#turns out I find it wayyy more comfortable anyways

[clfixationstation]

every day I regret not flirting back with that pretty girl at the party, I fumbled so hard

me when pretty girl shows me an ounce of attention:

[thel0v3hashira143]

❝ 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐄𝐒! ❝

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ married life with jjk men ☆ yuuji megumi gojo geto nanami n ino!

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masterlist 💕

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ warnings: fem!reader, reader is a sorcerer, black coded but anyone can read, mentions of sex/pregnancy/kids, mentions of breakups

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ notes: sorry they're kinda short!! i abandoned my ap chem work to do this so pls like it up!😞😞inspired by my personal fantasies lately. sighhh i love my man :3 stay hot!!! 🎀

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 1.1k words, 6.3k characters

yuuji itadori 🌸

BRUHH I LOVE HIM SM HE'S SO HUSBAND MATERIAL

the first out of the bunch to tie the knot

a high school sweetheart kinda vibe like y'all def got married straight out of graduating jujutsu tech

small and intimate wedding, just friends and family in attendance

never shuts up about you when you guys are apart.

"y'know [name]- my wife, me and my wife-, isn't my wife just the coolest?"

megumi and nobara are SICK OF HIM

absolutely REFUSES to go on missions without you cause bby just wants to protect you

when you guys finish missions he always takes you out to eat in tokyo, it's like a lil tradition you guys do 🥲💕

as for dates it's always super spontaneous and he makes sure you never do the same thing twice

but he likes to stay home too!! movie dates at home are his favorite, but he won't tell you since he knows you like going out

HE ALSO PAYS FOR UR STUFF AT THE BEAUTY SUPPLY UGHHH

just follows you around as you fill up the basket and is ready to pay at the register

he's just so happy he's yours.

megumi fushiguro 🌸

not THE last! but one of the last to get married

BUT HE LOVES U SO FREAKING MUCH

it took him a couple years to pop the question, not because he wasn't sure about your relationship, but because he wanted to make sure he was ready before making such a big commitment

no wedding, y'all eloped and went to the courthouse but you had a little ceremony after :3

isn't super vocal about his affections like yuuji, but he does small things

you're his homescreen and his lockscreen is a picture of you two at the courthouse when you guys got married 🩷

he trust your abilities but does secretly fret when you go on missions alone

as for dates he's def a homebody...

he considers any one on one time with you a date...not in a lame way tho!

he just finds the two of you in your home alone to be intimate and comfortable

speaking of home alone...you guys have one kiddo since you guys were a little older when you tied the knot!!

a cute little girl who is y'alls pride and joy. when you told megumi you were pregnant tho he was terrified.

he just didn't want to turn out like his father

but he loves you and your little girl dearly 🩷.

satoru gojo 🌸

THE BLUE EYED PRINCE IS UR HUSBAND??? girl whats ur secret??

anyways, small wedding (he didn't want the elders all up in ur buisness) happy home, and wayyy too many kids

nobody expected you both to have so many kids but you have such a beautiful body!! how could he keep his hands off you?

and besides look at him and tell me he doesn't have a breeding kink...

due to you both being the strongest sorcerers and the kids, your schedules got a bit hectic but he always makes sure you're taken care of

multiple calls day and night, he loves to hear your voice...or moans. (he's hi-key a freak)

RESTURAUNT DATES

we know he loves sweets but you guys always go to nice restaurants, cause he believes you deserves the finest things in life

and he loves his kid so dearly

he's giving me 2 girls, 1 boy energy

from the tea parties, makeovers and late video game nights, he endures it all because of how much he adores them.

he adores you even more tho <3.

suguru geto 🌸

the. perfect. husband.

anything you want? you got it.

hair? done. nails? how much is your set?

definitely had the biggest wedding out of everyone (and the biggest ring)

AND A HUGE HONEYMOON like y'all were gone at least 2 weeks

everyone's fav couple, like nobody ever gets sick of y'all

he absolutely lovesss pda can can't keep his hands to him self. always has a hand on your lower back, arm around your shoulders, and he's just super in tune to you as a whole

wants kids bad, LIKE BAD

and y'all got busy on that honeymoon so you def had one pretty soon after the wedding

when you were pregnant, he spoiled you rotten and he made it his #1 priority to make sure you hadn't a worry in the world

you have 2 beautiful girls and suguru loves them more than life

he tries his best to keep them away from sorcerer life for as long as possible because he knows what it's like to be ostracized because of that life

has no favorites, but if he did it would be you.

kento nanami 🌸

sighhh my old man :)))

last to marry, but the ceremony was beautiful!

intimate but like i said, vv nice

lovesss to spoil you!! and plus we all know he makes hella bank bc he needs someone to spend it on

shopping dates!! mostly consist of him following you around and you just picking out what you like

if you even look at smth he's already at the register

prefers staying at home dates though, like reading together, cooking together, and movie dates!!

minimizes pda in public- perhaps holds your hand maybe

but in private he is so clingyyyy like you have to tear him off you lip to lip, chest to chest, hip to hip, you name it

you practically hung the stars, you could do no wrong in his eyes

is 50/50 on kids???

he's not going to actively ask you to start a family but he also is totally on board if you want to

we all know this man is under a lot of stress so his favorite way to spend time with you is coming home after a long day and cuddling with you 🩷

he's utterly obsessed with you (he's just good at hiding it)

takuma ino 🌸

THIS IS LITERALLY MY HUSBAND GUYS- HEAR ME OUT

high school sweethearts but y'all broke up right before graduation

you guys adored eachother but he was scared of losing you once you guys became sorcerers ಥ_ಥ

but fear not! you guys got back together a year- 2 years later bc he's in love with u

he wanted to propose as soon as you got back together but he has more common sense than that

when he does though it's so cutieee

def private and small, just like the wedding. only your closest friends and family, because he wants everything to be perfect

loves fun dates like laser-tag, go-carts, ect. bc he is just a big little kid

if you do missions together, he is literally that scene from hotel transylvania: "that's my girlfriend!" "your wife, ino..." "my wife? even better!"

i'm not even gonna sugarcoat it y'all get pregnant immediately after

ino is def terrified. you guys are both young and you've barely been married for 3 months

but he pulls it together obv and y'all have a cutie little son <3

just like yuuji, he gushes about his little family to nanami constantly (kento acts like he hates it but he finds it endearing)

he reads to your son for bedtime every night WITHOUT FAIL

he always thinks about how he wouldn't have things any other way.

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ i wrote this in like 2 hours and i have a chem quiz tommorow i hope u guys like it 😿😿(pls love me) BUT I GET TO SEE MY MAN TOMMORROW AHHHH. sorry i'm not gonna shut up about himmm. ok bye stay hot ily guys sm!!!!

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲 ♡

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𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚!

𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙡0𝙫3𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖143 2024

[ennabear]

vampire!ellie

synopsis: you met ellie in your university’s ancient library, you were just trying to study and ellie couldn’t help but talk to you. it drove her crazy, the scent of your blood. usually, she didn’t even notice the scent on others. she was so used to it that it didn’t bother her anymore. but you were different, sweeter.

cw: kinda like a mix between tlou and twilight, mentions of witchcraft and hanging, vampire!abby being a ladykiller literally, papa vampire!joel, mama vampire!tess, newlyweds vampire!jesse and dina, dina’s transformation, lotsssss of backstory like i seriously couldn’t stop myself from yapping. not proofread sorry :((((((

a/n: i’m definitely gonna make a series out of this. sorry if this is wayyy too long but i have a special place in my heart for vamp!ellie and her sweet vampire family. ok that’s all ily thanks for reading.

wc: 2.2k

you shouldn’t be walking alone at night, really. campus was a sketchy place. a plethora of bad things could happen. you could get kidnapped, jumped, pickpocketed, or, hell, even bitten by a vampire.

the library had the same scent it always did. it smelled like dust and paper. in all honesty, you didn’t prefer it here. although it was beautiful, tall windows lined with stained glass, large bookshelves with every book you’d ever want, every word you could imagine and more, it was just so eerie. something bad was bound to happen here.

anyways, you settled down at the table in the corner. the one farthest away from anyone else. you’d rather be at home right now, studying in bed. it’s only because your roommate invited her stupid boyfriend over that you ended up here. it’s for the better anyway, though, because in bed you wouldn’t get anything done. you’d be too distracted.

you had your priorities written on your palm, the pen now smudged, making it barely readable. writing on your palm was easier, more convenient than a post-it note. but you wrote it down on paper anyways, incase you sweated more of it off before you finished. it wasn’t likely you would, though. the library was freezing, especially in the winter.

the clack of your fingers typing in your laptop password was the only thing to be heard. everyone else was dead silent. this was probably the only thing you liked about the library, everybody agreed on an unspoken rule, make the least amount of noise possible. you got started with completing your essay after shuffling your playlist, determined to finish by the end of the night.

that’s when she saw you.

or, smelled you? your scent was so strong, it hit ellie hard. her vision went dark and splotchy, and she had to grip onto the table for support. her pearly white hands making a dent in the table with how hard she was holding.

you had to be her next meal. she had to find some way to get you alone and suck your veins dry. it scared her, the thoughts she was having. her intentions weren’t to murder you, but she was starving now. you had unknowingly gotten her high on your scent.

she didn’t even know where you were. were you outside? down the hall? in the library? fuck, right next to her? her head was hurting now, really, really badly. but she needed you even worse.

picking up a random book, she used the most brainpower she could to sniff you out. then, she really saw you. headphones in your ears, your hands typing away at something that won’t even matter soon. soon, she’ll have your body in her arms, hopefully in the comfort of her own home. your neck dripping a puddle on the floor as she relentlessly drank from you, your skin growing cold and your lips turning purple.

her docs made silent footsteps across the floor as she walked toward you. this was something ellie learned to master, silence. especially when she went into hunting mode. nobody looked at her as she expertly dodged the creaks in the old wooden floor. nobody saw her coming. especially you. you never saw ellie williams coming.

“hey, is it okay if i sit here?”

“….sorry, what was that?” you scrambled to pause your music.

“can i sit here?”

“oh. yeah, sure. go ahead.”

you went back to typing, not continuing your music incase she wanted to talk. you really hoped she didn’t. you needed to finish your essay. and you weren’t much of a people person either.

“what are you writing?” she asked.

“just an essay, nothing interesting.”

“oh, cool.”

she started reading the book she picked up before sniffing you out. she didn’t bother to look at the title. or read any of the words either. really, she was just staring at it, her mind racing. she needed to come up with something interesting, something to make you like her.

while she stared at the words, you couldn’t help but stare at her. your fingers came to a complete stop as you admired this stranger across from you. she didn’t even introduce herself, how strange. her hair was a dark brown, her eyes black. her face was incredibly smooth. skin paler than ever, she looked as if she was a marble statue, like she belonged in a museum.

and she was reading twilight, of all books. although, you liked the book, it seemed ironic for her, like she was too mature for it. this beautiful stranger was sitting across from you, her eyebrows pulled together in frustration while she chewed on the inside of her cheek. she seemed furious at something, but at the same time, hard to read.

you were almost scared of her, but intrigued above all else.

“do you like that book?” you asked.

“twilight? yeah. it’s okay. i’ve read it a few times.”

“hmm. it’s a classic.”

“it’s not bad. but i’ve read a lot of books. this one doesn’t come close to the others.”

“so you read a lot? how come i’ve never seen you before?”

“i’m usually hiding. i don’t prefer to engage with others if i can help it.”

“yeah, that explains it.”

she got lucky. thank god, if there even is one, that she grabbed a book you knew about. that you started a conversation with her. she thought it was the most stupid book on earth. it was filth, pure mormon fanfiction. and it was completely wrong.

“why are you here so late? it’s almost midnight.” you asked.

“i could ask you the same question.” she responded.

“i have a lot of work i’ve been procrastinating on. if i could choose, i’d be at home. but my roommate’s boyfriend is there and i can’t stand being in the same building as them.”

“i don’t really know why i’m here. i just like to meet new people i guess.”

“i thought you didn’t like talking to people.”

“that’s different. you’re different.”

“how so? you don’t know who i am, and i don’t even know your name.”

she stared at you blankly. you had her trapped. she suddenly realized that maybe you were harder to get than she expected. maybe you wanted to play this game.

“i’m ellie. it’s short for elizabeth but i hate that name. it’s too common, i’m sick of hearing it.”

“elizabeth is beautiful.”

“thanks. you sound like my parents.”

lie. she didn’t know her parents anymore. they had abandoned her hundreds of years ago after suspecting she was a witch because she refused to get married to a man at only seventeen. after a few years, she was hung.

it wasn’t until her new father, joel, took up an investigation of what happened to poor elizabeth. he ended up traveling to their old village and finding her grave after tracing her obituary back to a newspaper published in 1579.

shed been dead for years. joel was the one who brought her back to life. he injected his venom into her long rotten arms and took her in for the seven years it took for her to come back fully. he saved her. he taught her how to walk, how to speak, how to hunt. joel miller was her new father.

joel used to be a police officer. in 1712, he ran into a poor woman, bleeding and begging for his help. claiming that her husband had turned to satan and was now possessed. the woman had been bitten, she eventually would turn into ellie’s mother, tess. joel got bitten too. all three of them spent the next years as newborns in that small cabin, feasting on whoever was unfortunate enough to wander by.

the woman’s husband didn’t survive. he was caught by a clan of christians and burned alive, leaving just joel and tess, who couldn’t help but fall in love. they adopted more kids before and after ellie too.

abigail was the first. she was living alone in the appalachian mountains, feasting on whoever wandered after sundown. leading poor girls, desperate for a good time, into her bed and then eating them whole. abigail often hung out at lesbian bars. the girls who went home with her never came back. a bartender joked with her about this once, the bartender didn’t come back, either.

joel heard about abigail through the only other coven that lived in washington. they said she was a monster, a relentless murderer trapped in a goddesses body. that she could hold the whole world on her shoulders but couldn’t refrain from eating innocent girls who were cheating on their husbands.

abby and ellie were never really good friends, but they tried. abby preferred to keep to herself. usually either reading or climbing a mountain with her bare hands. and she refused to find a long-term lover. ellie was almost the opposite. she preferred more modern things, like making music and fast cars. and she loved to flirt with girls.

jesse came after ellie. he was born more recently, in 1878. he was dying of a disease nobody knew about. they didn’t have the right knowledge or technology to save him, so they quarantined him in a hospital room until he died. he didn’t, though. joel saved his life. the hospital staff were horrified after seeing the blood stained floor, the splatters over the walls, and more importantly, the fact that jesse’s body was nowhere to be found.

jesse had a wife now, named dina. she met him in 1983 at a prestigious fashion school. jesse had already been to tons of colleges. neither of them aged. they never changed. they were all trapped. after studying medicine, law, physics, engineering, and marketing, he wanted a change.

that’s when he met dina. she was a beautiful woman, deep tan skin, dark eyes, long black hair and eyelashes. and she had such a knack for fashion. jesse was in love, it took him a long while before he came clean to dina about who he was. she was so in love with him too, she didn’t mind it, and she certainly wasn’t scared. dina was never scared of anything.

so they got married. and the night after their wedding, they flew to a private island joel owned for their “honeymoon”. aka, dina’s transformation. they were gone for almost three years. jesse kept a journal of everything that happened to her.

july 12, 1989. i did it. i held her so gently in my arms and sank my teeth into her neck. she was screaming, i know she was in pain, but she’ll never admit it. before she fell asleep, i drank a few of her tears and then closed her eyes. she’ll be twenty six for the rest of her life, until the earth stops spinning. i hope she can forgive me.

december 31, 1989. joel, i got your letter. she’s been doing okay. i can’t stop looking at her, her perfect curves and her deep brown hair. i think it was for the better that i took her dress off before we started, she designed it, it was so beautiful. i know she’d get upset about the red staining the expensive white satin. it’s still here, waiting for her. the year is about to end, we still have quite a few months until she awakes. i’m scared. not of her, of myself. am i a murderer? did i, a cold-blooded demon, destroy a perfect, innocent life? will she remember me?

august 27, 1990. it’s been over a year. nothing, but i know it’s coming. i’ve been holding her head on my lap, stroking her hair. i haven’t moved from this position in three months. she is so beautiful. i redressed her in the outfit she designed for this occasion, it suits her well. a part of me regrets this decision. i wish i could grow old with her, maybe have kids someday. sit on the porch while or grandchildren play in the yard. her eyes wrinkling with the smile she always flashes me. this will never happen. it’s just a dream.

november 16, 1990. she is awake. so much screaming. she’s in pain. won’t even look at me. she is thirsty. will bring her some bird blood to quench her thirst.

november 21, 1990. she only sits and stares at a wall, rocking back and forth. her eyes are white now. don’t know if she is okay. or if she will survive. her throat burns. if she goes, i go.

february, 1991. don’t know what day it is, she has calmed down. she didn’t remember anything at first. not me, not her name, nothing. she remembers now, though. hopefully we can come home this year. i still don’t know if i trust her enough around people. if she is caught, she’ll be burned. if she goes, i go.

may 18, 1991. traveled to a near by island. i taught her how to swim, she loves it. she’s so surprised that she can hold her breath infinitely. she is so beautiful, it’s like falling in love with her all over again. there were people at the island, it was a small village. they were kind, but we had to leave early. i don’t want to push her limits, but she did exceptionally well.

october 4, 1991. on our way home. starting this life forever with her. i hope she can forgive me.

[orangecarton]

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Nordic Bunny x Reader WP Pt3 (W.I.P.)

The rest of the day went by relatively quickly. You listened to Nordic Bunny rant about Shred Force, his amazing plan, and how awesome he is. Surprisingly, you didn't get tired of hearing him talk. He had interesting things to say! You didn't have to justify your actions. You simply liked listening to him!

You did, however, get sleepy. It's safe to assume Nordic Bunny noticed because he made it known, loudly.

"Quit dozing off! Is what I am saying not INTERESTING enough for your HUMAN BRAIN?!... Do you need more food? Are you broken?!"

For a moment you could've sworn he was worried and was fussing over you... nahhhh

"Yeah I'm good, just tired."

You yawn and sluggishly shrug of his questions.

"Go ahead and tell me more about uhhhh... robots?"

He moves his face closer to yours and stares at you for a split second, as if to inspect it for lies. After finding nothing he smiles and leans back, you didn't notice the small bit of blush on his face.

"OF COURSE! I knew that!!"

You both sat in silence for a bit. Ultimately, you broke the quiet atmosphere with a yawn,

"Hey not to overstep, but like, do you got... a bed or something?"

He looks puzzled and goes off to the side, talking with himself.

"Hmmm, well... there's... uhh no no... hmmmm."

He turns back around to face you, looks you up and down.

"Hmmmm, I guess I'll just have to get one of my minions to make up somewhere for you to sleep!"

You sleepily nod, not entirely aware of what's going on around you. Nordic Bunny strides to the exit to leave, presumably to get one of his minions to do his bidding. As he's walking away he notices the lack of your presence next to him. Having dragged you around all day he had unconsciously moved to grab your arm only for it to not be there. Turning back around to where you are now dozing off he picks you up around your torso and carries you with one arm on his side. Your arms and legs are dangling a couple feet in the air, given his height. But despite that you are actually quite comfortable.

In time you find yourself falling asleep, not being able to fight off the exhaustion you had.

You wake up to the "peaceful" uproar of shouting and a lazer being blasted.

"I SAID BE QUIET!!!"

Ah, Nordic...

"CAN'T YOU SEE THEY ARE TRYING TO SLEEP?! How can I get intel if my human isn't rested up, because you NIMRODS are being TOO LOUD?!"

The yelling is followed by a couple more blasts. Being fully rested, you get up and take in the new room.

Kinda similar to Nordic Bunny's war room, there is definitely a huge red them going on. Different kinds of circuit boards and tubes line the walls, no visible windows, and it sorta looks like they just cleared out a walk in closet and set up a bed (no galvanized steel or eco friendly wood veneers anywhere). Speaking of, the bed you are resting on is a standard twin sized bed with cherry red sheets with matching pillows and a scarlet comforter. Nice.

"OH, you're awake!"

You turn your face to see Nordic Bunny's face wayyy too close to yours.

"Uhhh, hey?"

"GOOD MORNING! As the humans say. I'm quite knowledgeable about your human culture, and EVERYTHING ELSE IN THE UNIVERSE!"

"Hm? Oh yeah, good morning."

Is it morning? Oh well, you wouldn't have anyway to check anyway.

"SO!... Uh, how do you like your room?"

Nordic looks to be almost a bit shy when waiting for your approval.

"Oh yeah, no it's cool. Thanks by the way, real nice of you!"

You give him a soft smile and he flusters a moment before proudly posing and standing a bit taller. How can he get even taller?!

"Ah yes well, I AM THE BEST! And I provide only THE BEST for my... friends?"

He seems to think momentarily for that word. Looking to you seeking a reaction.

"Sure, nice going, uh- friend?"

His face lights up and he virtually lunges at you, scooping you up and spinning you in a tight hug.

"BRILLIANT!!"

He stops abruptly and sets you down. You nearly fall over from the dizziness.

"Oh OH! I have something for you, because my AWESOMENESS KNOWS NO BOUNDS."

Oh, and there he goes running down the hall, leaving you alone with your thoughts... You've been getting pretty comfy here. Heck, you even got your own room now. But what about you lofe on Earth? You didn't have much, but the things you did have were yours. Will you ever see your cramped apartment again? Your extremely rude boss? Your friends? Do they even know you're gone?... Do they even care?

Your thinking is interrupted by the sound of shouting and frantic running. Nordic Bunny bursts into the room with a... PHONE?!

"BEHOLD, A HUMAN DEVICE!"

You look up and see Nordic Bunny parading around a small smartphone in his hands and then presents it to you.

"Oh my god! This... this is great! Thank you so much!"

You're not tearing up at all. Nope, nuh uh.

"OF COURSE! You can go ahead and tell me how great and amazing I am!"

He looks smug as you praise him and thank him profusely for everything he's given you... you god damn cornball.

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(Thank you so much for reading and to everybody giving positive feedback and interacting!!! ;^;)

(Sorry this part is a bit late. I had a bit of trouble thinking of what direction I wanted this to go. I got it now tho!!!)

(And now for your designated doodles)

[sukirichi]

oh god this. this was the chapter that got me messed up. there’s so many things i want to say but idk where to start but like. that scene of reader being comforted by everyone (love her parents sm btw) and her friendships with the girls too, they feel more like sisters and their friendships are so pure and genuine. overall, i am very happy over the fact that reader is surrounded by a healthy support system. this is one of those fics that leaves such a deep deep impact on me and i know i’m gonna be thinking about this for days. anyways. first of all, oh my god that scene where reader picks up the call from osamu and it turned out to be kita 😭

and when they finally met at the cafe WAIT NO BEFORE THAT like i love the detail where meeting up in his farm felt too intimate, but also bringing him over to our place just seemed like a no-no. i think its the small details like these that really make up the whole picture. idk for me these things matter and reading that part really had me thinking like ‘hmm makes sense.’ so then the cafe scene RIGHT like that was honestly the last part i read before i lost it because i was sobbing so hard already that everything HURT. chest squeezing, heart aching, soul shattering, mind numbing type of heart. its the way kita is so yearning, yet so understanding that the pain was almost unbearable (it was unbearable, in the best way possible, because i did pass out from how hard i cried.) especially when he said “but we’re supposed to be together”

PLSSS TAKE MY PHONE AWAY FROM ME I WAS BITING ON MY PLUSHIE FR BECAUSE NO WAYYY LIKE i get it, we’re gonna get married, we’re dedicated to aoshi and we made a promise but like !! to him, this soulmate thing was just one of those things he did not question. and the detail on kita’s characterization on how he always held himself with intention and sureness, really drove the nail deep that he was firm in everything he did. this man is not budging. its like atsumu said - if you’re the soulmate, then you’re always going to be the one. its not even a matter of whether the circumstances might be different. kita will always choose you. and the fact that he said he just wanted to be in our life and will not ask for more? my first thought was, “boy, you’re a masochist.” like if that were me, i would straight up leave because ik i would not be able to handle not being chosen by the person MEANT for me, my soulmate. i would simply turn into dust yknow.

but then i sat down and thought about it like, no. he isn’t a masochist, and i think it would be very unfair to his character to call him just that. kita is so so much more. he is so full of love, he has been waiting, he has been very patient and even when things did not go his way, he did not waver. and i think that made me really fall for him more. because how many people do you meet like that who would always, without faltering, keep choosing to take care of you, be good to you, to just LOVE you without anything in return? that’s not masochism, that’s called being a damned angel and kita is perfect. i cannot explain how much i love him. AND that scene where we saw him spacing out in his truck at first before wiping his tears, yeah no i was like 😭 bye goodbye i cannot read this, i need to touch grass. took like an hour break before reading again and then i sobbed, again, over my noodles because its like. i get the reader’s pov, i really do, but my heart goes out to kita. i wish i could comfort him, but my heart belongs to someone else and there’s nothing i can do about it. i’m just really hurt for kita in the sense that it probably never crossed his mind that maybe his soulmate would find someone else when he met them, how eager he must have been only for... it to be like this. but also i get the worry for the statistics - this common prevalance that people might not meet their soulmate at all. there’s this fear that gives way to doubt, that makes you think “will i really wait for someone that might never even arrive?” and god its just so. i am hurting sm 😭 anyways i could honestly say more but i’m crying again so lol. also got my hopes up during that scene where we took a second glance at kita when we parted ways because i thought we were finally falling for him, only to get married to aoshi in the next scene, i was speechless 😭

this is truly a beautiful fic though, all the characters, i loved them. i adored their dynamics. i love how the ‘love’ here goes deeper and beyond romance, and how there’s also compromises, loyalty, and learning to love in all the ways it presents itself. thank you for writing this because i think i just fell harder for kita. the way you write him does justice to his character. i didn’t think it was possible for me to like him even more but i did. but yes omg sorry for the yap, this was just a literal masterpiece, thank you 😭💕

lover be good to me: part two

You meet Kita Shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. You know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. He seems like a good man. Like a good soulmate.

But it’s your wedding day.

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

<- part one - part three ->

pairings: kita shinsuke x f!reader, oc x f!reader

notes: and part two is here! i am once again so excited to be able to share this fic with y'all. thank you again to everyone who has sat thru me yelling at them about this fic—it means the world! and a special thank you to my beta for getting through this beast and getting it into tip-top shape <3

title and part title are from hozier’s “be” and “nfwmb”

tags for this part (contains spoilers for fic): soulmate au (first words), this is a very reader-centric story, slow burn, pining, hurt/comfort, reader and kita are implied to be around their 30s, non-graphic partner death (not kita), anxiety, borderline panic attack, food consumption, love as a choice.

wc: 16k

Shinsuke almost catches you.

You’re still whirling around to run, a jewelry box ballerina wobbling in place desperate to stay on her feet, when his fingers graze your wrist. They’re warm. Callused. They trace along the delicate skin there, sending sparks skittering beneath your skin.

His fingers flex, start to close around your wrist.

But they don’t.

They fall away, until there’s only the ghost of him lingering on your skin. He speaks too, his steady voice almost pleading, but your thrumming heartbeat is filling your ears and echoing inside you, a wild hymn of instinct.

His touch falls away and you’re through the shoji before you realize where you’ve gone. You whip past your friends, their shocked expressions blurring at the edges like watercolors, and into the hallway. 

It hurts to breathe.

You dart into one of the shrine’s empty tea rooms, chest heaving. You slam the shoji shut behind you and sink to the floor, your shiromuku pooling around you, gleaming like moonlight in the dim. You knot your fingers in the fabric. Your fingertips brush over the heavy embroidery, over the graceful sweep of a crane’s wing, and your grip tightens. 

Your chest aches, a bruise of a thing; the red string of fate wound fast around you, your ribs its spindle, cinching tighter with each passing moment. The world wavers. 

You come back to yourself on the other side of the room. You’ve shed your shiromuku; it’s in the middle of the room, an empty husk; a cocoon broken open too early. Your next breath is shaky.

Faintly, you can hear people rushing through the hallway. Their voices wash over you like waves on a distant shore. You bury your face in your hands.

You don’t look up when the door opens. Abe and Yoshikawa have always been able to find you, no matter where you hide.

The door shuts, and then—

“Hi,” Takao says.

You go stiff.

“Hi,” you say, refusing to look up. 

You feel Takao settle next to you; the fabric of his kimono is soft against you. He sets his hand on your knee. He’s warm, as always. It’s the soft heat of freshly washed sheets, of the spring sun’s tender touch. You curl into him. 

It feels like home.

Quiet falls. It settles between the two of you like the night, a shroud of your own making. Takao leans back. He sighs; it sounds like it comes from between the gaps in his ribs, from the very depths of him. 

It sounds like saying goodbye.

“Please don’t leave me,” you say, and you sound small even to yourself.

“I think that’s my line.”

You wonder if the words taste as bitter as they sound. If they linger sour on his tongue. Takao seems to realize it at the same moment, but he doesn’t apologize, and you don’t ask him to.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you say. 

He hums skeptically, low and resonant, and it chips away at your bones, scrapes you down to your very marrow.

“I’m not,” you insist, low and desperate. You barely recognize yourself. But you want to keep Takao, to keep this man you’ve spent years learning, spent years loving. Leaving him would carve you open and Kita may be your soulmate, but even the most careful stitches can’t always keep a wound shut. “We said it didn’t matter.” 

“We did,” he says. “But I think it might.”

“He’s a stranger, Aoshi,” you say. “I don’t know him, not the way I know you. Not the way I love you.”

“It’s different, though, isn’t it?” he asks. “With soulmates.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” 

“But it is.”

You swallow down the sob.

He shifts next to you, giving you more space to curl into him. You take it, burrowing into his side and pressing your face against the soft fabric of his haori. He sighs.

“Do you feel—” he starts. You can feel the way the words rumble in his chest. He stops and runs a hand through his hair; he blows out a big breath. “Do you feel connected to him?”

You bite at your bottom lip. You remember Shinsuke in the sea of silken hydrangeas, the deep blue of them eddying around his legs like the tide as he moved through them. You think of how your eyes had caught on him then. How his companion had faded into the background. 

How well you’d known the taste of his name on your tongue.

“I don’t know,” you say. 

“Yes, then.”

“I don’t know, Aoshi,” you snap. “I don’t know anything except that we were supposed to get married today and now it’s all—”

“Fucked,” he says when you trail off. “It’s all fucked.”

You nod, sniffling miserably. 

“I think we need some space,” he says.

“From?”

“Each other.” 

You pull away from him.

“What?”

“I think we need some space from each other,” he repeats. He’s not looking at you, his dark eyes focused straight ahead, as if he can see through the shoji and find all the answers right there. 

You want to shake him.

“I don’t need space from you,” you bite out. “I need you.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he says. “I need space from you.”

“Aoshi, what? Please, I don’t understand.”

He blinks. His eyelashes are wet; they’re clumping together. There’s a stray one caught on his cheek like a dandelion seed. You catch yourself before you reach for it.

“You have a choice to make,” he says. “And I don’t think I can watch you do it.”

“My choice is you!”

He looks at you, then. He looks at you, his eyes night-sky dark, and there is something terribly tender to him when he says, “I don’t think you know that yet.” 

You sob. 

It’s pulled from somewhere deep inside you, an animal sound that you didn’t know you were capable of making, something that lives behind your bones. It guts you, that sob, flays you open from neck to navel. 

Takao sucks in a sharp breath. His hand flexes by his side. You sob again, softer this time, but no less wounded for it. 

“You’re not being fair,” you tell him. 

“Neither are you.”

You grit your teeth, wondering if there’s such a thing as fairness, in a moment like this. You think it’s unlikely. 

“You don’t get to make my choice for me,” you snap.

“There are no choices being made today,” says a new voice, and you close your eyes as your mother’s perfume wafts around you. She smells of summer irises and the honeyed earth of saffron, and you breathe her in as she gathers you into her arms.

You curl up into her, a child once more, and start to cry in earnest.

“Go,” she says to Takao. If she says anything else, you can’t hear it over your own sobs, over the great, gasping breaths wracking your body. 

You feel Takao leave, the warmth of him fading away, and it takes everything you have to not reach out to him. You sob again, choking on his name.

“Oh, tadpole,” your mother says. She presses a kiss to your temple. “Let him go for now.”

“I’m supposed to be getting married,” you tell her.

“I know, tadpole.”

“Why is this happening?”

She cradles you close. “I wish I knew.”

“You said—”

“I know.”

“Mama,” you murmur. “Mama, what do I do?”

“I don’t know, tadpole,” she says, and you feel one of her hands shift to press against her stomach, to cradle her own soulmark’s blackened kanji. “I don’t know.”

You turn your face into the crook of her neck and cry all over again.

She hums to you, soft and soothing, but lets you cry your fill. She pets at your back, her strong hand firm, keeping you grounded in your own skin. 

Your sobs have just started to abate when the phone rings.

It cuts through the heavy air of the tearoom like a knife. Both of you jolt with it, and you furrow your brow. It’s a classic ringtone, the one all phones come with, and you immediately know whose phone it is.

You push yourself up and out of your mother’s arms glancing to where your shiromuku still lays, a collapsed chrysalis. You chew on your lower lip but go to it, kneeling in front of the beautiful fabric and picking it up carefully until you can see Shinsuke’s utilitarian flip phone. It jingles, the ringtone continuing, and you reach for it with trembling fingers.

Miya Osamu, the lit screen reads. 

You sit with the phone cupped softly in your hands, your pulse thrumming. You trace a finger over the edge of it. 

You flip it open before you can convince yourself otherwise.

“Hello?” you ask.

“You picked up,” Shinsuke says.

You suck in a sharp breath. You had known, but it’s so different hearing his voice. The steadiness of it, even though the edges of it sound worn down. 

“I did.”

“I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Me neither,” you confess. 

“Are you alright?”

 You close your eyes. This would all be so much easier if he wasn’t good. But you know he is—you can hear it in his voice, in how earnestly he asks.

“Not really,” you say. The least you can do is give him the truth. “I assume you need your phone back?”

He goes quiet. You listen to him breathe and something in you aches, like a healing bruise being pressed. You wish you were better, that you were kinder, that you could handle this with grace instead of inelegantly side-stepping it. 

“Yes,” he says. “And I’d like to talk.”

You bite your lip. “Yeah,” you say. “We probably should.”

The two of you agree to meet in the tearoom in thirty minutes which is good, because even with your shiromuku shed, the kimono you wear is clearly wedding garb. It’s beautiful in its simplicity, stark white and painstakingly stitched, and you desperately need to be out of it.

It’s your mother who helps you disrobe, her fingers careful as she unwraps the pristine obi, the gossamer fabric as delicate as a spider’s web gleaming in the low light of the room. You stare out the window as the attendant takes it and folds it up for storage. She’s glancing at you occasionally, her dark eyes wide, and you wonder what she’ll tell the people she knows. How she’ll spin the story of your misfortune. If she will tell it as a blessing instead.

The obi is followed by the kimono itself slipping from your shoulders like water, and your mother brushes a hand against your cheek before she hands you your street clothing. She and the attendant leave you to remove the rest yourself. You leave the nagajuban pooled on the floor as you dress. 

Once you’re dressed you wander over to your kimono, carefully hung next to your shiromuku. The attendant has smoothed most of the wrinkles from the silk, and you trace a finger over the long lines of it. 

You wonder if you’ll ever get to wear it again.

By the time the attendant returns to retrieve the garments you’re sitting by the window, staring out into the pouring rain. The lush plants of the courtyard—heavy, ruffled ferns with massive fronds and vining shrubs with blossoms like little stars dotted between verdant leaves—sway under its touch, dancing to a tune that only nature knows. 

Behind you, the shoji clicks open and shut.

You turn around.

Shinsuke gives you a soft smile. It’s wan, but there’s still a sweetness to it somehow. His hat is gone; his gray hair gleams silver in the light, the black tips all the darker for it, and you think again of thunderclouds. 

“You’ve been crying,” he says, his brow furrowed, and that almost sends you into a fresh wave of tears. 

You let out a watery laugh. “A bit,” you admit. “It’s fine, though.”

He watches you, those vulpine eyes shining. He clearly doesn’t agree. 

“Here,” you say, reaching out. “Your phone.”

He moves closer and takes it from you with quiet thanks. He lingers there and you bite your bottom lip, trying to figure out what to even say to him. 

“I’m sorry for running,” you say.

He smiles, soft and sad. “I understand.”

“I just—I don’t even know where to start.”

“That’s alright,” he says calmly. “We have time.”

We. He says it so easily. Your stomach roils.

“I can’t,” you say. “I can’t do this.”

Shinsuke’s expression doesn’t change, but he’s different suddenly, like a guttering flame finally blowing out. You swallow down a sob. 

“I understand if you need space,” he says. It’s barely there, a wisp of a thing, but there’s pain in his voice. “I know this isn’t easy.”

Your laugh is wild at the edges, an unraveling stitch. “If we’d met an hour later, I would have been married.” 

His fingers flex. 

“I just—” you catch yourself as your voice cracks. Your lips are tingling; you bite down on the bottom one to make it stop. “I can’t do this right now. Please. Shinsuke, please.”

The tilt of his lips is edged with sorrow. “It’s fine,” he tells you. “We’ll trade phone numbers for now.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

He nods. You trade phones, his fingers sweeping over your palm. They’re callused, rough against your skin, and you feel the ghost of them long after he’s drawn back. When you take your phone back, you’re careful to keep from touching him. 

Kita Shinsuke, his contact reads, and you can’t help saying it aloud, letting your tongue roll over each inch of his full name now that you know it. 

Shinsuke—no, you think, he’s Kita, stranger that he is to you—smiles. He says your name too, his voice soft like the spring sun. Your stomach churns. 

“Thanks,” you say, drawing back into yourself, curling up like a fern frond. “We’ll—we’ll talk soon.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, but he must see something in your face because he simply nods. There’s something you can’t quite understand tucked up secret in the corner of his mouth. 

“Alright,” he says. “Soon.” 

He glances back at you once, just before he disappears into the hallway. 

The shoji has barely clicked shut behind him when it’s opened again and Abe and Yoshikawa tumble into the room. They sweep you into their arms without a word and your knees give out. They cradle you as they lower you to the floor, and Yoshikawa hums quietly as you knot your fingers in their kimonos. 

“C’mon,” Abe says, the gentlest you’ve ever heard her. “Let’s get you home.” 

“Aoshi’s not there,” you sob. 

Yoshikawa’s grip tightens. 

“That’s fine,” she says, as steady as the sun’s rise, “because we will be.” 

***

You wake to sunlight streaming in through your window. It cradles you like a lover, plays gently over your face, and you wrinkle your nose. 

“Aoshi,” you grumble, “you forgot to close the curtains last night.”

There’s no response.

You crack an eye open, peering to the other side of the bed only to find it empty. When you press your hand against the worn cotton sheet, it’s cold. 

It all comes pouring back in, a riptide of memories washing over you like a stormy sea. 

“Oh,” you say quietly, curling up so that your knees are pressed against your chest. You blink back the tears. “Right.” 

The sunlight thickens, pools like molten gold around you, and you turn your face up to it, a winter flower searching for warmth. You don’t know how long you stay like that; you’re only roused by the faint sound of clattering in the kitchen followed by the purr of your coffee maker. The scent of it fills the house, and you put on your house slippers.

When you enter the kitchen your father is snipping away at your neglected bonsai, trimming the needles back with careful, sure hands. He glances up at you. 

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi,” he says. “You’re terrible at taking care of this.” 

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, putting down the pruning shears. “Did you sleep?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good.” 

“Yeah,” you say, and quiet falls. 

His lips have a faint downward tilt as he watches you, like a waning moon. He sighs, thumbing at the soil of the bonsai. There’s a flash of his soulmark, blackened into a charcoal smear, a gravestone all its own. Your eyes catch on it.

“Did you love your soulmate more?” you ask. “Was it better with her?”

“Oh, tadpole,” your father says. He comes over and takes your hand, squeezing it lightly. “It was different. Not better, not worse. Just different.” 

“But did you love her more?”

“I loved her differently.”

“You keep saying that, but what does it mean?” you ask, pulling away from him. “Either you loved her more or you didn’t!” 

He sighs. “It isn’t that easy,” he tells you.

“It is!” 

“It isn’t, tadpole.”

“It has to be.”

“It’s not black and white when it comes to soulmates,” he says gently. “You know that.”

“I want it to be,” you whisper. “It’d be easier.” 

“It would be,” he agrees. “It would be.” 

“I don’t know what to do.”

He sighs. “You don’t have to know, not right this minute.”

“What if I never know?”

He hums, picking up the pruning shears again. He brushes a soft hand over the bonsai tree, tracing over a winding branch, his fingers reverent against the old bark. A few blue-green needles come loose, pattering down to the counter. He sets the pruning shears against a branch and the blades flash, catching the light as they come together. He catches the little branch as it falls. 

When he looks up, he looks right past you. You think of early morning mist, how it swallows a person down.

“You will,” he says.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. His gaze flickers to you and when he smiles, it feels like something you aren’t meant to see.

The coffee pot gurgles. It breaks the spell and your father’s smile warms at the edges, smoothing out the tender gash of his mouth. 

“I made it the way you like it,” he says. “I thought you might need it.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I think I do.”

You’re halfway through your first cup when your mother emerges, already fully dressed for the day. She looks you over from head to toe and her face softens, goes sweet at the edges. 

“Did you sleep?” she asks.

You nod.

“Good.” 

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“The shrine,” she says.

You wince.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Take care of what?”

“There’s a soulmate clause in the contract,” she says carefully. “They’re required to refund you. Mei is meeting me though, and she thinks the clause is loosely worded enough that she can get them to hold a different day for you instead, if you’d like. It’ll likely be a less auspicious rokuyo day, but—”

“But if I marry Aoshi, it might be the best I can get.”

She nods. “At least you’ll have options.”

“I guess. Mei’s going?”

Mei is an old friend of your mother’s and one of her prime sources for her study, a veritable treasure trove of data. She’s made for the courtroom, tiny and calm and whip-smart, and her grasp of soulmate law—tricky at the best of times, highly scrutinized as it is—is unparalleled. 

“Yes,” she says. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.”

She comes over to you and cups your cheek. You lean into the touch, into the saffron scent lingering on her skin. “You aren’t alone, tadpole,” she murmurs. 

You close your eyes. “I know.”

She pats your cheek lightly. “Good,” she says. 

You miss her warmth when she pulls away. 

She takes her purse from your father; they murmur to each other. Your father leans forward to press his forehead against hers and you look away. 

The door clicks shut behind her, and your father starts to hum, low and off-key. The quiet, off-beat snick of the shears accompanies him. It’s like being a child all over again, and you settle into the hazy familiarity of it. 

The morning stretches on. Yoshikawa and Abe appear during your second cup of coffee, and they drag you out to the new cafe you’ve been meaning to try. It’s a creperie filled with hazy pinks and soft greens, the warm air scented sweet. The three of you squish into a small booth as you have so many times before.

They keep you busy, plying you with sugary crepes dipped in rich, thick chocolate and decorated with fresh, perfectly red strawberries. They’re cut into little fans, pressed softly into the chocolate, almost like small flowers in the dough. The three of you peel them out of their paper cones, licking at your fingertips like little kids. You swap flavors, trading bite for bite.

You close your eyes as you reclaim your own crepe from Abe, sinking into the taste of it, letting the sugar wash everything away. Abe laughs, loud and bright, accompanied by the low purr of Yoshikawa’s voice. You let the sound of them encompass you and wonder how you ever got so lucky.

You check your phone as you leave the creperie. You bite at your cheek as your phone screen comes to life, Takao’s little smile carving out a piece of your heart. It’s an old photo from when you first got together, and it’s still a favorite even after all these years. 

Abe takes your free hand and squeezes it softly. She doesn’t say anything, but then again she doesn’t need to. 

There’s still no message when you go home. Dusk is falling, the last fingers of sunlight playing across the horizon, and you hesitate on your own doorstep. Yoshikawa coaxes you inside with a firm hand on your back. When you glance back at her, her dark eyes are sharp but kind. 

Once you’re inside, you can’t decide what is worse: Takao not being home, or the fact that he was. His favorite jacket is missing from the closet; his to-go mug isn’t by the coffee machine. One of the dresser drawers is still cracked open. 

Yoshikawa and Abe talk to you, but you can’t quite hear them. They bundle you onto the couch and stay until late, when you finally shake the cobwebs from your thoughts. Abe bites her lip when you shoo them out the door, but she goes without a fight. 

The house is quiet as you get ready for bed. The bed feels vast, too big for just you. You reach for your phone perched carefully on the nightstand, untangling the charger from the trailing vines of the pothos it’s by so you can pull it closer. You squint against the brightness, texting Takao a simple good night.

He doesn’t reply.

You hadn’t known the living could haunt, but you go to sleep curled up around a ghost. 

***

You go back to work. 

There’s still days left of your soulmate leave, but you need the distraction. You ignore the quiet whispers and bury yourself beneath a new project. Caught up in your work you float through the day, only coming up for air when your phone vibrates. You snatch it up each time, but it’s only stray notifications—a news alert; a pop-up saying that the recipe blog Yoshikawa likes updated; your IC card balance. 

It’s never what you want it to be.

It carries on for two days; each day you wait for the ping of Takao’s text, but you receive nothing.  On the second day you wrap up your day late, staying behind to finish off a few notes on the new project. It’s not as if you have anything better to do.

The sun has set by the time you’re on your way home. The city has bloomed into a neon wonderland, little shocks of color blazing through the night. You watch a black cat scuttle across the sidewalk, its fur glinting fuschia from the nearby izakaya’s sign.

Your neighborhood is quieter but it still has the hum of the city to it, a familiar song. There’s a sweet scent on the breeze, courtesy of the night-blooming flowers that coat the building next to yours. You trace your fingertips over a delicate petal. It’s silken against your skin, and you sigh, turning to your home before coming to a quick halt. 

Golden light is slanting out your kitchen window. It pools warmly on the ground, and you suck in a harsh breath, almost running to your door. It opens with a click. You step inside and for a moment, the genkan looks undisturbed. But then you see Takao’s shoes tucked carefully into the getabako; his house slippers are missing. There’s a quiet rustle from the kitchen’s direction.

You slip off your shoes and drop your bag into its place.

“Hello?” you call out, wincing at how timid you sound. 

The rustling stops. It starts again, and Takao rounds the corner just a few seconds later. 

“Hi,” he says shyly. “You’re home late.” 

“Worked late,” you say. “You’re back.”

“I am.”

You’re across the room in seconds, and he wraps you up in his arms as you barrel into him. 

“Please stay,” you say, knotting the soft cotton of his shirt up in your fingers. You can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest. Something in you warms. “Please.”  

He cups the nape of your neck, the warm span of his palm soft against the tender flesh there. You breathe him in, still nestled in tightly against him. 

“You didn’t respond to me,” you murmur. 

“I said I needed space.” 

“It was just a good night text.”

“Let’s not do this,” he says. 

Something in you wants to drag it out. To make him hurt the way you hurt. But you bite back on that part of you, swallow the poison down. 

“Are you staying?”

He sighs and you go very, very still. 

“I am.”

You slump into him with a sigh of relief. He cradles you close.

“You scared me,” you tell him. 

“I know.”

“Don’t do it again.”

“I’ll try not to.” 

“Good.”

“You know, this is what I was afraid of, all those years ago,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss against your hairline. “That I wouldn’t be able to let you go if your soulmate came. And that I’d have to worry about you leaving me.”

“How many times are you going to make me say it?” you ask, gritting your teeth. “I’ve told you, I’m not leaving you.”

“You might.”

“We’ve been together for years,” you say, pulling back so you can meet his dark eyes. “He’s a stranger. He wants an idea, not me. Not really. So no, I’m not.”  

He sweeps his thumb over the apple of your cheek. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to.

You kiss him then, a featherlight brush of your lips that lasts for just a breath before you pull back. He cups your jaw and chases you. He kisses you again. Deeper, more solid. When he pulls back, you open your eyes and look at him.

“I’m not, Aoshi,” you say. “I know. Trust me.”

He watches you. His eyes remind you of a summer’s night, encompassing and pitch-black, but warm. Always warm. He searches your face, his gaze so intent that it feels physical.

He nods.

You let out a low, soft breath.

Now you have to talk to Kita.

***

It takes time.

Your work’s soulmate leave is generous, but Kita is at the whim of his farm. The rice paddies don’t care about soulmates nor do they pay attention to weekends. And devoted as he is, he heeds their call, nature his kindest mistress.

It makes you think of Toyooka. You know the song of the fields, the rustle of the rice in the countryside breeze, an age-old tune that’s sunk into the soil. This close to harvest the verdant fields go Midas-touched, gilded with the sweetest hint of gold.

You wonder what Kita’s farm looks like. If it looks like the summers of your youth. If he sits on the engawa in the hot months, eating crisp watermelon down to the white bone of the rind, juice dripping sticky down his fingers. If the taste curls thick on his tongue, sweet with the countryside’s unique freedom.

He’d offered his farm as a meeting point early on, but without a car it’s too far. It’s too personal as well. He’s sown into the soil there, living in each grain he’s tended to. You think his hands were kind against the rice shoots, his long, thick fingers careful as he planted them. 

It’s too much, the idea of being surrounded by him. 

Your home is out of the question because it’s not just yours. 

You couldn’t do that to Takao, not when he’s stitched into every seam of your home. He’s in every atom of it—the slight imprint of his form in the memory foam mattress; his toothbrush, half-flattened by how hard he brushes, tucked neatly into a cup by the sink; the photos that line the walls, a tapestry of silken years woven together. 

It’s also the one thing Takao’s asked of you.

(“Don’t bring him here,” he says one night, his voice flat. 

You pause in the middle of drying a dish. He holds out the next, still soaked to the point that it’s dripping on the floor, and you hurry to finish. It almost slips through your fingers when he lets it go.

“I wouldn’t,” you say fiercely, even though you’d thought about it for one brief second. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Okay.”

“Do you think I would do that to you?” you ask him, setting the dish onto the rack. He hands you another, and you take it without thought. 

Takao blinks. He turns to look at you, and his expression is beautiful and terrible, a tender underbelly flayed open.

“No,” he says. “I don’t, not really. I just want this home to have always been ours. Just ours. I just—wanted to be sure, I guess.” 

You reach out and cup his face, cradling it between your palms. “It is,” you tell him. “It’s just ours. It’ll always be ours.”

He considers you. “Good,” he says, and he catches your hand in his. He turns his head; he presses a kiss against your palm. It’s devout, that brush of softness from his lips against the ley lines of your skin, as if he’s an acolyte at your altar, laying offerings at your feet.

The two of you press together for a moment, the warmth of his lips searing through your skin to settle in your bones. You take up his hand and press your own kiss to the center of his palm. His eyes go half-mast, and you can feel his smile against your skin. 

He pulls back. Squeezes your hand softly, and then he’s turning back to the sink, already reaching for another dish. 

You stand there for a moment. Your hand has gone cold without the heat of his skin. You flex your fingers, trying to make sense of the dread creeping over you. 

Takao glances at you. He smiles, sweet and fleeting, a dandelion tuft caught in the breeze. For a breath, you’re in high school again, gazing at a boy you’ve never spoken to but spent hours with, the two of you balanced on a precipice. And then the past fades, until you are left with who Takao is now. With who he has become to you.

You smile back, and then take the next plate he hands you.

It’s easy, after that. He washes, and you dry, a rhythm you’d know anywhere. Takao is swaying, humming along with the radio, and he laughs when you start to sway with him, your hips bumping each time. 

He doesn’t bring Kita up again.)

With both your homes off-limits, you’re back to square one.

Finally, Kita decides to drive to you. 

You choose a little coffee shop on the outskirts of the city, both to shorten the drive for Kita and for its familiarity, a cradle of comfort for a conversation you’ll never truly be ready to have.  

It’s a charming place, more rustic than modern with little wooden tables and shelves draped with plants, their lush vines hanging down behind the counter. It’s always warm, the sunlight streaking through the windows to paint the counters golden. The shop is studded with flowers too, bright buds spilling over the lip of water pitchers in a froth of color. Coffee is heavy on the air but a note of sweetness threads through it, a sugary bite of fruit. The pastries are made in-house and you know they’re sinfully good, little melt-in-your mouth slices of heaven. 

You’ve eaten three since getting here. You’re on your second drink too having gulped down the first one—scalding your tongue in the process—so quickly that even the barista had seemed surprised. 

It’s your own fault, really—you were almost a full half hour early. With nothing to do but wait, you’re all tangled up in yourself. 

The woman tapping away on her laptop in the corner pauses to eye you warily as you shred another napkin. You’d folded this one into a lopsided origami bird before beheading it. You send her a polite smile; she turns back to her laptop without a word.

You try to make another origami animal but you can’t remember any other patterns. You could make an army of birds you suppose, but after the fifth one you run out of napkins. When you consider getting more, the look on the barista’s face keeps you in your seat. You slouch down into it, your cheeks warm.

You look up just as Kita enters, the little bell at the top of the door chiming quietly. He finds you instantly, his amber eyes settling on you as soon as he’s through the door. He smiles, warm like the spring sun, his eyes crinkling with it. 

He’s as handsome as you remember, leanly muscled with broad shoulders and casually graceful as he walks to your table. In the cafe lighting his gray hair goes silvery, bright against the black tips of it, and you think of a moon being eclipsed.

“Hello,” Kita says, holding out a hand when you start to get up. “S’fine, you don’t need to get up.”

“Oh,” you say, caught awkwardly between sitting and standing. A smile drifts across Kita’s face like a summer breeze, a quick, soothing thing. You cough and sit back down. “Hi.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment. He’s watching you, drinking you in, and his eyes remind you of a sunlit forest, of the way the sun’s rays drip down between the trees like honey. It aches, the way he looks at you. It’s soft and sure. Steady and open and earnest.

Kita looks at you like you help make the world make a little bit more sense.

His gaze flickers down to the tabletop, and that same small smile blooms on his lips. 

You suddenly remember your mini-army of origami birds, including their headless leader. You fight the urge to close your eyes in mortification.

“You should order something,” you say, fidgeting with your cup. “Their coffee’s nice.” 

“Alright. D’ya want another?” he asks. “I’ll get it for you.”

You shake your head. “No,” you say. “Thank you, though.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you say, and he nods.

When he goes to the counter to order you hurriedly sweep the remains of your shredded napkins away, wincing as they flutter into your purse. Some of them stick to your sweaty palms, and you rub them vigorously against your thighs until they curl up into little paper pearls. They patter to the ground quietly. You send out a quiet mental apology to the cafe workers.

“You alright?” Kita asks. He settles down across from you and you envy his assuredness, how serene he looks.

You nod, not trusting your voice.

He eyes you for a moment, those golden eyes all too knowing. But he doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to wind his hands—lightly tanned and slender, with a constellation of small scars scattered over his skin—around his cup.

It’s tea, you think, the faintest hint of it reaching your nose, and it fits him in a way you can’t quite put into words. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he takes a small sip and you look away. 

“I’m glad we could meet,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say, already wishing you had another napkin to shred. “I think it’s important to talk.”

“It is, but I just wanted to see you.” 

He says it so simply. Kita speaks with the surety of the sun’s rise; he means every word he says. There’s a sweetness to him that could only come from earnesty. He leaves no room for doubt.

You break in the face of it.

“I can’t be with you,” you blurt out.

He goes still. The smile on his lips fades. “What?”

“I can’t be with you,” you repeat. 

“We’re soulmates,” he says, and it’s the most rattled you’ve ever heard him. His fingers flex. He looks lost, those amber eyes hazy, and you think of the morning mist, how it swallows down the sun. There’s a tiny quiver to his lips.

“I know.”

“We’re supposed to be together,” he says.

You ache for him.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out. “But that’s not enough. I can’t leave him. I don’t want to leave him.”

Kita’s quiet. The silence stretches on. And then—

“You love ‘im,” he says softly. 

You nod. 

“You’re happy?”

You nod again.

Kita leans forward and cups your cheek. He skims his thumb over your cheekbone, a careful glide. It comes away wet, his skin salt-kissed, and you lean into his calloused palm.

He wipes away another tear. His touch has the same aching tenderness of a fresh, swollen bruise. 

“Okay,” he says. “I can live with that.”

That quiet, easy capitulation makes it worse. You can see he means it; it’s reflected in his eyes. If you’re happy, that’s enough for him. 

Your stomach hurts.

You sniffle, pulling away from his warm touch and wiping at your eyes. Your cheeks are hot, and they get hotter as you see a few people glancing your way. Kita lets out a slow, deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, staring down at your coffee cup. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” 

It’s not an “it’s okay,” but you suppose that would have been asking for a lot from him. You look at him from underneath your eyelashes and find that his amber eyes are distant, like the sun at the very edge of the horizon. 

You wonder where he’s gone, and then think that perhaps it’s best that you don’t know. You fidget with your cup. The porcelain of it scrapes against the table, and Kita’s eyes clear. Still, they’re not as keen as they usually are, and you shift in your seat. He takes in a soft breath, a whisper of a thing, and then his eyes flicker to you. 

“I’d like to stay in contact with you,” he says. 

You jolt, almost knocking your cup off the table. “What?”

“I would rather have you in my life.” 

“Shin—Kita, that’s not fair to you.”

“Please call me Shinsuke.”

You ache for him, something bone deep that no salve will help subside. “That’s exactly why this isn’t fair,” you say gently. “You’re going to want more than I can give you, and we both know it.”

“I know,” he says. His eyes are keen as they flicker over you; the tilt of his mouth makes you look away. “And I’m sorry. But I won’t ask anything of you, except for this.” 

“Kita—”

His fingers flex, but he doesn’t correct you. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” you ask. Your hands are trembling; the words are sour on your tongue, the lemon tang of a promise that’s going to hurt. 

“Yes,” he says, steady as stone.

You sigh. “Okay,”  you say. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

You nod, toying with a sugar packet as he sips at his tea. You fold and unfold the edge of the package, until the paper starts to wear thin, a few tiny crystals of sugar spilling loose to plink against the table. 

The silence that falls is heavy, weighing you down like an anchor. There’s the quiet background noise of the cafe: the chatter of the barista and other customers, the soft tinkle of the bell as someone else enters, the hiss and purr of the espresso machine, but it seems distant. 

“I’m gonna go,” you say abruptly. “I think that’s for the best.”

You’re already starting to gather up your things when Kita stands. “It’s okay,” he says. “You should stay. I need to be gettin’ back to the farm anyway.”

“You just got here,” you say helplessly. “You drove all this way.”

He glances at you. His expression is complicated; you can’t quite parse it.

“I drove here for you,” he says gently. 

You open your mouth and close it again, a koi-like gape. You sit down slowly, settling into the booth again. He picks up his cup of tea—still piping hot, little wisps of steam rising from it like smoke—and gives you a little smile that doesn’t quite reach his striking eyes.

“Get home safe,” he says. 

“You too,” you say faintly.

You watch him leave, the way each of his steps is steady and sure. You don’t think you’ve ever known someone so at home in their own skin. But there’s a curve to his shoulders now, the broad width of them collapsed inward. It’s minute but it’s there, and your stomach roils again, a sour brew of emotion welling up in you. 

He pauses to ask the barista something; she gives him a to-go cup and watches as he carefully pours his tea into it. He hands back the other cup with a little nod of his head. 

The cafe door clicks shut behind him, bell chiming, a clear, porcelain sound that cuts through the chatter of the cafe. You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands, choosing instead to look down into your nearly-empty cup. The dregs of it are dark, and you wonder if your future is written out in them. 

You blow out a soft breath and scrub at your face with your hands. When you glance up, the barista is carefully not looking your way. To avoid seeing the way her lips have twisted, you glance out the window into the haze of the mid-morning sun, still spilling golden over the tiny parking lot. You immediately balk. 

Kita’s still there. 

He’s in his truck, half-hidden by the glare of sun against the windows, but you know it’s him. You can’t see his eyes, but you can tell he’s staring straight ahead. His mouth is a thin, tight line. You chew on your lower lip.

One hand comes up to scour beneath his eyes. It comes away with a wet sheen catching the sunlight and shining bright. You wince, glancing away.

You stare down into your coffee cup again. When you down the last of it, the dregs of it, it’s sharp and bitter on your tongue.

It almost erases the heavy, metallic tang of guilt.

Almost.

***

Your phone pings.

You grab it without looking away from your monitor, typing in your passcode one-handed as you mutter the last line of the email to yourself. You flick the notification to pull up the text without checking the name and pause.

It’s a picture of the rice fields, rippling in the breeze like a current, the stalks going gilded as harvest draws closer. Beyond the sea of them there are rolling hills of green with only a few power structures—standing tall on their metal legs as they reach into the sky—to mark a human presence. It’s all framed by the bluest sky you’ve ever seen, filled with puffy white clouds that you think are likely being whisked along by the breeze. 

It’s so vivid you can almost smell the fresh air. 

There’s also only one person that could have sent it to you. 

Trying to keep in contact with Kita has been an exercise in awkwardness. You feel bad but you’re trying to figure out how to temper it, since you’re caught between what you know he wants and what you’re capable of giving him. 

To his credit, Kita never pushes. You suspect that he prefers calling—he seems the type—but he mainly texts, following your lead. 

(“I feel like I owe him this much,” you tell Takao one night, when Kita has texted you while the two of you are curled up on the couch watching a movie. 

“I don’t think you owe anyone anything,” he says, but he never asks you to stop.)

There’s still a hint of stilted awkwardness to it, but it has gotten better than it was. 

It’s stunning, you text back. It reminds me of summers in Toyooka. 

He doesn’t reply until dusk is settling, but that’s not unusual considering how diligent he is with his farm. You reply quickly, bored with the TV show you’ve been watching as you wait for Takao to pick up dinner, and the two of you fall into conversation. 

He asks about Toyooka and you tell him. You tell him about catching summer fireflies and playing in the fields with Abe. You’re about to tell him about Abe’s duckling that followed her everywhere one summer when you realize exactly how long of a paragraph you’re sending. 

Before you can second guess yourself, you delete the paragraph and send a different message: I think this might be easier as a call.

I’d like that, Kita replies.

You hit call, knowing you’ll balk if you give yourself time to think. 

He picks up instantly.

“Hello,” he says.

“Hi,” you say, a little awkwardly. “How are you?”

He chuckles, but it’s kind. “I’m good,” he says. “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“That’s good,” he says. Silence falls for a moment. It’s not a comfortable one, and Kita shatters it by saying: “You were talking about your summers in Toyooka?”

“Yes,” you say, and you launch into the tale of Duck (“She named the duckling Duck?” “We were six.”) and how he’d followed Abe through the sea of paddies, all the way up to the genkan of the rented house each and every day.

Kita is a good listener. He seems happy to let you chatter away. He asks questions here and there and tells a few stories of his own, but mostly he’s quiet, just the soft whisper of his breath echoing on the line. 

The two of you talk until you hear the door to the house open. Takao calls out a greeting, a familiar song, and you call one out in return. Rustling accompanies him and the faint scent of spices starts to waft into the living room. 

“I should go,” you say into the phone. “Dinner’s here.” 

“Alright,” Kita says softly. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

Takao comes into the living room as you hang up; he presses a quick kiss to your lips. He tastes suspiciously like your favorite appetizer. 

“Hey,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him. “Did you eat some on the way home?”

“Yup,” he says cheerfully. “A toll for my labor.” 

“You haven’t finished your labor yet. I set the table, so go unpack the food.”

“Yes ma’am!”

You bat at him; he dodges with a little laugh. He leans down and gives you another quick kiss, this time at the corner of your lips, sweet and fleeting. When he pulls away he heads towards the kitchen, lightly swinging the bag of takeout as he goes.

You’re getting to your feet to follow him when your phone vibrates in your hand, buzzing along your skin. You glance at the notification and see that it’s Kita. You flick it open. 

It was good to talk to you, he’s texted.

You pause for a moment, chewing on your lower lip. You can hear Takao humming to himself in the kitchen.

Yeah, you reply. It was good to talk to you too.

It’s easier after that. You stop agonizing over each word. It doesn’t completely fade; you will always be more careful with Kita than you are with anyone else. It’s the kindest thing you can do for him. 

The two of you start to text more, each message a string drawing you closer to each other. He texts you photos of his ducks. You repay him with photos of the conbini’s cat, a spoiled little thing often found lounging in the front windows, little face turned up to the sun. 

You start to call too. It’s sparse at first, often a continuation of a text chat that simply would be better on the phone, but it grows more frequent as the weeks pass. Some nights it’s short; other nights, you feel lost in time, as if only seconds have gone by when you’ve talked for much longer. 

You grow used to seeing Kita’s name pop up on your screen. It’s nice, if you’re honest. You like talking to him. 

“What’re you makin’?”

You glance towards where your phone is propped up. At some point, today’s call became FaceTime, mainly so you both have your hands free to make dinner. It gives you a glimpse into his kitchen; a glimpse into him. 

His kitchen is meticulously clean and inherently practical. Everything seems to have its space, whether it’s a row of well-maintained pots and pans or a knife block with an assortment of handles jutting out from it, a sharpener carefully tucked in beside it. 

But there are other little touches of Kita scattered about: the apron hanging from the rack is embroidered with tiny rice paddies, each stitch painstakingly made by his grandmother’s steady hand; the strawberry plant in the window is heavy with small, glistening berries despite the season; there are neatly folded handkerchiefs tucked loosely into a drawer by the cleaning supplies.

Even through a phone screen it feels warm. Homey in a quiet way. 

Kita moves back into frame with a bowl in his hand. He’s got a brow raised, and you remember he asked you a question. 

“Nikuman,” you tell him, gliding the cabbage over the mandolin’s shining blade. You work it carefully, watching the ribbons of white-green flutter down onto the cutting board.  “Oyakodon too. You?”

“Tofu hamburger.”

“That’s your favorite, right?”

A small smile blooms on his lips. “You remembered.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I’m not,” he says. “It’s just nice.”

You hum, finishing up with the cabbage and dumping it into a bowl. Kita keeps chopping as you pour rice into a pot and start to wash it. “Ugh,” you murmur to yourself. “Almost out of rice.”

“What rice do you use?” Kita asks.

You point at him with a wet hand. “No,” you say. “You’re gonna judge me.”

“Over rice?”

“You’re a rice farmer!” 

He chuckles. “And?”

“That means you know rice secrets. Like better brands.”

“I could always give you some.”

“Some rice secrets?”

“Some rice.”

You hum. “Thanks, but I don’t want you to have to go out of your way,” you say. “Shipping it seems inconvenient. 

“I was thinkin’ I could bring you some. I have a delivery in the city soon.”

You pause. Kita’s stopped preparing his dinner, instead turning his gaze on you. Even through the phone, his amber eyes almost glow. You think of the last vestiges of a sunset, of the deepest sheen of gold threading across the horizon. 

“Kita…” 

“You can say no,” he says quietly. Quietly, but no less steady for it. 

You sink your hand into the rice that’s settled at the bottom of the pot, still covered by water. When you flex your fingers, the grains slip through them like darting little fish. You do it again. The water ripples around your wrist.

“I can’t, Kita,” you say. 

He nods, his gray hair a lightning strike gleam. “Alright,” he says. His shoulders dip low, an exhausted Atlas, and you sigh.

“Not yet,” you say. “But one day.”

He nods again. For a moment you think he’ll say something else, but he simply gives you a crooked little smile. When you change the subject, he doesn’t fight it. The two of you settle back into conversation as you cook. 

You hang up as Takao returns home. Dinner has just finished cooking, the oyakodon perfectly golden, the scent of it lingering savory in the air. You settle in at the table, talking about your day as you eat, until you finally put your chopsticks down.

“Kita asked me to meet up.”

He puts his chopsticks down as well. 

“I said no,” you say, meeting his gaze. “Well, I said not yet.”

“Not yet? You want to see him?”

“I think I’d like to,” you tell him, because you will always be honest with him about this. “But I won’t if you don’t want me to.” 

“I don’t want to stop you from doing something you want to do.”

“I will, though.”

He runs a hand through his hair; it flows through his fingers like water, little rivulets of dark hair catching between his fingers. “I know,” he says.

“I’ll choose you, Aoshi,” you tell him. “As many times as it takes.” 

He reaches over and cups your cheek with a warm hand. “I know,” he says. “It’s not my favorite thing, but if you want to see him you should.” 

You cover his hand with your own and turn into his touch. You press your lips against his palm, against the leylines that are carved there, a future you don’t know how to read. 

You press another kiss to his palm, a quiet gratitude for his trust.

He leans over to brush a whisper of a kiss to the corner of your lips. 

As you turn back to your meal you think of the waver to Kita’s smile, like the sun hidden behind passing clouds.

One day, you promise him. One day.

***

One day comes quicker than you’d thought.

It’s early, the sun still hovering over the horizon as the blue of dawn fades away into something brighter. The sunlight catches on the city buildings, the windows shimmering like a mirage, a promise of what’s hidden behind them. The streets aren’t empty—they never are—but the frantic pace of them has slowed to something leisurely, as if the city is still waking up too. 

You weave your way through the streets. The route is familiar and you pay little attention to where you’re going, choosing instead to watch the vendors begin to open their stores. The florist is already putting out buckets of flowers, a riot of color from the dawn hues of a ruffled ranunculus to the deep purple of the elegant, leggy irises rising over the rest. He’s half-lost in the blossoms, pushing his way through petals to lay out more of his wares. Some of them catch in his hair. 

Next door, the conbini is still aglow. It’s always a beacon in the night, but it’s softer in the day. You head in and grab a quick snack for later, giving the half-asleep cashier a little smile. 

The bustle of the street has grown when you leave the conbini, the stream of people burgeoning into a river. But you still hear it when someone calls your name.

You glance around and find Kita just a door down from you, coming out of a small grocer’s. He smiles at you softly and you almost duck back into the conbini. 

He waits there, leaving the choice of approaching up to you, but you’ve run from him enough. You slip through the crowd and join him by a flat of dusky peaches, the air around them faintly sweetened. 

“Hi,” you say. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He nods towards the inside of the grocer’s shop. It’s small, clearly family owned, but it’s well-stocked. There’s a kid—no more than ten, you think—carefully putting shining apples into a basket, their face scrunched up in concentration. 

“Tsukada stocks my rice,” Kita says, and now that he’s said it, you vaguely remember him mentioning this neighborhood when you’d talked about his delivery route a few weeks ago. “I’m very grateful for it.”

A scoff comes from behind the register. An older woman peers out, her brow raised. Her eyes are wrinkled at the edges, her crow’s feet papery, but the thickest line is clearly a laugh line. 

“It’s good rice,” she tells you. “Simple as that.” She eyes you curiously, tilting her head to the side. Her thick black braid thuds against her shoulder; it’s streaked with gray, like pebbles just visible through a river’s darkened waters. 

Kita inclines his head to her, a small smile on his lips. “You’re kind,” he says. 

“Just tellin’ the truth.” Tsukada settles back, disappearing behind the register again. “Take some fruit with you when you go. I know your granny likes peaches this time of year.”

“I will,” he says. “Thank you.”

She waves him off with a gnarled hand, barely visible from your vantage point. 

Kita returns his attention to you. “It’s good to see you,” he says, all summer warmth. “I don’t suppose you have a little time? My next delivery isn’t until later.” 

You purse your lips. He tracks the movement, his eyes dimming, and you sigh. 

“I have a little time,” you say. “Coffee?”

He lights ups. “Perfect,” he says. “D’ya know a place near here?”

You nod. “I think it has tea, too.” 

He smiles at you. Then he’s calling a respectful goodbye to Tsukada, gathering a few of the peaches to put in the bag slung over his shoulder. You watch him pick them, his long fingers tender against the soft flesh. He brushes his fingertips along a stubborn leaf still attached to the stem. You half expect him to tear it loose, but he leaves it in place.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

The two of you wind through the streets. He stays by your side but gives you space, only pressing close when the stream of people on the sidewalk thickens to a river. 

The coffee shop isn’t far. When you duck inside the scent of coffee billows over you, sharp and thick and a little bit bitter. You both order—Kita offers to pay, but he doesn’t look surprised when you decline—and then find a little booth tucked away by a small window. The sun has warmed the seats. It streams through the glass in whirling colors, catching in the stained glass decal pressed close to the window. It dapples Kita with pink like he’s been flecked with sakura petals, and you hide your smile in your coffee cup. 

He seems to notice, an answering smile tugging at his lips, but he doesn’t mention it. 

“How’s the farm?” you ask.

“S’good,” he says, taking a sip of his tea. You can smell it faintly, even through the coffee, an earthy kiss. “The ducklings are fully grown now, since I know that’s what you really want to know.”

“You caught me,” you say with a laugh. “Can you blame me? They’re so cute!”

“Yeah,” Kita says, his gaze steady on you. “They are.”

“And you’ve been skimping on the pictures.”

“I sent you one just yesterday.”

“Yes, exactly! Just one!”

He chuckles softly. “I’ll do better,” he promises. 

“Good.”

“And how’re you?”

“Working a lot,” you say. “It’s starting to feel like it’s all I do, but my project should be done soon so I can have a bit more time. I want to meet Abe’s new girlfriend, but I haven’t had a chance yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll meet her soon.”

“Hope so. How are your Olympians? This is what, their second one coming up? I’m looking forward to it.”

He grins. It’s broad and bright, brimming with pride and joy. “They’re not mine,” he protests, but his grin doesn’t falter. “But yes, their second, and they’re good. Workin’ hard. It’s off season, though, so hopefully they’ll come ‘round to visit.” 

“I’m sure Aran will.”

“He doesn’t have a choice,” he says. “Granny’ll go get him herself if she’s got to. He’ll get an earful about it, too.”

You smile into your cup. “I’d like to see that.”

“It’s sure something.” 

“I can only imagine.” 

Kita takes a sip of his tea. Not for the first time you’re struck by the way he moves, the careful surety of it, steadiness edged in grace. You wonder if it’s from his time playing volleyball or if he was always like this.

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask.

“Sometimes,” he says. “It made sense, y’know? Learning something, repeatin’ it, then using that repetition to move forward.”

“It doesn’t sound that different from farmwork.”

He chuckles. It’s low and warm, like the first true rays of light pouring over the horizon. “I suppose they have similarities.” 

“Seems like it to me.”

The two of you keep chatting. It’s easy to pick up the thread of the last time you spoke, and you weave it into today’s conversation. 

You bask in the glow of the morning sun as it streams over the booth. Under the sun’s warmth the world goes honeyed, a slow, sweet drip of time. You shift sleepily. Kita breathes out what could be a little laugh at the sight, but when you look at him he’s got his face tilted up into the light. It gilds him, his half-closed eyes going from amber to pure gold, as if he’s Midas-touched.

You sigh. 

He blinks, the fan of his long eyelashes casting a soft shadow on his tanned cheeks. 

“I have to go,” you tell him. “But this—this has been nice.”

“Very nice,” he agrees.

“Let’s do it again sometime.”

His breath catches briefly. You pretend to not hear it.

“Yes,” he says, a quiet hope lining his voice. You hate yourself a little. “Let’s.” 

You give him a little smile as you rise to your feet. He gets up too despite his unfinished tea, and the two of you head out the door together. 

The humid air rolls over you; you can already feel the heavy stickiness on your skin. You huff, rolling up your sleeves, and a tiny smile appears in the corner of Kita’s mouth. He doesn’t say anything though, and you bid him a quiet goodbye. 

He returns it, his eyes soft, and you head down the street.

When you turn the corner, you can’t help it. You glance back at where you left him. 

He’s already gone.

***

Autumn makes itself known.

It encroaches on the hazy, honeyed nights of late summer slowly, a creeping first frost. The cold is soft edged, more a kiss than a bite. Still, the hydrangeas that line the path to the municipal office have faded under its touch, the blossoms leeched of color and gone brittle at the edges. They rasp out a dry, harsh song as the breeze picks up.

You shiver and lean into Takao’s warmth as the two of you walk to the office, your kon-in todoke clasped tight in your hand. The ink of your seals is still fresh, done hurriedly at the kitchen table when you realized that you were going to be late for your appointment. Abe’s seal is almost too far out of the witness’s section to count; she’d still been bleary-eyed, her first cup of coffee only partially drunk. Yoshikawa’s seal is perfectly in the box for it. She was still teasing Abe when you and Takao left.

“Nervous?” Takao asks, twining his fingers with yours. His palm is slightly sweaty; you hide your smile in your scarf.

“A little. You?”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

“Yoshikawa,” you say promptly. “I don’t think marriage would rattle her at all.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I can see that.” 

You slip inside the office; the chatter of it settles over you. You shrug off your scarf as you orient yourself, reading the signs plastered all over to figure out where the two of you need to go. 

The clerk who processes your kon-in todoke is young. She has a kind smile, and she flashes it as she takes the form from you, along with your koseki tohon. She holds out a hand for your IDs and her nails are baby blue, dotted with tiny white clouds, a perfect summer sky. You can’t help your smile.  

You lean into Takao as she scans your forms. He gives your hand a little squeeze; when you glance up at him, the tips of his ears have gone dusty pink. You almost laugh. He seems to realize it, delivering a nudge to your side that makes you pinch at him. 

“Everything looks in order,” the clerk says. “You have your soulmate form as well?”

“Yes,” Takao says. He hands it to her; you stare at the bulletin board behind the clerk’s head so that her face is blurry. Her keyboard clicks away, but she doesn’t say anything, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

She examines your forms again, her eyes sharp as she reviews them, and then she’s shuffling them together and forming a neat stack. She flashes that same sweet smile. 

“Congratulations,” she says. “You’re officially married.”

Takao squeezes your hand before letting go. He turns to face you and he’s glassy-eyed, his lower lip trembling. He cups your cheek and pulls you close to brush a barely-there kiss against your lips. You chase him when he starts to pull away, deepening the kiss for a brief moment. 

“Hi,” you say when the two of you break apart. “Husband.” 

“Wife,” he replies. There are roses blooming in his cheeks, the blush spreading from his cheekbones up to his ears. He nuzzles his nose against yours. 

The clerk coughs, but when you glance at her, your cheeks heating, she’s still smiling. 

“Thank you,” you tell her. 

She nods, gathering the rest of your paperwork and handing the small stack to you. You collect them carefully before handing them to Takao so he can put them in the small folder he’d brought.

The entire trip home feels unreal, the cityscape swirling together in a watercolor blur, neon melting into the harsh sheen of metal, softened by a hint of greenery. Takao’s touch is grounding though, and you squeeze his hand from time to time, as if making sure he’s still there. 

He always is.

The two of you exchange rings in your sunwarm kitchen. You have no vows, but you think you don’t need them. It’s enough to see the look on Takao’s face as he slips the ring into place; it speaks a language from long ago that you still know by heart. Abe and Yoshikawa cheer when you’re done, and then the rest of the day rushes by, filled to the brim with mini-celebrations. Your friends have gone out of their way to provide what the shrines will not, and you once again wonder how you’ve gotten so lucky. 

Dusk is falling when the last of your guests leave, the sunset spilling over the horizon like fire. The last dregs of light fade as you curl up next to Takao on the couch. He presses a soft kiss to your hairline; you chase him for a real kiss.  You lace your fingers together when you break apart. You thumb at his wedding ring idly, the metal warmed by his skin. 

“We’re married, huh?” you say.

“Seems that way.”

You laugh. “Don’t sound too excited, now.” 

He pinches at you. “I’m not excited,” he says, deftly avoiding your return pinch. “I’m happy. There’s a difference, you know.” 

You lean into him. “I think you’re right.”

“It happens sometimes.”

“It does?”

He pinches at you again. You shove him away, but he pulls you back in and cradles you close. You play-struggle for a moment and then finally relax into him when he tightens his grip. 

“Are you?” he asks softly.

“Am I what?”

“Happy.”

You turn in his arms, reaching out to cup his jaw. You stroke your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Yes,” you say. “I am.”

He kisses you then, his mouth soft and sure. You would know his touch anywhere, you think. It settled beneath your skin long ago. 

“Good,” he says. “Good.”

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, tasting the salt of his skin on your parted lips. His breath wavers. You press a kiss to his pulse.

“I have a phone call to make,” you murmur into his skin. “And I need to do it soon. It’s important.”

He tugs you back up so that you’re looking at him. His eyes—as deep and dark as the night sky—flicker over you. You wait. His brow furrows for a moment and then understanding blooms on his face. He leans forward to press a ghost of a kiss to the corner of your lips. 

“Okay,” he says, letting you go and getting to his feet. He pauses, as if he wants to say more, but he heads to the kitchen without a word. You watch him go before grabbing your phone and dialing. 

You take in a deep, slow breath as the line rings.

Kita picks up quickly. The two of you exchange pleasantries for a few minutes, catching up with each other briefly. There’s an easy flow to it, but he pauses after a moment.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

You bite at a hangnail. 

“I got married today,” you say softly. “I—I thought you should know.”

He’s quiet. It reminds you of the deepest parts of winter, when even the air is still. You ache with it. He’s a bruise that will never quite fade, you think, and you can only imagine what it’s like for him. 

“Thank you,” he says eventually, his voice soft but steady. “For telling me.” 

“It didn’t feel right to not,” you confess. “I’m sorry, Kita.”

“I know.” 

The call doesn’t last much longer. There’s not much left to say after that, and your husband is patiently waiting for you. 

Once you’ve hung up you head into the kitchen and find Takao slicing up a small cake. It’s a froth of delicate frosting topped with crystalline spun-sugar flowers. Abe had insisted that you have a wedding cake and you hadn’t bothered to argue.

He glances up when you wander in. His smile is incandescent, a starlight thing, and you go to him with a matching smile tugging at your lips. You kiss him once, then again, and then a third time still. He laughs. 

You wind your arms around his waist as he finishes cutting the cake, pressing your forehead between his shoulder blades. He smells of home; there’s the faintest hint of his cologne under the scent of your laundry detergent. You press closer.

“Hard call?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, muffled by his shirt.

“It’s over now.”

“So it is.” 

He puts down the knife and turns around in your arms. He draws you close. “I love you,” he says. “Enough that I’ll even share this cake with you.”

“Oh, wow.”

“I know.” 

You laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” you tell him, knowing you sound terribly, disgustingly fond. You start to pull away but he tightens his arms around you. “Aoshi!”

“You gotta say it back.”

“I love you,” you tell him softly. “I really do.”

His smile is tender and fleeting, a dandelion seed caught on the wind. You kiss it from his lips. His hands come up to cup your jaw; you feel the metal of his wedding ring against your skin. 

It feels incredibly ordinary.

You hope it always will. 

*** 

You shiver as you pull the door to the onigiri shop open, burying your face in your scarf even as you step into warm air. A gust of wind whips in behind you, carrying a few rare snowflakes—fat and fluffy, a perfect pure white—inside. You pull the door shut behind you quickly.

It’s blessedly warm in the shop and the air is spiced with enticing, savory aromas. For a moment, you think of your father’s kitchen: the clutter of ingredients spread across a chopping board, an organized mess; the weight of a worn soft apron; the warmth of a heating stove. You open your eyes, not realizing you’d closed them as you breathed in.

It’s a cozy shop. There are plush looking booths and a few small tables, plus a handful of stools at the counter the chef is working behind. He’s a broad man, his forearms flexing as he shapes an onigiri. He snaps something at one of the men sitting on the stools, reaching out to smack the blond’s hand as he tries to grab something behind the counter. The blond squawks, pulling back and looking deeply offended. 

You cough out a laugh.

Both of them snap their gazes to you. They’re twins, you realize, encountering two identical faces. The chef’s furrowed brow smooths out into something placid. He pushes the blond back into his seat with a big hand. 

“What can I get ya?”

“Oh,” you say, caught off guard with how easily he’s switched up. “I’m not sure yet, I’m sorry.”

“Menu’s over there if you need one,” he says, pointing to a stack you hadn’t noticed. “Sit wherever you like.” 

“Thanks,” you say, and suddenly, the man next to the blond looks up. He’s handsome, tall even while he’s sitting down, his shoulders just as broad as the chef’s. He’s also oddly familiar; he says your name and you blink.

“Aran?” you ask.

He beams. “It is you! It’s been a while. Are you staying to eat?” 

You glance between the three of them. The twins are staring at you now; the chef has a brow raised but is otherwise placid, while the blond gapes. You put two and two together and realize that they must be the Miyas. No wonder the name of the shop sounded familiar. 

“You’re Kita’s soulmate,” the chef—Osamu, you remember—says. He sounds bland, but there’s a bit of a sneer tucked into the corner of his mouth. 

“That’s her?” the blond—Atsumu, then—says. He looks you over from head to toe, his honey-brown eyes shining in the low light. His mouth twists into something lemon-edged, a faint hint of sourness lining his whole form.

Osamu ignores him, looking at you instead. “Kita’s here,” he tells you. “He’s droppin’ off some rice in the storeroom.”

You glance at the door of the shop. 

“Dontcha want to see your soulmate?” Atsumu asks, a little bit mean.

You wince. You twist your scarf around your fingers, spooling it around your knuckles.

Aran sighs, looking very, very pained. “Don’t be rude,” he chastises. 

“M’not being rude! I’m just asking! She’s not—”

“Atsumu.” 

Kita emerges from the back, coming up behind the counter. His sleeves are rolled high on his forearms; there’s a light sheen of sweat on his brow. It turns his hair to the dark gray of a summer storm cloud. His mouth is drawn taut, a gash of a thing. 

Atsumu goes pale.

“I’ll have the other part of the delivery for you later this month,” Kita says to Osamu. The dark-haired twin nods. There’s a little smirk on his lips, the bitten down delight of watching a sibling get in trouble. 

Atsumu’s fidgeting, tugging at the hem of one of his sleeves with long, strong fingers. 

“Hey,” Kita says, turning to you. “S’good to see you.” 

“Yeah,” you say, still looking at Atsumu, who looks like he’s waiting for a death sentence.

“I didn’t realize you came here, I would have told Osamu to look out for you.”

“It’s my first time. A coworker suggested it.” 

Atsumu’s shoulders are slowly lowering. There’s the slightest twitch to Kita’s lips, a little half-smile that you recognize. There’s a layer of mischief to it that you’re still getting used to. 

“By the way, Atsumu,” he says, and the blond chokes.  “Didya have something you wanted to say?”

Osamu snorts as his brother wildly shakes his head. It’s quiet but obvious and Atsumu scowls at him. Kita clears his throat and both brothers snap to attention. 

Next to Atsumu, Aran looks like he’s holding back laughter. It’s a good look for him—he glows with it, his barely contained smile bright and true. 

“Ya sure?” Kita asks, that same little mischievous tilt to his lips. Atsumu nods. “Alright then.” 

He rolls down his sleeves as he steps out from behind the counter; he comes over to you and gives you a crescent moon smile, soft and sweet. The two of you step away from the group slightly. 

“Hi,” you say, quieter this time, something just for you and him. 

“You stayin’?” he asks. “You should join us.”

You shake your head. “I have to get back,” you tell him. “Another time?”

“Of course.” 

Kita stays by your side as you order; he radiates a gentle heat, like the bricks of a hearth long after the fire has died down. You watch Osamu make the onigiri, placing each filling carefully. His big hands are gentle as they mold the rice. There’s care and pride in each movement and it lives in his face, too, in the swell of his smile as he completes each one. 

They’re a lively group—Atsumu is growing louder and louder as he argues with his brother, something like a pout on his expressive face before it’s wiped away by indignance. 

“Oi!” he says, pointing at Osamu, halfway out of his seat. “Take that back!”

“Nope,” Osamu says.

“You—”

Aran grimaces as he pulls Atsumu back into his seat. “You’re so loud.”

“Am not!” 

“Ya are,” Osamu says. “Now shut up, you’re bothering the customers.”

Atsumu makes a noise that reminds you of a cat that’s fallen into water as Osamu hands you your order. The box is rather simple, with Onigiri Miya stamped onto it in a deep, rich ink, but it somehow reminds you of the bentos of your childhood. You think it might be how carefully the onigiri are tucked into it, each one nestled close to the next, a little mountain range of rice. 

Kita walks you to the door after you say your goodbyes to the rest of the group. He holds your onigiri box as you put your scarf back on, looping it around your neck.

“Sorry you couldn’t stay,” he says. His fingertips linger when he hands the box back. “I promise my friends don’t bite.”

“Maybe not Aran.” 

He laughs softly. “The twins are all bark and no bite,” he says. “Besides, I can keep ‘em in line.” 

“I noticed.”

He smiles. “See you soon?”

“Yeah,” you say. “See you soon.” 

He holds open the door for you; a gust of wind sweeps over you, tugging playfully at the end of your scarf. You carry his warm smile into the cold winter afternoon.

You’re almost halfway down the street when you hear a familiar voice. 

“Hey!”

You glance back over your shoulder. Atsumu is powering after you; he catches up to you in an instant, tugging you back until you’re both out of the way of other pedestrians. You’re halfway into an izakaya’s doorstep, the winter peonies surrounding it swaying around your ankles. A few early customers peer out the door at you, but Atsumu pays them no mind. 

“What’re you doin’?” he asks, a little too loud.

“Miya—”

“Kita’s traditional,” he says roughly. “It’s only ever gonna be you for him. You know that, right?” 

Your stomach roils.

(I’ve been waiting.

He still is.)

“I’m married.” 

He throws his hands up into the air. “He’s still your soulmate!” 

“I don’t love him!”

“It’s Kita,” he shouts, startling a few passersby. “Everybody loves him!”

“I’m not in love with him,” you say, the words bitter on your tongue. You are so, so tired. “I’m married. I’m happy. Kita’s accepted it, so why can’t you?”

He snorts, honey-brown eyes narrowing. “You really think he’s accepted it? Or is that what you tell yerself so you can sleep at night?”

“Fuck you.” 

The words snap out of you, brutally frigid, like river ice cracking beneath its own weight. To your utter horror, there are tears pooling hot in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Atsumu looks almost as horrified as you feel, but it’s of little consolation. You can feel a sob welling up inside you, rippling through you like oceantide. 

You manage to bite down on it when it leaves you, muffling it just enough. Then the tears finally fall, carving their way across your cheeks like snowmelt, already bitterly cold from the winter air. You rub them away with the back of your hand. 

“I didn’t mean ta—”

“But you did,” you say, knife-sharp and drawing him up short. “You did. Goodbye, Miya.”

He doesn’t follow you when you walk away.

***

The neighbors’ little girl loves the summer rains. She spends them running around outside, the murky puddle water splashing under the soles of her banana-yellow boots. She has a matching umbrella and sometimes you and Takao can see it from your bedroom window, whirling like a top. 

“We should do that,” Takao says, his chin hooked over your shoulder. It’s pouring out. The rain hums against the roof, nature’s oldest song, and the neighbors’ girl—Aiko, you think—is dancing to it. You can just make out her long braid bouncing as she hops from puddle to puddle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, getting to his feet and tugging you with him. “Let’s go.”

“Aoshi, it’s pouring.” 

“Yes, that’s the point.” 

You laugh and let him drag you through the house. He shoves your raincoat at you, shrugging on his own before the two of you race to the genkan, giggling as you go. You slip your boots on and run outside.

The rain sluices down on you, the humid summer heat already sneaking its way beneath your raincoat, the beginnings of sweat starting to gather. You pay it little mind, sucking in a deep breath instead, taking in the scent of the wet concrete as Takao grabs your hand. He tugs you towards Aiko.

Before you know it, the two of you are swinging her back and forth between you, her little wrists clutched tight in your hands. She shrieks with delight each time she comes up off the ground; each landing creates a tidal wave in the puddle she crashes down into. 

Takao is laughing, low and sweet, and when you glance at him, he’s already looking at you. His dark hair is plastered against his forehead. Water droplets are beading on his long eyelashes before he blinks them away. 

Your breath catches for an instant. And then Aiko is tugging on your hand, wanting to go again, and you glance away from your husband with a little smile. 

You stay outside with Aiko until her father calls her in. Then the two of you tumble back into your house, stripping off your wet clothing with groans. 

Takao cooks dinner as you lay everything out to dry. You’ve just clipped the last clothespin into place when he calls to you; you take the extra clothespins and clip them along the little storage space you’d added to the balcony for them, a short length of bright blue twine. 

He’s made curry, the type that warms even your bones. The two of you curl up together on the couch to eat. You lean into him, ignoring his groan as you accidentally elbow him in the stomach.

“We should go on our honeymoon,” he says after a moment. “It’s almost been a year and we still haven’t gone.” 

“We should,” you say, scraping your bowl clean and licking the last of the sauce off of your chopsticks. “Where do you want to go?”

“Haven’t thought that far.”

You snort. “You’re the one who brought it up!”

“It’s a step by step process, you know. First we have to decide to actually go, then we pick the place.”

He easily evades your little pinch. 

“It’s gonna be hard to pick,” you tell him.

“Maybe.” 

“We’ll figure it out, I guess.”

He leans in and presses a kiss to your temple. 

“We always do.” 

He’s right, you think. You always do figure it out.

Together.

***

The farm is dusted with snow.

It reminds you of powdered sugar, light and fluffy and easily blown away in the slightest breeze. It’s the first snow according to Kita. The true frost set in over the last week; the paddies have iced over, a cobweb of winter. You listen to the crackle of it settling and shiver, pushing deeper into your scarf.

“Ya warm enough?” Kita asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “It’s just a little more mild in the city.”

He hums his agreement. The two of you keep walking along the worn dirt path, weaving through the slumbering fields. The snow crunches softly underfoot. In the distance, you can hear the rumble of a truck; it purrs and groans as it putters down one of the other roads. 

“I’m glad you came,” Kita says softly.

He’s invited you several times, never pushing, but you’ve always said no. You don’t know why this time had felt right, but it had. You watch a crow circle overhead before it lands in a bare tree, a spot of darkness against the pale blue sky. 

“Me too,” you say. “I’ve never been out here in the winter.”

“Pretty, ain’t it?”

“It is.” 

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence as you wander further. You pass another farmhouse where two small children are playing outside, both of them bundled up to the point that they’re waddling more than walking. One of them has a crimson scarf, the deep color of poppies at night, the ends of it fluttering in the gentle breeze.

They’re sliding a puck back and forth on ice that’s creaking ominously. They wave to you with the branches they’re using for hockey sticks. 

“Should we stop them?” you ask, waving back.

Kita shakes his head. “There’s only an inch or so of water, this time of year. They’ll be fine.” 

“Okay.” 

“Did you ever do that?”

He laughs. “Course.”

“Play or fall through?”

“Both, actually,” he says. He takes hold of your arm as you slip on a patch of ice, keeping you upright with ease. “Careful now.”

He waits until you’re steady before he lets go. He presses a bit closer after that and you let him. The wind is too constant to really feel the heat of him, but you think you feel it anyway. 

You fall back into comfortable silence. The wind is whistling softly through the bare trees, stirring the last clinging remnants of the leaves. You watch one of them tear free and blow away. It carries across the fields, which stretch as far as the eye can see. 

You turn back when you get to the edge of the paddy you’re walking next to. By the time you’re back to the farm, you’re chatting about what to make for dinner. Kita had taken you to the local market earlier in the day letting you browse through the piles of daikon and leeks, each of them fresher than anything you would see in the grocery store.

“Oden?” Kita suggests as you enter the genkan and you nod.

“Sounds perfect,” you say, using the wall to balance as you start to take off your boots. Kita stops in the middle of taking off his jacket and kneels down in front of you to get the buckle you’re struggling with. “Kita, you don’t need to do that.”

“Already down here,” he says with a smirk. “So I might as well.” 

You sigh. “Thank you,” you say, slipping off your jacket and hanging it carefully. 

He nods, tucking his outerwear away neatly before getting to his feet. After he’s sure you’re all set, he heads down the hall, turning on the small kotatsu that sits in his living room. It’s an older one, the blanket slightly worn, patterned with white cranes. It was his grandmother’s, you think. 

“Get warm,” he says. “I’ll start cooking.”

“I should help—”

“You can after you’ve warmed up a little bit.”

“Fine,” you say, ignoring the little smile on his face as you pout. You sit at the kotatsu and melt into the warmth as he heads into the kitchen. 

You join him not long after. He gives you leeks to chop as he peels daikon; you spend a few minutes at his pristine kitchen sink, washing the grit out from between the leaves. The two of you chatter as you cook. The kitchen is slowly heating, until it’s like a banked fire. 

His kitchen is small but set up well and the two of you move around it easily together. You rarely bump into each other and hand off ingredients as the other needs them. It’s seamless and it doesn’t take long before the oden is done.

The two of you settle at the kotatsu to eat. Kita hands you a pair of well-worn chopsticks.

“You should come for longer next time, if you can,” he says.

“I’ll try to,” you say, knowing that you’ve only touched the surface of the farm. Of the life he’s built here, in the wide expanse of the countryside. 

He smiles warmly. “Good.”

Time flies by until Kita has to get up to turn on another lamp as night encroaches. When you peer out the window, the night sky sprawls endless above you, softly lit by the tender touch of the waning moon.

“I should go,” you say. “It’s late.”

He hums an agreement. The two of you bundle up in the genkan; Kita lends you a too-long scarf that’s messily knitted. You wrap it around your neck several times before you are willing to brave the cold. 

The snow glistens under the moonlight as you trudge to Kita’s truck. There’s a stillness to the night, as if you’re on the cusp of something unreal, something otherworldly. You tilt your head back and gaze at the stars, scattered throughout the plush darkness, glinting like ice. 

Kita cranks the truck’s heater to high as it rumbles on. It blows out a gush of cold air that makes you shudder, but it’s already warming by the time you’re pulling out of the driveway. 

“Where does your farm end?” you ask.

“Just here,” he says, flicking on his blinker as he makes a turn down the road towards town. “Then it’s Suzuki’s place.” 

“Do they—”

“Have ducks?”

“...Yes.”

His eyes flicker to you, the amber of them aglow in the silvery moonlight. “He does.” 

You must look pleased because he laughs, the sound low and warm, filling the cab of the truck like billowing smoke. The smile on his lips is wide and you think of the horizon, how it never ends, and hope that his joy never ends, too. 

“Kita,” you say, unable to help yourself.

“Mhm?”

“I’m glad we’re friends,” you say softly.

Kita’s smile dims, the summer sun hidden behind thin, wispy clouds. 

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. He sounds a little sad. “Me too.”

The rest of the ride is silent.

***

Winter melts away in the face of spring’s burgeoning warmth. The crocuses come early this year, pushing up through the dregs of frost, unfurling quietly, steadily. Yoshikawa paints them; they’re bruises against the soft white of her canvas, the yellow stamen cradled between petals like golden treasure. 

She gives you and Abe the paintings one day at the park. They’re carefully wrapped, no bigger than your hand, tied up with a piece of twine that you think she sniped from your gardening supplies. 

“What’s this?” Abe asks.

“Find out for yourself,” Yoshikawa says, as if Abe isn’t already tearing into the paper. She hands you yours as you sit up from the pile of blankets you’d laid out on the grassy knoll of the park. You pull it open carefully.

“Pretty,” you breathe, tracing a finger over the long, elegant curve of the stems. “Are these the ones behind the house?”

She nods.

“These aren’t your usual style,” Abe says.

Yoshikawa shrugs, laying down on the blankets and shielding her eyes against the sun. “I’m trying something new.”

“It’s nice,” Abe says. “You should do more like it.”

“Maybe.” 

“When are you going to paint me?”

“I already painted you,” Yoshikawa points out. 

“That was in high school!”

“It’s still painting you.”

You tune them out and lie back down. You curl up so that you can pillow your head on Yoshikawa’s stomach. She shifts to give you more room. She smells like sweet, wet earth. You think of a garden after rain, when it’s gone lush and green. You sink into the oasis of her. 

Abe wakes you up as the sun is starting to set. You groan but let her coax you up. The three of you gather your items plus a few things you hadn’t had at the start of the day: a heart shaped rock Abe tripped over; a box of okonomiyaki that’s perfuming the air with a savory, spicy scent; a few golden wildflowers, tied carefully together with a hair elastic.

You know the walk home by heart, so you spend your time looking at the city as it comes to life, a night-blooming flower. Next to you, Abe is chatting merrily at Yoshikawa, who is looking at her with a smile you know well. She glances at you and drops you a sly little wink. 

“What was that?” Abe asks immediately.

“Nothing,” Yoshikawa says, taking your keys from you and opening the front door.

“It was something!���

“It really wasn’t.”

“Yes it was!”

You listen to them bicker all the way to the kitchen, trying not to laugh. Abe whirls on you. “Tell me,” she whines.

“It really was nothing,” you say. “She’s just winding you up.”

Abe huffs. “I hate you both.”

“You love us,” Yoshikawa says, opening up the box of okonomiyaki and grabbing three of her favorite plates. 

“Sadly, I do.” 

Your phone rings; when you glance at it, it’s an unknown number. You silence it and grab a plate from Yoshikawa. The three of you eat and chat, swapping bites here and there since you all got different fillings. The sun sets; the golden light pours in through your kitchen window and haloes your friends. 

Your phone vibrates and you pull it out of your pocket, expecting it to be Takao. Instead, the same unknown number is calling you again. You frown and pick up.

A woman says your name. There’s something to the way she says it. You let out a soft, shaky breath as you listen.

You hang up. Your phone sits heavy in your hand.

“That was the hospital,” you say, sounding too calm even to your own ears. “Aoshi was in an accident.”

Abe and Yoshikawa’s heads come up. 

“Is he okay?” Yoshikawa says, blade-sharp.

Your vision is going black at the edges, a slow, steady swallowing. You sit down carefully, the wooden floor cold even through your clothing.

Abe says your name.

She sounds scared.

“No,” you say evenly. “He didn’t make it.”

[acourtofquestions]

Me: *crying* because HOW DID IT END? fits the TOG series & Aelin WAYYY too well for comfort😅😭

IM SORRY IN ADVANCE IF YOU READ THIS BECAUSE OW! BUT ALSO TAYLOR & SARAH WHY DOES IT FIT SO WELL? AND ALSO WHY BRAIN? — WHY NOTICE?? — OW! OW!! OWW!!! SRY BUT FANGIRL BRAIN GO BRRR😅😭🖤☠️🤷‍♀️🤦‍♀️

He was a hot house flower to my outdoorsmen — from Dorian & his cold blue yet sweet soul of a good man not a ruthlessly weighted King, the Chaol & his “classic sensibilities”, to Rowan her carranam (her old life burning with it as it all changes for good)

Our maladies were such we could not cure them — Sam😭 they tried to get away, but they were always trapped (by the same thing that caused them to meet), the Assassin’s Keep (it’s called keep for a reason), Arobynn (🖕I hate him so much more by the day😅😂) the “guild”… they couldn’t run far enough even if they’d had the time to try… but they never would🖤

A touch that was my birthright became foreign — LOSING HER MAGIC & parents & home & kingdom & crown (all the times her very being was pried from her; an unfortunately long list… Arobynn… Endovier… Maeve… Erawan… Deanna… it goes on & on💙) and reclaiming it, to have it stolen again (she learns in Wendlyn & and then back to Rifthold with it gone, she unleashes magic only to be drained, gains strength & is possessed by Deanna until she burns out). Plus another “incurable malady” because the power talk she has with Brannon, how it makes her lose them, her, it’s hers but it’s always been her fear too (her parents) it goes on…

Come one, come all, it's happenin' again — her refusing to think Sam is dead, even seeing it, then fighting Rourke for him, and ending up trapped anyway. The King (who killed her family) facing her again, and off to Endovier (pried from her freedom or even a chance). Back to the King to be his butcher, still chased by monsters. Running through the castle to save Chaol from a fate she is screaming to her fear is not true (not again) only to find the letter and go cold & off to slaughter for him again. Running for Nehemia because “this time she would be fast enough”. The look in Rowan’s eyes as he turns to tell her & she begs him not to but Endovier’s people (her people) were slaughtered. “Ellywe is burning”… That crippling ache & fear & rightful paranoia; death always too few steps behind her. The “fate” for her by Elena, Deanna, & Mala… the lock, the key; the love, the losses.

Soon they'll go home to their husbands, Smug 'cause they know they can trust him— the bitter resentment of those who get to have that; trust, family, happiness… something more… something not lost… then when she does, the ache of the world they remain stuck in.

Walking in circles like she was lost — her going to the grave veiled in black as they avoid her grief like a plague

Say it once again with feeling, How the death rattle breathing, Silenced as the soul was leaving, The deflation of our dreaming, Leaving me bereft and reeling, My beloved ghost and me, Sitting in a tree D-Y-I-N-G — I mean this has been Aelin’s entire life, so much feeling so much silence so much screaming, not believing Arobynn, or Dorian, or Chaol, but seeing it. Being forced to take lives, and watch people lose them. Almost having hope, Chaol, or Dorian, or freedom, and then it happens again. The shell of herself and the “death she became”. Her watching the world from the woods on the anniversary…

*I’m in pain now… time to go read…😅😬🤦‍♀️* but hey Who’s Afraaaid of Little Old Me? also works and that’s way more pump-up kick-ass jams😅😂🤣

[nogenderbee]

HEY THAT 🗿 ANON EARLIER OK I DIDNT NOTICE THE OPEN TIL END OF JULY THING OMG- 😭😭😭 ANYWAYS

⊱ What nickname would you call your lover?

Sorry for this but babe (🤢) and love, prolly a nickname for them too

⊱ What are your hobbies?

I really like to draw, read, and write (my fanfiction sideblog hiding in the corner rn...)

⊱ What's your perfect date idea?

Going out to get coffee or something and cuddling

⊱ What's something you hate in others? (like a personality trait or behavior for example)

Definitely apathy, people who brag wayyy too much, and victim blamers

⊱ What are yours main 3-5 (or more if you want!) personality traits?

my self confidence is like a metronome between high and low 😍, I think I'm funny, I can insult people without noticing i hurt their feelings, I'm really self-conscious and I'm touch starved (but sort of scared to initiate touch due to past experiences), I make jokes to cope with how much I hate myself and I'm pretty sensitive

⊱ What's activity/hobby do you like?

Tbh dancing and singing is sick but that's all of the characters 😭😭😭 probably baking i love sweets sm

⊱ What's activity/hobby you don't like?

Definitely American football-

Hiii! Again sorry for late answer on your question and here you go!

So I pair you with...

🥁🥁🥁

Mizuki Akiyama!

⊱ so first nicknames! They don't mind if you call them by some nickname you think of or "love", or "babe". Although they do find "love" more charming

⊱ as for your hobbies, I didsgree to believe that they didn't found your writing blog by accident and spoiled it with compliments without knowing it's yours. But let's say few things about other hobbies too! So I feel like they enjoy reading but it simply depends on genre. As for drawing, they're used to it and all the problems that come with it thanks to their friend so you can count on their support!

⊱ and they also adore they idea of just cuddling together! They're not necessary the type to always drink coffee, only from time to time but they can go along with tea or hot chocolate while you enjoy your own drink

⊱ they're pretty used to insulting thanks to their friend I'm not bullying Ena here I promise so they can handle few insults and just brush them off, but be prepared for comeback! Since your sensitive tho, they'll make sure to not make them intense and to make it obvious it's all just sarcastically. As for your yocih starvation, you can be sure that with them you'll get more than enough of affections! And of course, they'll only give you support through your worse times!

⊱ And finally, you both obviously like dancing and singing! But you also like baking! There definitely were many ocassions when both of you just baked few sweets that you had wanted to try and most of the time they turned out pretty good!

You and Mizuki were right now cuddling in one of your beds. You were both comfortably laying udners the shears while the big spoon had their arms wrapped around little spoon who had their face in others chest, shoulder or neck. Of course your partner, no matter in which position they were, they had fun just playing with your hair while lazy ramblings could be heard from maybe even both of us.

"Your hair is so soft... Did you bought yourself new shampoo or something? You need to tell me it! It's REALLY good!"

They went quiet for a second and after your answer or just few minutes of silent and playing with your hair, they received a small idea~

"Hey I think I may have a hairstyle that'll suit you! Want to try it out? It'll look great, I promise!"

❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉

[sleeqwalkinq]

vent . tw || — bpd . manipulation . self harm .

all i ever do is hurt him. genuinely. all. of. the. time. and i cant stand myself for it. i do it subconsciously. i want to be able to stop but it is so hard. i know im manipulating him but i cannot stop no matter how hard i try. i dont know why he puts up with me. before , like a yr into our relationship i was fine and we were happy and i kept all of my bpd fits to myself. now that were almost 4yrs in, i take it out on him because im more comfortable. being more comfortable with someone does NOT warrant you abusing them daily. it hurts to see and hear him hurting because of me. but i cannot stop. it ruins me day by day because i either am getting so mad at him over random things that have no value to warrant my anger or im just straight up telling him he doesnt love me anymore because he didnt answer my text fast enough. he tells me it hurts him constantly and i always say i understand and wont do it again but i always do it again without fail. he told me that when i tell him he deserves someone better it hurts him because it feels like i dont wanna be in a relationship with him anymore and i kept doing it until he basically told me he was gonna break up with me if i kept doing it!!!!!!!

i want to be good for him, i really do. i know he loves me dearly and wants to be with me forever, yet i constantly need reassurance from him.

at one point this year it got so bad whenever he was with me and he made me slightly upset i would lock the door to the room i was in and start cutting myself as he banged on the door to beg me to stop. this is a really awful thing for me to admit to. at the time i didnt do it for manipulation i do want to clarify. i was in an awful mental state and had nothing else to turn to when things went wrong. i see now that this is SUPER manipulative and i should have NEVER done it no matter how much i was hurting and unable to cope. the guilt that follows me for this haunts me everyday and i constantly want to apologize for this but im not sure how. ill tell him someday.

i really want to reach out for help for my problems because i am pretty sure the only way ill get better is with therapy, but ive been putting off finding a nee therapist. my mother doesnt know about any of these things, and is sending me to therapy about my fathers passing, but i want to also have it as an outlet to treat or lessen my abusive behavior. i want to get better . i need to get better. it destroys me everyday knowing all i ever do is abuse the ones i love. i truly do not want to atall. it tears me apart. living with this mental illness is ripping me apart.

also another thing that i just wanna add— I AM NOT HOPPING ON THE BPD BANDWAGON. i understand that its considered a “trendy” mental illness but i would like to clarify i am no where near that. infact- i have been researching and questioning about bpd for YEARS. wayyy before it became a “trend” to have it. if i could choose a reality where i was normal- i would. this illness is destroying my relationships and my mental wellbeing. anyone who self diagnoses from tiktok who has not done proper research is fucking stupid. why would you want to live with an illness that does irreparable damage to you and all of your relationships? who would want to constantly unwillingly abuse their parter, friends, siblings… etc. who would want to deal with hallucinations? who in their right mind would want to unwillingly get so physically and mentally attached to someone that if you dont speak to them for more than a few days you start to genuinely lose your mind and question if they still really want to be with you? who would want any of this? i dont think they understand how horrible this illness is to live with and it pisses me off.

anyways yeah. downloaded tumblr for this because i wanted to get shit off my chest . i hope i can also use this account in the future to listen to my silly alex g as i type about my issues. its 1:57 am — goodnight all.

[kirishimas-manly-eyeliner]

➴ are we supposed to share a bed?

pairings: sawamura daichi, ryūnosuke tanaka, koshi sugawara, tsukishima kei, tadashi yamaguchi, shoyo hinata, tobio kageyama, yu nishinoya, asahi azumane x gn! reader (karasuno boys)

warnings: none! pure fluff hehe <3

KARASUNO BOYS WITH THE FANFIC TROPE: THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED (...and a couch.)

KEI TSUKISHIMA

good luck on trying to get him to go to sleep comfortably on the bed.

“i’ll sleep on the couch,” he deadpans, and flops over onto the cushion that is clearly too small for him. tsukishima stays there, caught up in his thoughts for a while. tossing and turning on the bed, his head nearly falling off the arm rests and his ankles sticking out in an uncomfortable position. 

after a long day of practice, you nearly fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. the only thing preventing you from getting a good night’s rest is the sounds of the couch’s old springs shrieking and creaking. “tsukishima, you should just lie down here instead... it’s a lot more comfortable anyway.”

you can hear him scoff with his head buried under a throw pillow. “no.”

there was really no way of getting through to him, was there?

but the problem was, right before you were about to fall asleep, right as your eyelids got heavy and you were finally about to go into a blissful sleep for the first time in months, tsukishima would keep moving around

you didn’t mean to be this cranky. you were exhausted. “tsuki, c’mon. you sound uncomfortable. sleep here.”

tsukishima immediately stopped moving. for a moment, you thought he might come and join you. he doesn’t.

but eventually, when he’s so uncomfortable to the point where he can’t stop tossing and turning and you’re sound asleep, he’ll crawl into bed with you WAYYY later. no way is he going to snuggle in bed with you while you’re still awake.

instead, with his body heavy from lack of sleep, he lies down next to you, praying that you don’t wake up, and falls asleep like a light.

you wake up with his arms wrapped around you.

TADASHI YAMAGUCHI

precious!! little!! baby!!

tadashi will say he prefers the couch-- not because he doesn’t like you, he’s just afraid of the actual part of sleeping next to you. he’s watched enough movies to know what happens when the two characters fall asleep on the same bed. they wake up, hand-in-hand, completely flustered-- and tadashi is convinced that he’d combust if that ever happened. he just wants to make sure that you’re comfortable.

“are you sure?” you ask. “you worked really hard today... and your serves were amazing! take the bed. i’ll sleep on the couch.”

tadashi shakes his head. “i-it’s okay. really.”

“mm...” you think for a moment, but then smile. “you can always sit up here with me, if you want.”

tadashi immediately wraps his arms around himself. “n-no! it’s okay! really! i wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable...”

you smile playfully. “don’t worry about it. i don’t mind, i know you wouldn’t do anything weird. come on. i’m tired, you’re tired, let’s just go to bed, yeah?”

after a few more moments of talking and trying to let yamaguchi know that you genuinely don’t mind, you convince yamaguchi to sleep with you on the bed instead of him going on the ripped couch. 

he’ll be lightly hugging himself, afraid that if he outstretched his arms, they would wrap around you in his sleep. that was the last thing he wanted-- for you to feel uncomfortable around him.

(jokes on him, you two both wake up cuddling regardless)

SHOYO HINATA

without a moment’s pass, once you two settle into your rooms for the night, he throws his bags down, and DRAGS YOU DOWN WITH HIM ON THE BED

unlike the others, there’s no discussion on who goes on the couch and who goes on the bed. after games, hinata is always a little overly confident and ends up oulling you down on the bed next to him. he doesn’t even shower. he’s exhausted.

you laugh (his energy is contagious), “hinata-?? uherm don’t you wanna shower first?”

he laughs out loud, stretching his arms out. “but i’m exhausteeedddd!”

he fluffs the pillows in an insanely cute way and goes, “okay. i can sleep on the left side, you can sleep on the right so that we don’t crash into each other during the night. is that okay?”

you nod. hinata smiles before changing (and then he goes to rinse off) and plops onto bed, snuggling under the covers. he’ll casually get out his phone and scroll through the feed, maybe play a couple of games, and casually talk about his day with you, until he realizes that you didn’t respond.

he peered over, finding that you were sleeping.

he smiles softly, before the idea that he had actually JUST nonchalantly slept with you next to him, your face only a few inches away from his, and the realization finally settles in as his face burns against his pillow.

TOBIO KAGEYAMA

"I mean... If you want."

kageyama says that phrase at least ten times throughout the process of trying to figure out the idea of “only one bed.”

he’s trying his best not to be too aggressive or pushy around you, but it’s clear that he’s cranky and wants some sleep after a long day. his face is in a pout from exhaustion, his bags are sprawled across the floor and the last thing he looks like he wants to do is get a restless sleep on the couch.

“so uh,... do you want the couch or the bed-?” you ask. kageyama shrugs. but looking at how tired he is, his sunken eyes, and the way his knees were nearly unbuckling, you say gently, “i’m gonna take the couch.”

“okay.”

you take the couch and kageyama lies down on the bed, but exhausted as he is, a part of him is thinking with a twinge of guilt, “the couch must be really uncomfortable.. are they okay?”

so instead, kageyama peers over and finds you wrapping your arms around yourself from the couch, and he sighs, long and tired, and kind of just- STANDS over you on the couch like 🧍🏻 ...

“hey.”

you look up, confused and half-asleep. “...mmph?”

“sleep with me.”

the words tumble out before kageyama can stop them, but you’re just so heavy with sleep that you nod as if nothing had happened and flop onto the bed, your entire body sinking into the soft mattress. you wake up with a blanket wrapped around you, and kageyama on the floor from faling off.

RYUNOSUKE TANAKA

surprisingly, he has so much more respect and privacy for you than you may suspect. when tanaka enters the room, he’s lowkey kind of tense, but he sets his bags down and helps you, “uhem... do you need anything? tooth brush? tooth paste? extra blankets-?” he sees you as the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. the way he stares at you is something that no one else can compare to. 

you laugh. “nah, i’m good. but thanks!” you look around, pointing towards the couch and raising an eyebrow at how uncomfortable it looks. “you and i both had a rough day... how about we just sleep on the bed then? i-if you’re comfortable with it, that is.”

CONGRATULATIONS YOU BROKE TANAKA

this awkward blob who’s just insanely flustered because holy crow, his best friend AND crush is suggesting they both share the bed. he then flashes out a grin and a thumbs up, “alright! sounds good!”

you grin back as you two both get ready for bed and lie down.

and to confirm, he has absolutely no shame once he gets more comfortable and calm for cuddling you (with your consent BECAUSE CONSENT IS SO SEXY)

tanaka will talk about his entire day with you in such a free way. everything is so easy with him-- he constantly thinks that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on and tries not to say it out loud every five seconds. tanaka will hold your hand and try to make you laugh multiple times just for the sake of it <3

YU NISHINOYA

"i-i can sleep on the couch! really!"

...he’s lying.

you know when you offer someone food, you know, just for the sake of being nice-- and this small part of you hopes that they don’t take the food?

that’s what nishinoya is casually saying, explaining that he can “sleep on the couch.” in reality, he just wants to cuddle next to you, hand-in-hand as you two casually talk about your day. he wants to play with your hair and kiss you and make you laugh. he wants to see you smile and cuddle you, wake up in the morning hand-in-hand as someone you can trust.

“uHmMM... okay, you can take the couch then,” you say, completely oblivious.

a small part of nishinoya dies inside with those words. “erm, okay. goodnight!!” he’s trying to sound cheerful for your sake, but he can’t help but feel disappointed.

that’s what he wanted, right? you stumble over to the bed, your legs tired and knees buckling after a long day as you pull your covers over yourself. “mm, goodnight, noya!” 

but later, you see that nishinoya is standing above the couch a lot like kageyama did-- contemplating whether or not he should speak out about wanting to go on the bed next to you or going on the couch. once he hears that you’ve stopped shuffling under your bed covers, he thinks you’re asleep and stares at you-- only to find your eyes staring into his.

he blurts the words out. “can i- i mean, only if it’s okay with you, can i sleep on the bed with you?!”

you hesitate, but then raise an eyebrow and your upper lip curls with a playful grin. “oh?”

nishinoya laughs and gives a small shrug.

“c’mere.”

KOSHI SUGAWARA

he's such a sweetheart.

sugawara knows that you work really hard to help the boys stay healthy. he knows the work you put into cleaning up and trying to decide what’s best for them and yourself. “you can pick! i don’t really mind. go ahead, do whatever you’d like.”

(a part of him is secretly begging that you choose to go with him instead on the bed. will he say that out loud? probably not, but he loves you so much and wants you to know that with every fiber in his body.)

“you can pick,” you say, for a change. there’s a moment where sugawara is surprised, but then relaxes and nods along with it. “i can, erm, sleep on the couch. if that’s easier for you,” he blushes and scratches the back of his neck. your stomach sinks. did he really want to sleep on the couch-

“but if you’re okay with it, we can both share the bed-”

“okay!” the words spill out of you before you can stop them. you clear your throat, trying to contain your excitment. “i mean. okay.”

sugawara laughs and takes your hand, and he props up the pillows (strikes me as the guy to have a playlist i am just saying) and asks you about your day. 

he will definitely end up cuddling you in his sleep. in the morning, you wake up on his chest with his arms around you, and when you look on the other side of the bed-- you’re no longer alone. a soft smile with friendly eyes is staring back at you.

“did you sleep well, princess?”

DAICHI SAWAMURA

GENTLEMAN GENTLEMAN GENTLEMAN

he knows that you're private about a lot of stuff, but he'll definitely be a lot like suga and make sure whatever happens is best for you. daichi will make sure that above all else, you feeling comfortable is top priotity. he’ll try to be a good guy for you and let you make yourself at home-- heck, he probably brought lights or something in case you were afraid of the dark because hE’S JUST THAT CONSIDERATE

daichi, out of all of them, will immediately address that he’ll take the couch first. “i’ll take the couch. it’s been a long day.”

at this point, daichi’s brain is on autopilot after so long and he just immediately assumes that you’ll take the bed. he wants you to feel as rested as possible for the next day, so daichi is just about ready to flop around the couch, when you say:

“daichi... you should take the bed-! i can go on the couch. or we could share.”

HE DOUBLE TAKES

HE DOUBLE TAKES AND ASKS YOU AGAIN

a laugh bubbles up insdie your chest (he blushes and prays you can’t see it in the dark of the night) and you drag his arm to the bed, fighting back the urge to kiss him on the nose. “sleep. you deserve it, team captain.”

he leans back, grinning. “alrighty then. get plenty of sleep. i’ll be sure to see you tomorrow morning, angel.”

ASAHI AZUMANE

HE'S SCARED

HE THINKS HES TOO INTIMIDATING OR TOO BIG AND THAT YOU'LL BE UNCOMFORTABLE

asahi is practically soluting as if speaking to a general. “i’ll take the couch!”

he’s well aware that it’s too small for him. but if it means that you don’t have to deal with the idea of sleeping in the corner of the room with cobwebs, that was good enough for him.

you nod slowly, smiling gratefully. the couch couldn’t be that bad... right?

as you cuddle into your sheets, there’s a moment wher eyou open your eyes and finally look at the back of the room, to find asahi in a strange position-- his head is falling off the armrest and his feet are dangling from the front.

he’s shuffling, changing positions, but it’s clear that he’s nervous and isn’t too sure what you think of him like this.

“come here, big guy.”

you outstretch your arms and pat the side of your bed, and he doesn’t look to sure. it’s almost beauty and the beast all over again-- just the roles are slightly edited.

“oh-hkay!” asahi smiles slightly, the tips of his ears turning pink. “are you sure?”

you nod. “sure i’m sure. now come here, ‘m sleepy.”

asahi laughs softly and lies down, trying to avoid going too much in the center in fear of taking up too much space. “hey, it’s fine.”

you wake up with his arm as a pillow and your head resting on his shoulder.

🕭 reblog | comment | like 🕭

did you take care of yourself today? you deserve to, no matter what you got done today. remember to drink water to nourish your sexc body and to give you strength!! i love you so much and i’m proud of you, and know that the hq boys would be, too! remember to get plenty of rest and do what makes you happy above all else. if you needed to hear it today, you’re valid. and you are not alone.

join my family!

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☂ small little playlist for imagining scenarios in your head to help you sleep <3 ☂ 

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[rogue-durin-16]

EIGHTEEN, CRAZY (Part I/?)

"Terms And Stipulations"

Summary: With her highschool experience coming to an end, Y/n finally grows tired of her parents' long lasting effort to make her the perfect girl; if they refuse to let her live her best life, she'll make them live their worst— and what can possibly be worse than having your lovely daughter mingling with Eddie Munson?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Genre: mostly fluff/fake dating

Tags:

Eighteen, crazy: —

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, drug use (don't smoke kids)

A/N: I see Eddie Munson is pulling us all out of writer's block. I'm listening on repeat to 18 by Anarbor and it SCREAMS both Eddie and fake dating, so here we are. I'm guessing this is going to have from 4 to 8 parts, we'll see how it unfolds. Anyway, enjoy my darlings <3

Prologue Part II Part III part IV

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I rushed into history class, plopping down on my chair with a sigh. Luck seemed to be smiling at me, since Mrs. Click was not waiting in class as per usual.

My friends, sitting in the proximities of my desk, wasted no time to turn to me in search of answers.

"So? what'd he say?"

"He said yes."

"He said yes?" Linda's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her skull.

"Why would he said no?" I questioned quietly, pulling out my book without breaking eye contact with my three friends.

"Because you asking him out it's so weird and unprompted."

"It also kinda seems like you're pulling a nasty joke on him." Liz pointed out with a wince.

"And he hates us." George finished. "Not us but y'know."

"Okay yeah." I cleared my throat, opening the book on a random page. "But I didn't... ask him out."

"What did you do then?"

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

Halfway through my march towards a table I would have never guessed I would find myself getting close to, my resolution started to falter. Suddenly, asking Eddie Munson to date me didn't seem like a good idea anymore.

Lots of things could go wrong, specially in the high school's cafeteria. Positive side was that I had witnesses, in case Eddie Munson went batshit.

Though it felt like the 'what if's would make me go batshit. What if he said no? He despised everyone belonging to some kind of popular crowd; what if he said yes? I would be stuck with the creepiest boy in Hawkins High for who knows how long.

Oh God, I didn't even like him; I would have to fake a whole relationship— how does one even fake a relationship?

Too lost in my second-guessing turmoil of thoughts, I hadn't realized how close I was getting to my initial destination.

Slowing down the pace, I spared a look over my shoulder at the place my friends had been sitting with me mere seconds ago, only to find them already leaving. Not just them, everyone was beginning to get up.

Lunch break was about to be over.

Maybe I still had the chance to just turn around and leave, too. Maybe this was, in fact, a horrible idea; maybe—

"Did you get lost?" My eyes opened wider than I thought possible, my heart dangerously stammering at the sound of Eddie Munson's voice. When I redirected my attention to him, I found the boy and his friends rising from their seats too. "You're wayyy too far away from the" he waved his hand on a mocking manner towards the place where I came from. "boring, popular section."

"I... Would— would you be interested on making a deal with me?"

Panic crossed his gaze, partially covered by his long hair, before he swiftly pulled me away from nosey ears. "I'm not selling you anything at school."

"Not that kind of deal!" It was my turn to panic, looking around in order to check no one had heard us, much like he had just done. "I— I need you to date me— not actually date me, though." Confusion made itself prominent im him the more I talked. "It's more like, for show. I—" a quick glance at the clock let me know that we had to get going. "Shit— okay, basically, I'm trying to give my parents a heart attack, and dating you would be ideal for that. Also, you're the farthest thing that exists from the 'boring, popular section'," I added quotation marks to his words, making him quirk a brow at me. "which is a plus for my personal development. I wanna... Experiment? If that makes sense."

"So you want me to... pretend to date you, and borderline corrupt you." I gave him a firm nod. "And I get something out of it too?" I shook my head affirmatively once more, tapping my fingers on my backpack's strap in an anxious manner. His head tilted, eyes landing on my hand. "Why don't you head to class before you dig a hole into that bag? We can meet once we're out of here to talk about terms and stipulations."

I blinked in disbelief. "Wait- is that a yes?"

"I mean, Y/n Y/l/n just walked over to me and asked to date me so she can piss off her parents." The grin that had been subtly twisting the corner of his lips grew wider into an amused smile; I myself couldn't help but breathe out a chuckle at his statement. "It's a yes. At least for now."

"Well, that was easy." The tension on my shoulders eased. "I gotta—" I pointed at the door, walking backwards.

"Head to class, yeah."

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

"We... made a deal?" I questioned, more than stated.

"A deal." My nod made George huff. "You made a deal with Eddie Munson."

"I'm— okay— LISTEN. I'm not letting Eddie Munson be my first... Anything, 'kay?"

It wasn't a lie, but it was certainly not the reason why I ended up not asking him out. What I told my friends, however, sounded way better than 'I panicked and didn't have time to back out'.

"Why? He's a good kisser."

"Liz?" George wasn't the only one sporting a confused frown at our friend's comment, but he was the one to voice our thoughts. "you're making... some weird statements today."

"Apologies for actually getting to know him." The girl responded in a passive agressive tone.

"It's not— you kissed—? I don't wanna know." Linda pretended to shiver and gag before returning everyone's attention to me. "What did you two agree on?"

"Not sure yet."

"NOT SURE YET?"

"Dude, I had like two minutes to brief him!" I defended myself, throwing a bundle of paper at a flustered George.

Luckily, Mrs. Click entered the class just in time to save me from an unnecessary reprimand.

"We'll talk after class. Jeez!" I informed the boy sitting by my desk.

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

"So, let me get this straight." Eddie took one last drag of his joint before putting it out on the wall his back rested against. "You're gonna pay me for dating you, Y/n Y/l/n, Miss Perfect?"

"Sixty bucks per week, yeah." Eddie's eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"I'm- no?"

"But you said—"

"No, I mean- I'll do it, yes. Just... sixty bucks?"

"You want more?"

"I— no! You're making me feel like a prostitute!" I was about to apologize, not quite understanding why, when Eddie shook his head in the negative. "Listen, 20 bucks and you tutor me in English and History. I wanna graduate this year."

"That's all?"

"I... guess?" He scratched the back of his neck in a thoughtful manner.

"Alright."

"So" Eddie folder his arms, leaning forward. "which are the terms?"

"Easy. Drop me off and pick me up from home as much as you can— I'll pay for the gas, don't worry about that." I made a stop, searching in his gaze a sign of any negative response, but he hummed affirmatively, prompted me to go on. "Walk me from one class to another from time to time."

"Isn't that gonna mine your reputation?"

"Uh, yeah, that's the point." He snorted, shaking his head, face casted down for an instant. "I'll invite you over as soon as I can, but we'll go on a few dates too—"

"You got this all planned out?"

"Kinda." I rubbed my hands together with a nervous chuckle. "You're allowed to hold my hand, hug me,—"

"No hooking up, I'm guessing?" He inquired, pointing at me with his index finger.

"You're guessing right." I took my hands to my back in an attempt to come off less anxious.

"What about making out?"

"Off the table."

"... Kissing?"

"Nope." I put emphasis on the 'p', averting my eyes from his.

"You're tying my hands, princess." He whined, tilting his head to the side.

"Don't call me 'princess'." I warned, already catching a glimpse of the complications this arrangement would have.

"What do I call you then?" There was a tinge of annoyance in his tone, as if he knew it was doomed to fail.

"By my name?" His dark eyes stared straight into my soul with incredulity, triggering a groan out of me. "Ugh! okay, you can use petnames."

"And what about the kissing part?"

"No kissing!"

Eddie pushed himself off the wall, throwing his head back and his hands up in desperation. "I don't exactly wanna kiss you, but no one's gonna buy this!"

"Jeez! Alright, kisses on the cheek and forehead are good."

With a sigh, he recovered his composure. "Now, that I can work with." He nodded, shoving his hands on his back pockets. "And hand kisses?"

"... What?'

"Hand kisses. Y'know—" Eddie reached out his hand, asking for me to do the same. For some reason, I did.

Taking a soft hold of my hand, he raised it high enough to be able to place a chaste kiss on the back of it with a subtle bow of his head, not once breaking eye contact.

"That."

"uhh okay," I cleared my throat, taking aback by the sweet action. "hand kisses are okay too." I confirmed, letting go of Eddie's grasp.

"Throwing my arm over your shoulders?"

"That's okay."

"You said hand holding was good, right?"

"Yup." I moved to reach for my backpack, which had been tossed to the ground for my comfort, but Eddie was much faster to bend down and pick it up. I quietly thanked him, taking the bag from his grasp. "One more thing, you gotta ask me out."

"Tomorrow's good?" I gave him an affirmative response, following his hands' movements with my eyes while he dug in his pockets for a lighter and a cigarette. "Do I stay under the radar? or are you into dramatic shit?"

"Surprise me." I responded, not wanting to give it much thought.

"Really?"

"I'll say yes anyway." My feet began to carry me backwards while we finished the conversation.

"Fair point." He agreed, more to himself than to me, and proceeded to light his cigarette.

I waved him goodbye and turned on my heels, ready to walk my way to my friends, awaiting for me at the building's entrance.

"Hey, Y/l/n!" Eddie's call made me look over my shoulder. "this is not a joke right?"

"Nope, I'm serious!"

"Promise?"

"I swear!" I yelled, due to the increasing distance put between us by my steps.

"Alright, just checking!" he shouted back, taking a drag and letting the cigarette rest between his lips. " 'cause this is nuts!"

"So I've heard!" I responded with a laugh.

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

"And you have no idea where he's gonna do it?"

"How many times do I have to tell you guys?" I looked up from my notebook, forehead still resting on one of my hands while the dominant one tapped my pen on the wooden picnic table we occupied at the yard. "I gave him full liberty."

"What if he was just fucking with you?" George wondered, making our heads turn. "I mean, it's pretty wild— the whole situation. I wouldn't be surprised."

"Guess we're about to find out." Liz, who had sat by my side for me to help her with her English homework, pointed with her pen at Eddie, strolling towards us through the grass.

"Y/l/n!"

I had spotted him near the parking lot long ago. He had been there for as long as we had, if not more, but Eddie seemed to have chosen to wait until there was a considerable amount of students out to witness his move.

He jogged the last few feet keeping us apart and proceeded to climb, first the opposite bench, for Linda and George's dismay, and then the table, earning complaints from Liz.

"Y/n Y/l/n." I was quick to remove my things from the surface, transferring them to my lap before the long-haired boy could step on them.

I quirked an eyebrow, barely suppressing a knowing smile when he crouched in order to be eye-to-eye with me. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, yes." He cleared his throat, shoving Liz's books away in order to sit on the table, letting his feet rest on our bench. "The most beautiful girl in Hawkins High —meaning you, of course—" I chewed my lower lip to stop the laughter. "has me under a spell."

I couldn't help but break character for a moment at his casual explanation. Luckily, my laugh could easily pass as a nervous chuckle. "A spell?"

"Yup. You see, the only thing I can think about is her— day and night. I feel like I'm losing my mind." He motioned at his head, whispering the last sentence with perturbation. "can't focus on anything else. Can't sleep, can't eat—" he counted with his fingers and exaggerated facial expression. "of course can't study math, right Lizzy?"

"Yeah, blame it on her, tough guy." Liz teased, amused by the interaction.

"That's dreadful." I decided to go along with it, leaning on ever so slightly.

"It is. So I saw you across the yard" he signaled over his shoulder with his thumb. "and I told myself, 'hell, Eddie, why don't you shoot your shot?' " He leaned back, propping himself up with his hands.

"You're asking me out?"

"That's exactly what I'm doing." I took a discreet look around. Eddie had definitely turned some heads with his little number; now, at least a dozen pairs of expectant eyes and ears not so subtly tried to catch on our conversation. "So, what's it gonna be? Will you free me from my missery and let me take you out on a date? Or will you keep me under your spell until I forget how to breathe?"

"Sooo dramatic." I mockingly whispered, trying to ignore the fact that my cheeks were heating up at his words. "Alright, I'll go on a date with you."

"Magnificent." His upper body leaped forward, making me lean back in surprise, right before he climbed back to stand upright on the table once more. "We'll finalize the details while I drive you home."

"What—" I had gotten tangled on the show we had just put up, that I had forgotten one of Eddie's tasks was to drive me back to my house. "Today?"

"Yup!" He turned to jump off and undo his previous walk. "I'll meet you at your locker after class!"

A moment of silence took over among my group after the metalhead's depart, as he had left us all in too much of a shock to immediately start commenting on it.

It was, in fact, an outsider who started a conversation. Steve Harrington, who had been sitting close to us, had walked over.

"Hey, Y/l/n." He crouched down between my and Liz, his eyes fixed on Eddie. "Not to be nosey, but what the hell was that about?"

"Eddie Munson asked her out." Linda broke the news Harrington, whose eyebrows went so far up that nearly touched his hairline. "She said yes."

"Are you outta your mind?" Steve got up, running his hand through his hair. "Your parents will kill you."

"You think?" I questioned, looking up with a smile.

"What the— don't sound so happy about it! Jesus." He scanned me with something similar to sympathy plastered on his face before patting my back. "They drove you crazy, huh? Holy shit."

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

POV: You Got Wayyy Too High

Warnings: Drug use (weed lol)

Aizawa Shouta/ Eraserhead

“Hey, what are you doing?” asked Aizawa as he plopped his bag at the door. You were trying to smoke weed from a pipe, but instead of lighting the actual herb, you were trying to heat it up from the bottom of the pipe.

You’d never smoked weed, but wanted to try it and bought the supplies from a local smoke shop, as well as buying some good stuff from your friend.

Unfortunetly, you also didn’t bother to look up how to actually use a pipe, instead just relying on knowledge you gained from drug documentaries.

This meant that you only knew how people heated up heroin with a flame under the spoon, which meant that surely you could do the same with weed.

“No, no, no, no. Stop that,” he ordered. You were his age, but nonetheless still buckled under his stern tone.

“Look, do you need me to show you how to do it?” he asked, gently taking the glass pipe from your hand. You nodded.

“Watch carefully,” he ordered, as he properly lit up the herb as he inhaled the smoke. He then passed it to you, watching you carefully to make sure you were doing it right. Soon, you got the hang of it.

Even sooner, though, you were a coughing mess.

“Calm it down, there. Don’t take huge puffs. You’re not impressing anyone here, y/n,” he scolded, taking another puff. He did it effortlessly, as if he’d done it for years. (He has.)

You wanted to impress him, though, even though he seemed to not care what you did. You just wanted to prove to him that you were ~cool~.

Well, this ended up in you looking very... uncool.

While Aizawa was chilling with a pretty decent high, you were laid across the bed, starfish style, blasting music in your ears. You were honestly vibing though, so Aizawa didn’t mess with you. For now.

The next day, he definitely teased you a little bit about how totally out of it you were, and how you listened to the same song on loop for 3 hours.

“How did you know that?” You asked, cocking a brow.

“Uh, because your headphones weren’t plugged in?”

Yagi Toshinori/ All Might

He was smoking when you came home, and though he tried to hide it, you smelled it. He acted as if he was just caught as a 17 year old in his mom’s house.

“Uh, no, it’s nothing! I...I don’t do anything like that!” He insisted.

“Toshi, come on. I can smell it,” you smiled. He covered his face.

“Please, please, keep this between you and I...I only do it because it helps with the pain and-”

You cut him off, “ I dont care why you do it, just lemme have some already!” 

Of course, you were just teasing him, and he knew that, but he couldn’t help but ask, “...You smoke?”

You shook your head playfully.

“If you’ll let me, I’d like to try some, though!” 

He passed it to you, and you took a way-too-long drag. Instantly, you were doubled over, coughing and hacking your lungs out. 

He patted your back firmly.

“Since this is your first time, you’re gonna cough a little. Just try to take smaller puffs and take deep breaths. There you go.”

Once you recovered, and Yagi got his turn, he handed the joint back to you. It continued to be passed back and forth between you two until it was finally no longer than a centimeter. 

For a moment, you both just chilled out on the couch together, just vibing. That was until Toshinori noticed your goofy, dreamy facial expression. He chuckled to himself, but that was all you needed to become hysterical, laughing so hard that you couldn’t breathe. Seeing you laugh so much of course made Toshi a mess as well, which only added to your decent into utter madness.

Eventually, though, you both calmed down, and Toshi excused himself so that he could go take a quick bath. He often did this whenever he smoked, so that the warm water could aid even more in soothing his aching muscles and creaky bones.

So you were left alone. Totally unattended. At first, everything was totally fine.

However, as you started to actually feel the effects of the herb, you began to panic.

Is this normal? Does everyone else feel like this when they smoke? Oh God, this isn’t right...oh fuck, I’m gonna be the first dumbass to OD on THC...fuck...

Thoughts whizzed past your brain, every single one making sure you knew how totally fucked you were.

Tears streamed silently down your cheeks as you counted your pulse with two fingers on your wrist, but you coulnd’t find a pulse.

oh fuck...i’m probably going to pass out any minute now...it’s all over...

Images of your final goodbyes to everyone you loved flashed just behind your eyes.

“How’re you holding up, pumpkin?” asked Toshi, coming back from the bath, in a robe and his golden hair still damp.

You looked at him, your eyes red and puffy.

“Toshi...I’m...I’m dying...I love you, okay?” you murmured. He would have laughed, all except he saw the genuine fear in your eyes. 

He sat down next to you, surrounding you with all of his lanky limbs. 

“You’re not dying, honey. What you’re feeling right now is totally normal, I promise. Take some nice, deep breaths for me. Come on. There you go. Good.”

He cradled you there for a good while, until he felt your tense muscles finally slacken, and your breathing evened out.

Toshi made a mental note to never let you smoke that much ever again, guilt pinching at his sides.

Fatgum/Taishiro Toyomitsu

You had taken an edible cookie from your friend. She told you it was just a small bit in there, just enough for you to feel something.

You decided to be modest, eating just half of the cookie. You didn’t notice any effects, and out of sheer boredom you decided to go ahead and eat the rest of it. No harm in that, right?

Well, an hour later, it kicked in. You were expecting to feel something interesting, but you definately weren’t expecting anything like this at all. 

Everything seemed so far away. Even your breathing sounded like it was coming down a long corridor and echoing to your ears. You could feel your soul swimming in your body. 

Fatgum, who you lived with, luckily finished his hero duties early, and walked into the house joyfully as usual.  He called out your name. You didn’t reply.

His large footsteps could be heard, but you were too busy thinking about how weird breathing sounds to notice. 

Fatgum soon found you collapsed on the bathroom floor, face pressed against the cool tile.

Immediately, he propped you up against the wall, looking into your eyes with great concern.

“What did you take? Y/n, look at me. What did you take?” 

You lazily looked at him, your face completely serious. As serious as it could be, anyway.

“...i...it was...edible...” you mumbled out. As soon as he understood, he was laughing hysterically.

“s..stop...s not funny...” you grumbled, punching him in the gut. 

“Alright, alright... let’s get you into bed. You’ll feel much better once you wake up,” he smiled, picking you up and bringing you into the bedroom. 

You quickly were comforted by the warm, heavy comforter. Fatgum took a moment to look at you in your groggy state, trying his best to hold back a laugh. It was so painfully obvious that you’d never done anything like this in your life. His only regret was not being around to witness your ascent into cloud 9.

Soon, though, you had drifted into dreamland.

Hizashi Yamada

You locked yourself in your bathroom, sneakily lighting up the joint you bought off of your friend. Your boyfriend was in his room, playing Fortnite or some shit, and frankly, you were embarrassed to smoke in front of him. You knew that he’d definately find something to roast you about, and he was relentless.

A couple minutes after you lit up, though, the door was basically busted down.

“HEY, HEY! You better be planning on sharing some of that!” yelled Hizashi, his hand already out and waiting. He still had his headset on, but you saw with relief that his mic was turned off. You passed it to him.

“Augh! Where the hell didja get this weak shit, y/n? Nah, this ain’t gonna cut it,” he complained, putting it out. 

“Hey! I got that from my friend, dude! What the hell?” you frowned. Before you could be too mad at the waste, though, Hizashi pulled out a small wooden box from under his bed. Opening it, he revealed his stash of entirely too much pot.

You covered your mouth, stifiling a laugh. How the fuck could you have not smelled it? 

Within five minutes, he’d rolled up a blunt, and was passing it to you, already lit. 

It was gone after a little over half an hour, and you could already feel the effects. Your eyes were dry, your stomach craving junk food, and your brain craving chill vibes.

He returned to his game, unbothered but his volume definately toned down about 5 notches. He was a lot more chill than you’d ever seen him act, ever.

You found your way into the kitchen.

Once his game was over, he met you in there. You were in front of the fridge, pulling out thing after thing. By the time he’d gotten to you, you had eaten half a jar of pickles, three pieces of cake (with your bare hands), drank a bunch of soda, and you were headed for the chips that were sitting idly on the top of the fridge.

“oh, God...what the fuck are ya up to, dude?” he groaned. He did not want to deal with this mess.

You grinned at him.  “I dunno, maan... look dude could you just get me these up here? please bro...” you giggled. He sighed dramatically, taking them.

However, instead of handing them over to you, with your dirty little fingers, he ate them.

“stoppp, bro, please lemme get some!” you pouted. He acted as if he couldn’t hear you, leaving the kitchen. You followed after him, kicking him in the shins. 

Still, he didn’t seem to notice.

“Hizashi, come on, maaannnn!” 

He laid himself on the bed, covering himself with blankets. He pulled out his phone, calling you.  “Y/n, I miss you so much, man. Come chill out!” he spoke into the phone, trying his best not to break the act. You were absolutely furious at this point, punching at him.

“I’m right here, you doughnut!!” you groaned.  Dramatically sighing, Hizashi frowned, “I really wish y/n was here to sesh with me...” all while still eating the chips. You jumped on top of him. 

Finally, you caught him off gaurd, grabbed the chips, and locked yourself back up in the bathroom. 

This time, though, he just left you be. 

[apollostears]

TEENAGE LOVE AFFAIR [ BTS ]

group: BTS

pairing: BTS x daughter!reader

warning(s): swearing

request: can you do BTS reacting to their 15 year old daughter having a boyfriend/girlfriend?

requested by: @mela3340

oomfggg this was so fun to make!! thanks for requesting the first request of 2021 :) hope you enjoy love <3

➝︎ jin

he’s literally dramatic af.

#dramaking

but no really, he’ll be shook to the gods.

like huh??? his child got a partner?!!!

my kid?!!! IN THESE STREETS?!

he would faint, then wake back up and shake her til she’s dizzy.

ok but on a more serious note, i think if he saw his daughter have genuine feelings for this person they’re with, he would support a 100%

definitely wants to meet them asap

would chaperone their dates but in a way that’s soooo cliché. i mean ugly ass disguises cliché.

will definitely have a heart attack if his daughters partner used the fake ‘yawn-over-the-shoulder’ move while at the movies.

all his daughter would hear is someone choking horrendously a few rooms behind them and instantly know it’s her dad.

will call the boys up every time she asks him to go on a date with their partner or if they can come over to hang and study.

“i’m at a lost here! it’s like i’m in the war!” jin exaggerates on the group call with his friends.

“hyung, i think you’re over exaggerating.” jungkook would say sheepishly.

with the straightest face, jin would hang up and contemplate his choice in friends.

after about the sixth month mark, i do think he’d let up a tremendous amount.

like he’s no longer breathing down her neck about them and allows them to go on dates without him, so long as she tells him where they’re going.

10/10 is the dramatic dad that goes through a midlife crisis when their daughter starts dating.

➝︎ yoongi

mans does not care.

ok lemme clarify, he doesn’t care to the extent that jin does. he trusts his daughter and her decisions and understands that this is an important part of her life. he’s gonna try his hardest to not overstep.

but deep down, he definitely is having a hard time coming to grasps that his daughter is in love and starting to enter the dating world.

he understands the pressures surrounding dating too, especially at fifteen. so he’s definitely giving a nice lil lecture about sex, safe sex, consensual sex, and commitment.

and yes, yoongi knows that most of these young love relationships don’t last long, but he wants his daughter to know that her relationship is legit to him. no matter how old she is.

will look intimidating af to their daughters bf or gf. he definitely overhears them discussing if yoongi likes them or not 💀

looks like he could kill you and will but is also such a sweetheart once you actually know him.

doesn’t do no undercover brother shit but will follow his daughter on their first few dates just because he’s worried. isn’t overbearing and keeps a good distance.

honestly, if anything it brings his daughter a lot of comfort to know her dad is there to back her up 🙂

100%!is the father that seems like they’re chill on the surface but on the inside is working overtime to not be overreactive when their child starts dating.

➝︎ namjoon

is literally the 😯 emoji

when his daughter tells him that she’s got a lover, he literally looks exactly like that emoji.

he’s like “love? what you know about that?”

is extremely confused the entire time. yes, he knows that at her age, children start experimenting with dating but he never actually thought he’d have to deal with it.

was definitely worried that he’d lose out on daddy-daughter time once she started dating.

that was his biggest fear. that his daughter wouldn’t need him anymore. she would no worries.

is deathly afraid of his daughter experiencing heartbreak. their s/o could be the perfect match for his kid, he still wouldn’t care. namjoon is going to be worried regardless.

constantly asks for updates on their relationship to see if he needs to give any advice on how to keep the relationship going.

he doesn’t see their love as something immature. namjoon values it the same way he would value an adult relationship.

which meansss giving them the birds n the bees. same as yoongi, a thorough talk on sexually transmitted diseases, birth control, safe sex, you name it.

was incredibly nervous to meet the person their daughter was dating 💀 like how you supposed to be the daddy but more scared than the actual date.

chaperones his daughter’s first couple of dates. doesn’t get in their way but definitely makes his presence known when does attend.

has a strict “have her home by 9 or else” policy.

won’t ground their child if they give them a heads up on why they would be late.

is 100% the type to be the “work in progress” dad that wishes there was a book on what to do when your teenage daughter starts dating.

➝︎ hobi

mans was like “awww my wittle baby likes somebody!”

was wayyy more excited about meeting their child’s s/o then what is deemed normal.

don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely protective of his kid but hobi understands that these things happen.

it was bound to happen that one day his daughter would start dating.

doesn’t hound his child with questions but is very curious to learn more about this bf/gf that their daughter has.

when he meets them, he’s very scary looking at first. switching into serious hobi, he intimidates the kid just a bit before breaking into a grin and letting them know he was kidding.

is the type of dad that would make their daughters’ s/o fall in love with him 💀

hobi gets along with virtually anyone so it wasn’t hard for him to bond with the s/o.

however, he does make it known that he is a father and while the kid seems to be an alright choice for his daughter, he still lets them know that he will go liam neeson on a motherfucker if necessary.

doesn’t follow his daughter on dates but somehow ends up attending some of them because they both want him around.

on the times he doesn’t go, there is a curfew in place and it’s 8 o’clock 😔

hobi is 100% the dad to become friends with their daughters’ bf/gf but still be a force to be reckon with when needed.

➝︎ jimin

probably the one who meddles in their daughters love life.

sees their daughter walkout of school with a guy and is asking fifty million questions on who he is and if she likes him.

all for her to turn around and be like “dad, i’m gay.”

and he’s like 🥺🥰 “good, boys are disgusting anyways.”

so now he’s scoping out girls that could be a potential match for his kid 💀

“what about her?”

“nah, she’s a little rude to me.”

“you know what they say! she likes you!”

“no dad. just...no.”

was not expecting the girl his daughter chooses but can totally see it once he actually gets to know her.

is constantly giving his daughter cute date ideas for her to do w her gf. definitely has a pintrest board of places for them.

will happily be a chauffeur for his daughter if necessary. this can be good and bad. good bc yayay free rides. bad because she has to deal with a jimin that wants to be on time or a jimin that makes them ten minutes late to a movie showing. there is no in between.

he doesn’t follow his daughter around. mainly because he’s always driving them but if he doesn’t, she still gives him a heads up on where they’re going.

doesn’t mind them hanging sleepovers or leaving the door closed but will totally pop up at random times to be nosey.

is definitely in his daughters corner anytime someone tries to give her and her gf a hard time for being together.

a 100% the dad that’s constantly involved in his child’s love life but not to an extreme point. is totally just excited to be there and apart of her world.

➝︎ taehyung

the motherfucker is all smug and shit talking about some “ i know ” 😏 when his daughter approaches him about her new partner.

lets be real; taehyung would know his daughter like the back of his hands. he would have suspicions that she’s seeing somebody but won’t pressure her to speak until she’s ready.

acts like the fbi when he finally meets their daughter’s partner.

is stalking all social media, finding where they work, who they guardians are, and where they grandma stay 💀🤣

but it’s really because he knows how dangerous people are and the last thing he wants is for his kids’ life to be in danger.

is definitely a hard ass to whoever his daughter ends up dating regardless of gender. will go major payne on a motherfucker real quick.

does not care if he gets caught watching out for his daughter while she’s on a date. will deadass sit there and stare them down as they look at him, completely unbothered.

after meeting their partner a few times, he’ll become a bit more loose in regards to their relationship but will still eye them wearily.

his daughter is very important to him and he’s just worried about any potential heartbreak she may experience.

“have you ever killed?”

“uh, no sir. i-i’m only fifteen...sir.”

kisses teeth, “would you kill for my daughter?”

*beat of silence, two horrified teenagers*

scoffs, “pathetic. d/n choose a new partner.”

“dad!”

seems like a hard ass and is a hard ass but it’s completely out of love.

is 100% the dad that gives their daughter’s partner a hard time and will hold such a passive face that they’ll never know if he likes them or not, but overtime will start loosening up and accept them for who they are.

➝︎ jungkook

he was thoroughly surprised.

like...she might as well had told him she was pregnant.

jk needed a moment to comprehend that his daughter...his precious jewel was dating.

just the thought sent chills down his spine with his dramatic ass.

immediately demanded to meet the person who stole his daughter from him. and when he found out it was the bad kid from school??!!! mans was heated.

i mean really? the juvenile delinquent of ALL people?

he feels this way mainly because he remembers how he was as a kid and he knows how anal teenagers can be. really just wants the best for his kid.

is present for their first date. why is that? because it was at their house with him sitting on the opposite couch, watching them like a hawk as they attempted to watch a movie.

after that, his daughter had a serious talk with him about personal space and independence.

jungkook didn’t like the fact that he had to have this talk, but he understands it’s importance. him and his daughter have a sacred bond with one another that he doesn’t wanna risk breaking all because of his overprotectiveness.

that overprotectiveness does come in handy though because their daughters’ partner is always on time when it comes to getting her and dropping her off. honestly, if his daughter ever tried to convince their partner to skip curfew, their partner would text jungkook to snitch 💀

“so...you tried to skip curfew, eh?”

“wha-? how do you know this?!”

smirks, “i see all d/n. besides, your partner knows not to cross that line with me.”

“i literally cannot stand either of you.”

this has definitely led the daughter to question if she has a relationship or if her dad has a relationship with her s/o.

after about three months of them dating, jungkook turns into a pretty chill dad to be real. at that point, he understands that he can’t protect her from pain. so, he might as well just try his best to support his daughter through everything she does.

is 100% that is overly dramatic at first and comes off as incredibly scary but eventually comes down to earth and becomes a big teddy bear 🥰

❧ join my taglist: @olamidey @knjkitten @pimpnameyannie @sweeneyblue1 @sunrayyellowhalo @exomama-random @simplyskz-maya @valkryienymph @supop @namjoonswifeyy @asparagusclifford

[leejeongz]

first time with treasure (legal line)

🔅this is my first time writing anything like this as u said so pls bare with me haha. thanks for requesting tho!🔅

FEMALE READER

hyunsuk:

⏾ probably started with a lil bit of mutual masturbation. his eyes would flicker while trying to focus on all of you until he couldn’t take it any more and he’d just ask you to suck his dick

⏾ it’s important to him that you’re comfortable so he uses pillows to support you and asks a few times if your comfortable physically. he would just stick to missionary for your first time because he doesn’t wanna “man handle” you but he might flip you over if he gets carried away.

⏾ if you’re naturally not very loud during sex, he would make up for it (a man who is NOT afraid to moan) and hopefully encourage you to be louder since it turns him on. likes hearing your breathing change too, especially when you orgasm

⏾ wants to cum on your face and finds out he really likes to see you covered in his cum so it becomes a regular thing.

“fuckk come here y/n, let’s help each other, yeah?”

jihoon:

⏾ he wishes he could be gentle for your first time together. he hopes you don’t think of him any differently after the experience, he wants you to still know that he’s your boyfriend after all and he’s not just using you even if it might seem like it

⏾ but he gets carried away even just kissing you. he doesn’t lose sight of you though, and he continues referring to you as his. in the time you’ve spent together, he thinks he’s gathered enough insight to know what you’ll like and not like in the bedroom despite never having sex before

⏾ nothing too kinky (no bdsm rn) but a whole lot of denial, not even just sexual (touch, sight etc)

⏾ it was all really sudden, but you both consented and you wouldn’t have had it either way. there was also no awkwardness after, he’d praise you for doing certain things well and he’d ask you if you enjoyed it. praise him bc that’s what he wants duh.

“i’m not touching you until you’ve taken all this in your mouth”

yoshi:

⏾ he doesn’t want to rush anything with you so he takes his time throughout the whole experience, even though he did kinda plan the evening

⏾ makes everything romantic, cooks you a meal, takes you to the bedroom which has your favourite candle burning, keeps telling you how amazing you look and how lucky he is to have you. he wants you to feel safe and comfortable.

⏾ lots of little kisses everywhere, especially your legs and stomach. he also likes to keep his hands somewhere on you while fucking, whether that be your thighs, your hips or that booty hehe

⏾ keeps it pretty vanilla but he’s in charge. it’s all in his eyes, even if you can’t see him, you can feel them piercing into your body. you’re all his.

⏾ keeps asking if you’re okay but not so many times that it ruins the mood. he genuinely wants to make sure that you’re okay and that you aren’t regretting it.

“you look so pretty, you do that so well”

junkyu:

⏾ kinda shocked when you say you’re ready/you initiate it because he hadn’t even hinted at it. if anything he feels a little guilty and wonders if he pressured you into it without even realising it but you reassured him that he didn’t.

⏾ wastes no time after you tell him. all the kisses you receive from that moment on are intense and hungry.

⏾ eats you out for a good 10 minutes which is something he’d never normally do but because it’s you, he feels like he wants to pleasure you first. as soon as he’s finished his boxers come off and it’s all on u bby, you better make him feel better than he’s ever felt before or else you’ll be punished. he doesn’t know where to put his hands, in your hair or in his, so he just settles for both even if it’s a little awkward

⏾ 11/10 pull out game for your first time, covers your stomach in cum and looks proud. sort of seals the deal, you’re his now and that’s final.

⏾ praises you a lot after sex and makes jokes of any awkward things that happened like when you accidently made a weird noise or something.

“oh, look at you, all covered in my cum. can i take a photo as a reminder of how amazing this was, princess?”

mashiho:

⏾ is the softest boy during your first time. you pair were just cuddling, soon leading to more. although unexpected, he was still prepared with a condom.

⏾ very much focused on your pleasure, almost so much that he forgets about himself at the time.

⏾ he’s smiling the whole time. he’s genuinely enjoying himself while pleasuring you and he can tell that you are too with the amount of noise you’re making. he feels proud to hear you making so much noise, he really appreciates the affirmation

⏾ stays in missionary for most of the time, being able to pepper your face with gentle kisses and show you how much he’s enjoying himself since you can see each other. he turns you over when he can feel he’s gonna cum and fucks in doggy until he pulls your and finishes all over your back.

“you’re so cute! this doesn’t hurt right? should i go faster?”

jaehyuk:

⏾ starts off as just innocent kissing that gets deeper and deeper. soon gets the hint and starts working his way kissing down your body

⏾ he lets you spend as little or as long as you want on foreplay, you’re doing most of it anyway. will acc make an effort to pleasure you with those longer fingers of his though, to the point where you have to grab his wrist and make him slow down a little

⏾ likes holding your boobs while he fucks you, might even bring them to him mouth once or twice if he can

⏾ he doesn’t really know whether you’re into anything that he’s into just yet, so he keeps it pretty vanilla, but isn’t afraid to wrap his hand around your neck or bite your ears

⏾ doesn't last very long because he’s been waiting for this for so long and imaging it. he definitely announces before he cums (announces before he does anything really) and buries his face in your neck

⏾ the aftercare king. makes sure you go to the toilet, leaves u to shower in peace, be prepared for cuddles and lots of them, puts on a movie for you pair.

“i’m gonna put it in now, let me know if it hurts.”

asahi:

⏾ since you’d done stuff before (not gone all the way tho) you knew what turned him on. all it took was you bending over and he was solid. only this time things got wayyy more intimate and neither of you were complaining

⏾ he doesn’t really see a purpose for “roles” in the bedroom when he doesn’t know what he is himself, especially not for the first time. just whatever feels natural.

⏾ you find the most comfortable position on this occasion to be you riding him, which he’s overjoyed about. your facing away from him and hand is on your back, steadily pushing you further forward without realising, his other hand is in his hair which is already covered in sweat

⏾ tells you to face him at some point. he wants to see how much pleasure he’s giving you right now, not just hear it.

⏾ when he gets close, his eyes are closed and his head is imbedded in the pillow behind him. you were already back to sucking his dick at this point, but you decided to glance up at him, you were glad you did too because the sight did not disappoint as he finished messily all over your face.

“you really know how to get me going, baby”

gifs aren’t mine

[to-be-frank-i-dont-care]

Hello! I think you seem really cool and I’m a minor too! (Idk, I thought that was nice.) But anyway I’m scared to read Tolkien because… well it’s Tolkien. I read greek lit and stuff which is considered intimidating and at one point it was to me, but I fell love with it and was hoping if you could help me fall in love with Tolkien and overcome my fear of his intimidating books.

Any advice?

Oh hi!! Thanks, and yesss it is nice! I love finding other minors on here :D

Ok, hehehehehehhee *rubs hands together*

Sooooo in all honesty, yes you should be fine reading Tolkien if you enjoy Greek literature! He really draws you in to his storylines and characters, and there’s little funny moments and puns thrown in that help to clear up the more old fashioned writing style. He’s really really descriptive on things, which helps build a good picture of Middle-earth in your head, but he leaves the character image pretty much up to you, which is nice! He does throw in references to his other books every now and then, but you don’t have to read those other books to understand— you can skip over the cameos without being confused plotwise. (Basically he’ll toss in the name of a character from one of his other books, or something that happened, and it’s only for like a sentence).

ALSO, if you want to ease into Tolkien without feeling too “aaaaah” about it, then start with The Hobbit! It’s the…what’s the word aaaaa….precursor? I guess that works lol— to The Lord of the Rings. Also, The Hobbit was written for his kids! So the whole book is whimsical and fairytale like and helps slide you into his world in a more lighthearted manner. BUT, if you’re feeling intimidated about reading The Lord of the Rings, let me tell you— I was super scared of it too, and convinced I wouldn’t like it whatsoever! Well guess what. By like the third chapter, I was completely invested, and was already crafting ideas of the characters and the settings they were in. It pulled me in so much that there was a point in the first book I was on the edge of my seat, nose practically buried in the book in anticipation.

Also, another thing that helps break it up— each individual book of The Lord of the Rings (The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and the Return of the King) are each divided into two parts! So you’re not just reading straight through since it’s broken up. And a fact that I found interesting— all three books in The Lord of the Rings combined are shorter than most individual fantasy novels today. Which is…mind blowing because The Lord of the Rings seems SO BIG but it really isn’t! So if you keep that in mind, it’ll definitely help. (And if you check out the individual books, not the entire set in a single book. That’s what I did— I lugged around a brick of a book at school, and it was pretty intimidating to read lol).

Advice for what NOT to read of his as a Tolkien introduction…The Silmarillion. Hoooo boy. I didn’t read that till years after I read The Lord of the Rings, and I had to reread every sentence at least twice. And refer to the glossary every third word. And look back at previous chapters….it was confusing. It’s definitely WAYYY scarier than The Lord of the Rings. Like, it’s a lot shorter, and seems innocent, but there are so many names and places and stories and aaaaaaah. (The characters whose names begin with “Fin” are enough to form a small army). So yeah, don’t read that, or Unfinished Tales, or pretty much any of his other works until you’ve read LOTR and the Hobbit and are comfortable with those.

There is ONE other book of his you could read for now, though— Tales from the Perilous Realm!! It’s such a cute book! It features little stories and a whole section of poetry, which you may or may not want to skip over depending on whether or not you enjoy poetry. (Oh wait. Your url. Wow. I is smart) The first story is about a little dog who is accidentally turned into a toy dog and goes on a bunch of adventures, even going to the moon and later to the depths of the ocean. (He wrote it for one of his children after the kid lost his favorite toy on the beach). There’s also a story about a farmer fighting a dragon, and a story about a magical star-shaped trinket in a cake that gives the eater the ability to travel into the world of fairies. The last story, about a painter, is kind of weird, and I didn’t fully get it, but it’s apparently a representation of Tolkien himself. And there’s also an essay Tolkien wrote about fairytales, which….eh you probably don’t have to read lol. But anyway, that book is really cute and I would definitely recommend that as well! It’s got beautiful illustrations too :D

But yeah!! The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and Tales from the Perilous Realm are the three you should start off with if you feel comfortable! (With The Hobbit being first). And woooww sorry for the super long answer 😅 But there ya go! If you read and enjoy Greek literature, then I think you’ll be perfectly fine with Tolkien’s works ;)

[vegalocity]

Kiss 9- first kiss for Amnesia Spicynoodles? (Whether as Red Boy and Xiaotian or Red Son and MK, your choice).

Affection meme

9. first kiss

Goddamn i gotta get back on that AU

That's actually a very clever shorthand for the difference between 'the Son of the Monkey King' and 'The Monkie Kid' Anon hope you don't mind me using it!

Also since this is technically the first real THING i'm writing for this Au it got a lil crazy

--

It was.... weird... falling into this rhythm with Red Son.

Even he'd seemed surprised at how quickly he'd agreed to join their team while they were hunting down the weapon that could finally end the Lady Bone Demon. Sure he'd reasoned that he was doing it for the sake of his father, that their family had been taken advantage of by that demon, and this was little more than 'enemy of my enemy' but barely time at all had passed before he may as well have joined simply because he wanted to.

There weren't a lot of bunks on Sandy's Hovership, and at the start of all of this, everyone was so on edge (and in Monkey King's case injured) that it just made more sense to sleep whenever it struck rather than sort out bedroom options and who bunked with whom.

Which had lead to some interesting things so far, such as Monkey King tending to curl up against Tang as he was reading or something and taking a nap right there and how Tang seemed like... wayyy too comfortable with it despite how he'd first reacted to seeing him on New Years.

Pigsy was ALWAYS crabby in the mornings, but he was getting exponentially more frustrated after waking up for something or another he never seemed to be able to relay when he woke (probably some frustrating reoccurring dream that keeps blotting out when he wakes up, MK didn't remember his dreams much either so he could relate)

And about thee days in of Red Son working with them, he'd knocked out during some down time, and while he was sitting near him. The ship rumbled, Red Son hadn't woken, but he slid to the side until he was leaned against MK's shoulder. and... It was comfy. Red Son was warm, and soft.

And before he'd known it he was being startled awake by Xiaojiao making delighted cooing noises and the flash of her camera. And when he jostled Red Son woke up as well. He'd met his gaze for a second and his artist brain noted that his eyes were a rather lovely shade of amber, not even fiery orange or honey brown, but pure, precious stone amber.

and for a moment it had felt... nostalgic... in a way he couldn't place. and the puzzled look on Red Son's face mirrored his confusion at the sudden thought, before the demon slammed up the walls again and pushed MK away, face burning bright red.

But from there it had spiraled.

It was just so... easy? he supposed would be the word. It was almost startling how easy it was to fall into this rhythm with Red Son. Not a few months ago he was a nominal enemy, yet here they were finding themselves sitting next to eachother more often than not, sometimes close enough for shoulders to brush, their unconscious bodies rolling over at once to tangle together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

At one point they were facing a demon that had cast one of those 'greatest fear' spells over the lot of them, and before it had hit he'd felt Red Son slip his hand into his own with a small startled gasp. And before the world went black and he was covered by spiders and the looming specter of his own failures he'd squeezed back.

That had actually happened just hours ago, and MK's hand was still tingly. Everyone was a little shaken up from that one. (Monkey King had holed himself away in one of the few bedrooms there were and he sounded physically pained when MK had tried to check in on him and he'd answered that he'd rather be alone. he was pretty sure Tang was allowed in, and he tried not to take that personally. It was probably a whole 'Mentor doesn't want his student to see him freaked out' thing. If he didn't stop taking everything so damn personally he'd be a sucker for the next fear spell or whatever.) And unlike the others, Red Son didn't have any loved ones on this ship to help reassure him.

So... if their... something or another... that had been developing was gonna mean anything, that probably meant it should fall on him.

Red Son was where he'd expected him to be, half buried in engine guts in Sandy's work area, his hands were shaking and there was a far off look in his eye.

MK had to physically lift him and drag him away, and it was a lot harder without the Mystic Monkie Strength, but he managed.

in fact he'd gotten all the way to the kitchen area and Red Son had stopped struggling in his arms screeching to be let go (yet never trying to flare his fire and forcing MK to drop him) before his stamina gave out and he had to deposit Red Son in one of the chairs.

"Noodle boy i swear this truce will end in an INSTANT if you do not explain yourself-"

"You're freaking out."

"YES I AM! You would be too if your current ally just lifted you up from what you were doing and carried you to the deserted part of the ship because even the Pig is too on edge to be in here!"

"I mean from this afternoon. Red son, you've been pale as a sheet since we got out of there and your hands are STILL shaking." He watched as he hurriedly hid them in his pockets. "You need to talk to someone. And it may as well be me."

"I- I don't need to talk about ANYTHING! Presumptuous Noodle Boy... Bold of you to assume I'd just pour my heart out at some perceived internal detriment which you have no proof even exists!" The bluster and casual insults were considerably less convincing than they were when they were enemies...

...maybe he was just starting to see through them better.

Red Son pulled his hands back onto the table, as a sort of subtle show of how fine he totally was, and clenched his fists to keep them from continuing to shake.

"Red..." The nickname felt... natural. He couldn't quite explain why, but he supposed they'd been Something-or-Another-ing long enough to make it reasonable. Red Son's glare abated and was replaced quickly with a shocked expression. But he didn't shout to not be called something so short, so MK considered that a signal to continue. So he continued with what felt natural and placed a hand over his clenched fist.

The defensive anger was all but gone. And that puzzled, yet slightly awed look he kept sharing with Red Son during moments like these replaced it and those amber eyes darted down to their linked hands, as if he didn't quite know what to do next.

Eventually Red Son came to a decision, and MK let him fiddle around with his grip until their hands were linked properly. And it felt... it was that weird sense of nostalgia again. And as everything else neither of them could quite explain it felt right. familiar. Natural.

"It's not really worth talking about." Red Son responded after the moment passed. yet he didn't pull his hand away. "I know better than to believe what it had showed me."

"Red-"

"I mean, I SHOULD know better, right?" He looked away from MK then, but squeezed his hand a little tighter. "I mean- they're my parents. and they agreed me coming along with you all to take down the Lady Bone Demon was the best course of action. I know they wouldn't disown me because they believed I was becoming more aligned with you all than with the family. That just because we're friends doesn't mean I'm somehow betraying them!" Red Son was working through it in his head, and he didn't seem to really realize that he'd admitted to seeing MK as a friend, so he just squeezed his hand a little tighter and filed that away to celebrate later.

"It's irrational, and it's ridiculous that I actually feared the idea."

"It's not ridiculous, If you think it's irrational then it probably is, but it's not ridiculous. " Red Son looked back at him then and raised a brow. "I mean, who isn't afraid that they're letting their parents down in some way?" He remembered how nervous Xiaojiao was about the idea of disappointing her family, and he was always worried that he'd disappointed his fath-....

What was he thinking about again?.... right, Xiaojiao and her parents.

Red Son took his attention again and the confusion zipped right out of his mind. he gently detangled his hand from MK's and was moving to stand.

"I suppose you're right. And... In that regard I should probably thank you for allowing me the chance to properly process."

"Anytime, Red."

He stood as well, with nowhere else to go, he supposed he'd probably just go out onto the deck and do a little one-man training, heavens knew he needed it.

Red Son put a hand on his shoulder before either of them could pull away and when he turned back to face the demon-

Red Son was looking at him with intent. determination. And it was only then that MK realized that maybe holding someone's hand while they talked about some Real Shit with you, constantly sitting next to each other so as to be closer, falling asleep on each other, and sometimes when you wake up you glance at their mouth wondering how easy it would be to just...

Maybe that wasn't just all friendship overtures.

And maybe they'd had a name for their little something-or-another already.

Neither of them were ever very good at this whole 'self control' thing anyway.

Red Son was just as warm as he'd anticipated. His calloused fingers hooking under his chin as if to keep MK in place. And it was... chaste. Nothing like the fierce passionate devouring of another's mouth that he'd anticipated a demon to go for (that he'd daydreamed about) Almost... child-like. As if Red Son hadn't kissed anyone since before he hit Demon Puberty and didn't know how to do it right. And the action alone made MK feel very much like a child as well. Which was ridiculous he was a grownass man and Red Son was a fully matured demon, and the shortest most chaste little peck made him feel like a squeaky voiced kid.

When they parted he peeked his eyes open just a bit, and it seemed like Red Son had realized the same thing, the two of them shared a soft chuckle.

But then Red Son started to pull away, and that wouldn't do. MK wrapped his arms around the demon's shoulders and properly kissed him this time.

And it didn't feel quite as natural, but it did feel right.

So that was what mattered.

--

Send me stuff

[genshin-hours]

Hello dear! May I please have a Hunter and Survivor match-up please? Also if you'd like i'd be more than happy to match you with a hunter and survivor as well! Anyways, I love your blog and your writing! I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

Zodiac sign: Leo sun, Aries moon, Leo rising

Personality Type: ENTP

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Straight (For now might be bi but i'm going with straight)

I'm 5'4 and I have a very tiny body frame so i'm extremely petite and pretty small. I'm not very curvy and I literally have the body of a cereal box...lol but its fine because I have nice hips and thighs. I have thick brown hair that goes down to my back and it gets tangled pretty easily but its kinda fluffy. I have brown eyes and tiny freckles all over my face and body. I also have a very strong grunge style, like Flannels, band t-shirts, combat boots, leather jackets etc. But i'd also always enjoy a nice oversized sweatshirt or hoodie with a pair of skinny, ripped jeans and some converses or something along those lines.

For my personality.....this is where things get interesting. At first people find me very intimidating due to my resting bitch face and cold exterior but I promise i'm not like that ALL the time. When you get to know me, i'm goofy and about everything that comes out of my mouth is sarcasm or some dry humored joke. I'm also that one friend in a group where they literally will do the stupidest shit ever like for an example one time it was super dark outside and my other friend was there, while I was trying to climb a tree and I failed and fell out of the tree, and landed on my back. I got straight up after that somehow it didn't hurt.....like at all? But yeah i'm super reckless and sometimes people have to save me from myself if you get what I mean. I also have a very strong "I don't give a fuck" attitude and I will not hesitate to stick up for myself or my friends....like i'm the type of person where if someone glares at me, i'll glare right back.

I have bad anxiety and I can be very self destructive. This is where my feisty, stubborn, hardheaded side comes in. If I want something then i'll fight for it even if it hurts me and i'll get into a bad cycle of putting myself down and trying to do better even if I did great the first time but I always push myself too far and other people have to stop me because I usually can't see it when its happening. I also cover my emotions up and I have a lot of trouble talking about whats bothering me or what problems i'm having emotionally so I put up a wall and I act tough, or happy and sometimes i'll be the exact opposite but I try to hide it.Weird things about me: I've grown up in the south all my life so sometimes when I talk a few words they'll come out sounding WAYYY more country and southern then I wanted, I don't have an accent but sometimes my words just come out that way. Sometimes in the middle of the night you can find me just staring at a wall or something because I can't go to sleep.....I have trouble sleeping.....

Things I like: I love swimming (I was on a swim team for about 9 years), I love horror movies, I like rain and the sounds of thunderstorms because its calming to me, I also love the smell of rain, I like cloudy days, cooking, listening to 80's and 90's rock but mainly 90's because 90's is the best, My favorite bands are Bush, Audioslave, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Linkoln Park, Pearl jam but i'm pretty open to anything.

Things I dislike: Spiders.......I will scream if I see a spider.

hello! tysm for requesting, love! and you can of course :) ty for the offer btw, that would be lovely! also I hope you have a wonderful day/night as well <3 hopefully you enjoy all these hcs, dear ♡

I ship you with....

joseph desaulnier

so, I think joseph would really like you :>

joseph is one of the shorter hunters, so you being very small makes him lowkey excited

he loves letting you rest in his lap. he marvels at how small you are and how cute you look!!!

joseph gets the whole resting bitch face thing. he is told quite often that he has a bad case of rbf lmao

he also thinks your hair is really pretty, and if you're alright with it, he will offer to help brush/comb it for you or even style it. he is surprisingly good with hair. his hair isn't just fluffy and silky on its own, you know.

also joseph is pretty good at keeping you from doing like absolutely crazy stuff. he will make sure you don't get hurt, but the second he think you might he's gonna be yelling at you in french to stop or running to try and protect you from falling

and if you do get hurt, he is the first to provide you first aid. the whole time he is blushing and cursing under his breath. he is surprised by how bold and reckless you can be.

he loves your spirit and enthusiasm, but for the love of god, please be more careful

also, joseph loves your dry humor. he laughs at all your jokes. even if you're in matches and he is supposed to be serious

joseph also has a pretty "idgaf" attitude, so you guys will get along well. he is willing to fight for something he believes in too.

joseph isn't the best with emotions either, but this gives you both an opportunity to work together at it.

you both agree to come together and share what you're comfortable with to try and figure things out. tbh he is more likely to provide you with advice rather than consolation.

he thinks your accent is really cute, and teases you for it sometimes. but he actually thinks it's adorable.

also he will help you fall asleep by stroking your hair, reading to you, laying by you, etc. he is very comforting surprisingly

joseph is also probably scared of spiders but he will toughen up to get rid of them if you need him to.

(if the spider is scary enough though, you'll be hearing swearing in french and seeing another hunter coming to deal with it lmao)

I also ship you with luca balsa!

luca and you would be cute together!

he thinks your height is adorable, and he likes how small you are when you stand together

you're not too much shorter than him (only 3 inches or so) but it's really cute to him that he can lift you up and stuff or you can sit in front of him and he can lean on you.

he likes to be alone usually when working, though he wouldn't mind if you were to lay on his bed or sit on his lap while he works, but he needs you to stay safe so you're wearing a heavy coat and safety gear lmao

he thinks your style and rbf are adorable. you're not intimidating to him, so he thinks it's funny

luca also enjoys your humor, and he finds it relatable. he always laughs at your jokes, even if you make them at bad times

luca has similar habits to you though, which makes it easy for him to spot them in you and stop you quickly before things get bad

he himself is pretty reckless at times, but, he will admit, he is a hypocrite and panics when you do something dangerous, but turns around and works with dangerous equipment

you're both not the best with emotions, but he does his best to help you. he might not be the best at consoling you, but he will do what he can to make you feel better in his own way

he might tinker with stuff to improve it for you, or try to give you helpful advice

luca would think horror movies are super neat, but he analyzes them fast, and knows all the twists and turns. he still jumps though

he likes your accent and thinks it's pretty cool! he doesn't hear many southern accents, so he finds yours very neat and soothing to listen to

luca will take the time to help you fall asleep if you can't. he has some trouble falling asleep too, so don't be surprised if he accidentally passes out on top of you once you're asleep.

he isn't a fan of lightning and thunder, but some gentle rain and pretty clouds are lovely in his opinion :)

luca is also an entp, so you two would have plenty of lively debates lmao