SNAPSHOT PT.3 GOJO SATORU

darlin' darlin'

mikey x reader, ran x reader

summary - mikey decides it's time to remind ran who's in charge.

cws - sex worker reader, rans gf reader, mikey cucks ran, degradation, praise, i made mikey's cock huge what do you want from me. i don't think this is hurt comfort but there could be a littol angst in that rans not thrilled mikey's fucking his girlfriend and mikey's mean about it. daddy kink, reader sings.

MINORS DNI

Mikey didn’t want to come. He didn’t want to be at another club, he didn’t want to get high, or drunk, he was still hungover from the day before, a dull throbbing at the back of his head as he leans against the bar. He rubs his eyes.

“You can dip soon,” Sanzu offers. “This’ll be a great front for us, all the tips and stuff, s’great way to clean off our money. I give him a lotta shit but Haitani was right.” Mikey massages his temples. 

“What’s that they say about a broken clock?” He orders a whiskey. “That Haitani has to be right sometimes or someone woulda put a bullet through his head by now.” Sanzu snickers. The drink comes seconds later, chilled, with one large ice cube, exactly the brand he likes. The bar is crowded, but not packed, dark wood and red velvet. The brass accents sparkle in the low light, and men in expensive suits lounge in secluded benches. The stage is empty for now, but the floor of it shines, sparkling with expectation. “How does this work again?” Mikey takes another long sip. 

“The girls come out and perform,” Sanzu explains, “They collect tips, but the men have to bid on them blindly if they want to take them home for the night. They write how much they’d spend on a night with her, but they have to guess how much they’d go for, the bids aren’t displayed, and it costs 10,000 yen to bid. Highest bidder pony’s up and takes the girl for the night. All cash.” 

“Huh,” Mikey realizes he’s finished his drink quickly, the whiskey warm in his ribs. “You’re right, this’ll be perfect.” 

“I’m sure Ran had a great time testing them out,” Sanzu smiles wickedly, “He always does.” 

“Actually,” A voice pipes up from behind them, and Haitani Ran strides across the plush carpet over to the bar, “I liked one of ‘em so much I kept her. It finally happened, I’ve been tied down.” 

“Doubt it.” Sanzu’s grin widens. 

“I’m wounded,” Ran touches his heart, “You don’t think I could be happy with just one girl?.” Mikey clears his throat and Ran gives him a little bow. “Whaddya think?” He asks, gesturing to the packed gentlemans club and reluctantly Mikey nods. 

“It’s nice.” He sighs, and leans against the bar. “Looking forward to seeing the girls.” Ran nods. 

“Not to brag but I’ve outdone myself this time.” He orders a drink and it’s in his hands seconds later. 

“So, what?” Sanzu said, “Are we going to meet this girl?” 

“Yeah,” Ran sips his scotch, “She’ll perform, but uh, don’t think anyone’s gonna outbid me.” 

“You’re willing to bet on that?” Sanzu raises his eyebrows. 

“Literally, yes. No one here would cross me.” Ran says, his lavender eyes darkening. “Plus,” he grins, “Think this one might actually tie me down. For real.” 

“I’ve heard that before.” Rindou joins the group, shaking his head at his brother. 

“You’ll know when you see her!” Ran protests, “Bet even Mikey will admit she’s fine as fuck.” Mikey is getting a refill on his whiskey, and shrugs. 

“I’m,” he pauses, “Particular.” 

“As someone who’s spent a fair amount of time acquiring paid company for you,” Ran says, a weak smile on his face, “I know.” He stretches a little, enjoying that he’s a good few inches taller than even the next largest Bonten executive. 

“I like,” Mikey starts to explain, then stops, frowning, “I like nice girls.” He finishes. 

“She’s real nice,” Ran smirks, and Mikey doesn't get a chance to respond, because the lights darken, and the light chatter of the men in the booths subsides a little. The first woman walks onto the stage, in a green satin dress that skims her curves, with eyes that glitter, the pianist begins playing a soft, jazzy song and she opens her mouth, starting to sing. Her voice is low and sensual, and she keeps her eyes mostly closed, punctuating certain phrases by lifting her gaze to the audience, gifting them with her attention. Waitresses in tiny outfits take bids from men in bespoke suits, the smoke from their cigars wafts towards the ceiling. 

“I can’t believe you managed to combine the two things that rich assholes like most,” Rindou grumbles, “Pussy and gambling.” Sanzu nods. Ran leans back on the bar, 

“Even Kokonoi had to admit this was a good idea.” He says, as the first girl finishes her song, and is led off the stage by a waiter, who leads her to the booth with the man who had bid the most money. A pretty waitress with curly blonde hair taps Ran’s shoulder, hands him a note. “She just went for 500,000 yen. Cash.” 

“Don’t forget the other thing rich assholes like,” Rindou offers, “Showing off.” The man who won the first girl makes a show of putting his coat on and leading her upstairs and out of the bar, to the rooms upstairs. A few more women perform, and they’re all talented and beautiful in exactly the way Ran likes, kind smiles, intelligent eyes, something deeper happening behind the surface, the kind of beauty that makes men want to pry their souls open, and unravel their secrets. The kind of beauty that launches ships, that starts wars.

He had a talent, begrudgingly acknowledged among Bonten, for running these kinds of establishments, the same way Kokonoi could sniff out a deal, or Mikey’s natural predisposition to landing on his feet in a fight, he’d balance the right amount of discretion and flash, of propriety and fun. Of course, usually the most beautiful women ended up in his bed, and tonight would be no different, Mikey assumes. He glances at the exit, a few more women, each more talented and beautiful than the next, had taken the stage, and he was getting bored with the exercise. He stares out at the crowd of men, who would occasionally heckle each other and push each other to spend more, and downs his drink, eyes dulling. Is this the legacy Ran was comfortable leaving? He wonders, Ran who talked often and loudly, of his desire to father children, but seemed incapable of even sticking to a regular prostitute. Did he care what he was remembered for? Mikey is so busy studying his subordinate that he almost doesn’t see you walk on stage. 

The first thing Mikey sees is your thigh, a long leg peeking out from a slit that cuts nearly up to your hip, you can’t be wearing panties, is his first thought, you must not be, and his mouth drops open as the rest of you saunters on stage. The dress is low cut, a glistening red velvet, dipping between your perfect breasts, a thin gold chain is around your neck. Your hair is impeccably styled, sweeping around your face, the soft wash of makeup you’ve applied perfectly accentuates your natural, breathtaking beauty. A hush falls over the crowd, and you part your lips. 

“Love,” you start, perfectly on pitch, tone like a whispered bell tone, “I said, real love, is like feeling no fear, in the face of danger.” The music picks up underneath you, and when you open your eyes the energy in the room crackles, deep and dark, shimmering with energy, it’s like you’re staring right through the men in front of you. Mikey closes his mouth, but not before the others notice. None of them speak though, equally transfixed by your song, a modern siren in strappy heels and winged eyeliner. “A touch, from your real love,” you sing, the corner of your mouth twitching into a smile, “Is like heaven takin’ the place of somethin’ evil,” you sway gently, one hand delicately wrapped around the microphone stand. “And I want it,” You catch Mikey’s eyes, he could swear it, “So, much.” Mikey is distracted by Ran waving a waiter over and passing her a note. He realizes, floats back down to earth after his initial infatuation, and is immediately deeply annoyed at the idea of anyone else's hands on your body, anyone else parting your thighs. 

“Told ya she was fine.” Ran mutters, shaking his head at Mikey, who comes to terms with several things very quickly, one, that you weren’t his, two, that you were Ran’s of all people, and three, that unless he acted very quickly, you weren’t going home with him tonight. 

“Darlin, darlin, darlin,” you sing, closing your eyes, clinging to the microphone stand, “I fall to pieces, when I’m with you, I fall to pieces,” your hips are almost hypnotic, the softness of your voice is addicting, “My cherries, and wine, rosemary, and thyme,” and he feels almost paralyzed, stuck watching you, unable to call a waitress over, to tell Ran to hand you over. The song ends and a waiter helps you down from the stage in your heels, leading you to the back of the room, and a chorus of boos from the men as Ran slips his arm around your waist. 

“I pay for it just like you fellas,” He says with a grin, “Simmer down.” They do, after a few good natured jabs. Mikey’s stomach turns as you blink up at Ran, who leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. 

“Angel,” He says, gesturing to the other men. “These are my colleagues and my brother, Mikey, Sanzu, and Rindou.” You extend a manicured hand, your nails are the same deep red as your dress. They each take it, and greet you. “Dinner?” He says to the other men, “Or join me in the back once  you’ve,” he gestures to the stage, “Found some entertainment?” 

“I’ll come now.” Mikey says, unsmiling, sliding off his barstool. 

“There’s nothing you think could tempt you,” Ran teases, grip on your waist tightening, daring Mikey to rip you away, “Nothing at all?” The truth was unspoken between them, Mikey knew what he wanted, and Ran knew it too, knew that the pleasure he was dreaming of was locked between your legs, knew that his only hope of ecstasy was just out of reach. Mikey shrugs. 

“I’m,” he doesn’t look at you, “Particular.” Ran’s lips curl into a smile. 

“That you are, boss.” He leads you and Mikey out of the main room into a private dining area, slightly more well lit, a bit more golden, but in sharper relief you only look more beautiful, Mikey notes, settling on the other side of you at the table. Ran settles a hand on your thigh and orders for you, without asking what you’d want. Mikey follows, quickly and the scantily clad waitress disappears. 

“I find it hard to believe you’re so particular that no one here is your type,” You say to him, when the food starts to arrive, steaming baskets of dumplings opened on the table. “Not even Lara?” 

“Which one was Lara?” He asks, reaching for a dumpling. 

“She was first, in green.” You offer, and he shrugs. 

“I guess,” he says, “I work very hard, and I’m careful about dedicating my time to people who are untested.” You nod sagely. 

“That I can understand.” Sanzu and Rindou stumble in with girls on their arms. 

“Hope you paid,” Ran says, eyes narrowing, “We can’t be ripping ourselves off.” His hand moves up your thigh under the table, Mikey’s stomach turns, but you keep your face neutral, bringing a spoonful of soup to your lips. You lean into Ran’s arm, and Mikey swears he can see a slight blush creep onto the Bonten executive’s cheeks. 

“Excuse me,” you murmur, standing and walking to the bathroom. Mikey takes another big sip of his drink, the alcohol hits him hard, and he can’t tear his eyes from your disappearing figure.

“Listen,” Ran says, cutting in on his thoughts as you round the corner to the restrooms. “She’s a good girl,” Mikey looks at his executive, not catching what he means. “You can have her, for the night.” 

“For the night?” Mikey repeats. 

“I’m seeing her,” Ran says, checking his reflection in a knife. “I can’t say I’ll like it, but if you want her, go ahead. On me.” He glances at the shorter man. “Regrettably, I’m a touch attached.” 

“I can see that.” Mikey says, taking another sip of his drink. “I’ll take her.” Ran nods, and Mikey detects traces of vulnerability in him that he’s never seen before. “And you can watch.” Ran blinks at him. “You heard me.” Mikey deadpans. “You’ll be watching.” 

“I-” 

“This is not a negotiation.” Mikey’s eyes harden, “You don’t tell me that I can have something that belongs to Bonten, I own this place, I own you, and I definitely own her.” He scowls. An unreadable emotion crosses Ran’s face. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Glad we remembered our place.” Mikey stands, intercepting you as you return from the bathroom. “We’re going upstairs.” He says and you give him the gentlest, most polite smile, and a tiny little bow. He slips an arm around your waist, leading you up the stairs. They’re dark wood, and carpeted with a lush red rug, softening the sound of Ran’s footsteps behind you. “Do you have a room?” He asks, and you nod. 

“Yes, sir.” You chirp, your tone still soft and muted, but loud enough to cut through the sounds of the conversation in the restaurant below. You feel his grip on your waist tighten as you reach the top, steadying you in  your heels. You don’t look back at Ran, your heart racing. “This way.” You take them both down to the end of the hallway, and open a heavy, dark wood door. Your room has warm, rich, red walls, and dark furniture. There’s a huge bed, covered with pillows, and sitting next to a light pink armchair is a small wicker basket of what looks like toys. You hold the door for both men, Ran has to duck his head to fit under the door frame. You let it close behind you, standing in  your dress. Mikey walks immediately to the basket, digging through it. 

“Take your shoes off.” He orders, and you’re struck by how soft his voice is. It’s not light, or kind, but naturally soft, almost muffled. You sneak a glance at Ran, who's got his hands shoved in the pockets of his suit. You bend over, undoing the buckle on the top of your strappy heel and then stepping out of it, letting out a soft sigh of relief. You fold even more to get the other one, taking both and setting them next to the bed. Mikey hasn’t turned around, but you realize without your shoes that he’s actually taller than you. Ran is gigantic without your heels, well over six feet tall, and he doesn’t offer you any comfort, doesn’t dare touch you. His face is completely unreadable as Mikey takes the basket and sets it on the floor, striding across the room and handing something to you. They’re a pair of red leather handcuffs, the silver chain glinting in low light. “Put those on him.” Mikey says, and you reach for Ran’s hand, but the blonde clears his throat. “Behind his back.” 

“One sec.” Ran says, and his voice sounds normal, but there’s just a touch of forced brightness to his tone. He slips out of his huge suit jacket, setting it on top of your dresser. He must catch something in your expression, because he gives you a little smile, “Be gentle with me sweetheart,” he teases, and that brings a little smile to your face as you walk softly behind him. Mikey watches the small interaction, jealousy broiling in his stomach. Why Ran, he wondered, why Ran, of all people who you could seem deserving of affection. Vain, lazy, snarky, what the hell did Haitani Ran have that he didn’t? He clears his throat and for the first time, fear flashes on your face. 

“I’m having trouble with the clasp.” You look at him, doe eyed, begging for help and his cock twitches in his pants. 

“Here.” Mikey strides over, closing the cuffs and taking Ran by the arm, sitting him in the silk pink armchair, in full view of the bed. Ran shifts uncomfortably, it’s been a long time since he’d attempted to exist in any way while restrained. Mikey turns his attention to you, reaching out and gently pushing some hair out of your face. “Are you nervous,” he asks, hands coming to rest on your waist, you nod, and you feel his lips on your forehead, your eyes flutter shut. “I’m not gonna let him be upset with you,” he murmurs. “He, like you, belongs to me.” You look up at him sharply, and a little smile flits across his face. “That’s right.” He breathes, “That’s right, you belong to me.” His hand slips down the satin of your dress, and dips between the slit, moving between your thighs, finding you as bare as he’d expected. “Good girl,” he praises, immediately able to feel how wet you are, gathering some arousal on his fingers before dipping two of them inside you, feeling the warmth of your little gasp on his skin. “Shhhh,” he breathes, looking at Ran, who remains impassive, sitting in the chair. “Shhh, baby.” you feel his lips on your cheek as he starts pumping them in and out of you. He nudges your clit out of its hood with his thumb, lips trailing burning kisses down your cheek, to your jaw, to the crook of your neck. “I wanna see you cum for me,” he whispers, “I want to feel it on my fingers, understand?” 

“Mhm,” you whimper, already finding it difficult to keep your thighs from shaking, the pleasure he’s providing is so steady, not building, bringing you to a cliff and leaving you there. 

“You know why I’m prepping you so good,” he says, arm around your waist tightening as your moans rise in pitch, as the sound of him fucking you with his fingers becomes wet and lewd, “Know why, baby?” You shake your head dumbly. 

“No, I,” you shudder, he cuts you off mid sentence by flicking his thumb over your bud, “I, I don’t,” 

“Can’t even speak,” Mikey says, softly reveling in the little victory, “That stupid already, all the words gone from that pretty little head?” You nod, moaning softly, holding his gaze. “That’s it, look at daddy,” he coaches, “Want you to look me in the eyes while you cum for me, understand?” He picks up the pace, forcing any remnants of a response you could have to that back down in your throat. “I’m prepping you,”  he explains, with the patience of a saint as your noises start to sound less like pleas and more like whimpers, “Because you’ve never taken a cock like mine.” Ran shifts uncomfortably in his chair, just as Mikey kisses you, drinking up your soft little sounds. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs right into your lips, “Go ahead, cum for me, I wanna feel it.” 

“Oh,” you manage, the second your lips are free, your orgasm ripping through your body, overwhelming pleasure running through your veins, toes curling as you cling to Mikey for dear life, wrapping your arms around his neck. He holds you up, grunting softly as he lays you down on the bed. He’s drunk on you, drunk on the warmth of your skin, on your sweet, musical sounds, on the way your dress splays out underneath you. He’s nearly forgotten about his subordinate when he hears the chair creek again. He glances at the taller man, half climbed on top of you, one leg between your thighs, hands above your shoulders, when his lips curl into a cruel smile. Ran’s unmistakably hard, a huge tent in his suit pants as he squirms in the chair. A laugh falls from Mikey’s lips before he can stop it, and then he decides he doesn’t care, tapping you lightly on the arm and directing your attention to your boyfriend. 

“He must like you,” Mikey muses, “To still be getting off when he’s not even touching you,” Ran looks away. “Kind of,” Mikey traces a pattern on your bare thigh, “He’s kind of pathetic looking, like this.” You blink up at Mikey, then look over at Ran. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you consider, and both men watch, you let out a soft little sigh. 

“Can I touch him?” You ask, and Mikey considers. 

“No.” He says after a long moment. “If he’s good, maybe I’ll let him eat my cum out of your pussy, hm?” He doesn’t give you time to react, pushing you back down on the mattress with one hand on your clavicle, climbing back on top of you quickly. He yanks his shirt off, throwing it on the floor and not missing the way your eyes rake down his chisled form, he might not be taller than Ran, but fuck he knew he was stronger. He pins your wrists to the bed and kisses you, losing himself in your softness, the way your body curves up to meet his, and fuck, yes, he knows he’s got you when you grind against his clothed thigh. 

“Fuck,” you both hear, and you freeze but Mikey ignores Ran, ignores him muttering under his breath, groaning, “Fuck, I,” you look over at him, and his face is red, he’s writhing against the restraints, desperately attempting to get some friction, some sensation from his cock that’s trapped in his pants. 

“You wanna look at him so badly,” Mikey cautions, ‘I’ll make you stare at him the whole time.” Your eyes widen and you focus back on him. “He’s not here,” Mikey breathes, and you shudder, feeling the warmth of his lips on your neck. “He’s not here, and you don’t belong to him.” He pushes your thighs apart with his legs, reaching up and fumbling with his fly. “You belong,” he sucks in a sharp breath, pressing the head of his cock to your pulsing clit, pulling away so that he could watch you reach to it, this, this was his favorite part. “You belong to me.” He roughly sheaths himself inside you and you keen, it hurts, he’s easily the longest, the thickest cock you’ve ever taken, tears spring to your eyes and he kisses them away, “Shhh, shh,” he says, oozing smugness, “So pretty, such a pretty girl,” he rolls his hips against yours experimentally, still half buried in you. 

“Please,” You beg, “Please, can  you, would you go slow?” He reaches down, cupping your face, 

“Paying attention to me now, huh?” He says, and you nod emphatically. 

“Sorry,”  you choke out, feeling him push a little further inside you, “Yes, yes daddy, I’m,” your eyes roll back in your head, he feels the way you clench around him. “Paying, I’m paying attention.” 

“Good girl,” he says, pushing the last few inches inside you, rubbing at your clit before withdrawing a little and fucking you deep and slow. You feel so full you struggle for breath, hands fisting the soft pink sheets, you feel him wiping away your tears as he picks up the pace just a little. “How does it feel? You feel full?” You nod, whimpering. 

“Feels, feels so good.” you choke out, “But it’s, it’s so much.” 

“I know,” he nods at you, mocking, glancing at Ran, “I know it’s so much, so much for our pretty girl to take huh?” Ran makes some kind of strangled noise in the chair. “Should have gagged you,” Mikey continues, still in the same sweet, soft voice he was speaking to you with, but there’s a darker undercurrent to his tone. “Always running your fuckin’,” he throws his head back with pleasure, “Runnin’ your fuckin’ mouth,” he looks down at you, “You, baby,” he fucks you harder, pulling sharp mewls from your lips, “You’re more than just a pretty face huh, got a fuckin’, fuckin’ incredible pussy,” you moan in response and he chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Whaddya say when daddy gives you a compliment huh?” 

“Th-” you manage and you feel his cock nudge your g-spot for the third time in a row and know he’s found the right angle, the one that makes your toes curl, that arches your back up off the mattress, “Thank you daddy,” you get out the words on the edge of a hushed moan, “I, I’m gonna, if you keep fucking me there I”m gonna-” 

“Greedy,” he taunts, “You wanna cum twice before I do?” He’s losing some of his composure now, you’re sure of it, the feeling of your soft, warm walls clenching around him, but he manages to look at Ran and smirk, “You shoulda taught her better manners.” You don’t dare check on Ran, not again, but the idea of his eyes on your skin, on the way Mikey’s rocking the bedframe with the force of his thrusts makes the coil in your stomach tighten. 

“Jesus christ,” you hear and you catch Ran snap the toy handcuffs like they’re plastic, not bothering to remove them from his wrists before unbuttoning his pants and pulling his cock out with a desperate urgency, “Please,” he begs, in a tone you’ve never heard before, that he’s never used with you, and that’s when you realize that he’s talking to Mikey, “Please don’t stop, fuck,” Ran shudders as he rubs the tip of his cock before fucking, “God, she’s so hot I-” 

“If you cum before I do, Haitani I swear to god,” Mikey snarls, and the tone is so sharp in contrast to how he’s been speaking that you jump, “Oh,” he turns back to you, “Daddy can be mean, yeah, so be good, be good for me.” You nod, and he hooks his arms around your shoulders, plowing you into the mattress, your vision nearly whites out when you feel him bite down hard on the shell of your ear and then growl. “I’m gonna cum inside this pussy, yeah,  you want that,” you whimper in response, “I’m gonna cum inside you,” he groans, “And I want you to cum with me, you ready,” 

“Please,” you cry out, “Please, Daddy, need to-” 

“Shut up,” he grunts, before groaning loudly, just as your orgasm breaks over you like a wave, you feel him cumming inside, feel how hot it is, feel it squirt out around his length, making your thighs sticking, your palms ache with desire, the pleasure rolls through you wave after wave, and you’re not sure how long you endure the sightless free fall, but when you blink back into your body Mikey is lying next to you. You open your eyes just in time to see Ran cum all over his hands, swearing violently. “Shh, shh,” Mikey pushes your face back to his. “Don’t look at him baby, don’t look at him.” You obey, blinking dumbly. You hear Ran stand, imagine he’s grabbing a towel from your bathroom. Mikey tucks you into his chest, rubbing the back of your head. “Are you in pain?” He asks softly, finding that the usual urge to make a hasty exit isn’t bubbling to the surface. You nod. “I thought you might be.” He presses his lips to the top of your head. You hear a loud smack and with a giggle, realize that Ran’s hit his head on the top of the door frame. 

“Jesus fucking christ.” He snaps, wiping his hands. “Are you finished with her, or,” he blurts, glancing towards the door. 

“I’ll let you know when we’re done,” Mikey says, and feels you stiffen against him, but ignores it. “Sit back down.”

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♡ it's VALENTINES DAY, darling ♡

by @seijorhi, @terushimooo and @iwaasfairy ૮( ྀིʃƪ´ ˘ ` ) ྀིა ᶻ z 𐰁 "think you got it bad now? well, it just gets worse, and worse, and worse"

tw dark content, yandere, dubcon, noncon, blood, drugging, murder, forced infidelity

SHIVER

inui seishu ... coming 05/02

TREMBLE

nagi seishiro ... coming 10/02

BREATHER jean kirstein ... coming 15/02

SHAKE

choso ... coming 20/02

SHUDDER

kozume kenma ... coming 25/02

(𝟏) 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

ও rating. explicit

ও summary. you work for an anonymous phone sex business on campus, and you would have never guessed that your first client would be the Atsumu Miya—most popular guy on campus who sits three seats ahead of you in calculus. and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t even know you exist. | wc. tbd.

cw/ tw. college au. nerd!reader, volleyball player Atsumu, phone sex, dirty talk, mild hurt/comfort, miscommunication, fraternity parties, rough sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, strangers to lovers

ও featuring. Atsumu x Fem!Reader 

ও an. okay, i turned my self-indulgent fic into a multi-part fic:) please comment on this post if you’d like to be tagged. NOTE: the Taglist is closed

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Please remember to read all content warnings before proceeding.

Part One—You get your first caller, and can’t tell why he sounds so familiar…until you do.

cw/ tw. phone sex, praise kink, pet names (ex. baby, sweetheart)

Part Two—After weeks of phone calls, you get to know Atsumu which makes pretending a little more difficult.

cw/ tw. sexting, phone sex, praise kink, pet names (ex. sweetheart, pretty girl)

Part Three—Things get even more difficult when Atsumu needs help with his homework before his next game, and who better to help him than the class tutor.

cw/ tw. tba…

Part Four—The truth always finds a way of coming out.

cw/ tw. tba…

Part Five—Atsumu confronts you.

cw/ tw. tba…

© satorini 2022—do not copy, paste, or translate my works anywhere.

this is the only car i can picture ghost in

imagine him fucking you in it

Love Galore

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x f!reader x bokuto koutsro

chapter summary: an introspective view of the story's events from the beginning — through the eyes of Akaashi Keiji

wc: 19.2k+ [jfc i really am so sorry]

a/n: thank you to those that have stuck by me and this story, despite my hiatus. i truly appreciate every single person that's ever read a single word of LG, or left lovely messages/comments, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much. i worked on this chapter, little by little every day, and i promise i never stopped thinking about you guys. i kept thinking it was done, but apparently i had a lot to say haha. this still isn't the end, but please enjoy the chapter, i've worked really hard on it and i hope you like it :) your love and support mean the world to me, xoxo

Masterlist

chapter 14 ✧ souffle pancakes

Akaashi doesn’t say much, but he sees it all. 

It was a habit that he’s had for as long as he could remember, practically born with. Practically second nature, it seems, for him to keep a keen and sharp eye on his surroundings, making mental notes until it’s all piled up and cluttered into his brain. He’s been called many things in his short life. Observant. Perspective. Attentive. Psychic. Genius. Creepy. 

Akaashi prefers to just be called Keiji. 

Most of the time, he thinks it’s a blessing.  

When he was younger, he’d impress all the old ladies in his neighborhood with his mindless comments.

Have you lost weight?

That’s a new jacket isn’t it, oba-san?

Oh, that must be a different perfume you’re wearing today.

Comments that sounded adorable coming from a child, when all the others in his age range could barely notice if they were even wearing matching shoes. 

Sometimes, he’s thankful. It was what got him so far in the sport he loved, after all. His ability to see things others usually just brush to the side — how an opponent grits his teeth and flexes his jaw right before he jumps up for the spike, or the directions their eyes tend to flicker to right before they pass the ball. How the twitch of their lip meant anger and annoyance, or the restless running around the court showing impatience. 

Akaashi sees it all – each bit of information sorted into the compartments in his mind, saving it for when he needs to make his move. This wasn’t something inherent – it was a skill he only learned with time, through trials and errors until his mind became a well-oiled machine. Eventually, it’d become difficult for anyone to escape the sharpness of Akaashi’s eyes, and it’s a skill he’s always used to his own benefit. 

If that player’s angry, it will be easy to bait him. If he’s impatient, then it’s just a matter of time before he makes a mistake. And Akaashi will be right there waiting. 

It was easily applicable outside of the court as well.

In the hallways of school, he’d learned to ignore the giggles and whispers in his wake. Making friends was simple, almost effortless. An off-handed comment about someone’s new haircut, bringing his classmates snacks and drinks as if he had just accidentally bought too much at the convenience store – not a single person thinking twice at the fact that he’d miraculously gotten all their favorites. 

Akaashi was the guy that would notice if you were wearing different nail polish, or if the charms on your backpack were different, would note if you’ve started a new sport or were talking about that new drama just a little bit more often – and he’d say a something that could be compliment, with only a few words at best, but it was enough for you to note that he was paying attention. 

In his second year of junior high, he’d even become quite the hot topic among the girls in his class, because somehow he could always tell who had a crush on who. They’d flock around his desk like vultures, picking at whatever bits and scraps they could get from his carcass until he had no choice but to throw them a bone. 

If you get this bread for Yagi-kun, he’ll really like it. 

Arakawa-san told me he likes girls with short hair. 

Toku-san studies in the library on Wednesdays, you should bring him a drink.

The boys would try to act like they’re not interested in the commotion that always seemed to surround Akaashi. Gossip? That’s for the girls – not something for boys to partake in. But it was only a matter of time before they’d come running to Akaashi for a “psychic reading”, never wanting to admit that all they really wanted was a bit of guidance. 

They’d come running back to him, tittering and snickering whenever his advice would work. Suddenly, he was seen as a genius, a guru – as much as any preteen boy could actually be.

It was easy, really – a person’s body language can often tell you much more than words could ever manage to say, and Akaashi had always been an avid reader. He’d try to tell them as much, try to teach his friends what to look for and where, but alas the ability had still been dubbed a ‘gift’.

But sometimes, it can be a curse. 

For a long while, there were only two kinds of people in Akaashi’s life: those that wanted to use him for his talents, and those that seemed to resent him for it. 

It was actually comical how fast it is for some to turn their backs. Flipping around on him like a switch, taking all the brightness with them and leaving Akaashi alone in the dark. 

He had learned – the hard way – that most people actually quite hated the notion of being perceived. It strikes them with a sense of anxiety that was unfamiliar – not exactly fear, but something akin to uneasiness. The constant feeling of eyes on your back was enough to drive anyone crazy, even more so when you’re meant to be somewhere safe. 

It’s not as if Akaashi was doing it on purpose. Sometimes, he wasn’t even aware he was doing anything at all. He wasn’t watching anyone specifically, but was it his fault if certain things caught his attention? Was it wrong for him to be observant of his surroundings? His classmates were part of his environment, it was only natural for them to be part of his observations as well. It was nothing personal, it was just a habit.

It was difficult to explain as such when a boy from his class called him a stalker for knowing he was in the soccer club, because how else could Akaashi have known? He hardly knew Akaashi. Even though Akaashi pointed out the grass stains on his socks and the pair of cleats peeking out of his bag, the boy still threatened Akaashi to stay far away. 

It was even harder for him to calm the angry girl from two classes over – the one that happened to always eat at the lunch table next to his in the cafeteria. He froze when she stormed up to him, tossing a baby blue hair clip on his table. Steam was billowing out from her eyes, saying she’d only ever spoken a grand total of six words to him, so how the hell does he know her favorite color? Never mind the fact that her earrings, her phone case, her jacket, her thermos, and her bento are all that same color. It was an educated guess, one that was clearly correct if her angry reaction was enough to go by. 

It was frustrating, honestly. Did she even know how pathetic his own classmate looked, sniffing around Akaashi and asking how he should approach the cute girl from class 2-C? Was it really wrong for Akaashi to suggest getting her a hair clip in the same color? What difference did it make whether he figured out random stuff about her or not? 

But the scowl she threw in his direction had almost successfully masked the panic that swept through her eyes. But Akaashi had seen it. 

She was afraid. Of him.

She had called him names then, names he had heard before. Weirdo. Stalker. Creep. Names that never bothered him in the past, but coupled with the look of fright on this girl's face – whose favorite color he knew, but name remained foreign – all of it sounded much harsher than he ever remembered. Especially when she dumped the rest of her milk on the top of his head. 

After that incident, there was a sort of shift in public opinion on Akaashi. The whispers that followed him down the hall no longer mingled with soft giggles and smiles. They were whispers behind narrowed eyes and scowling faces, disapproving frowns upon any lips that would say his name.

Some friends stood by his side, half-heartedly defending him in a way that told him they didn’t actually care – they just wanted to stay on his good side. Nosy busybodies that only shielded him from the wary stares so they could keep asking him for his advice on whether he thought Dairiki-kun like girls with bangs or without.

It was one of the few times Akaashi had really, truly felt pathetic. His life was sitting in the sweaty palms of his peers, and a single wrong move will have him crushed by their grubby little fingers. It was infuriating, suffocating – having to think twice, thrice, four times before Akaashi could even say a single word. 

But they had already decided on the box they would put Akaashi in, and he could do nothing more than sit still. Sit still and ignore the sneers and scowls from people that he used to call friends. Stay quiet when the boys of his class would shove him around the halls calling him freak. Look the other way when he’d come back to his desk and his things were destroyed. Ignore the pang in his chest when he ate his lunches alone in the library. 

At the turn of his adolescence – his first year of high school – Akaashi decided that things needed to change. 

Fukurodani Academy was a different setting – different classes, different halls, different people.

He would be a different Akaashi Keiji. No longer putting himself out there, or offering his observations to anyone who would listen. He would just keep to himself, and not let anyone close enough to contain him again.

Then he met Bokuto Kotaro. 

The boy was simplistic in nature. Kind and bright, with a horde of people that always followed him around wherever he went. Dozens of eyes constantly tracked his every move without fail, and Bokuto happened to be the type of person that thrived in such an environment. Though, despite being interested in the same sport, Akaashi never felt the need to become a part of his entourage. He was exactly the kind of guy Akaashi wanted – needed –  to avoid. 

But some things are simply not up to him. Each morning, he managed to mask the slight surprise on his face each time he walked into the volleyball team’s gym, and found that Bokuto was already there. And had probably been there for who knows how long. When Akaashi joined this team, he fully expected to always be the first to show up, and last to leave the gym each day, just as it was at his previous school. 

Yet, there Bokuto was, every morning without fail, nothing but his grunts and the echoes of the ball spiking on the ground filling the gym. Every morning, he’d greet Akaashi with too much energy, the corners of his lips never dropping despite the fact that Akaashi never responded with anything other than a silent nod. 

For a little while, that was all they had. A silent agreement to work together on the sport they loved, to be a team on the court, and strictly teammates off of it. Nothing more, nothing less. Bokuto continued being his charming self, scoring victories and basking in adoration as he was wont to do. Akaashi stood content to the side, satisfied with the joy of knowing his serves were in the capable hands of such an ace. 

Akaashi should have known that it was only a matter of time until Bokuto would flip everything around. 

They had been alone in the gym for at least an hour at that time, while the rest of Fukurodani Volleyball Club had gone home at an actual reasonable hour. The sun was already slipping past the horizon, taking with it the last tendrils of the day’s light. Bokuto had begged Akaashi to stay a little longer and help with his spikes, as usual. And Akaashi was quick to agree, as usual. 

What was unusual was the way Bokuto kept glancing at Akaashi from the corner of his eye, and Akaashi wanted to laugh at Bokuto’s pathetic excuse of being discreet.

“What is it?” Akaashi asked, uncharacteristically breaking the silence. 

Bokuto jumped, startled that Akaashi noticed him watching. It took a second for Bokuto to gather himself, absentmindedly bouncing the volleyball on the gleaming gym floor, face scrunched in a way that Akaashi had only seen while Bokuto was on the court.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Bokuto opened with those words, bouncing the ball one last time before catching it tightly in his hands. Akaashi’s silence was the only indicator of an agreement, and Bokuto took this as his cue to continue. 

“Why do you hold back?” 

There were many things Akaashi thought Bokuto might have asked. This one wasn’t even really on the list. Akaashi had forgotten what it felt like to be caught so off guard, unable to do anything but stand stupidly as his mind buffered. Bokuto’s pupils moved imperceptibly quickly, raking themselves all over Akaashi. 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Akaashi replied carefully, his shoulders rigid, nervously clasping his hands in front of him.

Bokuto frowned a little deeper, resting the volleyball now between his arm and his hip. “You don’t have to lie, Akaashi. I can tell you’re not… I see how you watch everything, but you always catch yourself before doing anything. It’s like you’re scared or… or – I don’t know! But you are, you’re holding back! I can just tell.”

It took all of Akaashi’s willpower not to let his jaw hang loose, only allowing himself to blink slowly. He dug through his mind, searching through every crevice for any memory of someone being able to read him like this. He went out of his way to be invisible, yet the overly cheerful, happy go lucky, sunshine ace of the volleyball team had somehow managed to still see right through him. 

“So why?” Bokuto prodded again, and his tone could easily be confused as haughty, but Akaashi knew better. Akaashi continues to study Bokuto, the poor boy fidgeting under Akaashi’s frigid stare. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t back away. His weight shifted from one foot to the other, but he still waited for an answer

“It’s a long story,” Akaashi said quietly, turning around to walk towards the volleyball cart. 

He hoped that would be the end of it, that Bokuto would take the hint and leave him alone. But before he could take more than three steps toward the cart, it clattered loudly and rolled away with the momentum of the volleyball that just landed into it from across the gym. 

Akaashi turns back to Bokuto, a single eyebrow raised incredulously at Bokuto’s now empty hands. A corner of Bokuto’s mouth lifts devilishly, and he offers Akaashi nothing but a shrug of his shoulders.

“I’ve got a bit of time,” Bokuto rests his hands on his hips, shifting all his weight onto one leg. Akaashi wanted to laugh, wanted to cry, and wanted to ask Bokuto why he even cared. He was happy with how things were right now, and there was no need for him to do anything drastic. 

Even as the thought passed through his mind, Akaashi could feel no truth behind it. And one look at Bokuto told him that he was not winning this round. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, and heaved out a sigh.

“If I don’t hold myself back, then people tend to get intimidated,” Akaashi offered, and that was as much as he was willing to expand on at this moment. “And when people are scared of you… that’s when you find out how nasty they can actually be.” 

“So what? You’re scared?” Bokuto asked, and Akaashi scoffed because of course he wouldn’t understand. Everyone loved Bokuto, and even those that didn’t still held some sort of respect for him. He was the ace of the volleyball team, and he was the school’s heartthrob. What the hell would he know about being shunned and isolated?

Akaashi opened his mouth to say something snarky, the words burning up his throat and on to the tip of his tongue. Except when his lips parted, it wasn’t his voice that came out.

“If you hold yourself back because of random, faceless people, then aren’t you letting them win?” Bokuto interrupted Akaashi before he could speak, as if he knew that if he let the setter say whatever he was about to say, then the conversation would take a dive into the worst. “I hate losing, Akaashi.”

“What does me losing have anything to do with you?” Akaashi asked.

“Because we’re partners now. I got your back, and if you lose, I lose,” Bokuto smiled this time, and Akaashi’s chest felt a little bit lighter, “Like I said, I hate losing. So don’t make me into a loser, okay? Or it’s gonna be a problem.”

Bokuto brushes past Akaashi as he finishes speaking, hands resting on the back of his head as he walks the distance across the gym and to the volleyball cart. Akaashi’s eyes followed him in awe, a sudden fluttering in his heart and stomach as the ace digs out a new volleyball and bounces it twice onto the hardwood floors.

“We’ve only done eighty serves,” Bokuto changes the topic seamlessly, continuing on as if he hadn’t rendered Akaashi speechless, “We gotta do at least twenty more before Yamiji-san comes back to kick us out.” 

Akaashi felt his feet move, his arms positioning themselves to receive, his body running around the gym until sweat dripped on the floor all around him. But his thoughts were elsewhere, plagued with memories of a past that had apparently silenced him into a pathetic existence. He’d thought this path would be better, make him feel like he belonged.

Maybe for a while, he convinced himself that it did, satisfied with existing as a shadow on the wall. He hadn’t anticipated Fukurodani's golden-eyed Adonis to shatter the illusion with so much ease, Akaashi wonders how he ever fooled himself into believing it in the first place. 

They didn’t say a single word to each other for the rest of their practice. Or on the walk home. Or at morning practice the next day. Bokuto didn’t speak to Akaashi until the middle of their afternoon practice, when Akaashi had received every single one of Konoha’s spikes and gave Bokuto elegant, risky serves that had everyone on the other side of the net scrambling on their feet. 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Bokuto exclaimed while pumping his fist, giving Akaashi a pat on the back that made the setter jerk forward two steps, “Keep that up, Akaashi!”

Akaashi rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his head slightly to the side. That’s when he noticed the thumbs up Bokuto had thrown you from across the court, and the relieved smile you returned as you flipped the numbers on the scoreboard. You and Bokuto held each other’s gazes for a moment longer, and Akaashi felt like he’d eavesdropped on an entire conversation. 

You shivered slightly when Bokuto broke away, as if Akaashi’s icy stare washed over your entire body. Then you turned your head unnaturally quick and met Akaashi’s stare dead on, making him jolt. You offered him a small wave and half a grin, but before he could respond, Bokuto was dragging him back into the game. 

After practice, Akaashi found Bokuto waiting for him by the gates of the school. He flew into an immediate tirade about the bad grade he got on his exam, and how the cafeteria ran out of katsu before he could get there. You showed up in the middle of Bokuro’s story, and the three of you started walking in sync towards the direction of Akaashi’s house, your voice mingling with Bokuto’s as you offered your own tidbits of the day. Akaashi didn’t question how you both knew where he lived, or why he was suddenly flanked by the two chattiest students in Fukurodani. But if Akaashi had known that was how it would all begin, then he might have cherished that moment a little bit more. 

He never really spoke to you during his initial months in the club, which isn’t saying much as he didn’t speak to anyone. You were nice enough – always asked him how he was doing, berating the older ones whenever they’d give him a hard time, giving him reassuring smiles whenever he got scolded for messing up. The perfect example of a manager; your only fault being the nonsensical hearts in your eyes whenever they happened to land on Bokuto. 

You tried to hide it desperately, but there was no hiding the affection in your smiles whenever they were directed toward Bokuto. It was obvious, painfully so, and it bewildered Akaashi that Bokuto still had not noticed. He can at least assume Yukie and Kaori knew, if the worried glances they threw at each other behind your back were of any indication. But if they or anyone else on the team were aware of your feelings, they respected your efforts enough to keep their thoughts to themselves. 

He couldn’t blame you, not in the slightest. Not when Akaashi’s own heart skipped a beat or two during the night of that initial confrontation, and suddenly he himself was enamored by the ace – wanted to give him the best serves, set up the best plays, win him all the games. When Bokuto was on the court, then it was natural law of the universe for Akaashi to use every skill in his arsenal to make sure he shines. Akaashi did not choose for it to be this way, it simply is.

Perhaps that was how it was for you as well, Akaashi thought. Sometimes, the most painful part about love is having no choice, the complete loss of control. Akaashi could see it; the groan after each stolen glance, shaking him off when his hug made your face too hot,  how you would slap your cheeks whenever you caught yourself staring, like a desperate attempt to break yourself out of some wretched spell.

If Akaashi was being honest, he hated seeing you that way. It didn’t take long for you to become someone precious to him, maybe even quicker than it took for Bokuto. Bokuto infuriated Akaashi as easily as he amazed him, each day a toss up on whether he admired him or wanted to strangle him.

But you brought Akaashi comfort, and a sense of understanding he’d never experienced from a friend. Sure, technically it was your job to assist the team, but he could tell that everything you did truly came from your heart. You were kind and selfless, the type of person that would give someone the very shirt off your back but still spit venom at anyone that spoke ill of your friends. 

To have you in his corner, Akaashi couldn’t even begin to explain how much it saved him. He’d been drowning in the middle of an ocean, nearly overpowered by turbulent waves when Bokuto had given him a boat, and you’d given him an oar. As long as he remained with the two of you, then Akaashi thought he could get himself through it all. 

So whenever he would watch you watch Bokuto flex his muscles to the girls cheering in the stands during a game, watch you gripping your clipboard so hard your knuckles turned white, he may feel... a little bit more than annoyed. And whenever Bokuto would then openly flirt with some of those girls after the game, Akaashi could admit that he might even feel a little bit upset.

Because how could he not see the way you look at him, how you smile when he says your name, how you trail after him like a lovesick puppy? At this point, Akaashi’s been friends with the two of you for months, won and lost countless games, gone to training camps, spent more time with each other than with your own families. And the entire time, Akaashi had to work very hard to act like he didn’t notice your feelings. How could Bokuto still be so ignorant? 

It really bothered him a lot more than he cared to admit, and it surprised him. Akaashi never expected to care about you the way he does, but there it was. Maybe it was this comfortable closeness between you that propelled Akaashi to act so boldly, in a way he couldn’t bring himself to in a long time. 

At the end of one of these unsavory games, while Bokuto busied himself with trying to get the number of a cheerleader in the stand, Akaashi scanned the court for a second, stopping only when his eyes landed on you. You were comparing your notes with the coach, and Akaashi waited until you finished speaking and Yamiji-san stalked off to scold someone else before he approached. 

“Keiji! There you are, I wanted to talk to about your receives in the first set, you –”

“Are you ever going to tell him?” Akaashi asked, not even registering what you were saying. You might have been irritated at his interruption if you hadn’t been confused by the seemingly random question he just threw at your face.

“What? Tell who what?” 

“Bokuto,” Akaashi crossed his arms and straightened his back, “Are you ever going to tell him how you feel?”

You blinked at him once, the only indication that you heard what Akaashi said. He stood facing you, and the seconds seemed to stretch as you did nothing but stare back. The cacophony of sounds that usually bounced along the walls of the gym suddenly sounded muffled and dull. Your lips twitched slightly before they spread into a rehearsed grin, your face slipping easily into a mask of casual indifference.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Keiji,” you answered him softly, shaking your head. 

“Come on, Y/N,” Akaashi groaned, “You know exactly –”

“No, I really don’t,” you said almost pleadingly, your eyes darting around the gym, a mixture of sadness and relief in them when you see Bokuto still showing off to the girls that descended from the bleachers. You look back at Akaashi, brows furrowed as you said, “I don’t know what would make you even think that. Bokuto’s my best friend – that’s it. God, Akaashi, you should really be careful about what you say. If someone heard you, they might have gotten the wrong idea.”

You shot him another hard look – almost a glare, and one that he could read very well, that told him you knew he knew you were lying, that said please, just play along – before you made an excuse of gathering up all the other players for the bus back to school. 

Akaashi’s feet felt stuck to the ground, an achingly familiar helplessness sluicing through him as you walked away. He couldn’t even bring himself to move until Bokuto threw an arm around his shoulder to drag him out, finally done with his flirting and ready to go home. 

You were already seated on the bus when Bokuto and Akaashi finally deigned to board. The seat beside you was occupied by a chattering Yukie, who refused to move despite Bokuto’s complaints of always being the one that sits next to you. You laughed sheepishly and yelled claims of ‘manager bonding’ and doing everything you could to avoid meeting Akaashi’s eye. 

That was the tone of your relationship for the next few weeks. An awkward tension that no one else seemed to notice but you and him. You didn’t treat him any differently – you still greeted him with a smile, walked home together everyday, still messed with him during practice. You still asked him about his day, and told him about yours and Akaashi almost could have convinced himself that nothing was wrong. 

But everything you did started to feel like an act. Disingenuous, like a robot following a set program. You stopped sitting next to Bokuto at lunch, started walking to classes with your other friends instead. Your eyes started flicking to Akaashi whenever you felt you laughed too loudly at Bokuto’s jokes, and you latched yourself to the other players, throwing everyone off kilter. 

You were going out of your way to prove a point that only Akaashi could understand, and even when Bokuto himself had pointed out your strange behavior, you simply brushed him off. There was a sense of insecurity that Akaashi knew he instilled in your actions, and it brought a twinge of regret that he never wanted to feel when it came to you. 

Akaashi had been pouring over how to remedy the situation for days when an olive branch came in the form of Bokuto’s new girlfriend. 

She was a girl from another school, and he met her after one of their games. She came over to their side of the court and congratulated Bokuto for thoroughly defeating her team. She was very pretty and he liked her smile, so Bokuto had asked her out, and she was very quick to say yes. She was waiting for him one day after practicing, standing patiently at the entrance gates with a bag of homemade cookies in her hand. 

Bokuto was so excited as he ran out of the gym to meet her, sparing one minute to ask Akaashi to let you know where he’d gone. Akaashi supposed it was a little comforting to know that Bokuto genuinely cared about you, even if it was encased with his own selfishness. 

Akaashi waited until the rest of the volleyball club had emptied the gym before he made his way into the equipment room. He could hear your sniffling before he even opened the door, his heart slowly crumbling when he walked in on you crouched behind the volleyball cart. 

You sat on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. Your forehead rested against your knees, and your quiet sobs filled the tiny room. You didn’t bother to look up as Akaashi approached, and fought his own tears as your shoulders shook with every breath. 

He kneeled in front of you quietly, silently debating with himself before he placed a tender hand on your shoulder. You continued to cry, taking uneven, shaky breaths. You didn’t move from your position, and Akaashi briefly wondered if you’d even registered his presence. 

“Did he leave?” You asked suddenly, voice thick and hoarse.

“Yes,” Akaashi answered. 

Slowly, you lifted your head to face him. Your eyes were puffed and swollen, eyes rimmed with red and cheeks stained with tears. Snot dribbled down your nose disgracefully, and there was a sorry attempt on your part to wipe away the evidence of your heartbreak. The sleeves you’d worn your heart on were now soaked with salty tears, and you couldn’t control the tremble of your lips. 

Akaashi didn’t know what else to do other than wrap his arms around you. The position was awkward and he’s pretty sure he’d actually never hugged you before. He felt you stiffen for a second, almost making him pull back. But then you buried your face into the crook of his neck and cried. Akaashi could feel his shirt begin to soak, but he pulled you tighter against him. 

He had no idea how long he held you for, but he stayed there in that smelly old equipment room and he held you until his knees ached and you had no more tears left to give. 

Neither of you spoke once you were done, giving him a sad smile as you pulled away. He didn’t offer one back, but he helped you up to your feet and kept an arm around your shoulder as you both walked out silently. Akaashi knew there was nothing he could say to soothe the pain, and you didn’t look like you wanted to say a single word about it anyway. 

He simply walked home with you as usual, taking the long way around to ensure you both end up walking by your favorite takoyaki stand. He spent the money he was saving in his wallet for a rainy day, and bought you all the food you could eat. He had even gotten your favorite popsicle from the convenience store by your house, and though you still remained silent, he was happy to see you eat everything he gave you. 

By the time Akaashi dropped you off at your front door, the tears were long gone and the moon was high in the sky. You turned to Akaashi, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tried to find the words. Akaashi smiled to himself, and reached out to pat his hand lightly on the top of your head.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, hoping you’d believe him. The lonely smile you gave him tells him you don’t, but you hug each other one last time anyway before saying your goodbyes.

Akaashi remembered the first time you and Bokuto successfully broke through his brick walls. Broke might have been too gentle of a word for it though – smashed through might be better. It was at the start of his second season with Fukurodani, and he was still riding the high of an amazing first year. He was ready for an even better year, ready to try out his new skills at the first practice match Yamiji-san had arranged with a school the team had never played with before. 

Then a familiar voice called his name from the other side of the court. A few familiar faces from a life he was desperate to forget peered at him through the net, chuckling and laughing and asking him where the hell he’s been for the past year? Akaashi froze – completely and pathetically froze. It was only after six missed serves and accidentally smacking Bokuto in the back of the head with a ball did Yamiji-san finally tire of his antics and benched him for the rest of the game. 

Akaashi ran to the locker rooms as soon as practice was over. He didn’t acknowledge his old classmates, didn’t even pretend to be polite or engage in empty pleasantries. Instead, he hid in one of the shower stalls until the rest of the team left and he was absolutely sure there would be no one left to see him leave. 

But when he exited the stall, there you were. Standing next to Bokuto in a locker room he was absolutely sure you weren’t allowed to be in, with your hands on your hip and brows etched in concern. The two of you cornered him, and barricaded him until he fessed up about what the hell just happened on that court. Akaashi was a resilient man, but even he could do nothing against you two. 

So he told you everything – from his ‘guru’ days to the milk dumping incident to the isolation and bullying – everything. He didn’t stop speaking for what felt like hours, but neither you nor Bokuto interrupted him once, allowing him to regurgitate everything he’d been holding in for years. 

When he was done, he wasn’t sure what he expected. Pity, or sympathy or something like that. But, no. Instead, when he looked at the faces of his two best friends, all he saw was anger. Clenched fists, tight jaws, fire burning in eyes – anger. And it made him happy. Whatever happened in his past didn’t matter, because here, he had two people who were willing to get angry on his behalf. 

He thought he couldn’t get any closer to you than he was at that moment. But he was wrong.

Walking away from your doorstep, Akaashi knew the bond between the two of you was solidified after this – having already seen each other at your worst, taking turns being each other’s salvation. You become more than his friend, you were his sister. Sister in pain, sister in darkness, sister in light. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you, and you for him. 

Thinking back, the sobbing was probably a bit of an overreaction. A little dramatic considering Bokuto had broken up with that girl not even three weeks later. He was crying and moaning about it for about ten minutes until you promised to take him to his favorite yakiniku spot, and he never thought about that girl again. 

Things would go back to normal for a little while – the three of you acting as reckless teenagers do when they had free reign over the streets of Tokyo. Sitting in cafes sharing one drink for four hours, getting scolded by the coach for staying in the gym too long, laughing and arguing over the most ridiculous reasons that Bokuto turned emo. 

Until Bokuto meets his next girlfriend. Then your heart breaks into a million pieces, and Akaashi tries to hold you together. Then Bokuto breaks up with his girlfriend, and comes running back with crocodile tears in his eyes. You’d catch him again with open arms, and things are alright for a little while until the ugly cycle starts over again. 

Akaashi tried not to let himself wonder why you allowed yourself to accept this – allow Bokuto to put you through it over and over again. He told himself that he didn’t really care, it wasn’t any of his business. Whether you told Bokuto your true feelings or not was your prerogative, and Akaashi wouldn’t do anything but respect your decisions. Even if the decision seemed borderline masochistic. 

Akaashi is forced to simply brush off his irritation at his best friend, because Bokuto was so painfully unaware of what he’d been doing. And if Bokuto was too stupid to see what was right in front of his eyes, then Akaashi was not interested in being the one to enlighten him. 

Ultimately, Akaashi does what he does best – keep his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself. He would listen to every single complaint Bokuto would have about his girlfriends, but he never dared offer his own opinions. He allowed you to drag him to whatever random activity would keep your mind off your own issues, but he never outwardly acknowledged the hurt you always tried to hide. 

And as horrible it is to say, the girls never lasted very long. A month, maybe two at the most. Hardly enough time for Akaashi to memorize any names, as cruel as that sounded. Soon enough, they would complain about his training schedule, or whine about how he hangs out with his friends a bit too much, and that was all it took for Bokuto to cut it off. Bokuto’s priorities always remained the same, and that at least was something Akaashi happily gave him credit for. 

By the time college rolled around, you had even started dating. No one else had ever successfully managed to ensnare your attention for more than five minutes, but Akaashi appreciated seeing you try. Though he admits it was rather amusing to see Bokuto so fervently talk shit about any person you had even a remote interest in, and maybe a little bit more than satisfying to see Bokuto finally be the one on the other side. 

Bokuto, surprisingly, never actually brought any of his girlfriends around. He talked about them, and on occasion, he would invite them to some of his games, but that was it. It was odd, because Bokuto had always struck Akaashi as the type that wanted his partner cheering for him at every opportunity they could get, and would want to hear their voice screaming his name from the stands. But on the rare occasion he actually allowed any of them to come watch him, Bokuto was quick to usher them out of the gym before anyone could even introduce themselves.

It bewildered Akaashi to no end. Was it because he was ashamed?Akaashi’s met at least two girlfriends, and Bokuto’s gone on double dates with Konoha and Washio. Was he hiding his girlfriends from you?

Did he finally get a taste of his own medicine when he saw you kiss that guy in your psych class? Was Bokuto trying to spare you the pain? Akaashi didn’t really want to think of the implications if that statement were true. 

Well, out of sight, out of mind was a set up that worked for him very well.

And more importantly, it worked well enough for you. Worked for Bokuto as well, apparently. He didn’t want to see any of your flings, and you were better off not seeing any of his. A nauseating song and dance that only the two of you knew the steps for. Neither of you were willing to be each other's partner, satisfied to let the opportunity suspend in the air between you, yet never reaching out to take it. 

But hey, if you’re fine with it, then Akaashi could work with this. He could live with this.

That was until Hikari came along. 

Akaashi was honestly a little surprised – Hikari wasn’t typically the type of woman that Bokuto would tangle himself with. That wasn’t to say anything about her looks, or her personality – she was very much Bokuto’s type. But she had already been an essential part of at least one aspect of his life before they started dating, and it was unusual for Bokuto to allow a relationship to transpire with someone so close – the manager of his team, at that. Bokuto always dated outside the proximity of his circle; someone that went to another school, or one that he met at the gym, or sat next to him in one of his classes. 

Never anyone too close. Never anyone that would matter if he lost them. 

But apparently, Hikari was a woman on a mission. Akaashi knew it from the first time he met her, could see it in the wolfish gleam in her eyes as she watched Bokuto from across the room.

He was a little taken aback, but not all that shocked when you came home from that party, practically giving him a heart attack when you burst through the front door and stormed directly to the couch. You didn’t spare him a glance before you face planted onto the cushions, buried your face into the decorative pillows he’d spent two hours picking, and let out the most ungodly scream he’d ever heard. 

You didn’t have to tell him what happened; Akaashi could easily guess. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he still asked slowly, afraid any sudden movements might cause you to lunge. 

“I wish I knew,” your voice was muffled, not bothering to lift your head from the pillow. 

A nagging voice in his head told him he should have stayed at that party, to be your emotional support at the very least if nothing else. He mentally kicked himself, glaring at the laptop he sat in front of, and the blinking document of his unfinished part in the group project he was meant to present to his group mates in the morning. As if the assignment was responsible for his failure. 

You’d be safe if he left, he reasoned with himself. The volleyball team was full of idiots, but they were all good guys. Besides, Bokuto was there and there wasn’t a single chance in hell anything bad would happen to you while he was around. And if Bokuto was too drunk, then Kuroo at least would make sure you all got home safely.  He’d even set himself up on the dining room table so he could see you walk through the front door with his own two eyes. 

Because he had fully expected you to walk through those doors with Bokuto in tow like you’ve done dozens of times, and the fact that you arrived in the dead of night alone was enough to make Akaashi’s blood pressure rise. 

He stood from his chair and walked the few short steps to the fridge. He opened the freezer door, pushing through packets of frozen meat until he found the cream puff flavored ice cream that you had to special order online. He grabs the pint and two spoons before he makes his way to the couch. 

You didn’t move when he pushed your leg to the side, sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. You didn’t move when he nudged your calves with his knuckles and asked you to sit up before you suffocated. So he just leaned back, tossing the lid of the ice cream pint onto the coffee table before digging in. 

It’d been two bites of ice cream and one minute later when you slowly maneuver yourself to sit up. Akaashi tried to pretend not to notice you, but it was impossible when you snatched the extra spoon and the entire pint out of his hand in one fluid motion.

“Jesus, watch out for my fingers,” he mumbled, smirking at the glare you shot his way. But you only held the fake contempt until the first spoon of your favorite dessert hit your lips – then you were sighing and leaning your head against Akaashi’s shoulder.

He patted a hand on your knee, reaching over for a scoop of ice cream and chuckling when you blocked his spoon with yours. You tried to hide the ice cream from him, but his arms were long, and he easily snatched the pint back. 

“Hey!” you cried out, and Akaashi quickly conceded before you really took out a finger. 

“How’d you get home?” Akaashi asked, lifting his feet to rest them on the coffee table and leaning his head against yours.

“Kuroo walked me home,” you replied quietly.

“Good.”

Neither of you said another word as you let the quiet of the evening envelope you, not a single sound save for the occasional clashing of spoons when you both reached for another bite. He could feel you slowly ease beside him, the tension in your body melting away with each passing minute.

When the ice cream was finished, the empty pint decorated your table, along with two spoons haphazardly tossed, surrounded by splotches of melted cream that was sure to be a pain to clean. Your breathing was steady, and the time on the clock read ‘Akaashi is going to be exhausted in the morning’. 

He didn’t care, though. You hadn’t moved or spoken in a while now, and Akaashi was convinced you were already asleep. He already prepared himself to spend the night on the couch, your head on his shoulder and his body twisted in a way that was sure to make his back ache the next day. 

He was just seconds away from giving into sleep’s lovely tug when you broke the silence. 

“I saw him with…” you said, fiddling with the hem of your shirt and clearing your throat, “It was Hikari.”

Akaashi sighed, reaching a hand up to pat your head. 

“Are you okay?” he asked again, a pitiful question that he’s repeated to you countless times.

He waited for your usual answer – vehement denial that anything could be possibly wrong, an airy dismissal of his concerns, and a change in conversation so effortless, it almost makes Akaashi forget what he was saying to you in the first place.

This time, though – this time, a weighted silence followed his question, and you looped an arm around his, hugging him firmly.

“Not really,” you admitted softly. 

It was the first time Akaashi had ever heard you confess your heartache. It was always something that was unspoken, and seeing your crumpled face made Akaashi regret ever keeping things that way. He turned fully to wrap himself around you gently, and you gave yourself to his embrace. He’d only heard a sniffle or two, but he could feel the moisture slowly seeping into his t-shirt. It was a feeling that was achingly familiar. 

“Come on, now. Didn’t we say crying over boys was… I think your words were ‘so fucking embarrassing’,” Akaashi mumbled into your hair, smiling when he felt you chuckle against him. His stomach turned at the inadequacy of his words, but he had no idea what else to offer, so he simply offered himself. “I’m here for you, okay? Always.”

You pulled back for a moment to give him a watery smile. Akaashi wiped at your tear stained cheeks.

“Literally, your snot is dripping down to your mouth, and it’s disgusting.” 

Your laughter warmed Akaashi’s cheeks, smacking him on the shoulder before you stood up. You said nothing else as you stalked off into the darkness of your bedroom, not bothering to turn on any lights before shutting the door. 

A myriad of emotions swirled through Akaashi as he remained seated on the couch. Was there more that he could have said? Could have done? If he had stayed at the party, would he have been able to stop this from happening? Was it even any of his business to stop it? 

But Akaashi knows himself, and knows he would have said nothing if he saw Bokuto sneak away with Hikari. He would have done nothing except perhaps usher you to the other side of the house, using whatever means to keep you distracted. Even if he was there, all he could have done was spare you the knowledge of it – at least for one night. 

He couldn’t help but feel as if he failed you then – to be a good friend, a brother. Or maybe he’s failed you for years. You’d never see it that way, could never even fathom the notion of his failure, and somehow that thought bothers Akaashi more. 

Akaashi stood up and stalked to his own room. He shut the door and collapsed onto his bed, hatred pumping from his heart through his veins as he drifted off to sleep. 

It was that lingering hate he could still feel churning in his gut when he awoke the next morning that spurred him out of bed and scurrying into the living room. He had every intention of starting the day as a new man – one who didn’t allow his cowardice consume him, didn’t place the comfort of his wellbeing over the needs of those he loved. 

Those were the thoughts that ran through his mind, but his momentum halted instantly when he rounded the corner of the hallway, and saw you standing in the genkan. You looked like you had just rolled out of bed yourself, eyes swollen and still wearing the clothes from last night. Your hand rested on the doorknob, the front door wide open.

You turned to him as he approached, and gave him an almost pleading look. Akaashi only had to wonder why you were distressed for two seconds before Bokuto barrelled through the doorway, way too loudly and looking much too bright for the hour. 

Akaashi has seen this dance before. He’s seen it so many times, the sequence of it already playing out in his mind like a familiar melody. Bokuto comes in with a plan that sounded equal parts ridiculous and exhausting, dragging you out without even asking. Akkashi scoffed as you tried and failed to ward off Bokuto with pathetic excuses, but as usual he was having none of it. And both you and Akaashi knew better than to think you could win against Bokuto Kotaro. 

He stood aside while you flurried around the apartment like a blizzard storm, fighting the frown at how Bokuto stood in the foyer with his hands on his hips, a satisfied and smug look on his face. Bokuto turned to Akaashi as if he’d just noticed him for the first time, slapping him on the shoulder before asking, “Akaashi! Why do I feel like I didn’t even see you at all last night?”

It was an effort not to lift a hand and smack Bokuto in the back of the head right then and there. But thankfully, you came rushing out of your bedroom, hastily grabbing a pair of shoes from the genkan. You shot him one last apologetic glance, and you were out the door before he could even bid you goodbye. 

And there he stood – alone in the foyer of his own apartment, feeling like nothing more than a fly on the wall. 

A glance at the clock was the only thing that could have set him in motion, already running ten minutes later than he wanted to start his day. From the tornado named Bokuto that just passed, and the flurry in which Akaashi himself now dashed around, it seemed the apartment was destined to be chaotic. 

He was impatiently tapping his fingers on the kitchen counter, glaring at his coffee machine as if his sheer will would somehow make the brew drip faster, when there was another knock on the door. 

The day was already filled with chaos, but apparently also surprises, because the last person he expected to see on the other side of the threshold was Kuroo Tetsuro. 

The two boys blinked at each other for a second, Kuroo looking just as confused as Akaashi as to why he came to visit in the first place. Kuroo shifted his weight from one foot to the other with his hands tucked in his front pockets, offered Akaashi a nervous smile and a lukewarm attempt at small talk before finally asking if you were still asleep inside. 

Akaashi sighed as he delivered the unfortunate news that not only were you already awake, but were currently being dragged no doubt halfway across the city by none other than Kuroo’s very own roommate. 

“Do you guys not communicate or something,” Akaashi asked blandly, and Kuroo just shrugged.

“He wasn’t there when I got home last night, and he wasn’t there when I woke up this morning. What do you want from me?” 

Akaashi rolled his eyes, but he still widened the door for Kuroo to slip through, who only smiled at him sheepishly as he entered the apartment. Akaashi asked if he wanted some coffee, and Kuroo graciously accepted, slipping back into the easy, laid-back attitude that he’d always been known to wear. 

Content to leave Kuroo to his own devices, Akaashi darted back into his room to quickly change. When he emerged eight minutes later, fully clothed and his backpack dangling from his shoulder, Kuroo was filling up his thermos with coffee while Akaashi’s already sat waiting for him at the counter. 

Akaashi nodded his head in thanks, Kuroo handing him his cup as the two walked out of the apartment in tandem. He didn't say anything when Kuroo remained in step with him, chattering about his classes as they embarked on the twenty minute walk to campus. Didn’t even consider that it was a weekend, and Kuroo likely didn’t even have to head in this direction so early at all. 

Kuroo stayed with Akaashi as far as the library entrance, the latter almost entering the building before he finally had the frame of mind to wonder, “Wait, so why’d you stop by the apartment today?” Akaashi looked over his shoulder and adjusted his bag a bit higher, “Sorry, I was too distracted by… everything. Did you need something?”

Kuroo chuckled almost guiltily, a crooked smile on his lips. He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at Akaashi as if he was debating whether he wanted to tell him the truth. 

“Oh, ha,” Kuroo breathed out, shaking his head slightly, “No, I was just – I mean, y/n looked pretty out of it last night. And I was about to,” Kuroo cleared his throat and adjusted his shirt, “I was heading to that cafe – you know, the one in front of that seven eleven? – and I thought I’d check in to see if she was alive.”

Akaashi’s eyes softened in understanding, pressing his lips into a thin line and nodding his head once as he turned to face Kuroo fully and offered him half a smile.

“Thanks for taking her home last night, by the way,” said Akaashi, “She’s lucky you were still at the party.”

Kuroo let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. He takes a strap of his own backpack off his shoulder and flips it to the front, holding it against his chest as he hastily pulls open the zipper.

“Yeah, it was just good timing,” Kuroo replied while he continued to dig through his backpack. He eventually pulls out a few red packets and hands them to Akaashi, “Here. It’s red ginseng. I’m not sure how long you’re planning to be here, but it should help you get through the day.” 

Akaashi examined the red packets in his hand, almost pouting with appreciation to Kuroo. But when he lifted his head, Kuroo was already walking across the courtyard.

“Make sure to give one of those to y/n when you see her!” He yelled over his shoulder, waving at Akaashi one last time before taking off. 

Akaashi did eat the red ginseng, and it did help him get through the seven hours he had spent in the library that day. And he never thought twice about Kuroo’s impromptu visit to his apartment that morning, nor did he think twice about being escorted to the library despite the cafe Kuroo mentioned being on the complete opposite side of campus. 

Because that was just Kuroo – Akaashi had never known him to be any other way. The very definition of all bark no bite, the kind of man that would tease you relentlessly for a stain on your pants, then take you to a store to buy you a new pair. 

Though Kuroo may have been closer to Bokuto, Akaashi had a tremendous amount of respect for the man, and would probably even go so far as to say Kuroo was also one of his closest friends. 

And when Hikari started to prove herself a new fixture, and Bokuto’s absence became more frequent, Akaashi was appreciative of Kuroo’s steady presence – still showing up to the study sessions, and coming over to watch volleyball games on Akaashi’s “much nicer TV”, and grabbing hot ramen and a cold beer after a particularly stressful test. 

He was acting as the Kuroo Tetsuro he’d always been, and it was that semblance of normalcy that Kuroo effortlessly provided, without anyone asking him to, nor any expectations from anyone else – like a lighthouse in the middle of a raging storm, Akaashi knows it was Kuroo that brought them safely to harbor. 

Because Akaashi was waiting for it. Ever since that day you had come home from your outing with Bokuto, dragging your feet through the door, looking like someone had just ripped the world out from beneath your feet, he had been waiting. For the other shoe to drop, for the inevitable descent into madness - at least your version of it. 

He felt prepared for it in a way, felt ready. He was no longer going to pretend to believe your fake smiles and reassurances that you were fine while you locked yourself in your room days at a time, and he wasn’t going to let you throw yourself so hard into your studies that you forget to eat. 

Akaashi felt things would be different this time around. He’d make sure of it. So he waited for the moment your mask would fall, and prepared himself to catch the pieces.

But the moment never came. 

Don’t misunderstand. It’s not as if Akaashi wanted to see you have a mental breakdown for the eighth time in as many years, and he certainly didn’t want to watch you retreat into a shell of yourself as you attempt to reconcile your new reality with your broken fantasies. 

Akaashi can see it in your face sometimes, even though you try your hardest to hide it. The exhaustion beneath your red-rimmed eyes, the very slight downturn of your lips when you thought no one was paying attention, and the tiredness in your slumped shoulders, as if you’ve been carrying a mountain on your shoulders. 

Still, you always made sure to take care of everybody, and you did it for so long. Akaashi didn’t want to admit to being part of the guilty party, but he had just been as willing to take everything you gave, and believed when you said you needed nothing in return. 

It was shameful, and a little bit more than selfish, but a small part of him wanted this chance. To prove himself a worthy friend, that he could take care of the people that mattered to him the most. He almost hated himself for it, for using your suffering as an opening, but he wanted to make up for all the lost opportunities, for the pain his silence might have caused. 

It was his turn to take care of you, and he was ready to do a damn good job.

Except, you were fine. 

He was thankful, if not a little thrown off by the lack of a depressive episode. But thankful, nonetheless. 

More than thankful, though, he was curious. Bokuto was becoming increasingly absent, flaking on plans and ignoring phone calls. Akaashi had never seen him be so serious about a girl, and even he was feeling annoyed about being left in the proverbial dust. Akaashi had imagined you’d be a little more… upset.

He hadn’t noticed any particular changes. Your routine hardly deviated, aside from the occasional dinners or drinks at the bar with him and Kuroo – if you were not in class you were at work, if you weren’t at work you were home, and if you weren’t home you were in class. For a short while, Akaashi felt like he had been living with a ghost, just going through the motions until the sun set and rose again for the new day. 

Sometimes, though, he’d find you on the balcony, sitting on the matching chairs Bokuto’s sisters bought for you when the two of you had first moved in. A mug of coffee or tea would be in your hands, the liquid looking as if it had long gone cold. You wouldn’t acknowledge Akaashi whenever he’d step outside to join you. Say nothing as he sits in the vacant seat beside you, staring only out into the blinking lights of the city. 

When you were this way, Akaashi knew better than to try and bother you to speak. Your mind was eons away, in a world where Akaashi had never been and would never get to see. So he settled himself to sit beside you silently, until you were ready to climb back down from wherever you wandered off to.   

But even those days became few and far in between. 

It was something that confused him, like he’d been following a trail of crumbs laid before him, yet had no idea where it would lead him to. 

That was, until he walked up to Study room 201 for the usual Tuesday evening session. On a normal day he would simply barge into the room without a thought as to who was already in there or if they were in the middle of anything important. But there was a tug in his chest that halted him in front of the narrow, rectangular window cut-out of the sliding door. He was still as he peeked through the glass, and something clicked so loudly in his brain, his eardrums nearly burst. 

Because Study Room 201 was already a mess of textbooks and papers, prohibited snacks and drinks littered the conference table, and Kuroo Tetsuro was sitting next to you. 

You were leaning over as you read something on his laptop screen, and Kuroo slightly leaned back to give you some room. Your eyes were roving over the screen quickly, faster than any normal person should be reading. Then you frowned at something, your finger pointing at certain spots as you explained his mistakes. 

It seemed like you were ripping into Kuroo’s essay or project or whatever it was he was having you read over, your mouth running off into a seemingly endless tangent of all the things he could have done differently. If it was Akaashi in that situation, his head would probably feel so hot from how irritating your voice surely would have sounded in his ears. He might have shoved you away altogether. 

Yet, there was Kuroo Tetsuro, sitting in the seat Akaashi had only ever seen one other person sit in, staring at you as he tried but failed desperately to hide the smile on his face. You turned just as Kuroo’s smile bubbled into a chuckle, and you smacked your pen so hard on his head, Akaashi was afraid he might start bleeding. 

Kuroo’s chuckle turned into complete laughter, loud and obnoxious and infectious, it was only a matter of seconds until you dissolved into a fit of giggles yourself. 

Neither of you paid him much attention when Akaashi finally decided to open the door. In fact, it seemed as if you hadn’t noticed him at all, despite nearly slamming the door in his haste to enter. Akaashi settled into the seat across from you, as he’s always done, and a small part of him wondered if Kuroo might move back into his usual seat beside him now that Akaashi has entered the picture.

He didn’t. He simply smiled at Akaashi and asked him if he’d like a turn to criticize his work. Of course, Akaashi agreed and thoroughly enjoyed tearing down Kuroo’s perfectly good thesis if only because it made both of you laugh. 

Akaashi felt incredibly stupid for not seeing it before, and now that he has, he doesn’t understand how he could have possibly missed it. He stared at the man beside you now, sneaking grapes onto your laptop to get you to eat and wordlessly walking down the hall to fill your water bottle and filling in the seat Akaashi never braved to fill, and the revelations pour over him like a waterfall, loud and rumbling and serene all at once. 

He’s glad it was Kuroo. 

It was a little painful, though. Not a heartbreak, nor a pang of jealousy, but there was an ache that took hold in his body all the same. And he hated that selfish part of him that was hurt – wishing it was him that could have helped you heal.

But it wasn’t him, and he’s glad it was Kuroo. 

Whatever sort of pain or shame or guilt that he was torturing himself with was quickly eased away by the sound of your muffled laughter through the apartment walls during late night phone calls, the color that was beginning to return to your cheeks, and the light that had finally returned in your eyes.

In those following months, you stopped locking yourself in your room, stopped losing yourself in the city lights on that cold, empty balcony. And more than once has Akaashi come home to find you and Kuroo splayed across the living room, either giggling over something playing on the TV screen with beer cans littered across his coffee table, or sitting beside each other in comfortable silence while you both worked or studied.

One way or another, Akaashi would get roped into whatever it was you were doing with Kuroo. And he’ll complain, berate you two for wasting his time on nonsense and tomfoolery, but it was those moments that provided him with a sharp clarity, like he finally has all the pieces he needed for this puzzle. 

Akaashi may have been just a man on the outside looking in, but the picture that Kuroo had built with you – for you – was more beautiful and warm than Akaashi had ever thought to imagine. And whether you realized it or not, you now went about your days with a permanent smile on your lips and a lightness in the air about you that Akaashi had not felt in years. 

It had filled him with something he didn’t even know he had been missing, as if his lungs were finally taking their first gulp of air after so long underwater. The brightness you started to exude felt as warm and refreshing as summer’s first rays of sun, and Akaashi finally lets himself relax. 

Because Kuroo – that son of a bitch, Akaashi could kiss him in the mouth – he had taken the pieces of you that were scattered across the dirty floor, and he’s put together every single shard until you were nearly whole again. He had breathed an entirely new life into you, a mosaic of all the things you thought you couldn’t handle, brought back to make you stronger. You were almost unrecognizable. 

But people don’t change so easily, and some habits are ingrained into your bones. Akaashi could already see the beginnings of it. The self-doubt, the fear, overthinking your every word and action. Often, Akaashi felt as if he could hear your thoughts from across the room, his throat constricting as they wrapped around him like a noose. 

He didn’t want things to be the same, he told himself. Things were going to be different this time. He’d said it like a mantra over and over again, and now was the time for him to put his money where his mouth was. 

And one day, Akaashi was in the kitchen making his usual cup of coffee, you came bouncing – no, literally, you were bouncing – out of your room with just about the goofiest smile he’d ever seen on your face, and it was all the push he needed to step over the line.

He allowed himself that bit of courage, something he’d spent years shoving to the back of his mind, smothered by his own hands.

“Excited for your date?”

“It’s not a date!”

“Would it be so bad if it was?I mean look at you, you’re smiling like an idiot.” 

For one, glorious, precious second, Akaashi thought that things would finally work out. The gears started spinning your head, and even though you glared at him, Akaashi could already see a sparkle in your eye, and a hint of smile you tried to hide.

“You know what, Keiji, I’m getting sick of you –”

And it only took three knocks for everything to come toppling down. 

The not-so-serendipitous entrance of Bokuto Koutaro was usually accepted with open arms, and an exasperated sigh that wasn’t actually exasperated but a little excited to see what he’s got planned for the day.

But that day, the sight of his streaked hair made Akaashi’s stomach drop to the floor, and hearing the way he spoke to you only made Akaashi see red. 

He almost didn’t register the slam of his front door, the blood roaring in his ears too loudly for him to hear your heated exchange. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel sorry for his best friend, pouting like a child whose favorite toy was just ripped from his hand. 

Akaashi knew, deep down somewhere in a dusty corner of his heart, that Bokuto didn’t mean any harm. He might have even thought he came here with the best of intentions, that maybe he was trying to be a good friend. And maybe that’s what irritates Akaashi even more, the complete lack of self-awareness, and the obliviousness to those around him – perfectly content with staying inside his own Bokuto-powered bubble. 

Irritated, yes. Still, Akaashi couldn’t bring himself to be truly vexed. Not when Bokuto looked just as confused and distraught. Akaashi didn't know what he was thinking, or perhaps he wasn’t even thinking at all, but he couldn’t stop himself. But the worst part of it was, he didn’t want to. Because you were finally letting yourself be happy, and he wasn’t going to let Bokuto ruin it. 

“She’s finally moving on. You shouldn’t do anything to mess that up.”

“Just leave it alone, Bokuto-san. Before anyone gets hurt.”

By the time he was finished, the flames of anger Akaashi felt just moments prior had completely died, and he was left with nothing but a taste of smoke and ash on his tongue. He spoke the words a lot more calmly than he felt, a familiar sense of sympathy creeping over his heart yet again.

Because the look on Bokuto’s face was one Akaashi had seen before, but never on him. A mix of shock and confusion, topped off with a hint of anguish and regret. It looked sad enough on you, but on Bokuto, it was heartbreaking.

So he truly didn’t know. Akaashi’s not sure if it made him feel better or worse. He just knew he was finished with this game, and although he couldn’t really understand the gravity of what he’d just done, he didn’t regret it. When Bokuto silently nodded and left his apartment, he felt only relief.

There was an eerie calm that settled in the wake of Bokuto’s departure. You came back from your date-not-date with Kuroo in infinitely better spirits than when you left, back to skipping around the apartment while humming a tune only you could hear, and the morning’s debacle was already long forgotten. 

Kuroo, unsurprisingly, became quite determined to attach himself to your hip, with a new sense of comfort and a different sort of tension that Akaashi didn’t feel like addressing. It seemed the encounter with Bokuto had added fuel to more than one fire, and if Kuroo was trying to hide his feelings before, he wasn’t bothering to do so now. Akaashi’s caught the way Kuroo looks at you more than once, and it’s even given him butterflies more than he cared to admit. 

Bokuto eventually apologized, and he’d even started bringing Hikari around more. She really was a sweet girl, clearly putting in the effort to get to know Bokuto’s friends. She even desperately tried to ignore Bokuto’s longing looks at a certain blossoming couple, and Akaashi wished he had the capacity to care just a little bit more about the poor girl Bokuto dragged into the tangled web of his heart. 

Alas, he was too busy preparing for the storm.

Akaashi had always been an overthinker. It’s in his nature, something inherent in him that he could never shake no matter how hard he tried. Or it could be the result of his younger days hiding behind his fear, maybe it was something he never actually got over. Akaashi doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he knows much of anything these days. 

His useless mind was only searching for ways he could have prevented this. If he pushed you about your feelings earlier, would you have ended up with Bokuto instead of Kuroo? Would it have been the two of you laughing and dancing, pouring honey in each others’ ear in a crowded room like no one was watching? 

If not for Akaashi, would Bokuto have ever even realized you were in love with him? Were it not for him, would it have eaten away at Bokuto’s very heart until he attacked his own best friend? Akaashi should have kept his mouth shut. If he did, then maybe you might have actually allowed yourself to enjoy being with Kuroo, to let him romance you in the way he’s been aching to do, to let yourself fall in the way you’ve been afraid to for so long. 

And if he did, then maybe he wouldn’t have found Bokuto’s white-knuckled fists gripping Kuroo’s shirt in the middle of a stunned crowd, drenched in sticky alcohol and hair in disarray while you were crying in the corner. Hikari wouldn’t have been sobbing in the back of a dirty taxi, fighting the bile rising in her throat from the betrayal of the one meant to love her most.

He wouldn’t have had to drag you home, too stunned into silence to fight him. He was thankful for that, because he knows that if you had seen the look on Kuroo’s face as everyone he loved left him soaked, eyes stinging, and alone… Akaashi would have deserved that punch you’d throw in his face. 

There were a plethora of things he wished he said, things he could have done. They played through his mind like an endless reel of maybes and what ifs and would haves over and over again as if determined to drive him insane.

He’s not sure what to do now. He’s not sure if he should even do anything. He was tired, he hadn't eaten in at least twenty seven hours, and when he looked in the mirror that morning, he cringed at the deep purple color that encircled his eyes. 

The coffee maker beeped loudly, and Akaashi mindlessly grabbed his mug from the cabinet. His eyes were unfocused, relying on his muscle memory to grab the oat milk creamer from the fridge and mixing in his preferred amount of sugar. 

The morning was calm, a stark contrast from the evening before, and Akaashi’s been awake for a lot longer than he’d care to admit. He stirred his spoon in circles, watching the whorls of milk blend into inky water. This was his fourth cup. Four times he’s brewed a fresh pot, hoping to have one ready for you once you step out of your room. Four times the coffee had turned cold, and he watched it swirl against the steel of his sink as he poured it down the drain. Four times he’s walked to the counter to brew a fresh pot again. 

He winced when he took a sip, coffee burning his tongue, like one last insult to his injuries. By now, he’s already used up more than half the bag of coffee beans you brought home from work just the other day. He hated being wasteful. He hated drinking more than one cup before he could even eat his breakfast. He hated waiting for you alone with nothing but the sugar granules littering his dining table to keep him company. 

He hated the silence in his apartment. He hated the 53 missed calls on his phone from Kuroo and Bokuto. He hated that he was the one who sent Bokuto into a downward spiral. He hated every single face that did nothing but gawked with their phones out while two men – who had never so much as raised their voices at each other  – looked like they were two seconds away from ripping each other's throat out.  

He hated everything.

But he would still do it all over again. Let the fire he had unknowingly started burn their slate clean. If it means peace, if it means freedom from the cage they built around themselves… then he’d do it all over again, for his friends. 

And once it grows cold, Akaashi will brew another pitcher of coffee. He will make himself another cup. 

And he will sit in this chair, and he will wait until he sees you walking out that door. 

The sun was nearing its peak when you finally woke up. 

You cursed yourself for forgetting to draw all your curtains last night, and you squinted against the harsh rays of sun now beating down on your face.

It was an effort to open your eyes. There was crust lining your waterline, stinging your lashes when you tried to flutter them open. Your lids still felt heavy and swollen, and you barely won the battle of keeping them open. 

Your head was throbbing, so loudly that it was the only thing you could hear. You dig into your temples with the heel of your palm, groaning as you positioned yourself to sit up. You run your hands along the rumpled sheets until your fingers hit something hard. You dig through a little more, closing your eyes and bracing yourself as you grab your phone. 

Dead. Only a black screen stared back, no matter how many times you pressed the buttons. You tossed the phone back on the mattress just as you flopped yourself back down, the both of you landing on the sheets like a useless brick.

You should probably charge the damn thing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb the morning’s peace just yet. You doubt you’d find another moment of it the second you get out of this bed. 

Instead, you bury your fingers into your own hair, twisting your body around until your face is buried in your pillow, and you fight the urge to scream into it, too worried that the extra strain might actually cause you to hurl your guts out.  

Not yet. 

You burrowed even deeper into your sheets, wrapping the blankets around yourself until you were nothing more than a cocoon of self-preservation. Because you weren’t ready to face it. The betrayal you were unknowingly the center of, the years of friendship that was splintered in a matter of seconds, the broken hearts of the people you cherished the most. You weren’t ready to face any of it. Not yet.

As if the cowardly admission was some sort of key, memories began to flood through wide open gates in your head, soaking you all over again with sticky alcohol and salty tears. You tried to push it back, tried to cover yourself, like holding an umbrella in a hurricane. But the waves of memory overpowered you, knocking you off your feet each time you remembered Kuroo’s wide-eyed, vacant look as he watched Akaashi haul you away. 

Kuroo. 

Tetsuro.

Even a mere whisper of his name still sends shocks through your nerves, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. The thought of him consumed you so easily, so wholly, like he was a blanket of calm that smothered all your raging thoughts until there was only him. Everything about him made you so dizzy, light headed and out of breath.

Every time you hear his voice, so rich and creamy, it coats all over you like something luxurious on your skin. Forcing yourself to pretend that you’re not breathing in his scent whenever he’s near, pretend that cedar and smoke and warm amber don’t haunt your dreams – it was a tremendous effort on your part to keep yourself sane, to keep yourself from free-falling into the rabbit hole that was Kuroo Tetsuro. 

But last night… You could have dreamt all you wanted about what it would be like to have him look at you with shaky breaths and dilated pupils and ask if he could kiss you, and it still wouldn’t have amounted to anything close to actually having him in front of you. It made you want to laugh almost as much as it made you want to cry, because of course Kuroo Tetsuro could make reality surpass fantasy. 

You wished the memories could have stopped there, that your night ended with the only kiss that has ever made you feel like you were in the clouds.

But fate was almost as cruel as life. 

It was difficult to explain how it felt, for everything to finally click into place while also spiraling into confusion. 

You understood with painful clarity why Hikari hated you, why she acted like you were a pebble in her shoe, and looked at you as if your very existence was an eyesore. You remembered that fight with Bokuto, and the tension that never went away even after the two of you reconciled – all the times Bokuto’s mood would plummet at the mere mention Kuroo, each time you ignored the frustrated glances he threw towards the both of you, hoping you were simply imagining things.

Because what reason could Bokuto possibly have to act that way? You thought about it over and over, and could never come up with an adequate conclusion. 

Now, your willful ignorance has finally come to pay its retribution, a sort of cosmic joke that you were sure some powers above found absolutely hilarious – because Bokuto Kotaro was in love with you. In love. With you. Has been, apparently, for … you didn’t even want to think of how long, couldn’t comprehend the implication of his confession.

A confession that you vividly remember praying for, words that your heart has longed for and ached to hear. Cried for in the silent void of your bedroom, hoped for in your fractured soul, because for so long, you waited, even just for a sliver for a chance for Bokuto to actually see you as more than a friend, more than just the overbearing manager who followed him to college. 

It almost kills you to know that he was waiting for the same thing. 

For a moment, you envisioned it. The life you could have had with Bokuto – walking around campus tucked beneath his arm, registering for classes that fit each other’s schedule, wearing his jersey when you watch his games. Maybe you would have joined the team as a manager, and there wouldn’t have been a second you wouldn’t spend together. Bokuto probably wouldn’t have even waited for the first year to end before convincing you to move in with him. The apartment would have been small, but he wouldn’t ever miss a single dinner together. 

Every morning, you’d wake up to an empty bedroom, but by the time you prepared two steaming mugs of coffee, Bokuto would have already returned from his morning run. He’d kiss you and embrace you, and you’d get ready for the day together, leave your home together, and come home together.

Grief is peppered through every thought like weeds, mourning for the time lost and each memory that never happened. It would have been a beautiful life together. It would have been filled with love, laughter, and happiness so bright, just imagining it made your eyes burn. 

The smell of fresh coffee permeated through the musty, stale air of your bedroom. You could almost see the trail of the scent wafting through the open seams of your door, snaking through the smog until it wrapped around you like a warm embrace. It beckoned you like a familiar friend, so enticing that it actually spurred you to sit back up. 

Suddenly, you felt your stomach grumble and the dryness in your mouth felt like ash, as if the smell of arabica beans was that first fallen domino that had all your issues tumbling into each other. You ignored the rush of nausea churning in your stomach that had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol you drank last night, and swung your legs over the side of your bed, feet absently shuffling against the wooden floor until they found your slippers. 

You stifled a groan as you stood, and dragged your feet across the room slowly. You snatched the thin robe you kept hung over your computer chair, and wrapped it tightly around your body, taking a deep breath as you closed your fingers around the door knob and twisted it open. 

You nearly choked on the wave of aroma that rushed at you so fast, you might have thought you were stepping into an actual roastery instead of your own living room. You half expected to see Akaashi standing over a heated pan, vigorously stirring beans until they turned brown – or however the hell one would roast coffee, you seriously had no idea. 

Instead, you found him standing in front of the coffee maker you bought for him two Christmases ago, hands on his hips and foot tapping on the floor. The machine was bubbling and hissing as the coffee dripped slowly into the pot, and the counter was an abhorrent mess that you’ve quite literally never seen Akaashi make in the entire time you’ve lived with him. 

“Did you open up some sort of… cafe in our apartment that I wasn’t aware of,” You tried to keep your voice light and playful, but the words scratched at your throat, and they came out sounding tired and rough.

Akaashi could have broken his neck with the speed he turned around, shooting an arm out to catch himself on the counter when his momentum threatened to hurtle his body too far. He regarded you with wide, tired eyes, coffee staining his shirt in four different places, and you had a strange feeling that if you reached up and tried to run your fingers through his hair, you would find a bird’s egg nestled somewhere deep within. He looked – and you were putting this nicely – like absolute shit. 

You tried to smile, and his gaze immediately softened, lips coming together into a tight line. And you regretted any previous thoughts you might have had about the malnourished vibe he was putting down., because the pathetic way he looked at you definitely said that you looked about a million times worse. 

“I thought I’d give it a try,” he said softly, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter, “It can’t be that hard, can it? Especially with an experienced barista in the vicinity.”

You clicked your tongue, and gave Akaashi a mocking glare, “You wouldn’t be able to afford my skills and services.”

Akaashi brought a finger up to his lip in faux-thought, and you felt your heart flutter when he opened his arms wide, “I can pay with warm, comforting, and gentle embraces?”

You shook your head, and your slippers slapped against the wooden floor as you hurriedly made your way across the room and crashed into Akaashi’s arms.

“Can’t you be normal and just call it a hug?” Your voice was muffled against his chest, “Who the hell calls it an embrace these days?”

He pulled you against him even tighter, “Literary geniuses, that’s who.”

A chuckle softly escaped from your lips and vibrated against Akaashi’s chest, and it felt like a tether had been snapped. Even more giggles tumbled out, and the fact that Akaashi was not laughing somehow made it even more funnier – made what funnier, you actually had no idea, though at this point you could hear how unhinged your laughter actually sounded. But you couldn’t hold it back, and you laughed until your belly ached, and tears formed on the corners of your eyes. 

You laughed until the laughter felt like acid burning up your throat, and the tightness of it made it difficult to breathe. The tears that pooled in your eyes now flowed freely down your cheeks, and there was no stopping it then, not when you choked out a sob, clutched at the fabric of Akaashi’s shirt and cried. While Akaashi rested one hand on the back of your head, and stroked small circles around your back with the other, you wept and you cried. Cried and cried and cried. 

Whatever restraint you’d been keeping against your heart was undone by the strength of Akaashi’s arms around you, and knowing that he was there to hold you together… it was enough to have you falling apart.

You don’t know how long the two of you stood in that kitchen for. It could have been a few minutes. It could have been a few hours. Akaashi didn’t falter, didn’t move a single inch. Through each shuddering sob, every heaving gasp for air, Akaashi had stayed. He waited until the shaking subsided, and your breathing evened out, and there was not a single tear left to cry. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you peeled yourself away from his embrace, wiping your entire face with the sleeve of your robe. You backed another step, and Akaashi met your swollen, red eyes with his own sunken, tired ones. He tried to smile at you, and tried extremely hard to seem like he wasn’t uncomfortable in his soaked shirt.

“Go change out of that thing,” you said by way of apology, cringing at the mess you’d left behind, “Please.”

For a second, you thought Akaashi might have argued with you. But then his eyes switched from you to the hallway then back again, before he nodded and darted to the direction of his bedroom. You breathed out a laugh and walked to the counter, grabbing a towel from beside the sink and wiping away the coffee grounds that dirtied your usually-immaculate kitchen. 

You were sweeping up the stray flecks that littered the floor when Akaashi came barrelling back into the kitchen. Before he said a single word, he snatched the broom violently from your hand.

“Hey, I was –”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, not when Akaashi practically shoves you into a seat at the dining table. 

“Stay,” he pointed a finger at you, and you quickly swallowed back the snarky comment you were prepared to throw out. Your eyes just silently followed Akaashi as he fussed around the kitchen, mopping the rest of the floor and shaking his head at you when he realized you’d already cleaned the counters. 

He grabbed your favorite mug – drying on the dish rack like it had just been washed after use – then turned to make you a cup of coffee. But when he touched the top of his fingers to the glass body of the pitcher, he frowned. Deeply. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“The coffee got cold again,” he grumbled, making you shoot out of your seat and scramble towards him when he yanked the decanter off the hot plate and headed to the sink.

“Stop!” you practically screeched, just barely making it in time to grip his wrist before he could fully pour the contents down the drain. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Akaashi just stared. “It’s cold now.”

“So?!” you looked at him like the roles have now been completely reversed, “We can just microwave it or something. You don’t need to throw the whole thing out.” You tried to pry the pitcher out of Akaashi’s hand, but he clutched on tightly.

“I wanted you to have fresh coffee,” he said simply, and you gaped. You looked at him for a second longer before your eyes flick back to the counter that you just cleaned up, and realization washed over you like a gentle shower. 

“Did you –” you paused for a second, unsure of how you were going to deal with this situation, “Have you been making a new pot of coffee each time it went cold?” 

Akaashi opened his mouth as if to speak, but quickly clamped his lips down to press them into a thin line. You managed to grab the pitcher from Akaashi with no resistance, and rushed to place it back into its proper place on the machine. In your peripherals, you could see a crinkled bag, folded in half and tucked in a corner behind the coffee maker. 

“Is that…” you mumbled to yourself before quickly snatching the nearly empty bag from its hiding place, “Keiji!”

He winced slightly when you presented him with the evidence, coffee beans flying astray when you shake the bag in Akaashi’s face.

“I just got this bag, Keiji!” you groaned, lamenting the gallons of your favorite roast undoubtedly swirling through the drainpipes of Tokyo by now. You peeked into the bag, frowning when you saw that only about a fourth of the bag had been saved, “Now I have to wait until next month for the cafe to give me a free one.”

“I wanted you to have –”

“Fresh coffee. I got it,”  you sighed, placing two hands on each of Akaashi’s shoulders. Again, he showed no resistance when  you pushed him backwards and sat him on your empty chair. He opened his mouth to argue when you grabbed two mugs and poured in the cold coffee, but the glare you shot him was enough to make him shut it. You ignored his searing gaze as it trailed after your every movement, ignored it burning holes in your back while you microwaved the two mugs of coffee, ignored the burn in your throat at the pathetic way he watched you place one mug in front of him, and held the other as you took the empty seat across from him.

You gestured silently to the mug of coffee.

“Drink,” you ordered, and the word made Akaashi instantly grab the handle, “There’s only room for one mental breakdown in this apartment at a time. And I call dibs for today, okay?”

Akaashi couldn’t stop the laughter that broke free, and you couldn’t help but smile at the exasperated way he shook his head. When the two of you lifted your mugs, your eyes met for just a moment, and the smile you shared with your best friend might have been enough to heal your heart. 

Then, you took a sip of the coffee, and the moment the dark liquid hit your tongue, you had to fight the cringe, and pretend that the way he burnt this batch didn’t break your heart all over again.

“That’s…” you begin, searching for the words. You coughed instead of finishing your sentence.

Akaashi simply sighed. He reached a hand in his pocket, and pulled out his phone.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching him slowly slide his fingers up and down the screen. 

He gives you a pointed look. “What’s it look like? I’m getting breakfast delivered.”

The sun looked just about ready to set by the time you and Akaashi decided to settle down. Empty take out boxes were piled in the proper compartments of the trash bin, and neither of you have bothered to clean up the crumbs all over the table. 

Breakfast had passed by silently, the both of you just content to be in each other’s presence, still sniffling as you shoved entire forkfuls of souffle pancakes from your favorite bakery. You shrieked with delight when you recognized the logo on the bag Akaashi retrieved from the delivery man. You didn’t even scold him for the insane delivery fee he probably had to pay for them to bring it all the way here. 

You just crushed him in a tight hug and accepted his kindness with a kiss on the cheek. He sighed in the way you imagined an older brother would about his annoying little sister, despite you being an entire year older. It made you chuckle, especially when he let you break his very strict “no eating in the living room” rule. 

If Akaashi had any questions or concerns about the events that transpired last night, he mercifully kept them all to himself. After breakfast, he dug out the kotatsu blanket from the storage closet, and – after screeching to Akaashi that he was banned from making any beverages for at least a month – you brewed some of his favorite green tea.

You laid under that kotatsu with Akaashi for hours, sipping on tea that had long turned lukewarm, talking about things that were of neither importance or relevance. You wasted away the entire day, it seemed, if the setting sun and ombre skies out the windows were of any indication. 

Akaashi sat across from you, his back leaning against the foot of the couch. The kotatsu blanket reached up to his waist, and his head lolled lazily to the side as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone. You’d long thrown propriety out the window, though it never is in the room when you’re with Akaashi. You managed to snuggle yourself completely under the kotatsu table, the blanket skirt covering your body while using your seat cushion as a pillow. 

Akaashi had gone through tremendous effort to make this day feel as casual as last week’s Sunday morning. You had a niggling feeling that if you let him, then Akaashi would be very content in keeping you inside this bubble of safety and comfort that he’s curated specifically for you. He’d keep the problems that were waiting past these four walls at bay for as long as he possibly could. This, you knew without a shred of doubt. 

It was a kindness that you held closely to your heart. One that you knew was the type of kindness that didn’t boast, but wrapped itself around you gently and held you against its chest. The longer you looked at Akaashi, rubbing his finger against his nose and eyes glued to the screen, the more your heart swelled with that affection he generously poured into your cup. 

And you knew that because he’s loved you enough to create this bubble, you had to love him enough to pop yourself both out of it. 

“Keiji,” your voice felt hoarse from the silence, the words scratching at your throat, “Was I really that blind?”

Akaashi stilled almost imperceptibly, if you hadn’t known him for years, you probably would have missed it. He clicks the button on the side of his phone, and he gently places the black device on the table. He shuffles to move his seat cushion from beneath him and tosses it to the side, settling himself beneath the blanket before laying down to face you. 

“You weren’t blind, y/n.”

He said it so gently, probably worried that if he spoke any louder, then you would shatter. It softens your heart as much as it sends a spike of irritation through you.

“Dumb, then? Oblivious? Stupid? Naive? Either way you spin it, it still comes down to my faults, my…” your voice cracks, the traitorous thing, and you stopped to clear your throat, “What word would you use, then, Keiji?”

“Young. Afraid. Hurt,” He says with a lot more force and clarity than you expected, each word striking directly into your heart, “A whole lot of other words before stupid, actually. An entire dictionary’s worth.”

You wanted to wipe that look off his face, really. Eyes misting his usual blue to a foggy gray, and failing to stop his wretched mouth from quivering. How many more people in your life were you going to hurt? You felt pathetic.

You stay silent for a moment before starting, “Bokuto… he must have also been in a lot of pain,” you sighed, turning to supine and training your eyes to the popcorned ceiling, “Everything’s so… fucked up. And it’s all because of me and my stupid ignorance and –”

“Please, stop saying that,” Akaashi groaned loudly, balling a fist into his own hair. 

Exasperation floods through you like a tidal wave, it crashes through you viciously and your body shoots itself up into a sitting position before you could even think. You couldn’t hold back the glare at Akaashi before asking him with a bite, “Well, what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” Akaashi answers with a growl, maneuvering himself up to face you, his fists landing helplessly on the table, “but please, stop saying stuff like that, not when–” Akaashi sighed, bring two fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I knew about everything for… a long time.”

You shrugged carelessly as you replied, “Well, yeah. I know I never actually told you, but I thought you figured it out after… the equipment room incident.”

Akaashi pursed his lips together. “Oh, I did. But I wasn’t talking about just you.”

Your eyebrows lifted, opting to stay silent. Akaashi nibbled at his bottom lip in hesitancy, allowing him the time to process through whatever he clearly wanted to say. You brace yourself when you see him taking a slow, deep breath.

“With you, it was… so fucking obvious. And it wasn’t just because you followed him around, or laughed obnoxiously loud at his dumb jokes. If anybody looked at you for longer than five seconds, they’d see it on your face – clear as day. You looked at him like… I don’t know. Like he made all the flowers bloom, or painted the sunset with your favorite colors or something poetic like that.”

“That sounded pretty poetic to me,” you laugh, though it sounded hollow and despondent in its attempt to hide the gut punch Akaashi’s words delivered. Akaashi smiled ruefully, but he continued. 

“My point is – you never had to tell me. I knew it. You knew it. We all knew it. Your feelings were never the big secret you thought it was. Bokuto might have been the only person in this world that never picked up on it. And actually, there was a point in time when I genuinely thought he was ignoring them on purpose. Fuck, maybe he did. I never really figured it out. I don’t really think he ever did either. Because with Bokuto…”

Akaashi took the deep breath you’ve been holding the entire time he spoke, and he looked directly at you this time as he spoke.

“I knew he loved you. He loved you, maybe a bit more than he knew what to do with. God, if you only saw how he’d glare at any guy that tried to even look at you. They were ridiculous – hilariously vicious. He always did it behind your back, but it was about as subtle as a flashing neon sign. I don’t know how you never caught him.You followed him around, sure, but he made sure he kept you by his side, never letting you stray too far from him. Because if you weren’t next to him, then he was… lost. It’s stupid but– yeah, I think I knew he loved you, even before he knew it himself. And I could have told him. Should have told him. It would have been easy, quick – ‘Bokuto, Y/N is in love with you’. And he would have gone running. Well, nevermind. It might have taken him a couple days, but when it hit him… I don’t think anything in the world could have stopped him.”

Silver streaks on Akaashi’s face matched the warm tears that trickled down your own, and you tried to catch his gaze but at this point, he stared fixedly down at his lap. 

“Keiji…” you called out to him, somehow wrangling his name through the tightness of your throat, because you need him to look at you. Needed him to see that you didn’t blame him, would never even think to. But he doesn’t meet your eyes. Instead, he barrels on. 

“But I didn’t. Obviously. I kept my mouth shut, and just watched you two bumble around like idiots. It was, believe it or not, torturous for me. For the longest time, I kept my nose out of your business, because I know what it’s like to… Ahh,” He bows his head, and covers his eyes with the palm of his hand. It took a moment before he wiped his hand away and continued, “I did try once, though. With you. And I felt so completely iced out afterwards, I remembered exactly why I kept out of it for so long.”

He must have sensed the rebuttal at the tip of your tongue, but he interrupts you before you could even start.

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty. I’m telling you this because… I was afraid too. I was scared that if I had kept pushing, then you would have pulled away from me completely. I was scared that Bokuto would think I was overstepping my boundaries. I was scared that it would work out, and the two of you would phase me out of your lives. I was scared it wouldn’t work out, and everything would be…”

His voice trailed off, so you softly finished for him, “Fucked up?”

He finally, finally looked at you then. You reached across the table and held his hand in yours. You felt him stiffen for a second before turning his hand and curling his own fingers around yours. A giggle of relief spills from your lips, and it elicits a chuckle from Akaashi, and the sound blooms within you.

“You guys are my best friends,” Akaashi said, his grip on you tightening just a fraction, “And I saw what you were putting each other through. I was watching it all happen in front of my own eyes. I should have done something more, right? If I had tried harder with you, if I just talked to Bokuto, if I bothered even just a little bit more to get over my shit and helped my friends…  Then this never would have happened. And Kuroo… God, Kuroo. He didn’t need me to do a damn thing, he just loved you but still I managed to fuck things up for him and –”

“Shut up!”

Akaashi started a little at your sudden outburst, but it achieved the desired effect. He blinked at you once, then twice. You almost felt a twinge of guilt at your lack of patience, considering all that Akaashi was beginning to unpack in front of you. But weren’t you the one that called dibs on the mental breakdown today? If he thought you were just going to sit there and listen to his blasphemy, then he’s sorely mistaken.

“Don’t you even try to blame any of it on yourself, Keiji,” you spat out, irritated, “How could you even say something so convoluted? How could you even think such a –”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Akaashi interrupts you fervently, as if desperate to get you to listen to him, “I let my fears hold me back, instead of facing it for the people that mattered to me. I’m just a coward.”

“No, Keiji. You’re not a coward. You…” You let out a heavy breath, all the sharpness in your tone now softening at Akaashi’s deep set frown, “Do you even have any idea how much you saved me? Even though things were… unspoken between us, I knew you understood me. Without me ever having to say a single word, you understood me. And you never judged me or tried to tell me I was wrong. You just… you just held my hand. No matter what happened, good or bad, if I looked to my side, I knew I would see you there. Do you think you’re the only person that notices the little things? I felt your support, and I felt your love. Even when you didn’t say it out loud.”

“But–”

“No more buts, I really don’t want to hear it. You weren’t the one responsible for us,” your eyes were hard, providing no room for arguments, “You were just a kid. What could you have even done? You saw how stubborn I was being! Do you really think I would have listened? You were young, and afraid, and didn’t know any –”

Too late. The words flew out of your mouth quickly, you didn’t even think twice about it. Your guard was down, and you knew that was the most dangerous thing around Akaashi Keiji. Because too slowly did you realize the trap he laid out in front of you. And as the words slipped past your lips, you realized you were already too late. Akaashi was already looking at you with that smug grin.

“It’s not the same, and you know it.”

“No, it’s not,” He chuckled at you as if you weren’t staring daggers at his soul right now, “But if you can afford me that much grace, then I think you owe the same to yourself. Everyone makes mistakes. You won’t meet a single person that doesn’t have any regrets. But you can’t let those feelings define you. Only improve you. I know you’re feeling… a lot of shit right now that I probably can’t even begin to process. But it’s what you do with those feelings that matter.” He propped an elbow on the table, and rested his chin in the palm of his halls. “Are you gonna let it keep you down?”

You felt a little stunned, and though Akaashi’s words were simple, you could feel them find their mark. Hot tears pricked at the corner of your eyes yet again, and you didn’t look away from Akaashi as you let them fall. Still, you crossed your arms indignantly and pouted. “I can’t help but feel like I fell for some dirty trick.”

Akaashi laughed this time, waving his hand to beckon you closer to him. You begrudgingly moved from your spot, ignoring the ache in all your joints from your lack of movement, and crawled to sit beside Akaashi. He lifted the kotatsu skirt for you to settle under before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Dirty trick or not, as long as it gets the point across.”

“I understand, Keiji. I do, but still,” you sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder, “It’s difficult not to feel foolish.”

“I know,” Akaashi said as he laid his cheek against your crown, “I know. Fools in love, right?”

You didn’t know what to say, so you chose not to say anything. The lull in conversation allowed you the time to process his words, closing your eyes to feel everything you’d been avoiding the entire day. With a deep inhale, and a slow exhale, you silently search for the strength to let it all go. 

A buzz on the table catches your attention. Akaashi makes a point to ignore the notification, even more so when it buzzes again. 

The sight of his phone only served to remind you of your own, sitting dead and silent somewhere in the corner of your room for the entire day, of the calls that went straight to voicemail, of the messages that are unanswered – of the two men on the other side of line, waiting to see which way their world is about turn. 

“Have you heard from…” 

Akaashi lets out a snort through his nose. “Oh, yes, I have. I’m probably dead for ignoring all the calls and texts. But I needed to make sure you were alright before I answered anything.”

You chuckle, moving out of Akaashi’s one-armed embrace and sitting up to face him fully. “I love you, Keiji. I’d pick you if you were in love with me too, you know. What do you say? Wanna throw a towel in the ring?”

Akaashi laughed, loud and brash and genuine, and for the first time that day, you actually believed that everything will be alright. “I love you too, y/n. But I’d rather die.”

You nudged him hard with your elbow before standing up, leaving Akaashi to rub the sore spot while you stretched out your sore limbs. “I guess it’s time to stop hiding now, right?”

“Yeah…” Akaashi trails off, and you wait for him to ask the question you could see had been brewing in his mind for hours, “What are you gonna do?”

The question shoots a pang of loneliness through you. Because no matter what decision you make, everything will change. Your friendships will not walk away unscathed, and there will never be going back to the way things were. This was irrefutable, and that thought alone should terrify you, should make you want to scramble back on your knees and beg the gods to turn back time. Yet, it doesn’t. 

No, instead you’re filled with a sense of clarity that you’re not sure you’ve ever felt before. It pained you to know that you’ll hurt the people that matter to you the most, but not as much as it would pain you to know that you weren’t being true to yourself. 

It was time for you to choose your own happiness.

“Nothing’s changed for me, Keiji. I’ve always known what I was gonna do. Whether this truth came out or stayed hidden forever… my answer is going to be the same.” You smiled sadly as you spoke to Akaashi, and he offered nothing but an understanding nod, “From now on, for me, it’s always going to be him.”

✧: @kawaii-angelanne @boosyboo9206 @theglitterypages @rntrsuna @vinsmouke @chi-anpan @jinadamsel @kowalsqq @arcorjoan @galaxyfloater3

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his redemption

synopsis ⤸

after unknowingly moving in next door to a renown gang-leader, you are thrust into a foreign world tainted by the scars of his past. will you be able to help him redeem his sins before they finally catch up to him?

chapters ⤸

one | 5.1k

themes ⤸

fem! reader, 18+, dark fic, gang au, gang-leader! bakugo, doctor! reader, one night stands, friends with benefits, unrequited feelings, mutual pining, smut, graphic depictions of violence, kidnappings, mentions of blood, dubcon

reblogs are appreciated ~

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

Aberration - Chapter 9

MHA!Various x Fem!Reader

Thriller/Horror/Drama

Criminal!AU

Words: 2.6k

A/N: After 1000 years, chapter 9 is FINALLY COMPLETED. I hope it’s good enough. It’s a wee bit shorter than the last but I wanted to leave this on a specific cliff hanger~ Enjoy!

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Mentions of murder, torture, abuse, blood, felonies, bullying, swearing, death and description of dead bodies.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of MHA, just this story. In no way does this reflect the characters, writers or VAs of the show/manga. MINORS DNI.

~~~

Aberration Masterlist

~~~

Move your legs, Y/N!’

It’s like time slowed down as you notice the inmates have been freed. Fear rises inside you knowing each and every single one of these people are dangerous.

‘Move your fucking legs, Y/N!’

You couldn’t move, couldn’t flee. Your body is frozen in pure terror. You KNOW you need to move. You KNOW you need to back out of that goddamn room or you will not survive. But no matter how much you will your legs to move, they’re practically paralyzed underneath you.

“MS. Y/N, YOU NEED TO LEAVE! NOW!”

Keep reading

ran haitani x f!reader

join the taglist |  series masterlist | previous chapter

chapter 8 - ran gets to be the good guy, what could go wrong, really?

a/n - violence, kidnapping, reader is tied up in a not sexy way, some villain reveals and twists, swearing, guns, murder(?), intrugue, corruption. same tone as the show. reader is cis female, dom ran, sub reader.

You wake up with a bad taste in your mouth. Feeling slowly comes back to your limbs, you flex your fingers, your forearms, your feet, your thighs, and realize that you are tied quite securely to a chair. There’s a slight chill, and your coat’s been removed. There’s a dull throbbing at the back of your head. You wait to open your eyes until you’ve been listening for a few minutes, you can hear the hum of a television in the corner, the sound of someone breathing. The kind of fear that’s quiet and cold, that makes it hard to speak, hard to breathe, settles in your chest. You open your eyes.

“You up?” A deep voice, one they don’t recognize. “Yukihira’s a fuckin’ amateur,” You blink in the darkness of the room, you’re in a basement, cinderblock walls painted green, one window duct taped shut, with a tarp swaying gently against the wall. “He overdid it.” You turn your head towards the voice and the largest man you’ve ever seen moves towards you. You let out a little frightened squeak. “That’s fuckin’ precious.” He says in a low growl, his blond hair tied away from his face in a messy bun.

“Can’t believe Yukihira and Haitani hit that,” you feel his eyes rake over your body, “You’ve got shitty taste in men.” He pulls a box of cigarettes from his pocket and lights one up. He’s wearing a dirty white tank top that clings to his muscled abdomen, you can see his tattoos through the shirt. You swallow a couple times, bringing moisture for your mouth.

“W-where am I?” You can’t help the stutter that slips into your voice, your hands are shaking even as they’re tied to the chair.

“My place.” The man says, his eyes not leaving your chest when he speaks to you.

“I don’t have any money.” You say quietly, terror rippling through your body, and he nods.

“Don’t I know it.” He takes a long drag of his cigarette. “Gonna ask who I am?” Ice creeps into your veins as you realize, no, you don’t have to.

“You’re Terano South.” He smirks. “You uh, I’ve seen your picture in Tooru’s files,” a thought hits you, “Wait, where the fuck is Tooru?” South takes the cig out of his mouth and blows smoke.

“He wants to see ya but I told him to fuck off,” South crouches in front of you, “I wanted to meet the only girl Haitani Ran ever loved first. Alone.” You shake your head.

“He didn’t love me, really.” The words are heavy on your tongue, something you’ve thought often, an idea you’d cling to like a life raft, when you would lay next to some boy who wasn’t Ran, who might have been alright in bed, serviceable even, but who wasn’t Ran Haitani, wasn’t a slow smirk and firm hand, wasn’t yours. Those words had carried you for years, that if he loved you he’d have followed you, he’d have left Roppongi, he’d have come for you. Even after all this time, it had been you, not him, who had sought him out.

“It’s not any of my business.” South says, bringing you back to the present. “But I wanted to meet you.” He offers you the half smoked cigarette.

“I’m alright.” You say quietly, stretching a little, testing the rope. He shrugs, popping it back in his mouth, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Do I get to know why I’m here?”

“Ah,” South shrugs, “You were giving so much to Bonten, I just thought I’d have you spread the wealth.” Something about this rings oddly false to you. “Yukihira’s been mine for about a year, and when he let me know that Haitani was,” he thinks about the right word for it, “Hanging around, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to get back at Mikey.” You blink a couple times. If you try hard, you can remember Mikey, remember the void darkness of his eyes, his blonde hair, his slight silhouette. “Of course, fucking with Haitani is just a bonus, but you,” he reaches out and cups your face with a gigantic hand, “You’re going to give me everything I want.” You swallow nervously.

“A-and what is it you want?” You ask, a pit forming in your stomach, but he waves your words away.

“A great number of things.” He rumbles, eyes flicking down to your breasts and then back to your face, “But I’ll start with the code to get into the evidence locker at city hall. I know they have a specific one that they use before trial, and I know that you know what the code is.”

“And if I refuse?” You ask, and he cocks his head at you.

“Interesting.” He considers, as if he’d never considered that you wouldn’t cooperate. “Interesting. Then I’ll hurt you.” Your jaw sets.

“Hurt me how?” You curse yourself for the pathetic tremble in your voice.

“Well, now,” he says, a smile plays on his lips, “That’s up to me isn’t it?” You shiver. “I can think of a lot of fun ways to make you see sense. Wonder if Haitani would still want you, after I made you mine?” He snarls the last word and you spit in his face, on instinct. “Stupid cunt,” South snaps, wiping his face on his already dirty tank top, and slapping you, his palm connecting with your face with a sound like thunder.

You’d take the hits back on the playground for your brother a thousand times, a hundred times, before this, it hurts, badly, but the sheer impact of it knocks the chair you're tied to onto its side, your wrist cracking against the concrete floor of whatever basement you’re in. “Yukihira,” South yells, “Come talk some sense into your fucking bitch.” There’s a pause, one you vaguely register as your brain floats back to your body and a tear leaks unbidden from your eye.

You blink a couple times, and South comes back into focus, oddly, he looks nervous, and jumpy rather than angry. You hear a loud crash and South takes off, bringing a walkie talkie to his lips. Your head spins on the ground, the pain in your wrist and face is intense, distractingly so, but it also grounds you, keeps you conscious. You rest your head on the cool ground, and listen to the growing shouts that clearly indicate a fight.

You start to wiggle your wrist out of the rope on your good arm, and it takes a few minutes, you can hear the kerfuffle escalating but as soon as you yank your hand free you get to work on your other hand, which is starting to swell. It works, but you’re slow, and clumsy. You bend forward to work at your ankles and the door to the room opens again. Your ex boyfriend steps into the room, knuckles bloody, hair askew.

“Fuck off,” You snap but he just looks concerned, as if your vitriol didn’t register. He notices several things very quickly, your already bruising cheek, your spot on the floor, your half untied form.

“Ah, ah,” He tuts, pulling your chair into an upright position. “Put those back,” he gestures to your wrists. “It’s nothing, right now. Just a little security breach.”

“If you actually cared about me,” You say, venom dripping from your voice, drawing your free hands into your chest so that he has to pry them away from you to attach them again. “You’d let me go.” He shrugs.

“I don’t like that he hurt you.” He says quietly. “But you knew what you were getting into when you re-entered this life, when you invited Haitani back in.”

“This is not about him,” You say angrily, “And Ran would never hit me. Not ever.”

“Is that so?” Tooru says, as if he’s barely paying attention to you. He opens his mouth to continue but his eyes roll in his head and he falls forward, blood at the base of his skull, stumbling and catching himself on the ground as Ran steps around the corner, tucking the slightly bloodied silver pistol into his shoulder holster.

“Of fucking course it is.” He rolls his eyes, and darts to you. “Bastard.” He whips out a knife from his belt. “If you’re injured, I’ll take it out on his fucking corpse. After I kill him.”

“Ran,” you’re in shock, numb, things are changing so quickly, “Ran I think my wrist is broken.” He presses a kiss to the side of your face and slices through the ropes on your waist and bends down to your ankles to free them.

Over his shoulder, you catch the familiarly monstrous silhouette darkening the hallway. Later, you would protest that your first thought was actually just to warn Ran, that it didn’t have anything to do with your faith in him, that it was complete instinct that had you rip the pistol from Ran’s upper back holster and point it at the blonde. You’d say you didn’t mean to pull the trigger, that you didn’t realize how sensitive the mechanism would be as you picked it up with your good hand and point it at South. There’s an ear splitting explosion as the bullet leaves the gun, hitting Terano South square in the chest.

“F-fuck,” the huge blonde falls to the ground, his breathing shallow. “Stupid, fucking bitch.” He spits blood on the floor, his eyes losing focus. Your ears are ringing in the silence, mind absolutely leaving your body as you stare at the body on the ground in the hallway. Ran lifts his head and takes exactly one beat to take stock of the situation, easing the gun from your shaking hands, holstering it, and lifting you in his arms.

“It’s okay,” he says quickly. “It’s okay, baby, don’t think for me, just hold onto my neck, can you do that?”

“R-ran,” you get out, your teeth are chattering, your temperature is dropping, Ran doesn’t have to be a doctor to recognize the onset of medical shock.

“I need you to breathe.” Ran says sharply. “Can you do that for me?” You nod, trying to focus only on taking short measured breaths. “That’s my girl.” He steps over South’s body, turning your face into his shoulder.

“Did I kill him?” You twist in Ran’s arms, and start to tremble, “Ran, did I just, did I just kill someone?”

“Shhhh,” he breathes, “Don’t think about that right now.”

“Ran,” you raise your voice as he runs out of the back of what you now realize is a huge warehouse and gets into a car that’s got the engine running, “Ran I can’t just-”

“Shut up for me.” He says, more sharply than he means. You feel him rub your forearms as you take a shaky breath. “Just don’t try to think about it right now for me, alright, we’re gonna go back to my apartment and-” He’s cut off by your dry aching sob.

“Ran,” you choke out, “Can you make it go away,” you wipe your face on your hands, and he tucks your head under his chin.

“Yes, baby,” he coos, “Daddy can make it all go away.” You start to cry then in earnest. “Give me your wrist.” He orders softly and you hand it to him. He takes the swollen joint and raps on the partition between him and his driver. “We’ll need a doctor to the office’s after you drop us off.” He presses a kiss to the side of your face, feeling you gasp and shake as you cry, hard. “Did they touch you, baby?” He asks, and you hear the threat, the undertone in his voice centers you a little as you shake your head and bury your face in his chest.

“R-ran,” you choke out, “I shot s-someone.”

“Let’s stop saying that out loud, darling,” he coos, “Can you do that for me?” You nod, sniffing loudly. “Gonna let me take care of things?” You nod again, the only warmth in your eyes is his own reflection. “That’s my girl.” You relax against him, he smells like pine and musk and right now, you cling to him, locking your arms around his neck as the car speeds off.

Ran rubs circles in your back as you start to sob violently, the kind of aching, headache causing angry tears he’s seen from you only once before.

“You know,” You’d said, leaning against the doorway to his room. “I’m leaving in a week.” He looks up at you, confused. It’s late summer, the golden days of August tinged with rot. “For college, Ran, I’m going to Tokyo.”

“You were serious about that?” He says, rolling his neck, listening to the joints pop. “Leaving me, for college?”

“It doesn’t have to be leaving you,” you protest gently. “I um,” he watches that shy smile that he loves so much creep across your face. “I know you have stuff here, with Rin, and Hanma, and whatever it is you all get up to.” He raises an eyebrow. “I know I know I’m choosing ignorance here.” He gestures for you to sit, but you don’t take him up on the offer.

“I mean, you’re not going.” He says, mouth pressing into a hard line. “No, I want you here, and you’re going to stay here, Lamb, you don’t want to go to school-”

“Yes I do.” You cut him off. “I do and I’m going and, and you’re not going to be able to scare me into staying Ran.” His eyes darken, wanna fucking bet, his mind races, imaginging what he could do to- “I have an offer for you.” You say, circumventing his planning quickly.

“Shoot.” He says, crossing his arms over his chest, walls up.

“Come with me.” You say, and there’s this quiet delicate urgency to your voice. “Get a normal job in Tokyo, Ran, fuck this shit, you’re smart, you could do it. There has to be something you want to do more than selling drugs, and all this violence I mean-”

“You think I can just roll up to an office,” Ran says, almost amused at the absurdity of the thought, “And get a job?”

“You could work at a bakery or something,” you say quickly, “Or in a kitchen, you could do data entry, maybe get your GED, finish high school-”

“Babe,” Ran laughs, “I don’t wanna do any of that shit.” He watches you deflate. “But don’t worry, you’re gonna stay here and move in with us. We need someone to clean, anyway.”

“I’m not,” you stop yourself, and take a deep breath, shoving down your anger at his immediate assumption that you’d be his live-in maid. “Ran. I’m going, I’m going to college. The question is if you’re coming with me or if you’re going to stay here and let your life continue to deteriorate.”

“Deteriorate?” Ran’s eyes narrow sharply, “Didn’t I save your fucking ass, on more than one occassion, and you wanna come in here and-”

“I want better for you,” your voice finally rises in pitch, “I want more, don’t you want more, than like, fucking around, never learning, never getting better?”

“I like my life.” Ran says, defensively, “I like my life a lot, and I’m not about to leave Rindou here and abandon all the shit we’ve built,” he leans forward, “We rule this fucking city, baby, and I wanna do it with you at my side I-”

“Except I wouldn’t be at your side.” You snap. “Because I don’t approve of violence, and I’d apparently be at home making you dinner.” He smirks.

“And you’d look sexy doing it.” He jerks his head towards the other seat at the table, but you stay at the doorway.

“I am leaving.” He hears it now, the desperation in your voice, “And I love you, Ran Haitani.” He doesn’t say anything. “I love you, so much.” You say again. “I think about you, when you’re out with your friends, I get so worried that my stomach hurts, when I know you’re doing dangerous shit, I, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, and I can’t fucking live like this all the time knowing that you’re willingly putting yourself at risk, I-”

“I can take care of myself.” He says sharply, “I don’t need-”

“I know you don’t need me worrying,” Your hands shake harder, “I just, I think you’d be safer doing something else, anything–”

“You know I’ve killed people.” He says coldly, and watches you flinch like he’d swung at you. “I’m nineteen and I’ve seen the inside of a prison cell more than I’ve seen my own fucking mother..I am not the kind of person who can,” he laughs again but it’s joyless, “Go get a job at a bakery. And,” He stands, taking a step forward, towering over you, “I’m not the kind of person who you can just leave.”

“I,” your voice trembles, “I just wanted, I want,”

“To change me,” Ran says, eyes flashing dangerously, “To make me a completely different person, so that I’d fit in with your bullshit intellectualist friends? You think you’d want me if I was the kind of man your mother would approve of? You think you’d still want me without all this?” That makes your eyes shoot open and you lean towards him even as your lower lip quivers.

“I would want you. Period. End of sentence. That’s what love means. It means I want you.” You take a deep breath, and steady yourself, his expression is still completely unreadable. “I mean I,” you reach for him and he doesn’t reach back, but lets you take his dead fish hand, lets you lace your fingers with his. “Come with me.” You whisper. “I think you’re worth it,” you rock onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek. He remains impassive. “I think you’re worth saving, I wanna save you like you saved me, that’s all.” He nods slowly, and pushes you away from him. You feel your heart break in your chest. You’d never realized an organ could be so brittle. “Don’t you,” you warble, “Don’t you love me,” your voice is tiny, “Ran, please, say it back.”

“Get out.” He says, looking at the door. “Get going before I lock that fucking door.”

“Ran.” You beg, hating the sound of your own voice as you start to cry, hard. “Ran please,”

“I said fuck off,” He snaps, “I said fuck straight off with that shit, you wanna fucking save me, it’s too goddamn late, do you know how that fucking sounds?”

“I’ll, I’ll text you, tomorrow, I have a week we can-” “Don’t fucking bother.” He fumbles in his pocket for a cigarette. “Get out.” You don’t however, leave, you stand there, for some reason, tears pouring from your eyes, crying hard. “Are you waiting for me to comfort you?” He snarls, his voice taking on a mocking tone. “I can get any bitch I goddamn want I can-”

“Fuck you,” you choke out, wiping your face on your sleeve. “I’m going.” Please don’t. Ran thinks.

“Good.” He says. Please don’t leave, please don’t, please don’t, please, I’m begging I’ll beg. “Hope you find some other bastard to annoy.” You cry harder, but turn your back on him and head towards the door. It opens a second before you get there, and you go to push past Rindou, who sees you crying and grabs you by the upper arm roughly, stopping your escape.

“The hell is going on?” He asks. Ran lights up his cigarette.

“Let her go.” Ran says, shrugging. “Bitch wants to leave, let her go.” Rindou’s brow furrows, but makes a quick calculation, and drags you outside, slamming the door.

“You think I’m gonna let you near him ever again?” Rindou snarls, as if you’re not crying so hard you can barely see, as if your face isn’t puffy and swollen. The grey skies give way to a gentle rain as you stand outside the apartment. “If you leave, if you hurt him, I will never fucking forgive you.”

“I g-gave him a choice,” you choke out. “He told me to leave.” Rindou lets go of your arm, surprised. “He d-doesn’t love me.” You watch Rindou consider, consider the entire summer, how you’d been the first girl Ran hadn’t gotten bored of, the first girl he’d ever touched softly, the first girl who stayed over without being tossed to Hanma or Rindou in the morning. He remembers how you’d balked at the idea of being shared, even when Ran had ordered you to do it, how you’d refused, genuinely confused by the request.

“But I love you, Ran.” You’d said.

“Go, then.” Rindou takes a step back from you. “Just go. I’ll uh, I’ll talk to him.” You keep crying and walk down the empty stairwell alone, taking the long way home so that you’re cried out by the time you get to your kitchen. No one waits up for you any more. You collapse on your bed, and catch something dark draped over the chair of your vanity, and take out your phone.

You: I still have your jacket.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispers, hating those words, they taste so off on his tongue that he nearly recoils. “For being an asshole.” You look up, and he registers your bruising face, your likely concussion. “When you left, I should have held your hand, I should have begged, I wanted to, I wanted to tell you to stay. I was,” he pauses, “I was young.”

“It’s okay.” You croak.

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” He promises, “Gonna make everything up to you baby, I love you, love you so much, alright?”

“Never stopped,” you wipe your face on his shirt and he chuckles. “Embarrassing but I still have your jacket, if you want it.” That hits him harder than he expects, the idea that you held onto that cheap black jacket, that someone had embroidered for him when he was a teenager, for all these years.

“Later.” He says softly. You feel him caressing your silhouette, his lips on the top of your cheeks, his hand on your waist. “We’re gonna go to my office,” he says softly, “I’m gonna give you some pills they’ll help you chill out.” You nod, burying your face in his neck. “Wish I’d killed Yukihira.” He mumbles, trying to make a joke but you shudder.

“D-do you think I k-killed that guy?” You hiccup, and he pretends to think about it.

“Probably.” He says honestly. “Not many people get shot like that and live.” You lock your arms around his neck, fresh tears in your eyes. “You won’t go down for it,” he massages your scalp, “Promise I’ll take care of it.” He pauses. “You trust me?” You blink up at him, catching your breath long enough to say,

“With my life.”

Ran tucks a blanket around your body as the xanax helps your mind drift off to sleep before joining the rest of Bonten in the private dining room they did business in. Rindou glances in his direction, a bruise forming under his left cheek.

“Who gotcha?” Ran asks casually and Rindou rolls his eyes.

“Who the fuck do you think? Terano on his way out of there to get to you.” He says and Sanzu lets out a manic cackle.

“Heard your bitch took care of business for you.” Ran’s eyes narrow and he whirls on the hitman, but Kakucho clears his throat.

“We need to strategize. The two of you can whip your dicks out later.” Ran mutters something under his breath, sitting down next to Rindou. Mikey stands.

“Four warehouses, and three of our apartments were raided by federal officers who were apparently tipped off by someone who works for our organization. Terano acted on that information by way of his inside spy in city hall, Yukihira Tooru. The feds didn’t find shit,” Mikey’s eyes are dark and cold, “But we won’t be able to use those warehouses again for months.” Kokonoi massages his temples.

“I’ll figure something out, but it’ll be expensive. We got lucky.” He stands, sweeping the cards and empty drinks that cover the table they’re sitting at. “The way I see it, here are our players. We got City Hall, the feds.” He takes Ran’s empty Manhattan, the orange peel curled and fragrant. “We got Terano, and other gangs, and the link, is Yukihira and Ran’s girl.” Ran cocks his head a little.

“I didn’t think Terano had a crew,” Ran mutters, thinking.

“He doesn’t,” Rindou confirms, “I keep tabs on him.”

“So where did he get all those guys, and also,” Kachucho says, “Yukihira doesn’t have the kinda clout at city hall that can move a whole ass SWAT team.” Ran nods.

“His dad does.” You say, standing at the doorway, eyelids heavy as every mobster in the room turns to look at you. “His father,” you rub your eyes with your good hand, your other wrist heavily bandaged. “His father is the police commissioner. And this,” You pad over to the table and frown. “It would make sense if he gave some of his dirty cops to Terano to use to take you down, which would serve several of his needs, one,” you stop and yawn, “Sorry, one, to get rid of me, because I keep throwing his men in jail when they pull shit. Two, if he’s crooked in favor of Terano then he’d benefit from any power diminishing he could accomplish of um,” you think about it, “You call yourselves bonten, right?” There’s a silence. “My head hurts.” You mumble.

“So this is where Ran’s braincell has been.” Rindou says eventually. “You took it with you when you left.” You laugh halfheartedly, and Ran scowls, yanking you into his lap.

“C’mere.” He says, nestling you against his chest.

“I actually came in for more drugs,” you say, twisting to look up at Ran. Mikey’s eyes fall on you, his gaze is dark and cold.

“You’re sure about this?” He asks, and you swallow, trying to ignore the throbbing of your wrist and head.

“I’d bet my life on it.” You shrug. “I kinda am, already, aren’t I?” Mikey nods slowly. “For the record,” you return his joyless stare. “I think you should go to prison, and if I could, I’d put you there.” There’s a cold silence, even Ran doesn’t move. “But I want the commissioner gone more.” Ran’s grip on you tightens, a warning, but Mikey doesn’t seem baited.

“You wanna make a deal.” Mikey says, leaning forward, placing his palms flat on the table. “Do you think you’re in any position to negotiate?” Ran’s grip on your waist tightens, but you respond anyway.

“I,” and for the first time the vulnerability surfaces under the pseudo calm of the drugs. “I shot a man, a few hours ago.” Your lips twitch downward. “My grip on reality is um, tenuous at best. But I’m willing to give you, to give you what you want, if it means you’ll take the commissioner down. I don’t know if that counts as negotiation.” Ran opens his mouth to speak but Mikey puts a hand up.

“And what,” He says, “Is it that you think I want?”

“I can testify that Yukihira is dirty.” You lift your head. “He’s the D.A. in charge of organized crime, which would mean every clue he touched, every case he’s built against every man in this room would get thrown out because it’s,” you put up air quotes, “Fruit of the poison tree, aka inadmissible in a court of law in this country.” You shrug. “I can’t stop them from investigating you, but I can make them start from scratch.”

“Holy shit.” Kokonoi breathes. You rub your eyes.

“How do we take down the commissioner,” Mikey demands. You sniff, tears welling in your eyes as your broken wrist throbs. You wipe your eyes as every man in the room holds his breath.

“You have to um, you have to trick Tooru into outing his own father.” You swallow. “Or um, I have to. But I think I can do it. You’d have to trust me.” You turn in Ran’s lap. “This would mean letting me um,” you grit your teeth for a second and let out a long breath, controlling the pain in your head and arm, shoving it down, “Letting me out of your sight for a few minutes.”

` “Then no.” Ran says. “Then we do something else.”

“Haitani,” Mikey cautions.

“No fucking way,” Ran stands up, depositing you in the chair, “I just got her back, I get that none of you,” his voice cuts through the room like a blade, “None of you have shit like this, attachments, but I, I’m not gonna live without her because you wanna avoid getting your ass dragged into court.”

“Ran-”

“Shut up,” He snaps at you, “You’re the last person I want to-”

“Haitani,” Mikey glowers up at him, and Ran closes his mouth, but puts his hand up.

“I’m gonna talk to my bitch outside.” He pulls you into a standing position. “Anyone have an issue with that?” No one speaks. “Great.” Ran drags you into the hallway, ignoring your protests. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He says, voice low and dangerous. “You’re just gonna walk into a room of fucking criminals and open that mouth of yours? Mikey could have shot you, fuck Sanzu absolutely would have shot you-”

“Ran I know what I’m doing-”

“You do not.” He hisses.

“Ran,” you look up at him, eyes wide, pleading. “Ran I have to do this because after this is over I’m resigning.” He blinks down at you, shocked. Yes, you quitting your job was part of the plan, but he thought he’d have to knock you up first, that it would take years. “I have to do one last good thing but I,” you chew on your lower lip. “My faith is shaken. In,” you gesture broadly, “In the goodness of people. And of institutions, I,” you sigh. “I’ve known Tooru a long time, and he just,” you shake your head, “Handed me over to them like it was nothing, I mean, I slept with him, he stayed over, he told me he loved me, and then, for what, he betrayed me for power, for money? For revenge?” You shiver, and Ran softens, realizing what a blow this is for you.

“After this, you’ll resign?”

“Yeah,” You say, your voice tiny and small. “I’ll get some corporate counsel job, where um, where I can’t end up tied to a chair in someone's basement.” He pulls you into his chest. No, no you’re not, he thinks, it’ll be a miracle if I ever let you out of my sight again. Bbut he doesn’t say it.

“I’m gonna take care of things, alright, you’re gonna be safe from here on out because anyone coming near you,” you catch the steely glint in his eyes, “Has to get through me.” You take a fistful of his shirt.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble. “I feel like if I hadn’t reached out to you-”

“You calling me was the best thing that possibly could have happened to me.” He leans down and kisses the top of your head. “Let’s go back in there, you just stay in my lap this time like a good little lamb.” You laugh lightly.

“Painkillers first?”

“How about booze now,” He offers, “Painkillers tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” You agree and he cups your face and you nuzzle his hand affectionately before leading you back into the room.

“Baby is going to behave.” He announces. “She does this for us, and none of you get near her again.” Mikey nods, and gestures to the table.

“So what,” you feel his dark eyes boring into yours, “Is your plan?”

Title: An Ordinary Girl Obsessed Over By a Downer Deity

creators: umekoppe

-> link to purchase here (support the author!)

-> read free here

Summary: The protagonist has just found a new job, and will be leaving her prefecture in Spring to start. She heads to the rundown shrine near her to speak of the news, but finds a mysterious, weak-looking man passed out. She decides to nurse him back to health until spring... The otherworldly man finally comes to get some life in him, but his attachment to her grows to an unhealthy level. "I want to be with you forever." Before the protagonist realizes it, she has reached the point of no return.

‼️ Content Warnings: noncon / manipulation / yandere male lead / age gap / interspecies / creampie / knotting

Fragment of the Past 03

pairing: patient!jungkook x psychiatrist!reader genre: thriller & yandere au

summary: You are a well-known and respected psychiatrist and author. You start treating Jungkook, who suffers from PTSD after surviving an extremely traumatic incident. As you help him confront his traumatic past, he begins to act strangely, and you start uncovering something about him that will change everything.

chapter summary: You thought that you could finally escape from Jungkook but little did you know that he has something more to hold against you. You endure everything that he did to you but he was too much until you can no longer take him anymore.

chapter warnings: hazing, fraternity, blackmailing, manipulation, smut, non con, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), mc was traumatized, stalking, murder, major character death word count: 11.3K

parts: (1) | (2) | (3)

note: This fiction will contain multiple mental disorders and psychology facts. I conducted my own research to avoid spreading misinformation, but there may be aspects I've overlooked, so I am open for any corrections.

"Why are you here? Aren't you aware of the restraining order?" You threw your pen on the table and stood up from your seat, while a sinister smile curled his lips. He continued to take a step towards you and you immediately pushed the buttons that connected to the reception desk. He only laughed before he spoke.

“It’s 9 in the evening, Y/N. No one’s here except for the both of us.” His words send shivers down your spine.

He was right, Soyeon and your other colleagues went home 3 hours ago and you’re the only one left inside. 

You love to overwork but right now, you wish that you just continue working at home. 

He’s going to kill you before the night ends. You’re sure of it. 

You reach your phone with a shaking hand as you scroll to your contact list and click Detective Jung’s number. 

“Who are you going to call? Detective Jung?” His words were like whispers from the depths of darkness.

Detective Jung isn’t answering your calls. 

“You’d be arrested once you come near me.” You tried to threaten him, but it only sounded like a joke to him.

He took a seat in his usual position as he intertwined both of his hands.

“I commend you for your cleverness when you ask for a restraining order against me,” He crosses his legs and touches his lips. “Unfortunately for you, it won’t stop me from attending our sessions."

“It’s my first time attending an evening session, is it also your first time, Dr. Y/N?” He said with a malevolent grin stretched across his lips.

“I swear, before the sun rises tomorrow, you’d be arrested.” You spoke, clenching your jaw. 

“With how fast you climb to the top, I thought you were smart, Y/N. But I was wrong.” He pokes the inside of his cheek as he smirks. “You should know by now the reason why I’m not in jail for killing my mother.” 

You weren’t able to respond, like a cat caught your mouth. 

“I thought that you’ll do great in kicking me out of your life so I came prepared. I even thought that you’d approach a different detective for this one, and fortunately, you still decide to approach Detective Jung.” He pauses to let out his laughs. “Don’t you know that he was the reason why I’m still free? He’s my best friend, Y/N!” A sinister laugh erupted from his throat as your body started to shake. 

“I even came up with a plan with my lawyer if ever I was arrested but damn Y/N, I somehow wish that you give me a thrill. You made my life easier than I expected.”

As he said those words, your legs turned to jelly, and a tightness gripped your chest. 

You’ve underestimated him and his power and now, your life's on the line. 

“Go ahead and ruin my reputation. Upload those recordings online, I don’t care anymore. I can’t stomach you anymore, Jungkook.” You spoke in a serious tone, before fixing your things.

“Are you sure about that?” He asked, a smile evident in his voice.

“If you think you need to use those recordings to destroy me, feel free to do so. I won't participate in this any longer. I refuse to be a part of your games, Jungkook.” 

“Oh, Y/N.” He sighs before he continues. “If you think that this is all about you, you’re wrong.” He stood up and took out his phone from his pocket. You’re about to go but he thrust his phone in your chest. “Watch it because you’d love to see what kind of a person your best friend really is.” He smirks and you look at his phone. It was a video and you were scared to play it. The thumbnail is Taehyung standing in front of a man with their eyes blindfolded. Taehyung looks so young in here and you aren’t sure what’s happening. One way to find out. 

You wish you didn’t take his phone. You wish that you just proceed on walking out of your clinic, leaving him inside because when you play the video, you immediately hear a painful scream coming from a man. It wasn’t Taehyung who’s screaming, instead, a man was kneeling and bleeding while his eyes were blindfolded, and Taehyung was hitting him with a baseball bat.

Holy shit. 

Taehyung looks so young in the video. His hair was blonde, it’s his hair when he was 17 or 18, as you remember. You can’t believe what you saw. The man that he’s hitting is begging for him to stop but he doesn't. Instead, he hit him harder. 

Your hands were trembling, almost dropping the phone as you stopped the video from playing. 

What was that?

“Why do you look so scared, Y/N? It’s your best friend.” Jungkook slowly took the phone from your hand. 

Your body trembled uncontrollably, fear had taken hold of your very core. You looked at him, shaking your head.

“That’s not Taehyung.” You said.

“Oh Y/N, I wish you’re right, but it was him.” He chuckled. He takes a few steps back and places his right hand on his pocket as he scrolls to find something on his phone. 

When he finds it, he shows his phone once again. You were confused because it’s a group of male people and when he noticed your confusion, he zoomed the screen and you saw Taehyung in the photo.

“He’s part of underground society way back before he was an artist and that's when I knew him, Y/N. He was one of the people who performed the initiation rites for the new members, and that video you just saw? It’s what he does for the society he’s in.”

You can’t believe it, you refuse to believe it. Taehyung won’t do that. He won’t harm—

“Why do you look so shocked?” He asked with a grin on his face, mocking you. “You should know that, as his best friend.” 

“That’s not him.” You said, trying more to convince yourself. “Taehyung can’t do that. He won't take part in that kind of behavior.”

“Then you don’t really know your friend.” He placed his phone back in his pocket. “Stop being too naive, Y/N. Everyone has their own secrets to keep.” 

“Do you really think that I would believe you? Whatever shit you’re trying to pull, you won’t make me believe you.” You said in your sharp tone.

“But the people will.” He took a step towards you with a smirk on his lips. 

“You may refuse to believe it but the people will. They will believe so easily in whatever’s happening in that video.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat resonating with the intensity of the madness you feel. You never felt this kind of anger before. It’s too much that you wanted to kill him.

“What do you want?! What do you really want!” Your rage erupted like a blazing fire, smacking his chest aggressively. You keep on smacking and pushing him, while he doesn't even show any hint of pain. “Why are you doing this to me!” you shouted, tears welling up in your eyes and when you got tired, your hits became slower until you decided to stop. 

Jungkook held your wrist and looked at your eyes with intensity. You cannot resist him anymore because you’re too tired. 

“What do I want?” He repeated the question while staring at your eyes. “It’s simpler than you think.” His words were soft as a smile formed on his mouth. “I want you, Y/N.” 

You sob before you release your wrist from his grip. “I can’t have another session with you. You’re not cooperating.” You respond, letting out a weary sigh.

“That’s not what I mean.” He shook his head, slowly scanning your face down to your body. “I want you without your clothes, laying down while I am on top of you.”

You immediately shook your head. “No fucking way. I won’t let you do that.” 

“Then you agreed to let me upload your illegal voice recordings with your patients along with the video of your best friend, beating the hell out of an innocent man. I bet the people will love to see what their idol really is, right?”

You’re already bursting out of tears, shaking your head. “Please don’t involve him anymore.” 

“It’s your own fault, Y/N. The only thing that I want is a session with you until I recover, yet you pushed my limits. Now, you have to face the consequences of your actions.” He takes a step towards you, leaning forward to see your face full of tears and wipe them using the both of his finger thumb. You hit his arms and took a step backwards.

“You’re sick.” You turn around to gather your things and when you’re about to leave, he speaks.

“I’m telling you, you don’t want to test me because you wouldn’t like the ending.”

—

That same night, you didn't go home; instead, you went straight to Taehyung's place. He wasn't there because he had a shoot, but you waited. You couldn't wait any longer. You couldn't bring yourself to believe what you had seen unless it came directly from him. You've known Taehyung since birth, and you were certain that the videos and photos you had just seen couldn't be him because you knew he wouldn't do such things.

Yet you don’t understand why you felt betrayed even though you haven’t talked to him.

 When he arrived, that’s the first thing you ask him and it’s too obvious that he didn’t anticipate it. As the longer he can’t respond, the ache you feel worsens.

“Answer me, Kim Taehyung. Are you a member of an underground society?” You repeat the question, emphasizing every word.

“Where did—

“Just answer me!”

Taehyung was taken aback with your screams and a fear is evident in his face. He stood there frozen, unable to move or look away. He sighs before he speaks.

“Yes.”

Your body hunched, eyes closed as a tear streamed down your face. You lowered your body, squatted and your shoulders shook with each shuddering sobs.

“Y/N, w-why?” Taehyung immediately went to you but when his hand landed on your shoulder, you stood up, immediately pushing him away.

“You beat people, Taehyung! You beat them to death, you monster!” 

“Y/N, please let me explain—

“Explain what?! How the fuck you beat them until they die?!”

“It’s not my choice! They were threatening to kill me if I didn’t do what they wanted!”

You glared at him, choosing not to respond. 

“I thought it was a normal organization when I joined but I was tricked! I tried to leave but they didn’t let me and they even threatened to kill me if I reported them to the police! I was just 17 years old at that time, Y/N! I didn’t know what to do!” 

He was trembling as a tear formed in his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because I was scared that they would involve you. It’s a trap.”

“So you were still involved with them?” Your voice raised and he immediately shook his head.

“No! I managed to get away when we were caught doing the initiation rite, but I managed to run away without being caught. I wasn’t the one performing the initiation rite during that time so it was easy for me to run away.” He explained.

You only stare at him, imagining the 17-year-old Taehyung standing in front of you. During that time, you don't remember anything that may hint he was in danger. The only Taehyung you saw was the jolly and energetic Taehyung, not knowing that he was facing a dangerous situation.

Little did you know that 12 years from now, you’d also face the same situation like he does.

You took a step towards him and wrapped your arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably. You can’t imagine he faced that problem all by himself at that age. You were supposed to be with him as he faced his battles, but he was all alone. 

“Why didn’t you tell me even after you managed to run away?” You spoke, choked sobs wracked your body as he stroked your back gently. 

“It’s okay, it’s all in the past.”

You were in that position for a few moments until you calmed down. You break away from him and wipe your own tears. 

“How did you find out?” with that, you’re back from reality, the reason why you are here. 

“I saw a video of you beating a man. That’s how I found out.” His mouth hung open as his breath came in short.

“Where did you watch it?”

"An anonymous sender sent me the video. I couldn't bring myself to save the video because I can't bear to watch it again, so I deleted it," You reason out. You can’t tell him the truth because it will only complicate things more. “But I already reported it to the authorities and a security specialist and they guarantee that the person responsible for it will be caught.”

You felt bad for lying but you can’t tell him the truth. It wasn’t a good idea to confront him about this manner in the first place but you were not in your right mind when you decided to go here. You were caught off-guards. 

You just need to make sure that no one will see that video again. How? That’s also something you don’t know yet. 

—

Jungkook hasn’t bothered you lately, and it only worsens your anxiety. You know him and he won’t simply stop. You don’t know what’s his next move but soon, he’ll come after you. 

You always check what’s trending on social media, watching out for any news that can relate to you and Taehyung, but you’ve always found nothing. You even checked on Jungkook’s latest activities on their media pages and there’s nothing suspicious, yet you can still feel the lash that Jungkook tied on your neck.

You’re on your way for a book interview because your newest book entitled ‘The Paradox of Choice’ is about the launch. You’re nervous and you’re overthinking everything without a specific reason why. 

The feeling you felt right now is different from your previous book launching because right now, you don’t feel good. 

Maybe because you've been stressing lately with what’s happening right now or maybe because something is going to happen.

You wish it wasn’t the latter. 

“Three more minutes!” The crew announced.

This book launch is coming along with an interview at an evening talk show. You’ve experienced guesting in several talk shows yet, you felt so anxious that your trembling worsened as the minute passed by.

“Hey, are you okay?” Your assistant held your hand as you stood up. You looked at her and gave her a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Yes, I am okay.” 

As you get closer towards the stage, your heartbeat increases. You pause for a while and take a deep breath, while closing your eyes. 

You can do this.

“Good evening, Dr. Y/N! How are you doing?” Park Jimin—the host asked you with a wide smile on his face.

“I’m great, how are you?” you try to connect the level of your energy to his. 

“I’m great as well! Are you ready? I know you won’t get too nervous since you have been a guest in several talk shows and interviews, right?” Oh, how you wish that’s your case.

“Of course! I look forward to this!”

You had a few talks with Jimin, explaining how the show will flow and you also reviewed the possible questions that he’s going to ask you. You were starting to get comfortable being on the stage. The rolling is about to start when your eyes land on a familiar figure wearing a black hoodie along with a headphone on his head. Your eyes widened in a complete terror, as your pulse raced with each thudding heartbeat.

Jeon Jungkook is here, staring at you with a demonic smile on his face.

“Rolling! We’ll begin in 3… 2… 1.” He was looking at you while he spoke on his headphones. Your surroundings turned into a blur as you felt that every movement was in slow motion. You notice that Park Jimin is already talking with so much energy and you try to wake yourself up.

“What inspires you to write this book? Was there a particular experience or realization that led to its creation?”

You grip your hand to stop its trembling before you answer. “People tend to choose their biggest life decisions when they are in an emotional state, and this book will teach everyone to always think twice or even thrice whenever they make big decisions for themselves. I, myself once experience choosing a decision that I wish I did not choose, and it lend me to regrets, which I don’t want people to experience that’s why I wrote ‘The Paradox of Choice.’” 

You try not to look at Jungkook after you respond but your own eyes are betraying you. There’s a sly smile on his lips as his eyes bore into you. 

You fucking hate it when his eyes are on you.

“How did you research and gather information for your book? Can you describe your process?” You froze on your seat when Jimin asked you that question. Your hands tremble even more, gripping it tightly to stop. You glance at Jungkook who’s standing meters away from you, playing his lips with his fingers. 

You don’t want to answer this because your method of gathering information for your book is what he obviously uses against you.

‘I record the sessions with my patients and analyze it to add an input to the book.’

It was the answer that you cannot say while he’s watching. 

Instead, “I did my own research with the help of my patient’s own experiences.”

Even in your peripheral view, you could still feel his eyes digging into your soul.

Once the shoot is done, you immediately storm out of the stage and lock yourself inside the comfort room for god knows how long. 

You stood before the sink, hands outstretched beneath the gentle stream of cool water pouring from the faucet as it ran down to your hands. 

You slowly rub both of your hands but the trembling of it isn’t stopping. You rub it even further to steady your hands, until you suddenly outburst silently. You can’t scream or cry, and the only thing you can do is endure the anger you feel right now. 

The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the space with white glow, opposite of what you feel right now. Your hands are still trembling as you look at your face in the mirror. 

You look so horrible. 

When you’re stressed out because of your workloads, you can still appreciate the beauty you have, but right now, you really look so miserable. 

Jungkook is doing his excellent job in fucking you up. 

This is driving you insane. He’s driving you insane. You’re fed up with all of his shit and it’s too much already. You don’t even know what you did wrong for him to do this to you. The only thing you did is help him cope up with his trauma–or more like fake traumas. 

So you don’t know where you went wrong with him. 

Your assistant called your name on the other side of the door, asking if you’re fine which you’re not. You did your best to calm down before you decided to come out. 

It’s almost midnight when you’ve finished packing your things and ready to leave. Everyone’s out already and you don’t know who was left. You’re supposed to go home an hour ago but you choose to rest for a while before you go. 

The basement parking lot was nearly empty when you arrived; not even the guards were visible. But, as you approached your car, you noticed a tall, muscular man standing beside it, wearing a black hoodie, with both of his hands inside his pockets, clearly waiting for you.

He looked up when he noticed your presence, he stood straight, greeting you with a smirk on his face. 

“What took you so long?” Jungkook asked, a sly smile still on his face. 

“What do you want?” You pondered, glaring at him. 

He scoffed, “You always ask the same question over and over even though you already know the answer.” 

You didn’t respond, ignoring him, as you walked towards the driver’s seat but before you even opened the door, he already blocked you. 

“Don’t ignore me while I’m talking to you.” He threatened, eyes buried on you. 

“I have no more business with you.” You answered, passing by him as you opened the front door. 

“As far as I remember, we still have business going on.” He said, provoking you even more. 

You placed down your things on the passenger seat and before you could even hop on, he spoke.

“You’re brave enough to ignore me now. Why? Do you think I’m already done with you?” His voice dripped with a mocking undertone, a wry smirk played on his lips as he spoke.

“Or you’d be glad to see you and your best friend in the news by tomorrow morning?”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him as you balled your fist. “I’ve already done what you want. I let you continue our remaining sessions but you go beyond that and pester me for almost 3 times a week! What more do you want?!” 

He tilted his head, licking his lips, trying his best to hide his teasing smile. He clicked his tongue before he spoke. “That's the second time you ask that question. Do you have other questions in mind that you’d like to ask?” 

“When will you ever stop?” He instantly laughed at your question. 

“You didn’t even hide the fact that you already want me out of your life.”

“I never try hiding it.”

“You’re becoming stronger and bolder now, Y/N. Well, I prefer this rather than seeing you crying your ass out begging me to stop. Unless, you’re crying as you scream my name.” He wore a suggestive smirk, provoking you even more.

“You’re sick!”

“You’ve been asking what I want and I’ve already told you, Y/N. I hate it when I keep repeating myself. You’re not stupid, you know that.” He arched a brow, a scornful stare bore into you. 

“And you’re delusional if you think I’d agree with that.”

“Then suit yourself and make sure that you won’t regret your decision.” He smirks, biting his lower lips.

“What are you gonna do?” You asked but when he didn’t answer and turned away, you screamed at him. 

“Jungkook, what the fuck are you going to do?!”

He scoffed before he looked back. “You’ll see.”

—

You want to die.

You just fucking want to die and bring Jungkook along with you.

Your emotions churned like a violent sea, a mix of anxiety, anger and fear that threatened to overturn you. Your heart pounded with rage, and your fingers trembled with fear as you held your phone, trying to avoid dropping it.

A video posted on twitter is playing from your phone, a video that you saw a few days ago.

You felt like throwing up when you saw that video again. Taehyung's face is blurred, but you can tell it's him. People might struggle to identify the person beating up an innocent man, but it won't take long for them to figure it out.

‘I wonder if you guys have any hint of who’s that man on the video? I bet you guys know because you love him so much. But I also wonder if you know your idol’s true color.’

The caption says, and the account is made to specifically attack and throw hate to people.

This could be Jungkook, but you weren't certain because he could have asked others to do it to avoid implicating himself. He has a reputation to maintain as well.

101k views, 5k reposts and 26k likes. 

‘Holy shit. Why do I feel like it’s Beom Seok from Horizon?’

‘This should be taken down.’

‘Eun Dae used to be a member of a fraternity before he become an idol lmaooo’

‘Taehyung was also rumored to be part of a frat before but it hasn't been proven yet.’

Fucking hell. Taehyung must know this shit already and you don’t know what to do. It should be taken down but the video was posted 2 hrs ago and you just saw it right now. Even though it was taken down, people already saved it from their devices.

You were still in the middle of breaking down when your phone rang, and when you saw the caller ID, your blood erupted.

It was Jeon Jungkook. You scream on your phone before you decline the call. You were about to turn your phone off when he sent a message that angered you even more.

‘Decline the call one more time, you will see the video again and I will make sure that the face of Taehyung is visible for everyone to know that it’s him.’

Your hands grew cold and started to shake when your phone rang once again. You had been clenching your teeth before deciding to answer the call.

“How are you, Doc?” He greets you in his sweet voice that only annoys you even more. “Do you think that I wouldn’t do it?” He added, releasing a sarcastic laugh. 

“Take it down, Jungkook.” Your words dripped with menace. 

“You’re the one who made me do it. It’s your fault, Y/N.”

“You monster! Why do you have to involve him?! He didn’t even do anything!” You screamed, pulling your hair out of anger.

“I know but you care for him so much. It’s a natural thing to involve him.”

Your tears run through your cheek as you collapse from the ground. You’re starting to lose your sanity. 

“What do you want?” You spoke in a low voice.

“You want to know? Come here at my place and I will let you know, Y/N.”

—

You’ve expected that Jungkook is living in a high end luxurious apartment building but you didn’t expect that it would be in the highest floor, a penthouse. 

Jungkook noted that he left the door unlocked so you can enter without him opening it for you. You were scared of what could happen inside his penthouse given the fact that he’s a dangerous person by murdering his own mother but you’re desperate to stop him. 

Your heart was pounding when you opened his double-door and as expected, it was unlocked.

You are greeted by a huge area of floor-to-ceiling windows that frame breathtaking panoramic views of the whole city lights. The living room is adorned with designer furniture, a monochromatic symphony of blacks, grays, and whites, and a wall adorned with abstract art that speaks Jungkook's taste.

The place is beautiful, opposite to the person living in here. 

“You came.” You immediately turned around when you heard his demonic voice behind. He’s in the corner of the stairs from the second floor as he slowly steps down, hands in his pocket with a smirk on his lips. 

“Take that video down.” You glared, speaking with your teeth.

“Or else, what? Are you going to report me again? ” He stopped in the middle of the stairs, placing his hands on the railings. He scoffs when you don't respond. “You should know by now that it won’t work, Y/N.” He added, continuing to step down. 

“I’m already here, so tell me what the fuck do you want?” You raised your voice, itching to know what he really wants. 

“Why are you in a hurry, Doc?” He was about to touch your face when you blocked his hands, throwing it away.

“Take that video down, Jungkook.” You spoke, trying to contain yourself. 

He smirks before he turns away and takes a step towards his kitchen island, pouring wine on his wine glass. 

"I've already done that for being such a good and obedient girl." He sips on his wine, not breaking eye contact with you. “But I can upload it again if you choose to test my patience.” He adds. You bite the inside of your lower lips to prevent yourself from attacking him. 

“Why did you even ask me to be here?” 

“Didn’t I tell you before? I want you, Y/N.” 

He poured wine in another glass and walked towards you, handling the wine for you, but you just glanced at it and returned your gaze to him.  

“Let’s not waste time and tell me what the fuck you want so I can leave now.” You said in gritted teeth.

“I already told you, so stop being stubborn and drink this wine before I change my mind and upload the video with your best friend's face clearly visible along with the illegal recordings you had with your patient.” In an instant, he shifted from a playful smirk to a sudden seriousness, dropping the playful facade. 

You take the wine in his hands and he asks you to drink but you immediately shake your head. “I’m not going to let you poison me.”

“If I’m going to do that, I already did when I first walked into your office. It’s easier to kill you than to kill my mother, if that’s what you want to hear.” His words sent shivers down your spine, forcing yourself to sip in the glass as the taste of rich, velvety smoothness of the wine caressed your tongue. He smirks when he is satisfied with your sip. 

“See, you’re still alive.” 

He turned around taking a step forward and telling you to follow him, but when you didn’t, he looked back and his unyielding gaze bore into you. “Are you coming or do you want me to drag you from where you stand right now?”

You swallow hard, trying not to prevent yourself from showing any signs of fear, but it was harder than you thought because you’re in his territory. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Your words come out as a whisper but he was able to hear it and when he does, he grins. 

“Why, are you scared?” He took a sip from his wine, eyes fixed on you. “To answer your question, no, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Then where are you taking me?” 

“We’ll have dinner, now start to move before I drag you to the dining table.”

You indeed had dinner with him and several dishes were served on the long table. By just looking at what is served, you immediately remember that you hadn’t eaten anything yet since morning and everything you see is appetizing. The whole dining room was magnificent. The space was bathed in a war, golden glow of crystal chandelier that hung from a high, ornate ceiling. If you were in a different situation, you’d love to stay here.

Obviously, your life’s on the line and you can’t just eat and relax right now. 

“Don’t you like the food? Why aren’t you eating much?” He asked before he took another bite of his steak.

You’ve tasted what’s in front of you and it was so insanely good, but you can’t eat much by just thinking of what situation you have right now. 

"I'm not hungry," you reasoned out, then sipped your glass of water. You glanced around to see if there was anyone else in the vicinity, but you saw nothing, not even maids or cooks. It was the perfect opportunity for him to kill you, with no one else around except the two of you.

“I doubt. I know that you haven’t eaten anything. Go and enjoy your meal. It won’t harm you.” You only stare at your plate, trying to wash away the negative thoughts you have. You took another bite of your steak and you can’t help but to crave more on how it tastes so good. 

“I could tell that you like the steak, but you’re having a hard time enjoying it. I wonder what’s running through your mind.” He placed both of his elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers. 

“Will you let me go after this meal?” Your question made him chuckled, loud and mocking. 

“Here you go again, so desperate to leave me.” He commented, wiping the corner of his lips with a table napkin. 

“If you just tell me what you’re planning to do, then I wouldn’t keep asking you.” You answered, taking a sip of your water. 

“This is the plan you’re asking about. Didn’t I tell you before that I wanted to take you out for dinner to show my gratitude for being my therapist? That’s what I’m doing right now.” He grabs his wine glass and leans back before he whirl the glass, taking a sip from it.

“That’s it? That’s what you want? To take me out for dinner?” You asked like you can’t believe what he just said. 

“Why, what do you expect?” He placed his elbow on the arm rest and played with his lips; the mannerisms he does when he’s enjoying something. 

“You must be kidding me right now. I know you want something more. I know you, Jungkook. I know you.”

“If you claim to know me so much, then you should know that I am serious with what I want from you.” His eyebrow furrowed, gazing at you with intensity. “That’s the problem with people like you. You think too much and it leads you to danger.” He scoffs.

He stood up from his seat and took a step towards you, while you didn’t move an inch from your position. 

“From the moment I walked into your office, I know from myself that I want you. With your long hair falling back beautifully to the tight black dress you wore, I immediately agreed to take the sessions with you.” He stood beside you from your seat, resting his hands on the backrest of your chair while you were there, completely frozen. 

“Hoseok and my lawyer Namjoon told me that I should act like the incident causes me trauma to prevent them from suspecting me to be the culprit. I did not agree because it’s bullshit but they keep on convincing me.” He chuckled as he remembered something. “I planned on attending a single session and I won’t show up again but when I saw you sitting on your office chair with a bright smile on your pretty face, I thought that attending sessions with you won’t be that bad after all.”

He caresses your hair and you try not to flinch, clenching your jaw. 

“I do enjoy the sessions we had because you’re so entertaining to watch. You talked as if you know everything but the truth is, you don’t. I just let you think that way because you’re so passionate about what you do. I don’t want to ruin your ego, Doc.” 

He kept on caressing your hair and when you couldn't take it anymore, you stood up, facing him with anger on your face. 

“I’m done with my meal. I’m going home.” You gazed at him with a piercing stare, picking up your things. 

“You think I will let you leave just like that?” An ominous aura surrounded him when `he spoke. You’re trying to strengthen yourself as you take a step towards the door, but before you even made it, he spoke again. “Get back here, Y/N.” He threatened. 

“Stop playing with me, Jungkook.” 

“Try to take another step and I will make sure that before this night ends, your career is over as well as your best friend’s. You know that I can do it, Y/N. You wouldn’t like to test me again.” A cold, sinister flowed from his voice.

You didn’t dare take another step, afraid of provoking him even more. You hate that he can control you with just the use of his words. You still have the lash on your neck, making him take control over you. 

“That’s right, be the good girl that you are, Y/N.” He said, with a smirk on his lips. He placed his hands inside his pocket as he slowly walked towards you. “I don’t understand why you keep giving me that kind of behavior but you can’t stand by it.” He towered over you and he tried to touch your cheek but before he even did it, you avoided his touch and took a step backward.

He smirks, staring at you before he speaks again. “Even if you try to avoid me, I will still find my way to you, Y/N. If I were you, I wouldn't waste my time doing that.” He walks back to the long table and grabs his wine glass and takes a sip on it without leaving his eyes on you. 

You didn’t move nor say anything, observing his movements. You’re at his territory and you couldn’t risk provoking him because he can do anything to you without the people knowing what’s happening inside his penthouse.

He grabbed the new bottle of wine and opened it, filling up your wine glass, walking towards you, and handling you the glass. You only stare at it and Jungkook gestures to you to take it. 

“Hurry up and get it, Y/N. My arms are starting to numb.” He said and you are left without a choice, so you take the wine from his hands. “Go drink it.”

You look at the wine glass and there are a few bubbles underneath it and you swallow hard before you take a sip from it. 

“Finish it up, Y/N. Don’t make me tell you everything you have to do.”

You wanted to cry but you didn’t let your guards down. You’re starting to regret going here. 

You chug the wine while your hands are trembling and he smiles after you finish it. 

“That’s right, you’re such a good girl.” He took the glass from you and placed it back on the table. 

After a few moments, your heartbeat increases rapidly and your whole body starts to tremble. Jungkook was just looking at you as he enjoyed his wine and you suddenly felt so weak, your head started to ache.

There is something wrong with the wine.

You take a deep breath, fighting the weakness within you. You wouldn’t want to show that you’re getting weak in front of him. You walk back to your seat and grab your things before looking at him.

“I really have to go. I have a lot of things to do.” You spoke in your low voice, being careful of your actions.

Jungkook pouted in a sarcastic way. “There’s no way I’m letting you go.” he answered before he smirked. Your headache worsened but you didn’t show any signs of your weakness.

He walked towards you and you admit that you’re getting scared of what he might do. You step back but there is no more space because the table is already bumping your back. He raised his hand to touch your face once again but you blocked his touch.

And in a snap of a finger, he aggressively grabbed your face using only a single hand and his eyes suddenly filled with darkness. “Stop resisting me, Y/N. You can’t win over me.” He spoke in a low but sinister tone. 

Your limbs trembled uncontrollably, unable to withstand the weight of your fear. After a few seconds of staring at your soul with so much intensity, he already released his firm hold on your face but he didn’t move away. Instead, he slowly traces your face with his fingers.

Your weakness worsens and you can’t move nor think anymore. The only thing you can do is let him touch you.

“I love it so much when the cause of your weakness is me.” 

Your eyes widen as you gasp silently when his lips crushes on you. It was hard and you tried to move away but he gripped your arm, unabling you to move. You were trying to push him but because of your weakness, it didn’t even move an inch. 

“Open your mouth, baby girl.” He commands as he speaks in between his kisses. 

“Jungkook s-stop—

“I told you not to fight me.”

His lips went down on your neck sucking your skin and you used all your strength to push him away but he was too strong. He locked your hand on the table as he shifted his kiss on your lips and neck. Your body is shaking and tears are now flowing from your cheek and when he notices it, he stops, staring at you without removing his grip on your hand from the table.

“If you keep being difficult, I fucking swear that you wouldn’t make it out alive and I will make sure that your bestfriend will fall on the ground so hard that he can never recover.” He whispers in your ear, making you stand frozen with a pounding heart. 

You were too weak to fight and you’re sure that it’s not only because he’s dangerous but there is something in the wine you just drank. 

He stares at your face, like memorizing every feature of it. He lifts his hand, slowly wiping your tears away. He traces your face before he moves closer to peck your forehead. His lips were soft on your skin, but it only sent shivers down your spine.

“You don’t have to be scared because I will bring heaven to you.” He whispers before he sucks your ear lobe. 

He held your waist while kissing you, pushing his tongue inside. His lips were so soft and you could taste the bittersweet of the wine he just drank a few moments ago. His hands were traveling around your body while his lips were still on yours. You wanted to push him and run away but you know that you couldn’t do that because before you even reach his gigantic door, you’re probably dead. 

“Do you know how much I crave for you, huh?” He tried to speak in his desperate kisses as his breath became heavier. “From the first time I step in your office, you never leave my head. You fucking drive me insane.”

He lifted you up to the table as his kisses became aggressive and you were just there, being helpless. 

He cupped the back of your neck as he sucked it leaving a bruise before his hands traveled down to your thighs and caressed them. His hands were burning through your skin and you deny that your body starts to burn as well. He lifts you up and your thighs are in between his body carrying you to an unfamiliar room and the next thing you know, you’re already laying down on a bed. 

Your back slowly touched the soft mattress as he started to crawl on the top of you. Your body is trembling and your heart is beating so fast as he brushes your face with the back of his fingers. 

“This is what I really want, Y/N. Me on the top of you.” The room is dark but you could still see the glimpse of his face with how the moon illuminated the darkness of the room. He gently strokes your face down to your neck, until it reaches your chest. He leans forward and places his ears on your chest, listening to your pounding heartbeat. “Just by listening to your heartbeat is enough for me to get turned on.” He whispers in your ears before he brushes his lips to your neck, immediately feelings his hot and wet breaths. 

Your breath rose when you felt his fingers crawling underneath your shirt, fingers wandering at your bare skin. You suddenly flinch when his fingers rub your breast, making him smirk. “You like it when I touch you like this?” He asked in his low and seductive voice, and when you didn’t respond, his fingers circles your nipples slowly causing you to moan. 

You’re wearing a dress and he slowly lifts the end of it, completely taking your dress off and when he did, he gave a peck on your breast before removing your bra. A sudden sense of unwanted pleasure filled your body as he sucked your left breast while massaging the other one, leaving a tingle on your stomach. It didn’t take long before his lips connected on yours, slipping his tongue, letting out another moan. He moves his mouth down to your neck once again, sucking it while his other hand is trailing down your back.

His fingers travel down on the waistband of your underwear, leaving soft kisses. “I’ve always wondered how your bare body looks, and it’s exactly how I imagine. So sexy and gorgeous.” He played with the waistband of your underwear before he slowly pulled it down, leaving you gasping. 

You’re at the verge of crying when he spreads your legs apart, exposing your bare pussy, leaning down and leaving a kiss on your pelvic bone. You tried to push your body deeper in the mattress to avoid his kisses, but he only grips your hips firmly to prevent yourself from moving. “Stop fighting, Y/N.” He said with a stone voice. 

He leaves a last peck on your pelvic bone, moving down on your clit before he kisses it, leaving you panting. You resist yourself from whimpering but when he slides a tongue on your clit, you groan. You were fighting the pleasure that you felt, but the more he keeps on licking your folds, the more your body burns.

"Fuck baby, you taste just like how I imagined it. So sweet for me."

You were disgusted at yourself for feeling something so good, and disgusted at him for doing this to you. 

“You act like you don’t like what you feel, but with how wet you are, it only proves how you love this so much.” He said—almost sounds like a whimper. Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers circling your clit before he slowly inserted it inside. You moan so loud when he moves his fingers as he licks your clit and you cry with the burning sensation radiating to you. 

You weren’t a virgin and you’ve hooked up several times, yet you can’t admit it to yourself that he was doing good eating you out. 

“No matter how you say that you hate me, your body will never lie.” He whispers, as he drag his finger inside and out in a quicker motion. 

No matter how you stop yourself from moaning, that sound escapes your mouth. 

Pain leaves you when he pulls his fingers and when you look at him, he removes his shirt revealing his chiseled and sculpted body. He leans forward to slide his fingers inside your mouth, letting you taste yourself before he slides his tongue. A moan escaped you when he rubbed his fingers on your clit, feeling your wetness, before he inserted his finger once again. 

You’re trying your best not to let out another moan but your body is betraying you because you were moaning in between his lips that you could feel his smirk. 

“Don’t be hard on yourself and let yourself enjoy it, baby girl.”

After a few moments of him fucking your pussy with his fingers, your whimper as you reached your orgasm. You shred a tear when you realize how your own body betrays you. 

He withdraws his fingers as he continues to suck your neck while his hands are circling to your waist down to your hips and grinding his body on you. He then pulls himself to take off the pants that he’s wearing as your body starts to tremble.

You stare at his movements as he pulls down his pants and you gasp when he pulls it down, completely exposing dick. 

His huge, holy shit.

He strokes it and it arouses you even more. You hate yourself right now more than you hate him because you can’t believe that you’re craving it. 

“Please Jungkook, don’t.” Your voice quivered with desperate pleading.

“Stop acting that you’re not enjoying it because your body says otherwise.” He scoffs before he kneels in between your body and pumps his dick, gripping it tightly.

“Spread your legs for me, baby girl.” He commands as he parts your legs. Your eyes widen when you feel that he’s rubbing his dick on your folds as your wetness overflows and a moan is released on your lips. 

“That’s right, moan for me.” He said, almost sound like a whimper teasing you even more and it didn’t take long when he slid his dick inside you making your nails buried on his back. 

“Fuck Y/N, you’re so tight!” He moaned as he went deeper. He placed his hand on your back and a pain filled you when he dug deeper. He was sucking your neck as he kept thrusting in and out. You were pulling his hair, as he groaned on every thrust he made. He stops from time to time to suck your nipples and kiss your lips, making you moan continuously. 

"You're taking me so well, fuck. That's right, take me so well."

You’re starting to cry with the unwanted pleasure you feel but Jungkook only kisses your tears away. And with a hard thrust, you’re about to come. Your breath comes out heavily as you keep on whimpering with every thrust he does. Jungkook curses, his thrust becomes harder and you start to tremble.

“Yes baby, cum all over me and show me how much you enjoyed this.” His words almost sound like a whimper and it only motivates you to reach your second orgasm. 

And when you did, you cried louder as he thrust harder and deeper for the last time. 

—

You were lying on his bed without your clothes, while he was beside you, sleeping peacefully as if he hadn't disrespected you an hour ago. His bed was the softest and most comfortable you had ever experienced, its softness enveloping your body in a gentle embrace. However, all you could feel was disgust and anger at what he had done to you.

 You should be running right now but your body froze and you can’t move them even an inch. It happened three times in a row, and you've been begging him to stop, but he doesn't listen, as if he were possessed by a devil. He's already a monster himself, but you didn't anticipate him forcing you to comply. Most especially, you loathe yourself because your body responds to his desires, leading him to believe that you genuinely enjoy what he's doing, but in reality, you're horrified.

The room is dark, and the moon casts its enchanting glow upon it. You're gazing at the full glass window, where the distant city lights flicker in the distance. An emotional numbness envelopes you, leaving you unstable and broken.

You slowly turn towards the person beside you, and as expected, he's asleep. You can't believe how different he appears when he's sleeping, nothing like the person you know. Instead, he resembles a man who wouldn't harm a soul when his eyes are closed. However, the burning anger you feel hasn't subsided. You can never forget what he has done to you. 

The anger surged within you and you wanted to lash out, to make him feel the same pain he has caused you. You clenched your fist and the thought of killing him gnawed at the edges of your sanity. 

You looked around to find something to protect yourself from him. Slowly, you raised yourself from lying down, careful not to make any movements that might wake him up. With trembling hands, you reach your dress from the floor and put it on before scanning the room.

You've been here for quite some time, but this is the first occasion you've had to observe his entire room. As expected, his room is quite spacious, yet you can't discern the color of the walls as darkness covers the entire space. Your eyes catch a glimpse of a chest of drawers in the corner of the room, and above it, there are photographs adorning the wall. As you take a step closer, your heart rate quickens upon seeing the photos that are affixed to the wall.

The room might be dark but it’s evident that the polaroid photos on the wall are you. There are a lot of photos of you and they are a mix of a photo from your social media accounts and a photo that he took without you noticing it. 

He’s been stalking you for a quite long time already. 

A memory comes back when you’ve felt that someone is looking at you or when you’ve felt like he’s around and you brush it all away believing that you were wrong but it all makes sense because he’s been stalking you and you don’t have any idea of it. 

Your trembling hands worsened as your jaw clenched, turning around with your eyes glared at his sleeping figure.

Your anger consumes you, and with every fiber of your being, a raw, primal fury pulses, urging you to harm him. As your rage intensifies, a dark abyss opens in your mind, and your thoughts race. You take a step toward the bed where he's lying down as your heart thunders in your chest.

‘You fucking monster.’

Even if there isn’t enough light, you still manage to look around to find something. You returned to the chest drawer opening it and you gasped as you saw more photos inside. You didn’t try to look at them one by one focusing on finding something.

‘I will fucking kill you’

From the drawer, you walked around and opened every cabinet inside his room to find something you’re looking for and when you did, your body suddenly froze. 

A gun.

With your heavy breaths and trembling hand, you took it out from the drawer and took a moment to stare at it. 

But before you’ve processed everything, you heard a voice speak.

“My little Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?” 

You immediately stood up, turned around, and saw Jungkook standing 7 feet away from you. The room was so dark that you couldn't see his face, but you could make out his silhouette. He was wearing pants but nothing on top.

You pointed the gun at him but he only laughed it out. Your entire body froze as you pointed the gun firmly on him and your heartbeat echoed loudly on your ears. Your breath came short, as if your lungs were struggling to keep up with your racing thoughts.

He walked slowly toward the bedside table and switched on the lamp, causing the room to fill with a warm glow. It wasn't very bright, but it was enough for both of you to see each other.

He grins as he sees that you stepped back, holding the gun firmer when he took a step towards you. 

You’re shaking so bad but you can’t hold your guards down because anything can happen in just a matter of seconds. 

“What, you’re gonna shoot me after I satisfy you?” He said with a grin on his lips. 

“I’m going to kill you.” Your voice is low but every word you say is sharp enough to show that you’re serious but he only scoffed at your words.

“Really, you’re going to do that?” His voice was seductive, provoking you even more. 

You try to find any signs of fear on his face but you find nothing. Instead, it only worsens your emotions. You weren’t sure if the gun that you’re holding is loaded and you only pray that it does. 

It’s your first time holding a gun and you don't have any idea of how to use it but your life is in danger and you have to act accordingly. 

You cocked the gun and pointed it out at him once again. 

“Do you even know how to use that?” He pouted as if he cares but it was full of mockery and sarcasm. 

“Don’t come near me.” You whispered as you held the gun firmly.

“Come on Y/N, don’t embarrass yourself.” He took a step back and sat at the edge of the bed, while his eyes were on you. “We both know that you aren't capable of doing that. Didn’t I satisfy you enough?” 

“Shut up.”

“As far as I remember, you love it so much when I eat you out. Did I think that wrong?” He rested his hand on the mattress behind him. “I love every reaction that you make when you feel so good. I love it when you dig your nails on my skin because you can’t contain the stimulation. And by how you feel so weak with my touch and kiss–

“Shut the fuck up!”

Your heart raced, your body trembled and a cold sweat broke out on your forehead. your thoughts worsen into chaos and an overwhelming dread washed over you. You can’t take the words he said. You just wanted him to shut up.

He stares at you with so much intensity, like he can see through your soul. “You should’ve checked if the gun was loaded, babe.” He commented shifting his gaze to the gun you’re holding. 

You shook your head as you pressed your lips firmly. “You monster. I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Then kill me,” He spoke in his low voice. “Shoot me, Y/N.” He slowly stands up and walks towards you, making you step backwards. You panicked even more but you tried your best to stay still and point the gun towards him. 

“Show me how brave you are, Dr. Y/N.” Your back bumps into the cabinet behind you when there is no more space for you to step back as you were shaking so badly and you can no longer hold your tears. He pressed his chest on the muzzle of the gun while looking at you with so much intensity. 

In the blink of an eye, he firmly grabs your arm, attempting to wrest the gun from your grip, but you hold it even more tightly. You push him using your elbow, but he chokes you, and you tremble in pain. He's strong, but your determination is unwavering, and you won't lose to him this time.

You step forcefully onto his right foot, and when he shows his weakness, you swiftly break free from his grasp. However, he manages to trip you, causing you to fall and drop the gun.

You immediately crawl to get the gun but he pulled your leg away from it. 

“You can never escape me, Y/N!” He spoke as his hands circled around your neck. 

Your eyes were starting to blur, preventing you from seeing anything for a few moments. A sense of helplessness washed over you until your eyes caught the gun a few inches away from you. He was focused on choking you to death while you’re focused on reaching the gun. Desperation clouded your thoughts, urging you to stay stronger and when you finally reached the gun, you immediately pulled the trigger in his direction. 

You stood up when he released you, as a searing pain tore through his body upon being struck by the bullet, leaving him gasping for breath. You held the gun firmly while he endured the pain in his rib that had been hit by a bullet.

You cocked the gun one more time and pointed at him. 

You panted heavily as a panic gripped you, the inability to catch your breath adding to the rising sense of fear. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to let a sound escape his lips. 

He pressed his hand on his rib, looking at you with the same eyes that you despise so much. Despite being shot, he can still manage to look at you with mockery. 

"Do you believe that after what you've done, you have already… won?" He smirks as he slowly falls on the ground, enduring his physical pain. “I was in your position months ago. Holding a… gun as I shoot my mother. How ironic that the person… who tried to heal me was also the person… who would try to kill me.” He felt an agonizing, relentless throbbing at the site of the gunshot trying to ease the pain. He tried to stand up before he continued. “You’ve said a lot of times that my actions are… bad but look at you right now… Doing the same… thing.” 

“We’re not the same!” You shouted, holding the gun with your two hands. “You ruin my life, you monster!” You felt a seething rage, a burning intensity that threatened to overtake you. 

He only smirks at your response. “Really? Because last time I checked… I shoot my mother for being the monster that she is.” 

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to me!” Your fingers were trembling, itching to pull the trigger. 

“You might keep on denying it but we both know the truth.” Even in his situation, he can still play with a sinister smile on his lips. 

“You’re fucking wrong—

“Come on, Y/N! Look at you!” His eyes blazed with fiery, smirking at you as he cut you off. “You’re just like me! We’re really meant to be!” You are consumed by fury, your thoughts a turbulent storm of anger as his sinister laugh triggers you even more. Your heart pounded in your chest, tears streaming down your cheek and without you noticing it, you’re shooting him continuously.

“Fuck you! Motherfucker!” 

You continue to curse and pull the trigger even though he's already lying on the ground. Your anger blinds you to the point where you can no longer process your actions.

“I’m not like you! I’m fucking not like you!” You screamed along with every shot you made. Your heart pounded on your chest, as your words dripped with outrage. The only time you stop is when the gun is out of bullets. 

The room was surrounded by blood as you observed his lifeless body lying on the ground. You couldn't recall how many times you had shot him, but judging by the considerable amount of blood scattered about, it was evident that you had shot him numerous times.

Your vision swam before you, blurring the edges of reality as the world around you seemed to spin. You glance at the gun you’re holding and you immediately drop it off. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, making you collapse on the floor. 

Blood. There’s a lot of blood.

The surroundings fell into an eerie silence and a chill ran down your spine. You're suddenly suffocated by fear as you crawl backward.

He’s dead. I killed him.

The only thing that you hear is the ticking sound of the clock and nothing else. You slowly look around but the only thing you see is blood. 

“But look at you right now, doing the same thing.”

“You’re just like me! We’re really meant to be!”

You covered your ears as you heard him. He was dead but you can still hear his sinister voice. 

“You can never escape me, Y/N!”

“STOP!”

—

The horizon blazed with a rich, golden hue as the sun's first rays pierced the darkness. Birds whistled as the day began. The air, now filled with the promise of warmth and life and with each passing moment, the sky emerged from its darkness.

Yet the horror you’ve made is still there. 

You’re under the glass window, watching the world to start its day. The room is still covered in blood–your body is still covered in blood. The sun has risen yet you wanted to stay in the dark. You don’t know what to do anymore. 

You suddenly heard the ringtone of your phone, making you feel more vulnerable. You covered your ears to prevent yourself from hearing it yet the sound seems to hunt you. 

After the call dies, you thought that it won’t ring again but before you can even have a peace of mind, it rang once again. 

Your legs tremble when you stand up. You do your best not to look at the corpse laying on the ground as you walk out of the room. 

His living room is exactly how it looked the last time you saw it. You look around to see any living thing but you sense nothing. Your phone is still ringing when you spot it on the top of the dining table where you ate last night. 

Where he forced you to drink a wine that made you weak. 

Tears welled up in your eyes when you saw the caller’s ID. 

It was your best friend.

It was Taehyung. 

“Thank god you answered! Where the hell are you?! I’ve been calling you since last night but you aren’t answering! You’re gonna kill me for worrying to you!”

Hearing his voice broke you down. Your tears flowed continuously as an uncontrollable emotion poured out on you. 

“Y/N, what happened? Why are you crying?” A deep concern is evident in his voice. 

You were shaking, crying with broken sobs as you covered your mouth in an attempt to calm down.

“Y/N! Speak up! What’s wrong?!”

“Tae… Please help me.” You attempt to speak. 

“Where are you? I’m going there.”

“Taehyung.”

“Y/N, what happened?”

“I made a grave sin.” 

“What?”

Your wailing sobs echoed through the whole area as you fell on your knees. He keeps asking what happened but you’re having a hard time admitting it. 

“Y/N, how am I going to help you if you can’t tell me?”

After a few moments, you started to calm down. Your sobs gradually subsided, a quiet hiccup escaped you as you closed your eyes briefly.

“I killed a man.” The words escape your lips and a new set of tears forms on your eyes. 

You never thought that you would resort to killing him. Out of all the things that happened, you wanted to end everything without harming anyone. You’re a well-known psychiatrist who has an advocacy that despite of who you are and what you’ve become, your mental health matters. 

You know yourself well. You know your strengths and weaknesses, and the cause of your happiness and sadness. But that’s what you thought. 

You can’t control your emotions. 

No matter how you try, you will always have a hard time controlling it.

There are a lot of reasons why people act without thinking when they are emotional. According to a study, physiologically, emotions can activate the body's fight-or-flight response. When emotions trigger this response, stress hormones like adrenaline flood the system, preparing the body to respond to perceived threats. This physiological reaction can reduce the ability to think clearly and may lead to impulsive actions.

“Where are you?” After a long pause, Taehyung finally spoke. 

“At Jeon Jungkook’s place. One of my patients.” You respond in a low voice. 

“Message me the exact address and I’ll be right there.”

You weren’t in your right mind when you pulled the trigger. You didn’t like what happened. 

Therefore, you weren’t just like him. 

It was his fault, after all.

-end-

a/n: finally, it's complete! Thank you so much for joining me in writing this JK fic. It's my first time delving into the thriller genre, and I've truly enjoyed the experience. I also hope that you all enjoy reading it as well. Have a great day, everyone!

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