They Who Admit Defeat . Sae Itoshi

꒷♡꒷ TREAT YOU BETTER!

♰ featuring: sae itoshi + rin itoshi (mentioned) [blue lock]

♰ note: this one is a DOOSY and i'm not even kidding when i say it took me 9 hours and 45 minutes to complete this, over the course of two days of course. However, as my first time ever writing on tumblr, i decided to go all out! that being said, it would mean a lot to me if you would support this work by reading, liking, and reblogging!

sypnosis: why be with his lukewarm little brother when you could be with him instead? wc: 6.6k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. fem/fem-bodied reader. POST BLUE LOCK. sibling rivalry. implied thick/chubby!reader. sae is mean. jealous!sae. bully!sae. rin is 19. sae is 21. CHEATING. degradation. unprotected sex. fingering. squirting. rough sex. DUBIOUS CONTENT. spanking. dacryphilia. slut shaming. groping. implied size kink. minor angst. hair pulling. ONE face slap. pussy slapping.꒷꒦

Coming home for the holidays, birthdays, or other special occasions is somewhat of a family tradition that enables people to slow down and focus on spending quality time with loved ones. These kinds of celebrations give families that may otherwise be estranged from one another due to work or geography the chance to reunite and enjoy each other's company. And this reasoning was no different in the Itoshi household. What was the occasion for this month’s gathering? Well, it was Mama Itoshi’s birthday, of course!

You see, you have known Rin and Sae Itoshi since you were all very young. Your mothers were best friends, and by default, that meant that you three would become close as well.

Growing up with the Itoshi brothers, on the other hand, was . . . interesting, to say the least. Where Rin found your presence to be refreshing, Sae found you to be a nuisance. You didn’t care for football; you got in the way of his practice; and you were a girl. He always thought you were too weak to play with, and he didn’t hesitate to make his feelings known to you. Pulling your hair until you screamed, pushing you around when you weren’t even in his way, and calling you mean names until your little E/C eyes welded up with fat tears were just some of the things he would do to torment you. Had it not been for little Rinnie stepping in and protecting you from his brother’s outright bullying, Sae most likely would’ve continued until you cried to your mom about how mean Sae-chan was to you. But you would never do that. Your little crush on him would never allow you to get him into trouble.

Nii-chan! Don’t be too mean to Y/N. You’ll make her inner crybaby come out!

When Sae was especially cruel to you, Rin was always there to lift your spirits. He would tell you not to worry about his "meanie Nii-chan," take your hand and wipe your tears and snotty face, and lead you up to his room where you two could watch movies and play action figures away from his brother's taunts. Even if he could not take you away right away, for instance, if you three were at the park, he would always come and ride the swings or the big slides with you just to make you happy. Despite Sae’s every protest about how you were nothing more than a distraction to him, Rin, and football, you knew that your friendship was sincere and unbreakable.

As you three went through the ups and downs of childhood, you also weathered the storms of adolescence together. Sae left for Madrid, leaving you, Rin, and your previous feelings for his older brother behind to navigate the social awkwardness of junior high and share in each other's accomplishments while he was with his football team and you were at your respective clubs. Your friendship was a source of strength during those formative years, providing solace and understanding when the world seemed confusing.

As you two approached your high school years, something began to change. Accidental touches felt more like fleeting sparks, while innocent glances became lingering stares. Neither of you fully comprehended your newfound feelings, tiptoeing around the unsaid emotions that seemed to glimmer between the two of you until the day Rin asked you to be his just before entering Blue Lock. Now, for the past three years, you have been a happy couple, embarking on the dreaded hell of adulthood and the next chapter of your lives hand-in-hand.

Back in the present, the two of you were glad that Rin finally had some downtime from soccer—well . . . more so you than him. Even after the events of Blue Lock, he and Sae remained rivals, seizing any opportunity they could to humiliate each other on the field. That being said, Rin was almost always in the gym, meditating, doing yoga, or practicing his skills to pass the time. It was nice to be able to spend time together without the stress of his next upcoming game or press conference.

Because it was his mother's birthday weekend and all, she would, of course, invite her boys to come to stay with her and their father for the occasion, which included you too since you were Rin’s girlfriend. However, in the few days that you and Rin have already been at his childhood home, Sae had yet to arrive, and no one had heard from him since he texted his mother that he was on his way to the airport to depart. Regardless, the family was busy finalizing plans for their mother's big day. Mr. Itoshi was at the bakery finalizing the details for his wife's cake, Mrs. Itoshi was out for brunch with your mother, and Rin had gone for an afternoon jog because "staying cooped up all day will turn him into a lukewarm lard ass," in his words. As for you? You had just begun to rise, completing some housework in one of Rin’s old jerseys and washing the dishes on which you and Rin had just eaten a delicious breakfast.

After completing your tasks, you made your way back up the lavish stairs of their home with every intention of going back into Rin’s childhood room that you two were sharing for the weekend when you froze. Your gaze traveled to the opposite end of the hallway, to the closed door whose presence loomed in the distance—Sae’s room.

Memories from your childhood flashed back to you, of you watching him and Rin play all too violent and scary zombie video games, rewatching his matches, and, most begrudgingly, the numerous times he nudged your head with his foot and tousled your perfectly styled hair just to get a rise out of you.

Cringing internally at the past memories, you took a further step in the direction of Rin's room before hesitating once more.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a little peek inside Sae’s room, would it?

Despite your better judgment, you shuffled over the closed door and paused with your slender digits loosely encircling the handle. Your stomach churned and your heart thumped in your chest as your inner voice warned you not to enter another person's private space without their consent. But hold on—why were you getting anxious? Who was going to catch you when no one was at home? Turning the knob gently, the heavy oak door would give way with the tiniest of creaks, revealing a rather uninteresting-looking room. But given that Sae had rarely if ever, been home since junior high, it only made sense for it to be so plain. Aside from the plethora of trophies, medals, certificates, and framed photos that lined his dresser, what made it even more amusing was that those were only the leftovers from what could not fit in his trophy case beside his wooden dresser, which housed some of his youth team jerseys and junior trinkets.

You crept further into the cold room, wrapping your arms around yourself, and shuffled over to the plethora of awards from Sae's tireless efforts. As much as you weren’t fond of him, you had to admit that it was beyond admirable that a child was able to accomplish so much in so little time. He possessed a natural talent that professionals would kill for and others were envious of. Even though you were never interested in the sport, you envied him for being so naturally gifted at something he was passionate about.

“Some ‘monster genius’, huh?” You scoffed to yourself as your gaze fell on the last photo of Sae and Rin playing on the same team together before their relationship fell apart. Oh, how you miss those good old days of your youth.

“The fuck are you doing in here?”

Coming from behind you, an all too familiar voice startled you out of your reverie. Turning around, your wide eyes came to rest on Sae's form, which was motionless in the doorway, his stoic visage forever unamused, and his overnight shoulder bag resting by his feet.

When did he come in?

More notably, he’s . . . changed from the last time you’ve seen him since the U-20 vs. Blue Lock game three years ago. He was a bit taller, probably around 6’2” now. Because he was wearing a long-sleeved white compression shirt and gray sweatpants, you were able to see that his muscles were more defined than before, with every ridge and curve pronounced more vividly. His maroon locks had grown a bit longer, with his fringes now reaching slightly beyond his chiseled, clenched jaw, though his bangs remained forever lopsided and flipped back. And his turquoise eyes—had they gotten even sharper since the last time you'd seen them? The way they were glowering down at you, it was almost as though they were piercing right through your very soul.

“You deaf or something, you half-brained moron?”

Your eyes rolled exasperatedly into the back of your head as he rudely interrupted your thoughts. Only ten seconds after you reconnected, here he was spewing insults your way.

“Nice to see you too, Sae.” You grumbled sarcastically, internally dreading what this weekend would hold in store for the both of you.

In response, he hummed, remaining motionless in the doorway as his teal eyes bore into you with something unknown. The truth is, while you were distracted by his physical appearance, he was ogling you in the same manner. You had grown since the last time he’d seen you when you were back in high school. Your once innocent eyes now had a glint in them that could only be described as nubile; your once round cheeks had slimmed a bit to fit your maturing features; and your body . . . Damn, have you really grown over the years. You had developed a more feminine frame, with fuller thighs, widened hips, larger breasts, and a more prominent ass. You had developed into a truly breathtaking young woman, despite how much he hated to admit it.

“Almost thought you weren’t going to show at all.” You sighed, lazily checking your nails. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I live here.” His voice was deadpan and monotone, yet it held an underlying hint of irritation. “All these years have passed since grade school, and you’re still as braindead as when you were a child.”

“And you’re just as much of an asshole as you used to be.”

You resisted the urge to sneer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he was getting under your skin, as you dropped your arms to your sides. When you made this motion, his brows would furrow, and he would cast a scrutinizing glare at your choice of clothing.

Talking to him was futile, and you did not want to be in this room any longer than necessary now that he was there. “Good to have you home, genius.” You spat sarcastically, attempting to push past him to exit the room, when all of a sudden his large hand would seize your bicep, halting your steps.

Your head snapped to him, your gaze a mixture of frustration and confusion as your lips parted to shout a rebuttal his way; however, upon seeing the blazing fire that had ignited in his eyes, you hesitated. His eyes narrowed to thin slits, like two fiery coals burning fiercely within his sockets. The intensity of his gaze was enough to send shivers down your spine, making you acutely aware of the gravity of his sudden wrath. His jaw clenched tightly, showing the strain of controlling his rage, and his brows furrowed, forming a menacing V-shape above his oculars.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He seethed through clenched teeth, his voice deep and full of poorly contained malice.

You blinked. Your jaw dropped as you gawked at him, beyond perplexed. He had caught you so off guard that even you had to check what you were wearing to make sure you were not wearing anything objectionable. Nothing worth offending—fuzzy black pajama shorts that hugged your plush thighs, plain slippers, Rin's worn-out football jersey.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you coy little slut.”

That silenced you effectively. Your eyes enlarged—almost lamblike—and your pretty lips drew in a subtle gasp. Any previous spark that had been ignited within you had quickly diminished, choosing silence over tossing more gasoline onto Sae’s roaring flames.

It appeared as though his entire being was directing his wrath into his single, piercing gaze as every muscle in his face tightened with each passing second. His lips, which are typically flat or curved into an unamused frown, were now deep-set, corners tugging into an awful scowl.

“Why are you wearing that lukewarm loser’s jersey?” When you should be wearing mine?

Now it was your turn to be infuriated as he insulted your boyfriend—his brother—the same person he had thrown out like garbage all those years earlier. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you could hear your blood pumping in your ears.

“So I’m not allowed to wear my own boyfriend’s jersey now, fuckface?” His gaze faltered. “You going to call me names for that too, Sae? Pull my hair? Spit in my face? Huh?”

“*What did you just say?”

“I said are you going to—”

“No, you cow-titted bimbo. The first thing you said.” He leaned in closer to your face, his eyes owlish and unblinking since you opened your mouth. You could smell his minty breath from the gum he had been chewing wafting into your face, “Say it again.”

“I’m not allowed to wear my boyfriend’s jersey?” You repeated, confusion etching your tone.

“That.” He snarled, his voice elated in a sick way, as though he had just found out the answer to some legendary riddle.

The hand that had been gripping your bicep now violently jerked you to the side, shoving you into his door. Before you had time to react, he crowded your personal space as his forearm pressed against the wood above your head, allowing you to smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne. “When did that happen?”

The initial fire that fueled his rage now transformed into a different kind of heat, a simmering and bitter envy that gnawed at his insides. He found himself grappling with conflicting emotions - on the one hand, he was somewhat happy that his blockhead of a brother managed to get a girlfriend, but on the other hand, it was you. The same girl that he had been pining over since you were first introduced to him all those years ago. The same girl that he thought was prettiest when she pouted at him with fat tears in her eyes and pleaded with him to be nicer to her. The same girl that consumed his thoughts 24/7. The same girl that he jerked his cock to at night after seeing how her fat tits in that all too small jersey bounced every time she cheered for his brother at that stupid game against Blue Lock. The same girl that, on all of those lonely nights overseas, he wished that, instead of fucking his fist, he was pummeling himself deep in your sopping wet cunt. The same girl that he was about to ruin before his brother got home from his whereabouts.

“Before Blue Lock . . .” Your voice was hushed, barely above a whisper, as though you were afraid of awakening a savage beast.

Three years. Three fucking years, and no one told him?! Not his mother, not his father, not Rin, not your stupid little social media (that he may or may not have been stalking) where you posted pictures of cats, candid photos of your friends, or whatever the fuck you got at your local coffee shop that day—not even you.

His once-obvious fury and visceral expression subsided, simmering beneath the surface in a contained inferno that burned with a ferocity few could fathom. Despite the turmoil raging inside him, he remained eerily calm, his stoic facade masking the storm within.

His demeanor exuded a cold, steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine and, quite frankly, took your breath away. There was an ominous sense of stillness in his presence, as if the air itself dared not disturb the calmness he projected.

“. . . Do you love him?” He spoke in hushed tones, each word enunciated with precision and purpose. There was no need for loud outbursts; the intensity of his calmness alone was enough to make you cower beneath him.

You were dumbfounded by his question, powerless to respond, and yet the longer you remained silent, the more you could see the cracks in his facade begin to scorch through his surface.

“D-Don’t be stupid, Sae. Of course I do, he’s my—”

You would never be able to finish your statement quick enough before his hands were on you, meaty palms digging into your hair, blunt nails scratching against your scalp as he grabbed a visceral hold onto your roots. The searing pain and astonishment coursing through your frame had you shrieking—in what? You didn’t know. Fear? Agony? Guilt?

Using his grip on you as a lead, he would tug you forcefully out of your slippers and down the hall to somewhere unknown. He ignored your screams as the weight atop your head forced your sight to the ground, your manicured nails digging into his wrist and clawing in an attempt to be freed.

“S-Sae, I-I’m sorry! Please, let me go! You’re hurting me!”

He said nothing, his heavy and deliberate footsteps speaking for him before he paused a short distance later. He threw you forward carelessly with surprising strength, causing you to land painfully on the wooden floors in front of you, barely having time to brace yourself with your palms. You had no time to catch your breath, though, as he shuffled over to you with fast-paced footsteps. Looking up fretfully, you would see Sae towering over you, taking notice that you were now on the floor of Rin’s room just before his bed.

“Sae—”

“Sae! Sae! Don’t be stupid; I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He openly mocked you, his lip curled into the faintest of sneers as he glowered down at you in hatred. Although even you could see that there was a bit of hurt behind his cruel teal eyes, “All you do is flap those pretty fuckin’ lips of yours, never knowin’ when to shut your stupid little trap.”

He relished in the way your bottom lip trembled and your eyes grew glassy, the same way they used to all those years ago.

“Still a little crybaby too, I see. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be sorry soon enough for leading me on all this time.” He grumbled, lunging for you again.

He snagged at your roots again, drawing a sob from your lips as he mercilessly dragged you to your feet. Releasing his grip on your hair, he instead chose to grab your jaw harshly in his palm, using his thumb and forefinger to squish your cheeks and pucker your lips so that he may smash his lips against your own. It was messy, sloppy, and full of passion and rage on Sae’s end. He smeared your gloss, claimed your brims, and forced his tongue into your pretty, pliant mouth, all with the intention of claiming you and your maw for his own—but you would never let him.

You belong to Rin! You were loyal to him! So then, why do Sae’s lips feel so damn good against your own right now? This was wrong. So, so wrong, and yet, why did you want more of him?

Your mind was cloudy. Your head was spinning. You couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating you. Your dainty fists beat at his beefy chest and shoulders, trying to get him to get off of you, but to no avail. Instead, he seized both of your wrists in the grasp of his other hand and squeezed painfully in a warning, forcing you to whine against his lips—a delightful sound that went straight to his hardening bulge that he shamelessly pressed against you, grinding sinfully against your hips.

When he finally pulled away from you, you clearly appeared dazed. Your eyes were half-lidded and glassy, yet you were silently pleading for him to give you more. Your plump lips had swollen from his being pressed so forcefully against your own, and a singular strand of saliva still connected your lips to his own—one which he would sinfully lick away with a salacious swipe of his tongue.

The hand he used to grab your face gently shook your head back and forth, his sadistic turquoise hues savoring your already fucked-out expression. “There’s the greedy bitch I know and love. Finally decided to show yourself, huh? What? You want more, hm? What about your little boyfriend, princess?”

“R-Rin . . . I love, Ri—” You were cut off when Sae’s expression flared, his hand releasing your face for naught but seconds before connecting with your cheek in a hard slap. You squealed from the impact, your head whipping to the side in shock, but you could not help but feel strangely aroused by the contact. He grabbed your cheeks in his palm once more and tightened his hold on your face, bringing you closer to him until you were nose to nose.

“Don’t lie to me, you little minx.” He snarled as he cut his eyes at you. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at me after all these years, like you wanted me? Or that I haven’t overheard your stupid little conversations about how dreamy you think I am to your friends, huh? Or how about now, when you swear up and down that you love my loser little brother, when here you are already going stupid on me when I’ve barely even touched you?”

You clenched your eyes shut as hot, guilty tears rushed behind your lids. He’s right. You've wanted him—always have—but it was too late now. You were with Rin, and he was the love of your life. You could not possibly change that, could you?

“Just say it, Y/N.” He chided, his voice softer than it was before, yet it still held it’s cold, irritated undertone. “Say you want me, and I’ll make you feel better than that lukewarm little shit ever has.” He released your face and smoothed his thick digits over the top of your head, stopping only when he could rest his fingers beneath your chin and tilt your head to look up at him. Your gaze focused on him once more.

“ . . . I want you, Sae. B-But Rin . . . ”

Sae hushed you again, pressing his lips against yours. How badly he wanted that name to never again be uttered by your lovely tongue. When Sae pulled away again, there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“We’ll be quick, okay?” A lie. He was going to take his time fucking his brother’s name out of your memory. “He’ll never suspect a thing.”

Your apprehension was palpable, but ultimately you would succumb to sin and let desire and greed rule over logic and reason. You nodded, giving him the nonverbal go-ahead to stomp on the accelerator and never let up.

“Good girl.” He praised you, both hands abandoning your face to now grip at the collar of your shirt. In one swift motion, he ripped Rin’s jersey clean off of you from down the middle. “About time we got that shit off of you. The sight of it was makin’ me sick.” He spat as he tossed the tattered fabric over his shoulder.

You were not wearing a bra, so the violent motion had your breasts bouncing free after being momentarily released from their confines, allowing them to slap softly against the flesh of your rib cage—much to Sae’s viewing pleasure. You grew sheepish as he seemed to freeze, staring so brazenly at your bare breasts that you began to feel a bit self-conscious. Was something wrong? Did he not like them? Was he expecting more? Less?

In reality, the answer was none of the above. The midfielder swore under his breath as he shoved you back onto Rin's cozy comforter. He hastily climbed on top of you and used his body weight to pin you against the bed as his lustful hands began to grope and knead at your supple flesh, eliciting precious mewls with each delightful squeeze. His lips would latch onto one of your breasts as he dipped his head downward; the thumb and forefinger of his free hand would play with the other, teasing your nipples. His sharp teeth bit greedily over the delicate areola as his tongue flicked and laved over the hardening buds. The stimulation only served to heighten your arousal, as evidenced by the way you wailed his name like a sweet song meant only for his ears and how your thighs squeezed together from your excitement drooling from your folds.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Sae, who was busy alternating between pleasuring both of your breasts and growling under his breath, “Lewd fuckin’ body. S’all mine . . .” When he pulled away, there were visible marks left in his wake—light red splotches and indentations of hungry teeth imprinted on your skin.

He reached for the hem of his compression shirt and lifted it above his head, tossing it off to the side as he sat above you, staring lustfully down at you. He would manhandle you further after sliding off of your body. He pulled your shorts down in one motion, grabbed your thick thighs by the backs of your knees, and pushed them up towards your breasts. When he did, he couldn’t help but whistle, admiring how your puffy folds clung together and your inner thighs remained sticky from your translucent arousal.

“Has he ever made you wet like this?” Sae inquired, leering at you from between your thighs like a hungry lion with it’s eyes set predatorily on a helpless gazelle, to which your gaze would quickly avert. You and Rin had such a strong emotional bond that you never felt the need for frequent sex between you two. There were a few times, though, when Rin would fuck you after a winning game in a way that made you see stars, but those were always very far apart.

Your silence was all Sae needed for his answer. He crept back up onto you, chuckling sardonically as he held your thigh up with one hand, using his body to keep your other spread apart. He wanted to see all of your pretty expressions up close and personal when he ravished you. Swiping two of his fingers between your folds, the sudden motion caused your hips to jerk into his touch and you to keen with need.

Slowly, he inserted a single digit inside of you, hissing at how your walls selfishly gripped his fingers and eagerly tried to devour more of him. “Loosen up, will you, greedy slut?” He slapped your thigh with his other hand as your back arched with pleasure. “This tight pussy will never be able to take my cock at this rate.”

You tried to loosen up, you really did, but there was something so delicious—so tantilizing—about his thick, calloused fingers caressing your velvety walls that made you crave more of him. He continued to thrust his single digit inside of you, his teal oculars peering into your own with such intensity that it forced you to look away.

“Stop that.” His hand that grabbed the back of your knee slithered along your outer thigh until he could grasp your chin and force you to look back at him. “Eyes on me.” He ordered, to which you would nod dumbly amidst your pleasured mewls.

You felt the delightful stretch of another of his thick fingers pressing into your sopping cunt, thrusting in tandem with his previous one, as he leaned closer to you and his lips just barely touched your own.

“S-Sae, mmph, more, please, please, touch me more.” You begged, bringing a sinful smirk to the midfielder’s lips.

Unexpectedly, he would comply with your requests, pressing the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit and rubbing quick, pleasurable cricles with his fingers as he arduously sought out that sweet, sweet spot inside of you. You could not help but start sobbing his name, his thick fingers filling you to the brim even though he had yet to stuff his cock into you. Each time he curled upward inside of you, his impeccable skill had you gasping for reprieve.

It was nothing like Rin’s. His fingers were slightly thinner than his brother’s, but they were a tad longer too, able to reach the deepest spots within you without even trying. Sae's immense precision and experience, which allowed him to know exactly where your sweetest spots lay within you, made up for his lack of length.

“ . . . Are you seriously thinking about him right now?”

You were startled out of your reverie by his curious tone and thinly veiled anger. You tried to focus on his hardened features through your daze, but you couldn’t. The knot in your tummy tightened, and you felt an enormous wave of pleasure wash over you. Something big was coming, and you could feel it reverberating all throughout your core.

“He could never make you feel this good, could he? Never get this pretty cunt this wet for him, hm?” All throughout his monologue, you could hear the sinful squelching of your juices soaking his palm, dripping down his wrist, and splattering onto the floor. You were a mess beneath him. He would abuse that rough patch just along your upper walls until your toes clung to the sheets in ecstasy.

“M’sorry, m’sorry!” You mewled, breath coming out in short, high-pitched pants as you writhed under him, his pace increasing as he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers.

“Who’s making a mess of you right now? Huh? Speak up, princess; let me hear you say it.”

“—You, Sae! You, you, you! Hah, please, I-I can’t . . . ! I-I’m gonna—”

“Do it. Cum on my fuckin’ fingers. Make a mess for me, pretty.”

You did just that. Your body went rigid for naught but a second before your back was arched into him, and your head tossed itself back into the pillows as a chorus of unabashed wails of your release erupted from your pretty, drooling lips. Your release was immense—loud—as a gushing of juices from your pussy thoroughly drenched the sheets, Sae’s sweatpants, his abs, and his entire forearm.

You squirted. For him. For the first time ever.

It was uncharacteristic how an almost feral grin twisted on Sae’s lips, his fingers removing from your sopping cunt to place a few well-directed slaps on your far too sensitive and overstimulated pussy.

“Atta’ fuckin’ girl. Can’t believe my baby brother was keeping such a sweet little succubus all to himself—selfish bastard.”

You couldn’t even hear him; your chest was rising and falling heavily as tears of pleasure ran down your cheeks (and thighs).

“Hey, hey. You still with me?” His tone was soft, his typically impassive visage now meeting your own with furrowed eyebrows and a tinge of concern behind his bright hues.

You nodded—it was all you could muster at this moment, but it was good enough for Sae. He brought his soaking hand to your parted lips, lightly tapping the digits on your plump flesh in a silent command for you to clean him off. He chuckled. Your lithe tongue and eager brims slurped, licked, and sucked your mess off of his thick fingers that were now shoved down your throat without you even needing to be told what to do.

“You wanna do that again for me? On my cock this time, pretty?”

You were exhausted, your body already aching beneath him, but you still craved more from him. Another meek nod was given, your dazed eyes meeting his only to utter around his fingers, words garbled from his fingers on your tongue, “Wantha’ squirth’ awound ya cahwk.”

That was all Sae needed to hear as he stepped off of the bed, making quick work to discard his soaked sweatpants and boxers into the growing pile of clothes at the base of the bed. His large hands grabbed your soft hips, tugging you toward him with ease as he flipped you onto your hands and knees. He let out a growl, his hand raising to smack your plump ass once, then twice, on both of your cheeks before taking big, greedy handfuls of your flesh into his ravenous palms. This was undoubtedly already his favorite thing about you.

Standing by the edge of the bed, Sae placed your body horizontally across the mattress with your head facing the door. With a forceful push of your face down into the sheets, your view of the room instantly became obscured. You craned your neck back, peering at Sae from over the arch of your back as he grabbed one of your fat cheeks in one hand and used his other to line his cock up with your entrance. He slapped his heavy cock against your folds, his blossoming mushroom tip connecting with your throbbing clit making you both keen with ecstasy.

He couldn’t wait any more. He needed to be inside of you. He entered your drooling cunt with a single, calculated push, and your fluttering walls were already trying to devour more of him in response to the intrusion. Sae groaned as his hips met the flesh of your ass once he was buried to the hilt inside of you. His head lulled back as he dug his blunt nails into your flesh.

For the past three years, this—this right here is exactly what he had been craving, yearning over, and lusting for—and now he had it. He nearly came from the feeling inside of you alone, though; he’d be damned if he let the fun stop there.

A steady pace was quickly established by the midfielder's hips, and his long, deliberate strokes were deep enough to feel in your tummy and cause your toes to curl up in pleasure. Having had such a powerful orgasm not even minutes earlier, you were still fairly sensitive; however, that only made things all the more enjoyable.

“O-Oh my god, y-your cock, it’s t-too much, I-I can’t—”

“Don’t tell me you can’t, you cock-loving slut.” He snapped at you, cutting your pleas short with a sharp thrust of his hips. The rhythmic plapping of your ass against his pelvis resonated off the walls of the bedroom, lewdly ringing in your own ears. “This is everything I—we’ve—been wanting for years. Don’t tell me that now, all of a sudden—” He paused, groaning deeply through gritted teeth as you clenched around him. “—That this pretty pussy can’t take anymore when you’re gripping me so desperately.”

“B-But Sae, i-it feels too good! Like I’m . . . I’m gonna make a mess again!” You whined.

He thought it was adorable that even in the most deplorable and deprived of acts, you still attempted to hold some semblance of modesty. Oh, how you were both far past that.

If anything, that just fueled his aggression. He used your words as justification to pummel your poor pussy harder and faster, putting both of his hands on your hips and lower back and pressing his weight against you to force you into an almost painful arch as his pelvis slammed into your ass. Your vision went blurry from his unforgiving pace, and your throat went raw from your cries and screams of pleasure.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” He grunted in between thrusts, a hand raising to land a furious smack on your ass that caused you to mewl and your tiny fists to grip the sheets.

“Y-You, Sae! You are! Ngh, plea—”

“And who’s cock do you like better, huh, princess? Me or that lukewarm fuckface’s?”

You hesitated, but only for a millisecond, as you felt the blunt head of his cock caressing your sweet spot, pummeling into you over and over as your thighs began to shake, growing unable to hold yourself up from the stimulation. His thrusts faltered as his cock twitched inside of you. You figured he was close too.

“Yours, y-yours! Your cock feels so good, I-I’m gonna cum again! I’m ngh gonna cum all over your f-fuck-ing cock!”

He let out an almost animalistic groan, something between a chuckle and a feral snarl, “Yeah, princess? You really mean it?” He moved one of his hands to your hair, threading his fingers through it without yet pulling, almost as if he were waiting for your response.

Your response was almost instantaneous, and the adorable chorus of incoherent babbles and cries of "yes, yes, yes" left your head spinning. You had the sensation that you might pass out completely.

Your head was abruptly yanked out of the pillows, and your gaze was once again forced upward. Your eyes, albeit blurry and glassy, caught sight of the all-too-familiar figure standing in the doorway. Sweat dribbling from his forehead while dressed in a white windbreaker and sweatpants to protect himself from the elements during his jog, stood the one person who filled you with dread.

Rin.

He was back.

As your eyes locked onto the all-too-memorable teal ones boring into your own, your moans ceased. The logic and reason that you had previously dismissed for giving into your desires came flooding back. Guilt, which had been gnawing at the pit of your stomach, reared it’s ugly head once more.

He caught you.

With his brother.

The realization of your actions, the feeling of knowing that you hurt someone you cared deeply about and promised your life to, left you reeling. The enormity of the situation left you speechless and unable to respond.

As the shock slowly gave way to the depths of your despair, tears welled up in your eyes, this time of anguish. Your ability to control your emotions ran out, and you began to sob, letting the tears run down your cheeks. Each tear that ran free was weighed down by guilt and regret.

All the while, Sae never stopped thrusting behind you. Almost as if he remained unfazed by his brother’s—your boyfriend’s—sudden appearance.

“R-Rin—”

“—Save it.”

His initial shock, disbelief, and hurt gradually gave way to something else. He was angry, searing with anger as malice began to rise within him, a blaze of fury that threatened to consume him. Though he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at . . . Sae?

“You told me you would wait until I got back, Nii-chan.”

The air left your lungs.

. . . What?

Using the grip from your hair, Sae pulled you back into him, pressing your body flush against his own as he craned your neck back into an awkward angle, forcing your gaze to meet his own. A dark and unsettling satisfaction crept into his expression, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. His eyes sparkled with a perverse delight, reveling in the twisted pleasure he derived from your adorably bewildered and anguished expression.

Your breath hitched.

Your mind raced for answers.

Sae’s gaze lazily tore from your own and to Rin's, who still remained in the doorway, the forward’s eyes sinfully burning into the way your breasts bounced sinfully from each of Sae’s now slow, agonizing thrusts.

"You know, little brother, it is not too late to join in on the fun."

ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

if this gets enough attention, i may make a part two!

“Baby, I promise I was kidding.”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Rintaro.”

“‘Rintaro?’ Baby, it was a joke! If I knew it would actually make you upset, I wouldn’t have done it.”

Your eyes are watery and pouty when you look at him, and he blinks down at you expectantly. Then you huff, “of course I’m upset! It’s a sign of disrespect.”

Rintaro groans and squats down in front of you, head moving back and forth to keep his eyes locked on yours as you try to move your own gaze, “baby, I swear, I didn’t mean it, I thought it would make you laugh.”

He never thought hitting your Pompurin plush would have you in such shambles. You’ve been ignoring him all ride with a small grimace on your lips, playing with Pompurin’s arms and tiny feet, sometimes answering questions about what’s on the tag. You’re deadset on ignoring him. It’s destroying him.

With a small sigh, he leans up to try and plant a kiss to your lips, despite the fact that the last thing he’d think you’d want is a kiss. It’s something he knows you adore, though, he hopes you see through your anger to see him.

You do pout out slightly to try and chase his lips, and it fills him with relief.

“It was pretend, baby,” he mumbles, trying to convince you. “I’d never mean to hit him, I was pretending to be mad that he’d take you away from me.”

Well. It was only half pretend.

But you don’t need to know that.

You gently twist pompurin’s ears in your fingers, shrugging and shaking your face from his hands slightly. “You hurt my feelings Rin.”

Once again, he grabs your chin, leaning up to press another kiss to your lips. “I know, baby. I thought it’d be funny.”

“Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m so sorry-“

“Not to me,” you grumble. “To him!” You hold up the new pompurin plush, and Rintaro tucks his lips in his mouth to hide the annoyed sigh that wants to slip out.

Annoyed, albeit still endeared.

Green eyes hyper fixate on the doey eyes of pompurin, smacking his lips and nodding in respect. “I’m sorry, Pompurin. I never should’ve hit you. And I hope you’ll consider forgiving me and taking care of them while I’m at practice.”

In his peripheral, he sees you smile, your fingers shifting to move pompurin’s head to nod.

“Thank you for apologizing,” you say as you lower the new plush animal. “I love you.”

He smirks and leans forward one final time to kiss you, and you giggle in the kiss and toss your arms around his neck.

If he could guarantee you’d always be this affectionate after, he’d playfully smack all your stuffed animals.

hype boy.

PAIRING ▸ slytherin! niki x gryffindor! reader

GENRE ▸ hogwarts! au, rivalry! au, e2ls, romance, angst, fluff, humor

SUMMARY ▸ you and niki supposedly hate each other’s guts, everyone knows. slytherin vs. gryffindor, green vs. red, no one can break you two apart- except when a night on the quidditch field may prove otherwise.

WORD COUNT ▸ 4.7k

AKA (un)fortunately for you, niki is indeed your hype boy. 

NOTES ▸ mentions of hospitals, slight injuries, kissing, food, not proofread ???

part of the charms and chasers miniseries.

“MOVE YOUR BIG HEAD.”  

you hiss at the boy in front of you, hand gripping your quill tight in frustration. 

your number one nemesis, rival, enemy, whatever you wanted to call him because you had plenty more demeaning options, just so happened to sit right in front of you in transfiguration. 

he whips his head around, sending you a cocky smile before sitting up even straighter and completely blocking your view of the professor. you groan in annoyance. ever since niki hit his growth spurt last year and shot up, he had been more irritating than ever. it’s like he had another one-up on you, which wasn’t fair at all that he got such good height genes. and with that glow up of his came attention from girls. not that you cared, but having his ego inflated even more didn’t make it any better for you. 

sure, most girls fawned over him and his so called charming personality- something you didn’t understand, even since the day you met him back on hogwarts express your first year. 

it was a cloudy day and you just so happened to be slightly late. okay, maybe extremely late. besides getting an earful from your parents, you scrambled onto the train and into the first compartment you could find. said compartment coincidentally housed niki. 

he didn’t try to even hide the annoyed once over he sent your way. at that time, you understood his reaction and meekly apologized before asking for a seat. but throughout the ride, as your friendly attempts to make conversation with the young boy were instantly blocked by snide remarks and lowkey insults, your disdain began to grow. 

and when the sorting hat declared you in gryffindor and niki in slytherin, you remember the look you two exchanged on the way to your respective tables. it was a challenge. and it lasted for years. 

two super stubborn and competitive students, always wanting to be better than the other, called for a rivalry. nothing else mattered- just the outcome, just the winner. 

it had always been that way. you vs. niki, niki vs. you. always sporting the typical gryffindor vs. slytherin and red vs. green. as the years went on, the rivalry only continued. you hated his cockiness, rudeness, snarkiness. you hated every -ness and every point to the finest detail about nishimura riki. the same could only be said for him, because why else would he continue his arguing and pranking against you for no reason?

you thought about that day a lot, what you did that made him dislike you. and then you wondered why you were wasting time thinking about the raven haired boy, slapping your cheek to get out of it. didn’t matter, didn’t care. 

so what if niki and you were bound enemies? he, his newfound handsomeness, and his big head could go get smacked by the weeping willow. 

he wasn’t even that cute. 

“you okay, y/n?” you snap out of your thoughts, glancing over to your seat mate. jay seems concerned, giving you a questioning look as you shake your head. 

“it’s nothing. i just can’t see what the professor’s doing,” you whisper back. nodding in response, jay passes his notebook over to you as you thank him with a grateful smile. you eye the humongous head in front of you.

you seriously consider flipping the bird at him, and by that you mean procuring a real bird and flinging it the back of niki’s head. 

monday. lunchtime. 

the only thing you can remember is niki turning the mint chocolate chip ice cream you were eating into actual toothpaste. and then proceeding to make fun of you in front of the whole school for your affinity for the flavor. 

“who knew y/n would resort to eating toothpaste just to fix their stinky breath?”

rolling your eyes, you slam your spoon on the table. a few people are laughing, others are disapproving (for your taste preferences or the prank, you’re not sure). most were unaffected because after all, it was you and niki. 

you squint at him and he shrugs nonchalantly in response. 

it doesn’t take long for you to transform his water into mouthwash and watch with relish as he chokes and splutters. eyes wide, he can only watch as you innocently bat your own eyes at him, pocketing your wand with satisfaction. 

meanwhile all of your friends and his barely take a second glance, used to your shenanigans. 

tuesday. 

niki mentions a grass stain on your robes- which obviously leads to an argument midclass. why the world decided to give you four out of seven classes with niki (mainly back to back), you wish you knew. 

“maybe because some people have such dedication to their sport and it obviously pays off,” you drawl. 

niki’s nostrils flare in annoyance. you knew how riled up he got when you mentioned quidditch. 

he quickly raises a hand over his eyes, pretending to search for something over the top of your head. 

“did somebody just say something? i swear i just heard-“

you huff, fire in your eyes.

“how long are you going to keep doing that? it’s getting old, really.”

he scoffs while crossing his arms over his chest. 

“old? what about that time-“

you hear an aggressive clearing of the throat and you both falter. your professor narrows his eyes at the two of you. finally, you quite down. but it isn’t over yet. 

when you leave class, he sends you a look that means just wait until later. 

you and niki always seemed to find each other in the hallway, it was like your eyes were automatically accustomed to doing so. it was a habit- finding him the moment you entered a room or any space. his presence was so invoking, so invoking that it called for you to meet his eyes. another challenge. 

whenever you shared eye contact, even for a split second, the game would begin. every sneakily side-eye, disdainful look, infuriated glare. nasty words and insults spewed across the room without even moving your lips.  

today he leaves with a corner of his mouth tilted up, like he knew something you didn’t. 

you swear, his trademark smirk that some girls literally swoon over are in your nightmares. 

the only one up you had over niki was on the quidditch field- which obviously your rivalry continued there too. you were proud to say gryffindor’s winning record over slytherin this season was 4-1 (you had to admit the thought of beating niki made you train extra hard during practice).

when you get on the field that evening, you sigh and look at the list. 

practice match: gryffindor vs. slytherin. 

that explains niki’s reaction. 

you crack your knuckles. no biggie. 

as swift and sneaky niki was, you knew all of his tricks. he could read you, and you could read him, but just a little bit better. 

you go onto the field, joining your teammates. again, niki catches your eye and you study him. what was he planning? 

when the whistle blows, you shoot up into the air. scanning the field from above, you rush towards the first sign of movement you see and grab the quaffle with ease. 

your path to the hoops is open, that is, until a green flash cuts in front of you. 

you grit your teeth as your broom immediately halts. so this is the kind of game he wants to play. 

every time you had the ball, niki would somehow find his way in front of you. you would constantly swerve and avoid him as best as you could, but he would always find a way to block you from their goal. 

all of a sudden, you flip around, heading towards your own team’s goal. shouts of confusion fill the air, and you can physically feel niki behind you, right on your tail. 

wait. 

you see the goalpost, the sight of it getting larger and larger as you close in on the distance. although confused, the slytherin behind you continues his pursuit. 

a little more. 

you hear yells of your name, clamoring and chaos. you instead tune them out and focus. 

now. 

right as you’re about to go through the middle goal, you suddenly lift your broom and flip upside down, heading back the opposite way to the right goal. niki is forced to make an abrupt stop and turn around so he doesn’t run into the goal. 

niki was the only one who could keep up with your speed and without him in your way, it’s free sailing past all the other slower players to slytherin’s goal. easily, you score and your teammates cheer on. 

niki finally catches up with a shake of his head. “are you sure you didn’t get put into the wrong house?” he calls out, swerving around on his broom. 

you smirk, a glint in your eyes. “i don’t know, did i?” 

your bickering doesn’t stop, even when you get off the field. he follows you as your teams watch in amusement (and certain female spectators in jealousy, which you ignore pointedly).

wednesday. 

you enter the great hall with minji and leeseo, excitedly discussing your upcoming match against slytherin. 

“it’s almost time for me to kick niki’s butt again,” you cross your arms with a content sigh. 

minji shakes her head, “what’s the record so far?” 

you shoot her a grin, dancing playfully, “soon to be five to one.” 

leeseo raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, but before she can say something, you notice her eyes trail off into the distance. 

“what?” you frown, “what is it?” 

they step back and in the midst of chattering students, you frown and turn around- 

only to be met face to face with jisung, a seventh year in your house. 

“h-hey, y/n…” he starts off nervously. 

you gulp, not liking where the conversation was heading. jisung was a kind and shy upperclassman that you met through your friend minji who was also a seventh year. you had only had a couple interactions with him, so his sudden encounter was puzzling. 

“hey jisung. did you need something?”

he scratches his head, and you suddenly become self conscious of the few surrounding eyes falling on you two. 

jisung mumbles something along the lines of your time but you couldn’t quite catch it. 

“what?” you step closer to hear him and if anything, he physically reddens. 

“are you free this weekend?” he says a little too loud for comfort, avoiding your gaze. 

you tense. 

if anyone truly knows you, they know that although you’re a gryffindor, you hate public confrontations. you hate anything that deals with your personal feelings in front of other people, in front of strangers. you know it doesn’t make sense, especially with all your public fights with niki. you don’t know why but you just hate the thought of everyone knowing your private business. 

arguing with niki was a norm, you were used to it and had been for years. but romance? you honestly had no clue how to deal with that and now that you were pressured to give jisung an answer in front of everyone made it even worse. 

silence falls upon you and for some reason, in that split second, you catch niki’s eye some feet away. you’re surprised to see him already watching you, but in the moment that isn’t the most looming thing on your mind. niki stands there with an unreadable expression and your eyes quickly flick away. 

“jisung- well,” you pause, aggressively chewing on your lip. trying to formulate your thoughts quick enough to not make an awkward silence between you and him was extremely difficult. 

the situation feels overwhelming, so you pick at your robes. his expectant eyes on you, your friends still watching from behind, you feel as if everyone’s gaze was judging you immensely- silently screaming at you to give an answer.

all of a sudden, you feel a cold sensation crash over you. gasping and spluttering, you wipe your eyes to see yourself (and the floor around you) completely soaked. your robes dripping, hair flat, you whip around. 

gasps and murmurs erupt around you and ask if you’re okay. you ignore them. 

all you see is a glimpse of green robes flying out the door and past the corner. you stomp angrily after niki.  

your shoes squelching, you cringe. it isn’t hard for you to catch up with him, yelling out an disdainful, “hey! big head!”

you clench your fists together as he turns around slowly like a robber caught by the police. 

“what was that for?” 

you wring out your sleeves, flinging the wetness at him. in your outrage and confusion, you begin spewing out baseless words. "are you just mad that i’m the one getting attention from other people now? are you that jealous that you‘re not special anymore?“

his mischievous demeanor suddenly changes. niki looks serious, and maybe even upset? you’ve never seen him like this and it makes you falter. 

his gaze bores into you. 

“why do you automatically assume i’m a horrible person? why do you always think i have the worst intentions? is it because i’m a slytherin, because that’s just-“

“of course not!” 

“then why do you always fight with me about everything?” a hand runs through his hair, “i saw you were clearly uncomfortable with that jisung guy so i tried to, i dunno- divert the attention away.”  

silence fills the air. the only thing is the sound of your clothes still dripping water onto the floors. for the first time, you don’t have a comeback. 

niki was right. sure, dumping water on you was a bit harsh, but his intentions weren’t bad. niki, your proclaimed enemy, was trying to help you. 

the whole time everything you did or said to niki was in defense. because his words always got to you and you needed to build up a wall to protect yourself. to prove yourself that anything niki did wouldn’t affect you. 

even if it wasn’t serious when you were younger, you realized your fighting with niki became a whole different matter. 

niki waits and waits for you to respond, but you only stand there quietly to reflect. with a worried expression, he comes closer to inspect you. 

he brings a warm hand to your face, examining you with wide eyes. “did i do something wrong? did the water hurt you?” 

for a second you’re so shocked you can’t move (or process the dumb question- it was water for goodness sake). then the warmth begins to flood into you and you push him away. 

“w-what are you doing?!” you yelp, flustered. 

his actions must’ve hit him at that moment because he freezes. you mirror each other with embarrassed gazes. 

his mouth opens and closes repeatedly. you blink. 

“i- you, we just-“ 

instead of holding a proper conversation like normal people, once you hear the door to the great hall open for kids to get to their next classes, you and niki both bolt in opposite directions, sporting angry blushes that others figure it was due to a heavy argument. 

you don’t know why. you honestly have no clue. but after that day, you managed to apologize and kindly reject jisung (someone you respected but truthfully held no affection for) and travel back in time. 

back in time meaning every memory of interactions with niki. you were just being immature- holding onto long time grudges and insecurities. 

you know you had a lot of history with niki. but maybe you should try to see things from his point of view. maybe you both needed to grow up and realize the truth. 

for the first time, you and niki acknowledge each other in the halls with a nod. for the first time, the classrooms and quidditch field are quiet without your constant bickering. for the first time, you and niki (kind of) get along. 

besides the unspoken situation that happened between you and niki, you attempted to be kinder to him. and so did he. 

well, for the most part. 

“pass me the vial,” you call out to niki and he turns around. 

when you reach out to take it, he jerks his hand away and you huff, glaring at him. niki simply grins before handing you the vial. and that was it. 

while the two of you work absentmindedly, the rest of the class (including the professor) watches you with jaws dropped. 

you pack up and head out of class, stopping when you hear a call of your name behind you. 

leeseo stomps over, and your eyebrows raise. 

“hey, what’s up?”

she crosses her arms, whispering indignantly, “i don’t know! you tell me!”

you tilt your head, confused. “tell you….?”

“how for the first time in hogwarts history you and niki didn’t argue in class?” she pauses, “you know what? i feel like i haven’t seen the two of you fight for a while. what happened?”

your mysterious shrug doesn’t make it any better. 

“is it because you realize your feelings for him?”

you choke on your spit. 

“excuse me?”

she nudges you playfully, “you know? the whole enemies to lovers thing? i can see it.”

you shake your head vehemently, “that’s literally only a thing in movies. you’re funny, leeseo.” 

but the worst thing is, you do think about it. enemies to lovers? you and niki? 

there’s no way. you spent your whole life up until this moment hating him. you shiver in disgust, shaking off the thought. 

sighing, you make your way down the hallways, alone. you left your ink in herbology and desperately needed it for notes. 

opening the door, you quietly make your way to your desk in order not to disturb your plants. 

or the sleeping figure in the corner. 

wait. what?

in alarm, you make your way over to the peaceful figure lying down on the desk. and then you pause. 

it was niki. 

and for some reason, you can’t help but just look at him. niki looked like a completely different person when he was asleep. he was much more tolerable.. and much more childlike.  

it was almost cute. 

you quickly blink. an idea formulates in your head, but you no longer charge ahead with confidence. you hesitate, debating whether pranking him would be too much. 

as long as it was simple and harmless, it would be fine, right? 

you draw out your wand, tiptoeing closer without a sound. but before you can mutter the incantation, a sudden shove from behind makes you gasp and stumble closer to him. 

you were too close to him, faces only inches apart. your eyes grow impossibly wide. for a second, you study his long eyelashes, pouting lips, and his chest rising and falling rhythmically. 

when niki mumbles in his sleep, you come back to reality. you shoot up and whip around to see the perpetrator who pushed you. it was-

no one? 

frowning, you look around for any sight of movement. that is, one of the potted mandrakes slightly rustles its leaves. you glare at it accusingly, muttering under your breath.

a surprised sound comes from your left. niki stares at you with confusion and sleep still in his eyes. 

“y/n?”

you grip the scarf in your hands tighter. “s-sorry,” you hastily apologize. “i had to grab something.”

you turn to dash out of the classroom, but a hand stops you. 

“where are you going?”

“to supper?” you respond, confused. 

he groans, getting up from his position. “okay. me too. might as well go together.” 

throat dry, you have no response. 

a comfortable pace set, it’s quiet as you walk together. you glance at him through the corner of your eye. niki stares at the ground, hands in his pockets. 

“why were you sleeping in herbology?” you ask abruptly to break the tension. 

“wanted to stay for tutoring and waited for the professor who didn’t show. i guess i accidentally fell asleep.”

“oh. okay.” 

“what did you forget?”

you gesture to your ink bottle and he nods. “you could’ve asked me for some.” 

you roll your eyes, feeling more relaxed. “and risk you giving me disappearing ink during an exam?”

he looks away sheepishly, “you know me too well.” 

you cough, “yeah, yeah.” 

the distance between you two shortens, yet your conversation is interrupted when you reach the great hall.

when you notice niki’s absence, you turn to him. “not going in?”

he waves a hand offhandedly, "actually i’m not hungry. see you later.”

bewildered, you wave good bye without another word. a silent question lingers in the back of your head. 

then why did he come all the way with you? 

you begin to question yourself. why did you feel that way when you saw niki up close? it was the same as the time he placed his hand on your face in concern. you didn’t like it. it bothered you. 

walking out of your commonroom that night for some fresh air, you hear commotion coming from down a corridor. you continue walking, hearing a group of voices. but you pause when you hear a distinctly familiar voice. 

“-there’s no way, man.”

“sure, but don’t lie to us. we saw you with them the other day. you were actually having a conversation- like normal people.”  

your blood runs cold. was that niki and his friends? 

could they be… talking about you?

“sure, but that’s just speaking words. listen, i don’t like them. i’ll never have feelings for them like that.”

you don’t know why disappointment fills you instead. you don’t why you head back to your dorm and hide under the covers. why you try to distance yourself from him, try to keep yourself from getting misunderstandings and more hurt. 

it’s obvious how you don’t even try to talk to him anymore. no more bickering, no more jokes, and no more niki. you didn’t realize how much of your day revolved around the boy. 

how much you woke up looking forward to squabbling with niki, hearing his teasing, seeing his grinning face. 

you actually missed him.

but if that’s what niki thought about you, then it was fine. you would think the same about him. you were fine. you had to be, and in order to be unaffected, you needed some distance. 

you see the way his eyes burn a hole into you when you pass by in and between classes. when he tries to talk to you, you give short and one worded answers. 

all your friends teased the way he would watch you during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. niki would see the way you laughed with no heart behind it and smiled without it reaching your eyes. 

to take your mind off things, you focused on quidditch. you focused on your upcoming match against slytherin. 

that is, until the day before your game. you got off the quidditch field after practicing alone, sweaty and breathless. as you put your broom and gloves up, a hand yanks you to the side.

your breath leaves you as you find yourself pushed up against the wall. breathing heavily, you realize pretty much immediately who it is. 

his arm effectively traps you, hand on the wall next to you. niki’s dark gaze is intense, and you know he won’t leave without an answer. 

“what’s going on, y/n? you don’t talk to me anymore, you don’t even look at me. what did i do wrong-“

for a second, the only thing you can hear is the sound of your breaths mixing. you squirm at how you can feel his body heat pressing into you. 

“nothing is wrong,” you grit out. 

“why won’t you look at me?”

you do, locking fiery gazes. he searches your eyes, but you won’t let him in.

“let. me. go.” 

you jab your finger into his firm chest with every word you enunciate.  

“no.” 

he cocks his head, still waiting for an answer. you sigh. 

“don’t worry about me. focus on yourself and the game tomorrow.”

exhausted, you push past him with barely any fight. 

“don’t even think about following me,” you call out one last time wearily. 

match day. you thought you were ready, even though you barely got any asleep after what happened yesterday. minji sports red and gold face paint, hyping you up before the match. 

everything happens in a blur, from when you get into your starting positions to when the whistle blows and you’re suddenly up in the air.  

you focus on the flying projectiles, looking for the ball. but a looming presence behind you doesn’t make it any better. 

you ignore him. 

“y/n!” niki calls out for only you to hear. to spectators, it seems like he’s chasing you around for the ball, which was indeed his position, but you knew he was just following you. 

you swerve around, away from the quaffle. shouts of confusion fill the air as the spectator comments on your move- but you could care less. 

niki zooms in beside you. 

"why are you avoiding me?” he yells. 

“i’m not.” 

“tell me!”

my god, he won’t stop. you forgot how stubborn he was. 

“stop following me!” you groan before turning away. 

“y/n, can we at least-“

for a second, you glance behind you to see where he was. a major mistake. 

mainly because you don’t see the hurtling bludger straight towards you. as your head turns back, niki calls out your name. panicked. 

“watch out-!”

your player instincts manage to dodge, but you veer off so harshly that the force causes you lose your grip on the broom and fall off.  

the last thing you hear is a shout of your name and a flash of green. the last thing you feel is the wind howling in your ears and warmth encasing you. 

everything hurts. the lights are too bright. 

your throat is incredibly dry- even more then the time niki snuck a puking pastille in your food that left you by the toilet for hours. 

you let out a weak croak, eyes feeling impossibly heavy but you manage to open them. the sight of the hospital wing comes into focus. what were you doing here?

when you try to shift, you suddenly notice the warmth encasing your hand and by your lap.  

“niki?” you cringe at how dead your voice sounds. 

he shoots up at the sound of your voice in the chair next to your hospital bed. his hand tightens around yours.

“y/n- you’re awake!” his warm eyes leave you feeling uncomfortable fluttery on the inside. 

“yeah,” you cough. “what’s going on?”

he gives you a glass of water before explaining. “you fell off your broom avoiding the bludger. i managed to catch you but the impact caused you to pass out.”

you furrow your eyebrows, recalling the events leading up to your fall. 

“the nurse said you’re fine, just some bruises and aches. you’ve been out for a couple hours.” 

you’re silent for a second before speaking up, “so who won?”

niki frowns, disapproval evident on his face. “y/n. you fell like a hundred feet and ended up in a hospital, and that’s what you care about?”

you suddenly grow half defensive, half embarrassed. your hand feels clammy in his. 

“why do you care? i mean, why are you here with me?” 

“what do you mean? i-i was worried about you, obviously.”

you huff bitterly, “worried? i thought you said you didn’t like me- and never would.”

“what?” he responds incredulously. 

you cough awkwardly, telling him about the time you overheard him and his friends.

he suddenly breaks out in laughter, leaving you offended. “thanks for eavesdropping, but i was talking about some creepy stalker girl who wouldn’t leave me alone.”

you resist the urge to slap yourself. “so that means…”

“i don’t not like you.”

“you don’t not like me?” you repeat to yourself. 

niki suddenly stammers, “i-i thought it was obvious. i thought it was really obvious back in our first year. but then you actually got angry, and i just kinda kept up with the act throughout the years-”

your eyes bulge, “so everything you did was to get my attention?!”

“maybe?” niki sighs, raising his hand that was tightly gripping yours. 

“i was deathly worried about you, and a really stupid kid. so, y/n, would you please forgive me?” 

suddenly the proximity between you two feels too small, the air in the room too hot. 

“pretty please?” he pouts up at you. 

what happened to the niki from yesterday? you bite the inside of your cheek before the gyrffindor side of you takes over. 

“you know what? if you want to make up for the last however many years, just kiss me.”

for once, big head listens to you. 

a/n ▸ happy halloween to anyone who celebrates!! and thank you to the overwhelming support on this miniseries <33 it was a real struggle but it’s finally completed!

MAIN TAGLIST ▸  @precioussoulofmine @lov3niki @heesterical @rerequire @nvertheless @duolingofanaccount @hoeshii

SERIES TAGLIST ▸ @ritsusakumasgf @minimarkive @lilactangerine @shinsou-rii @ahnneyong @nomniki @nyanggk @imtaehyungry @seattlesolace @allthegirlsmialoved @annoyingbitch83 @jakahbot @leeis @heavenforatlas @acciocriativity @loveza1nab @juliemr0 @en-martieru @uomre @rubysluvbot @notdrunkbutdazed

UNABLE TO TAG ▸ @/27melodies

Synopsis: You find yourself developing a crush on mischievous soccer player Eita Otoya. The only problem? Eita and relationships don’t exactly go hand in hand — which is something you’re only all too aware of, considering he just so happens to be your best friend’s older brother.

BLLK Masterlist | Karasu Version

Pairing: Otoya x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 12.9k

Content Warnings: crack fic, otoya is a red flag let’s not lie to ourselves, he’s lowkey ooc at the end, reader says ‘i can NOT fix him’ but then accidentally manages to anyways, otoya plays video games but sucks at them, otoya’s younger sister is given a name (look at that word count LMAO i’m not calling her ‘otoya’s younger sister’ the entire time), std jokes, your honor eita otoya IS a loser

A/N: yes this is based off the song “best friend’s brother” from victorious. yes this is probably the dumbest otoya fic you will ever read (i promise i’ve written him better before). yes this is four times longer than it was supposed to be. idk what to say either i just get carried away LMAO

On the first day of your first year of middle school, you were told by your teacher to sit next to an entirely disagreeable looking girl. Her round face was adorned with a scowl, and there was a scrape on the bridge of her nose. She had silvery hair cut in a choppy bob, and blunt bangs streaked with green covered her forehead. When she noticed you staring at her in surprise, she made a face at you.

“What do you want?” she said.

“I’m supposed to sit here,” you said. “Teacher said so.”

“Whatever,” she said with a scoff. You gave her an uneasy look as you set your things down beside her, sliding into your chair and watching her out of the corner of your eye. If she noticed, she did not care, gripping her pencil in her hand so hard it was a miracle it did not snap in half, her scowl deepening as she looked over the introduction sheet you all had been given to fill out. 

“I’m Y/N L/N,” you offered meekly, not wanting to accidentally offend her. She seemed like the kind of girl you really shouldn’t mess with, not if you wanted to keep your life and limbs intact.

She glanced at you. “Seiko Otoya.”

“Nice to meet you, Otoya,” you said.

“Seiko,” she said firmly. “Nobody calls me Otoya ‘cause I have two older siblings and it’s confusing.”

“Ah, but neither of your siblings are here, so it wouldn’t be confusing,” you pointed out before you could stop yourself. Seiko gave you an annoyed look.

“So what? Everyone’s been calling me Seiko since I can remember, so if you try to get my attention by saying Otoya I won’t realize,” she said. “What’s your problem with it?”

“I don’t have a problem,” you said, pulling out a pencil of your own and filling out your introduction sheet. Your handwriting was ten times nicer than Seiko’s, you noticed — she had a messy scrawl that was barely legible, especially when compared to your neat print. 

“That’s great to hear, L/N,” she said, shoving her arm over her paper so you couldn’t look at it any longer. “Quit copying me.”

“Of all the assignments to copy on, do you really think I’d pick this one? It wouldn’t even make sense, since all of the information is about ourselves. See, this one asks about our families,” you said, tapping your eraser against the question you were referring to. “It’s not like I would write that I have two older siblings, because I don’t, even though you do.”

Seiko scoffed, puffing her cheeks out and turning back to her work with a pout. “Fine.”

You had been hoping that you’d befriend your desk partner, considering you didn’t know anyone at the middle school. All of your friends from primary school lived across town from you, so they were attending another middle school, which had the unfortunate effect of leaving you by yourself. Unfortunately, it seemed like you were out of luck when it came to making friends with the girl beside you, because Seiko was surly at best and downright hostile at worst.

When the bell rang to signify the end of the first half of the day as well as the beginning of the lunch break, you all but leapt out of your seat, speed-walking towards the cafeteria as fast as you could, eager to avoid another stiff conversation with Seiko. For her part, she rolled her eyes, taking her own time to gather her things and push in her chair, ignoring you completely all the while.

In your haste, you didn’t watch where you were going, and because of your shyly-ducked head, you ran straight into the back of a tall, heavy-set boy.

“What is wrong with you?” he snapped, spinning around to face you. He had close-cropped hair and thick brows, a narrow mouth pressed into a taut line, and a pinched, ruddy face. 

“I’m sorry,” you said immediately.

“You made me drop my chocolate milk,” he said. “Apologize again, and give me money to pay for more!”

“Your chocolate milk is still in your hand,” you said quietly. He glared at you, and then, before you could react, he was unscrewing the cap and pouring its contents all over you.

“Like I said,” he said. “You made me drop it.”

“What — why would you do that?” you sputtered. You had thought that middle school would be much the same as elementary had been, only with different people, but this never would’ve happened, even just last year. You looked around wildly for a teacher, but there were none; though you were surrounded by laughing peers, you realized that you were alone in this hallway, completely and utterly alone. Everyone was laughing at you and milk was dripping down your once-white shirt and you were alone and things could not get worse. 

The boy held out his hand. Things got worse. “Gimme your lunch money, freak.”

You stared at him blankly, tears welling in your eyes but refusing to fall. He tapped his foot, and slowly, when you understood that you had no choice, you reached into your pocket, fumbling around for the bit of change you had brought with you.

Suddenly, someone slapped your wrist lightly — in reprimand, and not hard enough that it hurt, but so that you were startled and ceased your actions immediately. Looking up, you saw it was Seiko Otoya, looking much the same as she had earlier, though her cheeks bloomed with a rose-colored flush as she jabbed a finger at the boy.

“Who do you think you’re messing with, huh?” she shouted, loudly enough that you were surprised no adults were alarmed. The boy’s eyes widened.

“Seiko?” he said. “I didn’t know you were—”

She let out a challenging war cry and then lunged at him. You gasped as she tackled him to the ground and socked him in the nose, looking entirely ridiculous all the while. It was like watching a chihuahua beat up a mastiff; Seiko was tiny compared to the boy, but vicious, not even giving him a moment to breathe as she rammed her fists into his face, over and over.

“Miss Otoya!” an authoritative voice said, cutting through the brawl. “What is the meaning of this?”

Your teacher stood before you, one of your classmates at her side. When Seiko did not move, she yanked her off of the boy, helping him stand and giving Seiko a stern look.

“He spilled milk on L/N and tried to take her lunch money, so I was just trying to give him a taste of his own medicine,” Seiko said with a shrug.

“You should’ve come to me, not taken matters into your own hands,” your teacher said, massaging her temples when she saw the state of your uniform. “Do you have anything to say to this young man?”

Seiko squinted at the boy, his bloody nose and shivering frame, and then she nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Go on, then,” your teacher said. Seiko placed her hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry—” she began. Your teacher nodded encouragingly. “—that I didn’t hit you harder. You could’ve gotten surgery and fixed that ugly nose of yours if I had actually managed to break it. I’ll do better next time, promise.”

The boy burst into tears. Seiko was sent to detention, giggling all the while. You were given a new uniform and the knowledge that there was at least this one person in the school who was on your side.

It was only natural that, after such an ordeal, you and Seiko ended up as fast friends. Her gruff exterior never softened any, but you found that she was kinder than she let on, and lonely in her own way.

“I learned that move from one of the wrestling matches my older brother likes to watch,” she explained to you a few days later. “I’ve been itching to try it out, so thanks for giving me the opportunity.”

“Itching to try it out?” you said in wonder, accepting the orange slice she handed you and biting into it.

“You know, I beat up 95% of the boys in my kindergarten,” she said thoughtfully. Despite the far-fetched number, you were inclined to believe her. “I’m kind of the opposite of my siblings in that sense. They’re both super popular, especially my brother Eita, but I’ve never been like that. I’m the sort of person that people generally stay far away from.”

“Well, I’m not staying far away from you,” you said. 

“Right,” she said, cracking her knuckles with a smirk. “Who knows when that guy or his lackeys will come back to take revenge on you? You’ve gotta keep me around for a while, just in case.”

It was the best she could offer in terms of friendship, so you only smiled and said that you would.

You visited her house for the first time the following summer, during that part of the season when the days were long and faded into night so slowly that you could even fall asleep while it was still light out. She invited you in and then immediately tugged you after her, not bothering to offer an explanation, as was her way. You stumbled up the stairs, trying to keep pace as she whipped around a corner and knocked frantically on a shut door.

“What?” a muffled voice shouted from inside of the room. 

“It’s Seiko, open up!” she shouted back. “I have to show you something!”

The door opened to reveal a boy. He was a year or so older than you and Seiko, with a delicate, handsome face and a slender, willowy build. His hair, which boasted the same strange coloring as Seiko’s, fell into low-lidded eyes that narrowed with irritation when they settled upon his younger sister.

“What is it?” he said. “I was in the middle of playing a game with my friends.”

“Look,” she said, placing her hands on your shoulders proudly. “You said you didn’t believe I had a friend, but I do, see? This is Y/N L/N, and she’s here to hang out with me!”

Her brother seemed unimpressed. “Did you have to rough her up a bit or something to get her to agree to it?”

“No!” Seiko said. “She actually likes me, right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you said, confused at what kind of argument you had accidentally found yourself in the middle of. “Um, Seiko’s my best friend at school, and she’s never beaten me up or anything, so…”

“Holy crap, you must be desperate,” he said.

“Hey!” Seiko said, kicking him in the shin. He winced and promptly slammed the door on your faces.

“You suck!” he said. “I have a soccer game tomorrow, so you’re lucky you didn’t permanently injure me!”

“I wish I had!” she said. “Come on, Y/N. He’s a jerk. Let’s go swimming. Did you bring a bathing suit? If not, you can borrow one of mine.”

“I have one,” you said. “Wait, so was that your older brother? The one who watches wrestling matches and all?”

“Yeah, that’s Eita. He’s in the grade ahead of us. I guess you could say we’re closer with each other than with our older sister, since she’s already finished high school, but to be honest, he’s dumb and mean, so we don’t get along very well,” she said.

“I picked up on that,” you said. “He seriously didn’t believe you had any friends?” 

“No!” she said. “I told you back when we first met that he and our sister are super popular and I’m not, didn’t I? The thing is that he’s aware of that, too, and he always teases me for it, so when I told him I actually had made a friend, he acted like I was making it up. That’s why I took you to meet him, but he just had to go and be annoying about it! Ugh. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.”

“That’s the worst. Oh, and he plays soccer?” you said. She gave you a strange look.

“Mhm, why?” she said.

“Dunno,” you said. “Just wondering.”

Even you weren’t sure why you were curious about Eita Otoya. Your first interaction with him had hardly been memorable, and if anything you should really despise him for being rude to Seiko. But wasn’t it common for siblings to fight? That didn’t mean he was a bad person, did it?

Actually, it was irrelevant. You doubted you would see much of him, so no matter the quality of his character, he wasn’t someone you needed to be thinking of as anything more than your best friend’s brother. Resolving to push it aside, you spent the rest of the summer with Seiko by their pool, eating popsicles and playing mermaids and getting into splash fights and entirely ignoring whatever signs of her brother’s existence presented themselves.

In fact, until you and Seiko began high school, your path hardly crossed with Eita Otoya’s. He was always out with his friends whenever you came over, and the things he preferred to do had such little overlap with yours and Seiko’s interests that it was as if he did not even live in the Otoya household at all. Indeed, you saw more of their older sister, who was already in college, than you did him, and he became nothing but a vague thought in the back of your mind, only considered when you saw a random sock on their kitchen floor or a soccer jersey thrown across the back of the armchair in their living room.

All of this changed when you and Seiko became high schoolers and she joined the swim team. Her practice hours were long and irregular, which meant there were often times that you’d sit around her house, doing homework while you waited for her to come back. Some days she was only five minutes late; others, it was half an hour or more. It was frustrating, but it could not be helped, so you learned quickly that you should bring something to entertain yourself with if you dared to head to the Otoya household on a day she had swimming — which was every day, or so it seemed.

“Hey. You’re L/N, right? Seiko’s friend?”

You were pulled out of writing a history paper by someone speaking to you curiously. When you looked up, you saw that it was Eita Otoya, a brown paper bag in his hands and a friendly smile on his face. He set the bag on the counter and rummaged about in one of their cabinets, pulling out two plates while he gazed at you, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, I am,” you said, omitting the fact that you had been coming to his house for years, seeing no merit in bringing it up. “You’re her older brother.”

“Yup,” he said, emptying the contents of the bag onto one of the plates. “I can’t believe you’re doing homework at your best friend’s house.”

“She was supposed to be back half an hour ago, but I think one of her teammates pissed the coach off, so they all got held back again,” you said. “I figured I might as well be productive while I waited for her.”

“Smart,” he said. “Want some?”

He held up the plate filled with churros at you. You furrowed your brow, feeling entirely awkward — this was probably the longest conversation you had ever had with him, and certainly the only one you had had without Seiko present.

“Uh, sure,” you said.

“Good choice, these things are delicious,” he said, shaking his head as he heaped a generous portion onto the other plate. Pulling out the chair across from you, he handed you your plate and then sat down with a dreamy exhale. “I swear they put crack in them or something.”

“It’s possible,” you said, debating whether you should close your laptop before deciding you might as well. It wouldn’t do for your keyboard to get sticky with cinnamon sugar, and it would probably be rude of you to have it out while he was sitting with you.

You both were quiet for a while — you were too unsure of what to say to him, so you opted for silence, and he was distracted with eating his churros and texting someone on his phone. Maybe you should’ve kept your laptop open after all.

“Say, L/N,” he said. “If you were a girl—”

“I am a girl,” you interrupted him, somewhat put-out that he had forgotten that. He rolled his eyes and took another bite out of a churro, chewing and swallowing it before responding.

“Obviously,” he said. “You didn’t let me finish. If you were a girl who was dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?”

“You could’ve just phrased it like ‘if you were dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?’ You didn’t have to specify the ‘if you were a girl’ part,” you muttered. It was a childish thing to be hung up about, but for some reason it really irritated you to think that he thought of you as something other than you really were.

He cocked his head at you, like he was trying to discern whether you were really being serious or not. He must’ve decided that you were, for he chuckled. It was not quite condescending but bordering on it, and it did not improve your mood any.

“Alright, I’m sorry. That’s my bad. Well, if you were dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?” he said.

“I’d be upset and break up with them immediately, duh,” you said.

“Why?” he said.

“What do you mean why?” you said incredulously. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“I’m not sure. No one’s ever cheated on me before,” he said with an impish grin, leaning over the table and snatching one of the churros off of your plate. “That’s why I wanted to know what you think.”

“No one’s ever cheated on me before, either. I’ve never even dated someone. That’s just the kind of thing where you already know what you’d do, though you hope it never happens,” you said.

“You’ve never dated someone? But you’re so pretty,” he said. You coughed, a bit of the churro that you had just swallowed sticking against your throat peculiarly at the compliment, which he had tossed out so casually it was as if he had just been commenting on the weather.

“Thanks,” you said. “Anyways, er, like I was saying — like I was saying, I wouldn’t stay with a cheater. Not ever.”

“That’s a shame,” he said, taking your empty plate, stacking it atop his own, and setting both in the sink. Running his hands under a stream of water so that there wasn’t any residue left on them, he shook his head. “It isn’t that big of a deal, you know. Like, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t mean anything?” you said. “Of course it means something. It means you don’t have any respect for the person you’re dating, and I wouldn’t want to be with someone who doesn’t respect me, so why would I stay with someone who cheated? Plus, I’m sure you’ve heard what they all say — once a cheater, always a cheater. If they did it before, they’ll do it again.”

“That’s not very conducive to a growth mindset,” he said, patting his hands dry on a red-striped dish towel.

“Maybe not,” you said. “But people who cheat can grow somewhere far away from me.”

“That sounds like my cue to leave,” he said with a two-fingered salute. “I used to wonder why you were friends with Seiko, but to be honest, I can see it now.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, he had left the kitchen, running up to his room, taking the steps two at a time. You were rendered absolutely bewildered, your sugary fingers and your unfinished essay and the two empty plates in the sink serving as the only proof that the conversation had even happened in the first place.

“Your brother’s really weird,” you said to Seiko when she got back, smelling faintly of chlorine, though you knew she had already showered at the pool. She cringed.

“Tell me about it. What did he do this time?” she said, pulling a large sweatshirt on, her hair sticking up every which way afterwards.

“He gave me churros and asked me what I’d do if someone cheated on me,” you said. She snorted.

“Sounds like him,” she said. “He’s kind of a serial dater, you see. He doesn’t tell me much, mostly because I’d be seriously grossed out by it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a cheater, too. Seriously, I don’t even know how we’re related. He’s the worst. I’d tell him to stop if I thought that he’d actually listen to me.”

“Oh,” you said.

“Don’t be so gloomy,” she said, elbowing you in the side affectionately. “It’s not like you’ll ever get with him, so why are you worried? I’d never let you date a cheater like that. Seriously, if you ever get a boyfriend—”

“If?” you said.

“You know what I mean. Anyways, like I was saying, I’ll beat him up if he cheats on you, whoever he might be!” she said, flexing her biceps, which were admittedly impressive, albeit hidden by the puffy sleeves of her sweatshirt.

“What if it’s your brother?” you said. 

“Ew, why would it be him?” she said, pretending to gag. “Never date Eita. You deserve way better. He’s like a walking STD, probably. Just being in the same room with him is enough to give anyone herpes.”

“It was just a hypothetical question. And also, don’t you live with him? That’s nasty, do you have herpes, too?” you said. She ran her hands through her hair in a futile attempt to tame it; you reached into your backpack and pulled out a comb, tossing it at her.

“I’m immune because we’re related,” she said. “They only transfer if you have those kinds of intentions, so you’re safe for now, but I’m just saying, he’s a genuine health risk to be around. And to answer your question, yeah, I’d take any opportunity to punch him, so if he cheated on you I’d go at it doubly hard!”

“That makes it seem like I’m more of an excuse for you to mess with your brother than you actually wanting to defend my honor or anything,” you said.

“There’s a bit of both factoring into the decision,” she admitted. “Let’s stop thinking about it, though. I’m feeling itchy in places I should not be feeling itchy at just the prospect of you guys being together.”

“I didn’t need to know that,” you informed her. She stuck her tongue out at you, and the topic was, in turn, forgotten.

For some reason, though, you found yourself showing up at the Otoyas’ house earlier and earlier. Not enough to draw suspicion, but enough that you almost always had at least a couple of minutes there by yourself. Mr. and Mrs. Otoya had long ago grown accustomed to your presence and treated you more like another daughter than anything, so they didn’t find it strange, and Seiko’s older sister had recently moved into her own apartment nearer to her university, so she didn’t even realize that it was happening.

In fact, there was only one consequence to this newfound habit of yours: in the many moments before Seiko returned from her practices, you struck up a friendship with her brother, Eita.

Things were awkward at first, you couldn’t deny it. He didn’t have much interest in you, and in fact it seemed like he only entertained you because it would be even worse if he didn’t. 

“Oh, you’re here again,” he’d say if he got back from soccer before Seiko came back from swimming. “No Seiko?”

“Not yet,” you’d say, a poster board or worksheet or laptop in front of you. “She should be back in a few minutes. We’re supposed to finish this project together.”

“I told her she should’ve picked soccer,” he’d say with a laugh. “We always finish on time.”

“Cool,” you’d say, because how else could you respond? He’d raise his eyebrows at you, and then, if he felt generous, he’d give you a churro. If not, he’d dart off to his room, mumbling some excuse about having to call one of his friends or something, which you never responded to, because it was mostly unimportant to you.

There wasn’t any huge reasoning behind it. Talking to Eita Otoya wasn’t particularly stimulating, and though you certainly found him good-looking, you wouldn’t go so far as to say you had a crush on him. Mostly, you found him to be a bit of an enigma, and if in figuring him out, you got a few churros out of it, then you supposed it was a fair enough deal, but it wasn’t like you were seeking out his company or anything.

Eventually, he seemed to warm to you a bit more, though you were still standoffish, Seiko’s warning ever-present in the back of your mind — the one regarding walking STDs and herpes and whatnot. You never brought it up with him, but that really was the cause of your shyness, not — not anything else. Definitely not anything else. Why would you be shy around him of all people?

“Hey, L/N,” he’d say nowadays, greeting you cheerfully and sitting next to you as you did your homework. “How’re things going?”

“They’re good, thank you,” you’d say, scooting away from him inconspicuously. Herpes. STDs. Genuine health risk. Oh, he smells really nice… 

“I’m doing well myself,” he’d respond, despite the fact that you typically didn’t bother with asking. “Still no Seiko?”

“Nope,” you’d say with a sigh. “Still no Seiko.”

He’d wrinkle his nose. “Damn. Sorry to hear it.”

“It’s fine,” you’d say. “She’ll be here soon, and she’ll probably be full of complaints about her coach.”

“I’d stick around until then, but unfortunately, my PC is calling,” he’d say, or he’d give some other such goofy excuse that was obviously designed to pull a laugh out of you and usually did. “See you around, L/N.”

“Later,” you’d say. “Have fun with your PC.”

It was nice. You wouldn’t say you were close with him by any means — definitely not as close as you were with his sister — but the two of you got along. You didn’t know much about him, and you doubted he knew much about you, but you both could hold enough of a conversation that you began to actually look forward to spending time with him.

Only because he was oddly funny in his own way, and kind of sweet, too. It had nothing to do with how nice his laugh sounded or how bright his grin was or the way he spoke to you, gently but also mischievously. You didn’t even notice these things, not one bit. 

“Y/N!” he said one Saturday, banging into the kitchen excitedly. At some point, you had indeed become Y/N to him, though you couldn’t quite place when that shift had occurred. “No Seiko?”

“She’s at a meet,” you said. “She told me she’d come back once she was done with her races, but she texted me a few minutes ago that her coach is making her stay for the entire thing, and she doesn’t know how long it’ll take. I thought about going home, but then I thought that, since I’m already here, I should just wait for her.”

“I’m surprised you’re not doing homework,” he said, hopping onto the counter, a box in his hands, ostensibly filled with churros.

“It’s Saturday,” you pointed out. “I did all of my weekend work yesterday so I could be free today and tomorrow. Seiko and I were supposed to have a movie marathon, so I didn’t want to be distracted.”

“Supposed to?” he said, wandering around his kitchen, taking out cutlery and plates with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“Who knows when she’ll get back? Hopefully, it’s soon, but I’m sure you’re aware of how random the meet schedules can be, so we might run out of time to have a marathon proper,” you said.

“It’s like I always say,” he said.

“She should’ve picked soccer,” you completed for him. “What makes you bring that up today?”

“Our matches are timed,” he said. “No uncertainty there. Look, forget about that for a moment. I walked past this bakery on my way back from soccer practice, and they were having a sale, so I stopped in. I asked Seiko, and she said you like these. Is that true? Because if she was lying, I’m gonna kill her.”

Instead of churros like you had expected, he was holding a plate of cupcakes, frosted in pastel shades, crystal sprinkles glittering under the ceiling lights. They were beautiful, like little flowers or jewels, and you beamed as he put them on the table and waited for you to speak.

“No way!” you said. “Are these from that place by the park? I’ve been wanting to go there for ages, but their stuff is so expensive that I could never justify it. I can’t believe they had a sale! Thank goodness you happened to walk past. I would’ve cried if I missed my chance to try their stuff.”

“So, as a girl, you’re impressed by this?” he said as you unwrapped one of the cupcakes and shoved it in your mouth. You gave him a surprised look, your chin covered in icing, sweet cake filling your cheeks. He suppressed a laugh, handing you a napkin as you rapidly chewed and swallowed.

“What d’you mean?” you said.

“I’m trying something new,” he explained. “Buying flowers is kinda lame nowadays; plus, if I get cupcakes instead, then I can also have some, so it’s a win-win.”

“I see,” you said, dabbing at your face with the napkin.

“I thought I’d ask for your feedback, since you’re the only girl I talk to regularly. Besides Seiko, obviously, but it’s not like I’m going to ask my little sister about this kind of stuff,” he said.

“I’d say I was pretty impressed,” you said. “However, I would also say you shouldn’t mention that you got them on sale.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mention that to a girl I was actually interested in,” he said. “I just told you because I knew you’d refuse to eat them otherwise.”

“That’s true,” you said. “Buying these at full price would’ve been stupid in any situation, but especially so because it’s not like you’re trying to be nice to me or anything.”

“You make me sound like a villain,” he complained. “I still got them for you, didn’t I? Why does it matter what my reasons were?”

“Your reasons are kind of villainous,” you said. “You got them for me so I could tell you whether your new strategy for picking up girls was a winner or not.”

“I compensated you for your services!” he said. “What kind of villain would do that? By the way, is it? A winner, I mean.”

“I think so, but everyone’s different. It could work with one person and not another,” you said.

“Good enough for me,” he said, patting you on the head. You paid him no mind — not true, even the lighthearted touch made you feel all squirmy and strange — and pulled out your phone, which had just vibrated with a text. 

It was Seiko, and you sighed as you read the message. Eita peered over your shoulder and then hummed sympathetically.

“Ooh, is that Seiko? Yikes,” he said.

‘now the coach is making us all go to dinner as a team :/ we can have our movie marathon another time?? sorry i made you wait and then stood you up.’

A second later, your phone buzzed again. 

‘i feel like eita LMAO omg pls don’t slap me like his last ex did. i’ll make it up to you another time PROMISE!!’

You would’ve laughed, but you felt so discouraged by her earlier text that you could only muster up a half-smile. Eita gasped in offense when he read the second message, drawing back and sticking his nose in the air, folding his arms over his chest.

“I can’t believe she’s airing my business out to you like that,” he said.

“I can’t believe you got slapped by your last ex,” you said, though the words lacked the teasing bite that they should’ve had. He frowned at you.

“Are you just going to go home now?” he said.

“Guess so, since Seiko won’t be back until tonight,” you said. “Oh, well. At least I got cupcakes. I’m sure the girl that you stood up wasn’t so lucky.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he said. “No, she wasn’t.”

“And you claimed you weren’t a villain,” you said, shaking your head in disappointment. “See you later. Thanks for the cupcakes.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then, just as abruptly, closed it again. You arched a brow at him, but he only smiled at you.

“See you,” he said, putting the cupcakes back in the box and handing it to you. “Take these.”

“Don’t you want them?” you said. He had never given you the extras of anything he had ever bought before, preferring to keep them so he could eat them later that night or for breakfast the next day. 

“Nah, I got them for you, so you should keep them,” he said. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime,” you said, your fingertips brushing against his as he handed you the box. A burst of static electricity shocked you, and you bit back a hiss as you accepted it from him, not wanting to seem whiny when he hadn’t even reacted.

“Hold on,” he said as you made your way to the door. “Listen, if she stands you up again, I’ll watch the movies with you.”

“Really? They’re not your genre, so I’m sure you’ll be bored,” you said.

“You don’t even know what my genre is,” he said. 

“Maybe not,” you said. “I’ll take you up on that, then, so I hope you meant it.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t,” he said.

“You’re not half-bad, you know,” you said thoughtfully, tucking the box under your arm so you could unlock the front door. “Seiko always calls you mean, but you’re pretty nice.”

“If she was half as agreeable as you, I wouldn’t have to be mean!” he said. “It’s way easier to be nice to you than anyone else, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that. What even were you to him? Just his little sister’s best friend, or something different? Were the two of you genuinely friends, or were you just the girl he asked for help with his stupid relationships that never lasted for longer than a week? Did he like you? Did you like him? No, of course you didn’t. This was Eita Otoya. You could never like him, not if you valued your friendship with Seiko or the well-being of your heart. You didn’t like him. You didn’t, you didn’t, you didn’t.

“That’s good,” you said finally. “Thanks again.”

“Bye,” he said.

“Bye,” you said, and with a final look at him, you let the door swing shut and turned towards your home.

The next day, you got up early so that you could make it to the bakery before they ran out of their best wares. Eita hadn’t specified how long the sale lasted, and if there was even a chance that it was still ongoing, you wanted to take advantage of it.

Thanks to the odd hour, there wasn’t a line outside of the bakery, and you felt confident as you walked into the warm, dough-scented building. It was airy and bright, flowers and sweets in the windowsill, the display cases well-lit and stocked with a multitude of desserts. Plants hung from the ceiling, and the pale wallpaper was covered with floral motifs, small birds perching amongst the blooms. The bakery itself was so beautiful that you almost forgot what you were there for until one of the employees cleared her throat.

“Can I help you, miss?” she said.

“Hi!” you said. “A friend of mine mentioned that you were having a sale yesterday. Is that still happening?”

“A sale? We don’t do sales here, I’m afraid. Is it possible that they went somewhere else?” she said.

“No, he specifically said the place by the park,” you said, furrowing your brow. “Are you sure you didn’t happen to have a sale?”

“Positive,” she said. “I was working yesterday, too, so if you describe him, I can let you know if he came or not.”

“He’s about this tall,” you said, holding up your hand at approximately Eita’s height. “Plays soccer, silver hair with a green streak—”

“Yes! He came in right around lunchtime yesterday and bought cupcakes,” she said. “Um, is he single, by any chance?”

“As good as,” you said. You had no idea what the state of his romantic life was, but considering how quickly he jumped from girl to girl, there was almost no point in saying that he was taken. “If he ever comes back, feel free to make a move on him. He’d probably appreciate it. Moving on, do you mean to say that he got those at full price?”

“He would’ve had to,” she said. “Like I said, we don’t do sales. We’re not that kind of establishment.”

“I might faint when you answer this, so please be slow and careful when you do, but how much, exactly, is full price for what he bought?” you said. “Out of curiosity.” 

She told you. You did not faint, but it was such an exorbitant number that, for a moment, you really thought you might.

The next Saturday evening, you went to the Otoyas’ with a wad of cash in your hand. Seiko and her parents were away the entire weekend for an invitational meet, but for once, she was not the one you had gone to visit, so this was of little consequence to you.

You rang the doorbell and waited with crossed arms, the humid air oppressive against your skin. According to your weather app, it was going to rain soon, and you pursed your lips at the thought that Eita might not be home and you’d get caught in the downpour with nothing to show for it.

Luckily, the door opened, revealing him standing there in a pair of shorts, his hair still damp and a towel around his neck. You focused very hard on pretending like he was wearing a shirt, even though he was not, and it worked well enough that you could just barely greet him properly.

“Y/N? Hey, I’m sorry you walked all this way, but Seiko’s not home. Did she forget to tell you she’s gone for the weekend?” he said.

“No, I’m here for you,” you said.

“Huh?” he said.

“Not like that! I mean, I went to that bakery, and the girl working there told me they never have sales, which means you paid full price for those cupcakes. That’s insane! I can’t accept that,” you said.

“So, what, are you gonna vomit them out at my feet or something? That sounds gross, please don’t,” he said.

“I’m paying you back,” you said, extending your hand and offering him the money. “Don’t even think about refusing. I already feel horrible.”

“No way,” he said. “It was a present. You don’t pay people back for presents, that’s like a faux pas or something. I think. Er, I’d have to look it up to be certain, but I’m pretty sure it’s frowned upon.”

“I didn’t even do anything present-worthy, so why would you give me one?” you said.

“Yeah, you did. You helped me out, remember? Gave me advice and all,” he said.

“That was hardly worth all of this!” you said. “Seriously, at least take a little bit.”

“Nah,” he said. “You should come inside.”

“For what?” you said. “Seiko’s not here.”

“True, but I feel bad that you walked for nothing, so it’s the least I can do,” he said.

“It wasn’t for nothing. It was to pay you back, which I will do, and after that I’ll go home,” you said.

“Doubt it,” he said. “Come on, it’s going to rain soon. If you get sick and blame me for it, my sister will kill me.”

Reluctantly, you followed him into the kitchen, hyper aware that you both were alone. It had never been like this before; always, someone else had been in the house, whether his mother or father or one of his sisters. You shouldn’t have cared that it was just the two of you, but you found that you did. It was as uncomfortable and strange as the turbulent skies and muggy atmosphere, but also pleasant in a way, like the sweet smell of yeast in a bakery or flower petals dusting against the crackled tops of sugar cookies in a windowsill.

“Do you like Super Smash Bros.?” he said, taking the towel and rubbing his head vigorously, giving him the frazzled appearance of a hedgehog, or perhaps an electrocuted cat of the cartoonish variety.

“It’s fun, but I’m not that good. Seiko usually beats me,” you said. 

“We can play, if you want,” he said. 

“Okay?” you said. “Why?”

“I’m just trying to think of things that we can do, since you’re here and all,” he said. 

“What were you planning on doing if I didn’t come?” you said.

“I was going to go on a date,” he said. 

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you actually had plans! I should leave so you can get to that,” you said. He waved you off dismissively, already turning the console on and connecting the controllers.

“It’s fine, I already canceled on her. Hopefully she gets the hint. If I have to spell it out to her that I’m not interested anymore, it’ll be annoying,” he said.

The TV flashed with the starting screen, the music blaring as you sat on opposite ends of the couch, remotes in hand. Outside, thunder rumbled ominously, and you thought that you should probably send your location to your parents so that they didn’t get worried. While Eita messed with the settings, you did that, receiving affirmative responses from both of them in turn — which made sense, as neither of them knew that Mr. and Mrs. Otoya, along with Seiko, weren’t home.

“Do you care what map we use?” he said.

“Seiko and I usually just go random,” you said. “So whatever you want is fine.”

“Random is the best,” he said. “Especially when you get the interactive maps that actively try to kill you. It’s way more exciting that way.”

“Exactly,” you said. Half of yours and Seiko’s matches were decided based on who could adjust to the map faster; sadly for you, this was frequently your best friend, and only very rarely you. 

“What character do you play? I know Seiko likes Palutena, so probably not her, right?” he said.

“I only ever play as girl characters, but my favorite is Zero Suit Samus,” you said, clicking on her and changing her outfit so that it was the burgundy version.

“You only play as girl characters? Why?” he said.

“It’s the best way to bond with your avatar. If you can’t connect with your character, then how can you hope to win?” you said.

“Are you for real?” he said. You maintained a straight face for as long as you could before breaking into laughter. 

“Obviously not. I just like playing as characters I think are pretty, since I don’t have much of a chance at winning either way,” you said.

“That makes sense,” he said. “I play as Sheik. He’s based off of a ninja, so it makes sense.”

It was your turn to give him a strange look. “What?”

“Because we’re descended from ninjas and all, so I have to stick with the theme. It’s like the Otoya brand,” he explained.

“I got that part,” you said. “What do you mean by he, though? Sheik is a girl.”

He paused right before clicking on Sheik, his eyes wide. “No way. He’s obviously a guy.”

“Not so,” you said. “I looked up a list of all female characters in Smash when I was trying to pick a main, and Sheik was on it. She’s Princess Zelda’s alter-ego, apparently.”

“Are you messing with me again?” he said. 

“No, not this time,” you said. He mulled this over before shrugging and clicking on the character’s icon anyways.

“Whatever,” he said. “I’m used to her, so there’s no point in changing. Besides, it doesn’t really matter if she’s a girl.”

“Very true,” you said. “Alright, I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Be prepared,” he warned you as he pressed the start button and the screen switched to a countdown. “I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you said. “Considering how frequently I’m pummeled by your sister, I’m used to losing.”

“Good. Get used to it more,” he said, immediately starting off before you could even orient yourself on the map. “Bang! Gotcha! You really are bad at this.”

“Just as an aside, the TV makes sound effects, so you don’t need to add more of your own,” you said, wrinkling your nose and dodging out of his next attack.

“It makes it more fun,” he said. “You should try it. Really helps you get in the zone.”

“Hm,” you said. “I’ll leave it to you.”

Somehow, you and Eita were actually evenly matched, and during the final round, you knocked his character off of the edge, guarding it until he couldn’t hope to recover and fell to his defeat. 

“Yay!” you said as the victory screen showed your character posing. “I haven’t won in ages! This is awesome.”

“Rematch! You only won because you’re one of those dirty edge guarders!” he said, already setting up the next game.

“‘Dirty edge guarders?’ That’s how the game is played,” you said.

“Nuh-uh, it’s against the rules,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

“No? There aren’t really rules in Smash. How do you not know this? Also, you should really stop saying things when you don’t even know if they’re true,” you said.

“My older sister would always tell me it was against the rules when we used to play,” he said. You waited for it to dawn on him; when it did, he groaned and facepalmed. “She was full of shit?”

“I’m afraid you were, in fact, duped,” you said.

“No wonder she always beat me,” he grumbled. “Whenever I was close to winning, she’d say whatever I was doing was against the rules.”

“That would do it,” you said. “I don’t mind playing again, though.”

“This time I’ll beat you for sure,” he said. “Now that I don’t have to abide by any bullshit guidelines.”

The two of you got wrapped up in a series of matches, eventually turning on the random character selector as well as the random map selector, refusing to read the tutorials so you were really going into things blind and figuring it out as you went. You had way more fun than you had expected you would, and as the evening went on, any thoughts of feeling self-conscious vanished from your mind. It was just Eita Otoya, after all. He was only your best friend’s older brother, the one who brought you treats and played soccer and sucked at Smash and had a childish sense of humor. There was no reason to feel shy. Well, besides the fact that he had never opted to put a shirt on, but that was a non-issue when your attention was focused solely on the screen.

You weren’t sure how many rounds you had gotten through when his phone rang, so shrilly and insistently that he was forced to pause the game and take the call. He didn’t leave his spot on the couch, though, which meant you were able to observe him as the girl on the other end began to scream.

“How could you cancel on me at the last minute?” she said, loud enough that you could hear her, though his phone wasn’t on speakerphone.

“It wasn’t that hard,” he said. “I just texted you and said I’m not going.”

“You’re such a piece of shit. I thought — I thought everyone was wrong about you, but they weren’t. They weren’t at all,” she said, her voice cracking.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that they were,” he said. “Listen, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now, so could you hurry up and say what you want to say?”

“Did you ever even like me?” she said.

“Yeah, at first,” he said. 

“Not anymore, though,” she said.

“Guess not,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Is that it? You’re ending things just like that? Didn’t it mean anything to you? I bragged to all of my friends about you! You were so sweet, and you even got me cookies…was it all just a game?” she said.

“It wasn’t a game,” he said. “As I said, I liked you back then. I wouldn’t have done all of that if I didn’t.”

“Because that’s supposed to make me feel all better,” she said.

“I’m just explaining myself,” he said.

“You’re the worst. You’re — just, you’re the worst, ugh!” she said before hanging up. Eita made a face at the phone and then put it facedown on the table beside him, unpausing the game without a wasted moment.

“They were from the grocery store,” he said after a bit.

“What?” you said.

“The cookies I got her. Grocery store variety,” he said.

“Oh. That’s kinda shitty,” you said.

“She seemed pretty happy about them regardless,” he said. “I wasn’t about to waste my money when I knew it wouldn’t last.”

“You wasted your money on me,” you pointed out. The corners of his mouth quirked up.

“You’re Seiko’s best friend. I’m pretty sure you’re not going anywhere, so it’s not a big deal. Consider it a peace offering for not believing you were real at first,” he said, landing a combo attack on your character.

“That was ages ago,” you said.

“It’s downright traumatizing for a person when others don’t think they’re real. Fucks up their psyche and whatnot. Acknowledging my mistake was the least I could do,” he said.

“Another fact you just made up?” you said.

“Maybe,” he said. “Was it plausible?”

“Not in the slightest,” you said.

“I tried,” he said. “Woah, nice one, Y/N.”

You had just hit his character in a series of successive blows, entirely by accident but to devastating effect. He lost his first life, respawning in and jumping back to the offensive.

“Why do you even do it?” you said, finally vocalizing the question that had been bothering you for almost the entire time that you had known him.

“Do what?” he said.

“Date people, when you know you’re going to break up with them so quickly,” you said. “What’s the point?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, the glare of the screen reflecting in his fern-colored irises. “It’s always fun at first. I meet a pretty girl, and I talk her into giving me her number. We go on a date or two, and I think it might actually be different this time, but it never is. By the third or fourth date, I’m bored beyond belief and dreading going on another. Then we break up and I do it all again.”

“That sounds exhausting,” you said.

“Near the end, it is,” he said. “But it’s pretty amusing in the beginning, so I don’t see a reason to stop.”

“Do you cheat on your girlfriends?” you said. You knew for sure what he would say, but still, you wanted to hear it from him.

“What is this, interview-Eita-day? Yeah, I have in the past, but only a couple of times,” he said. “Both of them were when the relationships were on their last legs and I couldn’t be bothered to care anymore.”

“That’s callous,” you said. “You should’ve just broken up with them.”

“Dumping girls is the worst. They get all upset and start crying, and I know I should feel bad because I’m the reason, but by that point, I just want to go home,” he said. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“A little bit,” you said. “For the most part, though, I just don’t understand. Why do you keep going for people you know you’re going to get tired of?”

“It’s not like I can look in the future and see that I’m going to end up bored,” he said. “It just happens. We run out of things to talk about and sit there in silence. It sucks. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“How does that even happen?” you said. “You talk all the time with me. I didn’t think you were capable of running out of things to say.”

“That’s different,” he said. “I’m not worried about impressing you — no offense — and you’re funny, plus you like some of the same things as me, so it’s easy to have a conversation with you. It’s not the case when you’re going out with someone. You’ll understand when you decide to date yourself.”

“Don’t the girls you go out with like the same things as you?” you said.

“Not really,” he said. “They think video games are for losers, and they’re too scared to go on the rides at amusement parks. Some of them understand soccer, but not to the point that it’s something they’d want to talk about frequently.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you said. “You’re only going out with people who you have zero shared interests with. It’s normal that you’d get bored of them, and that they’d get bored in return.”

“You’re thinking too much about it,” he said. “It’s not that deep.”

“That’s how it works,” you said. “Quite fundamentally, actually. It’s impossible to build a relationship with someone when you both have nothing in common. In fact, it’s unfair to all involved parties.”

“Are you trying to give me advice?” he said.

“Depends. Will you take it seriously if I do?” you said.

“Not sure. It’s kind of ridiculous for me to be listening to my little sister’s friend about this kind of thing,” he said.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you said.

“True,” he said. “Go ahead, then.”

“What do you even look for when you’re thinking of dating a girl?” you said.

“How hot she is,” he said. You waited for him to elaborate. He did not.

“That’s it?” you said.

“Pretty much,” he said.

“Why?” you said.

“Why not? Isn’t physical attraction important?” he said.

“To a certain extent, yes, but after a while, less and less so,” you said. “Haven’t you ever watched any romance movies? ‘It’s what’s on the inside that counts.’ Physical attraction alone isn’t enough in the long term.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “So what do you suggest?”

“Are there any girls you genuinely enjoy spending time with? Not romantically, just because you like talking to them, even if they’re not the prettiest or whatever,” you said.

“I don’t really spend time with girls unless I’m trying to date them. It never works out. They always end up liking me, and besides, it makes my girlfriends mad if I’m friends with other girls,” he said. 

“You seriously have zero female friends,” you deadpanned.

“And just how many male friends do you have?” he shot back.

“None,” you said. “Okay, fair enough.”

“Wait, no, I guess we’re friends,” he said. “Yeah, you’re cool, Y/N. I mean, you’re pretty as well, but I don’t really think about that part much because you’re friends with Seiko.”

“Thanks,” you said. “You’re cool, too.”

“Now what? You’re a girl, and I like talking to you. Where do I go from there?” he said.

“I was going to say you should try dating one of those girls instead, but obviously that’s not applicable here,” you said.

“Ah,” he said. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m all that unique,” you said, taking advantage of his distraction to win another match. “It won’t be that hard for you to find someone else that you like hanging out with, and then you can just date them. Hopefully, you won’t get bored with a relationship like that.”

Eita didn’t respond. You doubted he knew how to and you were glad for his silence, because you yourself felt embarrassed that you had tried so hard to help him. Since when had you been the kind of girl who wanted so badly to give people guidance? He had his problems, no one could deny that, but why did you care about them? Why did it matter to you if he was happy, or if he grew out of whatever phase he was currently in?

Maybe it was because you knew he could be better. The caricature of him that you heard about, from Seiko and from the rumors around your high school, contrasted so harshly with the Eita Otoya you knew. People loved him because they wanted to be him, to have that effortless and selfish attitude towards life, but you didn’t think that very many of them took the time to understand him.

You doubted anyone at school knew that he was horrible at Super Smash Bros., or that he was entirely gullible and liked to make other people laugh. How many of them would find him admirable if they knew of his addiction to churros and diet sodas? He wasn’t cool or charming or suave the way he pretended to be. At the end of the day, he was nothing but a dumb boy blessed with a handsome enough mien that had fallen into a crowd which demanded more of him than he honestly should’ve had to give.

Putting this protectiveness down as a symptom of your friendship with Seiko — of course you cared for her older brother, he was a part of her family and you cared about her, it only made sense — you noticed that there was a lull in the storm. Bidding Eita farewell and shoving the money into his phone case when he was preoccupied with turning the game off, you ran home before it could begin to rain again, blaming your queasiness on the fact that you had not yet eaten dinner and nothing more.

“Eita’s been talking about you a lot,” Seiko said to you at lunch one day, a couple of weeks after the evening you had spent with her brother. Both you and he had mutually agreed not to bring it up, and Seiko was none the wiser, or at least so you had thought.

“What do you mean?” you said. She took a sip out of her juice box.

“Nothing bad. He just asks me how you’re doing and stuff,” she said. 

“That’s not that weird. Why’d you bring it up?” you said. For a moment, you had thought she meant that he was asking about you for a different reason, but this just sounded like a typical and general concern.

“It’s a little weird. He doesn’t typically care about how other people are doing. The other day, he asked me when you’re coming over again, since according to him it’s ‘been a while.’ Like he’s keeping track or something!” she said.

“He’s not wrong. It has been a bit,” you said.

“I know, I know,” she said. “Season’s almost over, and then I’m all yours.”

“You don’t have off-season workouts?” you said.

“Fuck off-season workouts,” she said. “I’ll skip on the days we plan to hang out. My coach won’t say anything. I’m the star of the team, so he has to live with it.”

“You’re the best,” you said.

“And you’re trying to change the subject!” she said. “Are the two of you buddy-buddy now or something?”

“Or something,” you said. “We’ve just spoken a few times while I was waiting for you to come back home from practices.”

She narrowed her eyes at you before nodding slowly. “Look, just so you know, I don’t mind if you’re friends with him or anything.”

“That’s good. I’ll keep it in mind,” you said.

“He’s my brother, after all. I like knowing that my best friend is getting along with my family,” she continued.

“I get along with your family so well that I’m surprised they haven’t started calling me Y/N Otoya yet,” you said.

“But I want you to be aware of what kind of person he is,” she said with a note of finality. “He might do something that hurts your feelings.”

“You’ve told me. Many times, actually,” you said.

“And I don’t want you to stop being friends with me if he does,” she said. “Okay?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you said. “You’re my best friend in the entire world.”

“You promise?” she said, in a rare show of vulnerability.

“Promise,” you said. She punched you in the arm, returning back to being the Seiko you knew.

“Good. Then do what you want with him,” she said.

“What?” you said.

“Just saying! You deserve better, obviously, but I won’t turn down a chance to have you as my sister-in-law,” she said. “Besides, he knows that if he messes with you, I’ll take your side, so that might be an incentive for him to stay on the straight and narrow.”

“Seiko! It’s not like that!” you said. “I don’t have feelings for him. He’s your brother.” 

“Whatever you say,” she said in a sing-song voice, taking another sip of her juice box, obviously done with the discussion. 

She knew you better than you knew yourself. That was what happened when a person was best friends with another for years upon years, and that was why she understood even before you did what it was that was brewing between you and her brother, what had been brewing since long before that evening where you had finally noticed a palpable shift in your dynamic.

Exam season began shortly afterwards, so you didn’t have the time to go to the Otoyas’ when you were so wrapped up in studying. Then, once exams were finished, Seiko was finally freed from her grueling practice schedule, leaving her to be, as she had said earlier, all yours. This meant that even when you did go to their house, you were solely there to be with her, and so you saw little of Eita, barely speaking to him beyond exchanging pleasantries.

Sometimes you wondered how he was doing. Had he found a girl he actually liked and ended up dating her? How was that relationship going, if so? Or was he still continuing as he had been, chasing whoever he found the most attractive and then running away from them when things inevitably didn’t work out? You hoped that that wasn’t the case, though you didn’t find the former option all that appealing, either. You should’ve, because it would’ve meant that he had taken your words to heart, but you didn’t. The thought of him dating anyone was wrong and weird and you didn’t like it, but because you weren’t quite sure why that was, you decided to avoid both the feeling and its cause alike.

Halfway through summer break, on a day when your parents were on a business trip and Seiko was visiting one of her cousins in the city, Eita Otoya showed up on your front porch, knocking on the door furiously until you opened it. He was just about the last person you had expected to be standing there, red in the face and panting for breath, wearing a sweat-soaked jersey, hair sticking to his forehead and a white box in his hands.

“You look horrible,” you said.

“I ran all of the way here,” he said. “After my soccer game.”

“What for?” you said. 

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” he said. 

“I was just at your house the other day,” you said. “Jeez, you look like you’re about to pass out. Let me get you some water. You really could’ve walked, you know…”

He had never been to your house, so he trailed after you dutifully, sitting at the dining table and gulping down the glass of water you offered him within seconds. Taking it back, you refilled it and gave it to him again.

“You were there for Seiko, not me,” he said.

“She’s my best friend,” you said. “Obviously I was there for her.”

“And what am I?” he said.

“Not that,” you said.

“I should be upset, but for some reason, I’m kind of glad that you said that,” he said. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Rude much?” you said, his words stinging. “Is that all you came here to tell me? If you don’t want to be friends, that’s fine, but was there really a need for you to come to my house and announce it? How’d you even get my address?”

“Seiko told me,” he said.

“In hindsight, I should’ve seen that coming,” you said.

“I haven’t dated anyone,” he said, all in a rush, the sentences tumbling out of his mouth like he was not sure if he’d ever get the chance to say them again. “Not since that night that we played video games together.”

“Seriously? If I ask Seiko, will she confirm that?” you said.

“Of course! I’m a lot of things, I know that, but I’m not a liar. I’ve never tried to hide who I am, especially not from you,” he said.

“Well,” you said. “That’s good, then. I’m proud of you.”

“I’ve tried finding the kind of person you described,” he said. “Someone like you. You said it would be easy, but it’s not. It’s really fucking difficult.”

“Maybe you should look harder, then,” you said, rolling your eyes and placing his empty cup in the dishwasher before you forgot about it. “There’s no way I’m the only girl in the entire city that you can bring yourself to genuinely like.”

“You’re the only one I want to like,” he said. You froze in the middle of putting dish detergent in the dispenser, giving him an incredulous look.

“I’m what?” you said.

“I get that you probably don’t feel the same way. To be honest, I didn’t even realize that I did until Seiko yelled at me about it, because it’s not like it usually is. I want to spend time with you, as much as possible, even if we’re not doing anything but eating snacks or playing games. I want to listen to you talk, even if it’s about something that I think is boring. I want to buy things that’ll make you happy — the nice versions, not the kinds from the grocery store, because I don’t want to imagine that it won’t last. I want it to last,” he said.

You stared at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Of all the things he could’ve said, that was the most unlikely. What was it about you that made you so different, that the ever-fickle and brutally honest Eita Otoya was driven to such a confession? You knew he wasn’t making it up, because he was right — he never did. Not once had he ever tried to mislead a girl about who he was, and you sensed that this was much the same. The problem wasn’t that you didn’t believe him. It was that you simply couldn’t understand.

“I don’t get it,” you said.

“What do you mean? What else am I supposed to say?” he said. “I like you. I think I have for a while now. At first, I thought it was just because you were my sister’s friend, but according to her, you normally don’t feel this way for the friends of your siblings.”

“You’ve been talking to Seiko about me?” you said. Suddenly, the side comments she had been making recently made a lot more sense.

“Who else would I go to? It was humiliating, asking her for help, but you guys have known each other for forever, so I figured it was the best option,” he said.

“That’s true,” you said, starting the dishwasher and pushing it shut. “Wow. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“If you’re going to reject me, don’t worry about it. I didn’t tell you all of that because I was expecting you to say yes. I just wanted you to know that — that I did take what you said into consideration,” he said. 

“I’m glad you did,” you said. “It must’ve been weird, following the advice of your younger sister’s best friend.”

“You’re more than that,” he said. “You’re more than just Seiko’s friend to me. You’ve been more than that for a long time now.”

“Why me?” you said. “Why is it me, and not one of the hundreds of other girls that would jump at the chance to fix you, to be the one who finally got Eita Otoya to settle down for good?”

“It’s that bratty little sister of mine’s fault,” he said. “Because of her, you kept showing up, and by the time I noticed, it was way too late. At that point, I was already asking her what your favorite desserts were, just so I could get them for you.”

“I see,” you said.

“Besides, being with someone who wants to fix another person sounds awful. Do you want to fix me?” he said.

“If you expect me to, then you should probably just leave,” you said. “I don’t mind helping when I can, but the only person that can fix you is you.”

“Exactly,” he said. “You mentioned once that cheaters can grow somewhere far away from you.”

“Hm? Oh, I did say something along those lines, didn’t I? That was over a year ago, though,” you said, thinking back to that random conversation, unsure of why he even remembered it.

“I’ve done it,” he said. “It was hard, but I’ve done it anyways. For you, but also for myself. I’m not so sure that the highs are worth the lows anymore, and besides, I hate doing things I don’t like, and dating around is becoming one of those things.”

“Is that so?” you said. “I’m glad you realized that.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too. Uh, I should probably go now, so…here. For last time. You shouldn’t have paid me back. Don’t even think about pulling something like that again.”

He opened the box, revealing an assortment of cookies, all the different kinds you liked. You didn’t need to ask him to know where he had gotten them from, and you admired them as he stood and pushed in his chair.

“Thanks for hearing me out, Y/N,” he said. “And don’t worry, I won’t make things uncomfortable, so feel free to visit Seiko whenever. I’ll stay out of your way when you come over. She doesn’t have any other friends, so don’t ditch her just because of me.”

“You’re pretty self-important, aren’t you?” you teased. “Did you think I’d give her up just because of you? Not likely. Anyways, why would things be uncomfortable?”

“Usually it’s pretty unpleasant to have to be around someone when you know they have unreciprocated feelings for you,” he said.

“I don’t think they’re unreciprocated,” you said. He quite literally paused in his tracks, foot still raised in the air as he spun to face you.

“What? You should’ve said so earlier!” he said. “Do you mean I was acting all angsty and emotional for nothing?”

“I wanted to make you suffer a bit,” you said. “I mean this gently, but you deserve it.”

He hung his head. “You’re not wrong.”

“I’ve liked you for a while as well, though like you said, I hardly understood it myself, and I didn’t have the benefit of Seiko drumming it into my mind — mostly because that’s not the kind of conversation you really want to have with your best friend about her brother,” you said. “I also knew about your reputation, and no matter how wonderful I found you, I was a little wary, so I never gave it much thought.”

“But now?” he said.

“I mean, it’s kind of hard to reject a guy who runs to your house with cookies and a dramatic speech about how much he likes you,” you said.

“When you put it like that, I sound like a loser,” he said.

“I want you to consider that you play Super Smash Bros. in your free time, and that you are obsessed with anything ninja or Naruto related, and then I would like for you to repeat that statement with the same indignation you just said it with,” you said. He huffed in defeat.

“That’s fair enough,” he said.

“Like I said, I do like you, but I’m not in the business of fixing people. The second you start getting bored or wanting to cheat on me, break up with me, and be an adult about it. Don’t run away. Just be honest, and for my part, I’ll hold back my tears until you’ve left, alright? If you can swear you’ll do that, then I don’t mind trying,” you said.

“You’re way too nice to me,” he said.

“I can add in more demands, if you’d like,” you said.

“Now, I didn’t say you had to do that,” he said. You chuckled.

“I thought you were really serious about me, though?” you said. “Since you mentioned it, I do have one more condition. Say yes, and I’ll be your girlfriend. Say no, and…you better get back to searching.”

“What is it?” he said eagerly, grabbing your hands and holding them in between his own. “I’ll do anything.”

“You have to be the one to tell Seiko,” you said. He paled.

“You wouldn’t,” he said.

“Just did,” you said. He scrunched up his face in thought, obviously imagining his sister’s reaction. Though she had given both of you her blessings in her own way, there was no doubt in your mind that she’d give the two of you a hard time — especially him, considering the fact that she already did that without even having a reason to.

“I’ll do it, but you have to come along,” he bargained. “Someone has to nurse me back to health once she’s through with me. It might as well be you.”

“You’re in no place to be asking for things,” you said.

“Please?” he said. “She’s scary as hell, and I’m saying this as someone who regularly plays against guys big enough to become pro wrestlers.”

“Alright, alright,” you said. “I’ll come with you, and I’ll put bandages on all your bruises.”

He grinned at you. “Deal.”

“Deal,” you said.

“Then I guess you’re my girlfriend now,” he said.

“I guess I am,” you said.

“Nice,” he said. “Wanna play Mario Kart?”

You snorted. “Why not?”

So you sat down on the sofa — next to each other this time, not on opposite sides, your head leaning on his shoulder and his thigh pressed against your own — and you did just that.

“So let me get this straight,” Seiko said. Eita, who had just delivered the news, was attempting to hide behind you, which was a largely ineffective method of disguise. “You two are officially dating.”

“Pretty much,” you said, when it became obvious that Eita was too petrified to respond. It was funny — he talked such a big game when it was just words, and he was the first to make fun of Seiko, but as soon as the prospect of a fight came up, he cowered away, as any smart man would.

“Interesting,” she said. “Eita, come here. I just want to say something.”

He shuffled out towards Seiko, head bowed and hands clasped together. “Yes?”

“If you ever hurt even a cell in the bodies of the mites that live on her eyelashes—”

“What the fuck?” you said. “That’s disgusting. Thanks, Seiko, now I’m going to be scrubbing my eyelashes for the next week.”

“Don’t worry about it, everyone has them. They’re normal,” Seiko said. “Like I was saying, Eita, if you mess with her, I’ll kill you. Forget about sibling loyalty; it all goes out the door on that day, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he said.

“Good,” she said, nodding in satisfaction. He looked around like he was searching for a camera, obviously in disbelief that she had let him off so easily.

“Is that it?” he said.

“For now,” she said. “Ask me again in a few months and the answer might change.”

“I’ll take it,” he said. “Well, see you later. Let’s go upstairs, Y/N.”

“What? Y/N and I have plans to bake together tonight!” Seiko said.

“No way, we’re watching TV together! I’m going to make her watch all of Naruto!” he argued. In unison, they both turned to you, waiting for your response, waves of hostility rolling off of them.

“Oh, boy,” you said, already feeling a headache coming on. “This is going to be a lot more annoying than I anticipated.” 

o.m.g. my boyfriend is the coolest!

includes —- kaveh / alhaitham / tighnari / cyno.

summary —- he overhears you giggling to your friends about how cool/ funny/ handsome/ smart/ etc. he is.

warnings —- gn! reader. not proofread. cyno calls reader 'beautiful.'

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── kaveh

When your friends offered the chance for you to gush about your charming boyfriend, you truly couldn't pass up the opportunity! If it were up to you, everyone would know of his amazing feats and lovely personality, everyone would know that Kaveh is worthy of all the love he receives from you!

"Well," You slump against your palm with a dopey little grin, bashful as you try to figure out where to start. "He's incredibly smart- I mean, if only you guys could see him when he's hard at work!" You sigh, "And he's kind! You should see him around animals- ah, but I do have to stop him from taking in every stray he meets." You giggle at the memory.

You just keep only rambling about all his accomplishment and qualities. It's hard to stop you, but they're not trying to either- they're happy to hear you talk about it!

"And also," Your face grows warm, and your friends prod to see what's got you so bashful when you were rambling just seconds ago! They're giggling as you finally give in. "Well, you know, he's pretty~"

Their giggles continues as you now talk about his silky hair and gorgeous smile but their laughter dies down within seconds and you furrow your brows. What has them looking so shell-shocked?

"Guys?" You turn to follow their line of sight only to be met with a tomato-faced Kaveh. "K- Kaveh!?" You squeak, "When did you get here?" Kaveh clears his throat, twirling a strand of his hair.

"J- Just now! I didn't hear anything about my silky hair- o- or pretty... face..." His covers his face with his hand, unable to look at you. He's so flustered! Your friends usher you out of the booth and tell you to go have some time with your pretty boy~

And once again, who could you pass up such an offer?

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── alhaitham

You couldn't just sit there and let your friends assume Alhaitham wasn't romantic! You had to defend his honor! And thus, you began your complicated explanation. Your friends just rolled their eyes every time- they're thinking you most be making all of it up— but you're truly not!

"One time, when we were out on a walk, he pulled me into his side before someone could run in to me! That's very romantic you know? Had my heart racing!" You nod, but they just look you over. Was that romantic?

"Suuure." They sigh, "You know, you don't have to make up scenarios."

"I'm not!" You whine, "Oh! I know, once he had helped me get all my paperwork done! He stayed up so late with me, and when we finished he gave me a kiss and told me I worked hard! Isn't that romantic?"

"...Uhm-"

"Or," You continue to ramble on mildly romantic, although very sweet, situations you've had with Alhaitham. They all have just decided to ride this out, because you're clearly not giving up. Finally you had enough, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Whatever, you guys just don't understand, I'm done talking."

"Oh, really? I wanted to hear more." You tense up, that voice... You turn around to see Alhaitham, book in hand and a smug grin on his face. "I had no idea you felt so fiercely about this matter."

"Where-? When-? How-!?"

Biting back his chuckles, he stands from his seat and offers you a hand. "Shall we head home now? It's getting late."

"Oh! Oh, yeah," You nod, taking his hand. He helps you up, and bids your friends goodbye before you two take your leave. Perhaps he managed to sway there opinion just a little bit.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── tighnari

You were out to collect some samples with a little team of yours, when you came across a flower you'd yet to see. "Wait, don't get too close it might-" But it's too late, your sprayed with a fume of sort! Within seconds you're a dopey, giggly mess. Your poor friends are hearing you harp on about your handsome boyfriend, Tighnari.

"He's soooo handsome! You'll have to meet 'im! Such a pretty face!" Your friend groans. Why did you have to be so in love with your boyfriend? You're making this trip back to the village insufferable for all your single friends.

"And- And he's sooo cool! Really! He's a forest ranger, y'know? And super smart- he can cure me when we get back so don't even worry 'bout lil' ol' me~" You smile at the thought of Tighnari lovingly taking care of you.

"Also, his tail so soft 'nd his ears, 'nd... uhm... hmm... what was I saying? Oh right! He's just very soft 'nd lets me play with his tail whenever I'm sad!" You sigh, getting mopey now, "I miss him. I miss my boyfriend," You cry, "I wanna see Tighnari! I want my super smart and cool and handsome boyfriend to cure me!" Thankfully they drop you off at Tighnari rather quickly. Although his ears had longed picked up your lovesick rambles. He sighs, and instead of 'lovingly taking care of you' he scolds you as he administers the antidote. Thankfully he's run into this plant before.

When you awake, you don't seem to have any memory of how you were gushing about him to your friends, but he remembers. And now that he knows you're safe he can't help but tease you.

"It's a good thing I'm super smart and cool and handsome and could cure you." He says. You furrow your brows. It's not like Tighnari to brag about his genius. You nod, and he chuckles. Ah, it seems you still don't remember- but when you do, it'll be fun to see your flustered expression.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── cyno

"A- And so he said, 'How does a buffalo say goodbye to his son? Bison.'" You start cackling, whilst your friends wince. They all shared a look with each other, before giving you a pitying one. Perhaps you were really delusional. The General Mahamatra cracking jokes? And ones as bad as you had restated?

When you lift your head, wiping away the tears, you frown at their lack of laughter. Was it not funny enough? Well, that's okay, you still have a load more to tell them.

Of course, as you continue on with the terrible puns and jokes, you don't seem to notice that Cyno has arrived at the café where you said you'd be. He didn't mean to eavesdrop but upon hearing his name he feared you were perhaps talking about a possible grievance you had with him. He's relieved you're telling your friends how funny he is.

In fact, Cyno feels pride swell in his chest as you retell his jokes. Sure, the delivery is not as good as his, but he's still proud that you enjoyed his jokes so much as to retell them! You find him funny! It makes him so incredibly happy.

After watching you for quite some time, you laughter turns into a small pout. It seems your friends don't believe someone as powerful as Cyno can also be funny. He decides to step in now, but not before taking notice of everyone's coffee order.

"I'm here to pick you up." He looks at your friends, "Thanks a Latte (a lot) for taking care of them in my absence." He then addresses you, smiling softly. "You look brew-ti-ful (beautiful) tonight."

You giggle at his puns, whilst your friends faces morph into a mixture of shock, terror, and disgust. You were right. He did make terrible jokes. They'd have a lot to process, but you didn't care anymore as you intertwine your fingers with Cyno's and walk home, laughing at the other jokes he decides to tell.

♡ —- thank you for reading! if you enjoyed it, please consider letting me know!

a/n: inspired by this post -> xxx by my beloved @p00pdev1l everyone say ty jazz

cw: nudes, lewd videos, pillow humping

baby 🩵

:( miss u, toru attatchment: one video

Satoru perks up at the notification banner displayed across his screen, quickly clicking on the banner before turning up his volume. He spreads further onto the hotel sheets, cock already hardening in his sweats in anticipation. The videos dark when it first starts, and he’s quick to adjust his brightness before returning with eager eyes.

He palms himself when you come into the frame, cursing at the view of your drooling cunt spread open for him. “Hi, toru,” you whisper shyly, “wanted to show you how much I’ve been missin’ you.” His cock swells at the pout on your face, wishing more than anything that his face was buried between your thighs instead of your too small fingers. He pulls his cock out as your fingers circle your clit, moaning to himself at the small whimpers leaving your pretty mouth. He’s do anything to have it wrapped around his cock right now, his own hand paling in comparison to your eager lips and warm throat. “Been thinkin’ about you,” you continue, “I thought I should thank you properly for the gift you gave me before you left.” His eyes nearly roll into his skull when you pull out the light blue stuffy he’s gifted you, but he forces his eyes to stay open to enjoy the show you’re so willingly displaying for him.

His cock twitches when you place the stuffy below your cunt, shuffling around until you’re gasping as it makes contact with your aching clit. “Shit,” he drawls, squeezing the base of his cock to stave off his early release. His fist moves in tandem with your hips, his tip leaking profusely as your hips stutter when it hits you just right. “Wish it was you instead,” you whine, hands pushing up his shirt you’ve stolen to twist at your pert nipples, “wish it was your face I was rubbin’ my pussy on. Or your cock.” You cry out as your pace increases and he wishes so, so bad that your face was in the frame so he could see the way your lips part and brows crease at the pleasure.

His hips are rutting up into his fist now, raspy moans falling from his lips when you stutter out his name as though he’s the one touching you. It fills him with an unbridled sense of possessiveness, knowing that even across the country it’s him who has you aching like this. Him who has your thighs quaking and breaths stuttering. “Wanna be filled so bad!” you cry out, “Need your cock, toru. Feels so empty without you.” He looks nothing short of depraved, nearly salivating as his fist squeezes his cock to mimic your tight heat. “Gonna cum,” you moan, “gonna cum for you, toru!” His moans grow louder, rasping out a brutal, “Cum for me,” as though he’s in the room with you.

Your back arches and your legs shake as your high washes over you, and he’s quick to follow, whispering your name into the empty room as his cum falls onto his chest. And just when he thought he couldn’t love you more, you whisper, “Wish your cum was fillin’ me instead of your fist.” Little minx, he thinks to himself, fond smile on his face when your own finally comes into the frame, murmuring a quick, “Love you, toru,” before making a kissing motion to the camera.

Toru! 🩵

Look at the mess you’ve made, sweetheart attachment: one image

˚୨୧⋆｡🍓˚ all you want - itoshi rin.

in which: rin finds out what he is most terrified of.

themes - sfw. not proofread. gender neutral (i believe, lemme know if im wrong). rin is a loser in love so yay. | wc 0.6k

itoshi rin is an intimidating man. his tall silhouette adds to his unapproachable persona, which he embodies with a glued sore expression, almost always looking as if ready for slaughter. (he is)

rin himself has been aware of this fact; it is hard not to be after years of noticing the small mannerisms of nervousness people only tend to carry around him. he feels bad about it sometimes, but, oh well.

with such a demeanor, rin has the confidence to rarely ever think of what might spook him. truthfully, he cannot be blamed either. this man watches horror movies as a hobby, claiming "it's the only media that interests him". forget fictional horror, he isn't even bothered by realistic sights of blood, be it his own or somebody else's; a very small part of the reason why he didn't think twice before swinging at shidou during practice today.

itoshi rin terrifies everyone and is never terrified of anyone.

so why, why is he shaking in his boots right now at the sight of your stern expression?

"rin."

he held his breath, mentally preparing himself to confront the storm ahead.

"you forgot to buy strawberries."

crap. the ingredient had completely slipped his mind.

"sorry," he sighed, in transparent defeat. "i remembered your text after arriving."

"it's okay," you went back to shuffling through drawers like your usual self. except, it wasn't usual to rin. your cheeky smile he adored so much became replaced with a pout today.

no no no—please don't be sad. not over strawberries.

"i'll go back and get them right now," he shuffled in his trouser pockets for his car keys, determined to get you those red little troublemakers.

your hand clutched a flap of his jacket before he got moving. "rin, it's okay. really."

"i'll be back shortly," he glared daggers into your hand restricting him—conflicted if he is in a position to remove any willing touch you provided him at the moment.

he hoped you would just let go—which you did. but now, it wasn't just a hand clinging to him. it was your entire being.

"you don't have to," you hugged him, murmuring sentences with the same look from before.

itoshi rin sighed, his second time today, but this was out of pure endearment. "then stop looking so upset, dumbass."

though his words carried a harsh stream, his tender hands cupping your jaw contradicted all the possible roughness.

"i'm not upset," you claimed. "you're pouting," he swiped a thumb across your slightly fluffed up lips to prove a point you seemed to be missing. "well, i just wanted to make those cupcakes."

the stoic man's heart clutched again at your painfully adorable wish. slowly, he leaned to press his forehead against yours. "so, let me get them."

at his adamancy, you chuckled, a sound that melted away the tension in the room. "baby, you really don't have to go back for strawberries. i can survive a night without them."

"i know you can," he left a quick kiss on your lips. "but, i want you to have everything you want. especially the little things."

perhaps you grew accustomed to his physical affection, but his verbal love still held you captive after all this time. long gone were the sweetly sour fruits from your mind, all it consisted of was itoshi rin.

"what if i want something not so little?" you tip-toed to reach your boyfriend towering over you.

immediately, getting your cue, he grabbed on to your figure, bringing his lips to align with yours passionately.

"can give you that too."

10:30 am.

the next morning, as sunshine spilled through the kitchen windows, you found a crimson surprise awaiting you at the counter. three full containers of strawberries had been neatly arranged in a column and residing beside them were a pair of oven mitts. the last thing he left for you to spot was a note attached to the thermal gloves.

"for your cupcakes. don't burn yourself." — rin itoshi.

vanilla soft serve

Word count: 14.7k

Warnings: smut

Summary: you smile foolishly, the smile of a loser in love

Nagito Komaeda doesn't like himself.

He feels he's established it a lot with his class already. There was little to question when the island only had 16 students and two of them were already dead. Though, he supposes that it isn't that much. He wonders who's going to feed him. He scared Mahiru out, after all. Maybe Mahiru would die from the second motive! That would surely bring his class hope, would it not? He shifts uncomfortably on the wood, trying to get on his back. How pathetic of him.

Little light spills through the room. He had forgotten to ask Mahiru to turn the lights on before she left. He gives up halfway, staring up at the ceiling instead. Would you visit him? His precious little lover? Maybe you would. Who knows. You seemed pretty fine when he had gone insane during the first trial. Maybe you'd leave him for another ultimate. Maybe Hajime? Who knows. Trash like him doesn't deserve to hang on to you anyways. You're such a symbol of hope, yet you were dirtying yourself with him.

The door to the room opens, and the light turns on. He hears you cough twice.

"Did you come to visit trash like me?"

You ignore his words.

Ah. You're mad.

Komaeda holds his breath as you step in front of him, staring down at him. You crouch to his level, buttering the toast, crossing your legs, holding the bread to his lips.

"Angel, are you ma-"

You shove the food in his mouth, forcing him to chew. You stare blankly at him as he does, and he swallows. You press the cup of water to his lips, being kind enough to give him a straw. Komaeda drinks without speaking, understanding that you wanted some sort of quiet. He finishes the rest of the food with your help, staring at you blankly once the tray is finished.

"I'm sorry." The word feels dry on his lips, and he keeps his head hung.

You stare at him for what seems like forever before you stand up with the tray. "I'll be back for lunch."

Komaeda watches the door to the room close, but the light remains.

How kind of you.

You come back during lunch as promised; this time, the atmosphere much gentler.

"Open up," You blow on the rice and meat, holding it to Komaeda's lips. He chews, sitting up this time, his stomach in less pain. He was bony all over, now that he thought about it. You stare at the way his skin sticks to his ribs, and you get another spoonful of rice.

The two of you sit there, Komaeda eating silently, and you lost in thought. You finish the bowl, no rice left behind, and you help the straw to Komaeda's lips. He finishes the juice and pauses.

"Do... you have the key?"

"Give it a moment." You wait for the body announcement to be made, and Komaeda watches as you have Monomi untie him. You follow behind him as he rushes to the bathroom first.

You're still not talking to him.

You wait outside the door as he finishes, and he takes your hand as you reach out to him. You step to the game, and you play. Komaeda instructs you from behind, and the two of you finish. You stare at the prize. Between the killing and executions, Komaeda wonders if you even like him all that much. You hand him the image, and you stare at him. Ah, you want him to talk.

"Well," Komaeda smiles. "I know who the killer is."

"I know you do." You stare at the picture in your hands.

Komaeda thinks you've been strange. Ever since meeting him in middle school, the only thing you had obsessed over was what year it was and what would happen. You had gone to the point of obsessing it to the point of madness, Komaeda thinks. The only thing you had ever talked about when you woke up on the island was who was going to reveal what and what was going to happen to who. You had accurately predicted the death of Twogami, revealing Teruteru as the killer, yet Komaeda had gone mad anyways. You had told him to stay sane during the trip. It wouldn't be the first time someone's been frustrated with him.

Komaeda feels something familiar for you.

You stare at the photo with such a strong sense of nostalgia that it seems hard to believe that it could be anything else. Nagito Komaeda knew something that you did as well. Maybe that was why you picked him. He had the fastest brain that even Hinata couldn't use. Maybe he was meant to be a pretty tool to display in your arsenal that you would never touch. You never let him touch you first, and you never let him do anything without consulting you first. It was as if you had to control what he did.

Yet, he doesn't find it in himself to question you.

He had spent a year in Hope's Peak with you. What did you mean he was eighteen? It was already messed up from the start to you, maybe. Komaeda had watched you panic and only calm down when the future seemed to play out how you predicted it would. You were terribly anxious, chewing on your lips and biting your nails. Komaeda wonders if you had just dated him in order to have a caretaker. Komaeda supposes he spoils you rotten. Well, nothing wrong with spoiling an ultimate.

"What's wrong?" He stares at you as you stare at the sun.

"I miss my home."

Right. There was that too. You had always mumbled quietly when you were fazed out, silently praying for something to kill you. Komaeda didn't understand why you wanted to die so desperately. You were an ultimate, and you had everything you had seemed to want, yet you always talked about home. You missed... your home. It was strange to think that the only constant in his life was desperate to leave him. Maybe he was just destined to be alone.

You had stuck next to him even as Hinata was passed out, and you had rocked on your feet anxiously as he had met the other students, memorizing voice lines and counting fingers. You seemed to hate when you were unfamiliar with things. Komaeda held a hand over yours when you ran out of fingers, helping you keep count of whatever it was you were counting. When you counted to sixteen, you had stopped. You had looked at Komaeda, lips pulled into a frown. "Complete."

Komaeda's handbook had struck a chord when you finished meeting everyone and told him it was complete. His memory of you wasn't like that the more he thinks about it. You had always tried staying positive in the past, even when you seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the street, head spinning. You didn't know what he was saying. You didn't understand him. You were just a foreigner lost in the streets of Tokyo, and Komaeda had been kind enough to take you in. There was nothing more to it, and there was nothing less.

It's strange to think that you were now fluent in Japanese after only a handful of lessons from Komaeda.

When Komaeda won the lottery into Hope's Peak, you had written a letter to the Steering Committee, claiming you were an isekai victim. Komaeda had vouched, and after some digging into records, yours didn't come up, leading to your admittance. He doesn't know what you had to do in order to join the school, but when you headed home quietly and slumped into the pillows, he knew better than to ask.

The ultimate unknown.

You hated the title, but you had accepted it. In exchange, you were to reveal nothing to the class and stay silent at all times. Komaeda had watched you stop talking to the class, going mute, only communicating with your body language. Even when you had asked Komaeda out, it had been through drawing on his palm away from the sight of the rest of the school. He didn't understand why you had listened to them so thoroughly or why you had grimaced whenever you saw the underclassmen. Though, Komaeda doesn't remember who the underclassmen were either.

His second year at Hope's Peak was on an island. There was no way he would know.

On the island, you still kept silent. The class knew you were quiet, so no one questioned it, but Komaeda had hoped you would at least speak to him. You didn't like to. You spoke even less when he pissed you off. You had known that he would kill Twogami and tried to interfere, and the only thing that resulted in was the murder being pinned on you. Komaeda had half-expected that you would thank him when he explained he planned it, but instead, you had stared quietly at him. It was as if you hadn't cared that he was pining the blame on you and taking it back.

When you had searched the body, you had stared at Komaeda. You hadn't spoke, but you had mouthed the words. He knew what you meant. He definitely knew what you meant. You were just waiting for him to make the decision himself. Even as he was being dragged off and begging for you to understand, you had stared lifelessly at him. It was as if you were desensitized and didn't care at all. Komaeda doesn't know how a person like you exists.

You were weird.

You wander into Mahiru's room, staring at Komaeda, telling him to investigate without a word.

Komaeda thinks he was chosen to be your servant as you leave the cottage.

Yet, as you smack him in the back of his head and bow to Chiaki and Hinata in apology, he thinks you take more than enough responsibility.

Before the trial, you always scribble down what you can and can't remember to hand to Hinata. It's a cheat sheet that Komaeda isn't allowed to look at. He wonders if they're love letters sometimes, but as you're crying and holding back quiet tears in your cottage in the dead of night, he leaves you be. Even if it was a love letter, he wasn't going to let you keep everything to yourself. Hinata had pushed through each trial without error, and Komaeda suspects that you had been behind everything. You were the puppetmaster, maybe.

You even got to punt Monokuma when you were mad enough.

Though, Komaeda stares at you during trials, forming words with your hands and crossing your arms when a student got something wrong. You were charismatic. He didn't deserve you, the class didn't deserve you, the world didn't deserve you. You knew what was going to happen, clinging onto Fuyuhiko with your life as he tried running to Peko, face burrowed into his arm as the rest of the class helped you hold him back. You couldn't speak in front of them, Komaeda had realized. You pull on Komaeda's sleeve desperately. He supposes that's all you need to do.

"Do not atone for a crime you did not commit." Komaeda reads your eyes. "You must survive for her. You must survive for Peko..." Komaeda gets on a knee to wipe the tears from your eyes. "The crime was not instigated by you, so there is no need to-"

"What do you mean it wasn't instigated by me?! I was the one who told her to kill her!"

"A lie." Komaeda holds you to his chest as you cry quietly. "It's a lie. She killed her out of her own volition."

"She-"

You pass out in Komaeda's arms, and Fuyuhiko grabs him by the shirt as Chiaki reaches to catch you.

Ah.

"I was just conveying my angel's words." Komaeda holds his hands up innocently.

You wake up the next morning to Hiyoko's memorial for Mahiru. The class berates the girl as you blow out the candles and replace them one by one. You have Nekomaru help you remove the skull, replacing it with flowers instead. You finish by the time of the announcement that a new island had popped up. Komaeda stares at the memorial, and you pull him with you as you go explore the new island. He praises you quietly under his breath, and you answer quietly too. You stick close to Fuyuhiko with Komaeda, peering at the shorter every now and then to make sure he's alright. Komaeda is almost jealous of how much attention you give him. Yet, you keep Komaeda close anyways.

As expected, the next day, Fuyuhiko tries cutting his stomach open to repent. You react immediately as soon as he speaks, knocking him down and throwing the knife from his hands, cutting your own in the process. You stare at him wide-eyed, holding your hands up in the form of an X. He stares up at you, furious that you would interrupt him, but you stare down at him sternly, only getting up to take the knife before he could. Komaeda watches everything unfold, wondering if he had done something wrong for you to straddle another. He doesn't question it.

Especially not when you press your lips to his cheek later that night before bed as he bandages your hand.

When he wakes up, he brushes his fingers against your hair, mumbling about how pretty you were. You were pretty. He doesn't know what draws him to you, but you're pretty. Maybe he'll wake up every morning to you.

"ah... how filthy," Komaeda doesn't register that his words are coming out wrong. He continues to pour praises about how pretty you are, the fever making it so that he thinks he's praising you. That's when he realizes he's sick. He's feverish all over, and you hadn't spoken when he draped himself on you, eyes fluttering, almost drunk. When the two of you make it to the restaurant, you sit down in a seat, mumbling quietly. You pull him with you as Monokuma explains the new motive. Komaeda's sure he's mumbling nothing but disgusting words into your ear as you support him, but you seem unphased.

As Mikan tends to him in the hospital and you sit in his room, you start speaking.

"Komaeda-kun, I'm sure you won't remember any of this," You hum, turning to look to the side. "But I love you a lot, alright?"

"I hate you too."

Komaeda clings on to you as you sleep next to him, wrapping his hand around yours tightly, squeezing it every now and then. He stares down at your sleeping form. He could kill you here. He could end the motive right there. He has a weak body, and he isn't sure if he could survive if he continues to be sick. He loves you a lot; he mumbles. He's pathetically in love with how pretty you are. He wonders if the words reach you.

The days in the hospital are boring at first. You try playing cards with him, only to find that he's too sick to do so. That only feeds your boredom. At some point, you grow so bored that you start playing smash or pass with Komaeda. He has no idea what you mean, but you show him images and recall celebrities, asking Komaeda smash or pass. At some point, you start naming classmates and students.

"Hinata."

"Half pass."

"Me?"

"Pass."

"Really?" You spring out of your seat, eyes wide, staring down at him.

"You heard me. Pass." Komaeda grimaces at you, and you blink at him happily.

"I'd smash you too."

Komaeda really wants to tell you how lovestruck he is with you, but he supposes he doesn't need to as you climb into bed with him. You blink at him curiously, and he moves his hand to pinch your cheeks. He frowns, his mind telling him that he's smiling. He sneers when he thinks he's mumbling, and he coughs when he thinks his breath is caught in his throat. There are so many weird things going on with his body.

"When was the last time we fucked again?"

"We've fucked plenty."

"I guess that makes sense," You close your eyes, leaning your ear on his chest. "Your heart is beating quickly."

"It's 'cause you're disgusting."

"Whatever you say," You drift off, and Komaeda finds himself staring down at you. He wonders what his eyes look like. Does it look the way that his parents and the couples on the street did? Maybe he does. He wonders how much he could love a person. His heart feels as though it's going to burst at any moment. You were... he brushes your hair to the side, pressing his lips to your forehead. Maybe he wouldn't remember this once he recovered.

How pretty.

In the bright morning, Komaeda feels his lungs tighten and starts coughing. You get out of bed, blinking slowly. Ah. You caught it too. Yet, you call Mikan into the room anyways, watching as she starts tending to Komaeda full-time. You try your best to blink the disease off and come off as fine. You don't know how you're acting. Yet as Mikan holds the pillow in her hand, you remember something. You push her to the ground, eyes animalistic, chest heaving, a psychotic grin on your face. You stare down at her, straddling her, nails bloodied with her skin and blood.

Mikan scurries off in fear, and you sit on the ground, blood from Mikan's skin in your nails.

You bite your nails, lucking the blood, staring at Hinata as he enters the room.

By the time you're conscious again, there are two bodies.

Komaeda's the one to wake you. You sit up on the hospital bed, rubbing your eyes as Komaeda stares at you. The room is an eerie shade of white, and your head spins deliriously as you try and recall what had happened. Komaeda stands there, staring down at you, waiting for you to adjust to the feeling of being conscious again. You hold on to him as you steady yourself, and your mouth opens as you're conscious again.

"Two people died."

You nod slowly.

"Come on."

You follow Komaeda as he starts investigating, and you glance at the two dead bodies. Ibuki is hung on the rope, and you stare up at her body as Hinata lowers it to the floor. You stare quietly; lifelessly; almost as if you were the body itself. You don't feel real, still. Komaeda rubs his hand on your back gently, and you blink slowly. Then, you stare at Hiyoko's body as the ladder is put up to search the body and check for clues. You have a couple of hours, you think. You know who the killer is, and you were so sure that Komaeda might have died if you had not stayed in the same room as him. The rest of the class decides to search for more evidence elsewhere as you and Komaeda stay behind.

"It's a shame," You mumble under your breath as Komaeda searches Ibuki's body. "I liked Ibuki too."

Komaeda stares at you.

"Do you like me too?"

You only nod in response.

He doesn't remember. Komaeda thinks he's forgetting something as he progresses through the investigation. He did something with you. You did something with him. You call Hinata with movie tickets, waving your hand for him. You leave Komaeda in his place as you enter the movie theatre with Hinata. Komaeda only knows to wait outside the theatre, and halfway through the movie, you open the door to pull him in as well. Maybe you didn't forget him. Though, Hinata was sitting next to you. It makes him uncomfortable.

Hinata looks frazzled as you sit back next to him, and you tilt your head.

It was a bad movie, according to Hinata. You point at the ticket, and Komaeda opens his mouth to help you translate. Hinata cuts him off.

"Keep the ticket, right? Thank you," Hinata smiles.

Komaeda gets insecure easily, now that he thinks about it. He stares at you as you slip something to Hinata before the trial, and Komaeda fiddles with his fingers. Maybe you would leave him for Hinata one day. You step back next to him, taking his hand in yours, playing with his fingers. Komaeda's breath catches in his throat, and he swallows thickly. How painful. Were you going to play him even until you decide to leave him? How could you be so cruel?

Maybe he would tell you he's scared one day.

You argue from next to Hinata, explaining everything from start to the end of your memories.

Ah.

Komaeda watches as you blaze next to Hinata, and his heart sinks. You... looked much better with him. Was that your fate? To leave him? Maybe he would be a stepping stone for your hope. There was no way you would love him so much. Komaeda keeps the trial moving as you stare at him. It's like he's reading a script out of your eyes. And the culprit tumbles out of your eyes right onto Komaeda's lips as he turns to stare at Mikan.

"Mikan was the killer." Komaeda stares at Mikan, tilting his head. "Ultimate Despair."

You want to leave your podium and yank him, but he goes on a tangent, and you stare at Komaeda until he notices.

"Ah, angel," He swallows. "Sorry."

Hinata continues with the trial, and you go silent to stare at Komaeda. He... had ruined your streak, didn't he? Of course, he wasn't worth sticking around you, but he had thought just for a moment. Maybe. Maybe you would let him. Turns out he was wrong. He stays quiet for the rest of the trial, letting you do what you were supposed to before he had interrupted.

Mikan is deduced as the killer, and Mikan is executed. You stand on an orchestrated stage, and Komaeda tries going up to you after the trial. You let him stand next to you, but you don't let him talk to you. You aren't responding. Not even with your eyes. You avoid his gaze as he follows you. Even as you sit down in the cottage and pull him into bed, you don't talk to him. Komaeda catches your eyes once. You look hurt.

He's scared to touch you tonight.

Yet, as you snuggle to his back as he seems to be asleep, maybe you'll find it in your heart to forgive him.

Another island is unlocked the next day, and Komaeda's scared to face you.

You get out of bed without reaching to wake him, and you shower first thing. It's strange. He sits in the room as he stares at you leave the bathroom, tower wrapped around your chest.

"I'm sorry," the words tumble out of his lips. "let me... make it up to you?"

You stare at him, tilting your head. "how?"

He steps up to you, getting on his knees, glancing up at you.

"Can I?"

You stare down at him, swallowing. "Yeah."

You pull him to the bed, and he shakes slightly as you sit on the bed.

You're naked before him. In front of him. You're naked from head to toe. Komaeda takes your body in quietly. When was the last time you were bare before him? When was the last time you had let him touch you like this? God, what if he doesn't remember what you like? Maybe you'd push him off. Maybe you'd get even angrier at him. He doesn't realize he's shaking until you're speaking.

"Stop thinking so hard," You frown, reaching for his face, propping up on your elbows.

"Sorry."

Komaeda eats you out desperately. You don't recall a moment when he wasn't writhing to please you to the moon and back. You suppose he drinks up whatever reaction you give to him. His eyes are half-lidded, pressing a kiss to your clit before starting. Komaeda likes taking his time. He's spent hours between your legs drawing orgasms out of your body before finally tending to you, usually leaking and in pain. You wonder if he can feel how painful it is.

Komaeda likes sitting between your legs. He feels it's fitting for someone who should be nothing more than a mere tool to the ultimates like you. You were being kind enough, letting him dirty you with his body. He's a little messy, he thinks, but you like it when he makes a mess. You never berate him for making a mess. Maybe you were a blessing just for him. Who knows.

Your fingers tangle in the sheets as Komaeda sits between your legs, hands keeping your legs opened, tongue prodding and twisting inside of you. Your breathy moans fill the room, your breath quickening as Komaeda grows more desperate to get you to cum. It's strange. Nothing feels right. You usually cum from his tongue alone. Was he getting worse? He's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize you've already cum and you're writhing in overstimulation.

"K-ko," You whine. "S-stop,"

Komaeda stops immediately, apologies spilling out of his lips in terror.

Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, and you close your eyes.

"We'll be doing that a lot more soon," Your breath catches in your throat as you sit up, and Komaeda grabs a towel to clean you off.

Komaeda doesn't understand your words until Monokuma is telling the class that they're stuck with no food until someone commits a crime. You rock on your feet, glancing at Komaeda. He thinks he understands now. Yet, as you leave him outside, heading into the final dead room, Komaeda's uneasy. You bet Monokuma that requires five bullets in a revolver of six. When the sound of a gun goes down and you stare at your hands, you know you won. Glancing at Monokuma, he hands you the file begrudgingly, complaining about how it was pure luck that you had won the file.

Your own name is found, and you stare blankly at the file.

Komaeda watches you return to bed that same night, still silent as ever. He coughs twice, and he stares at you.

"Hungry?" You stare at him.

Komaeda holds his breath.

"What's wrong?"

"You'll find out."

Komaeda has dinner as you do.

Komaeda drags you downstairs with him as the two of you head to Monokuma Tai Chi. A body announcement is made, and you stare across the room. Komaeda helps investigate, and he turns to stare at you. You lead him to the final dead room, laughing dryly as you look at the door again. Komaeda waits for you to get it out of your system before asking you anything. He's the ultimate luck. It'd only make sense for him to enter the room.

"May I..."

"Come back alive." You stare at Komaeda as he opens the door to the final dead room.

"Ah." Komaeda stares down at the book, heart quivering. He has to make a choice, doesn't he? He has to worry about.

This trial, Komaeda keeps silent. You don't tell him to speak, and you don't speak through him either. He feels as if he's stuck. A crossroad of destiny, perhaps. Star-crossed. It feels terrible. Komaeda doesn't know what this does to the two of you. Were you even considered lovers? How could Komaeda date someone that was the ultimate despair even though he was one too? Even as the two of you return home and you don't speak, Komaeda feels his own words caught in his throat, unsure how to ask.

"I'm in a coma," You stare at Komaeda.

"And you're... an ultimate despair."

You blink slowly.

"Yeah."

"What does..."

"We're on even ground," You exhale. "The world ended at our hands. It's that's simple."

Komaeda's voice catches in his throat, heart breaking. He shakes as you sit there, staring at him back in the room of your cabins. The stars spill secrets that neither of you speak up about, and you don't dare to meet his eyes. It was terrifying for you. You didn't know if he would leave you or do something. You get out of bed for the first time since arriving on the island, and your voice shakes as you speak.

"I'll... sleep in my cabin tonight." You mumble, rushing off.

Komaeda sits there without moving until the sun rises.

You're... an ultimate despair. You were an ultimate who caused despair. The entire class was. There was a single person on the entire island that didn't cause despair and it wasn't you. But. But. You had. You had just. You were. You were his entire symbol of hope. How could it be that you had known the entire time? You knew everything. From start to finish, you were orchestrating it all? Was that... what you were? Was he actually just a puppet in your play?

Komaeda checks on you the third day, wondering if you had spiraled as bad as he did. You're in your room, biting your nails, connecting red strings to others, desperate to get your thoughts in tow. There was one last trial. There was one last trial. One final person had to die. You couldn't let a single flaw escape from your fingers for this last trial. You chew on your lip, mumbling words to yourself over and over again. You're going to end up in tears. You don't remember the last time you felt this terrible.

Your hair is disheveled as you arrange the papers again, desperate to find the pattern. You have to know. You can't do it. You can't live knowing you'll never wake up and Komaeda one day will. You can't let him die. He can't die. How could you just let him die? You can leave the death to yourself. Worst comes to worst, you die with him. It's not that hard, right? You were just in a coma in real life. You don't know if you'd wake up with the rest of the class when they're all discharged.

Komaeda stares at you quietly.

"Angel?"

You turn your head to stare at him, deer in headlights, heart racing, dried tear stains on your cheeks. Komaeda has never seen you look so disheveled before. He lowers himself to his knees, brushing your hair back, pausing to see what you wanted. what you needed. You needed him, perhaps. You needed him just as badly as he needed you. He had to remember that. He was useless without you just as you were without him; even if the two of you were an ultimate despair.

"What's wrong?"

You burst into tears, coughing from the tears and pressure of it all. You hack furiously, hiccupping and sobbing into his arms. Drool slips past your lips and snot gets all over Komaeda's sleeve as he reaches to catch you before you collapsed onto the ground and bowed all the way to the ground. He couldn't let you do that for trash like him. But why... why were you crying like that? You looked more terrified than miserable.

"Don't die." You mumble, staring at the floor, still dissociated. "Please don't die. I'll kill myself if you don't do it. Please." Your fingers dig into his skin, and he pauses. You break his pause with more words. "Please don't kill yourself. I'm... I'm begging you. don't die. don't die. Please, don't die. Don't die, Ko. I'll kill everyone else on the island if it makes you feel better since I'm a dirty sinner anyways. I'll-"

"Angel," Komaeda cups your face, tilting your chin to stare at him. "Angel, it's okay. It's going to be okay. Come on-"

You cough, a mess of snot and tears in his arms. You lean in his arms pathetically, throat dry, eyes dead with exhaustion. Komaeda feels bad. Was he the reason you looked so terrible? He should make up for it somehow. Yet, as you cough furiously in his arms and only quiet down after he shushes you quietly, drawing circles on your skin. You look beyond repair. You look as though your entire life was crashing before your eyes, and you were without hope.

"Angel," Komaeda lowers his face to yours. "What's wrong?

You sniff pathetically.

"What's going to happen?"

You refuse to tell him. You stand up instead, staring at the scattered papers on the ground, kicking them all out of order, picking them up, and making Komaeda stand outside as you do so. You go back to sticking around him without telling him anything. You need the final motive, sure, but you wanted Komaeda to stay. Was it selfish? Komaeda reads the words off of you in waves. He sits in the dining room. Maybe reading you was harder for him.

He's not opposed to the idea of killing himself for the better hope. He obeys your word, after all.

"Why are you helping?" Komaeda watches as you tie the rope to him.

You decided dying with him was the best option.

"I'm going to miss her," You sit down next to him, legs tucked to your chest, leaning your cheek on your knees.

"Chiaki?"

"She doesn't have a body," You hum lowly. "You won't ever see her again."

"Ah." Komaeda's eyes widen as you stab yourself with the same knife. "What about you?"

You smile.

You avoid the topic.

"You know, Ko," You trace his face on your arm, "I love you a lot."

"Really?"

"Yeah," You smile. "I hope you remember that."

You die with Komaeda. The two of you sit in the room talking before the rest of the class breaks in, the poison killing the both of you instantly. You don't remember much after that. You wake up in the darkness, looking around. It's boring, you think. It would take at least a day or two for the game to wrap up. The pixels form before your eyes, and you stare at your hand as you end up in the void.

You find yourself wandering in the void, running at some point, walking in others. You're waiting for the system to be shut down so you can go back into the comatose state. Chiaki appears after searching for a little while. You run over to her, sitting down next to her. She smiles at you, handing you a notepad in case you needed it. You ditch it. She's a robot. It wouldn't kill to tell her.

"Are you well?"

"I hope we get to meet again," You blurt.

Chiaki blinks slowly. "You... speak."

You grin. "I do. My real talent has nothing to do with being the ultimate unknown. I am just a fortunate isekai victim."

So you talk with Chiaki. While Komaeda's mind forms a world where which isn't demented, you sit in the void, talking to Chiaki, playing imaginary cards and spilling your secrets. You don't know when you'll wake up. Chiaki reports what's going on outside every now and then, explaining who's awake and who's yet to wake up. Komaeda holds on to his fantasy that everything is normal. You know he does.

Chiaki speaks up one day.

"Your body is showing signs of waking up."

You pause. "Really?"

"Komaeda woke up two days ago. According to Hinata... he's also," She doesn't know how to tell you.

"Just say it."

"Komaeda got hit by a truck. He's conscious but severely injured."

"Is that why I'm waking up?"

"Yeah." Chiaki laughs lightheartedly. "I'll miss playing imaginary cards."

"I will too," You smile at her.

You wake up a day later, sitting up in your pod, blinking slowly at your hands.

Your legs have no strength, you find.

Naegi is kind enough to put you in the same hospital room as Komaeda, and you pull the curtain between the two beds down, grinning at Komaeda.

"Good morning." You smile.

Komaeda smiles back at you.

You do physical therapy with Mikan's help in the room, and your legs are restored as Komaeda is recovered.

"We should get married," You sit by his bed, leaning on your palm as he blinks at you slowly. Komaeda laughs airily, coughing when his lungs start hurting.

"I wonder what kind of suffering I would have to go through if we do."

"I'll bear half of it," You grin cheekily. "Til death do us part, after all."

"But we're not married," He hums.

"Not yet," You rest your head on his hand, humming to yourself. You stare at his ring finger, lips pulled into a smile.

"You plan on marrying trash like me?"

"You're not trash," You close your eyes. "You woke me up from an indefinite coma, did you not?"

Komaeda sighs. "But you were still injured."

"It's better than nothing," You doze off. "love..."

You stay quiet for the most part, making noises and showing improvement in vocal therapy. Komaeda sits with you some days in the wheelchair as you open your mouth to speak. Other days, he does physical therapy on the side while you learn to speak. The two of you return to your hospital room and talk about everything when you finish. There was no need for security when the island was only with so many people.

"What did you learn today?"

"Names," You start counting on your fingers. "Komaeda, Hinata, Fuyuhiko, the list goes on."

"That's it?"

"We start verbs tomorrow since I accidentally pronounced your name a little too well."

Komaeda chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist lazily. "Is it fun?"

"No," You mumble back, voice just as sleepy as his. "I hate it."

There's little to do in a hospital, you think. You play cards with Komaeda when you're bored, and other days you play chopsticks. The majority of the time, the two of you sit there in silence during the day. When it's night, the two of you are too tired to do anything, so there's little to no conversation. Komaeda offers to pretend to teach you how to speak so the two of you can communicate. You refuse him.

You decide a miracle would be funnier.

You start speaking to Komaeda during the day to see who notices first. The two of you bet on different students. Komaeda bets on Hinata, and you bet on Mikan.

You win the bet as you're rambling about how shit the school is to Komaeda on a Thursday afternoon immediately after class and Mikan walks in to check up on you. Komaeda needs to be discharged, so you win the bet instead of him. You think it's a trade-off you're fine with. Komaeda being healed at the cost of anything for you was more than worth the price. You just wished he cared a little more about himself.

"I-If you can speak fluently," Mikan stares at the papers in her hands. "Th-then it's completely pointless to k-keep you here!"

You smile. "I've been able to talk. I just—" You pause to think of the word. "have been told to keep quiet."

Hinata runs check-ups with Mikan on you as you speak to them normally. You're fine to go; you're told. Komaeda takes you back to your shared cabin, grinning from ear to ear as you stretch your arms. It's surprising that you could speak so well. You don't know what to do. You don't know the amount of time that passes from one event to the next, and you chew on your bottom lip as you sit in your room.

Komaeda pulls your bottom lip from your teeth, handing you a cup of tea instead.

"What's wrong?"

You blink slowly. "We have one final event. Has Hinata looked for Mitarai?"

"He has. Why?"

You pause before closing your mouth. You grimace slowly, and Komaeda sits on the floor with you, tilting his head to stare at you properly. You look older. You've aged. Your anxiety is much worse than while in the simulation, and he does his best to fix you. You can't fix someone if you're broken as well.

Komaeda finishes therapy and accompanies you to your sessions, easing you into the sessions slowly. It's an improvement. You learn to calm down and loosen up. It's something about how you have to let go of control. It's scary. Komaeda's told to take care of you to whatever extent he can manage, and make you feel as though you have something to lean on that isn't predestinated knowledge. Komaeda doesn't know if he's really suited for the position, but he doesn't find it in himself to doubt you.

You recover slowly, and it seems as though your recovery process reverts as soon as the third killing game begins. You stare in horror at the livestream while everyone on the island starts gearing up. You don't know what to feel. That was the last you knew about the series. It was the last you knew about anything. It was. It was terrifying. You wouldn't know anything about the future, and you had been living off of the knowledge you had. How... how do you survive? What happens to the remnants? Do they return to the island? Do they go somewhere else? Wasn't the final killing game on the island?

When Komaeda returns on the boat, he brings a small gift with him. You collapse on him as he exits the boat, and Komaeda stays on the ground even as he helps you up. You wipe your tears with a frown, and you pause when you notice he hasn't stood up. You tilt your head, getting back on your knees to stare at him in curiosity. Komaeda laughs awkwardly, getting up. He... he can't just ask you to stay with him in front of everyone. It might make you feel obligated to say yes to him. He presses kisses to your forehead instead, laughing airily and joking about how you took his breath away. You smack him lightly in retaliation, embarrassment all over your face.

But days are mundane to Komaeda once they return to the island. You walk with him in the mornings, and you sit with him during mealtimes. The rest of the class gets along with you well, and the two of you do everything together. Komaeda fears you'll grow bored of him. His hesitation seeps into the things the two of you do normally, and you notice his change in behavior immediately. You never mention anything as he tries to pull away slowly, and you find yourself sitting in empty bedrooms, waiting for Komaeda to return. Some days, he doesn't. Other days, he returns when it's morning and the energy has been drained out of your soul.

You think you're doing something wrong. You don't understand why he's so desperate to leave you. Maybe you're doing something wrong. Maybe you're of no more use now that you don't know the future anymore. It eats you away slowly as you sit at the diner, chewing down breakfast slowly. Teruteru asks if it's because you don't like the food, and you assure him it's not. You wonder if you just have your emotions written all over your face. Though, no one else on the island mentions anything as you eat less and less. You wonder if Komaeda eats at all.

Well, communication is key, you suppose.

You rub your eyes slowly as the sun rises, and you mumble to yourself. Komaeda hasn't come back again.

You close your eyes and fall asleep on the couch. The bed is too big without him around.

Komaeda returns to the cottage to grab his things.

His heart drops to his stomach as he sees you sleeping on the couch. You... you don't like him. Why are you eating yourself away so that you'll continue to like him even if he treats you terribly? You have so many more people that could fall in love with you and date, yet you were killing yourself over someone as unimportant as him. He grabs the blanket from the bed, and he covers you with it, turning around to get his stuff.

"Nagito Komaeda." Your voice comes out surprisingly clear for someone who was asleep. You don't move, but Komaeda can tell you want him to stay.

"I'm sorry." He grabs what he was looking for, and you sob quietly as the door to the cottage closes with a click.

The depression chips at you slowly. You stay pooled in your cottage, relying on classmates sending food to you and only eating small portions. You wonder how bad you must have it when even Teruteru's cooking doesn't lift your spirits. Your talent no longer exists. Is that why Komaeda no longer wants you? You sit there in your room, rotting away, the blanket wrapped around your body, your existence slowly slipping away, dissociating, fading in and out, sometimes bleeding at the wrist and other times bleeding at the fingertips.

But the depression disappears one day as your brain goes into autopilot. You pack your things by yourself, and you stare at the photo of you and Komaeda on the coffee table, putting it face down as you open your laptop to reach Naegi. You want to leave the island. Your talent is the ultimate unknown, so it'd only make sense that you end up somewhere that no one knows about.

You leave the island in the dead of night, your presence completely erased along with it.

You sit in the helicopter, staring at the setting moon and rising sun, watching the stars twinkle out of life and clouds grow more visible. Maybe it was something you were supposed to do from the start. Maybe it was something that you were meant to do. You were supposed to be isekaied by now, right? That was the plan? You chew on your bottom lip as you land in the future foundation headquarters, and you go through the process with a new identity, making your way of life in the remnants of the city, the broken buildings now slowly coming back to life. You try to ignore the lack of consciousness as you do everything.

Komaeda thinks he hallucinated your entire existence when he steps into your shared cottage the day you left. You hadn't been at breakfast for the seventh time that week, and he drops the tray of food at the sight of a clean and neat cottage. It was impossible for someone who was as shattered as you to do. It's impossible. He looks around the cottage urgently, crying, begging, praying that there was a trace of you to remember just for a moment.

There's nothing.

So instead, Komaeda runs back to the restaurant, opening the doors panting. The class turns to stare at him, and his breath catches in his throat as he doesn't know how to explain that you had just disappeared without a trace off of the island. His breathing turns static as he coughs and cries, trying to explain through his pathetic sobs that you had just disappeared, and you were gone without a trace, and that you had just left as if you were never there, and that he wanted to apologize and try to talk it out with you but he had found an empty cottage without anything that could possibly remind him of your existence; it was a terrible thing to think of, and his head spins dizzily. He was going to tell you that his illness was gone and that he would be able to spend time with you again, but you had just disappeared— you were— you just— you just left him alone on an island of ultimates, people who he considered nothing more than classmates and friends when he cared, but you, his lover, the only person in the world to ever tell him that he was worth something and not insult him, was gone, and he couldn't live withou—

Komaeda passes out before he can say anything else, the stress of everything collapsing on him at once. The class rushes him to the hospital, and Mikan and Hinata check his vitals, trying their best to calm his heart somehow before he died of a heart attack. His body fights it, almost as if desperate to die and shatter and break. Komaeda's consciousness doesn't want to live or come back to life. Yet, the two succeed anyway, the boy jumping awake as he's defibrillated back to life.

Komaeda doesn't know why he woke up within a day. He would have rather just died now that you weren't on the island anymore. He starts crying immediately upon waking up, the tears making him choke, snot running down his nose and tears staining his cheeks with tracks and tracks of salt. He thinks he's going to die from how hard he's crying. His breath catches in his throat, the hiccuping killing his lungs. God. Is this how pathetic he was? Was he really nothing without you? Why did he push you away? He should've just let you destroy him next to you—

You suppose you don't suffer any less.

You sit in the coffee shop in the city, and you press the coffee to your lips, planning your next route to nowhere. You want to wander. Your backpack is packed and ready, and you're excited to leave something behind for once. Yet, the sense of dread that plagues your whole body at the thought of leaving your only pillar of support in the universe hurts you. You don't know how to let you. You don't know if you want to know if you even know how to let go.

You receive a letter from Naegi from the island. A letter that was several papers taped together. A letter that rolls on the ground as you open it in front of the man, and a letter that's longer than a senior thesis paper. You read the first two lines, and you recognize it as Hinata's writing. You refuse to touch it at first, waving Naegi off, but all it takes is a mention of Komaeda's name.

It's every single doctor's report for Komaeda's illness starting from the day you left the island.

"What's... wrong?" Naegi watches your resolve waver.

"Komaeda is bedridden and had a heart attack the morning I left the island," You read every single report, and you pause when you reach the end. He still hasn't been discharged.

"Do you have paper and an envelope?" You stare at the man.

Komaeda receives a letter passed on from Hinata detailing a single word, and Komaeda runs.

He takes a helicopter to the mainland, and his heart races in his chest the entire time. He has to find you. It doesn't matter if you'd slap him or break him or shatter him into pieces like he had done with you, he has to have you back in his hands. He knows where you want him to be, and he doesn't know what time it is or why his bones hurt, but he knows where you're waiting, and he'd hate to keep you waiting even longer than he's had you wait. He doesn't know why the two of you are stuck. He doesn't understand why everything hurts him in the way it does, but he does know that he misses you terribly.

He reaches where you want him, sitting down on the same bench when he had met you, and he pulls out the blades from his jacket, cutting two lines to make sure you wouldn't leave before he could apologize. The blood stains his jacket, but he could never be too safe. He grimaces.

You leave your bag with Naegi, stepping up the stairs into Monaca's old tower. You're surprised that there was still one left, and you sit at the top of the stairs, glancing down at the rest of Towa city. You wonder if Komaeda would know that you're referring to here instead of the bench. Maybe he'd realize it after a little while.

So, the sun sets, and you start back down the tower. The walls of it are torn, the brick showing through the wallpaper, and the mold and moss from the natural tragedies during the tragedy. You wonder if Komaeda would remember this place at all. You don't know how many years you spent in the tower with him, doing everything you could for Junko. It wasn't even despair, now that you think of it. You were just enamored with Komaeda. That desperate. Desperate to the point that you'd do anything for him. You wonder if your memories were erased. You don't know.

The place brings bad memories. Maybe it was time to leave.

The sound of running upstairs causes you to stop in your steps, and you stare down at Komaeda.

Komaeda stares up at you, stars in the background, the wind brushing your hair gently, and his legs give out. You rush to him immediately as he cries at the sight of you, and his lungs burn as he tries to catch his breath despite the tears. He clings onto your forearms, mindless babbles slipping past his lips as he cries and tries to explain himself. You catch little comprehensible words. Words like "help" "sorry" and "fault", and you wait until he calms down enough to speak to you, assuring him that you wouldn't leave.

Your heart twists and burns in your chest. You want to cry just as badly as he does.

Komaeda cries in your arms, hiccupping, clinging onto your arm pathetically. It looks familiar. It's like watching yourself break down before the fifth trial, except its Komaeda crying harsh tears over you leaving him. Maybe you came full circle. You don't know. All you know is that you should've never left the island and rotted in your place for a little longer. Maybe Komaeda wouldn't have had heart problems if you had never left. You don't know. You think you hurt him enough.

Komaeda calms eventually, wiping the snot and tears from his face, staring quietly at the tissue. He really was pathetic without you.

"I'm sorry." He manages. "I was going to—" He pauses, averting his gaze to the side. "I was going to... give you a ring when I got off the boat as a promise but I didn't want it to seem like I was proposing because then that would be like forcing you to marry me in front of the entire class—"

"You were going to what?" You stare at Komaeda in your arms, blinking, eyes wide.

"give you a ring?"

"You brought me a ring from the mainland?"

"Y-yeah?"

"How'd you even get one?" Your arms tighten around him, and you rest your chin on his head as you stare down at the stairs.

"Uh," Komaeda stumbles over himself. "I dug around my old mansion."

You laugh, pulling him close to your chest. "From your dead parents?"

"Mom's engagement ring," Komaeda smiles at the sound of your laughter.

"Do you think that's why we fought? The dead's vengeance?"

"Mother doesn't approve," Komaeda hums. "Mother knows best."

"Motherrrrr," You grin, "knows best." You pause, staring at the sunrise. "Would you say yes if I were to propose?"

"I can't live without you."

That's all you need to hear.

Some days you think too hard. Komaeda grows used to it, sitting down with you, the fireplace on, tea in your hands as he sits next to you. He doesn't know what to feel about living a casual, retired life. The two of you are back to a mundane life. The two of you swing back and forth, the sun counting your days. You wonder if Komaeda's going to propose or if he was just saying it to get you back with him.

Though, you suppose thoughts are fleeting.

You grow tired of waiting for Komaeda to propose. You stumble into Souda's cabin one afternoon, staring at him in the eye until he notices you. He yelps as he does, and you as him if he has a metal band. You wonder where you get the talent for being able to do everything as long as you have the audacity to. You bring a mirror into your old cabin, playing with polymer clay and making flowers, gluing them onto the mirror, sanding the ring and making sure you remember Komaeda's ring size as you fall asleep next to him each night.

Komaeda thinks you're up to something, but he stays put. Maybe you were going to surprise him.

The anxiety is much quieter these days, and he finds himself sitting in your shared cabin, waiting for you to come back. You go missing more often. Maybe you're running around the island exploring. You always liked wandering more than anything else. He wonders if you'd pass away on accident one day. Your ultimate talent was scary. Your real one. You could be taken away from him at any time.

"I have a surprise." You peek through the door, blinking at Komaeda rapidly.

"A good one or bad one?"

"Good one," You hum.

Komaeda follows you as you drag him to your cabin, and he pauses at the sight of roses.

"A... angel?"

"I made us a mirror." You fiddle with your fingers.

Komaeda pulls you with him as he steps into the place, and he stares at the heart-shaped mirror. The clay flowers around it cause him to pause, and he stares at the metal band that glistens, hiding in a piece of clay. Komaeda pauses at the sight of the other hole, and he pulls the ring from his pocket, slipping it into the slot, turning to grin at you.

"Ah, it seems-" He pauses at the sight of you on one knee.

"I had this whole speech prepared about how I had fallen in love with you the moment we met, but the second you put my ring in the slot my brain completely malfunctioned and I forgot half of it," You pull another ring from your pocket, and you hold it up for him. "I'm in love with you. Marry me?"

Komaeda blinks at the ring, and he stares at you, rummaging through his pocket.

Your heart rings in your head as he pulls out a ring of his own, holding it to your face.

"If you'll take mine."

You yank him onto the floor with you, wrapping your arms around his neck and laughing.

There are a lot of smiles and giggles with Komaeda while the two of you plan for a wedding. Komaeda lets you do what you want, offering his suggestion when you ask, finding that it's getting easier to read what you want and what you don't. In the meantime, while he does, you tell him how sweet he is to you, pressing kisses to his cheeks, letting him know you were sure about what you were doing. It was turbulent, you think. Komaeda seemed scared you would change your mind at first.

You remind him that you care about him quietly at night, tracing circles on his chest.

He watches you fall asleep at night, and he can't help the nasty thoughts that spiral in his mind as he bites back quiet moans as you're asleep next to him, bare skin kissed by the moon and water from the shower still fresh in your hair. He feels bad, whimpering and gasping as he plays with himself next to you, but surely you wouldn't mind, right? You never have; You've let him do whatever he wants. You've even mentioned letting him do whatever he wants to you while you're asleep, but he couldn't possibly soil your body with him.

You don't wake up. You've always slept deep, he finds. He could completely defile you head to toe and you wouldn't even notice as long as he cleaned you up. He parts your lips with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your lips before wiping himself down with a tissue, snuggling his head into your chest, falling asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.

Komaeda is less slick than he thinks he is.

You wake up earlier than him some days, staring at the stain on the sheets, stretching your arms, and reaching into his boxers. He tends to wake up with morning woods, his hormones still unbalanced despite his age. You don't know. You never studied the human body extensively. So, you do what you normally do, fingers freeing his cock from his boxers, spitting in your hand before running your hand through the slit to collect his precum and giving him a handjob. Some days, Komaeda wakes up with your mouth around his tongue, other days he wakes up to you reading a book while your hand is wrapped around his cock. Either way, he wakes up to himself moaning pathetically while you suck him off. He caught you kicking your legs once. He doesn't understand why you enjoy pleasing him, but he doesn't find it in himself to complain.

"I want snowdrops at the wedding," You pause. "On the dress, not the wedding. I'm not planting more flowers on the island when we already have a farm."

"It wouldn't hurt to get flowers planted."

"We're having a beachside wedding because you insisted it be one to match my fantasies," You glance at the flower catalog Naegi sent you. "Maybe I'll get a blue iris bouquet."

"Anything you want," Komaeda hums, staring at a suit catalog. "Can I just wear white?"

"Yeah." You pause. "I'm kicking you out when I pick the dress, by the way."

"And let Hinata take your nude measurements alone?"

"Sonia and Peko are going to be there," You grumble. "They've had it done before."

Komaeda pouts.

"You'll get to see it at the wedding. Isn't that enough?"

"Can I paint something for the wedding?"

"We have to plan gifts for each other, do we not?" You hum. "Like... I don't actually know what I'm going to get you."

"It's fine," Komaeda closes his eyes, the vibrations from his humming warming your skin. "I'll just spoil you rotten."

"What if I get used to it?"

"Then that would be the greatest blessing possible." Komaeda smiles.

Some days, you wonder how you ended up with Komaeda. You had been blinking slowly in and out of consciousness over a world that wasn't yours when you landed out of nowhere on top of Komaeda, and now you were planning a wedding with him. Other days, you wonder how you asked a complete stranger in English to live at his place temporarily, and now you were his home. You, a human, are his home. You gasp and twitch as he curls his fingers in you, cutting off your thought process.

"What were you thinking of?" Komaeda stares up at you from between your legs.

"A-ah," You whimper as he goes back to fingering you. "You-" You exhale. "I was thinking of you."

"Me?"

"Y-yeah," You hide your face in your hands as he presses a kiss to your clit. "H-how we met."

"You were an angel who fell out of heaven, I was convinced," The rest of Komaeda's words are muffled as he goes back to eating you out, eyes half-lidded as he focuses on you feverishly. You don't know where he gets the energy to stay between your legs when he can barely survive a round with you. The sounds of his tongue in you fill the room as you flush from how lewd it all sounds. You're embarrassed again.

"K-Ko," You whimper.

Komaeda raises a brow to stare at you, drawing hearts on your thigh as he goes back to eating you out when he notices it's just embarrassment. The coil in your stomach tightens as your hand threads through his hair, your thighs closing around his head as your orgasm approaches. You squirm before you do, and you let out a salacious moan as you cum on Komaeda's tongue for the nth time that night. You squirm from the overstimulation as the orgasm fades, and Komaeda wipes the cum from his face, licking off of his hand as he spreads your legs.

He pumps himself twice before pressing the tip of his cock to your clit.

"What's wrong?"

"S-sorry," Komaeda mumbles, kneading the skin on your hip. "T-thinking."

"About?"

"How far, ah," He whimpers as he fills you, resting his forehead on yours. "we've come." He blinks slowly as you push his hair back, leaning up to kiss him. "And how you're," He starts thrusting, slowly, almost as if he were cherishing you slowly, "underneath me, bare skin, and all." Komaeda thrusts steadily as you murmur for him to speed up, cheeks warm and skin flushed. Komaeda thinks you're pretty like this. He always thinks you're pretty, but you're just breathtaking under the moon, the white haze making you look holy. You were his angel. The angel that dropped into his life as he felt his life shatter in his hands that same day.

Komaeda's brows furrow as he feels himself get close, thrusting growing desperate, thumb on your clit, rubbing desperately. The coil in your stomach tightens, and your eyes widen, reaching for Komaeda's neck, squealing about how you're in love with him and how you're desperate to marry him and settle down, your overstimulation making your head spin, the words not registering as you cum on his cock. Komaeda's head rings from the praise you give him, a waterfall of pet names spilling. "Y-you're so pretty," You gasp. "Gorgeous. I think you were blessed by Aphrodite or something. Pretty. Pretty, pretty boy." You whine as he chases his own orgasm, your nails digging into his shoulders. "i love you so much. So much. K-ko, I'm so p-painfully in love with you-" You gasp as he cums, spilling into you with something between a whimper and moan.

He stays inside of you for a moment, waiting to catch his breath as you wipe the sweat from his forehead.

"Good boy," You smile, running your hand through his hair. "Such a pretty, good boy."

Komaeda laughs airily, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. "I love you too."

You turn your head to stare, and you pause. "We left the window open."

"Pray that Souda doesn't scream at us tomorrow," Komaeda pulls out of you, his cum trickling out of you, causing Komaeda's voice to catch in his throat. "You're pretty."

"You tell me that a lot," You sit up, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"I mean it," Komaeda relaxes at your touch, tension leaving his shoulders. "I mean it."

"I know you do," You get off the bed, grimacing at the sweat on your skin. Komaeda lies on the bed as you walk into the bathroom, coming out with a rag to wipe him down. Komaeda lifts his arms weakly as you wipe him, exhaling when you finish, pulling you for a kiss.

"Can I sleep first?"

"Of course," You press a kiss to his forehead. "Always."

The moon spills past the windows as you stare at Komaeda's chest rise and fall, skin paler than normal. You rest your hand on his hip, tracing circles on his skin, lashes fluttering as sleep threatens to take you. It's quiet, you think. A nice quiet. the type of quiet that you could grow used to, and a type of quiet you had wished for before getting isekaied. You don't want to leave him. You hope he reincarnates with you when the two of you die.

Komaeda blinks slowly in the morning, body sore. Though, his arms aren't as sore as they used to be. He blinks slowly, turning around to face you. He stares up at you, lashes fluttering, lips parting as he presses a kiss to yours. You're pretty. When the sun illuminates the room and the waves recede, you're gorgeous. The golden streaks of the sun reflect on your hair, and each individual cell of your body. Komaeda doesn't know what he could consider prettier.

"Mm?" You furrow your brows, Komaeda sitting up to cover the sun from your eyes. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Komaeda smiles.

"You're so hot," You yawn. "I'm so happy I'm marrying you."

Komaeda's cheeks redden, his heart racing. "love you too..."

The clocks on the walls pass quicker as the two of you get ready for the ceremony itself. Komaeda doesn't know what to feel. He's going to get to call you his wife. His spouse. He's going to be married soon. If he told himself back at Hope's Peak, he doubts he would believe himself. He's marrying you.

You sit up and rub your eyes, exhaling slowly. You stare outside the window, tossing the covers over your head again.

"I'm going back to bed."

Komaeda blinks slowly, snuggling closer to you. He doesn't want to get up either. He closes his eyes, only pausing when he remembers something important.

"You have to pick the dress today." He mumbles into your ear.

"Nevermind!" You jump out of bed, stretching your arms. Komaeda smiles as you yawn. "Do you want to see me in anything?"

"Do whatever you want," Komaeda smiles.

"I'm going to wear your servant chain to the wedding if you tell me to do whatever I want," You deadpan.

Komaeda chokes, coughing uncomfortably.

"Or the bedroom," You rub your eyes. "I think it'd be cuter in the bedroom."

"You kept my clothes?"

You blink at him owlishly. "I kept everything you ever had."

Komaeda doesn't know what he's supposed to feel when you actually pull out the chain that was originally around his neck. Komaeda returns home, supporting himself on the wall, pulling his shoes off, pausing at the sight of you in his sweater and chain.

"I swear this isn't-"

"Stay in it." Komaeda tosses his jacket to the side, stepping up to you, pressing his lips on your temple, smothering you in kisses. "Can I fuck you in that?"

"Yeah," You scrunch your nose as he kisses further down your neck, biting, tracing circles on the teeth marks, staring quietly. "God, you're so pretty."

You flush from his words, and he pulls the bottom of his shirt up, revealing your boobs. He pries your lips open, having you bite on the hem as he thumbs the bud of your tits, pinching it to get a reaction out of you. Your skin jumps as his lips close around the other bud, swirling his tongue around it. Your leg wobbles, and Komaeda has you sit, the tips of his hair tickling your chin as he continues his ministrations. Your fingers dig into the sheets, soft pants slipping past your lips as Komaeda takes your quiet moans as a sign of encouragement.

He pulls away, a string of saliva following him, and he blinks slowly at how your legs have bucked. You stare at him as he pulls away from your chest, deer caught in headlights, heart ringing in your ears. You don't know when he got so perceptive. The hem of the shirt is still between your teeth, and Komaeda pulls the cloth from you.

"Pretty angel, doing such a great job," He kisses you as a reward, lowering his head, pressing a hand to your thigh as he scrunches the shirt up to reveal your pussy. He pushes your legs open wider, pulling you closer to him, getting onto his stomach, pressing a light kiss to your clit before mumbling quietly. "itadakimasu," He delves in, sticking his tongue in first, making sure to savor your taste. Your thighs quiver, and he holds them apart as he continues, stopping you from suffocating him. You throw your head back, muffling the sounds from your mouth with your palm.

"Angell," Komaeda slurs, replacing his tongue with a finger. "please let me hear you..."

You move your hand slowly as Komaeda sits, hand reaching for the chain, pulling on it, forcing you to lurch forward, the collar cutting your breath off. You gasp as he does, whimpering as you feel Komaeda curl his finger in you, looking for the place you liked it best. You gasp, propping yourself onto your elbows to try and breathe. Your breath hitches as he slides a second finger in, your arms shaking.

"K-Ko," You gasp as he pulls on the chain again.

"Yes, angel?"

"I wanna cum," The coil in your stomach tightens as you tighten around Komaeda's fingers. Komaeda obliges, letting the chain go from his hand, pressing his thumb to your clit, drawing rapid circles. You cum with a cry, drenching his fingers, your legs shaking. You whimper as he pulls his fingers out and licks them. Your eyelids flutter, chest heaving for air.

"Can," Komaeda swallows slowly. "can you ride me?"

You nod slowly, waiting for Komaeda to strip and lie down. He makes a show for you, unbuttoning his shirt painfully slow, pulling his belt off, body weight resting on one side of his body, hips jutted out. You swallow the saliva threatening to spill from your lips. You climb over him, letting the cum from your orgasm lube him, positioning him slowly. You watch as Komaeda wraps his hand around the chain again, pulling lightly as he bottoms out in you. You pant, whimpering, the remnants of your orgasm making your walls still sensitive.

"So pretty for me," Komaeda pulls on the chain lightly. His shirt scratches and causes your body to itch, the fabric painfully uncomfortable. You remember why you didn't like it anymore. Well, as you start bouncing on his cock slowly, one hand on the chain and the other tangled in the sheets. You stare down at him as he pulls the collar, forcing your chest to his face, and you whimper as his lips latch onto your nipple, sucking ever so gently. You force your body weight onto your elbows, your bouncing turning erratic.

Komaeda helps you, thrusts matching your rhythm. You whimper as his other hand rests on your hip, drawing lazy circles as you feel your orgasm approach again. You gasp softly, biting your bottom lip harshly as you feel your orgasm approach again. Komaeda forces your chest to his face, letting go of the chain and moving his other hand to your ass. You cum on him with a cry as he bites on your nipple, the hickey bright red on your chest tightening on him like a vice. Your chest heaves as he chases his own orgasm, your legs shaking from overstimulation. You whine as he spills into you. Komaeda babbles incoherently as you collapse on top of him, pulling the shirt from over your head. The collar and chain remain around your neck, and Komaeda pulls you down to press a kiss to your cheek.

"You're so, so beautiful," Komaeda mumbles on your lips, pressing lazy kisses to your skin.

"I love you too."

Komaeda's anxiety charts as the wedding gets closer and closer. He finds himself staring at sharp objects for far too long and foods that he knows would be bad for him even longer. There's a certain sense of anxiety as he stares a little too long at dangerous items nearby, and you find yourself tracing circles on his skin and reminding him that it was fine. You didn't mind his luck cycle. Even if it rained on the big day, you could just run down the aisle with an umbrella.

You sit in your cabin, smiling as Hiyoko arranges your hair with a huff, complaining about how you had such nice hair but never took care of it. You laugh as she weaves flowers into your hair, and Sonia has you hold still as she does your makeup. Mahiru moves between cabins, snapping photos of both you and Komaeda. Ibuki arranges the music as Peko invites the few future foundation members to their seats. You don't know how you got here, really. Your heart causes your breathing to get anxious, and you grimace slowly.

"Hey," Sonia pauses, having you stare at her. "It'll be fine. No anxious thoughts. It's your wedding day."

You exhale as she has you breathe, and your shoulders relax.

"It looks like it's going to rain," Mikan mumbles. "Did we bring an umbrella?"

"I did!" Akane closes the umbrella, stepping into the room. "Wah, how pretty!"

"Thank you, Akane," You smile.

Komaeda's words serve true, rain pouring down on the day of the wedding, and you laugh as the tail of your dress stains with rainwater. You'll think of it as a fond memory. You know you will. It'll be fun to explain to people who ask why your dress is stained brown and say that you got married in the rain to the love of your life. It's a sense of acceptance. You blink at Komaeda as you get ready to walk down the aisle, and you decide to run. You're excited. Komaeda's dressed head to toe in white, and he looks ethereal. You'd love him forever, you decide. You ditch the umbrella, only stopping as you bump under his. It was big enough to fit the two of you.

"Would you like to swap shoes? Running in heels in the rain is a little..." Komaeda raises a leg to slip his shoe off before you stop him.

"I want to run in the rain, in heels, with the love of my life," You laugh, resting your hand on his bicep, leaning your head onto his shoulder.

Impostor gives the opening speech, and you grin happily as you open the letter you had written, holding a newly brought, clear umbrella.

"To Nagito Komaeda," You clear your throat carefully. "I landed in your lap in the blink of an eye, crashing into you on the street from above. It was comedic, it was strange, and it was new. I had never gotten hit by a white truck before, and I was nowhere expecting to end up in this world of all places. You're a fan favorite in my world, and the fact that I'm being blessed with an opportunity to marry you like this is incredible. It feels strange. It felt like just yesterday when I was asking you in a foreign language whether or not I could stay with you until I found a home, and now today we're getting married. I know you like to say that it's a blessing to marry me, but I think the real blessing was falling in love with you."

You pause to breathe, glancing at Komaeda, wiping his tears already.

"I was horrified when I saw the letter detailing your frontaltemporal lobe dementia. I was determined to find some way to fix it, whether it be through someone as obscure as the ultimate neurologist whom I had only heard of once or twice. I was blissfully in love with you as I had always been. I do not remember a moment when I haven't loved you to the moon and back." You swallow, tears welling in your eyes. "Even when you were nothing more than a mere servant under Monaca, I was desperate to do anything for you. I had forgotten that the tragedy was something that you would have despised had you found out I was an ultimate despair, but I was so desperate to love you and to show you how far my love went that I went insane."

Komaeda thanks Hinata as he takes the handkerchief, crying silently into it.

"But I knew that we would love each other. I knew that you and I would love like no other, and that the sun would die and the moon would break, but there would never be a moment where I wouldn't stop loving you because I couldn't stop loving you. You were as vital to my existence as any basic commodity was. I could wither and die like the flowers you picked for me at Hope's Peak and I would still love you desperately." You pause, collecting yourself. "Because you were just that important to me. You were something that I desperately, insanely wanted. You meant the world to me, and I was willing to let everyone else burn just so I could see you live."

You cough, trying to hold back tears. "And when we had fought, I was so desperate to leave because the only thing I knew how to do was to run away. Yet, I don't know why I stayed in that tower all night until the sun was peeking from the east. I don't know why I had held onto you so desperately as you had cried in my arms, but I'm so terribly elated that I had stayed, because I wouldn't be here if I had just ran away like I always did. I wouldn't have been in our room, staring at the ceilings and counting the stars in your eyes, watching you breathe peacefully, because I would have never been able to experience anything if I didn't stay with you. I read once that love was a choice," You exhale. "So my choice, in the simplest terms," You wipe a tear from your eye. "Is to stay by your side, for better or worse, for life or for death, and until the universe would forcibly tear my heart and soul and mind away from you, I will stay with you until all that is left of me is nothing, for I know that I would love you for all of my days, even if it decides to kill me. Because even if I'm the ultimate isekai victim in my next, life, you'll always be my husband, lover, and my home in a world that despises me so much."

Komaeda wipes his tears, eyes puffy, brows furrowed, slightly embarrassed at how much of a mess he probably looked. He coughs, waiting for his tears to calm before staring at his letter. He sniffs a little, opening the letter carefully, almost as if he were scared to break the wax. He adjusts the umbrella in his hand, and he opens the letter carefully. There are words written on the front and back.

"To my angel," Komaeda reads, adjusting his umbrella. "When you had first told me to write you a letter, I thought you were saying just to write down whatever thoughts I had."

You thank Sonia as she hands you a handkerchief.

"When I first met you, I thought I was insane." Komaeda laughs to himself. "I was just thrown out of the trash, a couple million dollars on a lottery ticket. I had the ticket in my pocket, and I remembered how each year, each terrible year, I had prayed at the shrines during visits that somehow, somewhere, there would be someone who would make living worth all the suffering I had to go through. I was so desperate to be in love and to have someone who cared about me to the point of destruction like my parents were with each other. I was dying for someone to love me, and as if the universe had heard my prayer that built up over the years, you appeared. You fell from the sky, and for that short moment in my life, I was starstruck at the sight of you." Komaeda sniffs. "I was painfully in love with you. You, who had spoken barely any Japanese upon meeting me, and you who had tried drawing a white truck killing you, I was in love with you. You were so charming in my eyes. I didn't think of a day where I would have to live without you."

Komaeda wipes his tears again, coughing quietly. "I had fallen in love with you so naturally that by the time I was a remnant of despair like you had predicted, I thought that the only way to cause despair was through the death of you, but my consciousness couldn't allow it. I was frail, broken, shattered, so I thought the best sort of despair would have been to work you to the bone and have you fall out of love with me. I failed. I'm glad I failed." Komaeda sniffs, glancing at you in tears, crying into the handkerchief, hiccuping.

"And during that killing game, I died with you." Komaeda laughs airily. "I thought you would surely leave me and try to survive. I had given you a gas mask, yet you stabbed yourself to make sure that my plan would go along, and the two of us were gone. Dead. You were in a coma because I had forced you into one before leaving for the island, and I was in a coma because I had prayed and prayed for a world where everything was together and in one piece. I wanted a world where the two of us could live without the tragedy. A world where we were all classmates, and Chiaki was still alive. To me, it was a world where the two of us were in love and my luck wasn't killing anyone. I woke up and cried. I had to be in a world with you in it, so I thought it'd be chance that my luck would save you. I'm glad it did."

Komaeda turns the paper.

"I love you to the moon and back, and I love you until the sun burns out and the moon dies from heartbreak. My life is supposed to be a mosaic of everyone I've loved, but instead, it's just a painting of you. From start to finish, from the moment we met to the moment we'll die, everything will be influenced by you and you alone. I'll fly you to the moon and burn from the sun just so that you could live without worry. And when I wake up in the morning, I'll hide you from the sun's rays burning your eyes and kiss you until you grow tired of me. I'll do anything and everything so that you'll know how much I love you, because I finally, finally, found the person that I wake up each morning, smiling all silly at because of how much I love you." Komaeda exhales shakily. "So this is my vow to love you until the world shatters and my soul can't reincarnate with you anymore. Know that no matter how much the world will kill me, I'll never leave or break you. I love you, my angel, my world, my heart, and my home."

You wipe your tears quietly, and Souda hands the two of you the rings. Komaeda slips it onto your ring finger, pausing to stare at it. You hold his ring, pausing when you notice the tears pricking the corner of his eyes. You reach to wipe the tears, wiping his tears with your handkerchief as he sniffs quietly. He mumbles a quiet apology, lifting his hand so that you can put his ring on. He wipes his tears as you wait for his vision to clear a little so that he could look at you.

You slip the ring on, a stupid smile on your face, the smile of a lovesick fool.

Impostor starts again. The moment you think you've been waiting for your entire life. Your heart rings in your head, and you can almost hear Komaeda's heart beating in his chest.

"You may now kiss the—"

You feel bad for interrupting Impostor, but as you press your lips to Komaeda, throwing your arms around him in glee, the umbrella falling to the side as Komaeda's caught off guard, you decide it's fine. Though, Komaeda doesn't complain as the familiar feeling of your lips on his causes him to relax into your arms, hands wrapping around your waist instinctively. His lashes flutter as he tilts his neck to get more comfortable, and the rain soaks his hair. He might catch a cold from this, but he supposes he would only get married once. It didn't matter how his luck cycle would affect him.

The rain ceases over your head, and you pout when you pull away. "I wanted to run in the rain with you."

"It'll rain later," Komaeda hums. "We can run when it's later at night. Just the two of us"

You blink slowly, staring at Komaeda as you pause.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

to chase a dream | zhang hao ˚₊‧⁺˖

all your life, you and zhang hao have been chasing each other. you wonder here, if this is where your symphony ends.

TAGS: musician!au, gn!reader, rivals to lovers, angst with happy ending, suggestive!makeout

A/N: something about zhang hao called for dramatics so here i am (≧∇≦)ﾉ ! self-indulgent as usual :)

WORDS: ~1450, EXTRA: music info and terms here !!

"That was wonderful playing earlier."

History doesn't even begin to describe what you have between you two.

Your friends could joke that there would be enough to write an opera. Star crossed and all. All about the virtuosos of violin and piano. Of Zhang Hao and you.

You want to hark it back to those fitful days in grade school. Full days of comparing sheet music, trying to one-up each other about the difficulty. Hao, and his too big violin case and you, trouncing him every talent show because his hands hadn't quite yet grown out of their stubbiness. The satisfaction in remembering those big whiny tears brings warmth to your soul.

Then, there came high school.

Oh, you loathe it; he doesn't. Not when his hands became a study in lines and grace. Envy would eat you alive if you had any less pride. But you weren't so above yourself to not look at him. Hard to not notice when he grows a head taller and of course, starts topping the local competitions only to shove it under your face.

Your parents loved it. Gave a reason to push you further and deeper into competitions and over the top galas. To push your fire against someone who was all finely diced ice. There was nothing you liked less when you wanted to live for the glory of the crowd, not medals and flowers.

Eyes followed you everywhere when he was in the picture. And yours always found his.

"Here to mock me?" you ask.

The laugh you draw is enchanting. "Never." And it's so sincere you might just believe it. "Just here to say my farewells."

The Winter Gala spins behind both of you: through a door, down some ornate stairs and into a pit of some thoroughly drunk musicians. From the balcony, only the trickles of laughter and music eke out the door. But you would hardly focus on that, not when Hao stands very plainly in front of you.

"Already? it's only an hour into reception." You twirl the champagne in your hand with consideration before you gesture him to come to where you lean on the balcony rail. "Thought you would stay to kiss ass with some of the others."

"Not this time. No, I mean..." The howl of the wind carries his unease. Traffic horns and gala laughter do nothing to smother whatever he tries to hide in his tone. You know him too well.

There's more than history between you two.

But whatever he says next has you rethinking everything. "I'm leaving, leaving. I won't be back in the country for a while so, here I am."

There's a moment where you think he's entirely pulling your leg. Pulling you along to another little joke at your expense. But you've known him your entire life at this point, and you’ve been through too much to realize that he’s not joking.

“… Am I the first to know?”

You count the beats and steady your breath. Years of this, all for what?

“Only Minghao-Ge and Junhui-Ge, and now you. But knowing them, they’ll be drunk enough tonight to let it slip,” he explains in this awfully fond tone. “Mark Lee from the LSO watched me perform at the showcase in July and scouted for me. I think he got on Junhui-Ge’s nerves with how much he emailed him.”

Medals and flowers. Smiles and bows. The curtain draws, where are you now?

"Congrats," you say after a second – watching nothing but your past fly by you. Despite the ache, you raise your glass. "Cheers," you smile and take a sip. Raising it into the moonlight and offering the glass to Hao for his own toast but he just shakes his head.

You pout. "Don’t like it?”

Instead, he takes the glass from you and settles it onto the edge. Pink dusts his cheeks as watches you from the corner of your eye. “Want to remember this.”

Heat flares to your cheeks at the weight of Hao’s words. A night to remember is one way to put it.

"So, when are you off to London?"

"This Monday."

You blink. "... That's fast."

"Why? You think you'll miss me?" and it's said with that smile of his. Infuriating and secret, so many layers of discourse that haunt you – it’s a memory that you'll take to the grave.

"Of course, it's you," you mutter, disgustingly honest with yourself. "It'll just be... quiet, without your excuse of music causing a riot." Honestly, you can barely hear Hao's chuckle when you're too stuck in your head to mind the charm in it.

You want to edge back into your comfort zone of easy quips, nothing serious but scathing wit. But nothing you say lights the fight that used to start so easy back when you two were younger. When your worries were small like the cars below.

A full look at his face is all you want to chance a glance for. What would you see? Remorse? Eagerness? Disappointment? You could read him like a book with a single glance, what’s stopping you now?

"What about you? are you going to stay in Singapore? I thought you'd be the one to chase excitement."

"I’ll chase whatever my parents dangle in front of me.” And the laugh he breathes is empty because you both know it’s bitter but true. Hao’s stood aside long enough to understand. So, when he sidles closer next to you it warms you more than they ever did. "Yixing-Ge told me he's also planning to leave for Boston, promised me that I'll get his seat when it happens."

"If it happens,” he teases.

"It’ll happen."

You nearly jump when you feel it. Hao’s warm hand on top of yours. It’s spindly and calloused, worn out in the way a weathered musician’s should be. It’s all you need to guide you back to where you are.

"I know you'll make it. Just make sure it's something you want.” Hao’s breath is right next to your ear. Clear as day and easy as a song. It’s so simple to say: take what you want.  

Blood in your ears, chest heaving, nothing to catch you when you fall but the discordant crash of keys.

It sounds like a melody.

"It's never going to be something I want."

"Then, what do you want?"

You.

Instead, you turn to face Zhang Hao. A challenge of a smile on your lips because you know where this ends.

To face the music, the crowd, the eyes that watch.

"What's it like? to chase a dream?" you ask.

Brutal, visceral, freeing. An infinite number of interpretations for one word.

The stage becomes your world, and the spotlight burns you alive. Pressure flays your skin even as your fingers glide across smooth keys and you hush your heaving breath. Running to your last page, heart in your hands, smearing red across white. There's no audience when you dream; you are your own critic, you are your own end, but your destiny is not you.

To chase a dream is to become raw.

"Like chasing you."

You hum low and satisfied. Carding a hand through Hao’s hair, you guide him down.

Kissing Zhang Hao feels like being on stage all over again. Being set on fire, skin flaying, blood rushing. It’s everything he isn’t, but everything you are.

You swallow his groan, biting across his lips as your hands trail down him. Everywhere you've wanted to touch feels unbearable. You want to chase this feeling: Hao's hands on your hips and cradling your jaw. Trailing his red ears and holding around his throat; it's little fires everywhere.

Distance doesn’t exist as you push into each other. Hao has you against the rail, hands cradling you like you’re his own instrument. Playing you to pluck you into satisfaction.

Years of us, made for this final movement.

This ache and greed that makes musicians like you two come alive. You know Hao as your years of black and white keys that haunt your dreams and make your reality. There isn’t a crevice in his mind you haven’t touched or a melody that he’s played where he never thought of you.

You hold Hao by the chin, determination set into your eyes and a chord of steel in your tone. "There better be a future for us – I’m not having you leave me here in your past.”

"Anything," he breathes against you. More than history. More than a future. Chasing your dream. "Anything for you."

thanks so much for reading !! this was a tough one but i'm glad i wrote it ! if you enjoyed please like or reblog :D ⭒ masterlist

inumaki toge: don't try to be a genius

blurb inumaki made it a mission to figure out why you’re acting so strange around him. he considered everything except a crush. (a 3+1 fic)

# fluff, based off twice song, friends to lovers, wc 2k

the first time starts with accidental hand holding.

in all honesty, maybe you should’ve figured you would slip sooner than later. a harmless crush—now harmful given the situation with your peers, mostly named gojo satoru and panda—is impossible to hide when the first thing on your mind isn’t romance, but bloody murder.

it was a day that was not dissimilar to a vacation. 

unfortunately, students like you aren’t quite the type to be given day-offs like 20% off coupons in sunday newspapers. so when gojo-sensei said “be free, my flock! make your mama bird proud!!” like the fucking weirdo he is, all of you should’ve known that curses would be crawling everywhere in your given ‘vacation’ destination.

“if you drop one bag, i’ll kill you,” says nobara. “and don’t you dare drop maki-senpai’s bag or i’ll kill you again!”

maki shrugs at your confused look, though she looks amused. she always allows nobara to suck up to her, but everyone else is as good as gone if they try.

yuuji, local maid of the first years and now the second years, sighs. “yes, ma’am, i understand.”

you walk in a leisurely pace beside nobara and inumaki. it’s both heaven and hell, and not in the way anyone would think. hell, because the love of your life is literally right beside you and looks so content you want to pinch him. heaven, because your best friend is right there to calm you down.

panda and yuuji launch into an insightful debate about which restaurant should you all go to for dinner, and everyone else joins in the conversation, save for you and inumaki, who are happy to listen to them.

“what do you think, y/n?” yuuji asks.

“hmm,” you pretend to be deep in thought, “fushiguro-kun has good taste so i vote whatever he votes.”

megumi flushes red. inumaki makes a noise to say that he agrees with you.

they continue with their debate. you’re happy to eat wherever as long as you stay with your friends.

your hand brushes against something warm and soft; on instinct, you want to curl into it like a cat, but when you look down and realize who those hands belong to, you panic.

—oh my god that’s inumaki-senpai’s hand—

with a flinch that’s strong enough to make nobara jostle from beside you, you dart away from inumaki.

nobara splutters, ready to have your head chopped off for disturbing personal space, but abruptly stops at the sight of your round-eyed stare directed at your own hands. it takes one glance at the object of your affection to realize what’s going on.

inumaki blinks, startled and confused. “mustard leaf?” he asks you, looking around for any sign of danger.

unless you all happen to walk past a mirror shop, you doubt he’d find anything life-threatening.

“what? what happened?” yuuji looks extremely alarmed at the sight of your distressed face. “y/n…?”

“nothing!” you’re quick to exclaim before everyone else asks. “sorry, just, uhhh—” panicked because i almost held inumaki’s hand like it was second nature.

you rush to yuuji’s side and distract him with a half-baked excuse, away from an amused nobara and a confused inumaki. if anyone notices you pointedly steering clear from inumaki, they don’t say anything.

you sit next to yuuji and fushiguro, despite inumaki leaving space for you.

it goes mostly normal for the rest of the night.

meanwhile, inumaki looks deeply perplexed at everyone acting like there’s an inside joke he’s not getting.

“inumaki? what’s up?”

maki quirks an eyebrow when inumaki slips a paper for her and panda to see. they read the words slowly, understanding dawning on their faces.

did i do something to upset y/n?, the note reads.

panda looks like he’s about to shit himself with how happy he looks. not an appropriate response, inumaki thinks, a little upset. “no, you didn’t do anything to upset y/n!” he says gleefully, which is like, totally suspicious.

“you’re so dumb,” maki rolls her eyes, flicking the paper back to him. it lands on his head, and she pats it. “you’ll figure it out soon.”

inumaki wants to figure it out now. he doesn’t like that you’re avoiding him, and he makes it clear with a mildly aggressive: “bonito flakes.”

maki and panda only laugh.

he makes it a mission to figure it out, much to your chagrin.

the second time starts, unfortunately, with gojo-sensei. and this time. inumaki is acutely aware, unfortunately.

“my lovebirds!” gojo chirps with a happy clap. you grimace and inumaki makes a confused noise. “my wonder duo! are you both up for some high-ranking missions, hm?”

“sensei, inumaki-senpai just got off from one,” you tell him.

inumaki shakes his head at you. “bonito flakes.”

gojo hums with amusement. “hmm? you want to do it?” and at your deadpan glare, gojo grins, because he’s a maniac who knows about your silly high school crush. “he wants to do it! if y/n-chan only wants his say in it, then we’re good to go.”

gojo may act like a fool—and he is, honestly—but he’s right about one thing, and it’s how you and inumaki fall into unspoken ease with teamwork, one that’s strangely limited to the both of you.

halves of the same whole, nanami once said. you didn’t have the heart to tell him it’s because you are in love with your supposed other half.

you assure gojo that it’s only because inumaki is strong enough to protect both him and his teammate, and gojo calls bullshit and says no matter what your technique is, you and inumaki make a formidable pair despite the year difference.

the thought of that makes you a little happy. and gojo takes advantage of that by sending you both off to missions more than anyone else.

but you don’t mind, not really. not when you get to spend time with inumaki, who’s so easy to be around with.

inumaki seems pleased that the Vacation-Day-Incident is long forgotten and you two fall back into a friendly routine.

“inumaki-senpai, here.” you toss him a small bottle of cough syrup you like to carry around in case of emergencies.

he looks surprised at the sight of it. “tuna mayo?”

“ah, yeah,” you chuckle sheepishly. “i notice you run out sometimes when it gets too rough so i always have extras with me.”

inumaki has a funny expression on his face, and it’s one he makes when he’s frustrated he can’t say what he wants to.

you clear your throat. “you don’t have to thank me, it’s no trouble—oh, what are you—”

inumaki shuts you up by taking your hand and gently kissing your knuckles.

you make a noise that’s somewhere between a yelp and a strangled squeal, which he seems to find amusing.

you know he did that to show gratitude when he can’t express it verbally, but did he have to do it like That…?

you feel your face heat up and you pull away from him like you’ve been burnt, missing the displeased frown on his face. “um! gojo-sensei is probably waiting for us.”

inumaki’s gaze is intense. “mustard leaf?”

inumaki feels like you’re pushing him away again. maybe you’re uncomfortable around him? that seems most likely. no one else had flinched from his presence that way before.

inumaki feels a bit sad, now. he’s not sulking—maybe—but gojo pats him on the back and wishes him luck and to push through with his mission. (inumaki never told anyone about it, but it’s gojo-sensei and he knows everything so he accepts it with a nod of gratitude.)

all in all, it was a very unfortunate end to the day.

the third time it happens, you’re stuck in a forest with him.

it’s a mission involving all of the first years along with inumaki (he found you guys on his way back) this time, and still, you end up alone with inumaki. it’s like the universe is conspiring against you or something.

or maybe it’s nobara not-so-subtly pushing you to inumaki’s direction every five minutes.

you don’t mind.

“yuuji-kun sure attracts trouble like a magnet, hm?” you muse, jumping over a root tall enough to reach your thigh.

inumaki smiles. “salmon.”

“i can’t help but worry, though,” you sigh. inumaki nudges you with an elbow until you look at his silent expression. “yeah, yeah, yuuji-kun is strong. and nobara and fushiguro-kun are strong enough to protect him, but it’s so—bleurgh.”

inumaki seems to accept your explanation. “tuna.”

you check the weather. “d’you think we should hurry up—”

“explode!”

that was not your voice.

alarmed, you turn your gaze back straight ahead. you almost trip over your own feet at the sight of a deformed caterpillar-like sludge creature that crawls out from the trees, similar to the one inumaki just killed.

the curse claws at your face.

you recoil from its grasp. “oh, gross!” you pierce your sword through it and watch it fizzle out of existence, flailing limply in your blade. you twist it around just to make sure. “that was gross,” you repeat.

“mustard leaf?” without warning, inumaki takes hold of your chin—NNHHHGG????!—for his eyes to roam around your face to check for any scratches.

you love that he’s getting comfortable with you, you really do. best friends forever, or something like that. but that doesn’t mean you don’t get to freak out about it when you quite literally feel his breath on your face.

you sputter some excuse and hurry away from him, heart pounding.

inumaki goes still, eyes stuck on the spot you were standing on before you ran away.

the frantic looks directed to anywhere but him, the embarrassed noises, the stammering—

maybe you’re already in a relationship?

he’s not sure what to feel about this mission anymore.

inumaki toge is standing outside your room.

yuuji spots him as he’s on his way back to his, and waves. “inumaki-senpai? what are you doing here?”

inumaki waves back and points at your door. “tuna tuna.”

“oooh, we’re at that part, alright,” says yuuji like that it isn’t the most cryptic dialogue one has ever heard. “do you want me to check if y/n’s there?”

“katsuobushi.”

“okay, okay! don’t look at me like that.” yuuji laughs. “i’ll leave ya to it. good luck, senpai!”

“mustard leaf…”

inumaki shakes his head and knocks on your door.

there’s a confused snort from the other side. you probably just woke up, inumaki thinks to himself with a small smile, and it doesn’t fade when you open the door, disheveled.

your eyes widen. “i-inumaki-senpai?” you blurt out louder than intended. both of you can hear a poorly stifled cackle from nobara’s room.

inumaki holds out his phone, letting you read out the words pre-written on the screen: i came here to apologize.

“what? wait, wait— what? what happened?”

inumaki types on his phone for a few seconds. i made you uncomfortable the past few days. i didn’t mean to do that.

you stare at him, blinking slowly. “made me… uncomfortable… what…?” then— “oh. oh! oh no, no, no. no, ahh this is so embarrassing.”

“mustard leaf…?” inumaki instinctively reaches out to you, but then stops himself when he remembers what he’s here for in the first place.

“inumaki,” you laugh in disbelief, “why are you apologizing as if it’s your fault i have a crush on you?”

what?

he gapes—he’s sure he’s gaping, but he can’t help it. his jaw drops even more when you don’t take it back, or even announce that you’re joking. you’re not joking. with a finger scratching the nape of your neck, you smile sheepishly. “i thought i was being obvious, but maybe not…?”

inumaki can’t help but mutter a soft, “oh” of realization.

it turns out he’s got it all wrong.

“oh,” says inumaki again.

he curses, and then shoves his phone away to take your hands. “salmon!” he exclaims, and he sounds so relieved and happy and you’re looking like you want to run away again. “salmon.”

“i’m sorry, i’m not sure what you mean—”

inumaki huffs and pulls his collar down. he’ll just show you.

it ends with a kiss.

remember when i said when i write jjk fics it would only be for inumaki? yeah well. TA DAAAAA ( ´ ▿ ` ) you should be worried tbh bc i literally have no idea wtf im doing with these characters