rakkiikoi

[rakkiikoi]

endles​:

He blinked, before smiling somewhat awkwardly, which looked more genuine than usually. There was something oddly nice about hearing the other’s suffering as they happen to share the issue with Ren. “Don’t know where she got that from,”  he mused, yet could think of a few things but at least by her family, he had expected her to be more open. She truly does not value the bonds she has, thinking of their very own. He was the only one still fighting for it, trying to remind her. 

Sugawara looked for a second surprised, before pondering about his next words, wondering how much he should bother to keep the act up, but some truth needs to be added despite not liking it.  “She sure does not keep you up to date.”  Should he not have noticed how her apartment probably (most likely) lacks a second person living there, unless he had not been invited to come to her place.  “Or you are a terrible listener.”  Leaving the other wondering about their current relationship. Despite everything, Sugawara still liked to say it is existent, just complicated. 

Finally some good news, and actually chuckling as he could only agree, if Ren or any other woman, he sure had his problems to understand their issues.  “She always likes to make it difficult for me, or the both of us,”  he added, considering Takeshi’s own little issues with his sister.  “I actually have gotten quite good.”  At least he liked to think so, it was beyond rare that he had to cook for someone else than him or Sashimi. His cat certainly enjoyed it. Thinking of her, he looked momentarily at the shelf again, before picking a different brand, just to be safe. Sometimes he found no time to do grocery shopping. 

Inwardly, he would grin. Takeshi made it almost too easy for him. It was almost suspicious, like it was just a matter of time, that the other would reveal that he had tricked him!  “If that’s no issue for you, got tomorrow free?”  Meanwhile giving the boy a light push, so they could pay finally unless there was still something he needed to buy. 

Not where but when, Takeshi wants to add before smothering the thought — Ren tabooed the topic of her pre-Tokyo life altogether, be it sharing this information with Sugawara or anyone else. It was that short period of time that changed her, he used to think, but maybe the sprouts of her edginess (what else was it really) have been there for a long time. Just dormant.

Frowning in a little bit of disbelief there, Takeshi allows himself to give Jiro a little tiny bit of a side eye — now the king of vague is talking, eh? In whatever mystery Sugawara wanted to shroud their current relationship status, made it even more obvious things weren’t alright between the two. Not like it was — Takeshi even gives out a small hum — fort the first time, probably not the last either; who is he however to deny poor man some pride with a sister like this? “Sure”, he laughs, carefree expression making small wrinkles form in the corner of his eyes. “Might be both, and it’s a terrible combo”.

“Maybe she thinks that that easy cheese is in the mousetrap”, he suggests, finally making their way back to the checkouts, as Sugawara finally fetches something new for his cat. Somehow it was strange to imagine him with a male cat somehow, but with some sort of spoiled, lovely housecat — easy peasy. Takeshi would grin for a second, delving into his fantasies, but only for a few seconds. Conversation still called for his attention.

“Oh”, he utters surprised, waving his arms, “I meant now, you know, get to Combini down the street to fetch a beer and wait, maybe re-call. Tomorrow I need to cram real hard, no slacking”. Takeshi raises both of his hands in an excuse, but more out of politeness than actual guilt or something. After all his studies were and are more important, and that’s a conscience choice he made. In the paradigm of their lives Sugawara was an irregularity, an error, so maybe that automatically meant favouring something else over reminiscing.

Thank god there is a self-checkout, where Takeshi would process his cart rather quickly, after all he frequented this store line a lot; there even was a small discount — a detail but nice — and if he dares say so himself he did rather nice job stuffing it all in the enormous pits of his backpack before Sugawara could join him at the exit.

“So, have you made up your mind?"

#.ic [/cipher] ⸺ inu.ini #v.-main[/eventtriggers] ⸺ boot.ini #endles

[rakkiikoi]

a ren ren | @rakkiikoi

#.ic [/cipher] ⸺ koi.ini #.aesthetic[/ftp] ⸺ jpg. #endles #FNAWIOJFOPJAWPFK #A FISH WAS NEVER THIS SEXY #the empowerment this piece gives #is akin to the slutty jiro pics i swear #mindboner #WHY IS U SO TALENTED #*kisses hands*

[rakkiikoi]

mugunghwc​:

      to be reaffirmed that he was allowed to enjoy this as well, without experience any guilt or shame whatsoever, shouldn’t have been necessary, but it was. a casual reminder that despite not acting like the other hosts, daeyun was still fulfilling his role as one & showing her a pleasant time. it had been her choice to remain this close, this intimate & engage in conversation rather than partake in anything more sexual. this, proving to be far more satisfactory, as it was hard to find elsewhere. or at least, that’s what daeyun hoped for. would she be in such an ease had she chosen someone different? he wondered, though tried his best not to let those kinds of thoughts plague him & take away from this moment—one that he wished to remember for days to come.

    “we?” he repeats, raising a single eyebrow. “i’d say you’re in charge here. at least for now.” daeyun insisted, straightening his back & using his free hand to do a salute. “i’m at your services, after all.” & while the gesture was nice, daeyun tried not to completely lose sight of what this was: a service. one that consisted in him fulfilling any wish she had & make sure that she was not only satisfied, but wanting more. even if he couldn’t care less about rankings, having nagi visit more often would be a plus. like taking a break in the middle of work. why did he have to limit himself to seeing her just outside of stardust? the thought of this being in the realm of possibilities lifted his spirits. any amount of tension that he felt before, had vanished. the umeshu playing a role in that, as well…

    daeyun glanced in the direction of the bottle before looking back at her, tilting his head slightly. “how well can you hold your liquor? i wouldn’t want your money to go to waste, but i would hate to get you drunk.” a serious concern masked in a playful manner. his head duck down as he leaned closer ; returning the gesture & also squinting while scrunching his nose. “you’re not just being cute with me ‘cause you’re tipsy, right?”

The moment between an inquiry and explanation feels like an eternity — one Ren almost regrets, biting the inner side of her lip. Well, isn’t she just a desperate idiot at times? Wasn’t she set on not getting ahead of herself? Easier set than done, yet it was something Daeyun brought into their conversation, the effect he had; quite doubtful there would be such a slip otherwise. Or a set date in a game arcade. Or getting away proposal, eloping almost would they be few hundreds years in the past. The breath that leaves her is one of relief, really, hiding any grin that would’ve otherwise find its way on her features — the mentioning her being in control sure did rub her the right way. A reminder of what was partially making Ren so comfortable — the metaphorical reins given. Even if for a short period of time, even if paid for.

“My bad”, she shrugs, not giving away any of prior distress, and allows herself to chuckle, “indeed you are”.

Despite obviously hinting — just a little bit — that this control might not always fall into her hands easily like that. And despite her needing that, after all things happening probably more than ever [or else she’d try her luck elsewhere], giving a tiny portion doesn’t seem too bad. Like that one time he touched her face — and immediate thought that she would not mind him doing it again makes her cheeks heat up.

Ren follows his gaze, being surprised by his question for an instance, blinks few times, mirroring the tilt of his head, before allowing herself to laugh again — when was last time she felt that uplifted? Leaning into his arm Ren then shakes her head, then nodding to the bottles. “Being good with liquor was my criteria in the first place”, she explains, gesturing at the bottles purchased as if they were something, well… mild. “And we…We decided to be dandy and sober tomorrow, remember?”

Daeyun looks so adorably kissable, that it startles her, yet Ren manages to boop his nose lightly with the tip of her finger first. Maybe as a forewarning. Maybe because she wants to move it lower, to his lips. Not sure. 

“Who knows? You gotta find this out next time I visit, or take a bet”, her tone is light, as to indicate that however teasing her words might sound, she doesn’t mind it. An almost childish giggle comes out of her lips. “So, I am cute?”

#.ic [/cipher] ⸺ koi.ini #v.-main[/eventtriggers] ⸺ boot.ini #mugunghwc

[rakkiikoi]

endles​:

Jiro blinked in confusion, did she just? AS IF it was his fault that she was never that desperate for him? He really had no need for such quickness now, no but it still hurt his ego nonetheless and he actually looked down at himself, wondering for just a second or two, if he was not as handsome as he thought to be. “Idiot,”  he huffs at her. Since he could take care of himself, be it simply life or standing up for himself, he had gotten rather vain, enough to not even shy away from going to the beauty doc, when he could afford it, otherwise it was mainly just working out and pondering over which products to use to escape the natural aging process. While scars had a certain appeal for some, he was not too keen on them and hoped that everything would heal without leaving any trace, especially his face.

“What did you say?!”  he gasped, truly the worst comparison she could pick for him, never he looked this aghast, his fingers clenching into the blanket. He really wanted to slap her for this, a desire that only mildly shocked him but still enough that he looked rather quiet all of sudden, trying to somewhat behave again as she was still in charge. His mood was slightly lifted as she tugged on her underwear, his eyes immediately fixed on them. Once a chance arose, he would slip his toe below her panties, pulling slightly before it moved back with a nice slapping noise. Her skin was so smooth, right now she almost looked more beautiful than him; he really wanted to dig his fingers into her flesh, squish and massage it till it would redden. 

What’s with that look, he had to wonder while his own eyes turned into slits, she sure could be quite mischievous too. Today really would be an awful time for that, perhaps any day, but right now he really had not much patience for anything. With the bra being removed, it raised his hopes for more, for something better than simply offering him a show.

He had almost forgotten that he had asked for a shirt, his attention already elsewhere and mildly present between his legs.  “Don’t enjoy this too much.”  Treating him like a baby.  “That won’t happen ever again,”  he stated while complying, moving his arms forward, before she helped him to get into his black shirt, though his breathing hitched the moment she pushed her knee against him.  “Ren-,”  he barely voices, the shirt already over his head. Still looking mildly shocked after seeing her again. A soft ah escaped him as she teased him further, only to blink at her while he suddenly dropped back, keeping himself only up on his elbows while staring up at her.  “Wait?”  Was she serious, or just teasing him, he really could not tell if she wanted him to sleep despite with his half-boner now, or actually enjoy herself with him in bed. 

“Don’t you think… you are forgetting something there?”  Jiro asked and tilted his head slightly, before he actually had to give in as it was too exhausting to keep himself up like that, laying completely on his back now, while trying not to sound too much out of breath as he forced himself to breathe through his nose. Tensing his body like that, really does him no good at the moment, but he would manage to use his leg, pressing his foot right against her crotch, nudging her yet again.  “C’mon, what you need still works,”  he tried to reason, though unsure if she really was wet or if it was still from the shower.  “Just needs some attention.”  Smirking now, while looking more desperate than he realized. 

Jiro is cute when he’s clueless, his mouth agape in a loud almost shameful gasp, wounded features twisted in a momentary miserable expression — a treat so rare served, it makes her snicker and want to ruffle his hair. Or better shut him up. Or something more substantial, making her cheeks burn and insides twist pleasantly at the thought of it. He looks like a wet dog — a quite demanding one at that; exchanging teasing remarks without battling an eyelash. How easy he was to forget himself in her arms, bloody, beaten and absolutely helpless, huh. Ren shakes her head, making damp hair obscure her vision for a moment — should probably cut it shorter — before murmuring a dismissive “Relax” his way. That’s all he needs to do, really. Relax.

The way he is alarmed in her presence for a second makes her blood rush — a sharp inhale — oh but she will. If it will never — ever happen again, shouldn’t she savour? That expression on his face, making her heart flutter? Those needy noises, making her as excited. It’s contagious, whatever this is, but… She’d to remind herself of his condition, feeling this familiar adrenaline tingle: nothing ever gets you as going as the proximity of death — your stupid animal brain telling you to reproduce while you still can. However tempting that was, the thought of redoing his bandages and messing the bed did sober her a little bit, while she observed his face half-lidded, almost entranced how easily agitated Jiro could be. Just from a little touch — her touch — he better not forget how attentive and kind she could be. Tending to his wounds. Tending to his needs.

“Mmm?”, she hums, as the composure leaves him, makes his position actually more convenient than trying to be imaginative at the edge of the bed. Fuck those unfortunate wounds, preventing her to just fucking crawl over and sit on him, damn, he couldn’t even keep her on his knees back in the bathroom. Ren lets a barely audible sigh however a grin ultimately makes its way back on her face — Jiro finally getting a whiff of things — despite his crudeness. On the contrary, it almost makes Ren laugh, the attempts to gain back his groove as soon as possible, while laying on the bed, his dick out and begging for attention. But today Jiro Sugawara was in luck, or so she thinks, when he reciprocates the friction back in her direction, making her exhale loudly, leaning in just a little bit. “What would that be?”

His desperate plea evokes a chuckle, as she moves, sliding on the bed just beside him, her leg now stretched and her hand gripping him instead. Ren props herself on her free elbow, hand under chin, to have a better look at Jiro’s face and all the emotions that gonna be there in just a few moments — that’s better than any possible pill. Too bad he can’t take proper care of her, but well, she’s a big girl. Her hand feels dry, so she takes time to give it a proper, thick lick, because she’s not going to the nightstand for proper lube right now. In fact she’s not going anywhere. “Well”, she murmurs, “you were so brave, so I figure you deserve some kind of reward”. Her fingers curling almost cautiously at first, as she grips Jiro at the base again, starting with rather slow pumping motions, to build pace gradually as she feels him harden, but not overdoing it at once. Jiro has such a short fuse it’s sometimes adorable, so adorable Ren regrets going for hands instead of something easier. Working him off like that, with a steady rhythm is nice, but she knows what would be nicer, and the love-hate relationship that revelation evokes in her — it’s so irrational. Ren looks down to where her hand is, feeling her body warming up, tensing just a bit since she is not going to get the same treatment — but then again isn’t it his reward…then maybe she could…be nice.

“Oh, fuck it”, Ren huffs, pushing the annoying hair beside her ear before propping herself back to a half-seated position — not too comfy, but it’ll do — and down to where her attention was needed. Exhale before her lips meet the swollen head, opening her mouth to welcome him, wet tongue out to help her take it easier and a bit deeper, but not all the way down, not yet. A light suck — it comes out of her mouth with a loud dirty pop — adjusting both her head and her hand so they can work him off together, now when her mouth offers enough wetness for her to start bobbing her head with a quicker pace. 

#.ic [/cipher] ⸺ koi.ini #v.-main[/eventtriggers] ⸺ boot.ini #.tw[/insert] ⸺ sugestive. #endles

[rakkiikoi]

endles​:

“Then hurry,”  he huffed, clearly as impatient as ever with everything. He had been laying here long enough, while offering himself from his most pitiful sight. Once she was done, he would look down at his bandaged up shoulder and how it will definitely hinder him for a few days, at least he hoped so that it would be just some days. He does not want to lose his (already low) position over something as stupid as this, even though it clearly could not be avoided in retrospect. 

“Of course…”  But he was not too keen to stand yet, even more so the getting up part was troubling him, forcing him to once again to rely on Ren to even properly sit at least. This was getting on his nerves but right now it could not be avoided. Nevertheless, with his naked feet touching the floor now, they got wet too, he had to chuckle now, allowing himself to flex his toes, before touching the cold tiles. Now comes the part, he had not been looking forward to, though she focused on his belt first, and despite his prior embarrassment, he could only smirk now.  “You were never this quick before,”  he noted and tilted his head slightly as he looked at her rather amused.

He grunted slightly when he got up, more due to the irritation at his wounds through the movement, pressing his good hand right against the shower wall to keep himself steady. Now that was a familiar (and far better) perspective, when he looked down on her, focusing on his pants - if only it could have been one of those days, and not this mess from today.  “Easy,”  he seemed to remind her, though more to make fun of, as he definitely found his good mood back with her doing something supposedly dirty via undressing him. It was so tempting to just grab her hair and pull her face close to his groin, though he doubted he would receive any help after this. Perhaps a little. Before she could continue with his boxers, she would feel his fingers lightly going through her hair, clearly trying to avoid making any quick movements.  “Do I need to get hurt more often, so that you pay attention to me?”  Jiro wondered, and recalled how she only took note of him during the time he got beaten up. 

Rather irritated, he would stare down on the towel, holding it only rather reluctantly. Not because of the slight pain in his palm, but because he could not really understand as of why. Was she embarrassed now? Or did she seriously think he was that embarrassed now?! Not because of that, he was as vain as ever about his looks, even if ruined on the upper half, the issue was more the need of requiring her help. The moment he had to step out of his clothing, he would simply drop the towel; falling right to the rest she could later wash.  “…”  He said nothing, while wondering what might be going on through her head. 

“Finally.”  The soft mattress was much more appreciated than the bathroom floor, also allowing him a small break again, standing this long sure had gotten him a bit dizzy again. When he heard her undress, his gaze went back up and he smiled slightly.  “Ain’t there wet too?”  he points out with a nod of his head, directed at the panties she still wore. Now he was definitely smirking, even if just for a moment as he got reminded of the bruises across his face. Damn, he really could not help but to seduce her even in such a moment, where he looked the least attractive. 

He would shake his head at the sight of pants, not because he did not like them, but he simply was not in the mood to wear anything with sitting on the bed now. Just laying under the blanket would do the job, considering his torso though…  “A shirt will do.”  And as she turned around again, he stretched his leg out, nudging her butt - he rather wanted her here, with him. 

“You never asked me to”, the immediate bounce of her answer isn’t even registered, since it’s something so insignificant Ren doesn't even consider pondering on; she wasn’t used to rip pants off Jiro just like that, for the record, like a worried mother hen. Other activities they usually indulged in never required to think too much about articles of clothing — being preoccupied of processing this situation makes her frown with slight irritation. Just let her do her fucking job — God knows when it became one — thought so common, so easily slipped in her mind, as if things have always been this way. Just the two of them against the world in most dire  or stupid of situations. 

The caution with he dares to brush his hand through her hair evokes a smirk filled with twisted delight; it’s almost as an attraction to wild animal that can bite your whole hand off — a silent recognition — a subtle touch of fingertips, though he probably did think of something else entirely. Which proved right seconds later, when he decided that whatever is natural is not disgusting. Ren allows herself to blink on the display, for a second more concerned about a now ruined towel she supposed to help him wipe off the excessive water with, but alas. He has always been a little bit of a show off — it makes Ren scrunch her nose — that’s so juvenile. However it’d be stupid to deny that Jiro was, in all parts of his body, well built, especially now, when fully grown; she still remembered how edgy his shoulder blades looked all those years back. Maybe it should be rather taken as a work of art — despite him grunting and barely moving till he lands on the bed — with reverence and adoration. Ah, right. That’s what this is about.

“Stop nagging like an old man”, she teases as Jiro finally rests his undoubtedly wet ass on the top sheet, spirits lifted, “I’ll take care of that after I take care of you”. Ren sometimes hated how easily contagious his moods were — here one minute she was worried sick and mending his wounds, and yet now he just mansplains like that, teasing her back. It was unbelievable, yet that was what she loved. The worms of doubt never left, but he sure caught her attention back with this misplaced playfulness. “Unless you want to take care of it yourself”, she huffs, tugging at the side of her underwear.

The impulse to order him to lay naked is too strong, as that’s the quickest way to just end this whole worry in one go, but the common sense — which Jiro had for a second — urges her to turn around to fetch him a shirt. Until the demanding nudge comes right at her; Ren stills for a second, torn between indulging and pondering about the audacity — his feet is cold and wet goddamn. There’s only so much time for her to make up her mind, deciding whenever she wants to drop the act or what? Make him wipe her feet and beg at them?

A shirt is finally on top of the drawer, as Ren slowly turns around, locking eye contact. So much unspoken need —or does he just don’t care to hide it — and her lips curl upwards just a bit. She’s needed — almost a physical sensation, sending goosebumps on her skin. Jiro, Jiro, Jiro. Didn’t he earn a little reward? “Alright”, she draws out in lower tone. Her bra finally getting too sticky, so she undoes the front clasp and shrugs the annoying piece of clothing off — it’ll be more comfortable to just get something on later. “Stretch your hands in front of yourself. Slowly”. It takes her just a few steps before she uses her knee to nudge him back, placing it conveniently between his legs for support. As if unfazed by that Ren dutifully helps him with only article of clothing, putting his arms and head in; good that his tops are mostly loose. Her hands now free then land on his thighs, fingers brushing up a little bit before holding still.

Jiro looks so deliciously puzzled she wants to laugh, but instead Ren shakes her head a little and applies just a bit more pressure, a slight rub. “Well”, she breathes out, trying to remember the expression of his beaten face, “time for you to go to bed”.

#.ic [/cipher] ⸺ koi.ini #v.-main[/eventtriggers] ⸺ boot.ini #endles

[rakkiikoi]

👪 …someone in my muse’s family.

There’s always a certain ring to a word “mother”, as it is the one who gave you life. Your caretaker — person you cling to seconds after birth. Sometimes Ren wonders, what her mother was before all this. Before being unable to leave the newborn child for adoption, unable to abort her, unable to prevent all the terrible things that were about to happen, before rape. The old pictures and certificates around the house always showed an example student, an aspired graduate, a gentle smile of a striving physician. Ren remembers her mother’s smile and how early she learned to know what it meant, be it the slight curl or the shameful thin line. She remembers her mother’s hands, always fidgeting and dry from housekeeping, cooking, taking care of Takeshi. She remembers the safe distance of two steps between them, the ever present void. The hidden softness of her voice to the point it made Ren furious. And all the times held in her mother’s arms, for they were not many.

Ari, however, always remembers the strictness her mother taught her with, her voice, always urging her to do more, better. Alina watched her mother, former prima of Russian Ballet, from as long as she could remember, graceful as a swan, a picture, a princess. Never a fidgeting movement, never an outbreak of emotion. She was an idol, an ideal, a breath of passion into Alina’s soul; they managed their equipment together, they managed their time, they were as close as a mother and mentor could be with a child. Ari could still feel the small of her mother’s hand, brushing through her hair, patting on her back — get it straight — being more merciless than any other professional. Ari never realised how much her mama wanted success, how Ari, her carbon copy, was a chance to attain that dream she sacrificed for the family. Her stubbornness, her maniacal pursue of perfection passed down, where Alina took it in the new direction. Ari still believes the decision to abandon ballet career was fatal. But what killed her mother was cancer.

#.ic [/cipher] ⸺ matryoshka.ini #.ic [/cipher] ⸺ koi.ini #.ask[/nbtstat] ⸺ anon. #finally getting to those.

[rakkiikoi]

endles​:

She seemed to know more than he would have expected from her. So there were still parts, he does not fully know about her, which feels a little bit odd, there should not be any kind of secrets between them. Though mostly, he was rather relived now that she was not a complete amateur and by her, he could be at least (mostly) himself. He despises his true one, weak - good for nothing, it was nothing he wanted to be associated with anymore, completely erasing that past from his mindset, no one would ever learn about this side about him again, only Ren will ever know. It brought an odd comfort, but at the same time, he sometimes wished that she would not know, so she does not hold any kind of power over him.

And yet, here he was seeking some rare comfort. If he really had to die, then at least with her at his side, even if she would be the cause of it, he would still seek her out. 

He flinches slightly when she moves her head, embracing his hand only further but he would keep his hand mostly steady till she kisses it. Jiro blinked in disbelief, not sure what to make out of that gesture - it was too gentle, it felt almost undeserving.  “Ren?”  he quietly wondered, lost in her gaze, which was framed by a few hair strands, which dared to fall back. She never looked this beautiful in this moment. 

As she took care of his hand, eventually he had to somewhat lower it, feeling rather numb with his blood flow barely reaching the fingertips. Nothing was fully healed yet, apart of the smallest cuts, and yet it was quite a difference to have most of his wounds patched up by now, allowing him to worry a little bit less.  “I am still,”  he huffed, and actually grabbed his wrist with his other hand to keep it perfectly still; grimacing slightly when she applied a bit too much pressure again, but at the same time the weight was weirdly comforting. He would allow himself to flex his hand just a little bit after she was done, barely having time to appreciate her work as she already caught his lips with her own, reminding him how dry his own felt, but it would not stop him to indulge in the little bit attention. A nice distraction until she reminded him of the stitches. 

He shook his head, daring to believe he will handle it but also having no real plan on what exactly he should hold here, especially with his one bandaged up hand, whose movement was a little bit restricted now, and more pressure would probably ruin Ren’s work.  “I will handle it,”  he murmurs, not out to argue with her, while actually trusting her fully. He would keep looking at her, till the needle caught his attention more, debating whether to close his eyes or not, if it would be smart to actually watch, but there was a certain fascination with the way she dared to move it through his flesh, while he forced himself to remain as still as possible, biting hard on his lip, before sighing whenever there was a small break from the intrusion. 

When she was done, the pain he had felt seemed rather insignificant now, like it had not been that bad, it was actually bearable, though perhaps he should blame the pain killers for that, he was not entirely sure but still liked to give himself some credit. As kid, he would have probably screamed.  “Cold…”  he reminded her, and so was she. She really could have watched out more with the water, at least by herself, then her lap would be more comfortable. At the same time, on the wounds it felt rather soothing but overall, he wanted to get out of the tight, wet clothing. Freezing slightly.  “…”  He managed to kick his shoes off, before trying to open his belt with one hand, trying not to sigh out of frustration.  “Get me outta this finally,”  he huffed, some colour reaching his cheeks - in a situation like this, it was rather embarrassing to be undressed. 

It takes few moments before she takes it what is happening back in the reality, reliving the last several minutes, the sight of his lips, bruised and bitten, the way his body flinched before eventually relaxing; he has been so brave. There were words of praise, but she just strokes his temples and his hair instead absent-mindedly, soothing, but not sure who needed it more in this moment — him or her? The worst was seemingly behind them, the deepest of his cuts treated, sutured, and small knots of thread mending the reddened flesh now indicating that. Maybe all this emotional rush was because it was Jiro — and it did matter to her what result her actions, still unprofessional, would cause. Ren did not want to make it worse.

They take this little breather in trusting silence, both catching their breaths finally, the memory of that encounter — not exactly the first, or was it? — his beaten body on the ground, moaning in pain, and herself, staring helplessly. Now she wasn’t. It didn’t take a kiss anymore to help him out, but the steady work of her hands. The precision and clearness of her mind. The emotional wave crushes and abides, leaves her heart fluttering frantically but slowing as every drawn out breath comes out of her mouth. Ren does not even realise her skin got goosebumps from the cold, that the pants stuck to her skin — as nothing of these things ever mattered when he was in such pain. She brushes her hair back in frustration, realising both of them might get a cold — a good thing to get some antibiotics for him, by the way — before giving him a silent half-nod.

The sudden movement makes her flinch, as Ren watches how he gets the shoes off, making the socks inevitably wet as an aftermath. “No, your shoulder first”, she says in protest, but not too firm, getting the bandages ready to cover her work: she has to move him up a bit to be able to secure the injury with the vest-like bandaging, allowing him to move the limb more or less, but preferably less of course. Jiro still weights a lot, and Ren huffs, trying to figure out the best possible logistics in this case. Nothing smart comes to mind after emotional surge, so she sighs in resignation. Or determination, depends on the point of view.

“Can you stand?”, she asks, knowing that the answer does not matter much — she’ll drag him if needed, gladly his legs were all right so far, just the fatigue. Ren helps him to sit up a bit, since the instruments and the meds need to be put back in the container and under the sink, then she finally tends to the socks, taking them off and tossing to the side, and then finally taking in the color flushed to his face. It makes her freeze for a moment, taken aback of how… what’s the word even… these are, as if they are teens again. Or she never had seen him in his underwear. 

“The change is in the bedroom, leave these here, I’ll wash the blood off later”, her hands linger above the belt buckle as if unsure, before undoing it swiftly and pulling the belt out. “Okay, I need you to stand up”. It’s easier this time with shower wall as a support, and Ren grabs the closest towel, tossing it on her shoulder, before undoing the button and the zipper on his pants. In any other situation that would’ve been more than suggestive, stripping him while kneeling like that; Jiro wouldn’t let her just go and do as she pleased — there was something to his current powerlessness she could take advantage of, but he was injured. That’s enough. With a sigh Ren wraps the towel around his waist, like she did for Takeshi when they were little, making him hold the knot with his healthy hand for the dear life of his. With that out of the way, Ren pulls the wet bottom down to his knees, then leg by leg down the ankles. Thankfully he helps by lifting his feet, so she drags the stubborn garment down while still giving him a semblance of privacy. Until he has to put on the change that is.

“Okay”, she concludes, once again helping him to find support, “Lets go”. Thankfully their apartment isn’t that huge and the shared bedroom is just few steps away. Ren patiently helps him sit on the bed, finally able to take her own wet pants down — they’ll go to the laundry too — and throwing them across the corridor to the bathroom, where all the mess of blood and dirt was for her to clean tomorrow. “Any preference?”, she jokes and moves to the drawer and bends to the compartment belonging to Jiro. Ren knows at this point he does not care, but takes out the pair of trousers to her liking only to present them, eyeing his messy form.

#.ic [/cipher] ⸺ koi.ini #v.-main[/eventtriggers] ⸺ boot.ini #endles

[rakkiikoi]

mugunghwc​:

       while the world around them got off on their sin, what they had going on between them was far too innocent to belong in a place such as stardust. it was as if they were two children who sneaked in & didn’t like what there was to offer, so instead they built a fort of their own. their little haven, to keep away from everyone else. throughout the whole thing, daeyun couldn’t shake off this feeling—feeling so playful, so light. it momentarily helped him to forget all about his responsibilities outside of work. matters that usually weight him down, didn’t seem too important anymore. he briefly wondered if he was over doing it with the alcohol, considering this wasn’t his first one of the night, but whatever the reason was, he didn’t want it to go away. not yet.

    the way she phrased it made him wonder if there was a particular reason as to why it came off as odd ; as if subtly warning him about her pictures being spread, or something along those lines. was she shy? he wondered, though that wouldn’t really make sense considering she showed up at a host club on her own. if anything, it was him who came off as shy in comparison. daeyun offered her a look that suggested he hadn’t even considered it ; shaking his head before he speaks. “i wouldn’t dream of sharing them, then.” he reassured her, finding no reason to do otherwise. “you can trust me.”

     like two kids, they were dipping into the water way too early & without a care in the world. no supervision, or assistance. just each other to lean on. both, exciting & terrifying at once. his attention was drawn back to her—smile interrupted—as he stares at her with curious wonder. the touch of her hand being his floater, pulling him back to the surface before he went too deep into his thoughts. a somewhat awkward, yet gracious laughter erupted from him before he placed a hand atop of hers, returning the gesture from before. “because it should be me the one making you laugh like this. not the other way around.”

Bizarre how place named after remains of dead stars, a magic remedy found in fairytales, was so far from its glittery origin. However somehow they managed to shut off the displays outside the booth, gathering the fairy powder — stardust, into their own hands. Maybe it was the point, really, not the infernal descent, but the opportunity to build up what you want from what was given. And, so it seems, both of them happened to be in concord about that one thing — comfort. The soothing lightness of their touches, the intimate affirmations of their smiles reserved for each other. Maybe it was a fairytale to fall off by stroke of midnight, but Ren is certain to hold onto this, a little childish, a little selfish.

Her words do what they should, but Ren allows herself a reassuring smile and a hum — she knows whatever is in the digital sphere falls into her domain. Stopping the spread of this information isn’t technically hard, she’s not an idol with over the top vitality after all. Yes, there should be sacrifice to all the cute pictures her dear ones might want to share, but it’s been like that for years. Ren lost the habit of being  proudly shown. His words make the corners of her lips curl slightly — the way he affirms it, despite the wording. Despite so many people asking such a simple thing; people she trusted and they didn’t live up to their promises. Trusting always came with a price, and trusting a stranger — despite feeling they knew each other for years after simple conversation — is a game of Russian roulette. Daeyun loads a gun. Ren takes it to her temple. Trust him.

“I know”, she dares to breathe out, somehow, despite even, when their gazes meet again, focus back at her. Ren catches when it caught him off guard, before basking in the sound of his laughter — somehow making her feel bubbly in return — and the warmth of his hand. Ren scrunches her nose and squints a bit, as if being just stubbornly playful, she is, like a teacher asking a tricky question. “And who said that’s the order of things?”, Ren muses, drawing out a pretentious pause before bursting out in satisfied laughter herself. She then tugs a little on his earlobe, just to remind that it’s allowed to be silly. “We make the rules”.

#.ic [/cipher] ⸺ koi.ini #v.-main[/eventtriggers] ⸺ boot.ini #mugunghwc

[rakkiikoi]

The Witch: Part 2 - Park Hoon Jung 2022

#.ic [/cipher] ⸺ koi.ini #.aesthetic[/ftp] ⸺ gif. #.tw[/insert] ⸺ sugestive.

[rakkiikoi]

endles​:

She always gotta know better, … always hold this some sort of power over him with the little bit more knowledge she holds. Others would feel pride with being connected to someone like that, and he sure did to a certain extent but it still annoyed him a lot, when she held a different opinion than him, even if she was more correct. He simply could not deal with it, which only lead to further frustration. 

A topic for another time, right now he just saw the white porcelain (till he ruined it), the sight and smell only got him more nauseous, choking out of reflex, but there was nothing his stomach could offer anymore. Slowly, though slumping more back, he remained seated on the floor, not able to comprehend anything in this second, his mind never felt emptier until she called him back into this awful reality. Jiro grimaced at the sight of water, even though he clearly needed it, but his throat still felt irritated, and he was not out for another round. Though the moment the glass met his lips, he automatically swallowed. The cooling water offering an actual positive effect to his sore throat, soothing it, while he hoped that his stomach could take it. He tugged his head away from her, the moment she attempted to clean his mouth, before forcing himself to remain still.  “…”  Like a baby, she was treating him like a baby. He shut his eyes, this really could not be happening, that he really required her help that much.  “Don’t look at me,”  he huffed, still avoiding her gaze, while still not knowing how to properly behave around her. In this moment, he truly held no power, and however he tried to regain it, it would only worsen his current state. Today he really could not win. 

He still looked annoyed, but followed her command, without noticing that he would lay on her lap once he felt her legs pressing against the back of his head, offering some nice comfort, while also realizing that she had gotten quite wet as well from the shower. His eyes shot up, meeting her gaze, only to avoid it again. He was truly helpless on this day.  “I didn’t mean to lose,”  he murmured and let out a sigh, the pain really had lessened but for that he could concentrate too much on his thoughts again. He really did not mean to lose, to be weak all over again - to be reprimanded, beaten further till he understood. Her softness was too much, he did not deserve - need it, but he wanted to indulge so badly. 

There were only a few hisses as she treated his wounds, he actually remained mostly calm, even relaxed at this point, half dozing off until some pain returned when she focused on one of the bigger cuts. His head was turned towards her belly, blinking slowly before allowing himself to lightly press his forehead against it, not even realizing that he was being soft here. 

“Yes…”  He felt clean, apart of the wet clothing that stuck to him like glue, it had barely dried. Jiro would look up at her, before following her palm that brushed ever so lightly against his bruised cheek. This was why she was so important to him, only she would accept him, no matter what. At the mention of stitching, he did not react at first, rather he wanted to keep indulging in the simple touch she offered him. The mix of pain and pleasure was oddly nice.  “Do you even know how?”  he wondered, though he did not appear worried. If it had to be done, it had to be done, even if he was not looking forward to it, but considering he still intended to get a tattoo, he should be able to bear it, right?  “Just get over with it…”  Clearly he wanted to indulge in other matters, keeping it difficult for her as he remained in his comfortable position. Even moving one arm around her, while the other reached upwards, stroking her cheek with his still bloodied hand, reminding her of that cut too. 

Don’t look at me, my ass. Ren huffed, knowing well enough that would be what she said to him in reversed situation. How often did she crawl into the Pit to just…exist for a few hours, miserable, a disgust to herself. She would never allow someone to see her like that, or at least would try to — someone always has to be strong. Calm. Collected. Someone has to carry on, and when you have no one — like she did — the burden falls to your own shoulders, whenever you have the guts to carry it or not. Ren is there in this minuscule bathroom, stained with dirt, blood and water, with him. For him.

She sighs while still tending to his body, yanking out an old iodine bottle to draw a net over baddest of bruises — a trick her grandmother taught her once. Ren blinks at the sudden memory unfit to the situation, but is there a way to properly react to it? There’s a lingering sense of helplessness that pours from him, making her hands shake ever so little, so Ren has to bite the inner side of her cheek to come back to her senses. Jiro finally manages to hold still, it brings a little bit of relief, until Ren realises he nuzzles into her belly like a blind kitten; she stops for a second to even process this feeling — somebody being dependant of her so much, bearing something sinisterly bubbly in her chest. Jiro needs her.

“Mhm”, she affirms with the hum, indulging him a little bit, but him rustling and coming forth himself catches her off guard. The bloodied hand comes into her view, reminding to get that treated first, irritation about unnecessary movement mixed with something more needy. Ren leans into the touch he offers, where it should be her to take care of him right now: her face nuzzling into his palm before she places a light kiss in the center of it. Memories of less intimate encounters with sutures, gore and men covered in irezumi eyeing her every move flood her mind. How she sometimes wondered what would they do if she decided to pry into the fleshy wound instead of being forced to mend it. Ren remembers the stench of their bodies, sweaty from fear and adrenaline, the stitches she made big enough to hurt and mess up the ink. The slap her father gave her, when she injected the needle too deep…

“Lets get your hand treated first”, Ren murmurs more to herself than to soothe him, pads ready to clean the wound. It’s almost convenient that he reaches up, allowing her to get access to the cut properly, sanitize it carefully. Maybe she takes too much time making sure he doesn’t feel worse, just because Ren herself would have like that. Being treated with something akin of respect? Care? Protection? Kindness? There sure was a word for it but any she tries to pass feels ultimately flat and lacking. It’s a feeling she can’t place, so Ren shakes her head and shakes it off. “Keep still”, another command before she manages to patch it properly, bandaging with some force enough for the patch to press into his skin but not enough to completely disturb the blood flow.

Ren reaches for his face once more, lowering to give a small, rewarding kiss — you’re doing good — placing her palm along his cheek, not purely sure if her hand is burning or his skin. “Almost done”, she says, “you better hold onto something. I’ll try to be quick.” And she means that — they have no time and resource to perform something complicated — Ren decides to go for the continuous long stitch. It takes her few minutes to position him to get better access to his shoulder, gather the needle, sterilize it, get some thread and needle holders. 

“Breathe”. Is what she always said before stitching. Ren starts at the wound edge to work along the wound,  grasping and evert the skin edge gently with her other hand, needle drives perpendicular to the skin, grabbing the tip with needle holders — there are no gloves, as in who the fuck would have them at disposal, so she has to be extra careful. It’s not some common thug she doesn’t even know. It’s Jiro. Her Jiro.

She mumbles something soothing each time he inevitably flinches, trying to work as fast as possible — thank god the cut is deep but not long — before the five stitches are done and tied properly. Blood pulses in her temples, coming as a rush the second she allows the concentration to slip, and a shaky exhale escapes her.

“How are you?”, her voice is hoarse with worry and as low, “now just the bandage and we’re good”.

#.ic [/cipher] ⸺ koi.ini #v.-main[/eventtriggers] ⸺ boot.ini #endles

[rakkiikoi]

The Witch: Part 2 - Park Hoon Jung 2022

#.ic [/cipher] ⸺ koi.ini #.aesthetic[/ftp] ⸺ gif.

[rakkiikoi]

endles​:

Jiro was about to protest, when she suddenly left his vision, before slowly realizing, that she finally started to make preparations - finally indeed, at the same time, he hated how she just leaves him here, even if she was just a meter or so away from him. Right now, he does not want to be left alone at all. He would have reached for her, but she was quicker before he could even fully process that thought. 

Somewhat reluctantly, he took the pill in his mouth, grimacing slightly at the odd taste, before the water followed. Raising his hands slightly, holding the cup rather lightly just to manage the flow, he could feel some water trickling down the corner of his lips either way. It felt weirdly soothing, he almost forgot to swallow, till finally gulping down the pill. Almost immediately he would turn his head away, coughing lightly before his body managed to somewhat relax. He really felt like he had lost any energy, barely any tension left unless triggered.  “Everything hurts,”  he would only murmur in response, actually meant as a private thought but he does not even notice that he had voiced it aloud, keeping his eyes on the only person that mattered to him. The gang he belonged to meant nothing to him, they were just a stepping stone, certainly not worth to die for them. 

She was careful, that much he could still tell, nevertheless he felt rather uncomfortable when she traced his features, which should eventually heal to their prior perfection. Despite the mess, at least he had managed to avoid any deeper cuts in his face, everything was mostly swollen and turning in the ugliest colors possible. It was one thing to be a loser, but to be ugly as well, sure would feel like the end of it all. 

He would groan as she settled on his legs, automatically spreading them till she plops down on the floor, sitting between them. While there were no notable wounds, he really could not deal with any too big pressure on his body now, or the possibility of his legs falling asleep. The painkillers would still require a few minutes or longer. Jiro would bite back the pain though, closing his eyes while barring his teeth, a silent hiss escaping him whenever too sensitive areas were touched. He could feel his pants dampen till getting fully soaked. Goosebumps began to appear on his skin, the cold water almost making him shiver, before offering his hands, so she could clean those too and that one nasty cut. When she cleaned his face, he looked somewhat grumpy, he truly felt like a wet dog now and just wanted to get out of his clothing, it was just too cold and heavy. 

His eyes widened upon her lips meeting his own, finally making him recall that one particular memory. Not his fondest one, considering how she had seen him there, failing to be anything worthy and yet she still decided to kiss him, and despite the force, it felt weirdly real for him. Perhaps failing to tell the difference but he really dared to believe it meant something.  “I’ll kill them…”  he whispers as confirmation. 

“Why, … what do you?”  Eyeing her, before whatever was in her hand. Were they still not done? He really just wanted to lay down and not focus on anything.  “…”  Realizing she would not do anything until doing as he was told, he wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. Once the substance met his wounded skin, his fingers dug into her very own, almost yelling before throwing all kind of slurs at her, shaking his head. This felt worse than the actual fight, was she putting acid on him? It sure felt like it. She would not be able to finish, he actually pushed her away. Turning around on his hands and feet, staring at the tiles, which were partially coated with his blood. Deep breaths left him, trying to somehow relax, but he just felt beyond awful.  “Fuck, … why do you have to suck so much at it?!”  he complained, clenching his teeth, while his better hand reached for his stomach. Fuck, he wanted to vomit. … …! He had to!  

Panicking, he crawled towards the toilet, opening the lid just barely before his head went below it, emptying his stomach’s contents. He felt even more dizzy now and not particularly better. 

He should’ve been patient and let her sit to weight him down, would’ve spared the trouble. At least the cold water made the blood flow slower, stripping him from the sleepy haze — he sure thought less sluggish, which was a good sign. Not a good sign in a sense Jiro’s stubbornness kicked in, of course it had to, but Ren was prepared. She’ll endure, chain him if needed; the painkiller should kick in every moment. Maybe it was better to wait, but it’s Sugawara who had no patience, and her — having no heart to torture him in that manner. It’s like pulling a rotten tooth — it’ll be painful, but you have to tear it out quick rather than make it ache for weeks. 

“It’s to sanitise the cut”, she explains. It surprises Ren how absolutely helpless he is — more than a child — not even realising what treating a wound would entail; surprisingly so knowing how much he actually fights. Who would have helped him, if she wasn’t there? If she didn’t have patience to endure his nails ripping her skin, leaving bruises, if the words otherwise sharp she would not tolerate him throwing at her? Ren holds on for his fucking sake, because she has to, because she knows what to do — even when he pushes her away, back painfully hitting on the sink counter — knob right between her shoulder blades. Ren hisses, barely managing not to spill the peroxide completely by pure miracle. 

“At least I have an idea what to do”, her voice is lowly calm, but barely containing the momentary rage before she adds, “unless you want to bleed out”. Ren is about to correct his posture — such deep breaths in that position would make him dizzy and sick in no time, but it’s too late; Jiro storms to the toilet as a sorry sight he is, arching his back painfully before throwing up — echo bouncing from the tiled floor. Now more to her worries, possible dehydration, not to mention Jiro pressed a hand to where she just fucking sanitised. Ren breathes out slowly, having only few moments to decide what to do, before raising up, her sides burning from the scratch Jiro left, so she pours a bit on the ragged skin, placing it next to the sink. The glass of water then is filled once more, but this time to give it to him, with his willingness or not.

“Hey”, she helps him raise his head, “drink, it’ll get better”. Ren wouldn’t call this forcing, rather making sure Jiro has it down his stupid throat to the last drop, before wiping the excess of water and food from the corners of his mouth. Filth never scared her that much, rather seeing him like this gives an odd sense of control over his helpless form, clinging to her like that. Ren lets out a sigh. “Lay down, I’ll help you change later. I need you to be still.”

Ren scoops a bit to the side and in the back, just enough to allow Jiro to lean back, using her lap as a n improvised pillow. “Look up and breathe”, she commands, “If you want this to be over soon”. With him exposed like that and more or less relaxed, Ren has better access to his belly, finally seeing that the blood had more or less stopped. She reached for the kit again, wiping the excess blood before starting to tend to the wounds. Luckily she always stored the after-surgical bandaids ever since her own abdomen was peppered with small scars — covering most of them in a secure manner. They didn’t have any salve for an occasion, good time to buy one then. One of the bigger cuts needed a proper bandage, so that took her some extra time, whereas she believed some pain should have subdued.

“Better?”, Ren dared to ask, as she inspected Jiro’s face and his breath after managing to swathe the bigger piece of bandage around his waist to secure the area. His chest now rising bit steadier, so she dared to brush his cheek a little. It was such a rare sight Ren wished to be in a different circumstance, not her patching him bloodied, but just…at her mercy like that. Calm, content. Having no one else on his mind. “Jiro”, she calls out as collected and sure as possible. “The cut in your shoulder is too deep. I’ll have to stitch it”. Ren searches for his gaze as if confirm that he understands what she is saying — it’ll be quite painful thing to endure, and giving his prior reaction Jiro might need a break before he’s ready. Or maybe he’s a stubborn and “manly” as ever; to the first needle sting that is.

#.ic [/cipher] ⸺ koi.ini #v.-main[/eventtriggers] ⸺ boot.ini #endles

[rakkiikoi]

endles​:

No position felt particularly comfortable on the couch, but neither he found the strength now to move to the side, find out what works best - he does not recall a time, where he felt this tired. How did he even manage to get here? It felt like a wonder now, with how heavy his body felt, he does not even know how the others are doing. With a groan, he tried to reach into his pocket, fumbling his phone out with some difficulty. There were messages, but Jiro stared more at the black display, his reflection. He simply dropped the phone, which landed on the floor, while he closed his eyes, grimacing momentarily as a sudden spark of anger resurfaced. Fuck, he cursed. 

It felt like eternity - what was she doing? He wanted her here.

“Well, it’s not just my blood,”  he still managed to voice, accompanied with a chuckle. His lungs were luckily fine, but his body still felt like a one big bruise. Most blood still belonged to him though, there was no victory for their group on this day. Jiro let out a hiss, when she touched his hand, glaring at her but no other consequence followed. He could bear it, he could …, trying to somehow block out the pain, think of something else, focus on her?  She was quicker with her palm, than he with his eyes, though he managed a smile. He was so happy to see her, he just wanted to rest, indulge in those soft touches - the complete opposite of the prior punches, he had to endure.  “It’s not mine,”  he tried to insist, eyes slightly widening again when he searched for her own. 

At the prospect of going to the bathroom, he would only meagerly shake his head. He did not want to move. Whatever she wanted / needed to do, surely could be done here. She left him no choice, he bit back a yelp, when she yanked him upwards, back onto his feet.  “Ren!”  he cursed, followed by a slur, which was partly muffled by a sudden cough, spitting some blood out.  “Ren…,”  he still complained while leaning onto her, following her steps despite his earlier refusal. Reaching the bathroom, and with that the floor finally, perhaps he would have sighed but instead it was just another groan, the couch had been more comfortable. When he saw her shirt thrown to the side, he looked rather confused up.  “This isn’t really the time, but…”  the thought sure seemed nice, despite his condition, it allowed some momentary distraction. 

Jiro blinked, now he was definitely confused, really failing to follow at this point, which only caused him to grin at her - with the bruises across his face, he never looked more grotesque, his grin turning his features more into a grimace, than whatever he wanted to convey.  “If you insist.”  Yet it never seemed more difficult to undress, which unsettled him. Jiro bit his lip, shaking his head in denial, this was so humiliating. He could only watch as she ripped his shirt open, he even seemed to be shocked himself at the sight of blood on his skin (and no more on the fabric alone)  “Aha-haha…”  No way, no way that body belonged to him. He does not even recall to meet the blade that often, everything happened so fast. 

Meanwhile he let out a hiss, when she seriously thought it was a smart idea to touch him at that one particular cut.  “Fuck, indeed! Stupid!”  he cursed and almost was tempted to cover himself again, denying the severity of the wounds.  “Another gang, starting shit in our turf…”  He did not continue, this was bad… he knew. They should not have gotten the upper hand.  “Just do something finally, or fuck me… I don’t care,”  he hissed. His last moments better be enjoyable, if she cannot be bothered to fix this mess, knowing he demanded quite a lot of her, she was not a professional medic after all. Sadly, then again, he had never intended to lose again in his life. She must have lost any respect for him, he knew. How should he protect her, if he could not even protect himself? It was laughable. 

The frivolous suggestion earns a huff — Ren wouldn’t dare touch Jiro like that, not before he’s treated properly at least, but the reaction shows he’s still awake. Just like she needs him to be. His body looks like a map of cuts and bruises, making her heart clutch painfully — something that she treated with care was vandalised so brutally it makes her teeth grind. 

Ren remembers him beaten up many times back in their teens, bruised, swollen, but unbroken, stubborn, even when his whole body ached; even when the bullies made her kiss him so many years ago. The memory resurfaces like a bright slide — she felt so helpless, scared, angry. The hold on her hair so tight. Jiro’s face… no, his eyes were… Now he could barely concentrate, gaze dull and sleepy. Ren lets out a shaky breath when he curses back at her, the apology flashing in her eyes, or at least she hopes it was visible enough. His flinching apparent makes her reach for the first aid kit finally, getting a half-empty pack of pain killers. Ren rises once more, filling the glass at the edge of the sink with some water, before scrunching back, at his side, gesturing for him to open his mouth.

“You’re not going to die”, she promises softer than she should, makes him swallow the pill and the water, balancing the glass, before placing it to the side. He will not die, he will not abandon her, not here, not now. No other fucker out there, no so called fate has her hands on him — if Ren would need to get him back from the dead, she would. “Here, should ease it”. 

Ren reaches out to get a bit of his messy hair out of his face that seems like a mask at this point, torn, bruised to the point of black; her hands trailing softly to see if his nose is alright, hoping there was no broken teeth or concussion or any other bleeding cuts she wouldn’t be able tot treat — fingers shake just a bit, outing the nervousness. He’s still filthy after the fight and the flight, earth, blood and other grease allover, she couldn’t afford to do anything with his cuts  before blood is cleaned. Ren looks around — dragging him again would be unwise, so she grabs the shower head, pulling it out as much as she could.

“I’ll clean this off first”, Ren announces, sitting atop of his knees for convenience, before letting a sigh. “Don’t wiggle too much or it’ll hurt”. It probably already did, she realises, and curses under her breath, but still turns on the shower. It’ll get messy, they will get wet, but it does not matter at this point, really: she washes the blood from his torso carefully, covering the cuts with her palms when needed so nothing gets into them, slowly, the only hope that the painkiller works urging her to continue. Ren can’t recall when he allowed her to explore his body like that — probably not being too proud of being exposed in such state — but she takes any opportunity, her fingertips finding their way across his wounded skin, offering a bit of soothing with cold running water.

“They will pay”, she utters suddenly, after washing his face, turning the water off; her voice low with threat and affirmation, Ren leans to give a rewarding peck to his swollen lips — just like back then. “You’ll make them”. Yanking hydrogen peroxide from the kit, she pours it generously into some simple sterile cotton wool, before realising it might be stupid to do so. So Ren still locks his legs with her weight, nearing enough with the bottle in one hand, the other cradling the back of his head. 

Eyes lock once more, so she warns him, “Hold onto me, I need you hands out of the way”. Once he complies, she pours a bit onto smaller cuts on his abdomen, watching almost slowed how the liquid starts to bubble and form white foam at the ends of the cut, as she asks him to breathe, already swallowing any obscenity coming from his mouth. They both know it is necessary, and Ren tries to be quick about it so she can finally patch them up and give the attention to his shoulder, where the biggest cut needed to be sutured.

#.ic [/cipher] ⸺ koi.ini #v.-main[/eventtriggers] ⸺ boot.ini #endles

[rakkiikoi]

endles​:

Why must she always take so goddamn long, this was not the time to decide to keep sitting on her damned PC, where else should she possibly be at that time? For once, he really hoped for her to be there, to be at home. His fist banged against the door, he was tired of waiting - just tired in general. He should have gone to their doctor, but the way was too long, and he rather collapses here than in the middle of the street. He would press his forehead against the cold material of the door, it could be almost soothing, if it weren’t making him so restless to be locked out, to be away from her. 

Suddenly the door was opened, holding himself on his feet as his hand shot out to the door-frame, actually managing a smile at her. Why does it feel so familiar, it almost made him forget the burning pain.  “What’s with that look?”  he spoke through swollen lips, reminding him of the all too familiar taste of iron, while trying to look still somewhat passable. 

For a moment, he allowed himself to rest on her, keeping his balance till the door was closed, then he pushed her almost away, hurrying towards the couch, not caring if he would leave any trace on their furniture as he slumped down on it, half stretched out. How good it felt to just lay down, sighing deeply as he could finally relax, keeping his eyes open though, because even here, he does not feel safe.  “Ren,”  he murmurs, trying to urge her to hurry, after all she should know what was to do.  “It’s nothing, but…”  slowly opening his shirt, it felt like forever, before stopping. If she would look closer, there was a clean cut going through his hand. Though more would await her below his shirt, which was partially ripped. 

He had thought those times were over, that no one would be able to touch him anymore, but it was still a long path. That she had to see him like this again, only worsened the feeling of sickness, while staring at her rather absentmindedly. It had been a while, that he had felt this humiliated, and now there was only shame with her becoming another witness of the mess. Would she stay? 

For a second Ren only feels the limpness, only frantic heartbeat indicating that he’s still alive, in her arms, breathing. The emptiness of her mind bursts like a big bang, clicking back like old movie footage, at his form against the frame, the idiotic smile, as if she demands a facade from him. Anger fuels fear, makes her breath shake under the weight of his body, under the so familiar circumstance of somebody out of her reach hurting ones she holds dear. Pulse quickens but only till the moment Sugawara pushes her away to make his way to the couch.

Ren stares at him in silence — it feels almost like rejection and that hurts — the long t-shirt with some silly print now stained with blood, almost sticking to the skin. It sinks in, finally, and Ren rushes back to the door, closing every possible lock; the urge to open and see if there’s a blood trail is too high, but she manages to subdue it. Think, Ren, think. Next come the curtains she makes sure are closed, the light in the living room dimmed, sounds deafened. She has known this, ever since they dragged her father with a bullet in his arm and asked her to mend it, because no one else was around. She was seventeen back then. Not anymore though. She can manage this.

Ren redirects her attention, forcing the panicking to stop, back to Jiro sprawled on the couch — details like the blood and the rips on his shirt finally coming into view as her sight adjusts. Her nostrils flare, god fucking dammit there’s so much bleeding, Ren allows herself to click her tongue at his words as a measure of silence — he cannot be possibly serious — but he calls for her. In a few wide steps she nears, slouching to see the damage done better, shakes her head. “Doesn’t look like nothing to me”, a mumble before she reaches to inspect the cuts, giving his hand a light slap — don’t move too much, you moron.

He should’ve been losing blood constantly — it’s only a matter of time till dizziness kicks in if it didn’t already — and if he’s here and not at some sort of doc — means he can’t go. His face a mess — that’s not something a forced kiss would heal. Ren touches the hem of his shirt cautiously and curses, frowning, looking at how many cuts go there. Nobody taught her to be a medical expert, but even her knowledge tells her she needs a clearer look and something to sterilise those with. 

“Look at me”, she asks, hands cupping his face — the delayed reaction only confirming the suspicion of blood loss. His cheeks feel cold, clammy, sweat from the effort alone visible on the forehead. “Jiro.” Ren brushes her thumbs against the cheekbones to get his concentration back at herself. “Don’t fall asleep. You lost lots of blood.” She allows him to lean into her hand, head heavy,  only to inspect the bruises and other leftovers of a severe fight — that’s what it was to be a mobster. Ren used to be accustomed to that.

“Lets go to the bathroom”, she commands; not only because there are no windows to spot them so she might turn on full light, but also because that’s where the first aid kit is. “I need a better look”. In any other situation he’d probably protest, but Ren yanks his hand, wrapping it around her shoulder, and then forces him to half stand, using her as a support once more, and drags [god he is heavy] to the bathroom, where the only privacy they both get is the glass back on the shower. Lowering him on the floor, Ren takes the stupid t-shirt off, remaining in her bra, at least the hands are free, so she brushes her hair back almost nervously.

“Get it off”, she nods at the bloodied shirt, getting the kit out from under the sink. Jiro is slow — there is something with his hand, Ren huffs and takes matter into her own hands — trying to unbutton the slippery fabric until she has enough, tearing is always easier, too bad she has no cutter at disposal. “Lemme see”, she mumbles, unfolding the remains of the cloth as bloodied flower petals, before the severity of his injuries is apparent.

“Fuck”, she utters, barely touching the edges of the cut at his shoulder to see if it is clean and no nerves were severed before proceeding to slowly and carefully shred the last remains of the upper garment from his wounded body. “Who did that?”

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[rakkiikoi]

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[rakkiikoi]

@endles​

Nothing is more annoying than being disturbed at work: arguably sitting under a kotatsu with her laptop wasn’t exactly work. But wasn’t leisure either as she still exported important data from the hidden camera she left last time — it sure was a bit more boring than YouTube but kept her occupied. Evenings like that — when weather became gradually colder and evenings longer — left her pretty bored as she was alone in the shared flat; slippers and cloth a friendly reminder of another’s presence. 

Sometimes Ren felt domestic enough to clean up or bring some sort of comfort into their space — Jiro didn’t mind what happened in his absence as long as she didn’t get into his stuff, so Ren was to go about in any way she pleased, it was her only pastime for a few months beside jobs anyway. Slowly raising to her feet from the warmth of kotatsu, she made her way back to the kitchen  just few minutes ago, where bothered to wash the dishes — namely ones she used — eyeing her phone with mild irritation. It has been ten missed outgoing calls.

Ren just managed to get warm and comfy again, when she heard the doorbell. Again. Again, until she yelled to come as the buzzing got on her nerves like a hot knife turned right at the center of her brain. She storms to the entrance, ready to badmouth whoever the fuck thought it was a good idea to disturbed her, momentarily forgetting to have a look at a fisheye before opening the door in a rash swingy motion. Words are ready to be spit out, but stop right in the middle of her throat, and it feels suffocating.

Heart skips a bit.

It’s like they are fifteen again, all over, but this time it’s not just a simple black eye. Ren curses under her breath, reaching her hands as a support measure for him to hold onto, head blank of any coherent emotion, as she eyes his beaten form, the white shirt from the morning now wet with blood, which she hopes is someone else’s.

“Get inside, quick”, she whispers, basically dragging him in the safety of their apartment, “…  how… the fuck happened?”

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[rakkiikoi]

mugunghwc​:

     although rejection was rare for daeyun to experience, her answer still brought a sense of relief upon him. it was as if he had been splashed with water, washing his worries away & aiding his muscles to become relaxed. now, it wasn’t just a suggestion that came out of left field, but something that could turn into a reality—something to look forward, perhaps. he tried not to let it get to him, but his excitement was hard to suppress. his grin turning wider, as he gives her a slight shake of her shoulder before turning his head to better face her.

    “we can do that. i mean… it can be our secret.” he said, feeling somewhat childish over the prospect of that: having a secret about something that neither of them should be ashamed of, or had to explain to anyone else. be it her friend, his friends or even his siblings… as long as they had the time, then they could do as they pleased, with no one else getting up in their business.  “i’m no professional, but i like to think i do a decent job.” daeyun confessed, looking the tidbit smug about it. photography was one of those things that helped him take a break from the world in order to admire his surroundings. a moment of peace in which everything momentarily froze in time & he was allowed to breathe. it was a mere hobby, but one that he wouldn’t particularly mind investing more time into.

    his head ducked as he let out a chuckle, just now realizing the way he was coming across. so juvenile. like he was back in high school. “we can keep ‘em to ourselves if you want… i wouldn’t mind having you like that… your pictures, i mean. just…for us.” the more he spoke, the more he felt like he was stumbling around with his words ; offering a shake of his head before he glanced over at his glass, reaching for it to pour some more umeshu. “for a host, i’m sure doing terrible with my conversation skills, aren’t i?”

Ren feels a barely noticeable shift — she’d blame it on being too sober, but it’s her hyperawareness rather, as they are this close, being able to recognise changes in a sea of flashes, loud music and unfamiliar faces. Daeyun feels like a safe bay of sorts, a storm shelter, and she takes the tones in his body language out of childish anxiety to somehow break this tranquil state. He responds with relief and she mirrors, unable to fight back a smile when he grins like that. It feels like being fifteen again, and that’s most bizarre emotion Ren never could’ve expected to experience in a host club.

A small laughter leaves her, being earnestly touched by the way Daeyun words it. Maybe sometimes you need to remember the childish need to have a secret, just the two of you against the world. The notion brought a stinging thought that once — for a short fleeting while — Ren had known how it feels. She raises her hand to place it over his own, right over the shoulder shaken, just a small gesture of reassurance as she curls her fingers, grasping his in affirmation. Eyes hide glint of impishness as she nods, smile growing wider to match his own.

“Then you should definitely give it a try”, admitting truth isn’t that hard right now, “it’s been a while since I had anything but a selfie, so I’ll trust you on this one”. Mentioning this was — [is] — a taboo wasn’t necessary; didn’t they agree to break too many rules already? There was something endearing the way they discussed it, without constant need to prove their professionalism or knowledge — it felt almost as friendly chatter, where both gave another enough leeway.

Daeyun’s speech brings Ren back to her senses, making her once again aware she should not forget the basic rules of security — for both of their sakes — and it takes a moment to exhale in relief, showing being content with what he just proclaimed. “ That would be nice, if you take those pictures they are yours as much as mine… but I am not the most generous person in the world”. Ren pauses, locking prolonged eye contact once more, as if to empathise. “I wouldn’t like for anyone but you to have those.”

Daeyun feels somehow flustered — it is cute to see Ren won’t lie — and somehow it’s weirdly helpful to know not only she feels a bit… she couldn’t even place a word to it. Ren reaches for all the mental pats she could’ve give but they feel too condescending to even say out loud; she watches him pour a bit in his glass and then reaches out physically this time. Just a light brush of her fingers, nothing too demanding, along the line of his jaw so he looks her way a little. 

“What makes you say that?”

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