#so it feels more bittersweet than like completely sad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slu7formen · 7 months ago

Note

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her like this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

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schoenht · 2 months ago

Text

↳ the four times he sees the moon and stars in your eyes

character: ace trappola

synopsis: dancing is a language that is felt instead of heard, and he can feel it with every time he sees you move like silk

a/n: HAPPY LATE BDAY NATSUME @kunikame HERE'S MY BDAY PRESENT TO YOU </3 got inspired over there and. we all know how it went so it is EXTREMELY late i am so so so sorry

when he knows that you're not having a good day

He's memorized your favorite song, by beat, by melody, by note. A single note from any other song reminds him of you and all he can see is the corner of your lips flitting upwards, knowing this was the one song you adored more than anything.

One he makes you do because you're having a sad day and he just blasts your favorite song that he knows won't stop you from at least moving your head to the beat. Or swaying it from side to side. Those little moments are the ones that he holds close to his heart, even if he refuses to ever say it out loud. Unlike his symbolic counterpart, he does not wear his heart on his sleeve. He refuses to, for he will never chase someone that could not possibly fall for him back.

Ace can usually tell when you're in a bad mood and it doesn't take him long to figure out the reason why, even if you haven't told him. He says he's just smart like that, no. He knows that he cares about you so deeply that it is impossible for him not to know why you are in a bad mood.

He'll show up, play your favorite song, and ask, "Maybe a nap?"

"Ace, I can't nap with music playing."

"Pathetic."

But he knows this too. He looks at you like you've hung all the stars and the moon. There are times he believes you have. He hides it, believing that you are the sun to his moon: only bits of each other seen, never fully embracing the other.

2. when you are surrounded by your friends

"Epel, I am losing to you, I don't care that you're from the country!"

"You say that now, but I'm goin' to make you eat your words!"

"How about you--oh, it's starting!"

Ace sat next to Deuce as he watched you dance to a new game that Crowley had given you for Christmas. However, you didn't have a console. So the first years all scrounged around and got enough money to buy you one, co-owned by the others. And tonight was the night for Ramshackle to host a sleepover.

As he watched you nudge Epel aside casually to try and make him concede, his eyes softened. Forgive him for wanting to get too close to the sun, but he wanted to be around you more than he wanted oxygen. You were his oxygen. Even the darkest and gloomiest day could instantly be lit up by you.

No, what was he saying. He couldn't chase after someone who didn't like him. He was not Icarus, he wouldn't fall.

But oh, as he watched your expression, beaming at the small numbers on the screen, he knew he would plunge into the depths of the ocean if only for the promise that you would be on the sea floor, waiting for him.

Before he knew it, it was his turn. He got up quickly and grabbed Epel's controller. You pointed at Ace with your controller. "Be warned, Ace, I have not lost a single game to this dance and I don't plan on starting now."

"Big talk, you only wave your hands around to win! You don't fully dance!"

Your banter made his chest warm with affection for you. He loved it when this happened. With each word you tossed at each other, he knew that he would leave every single thing behind for you, if only for a glance from you.

3. when you are too close to him, willingly

The end of the final year was always bittersweet. Ace had grown through the years, becoming much more mature but still upholding his title as a complete lovable dumbass. Somehow, he became the housewarden, Deuce at his side. They would bicker a lot and it showed that even after all this time, they never changed. Occasionally, some of the new first years would ask if Deuce was actually the housewarden, to which Ace would be outraged.

"Can you believe that?! They thought Juice was the housewarden! Is this crown just an accessory to them!?"

You picked up another rock, checking for its smoothness. "Uh huh."

"You're not even listening!"

"No, I meant 'uh huh' as in I agree, they think it's an accessory."

Ace poked you, his lips downturned. "You think I'm stupid, don't you?"

You raised an eyebrow as you extended your hand out for him. In your hold was a smooth rock. "Your brain is as wrinkly as this rock."

"Love you too."

Ace goes back to his dorm, where Deuce is waiting for him. Deuce glances at him quizzically and then squints. As much bravado as Ace has, he knows that Ace is deep down a coward around you. "You didn't ask them to the dance, did you?"

"They insulted me--"

"No, they didn't. Answer the question."

The ginger shook his head, letting out a long and weary sigh. He had had a crush on you for the past three years and yet somehow, he had never once been able to hang out with you alone. No, either Deuce or Grim had to join you. And now he only had one shot to ask you to a dance. Perhaps he could go big. No, that wouldn't help. He would look stupid. This was so hard and for no reason. But he knew what Riddle would say if he was there. "Stop being foolish. You must do what you are meant to do." Granted, he was talking about following the rules, but he knew it applied in this case.

Sure enough, it had worked out in his favor. He claimed that he had never been nervous, but of course Deuce had to debunk that. He had been shaking like a chihuahua at the prospect of even asking you to the final dance of the school year.

The night was young and lively, with bubbling excitement from the third years. It would be their turn to leave next and once they did, the possibilities would be endless.

Endless, Ace thought. It was a synonym for forever, eternity even. If he didn't act soon, he could lose you for that time.

So he shoved aside his so called "pride" and went to you. "Dance with me."

"Wow, no asking anymore?"

He couldn't hold back a snort. "Okay, fine. Will you dance with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Oh, how lovely was it to have you in his arms, just the two of you in your own little world. The party had slowed during this part of the night and its stillness, its calm was what made Ace realize he would rather burn than lose you. Maybe he would burn from staring at you for too long. Every star had its final dazzling moment before collapsing, after all. It seemed impossible for that to happen to you. The universe's vastness could not compare to the overwhelming emotions that belonged to him. He couldn't take it anymore.

The moon needed its sun desperately.

4. when the world stops to hold only the two of you in its hands

Domesticity was a word that he never believed in. He had a lot of energy to spare, ready for any spontaneous adventures, shenanigans and schemes.

All of that stopped when your union to him came along. He had asked the biggest question of his life a year ago and now, here you were, right in front of him as you made yourself a warm drink at 2 in the morning. You weren't tired, or more so, Ace knew that you struggled to sleep these days. So he would stay up with you.

He walked over as you stared at the bubbling pot, seemingly lost in your own little headspace. With a soft spoken voice, he gently called for your name. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just thinking." You fiddled with your ring, the one that matched his.

Ace knew this mood of yours very well. He looked out the window, the sky dark and sprinkled with hundreds of stars. The earth seemed to be asleep, making them the only people in the universe in his mind.

With a small tug of your hands in his, he took you into his arms as he slowly began to sway with you. Side to side, a small two step. Ace was not much of a singer besides that one VDC competition back at NRC. Yet his favorite song was the one he danced with you on the day you were wed. Even now he hummed it softly as he hugged you close, afraid that if he let go, you would be far from his grasp.

But you would merely look up at him, eyes to his red ones, and it would calm him down. No, he wasn't afraid of losing you anymore. How could he? He planted a soft kiss to your head. "I love you."

"I love you too. Go to bed."

"No, you."

"Fine. Both of us."

Ace agreed, it only seemed like a fair trade. He turned off the stove and followed you to bed, curled up on you like he had grown accustomed to.

Your beginning was that of a galaxy, far out of reach and, while never getting into eternity's territory, it became that of a binary star system: gravitationally bound to each other.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x mc #twisted wonderland x mc #ace x mc #ace trappola x mc #ace x reader #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola x y/n #ace x y/n #ace trappola x yuu #ace x yuu #ace trappola x you #ace x you #guys i forgot how to write

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pacentia · 1 year ago

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Title: Forest Lovers

Pairing: (established relationship) slightly dom non-ascended!Astarion x reader WITH VOYEUR GALE

Setting: act 3 beginning, right after shadow cursed lands

Word count: 2,218

Tags: voyeuristic Gale, bloodsucking, vaginal sex, forest sex, pussy eating, L-bombs, body worship, slightly sad Gale

Synopsis: Gale wonders where his Muse (reader) went off to. Stumbles upon her fucking Astarion in the woods 🫠

Author's note: some random ass ideas come into my head in the middle of the night. Couldn't let go of it so I had to write it down lmaoo - please enjoy

It was nice - being out in pure sunlight again after spending God knows how long in the Shadow Cursed Lands. Gale never thought about missing cobblestone streets beneath his feet, the vibrancy of Rivington made him feel alive again. It wasn't his tower in Waterdeep, nor his very own study - cuddling with Tara, but this would do. And, it would all be over soon, according to the pack leader, because she would take the fight to the Elder Brain.

Gale admired her for quite some time, well - ever since he set eyes on her after stumbling out of that damned broken portal. He had dropped some hints here and there, but she never quite fully indulged him in his desires. She remained so incredibly kind and supportive though - for everyone - during their long journey.

The vampire Astarion had her heart a thousand times. It's the way she looked at him, and the way the broken man softened in her company that Gale knew these two were soulmates, destined for each other. It felt bittersweet - watching them kiss in public. Hold hands. Embrace each other around the campfire. Of course, if she preferred somebody cold and undead - that was entirely her choice.

The night before the party would venture forth to Baldur's Gate - Astarion and her were nowhere to be found. Not present in each of their tents, nor in the campsite. Gale felt a little concerned because of that, because tomorrow was a big day and everyone needed a well deserved rest. Who knows what overcame her - the woman he cared for so deeply. And so the wizard cast an invisibility spell and ventured deeper into the nearby forest.

Gentle moonlight cast over the forest and the stars shone bright that night. It was quiet and calm, the two nowhere to be seen nor heard until -

Two completely bared souls entwined in one another, passionately kissed in the middle of the forest, no place left untouched on their bodies. The silver haired vampire and his muse. Gale's muse.

His jaw went slack from surprise and he suddenly felt greatly inappropriate for stumbling onto this incredibly private moment but…

Gale just couldn't look away, respectfully, of course. Her body had the likes of a true Goddess - his imagination before had done him so wrong. She was even more beautiful than in his wildest dreams. Astarion was… surprisingly gentle with her. His hold on her was protective and firm but the kisses that he planted on her lips, cheeks and breasts were so soft.

Gale, you damned pervert. He complained to himself, pinching his brow. He could leave now, and forever hold his tongue or he could just… Watch just a few more seconds.

Her fingers wrapped around Astarion's aching hard cock - Hells, the man was big - and started teasing him playfully. The vampire reciprocated - wetted his long, pale digits on his tongue and pleasured her beautiful pussy. Gale swallowed, unaware that he was pitching a huge tent in his purple robes.

"Oh sweet darling…" The vampire moaned in absolute pleasure, burying his head full of untamed silver curls in her neck. She just pulled him into the most amorous embrace as she closed her eyes, lips slightly parted as she felt her vampire's fangs graze her neck. This made her moan in delight - of course - as she was bloodless every damned day. Her hand gently caressed Cazador's scars on his sculpted back while her other hand worked his erection.

"I need you, Astarion." She voiced needily, her feminine hips bucking into the vampire's cold touch. "Need you inside me… Please…"

Gale swallowed - feeling too hot in his robes right there. He just fantasized he was in Astarion's place, feeling her magic hands work his own cock - making him twitch in the process. Astarion was going to take her right there, on the soft bed of overgrown grass, next to their pile of clothes.

It's as if he had chosen the perfect spot. Astarion had guided her down gently, her legs spread out incredibly wide before her lover. Gale could see the glistening of her folds - how completely drenched she was for her vampire. Delicious, it looked.

Astarion's hands caressed her perfect body. Breasts, hips. Kissed inside of her thighs - working his way up to her toned calves until her feet. He worshipped her like a real Goddess. As he should. A sweet smile spread across her face as she watched Astarion show how much he desired her.

"I love you." She confessed sweetly, completely spread in front of him. It's the way her eyes shone with adoration that you could tell she really meaned it. She's completely in love with her vampire. Goodness, Gale never anticipated being hurt by seeing the scenario unfold before his voyeuristic eyes, a sharp tightening in his chest overtaking him. Neverminding his obvious pain, Gale continued watching.

The vampire then lowered his head to her sex, and pressed a soft kiss on her clitoris. Dripping wet, needy for him. "My sweetheart, I love you more than anything." The vampire whispered, kissing her folds again with such careful love. Her hands sunk into his silver curls, letting her head fall back in the grass. Astarion utterly devoured her, nuzzling into her sex, licked her until she was a squirming mess. He suckled on her sensitive bud, gently sinking two of his cold fingers deep inside her.

Gale just needed to watch this a little closer. So he could really admire her angelic pussy. Study how she liked to be pleasured - learn from… Astarion's seduction. He inched further, so that he watch in detail how Astarion licked and fingered her.

Astarion's fingers gently dipped in and out of her drenched folds, his tongue swiping back and forth over her clitoris. His sharp fangs were bared, reminding her what he truly was - her vampire. Everyone knew at camp that this excited her incredibly, eager to feel his fangs dig into her neck every night. God's, she was so sinful.

"Star… I'm… close..!" She warned him, one hand tangled in his silver curls, the other one gripping onto the grass soil beside her. Her legs were shaking, hips bucking while Astarion expertly pleasured her. "Then cum, my love. On my lips." The vampire ordered.

What a sight it was to behold, her body coming down from such an incredible high. His name was on her lips like a melody as she shivered in her lover's hold. Gale knew he should leave right now - but then Astarion just climbed over her body, and guided his dripping hard cock inside her drenched pussy. Fuck. He could just. Not. Look. Away.

"Did you enjoy that, sweet love?" Astarion whispered, sinking as deep as possible into her. He didn't even falter in his speech - Gale would've surely have.

"Y-yes, my love… God's - forgot how… big you were…" Immediately she enclasped her legs around his waist, the aftershocks of her orgasm begging the vampire to get deeper inside her. Her arms clung around his back, holding his scars ever so gently. Astarion chuckled at her response, "How dare you, darling?" The man smirked. "But you do remember how - good - it felt?" Emphasizing the words with the rhythm of his vigorous hips, the vampire pumped into her unrelentingly, chasing after his own orgasm.

"Y-yes Astarion - fuck… Your cock feels incredible…You're so big, so powerful, so beautiful…" She gasped, her pretty moans bellowed deep into the forest. Astarion seemed to enjoy her praise, rewarding her with kisses, licks and nuzzles.

Gale's trousers were completely soaked in his own pleasure - how could he not - watching such a beautiful woman reach her high out in the open. He figured he was too far gone already and sneaked his fingers under his robe - cupping himself - until he decided to take out his own length and stroke himself. He still had to concentrate on casting his invisibility, if he'd fail - he figured he'd just explode his Netherese orb.

"Will you get on your pretty hands and knees for me, sweet darling? I want to feel you as deep as possible, please…" Astarion sighed in pleasure, ragged breath overtaking him when he stopped thrusting. She nodded heavily, just carrying out whatever her vampire needed. God's how devoted she was to him, completely wrapped around his finger. She shifted her body exactly as Astarion asked - and the hungry man immediately mounted her like a horny stallion.

Certainly, he had read this in one of his lewd novels in his library, but he'd never seen such lust up close, nor experienced it for himself . Mystra never let him.

Astarion growled like a beast, thrusting every inch of him inside her wet cunt. Eventually he pulled her into his lap, pumping up inside of her. She was completely on display for Gale, breasts swinging, Astarion's hands roamed her delicate body, until he swept her hair from beautiful neck, and wrapped his hand around her throat.

"Darling, your blood smells so delicious tonight…" He moaned, inhaling the scent of her neck, grazing his fangs over previous puncture wounds from his own teeth.

Gale swallowed, pleasuring his cock faster, harder. He was about to witness him setting his fangs into her - God's, wouldn't that hurt her? She seemed even more eager than before, rubbing herself, arching her neck more - she wanted it desperately. Longing for him to mark her as his.

"Ask me, sweet darling. What do you need?" Astarion teased, his hands digging into her breasts, using them as leverage for his thrusts. "Tell me what you so desperately crave."

She giggled at his statement, teasing him right back, "Love, aren't you the one who's starved? You crave my blood."

Astarion's wits seemed to fail him, and buried his face in her neck. "Darling, do not play with me like that… I'm incredibly hungry - Starved, if you will." He continued kissing her neck, dragging his tongue over the pulsing arteries and veins. "You know I'm a very dangerous vampire, and your jugular is right next to me." He teased playfully.

She giggled at his lighthearted intimidation, turned her face to stare into his deep red eyes. "Then bite, Astarion. My blood is yours."

Nothing the vampire liked hearing more as he continued to pound into her, only now - he latched onto her neck, and buried his fangs deeply. She visibly winced in his hold, obviously in pain as Astarion sucked her blood out. So this is what she's been going through almost every evening since meeting the vampire near the Grove. Gale's cock twitched at the sight before him, close to own climax. All of this was so private, intimate. She willingly surrendered her neck to the vampire with such love.

"God's, s-so… delicious…" Astarion whined in bliss, his hips starting to give out - thrusts becoming erratic. Her body initially freezed against him - until a few gulps of blood later, she started feeling dizzy, two taps onto his thigh stopped his bloodthirsty urges.

Astarion released with a growl, bloody fangs bared, his chin and lips tainted with her hot, red blood. Drunk on her, he lapped up the remnants on her neck, kissing her, holding onto her for dear life. "So f-fucking delicious, darling. I -I'm close." Astarion panted as he grit his teeth like a beast, blood dripping from his chin, his tongue licking the remnants of his chin.

Nothing had prepared Gale for her desperate pleading.

"Please, Astarion… Fill my cunt, need your cum deep inside - please, cum!"

Gale wrapped one hand around his mouth, shutting himself up as he spilled all over the woodland ground, silencing his heavy breath watching their lovemaking end.

Astarion erupted deep inside of her perfect cunt - God's how Gale wished he was the one absolutely filling her to the brim. The vampire growled, pumping her full of his essence, tongue licking the remnants of blood off of her neck. Astarion was a filthy, filthy man - Gale remarked. Well, he had already anticipated that from all of his quirky mannerisms and slick talk.

The couple lay spent on the grass, cuddling in the afterglow of their pleasures, looking up to the stars.

"Need this everyday, Astarion. It's been too long." She whispered, and he rolled over on his side, gently caressing her stomach.

"Well, we can do it everyday now, darling." The vampire smirked, pressing a small kiss against her cheek. In turn, she wiped a streak of blood off of his chin, and made him suck her finger clean. Astarion indulged her with the greatest pleasure - as long as blood was involved. Gale didn't know why that made his cock stir.

The two cleaned themselves up, and he made notice on how she wiped her cunt with a particular cloth, throwing it away in the bushes - well - wouldn't it be a shame to… let it go uninspected later? They got dressed again in their camp clothes, joked some more and left.

The couple walked hand in hand right past Gale, still invisible of course - until Astarion stopped his footsteps to take in the air.

"What is it lover, did you hear a squirrel you could feed on?" She grinned, to which the vampire playfully poked her.

"Worse, darling. It smells like… Gale here. Well, nevermind."

Gale had never gone red so badly in his entire life.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion #help #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #gale x reader #gale x you

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 3 months ago

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Could we have main 10 with a kid who surprises their dad by writing about them being the kid's hero for a school assignment or something?

Undertale Sans - Aw. Sans cares a hell lot than what people think and never asks the same for other because he thinks he doesn't desserve this. It's like getting hit by a car honestly, he didn't expect that from his child and maybe he can authorizes himself to cry a little for once. It actually feels nice to have someone showing him unconditional love for once.

Undertale Papyrus - Honestly, no one can hear anything during the presentation because of Papyrus' loud sniffing in the background lol. He's really trying his best to stay cool but the more his kid is going, the harder it gets. Undyne is kinda playing moral support, mainly trying to make him shut up because her kid is supposed to talk next and now she's terrified she will break down like Papyrus lmao.

Underswap Sans - He knows it's not very fair of him to be flattered as he never really wanted that child in the first place. He feels guilty he was never there, almost always working, and that their child still doesn't care and sees him as a model. He wants to be better for them, but it's hard to accept he's actually a good dad when he told himself he's terrible for so long.

Underswap Papyrus - Honey is a mess lol. He doesn't see clear anymore because of how much he cried and his kid's presentation is still not over. He's not sure he's going to be able to see the whole thing, he swears he's going to break down completely in a few seconds and just bursts in loud sobs. That's kinda the best gift his kid could give him. He's just a little too overwhelmed at the moment to appreciate it entirely. That's his baby on the stage and he's so so proud of them.

Underfell Sans - He doesn't know what to feel about this. It's touching, but... It feels wrong. He's not a good guy, he did a hell lot of mistakes in his life, he let monsters stepped on him a good part of his life and he doesn't fully understand how his child can see him like a hero. He's just weak. He smiles to his child, but his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. Time passes but he still has a lot of insecurities. He's still happy at least one person doesn't see him like a total loser.

Underfell Papyrus - He's so damn proud right now. It's Edge longest dream to be a hero, and ok, he maybe failed to be that Underground because the Royal Guard was not exactly like he imagined it was, but he at least is a hero for someone. He's going to cherish that little letter for a very long time. He can't even tell his child how much it's important to him. He guesses he moved on for good of all the suffering Underground, now it's time to finally accept he's not that bad.

Horrortale Sans - He puts the small letter in his notebook so he can never forget it. Oak doesn't know what he did to desserve a child like this, but it's for sure nice. He is finally under the impression he's moving on, despite all the guilt and the hard years that followed his arrival on the Surface. He's just glad he can be a normal father despite all his traumas and weird behaviours. He's proud of his kid, and maybe a litte proud of himself for getting better. Hopefully, he's going to be fine.

Horrortale Papyrus - Willow is not ok. He was not ready to be absolutely destroyed by his child who somehow managed to hit him in each and every of his vulnerabilities. It's still hard to accept he's a good dad after everything he did, and how bad his health is, but here he is, his child reading a list of all the nice things they think of him and he can't take it. He can't stop thinking that if he didn't live through what happened Underground, he would have feel very good to be loved that much. But it's just bittersweet. He doesn't desserve any of this. He's glad he taught his kid to see the best in anyone, but he never thought that could comes back to his face some day. He's happy, and embarrassed, and sad, and happy. He's so lost right now.

Swapfell Sans - That's a beautiful revenge. He's looking Toriel in the eyes as his kid says he's the best dad ever and all the nice thing he did for them. Toriel tried all she could to make him drop that child and his S/O, sending monsters to his door, and then, when he didn't work, she tried to convince him he would be a terrible dad, that his child would hate him when they see he's just a cold blood killer. And all of this because he refused to be her heir. Nox can't stop smiling. He doubted, he even almost believed her at one point, but here he is. He's his kid's hero, and there's nothing the Queen can do to change that. He didn't messed up this time. And soon enough, the Queen will have to accept he's not scared of her anymore and to let him go. He's not a soldier anymore, he's a father. He won.

Swapfell Papyrus - ... He reads the letter a second time, really suspicious. Ok, what's the deal? You want something? You broke something and you need him to cover up in front of his S/O? You can say it you know, he won't get mad. Sure, his ego will hurt for a little while, but he understands. But when his kid says it's genuine, actually, Rus is just a little in shock. Uh... You know he's not a model, right? He's a loser and he messes up all the time. What do you mean he's your hero? He's no one's hero. You had the wrong guy. Rus doesn't know what to say. He's so used to people faking loving him that he struggles to believe it. He cries a bit that night, thinking about all this. Shit, someone actually cares for him and it's real. He's so confused.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Please go on, continue. The more flattering you are, the better. Wine obviously knows he is the best, and the fact his child is confirming it makes things a lot much better! You swear you heard something that vaguely sound like a purr, but he quickly hides it so you can't tell. Wine loves when people say nice things about him, and especially his family. It's good for his huge ego and it feels nice. It changes. Maybe he should make more children so it happens more often.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He was a little sad because all of this sounded like a praise to Uncle Wine and he thought you chose him as his family hero. So when you end your speech saying all of this is your dad, he is in complete shock. He's paralyzed, his brain not able to process what just happened. What do you mean it's him? That's not him. He's not that special. He's barely able to work as his own being. Coffee is a bit overwhelmed, and runs on stage to hug his child. For once, he doesn't care everyone is looking at him (for now at least, thanks adrenaline), he's just so happy. No one told him he was special, except Wine, but it was always to justify his bad actions. So it feels nice to have someone considering special for once. He doesn't want to let go. He loves you too.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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chosok-amo · 5 months ago

Text

CUPID : GOJO SATORU

out of 8 billion hearts I fell for the heart that doesn't beat for me. sometimes cupid runs out of arrows, ends up shooting one person instead of two

HAPPY ENDING, SHOULD I MAKE THE ANGST ONE?

REQUEST ARE OPEN!!!

MORNING

The morning sun filtered through the classroom windows, casting a warm glow over the room as students trickled in, chatting and laughing after their short break. You sat at your desk, fiddling with your pencil, your mind still clouded by last night's lingering sadness. Despite your best efforts, thoughts of Satoru occupied every corner of your heart and mind.

Just then, the door burst open, and in walked Satoru, his usual bright energy lighting up the room. He spotted you immediately and made a beeline for your desk, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Morning!” he exclaimed, his voice cheerful and warm. Before you could respond, he wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug, pulling you close. Your heart raced, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment, knowing it was fleeting.

“Good morning, Satoru,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Did you miss me?” he teased, his grin widening.

“Of course,” you replied, trying to match his playful tone despite the ache in your chest. Without warning, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, his lips soft and warm against your skin. Your breath hitched, and for a split second, you allowed yourself to imagine that maybe, just maybe, he felt something more for you.

“There, now you're ready for the day,” he said, releasing you from the hug and ruffling your hair affectionately. You forced a smile, your cheek still tingling from his kiss. “Thanks, Satoru. You always know how to brighten my day.” He laughed, the sound like music to your ears. “That's what best friends are for, right?”

Best friends. The words were a cruel reminder of the boundary that stood between you. You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, best friends.” As Satoru took his seat next to you, you couldn't help but steal glances at him, your heart aching with unspoken love. He was so close, yet so far, his affection always just out of reach. You wished you could tell him how you felt, but the fear of losing him as a friend was too great.

Class began, and you tried to focus on the lessons, but your mind kept drifting back to that brief moment when his lips had touched your cheek. It was a bittersweet memory, one that would stay with you for a long time. Throughout the day, Satoru remained his usual self, laughing and joking with you and the others, completely unaware of the turmoil inside you. You smiled and laughed along with him, hiding your true feelings behind a mask of happiness.

When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the day, you gathered your things and prepared to head to the training grounds. Satoru caught up with you, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Hey, want to grab something to eat before training?” he asked, his eyes bright with excitement. You hesitated for a moment, the pain of unrequited love weighing heavily on your heart. But you couldn't bear to push him away, not when he was the one person who made everything seem bearable.

“Sure,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Let's go.”

As you walked together, side by side, you couldn't help but wonder if things would ever change. Would Satoru ever see you as more than just a friend? Or would you always be the one left longing, your heart beating for someone who could never truly be yours?

For now, you decided, you would cherish the moments you had with him, even if they were just as friends. Because sometimes, even unrequited love was worth it for the chance to be close to the one you loved. And so, with Satoru by your side, you faced the day with a mixture of hope and heartache, your love for him a silent, steadfast flame in your heart.

EVENING

The evening sun cast a golden hue over the grounds of Jujutsu High, the shadows stretching long and languid across the training field. You sat alone on the grass, fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt as you watched Satoru Gojo, Geto Suguru, and Ieri Shoko sparring in the distance. Their laughter echoed, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that hung around you.

You and Satoru had grown up together, childhood friends whose bond was supposed to be unbreakable. From the moment you met, you had fallen for his bright blue eyes and infectious energy. He was your best friend, your confidant, and the source of your greatest joy. Yet, despite your closeness, Satoru had never looked at you the way you looked at him.

In your first year at Jujutsu High, you had hoped things might change. You trained harder than ever, trying to impress him, to earn his admiration in a new light. But no matter how strong you became, no matter how many curses you defeated, Satoru always saw you as just a friend. You were his shoulder to lean on, his partner in training, but never the one to make his heart race.

As you sat there, lost in thought, you remembered a time from your childhood. It was a summer day, and you and Satoru had sneaked out to the river near your village. You had played in the water, splashing each other and laughing until your sides hurt. You had thought, just for a moment, that he felt the same way you did. But when you leaned in, hoping for a kiss, Satoru had just ruffled your hair and told you not to be silly. That memory still stung, a painful reminder of your unrequited love.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled you from your reverie. You looked up to see Satoru standing over you, his trademark grin plastered on his face. “Hey, what are you doing all the way over here?” he asked, plopping down beside you.

“Just thinking,” you replied, forcing a smile. “About what?” he pressed, his curiosity piqued. You hesitated, the weight of your feelings threatening to spill over. But you knew better than to burden him with your unspoken love. “Just about training,” you lied. “Wondering how I can improve.” Satoru laughed, a sound that was both comforting and heartbreaking.

“You're already amazing,” he said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Don't be so hard on yourself.” His words should have comforted you, but instead, they only deepened the ache in your chest. “Thanks,” you mumbled, leaning into his touch despite the pain it brought. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the others joined you, and the four of you sat together, watching the stars come out.

You listened to Satoru and Suguru banter, their easy camaraderie a reminder of the bond you all shared.

“So, Satoru,” Suguru began, a playful smirk on his face, “how does it feel to be the second-best sorcerer in the group?” Satoru scoffed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Second best? You must be delusional, Suguru. Everyone knows I’m number one.” Shoko snickered, joining in the teasing. “Careful, Suguru. His ego might just explode and take us all with it.” You laughed, trying to immerse yourself in the lighthearted atmosphere, though your thoughts still lingered on the weight of Satoru’s arm around you.

“Please, Shoko,” Satoru said, feigning hurt, “my ego is perfectly proportioned to my abilities. It’s not my fault I’m just that good.” Suguru leaned back, looking thoughtful. “Well, if you’re so good, maybe you should take on the next mission solo. You know, prove your ‘greatness’ once and for all.” He leaned towards you before putting his head on your lap and smirking at him while he was looking up at the white-haired boy. Satoru looks at you who's just smiling as your hand touches suguru's hair and plays with it.

Satoru rolled his out and pushed Suguru's head away from your lap, throwing a glare at the boy as Suguru rolled his eyes and sat straight. Satoru grinned. “You just want an excuse to slack off. But fine, I’ll do it. And when I come back victorious, you’ll all owe me a round of drinks.”

“Oh, sure,” you chimed in, playing along. “As if you need an excuse to show off, Satoru.” He chuckled, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze as he kisses your cheek. “See? Even Y/n gets it.”

Despite the ache in your heart, you felt a warmth spread through you at his touch, his laughter, and the familiar banter. It was moments like these that made everything worth it, even if it meant hiding your true feelings. As the night grew darker and the stars shone brighter, the conversation eventually giving way to a comfortable silence. The sky was a canvas of constellations, each star a tiny beacon of light in the vast darkness.

Satoru’s arm remained around you, and you closed your eyes, trying to memorize the feeling of being this close to him, even if it was just as friends. The night was filled with unspoken words and hidden emotions, but for now, you were content to simply be in the moment, surrounded by those you cared about.

But even in this moment of togetherness, you felt a profound sense of loneliness. Years had passed, and your love for Satoru had only grown stronger, yet it remained one-sided. You watched him flirt with Shoko, laugh with Suguru, and treat you like a sibling.

It was as if Cupid had missed his mark, striking you with an arrow meant for someone else. As the night grew darker and the others began to drift off to their rooms, Satoru lingered. He looked at you, his expression softening. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low. You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, just tired.” He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Your heart clenched at his words, knowing that no matter how much you wanted to, you could never tell him the truth. “I know,” you whispered, forcing another smile. “Thanks, Satoru.” He smiled back, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something you couldn't quite place.

“Good night,” he said, squeezing your hand before standing up and walking away, leaving with Suguru and Shoko. As you watched him go, you felt the tears you had been holding back begin to fall.

Out of 8 billion hearts, you had fallen for the one that didn't beat for you. Sometimes, it seemed, Cupid did run out of arrows, leaving you to bear the weight of unreturned love alone. You wiped your tears, stood up, and headed to your room.

Tomorrow was another day, another chance to train, to fight, and to hope that maybe, just maybe, Satoru would one day see you the way you saw him. Until then, you would carry on, your love a silent, unspoken promise in your heart.

NIGHT

The dormitory was quiet in the stillness of the night, the only sounds being the occasional creak of the old building and the soft rustle of the wind outside. Everyone was fast asleep, preparing for another grueling day of training and classes. Everyone, that is, except for you.

Curled up in your bed, you stifled your sobs into your pillow, the weight of your unrequited love for Satoru crashing down on you with relentless force. The memory of his kiss on your cheek that morning and evening replayed in your mind, a bittersweet reminder of how close yet how far he truly was. Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to contain the heartache, the walls you had built around your feelings crumbling in the solitude of the night.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru was wandering the halls, unable to sleep himself. His thoughts had been unusually preoccupied with you lately, and he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong. As he passed by your dorm room, he heard the faint sound of crying. His heart skipped a beat, and he paused, concern etched on his face. He knocked softly on your door, his voice gentle.

“Hey, it's Satoru. Can I come in?”

Your breath hitched, and you quickly wiped your tears, trying to steady your voice.

“Y-Yeah, come in.”

Satoru opened the door and stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto your tear-streaked face. Without a word, he crossed the room and sat on the edge of your bed, his expression softening. “What's wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You shook your head, unable to find the words to explain. How could you tell him that he was the cause of your pain, that your heart ached for him in ways he could never understand? Instead, you just looked at him, your eyes pleading for comfort. “Oh Y/n..” Satoru's heart clenched at the sight of your tears. He reached out and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Hey, it's okay,” he murmured. “I'm here.”

Unable to hold back any longer, you broke down, your sobs wracking your body. Satoru pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried against his chest. He whispered soothing words, his hand gently stroking your back in an attempt to calm you.

“It's okay, just let it out,” he whispered. “I'm not going anywhere.” giving you a kiss here and there as he tries to calm you down.

Gradually, your sobs subsided, and you clung to him, the warmth of his embrace offering comfort you hadn't realized you needed. Satoru shifted slightly, lying back on the bed and pulling you with him until you were both lying down. He held you close, his arms wrapped securely around you, and you nestled against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence was filled with unspoken words, the room heavy with the weight of your emotions. Satoru's presence was soothing, and despite the pain in your heart, you felt a sense of peace in his arms. Eventually, Satoru broke the silence, his voice soft. “You know, you can always talk to me. About anything.”

You nodded your voice barely a whisper. “I know. Thank you, Satoru.” He tightened his hold on you, his chin resting on top of your head. “You're important to me,” he said quietly. “I hate seeing you like this.” Your heart ached at his words, knowing that his concern came from a place of friendship rather than the love you longed for. But in that moment, it was enough. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to revel in the closeness, even if it was only temporary.

As the night wore on, your exhaustion began to catch up with you, and you felt yourself drifting off to sleep in Satoru's arms. He stayed awake, watching over you, his mind filled with thoughts he couldn't quite grasp. He didn't know what had caused your tears, but he was determined to be there for you, no matter what.

When morning light began to filter through the curtains, Satoru finally allowed himself to relax, his own eyes growing heavy. He held you close, his heart aching with a protectiveness he didn't fully understand. In the early hours of dawn, with the world still quiet and the pain of the night fading, you both slept, wrapped in each other's warmth.

EVENING, THE NEXT DAY

The evening sun bathed the training grounds in a warm, golden light as you sat on the grass, watching Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko sparring with their usual vigor. Their laughter filled the air, a symphony of camaraderie that brought a bittersweet smile to your face. You admired their skill, the ease with which they moved, and the effortless connection they shared. But your thoughts kept drifting back to last night, to the comfort you had found in Satoru's arms.

With a sigh, you lay back on the grass, your eyes tracing the intricate patterns of leaves against the sky. The gentle rustling of the tree above you was soothing, and you let yourself relax, allowing the cool earth beneath you to ground your swirling emotions.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice Satoru approaching until his shadow fell over you. You looked up to see him grinning down at you, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, not waiting for an answer as he lay down beside you.

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “Not at all.”

Satoru settled himself, slipping his arm beneath your head to create a makeshift pillow. He pulled you closer, and your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected intimacy. His presence was comforting, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace as you lay there together.

For a while, neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the quiet and the warmth of each other's company. The sounds of training and laughter faded into the background, leaving just the two of you beneath the sprawling branches of the tree. Eventually, you gathered the courage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. “Satoru, have you ever thought about... us? Like, being more than just friends?”

He turned his head to look at you, his expression curious and thoughtful. “What do you mean?” You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. “I mean, do you think there's ever a possibility that we could be... together? As more than friends?”

Satoru was silent for a moment, his eyes searching yours. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, his usual confidence replaced by a rare moment of uncertainty. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, as if weighing his words carefully.

“I've always thought of you as my best friend,” he began slowly, his voice gentle. He turned to look at you, his expression thoughtful. “I... I've always valued our friendship, you know that,” he began, his words careful. “But as for something more... I'm not sure.”

His answer pierced your heart like a dagger, though he hadn't outright rejected you. His uncertainty stung, leaving you grappling with a mix of disappointment and a need to save face. You chuckled softly, trying to mask your hurt. “Oh, I see,” you replied, injecting humor into your voice. You turn your head to the side and look up at him as he is already looking down at you.

His blue eyes blended with the orange and pink sky. You turn to your side as you put your arm above his chest, instantly making him pull you closer until your chest touches his side. Palm touched his neck, you said, “So, what you're saying is you're just obsessed with me, but not in a romantic way, right?” Satoru blinked, taken aback by your sudden jest. “Obsessed? Come on, don't twist my words,” he protested, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You shrugged playfully, trying to maintain your composure. “Hey, I've seen the way you look at me sometimes. Can't blame a girl for wondering.” He chuckled, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “You're impossible,” he teased, pinching your nose lightly.

You sighed inwardly, grateful for the diversion your banter provided. Part of you wished he would say something more definitive, even if it meant rejection. The uncertainty gnawed at you, but you couldn't bear to press him further. A comfortable silence hugs both of you, only the sound of Shoko and Suguru sparing and wind could be heard in the background, faded. Your thumb caresses his neck while Satoru keeps stroking your hair, sinking in the silence. At least until Satoru opens his mouth again.

“But... lately, I've been feeling something different. I don't know what it is, but when I saw you crying last night, it hurt me in a way I didn't expect. And holding you, it felt right.” Your breath caught in your throat, hope and fear mingling in equal measure. “So... what does that mean for us?”

Satoru smiled softly, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heartache. “I don't know," he admitted. “But I think it's worth exploring, don't you?” Tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them away, a smile breaking through your uncertainty. “Yeah, I think so too.”

He tightened his hold on you, pulling you even closer. “Let's take it one step at a time,” he said, his voice reassuring. “No pressure, no rush. Just us, figuring things out together.” You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and excitement wash over you. For the first time, you allowed yourself to hope, to believe that maybe, just maybe, Satoru could see you the way you had always seen him.

As the evening light began to fade, you lay there in his arms, the world around you slipping away. In that moment, it was just the two of you, beneath the tree, exploring the possibility of a future together. And for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of true happiness.

“Hey, look who's lazing around while we do all the hard work,” Shoko teased, plopping down beside you. “Maybe I'm just smart enough to know when to take a break,” you shot back, grinning.

Suguru joined you, sitting cross-legged and wiping sweat from his brow. “Or maybe you just like watching us make fools of ourselves,” he said with a smirk. Satoru nudged Suguru playfully with his feet. “Speak for yourself, Suguru. I'm always graceful, even in a fight.” Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Graceful? You mean when you tripped over your own feet last week?”

Satoru's eyes widened in mock outrage. “That was a strategic move. You wouldn't understand, Mr. 'I-almost-got-hit-by-a-first-year'.” Suguru laughed, shaking his head. “At least I didn't break a training dummy by hugging it too hard.” You couldn't help but giggle at their banter, feeling a bit lighter despite the heaviness in your heart. “I guess neither of you are as flawless as you think,” you said, a teasing glint in your eye.

Satoru put his hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt. “Et tu, Y/n? I thought you were on my side.” Suguru grinned. “Looks like she has more sense than to side with the 'great' Satoru Gojo.” Satoru rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember who saved your butt last mission.” Suguru's grin widened. “Only because you needed my help to figure out how to seal that curse.”

“Both of you honestly, shut up, I'm the one who saved you both when you were at the bridge of death,” Shoko, having no energy for the bullshit Satoru and Suguru pulled finally spoke up.

“Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, focusing instead on the easy camaraderie between the three of you. “I think you both just enjoy arguing,” you said, shaking your head.

Suguru shrugged. “It's part of our charm.”

Satoru laughed. “See? She gets it.”

The stars began to appear, twinkling in the twilight sky, and the laughter gradually subsided. Satoru sighed contentedly, his arm still beneath your head, his closeness a bittersweet comfort.

“You know,” Suguru said, breaking the comfortable silence, “we make a pretty good team. Even if some of us are more graceful than others.”

Satoru chuckled. “I couldn't agree more.”

As the evening light began to fade, you lay there in his arms, the world around you slipping away. The stars began to twinkle above, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the training grounds. The warmth of Satoru's arm around your shoulders was both comforting and bittersweet, a reminder of the complexities of your feelings for him.

Suguru and Shoko settled nearby, their laughter and easy conversation filling the air. The four of you formed a close-knit circle beneath the sprawling branches of the tree, the night enveloping you in its peaceful embrace.

You turned your gaze to the stars, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. In this moment, surrounded by your friends, the worries and heartache of the day seemed to fade into the background. The bond you shared with Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko was something precious, a constant in the ever-changing world of sorcery and danger.

Satoru's voice broke the comfortable silence, his tone thoughtful. “You ever wonder what we'll be doing in ten years? Will we still be together like this?” Suguru chuckled, his eyes reflecting the starlight. “Knowing you, Satoru, you'll probably still be causing trouble and dragging us along for the ride.” Shoko grinned. “And we'll still be bailing you out of whatever mess you get us into.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your heart at their words. “I hope we're still together,” you said softly. “I can't imagine going through all of this without you guys.” Satoru tightened his hold on you, his touch gentle. “We’ll always be together. No matter what.” His words, though simple, filled you with a sense of hope and reassurance. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe in the possibility of a future where the four of you remained inseparable.

As the night deepened, you all lay back, the grass cool beneath you, and watched the stars. The conversation dwindled, replaced by a serene silence that spoke volumes. In that moment, it was just the four of you beneath the tree, united by a bond that transcended words.

The world around you slipped away, leaving only the soft rustle of leaves and the steady rhythm of Satoru's breathing. The pain in your chest eased, replaced by a glimmer of true happiness. You didn't know what the future held, but as long as you had your friends by your side, you felt ready to face whatever came your way.

The night sky stretched endlessly above, a tapestry of dreams and possibilities. And beneath it, you found solace in the company of those who mattered most, the glimmer of true happiness lighting your path forward.

#gojo satoru #geto suguru #gojo fluff #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk gojo satoru #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk au #jujutsu kaisen satoru

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chisubi · 9 days ago

Text

a recollection of bellflowers — h. rindō

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

word count. 7.4k

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

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

part one ／ from summer, 1999

Your fiancé has a lover in Tokyo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You would rather be at home with her than here.

—

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes brighten. “Okay, thank you!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Get off.”

“H-huh?”

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

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

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

Another laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I bet you think she’s pretty.”

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

“Oh, is that so?”

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

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

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

There’s glass covering purple gems.

The boy asks, "Are you good?”

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

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

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

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

You shake your head.

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

You tell them your name and thank them once again.

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

You perk up, “You will?”

“Yeah, Roppongi belongs to the Haitani brothers.”

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

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

The heroes of Roppongi.

The sun is shining and his smile glows.

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

—

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

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

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

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

“Huh? Spirited away? Like the movie?”

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

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

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

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

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No—”

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

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

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

In the distance, a crow caws.

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(You don’t tell him that, though.)

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

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

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

—

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

You run, run, and run the days away.

Again and again, you fall.

(Rindō and Ran pick you back up.)

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

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

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

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

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

You really don’t know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Together, you finish the ramune with lighter hearts.

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“Did you love him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile as a reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

2002 年 4月 22日

Hi Rindō,

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

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

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

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

Your initial bitterness eventually fades into nothing but nostalgia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh my gosh . . .”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

You are sixteen when you meet Rindō and Ran again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s only you.”

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

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

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

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

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

You vaguely reply, “I guess so.”

“You know so.”

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

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

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

“I don’t cry.”

“I sure hope you won’t.”

You don’t know how to act.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You learned that from a shōjo anime?”

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

You . . . ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do, too. It’s my favourite.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I know.”

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

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

Nobody has made you feel this way before.

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

—Bang!

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

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

This feeling burns into you.

Everything feels like summer.

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

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fariest · 7 months ago

Text

till forever falls apart 𑁍ࠬܓ jake sim

pairing: widower!jake x fem!reader

genre: LOTS of angst like a lot, childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort/no comfort, some fluff here and there, coming of age, bittersweet ending.

word count: 8k words (or more..)

synopsis: jake came unto your life when you needed it the most. you didn’t expect it but he did and it all did happen on that one specific bench behind the beach you both grew up on, that one summer night. jake just had no idea you would slip through his fingers the way you did. and not that fast either.

warnings: character death, grief & loss, jake is a widower and has a daughter, unknown illness, mature language & cursing, low self worth, depression, mental break downs, fighting, marriage, mentions of seizures, hospitality, medication, just a lot of sad shit i’m so sorry in advanced.

a/n: here it is. mind you i wrote this with a heavy heart and a lot of thoughts in mind ( ; ω ; ) but either way i hope you all like this as much as i liked writing it. this is not proofread by the way, i apologize.

Jake’s feet were practically dragging. Everyone would probably have noticed that but in that moment, his biggest wish would probably be to erase everyone’s existence. He’s been living in his own shadow for felt like years. The only one he’s been vividly making eye contact with was his daughter and the florist he’s been going to for the past few months. Yet it felt for much longer. After all he was counting the days. With a heavy heart that was once filled to the brim with happiness and all the things he’s ever wanted.

The florist, a lady in her late fifties, always welcomed Jake with open arms and it was gestures like that, that made him feel smaller than ever. He wanted to return it, he really did but all he could do, was request the bouquet of flower he was in search for, with an even heavier heart. And if the words weren’t enough, he would point to that one specific section where they were kept. It usually didn’t take long since he memorized it.

Your favorite ones.

Peonies.

His mom called him before he left to buy those flowers. He was surprised with how different she sounded compared to him, or maybe it was because he was starting to forget how everyone sounded, especially those the closest to him. After all he was completely wrapped up in his own arms that felt far too empty and cold to the touch that he couldn’t help but let it happen. With his phone pressed to his ear, he let his mom do the talking while he was busy staring at nothing. More like the place where you used to sleep beside him and him basking in the comfort of your soft snores. You felt so close, so warm. You provided the warm that was missing and now he had to bask unto nothing but coldness. A lit up candle couldn’t even mend the wounds together. He had no idea how long he stayed on the phone with his mom for but at some point he could hear her sniffle and being in the state he was, he couldn’t ask her what was wrong. He was barely doing better himself.

And the call ended with him saying nothing and her saying it wasn’t his fault. The exact same thing she said the last time he saw her those many months ago.

He was debating whether to go check in on his daughter, knowing she would question the state he was. It wad the witty and her ability to be attentive and Jake knew she got that from you. He saw you right through her.

These were one of the days where he was far too deep unto the dark corners of his mindset where he didn’t bother with himself and how hard he was on himself. Jake almost breathed a sigh in relief when he saw his daughter still passed out in her bed, white sheets pulled up to her chin and tightly wrapped around her, the cloud lamp that you gifted to her on her fourth birthday, perfectly dimmed and casting a mellow glow over the roundness of her cheeks. Down on the floor, was Layla sleeping, with her resting on her front paws. The dog he got when he was ten, the one you raised with him.

This was one of the moments where Jake allowed himself to smile, a small smile without feeling bad for doing so.

Jake shook his head when he heard a voice briefly pull him out of his thoughts. His visions cleared and he saw the florist give him a sympathetic smile, probably sensing something, the grey hair framing her face in a way that matched her soft yet gentle features.

“Are you okay, young man?”

Jake was a bit taken aback but settled for a nod before eyeing the bouquet that the lady has managed to wrap up with obvious care.

It was like she saw right through him.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone.” She sadly smiled.

“These flowers,” She gestured to the Peonies, “They are for someone.. someone special, aren’t they?”

Gulping, Jake averted his eyes but still nodded.

“She was my everything,” He slowly forced out and he saw the lady perk up, “My childhood sweetheart, my best friend, my wife. And the mother to our daughter.”

“She was also basically everything I wasn’t yet she still made sure to remind me that she would love me no matter what. Her grip on my hand was tight until it wasn’t but even so, I knew she wouldn’t let go no matter what,” Jake swallowed back his urge to cry, but talking about her tugged at the strings holding him together. And he felt like the lady sensed that before she settled a old wrinkly hand on his shoulder.

The tears were already rolling down by then. Tears he’s been holding in all those months ever since.

“She sounded lovely,” Patting his shoulder, she continued, “I know she would’ve been proud of you especially for still being here, somewhere on the ground where she can look at you from afar,”

“I miss her, ma’am.” Looking up with bloodshot eyes, the lady offered another sympathetic smile, before handling him a tissue.

“I know, child.” She nodded, “I’m not saying you will overcome this grief soon or frankly ever. But you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. When you think about her, please do not always think about the negatives that comes along with it, think about the fact that out of everyone, you were the one she chose. Think about how she chose to love you even with all your flaws and how none of those things would ever change the way she saw you.”

Jake remembered the day. Clear and bright under the moonlight. He was eleven, fairly tall for his height with black strands that always fell over his eyes with how the wind always loved to mess with it. Everyone said that he had that soft look yet gentle demeanor look from his mom, he’s heard it so much to the point where he started believing them. After all his mom was a phenomenal woman.

Ever since dad walked out on both of them, mom has tried her hardest to raise him by herself despite her being young still. She was still in her youth and it was a sad sight to not see her do all the things people her age did. Travel the world, figure out themselves and planning their future without anyone standing in their way of doing so. Jake’s biggest fear was being in her way specifically, being a burden but the warmth from her embrace managed to tell him everything he needed to know. And so he tried his best to help her despite not knowing half of the things he did but he didn’t want his mom to cry anymore. He didn’t want her to downgrade herself and blame herself for things that were out of her control. He wanted her to go to bed with a gentle mindset and now all of the things that used to eat her up.

His mom went to sleep early that night and Jake promised himself that he would prep himself his own dinner and cut up some fruit for his mom since he knew she loved those, and then take out the trash.

Opening the gates, he dragged the plastic bag behind him before dumping it in the big green trash container. The summer nights were getting warmer and times like this reminded Jake off how much he loved it. Giving a toothy grin, he whipped his two hands on the front of his shorts before turning back to head inside, but not before casting a look over his shoulder.

There he saw someone. A few feet away from him.

At first, Jake had no idea what they were doing before walking closer. They were just. Sitting on the bench, in front of the beach. How odd.

“If you’re gonna stare, can you at least be less.. obvious with it?” The person asked, almost nonchalantly.

It was a girl.

Jake didn’t respond, fear of embarrassing himself further so he settled for walking closer to her before taking a seat beside her. So this was what she was doing, just looking at the waves. This late at night?

The young boy scratched behind his head with a small chuckle, “Sorry.. I didn’t think you would notice me,”

She casted him a side eye look before rolling her eyes.

“You’re not exactly quiet.”

And then she turned to stare back at the beach’s many waves. The stars glimmering in reflection with the water. It was beautiful, he couldn’t deny that.

He never bothered looking at where she was looking. But instead he decided to take her in. She was dressed in a white nightgown with a scruff at the end and at the ends of the sleeves, her hair wasn’t tied up or anything but fell behind her shoulders due to the wind, pointy nose, eyelashes casting a dim shadow on her the top of her cheeks which were a bit flushed due to the not too chilly breeze.

Jake might’ve been young but he wasn’t young enough to not know was beauty was when he saw it. And this might have been the prettiest girl he’s ever laid his eyes on. She might’ve been as beautiful as his mom.

“You really have a staring problem,” She told him, amusement evident in her voice.

“What!” Jake shook his head before scooting away from her, “What is that even supposed to mean!”

“Hmmm…” The still unknown girl tapped her chin lightly.

“It means you stare too much. My mom says that stuff will have you go blind.”

So this was how she wanted to play.

“Well, she’s wrong!”

He knew he hit a sensitive spot when the girl before him gaped lightly at what he said before huffing. He felt the panic dwell in and he was about to apologize before he heard her burst unto a fit of laughter.

“You should have seen the look on your face!”

Jake knew that day, that her laughter, that sound was his favorite melody of all time.

⋆

If anyone asked what you thought of Jake, the first thing that immediately came to your mind was — an oddball.

It didn’t add more to it when you both lived in the same neighborhood. Only two houses away from each other. To add more to it, your mom and his mom knew each other since they used to go to the same highschool together. They both suffered from the loss of their husbands, with yours dying before you were even born, which meant you had no idea who he was. So you lived off your mom’s words about him, the picture frames around the house and the photobooks your mom kept in a small box in the basement.

It was like your moms’ relationship drew you closer to Jake and now that you took a closer look at him, he wasn’t so bad and he wasn’t as irritating as the other boys in your class. The ones who said girls had cooties and girl disease. In fact, you took a hold of how Jake wanted or more so, looked forward to spending time with you any chance he got. He also came by a lot especially after school asking for you. You were pretty sure your mom held some kind of favoritism towards him because she never wasted a breath when it came to the boy with the brightest eyes you’ve ever seen. And before you knew it, you warmed up to him. It didn’t take long but it wasn’t fast either. You were a girl with a lot of things on your mind and frankly, you were just perfectly fine in your own world and peace. But Jake managed to add something to that. You had no idea what or how, but he did.

“Y/N look!”

You looked up from how absentmindedly you were coloring in a butterfly, when you saw Jake running towards you..

With a dog? On a leash?

You sat up with a slight gasp at the sight out of the creature and before you knew it, the dog hopped on you leaving gentle but happy licks all over your face.

“Layla, no!” Jake yelled sternly.

Holding up your arms, you tried blocking them away with a loud laugh before you settled for petting her. Not before pushing her away tho.

“Oh my,” The boy before you sighed in distress, a hand coming up to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “I’m so sorry about that Y/N. She’s still a puppy, so she’s full of energy,”

“Don’t apologize,” You shake your head before allowing Layla to take up the space on your lap for some more scritches.

“But I’m kinda mad, why didn’t you tell me you had a dog!”

“Umm…” Jake giggled sheepishly, “I actually just got her a few days ago. I was gonna tell you eventually..”

You gasped in mock offense before picking up a coloring pencil to throw at him.

“Hey!”

“You could’ve still have told me!”

“I was going to!”

Your bickering stopped by Layla jumping off your lap and running around the both of you in circles, indicating she wanted to play and have some energy spent. As if she hasn’t done that already.

“We we’re actually planning on going to the beach,”

Jake saw the way your eyes lit up and he couldn’t help the quick stutter his heart did. What was this feeling?

“Really? Can I join?”

“That was the plan, silly,”

Dusting off your lap from Layla’s jump earlier, you were about to stand up before two hands grabbed yours. Gently, they pulled you up to your feet and then gently let go. Almost as if knowing what was going on, Layla looked back and forth between the two young humans in front of her, before she barked to gather their attention.

“Oh! Uh, she’s getting impatient, we should go,” Jake quickly mumbled out before picking up his dog’s leash off the where he dropped it in the grass.

“Wait!” You looked back at your house before looking back at your friend.

And by then, Jake already knew what was stirring up your hesitation. He smiled at you reassuringly.

“I already told your mom. She said dinner will be done by the time you’re home.”

You could finally let out the breath you’ve been holding.

“Plus your mom loves me,” Jake quipped teasingly.

The young boy laughed at your eye roll and before you both knew it, you were both running, along with Layla down to the beach, with the dog before the both of you barking profusely with a hint of excitement. The whole afternoon was just you and Jake by each other’s side, with his dog running back and forth in the water. She even shook all of her water from her fur at both of you at some point to the point where you both were on the sand rolling around, both of your laughters mixing together that mingled in the sky above off you. It added more to the memories and you both knew you would be thinking about that day till the day you both grew old and wrinkly.

You knew that day, that you wouldn’t wanna spend days like these with anybody but with Jake.

⋆

Years went by, things blossomed and so did your bond with Jake.

It went from meeting him to that one random night on the beach, to you finding out you lived just barely away from each other, to you starting classes together properly after your mom’s job paid her enough for that to happened. You remember the sheer happiness when she told you that and how much that meant to younger you. You weren’t isolated by any means, in fact, your mom encouraged you to check the world for yourself. But you would rather have things done at your pace, so that’s what you did. Luckily she understood and you were beyond thankful.

You also noticed changes about Jake. At some point you and him were the same height, but ever since highschool hit, he’s grown like a head, almost two heads taller than you. He’s grown his fringes out, even at some point dyed it through the school years to the point where you had no idea how many times he did it. You remember one time dyeing it for him tho and that shit was a complete disaster and you wouldn’t have blamed him if he wanted to bald that way. You were still attached to the hip pretty much.

But something that has been coming back to biting you, was that you had no idea where you and Jake’s relationship were interlinked at. You were both seniors in highschool now and things were rocky. God forbid your younger self thought that growing older would result in you being able to talk about your feelings and emotions better, but no. You realized that wasn’t the case. There was definitely something holding you back. You just didn’t wanna come to terms with what it was. Running a hand through your head, you plopped down your bed, arms and legs spread out.

“Y/N?” You suddenly heard someone knock on your door before a head peeked in.

“Did you remember to take your medication?” She asked before stepping foot unto your room.

“Mom.. we already talked about this,”

“You can’t just keep pushing me away,” She insisted

You huffed before sitting, “Can’t we talk about this later please? I have to study for an upcoming exam. I promise I’ll take them later,”

“Y/N—“

“—Mom please..” You looked away from her, voice wavering, “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

You heard her sigh, before footsteps and the sound of your door being closed.

Reaching out for your phone on your bedside, your first instinct was to text Jake. But you knew the sound of his voice was exactly what you needed right now. More than anything. Hovering your thumb over his Caller ID, you slowly started debating if this really was a good idea. Now that you think about it, you and Jake haven’t really talked much due to busy schedules, and you’ve also noticed him confiding comfort in a group of friends you’ve never talked to before, while you had a group of friends of your own.

You missed him. And it was eating you up from the inside.

“Fuck it,” You whispered before dialing his number.

The ringing was not a fit match for how quick your heart was beating, it was practically beating out of your chest and you didn’t like it. Not one bit. But you couldn’t deny in how much need you were of his voice. It was almost embarrassing.

He still had no idea.

“Y/N?”

You smiled. After all this time, his voice was still your favorite tune.

“Hi Jake..”

“Y/N? Hey. Is everything okay?”

“Why do you always assume that something’s wrong?” You giggled and even tho you couldn’t see his face, you knew his face was definitely scrunched up in his one infamous frowns.

“Well, I’m sorry for caring I guess,”

“No you’re not,”

“You’re right, I’m not.”

The same old Jake.

“I miss you, y’know?” He finally spoke up, “I feel like I barely see you anymore.”

“I’m still here, Jake. Life has just.. been busy you know—“

“—Y/N, no,”

You heard some shuffling on the other side of the line, before a dejected sigh.

“It’s because I barely see you anymore. Even your friends are worried about you. You’re still at school, I know you are because I know you wouldn’t miss any of your classes no matter how busy or tired you are but you always disappear so quickly after..”

“Like is there something you aren’t telling me?”

You wanted to tell him.

You wanted to tell him so badly but you couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the look on his face when you did. He would be crushed and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself for that.

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine. Why wouldn’t they be?”

“Y/N—“

“No y’know what? I actually called you because I needed you and now you throw this on me—You and my mom are exactly the same. You both say the same shit and it’s pissing me off,” Not wasting a second thought, you hung up before throwing your phone on your bed, silent tears rolling down your face.

You went to sit on the bench by the beach the same day, after you heard your mom went to bed. Pulling up your knees closer to yourself, you were silently beating yourself up for not wearing something warmer. Though, you were eyeing your jacket, more or so Jake’s jacket that was hanging around your chair but decided not to take it at last minute.

Wrapping your arms around your knees, you took a look up at the night sky. The moon was seeking it’s place behind some dark clouds, the stars were doing their own things, the wind was getting colder. It was as if everything was going by slower? Or faster? You were not sure anymore but you knew it’s been an push and pull trick ever since that day.

Would it be too early to give up now?

“I knew I would find you here.”

“You can’t keep running away from us, from me, Y/N. I won’t let that happen,”

You turned your head, tears slowly starting to brim your eyes again. You didn’t want him to see you this way. Then there is a sudden pressure on your shoulders and by now you knew Jake has wrapped your upper body up in his jacket, with him now in his white sweatshirt and black plaid pajamas pants. He wasn’t expecting any response from you, in fact, he was just happy to be in your presence and not you running away nor pushing him away.

“I won’t force you to say anything,” He slowly sits down, the space beside you always available for him. There hasn’t been a day where it hasn’t been.

“But.. I hope you know you can talk—“

“I don’t have a lot of time, Jake,”

The first pen drop.

When you didn’t receive any response, you turned your head and hoped for the worst. Jake was still staring forward, towards the waves and how more far away they suddenly sounded.

“I only have two years left.”

That made him turn his head to look at you. The look in his eyes made your heart drop. In all these many years you’ve known Jake, you have never seen him look like this, so empty, so hollow of thoughts, so broken and if you weren’t such a mess yourself, you would have tried to pick up pieces back together. But what was it worth if you couldn’t even pick up your own? Staying alive at this point felt like a chore, a walk even down to the beach sometimes took all the air out of your lungs if you didn’t take your medications.

You managed to catch the tear you saw roll down his cheek with the soft pad of your thump. He gripped your wrist in his hand when he felt it about to retreat and held it up to his cheek, fearing you would disappear faster if he didn’t. Your warmth was all he needed now. Jake hated asking for too much but he wanted to be selfish for once, right now.

“I’m sorry,” You shook your head, feeling the tears roll again, “I should’ve told you. But this was what I was fearing for. Seeing your reaction, seeing the look on your face especially after—“

Feeling a warm gentle hand cupping your cheek, you felt your words get caught in your throat when you took in the way he looked at you now. There was still sadness lingering but you really couldn’t put a finger on what the rest was. But that didn’t really occur your mind. You just needed him to say something.

“Jake, please say something..” You begged, voice cracking, “Yell at me, scream at me, anything!”

You failed to see the way he moved closer.

“Especially for the way I’ve been treating you. That’s the least I deserve,” Pushing at his chest, you couldn’t help but let more tears roll, the place on your lap a sea of your own sorrows by that point

“Why are you looking at me like that, Jake please—“

Your hands faltered their pushing on his chest when you felt something soft yet wet on your lips. Closing your eyes which were still filled with tears, you pushed yourself closer and basked in the gentle kiss that belonged to him.

It was always him.

You knew it by now, you knew it ever since your first encounter on that one night at the beach, at the exact same place where you were at now.

⋆

A lot has changed, with how low your energy has gotten, you couldn’t bring yourself to attend to classes psychically anymore. And by what your personal doctor has said, any stress can trigger the most especially in the state you’re in right now and nobody, especially your mother wouldn’t ever wanna take that risk. So you settled for going to school but at home instead, in the walls of your room. Your routine has gotten progressively more straightforward than what it usually was. You were drained and the eye bags under your would tell anyone a story that you, yourself wouldn’t be able to, lips chapped and peeling. You could barely recognize the sight of yourself anymore.

Jake was walking around with a heavy heart. You were finally his but at what cost? These past weeks has just been him lingering by your side more and more each day to the point he might practically live at your place now. Frankly, he wasn’t doing better himself. He was beating himself up for making everything seem like your fault when nothing was ever your fault to begin it. The world was just too cruel to make space for someone as precious and as delicate as you, the world never deserved you. Jake can’t count the amount of times he’s managed to utter those words to you, while trailing his browns over your features, with your hands interlocked under the sea of stars and crescent moon. And he memorized your reaction to his words each time. You were really the most endearing piece of art to him.

He knew you were trying. You even told him you were so he wouldn’t worry too much, you would fe your ribs construct whenever you saw the way he was trying so hard to keep himself from breaking down when he felt the warmth from your hands, from your body slowly leave your body day by then. All that warmth that you usually provided, was all gone. All the warmth he would confide in whether it was after a stressful day after of classes, work or the insignificant days where he got unto an argument with his mother. He was seeking for your warmth everywhere he went.

Yet Jake held unto the last amount of warmth you had left. That was all he could do.

“Jake,” He heard his mother’s voice speak up before he felt her shake his shoulders, obviously trying to wake him from his afternoon nap.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Groaning he sat up and was met with his mom’s frantic pacing.

He gave her a confused look.

“Mom—?”

“It’s Y/N,” She breathed out, “Her mom just called from the at the hospital..”

“Apparently she had a seizure,”

That was then Jake felt his whole world collapse.

This couldn’t be..

“B-But how.. I.. She was okay when I saw her last day..” He felt his breath getting stuck along with his world. This couldn’t be. His mom didn’t say anything but instead pulled him unto his arms and that was where Jake allowed himself to break down fully. Without any care in the world. You were getting further and further away each day and he had no idea how to cope with it. He was angry, frustrated, why was he letting this happen? Why couldn’t he have done more? For you?

You deserved everything, but this.

⋆

“I will miss seeing the stars,”

Even with a light hoarse lilt to your voice, it still sounded soft and gentle in Jake’s ears. Like it always has. You were wearing a soft smile when looking at the stars from the hospital window, that never seemed to falter when you turned to look at him.

“I know you will, my love.”

Your smile faltered when you noticed that he was in deep in thoughts. He always we’re but this time it wasn’t out of sheer sadness and distress but more like.. he was bashful?

“Is something bothering you, my Jake?”

He didn’t respond but from the corner of your eyes, you saw him pull out a small black velvet box. You gasped.

“I know we’re still young and all but..” He says carefully, “But you’re probably the only person I’ve ever felt this sure with. This secure with and I honestly couldn’t have asked for someone better,”

Slowly opening the box, there was it. A ring. A silver ring littered with small diamonds on the sides, with the biggest one being shaped in a crystallized star. You looked up and you realized Jake hasn’t looked away from you once, trying his best to read your reaction and body language, making sure he hasn’t been overstepping anything.

“I know you hate asking for much, just like I do but..”

“Jake I..” You shake your head, eyes wide, “It’s beautiful..”

Taking out the ring from the box, he gently took your hand before slipping the ring on before bringing it up to seal it with a kiss to your knuckles.

“You don’t have to say anything.. I know that—“

“My Jake, of course I wanna marry you..”

⋆

Jake woke up startled to the someone knocking on his front door. Automatically he reached beside him but was met with nothing but the cold sheets.

Heaving another deep sigh from his chest, he slipped on slippers before walking downstairs, careful not to wake up his daughter. He was met with Layla who was pressing her snout against the door, curious herself, tail slightly wagging before letting out a small bark at the sight of her owner

“Hey girl,” He cooed with a scratch to the canine’s head, “Be quiet now, wouldn’t wanna wake anyone up would we?”

Honestly, Jake had no idea what he was expecting when opening the door but..

“Mrs. Y/N?”

“Hi son..” She muttered, “I hope you’re doing okay. Look, I-I don’t have much time but this morning I came across this while cleaning up in Y/N’s room and found this,”

The woman gave a careful smile and that was then he noticed a small envelope in her hand.

“I was about to open it but I think it was meant for you,”

Carefully taking the letter, he examined it before turning it around where he noticed something written in messy yet distinguished writing.

‘For him <3’

⋆

‘Dear you,

I don’t know what this letter will be when you receive it but I hope it lands safely in your hands.

Life hasn’t been easy and to be honest, I never expected it to be. You and I both know that. But what I do know is that you’ve made my life easier. I don’t know if that has do with the solace from your words or the stars from your eyes. But in me somewhere, I knew you changed my life for the better. I can’t think of a person who’s made me laugh and smile as much as you have, I think that itself alone is impossible if you ask me.

I hope you aren’t too hard on yourself. And if you are, a reminder that I never wanted you to be and neither does your mother and our daughter. I may not be here when you read this so please think about them when life gets hard and when you can feel yourself shift the blame on yourself for all the things that was never your fault to begin with. I didn’t ask for how my life turned out, neither did you. None of us did. Life just has some dwelling sometimes and at some point, they like to take it out on one of us.

It’s not fair. I know.

But I hope you can look up at the stars and see me.

I will always be here with you.

Your, Y/N L/N.’

taglist: @karinasbaby @nishions @hittoki @superbbananananana @mimizen127 @jjunie-0 @ghostiiess

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anxiousgayseeksvalidation · 1 month ago

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Angsty Headcannons

Mrs. Arellano used to sing “Rockin’ Robin” to her son when he was a little boy to make him laugh. It was a whole year after his death before she could hum the song to herself again without breaking down.

Vance Hopper was A Problem, but the thought of no one really mourning the kid makes the arcade employees sad, so they retire his favorite pinball machine and hang a small, simple plaque next to it that says “In Memory of Pinball Vance Hopper.”

The Yamadas hold out hope that Bruce is alive right up until the police knock on their door. Mr. Yamada solemnly and despondently goes back and takes down all the fliers he put up so his family doesn’t have to keep seeing them every time they go out.

Finney waits until what would’ve been Robin’s 14th birthday to see Texas Chainsaw Massacre, as a way to celebrate and honor the boy. It’s a punch to the gut every time Fin glances next to him at the empty space where his friend should be, but Fin gets through it. He likes to think Robin is proud of him somewhere out there.

Gwen has anxiety attacks every time Finney leaves the house. She tells no one, but they do eventually get better.

Finn receives one more phone call that he never tells anyone about, not even his sister. It’s a female voice pushing through the static to say “I’m so proud of you.” It’s the clearest one, and Finn is 100% sure it was his mother.

Griffin’s family moves away as soon as they bury their son. He was their only child and it’s just too painful to stay in a town where there’s nothing left for them and too many reminders. Finney lays a coin on his grave every holiday, just to show that Griffin hasn’t been completely forgotten.

A new paperboy eventually has to take over Billy’s route. Old Mrs. Goldstein over on Maple Street misses the way Billy would deliver her paper directly to her because he knew she uses a walker to get around. They had struck up a friendship and she had even invited Billy in for tea once.

As he gets older, Finney is able to admit and recognize in retrospect that he probably had a crush on Robin. It’s a very bittersweet feeling, young puppy-love lost and friendships snuffed out in their prime. It’s the one thing Gwen doesn’t tease him about.

Finney invites the Yamadas to a baseball game when they’re feeling up to it so they can watch him hit a ceremonial home-run over the fence during a moment of silence for Bruce. Finney retrieves the ball and gives it to Amy.

Gwen has a dream that Vance stops the Grabber from getting to her. She likes to think that Vance is protecting her from nightmares as a thank-you for her help.

People still talk about the day that Robin Arellano handed Moose his ass. There’s some worry that Moose will start bullying again now that Robin’s gone, but Moose doesn’t. The murders seemed to have taken the fight out of everyone.

Finney gives his first son the middle name “Robin.” Donna understands why and allows it. Her sweet husband will never forget the skinny little Hispanic kid who saved his life in more ways than one, and Donna would never ask him to.

#the black phone #robin arellano #finney blake #vance hopper #bruce yamada #the black phone headcannons #finbin #robin x finney #finney x robin

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37sommz · 2 months ago

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000.⠀⠀NOW PLAYING: long live [1.5k, angst]. ✼. view: masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request. ✼. synopsis: michaela says goodbye. ✼. notes: totally heartbroken for daniel. for all he's done for this sport, he truly deserved so much more than what he got. enchanté, daniel. ✼. warnings: daniel's last race, crying. not proofread, but when do i ever?

✼.⠀SEPTEMBER 22, 2024 — marina bay, singapore

Michaela gripped the steering wheel of her Aston Martin as she rounded the streets of Marina Bay. The roar of the engine filled her ears as she sped through the tight turns of the track, the city lights of Singapore blurring into a dizzying spray of color beyond the tire barriers. The air held anticipation and the smell of an uneasy question. She had heard the whispers all weekend, the murmurs that danced just out of earshot. Daniel Ricciardo, the man who had practically become part of her family, might not be in the paddock much longer. Her heart raced, not just from the exhilaration of the race, but from the thought of losing a piece of her world.

The checkered flag dropped, and she pulled into the pit lane. The chaos of the grandstands and the flashing lights of cameras were a harsh, ironic contrast to the turmoil storming within her. She stepped out of the car, forcing a smile for the cameras as she went through the motions of the post-race interviews. She had done well, finishing 5th to Fernando's 4th, but the success felt hollow. Her thoughts remained with Daniel, who had just completed his final lap for the Bulls. She had avoided him all weekend, the weight of his potential departure too much to bear. But now, as the race concluded and the tension began to ease, she knew she had to see him.

Michaela walked to Daniel's side of the RB garage, her heart thumping like the British engine she had just left behind in her own garage. She pushed open the door and found him surrounded by his team, sharing a bittersweet moment. His eyes met hers and she saw the unshed tears glittering underneath the fluorescent lights. He tried to flash his signature grin, but it faltered, and she knew the truth had sunk in for both of them. The laughter lines around his eyes didn't hide the pain. He was saying his goodbyes, and she had missed most of it.

As the last of the well-wishers left, Daniel turned to his car, running a hand over its gleaming carbon fiber bodywork. She approached him tentatively, her eyes brimming with tears she hadn't realized she'd been holding back. He looked at her, his own eyes red and glassy.

"Hey, kid," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

She took a step closer, feeling the warmth of the engine's last breath radiating off the car.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?" He tried to laugh, but it came out as a choked sob.

Michaela's own tears spilled over, tracing paths down her cheeks. "Daniel, I'm so sorry," she whispered, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder.

He leaned into her touch, his eyes never leaving the car that had been his life for so many seasons. "It's alright, Mick. It's just racing, right?" Even in his most vulnerable moment, Daniel couldn't fight the instinct to comfort the girl he had watched grow into a woman.

Michaela felt the warmth of his voice wrap around her like a familiar blanket, but the words didn't bring the relief she sought.

"No, it's not just racing," she said, her voice trembling. "You've been there for me, through all the tough times, the crashes, the doubt, the fights to be taken seriously in this sport." She swallowed hard, her eyes searching his for understanding. "You've been my rock, my inspiration. You can't just leave. Not like this."

Daniel turned to face her, his smile sad but earnest. "Mick, you know this isn't the end. I'll still be around, driving Courie crazy.”

The reference to Michaela’s sister, Daniel’s girlfriend—his Courie—stuck watching the race from her lab in Sydney only brought a knot to Michaela’s stomach. Michaela had spoken briefly to her sister before the race, Courtney had been inconsolable over the phone, pushed beyond guilt that she couldn’t be by her boyfriend’s side to help shoulder the emotions during the last race of his Formula 1 career.

“And you," he continued, pointing at her, "You're gonna kill it out there without me."

Michaela couldn't hold back anymore. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, feeling the coarse fabric of his fireproofs and the solidity of his frame. He hugged her back, his own arms enveloping her in a comforting warmth she hadn't realized she needed. They stood there for a moment, two friends sharing the weight of a career's crossroads, their hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of the cooling engines around them.

"Thank you," she murmured into his shoulder. "For everything."

"You can thank me when you win a championship," Daniel said, his voice breaking despite himself.

Michaela pulled back, wiping at her eyes. "It should've been you first," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You should've been a champion." Her tears continue to fall, her cheeks stained by the path they leave on her skin.

"Maybe, but don't worry about me," Daniel said, his eyes glistening. "You still have your whole career ahead of you."

Michaela nodded, her vision blurred by the tears. "I know, but it won't be the same without you."

The silence grew heavy in the garage, punctuated only by the occasional clang of tools being packed away. The reality of Daniel's departure was setting in, a stark reminder of the fleeting nature of their sport.

"You know, I never thought I'd be leaving like this," Daniel said, his gaze still on the car. "But I guess that's how it goes when you get too attached to the ride."

Michaela nodded, her throat tight. "It's not fair," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "You're one of the best out there."

"Life's not about fair," Daniel replied, his hand coming up to ruffle her hair, a gesture that brought a ghost of a smile to her face. "But it's about making the most of what you've got. And I guess I've gotta get a new thing now."

Michaela stepped back, taking in the sight of her friend, his shoulders slumped and his usual vibrant spirit dulled by the shadow of his uncertain farewell. She felt a pang of anger at the unfairness of it all. Daniel had given so much to Formula 1, and yet, it seemed to be discarding him as if a worn-out tire. But she knew better than to let her the weight of her emotions sweep her up, not here, not now. She took a deep breath, straightening her spine.

"You're right," she said, her voice steady despite the tremble in her chest. "We've got to make the most of it. And you," she poked his arm gently, "Have got more to give, more to show the world. Whatever's next, you'll shine just like you always do."

Daniel offered a weak smile, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thanks, Mick." He paused, taking in the sight of the emptying garage, his team packing up the last of his gear.

"I just thought I'd be here for a little longer, you know? When I left Red Bull for Renault I thought that my time was next, that I was gonna be the one on the top step for once. Then McLaren called and I fuckin'—" He choked back further tears. "I felt like that was it. But when it never came I just..."

He trailed off, the heartbroken look in his eyes drawing Michaela deeper into her melancholy. Michaela nodded solemnly, understanding the ache in his words. "You're so much more than that, Daniel. You brought your joy to so many people. I know for sure that you've got so much left to give. And you will, in whatever you do next." She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself.

"You've taught me so much," she continued, her voice cracking. "How to keep pushing when everything is useless and I feel like giving up. How to laugh when the world is against your joy. How to be a better driver to my team and a better person to the people I love. I wouldn't still be here if it weren't for you. So, thank you Daniel. So, so much."

"You're going to be okay, you hear me?" He said, his voice gruff with emotion. "You're going to be more than okay."

Michaela nodded, trying to hold onto his words like a lifeline in the storm of her feelings. Daniel took a step back and wiped his own eyes with the back of his hand. "But for now," he said, his voice firming up, "Let's go grab a drink. You know, to celebrate the end of an era and all that fuzzy shit."

They laughed through their tears, a bit of the old familiar banter slipping back in. They walked out of the garage together, leaving the echoes of their past successes and heartaches behind. The paddock was alive with the sounds of teams breaking down and preparing for the next race.

Yet, for them, the world had slowed down to an unwilling crawl.

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