#fellow travelers au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chuuyrr · 2 years ago

Note

I saw the baby fushiguro ask box open and I got so excited! I’ve read every fic you put out (crossover or jkk world) and I can’t stop coming back to reread them!

Feel free to ignore this request because it probably gets tiring writing for that more than Gojo! Reader, but what if, and hear me out, baby fushiguro reader tried to go to the Bungo Stray Dogs universe, but accidentally ended up in the Beast! AU. If you haven’t read the Beast! AU, that’s perfectly fine! Like I said feel free to ignore this

Alternative idea though, baby fushiguro meets the hunting dogs (in honor of season four coming out in a few months)

As a fellow student, make sure you’re taking care of yourself and prioritizing your health, both physical and mental. If you don’t, you’ll make baby fushiguro reader upset (and we don’t want that). Have a great day!

scarlet witch! baby fushiguro! reader goes to BEAST! AU of bsd

jujutsu kaisen x reader x bungo stray dogs

masterlist of the series

╰➤ CW(s): major spoilers for bungo stray dog's beast manga, angst & the most detailed shit i've written in a long while that i have also may or may not have cried to while writing : )

╰➤ PAIRING(s): platonic! bungo stray dogs x child! reader

╰➤ SONG SUGGESTION(s): good parts by le serrafim

before you read: hi, in case you're new, you're megumi's younger half-sibling, and while you don't have cursed energy, you do have scarlet witch's powers and abilities! aside from that, as a special scarlet witch variant, you also have the ability to travel across the multiverse. how chaotic! furthermore, like your half-brother megumi, you are being cared for by gojo satoru, who also serves as your adoptive father. for more info, please see the masterlist.

being a multiversal being of sorts, you were aware of the vast range of universes that existed. however, you've never been to this particular alternative universe of bsd before, not until now. you made use of your dimensional travel ability and ripped through the seams of reality to see dazai and the others.

as usual when you entered the red portal you conjured, you were greeted with the ever familiar streets and atmosphere of yokohama. you immediately ran towards the reddish-brown brick building, climbing the stairs until you reached the fourth floor, and twisted and pushed the door open.

however, as soon as you stepped inside, you were immediately greeted by naomi who was near the door, carrying a stack of paper. you smiled and immediately wrapped your tiny arms around her to greet her, "naomi-nee!"

naomi's eyes widened, gasping softly in surprise at you and nearly dropping her papers, "h-hi?"

just as naomi was about to question you, you released her and ran deeper inside, only to find dazai missing. in fact, kyouka and atsushi were also gone, but what you discovered made you pale. your eyes widened as you stared at the familiar tall man with dark brown eyes, short reddish-brown hair, and a beige brown coat.

"odasaku-san?" you muttered, blinking.

before you could respond further, you felt a hand pat your head, prompting you to look up and notice kunikida staring down at you.

"what are you doing here, kid? how did you get in here?" he asked you with furrowed brows.

"uncle kunikida!" you exclaimed, gently removing his hand from your head and approaching him to hug his legs.

"me? an u-uncle?!" kunikida stammered in embarrassment with a bright red blush spreading across his face as he gazed down at you with wide eyes.

"since when did you become an uncle, kunikida-kun?" that was ranpo's voice.

turning around, you, kunikida, and odasaku saw ranpo, junichiro, yosano, kenji, and, to your surprise, akutagawa himself entering the office.

"i-i don't know this kid!" kunikida exclaimed, motioning at you, causing you to make a puzzled noise and tilt your head to the side, "she just appeared and hugged me!"

"you... don't remember me?" you asked, frowning as you looked up at kunikida.

"certainly not, kid," kunikida sighed, adjusting his glasses as he turned to the others.

you then cast a glance at akutagawa, and you can't help but be perplexed. what exactly is he doing here with odasaku? he appeared to be different. instead of the usual terrifying stoic expression on his face. he just simply had a blank expression on his face and was dressed in a gray overcoat, a black button-up, gray suspenders and tie, and dark calf-length pinstripe trousers that reminded you of both dazai and atsushi. for some reason, akutagawa appeared less agitated, or tamer, than usual

"aku-nii?" you muttered, blinking as you turned back to odasaku, "what's going on? why are aku-nii and odasaku-san here?"

"how do you know our names?" akutagawa questioned you, stiffening up at your words.

"akutagawa's right, who are you?" naomi nodded in agreement as she asked you next.

"i'm fushiguro [name]. i've come here before.. you guys know me.. should know me.." you explained, releasing kunikida's pant leg as you fiddled with your fingers, "but you guys don't.."

"are you saying we've met before?" yosano asked softly, tilting her head at you and placing a hand on her hip.

"yes! dazai-nii brought me here with sushi-nii and uncle kunikida!" you nodded, eliciting gasps and surprised looks from everyone in the room.

"who's 'dazai?'"

at that moment, a pierce of gray fabric had made its way towards you, but your reflexes kicked in and your eyes glowed red as red psionics held it in mid-air, much to everyone's surprise, preventing it from touching you.

"you're an ability user," junichiro gasped.

"where's dazai-nii?" you asked this time, your brow furrowed as you let go of the gray fabric that had shot out of akutagawa's coat, "why is he not here? why don't you like him?"

"I asked first, kid. who is he?" akutagawa grew irritated as he sent more tendrils of fabric from his coat towards you, but this time, odasaku had blocked each of them, standing protectively in front of you.

"akutagawa, that's not how you interrogate a child," oda exclaimed, using the metal ruler he stole from kunikida's desk to block akutagawa's attacks on you.

"dazai-nii is my dazai-nii. he was the one who protected me together with uncle kunikida when i saved sushi-nii from the bad guys!" you answered, getting annoyed as well as the red glow in your eyes dissipated.

"where's dazai-nii, odasaku-san? and why are you here? you're.. you're supposed to be..." you frowned as you looked up at oda, taking a hold of his pant leg and tugging at it.

"supposed to be what?" oda held a concerned yet confused look towards you.

you couldn't even mention it to him. instead, your lips trembled as tears streamed down your cheeks. he was supposed to be no longer alive. you were going to say that, but you couldn't. akutagawa is also not supposed to be at the agency. it's as if he took the place of atsushi. in fact, if you think about it, odasaku replaced dazai and kyouka was out of the picture.

"o-oh no! h-hey, kid! d-don't cry!" junichiro waved his hands in the air, "hey!"

"kid?" odasaku asked, watching you clench the fabric of his pant leg as you teared up.

everything was getting to you. what was going on here? why didn't they recognize you? why were they acting this way when you mentioned dazai? you didn't understand it at all.

"i want dazai-nii! where is dazai-nii?" you cried out, releasing a repulsive red energy created by your psionics. it shook the entire building and nearly sent everyone flying away from you, similar to a shockwave and earthquake.

as everyone shielded themselves and clung to strudy office furniture. ranpo took advantage of the situation by placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose with his free hand before staring at you, and that's when he realized what was going on.

"the one you're looking for is in the port mafia headquarters," ranpo exclaimed, dissipating the immense psionic energy in the air and reducing your cries to sniffling.

"he's there?" you asked, your tantrums subsiding as you cast a hopeful glance at him.

"yes, he's there," ranpo nodded firmly at you.

without another word, you activated your red psionics once more, but this time you used it to increase your speed as you approached the door. you fled the armed detective agency's office, with akutagawa chasing after you, but he was stopped by odasaku and ranpo blocking the door.

"what are you doing? the kid's escaped and they're heading straight to port mafia!" thrashed akutagawa in odasaku's hold.

"that kid wasn't lying when she said she knew all of us. she's someone from another universe who has seen and met our other selves from another universe," ranpo explained.

"alternate universe?" everyone chorused.

"that kid was either that "dazai's" younger sibling or someone close to dazai in the universe she's familiar with, which is why she was looking for him here," ranpo continued, folding his arms, "and if we didn't let her go, she would have most definitely destroyed the building and the entire area. her ability, whatever it is, it's dangerous."

as the detectives were left to mull over you and the existence of the multiverse, you made your way to the port mafia headquarters; a black building that towered over yokohama's ritziest neighborhood, which you were already familiar with. you were quickly stopped by the mafia's subordinates, men in black.

"oi, get out of here! this isn't a place for a child!" one of them yelled, shoving you away.

you ignored them and continued running inside. you yelped in terror, occasionally using your red psionics to boost your speed, but it was draining you as you ran away from the men in black who were chasing you. you closed your eyes and concentrated on feeling and sensing dazai. ranpo said he should be here, and you believe him. he must be here. he has to.

you opened your eyes again as you ran across a fancy high-pile rug fit for a throne room, eventually reaching the corridor after struggling to escape the men in black.

you had gotten a few bruises and scrapes along the way as they were able to catch up to you and snatch you in some cases before fleeing because you were tired. you came to a halt in front of a sturdy double door and realized you were getting close.

you turned around to see the men in black approaching you and yelling at you to stop. "dazai-nii! please open up! it's me, [name]!" you yelled as you returned to the door.

"this is not a place for kids! the boss will be furious when he finds you here, brat!" you cried out in agony as one of them finally caught up to you and grabbed your arm, lifting you in the air and gripping you tightly.

"no! no! dazai-nii, help me!" you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks as you squirmed.

"shut up, brat!" they scowled as another yanked on your hair roughly, "quit your yapping!"

finally, the solid doors that had been closed earlier burst open, revealing a large office with every one of a kind high-end oddity from candlesticks to the desk in the center of the office. the floor and ceiling were black, and it didn't take long for the presence of death to fill the atmosphere when a furious voice boomed,

"LET HER GO AT ONCE, NOW."

when the men in black let you go, you fell to the ground with a thud, whimpering in pain as you fell on your side. you looked up and froze as you saw the men groaning in pain as they were surrounded by a red glow caused by a familiar ginger-haired young man. before you could react, you were suddenly whisked into someone's arms, but it wasn't rough; in fact, you were handled with care.

as you realized who was carrying you, your eyes widened. you recognized his unkempt brown hair and features, but they were bandaged, especially one of his eye. it was dazai, but something was wrong. there was something sinister was emanating from him. his tone was so venomous that it made you tremble.

"i told you to let her go, not drop her. pathetic. you all know what happens next, right? to subordinates who disobey my orders?" he scoffed, gritting his teeth in rage as he drew you closer to his embrace and turned to the other, "get rid of them, chuuya," he said.

"got it, boss," the ginger-haired mafioso nodded before using gravity manipulation on the men in black chasing you to get them all out of your sight as the doors closed, leaving you alone with dazai.

the icy cold tension in the air immediately dissipated. you looked up at the brunet, whose glare had softened as he faced you.

"[name]-chan.." dazai murmured, reaching out his hand to cup your cheek, "it's really you.. you're here.. finally here.."

"dazai-nii..." you found yourself tearing up as you returned his gaze. with that, you burst into tears, causing him to panic a little.

"[name]-chan! it's okay. it's okay, little bella," he said as you buried your face in his neck and gripped the fabric of his clothes. he then rubbed shapes on your back to calm you down, saying, "shhh, they won't hurt you anymore. you're safe now, i promise."

"y-you remember me.. dazai-nii.." you cried out.

"of course i do," dazai's lips curved into a smile as he held you, cradling you, "how could i not?"

"uncle ranpo, uncle kunikida, and the others don't remember me," you explained to dazai, sniffling, "a-also.. odasaku-san and aku-nii were there too, but they don't remember me either.."

when you looked at him, there was an indecipherable expression on his face as his smile faded into a frown. dazai looked down at you, almost lost for words, but before you could open your mouth to speak again, he beat you to it.

"[name]-chan, would you like to go eat lunch with me outside?" your eyes widened slightly as you looked at him puzzledly.

however, you were hungry and exhausted, so something to eat sounded appealing. you nodded, which brought back dazai's smile. just as dazai was about to put you down, he noticed some bruises and scrapes on you, which caused him to come to a halt.

"you're hurt." dazai's eyes, or rather, eye, widened, "fuck, are you alright? are you hurt anywhere else, [name]-chan?"

"no!" you immediately shook your head and waved your hands in the air, "i-i'm okay, really!"

"those bastards deserved what's coming for them. they shouldn't have hurt you," dazai mumbled angrily, clicking his tongue in annoyance, but not towards you.

"huh? what are you talking about, dazai-nii?" you quipped, tilting your head in confusion.

"nothing!" dazai exclaimed with a smile, the dark glaze across his eyes gone, "let me just patch you up and then we'll go out for lunch, okay [name]-chan?" you nodded your head.

dazai sat you on the top of his desk while he called someone from his black phone to come over. it wasn't long before a man dressed similarly to auntie shoko from your house arrived. you quickly recognized him as a doctor and allowed him to treat your bruises and scrapes under the supervision of dazai, and speaking of dazai, you couldn't help but notice how he was staring intently, as if he was waiting for the said man to make one wrong move and he'll beat him up or something.

fortunately, the doctor treated you well and left after bandaging you and acknowledging dazai. with that, you felt much better and more at ease knowing that you had been treated.

"are you ready to go?" dazai inquired, ruffling your hair and softly chuckling. "i guess we kind of match now, too, since your arms have bandages."

"mhm!" you nodded your head as you hummed.

dazai assisted you in getting down from his desk and extended his hand to you, which you gladly accepted. you could see a genuine smile on dazai's face as he peered down at you. he squeezed your much smaller hand with his larger hand almost childishly and innocently.

as you walked down the corridor where you had been chased earlier, you realized that the office you had been to was supposed to be mori's and remembered how you used to play and draw with elise there. mori and elise were nowhere to be found and it made you curious.

as you recognized some of the men in black, you followed dazai and immediately hid behind him, hiding yourself in his long coat. this made dazai reach out for you, saying softly, "hey, hey! it's okay," seeing how scared you were, "they're not going to hurt you. i promise."

dazai thought it was a cute yet nostalgic gesture. with him remembering himself in the canon world, the one you were familiar with, he was reminded of how you gripped him and hid behind his coat when he first met you.

you reluctantly took his hand in yours and squeezed it, but you stayed close to him. you didn't like being chased and yanked away again. dazai's brow furrowed, and his gaze darted towards his subordinates for a moment, glaring, already making a mental note to make sure he gives them a warning so they would never think of hurting you again. you were scared and even tried to deny that you were hurt earlier, and dazai found it unacceptable.

"i got you, [name]-chan. i'm right here with you," dazai reassured you softly as he led you out of the headquarters, squeezing your hand back as a form of comfort.

the port mafia was taken aback as they witnessed their normally intimidating boss soften around you. just who the hell were you, and what did you do to their leader? they had never seen him switch up so quickly before.

outside, you and dazai got into a black car, and to your surprise, dazai had asked the driver to take you to your favorite restaurant in the city—the one he had taken you to before when he heard your stomach growl, much to kunikida protests of him being an irresponsible adult for using you as an excuse to slack off.

when you arrived at the restaurant, you both took a seat at a table, and as soon as the menus were handed to you, dazai asked, "is omurice your order, [name]-chan?"

your eyes widened slightly, but you nodded your head and smiled, "yeah! that one!"

"the little lady will have omurice, and I'll have a plain black coffee," dazai instructed the waiter.

"you must be hungry after getting here," dazai said again after the waiter took your orders.

"yeah.. a little," you nodded your head, a pout on your lips as you rested your chin on your arms, which were flat on the table. "and i had to run too from those scary men in black.."

"i'm so sorry about that, [name]-chan. i'll make sure it doesn't happen again," dazai smiled as he outstretched his hand and gently grasped your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

after that, you became quiet. you had so many questions in your head. something was strange about dazai right now. he was unique. he had this horrible vibe about him. you weren't going to lie, you were a little scared, especially after hearing his murmur and seeing the dark glaze over his eyes earlier.

"is there something wrong, [name]-chan?" dazai inquired, watching your brow furrow as you stared at him, almost deep in thought.

"well, um... it's just that.." you scrunched your brow, not knowing where to begin.

"you're probably wondering why i recognize you and the others don't—that's one of your concerns right now, correct, [name]-chan?" dazai stared at you for a second, blinking before taking a deep breath and sighing.

"this world is just one of many others," dazai explained further, "and of all people, you should know, right? you're fushiguro [name]-chan. you're someone capable of traveling across the multiverse with your reality warping powers, which i can't even nullify."

your eyes widened as you realized what had happened. it was no surprise that the armed detective agency hadn't recognized you earlier, or that akutagawa and odasaku were present but not dazai or atsushi and kyouka. this world was an alternate universe, just like the others you'd visited, with a much older version of yourself as an example. bacause the multiverse is so vast, dazai's world would have alternate universes that similarly to yours.

"but.. if you're not in the armed detective agency with uncle kunikida.. and odasaku-san and aku-nii are there.." you muttered, putting two and two together, "that means they don't know you the same way they don't know me because you're.. you're.."

you closed your mouth. you got your answer the moment you discovered elise and mori missing, as well as the office looking a little different earlier, with dazai wearing the same exact clothes as mori.

"ever the clever little bella. you're not wrong, [name]-chan," dazai exclaimed, intertwining his hands on the table and smiling at you.

"but, why?" you furrowed your brows.

"because it's the only way, [name]-chan," dazai replied as the waiter arrived to bring you your omurice and his black coffee.

"i don't understand.." you exclaimed, frowning at dazai, "what do you mean?"

at first, dazai looked around. fortunately, there were no customers and the waiter had already left, which you found odd, but with that, he returned his attention to you.

"as i previously stated, this world is just one of many, but this world, this is the only one where odasaku lives, [name]-chan."

your eyes widened at the revelation and dropped the spoon you had just picked up.

"you know him. you've seen odasaku's ghost. you even had him and my other self reunite, even if it was only for a brief moment with your power," dazai continued, "and i saw it through my other self's memories."

so he already knows about you in this alternate universe, long before you arrived here. alright, you were getting a little scared now.

"i succeeded the previous boss to gain the advantage, to dedicate my life to protect what could have been," dazai stated calmly as he sipped his coffee, "honestly, i was surprised that you'd come here. i never would have thought, but either way, i'm grateful. this is also one of my universes that doesn't have you."

as dazai grasped your hand, you found yourself crying. you quickly had got a vision of what was going to happen to him because your emotions were amplifying your chaos magic. dazai planned to jump off a building. as you regained your composure, you drew your hand away, panting softly for air to calm yourself down.

"[name]-chan?" dazai stared at you with a baffled look, prompting him to reach out his hand to you to wipe your tears away.

you shook your head and continued to eat the omurice dazai had given you after wiping your tears. dazai frowned but didn't say anything. he just knew you saw something, and he hopes it wasn't about the book with his plan on set, because him knowing three or more people knew would destabilize this world. dazai let you eat your food and paid the bill when you were done. you and dazai got on the black car again, and the ride was quiet, even awkward.

dazai felt guilty seeing your eyes glassy with tears and slightly puffy from crying.

"[name]-chan, would you like to go to the park?"

dazai knows his canon self and his other variants, so it's no surprise that he knew you, and from his canon self's memories, he knows how much you liked to play outside and run, in addition to liking omurice and [favorite food]. dazai has the advantage because he has the book. he can make things work, at least in the best way he knows how. for the time being, what you saw with your witch abilities was the furthest thing from his mind. dazai wished to see you smile and be happy.

when he asked you the question, your eyes seem to light up. as you fiddled with your fingers, you slowly nodded your head. dazai smiled at this and asked the driver to take you to the nearest park in the city.

it was the same one you recognized when you and dazai were dropped and left the car. the same breeze, trees, and ambiance. the only difference was that you weren't with your usual dazai.

"so, what would you like to do first? wanna play zoomies? swing?" dazai questioned, crouching down at your height and ruffling your hair.

"zoomies," just as dazai had expected.

when you ran across the park with dazai—this dazai—it didn't take long for you to start smiling. he'd like to think that being with children was simple. it wouldn't take long for one to smile and laugh as if they hadn't cried or something if you knew how to play the right cards with them. you had so much fun running around and getting to know dazai that you openly suggested what to do next.

"dazai-nii! let's play on the swing next!" you exclaimed, running towards him and excitedly wrapping your tiny arms around his legs.

"alright, alright, little belladonna," dazai chuckled softly at his, giving you a gentle pat on the head, "i'll push you on the swing, okay?"

you spent the entire day with dazai, doing everything from zoomies to swings to slides. dazai's favorite part of the day was you playing with the slides because every time you slid down, he would catch you and pick you up in his arms, just loving the adorable smile and giggle you'd have afterwards. to see you so happy was just nostalgic and music to his ears.

you became tired at the end of the day, and dazai couldn't help but melt when you tugged on his pant leg and made grabby hands for him to pick you up. "up-up.." you said, exhausted.

"come here, [name]-chan," dazai grabbed you and cradled you in his arms, his heart melting as you wrapped your tiny arms around his neck and snuggled up against him. "is little bella tired from playing all day?" he cooed at you.

"mhm..." you nodded tiredly, pressing your face against his neck as you clung to him.

"let's go back, okay?" dazai patted the back of your head as he gently cradled you, "i got you, [name]-chan, feel free to sleep."

as dazai was carrying you to the car, you clenched the fabric of his collar, causing him to hum at you, "hmm? yes, [name]-chan?"

"please don't leave," you muttered quietly, now clutching his fabric even more tightly, almost desperately, as dazai could tell.

"i'm not leaving you, [name]-chan; we're going back to the headquarters together," dazai explained, chuckling at your clinginess.

"no.." you whined softly, "don't go ever."

dazai came to a halt, blinking in confusion. what did you mean when you said he was leaving? he was deep in thought when you spoke up again, saying exactly what he was thinking.

"i don't want you to die, dazai-nii."

dazai had heard you say it before, but it was to his other self, back in the canon world when he got hurt and you went out of your way, risking your life, to get to him at all costs as soon as kunikida mentioned it, even if it meant coming across port mafia.

nonetheless, it caused dazai to freeze. even if you weren't his little sister, niece, or family in this alternate universe, you still thought of him as your "dazai-nii" and cared about him.

you were too kind for your own good.

it made him even more guilty.

"i can't promise you that, [name]-chan," dazai muttered sadly, clutching you tightly in his arms, tears streaming down his cheeks, "which is why i want you to stay here. i'll take care of you like my other self did. you won't have to worry about anything because no one will ever hurt you, and no one from your world will either."

"i can't be with you forever. i have a home to go back to," you said, looking him in the eyes, "but the only way i can promise to be with you is for you to promise me that you won't go. i'll come back to you as many times as i can now that i found you!"

"[name]-chan.." dazai's gaze softened.

"i promise i'll save you, so you won't have to jump off and leave! i'll save this world if i have to even!" you exclaimed determinedly, your eyes glowing red, "i don't know exactly why or how you're doing it, but you're still my dazai-nii, and i know how much odasaku-san means to you."

"but, [name]-chan, i can only do so much," dazai exclaimed. he sounded as if he was about to cry. "odasaku and i are never meant to be together on the same side, but if anything, he deserves to be on the good, so he can become a writer, and me? i have to be on the bad, and the worst as possible.."

"don't you wanna see his works? see him achieve his dreams?" you asked.

"i do, [name]-chan," dazai nodded.

"then, promise me, dazai-nii. you won't ever be alone again," you flashed him a close-eyed smile as you cupped his face in your tiny hands, "i'll come back to you and help you the best i can with my wiggly-woos magic. after all, i did promise odasaku to look after my dazai-nii, so i'll save you. you're still my dazai-nii, even here!"

fresh, hot tears welled up in dazai's eyes and streamed down his face, unable to be held back. he hasn't had anyone in a long time. this world was very different from the canon world, where he had the armed detective agency and people like atsushi. even with chuuya, atsushi, and kyouka by his side, he was alone. this dazai had become so numb from witnessing odasaku's fate from across the vast universes that he had forgotten what love was like and how warm it felt.

had his prayers been heard by the universe? could it even be the book? is that why it brought you here to him by connecting the physical and outside worlds? was it not by chance at all?

but, in any case, he loved the feeling of being loved—of having a family of sorts, whether you were his little sister, niece, or daughter.

dazai remembered seeing one of his other selves as your biological father, another as your uncle, and you as his younger sister. he remembered being so envious of seeing his other selves happy despite the fact that they didn't have odasaku because of you, and dazai loved you in all those universes.

"thank you, [name]-chan," dazai whispered in your ear, hugging you tight as you heard him sniffle, "please save me.. save me too."

[ author's notes ! just to clarify one thing, no, you don't know about the book, you just know that BEAST! dazai knows you from the CANON! dazai's memories, and the fact certain universes existed wherein it had you.

the reason for this has something to do with the knowledge of the book. if three or more people would know, the world would be destabilized. this is also the reason why your witch abilities made you see the end, and not the whole picture.

the reason BEAST! dazai wants you to stay because he has no one. he might be the port mafia boss with chuuya as his right hand man, but he's still alone and also because his universe is one of the few where you weren't in it :( ]

415 notes · View notes

raplinesmoon · 2 years ago

Text

Turn Back Time (KSJ x F!Reader)

pairing: baseball player!Seokjin x doctor!reader (based on the movie 13 Going On 30) genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst, smut, time travel au, 18+ summary: After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?

warnings: bodyswap au (kind of), alternating pov, teenage insecurities, bullying, Seokjin is confused, mention of sports injury, thirst, mentions of hangover, sassy thirteen year olds, mentioned infidelity (not between main characters), cheating (like in sports), swearing, angsty confessions, smut warnings: nudity, Seokjin pops a semi at the wrong time, soft!dom Jin, making out, heavy petting, dry humping, nipple play, unprotected s*x (wrap it before you tap it)

word count: 13.3k a/n: a very happy early 30th bday to our WWH! This is my submission for the Catch of The Century collab hosted by myself, @joheunsaram, and @kithtaehyung! I was super excited writing the role reversal with Seokjin, and 13 Going On 30 is only one of my favorite movies ever (seriously, it never misses on every single rewatch). I also just miss Jin so much T_T I hope you all enjoy 💜 also ty to Mars for beta-reading this as well!

listen to the playlist here!

The envelope crinkles as it’s handed to Seokjin, and his heart drops before he can even pause his iPod and yank his earbuds out, the Black Eyed Peas providing the soundtrack to his humiliation.

Sighing, he looks at his face twisted mid-expression, half-smile and half-grimace, the metal of his braces glinting against the camera flash, and wonders why the photographer had even bothered counting down if he wasn’t going to wait for him to smile for the photo anyway. Not to mention the packet had been inappropriately labeled “Suckjin”. His eomma would be so disappointed. Looking around, he pushes his glasses up onto his nose before shoving the damn thing into his backpack, where it hopefully wouldn’t see the light of day for a few more hours.

“Kim!”

Seokjin bites back a groan at the voice bellowing in the hallway, turning to see Jackson Wang and his posse of baseball boys strolling up to him. He and Jackson weren’t friends, at least not in the traditional sense of the word, but it wasn’t like they hated each other either. They had a mutual agreement - Seokjin would offer to do Jackson’s algebra homework for the semester, and Jackson promised him a try-out spot for the school’s baseball team.

To Seokjin, it was worth it. The baseball team was at the height of status in their janky middle school - everyone knew the players on the team were the coolest, sporting the finest threads walking through the hallways, and tipping their caps to make the girls scream. But it was more than that - for as long as he could remember, Seokjin had always been the lame kid. The one that faded into the background, hiding his acne-laden face under his mop of dark hair, constantly fiddling with his glasses. He hated that.

For once, he wanted to be the special one. The one who hit the winning home run at the game, the one who made all his fellow students and teachers scream with joy, who brought the school to victory. Then no one would ever forget him again. And now, with a try-out spot on the horizon, he finally got his chance.

“Did you hear about that new chick that moved here?” Jackson’s laugh interrupts Seokjin’s stream of intrusive thoughts, and he shoves his iPod into his book. “She’s supposed to be hot stuff.”

“Dude, you should totally hit her up,” DK, one of Jackson’s cronies, eggs him on with a guffaw. Jackson waves him away with an annoyed look, telling them he needs to talk to Seokjin for a second.

His tall, muscular figure looms over Seokjin’s scrawny one, the hard surface of the locker meeting his back.

“Sooo, I know try-outs were supposed to be tonight,” Jackson drawls, looking Seokjin over. “Big day, right?”

He’s unable to respond with anything but a gulp, knowing something was up. It always was with Jackson.

“Well, stupid Mr. Kang decided that we’d have a take-home assignment, and it’s due at the end of the week. I hate to cancel tryouts, I know how much you were looking forward to them, but we’ve gotta bust our asses for this, you know how it is.”

“I-, I could do the assignment for you,” Seokjin blurts out, finally summoning the bravery to speak. This was his once chance. He couldn’t screw it up now.

“Excellent,” Jackson’s eyes glint with mischief, his head turning to regard Seokjin with interest. He claps him on the back, the force of his palm causing Seokjin to sputter, before walking away with a wink.

“See ya later, Kim!”

The bell rings, and Seokjin immediately makes a beeline for the bathroom, changing out of the argyle patterned vest that his mother had put him in for picture day, and into his well-loved, too-large pair of Nike gym shorts that he’d found for $3 at Goodwill. Looking in the dusty mirror, he checks himself out, making sure he looked the exact part of a baseball player. His unruly hair sticks up everywhere. Sighing in frustration, Seokjin lets the water under the sink run, wetting his hands and combing it back until it lays off his face.

Great, now he looked like he hadn’t taken a shower in a week.

“Baseball try-outs?” a voice next to him squeaks, and he turns to see another kid right next to him, shorter by an inch or two, his heart-shaped smile looking up at him.

“You too?” he asks the kid, who erupts into giggles, his laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Nahhhh, it’s the dance team for me, I’m Hobi by the way,” he reaches out his hand for Seokjin to shake. Seokjin takes the hand with hesitation. Hobi seemed nice, if not a little weird. He reminded Seokjin of himself.

“Dance team? Isn’t that kind of lame though?”

“What do you mean?” Hobi asks him with curious eyes. “It’s not any more lame than following around Jackson Wang and his posse of meatheads. It’s more original.”

Hobi straightens up when he sees the clock, the time hitting both of them.

“Oop! I gotta go, I’ll see you later dude! Good luck with try-outs!” he waves Seokjin goodbye, rushing out the door.

Hobi’s words about being original weigh heavily on Seokjin, and he wonders if doing all this would be worth it in the end. After a few minutes of contemplation, Seokjin decides it is. He doesn’t want to be original, he thinks, he just wants to be cool.

“Seokjinnie! Show Eomma the pictures,” his mom pinches his cheeks, one hand on the steering wheel. Seokjin scowls, wishing she’d hurry up. They were going to be late for tryouts.

“Eomma, can you please just give it a break?” he grumbles, but she reaches into his bag anyway, peeking at the envelope with the preview.

“Oh, you look sooo handsome my boy!” she coos, beaming at the photo of him with his braces showing. Was she for real?

“Eomma, stop calling me that! I hate my life,” he whines, slumping into his seat. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his most treasured baseball card, Albert Pujols staring him back in the face. Why couldn’t he be more like his hero? Not the awkward, bumbling thirteen-year-old Seokjin that he was, but an all-star.

“I wish I was thirty,” he sighs, and he watches his Eomma purse her lips.

“Seokjinnie,” she says as she pulls into the parking lot of the baseball field. “Eomma loves you very much, you know that, right? Whether you’re thirteen or thirty.”

She presses a wet kiss to his cheek, her lipstick leaving a faint pink smudge on him.

“Eomma ewwww!” he groans but hugs her anyway with a smile. He knew he’d come home to a warm bowl full of kimchi jjigae tonight.

“Good luck!!” her voice fades off into the distance as Seokjin descends into the dugout where the locker rooms were, ready to give this his best shot.

. . .

The sun trickles through the small windows of the dugout, the grey specks of dust flitting through the air. It’s empty. Seokjin walks through, realizing there’s no one there. Did he come at the wrong time?

Pacing around the room, he looks for something, anything that would indicate the team had been here, a spare bat, or maybe a jersey somewhere. But his heart sinks when he realizes there was nothing. He’d been such a fool.

“Ohhhh Kimmmm,” a voice says from the shadows, and Seokjin feels his blood run cold. Turning around, he sees Jackson’s figure looming at the door, a devious smirk lighting up his face.

“Jackson, what’s going on, where’s everybody—” Seokjin begins, only to be cut off by Jackson howling in laughter.

“Poor guy,” he mutters, stalking towards Seokjin with a menacing gleam in his eyes. “Did you really think those tryouts were real? That we’d let a lame-o like you on the team? You’re more stupid than I thought.”

Seokjin feels like he’s being eaten alive on the inside, shame and humiliation coming over him in waves, his head slumping forward to stare at the ground while Jackson’s words ring loud and clear in the back of his mind.

“I don’t get it, I did the report for you, you said I–, I’d have a chance this year,” he stutters, Jackson backing him up against the lockers.

Jackson picks up a dusty baseball mitt off the ground, shoving it into Seokjin’s hands before pushing him into the locker, the door slamming shut and caging him in darkness.

“You never stood a chance, Kim. You’re just not cool enough.”

. . .

Seokjin doesn’t know how long he bangs against the door of the locker, knuckles raw and bleeding from being cut by the metal. His voice has gone hoarse from screaming for help, knowing that he’s out of luck for a few hours.

He hated everyone - Jackson, the team, all his classmates at school who made him feel like he was worth nothing. He couldn’t wait to grow up, to get out of here, and to finally be somebody he was proud of.

Bile rises up in his throat as he looks at the dilapidated baseball mitt in his hands. He wants to fling it off into oblivion, its presence only reminding him of how silly he’d been to believe that things would be different.

Still, it was all he had, and so he clutched it to his chest, blowing off the dust, rocking back and forth in order to comfort himself as the sun began to set outside.

“I just wanna be thirty,” he whispers into the darkness before his eyes shut and he finally falls asleep.

Seokjin snorts in the middle of his slumber, shifting around to make himself more comfortable, when all of a sudden, he feels himself land on a hard surface with a thud. Cursing, he rubs his shoulder, standing up but tripping on the edge of something soft.

His eyes open sleepily, but it’s still dark. Grumbling, he palms at his face, eventually finding the edge of something covering his eyes. A blindfold? How had that gotten there? Lifting it off, light floods his vision, and his heart stops.

The room around him was very unfamiliar - he catches sight of the rug he’d tripped on moments ago, his eyes traveling up to the sleek bed made out of dark wood with its rumpled sheets. This wasn’t his room. Where were all the baseball posters? And his GameCube in the corner? And his desk with his iMac?

There was only one answer for this - he’d been kidnapped. Panicking, Seokjin fumbles with the doorknob, stumbling into the hallway of the apartment, his eyes widening and heart racing at the even more unfamiliar surroundings.

“Eomma?” he calls out, padding down the hallway and taking in the sparse decorations. “Appa?”

He pauses when he sees a poster on the wall, a scantily clad woman in what can only be described as a provocative pose, and his cheeks flush with heat. He turns his eyes away quickly, feeling like he’s violating someone’s privacy.

The living room is even more strange, full of black furniture and far neater than Seokjin’s room had ever been. His eyes widen at the large flat-screen TV that sits in the corner, and he lets out a soft *wow* at the thought of being able to watch baseball games on there.

He turns to look around more, only to come face-to-face with a mirror. But the person staring back at him isn’t Seokjin. This person was not a thirteen-year-old with acne, a mouth full of braces, and dorky wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like one of those models on magazine covers, with hair pushed back from his face, skin clearer than the water at the beach, and a jawline that could cut glass.

He screams at the unfamiliar face, thinking there’s an intruder in the house with him. He staggers backward, tripping on the raised entrance to the living room, and falling flat on his back. Pain explodes across the back of his head, and he wants to cry.

From elsewhere in the apartment, he hears a door click, and he peers over at the mirror again. He freezes when he realizes there is no other intruder. The figure in the mirror moves the same way he does, copying his exact movement, and Seokjin brings a hand to his face, seeing it rest on the jawline of the attractive reflection.

That was him. He was the man. Was this some kind of dream? Or an alternate reality? He tests the waters, feeling around his face, tugging at the skin to see if it was some sort of costume. His hands fly to his chest, realizing that he’s shirtless, and he’s amazed by the muscles he finds underneath his palms.

“What is happening?” he hyperventilates, shocked at the deep voice that comes out, so unlike his own. “What is going on?”

His anxiety increases as he begins to pace around the apartment, coaxing himself to breathe and relax and take a seat. He’d find a way out of this.

Plopping onto the leather sofa, something on the coffee table catches his eye. It’s a letter, and he pales when he sees the name on the envelope.

It’s his. Kim Seokjin. But that’s not his address. Frantically, he sifts through the mail, growing even paler when he sees all the letters are addressed to him, and that they’re being sent to this same address. He lived here.

The sofa creaks as he rises up abruptly, searching anywhere he can for a phone. Finding it in the corner, he dials his parents’ number, silently praying they hadn’t changed it. His Appa’s voice greets him on the phone, saying that they were currently away in Korea, but they’d be back at the end of this month, and he lets out a heavy sigh. He was alone.

Seokjin thinks this is the weirdest dream he’s ever been in, but he’s interrupted by the sound of the sink turning on in what he can only assume is the bathroom in this place.

“Seokjin, babe?” a female voice calls out from behind the door, and he jumps back, terror seizing him. This must be the strange woman who kidnapped him! She was probably some kind of weirdo, why was she calling him babe?

Seokjin searches for something, anything he can use to protect himself, settling on an umbrella in the corner.

“I-, I know you’re there,” his voice wobbles as he yells out to the woman. “My parents are gonna be home soon!”

The door creaks open and out steps a woman. The first thing Seokjin can think of is legs. So much leg, peeking out at him from underneath a fluffy white towel. And then he screams again. Because she’s naked under there.

“Babe, where’s the conditioner?” she asks him, crossing her arms. Her chest is emphasized by this action, and Seokjin looks up at the ceiling. This was inappropriate. He had to get out of here now!

“Come join me!” her voice fades into the background as he runs, grabbing the first coat and the first pair of shoes he sees in the entryway. The stairs of the unfamiliar building wind around him as he descends, his head spinning, and before he knows it, he’s through a golden set of doors and out onto a busy city street.

A strange buzzing comes from his pocket and Seokjin yelps. Was he being attacked? Had the government bugged him?

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you hear that?” he says frantically, pointing to his pocket. “Do you hear the buzzing?”

The woman passes him by without a second glance.

“Kim!” a voice calls out to him. “Get your ass over here!”

Seokjin turns to the sound of the voice and stops in his tracks when he sees the person calling out to him.

It’s Jackson Wang, all suited up for practice. But he’s not the Jackson Seokjin remembers, his tall looming figure from their middle school only growing more intimidating with the amount of Jackson has built over the years. The man chatters away on the phone angrily, gesturing for Seokjin to get in the car. What kind of world had he found himself in?

“I-, I don’t get in the car with strangers,” Seokjin says confidently, turning away from Jackson’s grabby hands. The man scoffs.

“Can you please just get in bro? We don’t have time for this, we’re gonna be late.”

“BAAABEEE?” Seokjin hears the voice from the apartment again, looking up to see the woman from the apartment calling down to him, now wearing a bra. She blows him kisses and giggles. He definitely did not want to be stuck with her.

His head feels like it’s gonna explode, caught between two horrifying situations. But right now even though it was Jackson, the dude in front of him seemed less weird, and so, he falls over into the seat of the car, the door slamming shut behind him.

During the car ride, Seokjin peers through the windows of the car, taking in the bright lights and busy streets of the city around him. He’s in awe. He never imagined being somewhere like this before.

“Dude, I know I’m your best friend, but you’re acting a little weird, even for me,” Jackson says next to him, and Seokjin straightens up, looking over at him. His best friend? Maybe he had all the answers to what was going on.

“We’re really best friends?” he asks, and the man snickers in response. “Something really weird is happening to me.”

“Oh god,” Jackson groans. “Did you finally get a girl pregnant?”

Seokjin feels his blood run cold. Pregnant? He hadn’t even kissed a girl yet, how could he get someone pregnant?

“NO!” Seokjin blurts out. “No, no, no, it’s even weirder! I slept in an apartment I’ve never seen before, and there was a naked girl in my bathroom and I almost saw her boobs!”

He finishes with an exhale, but the car comes to a screeching halt at the exact same time, the other man not even saying a word before he gets out.

“W-wait,” Seokjin runs after him. “Please don’t leave me here, just listen to me, I’m thirteen years old–”

“If you’re gonna start lying about your age, Kim, I’d make sure it was something legal at least,” Jackson smirks, walking ahead of him on the street.

“I know it sounds weird, but strange things are happening to me, like, like that!!”

The buzzing in Seokjin’s pocket starts again, and he freaks out, spinning in a circle as he tries to locate the source.

“Would you stop it?” Jackson pulls something out of Seokjin’s pocket. It’s a shiny, flat, metallic object that continues to buzz in his hands. “It’s probably just Coach.”

“C-coach? Who Coach? What Coach?” He feels like his head is about to explode.

The phone is held to Seokjin’s ear.

“HEY BAABEEE!” A voice drawls on the other end, and Seokjin screams, throwing the phone to his companion.

“Get her away from me!” he yelps.

“Okay, listen to me!” Jackson roars, stopping Seokjin in his tracks. “You need to calm down. We have a team meeting in ten minutes. I’m going to tell you what to do, you just need to repeat after me.”

“Ok,” Seokjin says, taking a deep breath.

“I am Kim Seokjin, star batsman for the Eagles. I am a tough bastard, and I’m gonna walk into the stadium and not let anyone know I’m hungover.”

“I’m–” Seokjin prepares to repeat the words, but stops when he hears the rest of them. “I AM?”

But Jackson is already gone, disappearing behind the double doors that lead to a stadium Seokjin never thought he’d find himself going into. The Eagles. His dream team.

Seokjin follows Jackson through the stadium, oohing and ahhing at all the different banners and pieces of sports memorabilia that are on display. This has to be the wildest field trip he’s ever been on.

The man next to him scoffs.

“It’s not like you come here every day,” he chuckles, sarcasm seeping into his voice.

“I DO?” Seokjin can’t believe his ears.

The two of them walk through, scores of people greeting Seokjin and wishing him a good morning. He doesn’t know any of them, their faces all unfamiliar. But they knew him. They knew him and they loved him. He was a star.

“There he is, our star batsman!!” a voice bellows, and Seokjin is attacked by a man throwing him into the biggest bear hug.

“Coach,” Jackson whispers.

“Coach!” Seokjin repeats with a squeak, feeling the wind get knocked out of him. “You’re my coach!”

“That’s right kiddo, who’s your daddy?” the man chortles, and Seokjin responds with eagerness.

“His name is Kim— ow!” He’s cut off by a sharp jab to his chest.

He follows the two men into the dugout, surprised to see a room full of men wearing Eagles jerseys. The team. This was the team. He was on their team!

Seokjin buzzes with excitement, waving hello to all the players with a bounce in his step. They all look at him with concern etched in their features, and the guy he came with urges him to sit down in a cubby. The shiny letters of “4 Kim” greet him, etched on the plaque that adorns the space, and a weird feeling of pride bubbles in his chest. He’d made it.

“Team,” Coach clears his throat, and a hush falls over the room, the commotion dying down. “We need to get it together. The Hawks have consistently outplayed us in every game of the season this year, and they’ve been using our own plays against us. We need to move fast, beat them at their own game, hit them when they least expect it, especially if we have any chance of making it to the playoffs this year! Don’t you agree, Kim?”

It takes a second for Seokjin to realize the man is referring to him, and he sits up straight, anxiety kicking in because he hadn’t prepared a response to his impassioned speech.

He raises his hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

The team erupts into laughter, howls echoing off the walls of the dugout, before Coach blows his whistle, silencing them all at once.

“Get out there on the field boys, we don’t have time to mess around,” and Seokjin rises up, ready to throw the ball around for a bit, happy for the familiarity of baseball to make him feel grounded when it seemed like everything about his life was upside down.

“Not you, Kim,” Coach holds out a hand to stop him. “You’re injured, remember? Your physical therapy with the doctor is in five minutes. Don’t be late.” And with a nod, he leaves.

Seokjin was even more confused. Injured? But he didn’t remember getting into an accident of any kind.

He hoped whoever this doctor was, they could help give him some answers.

The clacking of heels signals your arrival moments later, Seokjin lifting his head up to asses the new entry to the dugout. When his eyes fall on you, he sucks in a sharp breath.

Wow. You had to be the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, pencil skirt hugging your figure perfectly, hips tapering out to an ass that he knew Irene Bae couldn’t have accomplished no matter how much she stuffed her cheerleading uniform with toilet paper. His eyes travel upwards, falling on your chest, and immediately he blushes, reminded of the woman in the apartment this morning. Your boobs are covered by a silky top, the fabric doing nothing to hide their shape, and Seokjin gulps. They look way nicer than hers, anyway. He wants to rest his face on them like a pillow.

Maybe he should ask you out on a date first, though.

“Hi Jin!” your soft voice greets him happily, a dazzling smile taking over your features, and Seokjin feels his heart speed up. He hadn’t felt this dizzy since he saw a poster of Beyonce in a bikini when he was shopping at Target with his mom. “How are you doing today?”

“F-fine,” Seokjin stammers, unable to look you in the eyes when you take a seat next to him. He tries to find interest in the specks that line the floor, but your smell overwhelms him, the sweet floral scent attacking his nose. You looked nice, sounded nice, and you even smelled nice. Not to mention you were actually nice.

And he was supposed to be alone with you? For longer than five minutes? Seokjin thinks he’ll pass out if you get any closer to him.

“How’s the leg?” you ask him, leaning over until your face is right next to his. Seokjin forces himself to look away with a blush, grumbling about how it’s okay. He wasn’t sure whether his leg or his chest ached more right now with the way you were staring at him.

“Let me take a look!” you say cheerfully, dropping to your knees, and reaching out to grab his calf, and Seokjin thinks he might throw up with the way he can see down your shirt, the soft white lace of your bra doing things to his head. He’d never seen someone more beautiful in his life. And you were taking care of him.

The next twenty minutes are pure torture, Seokjin holding his breath as you poke and prod all over his leg, stretching it in and out with curious eyes. At some point, he feels his pants start to become tight and freaks when he looks down and sees the beginning of a boner in his sweats.

He coughs loudly, causing you to jump in surprise dropping his leg, and he immediately finds the nearest mitt and puts it on his lap to hide his unfortunate surprise guest. You smile up at him, rising to your feet.

“Your leg is doing great,” you tell him. “It should be all healed up soon, just in time for the playoffs. And then you won’t need to see me anymore.”

“Wait,” Seokjin chokes. He just met you! He needed you to stick around. Maybe you knew something about him, about what was going on. “What do you mean, ar-are you gonna leave?”

You cock your head curiously at him, and Seokjin shrinks into his seat at your intense gaze. Was he being weird around you?

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly. “I’ll always be here when you need me, Jin.”

Seokjin’s heart pounds at your words, and he shyly rubs at the back of his neck.

“Thanks! See you again—” he blanks when he realizes he doesn’t know who you are.

“___,” you tell him, raising your eyebrows up at him, turning to leave. “Seokjin? Next time you come to physical therapy, try not to be hungover, okay?”

He watches you leave with a dazed smile on his face. ___. Meeting you had been the highlight of his day so far. Despite how strange everything had been, he knew he couldn’t wait to see you again.

Seokjin catches the ball with an oomph!, shocked at how fast these players could throw. It’d only been a day since he found himself in this new body, and he’d stumbled home confused after his session with you yesterday, eventually caving and trying desperately to hail a taxi to take him back to the apartment. He sobbed in relief when he saw the strange woman was nowhere to be found, slumping against the door and finally allowing himself to breathe for the first time all day. Tears tracked down his face as he thought of how often he’d wished for this, the life he’d wanted so desperately finally finding him in the end.

Even now, as he tosses the ball back and forth, he’s unable to believe it. Him, the star batsman for the team he’d idolized growing up? He wanted to call his Eomma and tell her, but paused when he realized she probably already knew.

“Something on your mind?” Jackson says to him with a laugh, throwing a curveball, and Seokjin feels his palm burn from the force of catching it.

Seokjin surveys the man who was the last person he remembered before everything changed, and wonders how they ever became friends. He wants to ask, but something feels uneasy about it – like Jackson would judge him for it. He would probably think Seokjin was clinically insane if he even tried to bring up how he fell asleep thirteen and woke up thirty one day.

He wishes there was someone he could talk to, someone who got it, and that’s when he sees you waving from across the field. You’re dressed more casually today, in slacks and a soft-looking sweater, and yet you still manage to be absolutely stunning.

Seokjin feels guilty for staring at you so much like he’s a stupid thirteen-year-old with a crush on his teacher, but he also genuinely enjoyed spending time with you yesterday. Despite your annoyance at his “hangover”, you hadn’t taken it out on him with words as the others had; you went about the session as normal and treated him with kindness the entire time through.

Seokjin waves goodbye to Jackson, sprinting in your direction. He misses the way Jackson’s eyes follow his back, trained on the way you greet him with a smile, the two of you heading back into the dugout.

“Soooo, you’re a doctor?” Seokjin can’t help himself from asking, immediately feeling stupid when he realizes that he’s meant to have known you for a while. He couldn’t help it - you felt like the only real thing he could latch onto in this world, his mind running a thousand miles a minute as he processed all the new changes that had occurred.

“Yup! I studied sports medicine in college, then went to med school,” you answer politely, your tone giving no indication that you found him weird at all.

“That’s cool, you must be super smart, 7th grade bio is hard enough for me,” Jin laments, immediately realizing his mistake with a soft gasp. “Was. It was hard for me, you know, back in seventh grade.”

“Are you sure you’re okay Seokjin?” you look up at him, eyes filled with concern.

Tears prick at Seokjin’s eyes, the earnest tone of your voice giving him the push he needed to be honest. No, he was not okay. He wasn’t okay, and he needed someone to talk to, and he thinks that you, of all people, might be able to understand. After all, your entire job involved empathy.

“Something really weird is happening,” he confesses, watching you listen carefully to his words. “I don’t know what’s been going on, but the last thing I remember, I was sitting in my closet, and it’s like I’m in a weird dream. I feel like I skipped half my life – I can’t remember the person I used to be, or what my life was like at all. It’s like I don’t even recognize myself.”

“I think I need help,” he continues. “I need help remembering who I was before. You’ve known me for a little bit, right ___? Do you think you could help?”

Seokjin thought he was onto something, but his heart drops to his stomach when he looks up and he sees you, face pale and lip trembling like you’re about to cry.

“I–, I don’t know if I’m the best person to help you with that Seokjin, maybe you should ask Jackson,” you respond, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Why?” he leans over to look into your eyes, shocked when they’re as misty as his own. “What happened, ___?”

Before he knows it, the vulnerable look in your eyes is gone, and you’re back to your normal, cheerful self.

“Hey,” you tell him. “Why don’t we pack it up for today? I’ll walk you back home to your apartment.”

“Okay,” Seokjin says, stomach still churning at the pained look you’d had moments before. “But can we get milkshakes?”

You smile at him, a look of fondness coming over you. You rise, beckoning him to follow you outside.

“I think we can manage that.”

The slurp of a straw interrupts your thoughts, and you look over to see Seokjin, eyes wide with delight as he drinks up the last of his milkshake, the whipped cream forming a mustache on his top lip.

You’re puzzled. The Seokjin you’d known before would have never agreed to hang out with you, let alone talk to you for an extended period of time. For as long as you’d known him, even in college, he’d been too arrogant for his own good, obsessed with letting everyone know the world revolved around him and him only. The man sitting in front of you is completely different, transformed in a way that didn’t even seem real.

The Seokjin that sat with you now seemed infinitely more unsure of himself, shy and hesitant in the way that only a child would be. You wonder what could have changed so suddenly. Coach hadn’t given you any reports about him undergoing head trauma in addition to his leg injury.

“Thank you for the milkshake,’’ Seokjin grins, wiping the cream off his lips, and you hate the way your heart skips a beat at that. You curse yourself for the moment of weakness, even after all this time.

“We went to college together,” you blurt out, not knowing why you chose to reveal this piece of information, given that he likely already knew it. “Me, you, and Jackson.”

Seokjin’s mouth gapes open, a shocked gasp escaping his open mouth.

“Really?” he says leaning in closer to you. “Were we friends?”

You furrow your brow in confusion. Had he really forgotten college? I mean it had been nearly a decade ago, and it wasn’t like life had drawn you back together until recently.

“Not really, you moved in a different crowd,” you chuckle. “Like not the nerdy, study in the library kind. More like the frat rager kind.”

“WHOAAAA,” Seokjin marvels in wonder, his voice filled with childlike glee. “That sounds awesome.”

“What if this isn’t just a dream? What if what I wished for actually happened?” he continues, softer this time, but you still pick up on it.

Reaching a hand towards him, you pull away at the last moment, unsure why you were acting so wildly out of character with him. It was like the energy between you two had completely changed.

“Well, you got everything you ever wanted, then, might as well enjoy it,” you smile at him, heart fluttering when he gives you a sincere smile back, his cheeks puffing out with happiness.

“I have to run,” you get up abruptly, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “But I’ll see you at the gala tonight?”

“What gala?” he asks, eyes looking up at your curiously. Your stomach turns in disbelief. Did he actually not remember? Maybe his schedule was so busy he’d forgotten.

“The charity gala that I organized for the team tonight,” you tell him. “The one to raise money for medical care for athletes who’ve suffered a career-ending injury?”

“Oh! I’ll be there,” Seokjin says confidently, beaming at you. You give him a weak smile back, knowing you have to leave before you did something stupid and made the same mistake twice.

“Arrivederci, ___!” he waves, turning to walk in the other direction before he disappears around the corner.

“Au revoir,” you whisper back softly.

Your life was completely different now, and there was no place for him in it.

Seokjin straightens his tie before stepping into his closet, perusing the many suit options he had. He wanted to pick his best outfit to impress you with tonight, but he was feeling overwhelmed with the size of the space, missing the days when his Eomma would drag him to Goodwill and they’d find the cheapest one that fit.

He settles on a navy blue one, throwing the jacket over his shoulders, and pushing his hair up off his face, before taking a step back to look at himself in the mirror.

Whoa. Seokjin still couldn’t get used to the way his body had changed, remembering the ugly duckling phase he’d been in the middle of before being transported here. He wonders if he was able to talk to a lot of girls now that he was more confident. Maybe he’d even had a past girlfriend that he didn’t know about. Maybe they’d even had sex.

Seokjin’s cheeks burn when he thinks about it, your face in the back of his mind. He imagines what it’d be like to kiss you, thinking about how soft your lips would feel. Why had the two of you never dated? Maybe because you worked together? Whatever it was, he hoped he could change your mind about it.

Stepping out of his apartment, he skips down the hallway to the elevator, giddy to be going to his first grown-up party. Well, not technically his first, but more like the first, he could remember. The elevator dings and Seokjin makes his way inside, a little boy his only other companion.

“Hi,” Seokjin says, but the boy just ignores him, looking at his phone.

“I’m Seokjin,” he says, extending a hand that catches the boy’s attention.

“Jungwoo,” the boy says, looking hesitant as he accepts the handshake. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Why not?” Seokjin says, feeling confused. “We’re neighbours, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungwoo responds despondently. “But you usually ignore me most of the time.”

The way he says it makes Seokjin feel horrible inside. He would never purposefully ignore someone like that, not after knowing what it felt like as a kid. He wonders what the 30-year-old version of him had been like to warrant such a reaction.

“How old are you, Jungwoo?”

“I’m thirteen,” Jungwoo responds, and all of a sudden, the elevator comes to a stop, signaling their arrival at the ground floor. Jungwoo walks out without another word, Seokjin running after him.

“Wait!” he says sharply, watching Jungwoo turn to look at him in shock. “You should come over and hang out sometime, we can watch some baseball together.”

“Really?” Jungwoo says hopefully.

“Yeah,” Seokjin smiles, patting him on the back. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later!”

And Seokjin runs out the door, excited not only to have made a new friend but at the fact that it felt like this strange life of his was finally clicking into place.

The room spins around you, and you can’t tell whether it’s because the arm around you feels too tight tonight or because the music is boring as heck. You want nothing more than to sit down, knowing all the attention would be on you in a matter of moments, and the thought made you sick.

What made you even more nauseous was your partner’s maroon tux. Maroon. To match your navy blue. When you’d asked why he hadn’t worn the same color, his only response was:

“Babe, this little thing isn’t that serious, right? It’s about the money.”

You excuse yourself, wanting to find some investors to talk to about how to contribute their generous wealth towards your aspiring fund, only to catch sight of Kim Seokjin in a corner, knocking back drinks with a giddy smile.

“____!” he waves you over happily when he sees you, taking your hand to pull you in close to him. “I can’t believe it’s 10:00 pm on a school night and I’m at a party, drinking pina coladas that aren’t virgin!”

Your jaw drops open when you see what he’s wearing. Navy blue - a smart-looking suit to match your gown perfectly, and you feel the back of your neck grow hot with thoughts you shouldn’t be having.

“Glad to see you’re doing better now,” you giggle, and his smirk turns lopsided with glee at your kind words, its unintended effect being to cause butterflies to bubble in your chest.

“I’d be even better if they turned off this boring music,” he slurs contentedly, taking another drink from the server. “Why don’t they play some throwback tunes in here?”

“I’m not sure that fits with the sophisticated vibes needed to gain a corporate sponsorship for my cause, I’m afraid.”

“I’d donate money to you,” he says softly, his warm eyes twinkling from the numerous fairy lights as they meet yours. “Heck, I’d give you my entire paycheck.”

Setting the glass down, all signs of his previous tipsiness disappear as he regards you with a serious stare. You watch his cheeks flush, his gaze dropping to the low neckline as he sharply inhales, bringing his eyes back up to your face.

“Wanna go for a spin?”

You’re mesmerized by him, transfixed as you take his hand, the two of you retreating into a private corner of the ballroom, right by the open-air balcony. The cool breeze creates shivers down your spine as Seokjin pulls you close, his warm breath fanning against your face, and despite your best efforts to look past him and out onto the city lights, you find you can’t take your eyes off him.

It all feels too short, barely a minute of you swaying in Seokjin’s arms before the beat changes abruptly, Usher blasting through the speakers. You feel achingly empty when Seokjin’s hand leaves yours, but the smile returns to your face when a moment later, he begins head-banging and gyrating goofily to the new song.

“Now this is more like it,” he hollers, and you can’t help but join him the two of you twisting and turning until you’re laughing, out of breath and delirious with joy.

The joy is cut short when another shadow looms over your meeting, pulling you into his arms.

“___, babe there you are! What are you and Kim doing hiding away in this corner?” Jackson pulls you into his side, and your stomach drops when you watch Seokjin’s eyes go wide with a mix of shock, and what you can only assume is pain.

“Sorry Kim, I know you get her for the PT during practice, but she’s mine for the PT after hours if you know what I mean,” Jackson grins, pressing a kiss to your hair.

Seokjin’s mouth remains agape, and you watch his eyes glimmer with realization as he pans to the thin band that adorns your left ring finger, finally noticing its presence for the first time.

A sharp squeal interrupts the tense moment between you, and you notice a woman in the tightest dress you’ve ever seen run over to Seokjin, nearly knocking him over as she wraps her arms around him. His entire body tenses up, and you want nothing more than to smooth over the hair that has fallen into his face.

“Baaabe, you’ve been ignoring me,” the woman whines, her nasal voice grating your ears. Of course. It’s Jennie Kim, model extraordinaire. Of course, she would be Seokjin’s date now – a match worthy of his striking looks and personality.

“Who are they?” she says vapidly, taking in you and Jackson’s entwined figures.

“I, uh, these are, this is ___, and Jackson, coworkers, and friends from college,” he stutters, trying to unravel himself from her death grip. “And this is, uh, uhm…’

“Jennie Kim!” Jackson immediately lets you go to take her hand, shaking it furiously. “So nice to meet you!”

“Babe, we should get going,” Jennie tugs on Seokjin’s shoulder. “Don’t you remember we kind of had other plans for the night?”

“W-we did?” Seokjin stammers, and you decide you need to walk away, lightly tugging Jackson’s arm to follow you across the ballroom. Of course, he’d go home with her - she was beautiful, successful, and perfect. And you were just you.

“___,” you hear Seokjin��s voice behind you, yet you don’t want to hear anything he has to say. Jackson has left your side once again, going back to talk animatedly to Jennie, and you’re alone together once again.

“Should I go home with her? Jennie? Is it a good idea?” he asks, and you turn, meeting his gaze, which seems so earnest, so genuinely filled with concern for what you thought. Or at least that’s what your overthinking mind told you, kicking back into gear after eight years of wiping all thoughts of Seokjin from your memory.

“Yeah, you should,” you tell him honestly, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. “She’s your girlfriend, after all.”

Seokjin yawns, Jungwoo’s animated voice yapping away in his ear as the two of them walk down to the lobby together. His night had gone later than he expected - too much of it spent lost in the city streets as he’d run out of Jennie’s apartment, not expecting her naked boobs to be in his face the moment they’d come in. Her hands had been all over him, ignoring his suggestions of quitting to watch a movie or maybe even play a game of Monopoly.

“Girls are sooo stupid,” Jungwoo sighs. “Why don’t the ones you like ever like you? Why do they give all these weird signals?”

“Tell me about it,” Seokjin sighs, your face immediately coming to his mind, thinking about how you’d felt in his arms at the gala. Obviously, you’d looked beautiful, but underneath the dim lights, you shone in a way that he didn’t think was possible, one that made him feel very strange on the inside.

“Love is a battlefield, my friend,” Seokjin ruffles the kid’s hair before getting into his waiting taxi and waving goodbye. “Have fun with fractions! Remember, always divide by the number on the bottom!”

. . .

Coach was furious. The team was failing, their chances of making the playoffs dismal, and he made that clear with how he ripped into them with the speech.

“You better shape up now, or this franchise as we know it will be over!”

“Maybe that’s what we need,” Seokjin blurts out, watching the entire team turn to him. “Maybe we need to get our asses handed to us. Maybe we need to actually experience loss to realize how much is at stake. Because winning is great and all, but don’t we learn more from our failures?”

The locker room is abuzz with chatter, Coach clapping Seokjin on the back.

“I knew you wouldn’t let the hate get to you, kid,” he says, and Seokjin looks at him blankly, wondering what he could be referring to.

“ESPN?” Coach says. “That article they ran a few months ago about you being a slimy, unprofessional cheat just because you “injured” that player for the Cardinals? I knew it was all BS. I mean look at you, how could you hurt somebody when you’re injured yourself?”

Seokjin’s stomach sinks. He’d hurt another player? That was something he’d never dreamed of doing. He loved baseball, and everyone deserved to experience the joy of the sport, whether it was through winning or losing. That was what made a good player, not sabotaging others.

One by one, the players get ready for practice, Seokjin finally suiting up to go bat for the first time in a while. His sessions with you had tapered down as he recovered, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. The more and more he thought about the life he’d always wanted, one as a star baseball player, the more awful it seemed. Being a grown-up wasn’t as fun as he thought - people were liars, cheaters, and just plain old mean. But you weren’t like that.

The bat slams against the ball with a satisfying crack, soaring out towards the far end of the field, and Seokjin prepares to run. But two voices behind him make him stop in his tracks.

“Can’t believe Coach is trusting Kim and his new weird-ass stunt,” Jackson seethes. “Like he’s really gonna help rebrand the team? All he cares about is himself.”

“Yup, the prick was the entire reason our last shortstop got traded,” Jaehyun, one of the left fielders, hisses. “Can’t believe Kim had an affair with the guy’s wife.”

Seokjin drops the bat with a clank, the entire team turning to look at him. But he doesn’t care, storming off into the dugout. Was this really who he was? A bully and a cheater? Being thirty no longer seemed like a dream, it was steadily turning into a nightmare.

Storming through the dugout, he finally finds the door to your office, sighing heavily as he raps against it.

You open it within seconds, shocked to see his dejected figure standing in front of you.

“Wanna go for a walk, ___?”

“I can’t believe you and Jackson are getting married,” Seokjin remarks as the two of you walk, bringing up the proverbial elephant he’d wanted to ask you about ever since the night of the gala.

“Only a couple of weeks now,” you respond, wrapping your arms around you to fight off the chill, and Seokjin wishes he’d brought a jacket to keep you warm.

“Are you guys soulmates?” he asks, genuinely curious to know the answer. ‘Do you get butterflies when you’re around him?”

He knows that his question is loaded, that underneath it hides the depth of the feelings he’s managed to keep concealed for all this time, but he asks anyway, knowing the answer may hurt him.

“Nahh, I don’t really believe in that anymore. The last time I was crazy like that for a guy was in college,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders.

“Why weren’t we ever friends back then?” he asks you again, feeling you come to a stop next to him, your heavy sigh permeating the tense air between you.

“Listen,” you tell him, and your voice sounds thick with what he thinks are tears, “Can we just please forget about it? It was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Seokjin knows he may not have any reason to apologize but he still wants to anyway. It seemed like he’d left a trail of destruction behind him wherever you went.

“Seokjin, no, please, you don’t have to apologize,” you grab his hand and give him a weak smile, trying vainly to reassure him, but his rapidly racing thoughts get in the way.

“I want to though,” he says back, his own voice cracking. “I mean, do you even know the kind of person I am, ___? I don’t have friends, I just use people, I slept with a teammate's wife, and I never talk to my parents. I’m not a nice person. And the thing is, I’m not thirteen anymore. I need to stop living in the past.”

And with that, he lets you go, ignoring your cries of protest as he runs away, his mistakes following him until he gets home. Closing the door behind him, he slumps to the floor, sobbing while he dials his parents' number.

It was time for him to make things right.

Seokjin stares down at the facade of the house he’d grown up with, the chipped paint and wide windows instantly soothing his heart. The train ride over had been brutal, his empty eyes watching the scenery drift by aimlessly, ignoring the giggles of the group of teenagers that sat next to him.

He wished he could tell them to stay happy and young forever, to continue living without a care in the world. Being a grown-up wasn’t worth it. Instead of bringing him the happiness and the belonging he’d craved, it only made him feel more alone, more empty inside than he’d ever felt as an awkward teen.

Stepping onto the porch, he reaches under the doormat, relieved to see his parents left a spare key there. It was like they��d been waiting for him to come home this entire time.

As he walks through the door, a chilling realization sets in. The house was empty. His parents weren’t here, they were probably in Korea. And all at once, Seokjin’s hope for coming back came crashing down.

Stepping out of his shoes, he leaves them at the door, sprinting up the stairs to his room. The door creaks open, and Seokjin lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

The bed is gone, replaced with a treadmill. The walls had been repainted, the floors redone. The lone thing that remained of his was the desk in the corner, all his belongings still on it. It serves only to remind him that his parents had always waited for him to come home, but eventually, they too must have grown tired of him.

A sob escapes him, and he realized he’d disappeared completely from their lives, not even bothering to keep up with the only people who’d loved him unconditionally his entire life. All of a sudden he feels nauseous, his stomach turning as he realized the fate the threads of time had woven him - a life of loneliness. One where he spent so much time garnering attention, only to be a forgotten soul anyway.

He rushes into the basement, the garish yellow walls exactly as they’d been seventeen years ago, and locks himself in the utility closet. Tears stain his face as he hiccups, slamming his head back against the wall.

“I wish I was thirteen again, I wish I was thirteen again.” But his pleading words fail to work this time around.

He doesn’t know how long he remains crumpled up in the closet, but he doesn’t hear the front door open. He doesn’t hear his parents pad down the basement stairs, umbrellas in hand until the closet door opens, light seeps in, and he’s met with their concerned faces.

Seokjin leaps to his feet, throwing his arms around them.

“Eomma, Appa, I missed you. I missed you both so much.”

. . .

The rain patters against the window, and Seokjin turns over on the couch, watching it gently fall. After a bowl of his Eomma’s kimchi jjigae, he’d felt the most like himself he had in a long time, the two of them fretting over how thin he’d gotten.

But now, alone in the living room, Seokjin felt like an intruder again. His parents were more used to living without him than with him.

Suddenly, his throat feels dry, the number of tears he’d shed today leaving him parched. He gets up, padding over to the kitchen, keeping his footsteps soft so he doesn’t disturb his parents. Flicking the light on, he walks over to the fridge, opening it to get the water jug out.

“Seokjinnie?” his Eomma’s soft voice comes from behind him. “What are you doing awake at this time?”

Seokjin should have known better than to get up in the middle of the night. His Eomma’s sixth sense had always been knowing when her child needed something. Within five minutes, she’s boiling some frozen dumplings and chopping up vegetables to make him food.

He’s grateful for her attention, but his stomach churns with nausea. She may be the only other person he can talk to about this. Other than you.

“Eomma,” he interrupts her quiet concentration, and she looks over at him from the stove, her eyebrows etched with concern. “If you were given a chance, do you ever wish you could go back? Like to a different time?”

“I’d love to go back and take care of some of these wrinkles,” she chuckles, and Seokjin smiles along with her. Her face hasn’t changed at all since he was thirteen, still as youthful as ever.

“Yeah, but if you were given a do-over, let’s say, what would you change? Like if you made a big mistake,” Seokjin asks, wondering if having regrets was just part of growing older and whether there was still hope.

“Well, I don’t regret making any mistakes in my life, because if I hadn’t made them, I wouldn’t have known how to make them right,” she responds, a knowing twinkle in her eye when she sees Seokjin staring down at the food, failing to meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry I haven’t come home in a while,” he says, his voice heavy with regret. His Eomma reaches across the table, taking his hand in her smaller one, and squeezing it gently.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“This doesn’t make sense, I’m not even good at baseball,” you tell Seokjin. “Why do you want to practice with me?”

Seokjin looks at you, strolling through the park with him in a cosy-looking hoodie and jeans. While your outfit may not have been ideal for baseball practice, the way he looked at you still sent your heart aflutter, and you wondered what it’d be like to wear one of his oversized sweatshirts.

“That’s exactly the point, ____, I’ve gotten too comfortable practicing with the team. I know their every move, but we need to step it up for the playoffs. That’s why I need someone different. Someone who can keep me on my toes. Someone like you.”

You cover your face with your hands shyly, palms out towards him, and that’s when he decides to launch a curveball.

“OW!” you yelp. “Hey, I wasn’t ready for that!”

“Like I said,” Seokjin smirks. “I need you to keep me on my toes. Looks like you need me to do the same.”

The two of you toss around the ball for a while, your throws being much more unpredictable and much less powerful than Seokjin’s. Your ego inflated exponentially when you saw him miss a few, a smug expression on your face. When you look up at the sky, you realize it’s gotten dark, the sun beginning to set behind the trees.

“Hahaha, looks like the team might need a replacement pitcher soon,” you taunt him.

“In your dreams, ___, stick to helping people instead,” he laughs, immediately running towards you with a devious grin.

You squeal, running away from him, the two of you chasing each other through the park, your laughter echoing through the trees the entire way.

Eventually, your legs tire, and you slow down, hiding behind a tree out of his sight. It’s all for nothing when you hear his footsteps thud on the running path behind you, his arms coming to wrap around you, sending the two of you toppling into the grass.

“Ahhh, shit, that hurt more than it should have,” you groan, shifting onto your back. “We’re getting old.”

When you look up at him, your heart stops. Your heavy breathing slows as you look up at him, the stars from the night sky reflected in his eyes when he stares down at you, something hidden in their depths that makes your chest come alive with excitement.

“Wanna know a secret, ____?” he laughs, stroking your wrist gently with his thumb, and you look over to see your hands intertwined. You hadn’t even noticed you were holding his.

“You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever known.”

Seokjin’s plush lips descend towards yours, your breaths mingling for a brief moment before panic sets in, and you turn the other way, his kiss ending up on your cheek instead. You feel dizzy with emotion, immediately regretting the decision, knowing all you wanted to know was if his lips felt as soft as they looked. You’d been fooling yourself for so long, thinking your feelings for him had gone away.

You sit up, silence heavy in between you both, but you don’t leave, instead wrapping your arms around him and leaning onto his shoulder. He sighs contentedly, nuzzling against you, and the two of you remain there, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance.

“Ew, what do you mean you guys didn’t kiss properly,” Jungwoo looks at Seokjin from across his bed, five other pairs of young, curious eyes looking over at him. “Did she have cooties or something?”

“Stop it!” Soobin punches Jungwoo in the shoulder, earning a glare from the other boy. “You’re ruining the romance. Are you gonna ask her out, Jin?”

The baseball game in the background remains forgotten as the boys erupt with chatter, arguing amongst themselves about how to ask out a girl.

“I don’t know, guys,” Seokjin says dejectedly, wondering if the reason you’d only let him kiss you on the cheek was because you were engaged to Jackson. “It’s complicated with like, grownup stuff.”

“At least you have someone who likes you,” Felix groans. “Girls don’t exactly want to jump your bones when you’re a metal mouth.”

Seokjin jumps up at that, shushing Felix for even saying such a ludicrous thing.

“None of that, okay! We are young, and we are thriving. Love may be a battlefield, but we’re the Earth’s finest soldiers. So let’s get out there, yeah?”

. . .

It’s finally here. The game that will make or break the Eagles’ season. And it’s also Seokjin’s first game back. The locker room is abuzz with tension and anxiousness, the players tripping around each other as they get ready.

In his cubby, Seokjin sits, and thinks. This was the moment he’d waited his entire life for. To be a star player, and to win a championship. Yet, in the grand scheme of things that had occurred, it was just another thing he had to do. He no longer faced the same anxiety he had during the day of the tryouts, wondering if he was good enough. He knew now that he was. That all of them were.

“Kim!” Coach slaps him across the back. “Speech please!”

Seokjin rises up and looks at his fellow men and teammates. He feels silly, giving a speech to them when he’s probably the lamest out of all of them, with thirteen-year-olds for friends and a hopeless crush on a girl. But then he remembers the words of that kid in the bathroom right before everything had changed. Hobi.

And he’d rather be original than cool anyway.

“I think,” he begins. “Over the course of the season, we’ve all forgotten that we have a reason for this. Baseball is our sport, and it’s our career, yeah, but there’s more to us than that. We have families, friends, and people we love and care about. We’re doing this for them just as much as we’re doing it for us. Because when we go out there on that field, and we put the love we feel for ourselves, and for everyone around us, into the sport that we play, we’ll be at our best. We need to remember what used to be good, and harness that.”

The whole dugout is silent for a few terrifying moments before there’s a clap from the back of the room. It’s joined by another one until the whole room is thundering in applause, and Coach is hugging Seokjin with tears in his eyes.

“Looks like that time off did you real good, kid.”

. . .

Seokjin is the last one to leave after the victory, of course. He strips off his shirt, hitting the showers until all the sweat has dripped off his body, and now he pulls his workout gear over his head. The sound of a voice clearing behind him interrupts him, and he turns in surprise, seeing Jackson in the middle of the dugout.

“Hey,” Seokjin says. “Aren’t you supposed to go home? Isn’t ___ waiting for you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kim,” Jackson replies, ice in his tone. “I know your entire little stunt, and I’m here to tell you it’s not gonna work this time.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin feels his heart race at Jackson’s seething accusation.

“The moment this week ends, I’ll be married to ___, and I’m gonna ask Coach to trade me. You can’t have her this time, Kim. Do you think you can just bat your eyelashes and giggle and you’ll win the team over and get the girl? Nuh-uh. You’re still just a lame excuse of a person.”

Seokjin wants to protest, but he remains frozen, Jackson’s words causing his entire world to come crashing down around him. His lip begins to tremble, and when the first tear falls, he hears Jackson scoff, turning on his heels to leave.

“You never stood a chance, Kim. Deep down, you’re still just that scared, uncool thirteen-year-old. Nothing’s changed, and nothing ever will.”

The week before the playoffs passes in agony, Seokjin knowing that Jackson knew about his feelings for you, and the fact that he’d be traded, and you’d go with him. He spends all his time in his apartment, talking with Jungwoo about what to do, he and the younger boy go through many pints of ice cream.

In the end, he calls the one he knows he needs to hear from the most.

“Eomma?” he asks over the phone. It feels good to tell her everything finally. She’d squealed in delight when he told her about you, telling him that Jackson was just being a quote, “butthurt dipshit.” “What should I do?”

“Oh Seokjinnie, only you know that. Just stay true to yourself, and all the answers will come your way, my boy.”

When he hangs up the phone, a notification pings on it, and he gasps at the headline.

“Jackson Wang traded from Eagles.”

In all his misery, he’d forgotten what day it was. He was almost out of time.

. . .

The Internet was truly capable of modern miracles in this day and age, Jungwoo working his magic to help Seokjin find out the location of your wedding venue. Seokjin doesn’t even change out of his ratty sweats, throwing on his coat and running as fast as he can down the city streets, his phone overheating at how many times he ignored the maps function and changed direction.

Eventually, he comes to a stop outside the swanky hotel, strolling through the revolving doors and stumbling into the lobby. The finely dressed guests pay him no notice, and he manages to steal a bouquet of flowers, covering his face as he runs up the stairs two at a time, until he eventually finds your room number.

He knocks on the door, relieved to find it’s open, and that you’re alone. It must almost be time. You don’t notice him come in, too busy fixing your veil. A soft gasp escapes when you see him behind you in the mirror, disheveled and dripping with sweat, and you turn.

Seokjin thinks his heart might explode at how beautiful you look, your dress hugging every part of your body perfectly. But it’s more than that. Everything about you is radiant, glowing from the inside out. It’s like you’re the sun, and he’s the moon, your bright light complimenting his dim glow perfectly.

“Hey,” he manages to breathe out.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice heavy with disbelief that he’s actually here.

“____, I know I’m not the greatest person, but I’m trying to be better,” he reaches for you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and your hand comes up to join his, eyes glimmering with tears. “And I’d like to think if you also believed that about me, maybe you wouldn’t be marrying Jackson right now. That maybe things could be different.”

You whimper, trying hard to hold back the tears, and Seokjin doesn’t want you to ruin your makeup, so he wipes them for you.

“I can’t lie to myself anymore,” you tell him. “I felt things for you over these past few weeks that I haven’t felt for eight years. But I’ve also realized over the past few days that you can’t just turn back time.”

“Why not?” Seokjin asks earnestly. He wants to believe, has to believe that there might be a way for it to work.

“Because you made your choice, eight years ago in college, when I told you I liked you,” you respond, barely a whisper. “And you rejected me. I moved on and so did you. We’ve been going down different paths for so long, making different choices. And I chose Jackson.”

Seokjin feels dizzy, like the floor is about to collapse from underneath him. You’d liked him back then. And he’d been too caught up in his delusions to be honest with himself, to give you the chance that you deserved. And now it was too late. He knew growing up was about making mistakes, and learning how to deal with them, but somehow this mistake hurt more than anything he could have imagined.

“Don’t cry,” you say sadly, seeing his eyes fill with tears, mirroring your own.

“I’ll be fine,” he says with a weak smile, backing away. “I promise. I’m crying because I’m happy. I want you to be so, so happy.”

You reach around your neck, fumbling with the clasp of your necklace until it finally comes undone, putting it in his palm gently.

He looks down and chokes on a sob. It’s a tiny gold baseball glove. He’d never noticed it before. You close his palm around it, and he takes a step back, finding himself underneath the door.

“I love you, ___.”

He has to say it before he goes, he has to let you know how he feels.

“I love you too, Seokjin. I always have.”

And with that, he leaves.

. . . .

Seokjin stumbles down the steps of the hotel, hyperventilating as he finds himself back on the street, the tiny gold necklace still clutched in the palm of his hand.

He stumbles down the busy road, bumping into strangers, but not caring. All he could think about was the fact that you loved him back, and yet life was still so unfair. Seokjin felt stupid for even dreaming of this in the first place, realizing that dreams were nothing but a delusion. Things never turned out the way you wanted them to, the black and white of them always complicated by different shades of grey.

He finds an empty bench and sits down, clutching his knees to his chest like a child. Running his thumb over the delicate gold charm, he closes his eyes, wishing that none of this had ever happened to him, that he had just stayed thirteen this entire time.

He knew it was all for nothing, but that didn’t stop him from hoping one last time.

Seokjin jolts awake with a gasp, air burning his lungs and light hurting his eyes as the door to the locker is thrown open. His vision is blurry for a few seconds before it adjusts, and he looks up at his rescuer.

It’s a young girl, with a concerned look on her face.

“I heard you screaming, I live right next to the field. Are you okay?” she asks, and something about her seems familiar, but Seokjin can’t quite put his nose on it.

Looking down, he sees the dusty baseball mitt crushed in the palm of his hand, and running his tongue across his teeth, feels the metal of his braces, and his heart swells with joy. It worked! He was thirteen again. And now, he could finally start over.

“I’ll be fine,” he smiles at her, putting his glasses on. They rest crooked on the tip of his nose, but he doesn’t care. “Thanks for saving me.”

“No problem!” the girl reaches her hand out for him to shake. “I’m ___, by the way. I just moved here.”

Seokjin feels his heart stop, looking into your eyes, finding them to be the same ones he’d said goodbye to moments ago. Was this really true? Was the universe giving him another chance?

Taking his hand in hers, he shakes it, beaming down at her. “Nice to meet you, ___, I’m Jin. D-do, do you maybe want to go grab a milkshake and hang out?”

Your dazzling smile hasn’t changed at all, as you nod your head and laugh, the two of you walking out of the dugout and into the warm afternoon sun.

“I think we’re gonna be best friends, Jin.”

Epilogue

Seokjin pants, breath coming out in gasps as he carries the heavy box up the porch steps. He slams it onto the ground with a thud, putting his hands on his knees and letting out a loud groan, the muscles of his back aching. When he looks down, his mouth parts in surprise, the box’s tape having split open, revealing the myriad of photo frames that would soon decorate your new home.

From just a brief glance, Seokjin can already see a few pictures that make his heart swell, a dazed smile on his face. There was the one of you two at prom, when he’d almost confessed after seeing how stunning you looked in your dress but chickened out at the last minute. There was another from your college graduation, the two of you with bright eyes and wide smiles, ready to take on the future together. Another one from a date night at a game where he remembers the two of you getting caught on the jumbotron and making out in front of the crowd. His halmeoni blushed when she saw the video on tv the next day. On top of them all, though, sits Seokjin’s most prized possession: the framed photo of your wedding, Seokjin in a navy blue suit, and you in your dress, surrounded by your friends and family.

Growing up, Seokjin had a lot of dreams. A lot of them revolved around being cool, becoming someone worthy of your love. It was strange, but he’d fallen for you instantly the moment you’d rescued him from the locker, but it had taken years of your friendship for him to make a move. He’d always been so scared that his nerdy thirteen year old self would follow him through the years, and that he’d remain someone you never saw as a life partner. But he was wrong. Because you’d fallen for him too, spending years hiding your feelings in the same silly way. The day he married you was the day he’d realized all his dreams had finally come true.

Your soft footsteps come up behind him on the porch, and he turns to see you looking at him with a curious smile on your face. The sun shines behind you, bathing your face in its soft rays, and Seokjin can’t resist, lifting you up as you squeal, kicking your feet and the two of you stumble over the threshold together.

“That was a lot more romantic in my head,” he chuckles, offering you a hand up.

“Jinnie,” you poke his cheek. “Who’s gonna get the boxes from outside now, huh?”

Taking your hand in his, he pulls you further inside with him, wanting to cherish these precious moments with you. The boxes could wait a little longer. For now, he was excited to begin the rest of your life together.

“God, it’s fucking freezing,” you chatter your teeth, feeling Jin pull the blanket tighter around your shivering bodies on the floor. “Why did the heater have to break right before we moved in?”

His warm figure pulls you closer into him until your bodies are smushed together, limbs entangled in a mess.

“Nothing wrong with a little body heat,” he whispers, and even though you can’t see his face, you know he’s smirking.

You turn towards him, ignoring his soft ow! when you punch him in the chest, before burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your eyelids flutter, heavy from the fatigue of moving in all day, but the draft in the house causes you to shiver again in Seokjin’s arms. Looking up at your husband, you find his deep brown eyes focused on yours, his warm, gentle breath fanning against your face.

Seokjin’s fingers reach up to slowly brush a stray hair from your cheek, and despite the cold, you feel your body flush with warmth, bumping your nose against his accidentally before your lips meet Seokjin’s pillowy ones.

You’ve done this a thousand times, but every time feels like the first, Seokjin’s tongue tracing the seam of your lips before he bites at them, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Touch me,” you whisper against his mouth, and you feel Seokjin’s grip on your waist get tighter, his hands running up and down your sides until you’re shivering, but not from the cold.

He guides your hips over his, his right hand pushing you down against him until his hungry lips meet yours once again before they drop to mouth at your neck, sucking deep purple bruises into the flesh there, and you bite back a moan.

Seokjin detaches himself from your neck, eyes dark with arousal as he looks at the splotches and faint sheen of saliva on your neck, and you feel a wave of longing rush down towards your core, grabbing his hand that rests on your back and moving it underneath your shirt, cupping your breast in his hands before he squeezes.

From there, the two of you are frantic, fumbling with buttons and kicking your limbs until your clothes fly off, and you giggle at Seokjin’s pyjamas in the corner, the cartoon characters on them resembling miniature versions of your husband. Your laughter is cut off by a sharp groan when Seokjin’s teeth graze your collarbone, biting down lightly.

“You’re perfect,” he rasps, laving at the mark with his tongue. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

His fingers trace up your stomach, thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts before he tugs at your nipples, and you whine, grinding down into his lap. You feel him harden underneath you, and you roll your hips on top of him again, nails scratching down the broad planes of his back.

Seokjin flips you around, caging your body underneath him, his knee pushing up right where you need him, his tongue flattening against your stiff nipple, sucking and teasing the bud until it’s red and aching.

“Need you inside,” you bed him, your hips bucking against his knee while his hand slips between your legs, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

You feel the pressure in your stomach build, your movements stuttering against Seokjin’s fingers. It’s amazing, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough. You need to feel him.

“Look at me,” Seokjin whispers before he pushes himself inside of you, his eyes never leaving yours. You feel so unbelievably full, like you’re going to explode, body scorched with heat and nerves tingling in excitement.

He starts off slow, gently rocking into you, silently asking you if this is okay. His gentleness makes your heart feel like it’s going to explode, the moonlight shining on his skin and bathing him in the softest glow. You feel lucky that he’s yours forever.

You meet his thrusts with circles of your own hips, your back arching up off the blanket as you moan for him to go faster.

“This okay, babe?” His thrusts speed up, snapping into yours, and you’re unable to do anything but slur yes, your voice ringing in your own ears, your moans mingling with his soft groans as the two of you move in tandem, lost in the feeling of each other.

You grip his shoulders tightly, a string of curses exploding from your lips as the pleasure washes over you, your vision going white.

“Come for me ___,” Seokjin’s deep growl has you hurtling over the edge, trembling as you fall apart underneath him. You whine in oversensitivity when he continues moving inside of you, squeezing his hand until he collapses on top of you, his warm cum spilling into your wet heat.

“Fuck,” Seokjin groans, burying his face into your neck. “My back is gonna be so sore when we wake up.”

“Can you believe we’re here?” you ask him, looking into his eyes. “Married, with our own house? We’re so old now.”

You mean it as a joke, but Seokjin presses a kiss to your forehead, his sweaty arms wrapping you up in a tight hug.

“There’s no one I’d rather grow old with,” he smiles, before his expression turns mischievous. “Now, since we can’t sleep anyway, what do you say to getting some milkshakes, Mrs. Kim?”

“That sounds like a great idea, Mr. Kim.”

A/N pt 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

649 notes · View notes

windwheeler-aster · 2 years ago

Text

in the shadows

summary: the life of a spy is a dangerous one... and it certainty complicates their love lives.

masterlist

pairings (separate): diluc, kaeya, childe, zhongli, and xiao x reader

reader info: uses gender neutral pronouns (they/them), reader is a spy (diluc, zhongli, xiao) or a target (kaeya, childe), and reader is not traveler

word count: 4,397 words (16 min~) // 880 words per character (3 min~)

genre: Spy AU, Modern AU, romance

format: headcanons and blurbs

warnings: violence (mentions of knife, gun usage, assassinations), cursing, kind of suggestive themes (kayea’s part), reader being hospitilazied for injuries/being on a lot of medicine (zhongli’s part), and brain damage/injury mentions (xiao’s part, reader)

a/n: wow... i really can’t believe i started posting to this blog a year ago yesterday. it’s amazing how far i’ve come since that moment... and i wanted to thank you all for the continuous support since then💖 to another year of writing!

song recommendation: Play With Fire (feat. Yatch Money) by Sam Tinnesz

diluc ragnvindr, a fellow spy at your agency

he’s known around the agency to be a master of roleplay and disguise

rumors have it that he sometimes completely disappears into a role when assigned the longer missions

the higher ups love him, of course, so he always gets missions with the best pay

not that he needs it, though

another popular rumor amongst the paper-sorters of the agency is that mr. ragnvindr is secretly the heir to the largest wine tycoon in the country

being one of the on-field members of the agency, you know that rumor is true

and it peeves you off to no end that this already rich man is getting... well, richer

but... he’s still diluc, the best person to fall into any role needed

and, of course, your agency has paired you two up on a mission where diluc and you must pretend to be the perfect couple to protect a treasured client of the angency’s (read: the company’s biggest investor)

it’s almost unbearable for you

but the way diluc holds onto your waist, his forearm pressed against the small of your back, makes you think otherwise

and maybe, just maybe, mr. ragnvindr isn’t as horrible and stuck-up as you predicted him to be...

Another one of the servers came floating by your circle, offering glasses of champagne to everyone. Your target, an older gentleman, folded in half with laughter as he struggled to tell a joke. He accepted a glass of champagne, as do the two people standing closest to him. When the server turned to you and Diluc, you eye the flutes of beige-colored liquid with an appreciative gaze.

But then Diluc’s fingers pressed gently into your side, causing you to look at him.

We need to keep our minds focused, his eyes say.

We need to fit in, you argue silently.

But you comply to Diluc’s suggestion. You look at the server and dismiss them with a polite nod, and then turn back to the conversation at hand.

“— and he said to me,” the target wheezed, holding onto one of the other guests’ shoulders for support, “‘If you keep treating me like this, you’ll be losing your best employee!’” he wheezed again, and then said his punchline, “And I told him, ‘I’m not looking to retire anytime soon, young man!’”

The group chuckled, you and Diluc having to force a laugh to play along. When your eyes met, a look of understanding was shared between you two. Sleazy C.E.O.s, the worst clients the agency can give us.

Your target looked over to you and frowned. Panic seized your heart as you shifted your weight onto your other leg, leaning into Diluc more. What’s his problem? Do we not look... couple-y enough or something? Crap, is he going to blow our cover and cause a huge fuss because of it? I swear to the archons above if this fool tries anything I’ll—

“Mr. and Mx. Ragnvindr,” your target greeted. “You still haven’t helped yourself to some drinks. How come?”

Shit. You looked to Diluc with panic. Out of everything you two prepared for, a reason to not drink was not one of them. Archons above know that this man wouldn’t listen to a simple explination if it depended on his life. So you both struggled for a heartbeat before Diluc opened his mouth, an excuse on the tip of his tongue.

“Although we appreciate the offer, my love and I—”

But before Diluc could continue, a shrill scream echoed across the room. You both leaped away from one another and stood in front of your target, your backs facing him. As you and Diluc reached for your concealed weapons, you both heard party-goers begin to shout.

“Shit, he has a knife!”

“Everybody, get down!”

“A knife? At my party?” your target grumbled from behind you two.

But before he could get himself hurt, Diluc stopped him.

“Sir, I will have to ask you to sit back and let the professionals handle this,” he murmured, glancing at you with a sly grin. “Ready, love?”

You smirked and quickly pulled out your weapon, letting it flip in the air before you caught it by the handle, gracefully.

However, you almost drop your weapon to the floor when you glance back at Diluc. Your cheeks were set aflame once you realize how hot— no, elegant Diluc looked in a suit. And the way his lips pulled from a tight-lipped line into a handsome grin almost made you buckle at the knees.

But right now is not the time to get feelings, you reminded yourself.

“Of course I am, sweetheart,” you answer him, finally. Then, you add in a hushed whisper so your target couldn’t hear, “now let’s show this idiot why the agency sent their best agents to protect him.”

song recommendation: Sucks by RealLiveAnimals

kaeya alberich, a handsome stranger who has been talking to you for the whole evening

he’s handsome and suave, and not to mention smart as a whip

so for the entire evening, you two have been laughing and joking about the absurdity of this party

and you can’t help but catch the way he melts, ever so subtly, after you finish laughing

or how he guides you throughout the party, purposefully picking secluded areas so you two can hear each other over the noise

and even though you just met him today, kaeya made you want to spill every secret you had to him

which would have been perfect for kaeya— if you hadn’t stopped yourself from doing so

his agency had assigned him to pull secrets from you, someone who just so happened to be a close friend of another mission’s target

they had expressed for him to use any means necessary to get this information

which just translated to “seduce them” to kaeya, of course

although he’s had worst clients to seduce, kaeya was sure you’d crack by now

but you haven’t, and it doesn’t help that the chemistry between you two feels too natural for him

because the last thing kaeya needed was to fall head over heals with you

but with the way the moonlight streams down onto your face, it’s getting harder and harder for kaeya to resist the urge to kiss you

On the private balcony, Kaeya and you had the perfect view of the night sky. You gazed at the stars with an appreciative gaze while Kaeya’s eye wandered anywhere but the sky. As you made up constellations in your head, a quiet distraction from the handsome stranger, Kaeya shamelessly stared at you.

He burned the image of you into his head, secretly envying the stars who captured your attention. He memorized the way you held onto yourself, how your hands rubbed up and down your forearms. Kaeya also found it important to remember how the warm air left your parted lips, mesmerized by the white puffs of breath you let out. For the mission, he reasoned.

Although, nothing about the mission needed him to stare at your lovely lips.

Perhaps it was just the moonlight illuminating you, making yourself irresistible to Kaeya. Your lips, so pretty and tempted to him, that make the competent spy lost in the throes of love. They were so tempting that Kaeya really did consider pushing himself off the balcony’s railing and juat kiss you.

But then he chastised himself for being so foolish, almost forgetting his purpose of the evening. So, Kaeya kept reminding himself as he gazed at your lips again. This is for the mission.

“What are you looking at?”

It took Kaeya a moment to realize you had just spoken, which effectively snapped him out of his trance.

“Is there something on my face?” you fretted, grazing your fingertips over your face.

“No, it’s uh— it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Kaeya stuttered out. But then, quick to resume the task at hand, he added, “I just noticed how lovely you look under the moonlight.”

His heart leapt into his throat when you smiled.

“Thank you, Kaeya.”

“No problem, darling.”

You looked back to the moon, your attention so easily stolen from Kaeya. He watched as you shivered, ever so slightly, and moved your hands over your arms even more now.

And, without much thinking, Kaeya unclipped his cape. The sound brought you back to him, although you seem confused. But then you realized what he was doing and quickly stepped aside from him, a poor attempt at dodging Kaeya’s kindness.

“Please, I insist,” Kaeya offered the cape to you, again. “I don’t want you getting cold. Alright, sweetheart?”

You eyed his cape, warily. “But what about you? Won’t you be cold without it?”

“I have plenty of layers on already. I’ll be fine without a few,” he said as he placed the cape over your shoulders. “I think I’d look better without a few layers, don’t you?”

The butterflies in his stomach, which he was not aware of until now, soared as you gave him a once over. He shivered under your gaze as you brought your gaze, ever so painfully slow, to his. Usually, his agency assigned him passive clients that always fell for his charms. However, your level of boldness was somewhat foreign to Kaeya. And, truthfully, Kaeya wasn’t used to this much attention from a client.

But he was far from opposed to it.

He saw you bite your lip once you met his eye after one more once over of Kaeya. Although he should have been thinking about the mission, all thoughts of it were absent from Kaeya’s mind. His heart had began to ram against his chest and his blood pumped in his ears. There was no hope for him now.

Slowly, your hand reached onto Kaeya’s tie and you pulled him close. He was ashamed at the small gasp that slipped from him as you tugged him close to your face. From the tips of his ears to the very center of his nose, it all burned as he was too flustered to think about anything coherent.

Then, you finally answered Kaeya’s question.

“I think I’d have to agree with you, Kaeya,” you whispered dangerously. “Now, let’s go find somewhere more... private to prove this theory of ours.”

song recommendation: Killshot by Magaelena Bay

tartgalia, more commonly known as childe, is known as ruthless assassin

he’s a wonderful asset to his agency, as he’s very skilled in close and long ranged combat

his only draw-back was his unusual enthusiasm to killing targets

which didn’t matter much unless he was placed on seduction missions

when childe was placed on those missions, which was a rare feat on its own, he went to unsettling extremes to protect the target from attacks

safe to say, the agency quickly forbid him from those missions...

these days, childe now spends late evenings and nights on rooftops

he’s laid flat on the roof with a grey beanie shoved forcefully over his fiery orange hair, much to his displeasure

childe will lay there for hours, mostly humming a tune to himself as he awaits a voice on the other line of his communication device

of course, he’ll have enough time to read over the mission’s file

childe will even try to scope the target out, his eyes peeled for their face through the venue’s windows

usually after spotting them, he’ll just keep an eye on them as he awaits for further instructions

now, tonight’s mission was different. as childe was absolutely shocked when he had read over the mission file

because since when did the agency go after targets who were just so perfectly childe’s dream date?

Childe’s eyes skimmed the lines, over and over again. The words didn’t really sink in the first time, not until his third time reading it. But he was still so frantically obsessed with you, who would undoubtedly be perfect for him. Childe tried to read between the lines, going over every meaning of each word typed up. Each detail of you that he was given seemed compatible with him, even if some weren’t even close to his own ideals.

He chuckled, quietly of course, as he poured over each word again. His mother always used to say he needed someone to “keep his head on his shoulders.” It was about time I found you, he thought with a devilish grin.

“Tartaglia,” an impatient voice snapped at him over the intercom, “are you even listening to me? Shit, did his intercom die or something? For f— no, Rosalyne, this is exactly why we don’t have Jared from accounting to prepare mission equipment.”

Nonchalantly, Childe pressed a single finger to his headset as he continued to browse your file like a teenager poured over a magazine. And he twirled a curl of hair, pulled out from beneath that damned beanie, and began to twirl it around his finger.

“Good evening to you too, Scaramouche,” he said calmly.

Childe smiled when he heard his partner fumble over the intercom. “Oh, you mother fu— you’re the worst, y’know that?” Childe could practically see him roll his eyes. “Did you get a chance to look over the mission file yet? You didn’t answer me the first five times.”

“Boy, did I ever.”

“Why are you talking like—” Scaramouche groaned as he connected the dots, “Tartaglia, please don’t tell me you—”

“—found my soulmate and already began planning my wedding?” Childe rolled his eyes as he finally closed your file. “Scara, you always know how to take the words right out of my mouth.”

“You idiot,” Scaramouche all but screeches over the intercom, causing Childe to flinch. “Do you even remember what your job is? You’re literally being sent to eliminate them—”

“Do you think the agency would make an exception? For me?” Childe asks, distracted. “I am their best assassin, after all. Surely I could spare just one target… and take them on a date afterwards, or whatever.” Another groan came from Scaramouche. “What? I’m just sayin’.”

“Do you realize how stupid you sound right now?” Scaramouche sighed. “Who knew you could get so easily love-struck by just a couple of photos and—”

“There’s pictures?” Childe all but screams.

Before he can wait for his partner to continue, he hurls himself to the folder in question. In his love-fueled rush, he had forgotten to check the folder for anything more. He hurriedly grabbed the photos, acting like a starved man, as he caught his first glimpse of you.

If it was possible to fall in love again, Childe did so read then and there. Scaramouche, unfortunately for Childe, heard the ginger’s quick intake of breath as he feasted his eyes on you.

But then Scaramouche’s groaning pulled his attention away again. “Man, Rosalyne is not going to like this.”

“Do you think she’ll allow it?”

“She’s a big softie— of course, she’s going to allow it. But…”

“But, what?”

“I don’t know how Pierro, or even Capitano, would react… much less the Tsaritsa herself,” he murmured.

“Surely I can—”

“Shit, Childe, twelve o’clock,” Scarmouche interrupted. “They’re approaching the open balcony, alone.”

Instinctively, Childe lowered his eye to the telescopic glass as he leveled his gun. Soon, Childe saw your head bob through the crowds and find an escape to the open balcony. Subconsciously, his finger hovered near the rifle’s trigger before he quickly placed it elsewhere. From his perch on the rooftop, he watched you with such intensity that Childe was sure you could feel it from this distance.

“Childe, take the shot.”

He hesitated. “I… I can’t do this.”

“Dude.”

“Do not ‘dude’ me, Scaramouche.” Childe hesitated. Then he added, “Get Rosalyne on. I need to talk with her.”

“Ajax, don’t—”

“Just put Rosalyne on the phone,” he almost seethes, desperate for a life with you— a complete stranger to him if not for a small profile and collection of photos— controlling him entirely now.

Scaramouche sighed, for the final time. “Alright man. It’s your funeral, though.”

Better mine than theirs, Childe thinks as he begins to craft compelling reasons to grant you mercy from his agency.

song recommendation: Feeling Good by Micheal Bublé

zhongli is the agency’s best informant

he’s organized, easy to trust with those charming hazel eyes of his, and incredibly intelligent

and not to mention the total heart-throb of the office

but zhongli is also incredibly professional

if you’re ever in contact with him, expect prim and proper emails, texts, document notes, and even manner of speech

but when zhongli is paired for your missions? that’s all seemingly out the window

he’s sweet and kind towards you, greeting you with a warm smile every time he sees you

and zhongli even brings you your preferred drink to your desk

he says its so you can hydrate and keep yourself alert while writing out your mission report

but truthfully, zhongli just wanted another excuse to see you

especially when you have been going on even more dangerous missions as of late

zhongli really hates seeing you all bruised and battered up

and he practically seethes with hatred at your boss whenever you end up in the hospital after missions

so, he tried to take things into his own hands

just send them on a detour this mission, he told himself, editing the mission document he would give you tomorrow. give them a small vacation, then they can get back on the trail.

however, zhongli didn’t expect his plan to backfire so hard that you end up in the hospital

he hopes that you won’t connect the dots about this mission’s failure— at least until he gets into your hospital room to explain himself

In your injured state, you barely heard the first knock at the door. The doctors had you on so many different medications you could barely keep your eyes open, much less concentrate on your environment. But when you heard the second knock, you turned your head to the door. More so in annoyance than curiosity, as it was proving to be difficult to sleep with that damned knock distracting you.

But you were shocked to see Zhongli’s face in the door. He smiled once your eyes locked with his, but then turned to his right to look at something. After a moment, he nodded and began to open the door to your room.

“— make sure not to cause stress to the patient,” your doctor warned.

“Alright. Thank you,” Zhongli assured, facing the doctor as he closed the door. “We’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Good, because—”

But Zhongli had already shut the door. His shoulders relaxed as he let out a small sigh of relief. He glanced over his shoulder to you, more than relieved that you were all right. But then he was puzzled at what you were looking at, as it had caused your mouth to part.

“Are… are those for me?” you tentatively asked.

Zhongli realized what you meant and looked down. In his right hand was a large bouquet of roses, the colors ranging from deep scarlet reds to pure whites. He felt odd for still holding them, as they were a gift for your recovery, so he began to walk over to you.

“I’ve never gotten flowers before…” you murmur as he places them in your outstretched hands. “Oh, Zhongli… they’re so pretty.”

“Do you like them?” he asked.

You smiled as you clutched them to your chest, “Of course I do.”

Zhongli smiled in return. For a moment, Zhongli stood over you as he admired how you inspected the flowers. But then you returned his gaze, unexpectedly, and he felt shy for the first time in… well, a long time, actually.

He sat on the hospital bed, in a place where you did not occupy. For a moment, he struggled to find the words to express himself. He wanted to say he’s sorry for making you go through hell and back because he wanted to protect you. He wanted to explain why he wanted you to be safe. And he wanted to explain why that is, why he felt like only he could protect you.

But you managed to speak before he did.

“Thanks for visiting me,” you murmured. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“Really?”

You chuckled, “Yeah. I guess I’ve never been the type of person that gets flowers… but thank you.”

Seeing that you were distracted, Zhongli swallowed his guilt and tried to apologize.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he murmured, “something that I should have done—”

“Zhongli,” you carefully set the bouquet on your nightstand. “Can… Can it wait?”

He looked at your tired expression and gave in to it, even if the guilt was eating him alive. “Yes.”

“Thank you. All this medicine has been making me so tired. The doctor said it’s normal, but still…”

”Would you like to be alone?”

“No… no, don’t go,” you reached out for his hand, your movements sluggish when you finally captured his wrist in your grasp. “I still want to talk to you— I just can’t handle big news right now, doctor’s orders. Is it okay if we talk about something else though?”

“Of course,” he assured you, trying to brush off the guilt and hurt. Another time, he told himself.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, “now, how was your day?”

Zhongli looked at you, who was probably on ten different medicines to keep you alive. You, who didn’t look your best after being shoved into hospital scrubs. You, someone he had been loving quietly from afar, who came back from the brink of death and acting so casually about it.

And Zhongli gazed at you with the same love-filled stare he had been giving around the office, during meetings, and whenever he thought you weren’t looking. But you looked so unbelievably happy when he gave you the roses, and even now you looked content just by being in the same room as him. And Zhongli, ever the love-struck fool at heart, decided it would be best to comply with your demands.

“My day was good,” he murmured simply as you already began to drift off.

song recommendation: Do I Wanna Know? By Arctic Monkeys

xiao, a long time rival of yours

he’s also a fellow spy, the best of his agency in fact

you’ve heard that he might as well be a rogue agent at this point, if not for his personal ties with the agency

and you’ve seen him in action before, on your own missions

xiao is quite... merciless towards his enemies

and he’s not much for conversation either. or cooperation, for that matter

and, hilariously enough, both your agency and his keeps assigning you on the same missions with the same targets

which has ended in you two, on multiple occasions, racing to get to the target first

because, for some reason, the rule of “first come, first serve” prevails the most between spy agencies

and xiao isn’t afraid to do anything to win in this competition

he’ll leap terrifying heights and gaps between rooftops, he’ll tear down shelves to trap the target more easily, he’ll do practically anything

it’s almost like he’s actually hunting the target

which wouldn’t be far from the turth, but—

and you’ve always gotten the impression that xiao didn’t care about what happened to you

whether you won or lost the competition, he’d disappear a moment later

that was until he saw you, wounded in your failed attempt at catching your shared target

and suddenly xiao’s goal didn’t seem as important as before

You knew the mission was over as soon as you saw Xiao’s striking yellow eyes.

He called your name tentatively, crouching down to where you were on the ground. Xiao was grateful that he couldn’t see any blood, but he didn’t let it show.

He pushed you into a sitting position, gently cradling you against his chest.

“Xiao?” you murmur, trying to tilt your head up. “When did you get here…?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Xiao muttered as he made you look at him with a hand on your neck. “Does anything hurt?”

You shook your head, or at least tried too. With each passing second, it seems your eyes have been growing heavier and heavier.

“Hey, stay awake,” he tried to say in a calm voice, but his nervousness overrode it. “Hey— hey, no, stay with me c’mon,” Xiao shook you, gently, which seemed to work. “Stay with me, please.”

You furrowed your brow at him. “Why are you—”

“Don’t question it,” he muttered, placing your arm over his shoulder. “Can you stand?”

You nodded, getting up on shaky legs as Xiao shouldered some of your weight. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Xiao glanced at your cheek, as eye contact was proving to be too difficult when you kept looking at him like that. As much as his cheeks warmed at the gaze, he tried to blame that fond gaze you gave him on the potential brain damage.

You two started to walk along the pathway out of the warehouse. The agency will come and get the target, Xiao reassured himself. I’ll send them a memo explaining the sudden—

“Your eyes are pretty,” you blurted out.

Xiao blushed, completely caught off guard. “What?”

“Your eyes are really pretty,” you said with more emphasis, causing Xiao to blush even more. “I never got to see them up close.”

Xiao’s mouth remained separated for a moment. No sound came out except for the crack of his voice, which caused him to look away from you.

You’re a trained spy and assassin, he said to himself, now is not the time to realize your feelings.

“You must have knocked your head on the wall really hard,” Xiao murmured, finally. “But, er, if it means anything to you… your eyes are really nice to look at, too.”

“Really? Then why won’t you look at me?”

As though it was a command and not a simple prompt, Xiao looked at you. His breathing stopped for a moment as he took in your features up close, unknowingly coming back to your lips over and over again. And yet he didn’t seem to notice how you did the same, mouth slightly parted as you drank in the image of Xiao. Each speck of yellow in his eyes, each strand of hair, the way his muscles tensed as he breathes shallowly— all of it, burnt into your memory now.

Xiao blinked and then looked away from you, coming to his own conclusion.

Yeah. Definitely brain damage.

taglist:

@x-zho @cxlrosii

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

651 notes · View notes