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tiredmamaissy · 1 year

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Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter One

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. I love her and all her art so much that when I saw Ralak I was so compelled to write a fic for him. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Teytey, you knocked it out the park with this one (as you always do, my love).

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: shit ton of fluff, profanity, age gap, a lot of sexual tension, size difference, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 4.4k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: I hope I did this gorgeous man justice and wrote his character well. It was an interesting challenge to introduce his character and build a plot with it. Chapter two and three will be out shortly! I’m beyond overjoyed that you guys are excited for this 😊 I hope I don’t disappoint lool

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

Next ->

The Sully family adopted you from birth, taking you in as their own. They were more than patient with your delayed milestones, moving at the slow pace you set since childhood. You completed your iknimaya a cycle later than your siblings, despite your eagerness to prove your self-worth as one of the Sully’s. Being a late bloomer and smaller than the average na’vi never put a damper on your optimistic attitude, though. It only added fuel to the fire.

The news to seek uturu with the Metkayina came as a shock not only to you but the rest of your siblings, and soon became the leading topic of discussions at family dinner. Jake explained that this is what was necessary, and that you would need to ‘pull your weight’ and ‘make a real effort’. You knew he didn’t mean it as harsh as it sounded, but the words stung nonetheless, plucking out a couple heart strings when they pierced through your chest.

You’ll never forget the day of your arrival here.

War horns blew loudly, signalling your arrival to the village of Awa’atlu. All the members of the clan swarmed the shore to see what the fuss was all about. Even the little ones that could only toddle wriggled their way out of their parents’ arms to get a glimpse. It was overwhelming – to say the least – to have all these eyes on you, scanning every foreign feature of your body, walking around you to inspect you further. You’d never felt more objectified in your life.

When Tonowari and Ronal made their grand entrance on their skimwings, your heart thud furiously in your chest. Sure, the large, winged fish took you by surprise, but the man to Tonowari’s right shook you to your core. His head tilted in wariness, hunting knife secured cautiously in his right hand and the leather wrapped reign gripped tightly in his left.

Wet, long hair plastered to his chest; he eyed you down momentarily before averting his gaze to the rest of your family that calmed their ikrans. His eyes widened ever so slightly at the winged creatures, large with armoured skin, much like the beast he’s bonded with.

You couldn’t help but stare aghast at his sinewy, chiselled features – sculpted by Eywa herself. It didn’t take long for you to understand why he was Tonowari’s right-hand man. His expression of indifference remained fixed on his face. Embodying that of an akula, his presence brought an intimidation like no other.

But what you couldn’t understand were the butterflies that plagued your stomach.

Your gaze lingered for a moment too long, the akula himself now returning the leer. It sent shivers down your spine, turning your butterflies into knots. You looked away, gaze falling onto your toes that burrowed their way into the sand. You felt his eyes bore into you, taking in each dark blue stripe on your tiny body, your slender extremities and thin tail.

You peeked at him through the corner of your eye, to see his gaze locked on your tail as it swished side to side. You saw his ears perk up, and the minor curl of his lips, a sight only a person staring as intently as you would see. You watched as his expression morphed into one of confusion, just before he dropped his head all together.

You would later come to find out that he couldn’t quite understand his own butterflies in his stomach.

The giant stayed seated on his winged beast, as Tonowari and Ronal dismounted theirs and crossed the shore in only a few strides. Initially, they were wary of your arrival, thinking your family would bring war to their village. After your father reassured them, they were gracious enough to grant uturu for your family, and even dispatched their own children to teach you the ways of the people.

Naturally, you had a hard time adjusting to the new biome, water was never really your thing to begin with. You were slow in the water, slender body only holding you back more. The olo’eyktan’s son, Ao’nung, quickly grew agitated with you, handing you off to his sister, Tsireya, who was already overwhelmed with teaching your siblings. You felt like a burden, holding everyone back during lessons. There was absolutely nothing that you were getting the hang of, not even the ‘finger talk’ as you brother calls it.

For the first in your life, you felt completely defeated.

The sweet, determined girl disappeared, leaving nothing but her shell behind. You started missing lessons, making up reasons to stay back in your family marui pod. You often found yourself alone sitting on the shore in the height of the eclipse, dipping your feet into the warm water. Jake would always find his babygirl, demanding to know what was wrong. But you could never reveal the truth, not after what he said to you before your departure. Especially not now, not after failing so terribly for two entire months.

At this point, your siblings had passed their iknimaya, and you were the only one left.

----

Tsireya presses two fingertips right above your navel, resting her other hand on your chest, fixing your posture. “Breathe from down here. You must slow down your heartbeat, y/n.”

You’ve heard this a million times by now. You know this, but it didn’t matter. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get it. Frustrated, you exhale harshly, gritting your teeth so you won’t speak the words flooding your mind.

“Look. I know you’re frustrated, but you are getting so much better. If we just keep –”

“No! I’m fucking tired of this. I’ll never get it. Alright?!” you shout, shuffling to your feet to.

You scan the circle of surprised na’vi, all of which are staring up at you in disbelief. You could see Tsireya’s face screw with hurt, which only makes your heart ache more. An apology brews in your chest, when all five pairs of eyes flicker to something behind you. Turning on your heels, you see what everyone is looking at.

Jake, Tonowari, and his right-hand man all standing in front of you, presumably listening to your every word. You stand there for a bit, eyes bouncing between Tonowari and Jake before landing on the giant. He stands tall, staring off into the distance with that same deadpan look on his face. His hair is tucked behind his ears, revealing the stud in his lobe, the freckles on his jaw – the deeper blue markings on his neck.

This is the first time you’re getting a good look at him, seeing the first time you two met things were... eventful.

His freckles are conspicuous, even in broad daylight, beautifully patterned and abundant throughout his body. Perhaps it’s his lighter-cyan coloured skin and swirls for stripes, but his freckles twinkled just right from the reflection of the water. They even seemed to trace his stripe pattern on his forehead and brow bones. A single tahni under each eye... his ocean, impassive eyes.

A sleeve of tattoos covers his right arm, a sleeve on his right knee to his ankle, and a tattoo of stripes below his navel that went underneath his – oh. Your brows lift slightly, tensed facial muscles relaxing.

That’s an interesting place for a tattoo.

This tattoo continued between his prominent v-lines, under the band of his loincloth. You begin counting the stripes.

One, two, three, four, five... six.

It takes the sound of Jake clearing his throat for you to reluctantly peel your eyes away from this poor man’s crotch.

“Right, babygirl. Ralak here is going to be your teacher from now on.” Jake motions his hand over to the Metkayina, who’s now visibly, and unsuccessfully, trying to appear friendlier.

You couldn’t help but scoff, frustration now bubbling over in your chest once more. “So what? I’m so shit at this that I need a ‘special’ teacher?” you glance over at Ralak and roll your eyes.

“Language!” Jake whispers harshly, giving you that look. The look he gives you when you’re embarrassing him.

“No. I’m tired of this. I want to go home.” you shrug, storming past him just for him to wrap his hand around your upper arm and drag you back.

“That’s enough.” Jake growls, bending over to meet you at eye level. “Tonowari has been kind enough to arrange for Ralak to help you. He was once a fisherman.”

“The best. At about your age.” Tonowari stands proudly as he utters the words, “And now he’s one of the best warriors. I hand selected him myself.”

Your eyes flicker over to Ralak, whose ears lay flat against his skull, brows slightly pinched, jaw clenched. It’s hard to tell what he was feeling, his mask of indifference fixed tightly on his face. Was he grimacing? Or maybe he was trying not to.

Regardless, it looked as if the words upset him. Maybe there was something more beneath this cold exterior. Something that maybe you can pry out of him. Something that intrigued you. The corners of your lips curl upwards, an expression that any outsider would perceive as happiness, but Jake knew you had something else in mind.

Something more mischievous.

“I apologize, sir. I am... just frustrated.” your eyes shift from one giant to the next as you bow before the olo’eyktan. “It would be an honour to have Ralak be my...” you glance over at him, “...karyu [teacher].”

Jake remains silent, pursing his lips as he watches the scene unfold.

“Ah. I understand.” Tonowari smirks, shrugging his shoulder. “It is decided, Ralak will teach you.” he looks at Ralak, giving the order, “Today.”

Jake raises his brows at you, as if he were telling you to behave and not cause any trouble. You tilt your head and subtly stick out just the tip of your tongue. Tonowari walks away, a large hand brushing against Jake’s back to signal him to follow. Jake turns around and joins the larger na’vi, two olo’eyktans now making their way back to the tall mangroves.

“Hey, karyu.” you sing, eyes fluttering as you stare up at the towering man.

He looks down at you for a moment, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. His ears twitch as he swiftly turns around, walking away from you. “Come.”

So that’s what his voice sounds like.

It’s gruff, yet smoky. Deep and husky, thick with... nothing but his Metkayina accent. It was flat and monotone, revealing nothing of his true character. You follow closely behind him, already excited about how you plan to get him to reveal more about himself. He seems to be a man of few words, reserved and... composed. You couldn’t deny that there is a part of you that wants to poke at him, to see how far you can take things with him.

Before you know it, you’re standing in a secluded clearing on the shore, nestled far away where the fishermen tend to hunt. You look around, scanning your surroundings with curious eyes. You see a secluded marui pod, seemingly larger than all the others you’ve seen thus far. It's tightly woven with orange and red sturdy material, secured tightly to the thick mangrove roots around it.

“That yours?” you stick him with your first poke of the day, eager eyes trying to look inside the marui.

His gaze remains fixed on the fishnet that he’s gathering in his hands. “Yes.”

“Pretty big for...” you mumble, shifting your gaze towards him to be met with the sight of him unbuckling his cumberbund. “...just one person.” your voice dwindles in volume, fading out into a breathy whisper.

If your eyes could protrude from your head anymore, they would. You always had a hard time masking how you feel as your facial expressions were quick to give it away. His cumberbund falls into the wet sand, embellished razor sharp akula teeth piercing its surface. Your eyes trail up his body, settling on his bare chest.

“Today, fishing net. Tomorrow, ilu.” he mutters, putting his hair into a loose bun as he ventures further into the water.

“O-kay.” the word comes out broken and awkward.

Venturing out into the water, he settles in the spot he used to go frequently as a fisherman. Waist deep into the water, he looks behind him, chin meeting his chest to land his gaze on you, chest-deep in the water. He realizes that he's gone too far out for you, and walks towards you.

Your beaded top plasters to your chest, revealing your peaked nipples as your breasts bounce with the tide. His eyes quickly avert to the shore, eyelids fluttering a little faster than they should.

“Come.” he walks past you, prompting you to follow him once more. You bounce your way back to the shore until the water is crashing into your stomach. “Watch.” he says, fixing his stance to show you a demonstration.

You watch intently, focus being on the wrong thing, honestly. Your eyes had a hard time looking away from his chiselled body – from each dip and ridge of his muscles on full display. How could you focus? Especially now that he’s barely thigh deep into the water, loincloth clung to his bulge. You swallowed thickly at the sight, was that huge thing really his –

“Erm. Got it?” the sound of him clearing his throat snaps you out of your deep thought.

“Mhm!” you nod quickly, doe eyed and genial smiled.

He nods once, handing you the netting. You take it slowly, buying yourself sometime to figure out how to throw this thing. Standing with your left foot in front of your right, you bend your elbows out, holding the yoke of the net close to your chest.

He grunts in disapproval, settling behind you to fix your stance. He gently kicks your feet apart, putting your dominant foot in front. Large hands grip your tiny waist, shifting your stance slightly to the left. They slip up your sides, and run along the length of your upper arms, stopping at your elbows to tuck them in. He’s so focused on correcting your poor posture that he doesn’t even realize how he’s pressing himself against you.

“Like this.” he huffs, hand enveloping yours to shift it further from the yoke of the cast net. “Hold here.” his other hand grabs the lead line and plunks it into yours.

Heart pounding at a dangerous speed, you take a few deep breaths. Perhaps it was the nerves of casting your first net, or maybe it was just how this gentle giant is pressed against you. Either way, you can’t ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach again.

“Now throw.” he says barely over a whisper, backing away from you.

You twist your upper body, core tensing when you throw the net as hard as you can, only for it to clump together rather than spread out. Your shoulders drop and lips press tight, a wave of disappointment washing over you.

“Again.” he orders, pulling the net towards him.

Ralak had you throw the net half a dozen more times before giving you your first break. You prodded and poked at him, trying your best pry personal information out of him – to no avail. He remained unaffected by your persistent jabs, revealing nothing other than how he pined for the days of being a fisherman.

“Karyu. I-I’ll never get it.” you huff in frustration, gathering the fishnet from the surface of the water for a tenth time.

“Again.” he says patiently, unbothered by your frustration.

“Karyu. Please. It is not working. Can’t we try something else?” you beg, arms and back sore from throwing the fishnet so many times.

He looks at you for a moment, taking in the slouch of your back – the strain on your face. He felt bad for you, but he could also see that you were so close to learning the skill.

“No. Again.” he orders monotonously, taking note of your gaze drifting off to the mangroves nearby. “Focus. Eyes on me.”

“How am I supposed to focus when you look so, so –” you cut yourself short with a sigh.

“So, what?” he tilts his head and raises a brow.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, landing them right on that damn tattoo again.

Why was it so low? Didn’t that hurt? Why there of all places?

“Look. I see you –”

The words make your eyes snap up to his, heart thumping wildly in your chest.

“...staring.”

You didn’t realise you were lingering until he pointed it out. How could you not? Surely, he chose that spot for a reason. Perhaps his mate wanted it there, so she could trace the lines with her tongue, all the way down to his –

Am I... jealous right now? I don’t even know this man.

“Who did that tattoo?” you question harshly, green flame of envy igniting in your chest.

“This one?” he chuckles softly, tugging at the hem of his loincloth.

You drop your head, gaze locked on your hands fiddling with the net, hoping to hide the blood that’s rushing to your cheeks. “Yeah. That one.”

“Again. And I tell you.” he pulls the hem back up before crossing his arms over his chest.

Your gaze snaps back up to him, eyes wide with excitement. This is the first time he’d be revealing anything personal about himself. A smile splits your lips as you fix the net in your hands once more, burrowing your feet into the sand. Your eyes narrow on the target – a school of fish off in the near distance.

Twisting your torso, you cast the fishnet, watching it splay out perfectly and trap majority of the fish. You stare in awe, surprised that it even splayed out much less caught some fish. Once it registers, you jump up in glee, quickly turning to your teacher to see his pleased expression and slight nod.

“I did.” he utters, a smirk barely pulling at his lips.

Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you’re perplexed by his two words. “Huh?” you huff, brows pinching together in confusion.

“I did the tattoo.” he says, holding eye contact with you.

“Oh.” your lips pucker at the words, furrowed brows now raising in understanding. Being so surprised by yourself – finally getting something right – you forgot about your little deal.

He breaks eye contact to look over at your perfectly casted fishnet. “If you ride an ilu, maybe I show you the rest of it.” he says through his thick accent, making his way towards the fishnet. “Since you are so... interested.”

“I-I’m not – it, it is just in a – an interesting spot.” you stutter, eyes locked onto your twiddling thumbs.

“Ah.” he gathers the fishnet in his large hands, bundling it together to call it a day. “If you say so... vultsyìp [stick; tree branch]”

“What did you just call me?” your leer snaps up, eyelids squinting at his tensed back muscles that flex and relax as he gathers the net.

A smile pulls at his lips, although you can barely see it from the angle in which he’s facing. It’s contagious, causing your own lips to curl, and soon enough you’re giggling into your hand.

----

Ralak became the light in the darkness, pulling you out of your shell and filling you with the purpose that you once lost. Things came quick to you, thanks to him. He was a great teacher, always patient with you, never showing his agitation – or any other emotion for that matter.

You learned how to hold your breath properly in only a week, due to his persistence and confidence in you. He’d always be quick to praise you after you accomplished something, whether that be with a quick clap, a gentle tap on the back, or – in bigger accomplishments – a hug.

The bond between the two of you strengthened. Overnight. You put a crack in his walls, and bits of his true self began to shine through them. And that was your biggest accomplishment yet. To see a person with the strength of five men turn into a little water puppy in front of you, and you only.

There would be moments where his façade of indifference would drop completely. The moments where he would chuckle a little too loudly, a little too long. Where that shy smile grew wide enough to flash his lengthy canines, and a primal part of you that you tried to supress, desired to know what they felt like sunk into your neck. Clamping down on you while you writhe underneath him, being tamed by his touch.

The moments where you’d tease one another about your differences. His stature in comparison to yours. Pressing your hands together, only for yours to be lost in his palm. And when you pulled away, your fingers intertwined ever so slightly, prickling the skin all over your body. He loved to tease you. Honestly a little too much, poking at your chest with a figurative finger about how you favoured that of a vultsyìp. It’s what got you riled up the most and soon it became your nickname.

Until the day you successfully rode your first ilu.

It was an exhilarating experience, nothing like what you had experienced prior. You glided through the water effortlessly, flowing with the movements of the blubbery creature. When you broke the waters’ surface, Ralak stood proudly in the shallow end, arms crossed over his chest with a smile on his face. It was a rare occurrence – that smile.

And when you laid your eyes on such a sight, the butterflies flew back into your stomach, fluttering and flapping harder than they ever have. They soon became plenty in number, filling your stomach to the brim until you can no longer suppress the way you feel. The flutter in your stomach radiated throughout your body, sending your legs fluttering too. You swam quickly to him, surprising yourself with your speed.

“You did it. Like I said.” he smiles smugly.

“Hope you didn’t forget about our deal.” you grin, wringing out the water from your hair.

“You would not let me.” he scoffs, shaking his head as he uncrosses his arms. “Ready?” he asks, cocking a brow while his fingers glide down his stomach, finding purchase under the under the band of his loincloth.

“From the moment I saw it, karyu.” you say, voice feigned with confidence.

He could see through your disguise, though. It only makes him chuckle, to see such a little thing act so big – so dauntless. He tugs his loincloth down, taut strings now sinking into his upper thighs, revealing not only the entirety of his tattoo but also the base of his length.

“H-how did you manage to do that all on your own? Didn’t it hurt?” you ask sheepishly, voice laced with concern.

“Bottle of fermented fruit and a rag to bite. No pain.” he answers, Metkayina accent thick.

You examine it a little closer, leaning in to have a better look. It’s raised, very slightly – invisible to anyone not staring as intently as you are. Most definitely because it’s hand poked, by himself of all people. An innocent thought floods your mind, so loud that you couldn’t stop the movement of your own hand.

How does it feel?

“Can I –” you glance up at him briefly, hand hovering over the tattoo, “Can I touch it?”

His brows and ears shudder for just a few seconds. He quickly regains his composure, swallowing silently before giving you a single nod. Fingertips experimentally graze over the tattoo, taking in its bumpy texture. Your digits trace each line of his tattoo, down to his pelvis. A sudden jerk of his hips causes you to yank your hand back.

“S-sorry, Ralak.” you mumble, feeling a little ashamed that you may have made him uncomfortable.

But in all honesty, your innocent, little touches were arousing him and he didn’t want you to know.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” he states, fixing his loincloth.

You straighten your spine, a foot stepping back to create space that you think he wants, only for him to pull you in for a hug.

“You did well today, vultsyìp.” he mumbles, hands resting on your head and back. “Tsurak [skimwing] next and you will be Metkayina.”

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.” you giggle, warm embrace and snarky commentary ebbing away whatever feelings of doubt tensing your chest.

It’s the way his huge arms engulf you that make you feel so protected and accepted. It’s something you always looked forward to after a big achievement. You lean into him, laying your head on his chest. The smell of sea salt mixed with leather hide wafts up your nose. You take a deep breath, holding it in your lungs until you feel light in the head. Releasing your breath with a loud huff, you smile widely.

It’s so enticing, so addictive.

“You always do that.” he chuckles breathily, swiping back a few strands of hair stuck to your temple.

“’ts not my fault you sea people smell so good.” you mumble into his chest, taking in another deep breath.

“Ah.” he exhales, hand cupping the back of your head. “My hì’i vultsyìp [little stick]” he almost grimaces at his words, it just wasn’t fitting anymore. Not for situations like these. Not when his chest feels so tight.

You lift your head and stare up at him with eyes of innocence. He looks down at you, ocean blue eyes searching yours. You’d never even noticed the little yellow ring around his pupils until now, how they shimmer when the light catches them just right. There’s an unspoken tension, thick in the air – so thick it makes you swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks. Your smile fades, lips parting as your breaths turn hot.

Eyes growing heavy, they almost close in anticipation that he might – just might – kiss you.

“Tanhì.” he mutters, eyes minutely shifting between each freckle on your forehead. He’s counts them, admiring how they embellish your supple, dark blue skin.

Your smile returns like it never left, except it’s wider – brighter. The last ray of sun shines through the sliver of a gap between your silhouettes, averting your attention to the oncoming eclipse.

“Thank you, karyu.” you whisper, reluctantly pulling away from his arms to make the trek back home.

“Tomorrow...” he watches your small figure shrink as you walk away. “...my tanhì.”

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ciphykiss · 1 year

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dating mikey headcanons

description: f!reader, sfw, school!romance, mikey being a dork, tooth-rotting fluff ♬♪♫

mikey in love is such an... odd experience. he's a textbook tsundere but in the strangest way; much like the contrast between ringleader mikey and the mikey that's around his closest circle, mikey in love would be just as much of a jumpscare.

i headcanon mikey has quite literally 0 experience in romance. nada. zilch. absolutely nothing. guy's always been for the boys (the opposite of a girl's girl; a boy's boy *shudder*); and while there likely had been a number of girls that had crushes and admired him from a distance, none of them had the balls to even glance at him too long, much less confess.

that's not to say the concept of love is completely foreign to him; he sees the way his homeboys get flustered around pretty girls, the way emma fawns over draken, and he's not stupid enough to not notice the adoration his best friend has for his sister. he knows it exists, in concept—just not in practice.

so when he starts noticing the way your hair falls over your shoulder in class (not that he attends much), how your eyes light up when you eat your favorite dessert, & the way he blanks out in a daze when you hold his hand for the first time after losing draken, emma, takemitchy, and hina (triple date!! or rather, the girls roped you into it) in a theme park crowd (because all of them had noticed long before the two of you), allowing you to tug him along as you please, completely pliant, he doesn't know what it is. your hand is warm and he is warmer, there's something blooming in the pit of his stomach and in his chest, and mikey feels the same way he had when kazutora hammered him with a crowbar, only twice as lightheaded.

he doesn't even recognize there's something different until you manage to hunt down the girls with their respective beaus and breathe a sigh of relief because finally you'd found draken and could hand over the compressed nuclear bomb of a delinquent to more capable hands.

and mikey finds, when you let go of his hand, that he misses your warmth; he stares at the space previously occupied by you, how your fingers had laced around his, secure and soft against his calloused ones; and he'd felt safe, for the first time in years, because he wasn't the boy-delinquent of the house or the leader of toman or a big brother trying desperately to fill in the shoes of his predecessor.

it's a collection of events that tick his mental checkboxes; how often he'd find himself staring at you (until you'd get creeped out by his unreadable, dead-fish eyes + how impassive his gaze was and made a face), how he had certain urges to win over your touch after that day at the theme park, or when you'd raised a brow at his bleeding knuckles and all it took was a single tap of your fingers over the broken flesh to have him starving, or how he had the inexplicable urge to bash baji's face in after seeing the two of you chat away in the corner during a toman hangout (he stared at the two of you all ( ⓛ ω ⓛ ) until you both sweatdropped & you stopped playing with baji's stupid hair (he had long hair too you know??))

i retcon that naturally, you'd be slightly more intimidated by mikey than any of the other toman members (not that you were particularly close to the group besides a select few and the girls), because mikey is, well, mikey. it isn't until he grows frustrated with your natural aversion to him versus the others (because why the hell did you seek out baji when you wanted to play hair and why didn't you yell at him when he did something stupid or grab him by the collar and scream expletives when he went too fast on his bike) that your dynamic begins to change.

mikey will neither confess nor woo you like a normal guy would. nope. way too cool emotionally underdeveloped for that. expect him to storm up to you pouting after he's through with being disrespected and drag you to his bike to give you a ride home instead. because baji is just as stupid as mikey (and one of the few people that are dense enough not to notice his feelings), he'll stress out an aggravated "hah? you pickin' a fight, mikey??" & draken knocks him on the side of his head while chifuyu facepalms at his leader's stupidity.

you're paralyzed with fear because this is sano-freaking-mikey whose bike you're strapped to, and it isn't until he revs his engine and bolts off without warning that you let out a shrill and cling to his back to avoid vehicular manslaughter

you're dating him from that day on. it doesn't matter if you yourself don't realize it or if he never spat out the actual words or how he tells draken and emma to stfu when they smirk knowingly at him and wiggle their brows (occasionally mitsuya joins in but he's not quite as insufferable). he will hog all your attention, drag you out of class to 'entertain' him (aka feed him or just lay his head on your lap to sunbathe (like a cat!! (but dw he's mindful not to do this on test days bc he doesn't want you failing))), climb up to your window at 3 AM like a friggin serial killer so he can cuddle you to sleep (he does this when his impulses are triggered; mans will literally soak in the rain until you let him in)

while you may have been oblivious to his advances before, it's not long before you realize the two of you are exclusive; mikey is pretty convincing.

it takes a month or so for his childish parts to come out. his boyish quirks, normally reserved for draken, take the form of more outward bluntness and tantrums; unnerving stares turn to tugs to his chest and whines of "pay attention to me", stolen scrunchies (they will never touch another hair on baji's head again), to pathetic cries for attention like walking up to you with his hair in a disarray or bruises he'd collected on purpose.

he loves it when you fawn over him. he once demanded you paint his nails and since then, you'd keep a bottle of black polish (he's not quite so fond of pastels) and handcream in your schoolbag to apply during passing period.

openly steals your hair ties, clips, jewelry.

super cringe but he would 100% ask for a bra strap bracelet. would wear it with pride.

get matching game pfps and lockscreens with him or you die.

you will always lose pocky games.

would be the type to steal your phone and take candids of himself/his friends doing embarrassing shit (best part is they can't delete it) for you to laugh at later

this isn't to say he doesn't have a protective side; mikey's bad with feelings, but he's the type to hide your face in his jacket if you're crying in public so you can save face/be open with your grief, listen in silence to your pain (when there's nothing he can beat up), and sit with you until you're stable.

will drop whatever he's doing and come to you in the middle of the night if you need him. then proceed to take you on a night ride to his favorite spots in the city to get things off your mind.

mikey's a boy's boy; he’s gotta be with a girl's girl.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev fluff #mikey sano #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo revengers headcanons #sano manjiro #tokrev #sfw #there's three cute songs linked under the music notes that I think describe this post hehe #tokyo revengers mikey #if ur taller than mikey (me too lmao) just pretend ur teasing him about his height in the pic

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pritamandginsbergsgarden · 3 years

Photo

by Vikram Seth, from The Humble Administrator’s Garden

#english #vikram seth #indian poets #queer poets #gentle poems #read poems #indian poetry #indian english #trees in poems #to gaze at fish and foreigner in the park

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dreamcatcherrs · 3 years

Text

august - ranboo x reader

+ disclaimer! I don't know if ranboo actually has a cat :)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ranboo x f!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: ranboo can’t help but to blush every time you look at him, not realising that he was falling even harder for you than he realised.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.478

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none :)

song recommendation: august - taylor swift

the first time he’d spotted you was in science class, near the end of the school year. that one time you looked up and smiled at him because of something stupid he’d said to his friend, that you for some reason found funny - he couldn’t stop thinking of that smile for the rest of the day. the image of you stuck in his head.

the next time he saw you was in p.e. you were wearing those pretty red sports shorts that you always wore, but he for some reason had never noticed until now. and whenever you’d walk or run past him, the smell of vanilla would follow behind you, filling his nostrils with the scent, and it felt heavenly. from that day on, he decided that he really liked the smell of vanilla.

weeks went by before you first talked to him. you were sat behind him and had poked his shoulder to ask him if he had a spare pencil for you to borrow. he breathed in, eyes wide from surprise. were you talking to him? it was only when you tilted your head to the side with a playful smile on your face that he realised he’d been zoned out, completely forgetting that he had to respond.

“uh- yeah, sure.” he’d fumbled with his backpack, trying to fish out his pencil case only to remember… he didn't have one. he moved his hands back again, looking back up at you as you leaned over the table with a patient smile on your face. “uhm… actually, I don't have one either.”

that made you laugh, and he was just confused, cheeks turning red in embarrassment. “well, I guess I can't really complain about that,” you giggled, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “I’m y/n, by the way. we have science together, I just don't think we ever got the chance to talk.” he grabbed the hand you’d put out to shake, staring into your bright eyes as you shook his hand. were there stars in your eyes? it looked like there was a whole other universe in there.

“I guess not-”

“hey, you two. eyes up here.” mr. jefferson, you douche-

“sorry mr. jefferson!” you apologised, before turning to send him a playful smile. as if you two had a secret that no one else knew about. he wondered if that smile was always able to get you out of trouble. he thought about it for a while as mr. jefferson explained the different historic sculptures, and then came to the conclusion, that no one could be mad at a person with such a smile for very long.

“aww, you never told me you had a kitty!”

he threw his backpack onto the arm chair in his living room, letting out an exasperated sigh as you followed behind him, or rather, followed his cat behind him. he turned around to see you crouched down beside his cat, softly petting it with the cutest smile on your face.

“yeah. pretty cute, right?” he joined you by petting the purring creature, heart bubbling with how cute the sight in front of him was. he wasn't just talking about the cat.

“well, should we get started?” you asked, shrugging your own backpack off and getting out a small notebook. he’d noticed you wrote in it a couple of times during the class before.

you’d both been assigned for a science project together - what a coincidence. he wasn't complaining though - not at all. you’d had fun times together in class since, now being sat beside each other. you’d gone to his place to put in some extra work ethic. “you’re lucky I actually like science! then we’ll get some work done.”

you plopped down on his couch, taking in the comfiness for a moment, before fishing out your computer. “are you implying something?” you giggled at his question, lifting a finger at him.

“that I do all of the work in science class while you sit and stare at me? yes.”

a wave of heat flooded over him, cheeks and ears turning red and his palms sweating up. was it that obvious?

you patted the spot on the couch beside you for him to sit down, a small smile etched onto your face. he did so, finding a comfortable way to sit in before looking over at your computer screen. you turned you head to him, scooting closer when you noticed he could barely see your screen. as if that would help his sweaty armpits and rosy cheeks…

“okay, do you remember our lesson about polar and non-polar electronegativity?” his face was blank. the words were foreign to him. was that the day you wore that pink lipstick? or did he just think that because he thought it looked so good on you?

you rolled your eyes playfully at his lack of response, proceeding to point at the screen and explain to him what it means. he listened to start off with, but then soon realised that his thoughts had drifted off to another place, eyes gazing over to look at you instead of the screen. and instead of listening, he started thinking about the way your lips moved - how cute and perfect they were. and how much he wanted to kiss them.

he lost his train of thought when you turned your head to him again, a frown on your face when noticing how lost in thought he was, clearly not paying attention, yet your look of disbelief quickly turned into a surprised expression. was he looking at you?

“you’re not listening.”

he looked bewildered for a moment, but quickly managed to clear his throat awkwardly, eyes turning to the screen again. “sorry.”

you began to explain again, and this time he only glanced over at you once when... was that blush on your cheeks?

the first time he kissed you was one month later, summer break. you were at the local park, basking in the rays of sun as the summer was soon to end. the smell of freshly mowed grass was all that filled your nostrils, and the fresh breeze every now and then was enough to keep you from melting under the heat of the sun.

you were sat at a nice waterfall, your backs turned towards it as you ate the sandwiches you had just bought. the sound of water trickling out of the different places on the statue was pleasant for your ears, peaceful really.

he’d gone to push his longer hair out of his face, and then rest his hand beside him, in the middle of the two of you. but instead of meeting a cold surface, his hand met your soft one, that was already resting right where he was about to put his hand.

he heard you gasp softly, head turning to look down at your hands. he looked back at you with wide eyes, which you quickly returned when realizing what had happened, a rosy colour spreading over your cheeks. and right then, he couldn’t help himself. he knew you hadn’t known each other for that long, but he knew you. and he for sure knew that he liked you.

as your eyes stared into his, head slightly leaning in, he kissed you. soft and sweet and short, and when he pulled back again, your eyes were closed and you didn’t look displeased at all. and that’s when he knew, you liked him, too.

“ranboo, I swear, if you rest your arm on my head one more time!”

he laughed at your small threat, removing his arm from its comfortable place on the top of your head. he ruffled your hair, just to annoy you, with a playful smirk on his face. you pouted at him, fixing your hair again and softly shoving at his chest.

“fine~ I’ll stop. you’re just so short, it’s hard not to,” he giggled, patting the top of your head lightly as he smiled down at you brightly.

“maybe you should just be shorter. then I won't have to get on my toes all the time to kiss you.” you crossed your arms, staring up at him with a smirk on your face.

he shrugged. “nah. I kinda like seeing you struggle with that.”

you rolled your eyes and let out a low grumble, acting like a kid who was just told they weren't allowed any candy. before you knew it, a dandelion was pushed back into your hair, followed suit by a quick peck on your cheek. your lips parted in surprise, eyes staring up at him again, before reaching your hand up to gently touch the flower, a small smile spreading across your face.

“now,” he started, leaning down to intertwine his fingers with yours. “shall we go out to enjoy the last day of august?”

_____________________________________

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junghelioseok · 4 years

Text

clandestine. | 01

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 10.3k [1/6]

notes: this fic was originally going to be a oneshot, but i changed my mind and decided i didn’t want to kill tumblr with a totally unnecessary 50k jk fic so 🤷🏻‍♀️ here is part one of a fic that 100% only came about because @puellaigmotum coerced me into it like 2 years ago (lmao rip 💀) and also bc i have zero self-control and am hopelessly h*rny for jungkook these days and don’t look at me i don’t wanna talk about it okay??? 🙈

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink, some ~under the table~ action, too much detail about jk’s dumb veiny arms probably, but at least he doesn’t have tattoos bc i started writing this before he got them and i don’t need to torture myself anymore than i already do!!!

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

It’s always been easy to spot your brother in a crowd. Passengers flood off the train, jostling around you on their way to the station’s exit, but even in the swarm you can perfectly see Jimin’s golden head of hair bobbing its way toward you, a deep scowl etched across his face. “You’re late,” he says in lieu of a greeting, his honey brown eyes raking over your scuffed suitcase distastefully as he comes to a stop a few feet away.

“And you’re just as impatient as ever,” you retort, coming to a stop before him with your luggage in tow. “Think you can lord it over me since you can drive now?”

“Don’t forget that I’m your ride home,” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I could just as easily leave you here to fend for yourself.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you tell him, raising a brow in silent challenge.

Jimin stares down at you unflinchingly, and you stare right back. The tension stretches between you, taut and heavy, until every passing second feels like a light year. Around you, the crowd slowly dissipates, but still you remain—two motionless statues locked in a wordless struggle. From somewhere overhead, a monotone voice announces the next train departure times.

Jimin’s mouth twitches. You blink, twice in quick succession.

And then your little brother breaks into a grin—one that’s so wide you fear his mouth may detach from his face entirely. An answering smile settles across your face as you watch him throw his head back, dissolving into laughter that you can’t help but echo.

“Damn it, Chim!” you say, instinctively grabbing onto his wrist when it looks like he might fall over. “Your poker face still sucks.”

“I’ve gotten better!” Jimin immediately defends. “I mean, you’ve got to admit that, right?”

“Nope.” You sigh and hold a hand over your head so you can measure your height against his ever-so-slightly taller frame. “Same old annoying kid I grew up with. Seriously, have you grown at all in the past year?”

“Whoa, too far, Noona.” Jimin takes ahold of both of your cheeks, pinching them affectionately. “You’re only a year older than me, you know. Besides, I’ve been taller than you for two years now!”

“I’m pretty sure hitting puberty at age seventeen isn’t something to be proud of,” you reply, pulling away from him with a mock grimace and giggling when he lets out an offended squeak. Playfully, you reach up to ruffle his hair, scrubbing your knuckles just a little too roughly against his skull.

“Noonaaa,” he complains, drawing out the last syllable until he runs out of air. “Jeez, you haven’t even been back for an hour yet and you’re already being mean to me. When do you go back to Seoul again?”

“Three weeks,” you reply, narrowing your eyes. “But I can and will make these three weeks hell for you. Don’t test me.”

Jimin snickers and drapes his arm over your shoulders. He picks up your suitcase with the other hand, and you thank him with another, gentler hair ruffle as the two of you start toward the exit of the train station. “College hasn’t changed you one bit.”

“And senior year hasn’t changed you,” you say, letting him guide you outside and breathing in the balmy summer evening air. Jimin’s brow furrows as he tries to remember where he’s parked, and you kindly take your suitcase back when he nods decisively and heads toward the left side of the lot. “You excited to graduate?”

He sighs, fumbling in his pocket for the keys as the two of you approach the car. “It’s going to suck. Your ceremony was boring as hell last year.”

“Wow, rude.”

Jimin looks up from where he’s unlocking the driver’s side door. “Am I wrong, though?”

You flash him a grin as he unlocks the remaining doors, heaving your suitcase into the backseat before sliding into the passenger seat beside him. “Nope. But afterward, you’ll be done with high school forever.”

“Thank god.” Your brother rakes a hand through his hair, mussing it further as he carefully starts the ignition and checks his mirrors with all the diligence of a new driver. Once satisfied, he pulls out of the parking space, meandering his way out of the lot and onto the main street.

The ride back to your childhood home is a short one, full of familiar storefronts and landmarks that dredge up all sorts of fond memories. You hadn’t expected your first year of university—away from your family and your hometown—to make you quite so emotional. But before you know it, Jimin is making the turn into your neighborhood, and you can’t stop the way your eyes begin to well up when you see your house in the distance.

As if reading your mind, Jimin glances at you as he pulls into the driveway. “Feel good to be home?”

You nod, blinking back tears. “Feels great.”

He grins. Pulling the key from the ignition, he climbs out of the car and grabs your suitcase, waving for you to head inside. Eagerly, you start toward the front door, but you barely make it halfway up the driveway when it bursts open, revealing your father standing there with open arms and an enormous grin. He’s just as tall as you remember, and looks exactly the same save a few more strands of silver lacing his hair. All of a sudden, you’re a little girl again, running up to give him a hug and giggling madly when he tries to scoop you up like he used to do so many years ago.

“Hi Dad,” you greet when he gives up and sets you back down on two feet. “Where’s Mom?”

“Cooking up a storm,” he replies, chortling. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he leads you into the kitchen where your mother is hunched over the stove with a spatula, delicious aromas wafting up from the array of pots and pans in front of her. “Honey, look who’s home!”

“Hi Mom,” you say, grinning when she whirls around, startled. The spatula, still dangling loosely from her hand, drips sauce onto the tiled floor, but she barely notices in her eagerness to give you a hug, throwing it down into one of the simmering pots and striding forward to wrap you up in a tight embrace.

“How was your trip?” she asks, pulling back and angling your face this way and that. “Did you sleep on the ride? Did Jimin drive safely?”

The last question draws a protesting whine from your brother, who has lugged your suitcase over the threshold and is now seated at the dining table, fiddling with a spoon. “My driving was fine, right Noona?” he says, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout.

“Yes, Chim,” you agree, laughing at the pleased expression that overtakes his face. Curiously, you walk over to the stove to inspect the food, your jaw dropping as you take in the assorted vegetables and meats. “Wow, Mom. Are you cooking for an army?”

“Jungkook is coming over for dinner,” she explains, following you over and plucking up the spatula again. “That boy has the biggest appetite I’ve ever seen—you remember, right?”

You laugh. “Of course I remember. He and Jimin were always stealing bites of my lunch at school.” Peering over at your brother, you fix him with a mock glare before walking over to the cutting board on the counter and sizing up the pile of onions and peppers sitting there. “It’ll be nice to see him again, though. How is he doing?”

To your surprise, a new voice answers your question—a voice that somehow manages to be simultaneously familiar and foreign. “Why don’t you ask me directly, Noona?” it says, and you whirl around, wide-eyed, to face the newcomer.

This can’t possibly be Jeon Jungkook, is your first thought upon seeing the young man standing in the kitchen doorway. The Jungkook you knew in high school was a scrawny kid—all gangly limbs and a nose that was too big for his face. The Jungkook you knew wore oversized white t-shirts that made him look even younger than he was, a look that was only enhanced by round wire-rimmed glasses that always gave him a look of permanent astonishment. The Jungkook you knew was nowhere near this tall, and definitely not this broad.

But this Jungkook—this Jungkook takes up nearly the entire doorframe with his bulk. Dark eyes stare at you from beneath equally dark hair, his gaze unhindered by his old glasses. A cobalt blue shirt stretches tight over his chest, and you swallow when you notice just how much the buttons are straining to contain the muscle underneath. Black jeans and simple black sneakers complete his outfit, and the entire look is so jarringly different from what you’re used to that you are left momentarily speechless, gaping like a fish out of water. Vaguely, you wonder when he got his ears pierced.

And then Jungkook—or at least, the young man claiming to be Jungkook—takes three steps forward, his entire face melting into a crinkly-eyed grin. You catch a glimpse of the adorably prominent front teeth that always made him look like a rabbit, and that’s all it takes to break the spell.

“Jungkookie!” you exclaim, darting forward to greet him. “It’s been so long!”

“Hi, Noona,” he replies, his grin widening at your approach. In an instant, he has you wrapped up in an embrace, easily lifting you off the floor in a display of strength that would’ve had a lesser woman swooning. His hands curl firmly around your waist, and you have no choice but to wrap yours around his nape, squeaking in protest when he spins you in a full circle.

“Kookie!” you gasp, wriggling helplessly in his grasp and huffing when he only cackles. “Put me down!”

Obediently, Jungkook lowers you back to the ground. His hands linger on your waist until he’s certain that both your feet are planted firmly, and it’s only then that he pulls back to get a good look at your face. “You know I’d never drop you, right?” he asks innocently.

“As if I can trust anything that comes out of your mouth,” you retort with a laugh. “I’ve seen you scam your way out of detention with those pretty doe eyes. Don’t try me, kid.”

Jungkook snorts. “Kid? I’m not that much younger than you. Plus I’m older than Jimin, y’know.”

“By a month!” your brother protests from the dining room, his blond head popping up from behind the vase of daisies serving as a centerpiece.

“Month and a half,” Jungkook stage-whispers to you, cupping a hand and bringing his mouth to your ear conspiratorially. His breath tickles your cheek, and you swat him away with a giggle that becomes a full-on laugh when Jimin lets out an offended cry and rises to his feet. Striding over, he pokes Jungkook squarely in the chest, his eyes narrowed.

“I invite you over to my house and this is the thanks I get?”

Your dad chooses that moment to interrupt from the living room. “Your house? When exactly did you start paying rent, Jimin?”

Jimin’s jaw drops. “Are you taking his side?” he asks in disbelief, glaring at Jungkook when he starts laughing. “I’m your son!”

“I’m your father,” your dad replies.

“And I’m your mother,” your mom pipes up, brandishing a spoon. “And I’m telling all of you to get your butts over to that dining table in the next ten seconds, or no dinner for any of you.”

Your dad, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately fall silent, cowed by her proclamation. Grinning, you join your mother at the counter, grabbing a handful of spoons and accepting the platter of kimchi she hands over. “Direct as always, Mom.”

She laughs and picks up a bowl of rice. “To deal with men like them? You have to be.”

Food in hand, you make your way into the dining room. The table is set, the steaming food arranged neatly in the center, and you watch as your mother takes her seat next to Jimin and leaves you to sit beside Jungkook on the opposite side. Your father beams from his spot at the head of the table, glancing at each of you in turn before turning and giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“Look at you kids, all sitting at the same table again.” He sighs, and you’re certain that he’s thinking back to the last time all of you were together—well over a year ago, at this point. “It’s a shame that your parents couldn’t join us, though, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, they told me to apologize on their behalf. They have tickets for the theatre tonight, and couldn’t get a refund on them.”

Your father laughs and waves the apology off. “I’m sure we’ll catch them next time,” he says. “Pretty hard to avoid each other when you live next door, isn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Jungkook agrees with a chuckle. Then he turns to you, the silver hoops in his ears glinting in the light from the overhead chandelier. “I’m sure they’ll drop by soon to see you, Noona. Mom wants to hear all about Seoul—I think she’s worried about sending me so far away by myself.”

“Junghyun stayed in Busan for university, didn’t he?” your mom asks.

Jungkook nods. “Yep, he still lives downtown and everything. He wanted to come over tonight, but his work wouldn’t let him take the time off.”

Your mom sighs. “That’s such a shame. Is he at least attending your graduation?”

“He’s driving in the day after tomorrow for the ceremony,” Jungkook confirms. Then he pauses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His gaze flickers down to the plate of sweet potatoes on the other side of the table, and before he can even open his mouth, your mother is already passing him the plate. He thanks her with an embarrassed chuckle but digs into the food nonetheless, and everyone else takes it as a sign to follow suit. You’re in the middle of scooping rice into your bowl when Jimin speaks up again.

“So what’s it like living in Seoul?” he asks, his cheeks bulging with pork belly. “You have roommates, right?”

“Suitemates,” you correct. “But yeah, I live with three other people. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jennie are all great though, so it hasn’t been a problem.”

Jungkook pauses mid-chew to gape at you. “You live with guys?”

“My building’s co-ed,” you explain. “We all have separate bedrooms, but we share a common space and bathrooms.”

Your mother—on the lookout for any potential future grandchildren, as always—perks up. “Namjoon and Hoseok sound like nice boys. Are you friends?”

“Yes, Mom,” you sigh. “We’re friends. Just friends.” And then before she can ask about whether or not any other boys have caught your eye, you quickly turn back to your brother. “So, what’s your plan for next year? Are you and Jungkook living together?”

Jimin hums. “Yep, that’s the plan. Unless you want to live with us too, Noona.”

You laugh. “Why, so I can protect you from all the bullies like I did in elementary school?”

He flashes you a cheeky grin. “More like so I can protect you from all the weird college guys. Who’s this Hoseok guy anyway? Do I need to beat him up?”

“Please don’t beat up Hobi,” you entreaty, giggling when he pretends to crack his knuckles. “Or Joon!” you add quickly when he remains undeterred and makes to stand up from the table to defend your honor. Balling up your napkin, you throw it at him, and both of you burst into hysterics when your makeshift weapon bounces off his forehead and straight into his glass of water. The rest of dinner passes in a haze of similarly playful antics and happy chatter, and by the time the last bowl is scraped clean, it feels as if you’d never even left.

“I’ll do the dishes,” you volunteer, standing up and gathering up the empty platters. Jungkook and Jimin are quick to jump to your aid, collecting any utensils that you missed, and you offer them a grateful smile as they follow you into the kitchen.

“Let me do the washing, Noona.” Jungkook rolls up the sleeves of his cobalt blue shirt to expose a familiar silver watch glinting on his left wrist—a watch that his father handed down to him when he was sixteen, and that had been worn by his grandfather before him. You still remember the day he’d first worn it to school, proudly displaying it even though the band was too loose around his narrow wrist.

He’s grown into it now, you realize. The watch no longer flops around like it used to, and sits snugly in place instead. Your eyes trace the silver buckle on the inside of his wrist before trailing up to follow the network of thin, branching veins in his forearm, admiring the smooth flex of muscle as he grabs a sponge from the wire rack hanging above the sink and squirts some dish soap onto the surface.

“I’ll dry,” Jimin chirps, selecting a towel and brandishing it. “Noona, do you want to help me? We’ll finish faster that way.”

Nodding, you pull another towel out from the drawer and rejoin the two boys at the sink. Jungkook washes quickly and efficiently, and you determinedly avoid staring at the way water trickles along the patchwork veins on his hands as he gives you bowl after bowl to dry.

It doesn’t take long for all the dishes to be washed and dried. The three of you take the time to put them back into the proper cabinets before bidding your parents a good night, heading out onto the back porch. Falling back into old routines feels like second nature, so you plop down onto the steps without hesitation and grin when Jungkook takes a seat beside you.

“Wait, I almost forgot!” Jimin exclaims, bouncing up from where he was beginning to sit down next to Jungkook. “I bought some beer earlier and left it in the trunk. Be right back!”

You watch your brother run off, his floppy blond hair a stark contrast with the deep blue evening sky. In seconds, he’s disappeared around the corner of the house, leaving you and Jungkook alone on the porch steps.

“Chim really hasn’t changed one bit,” you remark with a laugh, turning toward your dark-haired companion.

Jungkook chuckles. “The kid loves his alcohol, that’s for sure.”

“Please.” You elbow him in the ribs. “I know you’re just as bad as he is.”

“Maybe,” he concedes with another chuckle. “But come on, Noona, you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy a drink every now and then. What about all that college stress?”

You hum, leaning back on your hands and staring up at the sky where the full moon is just beginning to rise, surrounded by a smattering of stars peeking through the velvety darkness of night. “I never said that I didn’t enjoy a drink, or five.” Jungkook laughs at your remark, and you smile before letting out a soft sigh. “I’m glad Jimin got the beer, though. Maybe I’ll finally be able to stop stressing out about my internship.”

That sobers Jungkook up immediately, his eyes widening as he peers down at you and lays a gentle hand on your back. “Are you still worried? You already got the job, didn’t you?”

You nod slowly, thinking back to the job offer that you had accepted at the end of the semester. It had been difficult finding a company in your desired field that offered internships to first-year students, but with dogged persistence and a lot of luck, you’d managed to snag a summer position. It isn’t due to start for another three weeks, however, and while you’re grateful for the chance to visit your family, part of you also wishes that you didn’t have to wait such a long time. “I just have no idea what to expect, you know? The only jobs I’ve ever had were in retail and food service, and that was all ages ago. I don’t feel ready at all.”

A strong arm settles across your shoulders, and you look up to see Jungkook gazing down at you with something indiscernible sparkling in his deep brown eyes. “You’re gonna be amazing,” he murmurs, his voice whisper-soft. “You know that, right? You always are. This won’t be any different.”

And you believe him. Every detail of his face is bathed in silvery moonlight—the gentle slope of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw, the little scar high on his cheekbone—and you wonder how you never realized how handsome he is before now. And maybe it’s the low, soothing timbre of his voice, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you—with unspeakable tenderness and gentle affection glimmering in his irises—but you lean in before you can even realize what you’re doing. You don’t look away, and neither does he.

Jungkook’s gaze drops, trailing down the slope of your cheeks until it lands on the curve of your mouth. He hesitates for a split second, his throat bobbing harshly as he swallows and sucks in a breath.

And then his lips are pressing against yours—soft and tentative and just a little bit chapped. Your eyes flutter shut almost on instinct, your body relaxing as he shifts and pulls you a little more firmly against him. Slowly, his arm finds its way to the curve of your waist and settles there. Your fingers curl around his nape, carding through his silky hair.

It’s only when Jungkook’s tongue darts out to run along the seam of your lips that reality comes crashing back down, your stomach plummeting down to somewhere around your toes as you wrench away from his embrace. “Kookie!” you gasp, your breathing labored. “We can’t!”

Jungkook blinks, momentarily entrancing you with the way the stars reflect in his gaze like glittering diamonds. “Why not?” he asks, reaching out for you again. “You kissed me back, didn’t you?”

Squeaking, you bat his hands away. “Jungkook, no! We can’t! You’re Jimin’s best friend, and god, this is all kinds of weird, and—“

The dark-haired young man looks like he wants to protest more, but the sound of footsteps coming back around the house sends both of you scooting back to your original positions on the porch steps. Jimin appears two seconds later, plopping down beside Jungkook cheerfully and dropping a six-pack of beer at his feet.

“What’d I miss?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to the tension lingering in the air as he pops open a bottle and hands it to you.

“Nothing,” you say immediately, accepting the proffered beer. The cool glass bottle is a welcome relief, and you hurriedly take a long sip when your mind unwillingly begins to wander back to just how warm and soft your dark-haired companion’s lips had been.

Jungkook is much slower to respond to Jimin’s question. His shoulders slump as he reaches down to grab a drink of his own, twisting the cap open viciously and taking a swig. “Yeah,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nothing at all.”

Luck must be on your side, because Jimin doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss as he grabs a beer for himself and flops backward, resting his weight on his elbows as he gazes up at the night sky. “It’s nice out,” he remarks, looking utterly at ease.

You are anything but. Beside you, Jungkook is sipping pensively on his beer, and you are painfully aware of the heat radiating off his body. Jimin is still chattering away, rambling about whatever pops into his head, and you take the opportunity to sneak a glance at Jungkook. His face is cast in silvery luminescence from the moon, his mouth pulled down into a deep, contemplative frown—and you are once again forced to shake off thoughts of how nice it felt to have his mouth pressed against yours.

This is Jeon Jungkook, you tell yourself sternly. Friend, neighbor, and Jimin’s best friend in the entire universe. You kissed him, sure, but it was a mistake. A moment of weakness. And it won’t happen again.

You repeat that over and over, silently reciting it in your head like a mantra, until, at last, you finally start to believe it.

///

You’re in the middle of brewing a fresh pot of coffee after a lazy morning spent sleeping in when you spot Jungkook outside through the kitchen window. He’s standing in the yard in a sleeveless white tee, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand as he thoughtfully regards the row of hedges that serves as the property line between your house and the Jeons’ house next door. In his other hand is a shovel, and you can’t help the way your gaze automatically traces his exposed biceps, admiring the way they flex when he finally selects a spot and begins digging.

“Is the coffee done yet, Noona?”

Jimin’s voice yanks your attention away from your gardening neighbor, your vision overtaken by a mess of fluffy blond bedhead as he sneaks into the space between you and the counter and obnoxiously cuts you off from the pot of fresh brew. “Hey!” you protest, but Jimin just gives you a cheeky wink before grabbing a mug and pouring out a generous helping of piping hot coffee. After a moment’s thought, he pours you a mug as well, handing it over with an exaggerated bow.

You roll your eyes, but accept the warm cup nonetheless. Following him into the living room, you make yourself comfortable on the couch as he flops down onto the carpeted floor and turns on the television. Idly, he begins flipping through the channels in search for something to watch, and you endure random snippets of the morning news, a cheesy soap opera, and a series of infomercials before sighing and rising to your feet again. “I’m getting some food. Want some toast, Chimchim?”

“Mmm. Sure.”

Slowly, you meander your way back into the kitchen. Your mother is standing at the counter stirring sugar into her coffee, and you smile as you walk up to join her. “Morning, Mom.”

“Good morning, sweetie,” she says, taking a careful sip of her drink. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log,” you reply with a grin. Grabbing the loaf of bread off the counter, you pull out a few slices and shove them in the toaster. “Do you want toast? I’m making some for me and Chimchim.”

“Just one slice for me,” she says, opening up the dish cabinet and pulling out three plates. Obligingly, you hand her one of the two freshly toasted slices and drop the other onto your plate. Popping some more bread into the toaster, you’re just about to grab the jam from the fridge when there’s a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Jimin yells from the living room. You hear the soft pad of his footsteps in the hallway and the low creak of the front door as it swings open—and then your brother is snorting out a laugh at whoever is on your doorstep. “Dude, why are you covered in dirt?”

You’re beginning to have a sneaking suspicion as to who your guest is, and it’s confirmed when your brother’s question is answered.

“I’m helping Mom plant some hydrangeas out back,” Jungkook’s voice explains, his tall figure stepping into view a moment later. “Can you come help me lift the bushes?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You could’ve just texted me.”

“Who knows if you would’ve answered?” Jungkook asks, laughing. “Knowing you, you’d just leave me on read. Besides—” and here he glances over at you, dark eyes glimmering with an emotion that you can’t quite pinpoint, “—I wouldn’t get to see two of my favorite ladies if I didn’t stop by.”

Jimin pretends to vomit at the line, but your mother laughs delightedly as Jungkook takes another step into the foyer and flashes her a winning grin. “Good morning, Jungkookie,” she greets him. “Have you eaten breakfast yet? {Name} was just making some toast, and we’ve got fresh coffee.”

Jungkook’s gaze slides over to you again, taking in the flannel pajama pants and oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. “Thanks, Mrs. Park,” he says, though his eyes never leave yours. “I ate already, but coffee sounds wonderful.”

You are beginning to feel increasingly vulnerable as Jungkook continues looking unblinkingly in your direction. Thankfully, your mom pipes up, drawing his attention away with a decisive clap of her hands. “Coffee it is, then!” she says brightly. “{Name}, why don’t you grab Jungkook a cup?”

Hurriedly, you turn toward the cabinets, trying your best to ignore Jungkook as he chats comfortably with your family. Your success is limited though, and you can feel his penetrating stare lingering on your back even as you fetch a mug and fill it up to the brim.

“Noona.” Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, much closer than you remember him being. “Can I have some cream and sugar, please?”

Somehow, you manage to reply without stammering. “Yeah. Sure.” Dumping some of the excess coffee into the sink, you spoon in some sugar and give it a quick stir. Just as you turn toward the refrigerator for the cream, a strong arm cuts you off.

“I got it, Noona,” Jungkook murmurs, backing you up against the counter as he tucks the little white carton into your outstretched hand. His proximity has your heart skipping several beats, and you almost drop the carton entirely when he speaks again in a husky whisper, his mouth at the shell of your ear. “Just a little bit, please.”

You are acutely aware of the heat radiating off of his body, warming your back and flushing your cheeks. Quietly, you open up the carton and pour a splash of cream into his mug, the swirl of white melding with the dark liquid within. “Is—is that enough?”

Jungkook reaches around you to open up the silverware drawer, grabbing a spoon and giving the coffee a stir. “That’s perfect,” he purrs, his hot breath stirring gooseflesh on the back of your neck.

This close to him, it’s easy to forget where you are and who you’re with, but you somehow manage to regain enough of your senses to wrench away and reclaim your personal space. “G-great,” you stammer, picking up the mug and shoving it into his hands, determinedly ignoring the ripple of his arm muscles as he accepts. “Um. Chim. Did you want your toast?”

“Yes, please,” Jimin says, barely glancing up from where he’s made himself comfortable at the kitchen island, idly playing on his phone.

Your mother pokes her head around the doorframe of the adjoining laundry room, where she has clearly started a fresh load if the sound of splashing water is anything to go by. “Don’t make your sister do all of the work, Jimin. Go help her—it’s your food, isn’t it?”

Obligingly, Jimin hops off the stool and grabs his favorite jar of jam, joining you at the counter. He takes the slice of toast you offer him, slathering it messily and taking an enormous bite. “Thanks for breakfast, Noona,” he says, blowing you an exaggerated kiss. “Ready, Kook?”

Jungkook raises his mug of coffee in acknowledgement. “Ready.” Then his gaze flickers back to you, twinkling with silent mirth. “And Noona—thanks. The coffee’s delicious.”

You can’t find the words to answer. Silently, you watch him disappear out the front door with Jimin, following his dark head of hair as it bobs across the yard. His biceps flex as he gestures for Jimin to help him lift a hydrangea bush, and your eyes linger on the stretch of defined muscle, tracing the network of prominent veins running along his forearm before your brain can caution you to stop. It’s almost as if you’re on autopilot, and by the time you zone back in, your gaze has wandered too far south for your liking. Letting out an audible groan, you tear your eyes away from the mouthwatering view of his thick thighs and return to your now-cold breakfast. And you don’t think about Jeon Jungkook again, pushing the image of his broad shoulders and handsome face into the darkest recesses of your mind.

Or at least, that was the plan. Jimin comes back inside after about an hour, tracking mud through half the house before your mother reprimands him and orders him to take off his shoes. Jungkook, thankfully, chose to return to his own home as well, and you immediately banish the thought of him showering off all the sweat and grime that has no doubt accumulated on his toned body. You shove away the mental image of water slicking his golden skin and collecting in the hollows of his collarbones, and when your mind conjures up pictures of what lies south of his waist, you resist the urge to scream into the pile of freshly laundered pillowcases your mom presses into your arms.

You’re just about to head upstairs to scream into a real pillow when there’s another knock on your front door—a familiar cadence that you heard just this morning. And that’s when you realize—to your complete and utter dismay—that Jeon Jungkook isn’t done tormenting you yet. Not by a long shot.

“You again? You do realize that this isn’t your house, right?” you ask, swinging open the door and thanking whatever gods may be out there that your voice remains steady. Then you raise a brow, glancing down at his change in attire. “Wait, why are you wearing a suit?”

Jungkook gives you an infuriatingly impish grin. “Do I need a reason?” His hair is still damp from the shower, a stray lock flopping down across his forehead, and as you watch him brush it away absently, you notice that he’s holding something in his free hand.

“What’s that?” you ask curiously.

Footsteps sound from behind you, interrupting before he can answer. “Jungkookie?” your mother asks, appearing at the foot of the stairs. “I thought I heard your voice. Are you here for Jimin again?”

Jungkook flashes her a winning smile and raises the garment bag he’s holding. “No, I was actually hoping to get some advice. I’ve got my suit ready to go for graduation tomorrow, but I can’t decide which shirt looks better. My mom likes how I look in blue, but I wanted a second opinion from you and Noona.”

To your utter annoyance, your mother coos and gestures for him to come in. He’s already wearing the blue shirt—a pale periwinkle one that reminds you of a cloudless day—but your mom takes the garment bag out of his hand and unzips it to look inside. “What are your options?” she asks.

“Blue, red, and yellow,” Jungkook replies, pulling each shirt off its hanger and holding them up to his chest in turn. “What do you think, Mrs. Park?”

“The blue is lovely,” your mom says thoughtfully, straightening his collar. “But this shade of yellow looks nice too. A handsome young man like you—you really can’t go wrong with any of these.”

Jungkook grins and scratches behind his ear, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Thanks, Mrs. Park.”

The dryer chooses that moment to beep shrilly, signalling the end of its cycle, and your mother darts off to tend to it, leaving you and Jungkook alone in the living room.

“What about you, Noona?” Jungkook asks, just as you’re about to try and sneak out under the pretense of helping with the laundry. “Which shirt do you like?”

“Does it matter?” you ask. “It’s just going to be hidden underneath those horrible black trash bags they make you wear.”

He laughs. “Sure, but what about before and after? You know my mom’s going to want to take a million pictures.”

“Can’t argue there.” Resigning yourself to your fate, you put your stack of clean pillowcases down on the arm of the couch and cross your arms over your chest. “Show them to me again?”

Jungkook raises the yellow shirt, holding it up for a few seconds before swapping it out for the red. “Well?”

You pause to consider it. “Red,” you decide after some deliberation, pointing at your choice. It’s a deep crimson color—almost burgundy—and you rub the silky material between your fingertips before taking it and replacing it onto its hanger. Jungkook joins you with the yellow shirt, his arm bumping into yours as you both reach for the garment bag, and even though you flinch away from the contact, Jungkook doesn’t let you stray very far. A strong hand clamps down around your forearm, and you inhale sharply when he backs you up against the wall and cages you in with his solid body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Jungkook looks thoroughly unfazed as he blinks a few loose strands of hair out of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Jungkook—” you hiss, struggling to see over his shoulder if your mother has returned. “Get off me.”

“Come on, Noona,” Jungkook murmurs. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me. Ever since you got back—ever since we kissed—”

“A mistake,” you say, cutting him off with a finger to the lips and glancing around furtively to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “That was a mistake.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Was it? Because I really wanted to kiss you, and I’m pretty sure you wanted to kiss me too. You kissed back, didn’t you?”

“Y-you—“ You clear your throat and try again, cringing at how shaky your voice comes out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But Jungkook simply laughs. “Don’t I?” He inches closer until you’re chest to chest, his gaze darkening as it flickers downward and lands on your mouth. Your heartbeat quickens, thudding erratically in your ribcage. It would be so easy to push to your tiptoes and close the distance between your lips.

“God,” you huff. “You’re so—”

His other eyebrow rises to join the first. “I’m so—?” he presses, tilting his head as he awaits your answer. The loose lock of hair flops across his forehead again, and this time you cannot stop yourself from reaching up to brush it away.

“Shut up,” you hiss as your fingers drop down to wind into the soft hair at his nape. “Just shut up.”

And then you’re kissing him—really, really kissing him—pulling him down to your level and sliding your free hand up his infuriatingly toned chest.

“See?” Jungkook’s lips curl up into a smug smirk as he pulls away slightly, his warm breath fanning across your cheeks with every word. “I knew you were into me.”

“God, do you ever stop talking?” you retort, pushing him back until you have enough room to switch your positions and maneuver him against the wall.

Jungkook lets you pin him in place, blinking down at you lazily with his mouth still stretched into that maddening little smirk. “Only if you make me, Noona.” His hands slide down your sides, coming to a stop at your hips in an ironclad grip. “Only if you kiss me like that again.”

So you do. Your fingers tighten in his hair as you crush your mouth to his, and when his lips part you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook—still smirking—relaxes and lets you take control of the kiss, but his hands continue to wander. Before you know it, he’s already snuck underneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing warm circles into the soft skin of your waist. His lips move languidly against yours, his tongue careful and gentle in its exploration of your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you closer. You’re pressed flush against him by this point, pinning him between your body and the wall, and neither you nor he have any intent to move anytime soon.

The sudden slamming of a door jerks you back to reality. Here you are, standing in the living room where anyone could walk by and see you kissing your brother’s best friend—again. Shakily, you pull away from Jungkook with your heart in your throat, putting as much space as you possibly can between your bodies. “Fuck,” you mutter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. We can’t do this.”

Jungkook’s chest is heaving, his lips swollen and red. “{Name}—” he tries, but you shake your head and cut him off before he can continue.

“You need to leave,” you whisper.

“But—”

“Please,” you say, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. “Please, Jungkook. Just leave.”

Jungkook swallows, hard. And then, much to your relief, he picks up his garment bag, shoving both shirts back inside. “Okay,” he rasps. “I’ll go.”

Elsewhere in the house, you can hear your mother calling for Jimin. Your father is watching TV in his study—you can hear the low hum of voices and a laugh track. Your entire family is here.

And yet, you’ve never felt more alone as you watch Jungkook stride down the hallway and disappear out the front door.

///

Returning to your high school is odd. The hallways and classrooms are familiar, but they all seem smaller than you remember. And were the ceilings always this short? You aren’t sure. What you are sure of, however, is that Jungkook and his family are currently headed your way, with beaming smiles on their faces and colorful flower bouquets in hand. Greetings and congratulations are exchanged, and it isn’t long before you are face-to-face with Jungkook himself, a tight smile on his face as he meets your eyes.

“Hi, Noona.”

“Hi,” you reply. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Now that the graduation ceremony is over, he’s taken off his robe to reveal the red shirt underneath. The silky material drapes over his torso and clings to the toned planes of his chest, and your fingers itch to run across the defined muscle. Swallowing down the urge, you instead gesture toward his parents, who are engaged in deep conversation with your own parents while Jimin chats with Junghyun off to the side. “I guess we’re all getting dinner after this, huh?”

He nods. “Yeah, at that one place downtow—“

“Jungkook! Jimin!” A feminine voice interrupts him mid-sentence, and you watch in surprise as both your brother and Jungkook are suddenly engulfed in a massive tangle of limbs. Immediately, you recognize Jisoo and Lisa—two girls you considered casual friends from your own high school days. The third girl in the trio of friends—Chaeyoung—is noticeably absent, but you don’t get a chance to question her whereabouts. “Can you believe it? We’re graduates!” Lisa is saying excitedly, still clutching tightly onto Jungkook’s shoulders. She’s pressed flush against him, her chest molded to his, and the sudden rush of jealousy that takes root in the pit of your stomach takes you aback with its ferocity.

Calm the fuck down, you instruct your pounding heart. Stop it, right now.

“Has Tae told you about the party tomorrow night?” Jisoo asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You guys better be there—and that means you, too, {Name}! It’s been forever since we’ve seen you!”

You clear your throat and attempt to smile. “Yeah, it’s been way too long. It’ll be nice to finally catch up.” Unwillingly, your gaze flickers back over to Jungkook and Lisa, doing your best to maintain a neutral expression when you notice the casual way his arm drapes over her shoulders.

Your attempts are in vain. Jungkook notices your stare immediately, a massive shit-eating grin spreading across his face. One eyebrow rises in a silent taunt, and you swear his grip around her tightens. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you instead turn back to Jisoo, finally voicing the question that’s on your mind.

“So, where’s Chaeyoung? I saw her during the ceremony, but haven’t seen her around since. She didn’t leave already, did she?”

“No, she’s still here,” Jisoo answers, exchanging a look with Lisa. Curiosity piqued, you watch her gaze dart over to Jungkook for a split second before returning to you, a tiny smile gracing her face once more. “She’s with her family right now, but she’ll be at the party tomorrow.”

“I’ll congratulate her there, then,” you say, returning her smile with one of her own. Silently, you wonder at the uneasy glance the two girls had exchanged, but decide not to press it, chalking it up to some senior year drama that isn’t any of your business.

“Well, we should probably get going,” Jisoo says after another beat. “We’re off to dinner.”

“We should be on our way too,” you agree, glancing over at where your parents are still chatting, having absorbed Junghyun into their conversation at some point. Bidding the two girls goodbye, you sidle over to join them, trying your best to subtly nudge your parents toward the door.

After what feels like an eternity, your parents finally decide that they’re ready for a change in scenery. The drive to the restaurant is blessedly short, much to the relief of your grumbling stomach, and you are more than grateful for the brief reprieve from Jungkook and his knowing smirk. It doesn’t last long, however, and you mentally brace yourself when you spot the Jeons’ car in the parking lot of the restaurant. Upon entering, you are quickly ushered to your reserved table where the Jeons are already waiting, and somehow in the shuffle you end up right between Jungkook and Junghyun, the former’s face dissolving into a satisfied grin as he watches you sit down.

Then he turns to Jimin, who’s seated on his other side. “Hey, man.”

You bristle at the blatant way he’s ignoring you. But two can play at that game, so you turn to Junghyun with a winning smile, laying a hand on his shoulder for good measure. The older Jeon brother is four years your senior, but despite the age difference, you’ve always gotten along well.

“Junghyun, I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been?”

The elder Jeon grins and leans in to give you a hug. “Good, good—work’s insane, but that’s old news. What about you? How’s school going so far?”

You can feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, hot and heavy. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle under the weight of it, and you resist the urge to shiver. Instead, you give Junghyun’s bicep a final squeeze before pulling away, steadfastly ignoring the way Jungkook lets out a disgruntled hiss from between his teeth.

“School is good,” you tell Junghyun. “I’m trying to get all my general requirements out of the way early, so my first semester wasn’t very interesting. I took some more focused classes in the second, though, which made things infinitely better.”

The elder Jeon laughs. “Guess that means you’re on the right track then, huh?”

“Guess so,” you reply, laughing right along with him.

The server stops by to take drink orders, and your parents take it upon themselves to order food for the table as well. You continue chatting amicably with Junghyun as the server returns with a tray of water, sodas, and soju; beside you, Jungkook does the same with Jimin. The only break in conversation comes when the server—a pretty girl with a chirpy voice and a nametag that reads ‘Mina’—leans over to set a glass of Coke down in front of Jungkook. He thanks her with a crooked smirk and a low purr of gratitude that has her cheeks flushing pink, and it’s all you can do not to gape at him like a fish. The flirtatious quirk of his lips, the seductive tone—it all comes far too naturally to him, and you wonder for a moment just where the old Jungkook has gone. The Jungkook you used to know stammered every time he had to talk to an unfamiliar girl, and had trouble looking even you in the eye despite having known you since grade school.

But now, he’s nowhere to be found. The young man sitting beside you remains as calm as can be, shifting his body toward Mina so that he can request a straw.

“Of course, here you go!” Mina’s gaze lingers on his hand as he accepts the proffered straw, eyes widening when his fingers brush against hers lightly.

“Fast service,” Jungkook remarks, his voice dipping into a low, indolent drawl. “I like that.”

Mina giggles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She’s clearly about to respond to him—flirt right back, undoubtedly—but your father stands up and taps his glass with a spoon before she can open her mouth. “I want to make a toast,” he says, and you send him a silent, heartfelt thank you when Mina wisely chooses to make herself scarce. “Congratulations to Jungkook and Jimin, our two rad grads!”

An audible groan rises up from your side of the table, where Jimin has buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god, Dad.”

“What?” your father asks innocently. “I really think you’re rad, grad!”

Jimin groans again, muffled by the sleeves of his jacket. “I want the earth to swallow me whole.”

Laughter all around. More toasts are given, and the bottles of soju scattered around the table slowly dwindle down to their last dregs. Junghyun picks up the one closest to him and fills up your glass for the fourth time, drawing a protesting whine from your lips as you try to cut him off. “Wait, that’s not fair! Pour some for yourself too!”

“Relax, we can always order more,” Junghyun says with a laugh, topping off your glass before glancing around to find Mina. Much to your irritation, she’s already headed your way, bearing loaded platters of meat and vegetables and wearing a bright smile that seems to only be directed to Jungkook.

“I hope you’re all hungry!” she chirps, coming to a stop between you and the subject of her affections. You swear she shoots you a dirty look over her shoulder before turning back to the table, her cheerful facade back in place as she smiles at Jungkook. “Where did you want me to put the meat?”

“Anywhere it’ll fit,” Jungkook tells her with a suggestive smirk, keeping his voice soft enough so that only you and she can hear.

Mina cannot hide her answering smile. Likewise, you cannot hide the way your nostrils flare, throat bobbing as you swallow down the ugly feelings bubbling up in your chest. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze roving across your skin, but you refuse to look at him, stubbornly facing the front as Mina distributes food around the table. As soon as she’s departed again—her fingers brushing across the back of Jungkook’s chair in the process—you’re up and out of your seat, heart beating faster than you’d like to admit.

“Restroom,” you say shortly by way of explanation. It’s thankfully empty when you arrive, and you immediately make a beeline toward the sink to splash some cold water on your cheeks.

It’s absurd—this snaking jealousy coiling in your belly and winding up between the slats of your ribcage. Straightening up, you give your reflection in the mirror a stern look, silently willing the feelings in your chest to abate. Gradually, your heartbeat slows into a regular rhythm, your cheeks cooling, and after waiting another two minutes, you decide that it’s been long enough. Drying off your hands, you exit the restroom and wind your way back to the table, keeping your pace leisurely even when Jungkook looks up and catches your eye. His expression is unreadable, and you valiantly ignore his burning gaze as you take a seat.

“How is everything?” you ask Junghyun, picking up a spoon and piling your plate with food from the nearest platter.

Junghyun pauses mid-bite to answer. His mouth opens, but you don’t catch his answer because there is a sudden, heavy weight on your knee. A warm palm caresses the skin exposed by the hem of your dress, slow and sensual and deliberate. Your eyes widen and your lips part, but no sound escapes. The rest of the table’s occupants fade away into the background, conversations and laughter dulling into a low drone. Beside you, Junghyun is still talking, but all you can hear is blood rushing through your ears.

And on your other side, Jungkook is smirking.

The bastard.

Gentle fingertips skim along your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Your entire body stiffens, but Jungkook refuses to relent. He’s still chatting with Jimin, chuckling at a joke you didn’t hear, and you wonder how he can remain so calm when you are anything but. Your heart takes off in a sprint, clattering wildly against your ribcage, and for a few moments you are absolutely positive that everyone at the table can hear. Any moment, one of your parents will look over and see how wide your eyes are and how warm your cheeks feel. Any moment, Jimin will look down and see his best friend’s arm snaking beneath the table and realize what’s happening.

And then Jungkook squeezes your thigh, and all thought flies out of your head, dissipating like fog in the sunlight. He’s growing increasingly bold, his fingers trailing up until he can trace the hem of your dress, teasing at the soft material. Your breath hitches in your throat, and Jungkook’s smirk widens. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, trying to hide his smugness behind his soju glass, and for a moment you’re tempted to throw his drink in his face.

But more than that—more than anything else right now—you want him to continue touching you.

He’s sliding beneath your dress now, inching down to the delicate skin of your inner thigh and tracing nonsensical patterns there. You grip the edge of the table as he trails closer and closer to the lace of your panties, knuckles turning white against the dark wood. It’s a wonder no one has noticed your flustered state yet, and you cast concerned glances at Junghyun and Jimin before Jungkook notices your inattention. Punishingly, he slides a single finger into your panties, snapping the lace against your skin and covering the sound with a cough that he buries in his elbow. He can’t hide the way you jolt in your seat though, your knee thudding against the table. Junghyun gives you a worried look, laying a hand on your shoulder as he asks if you’re okay, and you hurriedly nod. And underneath the table, Jungkook resumes his ministrations, languorous and soft and deliberately avoiding the place you need him most, as if he has all the time in the world.

There’s a growing damp spot between your legs. You can feel it seeping through the cottony material of your panties, sticking uncomfortably to your folds. Jungkook’s touch is whisper-soft, caressing along your thigh until your skin is tingling, and it’s all you can do to swallow down the whimper that’s bubbling up in your throat. He’s thoroughly enjoying this—you can tell—and you’re certain he can feel the way you tense up when he suddenly drags a single finger up your clothed slit. A low hiss escapes your parted lips, and in an instant, all eyes are on you.

“Noona?” Jimin asks curiously. “Something wrong?”

“I—” Your mind whirs, searching for an excuse. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. The, uh, sauce was just spicier than I was expecting it to be.”

You haven’t touched a single thing on your plate in minutes, but no one seems to notice your obvious lie. Conversation resumes, and you determinedly pick up your spoon again, intent on getting something more substantial in your belly than the fluttering butterflies that have taken up residence there.

“You sure you want to eat that, Noona?” Jungkook’s voice reaches your ears—a low, dulcet purr that sends electricity shooting down your spine. “You should probably drink some water to cool down.”

And before you can answer—before you even manage to reach for your water glass—he’s slipped his hand into your panties, the warm pad of his thumb pressing experimentally against your clit. The slight pressure has you gasping, your heart pounding hard enough to leap out of your chest as you drop your spoon. Your hands drop down to your lap—one gripping the edge of your chair while the other finds its way around Jungkook’s wrist, and you aren’t sure whether you’re trying to stop him or spur him on. His arm muscles flex underneath your fingertips, and that’s all the warning you get before he angles his hand, a lone finger sinking inside your drenched entrance.

“Oh, fuck.” You can’t stop the strangled curse that escapes your lips, an airy hiss from behind clenched teeth. Your grip on Jungkook’s wrist tightens, but it doesn’t seem to dissuade him at all as he begins a leisurely pace, sinking deeper into your cunt with each thrust.

Luckily, no one hears your whimper. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you bite back the sounds threatening to spill out and instead focus on maintaining as neutral an expression as you can muster. Beneath the table, Jungkook remains relentless. Even when your mother looks over and addresses him directly, he doesn’t cease his ministrations, keeping both his tone and his pace even as he responds.

“Jungkookie, you’ve barely touched your pork belly. Are you full already?”

“Stuffed,” Jungkook replies smoothly. He punctuates the word by adding a second finger, and you almost bang your knee on the table again, your eyes going wide at his audacity.

Your mother pushes the platter of meat closer to him anyway. “No need to be polite, honey. Here, eat up.”

Obligingly, Jungkook picks out a few pieces with his free hand and piles them on his plate. “Thanks, Mrs. Park,” he says as he brings some to his mouth. “It’s delicious.”

Satisfied, your mother turns her attention elsewhere. Jungkook returns his to you, and you almost groan aloud when his thumb brushes against your clit again, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud before he sheathes both fingers inside you once more. There’s a growing heat coiling in the pit of your stomach by this point, lighting every single one of your nerves on fire. Your body is screaming for release, and Jungkook seems more than eager to give it to you. He’s freed his wrist from your grip, leaving you to clutch helplessly at the table as he angles his fingers upward. No doubt he’s searching for the spot that will have you seeing stars, and you know he’s found it when a sudden burst of pleasure spikes through you. Your mouth falls lax, and Jungkook grins, thoroughly satisfied.

There’s something building inside you, something that has your tummy tensing and your toes curling in your shoes. Jungkook’s fingers dig deep, his palm rubbing against your clit with every thrust, and it takes every remaining ounce of your self-control to resist the urge to rock your hips into his hand. A bit more of that delicious friction, and you’ll be falling over the edge. You know it, and so does Jungkook if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

And then a voice is pulling you back to reality, a warm hand settling on your shoulder. You flinch at the contact, your startled gaze flying up to Junghyun’s, and balk when you see him staring at you with equal parts amusement and concern.

“I—what?” you stammer. “Did… did you say something?”

Beneath the table, you feel Jungkook’s fingers retreat, leaving you empty and aching for release. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook wipe his glistening hand on his napkin, a frown that can only be described as petulant settling onto his face.

“Whoa, relax!” Junghyun drags your attention back to him, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I just wanted to say goodbye. I have to be up early for work tomorrow, so I’m driving back into the city tonight.”

“Oh!” It takes you a few seconds to process his words. “Right, yeah. Have a safe drive back. It was good to see you.”

“Ditto,” he replies, flashing you a warm grin. “But hey, are you all right? You’ve been a little weird the whole night. Was it the food?”

Gratefully, you seize upon the excuse. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I think maybe something isn’t sitting quite right in my stomach, but I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it.”

He nods and leans in for a hug. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“You too. Bye, Junghyun.”

With the elder Jeon brother’s departure, everyone else quickly decides that it’s time to disperse as well. You adamantly refuse to look in Jungkook’s direction as your parents fight over the bill, focusing your goodbyes on Mr. and Mrs. Jeon even when he glances your way with a knowing little smirk and a soft murmur of, “Bye, Noona.”

You can’t look at him. Not when every movement reminds you just how damp your panties are, your core begging for relief. Not when he’s waggling his fingers in farewell—the gesture anything but innocent. “Bye,” you warble weakly, before fleeing to the car.

The memory of his fingers burns fresh in your mind later that night as you lie in bed, your hand stuffed down your panties and working furiously to find that sweet, sweet relief.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #kpop scenarios #brother's best friend!au #brother's best friend au #lia writes

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foodieforthoughts · 3 years

Note

Hiii, i love your blog and your writing style so i’m gonna make a request if you don’t mind: we often see Cap Sy being jealous of the reader, but what if sometimes is the other way around? like the reader being jealous of one of sy female ‘coworker’ because they have their work in common and they get along, and then Sy notices it and is all reassuring and stuff🥺🥺

Hey Anon bean. It was going to be this drabble for Mondays with Sy, but Henry's IG post distracted me. But here it is. 😁 And thank you so much for the request and for enjoying my work. I'm super soft today and everything is super fluffy. Hope you like it ❤️

Warning: So much fluff! 🥰

Title: Edge of Paradise

You tried really hard not to stare but the moment her hand touched your Captain's arm, you couldn't keep your cool. He seemed unhinged by the touch, continuing with his conversation like nothing had happened. But you knew the familiar flick of the woman's hair, the way she looked at Sy under her lashes and how her voice got a little higher when she laughed at his joke.

Involuntarily, you crumbled the piece of paper in your hand and threw it at the dustbin. Adjusting your apron around your waist, you went back to cleaning the bar top, wiping the pristine surface harder than necessary. The pub was alive with the usual Saturday night crowd of the the several army men living in the area around camp. Syverson had texted you he'll be there with his boys and would later drive you home after your shift.

But after the customary hello and a chivalrous peck on your cheek, he had gone off to mingle with his friends and her.

Tall, athletic and charismatic Lieutenant Gemma was everything you weren't. You often saw her with the men, boisterous and flirty, many a times singling out with Sy. It irked you sometimes when you saw her flirting with your man and hated that she had more things in common with him than you'll ever have. Sy was not a man to be unfaithful, you trusted him, but the thought still worried you when they were deployed together in a foreign land. You tried not to bring it up because you were afraid to come off as clingy and jealous. But when you saw them together, like right now when they were clinking their beer bottles and laughing with their peers, it pricked at your heart and made you wonder if you'll ever be enough.

"You're awfully quiet," Sy broke the silence in the car. You had been staring out the window, mind preoccupied with conflicting thoughts and self doubt. "Everything alright there, babe?" He asked, placing his hand on your knee.

You sighed. Looking down at your hands clasped in your lap, you quietly voiced your concern. "Do I make you happy?"

"Of course, darlin'. You make me very happy." He squeezed your knee, looking at you before turning his attention back to the road. Another moment of silence stretched between the two of you, only the rumble of the car's engine filling in the space as you drove down the busy road. Sy cleared his throat, grabbing your attention. "Does this have to do anything with the Lieutenant? I saw you looking at us."

You felt your cheeks heat up. You looked at him wide-eyed, opening and closing your mouth to form words in your defense but getting none out. Sy glanced at you again before veering the car to the side and parking it under a streetlight.

Turning in his seat to look at you, giving you his whole attention, Sy looked at you expectantly. Under his gaze you felt tiny, miniscule, like a little girl being caught red handed eyeing the forbidden candy jar. You brought your eyes back to staring at your hands which were clammy with anxious sweat.

"What's on your mind, darlin'?" Sy placed his finger underneath your chin and turned your face to him. "Tell me."

"Do you... ever want someone who's more like... You?"

Sy scrunched his face in confusion. "What?"

Biting your lower lip, you took a moment to calm your thumping heart. You were finally going to put your insecurities in front of the man you loved. You dreaded it, but also knew it was necessary for the peace of your mind. "Someone like her? Who knows and understand what you do? Do you regret being with a simple bartender like me?"

You watched as Sy's eyes softened. He tenderly smiled at you, reaching for your hands and taking them in his, not caring about your sweaty palms.

"You are not just a simple bartender, babe. You are extraordinary, in every way. I don't think about being with anyone but you." Bringing one hand to gently caress your cheek, Sy leaned forward and looked deeply in your eyes. Under the soft glow of the streetlight streaming in, Sy's azure eyes glistened like crystals, making you drown in them like the first time you had met him. "The only thing I regret is havin' not met you sooner."

Your eyes welled with tears when Sy's lips touched yours. They were soft against yours, reassuring you of his love. It had taken you only eleven days and two dates to realize you had fallen for the Captain and in Sy's words he had been "gone for good" from the moment he had sat at the bar and you had served him his drink.

Breaking the kiss, Sy sat back in his seat and only stared at you with a smile. He still had your hands in his, grasping at your fingers delicately.

"Okay," Sy said more to himself than you. "I guess I don't have to wait any longer."

"What?" You asked, watching as he proceeded to climb out of the car. You looked at him puzzled as he rounded the front to reach your side and held your door open. Taking his outstretched hand and jumping out of his truck, you followed him to stand in front of the car.

Taking a deep breath, Sy suddenly got down on one knee and fished out a blue box from his back pocket. Your clasped your hands over your open mouth, stunned and astonished at the turn of events. You took a staggered step behind, bringing your hand to place on the warm hood of the car, supporting your body as your legs turned to jelly. Your heartbeat rang in your ears as your entire body heated up, watching the love of your life kneeling down in front of you. Several cars drove by on the road with someone shouting "Say yes!" as they passed by you.

With a cheeky grin under his thick beard, Sy opened the box with the ring shining brilliantly inside. "I swear I'll ask again in a much romantic way." Taking out the ring and holding it up to you, Sy smiled. "Will you marry me, darlin'? Complete me?"

Not able to control any more of the tears that had been threatening to overflow, you cried as you nodded your head and managed to stutter a "Yes". Sy stood up and placed the ring on your finger, smiling from ear to ear as you flung your body at his outstretched arms. You buried your face in his shoulder, wetting his hoodie with your tears as he held you tightly against him.

"You don't have to worry about anything now. I'm all yours. You're the only one I ever want." Sy whispered before he twirled you around, laughing as you squealed with glee and pulled your face in a for breathtakingly passionate kiss.

#ask foodie #anon asks #captain syverson #Captain Syverson fanfic #captain syverson fluff #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic

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lafiametta · 3 years

Text

@trassellynn asked for “kids.” In honor of my official start to summer (now that grades have been turned in, whoo hoo), I went with a teachers AU — I hope that’s okay!

By the time the final bell had rung, Nina was more than ready to vault over her desk and make a dash for the exit, mentally calculating how many students she’d have to push out of the way to get there.

Luckily, common sense prevailed and she dismissed them with a plastered-on smile and a refrain of “Have a great summer!” The last day of school always felt like this: a flurry of last-minute activity, followed by a pummeling wave of exhaustion once it was finally over. Nina mustered the energy to pack up most of her papers and books and was headed towards the parking lot when she ran into Inej.

Inej—or Ms. Ghafa, as she was known to the students and to most of the administrators—was Nina’s best friend at work, and arguably her real-life best friend, too.

“You headed home?”

Nina nodded. “I’m going to pass out on my couch and stay there for the next three days. Feel free to periodically send supplies.”

“Only if it’s the kind I can put tiny umbrellas in,” Inej said, raising her hand up to shield her eyes as they stepped out into the mid-afternoon sun.

The parking lot was mostly empty by this point; most of the students and teachers had already cleared out, leaving just a handful of cars.

Inej paused, nodding in the direction of Nina’s car. “Coach McHottie, eleven o’clock.”

Nina glanced over as discreetly as possible, catching sight of a tall, square-shouldered man standing by the car next to hers. The nickname, of course, was because they didn’t actually know his real name, only that he had been working there since March, hired to coach wrestling or lacrosse or some other sport that Nina knew existed but couldn’t possibly attempt to explain. Aside from the height and the shoulders, he also possessed the kind of Nordic good looks that only seemed to be found within the pages of an outdoor apparel catalogue, that straight jaw ending in the world’s most perfectly dimpled chin.

“Think I should go introduce myself?”

“In a word, yes!” Inej practically snapped at her, and then gave Nina a little shove in the direction of the mystery Adonis. “Call me later,” she mouthed, a wicked grin on her face as she backed away and left Nina to make her move entirely solo.

Nina took a steadying breath and made her way over to where he was standing; at the very least she could make it look like she was going to her car, which just happened to be parked right next to his. As she got closer, though, she could see why he was standing there, staring: down the side of his Jeep ran a gigantic scrape, spanning the length of the front door and the fender.

“Wow,” she said, slightly impressed at how terrible it looked. “Someone was trying to get out of here in a hurry.”

He spun around at the sound, a pair of sky blue eyes coming to rest on hers.

“Do you know who did this?” It came out slightly accusatory, but there was no hiding the deep timbre of his voice, complete with the delicious hint of a foreign accent.

Nina shook her head. “No clue. I could probably give you the obvious suspects, though.” She took a few steps forward, ostensibly to view the damage up close. “There are a couple of juniors whose licenses should definitely be revoked. And there’s that Milo kid...” She shrugged, not knowing what else to tell him. “But without any witnesses, I think you might be out of luck.”

He didn’t say anything, but continued to stand there, looking utterly defeated.

“Here,” she said, and began to dig in her purse, finally fishing out a slightly creased business card that she extended to him. “That’s my mechanic. Tell him my name and he’ll give you a good deal.”

He turned towards her, as if for the first time really noticing she was there. The blue eyes were focused on her again, but this time with a gleam of curiosity.

“And what name should I give him?” he asked as he reached for the card, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing against hers.

“Oh,” she replied, feeling herself start to blush. She almost never blushed. “Nina. Nina Zenik.” She glanced back in the direction of the school. “I teach language.”

“Which one?”

“All of them.” She smiled, knowing how ridiculous it sounded, but it was true: depending on the year, she taught French, Spanish, Russian, and occasionally Latin. She spoke a few others, too, but they weren’t offered as part of the curriculum.

“Impressive,” he said, giving her a tiny nod of his head. “Snakker du norsk?”

“Noen,” she shrugged. “Min svenske er bedre.”

He laughed heartily, his mouth widening into a massive grin. It was like watching the sun come out; if she hadn’t seen it up close, she wouldn’t have imagined that he could laugh like that.

“Matthias Helvar.” He held out his hand and she took it, warm and solid as it enveloped her own.

“It’s nice to make your acquaintance,” she said, lost a little in that wide blue gaze and, at the moment, possessing no immediate interest in being found. She finally managed to pull away, turning back to take in the original scene of the crime.

Matthias sighed and slipped the business card into his pocket, the hint of a smile still dimpling his cheek. “Now, tell me about this Milo...”

[send me a one-word Helnik prompt]

#helnik #nina zenik #matthias helvar #shadow and bone #six of crows #fanfiction #helnik fic #trassellynn #and if my norwegian is off please let me know #i'm relying on google and we all know how well that works

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norarigby · 3 years

Text

Sway

Pairing: Atsumu x reader

Warnings: fluff, slightly suggestive themes at the end.

Word count: 2k

A/n: I’m actually really proud of this one...I hope it makes sense 😅

It takes two to tango. The dance has to be reciprocated between two people. Each member must contribute to the dance, otherwise it looked ridiculous. Imagine that: a tango with one person standing their while the other gives their all. It’d be ridiculous, silly to watch. So it takes two to tango.

Right?

At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you down your second glass of wine that night. You really didn’t have anything to worry about. It was a night to celebrate! Your boys had claimed silver in volleyball for Japan in the Olympics. And since at least of half of the starting lineup came from the MSBY Black Jackals, you had been invited to help manage the team. In all honesty, the boys seemed more excited than you.

The Olympics had been an emotional rollercoaster of ups and downs, but in the end, you were proud. They had worked hard and to celebrate, had come to a nice restaurant, that Osamu had recommended, to celebrate.

You looked up from your menu to where the man himself was making recommendations to everyone at the table. Speaking to deaf ears, he described some complex dishes and their contents to Hinata and Bokuto. They were really trying to listen, but both were still riding their high from the game. That or they had already begun to crash. You chuckled into your glass as you sipped your third glass.

“Unless you’re planning on being tipsy before we even get our food, maybe slow down on the wine?” a voice from your left spoke.

You glanced over to two russet eyes gleaming at you, brimming with mischief. You rolled your eyes, “I can hold my own, thank you very much. Besides, what do you care if I get a little tipsy? We’re here to celebrate,” You flicked his chest, “Loosen up a bit, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu placed his hand on his chest in mock hurt, “Hey, I just don’t want to have to take care of your sorry ass if you get drunk. And I am plenty loose,” He held his own drink up as evidence. “See?”

You just responded with another chuckle and returned to your drink and menu.

So the dance had begun.

Atsumu came into your life about a year, year and a half ago. Freshly graduated from university, you were able to land a job as a team manager for the Black Jackals. Not exactly what you were picturing as your future, but hey, it’s a start. And from the moment you saw Atsumu, it was hate at first sight. Seriously. The guy radiated douchebag energy. And the first time he opened his mouth confirmed that.

Regardless of your attempts to interact with him as little as possible, his attempts to get closer were too persistence and you two became close. There had been many a late nights, after practice or otherwise, where a simple text would lead to some insane adventure with him. Long conversations in his car or on your balcony, binge watching a new series, or just even when either needed another person. Your friendship with Atsumu was something you cherished.

So when you realized you had caught feelings, you began your elaborate dance of trying to balance both. On one hand, you wanted to keep what you had. On the other, you wanted more. But even if you could read him in every other situation, you had no idea if he felt the same.

Hence, you’re weird tango with the pro-volleyball player, Miya Atsumu.

Each time you made a forward remark or moved to touch him on his shoulder or arm or even brush hands? It was like cautious movements, testing the beat of the music and always looking to the other person for cues. Back and forth, this dance had been going on for at least the past eight months or so. You didn’t have the courage to take that step forward—and if he felt the same, it seemed he didn’t either. So you both were at a stand still.

The third glass went down and you tried to shake off your overthinking tendencies. What will be will be, and you were here to celebrate! Take a slice out of your own advice and loosen up! You smiled and joined in a conversation that Iwaizumi was having with Sakusa.

Everyone ordered their food and it came out soon after. The rest of the meal went by fine. The table reminiscing and exchanging stories and laughter. They were oblivious to yours and Atsumu’s brief touches, stolen glances, and whispered jokes and comments made about what was going on around you two. You felt more warm with each contact and hushed word spoken—and the wine settling into your system was not helping.

By the end of the meal it had become too much. You turned to Iwaizumi and asked him to pay for you, promising to Venmo him later. When asked what’s wrong, you flushed red and came up with a weak excuse about being a little too tipsy and wanting to turn in early. You slung your purse around your shoulder and bid everyone a good night, not daring to look at Atsumu.

You rushed outside, thankful for the slight drop in temperature. It was warm, but not unbearable. Slapping your hands against your cheeks, you tried to shake off your anxiety from tonight. It had all become too much, too fast. You could deal with that in the morning, but for now, you should try to get back and take a warm bath.

“Hey, are you alright?”

A slight sway to the music. A move that required a response.

“I’m, uh, yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

A hesitant step.

“Y/n, you look like a tomato. How much did you drink tonight?”

A step more confident than the last. Not quite one that requires an intimate move, but a bold one nonetheless.

“Not much. I’m just going to head back; call it a night.”

Turning to him stopped you in your tracks. You had more to say. Something about reassuring him and telling him to go back inside to enjoy himself. But his eyes, those eyes! They held such a loving gaze so full of sincerity and concern that you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else.

A moment passed. Then another.

Finally, he spoke, “Then I’ll take you back.” Past his eyes, you couldn’t read the rest of him. His body moving out of sync with the music. It was strange and foreign, unreadable.

No, I’m fine. Go back inside. “Okay.”

He led you to his car and to say the tension could be cut with a knife was an understatement. That tension weighed heavy on the short car ride. It suspended the music and made both of you terrified to disturb the silence.

Atsumu parked in front of the building and got out to walk with you. No, your head was screaming at you, Tell him not to walk you to your room. Too afraid to usurp the quiet, you held your tongue and let him walk you to the elevator, take the elevator with you, and walk you to your room. All in the loudest silence you’d ever heard.

Reaching you door, you were at a loss for words. Do you invite him in? Confess everything that you’d been feeling all night? Give him a curt goodnight and turn him away? You deemed the latter option the best, planning on thanking him, wishing him a goodnight, than swiftly enter your room.

You fished the card out of your pocket and held it up, “Well, this is me.” But you remained, unmoved. Possibly curious as to what he was going to say or do. Wondering why he was staring at you so intensely. This was different than the look he was giving you in the front of the restaurant. And why was he so close? You could feel his hot breath on your nose and it sent chills down your back.

Slowly, he grabbed the card out of your hand and unlocked your door. Still staring at you, he opened the door. You took a tentative step back into the room and he took one to counter. The music still held its breath, these were just pickups, a set up for the rest of the dance.

This continued until you were both in your room, the door closed. Your back was pressed against the wall adjacent to the closed door and Atsumu had once again closed the gap so you could feel his breath on your face.

“Atsumu~”

“Y/n, I want this, I want you. I have ever since I first met you. I want you, y/n. And I know that what I want would ruin our friendship and so I waited. I waited and waited and tried to be patient but I’m tired of waiting.” Atsumu searched your eyes for a confirmation to a question he really hadn’t asked. “But I’ll continue to be patient if that’s what you want. I’ll walk out that door right now and we can pretend like this never happened.”

Taking a bold move, you reached up and brushed your fingers across his cheek. His eyes briefly stopped searching yours so he could revel in the contact and lean into it.

“But I don’t think that’s what you want.” He opened his eyes, his intense look continuing its search.

A million things rushed through your head, excuses, explanations, anything. Your head was swimming and your heart was pounding and the music still held its breath. So in a split decision, fueled by a combination of liquid courage and adrenaline, you grabbed his collar and kissed him.

Immediately, he put his hands on your waist and pulled you closer. Atsumu was warm and sure, oh so sure. He always had been. His presence was always comforting, and this intimate moment reaffirmed that.

You pulled back, breathless. It was your turn to search his eyes. You searched and searched for any sign that would tell you that he’s lying. That he doesn’t want this as much as you, that you’ll just be another prize on his shelf. But all you saw was the same loving gaze that told that he did want this as much as you, maybe even more.

You lightly drew your thumb over his bottom lip, “I want you, Atsumu. I want you and I don’t care if it ruins what we have as long as I get to have you.”

His lips cracked into a huge smile and you decided that it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. He kissed you again and again, smiling through each one.

When he stopped his barrage, you couldn’t stop smiling like a giddy school girl, “So, what happens now?”

“Hmm, well I have some ideas.” He lifted up your shirt slightly and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Only if you’re up to them, of course.”

Your grip on his collar tightened, but your voice remained cool and collected, “You know I’m always up for your ideas.”

He smiled and pecked your lips once more before picking you up and placing you on the bed.

In the morning, golden light rested on Atsumu’s face, making him look ethereal in the morning glow. A sleepy smile stretched across your face as you kissed his lower jaw.

It takes two to tango. And even if the dance is over, shrouding the future in uncertainty, for now, life was perfect.

(Posted November 26, 2020, 02:30PM MST)

(Updated December 18, 2020, 11:22PM MST)

#atsumu miya #atsumu fluff #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu oneshot #atsumu oneshot #sakusa kiyoomi #iwazumi hajime #hinata shoyo #haikyuu fluff #miya atsumu #osamu miya

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caxsthetic · 4 years

Text

When The Storm Passed

Kita Shinsuke x F!Reader

Unfurling: They said there will always a good thing that we could get after every storm—and he could only wish to see a rainbow when the hurricane stop.

Pt. 1 ⇚ Part 2 ⇛ Ep.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *. GRAND MASTERLIST .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Regret. A word that haunted him ever since one fateful night where he only looked forward from. He still remembered that night as if it just happened yesterday. His mind replayed to the memories like a broken record, one that no one could fix.

Hello, how are you? How is life?

It had been years since the last time he saw your face. But every little emotion that you once evoke, every single word that rolled down from your lips, everything about you still adheres to his mind. Even after the season changed, months after months, the storm still had the power to ravage his life.

If only he let you in, if only he turned his back and chased you like a madman, would the storm pass and turned into a rainbow instead? Would you be here? With him?

Sweat trickling down on his skin as the rays of sun hit him without mercy. But he was alright with it, bowing down to make sure each seedling was planted neatly. This was the time he could only find peace, taking care of the rice fields as if they were his children. Maybe because he thought they were indeed—his children.

Being here became the only way he could give out the love inside his heart. Through every good quality seed, every movement he made as he embedded the tiny beads into the soil, he gave the feelings that he should have poured towards another human being.

But he didn't trust his feelings anymore, not when it stayed and yet, he couldn't give it to her.

He couldn't give it to you, in consideration of how you never belonged to him.

Wasn't it what he wanted from the start? To never let you in? Despite the realisation that you already struck his heart, maybe it was for the best. He did not know much about love except the one that he got from his grandmother. And to have someone as perfect as you to be his cavy for love would be an embarrassment to the universe.

So he had to endure whatever pain that caused by the storm called you.

"Where is Osamu?" The setter had his phone on his ear, a frown emerged from his face as the only thing that he could hear was some beeps. "I wanted to borrow some money for shirts, yet he was nowhere to be seen somehow."

Atsumu kept grumbling under his breath, muttering curse after curse as his brother didn't once pick up the call. The entire team snickering from how pouty and childish the scary setter looked at the moment, stomping his foot and blowing some raspberry like a spoiled child.

"I think he went somewhere with (Y/n)," The libero just finished tying up his shoes, "Knowing them, probably making out somewhere on whatever quiet place they could find."

The others chuckled at the remark—ah, to be in love—was something that not everyone had the chance to feel, especially while they were all still hormonal teenagers. Yet you and the opposite wing spiker always clicked in one way or another.

While everyone laughed at this, teasing and gossiping about the couple, Ojiro couldn't help but spare some glance towards the captain that decided to keep silent. Even after days had passed, the sight of him with tears cascading down his cheeks still persisted.

It was the second time the wing spiker saw Kita Shinsuke cried. One time when he received the captain's jersey; which lasted for around five minutes, and the second time when he realised that he was falling for their manager. While this one—lasted for even minutes after he dropped the captain off.

"The bus is here." Shivers ran down everyone's spines as he spit the words, like every syllable that came out from his lips became venom, "They parked on the front of gate B, all of you go there now." The entire team nodded and grabbed their belongings, walking towards the exit in unison.

But not him. He walked to the opposite direction instead, leaving the others raising their eyebrows in wonder.

"Oi, Shinsuke, where are you going?" Akagi stopped in his tracks and turned his head. "Toilet or something?"

"No," Kita grabbed his phone, sending a text message to the grey haired underclassmen of his, "I am going to search for Osamu and (L/n)." This statement made Ojiro widened his eyes in a second,

"Wait, I am going with—"

"No need." It only needed those two words to make the tall wing spiker's move come to a halt, "Just tell me in case they were already on the bus. I think I know where they are, I wouldn't be long."

As much as Ojiro wanted to accompany his friend, to be there as a support system, he knew that once the captain made a statement, that means he wouldn't take no for an answer. So the only thing that he could do as a good friend, was following whatever the perfectionist friend of his told him to.

Kita could feel the lingering gaze of worry that was being thrown towards him, one which remained until he turned the corner. He was not that weak—at least that what he said to himself. He had seen you and the wing spiker sharing a passionate kiss after practice, holding hands subconsciously to feel a flicker of warmth from each other.

It hurt, at first. For the first few days he wanted to just run away. Run away from the storm that turned into a hurricane for every lingering gaze that you gave for the grey haired man instead of him. When he was still the receiver of such love, he blinded himself. Since the feelings were so foreign for him.

But now his mind clouded with regret—as every single breath that he took didn't feel like a blessing anymore.

"Hey, it's okay, Samu..."

He stopped when he could hear the familiar gentle voice, soothing someone that he knew so well whom. Kita just needed to take this one last turn to see your face and brought the two to the bus. But as he fixated there, listening to the tender tone of your words, he felt like he was the one who was with you.

And he didn't want to waste this one chance of reverie.

"It's alright to cry. I would never judge you, you know that right?" Yes. "Cry in my shoulder, it's okay, I don't care if you ruin my jacket." Alright.

He could feel it deep inside every fiber of his being. How you caressed his hair as he rested his forehead on your shoulders, tears making a mess on your clothes as you whispered sweet nothing in his ear to calm him down. He could feel your touch, getting lost on the strands of his hair while the other hand pulled him close to feel your affection.

No matter how real it felt, it all only twirled inside his mind. He was chasing a storm that already walked past him. But the aftermath was still visible, not lessening after days he realised you already torn his life.

"Thank you, (Y/n)," He unconsciously clenched his hand into a fist when he was back to reality, slapped by the hoarse voice of his underclassmen, "I didn't know how I would be if I didn't have you here." You wouldn't want to know that, Osamu.

"Oh, it was nothing. I am just doing my job as the best girlfriend that I could ever be." You always sell yourself too short, "What important now is that you feel better, right?"

"Of course," He could hear how the two lips collided, it didn't sound needy and fiery like how you always shared your kiss. This sounded gentle, like the first droplets of rain hitting the grass. "I love you,"

It was silent for a few seconds before you pulled your boyfriend to another kiss. Now it sounded fiery, a hurried kiss as if you didn't hear the three words that were given for you. As if you didn't want to answer that, "I love you, I really do." But those words wanted some answer, it didn't want to leave you alone.

"Samu, I-I love—"

"The bus is here."

Osamu immediately pulled himself away from you. Tinted pinkish hue adorned your boyfriend's cheeks when he saw his captain standing around five feet from the two of you with the expression that rarely changed, flustered to get caught in such a predicament with you, "I am sorry if I disturbed the moment."

"N-No, it's alright, Kita-san." You were the one who answered him, so quick as your eyes found him. There was a little bit of... gratitude that lingered on your mind. What was it? His eyebrows raised a little before coming back to normal in second, Why did you look so grateful by him interrupting the moment?

He didn't want to walk into any conclusion. Even though he was sure of the reason behind your meaningful gaze just now, he didn't want to believe it.

Kita Shinsuke didn't want to have any hope.

"Kita-san?"

Because he knew whose heart would break if it was not him.

"Y-You are Kita-san, right?"

He turned his head to the right, only to see you standing there in front of the fish vendor. Once his eyes locked with yours, a smile immediately shaped on your facade. The smile that you had looked so charming, didn't lose the same warmth even after times went by.

There was something delicate about how your face contorted. Gentler, matured, like you have lived such a rough yet beautiful life. And you survived, you survived whatever obstacles that universe hurled on your direction—shaping you into such a marvelous being.

"(Y/n)..." He didn't call out or anything, your name just slipped from his lips without a brake, "(Y/n)..."

You giggled a little from how dumbfounded he looked right now. His lips parted a little, pupils dilated as if he didn't believe that you were real. And he grimaced when he realised that he was making a fool of himself, "Where are my manners—yes, I am Kita, (Y/n). Your upperclassmen from Inarizaki High."

"Goodness, always so formal." A small chuckle rolled down from your lips, so angelic even if a snort slipped from his statement, "Of course I know who you are Kita-san. The captain of Inarizaki Volleyball Boys Club who loved all of the members so much." Yes, including the manager.

It was funny, how the storm that ripped his heart apart also became the source of his happiness. He didn't realise it by now, but this little smile appeared on his face every time he heard your voice as if he was listening to some of his favourite music.

"Ah, and you are the (L/n) (F/n), the manager of Inarizaki Volleyball Boys Club who admired all of the members so much." He wanted to say it playfully. But somehow it turned into a sarcastic one, making him cringed a little, "Sorry, I—"

"Always the same, huh, Kita-san?" You walked closer to him with hands full of grocery bags, "Always the same ol' Kita-san that I admire."

That was not a fair move. To say the same verb you used the night that he wanted to redo. But then again you were saying that not with any ill intention. You just laughed with an innocent resonance, didn't know what kind of impact that you had for his fragile heart.

"Yes, still the same old me indeed."

He gave out a sigh, so soft to make sure you couldn't catch it. You calmed down after seconds, the chuckle died down into the smile that you wore when he turned to look at you before, "Want to take a walk?"

Kita didn't know what struck him right now. He thought if the universe gave him a chance to meet you once again, he would just say hi and gave his back on you like he used to. But what he did right now was the opposite of it.

Maybe he had matured? Maybe after all this time he was ready to have whatever consequences that he would get. He used to be a coward when a storm like you appeared in his life. But not now. Now he wanted to make things right, as he was more prepared than his past self.

You agreed, with a simple nod and the smile which never left your face, you followed him as he brought you to a stroll. It was so peaceful—to walk with you side by side. The petals of cherry blossoms blown by the wind as small talks filled his eardrums.

He used to hate it. To walk with you alone, to have some small talks that he thought could be used to do something productive instead. But as he listened, to your soft voice as you told him where you have been after all this time, he felt like you sung him a lullaby; he felt at peace.

His eyes searching for yours, taking one step ahead since he wanted to catch your gaze. You halted when he stood right in front of you, confusion was written on your face. An odd move for him, but then again you did exactly what he wanted; meeting his eyes.

Just like that, the two of you shared some whirlwind of emotion as he gazed deep into your shining orbs—trying to find some remnants of warmth that he used to find from you on his high school days.

In hope that maybe, it was still there even after all this time.

He looked down to his hand where the scroll of graduation certificate rested gently. Three years had passed since he enrolled in this school. The place that taught him a lot of things in life. Friendship, pride, family, sportsmanship—and love. Something that he never thought he would experience in such an early phase of life.

Everyone was taking a picture with their friends, either from the same grade, or some of the underclassmen. He was just done talking to Atsumu, lecturing him a little and gave the setter some reassurance. Yes, Osamu wouldn't be there on the court anymore after graduation. But the golden yellow haired man had one more year, one more year to make memories together.

No matter how many times Atsumu said that memories weren't needed in his life, it was the only thing that he could cherish when someday he missed his brother to play with him on the same court.

Kita smiled softly as his friends were being dragged by a lot of people. Some girls timidly asked Ojiro to take a picture with them, Akagi was given some chocolate, Omimi in a deep conversation with some teachers.

And he just decided to stand there, sheltering under the trees that have aged for perhaps hundreds of years. His orbs observed the joyous atmosphere that spring gave. He was too focused on how the scenery unfolded in front of him, that he didn't even hear some footsteps coming from his side.

"That was a rare sight," You popped out, unnoticed, uninvited, "That smile of yours Kita-san, it was such a rare sight."

He was taken aback by your words, but then he composed himself in a matter of seconds, smiling softly by now, "See? That smile! Can I take a picture? For scientific purposes!"

"You know there was no such thing as a scientific purpose of taking a portrait of mine."

"A smiling portrait of yours," You corrected.

"Alright, a smiling portrait of mine. Still, there was nothing that you could get."

"I can get serotonin."

The statement that you blurted made his face adorned with some shades of red, didn't expect you to say it so smoothly as if he was your boyfriend. While he was in a pause, you successfully got a picture of him, your lips immediately shaped into a grin.

"Delete that."

"No!" You chuckled when he tried to grab the phone off from your hand, "I am going to print it and worship it. Bet if I gave it to Suna and Atsumu, they would pay lots of money." He wanted to feel annoyed, he was supposed to get annoyed by your childish act.

But what he felt right now was just the banter that made his heart flutter. The banter that he could feel every day if only he let you talk to him, the conversation that he could have for a year knowing you if only he didn't turn his back on you.

You, the storm that when he first saw you he didn't want anything with. Yet right now as you laughed in front of him, making fun of him, he wished that he wouldn't be a coward and let you in completely. You were a beautiful calamity, one that he never met for eighteen years he had breathed the fresh air in this world.

He used to be so afraid whenever you were near, always making sure that there was at least a three feet gap between your figure and his. He used to be afraid to talk to you, didn't want to make himself fall even deeper to this bottomless pit called love that you offer.

But with you looking so terrific with a sunny smile that was a total contrast to what you are—a storm—he was hitting himself mentally for even thinking that you were a storm that could stir his life. There was nothing from you that radiated chaos with how gentle you looked through his eyes.

Both of you were lost in each other's presence, didn't recognize how some pairs of orbs scrutinized the magical occurrence between you and the captain. It was as if there were some kind of bubble that separated the two of you from the rest of the world.

He didn't think much as his hand rested on top of your head, ruffling it gently as a soft smile adorned his face. You were stunned, jolting a little since never in your mind you thought that Kita would even touch you, let alone ruffling your hair as if you just won some extraordinary award. But indeed felt like that.

Your eyes met with his, the brown eyes gazed at yours, searching for the warmth look that you always had just for him. It was there. Flickering in between awe and wonder, you still had these feelings that you offered for him all those months ago. He was actually amazed by it, didn't expect that someone would admire him still even after all of those cold gestures that he showed.

In this moment, as your eyes locked with his captivating one, it felt just like the first time he saw you running through the schoolground. With your teeth clamped on a piece of bread, only for you to slip and eat the soil instead. Remembering all of those recollections, he realised that the storm called you was there inside him since that particular day.

"I lo-"

But before he could continue the words that have been stuck on his throat for months, his gaze met with a pair of dark grey orbs, filled with pain and fear. Your boyfriend was there, shoulder slumped as he saw how his captain looked at you. It was the same with the look that he had every time his eyes laid on you—from what his brother said.

Within instance, Kita pulled his hand away from your head. He could see the disappointment appearing from your eyes for a second. But at the same time it was like you realised that you were not his, it was as if you realised he never let you in and it was all too late for the two of you.

You were just a storm. He reminded himself as he almost hurt his underclassmen that he cared so much, just because he wanted you too. From the start he knew he was at fault here, but he needed to twist his mind for now. Hoping that the storm would go out from his life someday.

Or at least if the storm stayed, he didn't want it now. Not when he knew so well the storm didn't come just to him.

He panted hard; today's job felt so tiresome as he needed to make sure every rice packed neatly. With diligence and patience, he was satisfied that each ounce he produced could be spread all around Japan, tasted and enjoyed from any kind of place.

It has always become one of his dreams, to create something that was impactful to a lot of people. He imagined a scenario where a family gathered around, praying and thanked the deity from giving them such a wonderful life—grateful for everything that had been given to them.

A child, maybe one or two, listened in and followed every movement of their father as they circled around on the dining table. The time filled with love and appreciation, little family that he always wanted; one that he never had.

He thought that you would be a great wife, especially after a week ago where he crossed paths with you once again. With a gentle smile, groceries bag in hand, everyone who saw the two of them yesterday would think that they were some newlywed couple.

In the middle of work, this was the first time he was distracted and thought about anything else beside the rice fields and the numbers that may come. See? A storm. He chuckled under his breath, remembering how much you had changed, yet a perfect kind of change.

If before he always grimaced and frowned when his mind went back to you without him wanting to, now he seems like he enjoyed it. Maybe he finally embraced it, the fact that no matter how many times he tried to run away from you, a storm will always catch up with him.

Especially you; the one kind that swirled on his heart, the one that slipped without permission. Who stayed, and never left him—leading him to the conclusion that some storm would be there for the longest time.

"Shin," A gentle voice that belonged to his grandmother brought him back to reality, "You look happy there," She chuckled a little, walking closer towards her grandson that she was always proud of.

"I am always happy at work, granny." He emitted a smile that only showed when he put his walls down, "And well, you are here too, so it doubled up my happiness."

"Ah, always so charismatic." She shook her head in amusement and patted his back, "Are you going to send in the supply for Osamu-chan?" He almost snorted from the choice of nickname that his grandmother used for his old teammate, still not used to it even after years he had heard it.

"Yes, I will." He gave her a soft smile and put his record book inside his bag, "I am going there now, he needs it to cheer up someone tomorrow."

"Alright, stay safe and focus on the road, Shin."

Kita nodded and went towards the car, starting the engine with a light heart. With one last glance and a little wave towards his grandmother, his car started to roll down the road.

Hyogo was peaceful, especially around his neighbourhood. Acres of land that were still untouched, with big trees adorned the side of the road. He always had his car window down as he soaked the serene atmosphere.

And now his mind was running wild, imagining you to be there beside him. What would you do if you were in the passenger seat? Would you turn on the radio and sing along to whatever tunes that were being aired? Or maybe you would just hum and enjoy the scenery with him.

Whatever it was that you would do, anything that reminded him of you made his heart burst with joy. So he would be okay, he would be okay for any of your antics, he would be ready now when he faced you once again.

He thought about sending you a message since a week ago when he got your new number, wanting to maybe ask you out on a date. Date—does everyone still say that? He felt so old as he was not really good about this thing called love. But one thing that he knew, he felt like he never aged at all by keeping this storm in his life.

You used to love some peaceful cafe that looked aesthetically pleasing. With a wide variety of drinks so you would never get bored, ordering some different beverages until you found the right one. At least that was what he heard from Osamu before on the high school days.

His eyes fell to the familiar building, a traditional Japanese one which was full with wood and chocolate accent. Dark blue banner written with "宮" (read: Miya) could be seen even when he was still a little bit far from the place.

It felt like another home for him, obvious with how his lips shaped into a smile every time he was here. Proud. He was always proud with how everything turned out for all of his old teammates. It was such a hectic day that time when Osamu told his brother that he would no longer pursue his career in volleyball, resulting in them with faces full of band aid.

But looked at them now, all grown up chasing their own dreams with a smile on their faces.

Kita parked the car near the back door so it wouldn't prevent any pedestrians from seeing such a cozy place to stop by. As if the owner of the shop had a six sense, someone popped out from the back door with a glint of joy glimmering inside his dark grey orbs.

"Kita-san!" The rice farmer turned his head only to meet his old teammate, "Come on, let me help you." Both of them had the same soft smile since they knew that together, they felt like they were home. His old teammates were all considered as his family, the one who had been with him through ups and down.

"Don't you have workers who should unload the stock?"

"Yeah, but I like unloading the stock with you. We didn't hang much like we used to after all."

Even if they live in the same prefecture, the same city to be exact, they had their own schedule that needed to be fulfilled. They were not teenagers anymore who had more free time, doing some routine and hobbies. They were adults now, with different burdens on each of their shoulders.

The rice farmer nodded at this and opened up the baggage, dozens of rice sacks filled their vision. All of them were arranged in a neat row, making sure that not even one of them bounced while in the road.

With cheeky grins on their faces, they looked at each other. Within seconds, both of them immediately had sacks of rice on their shoulders. They had this kind of ritual and inner bet. For those who could load the most sacks inside the shops would treat the winner some drink for the next four times they hang out.

"Gah, you win this time, Kita-san." Osamu plopped himself on the pile of sacks while stretching his body, "I am drained mentally and physically after yesterday."

"Oh? What happened yesterday?" The light grey haired man leaned his body on the wall, looking down on his old teammate who looked so beaten up. "Did something happen to you?" Now his eyes lingered with worry, he never liked the idea of his friend getting into something bad.

"Ah... It was nothing bad." There was a tranquil smile that was visible on his underclassmen's face, "I just did something that I have been planning for a long time, that's all."

"So how did it go?" Now the rice farmer was curious. It's been maybe two months since the last time they had a casual conversation about life, "Just like the plan?"

"Even better, Kita-san, I—"

"Samu, did the rice arrive already?"

His breath hitch when a familiar figure suddenly appeared from the kitchen. Even with all of the hair being swept to the back, a simple black shirt that didn't really compliment your figure due to maybe the wrong size, the cap that covered your head and hooded your eyes.

He wouldn't mistake the only woman who ever had his heart since high school.

There was shock, written on both of your faces, once again feeling like the two of you were in some kind of bubble without anyone else. It felt like a lifetime ago when he saw the glimmer of old feelings from your eyes; that somehow still visible when he met you last week.

But now as you stood there with the same attire as his underclassmen—that he knew so well had its eyes on you even before he realised his own feelings—something clicked on his mind like a turmoil before the big storm came.

"I actually wanted to surprise you, knowing how much you used to admire Kita-san so much." Osamu stood up and walked towards you, wrapping one of his arms around your waist as his lips touched the side of your head, "Kita-san is the main supplier for Onigiri Miya, you know?"

"R-Really?" You sounded surprised, widening your eyes a little bit more than before. Your gaze never once left him, and right now he didn't know what to do with the fact he would never have the second chance, "Goodness, why didn't I know that?!"

Your fist hit your boyfriend's chest playfully, but it was more forceful than it supposed to be. The black haired man only cackled at this as he saw how embarrassed you looked right now.

This was the same banter, the same laugh and smile that you and your boyfriend always had since high school. The same one that he once felt. Yes, once. A long time ago where you took a picture of him on his graduation day. How is the photograph now? Do you still save it like what you said that day?

"Okay, okay, I will grab one sack. And you, Miya Osamu, go have some chit chat with Kita-san. You whined a lot when I was away saying that you rarely had time catching up with him." You pecked the black haired man on the cheek before slipping away to grab the rice sacks. Your feet brought you closer to the rice farmer, smiling softly as your gaze fell on his figure.

"Hey."

"Hey, Kita-san."

Your hand grabbed the handle of the sacks and straightened your posture as you stood right in front of him. At this rare time, he felt like you never became a storm. Even after every wrenched and disconsolate that you brought. You still looked so beautiful, and no way a calamity supposed to look like you. "I never said this, but, it's good to see you."

He chuckled a little, trying to calm himself down as his eyes fell towards the diamond ring that rested on your finger. Oh, it suited you, simple and yet sophisticated, So this was the plan.

And in the blink of an eye, he fixed his gaze on you once again. Swallowing down all of the immense pain that bubbling inside his heart.

"It's good to see you too, (Y/n)." Always.

You smiled at him, bowing a little. Just like that time you said that you admired him. You turned his back on him, walking towards the opposite direction. Just like that time when you ignited the foreign feelings inside his heart.

His eyes never left your facade as you put your hand on the shoulder of your fiancé. He could hear it, as the black haired man leaned to your ear and whispered the three beautiful words. He remembered how you were hesitate before, he remembered how you were so grateful that he came right at the time.

But it was a long time ago,

"I love you too, Samu."

There was no hesitation this time. The words rolling down from your lips that sounded so heavenly for his underclassmen. Yet for him, it felt like he was in the peak of the calamity, where everything wrecked until the roots.

He should have known that the admiration in your eyes from a week ago was platonic. He fell into an illusion of hope that his own mind created to save him from the heartbreak. The heartbreak that he was supposed to get when he looked at your glimmering orbs at that time.

The adoration that you had for him was not like what he saw on his graduation day. He could still see the remnants of your love that you offer when you teased him about his smile. He could still feel the warmth of longing as you stood still when his hand rested on top of your head, ruffling the strands of your hair as if you were his lover.

But it was not there anymore and he shouldn't have been so naive.

He thought that maybe, the storm that had been inside him for years could magically passed and produced a magnificent result.

Perhaps he would have his own rainbow, the beauty after the storm, just like what people said about what may come after the catastrophes. But as he stood here, at the back of the place that one day would be yours too with a forced smile on his face, he didn't believe in such a miracle anymore.

Because the only thing that left when the storm passed for him—was just a wreckage of an unfulfilled heart that wouldn't be intact evermore.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ༶• ┈┈ ⛧ ┈ ♛ ♛ ┈ ⛧ ┈┈ •༶ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tagged Lovelies:

@muffins-puffins @vlovers-world @blacckdiamondposts @for-ests @atsunflower @miyatsunami @iwaixiumi @hihiq @the-fandom-ness @quirksandbreaths @rintarhoe @verbluehte @simp4tsukkii @ladyalicevii @evermorehaikyuu @clowninfortodoroki @koutaroulovebot @fitriiaw @mistypoison @aquariarose @greenleaf-fantasy @t-amajiki @kuraomi @haikyuuwithadashofart @starbybokuto @shiningstar-byulxx @nerdyphantomlady @raequii

#kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #kita x reader #kita shinsuke imagine #kita shinsuke scenario #kita shinsuke fluff #kita shinsuke angst #shinsuke kita #shinsuke kita x reader #shinsuke kita imagine

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simpingforcadbury · 2 years

Text

Chocolate and Floss of the Non-Fairy Variety

6d. Feeding Ducks (1966)

“I struggle sometimes.”

“With what?”

Willy watched the ducks in the pond congregating towards their little bench by the lakeside. Their round black eyes trained expectantly upwards, bills clacking as though they were ready to demand service at a restaurant. Under the water he could see the shadow of their webbed feet paddling frantically while their bodies stayed perfectly calm above the lake.

“I feel awkward a lot of the time.”

“If it helps you to hear it, you’re not awkward at all. I think you’re one of the most genuine people I know. When you want to be that is.”

He snorted, “was that meant to be a compliment or an insult?”

“Neither. Just what I observed from knowing you for so long.” Reaching into the paper bag between them, Kristie tossed the crumbled bread out to the crowd in the pond. They sat watching as the feeding frenzy began. What little the ducks missed out on was immediately snatched up by the fish lurking below.

“Everyone’s awkward in some way or another. Most of the time. I guess it just makes us human, right?” Kristie tilted her head to glance at her friend; he looked almost peaceful.

“At the end of the day, you’re just Willy. And that’s all that matters, no matter what anyone says.”

She hesitated, letting the natural sounds of the park move through her to rest her mind. “I don’t understand body language and eye contact that well.” She confessed. “I never know how long it’s appropriate to look at someone for. It’s something I never really got the hang of.”

“I never realised that actually. I always thought you were just being attentive. It does get a little creepy sometimes when you do it too long though.”

“Yeah, I’ve been experimenting with it. I just never know where to look if it straight at someone. And then sometimes when I switch my gaze back and forth I look stressed.”

“Maybe it’s because you are stressed.”

“I’m not stressed!”

“Yes you are! Just because you hide it doesn’t mean I can’t see it. Your neck is tense now!”

“No it’s not.”

Willy shot her a skeptical look. “Turn around.”

“Why?”

“I’ll show you where it is.”

Questionably, she did turn her back to him. And before long she felt the radiating warmth of his hand hovering above the back of her neck, asking permission. Hesitant.

“It’s right here. May I?”

“Go ahead.”

She felt his fingers make contact with her skin, ticklish and foreign along her spine. She wasn’t going to lie that she enjoyed his attentions.

“OW. WHAT WAS THAT FOR.” A sudden bolt of pain shot through her as he dug his thumbs into the muscle at the base of her shoulders.

“Relax, dearie. That’s exactly what I mean by stressed.”

“Well, not all the time!”

“Sometimes though, often enough anyways.”

He continued to knead her neck and shoulders, slowly but firmly, working the aching tenseness out of her. “You’re working yourself thin, Kristie, it’s about time you give yourself a break.”

“Says the workaholic. This is my break.”

“My world revolves around me, I hardly need to stress.” He joked. “You need more than this. You’re officially off work at the factory for the next week.”

“Excuse me?”

“Seriously, go spend some time with your family. The factory’s not going to disappear overnight you know.” He tilted his head contemplatively, giggling manically at his own joke.

“Oh. Well, thank you, I guess I’ll be having early nights in for a while then! I’m going to miss your company you know?” Kristie felt herself easing into his touch, enjoying the massage like a cat enjoys laying out by a warm fire in the winter.

“My company or my company?”

“You know which, besides what’s not love about both?”

Willy could have sworn she pushed back playfully against him as she said so. Love was a strong word. An unfamiliar word. But the thought of it sent a rush of happiness through him. It wasn’t the same as the context that she meant it, he knew. But he couldn’t help but feel that way, as though he tied to her through an invisible bond which she tugged at every so often.

Maybe it was the feeling that he wasn’t quite so alone. He was never the most discerning in that regard.

“Well that doesn’t have to be the case. If the invitation is still open, I’d love to join you during your breaks more often.”

“Oh? Finally changed your mind on this primitive little serfdom?”

“Nothing’s ever primitive and boring when you have a good friend to pass the time with. And how could I possibly deprive you of my majestic presence?”

“You’re impossible. You don’t even need to ask, if course you’re always welcome.” She chuckled over her shoulder as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “After all, who else is going to feed the ducks with me on a Monday afternoon?”

The ducks had paddled away, leaving Willy and Kristie to their own little grove by the lakeside. They were of course, just disappointed that their lunch was now depleted.

Back to masterlist

#charlie and the chocolate factory #kristie masseter #willy wonka #willy wonka x ofc #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka x oc

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izlaria · 3 years

Text

Someone you like (part 1)

This work is inspired by the animatic called Someone you like by honestlyprettychill. I don’t know if I’ll have the energy to do all of the povs showcased in the video, but I just really loved the idea that Lance would eventually come to like Pidge, a romance born from years of friendship. Friends to lovers is my jam.

I’m posting this on tumblr in case I never finish it, because I just wanted to share what I’ve written so far. I might upload the whole thing to AO3 later.

I made some changes to the video’s initial idea, because I wanted to follow canon ages and I didn’t want a 14-year-old to fall for a 12-year-old. At that time, it’s a pretty big difference in development. So I wanted to establish the basis for Lance to eventually romanticize their first encounter, despite not having been attracted to young Katie.

Spanish to English translations at the end.

14 years old

The truth was that Lance went to Space Camp because Veronica could be a little pest. She knew their parents wouldn’t let her go alone and so had enticed her younger brother with the promise of travel and foreign girls and no parental supervision.

Veronica had obviously left out the fact that they were essentially going to school on steroids for a month, smack in the middle of their summer break. Cool as Miami might seem, Lance wasn’t exactly excited for all the extra work the camp would entail.

“No es un acampamiento,” his sister repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. He wasn’t listening anymore. “Tú sabes que el campo de explotación espacial no está muy desenvuelto en Cuba. Si realmente quieres trabajar con eso, entonces simplemente cállate y no insultes a nadie.”

“¿Cuando he insultado a alguien?” he shot back, defensive. Veronica didn’t dignify that with an answer.

As much as Lance might like to think himself very smooth, there were still times when he stumbled over his words, especially in English. More than once he’d meant to pay someone a compliment and had accidentally started an argument of some kind.

Veronica looked impatiently at her watch. “Mira, tengo una reunión con mi orientador. Y tú tienes por lo menos dos artículos para leer para las clases de mañana, ¿por qué no vas a la biblioteca para trabajar un poco? Prometo comprarte una hamburguesa después.”

Lance pouted at her, arms crossed over his chest. “Me debes más que una hamburguesa y lo sabes, Ronie.”

His sister snickered, but it was as much of an acknowledgement as he was going to get. Veronica pressed a quick kiss to his hair, already turning to go into the main building.

“¡Gracias, hermanito! ¡No te arrepentirás!”

In all honesty, Lance wasn’t as irritated as he made Veronica believe. He knew that a summer program in Miami was a really good opportunity, especially if he wanted to get into the Garrison in the following years. It was just difficult.

He was diligent and studious, but not as naturally gifted as some of the other kids. Besides, he hadn’t been to the US in a couple years, since his parents had mostly settled down in the family farm, which meant he still had to fall back into his English, a task made even more frustrating by the xenophobic comments from one of the boys in his AP geometry class.

The teacher had put an end to it right away, but the words stuck with Lance, for some reason.

With how much humanity had progressed in terms of technology, one would think they would be able to get past petty rivalry between nationalities and usually that was true, but the influx of foreigners following the establishment of the Galaxy Garrison in the US desert still annoyed some people, despite its existence as a multinational center for space exploration. It irritated Lance to no end, especially when so many of these scientific advances came from international collaboration.

If only he could shrug off the inadequacy that now grew in his chest.

Straight ahead, there was a path that led to a green area in the middle of the campus. The other students had taken to calling it the Woods, though it was more of a middle-sized park, with benches and picnic tables where anyone from the Institute could go to relax. That’s where Lance went, mind too full to really focus on homework.

He wondered if people would react that same way if he ever made it into the Garrison. He didn’t know how Veronica dealt with it all, especially when she was alone in Arizona most of the time. Barely a week had passed and Lance already missed his parents, the tenderness of home-cooked food and well-intended lectures.

No, he had to believe that Billy Underwood was an exception. The other kids hadn’t joined in on his taunts, even if no one had moved to defend Lance. It was still too early to make conclusions on his colleagues, especially when everyone had seemed so charmed by him before then.

Lance was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize he had been standing in front of one of the benches until a new voice broke through the peace of the park.

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

The words were somewhat harsh, but when Lance lowered his eyes to their source the girl winced, grimacing. She seemed to have spoken impulsively.

“Hmm, yeah.” Lance blinked at her for a moment, before finally sitting down on the bench. He made sure to leave space between him and the girl, not wanting to make the situation even more awkward.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” the girl said after a moment of silence. She looked at him sideways and her brown eyes seemed almost golden in the sunlight. There were freckles spread across the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks, and the green ribbon in her hair swayed in the wind. It was a soft sight, a contrast to the steeliness of her posture and gaze.

“It’s fine,” Lance hurried to assure her. She looked young, but so did he, and talking to complete strangers never failed to make him nervous. “Nothing like a little girl yelling at me to bring me back to earth.”

He gave her his best grin, the one reserved for first impressions and fancy parties. It was supposed to project confidence and kindness, even though Luis said he ended up looking a bit smug.

“I didn’t yell,” the girl pointed out with a light frown. Then her eyes shifted into a more calculating look. “You’re a bit of a goofball, aren’t you?”

“I prefer the term good-humored,” he replied jokingly.

She continued to stare. Lance got the feeling that the girl did this a lot. She had an untamed intelligence to her that Lance couldn’t completely understand. It was the sort of air that teachers sometimes carried, as if they could see something deeper in you if they looked long enough.

“It didn’t seem like you were feeling all that good-humored just now.” She tilted her head to the side, letting the words hang between them.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” Lance found himself saying.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” She looked so doubtful that it almost made Lance laugh. The feeling, however, was overcome by the relief of finally having someone who would listen.

He had spent the week trying and failing to explain to Veronica what was truly making him feel down. She was too busy or too happy for Lance to tell her the truth, especially when it left him so vulnerable. After all, Veronica had taken to her work on the Institute like a fish to water. Lance was supposed to be more adaptable than this.

With the rest of his family away in Cuba, he felt unbearably lonely.

“Yes! Thank you!” Lance shifted in the bench to face the girl. She was taken aback by his enthusiasm, but didn’t move away. “There’s this cabrón in my class, who thought it was a good idea to mess with me, just ‘cause I said fábrica instead of factory in our first day here. He hasn’t really left me alone since…” he whined. “I speak two languages but somehow I’m the uneducated ass here!”

The girl nodded, eyes downcast. “I know what you mean.”

“You do?” He eyed the fairness of her skin and the almost ginger of her hair. “Sorry, but you look white.”

Lance’s comment must have taken her by surprise, because she actually laughed.

“I am white. I’m also Italian.” She rolled her eyes, but there was amusement in the tug of her lips. “I can be both.”

“That’s true.” Lance grinned sheepishly. It was good that she wasn’t offended by his lack of filter. “You don’t have much of an accent, though.”

“Neither do you,” the girl bit back, no real animosity in her tone.

He shrugged. “My family spent a lot of time in the US when I was younger. It used to be second nature to me. Now, I keep feeling like I have to hold back the instinct to roll my R’s.”

“I get that. My parents moved here right after I was born, but we used to speak Italian in the house.” There was a pause here, something that she couldn’t bring herself to say. “I think it’s cool that you can speak Spanish. It’s useful.”

“Yeah?” Lance sat up straight, feeling suddenly boastful.

“Sure!” she continued, encouraged by his interest. “The Bouman Aeronautics Research Institute really values multiculturalism! It is a hob of different nationalities and perspectives, created to foster new minds from around the world! Or that’s what my brother says, at least, and he is rarely wrong.” She gave him a smirk that quickly shifted into a grimace. “Don’t tell him I said that or he will never let me forget it.”

“Older brother?” At her nod, Lance smiled. “I got older siblings too. Sort of the reason I’m here in the first place, actually. One of them was accepted as a researcher and she tricked me into applying too.”

“Same, actually.” She seemed startled for a moment, pulling out her cellphone. “Freak, I have to go! I completely lost track of time while reading.” She got up to go, collecting the book she’d apparently put down to talk to him. It was a thick volume with numbers on the cover, but it didn’t look like math.

Another green ribbon fluttered to the ground, having escaped the pages of the book. Lance bent down to pick it up.

“Here.” He stretched it out to the girl. “Wouldn’t want to lose its pair,” he said with a wink.

“Thanks for reminding me!” She grabbed the ribbon hurriedly, then paused, turning back to Lance. “And for the conversation, I guess.”

Lance grinned at her. She was a little awkward but in an endearing way, like she wasn’t used to having the attention of others on her. Given she empathized with his circumstances in the Institute, it wasn’t that big of a leap to assume that she had trouble making friends.

“Bye bye, Italian girl.” He waved, glad that he could spend these few minutes with her.

“Farewell, Spanish boy.”

Lance meant to correct her about his nationality, but she took out running, clearly late for something. He laughed at the way she stumbled across the uneven ground, careless like a little kid. It was a strange juxtaposition: the thoughtfulness of her earlier words and the childishness of her smile now.

He settled back into the bench, feeling much more content than he’d been earlier. It was nice to talk to people outside of class, for a change.

And, well, Italian girl was pretty. A bit young-looking for him, but he thought guys her age should be tripping over their feet for a chance to talk to her.

“Hey, you’re Lance, right?” A boy had approached while Lance observed the girl disappear from sight. He was tall and robust, with shortly cropped hair, but his expression was friendly. “You’re in my Analytics class.”

It took Lance a second to place him. Analytics was one of the classes Lance struggled with the most, so he hadn’t had as much opportunity to joke around there.

“And you’re Hunk!” Lance snapped his fingers, smiling. “Sit down, man! What can I do for ya?”

Translations:

“No es un acampamiento.Tú sabes que el campo de explotación espacial no está muy desenvuelto en Cuba. Si realmente quieres trabajar con eso, entonces simplemente cállate y no insultes a nadie.” - “It’s not a camp. You know that the field of space exploration is not very well developped in Cuba. If you really do want to work in this area, then simply shut up and don’t insult anyone.”

“¿Cuando he insultado a alguien?” - “When have I insulted anyone?”

“Mira, tengo una reunión con mi orientador. Y tú tienes por lo menos dos artículos para leer para las clases de mañana, ¿por qué no vas a la biblioteca para trabajar un poco? Prometo comprarte una hamburguesa después.” - “Look, I have a meeting with my coordinator. And you have at least two articles to read for tomorrow’s classes. Why don’t you go work for a bit in the library? I promise to buy you a burger later.”

“Me debes más que una hamburguesa y lo sabes, Ronie.” - “You owe me more than a burger and you know it, Ronie.”

“¡Gracias, hermanito! ¡No te arrepentirás!” - “Thank you, little brother! You won’t regret it!”

Cabrón - Bastard

#plance #flirtyrobot #Pidgance #Lidge #Cyance #voltron #vld #vld lance #pidge gunderson #katie holt #voltron legendary defender #vld fanfiction #lance mcclain #vld syl verse

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errthel · 3 years

Text

Route Two

This is my own fanfiction of @tri3tri 's Second Wife Au, but I'm actually not sure about one detail. In the route where Malleus was the one who took MC away from her lovely cottage, I think Lucien was also taken. But in the route where Maleficent was the one who took MC away, there wasn't any explicit saying that she also took Lucien or that he was born, but I just let my imagination run you know. So this is my flair of the Maleficent route of Second Wife AU.

That night when a tall woman took away his family was heavily ingrained into his mind. The fearful look on his mother's face as well as the ones his sister had forcefully rooted him behind the tree he was hiding behind.

The young boy couldn't breath, he was frozen for what seemed like an eternity. It wasn't until long after they left did he run.

He didn't know where to go, he ran and ran, and remembered his grandparents.

But the spiteful looks they had when they saw him and his sisters scared him.

The park that was near his family's cottage was open all day and night, and its rose garden provided the six year old boy comfort.

Once he reached the park, the skies turned pitch dark, if not for the street lamp, he would have been left in the black of the night without the comfort of his family.

He heard the deep breeze of autumn as it lulled him into a deep sleep, uncaring if his body was shivering. He wanted to sleep and wake up from this nightmare.

The bright rays of the sun hit his dirty (h/c) hair. Even with the dirt from a few falls from last night's run, he still looked very good looking. Rubbing off the sand of his face with his small hands as well of dusting off the dirt on his shorts and shirt made him remember his mother. Always fretting when he fell down in their backyard. Her loving gaze as her hand gently rubbed of the soil. His sisters laughing in a light tone as they teased him for being a mama's boi.

The hand that rested on his shoulder as well as the looming shadow that was casted on him brought that fear he felt the night before.

"Lucien... where are your mother and sisters?" the deep gruff voice of his grandfather filled the atmosphere as Lucien's voice started to stick to his throat like honey

As he looked behind him, big fearful (e/c) eyes met sharp (e/c) ones. His grandfather's dark hair amplified his fear as it made him look even more intimidating, he still couldn't bring himself to talk about what had happen last night.

Lucien sharply looked down as tears threatened to spill from his eyes, his mouth clasped together to prevent any of his sobs to leave.

Why was he crying now? Why didn't he do it yesterday? The day he saw his family taken God knows where.

His breathing stopped when he felt his grandfather just lift him up and carry him, awkwardly patting his back as he felt him start to move.

The patting undid the young boy's last defenses, remembering when his mother did that to him, and he just started to bawl his eyes out, albeit silently still afraid of his maternal grandfather.

Somewhere during his grandfather's walk, Lucien's eyes could no longer take it as he was once again lulled into a deep sleep.

He could smell something good, food perhaps... He could feel the weight of the warm blanket as he observed the room he was in.

The ceilings were painted in a warm brown color, the bare walls were in an ivory tone as the dark colored bookshelves held a significant amount of books.

He didn't go far observing the room when the door was swung open, making him bring the blanket above his head.

The light footsteps wasn't like his grandfather's heavy ones, it was more like a womans, must have been his grandmother.

He could sense her placing a bowl or plate onto the side table as she shuffled to the bookshelf and pulling a book out before placing it on the side table.

Lucien only brought his head out when he heard the shutting of the door, looking over to the side table, he saw a tray full of food. It heavily surprised him as he was used to eating small portions due to his mother's meager income.

His eyes trailed to the book, it seemed like a journal and it made him wonder why his grandmother would give him this book. He tried reaching for the book before the grumbling of his stomach stopped him, so he just sat in an Indian sitting position to enjoy his food.

Giving thanks before tucking in his food was something his mother was adamant about, so he gave thanks and looked at the spread that he was given.

The warm grilled fish, the white rice, some pickled vegetables, a small bowl of soup, and a plastic cup that read 'coffee jelly' made him uncomfortable. He didn't know if he could finish it, but to at least thank his grandparents, he tried his best to do that.

Halfway into the meal, he could no longer take it, he felt a foreign feeling, as if his belly was about to burst. Lucien placed down the chopsticks to recover his belly by gently rubbing it.

"Already full?" the voice made Lucien almost jump out of his skin with a little shriek

He looked behind, his eyes as large as saucers as he looked at his grandmother.

She was a beautiful woman, around the age of forty-five, even then the glow of her pale skin and slightly chapped but pink lips brought a youthful look to her. Her (h/c) hair was put into a ponytail while she wore a frilly pink apron.

"Yeah..." unlike his grandfather, Lucien's grandmother was easier to converse with, but her anger knows no bounds as he experienced years ago

"My goodness, she really didn't feed you enough." her sigh as she berated her own daughter reminded Lucien of what she was actually capable of but he couldn't bear someone insulting his mother

"She didn't mean to! She had to feed my sisters as well... I'm fine with eating little..." his voice trailed off as he remembered his sisters

Would he be able to see them ever again? Play with them? He doesn't know...

"Did anything happen to her? Your sisters? Albert went to your house before he looked for you, he saw that it was burnt down." she had a pleading tone to her voice as she gently held his hands

"Ah- I-" his voice was stuck in his throat once more before he calmed down and finally answered, "A tall woman left with them, I wasn't taken because I hid behind a tree..."

"my dear boy... I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she said as she hugged her grandson, her tears running down her face

"W-wh-why?" he managed to croak out, he wondered why they were angry when his mother met with them

"W-we were inconsiderate. I was disappointed and distraught... my daughter went missing for years and came back with children... I'm so sorry..." her incessant crying made Lucien unconsciously bring his hands to her back as he rubbed her back with his small hands

She let go but kept her hands on his, looking at Lucien she asked, "Can we make it up to you? Be the grandparents we were supposed to be?" her hazel eyes pleaded to the young boy who looked down for a moment

"I don't know..." expecting a hit or a shout for his ungratefulness he braced himself for it before he was surprised

"Take your time love."

Looking up, he saw his grandmother leave the room, her white dress trailing behind her. His eyes trailed to the tray, half-full of food, he took up the chopsticks once more and ate the remains of the food, holding back some tears.

His hand a took the unfamiliar plastic cup and he teared its covering before revealing a black gelatinous thing... he took the spoon and took a bite, cringing at its bitterness. He saw another smaller cup and hesitantly opened it, a sweet aroma wafting through, he poured the white liquid and tried again and melted at the taste. The bitterness paired with the delicate sweetness of the cream made his heart lift up into happier spirits.

Afterwards he took the journal onto his lap and started reading it. To his surprise it was his grandparents shared diary. Their thoughts when his mother went missing, their brokenheartedness when she didn't come home from school, the sadness they had each and every day she wasn't there, and their regret when they had let their anger take over when she came back with children.

Lucien felt tears in his eyes as he cried himself to sleep, his eyes were probably puffy from all his crying but he couldn't care less because all he can think of was his family...

Albert came home at dark, his wife sniffling as she came down with an empty tray in hand. Hugging her from behind, he rested his head on her shoulder, his dark locks rubbing against her exposed neck.

"Hanna... how is he?" his deep voice gently asking his significant other

"He's shaken, I broke down infront of him. I-I just can't face him without reminding myself of what I did years ago." she cried before she was stopped by her husband

"It wasn't just your fault. It was also my own. What we can do for Lucien is to be there for him and make it up for him, to support him, and to protect him." Albert said

"Our daughter was taken by someone, as well as our granddaughters... I can just feel like I failed for another time."

Soft snivles came from the woman as her husband stayed strong, the night before he found Lucien, they both received what could be called visions of what had happen to their daughter, intensifying their guilt.

Their daughter was brought into a magical world and was forced into a marriage she didn't desire with a monster, forced to bare his children and when she finally was able to escape another one came following after her, taking her and their granddaughters. Realizing their mistake, Albert went to apologize, but ended up finding a burnt cottage and in the park, a tired and dirty Lucien.

Lucien being the only grandchild they had left and they wanted to fix their past behavior and become better people, for Lucien's sake, for their daughter's sake, for Renata and Sherrie's sake, for their own sake...

#tri3tri #malleus draconia #yandere #twst #twst wonderland #maleficent #disney #lucien

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

Text

domus (epilogue)

a/n: alright, we’re trying this ONE more time before i give up for the week. seems like tumblr tags are having an issue! but anyways, some anons in the past asked for a sort of epilogue/bonus scenes so i wrote down a few as a birthday present to you all. thank you for all the love given over these months!! stay safe, healthy, hydrated and rested.

wc: ~2.4k // part of the domus universe

First date:

“Where are you taking me?” You ask with a grin creeping onto your face. Your eyes capture the blur of the buildings, accustomed to the warm hand laying on your thigh. The appendages squeeze your flesh in a teasing manner, causing you to look over at the man behind the steering wheel. There’s a ghost of a smirk gracing his complexion, and you imagine there’s a twinkle in his gaze behind his sunglasses.

“Do I have to remind you about what a ‘surprise’ means?” He replies and you want to smack him across the arm.

“It’s our first official date, and the only clue I have is the 2 bento boxes by my feet. Are we going on a picnic?”

“Not quite. Be patient,” Keiji playfully scolds, causing you to huff and pout for a bit.

You’re still only 70% sure when he shows off his parallel parking skills, turning the wheel with one hand and another on the back of your seat. It’s slightly concerning how much you miss his touch, but perhaps it’s somewhat resolved when he walks around the front to open your door and offer a hand. You place a wrapped bento in his free hand and grab the other one for yourself, letting him drag you for a block or two.

The surroundings become more and more familiar until you finally spot the large characters on the wall of the building. You send Keiji a curious look and he just sends you a soft smile, walking around the border, through some back alleyway that you didn’t realize existed, until you’re within the walls of your high school. The nostalgia crashes over you, almost having you feel out of place for not being in uniform. But minutes later, when Keiji whips a key out of nowhere and unlocks one of the many side entrances, leading you up the stairs, you find yourselves on the roof.

Zephyrs whip around your figures until Keiji tugs on your hand towards the direction of the wall, the slight overhang of the structure providing some shade and recluse from the sun. He sits against the concrete and dutifully unwraps the meal he so nicely made this time, and you can’t help but lean over and peck him on the cheek. It’s full of delight and unbridled affection, so much so that Keiji can’t fight the slight blush rushing to his cheeks.

You hum around the food in satisfaction (because of course, Keiji is also a decent cook, it’s not fair for someone to be so good at so many things!), munching for a few minutes before asking, “Why here of all places?”

Keiji’s eyebrows furrow somewhat before the wrinkles smooth out. “I’d always wanted to have a meal with you out here when we were still in high school – but there was never a good way or time to ask, and I didn’t want to weird you out.”

“I would’ve said yes, you know?”

“Now I do,” he chuckles. “Eat up, you’ve had a long week.”

Keiji takes you on a mini-tour of sorts, pointing out the classroom he was in and where he sat. He still remembered where Konoha’s desk was, and though Bokuto wasn’t in the same year, he could still tell you which seat was the ace’s. The two of you exchange more stories about your years here, calmly walking down the stairs until he takes you to the gym. The squeaking of sneakers and yells of teenage boys become louder and louder, but before Keiji can push back the flap of the door screen, you tug on his hand.

“Are we allowed? I feel like we’re intruding.”

“Coach knows I’m here – how else did you think I got a key?”

He brings you in before you can protest again, making sure to stay out of sight until there’s a quick water break. Only then does Keiji make his presence known, politely greeting his old coach and exchanging laughs and smiles. He makes sure to introduce you and you quickly bow, unable to contain the smile when Keiji regards you as his girlfriend. The coach makes some small indication that you seemed familiar, and then introducing Keiji to the team. Some of their eyes light up when they hear about him being the setter during the reign of Bokuto Kotarou. It’s endearing, watching your boyfriend meld back into an element of the past that he so fondly misses.

About ten minutes later, the two of you wave goodbye and leave the premises, but not before Keiji makes a cheeky suggestion to go back to his former senior classroom and make out on his old desk. You ignore the flare that ignites in your gut and attempt to hide your fluster with a roll of your eyes. Instead, he pulls you into a secluded corner and crowds over your, leaving you nowhere to run.

But when his lips meet yours and his hands grasp your waist, you can’t imagine having it any other way for a first date.

First night sleeping in bed together

It’s a bit of an accident, if you’re honest. Usually, you’re always able to make it back to your own apartment. But then after the movie was finished and you were two wine glasses in, the alcohol in combination with the shit Friday at work depleted you of all energy. Keiji, ever the doting boyfriend, picked up on your lethargy pretty quickly. He stands from the couch and merely smiles when you whine at the loss of body heat, and with little trouble, carries you bridal style to his bedroom.

“I can take the futon, mmk? He whispers as he makes room for your body, setting you down gently on his mattress. Memories stir of your impromptu visit two years ago as he tucks you in. Despite your best efforts, a wide yawn creeps past your lips as you snuggle into his pillow, letting his scent wash over you.

“Sleep with me,” you murmur, patting the empty space next to you. Keiji can’t help the flutter of his heartbeat at your invitation.

“Are you sure?”

“You’re being silly. We’re dating now, the futon is a no-no,” you sleepily chide. Keiji looks down at himself to make sure he’s wearing clothes that’s comfortable enough to sleep in, then at you for confirmation again. When you’re still wiggling your fingers on his grey sheets, he succumbs to his desires and slides underneath the layers.

Keiji lays on his side facing you, struggling to hear anything over the pounding in his ribcage. You have a hand bent up near your face and the other in front of your chest, quiet breaths leaving your body. He mimics your posture and returns the small grin you give him, brushing away the strands that look slightly displaced.

The calmness that eases into his chest is a feeling he’ll never get tired of. It’s exactly what he’s dreamed of experiencing for the last few years, the serenity in falling asleep next to the person you love. He feels incredibly lucky to be here, in this time, with you of all people. In fact, he hadn’t felt that tired earlier, but exhaustion was quickly approaching him. Before Keiji can fully pass out, he makes sure to intertwine his fingers with your free, upturned ones, squeezing slightly as a gesture of affection.

And when you tighten yours in reply, Keiji closes his eyes in peace.

When Keiji confesses just how long he’s been in love with you

Your first year dating with Keiji simply flies by, and it feels like time won’t slow down soon. Initially he wanted to take you to some fancy sushi restaurant for your anniversary, but when you showed up at his apartment the night before listing all the ways your interim manager was being completely asinine, he figured you just needed something a little more comfortable and calming the next day. So he settles for taking you to your favorite ramen restaurant, the same one he ordered from for you three years ago. It’s small yet intimate – after all, you’re more than wise to understand the significance of this establishment and what it means for the two of you.

You’re quiet on the way home, a little too quiet if Keiji is being honest. Even though you’re just looking ahead of you, there’s a faraway, pensive curtain over your gaze. You’re not holding his hand as tightly as you usually do, and Keiji’s worried that he did something wrong. Maybe he was supposed to take you somewhere nicer, pamper you like the royalty you are, buy roses, gift some jewelry—

“Do you want some ice cream, Keiji?” You ask, ripping him from his mental spiral and pointing a thumb at an ice cream stand.

“Sure,” he nods, and to his dismay, when he fishes out the correct bills, you’ve already ordered and paid.

“Don’t give me that look,” you gently scold after thanking the worker and handing him his cup. “You paid for dinner.”

“It’s our anniversary, I should be paying for everything.”

“Not because you want to?”

“I want to as well, but—”

“And I wanted to pay for the ice cream, Keiji,” you chuckle, proving your point. “I appreciate the gesture though. Come on, there’s a park over there. Let’s go sit at the bench.”

It’s easy to fall into the small talk again, though you seem to think about your answers more. There’s a weight to your words, a carefulness that seems foreign to how candid you usually are with him. The worry returns and sneaks through his veins – he wants nothing more than to just blurt it out, but that’s pushing you and he shouldn’t do that—

“Keiji, you’ll be honest with me, right? You’ll tell me the truth no matter what?” You inquire abruptly, voice timid and hesitant.

Keiji shifts his body to face you better, ready to give you his full attention. Your questions alarm him a little though. “Of course.”

“Okay,” you say, chewing your bottom lip. “Are…areyoutiredofmeyet?”

As soon as the words are rushed out, you’re looking at anything but him. It’s impossible to hide from his stare of disbelief. Things just have been going so well, you couldn’t help the insecurity that was becoming known again. Yes, you’ve healed from the events of breaking up with Kuroo – but that didn’t mean there was a big, glaring scar across the heart on your sleeve. In times like these, it sucked the light out of you and you just needed some validation.

“Look at me,” he gently prods. You’re defiant, shaking your head. But as you always do, you surrender to his touch, succumbing to the pressure that of his hand against your cheek. It’s soft in its cradle, his thumb tenderly caressing over your cheekbone.

“What makes you think that I’m getting tired of you?”

When you show signs of defiance, Keiji leans in closer until his forehead rests against yours, but remains quiet. He wants to give you time, but also let you know that an answer is imperative.

“It’s…nothing specific, really. Just some lingering fear,” you mutter and wring your hands. “It’s happened before, so I guess I wanna make sure that I don’t mess up again or something.”

He shakes his head, mentally listing all the ways he can make you feel more secure in this relationship as time goes on. Keiji figured this was going to happen at some point, but he’d rather it didn’t. The last thing he wanted you to ever think was that he didn’t love you enough – even after all these years, he only feels that his love has reached immeasurable amounts, and it still continues to grow every day.

“I’ve loved you all these years, and I feel like that at the end, we still haven’t spent enough time together. I don’t think you realize how much I want eternity with you,” he whispers, fingers moving to brush your hair away. “You’re everything I want, and I can’t imagine this with anyone else.”

A watery chuckle leaves you. “You’ve really picked up some flowery language from work, haven’t you?”

“The shoujo manga department is just down the hall, I guess I’m bound to pick up something,” he jokes back. “Doesn’t detract from the fact that I mean every word though.”

“…I’m gonna seek validation, alright? It’s inevitable.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m gonna ask you things like, ‘Do you love me?’ or ‘Are you bored of me?’, and I’ll just need a yes or no most times.”

“Well, I’m hoping that I’ll be good enough so that you won’t even have to ask. But okay, I can do that.”

You surge forward and wrap him in your arms. “Thank you, Keiji.”

“Of course. You ready to head back?”

You let him drag you up by the hand, nodding in affirmation. Things are comfortably serene for the first few minutes – Keiji notices that your eyes seem more alive and brighter, a definite contrast to what they were before. But you’re gnawing on your bottom lip again, what’s on your mind now?

“So…um, what was that thing about loving me for years?” Math might’ve not been your strong suit, but you’ve only been together for a year and years is clearly plural…

“Ah, I guess I can’t hide it anymore,” Keiji sighs, though it’s more lighthearted than anything. “I started liking you my first year of high school, and then realized I might love you sometime during my third year. Hasn’t changed since.”

“…so even in the years when I was dating Tetsurou?”

His smile morphs into something gentler and more bittersweet. “More subdued since I accepted we might never be anything more than friends, but then everything happened and you unexpectedly called me to ask if I had dinner yet…I didn’t want to sway you in your decision, but I just wanted to show how much I’ve treasured you all this time, nothing more.”

“Sorry for making you wait,” you apologize with a pout and a squeeze of his hand.

“You don’t need to apologize – I consider it more to be lucky than anything. Incredibly, ridiculously, unnervingly lucky.”

“Well, I hope we have more lucky years ahead of us.”

#akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #akaashi fluff #haikyuu fluff #akaashi x you #akaashi x y/n #hq #edit: OH FINALLY tags

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snarkymonkeyprime · 3 years

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Since I’m firmly entrench in destiel once again, I’ll be brining this fic back as well. I never did settle on a title for it. *ponders*

Anyway, Dean and Cas are rival bakers in the same town and secretly pining. Gabe and Sam hatch SHENANIGANS.

“Hey, Sam! You delivering yet or can I start using you as a coat rack?”

Sam stacked the boxes of pies in the back of the van, securing them as best as he could. He glared around the side of the door. "I’m five feet from you, asshole. Stop shouting.“

Dean grinned. "Oh, good. You can hear.” He trotted out the side door of the bakery, carrying a large cake box. "Last one. Any get messed up, I’m kicking your ass from here to India.“

Bastard, Sam though. He smiled bitterly. "You do this every time, Dean. I’ve delivered for you for what? Five years? Have a messed up one yet?”

Dean scruffed Sam’s hair, cackling when he swatted his older brother away. "And don’t eat the product, Gargantua.“

Scowling, Sam straightened his shirt. "I hate you and everything you stand for,” he said quietly.

Still grinning, Dean ran a hand through his hair, leaving streaks of flour and frosting along his forehead. "This one’s important. It’s the first time a chain store’s picked up my stuff.“

"Puts you right alongside Castiel now, doesn’t it?” Sam prodded with a smirk.

At the name of the cross-town baker, Dean first paled and then blushed. "Like I give a shit what the guy sells. Or where he sells it.“ His jaw tightened. "Whatever. Just…shut up.”

Sam grinned, shutting the van doors and moving to the driver’s side. "You want me to pick up more eclairs while I’m there?“

Shifting like a guilty toddler, Dean muttered, "Five this time,” before darting back into the bakery.

Sam snickered, pulling himself into the driver’s seat. He sighed, dropping the visor to find an old picture of he and Jo and Dean, with Dean doing his usual mugging in the background. "One of these days, Dean,“ he muttered, starting the van, "you need to quit hiding.” He snorted, pulling out onto the street. "Like you’re really hiding anything, you idiot.“ He whistled to himself as he drove off, affectionate amusement keeping him company on the drive to the grocery store.

Sam parked the van in one of the few open street spots and got out, still whistling. He waved to Gabriel where he sat on a nearby bench, a familiar pink box at his hip.

He unlocked the back door and pulled out two pies: one apple and the other marionberry. Without a word, Gabriel held out a fistful of dollars.

“Do you think they’ll ever figure it out?” Sam asked, setting the pies down before fishing out a few bills from his own pocket. He made the exchange and picked up the box of eclairs.

Gabriel snorted. "Seriously? You think my cousin even understands what attraction means?“ He snickered. "The idiot. He moons over these damn pies when he thinks no one’s looking. I mean, yesterday, he finished off that peach pie your brother tried out? I thought the poor idiot would burst into tears.”

Glancing at his watch, Sam realized he still had some time before he had to make his delivery to the market. He sat down beside Gabriel, setting the eclair box across his legs. "Same. Dean acts like Castiel’s nothing to him but I swear he can’t go a day without these.“ He drummed his fingers on the box, pursing his lips. "I say we lock them in a closet until they figure it out.”

Chuckling, Gabriel shook his head. "Good God; I’ve never met a more blind pair.“ He ran a hand through his shaggy hair and commented, "Think we should step in finally? Show them the error of their ways?”

“Jo thinks so.”

Gabriel grinned, making Sam’s heart stutter. "I like Jo. I've always liked that little minx.“

Sam smiled and looked toward the van. “But I hate meddling with Dean’s life. He gets really … pissy.”

“Look up that word in the dictionary you’ll find his picture,” Gabriel muttered. He patted Sam on the shoulder. “Look at it this way; if we don’t do something soon, these two idiots are going to pine over each other through baked goods until they’re both diabetic.” Gabriel wagged a finger. "We’re doing them a favor by pushing the issue. You’ll see.“

It would be nice, actually. Dean had been running at full bore since he was about sixteen. Working as many jobs as he could manage while watching the house and Sam and John. Putting himself through culinary school. Opening the bakery. Handling the marketing. Hell, he doubted his brother even slept at this point. Was it so wrong to try and get him to see a good thing when he barely had a moment to breathe?

It wasn’t like Dean hated Castiel. Whenever they did interact, he was as friendly as anyone. Castiel’s specialty was usually with pastries and foreign desserts. Best baklava Sam had ever had. And Dean had stuck to more traditional fare like cakes and pies. Both did very well in their small town. Rarely competed except at the county fair. But lately, Sam had noticed the lingering gazes Dean sent Castiel’s way whenever possible. And he hadn’t been blind to the shy looks Castiel gave his brother when Dean wasn’t looking.

Sam sighed and nodded. "All right. If you promise Dean won’t try to neuter me, I say we do it.”

“Thank God.” Gabriel stood up, hefting the pies. "If I have to see him moon over one more pie, I will strip him naked and ship him to Dean.“ With a wink, Gabriel saluted Sam and sauntered off.

Shaking his head, Sam rose and returned to his van, setting the eclairs down gently on the seat beside him. He waved again at Gabriel as he slipped into his car. That was the other thing. If he got Castiel and Dean to admit their own attraction, it meant that Sam might be able to do the same with regards to Gabriel. Maybe. Jo had been pushing him to admit his crush for the past few months, careful not to mention it around Dean since Dean and Gabriel – friends or not – tended to snipe at each other seconds after exchanging hellos.

Kind of hypocritical that he was goading Dean and he couldn’t do it either. He pulled a face as he started the van. To be fair, he wanted Dean and Castiel together in order to soften the blow of his own attempts.

Still, he had to wonder if this was the best course of action. Dean never did like it when Sam tried to help him; even if it was just getting him to ask a guy out. So, this was either the best idea he’d had or the worst. “Probably the worst,” he muttered as he started the van. "But I can’t have a geriatric sibling stuffing himself with eclairs until he dies.“

#destiel #sabriel #rival bakers!au #destiel!au #spn fic #deancas #samgabe

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nochanchu · 4 years

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down for you

pairing: wong yukhei x reader genre: best friends to lovers au | fluff, romance, themes of relationship jitters, includes a hookup mention (no smut though!) and overthinking but i promise it’s cute and sweet--hell, there’s a date at disneyland here! wc: 5,184 description: Contrary to common belief, being in a relationship with your best friend isn’t as easy as you’d think. It’s new territory for the both of you; luckily, you have him to remind you that it’s all learning process that you two are taking together. author’s note: hey y’all! em here randomly dropping a fic i’ve had in the works for like two-ish years now? here i am! maybe i’ll even wind up writing more~

Sometimes you have to ask yourself if dating Wong Yukhei is a good idea, if the executive decision to cross boundaries from the “Should we try this?” to the “Holy fuck, are we actually trying this?” is worth the awkwardness of transitioning.

It’s not weird. Per se. It’s more… different.

There are things you’ve done with him that you don’t think twice about like going out to boba places or spending twelve consecutive hours at the 24-hour library on campus. They’re like secondhand nature. You don’t have to overthink when you hit him up at 2 AM to go grab some coffee or if something’s just weighing on your mind and you just need a distraction. Whereas, there are still things that you aren’t quite sure about like kissing or holding his hand. Like you really fuckin’ want to, but another part of you wonders if this is the point of no return. If you metaphorically consummate this agreement that you’ll be losing him if things fall to shit.

Perhaps it helps that you’ve only known him for a couple of years. Somehow forging a friendship with one another after only a few obligatory discussions in a comparative literature class you both breezed through as easily as you both seemed to formulate a bond over a hot pot place up near the state’s capital city, because “if there’s one place everyone needs to try for hot pot, then that is the place.” (His words, not yours, but you agreed nonetheless.) You can vaguely recall how tentative conversations about homework stopped being about homework and more about what kinds of things you like, where you both hung out, and who you both knew, because unbeknownst to either of you, Dong Sicheng would be the bridge over the small gap between you two.

Because once Sicheng became a variable in the equation, suddenly it wasn’t just study hangouts together, it was coming out at ungodly hours for caffeine and snack food from all the best places in town. It was the necessary transition to be where you both are now, and it was the very push that essentially established a something-more and something-that-could-be, that has led you down this path of hand-holding and shy pecks when you think (and hope) no one else is watching.

The very thought of a relationship with Wong Yukhei still gets to you too. Not only has he single handedly integrated himself into your life as your best friend, he’s become your significant other. Your boyfriend. Your boo. Your… something (everything). And, realizing just how easily he has transitioned his way across your life makes you queasy and nervous, bringing forth a new bundle of emotions you locked away so long ago.

When you look at him, you ask yourself if this is something you should be doing, if what you’re really doing by participating with your best friend is truly okay, and if or when this comes to an end, will you be ready to deal with those consequences? You ask yourself if holding his hand and kissing his lips feel right or if running his hands through your hair or if his large, firm hands on your hips should feel that foreign.

You see happiness and possibility with him, but at the very same time, you fear for the crash and burn—

“You okay?” Yukhei asks with his eyes trained on you. His once far steps begin to match your slowed pace, no longer as excited as they once were for the tea cups.

The two of you have been abandoned by the rest of the group for obvious reasons, and somehow it does not bring you as much comfort as you once confided to Sicheng. In fact, the lack of tomfoolery and rowdiness that the rest of the group brings actually emphasizes the sudden stiffness that you’ve been trying to avoid since arriving at LAX. Although this trip has been planned months in advance, the development of your relationship with Yukhei is still new.

Back at home, it’s too easy to let yourself fall into that small comfort of interlocked fingers and the small shared smiles of camaraderie in your classes. You don’t think twice about it when no one else is around, and yet knowing that everyone else is traipsing around Disneyland while you’re both off doing your own thing makes you feel exposed. Like they know you guys are together, and yet you don’t know what they’re thinking about you two. The most frustrating part of it all is that you don’t usually care about what people think when it comes to you. Your relationships are merely an extension of you, so how this bothers you as much as it does, still doesn’t quite register in your brain all that well.

You know everything’s okay with him. You haven’t had issues over dumb things or really any issues at all. You can’t even deny that things have gone surprisingly well since his confession to you a few months back. In many ways, it has felt like a long time coming, and just about everyone in your shared friend group can agree. But now that it’s here, present and glaringly so, you’re actually quite nervous.

He says your name.

Instead of at the three-foot distance you could’ve sworn you two were at, his voice reaches you by the shell of your ear. The deep, huskiness articulating your name as it has plenty of times before elicits a sudden jump of surprise from you in response.

You flash him a glare when he lets out an abrupt snort and half of a hearty laugh.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says with the corners of his lips twitching. “But seriously, are you okay? You seem a little uneasy. Is it the crowd?”

You look up from a stray gum wrapper just as a few passersby brush against you two in an attempt to get to the teacups that’ve been calling Yukhei’s name since you both arrived at the amusement park. The prick of guilt surges over you as the line looks like you’ve both missed your shot at riding the multi-colored pastel cups this time, you respond with a sheepish laugh.

“No, no, I’m fine. I’m sorry for making you miss the ride though.”

He doesn’t look particularly convinced which is to be expected with all the time you’ve spent together, but he still waves off your apology with a casual grin. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and guides you down the lane toward the line, so neither of you miss the line on the next session.

“No need to be sorry, there’s always a next time,” he says with a small glance your way. You meet his look very briefly before looking back at the spinning machines coated in soft shades of pinks, blues, and yellows. He leans in once more though you don’t jump (thankfully) to ask, “Are you sure you’re alright though?”

You nod, tentatively wrapping your arm around his waist. “The crowd’s no biggie for me. It’s not actually that bad right now.”

“Is it something else then?” When you half-heartedly shake your head, he raises an eyebrow at you. “You can tell me if something’s wrong.”

You blink as his gaze meeting yours does not waver. He never fails to surprise you even when you think he isn’t paying attention. It’s like the time he knew when you were disappointed about your first physics midterm and when you failed your driving test the first time you took it. As soon as he received the half-hearted text message about your failure, he was right over with milk tea and your favorite stew from that one phở place you both love. His perceptive eye almost always catches you when you least expect it, whether that’s when you’re hiding your true emotions or needing someone’s shoulder to lean on. He just knows how to decipher you and your safeguards. And at this moment, you’re not sure whether you love it or hate it right now.

Because the offer tempts you. Of course, you don’t like keeping things from him. You’ve come to a point in your relationship where you can tell him everything and just about anything isn’t off the table, though this has long since been a thing even before you both decided to give romance a shot. Being “together” together doesn’t change that. It shouldn’t. That’s what you both agreed on. Truthfully, you just can’t tell if it is just you struggling to adjust or if he was just that good at hiding how he really felt, because again, he surprises you more than you like to admit. And that thought is enough for you to back off, the self-assurance of your own thoughts telling you that he would tell you if that were the case.

“I’m fine, I promise.” You try to smile, knowing fully well how fruitless the gesture is but still deciding to try it out anyway.

He’s obviously still unconvinced. But the longer he looks at you expectantly, the more you grow silent as a power play response.

If there’s one thing Wong Yukhei hates, it’s silence. It unnerves him. He needs something to fill the air, otherwise he can’t help but fidget. It’s why you can’t study too long together, because then neither of you will get anything done. And it’s especially why he heaves a sigh before amending the situation.

“You’re super sure then?”

You simply nod and he leaves the topic be as you both wait to get on the ride.

Waiting in such a public area doesn’t give either of you much cover. In fact, it leaves you both out in the open, like fish laid out to dry on a burning hot summer day or deer prancing in an open road. It’s as though Fate wanted you both to get spotted, much to your displeasure.

There’s a chorus of raucous laughter and shrill shrieks that could only belong to the loudest mouths of the bunch as soon as you and Yukhei inch forward. The sounds are too familiar for your liking, eliciting only a glare in the direction of all the ruckus as you and the very tall, very noticeable man besides you gives a sheepish wave of his own as your group of friends drinks both your interlocked hands and close proximities in like dehydrated flowers.

“Hey lovebirds!” Yuta pipes up, accompanied by his girlfriend. She’s almost sympathetic to your embarrassment if it weren’t for how cute you and Yukhei looked together, then she might’ve helped you out by calming the excited ash blond whose hand is entwined in her own.

They’re cute and admirable, a perfect example of friends to lovers, though with some minor adjustments—some of which was Yuta’s initial position as her Japanese tutor before finding the courage to ask her out compared to yours and Yukhei’s initial drunk sex-capade, a detail that you still have yet to come to a proper conclusion on, because how could things be so different from then to now? You almost wished you two hadn’t done the deed and instead started things off normally like confession without the pretenses of messing around in the background. But you decide not to indulge in retaliation, merely releasing Yukhei’s hand and stretching your limbs in front of you before resting your hands behind your head.

Sicheng very briefly catches your eye as if to ask you if things are going alright, but you ignore him and the audible groans from the others at the lack of skinship between you and Yukhei. You know they’ve been dying for yours and Yukhei’s relationship since the group started and finally took notice of your close friendship. But while you relished in this unification between your respective friend groups, which so easily blended together, you kind of wished it didn’t create such an immense pressure on you to fall into those standards of what couples do and how they’re supposed to act around one another.

Even if the embarrassment is wholly eating at you, their departure is something you relish in as you and Yukhei are prompted into the ride, leaving behind your friends and their incessant teasing.

“Ah, don’t mind them,” he tells you.

You give him a small nod, which causes him to place his palm atop your head for a couple of a seconds. It earns him a smile, even if it does not wholly reflect the thoughts inside your head.

At the very least, getting on the teacups changes the mood.

Being that it is his first time there, and you’re a Disneyland veteran, you have made it your own personal goal to give him the full experience. Like everyone else flying at unmeasurable speeds, you start off by grabbing hold of the steering wheel between you and the ash blond man, giving the warm metal several good turns to get the canary yellow teacup spinning. This keeps the momentum up, moving you both so rapidly, you don’t even realize how closely it has brought you together until you can hear his laughter at your side and one of his hands covers yours to join in on the spinning.

It stays like that too. Even after you both have exited off the ride, you both shakily navigate around the park in search of another ride to quench your thrill-seeking taste buds.

When you look up, you find him already staring at you and looking away from you all in the same moment. It makes you laugh, but you try not to exacerbate the teasing or the pink in his cheeks as you two pass through the vicinity. He has these moments where you've caught him looking at you; at first, you assumed it was because there might've been something on your face that you didn't catch before walking out of your dorm, and eventually, it became abundantly clear that he was simply trying to capture the moment. Last time you shared a moment like this, you both crossed the bridge from friends to lovers, and now you two were at the point of no return.

“What do you wanna do next?” you ask him.

You needed to break the moment. It helped to blink, just so you wouldn't fall back into your previous disposition. You didn't want to worry him, you didn't like to. It wasn't like he meant for things to happen as they did. He hadn't been one to initiate the hook-up, though he consented and reciprocated with as much fervor as you had. He had blurted out his confession shortly afterwards; it was quick, slurred together because his heart was probably ready to jump out of his chest when he realized it was now or never. Either you two would have done that or acted as if nothing had happened, and truthfully, you don't think you could've done the latter. Not when all your feelings seemed to sit in your throat, ready to jump out.

Truthfully, you've been one to admit your feelings to those you admired, but never with close friends. You had never liked your close friends. It wasn't some kind of unspoken rule or anything. It was just a matter of keeping romantic and platonic relationships from being one; it was easier this way, less messy in case things went awry. Close friends were hard to come by, relationships always complicated things to a point where you didn't know whether you had the same person in your life. Previous significant others had used secrets of yours against you; they would take what they wanted from you and leave, and it all hurt like a bitch.

It hasn't with Yukhei, you reassure yourself. And it truly hasn't.

He's looking at you with a goofy grin spread across his handsome face. He tells you, “Whatever you want to do."

The gesture is contagious, and you begin to feel butterflies fluttering inside your stomach.

“You’re technically the expert here, so you take the reign,” he adds, running a hand through his hair. You know he doesn't want to do the wrong thing with you, partially from the group's advising and also because relationships just take that kind of patience. You two have spent a long time being friends, enjoying each other's presence without the same expectations as you two have now. Of course, it's a little different. Of course, you two can expect to be a little nervous. It's untouched territory, you have to remind yourself. You're both figuring shit out.

You don't want to freak him out, so you try to keep the banter up. It isn't hard when he's as expressive and funny as he is. It even helps you push aside all of these floating thoughts a little longer.

“Don’t I always?” you snicker as his jaw drops. It’s moments like this that are reminiscent of your relationship prior to now. Back then, it was easy to have flirty banter, because any sort of intention was simply in the background. It wasn’t mandated by your relationship status; instead it sort of just happened. It didn’t happen because it needed to. It happened because you two wanted it to happen.

He tries to muster up a serious enough tone, but you can hear the whine in it. The sound earns him another laugh from you. “No! I’m pretty sure I’ve had a fair share of being the leader,” he says, with a slight puff to his chest.

Tapping your chin, you reply, “I suppose so.”

The gesture exacerbates his dramatics by earning you a guffaw.

“I do! I may not be the Disneyland expert, but I can make a suggestion.” He tilts his head, ever-so-slightly. “Yeah?”

You stop tapping your chin to wave him on and his hand takes that hand into his. “Of course, you can!”

As he interlaces your fingers with his, you have a mild suspicion that he’s going to lead you to the Silly Symphony Swings. Only mild because it’s rather close and you could see that it was something he had his eyes on since you two arrived.

Something about the ride is reminiscent of him, perhaps he gravitates to them for the opportunity to make his childhood dream of flying come true. It was a superpower he mentioned during one of those god awful ice breakers on the first day of that comparative literature class, and something he went into further detail when you guys had your previous hangouts, before this relationship ordeal.

“Trying to fly, Superman?” You indulge in his desire to swing your arms. He loves it, practically bouncing as you two walk between the crowds.

“It’s just like how you make me feel,” he says, giving you a twirl as you approach the line. "Is that okay?"

It's so becoming of Yukhei to still ask if something is okay. You remember him mentioning how he used to get scolded for being too much with previous partners, always one for the cheesy gestures like twirling a loved one in those romantic comedies or quoting the absolutely cringey lines from movies just for the laughs. You found--and still do find--it endearing; the others not so much.

“Of course,” you say, laughing just as loudly as he does. “I can't control your feelings, silly."

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, "is that okay?"

You nod, almost ready to shut your eyes when he kisses the top of your head.

Moments like this serve to remind you that he still has your best interests in mind. He cares a whole fuck ton about you, and no change to your and his relationship status can ever alter that. He hasn’t changed into a completely different person like one assumes would happen in a relationship between friends, so why should you?

This feels right. The giggles, the weightlessness, his hand in yours.

You two finally catch up with your group for lunch at one of the all too expensive restaurants in the park. Since it is Yukhei’s first time there, you don’t mind it so much, as it is an experience you think people should have at least once.

Yuta eyes the two of you, seemingly ready to let loose another witty observation before his girlfriend shoves a French fry into his mouth. She smiles sweetly to him before flashing you an apologetic look.

You must’ve appeared a little disgruntled already. The time with Yukhei was both lovely and nerve-wracking, because a small but rather haunting part of you couldn't stop wondering if your time separated from the group would upset them. After all, they had extricated themselves from the two of you so you and Yukhei could spend more time together. What if you two had overindulged?

A part of your stomach churns as you and Yukhei take a seat beside the teasing boy. Being back with everyone begins to remind you of the initial doubts you had, the very ones you’ve had bubbling inside of you. And it makes you feel worse when you feel Yukhei reach for your hand across the table, because everyone is there, watching, waiting, and worst of all, expecting the two of you to be some sort of perfect, lovey dovey couple going through their honeymoon phase.

Maybe you guys should be, maybe it’s fine. You want to believe it is, but somehow the way you waver to hold hands, incites another comment.

“Trouble in paradise, love birds?” Yuta asks, raising an eyebrow at you two.

You give him a sidelong glance and shake your head.

“We’re fine,” Yukhei pipes in. He seems to overtake your thumb then, and he gives a short victory giggle, mainly to himself. It makes the corners of your lips twitch, though you stop short just as you hear Yuta speak again.

“Are you sure?” he inquires, looking at you this time.

“We’re fine,” you add, with a huff, “really.”

Yuta still seems to watch you both, though everyone else makes work of doing the same. It unsettles you just how much your relationship feels like it’s under a microscope, one wrong move and suddenly things are blown out of proportion.

Perhaps that's another reason why you aren't prone to going out with friends. The idea of a relationship having such an audience unsettles you. You like your privacy and keeping that kind of business under wraps. These things are supposed to be intimate, accepted if the partner is a good person for you (which Yukhei is on all levels), and yet, you feel like your relationship is proceeding jaggedly, because of the hyper-fixation.

You sigh, having already let go of Yukhei's hand once you and the others received your food. And the sigh doesn't go unnoticed either. You have a few glances from Yuta and Sicheng, Yukhei too, but you stand up and excuse yourself to the restroom.

Despite it being on the left, you take a right to get away from the restroom itself.

You manage to navigate through the crowd and remain within reach of the restaurant by hiding out in one of the souvenir shops that you and the others planned on visiting near the end of your visit. There's an assortment of Disney ears, stuffed animals from nearly all the movies, and things of that nature.

The ears have always caught your eye, the pink glittery ones, the blue ones. They're all made with different designs, based off of the various movies made by Disney and Pixar, and they remind you of a simpler time where relationships were yours, not part of an audience and watched. They also remind you of yours and Yukhei's mutual love for the movies; one of the main tipping points in your transition from classmate acquaintances to budding friends. His favorite had been the sweet and fun Hercules, while you heavily shared a love for that one, Treasure Planet definitely had your heart. Both were stories of characters trying to find their own in the world. You smile to yourself.

You’re just about to check your phone and update your friends and Yukhei about where you are when you see him. Your ash blond boyfriend who gives a small wave.

“Hey you,” he says as he makes his way beside you. He paws through the ears, probably to see if there are any Hercules-themed ears.

“Hey,” you say, wishing you had found one just to give it to him. You decide to check for those on Etsy sometime later, or one of those Instagram boutiques, just to see him light up.

“Doin’ okay?” he asks, stopping his search when he realizes it’s futile and looks at you.

You don’t say anything, giving a shrug. “I’m sorry,” you say.

“Talk to me,” he prods gently. “If that’s okay?”

“I’ve been worried about us,” you admit. “Not that I don’t want this or you. I do. I’m just so uncertain about this whole thing.”

“That’s no reason to be sorry, you know,” he says. He offers a hand to you, an escape from the shop for more privacy, which you take. It's a brief walk to a seating area not too densely populated by the park visitors. It’s a bench beneath some of the all too perfect-looking shrubbery, where there are red little flowers with yellow dot-like centers to make it even more picture perfect.

As soon as you two sit down, you immediately ask, “Did we fuck up by not confessing first?”

He shakes his head. “I think what we did was still special, even if it wasn’t very conventional to the kind of relationship we think should have. But I think whatever relationship we have, whatever start, is still pretty damn special.”

Your hand is still in his, and he gives yours a squeeze.

“Aren’t you worried?”

He lets loose a shaky laugh, “Of course I am. Relationships are so terrifying and new. I’m scared shitless wondering if I’m doing anything okay. That’s why I keep asking. I don’t ever want to put you in a situation where you feel uncomfortable or obligated in any shape or form. But you know what?”

You nod for him to go on. You didn’t realize he was feeling similar jitters.

“As scared and nervous as I am, I’m just as excited to begin this new journey with you wherever it takes us. And if you don’t think you’re ready for it, then I’m fine backing off, taking things easy, or even trying to go back to the way things were. It wouldn't be the exact same, but again, I don’t want you to feel obligated to be in this relationship if it isn’t something you feel like doing.”

“I want to,” you tell him. “I do. I really want to see how this goes, because you’re an amazing guy, Yukhei. I didn’t even realize you were scared too. I guess just thinking back on previous relationships and how we came to be got me overthinking. This is new for me. I’ve never dated a best friend before. If anything, that’s probably the most terrifying part about this. I don’t know what’ll happen by the end of it, if that comes and I don’t know when or if it will. But just not knowing drives me crazy.”

“I mean, you were willing to consider that, so that says something, right? That you’re willing to take a leap of faith and see where we go together?” he asks, rubbing circles on your hand with his thumb. “I think us not being best friends anymore would suck, indefinitely. I think you’re one of my favorite people in this world, next to my mom.” You laugh just as he smiles. “But I think whatever happens happens because it’s meant to. We’ll be in each other’s lives, no doubt. I think it’d take time and space, but also communication if we wanna get through whatever pops up, yeah?”

“Yeah, you make a good point there,” you say, considering everything he’s said. It sounds like your rational side aloud. “I’m sorry for being such a mess.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve been freaking out, wondering if I was doing something wrong. Being too much. If it wasn’t that, then I thought maybe I was being too much of a worrywart, but I’m sorry for not picking up on how you were feeling.”

“You couldn’t have known unless I told you,” you point out. “Plus, another thing that’s been bugging me has been how doting our friends have been for some reason.”

Yukhei agrees, “They have been, especially Yuta.”

“I know it’s all in good fun, but I’ve been hypersensitive to it all. This whole trip has been giving me the jitters. I don’t know, it seems so silly,” from Yukhei’s look, it doesn’t see it so casually, which comforts you, “okay, not so silly, but it seems so odd to think that it wouldn’t be super easy to be with you. You’re great and I like that we can finally be honest with ourselves and our feelings, but somehow I expected best friends transitioning to a relationship to be less awkward?”

“I’m sorry he’s been bugging you so much,” you give a shrug since you know Yuta means no harm by it, “I get what you mean. All the movies make this seem like it should be super easy and super perfect.”

“Doesn’t it feel like we should be in our honeymoon phase already?”

“Like the whole ‘I love you so much,’ ‘no, you hang up,’ and then that weird game of wanting to hang up but not wanting to hang up?”

You both laugh at the ridiculousness. Neither of you are like that, kudos to those who are and can be, but it isn’t you guys. You laugh over silly things, nerd out over movies you love, break out in song and dance when the song absolutely calls for it. You guys have your own way of doing things, and even Yukhei understands the pressures and the uncertainties, and yet, he’s still more than willing to work through them and find ways that will.

“You think we can make this work?” you ask, letting go of his hand because yours has gone a little clammy.

He nods, “It helps with communication.”

You laugh sheepishly as he pulls you into a hug. “No matter how you’re feeling I’m more than happy to hear what you have to say and I will try my damn hardest to help.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, but he simply kisses your forehead after letting go of you.

“I only want the best for you, silly. No apology needed.”

In response, you simply pull him in for a kiss. It’s sweet and chaste, still different and new, but comforting all the same. He reciprocates, smiling into the kiss.

Whatever thoughts you had earlier, you find that they don’t weigh as heavy on your shoulders anymore. Of course, it’s going to take some learning and communicating, but you’re as just as glad as he is that you guys get to do this thing together.

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