me where she is.” He bowed to this random kind angel, and the older woman looked absolutely delighted.

“Good luck finding her, young man. You look strong and sure. I think you could win her over.”

Rin sure hoped so, as well. Turning on his heel, he jogged down the cobblestone path, taking a left turn and finding himself in front of a fence. It was opened, and he pushed it slightly, stepping into plush greenery and tall, swaying plum trees. The air smelled ripe and sweet. Rin inhaled greedily, suddenly hyper aware of how this crisp scent was the same one lingering on your neck.

In the throes of his thoughts, he didn’t sense someone approaching him.

“You. Again.”

Rin never thought he would’ve been relieved to see your brother, but the second he heard Kenji’s voice, his shoulders sagged.

“Kenji-san. Is Y/N here?” Shamelessly, Rin looked at him eagerly. Kenji’s eyes fell on the bouquet in the other man’s grip. As much as he was debating if he should take this shovel and knock some common sense into this foolish athlete, Kenji hated to admit how much he admired Rin’s determination.

Wiping droplets of sweat from his brow, he placed the shovel down and shoved his gloved hands into his thick, windbreaker. “You’re never going to give up until you see her, are you?”

Rin had the decency to look sheepish. “I’ll be leaving for France soon. I really would like to see her again.”

Kenji’s expression was impassioned. “You’re going to get her hopes up. You should leave her alone if you know what’s good for you.”

But, Rin didn’t hear threats or ultimatums. He was only fixated on the goal of seeing you again.

“Please, Kenji-san.” Despite being younger than the striker, Kenji took one step back, thrown off by the sincerity in that honorific. “You will be doing me a huge favour if I could see her again. I would like to at least pass her these flowers.”

Kenji eyed the bouquet of lotuses again, remembering how you would hold a similar arrangement whenever you came back from the florist, all flushed and bright-eyed with satisfaction at your bargain. It was that single reminder of what happiness once looked like on your face which made Kenji reconsider.

“If she rejects you again, I have nothing more to say. She’s made her choice.”

It wasn’t a blessing, but it wasn’t a curse either. Kenji was merely stating the truth. With his heart in his throat, Rin nodded, and Kenji eventually let him go.

“She’s by the greenhouses. Just remember what I told you, Itoshi.”

Rin would never forget it; he would never forget your brother’s kindness in having this moment with you.

“I will,” he mumbled, teal eyes filled to the brim with hope. “Thank you… Kenji-san.”

The day was unusually cold.

Even a heat pack in your coat pockets couldn’t keep the numb chill from reaching your fingers, and you shivered, biting back on the urge to leave for the warm comforts of your home and abandon your idea of bathing Reina’s jizo in such conditions.

But, you preserved. If you were this cold, imagine what she must be feeling?

The woollen hat you knitted for her a month ago was placed lopsidedly on her dear, stony head. You chuckled a little, righting it when you sensed another presence behind you.

“Sorry, Kenji. I’m almost done, okay? I’ll help you rake up the roots later.”

Instead of your brother’s gruff tones, it was an unmistakable low rasp which sent a bolt of electricity down your spine.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the cold like this.”

You gingerly stood up, ignoring the burn in your thighs from crouching down for almost an hour. The tiny stone statue was hidden from her father’s sight, your hands clawing over the small pail. Frightfully, you wondered how he would react once he saw her—the hatred he must feel towards you for keeping her existence a secret till the very last dire minute.

Steadying your breathing, you exhaled, “How’d you find me?”

He was holding a bouquet of lotuses, you noted in shock. The pink blooms looked starkly out of place in an orchard starting to wither from the impending winter.

“Here.” With the grace of a little boy in church tasked to pass a lighted candle to a girl who always made him blush, Rin thrusted the bouquet underneath your nose. You set the pail down, taking it—unable to break the baffled silence.

The tips of his ears were red, and Rin shifted his gaze to the ground, struggling to find the right words. “I asked your brother. He told me you’d be here.” Summoning his courage, he looked you in the eye. “I meant what I asked yesterday—I want to help with your store. Take me on as an employee.”

You blinked. Your fingers were tingling, the cold settling into your bones. You wanted to stuff your hands into your coat pockets but they were curled around freezing stems. A part of you was unsure of where to look or how to best give light to the incredulity burning through your thoughts. “Don’t be silly. You have a career in football.”

“So?” he argued back, a furrow in his brow. “I would give it all up.” For you.

He didn’t add that last sentence. He didn’t have to.

You shifted from one foot to another. “No.” Your tired eyes met his, and you refused to be bowed by his determination. “Go home, Rin.” Exhausted, defeated. You wished he would leave you alone in your exile. Passing him the bouquet back, you softened your rejection with a frail, “Go home—go back to Tokyo.”

Rin had no choice but to take the flowers back with an uncertain look; his shoulders drooped, his eyes falling back to the ground. A loose leaf was shaken out of the arrangement, floating to the floor. He was silent for a few moments, before he said: “Come back to Tokyo.” With me.

Your heart squeezed. “And do what?” your whisper deepened the chasm between you two.

He swallowed. “Stay with me. I can get you a job. PXG needs more hands and you can start fresh and—”

“Rin,” your eyes welled with tears. “Stop. You know I don’t belong in Tokyo.” I don’t belong with you.

“Who said that?” he demanded, taking one step forward. “You belong there. You do.” You belong with me.

You shook your head, forcing a smile on your frozen lips. “I don’t,” your whisper sliced through his defiance, leaving him depleted of hope. “My life is here, with my brother and…” you hesitated, and his eyes flickered to the spot behind your calf.

He had noticed your biggest secret, his expression folding open in quiet disbelief.

It was useless to hide the truth, and you stepped aside, showing him the jizo statue of a little girl with a peaceful, smiling face and closed eyes. The pail of water and your nervous demeanour suddenly made sense.

“Is that…?”

His voice disappeared between incredulity and grief. Rin subconsciously took one step forward. You didn’t stop him and he took another until he was standing a foot away from you, absorbed in the tiny details of this stone statue believed to guide an unborn baby’s spirit and protect them in the afterlife. Assuming responsibility for the parents who had failed her in the real world.

The little cap you had made for her, the mittens that adorned her hands. Rin felt the lump in his throat thicken.

You were stricken with grief, nodding. Rin looked to you, and the anguish written on his face mirrored your own deep sorrow.

The both of you stared at the little stone statue—the baby girl conceived into the world betrayed by your own body and his deception.

Rin’s shoulders curved forward, as if to curl within his own self-hatred. Your haunted gaze touched the jizo, and you slowly got onto the ground, ignoring the cold to tuck your legs into a demure, side sitting position. Inviting him to join you with a simple nod. He sat next to you, cross-legged, fingers an inch away from your own.

Without looking to you for permission, Rin set the shunned bouquet right in front of her stony smile; all of his overwhelming love and your crippling regret with nowhere to go—except to a little girl who was painfully wanted by both her star-crossed parents only after she no longer existed.

You yearned to take his hand, hold it and reassure yourself that everything was okay. But, at the last second of your crumbling willpower, you shifted your hand further from his, rocking back.

Rin’s silence stretched on.

Above you, the trees rustled in the wind, branches clacking together. You began to shiver, and before you could protest, Rin’s arm came to wrap around you. Sharing his body heat together with you. Despite your reservations, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting yourself be weak in this instance and cave into his embrace.

No words were shared. Both of your breaths were stuttered, and you swore you felt a tear trickle into your hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know you don’t trust me, but I just want you to know… not a day goes by that I don’t regret everything.”

His watery eyes traced the statue’s serene face. You didn’t absolve him of his monstrosities, but neither did you want this moment to be over. So, you sighed brokenly and admitted the first thing that came into mind.

“I dream of her all the time, you know.”

His silence welcomed you to spill your sorrowful secrets into his waiting shoulder. “She’s always smiling. Laughing. She’s beautiful.”

Rin recalled the dream he had on the day where everything had gone wrong; of a little girl with sparkling teal eyes and an infectious giggle. He bowed his head forward, lips pressed into your hair. “I dreamt of her, too. Tiny. With my dark hair and eyes. And your smile.”

“Your eyes,” you echoed uselessly. “My smile.”

He kissed your temple again. “So beautiful.”

You fell into a thick disquiet. Rin rubbed your arm, giving you more of his heat.

“You should go back to Tokyo,” you started, squeezing your eyes shut and refusing to submit to the sobbing voice in the back of your mind begging for him to stay. “It’s where you belong.” When Rin didn’t say a single word, you continued. “Go to France. Win the World Cup. Be happy, Rin. Forget about everything that happened and start anew.”

Forget about me.

You didn’t add that last sentence. You didn’t have to.

“I don’t want to forget everything,” he began in a quiet voice, staring at the stone effigy of his lost daughter. “I don’t want to forget her.” Or, you.

“You won’t,” you replied simply, with more surety than he could’ve imagined. “She’s with us. Always.” Before you could stop yourself, you gently plucked one mitten from the statue’s hand and pressed it into his larger palm. “Take this. It’ll remind you of her.” And hopefully, me.

Rin shook his head, about to argue when you echoed an empty laugh. “I’ll make her a new one. I won’t leave her fingers cold—don’t worry.” This time, he couldn’t fight back the tears welling in his eyes, pressing the woven mit into his jacket pocket, wishing he could say something—anything—to change your mind.

But, he didn’t. He had said all he had to say.

Rin removed his arm and got back to his feet. Your face was hidden by your hair when you stood up, too. He scanned the area, looked back at the statue and then to you.

You were smiling, haunted and broken, but smiling, nonetheless. Even when you had suffered the most—even when you had left behind everything you held dear and lived a half-life in this tiny village. You still smiled, and for that, Itoshi Rin would never forgive himself.

“I’ll wait for you,” he blurted out. Your smile slipped and he hastened his words. “You need time, I understand. I can wait for a few years. Or, a year, if you want to speed things up.”

His lame attempt at a joke made you chuckle weakly. “Rin—”

“I’m not giving up on us,” he said quietly. Your wide eyes latched onto him, whether with fear or admiration, he did not know. “It will take a lot to get me to forget you, L/N Y/N. I hope you know that.”

He didn’t give you a chance to destroy his hopes. Rin walked away, head bent low and hands in his pockets, fiddling with the tiny mitten you had gifted him.

Rin tightened his grip on the piece of cloth. There were just some things a person can never push out of their mind no matter how hard they tried. It would linger in their memories, burying into their subconscious. Embedded in their every breath and thought. Like a comet.

You were a comet in his short life, brilliant and streaking his sky with every shade of colour, Rin feared that if he took his eyes off you, his life would go back to black and white.

The young man meant what he said.

He could never forget you.

Not ever in his lifetime.

#🦢 writes #itoshi rin #itoshi x reader #itoshi brothers #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock angst #bllk rin #bllk angst #itoshi rin angst

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