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sixosix · 11 months ago

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STAY, TOO | AETHER

desc you were afraid that aether would break your heart, but that all flew out the window the moment he got sick and demanded only you take care of him

notes wc 2.8k, FLUFF FLUFF bit of angst with reader’s mindset but happy ending i swear on my asia server genshin acc + this draft had been in my docs since 10/15/2023. its a miracle that i decided to pick up on it again and actually finish it !!!!!!! enjoy fellow aether kissers

Evenings were always eerily silent; because of that, your thoughts were loud. Not in the way that screamed—no, it was much worse. It was his voice that whispered, that made you shiver and reach out for something that never existed.

You didn’t know if you were dreaming or if you were awake and letting your mind wander away to a familiar face. Your mind always ended up back to him, no matter how much you tried to stray away. No matter who you talked to, he haunted you. Who you kissed, his face flashed in your mind. You wanted to curse his name out��it was his fault you were like this. It was his fault for deciding to come into this world and rid yourself of your defenses, left helpless to his whims.

“Um, Y/N?” A hand moved to your shoulder.

You jumped out of your seat, heart racing as his grinning face dissipated from your mind. You turned and breathed a sigh of relief. “What are you doing here, Sucrose?”

“It’s past midnight,” Sucrose murmured, her expression nervous, but apparently, she was too worried to leave you be. “I saw light from your window and thought you fell asleep…”

You didn’t even know if you were—everything before felt like a distant blur. Your eyes darted back to your desk, and then your face paled at the sight of a grinning face staring back at you. How long had you been mindlessly doodling Aether’s face? You quickly snatched them away from Sucrose’s view.

“I—I’m fine. Sorry, I did fall asleep.”

Sucrose’s bottom lip jutted out. “This has been happening for too long now. You’re not fine.”

What were you supposed to say to that? You were so hopelessly infatuated with someone who was ruining your life and possibly your job with Mr. Albedo. That would be a fast way to get yourself fired.

Sucrose sat on the chair beside you, her expression determined. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Can you at least tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing that serious, Sucrose,” you stammered. Hopefully, the candles were dim enough to hide how flustered you were. It was more embarrassing than serious, really.

“Is it the Traveler?” She knew how to strike hard for someone with such an innocent face.

When had it not been the Traveler, honestly?

“Ugh…” That was a yes for her, apparently.

Sucrose smiled in relief. Her eyes darted around your face, studying you. “What’s wrong? Was he affecting you that much?”

“Yes. Disturbingly so. Like, seriously, it’s disturbing me.”

Sucrose’s eyes sparkled with wonder. “How?”

“It feels like swallowing a crystalfly whole and feeling it flutter around my stomach whenever I even think of him.”

Sucrose’s face turned serious. “What have you been doing to the crystalfies we’ve been collecting?”

“Never mind,” you muttered. “I’m fine, Sucrose. I promise, okay?”

You weren’t. Sucrose must’ve thought the same, too, because Lisa barged into your office the next day.

“What else are you expecting? For him to notice your wallowing and say something about it?”

Lisa’s sweet, melodious voice sounded torturous now when she was poking at all the things you were desperately trying to keep hidden. You sink against your seat, feeling a lot like a scolded kid, caught red-handed skipping chores—skipping responsibilities, hoping to stay oblivious for a bit longer.

“He already said something,” you grumbled, finding it difficult to meet the mage’s sharp eyes.

For someone who sounded as gentle as a mother to her only child, Lisa’s disappointment made you feel a lot more shameful than if she were to chide you in the middle of Mondstadt’s streets.

“A week after we met. He told me he likes me,” you continued.

Lisa’s jaw dropped, a funny expression you’ve never seen on her before. “A week after you met? Let me get this right—”

You groaned, “Lisa, trust me, I know—”

“—Our dear Traveler confessed to you ages ago. When was it when Aether helped us with Stormterror? He’s in Fontaine now!” Lisa looked a little frazzled, her eyes wild. You were expecting her to chide you some more until you saw how her entire expression was sparkling. This felt foreboding, somehow. “He keeps visiting to see you! After all these years of you foolishly rejecting him—”

“I didn’t reject him!”

Lisa hummed thoughtfully. “Oh, but isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”

You were not rejecting Aether. You didn’t outright tell him you’re not interested because you are. He had been haunting your thoughts since you first laid eyes on him, returning from battle, cold breath billowing from his mouth, a pixie by his side, his hair aglow gold, Festering Desire in hand—and, oh, you desired him. It reached a point where Albedo himself had to ask if you wanted a check-up from how much you were burning with want.

Aether had grinned at you so brightly, and you damn near melted on the spot, even in the unrelentingly bitter weather of Dragonspine.

You found yourself liking him for more than his quite literally alien nature, his out-of-this-world body, and his abilities that had your hands itching to reach for a pen and paper to write down everything about him and figure out what the hell he was. Instead, you started falling for him as just Aether. His boyish smile, his witty jabs, his glimpses of personality.

And then he confessed to you—you, no one but one of Albedo’s assistants—and said he likes you, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything at the time. You thought of him leaving one day, and then you just couldn’t say the yes that was chanting in your brain.

To no one’s surprise, he did leave. Not to that extent yet, but away from Mondsadt. Even in Liyue, Inazuma, Sumeru, and Fontaine, he invaded your thoughts as if cursing you for not saying what you were thinking. You could only wish he thought of you just as much as you did to him. Maybe he’d end up hating you, and not loving him would be easier.

“Are you kidding?” If it were so easy, you would’ve already jumped in his arms and kissed him breathlessly. “He’s—he’s not like us. He doesn’t belong here. He’d leave, eventually. Just like he always does with the other worlds.”

“Is that what’s stopping you?”

“That’s reason enough to be stopping me,” you said sharply. “He’s got millions of worlds to flirt with as he pleases, and this is my only one. Who knows if Aether is the type to even visit?”

Lisa crossed her arms. “Maybe you should ask. Communication is key.”

“Even if that was the case, I can’t handle it. I already miss him enough while he’s still in Teyvat—I don’t know how I could live with myself if I let him into my heart, and he’s a world away.”

“You’ve already let him in your heart,” Lisa said softly. “Just talk to him, alright? I’m not the only one worried about you when you drive yourself to a corner like this—especially over a boy!”

“I’m perfectly alright,” you said, ignoring Lisa’s amused smile. “I’m not losing my mind. Especially over a boy.”

You definitely were losing your mind. That boy was Aether; how could you not?

“I think it’s adorable,” Lisa cooed, cupping her cheeks and sighing dreamily. “He’s still waiting patiently. Who knew the Traveler would be so willing to wait for love?”

You wished that it wasn’t like that.

“Y/N! Are you here?”

Crap. Did you fall asleep in your office again? Might as well stop paying rent if this was going to be a recurring thing.

Once again, by routine at this point, you threw your notes that had Aether’s face inked by the edges. Memory be damned, You couldn’t let anyone see how detailed your drawings of Aether are.

“Y/N?” The voice rang out again, and it sounded more familiar now.

You went to open the door and frowned. “Lisa? It’s so early—did something happen?”

Lisa smiled in greeting, so beautifully devious with what she was about to say: “Our Honorary Knight is back in town!”

“Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?” Were people just seeing you as one of Aether’s admirers?

“Of course not,” Lisa chuckled, patting your head. How did she look so good this early in the morning? “He’s sick and needs someone to look after him.”

You wanted to close the door. You wanted to crawl back to your desk and go to sleep, but she had that look in her eye—one that told you that you had something to do with where she was going. And you did not like where this was going.

“So?” Dammit. You really wanted to see Aether again.

“Why, who else better to take care than his dearest alchemist?”

“Albedo is everyone’s alchemist. Sucrose is everyone’s dearest alchemist.”

Lisa shushed you. Why was she so invested in this? “No, no, his. Not everyone’s.”

You felt your face burn at the thought of being his dearest alchemist. Or anything his. “Absolutely not! Wasn’t he in Fontaine just yesterday?”

“Why don’t you go ask him that yourself?”

You scowled. You weren’t agreeable in the mornings. “How did you even know about this?”

Lisa smirked, poking your nose. “Because he asked for you, specifically.”

You laughed dryly—good one.

“I won’t let you do anything you wouldn’t want,” Lisa said seriously, “but would you change your mind if I told you that it’s Aether that wants you?”

And so you ended up in Aether’s teapot, which was hanging around Jean’s office for safety. Jean only smiled knowingly when you knocked on the door and zipped straight to the teapot. You were only doing this on the off-chance that Lisa was telling the truth and that Aether demanded he didn’t want anyone else but you checking up on him.

His teapot was familiar. You had been here a few times, but you didn’t have your own room. That was too embarrassing to ask, no matter how much Aether suggested it.

“Y/N!” Aether lit up the moment you entered the room.

“Aether,” you greeted, and as much as you wanted to hide it, a smile bloomed on your lips. It was hard not to smile when Aether was looking at you like that.

He looked like a mess, with strands of hair spread all over his pillows. His blanket was only up to his hips, showing that he was out of his usual look, and wore a simple white shirt. You were grateful for that shirt; you didn’t want to end up helping Aether strip because he definitely would have suggested that.

“I’m sick,” Aether whined. “Tend to me.”

You would’ve doubted his fever, but it was worryingly hot when you reached out to check his forehead’s temperature.

Immediately, your suspicions fly out the window. Aether was burning, and you were the only one in the same room (teapot?) who should take care of him. The Honorary Knight was reduced to a fever.

You cupped his cheek and watched as Aether pressed his face closer. “Does your head hurt?”

“Yes.”

You tore your hand off. “I’ll make something to ease the pain.”

“You can ease it right now. By kissing it away.”

“Aether,” you sighed. Unbelievable. How did he still have enough energy for this while positively rotting on his bed? “Take this seriously. I haven’t seen you this sick— Actually, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you sick. How did this even happen?”

“Stayed too long underwater,” he said.

Aether? Getting sick from swimming? You made a face, which Aether laughed softly at.

“No, seriously. It was an emergency commission. Even when I had to resurface, it was pouring. Someone was making the Hydro Dragon cry hard yesterday.” Aether’s face scrunched as he looked up at you with round eyes. “I was so cold.”

Although it sounded absurd that Aether would get a fever from that, you suppose that having to stay drenched for a long time would affect even someone like him. You couldn’t even imagine having to shiver your way back to Mondstadt after being thoroughly drenched the whole day.

You pulled the blanket further up Aether’s chest. Even if you suspected he was lying, he was trembling underneath the covers.

“Alright.” You’ll believe him because right now, it is a fact that Aether is undoubtedly sick.

You were well aware that he was and sounded like he was dying, but he looked cute, flushed, and staring at you expectantly. It felt nice to be needed by someone like him—made him feel less like a faraway dream.

You cleared your throat and looked away; you knew you looked flustered. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Why? Will you cook for me?” he asked.

You knew how to cook, but for someone who had traveled regions and tasted all kinds of foods, you would probably disappoint. Still, it wasn’t time for a competition with other chefs in Liyue or Fontaine. Aether needed food to fill his stomach.

“Any suggestions?” You hoped for nothing unfamiliar and crazy. You loved Aether, but having to fetch ingredients from oceans away was too much.

“Make it with love,” Aether said cheekily because he was a bastard who didn’t have any mercy on your heart.

And so you left the room and ignored Aether, laughing and coughing as he called after you. You had to leave either way—your chest was almost as warm as Aether’s forehead.

You decided to make a Radish Veggie Soup. You hoped Aether wasn’t too picky about his vegetables. The water was comfortably cold, enough to make you search around his cupboards for towels to soak it into. As you waited for the water to boil, you decided to check up on Aether again.

He was still lying there, but with his eyes closed now. You felt terrible seeing someone you witnessed defeat dragons battling a fever. You drew closer and placed the towel on his head. He didn’t flinch at the stark change of temperature, but he did react instantly, his warm hand clasping your wrist.

“Stay,” Aether rasped.

You bit your lip, your heart sinking. Was he dreaming about his sister? You always worried when he was feeling down because of their separation.

But then his eyes opened, and he stared right at you. “Y/N,” he said, “please stay.”

“I can’t.”

“Just this once.” Aether’s voice sounded so quiet, so unsure of himself.

You really couldn’t. You had a Radish Veggie Soup to attend to.

“I’m staying,” Aether said, and you had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the bed. “I’m staying here for you.”

You frowned. “Don’t lie to make me feel better right now. That would hurt more when you have to leave.”

Aether’s face softened impossibly. “I’m not lying. I’m telling you the truth—I’m not leaving Teyvat. Even if I find my sister, I’m staying.”

Seriously? Just like that? “What made you change your mind?”

You couldn’t tell if Aether was blushing or if it was his fever. “How could I leave Teyvat when I see how cute you look taking care of me?”

You threw a pillow to his face.

He swerved away and laughed brightly. “I’m joking! I’m joking—drop that pillow, please. I’m kidding. Well, sort of.”

His face was once again attempted to get assaulted by another pillow. Aether grinned as he blocked it off with an arm.

“For someone so sick, you seem awfully lively,” you said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“You breathe life into me; what can I say?”

You groaned. You couldn’t deal with this today—you needed at least three business days to process this and find another reason to reject him. Yet, as you moved to get some fresh air (anything to get Aether’s stupid face out of your view), a hand abruptly reached for your wrist.

Aether’s face was close to yours in a blink of an eye. His breath was hot on your face. “I’m serious,” he said, “so if— if you feel the same way, the least you can do is stay, too.”

“I— You—” You gaped at him. That sounded like it could be a proposal. Who would’ve thought—the Outlander, the Traveler, begging for you to stay?

Aether’s gaze flicked to your lips.

“Don’t kiss me,” you said in warning. “Are you an idiot? You’re sick!”

“That’s fine. I get to take care of you when you do,” Aether said.

Your face paled. “No! I have a job, Aether—”

Aether frowned. “And I have a world to save, but that can wait. We’re busy.”

You pushed his face away, his laugh smothered by your palm. “No, we are not. I’m busy making food for your sorry ass, away from you.”

Aether’s face crumpled. “Do you actually not want to kiss?”

Not when he’s sick and snotty, yeah.

Instead, you leaned in to kiss his forehead to make up for it. It was brief and faint, but Aether looked satisfied, smiling softly when you pulled away. It would do for now.

“I’m staying,” you said. “So long as you do, too. I’ll stay with you.”

THE SOUP TURNED OUT OKAY STILL. this is just how my mom takes care of me when im sick LOL but the idea of doing it to a sick aether was too good i had to write a fic about it. also i love angst about aether being the traveler aaghgh

thank u sm for reading. as always, lmk what u think and i hope u liked it!! <3

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #aether x reader #aether x you #aether x y/n #genshin x y/n

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nakahras · 5 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི slow down • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • every week you find yourself in one of chuuya’s club, one reminiscent of a speakeasy. as his subordinate, you know of each and every one of his establishments. what you never expected was for him to show up to one of your performances. lucky for you he shows up to reward you handsomely for a successful show.

warnings • (buckle up this is gonna be a long one) fem!reader, swearing, alcohol, dubcon, intoxication (both parties), use of the pet names “doll” and “baby”, ņsfw, hair pulling, chuuya is a tease, power imbalance, grinding, very slight exhibitionism, fingering, finger sucking, oral (f -> m), unprotected sex, dacryphilia, wall sex, creampie, cockwarming, i cannot be blamed for what i wrote that wasn’t me

wc • 9.4k

a/n • this has been sitting in my drafts for so long waiting for me to find the will to finish the smut (⌒_⌒;)

the atmosphere is warm and inviting. a mixture of expensive perfumes, liquors and smoke builds an aroma that, although slightly suffocating, is also surprisingly delightful. it’s busy, just like every friday night, thanks to the main act. at least, that’s what chuuya’s been told.

earlier in the week, his subordinates noticed that numbers for this club in particular, have gone up significantly. it’s now chuuya’s most popular establishment. friday nights, especially, are giving him high revenue. he isn’t complaining by any means, he just wants to know why so maybe he can bring that aspect of this business into his others — or at the very least thank whoever it is that’s responsible for these numbers.

he’s come to realize that his sales have spiked strictly within the 9-10pm time frame—the peak of the friday night show. he allows performers, mainly singers, to take the stage at night. it’s somewhat of an experiment on chuuya’s end. speakeasies are far and few between; he wants to know if that’s due to the lack of interest or just the lack of organization. he’s happy to see that there’s still interest.

chuuya wants to see it for himself. that’s what led him here, at his own club in the vip section. he’s sat forward, leaning on the table, his hands folded in front of his face as he anticipates the curtains parting to reveal the subordinate rumored to have captivated this entire club and its patrons. the ginger wasn’t given much to go by, but he knows it’s someone that works under him, it’s supposedly how they managed to get the most coveted slot.

it’s clear, however, that their talent is what allowed them to keep the slot.

you’re nervous. it’s the first time since your very first performance on this stage that your palms are sweating underneath the leather short gloves you wear. you were told earlier this evening that you had a special guest tonight. when the stage manager told you “no pressure” your fingers twitched, itching to reach for the knife you kept holstered and hold it up to his throat. those two words always had the opposite effect and something told you the bastard knew that.

you take in a shuddered breath as you look at the backstage clock. it’s nearly time. those curtains are about to open and reveal you to whoever it is that’s so important on the other side of the heavy red velvet cloth. you shake your arms and take a few calming breaths as the lights dim further than they already are.

it’s showtime.

you make the decision to not look. you train your eyes to the ground as the curtain rises from the floor, slowly revealing you in your fitted black floor length dress. the thigh slit that reaches your hip leaves you feeling far more vulnerable and exposed than you’d like to admit. as you look everywhere but at the vip section you realize you may be revealing far too much skin with an important guest in the audience. the top half of this dress wasn’t any better either. the short sleeves felt as though they were simply a decoration — hanging off your shoulders exposing not only just your shoulders, but your collar bones and cleavage as well.

you’re hyper aware of your appearance and now so is chuuya. his breath hitches when the curtain reveals you. you looked devastatingly beautiful, the kind that could ruin his life and he would thank you for it. how did he not know it was you? you’d always piqued chuuya’s interest. he paid closer attention to you than his other subordinates and he had noticed you were always busy on friday nights, but he never would have imagined in a million years that this would be the reason. chuuya didn’t even know you could sing but here you were, singing like a siren and ensnaring the executive in your trap. he was absolutely mesmerized, hanging on to every word you sang.

the executive desperately wants you to look at him but he quickly notices you’re adamantly avoiding the vip section — his section. do you know he’s here? does he make you nervous? the thought of making you nervous stirs something inside of him. something he thought he had suppressed a long time ago because it’s entirely inappropriate of him. chuuya desires you, deeply, desperately, dangerously. watching you on that stage, in that dress has him clenching his jaw. his self control is waning quickly.

you get through the first song with a surprising amount of ease. your rigid muscles relax as you melt into the melody. your nerve endings igniting with the reverberations of the instruments behind you. you feel electric, everything buzzing as you make it to the last song.

luckily, for you, it’s only supposed to be a short set tonight, 3 songs total. so, when you reach the end of the final song you finally allow yourself a glance. your eyes widen and lips part in utter shock to find the very bicolored eyes that have been haunting your thoughts since you first laid your sights on them. as the curtain drops you reel at the fact that the important guest was none other than the club owner himself, your superior in the port mafia, and executive. chuuya nakahara. your vision tunnels and ears ring as you pretend to listen to whatever praises are being handed over by the crew. you manage to accept them with grace easily then dismiss yourself to your dressing room.

you don’t think much time has passed since the curtain dropped, but you’re proven wrong when you walk through the threshold of the dressing room and the door is promptly shut, revealing your superior. your posture turns rigid and chuuya watches you intently as you swallow thickly. you think the look in his eye is something akin to a predator gazing upon its prey. chuuya doesn’t miss your change in demeanor and the way your throat bobs anxiously. it’s all he needs to know that his earlier suspicions were right. he does make you nervous.

you bow your head instinctively and offer him a respectful greeting, just like you’d normally do while at work. “i was told someone important was coming to watch my show tonight but i wasn’t aware it’d be you, thank you for coming, nakahara-sama.”

“chuuya. no need to be so formal here…” although chuuya would be lying if said you referring to him in such a way didn’t do something to him.

here you are, the most gorgeous woman he’s ever had the pleasure of laying his gaze upon and you’re being the respectful one. as much as chuuya wants to boast about you clearly admiring him as a superior, that’s not what he’s here for. now that he knows you’re the one that has brought his club popularity, he needed to reward you properly.

”you watch him carefully, making sure he means what he said — it doesn’t take you long to realize he’s being sincere. “right. then… thank you for coming, chuuya.”

oh. his name has never sounded so sweet. but when it falls from your lips like honey, he can’t help but to crave more.

your voice is saccharine, a true gift from the angels. in fact, your superior isn’t quite convince you aren’t an angel after hearing that set. you truly must be otherworldly. it’s the only explanation.

“have to say, didn’t even know you could sing, let alone sing like that.” you watch as the ginger crosses his arms over his chest and leans back on the door. chuuya adjusts his hat and peers down at you through his surprisingly long lashes.

you’ve never been a skittish person, but chuuya nakahara makes you nervous as hell. “i wasn’t keeping it a secret. you just never asked.”

“‘spose i should apologize for that then, huh? i just assumed i always made it obvious that i paid special attention to you. but i guess in this situation, that still wasn’t enough. how do you suggest i make up for not asking, doll?” his bicolored eyes scan your face, an easy smile stretching his lips.

you blink once, twice, three times trying to comprehend what he’s asking you. his smooth honey-like voice entrancing you and making your mind dizzy at the utterance of the term of endearment. your mind is simultaneously moving too fast and too slow. you’re buffering in real-time. you try to snap yourself out of your stupor but it’s hard when the most gorgeous man is standing in front of you, gaze lidded and hungry and directed towards you.

you swallow thickly again and manage to rasp out, “buy me a drink?”

the ginger cracks a smile and before he can even say anything, there’s a rap at the door. chuuya pushes himself off the wooden panel and swivels around. he only cracks open the door enough for him to peek his head out and speak with someone in a hushed tone. you can’t see anything and you think twice about trying to peer over the executive’s shoulder. chuuya toes the door shut and turns around presenting you with a wide grin.

“why don’t we move this conversation back to my section in the club? i have a surprise waiting for you there.” chuuya steps closer to and casually reaches out and holds the middle of your bare back to guide you.

you don’t have time to form a single coherent thought to even think about declining. you’re being gently pushed towards the dressing room door that chuuya manages to hold open. his hand doesn’t leave your back for a second as you both walk to his semi secluded section. your head is dizzy again. the feeling of the smooth leather from his gloved hand sends a shiver through your spine that you swear he notices, if the smile he’s wearing has anything to show for it.

when you get close enough, you notice two empty glass flutes and the most expensive bottle of champagne this club carries sit atop the table of chuuya’s booth. it’s probably the most expensive bottle of alcohol you’ve ever laid your eyes on. there was no way that was the bottle you thought it was. when you finally get closer you quickly read the label. sure enough you were right, a bottle of dom perignon plenitude 2, brut champagne 2003. your eyes nearly bug out of your head and your mouth moves before you can even second guess your words.

“this is not what i meant, chuuya, this… i can’t accept this.” you stare at the bottle of champagne carefully, it costs far more than what you make in a night singing here.

chuuya’s smile is warm and reassuring as he sort of chuckles through his nose. “don’t worry, doll, you deserve this. it’s no sweat, just enjoy it, okay?” his hand slides up to between your shoulder blades and down again just above the swell of your ass then he repeats that action a few times, clearly trying to sooth your anxious mind.

you involuntarily relax and eventually concede. “fine, i suppose if you’re offering… who am i to refuse at least a glass?”

the grin that you receive from the executive is nothing short of triumphant. the way his nose scrunches a tad bit and the way the dimple on his left cheek becomes more prominent makes him look much younger and full of energy than his usual demeanor does. his smile is contagious, you can’t help but to offer him one of the same value. it takes his breath away.

you take chuuya’s breath away.

the ginger sits in his thoughts and admiration just a little too long. you notice his sudden daze and tilt your head in confusion. “you still here with me? why don’t you do the honors. it’s embarrassing to admit, but i’ve never been very good at opening champagne bottles.”

chuuya lets out a chuckle and reaches for the bottle. you watch in wonderment as he pops it open with ease. you figured chuuya would want the first pour but after filling the first glass he hands it straight over to you. you’re not sure if it’s true but you’ve heard something about the first pour after opening a bottle of wine was the best. you wonder if the same applies to champagne.

at some point during your walk over to the booth, chuuya had taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. he must’ve gotten hot, you vaguely rationalize. you try, and fail miserably, to not ogle at the extra bit of skin and muscle the executive is displaying. maybe he had the right idea. it was getting hot in here.

if chuuya notices he doesn’t say anything.

he does notice, it’s hard for him not to. his lips curl slightly at the way your eyes not so subtly trail along his arms. you probably would have caught it if you weren’t so preoccupied. he thinks about making a remark but doesn’t want to embarrass you. so, instead, chuuya clears his throat and holds out his drink to make a short toast.

you tilt your head with a look of curiosity, waiting for him to make his toast.

chuuya gets the memo and clears his throat almost as if he was nervous. “to your successful set tonight and to making this my most successful club.”

“this is your most successful club?!” you can’t help the obviously baffled guffaw that leaves your throat.

you knew this was a popular club. the public loves the idea of a speakeasy. an obvious difference in vibes from a modern day club — it was a welcomed change. after all, that’s what drew you to it in the first place too.

to think that this club was so bustling because of you, however, was an entirely different thing. there is no way that this establishment is so lucrative based solely on your performances alone. you can’t possibly take full credit for it. somebody had to have come up with the idea of open mic nights. whoever that was, should be toasted to. not you.

chuuya chortles, clearly finding the shock in both your face and expression amusing. “yes, doll. friday nights specifically. they’re my best nights.”

oh.

yeah, you couldn’t exactly delude yourself into thinking the club's success isn’t because of you anymore. these were clearly your nights. the idea is far too much for you to wrap your head around. you never would have imagined that people enjoy your voice in general. so, to know they not only enjoy it, but they seek it out every week makes your head spin.

you need more champagne.

you finish off the last few sips you have left in your flute then reach for the very expensive bottle sitting next to chuuya. you’re not fast enough, though. chuuya’s nimble fingers wrap around the neck of the dom perignon to pick up the champagne. you think he’s trying to play keep away with you but you’re proven wrong when he tops you off — still with an amused lopsided grin gracing his features.

you take generous and consecutive sips from your newly poured glass, downing almost all of it in one go. your eyes water and throat stings from the influx of bubbles filtering through your esophagus. the expression on your face scrunches up into a grimace, the sting from the champagne surprising you. you panic as you feel an air bubble traveling back up. you try your best to suppress the burp threatening to release from your throat. you're successful but in place of a burp you let out a squealed hiccup. it’s soft enough to where you think you may have gotten away with it but the look on chuuya’s face says otherwise.

the executive is clearly amused, displaying another wide smile. “thought you said you were only going to have one glass? you’re gonna end up too tipsy before i can even ask you to dance with me.”

you look at him in a daze. your face heats up and you come to the conclusion that it’s equal parts embarrassment and the alcohols affect. your whole body ignites, buzzing as the alcohol runs its course and makes your inhibitions loosen.

this is dangerous.

who knew all it took was two glasses of expensive champagne to have your head spinning and mind wandering to places about chuuya it shouldn’t. he is your boss, your higher up, your superior. it’s embarrassing, really, thinking the ginger would, in any way, reciprocate your interest. it had to be a ridiculous notion, right?

wait.

rewind.

he said dance with you. he wanted to dance with you? god, you now desperately wish you hadn’t drunk so much already. the thought alone of dancing with chuuya made your legs wobbly, add the alcohol in the mix and your leg muscles were turning to jelly.

“dance? you want to dance… with me?” your mind clearly wasn’t wrapping around the concept.

chuuya gives you a curious look. “what? don’t think i can dance?”

you weren’t expecting his playful tone and that devilish smile that’s gracing his lips. as a matter of fact, this chuuya — the one here tonight — is a far cry from his usual self. although you suppose you’ve never seen the executive in a setting where he can be more relaxed. the port mafia doesn’t exactly allow chuuya much room to be a laxed 20-something year old. he’s the strongest ability user, after all. he’s also the port mafia’s most talented fighter, with and without his ability. he’s a forced to be reckoned with and it radiates off of him when he’s wearing his executive mask. a scowl is almost permanently etched onto his face. you actually used to think it was his resting face.

the aura he radiates is one of intimidation. stained red from the blood of his victims and scorching like a raging fire. you hate to admit it but you used to avoid chuuya. he terrified you. but the more you were around him and the more you saw of him that changed.

of course, every interaction you’ve had with him thus far has been strictly professional, naturally. yet, you won’t lie, there was more than one occasion where you’ve let your mind wander to what he’s like outside of his duties. you got glimpses of it in the way he interacts with those he’s truly close with. you think that chuuya it beautiful. a stark difference from the horrifying monster the lower ranks paint him out to be.

but even when he’s with the people he trusts the most, he’s still at work. this is different. so, you decide this chuuya, here tonight, is refreshing.

you’re not sure if the decision is solely based on your current inebriated state or not, but right now you could care less. you finally let yourself relax, nerves rolling off your body and evaporating. it’s a visible change that chuuya makes sure to take note of as you return his current energy.

“chuuya-san, that’s quite the assumption, don’t you think? what makes you think that i spend any time thinking about whether you can dance or not?”

your lashes flutter almost flirtatiously (you blame it on the alcohol) as you tease him. you know well that he hates being referred to in such a formal manner — even by his subordinates. chuuya’s quick, though, and immediately catches on to your teasing. his bicolored eyes almost twinkle with amusement and he offers you a hand. the action is so smooth you don’t even question it, in fact, you don’t even react at first.

“first you question my dancing skills and now you refuse to dance with me? damn, doll, you’re breakin’ my heart.” chuuya snorts at the way your face twists in horror as you realize what’s going on.

“i- no! i’m not- that’s not- !” you stumble over yourself, words spilling from you faster than what your mind can keep up with. you take a breath and grab the ginger’s hand, quite aggressively, and pull him onto the dance floor.

you’re not quite sure where this sudden burst of confidence comes from, maybe yet another thing to blame on the alcohol, but you roll with it. despite the look and feel of the club, it was still past midnight on the weekend. the speakeasy atmosphere has been replaced with a dj and modern music filtering through every conceivable speaker in this establishment.

everything is vibrating, it makes it hard to discern whether your fingers are steady or not. god, you hope your fingers are steady as you guide chuuya’s hands to your hips — you also hope you’re not being too forward. the thought is distant and nagging, much like if someone was lightly hammering a dull nail to the back of your head. you let yourself slip into the anxiety spreading in your chest and for a split second, you think your fears are founded, because the gravity manipulator’s fingers ghost your hips, distinctly not finding purchase on your hips.

the thought of him being nervous too isn’t plausible in your mind, so you don’t even entertain it.

just as you’re about to draw back and pull away, mortified by your own boldness, your breath catches. in fact it almost halts altogether because chuuya’s pulling you closer to him. with your back flush to his chest, you can feel the heat of his body emanating from him. distantly, you wonder if he just naturally runs hot or if it’s just the club, the people all around you, the buzz of the alcohol.

the heat is oddly calming, a reminder of his presence safeguarding your largest vulnerability. maybe that’s the reason he chose this position in the first place, the act of dancing was already exposing enough, you didn’t need to worry about your back being watched when chuuya is sheltering you so well.

chuuya’s wandering hand splaying across your lower stomach and pushing down says otherwise, though. a pleasant chill courses through you, despite the humid air.

you need to steady yourself, his presence is entirely overwhelming, consuming you almost completely.

all you can do, all you want to do, is breathe him in.

you need to ground yourself before you do something stupid. you reach up behind yourself and clasp your hand around the back of chuuya’s neck, fingers scraping against his skin lightly as you card your fingers through his hair. the tips of his own fingers on your lower abdomen bite into the fabric of your dress. his other hand grips your hip and guides you, moving you against him — with him.

it’s easy, moving your body in tandem with his. matching his movements was easy and you have to admit to yourself that he’s a really good dancer. chuuya has total control over his body and knows exactly how to move it. you don’t know why you’re so surprised, his extensive training in the martial arts and flexibility have to make for an excellent dancer and it shows.

you’re so caught up in the feeling of him, the heat of him, against you that your source of intoxication shifts from the alcohol to him. you’re so drunk off the smell of him, off the closeness of him, off the way you can feel every hard muscle of his chest and abdomen against your back. your senses are so clogged up with him that nothing else is getting through.

it doesn’t help that your body is moving on it’s own.

or is it?

no. it’s chuuya, he’s guiding your body. your ass is firmly pressed against him, grinding into him and you hadn’t even noticed in your stupor.

this is so inappropriate. he’s your higher up for god’s sake. this is wrong, right? but then again…the executive is the one that’s leading your actions, he’s clearly enjoying himself as much as you are. no harm in indulging yourself in him if he’s helping himself to you, right?

in the same moment, chuuya is dipping his head down, lips grazing and breath ghosting the shell of your ear. “you still doubtin’ me?”

you take in another shuddered breath. this man is killing you. he’s doing this on purpose, he has to be. you try to put the blame solely on his shoulders — you want this to be all him so badly. but you know that’s simply delusional because you’ve been drinking and you know very well how alcohol makes you act up.

chuuya teases you further by dropping his head down to your shoulder and nestling his face in your neck. you can feel his warm breath fanning over your skin. electrifying every nerve ending in your body, making your whole being feel like it’s buzzing. you don’t miss the way his lips stretch into a satisfied smirk. it’s then that you realize — he’s doing all this on purpose. the executive is toying with you, creating a game out of making you squirm and seeing how long your self control can last.

how cruel. he knows how stubborn you can be, showing that side of yourself in almost every mission you two have worked together. but he’s never had experience with you intoxicated (luckily for you). so, chuuya also has no idea just how far you throw your inhibitions out the window when alcohol is involved.

the ginger is taken by surprise when a small noise akin to a whimper is released at the back of your throat. if he wasn’t so close to you, he would have missed the noise completely, but he caught it loud and clear, much to your embarrassment. chuuya is stunned further when your backside presses into his front and grinds down harder than your previous slight brushing. you’re absolutely shameless about it, fingers digging into the base of chuuya’s scalp.

you move your head and match his lidded gaze. “pleasantly surprised…”

in that moment you both move without thinking. it’s like something possessed you both, swam into your brain and took control. it happens so quickly too. one moment you’re simply staring in to eyes and the next, your lips are crashing into the ginger’s, meeting him halfway. it’s surprisingly smooth, an easy kiss considering your slightly intoxicated state. his lips are so plush and soft. you don’t know what you expected. you’ve caught yourself on multiple occasions watching him apply chapstick regularly and each time you were caught in a trance at the action.

chuuya knows exactly what he’s doing, almost as if he’s thought about this before — kissing you. his movements are deliberate and surprisingly soft for how eager he seems. your lips move in sync, slotted together and fitting in a way that makes you think that maybe you were made for one another. it’s a ludicrous thought, you know, but that doesn’t stop you from relishing in it all the same. this must be what dying and then going to heaven feels like, light and elated.

you’re both moving your bodies to the music around you. it’s quite impressive how chuuya is able to still lead you into moving in time with the beat reverberating through your bones. you turn your body so your chest is flush with his and you bring your other hand up to cup the executive’s face. he takes that opportunity to hold you closer and deepens the kiss. the ginger nips at your bottom lip then shamelessly swipes his tongues along it, eyes open to gauge your reaction. another whimper escapes you and you feel his lips curve once more into a satisfied smirk.

instead of deepening the kiss further, like where you thought chuuya was leading this, the man in question pulls away. you chase his lips but he’s too quick and you can’t manage to recapture them. how frustrating, it was just getting good too. your face scrunches in confusion.

“chuuya, no-” you lean in and leave an open mouth kiss on his neck and then suck some of his skin into your mouth and graze your teeth across his porcelain skin. chuuya lets out a shuddered breath but keeps his composure, for the most part. “more…”

your whine elicits a breathy laugh from the executive and he brings his hand up to gently stroke your cheek. he watches as your pretty eyes flutter shut at the slightest of touches. his imagination starts to run wild as he thinks of the types of reactions he can pull out of you when he does more to you. the thought alone almost drives him insane. you two need to get the hell out of this club and away from prying eyes.

“we have eyes on us, doll. why don’t we get out of here?” chuuya hums at you questioningly.

your eyes clear from their haze when the ginger’s words register. “...and go where?”

“my apartment. it’s not too far from here. plus- i brought a driver with me tonight. what do you say?”

the executive, your higher up, detaches himself from you and holds his hand out for you to take. your decision was made the moment you set eyes on him while on stage. you easily take his hand and allow him to lead you out to the car he had waiting for the two of you.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

the car is nice, again it was something that costs far more than what your level at the port mafia could afford, but you’re still surprised. chuuya enjoys driving, so you never imagined him using a chauffeur. although you suppose he’s responsible and since he’s been drinking at a club…this is clearly the chuuya thing to do.

the chauffeur does his duty and goes to open the door for you. the younger man, someone you don’t recognize so he must be lower in ranks than you, is stopped by chuuya. the boy, you’ve decided he’s much younger than you — somewhere between 18 and 19 years old — startles at the executive’s hand landing on his shoulder.

“you can return to the car, kid. i’ve got the doors.” chuuya’s tone is light, but still, his words come out as a command.

the chauffeur looks absolutely horrified, obviously thinking he did something wrong and scurries back to the driver’s side. the ginger, on the other hand, clearly pays it no mind as he opens your door for you and offers his hand for help. you let out a light giggle and chuuya can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face.

“what i do now?”

you shake your head at him in amusement. “that kid looks terrified. are you sure he’s even old enough to drive?”

“he is. taught him how to drive myself. trust me, he’s more than capable of driving us to my apartment.” he tilts his head to indicate that you should get moving into the car.

instinctively, you do as he says and make your way into the car. your head is still spinning from the champagne you had earlier and suddenly everything is moving quickly. chuuya gets into the car and tells his driver to get moving before lifting the partition, separating the two of you from the boy up front.

not even a moment later you find one hand gripping the armrest of the car door and the other gripping chuuya’s arm as he has his own ungloved hand shoved in between your thighs. his middle finger is toying with you, circling your clothed clit. your grip on him tightens when he shoves your panties to the side and gathers your wetness before focusing on your clit again.

your hips stutter and head falls back. your hazy senses distantly warn you that maybe doing this in a car where you aren’t alone with chuuya wasn’t a good idea. what if the driver opens the partition to ask something of your higher up. once again you’re smacked in the face that this isn’t exactly right, you shouldn’t be headed home with your boss.

you’re brought out of your thoughts when chuuya’s fingers dip down further and prod at your entrance. your breath hitches as he pushes his middle finger inside of you. his fingers are the perfect size, surprisingly long and not abnormally thick but not thin either. you’ve found yourself on multiple occasions staring at chuuya’s hands in the rare moments he actually removes his gloves.

you can feel a noise bubbling in your throat when he brushes his thumb across your clit. “chuu-“ you’re cut off when the ginger adds another finger.

you bite down hard on your lip, trying to not let any noises travel to the front of the car. chuuya notices and leans in, his arm reaching over to spread your legs open. his lips find yours as he does so and in that very moment he chooses to start languidly pumping his fingers in and out of you. you can’t help yourself as you let small moans escape you but the man pulling them out of you makes sure to swallow them up.

when chuuya pulls away from you his bicolored eyes watch you carefully. “no need to hide your pretty noises from me, baby. ‘s soundproof.”

at that reassurance you let out a string of curses while his hand still works you skillfully. you don’t think a man has ever been able to make you feel this good with just his hand. hell, you don’t think even a woman has pulled you so close to the brink this fast with just her hands. it’s almost embarrassing how good he’s making you feel. what’s even worse? chuuya notices.

“‘m i makin’ you feel that good already? gonna be good and cum for me, doll?” chuuya’s fingers speed up, both the ones inside you and the thumb he has brushing against your clit.

you squirm at the increased intensity. your abdomen feels like it’s on fire, the warmth spreads and your vision starts to become spotted. your other hand on the car door now flies to his arm too and you brace yourself the best you can.

“mm fuck- chuuya- gonna- oh m- cumming!” you let out a silent squeal, mouth hanging open as your head is thrown back against the headrest.

your body convulses lightly as you plummet. the same warmth building from earlier now spreading throughout your entire body. your vision blurs and everything sounds muffled. moans are falling from your mouth but you don’t even register them. chuuya is merciless with his ministrations. he continues to guide you through your orgasm.

once you’ve settled down, all of your tense muscles relax and you slump into your seat. you let out a whimper when chuuya finally pulls away, leaving you feeling distinctly empty. you loll your head around to look at the executive. it’s all you can muster in this moment while you’re still trying to catch your breath.

the sight you’re met with almost makes you cum for the second time. the ginger looks over to you, catching your gaze immediately. as he maintains eye contact, chuuya brings his hand up to his lips and pushes his soiled fingers past them. you watch as his eyes flutter and throat bob while he drinks up the juices you left behind on his skin. he lets out a sinful groan and you swear it’s the most alluring sound you’ve ever heard.

you sit up straight and brace yourself for climbing over the center armrest but you’re both startled by a knock on chuuya’s window. that’s when you realize, you must be at his apartment because the car had come to a stop. you reach for your door handle but the sound of the executive behind you clicking his tongue draws your attention away from it.

you peer over at him and he’s giving you a disapproving glare. “don’t you dare touch that damn door, be patient, yeah?”

you feel your face flush, you don’t think you’ve ever been scolded for trying to open your own door. unable to find your voice you simply nod your head. a gratified smile stretches across chuuya’s face. he opens his own door and before he slips out he looks back at you.

“good girl.”

you choke on your own spit.

those two simple words are enough to have your thighs rubbing together, ready for him again. you’re blaming all of this in the two glasses of champagne you had back at the club. there was no way one man (derogatory) was pulling this kind of reaction out of you on his own. that would just be utterly ridiculous.

that’s what you try to convince yourself of when your car door opens and chuuya offers you his hand again. you gladly take it considering this time your legs are a little shaky. the gravity manipulator politely dismisses the driver and guides you into the building.

the ginger has you attached to his hip as the both of you step through the threshold. the lobby is quiet and almost sparkling. you think that this lobby is nicer than the entirety of your apartment. the difference is almost jarring. the older man that’s sitting at the front desk waves politely at chuuya and the executive gives him a friendly wave back.

“good evening, nakahara-sama. i see you’ve brought a guest.” the older man looks at you with a warm smile. “such a pretty young lady. it’s nice to see nakahara-sama with someone, he rarely has guests outside of his work colleagues.”

you feel your face heat up in embarrassment. if only the man knew. but who are you to spoil his fun? in fact, you find yourself joining in.

“it’s nice to meet you…”

the old man blanches and looks almost mortified with himself. “how rude of me! my name is tanaka.”

you introduce yourself as well and give the man a mischievous smile. “thank you for boosting my ego, tanaka. it’s nice to know chuuya isn't bringing home many women.”

the older man’s eyes widen and he tries to stifle a snort.

“alright. you two are dangerous together. have a good evening tanaka.” chuuya quickly ushers you away with a sour look on his face. “to clarify, there’s a reason i don’t bring other women around and it’s not for the reason you think it is.”

you snicker and can’t help the sardonic smile that’s plastered on your lips. “then tell me, what’s the real reason, chuuya?”

you vaguely notice you pass a hallway of elevators and instead walk directly to a separate one with a key card pad.

“you. you’re the reason i don’t bring anyone else around.”

his voice is surprisingly soft and timid, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say anything without full confidence. you blink, the switch in his demeanor is so staggering you buffer for a moment. that paired with the implications of his words has your mouth flapping like a fish out of water.

you try to attribute the fluttering in your stomach to your earlier activities and not his words, yet you’re unable to form a proper coherent thought. “what do you- what?”

chuuya finds your blanching absolutely adorable. the ginger lets out a short chuckle. he doesn’t explain himself. instead the ability user leans in and holds your face with his now gloved hand. he searches your eyes for a moment, you don’t know what he’s looking for but after a moment you think he’s found it because his face relaxes into a satisfied expression.

he leans in all the way this time, capturing your lips with his own. the kiss starts off gentle but quickly turns fervent when he presses you into his and a wall. that’s when you feel a distinct bulge pressing on your stomach. the thought alone makes you whimper.

you detach yourself from chuuya’s lips and press your head against the wall behind you, the ginger isn’t deterred as he starts to trail kisses along your jawline. “chuuya…have you been hard this entire time?”

you’re met with a grunt as chuuya all but ignores your comment and works his way down your neck. you let out an amused puff of air and look for the button for what you can only assume is his private elevator. all you’re met with is that damn keycard pad. your arm is snaked around his waist and you tap on his back to gain his attention.

“chuuya, call for the elevator.” your voice comes out far more strained and breathy than you meant it to and you watch as chuuya notices.

he pulls away from you, only enough for him to reach into his pocket and give you an amused smirk. “since when were you the one to give the orders, huh, doll?”

you give him a deadpan look, clearly not amused by his teasing. chuuya, however, evidently thinks he’s hilarious and chuckles to himself as he leans back and scans his keycard to call for the elevator. this was the port mafia executive everyone is scared of? the strongest ability user in all of japan, maybe in all of the world? to you, in this moment, he seems like just some regular 20 something years old loser. he’s so lame and somehow you find it utterly endearing.

the elevator dings and the doors open. a lightbulb goes on in your head and you have a brilliant idea. without wasting another moment you push chuuya into the elevator and before he can even get a complaint out — you knew it was coming by the look on his face — your hand starts stroking his clothed cock. the ginger lets out a hiss as he stumbles back into the wall.

chuuya lets out a shaky breath that’s a stark difference to his following words. “shit, no need to be so rough. ‘m all yours.”

“i don’t know…something tells me you enjoy rough, chuuya-sama.” your tone is teasing, referring to the title tanaka previously used with the executive.

you watch in absolute amusement as your superior’s eyes fly open and brows shoot up. he looks at you with the most scandalized expression. he’s only ever seen this side of you with his other subordinates, your equals. he never realize how much he craved this type of interaction from you until just now. you just gave him something so precious and you don’t even know it.

chuuya is so astonished he can’t even formulate a way to tease you, his mouth is just blurting out words before his brain can catch up.

“where the hell did that mouth on you come from? just earlier you were trembling at the sight of me watching you sing.” you watch something flash in his eyes and his lips curl up devilishly. “y’know what? i think i deserve a reward for making you cum so easily in the car. what d’ya think, doll?”

you back away, a mischievous smile of yours matching his perfectly. you don’t keep the distance very long — someone had to hit the floor button to get this elevator moving. once you feel the soft jolt of the elevator you make your way to where you left chuuya, still leaning against the wall and watching your every move. the moment you’re close enough to him you sink to your knees.

you’re face to face with the ginger’s bulging crotch and you stare at him through your lashes. “is this what you had in mind as your reward?”

”yeah, something exactly like this.” chuuya reaches down and runs the fingers of both his hands through your hair, he gathers the tresses all together and fists it all in one hand in a makeshift ponytail. you hum in appreciation. while still looking at the freckled man through your lashes you stick your tongue out and lick a stripe across his clothed length.

the executive’s eyes flutter, a clear indication that he was sensitive, having been hard for far too long. his eyes momentarily leave yours and flit over to the floor number the elevator is passing. chuuya never thought he would ever value the slow ascent of this damn elevator but he’s found a new appreciation for it. you’ve only climbed 3 stories, which means you still have 20 more. that’s plenty of time, certainly enough for you to get his dick wet enough to slide right into your warm cunt once the elevator has made it to your destination.

you’re quick to earn chuuya’s attention back when he hears the sound of his buckle being undone. he’s met with the sight of you using your teeth. fuck. chuuya has always known you’re sexy, but this? this might actually drive him insane. a sweet smile curls at your lips as you watch him unravel before your very eyes.

you hasten your movements, popping the button of his slacks open and using your teeth, once again, to drag the zipper down just enough that his bulge in his boxer-briefs is freed. you do the same with his underwear and, god, when he’s finally free you have to take a moment to admire it. you think it’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, truly. that’s saying something considering you don’t necessarily find the sight of them attractive.

the length of it is just as pale as the rest of his body but the closer it gets to the tip, his skin turns into a soft pink. his veins are visible and pulsing at this point and his tip is already drooling. you notice how there’s a string of precum that’s attached to the wet spot on his underwear but you keep any comments to yourself.

you look up to chuuya only to find him already watching you. he must have caught you staring because his breathing is shallow and his cheeks are flushed the same shade of pink as his tip. you smile at him again and dart your tongue out to gently lick the slit of his tip. the ginger's head immediately falls back and he lets out a puff of air.

how is this man real?

you lick up his precum and it tastes absolutely divine. what the actual fuck is he made out of? and what the actual fuck is he doing to you? you actually think it’s insane how much you’re enjoying this.

your lips wrap around his tip and a low grumble reverberates in his chest. you’re so fucked. down horrendous for this man. your thighs start rubbing together and he’s not even hitting the back of your throat yet. this is so humiliating, no, this is so pathetic of you. you gladly got on your knees for this man. what the fuck is wrong with you?

”hah- doll, keep your pretty eyes on me, yeah? sh-shit- wanna see you cryin’ when you take all of me, got it?” chuuya’s bicolored gaze is somehow still sharp despite the obvious loss of a filter.

oh.

that’s what’s wrong with you. this man isn’t just a man. this is chuuya nakahara. port mafia executive, strongest ability user and apparently the owner of a silver tongue. your own had reaches up to his, the one that’s holding your hair and you guide him in shoving you down onto his length. you relax your throat and easily take him all in. your nose is buried in his pubic hair and eyes flutter as you test tightening up your throat around him. you gag around chuuya and he let’s out the most obscene moan you think you’ve ever heard.

the port mafia executive looks a mess. his free hand is tightly gripping his hat atop his head and the perspiration forming on his face starts to trickle along his temples and down his jawline. his breathing comes out in pants and he looks absolutely destroyed. a flicker of pride spreads across your chest. sure, this man has you on your knees voluntarily but you think he would just as easily get on his knees for you. you have this powerful man in the palm of your hand.

the hand tangled in your hair tugs on you just harsh enough to pull you off of him completely. “jesus christ, i can’t- fuck- doll. i can’t keep doing this, i need to be inside of you. right now. need to be buried in your pretty cunt, please-”

chuuya doesn’t wait for your response, he lifts you off the floor of the elevator and hoists you up. his grip on his self control is noticeably waning as he momentarily uses his ability to skip stabilizing you on your feet and immediately has you wrapping your legs around his hips. your head is dizzy, everything moving so quickly. the ginger notices and instantly corrects that.

he has one arm wrapped around you and it’s enough to keep you stable. “…sorry… i got carried away. are you ok with this. we can wait, just 5 more floors and we can go to my bedroom where i have condoms.”

his free hand strokes the hair away from your face. the gesture is soft, a complete 180 from his previous behavior. you lean into the touch, letting your eyes fall shut for just a moment to relish in how he calms you.

you hum lightly and open your eyes to look at him earnestly. “no, i want you now too. think we’ve both waited long enough.”

chuuya smiles at you and leans in to steal yet other kiss from you. this one is soft but just as desperate as the rest of them. he sneaks his hand between the two of you and pushes your underwear to the side once again. you feel his cock nestle itself right between your folds.

chuuya lets out a strained exhale and moves his hips to slide himself between your folds. “fuckin’ hell, doll. you’re so damn wet, could get off just like this. wanna feel how soft and warm your pussy is, though. can i, baby? please?”

your hands tug at the hairs at the base of chuuya’s neck and he hisses. “chuuya, please, just fuck me already.”

that’s all the confirmation chuuya needs. he uses his free hand that’s still positioned between the two of you to grab the base of his dick and align himself with your entrance. his tips prods at you and as he’s sinking you onto him, both of you letting out an absurd amount of moans, the elevator finally dings. the doors open to reveal chuuya’s apartment to you.

you would love to admire the vast living quarters but your attention is solely on chuuya. the way he stretches has you in near shambles. hiccuped whimpers leave your lips and you already feel so full.

you weren’t going to last like this, there is no way in hell you’re going to last more than maybe 5 minutes. but based on chuuya’s reaction, incoherent babbles falling past his lips and hair matted to his forehead with sweat, neither was he. the mafioso’s present enough to know you’ve made it to his apartment.

chuuya plants a hand on both sides of your ass and walks you into his home. he kicks his shoes off haphazardly and you let yours fall somewhere near his. your superior makes it all but 7 paces forward before he’s pressing you against a wall in the foyer.

“you feel s’fuckin’ good, baby. s’tight and warm and soft. s’perfect f’me.” the ginger’s words are slurred, more so than when he was actually drinking.

you’re in no better condition as you whine out, “chuuya, need more. need you to move, wanna feel you moving inside of me.”

who is he to deny you of such a pretty request. you’re practically sobbing when chuuya’s hips roll into you before pulling back and bullying back into your fluttering cunt. you let out a loud moan, almost screaming, the kind that hangs on the walls and echoes throughout the room. before you can get too carried away, you crash your lips into chuuya’s and let him drink up your noises just as you do with him.

his grip on your ass is bruising as his fingertips bite into the plush skin through your dress. god, your dress, it was one of the nicest articles of clothing you own and now it’s most definitely ruined. you hardly have the capacity to worry about that right now.

chuuya’s pace quickens to an impossible pace. he’s jostling you around so much that your head dizzies and you can’t even keep your lips attached to his. you let your head drop to the executive’s shoulder and your lips ghost his earlobe. your moans and whines are now loud and clear in his ear.

a guttural groan escapes the ginger and his hips begin to stutter. he’s close, you identify it right away. he was going to cum soon and you were still on the brink, barely not there yet.

“more, chuuya need- oh my god- need more, please…”

chuuya hums out an acknowledgement — maintaining his pace, he frees one of his hands and reaches between the two of you once more. his middle finger locates your clit with ease and it almost sends you spiraling right then and there.

your forehead nuzzles further into chuuya’s neck at the extra stimulation. “chuuya- fuck- chuuya, chuuya, chuuya….”

your mind finally goes blank giving way to the man bullying into your cunt so deliciously. he’s all you can hear, feel, smell, taste and see. your senses are consumed by him. your eyes well up with tears at the immense amount of pleasure your experience.

it’s only when you have enough sense to pick up your head to warn chuuya of your incoming orgasm that your fuzzy brain registers the encouragement and cooing he’s offering you.

chuuya’s voice is strained but his comfort is enough to send you into a fit of sobs as you finally crash into your second high of the night. this one is far more intense than the last. you feel your walls convulsing around chuuya’s cock, sucking him in and trying to keep him nestled deep inside of you. the aforementioned man seems to be at his wits end and his next words prove you right.

“o-oh- hah- fuck- doll, ‘m gonna cum- fuck- where do you want it, where do i- shit-“

you grip his shoulders desperately and let out a whimper, still incoherent and flitting in and out of consciousness as your orgasm still washes over you in waves. “inside- chuuya, want you to- mmm fuck- want you to cum inside of me. please, please, please-“

that’s it, that’s the only thing you need to say to have chuuya burying himself deep inside of your cunt and spilling into you. you can feel the way his cock twitches and pulses against your walls as he empties himself. you both breathe in unison as your try to catch your breath and come back to reality from the mind breaking pleasure you’d just experienced.

chuuya’s the first to come back. he straightens, letting his coat hit the floor. he’s gentle, moving you to lean into him as he continues to support you when he peels you off the wall. you hum in appreciation and vaguely realize you should wrap your arms around his shoulders, so you do.

chuuya doesn’t take you far. you’re lifting your head the same moment he’s squatting down to sit you both on the couch. he hoists you up, ready to slip himself out when you let out a noise that’s a cross between a whine and a whimper. you’re shaking your head at him and how is he supposed to say no to your tear streaked face.

chuuya allows you to cockwarm as he pulls his phone from his pocket and starts typing.

your head tilts in confusion and you furrow your brows at him. ”who are you texting?”

”the boss and akutagawa.” chuuya’s quick to answer as he types away still.

”…what for?”

he smirks and looks at you this time while he speaks. ”i need to tell the boss i’ll be missing our meeting tomorrow and akutagawa that you’ll be absent from assignment tomorrow. looks like we’ve both come down with a hellish stomach bug.”

your face flushes at his implication. it seemed to you chuuya didn’t plan on letting you sleep much tonight. you find yourself running your hands over his shoulders and chest. you wouldn’t mind seeing him completely undressed. when you look back at him, he seems to have the same thought as his eyes drink you in.

it’s probably for the best that he was calling you both off duty tomorrow. it seems like you have a long night ahead of you.

#chuuya x reader #chuuya smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #chuuya x you #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x you #chuuya x fem!reader #bsd x fem!reader #bungo stray dogs x fem!reader #bsd chuuya #᯽. banners/dividers made by @/cafekitsune #᯽. éli originals

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imfoive · 1 month ago

Text

Wished We Never Met

Seungmin x Reader (fem.) Genre: First Love-Second Chance Romance au!, Friends-to-Lovers, Angst, unrequited love, hint of Fluff Warnings: mentions of drinking, cursing, death by accident, somewhat proofread WC: 4.8k A/N: Found the draft to this old fic of mine, I loved writing it then so had to rewrite now for old times’ sake.😔 (sorry jeongin agsgsgs) Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

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The reception hall glimmered under the fancy chandelier lights, the thrum of soft music creating a comfortable, yet exciting atmosphere. One by one, elegantly dressed friends and family took to the floor, their heartfelt speeches making everyone shed tears. Celebrating the union of the two lovers.

Yet amidst the joy, the bride’s best friend sat in a daze. His teeth gnawed at the inside of his cheek, leg trembling slightly. From the nerves. From the whirlwind of emotions that he had mastered to hide.

All he wanted was to escape, to flee this beautiful venue and not look back at the bright lights and romantic ambiance that suddenly felt suffocating.

But he couldn’t. Not when his best friend cast that soft, knowing gaze in his direction, her eyes glistening as she listened to her mother’s speech, well wishes that made her eyes prick with happy tears she quickly brushed away.

And so, all he could do was stare.

He hated the way she smiles. The way her mouth parts into that toothy grin, lips curving, cheeks rising. Her eyes crinkling, sparkling with joy. He hated the sound of her laughter, its vibrations just enough to tug at anyone’s heartstrings.

His heartstrings.

Again. Her twinkling gaze was something he hated, the way her eyes always lightened up when she looked at the man she met two years ago at some book signing.

The man that she claimed was the love of her life.

He hated it. He hated him. But he wished he was him.

“—Seungmin.”

The way she whispered his name, her fingers grazing his hand as if it meant nothing to her but everything to him, was what he hated the most. Making his heart race with loud beats he was sure she would hear if it was quiet enough. The thrumming in his chest, the hot sensation that surged through his entire body, from just her gentle stare he swore he hated, was enough for him to push away all those negative thoughts.

“Good luck, I love you.”

Those words lose their magic when he has to stand before a crowd she had invited. When he had to express all the wonderful things he could say about her and her new husband.

He looked at her, at her groom. And the lies came out all too easily, a facade of smiles, a mask of happiness.

Because he could never bring himself to say “I wish we never met.”

“I wish we weren’t friends."

“I wish…she would have chosen me.”

Those words stay lodged in his throat, heavy and suffocating, too painful to voice aloud for everyone to hear.

For her to hear.

Instead, his hand gestured toward the couple, and words he didn’t truly want to say flowed out with surprising ease.

“—Jeongin, you’re a lucky man, I hope you make my best friend the happiest woman in the world. I wish you both a wonderful life together.”

Her new husband was a lucky man.

That part was true.

He must have done something grand in a previous life to live the one Seungmin longed for now. To sit next to his her. To marry the girl who he wished he had never met.

Y/N. His best friend.

The forced smile persisted, placing down the mic that he didn’t realized he had gripped a little too tightly while he spoke. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, a wave of joy that felt distant to the bride’s best friend.

The newlyweds shared a kiss, and Seungmin had to look away.

They say that when you love someone, their happiness should be enough for you.

But the best friend wondered if that was true. He couldn’t grasp the idea. How could he find joy when she wasn’t truly his?

It was things only a fool would come up with. To make themselves feel better for losing out on the girl.

Yet, it was at that moment that Seungmin realized he was a fool. That he shouldn’t stay.

He couldn’t stay.

A fool, who couldn’t watch her live her life as someone else’s lover, someone else’s wife, while he withered away at the sidelines. It would be cruel.

He would rather die.

He wished he never met her.

The years apart from her were just as painful as the years spent pining at her side. Sometimes, they would feel even worse.

When he would come home after an exhausting day at work, pulling away at his tie. He’d stare at the silence, at the emptiness of his flat, and think about Y/N.

Wonder what she was doing, how she had been. If she was happy.

He’d listen back to her voicemails, her cheery tone always carried loud in the air of his lonely apartment.

Her once best friend often thought back to their college days, to the moment they first met, he wishes it could all be undone.

He kept trying to remind himself how much he should hate her. Yet, as he stared at the ceiling late at night, he couldn’t think of anything but her stupid smile, her loud laugh, and her piercing gaze that drove him mad.

He wished he never met her.

Almost four years after he hugged her goodbye at the airport, shifting across the world for a job he didn’t particularly care for, but chased in desperation to get away, Seungmin saw her again.

He had promised to stay in touch. When she had cried in his arms before he left, saying goodbye to her best friend.

He promised to keep in touch, hop on video call, send emails. Anything that allowed them to hear each other’s voices, stay in each other’s lives.

But he didn’t, because he wished he never met her. Because he was too busy pulling away.

Four years later, when he spotted her in front of some flower shop, his first instinct was to run. Yet, his legs betrayed his thoughts, leaving him frozen in place.

His eyes drank in the sight of her. The fluttering feeling that he still suffered from intensified at just that mere glimpse of her. And even though there were clear changes from the time spent apart, Seungmin recognized her instantly, his eyes drawn.

There was no sign of her lucky man, just her.

It felt like time had frozen. Like they stood there forever. Y/N, lost in the flowers while he watched his own blossom, her.

He fought his thoughts. The ones that reminded him that he hates her, he should be hating her.

But her hand gripped his arm, pulling him from his thoughts, immediately back to this moment where she stared at him with wide eyes.

Shocked. Surprised.

He couldn’t stop himself from inhaling sharply. His heart beating erratically at her stunned form in front of him, so close. He hadn’t noticed her walk over, and now his mind was in a whirlwind, leaving him speechless.

“S-Seungmin!?” Her surprised voice and the beautiful smile that her lips morphed into, warms him.

Pathetically.

And before he could think, before he could respond with words, she pulled him into an embrace. Her arms, tight around his frigid figure.

Time seemed to have stopped once again, but he could feel the slight tremble of her body against him, hands gripping his coat.

She was crying. And his chest felt heavy.

“I missed you.” She whispered.

He missed her too. But the words refused to come out.

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The once best friends had met almost a decade ago.

Innocent freshmen in college, unsure of what was to come next.

The memory of it all was vivid, something Seungmin wished to forget but knew he never could. The image of her imprinted in his mind.

Y/N wore that bright red oversized hoodie Seungmin had stolen sometime after, still tucked away in the back of his wardrobe. Her clearly lost figure stood in the middle of the hall, attempting to take a step to the right, or maybe she should have gone left.

There was a printed schedule in hand, crumpled, perhaps from fishing it out of her pockets, from the frenzy she seemed to be in.

And those deer-in-headlights eyes that Seungmin couldn’t forget, ever.

Wide when he asked if she needed help. Eyes blinking rapidly before she slowly nodded.

They found themselves walking into the same lecture hall, sitting right next to each other, sharing awkward smiles. She had sighed in relief. Turning to face him with a grin he would find himself attempting to hate in the near future.

“I thought I’d never find this class, thank you—”

Y/N looked at him expectantly, yet even before he could respond with his name, her eyes flickered down to read his notebook, her eyes twinkled.

“Thank you Seungmin!” She beamed.

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Seeing her now felt like the first time all over again.

Except everything about it was different.

Her hair was styled in another way, her makeup style felt foreign. She had a slimmer frame, and a grey coat that wrapped her, nothing near the vibrant red hoodie.

“So, how have you been?” Y/N asked, looking up from her coffee.

Her voice was softer, calmer. A clear difference from what he remembered last. She’s changed.

He wished she hadn’t.

“Nothing much, just busy.” Seungmin replied, finally finding his voice.

His lips forced a smile he had perfected. Attempting to play it cool.

But an expression he couldn’t quite decipher crossed her face, yet her own soft smile still lingered.

“You’ve gotten so busy you’ve forgotten me, huh?” Her words were slightly playful, slightly something else.

But still, they cut deep. A pierce in his heart he couldn’t mask, his mouth parting yet void of any sound, ultimately at a loss for words.

How does he tell her the reason? The real truth?

How can he admit he’s stayed away because he hates her, because he wished he never met her?

Instead, he lied, his perfected facade of happiness etched across his face.

“You have Jeongin! You wouldn’t have felt my absence anyways.” He laughed, but Y/N didn't.

Her smile faded and he found his falling as well.

“Jeongin.” She repeated, her voice low, but her lips thinned into a gentle smile.

“...He passed away in an accident two years ago.” She tried to hide the hurt in her voice, but he heard it.

He inhaled silently, shock crossing his face. His heart sank, at the news he had gotten much too late.

At the expression he was not used to seeing on her face.

“I-I tried calling you, Seungmin—I needed you.” Her words were tinged with frustration, laced in sorrow.

He suddenly wished he never met her. But not because of the usual reason.

Because if he hadn’t met her, then he wouldn’t have hurt her.

Her vulnerable figure suddenly looked so small to him.

A whirlwind of emotions surged through him as he sat in disbelief, his throat dry, unable to speak. Processing everything.

Jeongin’s death had probably left her a mess. She must’ve needed her best friend at her side. Yet, he was no where to be found. He chose to hide away, afraid to get hurt, afraid that a glimpse of her perfect newlywed life would shatter his heart into even tinier bits of pieces.

He ran away like a coward.

Y/N wiped away the few tears that managed to escape, breathing in before offering a faint smile. One he wasn’t used to seeing from her. One he doesn’t like, he decided.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you feel bad. You don’t owe me anything. I’m sorry…” Her voice trailed off into a whisper, gripping at the coffee cup to calm her nerves.

They sat in a heavy silence, still, while everything around them seemed to move in its own hustle and bustle. But finally, Seungmin mustered the courage to stand. Looking down at her with an unreadable gaze.

Her figure followed, misunderstanding that he was leaving, perhaps truly in a rush to do something she had kept him from.

“Well, I guess you’re busy—” She began, but he cut her off with an embrace.

A sudden tackle of his arms that engulfed her in them tightly. Yet after the initial surprise, her tense body instantly relaxed, her form shaking once more in the warmth of his hug.

“I-I missed you.” She cried, her voice muffled against the fabric of his coat.

“I missed you too.” He responded, his voice cracking.

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They’ve kissed once, but both swore it was just a dumb mistake at a college party. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a dare, stupid spin-the-bottle shenanigans.

They were sophomores, still naive. Still trying to figure things out.

School, studies, love lives.

Yet she wasn’t aware that he had been on cloud nine during that kiss back then. Unaware that he lied and it meant something.

It meant everything.

He started wishing he never met her.

They’ve both dated others, partners they’ve liked, disliked for one another. But Seungmin always found himself returning to her, expecting comfort and company.

He poured out everything to her, in his worst times, yet when it was her turn, he was across the world, dodging her calls. He was too busy hiding.

Seungmin didn’t intentionally ignore her attempts to reach out, her calls, her voicemails. Emails he couldn’t find the courage to respond to.

After his move, they kept in touch for a while, but then life got in the way.

He was in a new country, new job. He was getting used to an independent life without her by his side.

Y/N was a new wife. She was working, creating a home. A new chapter of her life that didn’t leave room for a third person.

Their calls dwindled from twice a week to once every few months, until one day, they stopped altogether.

Although she did reach out from time-to-time.

One-sidedly.

It was always one sided. Seungmin was too afraid he would crack, he would pick up the call on a night he drank a little too much in attempts to distract himself from thoughts about her. He was afraid he would confess everything.

Tell her how lucky her husband was. Tell her how much he hated her smiles, her laughter. How he hated her piercing gaze that was able to read everything but all those fucking feelings he had felt for her.

She had invited him for get-togethers. To reunions during the holidays when she was sure he was free. But he never responded.

“You’re allowed breaks, man. I promise.” She once said in the last voice memo he had of hers before he changed his number.

Her voice booming loud with words he had memorized from replaying it often.

But he claimed he was busy.

He wished he hadn’t met her.

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“Seungmin, is that you?” He heard her voice from inside, in the bedroom.

“Yeah!” He replied, closing the main door behind him, taking in her apartment for the first time.

There were pictures of her and Jeongin lined on the walls, pictures of the two of them framed on a side table. That goofy one from a Halloween party in their junior year of college, still made him chuckle to himself.

The furniture was cozy, the air smelled like her perfume. The sight of the decorations were things he instantly connected to her, giving away to her personality. There was a pile of her favorite novels from her favorite author, stacked on the coffee table. The sight of which made Seungmin stare with a bittersweet smile because he knew Jeongin had liked them too.

“Was the place hard to find?” She asked, rushing out with that beautiful smile, hugging him softly.

His eyes took in the beautiful sight that was her, before quickly composing himself. He shook his head, handing her the bottle of wine he picked up on the was. He doubted they’ll drink it though, neither of them particularly liked wine.

She stared at it for a moment before her eyes flicked up at him, gazing at him with a teasing expression.

“What?” He voiced out, although he could tell what she was thinking, holding back a smile.

“Nothing.” She shook her head, attempting to stifle back her own laugh that fell out easily.

He couldn’t help but mirror, his lips parting into a wide grin at the soft sounds.

“I couldn’t just come empty handed… it’s my first time here.” He shrugged, only for her to laugh even louder.

The evening flowed smoothly. She told him about her job. How she had been since Jeongin’s passing, her mundane life as a young widow. He told her about his new position after being transferred back here. She teased him about working with a girl they both had gone to college with.

One she had assumed he had a crush on for some reason back then. A misunderstanding he had never corrected.

He laughed it off.

He wished he never met her.

But he couldn’t stop meeting her.

His feet would automatically walk until he stood outside her place. At her door. His fingers would press her contact on their own. To call her at random times and ramble about anything and everything.

They would go out together frequently for lunch, for dinner. To their favorite restaurants and eateries from back in the day. They spent a day at the beach, went to baseball games. They watched a dumb movie they made fun of on the way home.

He helped her around her place. Replacing that foyer lightbulb that had flickered for a good two days before it died and made Seungmin bang into her shoe rack on their way back from another night out. He hissed in pain, glaring at Y/N as she burst out into loud laughs.

Sounds that he was supposed to hate.

But he found himself chuckling along. Seungmin found himself falling deeper in love with her, uncertain of how she felt. Once again.

He was returning to that place. The one he hated. The sidelines that made him wish he never met her.

Their friends who were once mutual, who he reconnected with after his return, started to notice that she’s changed. Or perhaps returned back to her old self.

She smiled more, and left the house more often. She would crack dumb jokes again, things he didn’t know she had stopped after Jeongin. After he left.

Seungmin was glad he was the one bringing about that change. He was letting her pour out.

She cried in his arms one night.

For Jeongin, the evening of what would have been her fifth wedding anniversary. So they rented a sailboat on a whim, yet instantly felt stupid, staring at each other in their life jackets, wondering who would steer. Neither of them knew how to sail, a fact that made them burst into endless laughter.

They stay at the dock, talking, laughing, crying.

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It had been a year and some months since they’ve reunited. A year and more spent together, stuck to each other like glue. Like back in their college days.

Yet now, Seungmin found himself falling into a slight worry.

He was waiting for her at the movie theater, but she seemed to be running late. He glanced down at his watch, arms crossing over his chest as he stood in the lobby. His legs fell into a steady but slow pace, looking up every now and then towards the entrance hoping to see her emerging figure.

But she didn’t and anxiety began bubbling within him. Time continued to tick by, and he tried to call again. She didn’t pick up, again.

He glanced down at the time once more, the movie had started, yet she wasn’t here. Uncommon for Y/N who took arriving on time a little too seriously.

Before he could try to ring her, the call of his name made his head dart towards the direction.

“Oh Seungmin, hi!” It was his coworker.

The one Y/N thought he had a crush on.

The one he definitely did not have a crush on.

“Great to see you here! What movie are you watching?” She asked.

Seungmin smiled, looking up at the large overhead screens of movies playing tonight, pointing at the name of the one they planned to see.

His coworker narrowed her brows. “I think the movie started already.”

“Ah, I’m still waiting for someone.” He replied with a smile.

“Oh, Who?”

His lips parted to speak, yet even before a word came out, he felt the brush of a figure against him. Her body flush against his.

“His girlfriend.”

Y/N’s arm linked into his, and he was momentarily stunned, turning to look at her with a sudden surprise. Mind still stuck on the words she had uttered.

She chatted some more with his coworker. A brief conversation he had zoned out from. Her introduction replayed in his mind over and over again.

When the coworker he didn’t have a crush on left, Y/N finally turned to him. Her smile wide, a hint of mischief, a hint of something else.

“Sorry I’m late, I got held up in traffic.” She began, her cheeks flushed with a twinge of red.

But all he could do was stare. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but none formed words. Instead, he glanced down at their linked arms, then back to her.

Her own eyes followed, and she inhaled, as if she decided something. There was a sudden boldness in her actions, as she slowly trailed down her hand to find his, her fingers wrapping around his own.

She cleared her throat, her eyes locked on their intertwined hands. Unaware that this very act had made his heart erupt in his chest.

Y/N wasn’t sure when these feelings began to take root inside her.

These emotions of love. Of romance, that she was sure had faded when she lost Jeongin. Yet, here they were, perhaps lying dormant.

Waiting for her heart to heal.

Feelings that stirred awake when Seungmin had stared at her with that intent but soft gaze that one night.

She was convinced she was losing her mind. Surely, it was just the thrill of rekindling their friendship after so long apart. The giddiness of rediscovering experiences she hadn’t enjoyed in ages. The rush of feeling alive. And the person that made her crave all these things she didn’t realize she missed was Seungmin.

Seungmin, her best friend.

Seungmin who was her best friend.

Because somewhere within she had noticed. That he wasn’t the same guy she remembered. He had changed, grown into someone more charming, funnier, dashing even. Full of good changes. But still, things she wasn’t used to. A version of him she didn’t recognize.

Seungmin looked at her with the eyes of a stranger. Or perhaps, the eyes of a man.

Her cheeks flushed when he smiled, when he opened the door for her or pulled out a chair. Simple gestures that shouldn’t have made her feel special, but they did.

They still do.

And that night, after they had finished laughing at the show they had both mocked with commentary the whole time, Seungmin had fallen asleep, his head tilted back against the wall. All Y/N could do was stare at his lips, a sudden urge to kiss him washed over her.

She stiffened, instinctively moving away from him, the warmth between them replaced by the chill of the air.

Suddenly, everything he did made her cautious. His light touches, his lingering stares, his protectiveness. His random visits, helping around the house that felt so intimate, so domestic, that it made her stare at him with such intensity she felt slightly afraid. Even his groggy morning voice when she called him randomly, coaxing him into whatever wild plans she had, started to make her cheeks tingle.

Her heart began to race once again. Beating rapidly, erratically at the mere thought of him.

When Y/N watched Seungmin talk with a coworker from a distance, a surge of heat rushed through her, a twinge of jealousy sparking inside.

And even if they weren’t standing particularly close, and there was no flirting happening, the mere thought of him having a crush on someone else unsettled her.

Before she knew it, her feet were moving on their own, her arm slipping into his. And then she declared it. Voicing what she had feared to say aloud. Something she found herself wanting from the moment she realized.

“His girlfriend.”

She had gotten bold. She had even grabbed his hand. The adrenaline rush from claiming him as hers made her forget for a moment. But now, as she stared at their hands. His fingers tangled in hers, warm against her skin, she felt a surge of fear.

A sudden embarrassment washed over her, and she swallowed.

Y/N slowly stilled and instantly pulled away, her shocked eyes trailing up to meet his disappointed gaze.

“Is this too weird? Oh my god, I should’ve asked you first! I’m an idiot.” She was mortified, beginning to ramble, flustered and embarrassed.

Before he could think, before she could say anything else. Seungmin pulled her in. His palms cradled her cheeks, staring at her with an intensity that made her breath hitch in her throat.

“You don’t need to ask.” Seungmin dove in and finally kissed her.

Her wide, surprised eyes slowly fluttered close, and she kissed him back.

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Y/N had gushed about the “beautiful—no, the most gorgeous man” she had ever met, her heart racing as she recalled the moment her best friend would come to envy.

Seungmin who stared at her from his desk back in his college dorm room, had tasted bitterness from the sight of it.

He hated it. He hated that so-called gorgeous man.

He hated her.

He wished he had gone with her that day. To that stupid book signing he thought would be too boring. Seungmin should’ve ditched his own plans. Maybe she would’ve never met Jeongin. He wouldn’t have let her.

The day she went on her first date with the so-called gorgeous man, Seungmin was on his way to her place. He saw them when he pulled into the parking space in front of her building, smiles lighting up their faces.

The awkwardness in their air was anything but uncomfortable, the tell-tale signs of shy smiles and a blossoming romance Seungmin despised already blatant in their demeanor.

He gripped the steering wheel, a bitter feeling had washed over him.

He hated it. He started wishing he never met her.

Yet some years later, he would have never imagined they’d be here.

They’ve lived brief chapters of their lives that didn’t feature one another, yet ultimately found their way back to each other’s side.

They’ve kissed before, and they promised to forget. And here she was now, kissing him, marking him as hers and only hers, and that blissful feeling he craved washed over his entire being.

They continue to kiss, continue to make memories that belong to them and only them.

In the coming year, he would gather the courage to ask her to be his forever. She would cry, pulling him into her arms, whispering “yes” over and over as she kissed him again and again.

They’ll call each other silly names, relearn things about one another, bring back old quirks and habits. He’d come home from work, and she’d tackle him with her fit of giggles, washing away the exhaustion that he tried to bring with him.

He wished time would stop. He wished he could forget all those times he pushed himself to hate her.

────────────────────────

“I love your smile.” Seungmin whispered, his lips brushing against hers.

An action that made her erupt into a fit of giggles, breaking the silence in the room.

His arms snaked around her to hold her in place on his lap, eyes taking in the sight that is her.

“I love your laugh.” He continued, his nose grazing her neck, trailing soft kisses down to the sensative spot he was all too familiar with.

Y/N’s laughter immediately ceased from the tinglyness his lips brought, from the fluttery feelings he ignited. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, warmth radiating between them as she steadied herself over him.

“Kim Seungmin. Please, don’t tease.” Her voice was soft as she pulled back to meet his gaze, awaiting.

Desperate.

“I love that gaze.” His tone dropped, finally leaning in to kiss her deeply, until they became a tangle of limbs on the couch.

“Fuck, I love you.” He mumbled against her mouth.

She laughed softly again as he tugged at the bright red hoodie over her head, tossing it aside with a sudden urgency. Her fingers traced his jaw, then glide down to rest on his chest, feeling his heart beat erratically against her palms. Staring down at him with the most gentle gaze, eyes glimmering as she took in the sight of him.

Seungmin, her best friend. Her lover. Her husband.

“I love you too.”

She left a lingering kiss on his forehead, looking into his eyes once more with that beautiful gaze he loved.

“Happy anniversary, baby.” He whispered.

Y/N kissed him again, and he didn’t let go. Seungmin would never let go. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

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xamag-draws · 7 months ago

Text

BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

#my art #xam rambles #the black brick road of oz #long post #ohsees tag

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withwritersblock · 9 months ago

Text

Champagne Supernova

~Champagne Supernova by Oasis~

Author's note: this is inspired by the TV show My Mad Fat Diary because I was listening to this song and reminded me of the whole show. So this is loosely inspired by Rae and Finn. So this plus size reader :) Summary: Luke comforts Y/N after being nervous about being seen together.

Warnings: some triggering language regarding weight and personal image Word Count: 1,566 Luke Hughes x plus size fm!reader

She stared at her reflection contemplating if the New Jersey Devils sweater on her body was too tight. She tugged it at different places before she let out a groan. She moved towards her vanity, she sat down and pulled a headband on her head to pull her hair away from her face to get her makeup on.

Tomorrow is the stadium series for the New Jersey Devils and her long-term boyfriend Luke. They’ve been together ever since freshman year of high school. She tapped the small button beneath her vanity mirror to turn on the bright light to help her put her makeup on.

She had soft music playing in the background as she slowly began to add primer to her skin. Luke knocked on the bedroom door before peeking his head into their shared bedroom. He smiled as he saw the hints of the forty-three on the back.

“Devils stuff looks good on you,” he mumbled as he leaned down and ran his hands from her shoulder down her sides. He delicately pressed his lips to the top of her head. She smiled softly as she began dabbing her face with her beauty blender. “I’m excited to show you off to my teammates,” he muttered before he flopped down on the beanbag sitting beside the vanity.

He tilted his head back against the wall as he admired her features.

She has always been plus sized, well before they were in a relationship together. Luke has always found her the most beautiful girl in the world. They had three classes together their freshman year and Luke spent the majority of the first semester trying to convince her to go on a date with him.

In all honesty from the first time he asked her out, she was convinced he was doing it as a joke. It was hard to believe a handsome tall, athletic man like Luke would want someone like her. She never found herself pretty because of her weight. How could someone like him ever want someone like her?

But he did, and he spent months trying to prove to her how genuine he was. It took four months for her to finally say yes. He had spent every moment he could making sure she was happy and she was loved.

He’s been in love with her since the moment he saw her and six years later nothing has changed. At least he thought nothing had changed.

After being drafted for the NHL and officially playing for the team this season; Y/N has felt something shift in her confidence. She’s never wavered in her confidence level throughout their relationship. The occasional thought that he was staying with her out of convenience would come into her mind. But Luke would look at her with the same look he did the first time he said ‘I love you’ and the thought would disappear.

The more she started going to his games, she noticed the size of the other girlfriends of the players. How much more petite and bleached blonde they looked. It was hard to go up and say she was also dating one of the players. So, she never did. She would stay in the stands and watch instead of the WAGs suite.

“You’re staring,” she mutters as she begins to powder her features.

“I don’t see you enough anymore, I miss looking at ya,” he mutters as he delicately tapped his knee against her side. She smiled softly as she continued her makeup routine.

She felt her heart race as she continued to do her makeup. “I miss looking at you too,” she mumbled. He stood up slowly. He towered over her as he leaned down, she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. He took a hold of her chin, smiling softly as he leaned down and delicately kissed her.

He pulled away, only for a moment before he kissed her again. “Lukey,” she mumbled against his lips. He took a deep breath before pulling away only a few inches.

“I know,” he mumbled, “You have to get ready,” he let out before he planted another kiss on her lips before he slowly began to walk away. “I’m going to take a quick shower, my love,” he smiled towards her as he left the bedroom.

It took another thirty minutes before she was done with her makeup, she was unsatisfied with how it looked. Nothing seemed to make her look how she wanted to. Her makeup wasn’t sitting right and her hair was not looking how she wanted it to. She stood in front of the mirror as she ran her hand over her sides. The curves weren’t in the right spot, nothing seemed to make her look good or feel confident.

He knocked on the door again before he entered the room wearing the red and black Devils beanie and the bright red zip up. She forced a smile on her lips as she met his eye through the mirror. “You look beautiful,” he said as he shut the door behind him as he walked towards her. She clenched her jaw as she pursed her lips forward. He squinted his eyes, “What’s on your mind?” he asked as he delicately placed his hands on her hips. She pulled away from him, blinking rapidly.

“I don’t know if I should go,” she mumbled. His face fell as he watched her walk towards the bed.

“Why not?” he asked barely above a whisper. She pulled her lips together as she kept her gaze on the small blanket in front of her.

“Luke, there’s going to be cameras,” she let out, her voice breaking.

“So?” he pleated, “I want them to meet you! I’m always bragging about my super amazing girlfriend and they keep wanting to meet you!” he expressed, delicately reaching his hand to take a hold of her arm. She pulled her arm away from his grasp.

“And what are they going to think when they look at me?” she countered, turning her gaze to meet his eye. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.

“Why do you care about what they think?” he asked, gesturing behind him. Her lips began to quiver as she tilted her head back.

“Because do you know how much better you could do than me?” she offered, her lips quivering. He shook his head while pursing his lips forward. “You’re a professional athlete, you could easily get some celebrity who’s skinny and pretty-”

“Where’s all of this coming from?” Luke asked, shaking his head. She paused as her mind was racing. “Y/N, since when did you think about stuff like that?”

“I’ve always thought about stuff like that! Every time we take a picture I think about how people will look at it and think, “What’s he doing with that ugly fat ass, he could do so much better.” Fan girls are ruthless, Luke! I don’t want them to look at me and think-”

“I don’t care about what they think!” he shouted back. She rolled her eyes while letting out a huff of air.

“I do!” she yelled back.

“The only two opinions that should matter are mine and yours!” He took a step towards her, looking deeply into her teary eyes. “I look at you and all I see is the most beautiful girl in the world!”

“You know that’s not true,” she let out while shaking her head.

“That’s my opinion! I get to decide who I think is beautiful. I get to decide who I want to love! You have no idea how I see you. You are beautiful and sexy and smart and you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Y/N. That’s the opinion that should matter, not what some fourteen year old girl says in a Tiktok comment,” he explained while scanning her features.

She smiled softly as he spoke. “I love you,” she let out quietly as her voice broke. He smiled softly as he engulfed her in a hug, she blinked harshly as she leaned her head against his chest.

They hugged for a few more seconds before she pulled away, he waited until she was ready to separate. She looked into his eyes before she wiped the small tears that fell on her cheek. Her gaze looked towards the beanie that was too big for his head and a chuckle fell from her lips.

“What?” he asked, chuckling.

“You look like the Cat in the Hat with that,” she let out as she pointed towards the hat. He rolled his eyes playfully as he wrapped his arms around her waist as he rocked her back and forth.

“The what? The what?” he asked teasingly as he swayed them back and forth. A laugh fell from their lips as he slowly pulled away from her. “You ready?” he muttered.

“Let me fix this,” she motioned towards the small smears of mascara beneath her eyes. His mouth fell open shortly before it clammered shut. “I’ll be ready in five minutes,” she mumbled before pressing her lips against his cheek.

“Okay, Darling,” he muttered with a wide smile before he plopped down on the beanbag chair. She stared towards him suspiciously. “I like watching you do your makeup,” he mumbled. She rolled her eyes as she smiled towards him before she sat back down at her vanity.

#nhl #nhl imagines #nj devils #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #Luke hughes imagines #luke hughes fanfic #new jersey devils #new jersey devils x reader #new jersey devils fic #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagines #hockey #hockey x reader #hockey imagines

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ozzgin · 11 months ago

Note

Hello again, are requests still open? If they are, can I request headcanons for Izuku, Shoto, and Tamaki with an artist reader? They stumble upon the reader's book full of art. The book also has drawings of them and the reader together.

Yes! I even have your previous ask halfway written in my drafts, which I might just conveniently incorporate it here haha. I'm just very slow to write everything. I do mark the request section as closed when it's the case., so no worries.

BNHA Characters x Artist! Reader Headcanons

Featuring Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shoto, Amajiki Tamaki and a reader whose doodles are rather obvious in meaning. More fluff!

Midoriya Izuku

Deku is not really one to pry. So it was absolutely not his intention to snoop. He'd just assumed that your notebook has generic scribbles made of class notes, facts and observations, similar to his. He didn't expect to find intricate sketches, and of such quality too!

Really, he's mesmerized. He has an eye for detail and will carefully scan every line and every brush stroke. Is this a portrait of your teacher? Fantastic angle you've chosen! The crosshatching adds a lot of depth. He slowly flips through the pages, wondering why you've never mentioned your hobby. He's even a little dejected, fearing you might not consider him as close a friend.

Then he reaches the doodles of him and you together. Oh. Ooooh. He has to look away for a moment, trying to contain his blush. Well, it certainly makes sense you'd keep it from him. He'd like to return the sketchbook and pretend he never saw anything, but...As much as he doesn't want to embarrass you, he can't get the idea out of his mind. To think you like him, too...Can he really hide how happy that makes him?

Todoroki Shoto

Opening your personal belongings was completely unintentional. Todoroki had accidentally included one of your notebooks among his own and swiftly left for his dorm room. As he clumsily dumped out the contents of his bag, he finally spotted the foreign item sprawled out on his desk.

Drawings? He can't think of anyone in class to ever mention such interest. Then he remembers he sat next to you, so it must be yours. He blushes slightly at the idea. It would be most terrible of him to snoop further, but he can't help his curiosity. He'd love to know more about you and a perfect opportunity is shining brightly before him. Just a quick peek...nothing more.

To think you were this skilled and he never noticed. He stumbles upon a portrait of himself. Unexpected. When did you even have the time to observe him so carefully? His lips purse in embarrassment. By the time he reaches the lovely couple doodles, his ears are bright red. Was his crush that obvious? He can hardly believe the coincidence of you liking him back and expressing it so clearly. Returning the sketchbook will certainly be interesting. It is the duty of a Prince, after all (If he is to refer to your little sketches).

Amajiki Tamaki

Tamaki has noticed how you often sneak away from the crowds and assumed you, too, are struggling with anxiety and awkwardness. Upon further inspection, however, it seems you just enjoy sketching by yourself. He feels a little ridiculous, hiding behind the wall and spying on an innocent hobby like this.

Then again, why the secrecy? He always thought you're good friends, yet you never mentioned anything about it. Combined with the fact you frequently praise him or gaze at him uncomfortably long...Are you planning on pranking him or something? No, no, that's just his paranoia talking. He reassures himself as he holds the little book you conveniently forgot behind. This is the perfect opportunity to prove to himself he's overthinking as usual.

Seeing the doodles of you and him together turns him into a fumbling, red-faced mess. His hands are trembling. The polite thing to do right now would be to close the notebook and promptly return it. Still, he's stuck in place, staring at the pages. Is this a joke? You can't possibly like him back. Someone like him. As much as he denies it, the longing won't leave his flustered heart. A man can dream...

#boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha headcanons #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #shouto todoroki #todoroki x reader #tamaki amajiki #tamaki x reader #amajiki tamaki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #deku x reader

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sweatyracoon · 23 days ago

Text

Mine

A/n: this has been in my drafts for a very long time, and I saw the picture, and felt like taking a bite.

Warnings: suggestive, neck biting, marking, fluff

You sat on the couch next to your boyfriend, scrolling through Instagram, viewing his most recent fancam.

It was a common occurrence to view him online, despite having him in the flesh, but he didn't mind. He found it sweet.

It wasn't often he danced and sung just for you, so this was your way of getting your fill.

He was drifting as the movie dragged on, his eyes closing. He wasn't asleep, just resting while basking in your presence, seeing as he just got back a few days before.

Their world tour took a lot out of him, so he was glad to see that all you wanted from him were cuddles.

You grinned as you watched the man dance, his body rolls maturing into actual rolls. He was always so shy when it came to such a provocative dance, but it seemed he was becoming more comfortable with it.

It made you proud.

You scrolled through the comments, always happy to see the support the fans have for him. He needed it.

He wasn't as confident as he claimed he was, and you knew that these words empowered him, especially when doing shows.

You kept scrolling, smiling brightly. Until that comment. A desperate fan commenting lewd demands and desires, making your stomach twist with jealousy.

Your relationship wasn't a secret among the company, but you weren't public. You didn't mind until moments like these, making you want nothing more than to claim him.

This persons thoughts were displayed in the comments, the words making your head spin.

But he was yours. No one else's.

You couldn't help shoving your phone into the arm of the couch, huffing out as you crossed your arms across your chest.

One of Seungmins eyes opened in question, his Adams apple bobbing from swallowing. It was such a pretty sight.

"You okay?"

You shook your head, coming to straddle his hips, pinning him against the couch, making his eyes widen.

You had never been intimate before, so this was new to you both.

"Y/n?" His voice trembled, searching your eyes with his own, trying to guess at what made you snap.

"What, Min?" You whispered back, bringing your hand up to twist his hair. It was soft.

"What are you doing?"

You avoided his eyes, feeling the jealousy build up again at his question.

"Some of those fans of yours are too much, sometimes..." You mutter, your brows pinching together.

Seungmin realized what you meant, grasping your hips lightly in reassurance. He thought the sudden jealousy was cute.

"You know I'm yours, y/n. You don't have to worry," He gave a pat to your torso, but it did nothing for you.

"Yeah, but they don't know that," You whine, escaping his gaze by nuzzling into his neck. You rubbed your closed lips against his skin, making him shudder.

"Why would they, pup?" He leaned into your touch, loving the attention despite your sour mood.

"Maybe I should show them," You whisper so quiet he could barely hear you, but he did.

His eyes widened.

"What?" Before he could pull you away, you latched onto his sensitive skin, pulling a whimper from him.

You sucked gently before nipping at the skin, leaving a mark from your mouth.

You continued, marking as much skin as you could; his neck, collar bone, his throat.

All the while, his head tilted back, giving into you. Whines and light moans slipping passed his lips, his breathing becoming heavier with the more you moved against him.

Yet neither of you made a move to please each other where you needed it most. You were both satisfied at the moment. All you wanted for now was to show that he was yours, and yours only.

"Your neck is so pretty, Min," you moan against his skin, making him hiss as your teeth grazed his adams apple.

"It's all yours, pup."

His answer pleased you, rewarding him with a kiss, finally pulling back to admire your work.

His face was covered in sweat, his eyes lidded, his mouth swollen from biting them.

His neck was littered with dark spots, all screaming claimed. He looked so innocent despite the sex glaze over his eyes, making you want to coo at him.

"Now they'll know," You say more to yourself than him, but he took it with pleasure.

"I have an idea," He muttered before reaching for his phone.

You questioned him before he opened his camera, pulling you into a sudden kiss, taking a picture. Your eyes widened before he took another with you looking at him, him looking at you, angling it so that the hickeys were on full display.

He moved his fingers quickly across the screen, closing it before nuzzling back into you.

You heard your phone ding, making you unlock it to see your boyfriend had posted on his insta story. Your heart fluttered.

Opening it, you saw the two pictures you had just taken, the caption saying:

Taken. And they are magic~

You smiled, turning to see him grinning like an idiot.

"You're going to get in so much trouble,"

He then quoted you by saying, "At least they'll know."

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alexsoenomel · 8 months ago

Text

Camping Shenanigans

Summary: You like both brothers and you decide to go camping for Sam's birthday.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , implied smut, kissing, fluff

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Not beta read. It has been sitting in my drafts for months. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

"Camping? Are you serious?"

"Yes, Dean, it's my birthday," Sam answered.

"It was my idea," you chimed in as Dean shot you a death stare. "Kinda," You added.

***

It wasn't actually your idea. You just asked Sam a simple question:

“What’s something you always wanted to do but never had a chance to do it?”

He said camping.

"Why do you ask?"

"Your birthday is coming soon!" You told him and stuffed your face with some scrambled eggs you decided to have that morning.

"So?" Sam was a bit confused. He never really cared much about his birthday.

"Let's do something fun for your birthday. Every year is the same; Dean celebrates his birthdays hammered and dodging STDs like bullets, my birthdays are depressing because I'm always broke or sad or both, and yours…it's like you don't have birthdays."

"So,do you wanna go camping for my birthday?"

"Yes! And we can celebrate in nature with lots of alcohol."

"I mean sure, but Dean's gonna –"

"Oh fuck what Dean says he's coming too."

***

"Kinda?!"

"It will be fun Dean, besides spending time in nature will be good for you," Sam said.

"Actually, concerning amount of booze and chicks with daddy issues are the only two things that are good for me, not this!" He still kept protesting.

"You're going, Dean!" Sam told him.

"Fine, but if a snake bites me, I'm shaving your head!"

"Yeah, yeah! Pack a bag, we're going tomorrow morning!"

"TOMORROW MORNING?!" Dean’s voice went an octave higher.

"Yeah, and I'm driving!" Sam smirked.

"Not a chance," Dean simply said before taking a sip of beer.

You and Sam found a wonderful campsite in Greenheart National Park in Wyoming and decided to book it, long before telling Dean. Two nights under the stars in the middle of nowhere sounded wonderful, but Dean still wasn't impressed. Even after telling him, it wasn't a traditional campsite – it had toilets, outdoor showers and all-inclusive breakfast, lunch and dinner – he still wasn't impressed. Dean being Dean - he was protesting and whining, right until you actually sat in his car and he started the engine. He didn't like the idea, but it was Sam's birthday tomorrow and he would go to the ends of the Earth for his little brother.

The drive was long and seemed endless. Between trying to get comfortable, taking a nap, listening to music and eating snacks because of boredom, you couldn’t wait to spend time in nature and watch the stars. Sam was visibly excited, asking Dean every two hours where you were, explaining how to set up a tent, telling fun statistics about bear attacks which made Dean a bit uneasy. Sam’s inner child was slowly healing and yours was just happy to tag along. Dean's on the other hand…his inner child just wanted to get back to bed.

“This is going to be fun!” You laughed. “Dean, get ready to fight bears!”

“Shut your mouth!”

*****

After approximately 13 hours you finally arrived, far away from civilization. Everything was green, the sky was blue and the air was fresh. It was almost 9pm and even though it was May, it was a bit chilly.

"You will all get your tents, feel free to set up anywhere you like, but please don't go far away from the station," The bold man was speaking, aka the owner. He was a middle-aged man, very athletic and taller than Sam. Nice obnoxious smile too. "Dinner is in an hour and if anyone has to shower, showers and toilets are behind the gazebo. We will start the bonfire at 11pm if you wanna join. I'm making some good ol' homemade chips. Hope you enjoy your stay and please if you have any questions, concerns, I'm here."

"He seems nice," You whispered.

"Yeah, and bold," Dean added, clearly trying to sound funny. He tried and failed.

“He might be bold, but next to him you’re just a scrawny little bitch,” you clapped back, hoping it would sting him.

“Ouch!” It did.

Sam laughed.

*****

“So, do you want to share a tent?” You asked the brothers as they shared a look of concern.

“Well…” Sam started, but was unable to finish his thought.

“Mmm..” Dean too.

They didn’t like the idea, so naturally you decided to go with it and ask the owner to give you the biggest tent he could find. “For the three of you?” The guy asked, pointing a finger at Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. You were the last one to get your tent. Some people already found their spot and set up theirs.

“Yes, the biggest one please. I don’t wanna be suffocated by these two.”

The guy chuckled. “Roger that!” He then went into the storage room and started rummaging through his things. After a minute he came back holding a large black bag. “Here you go!” He said and tossed it to Sam. “That will do!” He also gave you three sleeping bags and you were off.

“Thank you so much!” You said.

****

You found your spot far away from people next to a pine tree that was sticking out from the rest of the forest that was behind you. The hill was beautiful, grass perfectly cut, the sky covered in stars like freckles scattered all over, while the air felt colder than an hour ago.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Dean said, trying to see which part of the tent goes where, while you used the flashlight on your phone to guide him.

“Let me!” Sam said and gathered all the poles in one pile. He read a thing or two about different types of tents and recognized you got the one with a porch aka ‘the fancy one’.

“Well happy birthday Sammy!” You told him. “Congratulations on being one year closer to death!”

“Wow (Y/N), you sure know how to make a man feel like crap!” Dean scoffed.

“What’re you talking about Dean? I praise him all the time. Both of you!”

“Yeah, praise my ass!”

“You do have a great ass!” You winked at him. Dean just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms looking offended.

Sam laughed at your joke. “Thank you, but it’s not midnight yet!” ***

An hour later, Sam finally set up the tent and Dean was already on his second beer. This campsite was known for having unlimited amounts of booze and Dean was one happy camper when he found that out. Meanwhile Sam was really proud of himself for setting up his first tent. It was spacious and brand new. When you put the sleeping bags in, you realized you were going to get squished by the brothers. The tent was big, but not big enough.

You liked that idea, considering your long history of liking both of them and not being able to decide. It had been over ten years and you still couldn’t decide. They both had qualities you desired in a man and were special in their own way. Sam’s height and intelligence made you want to climb him like a tree and never get down, while Dean’s perfect smile and snarky humor made you want to make him whimper under you. They were childhood friends and lived across the street, and since your parents liked to hang out you would see them almost every weekend.

Once they moved across the country you still stayed in touch - texted and called every once in a while, but your heart was aching for them. You missed them dearly. It all fell into place once you saw Sam one random Monday morning on campus at Stanford and your shenanigans started again. Dean decided more education was too much for his brain, so he opened a small music store in San Diego and was doing surprisingly well. You started hanging out again, going to pubs, having movie nights, game nights…

You and Sam would also visit Dean and everything seemed to make sense once again. You were like three peas in a pod – same but slightly different.

Over the years you learned how to ignore your feelings and push those thoughts away, and yet sometimes you'd catch your stomach flipping every time they would bring up past relationships or flings. They both didn't want to settle down, and while you liked the idea of it, you were picky and hadn’t found someone who was worthy of you to settle down with.

"Shower and alcohol?" You asked Sam, since Dean had already showered and was now on his third beer.

"Yes please."

Showering in nature was a first for you. You thought you were going to freeze but surprisingly even though you did, it felt amazing on your skin. You enjoyed the wind making you shiver.

“How was it, Sam?” You said, stepping out of the shower in nothing but a towel. Sam actually took the time and got dressed in the wooden shower cabin.

“Cold.” He answered, his voice shivering. His wet hair was slick back, a blue shirt accentuating his muscles, while the gray sweatpants he wore particularly outlined his cock, making it hard to focus.

The things I’d do to that man are ungodly and borderline illegal.

SNAP OUT OF IT!

“And refreshing,” You added.

“You should get dressed before you get sick.”

“Okay, mother!” You rolled your eyes and went back to the tent.

Anything for you, handsome!

***

Dinner was delicious – Dutch oven mac and cheese. Everybody got one big full plate and it was better than you could imagine; very salty and cheesy.

It was nice to sit and look at the bonfire while eating your favorite childhood meal but soon you just wanted to get away from the people and loud noise. You stuck around for a few minutes, watching the fire and chatting with a few nice girls you met while waiting for dinner before your social battery completely died. You excused yourself and left. You weren’t in the mood for small talk anymore – Sam and Dean were a lot better at it than you and they were a lot more social too. You decided to watch from afar and sit on the porch swing that was looking directly at the bonfire surrounded by people having a great time. You were sipping your beer watching the fire go wild as the bold guy threw a few branches, making it stable enough to actually start making his homemade chips in the skillet. You felt like a kid again. The beer was just enough to relax you even though the taste wasn't the best. The stars decided to shine that night, while the crescent moon was too shy to show its whole face.

“Having fun over there?” You heard a familiar voice and saw a shadow of a person approaching you. It was Dean.

“Yeah, just don’t feel like talking to people,” you told him.

He sat down next to you and put his beer bottle next to yours. You exchanged looks in semi- complete darkness and made a toast.

“Cheers!”

“Happy birthday to Sam!” You said, looking at Sam who was talking to a guy much shorter than him.

“I swear it was yesterday he was learning how to walk,” Dean told you.

“You sound like my mother,” You chuckled.

Your mind was getting tired and since the swing was made out of wood, you were struggling to get comfortable. Your head decided to rest on his shoulder as you took a sip of your beer, eyes still on Sam. Your hands wrapped around his arm as you lifted your legs on the swing. His arm was firm and he smelled too good for your own good – something between leather and pines surrounding you. He seemed to be tense though, or at least that was what you thought.

“Dean, I don’t bite, unless you want me to! Relax!”

You couldn’t see but he just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I’m relaxed!”

“Well damn, you have been working out then!” You decided to compliment him. As much as you loved roasting him, making him feel good was also important to you.

“Not so bad for a scrawny little bitch, huh?”

“Shut up!”

***

The night was growing cold and you were getting tired. You didn't know the time, since your phone was back in the tent, but one thing you knew – it was time to go to sleep. The Winchesters were having a great time lingering in the crowd so you decided to leave them to have their fun and go to sleep.

"Guys, I'm gonna go hit the sack!" You shouted from afar, since you saw, they were talking to someone – a man you didn't know and didn't want to know.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?" Sam asked.

"Yeah I'm tired! Good night, guys!"

"Good night!" They said in sync.

You snuggled up in your sleeping bag, shivering from the cold and realized; since you were sleeping on the ground you won't be able to get one hundred percent comfortable so the only logical thing was to take melatonin for sleep. That magic pill could make any surface feel like clouds and on top of that made you actually have nice dreams, since you didn't dream as much.

You took one pill and chugged a good amount of water. You were out in about 45 minutes.

***

Sam's lips were on your neck, kissing, biting, making you shiver; while Dean's lips went lower and lower. You didn't know which name to moan first, hell, you didn't know where you were, but it was blissful and a whole lot of sinful.

Dean's lips reached your panties and before he moved them to the side, he placed a kiss making you squirm. Sam's large hands were playing with your breasts while he couldn't separate his lips from your neck.

As soon as Dean's tongue touched your throbbing clit, you arched your back in pleasure. He was slow, and with the combination of Sam's rough kisses, your body was overwhelmed and feeling nothing but intense pleasure.

"Dean!" You whispered. “Dean!”

"(Y/N)?" Dean mumbled, his eyes half open, even though he couldn't see shit.

"Sam! Fuck!" This time, a whisper, sounding more like a light moan of his brother's name.

"You kiddin'?" He was now fully awake and fully aware you were in fact not trying to wake him up.

"So good!"

"I'll be damned!" He whispered, not really sure what to do. Sam wasn't saying a word so he figured he was in a coma since he had too many beers a few hours ago. You were squished between them but somehow ended up being closer to Dean so he decided to snap you back to reality.

"(Y/N)!" He whispered, this time a little bit louder. "Wake the hell up!" He said, trying to shake you to wake you up.

"Huh, what?" You finally mumbled as he violently pulled you back to reality. It took you a couple of seconds to realize it was, all in fact, just a dream.

"You snore like a buzzsaw!" He lied.

"Oh sorry!"

And without saying anything else, you both went to sleep. It took Dean a couple of minutes though, since he couldn't stop thinking about what he heard.

Dirty girl.

Was the last thing he thought before passing out.

****

The next morning you woke up well rested but in pain. Your body felt stiff until you stretched and actually got out of the tent. It was cold during the night, the air was fresh, but with the first rays of the sun came the heat, and you weren’t awoken by the sound of your alarm, it was the heat and stuffy air. When you looked at your phone, it was almost eight in the morning and time for breakfast. You were alone in the tent, Sam and Dean were already up. You got your toothbrush and toothpaste and went to do your business. You couldn't stop thinking about the damn dream. It was too vivid for your own good. The way Dean kissed you with his perfect full lips, Sam’s hands on your hot skin, their moans, groans and big girthy co-

“Good morning, princess,” you heard Dean say as you waited in line to get your breakfast sandwich, still sleepy. He wasn’t a morning person whatsoever so hearing him sound this jolly was strange.

“Morning,” you didn’t even bother to look at him as you turned around and went to find a place to sit. People were already chatting, having their morning coffees and enjoying the fresh air, while you struggled to exist. It was too early to think, too early to speak and too early to be a human.

Dean followed you after he poured himself another cup of freshly made black coffee.

You lazily opened your sandwich from the wrapper and took a first bite; ham, cheese, ketchup, lettuce…usual stuff. It was a little dry for your taste buds, but it wasn’t bad.

“How did you sleep?” Dean asked, sitting next to you.

“Like a baby,” You mumbled, chewing. You could feel his eyes on you, as you turned to look at him, he was indeed staring back at you with a little smirk on his face. “What?”

“Oh I bet you slept real good,” he teased. His deep and raspy voice was too close to your left ear, sending shivers down your spine, all over your body. You ignored it.

“What are you implying, Winchester?” You asked, genuinely confused, not really thinking about…oh. OH! You remembered. The dream. Maybe he heard you mumbling in your sleep. Do I sleep talk? You still played dumb.

“Dream a little dream of me and Sammy, eh?” His smirk was still there, you knew he wasn’t going to let it go.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You replied. “Where’s Sam?”

“He went Dora the explorer around the park.”

Sam was both night and day. He enjoyed both darkness and light. The darkness was for reading and the light was for hiking and jogging.

After you finished breakfast, you poured yourself a cup of coffee that was now lukewarm. It still tasted like coffee when it touched your lips and still gave you that kick you needed.

Dean was still keeping you company for some reason, he was close, too close and kind of getting on your nerves. You had a feeling he wanted to ask you something but swallowed all the words in the English language. You assumed what he was curious about, you just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. We are our egos after all, and in time we learn how to tame that part of ourselves and not let it control us. You weren’t going to blush and get flustered in front of Dean Winchester.

“What’s the plan for today?” You asked.

“Did you dream about sleeping with me and Sam?” Dean evidently didn’t register your question. And he finally found the words. You choked on your coffee not expecting to be hit with a question. You didn’t expect that kind of question.

“You did!” He said as his face lit up in a second.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

He was a child. A man-child. He wasn’t going to let it go, not until you confessed. Sighing in frustration, you calmly put down your coffee-stained mug and looked him in the eyes. They were beautiful, greener than the forest around you.

“I did,” you confessed.

“Yeah, I know I heard you,” he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. He was beautiful but you still wanted to punch him in the face.

“Can I drink my coffee in peace now, please?”

“Yes, you may, sinner.”

The embarrassment you felt disappeared as soon as you saw Sam coming back from his little, to quote Dean, ‘Dora the Explorer’ adventure, all sweaty and ready for a shower. You weren’t embarrassed, you were horny.

“Morning!”

“Morning Sam!” You spoke.

“Sleep well?”

“Oh yeah, you bet she did!” Dean told him. You rolled your eyes.

Sam gave him a confused look not getting the joke. He doesn’t know.

“Awful, your brother kept making happy noises all night,” you lied. Figured you would get back at him for being a dick. Dean’s mouth slightly opened.

“Dude, gross!” Sam’s reaction was more than welcome considering Dean hadn’t stopped annoying you ever since you had a bite of that dry sandwich. Once he left to shower, you turned to his older brother.

“Don’t fuck with me!”

***

The day was cloudy and cold. Some people were playing board games and listening to music, some were reading their favorite books, while others went to explore the national park. You immersed yourself in the book you were currently reading, while Sam and Dean played Monopoly under the kitchen gazebo that wasn’t just a kitchen, it had a space for everything; space where you could sit and relax, a table, and two couches placed right across each other. A multipurpose gazebo: kitchen, dining room and a living room. Well, Sam was teaching Dean how to play and Dean was losing and cursing every few minutes.

“You were never good with money, Dean!” You chuckled, eyes still on the page you were reading.

“And you’re loud!” He sassed. You lifted your head to look at him and he just gave you a wink. You knew damn well why.

You elected to ignore it.

Soon enough, it was lunch time: delicious goulash and for dessert, a slice of apple pie.

“Warrior food!” Dean said, stuffing his mouth.

He wasn’t wrong. The food was fresh and absolutely delicious.

“Do you guys want to play volleyball after we eat?” Sam asked.

“You’re joking?” Dean lifted his eyebrow. “I don’t do sports and I especially don’t do sports after lunch.”

“Grandpa!” You said and told Sam to count you in.

A few minutes later, the bald, good-looking dude came to say there was going to be another party, from 7pm to when everybody goes to sleep. He also said there was going to be lots and lots of alcohol considering it was a goodbye party. Dean was excited, you were too busy reading your book and Sam finally bankrupted his older brother.

You ended up playing volleyball with Sam for almost two hours. He asked the bald guy if they had any volleyballs after lunch and the guy was more than happy to be of service. There was a small chunk of land which they turned into a volleyball court, far away from people who were hanging out around the gazebo and far away from Dean who decided to take a nap after eating too many slices of pie.

“Are you enjoying your birthday so far, Sammy?” You asked as you served him the ball which, he slammed a little too hard and it flew across your head.

“Oops!” He said with an awkward smile. “Best one so far!”

“Told you!” You raised your voice going a few steps away from the court to get the ball.

As you were playing and growing tired, you couldn't help but notice how tight his black t-shirt was, perfectly hugging his body as he started to sweat. His hair still a little damp, slick back and tucked behind his ears, his lower lip between his teeth trying to concentrate on the ball in the sky – the man was simply gorgeous. It was hard to concentrate on the damn game when your mind wandered.

How does his lips taste? Does he have a big dick? Probably. The man is huge. FOCUS!

So many questions and no wins.

After losing 3:0, you decided to take a shower and get ready for the party. You were in the mood to drink and not get nervous around both brothers.

It was getting cold, so after a quick cold shower, you decided to wear your favorite pair of gray sweats and a very old Led Zeppelin hoodie your dad gave you a long time ago.

People already started drinking by the time you finished getting ready.

"Hey, nice hoodie you got there!" Dean commented as soon as he saw you. One of the things you absolutely adored about Dean was his awesome music taste. You were both old schools.

"You've seen me in this at least a hundred times Dean!" You chuckled.

"And every time I'm going to tell you how awesome it is," he said proudly. "Where's Sam?"

"Showering."

"Again?"

"Yeah, you know Dean, after physical activity you get all sweaty and gross," you told him and took a paper cup filled with red wine from the table under the gazebo. Suddenly, the familiar melody of Toxic by Britney Spears blasted through the speakers.

"It was sweaty and gross alright," Dean joked and like always, you rolled your eyes, and took a sip of the wine. It wasn't too sweet and definitely was cheap considering how watered down it was.

***

After three cups, you grabbed your fourth one as your vision started to blur. Your thoughts were scrambled, between being nervous because of Dean's annoying teasing, and not giving a flying fuck about anything and just wanting to let loose, but there was a sense of tranquility in them. You loved the idea of him knowing your dirty thoughts, and you loved even more watching Sam being simultaneously confused and stunning while listening to you two bicker. The alcohol wasn't helping you. The undying need to be in a delicious Winchester sandwich only grew stronger with each sip…

You saw Sam coming from the toilet after the shower and something in you snapped. You swallowed nervously before chugging the rest of the wine and decided to toss all the fucks you had out the window.

“Hey, handsome!” You said, seeing his face change from content to a little nervous. You'd never called him that.

“Hey!” Was all he could muster.

“In the mood for a drink?”

“Sure,” he said. “But only one, and I'm out. I’m tired.”

“Okie dokie.”

Sam's drink of choice was beer. Dean was somewhere in the crowd, nowhere in your sight. Perfect.

“Cheers!” He said. No matter how big or small his smile was, his dimples would always show on his cheeks and you found it adorable. He was adorable and his lips were much more kissable after almost four cups of wine.

“Cheers,” you smiled back. “To you Sammy!”

“I didn't tell you but you're a solid volleyball player.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A solid player? Really? You won 3:0.”

“Well, yeah because you're short, and for some reason your focus was nonexistent but your serve was excellent.”

“I'm short?” You weren't offended by any means, he was in fact much taller than you, but still surprised he said it so bluntly.

“Short and sweet?” He corrected himself with an awkward smile before taking another sip of his beer.

“Sweeter than sugar, sugar,” you didn't know where that came from. It sounded kind of lame, you thought, so you quickly changed the subject. “And my focus was nonexistent because of your sorry ass.” You said before playfully tapping him on his shoulder.

“Me?”

Something about the innocence of that man made you absolutely feral. You had a feeling he wasn't so innocent behind closed doors. The idea of his lips on yours didn't want to leave your mind as your eyes couldn't stop staring at him with pure, drunken adoration.

“(Y/N)?”

You wanted to speak but something told you to not use a single word of the English language. Instead, you pulled him by his black hoodie and crashed your lips on his. Surprisingly, he didn't pull away, his body was stiff for a few seconds before letting go and deepening the kiss, making you balance yourself on your tiptoes. You felt him cup your left cheek with his free hand as you bit his lower lip, earning a moan from him. His nose crashed against yours, tasting alcohol mainly from your lips, Sam felt his cock getting hard. It hit him that he was wearing gray sweatpants so naturally that was a sign to pull away. People around you were too busy singing ABBA songs to give a fuck.

“Well…” Sam said, not knowing where his thoughts were as he instinctively looked down and saw the outline of his cock. “Crap.”

Your gaze followed and you were happy it did. He was big, bigger than you'd imagined.

"Sammy, is that a gun or you're just happy to see me?” You winked. That was horrible.

“Shut up,” he sassed back, giving you a bitch face he would always give to Dean.

He covered his groin with his hands, looking around awkwardly to see if anyone was looking. Of course they weren't. Everybody was either drunk or high or both.

Suddenly Sam's gaze was fixed behind you as he visibly clenched his jaw. You turned around and of course it was Dean.

“Oh there you are!” You said with enthusiasm and kissed him, pulling him closer by his jacket.

Sam was stunned, while you could feel Dean smiling before kissing you back and letting you put your tongue in his mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and enjoyed the softness of his puffy lips on yours. He was a lot gentler than Sam – more innocence but still the same amount of passion.

When you finally broke away, your drunk self just mumbled, “You two are irresistible.”

Sam was still visibly confused while Dean couldn't stop smiling.

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winterisol · 23 days ago

Text

Once again @ray935sworld has inspired me with her talking abt David Alonso as a child caught in the middle of a rosquez divorce.

So... This little idea has kinda sat in my drafts for a while, and Ray has given me the creative juices to actually yap about this. (its long so I'll put a cut)

So, I'm thinking, Marc and Vale are being their typical flirty selves 2013-2014. I'm thinking after Mugello 2014, Marc is on a high winning that race, while Valentino is enjoying the thrill of Marc winning as well as his half-decent 3rd place. Both of them drink a little too much, and maybe Marc is feeling brave, and drags Valentino to an alley nearby, hoping for a sloppy makeout.

But as they get lost in each other, they suddenly hear a weak cry. Thinking it's some sort of cat, Marc's soft side gets the best of him, and he's immediately investigating the sound. At the far end of the alley he sees a box, and he slowly creeps up to it, only to be greeted with two little kids, huddled together, faces covered with dirt and horribly thin.

I think Kimi has a small piece of paper with him with his name and surname written as well as his birthdate, while with David there is absolutely nothing.

Him and Vale panic, then quickly sober up, gentle speaking with the kids (who are very quiet and scared), and then deciding it would be best to take them to the hospital. They get a hospital, and pray that the kids are fine.

I think Marc gets really attached to these kids from the second he seems them. Maybe its Kimi's curls, or David's blue eyes but he feels like they resemble Vale, or maybe that's just the alcohol and his love sick brain talking.

Anyway, they are soon cleared, being nothing more than dirty and malnourished. The doctors also inform them that the two boys are in fact not related, and Kimi is in their system, but both parents are dead, while the other kid (David) is not in the system and could not tell them a name.

After a few minutes of back and forth with Vale trying to be a voice of reason (shocking I know) Valentino and Marc offer to adopt them. Valentino is Valentino so I'd like to think with some connections and using his name, he's able to expedite the process of adoption and soon both Kimi and David are under their custody.

In my head, Marc is the one to get emotionally attached quickly, being the one to name David, David, and legally giving his mother's last name to David, Marquez Atlena.

It's kinda like a co-parenting situtation legally, but yeah Marc and Vale at this point 100% well past being friends, and clearly fucking (nothing more tho). However, this and the kids are hidden from the media. Often times either being watched by their parents or friends when there is a race weekend.

Kimi falls in love with go-karts while David seems to always watch Marc or Vale at the races. And Marc is their biggest supporter, Valentino as well, but I think he'd be a little bit more protective and worried for the two boys.

Then of course 2015 happens, and the kids are kinda caught in the middle. Both Marc and Vale try hard to shield them from their clearly deteriorating relationship, but once Sepang happens, Marc is so ready to never see Vale again. He wants to take the kids with him, but he's then attacked at his home, and quickly realizes its not safe with him.

Valentino, then realizes he isn't very well equipped to raise two 8 year old boys on his own. He first makes them stay with his mom, who raises eyebrows and isn't happy with Vale, but does it for the sake of David and Kimi. And then with David wanting to pursue a career in Motocycling, Valentino decides its best for David to be in Spain with Marc where there are more opportunities.

Vale becomes kinda distant, half raising Kimi, while barely maintaining a relationship with David after shipping him off to Spain.

This all then jumps to 2026, Kimi Antonelli is fighting for the Championship in F1, while David Alonso is nervous star of the future debuting in MotoGP.

They meet at a sponsorship event and people are quick to notice how close the two boys are. It slips from David's mind that it isn't public knowledge, and he casually mentions they are brothers. The media goes wild, 'cause both of them have never public been with their family (some nasty people calling them orphans because they've never been at a race with their mother or father) and are curious on why they use different last names.

#rosquez #marc marquez #valentino rossi #david alonso #kimi antonelli #david and kimi are children of rosquez divorce #I can just see the vision #Kimi with a monster sponsor on his merc #while David has the same obnoxious redbull logo on his helmet #sol's writing #motogp rpf

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elasticbeach · 5 months ago

Note

Please tell me you are writing a part 3 to the breaking up with Shanks and it ends with a fluffy happy family

Part 3/ Breaking up with Shanks but realizing you still have feelings for him

Yall I didn’t even realise that I haven’t posted this 💀 this has been sitting in my drafts for waay too long, anyways thank you all for all the positive feedback, I feel like this part is written better than the first two. Anyways enjoy reading!

Warnings: None

Part 1/Part 2/ Part 3

You were standing in the kitchen while your little girl was having her usual afternoon nap, you were baking muffins just because, everyone loves muffins right? Actually your nerves were driving you crazy with every passing second and baking seemed to ease your nerves a little. Your mind raced with questions. Will there be a knock on your door? Or will the door be smashed entirely? Will he take your baby away from you? Will he even show up? Did he get scared and just decided to dump you entirely? Too many questions plagued your mind and while you stared outside the window deep in thought a knock brought you back to reality. Your head snapped at the sound of gentle knocks and your heart started racing. Slow steps getting you to the door, standing in front of it you were pretty sure your heart would explode as your heartbeat hammered loudly in your ears. Slowly you opened the door just to reveal the old lady next door. At this point this whole situation slowly started driving you mad. You had never experienced paranoia like this and had no idea how to deal with anxiety like that. After the lady left, you went to check on your daughter. She was peacefully sleeping in her crib, kneeling down next to her you brushed a few of her red locks out of her face. She really went after him, huh? you thought. Life still did not feel real, even when your daughter was born. you still felt like that young girl who just wanted some love and adventure. tears formed at the corners of your eyes, you miss him so much, it hurts.

A few days later you were laying on the beach trying to enjoy some sun while your daughter slept under the small tent you put up. Your mind did clear a bit at the ocean breeze and the warm sun tanning your skin. You almost fell asleep yourself, till you heard it "PIRATES!!" someone screamed in panic. You quickly sat up and looked at the horizont, that’s when you saw it, his ship. The ship you spent years on, before settling down. You quickly put a robe over your body and grabbed your daughter, you didnt even bother standing uo or trying to flee. Just pressing her against you and closing your eyes, anticipating the worst. A few minutes passed, you were too afraid to open your eyes. You heard steps approaching and thats when you opened your eyes. "Long time no see, ____" you sighed to embarrassed to even look his way. You heard him coming closer. "Please dont take her from me.." you whispered in a weak voice. You heard him sit down next to you. "I would never." he said in a serious tone and thats when you finally looked at him. His face carried a frown while his eyes showed sadness. He was hurt you could tell, tears formed once again. "Im so sorry..I really am." You said and sobbed. “Shh” He immediately started calming you down while rubbing your shoulder. You sobbed again before sniffing and calming your nerves a little, you looked at Shanks again. “You’re still just as beautiful.” He said with that smile of his, no mischief or lie in his eyes. It was the first thing he decided to say, nothing about the daughter and not how mad or disappointed he is but this. He called you beautiful, making you tear up again. He chuckled “Stop crying, you always make that funny face when you cry.” That made you chuckle a bit making you sniff and carefully hand him his daughter. Without a word he took the little girl looking at her little face. The little girl was inspecting her father for a few seconds before crying and wiggling, scared of the unfamiliar man. “I’m sorry, should’ve called earlier.” You started as he handed you your daughter with a light smile, as you started rocking the infant you continued to speak “ I was just so scared, I didn’t think it was necessary. No, that’s wrong..I was sceptical if you would even care you know? And it was just nerve wracking, because what if you took her from me??” You started sobbing troughout half of your monologue. “Calm down now you two crybabies.” He interrupted you with a smirk. “How come the two most important women of my life are crying because of me?” He chuckled a bit, again loosening the atmosphere again. “I’m sorry” You repeated, sobbing and wiping your tears with your shoulder, still having your daughter in your arms. Her crying stopped by now and she was inspecting Shanks from a distance now. “It’s okay.” Shanks says smiling at his daughter and then at you. “Must’ve been scary going trough all of this alone?” Shanks asks and you nod. You two spend up to three hours talking about casual stuff, him telling you about the adventures you missed. You telling him everything he missed of his daughters life and said daughter warming up to her daddy enjoying his company.

“I’ll walk you to your home.” Shanks said as you started packing. You didn’t even try to protest, because you know you want him to. You want his affection and attention, want him to stay. Forever. “Thanks” You flash him a smile before laying your daughter in her crib and the two of you start walking. And this image of the two of you, it brings you peace. It feels so normal, so natural. You probably look like a normal family walking back from the beach, everything feels so right, if only it had been like that since the first day. Your thoughts are interrupted by his voice. “So how are we handeling this whole situation?” You shrug, really not having a clue how to answer “I’m definitely not taking the two of you onto the ship, that’s way too dangerous. Just stay here, I will visit from time to time. You should call me more often, I want to hear more about your life. Maybe we aren’t lovers anymore, but we should at least keep in touch, we do have a kid together.” He chuckles after the statement, most definitely hiding how he actually feels, you know him too well to not notice. “Yeah, sounds good.” You reply, because you know that it’s over for the two of you. Even if he still loves you how could he possibly still want to be with you, a liar and coward that doesn’t even know what she wants.

Back home you bathe your daughter together and then you rock her asleep. As you slowly close the door to the nursery and walk to the kitchen he’s already waiting at the door. “Well, I think I will get going for now let’s meet tomorrow again, with the crew as well.” He rubs his neck as he speaks “I thought you were staying dor dinner” your voice getting more quiet troughout your statement. “I can stay??” He seems surprised and happily sits down at the dinnig table. You smile a bit and start preparing something small for the two of you. Dinner is nice, you talk a bit here and there but it’s mostly quiet, not an awkward quiet more of a enjoying each other’s company quiet. You would look up a few times, looking at his strong hands as he cuts the meat or how he licks his lips after each bite. You would lie if you said you didn’t miss the way his hands touched you or the way his lips kissed you and licked-. You stopped yourself right there, these times were long gone. You shoud just stop thinking about him in this way, he’s just the father of your daughter, you ex-boyfriend that YOU broke up with. “You alright?” You look up a bit confused. “You haven’t touched the food in like a minute just staring at it.” He looks at you just as confused. “I was just lost in thought, sorry.” You crack a smile and keep eating. You two finish eating in silence and he helps you clean up after.

“Well, see you tomorrow then?” He says as he steps over the door step. “Yeah.” You look up at him. You two look in each others eyes, seeing the desire, the love for each other. He leans down and presses a quick kiss on your cheeck. “Goodnight” He smiles. “Goodnight.” You smile back and close the door, you lean against the closed door and slide it down smiling like a fool.

The next morning you woke up a bit late. Your daughter was crying all night so you didn’t get all that much sleep. Rubbing your face with cold water you hear a knock. Drying your face and walking over to the door you slowly open expecting Shanks. As he looks upon your figure he immediately notices your tired appearance, while you still wear your Pjs. “You alright?” He asks as he steps inside. “Do I look that bad?” You chuckle a bit closing the door behind him. “No, not really. Just a bit..worn out.” The two of you chuckle. You lead Shanks to his daughter that is still asleep in your bed, since she refused to sleep away from you. “Look at her, didn’t let you sleep all night and now she’s snoozing away.” You smile at his statement, seeing how lovingly he looks at his daughter. “I wish I would’ve seen more of her and you..pregnant.” He looks over at you. You two share neutral expressions as you look at each other, both of you unsure how to handle the situation. You look down at the floor and sigh. “Look, I’m really sorry about everything-“ “Don’t, I understand.” He interrupts you. “No, please let me finish. Just listen to me please.” You sigh again and start talking. “I did NOT know of my pregnancy when I left and that wasn’t the reason I left. I just always dreamed of domestic life, but I also always knew that with you it would be impossible. But I don’t know what’s gotten into me when I left I was I don’t know..” You take a short pause to swallow the lump in your throat. “Maybe it were the pregnancy hormones or whatever but I need you to know that. I still love you and never stopped, I thought it was the better thing for me to leave and try to forget you but how could I? You are the love of my life Shanks. I don’t know if you could ever forgive me for taking your daughter from you, but I just need you to know that I love you. I never stopped loving you.” Tears stain your cheeks by the time you are finished and when you sob and look up you see him standing in front of you. The two of you fall into a long embrace. Hugging each other, with you just crying into his shirt. “Now calm down, I never stopped loving you either.” The two of you keep on hugging. He then pushes you away a bit just to capture your lips in a long kiss. You never felt so much joy in your life as his lips touched yours, everything else didn’t seem important anymore and you just forgot about those months of separation in this moment. You two parted for air and looked into each others eyes when suddenly a crying noise from your daughter captures your attention. “I will take care of her in the living room, get some sleep.” He smiled and wiped some of your tears. “I love you Shanks.” “I love you too.”

Repost are appreciated <3

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #shanks #shanks x reader #akagami no shanks #red haired shanks x you #shanks x you #red haired shanks x reader #op shanks #red haired shanks #shanks one piece #x reader #x y/n #one piece fluff

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mishaandthebrits · 2 years ago

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The best things in life are better with you - (Pierre Gasly x Reader) ⭐️

This has been in my drafts forever and I just found it again 😅 so please enjoy 😂🙈

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x Reader

Word Count: 941

Summary: Pierre and you have a little secret.

Warnings: Teeth rotting fluff, Cute Pierre, might make you feel incredibly lonely

Pierre and you went way back. Your mothers had been friends, so the two of you grew up best friends as well. It was quite usual to find one in the others house when you grew up and even now it was unusual for you two to be far from each other. Well, unless he was in the car of course.

"I'm back.", you heard Pierre speak as he entered the room of his driver room after the media duties of the day. With a smile you locked your iPad and looked up at him.

"How was it? Did they have rumors again?", you laughed referring to the enormous amount of times the press had speculated that the both of you were in an intimate relationship.

"None this time.", he chuckled and sat down on his bed. "What're you watching? Please tell me its not that weird crime show again..."

"Excuse you?! Criminal Minds is a wonderful show and Dr. Spencer Reid is really hot!", you gasped jokingly. This was a recurring topic for you two, he jokingly bullied you for your taste in television shows and you returned the favor with his hobbies.

He rolled his eyes but had a grin on his face still. "Have you done anything nice today?", he then questioned kicking his feet up to get a little more relaxed after standing around for long doing interviews.

"Not really. Edited a few photos, scheduled some posts, replied to comments, you know, the usual.", you shrugged and got up to sit beside him. "Oh! I did read a new joke! What lies on the bottom of the ocean and twitches?"

"I don't know Y/N, but I'm sure you will tell me soon.", your best friend tilted his head watching you.

"A nervous wreck.", you replied with a giggle. It took a moment but Pierre did grin after a bit.

"Where do you always find those?", he laughed and shook his head.

"Online.", you grinned and pulled on his shoulder so his head landed in your lap. Raising your hands you started gently playing with his hair. You knew he loved that and it always helped him calm down.

"You really have to sleep more.", you mumbled and shook your head.

"I know I know... But you know I always sleep better with you beside me.", Pierre whispered back and looked at you out of the corner of his eyes.

"Text me then, I'll come over! You know, for purely selfish reasons... After all I don't want your mum to hate me if you have an accident because you're too tired.", you smiled and kept stroking his hair.

"Of course, we do wanna keep my mum happy.", he smiled knowing you way too well to believe your reasoning.

Ever since you were teenagers both of your mums hoped you would end up as a couple and well, it slowly did start to look that way.

"They tease me, you know? Daniel, Lando, even Lewis.", Pierre whispered after a while. You had actually thought he was asleep, but apparently he still had something on his chest.

"About what?", you frowned after he didn't continue speaking.

"You.", he laughed quietly confusing you even more. "You and me to be exact. They think we should be together by now and I obviously didn't tell them the truth. They would never let us hear the end of it."

"Do you think so? I think they would be happy for you. For us. Plus, I really just want to hold your hand and kiss you when we are around our friends.", you smiled softly making him look at you wide eyed. So far it had always been you that was against telling everyone of your friends, excluding Charles. Both of you just couldn't hide anything from him.

"Are you sure?", he asked with a small smile that widened further once he saw your nod.

"If you want, I'm ready to share us with the world. I love you and I know you love me too, so whenever you are ready.", you explained and gave him a gentle kiss.

"Do you think our mums will hate us if I post yesterdays photo on Instagram and don't tell them first?", he chuckled pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"I don't think so. I'm pretty certain they've known for months.", you laughed and kept stroking his hair while he typed on his phone.

Liked by y/n_dubois and 287.409 others

pierregasly: Two years, five months and 27 days. Not like I'm counting. I love you y/n_dubois

y/n_dubois: I love you so much mon amour <3

danielricciardo: I KNEW IT! HA! FINALLY!

-> landonorris: Mate! Read the caption!

-> danielricciardo: WAIT! What the hell?! You fooled us!

yukitsunoda0511: Couple goals! All the best for you two!

-> y/n_dubois: Thank you Yukino <3

-> yukitsunoda0511: You spend too much time with him.

charlesleclerc: My ship has sailed! pierregasly y/n_dubois

lewishamilton: Aww! All the best for you both! You are so cute together!

pyry.salmela: Congrats! This is no excuse to miss training though.

and 598 other comments

"Okay yeah, from the comments they are absolutely not going to let us see the end of this.", you chuckled while he still laid there with his head on your legs.

"Probably not, but at least we can show everyone how happy we are now.", Pierre smiled and gave you a soft kiss when the both of you heard a knock on the door. "Come in."

"Hey you two lovebirds.", Charles spoke as he entered the room with a grin and sat down on one of the chairs. "So, finally public hm?"

"I guess so.", Pierre laughed without sitting up and looked at his best friend.

"Charlotte was really excited when she saw the post.", Charles smiled and pulled his phone out of his pocket to show you the messages she had sent him earlier.

"Awww, this is so cute! You two really are our number one supporters.", you giggled after reading the texts and handed the phone back. "Should I also post something? What do you think?"

"That would be so cute ma petit fleur.", Pierre smiled only to hear Charles fake throw up besides the both of you.

"Disgusting.", he laughed only for you and Pierre to join right away.

Liked by pierregasly and 4.731 others

y/n_dubois: You are the people that have made me who I am today. The best things in life are better with you by my side. pierregasly Charles_leclerc charlottesiine

danielricciardo: I don't know which post is cuter. Your's or pierres

landonorris: How the heck were you able to hide this for so long when you are this cute?!

->y/n_dubois: Crazy right? I wonder myself honestly

charles_leclerc: disgusting.

->charlottesiine: 😂

->y/n_dubois: 😂

-> pierregasly: We love you too mate

lewishamilton: You two are really sweet together. Cant wait to see you more often!

#f1 imagines #f1 imagine #pierregasly #pierre gasly #GAS10 #pierre gasly x reader #pierre x reader #x reader #f1 imagine x reader #fluff #fluffy #fluffy imagine #fluff x reader #x reader fluff #pierre gasly fluff #social media imagine #social media imagines #f1 social media

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haztory · 1 year ago

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sorry for being absent literally always, but i had to get this out of my drafts.

goddess!reader x mortal!bakugou; warnings: blood, mentions of sex, murder, unhappy relationships, unhinged reader and bakugou (tiny bit), not beta’d

(w.c. 2.1k)

Rapacious, your father would call you were he to see you now. Salacious, acting in behavior once thought deterred; The kind that he meant to have stamped out of you in an effort to cultivate you into the pious cog in of his senseless grandeur. His promise of destiny.

Your father’s lips would be turned in that virtuous frown, eyes narrowed as he sat from his throne in the great pantheon of Gods. Validated by their fealty. The model figure that is woefully negligent as he speaks of the sanctity of commandments that have seen his betrayal one too many times before. Sanctimonious in his rectitude, righteous in his hypocrisy, your father is.

He meant to cage you, raging at your freedom and its significance—angry that you were wild, changing the tides of human wars with the gentlest of smiles and lulling whispers; Rampaging that fellow Gods, his own brothers, were victim to the whims of your games with the mortals; Furious that the power you wielded began to rival that of his own; Murderous that you were too much like him: untamed, greedy, victorious and still, adored.

You have never known his anger to be long-lasting, especially not in a manner of great meaning when you could falsely promise your way out of it. Batting eyelashes in truce—but, this is beyond punishment for the defiance of a rule. He means to break you.

A husband.

One bound to you without your consultation, much less knowledge. Promised in hand and divinity to be half of a whole to this pitiful excuse of God.

There was hardly an expectation of satisfaction within the marriage on a good day, much less pleasure in the ways that physically mattered; Could such a thing ever truly be expected from a man who only knew how to hammer metal? Up, down, up, down until the glowing steel was forged.

Your husband is a man of great fortitude, who knows and will only know that of the fire he works with. The flames reflected in the dullness of his irises being the only exciting thing about him. He is monotonous within his construction. Routined and boring.

How could there ever be the expectation of fidelity from you, the Goddess of Love?

How could you be shackled to the bedside of a man who has never known the strength of the sea from which you are born? How can you love a man who does not know the impact of the tide and draws no desire from its power? How can you be with a man who does not know and adore you as you are? For a millenia, nonetheless!

You've come to know of this arrangement as a curse; A woeful attempt to tame you from the wild and lustful by forcing you to make acquaintance with the bland and boring. Binding you to the shore, never to make acquaintance with the push and pull of the forceful nature.

Credit must be paid your way. You had tried. In the depths of shame and sorrow, you tried to do as your brothers and sisters and settle. Gave in and let yourself believe that love and happiness could be found within routine, eventually. It is your novelty, after all. And yet, it still finds you. This yearning for more, the urge to love and be loved. Your nature still rises from the swaying tide and dares to edge the coast.

Your father would not approve were he to see you now, watching from your high plane in the heavens to the happenings of the mortal world. Surely, your husband would violently disapprove too, convinced that he has you loyal.

You shouldn’t fixate; Had promised in low lights and empty words in your husband’s grimy embrace that you have seen the errors of your ways; That you have and will change. For his sake. But he does not know what happens when he is away in his cave of brimstone.

Your attention is caught. And the object of your fascination is a marvel.

Sculpted from clay himself, you have half a mind to believe that one of your siblings has had a part in his creation. Broad and muscular, sharp and angular in all the places that deem him a man. This mortal has caught your eye since his ascension from boy to man. He is a village soldier. Fiercely protective and eager for a fight, and yet always looking to the heavens. As though there was something there waiting for him, beckoning him closer. You suppose he isn’t wrong, as you peer down to him just as he looks up.

There have been whispers of his fate amongst the crowds since he was a boy, certainty issued in his great destiny. No one is more sure of it than he.

Which may be what finds him in your temple.

Sanctuaries have never known themselves to be exclusive, but you must admit that it is certainly strange to have a man of his designation pray to the Goddess of Love. Surely he must have found some alignment more towards that of your stoic sister, emboldened by the desire for courage and brawn. And yet he is here, treading the halls in the stillness of night and giving small offerings to each of your priestesses and holding one large offering basket for your statue.

He stands beneath the colonnade, staring pensively at the intricate designs of your image on marble. He speaks only when the room has been cleared, the priestesses giving him the space to pray in solace.

“I hear you.” His timbre is gruff yet smooth. Commanding as it echoes. “You are calling to me.”

You remain still, almost taken aback at his forwardness. The waves of temptation creep at your feet.

“I intend to find you, whether you show yourself or not.” He speaks again. He looks up, and although you know it improbable, you swear eyes of vermillion have pinpointed your location in the sky. And so, it comes crashing.

It has been so long since you have last appeared before a mortal, and appearing before him transcends all relatability. To see the fixation, your desire, and to have him see you. If he is surprised by your arrival, he doesn’t show it. Eyes strong in their stoic gaze, lips almost curled in a sneer. One would think you were his enemy, but you know such a charge to be false. It’s a charge of electricity, the cooling nighttime air suddenly warming at the meeting of your gaze.

He is no enemy to you, and you are certainly no stranger to him.

“No one has ever commanded me so directly. How did you know?” You ask. of genuine curiosity.

“I dream of you.” He says the answer so plainly, as though it were a common occurrence. You can’t help but raise a brow.

“Oh?”

“I have for years. It was only a matter of time before you showed yourself.”

The chains forged by your husband suddenly feel the lightest that they have ever felt. Metal rattling against each other, pushing and pulling as something brews within you. You wonder what this mortal thinks of you. If he finds you as beautiful as you find him; If the power within him is as strong as you think it is.

If he is strong enough to cut through steel.

“And what did you dream of?” You ask, taking a step forward. Feeling elation fill you like the swirling breeze as his eyes quickly watch you step forward.

“Tch. Like you don’t know.” His jaw flexes and with it comes the bloom of a subtle blush on his cheeks. “Didn’t you plant the damn things?”

No, you didn’t. You could certainly look to see what it is he dreamed of, but this is more fun. Finally, finally, you feel the remnants of yourself pulse alive.

“Have you come to give me a greater purpose?” He asks quickly, in diversion. You let him, too satisfied with the newfound freedom to care much about his attempt at modesty.

You step closer to him, watching as his eyes cascade down the sheer chiton adorning your body. “Is that what I did in your dreams? Fill you with purpose?”

You find yourself almost chest to chest with him, his eyes never leaving yours, “Or did you fill me?”

You laugh when his eyes widen, turning to take a chocolate from the offering basket held still in his hands and plopping it into your mouth. Marveling at its taste, deciding that it must be homemade. “Is that what you are in search for? A greater purpose? How about a culinary artist? Your skills are impeccable.”

He doesn’t laugh. “I am destined for more.”

He knows he is. You know he is. Have not eyed him for so long to have not known. He stands firm before you, a soldier waiting for instruction. In any other instance you would rebuke such a stand, revolt at the rigid and serious, and yet with him—

Well, in devotion to you, who can fault you for testing its limits? Especially when there is something that has sat within you, waiting for the opportune moment.

You meet his gaze, deciding to no longer tease. “How much more?”

“Anything you will give me.” He quickly responds.

“And this destiny you seek, do you do it for pride or service?”

“I am your loyal follower and patron, Goddess Divine. What I do is for you.”

“A man like you, patron to me. How lucky am I?” You smile, but it is quickly assumed by the sneaking tendrils of your dark desire. Your voice stills, “The task I have for you is very arduous. Unyielding, difficult, and not aimed for the weak. Destiny setting, to be sure.”

The man seems to preen at those words, a smile finally finding its way to his face. It curls, dangerously, hungrily. “Name it.”

“Once it is spoken, it cannot be undone.” You warn.

“The task is mine alone.” He insists.

You find yourself before him again, and he leans in to listen closely. You can sense the fight in him, smell his musk. The promised freedom teeters on the edge of your words.

“...kill Hephaestus. Free me from the shackles of my constricting punishment.”

He doesn’t blink, doesn’t balk, doesn’t shy away from the treasonous words. He does as you have seen him do and stands firm, almost vibrates with his desire to act.

You can almost feel the brush of the sea on your skin again.

“And my reward?” He asks, confidently.

“Is my eternal patronage and favor not enough?” You laugh, eased in his presence rather than tight at the admittance of your evil. Circling around him, you drag your finger across the broadness of his bare and unmarred shoulders. You wonder if the purity of his skin is a reflection of his valiance. Wonder if your desires are steered correctly, that he is the one to have the strength to carry him to victory.

He glances to you over his shoulder, “Surely, the Goddess has more in plan for the man set to kill her husband than bragging rights?”

Curiosity clouded with the tendrils of lust at the man who holds your fate in his hands, you place your chin on his shoulder, meeting his vermillion gaze as your nose scarcely brushes the smooth expanse of his sculptured chin. Intimacy with a man who isn’t your husband, intimacy that is natural and wanted rather than forced.

“Cheeky.” You murmur, and his grin widens. A veil of clouded air blurs his vision before you reappear in front of him, your weight placed onto him as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Bring me the head of my oppressor,” You begin, said so airily it could be mistaken as a light conversation rather than a plot for murder, “And I will make you a God in his place. Meant to enact your own destiny, made to rule beside me.”

You lean your forehead closer, meeting him as your noses brush in meeting. Tracing one another, you whisper, “Can you do it?”

Without hesitation, he breathes into you. “I am yours, Goddess Divine.”

“And your name, O Great Warrior?”

“Bakugou.” A storm brews mightily in his irises and you can taste the salt of the spray, feel the ocean beckoning you home.

Your release from the cage is so close to the touch, the hilt of the sword dealing the victory blow to your freedom held by him.

You smile, wide, and true, and lustful for blood. “A fitting name for a God.”

It comes as no great surprise when the mortal appears at your temple a few weeks later. He is limping through marbled halls and dripping with blood, the key to your cage held in his hands. Your husband's severed head held by his bloodied and mangled fingers, a wicked smile on his face as he beckons you down from the heavens. You find yourself once again, marveling.

And finally, in love.

#im in love with two people being crazy together #love a woman who leads and her man who's her sword #also worth noting when you bring bakugou up to the heavens and declare him god AND husband your father zeus has an aneurysm #you fuck on the throne #let it also be known that katsuki is literally devoted to you bc his PARENTS were devoted to you #his father prayed to you for prosperity as he was trying to swoon a girl he liked #you listened and granted masaru a beautiful wife named mitsuki and now he is eternally devoted #and so is katsuki #yeah he could be patron to athena but his dad likes you so he will too and BOY was daddy right #the end #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha #katsuki x reader #am i back? not really #irda drabbles

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mononijikayu · 11 months ago

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to build a home ━ geto suguru ft nanami kento.

That was the end of it. They can't take much more of this pain. Suffering for a goodbye that would never be repeated. This cannot be true. They reflected to themselves. You also have a life. A different way of living. It's unjust to Kento, to blame him for their loneliness, their suffering. It's unjust to them, it's unjust to Suguru. They must make the first step. To make it final. To let him go for good. This is what saves them, this is what graces them in front of god.

note: i found an old draft of something i did and i thought it would be perfect for an angsty suguru writing, especially after rewatching fleabag. i started to joke yesterday that i'll do a suguru partner to 'time after time' and here we are now, me crying over what i made.

the final scene is inspired by the ending of fleabag. i cried through it but it really was something that triggered my heart strings. every good love story deserves a good closure when it ends. happy christmas again!!! let's hope this is my last idea in a while!!! its starting to make me cry too <333

Genre: No Curses AU, Priest Suguru AU, Fleabag AU;

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, First Love, Grief, First Heartbreak, Break Up, Emotional Scars, Forbidden Love, Star Crossed Lovers, Closure to Healing;

masterlist

play: to build a home by cinematic orchestra.

THEY DOESN’T KNOW WHY THEY WERE HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. The mass of such a dull cup was ultimately the most significant in that moment, reminding her of the heaviness that pounded through her shoulders. While they drank, their bright eyes shot into the already icy black pools. They could feel it, the way their pulse thumping with the power only felt when a hammer slams on an anvil.

A drop of black coffee shouldn't be pouring on the surface of that gleaming white envelope, their familiar seal on the edge. Like it used to when they were younger. Their pupils constricted as the cup clicked on the surface of the little chilly plate. The question resurfaced in their mind as if it had not already been blatantly obvious to themselves.

‘Why am I so scared?’ The words echoed in their head, silently. ‘What does it matter if it spills or not? It’s just an envelope.’

Though that wasn't just any ordinary envelope. They pursued their lips as the truth revealed everything without care for a wait. They felt another flurry of child-like recklessness within them once again. For a brief moment, their warm gaze was visible. The lost purity of their youth, which they had thought to have lost long ago, had reappeared. They sighed, unsure of what to do.

The icy loneliness of the envelope's borders, as it sat calmly discarded not far away from them, made it impossible to convey to them. The soft whisper of darkened skies made it impossible to tell if it was morning. Yet within their memories, the brightness of the morning dawn has always resonated with a pleasant unattainable radiance. They couldn't sleep again today. That day kept returning to the young soul. They felt as though it was akin to another grievous reminder of those warm-hearted charcoal eyes they had once loved.

They lowered their head, almost ashamed. All they could feel inside of them was that searing anguish filling their heart with nothing but agony. There was no peace in the confines of their heart. There is no peace on those nights, even if the moon sings pleasant things to soothe her to sleep. They knew that there was nothing but horrors. He visited their dreams almost every night.

He smiled so beautifully against the shine of the moon. Like that summer night where they first kissed. They were letting all the memories they had buried haunt them. These nightmares always comprised the sweetest smiles and bitter goodbyes. The cozy bed had somehow become an opponent. It seemed as though they were wallowing in a terrible abyss of quicksand in the luxuries of their cold feather bed, with no way out. It didn't help to stay unmoving, alone in this unmade bed, staring up at the plain white ceiling.

They had loved Kento enough; They truly did. But he wasn't home, he wasn't there to fill that space. To replace that emptiness, to make a home out of the numb loneliness. he was a merchant by trade. The nomad who ceaselessly took the opportunity that life had to offer. Yet he too was a serious man who took his responsibilities to the people he loved seriously as long as he could. Yet Kento was someone who had no permanence in the warmth of home.

When he was home, it was something that still showed the gaps, the distance that had come with their degree of separation. Their little arrangement, their little life together, had once been beautiful at one point. But now all it does is make them lonely, now it makes them infuriated. Yet there was no one left to blame.

What was there to be angry about? He needed to keep what life being lived going, much of that relied on him. There was little to complain about, when they agreed about it before they had decided to become one. After all, these years had been lived in a garden of thorns. Nothing was easy.

They should be thankful he had worked at all. Others have had a harder time than them, losing homes and the meal on the dinner table. Yet in Kento’s absence, their gaping heart was filled with those bright beaming memories of their first love. Everything about those memories were painted in vibrant pastels. Everything was so bright and new.

He smiled at them, rushing toward them direction as his dark locks spun across the pillows like a constellation weaving through the wide open sky. On those lonely nights, they did not want to think of him as much as they did. But one never forgets that long lost love. In those nights, they could not admit to anything but anguish and pointing fingers, blaming Kento for not being by their side. They wanted to blame him. It was easier that way, blaming the man they had committed to life with.

Because they cannot stop thinking of his eyes that narrowed down at them tenderly. They couldn't get those memories out of their head, their mind craved everything about that charming man who had captured this wanting heart all those years ago. They had created quite a world, nay a universe, just for him.

Everything within that universe was devoted to cherishing, worshiping memories of that man already dried in the inked pages. But they could not help it. Geto Suguru was too hard to forget, too hard to bury in the past. When you fall in love the first time, nothing ever comes close. Nothing ever comes to be beyond the world that had embraced them for years and years.

How much they had remembered all those years of being in his strong, warm arms. The repeatedly lonesome bed trapped and bound their body and soul to the seclusion of the darkness. Their feet were firmly planted on the floor, their body towering over the diner. Arms resting upon their chest, the echoes of their heart beat unlike any other. They knew that they had no feeling of coherence. Nothing felt real, nothing felt true. Everything had been a blur—a never-ending darkness that had cleared them completely, leaving nothing but a void.

They recalled the way they had carelessly bruised themselves when they had awoken from another nightmare. Mindlessly, They walked in the dark narrow halls as quietly as they could. They did not wish to wake Kento’s father from his slumber, not when he was ill. Their hands had been weak as they stumbled into the kitchen to get the warm water pitcher. There were no tears streaming from their weary eyes.

There was no sound from their lips, and no effort had been taken to prevent the spreading of shattered glass. They simply stared. They had no sense of sanity. There is no reality meter to gauge their consciousness. Simply as motionless as the fruit resting on the marble counter. They watched as the overflowing water pooled through the broken whole like a deluge had challenged the pieces of glass across the floor.

"Why am I doing this?" Their thin crimson lips let out a quiet whimper as they bowed their fatigued head in the heavenly air. Their brilliantly bright bonnet trailed behind them, shielding their eyes. "There's nothing else to say. I said that last time.....He was the one that said goodbye. I've been doing so great. And now….."

Yet somehow, They couldn't tear their attention away from the envelope, that begged bare fingertips for their warmth to give life to the inanimate pages of living, haunting love. To whisper those same words of affection that they had abandoned years ago, to match the fondness of the words within its frames. Their index finger marched forward, unafraid. The brightness of the platinum band on their ring finger reprimanded them in a scolding glow at that time.

They hesitated once more, their heart beating harshly against the flesh of their body. The reign of fears killed the resolute strength within them. They bite tenderly at their lower lip in anxious softness. They had made their peace with everything a long time ago, at least that is what they said. So there was no reason to be misled, to be misled by feelings settled in the corner of the mind’s palace. The shadows of their face reverberate like a ghost that begs to be finally laid to rest as the light weakly glows.

Yet, just like a wandering phantom wishing for relief, They realize that this was heaven’s bestowed fate. To be bound to the barren earth with the haunting memories of the life that had been lived like a gramaphone on repeat. To travel through the life they may have had, to torment her like her into a never-ending misery-like haunting bestiality. A never-ending hell that never ends.

Moving steadily, They held her hands into a chain, They felt the unending chill that only winter could provide. Is this how it has been for all this time since they split up? Have they truly been this miserable? Have they truly abandoned themselves to the abyss of grief, of longing? Of yearning for something that will never return?

The spring they had loved has yielded to winter, its vivacity has long since faded. They knew that too well. But they could not help but return to spring in long locked away memories. That spring was where they can admit they had been the happiest. The truest to themselves. Because he was there.

It was because Geto Suguru had been the melody of that song through the truth of the heart. Suguru's youth belonged to them. As much as they knew that their own youth belonged to him. That spring was for the two of them to own, only theirs and no one else’s. Greedily, that’s what they believed.

Those blooming flowers formed their gentle smile and made their heart pulse with the thrill that came with young love. It was the way he laughed so boyishly as he raced the length of the flower fields. Their eager gaze followed him, the wind eager to dance across those flower fields. The crinkle of mischief drifts through the sky to mingle with the beam of rainbow lights.

The lark eyed young man looked at them as though it was like sunflower beams. The loving words seemingly flowed out like lovely echoes of hummingbird melodies. There had been the sweet touch of hands wrapped around them with such happiness, the delight of being together as the sound of the river's quiet whistles.

It all came flooding home, that mellow breeze that led their love, in each and every moment they traveled the paths they had taken, arms locked together. Nobody had an inkling. Not even their parents. The spring dalliance, that became so much bigger of a world than anything else, was all their own.

It had been the perfect love, belonging to the two of them. The only one they had told had been their uncle Yaga. He took pity on a broken soul, they knew. Those eyes filled with such wrestling grief. That conflict, that wanting, that yearning. He knew it too well. It was his kindness that allowed her to escape Tokyo after Suguru parted from them, to save her from growing mad.

Away from those dark eyes that continued to watch over them in the distance. Those lark bright that only mourned him just as much as they did. There was an echo in their soul which reached out to him, spoke in such a terrible voice; a voice they didn't even remember having. It had been so loud and angry. Yet Suguru merely smiled at them, ever so mournful as theirs was.

'I mourn the person we once were,” He whispered to them in the tender gaze of the altar, looking at them as their voice echoed in the basilica's bright glass windows. “Such brilliant splendor that’s long past us now, my love.”

They could not help but feel melancholy about remembering the spring. They had come to hate it, even Kento just knew. Barely leaving their studio, abandoning the sight of warm blossoms of roses across the neighbor's front lawn. They decided to have to care for it any longer. It was too fleeting. Too young, too eager. Things that they were no longer. Spring provides us with a small sliver of careless youth.

The flowers in that spring bloomed, as did the love they both thought was impossible. However, spring must always give way to the beginning of fall. It was now October, and the hardest rain was anxiously awaiting freezing into the hammering winter cold. One in which They had come to be caged in. Like dragons of old who lived in caves in the abandon of endless silence. Alone to dwell on what was and what could have been in the present, which only deepens their agony.

It was the most heartbreaking moment of their existence. To watch the etches of their fair face contort to grief, to fear and to tears. The tears they had wished they had never come to shed. Suguru had been the one to tell them, to relay those words that ripped them apart like a harsh ocean wave rushing through.

The words of their father, the words of a man who used the woman he said he loved like a chess piece. To further his rise to the top of politics. They had been young then, when their father had bragged of doing such a thing. Of hurting their mother like it was a holy act in the eyes of god.

When Suguru informed them that he cannot be with them any longer, they were taken back to that memory of their father. That heartache that shattered the dreams of a child. Nothing was absolute in the world, not even love. Not the way they had wanted. Not the way Suguru desired. It was to be a sin, a sin that would go against the word of the holy book he considered ever so sacred.

It was Suguru’s path, he told them so clearly, hammered with familiar hurt—one that reminded them of their own grief. The two of them sat on the bed they used to sleep in together, the sunshine dulled by the venomous dark clouds which had gathered to see such a scene. But they remembered the distance that had formed in the sky. They remembered how warmly the tears of parting fell, one after another like the pouring rain. The warmth of the pillows grew cold with the solemn shadow of their own body.

As they sat there immobilized, their eyes began to echo bloodshot red. Their habitually loud voice was hushed into soundless sobs for a short time — they had no words to say. All that passed through their mind couldn't seem to understand, to register this new reality that was now happening. It hadn't occurred to them how everything had morphed towards something they didn't wish to be a part of. A life they did not want to change forever. It was worse to wait, to watch for him to turn to them and be reminded that they could not be together any longer.

It felt like they were walking towards their shallow grave. They could not do it, couldn’t deal with it any longer. He did not want to be miserable, as much as they didn’t. Being together until that moment felt like a dream, and now it is a nightmare. Yet remembering, repeating those phrases, those words, felt like they burned in flames. They felt like they burned every inch of their flesh into ash. It was the feeling of being poured into a wild sea to be swallowed by an agitated wave , to drown in everything. Suguru whispered those words in the past tense, tears pouring from his eyes.

Those words they hated, over and over. The value of those whispers of ‘i love you’ in repeated order, followed by buts and excuses, by deviation, by cancellation, by subtraction. They etched in these fragile veins and poisoned them to death. It was a curse, to love. And yet it continued, as easily as breathing. Those words had made a fool of them, laughing at them. And They would never be the same again. There was nothing left for fools. Nothing.

“But you love god.” They whispered back, brows furrowing into sorrow. “More than you love me.”

“I’m sorry.” He kissed the top of their hair, smiling ever so apologetically. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

Suguru had left that flat the next day, a letter left on the counter along with the keys. The nooks and corners empty, from where he hid his variety of morning tea to the little books he would read as the sun would rise to greet them. They stood frozen, staring at what had remained. The flat was cold, so dreadfully cold. They just stared, with their eyes burning in pain and crimson shine from the tears that would not stop pouring. They did not take it well.

They'd flung aside the blankets that had filled with muted tones of their disheveled look, scrambling across their face like a hurricane. They didn't want to think about it. They didn’t want to be reminded of it. Yet all there was left was reminders. Nothing but ruins in the once great space that was their own. That life no longer materialized into being, not here. As lonely as the dead trees, stripped of the foliage that once decorated their twigs. Life cannot exist where there is no sun, life cannot exist without the warmth of water, nor can it exist without the oxygen in their lungs. There was none here. Nothing was here, other than barren life.

Moving into a modest shack of an apartment in the far out districts of Tokyo, nearer to the other prefectures than anything else. Uncle Yaga was the one that had suggested it to them, as it had been far enough from the capital. It was a new perspective, a new sign of life — one that could perhaps heal them. He told them that he had once sought refuge in the far flung district’s vibrant feel, having departed himself once more in his nomadic pleasures. They had been blessed by his suggestion.

The bright street lamps comforted them at night. The sight of morning air that came through had been a gentle kiss on their welcoming of that first lonely sunrise. There was a buzz of excitement that filled them as they watched different people stroll the streets every day, suitcases in hand and speaking different tongues. They all were hoping, gathering their strength to start a new life, just as they had. In a manner, they were maintained by this encounter every day. In a sense, it made them feel like they weren't the only one going towards a new chapter in life. They were not alone for the first time in a long time.

Though uncle Yaga sent money regularly, they too were able to find some work. It had helped them somewhat, the world still reeling from the financial disaster that had recently plagued the nation. They have been able to save enough money recently. And in those times, they had come to be interested in pottery. They seem to notice the solace of it, having watched some locals make clay pots for their meals and as gifts. Soon enough, they wanted to try it all out. They had been eager to find the materials.

But they did not know where to start, unable to find the ones that they liked enough to suit the ideas They had in their head to come to life. A small sigh passes their lips. They had the confidence to think that learning would be easy, but it had not been. But They had been glad to have this moment to start something new. A new hobby meant a new life. And a new life meant moving forward. Life finally goes on.

On that cold winter morning in January, they met an old man who had come from central Tokyo only a few months before. He had moved to the city a while ago, he said. To be closer to his son who had become his carer. Having suffered burns across his body after an accident had happened in his home, his only child had been wanting to take care of his father so that he would not be alone.

They had been surprised about him. He was an intelligent man, but he was stern and rarely smiled, often in heavy bouts of pain. But they do not blame him. His burns had not completely healed. Often, it was only morphine that could put him to rest.

They met the old man’s son soon enough. Their neighbor, Nanami Kento, had been kind to them when they first met. It had all begun when they had struggled with their purchases from the market and he had been willing to lend a hand. He had always smiled at them with his thin lips, blossoming craters upon his cheeks.

He was a beautiful man, with his light blond hair and his soft brown eyes. They were nearly the same height, but it did not perturb him. Still, there were corners they could not reach, even with their height. Kento had been the one to help them, reaching forward so devotedly.

It was obvious that he had been a bigger man in a frame than them, though. Kento’s father had bragged about it, certainly. They could see Kento’s cheeks redden ever so brightly. They could only find themselves laughing along with Kento’s father as he reacted even more expressively. For a while, Kento had kept them company as time went by. That had soothed them and kindly given them something to look forward to. From the friendship that blossomed, they had found something they had longed to have in a long time — a true laugh.

There had not been any interaction with the two of them, for a time after that. Kento admitted to them that for a while, he pondered if he should continue developing affinity with them. When they allowed him to continue to explore the depth of that warmth between them, Kento had been certain to be nothing but good to them.

He respected them too much, giving them much more than any one, even Suguru, had afforded them. When they talked, there was not a semblance of awkwardness. Not once did they feel any dull moments hit the tune they danced to. It had been easy to just be with him. The burdens did not exist in his every touch, not even in his gazes. The warmth of his embraces had enraptured their cold body, eager for the warmth of someone’s care.

That made them feel relieved, to not be alone any longer. There was comfort in someone’s kindness and truthfulness. From then on, they had always been aided by him. That’s why they had felt as though they too would like to return the favor, taking the responsibility of taking care of his father when they had the time to do so.

They had conversed with him when the older man had no company in the apartment’s commune. Kento had sent them a telegram saying that he would be home later tonight, but the trains had a mishap.They had switched his reserved seat for another day and it took a while to fix with the officers of the train.

As such, Kento asked them to take care of his father till he returned. They had no qualms with doing so, having a day off that day. Besides, Kento had told them that his father had been melancholic after his mother had passed. His father needed someone and they were willing to step forward to be that someone.

They had not known the language he was now speaking, the deep thick accent of his words befuddled from the hale of medication he was taking. It did not seem he understood what they were saying in reply either. Yet during the times that he did, it had made them warm inside. Today seemed like a good day, where they responded back to them.

Today, he seemed to know what they had been saying though, smiling when they told him good things that happened at the market this morning. But for the most part, they created a language through actions. At least when the older man had been capable. But most days, the two of them sat to enjoy the day. Just by sitting together to enjoy the warmth of the small fireplace in their apartment. It was enough to have someone.

Kento’s father had been someone who had been interested in pottery, as far as teaching it for years when he had been a younger man in the capital’s finest schools. Kento had told themthat it had been part of their family’s history, as his grandfather had been a historian who studied the history of their family’s hometown. His father had become intrigued by the pots and vases they would find, eventually deciding to focus on such studies and practice.

It piqued their interest, for the most part, watching Kento’s father tell them ceramics he had taken with him from all the places he had come to work when he was able. Most clearly on days when the morphine had not overtaken him. Some he had made by hand, practicing methods that had long been gone and reviving them one motion at a time. But now they were only stories, his body no longer able to do as he wished, in particular, took her interest. Bright golden streaks echoed through the plate like golden rain, wonderfully varnished with nothing but the finest finish. When they turned a moment later to ask, they had gotten the reply.

“That had been from the days of old.” Kento’s father whispered to them, gazing at them with a small smile. “They called it kintsugi, young one.”

Their eyes gazed at him questioningly. “What is that?”

The old man gazed at them with warm almond eyes and smiled at her, speaking. “Something that is broken being fixed with gold, child. To be whole again. It is a kindness, an echo of beauty. A new life.”

For a moment they blinked, stunned that he had gathered himself in his chair with a painful groan.

“A new life?”

The old man smiled at her once more, faintly this time. “All that is broken — is not truly broken. It is just waiting to find a way to be alive again. That is why they used to fix it with gold. Life for the broken can be golden too. There is always a new path to walk on again, young child.”

That moment made their heart flutter, almost as if they had been waiting their whole entire existence for those words to be said to them. Warm words of simple solace were sometimes more than the warmth of the fire crackling in the room. It was the most genuine warmth against the winter. Tears streamed down their cheeks. They could only whisper, "Thank you."

Ever since then, they had come to be fond of the artistry of kintsugi—pooling as much as they could to the devotion of new passions. It was a new life they had been living, excitement pumped through veins. In these two years, they had ended up getting lessons from Kento’s father on pottery when he was able to instruct. It had been a pleasant time, having to spend carelessly after work in the wonderful pool of stories, of myths, and of time gone by that had suddenly made them forget about the mournful heartbreak.

When he was in too much pain, they nursed him to rest and afterwards, continued to do as they pleased with learning the art of the pottery. The wind that cooled their body from the open window had been refreshing, the exhaustion of work pondering their body. It had been for a new exhibition, one that had come after the other. It had been something that had surprised them, that such skillful artistry would become the wholeness of their current life. But it fulfilled them, it had filled the gaps they had with gold—to live again as they had always had. Forward.

In a moment as they dipped their hands in the cold pools in the bowl, they did not remember how lost they had been when the already gone had seeped through. It had been pouring lately, but it had been expected, especially as their quarter was always affected by the autumn rains. Pursing their lips, the young soul could only sigh as they saw the roof still dripping from last night’s wistful rain.

It had always slipped their mind, to tell Kento about the leaking roof. But it could not be helped as they gazed at the open window. They would tell him when he gets home from work, he would fix it. Leaning forward, they watched what remained of the rain pour through.

For a moment, their mind explored the corner it always returns to. The smile on her lips as they chased them, playing those childish games. The cold rains were heavily drenching their Sunday dresses, readying for church. But those lark eyes did not care.

No, they were paved with mischief. They were a wildfire, burning through with his loud laughter. Those were happy moments, their memories whispered, Memories that yearned for him, that adored him. Urging them to open her heart once again, to love the ghost haunting them. That moving forward should mean loving what was already passed.

No, now at this moment — they shook their head. They will not go back to those memories. They will not. They felt happy. This was their life now, their new life. And they are doing well. They are happy, even. Happier than ever before. They felt content in the already small space crowding in the wonder of sketches across the battered walls.

The round table is full of drying plaster vases, letting the hot sun beckon it frozen in the summer heat. The smell of charcoal gathered across their blackened fingers, as they rubbed them against the planned design. At that moment, the new path had become dipped in gold. And for that, they were grateful. There was no need. No need to return .

But when the night came, they nearly dropped the envelope.

Kento had returned, placing a kiss upon the temple of their head.

Their left hand over their lips, the ring echoing a tender promise.

‘Had Yaga give me up to him?’ They panicked, their heart beating wildly. ‘No, he wouldn’t do that to me…..But still, how did he?…’

“Are you alright?” Kento lowered his gaze at his lover, questioning them. For a moment he was worried. They had been tearing up, still staring at the letter. Putting his soft hands against their shoulder, the shine of the ring finger beckoned against the early dawn. “‘Hey, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” They whispered to him, wiping away their tears, and tore the envelope and threw it in the bin. “It was nothing.”

His gaze beckoned towards the bin and then to them. “Are you sure? It’s nothing bad, is it?”

“No, it was just an advert. Nothing important.” They gave him a small smile to reassure him. But his eyes could see that the light in his lover’s eyes was dim. “Selling me those ridiculously expensive silver pots again.”

“I see.” He did not want to overwhelm his lover by asking. He pursed his lips and turned to them, putting his hands on their face. Rubbing their cheeks, he tried to comfort them with his touch.

But they turned their face slightly away from him. “It’s just that. It’s not that important.”

The fondness across his lips deepened. “You don’t have to buy them, you know. I know you hate them. But I suppose the ad may be telling us something. I’ll take you, we’ll buy you something. Even if it's not the silver pots. You need to treat yourself, love. Tell me. I’ll buy it for you.”

“I just….” They could not find the words to say. Their heart beating fast, They clutched their hands onto it as though to beg for it to stop. “I’ll decide later….it could just be another waste of money, you know?”

He shook his head laughing. “Spoiling you, making you smile. It will never be a waste of money, you got it?”

They pierced their lips in a tender line and then smiled, nodding.

He sighed softly, satisfied. Kento put his hands on their shoulders and then their arms. Moving close to them, he allowed his body to caress them. They had rested their head onto his shoulders, quietly accepting his comfort. They had stayed that way for a while, Kento knowing he would have to leave in a couple of minutes.

He indulged himself to comfort them at this time when he would not see them for a couple of days at most. He needed to be with them. In all times he can be there, he will be. It was the least he could do, after being so far away from them all this time. He loved them with all his heart, after all. When they had parted, he grabbed his coat and put his hat on. He turned to them, smiling widely at them. Her fingers played at the texture of his trench coat.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible. I would not want to miss dinner with your uncle.” He tells them, caressing his lover’s long spread of hair tenderly. “I’ll hurriedly finish work and come straight home, hm? I’ll bring some flowers too.”

They let out a small laugh. “I’ll look forward to it.”

He kissed the edge of their temple and then their cheek before they separated once again. Finally, he gathered his lips around theirs and softly hugged them. They peered into one other's eyes, before they laughed. Kento whispered his goodbyes and heard them say farewell. When they had closed the door, reality shook her to its core. It had his name on the mail, written as sender. It had been Suguru's name. They hurried to the bin, opening it and taking the torn letter.

Tears streamed down in their eyes as they realized that the wound had reopened. The shadows of the past had come and rushed like a flood, like a sudden thunder from the skies. They had been found once more, they had been yearned for. Suguru had written to them. After all this time, he wanted them.

They stared at the torn letter and burst into a sob, guttural almost like an animal’s wild cries. In a soundless fall of their body on the floor, heavy tears surged like an infinite wave of ripping currents. Their arms shook as they clutched themselves, gathering over their shoulder blades.

All the emotions they had felt at the time, and yet still felt, hurried back to them like lightning striking the soil over and over. Everything had returned. All that they had buried within the back of their mind. All that they had fought to bury six feet under, they had all but risen from the dead. They couldn’t stop themselves from embracing the cuts of the envelope as though they were cradling the most precious thing in the world.

Suguru’s name echoed in the bits and pieces of shredded paper. After all this time, he still remembered them. After all this time, there was still that wanting, that forbidden desire. But it would never happen now. After putting Kento’s father into bed and aided him to sleep that night,their restless abandon in the pool of recalling tears called them awake.

And here in this lonesome space, with this torn letter — this torn letter that shouldn’t even exist. Suguru was now living his dream, his destiny, his duty. There were children laughing every day in the choir of the church. Satoru still visits, sometimes with Shoko. Suguru had taken in twin girls in the church, adopting them after their parents had left them at the steps of the large gates. He was living his dream, he had his life now. His life was now fulfilled. Full of the newfound hope and laughter.

Geto Suguru should be doing well. He was happy. He said as much in his appointment at the church. They were there, a witness as his dreams tore apart years of a home built in each other. Suguru smiled at them from all the way in the back. They choked a sob and stood, leaving. It was enough, seeing him then. Dazzling in the bright golden crucifix on his chest and the most beautiful black robes and that mantle of yellow–gold. That had been enough of a scene, that should have been the ending of those pictures in the theater. That should have been the end.

‘But his dark lark-like eyes. His eyes were grieving you.’

Reeling in a moment of rewind, the words in the card makes them feel like they were going to burst into tears once again. Suguru had become one with god, become one with the divine, with the duty of the sacred. That world is treating him well. They prayed every day, in the silence of their repeating days, that he would always be well. That he’ll always be healthy.

That he would always be happy. That god would always favor him. They knew that god would always be kind, god will always be merciful, god would grant their prayers. They knew that. After all, god has taught love. And in their heart, there was only love for the man that had made her feel what love truly looks like.

There was that day, that day in central Tokyo, when Kento had brought them for a day out with his father. They were going to visit his mother’s grave. In the markets, they walked and talked. Deciding what to give in offering to the temple and then to his mother. Yet it caught their eye immediately. The same long tresses of hair, as charcoal as the night.

The same sound of laughter echoing from the distance. Dark priestly robes beckoned his body, kind words poured through the sanctity of his lips. Behind him were two young girls, dressed in long dresses, trailing behind him so tenderly. Silver crosses were on their necks, a gift no doubt from the priestly man, the godly man, that had taken them in.

The two girls shared the same shine, same passion in their eyes as Suguru does. Jolly in the tenderness, they were so beautiful in the morning sun. They felt their heart break at the sight, as they lowered their parasol and let the sight be gone. For the past to just be the past. For life to move forward. It was better that way. For the two of them. It was better to forget than remember. Yet, that’s what they did.

They had wept ever so silently all night when they returned home, trying their hardest to not be seen by their lover. They did not want Kento to worry. They did not want to trouble him in his sleep. They did not want to cause more suffering. Not for them, not for the memory of the long lost love they knew Kento could never replace. There must not be anymore reminiscing, there must not be anymore yearning. There must not be any more curiosity.

‘I don’t miss you.’ They whispered to their restless heart as they wept. ‘I do not miss you.’

Their hands grasped the envelope with a trembling breath. They chewed at their thin lips even more as they trembled and felt the tears flood. They looked at the envelope with eyes shaking, too unwilling to say goodbye. A harsh cry came from them as the shaking hands clasped together, cutting through the coherence to incomprehensible fragments that would never be whole again.

They gathered them in their hands and stood, allowing the tears to pour. They shut their eyes once They reached the bin, as if they were mourning a death. Even after these many years, perhaps they will always mourn. This was a tragic death that will never be forgotten. A death that would haunt them for the rest of their life. They apologized as they stared at the bits, whispering those words of devoted love that had long been banished from her lips.

They cried Suguru’s name repeatedly, at each repetition, it was almost like a prayer more than anything else. Those words of love died as much as their beloved Suguru’s name did in each round of breath. They said tearful goodbyes, each and every time. They murmured the parting words of her love. They watched as their body moved on its own and flung them aside moments later.

They put their gloves back on their hands and their bonnet back on their small head as they paid for their drink in eerie silence. The staff had not been there, but they left the payment anyway. The tears dried sooner than later, and their heart had no more space to become even more numb at each pang of the ache. But it was all for the best.

Kento’s father will be walking soon, and they needed to arrange breakfast for him. They felt the frigid wind surge through their shrouded bodies as they strolled through the dimly lit streets, and They pondered if it was god above comforting them, just as Suguru used to say. They wondered if all would ever be okay. That they were pleased with what they had done.

Their lips let out a forlorn sigh as they slid their hands into the sleeves of their coat. They took a deep breath and started to walk home, the echoes of their footsteps merging with the silent cries of their heart. Memories of love, now tinged with the bittersweet hues of what once was.

“It was nothing.” They whispered to the calm air, convincing themselves. “It was just what it was in the end.”

They smiled and paused as they saw a falling star.

“I’m living well, Suguru.”

“I’m glad to know that.”

They turned their head up as they halted, under the light.

Their mouth opened as the dark eyed priest smiled at them.

He still looked so beautiful, especially now, under the moonlight.

They halted, facing each other, and the dim light revealed the lines etched by time on Suguru's face. It must have been a moment of peace for Suguru, his steps measured and deliberate, a silent echo of the morning rituals he once shared with them. He always loved walking, embracing the fresh air as the world awoke. The memory of those quiet mornings lingered, a haunting reminder of a love that once flourished like the flowers touched by the first light of dawn.

As Suguru drew closer, the streetlamp cast a glow upon the contours of his face, revealing the weariness that came with the weight of his choices. His eyes, reflective pools of regret and nostalgia, met theirs, and for a moment, time stood still. The priestly robes draped around him seemed to carry the burden of unspoken confessions and silent prayers.

He had seemed all grown up, his hair longer than it had been all those years ago. Yet, he was still whom they knew. The person they had loved the most in the world. Their very heart, right in front of them, as though they had never parted.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

Suguru smiled at the sound of their voice, his steps slowing as if time itself had granted them a brief moment of suspended reality. The street lamp flickered, casting dancing shadows that played across his somber features. His eyes, once filled with the warmth of shared memories, now held a distant recognition.

"Long time no see," they whispered, the words escaping their lips in a hushed tone, laden with a mixture of nostalgia and restraint. The blink that followed seemed to bridge the gap between the past and the present, a futile attempt to clear away the emotional fog that hung between them.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you too.”

"Sugu—No, uh, Father. Father Geto," they stammered, the words catching in their throat as they struggled to reconcile the familiarity of the old name with the newfound title of reverence. The transition from the intimate to the formal underscored the undeniable transformation Suguru had undergone.

A fleeting sadness crossed Suguru's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the divide that now existed between them. The weight of the priestly robes seemed to intensify, as if the fabric itself bore witness to the complexities of their shared history.

Whispers of the impossibilities that had consistently echoed in his mind for years when it came to them, to the life they could have had. The life they could have deserved. He was certain that their words shattered him, his mind full of chances and roads not taken.

"Indeed, it has been a long time," Suguru replied, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths. The use of the formal title added a layer of formality to their exchange, a thin veil attempting to conceal the depth of the emotions lingering beneath the surface.

A heavy silence settled between them, and the flickering street lamp seemed to cast a spotlight on the unresolved tension in the air. Their gaze lingered on Suguru's face, searching for traces of the person they once knew within the contours of the priest before them.

Father Geto, his expression a mask of duty and restraint, nodded in acknowledgment.

"Yes, it has," he replied, his voice a measured cadence that echoed through the quiet night.

They bit their lower lip, a nervous habit that betrayed the turbulence within. The words unsaid, the questions unasked, hung in the air like a delicate thread waiting to unravel. The night embraced the weight of their emotions, and the street lamp continued to flicker, casting its dim glow further upon the scene—a reunion tainted by the passage of time and the choices that led them down divergent paths.

Their eyes shimmered with unshed tears as Geto Suguru let the passage of time settle in the air. The chasm between them widened, and in that moment of silence, it seemed to stretch into eternity—a vast expanse of unspoken emotions and missed opportunities.

"Suguru," They whispered, unable to mask the vulnerability in their voice. The name hung between them, a bridge attempting to span the gap created by titles and time.

Suguru's gaze flickered with a mixture of pain and understanding. Yet in between, so much love. So much devotion – sealed away for what remained of all his life. Reserved for a lifetime where his yearning to duty, to god, did not win.

"Please," he began, the weight of his own emotions evident in the quiver of his voice, "Call me Father Geto. It's the only way we can navigate this... this impossibility."

The words hung heavy in the air, a poignant acknowledgment of the constraints that bound them. They merely nodded, a small, pained acceptance of the reality that lay before them.

"Father Geto," They uttered, the words tasting foreign on their tongue.

A sigh escaped Suguru's lips, a fragile exhale carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies.

"I never wanted it to be like this," he confessed, his eyes betraying a sadness that transcended the boundaries of their shared history.

"I know," they replied, aching with the burden of understanding. The streetl amp's flickering light cast a dance of shadows on Suguru's face, emphasizing the lines etched by time and choices.

The heavy silence persisted, a tangible force that hung in the air like a shroud. Their gaze fought to be tender as they remained fixed on Suguru's face, as though trying to find solace in the familiar features that had once provided comfort and warmth.

Father Geto, a master of self-discipline, struggled to maintain the mask of duty and restraint.

"We are bound by different paths now," he said, each word resonating with the finality of their choices.

They took a hesitant step forward, as if attempting to breach the invisible barrier between them.

"Do you ever regret it?" they asked, their voice a mere whisper in the quiet night.

Suguru's eyes, haunted by the ghosts of what could have been, met theirs.

"I would be lying if I said I didn’t," he admitted, the confession heavy with the weight of his own longing.

Tears welled up in their eyes, and they fought to keep their composure.

"I thought time would make it easier," they confessed, a raw vulnerability laid bare beneath the dim glow of the streetlamp.

Suguru offered them a weary smile, a flicker of shared pain passing between them.

"Time has a way of revealing wounds we thought were healed," he said, the truth echoing through the hallowed space between them.

The night embraced them, a silent witness to the intricate dance of emotions beneath the flickering street lamp. Time seemed to stand still, allowing the echoes of a love both tender and tormented to reverberate through the quiet air, wrapping around them like a shroud of nostalgia.

"I miss you," they whispered, the words hanging in the cool night air, laden with the weight of untold stories and the lingering ache of unresolved emotions.

Suguru, with a melancholic smile that held the depth of a thousand shared sunsets, replied, "I know."

His words, a testament to the silent understanding that had weathered the storms of time, painted a canvas of their shared history.

A brief yet profound moment passed between them, a communion of souls familiar with the artistry of sorrow. They exchanged sad smiles, acknowledging the pain that dwelled beneath the surface—a tapestry woven with the threads of what was and what could never be again.

"But you'll never leave God, won't you?" they asked, the words hanging in the air like a sacred hymn, a melody of unspoken truths that resonated through the silence.

Suguru, his gaze drifting to the ground like a fallen prayer, nodded with a heaviness that only a man torn between earthly desires and divine duty could understand.

"Yeah," he confessed, his voice a fragile melody that cracked with the weight of the choices he bore.

A bitter laugh escaped them, a bitter acknowledgment of the cosmic joke that played with the strings of their fate. "Damn."

"I'm sorry," Suguru whispered, the words carrying the weight of unspoken regrets, a plea for forgiveness in a universe that seemed indifferent to the intricacies of human hearts.

Suguru listened in the gentle embrace of the night, the words hanging in the air like a delicate confession of the heart. The flickering street lamp cast a soft glow on their faces, revealing the vulnerability etched in the lines of their expressions.

“I’ve never felt so homeless,” they admitted, their voice a poignant melody that resonated with the ache of a displaced soul. A somber laugh escaped them, a fragile release of emotion that danced on the precipice of tears. "To be without the person that made me feel like life can be a home. It’s as if I’ve been taught how to build a home, and then it's just, in ruins.”

Suguru, his eyes reflecting the constellations of shared pain, nodded in solemn understanding. The weight of their words echoed through the silent night, the gravity of loss settling like a heavy fog.

“It's a peculiar kind of emptiness,” he mused, his voice a low murmur, as if joining the nocturnal conversation with the whispers of the wind. "To have known the warmth of a home, only to find it reduced to ruins. The echoes of what was linger in the cracks, haunting the spaces that once held promises."

The person's gaze, a reflection of a universe in turmoil, met Suguru's.

"You were my home," they confessed, the words carrying the weight of unspoken dreams and the fragments of a life that now lay in ruins.

Suguru, his heart heavy with the acknowledgment of what had been lost, replied, "And you were mine." His voice, a gentle breeze that carried the scent of nostalgia, painted the canvas of their shared memories. "You'll always be."

"I know." They replied back, pointing to the middle of their chest. "You'll always find your way into a house here too."

The night wrapped around them, a silent witness to the unraveling of a love that had once been the cornerstone of their existence. The street lamp flickered, casting a dance of shadows on the remnants of their shared dreams, now scattered like stardust in the cosmic expanse.

As they stood beneath the dim glow, Suguru reached out, a silent offering of solace in the face of their shared homelessness. The person, their eyes brimming with unshed tears, accepted the gesture, a fragile connection in the midst of ruins.

"It's okay not to have all the answers," Suguru whispered, his words a gentle reassurance, a beacon of understanding in the night. "Sometimes, the process of rebuilding begins with acknowledging the ruins."

"Did you do the same?"

He laughs somberly.

"I'll still have to learn to. Just like you." He whispers back to them, tilting his head at them. "It's often hard, when you love someone so much. There's too much to want, too much to remember. But also too much to forget."

They pursed their lips at him.

"Do you want to forget me?"

He shakes his head.

"No. Never."

They dug deeper into their pockets.

"You know, the worst thing is, after all this time, I don't think I've stopped loving you," they confessed, the admission tearing at the seams of their heart like a love letter written on the pages of time. "I still love you. Even if I have someone to love now, I still love you."

There was panic in his eyes for a moment. As though those three words being said paralyzed him. As though they compelled him. The mere three words echoing in his ears made him feel as though he would break covenant to god the moment he heard them. He would sin and he would sin knowing his heart would not be guided by reason. Love after all, does not have reason. Love is just love.

Suguru, looking at them with eyes that mirrored the reflection of constellations, pleaded, "No, no, don't."

"Let's just leave that out there just for a second on its own," they said, a brief huff following as they gathered the shattered remnants of their composure. "It needs to be said, one last time."

Suguru, resigned to the bitter reality that hung between them like a faded photograph, nodded with a quiet acceptance. He offered a smile, fragile as porcelain. "Alright."

"I love you," they declared, the words a sacred offering hung in the air, a requiem for a love that refused to be extinguished, a melody that echoed through the chambers of their shared history.

Suguru, offering a tender smile, whispered, "It'll pass."

"I know," they replied, their voice carrying the wisdom of a soul that had danced with the fleeting nature of love, accepting the transient beauty of their shared pain.

As if prompted by an unseen force, they both turned, their hearts guiding them toward separate destinies. They who is still tethered to the past, lingered in the shadows of what could have been, as if waiting for a final resolution that might never come. Suguru, facing the far reach of the church's dome like a silent sentinel, took a moment to compose himself, tears betraying the stoic facade he wore as a priest.

"I love you too," Suguru confessed, the words a whispered goodbye, a final benediction offered to a love that had been both a sanctuary and a storm.

And then, with a heavy silence enveloping them like a shroud, they finally parted ways. Each step echoed the closing of a chapter, a poignant farewell etched into the fabric of their souls—a bittersweet symphony played beneath the dim glow of a street lamp, where love and destiny converged and diverged in the grand tapestry of life.

There is still a home, built the soul of those you love.

They walked away, they couldn’t help smiling through the tears.

There’s always going to be that home, made just for each other.

They live on together, small crevices of the soul just for each other.

They'll be fine.

Suguru would be fine.

They'll always build a home.

Together.

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ginafumbless · 3 months ago

Text

Soulmate - p.jm

Who was never meant to be

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Genre: Romance, Unrequited love, Drama

Prologue: There are love in life that feel like they’re written in the stars connections so deep that they echo through every heartbeat. But not all of these love are meant to last.

Note : Hillo Hillo beanineeeesss, this has probably been in my drafts since the beginning. I hope you guys like it. Have a great day and off course night as well!! :))

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You met Jimin on the first day of kindergarten. He was the boy with the messy black hair, the brightest eyes and a shy smile who walked up to you with his tiny hands holding a box of crayons. “Want to share?” he asked his voice barely above a whisper his face hopeful.

You nodded and that simple exchange was the beginning of something that would shape your entire childhood. From that day forward it was always “you and Jimin.” You were inseparable like two sides of the same coin. There was something about Jimin that made you feel safe like the world was a little less scary with him by your side.

In elementary school your days were filled with laughter and adventures. You’d ride your bikes to the park after school racing each other down the hill your hair whipping in the wind. Jimin always let you win his face lighting up with a smile as he watched you celebrate your victory your laughter infectious.

“See? I told you I’d beat you!” you’d say breathless from excitement.

Jimin would just grin his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that always made your heart feel warm. “Yeah you’re the fastest.” He would say

On weekends you’d spend hours in his room or he in yours building forts out of old blankets and pretending you were explorers in a far off land. The world outside didn’t matter as long as you had Jimin beside you. Your best friend, your partner in crime.

One rainy afternoon you both huddled under your blanket fort the sound of raindrops pattering against the roof. Jimin had a flashlight and he shined it on the walls, making shadow puppets with his hands.

“Do you think we’ll always be friends?” he asked suddenly his voice small in the quiet.

You looked at him, surprised by the question. “Of course we will” you replied confidently. “We’re best friends forever.”

Jimin smiled at that a look of relief passing over his face. “Yeah best friends forever.”

Middle school was a bit more complicated. The days of carefree playtime were replaced by homework and puberty the awkwardness of growing up hanging over you like a cloud. But even as everything around you started to change, Jimin was still the one constant in your life. He was the one who walked you to class, who sat with you at lunch, who made you laugh when the world seemed too serious.

He was also the one who started noticing things about you that he hadn’t before. You were changing growing into yourself, and so was he. You noticed the way his voice started to deepen the way he grew taller, the way his smile made your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t quite understand.

One night, when you were both twelve you found yourselves lying on the grass in his backyard staring up at the stars. The air was warm and the scent of freshly cut grass filled your lungs.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Jimin asked his voice thoughtful as he traced the constellations with his finger.

“Sometimes” you replied, turning your head to look at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know” he said his voice trailing off. “I guess I just can’t imagine it without you”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and you felt a strange mix of emotions happiness, fear and something you couldn’t quite name. “Me neither” you admitted softly.

High school was a whirlwind of new experiences first crushes, late night study sessions and the pressure of figuring out who you were. But through it all Jimin was still your anchor, the one person who made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

You watched as he grew more confident, his talent for dance earning him admiration from everyone around him. He was popular with a smile that could light up a room and a heart that was just as kind. But even as the girls started to notice him he always made time for you.

There was one night during your sophomore year that stood out above all the others. You and Jimin were at the park sitting on the swings, the moon casting a soft glow over the playground. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the only sounds were the creaking of the swings and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

“Do you ever think about what would happen if we weren’t friends?” Jimin asked suddenly his voice tinged with a seriousness that made your heart clench.

You looked over at him, your swing slowing as you took in his expression. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know… like what if things changed? What if one day, we weren’t as close as we are now?”

The thought terrified you. “Why would you even say that, Jimin? We’ve been friends forever. Nothing’s going to change that.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the ground as he scuffed his shoes in the dirt. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said finally his voice barely above a whisper.

“You won’t” you said your voice firm. “We’re in this together remember?”

Jimin looked up at you then his eyes filled with a mix of emotions that made your heart ache. “Yeah together” he echoed though there was something in his tone that made you wonder if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

The tension between you both continued to grow as the years went on. There were moments when you’d catch him looking at you, a question in his eyes that neither of you dared to ask. And then came senior prom the night everything changed.

Jimin had asked you to be his date and you had agreed even though your heart was pounding at the thought. As you danced together, the world seemed to fade away leaving just the two of you in a bubble of music and soft lights.

“I’m really going to miss this” Jimin said as he held you close his voice filled with a sadness that made your chest tighten.

“Me too” you replied resting your head against his shoulder trying to memorize the feel of him, the scent of his cologne, the sound of his heartbeat.

And then, in a moment of courage or maybe desperation you leaned up and kissed him. It was soft, tentative filled with all the unspoken feelings you had kept locked away for so long. When you pulled back Jimin looked at you with wide eyes his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” he asked a faint smile playing on his lips though his eyes were still filled with uncertainty.

You shrugged trying to hide the tears that were threatening to spill over. “Maybe we were scared.”

“Yeah” he agreed softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Maybe we were.”

But even as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms you both knew that things were different now. The kiss had changed everything and there was no going back to the way things were.

As graduation approached the reality of the future began to sink in. Jimin had been accepted into a prestigious dance program on the other side of the country while you were staying closer to home for college. The distance between you was something neither of you knew how to navigate.

The night before he was set to leave you met at the park, the place that had been seen you both grow into people you are today. The swings were still there creaking softly in the breeze but now they seemed to hold a weight they never had before.

“I don’t know how we’re going to do this” Jimin said his voice thick with emotion.

“We’ll figure it out” you replied trying to sound confident even though your heart was breaking. “We always do.”

Jimin looked at you his eyes filled with pain. “But what if we can’t? What if… what if it’s better if we let go?”

You felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you. “You want to break up? Before we even had a chance?”

“I don’t want to” Jimin said quickly tears spilling down his cheeks. “But I don’t know how to make this work. I’m scared and I don’t want to lose what we have.”

The silence between you was deafening filled with all the words you both wanted to say but couldn’t find the strength to speak. Finally Jimin took a deep “Maybe we’re not meant to be.”

You stared at him feeling your heart shatter into a million pieces. “So, that’s it? After everything… we just walk away?”

“I don’t want to hurt you” he said his voice cracking. “But maybe this is the only way.”

Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head unable to believe what was happening. But deep down you knew he was right. You had been trying so hard to hold on to make something work that wasn’t meant to be.

With one last look Jimin turned and walked away his figure growing smaller with each step. You watched him go feeling like a part of you was being ripped away leaving an empty void in its place.

The years passed, but the pain never fully went away. You both moved on with your lives but there was always that lingering question of what could have been. You heard through mutual friends that Jimin had become a successful dancer living his dream. You were happy for him truly, but the ache in your heart remained.

Seeing his name on the envelope brought back a rush of memories playgrounds, late night talks under the stars and the feel of his hand in yours as you danced together at prom. Your heart clenched at the thought of him standing at the altar waiting for someone else someone who wasn’t you.

It was an invitation to his Wedding.

Despite the pain you decided to attend feeling that it was a moment of closure you needed. You had your own life , your own partner someone who loved you and whom you cared deeply about. But even with a loving relationship the shadow of your past with Jimin lingered.

On the day of the wedding you arrived at the venue a beautiful garden with blooming flowers and soft golden light. Your husband squeezed your hand reassuringly. “You don’t have to do this if it’s too hard” he said his voice full of understanding.

“No, I need to be here” you said taking a deep breath. “It’s something I have to do.”

As you walked down the aisle the familiar scent of roses filled the air and you could see Jimin standing at the front looking dashing in his tuxedo. His eyes though filled with happiness seemed to search the crowd. For a moment you thought he might have been looking for you but you quickly pushed that thought away.

When the ceremony began, you felt a mix of emotions nostalgia, sadness and a strange sense of peace. You watched as Jimin exchanged vows with his bride his words filled with sincerity and love. You couldn’t help but remember the promises you had made to each other years ago and the way they had never quite materialized.

When the ceremony concluded you were invited to the reception. You mingled with old friends and acquaintances feeling the weight of the past and the reality of the present. Your husband stayed close offering comfort and understanding.

At one point, Jimin approached you his expression a mixture of surprise and emotion. “I didn’t expect to see you” he said his voice tinged with a hint of awkwardness.

You smiled softly trying to hide the lump in your throat. “I didn’t want to miss it. Congratulations Jimin.”

“Thank you” he said looking down at the floor for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “I… I’ve thought about you a lot over the years. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how things ended.”

You nodded feeling the sting of those words. “It was a long time ago. We both moved on.”

“I know” Jimin said “But it doesn’t change how much you meant to me. I never wanted to hurt you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. You could see the pain and regret in his eyes and it was clear that he had never truly let go of the past just as you hadn’t.

“I hope you find happiness” you said your voice trembling slightly. “You deserve it.”

Jimin nodded his eyes misty. “Thank you. And… I hope you do too.”

The conversation ended there and Jimin returned to his now wife leaving you with a heavy heart.

Jimin had been your first love, your soulmate in a way that no one else ever could be. He had shaped who you were, taught you what it meant to truly love someone. Even though you didn't end up together those memories were something you would cherish forever.

Because in the end some soulmates aren't meant to stay they're meant to teach you to show you the beauty of love and then to let you go. And that was okay. Because the time you had with Jimin the love you shared, was more than enough.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts imagines #park jimin #jimin #pjm #romance #unrequited love #soulmates #bts smut #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

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