#//there's a lot of stuff here that really sucks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wihellib · 1 day ago

Text

Reblogging this to add my kinda summarized opinions about Barbatos’ and Gamigin’s H scenes under the cut.

Barbatos

You nearly collapsed in the Hades palace, but Barbatos caught you, wearing an anxious expression you weren’t used to. He carries you into his rose garden, which is full of sunlight and vibrant colours unlike the rest of Hades. So, his kink is on full display here.

Barbatos sets you down in the middle of the garden and starts sniffing you all over, while waxing poetic about you. He waxes poetic about you the entire H scene. Lots of Sun and flower metaphors. Being showered with genuine compliments is very nice.

You are acting cold to him because of the whole poisoning situation. And I’m happy to see a bit of backbone from the MC that’s nonexistent when it comes to Leviathan. You question why he’s acting so into you when he tried to kill you and he implies that since he didn’t actually kill you it means he wasn’t trying to kill you (because you’d be dead if he truly tried).

Barbatos fingers you to climax, while encouraging you to cum as much as you want. He purposely removes his fingers so you squirt all over him and the grass. He thanks you for watering his garden.

He takes off his shirt (and we finally get to have an H scene where the guy has a shirtless sprite, since Barbatos already has a shirtless sprite for other reasons. It looks so much better, please give everyone a shirtless sprite for their H scenes, PB!)

Barbatos teases you for your cold words while at the same time looking at him with so much heat and compares you to Leviathan. He disrobes you and mouths at your chest, sucking and biting.

This is my favourite CG of all the H scenes. The proportions are good. The expressions are nice. The poses make sense. I think the roses in the background are pretty. I like the detail of the bite marks and other marks all over your upper body. Your hand griping his hair while one of his is suggestively at your crotch. Really, I just think it’s a very well done CG.

On a side note, I’m very surprised that they just had female MC’s nipple right out in the open in the CG. They usually try very hard to censor stuff like that and Barbatos could have easily just had one of his hands on top of it, but they didn’t do that. I just thought that was interesting.

You’re getting impatient with Barbatos’ teasing. He’s rubbing his tip at your entrance. He finally penetrates you when you say you forgive him. He jackhammers away at you and sucks at your chest. You release your grip on his hair and grab his horn. That gets him going even more. He uses flower and seed metaphors to imply he wants to impregnate you. Which was a very pleasant surprise for me.

You climax together, panting hard. You think about how you said you forgave him, but there still needs to be more of a discussion about it. Which is good, you’re showing some sensible post-nut clarity. After there’s good pillow talk. He starts smelling you again, but is upset that you don’t smell like the sun anymore. You laugh and reply that it makes sense since you smell like him now. Which makes him very happy. He praises and compliments you. It ends with him holding you while you sleep and reaffirming that he really wants to get you pregnant.

Very solid H scene, definitely in the top 3 for me.

Gamigin

Gamigin hugs you from behind to stop you from falling over. He can tell something’s missing from you and thinks you’re about to die. The Hades nobles start squabbling over who gets to help you, while the Tartaros nobles are off to the side already knowing it’s a lost cause.

Gamigin takes you to a shower room while they are distracted. He says it’s important for a patient to be clean, turning on the shower so the room fills with steam. Another H scene that has the guy’s kink front and centre.

You assume because of his innocent expressions and behaviour that Gamigin is not well versed in adult matters. But that is not true.

He drenches himself as he moves under the steam of water and he tells you to come to him. You’re completely overwhelmed by his presence, blocking out everything but him.

He recognizes your humanity and apologizes for being to eager with his ‘words’. The world comes back into focus for you. So, Gamigin seems to have some kind of mind control abilities.

Gamigin pulls us under the water with him, drenching us as well. He smoothly offers to help you out of your clothes so you don’t get sick. And you offer the same to him.

He pulls your shirt over your eyes so you can’t see and tells you to turn around. You bend over as he finishes taking off your and his clothes.

You realize he loves the sound of water hitting your naked body, so you turn the pressure up on the water.

The CG is okay. Lots of negative space. Just not as visually interesting as others.

He throws his head back in pleasure and you see his reverse scale on his neck. He muses that you caught him then penetrates you in a position lets him get deep.

He tells you about the open secret of him being a dragon, not a devil. You stutteringly tell him you’ll keep his secret, but Gamigin isn’t sure you will because you’re human. He covers your eyes again and says it would be better if you didn’t see it.

So, it turns out that canonically Gamigin has two dicks (Yes!!!) and he double penetrates you. I wish there was more prep and foreplay rather than him surprising you by just sticking it in.

He threatens you that if you don’t keep his secret then this is what’s going to happen from now on. You tell him you’ll keep his secret as long as he doesn’t stop right now.

Then, Gamigin wonders if he should cum inside you since he can get you pregnant unlike devils. And you enthusiastically want him to, pushing your butt back against him. Which is definitely not very smart since it would be a very bad idea to bring a baby into your current situation, but what do I know.

He, though, was ecstatic with your response and came inside you. He hugs you and looks contrite, wondering if you were scared. You ruffle his hair and tell him you’ll weren’t scared but you want him to trust you from now on. He smiles brightly.

Later on, he thinks happily about how you and him now share a secret.

I thought this H scene was fine but I was really hoping that Gamigin was going to be cutely submissive with you. Since he wasn’t, it was a bit of a let down for me. But I’m really glad it was confirmed he has two dicks. Overall, it’s middle of the pack in my personal ranking of H scenes.

Mammon was voted #1 in the Favourite H Scene poll here. Not really surprising. His H scene was quite good. Satan was 2nd and Foras was 3rd. I am surprised by Foras. I think there might be a bit of recency bias in this case.

Under the cut is my completely biased, quickly-written, kinda summarized opinions on each of the H scenes.

Satan

Satan staring at you without blinking while kissing and sleeping still throws me off.

I like that Satan reassures you that he’s doesn’t just like you because you’re the descendant of Solomon.

I don’t like hair pulling or strangulation, so not very fond of this scene, even though I like Satan a lot.

The CG is nice. I like how he’s grinning and the glow of his eyes.

Only features a little bit of spanking even though that’s his kink.

It’s mentioned that we’re feeling the pleasure that Satan’s feeling. This is done in several scenes. I’ve never liked it. It feels like a cop out.

The scene ends abruptly with you blacking out. I much prefer when there a bit of follow up/pillow talk afterwards.

Sitri

Sitri gives you tea to calm your nerves that makes your heart beat a lot faster and louder because of the caffeine… but I don’t think caffeine works to this extent, so creative liberty I guess.

His kink, hearing heartbeats, features prominently in this scene. Keeping his head near your chest, mouth on your chest, feeling your heartbeat through your intimate connection, and moving in time with your heartbeat.

You’re feeling turned on because he’s turned on, similar to Satan’s scene, still not a fan.

You feel more aroused as your heart beats faster and you think it might explode… I don’t see what’s arousing about that.

CG was good again. I liked that he’s showing a lot more emotion than his normal sprite usually does.

He calls you Solomon throughout, which is annoying, but does call you by your real name at the very end (the only time he’s done so).

Some pillow talk at the end which is nice.

Zagan

Zagan blushes and turns away when he sees your naked body, which is cute.

He’s quiet like usual, but does speak when you ask him why he wanted to help you, and says he wanted to do it with you and give you devils energy, while blushing. Very cute.

You get to take a bit more of a lead, be a bit more assertive, in this one, you’re not just manhandled around, which is refreshing.

I like that he seems to have a praise kink.

He tries to increase his muscle use, get a better workout, increase movement, which is his kink, which arouses him more, which arouses you. Fine whatever.

The CG is fine. Your foot looks wonky with its finger-like toes but Zagan looks good.

Some pillow talk again. Zagan has been mostly silent, but does say it was a good workout and he wants to do it again at the end.

Leraye

Leraye is completely overwhelmed by pleasure from hearing thunder, which is his kink. He basically tackles you onto the bed and glues himself on top of you.

I’m pretty sure this is the first time one of them play with your genitals during foreplay.

You are getting aroused from the thunder too, so we’re keeping the trend of whatever the guy likes you also like inexplicably.

MC comments he’s more like a growling wolf and not his golden retriever self.

I really like this CG. He’s completely on top of you, pressing you down on your stomach, while covering your eyes and biting your neck. His presence is overwhelming.

The thunder goes away and Leraye comes back to his senses. He’s so happy that it wasn’t a dream, smiling, lays down next to you, wishes you good dreams and kisses your forehead. I very much like this wind-down to the scene.

Paimon

We go to Paimon’s room instead of ours for this scene, which is a nice change of pace. His room is full of mirrors, which feature heavily in this scene. His kink, which is blood, isn’t included at all.

We’re also not naked right at the very start, which I much prefer. I like the undressing phase.

Paimon rubs your genitals and forces you to look at what he’s doing to you in the mirror, which he continues throughout the scene. I was surprised how dominant Paimon was in this scene, but I wasn’t against it.

Paimon says he loves pretty things and looking at pretty things from multiple angles. He says that you’re pretty and a devilish human.

He makes you brace your hands against a wall mirror and stuffs your shirt in your mouth.

The CG is good. For the first time we are shown a different angle than us on a bed. Paimon’s face seems a little off to me, but overall it’s good.

Paimon throws the mirror on the ground, so you’re forced to look at a different, more revealing angle.

Just a little bit of pillow talk. Paimon kisses us and tell us to come him when we want to play more.

Mammon

Back in Minhyeok’s room unfortunately. Mammon comes out swinging by immediately commenting on how skilled we look in accepting devil’s energy.

Mammon says that it was obvious since he first met you that he had to have you, but he also realized that he would just be one of many that would try that tactic. So, he decided to do something he’s never done before and let you have him. You will be his first master. He also reveals that he wasn’t as close to Solomon as the other Kings. You ask if he only likes you because you’re the descendant of Solomon and he replies that he just fell in love with you at first sight. This affection is clear throughout this scene, which increases its rank a lot for me.

Mammon’s kink is all about bottoms, and this scene reflects that. You’re both grabbing each other’s butts and getting more aroused.

Mammon picks you up and holds yours buttcheeks open while you wrap your arms around his neck. I like that Mammon is showing off his strength here.

I do wish that they had spent some time on Mammon using his fingers or tongue to prep you to take him. He is very large, evident by the fact that your first thought when he entered you was, ‘I am going to die’, so it would have been nice to see him care about making sure he doesn’t hurt you. He does hold himself still at first to let you adjust, but I still would have liked some prep beforehand.

The CG is good. No complaints.

Mammon flips you around, so you’re in a standing 69 position, showing off his strength again, and you give each other oral.

Longer pillow talk. He lays you on top of him, it was very nice.

Bimet

Bimet changes his tune about you real quick when Mammon declares you to be his master. He kneels before you and informs you that you became the being that arouses him the most with that declaration. He cannot covet Mammon, but now he can covet you, the only one who owns Mammon, and he is ecstatic about that. He wants to serve you. Bimet’s kink is wealthy people and you’re the wealthiest of all.

I do not like Bimet and I do not like his reasons for favouring you. It is shallow and fragile. He would be back to contempt for you the moment Mammon lost interest. I’m not a big fan of this H scene simply because I don’t like Bimet.

He licks your toes, which no thank you. He does oral on you and puts his conniving tongue to good use.

CG is good. I like how wet his mouth is because of you.

Some pillow talk. He gives you the first thing he truly owned himself, a coin from Solomon, and tells you to give it back to him if you choose him. I would have preferred if the first thing he owned wasn’t from Solomon.

Belial

You go to wrap your naked body in a blanket like you usually do, but Belial stops you and says you’ll end up taking it off anyways. The immediate assertiveness was surprising but interesting.

Because of his throat injury, Belial talks very little and Jjyu is not there to help him, so he communicates with you by writing on your naked body, which is his kink. It is a very good, intimate solution. He writes lots all over your body while fingering you.

You are against the wall, facing Belial, while he penetrates and writes adorations on you.

The CG shows that everything he’s written is glowing red on you. It’s a nice picture, but I could have done without him licking your armpit. I think I would have preferred a kiss in the lips instead.

Some pillow talk, you fall asleep with him inside of you.

Valefor

We have moved on from Minhyeok’s room, which is great. I felt it was much too restrictive, and caused repetitiveness.

Valefor reassures you and you tell him he is kind and reminds you of Mammon, which he approves of. When you see that he likes it, you lean more into the comparisons. Valefor is turned on by being compared to Mammon because he respects him greatly. You talk about Mammon a lot, but I wish it was a bit less, because this is supposed to be Valefor’s moment, not Mammon’s. His kink is supposed to be hearing explicit narratives, so I don’t think this really relates to it.

Valefor praises you for how well you know how to please a devil. And tells you to run away if you want to only know him as the kind relaxed Valefor.

Then we start going into exhibitionism territory, with him leading you to the closed door, where Bimet is just outside keeping watch. This is also not his kink.

Bimet leaves to check something, so Valefor increases the risk factor and opens the door while you’re both naked and penetrates you.

The CG is fine. The way you and he are positioned are a bit odd. It’s hard to tell whose body part is whose.

Valefor basically taunts you asking where Bimet is, then puts you in an even more embarrassing position.

Some pillow talk. He lifts you up, kisses your forehead, and you admire his chest.

Leviathan

Levi decides to give you devil energy even though he doesn’t like you. He hangs you and insults Minhyeok in an effort to make you mad so you hurt him, which will arouse him. So that’s what happens.

The CG is my least favourite of all of them. You start stomping on his lap and dick. Your toes are oddly long again and you have an oddly muscled thigh. Levi is not even naked. This is the only CG that doesn’t take place during some sort of penetration.

You straddle him and start strangling him and enough clothes have been taken off at this point that he penetrates you.

Then you kissed him for so long that you were both feeling oxygen deprived. He is in awe that you showed him there’s another way to suffocate. He thinks you’re talented. Only very little pillow talk.

I don’t like Levi. The way he acts and talks to you. I don’t like it at all. I also don’t like breath control, his kink, or anything to do with strangulation/choking, or beating people up. So this H scene was not for me at all.

Glasyalabolas

Glasy’s kink is necrophilia, and they include his kink in the H scene by making you as limp as a corpse after kissing him. Oh boy. I’m not fond of Glasy and I don’t like the idea of not being in control of yourself and unable to move at all. So this scene ranks very low for me.

He licks your toes, not a fan. He plays with your chest and nipples. He spreads you open and just stares, then performs oral on you, while keeping you spread open.

He makes your limp hand jerk him off, then uses your slack mouth. This is the second time you performed oral on a demon. This is what the CG shows, though I would have preferred if they picked something else.

Then he manhandles you into position to penetrate you. He cums inside you. Then he moves to your throat again and comes there too. This is the first time the guy has come twice in an H scene.

There is pillow talk. He wraps you in his cape, holds you and kisses you as the limpness wears off. He tells you he’ll fetch you when you die, but it’s good you’re alive now.

Foras

You realize you need devils energy, but none are around you right now, so you start masturbating. You hear the door open, but don’t see anyone. Foras is invisible, which plays into his kink.

He starts playing with your genitals while invisible. You realize who he is and call out to him, but he ignores you.

Finally he tells you to take off your clothes, pose embarrassingly, and just sit there in silence while he watches while still invisible. The dominance he’s displaying is unexpected, but fine.

Foras puts his dick near your mouth and you suck him off.

He penetrates you, again while all the while being invisible, so it looks like you’re being fucked by a ghost.

The CG could be better. His expression looks a little wonky and you’re clothed in it even though you’re supposed to be naked.

Foras informs you that he was there for every H scene. He really liked that you never noticed him.

He doesn’t let you see him afterwards, which I think he should have. He gets your permission to keep watching you having sex. Then he inexplicably cums on your face after you fall asleep. No thank you sir. And for some reason you don’t even comment on it after you wake up.

Overall

I liked Leraye, Mammon, Belial, Zagan, Paimon, and Valefor H Scenes the most.

#what in hell is bad #whb reblog #whb s reblog #whb barbatos #whb gamigin #whb h scene #whb opinion #whb rambles #whb chapter 7 #whb chapter

274 notes · View notes

the-fyre-flie · 2 days ago

Text

So... people hating on Justice League × RWBY, the two cross-over movies for DC and RWBY, has to be blown out of proportions or a joke... right? Cuz these movies are great. At least, in my opinion. They're fun and a bit stupid and incredibly entertaining for me, who's a fan of both DC (my current biggest fixation) and RWBY (my friend likes it so I must like it too) (Link to the movies at the bottom btw!)

Sure, I'll relent they're a little boring at times, and they completely butcher both DC and RWBY characters sometimes, but like... I finished watching a review by The Judgemental Critter (who I love btw and I think their opinions are pretty agreeable most of the time! No hate to them at all!) but a lot of the points just... don't make sense to me?

More Yappage Below

The animation and models being bad was said a lot, and while I can agree in some places like Weiss' weird skirt, saying the hands and faces look weird just... doesn't feel right? They look fine to me? I'm a 3D artist, I make thumbnails and promotional art for youtubers as a job and animate as a hobby, and the models look more than okay. The proportions are a bit wonky, but RWBYs animation has always been wonky. Calling the lowered framerate lazy and ugly also bugged me, cuz like... lowering the framerate to showcase sudden motions or lame actions is REALLY common. It isn't lazy, it's saving resources for moments you care about... like the fights. RWBY and DC both love their big flashy fights. Why would they waste time animating Blake picking a lock? RWBY itself is 90% fightscenes, so on top of that, why are you against big drawn-out fights?

I do agree that some of the designs suck specifically the heroes... I really really hate Bruce's Remnant costume being all black and gray. It's a personal pet peeve of mine when Batman isn't allowed color because I feel like it's antithetical to his entire character if he's all dark. Bruce needs to have some color, some light, or else he risks slipping right into the darkness that is Gotham. The same reason Robin is so brightly colored. It represents his hope for the city. So seeing all black/grey Batman with no color AND no cowl shape language bugged me. Anyways, here's my redesign, lol. Includes real bat ears, a half mask, and blue and yellow splashes! Nothing major!

The way they didn't really include Cyborg, Vixen, or Flash in the story for 70% of it bugged me too, but trying to say the Teen Titans would be better irked me slightly Sure, they might relate better as teens, but a major part of the story's conflict is Ruby being young and struggling to control her team because it's easy for people to overlook her or ignore what she has to say while Clark feels all that confidance from normally being an adult dude running an adult team. The JL being adults turned into teens puts them into a unique position where, unlike with the Teen Titans or Young Justice back home, they they have no real power or leverage over RWBY or JNPR. This is a conflict for both sets of people, and simply wanting "better character moments" feels like a cheap way to just nitpick. Especially when you also claim you dislike how much standing around and exposition there is. If Raven of all people showed up to brood, she would have to explain why she's so broody, which is just more loredumps you stated you didn't like. The movies over explaining of Semblance and Dust would have been way worse they were also forced to explain every DC heros past. This movie is very clearly targeting DC fans who have some knowledge on RWBY but are not super into the series. Note how the movies never once explain Batman, Superman, Vixen, Flash, or Cyborgs powers, and the time they spent vaugly talking about Wonder Womans it's turned into a trauma dump between Blake and Diana? They expect you to already know their stories. They way Clark and Bruce talk about their parents but not his planet is simplified down for RWBY fans because DC fans are expected to know this stuff.

On that note... Bruce was never debating leaving Gotham behind. It's pretty obvious in the movies. When Weiss offers for him to stay, he never responded. When Diana brought it up to him, his top priority is helping more, but he doesn't specify if he means Remnant or Gotham. As dumb as someone might think "they've been turned into teens" is as a point, it's very much an important plot point for Bruce. When he was a teen, he was the only man of the Wayne household, training to be Batman, still dealing with his grief over his parents. He truly never got to be a real teen. This is also the first time he's had real actual powers (at least in this very messy canon), and it's important to him, and it's clouding some of his judgment as a teen. But him liking having powers is not him willing to ditch Gotham. As soon as he was back on Earth, he was in Gotham, helping. There was never a debate. It was him dealing with the fact that he felt inferior. Literally, it's hormones and anxiety about not doing enough as Batman without powers. Is it a little goofy that Batman is insecure? Yes. Is it him abandoning his code? No.

Tho I do hate how he pretends his father literally didn't become batman in an alternate reality. Like Come on Bruce, Thomas was willing to throw down the same way you are, you did not "let go of their expectations".

More Bruce rant, his Semblance is very clearly not heat vision. It's Detective Vision (as named by the wiki). In the first showcase of his Semblance, he's not seeing the heat off Weiss or the electrical wire. It's noting the most important features of the room and how to escape. This is showcased more in the fight with Kilg%re!Barry, where his Semblance specifically notes the Morse Code and translated it. It's just super investigation powers. Which is lame... but it's not heat vision. I felt like I had to correct that.

I'd like to end this rant here even tho I said a lot more in dms to my friend... I feel bad just... 'responding' to someone who will never see it or care about my opinions. I really do like Judgmentals judgments (lol) 90% of the time, but I also feel really passionately about these particular movies, seeing as it combine me and my friends' two favorite things. It feels very close to home in a way, I guess. I hope people go and watch the movies and enjoy them!

I've linked both parts here to Internet Archive! The rips are a little weird in quality (very dark for some reason?) But they are the full movies!

Part 1

Part 2

32 notes · View notes

smellslikechahnspirit · 2 days ago

Text

[Book]

Are we good for each other?

5. Room

Bang Chan x F. Reader

Synopsis: Written according to y/n trophy. A story about how you two met. Both having a difficult life, finding peace in each other. Not without lots of drama. Just read it, it's great.

Genre: Enemies to lovers, soft, some smut, drama

Warnings: Under eating, depression, toxic ex (Let me know if I missed something)

Word count: 3200

______________________________

[8:25 AM]

Chris opened the door to his shared dorm, as he guided you in with your crutches. You just came back from the hospital where you got a cast on your leg. “Well, that was a disaster...”, you said. “I mean the ankle sucks, but it’ll heal. I’m more worried about your eating habits y/n. Please explain to me why you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”, Chris asked.

As you two walked in you looked around. It was indeed a very different aesthetic than the other dorm. He then helped you sit down on the couch in their living room. “Well, I want to eat, it’s just…”, you said, stopping in the middle of the sentence, not wanting to finish it. You simply didn’t have enough money right now, but the last thing you wanted was a rich guy pitting you, and maybe try to offer you stuff. That’s just everything you didn’t want.

“Y/n….I know you’re struggling with money and I don’t know, maybe you feel too embarrassed to tell me or whatever, but I’m here, I can help you ou- “, Chris said as you cut him off. “No, I don’t want any help. I know what you’re trying to do, and just be a nice human, but I just can’t, it would ruin my ego and dignity. So please don’t ever offer me anything like that ever again.”, you said wanting to get back up again so you could leave.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry, I understand. But right now, it’ll be on the company. Since you work at our building now technically, meals are free. So even though you do not want to take anything from me, I’m ordering us something in their name. I won’t take no for an answer. You need food in your system right now, period.”, he said holding your arm so you couldn’t get up.

You were too weak mentally and physically to argue right now so just gave in and agreed. “What do you like to eat, rice? Maybe some pasta? Tell me.”, he asked. You looked at him with a faint expression. “Whatever you want…”, you said as you lay your head back on the couch and closing your eyes. “Alright I’ll choose something. Meanwhile, let’s not worry about the gaming for today. Let’s just hang out here for a bit.”, he said as he got you a blanket. He put it over your body as you tried to get cosy.

“Can we maybe put on a movie?”, you asked him. He was glad you were acting more social to him than before, first you seemed distant, but now he felt more at ease with your behaviour towards him. “Here, put on anything you want.”, he said as he handed you the joystick of the gaming console in the living room.

He then went to the kitchen to get some drinks and called the food company to order. At first when you looked, you wanted to instantly open up the streaming app on there, to in fact choose a movie. But right next to it you saw a racing game. Your gaming heart couldn’t resist.

You clicked on it, and loaded into the only account that was on there, it said: Han Jisung. You didn’t care since all you wanted was to just play a match or two. Then you saw the rank. It was silver 2 division 3. You laughed.

Not to be rude, but that was really low. You didn’t want to mess with his rank and went on a guest account. So, you did and clicked 3v3 rumble. As the match loaded, Chris came back from the kitchen. He looked over at you as he asked what movie you picked. Then he looked at the screen.

“He he he…”, you grinned. He smiled at you and put the drinks down. Then he sat next to you. “Hmmm nice one, I’ve seen that one before.”, he said sarcastically. “I just needed to at least rank diamond 3.”, you said with desire in your voice. “Yeah, I have no idea what that means, but yay I guess.”, he said as he looked at you. You looked back at him.

You explained the ranking as he stayed quiet and just listened to you. Admiring your face while you spoke. Gosh you were beautiful he thought to himself. “So, if I play a few rounds, we’ll find out what rank I’ll be and well, I don’t expect anything lower than at least Plat, for now at least.”, you said as the match suddenly started. You turned you focus back to the screen, but his didn’t.

He just hummed in agreement but kept looking at you. “Hey, you should pay attention here, you need to learn right?”, you said since you saw him staring at you instead of the screen, from the corner of your eye. “I thought we weren’t learning today...”, he said as he kept looking at you and not the screen. You just glanced over real quick and laughed. “I guess so...hehehe”, you said, still very concentrated.

After 5 minutes the game was over and you and your team won, obviously. You even became MVP on the scoreboard. “GG bitches.”, you said out loud to be funny and stereotypical. You laughed and put the controller down on the coffee table for a second.

You turned your head back towards Chris and noticed he in fact did not move a single muscle and was still admiring you. Not in a creepy way but he was just so amazed by you and you excitement, it made him smile. “Whut?”, you asked him. “Nothing, you’re just amazing.”, he said. Then instantly realising what he just said and became as red as a tomato.

He looked down and smiled to himself. You stayed quiet. But you now finally saw it. Was he having a thing for you? Was this tension between you guys mutual? At first you wanted to be professional and not give into these strange feelings. But something in you felt so comfortable with him all of a sudden. You then also remembered how he helped you in the gym, and also how he stayed by your side in the hospital. How he was being too generous and taking care of you. You looked over to your glass. It had 2 ice cubes and a little pink umbrella in it. Even a mint leaf.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”, you asked him, who was now sitting only about half a meter away from you. “Some people are worth caring for…”, he said. He knew you hated being pitied, so he would never want you to feel that way towards him ever again. Yet he also felt this desire towards you. He did really like you and liked you as a person. You were funny and sarcastic, even a little bit goofy, and maybe somewhat like him, strong.

He knew you weren’t gonna give up your fight and it made him feel like he was not alone. Like you knew what it was like, having a hard time and he couldn’t really share those feelings with anyone else these last couple of years. He wanted someone to be able to agree with him and understand his hardship. He felt like you and him were the same in a way, and felt a great connection, even though you two only just met.

You smiled at him. Something in you was really attracted to him. All the worries from before were gone, and all you felt was a great desire to kiss this man in front of you. You were doubting yourself, since normally you wouldn’t do something like this with someone you’ve just met. But you felt it, he definitely felt the same way about you. No words had to be used. Only this diamond plated tension. You were so desperate now. But you knew you had to be patient.

As you both just stared at each other, both wanting to kiss, you said: “Maybe, we shouldn’t…”. As you said that he pulled away a bit and looked at you. “I know…I didn’t mean to…”, he said. “No I know, but…I just got hired at your company, and I feel like if we go there already right now, people might get the wrong ideas. That I indeed am privileged like that right now. To be able to work there and I don’t know, there many things people could think, you know some people have fucked up minds, like what if you’re a sugar daddy or I don’t know… I would just feel bad if anyone-“, he shut you up, by indeed kissing you.

His kiss was soft and tender. “I don’t care.”, he said, as you looked at him with big eyes, in shock. “Let them think whatever the fuck, no one is here, no one knows shit.”, he said. You kept looking into his eyes and thought the same thing now. You pressed your lips against his this time and pulled him even closer than before.

Both of you eager to continue this hot make out. He was pulling you closer. You rubbing your hands around his neck, shoulders, arms, then finally locked hands with him. He helped you sit on his lap, straddling him. You were both lost in lust as the kiss continued. “Fuck..”, he said between kisses. “I don’t know what I’m doing but I like it.”, you said right after.

He grabbed your ass and squeezed it tight. You left out a soft moan. Chris normally wouldn’t have done anything like this with anyone, let alone with a girl he just met. But as I’ve said before, he was so lost in the feeling.

“Gosh, I want you…”, he said as he had his hands at the bottom of your dress, ready to take it off. “Wait, what if anyone just comes in? Stop.”, you said as you stopped him from doing anything else. He looked at you with red cheeks and out of breath. Without saying anything he stood up with you still on his lap. Now holding you with your legs around his waist, as he walked towards his bedroom.

When he reached the door you kissed him again. He walked in, and placed you on the bed softly, carefully because of your ankle. When you lay down you giggled. He went back to the door to close it and lock it, just to be sure.

You looked adorable like that and he admired you from a distance. As he slowly walked over to you, he reached for his shirt, and pulled it off his body in a swift motion. You gasped softly when you saw his body. You stopped giggling and sat up straight.

When he reached you, you instantly brought your hands towards his abs. Gliding over them, up toward his pecks, then his shoulders and pulled him down so he was also on the bed now. Sitting, facing you. He smiled and grabbed the hem of your dress again. You were signalling that it was okay for him to take it off this time.

As he did, he kept looking only into your eyes. Words were not really needed right now, all that had to be said was said with actions. He tossed your dress on the floor and you continued making out. You both were feeling up each other’s bodies. When suddenly you reached his dick, you looked at him, asking him if it was okay for you to touch him. He nodded and kissed you again.

As the kiss became sloppy and very heated, you palmed his dick through his jeans. “Uhh..”, he moaned, not being able to wait any longer.He was rock hard already. You giggled. As you kept palming him for a few seconds, he grind his hips against your hand.

When you felt like it was enough you finally put your hand inside his pants, and stoked his dick with your bare hands now. You stopped for a second, so you could take his pants off completely. He helped you, and threw them across the room. You went back to pay attention to his dick and continued to touch him.

As he was now working his way up your back with his hands, undoing your bra. When he did so, he stopped the kiss again, to look at your body. “Wow, you’re so beautiful y/n…”, he said. By now your pussy was soaking wet and while you continued to pump his dick, he kneaded your boob. Kiss being resumed and as your right hand was on his dick, your left hand worked its way to your clit. Waiting to be touched.

He noticed and pushed your hands away. Both from him, as your clit. You looked confused, but right after, he laid you back down on your back. Giggling softly once more, as he smirked at you. “Let me see all of you.”, he said, then pulling off your lace black panties. That gave you butterflies. You just realised how much you really craved this feeling.

When he pulled your panties off, he hovered over you, completely naked. You blushed, but not out of embarrassment, but because of the adrenaline. He pressed a soft kiss on your lips, then neck, collar bones, then stopped at your boobs for a second as one hand kneaded the left one, and then kissed the right one. Taking his time to suck and pull a little on your nipple.

While he was doing so, his other hand went down to your core. When he reached it, he touched you for the first time, making you gasp a bit. “Let me know if there’s anything you don’t want me to do.”, he said and put his middle finger against your slit. Feeling up and down, being impressed by how wet you were.

You just moaned as you hold onto his shoulders and back. He then left your boobs behind and kissed your stomach, abdomen and finally reached your pussy. He looked up at you to make sure you were still comfortable, but when he did he saw you had your eyes closed in ecstasy and threw your head back against the mattress. He smiled.

He then slowly started kissing you lips, as he swirled his tongue around your clit. That made you grab onto his hair, not wanting him to stop whatever he was doing. He knew you were enjoying yourself, so decided to add more motion into it. He also felt like you deserved more already, at the state of you right this second. So he added a finger into the game. He put it in your pussy, in and out, slowly. You pushed his head closer to you to show you didn’t want him to stop.

A few minutes go by. “Chris, uhhh, please, I want more.”, you said pulling him away from down there. Guiding him back to your face, and kissing him again. “Gosh baby, you really want me, don’t you?”, he said breaking the kiss. “I never wanted anything more. Do you have any protection?”, you asked him.

He smiled and walked over to the bathroom. Admiring his butt as he walked out. When he came back you had secretly turned his LED lights to red, which took him by surprise, but loved it so much. He practically jumped back onto the bed. You both sat up and he opened the condom packet. He put in securely around himself and sat down at the headboard. Helping you once more to sit on his lap.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”, he asked, panting, while already a bit sweaty. You nodded and wanted to sit upwards a bit, so you could take him from below. But you hesitated. “What’s wrong? We don’t have to you know, it’s up to you.”, he said making you look at him. You closed your eyes for a second. Let out a sigh and looked up at him again.

“I’m so sorry, I probably should’ve told you this earlier…”, you said as he looked at you confused. “What is it beautiful?”, he asked and put your hair behind your ear. “I uhhh, I am a…this is my first time…”, you said as you felt a guilt in your stomach, since you didn’t tell him before you were already in this state.

He looked at you very surprised. “What? How is that possible, you had a boyfriend and like, wait, huh?”, he spoke. “Well, you see, my ex wanted to wait until marriage. And before I met him, I was always just too scared to, you know…”, you said softly looking down. He smiled at you, rubbing the sides of your arms, trying to let you know it was okay. “Well I would be honoured.”, he said. You looked up and smiled.

“Really? You don’t mind?”, you asked. “Y/n, I’ve never met anyone like you, and you’re someone I really want to keep close. I know that sounds very strange, fast and weird maybe. But you give me a feeling I’ve never felt before. Not only this lust and desire, but also I feel like I can trust you, and you could understand me. And I’ve never felt that way towards anyone before. It would be my pleasure to take your virginity.”, he said and pulled you closer to him again.

You had butterflies all over your body now, and was amazed by his honest words. Nothing else mattered right now, not the job, not the other people with opinions, nothing. You then wanted to resume and finally feel him inside of you.

But of course the doorbell rang. You screamed a little since you didn’t expect it, then quickly laughed at your own spook. Chris pulled you off of him, and quickly put on his sweat pants. Then opened the door of his bedroom. “Stay here, I’ll be back.”, he said as he went over to the front door.

The second he left you had time to really look at the whole situation clearly. You loved it, but at the same time it made you sick. This wasn’t you. You were kind of taken back by yourself and your previous actions.

You carefully got up, trying not to hurt your ankle and hopped over to the mirror. You looked at yourself and felt miserable. Not because you didn’t want to do this with Chris, cause you really wanted to. But you were disappointed with yourself. You finally had a chance to work and earn money, and what do you do, you go and have sex with the guy who offered you the job.

You wanted Chris, but you needed this job, and needed it to work out. You walked over to the tv, where your dress laid on the floor, quickly picked it up. You put it on, also with your bra and panties, of course. When you were fully dressed again Chris walked back in. “The food is here, come on let’s eat.”, he said, also feeling like the moment lost its appeal.

Part 6

...Masterlist...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

#stray kids #skz #bangchan #skz fake texts #incorrect quotes #skz x reader #scenario #bangchan x reader #faketexts #incorrect kpop quotes

29 notes · View notes

deluluass · 2 days ago

Text

It's all over now, baby blue (3/12)

Ushijima Wakatoshi/Female Reader/Oikawa Tooru

Multi-chapter sequel to "Red, like Blood. Blue, like Love."

General Warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; depictions of post traumatic stress disorder; a lot of negative self-talk (reader pov) Chapter warnings: internalized misogyny (reader pov); recreational drug use (by other characters); sexual content

“Do… you have a soulmate…?”

It was an inane question. You knew that, even before you uttered it. Ask the lady that called soulmates bullshit if she had a soulmate, why don’t you? However, as of this very moment, this woman was no longer just the same one that Hana Misaki had to impress; the one with the important title that went on for forever.

To you, she was now the one to whom you’d committed every single social blunder that featured in your worst nightmares against– stuttering, throwing up, cursing, etcetera. You checked your pants to make sure that they’re still dry. You sighed.

Thank all that is merciful that you haven’t done that yet.

Chief of everything, humiliation and stupidity included, was the current reality that she was now that woman whom you’re sharing a makeshift seat with, your thighs sharing warmth and shoulders leaning against each other– the only thing keeping the other’s unbearable weight from crashing.

“Me? A soulmate?” she muttered.

“A soulmate, yeah.”

“Nope.” The woman turned to you, smiled, before pointing to her eyes. “What would be the point anyway? These old things up here could never be trusted with blues. And other colors.”

Your heart seized. She was still amused, like she was waiting for you to laugh. You didn’t.

“I’m- I’m sorry–” Your hand, in want of other things to do, reached for hers. “That was so insensitive– I mean– I shouldn’t have just assumed that you’re–”

Her smile stretched, eyes becoming more luminous, until all of her teeth showed. This close you could see a chipped front tooth. At the confusion that must have spilled across your face, the woman threw her head back, and then laughter—the kind exhumed from the belly, bounced across the parking lot.

“God forgive me, kid,” she chortled, wiping away tears. “You’re just so easy— look at your face— I’m so sorry—”

You closed your eyes. A deep breath. Patience incarnate.

“Was that a joke?” you sought clarity.

“Yes.”

“Was that a fucking joke?”

“Yes!” she yelped, with a gasp that quickly devolved into sucked in guffaws.

You faced her, your knees knocking together. “Well, it wasn’t funny…!”

“Holy shit, kid! Live a little!” A light slap on your shoulder. “I swear, children these days would get their panties twisted about every fucking thing—”

“That was really not funny! There are people who live with color blindness or- or deficiency and their lives have been very difficult for—”

“Oh my God! Spare me, okay! Stop whining—”

“I’m not whining! Some cultures even go as far as to treat them like outcasts! It’s really not that hard not to make light of their struggles and not to be- to be- a- a dick about it!”

The woman sighed, reigning in her laughter (struggling to, you marked with a frown), then patted the back of your hand. “Alright, alright, let’s cool it?”

You grumbled.

“If it helps your… delicate—“

You rolled your eyes.

“—sensibilities,” she continued, “My cousin from my dad’s side couldn’t tell red and- what was it- green- to save his life.”

“It’s always a cousin,” you scoffed.

“No, it’s true…!” the woman exclaimed, sitting up. She clasped her hands over her knee and pulled it over the other. “Of course, this was back then, you know, people were a lot meaner—”

“More ignorant, you mean.”

“Sure was. There was the usual stuff. Some name calling. Teachers being a cunt. I knew. I grew up with the guy. Got held back when we were eight. Then, when we were fifteen, there was some kid in school who had a retired colonel for a dad— so that made him believe he was hot shit, pulled a prank on dear old cousin. After a game of baseball, while they were changing out of their uniforms, I guess he must’ve grabbed his arm or something. Then, you know… Everyone in that room saw it, but nobody said anything. ‘We’re soulmates,’ the kid told him. He must’ve thought it was funny, ‘cause they were both boys and my cousin was that kid. And then— “

Laughing, she resumed, “The funniest thing happened. Do you know what my cousin said?”

You shook your head.

“Cow dung, he said. Ever the country boy, my cousin. Y’see, he never had any trouble telling blues. Purples were a different story, but not blues. But nobody ever believed him. And red, to him, looked like—”

“Cow dung,” you snickered.

“Cow dung.”

“And then what happened?”

“He punched that little fucker. Got detention, but life was fine. Went as usual. He left when he was twenty. The country, I mean. But it wasn’t just leaving that made him realize…. Growing old made him realize too….”

She looked at you, still smiling, but softer and less like she’s pulling a prank.

“He had his soul glow, contrary to all the assholes who said otherwise. He was— lemme see, about twenty-seven? He got married, too. But not to the same man. Different one. I asked him once, at a family function, why him? You know, not the other one. I even asked him if it was hard, making that choice. He looked at me like I was crazy. And then he said, ‘But it’s common sense! You choose the one who won’t put a pillow over your head when you snore!’ She shook her head. “I don’t know a funnier guy.”

There was a lady bug climbing up your leg. A beautiful, fragile thing; one that could fly off at any moment. You didn’t dare move.

With a gentle nudge, the woman then whispered, like she was consoling you, wiping what’s left of your tears despite having barely raised a hand:

“People live, don’t they, kid?”

Splinters came out of the shower head. It ran down your back as you pressed your head against the wall, sloughing off all debris and muck from this morning’s service. You reached for the knob and turned it higher.

A thousand frozen knives cut through every pore, every wart, every bit of tiny pimple that grew out of the sweat and follicles and dirt.

Any moment now and even your bones would disintegrate and create a whirl pool around the drain.

The bar of soap in your hand diffused into the wet towel as you scrubbed them together. Bar of soap wrapped in towel—like baguette wrapping around fat blocks of ham. Squeeze between two hands and perhaps it would also be good enough to eat. The soap was just as pink as the ham fresh from the walk-in, too.

That’d been what you served the last customer in your shift. His hair was the same color as the imitation mahogany tables. They were actually made of plastic, just varnished to look like genuine wood. Anyway, his hair blended in too well with those tables that you even had the idea of slamming the tray over it.

You didn’t do that, of course. You went to his table and showed him the menu as usual. And when he’d smiled tightly and told you what he’d wanted, you even expected him to tell you, “Thanks, kitten.”

Weird.

His eyes weren’t as brown.

Suds and bubbles dribbled from your torso down to your toes. It slid off your chest, circulating around your breasts, and sinking into the crevices between the folds of your stomach as you scrubbed, slinking the towel around your neck, then pulling both ends together, its junction like a stone against the middle of your throat. You pulled to the point of drowning.

The pressure only eased when you let go, bleary eyed and lashes sopping, and began scouring between your legs. Your fingers clawed at the towel as you used it to get around the fatty thighs, like vultures orbiting above carrion. Each digit was wrinkly and as warm as a corpse’s. They brushed and stabbed and pierced through. You muffled a scream, and then it felt like falling off into a ravine.

Your belly was a cold, hollow pit. You parted your thighs and it salivated like a sick bitch that needed to be put down. You scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed at each pit and crack.

Bits of scabs flaked off where your thighs pulled inward, making way for new ones.

Your skin split open. The soap soaked through. It stung. Maybe it disinfected everything it touched and bleached your bones along the way.

Good.

The shower floor looked like you’d knocked over cranberry juice all over it. Fifty percent fresh fruit, fifty percent sugar. Beloved by the senior regulars.

That’s how you knew, then, that you were clean.

You got off the shower and promptly stormed through your closet. The nicest thing you owned was something from five years ago. Misaki-san told you they had their own make-up people, but you walked into a job interview once with nothing but a lip balm and was then shown the door.

Settling for the wrap-around dress, you sat on your bed and pulled out your work lipstick and blush.

Make-up looked nice on other women, but you looked at the mirror and, with that dress on, saw someone who habitually got on her knees for attention instead.

You pulled out wet wipes from your tote and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed.

The sun was just beginning to set in the horizon, cranberry juice spilling all over the neighborhood, when you finally left your apartment. Your face was bare and the insides of your thighs bit into each other.

And you felt right, going on your way, because you knew then that you were clean.

It took you half a month to sign the contract. It took Wakatoshi a day.

When you finally got together in one room, his legal counsel on one side and yours, provided by the company, on the other, all that you had asked for was to make it clear— in bold, legible print— that you “will not be required to attend or make an appearance at any game involving, or of the interest of Ushijima Wakatoshi and other affiliated organizations, for public viewing or otherwise.”

Much talk went on for another week, or so Misaki-san had informed him. The contract was only granted your signature when that condition had been included in it.

Practice went on as usual. The Schweiden Adlers won a couple more games at the tail end of the season. Misaki-san had told him then, quite randomly, that you worked for a popular family restaurant, and that perhaps you would not mind a message or two, but it wasn’t anywhere within Wakatoshi’s inclination either to disrupt the day-to-day living of a person who had a far more demanding job than he did.

Neither one of you heard from the other, nor seen hide nor hair. Not until today.

“Excited?” Brandon’s voice popped in his ear. “You lovebirds haven’t seen each other in a while. Don’t get emotional. ‘Kay, big guy?”

His manager patted his chest before he went away.

From inside the café, he saw you descend out of the large van where you, according to Misaki-san, had gone to have your make-up and wardrobe fixed. They changed you out of the dress you came in with to another that stopped an inch above your knees.

The afternoon sun traced a blinding outline around you as you walked in. Your entrance disturbed the chimes above the door— tiny bells tied to ruby strings giggled lightly.

You greeted the staff with a soft ‘hello’, and your lips glittered as you gave Wakatoshi a faint, cautious smile.

The place was something out of a fairy tale book. The ones with boards for pages and watercolor illustrations of cottages hidden in forests. It was tucked somewhere along a cobbled path miles away from the main road.

Barely anyone walked by.

Misaki-san had only known about it because she was acquainted with its owner, or at least familiar enough to ask about the well-being of her sister without much preamble or niceties. You hadn’t even been aware that a place like this existed in the city. One look and one might think that it’s one of those spots that drove up the price of the buildings within its vicinity. If not that then the product of it.

But, no. Its quaint novelty did not conceal anything calculated. It just was.

The stones that made up its roof was overgrown with moss. Its chimney was in the same state. The brick walls showed signs of wear and tear. And being in it was like staying for far too long inside a dream, or a memory that you knew at the very back of your brain had never existed.

You were seated by the window. Purple wisterias flowed along the café’s gutter and cascaded against the glass like waterfalls. Everything about this place conveyed that it was, among other things, an heirloom, passed down with an unapologetically haphazard sort of care typically found among large families. There wasn’t a corner not occupied by black and white portraits, or colored ones taken in water and amusement parks, and bookshelves with mangas and novels that had creased spines. A place that had seen one too many daughters for it to be mistaken as some pastiche of a café designed to be a selfie studio— exactly how your group treated it at the very moment.

In front of you, Ushijima was being directed by the photographer, while the owner herself set a glass of matcha latte beside the cheese cake platter. With that, the tableaux of sweet coziness were complete.

“Then— cover your face with the phone— not too close—"

They didn’t have any problems making you do that pose. You’ve seen it countless times among the young couples at the restaurant. One holds the phone over their face, taking a picture of their sweetheart. The other mimics it, taking a picture of their sweetheart. Their cameras are pointed towards each other, so when they finally share it for everyone to see, it would have been as if they’d said, “I’ve been found. How about you?”

Ushijima, however, must not have gotten the memo for the past…six years. He seemed to not understand that the phone had to be far enough to create an illusion that it’s blocking his entire face, but that he also had to position his body in a way that made the whole thing look like he wasn’t trying at all, and not like some old man struggling to decipher what’s on his screen.

The goal today was to tease: post images that whispered coquettishly, rather than ones that proclaimed with its whole chest.

“I think ‘soft launching’ is what people call it these days,” Misaki-san said.

The photographer, with silent permission, took Ushijima’s wrist— the one with the phone, one last time to communicate to him exactly where his hands should be, like a store manager posing a tall, overly tall, and flawless mannequin. Then, he draped his elbow over the edge of the table, as he was instructed to splay his long, muscular legs a tad. “Right! You got it, Ushiwaka! Hold that for me, please!” the photographer remarked.

You couldn’t help but wonder, as you watched him, if it was possible that Ushijima Wakatoshi was as much of a stranger to… dating, as you were. What you knew, you learned via osmosis. How much did he know? His breadth of knowledge seemed like a narrow one.

That conjecture, however, was immediately chucked away.

I mean. Just look at the guy.

With just a simple, brown-ish gray long-sleeved polo shirt hanging slackly over his broad frame, the buttons on top come undone, along with loose-fitting jeans, and his hair parted cleanly, artlessly in the middle— he was lethal enough to stop a busy street; or an oncoming traffic to a screeching halt.

You know. It was happening now.

People went on their merry way when it was you doing that. You were merely another beating flesh doing its job by the side, but with him, the mundane act of putting a phone over one’s face seemed more like a once in a decade astronomical event.

Everyone in the café had to drop whatever they were doing just to…see. Even when some of them had the view of the phone blocking his face.

It couldn’t be possible. Not him.

If he were like you, then what a tragedy, isn’t it? Someone as beautiful and desirable and accomplished as him deserved an equal on his first foray into intimacy. What sin did he commit in his previous life to be destined to a basket case?

What a relief that none of this was real.

“Ushiwaka, please, don’t move!”

The giant apologized under his breath because, apparently, you realized as you blinked, that he had turned his head to look at you.

Oh, no. Hold on. Not just look, actually.

He was watching, too.

You snatched the latte off the table and sipped, averting your eyes as they carried on. It was nice. Not too sweet. And once that was over, the photographer proceeded to capture the ensemble of caffeine and pastries between the two of you. He and Misaki-chan moved fleetly yet assiduously, like a ship captain and her second mate, discussing angles, lightings, and intent. “Do they look good here?” “I think this one looks busy” “Let’s stick to the mood board for now” etc. etc.

On the other hand, you and Ushijima were more akin to the ship’s bow and stern, as far away as you could get from one another. Not physically, though. You remained sharing the same table: Ushijima taking a bite out of a tart and you, sipping— as chatty and familiar as strangers forced by chance to breathe in the same lift. The two of you only got up to move, and acknowledge each other’s presence after the past couple of hours, when you’d been told to go to the café’s powder room, captain and second following behind.

Ushijima let you in first, opening the door for you. He had to duck to get inside that nook of a space. In there, the wallpaper was a muted shade of peach, doodles of rabbits in frilly dresses scattered about. The shelves surrounding the vanity were stacked with tchotchkes: porcelain kittens licking their paws, wicker baskets filled with buttons and marbles, and enamel portraits of beautiful women in gowns and ceremonial garbs and feathered hats.

It would’ve all been very comforting, a perfect, warmly lit spot for a prey animal to hide in, had it not been for the fact that you could practically feel Ushijima right against your back.

“For this one, we’d like to ask you to recreate—” From outside the room, they showed you an image of a couple in front of a bathroom mirror. The man was behind her, chin resting on her head and arms wrapped around her waist, while the woman held the phone. Again, both of their faces were obstructed. “Easy, right?”

It was your task to take the picture for the both of you. Maybe that’s why they thought that this’d be a breeze. You took the phone with a damp hand. He stepped closer and your heart sprinted. You wanted to close your eyes, but that wouldn’t be helpful. Some of the tiny kittens had fracture on their eyes, likely the result of being dropped by tiny, grubby hands. They smiled at you. ‘See,’ they tee-heed, ‘even broken things can manage to be cute.’ Then—

“Would it be alright to skip this?” Ushijima’s voice came rumbling.

Misaki-san, who leaned against the door frame, stood up in alarm. “O-Of course…!”

“Yeah, this does feel a bit…much,” the photographer agreed. “We can do this one some other time, Misaki-san.”

They decided to move on to the next and final location.

Ushijima waited for you to walk out first, his large hand propped above the door and keeping it from shutting on its own. You passed through with a quiet thank you, and as you did, the smell of fresh laundry and yuzu lemons wafted from above you. Bright and sparkly like a summer’s day. Dandelion fluffs waltzing with the wind.

Your fingers ached for calloused warmth.

You needed to peel off your skin.

The way to the flower shop that Misaki-san had called ahead for this shoot was just as whimsical as the café, another cobbled hill with steps made for teacup dogs, or, perhaps, elves. You couldn’t help but drag your feet climbing up, admiring the way tufts of Bermuda and wildflowers bloomed through the cracks, at the back of the trail with Ushijima behind you. A small, man-made creek ran down the side.

For just this one day, just this moment, the world felt light on your shoulders. You haven’t had one of these in a while. You would have hopped if it did not make you look all the more insane. Giggled, too. All that sugar must have finally rushed through your system.

The photographer turned around. Although you were losing daylight, with a perky tone, he suddenly yelled, “Wait, miss!”

He pointed his camera at you. “This is a great shot! Can you look down a bit? Yes, thank you. This’ll make a beautiful candid photo, Misaki-san! Something her soulmate would’ve taken of her while they’re— uh…”

The man laughed. “Please, can you move out of the frame, er, Ushiwaka?” he requested, grinning impishly.

You looked back.

It took Ushijima a second to understand that he was being spoken to. Those sharp, penetrating eyes were— and maybe you were seeing things— soft, like dewy leaves after a heavy rain. And they were turned right at—

He’s tired. That must be it. He’d just won a game, too.

“Ah,” the giant muttered. “Apologies.” He climbed ahead of you.

The rest of the afternoon flew by.

By the end of it, Misaki-san’s team had accumulated photos that ranged from delectable to charming. The shot of the food was your favorite. The photographer had done an incredible job. You hoped, with the amount of attention that you were told this’d receive, that the café would garner the same. Maybe more. All of this would have been worthwhile then, you thought.

You were to upload most of the pictures from the café (at Misaki-san’s behest, of course) using your old account (the only one you had), which you mostly (only) opened to promote the restaurant’s special holiday group meals. Misaki-san didn’t see the problem with that. She said it would help make your pictures look organic.

The ones taken outside were to be posted on Ushijima’s account (that, upon seeing, you didn’t think the man even knew the password to). Your pictures would be a shock among still life images of volleyballs, courts, trophies, shoes, and products, for sure. The rare, sedate photos of other human beings: teammates, coaches, Ushijima flying in the air, Ushijima receiving an award, will be disturbed by you—

On the hill, looking at flowers like you couldn’t do any wrong.

Crouched down to the pavement, beckoning a stray cat to come to you.

Holding a bouquet of red tulips— “Symbols of passion, loyalty, and everlasting love,” the florist had said— their lush buds smothering half of your face.

It wasn’t until late in the evening when the company started showing signs of inebriation.

Brandon came to the izakaya after the shoot, as it was only a block away from where he had his appointment early in the afternoon. He, too, was drunk. And if the way Misaki-san didn’t mind playing bekuhai with him, then that meant, maybe, that so was she.

Her entire team, after all, was celebrating the successful first phase of their project. Even the ones who couldn’t come with them earlier showed up just for this party. They earned it, Wakatoshi thought, as he watched their group clap and sing, “The drunken god is an honest god! Please point out the beautiful one! Hey, point it out!”

The spinning top on the table stopped, pointing towards Misaki-san. The table erupted in fists and cackles.

“Ah, Tengu, Tengu! You’re so unlucky, Misaki-chan!”

They poured sake into the ceramic goblin cup, the largest one of the three, and cheered as she tossed it back. And even with all that whooping and yowling, Wakatoshi could still hear you chuckle behind your hand.

The two of you were at the edge of the long table, once again, facing each other. Your glass of mocktail was half-full and what little food you’d asked for was already gone. Ushijima had only one glass of beer and no more. He ordered another plate of gyoza.

“Hey, everyone!” Misaki-san’s assistant, if his memory served him right, shouted from the hallway. “The karaoke upstairs is empty!”

The group got on their feet like the floor had caught up in flames. “C’mon!” Misaki-san exclaimed his way, just as she did when they’d put down the bekuhai set on the table.

He chewed, then swallowed to say, “No, thank you—”

“—I’m okay right here...!”

He looked at you. You looked at him. Misaki-san looked at the both of you, then, with her whole face aflush, beamed.

“Okie-dokie!” Misaki-san’s thumb and index formed an O, three fingers up. From behind her, Brandon wiggled his brows at Wakatoshi as he slid out of the room. “We’ll leave you to it! Have fun!”

It got quiet, then. The TV by the bar droned on with its weather report. The few patrons around their table ate alone, or in pairs, conversing in mutters. Or not at all.

“Ushijima-san,”

You spoke.

To him.

Wakatoshi’s chopsticks paused from picking, as he shifted his attention to you.

“You can go anytime if you want to,” you muttered.

He dipped the gyoza in sauce. “I don’t want to,” he replied, admittedly puzzled.

“O-Oh. I didn’t mean, like, go go. I meant, go, join the karaoke upstairs, with Misaki-san and the others. Y-you can just go…if ever…you feel like it.”

“I understand.” He blinked. “So should you.”

“R-right.”

A beat. You finally plucked one gyoza from the plate.

Somebody did tell Wakatoshi once that conversations one does not wish to have are best buffered by food. One would have no recourse but to eat, just to avoid speaking. He watched, at ease, as your face brightened, humming discreetly when you nibbled.

“You don’t have to talk to me.”

You covered your mouth. “I’m sorry?” you chewed.

“I meant to say,” he said, “you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to.”

“I- I see. Um.” You gulped, then smacked your lips. “You also don’t have to. If you don’t want to.”

Your eyes were everywhere but on him as you told him that. You took another morsel as his phone piped up.

A text. “Takl 2 he rr !!!1!!! 111111 she looks LONELEY USHWAIKA,” it said.

“Many people beg me to,” Wakatoshi huffed, closing his phone. That was not necessary.

“Brandon-san?” you glanced to his phone, then winced. “Sorry.”

Wakatoshi placed his chopsticks to the side. This way, with nobody and nothing else demanding you to listen, he had all the freedom to study you as you were. All his own. It called to mind the turtle that their classroom once had, back in kindergarten. He’d forgotten what they’d named it, but it retreated to its shell every time he got close too.

He wondered what the difference was, between then and now. You did not have this reaction to him the first time you’d met. You hadn’t known who he was at that time. Perhaps it was the knowing that induced this. Besides, it wasn’t his place to compare. Then and now held minute differences for Wakatoshi too: before he’d learned your name and what you could possibly mean, and after.

Things seemed… muddled now, somehow. Like the point where colors are mixing together before they can transform into another hue.

“Do you mean that?” Wakatoshi crossed his arms together. He leaned back into the chair.

The bead of sweat that’d gathered on your forehead went to the shell of your ear. You stared back up at him, mouth agape. “Excuse…me…?”

“Why are you sorry?”

“N-no, no, I was just—” You dropped your chopsticks. “It was just an expression. I was only—"

You swallowed, then dropped your gaze. You sighed. “I am. Sorry. I do feel that I’ve been…Look, dude, can we talk about something else?”

His brow lifted. You’d raised your tone. That was new. “We don’t have to,” he reminded you. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“Right. Sorry.”

There it was again. Wakatoshi frowned, but before he could say something back, the news that had been a white noise in the background became one that his ears could recognize in his sleep.

Shrill whistle, followed by a vociferous crowd. He turned to the screen. The Sendai Frogs were playing against the Tamaden Elephants. Wakatoshi tried to recall the date today. He must’ve forgotten. The camera panned to a blonde player wiping his glasses. “Folks, we have just entered the second set and the game is already this tense!” the commentator boomed. “No one is letting up! Especially Tsukishima over there! Talk about drive, eh, Miyake-san?”

Wakatoshi could hear Tendou cackling somewhere.

No doubt he’s joyous to see the blocker in a pinch, all the while impatient to see him overcome.

“Do you know them?”

He almost didn’t hear. Not just because Wakatoshi had been too engrossed, but also that you’d asked so bashfully. Again, you barely met his gaze when he looked at you. Nevertheless, at the very least, Wakatoshi was no longer confounded. Not as he’d been before.

So you did want to speak to him.

“Yes,” Wakatoshi said.

“Like, personally?”

“Yes.”

“Th-That was stupid of me, of course you do, sorry—"

“Stop apologizing.”

“So- I just thought…I might as well talk to you about this.” You gave him a smile that didn’t reach your cheeks, eyes downcast. “Volleyball, you know. It being our common interest and all—"

“It’s not.” Wakatoshi felt the words deep in his throat. That was untrue. You did not care for it. Perhaps even averse to it. There wasn’t a need to lie for something as hollow and flimsy as keeping the conversation going. “And we don’t have to talk about it.”

You stared, face dimming. “Got it,” you mumbled, before taking the last gyoza on the plate.

It seemed that the more he talked to you, the easier it was getting for Wakatoshi to recognize the tells: the way your features sink, lashes flickering as if trying to get dirt out, the inflection in your voice breaking like fine china. He knew then that his response had brought about a sort of dejection. The last thing that he liked seeing on your face, he realized. Wakatoshi inched closer to the table.

He could watch a recording of the game tomorrow.

Shearing the edges off of his tone, Wakatoshi began, “Please forgive me. I wanted to say that I’m more than capable of conversing about other things. Not just volleyball.”

Wakatoshi had expected that that would soothe you, having expressed that he’s not being hostile as people often thought he was. It usually did the job in his experience. After explaining himself, he’d learned that most people can be quite forgiving.

What he did not expect was for you to laugh.

After that pause that looked to Wakatoshi like you’re trying to work out what he said, you suddenly broke into a snort, then slapped your hands over your mouth, then laughed.

“What?” Wakatoshi demanded.

“S-sorry-“ You snickered, coughing and shaking your head. He pushed a glass of water towards you. “T-Thank you- it’s just you- dude, you looked like you were having the worst time of your life saying that.”

He should start getting used to surprises when he’s with you, Wakatoshi noted.

You looked like you were having the worst time of your life saying that.

Did he really? He hadn’t noticed. Nor did he feel like it. He couldn’t help but touch his face.

“I’m sorry,” Wakatoshi murmured.

“Stop apologizing,” you grinned.

His brows furrowed. He hadn’t known you were this…puckish.

“I think I get it, though,” you sighed, slumping on your chair. “Maybe. I could be wrong, but you love it, don’t you?”

You looked up at the screen. He followed you. The Sendai Frogs had won the second set. “More than anything in this world,” you continued. “Everything else must be very boring to you.”

Love.

Many people had called what he’d felt towards volleyball in a myriad of ways. “Ma’am, volleyball makes Wakatoshi happy,” his father had supplicated to his grandmother when he was young. “You only enjoy playing volleyball!” the girl he’d tried dating when he was fourteen had cried. From then on it generally oscillated between dedicated and obsessed.

But never loved.

It wasn’t a word that he— nor other people in his life, really— would ever throw around so casually, either. It had never even crossed his mind. You weren’t just throwing it around, though, weren’t you?

You’d meant that.

Not like earlier. This time you’d looked at him in the eye, and you smiled at him like you’d been there with him when he’s alone, on the rare occasions after a lost game, pondering methodically how he could make it up to his team in the next.

Wakatoshi could only nod.

“I’m saying you don’t have to force yourself.” You picked up your neglected mocktail. “I’m not completely ignorant about volleyball. I don’t know much, but I know some things. Like, that—” Gesturing towards the game, “Was their libero doing an underhand serve.”

He glanced at the screen, then to you. “That was an overhead serve.”

“Was it?” You pursed your lips.

“Yes.”

“And was he their libero?”

“No.”

“I see. Not their libero, huh.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure. Liberos wear a different jersey from their teammates.”

“Right, I remember tha— Ouh! The ball was in!”

“It was out,” he informed.

“But the referee went…” You put both arms forward.

Wakatoshi mimicked and raised his hands to his face, palm inwards. “It was out.”

“Hm.” You suddenly perked up. “That one, I know. That’s their setter.”

Sure enough, it was Hirabayashi, Sendai’s setter, that had tossed the ball to Koganegawa. A rally ensued.

“That was a dump!”

The crowd roared as Tamaden’s blockers dove to the floor. Wakatoshi almost rankled at the sight, if not only for…

“What a powerful jump serve,” you said, almost to yourself. But, then, your commentary halted completely when the camera zoomed in on Sendai’s opposite hitter.

It’s as if all your interest in the game had died, and with it all the light and mirth that had set you aglow in the past couple of minutes.

“Another player that’s been the talk of the town,” the commentator supplied. “A dark horse, one might even say. Not as illustrious as his teammate Tsukishima, whose had an impressive high school career, but don’t you underestimate this guy! Kyotani Kentaro is one tough nut!”

Wakatoshi hadn’t had the opportunity to play against him, but he could recognize the hitter from Aoba Johsai’s game against Karasuno, all those years ago.

You looked back down at the table, but having nothing to distract you with, settled for feeding your teeth with the blunt nail on your thumb. You gnashed and tore. Wakatoshi tempered the instinct to pull your hand away.

That would be impolite, Wakatoshi reminded himself.

He contented himself with observing you.

A lack of rudimentary knowledge about volleyball, as if all that you’d been made aware of were things that had to do with the roles and skills of the setter. There’s also that reaction.

The muddled colors swirled, melting into each other, once a muddied shade now becoming more distinct— something so unlike what it was, but unequivocally itself.

But not yet.

“Do you dislike volleyball?” he asked, jolting you back to him.

You discarded your nails back to your lap, before looking at Wakatoshi like you’d been scandalized by your behavior. He could make out the beginnings of an apology on your face, which you wrangled back with a grimace. How could he have ever thought you to be a mystery?

Everything is right there for him to see, isn’t it?

“Not- Not really… I don’t give off that impression, do I? Oh, God. It’s okay,” you prattled. “It’s okay. Really. I can’t judge. Clearly, I still have a lot to learn.” A frail chuckle.

“Do you want to?”

Your forehead creased. “Learn? To play? From you? As in, learn how to play? From you?”

Wakatoshi nodded through it all.

You barked, all smiles.

“That is so generous, Mister Olympic MVP, but no! Are you insane?!” you giggled.

He shrugged. He tried.

“Why not?”

You swallowed. The light snuffed out. In a blink.

“…Got hit by a ball in high school,” you lied. “Square in the face. Brings back bad memories. I wouldn’t wanna embarrass myself like that…again. Especially not in front of you.”

The thousand-yard stare returned with vengeance.

Where do you go when you do that? And how do you do it so easily? Are you subjected to this capricious maelstrom that comes to pull you away without your consent? Or is it just that you’ve always been there— in that place that even Wakatoshi cannot reach?

Something like this happened to him once, when he’d finally been prepared enough to hike Orla Perć. He was halfway to climbing the peak, but then what was once a placidly sunny day became abruptly beset by a storm that had engulfed the trail, strong enough to knock him off where he’d been hanging. Worse, it had stolen the few slants of light that guided Wakatoshi to his destination.

Below him was a steep drop, and behind him only darkness.

Wakatoshi had not known the cold in that way before.

All he could think then, with his hands gripping the metal rungs, was that regardless if the storm had been there to stay, regardless if the few drops of sun had disappeared forever, Wakatoshi had no other choice but to drag himself out of there, and into the light— bleeding, if he had to.

And so, he thought the same now, looking at you.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

The shutters blew open. “I- Ushijima-san- I don’t…follow- I…”

Neither of you said anything more after that. However:

“…You make me nervous,” you whispered.

Wakatoshi breathed in, then nodded. “Many people have said the same thing.”

You huffed, smirking. “I believe that.”

“I’ve heard our opposite hitter from my last team once say about me that—” Wakatoshi tipped his head back in an effort to conjure the words front of his mind. You waited patiently, hanging on. “He said, ‘Pan Ushijima may not be the anti-Christ—”

Both your eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“—But I would not hang out with him willingly.”

You pressed your eyes shut, looking as if you’re about to sneeze. “Oh my God?”

“And not even with a gun to my head,” he continued, even when you’re already reduced to convulsions on the table. “Apparently I always made him feel like he’s never left the court.” Which, to this day, Wakatoshi still did not find the problem with.

That was lost on you, however, as it seemed that you’d been robbed of the ability to form a coherent sentence. Your shaking back was accompanied by shrill cackling that soon became a soundless, breathless thing. It made Wakatoshi fear that you might be on the verge of a cardiac event, but rather than asking if you were okay, or if you needed help, or water (again), he found himself smiling along instead.

Wakatoshi did not have the heart nor the desire to interrupt the sound. Although neither melodious nor the kind his grandmother would call appropriate for a lady, it was pleasant all the same.

It meant that you were here, with him.

“S-sorry, that was just so mean!” you gasped. “Why would he say that oh my god,” you snorted. Wakatoshi nodded. Indeed. “For what it’s worth, I- I think I’d hang out with you willingly, Ushijima-san, oh my god that was still so mean though!”

You laughed. Wakatoshi tilted his head slightly, pensively, looking at you. Watching.

“You think?” he pushed.

You stopped. Your mouth closed and opened like a fish. “Oh, um- yeah- you know what I mean-“ You touched both of your cheeks. He’d bet that if he held your face in his hands that it’d feel like a fresh cup of coffee. Wouldn’t that be something?

“I just think- now, you know, that we’ve- that we are speaking- like this- not like before- sor- I think that maybe- you’re cool? I don’t know. I think. Which is not to say that you’re not, Ushijima-san. All I’m saying is I’d do this again even if Misaki-san didn’t ask us to…”

You were already panting. “…I think.”

Wakatoshi smiled. “I would too. I would like to hang out with you again, please.”

For a second, he’d thought he’d said the wrong thing. You just stared at him as if he weren’t real. Then, your expression crumpled, a misty film over your eyes, and it was like your toes had been stepped on and the person who’d done it didn’t bother apologizing.

He felt the pain shoot up to his chest like it’d been his own.

“That—” you snarled, grinning ruefully, “is something I have not heard in a very long time.”

You grabbed your mocktail and chugged, finishing it, before swiping away its traces with the back of your hand. You looked up, keeping your tears unshed, then exhaled.

“Thank you, Ushijima-san, for saying that,” you croaked.

Simple honesty did not warrant such a reaction, but Wakatoshi chose not to say that. As such:

“I’ve been hit on the face too,” Wakatoshi told you at length. “Only that one time. In the middle of a game.”

You sat up, blinking. “No way?”

“Yes. I was ten. I bled and I had to run to the infirmary right after.”

Your eyes narrowed. “After you bled or after the game?”

“After the game,” he clarified. “I had to make the point.”

“What?!”

The couple nearest to the table turned to you, to whom both of you regretfully bowed your heads to. You leaned towards him. Wakatoshi did the same.

“What?” you continued, hushed this time. “So you played while bleeding?”

He nodded. He could see all the blemishes this close.

“That’s crazy!”

“I suppose,” he muttered. “It wasn’t a smart decision. I made a mess on the court.”

You gawked as if Wakatoshi had beheaded a man in front of you.

“Of course you did!” you cried.

“My mother had the same reaction,” Wakatoshi recalled. That was the first time he’d seen his mother yell at someone other than his father. He still owed a great deal to his coach for bearing it. “She was deeply cross with me.”

“I would be too! I can’t believe your coach forced you to play in that state! That’s very irresponsible.”

You shook your head and Wakatoshi wanted to pinch your cheeks.

“No one can force me to do anything,” he said. “I refused to leave the court.”

“What…” Your smile hung on your lips. “You were still a kid, you know?”

That was true. However, “I was also team captain.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” You nodded emphatically.

“But,” Wakatoshi conceded. “You’re right. That was irresponsible. And it wouldn’t happen now. I wouldn’t be allowed to.” It was reasonable. It was also, in Wakatoshi’s heart of hearts, quite annoying.

You chuckled, gazing at him knowingly. “Of course.”

Silence dawned, but not the kind that you didn’t know what to do with. Silence shared between the two of you, Wakatoshi had realized, was cushy enough to lean into.

“Were you close with your mom?” you asked after a beat.

He considered the question for a minute. “No,” he finally answered. “She didn’t like me very much. Although I believe she tolerates me now.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, delicate yet firm.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m sorry anyway.”

“How about you?” Wakatoshi asked this time, and was rewarded for it with a sure and even a tiny bit defiant smile, as if you were daring him to oppose you. He came to the conclusion that he liked you best like this.

“Yes,” you avowed. “Well, I like to think we are. She cares for me even after all the trouble I’ve brought her, so there’s that at least.”

Wakatoshi would’ve been more than happy to ask some more— Are you an only child? Yes, he would assume by the way your eyes lingered at the family pictures back at the café; Do you like your father? He couldn’t be sure, but he’d readily say that he does; Doesn’t alcohol suck? Yes, absolutely, he’d agree with you; Would you like to have a family of your own? — but the clambering return of Misaki-san’s party had taken the opportunity from him.

Both of you left to catch those who’d almost tripped on their way to the table. Brandon was being carried by two men whom Wakatoshi had never met before. They handed him to Wakatoshi with a winded thank you.

“Maaaaaan! You kiddies shoulda been there!” Misaki-san hiccuped as she tackled you into a hug. “We sang our hearts out! You are always gonna be my love! Itsuka-” Her assistant pulled her away from you, followed by an outburst of apologies. Hamasaki-san, who was tasked to drive the large team van, seemed to be the only one who’d stayed sober. The man only shook his head and laughed as he lugged his traipsing co-workers out of the restaurant.

The entire company made a trail of drunken, rambunctious Utada Hikaru songs towards the parking lot.

With Brandon in his arms, Wakatoshi quickly retrieved his manager’s car keys in his (slightly moist) back pocket. He laid him at the back of his car and started the engine. You knelt to the floor to pick up some dropped wallets and makeup bottles, while Hamasaki-san set the team to rights inside the van. Wakatoshi went to you to help.

He picked up a watch, then another. You faced each other as you closed some loose caps, before placing them inside a bag that had his sponsor’s logo on it. He slipped his finds there.

“Being soulmates with me must be overwhelming.”

You paused, staring at him. “Not…really…” you lied, again.

But you just looked at each other and exchanged stifled chuckles.

“May I ask you something?” he then murmured.

“Hm?”

A few coins fell from your hands.

Wakatoshi retrieved them for you.

“Why did you run?”

He was looming over you, even as both of you were on your knees. This was how it must’ve been, that first time, but you’d just been too out of it to even be conscious of that. But his presence wasn’t as it was, wasn’t it? A mystery, how far a brief conversation can take two strangers.

It was no longer as fleeting and dream-like as the first, nor as daunting as the second and third.

Wakatoshi Ushijima felt more…tangible now.

There was a distance between the two of you, but you feel every one of his breaths like you’re the one catching them, wrapped in a blanket of yuzu lemons.

Why did you run?

Ushijima waited for your answer.

You knew you shouldn’t have done that earlier, opened a conversation like that. Dumb dummy. Was his smile, watching that game, really that striking? Like you were looking at a different person?

Really? Really, little girl?

Now look at what you’ve done. What will you tell him, huh? Not even the answer closest to the truth would sound believable from your mouth.

Dummy.

“You don’t have to answer,” he said as he put another a compact powder in the bag.

“No…!” Your hand trembled when you pulled at his sleeve. “S-sorry.” You let go.

You didn’t answer, in the end. Instead, you asked, “What did it feel like for you, the first time it happened? When our palms…”

Unlike you, it didn’t take him a meltdown to give a reply. “Weird,” he answered. “I’d long believed that it was impossible for me. So it was a shock when it finally happened. You?”

You looked up at him.

He wasn’t so bad: you’d thought that earlier. You were still thinking it now.

Wakatoshi Ushijima was an unscalable a tower as ever, perhaps not even years of acquaintanceship would change that for folks such as yourself. But you’d accepted now that he was also the type to pull a woman whom he didn’t know from a can of paint out of the hell residing in her mind; the one to say “You did well” and the one to give a forthright sort of kindness without asking for anything in return.

This unscalable tower, who’d bled from his nose when he was ten because he couldn’t leave his volleyball team without winning first.

So, would it be so bad?

“I was…” you choked. “I felt…” You breathed in. “…scared.”

You kept your head down as you got up, dusting off your dress, before pulling at the bag’s drawstrings. When you met his eyes, he had already been there expecting you, still on his knees. You haven’t watched any of his games yet, had never seen him play, but this must be how he looks at his opponents when he does.

It’s a wonder how anybody can survive this.

Wakatoshi stood, gazing down at you, as he handed you something with a closed fist. Something pink and translucent peeked through his thumb; it was the shimmery gloss they’d used on you.

You opened your palm for him. His warm, calloused fingers brushed forked and dashed lines and you’d felt like crying again. You almost caught them with your own.

He stepped forward, not too close, but he leaned just enough for you to hear.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he told you as he took the hefty bag from your hand.

Ushijima walked with you to the van, then bowed and thanked the team, leaving the bag inside the compartment. You watched him through the rearview mirror, watching the car leave, as you mulled over what he’d said.

Did he mean that you didn’t have to be scared anymore because he’s really not as scary as he seems? Or was it that you didn’t have to be anymore now that he’s here?

Was it a promise? Or a threat?

The line between the two seemed to blur with someone like Ushijima.

As soon as you got home, you’d called your mother to share about the things that’d happened at the shoot, how the people treated you (They were all very nice, mama!), how Ushijima had been (He was…nice, too!), what you’d done (We just took some pictures, then had a dinner party), and other gossip here and there (Did you know they have people in their teams who are dating but they’re not allowed to be public about it?). Finally, she asked you if you had fun.

You said yes, meaning it.

She also asked how you felt now that this wonderful and romantic thing was finally happening to you, as she’d always hoped it would. And you’d only said that you felt happy, keeping the other bit to yourself for fear that she might worry about you again.

Although you really did want to say it, that something much more miraculous than a soul glow had occurred, because it'd felt that, after all these years, like you had finally made a friend.

The sweltering heat melted Wakatoshi’s skin and clung to his shirt. Bass imploded under his feet, thumping an unending rhythm as he weaved his way out of the pack of swaying bodies.

Ahead, Nikola-san had already reached the couch where Matias Ruiz and his teammates were waiting. They embraced and clapped each other’s backs. A stark contrast to two days ago when they had been at each other’s throats on the court, crying foul and cursing at the referee.

The two had played together in an international league when Wakatoshi was still an amateur, and he could see them calling each other brother even through the pulsating kaleidoscope that engulfed the spacious room.

He picked up his pace, gingerly pushing the ones who’d knocked into him out of his way, apologizing even though Wakatoshi knew he couldn’t be heard among the din.

“Hey! Asshole!” An American accent. Wakatoshi looked down to see a woman. “Watch where you’re go—”

The woman seemed to have forgotten what she was about to say, gaping at him. He didn’t have the time to wait for it. The renowned outside hitter called out his name, and Wakatoshi speedily escaped the labyrinthine crowd.

Matias and Nikola-san flanked him, shaking him by the shoulders.

“Fédération Internationale de Volleyball’s Most Valuable Player of the Year!” they declared.

The men whistled, raising their glasses. “Salud!”

Andrzej, Janek, and Daniel were already sprawled on the couch. Their youngest grinned, yelling.

“…flacha!” he caught from Janek.

Nikola-san ruffled the boy’s hair, to the entire couch’s amusement, before offering a shot to Wakatoshi. He shook his head.

“Co tam?” the older man asked, scrunching his face when Wakatoshi answered.

“Git,” Wakatoshi repeated. Nikola-san nodded, then shoved the tiny glass to their middle blocker. Daniel accepted it gleefully.

Beside his teammates were Valentin Paez and Martin Cufré. The rest of them stood up to join the dance floor, while the others were engaged in arm wrestling. The only one missing was—

“Chabón!” Wakatoshi stooped under the sudden onslaught of Federico Muñoz’s arm. “Buenos Aires ni irasshaimase!”

Wakatoshi bowed slightly.

“The fool is drunk, please excuse him, Ushijima-san!” Matias hooted with laughter.

“Tomé bocha…birra….!" he caught from the intoxicated libero, who’d grinned at the men on the couch. Then, to him, “You gave us hell out there, brother! You are a… How do you say… tensai!”

He patted Wakatoshi’s chest and proceeded to slump on the low glass table in the middle.

Just behind the couch was a fire exit. Wakatoshi was filled with gratitude seeing it. He excused himself from his team.

The night air welcomed him in its cool bosom. He welcomed the sound of the muted honking of cars below, inhaling, but a trace of musk and a familiar burning smell prompted Wakatoshi to halt, and turn around.

Aleksander, a fellow opposite hitter, was there, leaning against the railing, head to the starless sky. Standing next to him was Klemens, who had something pinched between his fingers. Its end glowed and emitted smoke.

“Pan Ushijima,” Aleksander sing-songed, blowing out a cloud.

Klemens followed, smiling dazedly. "Zioło?” He extended the thin roll to Ushijima.

It was snatched by Aleksander, who’d then spat, “The MVP is too good for smoking. Winner like him, does not do things… such as this.”

Yet another thing he’d gotten wrong about him.

“I have,” Wakatoshi explained. During his stay in America. His roommate had a habit, and he was quite adamant that Wakatoshi would take well to it, but, “It only made me hungry and unproductive.”

Aleksander sneered. “Idiota.” Klemens, red eyes drooping, glanced to Wakatoshi, and was about to reprimand the taller blonde, but:

“Excuse me, señor.” They all turned back to the door. “What a mean thing to say to your teammate.”

Nahuel Caneo addressed them with a smile, a bottle in each hand. He bowed briefly to Wakatoshi.

Wakatoshi bowed back.

His teammates, clearly perturbed by his presence, left in haste. Aleksander, however, grumbled along the way. Wakatoshi had never seen an angrier man who’d indulged in the purportedly calming drug. Fascinating.

“You must forgive him,” Nahuel told Wakatoshi as the door shut close.

He looked at him. “They haven’t harmed me.”

Nahuel laughed. “You’re just as they say, Ushijima-san.”

A frosty, unopened bottle was handed to Wakatoshi.

“Felicidades.” The setter beamed. “That was one of the most delightful games of my career.”

Wakatoshi felt his chest expand. “It’s an honor, Nahuel-san.” He bowed once more.

“I hope it’s to your liking. I heard from Nikola that you would only partake in beer.”

The one given to him had low alcohol content. He’s had it before. Andrzej must have told him. A quiet thank you, then Wakatoshi borrowed a discarded bottle cap and used it to break his open. Tangy sweet ginger refreshed his parched throat.

They rested their arms against the railing, drinking in silence as they watched over the traffic.

“Getting benched is one thing. Staying benched is another. A sort of death,” Nahuel suddenly uttered. “Sometimes death is better. Less shame to it.”

“Aleksander has not died. He’s just not good. Not right now. He is blinded by expectations of his potential.”

Nahuel paused from drinking. “Aren’t we all, at that young age? Aren’t you?”

“No,” he replied, sipping. “I only see what I can do and what I will. What others expect of it is none of my business.”

The older man shook his head, chuckling. “Spoken like a champion. That one only had his eyes on you, you know. You two— truly something else. You do acknowledge that it was a very close call?”

Wakatoshi huffed, smiling. “I do.” It was the best game of Wakatoshi’s career, too.

“A pair of prodigal sons,” Nahuel muttered around the lip of the bottle. “Your motherland must be weeping for the loss of you two.”

“Japan doesn’t hold a grudge against us.”

Nahuel laughed kindly. “No, no. Please excuse me. I mean to say…they must want for the both of you to come home and play there.”

He considered this. “Perhaps. But they can’t be wanting that much. We’ve no lack of competent players.”

A flash of pride in Nahuel’s eyes. He offered his bottle for a toast. Wakatoshi accepted.

“There are rumors of Romero…”

“A land of beasts.” Nahuel frowned, shivering. “Please, I take back what I said. Do not ever come home.”

Wakatoshi chuckled lowly.

“But do you plan on going back?” Nahuel asked.

“…In a few years,” he answered.

After emptying the bottle, Nahuel patted his back to say goodbye. “I must get going. Matias might be undressing as we speak.”

Wakatoshi nodded, then, “Do you happen to know where the toilet is?”

“Take those stairs.” He gestured behind Wakatoshi. “The one for the customers smell. Use the one for employees. It’s okay. They’re fans too. They know you know us. And we know the guy who runs the place. Good guy. Wife and four kids.”

Wakatoshi bowed, thanking Nahuel.

Then, just as he was turning to leave, Nahuel called his name. He spoke, but Wakatoshi did not recognize the words. It must be his native language.

“It’s something my grandmother used to tell me,” he elucidated with a gentle, patient expression. “I hope everything that occurs to you will be as joyful as a dream.”

“You too, Nahuel-san,” Wakatoshi said.

Nahuel smiled, waving as he turned back.

What a man.

He followed the older setter’s instructions. The men’s room was unoccupied and, although dimly lit, was as clean as Nahuel had said. Wakatoshi washed his hands after having done his business. He was about to go, send a message to his teammates and retire for the night, when a loud thud alerted him to the cubicle at the farthest corner of the room. It was the largest one, painted a deep maroon like the others.

Another thud, then a groan.

“Hello?” His voice echoed back to him. “Is everything alright?”

A strangled cry prompted Wakatoshi to march to the cubicle and force his way inside. The door unhinged partly at the top. It hung open.

A man in a black shirt, with the club’s logo stitched on the chest, stared back at Wakatoshi.

He’s shoved against the wall, his wrists pinned above his head. His eyes were blown wide open, grinning blankly, as a large, veined hand smothered his mouth into muffled keening. The other taller man who’s got him there is on his throat, a thick head of brown hair facing Wakatoshi, as his hips thrusted in wild abandon into the smaller one.

“Oikawa,” Wakatoshi growled.

The hand left his mouth, and the man let out a sharp howl, his entire body caught in trembles. Oikawa whispered something to him, pulling an absent, empty giggle out of him, before he fixed his pants and stumbled out of the cubicle, then out of the room. Wakatoshi glanced at the sopping pile of rubber beside the toilet.

Oikawa slumped to the floor; belt still unbuckled around his waist. A sheen of sweat glistened against his pale face. He looked up at Wakatoshi, who then knelt next to him without another word.

His pupils were massive, shining black marbles. He should’ve brought a bottle of water with him, Wakatoshi thought.

“What did you take?”

Oikawa bared his teeth to grin at Wakatoshi, then stuck his tongue out. A bright, bubblegum blue pill sat there, still perfectly round. Before he could roll it back in and swallow, Wakatoshi grabbed him by the nape, pulled, and shoved his tongue inside Oikawa’s mouth.

His lips were pillowy and wet against his, and he tasted bitter, almost astringent, as Wakatoshi swiped the fat of his tongue to catch the pill. He pulled away, already hard in his pants, and spat it into the toilet next to them, slamming the lid down.

In the next breath, Wakatoshi is on his back. Oikawa is on top of him, fist wrenching his collar. “Don’t leave me hanging, you fucking dog,” he drawled, chuckling.

He spat into Wakatoshi’s mouth. “Just like old times, huh?”

Wakatoshi grunted. He found himself unable sit up, until he pulled Oikawa by the hair and sunk his canines into his throat. Copper and salt mingled in Wakatoshi’s tongue. Oikawa moaned, grinding his ass down into Wakatoshi’s stiff cock as he made quick work of his pants.

Around his fingers, there’s a tacky downiness to Oikawa’s chestnut strands that made Wakatoshi grin. It almost felt like coming back home. He tugged harder, until Oikawa is facing the ceiling. The brunette cackled as he swiveled his hips.

“My greedy, little virgin boy,” he groaned. God, he wanted to slam himself inside that tight heat so fucking bad. “A trophy isn’t enough for you, huh? Want my ass too?”

“Fucking tease,” Wakatoshi grounded between his teeth. Blood trailed down Oikawa’s throat. He licked it up, feeling his Adam’s apple bob under his tongue.

Oikawa cackled, sighing, as he stroked himself. “Iwa-chan.”

The world turned red. Wakatoshi snarled, then grabbed Oikawa’s arm with the other hand, and lunged him to the wall, both of them a couple of scrambling feet. Oikawa barked, sneering, as he pushed Wakatoshi to the plank of wood dividing the cubicles, his arm locking Wakatoshi by the shoulders.

The divider cracked under the impact. The hinges of the door creaked in protest.

“You think you're all that?! Think you’ve won, motherfucker?!” Oikawa snapped. They heaved into each other’s panting mouths. “You haven’t won shit!”

Hot flushes fluttered in Wakatoshi’s chest. He laughed. “You’re a sore loser.”

“Yeah, better a sore loser than a— fuck me,” Oikawa groaned, “—than a desperate one. Hm?”

He’s already got Wakatoshi in his grip, their cock heads twitching and leaking into each other. Wakatoshi felt each heavy drop of Oikawa’s pre-cum on the tip, then slithering down to trace every vein on his shaft.

His cock was as pretty as him. The pink, curved head caught around Wakatoshi’s thick girth. Their fingers probed and scratched against each other as Wakatoshi stroked along with Oikawa. They bucked their hips forwards and backwards in a slow, frenzied rhythm.

They throbbed against each other, the meat of their cocks grinding and kissing. Sticky, wet sliding noises reverberated across the room.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa moaned, those enlarged pupils laughing at him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Wakatoshi growled, thrusting his fingers into the brunette’s waiting mouth.

He gnawed until they bled. Wakatoshi hissed, but watched anyway, transfixed, as Oikawa sucked them dry.

“Then what do you want me to call you?” he crooned around his fingers.

Their once measured movements became erratic, and his heart careened along with it. The light behind his eyes bursting, a volatile thing, sending shockwaves in his nerves.

“My baby? My prince? S’that what you want? You and that fucked up savior’s complex of yours?” Oikawa spat, sighing into his ear. “My prince? Have you come to save me? Ah, right there— My prince — fuck, baby, I’m so close—”

They spilled all over each other’s hands, shivering and gasping.

Oikawa fell to him, his damp forehead resting on his equally damp shoulders. For a while, there was only the sound of their strained breathing. Then, whimpering.

He wondered if the high had worn off and if it was causing him pain. Wakatoshi tried to shake him off just so he could see his face, but Oikawa stubbornly pressed into his cheek instead. He let him. Only for a minute though. They needed to clean up soon.

A steady trickle of sweat dripped from Oikawa to Wakatoshi’s neck.

Oikawa was blabbering something. He might still be up there after all, swimming in a river of adrenaline. However, the more he did it, that high-pitched blabbering, the less convinced Wakatoshi had been that that was indeed the case.

He was repeating a name, whispering it like a prayer, almost like sickly plea.

Wakatoshi understood then that Oikawa was no longer provoking him.

It wasn’t even Iwaizumi Hajime’s name.

It was somebody else’s.

One he couldn’t recognize.

And the sweat that flowed unceasingly didn’t seem to be just that.

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere ushijima #yandere oikawa #dark content haikyuu #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #red like blood blue like love sequel #chapter 3 #yandere #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you

24 notes · View notes

bearprofessorr · 1 day ago

Text

chasing the stars, part 3.

distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they say.

ship: bfd!declan o'hara/fem!reader. tags/warnings: slow burn, mentions of violence, drunk declan, no y/n. word count: 2.6k

a/n: okok the slow burn is slow burning - howeverr that may not last for long, even i'm getting impatient and i'm the one writing the damn thing (anyone else get that?). some time skips happen here and there and will continue to just to get to the good stuff ;) enjoyyyy <3

You crossed paths in the morning, as you were helping Taggie clear up the remnants of your sleepover in the living room. Declan poked his head through, bidding both of you a good morning. It was clear enough he hadn't quite woken up yet - his hair was messy, only combed back with his hand, with a mug of coffee in his grip. Apart from that, you didn't speak, with you having to go back to your flat to sort some things out before your shift started that afternoon.

Your work, unfortunately, needed an extra hand around the place on Friday - so you ended up so busy you had to miss your arranged Friday night plans with Taggie to busy yourself around the place because someone had gotten sick the night before.

However, the plus side to all of this was, during the week - even if you weren't seeing Taggie until Friday; according to Corinium's scheduling for the week, Declan was supposed to be co-hosting a pageant show with two other equally random guests. You thought for a moment about how much he likely disputed it, considering their last conversation was about the inner beauty of a woman, you reckoned that judging purely on looks was the last thing on his agenda. Regardless, it would be funny to see the panel of men blush and try to be modest for a few hours - and the whole thing was live, for that extra buzz of excitement.

The rest of your week was pointedly uneventful, filled with menial shifts and occasional late night calls with Taggie, where she would regale the long stories of bumping into Rupert in town while she was getting groceries or seeing him walk across the street from the parking lot to a shop of any kind. It was sweet, to hear about her romances, and how she was managing to hide all of it from her father - who still seemed apprehensive about Rupert from her point of view. You told her every time that Declan was just being protective of his oldest daughter, and if anything were to happen, he would just have to suck it up. That usually calmed her down, made her laugh instead of worry, and every time she would apologise for going on about him.

"Really, it's terrible, I'm always talking about him and I never hear a word about anyone from you." Taggie chastised you playfully, being self-deprecating in the process, "Is there not one guy at all that you're crushing on?"

There is. Very unfortunately for you, there is. The one man that you can never have, unless you wanted to risk losing Taggie forever, so you lied instead. "There isn't, all the guys at work are so unimaginative it's almost cruel to think about how they live. They all just sit around and do the bare minimum - I can't imagine how they'd be in a relationship."

"It's true," Taggie conceded, "All the boys our age still haven't grown up at all - it's like they're all still in school."

"And that's why you're going for Rupert?" You teased, hearing the groan of your best friend from the other side of the phone, laughing between your words as your continued to speak, "Since the only people who can treat you right are big, manly, men."

"Hey-" Taggie tried to refute, but was unsuccessful, "That's not true."

"Right fine, Sebastian can be the exception, but… when was the last time he took you out?"

"Don't make me feel even worse-" Taggie groaned.

"I'm sorry, Tag, but it's true," You said between a laugh, "You can't say I'm wrong when he's proving me right!"

"I know." She frowned, which came through in her voice. Taggie went to say something, but some muffled voices in the background stopped her, "Sorry, sweetheart, I'll see you Friday!"

This was how their calls often ended, abrupt - but you knew they'd pick up where they left off when you saw each other next. Luckily for you, you had something to occupy your evening on the Corinium network.

What you saw, frankly, was not entirely appalling. Declan was drunk - that much was clear from how different he looked compared to his show persona, and the fact you had dealt with a drunken Declan before. He looked relaxed, more himself, and still just as ruggedly handsome as you had grown to adore. Somehow, he had even less of a filter than normal, which led to him decking the Reverend in a sudden rage that ended the broadcast prematurely.

It wasn't quite instant, and you could hear the vague mumblings of anger from Declan - in his signature Irish accent - with the mild protestations from the Reverend before the feed cut out. Frankly there was nothing the old man could do to stop Declan, as much as he wasn't known in the news for his physique, you had seen - albeit accidentally - that he kept himself in shape. It was almost shocking the first time, but it wasn't repulsive, it had quite the opposite effect.

As soon as you stopped gawking at the TV, you tried to call Taggie at the Priory - unfortunately you couldn't get through, the line was busy. Either Taggie was trying to get a hold of Declan or Rupert - who you did see in the audience cutaways sitting by Freddie Jones. It didn't take much to put together that Thing 1 and Thing 2 were responsible for Declan's inebriated state. You tried your best not to think about it and get on with your evening chores before bed. You tried your best to not think on Declan most days - despite how much your mind gravitated toward him in your quieter moments.

What you didn't expect, though, was the knock on your door 10 minutes later. You opened it to a sorry sight of Taggie O'Hara, visibly exhausted as she nearly flopped into your arms, wrapping you in a tight hug.

"I hope it's alright that I'm here," Taggie sounded like she was on the verge of tears, immediately trying to apologise as if she was some random person burdening a stranger, "I'm so sorry to spring this on you."

"It's no worry at all, sweetheart. You're always welcome here, you know that." You tried to reassure her as much as you could, but it was hard to do that with Taggie sometimes. The thing you had picked up on during their friendship was that Taggie had to sit with her emotions for a while before she could start dealing with them and moving forward, but it worked for her - even if you didn't completely understand sometimes.

"Did you watch the live show?" Taggie pulled away to look into your eyes, as you reluctantly nodded - your face sympathetic. Taggie's frown deepened at that, before burying it back into your embrace.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Your comforted, voice even and calm.

"Please."

"Come on in, Tag, I've got leftovers if you're hungry."

Taggie perked up after that, appreciating the warm normalcy she always had with you, shrugging off her coat in a familiar ritual along with her shoes, delicately placed alongside yours - with spaces left on each rack for them both.

The night was calm, which was exactly what Taggie needed before she went home to deal with whatever wreckage Declan had left behind him, if he even made it back to The Priory. Taggie said she would find out whatever she could, for her own sake and for yours, but she'd do that tomorrow morning, after a proper nights sleep.

It was a quick goodbye in the morning, with you rushing off to your shift, leaving Taggie behind to go home when she was ready - she had a spare key to lock up behind her anyways. She promised that she'd try and get her father in at least a decent state when she came over on Friday, but you reassured that you'd seen Declan drunk before - and knew how to deal with it.

"I'll call you after my shift, alright Tag?" You called out, propping the front door open with your foot, shrugging your work bag onto your shoulder. Only after you heard some kind of noise from Taggie did you truly say goodbye and let the door close behind you.

When you did phone the Priory, it wasn't Taggie that picked up, but her mother. You had met Maud earlier in the year, so recognised her Irish lilt on the other side of the phone.

"Who is it?" She sounded completely done already, tired and half-ready to hang up.

"Oh, sorry! Is Taggie there?" Your surprise came across in your voice, which probably didn't help with Maud's mood.

"I'll get her, she won't be long." Maud responded with an audible huff, before you heard the muffled 'Taggie! Phone!' being called out into the house, then the thud of the phone receiver being left on the dresser as footsteps trailed off into the house to do anything else but stand and wait at the phone.

A few minutes of dead air passed, and you got worried that Taggie wasn't going to come to the phone before you heard her, very out of breath, "My knight in shining armour! Sorry, I've been trying to stop everyone from ripping each other's throats out."

"I can imagine, it's almost like I can feel the tension through the phone." You joked, trying your best to lighten the mood, and the gentle laughter of your friend on the other side made your shoulders lift. "Are you doing okay? I can call later if you're busy."

"No, no, anything but that." Taggie pleaded, "I'm free as a bird, please, tell me about your day."

She needed distraction under stress - like her father - and you were more than happy to oblige and ramble on about the menial work you undertook. It was nice to talk to Taggie about anything, she was always such an active listener, asking questions and vocalising her opinions as the story progressed.

Halfway through one story, though, a voice came through in the background - quickly followed by another, neither of which were Taggie's. "Sorry, one second." Taggie's voice rang clear compared to the others' as she turned around and tried to calm down whatever was bubbling between them - that meant it was Declan and Maud, since as far as you were aware, Patrick and Caitlin were still at school.

"Who's on the phone?" You could barely make out the words, but it was distinctly Declan's voice.

Taggie filled Declan in on who was on the other side, finishing her sentence with, "We're just catching up - won't be long." Taggie's voice was as chipper as ever, calmer than the stressful version you heard when Tag first picked up the phone.

"Oh - what a lovely surprise!" Declan, audibly drunk Declan, spoke again, "Mind if I say hello?"

You could almost hear Maud roll her eyes as she added into the conversation, "When did you two get so friendly?"

"Mum!" Taggie immediately hit back, "She comes around here a lot, now, so obviously they know each other."

"That's not-" Maud tried to butt in again, but gave up, "Just give him the phone, would you?"

The exchanging of hands was a little flimsy, with hands running static over the receiver as it passed between them. It took a moment of silence before you heard Declan speak, clearer this time, "Hello love, are you alright?"

"Mhm, you sound like you've seen better days." You joked, trying to think of a segue to talk about what happened, but went with the clearest choice, "I saw the broadcast."

"That fucker deserved it. I won't tell you the details to spare the girl, but he's despicable and I stand by what I did." His tone shifted immediately, and it was obvious that the Reverend struck a nerve in Declan. The words sounded practiced, as if he had been continuously justifying his actions to anyone that asked.

"I never said I disagreed, I'm saying I saw." You kept your voice light, trying not to fall into the deep pits of negatives that your conversations seemed to steer to. "I'm sure whatever you did, you thought it was necessary. I'm just glad you're okay." 'I'm just glad you didn't end up with a charge.' went unsaid.

Declan grumbled on the other side of the phone as the anger rose and subsided in his system. His voice was softer as he spoke again, "Sorry, love. It's been a long couple of days."

"I can only imagine."

"You sound tired." His voice switched to concern, and you could almost see the furrow of his eyebrows over the phone, like he always did whenever he checked in on you or Taggie. "Are you still coming round on Friday, for your thing with Tag?"

On the other side of the phone, that you didn't see as Declan spoke to you, was the scrunched faces of Maud and Taggie, looking to each other for context and finding nothing but confusion mirrored back at them. Taggie was leaning back on the nearest pillar, arms crossed as she listened to Declan's side of the conversation, and was able to look at him while he spoke to you. It was nothing like when he had seen them speak before - and part of her wondered if there was something else happening. Quickly as it came, she dismissed the thought, knowing that if anything did happen she wouldn't be second-guessing it. She hoped she would be able to tell that something was up with you, or that her best friend would tell her just like she did to you about Rupert. Anyways, imagining her father getting closer to you was weird, and Taggie didn't want to admit where her mind went when she thought about your relationship developing.

Maud, on the other hand, knew Declan's softer side well, and as soon as she cottoned onto the shift in his demeanour, turned on her heel and marched off into the house. Declan didn't so much as hesitate when she did.

The chatter continued on, mindless questions back and forth before you excused yourself to clean up after your shift - you quite literally dropped your bag at the door and rushed to the phone to talk to Taggie - so Declan handed the phone back over so the two of you could finish up. After, he followed in the direction of his wife - to try and handle whatever caused her to storm off.

"Ah, hey Taggie, didn't think that would take so long, sorry." You apologised, "He's a real chatterbox, you know."

"Not always, but I don't think the drink helped." Taggie didn't hesitate to fall back into familiar rhythms, "Was there anything else you wanted to say?"

"No, nothing major. Yourself?"

"Not that can't wait until Friday."

You nodded along, forgetting for a moment Taggie couldn't actually see you, before vocalising the thought with a, "Good, I'll be there early so we have time to catch up."

"Great! I might not be there when you get here if it's before 6, I'm meeting with Lizzie to discuss some catering work, but Dad'll let you in."

"See you then, Tag!" Your smile came through in your words, proud of your best friend's successes.

And, if everything went as Taggie promised, all would be revealed on Friday.

#declan o’hara x reader #rivals #rivals 2024 #rivals fanfiction #declan o'hara #rivals x reader

23 notes · View notes