Latest Posts by nightmareluinor - Page 4

➵ you’re so vain -> l.hs

⚠︎ smut (mdni)

✎ jock!heeseung x reader, enemies to ?????, heeseung is rlly annoying, hate sex ;), hair pulling, dirty talk, unprotected sex, degradation, backshots lmao. i think that’s it?

summary: attending a new school was supposed to be a fresh start for you, trying to be nice to everyone and have new friends, yet coming across lee heeseung threw all of that out the window.

(heeseung x fem.reader)

wc: 3.2k

——————————————————————————

your sweaty hands could not be gripping the steering wheel any harder. you wouldn’t call yourself “super shy” but when it comes to a whole new community of people, teenagers, hell yeah you are.

you had to move exactly at the middle of the year due to your mom’s work. they offered her double the salary at the other side of the city, who was she to say no to that? although you were going to miss your friends and the overall environment of your old home, you couldn’t just tell your mom ‘no’, either way her decisions are final.

you just got here two days ago, and to be honest, it wasn’t that bad. the worst thing so far is the fact that the nearest shopping center was 30 minutes away but you’ll live.

you didn’t except your first day of school to be so nerve-wracking. surely you’ll make some friends but who knows what people are like here. eventually, you saw the big navy blue sign with your school’s name on it. it was an averagely big school, bigger than your old one, which also meant more people.

the parking space alone was scary. it was huge yet already full even though it was still fairly early. you went around in circles around the parking lot, trying to find a vacant spot. fortunately you did at the second-to-last line.

as you tried to park, the limited space you had made it difficult to, having to back up and drive in constantly. as you reversed your car, you must have completely forgotten that you aren’t the only one there, feeling a small crash at the bumper of your car.

your eyes widened in panic. you looked back to see what you hit, and with your luck, it revealed at very nice black car, to which you’ve just hit. you tried to quickly get into your parking spot, hoping it was nothing serious, but then someone came walking up to you.

‘shit, that must be the owner’ you saw his red, rather handsome, fuming face.

you got out of your car to confront the first person interaction.

“hey look im so-“

“CANT YOU FUCKING DRIVE RIGHT? YOU HIT MY VERY EXPENSIVE CAR WITH YOUR THING, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”

oh he was an asshole. you almost scoffed in his face. who does he think he is.

“it was accident that’s all, it was barely a scratch calm down man.”

“IT WAS DEFINITELY A SCRATCH LOOK AT IT! JUST BECAUSE YOU KEEP YOUR CAR LOOKING ALL MISERABLE DOESNT MEAN I WILL, DO YOU EVEN HAVE A LICENSE?”

lord take me back. you were so close to just leaving him there arguing with himself. but you didn’t want to make him even angrier.

“look im sorry! i can pay for the fix up if that’s what you want, i dont know what else to do?”

the boy scoffed and rolled his eyes at your statement.

“you think i don’t have the money for it? please, it shows you’re a newbie around here.”

“i didn’t mean it like that-“

“yo heeseung!! come on bro!” another blonde boy called from afar, hopefully ending the argument y’all were having.

“ watch your back new girl.” with one last glare, he left to join his group of friends.

you rolled your eyes. shiver my fucking timbers, you thought.

you took a deep breath before grabbing your backpack and making your way into school , hoping to never see his face ever again.

>>

you thought that was going to be the end of it all. but oh boy were you wrong. soon you found out that heeseung is the captain of the football team, and pretty much the most popular boy in school. as cliche as it sounds, every girl would drop their panties if he asked them to.

people know he’s not the nicest person ( an asshole) yet they still look up to him. that’s angered you. how are all these people so dumb? just because he’s kinda good-looking? seriously?

over the course of a few weeks, you’ve managed to make some friends, your closest taehyun and Isa. although you tried to block the negativity, heeseung made it really hard. always giving you snarky comments when he saw you around, ridiculing you in front of other people. somehow always finding a way to run into you despite not having any classes together. except gym.

“ bro open your eyes, catch the damn ball!” he yelled from across from you.

you hated sports. even less could you play one, but you gotta do it for the grade.

“the ball was too high up dummy!” you retorted, rolling your eyes for maybe the 100th time in the class period.

if you hated gym before, you definitely hated it more now.

as the period ended, you decided to take a quick shower in the locker rooms since you couldn’t handle being all sweaty and gross throughout the day.

heeseung finished changing and was outside the locker room with his friends, chatting, waiting for the bell to ring. that’s when he may have accidentally eavesdropped the conversation between your two friends, he could barely the names of.

“where’s _____?” taehyun asked isa, noticing how you weren’t with her.

“she’s taking a shower right now, she told us to not wait for her.” Isa shrugged before taehyun nodded.

a beautiful idea popped in heeseung’s brain. it was too good.

he excused himself and sneakily waited by the girl’s locker room, waiting for everyone to come out. once he only heard the shower you were using running, he quietly entered the room. the bell had rang about a minute ago, so the gym was empty, only you and him. the gym teacher god knows where.

he saw his target and rapidly grabbed the pile of clothes sitting on the bench, a smirk evident in his face.

suddenly the shower stopped running, making heeseung hurry and exit the locker room.

the shower felt too good, you think you spent more time that you anticipated to. as you exited the shower tiles, you looked around for your clothes, which you remember clearly leaving them in the bench closest to the shower. you looked around the whole locker room, hoping you were wrong and placed them elsewhere. unfortunately, you couldn’t even find your damn socks.

your biggest fear has come true. you’re now naked, nothing but a towel covering you, this was more than just humiliating. you felt sad, mad, angry, embarrassed all at once. they’ve been stolen for sure, and you were more than sure on who did it.

grabbing your phone you called Isa, to see if she could help you somehow. and she indeed did. bringing you some spare clothes she had. thankfully, you always bring extra underwear since situations like these could happen. you just had to wait for isa for the clothes, yet the five minutes she took felt like five hours. unfortunately, passing period is over, meaning some students are coming in the locker room to change.

many of them just straight up stared at you. giving you weird looks as to why you were pretty much naked in the middle of the locker room, but none had the guts to ask you.

you wished the ground would just swallow you whole. lee heeseung won’t hear the end of it.

“LEE HEESEUNG!” you yelled across the field. he and his friends were siting down eating lunch outside when you spotted him after trying to find him after the stunt he just pulled.

heeseung knew it was coming, giggling with his friends as they heard you yell his name once again. “ oh she’s about to scold me now .” heeseung scoffed but still got up and went over to you.

“yes ma’am?” he said with a smile, you wish you could slap off but you’re better than that.

“YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID DO YOU KNOW HOW EMBARRASSING THAT WAS?”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about..” heeseung tried acting innocent but failed as he just burst out laughing. you groaned, how on earth is that funny?

“cute panties by the way” he continued to laugh, not sparing a glance at your mad expression on your face.

“you’re such an ass, i hate your guts.” you said leaving him alone, laughing to himself.

“yo bro i think she actually got mad this time.” his friend, jake came over.

heeseung shrugged. “she’s so sensitive, it wasn’t even that bad.”

“i can’t believe he did that…” taehyun said as you told them both what had happened. Isa knew a little bit but not who did it.

“that’s fucked up, what’s he got against you so much?”

you shrugged. “i guess because i gave his car a little scratch, but i guess he took it to heart since he hasn’t stopped bothering me since. he’s a jerk.”

“finally someone who thinks the same as me!” taehyun said making you chuckle.

“then get back at him! you know the one thing that makes him who he is is that damn football.” Isa said.

you tried to be the bigger person this whole time, not paying much mind to his little remarks or pranks he pulls, biting back a little wouldn’t hurt right?

“you know what, you’re right.”

“lee heeseung, mrs. park wants to speak to you.” mr.jung said calling heeseung.

heeseung who was barely paying attention heard his name. his frowned at this. what on earth could she want to talk about with him? either way, he went to her classroom.

he entered the empty classroom to find his coach and mrs.park, waiting for him. what the fuck? heeseung was more confused now. maybe they were going to congratulate him for the good work this semester? his coach’s face said otherwise though.

“there you are, you may be wondering why you’re here..” mrs.park started. heeseung nodded, feeling uneasy.

“a student came forward, showing how you copied word for word her whole assignment, the one i assigned a week ago. i didn’t notice it at first but it’s very clear now, you may know how cheating is unacceptable in my class, i’ve decided to fail you in this assignment, plus you’ll be serving detention this whole week..” she turned to the coach.

heeseung’s heart started beating at a rapid pace, he’s never been caught cheating, and being failed on the assignment that was a big part of his grade, it means he’s most likely failing the class now. the rules for football stated that all players should be passing all of their classes if not, they’ll be dropped….

no no no, the lee heeseung can’t be dropped. he’s the captain! the star player!

“since you’re failing this class heeseung, i think you know what’s about to happe-“

“please coach! don’t kick me out, i’m the captain! what would the team do without me? i’ll get my grade up as soon as possible im-“

“calm down calm down, i’m not going to kick you out, it’s the middle of the season, but unfortunately you won’t be playing the next three games. if your grade is not up by then, then i will drop you. understood?” his coach stated earning a sharp nod by heeseung.

he’s glad he’s still on the team but what’s the point if he can’t play? he’s going to become a joke. the captain that’s a bench warmer. how stupid.

he left the classroom enraged. he knows exactly who did this.

“bro what? what do you mean you ain’t gonna play ?” riki said in disbelief at what his captain just said.

“some snitch told mrs.park that i cheated on the last assignment and coach suspended me for the next three games, and i got detention all week!” sunghoon unknowingly chuckled. heeseung looked at him with a glare.

“what? she got you good, what did you expect hee?” sunghoon kept laughing, making some of the others also laugh silently.

heeseung had nothing to say back, he just rolled his eyes. “tch, whatever.”

nevertheless, you were overjoyed seeing heeseung slouching on the bench. you couldn’t miss this once in a lifetime scenario. obviously you were the cause for it. heeseung asks Isa almost all the time for her notes or to straight up copy her. she willingly let you rat him out after what he did to you.

he can sense how all eyes were on him, but he just tried to block everyone out a focus on the game. he had a poker face on, but deep inside he was irritated . he saw how you were smirking and laughing with your two little friends. you knew what you were doing.

>>

“ahh look who it is, the benchwarmer! “ you said chuckling as you made your way to heeseung.

after the team (barely) won, jake threw an ‘after party’ at his house. even though you don’t normally go to these parties, especially from those boys, you felt like a party would do good with your marvellous mood. something about seeing heeseung’s frowny face made feel over the moon.

“seems like cat got your tongue now huh? dont have anything to say-“

in a blink of an eye you were pulled into a room, heeseung’s fingers wrapped around your neck, pulling your face closer to his.

“what the fuck? heeseung-“

“shut the fuck up.” his hoarse voice caught you off guard. he was actually really mad.

“you think what you did it’s fucking funny? huh? almost getting me kicked out ? “ you’ve never seen him this enraged before. making you almost scared, yet….kinda turned on? no, you hate him, snap out of it! you told yourself yet the wetness in between your legs became hard to ignore.

you didn’t respond. “fuck, you’re so annoying, i can’t fucking stand you. i hate you.” he saw lowly. fuck that was hot.

you spoke before thinking. “then show me.”

not needing to tell him twice, heeseung pulled you completely in. your lips met in a kiss that was anything but gentle, a fierce and consuming clash that spoke longing and raw need.

The kiss deepened, fueled by an unspoken urgency, their mouths exploring each other with a fervor that left y’all breathless. his grip on your neck becoming tighter.

“shit im gonna show you to fucking behave.” he said before pushing you into the bed forcefully. you may have discovered a new kink of yours. watching as he undressed himself and yourself rapidly. feeling his anger through every touch he gave you.

he rubbed through your folds before inserting two fingers aggressively. your body jolted at the sudden move.

“holy shit go softer dumbass.”

“aw you think i give a fuck? suck it up and take it since you think you’re all that.” his fingers pumped faster and faster making it hard for you to answer back to his stupid remarks.

“oh my god..” you tried to pull his hand away before you cum. not wanting to see you orgasm so easily yet.

“just fuck me already heeseung, or is your dick as tiny as your brain?”

heeseung looked darkly at you. that stupid mouth of yours can’t shut up will it?

he retracted his fingers put of you and took his boxers off. wanting nothing more than to prove you wrong.

shit. your eyes went wide at what stood in front of you. saying he was big was an understatement. it was like a zipper for your mouth. how was that thing going to fit inside of you?

“can’t say anything now, can you slut?” he pulled your legs down the mattress to have you at the perfect angle to ram into you.

heeseung ran his til over your folds, teasing his way in. making you aggrevated.

“just put it in for fucks sake!”

“tell me how bad you want it.” you shook your head, no way were you going to beg. no way.

“alright then, i guess im gonna go.” he said letting go of your waist, acting as if he was going to leave.

“okay okay! please fuck me, i want it so bad, i want your big cock so bad heeseung.” heeseung moaned at your words. he didn’t wait any longer and thrusted all of him in you.

you both moaned yet it was more painful for you. you’ve never had something so big inside you before.

“fuck yeah..” he said then grabbing your neck, slightly choking you. your hands went to his biceps, trying to find something to hold on to as the speed he was thrusting in became more hostile.

“fuck me harder, like the asshole you are.” you said in between breaths. heeseung took the challenge and thrusted violently. the skin slapping and wetness of your core could probably be heard in the party outside.

“of course a whore like you would like to be fucked like this.”

before you could respond he pulled out of you earning a desperate groan from you, but then your were flipped, now on all fours and before you knew it he was back in you again. gripping your hip with one hand while he pulled your hair on the other.

“such a tight pussy, you probably fantasized about this am i right?” he said in your ear. you shook your head through your moan.

“in your dreams lee, in your fucking dreams. fuck you.”

“i’m quite literally doing that.” chuckling, he let go of your hair and instead gripped your other hip, going in deeper, nudging your cervix literally driving you to an edge.

“fuck i’m cumming.” you cried out. never has an orgasm felt like this. heeseung was on edge as well, feeling you clench around his dick did it for him.

your climax rose over you, making you fall into the pillow while heeseung kept thrusting until his own organs came over him, pulling out and releasing his white ropes all over your back.

tiredly, he laid besides you in the strangers bed, not knowing what to say now.

you turned to him, smirking. “i think i may hate you even more now.”

for you.

PAIRING... barista! jungwon x gn! reader | GENRE... boyfriend! jungwon, fluff, humor, jealousy | WC... 0.2k | “i like it when you get jealous.” | jealous reader lol

you slam the spoon on the table, startling nearby customers. you breathe out deeply, closing your eyes in an attempt to collect yourself. 

but how could you? 

how could you when the first thing that greeted your eyes when you walked into the cafe was a random girl flirting with your boyfriend? 

and said boyfriend having no choice but to go along with it as the worker on duty? 

it was stupid. stupid girl, stupid coffee, stupid- 

“y/n. how about we don’t scare the other customers?” 

your eyes fly open and he visibly flinches at the look you give him. 

“how about you go back to doing your job?” 

“whoa. hey. what’s wrong?” your boyfriend softens, grabbing your hand in hopes of calming you. 

you purposely avoid his eyes but don’t shrug his hand off. “i don’t know, jungwon. why don’t you ask that girl who tried to give you her number?” 

he blanks before a surprised laugh escapes him. you shoot him a glare. 

“so that’s what it is…” he murmurs and although you don’t catch what he said, you still huff and look away from jungwon. 

yeah, you were being petty and you knew it. 

“wait for me when my shift is over?”

you really can’t stay mad at him for long. “yeah, whatever,” you grumble.

he smile grows, “okay, i gotta get back now. oh and,” you stare at him questioningly,

“i like it when you get jealous,” he comments simply before walking back to the register. 

your mouth drops open and you’re not sure but you think the people around you have the same reaction. 

jungwon only smirks as he calls for the next order. 

a/n ▸ig this is for @coffeewon ?? >3&lt; miss u >3<

MAIN TAGLIST ▸ @precioussoulofmine @lov3niki @heesterical @coffeewon @rerequire @nvertheless

send a message to be added to the taglist!

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

that wasn’t what it sounded like! 

synopsis: you accidentally hear them say they don't like you.

characters: kuroo, suna

warnings: this was written back in 2020 and i decided to repost it so yea, be warned ig, angst to fluff!

kuroo: 

with a sigh, you tried mustering up all the confidence you can as you trudged towards the gym. 

‘this is the day.’ you thought to yourself. you were finally going to confess to kuroo. after having numerous debates with your mind, you finally came to the decision to confess. 

your heartbeat quickened at the numerous scenarios you were thinking, most of them being rejection. 

the worst thing that can happen is rejection, right? 

you couldn’t help but fall for kuroo, how could you not? he was funny, smart, and being handsome was a nice plus. you already knew that it would be hard to just tell him about your feelings, especially knowing that he probably only viewed you as a friend. 

once you arrived by the gym, you took a deep breath before going in with a smile, waving to kenma who acknowledged you by looking up from his game.

“uh.. have you seen kuroo?” you sheepishly asked kenma who looked at you curiously before nodding to the locker room.

“hey, (y/n)?” kenma called out. “yeah?”

“goodluck.” your eyes widened as he gave you a small smile. 

you sometimes hated how perceptive kenma is despite his nonchalant behavior. with a determined nod, you walked towards the locker room, hoping to see kuroo walk out from the door. 

when you were at a near distance from the door, you hear a bunch of chatter. you didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you perked your head when you heard your name come out from a voice you recognized as yaku’s. 

“man, kuroo. you’re lucky! you have (y/n) crushing on you.” a smack was heard after, kuroo groaning in pain followed afterward. 

your heartbeat quickened when you heard the captain laugh in response. 

“come on, yakkun. (y/n) and i are just friends!” for now. “eh?! seriously? you don’t like her in that way?” you scoot a bit closer to the door, wanting to hear his answer before you take the leap. 

“don’t be ridiculous, yakkun. we’re friends, and that’s it.” your heart dropped at his words. 

you were so caught up in evaluating kuroo’s answer that you didn’t realize the door to the locker room opened. “oh, (y/n)? what’re you doing here?” the chatter in the locker room evidently stopped. you blinked, trying to keep tears at bay. 

you looked up to kai who looked at you with a kind expression. “ah, our professor told me to give this to tet- kuroo-san.” you say, giving him a folder. “i have to go, please give this to him for me. thank you, kai!” you say before running off, passing by the freshmen who gave you a wave of excitement. you couldn’t find it in yourself to smile back as you ran from the gym.

once you were at a safe place, you let the tears fall free. you didn’t know why you were crying. 

‘you didn’t even confess, for crying out loud! so why are you sad?’ you thought to yourself, laughing as you wiped your eyes. 

you felt pathetic for ever thinking that kuroo would ever look at you that way. you were friends. he specified so clearly to one of his closest friends. that was all the confirmation you needed. 

you knew you had to distance yourself on the following days. knowing that if you don’t you’ll fall even deeper and get hurt. 

and you were tired of getting hurt. 

“oi, chibi. why did the picture go to jail?” kuroo asked when the class was about to end. you took a while to answer him, you only answered when you felt him poke his pen by your cheek. “oi.” “i don’t know, kuroo. why?” kuroo could almost shiver at the tone you used, but he thinks it may just be a bad day. maybe his jokes could make it better? it always did. 

“because it was framed.” not wanting to ignore him, but not wanting to indulge him either you give him a short laugh that can be mistaken as a breath. 

“was it not funny?” “it was.” 

kuroo was silent for a few seconds before asking you with a small nudge from his elbow. 

“are you okay?” “mhm.” you realized that that answer was too curt, something that would possibly make him suspicious. and you didn’t want that. 

“i just need to listen to this lesson, this is very confusing.” you follow up quickly, taking down notes just to not look suspicious. 

“you know i could always tutor you, right?” kuroo said, a reassuring tone lacing his voice. you turn to give him a small nod and smile. “i know.” but i’d like to not be with you unless necessary. “thank you.” 

kuroo furrowed his eyebrows, clearly he knew something was wrong. but before he could ask, the bell rang and you immediately went out of the room. not even giving kuroo his usual goodbye. 

something was definitely wrong. 

“(y/n’s) acting weird.” kuroo couldn’t help but mention when they were on the train home. “eh?” kenma kept clicking on his console, listening intently as his childhood friend rant on about you. 

“and then suddenly they turned cold! i don’t remember doing anything to make them mad.” kuroo was frustrated to say the least, he knew that your friendship was going well, so of course he would be confused as to why you suddenly gave him the cold shoulder.

“i mean… did you reject them?” kenma asked, eyes still on his console. kuroo furrowed his eyebrows at his friend. “reject them? what?” 

kenma paused the game and looked up to kuroo. 

“so, they didn’t confess?” kuroo shook his head in response to kenma’s question. kenma sighed, “i think i know what’s going on.” 

“well, don’t keep it to yourself, kenma. tell me.” kuroo urged. 

“they heard you say you don’t like them.” kenma said, unpausing his game. “well, that’s only my thoughts. i wouldn’t know.” 

now that kuroo thought about it, when he told yaku he only saw you as a friend, the door of the locker room opened to reveal you, who gave kai a document that was meant for him before running off. 

kuroo should’ve known you’ve heard. because no matter how busy you were, you would always wish him good luck on his practices and give him a corny joke to keep him motivated. 

“fuck.” kuroo muttered, placing his hands by his eyes and tilting his head back on the window of the train, groaning from frustration. 

there was a small pause of silence, only the clicking of kenma’s console was heard before the underclassman spoke. 

“what do you plan on doing now?”

“hey, we need to talk.” kuroo cornered you by the locker, you shut the metal door lightly before giving him an apology. 

“i’m really needed for the next class.” at this point, you weren’t even trying to hide the sheer fact that you were avoiding him. 

“we’re in the same class, and we both know the teacher wouldn’t show up until half the hour passes. try again, (y/n).” 

“i just don’t want to talk to you.” you say straight up, not even trying to put a filter and kuroo felt his heart clench painfully at your tone. 

“too bad. you don’t have a choice.” without a word, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away to a vacant classroom. 

“why have you been avoiding me.” kuroo knows the answer to his question, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. 

“i was busy, can i go now. please?” you say as curt as possible, not wanting to melt under his gaze. not wanting to break whatever resolve you have built up from the past few days you ignored him. 

“i’m not buying it.” kuroo says, crossing his arms and eyeing you down. you knew that you wouldn’t be able to keep up the tough act if you stayed there.

“you’re so unfair, kuroo.” you couldn’t help but whisper. kuroo’s posture immediately straightened. 

“i’m unfair?” kuroo asked with an amused grin on his face. “i don’t think i’m the one who ignored someone for days for no apparent reason.” you looked down at his words, knowing he has the upperhand. just why did you think you could escape him?

“i’m not the one who made someone think that they did something wrong.” you didn’t realize that he was getting closer, not until you saw his shoes in front of you and felt his hands on your chin, making you look up to him. 

“i’m the one who was deprived of a confession from the person i like, don’t you think it’s unfair for me?” your eyes widened for a few milliseconds before you pushed him away. 

“stop messing around, kuroo.” your voice cracked. “just let me move on. and i promise i’ll be back to normal.” you both know that was an empty promise. if kuroo didn’t corner you, then you would’ve completely tried to eradicate him from your life. but kuroo couldn’t have that. 

now that he knew you liked him back, how could he let this chance go to waste. 

“you think i’ll let you go when i finally have an opportunity to pursue you?” your throat went dry. 

“kuroo... stop. you don’t need to pretend, i heard what you said to yaku. it’s fine, really.” at this point, you wanted to get out as soon as possible. you knew you were going to break down if this keeps on going.

“(y/n), please. believe me. i truly do like you back.” you felt tears prick your eyes. this was some sick joke kuroo was playing at. 

kuroo panicked, seeing tears well up in your eyes before you blinked it away. 

“but i-” “yes. i know that i said those words that day, but it was to shut yakkun up… and to hide my own feelings.” kuroo said the last part quietly. if he weren’t holding you, you probably wouldn’t have heard. 

he lets go of your chin before sighing. “i’ve been in love with you for so long, i didn’t know how to deal with it so i kept denying it. i didn’t tell yaku the truth because i didn’t need him to make fun of me because i couldn’t get the person i wanted.” kuroo let it out, you were shocked. 

he felt the same way?

“kuroo…?” “(y/n). i’m sorry, but i can’t let you go. especially now when i know i have a chance. so please.” unbeknownst to the both of you, your heartbeats were almost identical on how fast it paced. 

“i...” you started. not knowing the right words to say. 

“i think we should… take things slow.” you look at him, giving him the smallest of smiles you can muster. “if that’s okay with you?” 

kuroo couldn’t find it in himself to suppress the wide smile that was plastered on his face. without another word, he pulled you to his chest. his laugh rang out the empty classroom. 

“god. i didn’t want to confess this way… but here we are.” kuroo pulled away and laughed. 

“don’t break my heart, kuroo.” you warned lightheartedly. he gave you a smile that was laced with all the adoration he felt for you before pecking raising your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles. 

“i wouldn’t dream of it.”

suna:

the whistle was blown, signaling the end of their practice. you smiled in encouragement to the members who looked like they’ve gone through hell and back. from the intensity of their training, you would probably believe so. 

“nice work.” you say, handing atsumu his water bottle. the setter gave you a pat on the head before gesturing to suna who was wiping his sweat with a towel. “go talk to ‘yer loverboy.” 

you rolled your eyes at his statement, but walked towards the middle blocker anyway.

“nice work out there, rin!” you smile, giving him the water bottle that you prepared. of course, it was your own water bottle with the liquid infused with citrus. you thought about putting it in his, but then again, the water bottles were identical and someone else might drink it. 

“(y/n)~ why does suna get special treatment?” akagi whined. your eyes widened, not knowing that the libero was watching your interactions. 

“i want manager-san’s special treatment too!” ginjima whined as well, your face heat up at the sudden attention before the coach blew the whistle once more. 

“seems like break is over, be back later, (y/n).” suna stated, giving you back your water bottle and a quick pat on the head. your face heated up with the contact. 

“yeah.” you were in a daze, staring at suna’s figure as he went back to court. 

“‘yer staring, manager-san.” kita’s straightforward voice cut off your thoughts. “huh? what?” 

a smirk formed on kita’s face. “be careful, (y/n). ‘yer not being as cautious as before.” 

“what did you mean before? kita-san. i-” “liked our middle blocker since before you were our manager? i’m well aware.” if you and kita weren’t close, you would be scared on how he managed to catch on quickly with your stupid crush. “i’m right, aren’t i?” 

“i sometimes hate you, kita.” a scoff was heard from the bicolored male. “sure you do.” 

you and the captain went on with your banter. occasionally noting down some of the notable movements the team did in their practice. 

when the whistle was blown, that was then you realized that you have forgotten to fill up the water bottles once more. with a quick bow, you ran outside to fill it up with refreshing cold water. once done, you struggled to carry the weight of several bottles at once. 

“when do you plan on confessing to (y/n), suna?” you stopped in your tracks as you hear atsumu’s voice reverberate from the other side of the wall. 

“what are you talking about?” suna retaliated, voice deadpanned as usual. “come on, suna. don’t think we don’t see the way (y/n) has heart eyes for you.” you almost dropped the water bottles in your hands. your heart beat quick, realizing that suna was well aware of your crush on him. 

“so?” the same deadpanned voice answered. you felt saddened at the lack of emotion in his tone. “what do you plan to do if they tell you?” 

you weren’t prepared for his answer, you didn’t want to know.  

“i don’t know what you want me to say, i don’t like (y/n) that way.” fuck.

at this point, your throat felt clogged and tears were forming in your eyes. you always knew that you should have never let this small crush turn into something more, now you were here. feeling sad just because of your hopeless crush on the team’s middle blocker. 

you didn’t realize that you dropped a water bottle, when you looked down, you saw lemon slices floating around the water. as if it were mocking you. 

you sigh, picking it up. ‘one last time.’ you thought to yourself before entering the gym, pretending you didn’t just get your heart broken.

“no lemons this time?” suna asked as you gave him his water bottle. “didn’t find any.” you say as curt as possible before attending to the other members of the team to which the others found odd. 

since when was he the first one you tended to? usually you always placed him as last so you could talk to him more. maybe you just forgot? did something happen? 

either way, the team was in confusion with your sudden shift in attitude. especially suna, who has gotten used to your daily banter every training. 

the middle blocker shrugged it off before taking a sip of the plain water. maybe you just weren’t in the mood today? who knows. 

it wasn’t only today, but the next few days. suna began noticing how his interactions with you have drastically decreased, he never took notice of how much he actually craved your presence until you stopped giving him attention and began treating him like how you treat the twins. 

well, there wasn’t anything wrong with the way you treated the twins, but he thought he was special. he knows he was special, maybe that’s why he thought that you might have possibly liked him back. but why did you suddenly drift away from him? 

suna doesn’t remember anything that he could have possibly done for you to stray away from him. 

“good work.” “are we okay?” suna suddenly asked you, who was giving out his water bottle as per usual. “of course.” you say before plopping the bottle on his hand and moving on to the next member.

“relationship problems?” osamu teased as he went beside suna, sipping on his own water bottle. “shut it, miya.”

the middle blocker hated this. he hated how all of a sudden you pretended as if the both of you were only club mates and nothing else. 

but isn’t that what you were? you weren’t obligated to keep him company during breaks and talk about your guys’ days and plans. so why was he so bothered that you weren’t beside him?

suna had a thought, but he immediately crossed it off his mind because he knows it’s impossible. 

suna likes you, and you moved away even before he could act on it. 

“good wo-” “can we talk?” suna cut you off. you raised an eyebrow at him before trying to give him his water bottle. 

“i’m not taking that.” he huffed, before continuing. “give the others theirs first then get back to me. just like before.” startled, you wordlessly nodded before giving the rest of the members their water bottles. 

once you were done, you felt suna pull your wrist and dragged you outside. a knowing smirk invaded the twins’ faces as they saw the both of you leave. 

“suna-” “what is your problem?” your eyes widened at the sharp tone that suna gave you. 

“i have no idea what you mean.” “why have you been getting distant lately?” “i was busy, suna”

suna looked at you, knowing he isn’t buying a single word you say. he wanted to cringe at the way you called him by his last name, but he couldn’t afford to lose his composure. 

“we both know that’s absolute bullshit, (y/n).” you narrowed your eyes at his response. 

“why does it matter, suna?” you bit back,  having been fed up with this conversation. “i just want to know what i did that made you act weird around me.” 

you tense up, not knowing what to say next. you knew it was unfair to make suna feel as if he did something wrong, but you knew the more you acted upon your feelings, the more you won’t be able to move on. so with a deep breath you braced yourself for your next words. 

“you did nothing, suna.” you gave him a small smile. “that is just me trying to move on. so please, give me some time.” 

suna blinked. was that a confession? he couldn’t register it fast enough before he tightened his grip on your wrist. 

“(y/n)... what do you mean?” “i don’t want to repeat myself, suna.” you say, gently trying to take your wrist from him. 

“you like me back.” suna says, more to himself than to you. you gave him a look of disbelief. “don’t be ridiculous.” 

“no, (y/n). you like me back.” a small smirk was plastered on his face, you felt your face heat up. 

“i did.” you could barely see the way his smirk faltered. “did?” 

you sigh, wanting to get this over with. 

“i heard you say to the twins that you don’t like me in that way. and it made me realize that maybe i’ve been reading the signs wrong and you only like me as a friend.” you explain, effectively pulling away your wrist the moment he faltered in his grip. 

“no hard feelings, suna. i just need time to move on, and since we’re here now. can you please tell me to move on? just so i can have the closure i need.” you say. 

unbeknownst to you, suna only said that so the twins would leave him alone. he’s always liked you, even before you were their manager. and when you suddenly gave him special treatment, he felt as if you returned his feelings. 

now that he knows you like him back, the twins be damned. he can’t let you go. 

“be with me?” “did you not hear what i said? i said i’m trying to move o-” “no.” 

suna said, taking a step closer to you. “i said i didn’t like you that way because i didn’t want the twins knowing and potentially ruining my chance with you because we both know they’d never shut up.” suna started.

“i didn’t confess because i didn’t want to assume that you liked me the way i liked you. but god, whenever you strut in the gym and give me your stupid hello kitty bottle filled with lemon water. i couldn’t help but assume.” you make a face. “my hello kitty bottle is not stupid, rin.” 

suna smiled at the returned nickname. “and you didn’t assume. i really do like you back.” 

“so...” suna trailed off. “so…?” 

“do you want to go out with me, after training?” suna didn’t know where the courage came from, before he could shy away from his question. you gave him a smile, a small blush on your face. 

“i.. i’d love to.” 

“and will you bring back the lemon water. i miss the stupid hello kitty bottle.” he was hit by the arm as you pouted. “once again, my hello kitty bottle is not stupid, rin.” 

suna smiled before placing a hand on your head. 

“sure, (y/n).” 

note: i love suna i want him to trip on a rock

only you

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ⚹ cw. part 2 of just a game , hyung line , 2nd pov , ︎ fluff / comfort , lowercase intended , crying , cliche fluff omfg , karina mentioned on heeseung's & wonyoung on sunghoon's , not proofread ! highly recommended to read part one first !

after catching them holding hands with another female, you walk away from them and they run after you, assuring you it was all a misunderstanding.

★ LEE HEESEUNG (0.5k words)

the day was coming to an end and heeseung has yet to find you.

after he had politely rejected karina, he ran after you but to no avail. all of his attempts on trying to reach you was a bootless errand. everytime he had seen a glimpse of you - whether in the cafeteria, library, the hallways, and god even in your shared class - you somehow always found a way to avoid him.

he could've simply gave up and moved on, he could've ran back to karina and date her instead. but he didn't want to give up and move on, he didn't want to run back to karina and date her, because what he wanted- needed, was you.

heeseung didn't want to go home yet, he needed to see you and explain everything. he'd be a fool to let you out his reach especially now that he knows you feel the same for him. he wasn't going to lose you because of a stupid mistake he made.

spotting a familiar figure sitting underneath a tree in the university's garden, he silently walked towards them, his fingers crossed hoping that he's finally found you.

and as if the universe was on his side, he saw you gorgeously flipping through a book with your pink earphones on. heeseung silently sat beside you, hoping you won't run away from him again. he saw how you stiffened and how your fingers stopped playing with the book's pages, and he wanted nothing but to hold your hand. it was your hand he wanted to hold- no one else's. you may not be with him yet, but ever since he realized he liked you, he was already yours before you even knew.

"y/n," he started softly, gently removing one earbud from your ear so you could hear him. you let him and look at him with hesitance, scared that he's here to tell you that he's changed his mind and he likes karina now instead.

heeseung smiled softly at you, "please let me talk and explain everything, okay?" you nodded, feeling your throat clogging up. "karina, you know she's one of my good friends, right? when you saw me holding her hand a while ago, she was the one who took my hand. i was so taken aback by her confession that i completely froze-..

because she's like a sister to me and you're the one i want. you're the one i need.. the one i like." he paused, brows furrowed in worry, hoping you'd understand. "i'm sorry for letting her hold my hand, and i'm sorry for hurting you. i really really like you y/n, please let me redeem myself to you." he finished, a small hesitant smile in his face as he studied yours.

feeling overwhelmed, you burst into tears. heeseung panicked, thinking he said something wrong and brought you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

"i thought you'd choose her over me." you cried in his chest, your own arms wrapping around his waist. heeseung didn't know why, but even when you were crying in his chest with your arms wrapped around his waist, he was feeling over the moon.

shaking his head, he pulled you closer if it was even possible and mumbled in your hair, "i'll choose you in a room full of other girls baby. only you."

other members utc!

★  PARK JONGSEONG (0.5k words)

3 hours was enough space right? jay liked to think it was, he was too impatient and just wanted to run to you and explain everything, but he knew you probably didn't want to see him after what you've witnessed.

jay had tried to put himself in your shoe, imagining seeing you holding hands with another boy after confessing to you- by the thought of it alone already made him feel ten times more worse, he hated himself with how much pain he had caused you.

so instead of waiting until tomorrow, jay took his bag and walked out of the cafeteria, ignoring his friends that were calling for him. he already knew where to find you, after all, he's always had his eyes on you ever since the first semester started.

jay muttered a quiet 'good afternoon' to the librarian before making a beeline towards the back of the library and there you were in your element. laptop open, headphones on with multiple books on the table you've occupied.

he liked to think that his type were girls that were a bit dumb so that he could lead the relationship, but when it comes to you? smart, pretty, and soft spoken? if his heart could speak, he's certain that the only word it can mutter is your name, and he's not ashamed to admit that.

the moment you looked up and made eye contact with him almost made his knees give up if it weren't for him holding on to a shelf to stabilize himself, and when you softly smiled at him despite what you saw that morning, it made him yearn for you more. he wouldn't ask for no one else.

call him cliché but you were the only one for him.

"what are you doing there? come sit." you motioned on the empty seat across from you to which he occupied immediately. "have you eaten?"

"have you?" he questioned back, eyeing the papers and books splattered on the table. "i had coffee." was your reply.

jay knew that you were still upset, it was showing in your body language. you were tense, stiff, and your fingers were shaking behind your laptop. he wanted to punch himself for making you feel this way.

"i'm sorry y/n, i really am." the hum you let out made him continue, his eyes studying your pretty face silently. "it's really not what it looked like-"

"everyone says that jay." the way you bit your lip told him that you didn't mean to cut his sentence off and be so harsh.

"yes, i know, it's stupid but i'm telling the truth. she bumped into me and fell, i couldn't just leave her on the floor because everyone saw our collision so i offered her a hand. that was it, i was about to walk away but she introduced herself and insisted on shaking hands.. then you saw me.

i know it looked so wrong from your perspective without context, and i'm sorry for upsetting you. i really had no other intentions, i was telling you the truth when i told you that night that i like you too, so much." he reached out for your hand, sighing in relief when you didn't pull away.

you nodded your head in understanding, squeezing his hand to tell him you now understand. "i'm sorry for jumping into conclusions and not hearing you out the first time."

he shook his head, squeezing your hand back. "it's okay, i understand. we're good now?" chuckling at him, you nodded and smiled at him. "we are, thank you."

★ SIM JAEYUN (0.4k words)

the tears in your eyes as you walked away from him made his heart crack. should he run after you? will you find him annoying? do you want him to run after you or do you want nothing to do with him now?

after arguing with himself on his head, he ran after you and engulfed you in a hug before you could turn around the corner and disappear from his sight. "please let me explain." his own voice cracked, and the weird looks you both received from the other students did not faze him at all.

"jake, not here please. they're looking at us.." he hastily took your hand and led you into an empty classroom, wanting nothing more than to assure you that what you thought is wrong and all he wanted was only you.

after he had made sure the door was locked and no one else was hiding somewhere, he immediately took your hands in his rubbing the back of your palm with his thumb.

you didn't know what to feel, was this how he held that girl's hand too? did he hold hers with gentleness too? with that in thought, your tears were back.

"no no, please don't cry. it was all a misunderstanding i promise." he held your face and wiped away the tears, his eyes held worry but so much love as well.

"she mistook me as her boyfriend, it didn't even last for 10 seconds because the moment she held my hand we both pulled away from each other.. it was just wrong timing that you saw it and we made eye contact, please believe me." he was practically crying with you right now, his own tears cascading down the apple of his cheeks.

you frantically nodded your head - now you were the one panicking at the sight of his tears. "i do, thank you for explaining. please don't cry." his tears were wiped with your thumbs as you hugged him tight.

"i don't want you to ever think i'm lying to you, you're really all i need." he explained further through his sobs, his arms tightening around you more.

there you two were, hugging each other in an empty room, tears falling down from both of your eyes as you comforted each other. and at that moment, no one else mattered - it was just the both of you in the world.

★ PARK SUNGHOON (0.6k words)

to say that sunghoon felt like shit the whole day yesterday and this morning was an understatement. he had desperately contacted you in all your social media accounts - fucking christ he even contacted you through your school's email, but to no avail, he was always left ignored.

he didn't blame you though, if he was to experience and see what you did yesterday, he would act the same - maybe even worse. sunghoon wanted nothing more but to make it up to you, to explain that he was only doing wonyoung a favor to make her crush jealous. i guess you could blame him for agreeing, but did he really have a choice when she just randomly grabbed him and told him to smile at every passing student? maybe.

he had texted wonyoung that same afternoon, telling her- demanding her politely? to explain everything to you, she told him she did but was only left on read by you. the girl apologized profusely to you and sunghoon, she didn't have any idea about the two of you and if she did - she wouldn't have done what she did.

but what's done is done, and now sunghoon is still trying to desperately reach you. throughout the day, he would hear your name coming out of other people's mouth, but not once did he catch a single glimpse of you. sunghoon was running out of options, he didn't want to be that type of guy to show up infront of your door step in fear of crossing boundaries, but he was seriously considering doing it today.

sunghoon mentally chanted your name in his head as if that would help and summon you, and you know what? maybe it did work because now he was seeing you standing across from him, your back facing towards him as you looked at the bulletin board.

not wasting any time, he raced towards you and gently grabbed your forearm, successfully turning your attention from the bulletin board to the taller boy behind you. sunghoon wanted the ground to swallow him whole when he saw how your face dropped at the sight of him.

"let's talk, please?" he whispered that only you could hear, glancing around the corridor before looking back at you. the small hesitant nod was everything he needed before he lead you in an empty hall as everyone was in the cafeteria.

sunghoon took his chance and took you in, loving the way you've dressed yourself today and he wanted to just keep you in his arms all day, but he reminded himself that he needed to clear things up and make you his girlfriend obviously before he could even do that.

"wony already explained everything, i'm sorry for assuming the wrong thing.." sunghoon was taken aback by your sudden apology, and the tightness in his chest grew.

he took your face in his hand, gently bringing your chin up so he could look you in the eye. "i should be the one apologizing.. i'm sorry for making you feel that way, i didn't have any other intentions towards her and i only like you.. so much to the point that it hurts. i'll do anything to prove it to you."

he couldn't understand that someone so precious as you could grow such feelings for him, he couldn't process and believe that he's important to someone he finds important too. should he be punished by the gods above because he finds your teary eyes enchanting? he could see his reflection in your eyes and the love it carries, and somehow he finally understands. sunghoon feels warm as he brought you to his chest, tucking your head in the crook of his neck.

"i'll show you, i'll give you my everything and my forever. you're it for me."

ash's masterlist

📌 the encafe series [ot7] you in the rain [nishimura riki]

ot7 headcanons

enhypen as your valentine [fluff, established rs]

enhypen as dangerous woman songs [fluff, established rs]

nishimura riki

you in the rain [fluff, romance, highschool au, strangers to lovers]

you turn it right around [fluff n comfort, highschool au, established rs]

i get the feeling that you're just holding on [comfort au, established rs]

royal flush [fluff, romance, uni au, roommates to lovers, established rs]

a cruel summer with you [fluff, romance, hs au, rivals to lovers]

the muse [fluff, established rs, artistxmuse]

what's your ETA? [fluff, established rs, forced proximity on the train]

yang jungwon

engraving on my wrist [fluff, idol x trainee au]

jungwon as your situationship [fluff, idol x trainee, getting together]

kim sunoo

tough case [fluff, hurt/comfort, established rs]

lee heeseung

gummy bears [fluff, mutual crushing, highschool au]

what's your ETA?

synopsis ; in a crowded train headed towards your friend's art showcase, you and your boyfriend are caught in an awkward position.

pairing ; non-idol!nishimura riki x fem!reader genre ; fluff, established rs, literal forced proximity wc ; 1180 warnings ; kissing (a lil bit in public), lots of teasing, and mentions of height difference..

“I swear, if you make one more cup of coffee and insist you have to drink it before we go, I'll personally push you onto the train tracks.”

Nearly spitting out his beverage, Riki swallows abruptly and coughs. “Now, I would say I’m used to your violent tendencies, but that’s just gory. But I’d honestly like to see it.” His eyes shine with an unsettling excitement that has you blinking rapidly. 

“You won’t be alive to see it…” You tilt your head and feign confusion. In reality, this is both your way of flirty banter. Since Riki just loves to tease you, you believe it’s only fair that you should be allowed to tease back. However, your version of teasing is questionably rude at times, way worse than any fireball of quips Riki showers you with. 

“You wanna go or not?” Riki sighs, his mug making a clunking sound on the table when he puts it down. “I’m ready to just sit here and argue with you until night — I’m not the one desperate to see Sunoo’s art exhibition.” 

“No, I swear it’s not because I’m desperate to go. You’re the one who’s closer to him though?” You shake your head and frown in bewilderment. “Fake friend.” 

Riki whips around in his seat. “Pick me!”

”Bad boyfriend!” You erupt into laughter and lunge forward to ruffle his hair. 

Playing along, Riki gets up and pushes you gently away from him. But at the same time his fingers grab ahold of your wrist, holding you close, like he doesn’t really mean it. He’s casting the bait, eyes that look deeply and adoringly into yours glimmering with enthusiasm. 

“You’re taking it to heart. Don’t take it to heart,” he murmurs, and leans in to kiss you, voice dropping down to a low. “Pathological liar.” Before you have time to protest, he giggles, hugging you close as if daring you to spit out another one of your alleged, ‘lies’. 

When you both reach the station, its difficult to see through the sardine-packed crowd of people in front of you. “It… is so crowded,” you tiptoe to be able to whisper in Riki’s ear – and even that’s not enough, he has to lean down with a huff of amusement for you to reach. “Why is it so crowded today?” 

Shrugging his shoulders loosely, Riki slips his hand into yours, squeezing it tight. “You’re the one who wanted to go to this art show.” He mutters quietly. “Kim Sunoo’s, no less. You know we can just ask him to conduct a private show for us?” 

“Is supporting your friends a concept nonexistent to you?” You snap, feigning irritation but responding by rubbing your thumb over his. Your boyfriend pretends to be hurt by this, staggering backwards as much as he can in the crowd. His free hand clutching his chest, the playful atmosphere set by your banter fades when he looks at you. Wearing a gentle smile, he leads you into the train when the doors and gates slide open. 

He manages to secure you both a spot along the wall near the right-hand-side doors. You can tell by the guilt in his eyes that he wants to find you a seat too, but you’re probably going to get dirty looks from the elderlies if you do so. Luckily, he saves you the social torture and doesn’t force you to take a seat. 

The first few stops the train makes are still bearable. Riki is squashed a little too close for comfort at times, caging you in against the wall while you just stare ahead as if nothing’s happening. You ignore the tingles the situations send, all the way from your neurons down to your toes. However, when the crowd dissolves as they alight at their respective stations, you can breathe a sigh of relief. 

Like usual, Riki makes a snide remark about your morning breath (even though you’re quite certain your dental routine is competent), and returns to scroll on his phone. What disheartens you, though, is how genuinely uninterested he seems in Sunoo’s exhibit. And how bored he seems to be, despite being here with you. 

There’s a nonchalant faze across his face as he scrolls social media, leaning in close with a hand adjusting its grip on the grab bar next to you. You tilt your head, chest starting to ache. Does he really not care as much as you’d like to think he does? To not even feel an ounce of excitement in this moment? 

The train screeches to a halt as if agreeing with your intrusive thoughts. There’s still a long way to travel downtown to where the exhibit is held, and unfortunately for you, this is the most crowded station the train has stopped at by far. So many people pour into the carriage that it’s not even five seconds before Riki’s whole body is pressed up against yours. 

He drops the arm holding his phone down to his side. 

People are pushing you on both sides, and suddenly there’s a wave of gratefulness that you’re not stuck in the middle of the carriage. As if your current situation isn’t painful enough. Your boyfriend can’t meet your eyes, and it’s not surprising. With your noses mere inches apart (only because of the height difference), even you, usually assertive and confident, have to look into the distance. 

“Sorry…” Riki says in a hushed tone, moving his lips closer to your ear. His head has practically dropped down onto your shoulder, and you can feel yourself filled with vigorous tremors. He slips his phone into his back pocket, and the hand previously holding it snakes protectively around your waist. You blink up at him, expecting a warm look down, but all you’re met with is narrowed eyes carefully scanning the surroundings. 

His neck still dipped downwards, he hugs you close when the final few people slip into the train. Clearly feeling you shaking, he hums soothingly into your ear, “you’re safe”. “You have me.” “Don’t be too scared.” Anything else he says goes in one ear and goes out the other. 

Because. In such a situation, what would you expect your boyfriend to proceed to do? a), Accept fate and stay in position, b), shyly turn away from the deathly awkwardness, or c), giggle and tilt his head to pepper kisses along your neck? 

Riki chose C. 

He’s so gross, you think, but only when you’re stumbling out the train and running all the way to Sunoo’s exhibit to save yourself from remembering the situation more. Why did he ever do that? I should have shoved him away and called him a pervert and acted as if I didn’t know him. 

What a lie — when he was pressing a final kiss against your cheek your first thought wasn’t even remotely close to wanting to shove him away. Rather, you had pouted, arms wrapped around his neck, because he’s going to have to make up for being both indifferent towards you and making you so late. 

(It is never really his fault.)

thank you for reading! i'm so sorry for the lack of uploads recently, life has just gotten a little bit busier and i finally got a lil break so i decided to write this prompt i thought of a while back!

more of my works >

nrk ㅤㅤ ♡ ㅤboyfriend texts

❕️ femreader (smau, fluff) ㅤ─ ㅤriki as your boyfriend . . warnings suicide jokes word count n/a

note this is for lorie aka THE LOVE OF MY LIFE ! im the other woman i fear

✧ enhypen bf texts (5)

“she’s busy bro”

pairing: enha (minus riki) x reader

warnings: crack, fluff, lots of death jokes, threatening to kill (joke)

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."

the 52-hertz whale

Word count: 8.0k

Warnings: smut, trauma dumping

Summary: love is a choice, you suppose

Hajime Hinata never felt that he was neglected.

He grew up in a family; a family of three, specifically, and he never really felt the financial strain that other kids felt. He had the spare pocket change that most kids his age did, and he had parents. His family was one, perhaps. He doesn't think he has much to complain about when his parents weren't divorced. He had a relatively happy childhood, he thinks.

"Hinata," You fiddle with your fingers. "I know you're not the island's therapist... but I was wondering—"

Hinata welcomes your words that cut off his thoughts. He didn't want to overthink his family again. He has no reason to.

"Go ahead," He smiles. "Would you like to sit in the hospital?"

"Too scary," You pause. "Can we sit in one of our rooms instead?"

"Yours or mine?"

"I don't care," Your voice wavers. "I'm a bit overwhelmed, so maybe a walk instead? I need to sort it out; you can simply listen if you don't want to help."

"Of course," He smiles, following you as you start wandering. Hinata helps around the island with what he can, fixing pipes, lifting materials, even going as far as cooking on the days Teruteru goes a little insane. Hajime Hinata carries the weight of the entire island, so you don't like troubling him with things as simple as your thoughts. Yet, you find yourself staring at him more often, catching the way his brows furrow ever so slightly. He looks tired. Maybe he needed rest as much as you did. Hinata didn't have anyone to lean on without feeling guilty, so you suppose it's expected that the majority of the class acts first instead of him. It's nice to have other people help, even if they aren't aware of how much they are. Hinata takes off his shoes as he steps into the sand. Just yesterday, he was raking out the sharp objects from the sand. "So?"

"I was thinking," You pause. "Of my childhood."

"And?"

"I was a little overwhelmed, I suppose," You mumble. "I really have no reason to complain about it, you see."

Hinata stares at you, and you use a hand to push your hair back as the wind blows in your hair. You still, staring at the setting sun, heart heavy in your chest. Your lips form a pout, and Hinata reaches to ease the crease between your brows. You stare at him, biting your cheek as you do. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe, you should have just made up an excuse that didn't include trauma dumping on him. Maybe, you should've just—

"It's fine, you know?"

"I was thinking," You frown. "That I miss my best friend."

"Do you?"

"I also miss all the friends I cut off when I entered Hope's Peak," You mumble. "I cut them off because they were toxic for me, but I guess they thought I was stuck up and didn't feel I needed them anymore. They're all dead now, including my parents, yet I don't feel sad about it. Does that make me weird, Hinata?"

He shakes his head. "It depends on how you see it, but I'm sure there's a reason you aren't sad."

"Yes," You continue walking, eyes staring out at sea again. "But you see, I have no reason not to feel sad over the loss of my parents. I grew up with a loving mom and a dad that cheated but never was abusive. My mom made sure that I grew up educated, and my dad never backed out when I spent his card to the point of maxing out. I have no reason to hate them, yet I don't mourn for them at all. There's a bitterness, you see, but not sadness."

Hinata nods.

"But then again," You pause to stare at your stomach showing from the crop top. Reaching down to it, you squeeze the fat sticking out, and you chuckle. "I hated the skin that I sat in because of my mother."

In the distance, a seagull calls, and you step into the water, leaning down to pull the sand dollar out of the grains. Hinata steps next to you, staring at the fossil. Neither of you say a thing, and you grin. "That can go into my next story, granted I don't get sick of writing again."

Hinata turns to stare at you. "Did you hate your talent?"

"Yes," You hum, drying it off on your hip. "I despised the literature I created with my hands. I hated the worlds that were from my mind. I would stare at the documents and throw up all because I had overwritten during a period of time I should have been enjoying my life. I have nothing to complain about to my parents. It was my fault that I decided to go all in to get recruited, not because of them. I suppose I just wanted a way to save their marriage."

Hinata thinks that sounds familiar.

"I made it in," You pause. Hinata waits for the next line, but it never comes. Perhaps he had unconsciously hoped that your tale would play out differently from his. The child in his mind prayed that somehow, your tale would be better than his. Ah, he was having unrealistic thoughts again; Maybe he should have let the analyst talent stay with him; Maybe he hadn't matured that much. That wasn't good news.

In the distance, the wind blows against the trees, the ocean rising to your calf as you stare up at Hinata.

"And?"

"There is no and," You exhale, heart still heavy. "And then they divorced, and I never saw my dad ever again."

"Ah," Hinata mumbles. He presses a hand to your back, almost as if to try to comfort you. He should be better at this. Why isn't he better at this? "Are you..?"

"But that's not what matters," You drag Hinata out of the water. "What matters is that I feel nothing for my parents despite the lack of reason. My mom stayed with me throughout my years at Hope's Peak until the Tragedy. I have no reason to be so desensitized about them. The first person I killed when I became a remnant was my mom. Next was my dad, and then the rest is history." You stare at your hands, biting your bottom lip. "I found the answer."

"It is not the fact that you murdered them." Hinata pauses. "That much I can see."

"Is it not?" You grin at him. The breeze grows colder, and you glance at the palm trees. Five leaves. "I killed my parents with my bare hands, and then I recovered, but I never mourned. Did you see how devastated Teruteru was when he found out he killed his own mother? Sonia was mortified when she realized she destroyed her nation. The same holds for Akane and Nekomaru. I didn't feel anything when my memories were restored. I didn't even feel bad that I had killed my parents. I had been so insensitive when I brought it up that even Komaeda was worried."

Hinata holds his hand up for yours.

You give it to him.

He traces the lines in your palm, and he wonders if he should read them.

"Don't bother," You smile. "I've gotten it read before."

"Mm," He pauses. "Were you lonely?"

"Always," You mumble. "Were you? I remember you were an only child."

"Much more often than I like to admit." Hinata pauses. "What else?"

"Well," You mumble. "I remember my mom cursing about my dad when he wasn't home, and I remember my dad trying to explain to me that I'll understand when I'm older."

Hinata starts leading you back onto the road.

"He tried convincing me in the parking lot of a Home Depot that he had a reason to cheat." You mirror Hinata as he sits down on the bench. "I still don't get it."

"He had a reason, maybe," Hinata lets go of your hand. "But it was not justifiable."

"Yes," You grimace. "And part of growing up for me was the fact that I had to realize he did have a reason to cheat, but not one that could be justifiable. Instead of making a conscious effort to fix it, he just ran away from the problem. A relationship doesn't go a single way, so even when my mom was trying to fix the relationship, without my father cooperating, she was unable to fix it. Love is a choice, Hinata-kun."

Hinata stares at you. "Is that so?"

"I read that somewhere in high school," You brush the dried sand from your feet, pulling the sand dollar out of your pocket. "That is why arranged marriages last longer than willing ones. You can fall out of love for the same reason you can fall in love. The spontaniety of your lover can become recklessness in your eyes, and the smothering devotion they have for you can become suffocating. Love is a choice after you choose that person, perhaps. Is that desensitizing love?"

"No," Hinata slips his shoes on and bends down to brush the sand from your feet for you. "That is not, simply because if it was the case, then you would not see it in the people in love."

You smile as he slips your shoes on for you.

"If love were plainly emotion without choice, you would not see Sonia open her arms whenever she sees Gundham. Peko wouldn't have chosen to die instead of accidentally harm Fuyuhiko a second time. Kamukura wouldn't have chosen to place those flowers on Chiaki's desk. None of those choices would have been conscious if love were just an emotion." Hinata helps you up. "I would not be here listening to you after such a long day."

"I suppose," You grimace. "But you needed this just as much as I did."

He stares at you.

"You waited for me when I said I got in," You laugh dryly. "Did you think making it big would be able to save my parents' marriage? By getting into a fancy private school for the best of the best? If anything, it made it worse. My parents divorced three months into the semester on the day of thanksgiving. It was kind of funny."

"It shouldn't be."

"Yes," You grin. "But unlike your parents, mine split. I didn't feel hurt until I was sitting down and filling out paperwork for something, realizing that I don't have a father. That's when it kind of bites you, making you sit there and rethink your decisions. Then, Hinata, how about you?"

"Ah," Hinata stares at you, pausing. "I don't have much of a childhood to talk about."

"There has to be something," You tilt your head. "or else they would have no reason to sign your life away to a surgery."

"Well," He stares at you, unsure where to start. "It was fine, really, until I started to attend Hope's Peak."

You pat the empty bench. "Sit."

"Thank you," He pauses, face falling. "Then they just sort of... disappeared from my life."

"Is that so?" You lean forward to rest on your palm, staring at the trees ahead.

"They worked hard to be able to pay my tuition for the first year," Hinata chuckles. "And then... they couldn't afford a second year, but I wanted to attend a second year... so."

"You accepted the project," You exhale.

"Yes." He mumbles. "I don't remember much of the treatment other than the neurologist and psychologist. Kamukura's memories are blurry to me."

"Did it hurt?"

"They sedated me," He pauses. "Yeah."

You blink, lips pulled into a frown.

"Now you're frowning again."

"It's dehumanizing," You mumble. "A human made god was violated by its creators."

"My creators did nothing. Kamukura was used by the people he was made for."

"Youwere used by the people you trusted. That makes no difference." You stare at him. "It was still you who was used, and it was Kamukura who chose to sit there. He wasn't a human, unfortunately."

Hinata stares at you.

"But my parents loved me."

"So did mine." You pause. "Just because your parents loved you doesn't mean they couldn't harm you. Maybe their intention wasn't to hurt you, but surely they can still hurt people. A child isn't supposed to accommodate their parents when they are the younger one."

"I suppose, but—"

"There's no need to have a child to save a marriage. That's the weak way out. People who have children to fix their marriages are cowards. They focus all their attention on the child instead of the deteriorating relationship." You pause. "Distracting yourself from your own problems can only last for so long. But then again, human beings are complex, and I'm not Mi-chan, so it doesn't matter."

Hinata stares at you standing up, stepping out to the road, eyes closed. He pauses as you spread your arms out.

In the distance, the sound of the bedtime lullaby plays, and you spin along to Ibuki's music. It's calming, in a way. You're overcome with an unknown nostalgia each time the music plays, and you wonder if it used to be your lullaby. Your parents never sang or read you to sleep. You remember sprawling out on the bed with them, and you remember closing the lights at 12 when you were too tired to continue. You remember the low burn of your mom's desk light as she stayed up studying again, and you remember hating getting out of bed in the morning. You smell the oily sunny-side-up eggs as you stare at the moon, pretending you're still on that trampoline.

You still, realizing you've wandered too far from Hinata. He stands in the middle of the road, staring at you, hand out to reach you.

"Why are you standing there?"

"You look lonely."

"Well, get over here. You're calling and I'm receiving, right? There's no reason for you to be alone."

The moon stares in mild curiosity, wondering if she had seen this before. Perhaps she did. She dreamed of a sun that would touch her, yet she never questioned if the sun were lonely. The sun had no stars as the moon did, so perhaps he was. Well, not that it would worry over something as such. She stares down at the two of you, arms wrapped around each other. The warmth of the sun was enough to heal anyone, even the moon. So she supposed that you were being healed.

Hinata relishes in the coolness of your skin.

"Is that the only reason you called me out?"

"No," You let go of him as he does, and he takes a step back. "My real reason was to screw you over and force you to think over why you got here in the first place."

"I wanted to be an ultimate," He smiles amusedly.

"You? Or the inferiority complex your parents gave you?"

"Now you just sound like Mi-chan."

"That's what she does best," You shrug, starting back toward the rooms. "But she's right, you know? Was it you, or was it your parents? And then also... how can you heal it?"

"I have."

"But you do not process," You stare at the streetlight. "You built that with Souda's help. You water these roads when it gets dry here. You keep the pool together. You do everything around this island, Hinata-kun. You get no time to process things when you're so hyperfocused."

"Maybe."

"Also," You stretch your arms. "There's an unspoken pressure when you grow up alone."

"Maybe for you."

"For me!" You grin. "The unintended thought that my parents only have once chance to succeed plagues my mind daily, even with their death."

Hinata stops in front of your cottage. "Well?"

"Would you like to come in?" You blink up at him.

"Do you—"

"Yes. But it's up to you." You rock on your feet.

Hinata wants to, but the back of his mind tells him to rest.

"I'm going to go back," Hinata smiles.

"No worries!" You beam. "Rest well."

"Of course."

The moon makes way for the sun in the morning, and you blink lifelessly at the sun when you wake up. You feel like shit. Taking a walk at 8pm in the evening and walking in the cold ass ocean was not a smart choice. Maybe a warm shower will fix it? Who knows. You sit in the bath for a good moment, questioning your sanity. You'll stay in today.

It's half past three when Mikan comes in from a call. Hinata had created this weird communication device, and you were tired. Mikan would be quickest, her number being the only single-digit number. She checks your temperature and vitals, sighing when it's nothing more than a fever. It reminds you of when you were younger. You can't recall the last time you broke down with a fever. You thought you were taking care of yourself well.

"Um," Mikan helps you sit up, handing you the pills with water. "I also have liquid if you want..."

"It's fine," You mumble, taking the pills from her hand. They feel scratchy against your throat, and you cough once the water washes them down. "I just need to sleep it off, right?"

"Yes," She mumbles. "I'm so sorry!"

"No," You stare up. "That's on me for catching a fever again. Thank you."

"O-of course," She keeps the door unlocked as she leaves, and you fall back asleep. You're uncomfortable. Your whole body is freezing, yet you have two blankets on top of you. At times like this, you can't help but miss your mom. At least she had everything on hand and could tell when you were about to get sick. You don't remember the last time she had panicked over you, but you always remember the soup she made. Ugh, now you want some.

Sometime before the sun sets completely, the door opens again. You whimper at the breeze and pull the covers over you. The person walks around the room, opening the window, taking the finished soup from the bedside drawer, and turning on the water. You stay in a zone between consciousness and unconsciousness, and you whimper as they finally pull the covers off.

"Come on," You wrap your arms around their neck as you're lifted off the bed.

"I'm going to get you sick..."

"Doesn't matter."

"Wait," You squint at the figure and pause at the sight of Hinata. "I can bathe myself."

"I'm not going to violate you, if that's what you wanted to ask. I need to cool your skin down, and we don't have enough alcohol to wipe you down."

"My mom used to do that," You slur as he sits you in the tub. "She used to wipe be own with alcohol pads when I got sick."

Hinata turns the showerhead on, and you droop as he has the water run down your back.

Your eyes flutter from the warmth, and Hinata catches your head before you pass out.

"Sorry."

"I'll wash you, so don't worry about it."

You don't know how long you sit in the tub, but when your eyes open again, Hinata's sitting next to your bed, screwing at another piece of machinery. You turn your head to stare at him.

"Stop doing that."

"No."

"Stop tinkering with the old DS." You mumble. "You're not going to be able to load Chiaki on that."

"It's not to load her."

"It won't connect to internet."

"It will."

"You're like a child," You shift to stare back up at the ceiling.

"In a way, aren't you the same?"

"Yeah," You mumble. "The world hates children."

"Only those who don't understand the value." Hinata places the screwdriver down. "Chiaki was the one who called for Mikan."

"Thank you," You mumble into the air to no one in particular.

Your eyes flutter shut again.

When you wake up next, Hinata is eating dinner.

"I have your soup," He sets his bowl down on the drawer and helps you sit up.

"I'm not weak to that point." You mumble, but you don't fight him.

"I know," Hinata grabs your bowl, blowing on the spoon to cool the soup. "But it's what you need."

"What I want," You open your mouth and swallow as Hinata helps you drink. "Not what I need."

"What you need." Hinata mumbles. "Just like you had sat in my room until I woke up after the incidents."

"Which one?" You laugh dryly. "The one when the big TV fell on your head? The one where you almost cracked your head open and scared the shit out of everyone? The one where—"

"All of them," Hinata presses the spoon to your lips again. "Every single one of them, you took care of me like this."

"I know," You swallow. "Let me drink it myself."

"I'll hold the bowl," Hinata hands you the spoon, and you drink. Hinata's eyes stay fixated on your throat as you swallow. You're embarrassed. You're an adult now, for life's sake. You're supposed to take care of yourself when you're sick, not have someone else take care of you.

"What are we?"

Hinata stares at you.

"Unlabeled."

"Well no shit," You choke on the last syllable, and Hinata pats your back. "I'm asking for a reason."

"I don't know what we are," He stares at you. "You didn't give me a label either."

"Well," You pause. "vent buddies? No. We're not that. You're nothing like my other friend. I didn't want to fuck that friend."

"You want tofuckme?"

"Huh, I guess I've never told you," You stare into his soul. "Some days I think of you folding me in half over a restaurant table."

Hinata sputters at your straightforwardness as you lie back down in the bed.

"So what are we?"

"Mutual pining. That's the term, right?"

"You think about fucking me?"

"No." Hinata pauses. "Well, yes, but not the same way you do—"

"You want to get pegged?"

"Can you let me finish?" Hinata sighs. You bat your lashes at him, and he presses a hand to your forehead to check your temperature. "I don't, but there's a reason I'm always the one taking care of things in your room when it could be Souda fixing it."

"Ah," You stare at him, eyes wide. "You like me too."

"Sure." Hinata mumbles. "Now, go back to sleep. Your fever is reducing."

"That's good," You smile. "Does that mean we're dating?"

You don't hear Hinata's answer when you drift off.

Hinata stares at your resting form, and he glances at the clock on the wall. He could stay up the entire night, but you'd probably scold him for that. Well, not that it mattered. You'd be good to go in the morning. He has to go back to fixing the broken speaker in Komaeda's room that he left alone to sit with you. You seem drunk when sick. He finds that cute, he supposes.

The night passes as Hinata falls asleep in the chair, and you wake up to the male's head slipping. You slide a pillow between his neck and head and toss a blanket over him, heading off to shower. You feel better. You still feel like shit, but better. You'd have to thank him later. Hinata worked tirelessly around the island. He at least deserved someone who could take care of him.

You wonder, though, if he just wasn't hearing the call.

When you step out, Hinata's awake, staring at you owlishly.

"You know, it's a miracle you can control how aroused you get," You brush past him to change into actual clothes. Hinata takes the towel from you as he glances at your bare skin.

"I can't," He exhales. "I'm about to shower after you."

You cough, embarrassed. "You're gonna shower without me?"

"We can shower together next time," He ruffles your hair as he steps into the bathroom.

The sun's in the sky when you step out of the hut with Hinata. You stare up, holding a hand up to block the sun.

"A tropical storm is approaching in four days."

"You can smell it?"

Hinata pauses. "Well, kind of. It's also just from the storm patterns in the area."

"When's our next batch of supplies coming in?"

"This week," Hinata checks his phone, and you pause.

"We are..."

"We're dating," Hinata smiles. "We're dating now."

"Okay!" You yell, throwing fists into the air. "We're dating!"

"We're dating." Hinata imitates your fists.

You beam at him. "We're dating."

There's something strange about living with others. You don't remember the last time it felt like you lived with someone other than yourself, and you struggle to remember there are two people in the hut now. You stare at Hinata each morning, your stomach churning at the sight of him all vulnerable next to you. You could kill him if you wanted to. You could press a blade to his neck and wreak havoc on the island like a proper writer. You could learn so much just from a single person.

But your stomach churns for another reason.

You don't deserve Hinata.

You sit in bed each morning, staring at Hinata, counting the freckles on his face as the sun rises from the east, heart heavy, wondering when Hinata's going to realize you're a bad person. You sit there counting the acne on his back, counting the number of times you've messed up around him. You love Hinata like the moon loves the sun, but you could never have him for yourself. It feels heartbreaking to know that you didn't deserve someone like him. You were nothing compared to the ultimate hope. You wrote stories for a living, overthinking like it was your job. You think of every possibility, never leaving one behind. The only difference was you wrote them into stories.

"Good morning." You smile as Hinata smiles at you.

"Good morning." He presses a kiss to your hand. "Ready to start the day?"

"Yeah."

It cycles, you think. You wake up earlier than Hinata, stare out the window, cycle through those vicious thoughts, and then forget about everything when Hinata presses a morning kiss to your skin. Some days, you lie awake in bed, heart heavy with melancholy. You miss your friends. You miss the people who did everything in their power to make sure you were alright and safe. Maybe you shouldn't have cut them off when you needed to work on yourself.

"You're thinking again," Hinata hands you a coffee from the vending machine. "What's up?"

"Coffee at 9?"

"It's hot chocolate."

"I hope it tastes like the ones from Starbucks," You mumble, pressing the metal to your lips.

"You're thinking again." Hinata sits next to you on the bench.

"Missing my old friends," You open your mouth, only closing it when you realize you don't have the right words. "I miss a handful of them."

"I'm sure you do." Hinata smiles. "That's normal."

"Maybe," You pause. "But I don't miss any of them. I miss every single toxic friend in my life that I've ever made. I miss the people that cut me out too."

"Did you do something wrong?"

"Plenty of things," You laugh bitterly. "So many things."

Hinata stares at you. "Did you ever apologize?"

"No." You exhale, sinking into the bench. "I never had the humility to do it."

Hinata opens his mouth to speak. "Well—"

"Aren't I such a bad person?" You smile at him. "I bullied people as a child, never apologized to them, killed my parents, and cut so many innocent people out of my life. I left my friends, tricked everyone into thinking I'm a good person, and now I even tricked you into dating me. I truly am incredible. I'm such... a bad... person..."

Hinata takes your hand into his, drawing gentle circles. "Do you think I'm unable to tell good from bad?"

"No," You grimace. "I just... not worth it."

Hinata draws little shapes on your palm, smiling affectionately at your hand as he does. "I once read that love is a choice."

He's using your words against you.

"You choose the people you stay with, even if it isn't in a romantic relationship." Hinata taps your palm twice. "That is what love is. Choices."

Behind you, the waves crash against the rocks, and Hinata continues.

"It was a choice to love you, and it was a choice to stay with you even after hearing everything you've told me. I am in love with you as much as someone can be in love with someone." Hinata presses your fingers to his lips. "You like this, right?"

Your eyes are still distant.

"Do I have to fuck you to convince you that you're worthy?"

You shake your head. "There's no need for that. You couldn't possibly think of—"

Hinata bites your fingers with his canines, staring you in the eye as he does.

"That's weirdly out of character."

"Aaaand there goes the tension." Hinata takes your fingers out, laughing along with you.

"You don't need to fuck me," You stand up, stretching your arms. "for me to feel loved."

"You want it, though."

"Sure." You stare at the speakers. "Maybe another day."

"Maybe during the storm?"

"Yeah," You turn to stare at him. "Definitely during the storm. By that time, I'll be able to scream all I want!! I'll get to cry abt howgoodyour dick is, and how you're the only one who can split me in—"

"That's enough," Hinata covers your mouth with his hand, ears burning. "I'll keep that in mind when you actually get fucked."

"Hoaw bigh arhe you," You speak against his palm, and he stares at you.

"You'll find out eventually."

Hinata walks you home, slowly, maybe. The two of you share a home now. Your home is as much of a home to him as it's a home to you. You still wonder if you tricked him into falling for you. You're not someone particularly special, still. Your talent is useless on this island, even if you knew a million things in theory. What use are you if you like putting things off? God, it's just like when your mom made you retake your exams so you'd get a better score, but you only ended up scoring the same.

"Talk it out."

"It's just a fleeting thought." You pause in place. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"I still want to hear it," Hinata pauses with you.

"I was thinking about. I was thinking about my last year at Hope's Peak."

"Mhm?"

"And how my inner child was never satisfied." You pause. "Even though she was spoiled with whatever she wanted. She lacked love."

"Did she?"

"So she was stuck staring at herself in the mirror, asking if she was the problem. She's not, I don't think so, but I understand why she would think that." You pause. "I was lazy for refusing to take the AP tests that would send me to the United States during college. I don't regret it, but I suppose I would've liked an apology from my mom."

Hinata frowns when you exhale.

"But the past is the past, and they aren't things worth mulling over."

"But they are things that you need to process."

"The only thing I can figure out right now is that I'm almosthappymy mom died."

Hinata chuckles. "That's not good."

"definitely! but I... my mom never really felt like my mom after I moved the first time. You watch your family fall apart, and you wonder if maybe you were the reason."

"Yeah," He pauses. "I wondered that too. But that's not the case."

"Definitely!" You clasp your hands together. "But that's only myfamilytrauma. I have plenty of tangled emotions when it comes to friends as well."

"Wanna talk?"

"I want sleep." You start back up, pulling Hinata along. "You better fuck me until I'm braindead when the storm hits."

"Why so?"

"So I can forget about my first love instead of processing it."

Hinata chuckles as you pull him along. "Will do."

When the sun sets to make way for the moon, your mind goes back to the past, wandering, thinking, praying, crying for some way to be able to change something. You wanted to cut people out earlier. You wanted to kill yourself. You wanted to do so many things, yet you never did a single one. Maybe everything could have been avoided if you had just stabbed yourself in the neck like you wanted to.

On other days, you brace yourself for when Hinata's going to break up with you. It should be exhausting to date you, you think.

When the storm hits, you ignore all warnings and step out into the rain, soaking from head to toe. You stare at the clouds above, heart strangely calm. Hinata would beat you if he were with you, you think. Well, maybe not beat. He'd definitely be worried. You're tired of a lot of things. You miss no one and nothing, and you no longer have a purpose in life. Maybe your next goal would be to get married and settle down, but you couldn't possibly fathom getting married. It was another thing, perhaps.

"There you are," Hinata holds the umbrella over the two of you, and you stare at him.

"I'd like to stay in the rain."

"I'll stay with you, then," He stands to the side as you run down the cement, and he follows behind as you throw your shoes off to feel the sand between your toes. He holds them in his free hand as you spin and sprint through the sand. It feels strange to him, but you have your reasons. You're soaked from head to toe, laughter louder than anything he's heard before, and he wonders if this was just another part of you.

"It's like washing away all your worries."

"The rain?"

"Yes."

Hinata stares at you fondly under the slams of the water from the sky, and he wonders if this could wash you off incredibly quickly. Maybe you'd feel better after the rain. Well, the two of you would have to shower. The rain was cleaner, sure, but it still wasn't clean. The acid spills from the tragedy are still hard to clean up, and sure, the earth is damaged beyond repair, but it's liveable. Hinata's seen more than enough plants sprout to know that earth is still inhabitable. But that was just humankind, he supposes: finding a way to live even on the brink of destruction.

You lie down in the sand, and Hinata steps close to you, staring down at you.

"Feel better?"

"Yes," You smile.

"Let's get back before the storm gets even worse."

"Will it?"

"Yes," Hinata holds the umbrella over your head, handing you the shoes. "We need to be inside at that point. I scheduled an announcement."

"Alright," You stand up, slipping your feet into the sandals, "Can we fuck?"

"After you shower."

"Can we fuck in the shower?"

Hinata sighs, dragging you along. "Let's warm you up first before you think about fucking."

"Alright," You hold onto his upper arm as he holds the umbrella, and the two of you go home.

☾﹠☽

"I wonder how you don't get hard," You close your eyes as Hinata's nails dig into your scalp to clean. "Do you not think I'm hot?"

"If you had to sit through how many times I get hard from you in a day, I think you'd think differently." Hinata feels the showerhead for temperature before he runs the water down your head.

"Really?"

"Yeah," He holds a hand to avert the bubbles from your eyes. "Right?"

You jolt as Hinata presses your back to his chest, and your eyes widen at the feeling.

"You're hard!"

"Yeah," He hums, changing the showerhead setting. Once the bubbles are out of the way, he holds you close to him by the thigh, pressing the showerhead at your clit, causing you to squeak.

"A-ah," You sputter. "What's— huh? It feels—"

Hinata chuckles lowly next to your ear, your legs twitching from the pressure. You wonder if Hinata is doing this to get back at you.

"You," You gasp. "Asshole!"

"You wanted this."

Your nails dig into his wrist as he leans closer, hooking an arm under your knee to hold you up as your legs give out. His other hand holds the showerhead to your clit, forcing the water pressure to hit you. The coil in your stomach tightens as your head is thrown back onto Hinata's shoulder as you feel something coming. Your voice wavers as he bites into your collar, and your nails leave marks as your orgasm crashes down on you.

Hinata lowers the pressure of the water, and he presses a gentle kiss to the bite mark before putting the showerhead back up. You lean against his frame, and he lowers your leg slowly.

"I hate you," You whimper, legs shaking.

"Stay still. I still need to condition your hair."

You reach behind you to smack him as he does, and Hinata purses his lips in amusement once you retract your hand.

"Close your mouth," He hums. "You're going to get the conditioner in your hair."

"You're as hard as a rock!"

"Which part?" You can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Your chest," You rub your knuckles as Hinata finishes with your hair. "I keep forgetting you're built like a boulder."

Hinata chuckles.

"Sit down," You turn around, forcing Hinata to his knees.

"Gonna sit on me?" You stare at him, forcing him on his ass, straddling him.

"Maybe later." You reach for the shampoo, nails digging into Hinata's scalp. "Is it too rough?"

"No." Hinata's eyes are closed as you continue. "You know, I miss life before Hope's Peak sometimes."

"Mhm," You hum, reaching for the showerhead.

"My middle school years were nice. My parents got along back then." He tilts his head back as you press the showerhead to his hair. "Though, I still felt like I wasn't enough since my parents were both ultimates."

"What were they?"

"A ballroom dancer..." Hinata opens his eyes to look at you. "and a theologist."

"Awful pairing," You pause. "Though I can see how they would work."

"They didn't work. They were both hot after surgery, and then they gave birth to me."

"You're hot, though?"

"Maybe to you." Hinata chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist. "But remember, I was just some guy before I was operated on."

"Still hot, though," You mumble, squirming as Hinata rests his hands on your waist. "It's not like they changed your bone structure or your face. Unless they did, and I didn't know."

"If they did that then they'd have to rewrite all the plans," Hinata reaches behind him to turn the water on.

You kneel up, hand reaching for his cock, pressing the tip to your pussy.

"You want to go raw?"

"They sent us plan b this time around," You blink at him for confirmation.

"Not yet," Hinata moves you onto your back, closing the water behind him. He runs his thumb down your labia, sliding a finger in slowly. Your breath hitches as he does, and Hinata presses a gentle kiss to your clit. You shudder at the feeling, and Hinata glances at you. "This is alright, right?"

"Yeah," You mumble. "Embarassed, but fine."

"Good," Hinata slides a second finger in, pressing on your walls. You squirm and pulse around him, and Hinata spreads your labia with his fingers, pressing his tongue plat against you. His fingers curl inside you as you pull on his hair, and he finds a pattern that gets you arching your back. Your mind hazes as he does, and you whimper, mouth open. Your heel digs into his back as you cum, and Hinata pulls his fingers out slowly, staring at the way your cum connects his fingers to you. His dick twitches at the sight. "How lewd."

You smack him playfully, face warm with embarrassment.

"Now," Hinata mumbles. "You should be wet enough."

He sits back as he pulls you to him. You get on your knees again, and you sink down slowly. Hinata presses his fingers into your waist, biting his bottom lip as you lower yourself. You choke once you take all of him in."Ah, fuck, you're big.Gimme a minute,ahto adjust, please."

Hinata rubs gentle circles on your waist as you squirm. He's thick.

You're glad he got you wet beforehand, but you wonder if you'd actually get split in half from his cock. You pulse around Hinata from the thought. "Mhm." You exhale finally. "You're big."

"Am I?"

"Very," You wrap your arms around his neck. "You're really hot too."

"Well," Hinata reaches behind him to turn off the water, and you squeal as he lifts you. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctually, and he sighs. "If you really say so." He adjusts your arms over his shoulders and holds a hand under your ass to support you.

"Are we going to bed?"

"I'm going to fuck you stupid," He leans in next to your ear. "And you're going to be screaming louder than the storm outside, and everyone's going to hear how much of a whore you are for me." You clench around him, and Hinata hums. "You like it."

"Mhm," You're practically drooling at this point. His eyes follows yours to where the two of you are connected, and a smirk graces his face.

"What do you want me to do, sweetheart?"

You stare up at him, eyes wide. "You can't be serious."

"Hm?"

"Hinata, please."

He stares down at you. "Nothing? I can pull out right no—"

"No!" You tighten your arms around his shoulder. "I want... I want you to fuck me."

"Come on, use your words."

"I want you to fuck me stupid," You stare at him, desperate. "Rail me so good and pump me so full that the plan b won't even work. Please, please,please."

"There you go," He smiles. "Good job, precious."

You gasp as he pulls out and thrusts back in, and you shake as he finally places you in bed.

His thumbs dig into your hips as he holds your legs over his shoulders, folding you into the bed. You gasp as he forces himself deeper into you, and you grab at the sheets, knuckles turning white as he starts thrusting. Your lips part, words turning into incomprehensible noises. His cock's making it hard to think. Your mind blurs as you lay there, and your gasps turn sharp as you feel your stomach tightening again. There's no way he was making you cum this fast.

"S-slow down," You gasp, nails digging into the sheets. "'s, 's too much!"

"You can take it, right? I know you can, sweetheart." Hinata mumbles into your ear, and he hisses as you cum around him. He presses a kiss to your jaw, mumbling sweetly into your ear, "You're so good for me, right? Look at you, listening so well for me. I think you deserve a little reward, hm?"

You move your arms to warp around his neck, and Hinata smiles.

"You're so pretty," You mumble, whimpering as Hinata slides out slightly.

"Am I?"

"Gorgeous," You gasp as Hinata bounces you on his cock again, and you grimace from how sensitive you are. Your mind blanks, and you barely register what you're saying, even if Hinata understood. "Pretty, so pretty... you're so dazzling... hic, Hajime! hot... perfect! I,mm, don't think I could,hah, live with—out you!"

Hinata chuckles, smiling gently.

"Is that so?"

"MhM!" Your head digs into the crook of his neck, and you bite. "My pretty Haji."

Hinata hisses from the feeling of your teeth, and his thrusting grows erratic as he gets closer. "You're pretty too, precious. You're so good for me, you know? You're always there in the morning when I wake up, and you're always waiting for me to open up. God, you're gorgeous, you know?"

You whine as you clench around him harder.

"Only you, darling." Hinata digs his fingers into your waist as you cum, sending Hinata over the edge as well. His hips dig into yours, and he bites into your neck, you whimper into his neck, and Hinata sets you into the bed gently, almost as if handling a newborn.

Your eyes droop as Hinata leaves to grab the towel to wipe you down.

"Do you have energy to shower?"

"After four orgasms?" You stare at him.

"I'll carry you back. You're going to feel disgusting in the morning."

"Alright," You yawn, leaning on Hinata as he hooks his arms under your back and knees. "Can I suck your tits next time?"

Hinata chokes. "Really?"

"Really." You mumble. "Sorry for making you shower twice."

"Don't be," He smiles. "I wouldn't have gone along if I didn't want to."

"Mmk," You close your eyes. "You know, Hinata, I think I know what you are now."

"You didn't know what I was?"

"You're average," You grin, reaching up at him once he sets you in the water. "You're the most painfully average guy I know."

"Still?"

"No, you're average in the perfect way. In the end, perfect still suffers, so I suppose you're just as average as some superhuman can get," You lean on his chest as he rubs the bubbles down your back. "I wonder how we're dating."

"Because you're beautifully average in your own way," Hinata hums, the vibrations traveling down your skin. "You're just any other student on this island, and your background is what sent you here with the rest of us, right?"

"I suppose," You smile.

A silence covers the two of you as Hinata finishes washing you, and you sit back as you watch him scrub himself. You feel safe in this small hut. You missed the feeling of warmth spreading through your chest. Hinata was your home now. Just as he had chosen to stay when you were sick, you had chosen to stay with him. Hajime Hinata loved you vivaciously. His hands were warm on your skin, and his hands were warm holding onto yours. Hajime Hinata was the embodiment of the sun as you had adored him to pieces as the moon. Maybe he had heard you call. Perhaps the way he stood in front of you was proof of it.

You stretch your arms out as Hinata helps you into a robe, and you yawn. "Hinata, have you ever seen a whale?"

"In person?" He helps you close the robe.

"Yea." You hum.

"No," Hinata ties the belt around your waist and ties his own. "Do you want me to carry you?"

"No," You follow him as he leaves the bathroom, and he helps you into the bed. Pulling the covers over you, he pulls the string to turn the master light off. Sliding into bed next to you, he closes the lamp. You stare at the way his pecs peek from behind his robe. Next time.

"You know," You blink, realizing your exhaustion. "I once read about a whale who kept calling but never got an answer."

Hinata rolls on his side, tracing mindless circles on your skin. "The 52 hertz whale?"

"Yea," You hum. "It got a friend recently according to marine biologists."

"Really?"

"Another whale called back," You smile, rolling onto your side to smile at Hinata.

Hinata wraps his arms around you, eyes closing as he breathes in your skin. You're cool against his skin, and he welcomes the feeling.

"Thank you for responding," You mumble, eyes closing.

"Thank you for calling." He smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your eye. "Good night, love. I'll see you in the morning."

"Sweet dreams, pretty boy." You lean into his chest. "Love you."

"Love you too."

𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖…

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 2.5k | content: fluff, pining, mentions of fake dating, jealousy, reader is kind of an idiot, sae loves to tease, best friend otoya, cussing

notes: hello hello i’m on board the sae love train once more , are you guys still with me ^_^

summary: what do you do when your best friend kind of sort of forces you to confess your two-year long crush when you’re not ready to? pray and hope for the best.

“i could just tell him for you.”

“eita, fuck no,” you throw him a warning glare as you chop the vegetables up with scary precision despite not having an eye on them. only because you know if you don’t explicitly tell him not to, that he’d think it’s no big deal and do it anyway.

and let’s say, you’d rather die than let that happen.

sure, you and sae had been closer back in high school; he sat behind you and entertained the secret notes you passed to him, he used to ruffle the top of your head whenever you pouted, he used to buy food for you during breaks.

but that’s all in the past and somehow, the both of you had drifted since then.

otoya deadpans, an unamused pair of eyes looking back at you from their spot across the island. “it’s been what, four fucking years since you graduated? grow a pair,” he retorts, attempting to steal a carrot but getting a slap on the back of his hand instead.

“bold of you to say that to a girl with a knife,” you snap at him, pointing the blade at his face.

to which he merely rolls his eyes, using two fingers to push it aside. “not like you’re that good at using it.” but he sighs when you silently turn your attention back to chopping vegetables. “does that mean i have to put up with your miserable face even longer?”

you and otoya continue to bicker, and you’re beginning to wonder how you’ve tolerated being best friends with him for the past four years. he’s a real piece of work.

“fine, fine,” otoya grumbles after you’re done with lunch, bangs over his eyes. “i promise i won’t tell sae anything, okay?”

that’s after you threatened not to let him hijack your house anymore for food. for someone who’s earning big bucks being a famous soccer player, you can’t make sense of why he won’t just get food delivered. maybe he just likes to annoy you.

“good. or else i’ll kill you.”

your crush on itoshi sae has been somewhat dormant for the past few years. and by dormant you mean that you haven’t tried making any moves because you’re too scared.

itoshi sae. one of the most famous international breakout stars in soccer. one of the most talented playmakers the world has ever seen. that comes with its own sets of pros and cons.

pros? he definitely doesn’t seem like he has much trouble doing anything he wants. he gets paid for every game. he gets paid for gigs. he gets sponsorships all over the place. which basically means that financially, he doesn’t need to give a shit.

cons? the media can be brutal. sae does something that’s remotely questionable and they’re all over it. he doesn’t thank a waiter that one time? automatically labeled as a rude brat by the paparazzi. and not to mention—the amount of girls he’s forced to fake date just for the sake of publicity.

you’re mostly pressed on that last part though, because they’re all supermodels or olympic stars or rich socialites. and compared to them, well, you’re just someone who happens to be in the same friend group and hang out together every once in a while when he’s back in japan. sae doesn’t even hang out much with the group, to your dismay.

it’s a pain, or so he says.

you wonder how you drifted in the first place. maybe it’s just the fame. you wonder if he thinks of you too sometimes.

must be your wishful thinking.

kind of makes you wonder whether he does have a secret girlfriend that he’s keeping from everyone. you wouldn’t really put it past him. it’s not like he has any super deep emotional bonds with any of you (that you know of). eita says he’s definitely single, but you think he’s just saying that to appease you. he already has his hands full having to watch you mope whenever you see news of sae and another girl and yet another dating rumor.

just as well. you think sae could do better than you, spending your friday nights at home, washing dishes at the sink and looking out at the tokyo skyline instead of out partying and living life with countless friends.

you don’t think you’re too shabby though. you’re a fresh graduate with a job at one of the most prestigious companies in tokyo you can think of. it’s not bad. but you can’t help but feel it’s worlds away from the one sae lives in.

the doorbell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts, nearly dropping the white marble plate you’re washing. your eyes snap to the clock in the living room. it’s almost 9pm—right about the time when eita usually comes knocking and asking you for supper.

groaning, you wash whatever’s left of the dish soap away from your hands and sloppily dry them against the bottom of your shirt, grumbling out loud about how you really should stop coming here whenever the fuck you want, eita while you stomp over to the front door.

you open the door, messy hair and bare face and baggy clothes, fully expecting to smack some sense into otoya eita when you feel yourself freeze up at the pair of eyes looking back at you.

they’re teal and framed by pretty long lashes and definitely don’t belong to your best friend.

what the fuck is he doing here?

this is one of the rare times that you’d actually prefer to see eita at your front door instead.

sae raises a brow, giving you a once-over. of course, he’s never seen you in this state—hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled, not a trace of makeup on your face. you’d made sure that whenever there was a possibility that sae would see you that you dressed yourself up as nice as possible. if you’d known he was coming over, you’d have at least dressed decently. definitely not baggy shirt and pants that you can barely see.

“uh… w-what are you doing here?” stupid, but the best you can manage.

he has his hands in his gray sweat pockets, and fuck him for wearing a black compression top. you can just make out the outline of his abs under there, the muscles on his arms already much too obvious with those short sleeves.

“dunno, eita said there was an emergency and i needed to get here,” sae says, wholly unbothered, monotonous as usual. he lets himself in, toeing his shoes off at the entryway, positioning them neatly beside your everyday sneakers.

fucking eita.

judging by what you know, sae was probably on his way for an evening jog when otoya called him. he still has his wireless earbuds in. you wonder if anything’s even playing.

sae takes it off once he catches you staring.

he’s not carrying anything. it’s just him. you wonder if anyone managed to catch him coming over. is his most recent pr stunt already over? won’t do either of you any good if he’s labeled as a cheater.

“so? what is it?” sae asks you, again, while he walks himself inside, curious eyes looking around your apartment, and suddenly you’re hyper aware. you hope to god you didn’t leave any of your inner wear lying around at random places.

in a panic, you rush over to him, blocking his path inside, both hands on his chest as you attempt to push him back to the front door. unfortunately for you, sae’s much stronger than you are, his body not budging an inch.

“it’s nothing, he made a mistake,” you sigh, giving up when you figure that sae’s only going to move of his own accord. “he’s probably just playing a prank on you, that’s all.”

you’re hoping, praying, wishing that sae will just take your word for it and go. because that’s what he does; he doesn’t hover much, doesn’t care about anything much at all. you don’t even know the last time he’s asked about how any of your lives are doing.

the world must hate you though, because sae only offers a grunt in response before looking towards your kitchen (you’re internally sighing in relief, glad that you cleaned your kitchen up before this). “i’m thirsty, you have anything to drink?”

you blink at him, stumped that sae is wasting his precious time in your apartment, but who are you to say no to sae, of all people?

“yeah, sure, juice?”

sae shrugs, “whatever.”

you turn your back on him, slowly taking your carton of apple juice and finding the nicest glass that exists in your cupboard, cursing yourself internally for not preparing for unexpected guests enough. you do this slowly partly because you’re trying to calm your stupid heart down, still not fathoming why on earth sae’s wasting his time with you.

carefully, you rehearse yourself in your head, where you’re going to step, how you’re going to walk over to him—you really are just hopeless. count it your bad luck that the moment you turn around, you nearly drop the glass because you’re forgetting a really fundamental issue here: your merch.

“no no no, uh—” you leave the glass on the countertop, scurrying over to where sae’s staring and thumbing at something on your coffee table.

sae looks at your flustered reaction, giving you way to grab your things off the table and stuff them in the drawer where they’re out of sight. he blinks at you, a slight amusement bubbling inside him.

“wow, big fan, huh?”

you don’t know what’s worse: you being your most unpresentable self right now or that sae just caught you having some of his merch.

“so you have some of eita’s merch lying around too or is it just mine?”

you could die of embarrassment right now.

back still turned to sae, you desperately search your brain for answers. thinking on the spot doesn’t seem like your strong suit right now.

“it… was a gift.” believable, right?

sae hums, as though he’s contemplating. “why just mine then? why not oliver’s or my brother’s?”

fuck.

“i don’t know, maybe yours was the only one that wasn’t sold out.”

“ouch.”

you didn’t mean to indirectly insult him but what’s a drowning girl to do?

sae sighs when you keep quiet, still staying out where you are, trembling too much to move. “didn’t know you were in love with me.”

this time, you whip your head around to face him—that same stoic expression of his unchanging on his face. “am not!”

his brows shoot up. “but you bought some of my merch.”

“i told you, it was a gift.”

you need to get paid for still standing up on your own two feet right now. your head’s way too giddy from the interaction, considering.

“even that figurine over there?” sae’s finger points to a small toy just barely visible behind the nooks of the bookshelf. it’s a small figurine; something sold a few years back when sae was just first starting out. you’d bought it because, well, you’d thought chibi sae looked cuter than actual sae. (especially now when he’s just staring blankly at you.)

“that was…”

“a gift?”

you think he’s making fun of you now at this point.

“anyway, we’ve established that there’s no emergency here so why don’t you just go?” you’re pretty sure sae won’t ever talk to you again—not after coming across what he did tonight. he probably thinks you’re a freak, probably questions why he even considers you his friend (to which you’re now wondering if that’s even true at all).

you make a mental reminder to yourself to kill otoya eita tomorrow.

sae lets you push him towards the entryway, apple juice long forgotten on the countertop, collecting condensation with water pooling below the glass.

“you must like me a lot, huh?” he ponders out loud as you continue pushing him towards the door. you see a hint of cockiness in his stare now, the slightest tug of a smirk on the corner of his lips.

“i do n—”

“be careful what you say,” sae cuts you off, toeing his shoes back on, looking glamorous as ever and you nearly forget that he looks straight out of a magazine even in his sportswear. “‘cause i’ll believe you.”

part of you wants him to just go already so your knees can buckle under, but part of you wants to ask him what he means. what’s he insinuating? isn’t the answer clear enough.

but now it’s way past nine and he’s all ready to go yet he’s still standing at your doorway, waiting for your answer. you want to scream no, you want to keep your secret safe, you don’t want him to know about the crush you’d been harbouring. but he told you to be careful what you say because he’ll believe you.

“s-so what if i do?” you stutter, failing to look him in the eyes, your stare focused on the air in between you.

sae’s features soften ever so slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to give in so quickly, but it isn’t one of disgust. it’s more like one of pleasant surprise.

after what seems like an eternity, sae finally opens his mouth.

“you must’ve gotten jealous a lot with all those girls i’d gone out with.”

your fist instinctively connect with his arm, his stoic finally giving way to a grimace, palm rubbing his triceps in pain. out of all the things to say, he chooses to say that? you think he deserves it.

“you know what, sae? you can go back to your fake girlfriends, i could care less,” you snap at him, pouting. you hate that despite how ignorant his words are that you can’t find it in yourself to hate him.

sae exhales sharply, chuckling softly when he sees your pout, and you feel as though it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this even though it’s not. his hand comes up to ruffle the top of your head gently, and you’re reminded of when he did this to you back in high school.

“can’t do that, can i?” he tells you, that soft disposition gone and the stoic mischief coming right back. “not when i’m in front of who could be my real girlfriend.”

your heart might’ve forgotten how to beat.

sae leaves you standing there, left to your own devices as he exits your apartment, fully aware of his effect on you.

not long after he leaves (while you’re still standing in the doorway), your phone buzzes in your pocket. you fish it out and see his name there for the first time in a long time.

you smile to yourself as you read his message. okay, so maybe you’ll spare eita’s life for now.

"eh? what do you mean no we can't cuddle tonight?"

you watch choso stare at you in sheer audacity, his arms motionlessly stretched out in front of his body as a gesture for you to move closer to him.

there's raw discomfort and embarrassment plastered on his face when you try to push him away by the chest, instantly dropping his hands by his sides dejectedly when you don't give in.

he then pouts.

"baby, 's too hot tonight... no cuddles."

he looks at you, opens his mouth, closes his mouth, then cocks one eyebrow while the corner of his lips pull up into a nasty sneer, "okay? and?"

choso begins to place one hand on his hip as the other keeps his body upright against the wall separating the living room and the kitchen area.

he holds your gaze with irritation shining in his eyes, and thats when your eyebrows raise at the sheer volume of his sassiness which prompts you to quirk your lips up into a smug grin.

"you heard me. no cuddles tonight."

choso then spins around and walks out of the room without uttering a single word, and when he comes back in minutes after, you're comfortably sitting on the sofa with your knees tucked into your chest and tapping away on your phone.

you bring your nose above the top of it to see what he was up to, and you're instantly met with a spray of cold liquid, causing you to flinch.

"w-what the-"

he has a spray bottle with water in it and a hand held fan ready at his disposal, and even bringing out a pack of frozen peas from the freezer that sat balanced between the buns on his head.

"what movie are we putting on?"

he casually sits down next to you and moves your hair to the side so that he can place the cold pack of peas at the back of your nape. you shudder from the sudden contact and deadpan once he starts spraying water in the air around you.

he then moves his body to the side to pick up the air conditioning remote and turns it on, blasting it cold.

"baby- wait a moment, i just said that-"

"shhh, i'm tryna watch the movie, babe." he then proceeds to bring you onto his lap, tucking your knees up and placing his chin atop the pack of peas that was wedged between the two of you.

you sigh, leaning into him and staring at the intro showing on the tv.

not even half an hour later you have to ask him to turn the temperature up on the ac and that condensation from the peas was dripping down the back of your neck.

he gives you this smug look and you rolls your eyes at him, pulling him closer to you as you snuggle deeper into his embrace.

step one: never deny him his cuddles. and step two: never out-sass the sassy.

Higuruma Hiromi x reader<3 (nsfw)

hiromi likes girls (his gf) who are a little (very) mean to him. CANON I ASKED GEGE.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Higuruma stands in the doorway of your bedroom, Hes been staring at you for a good while now, even before you noticed.

Looking at how your little dress hugs your pretty body.

you wave a hand infront of his face.

“whats up with you today…freak,” you say and laugh at him, the corner of his mouth tugs a little before going back to his usual, blank face.

“i cant look at whats mine? hm?” he says smoothly and plays with a strand of your hair.

“urgh,” you roll your eyes and turn away from him. You know he loves it, when you act like a little spoiled princess.

he grabs your arm and pull you back to him softly. He looks into your eyes again, something else than adoration behind them this time.

“hirom-“

“i thought about what you said,”

huh?

you look at him in question.

He smirks a little before speaking, “you know….about my nose,”

A couple days ago he’d told you how he used to hate his nose when he was younger. You’d frowned and taken his face in your pretty manicured hands and told him it was one of your favorite things about his appearance. It had made his heart swell in his chest, and he’d hugged you so tight right after telling you to ‘shut up and stop lying’

And he’d thought about it ever since, couldnt get it out of his head. And now he knew why.

He takes your jaw in his huge hand and brings your face up to look at him,

“if you like my nose so much, why dont you sit on it princess?” he tells you, looking into your eyes and pulling you closer by your waist.

Your eyes widen, and you blush while trying to push him away.

“stop saying things like that,” you look away from his eyes and he frowns.

“look at me baby,”

You reluctantly look at him again, the way he looks at you hungrily makes you ache.

“you telling me you dont want to?” He whispers to you, and you know he would drop it as soon as you say the word.

But you stay silent, looking away from him again. And he knows youre too shy to say it. so innocent. He wants to make you cry and shake on top of him.

He sighs and goes to pull away from you, but before he can get too far you grab him by the collar, nodding your head.

“yeah?” he asks. you nod again.

he smiles widely at you, before licking his lips and speaking,

“take this off,” he says as he plays with the hem of your dress.

His eyes scan over your body while you undress, his mouth watering. And when you finally stand infront of him, looking up at him with your pretty eyes, only wearing your panties, He picks you up by your thighs suddenly, And you yelp in surprise. He takes you to the bed, laying down with you now sitting on his chest.

You stare at eachother for a while before he speaks again,

“come on….wanna drown in your little pussy,”

Hes so nasty.

“dont worry you will, im gonna shut you up for once,” you say with a look of distaste, he knows your body is betraying you, with how big the wet spot on your panties has gotten.

you sit up on your knees, sliding down your underwear slowly, teasing him.

“mmm there she is,” he groans when he sees your pussy, slick with your arousal.

“youre so annoying,”

“sit on my face baby,”

you huff and sit down again on his chest, grinding your naked pussy on him. He groans loudly.

“fuck….you want me to beg? is that it sweetheart? hm?”

He breathes heavily, a desperate look on his face, and his hips buck behind you, trying to relieve himself a little.

You nod and wait for him, and when he opens his mouth to speak, reaching out to touch your waist, you slap his hand away.

“no touching,” you say with a serious face.

he almost cries. “evil…evil little girl,” fuck why wont you just let him have you, but he knows that you know he loves this. loves his pretty girlfriend being mean to him.

you take pity on him, you tell yourself, when you sit up on your knees, moving so that your pussy is hovering over his face. But really you know you cant wait anymore, you need to ride his handsome face.

“fuck yes…please baby, sit,” He groans under you.

you place yourself right on his mouth, his nose grazing your clit. He moans loudly into you, his hand going to rub himself so he doesnt loose his mind.

He rubs his face into you, licking and sucking on your cunt. You mewl and cry over him and he looks up at you, Smirking into your pussy.

You grab his hair then, grinding yourself down on him, riding his nose.

He babbles under you, probably filthy things. But his mouth is full, so all you hear is his muffled voice speaking into your soaked pussy.

He loves when you use him like this, and the way you look on top of him, fucking his face, its too much and not enough at the same time.

“fuck…use me princess,” He manages to get out in between eating you “cum on my face…”

You whine.

“fuck….” You shake and cry over him, cumming all over his drooling mouth. He keeps licking at you, trying to get every drop of cum. He groans, pulling away from you.

He looks so fucked out, his whole face is wet and his hair is messy, a dopey smile on his face.

You almost pass out, falling off him and onto the bed. He smiles and goes to lay on top of you, cradling your face in his hands.

“i need to change my boxers,” he says.

“of course you do,”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

IDK IF I LIKE THIS UM. anyways i hope u guys like it atleast >_<

i havent gotten to his intruduction in the manga yet i know nothing about this man except for that hes a lawyer and hes sexy

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part nine - Test of courage

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

Word Count : 4k

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arranged marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three.

You let out a long and bored sigh as you look at a blank paper in front of you. Tamaki assigned you to write ideas for the Halloween event the Host Club wants to host, but your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss and how eager Kyoya was and then returned to pretending you were just classmates. You were angry and yet… You only wanted him to kiss you all over again. 

It was infuriating. No. He was. 

“What about a cult of vampires thirsty for the blood of their guests.” Tamaki explodes as if he found the best idea of all time. Ew. Blood, no thanks. 

“This sounds too erotic even for us.” You chuckle. 

“Well, you haven’t written anything on that paper so I’m giving you some ideas to make that brain of yours work.” He chuckles while patting the top of your hair. 

The door busted open with the twins and Haruhi glued to their side. Kaoru spoke up first. “For the entire week, count us out.”

The mortifying expression on Tamaki’s face made you hold back a laugh. “What do you mean “us”? Why is Haruhi going with you?”

“We have a tournament on Halloween night, a test of courage.” She mumbles as if she thought it was the dumbest idea, it might as well be.

“And she is on our team.” Hikaru snickers. “She is in our class, afterall.” They both dramatically turn around and leave.

“Does this mean we cancel our event?” You ask quite eagerly for Tamaki’s response.

“This means we are going to participate in their little tournament.” His gaze never leaves the trio of second years. You grunt loudly. 

Tamaki’s genius plan was in preparation while you sat on a bench drinking tea with Mori. Your leg was bouncing rapidly out of anxiety.

“You seem tense.” Kyoya said, his eyes still focused on his computer screen. “I can smell the tension steaming.”

“Ew.” You scoff. “I'm not tense," you retorted.

“What's bothering you then? Are you scared?" Tamaki chuckled.

“No, I just don't see the point in scaring people," you mumbled.

Honey took a seat beside you and flashed a bright smile. “It's not just about that. You have a lot of candies too!"

“That's a valid point," you conceded. "While you two brilliant minds work on your plan, I'll make my exit. I've got some personal matters to attend to."

“Why's that?" Kyoya asked abruptly, turning his gaze towards you.

“It's not something you need to worry about," you replied with a quick smile before making your way out of the music room. In truth, you weren't busy at all; all your studies and homework were already completed. You simply wished to avoid the Halloween preparations. As you strolled through the school, you sought out an empty music room where you could indulge in a bit of cello before the next class.

After leaving the music room, you headed down the corridor in search of an empty space to practice your cello. As you walked, you couldn't help but overhear snippets of excited chatter from various students discussing the Halloween preparations. It seemed that the Host Club's Halloween event was generating quite a buzz.

Finally, you found an empty and peaceful practice room. You entered and set up your cello, finding comfort in the familiar strains of the instrument. As you began to play, the hauntingly beautiful melody filled the room, creating a serene atmosphere that provided a stark contrast to the bustling excitement of Halloween preparations.

Unbeknownst to you, a familiar figure from the Host Club had been silently trailing you. Haruhi, who had been observing your interactions with the other members, had sensed your need for a break from the chaotic festivities. She had followed you discreetly, understanding that you preferred solitude.

Leaning against the doorframe, Haruhi listened to your enchanting music. The sound of the cello captivated her, and she was moved by the depth of emotion in your playing. She watched you with a soft smile, appreciating the chance to see a different side of you.

When you eventually finished your piece, you turned to find Haruhi standing there, a gentle and understanding look in her eyes. She didn't say anything, but her presence was enough to convey her support and empathy.

“Be ready, Tamaki is taking part in your Tournament.”

She smiles. “This means you will as well?”

“Obviously.” You snort. 

With that, the two of you spent a little more time chatting, and finding common ground amidst the chaos of the Host Club's Halloween preparations. It was a welcome and unexpected connection that brought a sense of calm to an otherwise hectic day.

On Halloween night

You entered the ball room and noticed the dark ambiance. In the middle you could see makeup and costumes ready to be worn. 

You sigh. “Did you really ask the occult club to help us?” 

“They are professionals afterall.” Tamaki says proudly. “Who else but the Occult Club to know what is scary or not?” He had a fair point. 

You were grabbed by two girls and forced to sit down on a chair. You couldn’t protest before their work started. They Had their makeup brushes ready with pink and white paint. “It’s too late to say no, right?” You ask anyone before the first stroke of white paint touches your skin. At the same time the other girl worked over your hair. Two pigtails wrapped in red ribbons. It felt like forever until you could see yourself in the mirror. You were going to be a creepy little creepy lolitta doll.

“Good god.” You scoff as you look at yourself with your regular uniform, you look silly. 

“Do you not like it?” Nekozawa asked in a grim tone. To be fair, you were a bit freaked out by him and so you lied.

“I love it. I’m just not used to it.” You smile as best as you can, but you look creepy nonetheless. 

“Good!” He smiles. Even if he was happy, his smile was creepy. “We got the perfect costume to fit with your marvelous character. “The cursed doll!” It was like thunder cracked at the same time he spoke those very words. 

You looked in the mirror and couldn't help but feel that you appeared terrifying – and not in a good way. The worn-out pink and white puffy dress you wore was splattered with fake blood in a chaotic pattern. You imagined your mother would have a heart attack if she saw you in this outfit.

Emerging from the dressing room, you joined your Host Club friends in the ballroom. Tamaki, in his dashing vampire costume, looked unfairly handsome. Mori and Honey, dressed as a pair of werewolves straight out of a telenovela, exuded a certain charm. Kyoya, on the other hand, had chosen not to dress up.

With a stoic expression, you couldn't help but voice your frustration. "I hate you guys."

"Don't you look terrifying?" Kyoya quipped with a barely suppressed laugh.

You glared at him. "And don't you guys look cute?"

"Do you think so?" Honey's smile was radiant.

"Why am I the only one overdressed?" You grumbled.

Tamaki, wrapping an arm over your shoulders, smiled as he explained, "You are the dessert to our coup."

"I don't think that's a saying," you retorted. He led you out of the ballroom and into a classroom tucked away in the far corner of the school.

"Stay here until Honey gives you the signal. Here's your script," Tamaki said, handing you a crumpled piece of paper before closing the door, leaving you alone in the dark room.

"Ugh, I hate them," you muttered to yourself, closing your eyes and reading the poorly written script. It lacked any real scare factor. Your best bet was to simply scream at anyone who entered the room or adopt a lifeless stare to unnerve them.

As you sat in the dark room, dressed in your creepy Lolita costume, time seemed to crawl by at an agonizingly slow pace. The initial excitement of transforming into a terrifying character had given way to boredom and restlessness. Your once-eager anticipation for your role had faded into a growing sense of impatience.

You began to fidget in your chair, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the occasional distant laughter and muffled voices from the Halloween event outside. The worn-out pink and white dress seemed to constrict your movements, making you acutely aware of how uncomfortable and itchy it had become.

You sighed deeply, shifting your weight from side to side, trying to ease the discomfort of your costume. Your thoughts wandered, and you began to wonder if you were somehow forgotten or if the Host Club's plan had encountered an unexpected delay. The desire for some action or interaction had grown stronger with each passing minute.

Impulsively, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, checking the time. It had been far longer than you'd expected, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exasperation. To alleviate your boredom, you began scrolling through your phone, reading messages, and checking social media, all while anxiously waiting for Honey's signal to finally break the monotony of your solitary confinement.

The door creaked open and you looked at who it was not bothering to hide back your phone. 

“This is really not your shade.” Kyoya snickers as he enters the room.

“Laugh all you want.” You sigh. He looked at you as if to say “Oh, I am.”, “What are you doing here?”

“Keeping you from dying of boredom.” He took a seat next to you on the floor. 

“My phone was already doing your job.” You chuckle lightly. 

“You really don’t like Halloween, don’t you?”

"Not really, no," you began, reflecting on your past. "When I was a kid, my parents were so busy with their own lives and jobs that they never had time for Halloween, or even Christmas some years. By the time they started to be more present, I just didn't care that much anymore about the holidays."

Kyoya sighed deeply, and you could see his thoughtful expression as he absorbed the glimpse of your personal history.

As the seconds ticked by, you found yourself pondering why you had shared such a personal memory with Kyoya. It wasn't something you typically opened up about, especially not in the midst of a festive occasion like Halloween. Perhaps it was the quiet and the stillness of the room that had encouraged the spontaneous revelation. Or maybe it was Kyoya's ability to make you feel strangely comfortable discussing your past. Regardless of the reason, you couldn't help but wonder why you had chosen to reveal a part of yourself at that moment.

“Then let’s go.” He said as he grabbed your hand to help you out of your creepy chair.

“Where?” 

“I’m going to show you what’s so fun about it.”

Kyoya led you out of the dimly lit room and into the corridor, your hand still in his firm grip. You followed him through the maze-like hallways of the school, unsure of what to expect.

As you moved stealthily through the school, you couldn't help but have reservations about this endeavor. The idea of scaring people had never really appealed to you, and you had doubts about whether it would be as fun as the others made it out to be. But you trusted Kyoya's judgment, and his air of confidence piqued your curiosity.

The two of you took positions in a dimly lit hallway, concealed behind a corner, waiting for your next victim. Your heart raced as you watched a student approaching, completely unaware of your presence.

In perfect coordination, you and Kyoya executed your plan. As the student drew nearer, you let out a spine-chilling, ghostly wail while Kyoya produced an eerie, spectral light using a concealed flashlight. The student, taken aback and startled, screamed in terror before realizing it was all a prank.

At first, you watched with mixed emotions, uncertain of how the student would react. But as the initial shock and fear gave way to laughter and amusement, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and satisfaction. Giggling uncontrollably, you and Kyoya shared in the joy of the moment.

You and Kyoya ventured further into the school, your Lolita doll costume taking on a new persona with each scare. The initial uncertainty you had felt had given way to a sense of exhilaration and a growing enthusiasm for the Halloween shenanigans.

As you reached a more crowded area of the school, you couldn't resist the temptation to continue your mischief. You spotted a group of students engrossed in conversation and laughter, unaware of your presence. Kyoya nodded at you, signaling that this was your next target.

You approached the group with a silent grace, the ruffled layers of your dress swaying as you moved. As you got closer, you unleashed a spine-tingling, ghostly whisper that seemed to echo through the corridor. Simultaneously, Kyoya, hidden in the shadows, conjured a ghostly blue glow that danced eerily around you.

The students, caught off guard by the sudden otherworldly presence, let out a collective gasp and huddled together in fear. A few of them even dropped their belongings in their fright.

You couldn't help but stifle a giggle as you watched their terrified reactions. Some clutched their hearts, while others playfully scolded each other for overreacting. The initial shock gave way to laughter, and you realized that this was the essence of Halloween – a blend of fear and fun.

One of the students, a young girl, turned to you with a mixture of relief and amusement. "That was a good one! You really got us."

You gave a mischievous curtsy, your creepy Lolita persona adding to the theatrics of the moment. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

As you and Kyoya roamed the dimly lit corridors, you noticed a locked door at the end of a long hallway, illuminated only by the faint light of a flickering overhead bulb. It seemed like the perfect setting for a dramatic and hair-raising Halloween scare.

With a shared nod, you and Kyoya decided to orchestrate a chilling performance. You took your position near the door, hidden in the shadows, your Lolita doll costume transformed into a ghostly and eerie presence.

Kyoya, meanwhile, prepared to unleash his talents. With a quick flourish of his hand, he projected a series of ghostly images on the door, each one more terrifying than the last. The ghostly apparitions danced and flickered, accompanied by spine-tingling whispers that filled the air.

Unsuspecting students rounded the corner and came into view, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. As they approached the locked door, they spotted the ghostly figures and heard the haunting whispers. Panic washed over them, and they let out a chorus of terrified screams.

In their panic, the students stumbled over each other, desperately searching for an escape route. Some of them turned and ran back the way they came, while others frantically pounded on the locked door, pleading for it to open. The once-crowded hallway turned into a scene of chaotic terror.

You and Kyoya couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline as the students fled in sheer panic, their fear evident in their eyes. It was the ultimate Halloween scare, and you had succeeded beyond your wildest expectations.

As the commotion gradually subsided and the corridor returned to a state of calm, you exchanged an exhilarated glance with Kyoya. The dramatic scare had left a lasting impression, and you both couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

You finally got what made this activity so enjoyable, and you couldn't help but share a knowing smile with Kyoya as you continued to haunt the hallways together.

As your Halloween night of spooking students continued, Kyoya approached you with an excited glint in his eyes. "How about a grand finale?" he suggested, a mischievous smile on his face. Curious and eager to embrace the festive spirit, you nodded in agreement. "What do you have in mind?" Kyoya explained his plan, which involved a grand scare that would target none other than the notorious twins with Haruhi. It was an enticing proposition, and you both set off to make it happen.

You ran around the school to find the trio and once you did they were walking to their next trap, you.

You began to move in a slow, puppet-like manner, as if controlled by unseen strings, your joints bending unnaturally, your movements otherworldly. You swayed with an eerie grace, creating an atmosphere of surreal horror.

At the same time, Kyoya cast an illusion of ghostly whispers and phantom shadows that danced around you. The effect was haunting and mesmerizing, and the corridor seemed to take on a life of its own.

The twins and Haruhi watched, transfixed by the chilling performance. Hikaru and Kaoru exchanged uneasy glances, and Haruhi clutched her heart in mock fear.

As the performance reached its climax, you let out another spine-chilling wail, your voice echoing through the corridor. The twins were quite uneasy with you as for Haruhi, she held back a laugh to not mess up your performance. They weren’t moving until you stopped abruptly before sprinting for them, making them run away from you leaving Haruhi alone with you. 

“Too bad I wasn’t convincing enough to scare you.” You laugh with Haruhi.

“I do not scare easily.” She says drying her tears of laughter. Kyoya came out of hiding and applauded you. 

“I didn’t think you’d enjoy yourself that much.” He smiles brightly. A first.

“All thanks to the brains behind the operation.” You applauded him as well.

Later that night as you were taking out your makeup with Renge and Haruhi’s help, the winners were announced by Nekozawa. You were declared the champion of the Tournament!

Gasps of astonishment filled the room as the Host Club members realized the outcome. Hikaru and Kaoru exchanged surprised glances.

"You weren't even participating!" Kaoru exclaimed.

You smirked, "You guys are just sore losers."

Hikaru chimed in, "You're not even a second-year!"

Kyoya, however, simply leaned against a wall with a wry smile. "All I hear is whining from two losers."

You couldn't help but giggle at the banter among your friends, sharing a victorious moment.

After finally shedding the uncomfortable Lolita costume and wiping away the last remnants of makeup, you found yourself alone in the cozy embrace of the music room. The echoes of the Halloween festivities still resonate in your mind, but the overwhelming discomfort of the costume had been left far behind.

Sitting in the dimly lit room, you reflected on the night, your thoughts filled with gratitude for Kyoya. His unexpected and thrilling proposal to embrace the Halloween spirit had transformed a dull evening into a genuinely enjoyable one. You couldn't help but smile as you remembered how he had dragged you into the world of scares and pranks, and in doing so, had shared a unique and memorable experience with you.

The Halloween night had been a perfect blend of fright and fun, of camaraderie and laughter, and it was all thanks to Kyoya's initiative. As you sat in the peaceful music room, you realized that sometimes, the most unexpected and unconventional plans could lead to the best and most cherished memories.

"All hail the champion," a voice echoed in the empty room, and there stood Kyoya, the unexpected partner in your Halloween scare victory.

You couldn't resist a teasing grin. "Only a bow and some praise will do for your champion."

He walked over, the atmosphere filled with a mix of playful competition and genuine camaraderie. His smile was cocky as he leaned against the side of the column.

"So, do I get a prize for helping you win?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a playful challenge.

You responded with a smug grin, "It's my name they announced, not yours, so I'm afraid you don't get anything."

Kyoya leaned in closer, his smile seeming somewhat wistful. "I did help you win, though. I should get something."

With a soft laugh, you placed a hand on his arm and said, "You get the honor of witnessing your fiancé's majestic victory."

The two of you shared a moment of contentment and affection, the playful banter masking the fondness you felt for each other. It was a celebration of your Halloween success and the unique bond you shared.

“I want something else as my prize.” He smirks.

He acted on his impulses, seizing you by the waist and pressing you firmly against the column. His lips met yours with a passionate intensity, a bruising kiss that left you breathless, and you gasped in surprise at the sudden, fervent connection.

His tongue tantalizing teased your bottom lip, seeking entry, and you willingly granted it. Your heads tilted in unison, and one of his hands found its way to the back of your neck, gently bending it to deepen the kiss. A throaty moan escaped your lips as his other hand on your hip squeezed you possessively.

For a brief moment, he pulled back, his breath hot against your skin, and he whispered with a mixture of desire and frustration, "You always manage to pick the worst timing to drive me so, so eager for you."

His lips trailed a scorching path down your cheek, following the delicate curve of your jawline. Each touch was an electric shock of sensation, sending shivers down your spine as the world around you seemed to blur, consumed by the fervent desire shared in this stolen moment.

“Don’t I?” You chuckled briefly. “It just means I’m winning.”

“How so?” He asks not to bother to stop his lips from connecting to your skin. 

“You want to hear my master plan?”

“Do enlighten me.” His soft laugh lights a fire inside your stomach. 

“The more you resist me, the more you want me… Have you noticed how close we’ve become in the last few days?” He stops himself in his tracks to look at you in the eyes with intrigue. “I am winning.”

“Must everything be a competition between the two of us?”

“To get what we both deeply want, it is not an option.”

“And what is it I want?” He smirks as if he could read you all too well. 

“You don’t want to marry me for love and some other reason you refuse to talk about and I don’t want to get married at all, but duty is duty. But you do want me, which makes things complicated for us.” You breathe heavily when his teeth graze the skin of your neck. “So let’s meet in the middle. We can either keep denying each other’s needs and go our separate ways to college hoping to find better matches for us so we both marry for love, duty and what not, or we can give in and have our fun until college and then we find better matches. So you don’t have to marry me and you’ll be out of my hair. Two simple choices, one clearly more fun than the other, but riskier.”

He chuckles when he faces you again. “How so?”

“You’ll fall in love.” No, you would.

“With you?” He chuckles. “You’re pretty to look at, sure, but you get on my nerves too much for me to fall in love.” 

“I gave you our options, it’s your choice. In a way I am not replacing you like you asked.” He crashed his lips to yours, his very own way to seal their deal.

“I won’t lose to you, y/n.” He whispered before his lips met yours once more. 

“Neither will I.” You moan against his lips before you were picked up and carried on one of the pink velvet couches. He pried your pants off gently as his lips were still glued to yours. It was happening… You’d finally have Kyoya the way you wanted him ever since last time he kissed you. 

He moved between your thighs and took his sweet time to kiss and nimble on both of them. 

“You always assume I have better self control than I actually do.” He whispers before taking your underwear off. “I’m no better than any other man when it comes to you.” He smirks before dipping his head between your thighs. You huffed out a loud moan when he licked a stripe up your folds, before plunging his tongue right into your dripping heat. You snatched at his head, pulling his hair as your hips shifted against him— his nose nudging your clit.

He moaned against your cunt— the vibrations making that coil in your stomach tighten. He squeezed your thighs, running his tongue up your folds and swirling it around your clit, repeating this action a few times. You felt like you were in a dream, Kyoya pleasing you as a reward for your victory... or for his own pleasure. It didn't matter, he had accepted your deal and you were more than happy to give in to the tension between the two of you.

You felt yourself drawing tight, a thin sheen of sweat gathering across your bare skin. “Kyoya—” You came with a moan of his name, your hips stuttering against his face. You felt him groan beneath you, tongue working you through your orgasm.

After a long moment, Kyoya hovered over you. You smiled hazily at him. He hummed, pressing his mouth to yours. You couldn't believe what had just happened.

You could taste yourself on his lips, his tongue. You hummed a response, too busy stroking his cheek, feeling your own arousal sticky on your fingers. He pulled back briefly. “I won’t lose to you.” He repeated like it was an oath and you believed him for a split second.

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part six -  The Perfect Boyfriend List

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Word count : 2k+

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arranged marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three.

A/N: I’m so sorry for the long wait and the short part. I have been through a lot these past few months especially with the quarter life crisis. I hope you’ve been all doing great. I promise that the wait will be worth it for the next few parts coming up (spoiler alert: some angst and some sprinkle of spice)

Keep reading

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part five - Sun and thunder

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Word count : 4k

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arranged marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three.

Warning: Mention of blood and some bad volleyball description.

Keep reading

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part three - The dinner date

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Word count : 3K

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arranged marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three.

Hi! I’m just taking a short break from posting for a week or two just because my finals are right around the corner and I obviously have to take care of that first and secure that diploma! So I hope you enjoy this chapter and I’ll see you in a week or two, I’ll keep you updated!

Keep reading

Mommy?

Kyoya ootori x reader

Fluff

Summary: in which your friend drags you to the schools host club in hopes to find your soulmate.

Au: you have a small tattoo that represents both you and your soulmate yours is a shadow with a crown and a bunny.

So this is dedicated to @dearlazerbunny cause they gave a suggestion to my would be Smau. Kyoya with a soulmate au. Here you go bunny.

"B/f/n no! I'm busy. I have to take care of my siblings!" You lied trying to pull your arm back from your best friend. You just wanted to go home and relax but your best friend insisted on making you go to the host club.

"You always do that! Come on! Just for today?" She asked "who knows?! Maybe you'll find your soulmate!"

Your will became weak at the mention of your soulmate having looked for them all your life. Being a second year at Ouran high school most of the students have already found their soulmate or are betrothed to someone.

Your parents who both came from poor backgrounds and worked their way up the ladder doing what they loved allowed you and your siblings to find your soulmates.

You nodded and said "Just for today and that's it!"

Your friend beamed in joy and lead you down to the host club in music room three.

Your friend opens the door and waltzes in while you are attacked by flying rose petals and a blinding light.

When you can finally see again you notice your friend was already seated among the tables.

"Ahem. Excuse me ms. L/n but what are you doing here?" You turn to see the resident cool type of the host club

"Ah! Kyoya, my friend dragged me here and went to go sit down and I have no idea what to do." You exclaimed kinda embarrassed

"Well, you can request any host you wish. We have the princely type" he said as he pointed at Tamaki heartthrob of many of the girls at school

"The strong and silent type." He pointed at Mori

"The Boy lolita." He gestured to honey atop of Mori's shoulders

"The mischievous type." The famous twins of the first years

"The natural type." The short new host with big brown eyes and is stealing girls left and right.

"And the cool type." He moved his hand to himself and gave a bow. You smile with a small laugh.

"I'll go with the cool type. He's the only one other than my best friend that I know. Also, Tamaki seems busy." You stated

"Oh? Alright. Let's go to the table over there." He says and leads you to the table and pulls out a chair for you.

"Thank you!" You exclaim quietly

"You're quite welcome." He replies

"So..." You start awkwardly

"What made you come to the host club today?" Kyoya asked

"Well, my best friend. I just wanted to go home and maybe do some work." You explained fiddling with your left sleeve. Your dress hid your soul mark and you weren't really adamant on showing it.

"Oh? What kind of work?" He asked

"Honestly, I don't know. I have a bunch of siblings so I'm used to taking care of them. Which means a bunch of work." You said moving your hands as you explain

"Oh? That's interesting to know." He replied

"Do you have any nicknames?" You ask curiously

"A few." He answered vaguely

"Which are?" You lean forward slightly interested to hear

 "Demon Lord, Hypotensive Devil, Low Blood Pressure Evil Lord, and-" He started the names people gave to him before he was cut off

"Mommy!" Tamari whined as he tried to get Kyoya's attention

You laugh a little snort coming out. You cover your mouth and nose laughing out a small "Pfft! Mommy?"

You see him glare at Tamaki as you laugh covering your mouth.

"Any other names... Mommy?" You tease as you get up from the table after realizing everyone except you and the host club was gone

"Yes." He said standing up he walked towards you making you walk back. He placed a and behind your head and kabedoned you. "They also call me shadow king... Bunny."

Your breath hitched and you gulp as you used your nickname in such a deep voice. Your eyes widen and you grab his arm. You push up his sleeve and gasp.

"Holy mac and cheese..." You breathe out looking up at him "you're my soulmate."

You push up your own sleeve and there was a matching image of a shadow man with a gold crown shape and a purple bunny.

He looks up at you with a smirk. "I know... I wonder how long it takes you to figure it out." He said still having you back to the wall

"Well, aren't you cocky. How long?" You ask ducking under his arm and hopping away

"Four months." He replied watching you "why do they call you bunny?"

"A bunny symbolizes prosperity, abundance, and.. Fertility." You say "which if you look at my family you can tell why. Bunny's are also cute and approachable and that cone from my personality."

"Ah..." He nodded "about this soulmate dilemma-" he was cut off by you

"Would you like to take it slow and see where this goes?" You question

"Yes." He replied

"Alright... Mommy." You joke laughing

repost of a request from my old account @/azaliyas! this is the last one i promise ahah

venti x gn!reader. hurt to comfort. reader suffers from anxiety and panic attacks. don't read if you feel uncomfortable with these topics. i tried my best in making research when i firstly wrote this fic but i don't have first-hand experience, so sorry in advance if this won't be 100% accurate.

you had a gut feeling today was going to be off for you, but you dismissed it as your usual anxiety for social interactions, even the smallest ones like greetings when going shopping.

but now, now you regret not listening to your inside voice begging you to stay at home today. you could have stayed in your boyfriend venti's sleepy hug all morning, he wouldn't have minded one bit. in fact, he even begged you.

you asked yourself if he did perceive something, and again you regret not staying in bed.

you thought it was going to be fine, running small errands around mondstadt like buying groceries for the week and commission wagner to repair an old heirloom.

after getting all the groceries you needed you were about to pay blanche, a couple of people standing behind you as you were searching in your wallet for the mora. you were feeling a bit dizzy, your vision blurring a little. you were feeling bad for making other people wait, but your trembling hands made it difficult for you to grab the coins.

the woman standing behind you groaned once again at your slowness, her patience running thin as she probably had other errands to do.

«if you don't have enough money to pay or you're just that stupid you can't even count the coins then next time ask for the delivery service! people can't wait for you, little princess!» she yelled, pushing you aside in such a rude way you almost fell on the ground with your bags.

the other woman standing in line and blanche looked at you with pitiful gazes. you felt tears pricking at your eyes as you felt your body petrifying on spot. you knew what that feeling was, but you had to push it through. with your hands still trembling you put the right amount of mora on the counter and took your bags, heavy feet dragging you along the streets.

your chest felt tight and heavy, every breath suffocating, gripping on your lungs in an iron grasp. you didn't know where your feet were taking you, but as long as you were away from the people's inquiring gazes that was okay. you knew people were looking at you, you could feel the bitter tears sliding down your cheeks.

you found yourself in a lonely alley. it was good, you thought as you slid down against a wall, the bags in your hands falling on the ground as you started sobbing. your tears mixed with the droplets of sweat running down your temples and neck. you felt the collar of your shirt dumping, but you didn't care.

the more you cried and the more the ache in your chest worsened, your quiet sobs turning into hiccups.

a gentle breeze hit your face, drying the tears on your cheeks. a shadow loomed over you before kneeling down to reach your eye level, and even through the tears the teal and dark blue braids were unmistakable.

«why is my pretty cecilia crying?» he whispered with that gentle tone that was reserved to you only, his beloved.

venti sat beside you, an arm wrapped around your shoulders and the other encircling your front, his hand resting on your tear-stained face. he pushed your head on his shoulder, not minding the tears and sweat staining his clothes, it didn't matter. your well being, now, was his most important thought at the moment.

you didn't talk, still feeling dizzy and nauseous, your throat hoarse from crying and the choking feeling from the worst part of your panic attack. a gentle wind brought fresh air in your lungs and you squeezed venti's hand in a silent "thank you". his lips left a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

you two stayed in the alley for a while, your boyfriend soothing your mind and your soul as you regained consciousness of your surroundings. the after effects of your attack left you with wobbly legs, but it didn't matter, since venti carried both you and the groceries back home.

in the warmth and safety of your home you felt much better, but your boyfriend's arms would always remain the safest of havens, sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace.

© the-guardian-kitsune 2024 do not copy repost translate or feed to ai

you arrive like a dream.

summary: you are fourteen years old when bachira breaks your heart, and you run halfway across the world to avoid him. so how are you supposed to react when the universe, against all your express wishes, brings the two of you back together again?

notes: 14k words, fic, author's notes, childhood friends, childhood heartbreak, messy relationships, really kind of a study of how people fall apart and then get back together

“I want to take a break from us.”

It’s the first thing your boyfriend says to you, barely waiting for the waitress to set down your order and clear away your laminated menus before speaking.

Instead of responding, you take a long sip of your milkshake, whipped cream sinking into a chocolate sea, your mouth flooding with sweetness. You regard the boy across from you thoughtfully, the one you’ve been dating for six months ever since he confessed to you during a school dance. He’s not the only boy you’ve ever dated in America, but he’s the one you’ve dated the longest. 

Most American boys seem to regard you with a mixture of curiosity and fascination as an exchange student from Japan. The kinder ones try not to treat you any differently than they would from your other classmates, but the worse ones will make constant jokes about hentai and mock your faint accent. 

By this point, though, you’ve learned to tune out the insults and the passive aggressive comments. You’ve always been good at dealing with other people, knowing how to read the mood and adjusting your behavior accordingly. Your teachers often praised you for being so well-behaved and conscientious. 

The meaner boys treat you like a zoo animal precisely because they want to see your reaction, so it’s better not to give them the reaction that they want. Otherwise, the second they sense hurt, they’ll sink their teeth in and never let go. Of course, they don’t seem to realize that in the same way they observe you, you can observe them right back. 

As for your boyfriend, Thomas? Well. He does his best. Or at least you think he does his best. No one mocks you to his face when he’s around, and he valiantly tells people to “knock it off” whenever he thinks you feel uncomfortable. He’s sweet, if a little obtuse, and you like him well enough. You wouldn’t date him if you didn’t. But his confession had been so out of the blue, and you had no real reason to accept him– just like you didn’t have any real reason to reject him. 

In short, your relationship started on an ambivalent whim. He’s not the sort of person you can share your thoughts with, but it’s not as if you’re looking for a lifelong companionship. He’s mild, and nice to be around, which is just what you need after everything that happened to you in Japan. He’s just like the whipped cream slowly disappearing into your milkshake in that aspect.

Your boyfriend calls your name. “Hey, are you okay? Do you want me… to explain?” Thomas says softly. 

You’ve been staring into space for too long, and your milkshake is half-empty. You smile at him. “No, it’s fine. A break, right? I understand.”

“I don’t want this to be permanent. It doesn’t have to be,” Thomas says, running a hand through his shorn blond hair. “It’s just soccer season is kicking up again, and I won’t have a lot of time to spend with you. I didn’t want you to feel abandoned, or anything. And I want to focus on practice. So…” He looks at you like a kicked puppy, as if you’re the one breaking up with him, and not the other way around. “We can date again once the season is over.”

“Okay,” you say, dragging your straw through your softening milkshake. “Let’s see what happens at the end of the season.”

Thomas perks up. “Great! Do you want anything else to eat? It’s my treat.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Thomas says.

Milkshakes are no remedies for break-ups, but you bite your tongue. “Yes. I’m sure.”

Thomas flags down the waitress, a freckled and red-haired girl who lets her stare linger a little too long. Not that you can blame her; he is cute. But Thomas, good old oblivious Thomas, only smiles innocently in return. 

Maybe you should get jealous. Pull some American teen movie line and say that “he’s your man” and put her in her place, or something equally dramatic like that. But he’s not really “your man” anymore, is he? Besides, staring is free, and, as you often hear, this is a free country. 

By the time the two of you are out of the diner, Thomas is pulling you into a hug. You limply wrap one arm around his back. “See you later,” he whispers. “You can still call me if anything happens, okay?”

Should you remind him of the international fees that it would take for him to call you Japan? “Okay.” 

You’re still standing outside the diner when Thomas waves at you through the windows of his car and pulls away from the curb. Maybe you should have asked for a ride, but getting a ride with your now-ex is a little weird. The weather is clear and the sunshine warm, so it’s a mild enough spring day for you to walk back. You’d prefer the walk, anyways, compared to the awkward silence in Thomas’s stifling truck.

Halfway down the pavement, your phone starts buzzing in your pocket. You pull it out: it’s your mom. There’s a seventeen hour time difference between California and Japan, and the international fees of a phone call are exorbitant, but your mom has never cared much about finances. “Money is there for you to spend it,” she always claims. Easy enough for her to say when she runs an investment firm that rakes in enough yen for her to send you abroad.

“Hello, Okaa-san,” you say when you open your phone. 

“Hello,” she coos. “Good morning! Ah, wait. It’s afternoon for you, right?”

“It’s afternoon, and you’re a day ahead of me,” you confirm.

“Oho! I forgot! So you’re talking to a time traveler right now,” she says.

“Seems so. Have any news from the future?”

“You’re going on spring break next week, right?” She doesn’t wait for you to respond before barreling on. “Why don’t you fly home to Japan for the holidays?” your mom says. “I’m already booking the tickets.”

“Why’d you even ask if you were going to do it for me?” 

“Just because you always tell me you hate it when I do things without telling you. So I’m alerting you in advance,” she chirps.

You sigh. “Okay. Send me the ticket details when you’re done.”

You can imagine your mom’s grin over the phone. “Perfect! By the way, I ran into Yu-san a little while ago. We talked about how much you used to love her art lessons! Do you remember how you used to beg to spend extra time at Yu-san’s studio?”

You stop in the middle of the sidewalk, the sunshine suddenly searing your neck. You fight to keep your voice steady. “Yeah. I do. Why?”

“Well, then we started talking about Meguru-kun. You always bugged me about when he could come over and play. You were such a mild-mannered child, but as soon as you saw Meguru-kun, you would just get so wild. I’d never seen you have so much fun. I swear, it was so cute.”

“Okaa-san,” you say faintly, but she continues on.

“Since it’s been so long since you were back in Japan, Yu-san and I thought it would be nice if the two of you could see each other again, so we arranged a little meeting for the four of us. Won’t it be nice to catch up with your childhood friend over dinner? There’s no need to thank me.”

There really isn’t. You gape like an open-mouthed fish after your mom’s triumphant little speech, thoughts scattering like bubbles on the surface of a pond.

“Does Meguru know that you’ve done this?” you say. It’s the only question that manages to escape. His first name feels like ash in your mouth. When did you last use it? 

“Yu-san told him right away. I think she said he was excited to see you!”

“That’s… great,” you say. “I have to go now, Okaa-san. I have something to do. I’ll see you when I fly back.”

“Okay. Love you!”

With a cheerful blip, your mom ends the call and you sink to your knees, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes. Shit. This is going to be the worst possible way to spend your spring break. Thomas is one thing, but Bachira? No way. There is absolutely no way in hell you can face him again.

You might have gotten along back in Japan, running around Chiba together as children, but it’s been years since then. Maybe if you were two regular childhood friends, you would jump with joy at the opportunity to see him. If you didn’t have the particular history you did, this would have been a pleasant surprise. But you two don’t have that sort of relationship anymore, and the thought of Bachira makes old wounds flare to life.

You can’t blame your mom for not knowing, not really. You’ve mentioned your American boyfriends here and there, but you tend to keep a tight lid on your love life, as you’ve always been her pristine, studious child. You try not to make it a habit to keep secrets from your mom.

In fact, the only secret you’ve ever kept from her is that Bachira Meguru broke your heart when you were fourteen years old. 

–

You have always wanted to be the perfect child for your mom.

Ever since you could remember, your afternoons and weekends were full of different lessons, from piano to dance, and English to math tutoring. Your mom cooed with excitement at all your new hobbies, demanding you show her every time you learned a new musical piece or math equation. You charged headfirst into whatever skill you could learn to mold yourself into a well-rounded adult, so no one could find a way to look down on your mom. All of her business associates patted you on the head and spoke indulgently at you. As if you couldn’t sense the way they viewed you as an extension of your mom, and a way to judge her.

Art lessons, however, were when your life took a sudden, unexpected turn.

You remembered this: you were eight, and it was a cool spring day during your very first lesson, and Bachira-san had given you free reign of the canvas, handing you a palette and a brush. Her lessons always took place in her studio, the door open to let in the breeze, sunlight sinking into stacks of piled canvas and painting supplies placed haphazardly on every free surface.

You stared up at Bachira-san with a frown, looking uncertainly in her smiling face. “What am I supposed to do with this?” you asked.

“Whatever you want,” she replied, ruffling the top of your head. You gave a squeak of protest. 

“But what do you want?” you persisted. 

“I want you to do whatever you want,” Bachira-san said with a grin. “Why don’t I give you some space to paint? I’ll come back in a little bit, ‘kay?”

And so Bachira-san had left you in front of a canvas, your frown growing as you dipped a brush into the green paint. Incomprehensible. The adults in your life always had such clear expectations for you, and Bachira-san’s instructions feel like she just handed you a blank map and told you to chart unexplored territory. 

You dragged a tentative, watery streak of green on the bright white canvas, but it looked ugly and intrusive. You’d marred the pristine surface already.

Something brushed your foot. You looked down to see a football rolling across the wooden floor of the studio, and not a second later, the small head of a child peeking around the corner of the door. 

“Kaa-san! I’m back– eh? Who are you?”

The boy approached you curiously. There was a bandage on his face, and streaks of dirt running down his legs and striping his cheeks.

“Who are you?” you demanded, brandishing your brush like a sword. “I’m having an art lesson right now.”

Undeterred, the boy tilted his head like a giant chipmunk. “Art lesson? This is where Kaa-san works.”

“Huh…” Your teacher must be his mom, and he must be her son, you deduced. 

Seemingly losing interest, the boy ran after the football, which had lodged in the corner. With a few swift kicks, the boy skilfully bounced it up on his knee, his elbow, and his head. It was just like the seals you saw once at the aquarium, who could perform the same tricks for a few fish as incentive.

“Hey! Can you play football?” the boy said suddenly, turning back to you with the ball balanced precariously on his head.

“Football? I can’t play. I have to study art.”

“But that’s boring… Wait!” The boy brightened as he lurched towards you, wrestling the brush from your grasp. You watched in horror as the boy slashed the brush across the canvas, dipping randomly into the paint, creating an incomprehensible mess of lines and paint splatters. “Done! Now you can play with me.”

You shoved him, as hard as you could, and the boy toppled to the floor, his football bouncing sadly into a pile of canvas. “What are you doing? You– you ruined it!”

“I helped you,” the boy protested. He leaped up into the air, regarding you quizzically. “Kaa-san paints like that all the time.”

“Bachira-san– Bachira-san is a real artist! You can’t just– argh!” You stumbled at him, annoyed, tiny fists swinging, but the boy only dodged out of the way.

A grin splitted his face. “Are we playing now? Yay!”

You don’t know how long this chase lasted. All you knew was that you wanted to wipe that unbearably happy look from his face after he ruined your lesson, because how on earth could you explain this to Bachira-san? But the boy only danced around, laughing as you tried to lunge at him, always just one step away from you.

You weren’t unathletic, but the boy had stamina on another level, because while you sweated and panted, hands on your knees, he only skipped in circles around you. “Hey,” the boy said. “Are you done already? Come on. Let’s play some more.”

How annoying! How super, super annoying! You gave a great yell as you jumped at him, and, startled, the boy couldn’t move away fast in enough time. The two of you crashed onto the floor, rolling and tumbling. You pulled at his hair and the boy grabbed at your cheeks.

“I’m back! Are you done with– Meguru? Kiddo?”

The two of you froze as Bachira-san stepped into the studio, a plate of cookies in her hand. The two of you watched her with big silent eyes as she surveyed the room. And, for the first time, you realized that you had knocked over some of her paint tubes and canvas, and the two of you were covered in streaks of paint and dust from the floor.

You sprang up as Bachira-san moved closer to the canvas you were supposed to paint on– the one her son had ruined. Your hands were clammy as you lowered your head, like a criminal readying for their punishment.

“Hey, nice artwork, kiddo,” Bachira-san said, breaking into a smile. “Very avante-garde.”

“He… he was the one who did it,” you mumbled, face heating up with shame, pointing at the boy– Meuguru– who was still on the floor. 

He stuck out his tongue. “I only helped!”

“Well, the both of you did a great job,” Bachira-san said. 

“Really…?” you mumbled, looking down at your black shoes, now scraped and scuffed from your scuffle across the floor. 

“Yes, really! Why don’t the two of you have some snacks?”

The three of you munched on cookies for the rest of the lesson as Bachira-san explained the color palette and different forms of art to you. Meguru gifted you the very last cookie with a beaming expression on his face as if you hadn’t tried to tear his hair out, and you thanked him quietly. 

During your next lesson, Meguru was waiting by the entrance of the studio. When he saw you, a goofy smile stole across his face, and he bounded towards you like a puppy.

“Here!” He thrust some flowers into your face. They were small and white, with five different petals. You took them gingerly. 

“What are these for?” you asked.

“For you! So we can be friends! I had a lot of fun with you last time, but you didn’t look really happy. Kaa-san said I have to be aware of other people’s feelings, so this is a ‘let’s be friends’ flower!” 

“You want to be friends with me?” you mumbled.

“Yup! No take backs,” Meguru added. “We’re friends for life now, okay?”

 “Are you sure?” you said. “Yesterday I was rude to you.”

“Were you?” Meguru tilted his head. “Does that matter?”

“I was. I’m sorry,” you said.

“We’re friends! So it’s okay. Hey, this time, you’ll play football with me, right?”

He grabbed your hand, and you carefully wrapped your fingers around his. For some reason, there was a strange fluttering in your chest. Why did holding Meguru’s hand feel a little different from holding your mom’s, or your friend’s hand at school? 

But all you know is this: ever since you took Meguru’s hand that day, you don’t think you’ve ever really let go.

–

You haven’t stepped foot in Japan for three years.

There’s always been an excuse not to: you were busy with studying. You had clubs and other activities. It would be too much of a hassle, and really, you wanted to enjoy every minute abroad you could get.

Your mom bought your excuses easily, so you never had to tell her the real reason you stayed away, the same reason you even bothered to study abroad in the first place: you didn’t want to be in the same country as Bachira Meguru.

But when your plane descends and jolts to a stop, when you pass through customs and scramble to find your luggage at the baggage claim, when you take that first wobbly step into the spring sunshine, squinting into the sky as you raise your hand to shield your eyes, you have no more excuses left. It’s like the universe won’t let you run away, because why the hell does Golden Week fall during the same week during your American spring break? Bachira is on break, same as you, so you can’t even use the excuse that he’s in school to avoid him. It’s a coincidence, or the universe is laughing at you for thinking you could get away so easily.

You pause to scroll through your phone; there’s a few messages from your mom, and an email from Thomas. You hover over the message with your thumb, before swiping away. You told him to email you if he needed you, since it’s not like he had Line or Whatsapp, but you didn’t think he’d actually go through with it.

Everyone is speaking in rushed Japanese around you. It’s a sea of people with black hair and black eyes and luggage and appointments and harried expressions, hurrying in every direction. This is home. America has never felt more far away.

You wander to the edge of the curb, phone still held loosely to your ear as a car pulls up. Your mom rolls down the side window, scarf around her throat and a grin wide on her face. “Hello, hello. Look who’s decided to show up on our side of the globe again.”

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” you acknowledge. 

The driver steps out to put your luggage in the trunk, and your mom rests her arm against the window. “How was your flight?”

“It was fine,” you say. “It’s not that far from California to Japan.”

“Perfect! So I assume you’ll be ready for dinner in a few hours?”

“Dinner?”

“Well, there’s this wonderful seafood restaurant I wanted to take Yu-san to, and Meguru-kun is free, so we planned our little get-together for today.” Your mom winks, but you feel as if someone pushed you off the airplane without a parachute. Actually, you’d have preferred that to whatever torture this is.

“Okaa-san, I can’t,” you protest, taking a step back. “I just got back. I’m tired. I–”

“Nonsense! It’s just some dinner. Aren’t you excited to see Meguru-kun?”

You force a queasy smile. “But I need to get ready. I want to shower and–”

“Then we can stop by home before we go to dinner. It’s not as if we’re going right now. Come, come. Hop in the car. The sooner we get back, the more time you’ll have to freshen up.”

The next few hours pass by in a weightless blur. You turn the water as hot as it can go and stand under the thundering steam until your fingers turn pruny. You pick out a tasteful outfit, decide you’re trying too hard, and settle for something casual, but then it feels like you’re not trying hard enough. This goes back and forth for half an hour until you throw on the first thing you picked out of your closet.

It almost feels like you’re getting ready for a date, and the thought makes you want to laugh hysterically.

When you’re done, you flop onto your bed and stare up at the ceiling. You haven’t been in this room for years, and there’s no dust, but it feels like a graveyard, a testament to a different time. There are faded patches of discolored paint on the wall where you once hung up photos of you and Bachira, and empty spots on your shelves where the plastic toys he won for you at summer fairs had once stood. You forgot where you put those old trinkets. They’re either shoved in a box in the back of your closet, or buried in a garbage heap.

Your mom calls your name. “Time to go! Are you ready?”

You’re not. You never will be, but you descend down the stairs and get into the car. You still feel weightless. Dread is the only thing propelling you forward, and it grows heavier with each passing step, weighing you down with its leaden mass.

The restaurant is all polished glass and cool blue tones, so you feel like you’re standing underwater when you step inside. The tablecloths are pressed, the menus so new and shiny you think you could cut yourself on their edges. You’re scurried off to a corner table, next to a painting of the ocean, layered with many painful shades of blue, the frothy white waves so textured you could lick it off like cream.

You order something. You’re not sure what, but the waiter is smiling at your choice.

“Yu-san is running a bit late,” your mom says, with her bright red lipstick which always looks elegant on her and never tacky. You feel childish, all of a sudden, trying to play at being a composed adult, next to her and her genuine enthusiasm for old family friends.

You hope Bachira and his mom never get here. Because of a traffic jam, perhaps. Or a sudden freak accident that cuts off their path, so they have to stay home. Or maybe they’ll just forget, and you can call the whole thing a wash.

“Ah, there she is! Yu-san! Meguru-kun!” Your mom waves wildly, her arm springing back and forth.

Against your will, you turn, biting the inside of your cheek hard. They’re both in street clothes, which sends a dull jolt of surprise through you, but then again, your old teacher has never been one for formalities. You focus hard on her instead of the boy next to her, never taking your eyes off her once as they both settle at the table. Your mom hugs Bachira-san, and they both giggle like schoolgirls. There’s paint on Bachira-san’s sleeves, faint splatters of red and blue and purple. Her hair is in a bun, pulled low.

She reaches out for you, and you melt into her embrace. She smells like paint, like salt water, with an artificial floral scent from her shampoo. “It’s been so long! You’ve gotten so much bigger. Have you been keeping up with your art?”

“I still sketch sometimes,” you say. “But I’ve been busy.”

Bachira-san laughs, a charming sound like windchimes. “Ah, so my lessons weren’t totally wasted! I’d love to see what you’ve been sketching. America has been nice to you, I see.”

You’ve chewed your cheek for too long. The sharp copper of blood fills your mouth like new pennies, and you manage to work your lips into the shape of a smile. “It’s been fun studying abroad.”

And then Bachira calls your name, and you feel like you’re fourteen again, getting your heart broken for the first time. “Hey, hey!” he says cheerfully. “Long time no see!”

You fight to maintain your smile. You can’t look him directly in the eye, so you look somewhere over his shoulder. Has his hair gotten longer? It looks like his mom had tried to tame his bangs with clips. “Hi. It has been a long time.” There. You even sound like you’re happy to see him.

Bachira and his mom order. She and your mom are drinking glasses of red wine, absorbed in their own world, so it’s just you and Bachira. He’s tearing his napkin into little pieces, a miniature blizzard that only grows in intensity with each ticking second. You’re both silent. Is he feeling just as nervous as you? Or are you the only one idiotically aware of the tension? Maybe he doesn’t even notice at all.

“Meguru-kun is on his school’s soccer team?” your mom asks suddenly, forcing the two of you to look at her. “That’s amazing! I heard you want to go to nationals.”

“Yup yup!” Bachira says. “It’s fun to play with everyone.”

“That’s great!” Your mom nudges you with her elbow. “This one over here is juggling a ton of different clubs in America, too. A math team, and a science one, and an art club on top of it, I think.”

Bachira is looking at you now. You stare hard at your glass of water, avoiding his eyes. The silence grows, stretching between the two of you, taut as a wire. Your mom looks back and forth between the two of you, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows.

You stand. “Okaa-san, I think I need a bit of a break. I’m still dizzy from my flight,” you say politely, flawlessly. You smile at Bachira-san and your mom, and throw a fuzzy look in Bachira’s direction.

“Are you? I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. Do you–”

“I just need some air,” you say, still smiling as you back away from the table. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”

You flee before anyone can respond, pushing through the doors and into the dizzying sunlight. It’s a coward’s move, but so what? You’ve never pretended to be strong. Your go-to is to put on a smile and smooth over any situation. It’s better not to rock the boat. It’s better to just keep everyone happy– but you can’t do that now. You can’t do this, not now, not in front of Bachira Meguru. 

You look up and down the streets, disoriented as you stumble to a stop. Where are you? The restaurant is at the end of the block, and you’ve somehow paced down the entire length of the street in your desire to escape. This is a high-end area with exclusive fashion stores and exorbitant restaurants, and their polished facades only make you feel smaller and uglier.

You sigh. Maybe it would be better to go home, to leave now before you worry anyone further. You would just ascribe all blame to your plane flight, and no one would be any wiser.

Just as you make up your mind, you see a figure blurring down the street, dashing at an impossibly high speed– a blur of yellow, no, a boy, running straight towards you– alarmed, you try to move to the side, but then he screeches to a stop right in front of you.

It’s Bachira. Shit shit shit— But then he abruptly spins around until all you can see is his back and the way his hair sticks up at the ends, perpetually untamable.

“What are you doing?” you say, irritated. Is this another one of his childish pranks?

“You don’t want to see me, right?” he says, more quietly than you thought he was capable of. 

“I–”

“This way, you won’t have to look at me. Is that okay?”

“So?” you say. “What you do has nothing to do with me.”

“Let’s talk.”

“I don’t want to,” you say petulantly. You flush; why does Bachira bring out your inner child? “There’s nothing for us to say,” you add more coldly.

“I miss you.” The world, in its perpetual motion, freezes for just an instant at his words. Planets stop their revolutions. The tectonic plates pause. Everything slows down, to this single moment in time and space.

You can only manage to faintly say, “So what?” The world resumes spinning again.

“I want to talk to you again,” he says. 

“I don’t care,” you say again.

“I’ll bug you if you don’t come see me again,” he says. “I’ll blow up your phone. I’m gonna send you a ton of mail. I’ll even go to your house and–”

“Stop!” you snap. “You sound like a stalker. Bachira, you know things can’t move backwards, right? We can only go forward. And I don’t want to act buddy buddy with you again.”

“One chance. Pleaseeee. Come on. If you talk with me just once, I won’t bother you again! I promise! Otherwise I’m going to call you! Every! Single! Day!”

You sigh. With the way Bachira is, you have no doubt that he would make good on his threat, no matter how childish or ridiculous he sounds right now. Just once. You could talk to him just once. Besides, this way, you could get rid of all your lingering feelings, and it’d be the same relief of a loose, bothersome baby tooth finally falling out of your mouth.

“Fine. I’ll see you just once. But!” you add, raising your voice before he can throw his hands up in the air in joy. “I decide when and where we will meet.”

“Yay!” Bachira whoops, waving his arms. “Let’s go back, then!”

“Go back where?”

“To the restaurant, duh. The food arrived. I was supposed to tell you that, actually. Oops!”

It would be so easy to just go home right now. But… you glance at the back of Bachira’s hair again. He’s grown taller. And despite his antsy movements, shifting back and forth on his feet, he still hasn’t turned back to look at you once, keeping his ridiculous promise.

“Fine. Lead the way,” you say grudgingly. Your steps feel light as you stare at Bachira, following him all the while, but he still doesn’t look back at you.

At the table, your mom smiles at you. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” you respond. The next time you look at Bachira, you finally meet him in the eye, and his smile lights up his face, just like it did when you were little, the sun rising to sweep the world in light and color.

–

Art lessons with Bachira-san quickly became your favorite thing in the world.

Maybe it was because she never demanded unerring perfection from you, nor did she treat you like a little doll. She delighted in every advancement you made with art, no matter how messy or imperfect. She treated you like you already had things worth saying, and listened to you babble about anything on your mind.

But as much as you loved those things, what you most loved about art lessons with Bachira-san was her son, Meguru.

At some point in the afternoon, he would inadvertently drag you away from your canvas for an adventure through the neighborhood. Bachira-san never seemed to care, and would even encourage you to leave your pastels behind and pick up a stick to be a sword, as long as you had finished drawing at least one thing that you liked.

So, in those perfect sunny afternoons, you would poke at bugs, digging worms out of the dirt and following ants back to their nest and lifting up rocks to watch rollie pollies curl up. You would climb trees, always trying to outrace each other and get to the tallest branch. You would pretend to be pirates and adventurers, clamoring up and down the slides on the park, searching for treasure.

Mostly, though, Bachira wanted to play football.

“You gotta kick it like this! And that!” he cheered, dribbling the ball back and forth between his feet in lithe, swift steps.

“Huh?” you said, trying to keep up with his movements. You always did well during your elementary school’s sports meet, but Meguru was on another level. 

“No, no! More like this!” Meguru said, and kicked the ball high in the air, only to catch it with his knee. 

“I’ll try,” you said. 

“Yay! Then let’s play a few games, okay?”

And you played, not because you particularly loved football, like Meguru did, but because you liked it when he smiled. You and Meguru. Meguru and you. Why would you need anything else? The boundaries of your world began and ended with his hand in yours.

Bachira-san would let him sit in on your lessons on slow days, too, even though he would invariably end up doodling on your canvas instead of his.

“Use your own paper, Meguru!” you retorted as Meguru scribbled a lumpy shadow onto the corner of your sketchpad. “This one is mine!”

“Eh? But we’re friends! So I can draw on yours!”

And then the two of you bickered playfully until you ended up doodling all over each other’s works, which Bachira-san then dubbed a “collaborative masterpiece,” and hung up the pictures side by side on a corkboard in her studio. It made your heart flutter to see the papers fluttering like friends.

Other times, Meguru would wander off in the middle of your lesson after drawing to his heart’s content, grabbing the football that was perpetually by his side.

“I’m done,” Meguru said, throwing down his colored pencil. There was a strange red creation on his page, some machine with a thousand different blue and green buttons and square windows. It had dragon wings and a boat’s rudder, and soared through scribbled stars and over choppy turquoise waves.

“What is that?” you asked him.

“A car that can fly across the ocean,” Meguru explained. “I’m gonna drive it up to pick up all my favorite football players, and there’s gonna be a stadium in it, and we’re all gonna play football together!”

“Can I come, too?”

“Duh! You can sit in the pilot seat with me. That’s why I made it so big,” he said, before dribbling his football out the studio door.

Even if he wandered off, Meguru would always rejoin the two of you on time for lunch. He had some sort of sixth sense for the moment Bachira-san started passing out snacks, peeking his head (sometimes with twigs or dirt scattered in his hair) around the studio door, cheerfully announcing, “I’m home!”

“Welcome back, Meguru! You’re just in time for a snack,” Bachira-san said, sweeping her hands at the row of pudding cups on the table. You were sitting quietly in a chair, posture straight, methodically scooping out every last bit of pudding with your spoon.

“Pudding! It’s pudding time,” Meguru exclaimed cheerfully at the sight of the snacks, running up to the table to snatch up several cups and a spoon in his chubby hands. 

“Meguru! Leave some for your friend!” Bachira-san scolded lightly, and Meguru would come running right back to you. 

“Here,” he said, dropping a cup in front of you.

Meguru could never sit still, so your eyes were inevitably drawn to him as he danced around the room, running from corner to corner and shoving pudding into his mouth so fast his cheeks puffed out like a small animal’s. Whenever he caught your eye he would stick out his tongue, and you would stick out your tongue in return. When there was only one pudding cup left on the table, you reached for it, before turning to Meguru. 

“Have this,” you said, handing him the pudding cup, which Meguru had been eying with a wide open mouth and sparkling eyes.

“Yay! Thanks!” he said. “Let’s share it!”

“I saved it for you, though.”

Meguru shook his head as he unpeeled the cap, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of the shiny, golden treat. “Well, I want you to have some, too.”

There was no better pudding in the world than the spoonfuls you had that day, Meguru graciously proffering the very last bite for you to eat. The memory of that sweetness resounded through your dreams. 

Even your mom had gotten used to your chattering about Meguru. He was your favorite topic, and nothing was ever quite as important or interesting as him. As soon as your mom’s car pulled up to the curb at the end of your lessons, you would clamber inside, your artwork for the day clutched tightly in your hands, and a new story about Meguru on your lips.

“Okaa-san, Okaa-san,” you said brightly. “Guess what Meguru did today?”

“Let me guess,” your mom said playfully as the driver pulled away from the curb. “The two of you played together?”

“Yup! This time, we pretended to be monkeys living in the trees! And then we got into a monkey war! And we threw a bunch of sticks at each other, and Bachira-san let us eat bananas for a snack! And we kept trying to peel them like monkeys, too.”

“How exciting! I didn’t realize I was taking a monkey home with me today,” your mom replied. “Are you having fun with your art lessons?”

“I’m having a lot of fun, Okaa-san. I’m learning a lot!” You squirmed in your seat. “Oh! But you have to hear about what Meguru did!”

You didn’t know if your mom ever got tired of you chattering on and on about Meguru. If she did, she never let it show, and she watched you with gentle eyes the whole time you talked. 

“You act differently around Meguru-kun,” she said.

“Is that bad?” you asked anxiously, suddenly alert.

She smiled. “No, not at all. Everyone has different sides to them. But I’m glad you’re good friends with him. You talk about him all the time.”

You fiddled with your fingers, feeling strangely pleased and shy all at once. Meguru always stirred unknown emotions in you. “I just like him a lot!”

“Enough to marry him?” your mom teased.

Your face brightened at her words; you hadn’t even realized that was an option. But it was such a great idea. If you married Meguru, then the two of you could be together forever. It just made a lot of sense; who else in the world would you rather spend your entire life with? No one else could compare to your best friend. If you lived in the same house, then you could have sleepovers everyday, and never be separated. “I do!”

Your mom laughed. “Does he want to marry you, though? You can’t decide that on your own!”

“He will if I ask him,” you explained. “He doesn’t say no to me.”

Your mom laughed even harder at that, tears springing to the corner of her eyes. “So he’ll do whatever you say? That sounds very sweet of him.” 

However, one memory from this period of time stood out to you, clearer than the rest. You would dream about it, taking it down from a shelf to blow off the dust and stare into its depths.

It was a hot spring day, about a year after you had started art lessons, and Meguru stumbled into the studio with bruises on his face and scrapes on his knees. He had been gone for most of the afternoon, which had disappointed you slightly, but you knew you would see him again. However, you never imagined it would be like this.

“Meguru!” You ran to him, watercolor brush dropping to the paint splattered floor, stopping to grab his shoulders in concern. “Are you okay? Do I need to get Bachira-san?”

Meguru shook his head, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “No.” 

“What happened?” you asked urgently. “You’re hurt!” 

Ushering him to a seat, you ran to the sink and grabbed a towel, running it under a gush of cold water, before returning and dabbing at Meguru’s wounds as gently as you could. Blood came away in thin streaks like paint. 

“Hey…” Meguru began quietly, in a small voice. He didn’t sound like the cheerful boy you knew, the one who was never phased and bounced off from every mistake and accident with a bright smile. It reminded you a little of how, when you were driving home after lessons, you would peek back at Meguru. His figure looked a little lonely outlined against the sunset, as he bounced a soccer ball quietly to himself. 

“What is it?” You ran back to the sink, where you opened the cabinet underneath it to fish out some bandaids. 

“We’re friends, right?” Meguru asked. 

“Huh? Where’s this coming from? Of course we are. What else would I be?” 

Meguru looked down at his knees as you slapped a bandaid on his skinned knees without a complaint. 

“So you don’t think I’m weird, right?” he said, and his lips quivered with each word. “You’re not gonna leave me?” 

“You’re not weird,” you said firmly. It occurred to you, then, that Meguru never talked about anyone in his life outside of you and Bachira-san. You hadn’t seen him with any other kids your age, either. Maybe you were his whole world, in the same way he was yours. “You’re my best friend, and I would never leave you. If you’re worried about it, then we could get married.” 

“Married?” Meguru peeked at you from under the fringe of his bangs. 

“So we can be together forever,” you explained. 

Meguru smiled, just a little, a wobbly uplifting of his mouth. “Okay! Pinky-promise me, then! We’re gonna get married.”

You lifted up your hand and, with all the clumsy reverence of a child, locked pinkies with Meguru. You shook once, twice, and then let go, as if this was a ceremony as solemn as a real wedding. 

“What happened, though, Meguru? Are you sure it’s okay if I don’t get Bachira-san?” 

Meguru shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Because we have each other, right?” 

You beamed at him, sunshine spilling in your chest, a golden glow. “Right. We’ll always have each other!”

–

Over the next few days, Bachira’s promise hangs over you like a darkening cloud, slowly threatening rain. 

It’s not like you forgot what you told him. You would contact him, eventually. But there was a time and place for everything, and this required more delicate care than anything you’ve undertaken so far. Besides, when you look at your phone screen, you feel a flush of embarrassment. You’ve never been able to bring yourself to block Bachira’s contact, and you still know his number by heart. 

When you first moved to America, a small, foolish part of you thought that he would contact you eventually. He would come running back to you, unable to stand the distance any longer. In your most unbearable, romantic daydreams, he would fly over to California and beg you to go home to Japan with him. But the weeks passed, and you entertained desperate thoughts each time you saw the lack of notifications on your phone screen.

You should message him first. No, you should call him. Or call Bachira-san instead, and learn more about Bachira through her. Or you could show up at one of his football games, and Bachira would be overcome by emotion and throw his arms around you and everything would be repaired, as easy as that. 

But your dreams were nothing compared to the overwhelming silence of reality. No, it was better to find a way to bury the memory of Bachira, and find someone else. There were so many people in the world, and maybe you had been too distracted to realize that, out there, there was someone more perfect and wonderful for you. That’s how you found yourself dating Thomas, accepting his confession without a second thought.

You’re reminded of that time as your fingers hover over Bachira’s icon now, sitting cross-legged on your bed. Keep it simple. A short message. 

Are you free to meet up today? I think we should go to the park near your house.

Not even a few seconds later, your phone dings.

yes!!!!!!! heading over now :3

Now? You aren’t even ready! Is your outfit good? What about your appearance? Your hands flutter nervously. You could be over at the park in a matter of minutes if you took the car, but… Wait. Why are you worrying over this sort of thing again? Why do you still care so much about his opinion? Knowing Bachira, it’d all be the same to him whenever you showed up in a trash bag or a thousand dollar suit. He’s never been one to care much for appearances. 

Your phone buzzes again, and you whip it up to your face. It’s not a message from Bachira, but an email from Thomas. Your heart lunches as you open it to read a simple message asking about your trip, and if you’ve been well. 

You’ve forgotten entirely about him. Instead, you’ve been thinking only of Bachira. Sure, you’re technically not dating Thomas right now, but why does it still make you feel so guilty?

You made a note to yourself to message Thomas back later. You can only handle one thing at a time right now, and Bachira is the major agenda on your list. It only takes a few minutes for you to make your way to the park, agonizingly short and slow at the same time, as if time is warping around you.

Bachira is sitting on one of the swings, twisting the metal chains in spirals and letting go slowly, so he twists in dizzying loops. The air is soft, perfumed with the scent of newly flowering trees, white petals falling like pale rain.

You pause just outside the entrance. He hasn’t noticed you yet. When did Bachira grow taller? He’s always had a round face, but puberty has melted the last of his baby fat away. His hair, at least, is as messy as ever, strands curling in every direction away from his face, his wild bangs held in check by a few clips clinging to remain on. 

The worst part is that you know him still, that you will always know him. That you would recognize him even under a different name or if you had been struck blind and deaf. You would know him by your touch alone, by scent, by taste. The very space Bachira occupies is left changed by his presence, and you could chase his lingering trails for the rest of your life. 

“Bachira,” you greet, walking slowly to where he’s still twisting in circles. You grab the chains, jerking him to a sudden stop, and he tilts his head up to look at you as he sways back and forth on the swings, your shadow falling across his face. 

“Hey, hey, hey! You’re here!” 

You nod. Your voice has fled in Bachira’s presence, and all you can do is drink him in.

“I missed you,” Bachira says.

“We met a few days ago.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says. “I meant I missed you the whole time you were gone from Japan! I thought of you the whole time.”

You finally manage to unstick your voice. “Why didn’t you text me?”

“Because you told me not to. You were so mad at me. I didn’t want to make you madder.”

“Did you think I hated you?” you say. 

“You didn’t?” he says quietly.

“I…” you begin, then clear your throat. “I could never hate you.”

Bachira kicks at the ground. “Then why didn’t you text me?” he says, echoing your question.

“I was mad, Bachira. I…”

“You said we were best friends.”

You blink. Once, twice. “I did. I didn’t lie to you.”

“Then are we still best friends?”

“I…” You duck your head so he can’t see your face. “It’s been so long. And…” You can’t forget what happened in middle school. You can’t return to the way your relationship used to be, when you were children, and the world was simple, and uncomplicated. Why did he look at you like the two of you could? “It’s different now.” 

“I always thought you were my best friend,” he says plaintively. “That’s never changed.” 

“Then in middle school, why did you…” You chew the tender flesh of your cheek. 

When you were in America, you had fantasized about what you would say to him, how you would redo your argument and say the right words to strike home. You had thought about running into him again, and how the perfect speech would flow from your mouth, conveying all your feelings, mending whatever had broken all those years ago. In angrier times, you thought about hitting right where it hurt, your words like a sword, and you, the perfect, righteous victim. Now, though? Now your sentences come in bits and pieces, awkward and stilted, breaking under his gaze. 

“Why did you do that to me, Bachira?” you continue quietly. “Do you think we can go back to the way we were before, just like that?”

A buzz emanates from your pocket. Grateful for the distraction, you drop your grip from the swings. There are imprints of the chain links on your palm as you swipe open your new notification.

“Is it your mom?” Bachira asks.

You squint at the bright email on your phone. “No. It’s from my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” There’s a strange quaver in Bachira’s voice.

“My boyfriend. In America,” you add. “He plays football, too, and he drives me to places.” You feel mean then, your heart shriveling into something small and petty. You hadn’t intended to lie about Thomas, who was just your ex, but the lie feels good as you drink in Bachira’s lost gaze, eyes wide and shimmering with unspoken emotions. 

“I’m qualified to make nationals for football,” Bachira says, that odd tone still in his voice. 

“So is my boyfriend,” you add. The football season in America had just started, but Bachira didn’t need to know that. 

“Cars are overrated. I just walk everywhere. It helps me become a better player,” Bachira adds. 

“I should probably go so I can respond to him,” you say, waving your phone, ambling slowly towards the park entrance. Bachira’s gaze never leaves your phone.

Bachira kicks hard at the ground, shoes digging into the angry dirt. “So you like him, then? You like him a lot?” 

“Bachira.” Your gaze bores into him. A breeze, sweet with the scent of flowers, ruffles his hair. “The way we are now, I don’t think you have the right to question me.” 

He flinches, spinning the swing into motion, as if he can fly far from your words. But he’s only going back and forth in one direction, legs kicking at the sky. 

You watch him for a while longer. All the anger drains out of you then. What is it that you came back here for, anyways? What are you looking for? What do you want? If growing up is going to be so painful, then maybe Bachira is right. You should have remained the way you once were, just the two of you. 

–

By pulling some strings and begging your mom, you were able to get into the same public middle school as Meguru. The plan initially had been to send you to a fancy prep school overseas for both middle and high school, but you rebelled and pleaded, threatening to run away and to ruin the family reputation. 

“I’ve never seen you cry so hard,” your mom teased. “From the way you were acting, I might as well have been torturing you. I didn’t realize you hated the idea of studying abroad so much.” 

Your face burned at her words. “I’m sorry, Okaa-san.”

“Don’t be. It was cute. You hardly ever act like that, so it was nice to see.” She slid a sly smile at you. “But I wonder… is there a particular reason you wanted to go to this middle school?” 

You shook your head vehemently. “No! Not at all!” 

“Really? Not even for a certain little cute friend of yours?” your mom continues. 

“Okaa-san!” you protested, and she threw up her hands in surrender. 

When you started middle school with Meguru in the spring, though, it hadn’t been like what you expected. For starters, there was always a sea of people around you, pushing Meguru away like he was a piece of kelp set adrift on the tide. You knew how to make friends; how to smile just so, or to reply in the right lulls in the conversation to keep it going. But Meguru was always in a corner by himself. Even when you invited him over, your classmates would smile awkwardly at his nonchalant comments, or find reasons to drift away.

“He’s weird,” one of your classmates confided in you, one hand cupped around her mouth. “He talks to himself sometimes, and he never pays attention in class. He’s not a bad guy, but… he should try to fit in more.”

She looked expectantly at you, as if offering you a gift. You backed away from her instead, your own smile strained. “I see. But I like Meguru the way he is. He’s not doing anything wrong, and I don’t see why he has to change.” 

Regardless of how the other students treated Meguru, though, you were determined not to let it affect you.

You were the only one to greet him in the hallways, and to sit by him during lunch. In the warm weather, the two of you would sit side by side in a secluded corner of the classroom, or try to find a place to sit outside under the shade of some trees. You walked home with him (because he preferred to dribble his football on the way, instead of taking a ride in your car), and walked to school with him, asking the driver to drop you off in front of his house. You dragged Meguru to study with you, somehow pulling him through each exam by the skin of his teeth, because you refused to imagine a situation in which the two of you wouldn’t be in a class together. Your classmates started joking that if they wanted to find you, all they had to do was call Meguru’s name, and you would pop up expectantly. 

It was shaping up to be a good three years of middle school. You would graduate on time at this rate, and go to high school together. The only issue, though, was something that took place during the start of your third year of middle school. A classmate of yours had asked you to meet him after school, surrounded by two of his friends who grinned and elbowed him as he rubbed his neck, refusing to look you in the eye. 

You didn’t think much of it at the time. When you showed up at the classroom, he turned to you with a sudden desperation, face red, and bowed. 

“Please go out with me!” he said. “I’ve had a crush on you for the past two years!” 

“Huh?” You gripped the straps of your bag tighter. “You… you like me?”

He bowed even more deeply at your confused tone. “Is it no good? Do you not feel anything for me?”

“I’m flattered, but I don’t like you in that way. I’m sorry,” you said gently. 

The boy groaned. “I knew it. It’s because of Bachira, right? The two of you are always together. I don’t stand a chance against him.” 

“Because of Meguru?” you repeated. 

The boy nodded. “You like each other, right? It’s obvious. Man, I shouldn’t have tried to get in between that.”

You couldn’t find the words to deny him or to fix the misunderstanding, even after the two of you parted. You and Meguru? Of course you liked him. He was your best friend. 

But you couldn’t let go of that boy’s words. You mulled over them, again and again. Like clothes that no longer fit quite right, your relationship with Meguru had changed shape before you had noticed. Somehow, that boy was the first to notice.

You always waited for Meguru to finish soccer practice, no matter how late it ran. Sometimes you had student council duties, or you would just sit cross-legged and work on your homework as he ran around the field. You’d done this for all three years of middle school, and the entire team knew you by name. The coach would jokingly ask if you were okay if you ever missed a day of practice, calling you an honorary member of the team. 

Today was no different, and you made your way to the soccer field to wait for him. Without fail, when Meguru finished, the first thing he did was whip his head around, looking for you. As soon as he did, he made a beeline straight to you, without a care in the world. 

He threw his arms around you from behind, causing the two of you to tumble into the grass. You shrieked, and he laughed, and you were a tangled pile of clinging limbs and grass stains.

It’s what he did. It’s what he was like. So why did your heart burst like a thousand butterflies into flight, reacting to his touch? He’s always been touchy. Your classmate was getting in your head. 

“There you are!” Meguru said, looping his arms around your neck, heedless of who was watching, even if the team was used to his antics. “Let’s go home now!”

When he nuzzled his head into your shoulder, you couldn’t move, skin hot wherever he touched you. 

“Okay, let’s go home, Meguru,” you said softly.

As soon as you went home, you sprinted past your mom to leap onto your bed and hug your pillow. You liked Meguru. You liked him so much, and it was so obvious now. It was the most natural stage for your relationship to progress to. Maybe you had always liked him, and you just didn’t have the words for it until now. Meguru had always been the most special person in the world to you, and that idea had simply taken on a new shade of meaning.

He had promised to be with you forever, hadn’t he? And Meguru would never break a promise to you.

You were careful not to let Meguru know your feelings over the following months. It would be embarrassing if he discovered them so soon, especially when it had taken you so long to realize them. But everyday after you went home, you would list all the things he had done that day, like touching your hand and hugging you, and calling your name three different times during history class. Everything about him felt so much more special now. 

You liked him. You liked him so much. And you had to do something about it before graduation. As the months dripped by like water falling from a melting icicle, you planned when to make your move: on the most romantic day of the year. 

During Valentine’s Day, you splayed your bandaged fingers across your desk in anticipation, your gift wrapped neatly in your backpack.

It had taken you all week to make the chocolates, which you had painstakingly molded into chocolate hearts. Since it was the first Valentine’s in which you were giving someone chocolate, you had delicately filled each heart with different fruit flavored jams– strawberry, orange, and even pineapple, Meguru’s favorite. The chocolates were nestled in a bag of pink cellophane and white tissue paper, with a red ribbon neatly tied in a bow on top. You had refused help from everyone, even the chef and your mom, because it was more special if you did it by yourself. 

You hadn’t been able to stop bouncing in your seat all morning, nervous energy thrumming through you as the teacher’s history lecture went in one ear and out the other. The chocolates burned like a secret in your school bag, and you couldn’t resist fiddling with the zipper, constantly sliding it down to make sure the gift was still there.

When lunch finally rolled around, like an anxious puppy, you jumped out of your seat and headed straight to Meguru, who was sleeping, his head buried in his arms and doodles scattered across his notebooks like stars.

“Meguru,” you said, shaking his shoulder. “Meguru, wake up. Class is over.”

“Uh?” Meguru blinked one slow, sleepy eye at you, before stretching. “It is?”

“Yes. I have something to show you,” you emphasized. “It’s a surprise.”

“What is it?” He sat up, staring at you expectantly. 

You glanced around the classroom; only a few people were still in their seats, eating homemade lunches and chatting with their friends, heads bent over magazines or phones. Reaching in your bag, you fumbled for the chocolates, hands trembling as you presented them to Meguru.

“Chocolate? Wow, thanks!” His eyes lit up as he reached for the bag, untying it and shaking a few of the hearts into his hand. He popped them in his mouth, his lips curling up in bliss. “These are so good!”

“I made them myself,” you explained shyly. “It took a while, but… I wanted to do something special for you, Meguru.”

He stuffed another chocolate into his mouth. “Thanks! You’re the best friend ever!”

Your face twitched at his choice of words, but you still plowed on. “Well… These aren’t just any chocolates, you know? Do you remember what day it is?”

“Uh…”

“It’s Valentine’s,” you supplied impatiently. “So, um…”

“These are friendship chocolates?” Meguru asked, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk.

“No.” Your hands were clammy now. It was just Meguru. Meguru, who you’ve known forever. Meguru, who promised to be by your side. Meguru, who understood you more than anyone else in the world. Why were you so afraid? He’d never hurt you.

“Can I share these with my mom?” Meguru continued innocently. “I think she’d love ‘em, too.”

“No!” Meguru stared at you, and your cheeks burned. “Sorry. I can make some for Bachira-san later. But these are special, Meguru. They’re… they’re not friendship chocolates.”

A sudden hush descended over the classroom. You were on a stage, a bright, hot spotlight beaming down on you and making your neck sweat. This wasn’t anything like what you read about how confessions went in shoujo manga. Meguru’s clueless eyes burned into you, and it was like he didn’t understand the script you were trying to read for him.

Meguru ate another heart, gnashing it beneath his teeth. “Eh? What other kind of chocolate can they be?”

You forced the words out. “They’re… they’re romantic.  I’m confessing to you. I like you, Meguru.”

Your breathing was shallow, and your heart beat like a frightened animal. You couldn’t look at him anymore, and the heaviness of your words dropped like stones onto the floor. 

“Oh. Um… I’m sorry.” The awkwardness in Meguru’s voice was too much. You backed away from his desk, tears burning at the corner of your eyes. When you looked up, you could see your classmates, feigning disinterest as they purposefully avoided your gaze. 

You burst out of the classroom, ignoring the sound of Meguru’s chair screeching back as he yelled after you, “Wait!”

You were fast, but Meguru was faster. You skidded down the steps wildly, taking several at a time, and you were half down the landing when Meguru caught up to you. He called your name at the top of the stairs, but you refused to look back– and then, he landed in front of you, breathing heavily, shirt sleeves rolled up. He had jumped down an entire flight of stairs to catch up to you. 

Meguru called your name. “Wait! Wait, wait.”

You turned your head away, but you could still sense Meguru in front of you. Your childhood friend. Your best friend. You had drawn hearts around his name in the back of your notebook this morning.

“What is it?” you said softly. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe Meguru had just been surprised, and now he would confess his feelings.

 It was a joke, right?” he said uncertainly. “You were joking. It was a weird joke, but–”

“I wasn’t joking!” you yelled, shoving him backwards with a wild strength that surprised you. You haven’t been this mad at him since you first met. 

Meguru stumbled back a few steps, watching you with wide eyes. It was an expression you hadn’t seen on him before: confused, lost, and afraid. Shouldn’t you be the one making that face?

“Okay. Um. It’s just weird if our relationship changes like that. You and me? That’s kinda weird,” he said again. “We’re friends! I don’t want to be anything else.”

You dug your nails into the meat of your palm until the pain was all you could think about. “I don’t want to be friends.”

“Huh?” Now Meguru looked even more afraid.

“I like you, Meguru,” you said, a broken sob in your voice. “I can’t just be friends with you. I…”

Meguru stepped closer to you. There was a starburst of hope in your chest, before it was dashed by Meguru dropping your Valentine’s Day chocolate in your hands. You curled your fingers over the hearts, crushing them in your palm.

“I don’t want to do this,” Meguru mumbled. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear anything, okay?”

“You’re a coward,” you said furiously, pushing all your hurt into your voice. You weren’t sad. You weren’t going to cry. Not especially in front of him. “I– I don’t want to see you again. Don’t talk to me. You liar! You said you would always be by my side!”

When you looked down the stairs, you could see a few of your fellow students, awkwardly hovering near the bottom of the landing. They averted their gazes when they met your eyes, but your whole body felt hot with rage and embarrassment. How many people had seen and heard the two of you? By tomorrow, everyone in school would probably be gossiping about how you were rejected by Meguru.

You ran. You ran, and this time, Meguru didn’t stop you as you jumped down the stairs. Somehow, you made your way home. You started listlessly at your phone, but there was no message from Meguru. You had been the one to tell him not to contact you, but… you threw your phone onto your bed.

Stupid Meguru. Stupid you. It had never occurred to you that Meguru might not feel the same way as you. You had been so arrogant, so certain that he liked you, and now you had embarrassed yourself in front of the whole school. 

Did he forget? He promised to marry you. But that had been on a childish whim of his, no doubt, something he had long forgotten. You buried your head in your arms, and cried until you could drown the entirety of Chiba in your tears.

When your mom came home that night, a frown was brewing on her face, but the sight of your puffy eyes and hoarse voice stopped her lecture.

“What happened?” she asked you. “The school called me. You skipped classes.” 

You shook your head. “I want to study abroad for high school.”

“What? Are you sure? You were so excited to go to school with Meguru-kun. The process would be–”

“I don’t care,” you said. His name stung your heart. “I want to go to America, Okaa-san. Please.”

She peered at you closely, then sighed. “Okay. Okay, let’s talk about this later. But if you really want to, then it’s not too late to make it happen.” 

For the rest of your time until graduation, you avoided Meguru. You didn’t text him. When you saw him in the halls, you turned around and went a different way. You stuck closely to your other friends, and went home right away whenever you didn’t have any extracurriculars. You no longer visited the football field after school. 

No one was cruel enough to talk about your confession to your face, but you could feel the glances, hear the whispers, until everyone lost interest and moved on to the next piece of gossip.

A part of you expected Meguru to come running to you, but he quietly kept out of your way. Maybe he was avoiding you, just as much as you were avoiding him. What an odd thought; Meguru had always been the first to whine when you had to leave to visit your grandparents for the summer. He was the one who always threw his arms around you. Maybe your relationship hadn’t meant that much to him after all.

When it came time for you to move to America, you and Meguru graduated middle school without talking to each other at all. 

–

For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to talk to Thomas about Bachira.

In fact, you haven’t told any of your American friends about Bachira. You spent the first year in California trying to forget him, blindly agreeing to go on dates with any boys who showed interest in you. But their love for you was never greater than your own lack of it. Thomas is only the most recent one and you follow his lead, not out of loyalty, but convenience. 

You keep your thoughts held tight to your chest, precious secrets that you refuse to let spill out of your grasp. With everyone in your life, sometimes even your mom, you have always put up a front. The only person you didn’t do that with was with Bachira. 

Bachira is an open wound, one that grows bigger with every year, overwhelming you with its enormity and the way pressing on it still makes you ache. Your friends would laugh if you told them you were hanging on to a boy for so long, nursing this pain like your own child. They wouldn’t understand, and you would look pathetic in their eyes. There are no words in English or Japanese to describe what he means to you. His hold on you is as eternal as the way the flowers bloom during the spring, and the world revolves on its axis. 

The rest of spring break passes in a flash. You hardly run into Bachira anymore, and your mom doesn’t force any more meetings. You email Thomas, who responds with boyish enthusiasm even at your dry answers. 

The night before your morning flight, you rush up and down the stairs, sorting your various toiletries and stuffing clothes into your suitcase. 

“All ready?” your mom asks you, nursing a mug of tea at the counter, watching you bustle.

“Yes, Okaa-san,” you say obediently. She holds open her arms, and you stop by for a hug, her arms enveloping you. She runs a hand in circles along your back, humming to herself.

“You’re such a good child,” she says affectionately. “Come visit me again soon. I’ll be lonely without you.”

“Okay.”

“And…” She pulls back to peer into your eyes. “You’re a little too good to me. You should try to be more wild. Rebel, so I can throw up my hands in exasperation at you and complain to all my friends.” 

“I’ll try, so you have something to talk about with your coworkers,” you say, and she pinches your nose. 

“Don’t try. Just do it,” she scolds. “I’ll always forgive you for any silly mistakes you make.”

“Okay, Okaa-san,” you say. “If I break a law, I’ll let you know in advance to prepare my bail.” 

She smiles sadly. “You’re so old now. I wish you wouldn’t get hurt in life, but I can’t fix everything for you.” 

“The world isn’t that nice,” you agree. 

“You haven’t talked to Meguru-kun recently,” she says gently. “Did something happen?” 

You stiffen, your face shuttering closed. “We’re okay. We’re just busy.” 

She stirs the tea in her mug. “Okay. I won’t push you any further. Your life is yours to live. But I’ll always be here for you, if you need me.” 

She leans in to kiss you on the forehead, and you want to cry. From the way she hesitates, you know she wants to say something else, but she simply lets you go.

How long has your mom suspected that your relationship with Bachira isn’t as pleasant as you pretend it is? You rub your forehead as you rush upstairs, dumping the last of your items into your suitcase. You sit on top of it to force it closed as you start zipping up the side, when your phone buzzes.

Bachira? No, it’s Thomas. The header of the email causes you to drop your phone in surprise.

About our relationship…

You pick up your phone, skimming the email.

Can we get back together? You read. I miss you.

How fickle. He was the one who broke up with you, and now he wants to get back together right away as soon as it’s convenient. That might not be a bad idea, though. A relationship where you knew what was expected from you, a simple transaction, would be easy. 

Your phone buzzes again; it’s an incoming call. You stare at the caller ID for a few seconds, your surprised face reflected in the screen, before you answer, pressing the phone close to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Bachira says. “I’m outside.”

“What?”

“I’m outside your door,” he repeats. “Can you come outside? If not, I’ll come in.”

“Why are you here?” You stand, heart pounding. 

“Kaa-san told me you were leaving tomorrow,” Bachira says. “So I wanted to stop by.”

“Bachira…”

“Just for a little bit,” he persists. “That’s all you need to do.”

You sigh. “All right, fine. But only for a few minutes, okay?”

You hang up, pulling on a light jacket before you’re flying down the stairs, trading your house slippers for flip flops, and burst into the cool night air. The sun is setting, painting the sky in vibrant swatches of peaches and reds. There’s a cool breeze, sweet with the scent of new growth.

Bachira is leaning outside your family gate, a football tucked under his arm.

“What is it?” you ask him tersely, shoving your hands in your jacket pockets.

“You’re going back to America?” he says.

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“When will you come back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go to university there,” you reply. You had planned to come back for summer break to see your mom, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Okay.” Bachira looks at the ground. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Why do you want to know about him?”

“Do you like him?”

“I… Sure,” you say, but it sounds weak, even to your own ears. “We’re on break right now because he’s busy with football season, but we’re thinking about getting back together,” you add more strongly, and Bachira kicks at the ground.

“He sounds like a jerk. Why’d he break up with you if he just wants to get back together whenever he wants?”

“At least he’s clear with his intentions,” you say sharply. “And he doesn’t run away.” 

Bachira flinches, but it doesn’t make you feel as good as it should have. “... Shouldn’t…” he mumbles. 

“What?” You tilt your head to catch his words.

“You shouldn’t get with him again,” Bachira says, still kicking at the ground like he would dribble his football. 

“Why not?” You laugh, short and bitter. “How is that your business, Bachira? It’s not like you’re my boyfriend. We’re not even— we’re not even friends anymore.” 

No response. What did you expect? 

“I’m tired of this, okay?” you say softly. “All this stupid back and forth. We keep going in circles. If all we’re going to do is hurt each other, then let’s just end this here.”

Bachirs looks up at you finally, his gaze full of so much desperation and uncertainty. His chin trembles as he says, “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, more serious than you’ve ever heard him. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I rejected your confession. I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

Bachira might as well have stabbed you. “Do you think that’s going to fix things? You’re sorry? Now? After all this time? What’s that going to fucking fix?” you say, your voice rising with each word you spit out. 

“You didn’t call me, either,” Bachira says quietly. You flinch at the raw hurt in his voice, his overwhelming sadness. “You’re the one who just left without a word. You’re the one who ignored me. You were my only friend. You were my best friend.”

You chew your lip hard. Were. Not are. “I couldn’t face you anymore,” you say. 

“I thought our friendship was stronger than that,” he says.

“I guess it wasn’t.” 

“Do you really not want to be friends anymore?” 

“What do you think? You want us to go back to how we were before and pretend nothing happened? It’s too late. Everything has changed. There’s no going back,” you spit. “You broke my heart. I… I loved you.”

“Then why did you just leave so easily? If you loved me?” Bachira asks. “You ran away and didn’t even try.” 

“I could ask you the same,” you snap. “Just tell me it’s over. Okay? Reject me for good.”

“I can’t.” 

“Why not? It was so easy for you before.”

“Because I love you,” Bachira says desperately.

It’s the world’s cruelest joke. Bachira reaches an uncertain hand towards you, and you jerk back, tears rolling down your face and blurring your vision. He can’t touch you. If he does, you’ll break apart. “Don’t lie,” you say. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m not lying. I didn’t want to admit it before,” he says. “When you told me you liked me, I was scared by how I felt.” 

“Stop it.”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he says. “Things were changing so fast. You were my only friend, and if you liked me, then we couldn’t ever go back to being just friends.” 

“So you’re doing this to me now?” you say. The tears are still falling, and you hug yourself. You feel so weak and so young, all your surety stripped away. “You think you can do this to me?” 

I’m sorry,” he says. 

“You lost me either way,” you snap, “when you broke my heart like that.” 

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt, and I’m sorry I pushed you away.” 

You give a strangled laugh. “Really?”

“You don’t have to like me,” he says. “You can be as mad as you want. If you gotta go to America, that’s fine. If you– wanna be with someone else, too, if you don’t love me, that’s okay. We don’t even have to be friends, if you hate me. Just– can I please– can I love you? Is that okay? I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You’re so mean, Meguru,” you whisper. You can’t go forward until you confront him. You can’t go back because it’s impossible. Your fate has always been twisted by the boy in front of you.

You grab the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric in your hands savagely, as you press your lips against his. It’s a short kiss, salty with the taste of your tears, and Bachira is too surprised to kiss you back. 

“Eh?” Bachira asks dazedly.

“You piss me off,” you say. 

“Uh?”

You take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Meguru. I’m sorry I left you alone and that I ran away from you and that I gave up so easily. I was scared, okay? But… I never hated you. Ever.”

“You called me Meguru,” Meguru breathes. And then he throws his arms around your neck. 

“You’re so clingy,” you complain, hesitantly wrapping your arms around his back. You’ve missed his warmth, familiar and pleasant and gentle. “Didn’t you hear what I said?” 

“Sort of!”

“Pay attention!” 

“Okay. Well, let’s start over from the beginning, then,” he says. “We can do it again this time, and do it better.” He pulls back from you, clearing his throat. “Hi, I’m Bachira Meguru! It’s nice to meet you,” he says goofily, sticking out his hand.

“Hi.” You take his hand, giving it one shake, introducing your name. “Let’s… let’s be friends.”

“We can’t date?” Meguru asks, pouting, and you frown at him. 

“No. Not now,” you acknowledge. “I have to talk to Thomas properly about how I feel. And I’m going back to America tomorrow. And there’s so much that I have to sort through—”

Meguru leans in and kisses you mid-sentence, a quick, butterfly of a kiss that steals all the words from you. “We’ll be friends for now. And if you want, then we can try dating. And even marriage.”

“Married?” you sputter. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“You did,” he says nonchalantly. 

“From when we were kids,” you point out. 

“Eh? Does that matter? We promised, so we have to follow through on it.”

“Don’t tell me you were going to propose to me.”

“In the future,” he says. “We can’t get married before we’re adults.”

“Meguru,” you say slowly. “Were you seriously planning on proposing to me? Before even asking my opinion?” 

“What’s wrong with that? I thought you liked romantic stuff. Isn’t that romantic?” 

You grit your teeth. You move to grab his shoulders, but Meguru dodges your grasp and slides backwards. You lunge at him again, but he dances out of your way.

“Come back here, Bachira Meguru,” you yell. “Do you have any common sense?”

“Who needs that?” he says cheerfully.

It feels like your first meeting as kids, so long ago. No one else in the world can quite make you feel this way, for better or for worse. Frustrated, you chase after Meguru as he weaves out of your grasp and hops down the length of the sidewalk. This goes on for a little bit, and just when you’ve run out of steam, Meguru spins around. Before you can move, he leaps at you and gathers you into a hug, his arms around your waist.

“Meguru, cut it out,” you say, annoyed, but you don’t move out of his grasp.

“Hmm…” he says. “I’ve decided! I’ll come visit you in America!”

“What?”

Meguru nods to himself, satisfied. “It’ll be fun! I’ve never been out of the country before! Hey, do you think I could fit in your suitcase?”

“Obviously not!”

You take a deep gulp of the spring air, sweet in your mouth, the flowering trees sending a blessing of pink petals over you. You and Meguru. Meguru and you. It’s just like when the two of you were little, only you’re starting over this time. Nothing would ever be the same again, but what new things could you build instead? What sort of people would you be now? 

You hold out your hand to Meguru. He takes it easily, interlacing your fingers like he’s always belonged there. With his touch, an endless world of possibilities unfolds before you. This time, the two of you will explore it together.

'cat' the son | itoshi rin

( a/n ) when i came back the poll was 50/50 so i got bribed and it’s now decided that rin is the winner + little highschool au bc we all know they dropped out:/ idk what to title this im ngl

there’s a cat on the sidewalk.

you have about six dollars in your hand, a faltering mission to treat yourself to a cold drink, and an aching heart at the sight of the little animal seated like a king on concrete, looking up at you with blank eyes.

its dark fur and near-teal eyes remind you of someone. of a back facing your seat, dark hair always kept neat and looking like it’s conditioned meticulously, and the sharpest eyes you have ever seen on a high schooler.

it has been a long day, long enough for you to have stormed out of the room as soon as classes ended to rush to the nearest shop that would sell what you’re craving. alas, there is a cat on the sidewalk, and you can’t just ignore it.

“stay here, kitty,” you say before rushing off with the six dollars in hand and a new goal to head straight to the nearest sign with an animal cardboard cutout printed on it.

eventually, you find one; eventually, you come out of the store holding cat food and a tiny cat bowl because you were worried about letting the cat eat straight from the can. it’s baby blue with little fishes added as design, though you think it’s rather gruesome to put that there, considering the canned food you bought is made from fish. still, you hope the cat will appreciate it.

the cat is still there as if it’s understood and blessed you with patience. the unimpressed look it has on its face says otherwise, though. grateful, you kneel beside it, slightly mesmerized by the fact that it hasn’t run away yet.

maybe other people are feeding it, too? it doesn’t look worryingly thin. needs a little cleaning, but looks well-fed. you’re relieved.

“here you go,” you coo, ignoring the strange looks of the passersby. you place the bowl down and crack open the can. the smell has the cat walking over, meowing all crankily. “i know, i know.”

the cat doesn’t dig in until you’ve finished shaking off its contents, staring at you in the same way the itoshi guy in your class would. the resemblance is uncanny.

you spend the rest of your afternoon keeping the cat company. its face speaks as if it’s far from amused, but the way it rubs against your ankle contradicts it.

cute. the cat is cute.

another student comes to visit the cat, carrying two cans of cat food. it’s been sitting in the plastic for a little while because as he had been going in the same routine he usually has, he spots you, his classmate, bent to the knees next to his cat, and paused.

rin thinks you’re scared of him because everyone in the class is. he lets you have your moment, choosing to come back later when you’ve finished so you don’t freak out and scare the cat. he thinks he can strike up a conversation tomorrow where there are no cats to frighten.

the cat walks up to him, instantly familiar. he doesn’t even meow up at rin impatiently, which confirms rin’s suspicions.

“y/n fed you well,” he mumbles. “i guess you can have this tomorrow.”

you’re suddenly all too aware that rin sits in front of you. he’s right there, uniform stretched over his broad back, most likely because he’s the prodigy of soccer in your school.

the neatness of his hair reminds you of the cat from yesterday, with its silky dark fur despite being a stray. you resist the urge to touch it, missing the cat already. you make a mental note to refill your water bottle so the cat can drink after.

while left thinking about the fact that you’re three dollars shorter than yesterday's budget, you fail to notice that class has ended and rin has his arm slung over the top of his chair to turn to look at you.

rin’s eyes flicker down to the paper bag next to your feet. “what’s that for?”

startled by the smoothness of his voice directed at you, you choke out a: “t-this?” you gesture lamely at the bag containing the gruesome bowl.

“what else am i referring to?”

you scrunch your nose. “okay, no need to be so rude. maybe i won’t tell you what it is.”

rin stares, and you’re intensely reminded of piercing eyes looking up at you, patiently waiting for the canned tuna.

“it’s a cat bowl,” you murmur, defeated.

“cat bowl,” he repeats, a gleam in his eye. he probably thinks you’re weirder than he already thinks you are.

“for a stray. i don’t want to bring it around because some other cat owner might steal it. i can’t have that.”

“show me,” he demands.

a little terrified by the fact that the class grump is actively maintaining a conversation with you; you obediently show him the bowl, spinning it around to show all sides. rin hums, contemplative. your classmates are starting to stare. “it’s weird, right? fishes for the print and fishes for dinner. do you like it?”

“lukewarm.”

“what does that even mean?”

“it’s too small. buy a new one.”

“...you think?”

rin nods, standing up. the chair screeches while he says, “i’ll come with you.”

this is how you end up in the same pet supply store with a companion this time. rin picks the most expensive one for the bowl and the canned cat food, which makes you think he must really like cats a lot.

but as you two leave the store, you belatedly realize he’s leading the way even though you never told him anything about the stray you meet.

it doesn’t hit you until the same cat meows and purrs at rin, rubbing against his pants with its entire body.

“hi,” rin says, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

you gape. “wait, the cat’s yours?”

rin bends down, knees to his chest while he sets the bowl down and cracks the can open with one finger. “no. dad’s allergic. he doesn’t follow me back home anyway.” while he does that, the cat comes to greet you, and your heart aches on rin’s behalf.

so he just comes to feed him every day, huh… you muse, gently scratching the cat who purrs at your attention but still looks as if he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“do you have a name for him?”

rin pauses, having finished pouring everything. “...no.” he squints at you as if you’ve just asked him the exact coordinates of his birthplace: sincerely confused.

“what do you call him, then?” you watch as the unnamed cat starts digging down on the food, content. you wonder why no one else has already kept this cat to themselves. he’s so cute and polite.

“cat.”

“ah, of course.”

you two watch ‘cat’ eat, content with the silence. it starts to drizzle moments later, but rin is quick to pull out an umbrella and cover all three of you. the cat grumbles unhappily at the splatter of rain hitting him.

“do you always visit him?”

“yes.”

“do you like cats?”

“yes.”

a shame that allergies are the only thing keeping itoshi rin from getting a cat.

while you’re distracted, the cat goes back to rin. rin wastes no time bending down to pick him up, looking awfully domestic in the middle of a sidewalk in front of a busy coffee shop. your hands twitch to reach for your phone, but you’re too stunned to do anything but stare. they look so much alike.

cute, you think, horrified, rin looks so cute holding the cat.

while engulfed in rin’s arms, the cat meows at you. and you, with a too-tender heart, can’t resist.

“i’ll keep him,” you declare with newfound determination. “i’ll take care of him. if you let me keep the bowl you bought.”

rin’s eyes light up, though it wouldn’t have been evident if you hadn’t been his classmate and witnessed his varying expressions of death. (as if it was varying in the first place.)

“i’ll buy everything else he’ll like,” he says, like a true cat mom, his face glowing with barely concealed excitement.

since then, rin accompanies you home. you tell him that you’ve saved up three dollars from yesterday and now you have more than enough to buy a nice, cold drink and maybe catnip for the cat, but rin insists that he’ll pay for everything, including your beverage.

“you feed our son.”

“our son?” he repeats curiously.

“yes. he lives with me. he looks like you,” you explain absentmindedly, setting up the water dispenser on the new food bowl rin ended up buying. it no longer has fish for design or the painful lime green he bought the second time—instead, it’s a nice blue that compliments the cat’s eyes.

“and what are you implying is going on between us?”

you nearly spill water all over the floor. “i…” you honestly did not think about that, “—nevermind. don’t make it weird, itoshi!”

you think you heard rin chuckling, but you’re too busy being embarrassed to bother.

(during class, you will find that rin is far from intimidating. in fact, he’s actually a little bitch to deal with. you’re starting to think that he’s more of a pain to deal with than an actual grumpy cat.

“don’t forget to buy food for our son,” rin says after class, in front of students who gossip like there is no tomorrow.

“what?”

“for our son,” rin says, nonplussed at the sight of your haunted expression.

someone who has overheard the conversation pipes up, “you two have a son?”

“we don’t!” you hiss, face burning with embarrassment at the sudden influx of attention from your classmates.

rin frowns. “don’t lie.”

“you two are starting to act like a married couple recently…” another comments offhandedly.

“itoshi walks y/n home, i saw!”

“we have a son,” rin agrees, and you’re starting to think that he’s doing it on purpose.

“stop saying that!”)

thank u art aanobrain for giving me the idea of rin just naming the cat ‘cat’. that idea is so special to me.

anyway. RIN IS SO HARD TO WRITE HELPPPP. this was an excruciating process i genuinely did not know if i did anything right but WHAT’S DONE IS DONE. thx for reading <3

x : MY DILUC, MY EVERYTHING :*+ﾟ

in which: you tell diluc that klee finds him 'too boring' to be your boyfriend. he can't help but feel like she's right.

warnings: 1.3k words, insecure diluc who needs a little reassurance, mostly dialogue, klee being cute but also a menace, so much fluff with a dash of angst.

a/n: i have not posted anything in so long, but i wanted this to be my first fic of 2024 because i love diluc <3 i hope you all enjoy this little fic!

“What do you mean Mr Diluc is your boyfriend?” Klee asks, tilting her head to the side with an inquisitive look in her eyes as you bend down to her height.

“I mean that Mr Diluc is my boyfriend. My partner. We’ve been together for years now.” 

“You mean that Mr Diluc, right?” She raises a tiny hand in the direction where the red-haired in question stands. He’s immersed in conversation with Kaeya and Jean, but from one glance you can tell the estranged brothers are up to no good. Or rather, that Kaeya is having the time of his life provoking your partner.

“That’s the one. I think he’s the only one, Klee.”

Her pointer finger then comes up to her chin in contemplation, and her breath of contemplation materialises as a small cloud, condensating in the winter chill. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Why is he your boyfriend?”

“Well, why wouldn’t he be?”

“No offence to Mr Diluc, but he’s so cold and boring!” She cries, clenching her fists to her chest, as if being ‘boring’ was a crime to humanity. “And he never smiles. He should smile more but I would find him scarier like that… so maybe he should stay the way he is: a total gloomy bum bum!”

You can’t help but laugh at her honest statement, muffling the noise with your hand. She blinks at you and wonders what she said that made you laugh, but you simply tell her that it’s nothing.

“Maybe, but I love that ‘gloomy bum bum’ just the way he is.”

“But… why? Y/n is so kind and knows how to smile! Mr Diluc is too sad and boring for you.”

Over the course of your relationship with the wine monopolist, you were met with resistance from various people who believed they wanted ‘the best’ for him. These were including, butand not limited to, businessmen, his admirers, and old aristocrats with wealth on the brink of collapsing. You never let their passive aggressiveness get to you, their comments burned to ashes by the way Diluc lights the way for you with his undying flames. 

Yet hearing a child, who has no real grip of the world beyond explosions and how not to blow up Monstadt, explain that Diluc shouldn’t be with you because he doesn’t know how to smile is… unbelievable. Her intentions are nothing but pure for her knowledge of the world has not yet been tainted by the nuance of human behaviour. As refreshing as it feels to have her support, any insults you hear about Diluc are unpleasant to hear. Though she may not hold any malice, perhaps her judge of character needs to be deepened.

“Sometimes, the coldest people are really the warmest,” you begin, gently wrapping her scarf around her neck. “Mr Diluc is one of those people.”

“Really?”

“Warmer than a fireplace, or a Pyro Crystalfly, or Jumpty Dumpty.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yes, but please don’t go blowing one up just to see how warm it can be. Jean already told you about the animals hibernating during winter, you shouldn’t go disturbing them.”

She tucks her hands behind her back, eyes downcast and ears flopped.

“Do you remember when Albedo took you to Dragonspine and when you melted a chunk of ice, crystalflies flew out of it?”

“They were so pretty and became super warm! I wish I caught one of them, but they flew away too quickly.”

“Mr Diluc is just like that ice with the fireflies. You just need to warm up to him and when you do, he can be one of the best people you’ll ever meet.”

“Will he fly away too?”

“You could keep an eye on him and find out.”

She nods, determination alighting in her eyes with the new task you assign her. Although you’re pretty positive she won’t ever succeed with it, you’re just happy you’ve found a way to show Klee that your lover isn’t as terrible as she deems. A flash of familiar red hair appears in your periphery.

“Dear?” He calls, capturing your attention. “Shall we head into the tavern now? It’s too cold to stay out here.”

Sparing one last glance at Klee who regards your partner with fire in her eyes, you can’t help but smile at the pure innocence in her heart. With a ruffle of her hair as goodbye, you take Diluc’s hand and stand, waving goodbye to the rest of the group before heading in the direction of Angel’s Share. Shuddering, you sink deeper into the wool of your coat and the warmth of his Pyro Vision, a perfect combat to the winter frost that’s covered Monstadt.

“You know,” you begin when both of you have arrived at the empty tavern and the red-haired has a fire started in the corner. He urges you to continue with a soft ‘hum’. “The conversation I had with Klee just won’t leave my head.”

“Oh? What’d she say?”

Sitting down on a cold stool, you keep your gaze on him as he walks behind the counter. It seems like he’s preparing drinks and snacks for you: some cheese, crackers, and grapes.

“First of all, she only found out today that I was dating you.”

“Oh? Jean or Albedo haven’t told her before?”

“I guess neither of us appear that much in conversation together. But she refused to believe it at first, being like ‘you mean that Mr Diluc?’, ‘why is he your boyfriend?’,” you laugh. “She thought that you were too gloomy to be with me and that I should be with someone who knows how to smile.”

His cheese knife halts, the sound of metal meeting wood slicing through the atmosphere. However, you’re too engrossed in retelling the story to notice the way he freezes.

“How silly. Kids really have the wildest presumptions and thoughts to match.”

Diluc continues preparing the food, stiff hands moving along the counter. You don’t say more than that, saving further conversation for when he’s done. As he sets the arrangement of crackers, cheese, and grapes down, it’s accompanied by a heavy sigh.

“What if… she’s right?” Asks the winery owner, voice no louder than a whisper.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I did, but I don’t understand why you think that way too.”

“Well, smiling isn’t my strong suit anymore and I’ve been told by the knights that the children find my expression too scary.”

“You know anyone can smile, right?” You ask jovially. “It’s not like a statistical impossibility-“

“It’s not just that,” he interjects sharply. Your smile fades, acknowledging Diluc’s sombre expression that clarified he wasn’t joking around like you thought. However, seeing the change in your attitude sobered him and that sharp glance fades, turning into something remorseful and softer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap like that.”

“No no, it’s my fault for not taking you seriously. Please, go on.”

“I’m quite boring, you know.” He fiddles with the ends of his leather gloves. “Did you never think that maybe what Klee said could be correct?”

“Never because she’s not correct. Honestly, Diluc, after all these years of being together and hearing what some people have to say about us, I never thought you’d think like this.” 

He casts his gaze downwards. “Because those people don’t know me like you do.” 

Two hands come up to cup his cheeks, gently directing him to look up at you and meet your kind expression. All inhibitions he had melt away at the sight of your smile.

“I can only hope they never do,” you reply simply, confidence lacing your words. 

Being with him is not easy. He is a busy man, one who manages the entirety of Monstadt’s wine business during the day and takes to the shadows to look after your beloved city at night. Yet, despite working with the sun and moon, he still gives all of him to you. For as long as Diluc will allow it, you hope to be the only person he’ll pick baskets of grapes with, play slow games of chess with, and freely lay out his convictions to. 

You’ll be damned to give up your spot beside him without a fight.

Diluc doesn’t believe he deserves the same. “You’re too patient with me. I’ve let you down too much for you to be this forgiving,” he grabs your wrists and gently knocks his forehead against yours. “I can’t give you everything you want.”

“You’re my Diluc, you already are everything.”

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

summary you take it upon yourself to make it up to lyney when he couldn’t perform on the night he looked forward to the most—and lyney falls a little harder.

or, sickfic, basically, but it’s more than that

warnings wc 3k, mentions of injuries and blood, fluff!!! and a bit of angst oops

A/N @hiraethsdesires wanted to get tagged so here u goo!!! hope u like reading it <3

“For the last time, Lyney,” you sigh, shoving one more macaron in the small, red box with the same shade as the accents of his hat, “I can’t attend your show.”

It’s a stroke of luck for him that you don’t have a line right now, or else you would’ve kicked him out the moment you saw him enter, fully expecting he doesn’t intend on leaving right away.

Lyney droops dramatically, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Seriously? Not this week either?”

“Not this week either. Not ever, I’m pretty sure I told you.” You push the box against his chest, to which he responds eagerly by situating his free hand firmly over yours.

He keeps his grip firm when you try tugging your hands away. He bores his eyes into yours, too sincere and open for a performer such as himself—you feel a bit of your will chip away. “That night is special to me. Won’t you consider again?”

“Why is it special?”

Lyney’s lips curl into a smirk, striking right when you’ve faltered. “Because you will be coming to watch, of course.”

You jerk your hands out of his grip as he laughs. “Bold assumption,” you say, smiling a little when Lyney cries a ‘come onnnn’. “Lyney, I already said—”

“—That you have no one else to take care of the shop if you leave, I know, I know,” Lyney interrupts with clear disdain. “But don’t you think I deserve a bit of compensation? Surely you recognize my efforts in being this bakery’s most loyal customer. Most purchases and most compliments to the prettiest owner.”

You roll your eyes, but you do give it a bit of thought. Lyney has been the reason why your humble little shop tucked in some hidden corner of Fontaine’s city has been gaining attention. You’ve definitely increased in customers ever since Lyney took it upon himself to come over every day with a Rainbow Rose and a dream (and Mora).

“If I attend to one, will you promise it’ll be the last?”

Lyney’s expression shifts instantly. He beams, leaning close enough until your noses are touching. You swear you can see the sparkles in his eyes. “I can’t promise anything if you enjoy it so much you keep coming back for more.”

“Don’t push it,” you say.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Lyney murmurs, his smile turning softer. “You’re not joking around, right? That’s a yes?”

“It’s a yes, I guess.”

He kisses your hand three times, saying, “I’ll make it the best night of your life, I promise,” between them.

You look forward to it. You wouldn’t tell it to his face, but if he were to look closer and see the tremble of your hands to the smile on your face, he’d know anyway.

Lyney doesn’t come over the next day.

You will yourself not to feel too disappointed. You have no right to be. Every time he does visit, he’d just invite you to one of his shows under the guise of ordering whatever you tell him is the best seller of the day, and every time, you’d reject his offer. Yesterday was an exception—on a whim.

Maybe he got a revelation, thinking that he'll find it boring when he finally got you in his grasp.

It certainly doesn’t help that Lyney still hasn't come to visit the day after that, which happened to be the same day of the performance.

They canceled the show, you hear them say, from outside on the streets and even in the walls of your bakery. What a shame; I was looking forward to it.

So was I, you want to say through gritted teeth.

You knew their fame knew no bounds, but it was only then that embarrassment crept in when you realized that the show star, Lyney himself, frequented your small shop with a bouquet in hand to invite you personally. And you had the gall to reject him.

You also learn that the bakery feels much more empty without his blazing presence.

The moment you finish watching the customer exit the shop with two paper bags in their arms, you rush to fling your apron off and flip the sign to ‘CLOSED’.

You don’t often leave the bakery in fear of missing out on what could be busy days, but this is more important than that. You can’t handle working idly for another hour with guilt in your stomach urging you to do something.

You must look like a sight: speeding through the pathway with a bit of flour on your clothes and a determined glint in your eyes. Only when you spot a familiar house overhead do you pause to take a deep breath.

You can do this. You need to find out what happened.

“He got sick?”

Lynette nods, sighing in defeat. “Would you like to come in? I’ll explain as I make tea.”

You glance around unsurely, feeling a little out of place. You occasionally break the heart of the brother of this woman currently inviting you inside their home. You can only hope that Lyney hasn’t been lamenting his bakery troubles to his sister.

Lynette directs you to the loveseat of their small living room before padding over to the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable,” she says in her endearing ever-monotone voice.

“I’m okay, thank… you…” Your gaze catches on a picture frame on the desk beside the seat of Lyney, Lynette, and what you can only assume from stories he’s shared is Freminet. Lynette is far from the camera, staring into the distance and sipping tea. Freminet is smiling awkwardly with no teeth, and the one eye he has visible isn’t even staring at the camera. Then Lyney sits in the middle, holding the camera with two arms and a wide grin, eyes screwed shut and his face so open.

You feel as if you’ve just caught a glimpse of something so personal, and the thought of that twists your heart and pushes it to beat twice as fast as normal. You’ve never seen him smile like that before. (You briefly wonder what it would be like to see it happen personally.)

“I’ve never seen him get this high of a fever before,” Lynette says, rousing you from your trance. She hands you a cup of tea, steam emanating from the cup.

“How did he even get sick?”

“I’m not sure… It could be because of the thunderstorm yesterday—he was out at that time and came home like that. He seemed really excited for tonight, too. Lyney kept telling me that this one would be special.”

“Because you will be coming to watch, of course.”

You nearly choke in your first sip because of your own thoughts.

Lynette looks back up at you over the rim of her cup. “With the stress of not being able to perform tormenting him, I assume he wouldn’t be getting better in time for the show. Or at least, not tonight at all.”

“Ah,” you voice lamely. You can’t even imagine the look of pure distress on Lyney’s sweet face—it hurts to even think about it. He’s done so much for you and even promised a whole show, only to fall sick before he could make it come true.

Will he think he’s at fault for this?

With your fingernails digging crescents on your palms, you quietly ask, “…Can I come visit him? Or would that be too much?”

Lynette’s gaze sharpens a little. “Has my brother told you the truth of our identities?”

“Most of everyone found out after the trial,” you answer without missing a beat.

“And still, you choose to care for Lyney?”

Is this a shovel talk? Are you experiencing a shovel talk right now?

“He makes it hard not to,” you say weakly; it’s the truth. You’re here because Lyney, throughout his little visits, has made you care so deeply for him that you started to look forward to each visit. “…Is that a no? Was that too much of a request?”

Lynette has a ghost of a smile on her face. “It’s perfect.”

The room is silent as you enter. You feel shame for visiting someone’s room without them knowing, even though you’ve been given complete permission by his own sister. Still, your face burns the closer you reach Lyney’s bed.

“Hey, Lyney,” you murmur as you kneel beside the bed. “I brought some of your favorites.”

He doesn’t respond, much to no one’s surprise. You wonder why you feel so disappointed that those lilac eyes aren’t looking at you, begging you, wooing you. Defeated, you place the bag of macarons on his bedside table, mostly an excuse to inspect his face closer.

His brows are furrowed, and a thin layer of sweat is on his forehead, even in his sleep. He looks nicer in casual clothes and his hair free from products.

A bowl of water is near his head, with a towel sitting in the bottom.

“You get really sick when you get it, huh?” you muse to no one in particular, gently wiping the sweat off his forehead. Then to his neck, where the warmth of his fever nearly burns you just by hovering close.

Lyney shifts a little. You pause with bated breath. Still, he doesn’t wake up.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, taking the bowl in your hands.

His nose is really red. You shouldn’t be finding it cute—really, what’s wrong with you recently?

But your movement brushed against the blanket over his torso and, with it, came revealing the side of his waist. His stomach is wrapped with bandages, and a spot of dried blood is seeping in on the bandage on his side.

Your eyes widen in horror, nearly making a loud, indecipherable noise before you catch yourself.

You rush to the door, finding Lynette in the same spot of the loveseat where you left her. Her eyes flick up to you, brows arched in surprise.

“Lynette, he—”

She catches on quickly. “He’s alright,” Lynette says, though her ears are curled back in distress. “He’s been given help. We knew of someone affiliated with Hydro and its healing properties. He’s alright.”

Well. Of course, she knew; she’s his sister. You can’t bear the thought of Lyney in the middle of a thunderstorm, finding himself in front of Lynette, bleeding. You feel sick just thinking about it. You can’t possibly imagine what Lynette has been going through, having to take care of her brother by herself.

You hesitate. “Can I come back here tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Wait—really?”

Lynette pauses. “Should I have not said yes?”

“I just thought you’d be a little more stern with me because of… you know…”

“I respect those who put my brother in his place,” Lynette says, then: “And those who don’t run from us when they find out what our identities are,” and that’s that.

“You brought a flower,” is the first thing Lynette says as soon as she opens the door the following morning.

“He gives me one every visit,” you explain, and you’re not quite sure why it’s humiliating to do so. “So, I want to pay him back at least this once.”

“Rainbow Rose,” Lynette notes as she shuts the door softly. You follow her into Lyney’s room, but she halts before you two can reach the door at arm’s length. “Do you know what this one means?”

You look at the Rainbow Rose nestled in your palm. It's been well taken care of since he gave it to you—all of them had been. “No, I can’t say that I do…?”

“He’s given everyone else Lumidouce Bells because this flower is a little more special.”

Lynette reaches for your hand, gently pushing the Rainbow Rose until you’re holding it against your chest.

She looks into your eyes. “That flower is like him giving his heart to you. Please, take care of it some more. Don’t give it back, okay?”

And as you mull over her words, she leaves. And left you standing in front of Lyney’s room alone, with your entire face feeling as if it’s been burnt by the sun.

But this is no time for distractions, no matter the implications. Lyney still hasn’t woken up yet, and it’s time to pay him back. He deserves that much.

“You finally feel better?”

Lyney blinks. Or, at least, he tries to, but his eyes weigh heavier than usual. He lays back down and chooses to close them back again. “Ugh…” he rasps out, “Lynette. My side is still hurting a little, but it’s much more bearable than yesterday. I thought I was about to die!”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Lynette says, handing him a glass of water. “You already caused quite a scene.”

“Hmmm?” Lyney answers absentmindedly, finding himself ready to fall asleep again.

“You didn’t get injured yesterday. That was five days ago. And the bakery shop owner kept coming over every day.”

Lyney’s eyes definitely open at that. “What did you say?”

Lynette’s tail flicks. “The bakery has been closed for about four days now, and no one else but I know that it’s because the person responsible for it has been here in this room instead, taking care of you. It was even on The Steambird.”

Lyney’s finding it difficult to catch up. “Wait… wait. Are you saying…”

“You made Y/N, Freminet, and I worry so much, you know,” she chides.

Lyney’s heart shatters. “Does that mean—my wound—”

“I wasn’t the one changing your bandages,” Lynette says with a tiny smile as she watches her brother’s face explode in red. “Do you still feel tired?”

“Not at all!” Lyney springs up from his bed, his grin wild and insane. His side will most definitely punish him for this, but that’s far in the back of his mind. “Ah, so Y/N does care. All my efforts weren’t in vain!”

Lynette sighs, but still stays to listen.

“And—bandaging my wounds? While I was out cold? How intimate… My heart is racing at the thought of it.” He clutches his chest, because it’s true despite his dramatics.

“I’ve never seen Y/N before; I’ve only heard of what you told me every time you came back from the bakery,” Lynette starts, urging him to lie back down. She presses a towel on his forehead, and he yelps because it feels ice-cold. “But you seem wrong about every assumption, Lyney. I know the face of someone who cares.”

Lyney falters, his expression softening impossibly. “Y/N’s not mad I missed out on the show I promised…?”

“Y/N was worried about the same thing, but in your shoes.”

Lyney hides his face with his hands, but that’s a fruitless attempt. Lynette has a clear view of his red ears. “I can’t tell if I’m elated or mortified,” he groans. “Both, perhaps?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Lynette says, getting up at the same time the door swings open.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” you exclaim, though hushedly. “Lynette, I brought food to eat. Here, help yourself. Has Lyney woken up yet?”

“Oh, he…” Lynette takes your handmade lunch and glances down at her brother, briefly surprised to see him with his eyes shut and his breathing as steady as it had been when he was sleeping. “Excuse me, I want to eat.”

“Wait, Lynette—” you start, but Lynette is already walking away and eventually shuts the door. She must be very excited to eat her food.

You turn to Lyney, and the world falls silent. Lyney doesn’t know why he’s terrified of you finding out he’s awake. Was it guilt? Shame for a promised night in ruin, or humiliation for seeing him at his lowest point? He grips the sheet under the blanket tighter. His heart racing seems like it’s neither of those.

“Hello again, Lyney,” you say in a low whisper, and all of a sudden, his grip loosens, and his shoulders lose tension. “You should wake up soon. I promised Lynette I’d bake your favorite dessert if you do.”

You're not expecting any reply, ceremoniously reaching for the towel on his bedside table, like you’ve lived here as much as he has been.

The steady beat of your heart calms him, and he wonders how you aren’t hearing how fast his is beating yet.

Lyney finds himself enjoying being under your tender care, until the warmth on his side disappears and he panics instantly. His eyes fly open just in time for him to see you leaning in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Lyney slips, instinctively reaching out to hold your head in place.

You both freeze, staring at each other wide-eyed.

His thoughts race. Four days. You’ve closed the bakery shop you swore to him you wouldn’t ever abandon just for anyone—yet you did for him. You’ve been taking care of him. And kissing his cheek, for god’s sake. Four days you’ve been caring for him so sweetly, and he wasn’t awake enough to experience all of it himself.

“You’re—you’re awake!” you exclaim, your hands on both of his cheeks. “Lyney, oh, you’re— Wait, how long have you been—”

Lyney silences you with a kiss on the side of your mouth. He smiles at your dumbfounded expression. “You shouldn’t promise my dessert,” he says, and he winces when his voice doesn’t come out as smoothly as intended. “I don’t want any more promises to break.”

“You didn’t break any promise, Lyney,” you say softly, and he blinks when your eyes glisten. “You’re awake right now, aren’t you?”

“Then,” he straightens to sit up, grinning, “let me make it up to you. I promised you a night you would never forget, didn’t I?”

A/N not another lyney fic...

✦◦ attention

summary. once wanderer ignores you, and you won't even look at him?

notes. wanderer x gn!reader / fluff / referred to as "kuni."

author's thoughts. this is my first time posting on tumblr! here's a nice and short fic to begin this blog.

You huffed as you walked away from the Wanderer, your back facing him. He sighed in irritation before grumbling something under his breath. He was quick to follow you.

“Quit it, will you?” He said as he treaded your heels. You were walking fast. Not that it bothered your boyfriend. As much as you hated to admit it, he was faster than you. And if he truly desired it, he could simply fly ahead of you. But right now Kuni simply gave pursuit, attempting to get your attention.

“C’mon, talk to me. Stop ignoring me,” He continued protesting. You didn’t even bother turning around, looking at him or acknowledging him. Your pace was quick, your steps nimble and light footed as you easily traversed the forestry terrain.

One time. One time Wanderer ignores you, and this is what he gets? One time he turned away from you to converse with the traveller and you refuse to even look at him? 

You had a nonchalant expression on your face. You’d sometimes wave your hand dismissively as if swatting away an annoying mosquito. In your head though, you were amused by this situation. See how Kuni likes to be treated this way, hm?

Admittedly, this was pissing off your boyfriend. His patience was not what he was known for, and he looked very much close to snapping. 

Suddenly you felt a firm grip on your wrist. You let out a soft yelp as you were spun around, now forced to face your dear beloved. His gaze stared down at you, and his presence was domineering. 

“Talk to me,” He nearly snarled. You swallowed thickly. The Wanderer was stubborn, but so were you. You scoffed, saying absolutely nothing, turning your head away. 

And yet, even that option was thrown out the window. Kuni’s fingers curled around your chin, tilting your head back up to him. His stare piercing into your soul. His lips in a taut line.

“...Pay attention to me,” He said, his voice soft and low. Under the dappled light of the trees, you could see his face dusted a faint pink hue.

You arched a brow, amused at his words. Still no words escaped you, wanting to see how this entertaining event could now turn. 

The Wanderer muttered curses before interlocking his fingers with yours. He pulled you closer by your waist, your bodies pressing against one another. He brought your hand up to his mouth. Kuni’s lips parted, a puff of warmth hitting your skin. He pressed a kiss flush against the back of your palm. 

Kuni’s lips stayed glued onto your hand for a second longer before pulling away.

“There.” He let go of your hand, crossing his arms. “Is that enough for your whiny self to talk to me now?”

You smiled, cheeky and mischievous, before planting a kiss on the Wanderer’s cheek. 

“I’ll think about it,” You mused.

Kuni rolled his eyes, his fingers finding yours as he dragged you along with him, the tips of his ears red.

dividers by: @cafekitsune

and his voice is a familiar sound | scaramouche

forced proximity + childhood friends reuniting, humor, kissing and tension. suggestive implications and suggestive humor, a bit of scara’s mommy issues, wc 5k

ft. a down bad jealous bf scaramouche, bffs heizou and kazuha, and aether bc aether always has to be there

“If I ask you to come with us for a vacation, would you say yes?”

Your bedroom was already too cramped for one person, with what you could afford with your money after quitting your part-time job. It made it incredibly difficult for all parties involved when you invited someone over, especially when that person had no concept of personal space. You barely looked up from the pages of your book, humming halfheartedly to whatever Heizou is saying. You heard vacation and instantly decided to not waste your time.

Heizou must have sensed these thoughts, too, because he forces himself into your field of view by nearly climbing over your lap. “Hey, look at me. Would you say yes?”

“Heizou!” you hissed, pushing him off before Heizou could wrinkle the pages of the book that’s definitely overdue for borrowing time. You started to think about taking another part-time job if your friends kept inviting themselves over and invading your personal space.

Heizou looked at you, his face doing a complicated combination of a frown and a smug grin. “Come on. You never join us on trips…”

“For good reason,” you said, gesturing to the lapful of Heizou you are currently getting bombarded with.

“You’re so mean,” Heizou laughed, thankfully getting off your lap. He refused to let go of you, however, immediately wrapping an arm over your shoulder and pressing up against your side. This must be one of his techniques to make the people he was questioning feel restricted. It was working. “How will you get yourself to settle for a nice, young man with that attitude? What are you even reading?”

“I grabbed whatever book had a pleasing cover so I can tune your nonsense out.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“What?” Heizou clapped the book shut and turned to you with the eyes of a reprimanding mother. “I swear I’m being serious. Can’t you consider it for even a minute? You’re breaking my heart. Plus, Kazuha’s the one who’s inviting us out.”

Hmm. What a compelling argument. Heizou knew that no one could ever say no to Kazuha. You wouldn’t really care if your absence would break Heizou’s heart, but Kazuha’s disappointed eyes were enough to put a god to their knees.

You zeroed in on Heizou’s wording. “Who’s ‘us’?”

Heizou started listing each with a raise of a finger. “Just Kazuha and Aether—and a friend we met recently. Kazuha invited him.”

You frowned. You didn’t know Aether visited again. “How the hell did Aether get invited?” Then, upon careful reflection: “And who’s the new friend?”

“If he was around, why not, right?” Heizou laughed, carefully setting the overdue book aside from your view. “The new friend’s Scaramouche. Have you met him before?”

What a strange name. Kazuha always managed to befriend people from all over, like a child bringing home turtles and a new species of bugs. You made a note to look him up. “Never heard of him.”

He hummed. “Said he came from Sumeru but he looked pretty Inazuman to me. Funny guy. He’s like a disgruntled baby brother.”

“And you only met him, what, recently? Why is he invited to our group already?” you asked, like the territorial person you are. How come it seemed like you were the last to know about this guy?

Aether was alright. Aether came back every few months to check up on everyone and got roped into all kinds of things with your friends, so you knew him well enough already. You liked his long braid. Heizou and Kazuha had been your friends for as long as you could remember being a college student.

Heizou grinned, patting your head. “Scaramouche’s nice, I promise. You wouldn’t even notice he’s there.”

At your dubious stare, Heizou amended, “C’mon, do you think I’m the type to befriend an asshole?”

Yes, but Heizou wasn’t the type to befriend a major asshole whose opinions he vehemently disagreed with, and he thought belonged better in jail, so you had to think about it for a bit. At the very least, this new guy didn’t seem like a criminal.

Your friends loved traveling, with Kazuha mostly being the culprit, but you liked staying inside most of the time. They never forced you to go with them, so why was Heizou being suspiciously persistent today?

“I think he’s your type,” Heizou finally said, caving in.

“You’re trying to hook me up with him?”

“Not exactly… but you two would seem cute.” He went silent for a thoughtful moment. “I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed if you slept together.”

You made a face.

Heizou laughed brightly. “Alright, alright. You can go back to being the good poster student you are if you promise to think about it. Seriously. Kazuha’s moving to Liyue soon—he’s probably inviting us out because of that.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, reaching around for your book.

You would. What Heizou said about Kazuha made you remember that there are only a few weeks left until this is all over—then, after that, you all might go your separate ways. That thought floated around your mind for a little while as Heizou made himself comfortable on your bed, sighing before he dozed off.

You sighed, shuffling to give him space. “If this is your way of trying to make me get laid, try to at least be subtle and not weird me out before I even meet the guy.”

You stalked Kazuha’s Insta to search up this Scaramouche guy and nearly dropped your phone.

scaramouche11206. It was empty, entirely useless for your research. Scaramouche’s profile was a public account, had zero posts, and had four people he was following. It was Kazuha, Aether, Heizou, and a Vahumana Darshan update page.

You checked the tagged posts, and your jaw dropped to the ground.

Scaramouche was Kunikuzushi.

Heizou was taking a group selfie in the image, his tongue stuck out and winking while the camera showed two other men. On the left was Kazuha, with his ever-polite smile, then on the other, with the all-black getup was what the tags said was scaramouche11206.

It was a little difficult to tell why you were enamoured with the masked face with a short hime cut for a moment, but the piercing stare to the camera couldn’t be mistaken. It was a minute of staring before it clicked. This was your Kunikuzushi.

You dialed Heizou before you could even think about it.

“What…? It’s five a.m.” He sounded like he just woke up, “What’s up?”

You swiped back to the image of Scaramouche, as if staring at it any longer would imprint each pixel to your brain and bring him to life before you. “Hey, where’s Kazuha? Tell him I’m going.”

YEARS AGO.

Summer. The cicadas rang in your ears. They chirped about as you and Kunikuzushi trudged further into the forest. Sunlight peeked through the leaves, splashing Kunikuzushi’s beautiful face in a delicate glow.

Komorebi. Shadows scattered on the ground. Kunikuzushi lifted his head and turned to you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His voice was quiet, but even with the wind and the singing cicadas, you could hear him loud and clear. You could pick out his voice from a crowd. Your heart would know where to find him.

“I like looking at you,” you said. “I like you.”

He accepted the answer and continued walking. You beamed. Usually, Kunikuzushi would scoff and bat your words away, hiding his flustered face. But he didn’t.

Longing. Kunikuzushi turned back to you, stopping in his steps. You nearly bumped onto his back. “Do you like me enough to marry me?”

Was this a marriage proposal? You tried to think of you and Kunikuzushi, walking down aisles and reciting vows, and almost laughed. But then you tried to think of anyone else. You tried to think of a life without Kunikuzushi.

You thought of Kunikuzushi with anyone else and nearly threw up in his face. “You’re the only one for me.”

“Even if I hurt you?”

You frowned. “You would never hurt me, Kuni.”

Kunikuzushi’s expression crumpled. He could never hide anything from you; he was too expressive, eyes round and lip trembling. Your heart sunk to your stomach. You reached for his hands and forced him to look at you. “Kuni, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He looked at the ground. “I said I didn’t want to live with her anymore. I didn’t really think Mom would make Aunt Nahida take me.”

The cicadas faded. The world fell into a hush. Your grip on his hands grew weak. “What?”

Kunikuzushi didn’t have a good relationship with his mother; you knew that. They were complicated. They always fought and he grew up to loathe her. You knew that. But you didn’t think…

You breathed in deeply. It was not Kunikuzushi’s fault. It was not Ei’s—and definitely not Nahida’s fault. It was just the way things go sometimes.

You forced a laugh, hoping to ease the troubled expression on his face. “Were you proposing because you’re moving away?”

Kunikuzushi blushed. “Shut up.”

Your face softened. He was always so cute when his face was as red as the red by his eyes.

Kunikuzushi inhaled sharply, taking your hands and looking at you with a determined glint in his eyes. “If I were going to ask you out, I would do it better than anyone who would try to marry you. So don’t entertain them.”

The trip’s plan was basically swimming when you could, staying at a hotel, driving out of the hotel to eat somewhere cheaper, and it would be stretched out for a few days. All in all, it didn’t sound too bad. With the type of people you were going out with, you were expecting a lot more drinking (Kazuha) and near-death-related activities (Aether). Although Heizou said it was Kazuha’s trip, he was apparently mistaken.

“It was originally for Scaramouche and his family, but his mother had last-minute changes and couldn’t go,” Kazuha explained as he helped you fit your luggage in the trunk of Aether’s car. “Scaramouche said it would be a waste and told me to invite my friends.”

“Woo-hoo, Scaramouche’s mom!” Heizou cheered.

“When we met her, it seemed like you hated her,” Kazuha mused as Heizou climbed inside the car. You were in the passenger seat while the two were shoved in the back. It seemed that even if you moved to a bigger apartment, you’d end up suffocated by Inazuman men either way.

“Hard not to after hearing Scara’s contempt for her. I’m an empath or something.” 

Aether adjusted the side mirrors. “Are we forgetting anything?”

“Where’s the Scaramouche guy?” you asked.

Heizou cast you a sly smile. “He’s already at the hotel, probably buying us other rooms.”

At least another thing about him hadn’t changed: he’s still disgustingly rich. You did some digging about the hotel, and it was the kind of place you could only dream of even looking at. You suddenly felt severely underdressed for a five-star hotel, with only sweatpants, a duffle bag, and a dream.

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Kazuha said, and weirdly enough, you caught him looking at you curiously from the sideview mirror.

“No?” Heizou crossed his arms behind his head. “I doubt Scaramouche’s the type to willingly share a room with anyone.”

Aether scoffed, laughing under his breath. “Definitely not with us.”

You looked outside to hide a smile. It seemed that your Kunikuzushi hadn’t really changed drastically. This made you feel better about meeting him again.

“What made you change your mind?” Heizou asked.

You sighed and fell into step along with him as Kazuha and Aether went on ahead. There are families crowding the lobby, draped in gold that matched the fabric of the chandeliers overhead. Their jewelry was brighter than your future. Even the floor smelled expensive.

“Scaramouche did,” you mumbled.

Heizou’s brows lifted to his hairline. “Oh?”

“I mean—I don’t know, I’m not sure yet.” You were absolutely sure, but it’d be embarrassing if he didn’t recognize you at all, and Heizou would think you were just lying. It had been years.

Heizou tilted his head. “Well, whatever it is, I’m rooting for you. And if he fucks up, I know how to pack a punch.”

You didn’t doubt it. Heizou definitely knew how to pack a punch.

The hotel was so fancy and so meant for only rich kids that you and Heizou stood out like sore thumbs by looking around. Some woman your age walked past, her chin high and her steps light. You and Heizou looked at each other, then tried to mimic the same grace as you pair sashayed towards the desk.

“What are you idiots doing?” Aether asked as you reached them.

“Fitting in, unlike you,” Heizou said.

A new voice cut in. “Took you losers long enough.”

Scaramouche turned around after speaking to the clerk, his mouth in a thin line and his stare piercing. He also stood out next to the men in polo with his fingerless gloves and gold rings. He looked like he belonged better on an Inazuman fashion magazine cover than on a hotel vacation with a bunch of losers.

Heizou beamed. “Scara!”

“Hey,” Scaramouche said, then his eyes landed on you.

It was hard to tell if there was any reaction on his face because Heizou went up to him to ruffle his hair, stealing away his attention.

“Thanks for inviting us out. I didn’t know you were the type to want to snuggle with his friends.” Heizou waggled his eyebrows as Scaramouche pushed him away with a hand to Heizou’s face.

Scaramouche wrinkled his nose. “I am not sharing a room with any of you three. You snore, Kazuha snores louder, and I would wake up to Aether’s leg on my stomach the next morning.”

“That was one time,” Aether muttered, blushing.

“How many rooms are reserved?” Kazuha asked.

Scaramouche sighed, craning his neck. He had a really nice side profile. “Still two. The other one with a king and the other with two queens. I was supposed to have the first, but you didn’t tell me you were inviting someone else. This shithole’s booked full now.”

Your gaze fluttered away as they all turned to you. You bit your lip, frowning. Did Scaramouche not recognize you? He was acting like he didn’t. He was treating you like he would any stranger. That upset you, but for the entire car ride, you were also preparing for it. It probably would’ve hurt worse if you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself.

Heizou grinned, slinging an arm over Scaramouche’s shoulder. “I suppose you have no choice but to share a bed with us.”

“No.” Scaramouche picked up his luggage and started rolling away. “Heizou, Kazuha, Aether, you share the king.”

The three men turned to you instead, surprise visible in their expressions. It was exactly because Scaramouche decided to share a room with you, whom he never acknowledged since you arrived.

You wanted to protest. If Scaramouche didn’t recognize you and opted for a choice that didn’t involve sharing a room with anyone, you’d rather sleep on the floor in Kazuha and the others’ room. But Scaramouche was already stepping inside the elevator and was holding the door for you.

You held your gaze to the floor the entire time as Scaramouche pointed at a room and told the three they would sleep there. Scaramouche flashed the card against the door of your room, then stepped inside.

“This one’s ours,” Scaramouche said. You couldn’t detect any hint of emotion.

The room was bigger than the two rooms at your apartment. It had two beds, as Scaramouche said, and a TV across. The room was cold as fuck. You shuddered, and Scaramouche remained unbothered with his layers of clothes that probably cost more than you.

As Scaramouche set his luggage on the bed closest to the window, you gathered the courage to not make this trip any more awkward.

You breathed in deeply. “I’m Y/N—”

“I haven’t forgotten.” He arched an eyebrow as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at you. “Have you forgotten about me?”

“No, no, of course not,” you said. “I could never forget you, Kunikuzushi.”

You stiffened, thinking it was a mistake and there must’ve been a reason he was called by another name, but you took a look at him and got distracted. His face relaxed when you said his name.

I could never forget you. It was sickeningly true. You can never forget about Kunikuzushi. He was your first love. He was so cute with his wide eyes; and he was very clingy, too, which made him all the more endearing.

But looking at the present Kunikuzushi, with his intense stare and permanently bored expression, he was hot, and you started to think that maybe your type was just Kunikuzushi.

Horror settled in your stomach as Scaramouche flashed a wicked grin.

“Then you wouldn’t mind sleeping with me, would you?”

“He said what?” Heizou cackled, hitting the wall as he threw his head back, laughing.

Scaramouche meant it as sleeping in the same room, but he could have— no, should have worded it better. Scaramouche laid down on his bed right after and went on his phone as if he didn’t say anything at all. You blurted some half-baked excuse and left the room to cry about it in your friends’ room.

When Scaramouche said their room was assigned a king bed, you didn’t expect it to fit five people—and Scaramouche said he wanted it for himself? The bed was incredibly big, almost in a lonely way. You have never seen an Alaskan king bed before, but now, sitting on the edge of it, felt as if you could fit your entire apartment on it.

Kazuha was in between Heizou and Aether, their backs resting on the headboard. They were about to sleep, too, but as soon as you burst in, they settled into position and listened intently. Except Aether, kind of; he was texting his sister, who was demanding a room tour.

“I never thought he would be this bold. I mean, demanding to share a room the moment he laid his eyes on you? Wow,” Heizou said, looking terribly criminal with his expression.

“It is surprising,” Kazuha mused. “I’ve witnessed how women flock to his feet and how he bat them all off like he never saw them.”

An unpleasant feeling washed over, which was weird because why would you be upset? Of course they’d flock to him—with a face like that. He had the looks and the personality that would garner him a lot of masochistic fans if he were a character in a drama.

“Does that happen a lot?” The way you spat it out spelled exactly how upset you are.

“No need to get so jealous, now. After that display, I’m positive that he wants as much as you want him,” Heizou laughed, falling forward and resting his elbows on the mattress. He moved his chin to his palm. He looked like he was going to ask if you wanted to paint nails and curl hairs the next second.

Your face felt hot. What was this conversation? You’d much prefer painting nails than talking about this. “I don’t want him!”

Heizou arched an eyebrow. “No?”

Even Kazuha looked doubtful, which was enough of a blow.

“I’m just confused,” you insisted. “You know what happens when you’re in a room alone with an objectively attractive guy? You get confused.”

“I get it,” Aether said, setting his phone aside to share his insight. “This is your sexual awakening.”

“What? No!”

“It definitely is,” Heizou agreed. “Why else are you crying about this to us?”

There was a sense of impending doom at realizing that Heizou was brewing some horrible, horrible thoughts in that head of his. “To stop feeding into my madness!”

Heizou clicked his tongue. “How do you think he feels? His childhood best friend came back to his life looking like that—I’m surprised he hasn't eaten you right up yet.”

You didn’t know what was more horrifying: Heizou implying he thought you were hot, or him implying that he thought Scaramouche thought you were hot.

Your face must’ve looked like a constipated mix between flustered and horrified; Kazuha chimed in to tell Heizou, “You should be more careful with your words. I’ve never met anyone as possessive as Scaramouche.”

“It’s already a miracle he even remembers me. He wouldn’t get jealous. I doubt he actually wants me that way,” you sighed.

“Oh, but you want him that way?” Heizou asked.

You wanted to slap that expression off Heizou’s face. “Of course I do. He was so cute when we were little—I already liked him then. I didn’t think he’d grow up to be so…”

“Sexual awakening,” Aether said again.

“Ow,” Aether whined when you hit him square on the head.

Reluctantly, you returned to your room. Heizou, Kazuha, and Aether told you to get your shit together and face this not-sexual-awakening like a man. Kazuha didn’t say it, but you could feel that he was also thinking it. And if he ever said it out loud, you’d tell him to go fuck off to Liyue already.

Scaramouche was awake. The door clicked shut, and you faintly felt like those heroines locking themselves up in a room to hook up with someone who they didn’t think was the murderer on the front page right now.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

You tried not to let your surprise show, but Scaramouche was staring so intently that you would’ve failed miserably either way. “The other room.”

The longer you looked at him, the more you realized that Kunikuzushi felt like a fever dream. Being only a few feet away from the guy you used to be so fond of, now grown and had an air of haughtiness that would’ve been a turn-off had it been anyone else— it was doing things to you.

“Are you scared of me?”

You laughed and nearly choked on it when registering that Scaramouche was still looking. It wasn’t something like embarrassment. It was more like laughing unabashedly and then sensing that your hallway crush walked past. Maybe it was a bit of embarrassment.

“No. No, I’m not scared.” You moved to sit on your bed, eyes trained on the wall. “You didn’t tell me you were back.”

“You changed your number. You moved out.”

“Oh.” You did do that. Your apartment was very far from your home.

“And I figured you forgot about me or wanted to forget about me because of what I did to you.”

“Oh.” You wanted to say that he didn’t affect you that much. Life goes on; you meet new people and lose them every day, and all that. But Scaramouche was affecting you that much, especially when he’s only a few feet away from you, looking like he wanted you to pounce him.

Scaramouche grinned lopsidedly. “But I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

What the hell does that mean? Your heart skipped a beat. Did he figure it out? Were you that obvious with your thoughts about pouncing?

Scaramouche stood up from his bed, moving towards yours slowly. “Are you seeing anyone right now?”

You tried to avoid getting too close by leaning back, but he kept drawing his face closer, bending towards you. You’re one last tilt away from him pinning you down on the bed.

“No,” you blurted before you could even think about it. It was a little difficult to think about anyone else when you were a breath away from kissing. “Why?”

Scaramouche’s eyes narrowed, electric indigo. “Do you still have a crush on me?”

“You’re asking too many questions.”

“We’re catching up. This is how it works, doesn’t it?”

No, it was definitely not how this worked. Your neck was starting to ache with this awkward angle, and he hadn’t even answered your question.

“Do you?” he repeated, hovering above you.

You gave up on the painful angle and laid flat on the bed, frowning up at him. You crossed your arms to achieve the stance of someone who will not back down easily. “How are you so sure I even had a crush on you?”

“You’re telling me I’m wrong?”

What was this? Some fucked up game of 21 questions, but Scaramouche was too high and mighty to follow the rules? You didn’t know what to say to that. You wisely decided to stay silent, glaring up at him.

You probably didn’t look intimidating at all. Scaramouche smiled, much less sharper. Almost fond as his eyes flicked down to somewhere below your nose. “Am I still the only one for you?”

Okay. You would back down easily if he kept looking at you like that.

“You didn’t hurt me, Kuni.” You sighed. “You never could.”

Scaramouche straightened, his face carefully blank. It was much harder to read him like this. You sat up, wanting to ask if it was the wrong thing to say. You couldn’t get the words out because he lunged for a kiss.

You might have gasped. You might have made some embarrassing noise while a laugh rumbled from the back of Scaramouche’s throat. But that was all thrown out the window the moment your eyes fluttered shut and you lost yourself in the sensation of his warm mouth on yours.

He pushed closer, and you were pulled back on the mattress, his arms on either side of your head. Your eyes flew open when Scaramouche nipped at your lip. As if suddenly remembering where and who you were, you forced his chest back and gaped.

“What?” He looked irritated you interrupted him.

“At least say it back!”

“You didn’t even say it,” Scaramouche said, one eyebrow raised.

“I like you, Kunikuzushi.”

Scaramouche turned red and then looked humbled that you saw it. “I still like you, too.”

You looked at him up and down. You asked, but you didn’t want to hear the answer. “And you didn’t have anyone while you were in Sumeru?”

“Of course not,” Scaramouche scoffed. “You think anyone there was worth my time? You think I’d settle for less than you?” He scowled. “How about you? Nevermind, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. I’d do it better than any of them.”

You laughed, tugging him close with your arms around his neck. If anyone were to come in, they would assume the worst. Then again, maybe Scaramouche had plans to indulge in the worst.

wake up! let’s eat breakfast at the restaurant we saw yesterday!

ask scaramouche. so he can pay for us

Despite the freedom and space of lying on separate queen beds, you and Scaramouche were huddled and pressed close. And despite books in your bag, you were occupied with huddling and pressing close against Scaramouche. You were lying on his chest while he had an arm resting on your stomach.

As soon as Heizou’s texts appeared on the top banner of your screen, you looked up, and Scaramouche looked like he was going to murder someone.

“It’s a joke, probably,” you said. “They don’t see you as a wallet.”

“It’s not a joke,” Scaramouche said. “I don’t really care about that. You and Heizou close?”

“He’s the one who introduced me to Kazuha and the others.” You sat up from the comfortable position and stretched.

“So you’re close.”

“Oh, very much so.” Then you laughed at Scaramouche’s thunderous expression. “Idiot. Why are you jealous? He’s not the one I’m sharing a room with and was making out with last night.”

Scaramouche’s gaze cut down to your neck. He looked extremely pleased.

You and Scaramouche took the elevator down, holding hands throughout. You felt a little giddy. What must this look like to everyone else? They’d all assume you were out with your boyfriend. As you reached your friends, Aether had just started the car. Kazuha slipped into the passenger seat, and Heizou waved at the both of you.

Then Heizou gasped. Aether turned to you and gasped as well.

“What happened to you? You look like you were mauled by a tiger,” Aether asked, scandalized.

“If the tiger had a short hime cut and a thick wallet, maybe,” Heizou mused. You flipped him off and climbed inside the car. Heizou laughed and sat beside you.

Aether frowned. “What kind of tiger would that be?”

You groaned, burying your face in your palms and wishing that lightning would strike you down. You needed coffee. Or a beer. Maybe if you bat your eyelashes and kissed him on the lips, Scaramouche would buy you bottles of wine.

As if summoned by your thoughts, a figure forced himself in between you and Heizou. Scaramouche worked fast. He glared at Heizou and tugged you away from him.

Heizou’s eyes went wide. “What’d I do?”

“Know your place, Shikanoin,” Scaramouche said. You just wanted to at least not be half-sitting on his lap, but he was proving a point and didn’t let you budge.

Kazuha smiled. “I warned you, Heizou.”

“Damn,” Heizou said. He looked exhausted. He was the one who suggested you and Scaramouche hook up in the first place—did he not expect his intuition to be right this time? “Didn’t take you for the clingy type. Two more days of this?”

“This is not some fling,” Scaramouche hissed. “You think I don’t take this seriously?”

You smiled as your heart fluttered. Scaramouche could be so unintentionally sweet sometimes, not that you’d tell it to his face, because he would grumble and hide his face. You rather liked his face. It was pretty, and you knew that if you tugged his hood down, you’d see a bruise on his neck as well.

“Didn’t take him for a romantic as well,” Kazuha said, thoroughly entertained.

“Wait, are you actually a thing now?” Aether made a face. “What the hell happened in that room?”

Scaramouche smirked. “You sure you wanna know?”

a/n it was already so hard for me to not turn it into a heizou fic dude. That entire first part was so unnecessary i was just hopelessly infatuated. BUT ANYWAY!!1 thank you so much for reading i hope u liked it <3 if u do, leave a comment or a reblog so i can see your thoughts :DD

also, another note: on the day i wrote this fic the insta acc of scara didnt exist. so if it does by the time youve read this fic, its pure coincidence and i have nothing to do w it. or maybe i did, because i came up w the name HAHA

and his voice is a familiar sound | scaramouche

forced proximity + childhood friends reuniting, humor, kissing and tension. suggestive implications and suggestive humor, a bit of scara’s mommy issues, wc 5k

ft. a down bad jealous bf scaramouche, bffs heizou and kazuha, and aether bc aether always has to be there

“If I ask you to come with us for a vacation, would you say yes?”

Your bedroom was already too cramped for one person, with what you could afford with your money after quitting your part-time job. It made it incredibly difficult for all parties involved when you invited someone over, especially when that person had no concept of personal space. You barely looked up from the pages of your book, humming halfheartedly to whatever Heizou is saying. You heard vacation and instantly decided to not waste your time.

Heizou must have sensed these thoughts, too, because he forces himself into your field of view by nearly climbing over your lap. “Hey, look at me. Would you say yes?”

“Heizou!” you hissed, pushing him off before Heizou could wrinkle the pages of the book that’s definitely overdue for borrowing time. You started to think about taking another part-time job if your friends kept inviting themselves over and invading your personal space.

Heizou looked at you, his face doing a complicated combination of a frown and a smug grin. “Come on. You never join us on trips…”

“For good reason,” you said, gesturing to the lapful of Heizou you are currently getting bombarded with.

“You’re so mean,” Heizou laughed, thankfully getting off your lap. He refused to let go of you, however, immediately wrapping an arm over your shoulder and pressing up against your side. This must be one of his techniques to make the people he was questioning feel restricted. It was working. “How will you get yourself to settle for a nice, young man with that attitude? What are you even reading?”

“I grabbed whatever book had a pleasing cover so I can tune your nonsense out.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“What?” Heizou clapped the book shut and turned to you with the eyes of a reprimanding mother. “I swear I’m being serious. Can’t you consider it for even a minute? You’re breaking my heart. Plus, Kazuha’s the one who’s inviting us out.”

Hmm. What a compelling argument. Heizou knew that no one could ever say no to Kazuha. You wouldn’t really care if your absence would break Heizou’s heart, but Kazuha’s disappointed eyes were enough to put a god to their knees.

You zeroed in on Heizou’s wording. “Who’s ‘us’?”

Heizou started listing each with a raise of a finger. “Just Kazuha and Aether—and a friend we met recently. Kazuha invited him.”

You frowned. You didn’t know Aether visited again. “How the hell did Aether get invited?” Then, upon careful reflection: “And who’s the new friend?”

“If he was around, why not, right?” Heizou laughed, carefully setting the overdue book aside from your view. “The new friend’s Scaramouche. Have you met him before?”

What a strange name. Kazuha always managed to befriend people from all over, like a child bringing home turtles and a new species of bugs. You made a note to look him up. “Never heard of him.”

He hummed. “Said he came from Sumeru but he looked pretty Inazuman to me. Funny guy. He’s like a disgruntled baby brother.”

“And you only met him, what, recently? Why is he invited to our group already?” you asked, like the territorial person you are. How come it seemed like you were the last to know about this guy?

Aether was alright. Aether came back every few months to check up on everyone and got roped into all kinds of things with your friends, so you knew him well enough already. You liked his long braid. Heizou and Kazuha had been your friends for as long as you could remember being a college student.

Heizou grinned, patting your head. “Scaramouche’s nice, I promise. You wouldn’t even notice he’s there.”

At your dubious stare, Heizou amended, “C’mon, do you think I’m the type to befriend an asshole?”

Yes, but Heizou wasn’t the type to befriend a major asshole whose opinions he vehemently disagreed with, and he thought belonged better in jail, so you had to think about it for a bit. At the very least, this new guy didn’t seem like a criminal.

Your friends loved traveling, with Kazuha mostly being the culprit, but you liked staying inside most of the time. They never forced you to go with them, so why was Heizou being suspiciously persistent today?

“I think he’s your type,” Heizou finally said, caving in.

“You’re trying to hook me up with him?”

“Not exactly… but you two would seem cute.” He went silent for a thoughtful moment. “I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed if you slept together.”

You made a face.

Heizou laughed brightly. “Alright, alright. You can go back to being the good poster student you are if you promise to think about it. Seriously. Kazuha’s moving to Liyue soon—he’s probably inviting us out because of that.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, reaching around for your book.

You would. What Heizou said about Kazuha made you remember that there are only a few weeks left until this is all over—then, after that, you all might go your separate ways. That thought floated around your mind for a little while as Heizou made himself comfortable on your bed, sighing before he dozed off.

You sighed, shuffling to give him space. “If this is your way of trying to make me get laid, try to at least be subtle and not weird me out before I even meet the guy.”

You stalked Kazuha’s Insta to search up this Scaramouche guy and nearly dropped your phone.

scaramouche11206. It was empty, entirely useless for your research. Scaramouche’s profile was a public account, had zero posts, and had four people he was following. It was Kazuha, Aether, Heizou, and a Vahumana Darshan update page.

You checked the tagged posts, and your jaw dropped to the ground.

Scaramouche was Kunikuzushi.

Heizou was taking a group selfie in the image, his tongue stuck out and winking while the camera showed two other men. On the left was Kazuha, with his ever-polite smile, then on the other, with the all-black getup was what the tags said was scaramouche11206.

It was a little difficult to tell why you were enamoured with the masked face with a short hime cut for a moment, but the piercing stare to the camera couldn’t be mistaken. It was a minute of staring before it clicked. This was your Kunikuzushi.

You dialed Heizou before you could even think about it.

“What…? It’s five a.m.” He sounded like he just woke up, “What’s up?”

You swiped back to the image of Scaramouche, as if staring at it any longer would imprint each pixel to your brain and bring him to life before you. “Hey, where’s Kazuha? Tell him I’m going.”

YEARS AGO.

Summer. The cicadas rang in your ears. They chirped about as you and Kunikuzushi trudged further into the forest. Sunlight peeked through the leaves, splashing Kunikuzushi’s beautiful face in a delicate glow.

Komorebi. Shadows scattered on the ground. Kunikuzushi lifted his head and turned to you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His voice was quiet, but even with the wind and the singing cicadas, you could hear him loud and clear. You could pick out his voice from a crowd. Your heart would know where to find him.

“I like looking at you,” you said. “I like you.”

He accepted the answer and continued walking. You beamed. Usually, Kunikuzushi would scoff and bat your words away, hiding his flustered face. But he didn’t.

Longing. Kunikuzushi turned back to you, stopping in his steps. You nearly bumped onto his back. “Do you like me enough to marry me?”

Was this a marriage proposal? You tried to think of you and Kunikuzushi, walking down aisles and reciting vows, and almost laughed. But then you tried to think of anyone else. You tried to think of a life without Kunikuzushi.

You thought of Kunikuzushi with anyone else and nearly threw up in his face. “You’re the only one for me.”

“Even if I hurt you?”

You frowned. “You would never hurt me, Kuni.”

Kunikuzushi’s expression crumpled. He could never hide anything from you; he was too expressive, eyes round and lip trembling. Your heart sunk to your stomach. You reached for his hands and forced him to look at you. “Kuni, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He looked at the ground. “I said I didn’t want to live with her anymore. I didn’t really think Mom would make Aunt Nahida take me.”

The cicadas faded. The world fell into a hush. Your grip on his hands grew weak. “What?”

Kunikuzushi didn’t have a good relationship with his mother; you knew that. They were complicated. They always fought and he grew up to loathe her. You knew that. But you didn’t think…

You breathed in deeply. It was not Kunikuzushi’s fault. It was not Ei’s—and definitely not Nahida’s fault. It was just the way things go sometimes.

You forced a laugh, hoping to ease the troubled expression on his face. “Were you proposing because you’re moving away?”

Kunikuzushi blushed. “Shut up.”

Your face softened. He was always so cute when his face was as red as the red by his eyes.

Kunikuzushi inhaled sharply, taking your hands and looking at you with a determined glint in his eyes. “If I were going to ask you out, I would do it better than anyone who would try to marry you. So don’t entertain them.”

The trip’s plan was basically swimming when you could, staying at a hotel, driving out of the hotel to eat somewhere cheaper, and it would be stretched out for a few days. All in all, it didn’t sound too bad. With the type of people you were going out with, you were expecting a lot more drinking (Kazuha) and near-death-related activities (Aether). Although Heizou said it was Kazuha’s trip, he was apparently mistaken.

“It was originally for Scaramouche and his family, but his mother had last-minute changes and couldn’t go,” Kazuha explained as he helped you fit your luggage in the trunk of Aether’s car. “Scaramouche said it would be a waste and told me to invite my friends.”

“Woo-hoo, Scaramouche’s mom!” Heizou cheered.

“When we met her, it seemed like you hated her,” Kazuha mused as Heizou climbed inside the car. You were in the passenger seat while the two were shoved in the back. It seemed that even if you moved to a bigger apartment, you’d end up suffocated by Inazuman men either way.

“Hard not to after hearing Scara’s contempt for her. I’m an empath or something.” 

Aether adjusted the side mirrors. “Are we forgetting anything?”

“Where’s the Scaramouche guy?” you asked.

Heizou cast you a sly smile. “He’s already at the hotel, probably buying us other rooms.”

At least another thing about him hadn’t changed: he’s still disgustingly rich. You did some digging about the hotel, and it was the kind of place you could only dream of even looking at. You suddenly felt severely underdressed for a five-star hotel, with only sweatpants, a duffle bag, and a dream.

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Kazuha said, and weirdly enough, you caught him looking at you curiously from the sideview mirror.

“No?” Heizou crossed his arms behind his head. “I doubt Scaramouche’s the type to willingly share a room with anyone.”

Aether scoffed, laughing under his breath. “Definitely not with us.”

You looked outside to hide a smile. It seemed that your Kunikuzushi hadn’t really changed drastically. This made you feel better about meeting him again.

“What made you change your mind?” Heizou asked.

You sighed and fell into step along with him as Kazuha and Aether went on ahead. There are families crowding the lobby, draped in gold that matched the fabric of the chandeliers overhead. Their jewelry was brighter than your future. Even the floor smelled expensive.

“Scaramouche did,” you mumbled.

Heizou’s brows lifted to his hairline. “Oh?”

“I mean—I don’t know, I’m not sure yet.” You were absolutely sure, but it’d be embarrassing if he didn’t recognize you at all, and Heizou would think you were just lying. It had been years.

Heizou tilted his head. “Well, whatever it is, I’m rooting for you. And if he fucks up, I know how to pack a punch.”

You didn’t doubt it. Heizou definitely knew how to pack a punch.

The hotel was so fancy and so meant for only rich kids that you and Heizou stood out like sore thumbs by looking around. Some woman your age walked past, her chin high and her steps light. You and Heizou looked at each other, then tried to mimic the same grace as you pair sashayed towards the desk.

“What are you idiots doing?” Aether asked as you reached them.

“Fitting in, unlike you,” Heizou said.

A new voice cut in. “Took you losers long enough.”

Scaramouche turned around after speaking to the clerk, his mouth in a thin line and his stare piercing. He also stood out next to the men in polo with his fingerless gloves and gold rings. He looked like he belonged better on an Inazuman fashion magazine cover than on a hotel vacation with a bunch of losers.

Heizou beamed. “Scara!”

“Hey,” Scaramouche said, then his eyes landed on you.

It was hard to tell if there was any reaction on his face because Heizou went up to him to ruffle his hair, stealing away his attention.

“Thanks for inviting us out. I didn’t know you were the type to want to snuggle with his friends.” Heizou waggled his eyebrows as Scaramouche pushed him away with a hand to Heizou’s face.

Scaramouche wrinkled his nose. “I am not sharing a room with any of you three. You snore, Kazuha snores louder, and I would wake up to Aether’s leg on my stomach the next morning.”

“That was one time,” Aether muttered, blushing.

“How many rooms are reserved?” Kazuha asked.

Scaramouche sighed, craning his neck. He had a really nice side profile. “Still two. The other one with a king and the other with two queens. I was supposed to have the first, but you didn’t tell me you were inviting someone else. This shithole’s booked full now.”

Your gaze fluttered away as they all turned to you. You bit your lip, frowning. Did Scaramouche not recognize you? He was acting like he didn’t. He was treating you like he would any stranger. That upset you, but for the entire car ride, you were also preparing for it. It probably would’ve hurt worse if you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself.

Heizou grinned, slinging an arm over Scaramouche’s shoulder. “I suppose you have no choice but to share a bed with us.”

“No.” Scaramouche picked up his luggage and started rolling away. “Heizou, Kazuha, Aether, you share the king.”

The three men turned to you instead, surprise visible in their expressions. It was exactly because Scaramouche decided to share a room with you, whom he never acknowledged since you arrived.

You wanted to protest. If Scaramouche didn’t recognize you and opted for a choice that didn’t involve sharing a room with anyone, you’d rather sleep on the floor in Kazuha and the others’ room. But Scaramouche was already stepping inside the elevator and was holding the door for you.

You held your gaze to the floor the entire time as Scaramouche pointed at a room and told the three they would sleep there. Scaramouche flashed the card against the door of your room, then stepped inside.

“This one’s ours,” Scaramouche said. You couldn’t detect any hint of emotion.

The room was bigger than the two rooms at your apartment. It had two beds, as Scaramouche said, and a TV across. The room was cold as fuck. You shuddered, and Scaramouche remained unbothered with his layers of clothes that probably cost more than you.

As Scaramouche set his luggage on the bed closest to the window, you gathered the courage to not make this trip any more awkward.

You breathed in deeply. “I’m Y/N—”

“I haven’t forgotten.” He arched an eyebrow as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at you. “Have you forgotten about me?”

“No, no, of course not,” you said. “I could never forget you, Kunikuzushi.”

You stiffened, thinking it was a mistake and there must’ve been a reason he was called by another name, but you took a look at him and got distracted. His face relaxed when you said his name.

I could never forget you. It was sickeningly true. You can never forget about Kunikuzushi. He was your first love. He was so cute with his wide eyes; and he was very clingy, too, which made him all the more endearing.

But looking at the present Kunikuzushi, with his intense stare and permanently bored expression, he was hot, and you started to think that maybe your type was just Kunikuzushi.

Horror settled in your stomach as Scaramouche flashed a wicked grin.

“Then you wouldn’t mind sleeping with me, would you?”

“He said what?” Heizou cackled, hitting the wall as he threw his head back, laughing.

Scaramouche meant it as sleeping in the same room, but he could have— no, should have worded it better. Scaramouche laid down on his bed right after and went on his phone as if he didn’t say anything at all. You blurted some half-baked excuse and left the room to cry about it in your friends’ room.

When Scaramouche said their room was assigned a king bed, you didn’t expect it to fit five people—and Scaramouche said he wanted it for himself? The bed was incredibly big, almost in a lonely way. You have never seen an Alaskan king bed before, but now, sitting on the edge of it, felt as if you could fit your entire apartment on it.

Kazuha was in between Heizou and Aether, their backs resting on the headboard. They were about to sleep, too, but as soon as you burst in, they settled into position and listened intently. Except Aether, kind of; he was texting his sister, who was demanding a room tour.

“I never thought he would be this bold. I mean, demanding to share a room the moment he laid his eyes on you? Wow,” Heizou said, looking terribly criminal with his expression.

“It is surprising,” Kazuha mused. “I’ve witnessed how women flock to his feet and how he bat them all off like he never saw them.”

An unpleasant feeling washed over, which was weird because why would you be upset? Of course they’d flock to him—with a face like that. He had the looks and the personality that would garner him a lot of masochistic fans if he were a character in a drama.

“Does that happen a lot?” The way you spat it out spelled exactly how upset you are.

“No need to get so jealous, now. After that display, I’m positive that he wants as much as you want him,” Heizou laughed, falling forward and resting his elbows on the mattress. He moved his chin to his palm. He looked like he was going to ask if you wanted to paint nails and curl hairs the next second.

Your face felt hot. What was this conversation? You’d much prefer painting nails than talking about this. “I don’t want him!”

Heizou arched an eyebrow. “No?”

Even Kazuha looked doubtful, which was enough of a blow.

“I’m just confused,” you insisted. “You know what happens when you’re in a room alone with an objectively attractive guy? You get confused.”

“I get it,” Aether said, setting his phone aside to share his insight. “This is your sexual awakening.”

“What? No!”

“It definitely is,” Heizou agreed. “Why else are you crying about this to us?”

There was a sense of impending doom at realizing that Heizou was brewing some horrible, horrible thoughts in that head of his. “To stop feeding into my madness!”

Heizou clicked his tongue. “How do you think he feels? His childhood best friend came back to his life looking like that—I’m surprised he hasn't eaten you right up yet.”

You didn’t know what was more horrifying: Heizou implying he thought you were hot, or him implying that he thought Scaramouche thought you were hot.

Your face must’ve looked like a constipated mix between flustered and horrified; Kazuha chimed in to tell Heizou, “You should be more careful with your words. I’ve never met anyone as possessive as Scaramouche.”

“It’s already a miracle he even remembers me. He wouldn’t get jealous. I doubt he actually wants me that way,” you sighed.

“Oh, but you want him that way?” Heizou asked.

You wanted to slap that expression off Heizou’s face. “Of course I do. He was so cute when we were little—I already liked him then. I didn’t think he’d grow up to be so…”

“Sexual awakening,” Aether said again.

“Ow,” Aether whined when you hit him square on the head.

Reluctantly, you returned to your room. Heizou, Kazuha, and Aether told you to get your shit together and face this not-sexual-awakening like a man. Kazuha didn’t say it, but you could feel that he was also thinking it. And if he ever said it out loud, you’d tell him to go fuck off to Liyue already.

Scaramouche was awake. The door clicked shut, and you faintly felt like those heroines locking themselves up in a room to hook up with someone who they didn’t think was the murderer on the front page right now.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

You tried not to let your surprise show, but Scaramouche was staring so intently that you would’ve failed miserably either way. “The other room.”

The longer you looked at him, the more you realized that Kunikuzushi felt like a fever dream. Being only a few feet away from the guy you used to be so fond of, now grown and had an air of haughtiness that would’ve been a turn-off had it been anyone else— it was doing things to you.

“Are you scared of me?”

You laughed and nearly choked on it when registering that Scaramouche was still looking. It wasn’t something like embarrassment. It was more like laughing unabashedly and then sensing that your hallway crush walked past. Maybe it was a bit of embarrassment.

“No. No, I’m not scared.” You moved to sit on your bed, eyes trained on the wall. “You didn’t tell me you were back.”

“You changed your number. You moved out.”

“Oh.” You did do that. Your apartment was very far from your home.

“And I figured you forgot about me or wanted to forget about me because of what I did to you.”

“Oh.” You wanted to say that he didn’t affect you that much. Life goes on; you meet new people and lose them every day, and all that. But Scaramouche was affecting you that much, especially when he’s only a few feet away from you, looking like he wanted you to pounce him.

Scaramouche grinned lopsidedly. “But I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

What the hell does that mean? Your heart skipped a beat. Did he figure it out? Were you that obvious with your thoughts about pouncing?

Scaramouche stood up from his bed, moving towards yours slowly. “Are you seeing anyone right now?”

You tried to avoid getting too close by leaning back, but he kept drawing his face closer, bending towards you. You’re one last tilt away from him pinning you down on the bed.

“No,” you blurted before you could even think about it. It was a little difficult to think about anyone else when you were a breath away from kissing. “Why?”

Scaramouche’s eyes narrowed, electric indigo. “Do you still have a crush on me?”

“You’re asking too many questions.”

“We’re catching up. This is how it works, doesn’t it?”

No, it was definitely not how this worked. Your neck was starting to ache with this awkward angle, and he hadn’t even answered your question.

“Do you?” he repeated, hovering above you.

You gave up on the painful angle and laid flat on the bed, frowning up at him. You crossed your arms to achieve the stance of someone who will not back down easily. “How are you so sure I even had a crush on you?”

“You’re telling me I’m wrong?”

What was this? Some fucked up game of 21 questions, but Scaramouche was too high and mighty to follow the rules? You didn’t know what to say to that. You wisely decided to stay silent, glaring up at him.

You probably didn’t look intimidating at all. Scaramouche smiled, much less sharper. Almost fond as his eyes flicked down to somewhere below your nose. “Am I still the only one for you?”

Okay. You would back down easily if he kept looking at you like that.

“You didn’t hurt me, Kuni.” You sighed. “You never could.”

Scaramouche straightened, his face carefully blank. It was much harder to read him like this. You sat up, wanting to ask if it was the wrong thing to say. You couldn’t get the words out because he lunged for a kiss.

You might have gasped. You might have made some embarrassing noise while a laugh rumbled from the back of Scaramouche’s throat. But that was all thrown out the window the moment your eyes fluttered shut and you lost yourself in the sensation of his warm mouth on yours.

He pushed closer, and you were pulled back on the mattress, his arms on either side of your head. Your eyes flew open when Scaramouche nipped at your lip. As if suddenly remembering where and who you were, you forced his chest back and gaped.

“What?” He looked irritated you interrupted him.

“At least say it back!”

“You didn’t even say it,” Scaramouche said, one eyebrow raised.

“I like you, Kunikuzushi.”

Scaramouche turned red and then looked humbled that you saw it. “I still like you, too.”

You looked at him up and down. You asked, but you didn’t want to hear the answer. “And you didn’t have anyone while you were in Sumeru?”

“Of course not,” Scaramouche scoffed. “You think anyone there was worth my time? You think I’d settle for less than you?” He scowled. “How about you? Nevermind, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. I’d do it better than any of them.”

You laughed, tugging him close with your arms around his neck. If anyone were to come in, they would assume the worst. Then again, maybe Scaramouche had plans to indulge in the worst.

wake up! let’s eat breakfast at the restaurant we saw yesterday!

ask scaramouche. so he can pay for us

Despite the freedom and space of lying on separate queen beds, you and Scaramouche were huddled and pressed close. And despite books in your bag, you were occupied with huddling and pressing close against Scaramouche. You were lying on his chest while he had an arm resting on your stomach.

As soon as Heizou’s texts appeared on the top banner of your screen, you looked up, and Scaramouche looked like he was going to murder someone.

“It’s a joke, probably,” you said. “They don’t see you as a wallet.”

“It’s not a joke,” Scaramouche said. “I don’t really care about that. You and Heizou close?”

“He’s the one who introduced me to Kazuha and the others.” You sat up from the comfortable position and stretched.

“So you’re close.”

“Oh, very much so.” Then you laughed at Scaramouche’s thunderous expression. “Idiot. Why are you jealous? He’s not the one I’m sharing a room with and was making out with last night.”

Scaramouche’s gaze cut down to your neck. He looked extremely pleased.

You and Scaramouche took the elevator down, holding hands throughout. You felt a little giddy. What must this look like to everyone else? They’d all assume you were out with your boyfriend. As you reached your friends, Aether had just started the car. Kazuha slipped into the passenger seat, and Heizou waved at the both of you.

Then Heizou gasped. Aether turned to you and gasped as well.

“What happened to you? You look like you were mauled by a tiger,” Aether asked, scandalized.

“If the tiger had a short hime cut and a thick wallet, maybe,” Heizou mused. You flipped him off and climbed inside the car. Heizou laughed and sat beside you.

Aether frowned. “What kind of tiger would that be?”

You groaned, burying your face in your palms and wishing that lightning would strike you down. You needed coffee. Or a beer. Maybe if you bat your eyelashes and kissed him on the lips, Scaramouche would buy you bottles of wine.

As if summoned by your thoughts, a figure forced himself in between you and Heizou. Scaramouche worked fast. He glared at Heizou and tugged you away from him.

Heizou’s eyes went wide. “What’d I do?”

“Know your place, Shikanoin,” Scaramouche said. You just wanted to at least not be half-sitting on his lap, but he was proving a point and didn’t let you budge.

Kazuha smiled. “I warned you, Heizou.”

“Damn,” Heizou said. He looked exhausted. He was the one who suggested you and Scaramouche hook up in the first place—did he not expect his intuition to be right this time? “Didn’t take you for the clingy type. Two more days of this?”

“This is not some fling,” Scaramouche hissed. “You think I don’t take this seriously?”

You smiled as your heart fluttered. Scaramouche could be so unintentionally sweet sometimes, not that you’d tell it to his face, because he would grumble and hide his face. You rather liked his face. It was pretty, and you knew that if you tugged his hood down, you’d see a bruise on his neck as well.

“Didn’t take him for a romantic as well,” Kazuha said, thoroughly entertained.

“Wait, are you actually a thing now?” Aether made a face. “What the hell happened in that room?”

Scaramouche smirked. “You sure you wanna know?”

a/n it was already so hard for me to not turn it into a heizou fic dude. That entire first part was so unnecessary i was just hopelessly infatuated. BUT ANYWAY!!1 thank you so much for reading i hope u liked it <3 if u do, leave a comment or a reblog so i can see your thoughts :DD

also, another note: on the day i wrote this fic the insta acc of scara didnt exist. so if it does by the time youve read this fic, its pure coincidence and i have nothing to do w it. or maybe i did, because i came up w the name HAHA

RIN FUCKING ITOSHI HURT/COMFORT PLEASE! AFTER THE ITOSHI FIGHT, RIN COMES TO THE READER ALL UPSET!!

Itoshi Shaped Puddle

an: Absolutely! I adore rin so much it’s unreal ><. Im having a random motivation burst but its also midnight so please forgive me if this sucks.

character: (A very floppy) Rin Itoshi

CW: Angst with comfort, Rin being awkward, Reader goes into the mens locker room but the whole team has left its just Rin, Maybe OOC, Mentions of Sae Itoshi and Isagi Yoichi.

You had been waiting for Rin to come find you after the game for 20 minutes now, the rest of the team had already trickled out of the locker rooms, but your boyfriend was nowhere to be found. The sounds of the crowd from the stadium had died down as people left back to their homes. After you’re sure that you’re alone, you call Rin. No reply.

With a sigh of defeat, you poke your head into the locker rooms to look for Rin. After poking around for a bit, you find your usually stoic boyfriend huddled up in a corner, his face wet with tears that he was clearly trying to hide. 

“Go away.” He was clearly upset, but also trying his best not to look whiney and pathetic now that you’re here. Despite his command, you sit on the tiled floor and pull him into a tight hug, earning you grumbles of annoyance.

“I told you to go away.” Rin is clearly trying to avoid your gaze as he stares at the wall beside you.

“I will if you tell me what's wrong.” Rin huffs in response and tries to cross his arms. “You played well, so what's bothering you?”

Rin stays silent before eventually sighing, “Why did Sae pick Isagi over me?” You start to gently stroke his hair as his sobbing picks up again. “Why can Isagi change soccer in Japan but not me?”

“Well, your brother is stupid for saying that. You were the best on the team out there. He shouldn’t be taking out his obliviousness on you.” Rin hums as he starts to melt into your touch, and you can feel his muscles relax s he leans against you. “You’re so talented, Rin and there's something wrong with anyone who can’t see that.”

Rin hums again, your affirmations helping him to calm himself. “I’m sorry that I'm being so pathetic right now, just…don’t leave me, please?”

“Never in a million years.”

Summary: Nagi finds out your secret, so now your relationship with him changes while you're still gaining new members for your team. You pass to the third selection, waiting for Chigiri to come, when the Top 6 players are announced, will you be on it?

Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 -> Masterlist

…"Come, Isagi Yoichi, you can have a front row seat of my ascension to the world's number one"

A few seconds pass before Isagi stands up, starting walking alongside Bachira before he turns around

"You guys, I'm sorry" he says "we…we were just one step short of beating them, that last goal was pure luck it's no-"

"Shut up" you cut him off, trying your hardest to not look so in pain "he chose you, that's it, so leave"

"What Yn said" you heard Barou, and then Nagi said something too, but you were too in pain to properly pay attention to any words. You noticed that he turned around and left, your body finally starting to give up on you.

The moment the gate closed, you started feeling like you were falling, almost hitting the floor completely if it wasn't for an arm wrapping itself around your waist. You didn't quite pass out this time, but you were barely conscious as you feel whoever was holding you help you pass your arm through his neck

"Hey, can you walk?" You hear by your side

"I…guess" you barely managed to answer. You hear a sigh before some arms lift you out of the floor in bridal style, quickly going to the locker room

"You. Let him sit there for a few minutes and find a way to help him gain air, I'll go to try to find someone" you hear while slowly helping you sit on the bench. Thanks to the change in lighting you can see a white hair in front of you as the black hair leaves the room.

You didn't notice when Nagi made you take off your white vest, let alone when he managed to take the top part off your body, leaving you just with the binder on.

"Hey, I'm unclipping this, you need to breathe properly"

You hear, but the words don't fully process until you feel Nagi's hand unclipping the front of your binder. Your hand moves instinctively, trying to stop him, but he's faster and stronger than you, so he grabs your wrist and fully unclips it. You finally are able to grasp a full breath of air, moving your other hand just in time to cover your chest as your head starts to clear up.

You were topless, your breasts were clearly visible, and Nagi was in front of you.

"I…I can…I can explain" you say, eyes wide open. Nagi was, understandably, looking at your chest confused, a blush quickly started spreading across his face.

"...you better have a good one" he says turning around, giving you one of his clean sweater "put this on for now"

You put the top, so big on your body that was able to fully cover the existence of your chest. By now you weren't dizzy anymore since you were properly breathing again, but your body still felt sore. You tap Nagi's shoulder

"I'm done" you whisper, Nagi turns around, looking at the side awkwardly

“So…this is why you never shower with any of us?” he says, still sounding nonchalant despite of his face

“Yeah, you guys are not supposed to know about this”

“But why? You're amazing, but isn't this supposed to become the best striker in the world…? you're a girl"

"It's a long story…basically i was a-"

"Here is the idiot" Barou enters alongside Anri, who looks bewildered at you "Take him to get checked or something, we can't afford to lose that ass because of how careless he is"

"Sure, come with me Yn" she says to you, so you move to stand up forgetting that your legs were still feeling like jelly. You stumble, almost falling if it wasn't for Nagi once again, who grabs you one more time to help you walk towards Anri "I'll take it from here, I'll make sure he's okay"

Anri helps you out towards an empty room that was equipped with a simple futon on top of a table. She helped you sit down there, passing you some water

"Everything alright? I watched the match with Ego-san, you were really good" she says, making you nod "he was kind of impressed by your team, how much all of you evolved"

"Thanks" you say "if…i wanted to tell someone about…well, me…how do you think Ego-san will react?" You ask shyly

"Huh? Well, I can't say he would be pleased if you did that…but then again, he did want you to only help him for the first selection. Why are you asking me?"

"Just wondering, after all at some point I'll have to leave, and i would like to tell my friends the truth"

"I see, you're probably worried about whether they'll still be your friends after…I'll talk to Ego-san about it, now go to take a shower so you can go to rest"

You did exactly that, you were feeling much better with a proper shower, but now all your body was in so much pain that you just wanted to lay down. You go back to the three bed dorm, collapsing in the single bed as soon as you get there.

"Oh, you're back" you hear after a few minutes "are you okay?"

"Yeah, i just ran way too much today" you say, sitting in the bed to face Nagi

"You did good" he moves to pay your head, stopping right before touching it as he looks at you "is it okay? You don't mind me doing this?"

"You don't have to treat me any different, as long as you're comfortable with it it's alright…you can keep seeing me as a dude if you want"

"That wouldn't be fair to you..i bet you're pretty confused about all of this, after all it has been a few months of being referred as a dude" he says finally ruffling your hair before sitting next to you

"I can't deny that it has been rather…confusing, i thought everything will be okay, but i feel like it's slowly making me insane"

"I imagine, i guess it would be better if you just did it throughout the day, but here you have to pretend to be a boy 24/7"

"Yeah, it's hard, I'm starting to feel like an imposter in my own body…aren't you mad at me? I'm not the person you thought i was"

"Why would I be? The only difference is that you're a girl instead of a boy, and i like your personality, so it's not like there's much change for me" he simply shrugs "you can be your true self around me, at least it will help you release some tension"

"Thanks" you sigh, slowly you lay your head on his shoulder, finally being able to relax a bit more. You both stayed like this for a few more minutes before you remembered "did you tell Barou?"

"No. It's your secret, not mine"

"Thanks, can you keep it a secret though? You guys shouldn't know about this"

"I can, but i think you should tell Chigiri about this, he's your friend too" he takes his phone out, starting to play a game. Despite him finding out the secret he didn't seem to be too affected by it, still treating you as he did previously. Must be a Nagi thing, he didn't seem to care about it, so you decided to tell him the full truth

"I have known Ego-san since I was a kid. I was the only girl in my neighborhood, so I often played soccer with the other kids. That's why now he asked me to join, he wanted to have a special person that can help the boys to fully evolve"

"Ahhh, so you're like a spy then. That's really cool, you're cool Yn-chan" he answers, making you chuckle

"You could say so, yeah"

"You know, this makes it a little bit clearer for me" he starts saying as the game on his phone shows that he lost. He turns to look at you, with almost a boring expression "I like being with you; at first i thought that it was similar to Reo, that we were friends, but it felt different and i didn't know why"

"Eh?" You look at him wide eyed, was he saying what you think he's saying? If it was, how come he looked so nonchalant? Your face started to feel warm. "What do you me-"

"I thought you were here, idiot, i brought you your dinner" Barou enters the room with a tray of food, sounding and looking rather annoyed "considering your state, I'll allow you to eat here"

"Thanks" you say, fully aware of your redness as Nagi restarts his game. You could swear there was a tiny smirk on his face. Barou looks at both of you rather confused, but he doesn't say a word about it

"I'll be nice today and let you take that bed, i doubt you can stand anyway" he passes you the tray, fried chicken on it "but you better be in good shape for tomorrow match or I'll kick your ass myself"

"I'll be, don't worry. Thanks for the food" you start eating as both of them start talking about the next match, how you should work things out and who could complement you. You couldn't help but feel some lightness in your chest at the thought of finally being able to be yourself with someone, even if it was just one person that knew for now, it still feels rather good.

You won the next two matches, gaining Zantetsu and Kiyora Jin, an all rounder that had a whole eye covered. It was right after the reunion with Ego in which he announced that you would have a 5 vs 5 match against world class players, leaving some of you confused.

"I see…so we have to…cut corners?" Zantetsu asks looking at his book and adjusting his glasses

"Eh..nope. Not really" you say trying to not laugh

"BakaZantetsu" says Nagi, taking his phone out and laying down on the floor, his head on your leg as he opens his game. He seems much more comfortable with skinship between you two, the rest just assuming his lazy side was taking over with you since you two know each other the longest "are they good?"

"You're kidding? They're one of the best players out there, playing for the most respected teams in the world. The buzzcut one plays for his national team and is only 17" you rumble

"Wow, that's so cool. And we'll play them?"

"Yeah, if anything, i bet that this isn't even for us to win, just to show us how behind we actually are"

"This will be a challenge, it'll be…easy peasy? Is that right? I think that's right" Zantetsu adds

"I'm surrounded by idiots," Barou sighs "No matter what or who it is, we'll win. I'm going to eat now"

And just like you said, you sadly lost that match. You weren't even able to score a single goal against those players, overwhelming your team to no end.

You are now entering the third selection joint room, where every team that has passed will join in the order they clear the previous one. You were the second team to clear the stage, so you saw Isagi and Bachira already there.

"Sup" Nagi tells them

"It feels like we saw each other forever ago" you say

"I'm here, you scrub" Barou adds

"Heyy! Zantetsu is with you too!" Bachira screams at you, waving his hand

"You guys…" Isagi says as you approach him

"Huh? Why do you look so relieved, isagi? Don’t tell me you actually thought we might not make it?" Nagi says, squinting his eyes

"Eh? No, no…That’s not it"

"You bastard, you were totally looking down on us! You cocky little…" Barou grabs Isagi by his t-shirt

"You're still treating us like your supporting cast, huh?" You add, hitting his back lightly

"That's not it.. I'm just really happy to be able to see you again guys" Isagi says, making you hit the back of his head

"Like i will lose" you say, making him chuckle

"Of course we were going to see each other again, i wasn't going to let it end here after losing to you" Nagi answers

"I promised to kill you, and I haven't even beaten those top 4; hell, I haven't even beaten Yn and he's in the top 2!" Adds Barou

"Yeah, there's more games for us yet!" Isagi says, if only he knew that you could leave at any moment

«Moving on! Next team, please enter»

The voice comes out of the speaker, making you all look towards the door. You were hoping to see Chigiri coming from that door soon, you kinda miss his remarks through this. Suddenly you feel some weight in your shoulders, two arms passing through your chest in a lazy manner as a chin is on top of your head

"Ahh, standing is such a pain" Nagi says lazily, looking at the door with you as he whispers in your ear "we'll see them soon, Yn-chan, don't worry"

"I know, but I'm still worried"

When the next team enters, you notice the Yukimiya dude that you talked with briefly before alongside people you've never seen, one looking like the captain of the volleyball team of your school. Not a sign of Chigiri or Reo so far. More teams come in, by the sixth one you meet again with Raichi and Gagamaru, which means…

"Just one more team left, and Chigiri, Reo or Kunigami hasn't come yet"

"Yeah, they'll come, they have to" Nagi unconsciously leaned slightly closer.

The door lifts up slowly, igaguri and the boy with only one braid coming first. You're nervous while waiting for the other two shadows to come out, breathing relief as you see Reo and Chigiri appear.

"Reo!"

"Chigiri!" Both you and Nagi exclaim at the same time, a smile appearing on the red hair when he sees you, a smile that soon disappears as the last person of his team starts to appear. A tall and tanned skin dude, with spiky hair.

«That is the the last of those who will advance to the third selection»

"Did…did Kunigami lose?" You ask Chigiri while Isagi asked Reo, the spiky dude was saying something to Isagi

"I…didn't see him, I assumed he was here" the red hair answers, looking just as distressed. Suddenly a pit on your stomach appeared, guilt starting to build up. You weren't supposed to be here in the first place, in a way you took Kunigami's place by playing, and that will only continue to happen the longer you keep being here

"...a shitty hero like him with all his purity and seriousness, was just a slime that couldn't even give me a power up" you hear, which make you raise your eyebrows

"I'm gonna kill him" you whisper angry, cracking your knuckles and almost going to him if it wasn't because two hands take your arm

"Don't" Nagi says

"You're not match for him" Chigiri teases you while looking annoyed at him too "you think Kunigami will let you do that?"

"...Shut up" you say, making him chuckle right before he instinctively reacts to grab Isagi out of the way of that spiky dude, who tried to kick him.

Nagi grabs your arm a bit tighter, moving you slightly so you can avoid any confrontation

"I don't like him, he give me the creeps" you say

"Me neither, don't get close to him" Nagi tells you right when Ego appears on the TV

"Alright, that's enough, you unpolished gemstones, any further violence and I'll have you forcibly eject" Ego says. You sigh, ignoring him like you always do whenever he goes on a rant about something; but from the corner of your eye you can see Reo looking at you and Nagi, the latter shamelessly having his arms draping on your body as he rest himself on you

"Following up in the third selection, after the language studies, well… some things came up, i’d originally planned on whittling down the group until only five of you remained, but there’s been a change of plans" you started paying attention once again, in the very beginning Ego had give you a light overlook of how the selection process was going to be, so that now he changed of plans was unusual "It seems that the overlords of the Japanese football world have made up their minds to stamp out blue lock as soon as possible, which is why i’ve fired back at them with a challenge. So, your next selection will be in three weeks. It’ll be a match with the continued existence of blue lock at stake…japan national u-20 team vs blue lock select 11-member team…if you win this game, blue lock will hijack the japanese national u-20 team"

"Bro, that's insane" you say, everyone in the room was surprised by said words, understandably so. Nagi fully stands up, just as surprised as everyone else.

"...well our opponents will also use every card they have available, so they'll add one member to their rooster…Itoshi Sae" he says, you move your eyes towards Rin, who seems surprised about his brother joining the opponents team "LET'S GO, YOU UNPOLISHED GEMSTONES, THE ONES TO CHANGE THIS ERA WILL BE BLUE LOCK!"

Everyone stays surprisingly quiet for a few seconds, everyone seeming to be processing this whole lot of information given. So now you´ll have a match against the Japan U-20 team? You could understand that the people of the JFA wanted to shut down this project, you cant imagine just how much money all of this would have cost, but even if they think they´d would win, this is such an amazing opportunity, a good chunk of blue lock members will be able to join the national team if you win. After a few seconds a few boys started to question how the 11 members will be chosen, and overall questioned how forwards will be playing in different positions.

"The formation of the blue lock team will center around the following six names I will now call out. Given your overall evaluations as of this moment, these individuals rank as the “Top 6” with the goal of putting together a team in just three short weeks, this method will be our best shot. Those who are called, step forward" Ego says, the ambience changing one more time to expectations "The overall N°1, Itoshi RIn, N°2 Shidou Ryusei.."

“Agh, that bastard is that good? How annoying” you whisper, a few chuckles from Chigiri and Nagi

“Stop having beef with the top players” Chigiri nudges you playfully

"Next, N°3 YN…" Ego continues

"Eh?" You say at hearing your name

"That's our friend!" Chigiri now ruffles your hair, Nagi joining as Isagi and Bachira both extend their hands to high five you

"Moving on…N°4 Karasu Tabito; N°5 Yukimiya Kenyu and lastly N°6 Nagi Seishiro"

"Hey, we're in the Top 6" you lightly hit his chest playfully

"Of course we are" in that moment Yukimiya asks something to Ego, explaining how the order of the ranking was selected; you chuckle when the old Team Z members start whispering surprised at the fact that he was a model

"First, the Top 6 will separate into pairs in descending order and will be assigned A, B and C rank" continues Ego, meaning that you were in a group with Tabito and whoever else chooses your team "This is the final task of the revised third selection with a position as a regular on Japan's national U-20 team on the line. IT'S TIME FOR YOUR TRYOUTS"

"We won't be on the same team, bummer" you hear Nagi say "you should have placed lower"

"Or you could have placed higher" you retort, nudging him lightly

"First, the Top 6, you all will proceed to a different room" Ego says while the door underneath the Tv starts opening, you start walking towards there alongside Nagi as you wave your hand to your friends

"Pleasure to see you again" you hear beside you, Yukimiya smiles at you. He was undeniable attractive

"Same here, and to think we could have team up in the second selection" you answer, making him chuckle

"Right? We could have been an amazing team, considering that both of us are in the Top 6" you nod to his comment, sitting on one of the puffs that were in the room as Nagi sits on the floor, his head laying on your leg. The TV seems to be on a waiting screen, only displaying the words 'Top 6 VIP Room'.

Nothing has gone to plan so far, you should have left a while ago, but somehow now you were in the Top 6 players out of this project; besides, you didn't know how much more will you be able to pretend to be a guy without feeling guilty for taking someone else spot..How long will you be able to last?

"Oi, you alright?" Nagi asks you, making you snap out of your thoughts

"I am…just thinking"

"Hello, hello diamonds in the rough. By fighting to come this far all of you have undoubtedly proven your place as Blue Lock's elite" Ego says as he keep explaining his ideals "... And don't you dare have your position taken by someone not in the Top 6, you all stand at the very peak of Blue Lock. The football that you create will become the blades that destroy Japanese football, remember that. I want to see all of you rise up for the challenge"

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Taglist: @suyaaachin - @anurst - @celestair - @futuristicxie - @miyanaranagikenmal-intp - @kaldurahms-lover