#why is there almost nothing about naturally blonde people dying their hair that is so weird | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

riversimmone · 7 months

Text

Reason to Breathe

Reason To Breathe

RiverOfTheSand

Summary:

AU GaaSaku. The train stopped suddenly and she fell into his arms. Her panic had disappeared, only to be replaced by a far more pleasant sensation; and she was falling all over again.

Notes:

This one-shot is a result of a dare after a conversation a while back about how much I love the pairing, and this idea came from a song, surprise, surprise. It's Longer by Delta Goodrem. God, I love Delta's music – old and new. :) Anyway, I know the Tokyo Rails are a lot busier than I've indicated here. But for the purposes of this fic, it's only crazy in the morning (during the normal rush hour). Rated T. I hope you all enjoy. :)

There was nothing like doing something she hated only to find a reason to love it. The contradictory sentiments were like a breath of fresh air, and Kami knew, she needed something to shake up the funk she'd been in since moving to Tokyo. City streets, neon lights… the night before her first day at work was like any other. She arrived at her new apartment, annoyed at the blonde who'd almost driven them into a ditch on the highway. Ino Yamanaka was a hell cat behind the wheel, and had no regrets, the under worked, over paid bitch.

This was how Sakura Haruno had found herself forced to take the train.

There was something to be said for stepping outside of her comfort zone – when it went bad, she could strangle that blonde bimbo calling herself her best friend, guilt free. She was already imagining what it would feel like to have her hands locking around Ino's throat and squeezing.

And what was it exactly that she'd found herself loving? That first day on the subway, and the months that followed. She'd imagined the boredom of the railway would induce a stupor and on her first day, she'd either be hyperventilating or asleep when her station drew alongside the locomotive. Sakura imagined that once she'd woken up (or calmed down), nothing and no-one could make her get back on that train.

Ino was always telling her she had no imagination.

The first day started out as expected (due mostly to her preconceptions), but it did get better... and in the most delicious way possible – in the form of an "on sight" crush. She didn't know how else to describe the reaction she'd had to him. But, first things first, her first impression of the underground train station had been a bad one. And to make matters worse, the idea of taking the subway had always made her want to gag. It wasn't like there was smog or the stench of human waste – no, the subway of Greater Japan was immaculate and blah, blah, blah… no, the sensation of wanting to heave up her breakfast came from knowing she would be stuck in rush hour and forced to stand close to other people. It made her as uncomfortable as having to avoid eye contact with the multitude of people who would stare at her.

The dark haired people milling about her blended right in, but she didn't; Kami knew why she just had to have natural pink hair. Sakura had dyed it, crimped it, cut it, and curled it so many times that her doctor told her not to do it anymore. She'd spent her whole life hiding from the abnormality that was her.

'One more time and you'll be poisoning yourself, at least more than you already have.'

Wishing she was still living in Konoha (where the easiest way to get around didn't involve bunching up in the scorching heat and pretending she wasn't inhaling someone else's body odour), Sakura stared at the ticket vending machine; the stupid thing wouldn't accept her ¥2,000 bill. Glaring wouldn't change anything, no matter how much venom she put into it. She'd never taken the train before today, so just decided on a Tokyo Metro One-Day Pass for this one time; it couldn't hurt, right? She'd only be taking the train twice – to and from work – so it was probably a waste, but right now, she didn't care.

Sulkily retrieving her ticket, Sakura made her way through the Fare Gate, waited at the platform, and let out a disgruntled sigh at the sight of the incoming Tokyo Metro ‒ this was the Marunouchi Line. She hated it already. But she'd started a new job that required an earlier arrival time – the rapid transit of the underground subway was her only option other than waking up at two o'clock in the morning and walking for hours.

The morning rush hour was killing her – the women-only car she was told she could take, was completely full. Sakura had the choice between waiting for the next train (that would make her late to work) and boarding one of the normal cars. Since there were other women in said cars, she felt comfortable enough to risk it this one time.

But the staring was grating on her nerves. Most of the passengers were men in suits, and she found it incredibly intimidating – she was wearing her uniform already, a dark blue vest over her white blouse and knee length pleated skirt. She felt self-conscious, since the only other women in the car were dressed more formally (pants, whatever – it was smart and unlike her clothes, fit like a glove). She was out of sorts in this kind of environment.

At the first stop, when the doors opened, she realised she was going to have to stand up. The woman waddling toward her was the epitome of what Sakura disliked – someone or something she felt obligated to think of over herself. But she stood, stepped aside, and offered her seat. It was the proper thing to do after all. Shifting away from the courtesy seat, Sakura responded to the grateful "thank-you" with a "you're welcome" from the heavily pregnant woman. She tried to weave her way through the mass of bodies and away from the end of the car; she was instead immediately blocked by the arrival of more men in suits. She felt stifled, panic rising up in her chest, and quickly closed her eyes.

'Focus, Sakura – it's just a train ride. No-one here is going to rub themselves up against you or leer inappropriately.'

She hated crowds.

The train jerked, and she snapped her eyes open as it moved. One of the men who'd stepped in front of her was now staring at her. He wasn't leering, but there was a sort of sympathy in his eyes – the kindness in the soft green colour drew her attention first. Then her eyes flickered upwards and she realised the man had short, dark red hair. He stood out as much as she did, it would seem, but no-one was staring at him.

She was lost for words, a blush appearing on her cheeks as he continued to stare at her. While the other passengers gawked at her hair or occasionally spared her a curious glance, his eyes were set firmly on hers.

'Oh god, oh Kami…'

Time seemed to stand still and she was captivated. Sakura flagrantly stared back at him, her hand moving to the metal pole he was clinging to as she moved instinctively closer to him. He held tightly to said pole, barely moving as the train came to a stop. It was another station – Sakura hadn't realised it, but she'd been staring at this mystery man for almost twenty minutes – how many times had they stopped and then started again?

Blush lined her cheeks at this realisation, but she didn't look away; she couldn't. The expression on his face was guarded, so she wasn't sure if this man was checking her out or just rude. Finally opening her mouth to say something, she was cut off by the sudden motion of the train; she stumbled forward and his free hand came up to stop her fall. He caught her, his arm slinging around her shoulder; she inhaled deeply, his very masculine scent making her tremble.

"Th-thanks…" She muttered, pulling away from him.

She decided to interpret this as a sign to stop talking – etiquette on board subway trains in Japan demanded they didn't anyway – she'd read it in a book. But it was disappointing; she wanted to know his name, among other things.

He smiled at her – it was brilliant, the way it lit up his face and seemed to highlight a light shade of pink along his cheeks. She wasn't the only one so taken, it seemed. Sakura smiled back, trying to ease the nervousness flitting about her stomach; the butterflies had become acrobats instantly, doing things she'd never thought possible. It seemed to show on her face because the red head was smirking now; his free hand moved from her shoulder to her elbow and clung tightly. He wasn't making some sleazy move on her, but his face was smug nonetheless.

Arrogant might be a better word.

They continued to stare at each other, though Sakura tried desperately to look away from him. The last thing she needed was to be near another man that took pleasure in her discomfort. She inhaled deeply, keeping the station number of every stop in her peripherals, and making no move to relieve herself of this man's grip. His hand felt oddly comforting against her bare skin (the sleeves of her blouse didn't quite make it to her elbows), and he was at least distracting her from her panic of being so surrounded.

The ride to the Shinjuku-Sanchōme Station came too soon, and she reluctantly moved toward the exit. She didn't realise at first, lost in her reverie, that the red haired man was following her. She'd never been so taken by someone like this before, and she supposed his good looks helped. But it also made her wary. She looked back after disembarking, only to find him barely a foot away from her, before turning to face him.

"I'm Gaara," he said, his voice husky and making her tremble.

"S-Sakura," she stammered and mentally slapped herself.

His head jerked to the side suddenly and something must have caught his attention – she didn't look, wanting him to keep talking. But Gaara was already moving away.

"See you later," he said, and she missed the strained hope in his voice.

Sakura nodded. "Yeah."

The rest of the day went by slowly, like Kami was trying to torture her. Her new job entailed data entry as well as organising – the latter would broaden to company fundraisers and the such after she passed the one month mark of working here. But despite the tedium, Sakura didn't mind it – sorting things into their proper place was like second nature to her anyway. She wondered if Gaara had been heading to work, despite the sleek business suit he'd been wearing. It was obvious, but for all she knew, he'd been heading to a funeral, or some early morning… function… or whatever.

"Blaargh!" She pulled a face at the so-called cuisine when lunch rolled around. It was slop: nothing more and nothing less. It would be worth it to spend most of her lunch time looking for a decent food court outside of the cafeteria at work.

And again, her thoughts drifted to Gaara.

"I think I'm getting obsessed."

She needed to stop these thoughts – chances were that she'd never see Gaara again. That was a depressing commentary and worse than her musing on what he was doing and thinking ‒ and whether or not he was thinking about her. Ino was going to make fun of her for it, and the pinkette had no-one else to confide in, so she steeled herself for the inevitable questions and judgements as she clocked out. The walk back to the station was numbing, and she didn't realise at first, as she moved toward the women-only car, that Gaara was there again.

His hand shot out, grabbing her elbow again; she let out a small yelp as he steered her away from the car he wasn't allowed in. She spun with Gaara's rough pull and realised then that he had started to tug her down into a seat. She made a small hiccupping sound on contact with the seat and he chuckled.

For a moment, she didn't know what to say or do, but then her anger took over.

"There was no need for that," she snapped, pointing a finger in his face.

"I disagree," he waved her hand away, clearly enjoying himself. "I wouldn't have had anyone to talk to if you'd made it into the women-only car."

"You're not supposed to be talking," she reminded him, pointing up at the sign above her head ‒ an ever present reminder of what was referred to as subway manners.

He smirked. "That's only for your phone, princess." She went red and he chuckled. "You're new to public transport."

She nodded, even though it hadn't sounded like a question, and then lowered her head in embarrassment. But he hadn't talked to her this morning – and come to think of it, none of the other passengers had said a word either.

"They're so boring," he said, when she brought it up. "And I'm fascinating."

She groaned. "Are you always this obnoxious?"

"No."

"Really?" Somehow she doubted that.

That smirk was still on his face. "I'm worse."

"Oh, so you don't normally talk to random strangers?"

"I do not," he agreed softly. "I'm not really a people person."

The cheek was gone from his voice suddenly, and Sakura decided this was the perfect opportunity to get some serious answers out of him.

"So, you ride the Tokyo Metro often?"

Gaara let out a soft chuckle. "No, not really."

"Oh?"

"I don't like public transport."

She smiled. "Me neither."

"What about you?" He asked. "You come here often?"

That made her blush, and she bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. "No, but I'm stuck here anyway."

And the next thing she knew, he was prying things out of her – the first of which was what she did for a living.

"You're a sorter?"

She frowned at the smirk on his face. "No," she snapped. "I organise – there's a difference."

"Oh, I see."

Sakura just shook her head in frustration at the cheek in his voice, glancing toward the windows before settling on the red head again. He lost the cheek as he told her about himself.

Gaara had just arrived in Tokyo as well, and would only be here for three months, looking after some subsidiary in his father's business – he refused to elaborate. Sakura told him about having to move to Tokyo after a bad breakup; she'd let her best friend tag along, but the woman was grating on her nerves. The pinkette wanted to go to work, make friends, and come home to a clean apartment. The blonde wanted to go out, party, do drugs and drink past her limit, then come home and make a mess of the lounge room with some random guy she'd found at a night club.

Before Sakura knew it, she'd been riding the train to and from work for two and a half months. It was nearing Gaara's return to Suna and despite her smiles and jokes, the thought of him leaving was upsetting her. Another week rolled by and he finally noticed the hesitance in her smile.

"I'm going to have to keep you, you know," he said, sounding serious.

It made her smile and she stole a look at him as they walked out of the underground station. It was dark, but the streets were lit, and Gaara stopped at the top of the escalators, just short of the door leading outside.

"Really?"

He nodded. Gaara pushed her gently, and caged her between his body and the wall behind her. His eyes were calculating, thoughtful and minutely wary. He was considering doing or saying something – a scary something perhaps. His façade of controlled emotions had become a transparent mask to her since their first meeting. He kept his guard up by default because it was the only way he'd survived in the ruthless world of business his father had introduced him to from a young age. It was apparently also why he had so few friends. He was considered quite ruthless himself.

Finally, Gaara seemed to come to a decision. "Can I kiss you?"

Sakura nodded silently, not hesitating; she'd wanted him to the moment they'd met. Gaara licked his lips and lowered his mouth to hers. It was chaste, which was fine and all, but she wanted more. So she drew her tongue across his mouth, making them both tremble, before he obliged her. Pushed up against cold hard concrete, Sakura was suddenly burning. Her arms encircled his neck and he growled softly into her mouth, pressing into her.

They weren't lovers, they weren't even dating, but she felt like they were. She'd never had such a strong connection with anyone before, male or female. This was what her mother had told her about growing up, what all those fairy-tales had had her dreaming about. And she didn't want to let it get away: not now, not ever.

Gaara was the one to break the kiss, and rested his forehead against hers as he struggled for breath. His face was flushed and she felt excited at the way she was making him feel. Sakura took a moment also, but it was getting late, and they both knew this wasn't the end after all.

"See you tomorrow?" She asked, still slightly breathless.

He gave her a playful smile. "I'll be there."

Sakura walked away, glancing back as she always did, to see him doing the same. Tomorrow they'd do this all over again, and she knew that somehow, things would work out. After all, he'd said he would be there. The next morning, she was happier than she'd been in years, humming as she took a rare seat, looking forward to the next train stop, where the red head would emerge from. She sat up straight as the train pulled into the stop, her eyes instinctively searching for Gaara.

He wasn't there.

– Reason to Breathe –

Sakura had no idea what'd gone wrong. He'd seemed so sincere, like he really was looking forward to seeing her again. He had another week before he was expected back in Suna, so why would he just flake like that? She couldn't understand it.

Ino told her to stop being a drama queen. "Men do that sweetie – don't take it personally. Besides, if he really is as good looking as you say he is, he's probably married, and with like a dozen mistresses."

But the blonde didn't know him, she'd never met him; and despite the alarming level of arseholes out there, not all men were flakes! At least, not so soon after meeting a woman – sure, they'd kissed, but they hadn't had sex, which was the only thing the real lowlifes stuck around for after all. It made no sense.

This left a gut wrenching ache in her heart and she couldn't stop the onslaught of tears. She felt so stupid, so pathetic; why was this happening?

Once she'd calmed down, Sakura decided: she ignored Ino's disgusted comments and refused to go out clubbing to forget Gaara like the blonde "suggested". She went to work, taking the same route, the same time, and hoping against hope that the red head would appear after all, with some reasonable excuse. Embarrassed by her own fears, she waited past the point in which Gaara had said he'd be heading back to Suna before trying to think about how she'd track him down.

What did she know about him? He was from Suna, was the same age as her – twenty-two – and his mother was some kind of philanthropist. He was the youngest of three – not much help there – and the only one of them working in the family business – even less help. Sakura chewed on the end of her pencil as she tried to remember more. She was sitting at the desk in her bedroom, wearing only a pair of boy-shorts and small tank top; completing the ensemble was her fluffy purple slippers. She didn't own lingerie, much to Ino's chagrin.

She finished writing out the list and turned on her laptop – if she was going to find him, it wasn't by door knocking or going back to the train station. No matter what his reasons were, it was clear he wouldn't be going back there now. She needed a new place to look. The problem was, she only knew his given name. She searched the business tycoons in Suna, but none of them had a red haired son. Then she remembered his mother and added "philanthropist" to the advanced search.

Suna had a reputation for its seedy underground – and corrupted officials – so what were the chances that there were many wives of entrepreneurs that spent their time giving instead of taking?

Apparently, there were four.

The first one that came up was actually a widow and had only daughters –strike her off the list. The second had twelve children, something like fifty grandchildren, and looked like a harridan with boils.

'Eew.'

The third looked a little better; she had three children, her husband was a stock broker. It looked promising.

"Asuka Hashimoto."

Sakura murmured the name a few times. It sounded strange – why did it sound strange? The woman fitted the bill, but somehow she doubted Gaara's mother had been married three times. She settled on the last one – Karura Sabaku – the name rolling off her tongue easy. She followed the links until she found what she was looking for: a family picture taken at some official reception that couldn't be more than two years old. And there he was, looking out of sorts, even though he was looking straight at the camera. He wasn't smiling, but the sight of him all dressed up got Sakura's heart beating faster, and she scanned the comments, made by some reporter. She sounded like a fan too, which made Sakura wonder: was Gaara more popular than he realised? During their conversations, he'd sounded like a lost child when talking about his social life.

She gazed for a moment, before shaking herself of these thoughts.

Gaara was listed, which made it easier – he probably kept that number for emergencies and such. She couldn't imagine him giving it out on a whim.

Sakura spent twenty minutes just staring down at her phone after she'd punched in the number. Now that she was here, she was terrified ‒ what if he'd decided she was just a stupid little girl and had moved on? She felt like some overbearing fan girl who wanted to know why he didn't respond to her last three hundred emails.

'God damn it.'

She needed to get a grip, buck up, and just press that freaking button! She did it before any more pessimistic thoughts could take her over and was relieved when it started to ring. But good Kami he was taking his sweet time in answering. The click on the other end almost unhinged Sakura, and she inhaled sharply at the sound of a feminine voice.

"You've reached Gaara Sabaku's phone: start talking or I'm hanging up."

A slight cheek in her voice reminded Sakura of Gaara, somehow. But she struggled to speak, at a loss for what to say – she was expecting Gaara, not some random girl.

"Who is this?" The woman asked, now slightly irritated.

"My name is Sakura Haruno," Sakura managed, with great difficulty. Who was this woman that had answered Gaara's phone?

"Really?"

"Why is that so surprising?" Really, who was this woman?

"No reason – I'm just calculating how much money Kankuro owes me."

Huh?

"Can I talk to Gaara?"

"Sorry, no can do."

"W-why?"

The woman hesitated – Sakura could hear some whispering in the background and a shuffling that sounded like she was moving the phone from one ear to the other. Finally, the woman on the other end of this conversation gave her an answer:

"He's in a coma."

– Reason to Breathe –

'She shouldn't have told me that on the phone.'

Sakura had spent the ride to the hospital a jittery mess. Not only was she nervous to meet the woman who claimed to be Gaara's big sister, but she was terrified of seeing Gaara. A part of her hoped this was some elaborate prank, while the rest of her knew better: there was no faking the concern in Temari's voice during that thirty minute conversation. The woman really knew how to talk – she'd give Ino a run for her money, that was for sure.

She almost didn't leave the back of the taxi, only depositing the yen in the man's hand after he'd gotten irate at her. She ignored his continuing scowls and slammed the door shut, not caring that she'd been rude. She found the right room and signed in the visitor's book before knocking on the door. It opened almost immediately by some random nurse who spared her a glance (her eyes went to her hair) before moving on. Sakura peered into the room.

"Sakura?" The woman called Temari waved Sakura over, and the pinkette entered quickly. She was still apprehensive, but her concern for Gaara took precedence. He looked like death warmed up.

"The doctors say he could wake up at any time," Temari said soothingly, as Sakura took the offered chair next to the bed; the blonde's hand went to her shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"What happened?"

"After he left the station, he was mugged and left for dead," Temari said.

"Right after?"

"You saw him leave okay, right?"

Sakura nodded.

"I'm sorry," Temari said. "I should've tried to find you, but‒"

"You don't have to explain," Sakura interrupted. "We're strangers."

She gripped the pleats of her skirt tightly as she struggled not to cry, while unable to tear her eyes away from the unconscious red head. He looked like he was sleeping, except for the fact that he was hooked up to a bunch of monitors. She'd almost gone into medicine, so she knew the chances of him waking up got worse the longer he was unconscious. It was cruel, that she'd worried so thoroughly over him only to find him in this state. She'd prefer if he'd just decided she wasn't worth it. At least he wouldn't be in the hospital.

Sakura was a mess, and it showed, with or without the tears. She looked over at Temari as the woman moved to sit on the bed and faced her. The blonde had the same sympathetic look Gaara had given her that first day on the train, and before she could stop herself, Sakura let out an involuntary sob. Temari embraced her as she cried. It was so crazy, but she just let herself go, not caring that she barely knew Gaara, and that she'd only just met his sister.

But eventually, Temari's soothing words calmed her and Sakura pulled away. The older woman fetched a tissue from the other side of the hospital bed and handed it to her.

"God I'm so stupid." Sakura dabbed at her eyes with the tissue. "It's pathetic; I mean, I don't even know him, not really."

"It's not stupid, or pathetic," Temari assured her. "Just strange; I knew Gaara had a thing for you – the way he'd go on about you was proof enough. It's just nice to know it wasn't only one way."

"He's going to wake up," Sakura said quickly. "He has to."

"That's what I keep telling myself."

Sakura's response was interrupted when the door to the room opened (weird, she didn't remember closing it) and the guy standing in the threshold gave her the strangest look.

"Kankuro," Temari said. "This is Sakura. Sakura, this is Kankuro, my other brother."

Sakura greeted him politely, but he just gaped at her.

"Kankuro," Temari said warningly.

He shut his mouth. "Uh, I was just surprised." He frowned at his sister. "I thought she wasn't real."

"You thought Gaara was making her up!" Temari snapped.

Sakura ignored the siblings, shifting closer to the bed. "Gaara," she whispered. "Please wake up." She licked her lips, debating on whether or not to touch him. She'd heard that in even in comas, people could still hear you.

'What about touch?'

So she took his hand, interlocking their fingers and reaching out with her free hand to caress the weird kanji on his forehead, before shifting to move some strands of hair out of his eyes. Sakura didn't notice that Temari and Kankuro had stopped arguing to see what she was doing. She didn't hear them leave quietly, and completely forgot that they'd been there in the first place. She climbed onto the bed and hovered over him, sitting next to him; Gaara didn't respond of course, but she was watching for it anyway.

"Don't you dare," she said forcefully. "I haven't come looking for you just to watch you die."

When she'd told her mother about Gaara, the woman was ecstatic – she had been harping on at her for about four years, wanting grandchildren out of her. But it was the fairy-tales from her childhood that made Sakura bend over and kiss him softly: her own lips quivering slightly at the warmth of his skin. He wasn't cold to the touch, like she'd worried he would be.

Nothing happened.

Sighing deeply, Sakura attempted to get comfortable, not caring that when his nurse came back in, she would be in for a rude awakening. As she drifted off, exhausted from the last few days of worrying herself sick, she felt Gaara move. He shifted under her, the croaky sound of him saying her name bringing a smile to her lips. He was finally awake.

An hour later, Temari and Kankuro returned, armed with caffeine, fast food and a basket full of goodies, intent on an in-room picnic. But when they saw Sakura tucked up in the hospital bed, her arm strapped over Gaara, and her face nuzzled in his chest, they couldn't bring themselves to disturb her.

Neither of them noticed that the pale green eyes of their little brother watched their exit. Gaara had fallen asleep after waking up with Sakura getting comfortable on top of him; he'd woken up several times in the middle of the night to find the strangely intriguing pink haired girl he'd been dreaming about still sleeping with him. He tucked her in closer to his side and smiled.

It was worth getting mugged and almost dying to wake up like this. This was heaven to him.

X X X

#gaasaku #gaara x sakura #fanfiction #my ao3 #All images are not mine

17 notes · View notes

macabrecake · 1 year

Note

cake, bby, love the sandwich fics with Leon but instead of re6 Leon, and in honor of the month of October - what about a smut blurb with re2 Leon and Dan! Vamp Leon?

that could be a wild time.

pls and thank you 💕

Oooh I'm with it! And hell yeah anything for spooky month! Which we're getting closer to the end of and that makes me extremely sad 😞

So let's go out with a smutty bloody bang 😈😈😈

Nsfw under the cut, Minors this the type of graveyard smash you're NOT invited to I'm sorry.

Halloween. A time where the air grows chilly as everyone gets spooky and festive. It's also a time where many people believe that dimensional veils grow thinner. So maybe that could be an excuse as to why, instead of ghosts and ghouls paying you and your fiancé Leon a visit, it's...

Leon.

To be honest, in a time where zombie outbreaks and grotesque monsters make an appearance every other week. You're not that surprised. You are however, absolutely in love all over again. You almost forgot just how young and baby faced Leon used to be all those years ago, so quick to excitement when you mentioned getting married to him. Not to mention how funny it was when the two layed eyes on each other.

"What happened? Did we dye our hair or is that natural?" Rookie couldn't help but ask while staring at his older self, still amazed by how far he made it and how much he matured. Was kind of proud of it even. While your lover stared at his past self with something akin to envy. As if silently wishing he had that innocence back. "Dyed it. We kinda went through a lot."

Oh if the rookie cop only knew just how loaded that sentence was.

Especially when it got to the point where the three of you wanted to have a little fun. Leon wanted to show his younger counterpart how to get you worked up, which lined up perfectly with rookie's need for a stress relief- which was more than well deserved given the shit he just went through in his timeline. Course you had no problems with this idea, it's a chance to love on not just one but two Leon's.

They both moved so smoothly with you. Rookie laying on the bed with your back to his chest while your Leon towered over the both of you, beautifully working in sync like they were sharing one mind in this moment. Kisses dotted your skin that had your pulse fluttering with excitement while their hands softly kneaded and caressed from your thighs all the way up to your breasts. Making you heat up like an oven and softly whimper, your clit already aching and dripping with need. Surprise surprise, not really, Leon's been good with his hands since the beginning.

It was going very well, until your fiancé let his vampiric abilities kick in. To which rookie very calmly and collectively-

Freaked the fuck out.

Shooting upright with a yelp and scurrying away from his older self with you in his hold until his back met the headboard. Obviously terrified but still determined to keep you away from the agent as he holds you closer to his chest and brings his knees up to literally shield you with his body. Your Leon keeps his distance, hands up in defense as to not spook the rookie anymore than he already is while you try and calm him down, "Darling I promise you he's ok, he's not gonna hurt anything." You reassure while gently cupping his face. Always helps Leon on days when things become too much for him, so maybe it'll work for his younger version too.

Eventually you're able to ease his nerves, but he doesn't take to the idea so smoothly. "That's what happens to me?... As if what I just went through in Raccoon City wasn't enough?" He asks, nothing but the utter sense of betrayal seeping into his words as he looks between you and his future counterpart. It's deeply heartbreaking. Luckily, your Leon is able to talk himself down. "Look, I know it isn't what we wanted or expected. But, believe it or not, we manage to make it work." At first, the bright blonde remains a little unconvinced until you place a kiss on his cheek, "I wouldn't have said 'yes' to marrying you if I didn't know whether I could handle it or not."

A fair point he'll admit. And after a little more coaxing from your fiancé to the rookie that he swears he won't harm you in anyway, eventually things start rolling again. Both Leon's get you worked up once more, enough for rookie to slide his cock into your hot, gummy walls. Pulling a shared moan from the two of you while older Leon hums around one of your perked nipples, his fingers massaging and kneading the other. He soon let's go of your breast with a soft pop before setting his blue eyed gaze on another pair of blue eyes. A smirk dons his lips as he whispers to his past version, "Watch this."

Rookie's brow slightly raises in confusion as he watches his older self slowly kiss down your body until he ends up between your legs. That's when his pleasured haze drops into heavy unease when those veins appear again. Watching blue eyes- his eyes become swallowed up by inky blackness as the agent's fangs sink into your inner thigh, squeezing you tight when he hears you softly gasp. The only reason he doesn't spring into action is because of your fingers carding through his hair with a whisper, "It's ok." Still, the 21 year old can't help but cringe when your blood seeps past his future self's lips. He's seen enough blood in one night that will last him a lifetime. Now he's gotta be around it for a lifetime. An eternity even.

He's about to shout at himself, tell him to stop and let go of you, only to be cut off when your pussy suddenly squeezes around him tighter while the sweetest moan falls from your lips. It has rookie burying his face in your neck with a small grunt just as his older counterpart's chuckle reaches his ears, "Keep going."

Don't have to tell him twice.

The blonde wastes no time in picking up his pace, sending your head falling back against his shoulder with a high pitched whimper at the feeling of him hitting all your spots so perfectly. You knew you were done for with rookie already, hearing his cute sounds he tries so hard to keep quiet as he fucks you deep. You already feel it, that heat rising in your lower belly, you're not gonna last. It's like your first time with him all over again. And it's still just as amazing. "Leon.~" You hear him softly hum into your ear while your Leon's blood stained lips come to claim your sex.

Your eyes fly open with a gasp to stare down at the brunette, and his sinister little smirk, as he lays a hefty lick to your little bundle of nerves before beginning to noisily slurp and suck with a low groan. It works like a charm, the vibrations mixing with younger Leon's needy thrusts send you into oblivion fast. Making you wail with ecstasy as your cum gushes around the rookie and into the vampire's mouth. It isn't long after your release that the 21 year old's hips suddenly stutter, his moan muffled by your skin as he spills his load into your slippery walls.

Older Leon can't stop the smile that forms, watching his younger self make a mess of you and the way your clit visibly pumps before crawling back up to steal a little kiss from you, much to your delight as you giggle and happily return it, before glancing to rookie. "Vampires aren't so bad now, huh?"

Rookie thinks on it for a moment before giving a small shrug as he snuggles up to you more with a smile after you place a kiss to his cheek, "Still haven't determined yet." Unbeknownst to the newbie cop that that's what his older version was hoping he'd say as he lowly chuckles, "Fair enough."

And so, after making sure you were ok with it of course, the rest of the night is completely dedicated to the two Leon's lovingly holding you close between them as they push you to orgasm again, and again, and again. Older Leon snapping his hips against yours, stretching your walls around his cock while biting into your skin to drink his fill with a deep, sexy moan and sending that vampiric venom coursing through your veins that brings your euphoria to an all time high with a cry of his name. Just as younger Leon helps by roughly playing with your clit, even sweeping your blood onto his fingers to act as lube, much to his future counterpart's glee. "There ya go rookie, now you're getting it."

Ok so maybe vampires aren't completely bad, so long as he's still able to treat you right. Make you feel this good when he and his future self take turns making you cum and fill you up with their hot seed, to the point it drips out of your spent hole to join the rest of your combined arousals puddling in the cotton sheets. Do the three of you care about that? Absolutely not.

Not when your tears fall from your eyes like rain, that both Leon's sweetly kiss away, as your words fall into gibberish. Rookie and his future self could make out some words- "Leon!~" and "so g-ood!~" but other than that it's safe to say they're practically fucking you silly. Not an issue, especially when you're sworn to receive the best aftercare later.

"Think you can give us one more, sweetheart?" Your Leon soon softly asks as he slows his thrusts down, wanting to make sure you're still enjoying this and that he's not hurting you. While his rookie version takes his fingers away from your swollen rosy pearl to give you a moment, letting his other hand sweetly stroke your thigh as they patiently wait for an answer from you.

You quietly pant as your eyes flutter open to see a pair of blue eyes, and another pair of dark ones that slowly shift back to their original sterling blue color, both staring at you past sweaty fringes. You give them a smile and a nod with a hum of confirmation. Both Leon's mirror your smile, laying their kisses to your cheeks, before your fiancé starts working his pace up again just as rookie cranes your leg back further to give his future self more room to thrust into you while his fingers glide back down to the spot between your legs that has you seeing stars. It isn't long before you're moaning again, such a pretty sound.

So pretty the blonde can't help but smile bigger as he kisses the trail of hickeys and love bites he and himself painted into your skin. The dried blood that stains you isn't much of an issue to him anymore, not when he sees how carefully his older self holds you when you finally come undone. Coating his fingers and his counterpart's lower abdomen in your slick as you give one last cry of his name and relax against him. Clearly exhausted but so blissfully content. Looking at you, Rookie sees now.

His future is actually very beautiful.

#y'all just can't ask for a blurb with me anymore #cause I'm gonna turn around and give you a whole damn novel instead 😭😭😭#i couldn't resist adding a tinge of an angst moment #but come on i mean #you face dead people only to find out your future self gets infected with a virus that makes you technically a dead person #it needed to happen #anyway #woo!!#done and done!#cutting it close but glad I could end this Halloween season right 😎👌🏻#leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil damnation #resident evil 2 remake #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #vampire leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut

120 notes · View notes

lyon-amore · 8 months

Text

Crossed destinies Oneshot

*Oneshot inspired by some chats I did, although I have changed the topic and the situation for something much better. I've been wanting to write it for so long, and it's finally here! It's something that I imagined a long time ago when I started creating my character. So I hope, you like it*

I looked at myself in the mirror in my new clothes. The makeup that I wear now is much more discreet, in lighter tones. I have gotten rid of all dark tones, chains, spiked bracelets, chokers… Anything that makes me a person… Normal. Although normal can sometimes become very superficial.

Well almost normal, I still have my hair dyed black. I hope to return to my natural blonde soon.

Normal. What is that word for people actually? Right now, I'm not sure. I only know that after everything that has happened, I don't want to remember the case that almost made them discover one of the secrets of the police station: that I help my father and his team in their cases.

No.

Helped.

I don't do it anymore.

I also did it as an internship, because I saw myself helping him as an adult. Now that dream has been shattered, I don't want to know anything about investigations. Never.

It's looking in the mirror and I don't recognize myself. It's like I’m seeing another person. Maybe it's a little silly to change the way I dress just because of what has happened, but it is assumed that when you want to turn the page, you make big changes. Well, this is one of them. So I will not remember this stage of my life.

I get a message and pick up my phone. Gabriel, my best friend, was claiming me. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gabbe Hey, is it still worth going to that abandoned church in the end? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hit myself on the forehead. I had completely forgotten about it. I've been so stressed these days that I feel like everything is going at the speed of a train or a plane. I don't have it in control. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie Sorry Gabbe, I completely forgot 🤦‍♀️ Today I have ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I send it incomplete. If I told him, he would surely be mad at me. And more knowing if he knew with whom. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gabbe You have? Something has happened?

Macie Well… Do you remember Adler?

Gabbe How not to forget that asshole 😑 He and his friends decided to put pictures of satan on my table Do they think that because I'm goth I have to adore that man?

Macie Yeah, an asshole...

Gabbe Has he done something to you? Because if it is, then he will deal with me!

Macie I appreciate your “protective brother” mode, dear friend, but it has done nothing to me But he has asked me out

Gabbe … Adler? The same Adler who tells us to go back to Halloween Town? Hey, if you're starting to take drugs and you're having a hallucinogenic trip right now, you can be honest with me

Macie No, I haven’t started taking drugs I just ran into him at the mall when I went shopping for new clothes and he invited me

Gabbe Hmm… I don’t like Mac You know my take on him and the basketball team Together they do not even form a complete brain And why did you suddenly want to go out with him? Surely it does not bring anything good

Macie I know, I could tell by looking at his expression He wants something and I don’t think it’s about spending the afternoon with ‘’Jack Skellington’s wife’’

Gabbe Then move on from him You don’t like those things Why now? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I bite the inside of my cheek, uncomfortable. I'm afraid to tell him that it's because of everything that's going on around me, he's my only friend and everything I've hidden from the rest of the school. Lucky for me, I've known Gabbe since I was a little girl, our moms are friends. He was the only one I could trust and we were like siblings. He knew me better than anyone and he knew what I really liked. And that was not what he wanted. Not at least with a secret. But I have to know what Adler wanted. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie I don’t know I guess I see him cute

Gabbe Cute? That guy? I’ve seen better 🙄

Macie Anyone interested in me?

Gabbe Uh… Well, it’s…

Macie Yes?

Gabbe I don’t know! I don’t go around asking guys if they like you or not! Do you think I’m your messenger?

Macie Hmm... It wouldn't be a bad idea

Gabbe Ha… ha… ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Macie! Adler is here!” I hear my mother call me. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie Well I have to leave you Adler is here

Gabbe OH! Prince Charming is home!

Macie Don't mock!

Gabbe I have to do it because you deserve it Dating that guy is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had

Macie Thanks for your support

Gabbe You just call me if you get bored of the date and I'll be there in a second!

Macie Ha ha! Okay! See you later, Gabbe

Gabbe See you later Mac

-----Gabbe has disconnected---- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I grab my bag and put my phone away. My mother enters my room, looking for me. "You look beautiful" she tells me taking out her phone “. Let me take a photo.” “Mom!” murmur, lowering her hand, embarrassed “It's just a date.” “First date and…” she looks at my clothes excitedly “You don't dress like a vampire anymore.” "I didn't dress- forget it." I shake my head, holding in a long breath that I want to release into the stuffy air. My mother didn't like my clothes, and now I want to stand out less because of everything that has happened. It is enough that they are suspicious of me, when I have always been very careful.

I leave the room and head to the living room. Adler gets up from the sofa as soon as he sees me. He fixes his blonde hair and smiles. He is nervous, but not because of the date. <<No Macie, don't start analyzing it at home or your mother will be suspicious.>> I tell myself. I suppose not to do it. “Hi Macie” he rubs his hands feigning shyness “ shall we go now?” His words are fast, he wants to leave. "Have fun." my mother tells us, happier than me. "We will." I wave, and off we go to the door. Once outside the house, he looks at me curiously, as if something strange had happened. I look at him and let out a nervous laugh. “What’s wrong?” “She hasn’t told me what time I should bring you.” “We have a deal not to come back later than twelve if I’m not with Gabbe.” “Gabbe? Who is that?” I avoid not getting angry. He knows exactly who he is and that pisses me off. I was supposed to have accepted this "date" to be a teenager with a normal life like everyone else, but I don't feel that way. I liked it better when I was investigating things or going with Gabbe to abandoned places to learn the story behind it. I stop walking and cross my arms. Adler looks at me confused. “What's wrong?” He asks me running a hand through his hair. "Why don't you tell me the truth, Adler?" I ask in an annoyed tone "I know you would never date 'the Blair witch', 'the corpse bride' Oh! And my favorite: 'The girl from the well'.” I see him laugh and it annoys me even more. I’m ready for any joke he want to do to me, I won’t let myself be humiliated. “I knew it, I knew you'd realice” he begins to raise his voice and I look at him raising my eyebrows more confused “You're what I need!” "No, I don't think so." I shake my head, already imagining what he wants to do. I turn to walk away and he stops me. “Let me explain it to you.” he begs in a voice so plaintive the tough guy look is gone. <<I'm going to regret this.>> I raise my head and blow so much air out of my body that I think I’m going to run out of it. I nod resignedly. I can’t come home so soon and have my mom start asking me. “Okay, I hear you.” I finally answer. “I need you to use your gift.” “My gift? What gift?” “You know, that thing about knowing what others hide and that.” I massage my temple, annoyed. “First: it's not a gift, it's called observing carefully, something you could learn if you thought more about what others feel than about your image” I see that he rolls his eyes, as if he didn't care “. And second: I'm not going to help you.” "You're going to help me" he approaches me, with an almost evil smile ", because then, I'll make it public that you work with your father illegally with the police." I swallow nervously. No one except Gabbe and my mother knew. And I know Gabbe wouldn't tell that to the dumbest idiot in school. Especially since Adler didn't like him.

I try to think how he knows and I remember his last name. Schneider. I take a deep breath. This guy is the nephew of my father's boss. His father also works at the police station, I'm sure he had heard it in some conversation that I was collaborating with the police. "Mmm…I take it you're nervous" he laughs at my reaction “. Hey, well, it is easy to observe people closely.” "Please, don't say anything" I beg now ". My father could be in trouble!" It wasn't that my father's boss knew, because he did. But the senior police officer doesn’t. If he found out, then he would take my father's badge, lose his job, and all because of me! "Then a better reason for you to help me" He moves his eyebrows up and down, trying to be funny “. You help me and I don't say anything, deal?” He offers me his hand and I look at him doubtfully. But it seems that he tells the truth. "Deal." I give him my hand and it disgusts me. He’s pretty sweaty, which means he's nervous “What's up then?” "I'll start by telling you that I lost a lot of money gambling." "Minors can't bet-" I stop and slap my hand in the face imagining the situation “Illegal bets.” "Playing poker," he says casually. Incredible —. It was against a guy named James 'the Bear' Green” I open my eyes so much that I feel like they are going to pop out of their sockets. Is he betting with a criminal? My God… “. I lost everything and it was a lot and… it wasn't my money, but my father's.” "Okay, what do you want me to do?" I can't refuse, I'm against the ropes. "You're going to help me get the money back by watching their expressions." "Do you want to cheat?" I ask more and more exalted “Do you know that we could die for that?” “But it will work out. I have faith in you!” He gives me a friendly punch on the arm and I give him a dirty look. We don't have that confidence to treat me like this “We go in, I play a little, you let me know and I get out of there with the money.” It's the worst idea in the world. I wonder how he could have gotten into this all by himself. "And couldn't you just confess to your father what you've done?" I suggest to keep him out of trouble. “What are you saying? He will kill me!” He starts walking and I follow him “So, I need to get the money before the day after tomorrow, which is when the month's expenses arrive.” "Why did I agree to go out with you?" I ask myself more than him. "It's obvious, because I'm attractive." <<No, because my curiosity gets the better of me than your stupid face. You're not even my type.>>

We arrive at a bar that says that minors cannot enter. It has a fairly classic style, the wood even seems well cared for and the windows are like church windows, I read the name of the bar, 'The red river'. Curious name, I wonder why. Adler pulls out his ID and hands it to the doorman. A fake ID. Since Adler has an athletic build, he can easily pass for someone only eighteen or twenty, it is easy for him to deceive. Then he looks at me. My classmate puts his arm around my waist and smiles. "I've paid for her for today" he says proudly as I want to punch him "Does she look young? And she is very pretty.” He arches an eyebrow and I smile charmingly, placing a hand on his chest. In the end he lets us through and, once inside, I walk away from him in disgust. "After this, don't talk to me at school again." I tell him annoyed. "Don't worry, this will be the last time we'll be together." he tells me, also fixing himself, as if it bothers him. We walk towards the tables and he points at me surreptitiously. "That one over there." I look in the direction he indicates and see the men sitting “. They don't let the companions sit with us, but behind us, so I thought we can take advantage of that.” There are five men sitting at the table. It occurs to me to assign each one a number. "Who is James Green?" “The guy with the silver chain around his neck.” he whispers, and I focus on him. “Okay, this is the plan” I start to get nervous. This is not going to go well “: We are going to assign a number to each one, Jame will be number one. The guy in the red hat will be number two. The one in the plaid shirt is number three. Number four is the one with the dangling earring. Number five is the one left, the guy with that mole on his cheek” Adler nods and I continue “. I'll give you a number of touches on the back if I see one of them has a good deck to keep you from betting too much or checking, don't risk it. And at least once i won't be able to help you or they will catch us, you can't be so perfect playing, they would suspect.” "Yeah, yeah, yeah" he claps his hands together and licks his lips ", let's play." I roll my eyes as I follow him. I hope he listens to me while playing or we'll be screwed. We approach the table and Green looks at him. “Are you here to lose more money?” He asks him in a joking tone. "Yesterday I was out of training, today I'm here to get all my money back." he answers as he sits in the chair. Green looks at me and laughs. “You know the rules, no having companions at the table.” “Don't worry, this beauty has only come to give me luck.” he hits me on the rear and I control myself so as not to hit him at that moment. I will as soon as we get out of here.

They've at least let me sit behind him, watching. During the game, I do everything possible so that he does not lose the money he has left, thus gradually recovering the money he lost. Sometimes he would even yell and turn to kiss me on the cheek, excited. Unfortunately, it's not like in the movies, their joy is not contagious, quite the opposite: I'm scared to death. If they discover us, we'll be lost forever. Sometimes I don't help him like I told him so they don't suspect us, but in the next game, he recovers the lost money.

We stayed there until nightfall. Two players ended up leaving and Green got angry every time he lost to Adler, what caused my heart to beat fast for the terror of seeing that furious man. He took to hitting the table every time he lost a large amount.

The game ends and it is Adler who ends up taking all the money. Between laughs he picks it all up, even kisses him. “Come with daddy” he says cheerfully, even pretending to count the money “. I told you today I would win.” "Yeah, I see." Green replies, tapping the table. "And now I'll be able to overpay the lady" he says as he puts his arm around my shoulders. I want to get out of here “, it cost me dearly.” shut up. Adler begins to collect the money and put it in a bag that he had brought. What a shame, he was prepared. A man approaches Green and begins to speak in his ear. It is then that I tug on Adler's jacket to make him hurry up. Green gets up—now I understand the nickname 'the Bear' is huge when he's standing up—and pulls out a gun pointed at Adler, he waves his hand for the money back. Reluctantly, my partner does so and dumps the bag on the table. “Not like that, Mr. Schneider” he picks up the bag and hands it to the guy next to him “, fool me in my own bar.” I look at Adler nervously. Is this Green's bar? Were we getting in trouble with the owner? Why didn't he tell me? "Mr. Green, I-" "No, no" he shakes his finger, clicking his tongue “. I could kill both of you right here. You know?” He looks at me now and I keep completely still "It wouldn't cost me anything to get rid of you two.” "I just wanted-" “Ah, don't make excuses now.” Green looks at me and smiles “Do you know why the bar is called 'The Red River', beautiful?” I shake my head terrified “Because everyone who betrays me here ends up staining the waters with their blood.” A threat? Oh really? I'm having a hard time breathing right now.

I try to avoid falling to the ground out of fear, I've never been in trouble before. Well, yes, maybe entering abandoned places is not something that is said to be a good person because they are places that are forbidden to enter, but at least I don't mess with criminals! "You're going to give me the same money you tried to steal from me" he tells us while still pointing the gun at us "and I want it for tomorrow." "But we can't get all that money!" Adler yells at him "It's impossible!" “I want the money tomorrow” he leans on the table and smiles at us “. If you don't give me the money, then I'll keep the lady as payment” he looks at me licking his lips “, it could be of help to me during the games, there are many cheaters to teach a lesson” I look at Adler, expecting him to defend me, but he doesn't, and unfortunately I'm too scared to say no to a guy with a gun. He swings the gun as he stands up “. Go away, now” Adler turns to walk away quickly and I tell him. Incredible that he has not given me support when I have helped him.

We left the bar and I thought I could breathe a little, but all I feel is pangs every time I try to breathe. I try to walk, but my legs are shaking. "This is because of you!" Adler yells at me, furious "You should have been more careful!" “Sorry?! I didn't know it was HIS bar!” I highlight the word ‘his’ almost in a shout. “And what does that matter?! Now we owe him money!” he turns and yells in my face “And since I don't have it, you're going to get it.” “Is your problem! Not mine!” I give him a shove on the shoulder. I was walking away from him when he stops me, grabbing my arm. “Let me go!” "If you don't help me, the deal is off." I feel the pressure again. No. I can't let him say anything, but I can't give him the money he needs either. The worst thing is, then Green will want to use me for poker games. There is no good option. “Please” I beg again “, don’t say anything.” “I’m sorry Macie, but I told you” he lets go of me and starts to walk away “and we have until tomorrow! You better get the money!” That happens to me for being curious and wanting to know what was wrong with him.

I walk the streets thinking of a solution. My father would kill me if he knew what I've done today. Maybe accepting a deal and being a cheater hunter wouldn't be bad, right? But then, they would kill Adler for not paying back the money. Was that really all he wanted? Of course not, he wanted the money from him. No, because then if I tell Adler I don't have the money, he'll do whatever it takes to spill my dad's secret and goodbye to his job. “Shit!” I yelled angrily, what can I do? Then I notice that my cheeks are soaked. I'm crying. This is the second time I feel powerless like this. It's true, I can't fix anything. They were right. I'm just a fool who should have stayed home and done what every teenager does, live a normal life and not worry about adult business. I sit on a bench, unable to continue walking. One way or another, I'm doomed. "Hey gilr, is that alriiiight?" When I hear the awkward male voice, I freeze on the spot. You could tell he was drunk and not only by how he spoke, but also by the smell of alcohol that reached my nose “Come with me, I'm shure I can help you.” He grabs my wrist and I react quickly. "Let go of me!" I yell, knocking him away. “But don't shout, I'm not going to do anything to you.” I would believe it if it weren't for the fact that he tries to kiss me! I try to put a barrier between the two with my arms, scared. “What are you doing to my sister?” the voice of a young guy is present and pulls the man away from me. “Oh! I don't-“ I try to see him, but he's wearing a hood and his back is turned. "We've already called the police." A lady approaches with another man and looks at the boy “. Don't worry, take care of your sister, we'll keep an eye on him.” “I will do that.” says the guy. The man and woman move the drunk away from us and I sit back down on the bench.

The guy does the same, but stays away from me, as if he had a bodyguard. "You should call your parents to come get you.” he advises in a calm voice. "I can't, they'll be mad at me." I answer, hugging myself. "They will not, this was not your fault." "I'm not talking about this" I look at him but he still has his hood on. In the streetlight, I can't get a good look at his features “. I…” I shut up and look at the ground, not wanting to continue. It's not a good idea to talk to a stranger about my problems, especially not one who could surely do better than listen to a teenager. "Maybe you will feel better if you tell me" He sounds so nice saying it that I don't believe it. I look at him and wipe away my tears, I can see a smile behind that shadow “and maybe I can help you with something.” I take a breath and push my hair back, it's stuck to my face from crying. "My date got me involved in illegal betting, that's what happens" I see him settle down better. Maybe it's good to vent to someone “. The idiot didn't even want to go out with me, he just wanted me to help him get money that he stole from his father.” "And does his father know?" "No, but as soon as he finds out, I'm lost" I start playing with the fabric of my dress. A white dress with small pink flowers. I thought it was going to be special when I bought it, but it has only brought me misfortune “and threatened to… say something that could affect my father's work.” “Has your father done something bad or…?” "No, he hasn't done anything wrong" I shake my head, but I feel very heavy mentally. I put my hands to my head, unable to continue “. Damn Adler Schneider, owe money to a criminal.” "You should tell your parents" he advises me again “. Warn them to come get you, I will not leave here until they come.” I look at him carefully, wanting to see him better. Resigned to my curiosity, I take out my phone and send a message to my mother, asking her to come pick me up at the address I sent her. “What a first date…” I mutter under my breath. "You are still young, do not get depressed about it" he tells me with a laugh “. In my case, I still have not had mine yet.” "Then you've already beaten me by not committing the stupidest thing of dating the idiot from the institute." He laughs again. I don't know why, but I like to hear him laugh. "Well, I cannot say anything against that because I was not what was called good in high school" I blink when I hear him, 'was'? So it means that he is older than me. What a disappointment I just got. "Were you a bully or what?" I ask, frowning. "No, I…" I hear him make an uncomfortable sound "Let us just say that I earned money thanks to my classmates." “In short: you steal their money.” “No, I used my skills to change their grades, but do not tell anyone that I have an image to maintain.” I laugh for the first time all night “Are you better? When he asks me that question, he pulls his hood down and I stare at him. His green eyes look at me very calmly and his short black hair makes me think about what it would be like to caress him. He's got a little messy from wearing the hood, which makes him look attractive. <<I know it would be wrong, but I'd love to do illegal things with him if he wanted to.>> I blush at that thought. I don't think I had ever thought about those things.

I look away in embarrassment, afraid that if I look at him again, he might know what I'm thinking. A chill runs through my body and I see him hand me his sweatshirt. "Here, you need this more than me." The kind smile doesn't leave his face. “Thank you…” I accept the sweatshirt and put it on. It's hot and… I can smell his cologne. This makes me blush even more. He does it without any bad intentions, I can tell, but it doesn't mean that I don't feel overwhelmed by the situation. It's like the situation every girl wants after seeing that favorite romantic scene. “Do you want some advice?” I nod and arches an eyebrow with an air of superiority “Do not go out with someone who could get you into trouble.” "Wow, I hadn't realized, thanks for the advice, I'll keep it in mind." I say with a tone of irony. We both laughed. I know he try to keep my mood calm and not so nervous.

I watch him carefully. He hasn’t tried to take advantage of me yet. He really is a good guy, why does the universe hurt me like this? I still have two years to be eighteen! What kind of punishment is this? But hey, at least I'm calmer talking to him. His tone is so calm, that I would be able to listen to him always. He has made it better. “Hey, and what is the name of the guy you two were betting with on your date?” I stare at him curiously. Is he really that interested in the subject? Are he that worried? I inhale calmly, though remembering him pointing the gun at me and Adler makes me terrify again. “James Green or better known by the nickname of 'The Bear'” I answer afraid to say his name “, runs a bar called 'The River of Blood'.” "It does not ring a bell" I see him rest his hand on his chin, thinking ", he must be quite discreet or I would have recognized him by now." "I guess so" I see him still thinking. He seems genuinely interested “. Hey, no… I shouldn't have told you this, maybe you're getting in trouble because of me.” "Not at all" he leans in a little, placing his arms in his lap ", it is important that you tell me all this.” “Are you going to help me?” “And why not?” “Well, because you would end up dead!” "Do not worry, I have some very reliable methods so that doesn't happen." He winks at me in confidence, but it only makes me blush more and more. God, I must look like a tomato because his fault. I can tell that this is not a flirtation, but someone genuinely caring about me. Although I don't think I'm actually going to do anything, I mean, take a risk for a stranger? There is no one like that. The pain in my chest goes away and I feel better after talking to him. When I want to ask his name, I hear the horn. I turn and see my mother's car. I sigh and get up from the bench, looking at him now. "Thanks for cheering me up." I'm going to take off my sweatshirt, but he stops me. "No, keep it" I look at him surprise “. I have the closet full with that type of clothes.” I laugh and nod. I fix my gaze on him. Damn, I wish I wasn't younger than him. "Thank you then and... Bye." I wave, and he does the same. “Good luck with your parents.” I nod and walk away until I reach the car. I get on and my mother looks in the guy’s direction. “Who is he?” She asks me worried. "He's the one who saved me from a drunk" I answer as I put on my seatbelt ". Don't worry, we've kept our distance " I try to reassure her, because it's true. He hasn't even come close to give me the sweatshirt, he just stretched out his arm. A true gentleman. “Wow” she makes a throaty noise, still not taking her eyes off him “, maybe I should go over and thank him.” “No!” my mother laughs and I get serious “I have to tell you something...” “Something has happened? Is it about Adler?” “When we’re home.” “I’ll just tell you that if he’s touched you or hurt you, I’m in favor for guns.” I don't know if that encourages me that she's worried or terrifies me that I could possibly lose my parents to murdering a high school boy.

I spend the whole night telling my father and mother what has happened, well, not about the illegal gambling —I think I should tell the police about that— , It's just that Adler knows our secret and that we were arguing that he was going to tell everyone. Clearly my father was concerned about our situation and tomorrow he would talk to his father to avoid it.

When I go to bed to sleep, I don't take my sweatshirt off. It makes me feel protected and envelops me in a deep sleep in which I see him again and that I have already grown up. I ask him out and he accepts without thinking twice, with that charming smile and green eyes that shine with excitement, How do I dream these things now? Most of my dreams I don't even remember, but this one makes me feel butterflies in my stomach, something I've never felt before. I guess this is what is called the first love.

The phone wakes me up from my wonderful dream that I was just going to kiss the mystery boy. I curse under my breath in great annoyance. I doubt very much that this dream will be repeated. When I picked it up, I saw a bunch of messages from Gabbe asking if I'd seen the social media. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gabbe Something messed up with Adler! Apparently, he made bets with a criminal And now that criminal is arrested thanks to him! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I read the message still asleep, confused by what I was reading. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie What? How arrested?

Gabbe It happened between night and this morning The whole school is talking about it

Macie OMG It was him!!

Gabbe Him? 🤨 Who?

Macie The love of my life ❤️

Gabbe 😑 Mac…

Macie A guy kept me company when Adler dumped me after an argument And well, I told him what happened last night

Gabbe You didn't tell me that...

Macie Cause I didn’t think it was important Did you really want me to tell you that I have met the most handsome guy in the world and that unfortunately for me, he is unattainable?

Gabbe No, I don’t like love theme, really And I thought that you were not interested in those things

Macie Maybe now I'll change my mind with Mister Mysterious

Gabbe 🙄 Let’s get back on topic… So he has helped you?

Macie Maybe? It’s the only thing I can think of that could have been Because my father has spent the whole night here

Gabbe Wow, incredible that someone wanted to get involved in that matter

Macie I plan to date him when I grow up 🤭❤️

Gabbe If you find him again 🙄 How do you think he will have done it? I mean, to prove it you need proof

Macie He looked quite young, about twenty years old Do you think he is from the secret police? 🤔

Gabbe You are the expert at finding things out, not me Hey, what if we tell this in the forum? In the criminal section? Maybe someone knows something about your savior ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I’m going to answer him until I get a message from Adler. Great… ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Adler Thank you so much for ruining my life Who did you tell about yesterday? I had conversations about illegal gambling on my mobile which has now been made public! Even Green’s! My dad is going to put me in boarding school after this and it’s all because of you. But you know? Since you've helped me get rid of Green in part, I'll do you a favor and not tell the names of the cops who worked with you But they did work with a teenager at our parents' police station That way at least everyone will be marked and I can teach my father a lesson for putting me in boarding school But the police will know who to point out for having told this news Find yourself a good place to hide from the press, get out of town if you want to have a normal life, because you are going to be surrounded by so many journalists thanks to your father ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I bite the inside of my cheek annoyed with Adler. He hadn't given up on continuing to ruin my life. And I don't blame the guy, he did what he could. My father walks into the room and looks at me concerned. He has his phone in hand. Adler had surely notified the press after his betting was made public. Wait, the guy from yesterday… When he said that his methods are reliable… Did he mean to hack his phone and get that information? That really is taking a risk for someone. "Macie" my father wakes me from my thoughts and I look at him concerned ", we're going to have to talk seriously about this." I nod knowing what he means. This is going to cause us a lot of trouble. <<Thanks for trying Mister Mysterious, I know you did what you could.>>

*Jake POV*

As soon as the girl leaves, I get up and head home so I can help her. Normally I would not get involved, but maybe if I do it anonymously and report it, maybe I can do something.

I make coffee and sit at my desk, searching the social networks of this Adler Schneider guy. If I can get to his cell through the information, I might as well get information on this Jame Green. I do not remember seeing his name on the criminal list, which means he should stay in the shadows if he is gambling illegally. My cell phone rings while I am working and I see Albert's name on the screen. I answer before he worry more. “Hi Al.” I reply as I'm typing fast with one hand. "Where were you, Jake? I was very worried” his voice sounds very theatrical “, you can't give your poor mother this upset.” I laugh at his ''nickname''. He awarded it to himself as soon as he stopped parkouring with me, because he discovered that he preferred to keep his feet on the ground with the skateboard and not go jumping between buildings or climbing high places at full speed. Also because he is the person I know best since high school. We have not parted since then. "Sorry, I was busy with something." I reply, leaving the phone on my shoulder. “Anything about your new job?” he answers with some misgivings. “Something like that.” “Seriously, you're the youngest ever to get that job.” “You know what I can do.'' “Yes, and your ego knows it too.” I cannot help it, I like to show off my skills. I never thought that I would attract the attention of a great team and that it would serve to help others in a job that served me to do something good with my skills. "And why were you calling?" I ask curiously. “Guess who’s been to the bar?” “No…” “Yes.” “Katherine.” “Katherine!” I hit myself on the forehead. Great. Just when I'm busy, she shows up. "I'm entertaining her and her friends, so if you don't hurry, she'll leave" he says quickly ", so come here!" I look at the work I am doing and then at my cell phone. I had liked that girl for a long time, but I did not dare ask her a date and I had promised myself that the next time I saw her, I would. But here I am working. I start to doubt whether to leave it because it is not my problem and go see Katherine or…

I remember then how the girl cried and it makes me feel bad. I do not want to leave it, she urgently needed help. “You know? I think I am going to stay and finish the job.” I finally say. "Jake, it's Katherine" he reminds me and I can imagine him rolling his eyes ", the girl you talk to me about every day." “I don't talk about her every day.” "Well, almost" I blush a little, do I really? "If I've warned you, it's because I care about you and your love life.” "There will be another chance." I answer without giving it much importance now. “She asked about you.” <<;Damn it…>> I shake my head. Katherine could wait, right now there was a girl in big trouble and if I wanted this Green guy to stop threatening people, I should stop him. But Katherine had finally taken an interest in me, why did it have to happen now? “I finish quickly and-“ I get a notification sound and see the message. It was Katherine. “Man…” I say to Al. I do not know whether to say upset or excited. “You will thank me when you get married.” “Do not get excited either, I like Katherine, I still cannot imagine marrying her.” “And that change?” I start to think about why the change. Who would have thought that a conversation with a teenager would open my eyes about the future? I like Katherine, but not to the point that I already envisioned a married life with her. Things could change, but for now, I will stay in the present because of what I feel with her. "I just want to go easy, you know I like her and I do not want to pressure her." "You are so mature, my little son" how he loves to keep exaggerating things", but is that job so important?" “I am helping a girl, she is had a problem with the guy she is dating, some idiot into illegal gambling.” “And was she pretty? Is that why you are like this?” “Al, she was a teenager…” I reply with annoyance. The mere thought turns my stomach. I estimate that she must have been about the age of my sister Hannah. "Oh! So today you are Super Jake Defender of the weak!” "You know how I am, I always see myself reflected in them when I was their age" I continue writing on the computer “. It is not easy having to live with problems at that age.” “Do you want me to tell Katherine? Maybe that will score you more points with her.” "No, I will do it.” “Go for her!” he exclaims on the other end of the line almost screaming “Good luck Jake, I know you'll get it.” He hangs up and I sigh. I do not know what I would do without him. I replied to Katherine, apologizing that I will not be able to go because of work that I have. I told her about it and her message makes me excited to read it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Katherine Wow, I didn’t know that side of you You are really very good with children I quite like that about you, Jake 🤭 ❤️ ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I contain a cry of happiness. Not only do I help someone in need, I put a criminal in jail, but also the girl I like has told me that she likes me. Ah, but I have to be careful, what I am doing is outside of working hours, so I had better cover my tracks after this or I will be in trouble. We do not want them to want to arrest me for this. “I hope it goes well for both of us from now on, unknown girl.” I pronounce with a smile, happy with the situation. I feel so much better after doing something nice for someone.

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #everbyte studio #everbyte game #duskwood fanfic #duskwood oneshot

6 notes · View notes

elizabethsway · 1 year

Text

I'm somewhere between a cool and neutral color tone. Yellow and some oranges unless they are really dark do not look good one me. That being said, that's why I never went blonde.

My grampa had a full set of grey hair by the time he was thirty and I got my first grey at five. Safe to say, by high school I started getting a nice bit of white hair on one side of my head. After college, I was pretty much half and half but I had been dying it brown.

About 5 months before COVID dropped, I noticed that white/silver hair wasn't taking color well. It turned my hair a lighter brown. Later I chose a box dye of darkest brown and so you could see the ends of my hair dark brown, the middle orange light brown and the top a light brown. It looked great (note the sarcasm).

Awkward wedding photo just after final dye

As I only really dyed the scalp/top part and not the ends, I decided to hit the whole thing with the darkest color I could and ended up looking like Professor Snape for my sister's wedding. After that I stopped dying my hair. About a year and a half later I was getting an itch to dye my hair a color but liked how healthy my hair was. I never applied any heat to it or dies so mine is a little bit of hair band trauma, it was nice.

But I added in some purple dye (it was supposed to be light) trying both Arctic Fox and Manic Panic. The one of them didn't take at all one did slightly but I had to use a lot and keep it on for hours. The white hair wanted none of it and it washed out fairly quick, leaving just a glow behind.

Well after that I gave up and cut the orange from around the time of the wedding off and let the color fade. It regrew and was pretty nice looking.

Sadly, while hanging out with a guy, he asked if I dyed my hair blonde and I was like, "You're crazy. Get your eyes checked."

A week later I was checking out my hair and it did look a bit yellow from the ear down. Online it said that you can pick up pigments from Air pollutants and other things as well as hair products. I only have one hair product that they might cause discolorization which is like a Garnier Apple conditioner but it's very faint, so not sure if that's what's happening to my hair.

And given that my hair doesn't like taking color I wasn't sure how well this was going to work but I got myself a purple shampoo /conditioner 3 set pack from Matrix. I did as the bottle said and nothing. I was still yellow.

You can see some of the yellow on the strand I'm holding but the yellow is mostly ear down. This was after Matrix.

A week and a half later I got myself Brand Mondo's Supernova Blonde Toning Purple Shampoo/Conditioner and his Forcefield Heat Shield spray. Now make a note, his conditioner said it should stay on for 5 minutes and I left mine on for 2 hours, so I didn't exactly follow the procedure but I think it worked well.

I saw a video of his where he reacted to people who used purple shampoo to dye their hair. He made a comment that said somey along the lines of that he didn't know why people left the shampoo on for several hours and if anything they should do the conditioner for longer. So I decided to take his comment out of context a bit and I put the conditioner on first to almost dry but slightly damp hair and left it on for two hours before rinsing. Then I shampooed, immediately rinsed and then did the conditioner again but only for the recommended 5 minutes.

And it looks like this.

Obviously I missed some sections or maybe they were just sections they really didn't want to take, but considering the purple is so light and metallic you looking because of my current silver hair, it blends pretty well.

Also things to note. My hair is naturally dry, it doesn't really create oil very often unless I'm touching it a lot or I put my head out the window of a car as it's moving (like a dog). But I will say it made my hair feel a little dryer and because I like to play with fate, I also did not use any gloves while doing this process so underneath my fingertips there's a little bit of purple but my hands felt pretty dry. I would suggest definitely using some kind of moisturizing product on your hair if you can afterwards or doing a mask.

I also used his heat shield product but I have not actually put any heat on it yet so it might have been a missed opportunity to try that. Do I imagine it would work very well.

Here's some bad pics of me growing out my hair, pre-COVID, when I was still going into office looking like this.

Super cute.

8 notes · View notes

jacqui-velazquez · 2 years

Text

{ LIZETH SELENE, 19, GENDERQUEER, SHE/THEY } Is that JACQUI VELAZQUEZ? A FRESHMAN originally from SANTA MONICA, CA, they decided to come to Ogden College to study MUSIC. They’re THE WILD CHILD on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance.

THE ESSENTIALS

TBD

CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS

TBD

TV TROPES

TBD

OGDEN COLLEGE 2022-2023

MAJORS:

Music

EXTRACURRICULARS:

Queer Alliance, Quiz Bowl, Feminists at Ogden

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Jacqueline Adella Velazquez Garcia

NICKNAME(S): Jacqui, Jax

DATE OF BIRTH: october 3rd, 2003

AGE: nineteen

ZODIAC SIGN: libra sun, libra moon, cancer rising, libra mercury, scorpio mars, leo venus

OCCUPATION: student at ogden college

HOMETOWN: santa monica, ca

NATIONALITY: american

ETHNICITY: mexican

LANGUAGE(S): english, spanish

GENDER & PRONOUNS: genderqueer, she/they

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: pansexual

RELIGION: raised catholic, but identifies as spiritual and not religious

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: very very very left - definitely believes in not having a two party system, probably believes more in community governing than anything else. hates the government and systems as a whole.

PHYSICAL INFORMATION

FACE CLAIM: Lizeth Selene

HEIGHT: 5′3″

EYE COLOR: dark brown

HAIR COLOR + STYLE: black, thick, and long, long, long - past Jacqui’s waist. She wears it down and naturally wavy, like this or this most of the time. she will straighten it, slick it back, add little braids, or occasionally have the front dyed platinum blonde. very gen z in the styling of their hair.

ACCENT + INTENSITY: speaks spanish fluently, and when speaking in english, has a slight hybrid of a spanish and valley girl accent.

TATTOO(S): TBD

SCAR(S): TBD

PIERCING(S): septum and left nostril, wears small hoops in both, and one piercing in each lobe, tends to wear big hoops in those. see this pic for reference.

GLASSES: no, lucky hoe

CLOTHING STYLE: TBD

PERSONALITY

MBTI TYPE: ENFP

POSITIVE TRAITS: compassionate, gentle, sensual, intelligent, strong, alluring, creative, resourceful, sociable, nonconformist

NEGATIVE TRAITS: self-indulgent, sensitive, nihilistic, self-sacrificing, trusting to the point of detriment, impulsive

SKILLS: reading people’s emotions to the point of it almost seeming psychic, being able to hop behind a drum set and give a beat without needing any sheet music, doing their hair in under ten minutes and making it look gewwwd

GOALS/DESIRES: none, really - after all, nothing matters in the end, right?

FEARS: aliens not being real, global warming

HOBBIES: music (specifically, they play the drums), collecting crystals, reading tarot, just a little sprinkle of witchcraft

HABITS: tends to drum out a rhythm on their thighs when they are feeling antsy, does deep breathing when they need to calm themselves, always has some sorta crystal in their pocket (depending on what energy they need)

SMOKES? yes, smokes j’s and also vapes

DRINKS? yes, but honestly prefers to get high in various different ways

DRUGS? there might be nothing jacqui loves more than a little bit of a mind-altering substance

PLEASE EXPAND ON HOW THEY EMBODY THEIR CHARACTER TROPE: THE WILD CHILD

Jacqui is, at the end of the day, a nihilist. They don’t believe anything matters in the world. But rather than being cynical and viewing this as something to be depressed about, she views it as a good thing. The paragraph from the TV Tropes page for anti-nihilism that is the most relevant is “"Don't cling to pain. Don't expect happiness. Don't fear loss. Accept reality as it is. Enjoy the good. Endure the bad. Don't make a big deal out of anything. Be selfless, and unconditionally kind and just, without ever expecting a reward. We're all going to end up as piles of dust, so why not be nice to each other?"”

That truly is Jacqui’s mindset and way of looking at the world. They do their best to be compassionate, and kind, and caring. They don’t see being soft as a bad thing, and it certainly doesn’t make them naive, or weak, or overly innocent. They see their compassion as a strength, and the fact that they want to help people and care about others as one of their powers, to be honest. Nothing matters - but that’s freeing to Jacqui.

Because of this being their belief, Jacqui is always just slightly veering towards unhinged. They figure that if nothing really matters, and everything is going to be what it’s going to be....why not go big or go home? They figure things will happen when they’re “meant” to, regardless of their actions, so their actions are going to be whatever they want them to be. They’ll try anything once, they’ll do it for the story, they’re always there to have a good time. Because everyone’s time is short...so you may as well have fun with it.

expanded personality tbd

CONNECTIONS

connection page tbd

RELATIONSHIP TO GREER: Since Jacqui is a freshman, she actually doesn’t know Greer at all - but she knows of her, as she has a very close family friend who attends Ogden, and....whatever with Jesse. But it just goes to show how far The Golden Girl’s reach is - you don’t even have to go to Ogden, or grow in up in New York, or have stepped foot in the Hamptons to know who Greer Morrison is.

IC QUESTION: “You wouldn’t have wanted Greer to disappear, would you?”

“I don’t even know Greer,” Jacqui said, her words earnest, soft, pleading almost. “I know…I know how it looks. Going to Ogden and…knowing Paloma. And Jesse. But I swear, I only know her as much as my family friend talked about her.” A beat, their eyes flickering downwards before they spoke again. “It’s a coincidence that I ended up here. I applied on a whim and…it’s a really good school. I didn’t know all this would be going on.”

JESSE - Jesse was introduced to Jacqui through a family friend. The summer before their senior year of high school, they got involved, including losing her virginity to Jesse, only to find out he was fucking with them the entire time, and blocked their number when he went back to Ogden.

THE FAMILY FRIEND IS A WANTED CONNECTION !!!

more connections tbd

BIOGRAPHY

FAMILY:

family page tbd

SOCIAL CLASS: upper middle/upper class

FATHER: TBD

MOTHER: TBD

SIBLING(S)? TBD

expanded biography tbd

SOME FUN FACTS

if they had to pick one tarot card, it would be the high priestess - the divine feminine, female sexuality, but also the blending of the two binary genders. and they do often have it come up in readings about themselves.

along those lines, they believe in empowerment through sexuality so yeah whatever they may hoe around from time to time

their preferred method of transportation is a skateboard or rollerblades

she loves the moon. like lovessss the moon.

and does new and full moon spells and tarot readings every month

their favorite animals are dragons and YES, that counts

can (and will) rap/sing any doja cat song at the slightest provocation

#about #muse #ogdenintro

5 notes · View notes

heckolve · 3 years

Text

this might be a dumb question but i’m wondering if i filled my hair with a red demi permanent dye and then put brown demi permanent color on top if one color would fade out before the other did or if they would fade out at the same rate lol

#this is highly specific so i doubt anyone has an answer 💔 but anyways. i dont even know if filling works with demi permanents #my hair might go green or gray if the red fades out first idk 😭#i wanna dye my hair dark brown for a little while lol. maybe ill do permanent dye if i like it #but i'd hate to deal with the blonde growing out it would look shitty 😪✌ if it faded out i think thatd be better #rant #dl #i'm trying 2 learn a lot about dying and bleaching hair but like.#why is there almost nothing about naturally blonde people dying their hair that is so weird

1 note · View note

kiridarling · 3 years

Text

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒.

katsuki bakugou | birthday gone wrong (aha), f!reader, baker!reader, pro hero!katsuki, blizzards, angst and smut, exhibitionism, cockwarming, begging, confessions. minors dni!

— 4.7k words

Wanna blow off some steam?

“Surprise!”

Katsuki jumps ten feet high, and the plastic grocery bags precariously balanced on each finger tear without a second thought. Apples hit the ground with a thud and the egg carton with a depressing slap; one that signifies the crack of at least half a dozen. Katsuki looks at the crowd, red-faced and livid, and Eijirou Kirishima intercepts the awkward silence with:

“Happy Birthday Bakubro! I know y—“

“Said that I didn’t want a fuckin’ party?” Katsuki growls, groceries forgotten on the forgotten. Eijirou looks guilty and chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“W-Well, yeah, but—“

“Everybody out.”

People sigh, and you think you hear Denki whisper told you he’d kick us out. You hate to say that you foresaw a similar outcome. Katsuki’s never been one for people.

Especially you.

“Awe come on, Kacchan,” Izuku says with hands on his hips. “We came all this way! Just let us stay for a little bit.”

“Yeah!” Eijirou seems to cheer up once given a sliver of hope. “Plus, we got cake and stuff. And Just Dance.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, but you know better—he’s always had a soft spot for the redhead. You all wait with baited breath, wondering if this entire evening was a bust, as Katsuki weighs his options in a pool of fallen groceries.

“One hour.”

Eijirou gasps so hard he chokes, and Katsuki’s generosity earns him applause from the audience. (Plus whoops and hollers from Denki and Mina.)

“And I mean it—y’all have sixty fuckin’ minutes before you’re gone without a goddamn trace. Kapeesh?”

“Kapeesh!”

Katsuki sighs, rubbing at his temples as he steps over the mess at the front door. You assume he’ll make Eijirou clean it up. “Whatever. Where’s the fuckin’ cake?”

Ah.

“In the kitchen, my good sir!” Denki says as he ushers the ash-blond into the said kitchen, the rest of the party hot on their heels. Eijirou grabs the cake from the fridge and you’re tense until the plate hits the marble of their island.

“Flavor?” Katsuki asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, I dunno, [Y/N] made it,” Eijirou throws you under the bus, just like that, and you want to scoff at the way Katsuki freezes—if only for a moment. Eijirou’s oblivious as ever, “[Y/N]?”

“It’s red velvet,” you say, trying not to burn under Katsuki’s carmine eyes. You don’t know why he doesn’t look away.

“Frosting?”

“Buttercream.”

As if you’d give him anything else.

Eijirou tries his best to cram 26 candles into the cake before being forced to opt for 23 lest he ruin your decorations. Denki presses him to make a wish and Katsuki rolls his eyes as he blows out the candles. Eijirou wipes an invisible tear because ‘his boy is getting so old.’ Mina and Jiro cut the cake and people seem to enjoy it, and you think that maybe, reuniting with your high school friends after so long isn’t as bad as you thought it’d be.

Even if he said he never wanted to see you again.

“—due to the incoming blizzard, we highly suggest all those who reside in the red and orange zones stay inside until it passes; which should be around ten am tomorrow morning.”

You spoke too soon.

Katsuki turns to the crowd, and you know what he’s going to say before his lip curls.

“Out.”

“Kacchan, don’t be unreasonable!” Izuku says from his comfortable position on the couch. “We’d get caught in the storm if we leave now.”

“Not if you’re fuckin’ fast enough,” Katsuki growls, pulling the greenette’s to his feet by his hair. “Get out, I’m not bunking with you fuckers overnight.”

“Dude,” Denki points to the window, and if you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought the blizzard had already started. “If we leave now, we’ll literally die.”

“Die, then.”

Eijirou sighs, clapping his roommate on the back. “C’mon, man. You know we ca—“

There’s a whirr then a click, and the lights and tv die at once. You can’t see a thing but you definitely hear Katsuki shout:

“Motherfucker!”

Eijirou turns his phone flashlight on first; Katsuki’s busy angrily flicking at the light to no avail. You sigh, turning to the ash-blond (and ignoring those ugly fucking butterflies in your stomach.)

“It’s a blackout Katsuki. The lights aren’t going to work.”

“Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that, dumbass?” And your chest tightens because even though he’s not eighteen anymore, he sounds the same—but you aren’t sure why you expected him to sound so different either.

You lift an eyebrow (not that he can see it), “It doesn’t look like you do.”

Denki snorts at that, hollering about how you just owned the ash-blond as Katsuki yells at him to shut the fuck up. It’s...familiar and comfortable, like you’re all in high school again, before you had to worry about your friends dying in their line of work because you couldn’t be there with them.

Before you got injured.

“Well I mean, we have a few blankets,” Eijirou offers, and as your eyes slowly adjust to the dark, you’re convinced you see his figure cross the living room. “And like, sweatshirts if it gets too cold.”

“It’s already getting too cold,” Mina says, and you can’t help but agree. The quickly cooling room has the goosebumps raising on your shoulders, and you’re starting to regret forgetting your jacket at home.

“Okay! I don’t have that many, but,” Eijirou hollers from somewhere, before returning with a handful of cloth. He drops it onto the coffee table. “Plus Hanta and Denks left their hoodies here last time.”

“Oh shit, we did?” Hanta says, and you assume it’s his figure who starts digging through the clothes. “Totally thought I lost this, lol.”

“Did you just saw lol out loud?”

“I did.”

“Ooh Ei, do you still have that old Red Riot hoodie?” Mina asks, and all of a sudden, she’s all over the pile. She finds it before the redhead can answer and snatches it away with a gasp.

You watch the pile dissolve in the darkness, one by one, and by the time you reach for something, your palm hits the cool wood of the coffee table. Fuck.

“Oh [Y/N]! Do you need some of my blanket?” Mina offers, but the blanket is small, and wrapping it around both of your shoulders just renders it utterly useless. You shake your head after she tries for a while.

“It’s fine Mina, I’m not that cold,” you laugh, but she shakes her head vehemently.

“No! Girl c’mon, you look like you’re freezing!”

And, well. Freezing is a stretch. Sure, you’re a little cold, but you’ll live.

“Do you need my sweatshirt?” Eijirou asks, already pulling at the hem. You roll your eyes.

“I’m serious guys, it’s not that bad,” you say, waving your arms for emphasis. They all grumble but they give up, and you feel like you can finally relax.

Something soft and army green drops into your lap. You pick it up in confusion, before looking up to see who dropped it.

Katsuki looks down at you, face glowing white from the phone flashlights. His eyes pierce your soul nevertheless.

“I don’t ne—“

“Take it.”

Katsuki takes a seat next to you on the couch in his own hoodie. You don’t realize until you put it on that he gave you a sweatshirt themed after his own hero costume.

You can’t sleep.

You can’t sleep, and you’re sure it’s due to the temperature. The wind howls and it sounds like you’re in the eye of a tornado, loose branches knocking against the rattling glass, and upon looking through the window, you see nothing but stark white. You sigh, checking the time on your phone for the fiftieth time this hour. Yep. Still four am.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’, dumbass.”

You all decided to bunk in the living room for warmth. You’re surprised Katsuki stayed, though; you figured he would just head to his room and let you all fend for yourselves while he slept in a comfortable bed. But here he is, sleeping next to you on the cold fucking floor.

“Sorry,” you say, but it’s hard when your shivering and your jaw aches from stunting your chattering teeth. Katsuki and Eijirou only had a limited amount of sleeping bags, meaning you’ve got to share a blanket with the hulking ash-blond.

“You cold?” He grunts. You don’t know why he’s asking.

“No.”

Katsuki sighs, and you hear him adjust, the blanket sliding from your neck to your shoulder. “You’re a shit liar.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows to glare his way, and you look to notice Katsuki’s laying the same way.

“What’s your point?”

Katsuki doesn’t answer for a moment, but it doesn’t seem like he’s looking for an answer, either—his neon red eyes glow through the dark and straight into your soul, and the next time you shiver, it isn’t because of the temperature.

“You’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, “Thought you figured that out senior year.”

Katsuki’s face flashes with an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint before it’s gone again. “Yeah. You’d think almost dying would fuckin’ fix that.”

You sigh. Looks like you’re having this conversation now, then.

“I didn’t almost die—“

“Yes, you fuckin’ did,” Katsuki snarls, and Denki almost stirs at his raised tone. “You took that bullet and you didn’t get up for months—“

“And then I woke up and everything was fine! Seriously Katsuki, what’s your problem? I lived.”

“My problem is that you shouldn’t have been there in the goddamn first place!” Katsuki says through grit teeth. You watch his temple roll underneath his hairline. “That was my fuckin’ fight. I don’t need some chick jumping in front of a bullet for me just ‘cause she thinks I can’t take it!”

You scoff, looking around to see if any of your other sleeping friends are listening because get a load of this guy. Naturally, they don’t respond.

“That’s what this is about? Oh, well I’m sorry I bruised your dignity because I didn’t want to see you get fucking shot!”

Katsuki chest inflates with disbelief before it deflates again, and he’s rolling his eyes before he says, “That’s not—you fuckin’ know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh really?” You laugh, and goddammit Katsuki, you just had to bring it up, didn’t you? “Because waking up after two months to your best friend telling you to give up doesn’t preserve your dignity at all, huh?”

“I didn’t tell you to fu—“

“You said those exact words, Katsuki. You said give up, and you left the hospital.”

The ash-blond has nothing to say to that, because he knows that you know you’re right, and trying to jedi mind trick you into believing he isn’t an asshole won’t work.

“Well you fuckin’ listened,” he grumbles, more to himself than you, but enough emotion flares in your core to make you want to scream.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say, huffing, before turning your back to him, deeming this conversation over. “Good night, Katsuki.”

There’s a lull and it has you convinced you’ve won, finally relaxing (as much as you can) onto the cold floor. At least arguing heated your blood up a bit.

“The fuck do you mean?”

You roll your eyes even though they’re closed before you hop back onto your forearms to give the ash-blond a nasty look. “What?”

“You...said you didn’t have a choice,” Katsuki says, and it’s the first time you think you’ve heard him sound weary. Unsure. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means I had to give up on being a hero either way.”

Which sucked. Because you had spent the past four years of your life working your ass off to save others, and you wind up out of commission before you even got started. You...suppose you didn’t tell Katsuki the whole story. Well, you hadn’t had a chance to—today’s the first time speaking with him since you woke up in the hospital.

Katsuki eyes you out of his peripheral, but only for a second. “And that means...?”

“It means that if I land on my spine the wrong way, there’s a high chance I’ll be paralyzed from the waist down.” You growl, frustrated that it was easier to coax the truth out of you than you thought.

The bullet buried close to your spinal column. You had to do PT for months, relearning how to walk as you slowly regain your motor functions. That’s when you started to bake.

“Oh.”

The howling of the wind turns from somewhat soothing to aggravating as Katsuki’s unimpressive “oh” hangs heavy in the air, and you find yourself sighing, the puzzle pieces finally clicking in your head. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Katsuki asks—he’s still not looking at you.

“Blaming yourself,” you gesture to his figure, which is lax with depression, lacking its sturdiness and usual fire. “You didn’t shoot the gun.”

Katsuki snorts at that, running a hand through his hair, “I might as well.”

“Stop.”

“You got shot because of me,” Katsuki says as if it were a fact. “They were trying to kill me. Not you.”

“And they didn’t kill me. I’m here and you’re here. If I hadn’t been there, you’d be six feet under right now,” you reason. Katsuki shrugs because he’s just as stubborn as you are, and you figure he’s been carrying around this baggage for too many years.

“Does your back hurt often?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean sure, I get flare-ups sometimes, but it’s not too bad. Doesn’t really get in the way of baking as long as the table is high enough.”

Katsuki thinks for a moment, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “Is the table high enough? At your café.”

You shrug, failing to see where he’s going with this. “I have a platform thingy, so. It’s mostly for decorating cakes and things—“

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“What?”

“I’ll buy you a new table,” Katsuki says, nodding to himself as if he was confirming the idea. “A higher one.”

It takes a second for his offer to process, but once it does, you’re fighting a smile. Still the same kid. “Kats, I don’t nee—“

“An—And if you need a new chair. I’ll pay for that shit too.”

You shake your head—mainly in disbelief, “I don’t need a chair, Katsuki.”

“Then what?” He asks, and it almost sounds desperate with the speed he rushed the sentence, “Y’need a car? That hunk of junk you drive could use some work.”

You ignore the jab, because your car works perfectly fine thank you very much, and snort at the suggestion of such an outrageous purchase.

“What? You tryna be my sugar daddy or something?” You joke. Katsuki gives you a look, and it's dead serious.

“D’ya need one?”

“I—no!” You laugh, and have to remind yourself to reel it in before you actually wake Denki up. “I’m fine financially I just—what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothin’.” Katsuki quickly grumbles, facing forwards again. “I just...”

You raise an eyebrow, “You just..?”

“I dunno. I dunno,” Katsuki shakes his head. You let him gather his thoughts in silence before he tries again. He doesn’t.

“Then fuck me.”

In your defense, your mouth moved before you thought it through.

Katsuki has an unreadable look on his face, but his voice is anything but steady when he says, “What?”

Fuck. Fuck.

“U-Uh, I mean,” you recoil. Stupid big mouth. “I—you—don’t worry about it.”

“You said you wanted to fuck me,” Katsuki deadpans. You choke.

“I—no, that’s not—“

“That’s exactly what you said.”

“No, I meant as in I’m pent up. Obviously,” you defend with a huff, crossing your arms on the pillow as you glare daggers his way. Katsuki matches your stare.

“Not as pent up as a Pro Hero,” he scoffs, lifting an eyebrow. You take it as a challenge.

You click your tongue in faux pity, “Awe, the number two hero Dynamight doesn’t get laid?”

“No fuckin’ time,” he grunts, though you don’t find much remorse in his voice.

“Well, you have time now,” you say, completely unsure of where this confidence is coming from. Either way, you’ll take it and run.

“I do,” Katsuki confirms, leaning in closer. He’s close enough that you can smell what’s leftover of his cologne, and see the hint of a grin that makes his upper cheek shine silver in the moonlight. You find yourself leaning in just as much as he does.

“Wanna blow off some steam?” You dare to question. Katsuki’s grin only grows wider.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Katsuki’s kisses are surprisingly soft, you think, and so are his lips. But you don’t have much time to think about it as he pulls you in by the waist, quietly groaning into your mouth while he lays you down on your back.

“Always thought you were the prettiest fuckin’ thing,” he growls, trailing butterfly kisses down your neck. “‘M gonna make it up to you, yeah? Make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

A hand hikes his sweatshirt above your chest before Katsuki’s latching onto the skin under your collarbone and sucking, teeth digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

“Y-Yeah, that’s fine,” you whimper, intoxicated by the way Katsuki’s lips flush pink as he pulls away, eyes locked on the fresh hickey on your chest. They flicker up to you; he grins.

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

Katsuki hums at that, licking his lips before diving back in. You hiss when he bites too hard, prompting him to bite harder, but he always soothes it over with his tongue, topping each bruise with a kiss. You flinch when his lips wrap around your nipple and he chuckles at your meek whimper; a hand removes its grip on the sweatshirt in favor of sliding it up your thigh.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Katsuki says once he pulls away, enjoying the sight of you writhing in anticipation. “And it’s all for me, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, ‘m all yours just—“ you kick a leg in frustration at the thumb playing with the hem of your panties, “—do something already.”

Katsuki raises an eyebrow, “Do what?”

You frown, huffing, “You know what.”

Katsuki shrugs, adjusting so he’s caging you to the floor. Ghosting a thumb over your panties, he says, “‘Course I do. You gotta ask nicely first.”

You tighten your hands into fists. He would.

“I’m no—“

“Beg, Princess,” Katsuki growls, his stare unwavering. He presses an inquisitive finger to your clit through your panties either as a promise or a threat—which, you’re not quite sure.

You crumble.

“I—fine, just—finger me.”

Katsuki doesn’t move. Asshole.

“Please.”

The ash-blond grins, finally pushing your panties to the side.

“Good girl.”

When Katsuki slides his first finger in, it’s much too easy, and you blame it on the foreplay. You shudder, hands moving to brace themselves on his big shoulders, and the ash-blond muffles a moan as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Another,” you moan, bucking your hips into his palm. Katsuki’s heated gaze flickers from your body to your face.

“Already?” He chuckles, the rasp in his throat giving his arousal away. You nod—he clicks his tongue.

“Fuckin’ dirty.”

Two fingers feel like so much more than just one, and they have your eyebrows folding in a poor attempt to muffle a whimper. Katsuki’s fingers still move tentatively but they’re getting comfortable, curling and searching for that place that’ll make you tremble. And then he finds it.

“F-Fuck,” your body jolts, and Katsuki’s shushing you against the pillows.

“Keep your mouth shut, Princess,” he purrs, head dipping down to nip at your neck. It adjusts the angle ever so slightly, but enough to make you hiss, and he chuckles. “Unless you wanna get caught.”

“Oh yeah, because that sounds fun right now,” you snort towards the ceiling. Katsuki pulls away with an unimpressed look as his thumb comes down over your clit.

“Can’t wait to fuck the brat outta ya. Maybe then you’ll actually shut up for once, huh?” Katsuki inserts a third finger without you asking him to, and you gasp, clawing at his back.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he laughs against your mouth lowly, as if the light kisses will do anything but make more noise, “Good God sweetheart, you’re really pent up, aren’t ya?”

“Shit—I doubt you’re much better,” you try, scoffing at what you can see of his painfully hard cock in his sweatpants. Katsuki looks down before sending a huff your way, with a cute little blush dusted on his cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, pulling out his fingers. You whine at the loss. “How d’ya want me to fuck you?”

You need to take a step back from how crude the question is. Right, sex.

“Right um,” you look around, trying to find the least obvious position—and one that doesn’t make a shit ton of noise. Laying on your side, you tuck an arm under the pillow, before turning around to Katsuki to suggest, “Cuddle-fucking?”

“Cuddle-fucking.”

“Yep,” you say with finality, popping the p. Making big grabby hands his way, you say, “C’mere, big guy.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but moves behind you anyways, warm arms easily finding themselves around your waist under the blanket. After a few adjustments and ensuring you're both fully covered, Katsuki’s hard cock presses against your entrance as he hooks his head over your chin with a huff.

“This is so not on fuckin’ brand.”

“I don’t think fucking in a living room with sleeping friends is on-brand for a pro hero or a baker,” you say casually. Katsuki breaks out into a snort, pressing his face deeper into your neck.

“God, I fuckin’ missed you, ya know that?” He chortles. Your chest blooms with something it hasn’t in years, and for the first time, you find that you don’t mind.

“Don’t be such a dick and maybe I’ll stick around this time,” you quip with a smile he can’t see. Though you feel his against the base of your neck.

“Noted.”

Katsuki’s last words hang in the air, unusually heavy, and your eyes catch the snow beating against the window with a less than angry howl. Katsuki’s chest shudders against your back but he doesn’t move, hands frozen at your waist.

“Hey, I thought you were gon—“

“I’m getting to it,” Katsuki snaps, and you gasp as he starts to push inside. “So fuckin’ impatient, goddamn.”

He pulls you down until he fills you completely, and you suppress the urge to shout at the speed he did it with. Katsuki moves a hand to slap over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You reach around to pinch him in the side with a huff, he calls you a bitch. It’s a little hard to hear you behind his hand as you say, “Then don’t catch me off guard like that, asshole.”

Katsuki snaps his hips and does exactly what you tell him not to do—prompting another surprised whine out of you and a dark chuckle from the ash-blond. His cheek presses into your jaw as he finds leverage in hiking your lower half up until your puffy cunt is level with his cock, and fucking you until you drool all over the pillow.

“What a pretty fuckin’ thing,” Katsuki grunts, and you can tell he struggles to keep quiet in the way his chest sporadically shudders. You have to grip the pillow for some semblance of purchase and Katsuki chuckles at watching you struggle, before he’s hiking your leg up to fuck you that much deeper.

“I always—always knew you’d sound so good,” he pants, the grip around your mouth bordering on clammy. You want to tell him that if he keeps making so much noise he’ll wake up everyone in this fucking room, but there isn’t much time between moans to get more than a word in. “Fuck baby, keep tightening around me like that, and I might fuckin’ cum.”

You find it amusing how close he is so quickly, until two fingers land on your clit and start rubbing in slow, small circles. Your walls flutter around him and Katsuki digs his teeth into your neck with a curse, his grip around your raised thigh contracting as he tries to hold on for as long as he can.

And that’s when Denki starts to move.

First, he rolls to the left. Which would’ve been fine, seeing as it’s in the opposite direction until he bops Eijirou straight on the nose and promptly rouses the redhead from his slumber. Katsuki’s hips still.

“O-Ow, dick,” Eijirou curses under his breath, quickly scrambling to his forearms. It’s hard to tell through the darkness, mostly because you’re squinting your eyes to feign sleep, but it seems like Eijirou rubs under his nose, only to blink back at a bloody hand.

“...Shit.”

Katsuki’s hips shift, ever so slightly, but enough to nestle his cock deeper and force you to bite back a whine. And another. And then another.

You try your hardest to be discreet when you reach to pinch Katsuki in the side, and he breathes a laugh down your neck.

“What?” He whispers, though it's more than a rasp than anything else. Good to know you’re not the only one struggling to not cum, here.

“You know 'what,'” you quickly hiss. But Katsuki’s hips don’t stop as Eijirou weighs his options to cure his bloody nose in the dark. The fingers on your clit return their usual pressure and you inhale sharply, nails digging into Katsuki’s forearm as your orgasm begins creeping up on you.

Eijirou sniffles and gets up, stumbling through the darkness to turn down the hall that leads to the bedrooms. Katsuki sees that as fucking freedom and his hips really start to pick up so much speed that you struggle to breathe through it all.

“‘M gonna cum,” Katsuki whimpers into your neck, burying his face deeper in a poor attempt to stunt any sound. “Fuck, fuck ‘m gonna cum, you close baby?”

“Y-Yeah jus’ a little more,” you whimper, eyes rolling as Katsuki finds some inhumane energy in him to fuck faster. He nods at that and bites into your shoulder with a growl, “C’mon, fuckin’ cream all over my cock—atta girl, fuck, fuck—“

Katsuki fills you up the moment you clench around his cock with a sigh, the weight of your orgasm knocking you forehead-first into your pillow as you bite the urge to squeal. Katsuki doesn't growl as much as you expect, moans breathy and light as his hips finally stutter to a stop—but you suppose some things have to change over the years.

Katsuki collapses next to you in pure exhaustion and you’re sure that’s his cum leaking down your thigh, but for some reason, you don’t really mind.

“Hey you,” he speaks first, eyes blazing red in the darkness. You snort.

“Hey, you.”

Katsuki chuckles with a stupidly giddy smile on his face, "Y'know, you still fuck really well."

You drop your head on his chest to snort, and his hands find their rightful place around your waist.

"Better than high school?"

"Yeah..." Katsuki grumbles, before his eyes narrow. "Wait—hey, yo—"

"I haven't fucked anyone since," you snuff the fire before it even starts, and Katsuki relaxes, though his eyes stay slim. He pulls you closer and you sigh—it's comfortable.

"Good," he grunts. And then after a pregnant silence: "I haven't either."

That's...strangely reassuring.

Your arms wriggle until they fold over his shoulders to play with the small hairs on the back of his neck, and he hums, eyes fluttering shut with a final peck on the lips. As Katsuki's breathing evens and the white of the snow dyes the highest points of his face white, you smile. He looks older.

You think he's asleep until he nudges your waist.

"Be my girlfriend."

You don't even hesitate.

"Okay."

By the time Eijirou comes stumbling down the hall, both you and Katsuki are passed out—with his body encompassing yours in the most intimate way, face tucked into your hickey-ridden neck as your arms and legs lock around his being. The redhead gives you both a soft smile as he passes, snorting to himself.

“Took them long enough.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY THOTSUKI

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #bnha smut #bakugou smut #mha smut

900 notes · View notes

cinnaminsvga · 3 years

Text

a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary:

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.}

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it.

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch. If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn’t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away. Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p. You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.

1K notes · View notes

georgiaheartsdilfs · 2 years

Text

→ man in my dreams (PT1) bucky b x reader

inspired by @demonsandmischief 's story something special ↪link to their story: something special part one prompt ↪ when you go to sleep at night, you have dreams of a man. A man that you have sworn to have seen once before in your life, every morning you try to write down everything you remembered about him from the dream but the only thing you could remember was blue eyes. You didn't know what the dreams meant but you knew that it had to be something to do with him, until one dream changed everything. "you're that man in my dreams..." warnings / other notes ↪delusions, its also confusing but to me I understood it. ↪you might need to keep an eye out for the POV change cause its one of those one, and i dont know if there is alot because i didnt reread this or edit it. ↪ the grey lines are a sign of scenery or pov change if you don't like this pov idc im bored Y/N's POV It had been playing on my mind all week, why was this man always in my dreams. I haven't been able to dream about normal things for months, what was the reasoning behind his abnormal appearances and why do I only remember his blue eyes. His blue eyes, naturally I'd go looking at peoples eyes but even though blue is a rare colour I just can't walk up to people and ask what their eye colour is. "blue eyes" I had been sitting in this position on my bed for hours I didn't even notice what the time was until my phone started buzzing, grabbing it i look at the clock and notice that it was 3:32 in the morning and that I and been sitting here trying to draw his eye area for almost four hours. There had to be a reason why this man kept appearing in my dreams, it wasn't a normal dream either. I'd be there watching him fight bad guys and sometimes I'd see him sleeping almost as if I was spectating his day. Even during my days at work, I try to remember were I had seen those blue eyes. It didn't haunt me but it also didn't sit well in my stomach, the man it was odd that the only thing I remembered from the man was his eyes. Nothing else but his eyes. I wasn't focused about any other day though, when I was having a nap earlier today I seemed to remember something else about him... his voice. His voice wasn't exactly deep but it wasn't too high either, I did notice, however that when he wanted his voice could be deep.

His voice was smooth, more menacing and threatening when it wanted to be and I remembered a name "Sam?" I mutter jotting down the name on the piece of paper where I had his eye drawn down. Obviously, I wasn't an artist but the eye I had drawn was good enough for me to remember what it looked like even though I saw them every night. The dream, it disappeared within seconds of waking up but I'd always sleep with a pen and paper scribbling down anything I could remember, but it would all come back the moment I fell asleep. a tower? sam? a jet... a jet? They gave me no hints, at first I thought it could have been Tony Stark given the tower and the jet but Stark's voice couldn't be that deep even if you gave me testosterone. Besides, Stark didn't have blue eyes. I've seen him on the television enough times to know that brown was not blue. Yesterday I had asked my best friend if she had any dreams like these, spectating a man and his everyday life but every time I asked, she would deflect and ask if I was on my meds. My meds aren't even for a mental illness or anything, it was for my asthma. I sketched the blue eyes over and over again, trying to make a face out of it but each time ending in someone with blonde hair and small lips. Although that could be the guy, I just dont feel like someone like that would have such a sexy.. hot, voice. So blonde hair was out of the picture, but what if their hair was dyed. I give up. I placed my sketchbook and pencil on my bedside drawer turning my light off. Closing my eyes trying to fall asleep once more.

The dream, here I was, there he was. Watching Television? He looked handsome, sure I had seen everything he had done but i can't help but think he was just lost. God he looked hot. "I can't believe anybody would think this was a news worthy story, can you believe this?" he says holding the remote throwing popcorn in his mouth, he turned around. He wasn't in his usual dark room, this room was lighter. "Sam?" he asked turning around, Sam seemed to be well I don't know, I couldn't see. I could only see him and his surroundings, not the people he fought with or even interacted to. "Yes Buck I don't believe it" Sam would mumble, Sam sounded American like the man in my dreams but Sam sounded less stressed, less angry all the time. He had appeared a few times in my dreams of this man, he must've been the man's friend although this man didn't have many friends but it didn't seem to bother him because most of the time he was alone, in his own company and whenever he was he'd enjoy it more than anything else. He always seem to look down at his arm, his arm was made out of metal almost like Iron man's suit but this arm wasn't a suit it was like apart of him, this was a detail I could never remember but I swear I know some famous guy with a metal arm. The man scratches his neck "do you get that feeling like you're being watched?" the man asked "we are avengers, of course we would feel watched everyone's on our asses Buck" Buck.... the winter soldier bucky? Avengers? They had never mentioned this, but I guess thats a given since everybody already knows who they are but then again everyone else can see their faces. "Bucky" I whisper and he turns around "Did you hear that?" he said. Did he just hear me? "Hear what Bucky? There's nobody there" Sam says, there it was his face, his perfect face. It was unusually symmetrical for an old man. "I swear I heard something" Bucky said shrugging it off. The scenery changed, what? it's never done this before it was always Bucky did it change because I figured out who he was? What the hell is going on. "you need to get that soldier back online" it was a man, a hydra man. I could see everything here? I have so many questions and no one to answer them, god this sucked, but it was like a james bond film sort of. "we can't he's been healed" a man stutters "GET HIM BACK, HUNT HIM, CUT HIS OTHER ARM OF JUST FIND HIM" the old man yells smashing the table in half. Then everything went black, still black and then it's back to Bucky sitting watching TV. "Hydra has a plan Bucky I just cant put my finger on it" Sam said, I could see his face this time. He was the falcon guy, he was given Captain America's shield but gave it to the local museum or whatever, I don't know I didn't catch up. I start saying my number "x-xxx-xxx-xxxx" it was faint, I couldn't even hear my own voice for once. Bucky and Sam look around "you heard that right?" I had never been able to speak to them before, this was odd. Maybe the universe wasn't after Bucky like he always says it is, but out of all people why me? Maybe he gets the same dreams I do "hello" Bucky says spinning around. "hello?" I say "who are you?" Sam yells "relax you don't have to yell.." I say quietly, they were both now standing at a table where I was situated on the opposite side of them. "you can hear me?" I ask them and they nod "can you see us?" Sam asked "yeah uh hello im right in front of you, I suppose you can't see me" I say look around "are you like dead?" Bucky said. "If I was dead, I wouldn't be here. Come on James pull yourself together" I mumble "repeat the number" Sam says pulling out a pen "ugh x-xxx-xxx-xxxx" I repeat, I could now feel myself waking up and everything falling apart "call me, say your names and hopefully I'll remember and explain it all" I say. My voice was fading away, the vision would go from black to seeing them again until it went completely black "You feel that, the presence its gone" Bucky says "are you a psychic?" Sam said, their voices faded.

my phone started ringing and I sat up immediately, so it was like a real real person. I answered the phone hello is this y/n y/l/n i hope so the voice said, why could I remember everything now? I remember who he is, James Buchanan Barnes the Winter Soldier. "Bucky?" I whisper, the image of his beautiful face printed in my mind thats me uh who are you why could i hear you "uh I can't quite explain it" I stutter grabbing my paper and pen taking down his number incase it disappeared when I hung up. "hydra know where you are" I say whilst writing the number what, how do you even know? "I dont know i just have these visions I could explain it but uh I dont know how" I continue to stutter. What was I suppose to say, Hey Bucky I see you all the time but you can't see me and sometimes, I don't remember it but like for some reason right now I can. great then where are you another voice said "Sam?" I ask how do you know who i am? he asked "god I don't know if only I could just like explain it all but now im paranoid" I clear my throat looking around my room. It looked as if it wasn't my room anymore, the room started distorting "oh god" I say what, what's happening? the voice said over the phone "i dont know i've never had this before" I clear my throat, the old man from hydra, how? what? "look i know you are across the world but when you're on your way back message me and meet me at the closest cafe to the tower" I say before hanging up. I stand up getting out of my bed who are you the man spins around "wait you can see me" I ask, how is this even possible. how did you get in here the old man says walking towards me grabbing my arm "i-i i'm sorry sir i have no clue who you even are, or how i even got here" I clear my throat. get out of here girl, this is no place for you he says throwing me at the door as I shut my eyes. I wait to feel my face against the wall but a couple minutes go by and still no wall, I slowly open my eyes and I was back in my room. My phone on my bed with my drawings. My phone vibrates constantly, I speed walk over to my phone hello? hello? y/n? where did you go? are you alright? we are on our way. Be safe. im fine jesus christ great sorry read 8:24am

Bucky's POV My thoughts ran wild, I had sworn for the past few nights I had felt someone's presence lurking in the shadows, following me. Then I heard her voice, I swore I was mad but then I heard her voice, it was like the voice of an angel. Staring at my phone waiting for a response. im fine jesus christ A weight was lifted off my shoulders, I hadn't particularly known her for ten minutes and I was already worried about her, thinking about what she was doing. "Sam we need to go see her" I finally speak up "No Kidding" Sam rolled his eyes, I turn to see he was already packed. Had I been standing for long? Packing my backs Sam taps his food against the wooden floor "Shield says to take her with us, if she knows hydra, hydra knows her" he says and I turn to see him leaning against the doorframe with a serious face. "great, another passenger as if Zemo wasn't enough" I rolled my eyes at him getting back to packing "Zemo was your doing, your responsibility" Sam says I can hear his judgy tone "you're worried for the poor girl aren't you" he asks as I throw my bag over my shoulder walking past. "That's why your acting like you don't care" he runs up to me "I don't care for the girl, I care about myself not going back to that monster alright and if she has answers I want them, lets go" I mumble grabbing Zemo as we walk out to the car. My mind for once was clear, clear for everything except her. What did she look like? I imagine black hair with brown eyes or maybe brown hair with brown eyes. It was all so thrilling to me, if her voice was enough to calm me imagine how beautiful she is. "we will be there tonight so I suppose we'd have to surprise her at her apartment, luckily shields kind of pervy for that kind of stuff" Sam says handing me a file, I hold it seeing a top of a photo which I presume to be a photo of her. I wanted to open it, but I didn't want to invade her privacy, to know everything on record about her. "aren't you going to open it" Sam asks "well of course he won't he doesn't want to spoil the mission" Zemo says in a snarky tone. "Talk one more time and I'm throwing you out mid ride I'm serious man" Sam says "look she isn't a mission, I just don't want to intrude on her privacy i mean she's 24" I say "exactly she's 24 what could be the worst on her file" Sam says, I take a look at the thick file. There was no way she didn't have a secret with a file this big, she must have some special thing going on. "Sam, I'm not going to alright" I mumble "fine" he says. My phone buzzes once more and I open it. are you actually gonna meet me though, isn't it like ridiculous you know im not having second thoughts. you are so having second thoughts we are on our way now but we won't be there until tonight Im assuming you have my file read it if you want im sure everyone already has. it's fine, sam knows where you are so i guess keep an ear out for us be safe i will jeesh you old people are so ... weary I chuckle at my phone screen and Sam looks next to me "is it that girl from the restaurant?" he asked "what girl?" I ask "you know the waitress" he said, she was alright her voice was smooth but not as smooth as y/n. Why was I so attracted to her, I hadn't even seen her and I haven't even known her for a day what made her so special that made me forget about the real world for a brief moment. Sam looked at my phone "oh its y/n" he said "she was just asking a question" I say putting my phone in my pocket taking off my jacket "god this thing itches my arm" I say scratching my arm "that gets itchy" Sam says "not his metal arm fool" Zemo says. I'm so thankful Zemo was

rich, otherwise we'd still be here by the end of the day. I'm far too eager to meet y/n right now, I don't know why. Sam pulls the car over at the airport runway and Zemo's butler is there waiting, the butler smiles and I roll my eyes stepping foot into the jet.

Y/N's POV It started getting late and I finally got off work, working overtime sure sucks but it distracted myself from the fact that I might be meeting the man in my dream that's not only handsome but an avenger. The avenger thing didn't really matter to me, it would shock a lot of other people but my life doesn't revolve around superheroes... or it didn't. Walking through my apartment door was a relief, smelling my homely scent flopping back onto my sofa turning on the TV throwing my jacket and bag on the floor like it was rubbish being tossed in the bin. Now it started getting really late and time was going by fast, 9pm, 10pm, 11:30pm, 12am. When are they coming? are you far? I dont think so, i dont know nyc that well but uh i'd assume we aren't far since we are driving i hope you aren't driving and texting old man that is very very dangerous I laugh at my cheeky text, he had been looking out for me the whole time he was on his way. Rightfully so I suppose because hydra knows who I am now, thanks to this stupid vision stuff. Bucky had been on my mind all day at work, not for any particular reason but he just was, well I guess there was a reason. He was coming to my house. A couple minutes later I hear footsteps getting closer to my front door "PLEASE TELL ME ITS THEM" I yell throwing my head back and then I hear a knock at the door. Rubbing my eyes I stand up and walk over to the door, opening it to be greeted by three men. "great I forgot the jailbird was with you" I yawn placing my hand out, Bucky shaking it, then Sam and then Zemo "y/n" Bucky nods "Come in" I say inviting them in. "I was starting to fall asleep, I thought you'd finally let it go" I say "no we're not letting it go, if you know hydra, hydra knows you" Sam says and I nod, I've had a history with Hydra when I was a teenager I killed a few of their agents not long after the death of my parents. "now which one of yous read my file" I say "drink?" I ask and none of the nod "great because uh I'm broke, new york is expensive" I mumble, I was extremely tired waiting for these idiots. "zemo and I read your file, Bucky refused said it was an intrusion of privacy" Sam says as they all sit on my sofa, I stand infront of them "you, didn't read my file when I said you could" I point to Bucky who nods, I may have sounded rude but my heart was beating so fast it could be exploding in any second just by looking at him. "well I just didn't want to" Bucky shrugged. "Right, I just wasted your time honestly so I'm going to bed" I turn walking off "What?" Sam says "Look I love your guys saving the world thing, but my memory is currently weaker than Bucky's and he is like 80 years older than" I say "no offence" I smile sweetly to him. "Luckily for you I have a spare mattress and a blow up mattress for when my friends stay over, follow" I say as they all stand up. I lead them to my spare room that had a queen bed and a queen mattress, despite these mattresses being STRICTLY for my friends I'm sure they wouldn't mind a few hot guys sleeping in them. "If someone doesn't want to snuggle then the sofa is an option" I say opening the door to the spare room "the blow up is underneath, its no luxury but crash where ever in the house that isn't my room" I say yawning scratching the top of my head. "I promise, you will wake up with more intel and whatever" I say "explore the apartment, end room is not to be walked in to" I continue and the all stare at me with blank faces except for Bucky who was grinning whilst licking his lips, god it was so hot (gif). "goodnight, dont let the bed bugs bite" I smile closing the door leaving all three grown up men in the room to fend for ourselves "she so handed it to you" Zemo

said "Shut it" Sam said as I laugh and walk off. Before I go to sleep, I usually go to grab a bottle of water to drink whenever I wake up in the middle of the night, so I exited my room and walked into the living area then the kitchen area to see Bucky on the sofa. "you got the shit show, how did the other guy get the blow up" I say grabbing two bottles of water out "I know right" he chuckles poking his head up looking towards me as I walked over handing him a bottle "thanks" he smiled. I sat on my coffee table staring at him as he sat up, "do I have anything to worry about" he asked and I shake my head "if you read my files you'd know i have the best gunman award in SHIELD and I'm a great double agent" I say cocking an eyebrow "for a 24 year old huh" he says and I nod "yup" I smile, the time was probably 1am and instead of going to bed I was talking to the man in my dreams. "how did you get these visions?" he asked "again Bucky if you read my files you'd know, SHIELD never told me that but they are random or thats what I was told" I mumble "any other questions war boy?" I say standing up "do you get nightmares, like do you see what I dream about?" he asked. I had remembered the time in his apartment where he was dreaming about him, the winter soldier. He had woke up in a sweat before turning on the TV to see the news of the fraud Captain America. "a few times" I said "but if you were going to ask me if i hate you for it, to put it easy, I don't" I shrug "I don't know why, but, I'd rather know than not and it doesn't scare me" I smile as he smiles back. This was the first time I had seen him smile, ever. It was a very bright smile to say the least, it was beautiful. "uh if you need me, i'll be in my room" I smile as he nods "goodnight" he whispers and I wave him goodbye. part 2: man in my dreams (PT2)

63 notes · View notes

mcmansionhell · 3 years

Text

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response.

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car.

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake.

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

“Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light.

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house.

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers.

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.”

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.”

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that.

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging.

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic.

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.”

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs.

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better.

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.

If you like this post, and want to see more like it, consider supporting me on Patreon!

There is a whole new slate of Patreon rewards, including: good house of the month, an exclusive Discord server, weekly drawings, monthly livestreams, a reading group, free merch at certain tiers and more!

Not into recurring donations but still want to show support? Consider the tip jar!

Or, Check out the McMansion Hell Store! Proceeds from the store help protect great buildings from the wrecking ball.

#architecture #design #fiction #las vegas #underground house

1K notes · View notes

catfuyus · 2 years

Text

Sit Next To Me | ft. Chifuyu

Summary: You’re the shy, new kid in school struggling to fit in. There’s something about your nerdy demeanor and studious nature that makes Chifuyu reach out to you

Tags: Fluff, warning for foul language

A/N: it’s super cliche sorry lol but I had trouble getting anything out with this writers block

It’s a noisy class full of hormone riddled kids still learning how to count to ten and breathe at the same time. An eraser flies past you and you think nothing of it, ignoring the chaos around you and shifting through the ocean of people to find a single empty chair in the back of the room. You wouldn’t even be in this class if you hadn’t transferred in the middle of the semester. The people at the front office lost your transcript and now you’re stuck in here with the dumb kids, soon to be drop outs, and the idiots that got held back. The teacher hasn’t even shown up yet ten minutes into class. You do the one thing a kid like that shouldn’t do in a room full flunkees, and that’s pull out a book to pass the time.

Not even a paragraph into the Odyssey and some punk is leaning over the back of his chair to size you up. You don’t look up from the page, though the looming presence of his gaze interrupts your reading.

“Hey, you got something on your face,” he snickers. As you look up he grabs the back of your head and tries to force his way into a kiss.

Shocked, you shove him off and send him crashing down into two other desks, effectively pissing off two more people in doing so. The boys on your other side take the opportunity to flip your skirt while your back is turned, and suddenly you’re fuming and angry. Fists clenched with pissed off opportunists all around you.

“Fuck. Off!” Before you even realize, the boy that tried to kiss you goes flying to the right with a swift punch to the back of his head. The boys that flipped your skirt are quickly on their knees from getting punched in the gut. The other two scurry away in fear.

“Hey, you okay?” His voice is calm and not at all strained from attacking the other students.

You blink at him. A little unsure. He looked even tougher than the delinquents that were picking on you. With his dyed blonde hair pulled into a Mohawk, piercings and baggy uniform. “Uh,” you stammered, “yeah. I’m okay.”

“Good,” he smiled, clear blue eyes locking on yours. “Why don’t you come sit next to me? I’ll keep these assholes off you.”

He introduced himself as Matsuno Chifuyu. You followed him back to his seat, surprisingly in the front row, as he shoved someone else off their seat to make room for you.

Even when the teacher appears to give his mandatory lecture, the class doesn’t settle down. Everyone talking and shouting around him. But Chifuyu pulls out his notebook and takes diligent notes. The lecture seemingly happening only for him.

“Hey, Chifuyu,” you whisper out of habit, regardless of everyone talking around you.

He hmms in question without looking up, still focused on the lecture in front of him.

“Why are you paying so much attention?” You almost want to laugh at your own stupid question, but it felt valid. There was no way anyone could learn like this. And why would he want to?

“I’m actually sitting in for my friend this week. He’s out with a cold and honestly,” Chifuyu turned to smile at you, so heartwarmingly sweet and honest it brought a light flush to your face, “he needs all the help he can get.”

You smiled back at him then, hoping he wouldn’t notice the subtle racing of your heart. “I want to help too, what can I do?”

“Actually, are you any good at spelling?” He leaned over the side of his desk to rummage through his bag, pulling out a few loose papers marked in red with terrible handwriting.

“Yeah, pretty decent.”

“Decent’s better than shit,” he laughed.

He handed you a stack of graded papers where his friend has misspelled a million things and asked you to help make a list of the words he would need to practice. Having already learned the class’s lesson from before you moved to this school too, you took down a few extra tips for them in a study guide before handing everything back over to Chifuyu.

The day went by quickly and no one else harassed you. Any time someone got a little too close for comfort, Chifuyu would appear to scare them away. Going so far as to walk you to each of your classes. You reluctantly let him walk you home, since it seemed you two would be going the same way, and found yourself surprisingly eager to see him at school again.

And so began your unwitting friendship with a gang member.

©️bajisfist | please do not plagiarize, repost, or redistribute in any way without permission.

#tokyo revengers #chifuyu matsuno #tokrev chifuyu #chifuyu scenarios #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #chifuyu x you

123 notes · View notes

jiminrings · 3 years

Note

I REQUEST A SOFT BADBOY DRABBLE WITH SHY READER AND HES TEASING HER BUT SOMEONE ELSE JOIMS IN AND THEYRE DOING IT TO BE MEAN BUT HES LIKE STFU BEFORE I PUMCH UR FACE ONLY IM ALLOWED TO BULLY SHY READER GRR 😡😡😡😡 and soft readers like 0.o but *squeals incoherently* 😭😭😭😭

last name, jeon.

drabble week: day two

drabble week masterlist

pairing: badboy!jungkook x shy!reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: "can't you tell that i really don't want you to be here?"

notes: a tiny change on the plot!! also: frat boy!jimin from day four makes an appearance :D

feedback + support mean the world to me!!

“do you wanna form-“

... yes

you DO have an alliance with jungkook

it's a very fair trade honestly

he pretends to be your boyfriend!! there's no specific boundaries to it, but he springs into action as soon as you're put into an inconvenience

in exchange, you whore him out to your friends!!! :D

no but literally that's how he called it

the whole reason this came to be in the first place is because you hATE confrontation with a burning passion

especially when it comes to those "i have a crush on you" moments that people spring on you all of a sudden

you don't like them back!!! that's the truth!!! but the problem is that you aLWAYS feel guilty letting people down

you obviously don't have the obligation to like someone back just because you sit next to them in class :// IT'S JUST IN YOUR NATURE TO FEEL THAT WAY

you wouldn't get into a relationship with said confessor to ease your guilt, clearly

do you plan on denying their advances? yes

but hOW????

you always take the passive-aggressive approach

you get jungkook to carry your bag and hold your hand, walk in front of said person and pretend not to see them, jungkook makes sURE to put some snide eye contact in there aaaaand the whole ordeal is finished :D

you've managed to let someone down slowly without having to speak to them in-person!!!

jungkook comes more handy than that too

you take him when you want to eat out because you're too anxious to eat alone

you take him when you want to go somewhere in which lining up is essential and you're also too anxious to stand by yourself

you take him when you want to go shopping when there's a sale but you're almost always intimidated by the barrage of people and salespeople so he asks and answers the questions for you

jungkook, in hindsight, is the perfect fake boyfriend for you <3

ALSO jungkook wants something from you

"whore me out to the girls from the families your family's friends with, and it's a deal :D"

that alliance and exchange is going pretty well so far

you mAY be on the more-reserved side but that doesn't mean you're self-aware!!!

you know that your parents are loaded and your shy nature could be somehow chalked to that since you didn't really have anyone that wasn't as non-superficial as you'd like, since they were the overprotective helicopter two-rotor seven-blade parents :(((

jungkook, however, is the only constant you have in your formula

you've known him since childhood and have been friends ever since

his mom's your mom's personal assistant, and one day when mrs. jeon couldn't find a babysitter for jungkook, your mom didn't hesitate to let four-year old jungkook come with her to work

jungkook's your fIRST actual friend that hates gold spoons with you because of how tacky they look :-) he's your emotional support person basically

your emotional support person who was sO close to running late from picking you up during his free day >:( you were about to break into a sprint if he arrived a second later, because you managed to spot a jock coming to you from the corner of your eye awhile ago

You Do Not Like Him <3

"and i even changed into a short-sleeved shirt to ward off your suitors. how romantic of me, don't you think?"

now that he mentions it, it's only now when you can drink him in in full-display

... wow

his right arm's the only one with his tattoos while his left's completely blank, but something about the balance just makes you !!!!!!!! even more

his arm's not completely covered but it was coming to be, something about the blank spaces of skin that are yet to be inked being a nice touch

"very romantic, kook."

now tHAT'S the answer he wanted to hear

he forcibly on your helmet for you to showcase, your grunts of annoyance being drowned out by whistling

(he's even looking left and right and making eye contact with anyone who has their eyes landing on you!!!!)

your cheeks smushed is a look he'll never be tired being in awe of, but he'll never tell you that, of course

"do you ever wonder if your parents would kill me if i misplace even a single hair on you?" jungkook thinks out loud and you don't even flinch with how sudden his thoughts could be, sitting on his seat first so it'd already be balanced when you do, "you sure you’re okay riding with me?? on a motorcycle????"

he usually uses yOUR family's vehicles (they let him and insisted he just takes one at this point) but when you called him, he was en route to kim kradle (it's a one-stop vehicle shop apparently) to get new rims for his motorcycle, bUT NOT ANYMORE HE GUESSES????

you come first compared to the booking he's waited on for three weeks

"i have insurance, i think."

no that's the wrong answer

why did you even bother.,,.,

jungkook flicks your nose because your forehead's protected by the helmet, his face contorted in half faux frustration

"you were supposed to be mad at me for asking that — not logical!! don't even joke about that."

"... my life insurance? like, in the instance that i-"

oW THAT HURT

he flicked even harder this time!!!

you roll your eyes at him and it doesn't go unnoticed, a hand outstretching instead of his fingers flexing

“wallet, please.”

????

jungkook's surprised that you even look confused, this time rolling his eyes at you

“you rolled your eyes at me. you need to bribe me so i won’t rat you out.”

right

he has a never-ending knack for the you're rich jokes

you also know that he likes the cold and would turn the fan on even if it's too hot for a blanket, just because he wants to feel cocooned

you also know that he picks from the fourth row of drinks from the front because it's always been a habit

("the germs cling on to the first row!!!")

you also know that maybe, just maybe, you can't stand it tonight when he's putting himself out there instead of being your faux boyfriend

you keep on zoning out and hoseok, perhaps the only tolerable fellow rich kid you can tolerate within your circle, finally connects the dots in his head and snickers

he's been talking about finding the vintage sneakers he's always wanted on depop and how he almost got scammed for like tWENTY minutes already

in reality, all your nods and scowls aren't towards his story

it's to jungkook and... who's that? jihye whose dad is so colossally shitty, that this one rapper wrote a diss song for him? oh yeah, that jihye

"you like him. like actually 'lose your virginity to him' love him."

WHAT???

there's no way

"how did you-"

"you blush like one."

alright that answer was too quick

hoseok should've ATLEAST tried to wait for a few seconds before answering

"a-and the love part?"

"babe, jungkook may not be the richest one here and that should say a lot," you peer up at him nervously and he actually chuckles, peering to everyone at this function, "dude's humble — he could also just be dense to not see you love him."

okay very true

hobi's making a dig rn at how jungkook coinicidentaally happens to be blonde and maybe this is your cue to leave

hobi does not realize that his hair is aLSO dyed blonde while talking shit about jungkook and his hari

okay this is it

once again, you are NOT listening to hoseok and he's figured out what you're doing by now

you're psyching yourself up with a couple of shots and your heels are digging on the carpeted ballroom

MAYBE YOU SHOULD TRY TO BE MORE OUTGOING!!

"pretend to wobble. it doesn't help that nothing can sink you."

oh okay makes sense

if you're gonna try and charm jungkook while trying to play it off as just being tipsy playfulness, atleast make it believable

hoseok snickers because this is just A+ content with the things that you choose to do in your way

shy girl with high alcohol tolerance mannn coming of age film writers would LOVE you ://

you're about to cross the distance between you and jungkook, but something knocks you on your shoulder with a gentle force that seemed intentional

is that-

hold on a second

"what a coincidence :O"

jimin?

jimin???

as in, wholesome yet slightly fuckboy-ish frat guy jimin???

he looks dashing and composed, meeting your eyes perfectly and he doesn't let your confusion startle him

"i know that look. what am i doing here?"

he says it eloquently as if he's practiced it

AND HE DID!!!

you must've looked so shocked that you immediately apologized, shaking your head no

"i-i didn’t mean-..."

you're confused, sure, but that doesn't mean you're immediately judging

it's just that you never saw jimin here or any function of the like, but you wouldn't put it past him if he does go to these things!!! he looks like a million dollars anyways

"relax, doll. you’re so far the only other person i know that i've seen in these type of things."

he looks calm and collected, but maybe that's just because he spent the last five minutes waiting for you to stand so he could bump into you

this place is just sO suffocating and a familiar face is gonna be his relief from something so fancy that it became mundane

"have we been in the same event before this?"

"not that i recall, no. i get invited but this is only the first time after awhile that i went."

jimin drinks from his champagne flute, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, "wanna know why i'm here?"

you're curious!!! what can you say!!!!

you never really interacted with jimin at all before this, but a familiar face like his is comforting

because hoseok's already engaged in another conversation and jungkook's,,,, being jungkook and is fawning all over jihye

jimin chuckles at your insistent nodding, leaning closer to whisper to your ear

"my stepdad’s loaded as fuck."

oh so that's why

he tugs you down to sit at the nearest possible empty chairs, all its occupants gone anyways because they're in the dancefloor busting tRULY horrendous moves

maybe it's because jimin feels lonely too like you are, and it's him feeling comfortable because he's pulled you like ten seconds ago and not once asked him anything out of bounds

maybe that's why he fell into conversation with you easily because you're always intently listening

"might love me as a real son too. maybe that’s a bonus? you don’t really expect that shit in the things you see."

this situation is actually pretty cute

you snort because maybe you’re nOT that shy when you drink,, that’s the only thing that changes in you probably

this whole conversation that sprung from boredom was unknowingly the subject of many stares, including jungkook who you were initially supposed to go to

“you’re worthy of love, jimin.”

jimin sPITS his drink because where the fuck did THAT come from???

why did you say that and why does he feel that he needed to hear that

“i-i think — i think you need more,” he raises his own glass to your lips hurriedly, caught in surprise but you still gulp nonetheless

“you’re-“ you keep sputtering as he keeps making you drink, but he rubs circles on your back at the same time and it's when you realize that jimin the frat guy may not be that bad, “what??? don’t think you’re not the only one with daddy issues! shouldn’t we have like, a radar for each other?”

jimin snorts at your counter and his eyes crinkle to the point where he can't see anything, not being able to see how you're still trying to recover with all that fizz down your throat

wow ur really enjoyable to talk to

“you’re insane and i think-“

listen

you're not really big on feeling beyond a sense and all that stuff, but you feel as if the aura around you just got dark all of a sudden

"who are you calling insane?"

jungkook appears at your side in an instant, hands wrapped around your shoulders while you remain seated

you've honestly forgotten that you were supposed to go to jungkook, but you're reminded of that vERY clearly now

"go away, jimin," he mutters through his teeth, looking at him dead in the eye

hold on

wait

THAT'S JIMIN???

okay now he's confused

sometimes jungkook's mouth just moves on its own without loading the thought process

"why are YOU here?"

jimin furrows his brows, shocked that he'd even see jungkook here out of all people

the guy barely even attends classes!!! and that's coming from him!!

"why’s he here?"

he crouches to your ear, eyes still furrowed at the younger guy

"long story."

nO???

jungkook scowls bitterly because jesus fuck

YOU’RE ON WHISPERING TERMS NOW????

he left for one second, and the moment he comes back, that's when this fucking frat guy approaches you?? was he waiting on him to leave??

you and jungkook only act as a couple when the need arises, and even if you don't feel it, hE feels that this is the need!!! this is the need and it is arising!!!

"get back to uh, alpha bravo charlie or something, park. beat it."

why’s he reciting the nato phonetic alphabet???

jungkook sounds half-angry and half-sad at the same time, and you don't know which side should you focus on

“move,” he repeats this time again but more sternly, making jimin much more confused since jungkook's trying to pull him away from his seat

jimin doesn't budge and it makes the frown even more evident in jungkook's face

what is he FEELING

“can’t you tell that i really don’t want you to be here?”

“i’m not here for you, though. i’m here for y/n.”

he answers honestly, shis gut telling him that there's definitely something going on between the two of you

“y/n doesn’t want you here," kook argues back surely, only noticing your bitten lips now that makes him realize that you're not exactly sober; just a happy kind of rush

he sees you raise your hand timidly, an equally cheeky smile on your face that's only directed to jungkook like it's meant for him

"i-i actually don’t mind."

you don't,,,

you don't mind?

HOW'S THAT POSSIBLE

WHAT ARE YOU DOING

why aren't you signaling him to commence the faux boyfriend act!!

"y/n has a boyfriend."

“... i’m not hitting on her.”

alright this is more than the entertainment that jimin wished for lol

“yeah, well she has a boyfriend still so beat it.”

you do??

the last time you checked, jihye's gonna have jungkook as her boyfriend within the night!!

“i don-“

ALRIGHT THEN

jimin decides to indulge jungkook, knocking his knee with yours as he winks slyly, urging you silently to watch on, turning to look at you and ask

“what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

you don't answer.

that gives him all the more reason to do so.

“last name, jeon.”

jungkook looks the most determined you've ever seen him, eyes characteristically angry with his arms across his chest that his suit tightens, “first name, me.”

....

......

the three of you know that’s not the truth

jimin takes it in, sighing when he sense that something else is about to be unfold and he does noT want to be a part of it

not before whispering to your ear again for the last time, of course

“pretty weird name if you ask me,” you laugh automatically, momentarily forgetting that jungkook's standing by you on just your opposite side and could hear you

he leaves and that only leaves you with jungkook, looking up at him as he's too frantic to even sit

“what are you doing?”

“being a social butterfly," you quip just as fast, drinking your water afterwards

jungkook only clenches his jaw by then, being taken-aback when you speak again

“who are you doing?”

://

“i’m busy being mad at- wait a minute, WHO???”

who instead of what??

the short-lived enthusiasm you had with jimin left with him, crashing just as hard when you're reminded of jungkook's presence

“jihye’s a pretty nice girl. you should go home early tonight.”

his brows furrow, trying to get you to look at him but you avoid his gaze insistently, “what? what are you talking about?”

“she’s not my girlfriend though.”

you're not at all satisfied with the answer because it sounds so wrong, knowing that jungkook's a handsome guy and everyone wants to be with him!!!

and he probably wants to be with everyone else besides you.

“then who-...”

“don’t know yourself anymore? jimin must’ve really swept you off your feet, huh?”

jungkook huffs as he qualifies for a rebutt, your internal wallowing being cut short

“he’s not my boyfriend.”

...

....

“well would you look at that,” jungkook snickers, sighing through his nose as your eyes finally meet his, directly stubborn yet soft around the edges

“she’s not my girlfriend, and he’s not your boyfriend. what a coincidence.”

god did he feel so threatened the moment his eyes couldn't find you besides hobi and instead next to jimin, eyes crinkled in laughter without hesitation

have you been chasing after one another this whole time?

jungkook silently grabs you by the hand and you wave no opposition to it

maybe it's your liquor-influenced vision or maybe it's you hyperfixating on such a warm moment, but your eyes immediately lock to see the matching red thread bracelet he wore like yours

you're dressed in next year's spring collection line, and the structured silk black gown that has a train behind it doesn't exactly scream to have a simple red thread bracelet as its accessory according to your mom's designer and everyone else —

but you don't have the heart to take it off

there's no need to take it off

jungkook drives your car and no one says a single thing about anything

his hand’s on your thigh and you don’t question it, eyes locking into the way his hand looks perfect and the way the bracelet looks meant to be wrapped in his wrist in the first place

you're sure this time that it's not the newfound courage you have, but rather the need to do it

you kiss jungkook's cheek on a red light.

it's on a red light that jungkook realizes he could fit the visage of his world within one hand, finally kissing you like he's always wanted to

“yeah. what a coincidence.”

#drabble week #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook headcanons #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook oneshots

605 notes · View notes

bearriebelliejam · 3 years

Text

"Hit One Where One Lives"

Summary ↳ Atsumu has had feelings for you since the day you've met, and he's always had trouble controlling his urges.

Words ↳ 1,566

Tags ↳ 18+, NSFW, characters above legal age, descriptions of NSFW fantasies, no actual fucking, atsumu is horny, mentions of high school days, angst but only like a couple sentences

A/N ↳ ahh I'm so sorry this is short and got cut off, but if you guys like it and want more please lmk!!

hit one where one lives

hit (one) where (one) lives

To affect one on a personal or intimate level.

People by nature only care about an issue if it hits them where they live.

Atsumu Miya was good at a lot of things.

Setting, spiking, serving, receiving, and bargaining for discounts on fatty tuna.

But one thing that Atsumu could never, ever bring himself to perfect was the art of conveying his feelings properly. It was something Osamu had confronted him about during their early high school years, recognizing his twin’s coping mechanism to protect him from his own self-destructive thoughts. A strained smile and bottles of bright yellow hair dye could only do so much for the rather eccentric Miya twin, something his brother had warned him would lead to burnout by his early 20’s. Atsumu, at the time, would only laugh it off, claiming that his inquisitive behavior was more stalkerish than affectionate.

This was until Atsumu had cost Inarazaki their spot in the nationals during his first year. He had never considered himself to be someone with butter fingers, in fact, he prided himself in his setting skill. Too much sometimes. Atsumu’s scalp felt raw from how his fingers dug into his hair, pulling at the obnoxiously dyed strands as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. It felt juvenile. He was in high school now, he had no reason to be mourning over such a stupid mistake.

Atsumu flinched lightly when the cool condensation of a plastic water bottle hit his calf, feeling the Air Conditioning in the now almost empty stadium blowing against the wet spot on his leg. Maybe he was dreaming, he thought, looking into the slightly glossy eyes that bore back into his. Yep, definitely dreaming. Little did he know those eyes would be the focus of his J/O sessions for the rest of his life.

His breath caught in his throat as your rosy cheeks swelled with your smile, although empathetic. It was too much of a foreign feeling to him. You were just doing your job, being the one and the only manager of a team as arduous as Inaraziki- in the same grade as him, no less- meaning that you had to sniff out each and every demanding member. Atsumu didn’t think he could ever forget how you sat next to him that day, softly rubbing the area between his shoulder blades and whispering soft words of encouragement as you helped him pop the lid on his bottle. You admitted to him about how even though you barely knew shit about volleyball, you could tell from the way his teammates and captain regarded him after the match that it wasn’t his fault. That night, after walking you home and waving you off down your driveway, Atsumu felt a foreign feeling rising in his chest.

This feeling would only continue to grow over the next four years.

Whether it be the way you had to clutch your knees every time he made you laugh too hard, the way you’d sneak a pudding to him during the mornings where your classes lined up, or the way that you’d both pull some sort of immature prank on his disgruntled brother. It was safe to say that you two were super close. But not in the way that Atsumu wanted you to be. Alongside every little detail that made you a great friend, there were way too many details that made you desirable. That time during the summer when it got so hot that you stripped yourself of your short sleeve for a tank top that accentuated every one of your curves still keeps him up at night. Not to mention the form-fitting elastic shorts that hugged your ass so right that even the newbies on the team couldn’t help themselves from trying to sneak a peak.

This would continue up until graduation, where Atsumu opened the door to your very teary-eyed and very emotional-looking self. Your eyes were brimming with tears, and he didn’t think those delectable swollen cheeks of yours could puff out any more than they already were. With shaky hands, you lifted the slightly crumpled piece of paper up to your chest. The thick black letters of ‘MSBY’ must have grown fists and hit him in the gut because before he knew it, he was lifting you a foot off the ground with an enthusiastic spin.

Fluffy white cotton surrounded Atsumu’s vision as he dried his hair from the shower, letting out a long sigh of relief at the feeling of his muscles relaxing after such a long practice session. It was the off-season, and the MSBY Black Jackals were taking the time off doing what they always did. Play volleyball. Obviously not to the extent as they would during the actual season, but every moment spent not doing something productive was a second basically submitting victory to the other team. That’s how Bokuto put it at least, before ultimately spraining his wrist from going too hard on the dumbbells. Safe to say both Coach and Akaashi were not happy.

“Hey, Omi-om, you should totally let me borrow that body spray you got.” Atsumu didn’t typically wear any sort of cologne, but the way you had him bend down to your level to smell his shirt collar after Kiyoomi’s scent wafted onto him was the result of a long sleepless night for him.

“Get your own, Miya.” Kiyoomi scoffed, rolling his eyes as he threw on his MSBY brand sweater. Atsumu pouted, quickly forgetting about every single one of his surroundings as he saw his phone light up with your contact name, your photo staring back at him expectantly. He had taken the photo when you had dragged him to the mall with you once, having slid a 20-yen coin into the slot of a mechanical bull riding machine. He had found it amusing at first, the way you had desperately grasped at the horns of the animal as it began to speed up, but his laughter was caught short. His eyes had trailed down your back that was arched suggestively off the saddle, hips moving with the steady bucking of the machine-

“Shit-” Snapping himself out of his erotic memory, he quickly clicked the green ‘answer call’ button. “Hello?” “Atsumu, are you almost done getting ready yet?” Your voice alone was enough to ease the tension building inside of him, shoulders relaxing as he let out a low chuckle.

“Why, missing my pretty face?” He could at least acknowledge that he only flirted with you to try and ease the urges growing inside him, he wasn’t that stupid. It was also partially because of the way the tips of your ears would redden at his sly comments, but you would always brush it off as being part of his play-boy-like personality. If only you knew how much he wanted to change that.

“I’m missing that your pretty face isn’t hurrying the hell up and getting in my goddamn car.” The teasing lilt to your voice did nothing to prevent the way his chest swelled when you called him pretty, a stupid, joyous smile spreading on his lips.

“Alright, alright, hold your horses. I’ll be right out.” You blew a raspberry into your phone, Atsumu giving one of his own before hanging up and grabbing his gym bag.

Nudging open the locker room door with his side, Atsumu had to force his dick from twitching in his shorts as he witnessed the sight in front of him. You were bent over the reception desk of the college gym, talking to the lady behind the desk as you fiddled with the heel of your stiletto. His eyes traced the way the fabric of your skirt hugged down your thighs. You really had no idea what you were doing to him. Discreetly making his way up behind you he shot the desk lady a wink with a finger over his lips, receiving a gulp and small nod from her before turning back to you.

“And that’s when I told Coach, we need to stop letting Bokuto near the equipment when he’s having one of his emo-” A dramatic squeal ended up finishing your little rant as Atsumu’s muscled arms hooked under your shoulders and yanked you off the floor. In the midst of your flailing, you caught a glimpse of bleached blonde hair in your peripherals. “Atsumu Miya set me down this instant!” Although your face was contorted in frustration, the laughter that slipped between your words disclosed your amusement.

The specific position that Atsumu had you in reminded him of one of the fantasies he had of you once. Your breath hot against his cheek as he plowed into you from behind, strong hands caressing the bulge that appeared in your stomach whenever he bottomed out. He would feel the sweaty slap of your ass against his pelvis with every harsh thrust, cries escaping your lips at the feeling.

“Atsumu?” You looked over your shoulder at the athlete in confusion. Realizing that he had spaced out, Atsumu mentally slapped himself as he smirked and set you down. “Sorry, sweetheart, got lost in thought.” He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to act casual, which was not missed by the reception lady as she grabbed her jacket and left the office, clearly sick of the flirting. A familiar smile spread across your cheeks, ears tinting in the way that made his cock twitch in his shorts, this time failing to conceal it. “Your place tonight, right?”

“You know it.” You giggled. This was going to be a long night for him.

dm/send an ask to be added to my @ list!! currently empty <3

178 notes · View notes

alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

(un)loving miya atsumu

fourteen.

loving miya atsumu

Dear Atsumu,

I hate how much your face is the first thing that comes to mind when I think about the word - ‘happiness’ and ‘love’. Happiness, because it radiates off your bones, no matter the situation, in court when up against strong opponents, thwarting plays with a setter dump or when you’re up serving, or when pulling off nasty quicks with your brother or any other player, off court when you fight with Osamu over the last ice cream at the convenience store, when you share a stupid joke with your dad, or even when you’re with the people you care about. Love, because you do everything with just the right to too much amount of love, pouring your everything in it, pouring your heart in the things that make you happy may it be volleyball, Osamu, your family, Mika- not a single wasted opportunity to convey your love and happiness. Nobody compares the way you do.

You’ve set a standard for almost everything, which is why you expect nothing for the best to be at the receiving end of both happiness and love.

I hope you know that to me; you are the embodiment of both happiness and love. Because I really hate how you remain the embodiment of these two words I have difficulty expressing.

Your name literally translates to 'to devour' and in a sense, you are someone who happily, readily accepts love and happiness on a daily basis, allowing it to fill you up to the core and share it with everyone.

You are everything that is everything – the sun after a stormy day, the sunshine in my veins, the kiss of the wind against my skin, the light to my darkness, my sunflower. You are everything to me, and to you, I offer, my whole heart, which you don’t have to worry returning, because it’s yours. Always has been.

- (Y/N)’s letter, 1 out of 13

"MIKA!" launching yourself at your big sister, engulfing in a hug, the two of you laughed. Breaking away, you held your older sister an arm's length, taking her in. "You're home! You're here!" The excitement was evident in your tone, a bit of confusion as well, at the joyful arrival of your big sister.

"Just thought I'd surprise you!"

Frowning slightly, you ask again. "But how about school?"

"I'm on break!"

"Alexander and Pien?"

"The family's currently on vacation in Spain," sensing another question coming, she furthers. "the parents were the ones who arranged this trip, because they know it would mean the world to me and I would never want to miss my little sister's big day."

The grin on your face softened, engulfing your sister into a hug again. "I'm just so happy you're here,"

"Me, too."

Despite everything that went down, before anything else in the world, this was your sister – your best friend by design. After months apart, talking to her virtually for a year, having her in person was such a delight. Seeing her home was probably the best graduation gift you could ask more.

Swaying into your hug, relishing in the feeling of her touch, Mika slowly opens her eyes, seeing the twins, finally remembering that they weren't alone.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry!" dropping the hug, she turns to the twins. "Atsumu, Osamu, hello!"

"Welcome back, Mika-nee," says Osamu.

"H-Hey Mika-nee," Atsumu stutters.

Something unsettled in your belly, coming at a screeching halt at the reunion. You could feel Osamu's eyes on you. Balling your hands into fists, you swallowed that ugly feeling, wearing a smile on.

"Shall we head inside?" Nobody seemed to notice the slight crack in your voice, which you were thankful for. Lowering your head, your eyes easily found your graduation pin, a reminder.

Atsumu, however, seemed out of it. Even in the presence of his first love, he didn't seem the least happy to see her. In fact, he almost looked, dare you say, troubled.

While the three of you were taking off your shoes, the house filled with joyous noises from both families, you turned to the blond-dyed teen worriedly.

"Atsumu, are you alright?"

Is he alright? How was he supposed to feel? Mika was right there! Mika, the person he's been in love with since he was 9. Love, right? She's always been his standard, the perfect girl for some just as perfect as him. Boyfriend be damned. Mika was there. Mika was here. Shouldn't he be happy?

"Atsumu?" At the sound of your voice, he worked on a feeble smile, worrying you even more.

Snapping out of it, he quirks his lips up. Before you can say another word, his grandparents come barrelling down the hall to greet you three.

Atsumu's smile was worrying.

"How I've missed Japanese food!" Mika gushes at the table, eyes bright at the food on display – especially at the seafood, care of your uncle (of course).

Laughing, the twins' father turns to her. "What's wrong with Dutch food, Mika-chan?"

Aside from sushi, there was an assortment of dishes like tempura, sauteed vegetables, salad, grilled meat, roast beef and chicken, and two cakes. With a feast like this, calling for the occasion, it was enough to water anyone’s mouth.

"It's alright, but kinda bland." they laugh at that.

You sat next to your sister, Kaoru on your other side. Across you sat the twins, Atsumu directly in front of you. Catching his eye, he quirked his lips up – smile seeming forced.

Your mom was all smiles, lifting her glass up. “Well now, let’s make a toast to our graduates!”

"To our bright and wonderful children!” your uncle seconds, joyfully, loudly. “To Atsumu, Osamu, and (Y/N)! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Everyone was clinking their glasses against each other before digging in.

The adults were usually doing the talking, exchanging pleasantries about this and that, while the youngins were on a world of their own. It only made sense why the (extended) table was divided into two – young and old.

Lifting his gaze, Atsumu could see you chatting up with his grandparents, a pleasing and polite smile on your face. As his grandma was sharing about her newest hobby, you were wiping Kaoru’s face clean, much to the younger boy’s displeasure.

“Atsumu, I hear you’ve been scouted by a pro-league?”

Suddenly called by Mika, he was suddenly on the spot. Normally, he would preen, just to keep those bright (e/c) eyes on him. When in truth, he wants another pair of eyes on him.

“Oh, uh…yeah, that’s right.”

“Pfft, what kinda energy is that?” booms his dad’s voice, ringing throughout the room. “Give it more life, Atsumu!” Beside him, his mom pats her husband’s arm, smiling per usual, but had a loving look in her eyes.

“What team are you joining?”

“MSBY Black Jackals,” he replies, staring at his plate. “they’re based in Osaka.”

Atsumu still remembers the day you approached him, shared with him how a scout agent had approached you first, then asked for Atsumu’s contact information. He was so over the moon after you told him that.

“Oh! So it’s close by!”

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice, you don’t have to worry about university and just continue doing what you do best. I’m jealous.”

Atsumu works on a faint smile, happy to hear it.

You watched the whole exchange from the corner of your eye, taking a bite of sushi before washing it down with soda, swallowing down the lump in your throat as well.

“Nee-san,” something pat at the corners of your mouth, Kaoru grinning. “your mouth was messy!”

Smiling, you could only pat his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Kaoru.”

“And how about (Y/N)-chan?” the Miya’s grandmother asked you suddenly, bringing the attention to you.

Now at the center of attention, you set down your plate. “Um…I’ll be studying at Hiroshima University.”

“Hiroshima! That’s four hours away from here?” whines the twins’ mom, to which your uncle and mom shrugs easily.

“Well, it was her decision.”

“Waseda was also in her list, but she opted for Hiroshima University.”

Nearly choking on his drink, the twins’ father turns to you. “Wa-Waseda!?”

“Dad, calm down!” Atsumu berates, embarrassed. Beside him, Osamu just helps himself to another serving, handing his grandfather another, too.

“Don’t underestimate Waseda, Atsumu! That’s one of the most prestigious schools in Japan!”

Atsumu knows that very well, because you told them about it. Just that…

“Well, she didn’t pass.” Huffs your uncle, but goes on to explain rather excitedly. “So she went for the next big thing – Hiroshima University!”

“Dad, didn’t we already tell you this?” Osamu frowns, rice sticking to his cheek. “We also told you she passed the exams.”

Their dad deflated at that, scratching at his cheek. “A-Ah, eh…you know your old man, he’s getting old and his memory’s failing him.” Everyone in the table laughs, even young Kaoru!

“Still, Hiroshima’s a long way from here, (Y/N)-chan,” their grandfather turns to you. “Why not join Osamu at Kobe University? Or Atsumu in Osaka at Kansai University?”

Shrugging, you reached over to refill his glass. “I wanted a change of pace, I guess. Also,” sitting back, you brushed strands of hair behind your ear, exposing your conch piercing. “I had a bit of epiphany when we had our class excursion there.”

The adults smile at your words, Mika, most especially.

“Well, I know you’ll do well there which is why we want you to have this,” from his pocket, the twins’ grandfather produced three envelopes – for you, Osamu, and Atsumu. To say that the three of you were shocked would be an understatement. “Here,”

Ever so carefully, the three of you took the envelope with both hands.

“Go on, open it!” says their mom excitedly, recording with their phone.

“OH MY GOD MOM, YOU’RE EMBARRASSING US!”

“Open, open!” their grandmother clapped her hands excitedly, sharing the same sweet smile as her husband.

Glancing at each other, the three of you seemed to share the same idea.

“On three?”

Nod.

“One,”

“Two,”

“Three!”

Outside the window, the wind blew, sending a draft it in (L/N) household. One glance and you were greeted by a world painted in pink hues, blushes of nature come in falling petals – spring has come alright.

In your subdivision, there was only one cherry blossom tree that was planted in the playground just behind your house. At the epicentre of your neighbourhood, like a heartbeat that connected each household to its beating. When spring comes, it blooms, shedding off its petals, scattering against the wind everywhere – for everyone to see.

A chance to bring spring into their homes, to enjoy moments like these without having to worry about leaving. Like a hanami at home.

“Ohhh.”

“…we got money.”

“Granny, Gramps, thank you so much!”

“Use the money wisely now!”

“I’m jealous,” Mika tells you, watching the twins. “you three got to share moments like these, have been for years. But now,” her smile falters a bit. “you’re off on your separate ways. Will you be okay?”

Your big sister will always be your best friend, one deigned to you since you were born and because of blood. But having friends of your own was another story, especially worth noting just how quiet you can be, which is why when they moved to Hyogo and were introduced to the twins, it made her feel settled. The three of you were inseparable, always together, a bond she envied.

At this point in your life, there was no denying the consequences of growing up.

“We all have our own different dreams and ambitions, so it’s only normal that we chase after it.” Taking a sip of your drink, your eyes catch on Osamu. “Osamu’s not as ambitious as his brother, but he’s just as competitive – especially when it comes to his future and happiness.”

“True, but a shame that he’s not going pro like his brother, they would be such a team!”

It would, years of watching them grow together was enough of a testament. The most powerful twins in volleyball.

“They’ll always have volleyball and each other. But when it comes to happiness, that’s another story.” Recalling Osamu’s soft gaze on the finished onigiri he made, the tale he shared afterwards. “Osamu’s happiness in with cooking and food.”

Humming, Mika takes her own drink, sipping in.

“And the thing with Atsumu is that’s he’s always looking forward, never once settling on the past knowing that it will hold him back. In fact, he’s always looking ahead that he tends to forget what he’s doing in present time.”

“It sounds like he’s taken to heart your club motto, huh? ‘We don’t need memories’.”

It was such a powerful motto – moving and inspiring all at once. From the moment your eyes saw Inarizaki’s banner when you were young to the moment you became manager, that motto has stuck with you the most. You love that motto, love its implication and even took it by heart.

“We can’t always be ruled by our past after all.” You set your drink down. “How else are we going to move forward?”

Atsumu stared at the ceiling before him, having given up tossing and turning for the past few hours. After the third hour, he threw in the towel – he was restless, unable to fall asleep from everything that’s happened today. It’s as though he found himself at an impasse – unsure of what he’s been holding on to, unable to comprehend how he should feel with everything going on.

Mika was home. Feelings he’s had for her…surfaced. He thinks. Atsumu broke into a sigh, sitting up, he was a mess.

Suddenly, he heard rummaging from below him, muted light glowing from below.

“’Samu?” he called out.

“Ah, shit.” Osamu craned his head, meeting his eyes. “Sorry, ‘Tsumu. Did I wake you?”

Shaking his head, Atsumu noted that Osamu was dressed up. “Where’re you headed?”

“Out.” He pockets his phone and wallet away.

“By yourself?” When his brother shakes his head, Atsumu shifts from his spot, asking again. “With whom?”

“…with (Y/N).”

Atsumu was silent for a while, coming to realization how Osamu sneaks out a lot in the past. It shouldn’t be a question and should be easy to tell who he usually hung out with late at night.

“Can I come?”

Osamu’s blinked at that. Atsumu waits, hopes. He watches as his brother looks at his phone, then back to his brother. Eventually, he exhales through his nose, wearing a half-smile as he nods slowly.

“Yeah, come on.”

Smiling, Atsumu feels excited as he gets down from his bunk and quickly changes. Following his brother's lead, ever so quietly the twins trudge out of the house, careful not to make any loud noises (which honestly, they shouldn't even bother for everyone in their family were heavy sleepers), door closing shut behind him. It amazed Atsumu how his brother does it all with practiced eased.

Spring evening was chilly, biting at his skin, nipping his nose. Good thing he thought of putting on his hoodie.

Together, the twins head out their house, bypassing their gate and turn, towards the (L/N) house next door where a figure waited.

Dressed in an oversized hoodie that stopped by your mid thighs, gazing up at the night sky in thought, in waiting.

"Yo, (Y/N)."

Lowering your head, (e/c) eyes widened slightly once realizing your best friend didn't come alone. At this, Atsumu raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey, (Y/N). Mind if I tag along?"

You shrug easily, standing to your full height. "Sure, why not."

Spring night was cool and crisp, biting almost – remnants from winter’s past.

Three teens walk along their quiet neighbourhood, cruising along houses for some few blocks until reaching a brightly lit establishment just next to the main road.

Upon entering the store, the cashier – a smiling, tired-looking woman, nods at Osamu and you, eyes shining in familiarity. A recurrence, it seems. Despite the wee hours of the night, the stillness of the silence, bright lights flooded the establishment with a multitude of goods lined up, budget meals prepped and ready, everything seemed liked a sight for any customer.

Following after Osamu, the two cruised through the aisles, his brother grabbing some chips and a seasonal onigiri, the twins nearly towering over. Reaching the end, he felt a chill, realizing he was by the frozen section, with you eyeing the selection with pursed lips.

"Aren't you full from all the food we ate earlier?" Atsumu laughs, standing next to you.

"Lest you forget, Osamu has a black hole for a stomach. I'm on my period, so I have cravings." Saying this, you stare at the selection of ice cream.

"How about curfew?" You were such a stickler for rules, this was so new to him.

Shrugging, you picked up strawberry and chocolate brownie. "Osamu and I sometimes pass off as adults. Plus, this neighborhood tends to be complacent when it comes to curfew."

He smirks. "So you're using that to your advantage, huh? Smart girl."

Your only reply was bumping your shoulder against his, putting the strawberry ice cream in his hands. Which he decidedly takes.

Over your meals, the three of you share laugh, meals, and talks. Unable to help himself, and taking a page from his mother, Atsumu takes a selfie to commemorate the moment, uploading instantly to his social media.

To any other bystander – or whoever sees Atsumu’s selfie, it was nothing more than a teenage hang out with your childhood friend and brother. Rather picturesque of perfect innocence, measured smiles, occasional banter highlighted only by the lights of the sleepy convenience store, saturated by the spring evening.

A moment that sent a lurch down each of your hearts at the knowledge that moments like these were numbered. Caught up in the moment, Atsumu desperately wished for time to freeze, wishing his life was always like this.

Nostalgia filled the night, between childhood friends – like that year of silence meant nothing. It was enough to choke Atsumu, bring him to tears with how much he's missed this. Memories from his past painted into his present with bright hues and ink, he wanted them to stay, etched on his skin - unready to have them washed away when the morning comings.

Late-night snacks ended up with the twins sneaking their game console to the (L/N)'s household, talks continue even as you three were playing video games until the wee hours of the morrow, filled with more talks that piled conversation over conversation, talking as though they had a clue – leaving you all breaking into fits of silly laughter.

Just as you landed second in Mario Kart, Osamu conked out first.

"I swear, he sleeps like a fucking log," Atsumu says, watching you carefully set Osamu's head on your lap, patting his head gently.

Smiling softly, you carefully take the blanket you snuck and tucked him in, and yourself, too. Atsumu stood to turn off the console and the TV, filling the room in darkness. However, the glow from the moon outside was enough to illuminate the living room.

"You'll be heading off to Hiroshima, right?" he whispers, reaffirming the question thrown to you earlier that day, you nod. "Wow,” sitting next to you, on the edge of the sofa, he settles in. “big step."

"I figured that I'd like to open my horizon, have a new pace."

Atsumu remembered the peaceful look on your face when they had their class excursion there, smiling at the memory and a bit on the history of the city.

"Like a fresh new beginning, huh?"

Nodding, eyes beginning to droop, Atsumu carefully brings your head to his chest, falling back. "Like you...you'll be off to Osaka...for MSBY Black Jack'ls" you slur. "Osamu's staying here..."

Humming, he brushes away hair from your face, listening to your voice against Osamu's snores.

"You seem t'be doin' fine," he almost laughs at how thick your Kansai was when you were on the brink of sleep. "'ve always been." Taking an inhale, through your exhale you say, "you don't need me, Atsumu, you never have." and then you slipped off to sleep.

How he envied the friendship you had with Osamu, the one thing that connected you both in the first place. Taking your left hand in his, fingers slotting together, scarred fingers touching against each other, he noses at your forehead, lips a hairsbreadth away from your skin.

“Oh, you have no idea just how wrong you are, (Y/N).” lips pressed the lightest kiss, the moon and the stars as his witness. “I’ll always need you.”

You must've heard him in your sleep, because you were smiling, adorably. It was the last sight he saw before Atsumu slipped off, as well.

Dawn broke out slowly, as it always did in Hyogo, light streaming, searching almost for signs of life in the living room. With the sun slowly making its way up, light follows upwards, eventually finding three bodies knocked out in the living room - sleeping rather awkwardly with two boys sandwiching a girl, peaceful, lost in silence. Somewhat, it was a familiar sight.

Waking up to the smell of breakfast, Atsumu woke with a start, blinking wearily as he took in his surroundings. Right, he snuck out with Osamu and stayed over at the (L/N)’s.

Lifting his head, a ghost of a smile found its way on his face when a mop of (h/c) came to view, your hand still in his. Strands of hair littered your face, which he quickly swept away, causing you to stir.

"Good morning, sleepyheads!" a cheery voice greeted from the kitchen. "Hope you like pancakes!"

Fresh out of bed, with her hair in a messy bun with an apron on was Mika, she looked pretty, adorable even. Atsumu should've been happy by the sight of this, captivated even. But he felt nothing.

At the mention of pancakes, Osamu sleepily lifts his head, in alert, eyes still pinched close. Slowly, you rose from Atsumu’s chest, having used it as a pillow last night, rubbing at your eyes.

“Mornin’ (Y/N),” he laughs.

Blinking your eyes open, with the sight of Atsumu in front of you, between his legs, realizing your sleeping position from last night, instantly your face heated, darkened. “A-Atsumu! A-Ah…Um…G-Good morning…” folding his legs back, he did a stretch, Osamu slowly coming to beside you. “Did you sleep well? Does your neck hurt? Your back?”

Your concern was honestly adorable – like your morning self, it made his heart warm.

“No worries, I slept great!”

True to his word, the rest of the morning went swimmingly over heaps of pancake and another selfie.

“I fear you’ll be taking after your mother in that aspect.”

“Wow, selfie whore.”

“SHUT IT, ‘SAMU!”

After breakfast, the twins had to head back home, to greet their grandparents while you started packing. When lunch came, the twins were back – freshly changed and all. At the sight of them, your mom couldn’t help gushing that ‘it takes me back!’ to which your uncle laughed at heartily, welcoming the boys in before they both left for work.

“Oi, Kaoru what’re you doing?” Osamu asked, watching how as your brother stood on a dining chair he grabbed, pushed it against the wall as he reached up, tying something by the window.

Squinting, you asked. “Is…that a teru teru bozu?”

“Yep!” he smiled, letting the doll face outside, getting another balled-up doll from his pocket. “Nee-san’s birthday’s in a few days, don’t want it to rain then!”

“Kaoru, aren’t you a little too old for superstitions?”

“I’m only 13!”

“Yes, but there’s no scientific proof that they prevent rain from coming. Plus, it’s spring, it’s not so hot of a season for rain to fall.”

Miffed by your explanation, he turned, nearly toppling over had he not righted himself quickly. “You don’t know that, nee-san!” Kaoru hopped off the chair, pouting at you.

“Yeah, what the brother boy said!” Atsumu seconded.

“Better safe than sorry!”

You could only sip on your drink in reply, hiding the smile. Osamu gave you a funny look, amused.

“Plus, it has to be sunny on nee-san’s birthday! We’re going to-“ before Kaoru could finish, Mika appeared, slapping a hand on his mouth.

“Hey, how about I make us pasta for lunch?”

Instantly, Kaoru’s face brightened. “Yay, pasta!”

“By the way, (Y/N),” she calls to you. “Reiki’s coming over with the pizza you like that his friend makes, the spinach one and garlic shrimp?”

At the mention of the aforementioned pizzas, your lips quickly quirk up. It was so hard to find those specific flavors around Kobe, the last time you had them was probably before Mika left. Thankfully, Reiki, being the social butterfly that he was, knew a lot of people.

“Your boyfriend has my many thanks,”

Mika laughs, making you realize a little too late on the words that left your mouth. Sliding your eyes to Atsumu, you were surprised to find that he seemed relatively fine, cordial even.

When Reiki came with the pizzas later, pasta ready and waiting, you all feasted, but not before Atsumu insisted on a selfie with everyone.

“I swear, you’re turning to Ma and it’s scaring me,” Osamu tells his brother with a disgusted frown.

“Watch your mouth, ‘Samu that’s still our Ma!” Atsumu angrily bites off his pizza. “Is it so wrong to capture moments frozen in time!?”

“Wow, that was a rather poetic way of saying it,” you noted, nodding your thanks at Reiki would gave you two slices each of the pizzas.

“Come on now, let’s not fight!” Reiki says calmly, undeterred by the twins. “Let’s just eat, yeah?”

A long-distance relationship seemed to work fine for your sister and Reiki. Clearly, distance makes the heart fonder with how lovey-dovey they seemed. A peek over at Atsumu, and you’d half-expect him to go batshit crazy. But no. If anything, he seemed perfectly fine.

“Atsumu, do you have a minute?”

As Atsumu walked off with your sister, you could only watch, lips quirking into a smile. For some reason, you felt fine with that, too.

It was probably when they first moved to Hyogo that Atsumu’s eyes fell to Mika, the ever-smiling, ever-kind oldest daughter. There were plenty of reasons to like her: she was pleasant, polite, pretty, smart, athletic, and kind. For years, Atsumu has always set her as his standard for his ideal woman, even assured himself that he was at her level (which shouldn’t be so hard, thanks to his genetics).

For the first time in the forever, he thought of finally confessing to her his feelings, that chance that he’s waiting for so long.

And yet, as the two enter the backyard, the door sliding shut behind him, Atsumu turns to Mika, with a question that’s been burning on to the back of his head for a while now.

"Why did you do it?"

"Huh?" Mika looks up in surprise, letting go of the door handle.

"Why'd you to talk to him?" Atsumu felt his patience running thin, anger building.

Mika's perfect face falls into confusion, exposing the cracks underneath. This was clearly not what she intended to talk about, but Atsumu didn’t care, he was leading this conversation now. Honestly, it feels like he’s finally seeing her for who she really is – for the first time, the rosy lenses he had of her were torn away.

Him, being their dad.

Pressing her lips together, a fist to her mouth, contemplating on her response. "...I just...I wanted..."

"A connection?" he finishes for her, an educated guess.

Mika nodded. "He's still my dad, you know? I just thought...I could get to know him..."

"And that hurt (Y/N) in the process," Atsumu threw out, rather impatiently, almost accusingly. "did you know that?"

Pain crosses over her face, bleeding through from her eyes down to the upturn of her lips, hands fisting on her chest.

"Maybe you wanted a relationship with him,” shaking his head, he thinks of you “but not (Y/N)." Of all his memories with you, one where he's caught your eyes on their dad, feeling his stomach twist at the longing in your eyes, hurt him the most. You may have had your uncle, but having your own father was a different thing. You told him that Mika was studying psychology, he couldn’t help but think how ironic that was.

"I'm not perfect, Atsumu."

Atsumu scoffed. "Don't I know that?"

He was an older sibling himself. Older by five minutes, he was still regarded as the oldest, has as much responsibility despite that minute difference.

"Older siblings aren't perfect," Mika says. "We make mistakes, we hurt people, even our siblings." She very clearly wanted to discuss something else, something that clearly wasn’t this. But now that Atsumu’s taken control, she felt herself lose rights.

"Did you tell him about our graduation?"

Mika fell silent, mouth pulled into a line.

That was enough of an answer.

Atsumu tried to imagine how the young you must have felt, the horrors you had to face, to witness, how your young, impressionable mind just paused and came to a screeching halt, to a horrible realization of how fucked up everything was now - he could only feel immeasurable pain, choking him. When that happened, did it also take away the life and spark in your eyes? The joy of life?

He loved his dad very much, his dad was one of the best men in his life who always encouraged him and Osamu to pursue their dreams, always at the frontline for them, and loved his whole family. Had he done what your dad did, he would also feel just as crushed. What he did was inexcusable – to you, to Mika, to your brother, to your mom. Scums like him didn't deserve a second chance.

"I can't believe you did that."

Without waiting for her to reply, Atsumu walked back inside the house, back to where his brother and you were.

Late at night, you stare up at the ceiling, hugging ‘Inari’ – the fox plushie given to you by the trouble children – close to your chest. Mind filled with thoughts, just swimming over you.

Earlier, Atsumu had walked back in the house, the same worrying smile from a few days ago, eyes losing its usual luster. Yet, he assured you that it was nothing, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Mika then walked back in the house, all smiles – but even she had a weary looking smile. Before you could approach her, Reiki rushed to her side and the two scurried to the kitchen. Thankfully, Kaoru, hadn’t picked up on this, busy trying to beat his two nii-sans in Smash.

Shifting your head to the side, to where Mika’s bed was, your sister was dead to the world, deep in her slumber – peaceful and calm. Lifting yourself from your bed, covers dropping, ever so carefully you dropped your feet to the cold floor. Still hugging Inari, you walked away from your bed and to one of the boxes, staring at the contents – some books, stationary.

Bending down, you dig through, careful not to make a sound. From the box, you pulled out a wooden picture frame, hand painted blue, with sunflowers sticking on the top left, a few petals on the upper and lower. And in frame was the photo of the Inarizaki Volleyball Club. It was taken the moment everyone returned from Tokyo. Smiling fondly, fingers smoothed over the sunflowers, taking in everyone’s smiles.

At the center of the photo was you, sandwiched between Atsumu and Osamu, wearing wide grins. When your juniors handed you the frame, you were so sure you’d break out then and there. But it didn’t end there, because Coach Kurosu – tears spilling down his face, gave you his gift, too. Gently setting Inari down, frame sitting next to him, you plucked a small, thick, black cloth.

Sitting crossed legged, you opened it up, smiling at the familiar kanji of the club’s motto.

‘We Don’t Need Memories’

“Such a powerful statement,” you whisper into the silence.

Kita once shared that he wasn’t a fan of the motto – being a man brought by the small things, on how doing the minimum on a daily basis is already enough of an assurance for any needless worries. Yet, it fires him up when he’s up with his team mates.

Coach Kurosu also mentioned, overly fond of the motto, that nothing should ever hold you back from the challenges that life will hurl at you.

Smoothing over the smooth kanji characters, a wave of memories rushed over you – first stepping into the gym, applying as manager the same time the twins had their try-outs, introducing yourself as manager before the twins engulfed you into a hug, seeing Aran again, meeting Kita and the rest of your seniors, meeting Suna, Ginjima, and the rest of the team, being there when the twins got their jerseys, their first official match, making your way to nationals, the twins debuting their dyed hairs, the incident, Kita’s captaincy, him berating you for resigning and convincing you to stay, the painful and cold second year, walking out during preliminaries, breaking down in the club room, having to tell Atsumu he was chosen for the Youth Camp, meeting Sho-chan at nationals, resigning only to be brought back, arcades with the trouble children, sunflowers given by the juniors on your birthday, training in Asano and Yoshimichi, training the new recruits, warmer days in the club, nationals with with Sho-chan, smacking Atsumu in the face, the retirement and turning over, graduation – so many great memories, good and bad. They were definitely the time of your life, if not, the greatest. A chapter that’s come to a close, but filled with so many turning points.

Patting the banner affectionately, a single tear slips down your face, landing on the banner, what a deep tangent you’ve found yourself in.

March 23, your birthday.

It fell on a Sunday, on a perfect sun shiny day, just as your family had expected.

On your birthday, it was decided that it would be spent at Sunflower Hill Park at Ono. Seeing as it was a special day, everyone had to dress their best – you included, being the birthday girl. Mika immediately busied herself prettying you up, even getting you to finally wear the dress that Kita had gifted you sometime back. It’s been gathering dust in the closet since he gave it, unsure on when to wear it.

“It’s just my birthday,” you grumbled, Mika immediately shushing you busily brushing your hair aside to work on your eyes, her face pinched into concentration.

“It’s not ‘just your birthday’, (Y/N).” she says, lighting brushing over your eyes. Setting down her eyeshadow palette, she picks up a blush set, instructing you to smile, exposing your dimples.

“19,” you say aloud, announcing to the world freely. “I’m at the peak of my adulthood.”

“You know, you’ve always been an adult all your life.” Mika teases, brush circling your dimples. “But that doesn’t mean you should be down on your birthday.”

“Studies show that it’s only natural to have birthday disappointments the older you get.” You rebuke, watching her frown cutely, setting her blush down, brandishing a mascara in her hand.

“And studies also show that you don’t always have to have that kind of mindset,” she rebukes back, twirling her mascara madly before taking out the wand. “Open your eyes and look up.”

Gulping, you do as she says, feeling the wand passing down your lashes.

“Birthday disappointments can also be stemmed from high expectations – either from childhood or from adolescence. And here’s the hard truth: you actually want to celebrate your birthday, but you just don’t know how to tell people.”

Capping her mascara, she instructs you to close your eyes, which you do, before you’re assaulted with a mist-like spray all over your face. When she tells you to open, you find yourself staring at yourself in the mirror – struck at the person staring back at you. Mika did a great job, highlighting your features, brightening your whole face, it was easy to see now the resemblance between you two.

“We’re not mind readers, (Y/N), we’re your family. And because we love you, we want to celebrate the day you came to bless our lives,” Mika smiles, smoothing your hair.

Helping you put on your dress, even lending you her sandals, she added some finishing touches like earrings and a sun brim hat.

“I look like those stereotypical animes shown in the summer.” You comment about your reflection in the mirror, to which Mika rolls her eyes at.

“Would you stop, you look beautiful!”

Taking her words with a grain of salt – seeing how pretty she was in her own dress, you smiled and the two of you walk out the room.

“Are you two done, now- Ah, how pretty!” coos your mother, pressing her hands to her mouth, eyes watering.

“Mom, you’re being dramatic-“

“My girls are so pretty! Especially the birthday girl!”

Beside you, Mika looks pleased with herself, especially at her work.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” says your mom, taking your face in her hands, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

Swallowing down hard, fighting off tears that have strangely formed, you smile at her. “Thanks mom.”

“Alright, let’s go down now! Everyone’s waiting for us!”

Anxiety rose up, heart in your chest as you three descended the stairs, where you could hear people chatting about in the living room. Everyone was there – your uncle, Kaoru, Reiki, the Miyas, even the twins. It was Atsumu who saw you first, doing a double take, taking you in.

And then his mom squealed at the sight of you. “Ah!!!!! (Y/N)-chan, you look so pretty!” everyone turns to you, much to your horror. “Happy birthday, sweet girl!” she says.

“…thank you, Auntie.” Your voice was quiet, raspy.

Being the center of attention, everyone’s smiles on you was unnerving.

Self-consciously, you duck under their gazes, face burning.

To your surprise, your family had long planned this together with the Miyas. What made it extra special was the fact that it was just days after the three of you graduated and of Mika’s return. An outing of two families, in a field of little suns spread across the field.

At the sight of tall, bright yellow and brown flowers, your eyes sparkled in child-like wonder. Sensing your excitement, Mika, with her uncle’s camera slung around her neck, hooked her arm around yours, giggling and pulling you further in the park, leaving Atsumu and the rest to follow after.

The adults were discussing amongst themselves, discussing where they should set up, Reiki happily stuck around them, ever ready to help around, while Kaoru was running off to join his sisters. Alone with his brother, Osamu elbows him.

"Is something wrong with you and Mika-nee?" Osamu asks him, feeling the breeze against his skin.

On the way to Ono, with the twins, you, Mika, and Reiki, in Reiki’s car, there was a noticeable avoidance between Atsumu and Mika. However, the two easily played it off. Mika was busy chatting up with her boyfriend, Atsumu looked over your shoulder, as you answered birthday greetings.

Even way before that, the two of them were masterful in their way of seeming fine, but when they interacted, it felt rather stiff.

Sighing, Atsumu’s eyes found Kaoru, who was giggling as Mika was getting you to pose in front of flowers, you, clearly embarrassed, tried to talk your way out of it.

"I confronted her about their dad," Atsumu grumbles, hands in his pocket. Eventually, you caved in your sister’s whims, posing demurely, before Kaoru cheered you to try other poses.

Osamu's eyes widened. "Are you an idiot!? Why would you-"

"Did you know that she also told him about our graduation?"

Osamu stopped at that, at its implication, their eyes going to the older (L/N) sister, showing the photos to you.

"Damn."

"I know. Pretty shitty of her."

"Wow, 'Tsumu badmouthing Mika-nee, that's new."

Scoffing, he lifted his head to meet his brother’s. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Shrugging easily, Osamu explains, as their parents walk southward into the park, where an open area for picnic was. "Almost a year ago, you were nothing but praises for her, wouldn’t shut up about her on and on and on.” Breathing out a laugh, he shakes his head when he adds. “Heck, even if she farted you'd think it was cute."

Atsumu's face wrinkles, cringes. "That was before."

“Still,” walking ahead, he stares his brother down, feeling a chill run down his spine. “you never let us forget. Never let (Y/N) forget that.”

Up ahead, the (L/N) siblings were soon joined by Reiki, who took the camera from Mika, opting to take photos of the siblings. (Y/N), who was sandwiched between her older and younger sibling, all smiles for the camera.

“A year ago, it was as though your mission was to make (Y/N) feel so shitty about yourself, all because of your stupid little crush. It took her finally deciding to leave for you to snap out of it.”

Swallowing thickly, Atsumu vaguely remembered that moment of panic, like something had clawed into his chest. Immediately, he feels a sense of shame – for everything he had done to you.

"'Tsumu, you realize that you never said you're sorry to (Y/N), right?"

The hardest pill to swallow was realizing that despite the year he’s had, devoted to making up to you, it just wasn’t enough. Actions may speak louder than words, but just saying those words were just as important. Especially because it was worth noting that, sometimes, Atsumu’s actions can be contradicting to his words and may confuse you. You, who’s suffered quietly all this time, who forced themselves to power through, who unselfishly put others before yourself.

“I’m way past that now,” determination was thick in his tone, strong in his words.

Osamu felt proud to see it, loved to see it. They were nearing their parents – who finally found a nice picnic spot, just right next to the playground hustle.

"Didn't you say that Mika-nee was your one true love?" he couldn’t help but say, egging on his brother, never letting him down on his fuck up.

Osamu nearly fell back as Atsumu tackled him, slapping a hand to his mouth, lest anyone heard it. "KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT, SHITTY 'SAMU!"

"Wasn't she though!?"

"I was a kid!" he reasoned out. "I didn't know shit!"

"Clearly still don't now!" Osamu yelled slapping his brother's hand away from his face.

"FUCK YOU!"

"Now, now, Atsumu, Osamu, no fighting on (Y/N)'s special day!" calls their dad, hands on his hips. Beside him was their mom, smiling as she took photos of the sunflowers all around them.

"Oh, oh, oh, sweetie, let's take a photo with the birthday girl!" hooking her arm around her husband's she didn't give him time to back out before dragging him with her, smiling sweetly at her sons. "And no fighting, Atsumu, Osamu, it's a special day!"

Speaking of special day, Atsumu’s eyes turned to the fields, where you were – feeling his heart settle at your familiar frame, your gentle expression as you gazed at the vibrant yellow sunflowers. He remembered that field trip when they were younger, remembered where your eyes were staring, dug through the display when no one was looking and snuck it in his bag, feeling giddy all over, remembered the smile that came to your face.

It was brighter than any of the sunflowers.

Under the clear blue skies, the sun was shining bright, smiling down on everyone – especially a particular group down at Ono Sunflower Hill Park, circling a girl dressed in white, balloons in hands, all wearing smiles as they sang to greet her.

Their singing echoed out in the field, the wind carrying on their love for the girl in the middle, the girl whose heart was just filled with love with everyone around her.

A simple white cake, decorated in the same flowers that surrounded them was presented to her, and a single candle stood alit, waiting.

When the singing dwindled down, the girl stared at her cake, closed her eyes, and then blew.

She was now 19.

What a lovely day to be loved, feel loved, and be celebrated by love.

Emboldened by his talk with Osamu, brought also by epiphany, Atsumu finds himself carefully approaching Mika.

“Mika-nee, can we talk?”

Reiki, having sensed the mood, excused himself, but not before kissing his girlfriend on the forehead and taking Kaoru with him away from the playground.

Squirming under his gaze, remembering his blow-up on her days before, she fixes him a pleading look. "Atsumu, look, I don't want to fight with you-"

"I'm not sorry for blowing up on you like that, Mika-nee.” He starts, meaning every word. “But I am sorry for intruding into your family business. I just care for (Y/N), she's..." he swallows thickly. "she's been through so much."

Mika’s expression softens, eyes shining. "You really care a great deal about (Y/N), huh?"

“Always have, always will.”

“I’m glad.”

Mika smiles sweetly at him, fiddling with her hands. “It’s just…he’s still my dad, what he did was unforgivable, but the idea of reconnecting with him,” she sniffles, wiping a tear. “how could I not? And then I thought, that maybe (Y/N) would be on board with the idea…” she shakes her head, laughing incredulously. “Clearly, I forgot that I can’t force it on her, can’t fix the trauma he did.” Her face pinches, pained and regret.

The old Atsumu would have rushed and comforted her, assured her that she did great. Emphasis on the old, the Atsumu now just stared, letting her wallow on her mistake.

Covering her face, she groaned into it, before fixing herself up, slapping her cheeks together. “Wooh! How embarrassing of me! Looks like I’ve got a long way to go!” she laughs. Atsumu can’t help but laugh with her.

Even now, her ability to smile through the pain, shoulder her burdens, amazes him. There was a reason he admired this young woman before him, but seeing her open up to her flaws made him admire her even more.

And then he felt it, the urge, something clawing at his chest, words that needed to be said.

“Mika-nee, actually,” the older girl looks up at him, waits patiently. “I…I like you.” Back when he was younger, he had envisioned the perfect confession – something almost like this, with the sun setting behind them, painting them in the afterglow. That was one of his two options for confessing, the other being in the letter he poured his heart in, with your help. “I liked you, Mika-nee.”

It feels freeing to finally say that, to let the person know how much they meant to them. Even if it were no longer the case.

She smiles, sweetly again. “I know.”

Atsumu looks up at her, surprised. Mika’s smile remains.

“E-Eh?”

“I received your letter,” his eyes widen, confusion crawling over. “(Y/N) snuck it into my things before I left for the Netherlands.”

You did that for him? You.

Looking back, his eyes could only widen, realizing that it had been during the incident. Atsumu is assaulted with guilt all over again, brought by your unselfishness, just unsure with what he could say.

“I always thought that it would be the two of you, you know? You three were thick as thieves, enough to rival the three musketeers. But you and (Y/N)? I always felt like there was a great bond between you two.”

“N-Nee-san…actually…I-“ Everything he did to you in the year following the incident came to mind, his self-hate rising, Mika deserved to know.

Instead, she gently shakes her head. “It’s not me you should be telling that to, Atsumu. It’s (Y/N).” taking his arm in her hand, she cups his chin, (e/c) eyes meeting his honey browns, smiling and squeezing on to him arm encouragingly. “Go.”

Coming to, he nods and quickly starts running. Before fully leaving the playground, Mika calls him. “Oh, and Atsumu? Thank you so much for your feelings!”

“Osamu,”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you told me about your first love?”

“…yeah.” He sighs, heavily. “The umeboshi to my onigiri.”

“That’s a funny analogy,” with your arm over his, you leaned against his shoulder as the two of you walked along the pat. “but very fitting for someone you love.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it off. What’s yours?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you look to the field.

“Ah, yes.” Osamu nods, following your gaze. “Sunflowers.”

Leaning against his arm, you murmur. “…he’s my sunflower, Osamu.”

Osamu doesn’t say anything for a while, watching how Kaoru and Reiki raced beside them. Two people missing from their group. “I know he is.”

“And you’re my chicken noodle soup.”

He snorts, looking down at you. “Why?”

“It’s my comfort food, remember? Also, you’re my best friend. You should feel honored.”

“Strange analogy you got there.” He waves at his grandparents, enjoying themselves watch the children play in the fountains.

“Not as strange as your umeboshi and onigiri,” you remind him, teasingly.

Rolling his eyes at that, he can’t deny the gentleness of your voice, its weight and wistfulness.

“Thanks for being my best friend, Osamu.”

Patting his hand over yours, he replies. “Always.”

Breaking away, you smile gratefully at him. He lets you walk off from him, taking a new path.

“Stop sounding like you’re about to die, (Y/N). S’not funny.”

Laughing, you could only tuck your hands behind you. “I’m just feeling nostalgic!”

“Where’re you going?”

“For a walk!”

“Geez, aren’t you tired of walking?”

“Nope,” and you walk further in the new path, Osamu watches you go, but doesn’t follow.

With all his heart, he wishes, for your birthday, all the best for you. Keeping his eyes on white, it slowly shrinks as you walk further and further, away and away, until you were out of sight.

Huffing and puffing, he looked around wildly, searching for (h/c) in a white dress. Atsumu almost cursed at how big of an area the park was, felt pathetic that he was winded out after some runs – he was a fucking athlete, god damn it! About to join a pro-fucking-league-

"Are you looking for someone?" a voice asked him, turning, Atsumu nearly sagged in relief when he found who he was looking for.

You.

"You," he says breathlessly, lips stretched into a wide smile.

Your face scrunched into a light frown, wondering, before producing a handkerchief in your hands, patting his sweaty face. “Have you been running around the park?”

“Nah, just now.” Your frown softens a bit. “Like I said, I was looking for you.”

Tilting your head to the side, confused, you asked. “Why?”

Atsumu opened his mouth, only to stop, realization getting the best of him. Shiiiiiiit.

Suddenly shy, he laughed it off, nervously, uncaring that people were looking at him funny. Concerned washed over your features, which warmed him from the inside, especially with you looking at him all pretty like that. But heck, even without the makeup, you were something else.

“Come on,” you opened a hand to him, an invitation.

Atsumu stared at it, at the scar on your middle finger. Placing his in yours, his larger hand over yours, the two of you began to walk hand-in-hand. You took him by the fields, deep in, as though to hide you amongst the flowers, to be one with them, to a secret place for you both.

For all his life, he couldn’t imagine having to miss out on the feeling, like everything he’s known his whole life is nothing compared to the bright, vibrant yellows and browns around him, in the girl dressed in white, leading him through. And he let you.

How is it that he’s never noticed? Why had he never thought of seeing you? It feels as though he’s led a life blind.

With a tug, the two of you exit the field and into a clearing, all Atsumu can focus on was your smile.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you laugh, walking a few steps to the path. “walking across a sunflower field, I mean.”

Atsumu can’t keep his eyes off your smile, even as the both of you sit on the grass, facing the famed 'Sunflower Tower' made of Mikage granite.

The two of you found yourselves in your little hideaway, with nothing but the sky, the sun, the flowers, and the tower, and of course, each other.

“Sounds like something fresh outta a fairy tale,”

Nodding, you fold your legs, drawing your knees near. “Sunflowers are quite tall, after all. Tall and tough flowers.”

“Like me?”

Laughing, your turn to him, staring at him for a while. “Maybe. Especially with your blond dye.”

At the mention of his hair, he runs a hand through it. “…I’m, uh, thinking of keeping it.”

“You should,” your eyes follow his hands carding through his hair, dark roots slowly showing through. “it’ll be your signature look.”

Running a hand through the back of his hair, he fists them there, unable to look away from you.

You.

Amazing, smart, patient, kind, selfless, beautiful you.

“(Y/N)…” your name came easy through his mouth.

Tilting your head, letting strands of hair slip off your shoulders, you parrot back, “Atsumu…”

Just when did everything seem to feel different between you two? And just how long had he missed the way you look bathed in the sunlight?

Fidgeting a little, Atsumu could feel his strength leave him, being at the receiving end of your gaze. However, looking up, he also draws strength from them.

“I, uh, I kept them,” at your frowned confusion, he shyly – oh so quietly, adds, “your letters.”

Immediately, your face burns, feeling goosebumps run all over your spine. “Ugh,” slapping your hands over your eyes, you wish you could also slap the cringe away. “why.”

Atsumu smiles, despite your apparent horror, shrugging easily.

“It’s a reminder, I guess. A reminder that someone actually liked me. Genuinely and truly. Thought of me. Appreciated me. Written and practically poured her heart out in paper, when it’s the fucking twenty first century. Living proof that someone did that for me, but I was the asshole who humiliated her for something so genuine and heartfelt.”

You would’ve argued then and there, having seen the many love letters he and his brother received from his fan club over the years. And yet, the only one he recognizes are yours.

“Atsumu,” words were failing you, so you just sighed. “that’s behind us now.”

But the look on his face wouldn’t go away, eyes darkening – a dangerous storm brewing, festering.

"You can't return my feelings,” you say kindly. “that's not your fault neither is it your problem."

"Y-Yeah, but I could at least try to-"

"Atsumu, stop. Just, stop.” Turning to him, you take his hand in yours – the one with a scar, fingers rubbing comfortingly. “Please.” You’ve thought about it for a while, a long while, it needed to be said. “I'm not going to force you to like me back, it's not right and it's just wrong. Just because I liked you doesn't mean you're obligated to return my feelings when you clearly don't like me like that. That's that."

"B-But-"

"Besides, I've already accepted it – that my feelings can't reach you." swallowing down it all - the heartache and pain, you lifted your gaze and offered a smile. "If all you're worried about is me forgiving you, rest assured that I have."

"But I don't deserve your forgiveness!" he all but screams, shocking you, his eyes were wet and filled with so much remorse, pain, helplessness, and regret. "I've been an ass to you, (Y/N)! I hurt you while you were already hurting," he remembered having to listen to your cries, muffled behind your hands, the forced smiles, the pained look in your eyes, your back turned to him, his panic of not being able to find you during practice. The realization of the distance between both of you because of him. "I walked around you even though you were breaking from the inside. I might as well be worse than your deadbeat, asshole of a father because I wasn't there for you. I hurt you just as he did! I failed you! I-I-"

A gentle hand touched his elbow, shaking him, he looks up, meeting your kind (e/c) gaze. And that smile, that same kind smile that stretched to your eyes, reflecting an oh so loving gaze he knew he didn't deserve. Even without saying a word, you understood everything he wanted to say, all the sorries that's been resting on his tongue, heavy with the weight of his sins, of the burdens of hurting you, of the love he's had and continue to have for you.

He didn't deserve you.

You didn't deserve him.

But you both loved each other just as much.

"(Y-Y/N)," his voice was barely a whisper, wet and croaking. "I'm so sorry...!"

Enveloping you into a hug, he cries into your shoulder, repeatedly saying “I’m sorry” over and over again.

And you just hold him, caressing his head with your other hand.

“I’ll always love you, Atsumu,” your confession just tore at him, tears leaking more. “you will always be my first love, and that will never change.”

Atsumu hugs you tighter, cries harder. “I love you, too.”

When you let go, there was a smile on your face – a radiant, bright, reflected in your eyes that it brightened up your whole face. Like a sunflower greeting the sun, Atsumu found himself smiling, too. Released from the embrace, in his eyes, he feels his heart fill with a bittersweet sense of warmth and twinge.

Despite it all, it still felt good. It felt really good. Talking to you, settling things with you, loving you – it felt right.

Certain people come into our lives whether we like it or not, and you were no exception.

Sadly, just because you came into their life doesn’t automatically guarantee that they’ll stay with you forever. You can only have them for a time.

One of them may end up as your first love, but it's not guaranteed that they will be your last. They'll be just that - your first love, the first person you offered your heart to, but not the person who gets to keep it.

You were his forever person, the first love he realized too late.

end.

237 notes · View notes

h0rnyshakespeare · 3 years

Note

could you do a fantasy au with bakugou as a kitsune? you’ve just recently moved into a cottage in the woods to get away from your previous life, when you stubble across baku in a trap surrounded by hunters! you of course aren’t going to let some assholes hurt an innocent creature, so you devise a plan to get him free. you draw the hunter’s attention away from the caged baku, causing them to run off. you then get to baku, and are able to free him. though a slight problem, the hunters are coming back, and they see you messing with their ‘find.’ while you’re frozen in place, baku literally picks you up, and jumps into the trees, evading gunshots. he keeps you there until the hunters go away.

after all this drama, you start hanging out with the kitsune more and more. you two get closer as time goes on, and bakugou becomes more and more infatuated and protective of you. he’s touchier, softer, and overall more gentle with you. he even lets you touch his ears and tail. everything is all well and good when oh no, the hunters are back, and they’re out for revenge. while you’re at the cottage, they ransack your home, chasing you out into the woods. you’re sprinting, calling for bakugou as the hunters are gaining. just then, none other than the fox himself jumps in and beats the absolute shit outta the hunters. he then turns to you, worry as well as rage in his eyes. he sees they’ve hurt you, and that’s the final nail in the coffin for what he’s about to do. “Stay with me.” he pleads. “you don’t have a safe home anymore, and even if you did, i can’t promise your safety. i NEED you to be safe, okay. stay with me as my mate. i’ll hunt for you. i’ll protect you. anything, and you’ve got it.” you’re stunned. eyes wide, you ask him why. why does he care so much? nobody else ever did, so why does he, as powerful and as beautiful as he is. the answer isn’t as hard as you would think “it’s because i fucking love you...”

OKAY this is definitely long and more of a vent than anything but i think it’s so cute! just imagine cuddling with him as soft and as cute as he would be, hanging over you like a jungle cat. very nice, very nice indeed

kitsune!Bakugou x gn!reader (I couldn't think of a title, sorry)

Genre: Fantasy

Warnings: Swearing caz Bakugou, brief mentions of gunshots (that’s it I think?? But if there’s anything I missed please let me know)

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Tysm for requesting, this was such a cute idea! I’m sorry this took some time, exams are coming so my writing’s a little slow haha. I wrote this to be gn!reader but if anywhere implies otherwise please let me know :) And to everyone else who requested, I’m working on them!

Y/N: Your name

L/N: Last name

You had recently moved into a little cottage in the woods, not too far away from the main city, but enough to be away from the busy, commercial life you once lived. Others might disagree, but you felt more at peace among nature, like you were truly satisfied. You had never enjoyed living among many people, so you were excited to start your new life, out here in the woods. As you walked back to your cottage after taking a walk to familiarize yourself with your new surroundings, you heard a few voices up ahead. You groaned, not wanting to socialize with anyone, but before you could turn to take a different route to avoid whoever was there, you overheard one of the voices say, “We’re gonna get a fine amount of money for this creature’s fur, ya hear me? So make sure the trap is secure.” A couple of other voices mumbled in agreement. You frowned. Although you could not really make out what animal they had caught, you did know that whatever they were doing, it sounded illegal. You sighed. You did not want to confront anyone, but you made your way towards the voices. You saw three men surrounding a cage, holding… guns? “What have I gotten myself into?” you internally groaned, but it was too late to turn back now. “Um, excuse me?” you called out hesitantly. They turned at the sound of your voice, looking displeased. You smiled nervously. “Hi, um, it’s actually illegal to hunt in this area…” you trailed off, seeing their annoyance. “How would you know, you little punk? Go braid daisy crowns or whatever you do in this dump,” one of them sneered at you. You were slowly growing irritated, but you kept the smile on your face, determining to help whatever animal they had imprisoned. “Ok, well, I was going to let you know that if you walk a few miles from here, there is a hunting area. You guys aren’t the first hunters I’ve seen around here,” you lied through your teeth, trying to distract them to give you enough time to release the trapped creature. “If you check it out, I’ll forget I even saw you guys here, and no one will know that y’all were hunting illegally, ok? Plus, I’ve seen a lot of finer animals in that area.” “Maybe we should listen to her, boss,” one of the hunters said to the one who had spoken to you first. “I mean, it is just a fox, and if we’re caught…” he whispered the rest of his sentence to their leader, who in turn frowned. “Fuck, whatever. How far is the hunting area, kid?” he asked, the question directed to you. “Oh, um, about… 10 miles from here? In that direction,” you said, pointing. “You better not be lying to us,” the hunter glared at you, making you gulp. You tried to act nonchalant until they were out of sight, then immediately rushed to the trap. You gasped when you saw a beautiful fox with… tan, almost golden fur. You had never even heard of foxes that colour. The hunters were idiotic to listen to you and leave this amazing creature, but you were glad they did. The fox made a low, growling noise, snapping you out of your trance. “Ah, right, I’m sorry, I’ll let you out now, don’t worry,” you said, suddenly feeling stupid that you were conversing with an animal. You quickly set your attention onto setting it free. The trap looked complicated to deactivate, but you realized it was actually quite simple, and you managed to free the fox in no time. “There you go,” you smiled, “You’re free now.” Surprisingly, the fox lingered, studying you with beautiful carmine eyes. First tan fur, now red eyes? “You’re like something outta a fairy tale, huh? So pretty,” you said softly, gazing at it at wonder, when you heard distant voices shouting.

Crap. The hunters.

“You really thought you could fool us! There were no animals in that area!” “Ahaha fuck, I’m in trouble,” you murmured, thinking of a way to escape, when you remembered the fox was still here! “Hey uh, you really should get outta here-” you said, turning to find not a fox, but a man with fox ears and a- no wait, nine tails. Your eyes widened, freezing as you tried to process what just happened.

“Oi, dumbass, if you’re not gonna run they’re gonna get you, you know.”

“I- uhhh… well this is a weird dream,” you chuckled nervously. “Tch, idiot,” was all he said before picking you up bridal-style and running faster than the hunters could catch up. You felt something whizz past your ear. “HOLY FU- THEY’RE SHOOTING AT US!” you yelled, grabbing at the man’s collar. “Thanks for stating the obvious, dumbass!” he yelled back. “Now would you shut up so I can focus on not dying?” You quickly turned silent after that statement. Without warning the… man? fox? man fox?? suddenly took a huge leap into the trees, landing on a branch that somehow held his weight. You yelped, then quickly covered your mouth in order to keep quiet as you saw the hunters running past from underneath. “They’re gone now,” you heard the man speak as he set you down on the branch. The tree you both were on was sturdy, giving you a secure foothold. You turned to face him. “Uh, thanks for saving me back there, but I’m pretty sure you were a fox when I first saw you…?” “Tch. Humans really have gotten dumber over the past few years haven’t they. I’m a kitsune. Ya know what that is?” Your eyes widened. “A-a kitsune as in the ones in the fairy tales? The foxes who can shapeshift to humans, and have many tails…” you trailed off, feeling stupid that you had not noticed earlier. The kitsune smirked in response. “Yeah, and I have nine, meaning I’m the most powerful. You’re lucky I was there to save you.” “You saved me? Who was trapped in a cage, huh? If anything, you should be thanking me,” you huffed, annoyed. Who did he think he was? He said nothing, simply gazing at you with interest written all over the flaming pools of scarlet that were his eyes. You tried not to feel intimidated by them, not knowing what powers this creature possessed. You could not deny that he was beautiful as a human, alluring even, with blonde hair similar to his fox fur, and his body looked as if it were sculpted by gods. You gulped, forcing yourself to stop staring at all the scars scattering his bare chest. He smirked as if he knew exactly what you were thinking of, causing your face to heat up. “Where do you live, dumbass? I’m sure you can’t climb down trees.” You rolled your eyes, embarrassed that he was right. “Not far from here, I’ll manage.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” was all he said before he lifted you in his arms again, leaping to the ground and taking you home in no time. “I didn’t even give you directions,” you said, confused. He sighed. “I could smell your scent from here. Why do you live in the middle of the forest?” “Caz I want to??” you said. “That’s weird,” he responded. “Don’t you live here too though?” you retorted. You saw a smirk flicker briefly on his face before being replaced again with his bored expression. “I’ll see you around then, dumbass.” He said, turning to leave. “Wait!” you called out, immediately regretting it. Why’d I do that? But there was no time to question your actions as he looked at you, eyebrow raised. “Uh, I-I just wanted to know your name,” you said a little breathlessly. “Katsuki Bakugou,” he said, never breaking eye contact. “Bakugou, huh? Well, I’m Y/N L/N,” you replied. Bakugou shrugged. “I’ll be leaving then dumbass.” You huffed. “I literally just told you my name!” “And?” was all he said, before vanishing through the foliage of trees. You exhaled slowly, feeling a little disoriented. You had so many questions but decided not to think too much of the day’s events, instead opting for relaxing in your new home.

The next day, you decided to just hang out at home, yet you could not get the kitsune out of your mind, making you frustrated. “Ah, fuck it,” you mumbled, before heading out. You were not sure where you were going, but you walked in the same direction you did yesterday. “What are you doing this you idiot? What if the hunters find you again?” you thought, yet your body did not listen, continuing to walk in the same path. You did not run into anyone on the way. Unfortunately, that included Bakugou. You decided to just sit down under a tree and read the book you had brought with you. You had been peacefully reading for a while, the sounds of the forest soothing to you ears.

“Well fancy seeing you here.” You whipped your head at the sound of his voice. You saw the fox with tan fur you rescued yesterday. “Bakugou?” He transformed into his human form, grinning as he did so. “So, what’re you doing here, dumbass? Missed me?” You rolled your eyes. “You wish. I came here to relax for a bit.” “Whatever you say, dumbass. What’re you reading?” You showed him your book, causing him to snort. “What?” you asked, slightly irritated. What was his deal? “Your taste is so bland, I’m not surprised.” “Fuck off,” you responded. “As if you’ve ever even touched a book before.” “I have,” Bakugou said, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t peg you as the type to read,” you said, getting back to your book. “Is that all modern-day kitsunes do these days?” Bakugou shrugged. “I’ve never met any others here.” You looked back at him, surprised. “So… you’re alone?” “Tch. I just prefer to be by myself.” You nodded. “Me too.” “Pfft, you? You look like someone who would love being around people, with how much you talk and all.” You glared at him. “And this is exactly why I like being on my own.” He raised his arms. “I guess I’ll leave then. Since you seem to really hate company, right dumbass?” “My name is not dumbass, it’s Y/N. Why’re you so rude?” you hissed. You were met with silence when you realized he had left. You could not believe you actually came out all this way just to talk to him, only for him to randomly leave mid-conversation. You huffed, shifting your position to get more comfortable. “I’m still here you know.” You jumped, hearing his voice from above you. “What the hell?” He snorted in amusement. “You really think you could get rid of me that easily, dumbass?” You rolled your eyes, but inside you felt secretly happy that he had stayed, and you hated it. “You’re so annoying,” you retorted, turning a page in your book, yet somehow not really seeing the words. It was quiet for a while, before Bakugou jumped back down to the ground, sitting next to you. “Read that for me,” he said in a tone unlike his usual one. “What?” “You seem to like this trash so much, so read it,” he said, making himself comfortable. You sighed. “Fine.”

And so began the afternoons you would spend with him. Every day, you would meet him under the same tree and read. Sometimes he would fall asleep next to you, exposing a more soft and vulnerable side of him, contrasting to his normally brash and rough personality. It was pretty sweet, and over time, your feelings for him only grew. You were not sure, but you felt that he too had become softer and gentler around you as time went on. He even let you pet his ears, blushing whenever you did so, trying to hide his flusteredness behind his colourful words. He even went as far as falling asleep on your lap in wolf-form, making you happy he could trust you with the more vulnerable side of him.

You were at home, about to leave to meet Bakugou, when you heard some commotion outside. You were about to check when you heard the door break open. “Find them!” you heard a loud voice say. Your blood ran cold. The hunters? Why were they so set on revenge? You heard something break as they stormed through your house. Before you could grab something to defend yourself, one of them burst into your room, causing you to freeze. “There you fucking are,” he said moving towards you, blocking the exit. Thinking fast, you opened the window next to you and jumped out. Thankfully, it was close to the ground, so you easily picked yourself up and you ran, not daring to look back, but you heard them shouting and running after you. You sprinted down the familiar path, calling for Bakugou as you did. “Goddammit, where are you Bakugou?” you yelled as the hunters gained on you, when-

“The HELL you fuckers think you’re doing, HAH?”

You had never felt so relieved to hear his voice. “Bakugou!” “Stay behind me,” was all he said before going absolutely feral. He beat them up in no time, then watched as they ran away in terror. When he made sure they were gone, he turned to you, anger dissipating, his eyes filled with worry. “You ok?” You nodded weakly, then raised your arm, showing him the wound you had gotten when one of the hunters had shot at you. “It’s not bad, don’t worry. The bullet didn’t hit me, just grazed my skin.” “Shit,” Bakugou cursed as he took your arm in his hand, examining it. “That’s definitely more than a fucking graze.” “It’ll heal, I’m good at first aid,” you said. Bakugou looked at you, incredulous. “Dumbass, this needs more than first aid, are you really that stupid? Don’t move,” he said as his hands began to glow. He positioned them above your wound, using his power to heal you. “Thanks, Bakugou,” you said when he was done. “Really, I appreciate everything.” “Katsuki,” he said, not looking at you. “Huh?” you said, confused. “Call me Katsuki, dumbass.” A playful smile made its way on your lips. “Sure, when you call me Y/N.” He chuckled, then looked at you with a serious gaze. “I want you to stay with me.” You looked at him, dumbfounded. “W-What? What do you mean?” “Your home isn’t safe anymore. Those hunters could come back anytime, I went easy on them. I need you to be safe, Y/N, I-” he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “What would’ve happened to you if I wasn’t there? Just… please, become my mate Y/N. I’ll do anything for you, I’ll hunt for you, protect you, anything you want.” You were stunned, trying to process what he had just asked. “Y-You want me to be your… your mate? Why? And why would someone like you care so much about someone like me when no one really ever has?” He blushed, looking away to glare at the grass. “Fuck, I don’t know, maybe it’s caz I fucking love you, dumbass.”

#kitsune!bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #anime #bnha oneshots #mha oneshots #mha #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha fics #mha fics #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bnha fantasy au

220 notes · View notes