— A place to belong
A/N: A vignette I wrote fully inspired by @stan-wlw 's beautiful art here. <3 Please go give it the love it deserves! This piece in particular imprinted on my memory, so it's about time I write a little something for it! (Note: Sun is an old measurement for length used in Edo-period Japan that converts to roughly three centimeters or a little over an inch. I use it instead of modern measurements, but it may not have been used at the time in literature to describe a distance like I do here.)
Oyuki’s eyes flutter shut slowly as she leans into Atsu’s touch. Lips slightly parted, waiting patiently for Atsu to close the space between them. Utterly beautiful in her openness. Her pull is magnetic: like the sweetest of songs she plays on her shamisen, inviting Atsu to sink into it; to breathe in the melody, let it reach her heart. Irresistible. Atsu slides her hand down Oyuki’s shoulder to the neckline of her yukata, holding the edge of it with a feather-light touch. The loose fabric gives way to smooth, warm skin under Atsu’s fingertips, beckoning her further. She stops right on the edge of the promise of Oyuki’s rising and falling chest, the swell of her breast mere suns away. The thought of slipping the fabric down from Oyuki’s shoulders right away is tempting—almost overwhelmingly so—, but Atsu wants to sink into this quiet moment before going further. To feel Oyuki’s lips on hers. To kiss her slowly and sweetly, with no rush in the world. They have time. Time, which before was running shorter each day, death waiting for Atsu to join her parents in a flash of cold steel: either that of her enemies’ or her own. An inevitability that she thought was set in stone from the moment her life burned down with her family’s ginkgo tree. No more. Atsu lives in the present now. The ginkgo tree survived, and so did she. Oyuki’s presence makes it easier to slip into this new life that Atsu never thought was meant for her. A contentedness that was never hers to claim. For her to feel… happy. At times, she still can’t quite believe it. The ghosts of the past linger in her mind even now, but each day, they grow a little quieter—pushed aside by what Atsu has in her life now. Kiku, Oyuki… a family. A place to belong. Right here, in Oyuki’s arms. Atsu closes the space between them, brushing her lips over Oyuki’s slowly, each move deliberate. She savors this contact, their one-of-a-kind connection. Oyuki responds earnestly, matching each of Atsu’s movements heartbeat by heartbeat. No imagination will ever compare to the real caress of Oyuki’s lips—sweet and oh so attentive, like Atsu was the most precious thing to her in the world. The sensation leaves Atsu’s head swimming every time. Time blurs, as does the world around them. When the spark in their kisses grows to a deep-set fire steady in its purpose, Atsu’s hand slides down further, eager to embrace every part of Oyuki’s body. And to share her body and spirit in turn. No more hasty, desperate touches with strangers in hunt of a quick release on the streets of Ōsaka, but making love, tenderly. Holding someone so close to your heart that you never want to let go. “I love you, Yuki,” Atsu whispers, the confession a warm breath against Oyuki’s lips. Her reply comes sweet, its sincerity even more striking than the fire between them. “I love you, too, Atsu. More than anything.”
