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Gaku’s supposed to be resting. You’re supposed to be minding your business. Instead, there’s a PSP on the floor, a leg over his shoulder, and a slow war of who’ll break the peace first. Spoiler: it’s both of you.
Well, quiet in the kind of way that only happens after the world’s been screaming for too long. After the gunpowder fades and the adrenaline dries on skin. The kind of quiet that hums, not with peace, but with the ghost of it.
The curtains are half-drawn. City light sneaks through the gaps, painting the floor in fractured gold and blue. Dust floats lazily in the air, catching the soft glow from the TV that the only real source of movement in the room.
Gaku sits cross-legged on the floor, back resting against the couch. His PSP glows faintly in his hands, the screen reflecting against his sharp jawline, the cut of his cheekbones. He’s half bare, shirt tossed somewhere behind him, a casualty of comfort. Scars stretch like stories across his shoulders, pale lines that speak of every fight he walked away from. His hair’s a messy halo, and there’s that ever-present furrow between his brows – the one that never leaves, even when he’s pretending to relax.
You’re sprawled across the couch behind him, half on your back, one leg bent and the other draped lazily over his shoulder. A phone in one hand, a half-polished blade in the other. Your attention flits between both, the rhythm of multitasking so second-nature you don’t even notice how domestic the moment feels.
He grunts, thumbs pressing hard against the controller. “This boss fight’s rigged. No way he regenerates again. I hit him five times already.”
You hum, eyes still on your phone. “Maybe you just suck.”
He doesn’t even blink. “Big words for someone who rage-quit during the tutorial.”
“I was distracted.”
“Yeah?” His smirk cuts through the dim light. “By the menu screen?”
You glance down at him, half-amused. “Keep talking and I’ll test how durable your skull is.”
He hums, a lazy, amused sound from deep in his chest. “I’d let you try.”
You shift your leg, thigh brushing against his cheek. The contact is nothing, but it roots him. He leans into it, unconsciously, and for a heartbeat his focus falters. If anything, he leans into it. His thumb freezes on the joystick for a second before his free hand drifts, fingers tracing idle circles along your thigh like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s absentminded. And somehow, intimate enough to make the air heavy.
You don’t look up. “Gaku.”
“Mhm?” He doesn’t stop tapping on his PSP. “What?”
“Stop.”
“Stop what?” His tone’s too innocent to be believable.
You sigh, toss your phone onto the couch beside you, and because he’s earned it, you tighten your legs around his cheeks just enough to squish.
He lets out a startled noise halfway between a laugh and a protest, voice muffled. “You serious right now?”
“You were asking for it.”
“Can’t even fight like this,” he says, words smushed. “Total sabotage.”
“Skill issue.”
That earns you a snort. He shifts slightly then, because he’s a nuisance, turns his head and presses a light nip against your thigh. Not hard. Just enough to make your breath catch.
“Gaku,” you warn, tone sharp but soft around the edges.
He hums low. “What? Didn’t do anything.”
“Pretty sure you know exactly what you did.”
“Sure about that?” he mutters, lips ghosting against your skin, grin audible in his voice.
You sigh, squishing his cheeks again, gentler this time, just enough to remind him who’s winning. He laughs through it, muffled.
“Keep talkin’,” he says, eyes still glued to the screen. “See what happens.”
“Big words for someone losing to an NPC.”
He chuckles, finally pausing his game. “Low blow.”
“True blow.”
“Annoying.”
He tips his head back against your thigh, tilting just enough to look up at you. His grin is there, lazy and laid-back, but there’s something quieter underneath. Something softer.
“You like me annoying,” he says, voice low yet teasing.
You click your tongue, reaching down to ruffle his hair. It’s softer than it looks – thick, slightly damp at the ends from a half-hearted shower. He hums at the touch, eyes fluttering shut like it’s a reflex he can’t fight.
“You really don’t shut up, huh?” Your voice is quieter now, teasing but steady.
He huffs a short laugh. “If I did, you’d get bored.”
You smirk faintly. “You think too highly of yourself.”
“Someone’s gotta balance your ego.”
You flick his ear. He grins wider. It’s stupid, familiar, grounding.
The controller clatters quietly against the floor as he lets it fall away, head tipping back to rest against your leg. The blue glow softens across his face, tracing the curve of his jaw and the quiet exhaustion tucked beneath his eyes.
For once, he’s still.
“You done losing yet?” you ask, voice light.
“Nah.” He exhales, eyes closing. “Just charging up.”
You snort quietly, running your thumb over the edge of his ear, tracing down to his jawline. “Sure. Denial looks good on you.”
His eyes close, voice softening, just barely. “Can’t rush recovery, y’know.”
You look down at him, at the faint smile that doesn’t quite hide how tired he is. There’s something achingly human about this man who used to live off adrenaline now leaning against you like a cat in the sun.
Outside, the city buzzes – sirens, engines, the faraway echo of life going on. Inside, it’s just you and him. No orders. No blood. No mission. Just a man who’s done terrible things leaning into quiet like he doesn’t know what to do with it.
You don’t move, and neither does he.
For once, Gaku doesn’t look like a weapon. He just looks human. Unarmed in every way that matters.
And as the glow from the TV flickers across the walls, you realize that maybe this messy, quiet, chaotic peace is the closest either of you will ever get to home.
Story where Nagumo slowly falls in love with the reader in JCC.
Reader who's ignoring all his flirty words but then gave in and slowly fall in love with him
Part 1/2 ʚଓ Part 2
Silly extra hcs after 2 parts!
───୨ৎ─────୨ৎ───
The corridors of JCC were always alive with energy. Footsteps echoed down the sterile halls, the chatter of students filled the air, and the occasional clang of sparring weapons punctuated the day like a heartbeat. To most, it was just another day of training in one of the most elite institutions for assassins.
But to Nagumo Yoichi, the day always brightened the moment his gaze found you.
It had been this way ever since you first walked into orientation — confident, focused, a spark in your eyes that made you stand out from the sea of recruits. At first, Nagumo didn’t think much of it. He’d seen plenty of talented people come and go. But there was something about you that held his attention.
And against his usual habits of acting aloof and detached, he found himself… interested.
During training, you could feel his eyes on you.
When you were perfecting your knife throw, Nagumo leaned casually against the wall, smirking whenever you hit the bullseye. When you sparred, his gaze followed you like a hawk, though he always pretended to look away whenever you caught him.
“Yoichi, you’re staring again,” Rion sing-songed one afternoon, plopping herself down beside him on the training bench. She twirled a strand of her hair and raised her brows knowingly.
“I’m observing,” Nagumo replied smoothly, though the grin tugging at his lips gave him away. “Can’t a guy appreciate skill?”
Rion snorted. “Skill? Please. You’ve got it bad, Nagumo. You keep drooling every time she walks past.”
“I don’t drool.” His smile widened anyway.
Across the room, Sakamoto sat silently polishing his weapon, but his sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing. He glanced at Nagumo, then at you, and said nothing. As usual.
Nagumo wasn’t the type to hold back when he wanted something.
“Nice form out there,” he said one evening after class, sliding up beside you with a grin. “Almost as sharp as your jawline.”
You blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying, if you keep this up, I might have some competition,” he teased, tapping his chin. “Though I’m not sure anyone could really outshine me.”
You rolled your eyes, not even slowing your pace as you walked past him. “You’re unbelievable.”
But Nagumo just chuckled, following two steps behind. “That’s not a no.”
It became a routine. He’d drop little compliments, sly remarks, playful jabs. You brushed them off, sometimes with a scoff, sometimes with silence. He didn’t seem discouraged in the slightest.
“Nagumo, you’re trying too hard,” Rion said one morning, watching as he deliberately sat next to you in class despite rows of empty seats.
Nagumo leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Persistence is a virtue, Rion.”
“You mean annoyance,” you muttered, earning a laugh from her.
But even then, you couldn’t deny it — there was something about his carefree charm that kept slipping through your defenses.
For three weeks, he never stopped.
The glances, the compliments, the casual ways he’d “happen” to bump into you in the cafeteria or walk beside you after training. He didn’t push too hard, but he never gave up either.
And maybe it was the way he always smiled when he saw you. Maybe it was the way he never let Rion’s teasing get to him, or how even Sakamoto’s silence didn’t discourage him. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the butterflies you pretended not to feel when his eyes lingered on yours a little too long.
Whatever it was, you finally gave in.
It was after sparring practice. You were sitting alone on the bench, catching your breath, when Nagumo wandered over with his usual lazy grin.
“Want some water?” he asked, holding out his bottle.
You hesitated, then sighed and took it. “Thanks.”
That single word — thanks — seemed to light him up. His grin softened into something less teasing, more genuine.
“So…” he started, dropping down beside you. “You finally talking to me, huh? I was starting to think you hated me.”
“I don’t hate you,” you muttered. “You’re just… persistent.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said brightly. “Persistent is good. Means I don’t give up easily.”
This time, you didn’t walk away.
From that day on, things shifted.
You found yourself talking to him more — small conversations at first, then longer ones. He’d walk with you after class, crack jokes that sometimes made you laugh despite yourself, and share bits about his own training.
One afternoon, Rion caught the two of you sitting together under a tree, sharing snacks. She smirked knowingly, elbowing Sakamoto as she whispered, “Told you. He wore her down.”
Sakamoto didn’t respond, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
Nagumo was different when it was just the two of you. He still teased, still flirted, but there was a gentleness under it all. He listened when you talked. He remembered the little things you mentioned — your favorite food, the book you were reading, the way you liked to tie your hair when training.
And somewhere along the way, you stopped fighting the butterflies.
It was late evening when he asked you to meet him on the rooftop.
The sun was sinking, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. You leaned against the railing, watching the light fade, when Nagumo appeared beside you.
“Nice view, huh?” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
You nodded. “It’s peaceful up here.”
“Almost makes you forget we’re in a school for assassins,” he chuckled.
You smiled faintly. “Almost.”
For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the cool breeze brushing past. Then Nagumo turned to face you, his grin a little softer than usual.
“You know,” he said, “when I first saw you at orientation, I thought, ‘Wow, she’s dangerous.’ Not because of your weapons or your stance — though, yeah, you’re pretty good — but because you actually caught my attention.”
You raised a brow. “That’s a strange way to compliment someone.”
He laughed. “I’m a strange guy.”
Then, with a mock-serious look, he added, “Honestly, I think you’ve been falling for me this whole time. Three weeks of ignoring me? Classic denial.”
You scoffed. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t worry, I get it. I’m irresistible,” he teased, leaning closer. But then his tone shifted, the playfulness giving way to sincerity. “But seriously… I like you. More than just some passing crush.”
Silent.
Your breath caught. He wasn’t smirking now. His eyes, usually so full of mischief, held a warmth that left you momentarily speechless.
“Nagumo…” you began, but he held up a hand.
“Let me finish,” he said, his voice unusually steady. “I know I joke a lot. I know I tease, and I don’t always show when I’m serious. But with you… it’s different. You make me want to be serious. You make me want to stay.”
The silence stretched between you, filled only by the wind and the distant hum of the campus below.
Finally, you exhaled, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning again. “But I’m your ridiculous, if you’ll have me.”
And just like that, the butterflies in your stomach spread their wings.
The next day, Rion caught sight of you and Nagumo walking together, his arm draped casually around your shoulders. She let out a dramatic gasp.
“Finally! Took you long enough!” she teased. “So, when’s the wedding?”
Nagumo winked. “Soon as she proposes.”
You smacked his arm lightly, but you were smiling all the same.
“We're still young.”
Sakamoto just shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched from afar.
And though life at JCC was never simple, one thing was certain — with Nagumo by your side, it would never be boring either.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────
Bonus scene first “date” training together
It was supposed to be just another sparring session.
“Don’t go easy on me,” you warned, stretching your arms as you stepped onto the mat.
Nagumo smirked, rolling his shoulders. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. I never go easy—especially not on the girl I like.”
You flushed slightly at his casual words, though you tried to cover it up with a scoff. “You’re impossible.”
“Impossible and charming,” he corrected, winking.
The two of you circled each other, the sound of your feet brushing against the mat. Then, in a blur of movement, you lunged. Nagumo blocked easily, his grin widening as he parried your strike.
“You’ve gotten faster,” he said, ducking under your arm.
“Or maybe you’ve just gotten slower,” you shot back.
He laughed, the sound genuine, full of amusement. “Careful—keep talking like that, and I might just fall harder.”
Your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to let him win that easily. With a burst of energy, you swept his leg. For a split second, Nagumo looked surprised—then he hit the mat with a soft thud.
You leaned over him, a triumphant grin on your face. “Looks like I win.”
Nagumo blinked up at you, then chuckled, utterly unfazed. “If this is what losing feels like, I think I can live with it.”
You rolled your eyes, stepping back to offer him a hand. He took it, his fingers lingering around yours just a little too long as he stood.
The playful smile on his lips softened. “You know… if anyone else had knocked me flat, I’d be annoyed.” His eyes locked on yours, warmth flickering in his gaze. “But with you? Kinda feels perfect.”
You tried to hide your smile, but it was hopeless. Around Nagumo, the butterflies always won.
You ask them to break an apple in half with their bare hands. How does it end?
Phainon makes the mistake of assuming that it's a simple task and tries to force it open — resulting in the apple bouncing off and hitting him square in the nose. Now that the apple has declared a challenge, the Deliverer can't just back down without responding. So, he tries again and the apple explodes from the amount of force he'd used. He's going to figure out what the sorcery behind it is soon though, mark his words.
Mydei breaks it in one go. There isn't much to be bewildered about here though, considering his upbringing. In the wilderness, oftentimes the only utensils you'll have access to are your hands.
Anaxa knew it was a trap, knew brute force isn't the way and that there's a specific technique for this trick but still, he ended up falling for it anyway and that fiasco resulted in an obliterated apple from a hearty shot of his gun. You thought that'd be the end of it, until the scholar returned a week later with a contraption resembling mechanical hands, created specifically for breaking apples apart.
Dr. Ratio gives the apple a long stare. You'd think he was trying to pressure the fruit into breaking in twine by itself with the sheer power of his brilliant mind. After what seemed like a while of mathematical calculations floating around the man, he managed to break the apple exactly as you'd wanted.
Aventurine fails at first, much to his immense displeasure. He has a reputation for being good with his hands, he cannot tolerate this insult. And true to his words, he returns half an hour later, a master of this trick with the help of social media.
Sunday had a hunch he wouldn't succeed but, to appease you, he still tried anyway. When his predication turned out to be true, he calmly fetched a knife, properly prepared the apple and handed the sliced fruit to you on a plate. His knife skills are better anyway.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Hii! Just found your blog, absolutely loved the nagumo fic! I was just wondering if you take request or not?
~🍎
hii!! aww thank you so much anon 🍎!! that means a lot to me <3 !!
as for requests, i’m not taking any at the moment since uni’s got me in a chokehold rn 😭 but i’ll definitely let everyone know when i’m confident (and free) enough to open them!!
In which Nagumo proposes to you… well, while falling off a building and you’re torn between kissing him or dropkicking him on the way down. Or both.
pairing: nagumo yoichi x reader. tags: injuries, but nothing more than that. no use of y/n. fluff. romcom. explosion (building). i tried to make this funny 😢
word count: 1.0k
The world is ending in stereo.
The air vibrates with chaos. Gunfire rattles in the distance. Concrete screams as another beam gives way, tearing through the floor like paper. The building is splitting apart, each piece falling in its own slow-motion tragedy.
Shards of glass float lazily through the air, catching the light from a fire somewhere below. A car outside explodes, spinning like a pirouetting ballerina that’s had enough of gravity. Somewhere amid all of this, a forgotten Bluetooth speaker refuses to die. It blares an overly dramatic opera song that fills the collapsing tower like the universe decided to score this disaster for its own amusement.
You’re running through the corridor, boots slipping over dust and shattered glass. Your lungs burn, every breath a gasp of grit and smoke. You can barely hear yourself think over the chaos. Then, behind you, that familiar voice cuts through the destruction like sunlight slicing through smoke.
“Hey, sweetheart! Left looked safer, right?”
You look back, exasperated. “Left is on fire, Yoichi!”
He grins. “Yeah, but the lighting’s romantic!”
Before you can retort, the entire floor shudders beneath your feet. A violent tremor splits the ground between you and him. Metal beams twist. For a single, horrifying heartbeat, you lock eyes. His grin faltering just enough for you to see the panic beneath it.
Then the floor gives way.
The world slows. Gravity vanishes. Everything becomes weightless chaos. Dust, papers, chunks of ceiling, even the smell of gunpowder seem to hang suspended in midair. You see Nagumo above, his coat snapping like a flag, blood streaking his face, and that damn grin still carved into his lips.
He dives after you.
You barely process it before his hand locks around your wrist, pulling you against him mid-fall. The two of you tumble together through the collapsing air, a mess of limbs, debris, and adrenaline. His laughter rings out over the opera’s rising chorus.
“Damn, we really don’t do boring dates, huh?”
“This isn’t a date!” you shout back, clutching his coat like it might save you.
“Sure feels like one!” he says, utterly unbothered as the entire floor disintegrates beneath.
Sparks shower past like divine confetti. The opera swells – violins screaming, sopranos crying out for mercy and for one surreal heartbeat, the world slows. Dust floats. Fire glows. His eyes meet yours through the blur of motion.
He flashes you a grin that’s a little too sincere. “You know...”
“Now isn't the time!”
“– if we make it out alive…” He adjusts his grip, his voice steady even as you both spin through open air.
“Yoichi, I'm warning you!”
“I’m totally marrying you!”
Your heart stops. “WHAT?!”
He’s laughing, full-bodied, absurd, that kind of laughter that shouldn’t exist when death’s an inch away. The opera hits its peak. The two of you keep falling. You see a flash of light as another explosion rips through the building below, painting his grin in gold and smoke.
You yell, half terrified, half furious, “You’re proposing to me while we’re falling to our deaths?!”
“Timing is everything, sweetheart!” he shouts back, gleeful. “Also, I didn’t buy this ring just for it to collect dust!”
“You brought a ring?!”
“Of course I did!”
Then comes another impact, the building still trembling, fragile to its core. He twists midair, wrapping around you as you both crash through the next floor, through glass, through dust, and through chaos. Papers scatter everywhere, the opera fading into a muffled hum beneath the debris.
You land in a heap of rubble and adrenaline. Your heartbeat drowns out everything else. He groans beneath you, then wheezes out a laugh.
“Still alive,” he says, grinning through the dust. “That’s a good sign.”
You lift your head. He’s bruised, bleeding, ridiculous and absolutely radiant. And your injuries are not different from his.
And then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he reaches into his coat and pulls out a small, soot-stained velvet box.
“Better now than never, yeah?”
You blink. “You really carried that through all this?”
“Didn’t wanna lose it before giving it to you.”
“Yoichi.”
He grins. “C’mon, say yes before the ceiling decides to join us.”
The opera swells again, faint but insistent; Nessun Dorma bleeding softly through the smoke. You can’t help it; laughter bursts out of you. It’s wild, cracked, and full of disbelief. You shake your head, smiling despite the tears threatening your eyes.
“You’re insane.”
“Yeah,” he says softly, brushing dust from your hair, “but you love me.”
You let out a sigh. The world still humming around you. “Yeah... I do.”
He grins. “There you go. See? It's quite easy.”
“Easy for you to say.”
He chuckles again, brushing a thumb against your cheek, smudging away dust. His hand slides to the back of your head, pulling you close until your forehead rests against his chest.
“Guess that means we’re even,” he murmurs.
You roll your eyes, but your smile is soft, unguarded.
Then, because he can’t resist even now, he adds quietly, “If I die before the ceremony, you still owe me a honeymoon.”
You muffled through his coat, “If you die before I do, I’m haunting you. Fair warning.”
He laughs. Loud. Free. The sound fills the ruined room like sunlight breaking through smoke.
And when he finally leans down to kiss the top of your head, the opera hits its final crescendo and Nessun Dorma soaring like the world itself is clapping for the two idiots who fell in love somewhere between chaos and comedy.
The building groans one last time, dust raining around you both, but neither of you move. For the first time all day, the world feels almost still.
He exhales against your hair. “You know, this might actually top our first date.”
You snort softly. “That was a shootout in a flower shop.”
“Exactly. Romantic.”
Somewhere far above, the ceiling cracks, dust rains down, and you both lie there in the ruins – ridiculous, invincible, and in love. The opera fades into silence, leaving only the sound of your laughter, and the faint, impossible hope that somehow, love could survive even this.
he's been living in my head rent-free, so i decided to write something about him. ✌️
hyunjin x reader. friends to lovers with a pinch of unrequited love (it's very much requited dw). this is pure brainrot so suggestive at the end. but also fluffy and soft. also reader wears a two piece swimsuit.
a.n: again, sanest response i could have to this hyune. please enjoy my descent to madness :) also the last scene is heavily inspired by my favorite dialogue in the song of achilles!!
pt. 2- orange
The first time you went on a vacation with Hyunjin’s family, you were only seven years old.
You don't clearly remember the island his parents took you to, the details of the travel elusive to your memory's grasp. But you remember Hyunjin- his hair darkening under the touch of the saline sea, akin to a night sky devoid of its stars. You remember the dimple on his left cheek- the sheer pride in you each time you managed to bring it to light. And you remember thinking that Hyunjin was pretty, for the first time in your small existence.
It's a thought that scorched itself indelibly into your brain, and as the years cascaded by, the branches of your love grew, each leave bearing new adjectives to describe Hyunjin- caring, emotional, talented.
But never yours.
You're both older now, and you see him less since his house is no longer right next to yours, the rhythm of life distancing you both. Hyunjin comes in and out of your life as an ephemeral tide, gently brushing your shores. You cling to the sea shells his oceans sometimes throw at your feet- the rare times when your schedules align, when you can see him beyond the confines of your phone, in pixelated video calls late into the night.
And it seems as if you've caught a rare shell this time- one with an ivory pearl hidden within it. Because you're traveling once again with him.
You're all much different, the passage of time marked you in different, but palpable ways. But your presence with Hyunjin's family still felt just as effortless as it did when you were seven. You never had to second guess what you said or how you acted with them. You were just like running water, flowing naturally within the nooks and crannies of his family.
And at night, under the moon's watchful gaze, your hushed conversations with Hyunjin remained. Beneath a shared blanket knitted by his mom, the warm sand melded with your feet, his dimple appearing once again at every word you uttered. He was still as pretty, perhaps even more so with time's gentle sculpting, molding his features into much sharper ones. It seemed only fitting for a soul as beautiful as his.
"I want to take you somewhere tomorrow," he had whispered excitedly, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, momentarily leaving you breathless- tongue dissolving in your mouth like ivory seafoam.
"You want to kidnap me?" you playfully asked, nudging him.
"You don't want to come with me?" he pouted, his gaze locked into yours, pupils appearing much darker with the absence of the sun, like a boundless ocean. The water was right beside you and yet your only wish was to swim in his eyes.
"I want to," you admitted.
"Anywhere?" he asked, irises trembling slightly as he sought your response. You were both very different, chemicals binding his molecules, and your love for him binding yours. You stood faraway from one another- you in the water and he in the wind, stirring your waves, submerging you in the seas of your longing.
"Anywhere."
...
Faraway land punctures the ocean you're gazing at, crystal blue water filling the small pool Hyunjin took you to. You admit it's a breathtaking view, only your eyes can't depart from Hyunjin's figure.
He jumped into the pool first, while you went to retrieve your camera from your bag. And now you stand by the door, heart caught in your throat, as you watch him swim around. Hyunjin is graceful, in the way he moves his limbs, bending the water to his will. It doesn't look like he's swimming, rather dancing on liquid ground.
Kkami joyfully barks once he sees you, and Hyunjin finally lifts his eyes, locking them with yours. He is pretty, unattainable, a singular star outshining all the celestial light. Foolish of them to even think they could compare.
And he's still not yours.
"I’ll take a picture of you both," you smile softly, willing yourself to conceal the lump growing in your throat. Hyunjin nods, draping his hand over Kkami's body, softly scratching the spot behind his ear. You take the first pic, capturing the tenderness in Hyunjin’s eyes. This one's for you alone.
"Okay, look at the camera," you call out cheerfully, and they both turn to look at you in unison. Though your bodies did not touch, the intensity of Hyunjin's gaze seemed to sear into your skin, igniting a fire within you. Foolish of you to dream of more.
You set the camera aside, before sitting at the edge of the pool, dipping your toes into the cool water. Hyunjin swims towards you, positioning himself between your legs, his warm hand wrapping around your ankle. You want to flee, to go back to to the innocence of seven, to never recognize how pretty Hyunjin is, to avoid the heartbreak of dreaming of someone you'll never have.
"Come swim with me," he pouts, palm pressing against your damp skin. You shake your head, a teasing smile on your face, and he pulls you to him, hands holding your waist promptly to prevent you from sinking under.
You free yourself from his intoxicating hold, before diving into the water, a desperate attempt to get away from him. Because when Hyunjin held your waist, a tenderness so earnest in his eyes it made your heart skip a beat, you dared to imagine a future together. For a fleeting moment you became the ocean and he the sky, merging at the faraway horizon.
Hyunjin dives right after you, and then you both swim around one another, giddy smiles on your faces, your laughter echoing around the room. He tries to drown you, hands gliding across the surface of your skin, making goosebumps ripple in you. You attempt to do the same, but you soon regret it. His skin was smooth, taut muscles flexing under your touch; broad shoulders you wrapped your arms around, trying to push him down. Your hand accidentally brushed against his pulse, and you removed it as if it had burned you. There is life beating within him, wildly. But not for you. Never for you.
"Wait, hold on. Your straps are loosening," he notices, reaching for your arm and spinning you around, your back now facing him. "Can I?" he asks, voice dipping to a lower timber. You feel it in the depths of your stomach, depths only he can unravel.
"Yes," you whisper, as he undoes the loose knot of your swimsuit, the one behind your neck still holding up the fabric against your skin. You can feel his cold breath traveling across your bare back, crystalizing the droplets of water trailing on it. His fingers are a stark warmth as they brush against your spine, fingertips gently grazing your skin, like a delicate feather. You imagine your body is molten wax, and he's the seal stamp pressing onto you, molding you whichever way he'd like.
He's tentative as he grabs the undone straps, wrapping them in a knot. Or at least attempting to. You can tell that he's shaking, a shuddering breath escaping his lips. "Im sorry, I didn't tie it well," he giggles sheepishly, undoing the knot once again. You don't reply, unsure of what words will stumble out of your mouth. 'I don't mind you touching me' instead of 'it's okay'.
You turn around once he's done, but he doesn't move back, his body mere centimeters away from yours. You can see the rise and fall of his chest, the slight blush creeping up his neck, coloring him in the prettiest shade of crimson. The droplets cascading down his body, forging a tantalizing path you wish you could undergo. His dampened hair, a shade darker than his usual color. His lips slightly parted, rosy as they've always been. His adam's apple bobbing up and down furiously.
And you suddenly can no longer breathe.
Beneath the water, his hand encircles your wrist, a touch so faint you almost believe that you've imagined it. His fingers trail down, holding your palm and bringing it to his face. He closes his eyes, letting out a shaky exhale, one you inhale right back in. You're cradling his cheek, his hand right on top of yours, holding it in place.
"Hyunjin..." you start, but he shakes his head, eyes still shut.
"Please," he whispers, "just for a little." and the clouds slightly uncover, a singular sun ray piercing through them- one petal of hope unfurling at his words.
"Don't- don't do this," you plead back, tone tinged with panic. You couldn't have him, not even for a second, not even in a dream. That's the way things are. Two parallel lines, traveling down the same path, forever adjacent, but never merging as one.
Hyunjin plants a soft kiss on your wrist, lips barely brushing against your pulse. You've never truly known gentleness until this moment.
"If I told you that this trip with you is the happiest I’ve been in a while, would you believe me?" he whispers against your skin, head slightly tilted.
You shake your head no.
"If I ask you something would you be honest with me? I'm tired, yn," he says, his voice softening as it always did when he uttered your name. As if the syllables were always coated in honey, even in his sadness, in his anger, and now, in his pleading for you.
"I will," you respond with an equally quiet voice, and yet it resounds loudly around the room, amplified by the consequences looming around the corner.
"Do you want me?" he asks simply, expecting you to easily uncover a secret you've buried for years, to dust the weight of your fear in mere seconds.
You remain silent and Hyunjin deflates a bit, shoulders slumping forward, the dimple in his face vanishing completely.
"Because I'm drowning in my want for you."
A water droplet falls from the strands of his hair, landing softly on his mouth. You follow its descent, as he licks his lips nervously, his hold on your wrist faltering. The wind is gliding across the water- he's offering himself to you. Who are you to ever refuse?
Your lips crash on his before you even realize it, years of longing exploding before your eyes, spilling from your mouth to his in the most vibrant colors. His lips are soft as you've always imagined them, and they move against yours perfectly, as if molded from the same dough, created to meet again and again, in a fervor, and then in a tenderness that makes your heart ache.
You're kissing Hyunjin, and you aren't burning, disintegrating under the weight of longing for someone so unattainable. You aren't Icarus- you flew too close to the sun but it hadn't burned you, instead it embraced you, it's now wrapping its hands around your waist, pressing your chest to its warm one. It's a touch you welcome, one that liquefies in your veins like molten amber.
You wrap your legs around Hyunjin’s waist, as he walks backward until your back is against the pool railing. Your hands are tugging his damp strands, fingers threading through his locks the way sunshine weaves between the leaves. He tastes sweet, sweeter than anything you've ever had in your life. And you're greedy, you can't get enough of him, so you part for a second only to meet again, his hands digging into your sides. Chest to chest, skin to skin, heart to heart.
"Say it," Hyunjin whispers against your lips, "say that you want me back."
"I want you. So much, Hyune. You're the only one I’ve ever wanted," your words wash over him, erasing every doubt that was anchored in his heart. How could you not have seen it, all this time? In each photograph you took, his gaze, always on you. The fondness in his eyes and the dimples in his cheeks, only ever coming forth for you.
You lean away, head dipped down to kiss his shoulders. Your lips trail down his collarbones, moving to the mole on his arm. He smells like chlorine, and the sweet scent of your monoi oil. Hyunjin is pretty, Hyunjin is warm, Hyunjin is yours.
Your eyes meet his and you both let out giddy giggles, the flush of your cheeks matching his. His lips are slightly swollen, and he bites the lower one as he glances at Kkami, who was idly watching you both.
"Do you think we traumatized him?" you ask in a hushed whisper.
"I think he's glad this happened and he no longer has to hear my rants about you," Hyunjin smiles sheepishly and you laugh, the sound reverberating through Hyunjin’s heart.
"Have I ever told you how much I love your laugh?" he asks, thumb swiping across your cheek with a tenderness that leaves you dizzy in its trail.
"You have," you whisper, the sound of it getting caught in your throat.
"And this?" he gently grazes your cupid bow. "Have I told you how much I love your lips?"
"You haven't," you say, mouth parting slightly at his words.
"This then," he trails across your neck, skimming your pulse. "Did I tell you how I feel about your blush? How it always always starts up your neck? Always so pretty?"
"No," you are breathless now, shuddering under his touch.
"What about this?" his hands hold your waist, kneading the tender flesh. "Did I ever tell you? About this?" They go over your hips, gliding across the bare skin. "Surely I did."
You shake your head. Skin burning up where he had touched it. He smiles, tongue poking against his cheek, hands going to your back, tracing over your spine, undoing the knots of your swimsuit. "And this? Did I tell you how much I want you?"
You close your eyes, wind meeting water. "Tell me again."
a/n: was inspired by the iconic proposal scene in Stepmom (1998).
The rain had been falling for hours.
Soft and steady, it drummed against the windowpane, a rhythmic lull that had slowly pulled you into a drowsy state. The night outside was blurred, city lights flickering like tiny embers in the distance, casting a golden glow against the misty air. You were warm beneath the covers, body melting into the familiar scent of Iwaizumi’s shirt that you had stolen for the night.
But even through your haze of sleep, you could feel it, the weight in the air, the quiet presence beside you.
Iwaizumi was sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his thighs, fingers running through his short, rain-dampened hair. He had come back late from work, and you had been too exhausted to wait up for him, but now something about the way he was sitting there, silent and still, made you stir.
“Hajime?” your voice came out soft, still laced with sleep.
He didn’t answer immediately. Just inhaled deeply, as if trying to steady himself, before turning his head slightly toward you.
“Did I wake you?”
You shook your head, pushing yourself up on one elbow to get a better look at him. His face was half-hidden in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, but you could see it — the quiet storm in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. Something was weighing on him.
Without thinking, you reached out, fingers brushing against his back. “Hey,” you murmured, voice now more alert. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just sat there, letting the rain fill the silence between you. Then, with a quiet exhale, he turned slightly, slipping his hand into his pocket.
And when he pulled it out.
You blinked.
A thread.
A simple, unremarkable piece of red thread, loosely coiled between his fingers.
Confused, you looked up at him, but his gaze was fixed on the thread itself, as if it carried the weight of something he wasn’t sure how to say.
“When I was a kid,” he began, voice unusually soft, “my grandma used to tell me this story. About how soulmates are tied together by an invisible red thread.”
You remained silent, watching as he unraveled the thread with careful fingers.
“She said no matter how far apart they were, no matter what happened, they’d always find their way back to each other.” His lips twitched, almost like he was amused at himself. “I used to think that was just a dumb fairytale.”
You let out a small breath of laughter, but something about his tone kept you quiet.
He finally looked up, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light.
“But then I met you.”
Your breath caught.
His fingers found yours, rough and warm, his touch familiar yet oddly reverent as he took your left hand. Slowly, carefully, he looped the thread around your ring finger, tying it into a simple knot.
“I don’t know if fate exists,” he admitted, voice steady, “but what I do know is that every time I’ve had to make a choice in my life, somehow, some way, it always leads me back to you.”
Your chest tightened.
The thread sat snug around your finger, delicate yet firm, its presence barely noticeable and yet, with the way Iwaizumi was looking at you, it felt like the most significant thing in the world.
Then, with one small tug–
Something slid down the thread.
A ring.
Gliding effortlessly, it followed the path of the thread, slipping down until it landed perfectly against the base of your finger.
You didn’t move. Couldn’t.
Your pulse thundered in your ears as you stared at it, the simple, silver band resting against your skin like it had always belonged there.
And when you finally looked up at him, he was already watching you.
“I don’t need fate to tell me that it’s you,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion. “I just know.”
The weight of his words crashed over you all at once, overwhelming in the most breathtaking way. He wasn’t just asking you to marry him.
He wanting to be a part of you, bound by love.
To be the one he’d come home to after long days.
The one he’d turn to, always.
The one he’d choose, over and over again.
His fingers tightened slightly around yours, as if grounding himself. “So?” His lips twitched into a nervous, almost boyish smirk. “Are you gonna leave me hanging, or what?”
A laugh bubbled up from your chest, a breathless, overwhelmed laugh, because gosh, Hajime.
You threw yourself into his arms.
His breath hitched in surprise before his arms wrapped around you instinctively, strong and secure, like he’d been holding you his whole life. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, heart hammering against his.
“Yes,” you whispered against his skin. “Yes, you idiot.”
A chuckle rumbled through his chest, deep and warm, as if your words had been a weight lifted off his shoulders. He pulled back just enough to gently place a soft kiss on your forehead, the kind that carried all the love he couldn’t say aloud. His lips lingered for a moment, as if imprinting his affection onto your skin.
Outside, the rain continued to fall.
But inside, in the warmth of his arms, in the way your fingers fit perfectly within his.
You had never felt more at home.
I hope no one has done this before. If there are, feel free to reach out to me so I can take it down!!^^
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The lake stretched before you, endless and shimmering, a mirror reflecting the sky’s tender blues and whites. The afternoon sun bathed everything in gold, casting gentle shadows of the lotus trees swaying nearby. You were perched on the grassy banks, hands idly skimming the cool surface of the water, while Yingxing lay sprawled beside you, the edges of his robes damp from your earlier antics.
“You’ve been staring at me for five minutes,” he said, not bothering to turn his head. “Careful, or I might start thinking you’re captivated.”
You scoffed. “It’s not my fault you’re too lazy to move. I’m debating whether I should push you into the lake.”
He finally glanced over, his azure eyes narrowing in mock challenge. “You wouldn’t dare.”
And you did.
The splash startled a flock of cranes nearby, their wings flapping as they disappeared into the endless sky. Yingxing surfaced a moment later, hair plastered to his face as he wiped water from his eyes. His glare was fierce but short-lived, melting into a crooked grin. “I’ll make you regret that.”
You were already laughing, taking a step back as he lunged toward you, his wet hands catching your wrist. “Yingxing!” you shrieked as he dragged you into the water with him, your laughter echoing across the lake.
The two of you wrestled in the shallows, your attempts to splash him thwarted by his quick reflexes. Finally, he caught both your wrists, his grip firm but gentle as he stilled your movements.
“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “there’s no one else I’d let throw me into a lake.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, what an honor.”
“I’m serious,” he continued, and for once, there was no teasing in his tone. “You make the world... quieter. Even when you’re loud.”
You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden sincerity. The sunlight danced on his features, and for a moment, you swore the lake envied him.
“You’re terrible at this whole ‘being sweet’ thing,” you said, but the warmth in your voice betrayed you.
“Maybe,” he admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But only for you.”
The two of you collapsed onto the bank after that, soaking wet but breathless with laughter. He leaned over, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “If there’s a way to freeze time, I’d do it now,” he murmured.
“I’d keep us here, just like this.”
Somehow, the weight of his blade was heavier than the memories.
The cool metal kissed your throat, unmoving and absolute. His face, so familiar yet now so distant, betrayed nothing, his crimson eyes dull and lifeless.
You lying down, surrender, your weapon forgotten at your side. There was no point in fighting anymore. You knew it, and somehow, you felt he did too.
“Go on,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. “You’ve already taken everything else. What’s one more life to add to the pile?”
For a moment, his expression flickered barely, like a shadow passing over the moon. Was it hesitation? Recognition? Or just your own desperate hope clawing at the edges of reality?
“Why don’t you finish it, Yingxing?” you whispered, and the name fell from your lips like a prayer.
His grip faltered.
The silence between you was deafening. You stared into his eyes, searching for any trace of the man who once chased you across sunlit fields, who once swore he’d freeze time just to keep you by his side.
It wasn’t there.
Or maybe it was. Just for a moment, fleeting as the last rays of sunlight on a dying day, you thought you saw it — the glint of a memory neither of you could bear to let go of.
“You’ve always been stubborn,” you said, a soft smile curling your lips. “Even now, you can’t decide whether to hate me or miss me.”
His jaw clenched, his hand trembling slightly as the blade pressed closer. You felt the sting, sharp and cold, but you didn’t flinch.
Instead, you closed your eyes, letting the memories wash over you. The laughter, the sunlight, the way he had looked at you as if you were his entire world.
“I’ll remember for both of us,” you murmured, your voice fading as the warmth drained from your body. “I’ll carry it all.”
You opened your eyes one last time, meeting his gaze. The tears there were silent, unacknowledged, but undeniable.
“Yingxing,” you said softly, your smile bittersweet. “You were always the sun. I was just lucky enough to orbit you.”
And as the darkness claimed you, you swore you saw it again — that flicker of a memory, brighter than the blade, softer than the past, lingering in the once azure depths of his eyes.
sleep schedules are all over the place, but i’ll deal with it later.
Whether it be romantic, platonic, familial, or any type of pure and overwhelming feelings-- Happy Valentine's Day to everyone who feels the warmth of love.
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