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saerins · 2 months

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꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — there’s a lot you don’t understand about what’s going on with sae, but he can say the same about you. question is, once you both find out more about each other, will your growing feelings stay the same?

content: itoshi sae x female reader. fluff/angst. profanity, alcohol, reader is fairly straightforward here, pining, jealousy, misunderstandings. word count: 5.8k

༝༚༝༚ slightly shorter chapter this week ^_^ hehe we’re getting closer to the messier/exciting parts so bear with me heh :) mwah ily guys <3

you’re starting to learn that maybe you can’t get your hopes up with itoshi sae.

a week later, you don’t hear anything from him. you both haven’t spoken since that night he took you out. not that you’re entirely too bothered—it’s a first for you, trying to get to know someone as in-demand as sae. (you don’t count eita because you’ve known him since before the fame.)

it doesn’t help that you don’t really have anyone to talk to about this. you promised sae that you wouldn’t spill, and you’re keeping that promise. somehow, it makes you feel a little warm inside; thinking that there is some sort of intimacy you share with sae that only the two of you know.

besides, even if you could talk to eita about it, you don’t want to.

is it too quick for you to think you might fall for him?

falling for someone isn’t really in your life plans yet, especially after your last and only tumultuous relationship, but maybe itoshi sae is different. he sure seems like it.

the next week rolls around, and you still hear nothing from him. which is fine with you; you’ve resigned yourself to thinking what’s yours will be yours and not to force anything… even if you spend most of your idle time wondering if sae is ever going to post anything on his private account. did he really just create it solely because you asked him to?

you can see that he logs in to it, judging by his icon on that little viewer list in your stories. but that’s the extent to which you see him online. he doesn’t reply, or do anything much. considering his normal account is probably mainly run by his team, you guess you shouldn’t expect too much from him.

still, maybe it’s a little pathetic of you to be wearing his cap so frequently. it’s sort of become a staple piece for you, somehow. to be fair, there’s hardly any dress code in place for you to follow and considering the bulk of your workwear is mostly casual, it fits right into your style. although, after sumi pointed out one day that it’s a luxury brand and that it costs more than you would personally ever spend on a cap (even if you had the means to), you try to wear it less often. (though that seems like a waste considering it was given to you.)

“you know, you gave the boss a really good scoop, enough to last for a few months,” sumi points out during lunch, taking a lick of her vanilla ice cream as the both of you sit out on the roof, escaping the cramped office. “so why do you look so stressed?”

honestly, you didn’t even realise you did. you thought you were being normal, but it has been a while since you had a normal crush on someone, and since itoshi sae is certainly not just a normal somebody, maybe you had been acting a little off, always waiting for a text, a call even, something.

“nothing, i just haven’t been able to get a good sleep lately,” you lie, hoping that sumi won’t pry.

she doesn’t.

“hm, it’s friday today,” she hums, pondering. “maybe you should find a few of your friends, get out, let loose, you know?”

later at your desk, the clock almost striking 5pm, you think maybe you should. because as much as you love your chill friday nights alone (mainly because your mom is barely home on the weekends), you don’t think it’ll do you much good if you keep mulling over the same old thing.

but just as you’re about to go pester eita again, he gets to you first, his timing impeccable today.

there’s an aching disappointment in your chest when you realise sae isn’t going to be there. maybe it’s just the glaring difference between the life of a celebrity versus someone normal like you. his schedule must usually be packed to the brim after all.

whatever, you’ll let him come back to you on his own time. for now, all you want to do for the weekend is to spend it having fun with the guys and settling everything you need to on saturday and spend sunday to yourself.

this possible thing between you and sae, whatever it could be, can wait. you’re not in any rush. at least, that’s what your head tells you.

your heart feels something different.

it’s only the second time you’re actually hanging out with eita’s friends, but you’re not regretting it one bit. even on the day of the event they’d been welcoming to you, and tonight is no exception.

they’re all sat around the wooden table on the balcony, a ton of beer cans and liquor bottles littered across the table. you sit on the long end, on the long chair, right beside eita, sides of your bodies always pressed close together that it makes a glint form in oliver’s eyes.

he’s still curious, not out of concern but just because, about you and eita and sae and how everything is going to tie together. it’s not everyday he sees eita being okay with a girl that close to him and not complain that she’s a bother. it’s also not everyday that sae creates a private account. oliver got bored and saw one day that you were the first person he followed.

you must really be something.

“where even is sae today?” you hear sendou ask, a hiccup following suit. “i finally come over and he’s not even here.”

he’s sitting on your other side, his profile strangely reminding you of the very guy he’s asking about. maybe it’s the way his hair is a lighter shade of pink, maybe even his sharp jawline. his eyes are different though, more expressive, and universally soft somehow.

you remember how sae’s can look soft, his teal eyes turning gentle whenever you try to approach him. but it wasn’t that way when you first met him, that’s a given.

“i don’t know, said he was too tired,” oliver sighs, stretching in his seat.

“wasn’t he just with bianca yesterday?” yukimiya asks, oblivious to oliver’s glee.

it kind of stings, but you stay quiet, the alcohol slowly seeping into your system. you can feel eita leaning against you a little bit more, and his presence has always been comforting, so you let him.

sendou hums, index finger tapping against his near-empty beer can. “is that still going on? how long has their relationship status been a mystery already?”

karasu snorts, nudging sendou on the elbow. “salty just ‘cause you tried to ask her out and she rejected you?”

as you sit quietly and observe, it seems that sendou was once at an event with her too—apparently, he had asked her for her number and she didn’t even want to give it to him. and then a month later she “met sae and was all over him”, according to karasu.

with the exception of eita, who sits quietly beside you, they start a debate on whether or not sae’s finally starting to see bianca in a different light. or, as sendou points out, “maybe they’ve been a thing all along and just hid it really well from everyone.” it’s not exactly something you want to listen to, even if you are the most curious you’ve ever been about a guy, so you block it out from your ears.

but oliver leans forward, resting his chin on the liquor bottle in front of him, staring straight at you. you’ve never really noticed it but his eyes are really beautiful, the different shades of green and purple making him seem ethereal just like that.

“you’re a girl, y/n, what do you think?” he asks you, a lazy drawl in his tone.

mirroring his actions, you bat your eyelashes at him, looking innocent as ever when you answer him. “i think you guys should stop talking about that her behind her back like that,” you say, earning a raise of oliver’s brows in return. he’s surprised, to say the least, but not in a bad way.

it’s not even that you don’t want to hear about her. you’re wantonly curious, especially since you’re beginning to realise your small hint of emotions towards sae, but something tells you that these guys wouldn’t be too kind with their words if you egg them on.

karasu gives you a nod of approval that you miss before he leans back in the chair, whispering to yukimiya, “at least we all know shidou won’t totally hate y/n.” but it’s too soft for you to hear, and you probably won’t even be able to make sense of it even if you did, not with the gradually increasing level of alcohol in your system.

between intentionally drinking to not be a pathetic mess who keeps thinking about her potential love life and having to drink because you’re usually good at drinking games but not when oliver is around with the way he keeps beating you at everything, you happen not to notice a lot of things.

at one point, oliver has replaced sendou next to you, whispering snarky comments in your ear in between games. he’s not the flirting kind, at least not to you, and he doesn’t push your boundaries physically either—he’s more akin to a friend you’d love to gossip with. that’s why you don’t even think much when he tilts his camera towards you, taking a selfie with both you and eita in it.

just a normal picture of friends hanging out, oliver leaning against your legs, propped up on the chair, your own head leaning into the crook of eita’s neck, all of you evidently tipsy from the dazed look in your eyes.

what neither of you notice is oliver’s smirk as he posts the picture onto his private, betting on his target audience of one to see it.

and now, he’ll just have to wait.

one hour later, the doorbell rings and yukimiya’s eyes glance over to eita, comfortable with an arm around you, and he takes it as his cue to open the door. eita’s probably too reluctant to move and he’ll let whoever it is at the door keep at it for hours before he’ll answer the poor guy.

he’s expecting some random food delivery, maybe from karasu because he’s been whining about wanting some chicken with his beer, or maybe even shidou showing up at the last minute from his other party. but this? the person he’s staring at in the eyes right now, is the last person he expected to see tonight.

“wait, i thought you weren’t coming?” yukimiya asks, but oliver’s already shouting from the balcony.

“hey, sae, what the fuck are you doing here?” he asks from the balcony, taking a swig of his beer.

beside him, you hear sae’s name and your head immediately whips around to look at the door. there he is, looking tired as ever but he’s there, in the flesh, dressed in all black, jacket and sweats, teal eyes finding you from all the way across the house.

sae wordlessly walks past yukimiya, the latter following behind him, still shocked that he’s even present. sure looks like sae always means it when he says he wouldn’t come to gatherings like these.

when he gets to the balcony, earning a cock of oliver’s brow, sae tilts his head, “i was invited, wasn’t i? what’s so surprising about that?”

oliver snickers at sae’s blatant avoidance of the question. deciding he wouldn’t get anything out of him anyway, he shrugs and accepts it. besides, he can already see that sae’s too busy trying to calculate if there’s enough space for him to sit beside you, with the way his eyes are scanning your surroundings. maybe it doesn’t help how eita’s so clingy with you, his arm still around you even when you’ve already straightened up.

both sae and eita are just staring blankly at each other, and everyone is aware of it except for you, because your head’s a little dizzy and you’re still thinking whether sae popping up here is a figment of your imagination.

you’re not that drunk, are you?

you get your answer when a shadow looms over your body, the familiar scent of his cologne wafting into your nose. he smells the same he did that night you kissed him.

“what, this seat taken?” sae asks, and you dumbly look down at the small edge of space beside you.

no, it’s not, but you’re probably going to have to squeeze between him and eita if he sits there, no more legroom. you shift anyway, eita making space (albeit reluctantly), the way sae ends up being so close to you enough to send your mind into overdrive. you’re still wondering why he showed up.

you, and everyone else. not oliver though. he knows why. and it’s not like he wants to intentionally make you cough out your feelings but it looks like the other guys who are oblivious to your feelings are steering in that direction.

“no bianca today?” karasu asks, a mocking tone in his voice.

sae doesn’t show an ounce of emotion, though. “wasn’t with her.”

“why not? scared we’re gonna make you two make out again like last time?” yukimiya asks, finally relaxing back in his seat. he says it jokingly, although you know the sentence at hand probably isn’t a joke.

“wait wait wait, you two made out?” sendou asks, incredulous, mirroring your exact thoughts.

a jealousy creeps up your spine, engulfing your alcohol-riddled distractions. some part of you wants to know what it’d be like to be kissed by him. you purse your lips into a firm line, wondering if you were being an accidental homewrecker by kissing him that night.

“it was just a game,” sae responds, making no moves to drink the beer handed to him.

eita pulls his arms away, moving in favour of getting you a drink. it’s not that he even knows anything that’s going on between you and sae, but he can tell by how you’re stiffening up that you’re probably a little affected. he slides a shot over to you, and you down it with ease.

ignoring the way the other guys keep harping on the topic, sae turns his attention to you, flicking the tip of the cap he gave you, and you shift your gaze to look up at him, the small smirk he gives you when you do making your heart flutter again.

why is it so easy for him to do that to you?

“haven’t sold my cap yet?”

you thank the heavens you’re not too tipsy to be normal. “i’m holding out for higher bids, actually,” you quip, grinning. “you can offer one too if you want it back.”

sae hums, head tilted again as he ponders while staring at you. slowly, he leans down to your ear, whispering so only you can hear him, “how much do i have to bid for you to keep it?”

maybe it’s the liquor, but you feel your cheeks heat up. it can’t be his close proximity. it can’t be the way he’s so close that you can see the beating pulse on his neck. it can’t be the way you think you look more intimate here than you should. definitely can’t be the way all the guys have noticed and are giving each other looks.

why does he even want you to keep it? is this some sort of abstract way that he’s using to tell you that you’re not an accidental homewrecker?

you make a mental reminder to yourself to never get drunk in front of sae. you don’t want to end up blurting out some less-than-decent thoughts of yours.

“what’s wrong? too tipsy now to talk back?” sae asks, and you can only pout at him, not in your usual condition to think of smart comebacks. it makes the corner of his lips tug upwards just a little bit more than usual, his hand coming up to teasingly push the cap down further—in that seemingly affectionate way he does.

and maybe it isn’t such a good idea to agree to continue to play games, not when you got roped into never have i ever and karasu, to the delight of oliver, said he has never fucked anyone at this table. seeing that only you and eita put a finger down, everyone can tell there’s probably a complicated history between you and eita. not that you owe them any explanation, though you kind of do feel the urge to tell sae that it was in the past.

you steal a glance at him beside you, the mild look of surprise befallen on his handsome face. you wonder if he thinks badly of you now. you wonder if he’ll think badly of you when he sees what your life is really like. will he think you’re just going to be a stain on his fancy life that it’ll be better off not knowing you?

or maybe… maybe he has a complicated past too. with bianca.

funnily enough, eita loses after yukimiya says he’s never had sex with more than five girls. the disappointing part is you didn’t really get to know anything interesting about sae.

“hey, you feeling okay? you can stop playing if you wanna,” sae tells you later on, after god knows how many minutes have passed and you’re already onto the next game. you don’t even know why you agreed to play two truths one dare in the first place when you know it’ll just be a shitshow for you.

over the course of x minutes, you’d managed to learn many things, some of which being that karasu and eita had shared a girl in bed, that yukimiya dared to do a body shot on oliver, that sae would consider bianca an important person to him, and that you really can’t make up your mind to go big or go home because oliver had just dared you to spend seven minutes in heaven with anyone of your choosing.

of course, you can safely choose eita and trust him not to do anything if you told him to. but on the flip side, you can choose who you really want. even if you’re not so sure he’d want to anymore.

“you can always choose me,” oliver jokes, lifting the mood. although the smirk on his face makes you question it. “i’ll definitely show you a good time.”

while you’re having an internal dilemma, karasu and sendou are in the background teasing oliver for being fake, saying that he shouldn’t be offering that if he’s already interested in miss manager.

but you snap out of it when the irritated sigh you hear out of sae somehow feels like the world is sending you a sign. in some way. you’re not sure if you’re reaching—is he bothered by oliver’s comments? and why does oliver look so smug all of a sudden?

you’re beginning to regret not being sober, you can’t figure this shit out. but what you do figure out is what you want to do. why think so much about tomorrow when the present is right here?

so you don’t pay it any more thoughts, getting up and dragging sae with you by the shirt, ignoring all the commotion left behind by the guys, save for eita who only stares blankly at you as you drag sae into his own room and lock the door.

“oh shit, sorry dude, didn’t mean to—”

“for the last time, just friends,” otoya snaps, cutting karasu off, although not even sendou believes him. for someone who doesn’t even care to treat people nicely, sendou can at least see that eita treats you a fair bit better than anyone else.

in the room, sae can only watch blankly as you stumble over your feet before finally settling on the edge of otoya’s bed. the envious, green side of him can’t help but wonder how many times you’d been here, in his room, with him. though it’s kind of amusing how you chose to bring sae in here now.

from what sae can tell, you’re probably a little more tipsy than you should be in these types of situation, and a part of him is relieved that you’re not here with anyone else. if you were here with otoya, would you be fooling around by now?

“so, thought you were too tired to show up—what happened?” you ask from where you are on the bed, body swaying slightly, eyes threatening to close.

the moment he takes a seat next to you, you lean close, your head coming to rest on his shoulder, and sae has no doubt that you’d already drank a lot before he came. proximity this close, he can smell the shampoo in your hair, can feel how soft it is.

“i couldn’t sleep, got bored, that’s all.”

your shoulders vibrate slightly as you giggle, pulling away, a suspicious glint in your eyes. “damn, and here i thought you came for me.”

even when you’re intoxicated you still have such a smart mouth. sae shrugs, his gaze turning ever so soft, like every time before when he looks at you. there’s something about you that he can’t quite place, something that makes him act so differently than he usually does, and for once he doesn’t hate it. “did you want me to?”

not taking the bait, you keep up your casual demeanour, even if your eyelids feel heavy and you’re about five seconds away from just passing right out on the bed.

“you know, it’s fine to say you missed me and wanted to see me,” you tell him, grin wide as ever, almost infectious. you’re only surviving on liquid courage right now, the way you unashamedly try to flirt. though, if sae isn’t moving away, does that mean he doesn’t mind?

he looks off to the side, pondering for a while before turning back to you with a straight face, “i missed you, wanted to see you.”

for a moment, you feel like your heart might stop.

“is that what you wanna hear?”

almost instinctively, you grab the stray pillow lying on the bed and fling it at sae, earning an amused laugh from him but you barely realise it, too caught up in the frustration that his words were just strung together to entertain you as opposed to his actual feelings.

crossing your arms, you look away, the exhaustion of the day coupled with the dread of tomorrow nipping away at your consciousness. “don’t patronise me, itoshi sae,” you huff, and you miss the way he looks at you with a smile on his face.

will you remember any of this tomorrow? you’re not drunk, but you’re not exactly thinking straight either.

“were you… very busy this past week?”

your question is voiced so softly, almost like you’re afraid to ask, and sae realises maybe he should’ve at least told you he wouldn’t be able to make it as early as he thought he would.

“yeah, i was.”

technically, he isn’t lying. he was back in japan last saturday, but maybe he had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to do anything else.

“with bianca?”

it’s even softer this time, and for some reason, sae’s almost kind of relieved you’re asking. he just doesn’t know what it is.

“no, not really,” he tells you. it’s complicated, and you don’t even have context; he wouldn’t even know where to begin talking to you about it.

you put your legs up on the bed, hiding your face between your knees, and sae’s left wondering whether alcohol really makes that much of a difference. you seem bold, shy and teasing all at once. his hat is still on your head, your thoughts coming out into the open.

“are you… involved with her?” your voice is muffled, but he hears you loud and clear.

a small smile dawns onto his face, safe from your view. he doesn’t really know the implications of you asking the question, but he likes how you don’t beat around the bush. it’s nice not having to constantly guess what you really mean.

and maybe it’s you rubbing off on him, but he doesn’t answer it straight.

“curious, y/n?”

when you lift your head up to look at him, you see the widest smile he’s ever given you, objectively much smaller and way more subtle than everyone else, but it’s a smile all the same and it makes your heart beat faster in your chest.

“yes,” you answer honestly, because you’re not sure when exactly you’re going to pass out but you have a feeling it’ll be soon and eita’s bed is just so soft.

sae is only mildly stunned by how straightforward you are, so he decides to do you a favour. he doesn’t usually like divulging things like this; topics that bring gossip and are undoubtedly going to come back to him if it gets out. what’s more, you work for a sports magazine so you can totally use this against him, but it isn’t even that you’re intoxicated right now, but more so that he feels he can trust you with it.

slowly, he reaches his hand over, and for once he tips the cap upwards a little so he can see your eyes when he tells you, “stupid, i’m not involved with anyone.” is that clear enough for you? he’s not sure why but he hopes it is.

what does he even want with you?

the moment you hear it, you break out into a wide smile, genuine and actually infectious this time because sae feels the corners of his lips threatening to pull upwards even more. what the heck is this feeling?

“really? i’m so relieved,” you exhale, voice a little airy, looking a little too pretty that sae immediately pulls the cap back downwards. “so,” you move on, adjusting it back in position, daring to move closer to him, face so close to his own that he has nowhere else to look except straight into your eyes. “we have four minutes left. will you grant me whatever i want, itoshi sae?”

you have a habit of calling him by his full name. he makes a mental reminder to get you to change that. not tonight though, he doesn’t want you to forget.

it’s weird how he feels around you; why does he feel so overwhelmed yet want more both at the same time? he swallows the lump in his throat, keeping his composure, “depends, you’re pretty demanding, tell me first and i’ll consider.”

“itoshi sae, i’m not!” you refute, punching him playfully on the arm and he has to hold your arm to stop you from falling off the bed. “i don’t know. the guys outside are probably expecting us to fuck or something.”

there you go, unfiltered and he kind of likes it. his fingers are still around your wrist.

but the answer is crystal clear to him.

“no.”

“huh?” it takes you a while to process. given that the only thoughts in your head as of right now are only: what does sae think of you and eita? and bianca is important to him. “what if it was just a kiss?”

he hums, then shakes his head. “nope.”

“wait, am i not pretty enough for you or something?”

you’re whining and sae finds it cute of all things. you have a tendency to misunderstand, so maybe he needs to adjust how he talks to you. he’ll see. but before he can even say anything else, your head falls into his chest, your regular breathing the only sound that fills the room after. he’s perplexed and amused all at once; how did you manage to fall asleep so quickly?

contrary to your thoughts, sae has always thought you were pretty, ever since the first night he met you. even in your private account where you post yourself in hoodies too big for your body and no makeup, clad in sweats—still pretty.

sae sighs, his fingers stroking your hair now that you’re asleep, and whispering in your ear only when you’re not able to hear him.

“if i do that, i think i’ll end up wanting more.” and you’re drunk and that’s not what he really wants.

but he does give you what you ask for, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

that’ll have to do for now.

“so, nothing happened?” sendou asks, bored, as sae carries you on his back as he comes out of the room.

you’re passed out and drooling on his shoulder and he doesn’t really care about that.

“it’s sae, c’mon, did you expect something?” karasu laughs, all of them coming in from the balcony because in the seven minutes both of you had spent in the room, it managed to start raining. “maybe if it was bianca, y’know, then maybe.”

sae ignores all their passing comments, choosing to walk over to otoya, “hey, she passed out, i’m just gonna take her home.”

as much as sae isn’t particularly fond of otoya, he’s probably your closest friend here and he doesn’t want him to think he’s just going to take advantage of you.

otoya’s green eyes flicker to the clock on the wall before he shakes his head, speaking softly so the others won’t hear. “nah, just put her in the guest bedroom. i’ll send her back in the morning. you can head back first.”

there’s an irritation that builds up inside him, but sae maintains his emotionless expression, remembering that otoya knows you much more than he does. “i could just—”

“she doesn’t want to go home tonight,” otoya cuts in, a warning glare in his eyes. “trust me.”

suddenly, sae remembers the last time he met you, your swollen cheek and the way your eyes were glazed over. and he wants to ask otoya what it’s all about but this is about you, and he really shouldn’t ask someone else.

“fine,” sae concedes. if whatever’s at home makes you miserable, he won’t bring you there. “i’ll put her in there before i go.”

there’s a lot more otoya would like to ask sae, because oliver’s not the only one curious at sae’s seemingly odd behaviour. he wants to know what exactly he thinks about you, but everyone’s still around and it’s not a good time, so he sucks it up and lets it go for tonight.

as sae puts you down on the bed and pulls the blanket over you, he gets a brief flashback of the night he set bianca down in her hotel room. you’re both so similar, and yet not at all.

and when he’s about to turn and go, your fingers reach out to tug at the hem of his jacket sleeve, almost effectively making sae’s heart leap out of his chest. your eyes are still shut, so there’s no chance you’re actually conscious right now. still, your mouth opens.

“stay with me?”

sae stills. do you know it’s him? or do you think he’s otoya? either way, you and bianca really are similar, even when you’re not completely awake. so why… why are his reactions so different?

it’s not like he has anything on tomorrow, so it’s really no imposition.

before he knows it, he’s sitting on the floor, right next to where you sleep on the bed, your fingers enveloped in his palm, his head propped on the mattress, his own exhaustion catching up to him.

it’s been a messy week; trying to gather his thoughts about you every single time he’s free, having to talk to bianca and thinking about that, and then coming back just to see oliver and otoya so close to you that it bothers him a little. finding out about you and otoya takes the cake, though.

how special is otoya to you?

the question lingers unanswered as he drifts to sleep, both of you subconsciously finding comfort in the other’s innocent warmth.

the next morning when you wake up, you’re half shocked half happy to find sae where he is, sleeping there peacefully, the previous night’s exhaustion dissipating from his face.

did he take care of you last night? you can only hope you didn’t puke in front of him. that would be embarrassing.

you’d like to stay, wait for him to wake up and talk to him and make sure you didn’t say or do anything too out of line because your memory’s a little foggy, bits and pieces that you can’t quite piece together or even tell if they’re real or dreams.

but you can’t.

you remember what day it is today and reluctantly get out of bed. though, feeling a little cheeky, you quietly grab a small black marker out of the drawer, suppressing a grin as you scribble on sae’s palms, hoping he won’t wake up from this.

a couple hours later, by the time sae gets up, the bed is cold and still undone. it’s already noon, and somehow the first thing he thinks of when he wakes up is you—are you already home? did otoya send you?

but the question that pops up in the forefront of his mind when he sees otoya lazing around on his couch later on is none of that.

and to be fair, otoya has the very same question in his head.

“do you like her or something? y/n.”

otoya is the one to ask, eyes still glued onto his phone screen, typing something out. sae can’t help but wonder if he’s talking to you.

“what’s it to you?” sae asks. he can hear the snores of the other guys coming from otoya’s room.

otoya shrugs. “just curious. she’s my best friend after all.”

there’s a certain possessiveness in the way he says it that rubs sae the wrong way. still, sae supposes that if otoya’s your best friend, he shouldn’t be too impulsive with his words.

“maybe i like her,” sae says, the tension in the air getting thicker.

“in what way?” otoya still hasn’t looked up from his phone.

“same way you do.”

“i don’t know what you mean.”

otoya scoffs, both of them acting coy with one another. “bianca and y/n, huh? busy guy,” otoya sighs, tossing his phone aside and getting up, walking towards sae, hands in his pocket. both of them are staring the other down, feeling the situation out. “i think i suit y/n better, you can have bianca.”

now it’s sae’s turn to scoff, sharp eyes piercing through otoya’s own. “why don’t we let y/n decide for herself, huh?” he quips, before grabbing his car keys out of his pocket and leaving through the front door.

as he settles down in his car and turns the engine on, it’s only then that he realises the black marks on his palm.

thank you ᡣ𐭩

somehow, just one look at it is enough to ease the tension on his shoulders.

you really can do wonders.

extras !

otoya’s hostility towards sae was intentional.

sae didn’t try to wash your writing off—he let it fade away naturally.

if yn was sober, she would’ve not been as straightforward as he was in the room with sae. but she definitely would’ve flustered sae a lot more with her playful personality.

the whole time, oliver was live recounting the events of the night to miss manager, all of which are left on read.

if bianca had been there, sae would have been a lot more cautious about his actions and probably wouldn’t have acted too close to y/n.

random fact #1: otoya plays bass, used to perform in a band back in university. part of how he got so many girls interested in him but he was always with y/n which made a lot of them unhappy.

random fact #2: sae has never really been jealous before so now that he’s feeling it, he’s a lot more sensitive to it than normal people.

taglist! @yuzurins @saeskiss @raphsimp @lust4rin @mxplesyrvp @chieeeeeee @yumekolovesyukimiya @kunirayuna39 @auranny @sereniteav @gskill @saesgrl @riseena @rikijbol @sagejin @shironagi @veecynii

#bllk x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #bllk x y/n #sae x y/n #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #sae x you #blue lock x you #itoshi sae #itoshi sae imagines #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #itoshi sae fluff #૪ aeri’s fics !

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theblackestswan · 6 months

Text

Silent Desires | #2

Synopsis — There was a time when you pondered how you'd ever let it be known how much you desired Jungkook. But now? He's back. And he's not being silent with his desires anymore.

• Jungkook × F!Reader

• Brothers best friend, childhood friends to somewhat strangers to lovers, smut, fluff, and a bit of angst

• explicit language

• word count: 1k+

previous chapter

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The weekend had gone by fast. It was Friday when your car took a shit, and it was now Sunday. Jungkook had spent most of yesterday morning looking over your car, along with your dad and they both confirmed you needed a new transmission. You couldn't do much about anything on the weekend so you spent it mostly in your room, wishing your sorrows away.

But now you have an even bigger problem, you have to face. What the hell are you gonna do as far as work? Your car is more than likely not getting fixed anytime soon.

Transmissions aren't cheap, and even then, depending on the cost, it might just make more sense to get yourself a new car, with how old yours is. Neither of which you can afford right at the current moment, but if you save up more money this next month, you could at least start to think about it.

It was all too much. You didn't want to handle this, but you had to.

Pulling yourself out of bed, and decided it would be good to actually eat a full meal, you bring yourself to the kitchen, where everyone sits. Including him.

"Y/N! Good morning my sweet girl! Just in time for breakfast... how'd you sleep?" You gave your mom a side hug as she kissed your forehead.

"Eh, it was fine." You really weren't in the mood to converse. You sat yourself down across from Jungkook. Unfortunately (maybe not so) that was the only seat available at the table.

"Morning Y/N." Jimin said as he sipped his coffee.

"Good morning Chim," you looked at him and smiled. You looked at Jungkook and dropped the smile. "Morning to you too."

You probably should be treating him better. He did help you with your car, as well as spent his morning yesterday looking at it. And he hasn't asked for a single form of payment. And honestly, weren't you glad to see him again?

"Morning to you too, sweet cheeks." He flashed you a 'two can play this game' sort of smile.

You rolled your eyes and just in time, mom saved the day by placing a large plate of pancakes down. "Eat up! I made lots!"

Just as you went to reach for a plate to grab some food, he did the same. Your fingers touched and you were sure this was what it felt like to be electrocuted. It felt good? To feel his touch? No. Y/N, no. You're supposed to be upset at him.

You backed your hand away so quick, you would think it was a snake trying to bite you. "Sorry." You mumbled.

He just chuckled, grabbing a plate he asked, "How many pancakes do you want?" Huh? This man is not about to serve you food. In your own home, nonetheless.

"I can get my own." You stood your ground.

He chuckled again, but this time a little more dark. "I said, how many do you want?" His eyes were piercing you.

"And I said, I can get my own." You gave him the same smile he gave you this morning when he greeted you.

His eyes still staring into your soul, he spoke, "Y/N, you don't listen very well," he turned to Jimin, thank God. You couldn't take his eyes looking at you like that. "Chim, how many does she usually eat?"

Jimin looked at you and you flashed your eyes so fast to him to give him that look.

"She eats two, usually." This bitch ain't loyal.

Jungkook turned back to you and smiled. His way of saying 'Haha bitch, so you thought'. He put three pancakes on the plate and sat it down in front of you.

"I only eat two..." you mumbled.

"And I've noticed you haven't ate much this lately. So eat up." Wait, he actually noticed you this weekend? Yes, anyone in this house could know you mostly stayed in your room, but he noticed you were eating less? Which is true. When you're anxious you eat less. No one usually notices though.

How were you supposed to be mad at that? A silent 'thank you' left your mouth with a small smile.

The rest of breakfast went on like it normally does. Except for one more voice added to the conversation.

"So uh, I need to figure out that to do about getting to work. For the next little bit anyways." You really didn't want to bring this up, but you had to. Tomorrow was Monday, you had no other choice.

"Hun, we can get you a rental car. It's the least we can do." Your dad said. He truly was such a great dad.

"Dad, that's expensive. I don't want you wasting your money." You sighed. It was true. Although your parents were definitely well off, and could honestly just buy you a new car, you valued spending your own money. As much as you know your parents would help you out in a heartbeat, you were twenty three. You needed to do this on your own.

Before your dad could even counter back an argument, Jungkook spoke up.

"I can take you to work."

Oh no, I think the fuck not.

"Kook, I work 40 minutes from here. Not happening." Suddenly the argument with your dad, seemed like a better one to have.

"Y/N, I work around that area anyways, I can drop you off, and pick you up. It's not a big deal. Seriously." This big doe eyes were hard to resist. In every way.

"Look, you guys, I don't want to be a burden. Now please, can we talk about this seriously?" You were on the verge of tears at this point.

"You are not a burden Y/N, I promise you, it would do no harm for me to take you to work. Now c'mon." He looked at your even sterner.

"Kookie's right, sis. He does work near you. And your hours work perfectly. Just let him help." It was hard enough taking Jungkook's eyes piercing you, but your brothers too? You had a soft spot for Chim. He knew it, and he used it to his advantage for a lot of things.

Rubbing your face and wishing it would melt away, you sighed. "Fine! But only for this week. I just... need time to figure things out." You didn't even want to look him in the eyes.

"For as long as you need, I'm here."

Sure you are Jungkook. Sure you are.

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next chapter

A note from our sponsor: our girl’s heart and brain are having a game of tug a war 🙄 but Kookie is anything if not persistent! You can view this story on Wattpad if that’s more you jam. I may or may not be posting chapter 3 over on there tonight 👉🏽👈🏽

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syuga-s · 26 days

Text

who do you blame?

w.c. 11.9k pairing. Yoongi x fem!reader, Taehyung x fem!reader genre. hello again ANGST, slight smut, romance a/n. NSFW MDNI !!! curse words, alcohol, sexual content (just fingering this time),, i may or may not have a second part to this fic 😼 ENJOY pookies <3

Don’t know if I can call it insomnia if I literally sleep at this hour all the time.

I want to dye my hair black again.

But this restlessness feels different.

Maybe that third cup of coffee’s doing its thing.

I was so close to having a panic attack; I did cry, though. And I still want to for a variety of reasons.

I’ve been thinking about a lot of things this week. I really want to see Yoongi like, right now. That’s how I know I’m not doing well.

Lately, I’ve been pondering the idea of resentment and how it means that envy is the emotion you’re feeling. At first, I dismissed it because how do you go from one emotion to a completely different one? But hell maybe they’re right.

I may envy people and their ability to forget how someone else made them feel. Or how they’re able to just overlook someone’s actions. Because I can’t do that. I take everything to heart.

How can you not when those actions were directed at you? Even though I’m used to excusing them and saying, “maybe they’re going through something big, and I just got the short end of the stick,” “maybe they didn’t actually mean it,” or the great, “maybe you’re not the only one that they treated like that, don’t feel so special.”

Alright, but why does it have to happen? Is it that tough to be considerate of someone’s feelings?

Good thing I haven’t texted Yoongi. I’m pretty sure I’m having a weak moment.

Do I want to keep up with that mess? Because that’s what it is.

I just can’t stop thinking about him. I think I miss him. But I refuse to be the one that reaches out for him this time. I’m still pondering if I genuinely miss him or if I’m just fucking lonely again.

Pretty sure it’s the second one.

At the same time, I wish he would grow up more and be ready for something serious.

“Sooooo… I dyed my hair again last night,” you confessed to Gemma on the phone. She was on her way to your house to pick you up because tonight you two were attending a concert.

Your best friend sighed, and you could practically imagine them rolling their eyes. “What color is it this time?” Gemma sounded exasperated, but she wasn’t; it didn’t even surprise her anymore. All her concerns were how you managed to not fry your hair whenever you wanted another makeover.

“I guess it looks kind of black?” You muttered and pressed your lips while you waited for your friend to say something.

“UGH, I can’t wait to see you!,” “you better be ready too because I’m hungry, and you know our pho place closes early!”

“I know, I know. Surprisingly, I AM ready; I’m just looking for my keys.”

This was your and Gemma’s ritual almost every Friday or Saturday night, depending on your plans. Tonight, it was Friday, and you had your usual king size pho, talking about work, your hair on this occasion, and most importantly, the band you were going to watch in a few hours.

You forgot to mention how you’ve been feeling about Yoongi. You thought that conversation could be saved for another time.

As soon as you arrived at the venue, the band came out.

It was one of these L.A. indie bands that both of you discovered this same year. Whenever Gemma was over at your place, you always ended up watching their music videos, fawning over the vocalist. So, when you found out they were doing a concert soon, you knew you had to be there.

It lasted around an hour, which was a little underwhelming compared to the other concerts you’ve attended. Still, all was forgotten because that damn vocalist was as dreamy as you imagined.

When the concert ended, Gemma and you found yourselves a table to keep talking over drinks. You didn’t count on Sam, one of your other friends, calling and telling you she was coming over.

You didn’t usually mixed your plans, but it felt kind of inevitable tonight.

You also thought the place felt kind of dead and guessed it wouldn’t hurt to have more people with you.

Sam arrived with her brother’s girlfriend. Before anything else could be said, they both said, “This place is dead.”

“What were you doing in here?”

You laughed at the confused expression your friend had on her face. She knew you were at a concert, but you then explained you were just sitting and drinking, nothing special.

“We should go somewhere else! What do you say about going downtown?” The brother’s girlfriend addressed you.

You pursed your lips and turned to look at Gemma to ask her what she wanted to do. “I’m staying over with you, so I’m giving you the privilege of deciding.” You smiled at your friend and thought about it. You wanted to keep drinking; it was barely 11 p.m.

You turned to Sam to tell her it was okay, but before you opened your mouth, she tried to convince you, “Come on, let’s just go for a while; Hoseok’s over there with some friends!”

Hoseok is Sam’s brother.

Hoseok is Yoongi’s best friend.

It’s pretty evident that wherever Hoseok was, Yoongi was there too.

Fuck, did I manifest this?

“Let’s go then.”

What a miracle, what a coincidence.

A kiss on the cheek. All kind. Warm greetings—the kind that makes you want to kill whoever invented manners. You see each other from time to time, often at random places and gatherings like tonight.

You haven’t seen Yoongi in over ten months.

You haven’t seen him since that last date you had. If you can call it that.

Last year, life was kicking your ass, and Yoongi was everything you had. You truly needed someone, and he stayed with you throughout the messiest months of your life. He was your everything.

You were perfectly aware he was never going to be serious about you. He’s been in your life for eight years, and both of you have left the other countless times before. You two were just a bad joke. You never understood why he always insisted on coming back to your life just for him to treat you like always. Never something special. Never been the exception, always the rule.

But for those seven months, he acted like the person you always wanted him to be. You knew you were both a joke, but you always liked what “us” meant with him.

Last Christmas was the first time you spent a holiday together. It felt so important to you back then as if life was finally going your way.

You never expected what he had to say to you right on that day.

“First of all, Merry Christmas, honey”. He smiled as he looked at you. “You know I’ll always wish for you and your family to be healthy. I know this is important to you, but I’m sure you can rest a bit about that matter from now on.”

“I’m really happy you’re spending these days with me. You know I’m not fond of the holidays, but I want you to know this feels important to me.”

“I genuinely, truly, really want to keep you with me and for us to go out as much as we can, if you want to, of course. Because to be honest, if it were up to me, we would be doing a bunch of stuff together all the time, but it’s not just a matter of me wanting, so I hope you’d like that too.”

With his words, you went through all the emotions known to mankind. It’s been the first time you’ve heard something like that coming from him, and you felt strange. Thinking how you may have wanted that for years, now when it’s actually happening, you feel so disconnected from yourself, you start to think, “What can he possibly like in me? I’ve only shown him chaos these past months.”

But as soon as that thought crossed your mind, your heart told you, “Yet, he’s still here.”

He made you feel safe, so you committed to being the best version of yourself once again. After all you’ve been through, he’s never stopped being so good and patient with you.

He’s always going to have a piece of your heart.

Then came the inevitable change of heart one of you had every time.

This time, it happened to him. Of course.

You were supposed to go out one night, but you ended up going home in the middle of the “date.”

It’s like you weren’t talking to Yoongi anymore. He was acting cold, apathetic, indifferent, you name it.

You felt awful on your way home. You didn’t even want to think about the reason for his attitude towards you.

You wanted to feel hopeful, happy, and even in love, but it didn’t feel like that anymore. You wanted to trust in what Yoongi had told you just a few weeks ago. Maybe it was just something you wanted to hear, but you didn’t catch on to the intentions behind his words.

I actually fell for it this time.

There have been multiple times when you told yourself there was no future for you two. Why do you keep staying? It just makes you feel like shit in the end.

I just keep building unrealistic expectations, as if there was actually someone who could save me from my own problems1.

This time, you were hoping he was tired of you and would finally choose not to be with you anymore.

Farewell comes. Once again, you bury memories deep in the deepest ocean. Then it comes back and floats up.

There were eight people sitting close together at a little round table, and to your luck, you ended up facing Yoongi.

Beer never stopped coming to your table.

You had an impressive way of acting as if everything was normal. You were always like this. Of course, Yoongi made you angry, but you’ve never resented him for something. Acting full of hostility in front of both of your friends would never be one of your goals.

On some other occasion, maybe you would’ve ignored him and his glances, but you can’t deny that you’ve wanted to see and talk to him for the past few weeks.

Your friends weren’t fond of your “relationship,” yet they were always curious about how you two treated each other whenever you saw each other after a while. Everyone always knew when you two were together and how many months you had spent without talking.

You can’t tell if that’s good or not, but everyone knew it was just a matter of time before you started seeing each other again.

Tonight was going well. You haven’t seen Hoseok or the other guys in a while. Aside from whatever you had with Yoongi, they were your friends, too. Not too long ago, you always went out on weekends to bars, parties, and the occasional concerts.

Ever since you distanced yourself from them a little, they got into relationships. It wasn’t until today that you actually spent time with them and their partners and got to know them a little.

Jimin was sitting on your right, and eventually, you found yourselves talking apart from the others. He started telling you about his partner and how he got in a little fight with them over whether it’s right or not to look at other people at the gym.

Later, the others were all over that topic, arguing whether it was socially acceptable or not to look at someone else at the gym while your partner was there with you. All the alcohol you’ve drank made itself present. Your overall volume rose with each minute, with everyone voicing their opinions.

You had already told tipsy Jimin your point of view, so you got fed up with the subject when it turned into an actual discussion between Hoseok and his partner.

Sam and Gemma were still talking with Jimin over what he did, his partner’s words, and whatnot. So you found your chance to get up and go to the jukebox.

It took less than two minutes of you looking through the catalog when you suddenly saw a tall figure standing by your side.

“Hi,” he said.

You turned to look straight into his eyes. “Hi.”

“You look radiant, better than before.”

You bit your smile back and answered, “can’t complain.” Still searching for a song.

He came closer to you, “we meet again.”

A smile escaped from you. “It’s been almost a year, huh.”

Now they’re walking on ice. To see who slips first. No strings intertwined. They were never anything, but there was always something.

“I know, it’s crazy.” He wasn’t going to waste any more time. “Can we meet later?”

There was something.

“My friend is staying over.” You had already picked two songs but still had three more credits.

“I can come by.”

You were thinking hard about which songs to pick, but Yoongi was making it really hard to concentrate.

Of course, I want you to come over. Yet, I still want to hang on to the small remains of my pride.

“I think it would be better if we go out sometime this week if you want.”

Filled with anxiety over what you were arranging, you started tapping your fingers against the machine, not remembering which artist you were looking for in the first place.

“I thought you no longer wanted to see me.”

You lifted your chin to look at him and gave him a smirk. “Well,” you said with a nervous laugh, “I did, but I can’t lie to you; I’ve been thinking about you for days.”

“Why?”

“Why? What do you mean why?”

“I don’t know, I thought you were done with me.”

“Yoongi, we can’t talk about that here.”

You were finally searching for the last song. “Well, I’ll see you at your house later.”

Again, you turned to look at him but gave him an annoyed expression. You kept going through Pink Floyd’s songs, your distress not letting you find your favorite song by them.

“Can I? Just for a while. I want to talk to you.”

“Talk about what Yoongi?”

Finally, <The Great Gig in the Sky>.

“About why you left like that back then.”

You finally turned your whole body to answer him, “Alright then, you can come by later.” And with that, you returned to your seat at the table. Everyone asked what took you so long, and while you explained that you couldn’t find the songs you wanted, Yoongi came back to his seat, too. All eyes were on you, his included.

It actually got you happy that he talked to you first.

Untethered intertwining. They were never anything, but there was always something.

Sam, Hoseok, and his girlfriend left around 2 a.m., but the rest of you kept finding things to talk about.

You never stopped drinking, but you weren’t feeling drunk yet. In one of your trips to the bathroom, Gemma told you she liked Yoongi for the first time, and it got you all giddy. As you were walking back, you and Yoongi couldn’t take your eyes off of each other. Both of you were getting impatient to finally be alone again.

You’re both talking to your friends, and you’re laughing, and you look across the table. You’re not even far apart, but you catch each other’s eyes, and it’s this secret that exists right there, unnoticed, and no one else knows about it, no one else but you and Yoongi.

The rest of your friends were already drunk, so he told you, “We should go.”

“Come on, I’ll take you both home.”

Gemma hopped in the back of his car, and you got yourself in the passenger seat.

All your actions were too familiar for someone who hasn’t seen this guy in over ten months.

The next thing you knew, your phone connected automatically to his car, and he urged you to put some music on.

It was until this moment, on your way to your house, that you realized you were very drunk. You don’t even remember which playlist or songs you played.

When you arrived home, you gathered all your might to get Gemma inside. (Yoongi helped you open all the doors and, most importantly, carry Gemma to your room).

You got Gemma into your bed, changed her clothes, and left her a glass of water on your bedside table. You also used the moment to gulp a glass of water yourself. Meanwhile, Yoongi was already settled in your living room, his eyes not leaving you. Lying on your couch, recognizing when you were feeling more than tipsy. “Are you drunk?”

His voice scared you for a second. You did not realize he was still there or that he was watching your every move. Your smile gave away that you were indeed feeling a little drunk.

“A little? Maybe?”

The way he laughs always gets you. It has this cute yet manly note that you’ve always loved so much.

You curled up on your couch next to Yoongi, facing him. You truly wanted to hear what he wanted to talk about, but this newfound comfort of being on your couch made you sleepy. At the same time, the way he was looking at you was letting the alcohol in your system wear out.

His heavy gaze no longer made you think about talking with him. All you wanted was for him to hold you and kiss you like he used to as if he couldn’t wait any longer to press his lips on yours, to interrupt you while you were saying something with a kiss filled with the desire you both had for the other.

“Are you dating someone else?” His question shocked you. You looked at him wide-eyed. Yoongi looked directly at your eyes like they were the only thing in the room, fearing that if he looked somewhere else, he’d miss the truth coming from your eyes.

Your face turned into a frown, and drinking in his words confused you. You sat straight to ask your first question, but he beat you to it. “Is that why you left me?” The blood drained from your face.

Is he serious? Is he genuinely clueless? Or is he just being stupid?

“Is that what you want to hear? That I’ve been dating around?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that you disappeared again; if you wanted me to go to hell, you could’ve said so.”

“What are you even saying, Yoongi?”

“I thought you were dating someone.” He let out what must have been a bitter laugh.

“Well, I’m not… I don’t have time to go out with ‘people’.”

Do you even know why it’s so goddamn impossible for me to let you go? Because every song, every moment, and every person reminds me of you.

Why did you even want to see him this time around? Have you ever thought about that? It didn’t even matter because it was always the same. You suddenly forget how you feel or whatever you wanted to say as soon as you’re in front of him. Even if you said something, he wasn’t going to listen. He never does.

“Are you dating someone?”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about. I need to know why you left me that night.”

“So, you are dating someone...”

“Just tell me why you left me.”

“Fine, I bet I won’t even remember this in the morning,” you laugh softly, maybe in preparation for what you would say next.

You collapse back onto your couch, sighing as your head sinks into the soft cushions. Your eyes drift upward, fixating on the blank expanse of the ceiling above you.

“It’s just that… I don’t know; that day, you were acting so strange toward me, and I truly thought you weren’t my Yoongi anymore. It’s like you were dying to get out of there, and I figured it would be better if I was the one who left first”. You smiled, but everyone could have seen the bitterness behind it. “I trust- no, I hoped… that what you told me that you wanted for us was true, but I couldn’t see a trace of that in you anymore. I didn’t want to turn into an anxious mess and think about you non-stop or… try to find out why you acted like that, so yeah, I left you again.”

He felt a tightness in his chest when he heard you say, “My Yoongi.” It wasn’t helping that your words sounded so real to him at that moment. This was easily the third time he’d seen you somewhat vulnerable. He was going to regret talking about this.

“Do you want me to ask you what was going on with you that day?” Your head was still on the couch, but it was now turned to get a better look at his face. You were still smiling.

He thought, Why is she smiling? Why is she always smiling?

“But you said you weren’t gonna remember this in the morning.” There goes his sweet laugh again.

“We can try.”

“Can we try with a kiss instead?”

Only the sound of cars driving by could be heard.

You don’t even remember that kiss anymore.

That should have been a dead giveaway that everything was bound to turn out very wrong after that night.

The following days were even worse. Your conversations over text were boring and awkward. You felt that he was being an ass on purpose, as if he was making you pay for what you “put” him through. Sick and tired. That’s how you were beginning to feel towards this ongoing joke. Over the week, you started remembering the first thing you wrote about him. It was the first time you’d drifted apart.

“I want to see you. I want to be with you now. I hate feeling this needy. I like you so much that I don’t know what to do with all these emotions. Remember that night when we kissed for the first time? Our lips touched, and I think my heart lost its rhythm for a few minutes. It’s okay if you don’t remember it the way I do. But I want you to know that I’ll never forget how you made me feel that night. I think I fell in love with you since then. I’ve missed you almost every day since you left. I realized that I look pretty when I’m sad, but I look prettier when somebody says your name, and I smile uncontrollably. I wish I could explain the physical pain I feel inside my chest when I think about you. And I wish that pain could be erased if we’re being honest. I don’t know what’s wrong with us. I’m running out of ideas to make this work, and I feel like if I don’t do something to save us, you won’t do it either; even though I know you care, I know you’re just going to stand there, arms crossed watching everything drift away. I can’t get out of my head that time you said that you felt that you were hurting me instead of making me feel good, and I said that sometimes I think I hate you. I swear I didn’t mean it. It’s just that I’m too scared of losing you for good because I have this feeling that I won’t feel like this ever again; I’m afraid I’ll have to lose this part of myself that feels genuinely in love with someone. I thought we were made for each other. I thought you were one of my soulmates. I still think we are. But we keep fucking it up every single time. I won’t lie; I’m fine some days, but the smallest things break me. I know it’s not your fault that I’m so damn sensitive, but my feelings have always been this intense, this is who I am, and I was hoping that you would learn to love the whole mess that I am just as much as I love yours. It’s not that I can’t be with someone else and forget about you—I know I can—but I don’t want to be without you. I don’t know what it is about this day, but my head feels so much heavier when we’re having problems. I feel mad at you, and I bet you’re mad at me, too. Have I always been this hard? Or are you just realizing that being with me is a lot of work and I’m not worth it? I’m not ready to let you go. You’re the only guy I’ve ever wanted to keep around. You treat me so well when we’re together. I love when you take my hand in yours. I love every time it’s just you and me, and we talk about life. There’s no one for me but you. You’re the only face I can see. I hope you know I’m only pretending to hate you when I love you so much. After all, I’ll always hope it’s you and me in the end. I’m happy if I get to be with you.”

That was seven fucking years ago. Funny huh?

It was never supposed to turn out like this. Who would’ve thought that someone could pull you down like this under the guise of love? Was it really only an individual’s fault?

Did it keep going because no one wanted to be the bad guy? If we didn’t have feelings for each other, if we didn’t think of each other, would we have dragged it on like this?

Those words played over and over again in your head. Whenever you came to be together again, that was eventually all you wondered about.

That first letter was born when the first layer that was blinding you was uncovered. It was as if something was finally letting you see the shape of the person Yoongi was—or at least the person he was with you.

Next year. The second “letter” came.

“Everything’s been so weird lately. I don’t get you. You didn’t talk to me for three days, yet you still think I’ll say yes when you want to see me late at night when you finally feel like it? Seriously? I’m angry at you, but mostly, I’m angry at myself. How can I be so blind to not realize that nothing will ever happen between us? Why am I still here? I know it’s because I want to be with someone, but maybe that person is not you. Because if you wanted to, we would be something by now. I know you won’t ever change because it’s been 2 years since this started, and you’re still the same. Maybe I fell in love with the hope and longing. All I did was imagine myself with you, I thought I was being patient about us. I can’t help but be a hopeless romantic, that’s all I’ve been my whole life. Occasionally, I find myself doing dumb shit all the time, like apologizing to the stars on behalf of both of us for not keeping our promises. I’ve been thinking about how sad I have been lately. Telling myself I’m stupid for loving you after all you’ve made me go through, how useless I feel, and how painful every day gets, honestly, this love I feel for you is making me crazy. But I shouldn’t be worrying about this. I know it may seem complicated to live with a broken heart, crying until your tears make you blind. I keep saying to myself, “It’s time you get yourself together, fall in love with yourself again, and forgive yourself for thinking you were stupid when you only acted out of love for someone who couldn’t see all you were.” But let’s be honest, being aware of all this still doesn’t make it any easier. I still feel so lost. And confused. I wish I knew how to stop loving you. I miss my peace of mind. I know what I’m supposed to do but don’t know where to start. I know that one day we’ll cross paths again, and I won’t feel a thing anymore, but until then, I’ll keep trying to convince myself that I don’t want you anymore. What have you done to me? What have I done to myself? What is it about you that ended up putting me through this hell? For the past few months, we barely saw each other. I still remember the last words we exchanged, and I feel sick, I keep wishing you would’ve done something else, hoping you would’ve said something different, but wishing for this doesn’t matter anymore, I’ll just keep hurting myself if I keep thinking about this version of you that I kept romanticizing. I’m tired now. All this was too much for me. But let me tell you one thing. I never even thought for a second that I was wasting my time with you. Not even when all my friends told me so. I took pride in myself for “knowing” when a guy doesn’t want you, but you were so confusing. You used to always be there. You knew exactly what to do and what to say so I could keep my love alive, making me think that maybe one day we would be together, but now I’m truly fed up with you. I’m angry. I know I can live without talking to you, but I don’t think I can be in the same room with you and not feel a thing. I’m telling you this because I want you to understand me. I want us to end on good terms because I know it’ll be impossible for us to stop seeing each other. So please help me, because this won’t be easy for me. I still care about you. I love you, but I can’t do this anymore. I need to keep crying, but understand me, I’m not crying for you. It’s just that I have so much inside me that I could never say to you. I know now that I was too much for you.”

In the span of two years, all that relationship lay before your eyes, yet somehow you didn’t want to see it. You decided to keep your hope alive even if it hurt you.

Several breakups between the two of you. A few relationships with other people in the middle of it all. Countless times you wanted to run to him just one more time. The occasional texts came from him, asking how you were and if you wanted to meet again.

You tried to be strong most of the time. You even felt you had gotten over Yoongi on every period where you’d stopped running into him. Those were the times when it was easy. But it was also quite embarrassing how quickly you’d fall into his trap once he got into your head again.

So yeah, you caved in after that kiss from last night.

You were letting this happen. You wanted this on this occasion.

It should be fine, right?

Eventually, after a few weeks, both of you started sorting out your emotions and everything felt pretty normal again.

Why do I make things so complicated when there’s no need to?

You can’t help but doubt yourself and doubt him. You want to know what’s in his head, yet you know it should be enough for you that he wants to keep seeing you.

All these doubts made you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re treating this in the same way you would’ve years ago.

Just focus on the now.

Aside from that…

You like him very much. He can talk about a bunch of things with you. He can be cute when he wants to be. You used to have a lot in common in terms of music. You like his style. And let’s not get started on his tattoos. ON TOP OF THAT, HIS ARMS. For some weird reason, I always forget he has dimples.

Ultimately, years pass and you always run back to him. You genuinely enjoy being in the same room as him.

No one has gotten close to how he makes you feel. Every time you see him again, everything feels the same. Your feelings towards him haven’t changed.

The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle but never break.

A month later

Ah, shit.

You were having a relatively good weekend. It was the 4th of July. You spent it with your family and now it was almost midnight but you were still texting with your best friend. She was at a party with Sam, Jess, and all the guys. You were experiencing a mild fomo, but you had a deal with your parents, so you had to pass that party this time.

Even Jungkook texted you earlier asking why you weren’t there. But that’s another story.

Your best friend was getting drunker with every text she sent, but she had put herself on the task of updating you with all of Yoongi’s whereabouts and doings.

I mean go ahead I guess. It makes me feel like it’s my fault for not showing enough interest again. This is making me uneasy. Because I like him but turns out he doesn’t like me enough? I WANT TO SCREAM.

I shouldn’t be angry because it’s my fault. I know so. I’m not trying enough, and maybe this was bound to happen. I can’t ask him to just talk to me. He needs to live his life too, he’s human, and he gets tired of waiting for someone who doesn’t seem “invested” in him. FUCK.

He ended up coming to your place around 1 a.m.

And this time, you actually talked. You were worried he’d drank too much, but he showed to be as sober as one can be.

Before he got there, you were extremely nervous, but once you sat with him on your couch, all your tension and fears calmed down. You valued that he was able to make you feel that way.

Your feelings went on a rollercoaster in a matter of a few hours, it was so fucking strange to read those words. To paint yourself a picture of what Yoongi was doing with you.

“Why weren’t you at the party?”

“I spent the whole weekend with my parents, so I couldn’t go.” “I wanted to, though.”

“It would’ve been cool if you had gone, everyone was asking about you.”

A smirk appeared on your face. “And what did you tell ’em?”

“That you didn’t want to see me,” He joked.

You started playing with him.

“That’s sliiightly true,”

After that, he laughed but got closer to you. He even got a lot more talkative, narrating to you everything he and your friends did earlier on. You were pretty entranced in him. It’s risky when you love to hear someone just talk. He took in the way you were gazing at him and figured there was no point in wasting more time. It was obvious Yoongi only went to your place to see if he was getting lucky tonight.

You realized his face was inching closer to yours. Your eyes scanning his own. Him doing the same, with the occasional glance at your lips. You weren’t gonna kiss him. Still, you let him get close enough so your lips could brush each other.

Then you smiled.

You weren’t gonna miss the chance to let him try to explain to you what the hell was going on, so you thought you’d go straight to the point.

“Can I ask you something?”

He returned your smile.

“Wait, let me guess”- “You want to know if I have a girlfriend”.

Motherfucker.

Your smile faltered slightly at him guessing the question, but he maintained eye contact with you. “Yeah, I figured that’s what you wanted to ask,” he replied. His tone is a mix of playfulness and seriousness. “No, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

The way his mind immediately went there. We’ll worry about that later.

Yoongi’s words echoed in your ears, you couldn’t help but believe him. There was something about his voice, his gaze, that made you blindly trust his every word.

Yoongi’s expression softened, his gaze unwavering. “I want you to know that I’m being genuine right now. I don’t have a girlfriend, I’m not seeing anybody formally, romantically, emotionally, or whatever you imagined. I want to give us a chance to make things right for you.”

You clung to the hope that this time he was telling the truth.

A sense of relief washed over you as you leaned closer to Yoongi. Ignoring the cautionary whispers in the back of your mind, you let yourself be swept away by his intoxicating presence.

His lips met yours in a passionate kiss, and for a moment, it felt like all your doubts and worries faded away.

Days turned into weeks, and you reveled in the blissful illusion of having Yoongi in your life once again. Yoongi seemed attentive, caring, and utterly devoted to you. He showered you with affection, making you believe that you were his only one this time.

Over the next months, your interactions with Yoongi were limited to texts. There were no dates or visits to your house or his place, for that matter. It’s like he was growing bored. But that’s nothing new anymore.

You started to grow tired of his refusal to let you go, even if he didn’t like you the way you liked him. You knew it was time to move on and find someone who would honestly reciprocate your feelings.

And then, on a spontaneous note, one day, you stumbled upon someone through Instagram.

thv replied to your story.

It started with you two sending each other songs for a few days.

Then, when you got to actually talk to him. You realized he was funny, his music taste almost immaculate, he was extremely nice to you, and he cared about what you had to say. You basically had the same interests. And hands down, you enjoyed talking to him a lot.

Ever since you started talking to this new guy, called Taehyung, you felt like something had shifted in your life. And it’s only been 3 days since then.

This time, it turned out you were wrong. Wrong about everything.

I can’t regret anything, because I tried, I wholeheartedly tried. I don’t plan to try and understand him anymore.

Yoongi had been lying through his teeth the whole time. He did have a girlfriend, and he reveled in his power over you. He enjoyed playing with your emotions, relishing in his control over you.

You found out a few days ago, and you struggled to know what to do. You weren’t going to just ghost him. You couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be passive-aggressive toward him, and it showed in your texts.

But you weren’t counting on that he was even more of a cynic than you. And you were getting angrier that he wouldn’t accept anything and refused to let the conversation die.

So yeah, it took 3 days.

It took you that long to get yourself way ahead of everything. About Taehyung specifically.

You don’t remember having met him before.

If only you knew that he remembers the first time he saw you in college and several parties after that.

He’d grown attracted to you every time he saw you. However, you never once seemed to acknowledge his presence.

And don’t get him wrong. He didn’t mind. You were just a platonic interest. Somehow he knew you weren’t exactly available even if he never saw you with a guy before.

He just took his chance a few days ago, not expecting anything. Just with the simple excuse of finally getting to know you.

He was a good listener, interested in your thoughts. With each message exchanged, your connection grew extremely fast.

This got you scared. You had barely talked to him and were already getting VERY INTERESTED.

On the fourth day, he invited you to the movies, but ended up going out to two bars and then dancing.

You shared even more stories, talked about your dreams, and even found yourselves discussing your insecurities in your love life.

Taehyung made you feel seen, heard, and valued – something you hadn’t felt in a long time. He was patient and understood your reservations.

On the cab, in the way back to your place, you rested your head on his shoulder, hand in hand, you truly felt so calm, it had been the nicest date ever.

Hell, you haven’t even had a proper date in years. So, no one can blame you when you finally let yourself be vulnerable for once.

Taehyung knew he’d like you, but never to this extent. He wasn’t scared when he realized he was falling in love with you. All he wanted was to see you every single day from now on. He took the initiative to plan a date next week, but you went out of town to visit your cousin.

So Monday it is. There was only one thing that you had to take care of. Before you let yourself move on to the next step in your love life.

Dealing with Yoongi was getting tiring, so it finally happened. The long overdue conversation occurred. Over texts, but it happened.

For once, you didn’t see the point in continuing. You and Yoongi have been through this road way too many times, and nothing has changed.

You decided to cut ties with Yoongi for good on that Monday. From now on, Taehyung could be the only one in your head.

As you were getting ready for your date with Taehyung, you couldn’t help but think about your conversation with Yoongi just a few hours ago. It was strange how life presented you with new opportunities right on the heels of letting go of the past. The decision to leave Yoongi was still fresh in your mind, but you hoped that this date with Taehyung would make you feel different, as bad as it could sound, but a distraction to that awful bit.

Taehyung took you to the movies, and from the moment the film began, your hands found each other’s, fingers intertwining. The dimly lit theater provided the perfect backdrop for this quiet display of affection. The movie itself was fun at times, but it was almost a blur of scenes and dialogue because your attention was elsewhere. You didn’t realize that Taehyung also spent that entire hour and a half not watching the movie, but watching you. He observed the way your eyes lit up at the funny parts, the sound of your laughter made his heart skip a beat. It was as if he had his own private screening of your reactions, and to him, it was the most captivating thing in the world.

The next stop on your adventure was an arcade, a place filled with flashing lights and the noise of all the games you can imagine. You couldn’t resist the air hockey table, and without hesitation, you both grabbed the paddles. As the puck glided across the smooth surface, it was evident that both of you were really good at it. Soon, a couple of small kids had gathered around, their eyes wide with fascination as they watched you play.

Taehyung, multitasking effortlessly, started chatting with them while maintaining his competitive spirit. A little girl, no older than seven, stood beside you, her eyes sparkling with innocence. She looked up at you with a hopeful smile and asked, “Are you going to beat your boyfriend?” Her question caught you off guard, and you burst into laughter at her adorable bluntness. Taehyung, engrossed in his conversation with the other kids, didn’t hear the question. All he could see was how your laughter sounded like the sweetest melody in the world.

Distracted by your laugh, Taehyung lost to you in the game. The little kids erupted in cheers, celebrating your victory as if you had just won a championship. They eagerly lined up to give you high-fives, momentarily forgetting that Taehyung even existed. That was until he, still keen on entertaining the kids, asked if they knew how to play. The result was an excited chorus of enthusiastic and loud ‘yes’s’.

It was an endearing sight as Taehyung listened attentively to the kids. Meanwhile, you couldn’t help but smile at how easily he connected with them.

“Okay, guys, what’s the next game we should play?” Taehyung asked, genuinely intrigued by their suggestions.

The kids seemed to have a dozen ideas at once, and it was all a jumble of arcade classics, from racing games to shooting hoops. One girl, with a mischievous glint in her eye, pointed at the dance machine in the corner.

“Can we try that dance game?” she asked, her excitement infectious.

Taehyung exchanged a playful glance with you, and you both agreed, despite the potential embarrassment that awaited you. The music blared from the machine, and you gave it your all, dancing like nobody was watching (except a group of kids, of course). Taehyung joined in nervously, even though his dancing skills were almost too good.

The kids burst into laughter at everyone’s dance moves, cheering you on with each step. It was one of those moments where embarrassment turned into pure joy, and you couldn’t have cared less about who was watching.

It was heartwarming to see him engage with them, making sure each child had a good time. After making sure the kids had enough tokens to keep playing, Taehyung gently took your hand, and together you wandered through the arcade. The place was a riot of flashing lights and game sounds, but it all faded into the background as you explored hand in hand.

Eventually, you came across the game involving knocking down rows of clown figures. You both paused, taking in the challenge. With the timer ticking down, Taehyung turned to you. His eyes sparkled with affection, and amidst the blinking lights and arcade tunes, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

You paused for a moment, your heart racing as you looked into Taehyung’s eyes. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to kiss him - far from it. In fact, you felt a strong pull towards him, a connection that seemed to grow with every passing second. Even more so, after the side of him you saw today.

But there was something holding you back, a nagging doubt that whispered in the back of your mind. You had just met Taehyung, and even though the chemistry between you two was sweet, you wanted to take things slow. You didn’t want to rush into anything, not after what you’d been through with Yoongi.

So, with a soft smile, you gently shook your head and replied, “Not yet.” It was a response that carried a promise, a promise that there would be time for kisses and more in the future, once you were both ready to take that step. Taehyung nodded understandingly, his smile mirroring your own, and you continued your adventure to a bar, still hand in hand.

As you settled into a cozy corner of the bar, the atmosphere shifted, becoming more intimate. The soft hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and mellow jazz music in the background created the perfect backdrop for a meaningful conversation.

You started by talking about your time at the arcade, laughing about how the kids had cheered for you when you won the game. Taehyung joined in, sharing his amusement at their excitement. It was a light and joyful conversation that made you feel even closer to him.

Taehyung was genuinely interested in getting to know you better. He asked about your family, and you shared stories about your parents and siblings. In turn, he spoke fondly about his own family, reminiscing about childhood memories and you noticed how much he loved them.

Work became the next topic of discussion. You both talked about your careers, your aspirations, and the challenges you faced in life. Taehyung’s dedication and passion for his job shone through, and you found yourself admiring his determination.

As the night wore on, the conversation deepened. You talked about life, dreams, and the things that truly mattered to you. It was a conversation that left you feeling a sense of connection you hadn’t experienced in a long time. You realized that this was different from anything you had with Yoongi, something that was still scary to you.

As the night progressed and the conversation with Taehyung deepened, you couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between him and Yoongi. Taehyung’s genuine interest in getting to know you, his kindness, and his openness were like a breath of fresh air compared to the complexity and uncertainty of your history with Yoongi.

The realization that this connection with Taehyung was different, something new and potentially beautiful, both excited and scared you. It was scary because it meant stepping out of your comfort zone, venturing into unfamiliar territory, and leaving behind the emotional rollercoaster that had defined your relationship with Yoongi.

But that fear didn’t deter you. In fact, it fueled a sense of courage you hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe you were ready to embrace something real, something stable, and something built on honesty and trust. It was a daunting prospect, but for the first time in a while, it might be worth taking that leap into the unknown.

The night had stretched on longer than you had initially planned, but you didn’t mind one bit. In fact, you didn’t want it to end.

As Taehyung’s car pulled up to your place, reality seemed to rush back in. With the engine turned off and the night’s silence settling around you, you both remained seated in the car. It was one of those moments where time felt suspended, and neither of you seemed in a hurry to say goodbye.

You gazed into Taehyung’s eyes, his warm and sincere gaze locked onto yours. Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt a mix of anticipation and nervousness. You knew what you wanted, and in this moment, you felt a surge of courage you hadn’t experienced before.

Taehyung’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as he said, “I had a really great time tonight.”

You smiled, your heart racing. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice equally hushed.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air.

Finally, you took a deep breath, your nervousness mingling with excitement. “Taehyung, can I ask you something?”

His eyes were curious. “Of course.”

Without overthinking it, you leaned in, closing the gap between you and Taehyung. In the dimly lit car, your lips finally met a gentle and electrifying connection that seemed to seal the promise of something new, something real.

As you pulled away, your foreheads touching, you whispered, “I’ve actually been wanting to do that all night.”

Taehyung chuckled, feeling a newfound hope. “Me too.”

Unable to resist kissing him way longer, you reached out again. The kiss started slow, a tantalizing exploration of each other’s lips. Your mouth was warm and inviting, and Taehyung couldn’t resist the urge to deepen the kiss.

Your lips moved together with a fiery passion, tongues dancing in a tango. There were no more words, just the intoxicating taste of each other. Your hands roamed, tracing all of his torso, igniting a fiery desire within both of you.

Taehyung bit your lower lip, sending shivers down your spine, and you responded with a soft moan. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss grew more fervent. It was a hunger that had been building all night, and now it was impossible to contain.

The kiss was wild, a passionate exchange, a language of desire and longing. You explored every inch of each other’s mouths, savoring the taste of your newfound connection.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless, lips swollen and hearts pounding. Taehyung’s eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that matched the fiery kiss you had just shared.

He whispered, his voice husky, “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you.”

You grinned, your own desire burning bright. “I’m glad we finally did.”

As you entered your home, the soft glow of your phone illuminated the room. You couldn’t help but smile as you saw a series of texts from Taehyung, sent with an urgency that mirrored the fiery passion of your kiss.

From that moment on, there wasn’t a single time of day when you weren’t texting each other. The connection between you two was electric, and it seemed like every message, every word, only deepened your bond. It didn’t take long for Taehyung to invite you again on a date, and he chose a taproom for the occasion.

Taehyung arrived the following Saturday at your doorstep around 7 p.m., his charming smile lighting up the evening. Dressed casually but looking effortlessly handsome, he greeted you warmly.

“Hey there,” he said, his voice a pleasant melody. “Ready for our night out?”

With a nod and an excited smile, you locked the door behind you and joined him. The short drive to the taproom was filled with easy conversation and soft laughs. When you arrived, you were greeted not just by the cozy atmosphere of the taproom but also by some of Taehyung’s friends who had already gathered there.

Taehyung couldn’t contain his excitement about introducing you to his friends. He made the rounds, enthusiastically presenting you to each one of them, his introductions filled with admiration. As the evening went on, his friends couldn’t help but tease you both when they knew you weren’t officially a couple.

However, that made them gush about Taehyung. They spoke of his kindness, his sense of humor, and his unwavering loyalty. They assured you that you’d found someone truly special, and it was clear they thought he’d done the same in finding you.

Throughout the night, amidst the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth and belonging. Taehyung’s friends were welcoming, and their approval only added to the unique feeling of the evening.

As the night continued, the connection between you and Taehyung deepened. Your hands naturally gravitated towards each other, fingers interlacing as if they had always belonged together. There was a palpable comfort in being so close, and the world around you seemed to fade into the background.

In the midst of this enchanting evening, a message from Sam popped up on your phone. She was suggesting a plan for tomorrow - a baseball game. Without a moment’s hesitation, you enthusiastically said yes.

But what made your heart race, even more, was the eagerness to include Taehyung in your plans. You turned to him, a radiant smile on your face, and said, “Hey, my friends just invited me to a baseball game tomorrow. Do you want to join us? It’d be amazing if you’d come with me.”

His eyes lit up with delight at the invitation, and he nodded, “yeah, I’d love to be there with you.”

It felt like a natural step, merging your separate worlds and bringing Taehyung closer to your heart.

In your world, your friends were your anchors, your family, and the people who knew you best. If someone couldn’t fit into that crucial part of your life, it was often a telling sign that the relationship might not make it.

As you looked forward to the baseball game the next day, there was a mixture of excitement and nervousness. You believed in Taehyung and the genuine connection you shared, but there was always that sliver of doubt. Would he mesh well with your friends? Would they see what you saw in him?

But deep down, you had a feeling that this was a significant step. If Taehyung could seamlessly become a part of your world, it would be a powerful confirmation of your relationship.

Thoughts of tomorrow’s baseball game, and the potential changes it might bring, had temporarily vanished. All you craved at that moment were the hugs, kisses, and the warmth of holding Taehyung’s hand.

The atmosphere seemed to hum with your love surge, an electric charge that coursed through you, making every moment feel like a heart-pounding adventure. As you bid farewell to Taehyung’s friends, you couldn’t wait to be alone with him, to dance again at the same bar where your love story began.

Tonight, something was different. Your excitement was on an all-time high. The tension that had built up between you over the last dates, the unspoken desires and emotions, were now rising to the surface. The connection between you two was undeniable, and your touches were igniting sparks that seemed to intensify with each passing second.

In the dimly lit bar, the pulsating beat of the music coursed through your veins, syncing with your every move. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, and as you moved to the rhythm, your dance became a sensual invitation. Your body swayed and undulated in harmony with the music, your hips swiveling provocatively to the seductive melodies.

Taehyung watched you with desire burning in his eyes, unable to resist the magnetic pull you had on him. Your dance was a mesmerizing display of confidence and allure. Your hands moved sensually across your own body, tracing the curves and contours that begged for his touch.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Taehyung stepped closer, his hands finding their way to your hips. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers traced the curve of your waist, pulling you closer to him as he succumbed to the same fiery rhythm.

Your bodies moved together, pressed intimately against each other. The heat between you grew with every tantalizing sway, and the world around you faded into obscurity. In that moment, there was only the two of you, lost in the lights of desire and passion, each movement drawing you closer to an inevitable collision of lips and bodies.

As the night at the bar wore on, the two of you shared more than just dances. After one particularly intense moment, you found yourself with your back pressed against Taehyung’s chest, the thumping bass of the music reverberating through both of you. His breath was warm against your ear, sending delightful shivers down your spine. In that space, with his arms wrapped around your waist, it felt as if the world had disappeared, leaving only the sensation of his closeness and the rhythmic beating of your hearts in unison.

Between dances, you took breaks to calm yourselves with a beer or whatever drink you saw first at the bar. Each moment spent apart only seemed to fuel the intensity of your attraction. With every sip of your drink, you couldn’t help but glance back at Taehyung, a magnetic pull drawing you together once more. The atmosphere was heady with desire, and your chemistry was through the roof. Each dance, each stolen moment, was a step closer to something neither of you could resist any longer.

After those couple of hours of dancing that left you slightly breathless, you decided to seek refuge in one of the dimly lit booths at the corner of the bar. It provided a temporary sanctuary from the dance floor, allowing you to catch your breath and collect your thoughts amidst the lust that was echoing in your ears. The low hum of laughter and conversation from people around you provided a calming backdrop as you settled in, your heart still racing from the intimate moment with Taehyung, who had managed to stir emotions you hadn’t felt in quite some time.

He slid into the seat opposite you, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers through your body. In the closeness that the booth offered, you could feel something deeper between you. It was as though the music, which had once enveloped you in its intoxicating embrace, was reduced to a mere murmur in the back.

With a playful grin, Taehyung finally broke the silence that had settled between you. “You know,” he began, his voice a low, seductive murmur, “I think we might just be causing a lot of jealous looks in here.”

You chuckled, the sound husky and filled with desire. “I noticed.”

His fingers traced patterns on the table, drawing invisible lines as he continued, “It’s not just about dancing, though. I’ve been imagining being with you like this since the first time I laid eyes on you, and it’s been killing me all night.”

You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your ears as you whispered, “Since the first time you saw me?” Not trusting yourself enough to say what you were really thinking, so you mirrored his words.

Taehyung’s hand reached across the table, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. “I can’t keep my composure anymore,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been thinking about more than this all week.”

He paused, his gaze locked onto yours with a smoldering intensity. “You know,” he added with a sultry smile, “seeing you getting along so well with my best friends earlier, it just… made me so hard.”

The anticipation hung in the air like a charged current, a palpable magnetism drawing you closer together. It was a sensation you couldn’t ignore, a magnetic pull that seemed destined to ignite into something more profound.

You bit your lip, your pupils were blown, unable to contain the emotions surging within you. “Taehyung,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, “if you keep this up, I think I might fall in love with you.”

His eyes sparkled with a mix of desire and affection as he leaned in closer. “Is that so?” he murmured, his lips tantalizingly close to yours. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

Moments later, Taehyung led you to his apartment.

“I’m glad that we can finally be together like this.” He said with a sincere smile, his hand moving lower to cup your ass. He couldn’t resist anymore; he had to have you right then and there.

He slid his hand under your skirt, feeling the smoothness of your skin against his fingertips. Traced the outline of your panties through the fabric of your bottom. Taehyung felt a wave of arousal wash over him as he painted himself a picture of what lay beneath. Slowly, he slid his hands up your legs until he reached the hem of your panties. With a gentle tug, he pulled them down, revealing your wetness to him.

The sudden exposure caused you to blush slightly, but it only fueled his desire further. You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of what came next “*Aren’t you going to see how wet I got because you?”

He leaned in and gave you a soft kiss on the cheek, then gently placed his hand on your inner thigh. As he did so, he whispered in your ear. “Do you really want me to do this?”

“I want this, trust me.”

He slid his hand up higher, feeling the warmth and dampness of your cunt. He could hear your soft gasps and moans as he touched your pussy. He continued to stroke you gently, feeling your muscles tighten around his fingers.

He heard your moans and started to become even more aroused. He could feel his own hard on growing in his pants, and he knew that it would only be a matter of time before you both got carried away. He slowly pulled back from you and looked into your eyes, his face flushed red with desire. You could tell that he was just as affected as you were.

You nodded, your eyes locked with his as desire coursed through your veins. You breathed, “I want you to touch me. I need your hands in me.”

A low growl rumbled in Taehyung’s throat as he gave you a hungry look, his fingers inching closer to your dripping core. “Fuck,” he muttered, unable to contain his own need. “I’ve been dreaming about this for days. About burying myself deep inside you.”

The raw desire in his words sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing second. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, desperate for his touch.

His fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasingly avoiding direct contact with where you needed him most. The anticipation was almost unbearable as you fought to maintain a hint of control.

“Please, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “don’t make me wait.”

A wolfish grin tugged at the corners of Taehyung’s lips as he finally gave in to both of your desires. His fingers dipped into your wet heat, eliciting a moan from deep within your throat.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he groaned, his voice rough with lust. “Did I make you this way? Did I make that pretty little pussy of yours ache for me?”

All coherent thought flew out the window as Taehyung pumped his fingers inside of you, hitting all the right spots that made pleasure surge through every nerve ending in your body. You could only manage to nod and let out a desperate moan in response.

He wrapped his other hand around your neck, pulling you closer to him. He could feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers, and he knew that you were enjoying this a lot.

He started to apply pressure to your neck, feeling your body respond to his touch. You let out a small gasp of air, and as he continued to choke you, he leaned in closer to your ear and whispered. “Do you like this, baby? Is this what you wanted?”

His thumb found its way to your clit, circling the swollen bud and sending jolts of electricity straight to where you needed it most. The pleasure was overwhelming, bordering on blissful torture, as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me, baby,” Taehyung whispered, his hot breath fanning across your ear. “I want to feel you cum around my fingers.”

His words were all it took to push you over the edge. The coil of pleasure that had been building inside of you snapped, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through your body. You clung to him as you rode out your orgasm, his touch the only anchor keeping you grounded in a sea of sensations.

As the last tremors of pleasure receded, Taehyung pulled his hand away and brought it up to his lips, sucking your taste off his fingers with a look of pure satisfaction on his face.

After a few hours spent in tangled in touches, the clock ticked its way to 4 a.m., signaling the impending end of the night’s bliss. Despite the energy that was bubbling up between you, the evening hadn’t ventured beyond the boundaries of those lewd touches, leaving something else lingering in the air. As the minutes kept passing, a sense of reality nudged its way back into the forefront of your mind.

“You’re even sweeter than I imagined,” Taehyung’s voice, thick with desire, caressed the dimly lit room, echoing the sentiments of the night.

With a hazed smile playing on your lips, you gently disentangled yourself from Taehyung’s embrace, the need for rest tugging at your consciousness. “I have to go home, Taehyung,” you murmured softly, your words tinged with regret at the thought of parting, “I should get some actual sleep if we want to spend the whole day together again.”

Your fingers traced soothing circles along his shoulders, a silent reassurance of your affection. “You are coming with me tomorrow, right?” you queried, hope flickering in your eyes as you awaited his response.

In the hazy glow of his room, Taehyung’s gaze met yours, a promise dancing in his eyes. “Absolutely,” he affirmed, his voice laced with determination, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

With a final exchange of tender kisses and lingering glances, you reluctantly bid farewell to Taehyung’s warm embrace, bracing yourself for your way home.

Despite the lingering effects of last night’s alcohol roaming your body, a surge of adrenaline pulsed through your veins as you rolled out of bed, battling against the persistent fog of a very hungover you. With each groggy step towards the bathroom, the anticipation of the day ahead infused your weary limbs with energy, overriding the dull ache in your head.

As you splashed cool water on your face, the mirror reflected a mix of exhaustion and excitement in your eyes. Today was the day you’d introduce Taehyung to your best friends, a prospect that filled you with nerves. The thought of seeing their reactions, of sharing this part of your life with them, ignited a spark within you.

After downing a much-needed glass of water and popping a couple of painkillers to combat the lingering headache, you set about getting ready for the day. Despite the persistent throb at your temples, you couldn’t help but hum a tune under your breath, the thrill of today’s plan chasing away the last traces of drowsiness.

With each minute, the excitement grew, the clock ticking in slow motion as you counted down the moments until Taehyung went to pick you up. Finally, the sound of the doorbell shattered the quiet of the morning, heralding the arrival of your lover boy.

With a quick glance in the mirror to ensure you looked somewhat presentable despite feeling like shit, you hurried to answer the door, a smile of genuine delight spreading across your face at the sight of Taehyung standing on your doorstep, two large cups of coffee in hand and a grin that mirrored your own excitement.

“There we have my pretty and hungover girl,” he greeted you warmly, his eyes alight with anticipation, “are we all set for the big day?”

With a nod and a grin, you took the cup he handed you, the aroma wafting up to greet your senses. “Definitely”.

As you and Taehyung arrived at the stadium, the vibrant atmosphere of the bustling crowd greeted you with a wave of excitement. Sam, Gemma, and Jin were already waiting for you near the entrance, their infectious laughter echoing in the air as they exchanged playful banter.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up!” Sam exclaimed, her grin widening as she caught sight of you and Taehyung approaching. “And who’s this handsome stranger you’ve brought along?”

lmk if you're up for reading the second part of this mess 🤭 bonus. just a little jungkookie for fun

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ericsprincess · 9 months

Text

yours for the taking

nc-17, smut, boyfriend!Sangyeon, body worship, rimming (Sangyeon receiving), anal fingering, vaginal sex

~~~

part 2 here

~~~

A/N: dedicated to that one girlie who really doesn’t like Sangyeon. You will probably not read this, but I hope you will see the light one day :)

~~~

Finally, Friday. You sigh tiredly, dropping on your living room couch. You put your feet on the coffee table and huff. This week felt more like a month, with the mountain of work you had to do at your job and you couldn’t wait for it to be over. Having finally logged off from your work computer a few minutes ago, the only thing left to do was to throw yourself on the couch and wait for your boyfriend to come home, so you could decide how to spend your Friday evening.

Maybe I can even sneak a nap, you ponder. Although Sangyeon’s shift at work ends earlier than yours, he also goes to the gym after work every day. Even on Friday, which only makes you admire your dedication, since your own gym visits are based mostly on how you’re feeling about it at that moment. Sometimes you find it a little bit annoying that he’s such a stickler about it, but you have to admit, his hard work pays off. He looks amazing and you can never have enough of his body.

So you just grab a blanket, snuggle under it, close your eyes and rest. You’re more exhausted than you thought because it seems that you fall asleep immediately and suddenly you’re being woken up by the sound of the keys unlocking your front door.

“I’m home!” Sangyeon yells from the hallway, kicking off his shoes and dropping his gym bag on the floor. “Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?” he peaks into the living room.

“Hi, baby, it’s okay, I was just napping. How was your day?” you detangle yourself sleepily from your blanket and sit up to welcome him. You’re about to get up and go hug him, but he stops you with a raised hand.

“Y/N, I would not recommend coming close to me,” he smiles. “I did not have time to shower at the gym, because I wanted to come home earlier and I’m way too sweaty right now. I’ll head to the shower and you can nap some more, okay?” he says while already pulling his t-shirt over his head on the way to the bathroom.

Uhh, what a sight, you let yourself drool a little over your boyfriend’s body. He’s been looking especially good lately, since he also got a bit of a tan and he’s still having some pump from the gym. You can’t stop staring at him and touching him and he seems to enjoy the attention too. Sometimes you’re sure he’s provoking you on purpose, just like he did right now - taking off his t-shirt in front of you with mildly exaggerated stretch of his arms over his head, putting his abs and chest on display.

Once again, as it seems to be a habit these days, the more you are thinking about his body, the hornier you get. You look at the closed bathroom door. You can hear the faint sound of the shower and Sangyeon’s muted humming of some song. Could I…? You wonder. Well, why the fuck not.

You get up and march right into the bathroom. When you open the door, it’s already steamy there and you stop to admire Sangyeon’s muscular body behind the fogged up glass, as he’s washing himself. His shoulders are wide and his arms are thick with muscle and veins. His back is wide but waist is thin, with picture perfect six pack abs that make you want to just rub your pussy all over them until you come. And you can’t forget his beautiful full chest, only asking to be bitten and sucked on. His ass and legs are nice and muscular too, and you are really glad he’s not one of those guys who skip legs. You can count on Sangyeon to do everything correctly and properly.

Not to mention he’s always perfectly waxed and shaved everywhere, making his body so much more…lickable. Especially now, when you can see rivulets of water running down his body.

“Oh- hey,” he notices your presence almost immediately and smiles at you, with one of those warm smiles of his, so you quickly take off your clothes and leave them on the ground. You join him under the shower and he does waste a second to embrace and kiss you.

“Did you miss me that much, baby? You had to come to my shower?” he teases you jokingly and you start kissing his neck and collarbones. You know he gets your intent clearly now, even though it amuses him, as usual. Provoking you with his perfect body is his favorite pastime lately, and he clearly enjoys the effect he has on you.

“Yeah,” you whisper, and latch your mouth on his nipple while touching and squeezing his other pec. Sangyeon closes his eyes and leans back on the tiles, enjoying the feeling. You can feel his cock getting hard against your hip, so you just suck harder, knowing it’s one of those things he loves receiving, even though he wouldn’t admit it.

You let his chest go and slowly sink on your knees in front of him, licking his abs on the way down. He takes his hard cock in his hand, positioning for you to suck it, but you only lick and suck on the tip, tasting his precum, while he sighs from the pleasure. You pull away and look up at him.

“Turn around,” you order.

“What? Why?” he’s confused, but instead of a reply, you grab him by his hips and try to turn him, which he obeys with a laugh.

“Hands on the wall,” you speak silently, and he does just that, puts his hands on the tiled wall and leans forwards. You take both of his buttcheeks in your hand and squeeze them a little, enjoying the softness and roundness of the muscle. There is no point in wasting time, you’re sure Sangyeon already figured out what’s gonna happen either. You pull his buttcheeks apart and dive in with your whole face, licking at his hole immediately. You have never done that before, but you’re making up for your lack of experience with enthusiasm. You rub your tongue over it, teasing, almost as if you were making out with it. He’s clearly trying to hold back his moans, which pleases you, as you were not sure how he would react. But it seems that he’s into it, arching his back slightly to push against your face more, so you reward him by flicking your tongue over his hole quickly.

You move one of your hands on his hip, to hold him better while you try to penetrate your tongue inside him. It’s not really possible, he’s too tight and your tongue is just a muscle, but it makes him whimper just at the insinuation of it. You move your hand to rub over his abs, feeling his quick aroused breathing, and how his core muscles move under your hand. It’s intoxicating to know you have such an effect on him right now.

You slide your hand down on his cock and it's as hard as ever, slick, with copious amounts of precome. You’re wet too, you know it without checking - eating Sangyeon’s ass, his reactions and the taboo of it made you so horny it almost hurts. You want him in you immediately.

You get up and press yourself over his back, kissing his neck while he breathes so deeply, as if he were running a marathon.

“Lets go to bed? I really need you to fuck me right now,” you whisper and he can’t even speak, he just nods quickly with his eyes still closed. He looks like he could cum at any moment.

You both get out of the shower and give yourself the quickest wipe down with the closest towels, just to not drip water everywhere and practically run naked to your bedroom, half-wet.

You throw yourself on the bed and he jumps right after you, pressing you down, folding your legs up, now wasting a second and pushing his cock into you. You don’t need any preparation and having him inside you feels like a relief.

“I’m not gonna last long, just so you know,” he chuckles and you huff. “Me neither, but start moving before I literally die.”

He starts fucking you immediately with all the force he can muster, not bothering with any teasing or finesse, just trying to get you both to cum as soon and as hard as he can. You’re holding onto his back when you get a devious idea.

You slowly move your hand down his spine as he’s thrusting into you, lower and lower until you stop at his ass. fingers just right at his asshole. You give him few seconds to refuse and when he doesn’t you slowly push a finger in, into his still wet and relaxed hole.

He whines and his hips stutter, his face buried in the crook of your next, while you're fingering him gently. He’s still fucking you but it’s as if he can’t decide whether to fuck into your or fuck himself on your finger. You’re also close, high from the power you have over him, and how easily you were able to make his strong beautiful man into a puddle.

He’s almost out of his mind from pleasure, succumbed to just his primal feelings to fuck, when you whisper into his ear.

“Should I add another one?” and that’s what does him in, and he moans and cums in you, while thrusting into you hard, and it helps you come too, when you feel his cock pump you full of cum. You’re rarely having an orgasm at the same time, but when you do, it feels like you can experience the pleasure of yours and his at the same time, and it feels like you can't stop coming.

It takes a minute to come down, to make the ringing in your ears stop and your breath slow down, and in the meantime he rolls off you and slumps on the bed next to you. He’s just lying half dead, eyes closed, face and chest red and sweaty.

He finally opens one eye. “You know, if I knew you would like my body this much, I would have started seriously working out sooner,” he mumbles, face half-buried in the bed.

You turn to him and weakly slap him on the arm, “Oh I’m sure you would,” you laugh.

He moves closer to you and grabs you into a hug. You settle comfortably in his warm embrace.

“Next time, let me show you how much I love your body though,” he whispers.

Ooh. Can’t wait.

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mvltixcc · 3 months

Text

Girls Like Girls - Robin Buckley X Cheerleader!Reader

Summary: Robin has a crush on the new girl in town. Y/N is also a new member of the cheer squad, which means Robin sees her all the time at games and other school events. Unfortunately, Robin is put in a tough situation. She's scared to talk to her because the cheerleaders have a reputation of being mean girls and she fears that Y/N may not feel the same. Little does Robin know that Y/N does not appear as she seems. Y/N becomes best friends with Eddie, which seems unlikely at the surface due to different social circles. This leads to rumors of course and word spreads like wildfire here at Hawkins, which then makes Robin's feelings even more confusing. After hanging out with Steve and the gang, Robin starts to see a different side to Y/N. Will they end up together or will they just remain friends?

Word Count: 1.3k

Pinterest board for inspiration

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“You know what Buckley, if you’re gonna criticize the way I do my job why don’t you just do it yourself.” Steve said jokingly, handing Robin a vhs tape and headed back to the counter.

“It’s not my fault you don’t know anything about movies.” She chuckled as she put the movies away.

“Well you have fun with that, I’m gonna go man the register.” Steve said as he continued to walk away from his friend. Robin continued to put away the tapes, a few people came in here and there but it was mostly dead on this particular Friday night. Which was odd, all things considered. It was around 8 o'clock when a group of people had walked in.

“Welcome to Family Video, let me know if you need help finding any-, oh great here we go.” Steve said as the group walked in. “What?” Robin asked, as she was restocking the candy display. She stopped in her tracks for a moment, looking up from her spot. “Oh uh hey there.” Robin stammered.

“Hi Robin!” Y/N said excitedly. Robin had a hard time putting words together. You usually came here at the same time every Friday to pick out a movie. Robin almost thought you weren't coming because it had gotten so late. But there you were, standing in front of her in your cheer uniform. 'Practice must have gone late." Robin thought to herself. She stood from her spot to get a better look at you. ‘God she looks so pretty.’ She thought. A few people walked in the store, causing a slight breeze to head in your direction. She caught a scent of your perfume. She closed her eyes for a moment as she took in the smell, it was sweet and gentle. It smelled of vanilla. “Are you gonna pick a movie or what Y/N?” Eddie interrupted, bringing Robin out of her thoughts.

“Yeah yeah yeah, just give me a minute you goose.” Y/N turned to her friend and said jokingly. She walked over to the movies and went section by section to find the right one.

“Okay let's not destroy the display guys.” Steve said dreadfully as he walked over to the rest of the Hellfire club trying to clean up the mess of his hard work he had done earlier.

“Boooo, you’re no fun Harrington.” Gareth had mocked. Steve picked up the last item, sarcastically laughing back the comment. “I’m fun, I’m Steve Harrington for god sakes.” He muttered under his breath as he walked back behind the counter.

Robin watched you as you pondered for the right film. You had gone aisle by aisle with no luck. Then suddenly you had picked up a movie and scrunched your nose as you had inspected it. Robin felt a smile creep upon her face, she couldn't help but look down in hopes you or anyone else could see her.

“Now why are you making that face?” Eddie questioned as you held up the movie to show him why you had said expression written upon your face. It was a copy of My Bloody Valentine.

“What about it?” Eddie continued to question.

“Do you see what section we’re in!?” Y/N proclaimed, pointing to the sign that had said ‘romance’.

“Oh god are you gonna make us watch a girly flick? Sam made us watch one of those last week, okay we don't need a repeat of that!” Eddie groaned.

"I can hear you, you know!" Sam stated from across the store.

“No you goose, this movie is in the wrong section.” She laughed walking over to the counter to check out the film.

“Did you guys find everything alright?” Robin asked as she scanned your items. “Yeah we found everything okay.” Y/N said getting her money out of her wallet. “That's not true, this was in the wrong section.” Eddie stated pointing to the movie.

Robin groaned, “Damn you Harrington.”

“What is this pick on Steve day?!?” Steve had proclaimed.

Robin finished checking you out, she couldn't help but admire how beautiful you looked under the light. She was soon interrupted from pondering as you had said your goodbye’s, waving and flashing a small smile to Robin. She had waved back and gave the same smile in return, but that soon faded as she saw Eddie put his arm around your waist as your group walked out of the store. Robin let out a sigh and hunched over the counter, letting her head fall into her hands.

“You okay?” Steve asked his friend, giving her a small nudge.

“Yeah I’m fine.” Robin said, picking her head up and brushing the hair out of her face. “Yeah that’s a load of bullshit and you know it.” Steve said, sitting up on the counter. “You like her don’t you?” He questioned.

“Does it really matter? She’s with Eddie, she’s not interested in girls.” Robin stated, messing with the string coming off of her sweater. Steve couldn’t help but feel sad for his friend. He couldn't imagine how hard it is for her to try and find someone during times like this. I mean this is the 80’s and a small town in Indiana for crying out loud. “Have you even asked her?” He questioned.

“Oh yeah let me just go up to the most beautiful woman ever and just say ‘wow nice weather we’re having here, oh hey by the way do you like to kiss girls?’ Do you know how stupid that sounds?!” Robin got nervous just thinking about it and when she got nervous, she rambled.

“Well don’t talk about the weather with her for starters.” Steve chuckled.

“You know what I mean dingus!” Robin said, giving her friend a slight shove.

“Look, you won't know unless you ask, who knows maybe she likes you back? You thought that she was mean and scary because of her being a cheerleader, you were wrong about that weren’t you?” Steve stated, he tried to remain hopeful for Robin. He wanted his friend to be happy. She shrugged, Robin’s hopes in finding a girlfriend became low after everything that had happened with Vickie. She was happy that the two could remain friends, but it still stung nonetheless.

“Next time you see her, you should ask her to hang out. It’s a start to get to know her and to know for sure right?” Steve asked, now facing her.

“I guess, I just don’t wanna go through that kind of heartache again.” Robin said, looking down at her feet.

“Well no matter what, I’ve got your back.” Steve said, bumping into Robin. This caused her to chuckle.

“Alright alright, let's get back to work so we can get out of here. You owe me a bite to eat after this for making me clean up your mess of your so-called organization.” Robin laughed as she went to organize the returned tapes.

“You’re never gonna let that go are you?” Steve asked.

“Nope.” Robin yelled from the back.

Next chapter

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queenof-curses · 1 year

Text

Choso: My Best Friend's Brother

♡ ♡

He's been watching you for years, enjoying the light that you bring into his life. One day, you decide to ask why he doesn't date...

Well, he's just been waiting for you.

♡ ♡

Choso Kamo x Fem!Reader

Masterlist | More Jujutsu Kaisen

Read the previous installment here

Read the next installment here

wc: 4.5k

cw: Minors DNI! Breeding, Gaslighting, Explicit Sex, Alcohol, Yandere Choso

“If you’re so obsessed with family, why don’t you just have kids?”

Your question wasn’t meant to come out that way, but your nerves have always got the best of you.

Wide, shocked eyes blink back at you, their surprise making you blush from embarrassment.

You shouldn’t have asked Choso why he didn’t have any kids… shouldn’t even have brought up that he was so obsessed with family. The conversation, thankfully, took a lighter turn as he answered you.

“I never really thought about it until recently…” he says, his fist coming up to rest his chin on as he ponders the thought. “I guess I never really found the right girl to do it with…”

“Ew, Choso- no one wants to hear about your sex life,” says Nobara.

“Oh come on!” Yuji interrupts, slapping his hand across his older brother’s back. “Choso’s just being protective!” He leans in closer, “You’ll find the right girl someday! Then I’ll make the best uncle ever!”

“Yeah, sure Yuji… you’ll just spoil the poor kid rotten, buying them sweets and soda pop,” You say.

That makes the group laugh, the subject of Choso finding a girl seeming to slip from everybody else’s mind.

Everyone but Choso.

In fact, Choso had found the right girl to have a family with. One that already got along with his friends and brother…

You.

You had been the subject of his mind for quite some time, probably ever since Yuji brought you home for a study session with Nobara and Megumi all those years ago. A new face to the neighborhood, you had a lot of schoolwork to catch up on mid-semester, so the teacher assigned the Fushiguro boy to help you along. It was Yuji to volunteer his house for the tutoring, and ever since then you have been inseparable from the trio.

A few years have gone by since then; you all graduated high school and attended the local community college to stay close to both each other and home. Choso was the oldest out of the group by a few years, having to take care of Yuji when their parents abandoned them as children, therefore he was the one with the salaryman’s job.

He had gotten to know Yuji’s friend group quite well over the years, and yet every time he saw you it stole his breath away. From the very beginning, Choso made a point to make himself more available to Yuji and his friends, you included.

He made you all dinner after the late night study sessions, let you all drink alcohol under his roof, and was always there for life advice or a ride home. Choso had made it a point to make sure you saw him in the light- a light of what a good man was like & how great of a husband he would be.

Even he’ll admit it, though… it was more than just a crush. Maybe it started as a crush back when he was a senior in high school and you just a freshman… but now? Now Choso was in love with you- you were meant for him and he for you.

Your comment earlier that day ignited something in him… it told him that you thought of him as a father figure… that a girl would find him appealing and want to have children with him.

Was it you secretly offering him that life?

In Choso’s twisted mind, it was…

He thought of a plan, one to execute after everyone would go to bed that night. It was Friday, which meant the group would come over to he and Yuji’s house to drink the troubles of relationships and schoolwork away for the weekend. It was then he would be able to isolate you, finally letting you know that he was ready- ready to start a family with you. It was set, and he just had to wait.

–

It was finally Friday, you thought as you made your way up the steps.

It was time to let loose- you had your overnight bag and your phone was already off and tucked away. Arriving at the door, you don’t bother knocking or ringing the bell- the door was open and this was practically your second home.

You step inside and scream out, “I’m here bitches! The party has arrived!”

Happy hoorays and yells echo from the kitchen, and as you walk in you realize you were the last to arrive. Everyone already seemed to be 2 or 3 drinks deep, and that meant that you had to play catch-up.

You discard your bag by the steps leading upstairs and immediately start pouring a line of 3 shots- all meant for you.

“Nice of you to join us!” Yuji practically screams as he pounds a beer back.

“Tch- watch it, pink puffball…” Megumi turns his nose up, nursing his own concoction on the rocks as he moves out of Yuji’s spill reach.

“Hey!” Says Nobara. She waves you over to where she sits at the dining table with Choso.

You watch as Yuji’s older brother locks his gaze with yours- making you blush. He was always so straightforward, but you were glad he was drinking with you and your friends tonight. His normal suit and tie had been discarded for a black v-neck and sweats, you notice that his hair is also down in a low bun- a change from the regular two-bun look. It was nice to see him so relaxed around you. You see him bring his whiskey up to his mouth, sipping the glass as he raises an eyebrow at you.

Silently, you know he was beckoning you towards the shots you just poured. Like a champ, you down them in one go- the straight rum burns your throat, making you cough a little. However, you were no bitch, so you take them one after the other, not breaking eye contact with the older boy as you do it.

He smiles when you’re done, enjoying the show and giving you a nod of approval.

That’s my girl, he thinks.

You immediately feel the effects of the alcohol, opting in for a mixed drink as you go sit down next to Choso and across from Nobara. And for the next couple of hours, you enjoy yourself- drinking away the night with your closest friends.

You don’t overdo it- you couldn’t tonight when you knew Yuji & Nobara would be a mess. They would need you eventually, either holding hair back, or making sure they don’t streak through the neighborhood naked. Megumi left eventually, not liking to spend the night at other places but his own home.

After a while, Yuji & Nobara pass out on the couches- their drunken snores echoing through the room and making you giggle.

“They’re something else, aren’t they?” Choso says as he clears empty glasses from the table.

You blush in response, suddenly realizing that it was just the two of you left for the night.

“Yeah,” you tell him, “Normally that’s me though…”

He laughs then, “Not really… you don’t snore.”

“I- I don’t?”

Whoops, he catches himself- I wasn’t supposed to say that.

“I- Uhh, I mean when you sleep on our couch during movie night, you don’t snore then..”

Good save.

“Oh!” You laugh, of course that’s what he meant…

A beat of silence passes before Choso speaks up.

“Hey, Uhh listen- you remember that band you were talking about the other night? Well I got their newest album on vinyl. Did you, uh- want to give it a listen?”

His question shocks you- yes, you were relatively close to Yuji’s older brother, but not like that… you had your similarities and laughs, but you’ve never even seen his room...

Hesitantly, you nod in agreement- leaving Yuji and Nobara to sleep off their liquor.

After topping off your drinks, you follow Choso upstairs and into his room.

It’s not what you expected from a salaryman, the walls were decorated like an angsty teenage boy’s room. Death metal posters and black aesthetics adorned his bedroom, all the things you enjoyed displayed out in front of you as your mouth sat open in shock.

You didn’t realize you had so much in common with Choso, and as he closed the door behind you and turned on his record player, you were kind of excited to get to see him like this.

Sitting next to you on his bed, your legs brushed against his. He was close- almost too close as you listened to him talk about the band’s music.

You listened as best you could- watching the way his soft lips moved with excitement, the way his muscles flexed under his v-neck with his hand gestures, and the way he angled his lap towards your body.

The amount of attention was getting you hot- and you gulped down your drink in an attempt to cool off. Of course, that was a bad idea- alcohol always lowered your inhibitions, and Choso noted the way your blush crept down your face and across your chest.

“Did you hear me?” He says, interrupting your somewhat dirty thoughts.

“Hmmm?” you ask, not remember what he was just saying.

“So do you agree?”

Shit, you thought, agree to what? You panic, nodding your head and saying yes out of the anxiety of admitting that you weren’t listening.

Of course, Choso knew you weren’t paying attention as he watched you check him out moments ago. Using the opportunity, he decided to lie-

He would get what he wanted tonight, whether you were aware of what you were agreeing to or not.

“That’s great! Thank you- I think once we do this, I’ll have a better chance the next time around… and don’t worry I’ll make sure you feel good too.”

What the fuck did you just agree to?

Before you can react, his lips were on yours.

He feels you push against his chest, but not before he realized you were kissing him back.

“Whoa! Choso wait…”

He covers your hand on his chest with his, “I thought you wanted this? Why else would you agree?”

“I- I do agree… I like you Choso, but don’t you think we should do this thing, I don’t know… maybe sober?” You ask him.

He couldn’t believe your words- you actually liked him! He was over the moon, but the older boy knew he couldn’t let sobriety push you away from him.

“I’ve been drinking too, ya know… it’ll be better- our inhibitions are blurred, and I hear alcohol makes you really sensitive…”

As if to prove his point, Choso closes his eyes and leans in. His warm lips are on yours in an instant, softly molding your mouth to his in a passionate embrace. He holds the wrist of the hand that touches his chest, pushing it to the side and then cupping one of your breasts.

You moan into his mouth at the touch… He was right, you could feel each digit as he gently massaged your breast. You still wore clothes- but not for long. As his lips moved against yours, he stuck his tongue inside as you allowed him your submission. Your tongues danced in a sloppy embrace, and you felt his hand creep up under the hem of your shirt.

He moved his skilled hands past the underwire of your bra, cupping your bare breast as you moaned into his mouth. Choso swallowed your lewd sounds with eagerness- loving the way you felt under his skin.

He couldn’t wait to feel you underneath him -- or around him -- for that matter…

Choso was losing his mind over you coming undone against him. He hooked his fingers around your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. Your lips immediately find his once again, and you hold his face against yours.

He smiles into the kiss… happiness consuming him as you move onto his lap to straddle him.

“Mmm… that’s it Princess, come here…”

He buries his hand in your hair, bringing you closer. You can feel the bulge forming at his crotch, you can’t do anything to stop yourself from grinding down on it.

Choso growls into your mouth, his free hand moving to your ass and massaging it over your leggings. The alcohol blurs your mind, he was right- it did feel good. Normally, situations like this would lead to foreplay. But in this case, your body felt like it was lit on fire.

You grind your clothed core onto his crotch, feeling yourself getting wetter by the minute.

“Choso- fuck…” You moan as he pushes himself up against you.

“Shit-”

It’s all he can muster out before he’s gripping you by the ass and flipping you onto your back. His soft bed sheets feel cool on your heated skin, but it isn’t enough to relieve the feeling building up inside of you.

In swift movements, you remove your bra while the older boy takes off your leggings and panties in one go. You're left naked under Choso’s wide gaze- his greedy eyes taking in every single exposed inch of your figure.

“Fuck.”

It’s all he says before he’s on top of you. Your legs fall open as your arms hold him close. His lips smash into yours in heated passion as you lose yourself in him. You needed to feel his skin on yours- needed to be one step closer to relief as you pushed his shirt off his body.

As he kneels up to remove it, he smiles down at you.

Choso was all man.

Hard, chiseled abs from his daily workouts look back at you. His exposed chest heaved with heavy breaths as you took each other in.

“You’re fucking beautiful.” he tells.

You giggle at his reaction, the alcohol still fizzing your mind.

“No- you are.”

He only smiles as he lowers himself back into your embrace.

You feel his soft lips come down your neck, peppering light kisses from your jawline down to your tits. He encircles your budded nipple with his tongue, covering it in his saliva only to blow out cool air onto the erect bud.

“Oh!” you moan out- arching your back into his touch. The change between hot and cold was messing with your mind.

He does the same with the other breast, sucking his way across your chest and leaving dark hickeys that mark his territory.

“Fuck, baby… I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Choso makes his way down your tummy, each kiss like a brand on your skin as he sinks further down the bed. He makes himself comfortable between your thighs, locking both his hands behind your knees and pushing up.

Your mind spins from his actions… normally you would be completely shy and embarrassed at what he was doing, but the liquor gave you liquid courage. You wanted to feel good tonight, so you’d allow Choso to do whatever he wanted to get you there.

In Choso’s mind, he’s never seen anything so pretty.

Holding your knees high up, he lifts your lower body into the air as his face comes inches away from your heated core. Your glistening pink pussy is temptation in physical form.

He drools at the sight of your open cunt- watching the way your exposed hole twitches as if desperate for his cock.

“Holy fuck…” he says, leaning down to swipe his tongue from your asshole to clit.

It makes you buck your hips as you sigh out at the relieving pleasure.

“You taste so fucking good…”

You watch him lean back down, except this time he doesn’t come back up.

Choso buries his face into your cunt, eating out your little pussy like a man starved. He pushes his tongue inside, running the tip of it against the heat of your inner walls.

You moan and mewl against him, your hands coming down to rest on his head. Losing yourself to his touch, you allow him to eat you out with reckless abandon.

He felt the way you ground yourself into his mouth, tasting the sweetness of your cunt on his lips. He used his face to hold your folds open for his taking, burying himself deep and making you scream out into the room. You flood his mouth with your wetness as he slurps and sucks you with vigor.

Bringing two fingers to your entrance, Choso sinks them both into you in one go- massaging your tight walls from the inside.

“Oh my god…” you moan, breathless as you feel him being to finger fuck you. You grip his long hair tighter, forcing it out of his messy bun as you bucked against his touch.

You can hear the way your cunt squelches under his strategic touch- he works you hard, showering you with praise as he watches the way his fingers disappear into you.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this… you hear that? Your little cunt sucking my fingers in… that’s right baby…”

He watches you closely, memorizing each reaction you give him, noting the right angles that make you mewl.

You look down as he plays with you, seeing the smirk he wore spread across his face.

“Choso I- oh fuck!” You cry out.

Warm lips latch around your clit. His heated tongue toys with your swollen bud as he finger fucks you, each flick of his wrist sending you further into bliss.

“Fucking cum on my face baby- you taste so fucking good.”

His words are enough to send you over, your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cum harder than you ever have before. You feel the way your cunt clenches down on his fingers, his tongue circling your clit fast as he plays you like an instrument.

He slows the thrusts of his fingers, moving his head up to watch the bliss reflect onto your face as he admires your fucked out body.

Covered in sweat, your body tenses as you grip the sheets of the bed. You grind your hips as he slows the movement of his fingers, finishing you off with a sparkle of obsession in his eyes.

Choso has never seen anything more beautiful than you cumming. The pleasure raking through your body as he drinks up your release- he kitten licks your cunt, lapping up your mess as your loud cries turn into soft gasps, your sensitivity high as he brings you down slowly from bliss.

You shut your eyes, taking in his light touches against your inner thighs. He kisses your clit one last time as he moves up and away from your pussy.

He inched his way back up your body, ultimately resting his forehead against yours- the action making you open your eyes and look into his.

“You’re so fucking beautiful you know…” he tells you, leaning down and kissing you deeply on the lips; you can taste yourself on his tongue. “Is it ok to keep going?”

You realize what he was talking about… it seemed too fast -- too real -- as you come to think of how you’ve never really seen Choso in this light until recently.

But as you look up at him with sheer adoration, you tell your best friend’s older brother exactly what he wants to hear.

“I think I’d like that.”

The smile he gives you was all worth the wait. Choso leans into you, molding his lips to yours with newfound fervor as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

Your mouths dance together as you both smile into the kiss. You were surrounded with his scent, drowning in the smell of incense and vanilla. He engulfed you with his body, the bulge of his clothed cock rubbing against your bare core.

It was then you realized that he still wore pants-

“Mm Choso- take your fucking pants off.” You tell him, making him laugh lightly as he pushes himself off the bed.

You lean back on your hands, watching as he slowly pulls his pants off. His boxers were black, matching the darkness of his hair and was currently straining under the pressure of his member.

Your mouth watered as you watched his thumbs hook around the waistband and pull down. You watch with eager eyes as his cock springs free from restriction. He had a shaft that curved up slightly, veins decorating the side of his member as they met an angry red tip.

He was fucking hard- Choso groaned at the relief of finally freeing himself from his boxer briefs. As he watched you watch him, he could feel the way his cock leaked- getting more turned on by the second as you eyed his dick like a hungry beast.

Fuck, he wanted to stick it down your throat right about now- but he knew if he did he wouldn’t be able to do the one thing he’s wanted to do since he met you: fill you up.

His fists clench at the predicament, and he takes a moment to make a final decision.

He gets back on the bed, hovering over your body as you lay under him. You wait for him to take the lead, ready to submit to him in any way.

Choso’s hands cup the back of your knees, bending your legs up towards your head. He put you in a mating press- a position so exposed and vulnerable you blushed under his gaze.

He lined his cock up with your entrance- both of you dripping as if your bodies weeped for one another. The tip of his cock nestles against your entrance and he holds it there as his expression turns dead serious.

You whimper under his stare- your hole being slightly stretched from the tip against your opening. After noticing his pause, you open your mouth to ask when he cuts you off.

“I’m going to breed this little cunt of yours.”

Then he slams himself into you, fully sheathing his cock into your tiny opening.

Your scream echoes in the bedroom. It would wake up Yuji and Nobara if they weren’t still drunkenly passed out downstairs- but the noises you made couldn’t be helped.

Choso held your legs up between your bodies, you were folded in half under him as he slammed himself down into you. He fucked you merciessly, and all you could do was take it.

He muttered words filled with promise as watched you scream for him below.

“Mmm gonna fuck you, gonna fill you up- you’ll finally be mine, fuck! I want to breed you, have you swollen with my fucking kid-“

He just kept going- his words not fully registering in your fucked out mind as your cunt sucked his cock deep into your body. The slam of his hips with every thrust sends you reeling, unable to focus on anything he was saying.

“Cho- fuuuuckk…”

Your eyes rolled back, becoming crossed as he pounded into your cunt. You could hear the way his skin slapped against yours, your pussy squelching with each thrust. It felt so good, so raw… you would be sore in the morning, but at this moment you couldn’t think of anything better.

He locked both his hands around your throat, using his body to keep your legs in place. He loved seeing you bent in half like this, your airway slightly cut off as he squeezed your neck lightly.

His eyes were almost feral, pupils blown wide as he felt your cunt clench his shaft tight. Between thrusts, he fed you more words of encouragement.

“You’re so fucking pretty, I love seeing you like this- love you so so much baby. I’m gonna fuck a baby into you tonight, ya know? Gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine…”

You tried to grab him as you processed his words- attempted to speak, but it was no use…

Yuji’s older brother was too far gone- too obsessed with you as took in his amplified emotions.

You had always felt something more for Choso, and even though this felt like skipping ten thousand steps in the relationship, you decided to let it happen. That you weren’t necessarily against the idea of him knocking you up - and oh - the way he was doing it felt so fucking good.

You screamed as he angled his hips downward, the soft curve of his cock rubbing against your g-spot and pushing his tip near your cervix. The force he used to pound into you made his balls slap against your puckered hole with each thrust- he was deep, it was no doubt what his intentions were.

“Ughhh- fuuu….” Your words came out muffled, his hands around your throat cutting off your attempt at words.

He lets up only slightly, “Hmmph- fuck baby…” Choso says, cupping your chin and forcing you to look at him. “Tell me what you need.” He commands.

“I- fuck- I need your cum in me! Fucking fill me up Cho…” you cried.

He laughed at your begging, the tone and desperation in your voice sending pleasure straight down to his cock. He could feel the way his balls clenched up, threatening to spill over at any moment from your wretched cries.

Choso held out for a little longer, he wanted to make you cum one last time.

Removing a hand from your neck, he was able to sneak it between your writhing bodies and hook his thumb over your clit.

Tears sprang from your eyes as you felt him rub circles onto the swollen bud. His movements matched the fervor of his hips, forcing you to succumb to your basic needs for the second time tonight.

He felt it when it happened- the way your hole clamped down on his member and sucked him in. Your hands came up on his bare shoulders, nails digging into his body and leaving a series of red scratches as you cream all over his cock.

Your cunt squirts onto everything- coating his cock, abs, and the bed underneath you.

“Shit- you’re so fucking tight Princess, that’s right- milk my cock baby, make a fucking mess…” he moans out, sounding desperate for his own release.

You’re too fucked out to respond, your face covered in drool and tears as you let him destroy your tiny cunt.

The speed of Choso’s thrusts begin to get sloppy, your tight and wet heat being his end as slams into you one last time. You look up to see his beautiful face scrunch in concentration as he buries his cock as deep as it would go, growling out his own pleasure.

Your warm walls grip him tight as you feel the thick, hot cum fill your womb.

Choso moans as he cums inside of you- your cunt pulling each and every drop of seed he was able to give. He leaves himself buried deep as he reaches out to caress your cheek.

You welcome his tender touch, the intensity of the last few moments getting to you. He wipes away the tears and coos you down from the overwhelming amount of emotion you currently felt.

“Shhh… baby, I’m right here.” He says, letting your legs down and holding you in a warm embrace. “I’ll always be here.”

He finally got what he wanted- and although you’d never outright admit it, you did too…

#Choso x Reader #choso x you #choso jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #queenofcursesjjk #queenofcursesfanfic #jjk imagines #choso kamo #choso #choso imagine

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enhastolemyheart · 6 months

Text

BROKEN — P. SH

pairing sunghoon x reader

genre angst, unrequited love (?)

synopsis who knew that you would be too late when it came to confessing to your childhood crush?

warnings crying, overthinking, proofread but lmk if any mistakes

word count 1.2k

networks @k-films @/hyfenet

note HI! I'm back with a fic!! I wanted to write something out real quick and was feeling like angsty saur this is the result!! Hope you guys like it :)

Why can’t I just say how I feel? Why can't I just let Sunghoon know?

It shouldn’t be hard. It should be natural. The most natural thing on earth. Everyone does it, right? Everyone’s always done it. It’s nothing. Just one small step. A few words. A few taps of a keyboard, even.

I reach for my phone. I’m gonna do it. I could call you, or… no. I’ll text. It’s less stressful that way, for me and for you. It lets us make sure we say precisely what we mean. Less chance for misunderstandings.

I open up my messages and scroll to your name. It’s not hard to find. I could pick your face out of a crowd anywhere. Opening the conversation, I start to type.

Hey Sunghoon, I was just wondering, would you maybe-

No.

That’s not good. It’s too weak. Too apprehensive. You’d smell the fear through the screen. I need to project confidence. I try again.

Hey, do you want to go to dinner with me sometime?

I ponder this for a while, eventually shaking my head. It’s too abrupt and unclear. You might not realise that I mean as a date. You might think I’m talking about a casual platonic meetup. That’s not a mistake I want to make. I want you to know what I’m asking. I want to know what your answer means. Sighing, I glance around my room, searching for inspiration. It’s a waste of time. Hundreds of books and movies, yet not a single one can give me the answers I need. In desperation, I turn to the world’s most treacherous source of advice. The internet.

Sure, there’s a lot of garbage on there, but if you slog past the cheesy pick-up lines and pseudo-psychology, there really are a few hidden gems. Not that I can find them. Almost everything I read is about dating in person. Standing up straight. Projecting confidence through physicality. Maybe even a bit of light contact, a hand on the arm, that sort of thing. Solid advice, but utterly useless to me since, you know, you’re halfway across the country right now. Still, slowly but surely, I cobble something together that sounds more or less decent.

Hey, I know you were back in town recently. How about Friday we go for dinner at that pizza place you like, then afterwards take a walk through the park? They’ve revamped the gardens, and I think you’d love them.

Dinner and a romantic, moonlit walk. That sounds like a date, I suppose. I’ve managed to make my intentions clear. Plus, I sound confident. No umming and ahhing, no self-defeatism. The best thing of all is it gives you an easy out. If you’re not interested, you can say you’re busy that night. If you genuinely are busy, you can suggest another time. It’s not like the park is going anywhere.

The message is perfect. I’ve done it.

I’m ready.

Now, there’s only one thing left to do.

It’s just a shame it’s the hardest thing of all. My finger hovers over the send button, unable to take that final step. I keep telling myself to just press it and get this whole thing over with. But that annoying little voice in my head keeps arguing. What if they say no? What if they decide they hate me? What if they don’t want to talk to me anymore? It’s times like this that I wish I drink. A little bit of liquid courage is exactly what I need right now. That’d shut the damn voice up. But I don’t take a drink. Instead, I do the stupidest thing possible. I give myself time to think. Yeah. I’m an idiot.

Before long, that little voice is running rampant. What am I doing? This is stupid. So, so stupid. Sure, I want more from our relationship. But what if you don’t? What if, by doing this, I ruin our friendship? I don’t want to lose you. I tell myself again and again that I’m overthinking. That you aren’t like that. That it would take more than a bit of awkwardness to drive a wedge between us. But I’m not convinced.

Sure, maybe we’d be fine for now. But what if you find someone else? Will they be okay with us being friends, knowing how I feel about you? I’m not so sure. Besides, I know that you’re not exactly looking for a relationship right now. Truth be told, it’s probably not the best time for me either. But that shouldn’t matter, not really. If two people are right for each other, they can overcome anything, can’t they? The timing might not be ideal, but we can get past it.

Then again- I almost scream in frustration. I can’t do this anymore. Picking up my phone, I delete the message, deciding to wait until you’re back and tell you how I feel face to face. It’ll be better that way. I can put all that advice to use and win you over with my charming smile.

I’m lying to myself, of course.

I know the odds are good that I’ll still find a way to bottle it. I’ll still talk myself down. But maybe, just maybe, I won’t. Maybe I’ll find a way to beat that annoying little voice. Do you know what the worst thing is? You probably think I won’t say anything because you don’t mean enough to me. That my fear of rejection is stronger than my feelings for you. You couldn’t be more wrong. In a weird, paradoxical way, the strength of my feelings for you are what stops me from saying anything. You’re amazing. The most perfect human being I’ve ever met. Every time I see your smile, my heart soars like an eagle. And when I hear your laugh, dimple on display, my body glows with happiness. Even when I’m just listening to you vent about your troubles, I feel like I’m hearing a classic tale equal to anything Shakespeare, Austen, Hemingway ever created.

Because you’ve nailed the most important part of storytelling. You’ve made me care about the protagonist. You’ve made me care about you. And I couldn’t bear it if I did something stupid enough to drive you from my life.

The next couple of weeks pass in a blur. I throw myself into school work, glad of the distraction. In the brief moments I let myself think of you, I begin to convince myself that I really will tell you how I feel. That by not saying anything, I could be robbing us of so much time together. By the week before you’re due back, I’m certain. The next time I see you, I’m asking you out.

My muscles finally relaxing, I slump back into a chair. I’ve spent a long day at my desk and am ready to unwind. Turning on the TV, I grab my phone and begin mindlessly scrolling through social media to catch up with what my friends have been doing. I see some pictures of you celebrating a friends' birthday. I smile. You’re happy, and that makes me happy.

But then I swipe to the last picture and see you wrapped up in somebody else’s arms, your rosy lips pressed against theirs.

Fuck.

My head spins. My chest tightens. I feel like I’m about to pass out.

Putting down my phone, I put my head in my hands and start to cry. Why didn’t I tell you how I feel? Why didn’t I atleast try to see if you felt the same way? Why do I have to be so damn broken?

a/n: tysm for reading!! Hope y'all liked it

perm taglist: @jak-ey ; @snoowhore ; @hsgwrld ; @seungiesluv ; @1-800shutthefuckup ; @heeseungshim (send an ask to be added)

#enhastolemyheart #k-films #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #park sunghoon #enhypen imagines #park sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #park sunghoon angst #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fanfic #park sunghoon imagines #sim jaeyun #enhypen jay #yang jungwon #heeseung

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tenjiiku · 1 year

Text

rapture / winter

it's been ten years since you left. he still falls for you the same way he did when he was 17.

manjiro sano x fem reader

11.7k words

warnings: portrayal of abusive relationships

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You first met Manjiro at ten years old. Two years your senior, you were positively terrified of him. You remember this now, of all times, particularly because you dreamt about your first encounter last night.

It was during the Summer of 2001 on a Sunday afternoon.

Having Emma Sano appear at your door only three days after sharing a simple smile with her from across the lawn of your new home was certainly a surprise. Mama had fawned over her many times over dinner, urging you to befriend her. To which you would dismiss, opting to gaze at the girl like some foreign entity — open to admire but never encounter.

The year was in that strange time between the Summer and Autumn. It was awfully cold to fully show one's legs, but by the same coin it was too hot to be wearing a sweater. You weren't sure if Emma had caught you at a favourable or unfavourable moment. You had just gotten out of the shower, on the one hand. On the other hand, because you finished your schoolwork and housecleaning on Friday, you had nothing to do over the weekend.

(Thinking back, Emma had always watched over you.)

“Y/n-chan! We're cuttin' some watermelon, come have some!"

The older girl is positively giddy. You briefly get blinded by her radiant aura. The trees and grass are both stunningly green, and the sky is clear and blue. The scenery complements Emma's presence and vice versa.

She is mature and beautiful. She is everything you are not.

You pinch your inner palm, bend your four fingers and dig them into your skin.

"I...," you start, "I don't know..."

"Are you busy or somethin'?"

"I... was cleaning." You lie.

Emma rises to her feet in response to your justification, leans to one side, and looks inside your home. When you realise what the blonde was doing, your eyes widen, and you awkwardly lean in her direction to hide her vision. It was too late, though.

"Your house looks pretty clean to me!" Emma cheers, "Come on, I wanna play!"

You open your mouth, close it, then open it once more before murmuring a small, "Really?"

"Mhm, we’re gonna play hide n' seek!"

You bite the inside of your cheek. You gaze at your feet, bare because you could not afford indoor slippers. Then you stare back at Emma's hazel coloured eyes.

"Come on!!!"

You take a deep breath in, suddenly becoming hyper aware of every action. You consider all the drawbacks of saying yes to Emma's invitation. But your personal worries would pale in comparison to the blonde's disappointment at being rejected. You had a strong desire to spare Emma's sentiments of disappointment for some reason. Mama had always told you to respect your elders — to never question them, to always be a good girl and listen. So you did. And Emma was no exception.

"Alright..."

Emma grins. You cannot help but also smile. Mama would be so proud of you.

It's almost comical how little it took for the girl to become so filled with glee — but you found it rather cute. You can practically feel Emma's contentment as you finish putting on your sandals.

"Come on, come on. Hurry hurry, the others are waiting!"

Others?

Before you can ponder on that thought a second longer, Emma grabs your arm as soon as your key leaves the door's hole. You try to calm the beating of your heart as you find yourself entering Emma's large complex. What ever were you thinking — going into a stranger’s home when mama was gone?

"Ah! Emma, you brought her!"

At the sound of a boy’s voice, you snap out of your reverie. The hold Emma has on your wrist is taken away and you suddenly feel as though lava has been poured onto you from the sheer intensities of the various pairs of eyes all drawn onto your meticulous frame.

But you dare to look up, and notice that Emma has brought you to the dojo you would often listen in on during evening martial arts lessons. It was open, presenting the wooden engawa, small cherry blossom petals falling in preparation for Winter littering the cracks.

"Emma managed to drag you outta the house, huh?"

The strange man asks with a smile, approaching you and Emma and being bold enough to pat you on the head. You close your eyes at the contact.

"Good job." The young man directs towards his sister, who grins pridefully.

"Hehe, thanks!"

You lift your head, the heavy hand still on your scalp. Your cheeks feel hot from the contact which the man refuses to take away. Still, you try to introduce yourself.

“I’m— I’m L/n Y/n.”

The man finally takes his hand off of you, gazing down at you with lazy lidded eyes and a Cheshire grin. He inhales from his cigarette and puffs the smoke out to the side, you try to keep yourself from coughing.

"Sano Shinichiro. Your mother had come over with pork gyoza the other day. Told me to take care of ya.”

You bind your hands together, awkwardly and unassumingly you murmur, "Oh. Okay. Yeah."

You put on a false ignorance about the three other boys in the yard. You stare one of them in the eye before looking sheepishly down at your feet again.

"Hey!" From across the grass, the boy with whom you shared eye contact yells. You tremble.

As he approaches the two of you, his voice is raucous and loud, as befits the situation. Suddenly drawn to the noise, you look in that direction and are astonished to see someone else appear between Shinichiro and you.

He extends a hand and says, "Baji Keisuke!"

At first, you're taken aback by how swiftly he decided to greet you and carried it out. He appeared to have acted without even pausing to consider, but you firmly believed otherwise. Keisuke, still in front of you, stretches out his hand. You can sense Shinichiro-san beaming broadly with amusement. You can't get out because everyone is already focused on you, so you dive in head first — despite not knowing how to swim — to make everyone feel comfortable.

You also extend your hand, accepting his, "L/n Y/n.”

Your way of speaking was a large juxtaposition of Keisuke's greeting. You accept his hand, and you are surprised to find it so warm against your own. Keisuke in turn, smiles at your willingness — at least you suspect so.

"Y/n, nice to meet ya!" Keisuke shouts, his toothy grin being so dazzling that it almost causes you to lose vision. You could probably work with the fact that this boy wore his emotions on his sleeve.

"Keisuke, you shouldn't say something to someone you just met."

From his seat next to Manjiro, a boy with a buzz cut in rose colour makes fun of his friend, clearly igniting Keisuke's boiling rage.

He turns his head, "Shuddap Haru!" his pupils engorged with venom.

While the two boys argue, you look at Emma apologetically.

“That’s Haruchiyo-kun, next to my brother, Manjiro. Or, we like to call him Mikey!” Emma gently explains to you, pointing at the short blond haired boy beside the taller one. Your eyes meet for a couple seconds, then you look away, anxiety pooling in your stomach.

When you hear the tell tale sounds of grass crunching underneath boots is when you pick your head up to notice an older man looking at you, then at Shinichiro. His taller frame gives you some relief from the sweltering heat, allowing your previously strained eyes to temporarily relax.

“She’s the new neighbour?”

He has a deep, slightly menacing voice. Shinichiro smiles and nods, and the stranger then turns to look at you.

As a sign of acknowledgement, he raises his head, saying, "Takeomi, Shinichiro's friend.”

You adjust the hem of your simple white t-shirt as you nod in agreement. You notice a girl looking at her from behind the man's legs, but as soon as she makes eye contact with you, the youngster runs away once more. You raise your hand to your cheek and begin to scrape the skin there.

Once more peeking her head out from beneath Takeomi's legs, the young girl now also catches Emma's eye. The blonde smiles at the girl while furrowing her brows.

"Senju!" Emma hollers and dashes behind Takeomi's knees to grab at the child's hand. She tugs the small girl from behind her brother, finally letting you catch a glimpse of her.

"This is our new neighbour, Y/n-chan!" Despite being only a few centimetres away from Senju's smaller frame, Emma explains fairly thunderously.

Senju's once-wary eyes seemed to flood with warmth the moment the blonde introduced the young girl to the unusual person who made her best friend Emma so happy.

"Hiya!" She exclaims, her hair bouncing with the sudden head nod.

"Hey-... Hi." The two girls round you and stare at you as if you were holding stars in your hands while you stammer. Baji stays by your side as well, and the sudden attention makes you perspire.

You're happy you chose to wear white for today.

"Are ya gonna play hide and seek with us?" Senju queries.

"Uh," You dare to cast your gaze in the direction of Manjiro and the boy Baji had dubbed Haru. You look back to the shorter girl in front of you out of shame as the two give you a direct stare. "I-I'm not sure."

At this, Emma and Senju whine, and just when you’re about to retaliate, you feel a heavy arm swing around your frame and rest on your shoulders.

"Come on, L/n," Keisuke drawls, emphasising your surname and darting his eyes towards Haruchiyo, "We need more players, 'sides, Haru doesn't even count 'cause I can catch him in a second."

Baji receives a direct blow to the forehead from a tiny rock that appears out of nowhere. The hit is so loud that you would have thought you could hear the wind current it briefly generated while being hurled. The thrower had some talent. After a brief squeeze from the shock on your shoulder, Baji's arm drops from your frame to support his hurting forehead.

"Ow!" When the youngster hollers, Haru is already glaring at him.

"Oops." Haru simply says, causing his partner with the dark hair to frown. He chuckles back and turns to look at Manjiro, who also appears to be smirking just a little.

"Join in the fun, Y/n-san!" Senju cries out while grabbing both of your hands.

You had no idea what in the world you did to attract the girl's attention. In truth, you were unaware of how you got here. The heat was really starting to affect you.

"Yeah! We need more girls!" Emma joins, capturing Senju's arms with her own two hands. You note how the three of you somewhat look like those barrel monkeys, all connected. You bite your inner cheek to suppress a smile.

Your eyes flicker from Baji's gaze to Senju and Emma before returning to Baji. You've run out of falsehoods to tell, and before you arrived here, you were fairly good at it. They were staring at you as you were burning from the sun's excessive brightness.

And that was exactly when it began.

"Fine. Okay, okay."

Emma and Senju both cheer, growing elated that their playing field was becoming more equal. Keisuke forms a toothy grin at the prospect of having one more person join their game, a new neighbour at that, nonetheless. Manjiro's gaze remains situated on the group, not bothering to move from his position, and Haruchiyo throws a glance his way.

Hot burns in your head. You hadn't planned on meeting four new individuals over the course of the weekend, three of whom were rather keen on welcoming you into their little circle. While Emma pulls on your arm, you allow your gaze to fall on her brother. While you weren't anticipating special treatment, he was the only one who paid you no attention. Sincerely, you believed that Keisuke, Senju, and Takeomi were more outgoing and curiously open than him. His response seemed reasonable and reassuring to you.

You hope Manjiro ignores you always.

"Who's gonna be the seeker?" Emma asks.

"Haru! 'Cause I caught him first the last time!" Keisuke states, which earns him a glare from the rose-haired boy.

"That works for me," Manjiro says in his first sentence since you got here. You would've liked dwelling in your shock a little while longer, but Haru instantly turns around, not before rolling his eyes, and covers them with his hands.

It all happens so fast. The two little girls beside you squeal with excitement, already starting to back away from the group. Keisuke sports a wild grin as well, mentally preparing his hiding spot. Manjiro leaps off of his rock to land right in front of you.

"How much do I count till'?!" Haru yells.

"Thirty!" Keisuke hollers, his voice distant.

You turn towards Emma and Senju, only to find that the girls have already disappeared. Baji was already running far too quickly for you to catch up, and suddenly you found that your cheeks were too hot under the sun. Your stomach churns in anxiety. It was like your feet were stuck to the ground.

Suddenly, a tug on your wrist snaps you out of your trance. Eyes widening, you’re forced to twist your body towards the intrusion, and your eyes meet with a mop of blonde hair. They travel downwards towards your hand to find it engulfed in his. You barely have time to spare Shinichiro and Takeomi a glance, but they watch with surprise as Manjiro drags you further away.

One moment, you are drowning in sunlight. The next, you’re overtaken in darkness, and a wooden door shuts behind you.

As your eyes adjust to the sudden shift in lighting, you find that you’re in a garden shed, and notice wall space between a shelf at which you decide to lean against.

It seems as though you were the only one out of breath, as the blond boy in front of you casually leans against the door. You have both come face-to-face now. It's intimate, not in the romantic way. It was quiet, the sound of the heat permeating through the wooden boards. Light floods in through the cracks, you can feel a little bit of the warmth on your cheeks. Playing with your thumbs, you do not dare look so freely towards Manjiro as he does to you. Your heart pounds against your ribcage from anxiety. You want to peel your skin off and take a dip in cold water to get rid of this feeling.

Finally, the culprit who caused you such emotions, is the one to put out your fire.

"You suck at hiding. You’ve never played hide an’ seek before?'' His voice is soft when he insults you so casually.

You lift your head to finally make eye contact with him. You can hear wind chimes in the distance. His eyes are clouded, like he was hiding a million secrets in them.

Furrowing your brow out of frustration, you look down at your feet, "I— I never wanted to play."

“Why’d ya say yes, then?”

His question makes heat rise in your chest. You look down, placing a cool hand on your face.

“I.. I dunno.”

The garden ornaments from outside send a pleasant tune to float in the atmosphere. A slight breeze bellows in from the cracks, You tried relaxing yourself by tilting your head upwards, closing your eyes. But your moment of peace is short-lived.

"You dropped this too."

At the sound of Manjiro's voice, you turn your head to him once more, only to notice a familiar red hair band you recall you tied your hair with this morning.

"Oh," your eyes twitch, something of a smile-perhaps formed out of anxiety-painting your features, "Uh…, ah — sorry."

Staring at the hair tie with eager eyes, you suspect the boy to give it back to you any time soon. But he simply stands there, holding it firmly in his hand. His eyebrows are slightly raised, and it almost looks like he is awaiting a statement to be said from you.

"Can I have it back?" You murmur.

You watch Manjiro rather intently. A resounding quietness befalls them. You note how it looked as though gears were moving behind his eyes, as though he was pondering on what to say next. Perhaps he was not as indecisive as you had first suspected him to be. Every move he made was a calculation he made in mere seconds — which made him all the more terrifying.

“Beg for it.”

You blink. Manjiro only smiles at your colourless expression.

“Don’tcha want it back?”

Your heart starts to race. You want to go home. You don’t like this. He’s smiling like it’s funny. You feel like crying sort of, because you know he is making a joke of you. But you don’t. Because Mama said big girls don’t cry.

“What? Lost your voice?” He mocks again.

You murmur something under your breath. He raises an eyebrow. You murmur it again, pinching your palm with four fingers to calm the panic in your chest. Manjiro crosses his arms, leaning back smugly.

“Hah? What? I can’t hear ya.”

You look up at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“You’re mean. I don’t like you.”

Manjiro blinks soundly. He doesn’t insult you, but he doesn’t give back your hair band. He simply stands there, staring at you. He seems to slump back at your insult. You think to yourself — has anyone spoken up against him?

He doesn’t say another word the entire time. The cicadas’ chirping fills the resounding silence.

You can hear the screams of Emma and Senju, no doubt Haruchiyo had discovered their hiding spot. When you can sense bodies from outside approaching the garden shed, Manjiro stands up straight and walks towards you. You, instinctually take one step back. You can’t be close to boys — especially not one like him.

He looks at you with an expression you cannot describe. It silences the beating of your heart.

"Here," Manjiro utters, grabbing your hand with one hand and manoeuvring it so that your palm opens — which he then places the hair tie on.

You are left staring at your open hand, confused at Manjiro's actions. He keeps your hand in his hold for exactly three more seconds, before releasing it. You keep your hand there for a few more moments, trying to register what exactly had just concurred.

A moment passes. Then another. And another. Manjiro scratches at the scab on his elbow, looking down at his sandals. You pretend you don't notice. You can’t really think, anymore.

Haruchiyo finds you both. He interrogates Manjiro on why he was hiding with you, to which the former tells him to shut up. Emma stares at you with bewilderment, which morphs into childish amusement at the prospect of her older brother taking a liking to you. She teases you, hooks her arms around yours and drags you back to their house.

You fiddle with the hair tie. Manjiro was weird. You wanted to go home.

You take a long, cold shower the following morning.

You were no longer children. You had lost all contact with your once friends, never having the gall to introduce yourself once more. Shinichiro-san had died from a car accident the same year your mother had passed — and neither of you had been the same since. Manjiro had grown rough and you had grown cold. You will never get those grievances back, and everyone had just expected one day for you to be alright with such a thing.

You liked to play pretend for their sake, be a small, nice little girl for their comfort — and ignore the incessant rock in your throat that had lodged itself there, stuck for fifteen years.

But with each passing season it only seemed to grow — to suffocate you more and more than the previous years.

You cry under the water with the stone.

Will it ever go away?

The next day, Manjiro begins the conversation. Perhaps it was because you had been acting like a shell of your former self since the aforementioned recalling of your adolescence. Maybe it was because of the cold weather. Regardless of the reason, it was during breakfast — over savoury bowls of tamago gohan — while you were seated across one another under the single kotatsu because that is all he could afford.

You feel like a stray cat he has taken in. The utter irony of it all.

You felt Manjiro’s eyes on you for ten minutes before he pointed his chopsticks at you disparagingly and spoke through a mouthful of warm rice and egg.

“You’re shaking.”

You huff at his audacity, gazing down at your bowl before bringing a bite of rice to your mouth, “Am I?”

Of course, he does not answer. Because he is Manjiro Sano who is nosy, loud and fastidious. He is Manjiro Sano who never finishes what he starts and leaves you to pick up the pieces. You never considered yourself particularly tough before encountering him.

Setting your half empty bowl down, you choose to question him.

“Why did you move to Osaka?”

Manjiro doesn’t answer. Rather, he turns his head to the open engawa, and pretends to care for the sakura petals that fall off the tree branch. You furrow your brow, setting your chopsticks down in your bowl.

“What about everyone else in Tokyo?” You inquire once more.

Thirty seconds pass. You wait, knowing an answer is going to come. The first shove was complimentary, the second prod was real — at least that was how it worked when Manjiro was 16.

“What about them?” He huffs, taking a sip of his morning beer, “They all know my address.”

You bite back a smile — afraid that if you were to show amusement he would only take it as a sign to continue dismissing your concerns. Manjiro had changed but his small little idiosyncrasies remained hidden. A selfish part of you is delighted at the notion that — despite your anxieties — you had truly not forgotten him.

“Don’t you ever feel…,” you bunch your hands together, “lonely?”

His next answer comes naturally. “Nah, think it’s ‘cause it’s new to me.”

“Right,” you shake your head, laughing, “ha— right, right.”

You look down at your bowl. Of course, what were you expecting? Manjiro was nothing like you. He was loud compared to your quiet. Captious to your carelessness. Unlike you who fretted over such illogical matters he would barely put any thought behind even those affairs which required them.

“Do you feel lonely?”

You lift your face up a tad too quickly and despairingly at his question. He’s looking at you with a blank slate of an expression, and it is in this moment you wish he would return to being unserious. You feel like you are in that very garden shed he’d hid you both in.

You force a laugh, “What? No— no. I—… no… No.”

An awkward silence descends upon you both yet again. The chirping of a little ringed plover fills the room. You think, or at least you try to with Manjiro staring daggers into your side profile. Wrapping the blanket he had given you tighter around your frame, you take a deep breath.

“What about… Keisuke and the others?” You ask, tentatively. His name sounds so odd on the tongue. You don’t think you have said it out loud for nine years now.

Manjiro huffs a chuckle, and you mellow.

“I visit him the first of every month. We all show up at his place,” he explains soundly, bending his left leg and wrapping his arms around it, “And his mother every two weeks. But she likes to be left alone.”

You stare at his hand that scratches at his foot. By Keisuke’s mother he most definitely meant her grave. The woman had always been an eccentric character in your childhood. She made the most delicious rice cakes and warabi mochi. You recall the memory with a solemn grin. She passed away two years ago. You hadn’t even known — only realised she was gone when Manjiro had told you nonchalantly in passing while you were preparing breakfast how much he misses her omurice.

You had burnt your index finger that day, and hid the mark from him.

A wind passes by into the house. The wind chimes sing a familiar tune, and you are surprised to notice that they are the very ones the Sanos had back in Tokyo.

You haven’t confronted yourself in a while. She scared you. Maybe confronting this monster inside will soothe this ache within you — you reason.

“I’d— I’d like to go. I’d like to visit them soon.”

Manjiro’s stare which was directed on his foot moves to meet your eyes. He looks at you for three seconds, scratching at his wrist. He stares at you in a way that silently asks you — ‘Are you sure?’ — and your gaze only hardens; with determination or fear, you can’t really choose.

Manjiro nods.

“Alright.”

He picks up your dishes and places them in the sink for you to wash. This is your routine.

You follow him to the kitchen, standing awkwardly behind the island as he looks at the plates he has put. His hands clench around the metal. He looks up at you once more.

“Alright, we will.”

You reach Shibuya at 9:26pm by car.

When you step out of the passenger seat and onto the road where Manjiro parked, the wind that greets you is warm, for November, at least.

An overwhelming wave of anxiety invades your stomach. Suddenly, the warm air does not help you. You feel like someone has set you on fire. Each step you take towards Keisuke’s home — a large house you have never even thought would belong to someone of his stature — your heart pounds erratically. Manjiro’s resounding footsteps following behind you only add to the reality of the situation. You want to go home. You should have never come.

A hand on your shoulder stops you in front of the door.

“You’re shaking,” Manjiro’s voice states the similar expression back in Osaka. You stare into his eyes, trying to ground yourself.

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” his eyebrows furrow in a mature sense of concern — it is so unlike his past self, “You know, you don’t have to meet them. I can tell them you got sick.”

Your mind manages to eat the information he is feeding you. Once it has consumed every morsel you shake your head. You wipe your clammy hands against your pants — you note how Manjiro’s eyes follow them wherever they go.

“No,” you breathe with a shaky tone, folding your arms across your chest, “No, I—I’m good.”

You shrug his hand from off your shoulder, taking a deep breath in. You haven’t been in this neighbourhood for nearly eleven years. It’s only natural that you are a bit nervous. Manjiro does not look quite convinced. You look behind your shoulder to find him, unmoving and unentertained. You leer into his hazel coloured eyes.

“I promise, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

You tell him for the final time, walking to the entrance of Keisuke’s surprisingly old-fashioned home.

You don’t even have to knock on the door, someone opens it for you from inside. You crane your head up to meet a pair of aquamarine eyes. A small smile traces itself onto your features.

Haruchiyo speaks before you can — he has always had the habit of doing that; taking the first step ahead in the riverbank you liked to explore together, the first bite of freshly sliced watermelon, and the first one to make fun of your mother’s death.

He stares at you like you never even left — like you were coming back from the grocery store.

“The hell happened to you?”

Your smile only grows. “Hi, Haru.”

Tiny pleasantries greet you, and — oddly — Haruchiyo’s arms do, as well. He is even taller than he was back in junior high school. His hair is longer and he still manages to stand out everywhere he travels. You can vaguely sense Manjiro entering from behind you — but you don’t have a lot of time to dwell in his presence. Not when Haruchiyo brings you to the living room. They are watching baseball, the kotatsu is out, stray chips and half empty beer cans litter the surface.

You have never felt more at home.

Keisuke and Ken lift their gazes from the television to you at the same time, when a home run is scored. You smile wearily, and they return it with a grin of their own.

“Y/n…” Keisuke is the first to speak, standing up and approaching your unassuming frame. He looks into your eyes for three seconds — an odd gesture, given that he never waited before — before enveloping you in a warm hug.

You grab his back almost too quickly. It only lasts five seconds but you feel the familiar heat in your stomach return — the one you had carried since ten years of age.

He asks how you have been. You murmur a solemn fine and compliment his home. He bashfully explains how Chifuyu had planned out the interior and exterior designs, and informs you of the fact that Kazutora is with him down in Hokkaido — getting supplies for their pet shop.

Keisuke is much more refined and mellow compared to his former self. His spontaneous nature and wild energy scared you at age ten, and treated you softly at sixteen — when the only boy whose presence did not scare you, was his. Even now, with a few grey strands in his hair, he is gentle and kind — offering you whiskey soda, somehow guessing your favourite drink after a decade apart.

Haruchiyo and Ken tease Manjiro in the kitchen. You overhear everything about him even when you do not want to — even as you are engaged in a conversation with your childhood friend.

“Oi, oi, Mikey. You cut your hair?”

“Ohh, he did, wouldja look at that.”

“Shut up.”

They return with more beer cans. Keisuke sits on the floor next to you on the couch. Ken’s eyes fall on your frame the same time your gaze falls on him.

“Hi.., Ryuguji,” your tone sounds sad. You didn’t mean for it to come out that way.

“Y/n…,” the widowed man returns your smile with one of his own, handing you a can of beer, “Please, call me Ken.”

You stare at it. You stare at him. You don’t know how he does it. The grief doesn’t line his face nor eyes the same way yours does — and it was fresh and new. It still stung and he deserved to feel upset. You did not, you had moved across the ocean and forgotten everyone because of yours — and yet it brought you back to square one, right on a sofa bed somewhere in Tokyo.

You put away your thoughts, locking them beside the incident in the garden shed many years ago. It could be dealt with later.

For now, you take the beer can from Ken’s hands with trembling fingers — praying he cannot tell you want to run.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Dinner is lovely. Warm pork ribs purchased from a local restaurant, spinach salad with sesame, sunomono, and many warm bowls of rice are shared amongst the five of you. You feel Manjiro’s gaze fall on you every so often — almost as if he was trying to assess and read your emotions, to be there to catch you when you fall. It feels odd, every time he looks your way. Every time he does, you clench your beer can tighter.

You do not know why he cares for you so. You are not going to give him what he wants. You can’t, right now.

After dinner, you step out of the golden lighting of the living area to the engawa that opens up to the small square area of greenery. American porch lights hang on the tall pillars holding up the structure of the house, and your eyes instantly fall on the small koi pond installation on the right of the green.

You vaguely hear Keisuke and Haruchiyo yell at each other from inside. You walk barefoot on the grass. You feel like an oversized child.

The creaking of the floor boards alerts you towards the open entrance. You turn as Ken approaches you. His lips are laid flat — and he pretends he doesn't even see you. You appreciate this about him. He’s never made you uncomfortable.

You think you should say something for both of your sakes. Spill the milk and clean it already.

So, you — the ever awkward — murmur softly towards the koi fish, “You’re all so… taller.. now.”

Ken huffs a laugh, standing next to you now. His shows are on, though.

“Maybe you just shrunk.” He jokes. You smile.

“Perhaps,” you respond, “I heard that the weather in New York does that to one.”

For a while, you both stand there. A congenial silence befalls on you both. The wind chimes play a foreign tune. The smell of whiskey, cigarettes and fried pork are carried with the wind. It feels the same way a full stomach does.

A couple moments later, Ken mutters to you, turning his head to gaze down, “You look lovely, tonight.”

You turn your head, too. Since he is now looking at you you suppose you should do the same. It is only customary, after all.

“Thank you… thank you.” You stutter, taking a good look at his features.

His five o'clock shadow is more prominent, only half of his being illuminated by the patio lights. The familiar dragon tattoo is as prominent as ever, but his hair is a dark black now. You wonder if Emma had anything to do with it. When you look at him, you start to think of her.

So you look back down at your feet. It hasn’t snowed in Tokyo yet. You are grateful it is not as cold.

“The weather here is great, though.”

Ken sighs, breathing in the night breeze, “Yeah...”

This time the silence is a little awkward, so you do not prolong it.

“Whose idea was it to install a koi pond and these patio lights?” You force a laugh, trying to make him smile again. It seems to work.

“Ah,” Ken brings a hand to the back of his head, scratching at his neck, “Sana had always wanted fish…, but Emma was allergic. So we had compromised to have them at Baji’s — so she could visit them.”

Your face pales a little at the mention of his daughter. You recall seeing pictures of her on Emma’s social media accounts. You had congratulated her briefly then went on about your day. Your mind had not even recalled her — how shitty of a person were you?

Ken breaks you out of your departure.

“I think the lights were Kazutora’s idea, though.”

You laugh at this, albeit an uncomfortable one. You knit your hands together. Maybe you should ask about her —he would not have brought it up if he did not want to.

“How is she?”

The koi fish in the pond move more rapidly as you pose the question, almost as though they felt the tension and wanted to relieve it. Ken pockets his hands and grins as he looks down at his reflection in the water, his eyes drifting from his, to yours.

“She’s doing alright. Left her at her friend’s house for a sleepover.”

You breathe a sigh of relief — one you did not realise you were holding. “That’s nice…”

You look around the scenery, trying to rack your mind for more conversation starters. You had not done this in a while — let alone consoling your once best-friend’s husband, who was now a widower. You were never really that close to Ken, you momentarily recall the few times you did interact; which happened to always be through Emma. You never quite had a problem with, you were happy for her — you truly were. Now that the one virgule connecting you both had gone, it was up to both of you to hang on to another. You wanted to be there —you knew Emma would have wanted that.

You don’t even realise the statement that leaves your mouth next is about her until it just slips out.

“She would’ve loved tonight.”

The dark-haired man only looks down, eyes solemn but a cheeky smirk plastered on his features. He chuckles, “She would’ve dragged me outta the house ‘cause I’d say no.”

You grab for his hand, noticing that the look in his eyes is all too similar to the one in yours.

“So why’d you say yes?”

Ken does not answer, but his fingers press deeper into your palm. Not enough to elicit blood — but it might as well have been.

“I— I don’t really know. I guess I thought it would make me feel better,” he laughs through a choke and you can only nod, knowing all too well how he feels. You don’t know how long you stand there, holding his hand in yours. A breeze you felt in Osaka bellows past you both.

Manjiro takes you back to his home, and you feel at peace — like you have done something right.

Osaka culture is dissimilar to Tokyo’s. Manjiro Sano is much different than The Invincible Mikey. But you were all the same.

A part of you thinks that is why the two of you attracted one another the way you did, many suns ago. Another irrational side of you believes that is why you have not been able to hold eye contact with Manjiro for longer than fifteen seconds since dinner at Keisuke’s home. You don’t know if you lack sexual appeal or if Manjiro’s libido has declined, but he has grown more… comfortable, around you, so to say; walking around with no shirt on and wearing sweatpants that hang too low on his waist.

To keep your mind occupied, you have taken on laundry duty.

You hum a tune to the melody your mama would sing to you sporadically throughout your adolescence, seated on the floor of Manjiro’s closet with his fresh laundry sprawled about the carpet.

Your phone rings. You take a look at it — it is an unknown caller. Craning an eyebrow, you finish folding the shirt you currently hold and pick it up.

“Hello?” You mutter into the speaker first.

The voice you hear makes your stomach drop. A heat begins to rise in your head.

“Y/n.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. You take your phone off from your ear, check to see if you are actually currently in a call with someone, and put it back.

“…Ryuchi?”

An all too familiar exasperated sigh leaves the caller’s mouth. That is when you realise your assumptions were correct: your ex-fiancé is real and true.

“Fuck— Y/n, shit.”

Ryuchi utters your name like it is a disease — like it hurts his tongue. It is why you cannot put the phone down — why you cannot hang up.

“You know the fucking things I had to…—” his voice becomes a whisper, like he is trying to hide that he is conversing with you from someone, “you know how difficult it was to get a hold of you?”

You place a hand on your ankle, scratching at the scab there — willing it to open, “Ryuchi, why… Why are you calling?”

He doesn’t speak for three seconds, and it terrifies you. He always did that — when he was angry with you. He would never want to communicate until his emotions would reach their precipice and even then, it would require several pushes from you to draw his reactions. As such, those nudges had always led to him shifting the blame on you.

You had learned to live with it. Mama lived with Papa that way, before he left. But she was not allowed to leave first. She would have to stay until he did not want her anymore — and you would do the same thing with Ryuchi. Be it a hole to fuck or in those very soft, sentimental moments, a woman for him to hold — you would give your everything. You didn’t care about his wealth, you didn’t care about yourself. Why would you? He was everything — he was your World, it was how he wanted it so you would give it to him and not think twice.

Then, Ryuchi starts.

“Wha— What the fuck are you talking about?” He laughs, it sounds scary, “You— where the hell are you? Why— Why the fuck did you cancel your lease?”

You chew on your bottom lip. You hate how soft your voice comes out when you ask him again, “Ryuchi, why are you calling?”

A scoff, followed by a, “Do I need a reason to be calling my fuckin’ fiancée — are you kidding me?” rings on the telephone, but all you hear after the word fiancée is white noise.

You remember it vividly. How he had broken things off. You remember him calling you to buzz him up to your new apartment, the one you wanted him to move in with since he was still living in a bachelor’s flat with his friends. You remember opening the door to his solemn face — and you had remembered knowing that it had ended before he told you himself: ‘This is not going to work. Not anymore. Not with you.’ How could you ever forget those words?

You hadn’t cried. You hadn’t even felt mad. You just thought about the papers you had wasted printing your engagement cards. You thought about what everyone would think of you — thought about how mama would be so upset with you for not giving your life and soul to his relationship.

You had heard her voice that day. It was cold.

After a moment, you murmur a flat, “What?” Your breathing begins to pick up, “I… I thought—”

You don’t say anything else. You don’t really know how to. Ryuchi was smarter than you — right? He could pick up the pieces and fix the puzzle.

He does.

“Holy shit—,” he chuckles darkly, his tone then becoming mocking and impassive, “You— you thought I was being serious?”

You don’t realise the words that leave your mouth and escape his.

“You— You asked for the ring back, Ryuchi, Your— Your mother returned the wedding card—.. What— What was I supposed to think?”

“Yeah— yeah—, Cause I was stressed, Y/n. Mother had some qualms with you and I let her get to me. But, I’ve dealt with her now — all for you. I fought for us. Fights like this happen all the time — that... that doesn’t mean you can just get up and walk away.”

They all sound spiteful. You hate arguing. You just wanted to be good. You didn’t want him to do all of this for your sake. You did not need much, you do not know why Ryuchi insisted against that for the longest of times.

He always called you too naive for your own good: but you know what love is.

It is why, after the longest pauses of utter silence taken so far within this phone call, is when you murmur quietly, “Ryuchi, I— I.. I can’t... I.. can’t do this.”

He is on you, instantly.

“What do you mean you can’t?” His voice cracks. You don’t know what to make of it. “I—I miss you. Please. I love you. I love you, baby. You.. you can’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please come back to me — I’ll make it work.”

He can’t. You know he can’t. He’s never needed you, Ryuchi has only ever wanted you in his life. You cannot go back now.

You stare down silently at your hands, fisting Manjiro’s shirt in your palms. The door of the closet is cracked open, streaming in the yellow lighting of the bedroom. It is oddly warm, given the circumstance you find yourself trapped in, unable to move.

When you feel darkness impose on that, you lift your head up. Manjiro stands there, gazing down at your frame. His eyes fall on your cell phone, then on the clothing you crumple.

“Y/n.” Manjiro calls your name. It is soft. His eyebrows are furrowed and you could mistake his worry for how tightly you are gripping his favourite shirt, enough to leave wrinkles.

“Y/n.. please.. don’t do this.” Ryuchi’s whines ring into the speaker. They settle in your ears. Before it would have elated a fire in your stomach, but now it sends a chill up your spine.

You are a bit tired of feeling cold.

“Don’t call me anymore.”

You hang up, stare at Manjiro for a moment, before exiting the closet with his shirt in hand.

You go to the bathroom, and you cry into it. Manjiro doesn’t ask for it back.

You wonder late at night why he is so soft to you.

You think Manjiro began feeling bad for you. He would not leave you alone since the day Ryuchi had called. He’s started to clean up after himself: figuratively and literally. Whereas prior he would leave dish washing duty and laundry to you, you found he would pick up groceries for the dishes you’d plan to make that day — and an expensive brand of detergent you had been eyeing but never had the gall to request.

His steps were small, but left their marks in the ground. You felt supported and seen.

So, the next time he went shopping, you asked him if you could kindly join him. He had told you that if you’d asked sooner, he would have taken you to Tempozan Harbor Village for a picnic.

You refused, saying that your fresh home cooking tasted much better — he hadn’t disagreed — and you ended up going to Tamade Supermarket on a Monday afternoon. The last time you went there you were fifteen and in love with him.

It is funny. How things change.

“I like this shelf,” he states, pointing at a random wooden shelf displayed in the show room.

You nod awkwardly, “It’s a nice shelf.”

It is also nice to be talking to Manjiro like an adult. Although at heart you felt as though you had stopped mentally ageing at 19, it felt good: the idea that he had caught up with you in terms of getting around your hobby of window shopping appliances you can only dream to afford. You do not even care if you are being too loud in the department store. Manjiro made a detour on the way to the supermarket. It feels nice to take up space with someone else. You did not get much interaction like this in your youth; most of your time spent with him was passionate and lustful. Taking things slow was a wonderful change of pace, something you realise your adolescent self would have appreciated though refuted against.

You ponder more about your relationship, admiring the bonsai trees in the garden supplies aisle.

“Didn’t you have a thing for flowers or some shit?” Manjiro asks, pushing the cart up behind you.

You look at him incredulously, with an eyebrow raised in question, “Botany?”

He clicks his tongue, placing his elbows on the cart’s pushing bar and leaning forward.

“Yeah, that.”

“Yeah, well,” you huff a laugh, playing with the leaves of the tree gently, “a bachelor’s in botany is about as useful as a glass hammer.”

“Oh, so it’s shit, then?” Manjro asks rather forwardly.

You snort, and try correcting him. The auntie who strolls past you both looks at you with disgust and Manjiro only makes an even uglier face that makes her run away. “It’d take a lot of time and money. Neither of which I have.”

“That’s why you went into software?”

You think for a second. You look at the flowers you had wanted to plant all over Tokyo as part of your dream adult career when you were 6. How stupid you were, then. It was nice, it had always been better, back then — when you did not know how to tie your shoes or write your name properly in kanji.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

A silence befalls you both. You stand still in the shelves section of this sequestered furniture department store.

“Guess I’m lucky Shin left his shop for me,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say as a response.

Manjiro looks at you. Then he reaches for the shelf, cradling it like it is an infant. Your eyes crinkle up in amusement.

“I’m gettin’ this shelf.”

“Alright,” you huff. “Can we go to the market now?”

He smiles back. You bend your four fingers into your palm when you feel your heart begin to develop a rhythmic thumping against your chest at his expression.

You were not 15.

“Sure.”

But you sure wanted to be.

The next week, Manjiro went to work — and you had taken a long, good look at yourself in the mirror; assessing the damage.

A wrinkle would come on your forehead when you would smile. Crinkles would form near your eyes and at the corners of your lips, too, if you got too excited. Your skin was transparent — showcasing all your emotions whether you wanted it to or not. Truthfully, you preferred it that way. You had hidden too much of yourself when you were young — for no reason. Perhaps out of fear or embarrassment of being seen — is what you could possibly surmise as some reasons. Your features had also hardened since then, odd, considering how much softer you had morphed.

All of your youth, you spent resenting yourself. Too afraid to even look at yourself, at times. But, you were normal. You were not a monster — a pleasant surprise.

As you were eyeing yourself, your eyes hand landed on a pair of scissors in a cylindrical cup on a shelf over the toilet. You had then looked at yourself once more, before grabbing the scissors.

Manjiro comes home in the evening with groceries in hand. A small ‘tadaima’ leaves his lips as he takes his shoes off in the genkan. You appear in the dimly lit hallway, a part of you missing. His eyes, already on you the moment your frame turned the corner, enlarged. You feel your chest tighten and the familiar coil in your stomach tangle.

“You cut your hair,” he breathes softly, like it was a secret.

You approach him. He comes close to you. You are standing taller than he is on the elevated flooring of his home. You smile, a delicate one. “He always preferred long, but I never did.”

A pregnant pause follows. That was the first time you had brought up Him ever since that encounter in the closet. At least voluntarily. You can see Manjiro’s chest deflate, almost as though he had been holding his breath for you to set him free, ever since that day. A part of you hurts at the notion that he still cared for you. Another, more selfish and attention-starved piece of you thrived.

The clock you purchase him ticks. Manjiro’s nose is red and his eyes are wet from the cold. You see him lift up his hand — it is shaking but you do not stop him or inform him of that.

He cups your cheek. His hands are cold against your warmth. He murmurs, softly and true, “You look nice.”

You look down, suddenly feeling like a teenager again.

“Thank—Thank you…”

Manjiro’s actions do not register in his mind until your discomposure. He looks at his hand like he has committed a crime and snatches it away. You are troubled by how much his disappearance bothers you.

“Sorry— I—.”

“It’s okay,” You cut him off halfway, giving him a tight-lipped smile. What were you thinking was going to happen? You grab the grocery bags he had set down and walk inside. “I’ll start dinner.”

It is not after dinner he touches you again. It is late in the night, when the moon has reached its high and the cicadas reach their crescendo. You are laid on the tatami, turned on your side and admiring the melting snow on the sakura trees outside. Your head lays on your left arm, the right one traces patterns into your own skin.

You feel someone behind you. You turn, and see Manjiro.

His gaze reads sorrowful. The rims of his eyes are red. Though he is shirtless and resembles a man, he looks like he is eighteen again when he cries like this, in front of you. It has only ever happened once, when you saw him like this. You had run into him, rather than the other way around — like this.

Manjiro had grown mad. You had grown scared. You were both so stupid and naive back then.

You sit up, your covers bunching at your waist as they fall. You call for him, your tone only but a whisper.

“Manjiro,” you call for him, the clouds finally parting, letting the moonlight flow into the quaint living room and paint his features.

You knew it was coming — it was only a matter of time. Heated stares shared across the too large kotatsu, limbs entangling underneath for ‘warmth’ — they were all a rouse.

A teardrop falls onto your face, as the last sakura petals of Spring shake off the tree branch outside, and meet their wilted brothers and sisters on the dull green of the grass.

“Y/n…” He speaks, ever so softly, as though afraid of breaking through your skin.

Manjiro sounds so sad. He bends onto his knees in front of you. You stare into his brown. A shiver runs down your spine, from both the cold and his close presence. You had realised you had been mentally awaiting for this to happen. It was only natural — like moths to a flame. Suddenly, the tatami mat beneath you is non-existent. You feel like you are floating — like you are in Mr. Nakamoto’s linear algebra classroom, about to receive your first kiss from the boy who’s ruffian behaviour scared you, before. Looking at him now — ten years after heartbreak and uprooting your life — only now you have realised his softness.

“Yes?” You whisper, knowing it was too late — but also knowing Manjiro would never care. It would never bother him like it would to you.

“Y/n,” his voice cracks, he places his hands around your frame, encompassing you everywhere. He calls for you again, his voice only a whisper — almost as though Manjiro were afraid that if he were to raise it any louder you would leave him once more, “Y/n.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, laying down as he begins to move over your frame and bring your covers up, “it’s alright.”

You take Manjiro into your arms; his sharp teeth at your neck, his warm hands feverishly running up the cold skin of your stomach under his shirt you wear, his blonde hair in your fingers, him, inside of you and you holding onto him for dear life — irrevocably — and he leans into them.

His introspection arrives the morning after he has laid with you — it comes gently and ordinarily. You would not have even known he was opening up to you, if not for the seldom look-aways and hiccups he’d let out every now and again. Metaphorical, of course. But they might as well have been real — it’s too easy for you to discern them.

It scares you, the idea of being a form of his recluse.

You wake up, and he is already staring at you. Your cheek rests on his bicep. His eyes form into crescent moons when you look at him. A warmth rises to your cheeks. You unconsciously hide your hands underneath the covers.

Some birds are chirping outside: for some reason they have not gone to warmer climates. Manjiro is still staring at you — like you are hiding something. You gaze at him, your lips lifting up at the side, unable to hide your amusement and giddiness for some reason. You feel like a small child in his arms; like an excited seventeen year old who had passed their driving test with his guidance. You feel like you were always meant to be here — next to him.

It feels nice. Which is why it confuses you when he asks.

“What?”

You hum. “Hm?”

“You’re hiding something,” he says.

“Huh? What?”

Manjiro grabs at your hands covered by the blanket. He finds the top and kneads it with his thumb. It sends a thumping to your chest.

He grins at you, curious, as he questions, “What’s in your hands?”

Your eyes widen, ever so slightly. Manjiro was always watching you. Usually attention would bother you. You hated explaining yourself. But his attention elicits a warmth in your stomach that sends the same pleasure as drinking a warm cup of coffee.

You think your cheeks are dark as you murmur, a small, “Nothing.”

Manjiro clutches your hands in his, smiling. “Then why do you keep hiding them like that?”

“Have I?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, rustling a little under the covers. The duvet falls to expose his bare stomach. Suddenly you grow hyper aware of the fact that you are both naked. You are even more shocked to find yourself not caring to know the whereabouts of your underwear.

“S’been driving me insane. Thinking you’ve stolen something of mine.”

You feel yourself smiling from one side. “If I had you wouldn’t have found out so easily.”

“Hn.”

You laugh a little at the tiny sound of hesitancy and distrust. Manjiro was so cute. You rustle under the covers, pressing your hands closer to your chest. You hold them together. They are cold against your breasts, and when you press them too hard to the bite and kiss marks left over your skin by the man you lay with, you feel yourself growing shy under his gaze.

“It’s… a habit,” you measly whisper, “I don’t know why.”

Manjiro places a hand on your cheek, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Yeah, you do.”

You sigh and look away. “It’s silly.”

Manjiro brings your face back down to look at him. He looks so serious. You don’t know whether to be flustered or afraid. Perhaps both.

“Tell me.”

You cast your gaze downwards. It was stupid.

“I— ah, you know,” you swallow, “Haruchiyo… used to tease how stubby my fingers were.” You explain, purposefully letting out the part he was involved in. Although you had lost the baby fat and were 29, you do not know why your brain chose to hold onto such an inane insult. You were barely 11 when you were told that. How come you do not remember the good things?

Manjiro looks at you with guilt. Your eyes widen. He remembers, too. You look down, again — feeling embarrassed for even bringing it up in the first place.

“I— uh— it’s whatever…, I also never liked my hands.”

He shakes his head, and rests his forehead in the crook of your neck and shoulder. You still.

“Shit,” he grunts, arms wrapping around your frame, “I’m a dumbass.”

You feel your heart jump. You don’t think it’s ever done that before. You like how rough Manjiro’s hands feel against your skin.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, reluctantly bringing a hand up to brush the back of his hair.

He slightly pulls away, looking into your eyes. You feel his feet brush your ankle.

“It’s not, though.” he says, “How could I—,” Manjiro stops himself midway.

He continues to look at you. You feel his eyes travel to your cheeks, the mark under your eye he gave you accidentally when you were 13 and taking turns jumping into a neighbourhood lake you stumbled upon (he had pushed you in because you were afraid — scraped your face against a rock — you had never seen him look so regretful and scared). You look at him — at the light stubble on his chin, the scars running on his cheeks, be it from his time as a delinquent in his youth or from motorcycle work at the shop he runs right now. You wonder where all the others came from while you were gone. You’d gotten up and left — right when you were getting to know each other. You have no one but yourself to blame, and yet he looks at you like you were a martyr who could do no wrong.

“God, I was a dumbass.” He rasps, sweet and true. He leans in closer. You lean in, too.

He holds you so gently, it makes it so easy to forget whatever you had been worried about before your reunion. Warm thumbs brush your cold cheeks — you feel small but you can burst through the seams from this warmth.

“How could I have not seen how beautiful you were?”

His lips brush yours and his voice is raspy smooth when he asks the rhetorical question. You blush and tilt back. Your eyes shift to the open engawa behind him, to Manjiro’s face. You lift your hands from underneath the covers, and place them on top of his.

“You like me.” You soundly state.

“Yeah,” Manjiro admits, “yeah I do. I like you very much. But you don’t need to worry. That’s something I have to deal with.”

His confession elicits something in you. Something that seemed to have been festering for a while, waiting to be awakened by only him. You feel safe. You do not want to run away. Manjiro knows exactly what to say.

The admission causes a silence to fall. You break it by opening your mouth and spewing nonsense, as you usually do.

“I… also used to make fun of you.”

Manjiro grins. You blush. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Used to misplace your things when you’d piss me off.” You say, staring up at him through your eyelashes. That was your rebellious phase. Albeit, that had only occurred once — you did not want Manjiro to feel alone in his guilt.

He laughs. You smile. It is that simple.

“That makes us both idiots, then.” He murmurs, leaning in closer. Your lips touch each other, and you are 15 again, in his arms.

“I guess so,” You whisper through a smile, and return it ten-fold — a warm mouth melting you away softly.

February arrives carrying a similar breeze. Snow is starting to melt and Manjiro’s garden is beginning to blossom. You make love in his living room, bedroom, and the shower — when he is busy. You also procured a part-time job at a local firm to finally have the money to purchase your own clothes, instead of lounging in Manjiro’s garments all the time. He leaves often in the afternoons, rarely in the mornings — but he always comes back to you in the evenings. You prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner — but this time an odd sense of romantic domesticity is involved in all of your gestures and being around him. Manjiro is clingy, you have come to find out. In his youth his affections were scarce — but so were yours. You were both scared, hiding your love from one another — maybe out of embarrassment, you presume? Now, he is older and so are you. Manjiro’s hands find themselves around you any and every time you are near him.

It is lovely.

Currently, it is 6:45pm. You are in his closet, arranging his clothes once more. Your eyes land on a box hidden away deep on the lowest level of his shelf. You crane an eyebrow. It has a feminine, intricate design of bellflowers etched into the wood. You note the initials K and E also carved on its top. You reach for it and open it. Your heart falls.

“Found anything interesting?” Manjiro’s voice pierces the silence.

You jump and look towards the door. Much like the day he found you speaking to Ryuchi, he is standing there in his work clothes. Your eyes fall on his face. He does not seem mad. If anything, he seems relieved — almost as though he had left this box out in the open for you to find.

“You’re home,” you breathe.

Manjiro drops the bag in his right hand. He enters the closet and closes the door behind him, sitting down on his knees close to you and placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. You make a noise between a choke and a grunt, but he only caresses your face.

“I’m home,” he whispers softly to you.

You look down at the box resting in your lap. Manjiro’s hands rest on yours, and guide you towards the lock to open it. You look up and gaze at him with uncertainty. He only nods.

“Open it. It’s meant for you.” He encourages, letting go of your hands.

You stare down at the box. Something in your mind tells you that you know it is yours. You open it, and it is true. Silent for a moment, you gaze down at the countless number of bottle caps — from soda and milk brands back in the day — and your stomach twists at how familiar they all look to you.

Then, you remember why that is.

“I can’t believe she still had this…” You murmur. You look up at Manjiro. He looks down into the box and rests a hand on your left one. It is only when he does that that you realise that you had been shaking.

“What is it?”

“Bottle caps,” you utter, breathlessly, “Emma and I… we—we’d buy each other drinks on Wednesdays. A midweek reward,” your voice starts to crack, “I—I’d put aside money from my tutoring job for it.”

The idea that for over a decade, the girl who you thought forgot about you — did not care for you or wonder about you — kept such an odd presence of your reminder in such a delicate box that you know meant a lot to her (the first present Ken has bought her when they started dating), makes you want to cry. You can’t though. Not with him around.

The walk-in closet suddenly feels too small. The tiniest of whimpers leaves your throat. Manjiro cups your cheek again, grounding you from the panic you feel.

“She always cared for you. But, that doesn’t mean she was mad. She was never mad.” He softly speaks.

You can’t say much to that. Emma is dead. She will not even know that you came back for her. You think Manjiro senses that, because he drops it. You set the box down and lean against the shelf, and he copies your actions. Your shoulders are touching. You look down into the box and decide that perhaps organising these bottle caps will make you feel better.

You start putting them into groups on the carpeted floor of the closet. You can feel Manjiro’s eyes on you. A couple of minutes pass just like this, the only sound being the occasional metal of the caps hitting each other and the rain hitting the windows from outside.

“Have you ever been in love?” Manjiro asks.

The question oddly does not take you aback. You reckon that he deserves to know. “I guess… I mean… I was engaged.”

Manjiro’s body stiffens beside you. You continue organising the bottle caps.

“His name was Ryuchi. He was friends with my old roommate's boyfriend.” you murmur, eyebrows furrowed as you recall your past, “I—I don’t even talk to any of them anymore.”

Looking towards Manjiro, you find him already staring at you. You note his hand formed into a fist, and look away.

“I think I liked his smile, so I gave it a try. His mother never liked me,” you laugh a little — not quite out of amusement, “He broke it off in my apartment after four years. A Sunday.”

“I’ll kill him,” Manjiro growls.

You turn your head to look at him and weakly smile. You place your hand over his fist, and it unfolds to grab at your fingers and intertwine them together.

“He’s… not in my life anymore. That’s that.”

“I am.” Manjiro reminds you softly with an accusatory tone of voice. It itself is so contradictory it makes you smile; makes your heart flutter.

You shift closer, so your elbows are touching. Your exposed thighs press up against his. “Yes, you are.”

“Were you upset?”

You move a little in your spot, sighing. “I mean, obviously.”

“Are you still upset?”

“I—I dunno.”

A weird part of you feels relieved, another part wants to murder him and another smaller part wants to die. But you do not say any of that to Manjiro. It feels too weird. The topic shifting from his dead sister to your deadbeat ex-fiancé feels too much.

“But enough about that,” you change the topic, tightening your hold around his hand, “What ‘bout you?”

“Yeah,” Manjiro admits, keeping eye contact with you and coming in even closer. “I have.”

“Oh,” your breath hitches, and you murmur a very awkward, “nice.”

Manjiro is close to your ear. You can feel him breathing down your neck. You shiver. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

He presses his forehead against yours, playing with a strand of your hair with his index finger and thumb.

“Y/n…”

He kisses you gently, laying you down softly against the carpet. Hot palms brush the bare skin of your stomach, kissing down your neck — leaving small little messages in their wake. A small mewl of defeat escapes your mouth, which he swallows all too easily— all too greedily. Manjiro is everywhere around you, all at once, shielding you from everything and anything in the small little closet of all his and your belongings. A shirt comes off, then your socks. Fists meet hair and you have never felt so alive despite the incessant biting at your skin and clashing of teeth.

I missed you. Each one seems to speak to you. Never leave me again. They beg.

But — something bigger leaves his mouth. Like a monster that had been hiding in your closet all along — hiding in the garden shed since that very day you met the bane of your existence — something you tried desperately avoiding. You start to cry but only clutch onto him harder, because you had always had a fondness for the ugly creatures in life.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

#fem reader #rapture #writing #manjiro sano x reader #mikey sano x reader #mikey x reader #manjiro x reader

359 notes · View notes

azurelyy · 2 years

Note

13. Smut prompt - “I desire you. I burn for you.” with - Kakashi plz 🥹💛

Yay - thank you for the request, Heather! I am so glad someone picked this prompt. I don’t know what’s happening, but I am kind of on a kick with the enemies to lovers thing lately... sorry lol. 🍋 Prompt: “I desire you. I burn for you.”

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: NSFW, enemies to lovers, fingering, squirting, modern AU, lawyer AU, reader is kind of mean to Kakashi, but he doesn’t mind in the end lol.

Never had you been so irritated in your entire life. The ticking of the clock was like a manic countdown, reminding you of how much work you hadn’t completed with each passing second. But honestly, how were you supposed to work when Kakashi Hatake was just down the hall, promotion-less, while you sat and basked in the glory of a new job title and salary bump? Sure, he was irritating, and yes, he had shown you up countless times before - but you weren’t a monster. He deserved this promotion just as much as you did, and you hated it.

For the past month, all you could think about was beating him to the finish line and taking the corner office in style. You thought of how delicious the look on his face would be when you offered your condolences and coyly stated, “Maybe next time, Hatake.” before you went out to get smashed with your friends.

But never did you imagine this feeling of pure… frustration. Sitting in your old office, working on reports that your new boss needed by next week, while Kakashi was just a few doors down, working on who knows what. It was not your intention to show off to him when you stayed late tonight, but as the other lights throughout the office slowly turned off, and the echoes of footsteps and laughter were muffled from the closing of the front door, you watched and waited. But Kakashi never left.

With a sigh, you rolled back from your computer desk and stretched your arms over your head. Silently, you walked towards the breakroom to fill up your water bottle as you pondered your next move. The truth was, you were getting nowhere on your assignment and this was a complete waste of your Friday night. There was no way you were getting anything done with-

“Hiya,” Kakashi hummed as he placed his empty coffee mug in the dishwasher. “Big first case?”

Your water bottle practically overflowed and you quickly jerked it from the dispenser, splashing small droplets to the floor as you grumbled, “Shit.”

“I’ll get it.” Kakashi was already ripping off a paper towel before you could protest and kneeling down to wipe away the spill, his spiked, silver hair a bit disheveled from the long work day.

“Thanks,” you sighed, leaning back against the fridge. “And no, no case. I’m running some reports for next week. I just wanted to get a head start on my work.”

“Always an overachiever.” Kakashi stated as he stood up and placed the paper towel into the garbage can, his grey dress pants melding into every delicious ripple of his muscular thighs. Kakashi was handsome, there was no denying it. It was the very first thing you ever noticed about him and the reason you swore to never converse with him for more than five minutes at a time. Being in meetings with him was like some fucked up form of torture, because you could never focus when he was around. One time, Ino actually had to pinch you just to rip your eyes off of him. But him being hot wasn’t the worst part, oh no.

The worst part was that he was hot and smart.

The rivalry started small, with Kakashi being assigned a big case over you even though he was a new attorney to the firm. The higher ups had assured you it was nothing to worry about and that he was simply a better fit for this clientele, but you didn’t care - from that moment on, Kakashi was your enemy. Your smoking hot, witty enemy.

Being enemies with Kakashi was easier than expected, if only because it provided you with a reason to avoid him at all costs. It was easy to dip out of the breakroom when he came to get his coffee. It was easy avoiding eye contact with him when you passed him in the hallway. Hell, it was even easy turning down his invites to get lunch with him. Everything was easy if it meant not developing actual feelings for him, which you knew would be the easiest thing you’d ever do. If you allowed it to happen, which you wouldn’t. Ever.

“I guess,” you responded coolly as you started walking back to your office. “Not everyone can show up to court ten minutes late and win the case because the judge has a crush on them, after all.”

“She does not have a crush on me,” Kakashi retaliated. “Did you ever think that maybe I’m just a decent lawyer?”

You spun around on your heel to face him. His steel grey eyes were intensely locked onto yours as he sauntered over to you, both hands firmly placed into his front pockets. You wanted to kiss - no - hit him. Yes, that’s it. Wanted to smack his smirk right off his gorgeous face.

“No.” You were shocked at the toxicity in your tone. Kakashi winced slightly and your heart sank to your stomach when he shook his head and brushed past you.

“By the way,” he said curtly, glancing at you from over his shoulder. “Congratulations. You really deserve it. I’m happy for you.”

The stillness in the air was muggy, clinging to your blouse that stuck to your skin. His footsteps crashed around you as he walked back to his office and you felt small - like an insignificant beetle. You cleared your throat and peered at him as you walked by his office. His shoulders were tense and he was chewing on his pen cap, clearly deep in thought. You stalled.

With a weary gaze, you watched him lean back and swivel around in his chair, and you wished you had an angle to see how his pants perfectly clung to his bulge. You’d seen it a few times before - completely by accident, of course - and it was big. A delight, even. Get a fucking grip, you thought, shaking your head as you started back towards your desk. You had to get out of here. Now.

“Need something?” Fuckfuckfuck. You froze and allowed the agony of the realization sink in - he’d caught you, red handed, watching him. No, worse - admiring him - full on gawking at him like some piece of art on display.

“No, sorry,” you mumbled. “Long day. I spaced out. I think I need to get out of here for some air.”

You peeked over at him through your hair to find him leering at you with a faint flicker of amusement. His mouth twitched upwards when your eyes connected to his and he pushed back from his desk and rolled his neck, reaching for his backpack.

“What are you doing?” You asked, like an idiot.

Kakashi’s smile was dripping with a coyness you had never seen from him. “I’m going to leave, too. I’ve barely gotten anything done.”

“R-Right,” you responded. “Makes sense.” Your legs weren’t moving, forcing you to instead look at the ceiling in an attempt at not undressing Kakashi with your eyes again.

“Oh, and I have that counter-offer you asked for,” Kakashi said. “I did manage to do something tonight, distraction be damned.”

Despite the warning signals shooting down your spine, you went to grab the papers from Kakashi. As your fingers grazed against his, a bolt of lighting crashed into your heart and the room started spinning around you just as the papers toppled from you and scattered to the floor. Kakashi laughed and rolled his eyes. He was saying something but you couldn’t hear him over the fluttering of blood rushing to your ears, and when he grabbed hold of your wrist, the moment stopped.

Calloused hands held onto your face as his fingers dug into the base of your scalp and tangled in your hair, angling you up to him. He was so close yet so far - reachable yet unattainable.

“Are you okay?” He sounded rigid, stressed. You blinked and stared at his lips.

“Huh?” You asked, trailing up to his caring eyes. The pressure of his hands on your face felt nice and warm. You tentatively leaned forward and realized you were gripping onto his button-up. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Kakashi whispered, tightening his grip on you. “You dropped the papers and then started wobbling. You need to stop skipping lunch. Sit down.”

“No!” It came out shrill and needy, and you desperately wanted to evaporate into dust. “I mean, I’m fine.” Heat rose to your cheeks and you instinctively looked down as you fumbled with his shirt buttons. You could feel the tension in the air circle you like a hungry pack of wolves.

“At least let me get you a granola bar or something.” He sighed, and his breath smelled like green apples. His hands loosened, but before he could drop them, something gave you the nerve to squeeze his shirt. Neither of you moved.

“Kakashi?” Nervously, you flicked your eyes back to his. Instant regret. He leered over you with a focused gaze, his hands now seething against your skin. He angled your face to him with intensity, staring at you straight-to-center. You had no room for doubts, or bashfulness, or even second-guessing. There was only room for him.

“I don’t think you’ve ever called me by my first name before,” he laughed, his breath crisp. “I like it.”

“I think I’m alright now,” you murmured as he rested his forehead against yours. “You can let me go.” You leaned closer to him as the lie toppled from your lips like a leadened ball, heavily dropping from your lungs to the carpet.

“I can,” he agreed, angling his head lower, ghosting his lips over yours. “But why would I do that?”

“What is happening?” You managed to sputter, trying to pull away, but his hands locked you in place. Kakashi’s face was gentle and soft, his dark eyes flickering between yours and your mouth. “I- I thought we hated each other.”

“No,” he corrected, and his voice was husky. “You hate me. But I…” His fingers twitched against your scalp and he pulled you forward, skating his lips over yours. “I desire you. I burn for you.”

Without hesitation, you pushed your lips to his. Frantically, hungrily. Your grip on his shirt tightened and you moaned into his mouth as his tongue swirled against your teeth, drinking you in. Your hands moved to his hair as you pushed him back to sit on the desk, climbing over him and stinging your knees on the wood. The little air in your lungs was of no concern to you as you desperately unzipped his pants, his arousal aggressively poking into your stomach as you kissed your way down his chiseled jawline. An explosion of lust erupted in your chest when he squeezed your ass and groaned when you nipped at the skin of his neck.

His groan was devilish and delightful, rippling through the air like a tidal wave. His thumb grazed over your hip bone as you moved lower, licking to the shell of his ear and gyrating your hips against his erection. His cock caught onto your clit and a seething fury of lust twisted round your heart like poison ivy, squeezing your soul until it leaked onto your panties from between your thighs.

“For the record,” you huffed as Kakashi growled something about fucking you while sliding a hand between your thighs. “I don’t hate you.”

“Good to know.” He pushed the soaked through cotton of your panties to the side, skating his slender fingers over your slick folds. His sharp teeth sank into the skin of your shoulder as he pushed two fingers deeply into where you were the most wet, shooting a kaleidoscope of colors through the dark of your vision as you tightly shut your eyes and spewed out curses. His fingers fit perfectly inside of you, stretching you in the best way, and suddenly Kakashi was no longer your enemy; he was inevitable.

Blazing desire rushed to your pussy as Kakashi arced his fingers, tantalizing you with each slow drag as he brought his knuckles inside you. You wiggled your hips and grinded down on his hand as you gripped his hair, groaning his name loudly into the dimly lit office. His thumb traced circles over the hood of your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh,” Kakashi hummed when you threw your head back. “You like it here, huh?”

You bit your lip and nodded harshly, gyrating needily into his big hand, seeking a release. Kakashi laughed huskily, rumbling his entire chest, as you whined and thrashed above him. He grabbed your ass and pushed his nimble fingers deeper into your core as his thumb ran back and forth along your clit in a perfected pattern, as though he’d been with you for years and knew exactly how to move to get you wound up.

It was only his fingers, but the pleasure was heavenly. You needed more - you needed his cock, fully sucked inside of your soaked through cunt. Kakashi’s eyes gleamed with a hazy mischievousness as his free hand rolled up your spine and gripped the back of your neck, pushing you forward into a kiss that sparked up the darkest parts of your mind. The smell of sex lingered in the air of his small office, the only sounds that bounced off the walls that of your heavy breathing and the squelching of his fingers thrusting in you. It was beyond erotic - something that would put the most practiced of prostitutes to shame.

Kakashi’s hand ran down the length of your spine as you pulled back from his reddened lips with a delicious pop to watch his soaked fingers sink in and out of you. His rhythm was slow, almost mesmerizing. You fell forward with a sigh as you rested your head in the crook of his neck while he continued his devilish dance inside your walls. There was an intense pressure building in your stomach, and when Kakashi groaned a low “fuck” and increased his pace, rubbing incessantly at your puffy clit, you nearly cracked. Your nails dug into his muscular shoulders and your thighs trembled as you let out a whine that would put porn stars to shame.

“Ka-Kakashi, if you keep going, I’ll-”

“Just do it,” he rasped. “Come all over me. Make a mess.”

Your scream came out in fractured fragments, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, as your walls clenched around his fingers and you bit down on his earlobe. Kakashi praised you through the intense explosion of pleasure that erupted within your stomach and you gushed onto his fingers. You made a noise akin to a sob as hot liquid slid down your thighs and soaked through his pants.

Kakashi’s lips found your jaw and then the side of your mouth, burning along the skin of your face until your mouths forged together and his fingers slowed their ministrations against your sopping cunt. He painted your thighs with your slick as he kissed you down from your high, and for a moment, the world turned upside down.

“That was really…” You trailed off when Kakashi’s stormy eyes locked onto yours, sinking you in a monsoon of extreme adoration. You cleared your throat as you pulled back and ran your hands down his chest, stopping right at the bulky bulge in his pants. He grabbed your wrists and shook his head, smiling at you.

“Trust me, I want nothing more than to fuck you senseless. But you skipped lunch and I want to take you out on a proper date first.” He brought your hand up to kiss the pads of your fingers and that gorgeous smirk was back - the smirk you used to loathe, that used to drive you insane, was now your kryptonite.

Caving, you pouted and rolled your eyes at him. He only laughed and helped you off the desk with a quick peck to your cheek as he turned for the door.

“I’m going to clean up this mess and then I’m taking you out to dinner. Where do you want to go?” Kakashi glanced back at you over his shoulder.

You rocked back on your feet for a second, pondering, before looping your arm through his. “After we eat, can we go back to your place?” He nodded and kissed your forehead.

You smirked and pulled back, leaning against the door frame. “If that’s the case, then something fast. Taco Bell?”

“You can’t be serious,” he chuckled, resting his hand on the wall next to your head. You narrowed your eyes viciously. “Oh, you are serious.”

“I am very serious,” you said with a grin, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Besides,” you grazed your lips against his and sighed as the smell of his rich cologne hypnotized you. “We didn’t even get to the fun part.”

“I disagree,” he said, trailing his tongue over your bottom lip. “I had a lot of fun.”

His teeth pulled on your lip and you took the opportunity to kiss him, letting yourself fully sink into his spell. He was the bane of your existence, and also, now, the only thing holding you together. Never had you been more irritated in your entire life - you almost wanted to put yourself on trial - because you had actually fallen, quickly and without hesitation, for Kakashi Hatake.

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cannedapricot · 1 year

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midnight bus. || hrj

in which as much as renjun denies ever caring about you, he can't help but notice the twitch in your eye when you receive your test marks, the smile that doesn't seem to quite reach your eyes when praised by your principal, and the lack of smart remarks when he scores a single point higher. something was wrong, and it was driving him insane. alternatively, two kids ponder about their futures on a late night bus ride because neither of them can drive.

word count: 2.7k

genre, warnings: angst (?), slice of life, some fluff, comfort (?), academic rivals to lovers, high school!au, neighbor!au, teenage uncertainties uttered and lost between tall buildings and lights, profanities, trespassing

bgm: ghost city tokyo by ayase, overdose by natori, cinema by vivid bad squad, you're on your own kid by taylor swift

a/n: i just finished reading this book of mine and i am in absolute shambles.

Renjun's eyes narrow, squinting at you across the hall. He could clearly see the principal congratulating you on the debate club's latest win, yet, you weren't puffing your chest out in pride like usual.

If this was any normal day in the past five years of your unnamed war for valedictorian, you would've thanked the principal and skipped right up to Renjun with a smug smirk on your face. If this was any normal day he would've rolled his eyes at you and told you that "arguing for climate change isn't a useful skill".

Evidently, this wasn't a normal day. Something's off. You bid goodbye to the principal and shuffle right past Renjun. No snide comment, no shit eating grin, nothing to acknowledge him.

Now, Renjun would much rather jump off a ten meter platform than admit to care for you, but weeks pass by and your usual spark never returned. It wasn't like he needed your attention or anything.

But it was driving him nuts.

Grade 6. 11 years old. Renjun meets you for the first time. You showed up to the first day of class in bright yellow suspenders, it was hard not to notice you. Renjun thought the two of you would make great friends. After all, his surname did mean yellow.

He changed his mind after you scored higher than him in math. No one scored higher than him in math. He would've let it slide if it were just math, but you had scored higher in everything except art. To top it off, when he made the off comment about it you said,

"Oh, it's not like it was hard."

And from that day on, he decided that you were his biggest rival and his life goal would be to knock you off your high perch.

Somewhere along the line, you had caught onto Renjun's hostility towards you. It was so amusing watching him get ticked off at your smug comments, how could you stop making them? So you decided that your life goal would be to never let Renjun know peace.

This rivalry, of course, bled into high school and where the two of you stood in present time. Senior year, AP classes, volunteer work, college entrance preparation, the future.

Oh, the future.

"Y/n, can we get a friend discount?"

"No."

A sigh escapes your mouth. Friday night, 8pm. Family-run diner packed to the brim with teenagers celebrating their football win against the school across town. Clad in the retro diner uniform your mom insisted on, you glide across the floor back behind the counter to yell whatever the table of jocks ordered to the kitchen.

"Busy night huh?"

You rest your head on your mom's shoulder, a habit you've had since childhood.

"Sometimes I wish our diner was less popular."

"Now that wouldn't be great for business," Your mom laughs in response to your childish grumble. "You'll learn to enjoy it once you take over."

The family business that's been passed down for decades. The future that's been decided for you before you were even conceived. You've known that your whole life, yet, for some reason, you weren't sure about it.

Your response should've been much more enthusiastic. But all you could manage was a quiet "I know" before turning to bring the cheerleaders their curly fries.

Renjun thinks he's finally lost it. What other explanation could there be to him staring across the fence from his bedroom window to yours. Your light was on, so you were home. But from the shadows moving around he could tell you weren't at your desk preparing for class like usual.

Renjun thinks he's finally gone bonkers. What other explanation could there be to his inability to focus on his four page essay for AP literature. He was usually good at cranking out fancy words and analysis. But for some reason, he found his mind somewhere else.

Renjun thinks he's finally gone deranged. What other explanation could there be to him climbing out his window (his parents could never know), jumping the fence, and standing under yours. A few well aimed twig throws at your glass was enough for you to stick your head out in confusion.

"Renjun what the hell?"

"Come out. We're going for a ride."

So you begrudgingly close your window and look for a coat to wear over your pajamas.

And for the record, Renjun isn't a stalker. Just a neighbor.

"You know, when you said "we're going for a ride", I kind of thought you meant in a car? As in, car ride?"

"And risk my life for you? No way. We're taking the bus."

11:45pm. You were following Renjun as he sped walked through the quiet residential neighborhood. The two of you passed multiple bus stops along the way but none of them had buses running at this hour.

"Just say you can't drive." You scoff, trying to keep up with the boy in front.

"Well, neither can you. With your brains, I thought you would've breezed the driving test."

"Touché."

The bus arrived at 12am sharp. The bus stop was a fifteen minute walk away from your houses and the two of you barely got on, eyes squinted at the sudden neon lights of the bus interior. The bus driver, a woman in her late forties you presume, audibly clicks her tongue at the sight of you both. You don't blame her, you would probably do the same if you were still working at midnight.

You find a seat in the back half of the bus as to give the lady some peace (though she chooses to put on headphones anyway). Renjun sits in the seat on the other side, though the seats were made for two and there was definitely no one sitting next to you. An awkward silence fills the air as the bus heaves into motion, taking the two of you somewhere unknown.

It was kind of relaxing, you thought. Watching streetlamps pass by in a flash, hearing the faint tune of ABBA songs leaking through the driver's headphones, feeling the bus rumble underneath your body. It was almost like you were running away.

"So... What's up with you," Your neighbor awkwardly begins. "I noticed you weren't really yourself lately."

"Aw, does somebody care about me?"

Renjun never thought that hearing the familiar mocking tone that was the bane of his existence would be so comforting. You were still there. You hadn't changed.

"In your dreams." He hides his smile in his palm and keeps his eyes on the scenery passing by, "Unfortunate for me, living next door to you makes me notice things I don't care for."

His eyes slowly move to check on you when you don't say anything. You sat back in your seat, a long hum as a response.

"I don't know."

"The fuck you mean you don't know-"

"Do you ever feel unsure of the future?"

Renjun's sharp retort was cut short. He was caught off guard by your question. You refuse to look at him, making sure your head was turned to face the glass.

"My family expects me to do one thing but maybe... that's not what I want to do, y'know?"

Honestly, you don't know what's possessed you. Why were you spilling your feelings out to your sworn rival? What if he uses this as blackmail or something?

"I get it."

That's all he says. No mockery in his voice, no teasing to be seen. You look over to find Renjun looking at you with a soft gaze. As if you were something extremely precious to him. So you can't help but reveal more to the boy looking at you so gently.

"The world is so big and I'm not sure if being tied down to the family diner is something I want. Like, I know I'll be disappointing my parents but I don't think that's the future I want."

"Then don't."

"Wow! You're so smart! Why didn't I think of that?" You reply sarcastically. You shouldn't be grinning. But you couldn't help it.

"Thanks. I'm the future valedictorian." Renjun smirks, turning his eyes back outside.

"As if. That's my title."

You continue whining about your parents expectations and plans for you and the diner after college. It was a lot but Renjun didn't once complain. He just sat on the other side of the bus, listening.

A weight had been lifted off your heart. Who knew you could be such a whiner? The conversation dims down as the warm colored streetlamps turn into fluorescent ones. You notice the buildings turn into grey skyscrapers and the bus was suddenly making its way into the bustling city.

You turn your head in awe at the sights. Truth be told, you don't make many trips into town, always too busy in your little suburb with whatever activity to add onto your college application. Which is why you almost miss Renjun's words.

"I want to go to art school."

It was a quiet murmur. Nearly drowned out by the bus engine and the honks of city cars.

"I thought your dream was med school?" You weren't poking fun, you genuinely thought Renjun was aiming to be a doctor. Your entire grade did. He scoffs.

"That's my parents' dream. They want the entire family to be in the medical field. It doesn't matter what we want." Renjun's eyes are facing the window, yet, they weren't focused on anything at all.

"Well, I think you'd do great in art school. You're always great at anything artsy." You admit, fidgeting with your coat. He raises his eyebrow and looks at you.

"You noticed?"

"It's hard to miss when you make the best pieces in the whole school. And I remember "Singin' in the Rain" in middle school. You're extremely talented at singing too."

Renjun can't help the smile that blooms on his face.

"You remember."

"Uh, yeah? You literally had a standing ovation."

Renjun never thought you would remember or pay attention to any of that about him. For some strange reason, his heart skipped a beat and he turns back to the window to hide his reddening cheeks.

"Last stop. Get off."

The bus driver said, promptly leaving the second the two of you step off.

"Why is the last stop at a seven eleven?"

"That is kind of weird. Do you think she just kicked us off because she got tired of our bitching?"

You both giggle before stepping into the convenience store. The cashier spares an uninterested glance, then returns the attention back to his phone.

Weaving in and out of the aisles and nearly slipping on some unknown liquid on the tile, Renjun picks out a packet of Haribo bears while you fill a cup of big gulp, nose scrunching up upon touching the sticky machine. Upon exiting the store and leaving the uninterested cashier behind, Renjun tells you he knows a place the two of you could go to share your goods.

"Though we're going to have to break some rules getting there. Think you're up for that, top student?"

"Why of course, second top student."

You had no idea breaking some rules entailed sneaking past the sleeping security guard and jumping over some barriers in a paid car park building. How did Renjun even know this?

"Isn't this illegal?"

"Only if we get caught." Renjun winks, "and I know for a fact they don't check the cameras regularly."

Renjun holds out his hand for support. You take it and jump off a small ledge. You admit, it was exhilarating. And was your heart beating because of the adrenaline, or was it Renjun's hand that he didn't pull away, even after you landed.

"We're here."

Renjun opens the door and reveals the rooftop parking lot. The air was cold against your flushed face and the empty space seven floors up made you feel like you were floating amongst the grey jungle. You run out, stretching your arms before lying on your back, not caring about how dirty the ground was. You felt free.

"I don't want to make 9pm coffees for the book club ladies for the rest of my life!" You yell into the open air.

Your partner in crime (literally) laughs before joining you on the cold concrete.

"Well, well. Look how far the top student has fallen. How would the principal feel knowing you've trespassed."

You roll your eyes, a stupid smile etched on your face. Placing down your icy drink, you turn your body to face the boy.

"I could say the same about you. Aren't you runner up for valedictorian? After me, of course."

"Actually, I'm number one contender." He responds, turning to mirror your position.

Oh.

The two of you were closer than expected. Lying on a dirty parking lot floor, noses almost touching.

Oh.

His eyes flit down to your lips.

You cough awkwardly before sitting up, red in the face.

"Do you want to try some of my drink?"

"Yeah, okay."

He silently sips on the drink. Though it was cold, it couldn't calm his burning ears down.

A few hours pass. The two of you spent that time stargazing, talking about whatever on your minds, and exchanging shy touches.

"Do you believe in aliens?"

"Uh, yeah I do. Space is massive - I doubt humans are the only intelligent life form out there."

Except all good things must come to an end. Come 3am, the two of you tread back to the seven eleven, hoping a bus would be there to take you home.

"Do you think the guy's still at the register?"

"Probably. I snuck a look at his phone earlier. I think he's been caught cheating."

The pair of you snicker and a bus rolls up. The doors open to reveal the same driver you had coming over.

"Lovebirds on their way home now, eh?"

"What? We're- we're not-"

"Oh give up. I've seen enough of you to know what's going on. Are you two getting on or not."

With matching red faces, you and Renjun board the bus. Except this time, he sits next to you, not on the other side.

"You're awful at drawing." Renjun laughs. Your attempt at drawing him on cold window cries a little, the condensation dripping where you touched it.

"Yeah, well. There's a reason you're always top of art."

He smiles, reaching past you to draw his version of you. It looked much better than whatever you drew and you were never the one to let him win. So you destroyed both drawings with one swipe of your palm.

"Sore loser."

"Cry about it."

Arm in arm, you walked home together at the same pace. Renjun slowing down so he'd match your comfortable speed. You'd never thought you would ever leave the house, spend time with your rival, only to come back with some weird tension between the two of you.

Renjun sends you to your doorstep and you turn to him.

"Thanks for cheering me up. It really helped."

"Don't worry about it. I also ended up getting stuff off my chest too."

Then he cracks the cutest smile and you couldn't stop yourself.

You kissed him.

On the cheek. You weren't ready for the lip on lip thing just yet.

"I'll see you Monday then." You hurriedly mutter, rushing inside to hide your embarrassment and to avoid seeing his reaction.

"Yeah. Monday." Renjun whispers into the night, a soft smile on his face.

EPILOUGE

"Renjun, you've got to start cleaning up your paint pots."

Your boyfriend looks up from his easel, eyes sparkling realizing it was you.

"You're home early!"

It was a couple of years later. Renjun was perusing his art career after having a thorough talk with his family (it took a few months), which explained the apartment-studio thing going on.

You came clean to yours about not wanting to take over the diner. Though you expected them to look at you in disappointment, they didn't. All they said was that they were proud of you for dreaming.

And now, you were sharing an apartment with the love of your life (who was currently covered in paint), once rival (you are now also covered in paint. He gave you a massive hug and a welcome home kiss).

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silverofthunder · 26 days

Text

☆ (the beauty of) your world ☆

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader

summary: With a smile on your lips, you just listened to him, enjoyed how his voice seemed to reach somewhere deep and touch you in a way you couldn’t quite explain. It was truly beautiful and you could swear that if you hadn’t already fallen for Copia it had certainly happened now, right in this moment.

content: 2.8k words, mystery (kind of), drama, fantasy, romance, fluff, SFW (i think?)

♡♡ part 1 ♡♡ part 2 ♡♡ part 3 ♡♡

Fourth part already, wow! Now I have finally started to plan this story so it might help keeping this all together - hopefully, at least. This is my fave part so far, it was so easy to write this. Enjoy!

The time seemed to pass way too slowly as it usually did on Fridays. You had checked the clock too many times and picked your phone up several times to scroll social media so you could have something to do when there were no customers to be seen. However, there wasn’t much to see in social media apps – only a few posts about weekend plans or cute photos of pets and then only random recommended, boring stuff that you just ignored.

You leaned against the counter with sigh and locked the phone, putting it aside and let then your gaze to take in the shop. It didn’t take long before a sound of buzzing got your attention and you picked your phone back up, seeing the notification of a new message arrived hovering on the screen. Your heart made a happy jump in your chest as you saw Copia to be the sender and quickly you unlocked the phone, opening the message.

Meet me by the abandoned church at 10 pm. - C

Smile rose to your lips instantly, excitement hopping up several levels within you. Your curiosity was aroused, too, so you had to reply and ask what that was about. It didn’t take long before Copia replied with ”you’ll see it, then” and a winking emoji. You let out a light chuckle, mind already starting to ponder all the options of what would await for you. The abandoned church itself was a cool sight to see and you had done your exploration there a few times but surely there was going to be something more.

”Whoever got you smiling like that must be a special one.” Your co-worker’s, Olivia’s, voice broke you out of your thoughts and you quickly unlocked your phone, turning your head to see Olivia looking at you with amusement.

”Yeah, he is,” you admitted and Olivia seemed to study you closely.

”It’s fairly new thing, isn’t it?”

”Yes,” you answered briefly as you really didn’t want to share much about your personal life. Olivia was nice and all but you wouldn’t exactly call her your friend.

”If he is a good one, please, tell me where did you find him? I’ve gotten so sick and tired of the assholes who just disappear after one meeting or who don’t know how to treat a woman respectfully,” Olivia said and you could almost sense her frustration.

She had talked about her… acquaintances several times and it seemed that she had been really unlucky with guys but you really couldn’t indentify with her situation. You had never looked for anyone, you had enjoyed your single life until Copia had just appeared in your life.

”Maybe you should just stop looking for someone,” you suggested, shrugging and then grinning. ”Worked for me, at least.”

Olivia didn’t look impressed, her one brow rising up.

”So I should just wait and see if I happen to run into someone in one day and then he magically falls in love with me?”

You chuckled, nodding. ”Yes. It honestly can happen.”

”I doubt it,” Olivia stated, though now there was a small smile tucking at the corners of her mouth. ”How did you meet your guy, by the way?”

You grinned, shaking your head.

”Trust me, you don’t want to know that.”

Olivia looked like she wanted to ask more but you shook your head again and she got the message. You weren’t going to tell her more. Not now, at least.

You were a bit late as you had taken too much time figuring out what to wear for the evening. Eventually you had settled for a button up shirt and some loose-fitting trousers with a long, warm coat, scarf and your favorite mittens. Copia was already waiting for you, leaning against the handrails in front of the church, a guitar case on the stairs by his feet.

”Sorry, I’m a bit late,” you apologized, smiling at him as you climbed a few stairs up.

”Don’t worry, I have all the time in the world,” he said, pushing himself off the handrails and taking a hold of your hand and leaning in to kiss your cheek.

”What’s that for?” you had to ask, pointing the guitar case. ”I didn’t knew you play a guitar.”

”I didn’t play for a long time but I felt it would be nice to do that for a special occasion.”

”And this is that special occasion?”

”Yes,” Copia said, smile wide, and picked up the case, still holding your other hand. ”Let’s go.”

You let Copia lead you away from the stairs, taking then turn to right and head behind the church. It was kind of hard to see when there were no working lights around on your path but you trusted that Copia, or vampires in general, had a good night vision. You tried your best at not to trip on any branches of bushes or anything else that grew or were on the ground as you walked forward and realized that maybe your choice of trousers and coat wasn’t the best.

Copia took you all the way to the back of the church and then continued forward where there seemed to be some smaller building. You walked past that, and then you could see another, a bigger building rising before you. Copia stopped by the metallic staircase and motioned you to go first.

”Is this safe?” you asked, eyeing the stairs suspiciously.

”Yes,” Copia said softly, gently patting your back and urging you forward.

You started climbing, the metal under your feet giving a small noises with every step. It was kind of unnerving but knowing that Copia was there with you, made you feel safer. With Copia’s instructions you climbed until you reached the roof and when you turned to look at towards the church, the sight that greeted you was so pretty. You could see the city spread out before you in all its night glory, the lights shining in different shades near and far, the moon casting its light above you.

”Wow,” you said in awe. ”I had no idea that you can see the city from here.”

”Well, now you know,” Copia said, stepping beside you and putting the guitar case down. ”This is one of my favorite places, I have spent so many nights here.”

”I can see why.”

You took a glance at Copia, seeing him looking at you with a soft, happy expression.

”What?” you asked, now properly turning to Copia.

”I thought that if I ever found someone… special I would bring them here,” Copia spoke softly, a dreamy smile on his lips. ”This is a part of my world – the quiet, oftentimes lonely nights. But seeing all this made me feel less lonely, no matter how odd it sounds.”

Something tugged at your heartstrings and you instinctively moved closer to Copia and wrapped your arms around him to comfort him. He relaxed into the embrace and for a while you just stood there, in silence.

”So this is a date, then?” you eventually broke the silence, pulling slightly back so that you could look at Copia.

”Sí, obviously.”

You smiled, moving your hand and giving him a light, playful shove to the upper arm.

”Such a romantic,” you teased, making Copia laugh, a proper, deep laugh this time. You loved the sound of it, your smile only growing wider. It always felt good when you made him laugh.

”Always have been,” he said, maybe half-jokingly, then leaning in and placing a kiss on your forehead. ”Now, sit down and get ready for some guitar tunes.”

You didn’t have to be told twice so you sat down, eager to hear Copia playing. While you waited Copia to take his time for getting ready, you let your gaze admire the night lights, and hoped that you had taken your notebook and pen with you. It wasn’t typical for you to leave home without them but this time you had thought that you would rather enjoy the moment as it was, without any distraction.

”Here,” Copia soon said, your gaze falling to the worn-out notebook he was handing to you. ”There’s some pieces of lyrics I’ve written.”

Surprised you took the notebook, examining the cover. There seemed to be some symbol on it, like it was embedded on it but due to darkness and wear and tear you couldn’t make out exactly what it was. Just as you hesitantly opened the notebook, Copia played the first chords, and you removed your other mitten and took your phone out of your pocket, putting the flashlight on and pointing it towards the page. Words were written in black ink, handwriting looking pretty and for a moment you just admired it.

Copia was now playing properly, the soft, slow melody filling your ears and you started to read the words. The longer you read and the more you listened Copia’s playing, it felt like the words on the pages and the melody matched well sometimes. Whether it was intentional or just a coincidence, it was beautiful nonetheless. Then you closed your eyes, for a moment just focusing on the sound of the guitar, letting the music paint a picture in your head. Sadness, longing, hope.

It didn’t take a long before you were caught off guard by a low, sweet voice. You opened your eyes, turning to look at Copia completely in awe. You had had no idea that he could also sing but it certainly was a nice surprise. With a smile on your lips, you just listened to him, enjoyed how his voice seemed to reach somewhere deep and touch you in a way you couldn’t quite explain. It was truly beautiful and you could swear that if you hadn’t already fallen for Copia it had certainly happened now, right in this moment.

When Copia eventually stopped singing and played the last chords, you put your phone and Copia’s notebook down and plunged then forward to smash you lips against his. Copia let out a surprised noise, then melting into the kiss, his other hand cupping your cheek. You balanced yourself by leaning against Copia’s shoulders with your hands as your mouths explored one another slowly. There were so many things you hoped you could say but didn’t have words for so you had to try to convey them all through the kiss.

Way too soon air became needed for you so reluctantly you pulled away, searching for Copia’s gaze, your heart beating faster inside your chest.

”That was amazing,” you breathed out, knowing it was quite an understatement but right now you had no better words to offer. Copia grinned.

”I’m glad you liked it.”

”Liked it? I loved it!” you stated emphatically. ”You really have a beautiful voice and the lyrics… Wow, I’m impressed.”

Now Copia was basically beaming and you couldn’t help but lean to place a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. It made him chuckle and you felt the sound of it in your heart, the warmth spreading all over you.

”You definitely need to play and sing more,” you said smiling. ”Have you ever played for the audience?”

Copia nodded. ”Si, but it’s been decades since the last time. For some reason I lost a bit of the spark to do that even tough it was fun. But I think that tonight I might have gotten a part of that spark back.”

The way Copia’s eyes shined even in the darkness of the night, made you feel so happy.

”Are you implying that I inspired you to pick up the guitar and start singing again?”

Copia flashed you a crooked smile, raising his other brow.

”Well, you’re an artist yourself, so you probably understand how the inspiration works.”

You nodded, lifting your hand up to caress Copia’s cheek.

”Oh, I know that very well.”

Copia leaned against your touch, smiling sweetly, and you were so glad that he chose this night to spread out his heart and show more of himself. This was a perfect date, if you were honest. While you would have been completely fine with the basic movie or dinner date, this seemed more… you and Copia if that made sense. You weren’t even sure how dinner date would even work with a vampire.

”What’s going on in that sweet head of yours?” Copia interrupted your train of thoughts and you shook your head.

”It’s silly…” you started, lowering your gaze. ”I was just thinking how perfect this date has been. And I was wondering how it would have worked if we had had a dinner date instead.”

Copia moved his hand under you chin, gently making you to look at him.

You hummed, running your fingers along Copia’s cheeks, stopping right upon his upper lip. Copia’s lips parted slightly and you could see the fangs coming out, a wind-like movement passing you before settling into a warm vibration around you.

”That’s not silly,” he spoke softly. ”I’m happy that this has been a great date for you and I have also enjoyed this so much. And what comes for the dinner date… Well, I can eat human food but it doesn’t do much, you know. It would have been a bit weird for me but I would have managed it, of course. But it didn’t feel right for us so I wanted to do this.”

”With you I feel more like a human,” Copia said quietly, caressing your chin with his thumb. ”But I also hate these vampire aspects less.”

Smiling, you leaned closer to Copia’s face, watching closely how his other eye changed its color to red, how his nose twitched and you felt that odd satisfaction deep down as you knew that your scent was causing that. Naturally you had to close the gap between you, capture Copia’s lips in a kiss again, your mouths easily finding a perfect, slow rhythm. The night was cool and his lips felt cold against yours but you felt so warm within. It wasn’t a full, blazing fire but something more gentle, lingering – like a fluffy blanket wrapped around you. You hoped you never would have to let go of that feeling.

With a fluttering heart you pulled then back, smile matching to Copia’s as your gazes met. There was so much to see in those beautiful mismatched eyes, whole books of stories, remnants of the long life lived and you were already so lost in the vastness of it, the world you were now the highlight of.

The next thing seemed to happen in a blink of an eye and you found yourself to be pinned down against the cold surface of the roof, guitar now resting on the side and Copia hovering above you, his gaze taking in the sight of you. Gently he took a hold of you hand, pulling the mitten away and bringing your wrist close to his lips, then placing a light kiss on it, making you shudder.

”Could you feed off from me?” you asked, feeling how Copia tensed for a moment.

”Now?” he asked, confused, and you nodded, surprising yourself a bit by that.

”Yes, if you want to.”

Copia stared at you as if he was looking for any signs that could tell you weren’t actually serious. Then he inhaled deeply your scent, your wrist still close to his lips and you could see how tempting your offer had been. Then he shook his head, placing another kiss to your wrist.

”As much I would like to do that, now’s not the right moment,” he said, letting go of your hand, leaning closer and cupping you face. ”I’m not ready for that yet.”

You felt slight disappointment tying its knot within you but this wasn’t all about you or what you wanted. You didn’t want to drive Copia away by being too eager or persistent.

”It’s okay,” you said, offering Copia a reassuring smile. ”I can wait.”

A half-smile passed Copia’s lips as he run his fingers along the side of your face.

”It would hurt no matter how careful I would be. Until the venom kicks in, at least.”

”It can’t be that bad, right?” you sighed, and Copia made a face at that.

”Well, it doesn’t hurt as much as turning into a vampire but it still hurts.”

You pondered his words for a while, trying to imagine different kind of pain levels but of course you couldn’t grasp the reality as you had no idea how it would be. The idea of him biting you, feeding off from you, was still intriguing and you weren’t going to take back your offer.

”Okay, enough of this serious talk…” you said, changing the subject. ”Could we leave now? It’s getting a bit cold.”

Copia was instantly on his feet, extending his hand to you, his usual warm smile returning to his lips.

”Sure, I’ll walk you home.”

taglist: @nijiru

#papa emeritus iv x reader #copia x reader #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #jen writes fics

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bodyswappertransforming · 25 days

Text

Sullivans. One week.

Title: **A Week in Your Shoes**

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On a chilly Friday evening in the back of Sullivan's, a time-worn bar that has seen better days, two men struck up a conversation that would change their lives. The first, Jack Sullivan, a rugged 55-year-old bar owner whose life was etched into the lines of his face, had known little beyond the confines of his working-class neighborhood. The second, Ethan Carter, a 29-year-old tech entrepreneur, lived a life of sleek offices and high-profile social events, a stark contrast to the backdrop of Jack's daily grind.

As the night wore on and the bar emptied, the differences in their lives became fodder for a deeper discussion. Jack, with his calloused hands clasping a beer, couldn't help but express a wistful curiosity about Ethan's glamorous life. Ethan, swirling a glass of expensive whiskey, admitted to yearning for the simplicity and authenticity of a life like Jack's.

"In another life, maybe we could swap places, just for a bit," Ethan mused, his tone half-serious.

"Yeah, just to see what it's like," Jack agreed, chuckling at the thought.

When the bar’s old clock chimed midnight, a mysterious shift filled the air, though neither noticed as they said their goodbyes.

The following morning, Jack awoke in a spacious, sunlit bedroom high above the city, his new body feeling unnaturally light and spry. A glance in the mirror confirmed the impossible: he was in Ethan's body. Simultaneously, Ethan opened his eyes in Jack's modest bedroom, feeling the weight of a more physically demanding life in his bones, staring back at Jack's reflection.

For the next five days, each man walked a mile—or many—in the other's shoes. Jack reveled in the luxury and speed of Ethan’s world, attending meetings where decisions worth millions were made with the flick of a pen, and sampling a social life more dazzling than he ever imagined. Yet, he found himself overwhelmed by the isolation that came with such a lifestyle, missing the genuine connections formed over a simple beer.

Ethan, meanwhile, discovered a new appreciation for the tangible rewards of physical labor, learning the ins and outs of running a bar, fixing what was broken, and cherishing the honest conversations with patrons. The slower pace and lesser stakes brought him an unexpected peace, though the physical exertion was more than he had anticipated.

On the fifth day, as they continued living lives so drastically different from their own, the initial thrill of the new experiences began to give way to a deeper contemplation of what it truly meant to walk in another man's shoes. Each man lay in his borrowed bed that night, pondering the lessons learned and wondering what the final days might bring. As dawn approached, the question of whether they would—or even should—return to their own lives hung in the air, unanswered.

On the sixth day, the role reversal deepened. Jack, living as Ethan, was invited to an exclusive event in a private lounge known for its prestigious clientele. As he mingled among the city's elite, he was introduced to the refined world of cigar smoking—an indulgence he never had the means to enjoy as himself. With each puff, he felt a new kind of camaraderie and exclusivity that was starkly different from the open, boisterous atmosphere of his bar. The smooth, rich aroma of the cigar seemed to symbolize the opulence of his temporary life, leaving him intoxicated with the luxury that now enveloped him.

Meanwhile, Ethan, experiencing Jack's simpler existence, found himself in the back room of Sullivan’s late that evening, sorting through old stock. Among the dusty bottles, he discovered a vintage box of cigars that Jack had once received as a gift but never opened. On a whim, accompanied by a regular who knew his way around a good smoke, Ethan lit one. The earthy, deep notes of the cigar, combined with the laughter and stories shared over the bar, offered a stark contrast to the more reserved enjoyment he had observed among the upper echelons of society. This humble pleasure rooted in tradition and genuine connection deeply resonated with him, further endearing Jack's life to his heart.

As the week neared its end, the contrast between their experiences with cigars perfectly encapsulated their broader journey. Jack was swept up in the allure of a life where every luxury was at his fingertips, finding in each new indulgence a reason to perhaps never go back. Ethan, on the other hand, felt a grounding pull towards the simple joys and the unpretentious authenticity of Jack’s world, which brought an unexpected contentment that his own life lacked.

With just one day left before their agreed meeting to discuss their experiences and potentially reverse the mysterious swap, both men faced a profound internal debate. Jack relished the escape from his aging body and the fresh opportunities of youth, while Ethan cherished the newfound peace away from his high-stress environment.

As they lay in their respective beds that night, each puffing on a cigar, the smoke swirling around them seemed like the mingling of their two very different lives. Would they choose to swap back to their original lives, or had this taste of another existence changed their desires forever? The decision loomed over them, shrouded in smoke and uncertainty, leaving their fate tantalizingly open-ended.

#mental change #bodyswap #fantasy #male transformation #personality change #male body swap #male tf

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salmonskinrolltf · 2 years

Text

Con-fidence

A story commissioned by @tf-vigilante

THURSDAY

Gerald undid his tie the second his apartment door slammed shut, throwing it angrily to the hardwood floor. By the time he reached his bedroom, the remainder of his work suit was strewn across various flat surfaces in disheveled heaps. Not comfortable being shirtless even in his own home, he threw on a henley tee and screamed into his hands.

How could Greg have gotten that promotion instead of him? He’d worked his ass off for months! He stayed late almost every night! He’d canceled what few dates he’d been able to snag with guys on Tinder! All because Greg was more of a “go-getter” than him? What the fuck did that even mean? Sure he was handsome and walked into every room like he owned it, but since when did that translate to being good at your job? Gerald deserved that job and he was too shy to even fight for it. He had just rolled over and watched his boss shake Greg’s hand through the glass wall of his corner office.

He groaned, hot tears stinging his eyes. When were things going to turn around for him? He thought he’d finally figured it out. But no, the world was telling him once again that he wasn’t enough. Too shy, too spineless, too weak.

“I wish I was more confident and intimidating,” he muttered. “Then they’d finally respect me.”

His work phone pinged. As mad as he was, he couldn’t help but check the email that had just come in. He had trained himself to give his body and soul to this job, and that couldn’t change in an hour. His shallow breathing slowed as he read the subject line: “MAKE YOUR WISH A REALITY.”

The email was from an unknown contact, which shouldn’t even be possible on his office’s internal servers. The body of the email was even stranger:

YOUR WISH CAN COME TRUE, BUT WISHES COMES WITH A PRICE. FOR GREATER CONFIDENCE, RID YOURSELF OF EVERY ITEM OF CLOTHING YOU OWN. INTIMIDATION MAGIC REQUIRES FUEL FOR A FRESH START. DO NOT WORRY. NEW CLOTHES WILL COME WITH YOUR NEW LIFE.

Gerald couldn’t believe what he was reading, but he was desperate and anger-drunk enough to try anything. His sobs slowly clearing, he dumped every item from his closet and hamper into a huge garbage bag, along with the strewn clothes from his dramatic entrance, and dumped it down the apartment’s trash chute, which was thankfully located in an alcove right across from his apartment. When he got back inside, he realized that what he was still wearing probably counted too.

He gave a deep sigh, wrapped himself a towel, undressed, and tossed the remaining clothes down the chute as well.

“Here goes nothing,” he grumbled through gritted teeth. “When you wake up in the morning and feel like an idiot, Gerald, you can always call in sick and have Rochelle bring you fresh clothes from Mom and Dad’s house.”

FRIDAY

Gerald didn’t have to call Rochelle. He woke up to his 6AM alarm and immediately noticed a pile of clothes at the foot of his bed: tight jeans, a grey tee, boots, a leather jacket, and even a silver necklace. They didn’t look anything like what Gerald normally wore, or what was considered appropriate workplace attire. But at least the email was correct in that he didn’t have to worry about suddenly becoming a nudist overnight.

But if the email was telling the truth and really offered him an opportunity to harness some sort of magic force, why didn’t he feel any different? He pondered the problem as he put on the clothes. The last thing he put on was the necklace, and the sound of the clasp clicking together seemed to reverberate through his skull. Gerald held his hands over his ringing ears, but that only made things worse. He began to feel dizzy, and he stumbled backward, accidentally knocking his head against the ceiling fan, which was thankfully turned off. He fell on his ass onto the throw rug in his bedroom.

Wait… that shouldn’t have happened. Gerald was only 5’8”, and while the ceiling fan was probably lower than was safe for an apartment, he’d never even come close to hitting his head on it. Rubbing the back of his skull, which thrummed with pain, he stood up. It took longer than it used to. He had to dart to the side to avoid hitting his head again when he was fully upright. What the fuck? He ran into the bathroom to see that he was now… what was that, oh god, about 6’5”?

He felt a strange buzz coursing through his body and he panicked, disrobing entirely to prevent anything else weird from happening to him. But when he stared at himself naked in the mirror, his mind-boggling height was still the same. And was it just his imagination, or did he seem more toned all over? And his dick, while still soft, seemed a little plumper, a little thicker. His jaw was just a little bit firmer, and - for some reason, this was the weirdest part to him - his hair was shorter. Still curly, but it clung higher to his forehead.

He ran a hand through it, the tight curls springing back into position. That’s when he realized. He hadn’t given half a second’s thought to the fact that he was naked. Usually he’d be too embarrassed to be completely nude anywhere but the shower, but he just… didn’t care. In fact, he felt great. Not that anyone could see him, but if they did, why shouldn’t they enjoy themselves?

Fuck… he felt hot. And what’s more, he knew he was hot! He felt a surge of confidence warm his now slightly broader chest, and realized he couldn’t wait to get to work today. He threw his clothes back on and flew out the door.

As he arrived at the office, coffee in hand, Gerald felt all eyes on him. While normally this would send a blush burning through his cheeks, he reveled in it today. As soon as he sat down at his desk, Greg poked his head around the cubicle wall, his face plastered with a faux-sincere frown.

“It’ll be a bummer not getting to work right next to you anymore after I move to my new office,” Greg said, voice dripping with malice.

Gerald didn’t say anything. Not because he was too shy, but because he had an idea. He stood up, walked to the door, and dropped the half-full coffee cup into the trash can, purposely missing so the coffee spilled all over Greg’s white suede shoes. “Oops.”

He walked into his boss Jim’s office without knocking. “Sir, you need to reconsider Greg’s promotion.”

Jim looked up from his computer and squinted at Gerald. “And why is that?”

“You and I both know he’s charming and that gets him far, but he is incompetent when it comes to leading a team. You know that group presentation we gave last week? It went off without a hitch because of my work. He just sat with his thumb up his ass and took all the credit.”

Jim furrowed his brow. “And why didn’t you come to me with this last week?”

Gerald shrugged. “I’m coming to you now. I’m asking you to reconsider. Take until Tuesday, and if I can’t prove to you I’m a better choice for the promotion, then feel free to give it to Greg.”

Jim looked flabbergasted, but somewhat impressed. “Well… We’re not sending in the paperwork until Tuesday anyway. If you can prove to me you’re the right fit by then, then I’ll seriously reconsider. But I’d better not see you wearing leather in the office again, I don’t care if it’s casual Friday. This is a workplace, not a biker bar.”

Gerald smirked. “Thank you, sir. Understood. Just a small problem with my laundry service today.”

The rest of the work day went great. He closed deal after deal with clients, doing better in a single day than he had in the previous month. He decided he’d come in on Sunday to get a little extra work done and really show Jim just how much he was capable of that Greg wasn’t.

He rode high on a buzz of confidence all day until it came time for bed. He realized his closet was still empty, so he’d probably have to wear the same clothes tomorrow. Oh well. He shrugged. It was the weekend. He could go pick up new threads in the morning if he had to.

SATURDAY

He didn’t have to. When he woke up, the clothes he’d left in a pile on his bedroom floor had vanished, replaced by a new, neatly folded pile at the foot of his bed. He guessed this might be how things would work every morning from now on. He didn’t mind. No more laundry! This time, all he had was a tank top, gym shorts, socks, and sneakers. He figured this was meant to be his casual weekend look.

The second the last stitch of clothing hit his body, the scrape of fabric seemed to ripple across his body, sending deeper and deeper reverberations into his very core. Instantly, he felt the tank top begin to strain against his body like it had started to shrink. But no, he was growing. Abs pushed out of his stomach while his chest jutted out and out, becoming a firm shelf of pecs. But the place where the feeling felt most concentrated was his arms, which looked swollen, as if they had been stung by bees. The new mass packed itself tightly around his bones, seemingly shrink-wrapping into striated muscle. Then his arms swelled again and cut into tightened cords of muscle again. And again. This process repeated three more times until his arms were positively bulging out of his sleeves.

“Shiiiiiiiit, man,” he whispered in awe. “I’m fucking JACKED!”

Gerald’s original plan was to spend the day prepping for the extra work he would be putting in on Sunday, but he decided to go to the gym instead and watch his new arms in action.

Every time he saw his new bulging arms in the mirror, he’d get hard and palm his crotch. The time flew by so fast, the sun had set by the time he got back to his apartment. He settled into bed, his newly huge arms behind his head, ready for the next day. As he drifted off to sleep, he decided that if he didn’t earn that promotion fair and square, maybe he could just intimidate Greg into giving it up. He didn’t have to actually hit him, he could just suggest that he might… He was confident that would work.

SUNDAY

Gerald was used to the routine by now. He woke up naked, and gazed down at his muscular body in delight for several minutes before even thinking to look at the new pile of clothes that had arrived. He wanted to get back to the gym today, but he knew he should get that work done first. Shoving his success in Greg’s face was the most important thing, and the gym was open 24 hours, so he could always hit it up afterward.

Today’s fit somehow felt even more casual than the last. A large T-shirt and ripped jeans. He slid into them smoothly, enjoying the power he felt in his arms as they moved. He could rip these clothes in half if he wanted to, without a second thought. He found a wristband in the jeans pocket and put it on, sending another rumble through his body.

Forget his arms, now everything was swelling and cutting, swelling and cutting. By the time he was done, his pecs looked like the prow of a ship, cutting through the air in front of him. He examined himself in the mirror, nothing once again with wonder how his hair seemed flatter and less curly than it used to be. But he was more invested in staring at his new pouty lips and firm, square jaw. Fuck, was this shit going to happen every day? He hoped so. Maybe he could take micro-naps to spur the process along. What a fucking beast!

He walked over to the foot of the bed to slip on the sandals that the magic had also provided, which is when he noticed that his bed frame was missing. What the fuck? His bedroom now boasted only a mattress sitting directly on the floor. Come to think of it, all his furniture was looking a little jacked. His nice oak coffee table was now a shitty IKEA model, and his framed art print had been replaced by a The Fast and the Furious poster scotch taped to the wall.

Seeing how different his apartment had become lit a small flare of anger in the pit of his stomach. The magic was making him a fucking beast, but it couldn’t take away his rad lifestyle. He had wanted this confidence so he could work better and pay for all the cool shit he wanted to do! A thought wriggled into the back of his mind that he could always just take the fancy shit he wanted instead of working for it, but he pushed it away and headed out the door. Whatever. If this is what the magic wanted to do, he would make sure he got that promotion and just buy all his old shit back. He knew he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. He was fucking confident about it.

When Gerald got to the office, he noticed that Jim was in his office, sipping coffee and typing on his computer. Figuring some face time would prove to the big boss that he had come in after hours and show how dedicated he was, he knocked on the door, the sound coming out a little louder and rougher than he’d meant to. He wasn’t used to his own strength.

Jim opened the door and turned pale, looking up into Gerald’s newly broad, heavy-lidded face. He squinted. “Sorry, I didn’t order anything. You must have the wrong office.”

Gerald shook his head. “No, I know I look different, but it’s me, Gerald. I’ve just been working out more. I wanted to-“

Jim shook his head. “I don’t know a Gerald. Like I said, wrong office.”

Gerald felt the flare in his chest become a roaring fire. “Look fucker, I came in today to prove to YOU what a good fucking worker I am, so stop pretending you don’t know shit about me!”

Jim backed into his office and pushed a button on his phone, muttering “Cindy, call security.”

“Fuck this, man, I’m outta here!” Gerald bellowed. It took eight hours at the gym to fully calm down from his encounter, but he was so exhausted when he got home he thankfully slept like a rock, the adrenaline ebbing from his massive frame.

MONDAY

Gerald groaned as he scrubbed his hands over his face. What was he going to do today? Was he out of a job? Why hadn’t Jim remembered him?

Without even checking what they were, he dejectedly threw on the clothes that were lying at the foot of his bed. He scratched at his head, not noticing that the brown locks were receding back into his scalp, fading to a bleached blonde that looked like it had been improperly applied out of a bottle.

Black ink swirled down his right arm in a full sleeve of tats that spread from his elbow to his wrist, while various other tattoos bloomed into life on his left arm, his back, and his thigh. He felt a sharp pain in his chin as a cleft was dented into it, and a scratchy growth of stubble burst forth from his cheeks.

He strained to remember what he had just been thinking about. Jim something. The gym? No, he couldn’t hit up the gym yet today, he had that job interview at the construction site. He was pissed that his gig at the movie theater had fallen through (who knew giving away free candy to hot girls wasn’t kosher?) and this was what it had come to. That was a cushy job! He hadn’t had to do shit! He could just collect his check and live at the gym all day. You gotta do what you gotta do, though.

His foot tapped while he sat in the waiting room as the interviewer finished up with another candidate.

He figured the interview went well! He turned on the charm and was sure he’d impressed the dude with his deadlift stats. He was sure he’d passed with flying colors, so he’d get to do that follow-up interview with the foreman, Albert Macias. Whoop-dee-doo.

He gave the construction office the finger as he headed out to the gym. At the bar afterward, he tried to use the credit card he’d swiped from an open bag in the locker room, but it was declined. When he angrily told the bartender to run it again, a burly dude had stepped in and asked him to take a breath and step outside. This turned that fire of rage into a full-on inferno.

“I’m sick of people telling me what to do, shitbrick,” he growled. He shoved the man, sending him toppling over the bar and sending several glasses shattering to the floor. As the bouncer was carrying him out, Gerald heard the bartender talking to the unconscious man “Macias, you alright? Al?”

Fuck. So much for that job. Whatever. He'd find something. He was confident about that.

TUESDAY

Hungover, Gerald crawled out of bed, throwing on his clothes before stumbling into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Through his bleary eyes, he couldn’t really see that his hair growing down into a set of hideous blunt cut bangs while his cheeks became hollowed out. The spare apartment bathroom he was in seemed to expand as the walls spread further apart, becoming a luxury condo.

He blinked and cleared his vision, flexing in the mirror and admiring his tats.

He scratched his head. This didn't feel right. What the fuck was he doing in this fancy-ass place again? Oh, that’s right. His boss had let him crash here because their shipment hadn’t come in on time. He’d have to run fifteen extra bricks today, but the amount of money he was gonna make off them was more than worth it.

He collected the package and exited the apartment, making sure the lock clicked shut behind him. Realizing he’d left his handwritten list of addresses back at his apartment (he was supposed to memorize the list and burn it - no digital footprint - but his memory was shit). As he walked, the neighborhood around him became rougher and more graffitied-up.

The single bulb lit up the dusty, cramped confines of his apartment. He dropped the package on the floor, and one of the bricks burst open, sending a spray of white powder all over the floor. Well, he knew one way to clean that up. He shuffled it into a straight line and snorted it, sending a thrill of pleasure up and down every one of his nerve endings.

Forget the deliveries. Maybe he should call up his buds and they could party hard tonight. The vague thought that he might get in trouble over this flickered in the back of his brain, but he was sure everything would be fine. In fact, he was confident about it.

WEDNESDAY

“Gerald? That’s a pansy-ass name for someone like you. What’s your street name, buddy? Let me guess. Something that you think makes you sound way tougher than you are. Grizz? Slash?”

The interrogating cop sneered at him from across the table, throwing his ID onto the metal surface.

“It’s Snake,” he spit. He couldn’t fucking believe Jack had betrayed him like this. They had agreed to rob the bank together, and it wasn’t his fault Jack had gotten caught. Fucking snitch-ass plea deal-taking motherfucker. If he ever got out of here, Jack was gonna be fucking dead meat. Fuck, he owed the boss so much money. Wasn’t the first thing he learned not to get high on his own supply? Fucking idiot mistake.

And now he was here. Who knows for how long. They sure had a lot of charges they were trying to make stick, and it’s not like the boss was gonna get one of his lawyers in here after what Snake had done. At least he gave them a hell of a mug shot though. Those horny, lonely women who flocked to the defense of inmates weren’t gonna know what hit ‘em. He was confident about that.

#Commission #Criminal #Bad Boy #Office #Wish

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