#but that narrows my clothing options down to next to nothing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinnamoneve · 1 year ago

Text

𝐟𝐞𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞.

feuillemorte \fə.jə.mɔɹt \ (adj.) - of the color of dead or dying leaves: dull yellowish or orangish brown.

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x gn!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: satoru falls into habits of sleepless nights when he worries ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader gets picked up by gojo (he is the strongest btw and he can lift anyone w ease !!) ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 2k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: there is angst if you squint. pls enjoy my loves ♡

the apartment always felt colder at night.

selfishly, you lazily searched for your boyfriend’s warmth to steal, afraid that opening your eyes would ruin the illusion of dreaming while you’re awake. patting around, the bed was unusually empty and lacked satoru’s body heat to keep you toasty.

you break your comfort to crack your eyes open and see that you are, in fact, all alone in bed.

“satoru?” you manage to call out, half in a whisper, to no response.

you peek at the clock on the bedside table. it’s 3:52am.

slowly, you sit up and prepare to get out of bed. all you’re wearing is one of satoru’s shirts, which probably explains why you’re freezing your ass off. you grab the blanket off the bed to shroud yourself before bracing for the cold; changing out of satoru’s shirt won’t be an option.

it was one of the first items of clothing he’d given you in your relationship. the two of you live together now–you have unlimited access to satoru’s extensive wardrobe, along with his blessing to take anything, anytime.

the shirt was well-loved and very lived in; it had stains and holes in it, a burn mark from a night you tried to impress satoru with an expensive cut of flame-grilled steak. it was just a silly shirt, after all–some graphic tee he’s acquired one way or another that fit him like it was made for him.

he lied, actually, giving it to you. lying through his teeth when he remarked how it was too small on him, but he’d hate to get rid of it. he was really thinking about how you’d look wearing it, how the hem would float just around the middle of your thigh, the shirt covering you in an extension of him.

satoru would dream of you doing nearly anything in that shirt. laughing at a joke he told, brushing your teeth together, eating the breakfast he made for you, sleeping on the couch you two picked out together. you had other clothes he loved, but this was his favorite.

you didn’t know this, of course, you just loved him. a lot, actually. and that was reason enough to wear it.

you scrunch the blanket up so it doesn’t drag on the floor as you venture into the dark apartment.

“saaaaatoru~” you whisper around, checking if he went for a quick pee, or maybe if he was changing into different sweats.

no sign of him in the bathroom, or poking around the laundry room.

maybe he was feeling restless and went for a run?

mm, he would’ve told you first. his shoes are still by the door, along with his keys and everything. his phone was by the bedside table when you left the bedroom.

perhaps a midnight snack was in order. satoru was often hiding away in the kitchen, stealing himself a quick bite of something sugary to quell his sweet tooth before bed. and you’d always act surprised when you found him, and he’d always act like he was up to no good.

nothing there either, but there was a suspiciously ice cream-covered spoon lying next to the sink: a telltale sign he’d be coming back for it.

seemed to be getting warmer.

the living room was quiet and dark, and he wasn’t curled up on the couch watching something he was barely even paying attention to. it was narrowed down to one place.

you put some shoes on before opening the door to the balcony. the crisp autumn hair hit your face before you even noticed satoru sitting on the ground. you had furniture out there. there was no reason for him to be doing that.

your voice was still groggy from your slumber.

“good morning, satoru,” you mumbled. he knew you were there, and he was already looking back up at you.

“hey, you,” he replies. his voice is abnormally mellow for the words he said. his eyes were a little puffy, and touches of pink dotted the tips of his nose and ears. maybe it was the weather doing this all to him.

you studied his face a little more, and he looked tired. the kind of tiredness that sleep won’t fix.

“i couldn’t sleep,” he dryly says.

“i know. it’s okay, love”

and you said that honestly, but you weren’t sure if you meant it.

satoru had bits of insomnia when work got particularly hard. he worried about not being able to protect you or his students, so he kept infinity working overtime. the means justified the end in his opinion, and his thick head wouldn’t change what’s not in need of a fix. you both were still safe, right? what’s a few days’ worth of sleep if it guaranteed he could protect you both?

you couldn’t fight him on it anymore, you knew this. the best you could do was support him and love him. but it was hard to watch.

the silence was occasionally broken up by the wind moving dried leaves on the street below. it seemed like the whole world was asleep at this hour. too early for the morning risers, too late for the night owls; just you, satoru, and the moon on the balcony together. satoru stared off into the distance, towards the city that seemed to be the only thing alive right now.

he looked up and snaked his hand up your thigh, settling gently on the hem of your shirt. his shirt, really, but it was soft enough that you barely felt the tug.

you went to sit on the ground with him, but he pulled you by the bottom of your t-shirt into his lap.

“don’t, it’s dirty,” he flatly mumbled into the crook of your neck.

you hummed in response as you settled onto him. he hugged your waist and leaned his head against your back, nestling just between your shoulder blades.

“you’re gonna get sick if you sit out here any longer, y’know,”

“the fresh air feels nice,” his words tickle your back, which makes you giggle.

you twist around to straddle him and see his face.

he gives you a tired smile when his eyes meet yours. you tilt your head to give him a sympathetic look.

taking his face in your hands, you thumb his cheek and soothe him as best as you can.

“your face is freezing, stupid,”

he suppresses a smile, but his dimples are evidence of his feelings. he pulls the blanket to cover the both of you.

“come here then, lemme steal some of your body heat if you really care so much about me,”

you crawl into him as he holds you, keeping you both wrapped under the blanket with only your heads peeking out. he’s keeping you so snug to him that it’s hard to look up at him, or even move.

“thank you, satoru”

“you don’t have to do that”

“i absolutely do, don’t be crazy. you’re keeping us safe, right?”

“something like that, i think. or trying to,”

his confession makes you both go silent. the wind whistles again as the fallen leaves dance once more. he pulls you a bit closer as a chill settles in.

“i don’t know,” he sighs, “i don’t know what’s the right thing to do, i’ve realized”

“you don’t have to, baby, it’s okay,”

“i wish i could scream at the sky ‘til it shattered,”

you giggled at the thought of it, and snuggled more into the blanket cocoon satoru wrapped you both in.

“i bet it’d be cathartic,”

“do you think it’d reach whatever’s up there?”

aliens? god? the infinite he can’t get his hands on, maybe. it was all up in the air.

“maybe if you yell loud enough,”

satoru shrugged at your simple answer. he was thinking about this before you got here, you’ve gathered, but he tended to grasp at the harder solutions instead of the simple ones in reach. he was an overthinking and philosophical mess when he’d had no sleep.

“maybe,” he said, “we’ll have to try it,”

he began drifting his hand around your back. slowly drawing patterns, writing words, marking circles around your spine. you could find yourself ready to fall back asleep right then. best not rub it in though.

it was hard for the stars to shine brightly this close to the city. the light pollution seeping from tokyo battled the stars for dominance, and it always won.

satoru looked up at the night sky. for guidance, for a sign, for divine intervention. the wind carried the scent of dead leaves.

he’d hope that he’d go the same way. leaves were beautiful at every stage of their lives, he thought. stark, shiny green one moment and a deep myriad of autumnal colors the next. yellow for a bit, orange for just a breath, red maybe if it felt like it. it fell, plagued the ground, but was never considered litter or unkempt looking. it was beautiful, even when it was dead and served no purpose.

he’d wished father time would be as nice to him as he’d been to leaves.

was it father time? death itself? or god, maybe. maybe it was nothing at all.

satoru hugged you closer, if that was even possible.

it all seemed so infinite. the infinite outcomes and the endlessness of it all seemed to haunt him greater than any curse could.

all he could focus on was the person in his lap. he’d hope you were together in every lifetime. in every timeline.

you were matching stains on a graphic tee gifted by a lover. you were two ice-cream covered spoons on the edge of the sink. maybe you were two leaves dancing on the ground, waiting for the next time that the wind would bring you another adventure.

but for now, you were you. and satoru was himself.

and there’s nothing wrong with that. it’s a beautiful thing to be painfully mundane sometimes. to not be the strongest, not have the power of infinity, and to not know the next move. the answer was in front of him all along, as usual, and obvious as well.

he exhaled deeply.

“c’mon, let’s get back to bed”

you were drifting off to sleep already, but the sudden vibration of his words pulled you out of it.

“mm? are you sure? we can sit outside as long as you want. i don’t mind,”

“i know,” he said, “it’s okay. i’ll carry you. don’t worry about getting up”

in one swift motion, satoru was up to his feet with you cradled in his arms. he stepped inside, locked the door, and made way for the bedroom.

he carefully put you back in bed. when he reached down to place your head on the pillow, you pulled him in for a deep kiss.

he just seemed like he needed it. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling your lips away but keeping him close.

he leaned in and cupped your face in his hands with a smile. he knew what you were going to say before you could even open your mouth.

“i’m okay, i promise,”

“i believe you”

you didn’t.

but he meant it. everything you do for him brings him an immeasurable amount of comfort, and even if he didn’t want to talk about it, just having you there to sit with him was more than enough.

“i love you,” he said.

and you answered, as you always do.

“i love you more,”

you didn’t. you couldn’t, he thought. it would be impossible to top the amount of adoration he holds for you. but he’d indulge you a little bit and let you think that. only silently he’d fight that fight, knowing you’d deny it if he ever voiced that.

satoru gave you a final kiss on the forehead before climbing into bed next to you. the lights were off, the house was cold, but underneath the covers was the perfect temperature.

you shifted close to him to steal some of his body heat.

he made sure his infinity was off so he could hold you even closer. it was the first night in a while he was able to sleep so soundly.

all content © cinnamoneve 2023. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

#★ jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #gojo #♡ satoru

1K notes · View notes

moonlight0934 · 4 days ago

Text

Nothing Else To Tell You

Damian is sitting at the table for breakfast when Bruce sits down next to him.

“Hey, Damian.”

“Hello, Father.”

“I was wondering if we could talk later. There’s something I wanted to discuss.”

“Of course, what is it?”

“I wanted to ask about your lifestyle before coming here. I want to make sure that you can adjust as easily as possible.”

Damian hums, nodding though he’s sure there’s some kind of ulterior motive.

“I would offer to do it now, but I have to leave for work in fifteen minutes.”

“That’s fine. We can talk later.”

“Ok, we’ll talk after you get back from school.” Bruce stands up, placing a gentle hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yes you will.”

Bruce smiles as he walks away. Damian finishes his breakfast, then gets ready for school.

I don’t understand why I have to do this, but at least I’m going to learn more about American etiquette.

“Make sure you’re on your best behavior,” Alfred says as he drives Damian to school.

Damian scoffs, looking out of the window with a frown. He heads into his class, sitting in his seat. His teacher makes him come up and introduce himself before class actually starts. He has to do that with every class that day, and he has no idea why. He doesn’t ask though since no one else seems to think it’s odd. Everything is fine until lunch. Damian walks outside to eat lunch, and he immediately notices five kids following him. Damian sets his lunch down, and turns around.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, we were just curious about you, so we figured we could eat lunch together,” one of the girls in the front says.

Damian narrows his eyes. Then he hears Bruce’s words from the other day in his head.

You should try to make some friends when you start going to school, Damian. It’ll be good for you.

“Alright, were you wanting to head back inside?”

“No, we’re ok out here. Do you eat outside often?” the girl asks.

“Yes, I like nature. May I ask for your name?”

“Oh, sorry, I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name is Isabella, but you can call me Isa. It’s nice to meet you.”

Damian nods, and finds a spot to sit down. He opens his lunch box and pulls out his sandwich.

“What kind of food do you like?” Isa asks while the rest of her friends just stand in the background.

Damian glances at them, feeling on edge and confused. He ends up spending lunch talking to Isa, but he only feels more confused by the time Alfred comes to pick him up.

“You can head straight down to the cave. Master Wayne will come down when he gets home from work. He’ll want to talk to you before training today.”

Damian nods, but he does get changed into work out clothes before heading down there. Tim is wrapping up his hands, but he’s the only one down there. He glances at Damian as Damian walks over to him.

“Are you going to stab me again?” he asks.

Damian shakes his head. “I actually have to ask you something since you’re my only option.”

“Ok, shoot,” Tim says as Damian also starts wrapping up his hands.

“I had something odd happen today at school.” He explains what happened with Isa.

“That is a little odd. I don’t know why her friends wouldn’t have talked to you. Maybe she pressured them into going out there.”

“Isn’t it odd that she talked to me like that?”

“Um… like what? She seemed normal to me. That’s probably just the fact that you haven’t really interacted with many people your age.”

“My upbringing wasn’t that odd. Yes, I know the murder and stuff is odd, but isn’t it normal to be worried about saying the wrong thing? Isn’t it normal to try to avoid messing something up by being more cautious, so you don’t get punished?”

“Well, people do tend to worry about saying the wrong thing. However, they don’t normally get punished if they do. I did, but she’s not from high society, is she? That’s why I was held to the standard that I was, and I quickly learned that not everyone had that standard.”

“No one is going to hit her if she does or says the wrong thing?”

“Hit her? That’s not punishment, that’s abuse.”

Damian hums as Bruce walks down the stairs.

Was all of that not normal? I don’t understand. Am I not supposed to tell them? Why couldn’t Omi have walked me through what I should and shouldn’t say before I got here?

“Damian, come here. Tim, we’re going to talk before we start training. Can you go do your warm up in the living room?”

Tim nods, giving Damian one last glance before heading up the stairs.

“So, you can start wherever you want,” Bruce says, sitting Damian down beside him.

Damian looks down at his hands.

What do I do? What should I say?

Damian starts to describe the way his schedule looked, then describes the softest parts of his training. He leaves out all of the punishments, and all of the hardest things his mother and grandfather had him do. He leaves out the details about the important stuff, and focuses more on other things. He talks about the way he likes to eat, and how he likes to keep his personal spaces. Bruce is watching him with a slight frown, but he doesn’t comment until Damian is done.

“So, is that it? Your training doesn’t sound as intense as you made it seem before.”

Damian nods.

“I have nothing else to tell you.”

“Ok, well, I guess that’s ok. I’ll have to rework your training schedule then. You can head back upstairs now, and send Tim down on your way up.”

Damian nods, his face red. He runs up the stairs.

“Drake, Father wishes to see you downstairs.”

Tim nods. “Are you alright? You look kind of embarrassed.”

“Leave me alone.”

Damian heads up the stairs to his room.

Omi is going to be angry that I made my training easier. I’m sure they’re talking about me. Does he know I’m lying? Is he going to call Omi?

Damian drops his head into his hands. “This is fine. I’ll figure this out.”

#angstober 2024 #angstober #no.30 #batman #batfamily #damian wayne #bruce wayne #tim drake #angst #child abuse #damian al ghul #whump writing #writing challenge

39 notes · View notes

crystalsnow95z · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request Jimin coming down with a cold during a fanmeet? so army is worried for him but he stifles his sneezes and pretends he is okay

This got really long.. sorry for the ridiculous amount of fluff in the beginning before getting to the actual fanmeet.

Sorry he's apparently very bad at pretending he's okay but that's just how it came out🤷‍♀️

"Jiminie, I don't know what I should wear." Hoseok whined from the closet, bringing out several different outfits, dropping some as he walked.

"Did you bring out your whole wardrobe?" Jimin giggles when he sees his roommate up to his nose in clothes, dropping them onto his bed, going back for the clothing he lost.

"No, maybe a quarter of it? Did you already choose yours Mini?" Hoseok starts pairing outfits together.

"Yeah I did last...ah...heh..heh'tichi !" Jimin quickly covers his face. "Heh..hehitdhi!"

"Bless you, Jiminie. You've been sneezing a lot since yesterday. Are you sure you're up for this?" Hoseok looks over the younger vocalist. Jimin's nose was pink, and his voice came out soft and congested.

"Yes, if I take some medicine I'll be..heh..heh'itch!" Jimin sniffles, rubbing his nose. He wasn't feeling well at all, but he didn't want to let army down. His sinuses were swollen, causing a throbbing headache and his throat was sore, having to speak softly so it didn't hurt as much to talk.

"I'll go get you some medicine.." Hoseok leaves the room, going into the bathroom where Yoongi and Taehyung were brushing their teeth. He opens the medicine cabinet, pulling out the cough syrup.

Taehyung spits into the sink. "Is Jiminie still not feeling well?"

"No, he's gotten worse overnight, but he seems to still be excited to go to the fanmeet.." Hoseok explains, leaving the bathroom with Taehyung at his heels.

"I heard your cold got worse.. I wanted to see..ah Minnah.. your nose is red now.." Taehyung goes up to Jimin, touching the tip of his nose.

"I'm okay Tete. It's just a little cold." Jimin smiles, trying to stop his urge to sniffle with his brothers standing in front of him.

"Here, take this, Jiminie." Hoseok pours him a shot of medicine, trying to pass it over to him. "Huh? Jiminie?"

Jimin steps back instead of grabbing it putting up a finger, his breath hitching as a sneeze builds. "Heh..heh..Heh'tichi! Heh...heitxchugh..!" He sniffles, taking the medicine in one swallow. "Thanks, Hyungie.."

"Hopefully it'll work quickly.. we only have ten minutes until staff comes to get us. Do you need anything else? Some water? Some pain pills? I'm already ready. I just need to put on my shoes." Taehyung's voice is thick with worry, but he knew Jimin wouldn't stay home to rest.

"Ten minutes? Aiish.." Hoseok starts digging through his pile of clothes. "Okay..okay.. I narrowed it down!"

"That would be great, Taehyungie. I got a bit of a headache." Jimin picks up a jacket from Hoseok's bed, trying to hide how awful he felt. "What about this one? It'll go good with those pants you're holding."

Taehyung leaves the two to figure out Hoseok's wardrobe fiasco.

"Oh, sh*t I'm sorry Jiminie have I been too loud?" Hoseok lowered his voice.

"No, no you're okay.." Jimin lied to spare Hoseok's feelings. Each time his voice raised with excitement, it made the pain intensify. "We need to hurry Hyungie, what about the outfit?" He quickly gets him back on topic.

"That's a great idea. Very cute." Hoseok holds them together. "Now, what shirt. Maybe this one? Or.. maybe a plain white one?" He sighs, looking at four different options he pulled. "Next time, don't let me ask the stylist if I could choose myself.."

"Heh..heh'itch..! You're just overthinking it. Army won't care what you wear. They just want to meet us." Jimin pretends he didn't sneeze, continuing the conversation like nothing happened, but Hoseok doesn't.

"Are you sure you'll be okay? It's going to be loud there and you know we'll get requested to sing at least a bit.. your voice is off.." Hoseok reaches to touch Jimin, checking for warmth in his cheeks.

"It's just a little cold. I'll be fine. I've done full concerts in..ah..ah..achitdh!" Jimin sneezes into his elbow. "Ugh...worse condition." He finishes his sentence wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"I know, I know.. i just worry about you." Hoseok starts getting changed, not having the time to fret over his ailing roommate.

Taehyung returns with pain medicine, shaking out two pills for Jimin. "Here Mini. This should help.." Even with Jimin trying his hardest to hide how he felt, his soulmate didn't fall for his fake smile. "You should try to rest on the way to the meet. Okay?"

Despite sleeping the whole forty-five minutes, it took to reach the fanmeet location Jimin still woke up feeling groggy and even more congested than before. They arrived early so they could get their makeup done, but the lucky Army who won the contest were already waiting outside.

"Oh wow.. thats more people than I thought.." Jungkook presses against the glass to see army lined up outside, the suv driving to the back entrance where they could discreetly enter.

"I hope they won't have to wait too long. We might have to set up a timer system so no one gets too little or too much time." Jin notes.

"Maybe we should've kept the number lower." Namjoon felt nerves churning in his stomach. Meeting army up close was much harder than performing for all of them.

"We made the meet two and a half hours this time.. we'll be fine." Yoongi looks at Jimin when he hears a loud sniffle from him. "I thought you were getting over your cold.. are you okay?"

"I thought I was too, but this morning it was worse.." Jimin gets a tissue, trying to clean up his face for the makeup artist to work with, but when he wipes away the drip, he triggers even more sneezes. "Hehitduch! Heh..heh..hehitcjsh! Heh..heh..." The last sneeze doesn't come on its own, having to force it out by rubbing and wiggling his nose. "Hah..haschi!"

Hoseok gets him a new tissue. "Here you go, Minnah."

"Thanks Hyung.." Jimin blows his nose, soaking the tissue with thick mucus. "I'm sorry Noona.." he bows, trying his best to stifle his sneezes as she tries to get his face done as quickly as possible.

"It's okay Jimin-ssi. Just tell me if you can't hold it back or if it becomes too much." The stylist says with a sympathic smile.

Jimin sat there trying to stay still, his breath hitching as he stifled his sneezes, constantly sniffling. He was reaching his limits, eyes watering as the pressure builds up.

"Do you need a break, Jimin-sii? Your eyes are watering..it's okay if you do, sweetheart." She asks, gently wiping a tear away.

Jimin nods, spinning away from her to release the sneezes he was holding, trying his best to not ruin her hard work. "Hehtichih!Heh..hehitcxh! Heh...heh...heihitchugh!" He sniffles loudly, gently dabbing his nostrils. "I'm sorry.." he turns back to face her, letting her touch up around his nose, holding his breath as she works.

"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault. I'm nearly done." She reassures him with a kind smile. "I'll add extra makeup near your eyes and on your nose.."

The crowd roars in cheers when the members come in site, Jimin only able to pick up the name of his teammates and that they love them. He was glad the medicine kicked in, making it bearable except when they got especially high in pitch.

Jimin waves and bows on his way to the table staff set up for them along with the others members each of them picking up the mic set out for them.

The seven line up, ready to greet army "2!3!" RM cues them to bow, all seven speaking in unison. "We are BTS."

The crowd cheers loudly, the fannmeet officially beginning.

"Army! Hello!" Jin checks his mic, the crowd all greeting him with cheers and hellos.

"Army..I purple you." Taehyung tries his mic next, army mimicking him, waving various purple things to show their love.

Jimin felt his stomach tighten, knowing full well army would be able to hear his congested voice when he spoke. He wanted them to have fun, not worry about him the whole time. He let all the others go first before going, keeping his short and sweet. "Hello, I'm Jimin. I'm so excited to be here."

Hoseok quickly starts talking right after him, trying to distract army. "Are you ready to have some fun?"

Sh*t..

Jimin could feel the tickle return at the very edge of his nose, his breath hitching to sneeze, but he used a trick Yoongi told him, rubbing his tongue across the top of his mouth, relaxing when it actually worked.

The first thing on the agenda of things to do with a Q&A, a bowl of questions being brought to the table.

"Alright army let's try to see how many we can get through in 20 minutes!" Hoseok reaches in the bowl, struggling with the English writing."{Could you do Silver spoon for army?} Namjoon-ah what one is silver spoon?"

"Ah..baepsae, baepsae." Namjoon answers him.

"They want to see your hip thrusts." Yoongi teased, Hoseok's ears turning red.

Hoseok playfully shoves him. "Only if you dance with me." He challenges the eldest rapper

"I don't think I remember it all." Yoongi admits.

"I'll show you Hyung." Taehyung gets up, speaking the lyrics as he does the chorus.

"Ah, ah, okay okay. Let's go. Us three." Yoongi sets up his phone, placing the mic next to it, starting the song in the middle.

As the three distract army Jimin takes it as his chance to sneeze, pressing his lips tightly together to try to silence it, a squeak coming out.

"You need a tissue Jimin?" Namjoon whispers by his ear.

"No, no, I'm fine." Jimin sniffles. If he kept grabbing tissues, he'd worry army. He'd much rather try to suffer silently. "I might have to wear a mask when we do the signing event, but I don't want to ruin their photos for now.."

"Not might, you'll have to. We don't want to get them sick." Jin tells him sternly.

Jimin nods.

"Okay challenge done! Next question." Hoseok uses his hands to silence army.

Namjoon reaches in plucking out a purple piece of paper. "What are your hobbies outside of music? Ah.. you should know I love going to museums and I really want to travel more for pleasure. Jungkook-ah?"

"Hmm...I haven't really done much lately.. I'm just working out..ah! I took up boxing again.. me and Jimin-sii both have."

The crowd cheers, and several army in the back ask for a demonstration.

"Boxing now? No, no we don't have gloves." Jungkook makes an excuse, not wanting to make Jimin use up what little energy he had.

The army in front agrees, shouting no, spending the message that Jimin wasn't doing well down the line, whispering and telling them to pass it on.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Jungkook asks curiously, noticing them leaning close to each other.

"Maybe they are planning a surprise for us?" Taehyung shrugs.

"Hah..hah.." Jimin covers his face, eyes watering as his breath hitching as another sneeze builds up, this time he didn't stop the sneeze. It just never came. He tried to rub the pain away, to no avail.

"Jiminie, do you need a break?" Taehyung asks when he sees him, but Jimin shakes his head, folding his hands in front of him.

"No.. no I just thought I had to sneeze, but I guess I don't." Jimin smiles through the pain. "What was the next question?"

"Ah, it was about pets, but you don't have any, so you're good. Here. Drink some water.." Taehyung passes him a waterbottle, taking over the conversation gushing over his dear Yeotan. "My mom sent me the cutest video yesterday. Hang on, army.. I'll show you." Taehyung pulls out his phone, searching for the small video and posting it on his social."Ta-da. It's done!" He smiles, watching the crowd rush on their phone to see where he posted it.

Jimin takes a drink of water, trying to soothe his throat. With all the mucus draining into his throat from his sniffling,it was irritating his throat, and Taehyung could hear it. He looks down, coughing while army was busy watching the clip Tae posted.

Hoseok reaches for Jimin's hand, giving it a squeeze. "You okay, Mini?"

"Yes. I think I need to go blow my nose, though.." Jimin admits, not wanting to continue to make himself worse.

"Go Jiminie, it's okay. We can handle the questions from here. We know each other well enough if they have any questions specifically for you." Hoseok reassures him.

Jimin gets up, leaving quickly to the bathroom. "Heh..heh'tichi! Heit..chi!" He sneezes into his hands, grimacing with the sticky mucus sprays onto them. "Ugh..this is the worst.." he sighs, trying to turn on the sink without touching the knob with his sticky hands.

"Here.. let me do it."

"Aiish!"Jimin jumps when he hears a voice in the bathroom with him, reaching to the faucet.

"Ah. I'm sorry Jimin hyung.. i just saw you struggling..." The young man bows. He was one of the Army invited to the event.

"Are you okay Jimin-sii?" One of the security rush to him when they hear his surprised yell,ready to protect him, but Jimin shakes his head.

"No, no, it's okay. I just didn't know he was already in here. It's okay." Jimin tells him, going back to washing the goo from his hands. "He was in here first.."

He backs off, but doesn't leave the bathroom.

"Here, Jimin hyung.. ah, Jimin-sii." He holds out a small packet of tissues from his fanny pack. "I'll see..see you when you come ba-back out. Feel better soon." He stammered nervously to look at Jimin in his eyes, leaving the restroom.

"Ah, thank you.." Jimin smiles. "Cute.." He was thankful that he didn't overstep his boundaries. He could've easily watched him from the stall until he left. He opened the tissue packet, blowing his nose, needing two tissues to clear it.

"Are you ready to go back?" The bodyguard asks when Jimin finishes washing his hands a second time.

"Yes. Thank you.." Jimin quickly returns to the table with the others sneezing three more times along the way, taking his seat. "Sorry, Army." He speaks into his microphone.

"It's okay!" They call back to him.

After a few games with the members they reached the part he was most nervous for, going face to face with army for the fan sign.

They lined up in a single file line, security keeping everything under control.

"Hello."Jungkook greets the first army warmly.

Jimin's breath hitched for another sneeze, but he refused to let it out, clamping his mouth shut, closing his eyes tightly as the pressure builds. It took a few more moments for the pain to dull down.

"Jimin-sii?" The young army girl asks shyly. "Are you okay?"

"Sorry..sorry.. I'm okay.." he bows his head, taking the book she offered him, signing the page presented to him. "What's your name?"

"It's Anki.."

"That's a pretty name.." Jimin's voice cracks halfway through.

"Feel better soon Oppa.. thank you. Uhm.. this is for you.." she presents him a crochet chick. "Me and my older sister made this for you.." she gestures to the older woman behind her who was giving Taehyung a stuffed bear in a tiger hat.

"You made this for me?" Jimin's eyes widen, gently running his hand across the stuffed animal. "Thank you so..heh..heh.." Jimin hides his face behind the plush, holding the sneeze back. "Ah..sorry.. Thank you.."

"It's okay if you need to sneeze.. i don't mind and either will my sister." Anki reassures him, moving on to Hoseok.

"Hello Jimin-sii." Anki's sister greets him. "Thank you for being here.."

"Thank you for waiting for us and for this beautiful gift.." Jimin hugs the chick to his chest. "It's really cute."

"That makes me happy. It took a month to finish all seven of them." She smiles brightly, passing him an old poster.

"Ah..this was..ah..heh..heh..Sorry.." Jimin sniffles forcing the sneeze back down, using a tissue to wipe his nose before signing.

"It's okay. You can't help getting sick. Just take care of yourself for me.." she folds her poster back up, moving to Hoseok, pulling out a stuffer squirrel, J-hope squealing happily at the kind gesture.

I don't remember the line moving this fast before...

Jimin was relieved it was going by quickly, greeting each army with a kind smile despite putting a mask on, engaging in small talk despite the raging headache and constant itch in the tip of his nose, forcing his sinuses to drain into the back of his throat, making him have to constantly clear his throat to get his voice out.

The boy he met in the bathroom approaches him. "I ah..I made this for you.." he offers him a goodie bag. "I..uhm.. I added some cough drops. I'm nearly over my cold.. so I don't need them anymore.."

"Thank you, that's very thoughtful...I'm okay though. Don't worry." Jimin ruffles through the bag, smiling when he pulls out the small collection of stickers having various memes from run bts.

"Please, Jimin-sii, you don't have to hide it.. you will worry us more if you keep hurting yourself.." He reached for Jimin's hand. "It's okay, to not be okay.."

Jimin squeezes the boy's hand. "It seems there's no hiding it, huh? Alright. I'll keep that in mind.."

Jimin stopped trying to hold back his sneezes when it was too painful, sneezing into a tissue. Army tried not to make a big deal about it, only giving him a quick bless you.

The fanmeet came to an end, the boys bidding farewell to army.

"Thank you for coming!" Namjoon gathers his members for one final bow. Jimin felt shaky on his feet, arms around Hoseok and Taehyung to help support him.

"Get well soon Park Jimin, We love you!" Army chant. Jimins eyes overflow with emotions tearing up. "Thank you army.. next time.. I hope to be able to give you my all.."

#bts sickfic #bts #bts boys #bts fanfic #bts sickie #bts taehyung #bts namjoon #bts jhope #bts jungkook #bts jimin #jimin sickie #bts snz #bts sick fic #bts yoongi #bts jung jungkook #kpop snz #kpop sickfic

23 notes · View notes

axratsffxivwrite · 1 month ago

Text

FFXIV Write Day 30 - Two Heads Are Better Than One

One minute, he was slipping through the crowds of Lowtown, self-consciously adjusting his bandana and keeping his head down. The next, a girl his age had grasped him by the back of his shirt and was dragging him down a side alley, away from the main thoroughfare.

"Wait!" Marcellus cried out as he stumbled along. She had an iron grip and the upper body strength to match; Garlean blood or no, his gentle upbringing did little to help him wrench free.

The girl shoved him against the wall and let go at once. Marcellus grunted as his front collided with the hard brick, then turned to face his would-be kidnapper.

The barrel of a pistol stared back at him. The girl, fair hared and bright eyed, kept her gaze fixed firmly on his face.

Marcellus swallowed. "What… what do you want?"

"You're the boy calling himeslf Trelik, aren't you?" She replied, her eyes narrowed. "The Treliks are dead. Everyone knows that. The Garleans killed them all."

No. Not all.

"Adi, my mother, she's alive." Marcellus insisted, holding his hands up deferentially. "Adi Trelik. Maybe she was the only one that lived, I don't know, but I know where she is."

"Well? Where is she?"

"I— I can't tell you."

She leaned closer, the barrel inching closer to his face.

"I can't. I don't even know who you are! Why would I tell you where my mother is?! So you can shoot her, next?"

The girl grimaced, as if she had taken a bite out of a sour fruit. For a moment, she said nothing, visibly weighing her options as she looked him over.

"…Turn around." She ordered, jerking the flintlock to one side.

"What?"

"Turn. Around."

Marcellus hesitated. Every instinct he had was screaming run, run for your life, but he knew listening would only get him shot. Instead he turned, slowly, one step at a time, until he faced the wall once more. He could hear the girl shuffling behind him moments before she grabbed his wrists and wrenched his arms behind his back.

"Ow! What are—"

"Shut up." She snapped, binding his wrists with scratchy cordage.

Fear rose in his chest. The longer he let this go, the lesser his chances of escape, of survival. She pulled the cord so tight his wrists ached before she tied it off.

He took a shaky breath, eyes fixated on the grimy stone wall in front of him. "…I can leave, I can… I can pretend we never met! All you need do is let me go and we can pretend this never happened."

"Sorry, Trelik." She replied. "Ser Kutok wants to see you."

"Ser who—?"

She shoved a canvas sack over his head and tied it off around his neck. He jerked aside, as if to free himself, but the cord around his neck tightened as he fought.

He couldn't breathe. The more he struggled the tighter it became, until his vision filled with spots. He pulled one last time, falling to a knee, before dizziness overtook him. He felt her hand on his neck, pulling the cord loose again.

Air. Musty Lowtown air may as well have been a crisp mountain breeze as he gasped, shaking his head violently in an effort to escape.

"Stop." She grabbed the back of his shirt again. "The less you fight, the quicker this goes. I don't want to give you brain damage but I will knock you out if I need to."

"…if you kill me, nothing good will come of it for you."

"If you are who you say you are, then we don't need to worry 'bout that."

She hauled him up by the back of his shirt and shoved him along. He focused on the twists and turns she took him on. First a left, then right, then another right, then a left, then straight for some time, then right, left twice, then right…

This must be the most convoluted route to go straight down an alley.

He heard a metal grate rattle and squeak as it was forced open, moments before she shoved him so hard he almost tripped. Staggering forward, he managed to slow himself enough to remain on his feet, and listened.

Wood creaked. Cloth shifted. The grate clanged shut behind him. The girl's footsteps approached. The cord around his neck was loosened, then she grasped at the top of his head and tore the sack off. Marcellus let out a cry of protest as he felt the bandana go with it.

He barely had time to adjust to the lamplight before someone had ahold of his hair, and a blade pressed to his throat.

Ilms from his face was the snout of a furious, bronze Bangaa, his well-honed blade pressed against Marcellus's throat. He was larger than most Bangaa Marcellus had seen in Lowtown; not the starving peasant, but a warrior with the thick muscle and thicker hide to accompany it. Even his simple vest and pants could not hide the soldier's build.

He couldn't see who had a hold of his hair, but he assumed it was the girl; she was the only person he had heard behind him. She wrenched his head back, exposing his throat as he let out a panicked cry.

"Please," he begged, "please, let me live."

The Bangaa hissed at him, "why should I suffer an impostor to live? You are no Trelik, you Imperial dog."

"I-I am, I am the son of Adi Trelik." He insisted. "Please, believe me."

The pressure on his neck eased up. The Bangaa's face visibly softened, his eyes widened in surprise, and he took a step back. He scanned Marcellus's face for what felt like an eternity, as if only now taking him in for the first time.

Past the Bangaa, a deeper voice called out, "what's the verdict, Kutok?"

"…he looks like Delima." Kutok lifted his blade, tilting Marcellus's head up. "…Jawad's jaw, too."

A man stepped into Marcellus's view, dark skinned and wearing a simple robe, head covered by a turban. He scratched at his dark beard as he, too, examined Marcellus thoroughly.

"Eyes are off," the man pointed out, his gaze drifting to Marcellus's third eye, "in more ways than one."

"I…" Marcellus swallowed, "I get those from my father. All… all three of them, yes."

Kutok hissed, harsher, this time, like a snake about to strike. "Where is this man who laid his hands on Adi, that I may cut them from his body and shove them down his throat?"

Marcellus flinched. "It's— it's not like that. My mother was a whore, she… she did what she had to do, damn it."

This seemed to catch the Bangaa off guard. His eyes searched Marcellus's face, as if desperately searching for a tell.

Unable to find one, he snapped, "where is she?"

"Why? So you can kidnap her? Tie her up and drag her down an alley? Threaten her? What are you? Bandits? Muggers? Is this a ransom?"

The man in the back laughed. "Ransom? What worth are you to ransom?"

Ah. Said too much.

Marcellus shut his mouth and said nothing. The man furrowed his brow and looked at him once more. Kutok glanced sidelong toward the man, and Marcellus could see in their eyes that they had both registered the same thing he had.

Kutok turned his gaze back once more. He lowered his sword to his side. "You first, boy. Who are you, really?" "I told you, I'm Adi's son."

"And your father is some no-one Imperial who wanted naught but to warm his bed?"

"Close enough."

Kutok leaned down, his eyes level with Marcellus's.

"I am no fool, so do not treat me as such. You can tell me who you are, or you can tell me where Adi is so I may find out for myself."

Marcellus swallowed, staring back into the Bangaa's dark eyes. He thought of his mother and guilt welled up in his chest. He was going to die here, he was certain. She would never know why, or where. The idea of these people finding her, hurting her, however, was far worse than any thoughts of his own death.

"No." He replied. "You cannot have her, I will not tell you where my mother is."

"…either you are protecting her, or you are lying." Kutok observed.

"You were surprised," Marcellus pointed out, "when I said her name. You said it yourself — I look like my grandparents. Delima and Jawad, those were her parents. I know that. How do I know that? Maybe you will try to tell yourself I'm merely clever, maybe it's a lucky guess, but I knew that. Better question is… how do you know them? Unless… you were a knight, too. You have the sword of one, and you're built like a career soldier. There aren't many Knights of the Order of Dalmasca anymore. They were either folded into the Legion or slaughtered. Which makes you a man on the run."

The man chuckled. "If nothing else, he's a clever one."

The Bangaa scrutinized him for a long moment. His eyes scanned over Marcellus's features, pausing uncomfortably long on that third eye, before he sheathed his blade, turned away, walked across the room, and sat himself down on a crate to face him once more.

"…release him, Amelia." He ordered.

The girl immediately let go of his hair. Marcellus straightened up, shaking his head as the bindings were untied. A sigh of relief escaped him unbidden as the pressure released from his wrists and the cordage fell away. He shook out his hands, then rubbed at his wore, rope-burned wrists.

Only now did he truly take in the room around him. The walls were adorned in ancient, faded geometric patterns, with faded, intricate tile work beneath decades, if not centuries, of dirt and decay. Ragged curtains hung across the corners, with four large bunks pressed against one wall. The rest of the room was a mess of discarded storage vessels; crates and barrels in various states of decay, a half-collapsed wooden shelving unit, and a few clay urns caked in layers upon layers of dust, until their adornments were impossible to make out with any clarity.

Marcellus swallowed. "…may I go, then?"

"No." Kutok replied. "You have figured me out, but until I figure you out, this is where you will stay. I made a promise, you see. A long time ago. I told Delima I would find Adi. I said I would look after her."

Marcellus shifted uncomfortably, running a thumb over the burn on his wrist.

Kutok sighed and averted his gaze, "that Adi would be made to bear a half-blooded son would stand as testament to my failure."

"I've been called worse things, but I don't know that forced is how my mother would describe it. She's… she's happy. Bittersweetly, maybe, but she's looked after. My father sees to that."

"Does he, now?" Kutok looked back to Marcellus, an appraising look in his eye. "Who is this miracle Garlean, kind enough to look after what he must see as some Dalmascan whore?"

"She hasn't been that for years. He loves her, damn it."

Kutok seemed unconvinced, but did not lend a voice to such thoughts. Instead, he sighed.

"He better, lest I make good on old promises." He shifted his weight, the crate creaking under him. "You have a forename, yes? I cannot rightfully keep calling you boy."

He hesitated.

Kutok insisted, "you have our names. You could do enough damage with those. Give us something in return."

"…Marce—" He caught himself, stuttered, and corrected, "…Marsil. Marsil Trelik."

"Marsil." Kutok tsked softly. "And what is your true name, boy?"

He said nothing.

The man crossed his arms. "Must be someone important, if he jumped so quickly to ransom."

Kutok let out a low, thoughtful growl as he worked his jaw. "To ransom, we would need extend ourselves too far. Let me place my cards upon the table, such as they are, Marsil. If you are here as a spy to rat out me and mine with the names of long dead companions, then yes, you have reason to fear. If you are truly naught but a man with a familiar name, who has crossed paths with fugitives through no fault of his own, you are safe within these walls, as any Trelik would be. Delima was as a sister to me, a dear friend and companion, one which I would have gladly traded places with. I will not harm her flesh and blood, so long as her flesh and blood does not bark like a Garlean dog."

"Funny," Marcellus remarked, "the Garleans call me a dog, too. Mutt, really, usually right after the word savage."

He glanced around the room and gestured to an overturned barrel. "…might I sit?"

Kutok inclined his head. Marcellus stepped to the side and sat himself down atop the barrel. Still, his mind raced, trying to figure out an escape that didn't involve giving up his mother. The girl — Amelia? — was between him and the metal grate that served as a door. Kutok was close enough to tackle him, certainly. The third individual, the dark-skinned man, he was a mystery. He seemed unarmed, but that meant very little in a den of ne'er-do-wells.

Marcellus explained, "I'm here because I tire of it. My own brothers see me as nothing more than a dog to be kicked. My mother is a pariah in our own house, tolerated by the family only because my father loves her. He'd marry her, if it wouldn't further ruin his reputation. Despite it all, she's content; she lives in comfort in exchange for the ignominy of Garlean derision."

Kutok's head tilted as Marcellus spoke, his eyes narrowing; less in suspicion, Marcellus thought, but in confusion. As if he were trying to read a book in which the page numbers were not only out of order, but unlabeled.

Marcellus sighed. "Cards upon the table? Those are mine. I'm a bastard, a whoreson, and a runaway. Maybe, maybe my father would pay a ransom. I don't know anymore. It's been weeks since I have seen either of them. Marsil may as well be my name for all that my name is worth."

The man cleared his throat. "Kutok."

Kutok turned his head, keeping one eye fixed on Marcellus, but he quirked an ear to listen.

"The senator's son. We'd thought it was Lyre's sect, but maybe…"

"Ahhh..."

Shit.

Marcellus's entire body tensed. He prepared himself to run, to dart for the door, to pray Amelia's aim was poor, to pray he could outrun the much larger Bangaa. Kutok focused his gaze solely on Marcellus once more.

"Marcellus bas Ferrum, was it?" He clicked his tongue. "Yes, the look on your face says as much."

Amelia spoke up, "so we kill him, then, right? We can't just let Ferrum's son go, he'll—"

Kutok hissed at her and she retreated back a step, silenced instantly. He scrutinized Marcellus for a long, hard moment, then slowly rose from his crate and began to walk toward the door. He paused and half turned, looking over his shoulder at Marcellus one final time.

"I will be back after sundown. Until then, a question, and a proposition."

"…yes?"

"Do you wish to be free, Marcellus? To live not as a second-class citizen, but as a man worthy of respect? An equal? Dalmasca once treated all her peoples with tolerance and acceptance. Would you fight for that?"

Marcellus stared, but said nothing.

Kutok continued, "if so, I am willing to train you, as Delima would have. If you wish to honor to her memory, fight with us. Prove that your blood yet runs Dalmascan red."

"I don't even know what that means."

"No, but you will."

"If I decline?"

"Then by the time you make it back to the surface, we will be long gone and your soldiers will never find us." Kutok turned away and placed his hand upon the grate. "You have a choice; to return to life as you knew it, as a second-class Garlean, or to embrace your Dalmascan blood and learn who you could truly be. I will not choose for you, but I pray you choose wisely."

Again, Marcellus said nothing. Kutok pressed no further, shoving open the rickety old grate. He disappeared into the shadows of the alley, and Amelia shut the grate behind him.

She turned to the man and let out an indignant huff. "Am I not good enough, then? He wants another apprentice?"

The man chuckled. "Just think of how much he could get done with two of you around here. You might even learn to work as part of a team. Two heads, and all that."

She let out disapproving noise, side-eyeing Marcellus suspiciously.

He stared back. "…what? You nearly strangled me; you'll not have any sympathy from me."

"You shouldn't have struggled."

"You kidnapped me!"

"So?"

He gave her an incredulous look.

Amelia shrugged. "I only did what Kutok told me to."

"Right. Of course."

The man cleared his throat. "Enough, enough. Feel free to make yourself comfortable until Kutok gets back, Marsil; we have the whole day before the sun sets on the upper city, and no, you won't be leaving until then."

Marcellus let out a frustrated noise, but thought better than to protest.

The bells passed in boredom and frustration. Every plan he might have hatched was thwarted by Amelia's perceptive gaze. Instead of embrace the definition of insanity, he settled in amidst the decaying crates and pondered Kutok's question.

Why had he left home, if not to be free? If not to escape the expectations and the assumptions that followed him and his blackened third eye, why had he come to Lowtown? Returning home would mean returning to a world in which he would always be treated as barely better than dirt, where he would forever be an outcast and an abomination.

Amelia and the mystery man treated him with suspicion, certainly, but he had already proven himself a liar. Nevermind that he was kin to their greatest enemy, the son of an imperial senator. They had every reason to distrust him.

By the time the grate clattered open again and Kutok strode back in, weary from his walk, he had his answer. Before Kutok could so much as open his mouth, Marsil Trelik spoke.

"I'll do it." Marsil raised his head, staring up at the Bangaa from his seat on the floor. "If you really think freedom possible, I'll fight for it. I've already left that life behind; not much left to lose, right?"

Kutok scrutinized him for a moment, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Then welcome home, Marsil, son of Adi, heir to House Trelik."

#ffxivwrite2024 #ffxiv #marsil trelik #kutok #amelia roschen #this prompt got away from me a little bit but hey i had fun #id meant to focus more on Marsil and Amelia getting to know each other but uhhhh #3000 words to get Kutok to trust the little bastard

3 notes · View notes

swampstew · 1 month ago

Text

What's the Magic Word?

Chapter 7: Training with the Kid Pirates Smut towards the end - if you recognize the text (and from the last chapter too), this is one of the first chapters I pulled and edited to be read as a self insert in the Eustass Kid X Reader series, titled Wet Dreams :)

Songs in this chapter are by Bad Bunny: Te Deseo Lo Mejor and Lo Siento BBY :/

The pirates set sail to their original pit stop destination once they had properly dealt with their rivals on the last island. Kid had ordered the crew to store the stolen goods, clean the ship and do other chores as they travelled. He locked himself up in his workshop working on something special.

Rowena tended to her plants and used her magic to help the crew attend to their chores. By the time dinner was served she was properly exhausted. Cleaning her dishes, she headed to the infirmary to grab her tarot deck. She wasn’t in there long when Kid entered the room without knocking.

“I could have been changing you know,” she rolled her eyes at his boldness.

“Then I would be a very lucky man but you’re clothed and I have news.” She tilted her head at him. “Since you’re gonna be here for a while I figured you could use an actual room. I had the guys clear out a storage room for you. It’s not huge but it’s comfortable. Come with me.”

He helped carry her bags to her new room, which ended up being in the same hall as his and Killer’s private cabins. "Strictly to make it a one-trip operation nothing more," he had growled.

It was a small space but she was thankful for the privacy. Rowena explored the new room, running her hands on the furniture inside.

“I made all this,” he said sitting down on the bed as he gestured to the furniture.

“This is so thoughtful Kid, thank you it’s amazing.”

“It was nothing,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s…not all. I kept you in the dark long enough but I’ll tell you where we’re going now. I’m not sure how you’ll take this so sit down.” He patted the spot next to him. She sat next to him, eyeing him cautiously.

“I don’t know shit about being a teacher or a mentor or whatever. That said, you’ve been put under my care so I have to keep you safe and find a way to train you while we continue our journey for the One Piece. On top of that you’re a witch, not my area of expertise. I had Killer do some research and he believes he found where the Island of Thorns is, and it turns out we’re not that far from it at all.”

Rowena’s eyes shot open and she made a noise but he held his hand up. “Given my options, I have no other leads on how to train you except starting at literal square one. We’ll be there in a day or so.”

“What exactly do you hope to find besides a new way to traumatize me?” she asked, eyes narrowed at him.

He winced from her statement; gritting his teeth and taking a measured breath, “Worst case we find nothing, best case we find something useful. I know you have bad memories from what happened but nothing like that will happen this time. You have m…-us with you.”

He placed his hand on the mattress next to her hand. She lingered for a moment before standing up and walking away, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Be mad if you want but we’re doing this. Also, you’ll be training every day. We’re gonna build up your sword skills and hand to hand combat. You’ll be tested weekly and monthly, and if you’re not meeting my expectations then you’ll be put through double the training. You start tomorrow.” He got to his feet and crossed the room letting himself out.

Before he shut the door, “Rowena look at me – I’m doing this for you.”

𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧

Rowena did her morning routine through tears that hadn’t stopped falling since Kid told her of their next stop. Her head was pounding and her body was fatigued from exhaustion, not being able to get any sleep. Every time she had nodded off she was immediately awoken from night terrors and screams in her nightmares. She faltered on the last crane stance and heard a tsk behind her. She turned around.

“You look like shit.”

Silence.

“Go help Killer make breakfast and get yourself some coffee. We’re starting at 9.”

More silence but she turned and walked towards the galley. Kid frowned, he figured she would be upset about the situation but he didn’t like the cold shoulder treatment.

She was mute in the galley while she chopped up vegetables for the morning omelets.

“He can be a downright asshole sometimes but he means well, just doesn’t think things through all the time.” Killer prepped the stove and started cracking eggs. “If you need someone to talk to, I’m a pretty good listener.”

“I don’t have much to say,” she muttered, impaling the cutting board with her knife.

“Maybe not right now but if you change your mind.”

“Was I supposed to be like ‘Gee wow Kid I am sooooo stoked you’re dragging me back to where my family was murdered’ and give him a high five like he’s doing me this huge favor? This fucking sucks.”

“Maybe he thinks we’ll find something useful in whatever was left behind.”

“Everything was set on fire. There is nothing left.”

“Didn’t you tell Hancock that there had been a boat of people that landed on your island?”

“Yes but they had a home. They all came from a place called Dressrosa. They were gone before the attack; we had helped them rebuild their ship so they could leave our island.”

“We won’t know until we get there. Look we don’t know how to deal with you and if Kid thinks we can find something there that will help you than that’s where we’re doing. Think what you want of him but Kid has a brain and sometimes he’s on to something.” Adding the vegetables to the mix, he flipped the fluffy eggs and let them sizzle.

“You should know, he rarely does things for others. This is the first time he’s ever helped anyone outside of the crew. You should be grateful he’s taking care of you the way he is.”

He placed a finished omelet on a plate and handed it to Rowena. “Eat up, you’re gonna need it for today. I feel bad for you so I’ll give you an edge – today’s test is about assessing your strength level and abilities.”

She ate her meal and washed the dishes, “Thanks, guess I’ll go get ready.”

Exactly at 9, Rowena stepped out on the main deck. She kept her gaze on the floor as she made her way up to Kid. She had changed into a different outfit: she chose a pair of slim, black pants and a pair of combat boots. She was also wearing a purple crop top; her hair piled on the top of her head in a messy bun. Her swords were strapped to her back but her waist bag was gone.

Kid grunted acknowledgment at her before announcing: “Ok Witch – time to show us what you’re made of. The rules are, don’t kill my men and don’t sink my ship. The exercise is over when you knock everyone down or you get your ass handed to you. START!” he yelled out and across the ship his entire crew started to pop out of hiding places and dissented upon the Witch.

Blades came crashing down in the air as the Kid Pirates launched their attack, Rowena unsheathed her swords and parried the blades that came at her. She stayed on the defensive at first, letting the men chase her around as she blocked attacks left and right. Kid observed as she skillfully dodged most attacks and moved fluidly, getting through and under the assaults with relative ease.

“Running away won’t keep you safe. Show us how you fight!” Kid barked over the noise.

Rowena leapt into the air gracefully and as she arced over into her dissent, she swung her blades down at the pirates, knocking at least four enemy weapons from their grips in an instant; they went sailing into the air and Kid collected them with his power.

As for the men who lost their swords, Rowena wasn’t going to let them get away that easily. Charging forward, she rotated the grip on her swords and clenched her fists around her blade hilts, throwing punches. She caught two men with a strong right hook and knocked them down, while the others retreated warily.

A group of seven men surrounded her in a giant circle as they launched at her, running at full force. Before they could reach her, she dropped to the floor and used her hands to rotate her body as she swung out with her legs and kicked their knees out with shocking force. All seven men went down. Breathing very heavily now, she counted out the remaining crew. 16 men remained.

She took a deep breath and then ran like hell sword first into the next wave. In a flurry of moves so fast Kid’s head was whipping back and forth, she swept the floor with them. Her swords clashing against weapons as she knocked and kicked his men down on their asses. 10 remained.

“Not bad but what happens if your enemy takes your weapons?” he raised his hand and using his power, pulled everyone’s weapons to his right hand.

Rowena rubbed her palms from where her blades had been ripped out, hands drifting up her arms to touch the superficial wounds she had received. She was not going to let them beat her. She flexed both hands and let out a hmph as she used her magic to call up chains of sea water that snaked up the sides of the ship.

Not wanting to play her hand too early, she ran at the first few pirate to her left and started throwing more punches, which swiftly changed into mixed martial arts. She took another three men down before her senses screamed at her to duck.

She dropped her neck and head just in time as Killer had silently come up behind her and swung his scythes at her. Strands of her hair didn’t make it and she glared at the masked man as she flung her body backwards with a backflip.

Killer rushed towards her and Rowena flung her hands out, yelling ��Sea Prison!” Her saltwater chains shot up and snaked their way on to the deck as they shackled themselves to the remaining men – they were wrapped up and left on their sides as the water drenched their clothes yet kept them imprisoned. Killer managed to dodge the chains. Rowena tsked, she had miscounted how many chains to make.

With just them remaining and Rowena not having any weapons, the two walked in a circle watching the other. Killer decided to charge first and as he swung his weapons down and slashed at her, Rowena made tiny cries and yelps as she barely dodged each one, surprised at the large man’s speed and agility.

Cornering her against the rail, Killer raised his scythes at her before letting out a quick “sorry about this!” and the weapons struck down.

She twisted her body against the railing, dodging the attack and moving sideways while shooting a ball of ocean water on his scythes. Rowena leapt up on the rails and blew a gust of air from her lungs at his weapons; using her hands, she gripped the backs of the scythes and sank them deeper into the wooden railing as she cartwheeled over the Massacre Soldier. Killer found his weapons rusted over and stuck to the railing. He began tugging them but they barely budged.

“No, I’M sorry about THIS," Rowena popped up behind him and pulled her arm back, half twisting her body and punching him in the ribs.

Kid heard an audible crack as Killer leaned against the railing. He had enough. He jumped from the upper deck from where he had been watching and landed on the main deck with a huge thunk.

“That wasn’t bad but you should learn how to count. You still have one more opponent and it’s me,” he sneered at her. Kid held up her blade and charged at the Witch. Rowena screamed as she dodged the attack, wood splintered behind her as Kid destroyed the railing.

Rowena had no choice but to dance around his attacks with her depleted energy. Weapons were useless against Kid and she wouldn’t dare try to physically fight him as she was sure he would crush or slice her in half. She came up with a plan and prayed it would work. Kid chased after her as she made her way to the bow of the ship and she jumped up on top of the dinosaur skull figurehead that adorned the front of his beloved Victoria Punk.

Kid leapt after her showing no signs of slowing down. He swung the sword down at her and having no alternative, Rowena shut her eyes and used her arm to block, willing her body to defend her against the ginger maniac. After a moment when she realized nothing had happened, she opened her eyes and couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her arm blocked the blade as if it was made of unbreakable stone. Kid glared down at her as he pushed down on the blade but it made no difference, it did not cut her.

Not wanting to waste a golden opportunity, Rowena used her other hand and made a motion like she was going to slap Kid across the face. Instead, he was hit with a gush of sea water and he slumped forward suddenly very weakened. He collapsed on top of Rowena and they fell flat on the skull, the large redhead nearly crushed her body.

Muttering, “We’ll call this one a draw. That was a dirty but respectable countermove. You would fit in well with my crew.”

“It didn’t quite go as planned,” she wheezed.

Lifting his head weakly to look at her before softlt dropping face first into the crook of her neck, “I’m not complaining,” he murmured, speaking into her exposed skin.

Her flesh broke out in goosebumps. He propped himself up the best he could, his eyes bore into hers as he hovered over her.

Kiss me!, a small voice in her head screamed at him.

She turned bright red at the sudden thought. Where did that come from? Sure, he was an attractive man there was no denying that; but he was also a grade A asshole. A rude jackass who…had some moments where he showed an actual human side to her. But that didn’t change the fact that he was mean and hot and – Rowena became very aware of how close his face was to hers.

Kid’s eyes roamed around on her face and they settled on her lips. He leaned in closer and for a second she thought he was going to do it. Instead, he cupped her chin, gingerly brushing her full bottom lip with his thumb. He subconsciously licked his own lips.

“Next time I won’t be so easy on you,” he picked himself off her. She was still on her back, her hand touching her face where he had touched her, face burning.

Helping her to her feet, they walked back to the main deck together where his crew were licking their wounds. Dismissing everyone for a night off, Kid helped Killer to his feet, and with Rowena holding the blonde man up on his opposite side, they dragged him to the infirmary. The doctor, who had been one of the first men knocked out, was already waiting for his patients. His name is UK and he eagerly accepted Killer into his care. Rowena was ready to go back to her room but Kid stopped her.

“Everyone is beat, let’s go make them food for later and then you can have the night off too.” She followed him to the galley.

“You know how to cook?” She asked.

He turned red before gruffly saying, “Yes I know how but for everyone’s safety its best if I just supervise.”

She smirked at him while she shuffled around looking for ingredients.

Once Rowena had everything she wanted, she laid out her tools and tied her hair back. She was going to make macaroni and cheese from scratch the way Sanji taught her. As she started making pasta dough, she asked Kid if there was anything to break up the silence.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a teacup-sized snail with a speaker attached to the shell. He brought it up to her, a huge grin on his face.

“Been working on this one for a while. It will play any song you want, you just have to tell it the song or artist you want,” he proudly showed off.

“I just need tell it what I want to hear and a song will play?” she looked at it dubiously. He nodded excitedly. Rowena thought long and hard before whispering a musician to the creature. It blinked at her. To her utter delight, the sound of music flowed out and as the guitar riff started playing, she gasped.

“Kid, this is like magic!”

“I don’t know about that but I’m glad it’s working. These snails are known for having long range telepathic links, so I figure if they can make calls and mimic callers, they should be able to play music. This is the first time it’s been tried out though,” he rubbed his neck.

She kneaded the dough and softly sang along to the verses while he listened; she had a pleasant voice, even if he couldn’t understand the lyrics. When he asked her what they meant, she smiled at him and restarted the song. She followed along translating the lines.

I know I’m a bastard / That I don’t deserve your forgiveness I swear it’s not my intention / But if you hear this song I wish you the best / I hope you forget me I know I was the worst / And you deserve to be happy I’m leaving before it’s too late / And your heart breaks all over again I know I’m a coward / If you want, you can act like you don’t know me, that’s fine

Kid watched her as she cooked up a storm while switching back to singing in the native language. He enjoyed how she moved along to the beat; she looked sincerely happy listening to the foreign music.

As the next song played he helped her clean the cutlery while she bopped to the hip hop beat. She started portioning out the meal into two large containers, saving the pot on the stove with enough food for herself and Kid. He carried one pot and used his ability to bring out the silverware while Rowena struggled carrying the second pot to the mess hall tables. They re-entered the galley and she quickly cleaned so Killer wouldn’t have to. Finally done, she was about to grab herself a bowl and go to her room when Kid held her back, wanting to show her something.

Picking up the last pot, he made his way into the walk-in storage room that held all the provisions, strolling to a door in the back. He unlocked it with his power and she followed him into a huge room.

“You have a direct hall to the pantry?” she giggled, “that’s honestly something I’d expect from Luffy.”

The song changed once more although sounding slightly muffled as they shuffled into the room. He grunted at her, putting the food on his table.

Taking in the room, she noted handsome furniture decorated the cabin, a large bay window gave a breathtaking view of the ocean. His king-sized bed was messy, sheets crumpled and in disarray, she noted the giant K that was embroidered in gold on the wine-red fabric headboard.

“Nice room, very on brand” she nodded in approval.

He pointed to a door behind her, “There’s a private bathroom, you can use it whenever you want to shower instead of sharing the bath house with the knuckle heads.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aye,” he muttered, he had a strange look on his face.

The music played softly in the background as he walked up to her, shrugging his coat off. Rowena waited for him, not moving only watching him. He reached out, pulling her into his bare chest tightly, and he pressed his mouth against hers in a rough kiss. Her first reaction was shock, which quickly morphed into acceptance, angling her head and deepening their kiss.

Lo siento, bebé (eh, eh, eh) No trates de enamorarme o no te hago coro (eh, eh, eh) Hace tiempo que de nadie yo no me enamoro (yo no me enamoro) Yo estoy puesto pa uste', pa hacerlo otra ve', pero mi tiempo e'oro Yo por nadie me ajoro

He walked them backwards until they were flush against the bathroom door, their lips not leaving each other. He had her pinned as he ran a hand down her side, she let out a sigh. His other hand was placed firmly on her waist, her hand was gripping his arm as if afraid he would let go. She snaked her other arm around his neck, pulling him in deeper. Using his strength, he scooped the Witch up, her legs wrapping around his waist as they continued making out, light gasps and pants barely audible over the song as it switched.

He carried Rowena to his bed laying her down softly, he covered her body with his own and started trailing kisses down her jaw and throat, his maroon lipstick leaving stains on her skin as she shivered from his touch. She reached both hands into his hair and pulled him back up where she peppered his face and mouth with kisses, pushing his goggles aside.

She arched her back, her breasts pushing against his chest and he let out a groan, placing one giant hand on her back to keep her against him while he ground his body on hers, pushing her deeper into the bed. She let out a gasp as he rutted his pelvis into her. She let one arm fall between them as she grabbed the belts and tugged them off. Kid began unzipping his pants when someone knocking on the door. They both ignored it, panting into each other’s mouths, hands desperate on each other’s bodies.

The knocking persisted, Killer’s voice coming from the other side, “Kid, we need to talk.”

Groaning angrily into her neck, he pushed himself off the bed. Bringing Rowena up, he kissed her again and whispered into her ear “Go jump in the shower, we’ll finish this later.”

She let out a small whine but went inside the bathroom, starting the shower up. Kid wiped his mouth and pulled his belts back on, stomping to the door.

“What do you want?”

“I’m just swinging by to inform my Captain about the general rules of hospitality for long-term guests.”

“Such as?”

“Making sure they feel comfortable, establishing healthy boundaries, not solely thinking with your dick. Pretty standard stuff.”

“I’m not thinking with my dick,” he growled, getting in Killer’s face.

“Your pants are unzipped.”

“Fuck off.”

Killer sighed in exasperation, “Don’t forget, she’s still a Straw Hat. She won’t be with us forever.” He walked away.

Kid slammed the door shut, pressing his forehead against the wood. He hated knowing that his best friend was right. He stayed where he was until he heard the shower shut off. Straightening himself up, erection fully gone, he took a seat at his table grabbing a fork and eating directly from the pot.

Poking her head out of the bathroom, she padded out wrapped in a large towel.

“Gonna get dressed, be back in a few,” she walked out.

Kid grunted at her, wincing at himself for not knowing how to do anything other than animalistic noises when he was moody. He tried to distract himself with the food and his blueprints but all he really wanted was for Rowena to come through the door and kiss him, picking up where they left off. His ears turned pink as he thought about how soft and plush her body felt against his. Ugh why am I acting like such a sap. Moments later he got his wish, a light knocking coming from the door.

“Enter,” he commanded, still eating.

“Did you leave any for me or do I need to fight your crew again?”

“Oh, I didn’t think to stop. Not used to sharing,” he answered sheepishly, letting his fork clatter in the empty pot. “Fucking delicious though, you need to teach Killer that.”

“That was enough for six people!” Rowena cried.

Kid shrugged, “Go find something else to eat and get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” he looked back at his sheets, pencil in hand. After a moment he heard the door close and he sighed with relief. Maybe she was doing witchy shit to his brain to fuck with him, that had to be the reason for everything.

Rowena found some fruit in the pantry and went up to the crow’s nest, confusion rolling around her mind. Heat was inside on watch and was surprised she came in.

“You replacing me for guard duty?”

“No sorry, I need a place to do some reading and didn’t want my cards to fly away,” she explained as she pulled her tarot deck.

He nodded, perched up on a red velvet bench that lined the wall of the enclosed space. Sitting on the ground, she began shuffling her cards, the silence broken slightly by the ruffling sounds.

Rowena laid her cards down in a romany spread, turning each card over she munched on her apple as she interpreted her cards; Heat watched from his peripheral, curiously watching. After some time, she gathered her cards back up and began to shuffle them again. She cut the deck in half and then prepared a pentagram spread. She spent several minutes interpreting the cards before shuffling them again. This time she did a series of three card spreads, not bothering to shuffle them again as she put the used cards to the side.

Heat wanted to ask her so many questions but didn’t want to interrupt her. Looking out at the window, he froze when she called out to him.

“Heat, why did you become a pirate?”

“Wh-what?”

“Why did you become a pirate? Why did you choose to leave behind your previous life and join Kid’s crew?”

“Why? Why does anyone do anything?”

“Humor me?”

Rubbing his shoulder he pondered his words, eyes searching the deep blue sea. “I was a kind of outcast back in the South Blue where I’m from. I didn’t have anybody. I survived by thieving, eventually made a name for myself but it was a harsh existence. By the time I joined Kid and Killer, I was ready for anything even if it meant death. I don’t have any regrets, don’t get the wrong idea. A pirate’s life is the life for me because it means I’m free.”

Rowena considered his words carefully, nodding.

“Why are you asking anyways?”

She got up and walked to where he sat, taking the seat opposite of him as she looked out at the dark horizon. Their reflections were pale in the glass.

“I’m trying to understand what it means to be a pirate. How I fit in as a Witch, and how I can help my friends achieve our goals. I had nothing when I met my crew - they saved my life and they make me feel like I can achieve my dreams. I want to be better and stronger for them but right now all I feel is sadness and anger.”

“Anger can be a powerful motivator. I’ve seen Kid do crazy stunts in peak anger and look how far he’s come.”

“I don’t actually know much about you guys. I’ve seen his bounty though.”

“Kid is a leave no survivors kind of guy.”

Rowena didn’t respond to that. She hastily stood up and said goodnight, heading towards her room dreading the arrival of the sunrise. A fitful night of sleep plagued her melancholic mood.

Darkness surrounded her again as she heard screams echoing. It was a cacophony of women screaming, men screaming, vile laughter and it scared her. She curled up in a ball on the floor as the noise overwhelmed her. Kishishshishi echoed loudly and her body began trembling. The laughter haunted her but then it began to change. The screaming began to morph into a harmony of laughing voices; not cruel or malicious but comforting, soothing even.

The darkness around her began to change too. It was no longer black and endless. She could see hues of purple, maroon and gold streaking through the darkness, blossoming out a rainbow of color.

‘Rowena’ a voice called out to her; she whipped her head looking for the source. It called her insistently and she began running, trying to find whomever it was. As she ran, she felt a hand grasp her shoulder, it felt familiar. ‘

I got you’ it said triumphantly.

Read on AO3

#eustass kid #eustass kid x rowena #what's the magic word?#eustasscaptainkid #one piece fanfiction #one piece #kid pirates #eustass kid x oc #firstmatesimp #rowena the witch #ao3 writer #eustass captain kid #raven's reading nook #ao3 fanfic #ao3 works

3 notes · View notes

bevswashere · 3 months ago

Text

Koi No Yokan

Chapter 28: After Graduation

March 2009 Two weeks later.

Graduation—a thirty minute meeting with all our instructors in which they handed us leather bound certificates, then told us to move out by the end of the month—was lackluster, to say the least. Then once it was over, I found myself unexpectedly saddened, stagnant. I realized there’s nothing left for me here, there hasn’t been for some time, and there’s also nothing to look forward to. No home to make a triumphant return, no family to share this occasion with. Nothing left to do except pack my things and wait for the wind to push me in the direction I should take.

I finish emptying my closet as Nanami knocks on the door, “I’ve finished packing,” he tells me.

“Already?” There’s two nights left before we’re expected to leave. Most of my things are tucked away in boxes, stuffed into a suitcase, with no destination in mind. The rest are spread out across the floor and piled atop my desk. “Are you sending them home?”

“Actually,” he opens the door wide and steps in. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about my plan.” He says, “I’m going into the city.”

“I figured.” The routes for Jujutsu are limited, an on-call sorcerer working from campus, a pay for hire like Mei-san or Satoru, or moving back with your clan to work from home. The third option was stripped from me some time ago. “Isn’t that why we’ve been packing all our stuff?” I finish folding the sweater in hand—an old birthday gift from Suguru, blue and soft—and force it into the suitcase. “I’ll go with you. There’s plenty of places in Tokyo.”

“No, I’m moving on from Jujutsu.”

I halt my efforts to fold my clothes. “What do you mean?”

Nanami takes a deep breath, lets his eyes focus on the floor. “There’s lots of starting jobs in finance that pay well. I’ve already found a place to put a deposit for rent. It’s not much but—”

“You’re leaving me?”

“No.” He takes a step closer, puts his hands up in caution, hoping to repair a situation that’s already been ruined. “It has nothing to do with you, Kaede-chan. It’s this life, it’s tiring. I have no intention to be like Mariko, we can still see and speak with each other regularly, and if you need anything at all—”

“You’re leaving me.” I can’t think straight. The room has become small, narrowed down to my only friend left, a final lifeline to my humanity, and it’s being pulled away, drawn out into the distance until I can’t see him anymore. “What did I do wrong?”

“You haven’t done anything. This isn’t about us.”

The air grows thin, pressing out of my lungs at too quick a rate. “Get out.”

”What?”

”Get out!” I scream. “GET OUT! Get away from me!” I push him by the shoulders until he’s out of the room, then slam the door shut.

”Kaede-chan,” he says from outside, “Let’s be sensible about this. I’m not leaving you.”

Somehow I’ve crumbled next to the door, cradling shaking limbs. “Everyone leaves.” I gasp for air, but can’t find it. The room feels so small, humid. There’s a deep seeded pain at the center of my chest, pulsating up into my throat. “Breathe,” I try to tell myself, “Breathe.” But I can’t, I can’t feel anything other than the overwhelming terror that everyone I love is gone. Dead or moved on. I’ve given everything to these people, and they’ve chipped off what they could, now nothing’s left. “Is this what it means to be strong?” I think. “To end up completely alone?”

With every shuddering breath, I feel the heartache I’ve stored away for years in its fullness. I pry myself up from the floor, vision clouded, hips crashing into the furniture that suffers the worst of my outrage. The closet door snaps off the hinges when my foot slams into it, the drawers of my dresser break to pieces when they collide with the wall, the mirror across from it shatters when my fist passes through. My entire room, everything, is destroyed at my hand.

I sink back down to the middle of the room, fragments of wood and glass all around. Tears spill down into the floor, desperate sputters for something to hold escape my lips. A parent, a sibling, a friend, someone. Someone who would just hold and not let go—but the hours go by, and the sun rises again. No one is here.

The morning’s first rays of light break through the window, shining on my tear stained face, reflecting against the scattered shards of glass. “What’s wrong with me?” I wonder. “Am I that cursed that everyone around must think me unnecessary?”

The light catches a nearby glint of white. My hair, our tether, splayed across the ground. I run my fingers against the strand, remember it pressed between our hands, all the promises he never kept. I strangle it within my fist, “Asshole.” To think how hard I pushed myself to be strong, the hours spent waiting for him, listening to him speak to me as if he weren’t destroying my soul bit by bit. I love him so much that I hate him. I want him to suffer and experience the greatest happiness all at the same time. To never face me again, but crumble at my feet and beg for my forgiveness.

There’s a pair of scissors lying on my desk. I drag myself towards it, unable to will my legs to work. With a swipe of my hand across the desk surface, several things including the scissors clatter to the ground. I place the white strand of hair between the blades, only for it to feel as if concrete had been placed between them. More tears spill out from my tired eyes, “No, please.” I sit up, squeeze down hard on the handles, until the scissors break in half and the white hair remains unscathed. “Please,” I beg to no one, hugging my knees into my chest, sobbing into the inner skin of my arm, where Suguru’s name scars my flesh. Ghosts haunting me at every turn. They’ve marked me, ruined me, and I would do anything for one of them to be here right now.

∞

The sun is blaring above my head by the time I get there, marching up the marble steps, pushing through a line of ordinary people waiting to enter some kind of prayer room. I hear them whine as I pass, “Hey!”, “Wait your turn!”

The wooden frame of the shoji clatters loudly when I open it. He’s there, sitting at the front of the room, curled up in the same costume I’d last seen him in two years ago.

Death to Fools Punishment to the Weak Love to the Strong

He lulls his head at me, “What do we have here?”

Me, sleepless, angry, face stained with tears that refuse to cease, uniform covered in the faint wooden splinters of broken furniture. I let myself in, weight dragging each of my slow steps. I can see Suguru tense ever so slightly in his seat, readying himself, but when I reach where his platform meets the rest of the ground, I fall to my knees.

“Manami-san.” A woman answers his call from the side door. “Cancel the rest of our appointments for today. Don’t let anyone else into this room.” She voices her agreement, and leaves, most likely to tell all those people I passed to go home. We wait there in our places as the commotion from beyond the doors slowly quiets. Suguru leans his elbow onto his knee, his jaw onto his fist. “Are you in need of a shaman?”

“I’ll do anything you want.” I ball the fabric of my pants into my fists, fresh tears spilling out onto my cheeks. “If you want me to kill people… I’ll…. If that’s what it takes for someone to stay.”

“Have you really exhausted all your options that it’s come to this?”

There’s a difference in the way he speaks, his movements, an element of something manic that wasn’t quite there before. But I’m in no place to care, “Your love, friendship, whatever you want to call it, I thought it was unconditional.”

“For you?” Suguru pauses. “I suppose it was.”

“It’s not anymore?”

“You’re the one who walked in here offering to kill people for me.”

The tears drip down into my lap, eyes seal shut from the heavier sobs overcoming me. My whimpering echoes inside of this cold room, makes it sound more feeble somehow. Suguru sighs at my pitiful condition, “Shall I save you, Kaede-chan?”

My neck cranes back up towards him, smiling, a hand extended towards me. When I take it, he pulls me up onto the platform, and I collapse in his grasp. He cradles me, rocking me back and forth slowly as I continue to cry. “What’s that smell?” I sputter, picking up the scent of something chemical and lemon from his robe.

“Ah that,” he says. “A lot of these people like to hug me as thank you after these meetings. The spray’s to get rid of the monkey smell.”

His voice is filled with a foreign disdain when he says it. Monkeys. I force myself not to react. “I see.”

Suguru’s fingers stroke the top of my head, “You would really kill people for me?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“You understand what this would mean, don’t you? They’ll name you a criminal. You’ll be at odds with everyone you’ve ever known.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Is that so?” he hums, “My love is worth everyone else’s hate?”

My fingertips meet with the skin of his arms, buried beneath the robe’s thick sleeves. It’s soft, comforting. “I just don’t want you to leave.”

“And what if I die? Who will love you then?”

“If you die, I’ll die with you.”

I feel the stir of his chest when he laughs to himself quietly. His hand cups the back of my head, and he looks me in the eyes. “Are you done crying?” I nod. “Good, there’s something I want you to see.”

Suguru guides me by the hand through the next door hallway, it’s vacant and bathed in golden light from the setting sun. “You know what my favorite thing has always been about you, Kaede-chan?”

We turn the corner, and I grip his arm in the way a lost child would. “What is it?”

“You’re so honest,” he laughs to himself. “Even when you try to lie, your true feelings are always so obvious.” We turn another corner. “That’s how, when you said you’d die for me, I knew you weren’t lying. I truly,” he stops and pulls me into an embrace, “Love you for that.”

When we break apart, he holds my chin in his hand, amber eyes crinkling as he smiles. “My Kaede-chan.” I see the walls around us more clearly now, the doors. I begin to sob again when he kisses my forehead.

“Please don’t do this.”

“I love you.”

“Please.”

Suguru grabs me roughly by the shoulders, pushing me through the front doors with such force that I stumble to my hands and knees. I scramble to rush towards the door, but, “No, please wait!” it closes in my face. “Suguru!” I scream, fists pounding against the doors. “SUGURU! PLEASE!” These doors are far more sturdy than anything in my room, but not impossible to break down. It wouldn’t make a difference if I forced my way in, though, I need him to welcome me in this pitiful state, to want me here. “Suguru. Please let me in. I have nowhere else to go. Please. I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll kill non-sorcerers and anyone else you want me to! I’ll do anything! SUGURU!” I scream and cry iterations of this, until my voice goes hoarse. The sun has fully set, and there’s a chill in the air making my body shiver. My fists, too weak to clench, rest against his door still, tears dripping into a small puddle by my knees. Hours have passed. “Please.”

“You know, if anyone finds out you were here, they’ll have you executed.”

“Turn me in then,” I say weakly, “You’d be doing me a favor.”

“I would, but chance is they’ll sentence me too for coming here.”

I barely glance over my shoulder where Satoru is standing yards away. “Poor you.”

#geto suguru #gojo satoru #gojo x oc #kento nanami #koi no yokan #uematsu kaede #jujutsu kaisen #shoko ieiri

6 notes · View notes

joeys-piano · 6 months ago

Text

Tagged by @voxofthevoid, who usually tags me in writing games when I feel a sort of way with my writing. It's happened twice so far, not including this time, so I feel something. I hope you don't mind the whiplash because I'm going off of my most recent works, and I've written for 5 different fandoms in the past 6 months.

Soft tagging: @fellshish, @sid3buns, @boinin, @kryptalia, @chenqing9, @heymacareyna

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

To the Marrow, To the Bone | Blue Lock

“Guys like us…” Isagi pauses, and then he swallows. “The only thing that makes it better is to win the game, and prove them wrong.” And to show them, he doesn’t say that but it’s evident at his mouth. Him pressing edges of a broken nail against his lips now to cool the sting, him pulling away as he’s out of bed to feel the world beneath his feet. “And there’s no other option – ”

But that’s not true.

He thinks one of his ribs has shrunken in, like a ball and chain for a smaller heart than the one fighting inside his chest. Because he breathes in—all he smells is a brand new football from a shelf. And it’s on his clothes, on his bed, on his pillow, within the padding, on the heavy lurch of him trying to walk, and irrefutably in his mouth. He can swipe it across his lips. It’s in his organs, blood and bones. It’s the cover box to a thousand puzzles pieced together when he’s on the pitch. Because in Blue Lock, you start in the middle. But in Ichinan you start at the edge, and once the border is in you build the next one as you meander towards the centre.

Where the Book Ends, It’s Hard to Say | OHSHC

And so it goes that every fairytale had a beginning, middle, and end.

The doors had opened; the doors were closed. The guests arrived; the guests were home. The play was had; the play was done. The hosts were princes, and now there were none.

As Fire Tempers Steel, So Too Does The Cloth | Blue Eye Samurai

Safer still was a battered inn, battered safekeep, a single room, about as wide as one tatami if someone lied to you about the length.

Behind the checkpoint to old Kyoto, these sprung up as the shrines do. Twenty steps in—there’s an inn. Upon thirty others—then there’s two. One could pilgrim the forty stations of rickety rooftops above their heads before every stray line turns to one. Old Kyoto, there at the end. If you can manage it: sunken floorboards, nothing softer than your flesh, a row of strangers sent to rooms where even two of you was just too much, and there is no guarantee you’ll survive here after a single meal off the bone, a missing coin or two, someone fights, pray the sutra: and survive the night. Yet safer still was to wake up with a stranger inside your breath, tongue for tongue trying to bite you before they lose you for a ghost; but even easier was to wake up beneath a cedar or its limb.

Buoyancy | Link Click

“I’m taller.”

“So you are.”

“And so are you.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Cheng Xiaoshi narrows his eyes. “We’ll be in and out before it rains.”

“Then after you,” Lu Guang tells him. There’s enough room to move around him. “Hold the umbrella.”

He lets go. But the touch of him still remains: the trace of his outline fades to nothing just as silently as he walks, but still is the warmest spot on his elbow—as far as Xiaoshi would’ve noticed.

Sasaki and Ogasawara Discover Friendship is a Beautiful Thing | Sasaki to Miyano

“So spill it. What are they like?”

“Cute.”

He considers. “Anything else?”

“Oh, the height difference.”

“Just call ’em short, man!”

Sasaki laughs. “That’s weird, huh?”

“Unbelievable…”

“Big wooooooorrrd, ’gasawara.”

“So y’think they’re cute – ”

“I know they’re cute.”

“ – and you’re into shorties.”

“Am I that tall?”

They’re about the same height while sitting down. And who gives a fuck, but he indulges him.

“So you’re Godzilla and have a crush on ’em.” He finishes the chickens without him choking, sparing the soggy ones into a corner for Sasaki to nibble on. “And like ’em so much you don’t wanna hurt ’em.” Between the nibbling, Sasaki nods. “So what else?”

Hostel | Trigun

He is a cruel man, Nicolas, to love the worst of him, Needle Noggin. And to say the worst of him is still as beautiful as this fucked up little world.

#joey speaks #tagged #tag game #I don't write as much dialogue anymore but I'm loving the sass that's coming through

5 notes · View notes

ivoronical · 2 years ago

Text

Cooking Disaster?

——————————————————————————

Cole was standing at the kitchen counter. Today was his and his partner’s one year anniversary and he wanted to do something special for them. He didn’t want to just go out and buy something, he wanted to make them something and what better to make than a cake. Cole had a problem with adding extra ingredients into his food, which normally caused it to turn out inedible, but he told himself that this time he would follow the directions exactly, no extra stuff.

After breakfast he told everyone to stay out of the kitchen and, against their wishes, they agreed and the three of them went off to do their own thing. Once all of them were gone Cole walked to the pantry and began to grab the ingredients that the recipe called for. It took him a few minutes to find everything before he sat all of it on the counter and took a step back.

He read the directions and started to mix the dry ingredients together first. He scooped up the first cup of flour and dumped into the large bowl in front of him. When he did so flour went everywhere, mostly on the black AC/DC t-shirt he was wearing. He brushed the flour off of it and realized that he probably needed to wear an apron of some sort so he didn’t ruin it. He took a look around and spotted Zane's pink, frilly apron on the back of the pantry door.

He considered his two options: 1.) wear the apron and keep his clothes clean or 2.) don’t wear it and ruin his favorite shirt. He considered them for a minute before deciding to swallow his pride and wear the apron. He slipped it on and tied it in place. After getting the apron on he continued with mixing the cake ingredients.

After he got the dry ingredients successfully mixed together he started on the wet ingredients which he concluded to be relatively easy. Once that was done he grabbed a larger bowl and poured both the dry and wet mixtures into it. After getting both bowls contents into the larger one Cole grabbed the whisk and began to stir the cake batter. While he was stirring he began to hum a tune that he once heard Sensei Wu playing on his flute.

Just as he was getting done with the cake batter he heard someone enter the kitchen. He leaned the whisk on the side of the bowl and turned to see Lloyd eyeing him with a mischievous smile. “What?” He asked the green ninja.

“Nothing,” Lloyd responded holding back a laugh, “I just never thought I’d live to see the day that you would be wearing something pink and frilly.”

Cole’s eyes widened as he looked down at the apron he was wearing. He looked back at Lloyd and glared at him. “You never saw this,” he said his eyes narrowing as he pointed towards the blonde.

“And why should I keep my mouth shut,” Lloyd asked his smile growing wider and his eyes having a mischievous glint in them.

“I’ll tell everyone where your secret candy stash is if you don’t,” Cole threatened.

Lloyd gasped as his eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare!” Lloyd shrieked, one of his hands coming up to clutch his shirt over his heart.

“Try me,” Cole spoke with a menacing tone and a smirk.

“Fine,” Said the green ninja reluctantly agreeing to the earth ninjas request. “Here’s your icing by the way,” he grumbled as he handed the bag in his hands to Cole.

“Thanks,” Cole said excitedly. He turned and sat the icing on counter next to the batter. When he turned back around Lloyd was gone. Cole shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the cake—or cake to be. He bent down and dug around the cabinet and pulled out a round silver cake pan. He sat the pan on the counter and grabbed the bowl of cake batter. He carefully poured the batter into the pan making sure not to spill anything.

After getting all the batter into the pan he took it and stuck it in the oven, setting a timer for 30 minutes. After getting the cake in the oven he grabbed the three frosting containers and started to dump them into their own little bowls. Next he grabbed the food coloring from one of the overhead cabinets. He dropped some of red into one bowl to make a bright red for Kai, he put some blue into the second bowl for Jay, and lastly he put about a quarter of what he put in the bright red so he could get a nice pink color for Zane. Once he got all three colors mixed up he sat the bowls to the side, took the apron off, and leaned against the counter waiting for the cake to finish baking.

While he was waiting he played some music on the speaker that Jay had installed in the kitchen a while ago. The first song that came on was Jesus in L.A by Alec Benjamin. As he listened he began to sing and sway to to the music, before getting interrupted that is. "What are you doing?"

Cole jumped a little and whipped around to see who had caught him. As he turned around the song changed to Love Like You from Steven Universe and he saw Kai standing there leaning against the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed. Cole's face softened at the sight of his boyfriend. "Dancin'. Wanna join?" Cole asked his hand extending out toward the elemental master.

Kai's smile widened as he let out a chuckle. "Sure twinkle toes," Kai said lovingly as he took the ravenette's hand. Cole grasped Kai's hand firmly and pulled him to his chest, the hand not holding Kai's going to hold the hotheads waist. He then lead them around the kitchen in a waltz style dance, twirling the smaller when ever he got the chance.

After dancing around for a minute or two the song finally came to a close, Cole dipping Kai down and giving him a chaste kiss to end their dance of love. "I didn't know you could dance like that," Kai said a goofy smile on his face.

"Did you seriously think I learned nothing from Marty Oppenheimer's," Cole retorted.

"Yea, actually," Kai said in seriousness.

"I'm offended," the master of earth said feigning hurt. Just then the timer for Cole's cake went off, startling the two love birds out of their playful bickering. The sound made Cole panic. Kai wasn't supposed to be in the kitchen, yet there he was. The master of earth looked at Kai a look of panic on his face. "I need you to leave, like, now," Cole said in a rush.

Kai chuckled at his boyfriend's panicked state. "Fine," Kai said throwing his hands up in surrender. Before the brunette left he gave Cole a quick kiss. As soon as Kai was out of sight Cole grabbed the oven mitts and took the cake out, sitting it on the stove top. He then turned the oven off and took a deep breath. 'That was close' he thought.

After calming down Cole grabbed the cake with the oven mitts and sat it in the freezer to cool so he could ice it. He waited around in the kitchen for about fifteen minutes before he took the cake back out and sat it on the cake holder tray he found in one of the cabinets. He got all the icing bowls and sat them next to the cake, before he start icing it though he was interupted.

"Is that it?" Lloyd asked as he walked into the kitchen and to the fridge. "Doesn't look half bad."

"Really?" Cole asked turning toward the green ninja. He noticed the very visible sweat stains around his shirt, 'he must have been training' Cole thought.

"Yea, it looks nice and edible," Lloyd responded grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and downing half of it in a matter of seconds.

"Gee, thanks," Cole retorted rolling his eyes.

Lloyd let out a small chuckle, "It really does look good though," he said.

"Thanks," Cole said as he grabbed the remaining white icing and started to smear it on the cake. While he was putting the white icing onto the cake Lloyd walked up beside him and dipped his finger into the icing pulling it out with a big glob of sugary icing on it. "HEY THAT'S NOT FOR YOU," Cole yelled out smacking the blonde's back as he turned away from the mad ravanette.

"Hey you almost made me drop it!" Lloyd exclaimed while eating the frosting.

"You shouldn't have any anyways," Cole said grumpily as he continued icing the cake.

"You knew I couldn't resist it," Lloyd replied teasingly. "Anyways, I gotta go, good luck on finishing the cake," he said as he walked out the kitchen.

Cole glared in his direction, taking a mental note to get back at him later, and turned back to the cake letting out a tired sigh. No one told him that baking was so tiring, it always seemed to effortless when Zane or Jay did it but the truth was that it was so incredibly tiring. Despite his tiredness Cole grabbed the red colored icing and put it into the piping bag, twisting the top closed so that none of the icing spilled out. After preparing the piping bag he started to carefully pipe little messy flowers onto the cake. Once he covered about a third of the cake with red flowers he grabbed another piping bag and filled it with the blue icing once again covering a third of the cake with his messy flowers.

It took him about thirty minutes to finish piping the red, blue, and pink flowers onto the cake. When he was finished he took a step back to look at his creation. His nose crinkled up at the sight of the cake in front of him. It definitely wasn't the neatest, but it's the thought that counts so he decided it was good enough considering he was the one that cooked it.

After looking over his 'masterpiece', he cleaned everything up making sure all the dishes were washed and all the ingredients were put back in their place. He finished with that and turned back to the cake. "Now all I have to do is show it to them," he sighed out, head falling to look at the kitchen floor. "First, I have to change," he whispered out once realizing that he was still wearing Zane's frilly pink apron.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cole then went into his and his partners shared bedroom and grabbed a nice outfit to change into. Once changed he looked at the full length mirror sitting in the corner of their room, making sure he didn't look stupid or overdressed. He had changed into a black button up shirt and a pair of black dress pants that had been a gift from his dad a few years ago. After finally giving himself enough courage to present his gift to his partners, he went out in search for all of them.

Jay was in his tech lab working on his latest invention when Cole walked in. "Knock knock," he said whilst simultaneously knocking twice on the metal door of the lab. Jay turned his head towards his boyfriend and smiled.

He slide his goggles onto the top of his head. "Hey! Where are you going dressed all handsomely?" the freckled brunette asked with smirk.

"It's a surprise, come on, we gotta go get the other two," Cole spoke with a smile. Jay followed after taking off his goggles and turning off his equipment, his imagination running wild at what the 'surprise' could be. They found Kai in the living room and he was willing and eager to follow the both of them. Whilst the three were roaming around looking for Zane, Kai and Jay intertwined their hands together, talking amongst themselves and sharing small kisses.

The three eventually found Zane and the four of them were on their way to the kitchen. Once they got just outside of the kitchen door Cole stopped them. "I need you all to close your eyes," Cole said, the nervousness apparent in his voice.

"Why?" Zane asked their head tilting to the side as it normally did when they were curious.

"Because its a surprise," Cole explained. The three of them obliged and shut their eyes, allowing their bulky boyfriend guide them into the kitchen and stand them in their place. "I know it may not be the best anniversary present, but I think that it turned out better than expected and I hope you all like it," Cole said taking a deep breath before telling the other three to open their eyes.

They opened their eyes and stared blankly at the cake sat in front of them. To say that their initial reaction was good would an overstatement. The three of them exchanged glances before turning to Cole and bombarding him with questions.

"What spices did you put this one?"

"Which pan did you burn?"

"What kinda of paint did you use to color the icing?"

Cole's eyes watered at the questions, but he still some how kept his cool. He took a deep breath and answered the questions. "I didn't use any spices, I didn't burn a pan, and I used food coloring for the icing. I followed the recipe exactly," he finished.

The three looked shocked at Cole's response. They upset him and they could tell. His voice shook and his eyes were glossy with tears. They all felt terrible and immediately went to hug him. The trio hugged him for a few moments in silence before Jay spoke. "We're really sorry Cole, we didn't mean to upset you," he spoke his voice heavy with guilt.

"It's okay, I should have expected it, it was a stupid idea in the first place," Cole muttered and walked over towards the cake. They all flinched at his words, they never wanted to make him upset, it was just cooking didn't normally end well with Cole. Zane was the first to realize what Cole was doing with the cake when he pick it up and they moved to stop him.

Zane extended their hand towards the cake platter. "Let us try it," they said, "its the least we can do since you spent all day on it."

"You'll just be disgusted by it anyways so whats the point," Cole spoke sadly.

"No, we won't," Kai spoke up, "you made it so no matter if its amazing or terrible we'll still love it."

"Really? You guys mean that?" Cole asked, his uncertainty was clear on his face.

"Yes, of course we do knuckle head now let us try it," Jay softly spoke giving Cole a big toothy smile.

Cole somewhat reluctantly handed the cake over to Zane. The nindroid sat the cake on the counter and grabbed a rather large knife from the knife set sat on the bar. They cut out one decently sized piece and sat it on a plate that Kai had grabbed. Each of them took a fork and got a small bite to try. They counted down from three before sticking the forks in their mouths and chewing the cake.

Jay was the first to say something. "Wow, this is really good!" he exclaimed as he took another bite hums of delight coming from him.

"It is quite delightful," Zane complimented.

Cole's face lit up at their reactions. "You guys really like it?" he asked unsure if they were faking their reactions or not.

"Abso-fucking-lutey," Kai said excitedly, shoveling more of the cake into his mouth.

Cole smiled. He was glad that everything worked out and he didn't screw something up. "You finally finished it huh?" came a voice from the kitchen doorway. Cole turned to see who it was and saw Lloyd there leaning against the door frame freshly showered.

"Yea, I did and it turned out great!" Cole answered.

"Wait, Lloyd you knew about this?" Kai asked the green ninja.

"Yep, knew the whole time, but I have a question."

"What is it Lloyd?" asked Zane.

"What did you guys get Cole, ya know for your guys' anniversary?" the blonde asked the three of them.

They all froze and turned to look at each other with worry. "We, uh, have to go get it actually because it's a custom thing," Jay lied, "so we have to actually go get it...like..right now." Kai and Zane agreed with Jay's lie and they all hurried out of the kitchen to 'go get their gift for Cole', but not before giving the earth ninja a hug and a kiss as a thank you for the cake he had work so hard on.

After the three of them were gone Lloyd spoke again. "They totally forgot dude."

"Yeah I know, but I love them so I don't really care to much." Cole shrugged as he began to clean the mess they had left up. Cole may not be a good cook or baker but at least it didn't end up a disaster this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi everyone Oliver here! I'm so so sorry that it took me this long to get this oneshot done but here it is at last. I'm sorry if it seems rushed towards the end but I really wanted to finish it and get out to you guys. If you have any requests you'd like for me to right you can comment them down below and I'll try my best to do them. Again sorry for the late update but I really hope you like it.:)

With Love,

Oliver

#ninjago #ninjago lloyd #polyninja #lgbtq #cole brookstone #zane julien #jay walker #kai smith #cooking

56 notes · View notes

unhingedselfships · 1 year ago

Text

The party didn't start for another six hours or so.

Which meant now was the time to start prodding Kimi into moving.

Oh hair and makeup were quick with her, low maintenance as she was in those matters. And if she needed something more intensive, she'd get someone else to do it for her.

But clothes? Kimi had two settings.

Knowing exactly what she was wearing weeks or even months in advance and having it all laid out and ready.

Or, like tonight.

Sifting through more than one extensive closet with no idea what she wanted.

He was glad she'd already started.

Less glad she appeared to have already given up.

She was curled on the floor, in front of a full length mirror, chin tucked on her knees, staring loathingly at the reflection. Clothes were strewn every which where, and she had nothing but basic undergarments on.

Apparently it was one of those days.

"I'm not going," her tone was petulant.

"Do not be a child, Kimberly."

"I don't want to go."

"You wanted to this morning."

"I changed my mind."

"Why," he was rapidly losing patience with the girl.

She glared balefully at him over her shoulder, "Look at me. I'm fucking disgusting."

He felt his temper spike, “Excuse me? You’re insulting my taste?”

Huffing she turned back away from him, but still glared at his form in the mirror.

“You can’t stand there and tell me I’m objectively anything but unattractive. I fit no modern conventions. I appreciate that you like me, for whatever reasons I don’t understand. I don’t, and neither does anyone else.

Her shoulders slumped further, “Dai and Phe don’t count. Phe is attracted to everyone, and Dai probably only stays out of obligation at this point.”

She knew that was a lie, and quite harsh of her but she wasn’t feeling very kind or charitable just then.

Meeting his eyes in the reflection, “We all make poor choices sometimes. I’m yours.”

Watching him, the way his eyes and expression shifted in that subtle way that meant he was deciding how annoyed or upset by something he was.

Voice brisk, “Fishing for compliments, are we, now? Well, you won’t get any more unless you pick something pretty and put it on for me. I didn’t want to go to this either, but you said it would be fun, you said you would go, and I don’t intend to deal with those people alone. So get a hold of yourself and get ready before I get pissed off and do something we’ll both regret.”

She curled slightly tighter before letting out a long breath.

“Nothing looks right. Nothing sits right. I tried. I’ll- Figure something out. Sorry.”

Glaring petulantly at the piles of fabric, she let just the barest hint of teasing slip into her lightening tone, “What are you even talking about, you don’t do regret. And I hate fishing. Most boring anything ever. Next to golf.”

Was she being a child? Absolutely. Was it helping? Sort of.

Whatever worked.

Rolling her neck and staring at him from an awkward angle, “What color should I wear then? Help me narrow it down won’t you?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “Wear something that will match what I’m wearing I guess?” he blinks, glancing at his watch, idea formed, “Hmm. Actually, I haven’t decided what I’m wearing yet. I think it will take me about twenty minutes to decide for sure. Now it’s possible that if someone shows up in my room with her own outfit ready before twenty minutes are up, my mind won’t be made up yet and I might just let someone else decide what I wear. But in twenty minutes, I think I’ll have made a choice on my own. So long, Kimberly! Good luck picking!”

And he turns on his heel and leaves the room.

Blinking at where he had been she huffs, before rising to toe through her options again. Her mood was only mildly improved but oh well, she could manage.

Or well, she thought she could.

Slightly sheepish and very pouty, about seventeen minutes later, still not dressed, she slipped into his room, two hangers in hand.

“I can’t decide.”

He glances at them before pointing towards the left option, “Alright, now you didn’t arrive here with your outfit chosen like I’d asked. But I’m a generous man, so I’ll let you pick my tie. Only the tie.”

He said that like his tie wouldn’t also decide most of his other accessories but she let him have the win. Verbally anyway. And set about choosing one she thought would suit the dress he’d chosen for her, mumbling to herself about how much easier he was to dress than she was.

He leaned over her shoulder as she sifted through her options, “I am much less picky than you.”

She snorted, choked on her breath, before laughing, “Liar!”

And so they bantered as they got ready, and if his touches were a little softer, a little more frequent, than they normally might be well. Neither of them was going to mention it.

#yakkimi #kadokura-verse #kadokura kenshi #drabble #one shot

2 notes · View notes

cavalierious-whim · 2 years ago

Text

Childe spends a day on the beach with those who've become his friends. Written for Raging Tide, A Tartagalia Zine.

Read here on AO3 for better quality!

When Childe first proposed the idea of a fun day in the midsummer Liyue sun, he had the beach in mind. Swim trunks, beach balls, and those delightful little ice pops that Xiangling occasionally makes on special days. His gaze narrows as he surveys Zhongli, who’s just arrived at their rendezvous spot.

“Say, Xiansheng… you aren’t planning on wearing that, are you?”

Zhongli presses a hand to his chest and looks down, surveying his usual suit. Childe thinks he looks utterly ridiculous, but at the same time isn’t surprised. Zhongli is the most routine man he’s ever met. “My clothes are perfectly functional,” says Zhongli in that quiet, understated, and prim way of his.

“If you were going to a funeral, yeah.”

Zhongli’s brow furrows. “I just came from a—”

“Working? On a day like this?” asks Xiangling, standing near Childe’s elbow. She’s dressed appropriately, of course, bedecked in a swimsuit as yellow as summer itself. She reaches into the portable icebox that’s slung around her shoulder and pulls out an ice pop, handing it to Childe without a word.

“I knew that I loved you,” says Childe, already savoring the sweet delight.

“Get in line,” says Xiangling with a mischievous smile. “That’s what everyone says.”

Childe laughs, nudging her shoulder with his elbow. His face falls slightly as he sees Ganyu step forward, wearing her own beachy number, and a cute sun hat to boot. He frowns.

Xiangling winces, leans closer, and says in a stage whisper: “Do you think that she’s here—”

“To babysit me? Definitely.”

“Come now, don’t be silly.” Ganyu smiles placidly as she readjusts her hat. “I was merely encouraged to bring my work to the beach.”

Childe levels here with a very pointed stare. “Yeah, like I said—to babysit me.”

Ganyu has this kind of serene smile that isn’t really nice—it’s more like she’s making fun of you silently. Childe itches a little under her gaze as she pulls out a towel from her bag and looks for the best place to lay it out.

“There are worse options,” says Xiangling in a loud hiss, “You know—like Keqing?”

Childe huffs. “She’d be too busy to pay me any mind. Ganyu though…”

“Ganyu will be a pleasant addition to the afternoon, I think,” says Zhongli. Childe regards him once again, his eyes lingering where Zhongli’s arms are clasped firmly behind his back. Always so proper.

“Relax a little, yeah?”

Zhongli frowns again, a little wrinkle forming on his brow. He looks at his suit like he’s genuinely confused and Childe sighs. Better luck next time, he supposes.

Others arrive slowly. Paimon and Lumine, even Xingqiu and Chongyun—they’d all promised him, of course, but Childe isn’t holding his breath.

The life of a Harbinger is strangely lonely at times. He can’t trust anyone—he can’t. One wrong move and there’s a new dude with his title. Childe is always watching his back because even his coworkers he can’t trust, which has led to a perfected, cocky attitude.

The more people are annoyed by you, the easier it is to keep tabs on them and all that. They come to him, which makes his work all the easier.

That being said—Childe is tired and his stationing here within Liyue has shown him that.

“What are you thinking about?” asks Xiangling, nudging him with her shoulder. Everyone else has picked a spot to settle into, towels and bags and shoes dotting the beach.

“Nothing much, really.” Childe shrugs. “Just been a while since I’ve had a day off, you know?”

Xiangling’s face crinkles in amusement. “Have you ever had a day off?”

Childe doesn’t think so but it’s never been something that he’s thought much about.

Until now.

Childe falls asleep and wakes up feeling like he’s on fire.

So, maybe dumb, laying out on his stomach under the sun. But it was warm, and it smells of the ocean, and the sounds of everyone around him lulled him right under, and well—

He’s paying for it now, isn’t he?

“No, no—” Then he hisses.

“Oh shush,” says Ganyu, smoothing her hand over his red shoulders. “You did this to yourself.”

“It was an accident.”

“Accidents can still have faults. You’re very lucky that I brought this coconut yogurt along, otherwise you’d be worse off.”

“Worse,” grumbles Childe under his breath. “Stings like a—”

Ganyu digs the palm of her hand just a little too harshly into his burned skin and Childe yelps dramatically. Xiangling looks at him, face crinkled with mild amusement. Zhongli regards him like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. Paimon screams something about how he looks like a boiled lobster because, of course, she’d compare him to food.

None of it helps Childe forget about his blistered skin.

Ganyu seems to take pity on him though, and her hands lighten up as she cools the yogurt with her Cryo and slathers it across his back. And Chile has to hand it to her—it’s a soothing mixture that works well. The whine that rises from the back of his throat sounds pathetic.

She leans over his shoulder with that too-sweet smile that means anything but. “Have we learned our lesson?”

Childe looks at her, sheepish. “Yeah. Wear the damn sunscreen.”

Ganyu laughs kindly and Childe thinks perhaps she doesn’t mind her job for the day.

Ice fishing is simple and lacks finesse. Find a frozen lake with a thick enough layer that is safe enough to walk out on. Cut a hole in the water and drop a line in, then you wait forever while you drink vodka and swap stories with family and friends.

Childe thought that deep-sea fishing wouldn’t be much different. Childe is woefully wrong.

The boat lurches underneath his feet, bobbing with the ocean tide. Childe’s feet slip across the wooden planks as he clings to the edge because what kind of boat doesn’t have a proper railing? Boats in the traditional Liyue style, apparently.

“Oh,” he murmurs, “Oh—” And then he vomits right over the side.

“Surely you came to Liyue on a boat.”

Childe wipes at his mouth and looks to the side. Xingqiu sits there quietly on a beach chair, slathered in a pasty sheen of sunscreen. He doesn’t bother with looking away from his book, licking his thumb to turn a page.

“Yes,” says Childe, “and that was just as miserable an experience as this.” His gaze slides to Zhongli who stands perfectly still at the bow. “I’m surprised he has sealegs, though.”

“I have a distaste for seafood, Childe, not the ocean.” A pause, and then, “Though I don’t particularly like being away from land for very long.”

Well, that clears up absolutely nothing.

Once they anchor the ship, it still rolls with the waves. Childe manages to find his grounding, albeit on wobbly legs. “Alright, then. Who’s fishing with me?”

Xiangling is the only enthusiastic taker, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, barely containing herself.

Childe’s gaze sweeps the deck as he frowns slightly. “What, no other takers?”

Zhongli’s mouth is pursed with distaste—they might’ve gotten him to leave land, which was a feat in itself, but Childe knows he draws the line at handling fish. A pity. Childe thinks that it’d be hilarious to see Zhongli try. He’s articulate with his words but not so much with his actions. Childe imagines it would be endless entertainment.

“Hey, kid.”

Xingqiu looks up from his book, eyes narrowed as though annoyed by the interruption. Childe waits expectantly. “You can’t be serious,” says Xingqiu with a sigh. “I came out here to enjoy this new publication, I won’t—”

Xiangling pulls the book from his fingertips, snaps it shut, and tosses it right into the ocean. Childe gapes. Xingqiu gapes. Zhongli hides a well-placed snicker behind his gloved hand.

And Xiangling just bounces on her feet as she smiles at him sweetly.

“That was—”

“Was it a first edition?” asks Xiangling brightly.

Xingqiu looks aggrieved, his face turning an impressive shade of pink. “No,” he hisses, “I suppose not.”

“Then no harm, no foul.” Then Xiangling smiles, her lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Or should I say, fowl—”

“Okay, okay, enough with the puns,” says Childe, rooting through rods and lines before finding a set that suits her well enough. “I trust you know how to fish?”

“Of course,” she says with a huff. Then, Xiangling nudges him. “Question is, do you?”

Childe snorts. “Of course. I grew up on the ice, you know. Practically raised in the tundra waters. Ever seen permafrost? I breathed it.”

Xiangling’s brow rises and she whistles. “Impressive,” she says kindly. Childe can tell that she isn’t remotely dazzled.

“The boat,” says Xingqiu, unhelpfully. He’s still lounging about in the beach chair, making no effort to move. “You need to learn how to stand on it first.”

“I am standing on it!” Childe gestures to himself as if to prove the point. Then the boat swoons and Childe trips, barely catching himself. Xingqiu just raises an eyebrow. “Right, look—not the point. I’m a master at fishing, just you wait.”

Childe then holds out a rod to Xingqiu, who only regards him with a once-over, arms crossed over his chest. “Oh, I’m not fishing. I want to watch you make an absolute idiot of yourself.”

“Oh, you little—”

“Hey.”

Everyone on the boat stops and looks. Lumine stands there clad in a white and blue striped swimsuit, Paimon floating beside her face. The one person who strikes fear into Childe’s heart, and no, it isn’t because she kicks his ass at the Golden House every single Monday. It’s because—

“Childe,” says Lumine shortly.

That tone. Childe winces like a boy who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Lumine mothers him more than his actual mother does, and that’s saying something. “Ah, Lumine—”

She holds out her hand, waiting for the rod. Childe slaps one into her hand without a word.

“Is there a Paimon-sized one?” Paimon looks at him so innocently, with those round, sort-of bugged eyes.

“I think I have a kid’s rod somewhere,” murmurs Childe, rifling through his things again.

Eventually, everyone is settled in with fishing rods and line. Xiangling stands, her line cast and legs allowing for the push and pull of the tide like she was born on the damn sea. Childe can’t help the subtle jealousy that rises in his throat. He he sits down, legs hanging over the side.

Lumine joins him.

“It’s not about fishing, is it?”

“You, always coming at me with complicated questions.”

Lumine looks amused. “Complicated? I could fight you instead. Topple this boat right over.”

“No, no, you’ve already beaten me up once this week. That’s plenty.”

Lumine chuckles and bumps their shoulders together. They both have their lines cast, but they aren’t paying much attention. Childe can feel the way that Xingqiu’s gaze bores into the back of his head, willing something to happen.

“It’s nice,” says Lumine. “Inviting everyone out to fish.”

“Well, I didn’t. I asked Zhongli for the best spots because we all know he’s as old as dirt—like, literal dirt. And then Xiangling overheard so she invited herself along, and then—”

“No doubt our beloved former Archon shared the news with everyone else.”

Childe rubs at his neck sheepishly. “I mean, it’s fine. I was going to come out here alone, but it…”

“It’s nice. The company.” Lumine says it quietly.

Childe often forgets that they’re both outlanders in the beautiful land that is Liyue. Lumine, though, is always traveling as she moves on and on. Childe was once like that—he stepped into Liyue with only the intent to do his job and get out, but—

Well, funny how things change.

The more time that passes, the more that Childe wants to stay. Liyue feels more like home to him than Snezhnaya ever did and he was raised there.

Lumine nudges him again. “What are you thinking?”

Childe is quiet for a long moment. “That’s exactly it—that’s what I wanted to come out here and do. I wanted to think.”

Lumine hums. “Thinking is annoying. Just enjoy the chaos. Isn’t that the sort of thing you like, anyway?”

Chaos, thinks Childe. He used to dream of it, relish it, even, when it came to battle. Xiangling lets out a shout, pulling her fishing rod back. The line goes entirely taut as she fights with the weight on the other end of it. The line sinks deep into the water, pulling stock straight.

“Oh, it feels like a big one!” she says excitedly, her eyes round and wide like dinner plates. In her excitement, she smacks Childe with her arm and he loses his balance, tipping right into the ocean.

There’s panic—Xiangling panics about losing her fish; Lumine panics about Childe tumbling into the water; and Xingqiu panics about Lumine potentially falling right in after him as she leans over, trying to yank Childe back up.

It’s a simple matter of commanding Hydro and Childe is back on the deck, entirely drenched, but no worse for wear.

What a boat they make. A young, budding author. Xingqiu bursts into laughter at the dredged sight of him. A world-renowned chef. Xiangling yelps in praise, showing off her fresh catch—a sea bass that’s nearly half the size of her. An outlander who’s further from home than he’ll ever be. Lumine throws a towel over his head and Paimon cackles in amusement. And a former Archon. Zhongli is still perched near the bow, his face weathered by amusement.

Chaos indeed.

Childe loves it.

The sun is slipping past the horizon and a bonfire has been lit on the beach.

Xiangling flits around the cookfire, roasting fish and working her magic when it comes to food. Ganyu stands by, watching with a sweet smile. Xingqiu rests on a towel, a new book in hand. Lumine sets about readying eating utensils and Paimon shrieks about delicious eats.

Childe sits on the beach, watching the water. He’s sunburnt—pink and peeling. He’s barefoot, his toes dug into the sand. He can feel the salt clinging to his hair, curling it. All in a day’s work, he thinks, though his days used to be full of different sorts of endeavors.

“Childe,” says Zhongli as he settles next to him. He’s still dressed to the nines in his stuffy, prim suit, but he’s pulled off his shoes at least. He digs his toes into the sand too, resting his arms over his knees. “So rarely do I see you so… quiet.”

“Thinking,” he says, looking at Zhongli with a wily smirk. “I’m known to do that on occasion.”

Zhongli watches him back with that ageless stare of his. “You think more often than not, I would say.”

No matter how often they talk or share meals, Zhongli never ceases to surprise him. Perhaps it's because Zhongli’s had eons to watch mortals, but Childe thinks that he understands them more than he lets on. Experiencing it personally, however, is wholly different.

“What is the adage? A Mora for your thoughts?”

Childe laughs at that. “Isn’t there a Mora shortage?”

Zhongli hums, thumbing at his chin. “I suppose I haven’t thought much of it.”

Because of course, he wouldn’t; Childe still plays bank to Zhongli’s spending habits, not that he’s complaining. Childe takes care of his friends, and so, he happily foots the bill. Before being stationed in Liyue, his accounts sat untouched for the most part, only accruing interest. It was a pity to let his earnings go to waste.

“It’s strange, you know,” says Childe, “how much I’ve come to love it here. When I think of my days, I think of the people that I spend them with, not the job that I do. And when I think of home, it isn’t snow-covered peaks, it’s Wanmin restaurant and the meals I spend with you and Lumine. Maybe I’ve become soft, but—”

“No.” Zhongli’s voice is quiet but firm. “Childe, you are allowed to enjoy yourself.”

Childe starts at that. It’s something he’s never really thought about. Childe is a Harbinger, one of the Tsaritsa’s hands. He was gifted a title and has effortlessly executed what’s been asked of him, time and time again.

Except here, in Liyue, he sleeps in on his days off. He forgoes hunting targets down and bloodying his sword. He enjoys tea, practices using chopsticks, and most importantly, feels welcomed and wanted.

The warmth of his found family here is different from the stark, winter cold of Snezhnaya.

“I was wondering why you’ve been hesitating,” says Zhongli. “Going back. Surely she’s asked for you to.”

The Tsaritsa has. Childe’s desk is littered with letters requesting his arrival back home at the Palace, but it hasn’t escalated to true order. Yet. It’s only a matter of time.

Childe sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Lumine told me to stop thinking about it. To just enjoy the chaos.”

“Sound advice,” says Zhongli.

“I’m not dumb enough to think I can stay here forever.” Childe’s voice is quiet and for the first time, he realizes just truly how much he’d like that. To stay here, in Liyue. Surrounded by friends and the warmth of the sun, and the salty sea breeze.

Childe has been more at ease here than anywhere else in his entire life.

“I decided to retire because I wanted to live for myself.” It’s the first time that Zhongli has ever expressed such a thing so outright. When Childe looks at him, Zhongli seems pensive. “And perhaps I didn’t know what that meant, and it’s likely that I still don’t—but it’s ever-changing as I learn more and more with every day. My goals, I mean. The things that I want. The one thing I have learned, though, is that it’s natural for our wants and desires to change over time.”

Zhongli looks at Childe, his eyes soft as they glow amber. “Loyalties come and go, and they shift. That isn’t a bad thing. You deserve to be selfish.”

Childe chuckles. “So, sit here and enjoy it for as long as I can, yeah?”

“Or choose to stay and retire as well. I will enjoy our friendship nonetheless.”

Childe hesitates, thinking about the idea of it longer than he should. Retirement. Such a thing doesn’t exist for Harbingers but it’s a nice fantasy to entertain. “You know, Xiansheng, you’re probably my best friend. I’ve never had one before.”

“Oh?”

Childe smiles, nudging Zhongli’s shoulder. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Certainly not.”

Their conversation comes to a close when Xiangling careens over the sand, nearly tripping over her own feet. She heaves heavy breaths, her hands resting on her knees, and then— “Oi! Dinner!” She reaches out and tugs Childe to his feet.

“Okay, okay—”

“Come on, come on!”

Childe does. He follows Xiangling, close on her heels. The bonfire crackles brightly, hot with its brilliant fire. Everyone settles around as they load up their plates with delicious food. There is laughter, warmth, and kind words. Slaps on shoulders and tight hugs to the side.

Everyone seems so happy to just be there, having enjoyed the day spent on the beach.

Childe’s heart crackles, white-hot with a kind of affection he never knew he was capable of. These people—these friends—bring him more satisfaction than the thrill of the hunt ever will. They warm his chest more than the pull of his Delusion.

“Hey, eat up!” Xiangling thrusts a plate into his hand, piled high with fish and all the trimmings. Then, she plops into the sand right next to him, tucking into her own portion, eyes bright and her smile wide.

You deserve to be selfish, said Zhongli not five minutes prior.

Childe thinks that perhaps he’s right.

#Genshin Impact #Genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact fanfic #childe #tartaglia #zhongli #xingqiu #xiangling #ganyu #friendship fluff

4 notes · View notes

the-shadowsingers-whore · 9 months ago

Text

a court of wards and shadow

chapter nine

series overview

summary: aelis and azriel's mission starts off on the wrong foot which leads to some unexpected confessions

length: 6.2k

warnings: (18+ mdni) angst, violence, descriptions of injuries, attempted assault, azriel's being moody again, kissing, no actual smut but azriel and aelis are starting to get horny for each other

disclaimer: this fic in no way represents any of sarah j. maas' work or ideas, it is for purely fictional/personal entertainment purposes

masterlist /// next chapter >>

the next morning i rise to find my leathers laid out across the top of a pack. i slip them on before sifting through the bag to find a change of clothes, some rations, and a few other things i’ll need for our several day mission. several days. with azriel. alone. i can’t help the little thrill that courses through me at the thought but quickly rein it in when i remember the way he wouldn’t look at me yesterday.

i don’t know what shifted between us the other afternoon when i cried during our conversation, but a sinking feeling settles in my gut as i recall the way he’d been avoiding me. is that how he’s going to be for the next few days? the bit of excitement that filled me moments ago morphs into one of dread.

i try my best to shake it off as i lace up my boots and strap the sheath for my sword down my spine. by the time i secure the dagger that was also left for me to my thigh i have built a thick wall around my emotions, determined to not let them affect me. the mission is what’s important right now, not whatever seems to be going on with azriel.

i make my way to the training ring where i find azriel waiting with a pack similar to my own and adorned with his own selection of deadly weapons. he tilts his head slightly in greeting and simply asks “ready?” as he extends his hand to me. i take his hold, his rough callouses scraping lightly over my palm and offer him an affirmative nod. his shadows wrap around me in a gentle caress and a blink later i find myself standing in a forest i assume to be just outside the reaches of the day court palace’s wards.

dropping my hand without a word, azriel strides off, leaving me with no other option but to follow.

* * *

the day passes on in pained silence, the only words spoken between us being questions about directions and reminders to drink water.

sometime around midday it starts to rain and despite the leathers keeping me somewhat dry, i feel as though the chill in the air has settled in my bones. or maybe it’s coming from this awkward distance that has developed between azriel and i.

by late afternoon, i can’t take it anymore, the silence suffocating me further with every passing breath. i stop in the middle of the narrow trail we stumbled across and shout in order to be heard over the pounding rain. “i’m sorry!!”

azriel freezes in his steps before whirling around to face me, eyes wide with alarm. after a quick scan of the surroundings reveals nothing, his expression shifts into one of confusion.

i continue as i walk towards him, my voice lowering as i draw closer. “i’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, especially right before our mission.”

“what--”

“i’m sorry, i really am. i just thought….well it’s just that…..i thought we were friends, azriel.” i finally manage to blurt out. “and i’m sorry for making assumptions and for crying, but please don’t ignore me any longer. i can’t handle three more days of silence, i’ll go mad. it doesn’t even matter what we talk about, it can be about rocks for all i care, as long as you talk to me. please.”

“aelis, i--”

“i just don’t get it,” i cut in, not allowing him a chance to speak. i know i should stop before i make everything worse than it already is, but between the freezing rain and the crushing silence i have suffered through all day, i’m just too weary and worn down to care right now. “when we talked the other day you were so encouraging….so caring. but then it was like…..it was like you just shut it off. one minute i thought we were friends, i thought we might have even--” i cut myself off before i say something i will truly regret. “but then you just, stopped. and you’ve barely looked at or spoken to me since. why azriel? why?” my voice cracks on the last word and i have to fight to keep the tears at bay.

he opens his mouth to respond, but then catches himself. my frustration and devastation transforms into anger at his lack of a response and i close the remaining distance between us, shoving his chest as hard as i can. “why? tell me why az?!” i practically scream at him, the rain washing away the tears that are now flowing down my cheeks.

i go to shove him again, but he catches my wrist, holding my hands tightly to his chest. “because i care for you.” he murmurs.

“what?” i say, my brain not able to truly process what he just said.

“i care for you aelis. i care for you so damned much that i have been plagued with worry since you insisted we do this mission. i know you are strong. i know you are capable. i know that you need to do this for yourself. and i would never get in the way of that. in fact, i am so fucking proud of how far you have come.”

i choke on the sob that fills my throat, trying my best to remain quiet during his confession. whether he notices or simply feels compelled to, azriel strokes his thumb along the line of my wrist in a comforting gesture.

“but that doesn’t mean i have not spent every hour since absolutely plagued with worry. i have stayed up each night thinking of every possible thing that could go wrong, every possible way you could be hurt. and all for a mission that might not even be successful. i pleaded with rhys, begged him to find another way, but there isn’t one. so instead, i have to just be okay with subjecting you to countless dangerous situations on the off chance that you will be able to retrieve that damned book. and i can’t stand it. i haven’t felt like this, thought like this, acted like this since…..aelis, i feel as though i’m going mad.” i can feel his heart pounding beneath my hand that is pinned to his chest, but he continues on.

“you were right when you said i turned it off. because i had to. i can’t think straight around you. and i can’t jeopardize this mission, i can’t jeopardize you because i can’t get my feelings in check. so i’m sorry that i’ve been distant, that i shut you out. it’s been killing me to not be able to talk with you. but if that’s what it takes to keep you safe, then i will remain silent until the flames claim me once again.”

i don’t respond, words failing me as i simply stare at him. his hair is slicked to his forehead from the rain and his eyes are filled with raw, unbridled emotion as he holds my gaze. finally, after an eternity that lasts only a moment, i find my voice.

“az.” his hold has loosened on my hands and i slip one free in order to reach up to his face. his skin is warm despite the rain and i can’t help but run my thumb gently across his cheek. his eyes flutter shut at my touch and i repeat the motion, reveling in the feeling of his smooth skin beneath my hand.

“az,” i repeat and his eyes slowly open once more, immediately capturing me with his gaze. “thank you. thank you for protecting me, for always keeping me safe. thank you for allowing me to do this. for pushing me and encouraging me and reminding me that i am capable over and over again until i got to this point. and thank you for caring for me. thank you for caring for me in a way no one ever has.” the tears are flowing freely down my cheeks now, but i make no effort to stop them.

his eyes glisten as he stares at me, whether from the rain or unshed tears, i’ll never know. releasing his hold on my other wrist, he slowly reaches up to cradle my jaw between his hands. “aelis,” he whispers, his voice almost lost amidst the sound of the storm.

and then, before i can even blink, his mouth is on mine. his soft, plush lips press against my own for a moment before they part, inviting me deeper. i lose myself in the feeling of his mouth moving slowly with mine in perfect harmony. his tongue traces the seam of my lips and i breath out a moan at the sensation.

thunder cracks loudly overhead and he pulls away, glancing around quickly before settling his gaze back on me. he rests his forehead against mine, chest heaving. after his breathing has settled he murmurs into the space between us, “i suppose we should try and find somewhere a little more dry.” his lips brush ever so lightly across my forehead and then he takes a step back, my body immediately growing colder at his absence.

i nod in response, my mind spinning too wildly from our kiss to form words. he gestures over his shoulder and we continue on down the trail in search of some sort of shelter from the rain. as we walk, i feel his fingers brush against mine every so often, momentarily chasing away the cold better than any fire could.

* * *

after an hour or so of walking with no signs of any cover, we pause for a few minutes to rest and hydrate. the rain has let up significantly, but my leathers are soaked through by this point. i cannot wait to slip into my spare clothes that have been kept safe and dry inside of the charmed pack i’ve been lugging around all day.

i excuse myself for a moment before we continue on and slip off into the woods to find some privacy to relieve myself. i am just headed back when i hear a noise behind me. spinning around, i find two large males stalking towards me. i turn to run back to where i left azriel only to find two more males boxing me in. i try to scream, but a hand clamps over my mouth before any sound is able to come out.

“well, well, well, look at what we stumbled across here.” a voice hisses in my hear and my skin crawls at the sound. my pack is pulled away and tossed to one of the other fae before the male pulls my back against his chest, his arms wrapping around me in a tight band i cannot escape, no matter how hard i struggle.

“got anything valuable in here?” one of the others sneers before flipping my pack upside down and dumping its content across the wet grass. when his search comes up empty handed he tosses the pack to the side, kicking my belongings into a mud puddle in frustration. “not even a single copper to make it worth our time!”

“well i’m sure she has something that will make this worth our time,” the man behind me murmurs and i fight harder against the vice grip he has on me when i feel his hand start to slither beneath the collar of my leathers. one of the others approaches and begins running his hands down my body, laughing cruelly at my muffled cries. just as his fingertips brush my waistband, he is suddenly thrown backwards by a shadowy force. i am pulled from the male’s hold and before i can ever register what is happening, azriel has already slaughtered all four males and is standing before me panting, his expression one of pure rage.

“are you okay?” he drops his sword in order to grab both my arms, his eyes rapidly scanning my body for any signs of injury. “aelis, are you okay?”

“y…yyy…yes,” i stutter, adrenaline coursing through my veins. “i’m fine.” my voice comes out more steady the second time. i can feel him teetering on the edge of control with the way his hands grip my arms just a little too tightly and the way his eye flit wildly across the landscape behind me, searching for any other attackers.

“hey,” i meet his gaze and muster the most reassuring smile i can manage. “i’m fine now. i promise.”

i watch as his eyes close for a moment and he inhales deeply, his breath stuttering slightly as he lets it out. fear and rage still cloud his stare, but he nods in response before turning to help gather my supplies and put them back into my now soaked pack.

he gives me an assessing look and mutters, “come one, let’s find somewhere for you to rest.” he hesitates for a moment before dipping his head to brush a whisper of a kiss to the top of my head. without another word he hands me my pack before retrieving his own from where he had dropped it to draw his weapons.

* * *

the rain that had settled down to a light mist picks back up into a heavy downfall over the next hour as we trudge through the forest. i am convinced we are going to have to spend a wet night on the freezing forest floor when azriel suddenly picks up his pace.

“follow me this way! my shadows found….” i don’t hear the rest of the words azriel yells over his shoulder at me as the pounding of the pouring rain drowns them out. i simply hug my soaked bag closer and rush after him, hoping that whatever his shadows found has a roof. we quickly reach a break in the dense woods and i spot a little cabin nestled amongst the trees on the other side of the clearing. i nearly cry in relief and pick up my pace, hoping whoever lives there will let us in, even if for just a few minutes of respite from the rain.

as i get closer, i notice the overgrown garden on the side of the house and the way the front door is ajar, hanging crookedly on its hinges. the cabin must be abandoned. azriel reaches the door a few paces before i do and holds up his hand, signaling for me to wait while he checks it out. as much as i don’t want to spend another second in the icy downpour, i also don’t have the energy to fight some cracked out faerie who might have found the broken down house before we did. azriel ducks his head as he walks through the doorway, disappearing into the shadows of the cabin. barely a minute passes before his head pokes back out and he waves me inside.

i sigh in relief as i step inside and no longer feel the beating of the rain on my back. i glance around the small interior, noticing the cabin only consists of two rooms. the one i’m currently in has a stove tucked in the corner, some cupboards, and a single chair next to a space where i imagine a kitchen table would go. next to the fireplace that makes up the other half the space is a small hallway that leads to what i would guess is the bedroom. the lack of furniture and layer of dust covering everything confirms my suspicion that no one lives here. in fact, it looks like no one has lived here for a very long time.

“it’s not much, but it’s out of the rain and clearly forgotten so we won’t have to worry about someone discovering us.” azriel says when i finish scanning the room.

“as long as i don’t have to spend the night out in that deluge i’m happy. tell your shadows thank you for finding this place.” a surprised look crosses his face and he stares at me strangely for a moment before giving me a stiff nod then turning to rifle through the cupboards.

while he searches for anything left behind that might be useful, i stand and stare at the empty fireplace, unsure of what i’m supposed to do. after a few minutes i realize that all that walking had been the only thing keeping me even remotely warm for the last few hours. despite the roof over my head, my leathers are already soaked through and a chill settles deep into my bones from the lack of warmth in this room.

i wrap my arms around myself and try my best not to shiver. despite my efforts, azriel quickly notices my discomfort.

“oh, i’m sorry. you’re absolutely soaked and the temperature is only going to keep dropping. i should have went and looked for something to start a fire with before rummaging through the house. i apologize. i’ll go right now. forgive me.”

he turns towards the door, but i grab his elbow to stop him before he can open it. “wait! please don’t apologize, it’s not your fault that it rained today and it’s certainly not your fault that it’s so cold out. we could have never predicted such a fierce storm so early into the fall season.”

i hear a soft chuckle and my gaze skips across his face, finding a small grin and a slight twinkle in his eyes. “do you really think i view myself so highly that i believe i can control the weather?” a dimple appears on his cheek as his grin widens ever so slightly and i find myself transfixed by it. “i was not apologizing because it rained, i was apologizing because you must obviously be freezing and it was thoughtless of me to not consider how to remedy that first.”

“also…” he pauses, his expression transforming into something much more serious while his eyes search my face. “nevermind,” he says after a moment, pulling his gaze from mine. “i’m going to go try and find something remotely dry to start a fire with. you should change out of those wet leathers while i’m out.”

i nod politely, but my eyes betray me by glancing quickly at the sodden bag in my arms and azriel immediately notices.

“oh, right. of course.” he says stiffly, as if remembering the circumstance of how my belongings were thrown into the mud and rain.

“not a problem.” he strides across the room to where his pack rests against the wall. “here.”

he pulls a bundle out and extends it towards me. it takes me a second to understand his meaning, but when i do, i immediately resist. “no! azriel, those are yours.”

“so? you need to get out of those freezing clothes before you make yourself sick from the cold.”

“so do you!” i argue back. “you’re not giving up your only dry clothes for something that was my-”

“it was not your fault.” i take a step back at the tone in his voice and the darkness in his eyes. i know azriel is intimidating and cold, i’ve seen it before and i saw it again earlier when he slaughtered my attackers with no hesitation. but, i have never been on the receiving end of it. the ice in his voice is colder than the freezing rain and i can’t suppress the chill that rushes through me.

his glare softens and some warmth returns to his voice, although a harsh edge still remains as he continues. “whatever conclusions you seem to have drawn that make you think that whatever happened earlier was in any way your fault, get rid of them. immediately.” the command in his voice is impossible to ignore and i find myself subconsciously obeying his instructions.

“and as for the clothing situation, i have a solution for that. as long as you can give me one minute to explain without arguing.” his face has entirely transformed from just moments ago, the cold expression completely erased and replaced with humor and teasing.

i open my mouth to respond and he raises his eyebrows slightly, a smirk tugging on the edges of his lips. i close my mouth and simply nod, glaring playfully but keeping quiet so he can explain.

his smirk widens ever so slightly at my mock indignation. “i always bring several spare pairs of socks, so no worries there. and you can wear my shirt. i figure you’re small enough that it should be plenty long on you. and i can just wear my spare pants while my leathers dry.” my eyes widen slightly at the thought of az with just pants on and he chuckles softly as if he knows what just crossed my mind. “will that work for you?”

i swallow, erasing the mental image of him shirtless and quickly nod. he smirks playfully before handing me the bundle he attempted to earlier. “good. now you change and i’m going to find something to burn.” and with that he moves past me and out the door, trudging into the pouring rain.

i head to the back room and shut the door behind me. the room is bare except for a bed with a threadbare quilt on it and a small dresser with a broken handle. i begin to peel off my wet clothing, struggling as the soaked material clings to my skin. when i get down to my underwear i hesitate, unsure if i should leave it on or not. a draft moves through the house and i shiver, quickly deciding i will never stop freezing if i don’t remove all my wet clothing.

a faint scent fills my nose as i pull az’s shirt over my head. it reminds me of a rainy forest, but not like the one we just spent our day traveling in. no, it’s like a forest right after a summer rain, everything smelling fresh and clean with just a hint of cedar and pine clinging around the edges. the dry cotton helps to ease the chill of my skin almost immediately. he was right. the shirt is so large on me it reaches past my mid-thighs and i have to roll the sleeves up several times in order to free my hands.

i pull on the wool socks and then gather up my soaking clothes before heading back into the main room. i’m surprised to find him already back inside, kneeling in front of the fireplace with a stack of wood next to him.

“well that was quick,” i comment quietly, suppressing the urge to fidget as i realize that although the shirt covers plenty, i have more of my legs exposed than i have ever intentionally had out before.

“i found a woodshed out back. it has plenty of wood and almost all of it was still dry. i don’t know who built this place, but whoever did knew how to build a solid roof because both the house and the woodshed-” he stops talking as he turns to address me. i notice his nostrils flare ever so slightly as his eyes quickly rake over me, lingering on my legs for a moment.

i feel a blush creeping up my face as he stares. a rush of heat washes over me as i notice the look in his eyes. no one has ever looked at me like that. camden always looked at me like a possession, something he deserved simply for existing. but azriel is looking at me with what seems like awe, and maybe something else. i avert my gaze to the floor, embarrassed by his attention and feeling unworthy of the reverence in his eyes.

after a moment that feels like an eternity, he clears his throat and continues speaking. “both the house and the woodshed are completely dry, not a single leak anywhere.” when i look at him again, his attention is fixed on the fireplace in front of him, his body turned slightly away from me as if he is using it as a physical reminder not to look at me again.

“i’ll have this fire going in just a minute or two. it shouldn’t take long for the cabin to warm up.”

“thank you,” i mumble quietly while padding across the floor to sit in the lone chair. the wood is freezing, even through the shirt, but it’s better than standing awkwardly in the hallway while he builds the fire.

true to his word, the fire is blazing in no time at all, its bright flames illuminating the rapidly darkening room.

i move over to the fire, taking the chair with me. i drape my wet clothes over the back of the chair to dry, while azriel digs through his bag for his dry clothing. i watch as he turns back towards me, clothing in hand. his gaze moves towards mine, but stops and fixates on the chair. an emotion i can’t identify passes over his face before his features harden.

“i’m going to change.” azriel quickly moves past me to head to the bedroom and closes the door, never once looking at me.

i sit on the floor, too stunned to do anything else. what just happened? i thought we had sorted through our issues earlier? did what happened with those nasty males set him off again? i sit and ponder in silence for a long while until i hear the bedroom door open again.

i shake off my confusion and unease and try to act normal.

any sense of normalcy immediately flies out the window the second i turn and see az. he enters the room and all i can do is stare. he’s wearing loose cotton pants that hang dangerously low on his hips. my eyes greedily scan the smooth expanse of his broad chest and lean abdomen, noticing every line and dip of his defined muscles. when he walks past me and lays his leathers out to dry, i watch the muscles of his back ripple as he moves.

i need to stop staring before our situation gets more uncomfortable and weird than it was before he changed. i pull my eyes off of him and stare at my hands, unsure of what i’m supposed to do.

i hear more movement and rustling, but refuse to look, knowing i won’t be able to resist the urge to stare at his body. after a moment a hand appears before me holding bread and cheese.

“it’s not much, but it will at least tie us over until tomorrow when i can find us something more substantial to eat.”

“thank you,” i reply softly while risking a glance up to his face. i find him staring at the wall, not looking at me and my heart drops.

we eat our food in silence.

a little while after we finish i hear azriel clear his throat. “well we should probably get some sleep so we can get an early start tomorrow. hopefully the rain will let up by then. the room is probably warmer now that the fire has been going so hopefully you shouldn’t freeze while you sleep.”

i nod and then stand and start to head back to the bedroom, but pause when i don’t hear him following. i turn around and watch as he pulls the thin blanket out of his pack and begins unrolling it on the floor.

“you’re not sleeping out here are you?” i ask, horrified by the thought of him having to sleep on the dirty, hard floor.

“well, yes. i was.”

“no. no. absolutely not.”

azriel gives me a confused look before responding. “why not? i’ve slept on the floor plenty of times before.”

“you’re not sleeping on the floor when there is a perfectly good bed here!”

“and let you sleep on the floor?”

yes! i think to myself, knowing full well he would have been able to make it to a comfortable, dry inn tonight if it weren’t for me slowing him down.

“absolutely not! i can’t believe you think i would let you sleep on the floor while i take the bed!”

“well it only seems fair since-”

“i swear to the cauldron if you try to blame yourself for this too i am going to lose my mind.” the visible tension in his jaw reveals how hard azriel is trying to keep his frustration under control.

“but-”

“stop! just stop. i will not argue with you about this, aelis. whatever reason you have concocted in your head as to why this situation is your fault is silly. and i won’t listen to it. so just stop.”

“okay,” i watch the tension in his body lessen slightly as i comply. “but i’m not sleeping in that bed if you’re sleeping on the floor.” his shoulders immediately lock back up again.

“well i’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”

“fine, i guess we will both have to sleep in the bed then.” the second the words come flying out of my mouth i wish i could take them back.

azriel’s eyebrows raise questioningly for just a moment before he replies, “fine.”

i search his face for any signs that he is joking, but he’s completely serious. my heart starts pounding at the thought of both of us in the same bed. i have never ever under any circumstances slept in the same bed as anyone before, much less a male. i can’t believe i suggested it. almost as much as i can’t believe that he agreed.

not wanting him to see the embarrassment written all over my face, i quickly turn and head into the bedroom. i hear him rise from the floor, grab the blanket, and follow.

unsure of what to do now that i have reached the bedroom, i stand awkwardly next to the bed and turn towards azriel as he also enters the room.

“after you,” he says while gesturing towards the bed, the edge of a smirk playing at his lips as he senses my unease.

i stiffly turn and crawl onto the bed, moving as close to the wall as i can. the bed looked plenty large enough when i was standing next to it, but now that i’m in it, the space next to me looks much, much smaller.

without hesitation, az joins me on the bed.

i watch as he struggles to position himself and his wings on his half off the bed. i never realized what an inconvenience having wings must be until now as he moves them yet again. after fumbling and readjusting for several minutes he finally settles on laying on his side, facing me, with his wings draped over the edge of the bed.

"sorry," he says quietly, "sometimes it takes me a while to find a comfortable position when i'm not in my own bed."

my eyes quickly scan his body. i notice how his feet hang slightly off the end of the bed clearly not made for someone of his stature. i look at his shoulders which are visibly tense from the weight of his huge wings hanging with no alleviation since there is no room on the bed for him to rest them.

"you still don't look very comfortable," i say as my gaze returns to his.

“i’ve slept in much more uncomfortable places before.”

“so you admit you’re not comfortable.”

“well, i don’t exactly have a lot of options with wings and a bed this size.”

“i could always just sleep on the floor, that would give you more room to position your wings.”

“no.” his answer is entirely predictable, but i figured i would at least try one last time. at least this time i was able to get out my entire request without interruption before he shot me down.

“well, still. i’m sorry you’re not very comfortable.”

“like i said, i’ve slept in much more uncomfortable places. i’ll be fine.” and with that he spreads the threadbare quilt and thin blanket across us. they won’t do much to keep me warm, but they are better than nothing and the heat from the fireplace has warmed the room slightly. regardless, i doubt the chill in my bones will fully leave me tonight.

due to his wings, az has no other choice than to lay facing me. after just a few minutes, i roll over to face the wall, unable to lie there with him staring at me any longer. changing position does little to help as i can still feel the weight of his gaze on my back and the presence of his body so close to mine. i’m convinced i’ll never be able to sleep knowing he’s right there, but somehow, i eventually drift off.

* * *

the first thing i notice is the warmth. i’m so warm. i don’t know if i can remember the last time i was this warm. it definitely wasn’t anytime on this journey. i smile softly in my drowsy state, content at last now that the cold i couldn’t seem to shake from my system has left.

after dwelling in the bliss of warmth for a few moments i start to notice other things. like how the surface beneath my head is hard. i must have rolled off my pillow at some point in the night. i start to slide my hand up to find the pillow, but freeze the instant my hand slides across bare skin.

my eyes fly open and all i see is smooth, tanned skin broken up by dark swirls and shapes in ancient patterns. my mind whirls as it tries to catch up and….shit. shit. my head is resting on az’s shoulder and my arm is thrown across his waist and, oh gods. somehow during the night, my leg ended up draped over the top of one of his thighs while his wing ended up wrapped around me. no wonder i’m so warm, i’m literally laying intertwined with az!

my only saving grace is that his shirt is so long that whenever i decided to roll on top of him during the night, it tucked between my thighs so my bareness isn’t pressed directly against him right now.

i don’t know what to do. i can’t stay like this. if he wakes up and finds me practically straddling him i’ll die of embarrassment and humiliation. but if i move and he wakes up, same result.

after steadying my breathing for a moment, i slowly begin the process of removing myself from az’s body. i move slower than i thought possible, watching him for any signs he might be waking up.

after what feels like an eternity i finally manage to get myself completely off of him and quickly roll over to face the wall again, letting out a sigh of relief as i do. my relief is short-lived as i feel the mattress move beneath me a moment before a strong arm wraps around my waist and az pulls himself closer, his chest flush with my back and his wing curling in around us.

my breath catches in my throat. what is happening. i listen carefully, not moving until i notice his breaths haven’t changed. he’s still breathing steady and slow. oh, thank the cauldron, he’s still sleeping. he must have just moved unconsciously like i did. i begin breathing again, but try to remain still, not wanting him to wake and experience the same fear and embarrassment i just did moments prior.

after a while my muscles relax as i settle into him, secretly enjoying the feeling of his arm around me and the warmth of his chest against my back. we continue to lay like this for several more minutes and i feel as though i might fall asleep again when he moves.

just slightly, nothing more than him readjusting. but, the movement pushes his hips tighter against my ass and my heart skips a beat. a moment later, he does the same movement again, but more purposeful. another moment later, again. warmth builds low in my core at the sensation. as he does the movement once more, i feel him harden against me and a rush runs through me.

i’m fighting every urge in my body to move against him, both thrilled and terrified by what is happening.

all of a sudden i feel his entire body go tense behind me, like he’s frozen. i hear his breath catch and an almost silent curse leave his lips before he goes silent once more. i try to keep my body still and my breathing steady, not wanting to give away how awake i am in this moment. slowly, he pulls his arm off of me and carefully pushes himself away until the only thing touching me is the wing that remains slightly curled around me.

my back feels suddenly cold without his chest against me. confusion begins to cloud my mind as i run through everything that just happened. i have never reacted like that to a male. ever. i have always wanted to distance myself, to get it over with as quick as possible. and yet, when i felt az against me, i wanted nothing more than to move closer, to continue whatever he had unknowingly started.

i continued to ponder these thoughts and feelings over and over until sunlight breaks through the small window, signaling the start to our day.

thanks for reading and lmk what you think! i love hearing all your feedback!!!

taglist: @lennaleen @mis-lil-red

23 notes · View notes

alfieetheringtonstinginthetale · 2 years ago

Text

ok so after all the previous sketching and various doctor designs I came up with a look that managed to keep more in line with being a bit more realistic while still keeping some aspect for stylisation.

So this was the base I wound up with by the end of it, the facial build and baggy eyes were came up with with a variety of different concepts taken from previous scientists designs I drew, as I mentioned this is a base meaning I used this as said bass to draw different accessories and clothing on different layers

these designs hair styles and outfits were all made with the purpose of trying to narrow down a concept by giving myself as many options for experimentation with the design as possible, for instance some outfits are more basic 1800 scientist apparel and others, while others are more disheveled and run down looking almost looking as if the outfits represents the character having an entire different careers, the hairs are also based on the different fictional scientists I’ve studied so fair, the last thing to talk about here is the robot eye, which was more creation in mind for the outfit of the raggedy looking labcoat, to sort of give off that vibe of a mad scientist who’s seen better days living in a scrap yard and managed to replace a missing or defunct eye with the leftover parts around him, one last thing to mention in the next paragraph

The little fella shown below is an idea I came up with of a sort of goofy looking gear creature that’s supposed to be a this voice in the mad scientists head embodied by being this cute little gear creature, maybe he’s a form of moral conscious for the morally bankrupt scientist or maybe his silly appearance is just a ruse and he instead makes the scientist double down on all there immoral and cruel experiments personally I prefer the second option personally, there not a character really though there more a voice in the head of the scientist that’s given a visual look.

overall there’s all my work for the scientist concepts nothing here is exactly perfect and still pretty rough but I’m pretty proud of the amount of assets and things i managed to create for this concept section of things.

0 notes

huenjin · 4 years ago

Text

and they were roommates.

summary — who would have thought that a very naked sight of your best friend and a torn shower curtain in the rainiest of weathers could start romance? or in which you start falling for your childhood best friend, lee minho, unaware that he’s always been in love with you.

pairing — lee minho x reader, ft. binsung.

genre — fluff, smut, crack | roommates!au, bff2l!au

rating — 18+

word count — 11k words.

note — smut warnings under the cut, ofc! i suck at making summary adagafga!! but but but, i promise this story is adorable, okay, minus all that smut, my lame humor and those bit of rushed parts? this took forever and i'm so sorry for all that had to wait, especially the one who requested this uwuwu.

smut warnings — a lot of kissing, a lot of swearing, mentions of naked exposure, fingering, cunnilingus, riding/reader on top, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you snap it), choking. there isn't a loooot of smut either, ah! so enjoy the fluff ride.

"You idiot," you scream, loud enough for your neighbours to hear. You pull out the keys that hang outside in the key hole and pull open the door. "How could you leave the keys outside, Minho?"

"I mean, what if someone stole it?" You throw your keys and Minho's into the small box on a ledge by the door. Removing your shoes, you put on the pair of your house shoes by the side and walk further into the apartment. "Or what if someone broke in? You could get killed, you dumb hoe! Or worse, our new television could get stolen."

You hear no response and just the loud sound of shower running in the bathroom hits the walls of your shared apartment. You walk to your room, passing by the common bathroom, after throwing your bag on the sofa. You talk on the way, yelling in hopes that he would hear.

"Did you walk back in the rain? There's no other reason as to why I did not see you after college. Jisung was searching for you too, Minho."

You change into a pair of shorts and black camisole, pulling your hair up and knotting it, all while your ears pick up the small humming from the bathroom. You shake your head at the fact that since it's Lee Minho in the shower, he is probably going to take his own time to come out. After all, he is the reason why your water bill is so high.

"Yah, Lee Minho!" You walk outside and hit the door with your fists to bring at least a little of his attention towards you. "Do you want the leftovers or should I get food delivered?"

"Delivery!" he screams back, hearing the shower sounds lower and you yell back in response, "Okay," and walk back to the living room, falling back and plopping down on the comfortable rexine covered sofa.

Your phone rings in the next minute and you are pulling it from your pocket quickly all because you are bored out of your mind. It is also because your stupid best friend from the god forbidden age of five to till this date, takes forever to get out from the shower.

It's Jisung. Not that you would have a doubt even if you had picked up without looking at the name on the screen — your friend circle is that small. It has just been you, Minho and Jisung majorly for almost three fourth of your life, the other one fourth of it with you having your parents as your best friends. Jisung had always been the annoying kid in the playground that pushed you off the swing because he wanted to play and Minho had always been the knight in shining armour in your local playground, the defender of all things right as he saved you from Jisung's frustrating taunts.

And then your mother — oh dear, she is the reason why you are still stuck with Minho's rich arse (mostly because she thought too that this is the finest her very antisocial daughter would ever find in a man) — decides that since Lee Minho was so kind to save her poor damsel-like daughter, he might as well do it forever. Fast forward to present day, and you are still cleaning up after him.

"Did Minho reach home?" Jisung asks as soon as you answer the call. You roll your eyes and shift your position to one that allows you to stretch your leg against the length of the sofa.

"Oh, hi, Y/N," you fake your tone, mocking Jisung's ignorance. "Did you reach home safely? Did you get caught in the rain? Oh no!" And then quickly changing it back to normalcy, "Yes, Jisung. I reached home safely. The rain did get heavy as I walked back home but nothing to worry. Did you reach home safely?"

Jisung is laughing loudly on the other end. "Sorry, Y/N," he makes a weird kissing sound and you pull your phone away from your ear. "I presume Minho's safe at home, else you would be the one to crash my phone with the endless calls in worry of his safety. Ha!"

"He got caught in the rain," you sigh. "I hope he's okay though. I would have mentioned how he was, had he just come out of that goddamn bathroom but no! It almost seems like he is rebuilding the whole bathroom." Jisung laughs so loud that you have to pull the phone away from your ear again.

"Dude, dude, dude," Jisung calls out for you through the line.

"Yeah?"

"You and Minho are totally like my parents fighting."

"Do you want to get punched in your face, Han Jisung?" You sit up straight, folding your leg across each other and bending forward, your elbow digging into your thigh as your hand supports your head.

"And my boyfriend would punch yours if you punched mine," he huffs and you know he is talking about Seo Changbin. At a good five feet and six inches, the shorter male befriended Jisung and then wooed him over in grade eleven with some weird shining universe experiment for a science project and the Han Jisung you had always known, fell for the gesture immediately. They began dating a week after, making Changbin the only other human being you willingly chose to become closer to.

"Like Minho would let that," you click your tongue and Jisung laughs again, mumbling, "How have you guys not slept with each other yet? You guys are roommates."

"I'll kill you, Han Jisung."

"Like you would." The minute Jisung taunts back, you hear a loud noise of something crashing down and the sound is from the bathroom. You jump upwards, quickly hanging up without even telling Jisung that you were leaving as you drop your phone and rush towards the bathroom, taking huge steps to reach before the door in less than a few seconds.

You slam your fist against the door, over and over again, yelling, "Yah," to draw his attention before asking, "Minho, are you okay? I'm coming in," and you pull open the door to the common bathroom. A decision you wish you had not chosen but one you had to take for his safety.

Before a very surprised you lay a very, very naked Lee Minho, groaning with his back against the cold white tiles of the bathroom, neck lifting his head above to instinctively avoid hitting the floor. His hand holds a huge piece of the shower curtain that he must have tried holding onto before falling and as the colour drains from your face, lips wide apart, staring at your naked best friend in shock who is staring back at you, it dawns upon you quickly.

You immediately slap your hand over your eyes and scream as loud as you could possibly, "Fuck, fuck. I just saw your schlong, oh my god!"

"Are you not going to look at me at all now that you saw my dick?"

Minho rolls his eyes at you as a soft groan leaves his lip while he tries to make himself more comfortable on his bed. This time, he is fully clothed, black shirt over his torso and navy blue shorts. You are sitting on a small chair by his side, Chinese herbal medicinal mix in a white ceramic bowl, a tub filled with warm water and a towel and long white bandages on the table by the bed. The Chinese herbal medicinal mix was something your mother specifically ordered you to prepare for the boy before you.

You hand him a cup of warm water first which he takes and is about to swallow it down when you look at the wooden bedpost behind him and mumble, "But I saw your womb raider." Minho chokes on the water before coughing and you quickly pat his back which leads him to cry softly in pain and you are left apologising over and over again for being reckless.

He places the cup on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he narrows his eyes at you and questions, "Womb raider? What the fuck?"

"You know, your schlong," you look away, heat rising up to your cheek. "I saw your schlong, a womb raider."

"I can't believe you call a dick that," he groans, rolling his eyes as if he has completely given up on you, "After having your womb raided enough by many womb raiders."

You look away, taking the ceramic bowl in your hand and mumbling, "None of them were long and thick enough to be called a womb raider though."

"Did you say anything, Y/N?"

"Nothing," you yell and glare at him, cheeks still hot with the image still vivid in your head. "You can't look disappointed in me," you frown at him, "I should be disappointed. You tore the shower curtain."

"It was a mistake!" Minho gasps and tries to sit up but quickly ditches the plan when he feels the spin surge through him. You place the bowl back on the table and push yourself forward to help Minho sit up, your arms wrapped around his waist, your chest against his as you slowly pull him up. Minho explains himself, "If I didn't hold onto that, I would have gotten injured worse. I'm almost perfect now. It's just the slight—" You press your palm against his back and he seethes in pain.

"Slight pain, indeed," you scoff and finally let him rest against the bedpost. "This should do the magic though." You lift the ceramic bowl again and wave it before him, shoving the weird smelling green substance right in front of his nose. "My mother totally said it would work. She also said that you would have to be on the bed resting the whole day."

"You'll be my maid the whole day," Minho lights up, face instantly shining and you sigh, "Do I have an option? After this day though, we are going to buy shower curtains and you are going to pay for it because you tore it." You accuse him and he clicks his tongue.

"Fine."

"Remove your shirt now," you order and he looks at you, a teasing glint glistening in his eyes and he smiles, moving slightly closer.

"Why? Are you going to call my abs washboard now? That you could do laundry on them?" He purses his lips and leans forward and you push him back, his aching back hitting the bedpost again and Minho is crying with pain on the soft impact, albeit this time, you worry if it is fake. "Y/N," he cries, clamping down against his lower teeth hard, "Can you go easy on me?"

"Then stop teasing me!"

"Fine!" He huffs and looks away, "Help me out of this shirt now."

"What? Why? You put the shirt on fine. Can't you remove it on your own?" You question him, the ceramic bowl securely on your lap. Minho stares at you for the longest time ever and you stare back.

Has his eyes always been this tender? Has his skin always been this soft? Was Lee Minho always this charming and pretty to look at?

This is all because you saw his stupidly good dick, argh!

Minho finally answers, "It's harder to remove a shirt than to wear it." You shake your head and your eyes narrow to crinkled slits as you watch your best friend for a second more before placing the crucible back on the table and bending yourself forward to hold tightly the ends of his black shirt. You lift the black material up and remove it from his torso, exposing his abdomen and chest to the warm breeze in the air.

He stares at you and you stare at him back, only till you take the white ceramic bowl again and hopefully the last time and you raise an eyebrow at him, mocking him, "Aren't you going to give me the classic Wattpad naked white male line?"

"What line?"

He looks confused and you laugh, holding the bowl tightly, "You know, the—" You try to lower the pitch of your voice and to sound as cocky as possible, smirking, "Like what you see, baby girl?"

Minho laughs with you till he calms himself down a little, tilts his head and in the most guttural voice you have ever heard your best friend ever go, he repeats, "Like what you see, my baby girl?"

Your heart should not have sped up. Your fingers should not have tightened against the cold white crucible. You should not have pressed your thighs against each other. You should not have had your throat dried up at his very words. But it did and you are staring at Lee Minho in an angle you had never seen him.

When did that stupid five year old boy who thought he could save the whole world grow up into this man?

"Uh, Y/N," Minho waves his hand in front of you, trying to bring your attention back. "Are you going to apply the medicine or? I mean, it's cold."

"Oh yeah," you stutter. "Yeah, yeah, I was about to. Can you turn back so that I can apply it on your back?"

"Yeah," he nods and pressing his hands into the mattress, he shifts himself, turning a one hundred and eight degrees away from you so that his back is facing yours. "This okay?"

"Yeah," you agree. You bend your arm forward to take the cloth soaked in warm water and you press it against his back. Minho bites his tongue in pain, eyes watering before he can't take it anymore and he turns back to face you.

"Minho?"

"Can I do that thing you allowed me to do whenever I was in pain and you had to take care of me?" He asks, unsure, "Am I allowed?"

You nod, softly, smiling warmly at the man before you and you lift the chair up slightly. Minho quickly wraps his arms around your waist, his face buried into your soft chest as he edges closer to you. You place the warm cloth again on his broad back and Minho does what he has always done to combat pain.

He bites into your flesh softly, hard enough to trigger something weird within you at this age but soft enough to not cause any pain.

Your eyes widen and your thighs tighten a bit but Minho is unaware to all this as he snuggles into your warmth, head fuzzy with the pain that throbs through his entire back. After a few minutes, you place the cloth back on the table and hold the crucible tightly. You dig your forefinger and middle finger into the green mix before applying it on his back, soft circles to calm him down and Minho lets go of your flesh, although he still continues to snuggle into you, his thick arms tightening around your frame.

"You're comfortable to hug," he mumbles as you apply the medicine all over his back, his face occasionally pressing against your breast and you gulp, reminding yourself that this is your best friend, that this is the kid you've seen in all his embarrassments.

"Of course, I am," you laugh. "It doesn't pain that much, does it?"

"Not anymore."

"Good," and you apply another layer over the existing one. "Because if you say anything else to my mother, I swear to God, Lee Minho, I will—"

You don't complete. Minho laughs — soft, precious laughter that fills the air and engages your ears. He tilts his head to look up at you from his lower angle. You look down only to come in direct vision of his bright, glistening eyes that hold the stars behind them and his oh-so-flawless skin that you are envious of. Your heart beat escalates and you are about one hundred percent sure that Minho is aware. After all, he did have his ear against your chest in this position.

"Fine, fine," his voice is airy and you could listen to it the whole day. "I'll tell your mother that her daughter took care of me perfectly, alright?"

"Perfect," you smile. "Now sit up straight. I need to bandage you up, just in case." Minho begrudgingly pulls back, a soft whimper leaving his lips before he huffs, folding his arms and sitting straight, looking you in the eyes and you gulp.

"I'll be fine in a day, Y/N," Minho whines and you shake your head, mumbling, "Just in case." You turn your body to grab hold of the white roll of bandage before you beckon for him to come a little closer as you wrap the bandage over his torso, covering the medicinal herbs sticking to his body now.

"You, in fact," you chuckle as you tighten the bandage and Minho seethes in pain at having his muscles pressed. You rub his hair affectionately before continuing, "You, Lee Minho, should be ready enough to cash out money for the shower curtain."

"Fine, fine, fine," Minho huffs only to break out into a smile as he looks at you. "We'll go as soon as I don't think I'll die if I stand up and straighten my back, okay?"

"Perfect," you laugh and pull yourself away from your best friend, clipping the bandage in the exact manner. You help him lie back against the soft mattress. You pick up the crucible and the tub of water as you stand up.

"Y/N," Minho calls out for you and you turn, your head gliding against the joint and your eyebrows rising up in question.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," he smiles, eyes closed and face so soft that you do want to hold it.

"For what?"

"For taking care of me, doofus. What would I have done had you not been there? You are my knight in shining armour now."

You laugh but your heart is furiously beating against your chest, thrumming against it so loudly that you can hear the beats. Your cheeks flush with heat and you look away, mumbling, "It's nothing," and walk away. You close the door quickly and fall against the vast wooden door finally, away from his presence and you hold the bowls close to you.

Fuck. When did your heart start beating this hard for the same man that you once knew as the stupid five year old with elephant print trunks? When did your heart start thrumming so loudly against your chest for your only best friend?

Either ways, you are doomed. Inevitably.

Jisung: baby, i think it's about time Changbin: for what? Jisung: you know, how we always said those two should probably fuck Changbin: yeah? Jisung: the sexual tension is too high. can we get it over with already and have them date already? Changbin: you've been trying this forever and you failed. Jisung: don't remind me. you're my boyfriend, support me. Changbin: fine! go, sungie!! i love you either way though.

It is exactly three days after the I-exposed-my-cock incident that Lee Minho agrees to go with you to buy the shower curtains.

"Can't we just buy it online?" He had whined, arms folding against each other as he scrolled through his phone. You stand by the sofa, head shaking in disappointment as you reason back, frustrated, "The material," and you hit his arm. Minho winces. "The material is important. I won't compromise on that. Plus, you promised that you would come with me to buy something that you tore. Isn't that only fair?"

Minho does so. After bargaining with him for one tub full of mint chocolate ice cream that you will never understand why he loves so much.

That is exactly how you find yourself here in this shop, shopping cart in your hand and Minho by your side.

"We are only buying the shower curtain," you tell him, staring at the half full shopping cart. "So I don't understand why we need all these."

Minho smiles sheepishly at you. He then points at the two tubs of ice cream and says, "One for you, and one for me. I even chose your favorite flavor!" He continues to point at each article and tell why he needs them very articulately and you stand there in surprise before breaking his speech.

"Fine, fine!" You push the cart ahead. "Now let's just go and get what we came here for." Minho follows you, his one hand on the shopping cart handle to keep pace with you. The two of you stop right in front of the array of curtains in different colours, some on display and some packaged and you smile, whispering under your breath, "Tada." Minho looks at you softly, at the small voice of joy that escapes your lips and he just watches you light up in fascination at something as simple as shower curtains.

Fuck, he loves your domesticity.

"Let's take this," Minho announces as he stretches his arms out to hold onto a pretty blue shower curtain. You hold it in between your fingers feeling the texture before announcing, "No."

"But why?" Minho whines, following your footsteps as you hold onto another shower curtain.

"Because it's polythene," you frown at your best friend. Minho looks at you, confused, his eyebrows furrowing as they look at you like you have grown another pair of hands and legs.

"And so?"

"You could tear it again!"

"It happened once," he sighs, frustrated. "Once. It's not like I'm waiting to fall in the shower, tear the curtain and have you see my dick all the time, babe."

Your cheeks flush at his announcement and the tag he calls you by, your eyes looking away from his pretty face for a split second. Minho shakes his hand, taking a step forward to check a few other shower curtains out when the two of you hear a very familiar voice from behind, in the most professional manner ever.

"Sir, the one you chose is perfect. It is very durable and doesn't stain on contact with water—"

"Han Jisung?" Minho turns, the words of shock leaving his mouth almost instantly. You turn impulsively, eyes wide.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?"

"Hey," you narrow your eyes at the other male. "I could file a report for bad customer service about now, Sungie."

He folds his arms and looks at the two of you suspiciously, "What are you guys doing here?" He raises an eyebrow at you, scoffing at you, "Like you would."

"What does it look like we're doing here, Sungie?" You bite back jokingly and Jisung laughs, gaze shifting between the two of you.

"I don't know," he runs a hand through his hair before folding his arms again, his fluorescent yellow uniform crumbling with the shift in his arms. "Is this some sort of a new way to date?"

"We aren't—" You quickly start when Minho pulls a curtain forward and breaks your sentence before you can complete as he asks Jisung, "This isn't polythene, is it?"

"Are you stupid?" Jisung frowns before he laughs. "That's clearly polythene. Minho, dude, you're a chemical engineering student. You have got to be kidding me if you can't identify polythene."

Minho doesn't pay heed to Jisung's words. You, on the other hand, stare at your best friend who walks away from you to examine more shower curtains. Did Lee Minho really ask Jisung, a literature student, whether that was polythene — What in the world?

"Y/N? Earth to Y/N?" Jisung snaps your attention back to the present. "Are you going to buy shower curtains today?"

"Yeah?"

"But your shower curtains were fine the last time I came home." You understand Jisung's surprise because the last time he did come home was five days back and the shower curtain was in a perfect condition. "What happened?"

You stretch your arms and point at Minho. The very culprit rolls his eyes before raising his eyebrows and sighing, voicing in the most dramatic voice you have ever heard Minho take, "Yes, Y/N. Yes, Ji. It's me. I tore the shower curtain because I fell in the shower."

"Ouch," Jisung acknowledges Minho's injury before walking past the two of you and taking a shower curtain. "Here's one. You might like this, Y/N."

"It's not PVC, Sungie."

Jisung wants to hit your head, terribly. Perhaps it's your adamance that is the reason as to why your friendship is this tight and strong but in moments like these, he likes Minho more. Minho stands by the side, arms folded and back resting against the wall as he trusts your judgement.

"Are you not going to tell her anything?"

"She handles all this at home. Give her what she wants, Ji," he laughs, fiddling with a few more shower curtains by his side. Jisung shakes his head in disappointment before mumbling, a soft frustrated groan leaving his lips as he throws his head back, "Definitely a married couple," and takes a few polyvinyl chloride made shower curtains.

"Here," he presses his lips. "Don't blame me if the designs aren't that great. You don't get that many good designs in PVC. People go for polythene because it's more available."

"PVC doesn't tear and it's easy to clean!"

"Seconding this as a chemical engineering student," Minho chirps in from behind. You and Jisung turn to look at the man who is on his phone currently and shake your head lightly. "What?"

"He remembers his major now!" Jisung clicks his tongue. "All say, praise the Lord."

"I'm agnostic." You frown.

"More reasons for you to say it easily!"

You find a plain one in the ones he showed you and you take it. Jisung smiles finally, mumbling, "You're a frustrating customer."

"Nah," you scoff. Minho pushes himself off the wall as soon as he sees you done with the selection. "I just know what I want exactly. You, on the other hand, sweetheart," you poke his chest and Jisung chuckles. "You're a pathetic salesperson."

"Of course," he laughs the insult away. "I'm a literature student. I should be working in a publishing company as a part timer."

Minho takes the shower curtain from your hand and puts it in the cart by the side. He comes back, throwing his arm over Jisung's shoulder and frowns, "Apparently publishing companies care a lot more about who your parents are than your resume."

"It's just that publishing company," the other male looks down. "I'll try applying for another one soon."

"Do you want to grab a drink at our place tonight?"

"Can I?"

"Sure," Minho agrees. He drops his arm from Jisung's shoulder and holds the cart handle back, pushing it forward slightly. You take big strides to stand by Minho's side, also holding the handle slightly. Jisung raises his eyebrows at the two of you and with a smile that you don't think twice about, Jisung laughs.

"I'm coming over tonight."

"Sure," you throw your thumbs up at him, stretching your arm. Minho smiles softly at you, his eyes lingering a little longer at your happy figure and he feels his heart beat a little quicker at your sight. Your hair strands framing your face so beautifully, eyes shining the minute you find the exact thing you've had in your mind and your lips curving upwards in joy.

Lee Minho finds the calmness that spring brings him every year in him all over again with you by his side.

"Bring the soju. Beer is on us!"

Jisung: binnie, binnie!! Changbin: yes, baby? Jisung: i think i have a plan. Changbin: let them be, babe. Jisung: we let them be all these years! they pinned after each other without even knowing and we had to see that painfully! Changbin: i guess you make a valid point there Jisung: is it going to rain today? Changbin: it's been raining for the last few days, sungie. it could. just because i study geography as my minor doesn't mean i can forecast weather. hey! Jisung: fine~ i'm going to get them to confess tonight 👀 Changbin: don't mess up. istg Jisung: trust me 🥺 Changbin: i do. more than ever ❤️

Jisung reaches your doorstep at sharp nine. With two bottles of soju in his hands, you see the stains of the droplets of rain falling onto his shoulder.

It is drizzling for now and you worry if it is to rain heavily in a few minutes as the forecast mentioned. You hate the thunder. You hate how the weather changes drastically and worsens to a point that it frightens you and makes you anxious. It's a phobia you have managed to hide from everyone for fears of being treated weaker.

Jisung makes himself at home. He always has. He places the soju bottles on the kitchen countertop and Minho smiles to himself as he walks towards the point where Jisung has happily seated himself. Minho and you are on the other end of the counter while Jisung sits on the adjustable chair, swirling in it before stopping and facing you, Minho and the bottles of soju before him.

"Did it finally hit him?"

"I think?" You whisper back.

"I'm right here!" Jisung yells and you smile. Minho pulls the chair from under the counter and sits himself opposite the other male, pressing his lips together and trying to not laugh. He opens the bottle of soju after shaking it and hitting it against his elbow for a while. It clinks open, the metal hitting the glass before falling onto the table and you watch the two, as Minho pours a drink for Jisung.

He downs it in one go, letting out a loud sigh before stretching his arms and demanding a second one.

"Go easy, Sungie. You have the whole night."

"I don't," he huffs. "Now, please."

Minho pours it again before looking at you and you shake your head to indicate that you wouldn't mind a few. You grab hold of one of the empty cups on the counter before stretching your arm too. Minho laughs – a soft chuckle, so airy and light that you find yourself holding your breath for a small second there – and he pours you your drink.

You twirl your drink, watching the liquid glide against the surface of the cup. Your best friend gets up and walks a little into the kitchen to open the fridge and grab a box of leftovers of fried chicken that you bought a few days ago. He pulls open the microwave to heat it and as he waits, he turns to look back at Jisung and asks him finally.

"Do you want me to drop a word to my uncle?"

"About?"

"He heads the Cheongsam Publication," Minho reveelas, pulling out the chicken from the microwave. He places it before the two of you and almost like you and Jisung were zoomed in, in an American sitcom, both of you gasp dramatically.

"Am I really your best friend?" Jisung yells and you narrow your eyes at Minho. Faking tears in his eyes, he persists in questioning, "Do I not matter to you, Minho?"

"Why are you rooming with me when you could possibly afford a whole room on your own?"

"Yes, Jisung," Minho sighs and sits back on his chair. You bend forward, arms folded against the table as you stare at your best friend in betrayal. "Also, Y/N, don't you love having me around?"

He laughs and rests his head on your shoulder suddenly, causing you to stiffen them in response. Your eyes drift to the left, trying to not make it overtly obvious that Minho's sudden reaction has taken you by surprise. Your eyes land forward on Jisung who looks at you as if he knew this all along, as if he wanted exactly this. The man has a goddamn smirk plastered on his face.

Jisung downs two more shots and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, mumbling, "Slow the fuck down. No one's chasing you."

"Yeah, my goddamn plan," he mumbles before coughing and taking another. Minho sits up straight, finally lifting his head from your shoulder. He stretches his arm to pat Jisung's shoulder in comfort.

"I'll drop a word."

"Now, don't you dare go and say that you want to earn it and all that bullshit," you sigh. "It's the fucking Republic Of Korea. Nepotism is the norm."

"Not planning on saying that," Jisung glares at you. Clearly, Jisung is slightly tipsy, having been the only person to keep drinking. You and Minho opt to just watch over Jisung for the night. Your best friend puckers his lips in Minho's direction and blowing kisses, he says, "I love you, Minho."

"Changbin wouldn't like you saying that to another man though," you scoff and Jisung flips you the middle finger before downing one more and standing up. The thunder rattles the three of you exactly then and you grip the table, face turning pale instantly. Minho's attention darts to you quickly in concern.

"You okay?" You hum in response, unconvincingly though to Minho whose gaze lingers on you in worry for just a while more. That is, till Jisung rips it away by dramatically placing the back of his hand on his forehead and playing the damsel in distress as he gasps so loudly, staring at the big window.

"It's raining heavily," he sighs and you shudder, afraid of another thunderstorm as you grip tightly on the side of the table.

"So?" Minho asks, both eyebrows raised at the man before him, looking at the two of you with doe eyes.

"I'm staying over, thanks," he rushes and runs to your bedroom, quickly shutting the door and latching it and you and Minho stare at each other. As soon as the realisation of what could happen dawns over you, you rush to your closed bedroom, fists banging against the wooden door.

"Yah, Han Jisung," you turn to look at Minho who watches you in amusement. "Open the fucking door."

"No. I don't want to go back home in the rain. You and Minho can share the bed. I am never opening the door. Good night."

"What the fuck? Yah, Sungie, stop acting like a child. Open the door now." You hear no response. "Sungie? Answer me. Open the door please." Minho walks over to you, and tries knocking too, in vain however because Jisung has no plans to open the door.

You look at Minho, the man slightly towering you as he stands by your side and you gasp. You had to share the bed with the same man you just realised you could, perhaps, have developed feelings for?

"Fuck."

Jisung: it finally seems to be working, binnie! luck's on my side this time. Changbin: oh baby. just please don't be disappointed if it doesn't work out this time either. Jisung: i won't be because it's definitely going to work out. eeeee! i'm so excited!

Another thunderstorm ripples through the air.

Your heart beats quicker in anxiety, eyes squeezing shut as you grip tightly on the pillow, a light whimper leaving your lips. You feel the mattress shuffling underneath you and in the next minute, your ears are covered by Minho's hands. You stiffen as he edges closer to you, his chin resting on your shoulder as his palm pressed against your pinna, covering your ear completely to protect you from the loud sounds of the thunder.

"Minho, what—"

His hand on your right ear slightly shifts to the side as he bends forward to whisper into your ear, to amplify the sounds enough as a way to distract you.

"You never ever told me you were scared of thunderstorms."

Lee Minho is way too close to you to think straight. You feel his body pressed against your back, heat radiating from him to you through your oversized hoodie. His breath is harsh against your skin as he leans close to whisper into your ear. And all this in an attempt to forget the thunderstorm.

So far, it's working like magic.

Your voice is almost small when you inform him, "We never happened to be in the same place during one," and Minho swears to God, he could lose it completely. All the self control to not confess and take you there is so ready to be shoved out of the window that all he can do is try and focus on worrying about your fears.

"I'll protect you," he mumbles so softly that you turn around to look at him. His eyes are bright in the soft lights in his room and as he lies by your side, so close that you can hear his heart that beats faster and his breath that is shallow, your lips part and you watch him.

You are fully justified for falling in love with this man.

A man that tells you he'd protect you from your fears, god alone knows how, but the fact that they don't seem like empty words. A man that you know like the back of your hand and the same man that seems to have protected you all throughout your life, even if you have done the same. It was inevitable. Falling for Lee Minho is inevitable.

And that's why you kiss him. Because you're in love with him so badly that all you can zero in is him, him, him.

Your lips press against his, so softly for a split second. As if you are unsure. As if you know you could be ruining years of friendship over something the two of you could consider a mistake.

You kiss him and suddenly it's the only thing that matters to you right now. Him, him, him. Your lips are slow and soft against him. It is almost as if you are reminding yourself that there has been nothing more morbidly right than this. To fall in love with your best friend. Minho's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.

It is just a second of a kiss and with Minho so stiff by your side, you panic, and ramble. "I'm sorry. I should have thought it could be unrequited. I like you and I should have asked—”

Minho crashes his lips on yours, so quickly that it takes your breath away and cuts your sentence in half, but you don't care. He pulls you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your pink ones. You let out a small gasp as you deepen the kiss, running your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you. It is just you and him in this small room. Just you and him in focus. You can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute. That it has always been beating for you.

Minho presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth, tongue chasing after yours. Minho kisses you like he has finally achieved the greatest thing ever and he never wants to let it go. Minho kisses like he loves you and you feel it. You feel every ounce of it.

Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. Playing with the ends of his roots, you suck on his lower lips before he pulls away and finally tells you, "I've always been in love with you, Y/N. Always."

Kissing you again, his thumb digs into the skin by your jaw as he delves deeper, as if he never wants to let you go. The air in the room heats up when your hand moves under his shirt, feeling his muscles under your skin and you moan against his lips. Minho lets go of your lips only to kiss the side of it and then your cheeks and then your jugular before he is littering kisses all over your neck. You moan explicitly, gripping on him and slightly grinding on his thigh. You feel your core heating up, arousal sticking to your panties and all you can think is,

“I want you.”

Minho swears to God that he has always loved confident women but when you shattered right before him and built your confidence right back up — that is the hottest thing he swears he has seen. That, and the fact that you had always been hot before his eyes.

“Really?” Minho lifts himself up and hovers on top of you.

“Really,” you decide to respond before you cup his face and pull his face closer to yours. You don't pull him in for a kiss just yet. Your eyes zero on him, trying to cancel out the loud thunderstorms in the background and just focus on the man before you that you love, that you've been in love unknowingly for a while.

You just hold his face and learn. You try to remember every single detail of his face that you never focussed on before.

You realise over again that his eyes are your favourite thing. They are black as charcoal and yet still shimmer as if stars are trapped and enclosed beneath them. And when he narrows them to look at you with a daze, your heart throbs and you gulp. They make your heart hurt whenever they fix on you.

You know his skin is soft as you touch. As creamy and velvety as they are, you can't stop touching him.

His mouth is a pretty shade of coral, plump and pouty and honestly so kissable it hurts to look at it for more than a few seconds. You wonder how you haven't driven yourself to kiss him yet. All these years.

Everything about his face is soft and delicate, that is till he turns a little to the side and angles it perfectly, his head backward and you can clearly see the sharpness of his jawline; the distinct manly cut that makes your mouth dry and your heart beat faster.

“You are perfect,” you gulp, your eyes back on him and Minho smiles widely. His warm breath caresses your face and his forehead is pressed against yours immediately.

“You know what else is perfect, baby?”

“No,” your voice is airy, even though you already know what he is going to say. You know it and yet the thought causes your heart to skip a bit, and flutter a lot in your chest.

“You and everything you have to offer. You are not average. You are one of the most perfect women I've seen in my whole life, Y/N,” he says. As soon as the words spill from his mouth, your lips are on his, claiming his mouth, the same ones that whispered into your ear that there is nothing to be afraid when he's right there by your side.

He gasps loudly as your hands leave his face and move to his hair to pull him down towards you — you need him so close to you. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to bend a lot forward and gladly welcome the intrusion of your tongue.

His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses and those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs.

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bottom cheeks.

“Minho,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing. You fear getting too addicted to this human – more than you already are – to a point where you need to be attached to him by the hip, to never let go of him.

Minho's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin.

His hand moves from your clothed arse to under your hoodie, hand pressed against your back as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and god, you feel infinite and powerful.

His lips hover on yours. He smiles widely and you think it's cute. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again.

You nod your head to signal yes. You hold your breath and your eyes flutter shut, awaiting him and his warmth.

Minho's kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, so much more, that you want to pull him in and suck the life out of him and yet, at the same time, it is precious and laced with not only the passion of the moment but also the tenderness of a first time together.

It makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own.

Your heart is beating quicker than ever in your chest, against your ribs, and you pull him even closer, so tight your chests have no choice but to heave against each other with every single breath you take. You don’t want to let him go, not now, not tomorrow, not ever.

Minho is something you desperately want to hold onto in your life. He knows your secrets, your everything. He knows what you like and how you like it. He seems to know everything and the thought of letting him go aches your heart and constraints your throat with a sob you wouldn't dare to let out. You want him to be completely yours.

And these thoughts turn you desperate. They force you to make the kiss deeper, to lick his lips and bite them down, to gulp down every sigh and whimper that comes out of him and make them your own. To make him yours.

Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over yours, arching further into him. You groan into his mouth and his grip on your back tightens instantly.

“I want you so much, Minho,” you whimper against him after your lips part from his. You lick your lips and gaze at him with your partially closed eyes. “So fucking much.”

“Then, have me. Take me,” Minho purrs against your exposed skin. In a minute, he pulls the oversized hoodie over you, leaving you in just your undergarments as he discards it to the side. His mouth moves over the skin above your breasts and his hand traces the bra you are wearing. He gazes at it and mumbles before latching his mouth back on your skin, “You are so fucking beautiful. Always have been.”

You gleam in pride and your body arches at the contact of his mouth on your skin. Your hands are on the side of his face as you pull him away.

“Can I?”

“Have me? Yes. Completely,” he smiles. He wonders if you are confident. That's all that he hopes when you look at him so unsure and so doubtingly.

You wet your lips again quickly, your breath coming out in hot puffs of air. Your hands immediately rush to his top, roughly pushing it above. Minho helps you out and pulls it completely away. You are blinded by the passion burning inside of you, your hands eager to explore and touch every expanse of his glowing skin. You want to touch, feel, have a complete experience. You want Minho to remind you of everything you are missing out on.

Your lips attack his neck in a hurry, all rough and passionate on his tender, soft skin, blooming red roses that turn purple against it. You repeat your actions till he’s softly moaning out your name, almost purring them out that you feel yourself becoming slicker. His hands on your back pull you closer and into him so that you won’t stop tainting his flesh and slowly, his soul, in the best ways possible.

Minho whines and sighs and grunts for you. He doesn't hold himself back as his lips leave appreciation for who you are. He closes his eyes as he parts his lips to whimper out your name with every new thing you find that excites him and it drives you absolutely insane.

You know you should not but you can’t stop wondering how he would sound like as you fuck him hard, rock on his cock to milk his orgasm, make him beg not to stop. You desperately want to break him and draw all these nice sounds out of him, but you know it would most probably be the other way round. Minho allows you to take control occasionally but you know he wants the lead. He wants to be the one to break you apart and pull you back together.

He pulls back from you, his hands leaving your back and resting on either of your sides. Minho's dark hair brushes over his crescent lidded eyes and nearly shields the hungry, desperate gaze of them. His hand plays with the strap of your panties as his gaze flickers between affection and lust. He cocks his head to the side before asking, “You do want this, right?”

You nod, hoping it would be enough and that he would resume.

“I need to hear you say it out loud, baby,” he firmly says and you gulp.

“Yes, yes. Minho, fuck, I want this. I need this,” you whine, your eyes glassy, as you grip his forearm to lift yourself up and grate and move against the evident bulge on his jeans.

Minho merely needs that verbal confirmation. He pulls away your panties, resting on your hips and you groan. Still hovering above you and his hands over your pubic mound, his fingers trail lower and you tug at your lower lip in anticipation. Easily, he finds your clit, and begins to rub in slow, languid, lazy motion, up and down, waiting for the moan he so loves to hear from you to spill from your mouth. He grins when he hears those little whimpers and you feel your legs lose mobility from the pleasure he brings you with just a flick of his finger.

Your back slightly arches off the soft mattress upon the bed when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light. Your cheeks taint pink in embarrassment.

“Fuck,” Minho moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck your juices from it. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac ever known and your lips part at this sight. Lee Minho looks irresistible and you want him, completely.

“God,” he groans. Minho slides himself down your body until he’s in level with your pussy. His eyes gazed at it in sheer adoration and your hand slapped against your mouth. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping, baby girl.”

You wail as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name out loud. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you. This has been what you had been craving for so long. The ability of this man to cloud your thoughts and set your body on fire makes you yearn for him even more.

“Minho,” you cry out, whimpering underneath him. “Fingers. I need you. Please, Minho.”

You gasp, your voice airy, when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers dig at his shoulders between your thighs. “Minho, I want you. I just really want you. I need to feel you. Please.”

He drags his finger out of you before you clutch onto him, feeling the need to be overwhelmed. He presses his thumb on your clit and a whimper leaves your mouth.

“Minho.” And he slides his digit in again almost as if on cue. He pumps his finger in and out of you as his thumb harshly rubs circles on your clit. Your hand leaves your mouth and grabs your hair as the other digs further into his shoulder.

His mouth leaves hot air against the skin covering your acetabulum and you shudder. His lips graze from there till your thigh before biting on them, sucking them deliriously and leaving you as a whimpering mess.

“Minho, fuck!” You scream, your fingers grabbing your hair to hold control of your body.

“That's it, baby,” he says against the skin of your thighs. “How I've wanted those beautiful lips to scream out my name from when I've felt them.”

Minho adds another finger and your eyes are screwed shut as he curls them within you and you gasp at the feeling of being widened. You are elated and you feel your arousal leaking down your thighs. He rubs your inside and your clitoris faster and you push your hips towards him, moving with his pace. Minho is also leaving beautiful purple marks in a trail on your thigh and you gape in awe.

You find it all too much. Your emotions are all over the place and your hormones rise up. The movement of his fingers inside you and around your clit, his lips attacking your erogenous spots, kissing, biting and licking short stripes on them. It finally gets to you and you scream his name out in pleasure. Your first orgasm comes crashing down upon you, blinding you. You release all over his fingers and Minho helps you ride out your high as he drags his finger repeatedly but this time, slower than what had been.

Your head lifts up and hits the pillow slightly as it tilts away. Minho moves upwards, hovering over your face and smiles. You smile back. You are so happy and you do not know how to put it into words.

“Minho?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks?”

“For what?” He looks at you quizzically.

“That was my first orgasm in months now that wasn't brought about by my own fingers,” you smile wearily and Minho leans forwards and kisses your forehead.

"Should have come to me," he laughs.

"Didn't know if I'd be ruining our friendship."

"Pfft," he scoffs, before kissing you again, his lips gliding against yours and piecing in as if they were always meant to be against yours. "I've been in love with you forever."

"Took me a while to know my own feelings," you mumbles. “Also,” you continue, hoping he listens to your request. “Can I . . . ride you?”

Minho is stunned. There are so many things about you that stuns him and maybe it's the way you try to take control that make you look so much hotter before his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you plead. “If that is not a bother to you.”

“Why would it? Your wish is my command, but only for this night. Next time, my love, we do this my way,” he teases and winks and your core throbs at his words.

Minho pulls himself away from your body, pulling his shirt over his head and his denim down and away. As he flings his clothes aside and relaxes against the mattress, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum. You sit up beside the space Minho has taken over and watch him and his cock deliriously and lustfully.

You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Minho, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Minho notices.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and worry. He pushes back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “You're doing wonderful, babygirl. You are finally all mine. What a pretty girl and all to myself now."

You nod, biting down on your lower lip, and tugging at it harshly, cheeks heating up at his words, arousal gushing out as you look down before aligning with his cock. You want this. You needed this release.

As your folds, dripping with thick, sticky arousal, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you moaning out his name, gasping and panting for air, “Fuck, Minho.”

You rock your hips into him, trying this as you picture it to be, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick length. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord.

As much as Minho wants to give you complete power over this, it isn't like him and he wishes he could be better. Minho takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Minho,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and you feel sad.

As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Minho, ah!”

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. You are glad he is helping you out because you know you could not have done it on your own after having just ridden out your high.

The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you.

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the second time that night. Minho’s finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge. Minho knows how to make a woman putty in his hands and you are a living witness of this.

“Are you going to come?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.

“Y-Yes,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good, Minho.” You lean forward and the motion causes Minho to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.

Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Minho, fuck. Oh fuck, you feel so good.”

“Then, come.”

Minho moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Babygirl, oh fuck. Come all over my cock.”

Minho’s other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find their place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and his eyes flicker a mischief that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Minho’s cock tightly.

Minho learns that your dirty liking for choking is incredibly hot. Seeing you like this is what he knows would get him to come when you are not around. Your fucked out expression as you gasp for air makes Minho plunge into you harder and you choke harder.

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Minho's waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.

Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him.

“Hey,” you say and smile.

Minho kisses your forehead and then, the peak of your nose, and finally, kisses your lips, softly. It isn't lustful or anything. Just plain passion seeping from him to you. You feel his admiration and an emotion you fear to mistake for love. He pulls away and smiles, “Hey, beautiful.”

He comes closer and licks the side of your neck, where he had wrapped his fingers out. The one fantasy that you are so in love with. He peppers soft kisses around it and mumbles an apology.

“No,” you quickly stop him. “That was everything. I— I really like you." Pausing, the thought crashes your head, post your high and you mumble, "Fuck, I fell in love with my best friend."

You nuzzle into his chest after he pulls back, your arms wrapping around his body as you calm yourself. Minho chuckles into your ear, "Yes, yes. You clearly did. What do we do now?"

"Take responsibility." You mumble as you slowly find yourself feeling sleepy. Your eyes are slowly drooping and your voice lowers in tone, words drifting away almost, “You better take responsibility for my feelings and take care of me.”

“It'd truly be my honour,” Minho mumbles, lifting you slowly to push his one arm beneath your neck. He uses the other hand to push your hair away from your face. Kissing your forehead, lips lingering for a while, he smiles to himself, laughing slightly as he asks you, "Was the schlong good?”

You laugh softly, snuggling into his chest, fist against it as you try to fall asleep, thunderstorms long forgotten. Kissing his chest, you giggle, "Best ever schlong I have ever had, baby. All mine to keep now."

Jisung: can you pick me up? Changbin: this late? Jisung: i just wanted them to confess. not fuck like bunnies. useless fact i learnt today: they are both loud in bed. Changbin: i'm laughing off the bed literally!!! also!!! Jisung: yeah? Changbin: and they were roommates! Jisung: god, they were roommates. 🙄❤️

#stray kids smut #minho smut #lee know smut #skz smut #lee minho smut #minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #minho imagines #minho scenarios #lee know scenarios #kpop smut #stray kids imagines #writings.rue

4K notes · View notes