just finished another re-read of Season + Weather, and this was maybe the most special re-read of all. i'm going through a hard time right now and this fic brought me a lot of comfort <3 it really brought me a lot of comfort, so i'm extra grateful for you and your wonderful writing today <3
omg krissss <3 what a delight to hear from you 😭 life is kicking me in the ass too. i'm so glad that this story brings you some comfort!! i hope that whatever is happening goes well, please take care <3<3
Mayyyy <3 kyaaaaaa just tip toeing a bit. what even goes on around here these days LOLOL hope you're doing well. what are we fixated on?
im seeing more and more hq posts on twitter and im both nervous and scared and excited all in one. worried it wont live up to expectations, worried i wont be as excited as i think i'll be, excited still bc we really all waited so so so so long for this ;-;
warnings : gn reader, established relationship, very suggestive (mdni), KITA HAPPY TRAIL !!
word count : 0.6k
Shinsuke’s grandmother had gifted you a new tea strain–one you hadn’t tried yet. It was floral in nature, with hints of sweetness from the honey you’d added pooling on your tongue.
Despite the warmth from the summer day–afternoon quickly dipping into evening–the hot tea is refreshing, filling your stomach with a pleasant warmth that spreads down to the tips of your fingers where they’re loosely wrapped around the smooth white ceramic of your mug. It’s the one with the small crack on the side, from when your lover had accidentally bumped his hip against the counter in his rush to prepare for the morning, causing the mug to precariously tip over the edge.
You run your thumb over it idly, hardly paying any mind to anything other than the sweetened tea spilling down your throat, the soft summer breeze brushing past your knees as you lounge on the porch chair, and the heat that swells in your chest at the sight of him.
This is your favorite part of the day–a little ritual of sorts. Just as the sun starts to dip down into the sky, casting deep shades of tangerine and streaking through the blue that’d previously resided there, you find yourself sat on the porch chair, swinging back and forth with whatever cup of tea you’d chosen as you watch Shinsuke make his way back home.
A soft, teasing smile half-plays on your lips as you take in the sight of him. He must’ve stripped his shirt at some point, and the sun rests against Shinsuke’s tanned skin in such a way that, if you put your mouth on him, you’re convinced you’d be able to taste it.
He catches your staring as he steps up the stairs–a simple one, two, three–and it takes next to no time for a similar look to make its way onto his face.
“There you are,” Shin says as he steps in front of you–as if he doesn’t find you there every day.
“Mhm,” you simply hum, looking up at him from your spot on the chair. Shinsuke remains standing, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with a rag and simultaneously smearing a streak of dirt down his temple.
Your breath nearly catches in your throat at the sight of him; you abandon your mug of half-empty tea to gently take the rag from his hand, dragging it down his chest. You smooth over the planes of his abdomen, tilting your head in admiration as you go. His slightly lean stature flexes under your touch, and when you bring the rag to the soft of his stomach, just under his navel, it gives way to softness.
In appreciation, Shinsuke brings a large hand to cup the back of your neck. He simply leaves it there, not guiding you anywhere, rubbing a rough thumb against your jawline as you drag the rag against his wet side.
“‘Nd how was your day?” Shinsuke asks, ever polite even in the form of such intimacy.
You shrug, intently focused on the coarse trail of darkened hair that resides on Shinsuke’s navel. The urge to place your lips there fills your bones, and you give in easily.
You feel more than hear Shinsuke’s gasp, the hand you have placed on his pectoral jumping slightly when you place your mouth on him.
You hum. You were right–he tastes like the sun.
“Better now,” you mumble against him, wholly distracted by the way a slight swell begins to make itself known in Shinsuke’s jeans. Your eyes dart to it, but you briefly ignore it in favor of sucking a small kiss just beside his hipbone.
Again, Shinsuke’s breath catches in his throat. This time, the hand on the nape of your neck tightens ever-so-slightly, and you feel how his body instinctively curls a bit over you.
“Funny. Mine, too,” The man breathes out on a small, pleasantly surprised laugh.
The tea is left on the armrest of your chair on the porch.
Gojo has devoted his entire life to protecting you as your dedicated guard. A greater force is conspiring to keep you apart.
wc — 3.7k
tags — royal au, childhood friends, forbidden love, protective Gojo, sneaking around/flouting social etiquette, period drama-esque tension between repressed princess and rakish knight, mutually possessive, title from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Everyone knew Satoru Gojo was supposed to be yours.
You claimed him the day you knighted him. He wore your colors and answered to your demands. The physical evidence of your ownership was all over him, the way someone would mark a well loved pet. Even the neck of his jacket carried your embroidery like a collar. To anyone with eyes, he was your adored guard dog.
When all of your memories blur into one stream of consciousness, the day you knighted him remains clear. You remember everything, including your father stealing him out from under you.
You were the only one who truly thought he was ever going to be yours. It was part of the promise you had sworn to each other as children, playing princess and the guard with wooden swords and flower crowns.
Looking back, you can see the gears of court machinations turning. It was no simple coincidence that the only heir to House Gojo ended up in close proximity to you, any more than any other of your introductions to sons of highborn houses.
when you peer through the peephole of your apartment's door, you don't expect to be transported directly back to the past.
but there he is, looking more familiar to your memories than you would like him to. messier hair, maybe, and a slouch that's a bit unbecoming of him, but it's him. no amount of time could help you forget about him; you could recognize his shadow in a dark room.
rin itoshi is banging on your apartment door. it's almost eleven at night, and you know that he prefers an earlier bedtime than most, but he's not in bed. he's right here. at your doorstep.
and it shouldn't make your stomach do that excited churn that always happens when rin acknowledges you. it's the same excited feeling that you got early on in your relationship with him; you felt it every time you saw his name pop up on your notifications, and every time he took your hand into his on those first few dates. the exhilarating rush of being wanted — but most importantly, being wanted by someone who you want, too.
you're only opening the door so he doesn't end up being mocked on everyone's twitter feeds in the morning. that's the excuse you use, anyway. chances are, no one is ever going to know that professional football star, rin itoshi, ended up at some nondescript apartment complex after a celebratory night out. however, it's easier to say that than to admit that you're always going to jump at the chance to let rin in.
when you open the door to allow your ex(?) (can he even be an ex if the two of you were never truly a couple?) in, you don't expect him to point an accusatory, albeit shaky, finger at you and boldly ask you,
"why are you ghosting me?"
it's too late at night and you're too tired to keep your guard up, so you just gape at him, mouth open, eyebrows raised in an almost cartoon-like, comical shocked way. you have your hair bunched up around your head haphazardly and your designated pajama tee has an ice cream stain on it and you've got your loosest pants on. you might regret not playing it cool when you look back on this interaction in the future, but the fact of the matter is, you lost all opportunity at nonchalance the moment you unlocked your door.
everything else that is embarrassing is just the icing on this trainwreck of a cake.
only rin itoshi, you suppose, is the right combination of bold, drunken idiot, and just socially inept enough to confront the ghoster about behind ghosted. because who in their right mind asks that?
everyone knows that the minute you get ghosted, you have to either move on or pretend to. you hop to the next person who is going to be your fixation for the month and the topic of your groupchat's conversations, and you pretend that you don't hope every notification that appears on your screen is him texting you (and you also must pretend that the sick waves of disappointment when it turns out it isn't him aren't absolutely soul-crushing). you don't make a big deal out of deleting his contact (even though you have never saved any other situationship's number in your phone before), and you're just so fucking unbothered that you even went out of your way to blacklist any articles or tweets that contain his name, his team, or even his jersey number.
"nobody asks that question." you tell him, instead of answering him. "nobody with some self-respect and social awareness, at least."
it's a jab at him, but rin doesn't seem to care. that's the thing about rin — he's really good at that. either not caring or pretending not to care, you're not so certain. you just know that the impassive expression on his face hurts all the same.
"i'm drunk." he says, and before you can give him a yeah, i can tell, he's continuing. "and i miss you."
"maybe you miss me because you're drunk. if you wake up tomorrow feeling the same way, maybe we can talk."
you're trying to put your foot down and maintain a strong image, but you know yourself too well to be fooled by your own lies. there's no maybe about it. he could wake up and hate your guts tomorrow, and you'd still want him to tell you it because it at least means he's speaking to you.
"i wake up missing you all the time. does that count?"
your mom told you once that men are like food — anything that looks that good cannot be good for your health. and looking at rin, all lean limbs and long lashes; high cheekbones and that pretty boy pout, is absolutely detrimental to your wellbeing. you should kick him out and slam the door and put a chair underneath the locked doorknob for good measure, but your heart sings with that drunken confession of his, and you know you're a goner.
"don't joke around like that." but there's no conviction in your voice, just a sort of desperate longing that changes the meaning of your words to please don't say those sort of things if you don't mean it.
"is that why you're ignoring me? because you think i was joking about everything?"
"i didn't— i wasn't— ugh. you ghosted me first!" admitting it out loud somehow brings back all the hurt from when it actually happened. maybe that's why you had enough sense to never admit it, but rin itoshi does something to you. he makes your brain shut down. all sense of self-preservation evaporates when he's in your vicinity.
confusion flickers across his face. his stupidly cute face with his stupid blue eyes and his stupid strands of hair that hang in his face no matter how many times he aggressively pushes it back. your heart breaks with every second of silence that passes by, and then hope that it can be pieced back together again appears when he looks at you, all sincere seriousness and more soberingly alert than he's looked all night, as he asks,
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