do you think i have forgotten?

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── asks are open

[qyoriyuu]

— qyo 𖦹⋆ ݁˖.ᐟ

of age, she/her, infp 9w1, asian.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤanimanga + multifandom <𝟑 .ᐟ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀⠀⠀⠀ very open to mutuals :)

⠀⠀⠀⠀ㅤㅤㅤmasterlist  ⋆˚࿔        ao3  ⊹  ࣪  ˖        rules/dni  .ᐟ.ᐟ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⤷ ゛(creds) dividers by cursed-carmine + andromeda-graphics ˎˊ˗

ㅤㅤㅤ© qyoriyuu on tumblr; please don’t repost, plagiarize, or translate my work!

[nagumoan]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐨 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤!

I've been wanting to do something fun to celebrate the birthday of the silliest and coolest liar assassin out there, so I figured we could do a little prompt week together, to count down to it!

Beginning from the 3rd of July, you can participate by posting anything related to the prompts offered to you in the attached prompt list (fanfic, poems, art, collages, edits, ...). Please, make sure you add the hashtag #ngmweek26 to your posts, so that I can accurately track and reblog them. Feel free to tag me as well, if you want to!

I've divided the prompts for each day into three categories: One Word, Alternate Universes, and Scenarios. You may go wild with your interpretations. You can either select one prompt for each day or combine two from the same day within one work. That is up to you.

NSFW works are allowed and so are darker topics (even if most of these prompts are rather positive). Make sure you tag your works accordingly, please!

The final day - his birthday on the 9th of July - is a free day. Which means, you are free to post whatever you want!

Thank you for joining me in my attempt to make his birthday as special as possible! I will create a masterlist of all works in the end, so that we can have a little collection of love letters to Nagumo🖤

[qyoriyuu]

— dispositions ᝰ.ᐟ๋࣭

nagumo x gn!reader. ₊ ⊹

(content/warnings): MANGA SPOILERS, brief mention of blood/injuries, pure angst, no comfort, denial of feelings, barely any mention of reader tbh LMFAO, sakamoto + rion mentioned, no beta, god someone save him pls…

(wc) 1.26k!⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

(synopsis): some things are better off forgotten and buried, deep where it doesn’t eat at him anymore… at least, that’s what nagumo thinks. 

(an): fuck i miss him…

……so ill make him experience the most gutwrenching sadness ever….

anywho, the new skmt days chapter has gnawing at my fingers, and it inspired this LOL,

god shishiosa i love you sm…may you all find happiness soon ;,)

Last stop: Minato Ward.

The final train of the night halted with a screech, its door sliding open with an exhale.

And no one but Nagumo stepped off.

Not that anyone was there to follow him anyway. It was already half-past midnight.

The doors slid shut behind him, pushing a soft gust of wind that rubbed his dark trench coat against his button-up, the damp fabric pressing even tighter against his skin.

The wetness of it was warm, uncomfortably warm.

Spilled blood from his mission earlier hadn’t fully dried yet, and it clung to his skin unpleasantly with every step he took, refusing to let him forget about the job from earlier.

Lacerations were engraved on his skin too, the sensation of it left a dull sting throughout him, some were shallow, some not— he couldn’t tell the difference through.

The feeling of all of it barely registered anymore.

He adjusted his coat slightly, letting it fall back into place, and fastened the buttons, ensuring nothing would peek out. He felt the dark fabric swallow the stain whole, and it seeped across his chest and back.

Good thing for this, I guess.

The blood blended into the fabric's dark threads, soaking up the pools and making them barely visible at a glance. Nagumo rolled his shoulders back as he attempted to soothe all tensions loose, but it didn’t really work.

Maybe he was just tired.

Work was getting repetitive after all.

He took the stairs to exit the station, feeling the cool air wrap around him slowly, a stark contrast to the sticky warmth enveloping his upper body, raising goosebumps along his skin.

Gradually, his head rose past the final step of the staircase, and almost absentmindedly, his gaze fell onto a nearby FamilyMart— Jeez, it was bright.

It sat right across the opposite corner from his penthouse. 

Home.

That’s all he wanted.

—but his eyes lingered a second longer than they should have…

He tsked softly under his breath, not quite realizing he’d started walking again.

…Ring~!

The chime of a melody rang as he stepped inside.

“Welcome!” a kind voice greeted him.

Nagumo briefly looked at the worker over the counter, his gaze silently studying her for a moment, and, instinctively, he gave a faint smile, humming in greeting, but his smile didn't reach his eyes at all.

He looked away, slipping his hand into his pockets as he wandered further in, skimming over the items without really looking at them.

Snacks. Drinks. Alcohol. 

Hm, should I really… on second thought…

Nevermind.

What the hell was he thinking? He’s horrible at holding in alcohol.

Why did he even go in here to begin with?

He scoffed at himself, feeling his eyes beginning to wander again, and eventually, he unknowingly made a lap around the entire store, finding his sights falling back over to the counter.

…Cigarettes, huh?

He paused for a bit…

…

—Agh. Fuck it.

“Those, please,” he said casually. The cashier smiled again as she rang it up for him, but after that, he could barely register the exchange that followed.

And before he processed anything, the chime sounded again behind him.

He blinked hard, his eyes finally focusing on the street in front of him, and cold air wrapped around him again, knocking him out of his trance. Work really was starting to take a toll on him, more than he’d probably ever admit.

Suddenly, his body tightened again, the tension from earlier settling back into his shoulders. But in his hand, something resisted back.

His eyes dropped down and reluctantly landed on a small box in his palm, near it, a lighter tucked beneath it.

Nagumo felt his brows knit ever so slightly.

…Why did he even buy this? 

He hates cigarettes, he always did.

If either of them saw him like this….

The thought of it tried to stop. Cut everything off before he could think of it any further, but it slipped through, despite his attempts to suppress it.

Nagumo squeezed his eyes shut.

“Ha! Since when did your ass start smoking?” 

Pfft, she’d be in complete hysterics.

A quiet breath left his mouth, “Ha, wouldn’t you wanna know?” he muttered.

Another voice hummed in response, “Mm…Not really.” 

His voice came easily, too.

“Besides, I can’t when Hana’s around.”

Hana, hm… that idiot. He really left it all behind and started a family, huh?

Nagumo let out another short breath.

…and for a moment, he thought of yo— Flick, Flick.

He needs to stop thinking of that.

Nagumo drew in the smoke of the cigarette, letting it fill his lungs. He exhaled slowly, smoke curling into the air as he shoved the rest of it down, burying it somewhere where it couldn’t reach his mind again. 

He should really get home, it's been a long day after all. 

Putting one foot after the other, he stepped forward, crossing the street without much thought, taking another long drag. 

It tasted bitter, completely unpleasant if you asked him. The rush that filled his head didn’t even make the taste worth it. He never understood why anyone got hooked on these things.

His gaze lowered slightly.

…You’d hate this.

You never liked it when Rion would smoke, same with Sakamoto. You definitely would’ve hated it on him, too.

His grip tightened slightly at the thought.

And as much as he didn’t want to think about it… a lot of things plagued his mind more than he wanted them to.

A version where all of you stayed exactly where you were back at JCC.

Where no one moved on, no one disappeared.

…Maybe he’s been holding onto those memories longer than he’s known you.

Longer than he had the right to.

But that wasn’t it. Not really. Not that he cared. 

Not that he cared at all.

It’s hilarious, isn’t it? 

How a couple of years at school have him acting like this.

—Ah.

He glanced down, and the ember of the cigarette hung dangerously close to his fingers. The paper was practically gone, and the ash hung on by a thread before it trinkled off down to the floor.

Perhaps he was too lost in thought, right now.

He scoffed at himself, flicking the bud away and crushing it beneath his shoe. He watched the ember slowly die down, its faint glow shining against his eyes before it faded, leaving his eyes dark once more.

Nagumo exhaled quietly and looked up. 

Ah, I’m home already.

The entrance of his penthouse loomed before him, and his reflection illuminated faintly against the glass door under the streetlight.

…What a joke.

His gaze lingered on himself for a moment, only to find his sight drifting past his own reflection, landing on a trash can behind the glass. Then, without much thought, he opened the door, letting the quiet hum of the lobby spill out to meet him.

He let the box slip past his fingers, preventing his mind from thinking about it again. The lighter soon followed, and the clatter of it echoed against his ear as the crunch of the plastic crumbled from the impact.

What a waste, he mused. But he let go of the thought just as quickly.

Nagumo pressed the button for the elevator, and the ding of it answered back immediately, as he watched the doors slide open in response. He stepped inside without hesitation, leaving the rest of his thoughts behind as the doors closed. 

He needs to stop being nostalgic over such trivial things.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

© qyoriyuu on tumblr; please don’t repost, plagiarize, or translate my work!

[qyoriyuu]

— drunken confessions 𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

enjin x fem!reader. ₊ ⊹

(content/warnings): slow burn, alcohol, subtle drunken confession, just pure fluff tbh LMFAO, enjin is insanely whipped icl, no beta….⋆˚࿔

(wc) 2.11k!⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

(synopsis): enjin didn’t plan to knock on your door like this at 3am— too bad he just can’t stop thinking of you. 

(an): yay warm up for the gutwrenching angst i want to start writing lol (nagumo i'm coming for you)

Knock, Knock!

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!!

It’s 3 am.

What could possibly be banging at your door at this hour? Especially this damn aggressively.

Gradually, you opened your eyes and stared at your ceiling, bracing for god knows what, letting out a low sigh. You felt yourself sink back into your bed for a moment, lids slowly shutting once more, and the ruckus bouncing off into dead silence, perhaps you’ve been saved, and whoever was knocking has thankfully given up.

…KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

Oh, my god. It’s been like 3 seconds. A soft groan left your mouth, and begrudgingly, you forced yourself out of your bed.

KNOCK, KNOCK—

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you grumbled. Your hands rose to your lids, rubbing circles into your eyes as a desperate attempt to gain consciousness. 

One foot placed after the other, your feet dragged along the floor, slowly shuffling your way towards the repeated noise. Finally, grabbing the knob, you swung open the door.

“What the hell are you knocking at my door fo–” and suddenly, a cloud of smoke blew into your face, lodging in your airway.

You choked mid-sentence. 

“M’ buzzed,” a voice slurred out.

The sudden puff hitched in your throat, followed by a shallow cough that left you breathless, tobacco lingered on your tongue— bitter and earthy with a note of something sharp behind it. You waved your hand, and ribbons of the smoke dragged along your fingers as you cleared the air. 

Your vision was still foggy, but you already knew who was behind this.

Air finally filled back into your lungs, “Enjin, are you kidding me?”

“M’ buzzed,” he repeated, as if that would make you feel better.

You felt a seed of annoyance planted inside you. This guy is unbelievable, you groaned internally, pushing down all impulsive thoughts and actions. The muscle of your hand twitched, but you refrained from slamming the door.

Sigh. Okay, he’s out of it, you rationalized. 

Great, just great…

As it cleared, your eyes finally focused on him. Enjin leaned lazily against your doorframe, his cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, the ember glowing faintly in the dim hallway.

And barely, just barely, it illuminated the warm flush across his face— the light tracing the loose hair on his forehead and dark lounge clothes hanging comfortably on his frame.

Through his double vision, he watched you pinch the bridge of your nose, and slowly, he closed his eyes hard, hoping his vision would focus.

His eyes concentrated on you again, studying you more attentively. 

“...Y’look mad,” he murmured.

You took a deep breath, “Listen, I’m not mad—” he tilted his head towards you skeptically, you paused to sigh, “Enjin. It’s 3 am, what do you think?”

“I dunno,” he slurred, gaze dropping to the floor.

“You don't know?” you repeated back sternly, feeling the muscle of your hand twitch again.

Enjin let out a long sigh, dragging his gaze back up to meet yours, “M’kinda buzzed so… everything’s kinda…”

“Kinda…?” Your eyes narrowed, waiting for him to finish.

Enjin wobbled towards you, the weight of his body slowly leaning towards you, and instinctively, you reached out, catching him by the shoulder, preventing him from toppling over you. 

“Ah, Jin—” holding him up, his head rested against the top of your head for a moment, his hair falling into his eyes, you felt the warmth of his breath mumble into your hair, “Fuck…sorry…”

You huffed, steadying him with both hands, and contemplated your next move.

If you leave him here now, only God knows what this idiot would pull next. But an idiot like him deserves to face whatever consequences follow. Still, you hesitated, weighing your options before letting out a reluctant sigh, making your choice. 

“Kay’ y’idiot, get inside before you break your skull,” you muttered.

Gently, you guided him inside your room, holding him firmly, maneuvering his arm onto your shoulder. He leaned heavily against you, unsteady, and you directed him towards your bed.

“Sit,” you ordered, guiding him carefully onto your mattress as it creaked.

He let out a low groan as he slumped down, his head falling to the side, and he slouched over, somehow still sitting up straight. You stood up, hands resting on your hips as you pondered what to do now.

And just faintly, you noticed the light of the hallway illuminating your figure from behind.

Shit, the door.

You glanced back over your shoulder, back onto Enjin, back onto the door, and slowly you stepped away from the bed, walking towards the entrance.

“Don’t move,” you whispered. Picking up your steps as you reached for the door handle, nudging it shut with a faint click. When you turned back around, Enjin was still hunched over, staring at the floor.

And in the dark, you noticed the glow of his cigarette as it burned softly between his lips.

“Let’s get rid of this.”

You sat down next to him, the weight of your body shifting the mattress slightly.

The sudden tilt pushed him sideways with a quiet grunt. His shoulder knocked into yours as his weight slumped against you. Wow, he’s out of it, you mused, watching him make no effort to adjust himself.

You lifted your hand, pinching the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Hey,” you tugged lightly, “gimme this, will ya?”

His lips tightened, gripping the cigarette, refusing to let go.

“Enjin.” tugging again, somewhat firmer this time, “Let go.”

“Nah,” he mumbled around it.

“Nah?” 

“Nah,” he repeated. 

“Enjin,” you warned, feeling your patience slowly drain. Maybe leaving him stranded in the hall was the better option. “You’re drunk. You’re not going to smoke in my room while drunk.”

He blinked at you slowly, as though what you were saying was going in one ear and out the other.

“Nah.”

You muttered under your breath, “God, you’re unbelievable.”

Giving up on him, your head dropped to your hands, letting out a defeated groan.

You should’ve just left him outside.

Your hands dragged down your face as you grumbled into your palms.

Beside you, Enjin watched you through his blurry vision, his head tipping slightly as he tried to focus on what was in front of him. Despite being drunk, he could always tell when you were irritated: the creases between your brow, your exasperated sighs, and that piercing glare of yours.

—Ah.

Ah fuck. He’s annoying you right now, isn’t he?

Internally, he felt a small bundle of guilt tug somewhere in that foggy brain of his.

“...Hey,” he murmured softly.

You didn’t look at him. “What.”

He tried to reposition himself, but his body swayed instead at the attempt. The cigarette bobbed faintly as he tried to concentrate on the side of your head.

You looked tired.

He squinted even harder, trying to put together the haze spinning in his mind.

Hm.

Oh yeah, he was with Gris and Bro.

Talking about women…

Women, huh…?

…Gris had been going about women in Canvas Town for a while, like what— an hour? He doesn’t really remember. It was lively at the headquarters bar with all the laughing and complaining after a long day’s work, but Enjin’s head was oddly quiet.

“You just gotta be confident, Enjin, don’t you always say that?” Gris said.

Bro nodded his head in agreement.

The ice in Enjin’s old-fashioned cracked, “Listen, it’s different than that,” he countered, trying to find the words to finish his sentence, but instead, he downed the remaining remnants in the glass.

Gris and Bro could only stare at him uneasily as he consumed his sixth cup of alcohol of the night.

Enjin was at a loss. He normally wasn’t like this when he thought about women, but recently, every time he did think of women, he thought about—

His gaze drifted back onto you.

Still rubbing your face with both hands in defeat from sheer exhaustion.  

And now he made you drag his ass into your room unannounced… In the middle of the night…Waking you up in the middle of your sleep…

Damn it, he cursed.

I fucked up.

Enjin felt the bundle of guilt swell twice in size at the thought.

He blinked hard again, trying to muster enough courage to focus on you once more, and without thinking, he reached out his hand to comfort you.

But suddenly, he stopped himself, letting it hover for a second unsteadily.

What the hell am I doing?

Subtly, Enjin felt his cheeks heat up, pulling his hand back to himself, letting it fall limply against his lap as he tried to regain his composure.

He swallowed down the awkward knot in his chest, and through the alcohol, he softly muttered to you, “M’ sorry.”

The gentleness of his words caught you off guard for a moment, and finally, you turned back to face him, “Then give me the cigarette, Enjin.”

His hand promptly reached for the stick, but he missed it entirely, accidentally poking the side of his cheek instead.

Your hand reached out towards him, motioning him to try again. “C’mon,” you said gently.

Enjin attempted to grab it one more time, successfully holding it, but before you could grab it, he suddenly leaned forward, taking the cigarette out with his two fingers, trying to aim it between yours.

“Enj–”

And, in one clumsy motion, he pushed it between your lips instead.

Neither of you moved for a split-second.

His eyes widened.

Ah, fuck. That was basically an indirect kiss.

Enjin felt a rush of heat climb up his neck.

The realization hit him like a brick. His face flushed a deep red— deeper than the alcohol in his system. But before he spiraled any further internally, you huffed in annoyance, pulling the cigarette out of your mouth as he came back to reality.

“Seriously, Enjin?”

You leaned over him and reached to crush the bud into the ashtray on your nightstand across from you, letting it hiss with a low pssstt, your body pushing up against his, “What’s gotten into you tonight?” his inked hands hovering over your body. 

Sitting back down on the bed, you prepared for more of his antics, but unexpectedly, he leaned towards you and buried his face in the corner of your neck.

“Ah—!” you startled, your shoulders tensing at the sudden contact. 

You’re killing him, and you don't even realize it.

His voice came muffled as he talked against your hair, “M’ really sorry,” his voice said quietly, as your posture dropped slightly. 

“...You said that already, Jin.” Your hand dropped to his back, resting on his spine. Your hand rose up and down as you felt him take deep, shallow breaths.

“I know,” he whispered.

His hands gently held your waist, his fingers curling against the fabric of your shirt. “I didn’t mean to wake you up… or have you deal with my shit…”

You stayed silent for a moment, letting out a soft exhale, “I don’t really mind.” You responded, tilting your head over his.

Enjin moved his head slightly, just enough to tilt his head up to look at you. Your head rose to look back at him as he studied you, his eyes dilated slightly from the alcohol— but still attentive.

Your messy hair. Your tired eyes. Your oversized shirt and small shorts.

He smiled softly at you, as a small laugh left his mouth.

You blinked, “What, Jin?”

“...You look pretty tonight,” he mumbled.

Before you could question it further, you watched his face retreat into the crook of your neck once more, revealing how much his ears were burning.

“Jin…What are you even saying…”

“...I’ll explain it one day.”

You pouted at his excuse, “Explain what, you idiot?”

His arms tightened a bit around you, “Why I’m like this…”

“Jin, you’re drunk, it’s fine––”

Enjin cut you off, “It’s different.”

He buried himself deeper, “I just…” he muttered, “I just want to tell you properly.” 

You felt the skin of his face and ears burn against your neck. 

Your expression softened at this side of him. Raising your other hand to hold him properly, you tightened your arms around him, gently laying your head on top of his, “...You’re being weird tonight, y’know that?”

Enjin huffed out an airy laugh against your neck.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I know.”

And for a moment, neither of you moved. Your earlier annoyance had long since faded into the back of your mind. 

Your hand rested against the back of his head, tracing circles onto his scar, as you pulled him a little closer than before. “Stop apologizing now, will you?”

“Mhm...” he hummed.

“Just sleep it off, you idiot.”

A sleepy chuckle rumbled softly against your collarbone.

“Ha. Yeah, I will.” 

© qyoriyuu on tumblr; please don’t repost, plagiarize, or translate my work!

[qyoriyuu]

— late night smoke ⋆｡°·☁︎

enjin x fem!reader. ₊ ⊹

(content/warnings): mutual pinning, slow burn, reader is a smoker, yearning enjin, fluff, banter, semiu is lowk a wingman LMAO, no beta we ball ⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

(wc) 1.91k!⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

(synopsis): unexpected smoking session with him <𝟑 .ᐟ

(an): wahhh school has me so busy when all i want to do is write TT ...anyways, he's so pathetically cute in this i can't :,)

Writing up a report could wait— at least for now. 

This week’s mission has already swallowed up most of your time, and it has been days since you last set foot in headquarters. With the travel, trashbeasts, and everything else, you truly couldn’t have been bothered to, especially running on little to no sleep. 

Surely Semiu and Arkha wouldn’t mind a couple-hour delay— Semiu especially would understand. Despite the migraine pounding in your head, the least you could do is put your mind at ease with a small fix.

Leaving your room, you sealed your door shut with a gentle click behind you. It was late, and headquarters was eerily quiet during these hours; after all, it’s practically the middle of the night. However, it's usually more lively anyway, with laughs and chatter bouncing off the hall— maybe even some occasional screaming, but no voices were there to echo through the walls tonight.

Perhaps everyone was off on a mission, you mused.

Turning the corner, you made your way towards the main lobby. It’s dim, but a subtle yellow glare faintly traced a familiar figure. Your footsteps halted for a moment, the silhouette pausing abruptly at the sound.

“Semiu, you still up?” you asked lightly.

Semiu turned her head towards you. “Oh! You’re up late,” she said with a faint smile, grabbing a stray magazine on the side of her receptionist table, adding it to the stack she held in her other hand, “I’m just wrapping things up for tonight, you heading out?”

“Mm.” you hummed. “Just for a smoke.”

She tsked softly. “Agh. I’d join you, but I’m drowning in paperwork.” A brief sigh escaped her mouth before her eyes lit up. “Oh, y’know. The outside entrance is real quiet tonight. It’d be a good place for a sesh like that, since everyone’s out right now.”

Curiously, you asked, “Everyone’s out on a mission?” 

“Mhm, and guess who had to organize all of that.”

A breathy laugh escaped your mouth, so your suspicions were correct.

“Y’poor thing.” Rubbing the back of your neck with your hand, guilt faintly clouded your consciousness. “Ah– about that,” you broke eye contact, “I still gotta give you my report y’kno–”

She gently raised her hand, “Don’t worry bout it, I’m tired enough.” She sheepishly chuckled, “Pass it to me tomorrow instead, ‘kay?” 

You silently nodded your head at the request, feeling slightly relieved. “I’ll have a smoke outside then. Thanks, Semiu.” Focusing your sights on the entrance door.

Semiu added, “Not everyone’s gone, though, you still got some company,” she teasingly grinned.

“Oh? Who’s sti—”

Bringing her hand up again, this time to adjust her glasses, she added, “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” and began walking away from you, “Enjoy your fix.” 

Your eyebrows creased. She’s obviously hiding something.

You nodded again, letting it slide. “Yeah. Night, Semiu.”

“Nightt,~” she smiled softly, with a hint of something malice-like beneath it. The clacking of her heels soon faded down the opposite corridor.

You lingered for a moment longer after the sound disappeared, staring at the empty stretch of hallway she turned into. You exhaled through your nose and promptly headed for the exit, her words still lingering in your head.

Pushing on the large door, you nudged the lobby entrance open. 

Cold air wrapped you instantly like a blanket, but it was far from being crisp. The wind picked up slightly; it was chilly, and goosebumps rose instantly on your skin. The other half of your body was still inside, still feeling the warmth of the lobby.

Maybe I should head back insid—

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” a familiar voice husked just behind the door.

This is definitely what Semiu meant earlier.

You poked your head over the frame, eyes narrowing as they adjusted to the dim glow of the streetlamps across the pavement.

Enjin stood a few steps down the entrance, shaking what seemed to be an empty pack of cigarettes upside down, as if sheer persistence might summon one last stick. Only a few sad flakes drifted out instead, getting caught in the wind before disappearing into the dark.

He stared at the empty pack like it had betrayed him personally.

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the sight. Enjin’s head snapped up at the sound, his blonde hair barely covering his gaze. It’s rare for him to wear his hair down like this.

“Don’t even…” he warned flatly, still holding up the pack, giving it one last desperate shake.

Stepping outside fully, you let the heavy door fall shut behind you.

Thump.

“Rough night?” you called, gently holding up your own pack. His sights dropped to what was in your hand.

“You’re messing with me,” he said.

“And why would I do that?” Easing yourself right next to him, pulling a stick loose effortlessly, letting it rest between your fingers.

He lifted his brows at you for a second before letting out a gentle chuckle, “You enjoy my suffering, don’t you?” He tilted his head, letting the corners of his lips tug.

“Mm. Nah.” You place your cigarette in your mouth, letting it hang.

Enjin clicked his tongue. “You’re cruel, y’know that?”

“And you’re being dramatic.”

Putting away the pack in your pocket, you rummaged for your lighter. He leaned in close, watching you enviously, his shoulder making contact with yours as the wind blew. Your skin felt drastically cold against his, but he didn't pull away.

Flick. The spark died instantly.

He sneered, “How tragic.”

“Shut it.”

Flick. It died again.

Flick. 

You tightened your grip, sighing

Well, this is embarrassing, you mused. 

Enjin let out a low whistle. “Y’know…” he drawled, “I’d help ya out but,” pulling out a lighter from his sweats, flicking it open with a snap, the flame burning brightly, “someone wants to be cruel to me.”

“Ha, cute. Well, aren’t you helpful?” you deadpanned.

He smirked, holding the flame towards your cigarette.

You accepted it, as it lit with a faint ssst, the ember of it glowing warmly in the dark. You drew in a slow, deep breath, letting it fill your lungs, the rush washing through you as it eased away the day’s tension

When you opened your eyes, Enjin’s glare lingered over you a little longer than necessary. His hand still hovered close to your face, the lighter still angled carefully as the small flame illuminated your face. 

He cleared his throat, his gaze wandered away from yours, letting the flame die out. “Well…?” he hummed.

Smoke curled from your lips as you glared at him attentively.

“Don’t you owe me, sweetheart?” he teased, a smug look gleamed on his eyes

Letting out an amused scoff, you shook your head slightly. “Careful, or else I’ll charge you extra, idiot.” You pulled out the pack again and took one out.

“How sweet of you,” he said. He took the cigarette, his fingers brushing against yours slightly as he brought it to his lips. Your hands felt cold, he mused, lighting the stick with a swift flick of the lighter. 

A comfortable silence settled between you two, interrupted only by the faint crackles of each other’s cigarettes. Enjin tilted his head, “Did Semiu send you out here on purpose?”

You exhaled a ribbon of smoke, “She said I had company.” The wind carried what you just let out, the fog disappearing into the air.

He smirked, knowing damn well what she was doing. “Pft. Figures.” 

“Mm. Figures what?” you questioned.

“That’d she’d send you out here, she saw me coming out anyway.” He took a long drag, letting smoke bleed out of his nose, “Besides, don’t you usually smoke at the courtyard anyway?”

You stopped mid-exhale and blinked. “Jin…How’d y’know I usually smoke at the–”

Enjin coughed abruptly, the smoke hitching in his throat. Your hand quickly rushed to his back, rubbing light circles, hoping to soothe him. He waved you off with a sheepish laugh, but the faint blush creeping on his neck betrayed him. 

“I’m good,” he huffed between some shallow breaths. His eyes met yours, but he broke eye contact immediately, bringing his free hand to his neck to rub it.

Your expression tensed questioningly, “For someone who smokes constantly, that's unusual for you to cough.”

He let out a quiet scoff, still rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, voice rough. “Guess I’m just out of practice.”

“Pft, you? Since when?”

“Since five seconds ago,” he countered, finally looking at you again. He had a faint glint in his eyes— it looked defensive, but he still had a playful expression on his face. “Do ya interrogate everyone like this, or are you just really interested in me?”

Opening your mouth to retort, the wind suddenly picked up between you two, chills running down your skin, your goosebumps becoming more prominent than before. Instinctively, you stubbornly took another drag instead, hoping to find some warmth.

The cold bit you harder, gnawing at your fingertips.

Enjin’s face softened. “You’re shaking,” he said suddenly.

“I’m fine,” you shot back immediately, taking another hit to mask the lie. But it did little to warm you up. 

He stepped closer to you, brushing his shoulder against yours again, more deliberately this time. Your skin was freezing against his. Internally, he tsked at himself, I should’ve known sooner, he huffed.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, flicking the remaining bud onto the pavement, putting it out with his shoe promptly. 

Instead of standing beside you, he repositioned himself slightly in front of you. Taking your hand and intertwining it with his, he pulled you in closer, taking one more step closer to you. He was close, but not enough to cage you in, just enough to feel his warmth slightly.

Another gust of wind brushed towards you two, but it hit his back first, the cold dulling instantly. Unknowingly, you subtly shifted yourself closer to him.

He didn’t comment on that. 

You felt the chill ease from your skin, but it wasn’t just the cold fading. Heat crept up to your neck, settling unmistakably onto your cheeks. 

“Hey…” his voice dropped.

You looked up at him.

“Let’s head inside, ‘kay?” his expression looked at you gently. 

For a second, you thought about what to say back, but the wind howled once more.

“...You’re gonna get sick,” he added quietly with no witty remarks to banter back at you.

“Really, Jin, I’m okay.”

He smiled faintly, “Shh,” he cooed, “Let me worry for a second,” guiding you towards the door. “Finish that inside, alright?”

His hand firmly grasped the knob, pulling it open for you, his fingers brushing your back to direct you towards the lobby. “You first,” he said, voice low.

You raised a brow at him. “Since when did you care?”

He looked at you again, but his glare was different— it was quiet, with no teasing intent behind it.

“Since you decided to freeze to death next to me,” he mumbled, nudging you gently towards the entrance. “Now hurry up, courtyard girl.”

Your expression fell flat at the nickname. “You still gotta tell me how you know that.”

He winced slightly at the slip-up again, his eyes darting away for a second. “Not a chance, princess,” his voice faltered slightly, betraying the ease he tried to keep.

You stepped inside, letting the warmth of the room swallow you. Enjin followed you in, closing the door behind him with a small thump.

© qyoriyuu on tumblr; please don’t repost, plagiarize, or translate my work!

[qyoriyuu]

— tattooed heart <𝟑 .ᐟ

yoichi nagumo x fem!reader. ₊ ⊹

(content/warnings): MANGA SPOILERS, sfw, switching povs, slow SLOW burn, soft angst, cold/reserved reader, reader is also an assassin + medical-savvy lol, brief mention of wounds, fluff (if you squint hard enough), mutual pinning (again, if you squint), MAX yearning nagumo, no beta we ball.. 

(wc) 2.09k! ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

(synopsis): since your jcc days, it’s been years since you’ve seen him. however, after unexpectedly reconciling with one another, you’re forced to tend to his wounds. gradually, old memories and buried feelings slowly begin to surface. even after all this time, perhaps nothing has really changed, despite it all… ᥫ᭡

(context): takes place after the assassin exhibition arc, you take care of him after he’s treated by granny miya!

(an): this is my first post yay!! anyways, i hope you all enjoy, i will forever adore yearning men ᰔ.ᐟ 

“YOU mess this up. You’re dead, Nagumo.” The piercing buzz of the tattoo gun rang through the dorm room, echoing restlessly off the walls.

A cunning grin she knew too well crept onto his face, abruptly stopping the gun’s vibrations. He chuckled, “I haven’t even put it on your skin yet, I’m just testing it out first!” A deadpan glare met him. This time, however, it’s slightly more annoyed than he’s used to. Weirdly, something about that look tugged at him faintly. Almost like he’d seen it before.

She takes a deep breath, the inhalation interrupting his silent thoughts. A light exasperated sigh escaped her lips before she turned away from him, bracing herself for what was to come. Nagumo feels the shift in the air—a subtle signal of her ever-growing annoyance.

Although… when is she ever not irritated with him?

That thought itself feels recycled, almost familiar, like he’s contemplated it before in some long-forgotten memory. The walls, the interior, her face, why does it all feel so oddly nostalgic?

“Don’t mess up, you idiot.”

Snapping back into reality, he chuckles, “You’re in good hands, y’know.” The same cheeky grin still gleaming on his face. “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. I’ve inked myself plenty of times!” Her shoulders eased slightly at the reassurance.

“But…” Nagumo drawled. “This is the first time I’ve done it on another person,” he added with a sheepish laugh.

She snaps her head back to look at him, her shoulders tensing again once more. God, she couldn’t stand him.

Almost, he smiles— but not quite. Not from the teasing, but from the déjà vu that was gradually creeping in. Those same eyes, that same glare… hadn’t they shared this before? Or was his mind playing tricks on him?

That sharp stare unnervingly cuts right through him. “Quit it, Nagumo.”

Ah. Perhaps he went a little too far this time.

A hesitant, airy laugh left his mouth. “Alright, Alright, you got it, princess,” he says, his demeanor gradually calming down. Raising the gun back up once more, he promptly rests the needle on her flesh, his other calloused hand settling near the canvas of her shoulder.

Bzzzzzzzzzzz—Nagumo jolted awake from the piercing buzz, the echo of the tattoo gun still ringing in his ears. A faint beam of fluorescent moonlight peaked through the curtains, blending with the lingering vibration in the quiet room.

A bead of sweat traced his temple, the blanket tangled around his body as his chest rose and fell from the jolt. He blinked into the darkness, breath unsteady. That felt real, maybe a bit too real.

Tch. Why am I still dreaming about this crap? JCC was years ago… What time is it even?

He turned his head to the right, expecting his alarm clock on the bedside table, only to be met with a neatly arranged coffee table. It was then that he realized, amidst his discomfort, that his large frame was awkwardly sprawled across a couch far too small for him.

What am I thinking… This isn’t even my plac—

A sharp ache in his abdomen interrupted his thoughts. Instinctively, his hand promptly hovers over the sudden pain. Nagumo gritted his teeth with a hiss. He slowly sat up straight, cautiously trying to avoid any sudden movements that would add to his misery. The blanket that was once lying on his body was slowly unveiled from his chest, revealing his bandaged figure, small spots of blood seeping through the gauze.

These wounds are still fresh, he reckoned.

For a moment, he sat there frozen, listening, half-expecting that sharp bzzzz to erupt again, filling the silence. But all he heard was the steady thrum of his heartbeat, loud against the darkness. Coming to his senses, memories of the events prior flooded back into his head— the exhibition, Sakamoto, X, Granny Miwa’s treatment, You.

As though conjured by his thoughts, his gaze unconsciously drifted upward, and there you were, across from him, facing away on the balcony. Only a sliding glass door separated the two of you, its surface touched with a faint blur of condensation from the moonlit air. The sight of you there tugged at his chest, making his chest ache in a way he couldn’t quite name, even after all these years.

Your arms rested over the balcony railing, a cigarette dangling between your fingers. Smoke curled from your lips, twisting into the night until it vanished. 

Who would’ve thought you’d pick that up? You had a distaste for smoking back at JCC— perhaps Rion had a part in it, he pondered.

His gaze lingered even longer. Your hair was slightly longer than he remembered, and your face was marked with a faint trace of exhaustion.

And did you always look that tired before…?

His eyes drifted to the faint lines of the tattoo on your shoulder, the one he had put there long ago. Time had softened it, but it was still there, just as you seemed to be, unchanged in ways that caught him off guard. You looked different, yet somehow exactly the same, even after all these years.

Nagumo’s gaze lingered over you, nostalgically unwilling to look away.

Finally putting it together, he realized this is your home. Your roof. Your subtle hospitality that had carried him since Miya’s and the exhibition. Despite his attempts to swallow it down, a soft smile tugged at his lips. Followed by a brief, low chuckle, escaping his mouth as he exhaled.

Pfft. Just like old times… still treating me without a word, huh? 

You were unbelievable to him sometimes.

Grabbing what was left draped over his body, he quietly took off the blanket.

Click.

Ah. The balcony door…

You had a feeling he’d be awake when you felt that shift in the air moments ago.

“You need to rest, Nagumo.” Smoke seeped from your mouth, eyes focused on the stillness of Minato City below. The door slid shut with a soft click. Without glancing his way, you could already sense that sly grin forming, a feeling you knew far too well. It had been a long time since you last felt it.

A gentle chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re so cold, y’know.”

His voice came from just behind you, giving you goosebumps, followed by the sound of his meticulous footsteps soon after. In the corner of your eye, he leaned against the railing, one arm propping him up, the other resting near yours, but not quite touching.

“Cold, hm?” you murmured, eyelids half-closed. 

“Mhm. Bled out right in front of you, and that’s the first thing you say to me after I recover?”

“Recover? Your wounds are still open. You’re far from recovering,” you countered.

In your periphery, he tilted his head. “Ah, you’re wounding me more…” he teased, your name slipping softly past his lips. The way he said it felt so delicate. It had been a while since you’d heard it spoken like that.

You sighed, finally turning your head just enough to catch him. The moonlight traced the sharp lines of his face, softened only by that familiar mischief. He was still freshly bandaged, just as you left him, yet his smirk remained unfazed, as though nothing could touch the ease he carried— even in his sorry condition.

Your eyes lingered on his, just for a second. A blank expression met his sight. Nagumo exchanged a teasing smile in return, casually tilting his head again. The ashes of your cigarette trickled off, falling into the abyss below your hand. The wind brushed your cheek, gently sweeping between you two.

You held your gaze on him, and for a moment, you narrowly caught his smile falter. His eyes broke away from yours as he shifted his sights to the city.

“You’re staring,” he muttered, attempting to recover his usual demeanor.

“You looked like you were about to say something.”

He hummed. “Mm, did I?”

Of course, he says shit like this at this moment.

“Yes, you did,” you said, your voice low and deliberate.

…A beat passed.

And then another. You took a small inhale of your cigarette, cutting the silence.

He sighed in defeat. His smile returned to his lips, but this time, it was softer, “Ha… You always read too much into me.”

A thin ribbon of smoke bled into the air as you silently accepted your victory.

“I almost died back there,” Nagumo admitted quietly, no playfulness to soften his tone.

Your fingers tightened slightly around your cigarette. “I know,” you replied.

He glanced at you, studying how your eyes were fixed on the city instead of him, and looked back into the darkness. He feels almost childish for saying something so bluntly in the moment, but he can't stop himself for some odd reason. 

He didn’t have to look at you to know what expression you’d be wearing after hearing something like that. Despite this, when his gaze met yours again, it seemed that a hint of unease flickered across your face. 

Another tug pulled at his chest.

Reluctantly, he continued, “When I woke up… I thought I’d see white ceilings. Granny’s clinic. Maybe Sakamoto’s dumb expression.” Nagumo chuckled to himself, his hand supported his chin, his elbow now resting on the rail.

The skin of his shoulder briefly grazed yours, just barely touching— only enough to feel his warmth. 

“But…” he drawled, “I didn’t think I’d see you.”

You stayed quiet, but a hint of unease filled you, and you swallowed it down fast. But that was enough for him to catch it.

He snickered at you, the corner of his mouth lifting again, “You haven’t changed a bit.” 

“What?”

“You haven’t changed, dummy,” he repeated more gently this time.  “I can read you just as well as you can read me.” His grin made his eyes curve faintly. “You’re thinking about something, I can tell y’know.” 

“You’re insufferable, Nagumo,” you muttered.

“Ah, am I?” he angled his head towards yours, lowering his voice. 

His face was close, way too close. You could practically feel his breath on you when he said that. 

He lifted his finger, his pointer hovering between the skin of your brows, “Your eyebrows crease right here,” studying your expression on your face after that call-out, “Same look you had whenever you were lost in thought back at JCC.”

A sigh left your mouth, “Listen…” calmly swatting his hand away from your face, “you’re overanalyzing me, and you’re not the only one who notices things.”

His hand lingered in the air for a moment before dropping back onto the railing. “Oh?” he tilted towards you again, “Enlighten me then.”

You took one last inhale of your cigarette before pressing the remaining bud into the ashtray beside you. “You’ve changed too.”

He blinked. “Ouch, that's harsh,” he said, with the smuggest expression imaginable.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

“That so? I couldn't tell.”

You gave him a flat look. “Your tattoos.”

Your eyes outlined his neck, the rest of his tattoos hidden beneath the bandages wrapped around his torso. “You didn’t have those before,” your voice dropped slightly, “At least, not at JCC…”

Nagumo’s smirk faltered, just barely— but you caught it.

“Ah, well,” he deflected, “ I just had some extra time on my hands.”

You tsked at his absurd excuse. Another beat of silence passed as the city hummed below.

Breaking the silence, he purposely brushed his arm against your inked shoulder. 

“I thought you would’ve gotten rid of that thing by now,” he added, half-teasing.

“Too much effort.”

“You could've covered it up.”

“I could have.”

“But you didn’t.”

Your eyes drifted away from his, wandering back into the city. 

“Because I don’t want to, idiot,” you mumbled.

Nagumo’s expression went soft, and for once, he was quiet. God, he internally mused, she’s impossible. Absolutely fucking impossible.

He sighed. “Jeez, you really haven't changed.” lifting his arm, bringing the palm of his hand to the head of your hair, caressing it softly.

Your breath still subtly hitching after the admission. You couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eye anymore, “But you have…” you said reluctantly, looking at the ground.

“Nah. I’m still me.”

“Still the same Yoichi?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Ha.” She finally smiles, softly.  A faint gleam flickers in her eye, cutting through the exhaustion.

That’s it. That’s the sight he’s been looking for.

“You haven’t changed one bit, Nagumo.” An airy laugh escapes her lips. He never did change after all this time— at least, not for her.

© qyoriyuu on tumblr; please don’t repost, plagiarize, or translate my work!