#singing with you in the world of fluttering cherry blossoms

[pjsk-story-summaries]

Singing Among the Cherry Blossoms Event Story Summary

TL;DR: While practicing singing, Nene wonders if confidence is currently the thing holding Ichika's signing back. Miku suggests that she does street performances to practice in front of others. She struggles to get her voice out the first time.

On the way back, Ichika runs into Kohane performing Miku songs solo. She admires Kohane's confidence and skill, being so new to music. Ichika wants to sing like that for Shiho's dream of resonating with others and going pro, but feels she'll never get there. Kohane reassures her that she felt the same, but her teammates believing in her helped her get over that fear.

Ichika continues to practice street performances, slowly getting better and better. Her bandmates notice a significant improvement in her skill.

After a particularly successful session, Ichika goes to watch the cherry blossoms and reminisce about her friends. She decides to grab Miku from SEKAI to sing a song of thanks after all she's done to reconnect them.

Minori and Kohane end up running into Ichika singing in the park, so they ask to join. The three girls become friends. Kanade, who had just run into Tsukasa briefly, also overhears the group singing.

Fan translation (ちぜChize) / Official English YouTube Upload

Chapter 1: Ichika and Nene meet in the park to practice singing. Nene wonders if confidence is what is currently holding Ichika back. It had held Nene back before, but by remembering why she loves to sing, she was able to regain it. She doesn't want Ichika to dwell on that, though.

During rehersal, Leo/need praises the improvement in Ichika's voice. However, Ichika still feels like she has a long way to go before she can truly touch others with her music, like Shiho wants to.

Chapter 2: Ichika asks Miku for advice on confidence. Miku suggests trying to sing in public with street performances. The next day, Ichika goes by herself to play on Main Street. She can't manage to get her voice out. Nobody stops to listen, so she leaves.

Chapter 3: On the way home, Ichika runs into Kohane performing a Miku song by herself on the street. Once the song is over, Ichika goes to speak with her. She's surprised to learn Kohane is so new in music. Kohane tells her about her group's dream to surpass a legendary show. Kohane asks if Ichika wants to go pro with her band, but Ichika doubts she'd ever be that good. Still, she wants to help Shiho's dream come true. She's too nervous to sing properly in public, however. Kohane reassures her that she'd felt the same at first, but because her teammates believed in her, she was able to overcome it.

Chapter 4: Ichika goes to the street to try again. She manages to get her voice out, but when people start listening, she can't stop shaking. Still, she manages to reach the end of the song. The listeners enjoyed it.

Leo/need immediately notice the change in Ichika's singing. Miku and her decide to keep the street shows their little secret. Shiho thinks Ichika might be ready to go on stage.

Chapter 5: Ichika continues to perform on the streets, slowly gaining more confidence and crowds. Some even ask for encores.

On the way back, Ichika stops in the park to watch the cherry blossoms and reminisce on old memories. She's happy Miku's music managed to bring the four of them back together.

Chapter 6: Luka and MEIKO go praise Miku for being such a good senpai to Ichika recently. Miku's surprised yet honored, since she believes MEIKO and Luka to be far better mentors. They tell her that there's no true perfect mentor, and that everyone can help others in their own ways. MEIKO and Luka leave once Ichika arrives in SEKAI. There, she thanks Miku for all the help and asks if she'd come to the real world to listen to a song.

Chapter 7: Ichika shows Miku the cherry blossom trees. She thanks Miku for all the help she's given the band and plays a Miku song for her. While listening, Miku reminisces on the growth of Leo/need since they first arrived in SEKAI.

Chapter 8: Kohane and Minori end up running into Ichika, so Miku hides. They ask if they can sing with Ichika.

Kanade, who was returning from the hospital, gets run into by Tsukasa sprinting through the streets after nearly missing a meeting. She found the encounter strange. She also overhears the three girls singing Miku songs in the park, pleased by the tune.

Minori and Kohane ask Ichika to call them by their first names. Ichika asks the same. They decide to keep singing Miku songs together. Ichika briefly notices Kanade watching. Minori and Kohane leave soon after. Ichika thanks Miku for helping her make even more friends.

[kanzakiaizen]

OLD SCHOOL LOVE - GOJO SATORU X FEM! READER

A/N: I really really love old school romance like we need those back 😭🤍

Warnings: angst, fluff, dramatic rain scene, comfort, 2006 high school era, gojo being ooc, might seem cringe or cheesy but I tried my best 😭

In the heart of Tokyo, in the early 2006s, there was a high school nestled between bustling streets and serene temples. The school, with its old brick buildings and cherry blossom trees, was a world unto itself, where young dreams and hopes flourished.

Satoru Gojo was a quiet, introspective student who spent most of his time in the library, lost in books and music. He had an old Walkman that he carried everywhere, playing mixtapes he'd carefully crafted from late-night radio shows. His passion for music was well-known among his classmates, but few knew the depth of his feelings for a certain someone.

Y/n was the school's spirited and kind-hearted student council president. Her laugh was infectious, and she had a way of making everyone feel included. She excelled in her studies and was always busy with school activities, but her favorite pastime was painting. She often sketched scenes of the city, capturing its beauty on her canvases.

Their paths seldom crossed, despite being in the same class. Satoru admired y/n from afar, too shy to approach her. His friends teased him, calling it an unrequited crush, but he cherished the small moments—her smile when she greeted him in the hallway, the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought.

One crisp autumn day, the school announced a talent show. Students buzzed with excitement, eager to showcase their talents. Y/n decided to participate, choosing to paint a large mural representing the unity and spirit of their school. Satoru, encouraged by his friends, signed up to perform a song he'd written, a heartfelt melody inspired by his unspoken feelings.

The weeks leading up to the talent show were a whirlwind of activity. Y/n spent her afternoons in the art room, her hands covered in paint, her eyes sparkling with creativity. Satoru practiced his song in the music room, pouring his heart into every note, hoping to convey his emotions through the lyrics.

On the night of the talent show, the school auditorium was filled with students, teachers, and proud parents. The air was electric with anticipation.

Y/n's mural was revealed first, a breathtaking masterpiece that brought tears to many eyes. The audience erupted in applause, and Y/n's smile was radiant.

Then it was satoru's turn. He stepped onto the stage, his heart pounding. As he strummed his guitar and began to sing, the room fell silent. His voice was filled with raw emotion, and the lyrics spoke of a love that was pure and enduring. Y/n, standing in the wings, felt a strange sense of recognition.

When Satoru finished, the audience gave him a standing ovation. Y/n approached him backstage, her eyes shining. "Your song... it was beautiful," she said softly.

Satoru blushed, looking down. "Thank you. It was inspired by someone special."

Y/n's heart fluttered. "Really? Who?"

Taking a deep breath, met her gaze. "You."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, then softened with understanding. "Satoru, I had no idea..."

He smiled shyly. "I've admired you for so long, but I was too afraid to tell you."

Y/n reached out and took his hand. "I'm glad you did. Your song was the most beautiful confession I've ever heard."

From that night on, satoru and y/n's bond grew stronger. They spent their days together, discovering shared interests and supporting each other's dreams.

The weeks following the talent show had been a whirlwind for Satoru & y/n. Their relationship blossomed, and they became inseparable, sharing their dreams and insecurities, their laughter and tears. Yet, as the pressures of school and personal obligations mounted, so did the strain on their young love.

Satoru had always struggled with his studies, and the looming college entrance exams filled him with dread. His parents, strict and traditional, expected nothing less than excellence, and he felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. Meanwhile, y/n, with her myriad responsibilities as student council president and her own academic pressures, found herself stretched thin. Despite their deep feelings for each other, their time together became sporadic, their conversations often tinged with frustration.

One gray afternoon, as storm clouds gathered over Tokyo, Satoru and y/n found themselves in the middle of a heated argument. They stood in the courtyard, their voices rising above the din of the approaching storm.

"You're never around anymore, y/n!" Satoru exclaimed, his voice raw with emotion. "It's like you have time for everyone else but me."

y/n's eyes flashed with anger. "That's not fair, Satoru. I'm doing my best. I have so many responsibilities, and I'm trying to balance everything."

"But where do I fit into all of this?" Satoru demanded, his heart aching. "Sometimes I feel like I'm just another obligation to you."

The first raindrops began to fall, mingling with the tears on y/n's cheeks. "You're not an obligation, Satoru. You're the person I care about most. But it's so hard... trying to be everything for everyone."

As the rain intensified, their argument reached a fever pitch, their words lost in the downpour. Satoru turned away, running a hand through his drenched hair. "Maybe we're just too different," he muttered, the pain in his voice unmistakable.

y/n stepped closer, her own tears mixing with the rain. "Satoru, don't say that. We can make this work. We just need to try harder."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and despair. "I don't know if I can, y/n. I'm scared of losing you, but I'm also scared of losing myself in the process."

The rain fell harder, drenching them both, but neither moved. They stood facing each other, the storm reflecting the turmoil in their hearts. Then, in a moment of vulnerability, y/n reached out and took Satoru's hand.

"Satoru, I love you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain. "I don't want to lose you. Let's not give up on us."

Satoru felt his resolve waver as he looked into her eyes. Despite the storm, despite the chaos around them, he saw the sincerity in her gaze. Slowly, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as the rain poured down.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. "I don't want to lose you either. We'll find a way, together."

y/n nodded against his chest, her arms wrapped around him. "Together," she echoed.

In that rain-soaked courtyard, amidst the storm and their shared fears, Satoru and y/n found a renewed sense of hope. They knew the road ahead would be difficult, but they also knew they were stronger together. As they kissed, the rain washing away their tears, they made a silent promise to each other—to fight for their love, no matter the odds.

[poems-or-whatever]

escapril, day 2: eavesdrop

in the park, in the spring, when the breeze makes the cherry blossoms whisper, and blades of grass lean closer to listen, i am listening too.

not to the quiet flower musings, or the birds that sing of their winter travels, but to the city, the world, alive again, the choir of voices creating a cacophony of sound.

there’s a couple sitting on a weathered bench, the time-worn wood as much a story as the ones held in their hands, the pages finger-licked and dog-eared. the stance of their bodies has a language all its own: him, slouched against her, their arms looped together, almost as an afterthought, it feels lived-in; a comfortable intimacy that tells of so many sundays spent just like this. he tips his head back, his mouth lifted towards the slope of her ear, and points to a line in the book, and i can’t hear what he says, but she reads, and she smiles, and then i think, what a luxury, what an unimaginable gift, to be known, so wholly, without pause, that a few words remind someone of you, make them stop and say, “read this,” make them stop and want to invite you in.

there’s a little girl picking tulips, leaves tucked in, not ready to be plucked from the earth, tension in the blush of their near-blooms. but her giggle - a flower all its own - spreads roots across the park, smiles cropping up on the faces of strangers as they pass. her hands, small and gentle, clasp a full bouquet, the season’s offering, and as she runs, with the clumsy gait of childhood, petals flutter, one by one, over and over, back to the safety of the soil. her feet catch on the edge of that park bench, and she falls too, without the grace or subtlety of flower petals, and her cries, high-pitched, terrified, sound before there’s a scrape. i didn’t notice her mother, but then suddenly she’s there, because of course she is, because she always was, just a breath away; reveling in the girl’s joy, anticipating her pain. the mother gathers her daughter close, the flowers crushed against her chest, and whispers, over and over, you’re safe, you’re alright, it’ll be okay. show me where it hurts. and i think, what a miracle, what an incomparable feeling, to believe, so completely, without question, that you’re safe, you’re alright, it’ll be okay. to believe, deep in your bones, that there will always be someone there to kiss away the hurt.

there’s a man, flanked by two unwieldy terriers, making phone call after phone call on a flip phone he’s had for decades. he pulls out a cigarette and lets it hang between his lips, his voice rough, layered like the gravel beneath his boots, a contrast to the tender rhythm of his words. i don’t know who is on the other line, but there are clues, a road map of possibilities littered with little red stars, laid out in the the familiarity of this back and forth, the easy lulls and the huff of laughter and the remember whens, stories that have been told again and again, loved in the way only memories can be loved, a partner, or a child, or a grandchild, a friend who has been listening on the other end of that line for decades. and i think, what a wonder, what a precious thing, to love and be loved, so widely, so unconditionally, to find a home in someone else; to be awarded the gift of years.

in the park, in the spring, or the winter, or the summer, or the fall, when the universe quiets and leans in closer, catching each story of life on the tail end of a breeze, i am listening too.

[mirrorspeak]

escapril, day 2: eavesdrop

in the park, in the spring,  when the breeze makes the cherry blossoms whisper, and blades of grass lean closer to listen, i am listening too.

not to the quiet flower musings, or the birds that sing of their winter travels, but to the city, the world, alive again, the choir of voices creating a cacophony of sound.

there’s a couple sitting on a weathered bench, the time-worn wood as much a story as the ones held in their hands, the pages finger-licked and dog-eared. the stance of their bodies has a language all its own: him, slouched against her, their arms looped together, almost as an afterthought, it feels lived-in; a comfortable intimacy that tells of so many sundays spent just like this. he tips his head back, his mouth lifted towards the slope of her ear, and points to a line in the book, and i can’t hear what he says, but she reads, and she smiles, and then i think, what a luxury, what an unimaginable gift, to be known, so wholly, without pause, that a few words remind someone of you, make them stop and say, “read this,” make them stop and want to invite you in.

there’s a little girl picking tulips, leaves tucked in, not ready to be plucked from the earth, tension in the blush of their near-blooms. but her giggle - a flower all its own - spreads roots across the park, smiles cropping up on the faces of strangers as they pass. her hands, small and gentle, clasp a full bouquet, the season’s offering, and as she runs, with the clumsy gait of childhood, petals flutter, one by one, over and over, back to the safety of the soil. her feet catch on the edge of that park bench, and she falls too, without the grace or subtlety of flower petals, and her cries, high-pitched, terrified, sound before there’s a scrape. i didn’t notice her mother, but then suddenly she’s there, because of course she is, because she always was, just a breath away; reveling in the girl’s joy, anticipating her pain. the mother gathers her daughter close, the flowers crushed against her chest, and whispers, over and over, you’re safe, you’re alright, it’ll be okay. show me where it hurts. and i think, what a miracle, what an incomparable feeling, to believe, so completely, without question, that you’re safe, you’re alright, it’ll be okay. to believe, deep in your bones, that there will always be someone there to kiss away the hurt.

there’s a man, flanked by two unwieldy terriers, making phone call after phone call on a flip phone he’s had for decades. he pulls out a cigarette and lets it hang between his lips, his voice rough, layered like the gravel beneath his boots, a contrast to the tender rhythm of his words. i don’t know who is on the other line, but there are clues, a road map of possibilities littered with little red stars, laid out in the the familiarity of this back and forth, the easy lulls and the huff of laughter and the remember whens, stories that have been told again and again, loved in the way only memories can be loved, a partner, or a child, or a grandchild, a friend who has been listening on the other end of that line for decades. and i think, what a wonder, what a precious thing, to love and be loved, so widely, so unconditionally, to find a home in someone else; to be awarded the gift of years.

in the park, in the spring, or the winter, or the summer, or the fall, when the universe quiets and leans in closer, catching each story of life on the tail end of a breeze, i am listening too.

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

Imagine: Wanda calls you her precious flower.

*Not my GIF.

CW: Body horror, mind wipe?, small amount of mind control

miláčik = darling.

moja vzácna kvetina = my precious flower

môj sladký anjel = my sweet angel

Delicate, sweet, pure, angelic, precious, innocent.

Those are the words that Wanda Maximoff uses to describe you. You have such an innocent and shy demeanor. Your quiet presence only makes you stand out to her. You’re so easily startled by the littlest sudden sounds, and the littlest things make you cry; seeing a cute puppy while you’re out on a walk, watching animals and favorite characters die in movies, little surprises, whenever the Avengers get into tense fights. Whenever an Avenger comes back injured, you’re always first to their side to see if they’re okay. Whenever they’re sad, you timidly go up to them and hug them. Sometimes you’ll go and cuddle them when they look upset. You apologize to inanimate objects when you accidentally bump into them. Sometimes you’ll apologize for things when you think they’re your fault, even when they aren’t. This sweet, affectionate, and soft-hearted nature of yours only makes Wanda’s heart melt even more. 

When you two begin dating, Wanda calls you her precious flower. She loves it when you were pastels and floral colors. She loves seeing you blush the color of a rose, flower crowns in your hair, and that precious little smile on your face. She loves to hear that sweet laugh of yours; it’s as clear and as musical as a bluebell if it could ring. Those wide innocent eyes of yours, opening up like blossoming daisies. Your very existence just brings so much light and love into her life, something that she’s needed for so long.

You’re just.....so precious to her...

So smol. 

So sweet. 

So adorable. 

She can’t let you lose that angelic personality to the jaded world.

Something has to be done.

============================================

One day, Wanda suggests that you two go to the park for a picnic date. It’s a lovely spring day, not too windy and not too hot, so you agree. She takes you to a spot that’s a favorite for you two; she lays the blanket out underneath a cherry blossom tree at the top of a small hill. Wanda tells you that she’s made some rose blossom tea and asks if you wish to try it; you taste one cup, but then you ask for more. The fragrance is amazing, and the taste is just as lovely, if not better. The petals from the tree above you are beginning to fall, so that after you finish eating and have your head on Wanda’s lap, a cherry blossom petal falls perfectly on your nose, startling you slightly. This makes Wanda giggle.

“Nature just gravitates towards you, (y/n),” Wanda smiles as she strokes your hair. “Especially flowers.”

Nodding you cuddle up closer, feeling slightly tired.

“Can we make flower crowns while we’re here?” you mumble sleepily. 

“Of course we can, miláčik.”

It always makes you smile when she calls you pet names in Sokovian. The sound is just so.....soothing. Some may find it harsh, but not you. While your head rests upon Wanda’s lap, she softly sings Sokovian lullabies to you, gently bringing you into a soothing trance of sorts. Wanda looks down and notices that you’re drifting off. She pulls out another blanket and places it on you.

“Sweet dreams,” she whispers as she gives you a butterfly’s kiss. 

“Moja vzácna kvetina.....”

=============================================

Your eyes flutter open like a butterfly’s wings, but you see that you’re no longer at the park. Instead you see polished wood and a mobile of butterflies, and in between is a crystalline glass, the faint light from a small nearby window dancing upon it gently. Your hand brushes the floor, and your find that the material is soft, almost like being in a coffin. You feel a breeze inside of it as well. Not only that, but your clothing feels different. It’s silky. Pulling the fabric up to your eye’s view, you see yourself dressed in pure white.

You try to sit up, but gasp and cry out when your head hits glass.

“Ouch! Wha...what the?”

“Oh, my precious flower.....”

A sigh from the right makes your hair stand on end. You look to see your girlfriend lying on her front on a mattress, staring at you in adoration, a dreamy smile on her face. Behind her looks to be a bedroom themed around a faerie garden of sorts; you’re not sure, as it’s difficult to tell through the white-veiled canopy she has drawn.

“Wha...what’s going on?” you ask terrified.

Wanda opens the casing and gently cups your cheek, stroking it with her thumb.

“You’re blossoming so beautifully, (y/n),” she sighs. “It took weeks to get just the right positioning for the seeds in your head to make a perfect crown. But it was all worth it. I did it all for you....”

You reach up to your head and gasp to find that, indeed, there’s a flower crown on it. You try to take it off, but Wanda stops you.

“Oh, no, no, no, miláčik,” she gasps, gently bringing your hand down. “Those flowers took so long to grow. I had to make sure the petals would accentuate your hair just right.”

Suddenly, you also feel her finger moving up and down your arms slowly. 

“And the blossoms here are so precious....just like you.”

You look down to see flowers, spiraling down to your wrists which has a bigger flower at the end, almost like corsages. You try to pull at one as discreetly as possible, but when you tug at it, you feel a sensation in your arm, as if it’s connected to your nerves. And then a horrible realization hits you.

“Are....are these flowers....?”

“How else are they going to be nourished?” she asks innocently, tilting her head.

Your heart is beating wildly.

“H-how long have I been asleep?” you whimper.

Wanda taps the tip of her finger just above her upper lip as she thinks back, her eyes glancing up at the ceiling.

“I suppose our picnic date was about.....six weeks ago perhaps?”

You begin to panic even more. You don’t know what’s happened to your girlfriend, but you know she’s gone insane. In a desperate attempt to escape, you try to slide out of the casing, but a wisp of scarlet surrounds you and your mind goes blank for a second. When you come to, you find that you’re back inside.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n),” she sighs. “But I simply can’t have my precious flower wandering around in this cruel, cruel world. That’s why I’ve brought you here; it’s somewhere no one will ever find us, somewhere not on a map, or even in the same universe.”

“W-Wanda....what did you do to me?” you tremble.

“I’ve always called you my precious flower, because you are a precious flower,” she replies as she strokes your cheek. “You have such a soft-hearted and sweet nature, such a delicate nature, just like a flower. But the world is cruel to flowers, and these flowers must be protected and loved. So I figured; why not? And thanks to the spells I’ve placed on us, there’s no need to worry about death, as long as you stay here; there’s no need for eating, drinking, aging, anything of the sort. Except for sleep; you always look so sweet when you’re asleep that I just couldn’t give that up. All you’ll need to be fulfilled is sleep and my love, but especially my love. That’s another reason that I can’t let you leave; without my love, you’d wilt away and die....and that thought makes my heart hurt.

“Those flowers recycle your blood as nutrients, and they do it very quickly. So even if the petals are flattened when we cuddle, they’ll return to their former state. When we’re not cuddling, you’ll be in here where I can watch you, keep you safe, adore you, love you.....”

“Bu....but what about when the spells wear off?” you tremble.

She giggles.

“Oh there’s no need to worry about that, miláčik. The spells will never wear off. I’ve made certain of it.”

That’s when you realize.....Wanda’s magic is extremely powerful. She’s been exposed to a freaking Infinity Stone. And lived. If anyone’s figured out a way around her magic, they’re keeping it to themselves, and that means you’re stuck like this forever. Now the tears begin to fall down your face. Wanda’s smile drops as she opens the glass casing fully, and brings you into her embrace.

“Oh, please don’t cry, môj sladký anjel,” she says sadly, kissing you and stroking your hair gently. “I promise it will be wonderful. You’ll have everything you need right here; a soft bed, complete safety, and someone who absolutely adores you beyond all comprehension. You can still eat and drink; it’s just not required, but it will give those flowers extra nutrients and make them more vibrant. If you ever get claustrophobic, I can always open the casing so that you can sleep next to me instead. And if you ever get bored, I can always conjure up things for you; a puppy, coloring books, butterflies, storybooks, we can even watch sitcoms together, or we can explore all sorts of dream worlds together with my magic.”

“But....but what about my family? My friends?” you whimper.

“You don’t need them, miláčik. The only person you’ll ever need from now on is me.”

“I....I want to be with them...” you cry, struggling against her embrace. “This is wrong....this is all wrong! I don’t want to be here! I want to go home! Let me go! LET ME GO!”

You’re in full panic mode. All of this is wrong. This isn’t the Wanda you know. This is a Wanda who’s stuck in some sort of delusion. You need to get help, for yourself and for her!

Wanda tries to calm you down, but you’re persistent. Tears fall down her face as she realizes what she has to do.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

With a scarlet wisp surrounding you, all memories of your family and friends fade far into your subconscious. Wanda wouldn’t dare erase them completely, she could never bring herself to. She brings the happy memories of you and her to the front of your mind, along with a few small suggestions....

....and you soon calm down completely.

You settle into her embrace, a sweet smile on your face, your thoughts filled with nothing but love for your girlfriend, now and forever. Stroking your hair, Wanda leans in close and gives you a soft kiss before whispering into your ear.

“This world doesn’t deserve an angel like you, sweet (y/n). You have such a pure soul-you are a pure soul-and the world outside will only hurt you. Sweet and innocent people, especially at your age, are very rare. They’re like diamonds; real diamonds. They’re extremely difficult to find, but once you do, they’re a treasure that needs to be protected. I want to be that for you. I want to protect you, keep you safe, love you, care for you. Stay with me, please.”

You nod.

“Of course I will, Wanda,” you sigh happily, leaning in close. “No one else makes me feel as loved as you do, sweetheart....”

She gives a small smile and begins to softly sing Sokovian lullabies to you. Your eyelids begin to flutter like a butterfly’s wings. As you drift off to sleep, you think about how you feel so safe and loved here, in the arms of your beloved girlfriend. You know you’re delicate, far too delicate. The world outside will only break you. But not here. Not with Wanda. She knows how to best keep you safe. She knows how to best make you feel loved. And it’s as she said; her spells are keeping you both from aging and dying, meaning that you two can spend all of eternity in each other’s arms. 

Yes.....everything is as it should be.

You don’t need anything else.

You don’t want anything else.

You don’t want anyone else.

All you want is right here.

“Sweet dreams, moja vzácna kvetina.....”

[jiyafm]

 ✿ * · (  megan  suri  ,  cis  female  ,  she / her   )   a  little  birdy  told  me  JIYA  DHAWAN  just  moved  to  sunset  hills  .  have  you  met  them  yet  ? they  look  somewhere  around  TWENTY - ONE ,   if  i  had  to  guess  !  pretty  sure  i  heard  them  driving  down  the  street  playing  TONGUE  TIED  by  GROUPLOVE  ,  they  sounded  a  little  pitchy  but  they  had  the  spirit  !  must  be  their  favorite  or  something  .  hey  …  it  looks  like  they  just  moved  into  MIDNIGHT  PARK  .  have  you  heard  about  what  they  do  for  a  living  ?  someone  told  me  they’re  a  ILLUSTRATION  &  ANIMATION  MAJOR  ,  but  who  knows  if  that’s  even  true  .  guess  we’re  just  gonna  have  to  wait  and  see  .  nervous  ?  maybe  you  should  be  .  sunset  speaks  just  posted  about  them  …  apparently  they're  RESIDENT  ID  #021  ?  between  you  and  me  ,  i  think  that  might  spark  some  things  in  the  community  …  but  what  do  i  know  !  you  guys  might  get  along  just  fine  !

bienvenidos to my intro, cutie patooties! i’m mars (she/they/any) and i can’t wait to plot & write with everyone here! it’s been a very hot sec since i’ve been in a group, but i am for sure already falling in love with all of your characters. without further ado, will you please welcome to the stage... jiya!

BASICS

full name:  jiya  farah  dhawan

gender:  cis  woman

pronouns:  she / her

sexuality:  bisexual

age:  twenty - one

birthday:  march  4th,  2001

zodiac:  pisces  sun,  cancer  moon,  leo  rising

hometown:  sunset  hills,  ca

residence:  midnight  park

major:  illustration  &  animation

tldr;  jiya  is  the  only  child  of  two  s.h.u.  professors  and  has  always  loved  the  school,  but   0% knows  what  she’s  going  to  do  after  she  graduates.  you’ll  never  meet  anyone  with  more  school  spirit  than  her.  she’s  just  stoked  to  be  here,  guys.  continually  doing  double  duty  as  the  friend  group’s  weirdo  and  mom  friend.

AESTHETICS

the roar of good friends when the lights flick on at a surprise party, cherry blossom petals fluttering through the spring breeze, the buzz of getting too excited about something nobody else cares about, a slice of perfect lemon cake paired with a perfect cup of chai, giggles that turn into snorts halfway through, loudly singing a well-loved song around a crowded campfire, first kisses with red noses in gently falling snow

BIOGRAPHY

jiya was born on march 4th (”the only day of the year that’s a complete sentence!”), 2001 at 3pm, gracing dr. tanvi patel and dr. imraan dhawan with their first and only child. both drs. were – and still are – proudly professors at sunset hills university, home of the manta rays. go rays!

growing up under two academics – her mother in agricultural studies specializing in sustainability and her father in world literature with a focus in poetry – was a challenge. a challenge jiya accepted with the same determination with which she lived her entire life.

there were plenty of good things to combat the stress of her parents’ expectations for her academic success. dressing up for their university dinner parties, where they had brilliant conversations unlike anything else she’d ever seen; where everyone begged her to follow her dreams.

at the end of the day, that was the thing she took from her parents and their friends most seriously. they had all achieved so many of their dreams, what could possibly hold jiya back from doing the same? that ambition lit a fire under her that couldn’t be put out.

it didn’t matter what happened. through her first breakups, bad news from her family, hard times at school, she never stopped going going going. art club, soccer, drama, piano lessons, summer camp... if there was something she wanted, she went for it.

despite how much of her life revolved around it (or maybe because of it), going to s.h.u. was the thing jiya worked hardest for. there was no way she was letting anyone think she got in because of her parents (even though she almost certainly did). all she wanted was to be a manta ray.

to absolutely no one’s surprise, jiya was the most enthusiastic freshman s.h.u. had seen in... maybe ever. no matter the sport being played, the play being put on, or the boredom at risk from going, jiya would be there with bells on; literal bells.

she generally lives by the motto “my studies can wait, what’s going on tonight?” it might not be her parents’ favorite philosophy, but she does have the record for most games attended by a single student and they are proud of that achievement. 

now that she’s more than halfway through her degree, people are starting to ask what she has planned for afterward. unrelated, she’s starting to realize she’s going to have to figure out who she wants to be outside of her love of sunset hills. or what she wants to do. pixar, maybe? illustrating children’s books, maybe? animating her own show, maybe? how are people supposed to figure this stuff out?

PERSONALITY

jiya is absolutely the self - appointed spirit master of sunset hills. she shows up to every game (for every sport) she can, completely decked out in face paint, pom-poms, and an outfit sure to inspire any manta ray to feel that good school pride. she may have a love / hate relationship with the person in the school mascot costume for unknown and probably stupid entirely justifiable reasons.

she is maximalist to the core and could not handle minimalism if she was paid to. everything in her room is done up to the nines with endless color, texture, lights, ambient white noise; the whole lot. her dorm looks like a macramé arts and crafts class blew up inside.

one thing jiya doesn’t take well is rejection. the last time she was broken up with, she threw all of the clothes her ex had left at her place out the window and announced it was “the defenestration of sunset hills”. she really is such a sweet girl, but that fear of rejection runs deep.

WANTED

roommate  –  babe is living in midnight park and i would love for her to have a roommate! she is probably the best and worst roommate you’ll ever have. there are baked goods and dumb jokes and themed drinking game movie nights... and 4am dance breaks when she’s procrastinated an important essay and has to finish by 8am.

study buddies  –  speaking of baked goods and essays! jiya definitely organized a study group her freshman year and still brings them muffins every wednesday for their standing study date. and it’s not at all because i love community or legally blonde. nope.

trivia team  –  a classic group of friends who show up to their favorite bar for trivia night every week. are they really just there for the bar snacks, drinks, and company? almost definitely. do they still take things a little too seriously and get overly competitive? ...also almost definitely.

tutoring friends  –  there are a handful of subjects jiya could tutor somebody in and another handle of subjects she could use some tutoring in, so it could go either way! or maybe their strengths and weaknesses line up and they help each other out? somebody’s gotta keep her on track!

high school sweetheart  –  jiya grew up in sunset hills and there’s no doubt in my mind she had a very sweet high school romance. she definitely would’ve been the cheerleader type that (unsurprisingly) showed up to all of their games or band’s practices or academic decathlons.

[dabisqueen]

REDEMPTION PT.1

Ok so bear with me. I am not a native English speaker and I am just writing for fun. I dont make money off of this. Just my brain sh** written down in words, including typos. I am not a Hemingway and there are bad sentences, even logical mistakes. Sorry, not sorry. It’s my story.

PS: this is a spin-off from my first story

Shōto x Reader, Dabi x Reader (brother's rivalry)

Pt. 1 of 6

Word Count: roughly 2.5K

Synopsis: You are quirkless, nevertheless Shōto Todoroki falls in love with you. And you for him. That is, until Dabi steps between you both

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst, hurt but also a lot of comfort, bondage, some physical abuse, alcohol abuse, smoking, sexual assault, some violence, noncon, unprotected sex (pls be smarter in real life and protect), oral sex, creampie, roughish sex, kidnapping, quirk use, yandere behavior, mildly toxic relationship, pregnancy (oops, spoiler alert!)

I’m terrible at trigger warnings (TWs) so please let me know if I should add some or mine are inaccurate

>> MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! <<

Pt. 2

________________________________

In a world full of quirks and heroes I was one of the few not bestowed with any kind of gift. I worked at a small local flower shop after I graduated from high school. My apartment was located in a mediocre residential complex, nothing special, merely consisting of one room with a bed and a cooking nock. But I was able to afford it and loved it. It was located on the second floor and had a cute little balcony. Watching the sunset, sipping a glass of wine while enjoying the sweet scent of the flowers and plants surrounding me was my favourite way of enjoying the evening.

I wasn't exactly the quiet type of girl, but I liked keeping to myself. When others partied on Saturday, I found myself strolling along the river banks of the town, appreciating the serenity of the quiet evening, birds singing their evening serenade. My friends were few but the ones I had stuck to me like glue. I have had a few boyfriends, but nothing particularly steady, they just never gave me what I was searching for.

It was a beautiful morning in May and looking out the window I saw the cherry blossoms in the distance smiling at me. The weather proved to be intoxicating and warm, so after getting off work I decided to attend the Hanami festival.

The gravel road was covered with cherry blossoms, the green foliage shone in the evening sun's loving light as I mingled with the crowd, taking in the cherry forest's sweet smell. Strolling underneath the trees, a mild breeze suddenly blew and made the light pink petals fall round me like wintery snow. I closed my eyes for a second, enjoying the feeling of the pink snowflakes fluttering across my face, the fragrant incense almost numbing my mind when I suddenly bumped into someone and lost my balance. I squealed and was about to fall when two strong arms caught me mid air.

My gaze went up to meet a pair of heterochromatic eyes, one turquoise and one grey. Bicolored hair swaying slightly with the wind, the evening light reflecting in it as my rescuer asked with a shy smile if I was ok. My lips opened and closed, struggling for words as he helped me up, chuckling.

“Are you by yourself?” I nodded shyly.

Cocking his head, he took in my sight and asked with hopeful eyes “Want to join me?” He nudged his chin indicating the direction he was heading in and I gladly accepted.

All around us people were drinking sake or tea and eating their home-cooked meals to mark the occasion. We wound our way through the crowd, subconsciously seeking out a more quiet area of the park. We enjoyed ourselves, talking and laughing a lot, while we strolled through the crowd.

I learned that his name was Shōto and he had just graduated from U.A. academy, working at his dad's office. As the night slowly descended upon us, lamps started to illuminate the park with warm light. We finally arrived at an old cherry tree, overlooking a small creek flowing by. The colorful blossoms painted the water with their petals as we stood there and enjoyed the silence around us. He picked up a cluster of pink and white flowers that had fallen onto the soft gras and gently tugged it behind my ear. Before I knew it, our fingers gently wrapped around each other, as he gazed into my eyes and raised a hand to lift my chin. Lost in the sensation of his soft lips latching onto mine I sighed, our delicate kiss quickly descending into passion, with little regard for what was going on around us.

The following weeks, whenever his work allowed it, we saw each other, spending hours talking about us, our past. When he mentioned that Endeavor was his father, I almost choked on my drink, spilling it everywhere.

"What the…" I snorted, "Endeavor, for real?!"

"Not proud of it, but, uhm yeah," we both laughed, as I tried cleaning up my mess.

"Why not?" I tilted my head and he told me about the reason for his scar, why his mom got so angry. My hand gently reached out to his face, soft fingers caressing his burn scar, while he never let his eyes off me. I leaned forward to kiss his scarred skin, so in love with him, his past, his suffering and his strength. I was completely overwhelmed by the love for this man.

One evening he showed me pictures of his family on his phone - his mom Rei, sister Fuyumi and brother Natsuo. As we went through the photographs I noticed another young man in the older family pictures, white hair, same cerulean eyes as Shōto and pointed it out. A sadness in his voice took over as he recounted his memories about his eldest brother Tōya, who had disappeared, probably died when Shōto was still young. We comforted each other as I told him about my tragic past, losing both parents in a villain attack a few years ago. There was a special bond between us, made of love and sorrow, that no one else shared with us. It was comforting, knowing him around, the way he held my waist while we were kissing, the way his mesmerizingly beautiful eyes gazed into mine. I felt at home with him, nothing ever could get between us, we knew we had found each other.

________________________________

It had been a long week, people celebrating the blooming summer with buying floral arrangements. I had been busy in the store handling all the requests pouring in, as our flowers were well known for their freshness and good quality. Shōto got slammed with a tight schedule, rotating unusual patrol hours and working late into the night in the office.

We were fighting to find time to spend together as we both worked relentlessly, so it was not until Saturday that we met again. It was our first time spending the night together and my heart started pounding at the thought of it. I heard a soft knock on my door and jumped up, opened the door and threw my arms around Shōto's neck. He dropped his bag, lifted me up and twirled me around, his soft laughter filling my room as he nestled his head in my neck.

“Missed you,” a low moan escaped him as our lips met and I breathed into his kiss "Me too."

I had prepared his favourite, Soba noodles. His bicolored eyes didn't stop looking at me longingly, following my every movement. The tension was hot in the air after we finished eating dinner. While I rinsed off the dishes, I felt Shōto’s touch on my body - his large hand holding my waist tenderly as he bent down, kissing the nape of my neck while his crotch pressed against me from behind.

"Are you ready for tonight?" he rasped into my ear, hot breath brushing my skin and making me shiver with pleasure, “I want you, all of you.”

My skin started getting heated as my nervousness increased “I am nervous”.

“Don't be” he turned me around, still pressing me against the counter as he cupped my cheeks, delicately holding me like I was made of glass.

Tracing my slightly parted lips with his thumb, he lifted my chin up towards him and leaned in for a sensual kiss. My eyes turned wide as his sweet breath ghosted my face. When our lips connected, I closed my eyes, stars darting behind closed lids, sparks running through my body as a throbbing heat awoke deep inside of me. Our tongues met and intertwined as he tasted me, exploring the depth of my mouth, as the kiss grew more passionate. I raised my hands and laced them into his silky hair, pulling him even closer into the kiss while he slowly started tracing along my sides.

I could feel his hot excitement growing bigger in his pants and automatically reached down to press my palm against his crotch, carefully striking it. He exhaled sharply, his kiss getting wilder, breathless until he finally parted.

Panting he gazed at me and whispered with his low husky voice, "You are going to be the death of me".

With one swift movement he lifted me on his hips, my legs and arms wrapped around him, and carried me over to my bed, where he gently laid me on the sheets. My hair fanned out behind me as I arched my back, so he could pull my shirt off, exposing my delicate skin and lacey bra. He elicited a beautiful whimper from my lips as he scooped a hand behind my back and unlatched my bra with a snap of his fingers, pulling it off.

"So beautiful…" he groaned to himself, awed by the sight.

My pants and underwear flung to the floor next. He reached behind his back, pulling his shirt off with one swift move, exposing his defined muscles and abs. I inhaled as he shrugged his jeans off and pulled down his boxers, his huge cock springing into full view. I gasped at the sheer size of it, thickly veined and glistening with precum.

As he bent forward to lean in to another kiss, our skin met, his touch irresistibly icy and hot at the same time. We continued kissing as he trailed his hands up my waist and started circling my breasts. He captured my soft moans with his mouth as he gently slid his rough hands over my delicate skin. His lips left mine and I winced at the loss, as he peppered my cheeks and neck with small little kisses.

"Baby, you are gorgeous!" he cood, nose brushing down my middle, burying his face between my breasts, before moving to one of your nipples, sucking and biting at the soft flesh.

He delighted in the soft moans that escaped my lips before he started pinching my nipple with his right, cold hand, while his left, hot to the touch, cupped my other breast so he could latch onto my pebble again. I winced at the temperature difference, purest pleasure washing through my body like jolts of electricity. His palms were massaging me, brushing over my oversensitive skin as I slowly rolled my hips against him.

"Shōto," a choking gasp fell from my lips, "I want you, now..."

He hummed in approval before letting go of my mound, "You ready, baby?" I nodded.

"Really!?" He smirked, his hand, icy to the touch, trailed down my stomach, making my hair stand up until I felt him slide his finger over my swollen folds, caressing it with every stroke. As one of his fingers slid inside of me, I mewled at the size of it, so much thicker than mine. My eyelids fluttered with lust and I bit my lower lip to suppress more moans.

“Nuh-uh, no holding back” he teased and slipped yet another finger inside, as shameless moans kept falling from my mouth.

“You sound so sweet,” his thumb caught my clit, rolling circles into it, increasing his speed until my breathing became faster and my eyes rolled back in my head. He curled his fingers inside me, watching me react like it was pure electricity as he rubbed that sensitive spot inside of me. My pupils dilated and unfocused, I felt the knot inside myself beginning to tense up and my body started to shudder.

“Now you are ready,” he watched me as my perfect lips part, a soft longing moan vibrating from my throat.

Still in a foggy haze, I felt him withdraw his hands and spread my legs apart. His hips brushed against my thighs as he positioned himself in front of my sweet folds, rubbing his cock along my slit.

“So wet, you are perfect” he whispered, mesmerized by the sight of my essence dripping onto the sheets. He leaned forward, a hand on each side of my body as he gazed down at me.

“Look at me,” he whispered longingly and our eyes locked as he slowly pushed forward.

"Oh my god," I choked out, my lungs sucking in air and I raised my hips to make room as he started to fill me up inch by inch.

"Tell me if it’s too much.” He hissed as he carefully eased all the way in. I winced as I felt my wet walls stretching around his girth, clenching, sucking his cock all the way in. He panted in my neck, buried incredibly deep inside of me. My chest heaved as he carefully pulled out of me, then back all the way in. He started moving with slow, heavy thrusts until I was a whimpering mess below him. With every move I could feel the thick ridge of his cock rub against that one special spot on my gummy walls. He rolled his hips and I threw my arms around his neck, my nails digging deep into the soft skin of his back.

“You are incredible,” he groaned and I whimpered at his words, feeling myself clench tighter. Shōto took up the pace, now thrusting into me, his head falling forward, sweat rolling down his cheek.

“Please cum on me, baby,” he managed to get out between ragged breaths and my mind started to fog over as I felt the coil inside my core snap. I keened, shameless moans falling from my mouth as my mind exploded with pleasure. My body buckled under him, as continuous waves of pure pleasure washed over me. The way my cunt squeezed around him in the aftershocks of my orgasm had Shōto following me shortly after, bottoming inside me a final time as he came deep inside my quivering walls.

His hand found mine, fingers sliding between mine, intertwining as we both whispered words of love against each other's lips. We stayed like this until our hearts stopped racing and our breathing had calmed down. When he pulled his softening cock out of me he rested his head between my breasts, taking in the sweet scent of me.

“That was… beautiful,” he murmured into my damp skin and kissed it softly, “Can't wait for more.”

He laid down next to me and I nestled into his arms and rested my head on his chest. He stroked my hair gently and kissed the top of my head. We continued caressing each other, enjoying the moments of perfect harmony. After a while we got up and took a shower together, heated kisses falling under the steaming water. We made love over and over again until it was deep in the night. Our bodies sweaty and totally spent, we snuggled up to each other. His perfect nose ran circles along my neck as he whispered with heated breath “I love you.” I gazed into his grey and turquoise eyes and whispered my love back to him. Turning off the light, we quickly fell asleep in each other's loving embrace.

________________________________

Pt. 2

[deluluass]

What bliss, domesticity.

for: @tink2kagome. i’m sorry it took me so long to work on ur pretty setter squad request T^T i’ll probably do like another one in the future! 

  & @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa @belpomme @chaichai-the-weeb for being such lovely mutuals <3 <3 

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; yakuza/organized crime; gun mention; a lot of (non-sexual) food references in this one

  Jun’ichi Saikawa was obviously the kind of man who liked to laugh. Not unlike most people in their world. The kind who use their entire body when they do, announcing to the entire world with a bellowing “Ha Ha Ha!” how pleased they are with whatever’s going on in front of them.

  Which, in all honesty, was pretty admirable, that the old man could still do it considering how bored to tears Wataru was. 

  That it’s a humid afternoon didn’t help either. He could feel the sweat on his back even when the doors were already slid open, exhibiting a verdant garden filled with blossoms and shrub peonies. From his place he could see the school of koi swirling in the shallow pond, their scales iridescent under the warm rays of the sun. 

  “Didn’t know you were the funny sort, 'Kaashi!” Saikawa blurted out, the sake in his hand spilling to his fingers.

  This wasn’t Wataru’s first day on the job, but this is the first that he gets to do something this important. And with someone he highly respects, too. 

  So he gave his collar a light tug, steeling himself to endure as he tucked his legs further beneath him, and resorted to thinking about the many things he would absolutely surrender just to lie down on the warm mat. 

  His car, maybe.

  The brand new noise-cancelling headphones he bought, if pushed. 

  Wataru saw Akaashi nod.

  “I appreciate a joke every now and then,” he said.

  The larger man laughed again.

  “Here, here!” Saikawa thundered, snatching a tiny, yellow box from the maid who appeared as swiftly as she’d left. 

  “I heard you like sweets. Here,” he said, grinning as he handed it to Akaashi. “My youngest son just opened a cake shop. I know what you’re thinking, but who am I to say no, eh?”

  Akaashi passed the box to Wataru. 

  “Mind it for me, please,” he whispered.

  How unexpected. Akaashi-san has a sweet tooth.

  Huh. 

  That’s pretty neat. Wataru himself wasn’t partial to cakes, but he does love pudding. 

  “You are a good father, Jun’ichi-san,” Akaashi told him. 

  This time, Wataru didn’t bother suppressing a yawn as Saikawa fumbled for his phone, hiding it behind his hand as he stared at the birds chirping and hopping about outside.

  “Wanna see him? He’s much like you! Good head on his shoulders, that one.” 

  “I am honored, Jun’ichi-san,” Akaashi echoed back, peering down at the photos Saikawa showed him. 

  “He sends me a lot of these- uh,” Saikawa snorted, his nose reddened by the alcohol. “What do young people call it, the- pictures-”

  “Selfies?” Akaashi politely supplied. 

  “That’s the one! Look. Precious, ain’t he?”

  His earpiece crackled to life. 

  Konoha’s voice emerged from the static. 

  “We’re ready when you are,” his senior murmured. “Man, this is taking too long. Let’s get some burgers when we’re done.”

  “Akaashi-san,” Wataru croaked, feeling his cheeks heat up as he continued, “K-Komi-san and the others are waiting for you.”

  Saikawa perked up. “Ah, of course! Of course!” 

  He stumbled when he attempted to stand up. Akaashi was quick on his feet to assist him.

  “I knew I could count on you, son,” he muttered, patting Akaashi’s back. “Now, you tell Bokuto that what happened between us- it’s all in the past! All in the past! And if those bastards mess with him again, you tell him to run to old Jun’ichi!”

  Akaashi clasped Saikawa’s hand.

  “Thank you,” Akaashi said. “I’ll be sure to relay your sentiments to Bokuto-san.”

  “You do that, my boy.” Saikawa’s belly shook as he laughed. “Your generation’s a smart one, indeed. The in-fighting and wars, bah! All that trouble for nothing; that’s not your style. Your lot’s the future now!”

  Then, Akaashi stepped a few meters back and bowed. 

  Wataru followed behind him. 

  “We will be taking our leave,” Akaashi said. “It has been an illuminating talk, Jun’ichi-san.”

  The sound of the bamboo drip trickling water into another stalk permeated through the silence.

  It collapsed and clunked against a stone. 

  He heard the birds flutter away.

  When Wataru raised his head, Saikawa had already been lying face down on the floor. 

  And, of course, Wataru’s used to it: the crack of a gun muffled by a silencer. 

  He’s been practicing his entire life, after all. He actually doesn’t flinch anymore and Wataru thinks he should be proud of himself.

  It’s just that... how could someone who used to be there, suddenly...disappear? Saikawa was right in front of him a few minutes ago. Laughing and showing off photographs of his son. And now he’s...not.

  But, Saikawa didn’t disappear. Not really. 

  The blood seeping through the tatami is proof of it, but Wataru chooses not to look. In theory, he knows what a bullet through the skull looks like. He’d just rather not see today if what he’s taught reflects true in the real world. 

  Maybe some other time.

  “Wataru.” 

  Wataru flinched. “Y-yes?”

  Akaashi looked back at him. “The cake?”

  His body was still trembling and it took a lot of strength to not let it show in his hands when he gave it back to Akaashi, the box pleasantly yellow with doodles of doe-eyed eggs dancing along the handle. Unblemished, unlike Akaashi, who was sporting a splatter of blood along his cheek. 

  It’s surprisingly still cool to touch, too.

  “No, thank you,” he said, rejecting the handkerchief that Wataru offered. 

  From afar, Wataru could hear the faint melodies of an old love song being played by a car radio. No doubt Konoha’s doing. It followed them, growing louder the closer they walked back into the parking lot. The others bowed and sent gruff salutations along Akaashi’s way as they dragged bodies out of the Saikawa mansion. 

  (It was nauseating and Wataru wanted to pass out.)

  He pressed his nails harshly into the meat of his palm. 

  “A-Akaashi-san,” Wataru began. “I didn’t know that- that um, you liked... sweets.”

  Akaashi halted. 

  “No, I don’t,” he said, blinking. “But my wife does.”

  Wataru stared at him. 

  Akaashi went ahead. 

  He stayed that way— staring and wondering, until they stopped by the fast food restaurant that Konoha loved so much. Wataru couldn’t even finish his burger and fries. 

  By the time that they hit the freeway, Akaashi had already cleaned himself up and Wataru was still grappling with the word “wife.” 

  Of course he knows the man is married. 

  But, how, exactly, do you reconcile his reputation with the sight of him, every passing headlight sharpening his features, quietly humming along to Aki Yashiro? Who was longing for Shinjuku at night, the beauty of it, and oh, how wonderful it’d be, she said: a rendezvous with her lover, waiting for her under raining cherry blossoms. 

  Wataru figured that he was tired and starting to see things. 

  That small smile that graced Akaashi’s lips couldn't be real, either, especially those hands of his that held the box of cake like it’s worth more than gold.

He wasn't really particular when it comes to music. A song's a song, in Akaashi's opinion. Another form of noise that helps when the silence gets too overbearing. 

  But you, on the other hand, liked music. Listened to it the same way one eats their favorite food: memorizes the lyrics; goes out of your way to collect unearthed photographs and newspaper clippings that made the singer seem more human.

  You loved music— was probably the right way of putting it.

  Especially the old variety. He didn't get it at first. The sounds are dated; no one speaks in that language with that cadence anymore; the singer's probably dead.

  Well, Akaashi still doesn't get it, if he were to be honest. 

  Yet here he is. 

  His hands were wrapped around your waist, coaxing you into a slow— albeit clumsy, waltz.

  "Kei-kun!" you squeaked. "The dishes!"

  You dragged your slippers beneath you, struggling to wipe the suds off your hands. 

  "S-seriously, Kei-kun..!"

  Sure, he doesn’t fully understand what’s great about it, music. 

  Yet here he is. 

  Perhaps it’s because he immediately recognized the first few notes this time, that’s why he’s doing this. He didn’t even wait for the DJ to finish saying, “You’re still listening to Vintage F.M. Here’s a classic for you couples out there. Have a romantic night with Nat King Cole’s L-O-V-”

  Perhaps it’s because your cream stew tasted extra special that it made him shrug the fatigue off, giving in to the urge of pulling you close and taking your damp hand in his to sway and bob along the skipping bassline. Your bashful objections went in one ear and out the other.

  Sure, he’s not the type to do this, either, dancing. 

  Yet here he is. 

  Perhaps it’s because he knew that it’s your favorite song.

  Perhaps it’s just what marriage does to you.

  "Did you like the cake?" he whispered against your neck, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and the way your skin jumped as he did.

  Your breaths were shallow against his chest, but you managed a soft, “Yes, sweetheart. Thank you.”

  Akaashi caressed your back, kneading the tensed muscles as he huffed. 

  “Good,” he murmured, trembling. “Good girl. What a relief." 

  It was endearing, how offbeat the both of you were. A shame, though, considering that Nat King Cole’s fervently insisting on love; that it’s all that I can give to you; that it’s more than just a game for two. 

  So Akaashi makes up for his two left feet by joining in. He pressed his lips to your forehead. How strange, your presence in his life. What did he do to deserve you by his side, for this contentment that thaws away the chill?

  (He put a ring on your finger, is what he did. He deserves this.)

  “Two,” he droned, made giddy by the sparks in his belly, “in love can make it.”

  You looked at him, wide-eyed. 

  “Take my heart and please don’t break it.”

  He spun you around.

  “Oh my god, Kei-kun,” you gasped. “You can’t sing.”

  Akaashi’s aware of it all too well. He can’t carry a note; not him: the guy who’s had monotony ingrained in his very being. But that’s why he has you.

  A startled giggle left you as he guided you into a box step, the trumpet rising and falling over the strings. You stepped on him a few times, so he lifted you up, just so, and kicked off your slippers. Then, he set your feet atop his own. 

  He took you with him as he moved, waddling and careful not to hit his back against the countertop. It came as no revelation that both of you weren’t any better dancers even after this maneuver.

  Akaashi continued. Starting with L—

  “Is for the way you look at me.”

  “Stop, stop-” Your eyes crinkled at the sides. “You’re flat.”

  Akaashi persisted, anyway, taking your cheek to pepper kisses all over your face.

  “O is for the only one I see.”

  Your laugh was airy— light and buoyant all over the kitchen, like a fairy leaving stardust in its wake. Not gratingly booming nor demanding. After all, you weren’t the kind who felt the need for it: an audience to witness how pleased you are; how strong and powerful you are over everyone else. 

  Besides, your laugh was just for him. A private and intimate thing. And he was so lost in it that he almost forgot what’s been gnawing at him for the entire morning.

  Akaashi rested his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling the downy fabric of your dress as he gripped you by the hips. 

  “Where did you go earlier?” 

  The orchestra was in a joyous uproar, joining the rapid beating of your heart; the trumpet bright and clear, singing in harmony with the bass and saxophones and trombones, as Nat King Cole repeatedly guaranteed, as if an oath, that love was made for me and you. 

  Love was made for me and you.

  “I had to buy some groceries!” you piped up. “We ran out of ingredients. Sorry, I forgot to bring my phone with me. Oh, I have to run you a bath. I’ll tell you when it’s done, alright?”

  You broke away from him with a beaming grin, but Akaashi wanted to ask, despite the evidence of it before him. 

  “Are you happy?”

  It has already ended, the song. The DJ was signing off for the night.

  You nodded, playfully jabbing his arm with a fist. 

  “Of course,” you told him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Perhaps it’s because you were never really good at pretense, no matter how much you hid behind needless noise. 

  Music. Laughter. Running water. 

  Akaashi sighed as he slumped down the nearest stool.

  Of course you’re happy. Why wouldn’t you be?

  After rubbing his eyes with clammy fingers, Akaashi fiddled them together beneath his temples. He released a heavy breath and fished for his phone in his pocket.

  He spoke after the first two rings. 

  “Wataru-san, I’m sorry for bothering you,” he said. “Can you do something for me?”

  His subordinate didn't ask him why, neither did he react when he'd stated his request. Akaashi knew, however, that the question was sitting in Wataru's clipped replies. The boy’s “yes, sir” and “understood, sir” were far too enthusiastic than normal.

  Akaashi didn’t mind, though, if he did ask. And despite that familiar pang of dread, Akaashi would answer him like the common— just like the average, everyday husband— with that characteristic, bordering on irksome pride that they have when they talk about their wives. 

  Why?

  “Well, Wataru-san,” Akaashi would answer. “Perhaps this is just what marriage does to you.”

The house was a house like any other.

  There was an old pickup truck parked outside the freshly painted gate, carrying crates of fruits and vegetables in its trunk. Along the bricked walls was an overgrowth of vines and ferns. It extended around the windows and crept up the balcony.

  A large Shiba ran outside and jumped to your lap as soon as it saw you by the driveway.

  Wataru heard Chiaki stir at the back of the car.

  “Pay up, asshole,” he grunted, waking a disheveled Ryota who’s still holding a half-bitten melon bread.

  His lackey cracked his neck and gave the scenery a cursory glance. “Could be a front.”

  Ryota grumbled and went back to sleep.

  “Idiot,” Chiaki clicked his tongue. “She traveled all the way to Miyagi just to give intel? And here? Of all places?”

  Three days. 

  They’ve tailed you for three days. Akaashi-san never said anything else, besides that within the week, while he’s gone and sealing deals in another country, there was a high likelihood of you folding and getting out of Tokyo. 

  To run right here. In Miyagi.

  He didn’t say why, really, but Wataru supposes it’s better that he didn’t. Because during the days of absolute, mind-crushing boredom, of watching some suburban wife go out for a morning walk, chat with her neighbors, and shop around the market, rinse and repeat, coming up with the Why had been their only salvation.

  The betting pool has two answers: cheater or snitch.

  Chiaki was insistent on the former, while Ryota stood by the latter. 

  And Wataru...Wataru could only watch, waiting with a bated breath as the door finally opened.

  “I bet it’s someone younger,” Chiaki said. “Usually is.”

  Seems that none of them were winning anything today.

  The man who emerged from the house was far older— who, oddly enough, resembled you. An  old woman soon followed behind him. Both of them looked at you as if they were witnessing a specter, or someone who's crawled back from the dead. An appropriate comparison, especially since they’re both wearing somber black clothes.

  It wasn’t his place to assume. Though he’s been promoted to a slightly higher position, it will never come close to the place that Keiji Akaashi occupies. Wataru knows all of these, but nothing was stopping him from putting the pieces together, no matter what little he has.

  They could only stare when all of you broke down into tears, locked in each other’s embrace as you knelt on the pavement. 

  Don’t let her stay too long.

  That had been one of Akaashi-san’s orders.

  So the three of them didn’t wait it out. By the time that the sun had set, Wataru had already stepped out of the car, taking Ryota with him. He made sure to remind the boy, just in case he’d forgotten.

  “Be gentle, alright?” Wataru reiterated.

  There hadn’t been any need for that, it turned out. 

  He’s sure you’ve never met before, but Wataru saw bitter understanding flash in your eyes when you caught them loitering in front of your house. Fear was there, too, of course. 

  Wataru was convinced that surely it’s a good thing. It saved everyone a lot of time, that way.

  You didn’t even say a word, only giving Wataru a stiff nod when he’d introduced himself, and remained like so on the ride back to Tokyo, with the strap of your handbag trapped by a clenched fist. Wataru didn’t try to initiate small talk; it felt unnecessary.

  It took a while for Wataru to realize that you also hadn’t bothered to change out of your pajamas, though he gave you a couple of minutes to say your farewells. 

  Pajamas, obscured now by a thick, gray coat. 

  Akaashi-san was right.

  You had no plans of coming home. Not tonight. Maybe not for a while.

  Wataru decided not to linger on it anymore. 

  He ignored the blank stare that pierced right through the rear-view mirror. And then, Wataru wondered, hand sweating in his pocket, what the three of them should have for dinner.

Thick chunks of pumpkin melted in your mouth with just the first spoonful of broth. 

  It'd been a while since the last time Akaashi cooked. So, more than anything, it was the sight of him setting plates and utensils that took you aback, greeting you with a, "Welcome home. You're just in time. Food's ready," his sleeves rolled to his elbows while donning your baby owl-printed apron. 

  The taste didn't. Surprise you, that is. He's a good cook. Unlike you, who only became marginally better one hundred burn scars later. 

  It also didn't surprise you that he flew back home at the drop of a hat. Even when he said he'd be gone for a week.

  "How is it?" Akaashi asked after chewing. "Took me a while to make it."

  It obviously did, you thought. When you arrived, Irma Thomas was already begging through the record player.

  "Do you need me, like I need you?" she implored, straight from the heart. "Look at me, I'm crying from holding you." 

  The last song on your favorite record. It was cheap and had the best from the artists you loved. 

  Etta James. Ella Fitzgerald. Aretha Franklin. The Mills Brothers. Bessie Smith. All in one vinyl.

  "Yeah," you replied, clearing your throat when you realized how hard it is to speak. "It's delicious."

  You looked back down to your bowl. The  tofu had gone untouched. Your food was still close to spilling to the brim, while Akaashi was almost finished with his, scrolling on his phone laid on the table.

  "So no one coaxed you into it," you heard him say, and that had ripped your eyes away from the broth like a bandage on an infected wound.

  Akaashi was holding your phone, reading the messages- his number was the only one there, as pealing bells resonated in the dining room. 

  "I'd think of all the things that I wanted of you," cried Irma Thomas. "To make me forget the pain that you caused."

  "I would've known if anyone else talked to you, anyway," he huffed, locking the screen before blowing steam off the morsel. 

  "You would," you conceded. The tofu was soft when you bit into it, sinking into your teeth.

  "I found that in our cabinet. Last time it was in the kitchen drawer, wasn't it?" Akaashi helped himself to a bowl of rice. "Don't leave it in stuffy places. What if you forget where you hid it and you won't know when I call?"

  "And I can no longer keep track of where you are for every moment of the day?" you could hear him say. Though he didn't; though all that could heard, besides the scraping of utensils, was Irma Thomas declaring:

  A fragile thing, like life. It just don't last so long.

  It could be for a minute or an hour. Or then again, from now.

  Your lips tightened with a grin. "I won't do it again, sweetheart," you said, spoon hanging limply in your hold.    

  He didn't need to say it. 

  That your phone has a tracker. That this house is still the same cage that it'd been before. That the only difference between then and now is that silver band on your finger.

  Akaashi’s blinked back at you as he sipped  what remained of the soup. You tried to do the same.

  The savory taste was cloying and it burned in your throat, so you didn't attempt to finish the bowl. It cut down to your heart, sinking heavily on your stomach, bile rising as the song came to a close.

  You gulped it down, though. You had to. And in the final moments, Irma Thompson told you what she really wanted. 

  "Make me forget," she said, "the pain that you'd caused."

  The chorus joined her. "Understanding is a great thing," she concluded. "If it comes from the heart."

  Akaashi was on his own phone this time. Most likely checking on the business that he left, judging by those furrowed brows and that long-suffering look in his eyes.   

  Fizzling noise came at the heels of the fading music. Then, it stopped. And there was nothing left anymore but silence.

  It's over now. Akaashi’s making a move to clean up. You were supposed to say, "That was a lovely dinner, honey." Or, you could tell him to sit down and watch a movie with you when he's done. 

  "I'll help you with the dishes," you wanted to say. 

  I'll help you with the dishes. It was so easy to say. 

  Instead, what came out of your mouth was a hushed call for his name.

  "Kei-kun," you repeated, brittle and weak and dry.  

  "I'm so sorry," you might've mouthed. 

  You could barely hear your own voice as you looked at him. Akaashi paused from tidying the table. 

  You're parched and a lot has happened today. Gathering the courage to take that first step out of the city had taken what little strength you had. The fear never left you. Seeing your old house almost ended you. 

  It should be physically impossible for you to still be able to cry. And yet there doesn't seem to be an end to your tears now, the same way your apologies unfurled in an embarrassingly infinite string.

  "Don't lock me inside here again," you whispered, clinging to him as he shushed you, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs as he helped you drink a glass of water.

  He carried you to your room and sat you down on the bed, right between his thighs. You sobbed into your hands, tears and snot on the sleeves of your pajama top.

  "I- I just wanted to see them. That's all. Just one day, Kei-kun. One day. I was gonna come back, I swear." 

  You're rambling. You're a madwoman pleading and bargaining with a stone-cold judge because playing house is the only thing keeping her alive. 

  And you messed that up you foolish, foolish girl.

  "Please don't hurt my family," you heaved. "They're all I have left."

  Akaashi doesn't speak, not for a while, but when he did, you bawled harder.

  "I can kill them all," he said, matter of factly. 

  It is true. Hearing him say it does not make it easier to take, though. 

  "I can hurt you the same way that you hurt me."

  Your neck strained as he tipped your chin towards him with a slender finger. 

  "I can break you," he muttered, not batting an eye.

  That, too, is true. You know it all too well. He said it with such serenity, still and undisturbed by the shaking of your head, because it goes without saying. 

  Except, you, too, know it. 

  When he is breaking. When he is falling apart.

  He smothered you, taking your entire body to curl against you, making himself small as he pressed his face on your back.

  "Yet- and yet I-" Akaashi sniffled. You felt your shirt dampen. "I've given you everything."

  When he finally brought his face close to yours, he looked so lost. Almost like a little boy who's on the verge of drowning,  clinging desperately onto a lifesaver and too shocked to shout for help. 

  You hated him all the more for it.

  "Each other," he said, snarling, almost, through tears as he grabbed your face with both hands. "That's all we have left, you hear? You and I. Husband and wife."

  He seized your jaw and turned it towards the vanity mirror.

  The room was dark save for the light in the hallway, peeking into the crack through the doorway. 

  But you could see yourself. And you could see your hand intertwined in his, your rings gleaming like muted starlights. 

  "We made a vow," he whispered, kissing your ring finger. 

  A detached part of you is astonished with how inescapable it is. Whether it be a reward or a punishment; a good day or a bad one.

  No matter what happens, you always end up like this, don't you? 

  Begging to him with your legs spread wide.

  You did as you'd always done when he began unbuttoning your top. 

  You go back to that autumn morning, when you first laid your eyes on him, a cup of coffee in his hand, and you thought that he had the prettiest face you'd ever seen.

  You go back to when he was just this really romantic guy who sent you flowers every day. There was a letter, every time. 

  Nothing too grandiose. Just short messages hoping that you'd have a great day ahead.

  He kissed your neck, wet smooches and long, flat-tongued licks dipping down your shoulder.

  He watched you through the mirror, his eyes a pair of darkened blues daring you to look away.

  Akaashi Keiji was your boyfriend, you told yourself. You dated him for quite some time before you married.

  Akaashi Keiji got along well with your father and doted on your mother. On Sundays, you visit them and they send you back to Tokyo with ripe watermelons. 

  Akaashi Keiji has never hurt you.

  The man tracing the hem of your bra, cupping your clothed tits and drawing lazy circles over nipples, however, did.

  (And he still will in future. He still is, right now.)

  This man is the real one. 

  And you have angered him, so he will not make this easy for you.

  "What did you promise me?" Akaashi whispered as he lightly bit the shell of your ear. "Or have you forgotten?"

  Of course, you haven't forgotten. You were chained to this very room when you made them, after all.

  "N-no, I remember," you said, catching your breath. "I remember, Kei-kun."

  "Then say it," he said. "Look at me."

  You shivered as his palms swept over your  stomach; as he unfastened your bra, letting it fall down your arms.

  "Look at me when you say it."

  You felt your nipples harden, gooseprickles spread all over you, as the air hit your bare skin, cooling the sweat that made it glisten.

  "Please," he rasped.

  The eyes of the woman in the mirror was hooded, threatening to close as she puffed with each squeeze and caress to her tits, swiveling her hips against her husband’s crotch as he grinded into her. 

  "I will be happy," she said.

  Akaashi nuzzled your temple, using his rough fingers to tease your nipples just as he did, brushing them to and fro, then grazing the bumpy skin around until you're squeaking out his name. 

  And when he began pressing down on the stiff peaks with his thumbs, before rolling and pulling at them, the heels of his palm digging into your tits, you saw the woman claw at her husband's hair, a graceless affair that almost scratched his eye out, making him reach for both her arms to wrap them around his neck. 

  "I- I will..!" Her lips parted in a breathless scream and it was disgusting how lewd she appeared. "I will not run away!"

  The streak of tears on his cheeks touched yours when he kissed you. His lips were soft and warm, his wet tongue gliding in so slowly as he deepened the kiss with a throaty groan.

  His other hand crawled down to your soaked panties. You couldn't contain the mewl that left you.

  Both of you gasped and struggled to breathe again after you parted from each other.  

  "You understand, don't you?" he rasped.   

  Two of his fingers slid down your folds, only to slither back up, then down again, smearing your cunt with its own slick.

  But he never touched your swollen clit, even though it's throbbing and aching to be rubbed and the hard bulge sitting between your ass grew harder the more you squirmed in his hold, whimpering like a bitch in heat.  

  You heard your husband sigh, his hot breath tickling you when he said, "This isn't about you now."

Belly pushed into the edge of the dressing table, rattling and battering against the wall with each forceful thrust, and your leg perched atop it, made numb by Akaashi's grip on your thigh.

  That was the first thing that you could recall when you opened your eyes.

  But your entire body was screaming in pain, so you knew that everything else that happened last night would come back to you soon enough.

  The flesh had a memory of its own. 

  You sat up with a groan and you didn't have to see the marks to know.

  His teeth were still nipping at you, biting you until they drew blood, only to follow with an apologetic lapping of his tongue. 

  You could feel him beneath you, his hands clawing you down to him, palms kneading your ass cheeks as you bounced up and down on his cock.

  You could feel him above you, gripping your wrists not unlike the cuffs that once kept you shackled. He had your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling you close to him, filling you up with loads and loads of cum, squelching every time he sank down your weeping hole.

  And when your vision began to blur at the edges, he carried your body, mere seconds into fainting, to the dressing table. 

  The evidence of that stared back at you in shameful streaks and smudges, traces of your fingers on the mirror when he rammed your cunt from behind.

  "Are you happy?" Akaashi whispered.

  You don't know. 

  When he's just your husband who comes home to your arms and brings you sweets because he knows how much you love them; who dances with you in the kitchen and listens intently to you when you talk about that cute dog you saw at the park, were you happy, then?

  You don't know, but the woman in the mirror, in that moment, surely was.

  She even said, "Yes, yes, Kei-kun, right there, fuck me right there!"

  Her pupils were blown wide, eyes rolling almost over to the back of her head. And despite the cries that escaped her, there was a wide, dissipated smile on her lips,  spit trailing down her chin.

  "Look at you," Akaashi said, grunting when your walls tightened around his shaft. "You're clearly happy with me."

  "So why? Why'd you even think of leaving?" He rocked his hips, grinding his thick cock against that spot that had you holding onto the mirror. "Don't ever do that to me again." 

  You told him no, no, you won't run away again, but it didn't seem to placate his unease, nor his tears.

  "I'm so scared, everyday, that you'll leave me and- and- it feels like hell. I would rather die." 

  He kissed your nape as he huffed and said, "Because I don't know what I'll do without you."

  You never really understood why; what about you had caused him to single you out in the sea of people that had vied for his attention. Especially now as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

  There were dark circles under your eyes and Akaashi’s t-shirt was rumpled on your body, engulfing you whole with its size— a far cry from that lovely, dazzling bride that his best friend, Bokuto, had described you as on your wedding day. 

  But you’re aware, more than anyone, that Akaashi Keiji is the last person to care about appearances. 

  When he entered the room, carrying a tray in his hands, he gazed at that disheveled girl with eyebags big enough to be dragged around the same way he looked at her when he waited for her at the end of the aisle.

  “I made you pancakes,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he sat down beside you.

  You were tired so it didn’t dawn on you as quickly as it should that he made them the way you preferred. Four fluffy pieces stacked atop one another, sprinkled with powdered sugar, whipped cream and a smattering of berries on the side.

  He fiddled with his fingers when you only stared at it, so you immediately took the fork in your hand and sliced the pancake in half.

  “I’ll be taking some time off work,” Akaashi said as you took the food in your mouth. You only nodded, having noticed that he wasn’t wearing the usual bespoke suit as soon as he entered the room.

  You felt him near you; felt his hand, warm to touch, cup your face.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His eyes were misty and, this close, it seemed that he, too, wasn’t in a good shape. “So please-” Akaashi licked his chapped lips, “Please don’t go.”

  “I won’t,” you replied, giving him the smile that you knew he needed. “I promise.”

  Then, as you moved to kiss him on the cheek, the chains that tethered you to the bedpost clinked softly beneath the blanket, and you didn’t bother to keep the tears at the bay.

  Akaashi wiped them for you when you said that you loved him. And when he asked why, you only shrugged and told him that the pancakes were so sweet that they could make anyone cry. 

[cjsinkythoughts]

A History Lesson

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4741

Warnings: Vulgar language, I think that’s it (it’s mainly fluff like Bucky’s)

Summary: You never were fond of history...but if history gives you a man like that? Maybe you could deal with it.

A/N: Here it is! A little later than I had hoped, but my brother is visiting, it was his birthday this week, work’s been a bit hectic, and I ended up writing a little something for Bucky’s birthday on Wednesday, which I didn’t mean to. I got it done, though! First Date with our dear Cap’n Spangles! I have all the First Date ideas for the other Avengers lined up, but I think I’m gonna put this on hiatus for now. I’m gonna try focusing on my College!AU at the moment. If you guys want, I’ll share my First Date plans, though. If I find time, I’ll write the next one. If you haven’t noticed, I have a fondness for collages, so I might do what I’m doing for my College!AU Project and make collages for the other First Dates before writing them. Anyways, enough with my ramblings. Enjoy the date!

You keep checking the clock, waiting for this lecture to be done. You typically enjoy school, but history isn’t a strong suit for you. You try in history, you really do, but all the information - the dates, people, places - it’s too much. You constantly mix things up, no matter how hard you study. And you don’t really get the hype. Who cares what these dead guys did? It happened, it’s done, and it’s time to move on.

“That’s all for today! Don’t forget your papers are due on Monday! You’re dismissed!”

You let out a groan at the mention of the cursed research paper. You had stayed up for hours the previous nights working on it, but so far you have squat. The essay is on the Second World War (more specifically the differences of life between Americans and Europeans at the time), and you know you should’ve done it when it was given a week ago, but your shitty memory makes it difficult to write a paper without five million textbooks in front of you and you don’t have time to go to the library every night between work, friends, and other projects. So, you haven’t done it yet.

Exhausted, mentally and physically, you collect your things and head out of the lecture hall. You pull out your phone to text your friends, telling them you have to work on a paper tonight and you can’t meet up for dinner like you all usually do on Fridays. Deciding to take a breather before working, you start out to the bench overlooking the Potomac River, which you always sat at to relax and just…be. The scenic walk through DC and the sight of the steady river flowing besides the busy city always calms you. 

You sit there for a few moments, letting the slight breeze chill the skin that’s warmed by the sun, listening to it ruffle the trees. The blush pink blossoms that appear when Spring sings her song and chases away Winter flutter to the newly grown, bright green grass below. You enjoy all the seasons, unable to help but love the unique beauty each brings, and Spring is no exception, despite the allergies and tests she brings.

And speaking of tests…

A soft sigh passes your lips as you get out your laptop. You might as well start writing, or at least researching, that paper. You never were good at relaxing when there’s work to be done.

You’re so engrossed in getting the stupid essay done and over with that you don’t notice the jogger who pauses in his run by the very bench you are slaving away on. “Savin’ this seat for anyone?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, no. Go ahead.” You answer distractedly, not even looking up from your screen as the owner of the deep voice sits besides you.

A few more minutes pass in comfortable silence, before you ruin it with a grumble and delete half the paragraph you just wrote. “That doesn’t make sense.” You change tabs to look over the information on the page you have pulled up again, only to furrow your eyebrows. You’re pretty sure the information is wrong. You may have a shitty memory, but you’re sure that the information given on this page is in contrast to the information given in the book you were reading a couple days ago.

“What’re you workin’ so hard on there, honey?”

You let out a huff, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. “Some dumb research paper for school! It’s on World War Two, and I can’t remember what’s right and what’s wrong and it’s a stupid topic anyways that my stupid teacher assigned! Who fucking cares about a hundred years ago? And how the hell am I supposed to know this? I wasn’t alive! You know what I…”

The words die on your tongue as you finally glance over at the stranger keeping you company.

Blonde hair that seems gold with the way the sun is hitting the strands, which are damp and in slight disarray due to his exercise. Bright blue eyes reflecting the sky above, hidden beneath long lashes that you’re immediately envious of. Pretty pink lips, matching the cherry blossoms on the trees surrounding you, pulling up into an amused sort of smile. The makings of a beard lining his jaw and littering his cheeks.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. You just ranted about how stupid history is to Captain fucking America. You just ranted about how you have to write a dumb essay on World War Two to Captain fucking America.

Ignoring the way your body heats up, starting in your toes and climbing up your legs, chest, and neck to reach the tips of your ears, a nervous little chuckle is all you can give. You clear your throat, trying to think of how to apologize. “I guess you wouldn’t know what I mean, huh?”

What in the ever loving fuck was that? That was not an apology!

You clear your throat and try again. “I-I mean…sorry. It’s not - I didn’t mean-”

“No, no. It’s fine, sweetheart.” The grin he shoots you makes you glad you aren’t standing up, knowing full well your knees would’ve buckled if you were. You open your mouth to apologize again, but he shakes his head before you can speak. “Really. It’s okay. I get it. I used to be a student too. And you’re right; it was a long time ago and there’s a lot of things that happened. Even I have a hard time keeping track of everything that went down.”

You merely blink at him, nodding slowly. Say something. For the love of God, please just say something. Anything! “Yeah. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning.” Really? You’re sitting besides the one and only Captain America and that’s what you decide to say?

You feel yourself slump your shoulders slightly, trying to shrink down into absolute nothingness. But even that wouldn’t work because he’s got that friend of his that could shrink and he’d find you. It seems that you were destined to be embarrassed in front of one of the most beautiful human beings on the planet. Screw the universe.

Instead of teasing you or embarrassing you further, he chuckles and nods in agreement, his eyes lighting up. “You’re not the only one. My pal Clint has got the absolute worst memory. We tease him all the time for it. How he became an agent with the memory of a goldfish, I’ll never know.” You laugh at that, your muscles relaxing and your anxiety easing up.

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotta get through college before I’m in the clear.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Uh…so, a World War Two paper, huh? Need some help? I’m kind of an expert on the topic.”

Breath hitching as he scoots closer, you swallow thickly and shrug. “I don’t want to bother you. You look like you’re in the middle of a run.” You gesture to the tight ass t-shirt hugging his torso that you’re sure is sizes too small for him and the joggers hanging off his hips.

Following your gesture, he looks down, before shaking his head. “Nah. I’ve already ran a few more miles than I was going to today.”

“Are-are you sure?”

There’s that grin again. You’re not sure you’ll be able to survive him tutoring you if he keeps  giving you that adorable toothy smile. “Honest. I’ve got the rest of the day. We can go to the library if you want. Or we can stay here. Whatever works best for you. I don’t mind either way.”

You blink again, like an idiot, as you process his words. Whatever works best for you. What a gentleman. “Uhh…I was about to head to the library anyways, but I really don’t want to bother you-”

“Trust me, honey. It’d be my pleasure.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

You let out a soft laugh and nod at his insistence, starting to pack up your things. “Okay. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You stand up as he does and offer your hand.

“Steve. But I guess you figured that out.” Taking your hand, you expect him to shake it, but he squeezes it softly and brings it to his lips instead.

Clearing your throat, you tease him a bit to hide your bashfulness at his actions. “You’re a real gentleman, aren’t you?”

He shrugs with a slight smirk, gently dropping your hand and letting it go after another squeeze. “My momma raised nothing less.”

“I’m sure she’d be proud.”

His playful eyes go slightly more somber at that, his smirk morphing into a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Giving no reply, you smile softly and nod your head to the path. He nods back before quickly falling into step besides you, asking you more about your paper as you walk to the library.

* * * * * * * *

Giggling behind your hand to stay quiet, or at least attempt to since you both had already been berated by the librarians for being too loud, your attention is once again diverted to Steve and his stories.

It started out fine; he helped you find reliable books and told you which things were true. But not even half an hour passed before Steve told you a story about the Howling Commandos after something in a book reminded him of it. Your concentration since then has been split between your paper and Steve’s retelling of his past.

“Sorry. I keep distracting you. What’s next?”

You snicker again and shake your head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m almost done anyways. I’ve actually written down a few things you said, if you don’t mind me using them. My professor can’t exactly argue with Captain America, now can he?”

His lips pull up and his shoulders shake in silent laughter. “I guess not. Of course I don’t mind. You can quote me anytime. See?” He nudges you with his shoulder playfully. “History isn’t so bad.”

“Not when you’re telling it.” You respond earnestly, grinning up at him.

“Eh, Bucky’s always been a better storyteller than me.” He gives a little shrug and rubs the back of his neck.

You shake your head at his modesty. “Well I think you do just fine. You’re the first person to get me interested in history. Hey, can you read this over for me? I just need to finalize this paragraph and do the conclusion.”

When you receive silence as an answer, you look over at the blonde with an eyebrow raised. The ocean eyes scanning over you make you a bit self conscious, so you shift slightly in your seat, making him come back from whatever thoughts overtook his mind. “Sorry. Of course I can, honey. That’s what I’m here for. Let me see.”

He gives you a few pointers on what to add and what to get rid of, before you finally finish, saving your work and closing your laptop with a huff. 

“What a mind workout. I’m sure my brain’s got abs now.”

Heads swivel towards you two as Steve guffaws, a lady a few tables down shushing him. He apologizes, still snickering. “Abs, huh?”

“I mean, not as good as yours but…” You freeze, inwardly facepalming. And you were doing so well.

He gives you a cheeky grin. “I’ve got good abs?”

“Oh don’t give me that!” You hiss out quietly. “You know you have good abs. I’m just stating facts is all.”

Another soft chuckle leaves those pretty lips and he twists in his seat to crack his back before standing to collect the books you both got out. “When’s the paper due again?”

You stand to help him, but you get a case of the butterfingers just as you go to pick the books up, making the pile tumble to the floor. “Ah shit.” Steve smiles gently at you as you huff and give him an exasperated look. “My bad.”

He snickers, bending down to help you despite having his own books to carry, like the gentleman he is. “So? Due date?”

“Monday.” You answer with a sigh, straightening up. You carefully set the books on the table to pile them better. “We should get the grade back by Friday.”

He hums, taking a few more books in those strong arms of his. “Ah, well, you’ll get a good grade. I believe in you.”

You smirk at him as you shift your bag so you could carry books under your arms. “I’m sure I will with your help, Captain.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes at your teasing manner. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Of course. I had a good time.” He sends that stunning smile your way and this time you are standing. Luckily you have a table to lean on casually instead of falling on your face. “Plus, now you’ve got a free weekend.”

“Ugh. I wish.” You shake your head. “This is my final semester before I graduate. There’s loads to do. But this makes it easier.” Heading through the aisles of the library, you catch sight of the time on a clock on the wall and your eyes widen. You’d been there for a little over three hours! “Damn! I’m sorry I took up your Friday, though. I’m sure there’s things you want to do before you have to go back to New York, huh?”

Shrugging his broad shoulders, he runs a hand through his golden locks and drops the books he had in his arms on the desk for returns. “Not really. I’m here for the next couple weeks, actually. Meetings and stuff. Plus, it doesn’t even take me an hour to get here, so I can really come whenever I want.”

“That’s nice.” You follow his lead and set your books down, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I wish I could go to New York whenever I want. I’m way too poor for that.”

He chuckles again. You’ll never get tired of the sound of his laughter. “I’m sure you’ll get there one day.”

You shrug half heartedly, not really believing him. You’re barely making it in DC. There’s no way you could make it in the Big Apple. “Sure. Someday. I’m serious, though. I’m sorry you wasted  your time with some stressed out college student instead of enjoying time with your friends.”

“I’m serious too, honey. It’s no problem; I enjoyed it. And it’s not a waste of my time. Not as long as you get a good grade.”

You laugh as the two of you head out of the building, stopping on the steps and facing each other. “How will you know if I get a good grade?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Meet me at the bench next Friday.” He finally said, his eyes sparkling. “Then we’ll see. Until then, Y/N.”

You grin, taking the large hand he offers you, firmly shaking it before he can kiss your knuckles, making him snicker. “Until then, Steve.”

* * * * * * * *

Feet pounding against the concrete, you practically jump when you spot the man already sitting at the bench. “Steve!” You shout happily, waving your paper in the air. The blonde shoots up, a brow raised in curiosity. “I got a 97!”

You come to a halt in front of him, but it’s too quick, so your clumsy feet trip over each other. Before you can fall, he catches you with ease, smiling down at you in amusement. Small pants leave your lips as sweat trickles down your spine. Where’s that breeze when you need it?

“Uhm…oops?” What the hell was that?! That was embarrassing, that’s what it was!

He chuckles, straightening you up. “You were saying?” 

With pride lifting up the corners of your mouth, you shove the paper at his chest, once again grateful that he ignored your blunderings. “97%!”

“I told you you’d be fine. And I knew it wasn’t a waste of my time.” Steve looks up from the paper to give you a toothy grin.

“Thank you again.” You take the paper he hands back to you and shove it in your bag. “I probably would’ve failed the class without this grade. Is there really nothing I can do to pay you back for your time?”

He taps his chin in faux-thought, before tilting his head innocently. “You can loan me some of your time on Sunday.”

You purse your lips, confusion written over your features. “My time? On Sunday? Oh!” You light up, figuring he just needs help with something. “Yeah, duh. Okay. What do you need help with? I can promise I’ll try my hardest, but I might not-”

“No, no. Honey, that’s not-” he laughs, shaking his head and grabbing your hand to make you stop rambling. “I’m askin’ you out.”

“Out?” You pause, registering what that meant. “Like…on a date?” Is he serious? There’s no way he wants to go on a date with you. You pretty much called his life story boring, to his face, and then made him spend three hours on a Friday evening at the library working on a college paper with you.

He snickers with a nod. “Yes, on a date. So whaddya say, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You blurt out without thinking, before you shy back, feeling yourself heat up as you tend to do around this God of a man. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’d love to. Sunday. I can do that.”

He beams adorably, like a child being allowed to buy his favorite candy bar. Or a puppy with his favorite toy. Yeah…he reminds you of a puppy. Which only makes him that much cuter.

“Awesome! Meet me here at noon. Does that work?”

You nod vigorously. “That works perfectly.”

“Perfect.” He repeats, before taking your hand and bringing your knuckles to his lips once more.

* * * * * * * *

You’re sitting on the bench, tapping your toes nervously and checking your phone every minute. He said noon and it’s only eleven thirty. It’s a bit inconvenient, to say the least, when the place you go to relax is the place you’re meeting the person making you anxious. You could barely sleep the previous night, too many doubts lingering in your head. You seem to always be making a fool of yourself in front of him, but he was the one who asked you out, so that had to count for something.

You try not to think too hard about it, instead thinking back to last Friday in the library and how his features lifted when he told stories of his childhood and the Howling Commandos and the grin he got when he told you about the things they used to do that would get them in trouble.

“But I’m Captain America, and who’s gonna say no to this face?”

A little giggle leaves your lips as you remember his words, before you’re startled back to reality as a familiar smooth voice sounds besides you.

“Whatcha giggling at, honey?”

You whip over to see Steve grinning in amusement, leaning on the back of the bench. Your eyes drag down his figure. Another too tight t-shirt showing every ridge and curve on his torso, a jacket over his broad shoulders along with a casual pair of jeans. You had seen a meme about Steve having the proportions of a Dorito and, looking at him now, you can see how true it was. It almost makes you laugh again, but you remember what exactly is happening, and you suddenly can’t find anything funny.

“Sweetheart? You alright?”

“Huh? Oh. Yes. Yeah. I’m fine. I was just…thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking and leaning his forearms against the back of the bench next to where you’re sat. “And those adorable little giggles?”

There’s that familiar flush that you’ve learned to ignore, praying to God he didn’t notice your heart skipping a beat. “Uh, I just remembered something. That’s all.”

He gives a little hum, before hopping over the back and landing besides you. “Seems like we both had the same idea. Gettin’ here early.”

“If you must know, I was just…” You shrug. “To be honest, I’m a little anxious.”

“I’m not that scary, am I?” He teases, nudging you gently.

You roll your eyes and give him a look. “I don’t think there’s a bone in your body capable of being scary. I’m just…I’m nervous I’m gonna embarrass myself…again.”

Steve shakes his head, looking at you earnestly. “You’re not gonna embarrass yourself.”

Picking at the hem of your shirt, you scoff, shaking your head. “I already have. The amount of times I’ve tripped or said something stupid or rambled, which I’m doing right now, or-”

“Honey, honey. Slow down.” The blonde chuckles. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I find all of those things endearing. Now, the amount of times I’ve seen my teammates slip and fall on their faces while chasing an enemy? That’s embarrassing. Just the other day, Buck tripped on the roof of a car. Sam has it recorded.”

You let out a laugh at that and nod. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all insecure on you-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Steve insists. “Now,” he stands and offers his hand. “Let’s go get some lunch, yeah?”

You look at his hand before looking up at him and taking it without hesitation. “Okay.”

* * * * * * * *

After rounds of questions during lunch, Steve took you around the Smithsonian to all the different museums. Just like history, you had never been overly fond of museums. You typically walked around for a little bit, never really reading the information, only enjoying the pictures.

It’s different with Steve. Just like how it was different writing the research paper with him. He makes everything interesting, telling you his own facts and stories. Especially once you get to his exhibit in the Air and Space Museum.

Once you arrive, he puts on a hat and ducks his head, trying not to bring attention to you both while on a date. You tease him a bit, swinging your linked hands as you walk in with a cheeky grin. He nudges you with his elbow, his own smile painted on his lips.

You can’t help but listen and hold onto his every word, as if you’d die if you forget a single sentence. The light in his eyes as he talks about his past, showing you the pictures and plaques excitedly. Like a child during show and tell, he’s practically skipping from exhibit to exhibit, dragging you along behind him.

Giggling at his elation, you eagerly, and with no resistance, let him take you through his story. “They keep updating it.” He explains as you leave the area with World War Two and the Howling Commandos, entering through a corridor with modern pictures of him and the Avengers. “Every couple years or so they call me and tell me they’re adding another thing.”

“Doesn’t that get annoying?” You wonder, reading a wall about the Battle of Manhattan with interest. “Your whole life being put on display for everyone to see?”

Steve shrugs. “I dunno. I’ve never really minded. They don’t put in personal things, so it’s not too bad. You could learn more from the internet about me.”

You nod, knowing how true that really was. “You’ve got a point. Still. It must be a bit weird being a national icon.”

“I’ll admit, people stopping me on the street is getting a little old. I used to wish to be someone who changed the world. Now I have and sometimes I wish I could be normal. But I wouldn’t change what I’ve done. Who I am. Not if people can learn from it. Not if I can keep people safe.”

Turning away from the wall to glance at Steve, who has his hands in his pockets studying the wall, you smile and tilt your head. “You’re a good man, Steve Rogers.”

He turns to you, his lips pulling up. “That’s all I hope for.” His voice is quiet, earnest, before it becomes lighter as he gestures back to the wall. “You know the first thing we did after winning was go out for shawarma? It was Tony’s idea.”

“No way.” You laugh. “All six of you?”

“Yeah! We go there for every Battle of Manhattan Anniversary, now. I’ll take you some time. It’s a nice place.”

“Is that a promise?”

He smirks at your teasing tone. “Absolutely.”

* * * * * * * *

After your museum hopping, he takes you to Arlington Cemetery to show you a few friends and fellow soldiers he met all those years ago. It’s such a personal intimate thing that he shares, and you think you shouldn’t be there to witness it, but he’s quick to reassure you that’s not the case. That he wouldn’t have anyone else by his side, listening to his stories.

By the time you get back to the city, it’s getting dark, so you two head out for dinner before Steve takes you up the Washington Monument to look at the city lights. He makes sure you have the top all to yourselves; there’s perks of being an Avenger - especially one of the leaders.

“Alright, alright.” Leaning on the rail, you turn to him with a smile. “So maybe history isn’t as bad as I originally thought.”

“Yeah? I convinced you, did I?”

You roll your eyes at his smirk, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Maybe a bit. But only when you’re telling it. You think there’s any way you could come to history with me?” You joke with a laugh, feeling yourself flush at the chuckle and grin he gives you.

“I wish I could, honey.” He spoke softly, running a thumb over your knuckles. “Unfortunately, I’ve got work to do. I’m heading back to New York tomorrow. I’ll be back on Friday, though. If you would want to-”

You beam and nod energetically. “I’d love to go out again, Stevie.”

Giving your hand a squeeze, he beams back. “Fantastic.” He looks back out to the window and gives a little sigh. “It’s gettin’ late and you’ve got class tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I should probably get going. Do you, I mean, would you mind walking me home?” You blink up at him through your lashes hopefully.

“Of course!” His eyes - which you found throughout the day weren’t entirely blue, but had some green hues to them - lit up as you two start towards the elevator. He tucks you under his strong arm, pulling you close. “You wanna get ice cream or something on the way?”

“You read my mind, Captain.”

* * * * * * * *

By the time you reach your door, you’ve both finished your ice cream and he’s telling yet another story while you laugh, once again swinging your linked hands. 

When it comes time to say goodbye, you can’t help but wish your hand could stay in his for a while longer. Knowing that you’d be saying farewell, you hold on a bit tighter. “Pick me up on Friday?”

He nods, squeezing your hand before letting it go and brushing his fingertips along your cheek. “I’ll call you later too, alright, sweetheart?”

“Okay.” You agree eagerly. “You gonna kiss me goodnight now, soldier?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles softly, before gently grabbing your chin. Using his other hand, he pulls you closer by the waist, pressing his lips to yours. It’s soft and sweet and perfect, just like him, but it ends too quickly for your liking. He pulls back, nudging his nose against yours, and murmuring against your lips. “Sleep well.”

You smile, leaning your forehead against his. “Good night, Stevie.”

Stepping away, he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “G’night.”

You stop him before he could turn all the way. “Steve?” He pauses to look over his shoulder at you with an eyebrow raised. You have a question, and you can’t help but ask it, it having been on your mind for days. “Why’d you stop your run just to sit by me?”

“And leave a beautiful dame like yourself before I could get your name? I may be a super soldier, honey, but I’m still a man. Abyssinia Friday, Y/N.”

[wisteriashouse]

caged songbird.

pairing: kamado tanjirou x sumiyuri hayami (oc)

genre: genshin!au

word count: 10218

a/n: thank you @hinokami-s​ for trusting me with your commission! i’m sorry that this one took really long to write but i hope you are satisfied with the results!!

The cherry blossoms of Inazuma bloom all year round.

Tanjirou has seen many wondrous trees on his travels through the world of Teyvat, from the great oak growing on Windrise, where the Falcon of the West Vanessa was said to have ascended to Celestia, to the ancient Dragon Queller suppressing Azhdaha’s eroding form in Nantianmen. As breathtaking and beautiful as they have been, however, Tanjirou still finds himself spellbound as he walks under the pink petals falling over the outskirts of Hanamizaka. There’s a soft, subtle fragrance that lingers in the air, tinged with the slightest whiff of lightning and ozone, and when Tanjirou allows the power of Electro to course through his fingertips, the petals gather in the palm of his hand as though drawn to it. A characteristic unique, he has learnt, only to the blooms that flower on the boughs of the Sacred Sakura.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Tanjirou holds up a handful of bright pink petals, the same shade as Nezuko’s eyes, and his younger sister tosses them excitedly into the air to watch them drift down once again. “You always did like pretty things.”

Nezuko responds with a series of happy noises, zooming around his head so fast that he almost goes dizzy for a moment. “Yes, yes, I’ll get you some more to play with later. For now, however, I think we should head to the Kamisato Estate to see how Ayaka is doing after that incident…”

All of a sudden, his younger sister’s eyes light up, before she zooms off in the direction of Hanamizaka’s great cherry blossom tree. She’d always been the faster one between them when they were growing up, but after their encounter with the Unknown God, Nezuko has become too fast for Tanjirou to keep up with. Still, it’s nice to see her so enthusiastic even in this reduced form, Tanjirou thinks, and so follows after her indulgently.

At first, he’s at a loss to what could have captured his sister’s attention this time, but just as he steps into a clearing, stray droplets of water drift through the air and past the tip of his nose. Gathering under the branches, they coalesce together in mid air, turning and twisting, and when they catch the afternoon sunlight just right, they resemble glowing iridescent crystals suspended in time.

“Hydro…?” He’s no stranger to the blue, rippling energy he’s seeing right now. Tartaglia — or Childe, he supposes — had displayed near terrifying mastery over his Vision during their fight at the Golden House. But while Childe’s manifestation of his power had been fierce and unbridled, like a wild, rushing river, the Hydro energy he’s seeing sparkles in the light and refreshes the soul, like blessed rain after a long drought.

When he reaches out, however, the water droplets dart between his fingertips. His gaze follows the path they take, and his eyes come to rest on the small crowd under the giant cherry tree.

The cause for all the attention seems to be a young woman in the middle of the gathering. Even from this distance, Tanjirou can hear her voice ringing out as she sings what seems to be a traditional Inazuman song, her wrists and arms bending while she takes small, fluttering steps, giving the impression that she’s floating over the ground. It’s not quite the same as the dance that Ayaka had gifted him as a performance, but is equally as captivating in other ways he can’t describe. Even Nezuko seems to be spellbound by the sight, finally coming to a rest atop his head as she watches the dance.

As the young lady continues to move to the song she’s singing, blue glimmers — hydro energy! — bubble up from her fingertips to form little animals of all sorts which hop and jump through the air to interact with the audience. One child laughs excitedly as the rabbit leaps over his palms, leaving a small puddle in his hands, while others race after the Hydro birds that flutter above their heads, just out of reach. Their joy and excitement is infectious, and Tanjirou can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth as he watches them play and run around in the evening sun.

The young woman performing must feel the same way as well, because her singing is briefly interrupted by the slightest giggle before it picks up in volume once again. Her own happiness is almost as palpable as the children’s, pure and unrestrained in a way that he’s found far too uncommon in the reserved land of Inazuma.

Tanjirou finds himself watching until the sun is dipping behind the horizon, the evening light orange and syrupy as honey. Only when the crowd is dispersing and parents are beginning to pull their children away for their evening meal does he realise just how much time has already passed. With a quiet laugh to himself, he turns to look for his younger sister, feeling more relaxed than he has for a while now.

“That was beautiful, wasn’t it, Nezuko— wait, Nezuko?”

His younger sister is not, in fact, next to him like Tanjirou had last seen. Looking around frantically, Tanjirou tries to spot that familiar pink ribbon and bamboo muzzle, only to see her already flying circles around the lady who had been performing earlier, much to his alarm.

“Nezuko!” He breaks out into a run across the clearing, plucking Nezuko out of the air and into his arms. The young lady looks very shocked at the sight of a flying fairy (which isn’t unexpected, since flying fairies don’t seem to be a common sight around Teyvat), her eyes wide open and hands clasped delicately over her mouth. “I’m so, so sorry for scaring you. Nezuko can get a little excited sometimes, I’m sure she just got too excited after seeing your performance earlier.” He reaches down to pinch Nezuko’s cheek. “You should apologise for scaring the nice lady, Nezuko.”

His younger sister lets out a noise of regret, and blinks up at the lady with those big pink eyes. Nezuko had always been good at charming her way out of sticky situations when she was younger, but after being cursed by the Unknown God, the power of her puppy dog eyes seem to have only increased. It seems just as effective as ever, because the young lady’s expression immediately softens.

“No, no, it was not her fault. I was simply taken by surprise, that is all.” She gives Nezuko a warm smile, long platinum hair falling over one shoulder. Up close, he can see the vision hanging from her hip, glinting like a blue jewel in the evening sun. “So, your name is Nezuko, little one?”

Nezuko chirps happily in confirmation, which draws a quick laugh out of her. Tanjirou notes that her speech is very formal, similar to how Ayaka and Hiiragi Chisato had spoken to him. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Nezuko.” She turns to Tanjirou, lilac eyes sparkling with a hint of curiosity. “May I have the honour of knowing your name as well?”

“I’m Kamado Tanjirou, a humble traveller,” he introduces himself with a bow of the head and a gentle smile. “I’m also Nezuko’s older brother.”

For the second time that day, the lady looks visibly shocked. “Older brother?” She gasps softly, before clapping both hands over her mouth, flustered. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to sound rude. I simply—”

“It’s quite alright,” Tanjirou laughs. The first time he’d told Amber that Nezuko was his younger sister, the young Outrider had thought that Kaeya had put him up to a prank. “My sister was placed under some magic, which is why she appears in the form that you currently see. I assure you that I’m not about to sprout wings and start flying as well.”

At his words, a little giggle escapes her, the line of her shoulders easing ever so slightly. “Well, that is reassuring to know, Kamado-san.” Folding her hands, she gives him a bow, polite and graceful. “Please, just call me Hayami. Is this perhaps your first time in Hanamizaka? I visit the children here every few weeks when my schedule allows, but this is the first time I’ve seen you and your younger sister.”

The way she leaves out her family name does not escape Tanjirou’s notice, but he’s far too polite to pry. Everyone is entitled to their own secrets, including him.

“I’m afraid I’m just a simple traveler.” Tanjirou smiles at her. While the question seems innocent enough, being an outlander in a country under the Sakoku Decree raises far too much suspicion that he’d rather go without. “It was my first time seeing such a beautiful performance with Hydro energy! You must have amazing control over your Vision to be able to create so many animals simultaneously. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“I realise that you’re a flatterer, Kamado-san.” Hayami looks just a touch flustered, gentle pink spreading across her cheeks — or perhaps that might just be the blush of the setting sun? — but Tanjirou can see the smile she’s fighting back, turning up the corners of her mouth. “It’s a little spin of my own that I put on a traditional Inazuman dance. It used to be a rather common sight until, well…”

The Vision Hunt Decree goes unsaid. Now that he thinks about it, Tanjirou actually realises that he rarely sees anyone using their Visions so openly in Inazuma. Probably because they were hiding them from the Shogunate or carrying about fake glass Visions, just as Yoimiya had said.

Tanjirou has seen the effects of having one’s Vision ripped from its holder firsthand — the empty, hollow eyes and the deadened monotone of their voices — and he wouldn’t wish them on even his worst enemy. Just as Thoma and Ayaka had said, the Raiden Shogun must have her eyes opened to the results of her fruitless chase after eternity, and the Vision Hunt Decree abolished.

But to say so out loud would probably be considered treason against the Bakufu Shogunate, and as pleasant as Hayami has been, he still doesn’t know her well, so Tanjirou settles for a ‘that’s a pity’ instead. For a second, Hayami glances at him out of the corner of her eye, a brief analytical look, and from that alone Tanjirou knows he made the right choice of words.

The lady in front of him is most likely associated with the Tenryou Commission, like Kujou Sara, or at the very least a Shogunate sympathiser. Now that he thinks about it, that would explain why she’s so bold with using her Vision out in the open.

Kaeya would be proud of such a detailed analysis.

“Yes, it’s a pity,” Hayami agrees, and Tanjirou can’t quite place his finger on the tone she’s using. But it doesn’t sound as though she’s too enthusiastic about the Vision Hunt, which throws him off just a little. Maybe he’s misjudged her? “I haven’t been back to Inazuma City for a while though, do you know if there have been any major incidents with the Vision Hunt Deree going on? Or if there’s been any—”

“There you are, Tanjirou!”

Tanjirou has only begun to turn around when an arm slings itself over his shoulders, much to his surprise. Said arm is attached to a sweaty and rosy cheeked Thoma, who looks as though he’s just run here all the way from the Kamisato Estate.

“Thoma? What’s the matter—”

“I’ve been looking for you all day!” Thoma says with a laugh and a brightness that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Milady was thinking about trying out that ‘pizza’ you showed her the other day, so she sent me out to look for you. Apologies for the interruption, General Sumiyuri, but if you would allow me to steal Tanjirou away...”

For a moment, the word ‘General’ confuses Tanjirou — what general is Thoma talking to, is it some sort of code word — before he remembers that Hayami had never told him what her family name was.

Oh. Oh.

“I wasn’t aware of Lady Kamisato’s penchant for making foreign treats,” Hayami — no, General Sumiyuri says mildly, and although her expression hasn’t changed in the slightest, Tanjirou can hear firm steel in her voice that wasn’t there earlier. From the way Thoma’s arm tightens around his shoulder, the two don’t seem to be on very friendly terms. “I must make sure to bring some with me the next time I visit the Yashiro Commission.”

To Thoma’s credit, he maintains his easygoing smile under General Sumiyuri’s piercing stare. “That sounds lovely. Milady loves trying exotic foods.”

General Sumiyuri eyes Thoma for a second longer before she turns her gaze back to Tanjirou, her lilac eyes softening almost imperceptibly. “And Tanjirou, Nezuko, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you around some time, if fate allows it.” She pauses for a moment, and Tanjirou feels his mouth go dry. His sister picks up on his unease, ducking behind his shoulder. “Don’t go around getting into trouble in Inazuma, hm?”

The words sound enough like a friendly reminder, but with the knowledge of her identity, Tanjirou can tell it’s a warning. “The pleasure was mine, Haya— I mean, General Sumiyuri.” He eases the tense line of his lips into what he hopes is a sincere enough smile. “I assure you I won’t go looking for trouble.”

The trouble looks for me, he wants to add on, but decides to keep his mouth shut as Thoma practically manhandles him away, Nezuko flying after the two of them. Only when they’re in the privacy of Komore Teahouse does Thoma slump onto a cushion and let out a massive sigh of relief. “For a second there, I really thought you were gonna get carted away by the Shogunate. You wouldn’t believe how fast I ran when Yoimiya let me know just who you ran into.”

Tanjirou looks around, slightly bewildered. “I don’t see Ayaka here.”

“That was a cover, Tanjirou.”

“Ah.”

“But seriously,” Thoma lifts the teapot and pours out three cups of steaming tea, before pushing one over to Tanjirou. “How did you end up with General Sumiyuri Hayami, of all people? Did she come to question you, or something along those lines?”

“She was playing with some of the village children at Hanamizaka,” Tanjirou explains, taking the cup. “And she didn’t exactly seem like a General when I met her. I think she might have been trying to pry for information, but I didn’t let anything slip.”

Thoma exhales, the tense line of his shoulders easing. “That’s good… The Tenryou Commission has been busy lately, and my inside contacts tell me they’ve been trying to identify the person who broke into the Police Station. If she and General Kujou were just a little closer, we would have to ship you off to Watatsumi tonight.”

Tanjirou swallows, wrapping both hands around the porcelain. The warmth of the tea seeps into his fingers, taking the anxious edge off his nerves. While he’s used to dealing with the unexpected on his travels, both Liyue and Mondstadt had been so welcoming that he’d grown used to letting his guard down. “I’ll be more careful next time around strangers.”

Thoma looks at him for a long while, before he sighs and raises his teacup again. “Look, don’t get me wrong. General Sumiyuri is… a good person, so I don’t want you to have a bad impression of her. She’s lost people she cares about to the Shogun’s Vision Hunt Decree as well. Personally, I think that her loyalty to the Shogunate is because of her family’s position, but I’m in no position to assume anything. Just… keep that in mind.”

Tanjirou looks down into the tea cup in his hands, and remembers the laughing, dancing woman under the cherry blossoms of Hanamizaka.

“I will.”

The boat ride to the resistance stronghold is a quiet, sombre affair.

The resistance stronghold on Yashiori Island is a considerable distance and accessible only by the sea, so Ayaka and Thoma sneak him out of Narukami Island under the cover of darkness on a moonless night. As the small waverider pulls away from the shore, Tanjirou gazes up at the shadow of Tenshukaku looming over the waters. Somehow, it feels as though the Shogun’s gaze hasn’t left him at all, even when Narukami Island disappears from sight.

Tanjirou can still feel the electricity crackling through his body, and smell the singe of charred hair and skin. When he closes his eyes, the blood red sky of the Raiden Shogun’s domain appears in his mind, the pressure of an ever watchful gaze on him.

The eyes of the Thousand-Armed, Hundred-Eyed God are empty and unfeeling as they watch him lie limp on the ground, and Thoma’s yells of panic are hoarse with desperation. Tanjirou cannot muster the strength to open his eyes, but the sharp scent of ozone chokes the air from his lungs and the crackling of lightning accompanying footsteps only seems to grow louder. There’s a hand on his shoulder shaking him, and he cannot die here, because he has a sister to protect and to turn back, but the lightning is only drawing closer and—

—he startles awake to see Nezuko hovering above him, her pink eyes filled with visible worry.

Right. He’s on board a waverider, its course set for the stronghold of the Sangonomiya Resistance, Fort Fujitou. When he looks out of the window, the only thing he can see is the eerie purple glow of Tatarasuna in the distance as the boat skims over the waves. Returning to his seat, Tanjirou wraps himself back in his travelling blanket, trying to keep his nerves at bay. He can still feel that eye on his back, still watching, still waiting…

“Mmm!” Nezuko waves her arms to catch his attention, brows furrowed. “Mmmhmm!”

Tanjirou translates that into ‘are you alright?’ It’s no surprise that Nezuko is still on edge as well. After what happened at the Vision Seizing Ceremony, he’d be more surprised if his sensitive younger sister weren’t affected by it.

“Yes, I’m quite alright, Nezuko. Just a bad dream, that’s all.” He reaches out and rests one hand on top of her fluffy hair, both to comfort her and calm his own racing heartbeat. “No need to worry, we’ll be at the resistance stronghold soon, where the Raiden Shogun can’t reach. We’ll be safe there.”

Nezuko buries herself in his arms, and Tanjirou strokes her hair until she falls asleep there. Lulled by the steady rocking of the waverider, Tanjirou drifts off after her as well. When he rouses once more, the sun is already starting to rise over the water’s edge, and Nezuko seems to have already pilfered his bag for her favourite snack, stuffing her mouth with konpeito.

“That’s not a proper breakfast food, Nezuko,” Tanjirou chides lightly, but decides to let it go just this once in view of yesterday’s events. Instead, he pulls out his own breakfast — a simple umeboshi onigiri — and turns to watch as the waverider continues to speed over the waves

He disembarks the waverider at Nazuchi Beach, intending to continue to Fort Fujitou on foot as per Thoma’s instructions, but the second the tip of his shoes touch soft sand, he hears a cry of help.

Whipping around, Tanjirou turns to see a young man in a uniform he doesn’t recognise, and more importantly, being kicked to the ground by two Shogunate soldiers with his weapon a few feet from him. Although he doesn’t know who the victim is, no helpless person deserves to be treated in that manner, so Tanjirou draws his own sword.

“Nezuko, hide,” is all he says before he flies into action, launching himself against the soldiers.

A burst of anemo sends the two of them flying back. Before either can react, Tanjirou presses up with his sword, not giving them any time to gain their bearings. One crashes to the ground, while the other manages to block the hit with his own sword.

“Another of the resistance?” He snarls through gritted teeth, and Tanjirou sucks in a gasp when he catches sight of a Hydro Vision on the man’s hip. He ducks sharply when a slash of Hydro energy comes his way, but the second strike he blocks.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Tanjirou tries to say as reasonably as possible, but the man doesn’t seem to want to listen. Instead, he lunges again and aims for Tanjirou’s neck without holding back.

Sighing, Tanjirou allows Electro energy to crackle over his palm, spinning out of the way of the attack before putting his hand on the soldier. The towering mountain of a man collapses in an instant like a puppet with its strings cut.

Tanjirou turns to look for the other soldier. “Now, as for you…” His eyes widen when he sees that the other soldier has drawn a bow from somewhere and already has an arrow nocked. It’s not aimed at him, but instead at…

The arrow flies towards its target, straight and true. The young man on the ground scrambles back, eyes squeezing shut as death approaches, but Tanjirou throws his arm out, and a pillar of condensed Geo energy bursts out of the ground to take the projectile instead.

“T-thank… Geo… Electro… h-huh?” The man gets out between gasps, but Tanjirou immediately whirls back to look at the Shogunate soldier, who’s already drawing back another arrow. Before he can release it, however, a massive flaming blade comes out of nowhere and cuts the soldier’s bow clean in half.

Tanjirou doesn’t even have time to feel surprised when a hand follows up with a strike to the neck, and just like his fellow comrade, the soldier crumples to the beach with a gasp. Behind him stands a man with fiery red and yellow hair, dressed in armour and a haori with flames patterned at the hem. In his hand is a claymore, which he’s wielding as easily as a single-handed sword, the steel a glowing gold from the heat of the flames. The thing that stands out to Tanjirou the most, however, is the effusive smile on his face, completely out of place on a battlefield such as this.

“General Rengoku!” The man he’d saved struggles to stand, and Tanjirou moves to help him to his feet. “What are you doing here at the front lines?”

The man he’d called General Rengoku just laughs merrily as he strides over to them, extinguishing his claymore with a flick of the wrist. Now that Tanjirou has a proper chance to look, he can see the fiery Vision glowing crimson on his hip.

“General Gorou heard that some commotion was going on at Nazuchi Beach and asked if I could investigate, but I didn’t expect to see you running into trouble like this, Teppei!” Teppei flushes all the way up to his ears, while Tanjirou takes a step back. The General’s voice is loud, but not in an unpleasant way. “Thank you for saving one of my men!”

Tanjirou startles when he realises that the General is talking to him. He allows his sword to fade away to show he means no harm, inclining his head politely to the man. “It was no problem at all, really. I just did what anyone else would have done in my position.”

Teppei shakes his head vigorously. “No, no, you practically saved my life back there! If you hadn’t come, I’d probably be turned into sliced sashimi right now.” He squints at Tanjirou, frowning. “You’re not dressed like one of the resistance, though. Have you come looking to sign up?”

Tanjirou nods. “I have. I was heading to Fort Fujitou to meet with the person in charge when I ran into you.”

“That’s great!” Teppei looks like he’s about to burst out of his armour with excitement. “Just yesterday, I heard General Gorou complaining about how desperate we are for more people. With the support of such an amazing fighter on our side, you’ll definitely make a huge difference. Let me escort you back to our camp, I—”

General Rengoku cuts in with a hand on his shoulder. “Your arm is bleeding, Teppei!”

The soldier lets out a yelp when he catches sight of the shallow cut on his arm. “Oh, ouch! I didn’t notice it, I…” He glances back at Tanjirou, and then at his general.

“See yourself to the field hospital, Teppei!” The general says with a booming laugh, amusement in his eyes. “Your health comes first, I’ll bring him to our camp once I’m done confirming some things with him.”

At that, Teppei relaxes, smiling brightly again. “Then I’ll leave you to it, General! And thank you once again for saving me, mysterious saviour!”

“My name is Kamado Tanjirou!” Tanjirou calls after him as he sets off at a quick pace. General Rengoku turns to look at him with a smile. “So, Kamado-shounen, you’ve come to join the resistance?”

Tanjirou is a little taken aback by the man’s enthusiasm, but it’s not something he doesn’t like, especially in such a solemn and reserved country. “I have some… disagreements with the way the Raiden Shogun chooses to pursue eternity,” He explains, and General Rengoku nods empathetically. “So I thought I’d lend a hand to the resistance.”

“I saw that you have great control over the elements! It’s very impressive, considering how young you look!” Tanjirou feels a warm hand rest on top of his head. The touch is so reassuring that Tanjirou feels as though all his troubles have just vanished for a moment. “Still, I do not think I’ve ever seen someone wield more than one element, let alone three different elements. Do you have multiple Visions on you, Kamado-shounen?”

Tanjirou’s cheeks flush slightly from the praise, but shakes his head. Most of the time, he’d prefer not to tell people too much about his ability to resonate with Statues of the Seven, but it feels all too easy to tell everything to this warm general. “I have an ability to use elements when I touch Statues of the Seven. So far I’ve only been to three countries in Teyvat, so I only have three elements at the moment.”

He says this as easily as possible, but watches General Rengoku out of the corner of his eye. Tanjirou isn’t too sure how he’ll react — most of the people who know that he can manipulate more than one element are either friends he’s known for awhile (or just battle-hungry Tartaglia who wouldn’t care if he had three arms as long as it made the fight more entertaining) — it could be both positive or negative.

“That’s fantastic! I think you’ll be a wonderful asset to the resistance.” General Rengoku smiles so brightly that Tanjirou almost questions whether the sun in the sky is embarrassed by it. He can’t help the shy smile that forms on his face. So, a positive reaction. That’s a relief… “Would you mind having a fight with me?”

Tanjirou’s smile turns a bit nervous. “Fight with… you, General Rengoku?” Archons above, not another Tartaglia, please…

General Rengoku lets out another one of those loud, booming laughs, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be nervous, Kamado-shounen. Since you’re looking to join the resistance, I’d like to assess your martial capabilities through a spar. Besides,” he gives Tanjirou a large grin, “how a person fights tells you a lot about their character. Since we don’t have a lot of time to get to know each other, let’s do that by crossing blades!”

So he’s not another Tartaglia. Tanjirou breathes a quiet sigh of relief, before drawing his sword. While the request might seem a little eccentric, Tanjirou doesn’t see anything that he disagrees with. “You’re not wrong,” he gives the General a smile. “Let’s do it, then.”

General Rengoku grins broadly, as his claymore materialises in his hand. “It’s my honour, Kamado-shounen!”

Five duels later, Tanjirou is flat on his back in the sand and panting for breath. General Rengoku puts away his claymore and approaches him wearing a huge grin, reaching down to offer him a helping hand. “Four to one! Not bad at all, Kamado-shounen!”

Tanjirou looks up at him incredulously as he takes his hand. The general’s palm is scarred and calloused against his own. “Four to one is not bad? General Rengoku, you’re not giving yourself enough credit. I clearly still have a lot to learn.”

General Rengoku is a warm, friendly man, but Tanjirou has seen just how easily that warmth had turned into scorching heat. Aside from having seemingly limitless stamina and enough strength to wield a claymore like an ordinary sword, he’s surprisingly nimble on his feet and makes rapid decisions even in the heat of a fight. Adding on to that, his control over his Vision was stunning to watch.

“Surely you will do better against me once you travel to Fontaine and obtain mastery over Hydro,” General Rengoku smiles, not looking the least bit winded. “And it is not often I get to spar against someone else near my skill in swordplay. General Gorou is a strong fighter, but prefers a bow. It was a most satisfying experience, and I think that we will get along like a house on fire”

He squeezes Tanjirou’s shoulder with a grin.

“Welcome to the resistance, Kamado-shounen.”

Tanjirou’s showing a few recruits archery when their little training session is interrupted by the smell of roasted sweet potatoes.

“Senjurou!” Tanjirou greets the younger boy brightly as the soldiers race to devour the food that Senjurou has brought. The ever thoughtful boy has also prepared cups of green tea for them to wash down the snacks that he’s brought. “Thank you for the food, it’s really kind of you.”

Just like his older brother, Senjurou’s smile is radiant. “It’s no problem at all!” He chirps brightly, watching the hungry soldiers stuffing their mouths. “I’m really no good at anything related to fighting, so this is how I can contribute my part to the resistance effort, even if it’s not worth a lot.”

“Don’t say that,” Tanjirou begins to scold, but before he can say anything more, a large hand settles atop of Senjurou’s head.

“Are those sweet potatoes?” General Rengoku asks, eyes bright as he reaches for one. “Thank you for making these, Senjurou. I’ve been hungry for the whole day now.”

“Brother!” Senjurou looks up at his older brother with adoring eyes. Tanjirou smiles fondly at the two of them, eyes instinctively searching for Nezuko until he spots her trying to tug arrows from the training dummies. Tanjirou holds back a small laugh. In her own way, Nezuko is trying to help as well.

The lighthearted atmosphere is soon broken, however, by the arrival of a resistance soldier hurrying to the training grounds.

“General Rengoku! General Rengoku!” His uniform is drenched with sweat, and there’s a note of panic in his voice. “The Shogun’s Army is attacking, led by General Kujou Sara herself! General Gorou is requesting your assistance at the front lines now!”

The rest of the soldiers immediately break into frightened, hushed whispers. The thought that the Shogun’s Army has already made it all the way here, with General Kujou Sara leading the confrontation no less…

“Understood!” General Rengoku rises to his feet. Although the situation is tense, the General’s smile has not faltered one bit, and it gives confidence to the rest of the soldiers with them. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“G-general, we can fight too!” One of the soldiers he was teaching to shoot earlier — Masashi, if he remembers correctly — steps forward. “If we get our weapons now, we can assist you, General Rengoku!”

Tanjirou knows that most of them are relatively new recruits, still wet behind the ears, and not at all ready for a confrontation with the Shogun’s Army. The recruits are brave, courageous, yes, but they would only get hurt if they go onto the battlefield now. Still, trying to dissuade them would cost valuable time…

“I need reliable soldiers to guard the fort while I head down to the front lines! If both Generals are at the battlefield, I do not know if the Shogun’s Army will attempt an attack on our stronghold while I am away!” General Rengoku says with a bright grin. “Masashi, I need you and the rest watching over the fort. Understood?”

Masashi looks like he’s caught between wanting to protest and sighing in relief, but eventually nods with a quick bow and runs off to organise the rest of the men. “Kamado-shounen, you will come with me! Your skills would be more useful on the battlefield.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

Travelling by foot would be too slow, so the two of them glide across Musoujin Gorge with their wind gliders before running over to Nazuchi Beach, where the front lines are stationed. Fortunately for them, it seems that the battle has not begun, both parties with their weapons at the ready in a tense standoff on the sandy strip of beach.

Unfortunately for them, however, even from this distance Tanjirou can see that the Shogun’s forces outnumber the resistance’s. And they seem to be demanding for him.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the arrest warrants,” Kujou Sara is saying. “I trust that the Traveler is somewhere among your forces now. I will make you a deal. Hand him over and you’ll buy yourself some time for your forces to heal. A respite from this bloodshed would be advantageous to both sides, would it not?”

Gorou sounds like he’s about to start snarling. “So that’s why you brought reinforcements. So that you could—”

“He’s expendable to the resistance, is he not? He’s barely been among you for a few weeks.”

Tanjirou makes a face (that’s not a very nice thing to say, General Kujou), and General Rengoku catches sight of it. “I’m fine,” Tanjirou mouths, but the man takes none of it. Before Tanjirou can convince him otherwise, General Rengoku steps out to the front of the resistance troops to stand beside Gorou.

“That’s where you’re wrong, General Sara!” He laughs, looking not the least bit worried about the situation that they’re currently in. “Kamado-shounen is a resistance member through and through. We won’t be surrendering him to you, I’m afraid.”

General Kujou presses her lips into a thin line, but to Tanjirou’s surprise, she doesn’t look too displeased at General Rengoku’s sudden appearance. Instead, she just looks… tired and exasperated. “Rengoku-san, I must ask again that you refrain from calling me by name after you defected from the Shogun’s Army.”

Tanjirou’s eyes widen at that. General Rengoku defected from the Shogun’s Army?

“General Rengoku is right,” Gorou adds, folding his arms across his chest. “Kamado Tanjirou is a comrade. The resistance never betrays its own, and Her Excellency has made that clear to everyone from the very beginning.”

The tengu general lets out a sigh at their words, but before she can say anything else, Tanjirou decides to announce his presence by stepping up next to the two generals. “And I’ll be sure to fulfil my responsibilities as one of the resistance.”

To Kujou Sara’s credit, she doesn’t look surprised to see him there. “The fact that you choose to show up here proves that you have more bravery in you than I originally thought. And now that you are here, I have a proposal… why not represent the resistance in a fight of honour?”

Gorou shakes his head. “You’re just trying to create an opportunity to capture him!”

“But it would be a huge boost in morale to your troops, wouldn’t it?” Kujou Sara shrugs, looking completely unbothered by Gorou’s accusations. Her piercing golden eyes come to rest on Tanjirou. “So, what will your choice be, Traveler?”

Tanjirou considers this very carefully. He can hold his own in a fight, and it’s true that the resistance troops could use a boost in morale. They’ve been doing their best to hold off wave after wave of soldiers from retaking Tatarasuna, and many of their friends or comrades are lying in the field hospital, injured.

“Don’t worry,” Tanjirou murmurs to Gorou. “I won’t lose.”

“That’s not really what I’m worried about,” Gorou begins to say, but Tanjirou has already stepped out from the ranks to face Kujou Sara. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Tanjirou steels himself and summons his blade into his hand.

“Face me, then.”

Kujou Sara, however, shakes her head. “I am not the one who will be facing you. Instead…” she steps to the side, and Tanjirou’s eyes widen to see a vaguely familiar face standing behind her, “General Sumiyuri will be the one to challenge you instead.”

A pair of lilac eyes meet his, cold and bordering on emotionless, unlike the warm, friendly woman he had met in Hanamizaka just a few weeks ago. General Sumiyuri’s long platinum hair is done up and out of her face with an ornamental hairpin, her armour and pauldrons stamped with the insignia of the Raiden Shogun’s army. And with the massive claymore in her hand, she looks every bit a warrior ready for battle.

Still, there’s a subtle downward turn to her mouth and a slight pinch to her brows that makes Tanjirou just a little hopeful. What she says next, however, makes it feel like cold water is being dumped down the back of his shirt.

“I did warn you not to go looking for any trouble while you were in Inazuma, Kamado-san,” General Sumiyuri steps forward, lifting her weapon with ease. The Hydro energy that had once been used to bring joy to the village children now swirls around her blade, imbuing it with a rippling blue glow.

“The honour of the Almighty Shogun is in your hands now, General Sumiyuri,” Kujou Sara calls, taking a step back. Just like that, only the two of them are left in the narrow strip of beach between the two clashing forces. The weight of all the gazes on the two of them is suffocating, but in that moment, it feels as though they are the only ones who exist in the world.

Tanjirou swallows, fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. “I’m afraid trouble is the one that comes looking for me,” he says. Both of them are circling each other without attacking, like some sort of tango, but the way their gazes meet in the middle is piercing enough to cut through stone. “General Sumiyuri— no, Hayami, I can see that you don’t want to do this.”

For a moment, Hayami’s eyes falter, but before Tanjirou can even breathe a sigh of relief, they instantly harden once again.

“You see wrong,” is all she says, before she lunges at him.

The way General Sumiyuri Hayami fights is as captivating to watch as her dance, in how her claymore swings in perfectly controlled arcs as her feet dart over the ground. Each step is graceful and elegant, as though the massive weapon she’s hefting is weightless in her hands, and the fierce determination burning in her eyes does not waver.

Tanjirou blocks a slash of Hydro with his sword and ducks beneath another, throwing out just enough Electro energy to stun, not incapacitate. Much to his surprise, however, the General almost seems to vanish in the blink of an eye right before him. Tanjirou is still looking around for a sign to where she could have gone when she reappears behind him in a flash of blue, the edge of her claymore already dangerously close to his neck.

If Tanjirou’s battle reflexes were just a little less well honed than they are, he would have received far worse than the shallow cut on his cheek. Retreating back a few steps, Tanjirou compresses the Anemo energy within him until it’s on the verge of bursting free. When he releases it, the Anemo energy takes on the form of a twisting tornado that throws the General off balance.

He follows up with another attack. General Sumiyuri dances out of its path and lunges. Tanjirou spins, narrowly avoiding the huge blade, and slashes with his own sword.

Sparks fly as their blades lock, steel grinding against steel. Normally, no sword would be able to hold out against the full weight of a claymore, but this dull blade has been a trusty companion on Tanjirou’s travels across Teyvat. Digging his feet into the ground, he presses back, arms stiff with the strain.

Caught in a stalemate, Tanjirou’s eyes meet General Sumiyuri’s, their gazes as immovable as their blades. Neither are willing to budge an inch.

“General,” Tanjirou whispers under his breath so that no one else can see, “surely you know that even your own Vision will be taken in the end, don’t you? Why do you still continue to fight for this cause?”

The general attempts to sweep his feet out from under him with a burst of Hydro, but is firmly blocked by a Geo formation Tanjirou summons from the ground. “I am loyal to the Shogun,” General Sumiyuri snaps at him, but there’s a hint of frustration in her eyes — whether it's regarding this battle or something else, Tanjirou doesn’t know. “I will obey her orders without question, no matter what they are.”

“No matter what they are?” Tanjirou questions, remembering what Thoma had told him in Komore Teahouse. “Even if they get people you care about hurt?”

Thoma really hadn’t elaborated much about how the General had been affected by the Vision Hunt Decree, but whatever Tanjirou says seems to cut straight to the General’s heart. For a second, General Sumiyuri’s mask of apathy almost cracks down the middle, her expression crumbling, before it’s replaced with what looks like fury.

“You dare?” General Sumiyuri hisses, forcing Tanjirou back with an explosion of Hydro energy that sends him stumbling back. “As if I have not tried to resist, and escape the shackles of my duty? As if I have not lost what was most dear to me already?”

Tanjirou manages to regain his footing and block the next slash coming his way. “And now, you’re doing the same to others, General?” He does feel bad for saying things like this, but it’s the truth, and the General needs to realise that.

Their blades clash in the middle again, both locked in an impasse. Before the General can reply, however, Kujou Sara speaks up.

“Stronger than I anticipated, Traveller… this contest has served its purpose.” Before Tanjirou can ask what purpose she’s talking about, she raises her bow into the air with a rallying shout. “Soldiers, attack! Glory to the Shogun, and her everlasting reign!”

“Everyone, to me!” He hears Gorou call from behind him, before the battlefield plunges into a whirlwind of violence and chaos. His eyes search for General Sumiyuri, but all he manages to catch sight of is the end of her long platinum hair before she vanishes into the ranks of the Shogun’s forces.

A heavy hand squeezes his shoulder, and he looks up to see General Rengoku looking at him later with a complicated expression on his face.

“Later,” is all he says, before he enters the fray as well in a blaze of fire. Nodding, Tanjirou pushes aside all thoughts of those vulnerable lilac eyes and leaps into the fight as well.

There are more important things at hand right now.

After the battle on Nazuchi Beach, Tanjirou is helping General Rengoku with a shallow cut on his forearm when the man speaks up, completely unprompted.

“So, what do you want to know, Kamado-shounen? I can feel your stare on me, you know.”

Tanjirou looks up at the man in surprise. “I didn’t know I was being so obvious,” he says, embarrassed, but the General only laughs. “I’m not sure… I feel like I might have said some hurtful words to Haya— I mean, General Sumiyuri that might have opened up some old wounds, but at the same time, if they help to convince her that the Shogun’s path is not right, then…”

General Rengoku pats him lightly on the head. “You’re a good person, Kamado-shounen, to worry about the feelings of even your enemies. I do agree with you — Hayami would be far more liberated if she were to defect and join the resistance like I did! Deep down, I believe that she wants to.”

He calls Hayami by name as well? “Right, I forgot that you defected as well, Rengoku-san.” Tanjirou finishes tying off the bandage and takes a seat next to the General, both of them watching over the fire in the middle of the fort. It’s rather quiet here, the rest of the soldiers either tending to their wounds or passed out from the tiring battle. “What happened to you that made you want to defect?”

The fiery general considers this for a moment, poking at the logs with a long stick. “The Rengoku family has been serving the Shogunate and the Tenryou Commission for generations. Our lineage has produced the finest Pyro wielders in this country since the days of the Archon War, and our loyalty is unshakeable. However,” he trails off, and it's the most contemplative Tanjirou has ever seen the general. “When the Sakoku Decree and the Vision Hunt Decree were put into place, we were forced to choose: our loyalty to the Shogun, or our loyalty to the people of Inazuma?” He tosses the stick into the fire, watching as it’s swallowed by the flames. “To me, the answer was obvious. It took a while to convince my father, but eventually we defected to the side of the resistance. Her Excellency and the people of Watatsumi have been nothing but kind to us.”

“The Vision Hunt Decree really does hurt the people of Inazuma, doesn’t it?” Tanjirou mutters quietly. General Rengoku nods.

“Hayami, on the other hand, is not as fortunate as I am,” he continues, expression more grave this time. “The Sumiyuri family is a clan with immense power and a lineage that runs as far back as my own, but their means to the influence and wealth they possess is something that I would never be able to abide. Their matriarch practically forced Hayami into her role as one of the Tenryou Commission’s generals to earn more favour in the Shogun’s eyes.”

Tanjirou blinks in shock. “That’s terrible, and no parent should ever do that to their own child. Can’t she refuse?”

The general shakes his head. “As powerful and highly ranked as General Sumiyuri is, she is still considered the daughter of the Sumiyuri family above that. If she were to go against them, tongues would wag. Not to mention that if she were to defect, there would be consequences for those involved with her, and…” he lets out a sigh, “Hayami has already lost enough people who are dear to her.”

So this is what Thoma had meant. That explains why she had reacted so strongly to his words during their duel earlier. “What happened?”

General Rengoku hesitates for a moment, but eventually speaks. “When I was still in the Shogunate, I knew Hayami well. She had a friend in the army just like her, named Gushiken Akari. In fact, they were so close that they were like sisters… if not something more. When the Vision Hunt Decree began, Akari challenged the Shogun to a duel before the throne.”

This story is starting to sound all too familiar. “And she lost,” Tanjirou mutters, now realising why General Sumiyuri had felt so reluctant yet so hopeless. General Rengoku’s silence is confirmation enough. While Kazuha had broken free of every bond and fled Inazuma with the Crux, Hayami had resigned herself to the situation.

The two of them sit in silence for a moment, before General Rengoku sighs. “I’d like for her to defect as well, but to ask her to go against her parents and her family… I don’t want to put her in a more difficult spot than she is already. Still…” he reaches into his sleeve, before slowly drawing something out. In the flickering light of the fire, Tanjirou recognises it as a splintered piece of wood, the edges singed black.

“... this is?”

“After I heard of Akari’s challenge, I headed straight to Tenshukaku to plead clemency on her behalf. By the time I got there, it was too late, and all I managed to find was this,” he places the piece of wood in Tanjirou’s palm, “a broken piece of Gushiken Akari’s naginata. The night I defected, I tried to convince Hayami to join me, but she staunchly refused. I didn’t want to hurt her any more than she already was, so I didn’t give this to her.”

Tanjirou looks down at the splintered piece of wood in his hand, fingers curling around it hesitantly. “So, why give it to me now?”

“Because you have a kind and pure soul,” General Rengoku says, and before Tanjirou can protest, continues, “and because I believe that you’ll be able to rescue Hayami. You’re an outlander, a traveller, are you not? While the rest of us may be bound by culture or to this land, you don’t have to submit to anything or anyone, and that’s exactly what Hayami needs.” He squeezes Tanjirou’s shoulder tightly.

“If you see her, please give that to her and ask her to listen to reason… and to her own heart.”

Kannazuka is eerily silent at night.

Kokomi had requested that Tanjirou head to the site of the Mikage Furnace to check some strange fluctuations, and as the only one with resistance to Tatarigami energy, he’s obligated to go. The trek across Nazuchi Beach and uphill to the Tatarasuna takes a while, but he’s grateful for the time to think and clear his mind in solitude.

While what General Rengoku shared tonight had made him rethink what he said during the duel, he’s only more determined than ever to put an end to this senseless internal conflict going on within Inazuma. But although the country would be a far more peaceful place with the Vision Hunt Decree abolished, Tanjirou realises that General Sumiyuri would still be trapped under the thumb of her parents and her clan.

“I believe you’ll be able to rescue Hayami.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Tanjirou sighs as he makes his way up to Tatarasuna. He’d like to help her too, but how can he possibly do that? And while they are both on opposing sides of a hostile war…

The moment he crests the hill, Tanjirou is met with the Statue of the Raiden Shogun and instantly gasps when he catches sight of the person standing before it. General Sumiyuri Hayami’s arms are crossed over her chest in thoughtful contemplation as she gazes upon the carved visage of the Raiden Shogun, although Tanjirou’s appearance causes her to whirl around.

“Kamado Tanjirou,” General Sumiyuri says calmly, although the claymore materialising in her hand is anything but. “You’re a wanted fugitive and charged with defying the order of the Almighty Shogun. I will be arresting you now.”

“You’re on resistance territory,” Tanjirou points out, Anemo energy gathering in his palm behind his back. If she attacks, he’ll have to make a quick getaway and report back to Kokomi. But just as Rengoku-san had said, there is a chance that she just might listen to reason.

General Sumiyuri gives him a look. “All of Inazuma belongs to the Raiden Shogun. Those who oppose her will soon be crushed by the Shogunate forces. Their resistance is hopeless.”

“And yet they fight on,” Tanjirou answers calmly, taking one step forward. General Sumiyuri does not move to attack, her lilac eyes trained on him. “Even though they have lost much, and know that they might lose more in resisting, they continue to do so. And you should too, Sumiyuri Hayami.”

Her eyes narrow. “You know something about me,” she says at last. “Did Rengoku-san say something that he shouldn’t have?”

“No, only what he should have.” Letting the Anemo energy in his hand dissipate, he reaches into his pocket slowly, General Sumiyuri’s eyes following every action. “He also entrusted this to me, and asked me to give it to you.”

For a moment, she simply stares at the fragmented piece of wood in Tanjirou’s outstretched hand, before recognition dawns on her. A myriad of emotions, despair, pain, grief, follows on its heels. “That’s…”

“What’s left of Gushiken Akari’s weapon,” Tanjirou explains. “And I’ll give it to you if you listen to me speak, just for a while. Whether you agree or not in the end, I’ll return it to you. It should belong to you, after all.”

General Sumiyuri’s eyes harden. “Or I could capture you right now and take it from you by force.”

“But you won’t.” Tanjirou’s playing a dangerous gamble here, but part of him believes that the laughing, dancing girl he saw beneath the cherry tree wasn’t an illusion. “Let’s talk, and I’ll return it to you.”

Seconds stretch out into minutes, and minutes stretch on into what seems like an eternity, before finally, General Sumiyuri allows her claymore to dissipate with a flick of the hand. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, Tanjirou returns his sword to where it came, leaving the both of them unarmed for a moment.

“Speak.”

Her eyes are still hard, unwavering. “I know that you don’t really want to obey the Raiden Shogun’s orders,” Tanjirou begins hesitantly, waiting for the General’s reaction. To his surprise, she does not deny this, just keeps watching him with those eyes. “You don’t want to take others’ Visions. I talked to some of the Resistance members who ran into you when fleeing from the Tenryou Commission, and some said that you turned a blind eye to their escapes. Why didn’t you defect together with Rengoku-san when he asked?”

General Sumiyuri crosses her arms over her chest, but her mouth is pulled into a tight line that reveals her true emotions. “The resistance has no chance of standing up to the might of the Shogun. As much as I hate to admit it, Kujou Sara is right. They’ve only held out for this long because of Sangonomiya Kokomi’s tactics and strategy, but they won’t be able to resist much longer. It’s a losing battle, Kamado-san.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Tanjirou points out. “Besides, while the Shogun’s Army might be stronger, is it a side you want to support? If it’s what you truly want, then I’ll hand this to you and leave. But it isn’t, is it?”

Her stare weighs heavy on him for a long, long while — Tanjirou counts that almost a full minute passses before she speaks again. “You presume much for someone I’ve only met once under non-hostile circumstances,” the general comments tonelessly, although her eyes say everything that her mouth doesn’t. Tanjirou is just about to make a run for it when she suddenly lets out a sigh. “Although, I suppose Rengoku-san always did say that if one is a good enough swordsman, just clashing blades once would be more than sufficient to learn about a person’s character.”

Tanjirou blinks in surprise at her bringing up General Rengoku, but that seems to put her a little more at ease. Her shoulders relax just the slightest, and she reaches up to tug at the end of her long hair — the first sign of discomfort or unsurety he’s seen from her.

“Sure, the resistance might succeed in getting the Raiden Shogun to abolish the Vision Hunt Decree, but will that prevent the Raiden Shogun from being the archon that presides over Inazuma?” The platinum blonde locks slip between her fingers. “There will surely be consequences for those who have defied the Shogun’s orders, and my family…” her fingers fall to twist so tightly into the fabric of her sleeves that her knuckles go white, “they will surely punish me for rebelling against the Shogunate.”

For a battle worn and staunch general to be so worried at the thought of her parents’ anger… Tanjirou can’t help the frisson of anger that runs through him. No child should ever fear their parents like this, and no parent should ever give them reason to.

“I know this might sound selfish, and even cowardly for a general. But these are my worries, Kamado Tanjirou. What exactly am I supposed to do after the war ends?” This time when General Sumiyuri’s eyes meet his, those lilac eyes are filled with sorrow, and a hint of vulnerability. For a moment, Tanjirou wonders if asking her to defect is the correct choice. “It’s not as simple as just defecting as and when I wish.”

While the rest of us may be bound by culture or to this land, you don’t have to submit to anything or anyone, and that’s exactly what Hayami needs.

He has an idea. It sounds preposterous, almost ridiculous to ask this of someone he’s barely met, but if it will set her free, then…

“After the war ends, regardless of which side wins…” Tanjirou begins, hesitant. “How does the idea of travelling across the Seven Nations with me sound to you?”

For a second, General Sumiyuri simply stares at him, unblinking, and Tanjirou worries if she might just remain unmoved by his offer. “Travelling across the Seven Nations… as your companion?”

“If you came with me on my travels, you’d never have to be under the control of your family ever again. You would be free to do whatever your heart desires.” When General Sumiyuri still doesn’t respond, Tanjirou continues, a little more desperate this time.

“You’d have to leave Inazuma, yes, but there’s so much to see in other nations.” He’s aware that he’s rambling, but if rambling would free this trapped songbird from her cage, then… “Mondstadt has a really amazing specialty wine that you can’t get here in Inazuma called Dandelion Wine, sold at this pub called the Angel’s Share. And there’s this cathedral and a huge statue of the Anemo Archon, Barbatos — you could stack up three Statues of the Seven beside it and it would still be taller! And—”

“I accept.”

“—Liyue has this festival every year called the Lantern Rite Festival, which is really really beautiful to see. They put hundreds, no, thousands of floating lanterns out to sea, and it looks as if all the stars have fallen to earth for one night!”

“Kamado-san, I accept—”

“And I’m sure that I could use an amazing fighter like you by my side. Things would have been so much easier if you had been there the last time I fell into this strange realm called Enkanomiya. I had to fight all sorts of strange beasts, and every time I needed to activate a Hydro totem, I had to—”

“Kamado-san!” General Sumiyuri’s shout catches him by surprise, and he immediately cuts off his rambling to stare at her with wide eyes. “I said, I accept your offer!”

“Oh.” All of a sudden, Tanjirou can’t help but feel a little embarrassed, not to mention confused. “To be honest with you, I thought that it would take a lot more convincing for you to agree… It’s quite the spur-of-the-moment plan, isn’t it?”

For the first time since their first meeting, Tanjirou catches sight of General Sumiyuri’s slight smile again, illuminated by the purple glow of the Tatarasuna. “It is,” she agrees, which confuses Tanjirou all the more. Shouldn’t she be more resistant towards this idea? “But for some reason, I can’t help but want to trust in your promise, Kamado-san. The resistance is at a disadvantage here, I’m sure you know that. Yet you still fight with them because it’s the cause you believe in. You’re brave enough to make that choice, even if it means going against an the full power of an Archon, and it’s… well, it’s inspiring, Kamado-san.”

He hopes that it’s too dark for the general to see the flush burning his cheeks. “You’re a flatterer, General Sumiyuri,” Tanjirou mutters, and reaches out to hand her the polearm fragment. She takes it almost reverently, gazing down at it for a long moment, before she places it in the folds of her garments, tucking it securely next to her heart.

“Since the two of us are to be travel companions in the future, just call me Hayami.” General Sumiyuri — no, Hayami — smiles at him, and Tanjirou almost feels his heart stumble in his chest. “Then, Tanjirou-san, I’ll trust you to change the mind of an unchanging Archon.”

The blank eyes of the statue watches silently as the two part ways — one heading west to Fort Fujitou while the other leaves for the Kujou Encampment. Just before Hayami steps back into the trenches of war, she pulls out the polearm fragment and stares at it under the light of the moon. The last remnant of an ambition that had burnt bright, and a love that had burned even brighter. Quietly, Hayami brings it to her lips and smiles.

“I’ll live the life that the both of us dreamed of,” she whispers. “That’s my eternal promise to you, Akari.”

[z3llous]

α drєαm, σr íѕ ít?

(Sanji x gn/enby reader) [Aug 16, 2020]

Out of all the oneshots I’ve written this is probably my number 1. I love this one so much. Hope you all love it <3

*

mч hαnd ín híѕ αnd híѕ ín mínє, σur hαndѕ íntєrtwínєd

ѕwαчíng вαck αnd fσrth, hєαrt tσ hєαrt, trulч αrt

єчє tσ єчє, í ѕpч híѕ glíѕtєníng σcєαn σrвѕ

mч σnlч dєvσtíσn, prσtєct wíth αll mч míght

flσwєrѕ ín híѕ hαír, mч hєαrt dєѕpαírѕ, fσr ít cαnnσt hαndlє ѕuch α ѕíght

mч lσvє, ѕunflσwєr, hєαvєn αвσvє

mч mínd, híѕ tσ dєvσur

thє rαín ѕhσwєrѕ, чєt mσσnlíght ѕíngѕ fσr uѕ

σh fσr wєddíngѕ вєllѕ í dєѕírє,  tσ ѕhαrє ríngѕ

α ѕσng wєllѕ frσm uѕ wíthín, juѕt fσr twσ, α pαír

αѕ ít fαdєѕ wє ѕαч αdíєu

Easier to read ver:

[my hand in his and his in mine, our hands intertwined

swaying back and forth, heart to heart, truly art

eye to eye, I spy his glistening ocean orbs

my only devotion, protect with all my might

flowers in his hair, my heart despairs, for it cannot handle such a sight

my love, sunflower, heaven above

my mind, his to devour

the rain showers, yet moonlight sings for us

oh for wedding bells I desire, to share rings

a song swells from us within, just for two, a pair

as it fades we say adieu  ]

*

Seagulls' excited calls beckon them from the enchanting dream. Why must they wake up? It was simply too good to be true.

Regretfully, they climb out of their mattress's comforting grasp and force their self to greet the day. Is it a comfy or stylish day? Why not both?

Both.

So they picked out their favorite clothes, before heading out. It was earlier than they normally wake up, about the time Sanji got up to prepare breakfast.

Right on time, Sanji exited the men's room. He hesitated for a moment, surprised to see the rarity of them awake at such an hour.

"Y/n~, lovely to see you so early in the day. I must be blessed~" He happily greeted in his usual flirty way.

"Lovely to see you too." Y/n replied in the usual calm manner.

"Would you like some tea to drink while I make you breakfast?" Sanji asked, hoping to spend some extra time with y/n before the others woke up.

"Yes, please." They answered,  feeling better by the second just by being in his presence.

They happily sipped on their favorite tea while listening to Sanji work. He was humming an oddly familiar tune.

Brushing it off as coincidence, they slipped away into a daydream until breakfast was ready.

chєrrч вlσѕѕσmѕ fluttєríng thrσughσut thє pєαcєful αír. σnє вч σnє thє pєtαlѕ nєѕtlєd ѕσftlч íntσ híѕ díѕhєvєlєd вlσnd hαír. thєч ѕwєpt thєm αwαч, gαzíng αffєctíσnαtєlч dσwn whєrє híѕ hєαd lαч rєlαхєd σn thєír lαp-

Easier ver:

[Cherry blossoms fluttering throughout the peaceful air. One by one the petals nestled softly into his disheveled blond hair. They swept them away, gazing affectionately down where his head lay relaxed on their lap-]

"Breakfast for y/n~" Sanji chanted placing it down before them, snapping them out of their trance.

"Oh, thank you, Sanji." They said with a light smile and began to eat.

Delightful as always, he never fails

"You were off in other worlds again, right? Ah, you always look so happy there~ I regret ruining it everytime." Sanji said dreamily.

"Oh- Yes, definitely other worlds." y/n said almost choking.

"Careful, what do you imagine in those daydreams of yours?" He said dropping the flirty tone for once, gazing at them with curiosity.

"What makes me the happiest, that's what I end up thinking of every time." Y/n answered truthfully, yet vaguely.

"And that is?" He asked leaning in slightly, clearly interested as to what could possibly absorb their mind in such a way.

"That's a secret~" They answered with a mischievous smile gracing their face, teasingly tapping him on the nose.

They gathered the empty dishes together and got up before he could question their secrecy.

"Thank you, Sanji. It was a pleasure, as always." They said happily and left, leaving him in a lost state.

---

Later the crew split up into groups of two to explore the spring island.

Y/n and Sanji chose to walk along the path furthest to the left. First wheat grass, then a pink cherry orchard, and later they came upon a flower field.

It was noon and they decided to sit under a tree amongst the flowers and have a picnic.

A sweet gentle breeze swept though tickling all the flowers as it passed and ruffled their hair. Once again he didn't fail to please. Cherry tarts, a bouquet of fruit, and red wine.

One by one they carefully picked out flowers and weaved them together into a crown fit for a Prince. They turned to him holding it out.

"Thank you~" He said cheerfully, placing it on carefully as though it could shatter at his touch.

They put everything away and continued along the path. Eventually a small village entered their sight.

The village was a collection of small houses with moss roofs and a sparkling fountain at the center. The market was small, but carried excellent fruit and vegetables.

The path continued further into a small forest. Time passed quickly as they talked and the sun began to set. Rain clouds peaked around the corner to warn of oncoming rain. A white gazebo with windows and a door was visible in the distance.

They walked to the gazebo and decided the best course of action would be to wait out the rain in there.

Rain pitter pattered against the windows as the sun slipped away. A radio sat upon one of the benches waiting for sweet melodies to escape it's small form. The song it it sang was the same entrancing sound they dreamt of.

"Sanji, weren't you humming it this morning?" Y/n said turning to him.

"I was, but it was from I dream I had last night." He answered, suddenly flushed and avoiding their gaze.

"So, you had the same dream too then?" Y/n said stepping closer, heart filled with longing and hope.

His head shot up, surprised.

"Gazebo, rain, night, this song, and.... dancing?" He asked cautiously, fearing he somehow had a different dream. Fearing the song was the only thing they had shared the night before.

"And the flower crown, yes." They were now standing before him, so close.

Y/n slowly held out their hands as an offering for a dance.

He hesitated, scarcely believing reality. The opportunity couldn't be missed and so he accepted.

Swaying back and forth, hands intertwined, hearts beating as one, they danced to the sweet sound the little radio sung to them.

Their eyes met his and all doubt washed away. They leaned in pulling him closer and sealed their fates with a soft kiss. His eyes fluttered closed and he melted into their touch.

The rain grew silent and the moon shined approvingly upon the two.

"Sanji, do you still want to know what I daydream of?" They whispered leaning their forehead against his, eyes half lidded.

"Yes, I want to know what makes you so happy. I'd search the entire grand line to give it to you." He answered them affectionately.

"You."

His eyes widened. He suddenly hugged them, burying his face into the crook of their neck, and held on tightly as though they'd disappear at any moment.

"Take it. Take it all. My everything, it's all yours." he whispered against their neck in an almost broken voice, tears spilled over and dampened their shirt.

They returned the hug, wrapping their arms around him, and rubbing his back softly.

"And leave you with nothing? It's only fair I return the favor." Y/n whispered back with a slight chuckle.

His silent cries became full sobbing as he nuzzled his tear stained face against their neck and gripped the back of their shirt.

They continued rub his back and slowly swayed side to side until he'd caught his breath.

Once he'd calmed down they loosened the the hug so that their arms rested around his waist.

"I love you." Y/n whispered breathlessly, always stunned by his mesmerizing beauty, as they gazed at him.

He leaned his face into their hand as they lifted it.

"I love you too." whispered back.

[whatgaviiformes]

10. Music Makers - Part 1 / Scenes from Gordon’s Bedside

Chapter Summary:  Virgil and Gordon and music Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 You are Here

Chapter A/N: In honor of 10 chapters of this concept, the plan is to give you a hell of a chapter 10 with a few moments in time strung together. I decided to go ahead and share what I have with you instead of waiting. Once the chapter has been shared in full over tumblr, I will post the full piece at Ao3 and FF.net. It may or may not make sense to remain as chapter 10 or be it’s own thing. Do share if you have an opinion. :-) 

The title Music Makers comes from “Ode” by  Arthur O'Shaughnessy, and it is very lovely. Part 1 A/N:  Music Referenced: Einaudi’s “Primavera”  Spotify | Youtube

***

Music Makers - Part 1/6

“You missed the cherry blossoms.”

San Francisco wasn’t too unlike Denver in Spring, but while Denver had some beautiful display of cherry blossom trees over in Cherry Creek, the Northern California Cherry Blossom Festival was an event, the second largest outside of Japan coming in right behind the one in the nation’s Capital. Virgil remembered the trip they’d taken to Washington DC as a family, the spring he caught flowers buds in his hair.  The festival had seemed bigger than the one that took place in San Francisco the past two weekends, but then again, he had been just a small child at the time.

This time, his heart hadn’t been in it with John leaving and Gordon still not awake.  The slow rain of pink through his fingertips made him think his brother. Drifting. And he would not have gone in the first place if John hadn’t dragged him out of the hospital for a bit of fresh air…for his last few days on terra firma - John’s words, not Virgil’s.

“I don’t really want to leave right now,” John had said, silhouetted against the line of pink trees, stormy emerald eyes blinking against the glare of the sun.

“John,” Virgil had whispered, “you have to.” It wasn’t because John had no choice. There was always a choice, but the ISS was John’s dream, a once in a lifetime opportunity that he could only take up while under NASA’s employment. Once their project got off the ground, John Tracy would no longer be an astronaut. His work would be anonymous; he’d be invisible. They all would be.

Gordon would hate if he took that opportunity away. John needed to go to space.

Virgil knew his brother belonged above the mesosphere, that John’s veins were made of a particular brand of stardust that was quite potent in its call towards home. But it was to be John’s first time beyond the skies, and Virgil would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little fearful for his little brother rocketing through the atmosphere into the vacuum of space.

“Are you frightened?”

“Of what’s out there? No,” John had explained, a crushed petal falling from his grasp. “Of what I’m leaving down here – I’m terrified.”

April had turned into May all too quickly, yet ever so slowly at the same time. Scott had been called back to duty, and Alan back to school. John had returned to Houston for his last trainings before take-off. Virgil had missed his graduation ceremony.

Gordon remained motionless, and the cherry blossom trees had lost their vibrant colors.  

“You would’ve liked them,” Virgil says, but there’s no response from the figure on the bed.  “John would’ve been able to give you the scientific name. Uhh… here, let me try to find…” He slips his hand out from under Gordon’s to type the search in his phone.

“Oh, gee, there’s a lot. Prune-us Sair-ah-sus,” he says finally, pocketing the device. “I probably butchered that. I was never good at Latin.”

He picks up the hand again.

“Do you remember when Mom dragged you along to my first piano recital? Probably not. You would’ve been just three or four at the time, and Alan wasn’t born yet. I had never played in front of an audience before and so I practiced for months beforehand. It was Einaudi’s Primavera.”

He hums a portion of the tune, sinking back into the memory of being eight.

“Mom probably hated hearing it after the first week.” For just a beat, he lets himself chuckle thinking of their mother dealing with his earnest younger self. “Dad had gotten me my first suit for the recital, and Mom helped me with my hair so I could look like a professional. I’m sure we have pictures somewhere.”

Virgil pauses a moment, smiling as he remembers the rest of the story.

“You always said you liked my playing, but you wouldn’t know it from that day! You screamed and screamed, and Dad had to take you out of the auditorium while you fussed. I remember trying to look out into the audience, but I couldn’t see through the lights. But it was just Scotty, John, and Mom who met me after my performance, and I just knew that you’d ruined my big day.”

Virgil notices that a small sliver of light shines through the windowpanes to dance along a strand of red in Gordon’s hair.

Gordon in his purest form was joy – a laugh to accompany a joke, a sparkle in the eye with a mischievous glint, an open ease in the way he walked and spoke, a smile when you need it most. Gordon’s soul was a reservoir of light that he could never quite fill to full. Because just as quickly as he soaked the rays of the sun into his being, he released them to share with the world around him.

When Gordon was born his hair had been an almost white blond– Alan’s had been the same way. But as Gordon grew, the blond darkened into gold the color of sunflowers in fall. In winter, when Gordon wasn’t spending 90% outside, hints of auburn would poke through.

He wonders if the auburn has the same sun soaking powers as the blond around it or if auburn is what happens when you make a ray of light sad.

“Apparently you told Dad that my song made you cry,” Virgil continues. “And that you needed to give me a hug so I would stop being sad.”

He sighs wistfully.

“It’s how I felt watching the cherry blossoms, Gordon. It was like seeing spring and knowing the beauty is still there, but not being able to reach it, like watching through frosted glass, and I understood why you cried.”

This time when he hums the melody his fingers flutter in movement and intermittently Virgil sings the melody, replacing notes with “da” before falling back into hums.

Virgil loses himself in the lonely music, in cherry blossoms through frosted glass, in green eyes looking longingly to the stars, in the flickering of a sun ray desperate to find a path to his brother’s light.

He knows how his piano reacts to his hands, the exact distance from the keys to his fingertips as they descend.

As the music ascends, his keys rise to meet him.

A twitch.

Tap.

Virgil’s music falters.

Tap… tap…

“Gordon?”   Like a dream, he watches fingers nudge his hand. His heart races as he meets his brother’s gaze. Honey eyes tell a story of confusion, blinking, searching. “Gordon!”

Tap.

“…ug.” The word is intelligible, but Virgil knows what it is by Gordon’s eyes.

Hug.

Virgil reacts.

[sweetestlamb]

Lighting Up Your World

Episode 17 

Summary: Gang-tae and Mun-yeong continue their road trip, finding themselves and helping others along the way. 

Author's note: Here is part 1 of the weekend fic updates! I tried my best to make these interesting and multilayered channeling my inner Jo Yong. The focus is on MY/GT and their healing but I also wanted them to heal others too on this journey so we do meet an OC. If I had time this could be something that continues each weekend, but work and life starts again very soon so I won’t make any promises but I had a really fun time writing this and trying to plot out the story so it felt familiar to IOTNBO with conflicts and resolutions, only they all happen within the chapter lol. Without further ado, here’s episode 17 ;) *Play “Lighting up Your World* 

The mood shifts drastically after Sang-tae's departure, they're both sulky and a bit flabbergasted by his sudden decision to leave, this was their first trip as a newly fledged family, it felt monumental, like a rite of passage of sorts; but by the morning they've accepted his choice and set sights on their next location. Gang-tae lays in disbelief thinking about how much his brother has changed, how much their relationship itself, has shifted.

Thanks in part to her, his eyes land on her sleeping form, gorgeous in the low lighting of the camping van.

She had crashed into their lives like a bulldozer, hell bent on having him, but only as an object- something to capture and conquer. Somewhere along the way, despite their unconventional start; love had blossomed. It wasn't an easy start and it took time to nurture but he couldn't imagine his life without her now, their little family.

I love you Moon Gang-tae.

She loved him. Meant it with every fiber of her being, it was detectable in her eyes, swirled in the pools of her captivating eyes. If that wasn't enough her actions proclaimed her love, never turning her back on him despite his sometimes despicable behavior and words that cut her. Running back to defend him from the one person she despised the most, uncaring of her own fate. He hadn't known he could experience love like this, all-consuming devotion. Not until she entered his life.

A smile blooms on his face, it all started with a stab. He knew others wouldn't understand- Jae-su's disbelieving face flashed in his memory- but it made perfect sense for them, she who was so jagged and broken when he met her and him so complacent and selfless, saving others even at his own detriment.

I met your mother after she stabbed me in the hand. Then months later she stabbed me in my other hand.

His chuckles fill the tight space of the van, until he hears a hoarse voice, "What are laughing at?"

With a small jump he turns to face her, adorable baffled look on her face, and he sits up to better see her.

"I was thinking about us."

She looks at him deeply, searching his eyes before continuing, "And that made you laugh? Were you thinking of good things?"

"Well... I was thinking about how we met and how we would tell that story to our future son who looks like me." He responds sheepishly, heart singing at the soft look that forms on her face, that happens often now, her blushing every time he mentions their future. He makes sure to do it often, for both of them. After wrongly viewing their relationship as ill-fated, it seems more important than ever to say the words out loud, breathe them into the world and give them life. Mun-yeong and Gang-tae are destined. 

He can’t help but imagine her round with his, no their child, swollen belly protruding from her slim frame, as she demands his attention and curses him for her condition. It would be as beautiful as it was terrifying. 

All in due time. 

After a few seconds of sustained eye contact she finally snaps out of her daze, craftily switching the subject to escape her own unease, “How are you really feeling about Oppa leaving? Do you want to end the trip and follow him?” 

For a moment, he wonders who is the person and what have they done to his Mun-yeong? The woman he first met lacked empathy for others, disregarded their feelings and trampled all over their boundaries; she was a new person, reborn. No, unpeeled, showing another layer to her personality. Considerate and caring with him and with Sang-tae, even putting them first at the expense of her own desires. 

Swiftly removing the blanket covering his torso, he strides toward her on the elevated bed, reaching out to caress her head, she is aptly watching his every move head subconsciously leaning into his tender hold. 

With his eyes firmly locked on her own he replies, “I...am happy. I am happy that he knows what he wants to do, he finally has a dream of his own. A dream just for him. And...I don’t want to go back. When I told you I loved you, that was my promise to keep moving forward, no matter what.” 

Being here, with you, that is my dream. That he leaves unsaid. 

He basks in the warmth of her smile, beaming on him, shiny solely for him. His own personal sun. 

“You’re so cheesy now.” She teases him playfully rolling her eyes, and he chuckles before shrugging, he’s never had a chance to be cheesy, probably has all that cheesiness packed up inside ready to come out, she is going to get it all. 

Curling his hands around her small face, he draws her closer before pressing a kiss to her forehead, watching her eyelids flutter close as she sighs gently. His lips are soft on her smooth skin, nothing more than a peck, a silent thank you for being here with him. For staying. 

Then he finally announces, “I know our next destination. While you were sleeping I found another spot for us.” Before she can question him he states, “It’s a surprise.” 

Her groan of annoyance is music to his ears, as he rushes to the front of the van, ready for their adventure. 

The sunlight brilliantly twinkles on the rippling waves of the water as he pulls up to their destination, a lake sequestered away and roughly hidden by trees and foliage, there is a quaint wooden dock leading to the watery oasis but not much less. He hums in contentment gazing at it, it is almost too peaceful to be true but they of all people deserve some peace after the hell they have been through. 

Mun-yeong stumbles out of the tiny bathroom of the van, peering out the window at the view, she stares at him bewildered, “A lake?” Why did you take us to a lake?” 

He shakes his head at her question, “To swim. Why else do people go to a lake?” He can hear his brother’s voice replaying in his mind, Why ask such an obvious question? 

With a glare she humphs crossing her arms in a symbol that he can read all too well- I’m not doing it- before stomping away, “I’m not swimming.” He watches her back as she defiantly strides back into the small compartment. 

He makes them a quick late breakfast of rice and grilled meat, scooping out a hefty amount for his grumpy girlfriend who has yet to leave the camping van. He had nagged and pleaded at the door, eager to get outside and see the lake, it was tempting especially on such a scorching day. But she had ignored all his calls, even childishly responded “I can’t hear you.” Before he had stomped away in the opposite direction, fondly irritated at her behavior. 

The van door creaks open as she finally decides to exit, he pointedly does not look up, not wanting to seem too eager at her arrival after she spitefully ignored him. He pushes the food in her general direction, not making eye contact. So she sits down on the unoccupied chair to his left, he is unprepared for the breadth of naked skin he sees when she does. 

With his fixed gaze on the food in his lap, the edges of his peripheral vision catch her bare legs, heeled sandals encase her foot but there is no material in sight on her legs. Just bare smooth, inviting skin. 

He gulps, reaching for his water. 

Drawing in a deep breath to reinforce himself, he slowly begins to raise his head, eyes traveling from her ankles to her smooth thighs, similarly naked before he stops on her torso. She is wrapped in a bathing suit, tight fitting and devastatingly distracting. The devilish suit is black and partially mesh, with her skin peeking through the stomach but solid across her breast and lower region. 

His tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth, despite his desperate swallows of water to re-hydrate his heated body. Grabbing his food, he stuffs his face with rice and meat hoping that will prevent him from begging her to let him take her back into the van and peel that suit off her and.... 

“I am still not swimming, but I figure I can get a nice tan at least.” She offers as away of explanation, he nods robotically, eyes still trained on the ground. Before a white bottle is forced into his vision, he jumps back in his seat, eyes finally landed on her body completely. 

Unbelievable. 

The glimpse he saw does nothing to prepare him for the entire picture, she looks amazing in the suit as if it was made specifically for her body, knowing her taste and monetary capabilities; the idea isn’t too far-fetched and he curses whoever gave this weapon to her. Atop the bridge of her nose sits her glossy black sunglasses, the same ones she wore when he saw her outside, a beautiful black storm cloud under falling cherry blossoms. Her hair is pulled back into a high messy bun, two braids on her side that disappear into the bun, wisps of hair that escaped the bun frame her face beautifully. In short, she looks like the cover of a high-end fashion magazine and he is at a lost for words. 

His musings are prematurely interrupted by her waving something in his face, a thin container, “--Are you listening to me? Take off your shirt.” 

He shakes his head, almost dropping his bowl in shock. 

Only seconds away from taking another gulp of water before her request. He doesn’t miss the smirk that curls on her lips, he knew she did that on purpose. 

“What? What are you talking about?” He shakily asks, pulling his thin white t-shirt protectively around himself. 

She tilts her glasses down ensuring that he can see her eyes before dramatically rolling them, “You act like it’s something I haven’t seen before.”

“We’re outside though!”

“So what?” She fires back, looking at him, exasperation farrowing her eyebrows.

He breathes hard, their eyes locked in a heated battle, before he sighs accepting his fate, admitting to himself that he is not as opposed to the idea has he’s acting. Guilt settles in his stomach as he remembers the excitement that coursed though him as he realized that without his hyung, he would be alone with Mun-yeong.  All by themselves, at given times no one around for miles. No one to hear their screams. The idea of being alone and unencumbered with her was thrilling. 

In one fluid motion, he stands up and grabs the end of his shirt, carefully lifting it up and over his head. Standing in nothing but his slippers and dark blue swim trunks, the only pair he packed, unlike her who probably had endless suits of different styles and colors. In that way they were vastly different, he was practical and minimal whereas she was extravagant and larger than life. 

Her eyes burned on his skin as she stood up as well, carelessly tossing her food on the table, before curling her finger at him in a seductively beckoning call, “Come closer.” Her voice was smoked honey, as if in a trance he found himself obeying, stepping forward a half step, “Closer” and closer he went until he stood directly in front of her. 

She audaciously looked him up and down, tongue peeking out to swipe across the span of her pink mouth. 

Then with anticipation thick in his throat he watched her hands grow closer to his body, creeping closer and closer to his skin and then they were finally on him. 

He jolted at the cold. Jumping away from her hands. 

“What’s wrong with you? I told you I was going to put sunscreen on you.” Her eyes narrow and he feels a blush cover his cheeks, at his red face she lets out a long drawn ahhhhhhhhhh before speaking, “Why did you think I wanted you to take your shirt off? Were you expecting me to do something else?” She lifts one perfectly threaded eyebrow at the suggestive inquiry while simultaneously moving back into his orbit to rub the sticky white cream into his stomach. 

He lets himself enjoy her touch, deliberate ministrations into his skin, her face close enough for him to kiss and only a thread of control keeps him contained. Her hand strokes across his abs, fingers purposefully creeping into the crevices of his body before she trails her manicured finger down to his trunks, so close to where he wants her hand, panting now with anticipation, half hard just from her hand on his skin. 

Then she stops. 

Pats him on the shoulder with a clipped, “All done.” Impish look clouding her face, he glares at her departing back, the pep in her step; she knows exactly what she just did to him. The wink over her shoulder reinforcing his speculation. 

Damn, she-devil. 

When she begins to rubs the same sticky cream into her legs, slowly and wantonly, peering at him whilst she does it, his only solution is to run and dive straight into the water, welcoming the cool blanket that soothes the raging heat in his loins. 

He swims alone for a few minutes, propelling himself back and forth in the shallow water, before he eventually feels the twinges of boredom creeping in, this was meant to be their adventure, he didn’t want to swim alone, imagining wet kisses and wandering hands under the guise of the water.  All new experiences that he only wanted to share with her. 

With those thoughts in mind, he silently vacates the water, footsteps light as he tiptoes to Mun-yeong, glowy and alluring from her spot on the lounge chair she  pulled seemingly out of thin air. Sunglasses still shielding her eyes he waves his arm to see if they attract her attention, she lays motionless still, breathing steady and unhurried. 

Perfect. 

Now, knowing that she will not notice his approach, he creeps forward putting on his best imitation of a spy, avoiding twigs and leaves, anything that will alert to his presence. After a measured and timed approach, he looms over her, taking a moment to bask in her tranquil beauty. She is a goddess in that bathing suit and he wants to remember her face in this moment, in a few seconds she will be ravenous in his arms, clawing and thrashing. It is the perfect juxtaposition of her personality. A beautiful disaster. 

Before he can second guess himself- maybe she was right and he did have a death wish- he grabs her, lifting her out of the lounge chair and wrapping her securely in his arms. 

“YAH!” Her reaction is expeditious, nails scrapping across his arms as she tries to break free from his strong hold, he winces at the sharp burst of pain shaking her slightly to dislodge her, but her efforts do not hinder his mission. He laughs at her screams and threats, “Put me down! Gang-tae, I will kill you!” Gaining speed as he reaches the end of the dock, with a bounding leap he flies through the air, weightless, until they crash through the surface of the water. Water splashes onto the dock from their impact and his nose burns with the sudden influx of water, before he scrambles to the top, taking her now suspiciously limp body with him. 

The sight that greets him when they burst to the surface, makes his body go numb with regret. 

Her face is ashen, almost grey in hue, wet hair plastered to her skull. But what stands out most are her eyes, usually brimming with love and light for him, now sunken and packed with an emotion he never wanted to put there; fear. 

He can feel how rapidly she is breathing, her body shaking like a leave under his hold as he keeps her afloat, the air wheezes out through her colorless lips as she begins to convulse in his arms, he is paralyzed under her visible distress. 

She begins to keen, “Please, please, get me out. I need to get out!” The sorrowful plead that shatters into a scream breaks his heart into a million pieces, and with only a small hiccup he responds to her cries. Kicking his legs powerfully, swimming as quickly as he ever has in his life, arms protectively wrapped around her shuttering form until the reaches the bank. 

It takes a moment to for her to recognize that they are now on land but once she does she leaps from his arms, whipping around and racing to the camping van without another word. 

He is left shell-shocked. 

Standing alone, wracking his brain to figure out what caused such a visceral reaction and not coming up with an adequate answer. Then he realizes that is not important, all that mattered now was reaching her and comforting her, those eyes would haunt him forever otherwise. 

Dashing to her rapidly retreating form, he catches her arm, twirling her around to face him. 

The fragments of his heart, shatter into even smaller pieces. 

Twin trails of tear stream down her face, dripping off her chin before disappearing into the ground. 

“Mun-yeong...” He vocalizes her voice like an apology. 

She breaks the connection between their arms, turning once more to walk away and he can’t stand to see her walk away from him, not again, never again. 

Softly capturing her hand again, he begs, “Please, tell me what I did wrong?” 

Struggling to speak through her choked throat she replies, “I can’t right now. I just need to be alone for a bit, I’m not running away.”

Those words again. 

He wants to hold on tighter, recalling how she had run away after uttering those words before, viciously slamming all her doors shut and pushing him out. She reads his face like a children’s book. 

“I promise, I’m not running away, this time. So let me go, for now.”

Trusting her words, he releases her hand. Heart sinking as she climbs the stairs and disappears into the camping van. If the sun continues to shine, he is unaware, the dark clouds of shame and regret hanging over his forlorn head. 

“When I was young, I had dreams of my mom drowning in a lake.” 

His head buzzes at the confession, so intensely focused on the food sizzling on the grill he had missed her reappearance. Lowering the tongs to give her his full undivided attention as she bares another layer of Ko Mun-yeong. 

“My dad... I thought he drowned my mother in a lake. And every night I would have dreams about her screaming for my help. Sometimes when I have those sleep terrors, I can see her above me, her body is dripping wet. I....” She takes a pause, sitting down in a chair further away from him and he almost cries at that small amount of distance she is placing between them. 

But she is also wearing his flannel shirt, dwarfing her small stature, her fingers clutching it as if needing protection. 

Following a deep breath she presses on, “I haven’t been in water since. I’m....scared. I’m sorry that I’m already ruining this trip--”

He doesn’t allow those words to settle in the air for a second before he’s out of his seat and crouching before her, he begs for permission with his eyes, and watches as she ruminates before nodding, with a sigh of relief he gathers her cold hands in his own, warming them instantly. 

“You didn’t ruin anything. I didn’t know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I made you cry. I never want to make you cry, I told you I would protect you and I let you down. I am so sorry, please forgive me.” Tears pool in his eyes, as he presses his lips to her hands a kiss following each word of apology, anguish flooding his system. 

Silence fills the space between them as he continues to kiss sweet sorries into her skin before she wrangles her hands away, placing them softly on his downward chin, lifting his head until their eyes meet. 

Her dark orbs are now swirled with pain, love and something inexplicable. 

“I should be asking you to forgive me, I don’t want her on this trip. This is just for us, she can’t ruin this.” Her voice trembles despite the force that she exclaims her wish. 

He smiles grimly, “We can’t run from her. You once told me that trauma should be faced head on. You were right, we can’t be expected to be perfect yet. We’re only human, you didn’t do anything wrong. Thank you for coming back and letting me in.” 

I love you.  He thinks it hard enough for her to hear it. 

A sad smile slides across her face, “You’re so adamant these days, I can’t shake you. If I tried to run, you would probably chase me down.” 

He doesn’t verbally reply to her assumption, letting the resolve in his eyes speak volume instead, she has always been able to read him like a book, this time will be no different. 

She appears so delicate and fragile, he doesn’t even attempt to stop himself from crouching up and pressing a kiss to her lips. She moans at the barely-there touch, hands tightening on his face as she drags him closer, deepening the kiss with a languorous swipe of her tongue. He crawls into her space, tilting his face to transform the kiss from deep to dirty, mouths opening to prod and swallow each other. Her teeth graze across his bottom lip before, pulling it and releasing it with a filthy, pop. His dick jumps at the stinging sensation. 

Reluctantly he pulls away from the delicious kiss, worry for her overriding his sex drive, she hadn’t eaten since this afternoon, locked herself away since the lake incident and skipping lunch. It was more important that she get sustenance right now. 

She groans at his sudden withdrawal, blindly chasing after his mouth. He laughs at the adorable image. 

He presses a piece of grilled beef to her mouth instead, chuckling as she opens her eyes in doe-like surprise. He keeps that comparison to himself, she wouldn’t take kindly to him comparing her to self-proclaimed arch nemesis right now. 

“Eat this. My mouth doesn’t have any nutritional value.” 

Her face twists as if she is about to argue, but the booming growl of her stomach pierces the air and she blushes before opening her mouth and consuming the succulent piece of meat. 

Dinner passes by in a flurry of meat and rice, as they take turns feeding each other and she teases him to retrieve meat from her mouth. They talk about the future and all the places they want to go, he hasn’t smiled this much in his entire life. As he packs up their dishes and chopsticks, he sees her stretching, pulling her body taut from the motion. He wonders if she’s wearing anything under his flannel shirt, her bare thighs taunting him for a second time today. 

“I’m sleepy.” 

Like a Pavlovian whistle, his body reacts to the innocuous declaration. Images of their previous night together flood his minds, slamming her into the bedroom wall as he sucked wet kisses into her neck, her legs wrapped around his waist as she sensuously grinded into his erection, her head thrown back in rapture as they imitated sex through their clothes, both hungry as they ripped through the clothes, his eyes rolling back as he slammed into her tight pussy, her nails scratching welts on his back. The sweat on their bodies mingling and drenching her luxurious sheets. 

The soft click of the van door closing slaps him from the memory and it takes a moment to realize that he is now alone. 

He presses down on his erection, hard, embarrassed at how aroused just a memory of her can make him. 

Inhaling the crisp night air, he marches into the battlefield. 

The camping can is dark upon his entrance, the only illumination provided by the stray moonlight that filters in through the tiny windows, after his quick and efficient appraisal of the confined area, he realizes that she is nowhere to be found.  Strange. 

Scratching his head he wonders to his bed mat, pausing for a moment before making the decision to remove his shirt, confidence dominating the usual stream of shyness that floods his bloodstream. He lays down on his bed roll, comically similar to Mun-yeong as she had beckoned him to join her on the bed. He had been a fool then, to refuse such a desirable offer, but he wouldn’t be making the same mistakes ever again.  

The soft patter of her footsteps approaching causes his heart to skip a precious beat. Then it stops completely when she enters his line of vision. 

Temptation. 

That is the word that blares like a siren in his head as he takes her in, her hair is down in soft waves around her face, face washed clean and flawless in the light, and finally he looks at the short silk slip that contours to her every bump and curve. Spaghetti thin straps exposing edible shoulders, as the silk ends dangerously high on her thigh, lace dancing around the ends. 

Jaw permanently on the ground, he watches in dismay as she barely glances at him, wondering eyes fleeting across his abs almost too fast to catch, as she climbs the stairs to her bed, her ascent making the slip creep obscenely up her thigh almost giving him a wonderful glimpse at her ass. 

Pushing past the frog in his throat he croaks out, “Where are you going? I thought we would sleep down here together.” 

She absently arranges her sheets, moving them out of the way, putting her body on clear display for his starving eyes. With eyes that glow in the dark she calmly replies, “Why did you think that? It was your idea to sleep separated in the first place remember?”

Yes, he remembered. When Sang-tae was still on this trip with them, she had offered for Sang-tae to take the bunk bed and they sleep side by side. But he had declined anxiously, knowing that he would not be able to keep his hands to himself if they were sleeping in such close proximity, terrified at losing control so close to his brother. 

She seemed to take a malicious glee from throwing his words back in his face. 

“But that was before.” He whined, “I thought you were sleepy.”

He tried to subtly infuse meaning into the word hoping to remind of their last rendezvous. 

She didn’t bite. 

“I am sleepy, that’s why I’m going to sleep. Good night Gang-tae.” With a quick wave, she rolled over, facing away from him as he glared daggers into her back. 

Fuck. 

He couldn’t see the smirk that overtook her face at his obvious frustration. 

Time ticked by, or it would have if they had a clock in the van. Instead he marked time with the sounds of crickets chirping in the forest. 

Chirp. 

Chirp. 

Chirp. 

Finally he sat up, tossing the blankets from his body as he gazed at Mun-yeong’s still form, the moonlight provided enough radiance to see her perfectly in the dark. He couldn’t resist the pale glow her skin, clearing his throat he called out quietly, “Mun-yeong? Mun-yeong-ssi? Are you awake? Mun-yeong?”

His calls went unanswered. 

He sighed. 

Then he picked up a shoe throwing it at the wall of the camping van, the sound deafening in the silence. She jolted up, with quicker reflexes than you would expect from someone who was deeply sleeping. “What was that?” She turned to him, shock on her face. 

Twisting the truth slightly he replied, “Um.. I don’t know. Sounds like something ran into the van. Probably an animal. But now that you’re awake I was wondering if you’re cold?”

There was a pregnant pause and he vaguely heard her whisper under her breath, “Ran into the van, my ass” before she spoke loud enough with the intention of him hearing, “No, I’m not cold. If you’re cold you should use Sang-tae’s blanket he left it for you.”

He rolled his eyes at her helpful suggestions, that was the last thing he wanted. So he pressed on, “I’m using that blanket too, but I’m still cold.” He gathered the blankets as he approached her bed, resembling a child fleeing to their parents room after a bad dream. 

“What do you want me to do about that?” She asked, still turned away from him and that made it effortless to ascend the stairs and slide into the bed with her. His body’s weight sinking into the bed, announced his presence and she looked at him in surprise. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m cold.”

“I told you to deal with that on your own.”

“No, I want you to help me deal with it.” He pulled her into his arms, crushing her face into his naked chest. Minutely moaning at the smooth feel of her nightgown on his skin. 

With a huff of dramatic annoyance, she pushed him away, turning her back to him again before saying, “Fine you can stay. Please go to sleep, just go to sleep.” 

Their night at the guest house surfaces in his mind, her pleas for him as he coldly rejected her once again and begged her to sleep, suppressing his desire to take her right there and then. Karma was indeed, a dish that was best served cold. 

He now knows exactly what she’s doing and why. She is serving him a taste of his own medicine, showing him how he made her feel in those moments when he wasn’t quite ready to let her in, but wasn’t man enough to voice that to her either, so he lashed out and hurt her unnecessarily. 

Gathering his courage, he swallows his pride, “I’m sorry.”

Silence is his only reply. 

Then with a small move, she presses back into his chest, their bodies melding from shoulder to toe. 

He wraps his arms around her, humming at finally having her back in his arms. He holds his breath, waiting for the seduction to continue but she simply lays in his arms, contently playing with his fingers while he’s so hard he could hammer nails with his cock. 

With a casual grip he begins to play with her fingers too, moving their hands up until they are treacherously close to her breasts, ensuring that every swipe of his thumb on her hand also collides with her nipples. Her breath hitches when he catches her erect nipple, but she doesn’t stop him. 

Then he begins to undulate his hips, thrusting his boxer-clad cock into the silk of her slip, groaning at the intoxicating sensation before his control snaps like a rubber band and he surges forward, pulling her close and grinding into her with dark intentions. 

She hisses at his cock’s hard crash into her ass, “Aiish you sly fox, is this why you came here?” 

In lieu of responding to her obvious inquiry, he pushes his hand down the front of her gown, squeezing her breasts in his hand, harshly pinching the tight nipples until she moaned and squirmed in his hands. He pumped his thick length into her back, haphazardly catching her ass and the crease of her thighs with each rough thrust. With a punishing squeeze to her chest, he retracts his hands only to push his boxers down his hips, cock bouncing out in excitement, ready to play. 

His eyes roll back at the feel of her silken gown on his hot engorged skin, precum wetting the material obscenely, as the game ends and she is as enraptured as he is, humping back into him, vigorously. Ripping her panties off from under her nightgown, he tries to plunge a finger into her moist center, but his elbow knocks into the bed railing and he groans at the hindrance. She is a panting mess in his arms now, pressing back into his heavy thrusts, his cock catching on her wet folds, as they both moan in pleasure. 

“Can I try something?” Nerves prickly under his skin.

The question leaves his mouth before he can talk himself out of it. She stills at the sudden question but shakily replies, “Yes, just do it. Stop talking.” 

He laughs at her impatience, jubilant that she wants him with as much vigor as he wants her. Grabbing her around her waist, he hoists her up into a seated position before sitting up too, using that leverage to turn her upside down, before dragging her onto his body and he lays back down onto the bed. 

A perfect 69. 

She gasps at the sudden change in position, before looking back at him from over her shoulder, “I knew you were watching porn in the bathroom. Next time, come to my room we can do some hands on learning.” 

He swats her ass in retribution, “Now you’re the one talking too much.” 

She smirks pressing her lips together and he can’t help but joke, “Well you don’t need to close it completely, just put it to better use.” 

Eyes darkening from the proposition, she leans forward and swallows the head of his cock, wet mouth wrapping him in a squishy heaven. His hips subconsciously jerk forward, forcing more of his length in her mouth and she moans around the intrusion. 

Then he looks up at the feast before his eyes, her wet and open above him, primed to be devoured by his hungry mouth. He wastes no time in licking her folds, wiggling his tongue into the moist cavern and groaning as she moans at the sensation, vibrations tingling around his cock. They both set off to wreck each other, her tongue relentless as she slurps and licks every inch him, distracting him from wrecking her. At a particularly hard suck at his balls, he shoves two fingers into her, corkscrewing immediately and giving her little room for adjustment. 

He grabs her ass cheeks to pry her open further to his onslaught, twisting his fingers into her at the same time licking across her clit, pulling it into his mouth and humming at her addictive flavor. 

She pulls off his cock to shout, “Fuck.” Among other expletives and it’s good that he’s not a religious man because pure blasphemy falls from her sinful mouth. He misses the feel of her mouth around him, so he thrusts up wildly catching her mouth as he fucks into her, in perfect synchronization as he fucks into her with his fingers. 

She is a drooling mess above him, spit drowning his cock in a filthy river, he focuses on making her lose her mind as he feels his end growing near, tongue and fingers both hammering at her pussy, plunging, filling, worshiping. 

Her body twitches violently, drawn tight like a bow, before snapping its release and her juice rain down on his waiting face, bathed in her glory. 

His tongue never stops its lap at her until she keens in pain, “No more, it’s too much.” Reluctantly he pulls away, pretty swollen lips closing at his retreat, he kisses them one final time. 

Without warning, she leans forward and slides down his cock, pushing past her gag until he feels himself slide down her throat and two quick fucks into that constricting paradise is all it takes to shoot hot cum down her throat, his eyes roll in the back of his head. She swallows and swallows, until finally drawing off as the abundant cum dribbles on his naked thighs, some even pooling on the sheets. 

Collapsing to her side of the bed, it takes some effort to meet her eyes in their opposite positions, her head at his feet. But when he does, he sees all the love and fire he knows shines luminous in his own, he worries if this passion might just be too powerful for even them, might it burn them up leaving nothing but their ashes? 

What a way to go. 

He gathers her pliant body in his arms, moving her until she's sheltered in his arms, she will never have to sleep alone again, she has Gang-tae and Mang-tae. The doll now clutched tightly in her hand.

They drive for days before they come across a small town, pulling into a gas station to refill the van tank. They hadn’t yet emptied it since their first fill and he was working hard so they wouldn’t, loathing the idea of getting stranded on the side of the road with Mun-yeong. She would chew his head off. 

“Be careful.” He calls out to her as she wonders into the diner adjacent to the gas station, they’d she’d grown tired of rice and grilled meat and had decided to get some food at the nearest diner. He’d told her to go ahead and get them a table, while he refilled the camping van. 

He thinks about how far they’ve come on this journey, literally and emotionally. He has shared stories with her that he has never shared with another soul, not even Jae-su. Has experienced things he never thought he would be allowed to, this trip itself was a life long dream that he'd foolishly given up on but she showed him that it was okay to dream.

He didn't have to suppress his every whim or desire, was teaching him everyday that he was worthy of wanting and receiving.

With all those thoughts permeating his mind, he is completely caught off guard when he enters the diner and sees her menacingly looming over three young boys, a butter knife in her hand. "If you keep bothering her, your parents won't have children." Those are the words, he hears her utter, to children.

All who, trip over themselves fleeing from her screams of “A witch, a witch!” as they scamper back to their tables and said parents glare at the women dressed in black from head to toe, provoking their innocent children. 

She smiles at them, waving with the knife still prominently in her hand. He promptly snatches it from her grip, reprimand on the tip of his tongue before a small mouse-like voice cuts him off.

"Thank you lady. Are you a princess?" Appearing from behind the shadow of Mun-yeong's body, a thin child creeps out, twiddling her fingers as she gazes up at Mun-yeong like the stars are hung in her eyes. He's never seen a child look at her like that. 

"No. I'm not a princess. They weren't wrong, I'm a witch." She answers deadpan, twirling her fingers to add to the glamour.

She looks very much the part in a bellowing black dress with a full skirt and puffy sleeves, her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail with a black rose pin in the front. She towers above the young girl in shiny black leather pumps, that almost gleam under the fluorescent lights. Armor back on since the lake. 

He readies himself for the cries that her statement will evoke.

Flabbergasted when instead he hears, "Cool. You're the prettiest witch I ever saw."

Mun-Yeong preens at the compliment before turning to walk away, but the girl catches the material of her dress, rudely tugging it to get her attention.

The sharp eye at the hand on her dress is enough to make the girl immediately release it but Mun-Yeong peers down in question, "When I grow up will I be pretty like you?"

Without even a second to consider Mun-Yeong replies, "No. No one is pretty like me."

He watches the joy melt from the child's eye and opens his mouth to lessen the blow, take the sting off her too blunt words. But she beats him to it, "You shouldn't aspire for looks, you can't control that. Pick something you can control, like being strong so you can beat up your bullies." Her little shoulders perk back up and she beams at Mun-Yeong, his girlfriend's lip curl up at the side.

Before she walks into the diner, finding an empty table, he watches in shock as the young girl wordlessly trails after Mun-Yeong. The sight so familiar it knocks him in the heart. Just like flies to a fire, people like them were drawn to Mun-Yeong's light, the sparks that singed around her as she boldly did what you only dreamed of.

He joins them both at the table, and finally takes a good look at the little girl. She has a cute round face, rosy cheeks, her hair is pulled back in a disheveled ponytail, what stands out are her clothes, they are too put it kindly filthy. Tattered mess that hand off her thin frame and immediately the need to protect her overwhelms him.

"So what's your name brat?" Mun-yeong's deep voice breaks the silence.

"Min-jo."

He sends a warm smile in her direction, noting that her eyes haven't once left Mun-Yeong. Still he adds to the conversation, "Hi Min-jo, I'm Moon Gang-tae and this is my girlfriend Ko Mun-yeong. She writes children's books, maybe you've read one of her books before."

If her eyes were filled with adulation before, now it is tenfold as she jumps in her seat, "You write books? That's so cool! Do you like it? Are they fun? What are they about?"

Taking a sip of the water, the server brought them a few minutes ago with the menus, Mun-Yeong glances from the corner of her eye, before darkly whispering, "They're about chatty little brats who get eaten when they ask too many questions."

Min-jo's eyes widen in shock, little mouth falling into a perfect O, before her bell like giggles ring through the air, "You're so funny Ms. Witch!"

Mun-Yeong smiles back, a full face crinkling smile, at a child. Someone else's child. He is stunned into silence as he watches them converse, the kid ignoring Mun-Yeong's hint and asking her a million more questions. She even answers a few. He watches the miracle, stuffing noodles into his mouth, utterly charmed and bewildered.

When they've all finished their meals- he's still shocked at the amount of food such a small body was able to consume- he opens his wallet and places down the amount plus a hefty tip. He stands up and they follow his lead, Min-jo still trailing behind Mun-Yeong, before a voice stops her in her tracks.

"Oy! Where are you going? You know better than to bother the guests, get back here!" A woman in an apron waddles out, catching her by her arms preventing her from taking another step.

The woman bears no resemblance to the child, sharp where she is round so he wonders if that's her grandmother, before he asks the question aloud. Min-jo's head bends down until her face is completely hidden, "No. I'm an orphan I don't have anyone." Her voice is barely a whisper, lost in the wind as soon as it leaves her lips.

He watches Mun-Yeong tense at the word, eyes shifting back and forth between the two. Three orphans in one diner, the world's saddest story.

He wonders if that was what drew the girl to them in the first place. Destiny. Then he remembers what he overheard. Definitely destiny, Mun-yeong showed up when she needed someone to help her. 

If someone shows up when you need then, I call that destiny. 

Mun-yeong sniffs at the tears that are pooling in the child’s eyes, her own eyes dark pools that reveal nothing. 

"That's no excuse to feel bad for yourself, you can't control that either. Stop following me and learn how to be a leader, then one day when you're older you can make your own family. I did." Her words are matter of fact with no warmth yet he sees the hope they ignite on the child's face, her eyes large in wonder. Pride washes over him like a wave.

Mun-Yeong turns to leave, before promptly stopping and returning to the girl, bending down to meet her at eye level, "Tell those bullies that a witch gave this to you and if they tease you again it'll turn them into frogs." She unpins the black rose pin from her hair sliding it into the young girl's messy hair, her little hand comes up to touch it in wonder.

Tears swimming in her innocent eyes.

Without another word, Mun-Yeong leaves in a whirlwind of black cloth and witchy flair, and he watches Min-jo watch her, her seemingly cold words had been exactly the balm this child needed. He bids Min-jo farewell, bowing at the older woman who takes the young girl's hand, maybe not her biological grandmother but clearly she cares for her. He hopes they let each other know one day, their true feelings.

Love should be shared and acknowledged, unless what's the point of loving?

"You made her feel better."

She looks up at him from her place on the chair, passively, "I told her the truth."

He noticed a long time ago that she doesn't quite know how to respond to compliments, begs for them but once she receives them she quiets down as if taken back by their presence.

"You did really well Mun-Yeong, I'm so proud of you." Instinctively her head comes forward seeking his hand and he happily strokes his hand across her head, amazed by the woman he loves. He impulsively presses a kiss to her head as well, breathing in the floral aroma clinging to her hair.

That night as they lay together, no facades this time, she walks right over to him and slings into his arms, demanding that he stroke her head to help her fall asleep. He concedes happily. Too tired to try for anything more, he resolves to do it tomorrow. The thing that has been on his mind since he told her that he loved her.

He's going to ask her.

What's the point of having all this love and not showing her?

[sunkissed-mogai]

I thibk birds should scream Shrek. Can you imagine, your eyes flutter open in the morning and as the world begins to wake up, and the wind rustles the leaves as though rousing then from a slumber of many months, and the birds coo softly outside your window, "Shrek", as though they're scared to break the perfect calm of the morning. | It is indeed my thing to break down random topics. I am simply cool like that /j -⭐

i would cry

imagine stepping outside to the beauty of the cherry blossoms, the sun rays peeking through clouds, and... birds singing their beautiful song of the swamp

[cheri-translates]

[Submission from @keikomochi] More Song Suggestions (I'm aware it's been ages, lol.)

Lol, if I can be consistent enough, I’ll do my best to make this a monthly thing. I can’t guarantee songs for all the guys, lol, but I can certainly try. 

As an extra sort of feature, there will be songs for the producer as well, lol.

For the most part, Gavin songs will be plentiful as my way of repaying Cheri for sharing these suggestions with everything, I’m very grateful.  

Of course, feel free to offer any commentary, I like reading your thoughts on each song and their relation to the guys, if you have time.

Click the song names and you’ll go to their respective YouTube videos. Hopefully this makes things better, lol.

Producer (like her gentle dreams and longings, lol)

I Wish - Skee-Lo

Dream On! - Static-P

gift - MONKEY MAJIK (Producer’s softness.)

Gavin

gift - MONKEY MAJIK (Fits Gavin and producer’s dynamic too.)

> The overall tone of the song is so wholesome! I can envision a montage of them doing cute stuff together like flipping through photo albums together while poking fun at each other, him teaching her how to drive Sparky while she’s panicking etc.

> Notable lyrics: "I’m shy / A small gift / Full of joy / Box of happiness” -> SO CUTE

Riot of the Cherry Blossoms - KEYTALK Lyrics (Also goes with Kiro.) 

> Awww it sounds like how Gavin encourages MC to press forward bravely, and to know that he’s with her T-T

> Notable lyrics: “Blown by the wind, fluttering and fluttering, I will reach my hand to your voice / Right away”, “Embrace the overflowing shards of the future with your hands”

Second Kiss/セカンド・キス - Shoose Lyrics (Technically like Kiro but lyrics follow Victor/Gavin more.)

> Oo I like the vibes of the song! I’ve saved it to my personal playlist HAHA

> To me, this song comes off a little... too chirpy and lackadaisical for Gavin? It might suit Kiro more! But I get what you mean by the lyrics being appropriate for Gavin and Victor!

> Notable lyrics: All my love tonight, I want you to embrace me intensely

Judgement - Kazuma Kiryu

> For a moment I thought this was the baka mitai song LOL

> I immediately associated this song with Eli because of their similarly Deep™ voices

> Notable lyrics: “I've never ever even known love / The lowly, foolish mutt that I am inside”

Don'ts Don'ts - Mayday (めちゃ勇敢な男ですね？ I’m interested in your thoughts on this one, lol.）

> WHAT IN THE WORLD IS THIS EDGY SONG

> A good representation of Gavin’s high school days HAHAHAHA I can picture Minor recommending it to him and it somehow ends up getting stuck in his head while he does edgy stuff like piercing his own ears hngh

> Notable lyrics: “I don’t care who you belong to or whom belongs to you / I belong to myself and no one else / Let my heart beat, feeling alive”

Shaw

Joker & Akechi sing “You’re Nothing Without Me” (This is the duel of the bros as they fight for their places in peoples’ hearts.)

Bye Bye Bye - NSYNC (This brat being really annoying but good at rock music.)

Victor

Somehow, selecting songs for this uncle is really hard, so I guess most of this is the dynamic he has with the producer, lol. 

Sugar Pop Sunshine - Static-P (This is more so his relationship with the producer, journeying through life and other ridiculous obstacles. 其實我覺得他們兩個真的是笨蛋。李澤言也是一個大笨蛋，但不常承認。)

Forked Road - MANYO (This is by my favorite cover group and its song lyrics are wonderful.)

I’m Sorry - Static-P (Apologizing for being too harsh, perhaps.)

Apologies for the lack of Lucien, lol, but I’m a bit pressed for time as of writing this. 

I hope to talk to you soon Cheri!

[jeogiyall]

𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐭; 𝒌.𝒅𝒚

❥ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗒! 𝖽𝗈𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗑 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

❥ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝖺𝗎, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾; 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌-𝗍𝗈-𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗒 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅

❥ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟻.𝟺𝚔

❥ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌

❥ᴀ/ɴ: 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗆𝗀!! 𝗂'𝗆 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖽-𝖻𝗈𝗒-𝗐𝗁𝗈'𝗌-𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒-𝖺-𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾. 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍!! -𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

—

While it’s not what most people in your position would say, you love working at the family business. It helps that your family business is your mother running a beauty salon while your father is it’s sole electrician (because no one, and I mean no one, should trust that man with their hair,) rather than something boring like a law firm. But it’s also just fun; you get to style intricate updos for dinner parties, control the radio, listen to church ladies gossip. Sometimes if it’s really busy, your mother will let you take over manicures. 

“That’ll be thirty dollars, mam!” Your voice chirps to Dottie, your Wednesday afternoon regular. She tries for a minute to get into her purse, then puffs out ‘oh hell’ before dropping her palms (with still wet fingernails) onto the counter. You think that if she hadn’t done this hundreds of times before that it’d be startling, but she has. Which only makes it funny.

“Just put it on my tab, okay dear?” There’s a smile twinging on her words as she toddles towards the door, eyes scanning over the nail polish for any chips. Another laugh falls from your lips, mixing naturally with the one sounding from your friend who’s busy holding the door.

“Have fun with the grandkids this weekend!” You shout to the regular customer, who only holds up a thumbs up. Donghyuck swoops into the store like a fleeting breeze, pushing himself up into the familiar spot of your checkout counter. If your mother were here you’d tell him to get off. Since she isn’t you hand him a lollipop from the candy bowl and ruffle his curly black hair, “That new shampoo is really working for you, isn’t it?”

“Yep.” He answers before popping the sucker into his mouth, “How’s Dottie today?”

“Insane as ever, you know she went parking?” The boy laughs lowly, shaking his head while playing with the sleeves of his leather jacket, “Hyuck I’m not kidding! Her and Joe, they went out parking last Thursday and she told me all about it!”

“Aren’t they nearly sixty?” You nod in response while bringing a new magazine to the lady sitting under the hair dryer, who’s two blinks away from sleep until you drop the book into her lap. She accepts and thanks you with a smile, letting you know that she’ll be out in a wink before beginning to flip through the glossy pages.

“Yes! I told her that they’re acting like some crazy kids, but I guess that it’s kind of sweet.” Donghyuck, while more sensitive than nearly every boy you know, gags at your remark, “Carry on all you want, you know that I’m right.”

“Whatever, the boys and me are getting milkshakes if you wanna come.” What follows is a conversation that happens at least three times a week, always ending with ‘you know that I can’t,’ and ‘square.’ You don’t mind having it though, it’s sweet that he thinks to invite you.

“You know that I can’t.” The boy rolls his eyes while pushing off the counter and moving towards the front door, briefly holding it open for a customer who’s desperately trying to hide her roots.

“Square.” He whispers before singing out his usual, “See you in homeroom.” And then you’re alone. But it’s okay. Because unlike most people in your position, you love working at the family business.

* 

It’s a week and a half later when Kim Doyoung walks into the store, all long legs and scuffed sneakers. When you see the sleeves of his leather jacket you just assume that it’s Donghyuck coming to get the latest gossip on your favorite Wednesday regular.

“Well Dottie didn’t tell me much this week, but I heard it from a birdie that she and Joe were picnicking on Wednesday. Right after I did her nails too! They’re orange this week to match her favorite church dress.” You don’t even look up, simply rambling on while scribbling in the margins of your biology notebook. It makes something warm blossom in the boys chest.

“Is that so?” Instantly, your eyes shoot up at the voice that is definitely not Lee Donghyuck. It’s lower, smoother. Like the feeling of hot tea burning a trail down your throat on a cold morning. 

“Oh dear, I am so sorry! I-I just saw the jacket and thought that you were-”

“Hyuck?” He finishes for you, one elbow coming to rest on the checkout counter. Doyoung, you notice, is not a particularly large man. He’s tall enough, sure, but the set of his shoulders is rather petite along with the width of his waist. His face looks like a babies. Despite this fact, there’s still something intimidating about the boy, “It’s Doyoung. M’here to pick up an order for him though, I think he said it’s shampoo?” 

“Yes, I have that right here. Why didn’t he come to pick it up, i-if you don’t mind my asking?” The boy puffs loudly at your question, dropping cash on the table that’s clearly been crumpled in Hyucks front pocket since he placed this order.

“There’s a sock hop tonight a few towns over and he’s getting ready. You know how he is.” There’s a moment of quiet as you hand him his change, your eyes finally settling on the boys face long enough to remember. It takes two seconds for you to decide that he’s the first truly pretty boy that you’ve ever seen. Three to decide that you like boys pretty over anything else, “I have an extra seat in my car if you’d like to join.” 

And while the thought is tempting, driving through town in Doyoungs iconic cherry red convertible with the top down and your best friend in the back seat, all you can think of is your mother. How this is her first time going to bridge club since she opened the store four years ago. How she finally trusts you to do more than sweep up the aftermath of haircuts. How she’s counting on you right now.

“Not tonight. Another time?” For a brief moment your eyes lock, and there’s something there. You can’t reach out and touch it, hear it, you can’t even smell it. But you both know that it’s there, you both feel it. Crawling up your arms like a ladybug and leaving goosebumps in its wake, you feel it.

“Okay princess, I’m holding you to it.” Before you have the chance to tell him that you hope he does, he’s gone.

*

It’s an early Friday evening when you see Doyoung again. He’s in the library, which is surprising enough, but then he takes the seat next to you and the entire world stops.

“Stopped by the store, but your pops said that you’d be here.” Your eyes bulge so hard at the statement that Doyoung is amazed they’re not exploding. Honestly, you are too.

“You met my father?!” Your voice raises at least three octaves, causing the lady up front to shush you. It sends a hot flush to your cheeks and Doyoung thinks that he’d do anything to see it again.

“We’re not talking about that, we’re talking about how it’s Friday night and you’re trying to spend it at the library.” He does that thing again, the thing where he makes you feel so intimidated and small. It’s not in a bad way, like the boys in your honors classes. It’s also not in a good way like when your father hugs you after a long day at school. It’s something in between, which leaves heat in your stomach.

“I-I have biology homework-”

“You have all weekend to do that, we’re going out tonight.” He stands up and extends a hand out to you, the other one already flipping his keys. Panic is rising in your chest as your mind races to find any possible excuse.

“My parents would never agree.”

“Your dad already said yes.” If it weren’t for your heart is trying to beat out of it’s cage then you’d fixate on how weird it is that Doyoung has already met your dad.

“I’m not dressed properly.” His eyes take in your dress, baby blue with white accents, before one of his eyebrows quirks. It’s a blatant lie, the both of you know it. This has been your favorite dress for years.

“Stop being ridiculous and just come with me.” You’re going to say yes. Doyoung is in front of you wearing a green flannel and jeans that hug his waist so perfectly, and you’re going to say yes. But you have so much to do, and work tomorrow.

“I just can’t tonight Doyoung, I’m sorry.” His eyes soften slightly as your nose buries back into the textbook. You’re so focused that you barely even notice him sitting back down in the seat across from you, “What are you doing?” He looks at you quizzically before leaning in close enough that his black hair tickles your cheek.

“Why don’t you wanna go out with me, princess?” If Doyoung himself wasn’t enough to make you blush, the sheer boldness of his words definitely was.

“I-it’s not that I don’t want to.” Hot blush rises to your cheeks as each syllable catches on your tongue, “I just can’t.”

“Why?” You’re going to tell him that it’s because boys like him ruin girls like you. That girls like you shouldn’t want to be ruined as badly as you do.

“Because I have homework.” A heavy silence settles in the space between your bodies, only faltering when he decides to fall back into the green plastic chair with a sigh.

“Alright then, I’ll help.” You’re three seconds away from saying something snarky before he speaks again, “I’m not kidding, I was really good at this!” His eyes are wide and there’s a smile playing on his lips (nothing like his normal smile, so cool and collected. No, this one is warm all over. Like your mothers chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven.) You think that the fluttering of your heart is ridiculous, then that you’re in absolutely no position to deny him.

The two of you stay cooped up in the library until the streetlights outside flicker on and the librarian is all but kicking you out. Doyoung is surprising, to say the least. Where you thought that he’d be rough and abrasive, he is kind. Where you thought the feeling of his hands on your bicep would be laced with callouses, it is soft. Where you thought that Doyoung was intimidating, or even scary, he is gentle. There’s a brief moment when your hands touch and you think that he’s going to keep it there. He doesn’t, which would be more disappointing if you hadn’t seen the pink blush on his face. 

“You don’t even need my help, princess!” Doyoung jokes as you walk out of the library, one of his hands carrying your books while the other holds the doors open. 

In a moment of boldness you take the textbooks and respond, “I know,” then press a short kiss to the high point of his cheekbone, “but having you was fun.”

The weight of you stays on Doyoungs shoulders until he falls asleep that night.

*

No one really knows when Doyoung assimilates into your life, you just know that it happens quickly. In the span of a month sporadic visits turn into him dropping into the salon every day, leaning on the counter and making you blush until your mother gives you a task. Some days he brings Donghyuck too, which are days where absolutely nothing gets done.

Today’s not one of those days, though. It’s only your mother, you, and Doyoung who smells of petrol and rosemary. Thanks to the light Monday crowd, your friend has spent the last three hours distracting you with anything that isn’t work. The distractions range from mindless chatter about his friends down at the car shop (which he apparently works at, but you’re not sure how that’s possible seeing as he spends all of his time flirting with you or going out,) intense stares glued onto the perky bow of your work apron, delicate hands playing with all of your pencils up front. At one point your mother jokes that she’s going to get him a uniform and put him to work.

But then it’s time to close, and your mother is carrying multiple gallon jugs of hair color at once, and Doyoung can’t just watch. He can’t just watch as the bags set deeper beneath her eyes and her soft laughter fades off into sleepy grumbling. After turning on the small radio by the hair dryers on he grabs two bottles from her hands, offering up a gentle smile.

“I’ll help (Y/n) close up.” Your mother sighs loudly, Doyoung watching as her shoulders relax for the first time since he arrived. She gladly surrenders the jugs and pinches his soft cheek.

“You’re a good boy, Doyoung. Don’t let (Y/n) go too crazy.” Something bubbles in your stomach as you overhear the conversation. It’s not your mother teasing you, no. That’s a common occurrence in your household. It’s the sudden realization that your mother is right, that Doyoung is good in every sense of the word. He’s kind, and patient, and attentive, and so painstakingly good.

“I can’t make any promises.” His voice floats through the air like song lyrics, creating a harmony with the sound of the front door closing and the radio crackling in a way that tugs at your heart strings, “Looks like it’s just you and me, princess.” 

“When are you going to stop calling me that?” You ask while moving towards the boy and taking the heavy jugs from his hands. Well, trying to at least. He presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose (an action that’s become casual between the two of you, like a secret handshake that you can only share with each other,) before you can actually fully take them.

“Never, now tell me where these go?” You grumble out something about the top of the cabinet, which isn’t even right, while getting the broom from behind your spot at checkout. You start to sweep, but before you can get too far with that there’s one hand undoing your apron and another taking the broom.

“Doyoung, what are you-” He doesn’t let you finish before flashing wide eyes at you. It’s a look that you didn’t think he could make, lips puckering into a pout while his eyebrows furrow cutely.

“Let me help.” The plea is soft, yet spoken in a way that tells you he’s not going to compromise, “You’ve been working all afternoon, so let me help now.” His chest is pressed up against yours, and he’s holding your apron, and his lips are so close to yours that if he leaned in just one extra inch... Who are you to say no to that?

Letting someone else work isn’t all that bad, honestly. You have time to dust off the register, empty out the tip jar- which are all things that usually go forgotten until the next days opening. You’re about to reorganize the nail polish out of sheer boredom, but then a certain red color catches your eye and before you know what’s happening you’re receiving a manicure. From yourself, but it’s a manicure nonetheless. 

“I like that color.” Doyoung comments while materializing in the seat across from you. If it weren’t for the soft humming that he’s producing, you would have probably jumped, “Matches my ride.” A soft giggle slips past your lips as you admire your already painted hand.

“Now that you mention it, I guess it does.” You move to finish your non dominant hand, falling into a comfortable kind of silence with the boy across from you. Similar to face kisses, this has become something normal for the two of you. Quiet that was once filled with awkwardly heavy breathing and sweaty palms is now occupied by understanding. This silence doesn’t expect anything, but will accept it gladly. Like Doyoungs humming, or the sound of your foot tapping rhythmically beneath the manicure station. It doesn’t have to be quiet, it doesn’t have to be loud, it just has to be comfortable.

“What does nail polish feel like?” If anyone else had spoken, you’d regard it as breaking the peace. But it’s not anyone else, it’s Doyoung and he’s only added.

“Like nothing, I guess, but also a bit heavy? It feels tacky even after drying.” You’re about to put the cap back on the bottle and really close up for tonight, but before you can process what’s happening two of Doyoungs fingers are cradled in the palm of your hand and he’s staring at you with a gentle smile.

“Show me.” It’s an odd request, I mean who’s really that curious about how nail polish feels? But Doyoung is so precious like this, and his hands are obnoxiously soft. With two swipes of the newly wetted nail polish brush, his pointer and middle fingers are adorned with glossy cherry red. It almost matches the shade on his cheeks, “You’re right, it is kinda heavy. Pretty though.”

“Y-yea.” You choke, eyes gluing to the soft curve of his lips, “Pretty.”

If Doyoungs friends make fun of him the next day for showing up to the shop with a dumb grin and two cherry red fingernails, he doesn’t tell you about it.

*

Doyoung is sweet with you. When you’re hard at work he brushes stray hairs off of your forehead, he brings in new records to listen to every Wednesday. Your favorite thing is when you walk out after closing and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. Doyoung is very sweet. With you.

But there are other people. Like the boys from the school across town who exclusively wear their hair up in a quiff and like to drive by your school during football games. The boys who smoke cigarettes and always have busted up knuckles. You’ve even seen Donghyuck with the same knuckles, groaning each time that they grazed anything. You know that Doyoung isn’t sweet to everyone. You know that Doyoung gets into fights. You just didn’t know that he looks like this afterwards.

“Evening, princess.” The boy grumbles while sauntering into the parlor thirty minutes after closing. You remember thinking that it was weird when he didn’t show up after class let out, smelling like rosemary and wearing a grin. Now you think that he looks heartbreaking with a small cut on his cheek and purple blossoming over the curve of his neck.

“Doyoung, what did you do?” You question, hands immediately dropping the tips you were counting and instead covering your mouth. He only grumbles and shakes his head dismissively, leaning down in front of you in a way that says he’s not going to tell you, “You don’t get to do that, Doyoung. You don’t get to show up like this and not tell me what happened.” Another groan generates from the base of his throat. There’s a red cut there, you notice.

“I didn’t do anything, it was those greasers from across town.” It’s not clear when your hands take purchase on his face, or when his eyes glass over with tears that you thought were impossible, “It hurts.” Something about those words feels so intimate, like he’s taken off the leather jacket and the tough facade and shown you what he really is. Shown you that he’s just a boy. 

He thinks that you saying, “I’ll fix it,” shows just as much about you. 

You exit to the bathroom while Doyoung pushes himself onto the checkout counter, hissing loudly when his raw palms connect with the metal top. That pain feels stupid compared to actually having the cuts cleaned out.

“Hurts like a bitch.” He grunts as you press a cold rag onto the hollow of his throat, voice taking on a low tone that makes your cheeks flush.

“I’m sorry.” An arm comes up to wrap around your waist as he lets out a deep groan, holding onto that spot as though it’s a tether. It shouldn’t make your heart flutter the way that it does. Doyoung is against you, and he’s squirming ever so slightly whenever your hands move, and he’s letting out the most beautiful sounds, and it shouldn’t make your heart flutter, “It’s clean, I-I’m gonna bandage it now...” Doyoung pulls his head back so that you can fully see him, then nods gently.

“Go ahead.” He’s going to kiss you. His lips are less than two inches away from your lips, and you really really think that he’s going to kiss you. He tilts his head back in a way that exposes every delicate line and curve, including the thin red one that you want to make better more than anything, “Patch me up, princess.” Your thumb smooths over the bandage once it’s down, and he keens into the touch. It makes you genuinely smile for the first time since he walked into the store, “I love to see that.”

“You do?” You question, connecting your eyes with his mocha brown ones. 

“I do.” His free hand comes up to caress your cheek, but the mental image of him shuddering as your skin swipes over his fresh cut is enough to keep your hands where they are. 

“Never get in a fight like this again and I’ll smile for you for forever.” His eyes take you in, flushed expression, red cheeks, your face resting in his hands. You flash him another gentle smile, and he doesn’t even have to think about his answer.

“Consider it done.”

*

It would be difficult to sum up Doyoungs relationship with your family, but a good place to start would be that he’s your dads best friend. And also your moms favorite child. Also your crush, in the most destructive way possible. With Doyoung you don’t care about homework, or who wants their nails what color, or the spot of dust that you missed while cleaning. All that matters is his sweet scent and the way that he laughs.

Which is exactly why saying no to him is so hard right now.

“C’mon princess, just let me take you out.” The boy begs for the thousandth time, voice taking on a more flirty tone than the past three asks. Your cheeks flush pink while you look down and busy yourself with anything else.

“Doyoung please, I’m busy!” As soon as the word leaves your mouth your father is wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skin of your temple the same way that he does after school or a busy weekend.

“Busy with what, sweetie pie?” His voice has always been one of your favorite sounds. It’s low and kind, and so comforting that it hurts.

“The store, I can’t leave mom alon-” Before the words are even finished the woman in question is standing next to Doyoung, ruffling his hair affectionately and casting a smile to you.

“We’re covered, sweetie pie. You ankle biters go have some fun!” Doyoung grins the way that he only does around this quartet before gripping your arm from across the counter.

“B-but I’m scheduled to work tonight.” Everyone locks eyes, then lets out a loud sight in almost perfect unison.

“When’s the last time you’ve taken a night off?” You think for a minute, then hold up three manicured fingers, “Three weeks without a break is bonkers (Y/n!)”

“She doesn’t mean weeks, mam. She means three months.” Your mothers jaw goes slack as your fathers eyes widen. You think that no one’s looked this shocked since Donghyuck caught on fire in tenth grade chemistry. 

You’re out the door and buckled into your favorite boys convertible in less than a minute. No one seemed to be too worried about your persistent screams of ‘Wait, I’m still in my uniform!’

“Don’t worry princess, I’ll let you change.”

“My aprons gonna get dirty.” You huff, silently praying that Doyoung won’t notice the red of your cheeks. Obviously, that doesn’t happen.

“Now your nails and your face match my car.” The comment comes back to haunt you when you’re staring into your closet, hating absolutely every piece of clothing in sight. There’s something in the back of your mind, though, something that makes your heart flutter. The thought of leaving your house in a dress that’s been worn twice (a dress that was really just bought for fun) and watching Doyoung smile the way that he does when you’ve done something out of character... It’s enough to make you sing.

The dress is a fluffy thing, with nearly three layers of tulle beneath it’s skirt. White polka dots are scattered around the red fabric, and the silhouette finishes with a sweet heart neckline. It’s very not you. You’re not the girl who puts on pretty red dresses and goes out with boys who drive convertibles. You’ve always wanted to be her, but you just aren’t. You’re the girl who spends Friday evenings doing homework in the library. The girl who likes working at the family business.

But then there’s Doyoung. A boy that you’re nearly dating, who’s not ruining you. No, he’s helping you step into yourself, the way that you do into a red dress with white polka dots. 

When you come out of the front door the boy in question physically chokes. It makes your freshly painted lips spread into a genuine, carefree smile.

“Do I still match the car?” He nods fervently in response, eyes going as soft as butter, “Good! That’s what I was going for.” For the entire drive he keeps a hand on your thigh. 

There’s a solid ten minutes where you don’t think that he’s actually going to take you anywhere, just leave you to be paraded around town and whipped by the wind. It’s a short lived concern though, because after the third ridiculous back road he’s pulling into the lot of your local park (a cute setting, complete with a wooden castle and a petite duck pond.) 

“Doyoung, what exactly are we doing here?” You question as he helps to hoist you out of the car. The question isn’t met with an answer, only him holding up a finger while popping the lid of his trunk. You’re not entirely sure what you’re expecting to see, but you are entirely sure that it’s not what you do see.

Because Doyoung is standing in front of you wearing jeans with a rip that starts right above his knee and extends to the bottom of his shin. There’s ink black hair swooping over his forehead, there’s a cut on his cheek, there’s a leather jacket hugging his shoulders. There’s all of that, then there’s also a picnic blanket in his hands and two paper bags from your local diner in his hands.

“I’m very glad that you said yes.” He says finally. You think to yourself that you are too.

He leads you to the duck pond, carefully laying the blanket over damp grass before guiding you to sit on it. If it were any other day you would force him to let you help, but each time you try to assist he swats your hands away. Part of you wonders if it’s to repay you for taking care him last week. The other part of you knows that it’s just because he’s Doyoung. He’s feeding you french fries and laughing too loud at every story that you tell because he is sweet, and attentive, and real. Because he’s Doyoung. 

“Tell me more about your parents.” The boy exhales while falling backwards onto the picnic blanket. He looks so beautiful like this, relaxed with his hair fluffing out in every direction and a natural grin creeping onto his lips. It makes you want to sit here and talk to him stories for forever.

“Where to start?” You chuckle, pushing up onto your elbows so that you can see Doyoungs cute listening face, “They met in high school, got married at eighteen and nineteen, had me about three years later... I remember when mom opened the store they fought a lot, but they’ve never been bad. I always knew that no matter how loud they shouted or how rude they were that I’d always find them dancing together in the kitchen after dinner.” His lip quivers a bit before quirking into a smile that verges on laughter.

“Dancing in the kitchen?” Your shoulders shake with a giggle as he moves to push hair away from your eyes. Something inside of you wants to stay like this for forever.

“Yea, they started doing that when they first got married. Dad says that it’s just something that they do, but I think it’s because he loves her too much to go a day without it.”

Doyoung is going to tell you that he feels the same. It comes out as “Would you like to dance?”

A month ago you would’ve laughed it off and mentioned that there’s no music, or that you’re in public. Now you spring up from the blanket with his hand in yours, and dance carelessly. In public, to no music, hand in hand with Kim Doyoung.

It’s all playful, just lingering touches and childlike smiles. He laughs under his breath, then out loud. The sound alone draws you in like a sirens call, leaving you nestled up in his arms as if it’s the last place on earth. You look up at him with a giggle, he looks down at you with an exhale, then the two of you are crashing your lips together as if it’s what they were made to do.

His lips are chapped, and palms feel soft where they’re cradling your cheeks, and his hold is gentle while still being firm, and he’s never going to let you slip through. He’s kissing like he’s never going to let you slip through his fingers.

When his hands grasp the smallest part of your waist to pull you close, every last bone in your body turns into jelly. This kiss feels like the universe is falling into place, like with each subtle movement from his dry lips he’s correcting a problem that you didn’t even know you had. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you think of forever. That makes you want forever.

“Doyoung?” You breathe heavily while pulling back to rest your forehead on his. The hair on his forehead feels just as soft as you’d imagined. 

“Yes?” He looks at you with wide eyes that bore into the very core of your being. For the first time, it’s okay that someone sees that.

“Please never stop kissing me.” The boy in front of you chuckles lowly before pressing another kiss to your lips. It’s softer this time, leaving your chest with a feeling that’s like sunshine on your skin. When he pulls away you nearly whine, which would be more embarrassing than you even know how to express if the boy against you wasn’t equally as needy.

“You can count on that one, princess.” He smooths his thumb over your cheek, lightly grazing the corner of your mouth as he does so, “You can count on that.”