#(yet again slow on replies because of school but I’ll be on my messages)

[edgymuses]

Quick psa I’m happy to do pre establish relationships or ships for any of my muse! Just need to talk about it so I can get an understanding of their dynamics and ideas we may both have for them!

Also this year I’m changing my url! It’s a shock I know! I had this url for years

[mandelirious]

Brown Eyes

Part 4: The Beginning

modern din x reader; coffee shop au

word count: 3.3k

a/n: the longest part yet!! just some more wholesome fun for these two. reposted because tumblr tags hate me! as always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!! 💕

series masterlist

You texted Din when you got home from the date, a wide smile still on your face. Over the next few days, you got used to his unique brand of texting. He seemed to get up earlier than you and there was always a message waiting when you blinked awake. It was usually a simple, ‘good morning’, but your heart still jumped in your chest when you saw his name. All of his messages were short, but not unkind. Texting was clearly not his forte and you supposed he had to have a flaw somewhere.

You’d just finished dinner a few days later, already tired from a never-ending shift. Din had been more sporadic in his replies than usual so you weren’t paying much attention to your phone as you kicked up your feet on the coffee table. The cat in your lap meowed unhappily at your movement and you rolled your eyes at his dramatics. A scratch behind the ear and he was once again purring, the soothing sound mixing in with the tv show you were absently watching. You were starting to drift without realizing it, a slow slip as you relaxed fully back into the couch. The quick buzz of your phone pulled you away from sleep and you picked it up to blink groggily at the screen. It was a text from Din, you assumed responding to whatever you’d said hours ago, but then you noticed the actual words.

Can I call you?

You were suddenly wide awake, sitting up fast enough to once again jostle your cat–who grumpily jumped off your lap in favor of finding a non-moving bed. Your tired mind was already supplying anxiety-inducing scenarios as to why he might want to talk, why he hadn’t been responding as quickly to your messages. Thankfully, you were finally getting used to pushing away your own self-sabotaging thoughts and replied before you could start up again.

Sure!

The phone screen lit up barely thirty seconds later with a call. 

“Hey.” You put the phone up to your ear, noticing you were subconsciously smoothing down your hair. For a phone call. Boy, you had it bad.

“Hey,” His voice filtered through your phone’s tiny speaker. It was deep and warm and you found yourself relaxing almost immediately. “Sorry, I’ve got a long drive home and I thought it might be nice to talk instead of just waiting to text you.”

You smiled and sunk back into the couch cushions. “I think so too.” The faint sounds of the road were barely audible on his side. “Where are you driving from?”

“The middle of nowhere. I was doing a shoot for some procedural show.” 

“Donuts?” Your grin widened as you heard his answering laugh. You could already picture him shaking his head at you.

“No donuts. Just some off-roading in a cop car and quick stops they don’t trust the actors with.” Din said it so casually that you’d think he’d been filling out spreadsheets all day instead of stunt driving. Maybe the basic stuff was like filling out spreadsheets for him. 

“You can downplay all you want, I won’t stop thinking your job is cool.”

He laughed again. “My job is cool. I just don’t want you thinking I’m jumping flaming school buses or anything.”

“Man, you’re going about this flirting thing all wrong,” you teased. 

“Am I?” That cocky tone that you caught occasionally had crept into his voice. You enjoyed it more than you wanted to admit. 

“You’re supposed to lead with how dangerous your job is and then brood mysteriously in a leather jacket.” 

“And be emotionally unavailable?,” he retorted.

It was your turn to laugh. “God, yes. That’s the most important part.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to try harder.” The smile was obvious in his voice and you wished you could see it. You wished you could kiss him again. A few days was starting to feel like a long time.

Din asked about your day, thankfully distracting your thoughts from how soft his lips were, and you were surprised again at how easy he was to talk to. It took a while sometimes for you to warm up to someone, especially in the uncomfortable world of dating. But something about Din put you at ease. Maybe it was the way he listened, or the feeling you had that this didn’t usually come easily to him either. He wasn’t an open book–you weren’t yourself–but you didn’t mind it that way, taking your time. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The road stretched out endlessly in front of Din’s car. It would be a sad reminder of how long he had to go if it wasn’t for your voice coming out of his speakers. It felt intimate in that special way that late night drives do. Nothing existed but the bubble of his car–filled with your conversation as it passed streetlight after streetlight. He usually wouldn’t go this out of the way for a job but it had been a while since he’d been working steadily and he wasn’t going to turn his nose up at the easy stuff. Getting time to talk to you was an unexpected bonus. He passed stretches of sleepy towns, listening as you talked about your day, the show you were watching, your moody cat. In turn, he told you about the podcasts he listened to between takes and about Peli, who had taught him most things he knew about taking care of cars and now spent her time watching the child whenever he needed it. Din hoped you didn’t notice how carefully he talked around the topic of Grogu, how he steered away from details as gently as he could. Maybe you were just nice enough not to ask.

He was the one to notice how late it had gotten hours later, when the lights of the city were once again filtering through his windshield. “Shit. I’ve kept you up, haven’t I?”

Your soft laugh crackled through the car speakers. “It’s ok. I don’t work tomorrow so I can sleep in.”

“No exciting plans for the day off?” Din wondered if it was too soon for a second date. Your pause made him think you might be wondering the same thing.

“Just the usual. I go to the farmer’s market on Saturdays when I’m off.” There was that pause again. “Do you want to come?”

He could feel the grin splitting his face. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He took the turn onto his own street, almost regretting that the drive was nearly over.

“Great.” You sounded relieved, like there was any possibility of him saying no. “It’s only a few blocks from Nevarro, if you want to meet me there? Elevenish?”

“Elevenish. I think I can do that.” He would bribe Peli with everything he had to be on babysitting duty again after a late night. Although, she was so obsessed with the kid that he probably didn’t have to. “I’m actually almost at my place, and you should get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Your play at indifference was undermined by the large yawn you let out right after.

He laughed as his body involuntarily reacted with one of its own. “You made me yawn.”

Now you were laughing, and he could hear the shuffling of movement through the phone. “I’m going to bed then. See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he confirmed.

“Goodnight, Din.” He couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him at hearing you say his name.

“Goodnight.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You got to Nevarro Coffee House early enough to be waiting outside with drinks by the time you saw Din round the corner. He smiled as he noticed you and your heart backflipped in your chest. 

“I got your usual.” You extended the coffee cup when he was close enough. His eyes flicked from the paper cup back to you, squinting as his smile widened.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He took the drink from your hand, brushing your fingers together in what felt like a deliberate move. You both were still for a moment, unsure of what the greeting protocol was for second dates. Din made the decision for you, ducking down to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. A slight blush was coloring his cheeks when he leaned away again. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Thanks for coming,” you answered, nodding your head in the direction of the sidewalk. It was only a few blocks to where the farmer’s market was set up and you were already passing people going to and from the booth-lined streets as you walked, sipping your coffee. Din looked like he needed the caffeine after the long day you knew he’d just had. 

The streets got increasingly crowded as you passed the roadblocks they set up every weekend. A few more steps and you’d crossed into the heart of the bustle. Competing sounds and smells from the booths around you swirled in the air and you smiled at the familiar environment. There was always something new to see, no matter how many times you’d been to the city’s Saturday market, and from the look on Din’s face you guessed this might be his first visit.

“They do this every weekend?” He was turning his head from side to side, eyeing the goods lined up to the end of the street and beyond. Everything, from art to produce, was on display.

“Every Saturday. It’s one of my favorite spots,” you admitted, leading him far enough out of the flow of people to really see the booths you passed. You browsed like that for a while, enjoying the sunshine that was just keeping it from being too cold. After a few minutes, Din stopped in front of a canopy that was full of paintings–his eyes trained on the artist that was hard at work in the middle. It was a man you’d seen at the market often, taking advantage of the time waiting for customers to work on a new painting. The shape was still developing, but you could understand Din’s fascination. The canvas was a riot of colors–each one competing for attention but never muddling together. You glanced over at Din as he watched, a look on his face that you couldn’t quite read. He noticed your gaze and smiled, leaning over to bump your shoulders together. When you moved on to the next booth Din dropped his hand to slide against yours, fingers hesitantly weaving together.

You pointed out your favorite sellers, falling into another easy conversation as you stopped to buy some produce and stack it in your handy tote bag. His fingers linked back with yours when you were done, like a natural pull to be touching that you were glad he also felt. A familiar face greeted you as you rounded the corner–Keira. Your coworker and friend was sitting with her girlfriend behind a colorful table, selling her handmade jewelry. It was obvious the moment she saw you and dropped her eyes to your joined hands, a shit-eating grin spreading on her face. Oh, you were definitely hearing about this at work tomorrow. Luckily, Din was distracted by what looked like an explosion of yarn a few feet away. You took the opportunity to shoot Keira a conspiratorial look and then followed Din. 

He was looking at a variety of crocheted stuffed animals scattered over a fold-up table. They were all adorable–with large eyes and little stitched smiles. He let go of your hand to pick up a small plush frog, turning it over thoughtfully before seeming to make a decision and pulling out his wallet.You lifted an eyebrow as he finished paying the excited woman behind the table and starting walking again. 

“For the kid.” He lifted the paper bag now holding the frog plush in explanation. You hesitated for a moment on your reply. Pushing him about this subject wasn’t something you ever wanted to do, but you had to admit your own curiosity. 

“What’s his name?” That seemed a safe question in what could be a minefield that he clearly wasn’t ready to wade into. 

“Grogu.” Din looked in the bag, as if checking on his new purchase.

It certainly wasn’t a name you’d heard before. “Why Grogu?,” you asked, hoping this wasn’t the question that would have him closing off. 

Din shrugged in response, not what you had been expecting. “I’m not sure. I-I wasn’t there when they named him.” That raised more questions than it answered but you were done asking for the day. Despite your silence, he continued in a whisper that was nearly lost in the crowd. “I’m taking care of him, he’s not…mine.” There was a story in those words, and maybe some pain as well. You squeezed his hand in yours and he let out what might have been a sigh of relief. 

The topic was switched after that, as the morning turned over into afternoon and you had walked the length of the market and back. He told you some stories about Greef that you would never let him live down and bought both of you guava smoothies to sip once your coffee was finished. You told him about some local authors you admired and offered to let him borrow a book, trying to pretend you weren’t almost back at the street where the coffee shop stood. It was becoming a common feeling to you now, dreading the moment when your time with Din would end. He seemed to be thinking the same thing. 

“Where did you park?,” he asked, slowing as you approached the familiar door of your job. You smiled at the thought of the last time he’d escorted you to your car.

“Oh, I walked. It was nice this morning.” Your apartment wasn’t too far and you’d needed an excuse to burn off some of the nervous energy before seeing him again. 

Din tilted his head, looking up the street. “Do you want a ride back?”

You probably should have thought about it for longer, but–”Yeah, that’d be great.”

His car was simple, but nice. Definitely newer than yours judging from the extra features inside. You could see a car seat set up in the back and Din dropped the bag containing the plush next to it as you buckled up. 

“You have a bike too?,” you asked curiously. You had yet to actually see him on it, unfortunately. Din tilted his head again, likely wondering how you knew that. “I saw your helmet–in Nevarro.”

“Oh yeah.” He started the ignition and glanced around before pulling onto the street. “I usually prefer the bike, but it depends on what I’m doing. Sometimes I don’t want to carry the helmet around.”

“Can you do stunts on the bike too?”

He laughed, seemingly amused by your enthusiasm about his job. “Nothing too fancy, but I can make it work. Wheelies are harder than they look.”

You tried to picture him like that–revving engines and drifting around corners at top speeds. It was hard to reconcile with the man you were currently watching drive with calm, controlled movements. One day you’d like to see what he looked like letting go of a little of that control. 

The small studio apartment you lived in was close, and you directed him to it in no time. It shouldn’t have surprised you how quickly and perfectly he parallel parked in front of your building. That was a skill you could definitely use. Unfortunately, that meant you were right back at having to say your goodbyes. Unless…”I could get that book for you, if you want to come up for a second?” 

Din’s smile calmed your jumping nerves. “Yeah, ok.” 

He followed you into the building and up the stairs, sweetly offering to hold your bag as you fought with the sticky lock on your door. You were trying to remember how much of a mess your place was when you finally got the key to turn and pushed it open. It wasn’t nearly as messy as it could be and sent a quick thanks to your past self for not being a slob. 

“One sec!” You left him to drop your bag on the counter and ducked around the wall to your bookshelf. Now he was here, in your apartment, and you were having a hard time calming your racing heart. Taking deep breaths, you scanned the obscene amount of books stacked in and around the poor sagging bookshelf. By the time you found the right one, you were feeling a little more relaxed. The sight you came back to was enough to let the nerves go completely, along with an amused laugh.

Din was still standing by your kitchen counter but now he was leaning over, one arm extended out as far as it could go with his pointer finger curling and uncurling–trying to beckon your cat that seemed determined to stay just out of reach of the touch. At your laugh, his furry face whipped around and he lost interest in teasing, deciding to slink under your loveseat instead. Din looked adorably disappointed. 

“Don’t worry, he just takes a while to warm up to people,” you assured, still chuckling. “And he’s an asshole.” You produced the book, handing it over with a suddenly serious face. “You’re allowed not to like it, but I will judge you.”

Din laughed and you took a moment to enjoy the appearance of his dimples. “That’s fair.”

“Thanks–”

“I’ll–”

You both started speaking at the same time, overlapping each other and then cutting off with matching laughs. 

“Thank you for inviting me today. It was nice to just walk around for a bit.” He leaned closer until your smiles met in a soft kiss. Much like the first, it was over too soon, but before you could miss the sensation he had leaned in again. You could feel his hand coming to rest on your jaw, pulling you gently closer as you began to melt against him. Kissing Din felt like falling–a warm rush of air as your stomach swooped and a force like gravity pulled you impossibly closer. The feeling of his lips was so consuming that you didn’t notice you’d moved until your lower back hit the kitchen counter. He was pressed against you now–not overwhelming but warm, electrifying. He sucked in a heavy breath that turned to a shiver as your teeth grazed his bottom lip. Both of you moved at once, somehow perfectly in sync as your hand slid into his curls and his wrapped around your hip. The kiss has become slick and breathy as your other hand gripped at the shirt stretching across his chest, pulling him closer. Whatever words he breathed into your mouth were lost in the blaring sound of a phone ringing. 

“Shit,” he groaned, pulling away with what seemed like some effort to grab the offending phone from his back pocket and look at the screen. “I’m so sorry.” He kept one hand loosely on your arm, unable to completely stop touching you as he answered the phone. 

You could hear a woman’s voice on the other end, wry and pointed. They spoke for less than a minute before Din was hanging up with a sigh. “I’m so sorry, Peli has to go into the shop so I’ve got to get home.” He looked as regretful saying the words as you did hearing them. 

“It’s ok.” You smiled reassuringly, your heart still drumming rapidly in your chest. 

He was watching you, eyes flicking down to your lips and then meeting yours. “I’ll call you?” His handsome face dipped back down as you nodded, pressing a much more chaste kiss to your lips. “I’ll see you soon.” 

“You’d better.” 

Din ducked out of the door, his chuckle following him into the hall.

[bulletnotestudies]

☁️ 10 tips on studying when your motivation’s nowhere to be found

i got an ask about this yesterday and decided to turn my reply into a post because having trouble focusing when you’re super unmotivated is really common, so i thought more people might find this helpful :) buckle up kiddos, this is gonna be a long one!

1. i want you to remember that this is a universal experience.

every student out there struggles like hell sometimes, and that’s completely normal; you’re not a machine and that means you can’t possibly churn out work 24/7 without burning out. so try not to beat yourself up too much okay, you’re doing great!

2. take a deep breath and identify the reason you’re feeling like this

are you burnt out because of stress or overworking yourself? are you overwhelmed by the amount of tasks on your plate? is there a particular assignment or exam scaring you to the point where you don’t want to start studying? these are all normal reasons for lack of motivation and knowing the why will help you figure out the how - you gotta know the problem to solve it.

3. i know you feel like you’re months behind, but start small

small achievements accumulate. repeat this sentence to yourself daily, write it on a sticky note and keep it on the wall above your desk (it’s exactly what i did). break up daunting tasks into smaller ones; got a billion formulae to know by heart? memorise 3 every day (you’ll have memorised more than 20 by the end of the week!). got a long chapter to study? divide it into smaller chunks and just focus on 1-3 pages a day. slow and steady, you can do it

4. the pomodoro technique is a lifesaver!

i always use this technique when i’m feeling unmotivated and cannot focus. sometimes, your mind just won’t stop wandering off and so scheduling regular breaks is a must! try going for 25 minutes of work, followed by a 5 minute break, then repeat the cycle :) you’ll be less tempted to prolong your break if you know there’s another one coming in less than half an hour. if 25min is too long, try just 15 minutes of focus and work your way up form there - there’s no shame in studying in really short bursts! sometimes that’s all you can bring yourself to do and that’s okay! and if you can, i really recommend a 45/15 or 50/10 ratio (those are the ratios me and my friend - 2nd year med students - use the most :))

5. track your productivity

use the forest mobile app or a hand-drawn productivity tracker in your bujo - a visual representation of productivity will activate the reward system part of your brain. it’s the same part that’s involved in addiction formation and you can use it to your advantage - get a mini high from seeing your effort, not only from seeing your results!

6. set up a reward system

continuing on that tangent: sometimes, a short break isn’t enough motivation to stay focused. sometimes, you gotta pull a little sneaky on yourself and bribe your brain. some examples: - ‘if i can manage to reach 3 hours of productivity today, i’ll watch my fave movie in the evening’ - ‘i’ll have a bubble bath once i finish reading this chapter’ - ‘if i complete this assignment by the end of the week, i can do absolutely nothing the whole day come Saturday’

7. consider different sources/modes of studying

switching things up can do wonders; try making flashcards on quizlet, watching youtube videos on the topics you’ll be tested on, you can read wikipedia articles (wikipedia is severely underrated!), browse for podcasts on the topic, there’s a million different ways to learn, not just sitting down and reading from your textbook for hours on end :) on a similar note, if you have the option, try studying elsewhere - go to the kitchen table or study on the floor - beware of the bed and sofa! not a good idea, you’ll most likely end up taking a nap.

8. take care of your body and your mental health

have you drunk enough water today? have you eaten enough vitamin-rich foods? make a healthy snack! or get your fave comfort food, that works too, extra serotonin :) have you been outside in the past 3 days? if not, i highly recommend a short walk outside (if your corona regulations allow it, ofc). i know getting out of your house is hard, i suck at it myself, but getting fresh air and direct sunlight is crucial for your wellbeing! think of yourself as a slightly more complicated house plant:) you gotta nourish to flourish!

9. stop for a second and think how you value your work.

i’m sure you’ve done more than you give yourself credit for. it may seem too little, a drop in the sea of assignments you’ve yet to hand in, but every single minute of effort counts! every little task you do brings you closer to your goal! replied to a school email? good for you, you’ve got your correspondence covered and your professor knows you’re working hard. took 3 minutes to clear your study space? wonderful, a fresh setup = a fresh mindset! got more than 6 hours of sleep? yay, your brain had time to recuperate from a day’s worth of activities!

10. and again, you are not alone in this!

i promise there are at least 50 other people feeling exactly the same as you at any given moment. we all struggle with the same things, in one way or another, and motivating each other always helps. whether it be aggressive pep talks or gentle words of encouragement, studyblrs always have each other’s backs and you can message practically anyone in this community if you’re in need of support :) our job is to hype each other up and watch as we reach our respective goals <3

take care and good luck with your studies!

some additional posts you may find helpful: ◦ a wonderful ‘how to get stuff done’ guide ◦ energy management ◦ focus & productivity tips ◦ a very straight to the point guide to starting a successful study sesh ◦ how to handle having too much to do 

my other masterposts: study sounds⎪dealing with failure⎪chrome extensions for students

[bestiesenpai]

firsts with Nanami Kento

I would love to share my firsts with Nanami Kento, my soon to be husband who I hope is free this Saturday, that’s correct this coming Saturday a day that I am free and that he hopefully is also free this Saturday-

First meeting

Nanami Kento, ex jujutsu sorcerer turned ex salaryman turned jujutsu sorcerer once again

Even though he hated working, he still had to do it to survive

When he was a salaryman, Nanami allowed himself a few pleasures in life, one being going to a bakery

But now that he’s back to being a sorcerer, he doesn’t really have the time for that like he used to

Sometimes though, he finds the time to squeeze into a bakery, this time one that’s unknown and unfamiliar to him, but apparently Gojo knows all about it

“Hi Satoru!” A friendly voice calls out as the lanky man steps into the warm building. Kento follows suit, a tick in his forehead already appearing at the knowledge that someone is so familiar with Satoru that they’d call him by his first name. Whoever they were, they could only be as annoying as he is.

“Hi (Y/N)!” Satoru says just as happily, singing your name a little bit as he walks to the counter. The bakery is small with a few tables dotted around, flowers in vases sitting in the windowsills and warm wooden walls.

“I see you brought a friend today.” Only when he’s acknowledged does Nanami look up at who’s speaking. You’re standing there with a kind smile and give him a wave when you make eye contact. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Nanami manages to say smoothly, but the attention you’re giving him makes his chest tighten. You haven’t even done anything special yet he can feel himself getting a little warmer under his collar.

“I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to meet you! Are you a friend of Satoru?”

“No-”

“Yes!” Satoru quickly interrupts, wrapping an arm around Kentos shoulders. “We went to school together.” Giving his shoulder a squeeze, Satoru leans closer to Kento. “Introduce yourself.”

Pushing Satoru off, Kento clears his throat and subtly rolls his eyes. Finding himself unable to make full on eye contact with you, Kento settles for looking at your forehead.

“Nanami Kento. It’s nice to meet you.” He can see you working the name out in your head, and a small smile graces your cheeks.

“Nanami, do you like sweets like Satoru?”

“No.” He replies immediately, eyes drifting down to Satoru who is currently leaning over the display case staring at the confections. “Gojo eats enough for the both of us.”

“That’s true!” The man echoes, throwing a thumbs up in the air.

“Good to know.” You giggle, and it’s the sweetest sound Kento’s ever heard. “We make savory food as well, in the other case.” Sweeping your arm to the side, there is indeed another case full of non-sweet treats. “Take your time in picking one out!”

First hangout

He and Gojo didn’t stay long that first day, just a quick stop on their way back to the school

Nanami finds himself looking forward to going to that part of town again though, because he’d like to see you- oop, scratch that not you! The treats! The treats were very good! Totally not you, psshhh where’d you get that idea?

A month goes by before he sees you again, not because he hasn’t been going to the bakery - he has - it’s just you never seem to be there! He goes during normal business hours, but he can’t ever catch you

After a late solo mission, with the sun just beginning to set in the sky and most rush hour traffic having left, Nanami goes to the bakery one more time

And surprisingly, he finds you there

How long had you been sleeping on the counter? You were fully perched on your stool, back bent as your head rested snugly in your arms on the counter. It had probably been a long day of serving customers if you were this tired that you didn’t hear the heavy door open and close, or the chime going off alerting you of a new person.

Kento stood at the counter just watching you for a while. He knew that if someone else walked in, it might be a little creepy for them to see him like this, but if that happened he would deal with it. For now, he was content just looking at you.

Your features were soft and relaxed as you dozed, the apron you usually wore folded up next to you. The creases in your eyes were gone, your mouth relaxed, and the sound of your slow and even breathing filled the quiet room.

Once again Kento wondered, how long had you been asleep? The cases that were usually stocked full were nearly bare, only a few stray pieces of cake or a croissant waiting to be purchased. He almost left the bakery, wanting you to catch up on sleep since you seemed to need it. But instead, he gently shook your shoulder. As much as he wanted to let you rest, he also wanted to talk to you.

“Hm?” With a big yawn and a stretch, you slowly rise to look at Kento with eyes still heavy from sleep. Your eyelids droop closed more than once before you take another deep breath and rest your hands on the counter, back still bowed. “Na-Nanami?” Your eyebrows scrunch up from trying to remember where you were and who was in front of you right now.

“Hello.” His hand remains on your shoulder even though he has to bend forward slightly now. His face is neutral and his eyes are searching you.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Another yawn, and you rub your face drowsily. Kento lets out a little grunt, he thinks it’s cute the way you rub your eyes and sit up further, trying to wake yourself up again. “How long have I been sleeping?” Stretching your neck, you look at the clock behind you and out the window.

“Not too long.” Kento looks outside as well, and notices it’s begun to rain. Your chuckle brings him back to you, and his heart stutters a little at the mischievous look on your face. “What?”

“I heard from Satoru that you’ve been looking for me. Coming to the bakery a lot to come see me.” Kento makes a noise in the back of his throat and his cheeks begin to go pink. “Did you miss me, Nanami?”

“I-” It’s no use, his cheeks are still getting darker. “No comment.” You burst into full laughter and Kento hangs his head, regretting the past month so much he could turn and leave the cafe.

“Well no need to worry, I’m here now!” Throwing your arms open, you hop off the stool and lean against the case housing the savory goods. “Now, what can I get for you?”

“Where were you?” He says instead. If he’s been caught red handed, he might as well keep digging his grave.

“My sister had a baby! I saved up all my vacation days so I could be with them!” You smiled brightly. Digging your phone out of your pocket, you showed him a picture of you holding a baby in your arms.

“Cute.” He wasn’t sure what was cuter, you with the baby, the baby by itself or just you. As he looked more at it, Kento found himself imagining what it would be like for you to be carrying his baby. Would you even want to start a family? Or perhaps-

“Nanami, are you okay?” Your question broke him out of his little fantasy.

“Huh?”

“Your face got all red, is it too hot in here? I can turn a fan on if you want.”

“N-no.” Clearing his throat, Nanami shook his head. “No. I’m fine.” Finally turning his attention to the case, he looked at what was left. “I’ll have that one.” Pointing to the first thing he saw, he’s surprised you know exactly what he meant.

“Do you want to take it to go? It’d be best for you to get home quickly since it’s raining!” The night sky had fully blanketed the world outside, a nice curtain of rain along with it. Kento didn’t need to think over his decision. He’d be going home in the rain either way, what was the use in just going back to an empty apartment?

“I’ll eat it here. No sense rushing out into the rain to just be alone at home.” With a shrug, his suit jacket came off, and he could see the way you looked at his arms as he pushed his sleeves up. “Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t fall asleep again.”

A little peep left your lips and your face burned with embarrassment. Kento grinned, chuckling to himself and tossing his jacket on a chair near him.

“I’ll have a coffee too, just a small black.”

“No way!” You puff out your cheeks in indignation. “Coffee will keep you up all night! I’ll make you some tea.” Kentos mouth falls open, a little surprised you stood up to him like that. You pay him no mind, turning your back to begin brewing his tea. Closing his mouth, Kento takes a seat in the chair with his jacket.

“Alright, I’ll have tea then.”

First confession

Nanami ended up staying the whole night with you in the bakery, until you had to close

You left the counter and sat with him at the table with your own cup of tea and a seemingly never ending slew of topics to talk about

You were like Gojo, but much more tolerable. A person Nanami could respect, and much cuter than Gojo as well

Somehow, the night had ended with him getting your number, and although he made no promises about being a good correspondent, you still insisted

Any friend of Gojos was a friend of you, apparently

Sometimes you messaged him things about the bakery and he did his best to respond in a timely manner

Others he took the initiative and would message you to ask about your day in the evening or if you were working during the day so he could come see you

And on the lucky chance you were working early in the morning and he had nothing to do, he went to see you

“Hi.” You nearly sang the word when you saw him. He was the first customer of the day, a great way to start an early morning shift.

“How are you?” Kento asks, a soft smile also on his face. Walking right up to the counter, he sees the way you lean against it to be closer to him.

“I’m good! Excited too, we got this new seasonal item.” Your eyes are practically sparkling and with a grin Nanami hums and nods for you to continue. “I know you don’t like sweets, but I really want you to try-”

“(Y/N)!” A crass shout interrupts you and the slamming of the bakery door against the wall makes you jump. Immediately, both you and Kento are looking at the intrusion; Kento in annoyance and you in slight fear.

There are three men waltzing up to the counter, all of them with scary expressions on and clothes that reek of nicotine. The one that had yelled at you was a man with a scar on his lip and a shaved head, tattoos peeking up from his shirt collar. The other two behind him look just as scary, if not more.

“W-what- what do you want?” Kento doesn’t miss the way you’ve started to shake and he takes a subtle step closer to the counter.

“I just wanna know why you’re not returning my calls, that’s it!” This man shouts even though he’s close enough that the sheer volume of his voice makes you flinch. Balling your apron up in your fists, you try not to cower away as he gets right up against the counter.

“I t-told you I-I don’t like you!” You try to raise your voice as well but it doesn’t work. Everyone can see that you’re scared, the trembling of your voice is just more proof.

“Yeah? Well I like you.” The man goes to slap his hand against the counter, but Kento catches his wrist before he can. “Hey, who the fuck are you?”

“A customer that doesn’t like the disturbance you’re causing.” Kento lets the man's wrist go when he pulls on it. Sizing the man up, Kento knows he can take all three of them without an issue, it would be as easy as getting up in the morning. Taking a look at you however, he wanted to avoid causing you anymore distress.

“Like I give a fuck, salaryman.” Flipping him off, the man turns back to you. “Now you li-” Kento punches the man in the face before he can keep talking, sending him flying into the other two.

“I don’t appreciate you talking to (Y/N) like that.” Raising his fists, Kento easily takes down the other two men that charge at him, and he doesn’t break a sweat doing it. The fight - if it could even be called one - lasts all of two minutes.

Making sure the men on the ground won’t move, Kento looks at you. There’s slight tears in your eyes and some on your cheeks and you’re still shaking, but you don’t look as scared as you did. Grabbing the man that had harassed you, Kento forced him to his feet.

“Apologize.”

“As if I’d-” The man starts, but Kento has no patience anymore and swiftly punches him in the liver.

“Try again.”

“I-I’m sorry, (Y/N)!” Choking the words out, the man looks at you with blood in his eyes. “If this psycho is gonna hang around you now, I don’t want any part of you!”

“Good answer.” Dropping him to the floor, Kento kicks him towards the door. “Now get out of here.” He doesn’t have to say it twice for the men to leave. As the door slams closed, Kento hears you break into sobs.

“N-Nanami!” You whine and sob out his name, drawing the last syllable out. Looking at you, Kento coos under his breath seeing your balled up fists near your eyes.

“It’s okay.” He says, watching you walk around the counter and stand in front of him.

“Th-ank yo-you!” The thanks you’re trying to give him barely sounds like real words and in any other situation he’d be embarrassed for you.

“It’s okay.” He says again with a soft sigh, pulling you closer until your head is resting on him. Rubbing a soothing hand on your back, Kento lets you soak his jacket and his shirt with your tears for as long as you need. And by the time you pull away from him, he’s full on hugging you, and you’re hugging him back.

“Sorry.” Your eyes go down to his stained shirt.

“Don’t mind it.” Shaking his head, Kento slowly lets you go. “Who was that, anyway?”

“Just some guy who asked for my number like a week ago.” Wiping away the last of your tears, you look out the window in slight disgust. “I had no idea he would get so...aggressive when I turned him down. It’s not my fault I don’t want to date a criminal.”

“Has he been calling you a lot? He said you weren’t answering.”

“Yeah, I blocked him but he kept calling from different numbers.” Your breathing is back to normal now, the tears that made your lashes cling together were finally drying.

“Give me his number. If he causes you trouble again, I’ll handle it.” Kento holds out his hand, not giving you very much of a choice in the matter. But after seeing how easily he took them down the first time, you weren’t about to withhold it from him.

Ten minutes later, after making sure you’re completely fine and calm, Kento makes an order. He takes two of the seasonal items you’d mentioned, not that he’ll eat both, but he wants to make you feel better.

“I’ll be back to walk you home.” Kento says as he’s leaving, ignoring your shouts that he doesn’t have to. He’d rather not risk those guys following you or doing anything shady.

True to his word he comes back when you’re done for the day, waiting outside for you. When you come, he makes sure you’re standing close to him along the way. It’s silent at first, just the sounds of other people walking by and some traffic one street over filling the air.

“Thank you again, Nanami.” You say as you stop at an intersection. You’d messaged him thanks throughout the day, but it still didn’t feel enough. “To be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to do that sort of thing!” Neither was he. It just happened, a snap decision he made to protect you. He liked you, and seeing you shake like that was something he never wanted to see again.

“I’d do it again.” Is what Kento says, looking up as the sun burns orange-yellow streaks across the sky. “I really like you, and I don’t want that sort of thing to ever happen again.” He lets out a sigh, looking at you from the corner of his eye. People are walking around you, but neither of you make a move to cross the street. “If it’s not too much to ask, don’t talk to any other guys, okay?”

Your eyes widen at his question, lips quivering to fight back a pleased smile. You open your mouth once, twice, before closing it and biting your lip, a shy giggle coming out.

“Okay.” You say with a nod.

“Good.” Lowering his head, Kento softly grabs your hand in his. “Let’s get you home now.”

First date

Even though he’d confessed, the two of you had yet to go on a proper date

Nanami was sweeter to you now, holding your hand on your walks home when he came to get you and he’d hug you if you asked(one day he’d take initiative and hug you first lol)

He wants to ask you on a proper date, but he’s worried that you’ll find him boring

The opportunity arises, however, when Gojo texts you from his phone and sets up a date for the two of you in a park, a picnic date on a day he knows Nanami has off

“K-Kento!” You wave at him as you both approach the park from different ways. You’d only just started saying his first name and it made you feel shy every time you did. “You’re dressed so casually!” Gone was his normal suit and tie, Nanami had on a looser button up and some sensible jeans.

“You look nice too.” Kento smiled, he had seen pictures of you not in your uniform, and sometimes you changed out of it after work, but this was the first time you were dressed with the intention to be cute. He could smell the perfume you were wearing as well, wafting pleasantly through the air and surrounding him when he sits down on the blanket you laid out.

“You know, I was surprised you asked me out on a date.” You say shyly as you both settle down.

“I didn’t.” His answer has you confused and you halt your actions. “Gojo did it for me. I was going to do it myself but...I thought you’d think I’m boring.”

“Never!” Your hand lands on top of his and you shake your head. “You’re not boring at all!”

“Hm, okay then.” Nodding at you, he motions towards the basket you’d brought.

“I made treats at home, look!” Excitedly, you take out the food you’d prepared. It’s all wrapped up cutely in butcher paper, and there’s some smiley face stickers keeping the paper together.

“It looks great.” Stretching out his legs, Kento leans his upper body close to you, nearly resting his head on your shoulder. “You did a great job.” He can smell you even better, the heat of your skin is just barely reaching him.

“You haven’t even tried it yet.” With a bashful little laugh, you unwrap a sandwich you’d made and give it to him.

“I can just tell.” Taking it from you, Kento lets himself rest on your shoulder.

First kiss

Sometime during the picnic, after eating, Nanami finds himself a little tired

It’s so relaxing being out with you, and the afternoon sun is just the right temperature for him to slowly slide from your shoulder onto your lap and doze off

Your hand cards through his hair, gently massaging his head and pushing him deeper into slumber

With his body laid out, Nanami doesn’t even realize he’s asleep until a sharp scream from a playing child rouses him, but he keeps his eyes closed in hopes he’ll go back to sleep

There’s a soft pressure on his forehead, you’re bending down over him and the light filtering in through the tree above you is blocked out for a moment before you’re sitting up again. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you kissed his forehead.

Cracking an eye open, Kento grins at you when you make a surprised noise in the back of your throat and look away from him.

“I-I didn’t know you were awake.” You mutter, embarrassed at being caught. You wouldn’t have kissed him if you’d known; you were too embarrassed to ask for a kiss, and you weren’t sure if Kento even had an interest in taking your relationship there.

He doesn’t answer, instead taking a deep breath through his nose and sitting up slightly. With a light hand, Kento turns you to face him. He doesn’t get up all the way, but as soon as your face is close enough he pushes up a bit more and kisses you properly on the lips, feeling the smooth glide of your lip balm.

When the kiss breaks, neither of you open your eyes for a while. Kento just keeps his face close, brushing his nose against yours a few times before giving you another peck and then laying down again.

“You don’t have to be shy (Y/N), I want you to kiss me.” He’s keeping his eyes closed now, not because of the sun but because his cheeks are blushing and he knows you can see. His arms that were previously at his sides come to cross his chest, and he pushes his head further into your lap. “We’re dating now, so just do what you want.”

A soft gasp is heard above him and Kento grins when you giggle and brush his hair again.

“Okay.” Leaning down, you give him a firmer kiss on the forehead, and one of your hands grabs his.

“Okay.” He echoes, pulling your hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. You squeeze it tightly and giggle again, overwhelmed by the feeling of happiness. Letting out a yawn, Kentos small grin gets even bigger when you cup his cheek and he opens his eyes to look at you. Suddenly, he’s not so tired anymore.

[itsthewritergal]

I was worried - Odd One Out part 4 - Weasley!Reader x D.M

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 

Draco had searched the castle, high and low. Every single place Y/N and him had found last year, yet she wasn’t anywhere to be found. Draco didn’t expect to find her in the Common Room, he cursed himself silently as it now seemed so obvious that she was here. She stood by the large windows looking out into the depths of the Black Lake, she really loved the views from the Common Room.  She’d even persuaded Draco and the others to move the nicest sofa over so that she could watch the lake as they spoke. Draco of course wasn’t very happy about it all, but once Y/N asked he gave in instantly, somehow she had wormed her way underneath his skin, much to his friends amusement of course. Draco slowed once he realised she wasn’t alone, there were a few first years gathered around the window next to her, her voice rung through the common room

“And on the sunny days the sun shines through the window and it casts this beautiful light all through the room” She said with a kind smile, Draco grinned as he remembered the words he had spoken to her on her first night

“But the Gryffindor’s said we were bad” One first year said

“They said we’re with You Know Who” Another added

“Well they’re wrong” Taylor said with a pitiful smile at Y/N

“Completely wrong, you chose your own path. And here you can be anyone you want” She said ignoring the look from her friend, Y/N’s eyes landed on Draco who stood leaning against the wall with a goofy look on his face. She grinned at him then turned back to the first years

“Anyone?” One asked “Anyone at all” Y/N said “You know when I got sorted last year I begged the hat to change its mind. But the hat knows best, I’ve made friends who I know I’ll have for life now. And i wouldn’t change it for the world” She grinned

“Y/N?” a girl said “You’re a Weasley, what do your family think of you being a Slytherin?” She asked, Draco knew there was no malice behind the words but he saw how they cut through Y/N’s facade for a moment

“They know this is the best place for me” She said with a faltering smile

“Last one to the dorms is a slimy frog” Taylor said quickly bursting into a run towards the dorms. The first years laughing behind her. Y/N was left alone. Her attention turned to Draco who moved closer to her,

“I thought they were my lines” He smirked

“Shove off, I was only comforting them” She said

“The hat should have put you in Hufflepuff you’re so soft” He laughed as he pulled her down onto the sofa with him, she landed on his lap with a huff

“You’re an idiot” She said clambering off of him and placing her next to him with her feet laying on his lap

“I’m an idiot that’s been looking around the castle for you” He said, the worry appearing back on his face

“Why would you do that?” Y/n said

“Cause I was worried about you” Draco said gently

“I’m fine” She said tiredly

“You don’t have to lie to me” He said brushing a strand of hair from her face

“I’m used to it, I’ve had it all summer” She said quietly fiddling with her fingers, Draco placed his hand on top of hers stopping her from pulling at the skin around her nails.

“You’re staying with me then next summer” He said firmly

“I couldn’t do that to your family that’s not fair” “Mother loves you, it would be an honour” He chuckled

“ooh already getting an invite to the manor, where have I gone wrong” Blaise laughed as he landed heavily on the sofa

“You don’t look like Y/N” Crabbe laughed

“That’s enough” Draco snapped, he caught the way Crabbe looked at Y/N and it made his skin crawl. Y/N shifted in her seat

“I’m going to go to bed, I’ll see you guys in the morning” She hummed tiredly

“Night” Draco said with a smile.

— — — — —

Y/N had heard about the Buckbeak incident, it had been all over the school by lunch. Typical Draco she thought making a mountain out of nothing, Pansy had apparently been doting on him all morning in the hospital wing, Y/N was sure Draco loved all that. She told herself not to be jealous, that she and Draco were only friends and he saw her as only a friend, but the thought of Pansy all over him made her angry. Really angry. She walked into the Great Hall for dinner with a scowl on her face, she had lied to her friend and said it was because of her bad grade in potions which was partly true; Snape had been particularly rude and horrid to Y/N today. Her scowl deepened when she saw Pansy sitting with Draco with her arm around her shoulder, and Draco’s arm in a sling. Y/N sat a few seats away from Draco, who tried to get her attention as she sat down. Y/N noticed the looks she got from Draco and her other friends but she decided to ignore them.

“Does it hurt terribly Draco?” Pansy doted on him, Draco replied but Y/N didn’t bother to listen. Instead she pushed her plate a little away from her and walked out of the great hall, she heard some whispers, but that was nothing new to her. She was a Slytherin Weasley having people talk about her was practically her birthright. The Slytherin common room was practically empty, with a few students getting ready to head to dinner. Y/N sat herself down on her favourite sofa, and settled her mind on getting her potions work done.

“Missed you at dinner” Crabbe said sitting down next to her, Y/N looked around for Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had always given her the creeps. Y/N didn’t respond “Come on Y/N, talk to me” He begged, the tone made her skin crawl,

“I’m busy” She said simply, she had hoped Crabbe would get the message, Draco would have noticed the fear in her voice, but he wasn’t here

“Do you not like me then?” Crabbe said, Y/N left Crabbe on the sofa and sat herself down at one of the desks at the side of the room, Much to her disappointment Crabbe followed her and sat opposite her

“I can help you with your homework” he offered

“You’re bad at potions, so no thank you” She said with a tight smile “I Can still help” He argued

“No” She shut him down, turning her eyes back down to the work in front of her, only for her leg to get kicked by the boy in front of her “What?” She asked scowling at Crabbe “Why don’t you like me?” He asked “You should go out with me then i’d show you” He said

“Don’t you understand what no means?” Y/N snapped,

“woah Y/N” Blaise said walking into the common room, with Draco and Pansy following “You alright?” He asked

“He won’t leave me alone” She snapped angrily, feeling her emotions bubble up at the sight of her friends

“That’s not true” Crabbe argued “She was leading me on”

“Why don’t we go on a walk?” Draco asked Y/N

“No thanks, it seems like you’ve got your hands full with Pansy” She snapped turning on her heel and storming off to the dorms.

— — — — —

Y/N was up early, sitting in the common room already dressed for the school day ahead. She watched the giant squid as it swam up and down past the windows. Her fingers played with the frayed edges of her knitted jumper, it reminded her of home. She didn’t feel a home at Hogwarts this year, the sofa dipped next to her pulling her out of her thoughts.

“You’re up early” Draco said gently

“Yeah” She said not once looking at him, she didn’t want to or need to. Although the sling caught the corner of her eye, she wasn’t going to dote on him as well

“Crabbe was out of order, I’ve sorted him out” Draco said draping his good arm across the sofa behind Y/N

“I was handling it” she snapped

“I was only trying to help Y/N” Draco replied

“Right well I should go and sort out my books for the day” Y/N knew it was a bad lie but nothing else had come to mind

“Have I done soemthing?” Draco said impatiently

“No Draco you haven’t” She said not daring to look at him, scared that she would break apart

“Clearly I have because You’ve been avoiding me” Draco snapped “I’ve noticed, ever since yesterday you’ve barely said two words to me”

“You’re making things up Draco” She replied turning with a scowl plastered on her face “Y/N,” he said seriously “has someone said something?” “It’s nothing” She said gently

“I know you too well for that to work” Draco said taking a step towards her, he towered over her. She hadn’t noticed just how much he had grown before

“I don’t like it” She said quietly

“I’m going to need more than that darling” he said

“I don’t like seeing Pansy all over you, she’s acting like you’re hers. It’s pathetic” She snapped

“You know what Pansy is like darling, pay no attention to her” Draco said “I don’t” She defended herself

“There’s something else Y/N, I know there is” he said gently coaxing her back towards the sofa

“Last night when Crabbe was being weird with me, I couldn’t do anything. I felt so powerless, I didn’t like it” She said

“I won’t let anything like that happen to you again. I promise” Draco said

“Does your arm hurt badly?” Y/N asked gently her fingers brushing over the sling

“not really, I just wanted to see how much homework I can avoid doing” He chuckled, not admitting how much he adored watching Y/N gently touch his hand,

“Nothing’s going to happen to Buckbeak right?” she asked

“No, I don’t want anything to happen to him. It’s why I haven’t told my parents yet” Draco said gently “Promise you’ll try and stop them if they do anything”  She said gently

Draco brushed her face with his good hand. A smile graced his lips,

“I promise”

Taglist :)

@whitewineandpizzapuffs

@planet-naptune

@thefandomplace

@sebby-staan

@witch-and-a-half

@nojamsonmytoast

@seanh-boredom

@wanniiieeee

@louweasleymalfoy

Odd one out taglist

@loxbbg

[spencersmagic]

Middle of Adventure - 505 series.

(found on pinterest).

masterlist // 505 series // taglist

summary: a part two to "greet me with good bye" (found here)

couple: fem reader x spencer reid

category: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: general criminal minds violence, mentions of guns, curse words (f*ck/f*cking), crying.

words: 1.8k

time to read: 10 minutes.

***

It was quite ironic.

The space between them had never felt as empty, as ruined, as it did right now. It felt like the love, the care that they had had for each other all those years back, all the patience and truth they had shared, had been stolen. The woman in front of them had done it for them.

The last two years seemed empty now. Emotionless. Worthless.

The feelings they had for each other had always been unspoken. Excluding a few instances, core instances that needed verbal confirmation, they had always understood each other without having to share a word. They were both profilers, for God’s sake.

Spencer’s fidgeting in the plane rides on the way back from a tough case was always understood by Y/N. She had always made sure to hold him, caress his hair or read to him when he was feeling anxious. Similarly, when she was feeling weird after an uncomfortable encounter with a disgusting unsub, closing in on herself, carrying herself differently, he would always pick up on it. He’d cover her with a blanket and tell her random facts about the stars, or lemons, or the first shoes discovered… Anything that could get her mind away from the filthy words he had spewed at her.

There were no words exchanged between. Because they always knew what the other needed.

Because they cared. And they wanted the other to be okay.

The lack of words didn’t mean a lack of communication. There was constantly a line of communication between the two of them, established through body language, looks and short beginnings of sentences right before the other picked up on what they wanted. Everything was clear between them. They always just knew.

This had taken time. Of course, it had. At first, they were clumsy. Y/N’s anxiety attacks had gone worse once when he had tried to distract her by talking about the climate crisis (a horrible idea, if you ask me). Similarly, she had learned that after Spencer’s rare, but long talks with Hotch weren’t the moment to make sarcastic comments about, well, anything.

All they had was silence and the promise to love the other if they needed it.

But right now, as they stood in front of the unsub, then woman who had been tormenting Spencer for the past few months with little letters, threats and promises to hurt everybody he knew and loved (or at least everybody who was left), it felt like nothing could ever be the same.

She had called herself “The Woman”, which Y/N understood. She wanted to be everything to Spencer.

She stood still, calmly, knowingly. Because nothing he did could change the course of action that was about to occur tonight. The stillness in the weapon she had aimed at Y/N made sure to make that clear.

“Why would I need to break up with her, Clara? Y/N and I aren’t together” Spencer repeated calmly, trying to focus on his training so he could try to ignore the soft sobs that Y/N was letting out.

The gun rattled as Clara shook in anger.

“Bullshit! I’ve seen you together. For God’s sakes, I’ve seen the way you fucking look at her. You-“she laughed manically “You look at her like she’s hung the fucking stars – like you’re supposed to look at me! So don’t you dare fucking lie to me “. She was met with silence.

“You know…” tears welled in her eyes, strong façade faltering. “You were going to come back. We were supposed to meet, and you were supposed to love me like I have all these years. You abandoned me!” she screamed. “And now you’re with-with her”.

Nothing.

“Do it or I will shoot her!” she screamed, sending spit flying around. Flinching, she shakily repeated Clara’s words.

“Do it, Spencer. I can take it” she spoke clearly, forcing her voice to sound unworried.

It was quite ironic. Because they had been in a similar situation at the beginning of their relationship. And it would end like this, too.

“I can’t, Y/N. Y-you know I can’t! Why are you making me do this?!” he raised his voice suddenly, ripping his lungs open as he sunk down onto the floor. He crumbled upon himself as he sobbed. “I can’t. I can’t do it, Y/N.” he repeated over and over, the last bit of self-restraint leaving his body. “I can’t do it. You are everything. I c-can’t hurt” he hiccupped.

Y/N’s eyes absorbed Spencer every little movement and tremble. She felt as though he had kept her heart right up until this moment, bubble wrapped and intact, but now he was crushing it as he hugged himself tightly. It was too much to bear.

“Spencer, if you don’t do it, I will” she whispered. He looked up, tear eyed, and looked at Clara. Her smile was wide now, red nose, enjoying the scene that was unfolding in front of her. Spencer stood up shakily.

“Clara, you were my classmate in school. Having the chance to go to university, don’t you think I had to take it? Did- Didn’t you want what’s best for me?” he tried to reason. “You love me, right? Don’t you want me to be happy?”. She smiled sadly at him.

“I do. But not if it’s with her”.

He turned to Y/N, eyes filled with tears. “Y/N” he requested. Still, she couldn’t bear looking at him. “Y/N! Y/N. Please look at me” he shook. She turned.

“Y/N…” he whispered, taking a look at her, bloody and beaten. “Y/N, I can’t live without you. Since I met you, I haven’t been able to.” He paused. “You’re everything. I don’t how to live without you”.

“Spencer, you will have to learn. The middle of an adventure is such a perfect place to start” she whispered back. His face changed completely, eyes wide and surprised.

**

“Oh god! This is so tedious. When can we leave?” had whispered Reid, curling a lock of her hair around his finger.

“We’re here as guests, Spencer. It would be rude of us to leave” she had reprimanded him, seemingly unaltered by his puppy dog eyes.

“But-but my love” he all-but-whined. “I wanna go home”.

“Yeah? You “wanna go home”? Or are your pants getting a little bit too tight from staring down my top?” she shot back. He didn’t dare reply.

“Do you want to play, or not?” Y/N clarified. He nodded eagerly. She grabbed him by the hair as they slow-danced in the middle of the lounge with the other couples at Rossi’s new wife’s mansion.

She pulled him close, lips close to his ear in such a way that appeared innocent to outsiders. Her words, though, were another story.

“Okay, love. “Adventure” is our safe-word. I’m going to tease you and, the moment I bring up that word in conversation that’ll mean that you’ve done well and should now play along. I’ll make up some excuse and we can leave this god-awful party. Sounds good?” once again, he nodded eagerly.

**

“You know, Clara. Maybe you’re right” Spencer begun, looking into her eyes. “If she’s so okay with letting me go, she clearly doesn’t deserve my time” he swallowed his tears, hoping he was being convincing.

Clearly, Clara didn’t need a lot of convincing. After all, she had been looking for every single indicator in his words and looks in front of the camera to believe he was madly in love with her, and seeking her out.

She lowered the now-forgotten weapon, throwing it on the ground and herself on Spencer.

“You really think so, my love?”

A pet name Spencer had heard coming from Y/N, and had never felt as disgusting as it did in that moment. Spencer couldn’t even think about what it was doing to her.

He just nodded, hugging her back as convincingly as possible.

Sometimes, we do what we can to make our loved ones happy. Sometimes, we stay. Other times, we leave. We give and give for them. At the end of the day, it’s human nature to want to created strong bonds with those you love the most.

Spencer and Y/N weren’t an exception. They gave so much to each other – to their relationship. They loved with such a love that is only seen in movies, with a passion that only occurs during the darkest hours, and a heart that has only been broken and mended over and over.

In retrospection, Clara is no different either.

As Spencer pushed her off, Y/N threw herself to the ground to grab the gun, did a somersault and pointed it at her. Right on cue, Morgan and Prentiss burst into the old warehouse, pointing their guns at Clara.

“Step away from my boyfriend, you bitch”.

**

It felt almost surreal.

Especially to Spencer, who had been battling with the thought of her for the past three months. It felt like this moment would never come – like a breach in the space-time continuum had been formed and he was now experiencing a reality parallel to his own.

But feeling Y/N’s touch, hearing their mutual comforting words, stumbling like their relationship had been, was grounding. Perhaps not comfortable, or stable, of secure just yet. But it sent a message to both of them. “No matter what happens, no matter how many variations exist in your life, I will never be one. I’ll always be here”.

“You were supposed to come back! You were supposed to love me, and give me a beautiful life. Why didn’t you?” they heard Clara screaming. Tears were streaming down her face as the cop sat her down.

“You could’ve sent a letter, Clara” he reached to grab her handcuffs, which were clasped behind her. Y/N watched the entire scene unfold before her eyes, tears still cascading down her cheeks.

“Would that have made any difference?”

“It’s time to go, Ms. Sondermann”.

“Would it? Or would you have stayed with her?”Spencer stayed silent. “Don’t think you’re anything better than me. You did everything for her! Just like I did. You’re no different than me.” she screamed, as Prentiss pulled her away.

Spencer turned to look into Y/S’s eyes. She looked so different when the fear of losing her wasn’t looming around. Tired, of course, from the three day search, but hopeful.

He hadn’t seen her hopeful in so long.

As he closed in on her, looking so purely loving, she immediately understood. the dust settled and she realized just how much he had been through.

She suddenly understood.

**

The lack of words never meant a lack of communication.

There were no words exchanged between. Because they always knew what the other needed.

She spread her arms, ready for his embrace at the same time he ducked his head to hold her around the waist. His lips twitched, all the unspoken words at the top of his tongue.

“i-i know, love. i know” she spoke between sobs.

Everything was clear between them. They always just knew.

**

guys that's the end of the 505 series!!! i hope you liked it.

i'm super sad that it's ending, but the fics i've got in mind are really cool, and i can't wait to write them + share them with you all <3

(im lowkey feeling nostalgic - i've fallen in love with this take on the characters and their dynamic).

taglist: @lady-anon-x @username2002 @eoupe @galaxydefenderjulia @spencerreid-mgg @spenxerslut @urie-bowie-mercury @onyourfingertips @big-galaxy-chaos @fiftyshadesofspencerreid @tbuhgs @exhaleli

tags not working: @huntheimpossible @idontwantyourcookiesthanks

you can join my taglist on the link at the top

happy reading. i love you. stay safe and happy <3

[adezahnae]

While Mommy’s on a Little Trip (Part 3)

A/N: HELLOO!! TODAY IS PART 3!! sadly this mini-series will be ending soon🥺 I hope you enjoy☺️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 2.5 | Part 3 | Part 4

Warnings: NSFW, smut, cheating, secrets, angst?, oral (fem. receiving), public sex, dirty talk, spanking, squirting, creampie, fingering, stepdaughter!student!reader x dilf!stepdad!mathteacher!jaehyun ft. dilf!boss!doyoung

Tagged Ppl: @softieekayy @seungmoomin @keeach @seoyutayong @whoreforshuaaa @mrg-jjh

Your POV

I felt someone poking my cheek making me scrunch my nose. “Baby...Baby wake up..” I heard Mr. Jung whisper. I opened my eyes to see his beautiful smile. I smiled back. “Good Morning..” He said in his morning voice, making me shiver. “G-Good Morning, Daddy..” I said. He kissed my forehead. I turned over to see the time 10:23am on the clock. I gasped. “Daddy! School we’re-“ “Baby, it’s Saturday.” He said.

I breathed out and laid back down. “Then why did you wake me up? I was dreaming.” I pouted. “About me and you, I know.” He said. I cocked my head. “How?” I asked sitting up. “You moaned in your sleep the same words you said when we first fooled around.” He smirked. I blushed and looked away embarrassed. He laughed at me. “Aww Princess, it’s okay. I still think about that day as well..” He said pulling me into his lap. “Really?” I asked. He nodded his head. He put a kiss to my lips but I back away, scurrying off of him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “I have Morning breath..” I mumbled. He smiled at my cuteness. “Well, go and get ready. I’m taking you out for the day.” He said getting out of bed. “Where are we going?” I asked. “Firstly, for food because I’m starving and then, wherever you like.” He smiled. I squealed and jumped on him, hugging him.

“Thank you!!” I said. I jumped off of him and ran down to my room. “Daddy loves me!!” I yelled going down the halls. After I got dressed, I went downstairs and grabbed my bag. “I’m ready!” I said. He was already by the door, looking good as ever. He wore a black T-Shirt with black skinny jeans and black shoes, along with dressing it up with his sliver necklace and watch along with a black hat.

“Come on, Princess.” He said opening the door for me. We got in the car and fastened our seatbelts. I was about to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned his head, making me kiss him on the lips. I giggled and hit his arm. He smiled and pulled off. We rode pass many buildings on the city watching the sun reflect off of them. Just me and him. No one to stop us from loving each other...

Mia POV

“Doyoung..yes...” I moaned gripping his hair. He hummed against me, sending vibrations through my body. This is so wrong...lying to my daughter and husband about going on a business trip, knowing that I’m here, sleeping with my boss. He looked up at me with such lustful eyes making me forget about my guilt. He pulled away and came back up to kiss me. He then looked away. “What’s wrong?” I asked sitting up.

“Are you thinking about him?” He asked me with his jaw clenched. I stuttered. “N-No, I-“ “Then why do you have the look of guilt on your face?” Doyoung asked. I looked away from him, sighing. “Do you love him?” He asked now looking at me. I avoided his gaze. It’s no secret that I love Jaehyun. He’s a great father and husband to me and my daughter. I know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, but I’m hurting him. By cheating on him with his best friend.

Doyoung scoffed got off the bed. “Doyoung wait.” I said grabbing his hand. “What, Mia?” He replied back. “Don’t leave me...I need you..” I said. “Then if you need me, say it.” He said sternly. He gripped my chin and looked at me. “Say it, Mia. Tell me that you want me and that you need me..” he ordered. I looked in his eyes, taking his thumb in my mouth, sucking on it. I pulled away and told him. “I want you and I need you, Doyoung. I love you, only you...” He placed a kiss on my lips and laid me back down. “Good...” He mumbled against my neck.

“I’m taking you back home tomorrow and you are packing your things and coming with me.” He said. I breathed out. “Okay..” I whispered. He laid down on the bed pulled me on top of him. “Show me how much you love me..” He smirked. I smiled back and leaned down to give him a kiss. “Yes sir..”

Your POV

“Do you like this one, Princess?” He asked me holding up a red dress. I walked towards him and smiled. “I do, but don’t you think you’ve bought enough?” I asked. He chuckled at me and grabbed the dress anyway going to the cash register, ready to check out of the store. “Daddy!” I said following behind him. “I can never spend too much when it comes to you.” He said pinching my cheek. I huffed and grabbed my allowance.

“Here.” I said handing him the money. He looked at me confused. “Sweetheart what’s this?” He asked. “My allowance for the past month. It’s $105. Just use it to pay for it.” I said. He scoffed and smiled. He took the money and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out 5 $100 dollar bills and handed it to me along with my allowance. “Here.” He said.

I looked a him with disbelief. “Dad-“ “You take it and go find two more pairs of shoes or whatever you want to spend it on.” He said. “But I-“ “Princess, are you going against Daddy’s orders?” He asked in warning tone. I shook my head. “No Daddy..” He replied. “Good, now go and get what you want.” He smiled. I hugged him and ran off to the shoe aisle.

As I was looking at shoes, I heard someone calling me. “Hey! Hey Y/n!” They said. I turned in the direction the voice came from and seen the same boy from my class who tried to give me his number. I sighed. “What is it, Adam?” I asked looking at shoes. “What are you doing here?” He asked. I looked at him. “Adam you need to go, like now.” I said. “Why?” He asked getting closer while looking around. “Because I’m here with my dad now go! You know what he said in class! He doesn’t play about that stuff!!” I exclaimed, nervously still peeking in his direction. He was too busy looking at more clothes so he couldn’t really see me. Adam laughed.

“What? I can handle our big, buff and bad teacher.” He said exaggerating his voice. I laughed at little at his joke attempt. “Oh! A smile..I finally made you smile.” He said smiling back. We were then having a small conversation until I heard footsteps behind me.

I turned around seeing that it was Mr. Jung. I gasped. “Daddy I-“ “Come here, Y/n.” He said calmly. I rushed to his side and seen him approaching Adam. “Dad, he’s okay.” I said. “Adam, where’s your phone?” Mr. Jung asked completely ignoring me. Adam felt around for his phone, not getting a sign that his phone was on him. Mr. Jung pulled Adam’s phone from his pocket. He then looked at the text messages and showed them to me. I took the phone and read them.

Adam: I’m gonna get Y/n you just wait!

Ethan (Friend): You still haven’t gotten in her pants?

Adam: No! But I will!

Ethan: No you lost the bet! You haven’t fucked her yet so...

Adam: I will! Just give me two more days!

Ethan: Fine. Time is ticking😈

I looked at Adam with disbelief. “You tried to just get into my pants?!” I asked walking up to him, but Mr. Jung held me back. “Y/n! I wasn’t trying to-“ I threw his phone at him. “Go to hell Adam! Don’t you ever talk to me again!” I yelled. I walked off away from Adam. “You bitch-“ Before he could finish the sentence, Mr. Jung punched him in his mouth.

I ran over to grab Mr. Jung and pulled him away from Adam. “Let’s go, Daddy! Come on!” I said going to the cash register. I put the boxes of shoes on the top, letting the cashier scan the clothes. “$1,295 dollars and 56 cents.” He said. Mr. Jung pulled out his credit card and handed to the cashier.

The cashier looked at me and smiled. “That guy back there was for sure wrong..” He said. I nod. “I know.” I replied. “If you were my girlfriend, I would never let that happen to you. Ever..” He said grabbing my hand. I smiled but then I froze and looked at Mr. Jung, who was burning holes in his eyes. Mr. Jung took he card back, along with the clothes. “Excuse me, but we’re not done shopping.” He said.

He took my hand and led me to the back where the dressing rooms were. He pushed me in the room and closed the door and locked it. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Pull your pants and panties down, don’t make me tell you twice.” He said pulling off his hat and shirt. I pulled down my pants and panties waiting for his next instructions.

He walked up to me pushed me again the wall. He kissed on my neck and made his way down my chest. His hands went to my button up shirt and ripped my shirt open half and half. I gasped. “Daddy-“ “I’ll buy you a new one Princess.” He mumbled against my chest. He made his way to my heat. He took my legs and put them on his shoulders. He gave my clit a kiss, flicking his tongue over it. I gasped out and grabbed his hair. He made patterns with his tongue and licked a long slow stripe along my entire heat. He took two of his fingers and teased my hole, then pushing them in.

“D-Daddy..so good...” I whispered. He sped up his pace, bring me closer and closer to my high. He looked up at me and sucked on my clit. “I-I’m...Ohhhh!” I moaned. I reached my high and he pulled away. He stood up and tapped the back of my legs. “Jump.” He ordered. I jumped and his picked me up, placing me on the wall again. He unbuckled his pants and pulled them down just enough to let himself free.

He slammed me down on his member, making me scream out. Luckily, it was just me and him back here. He started at a brutal pace, making me cry out. “Wait! I-It’s too much!” I said tapping his shoulder but clearly enjoying the pace. “It seems like my Princess needs to be reminded that she’s mine and no else’s.” He grunted going harder than before. He took my arms and pinned them against the wall above me. I whimpered out at the pace.

He put me down and turned me around. “Hands on the wall.” He ordered. I put my arms on the wall and arched my back, the way he liked it. He gave me a smack on the ass and re-entered himself, still a brutal pace. He groaned out and gripped on my hair, yanking it a little. “Harder! Yank my hair harder!” I begged. He yanked my hair harder, making me clench around him, signaling that I was close. He bent down to my ear. “Don’t you even think about cumming right now. I mean that.” He ordered in a low voice.

I whimpered and pushed myself back on him, wanting it more harder than before. He slowed his pace really, really slow. I whined. “Daddy~” I said pushing back. He smacked me on my butt. “Beg for it.” He ordered. “I want it!!” I whined. “That’s not enough, Princess. I need more.” He smacked me on my butt again. “Please! Oh please Daddy, I need it. I want you to fuck me hard! Harder than before, please!! Plesseee!!” I whined shaking my butt back onto him. He spanked me again and went at a hard and fast pace. I whined out in pleasure.

“I’m so clossssee!” I said. “To whom you belong to?” He whispered in my ear. “Daddy! I belong to you daddy! Only you!” I ranted. “Cum.” He ordered. He kept hitting my spot as came, causing me to squirt. I cried tears as he continued to slam his hips against mines. He came after me with groans and growls. He rode out our highs and pulled out. Once he did, our cum ran down my legs, causing me to shake. He kissed me on my back and shoulders giving praise. “Good job, Princess..good job..” He mumbled.

My body stood still, shivering at the littlest touch. He looked in my bag and pulled out tissues. He cleaned up the mess on my legs and pussy and on the floor. He placed them in the trash can and grabbed my clothes. He placed my legs in the panties and slipped them on me along with my pants.

He dressed himself back up, looking as if he didn’t just have sex in a dressing room. “Stay right here.” He said. He walked out of the dressing room and grabbed a pretty black button up shirt from the rack, went to the cashier and paid for it and came back to me. He put in on me and buttoned it up for me. I gave him a weak smile. “Thank you...” I mumbled. He kissed on my forehead and smiled. “You’re welcome.”

He fixed my messy hair and he picked me up and put me on his back. He grabbed my bag and clothes, carrying me to the cash register. She rung us up to over $1,000 dollars. He happily paid and I grabbed the bags. And us leaving the store. I giggled as he ran down the sidewalk with me on his back.

[missymurphy1985]

The Groupie (part 5)

Warning - smut - sexting - filth.... Not even remotely sorry.

This is set in 2006/7, and Cillian has no children. Reader is a fan, has been since day one and is a plus size girl. I myself am a UK size 16, so I hope I don't offend anyone with my story (I'm writing about my own insecurities a little here so be kind please).

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni

A week had gone by, you'd gone to write numerous text messages without actually sending them. He was bound to be back in Ireland now, your chance probably gone anyway. you'd even contemplated texting Orla but your nerves once again got the better of you. Ella had been away with her boyfriend all week, but had come back that morning and the two of you were catching up over breakfast.

"So tell me how you know Orla Murphy?" You asked, pouring your coffee.

"I went to school with her! I lived in Ballintemple for a couple of years in my teens, and we stayed in touch. When I saw what happened at the bar I called her to see what was going on. She told me what had happened."

"So you know Cillian too?"

"Of course - that's why he was at the bar that night, I invited them both! Even though he's the oldest and she's the youngest, they've always been the closest of the four Murphy's. He's been trying to get me a record contract!"

"Really? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know you knew him so um... well..."

"Yeah... God I'm such an idiot!! Why can't I just text him?"

"Because those old nerves are playing tricks on you again. Give me your phone."

"What? No!" She was too quick for you. Snatching your phone, she ran off upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom, ignoring your pleas from the other side of the door. She emerged a few minutes later, smirking, handing you your phone back. You quickly opened your texts and you stared at her, open mouthed.

"Ella!!! You can't start a conversation with someone like that!!"

"What? Should get his attention, right?" She winked, before heading to her room. You groaned at the text she'd sent - "You wanna know what I think about every day since that night? What you taste like.." and was quickly writing another explaining what had happened when he replied...

"Well that was an ice breaker." you read. Glancing back at the message Ella had sent him and instantly regretting ever meeting the woman.

"How do you plan on finding out?" Another reply... Oh god... You panicked and instantly shouted Ella who was more than happy to help. You'd never sent dirty texts before, and you didn't want to ruin this chance again. Her eyes glistened with excitement - her and her boyfriend regularly did this so she knew exactly what to say. You couldn't help but feel slightly giddy at this whole experience yourself.

"I'm going to tie you to the chair so you can't touch me."

"You have my attention."

"Your cock looks delicious... Hard and already leaking Mr Murphy... Are you hard now?"

"Maybe."

"My tongue stroking up your shaft... Over the slit at the tip, dipping inside gently..."

"Now I'm hard..." You bit your lip and Ella smirked. She winked and left you to it, you had actually written everything by yourself, turns out you didn't need as much help as you thought.

"I'll take the tip into my mouth... A gently suck, before taking you deep down my throat... Can you feel it?"

"Jesus... What are you doing to me, I'm hard as fucking stone here."

"Show me..."

A photo pinged through and your core clenched at the sight of his hard length - his left hand gripped the base.

"Are you wet? I showed you, now you show me." He asked. You were. Walking into your bedroom, you locked the door behind you. Laying on the bed, you pulled your jeans down to your thighs, leaving your lace underwear on and sliding your hand inside. Taking a quick photo of your hand under the lace, you sent it.

"Fuck... I wanna put my fingers inside you so fucking bad... Where are you?"

"I'm at home.. thinking of your cock buried deep in my throat.."

"Are you alone?"

"Ella's in the next room."

"Call a cab. I'll send my address. Come to me and find out what I taste like."

"I'm not getting a taxi to Dublin!"

"I'm not in Dublin - I'm in London. Call a cab now and get here before my hand does the job your dirty little mouth should be doing."

You didn't hesitate this time. Quickly changing into your favourite summer dress. The address came through and you called a taxi, making a mental note to buy Ella a bottle of wine later.

************************************************************

He had text to say the front door was open and to come straight in. You took a deep breath, pushing the door open and walking inside.

"Upstairs, first door on the right," you heard him shout.

Standing in the doorway, he was sat on the edge of the bed. He approached you slowly, taking your hands and leading you to sit next to him.

"Cill... I have to confess I didn't send that first text, Ella stole my phone..."

"Doesn't matter. You're here now. But I don't want to rush this, I've waited too long for you to come back to me and I can't lose you again."

"You won't lose me again.. I'm so sorry I didn't believe you..." He silenced you with his lips on yours, the kiss slow and passionate, his hands on the back of your neck and your arms snaking under his, around his chest.

"No more talking, we have plenty of time for that later..." You whispered, as he groaned, feeling your hand cup his growing erection under his trousers.

"You've no idea how hard it was not to make myself cum before you got here... That photo you sent me nearly killed me..." You were unbuckling his belt at lightening speed, his trousers and underwear dropping to the floor as you pushed him to sit on his bed. Dropping to your knees you smiled up at him, taking his cock in your hand and stroking it gently. The way his head lolled back and the soft moans from him made your core throb, you could feel how wet you were.

Without warning, you took him in your mouth, relaxing your throat to take him as far down as you could, his hips jerking slightly as your lips nearly made contact with the base of his shaft. His hand tangled into your hair as your mouth pumped against him, drawing fast breaths from above you and a tighter hair grip on your head.

"Fuck... You're gonna find out how I taste really soon if you carry on like that...."

You groaned into him, sending shockwaves through him as he gripped you tighter. You could feel his balls harden under your fingers as you rolled them in your hand, your mouth bringing his orgasm closer and closer.

"Baby... Fuck I'm gonna cum.... Oh god that's it...." A deep groan from above you, his stomach clenched as his warm cum flowed into your mouth. You pulled your mouth off him, allowing him to watch his seed spurt into your open mouth, rolling it around your tongue before swallowing it down.

"You taste good..." You knelt back up and pulled his face towards you, kissing him passionately so he could taste himself. You could feel him smirking under your lips before he pulled away, standing you in front of him.

"I'd have taken your word for it you know," he chuckled, swiftly lifting your short summer dress up and pulling your panties down in one solid movement. He lifted your foot to rest on his thigh, and his head disappeared under your dress, his mouth quickly making contact with your core. Your knees nearly buckled from the sudden impact, as you gripped onto his shoulder and the headboard for support.

"Oh my god that feels good... Oh yes...." Your hips were grinding against his tongue, the hand on his shoulder moving to the back of his head holding him in place. He suddenly pulled away, before laying back on the bed, head on the pillow and beckoning you over to him. You shook your head.

"I'll suffocate you -"

"Shut up and sit on my face..." He ordered, and you bit your lip in anticipation. Hovering over his face, he pulled your hips down and continued his assault, the new angle allowing him to fully explore you. Your hands gripped the headboard as your back arched. The dress was swiftly removed, along with your bra. His strong hands held your hips in place, his tongue finding your clit with precision as he lapped against it, driving you into a near frenzy.

You tried to contain your cries but it was useless - his name fell from your lips, short breathy pants as your orgasm grew close. He moved one of his hands underneath you, slowly inserting two fingers deep inside your soaked pussy, curling them up to find that sweet spot only he had ever been able to.

"Don't stop... Please don't stop..." He had no intention - the speed in which his mouth and fingers fucked you only got quicker and harder as you came hard against his face, your juices flowing onto his chin as he lapped them up hungrily, feeding from you as you came. Lifting your hips and moving down his body, he held you as you rested against his chest, slowly stroking his fingers up and down your spine. You quickly realised your frame may have been too much for him and tried to move but he held you in place, kissing the top of your head gently.

"Don't move... I've waited a year to feel your body close to mine, just let me hold you... Just for a little while longer..." He said softly, and you relaxed into his embrace as your breathing returned to normal. You could feel his heartbeat, pounding through his chest. You were certain he could feel yours too, pounding just as hard, and it had nothing to do with what he'd just done - it just all felt too right. Too perfect.

You felt his erection pressing into your stomach - it had been there since you first lay down but he wasn't in any rush to do anything about it yet. Content just to have you as close as possible. After a few more minutes, he rolled you onto your back, his lips on yours, gently probing your mouth with his tongue and running his hand down your body. You opened your legs and felt him slip inside you, before freezing.

"It's okay - I'm still on birth control..." You smiled, as he began to move slowly. His lips on your neck and collar bone, his hands lifting your legs up over his waist. You wrapped them around him as he thrust gently. Neither of you wanted to rush this moment, the feeling of being connected again.

"I've missed you.. you still feel so good..." He whispered in your ear.

Your nails scraped along his shoulder blades and over his chest as he lifted himself off you slightly, his hips starting to pick up the pace a little.

"Love having you back inside me... Fuck, you fill me up so good Cillian..."

He brought your fingers down to your clit.

"Need you to cum, I can't control myself around you..." You rubbed circles over your swollen clit as he moved quicker. Your second orgasm was already building, your fingers only increasing its intensity.

"You gonna fill me up? Cum so deep in me I can taste it again..." He groaned, his hips pistoning into you now as your words spurred him on, edging him closer.

"Like when I talk dirty to you while you're fucking me? Want me to make a mess over that pretty little cock of yours? My fingers feel so good on my clit.. ah..." His hand was resting against your cheek, your turned your face and took his thumb into your mouth, replicating your earlier actions on his cock as he groaned watching you.

"Oh god... Fuck I'm coming.. baby..." His eyes scrunched closed as he emptied into you, the force of it and the sounds he made sending you over the edge with him. Your mixed juices pooling underneath you.

"Jesus y/n..." You chuckled as he buried his head into your neck, his back rising and falling quickly as he came back down from his high. He gently pulled out of you, kneeling between your legs and running his hands softly over your thighs and groin making you shudder beneath him.

"You're beautiful... And I shouldn't have let you go without a fight y/n."

"I shouldn't have ghosted you.. I'm sorry.. Orla told me the shit Neve put you though."

"When did you see Orla?" You told him about the lunch you'd had with her last week and he laughed.

"She's a sneaky little shit. But I'm glad she did. Now come shower with me, I'm taking you out."

"Where are we going?"

"I don't care where we go as long as we're together."

[myelocin]

Cradle | Sakusa Kiyoomi, Iwaizumi Hajime

Synopsis: First is love; in the forms over the years you come to know. Then second is grief and loss; and how the struggle that comes with it defines and reshapes you. And finally third is acceptance, where you realize that the awakening to love and life’s questions have always just been in the palm of your hand.

This story is for those who shielded themselves from love before it could even hit them. 

Characters/Pairings: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader x Iwaizumi Hajime | Seijoh 3rd years (friendship)

Genre/Tags/Warnings: Slice of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, Seijoh4!Friendship, Cellist!Sakusa, Musician!Reader, Hajime lmao, Mutual Pining, Love Triangle, Happy Ending!!, Character death, mentions of spiraling

WC: 17.5k

a/n: a month long wip! this one is all for you, mom. i broke my heart writing down these memories, but i hope you read this on the other side. + big thank you to @introvertedfangirlpower for the cello facts! really helped me :)

playlist: Message to Myself - Roo Panes

ko-fi | commissions

For you, love began in the unknown.

You say unknown because you don’t remember much of your childhood other than the flashes of residual warmth that came with the memory of your mother. For as long as you can remember, she always felt like that: warm and familiar—like home.

Her presence like the warmth that stays on your coffee mug long after you’ve consumed your drink. Warmth like sitting in front of a fireplace as you watch the last bits of firewood extinguish in the flames.

And your fondest memory perhaps—warm like the hands that cup your face and kiss your forehead every morning before you left for school.

The early years in your life meant days spent in planted gardens outside of a kitchen window where the pink and yellow flowers bloom in the spring, and jumping in the fallen leaves raked in a pile centered in the backyard in the late autumn.

Then in the winters, when it became too cold to lay in blankets in the backyard stargazing for constellations—you’d spend the Christmas nights listening to bedtime stories about her time traveling the world you have yet to explore. “You’ll fall in love with seeing what’s out there,” you recall her saying as she tucks you in bed with the green blanket she knitted for you when you were a baby.

Though you suppose even if you loved the winter months with her the best—you could never go wrong with sipping the iced tea she’d leave for you on the porch in the afternoons you spent outside in the summers. The iced tea she made was always the best: never too sweet, and never too bland either.

And for the most part of your childhood, your father was absent. You didn’t really care; his absent never lingered. So even when the bratty kid from the classroom next to yours would brag about the brand new jacket her papa bought her from a trip overseas—you didn’t care. The jacket you wore was still the same one from last year, and the scarf wrapped around you was the one she knitted two winters ago, but the way she wrapped you up and kissed your nose made the taunting escape your mind.

Your mother would tell you stories about the times when you were a baby and of how she’d tuck you in nice and snug in your blanket whenever she felt the room was too cold and then fan you out when the temperature rose. Apparently, when you were a baby you never cried too much so she was left to guess whether you felt comfortable enough with the room’s temperature or not. She always finished the story by saying you smiled at her either way so she supposes she guessed right every time.

You don’t question it because she guesses right every time.

During father daughter dances that were annually held in your school, your mother always made sure to take the day off of work early so the two of you would have dinner some place nice instead. Her jokes were better than the ones your dad halfheartedly chucked your way when he did come to visit anyway, so you didn’t mind.

Your father ringing you up three hours before the dance with the last minute classic excuse of “sudden meeting today, I’m sorry.” didn’t bother you as much as you think it should have when your mom was right next to you ready to tell you another story from her younger days.

Her “younger days” as she liked to call it was always a favorite topic of hers that she always returned to from time to time. At eight years old, it felt like there was so much of the world still to explore and despite her telling you to live your childhood to the fullest, you didn’t ask what it meant and requested to hear an encore of the story she just finished telling.

She’d smile and you’d hear her tell you that no, and that you should have listened, but you know during the “father daughter” dinners shared between the two of you, she was extra soft and that it would take nothing more than pleading eyes and one more “please” before she’d relent and tell the story again.

She was always enough; every second with her felt just right—and if there’s something you never regret during your childhood, it’s those times where you’d ignore the teasing of having “no dad to dance with” from your childhood bullies because you were more than content with the superwoman who raised you anyway.

-

If there was someone in your childhood other than your mom who never hesitated to hold your hands—it was the boy who lived right down the street: Iwaizumi Hajime.

“He looks a little scruffy,” your mom used to tell you and you’d shrug at her words because to ten year old you, she did have a point. Boys were icky.

His family didn’t move in your street until you turned ten years old, but according to the Oikawa family who lived next door—the Iwaizumi family had already been one of their long term friends. Tooru, the pretty boy who was your next door neighbor and often brought you the Christmas cookies you’ve come to love every December didn’t hesitate to knock on your door and ask your mom for permission to bring you out and play.

Tooru was okay, you thought; he had nice hair and a pretty smile even though he wore alien t-shirts every chance he could get. But, he was always kind enough to remember that you preferred almonds in your cookies instead of the cashews the recipe called for. So when your mother looked at you for your answer, you nodded shyly before running to your room to grab the jacket and scarf she reminded you to wear. The chill from autumn’s air has been settling in the region lately, so you let her wrap the scarf around you tightly before you left.

She did the same for both Tooru and his mystery friend, and you could only nod proudly when Tooru introduced his friend to your mother with, “This is (l/n)-san, she’s the nicest auntie here!”

You don’t notice the boy who walks quietly beside Tooru until the three of you reach the park. When you do finally notice him, you subconsciously find yourself moving a little closer to Tooru, your puffy cheeks hidden in the layers your scarf buried you in.

“Oh!” Tooru suddenly exclaims like he just had an epiphany.

“(Y/n),” he says as he turns to you and grabs the sleeve of your jacket, “—this is Iwa-chan. My bestest friend!”

Iwa-chan, the boy introduced to you peeks at you from Tooru’s left side and puffs his cheeks, “My name is Iwaizumi Hajime, nice to meet you.”

“Hello, I’m (y/n),” you reply and tentatively hold your hand out as an offer for him to shake, “nice to meet you Iwaizumi-san.”

His cheeks turn red at your words and you fight the urge to laugh at how silly it looks with his pout when he says, “You can call me Hajime. Nice to meet you too.”

Beside you, Tooru must have thought that his friend was taking too long to respond because he sighs loudly and grabs Hajime’s hand and clasps it on yours. “Iwa-chan, you’re supposed to shake her hand! Not stare.”

The red tinting his cheeks turn into a couple shades darker as he shakes your hand and turns his head to the side after muttering something along the lines of, “Baka-kawa.”

You smile at him when he faces you, and then smile even wider when the blush on his cheeks turn even redder. Maybe it’s just the cold air, you think, but none the less it suited him.

His hair was a little scruffy and he liked to wear Godzilla t-shirts under his jackets, but his cheeks blushed a pretty shade of red when you smiled at him so when your mom asks how your day with Tooru and the new neighbor went, you smile at her and say, “Mama I made a new friend!”

Hajime seemed nice, you suppose.

-

And you’re right because Hajime was always kind; he smiled in a way that had you smiling along with him in mere seconds. Though he was a little rougher with Tooru, Hajime always made it his mission to make sure he held your hand—if you needed it—when you needed to jump down a big step; the ever present blush on his cheeks when you’d beam at him stayed regardless of whatever season so you suppose you can’t blame it on the cold air anymore.

During your summer breaks, the three of you would spend the afternoons in your mother’s backyard sipping iced tea and catching cicadas. Tooru, along with you, would whine about how gross bugs were but you’d sooner relent than him when a pout began to form on Hajime’s face.

“You don’t have to,” Hajime says and takes a seat next to you on the swing next to the rosebushes. Tooru, from a far would yell triumphantly before tossing the volleyball he’d brought with him from home again. You, on the other hand could never have it in you to see Hajime upset so you’d pick up one of the three nets he’d brought with him and nod towards the garden.

“It’s okay!” you say and offer him a sweet smile when he’d look up, “as long as you keep the worms away from me then it’s okay!”

“I’ll keep them away,” he replies suddenly looking excited. Hajime jumps from the swings to grab another net and tugs at your hand to run towards the garden; he chooses to ignore the look on Tooru’s face when the latter shoots him a knowing smirk.

Bugs were never your thing and there was also never a day where you thought you’d be out in the garden running hand in hand with a boy trying to catch cicadas on a summer afternoon—when you’d much prefer to be sitting in a picnic blanket with the family dog who always nudged your hand for belly rubs. But then again, when you see Hajime, the kind boy with the infectious smile who always held your hand when you crossed the street or jumped from big steps, beam at you with his laughs ringing in the air—you conclude that it can’t be so bad after all.

When the sun would set and the three of you would let go of all the cicadas you caught, your mom would sit the three of you down for dinner and talk about your days.

“Ah, youth,” your mother would comment and you’d nod along, smiling because if this is what she meant by the beauty of youth—then you don’t ever want to let this go. If youth meant summer afternoons spent catching cicadas, festivals in the autumn, hot cocoas in winter, and picnics in the spring with Hajime and Tooru then you decided you really don’t want to let it go.

You think that especially when you look at the table across you as you smile at Tooru shoveling his dinner down and smiling at your mom because she was the bestest cook ever and laugh when Hajime’s always the one offering to pass the salt or the dish your mother asked for.

“Haji is really smart, mama,” you say looking up at the woman seated next to you and Tooru would whole heartedly agree then mutter something about “Iwa-chan” being really good at arm wrestling. Hajime would flush with the familiar shade of red you’ve grown accustomed to at Tooru’s comment but tell your mother a polite thank you when she’d clap her hands together and agree with Tooru’s compliment.

That night when your mother tucked you in for the night and moved to turn off the lights in the bedroom, she tells you that Hajime and Tooru are nice boys and that she’s glad you befriended the both of them.

You tell her goodnight and smile into your covers, feeling warm at the thought of your mother’s words, Tooru’s laughter, and Hajime’s kind smile.

-

High school was a strange time for the three of you.

Strange, in the sense that even though the three of you maintained the closeness of the friendship you’ve shared since childhood—certain things factored in the evident shift in some relationships.

Tooru was one example.

You would give up an arm for him in a heartbeat if it meant it would save his life, but at the same time, there are some moments where you wouldn’t hesitate to rip off his arm just to get him to shut up.

He’s always been perceptive, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he came to your house one day, plopped himself on the beanbag he claimed to be “his spot” at the corner of your desk, look you dead in the eye, and declare, “You have the hots for Iwa-chan don’t you?”

Internally, you wince at the statement but outwardly maintain the air of nonchalance you’ve mastered over the years. Tapping your pen on Tooru’s forehead, you click your tongue, “If you don’t finish your essay by today, I’m not gonna edit it for you.”

“You’re changing the topic, (y/n),” Tooru quips and if the conversation was about something different, you’d smile at the sing-song tone he was using.

“Changing what?” You ask.

“(Y/n),” Tooru replies, dragging out the last syllable of your name, “—you’re so obvious, even Makki and Mattsun could tell.”

“Could tell what?” comes Hajime’s voice from the doorway.

You let out a sigh because in a way you’re thankful for Hajime’s impeccable timing in entering your room. You turn your head and glance at him from your desk, offering him a lazy wave as a greeting.

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru exclaims and scrambles on the beanbag to sit up properly. “How much have you heard?”

“Were you talking about something important?” Hajime asks with a flat tone as he sits on your bed and pulls out his laptop.

“Your mom asked me and Oikawa to stay for dinner tonight, by the way. That cool with you?” he asks.

You look at him, the expression on your face quizzical, “Haji, you guys always stay for dinner. Mama and I love having you two around.”

From your peripheral vision, you could see Tooru look between you and Hajime back and forth and for once you’re glad he chose to stay silent.

But then when a familiar tinge of red falls on Hajime’s cheeks and you smile fondly at him, Tooru suddenly hollers, “(Y/n), that’s what I mean. You totally have the hots for Iwa-chan!”

Hajime’s eyes widen as you slap a hand over your face.

Today was one of the days where you decide you want to rip Tooru’s arm off.

-

Dinner later that night was, to put it bluntly, awkward.

You figured your mom must have already read the atmosphere by now but as of the moment all you could really do was shoot glares towards Tooru from across the table. Usually, the seating arrangement would be like this: you sat next to your mom, Tooru right across you, and Hajime diagonal from you.

Tonight, Tooru decided that it was time to “switch things up” and traded seats with Hajime.

“Ahh, this feels nice,” he says as he sits in the chair inches away from the chair where he sat for years.

“Boys,” your mother begins, “I heard you both got into the volleyball team.”

Tooru beams at her through a mouthful of pasta. “Yeth!” he chimes and Hajime elbows him on the side reminding him to eat properly before responding. You, along with your mother give a soft laugh at their interaction.

“How are you three liking high school so far? I expect the two of you to get rid of any boys who have bad intentions towards (y/n),” your mother says as she sips on her wine. Internally, you groan, because this was a conversation you would much prefer to not have. Especially in front of Tooru, you decide when he grins with an undertone of something you could only guess was anything but good. You shoot him a warning look; Tooru decides it’s a good day to ignore you.

Over the years, you made your appreciation known towards Hajime’s amazing timing. It was like he had a sixth sense when it came to either you, Tooru, or the both of you simultaneously. He had always managed to round the corner right as the passing university boys would spot you alone by the convenience store, catch Tooru before he did anything too drastic whenever he blamed himself a little too harshly for a loss from a particularly bad game, or like earlier that night—walk into a room interrupting a conversation you would rather avoid altogether.

This current situation was not one of those times.

Hajime took a bite. Your eyes were still locked on Tooru who did everything but look in your direction.

“I don’t think that’s a problem, (L/n)-san,” he said and leaned forward. Your mother next to you raised an eyebrow in question and muttered an, “oh?”

Hajime took another bite, still oblivious to the current conversation. You still looked at Tooru who smiled at you in a way that had you gripping the fork in your hand a little tighter.

“No scary boys around (y/n), at all! Isn’t that right, Iwa-chan?” Tooru exclaims and looks at his best friend next to him who was still engrossed in his plate of food. You hold your breath looking at Hajime as you wait for his response.

“Huh? Yeah. Anyway, this new recipe is really good (l/n)-san,” he finally says and nods towards your mother. Tooru clasps his hands together, smiling.

“Personally,” Tooru begins, “I think Iwa-chan and (y/n) would be the most perfect couple!”

You run your hands over your face, already feeling the heat crawling up your neck. Feeling your mother’s stare you let out a sigh and face her. “Mom-“

“Hajime! That’s great! I was wondering when the two of you would get together, it’s literally been years.”

You stare at her. Hajime stares at her; pasta sauce is smeared on the corner of his lips.

“I know, imagine being the third wheel this whole time!” Tooru comments.

-

“Hajime’s a nice boy,” your mother tells you as you join her in the living room after Tooru and Hajime returned home.

“We’re not, a thing, mom,” you say despite her laughing at your tone.

“I didn’t say you two were a thing.”

You open your mouth, but eventually close it when you come short of a response. She had a point.

“Mom,” you groan, “Haji is nice. Tooru is nice. Both of them are nice.”

“I know that, (y/n), you’re just being defensive now,” she laughs and you can’t find a retort so you huff in response.

When the room is dips into silence, you grab the familiar green blanket folded on the corner of the couch and take a seat next to her. She looks at you when you lean against her shoulder and drape the blanket over the two of you.

“(Y/n),” your mother says softly.

“Yeah?” you respond, looking up to catch her gaze—the kind where it’s steady and soft.

“Never lose yourself if you decide to give your heart to someone. I raised you well enough and no boy should ever make you feel like you’re taking two steps back,” you know she doesn’t say it to spite Hajime, but the message and advice in her words reach you anyway.

“Never in a million years.”

-

You know your mother means well because everything she’s done so far was because it was for your sake. Her credit of being a good mom was well deserved: a full time nurse and a full time mother wasn’t an easy feat but she did it—and not a day goes by where you felt like you had to fight for her time.

And because of that, you knew in your heart that Hajime knew the both of you enough to understand the dynamic you had with her; for that, you were always thankful.

True to Tooru’s words, it only took the both of you six more months of back and forth bickering in your room before you eventually built up enough courage to stand in front of Hajime with your confession written neatly in jet black ink on paper tucked inside the pink envelope Tooru had demanded you to use.

He was quiet, and staring at you long enough for your cheeks to turn as pink as the envelope you were holding that it had you beginning to wrack your brain for excuses to turn and walk in the opposite direction. Only, when you looked up, cheeks flushed and the “Sorry I think I have to be home early to put my fish to sleep,” at the tip of your tongue—you stop because Hajime’s looking at anywhere but you and because his entire face is red.

You still have the envelope awkwardly stretched out towards him so when you move in attempt to retract it, his hands are suddenly clasped over your wrists and he’s looking at you, red face and all, saying, “W-wait—“

The both of you must have been quite the spectacle for the way you’re staring at each other, red faced, and waiting for the other to begin speaking because you could definitely make out Takahiro and Issei’s snorting from some feet away.

“—shit,” Hajime continues and the way he’s still staying silent and going back to avoiding your gaze has you tugging your wrists out of his hold and sheepishly telling him, “Sorry, this is a little awkward isn’t it?”

You’re standing in front of Hajime with your hands holding the letter behind your back and an awkward smile on your face.

“(Y/n), this is really weird—“ he begins and you’re shaking your head automatically at his attempt to soften the blow by waving your arms—and the letter—in front of him saying, “Haji! No! It’s okay you don’t have to say anything, this was a really bad idea—“

“No, I mean—“ he cuts you off then pauses as he’s sifting through the contents of his bag and pulling out a slightly crumpled envelope, the color a disturbingly identical to your own.

You look at Hajime. Hajime looks at you, at his envelope, then towards yours that paused with your hand midair. Issei and Takahiro’s laughter can be heard even louder from the background when Hajime runs his hands over his face and exclaims,

“Oikawa you son of a bitch.”

-

Two years and some months ago, Oikawa Tooru—the self-proclaimed “love guru” between you and Hajime had declared to have pulled off his “greatest plan.”

Apparently, the original plan called for only you to confess to Hajime via the classic love letter—but Issei and Takahiro had thought that the shits and giggles were worth to have both of you confess to each other at the same time instead.

Tooru always retells the story in the fashion where he leaves out Issei and Hiro’s names out of the credits. On the contrary, you and Hajime don’t have in in you to react much.

In the beginning, Hajime the friend held your hand through many of your highs and lows.

From age ten, he’d always make sure to hold your hand when you’re jumping from steps a little too far for your liking. At twelve, he’s holding your hand as he leads you away from the worms that found its way near the picnic blanket. At fifteen, when the two of you accidentally confessed to each other thanks to your friends’ schemes, he held your hand as he pulled you in the direction opposite of Tooru yelling, “Iwa-chan, don’t forget I’m the best wingman!”

Hajime, the boyfriend, had continued to hold your hand as well as share a multitude of your first throughout the years.

Your first date where he’d always let you walk on the correct side of the sidewalk, and make sure to squeeze your hand whenever the two of you would pass by a group of boys who let their stare linger. Your first kiss—a quick peck after a game where he’d rushed to you, lifting you up and planting a kiss on your lips before either of you could even process what was happening.

A reassuring hand on your back in the train ride during rush hour, kisses on your knuckles when he thought no one was around in quiet libraries, and your favorite: the feel of his thumbs tracing idle circles on the back of your hand when you’re watching him review the game you recorded earlier.

You were each other’s first “I love you,” when you’re seventeen, which was said in the hours between the day and night on your walk home down a quiet street you’ve skipped, ran, and biked across countless of times. You heard it break the silence before you said it with your own lips, because the way Hajime said it was like he was just talking about the weather that day.

When the two of you stop in front of your house and Hajime’s facing you, he’s smiling in the way that has you blushing instead of him this time and he’s looping your scarf even snugger around your neck after muttering some comment about how cold it was that day.

“Haji, did you just tell me you love me?” you ask him when he’s zipped up your jacket and you’re peeking at him under the various layers of the scarf he secured around you.

“Yeah, of course, I love you.”

“This is the first time you’re telling me that,” you say with an almost bashful expression and your eyes are cast down so you don’t end up seeing Hajime’s eyes widen at the realization dawning on him.

“(Y/n), shit—“

“I love you too, Haji,” you cut him off and even if the expression in his face is still a little apologetic at the lack of climax of your first exchange of I love yous, he’s holding your hands and pulling you flush against him in an embrace, his proclamation of more “I love yous” fluttering against your ear in warm breaths.

You think about it sometime later when you’re clearing up the plates on the table from dinner and you ask your mom, “how do you know when it’s right to tell someone I love you?” and she looks at you with an expression that says she knows exactly what you’re talking about but humors your attempt at nonchalance as she replies with, “It just slips out as if you’re talking about the weather.”

And the way she says it has the second thoughts just automatically leaving your head. You tell her “I love you,” in the mornings before she leaves for work and you don’t really think about it—not because it’s a passing comment, but because you just simply love her.

The feeling’s there because what you feel in the moment is as genuine as it can get, so when you think about Hajime from seven years ago who blushed red when you shook his hand and the Hajime seven hours ago who told you he loved you like he was talking about the weather—everything dawns on you in the way that feels right. No second thoughts, deep analysis, or euphoric moment.

>> to hajibug:

>> 23:50: i love you

-

In college you decided to pursue music as a career choice. Music was one of the many things you and your mother had bonded over but watching you play in first chair always gave you the best view of her beaming from the audience.

Whenever somebody asked you why you decided to pursue a career in the field as vague and competitive as music—for a long time you fumbled with your words as you struggled to piece together a coherent enough sentence that would make it seem like you were chasing something for a “deeper” reason. Though, the truth is—you just happen to enjoy it.

The way the shoulder rest snapped perfectly in place with the violin, the weight of the bow in your hand, the smell of rosin during practice, the tuning before the concert started before hearing the eventual mess mold together into one harmony—you loved every second of it.

On the final concert of your first year in college, a week before Hajime’s move to California you stood in the orchestra room reading a text from your mother saying that she couldn’t make it this time because of a doctor’s appointment running later than usual.

You still sat in the first chair of the first violins section and even though you would have loved nothing more than to see her smile at you from the crowd—it was in the coda of the final song where  your eye finally catches Hajime watching you from her seat. When the violins put their instruments down in the measures of rests, you glance over to look at Hajime while your toe continued to tap the counts remaining until you’d play again.

You bite back a smile because he looked a little uncomfortable from the high collar of the suit he put on. Tooru’s probably the mastermind, your thoughts chime in as you smile and tuck the violin back in between your chin and shoulder, your rosin covered bow hovering over the E string.

And when the final count of the rests came and went, you could only smile as you see Hajime physically hold his breath as the violins amplified the crescendo of the climax.

-

It was later that night when you finally made it home that you realize that perhaps your favorite part of the song was when you felt the emphasis of the dynamics in the pieces you played.

The moment of absolute silence as the conductor draws everyone’s attention to the tip of the baton.

“(Y/n),” your mother starts and your eyes lock on the slight tremble in her hands.

The seemingly collective sharp breath everyone takes when the tip of the baton begins to signal the final counts until the start. Your fingers pressed on the first note as your bow hovers over the string.

“What’s wrong?” you ask but you let your fingers only ghost on her hands when she holds her silence, refusing to meet your eyes.

Sometimes it begins with a quiet note—and you smile at those because it sounds like a whisper despite it ringing in the auditorium.

“I’m sick,” she says and what she says doesn’t register in your head.

Other times, the first note comes in forte and leaves everyone in a resonating silence while the following notes interlace and begin to tell the story.

“I have cancer, (y/n),” she tells you again, louder this time and her sobs echo so loud in the silence of the house that it suddenly makes you want to throw your hands over your ears.

The conductor is waving the baton; you’re closing your eyes as you mold yourself with the music and focus on nothing but your fingers flying across the fingerboard and making sure the timing of your bow matches the tap of the rhythm set.

“Mom, you’ll be fine right?” comes your assurance in question and she’s not answering because she’s crying harder.

First position to third, then fourth, then something else you don’t quite remember as the pressure from your bow presses harder and harder on the strings to climb with the crescendo the orchestra is rising to.

She looks at you, glassy eyes and trembling lips, then holds your face in between warm hands as she presses her forehead against yours.

Then as the baton drops and the crescendo overflows—the air around the room instantly changes. The shoulders relax and the movement of the bow shift from staccato to legato as the music continues to flow.

“I’m scared to leave you alone,” she finally admits and you finally break down and cry with her because you realize you have no one but each other.

You cry because she’s crying at the thought of leaving you alone when she never cried at all the times your father chose another family over her.

And as the music decrescendos into the whispers of pianissimo, you close your eyes as the gentle sway eventually lulls to a stop.

It’s half past ten and you’re still in your formal wear, but your mom’s fast asleep on the couch. The air from the AC brings you to a light shiver so you shuffle closer and pull the blankets tighter around her frame.

The last note drops and resonates in an almost infinite echo. Your eyes snap back open you feel yourself exhale.

For a moment the auditorium is in silence.

You sit on the floor next to her and listen to the sounds of steady breathing. You could pretend it was just another movie night where she fell asleep on the couch, but the telltale tracks of tears are on her cheeks and you hear her sniffling from time to time so you sigh instead.

Then, the audience erupts in an applause.

In your room, you put your palm over your mouth and begin to cry again.

-

“I love you so much,” is what Hajime said two years down the road when he decided to move to California to finish his studies.

First, he’d made a stop at your home and sat with your mother over breakfast as she wished him well on his new adventure. By the time he was at the door, it was the first time you saw Hajime cry for and with her when she wraps him in a scarf she knitted just for him. You watch softly, as he wraps her in a hug and parts with a promise to always take care of you despite the distance and wishes for her healing.

You’re standing at the border of the gate only Hajime can cross where he’s wrapped you in a hug with his chin resting on your head.

“I love you so much,” he says and you nod your head against his chest. He’s saying it as naturally as he always has and your reply is as immediate and natural when you say, “I love you too, Haji. So much.”

“(Y/n),” he starts when he pulls away from you and looks you in the eye; he’s suddenly serious and you’re afraid.

“If you ever feel like you don’t want to keep doing this, then we can take a break.”

Your brows pinch together as you reply, “Why would I want to break up with you?”

“I’m not saying we will, I just don’t want you to shoulder too much because I know how much you’re hurting right now,” Hajime explains, and his eyes are as genuine as the tone of his voice.

“Haji—“

“I believe in you, though, just—“ he pauses and his eyes soften before he continues, “take things one day at a time and remember that I’m here loving you every day, okay?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he finishes and you only nod at his words because the fact that you’re going to miss him really begins to hit you. Hajime’s looking at you in the tender way where you know he knows you’re about to cry because he pulls you in another embrace before kissing the top of your head as he murmurs his parting I love you in the quiet tone only you can hear.

When Hajime crosses the gate and turns the corner, you can’t help but bite your lip to keep from crying. Only a couple more years. You could take it.

-

It’s in the next eight months where you realize that while Iwaizumi Hajime shared your first love—he was also your first heartbreak.

They always said that long distance was difficult and the fact that you and Hajime were even trying was commendable enough. But that was the problem—commendable sounded like you were in the relationship for the sake of a prize. Like you were suffering through the now for a prize. Like the good part was only a one-time thing reserved at the end.

It felt wrong, and looking back at it now—perhaps that’s where the downfall began.

As time passed, your mom’s illness worsened. Cancer was ugly and it let itself be known in as many ways as it could. Time and time again, you’d watch her hair fall in strands, then clumps, until she eventually decided to shave it off for good. She smiled at you and you don’t hear her tell you, “It’s okay,” over the buzz of the razor. You don’t think you have the heart to listen to the quiver of her voice that you know is present with her words, so you suppose the loud buzz worked out in the end.

What broke your heart the most was seeing her excitement when her hair grew back after a pause in her treatment—only for her to sit down and tell you that she’s “okay” when you’re shaving off sections of her hair again.

You didn’t let her see you cry because you wanted to be as strong as she was in this; because you knew the both of you broke down within enclosed walls away from each other. Though every time you were face to face—the front was always back up. And the front was flawless; like the edges of a chipped sword finally smoothened back into a blade. But at the same time, flawed; because like the sword—the sharpness always kills.

It was unconventional, but it worked. The momentary sigh of relief was still moments of relief at the end of the day.

Hajime, on the other hand thought differently though. The second you’d answer his call request on particularly off days, he’d tell you to cry. And you would; fat drops of tears rolling down almost as soon as he finished his sentence.

Then only a year of loving each other through a computer screen passed before you realized he became your pillar at the same time you began hardening.

“Never lose yourself in the pursuit of someone or something,” are the words from your mother you consciously make an effort to tell yourself everyday even as you sit in with your phone in hand waiting for the call Hajime promised you early this morning.

And you’re well aware you’ve developed an unhealthy habit as you’re lying in bed, fighting sleep with the time on the clock nearing 4am still waiting for Hajime’s call. It wasn’t the first time he missed a promised phone call—and you weren’t mad because you understand that he has as much of a schedule as you do and that time difference was a wedge the two of  you needed to work with.

But still, you think, then sigh when you put your arm over your eyes as the clock clicks to 04:07AM beside you, this fucking sucks.

You know Hajime will text you an apology when it’s seven am for you and late at night for him, but you put your phone’s ringer on silent to convince yourself that you’re fine and you’re not dependent on his presence at all. That you’re handling yourself just fine and that the anxiety you have every time your mother comes back home from a checkup is something you can deal with by yourself.  

You shut your eyes when the dull ache in your chest begins to grow sharper as your thoughts shift from school, to your mom’s illness, to Hajime, and to the fact that you want to cry at the heaviness of everything.

And the frustration is eating you alive because you hate feeling this helpless. Not when your mother taught you nothing but how to be strong your whole life. Not when all you should know is how to stand on your own two feet despite whatever the situation life throws at you.

So when the morning comes and you wake up to a plethora of Hajime’s missed calls and frantic texts asking if you’re okay—you text him an assurance that you’re fine and that he shouldn’t worry about it.

You face the day with everything you feel pushed to the back of your mind. You face the mirror and tell yourself that you’re fine.

-

Hanamaki’s a good friend, and a lot smarter than you give him credit for.

It didn’t fly past him when you left for phone on silent or chose to spend your break with him or Mattsun when you usually would utilize that time for Hajime. But at the same time, he noticed you spacing out in conversations a little more than usual, reject any plans they invited you in, and his least favorite—see you break down in the practice room when you thought no one was around.

Neither he nor Issei chose to tell Hajime or you about it; he could never understand what you were going through—but he understood that the way someone heals differs from person to person.

It took about a few more months of Hajime’s schedule piling up and your silent breakdowns for the both of you to finally snap and confront one another.

It started with Hajime telling you a round of an apology, “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll call you on time—I just,”

“—shit everything’s just crazy. I’m sorry, babe.”

Then you nod and absent mindedly twirl one strand of your hand as you force his apology in one ear and out the other. You were fine. You’re handling things well. You didn’t need Hajime as a support system, so you reply, “It’s fine. I got this.”

And you like to think it was going well, but he asks, “How’s your mom doing?” and your hands are suddenly gripping the edge of the table (where you know he can’t see) tight. You didn’t tell him that she cried from the results when she came home earlier and waved you off when you stood up to help her balance herself. That thirty minutes ago you could hear her yell at your father over the phone about something she didn’t tell you about and that at the moment, you’re thankful for the way your fingers were digging into your skin because it’s helping you re shift your focus into anything but what was going on.

Hajime’s not looking at you because he’s looking at the report he was typing on his laptop instead. So first, you hype yourself up by thinking about how you don’t need anyone to push you through things and that how you’re handling yourself and the situation was more than fine, then, you answer,

“She’s okay, too.”

You try to ignore how gritty it sounded; Hajime doesn’t seem to notice either.

You’re quiet after that and Hajime must have thought it was odd because he pauses his work to look at you and ask, “Are you okay?”

And he says it with such a gentle tone that you suddenly want to crumble and tell him about the heaviness that hasn’t left you since the day your mom began slipping. But a knock from Hajime’s door and a distant call of his name snaps you out of those thoughts. Hajime, on the other hand, ignores them and asks you the question again, which you wave off this time with a quick, “It’s okay you can call me when you’re done.”

He’s hesitant when he leaves and he shoots you a text seconds after his face leaves the screen but you don’t reply; you spend the rest of the night with your face pressed against the pillow while you will yourself to believe that you, alone, have everything under control.

And, really, you should have left it to end like that.

But you don’t; because when morning comes and you wake up feeling heavy, you’re left in a haze where everything feels muddled. And the feeling of screaming hits you so fast and so hard that the dam just breaks.

It’s seven am and you’re crying for reasons you can’t find a starting point to. The kind of cry where every heave hurts and makes you ball your fists because of an unsourced anger. It’s disorienting and frustrating because you’re not mad at specifically anything—but at the same time, everything feels like its swallowing you whole again. You wish you could blank out like the time she told you she was sick—even if it meant moving through your day hyper aware of your movements. But you can’t, because it’s one of those days where the heaviness just sits on your chest and forces you to face the fact that it hurts.

And you always say “it” because you don’t know where to begin. Because you never began; never sat down and looked at your reflection in the eye and asked yourself, “what was wrong?”

Because you’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

It’s still fine because when your phone is ringing, you answer with a fresh face and a smooth, hello.

Hajime greets you like usual, but then settles into a background that isn’t.

You don’t really care.

He asks you how you’ve slept, and you nod once as a reply. He’s chuckling and says something about you looking cute cuddled up in bed, still half asleep so you nod again to go along with his story. Underneath the sheets, you’re fisting the blankets as you count each breath you’ve inhaled and exhaled as Hajime begins to talk about his day.

Then someone, who you can’t recall you know, sits next to him with an arm casually draped over his shoulder and pushes her face near his as she waves a hello. Usually, you’re not much of the jealous type so something like that shouldn’t even be a red flag for you. Hajime was a friendly person all around, and time and time again he’s explained how different the American culture was from home.

Given that fact, on a normal situation it would have been fine. Understandable, even.

But before you could even begin smooth your thoughts back to rationality, you explode. Hajime’s facing away from you in a conversation where he can’t see, so you suppose that could have been a good thing.

Then, your anger comes out.

First, it trickles; you stay silent and opt to stare at him, seething when he finally begins a conversation. Hajime’s eyebrows shoot up just like that and he bids his friend a quick goodbye before rushing into an empty room.

Second, it pools. You tell him a series of things you don’t even think makes sense, but from the way his face morphs into a grimace—it wouldn’t take much to conclude that what you said was something ugly.

Third, you’re wading in waist deep. You’re sitting up and pointing at him, bringing up a photo you saw of him with his arms hung over someone’s shoulder. A classmate, you concluded last week; a lover, you accuse him of having in the moment.

Fourth, Hajime rushes to keep you from going in further. He doesn’t feed into your anger and instead tells you to take a deep breath before talking to him. And for a second, you relent and listen. He explains that she’s a classmate from his biology class and that you’re just overreacting over something that shouldn’t even be an issue.

Fifth, comes the struggle. Your anger flares at his words and everything you’ve felt and pushed underwater suddenly bobs to the surface. Hajime wasn’t at fault, and you know that, but he’s huffing in a way that tells you he’s inches past exhausted and it does nothing to quell your outburst.

“Maybe what you should do is listen to yourself and calm the fuck down,” is what he tells you as you flinch at his tone.

“Well, I’m sorry, for just wanting to talk to you Hajime,” is what you say as retaliation. Hajime’s hand that instantly flies up to soothe his temple doesn’t fly past you.

“We are talking, (y/n). Why are you trying to make me apologize for something I didn’t even do?”

“Why can’t you understand my point? This is exhausting, Hajime.”

“I told you from the beginning. If you didn’t want to keep doing this then we stop,” he retorts, anger steadily rising.

“You’re making it sound like you’re the one wanting to stop this,” you bite back.

“I don’t. But it’s like every time we talk nowadays it’s like you’re being too much, this doesn’t seem like you anymore,” Hajime finishes.

And as the silence settles, everything clicks. You’ve been too dependent, and he feels the same way. He’s right, this isn’t you at all. You shouldn’t need to cling to him to for crumbs of healing; because you’re more than fine.

Have been more than fine, really; so you blank and reply, “You’re right, sorry about that.”

He looks at you, confused, before the silence envelops the two of you again. You allow it to stay this time.

“Maybe we should take a break, (y/n). Just some time to cool off; I feel like we’re just too overloaded right now.”

“We should,” you reply, expression unfazed as you cut the call.

The sixth, is where you allow the anger to stay instead of recede. Your mother asks you how you’re feeling and you’re quick to answer that you’re okay.

Hajime doesn’t text you until an hour later, wanting to talk. You set your phone to silent.

“What made you decide to not get back together with dad?” you ask her when she’s quiet in front of you. Your mother looks at you for a while before she pieces the red eyes and silent phone together, then tells you, “I loved myself more.”

You nod, conflicted. Her eyes were as red as yours and you heard her weeping his name just the night before and she knows you’re aware. Your phone vibrates on the table again and you miss the way her eyes flicker to the device momentarily before focusing them back at you.

Both of you know, but neither of you ask.

“Never lose yourself, right?” you say quietly and she gives you a solid nod as she pours you a cup of coffee.

You never really liked coffee; then again, you never really liked the reality either.

But you take the mug and gulp in the bitterness anyway.

Then finally, the seventh is where you succumb under its waves. Hajime calls you later that night and you answer, expression honed into an almost natural state of indifference. He looks a little worse than you, but you ignore that.

“Is this it?” he asks and you nod curtly once, your fingernails already digging into your palms under the table.

“Are we going to hate each other?” Hajime asks you again and you sigh.

“I don’t have it in me to ever hate you, Haji,” you answer, truthfully and he gives you a halfhearted smile.

“I love you,” he says like he’s just talking about the weather, and stays on the line for a few seconds more before he eventually takes your silence as a response.

“I love you, too,” is what almost comes out of your mouth like second nature, but you bite your tongue anyway.  

He can’t hurt you first this way.

-

Sakusa Kiyoomi didn’t really root himself in your life until nine months after your break up with Hajime. Graduation came and went like the unfurling of a leaf, and before you knew it, you’re suddenly in the real world.

Before that, you only knew him as the first chair cellist who you always accidentally locked eyes with in every concert you managed to snag the first chair spot in the first violin’s section.

Bumping into him during morning practice first led to string quartets, then duets during concerts, shared practice rooms—until eventually, he asked you out on a date.

He inserted the question in the conversation so naturally, too. After putting away the music stands, then shoving (in contrast to him neatly arranging) the sheet music into your folder—you were halfway done with loosening your bow when he asked, “Do you wanna get dinner later?” out of the blue.

To others who may have listened in to the conversation, it sounded like a natural invitation between friends, and Kiyoomi must have realized that because he was quick to face you after zipping up the case of his cello, and add, “—I meant dinner with me.”

You were still holding your bow and staring at him stare at you, so he filled the silence with, “Like a date. I’m asking you out on a date, (y/n).”

The two of you never really initiated anything outside the relationship between music partners, and the occasional friendly outing—but it had always been with others. Looking at him, you admit Sakusa Kiyoomi was a man who mastered hygiene. Which was always a bonus in your book. But you think back to Hajime for a second, then click your tongue quietly because you realize you shouldn’t be thinking about him when someone else was asking you out.

But you sigh and still offer him a smile when you reply, “Sorry I gotta watch my mom tonight. She’s not feeling well.”

Kiyoomi nods, and his eyebrows shoot up like he remembered something. “I heard your mom was sick? I’m sorry if I’m prying.”

You nod sharply once before internally groaning then thinking about how to steer the conversation away from the oncoming “I’m sorrys”, “It must be so tough,” or any sympathetic comments of the like.

But Kiyoomi only nods in understanding, briefly turning back to loop his arms through the case, then looking back at you again saying, “Ah. Understandable. My grandmother had cancer and my mom made her this soup that helped with the aching; I can give you the recipe for it.”

Your eyes shoot up at his response and the rehearsed response of, “I have no choice but to be tough for her. It’s okay, though,” dies in your mouth so you close it again and only nod a yes.

Kiyoomi turns to open the door once you had your own violin set inside and stands by the opening of the door to let you out first. You smile; he was mostly reserved, but still a gentleman.

“(Y/n),” he begins when the two of you walk side by side in the quiet morning hallway. “I know you don’t want to hear the pity comments, but I just wanna put it out there that you’re doing well.”

Your steps halt with his when you reach the end of the hallway where the flooring splits into two different directions but you face him, the thrumming of your heart feeling making you a little more choked up than you expected and tell him an honest thank you.

He lifts his right hand as a goodbye while he shoves the other in his pocket after he settles his mask in place, then turns to walk on the opposite direction.

“Sakusa-san!” you call out and he stops a few meters in front of you to turn back in your direction again.

“Dinner!” you call out again, “this weekend!”

You know your cheeks are a little more red than you would have liked and you’re more than aware of how white your knuckles must be from grasping the straps of your case, but you ignore that and add anyway, “As a date.”

The mask covering the lower half of his face obscures the expression he has but you notice the miniscule crinkle on the corner of his eyes when he laughs and replies, “Can you say that a little louder? I can’t hear.”

You huff and action to turn around because the heat on your face was getting a little too uncomfortable, but you hear him say, “It’s a date!” so you nod awkwardly in confirmation before turning your back and walking the opposite way.

You can imagine the look he has on his face and just how much amusement he’s gotten from the interaction but before you walk too far you hear, “Just call me Kiyoomi,” from him behind you.

You smile and feel as if you’re flipping into the first page of a new chapter.

-

In contrast to the push and pull energy you felt with Hajime, after almost being in a relationship with Kiyoomi for a year, things felt easy.

Communication between the two of you didn’t feel like unraveling codes; plus, being in the same department also meant your schedules mostly linked up. Though, personally, your favorite part was that he was never too pushy with the things you wanted to deal with alone.

He knew not to pry when you walked in the practice hall with bags under your eyes holding a cup of coffee you swore to heaven and back you detested drinking; you always saw a parcel of your comfort snack with a note laid beside your violin case in the locker room, though.

And when he ate dinner at your house, he also kept his comments to himself and never let his eyes wander to the amount of pills you had to help your mother count out when the little alarm in your phone rang. Then again, you never needed to question his intentions when he showed up the next day with a thermos filled with the soup your mom said she enjoyed once as a passing comment.

He’s always been one to remember the smaller details.

Along with preferring to stay in his personal space, Kiyoomi wasn’t one to smile too bashfully, but you can’t help but notice that when she laid her hands on his as a thank you and asked him to take care of you—the smile that graced his face looked warm.

She said that Kiyoomi seemed like a nice boy, and you agreed instantly—because he is.

He never pushed past the boundary you kept around yourself despite entering into a new relationship. There was a mutual air of respect—and neither of you expressed the desire to breech it.

Being with Kiyoomi felt as natural and in order to the flow as it does when your hands move to automatically loosen your bow when it came to packing up, or beginning with the A string when the conductor motioned for you to begin tuning.

You liked to think you fit quite well together. Like the duet that an audience listens to and clap at as if they were the whole orchestra. Like the blend of the high and low notes written on a score that collides in perfect harmony.

And it feels like it too.

Every time you’re seated across each other on the stage and you’re staring straight at one another to climb with the crescendo then descend into silence—you know that your heart, along with his, are beating in the same rhythm, with the same frequency. You’ve always found that break from the real world when you picked up an instrument and you’re glad that Kiyoomi’s the one you’re entering into that dimension with.

The ten minutes on stage feels timeless. The rush from the music still resonates in an infinite echo—your fingers twitching, craving, to fly across the notes in an encore. You’re smiling because when you stare at him—he’s smiling too. Unabashed and sparkling where you have no doubt in your mind that even without the stage lights he’d gleam the same.

And even as the crowd’s still cheering as you stand hand in hand and bow next to each other, you don’t hear anything. When reality begins to trickle into your senses and the rush of intoxication wears off, you let your smile mellow into a soft curve. You face the front row and look at the seat that’s a little towards the left and try not to notice your mother’s absence. You know she was admitted to the hospital three weeks ago and she hasn’t been doing too well. Kiyoomi squeezes your hand and whispers a, “you did well,” which you nod at.

He’s still smiling even as you exit the stage and pack up your instruments so you decide not to tell him that the boy sitting in that specific seat reminded you of Hajime.

-

Hajime, on the other hand became the contact on your inbox that got pushed down further and further when the holidays passed. You meant it when you said that you could never hate him—because you know you never really could.

He still showed up on your Instagram feed posting photos about his weekend road trips to Malibu or the spontaneous trips to Vegas his new friends looped him into—and you were happy to see him glowing. More times than not, your finger would hover over the like or send button to the comment you always end up deleting and you know it shouldn’t be that way. But reality reminds you that it is.

Your reality reminds you that Iwaizumi Hajime is someone who was witness to your growth and decline and that he was someone you chose to leave in the past.

But at the same time, his passing hellos were never left unheard. Kiyoomi knew, and like always, respected that. You would think this is the part where he should be reacting a little more aggressively, but you knew him to be above petty actions. He was secure, and he let that security be known in the grip of his hand that remained steady against yours when either Hanamaki’s or Issei’s eyes would stare a bit too long. They too, let their hesitations be known when you first introduced Kiyoomi to the both of them.

Issei opened his mouth with what looked to be the beginnings of a retaliation, but Hanamaki cut him off swiftly with a resounding, “We’re happy for you,” that promptly ended the conversation at that.

Then again, it didn’t change the fact that it was after that night where Hajime’s texts to you eventually dwindled to the seasonal greetings.

You tell yourself you don’t mind.

Because you don’t.

Because you’re fine.

-

Your mother isn’t fine.

Even though she’s been hospitalized for the past four weeks now, the past week has been specifically the most difficult. In and out of consciousness where different tubes were stuck and different needles prodded at her skin every day. It killed you because the second you heard her cry from when she thought you were still asleep rang in your ears over and over again throughout the day that resulted in you missing rehearsals for that entire week.

Kiyoomi drops by after school along with Hanamaki and Issei to check up on the both of you, but eventually leave when visiting hours end.

Kiyoomi usually stays a while longer, though; sitting outside the hospital parking lot and talking over a cup of coffee became a temporary permanent for the both of you during those weeks.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, then scoots closer to you on the bench when you exhale a sigh and lean forward. When your elbows settle into a rest on your thighs, you turn to him, offering a smile. It looked more like a sad quirk of the lip but Kiyoomi must have appreciated it more than he let on because his posture relaxes with you as he exhales.

“It’s weird, Omi,” you begin. “I mean she’s been at the hospital for treatments and checkups before but this is weird.”

Beside you, he stays quiet, and despite the distant noise of traffic in the background your voice sounds a little more amplified than you would have liked. None the less, you continued, “I’ve always known she hasn’t been fine but the past week just happened so fast.”

Puffing out another breath, you watch as it leaves you in a cloud before bringing the rim of the coffee cup to your lips. You don’t take a sip. Coffee was never your favorite anyway.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks you and turns his body completely to face you.

You think about it, then sigh. You don’t; at least, not yet.

“It’s okay, she’s strong,” you tell him and raise your cup as you shoot him another smile.

“So are you,” he offers as a reply, then knocks his cup against yours softly, chuckling when your face grimaces at the taste.

“Why do you always order coffee when you hate it?” he asks as he watches you take another sip.

You laugh, then scoot closer to lean your head on his shoulder. “It’s just practical,” you answer. “It helps me stay up so even if I’d rather get the peach tea, I know that one will knock me out within an hour from all the sugar.”

Kiyoomi laughs at your reply before looping his arm through yours and threading your fingers together.

“You can loosen up time to time, you know,” he tells you and you smile a smile that strains both the muscles on your face and feeling in your chest.

“I wish I could,” you answer.

-

“Are you happy?” your mother asks you later that night.

The question catches you off guard and you take a seat on her bed next to her. You don’t look at each other and instead look at the wall that’s in front of you, so, tentatively, you reply, “Of course I am.”

And she’s quiet after that so you return her silence and continue to sit next to her.

The clock hanging above the door of her hospital room ticks slowly and for a while you’re comfortable. At this point you aren’t sure whether you wanted time to move faster or slower—because you knew the moments you spend with her are granted through borrowed time.

Time that’s borrowed from the prayers you kneel and voice out every night, the needles and tubes that poke and prod at her skin every day, and from the pills you help count out every time your alarm rings.

She began slipping the minute she told you she was sick—and along the years you knew she let herself slide along the current more carelessly every time she told you she was tired.

You’re looking at her when she touches your hand and you try not to flinch at how cold her skin’s gotten. She’s smiling when you face her and it makes you inhale in a way that hurts because the look on her face practically just tells you she’s tired.

But like the two of you had always done: you stay silent and mirror your smiles instead.

“I’m proud of you,” she says and your heart breaks as you will yourself to not cry. It occurs to you that she isn’t crying when she says it because her voice is resolute as it is soft. You want to ask her why she’s proud of you but you don’t because you realize when this becomes a memory you just want to leave it at that.

You want to leave it as a moment where a mother is telling a child that she’s proud of her.

So instead, you ask her, “Are you coming to see the concert with me and Kiyoomi in a few weeks?” just to make sure. That she’s still there; that she will still be there.

Her silence is your answer before she’s reaching out between the two of you and squeezing your hands instead.

-

On a Tuesday morning the next week she passes away at 3:08 PM with her eyes closed and face serene. The nurses tell you she opened her eyes to look at the world once more before she closed them and exhaled her last breath.

She was probably looking for you, they mean to say, but you bow your head in thanks when the medical staff offer their heartfelt condolence. You aren’t sure if you wanted to see her close her eyes for her last breath, but at the same time—you wonder if that thought was too selfish on your part.

When you’re in the car in the parking lot of the hospital grounds, you smell her perfume—lilac, so you close your eyes and tell her soul rest easy and I love you.

You text Kiyoomi to meet you in the practice room to go over the score once more after you gave yourself a few more moments to pull yourself together.

He texts you back with an, “are you sure?” so you sigh because he must have already realized what happened. Your fingers hover over the keypad of your phone as you think of an excuse to cancel plans last minute but Kiyoomi’s contact photo on your phone interrupts your thoughts in a call.

Despite your hesitation, your finger press the green to answer the call almost immediately.

“(Y/n?)”

“Hey,” you respond.

“Want me to come get you?” Kiyoomi asks and you notice how much softer his tone is.

“I can still drive, it’s okay—“

“—Are you okay?” he cuts you off and you nod your head frantically. It felt too automatic, and that thought didn’t fly by you, so you sigh.

Kiyoomi notices your silence over the line but he stays and for that you’re grateful. He isn’t really pushing you and you feel a sense of gratitude again because you don’t exactly know what to say either.

Before you could reassure him that you’re in a sense, “okay,” his voice breaks the silence over the line again.

“No one else is here, so I’ll wait for you if you’re coming.”

The smile that breaks on your face is one of relief, or at least you think it is, because your eyes are stinging and you hear yourself sniffle when you tell him a quiet okay, and thank you.

“I love you,” is what you think you hear Kiyoomi say as you cut the call and put the car in reverse.

-

“Sakusa Kiyoomi present here?” you call out with a slight chuckle as you push open the door and peek in the room.

His head snaps towards you immediately so you offer him a sheepish smile at best when you finally arrive in front of him. Kiyoomi’s eyes are softening in the way that has your heart constricting automatically so you cast your gaze down and immediately fidget with the zipper on your violin case. The steps he takes are heavy and audible in the wooden flooring so your heart hammers even more when you hear him cross the distance between the two of you.

“(Y/n),” he starts and you look up when his hands are on your shoulder. They feel warm, you think, much like the look you see in his eyes when he steadies his gaze towards you.

Kiyoomi joins you in your silence when you choose to remain in it and respond to him by only stitching on another smile. The palm of his hand is still warm on your shoulder but you try to focus on anything but the waves of his sympathy and presence because you know the second you step back in reality, you’ll break—again.

So when his hand squeezes your shoulder and he parts his lips to say the condolence you don’t know when you’re ever going to be ready for, you cut him off.

“Please don’t,” you tell him, and it’s said with a tone that’s clipped tight and with lips pulled into a straight smile—the kind where you can already feel the edges crack with every second that passes.

Kiyoomi sighs and stares at you, but backs down when he feels your body tense.

“I’m right here,” he reassures, as you cast your gaze to the side when you feel the sting in your eyes threaten to overpower you.  

“I know,” you reply and with that he turns and takes his seat again.

The two of you are facing each other when you have your fingers on your respective positions and bow hovered over the string. The metronome in the background ticks and you close your eyes desperate to slip out and slip in to focus. The disconnection almost happens automatically because as soon as you hear yourself verbally count to start, your hand with the bow twitches and—

“(Y/n),” Kiyoomi cuts off and your movements automatically halt. The tone of his voice is solid and just like that you feel yourself begin to crumble; still, you try to harden, anyway.

“What’s up?” you say and open your eyes to look at him. The cello you thought was resting between his legs is set down next to his chair and his bow is on the music stand; he looks at you—intention transparent at this point.

“I love you,” he says. “Please talk to me—“he pleads, but you cut him off.

“Omi,” you begin. “I know what you want to tell me and I know you mean well, because you always do. But please—“you pause and look at him with as much intensity as you could muster before continuing, “—let me pretend like today is just a day where we’re practicing for the concert she could have finally gone to.”

Across you, his body leans forward before eventually halting at the sight of you tightening your grip on your bow.

“Just let me pretend this is a normal practice and I’ll be home later with someone still waiting inside the house,” you continue, volume rising but resolve shaking.

“Please,” you finish before tucking the violin back between your chin and shoulder and raising your bow to signal the start. Kiyoomi relents with a sigh and picks up his cello and bow before looking at you.

“Ready?” he asks when his bow is positioned above the string.

“Always am,” you reply and close your eyes as you slip back in focus and feel the bow glide into the first note.

The first note is an A, so you place your fourth finger on the D string and slip into your empty realm with a vibrato.

A memory flashes; you’re in the sixth grade again. It’s September, and you finally make it home with your new violin case in hand. Your mom comes home from work and smiles at you as you point at the strings and name them in the order your orchestra teacher had you memorize earlier.

“This one’s the A string,” you say and you see her smile like she’s proud of you.

The next note makes you climb to the third position, and you could recall that the dynamic changes around this measure, so along with Kiyoomi you’re pressing a little harder.

“We learned the third position today!” you hear your own voice say. It’s your second year playing and you’ve made it to the honors orchestra. Your mom sits in the living room, watching you with a twinkle in her eye that tells you she’s more than proud as you show her the arpeggio practice you learned earlier that day.

The next few notes fly across the fingerboard as the familiar crescendo builds. The depth of Kiyoomi’s strings blends with the octave you’re playing at as you feel yourself being swallowed and wading in your thoughts deeper and deeper until—

You stop.

Because with your eyes still closed, you suddenly see her from the night before. Your mother with the glimmering eyes and fragile hands, wearing the red beanie she said was her favorite ever since her hair fell out. And your eyes are still closed when you hear her tell you that she’s proud of you, her voice bringing you back to that night where you wanted to do nothing more but let your defenses down.

So involuntarily you do; your eyes are still closed when you begin to weep, but you can hear movement from the background before you eventually hear Kiyoomi call, “(Y/n),”

“I’m sorry,” you say and frantically wipe away at the tears and cough out the cries threatening to overflow and spill.

“(Y/n),” Kiyoomi says again and you look up.

His chair is turned so that he sits facing away from you. Your forehead scrunches with the peculiarity.

“Kiyo-“

“Just let it out,” he says then picks up his cello and continues playing from the measure you stopped at.

Then you do.

Like a thread snapping, a cry rips its way out of your throat as you finally, finally allow yourself to feel the heaviness that’s long settled in your chest. Your violin along with your bow set on the floor as you crouch down and press the heels of your palms against your eyes.

It hurts, you realize, when every time you close your eyes you still see her. You still hear her tell you her goodnight stories, affirmations, and reassurances.

It hurts, because you’re tired. Tired of living in the world trying to be the adult you know you aren’t just yet. You’re tired of going home and smiling with her when you could tell the reason why she has tear tracks on her cheeks was because of the call with your father you overheard from the night before.

Because you’re angry, you think. You’re angry at her illness. At your father for leaving and giving the weight of being a parent and provider at the same time. At the fact that neither of you were ever vulnerable enough to even cry in front of each other, and angry at yourself for never having the courage to tell her that it’s okay.

Because all this time you’re been struggling. Struggling to try to always be an adult when you never closed the chapter of your childhood. That you’ve always struggled to push past every affirmation that you’re okay and every single one of those moments were just bouts of false confidence. And it’s exhausting to put up a front to your own reflection.

Even when nothing has really been okay. You’re hurting even more when you realize that so you clutch your chest and cry harder.

This must be the consequence of pride, is the thought that comes to your head. You could build the strongest walls and wrap yourself in the most intricate barriers just to act tough but in time, you will break.

Like now; you’re sobbing into your palms for the years’ worth of pain you let pride push away while Kiyoomi is climbing even higher than the strongest dynamic you know the piece calls for.

You know he wants to let you know that it’s okay, and that you’re safe. His message resonates in pure clarity as he pushes on the strings harder and harder to swallow the sounds of your cries.

His back remains turned as you look at him, still crying, while your thanks bubbles out as incoherent as your cries.

It hurts, because you the only person you’ve cradled in your hands to heavens far higher than the ones you’ve known is gone.  

You’re still crying and the pain in your chest is still stinging much like the pain from a reopened wound does, but you let him come to you as he lets you come to him in an embrace.

“Let it out,” he murmurs in your hair as you wrap your hands around his middle and cry into the fabric of his shirt. He’s probably a little uncomfortable at you sniffling right into his shirt, but the way his hands are rubbing circles on your back reassures you otherwise.

“You’re okay,” Kiyoomi says again and you cry harder because you want to believe him.

Five missed calls and seven texts messages all coming from Hajime lays unopened on your phone at 6:17PM.

-

“She asked me if I was happy,” is what you tell Kiyoomi as the two of you stand side by side peering over her casket some days later.

“Are you?” he asks and you smile at him in a way that tells him that at the moment you’re not.

“Will you be happy?” comes the question after that and you shrug.

The lines on her face are like always, and the mole between her brows look the same. Your mother lays still in the casket, cheeks pink from the blush they put on her and lips red. You think your mother’s friends told the funeral workers to paint them her usual color, so you’re thankful for that. She looks like she’s just asleep—and you don’t know how to feel.

You want to reach out and hold her hand but you know the skin will be stiff and cold; you don’t want to remember her touch like that.

To you, she’s still alive.

She always will be alive.

Kiyoomi’s hand grasps yours in a way that’s as gentle as his presence has always been. When you look up then right to meet his eyes: looking like warmth despite the depth that it has words rolling out of your lips before you could comprehend the situation.

“I will be.”

Kiyoomi smiles and you look back down without bothering to further explain your answer.

You know he always believes you. The sentiment is one you appreciate, but at the same time, you’re not sure if you even believe yourself at the moment. You have to be strong, you think.

And just like that your defenses climb back up.

-

Takahiro along with Issei make it to the funeral along with Tooru and Hajime skyping in from overseas. It wasn’t as awkward like you expected it to be, and you’re glad.

Tooru’s crying along with Hajime and the rest of you as you watch her return to the opened earth.

You’ve dried your tears by the time you face Tooru and Hajime on the laptop screen, the grief on their faces similar to the one on yours.

“(Y/n),” Hajime starts, and you nod, waiting for him to continue. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” you respond, gaze focused to the left side of the screen—Tooru’s side.

Even though all you could see was Tooru’s expression on the screen tearing up with yours, you ignore the telltale scrunch of Hajime’s forehead where you know confirms his disbelief over your words.

“I’m coming home next week. Got a job offer there,” Hajime’s voice cuts again and before you could respond Tooru’s voice thrums over the speaker as you feel Kiyoomi’s hand settle on your shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks you when you look up at him. Nodding your head, you shoot him a smile before turning back to the screen, one hand resting on top of Kiyoomi’s.

“This is Kiyoomi,” you introduce and feel yourself unintentionally holding in a breath as you sit and watch for Hajime’s reaction. He’s quiet; eyes steeled over and form rigid. Probably just a trick of the camera, you tell yourself, so you open your mouth hoping to find an excuse and end the call early but Tooru’s voice overlaps yours for the second time that day.

“Ahh! The boyfriend?” He asks and you smile as you see him leaning closer to his laptop’s camera. You had to hand it to him; you know that look. Tooru was someone who could craft a mask and uphold it for as long as he needs and every time it was flawless.

Which was why when Kiyoomi bows his head in a greeting and greets, “It’s nice to meet you,” in the tone he used with your mother, you know he hadn’t caught on to the fact that he was facing a façade.

“Likewise,” Hajime’s voice cuts through and you try to not shiver at the intensity of it.

“Let’s catch up when I get home?” he says again; this time, softer and you nod before you could think of a response.

“Take care,” is the last thing you hear from him before the camera on his side of the screen blinks back to black and Tooru’s face magnified and centered.

“He’s finally coming home, (y/n)-chan,” Tooru smiles and at the sincerity of his voice you smile along with him.

“He finally is.”

-

Hajime had always been, and always will be your first love. You found yourself choked up the second you see him wave at you from the arrival’s gate and you swore in that moment hugging him felt like coming home.

Which was because of nostalgia, you told yourself. There had been so many firsts and memories shared with him that you know just because you moved forward with your life—that didn’t mean you’d buried what you had with him in the past.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi?” he asks when you’ve settled in the grass next to your mother’s tombstone with him across you.

“Yeah, he actually played for Itachiyama back in high school,” you say.

“Volleyball player turned classical musician?” he asks and you nod with a resonating yup, your hand trailing down to the grass to pick on the blades aimlessly.

“He made it to nationals too,” you comment.

“Are you trying to just rub it in?” he asks and tosses some ripped grass your way. You move to the side and stick your tongue out at him which he laughs at. Hajime’s laugh reminds you of the summer afternoons in your childhood home where you’d chase cicadas and write memories in polaroids and you’re suddenly feeling nostalgic.

“Nah,” you say and smile as you look up at him. He’s facing his right and letting his eyes glaze over the gold paint of your mother’s name on the cement.

“I miss her,” Hajime whispers and you nod, your heart squeezing.

“I do too,” you reply and when he looks at you and meets your eyes, you catch yourself smiling because he has tears threatening to spill over the waterline too. “Every day,” you continue.

“You’re making me cry,” Hajime huffs and leans back facing the front after he wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Your fault for still being soft,” you laugh. Unlike you, he’s always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” Hajime begins after the moments of recollection passes. You look at him and smile, not really sure whether you even have the desire to push through with the conversation or not. “Why are you even sorry?” is what you want to ask him, but you hear yourself say, “it’s okay, Haji,” instead.

“We could have made it,” he says again, his voice cracking as he looks at you.

“Could have,” you repeat and offer him a halfhearted smile at best.

“Do you regret us?” Hajime asks and he seems hesitant with his answer; like he doesn’t want to know your answer. You shake your head no as soon as you meet his eyes and reach your hands out in the space between you.

“Never,” you say and squeeze his hands when he takes yours into his own.

“You’re going to make me cry, again. Shit,” he laughs and this time, you laugh along with him.

The afternoon, despite the September air feels warm. Almost like the summer afternoons back home. So when you close your eyes, you let your defenses down as you imagine sitting in the garden: the one with the yellow and pink flowers, shouting promises in the air with Hajime and Tooru as the three of you let the wonder of childhood guide your idea of reality.

You decide that for just a while longer, you’ll keep those same defenses down as you feel Hajime pull you to stand up with him and face the open field behind the cross of her name.

“Wanna see if we can find cicadas?” he grins and you laugh, replying, “What are we, twelve?” as you follow him and break out into a run anyway.

It was in that afternoon that you realize, Hajime’s always felt like home. His presence always meant that your thoughts jumped back to the days where you watched his hair spike and grow like flowers from a garden blooming and wilting. To the days where talks of the future were shared over a dinner rolls and laughter. To the days where telling someone “I love you,” felt as natural as if you were just talking about the weather.

Hajime reminded you of losing yourself in the kind of love that felt unabashed and boundless. Like running on fields where the sun remained in the golden hour indefinitely. He was the first love you’ve cradled with a heart that was still a stranger to the ways of the reality.

“Are you happy?” he asks you when the sun above breathes the beginnings of a goodbye. You recognize the question your mother asked you before she passed and in that moment you close your eyes and envision yourself in a different year.  

“I am,” you whisper back earnestly and your heart flutters with every corner of the wall that crumbles down as you stare back at him.

He looks at you like he wants to ask a question but the thought of Kiyoomi flashes in your mind. Your eyes scan the flecks of emerald in Hajime’s as you close your eyes and feel yourself retreat along with the setting sun. The warmth in your chest remains as you think of Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi who told you to let it out and let it go. Kiyoomi with the midnight eyes who spoke of the answers to the questions you have yet to discover.

“I have to be happy,” is what you tell Hajime again and the smile he gives you is soft. Like he wants to dive down your thoughts more but instead chooses to remain anchored outside your walls.

But you still lean into his embrace as he pats your shoulder when you tell your mother goodbye.

She must be happy, you think to yourself. Because today was an afternoon spent in the sun like she was alive again.

A text from Kiyoomi to you and one from Issei to his brings you back to the present. You wave goodbye to the photograph of her on the tombstone while Hajime leaves a yellow flower he picked under the sun by her name.

He smiles and you hear him say he’ll walk you home.

Your heart thrums; it’s almost like he never left.

-

Hajime won’t leave.

Despite your intention for him to not show up to your house being extremely blunt in your text message, he shows up thirty minutes after Kiyoomi’s parked into your driveway.

“Hajime,” he grins, introducing himself with a hand stretched out in greeting as Kiyoomi looks at it in contemplation. You watch the two of them, three feet away and anxious at their first time face to face interaction.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” your boyfriend says and reaches out to shake his hand. You could practically feel yourself sigh in relief.

“Haji, you didn’t have to come,” you say and shoot him a tight lipped smile. “Omi and I can handle the boxes, plus there’s not much left to pack up anyway.”

“So,” Hajime begins, turning around and blatantly ignoring what you just said. “Makki says there’s some heavier stuff in the attic? I can help you with that.”

Kiyoomi looks at you as you eventually sigh and nod at him to follow Hajime up into the attic.

-

For the rest of the day it went on like that. At every hint you dropped in regards to the lack of necessity for Hajime’s presence—he’s suddenly tuning out and changing the topic. It was like he couldn’t hear. You huff when Kiyoomi shoots you a look that hints his amusement towards your predicament.

Hajime’s time in California surely must have rubbed off on him.

“You two shared a lot of memories,” Kiyoomi comments after he sees Hajime point at a trinket and recall a story.

“We grew up together,” you reply and Hajime nods along with you, smiling.

“I knew she was gonna be a real one when she didn’t chicken out from catching cicadas with me,” Hajime laughs across you.

“You used to catch cicadas?” Kiyoomi questions, eyebrow quirking up. You had to fight the urge to smile at the way his two moles scrunched together.

“Used to,” you answer and grip the photo album in your hand before placing it into the box. It was one of your favorites, you remember. You spent your summer nights pasting stickers and writing captions into the photos your mom took of you, Hajime, Tooru and your dog. There were probably a few in there that were with her, but you decide you can put off the nostalgic trip for later as you shut the book and tuck it into a corner of the box.

“Sakusa,” Hajime initiates when the three of you stand back up, stretching then facing each other: Kiyoomi to your left and Hajime across the two of you. “Take care of her will you?”

“I plan to,” Kiyoomi replies beside you and you reach to squeeze his hand as you watch him offer Hajime a sincere smile.

“Can you give us a moment?” you ask Kiyoomi and he’s quick to nod.

“Thanks,” you say and lean into his kiss on your forehead before watching him grab the remaining box and make his way out the door.

Hajime stands in front of you with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“He’s a good guy,” he tells you and you smile gently, head nodding in agreement to his words.

“One of the best,” you reply, smiling.

“You’re happy right?” Hajime says more than asks, but before you could answer, he speaks again.

“I’m here for you, always,” he confesses quietly and you swallow thickly because you could already decipher the meaning behind his words.

“Who’s going to pull your scarf to remind you that it’s cold?” Hajime declares softly and you knit your eyebrows together as you tell him that you can do it yourself.

“I know you can,” he laughs and walks closer to you as he tugs off his own scarf and wraps it around your neck.

“I just like doing it for you.”

-

“Earlier,” Kiyoomi begins after he’s settled in the couch of your new apartment’s living room. You turn to face him, attention in focus then wait for him to continue.

“When we were upstairs Iwaizumi-san asked where you were moving.”

“Oh yeah? I forgot I didn’t tell him my new address, thanks for remi—“

“He asked again if we were going to be moving in together and I didn’t answer,” he swiftly cuts you off. You stare back at him, confused, then nod your head urging him to continue.

“I didn’t answer him at first because I wanted to see how he’d react.”

“Omi—“

“(Y/n),” he sighs. You blink back, confused.

“He still loves you.”

Kiyoomi says this like he’s just talking about the weather and because of that you’re suddenly aware of fast the room dipped into the newfound silence. Your heart hammers in your chest while you feel your hands curl into a familiar fist; fingernails automatically moving to dig into the flesh of your palms.

“Of course he does, I do too—“you reason, but his expression shifting has you revising your choice of words.

“I will always love him, Omi. Haji was my friend before he became anyone else,” you explain, softly, and reach out to take his hand in yours. He smiles at you and you mirror it, appreciating the way he didn’t pull out of your touch.

“Is that it?” he asks before you look at him, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“What else is there?” you laugh and shift your focus to his hand on yours.

“Are you really happy?”

“With this?” he questions again and sits up, taking both of your hands in his. Kiyoomi stares with baited breath, so when the silence buzzes in your ear even louder, you nod.

“With us?” Kiyoomi whispers and the echo it delivers rings loud. You hear his question ricochet from the walls to your ears over and over again while you stare straight into the plethora of questions he chooses not to vocalize manifesting themselves in his eyes.

Then, almost slowly, you nod. Because you are happy, though more so thankful. But that’s still happiness, the voice in your head reasons, so you relent and cup his face.

“You’re my blessing, Kiyoomi,” is the truth that’s spoken from your lips as you watch something living unfold in his.

“I love you,” is what he says and you nod, speechless, as he presses his forehead against yours because you feel everything in his words.

“Are you happy?” he asks again when you part and you smile, remembering your mother and Hajime’s words. The sentiment in his question is one of honesty, that in that moment, it suddenly fills you with newfound warmth.

“She asked me the same thing,” you answer, vulnerable. Kiyoomi always had a way that made it okay to feel vulnerable.

“Because I think she knows your answer,” he tells you quietly and what he says makes you think of his words.

“I’ll get there,” is what you planned to answer but before you could get the words out you’re suddenly widening your eyes as you see Kiyoomi shift and bend down on one knee in front of you, a ring in his hand.

-

Three years later | Italics in flashback

For the first time in your life everything felt connected.

From the pin that held your veil together, to the yellow and pink roses that bloomed along an aisle of white.

Everything felt like it was finally in place as Tooru took one look at you from behind the doors and teared up.

“Please don’t make me cry,” you tell him and smile as you loop your arm through his.

“This is payback for making me cry when you asked if I could give you away,” he laughed before dabbing at the corners of his eyes.

“Thank you, Tooru,” you whisper as he gives you one final look. The browns of his eyes reminded you that you are loved.

“Your mom would be so happy now,” is his reply as the doors open.

She would be happy, you think as you take one, two, then four steps forward as you grip your bouquet tighter. The pendant with her photo is surrounded in gold plating, and you find yourself thinking that nothing suited her better than gold.

To and for you, she had always been golden.

You feel Tooru part with you midway as he lets you walk the final stretch alone. It was supposed to be the other way around, Issei commented before, but Takahiro was quick to side with you and say it was fitting. Even if Tooru stood in your parent’s place to symbolize giving you away, a parent’s job is really just to walk with you to the halfway mark in life and let you walk the rest of the way alone.

You find yourself smiling at the memory.

The engagement ring on your left finger catches the light from the photographer’s flash as the first notes of a cello play.

“I would ask you to marry me but I know you’re going to tell me no,” Kiyoomi tells you.

“I don’t know you, yet, (y/n). But I know you just enough to know there’s some things you are choosing to not let go of.”

You watch him stare at you, eyes soft and understanding you’re suddenly overcome with the urge to cry again.

From the aisle, your eyes catch Kiyoomi’s as he stares back at you, beautiful and iridescent in the light. He’s always looked the most beautiful when he felt connected with music, you think. Much like now, as he presses harder on the strings and close his eyes to slip into the element.

“It’s okay,” Kiyoomi soothes, and reaches forward to wipe the tear sliding down your cheek.

“I don’t think I got to know you, just yet. I only saw bits of who you were under that exterior and neither of us know if we could work as well then if we lay ourselves bare now,” he continues and you nod, understanding his point.

“I love how resilient you are, (y/n),” Kiyoomi whispers and you smile because his voice isn’t cracking. He’s okay with this, and somehow, that lifts the heaviness in your chest. “I love how you never break despite the situation, but I’ve only known that side of you so far.”

“You deserve someone who’s seen you from the start. I can stay and we can work this out, but I don’t know if I’ll love you then. Iwaizumi loved you then and now, and I think you still do too. I could never take you away from that.”

“I don’t want to ask you who you are yet,” he says and you nod telling him you’re still getting to know yourself too.

“She’ll be proud of you regardless,” Kiyoomi finishes and with that you sob.

Kiyoomi opens his eyes and looks at you with a smile while he continues to play. Thank you, you mouth telling him, and he smiles as he plays harder.

“For what it’s worth,” you begin. “I know,” Kiyoomi finishes and the smile on his face is as sincere as his words. “Our time will always be a part in history that will be ours.”

You inhale, smile, and then cup his face in your hands. “It will always be priceless,” you add.

This was a piece you recognized from years ago, you recall with a smile. If you had your violin with you, it wouldn’t take much for you to remember the score and slip into a duet with him. The dynamics, you recognized too—and the way Kiyoomi’s playing only tells you he’s playing even louder.

Three years ago he played the same piece you would have played for the concert your mom would have finally made it to. The same day she died you sat in a practice room with Kiyoomi, crying your heart out as the he plays the same melody you’re walking to now.

Let it out, is what he told you and you did just that.

Let it go, is what he also wants you to know and you did that too.

All your life you’ve thought of love and thought it was lost when you lost her. Kiyoomi, you realize, is the love you were just beginning to learn. The love you’ve parted with before you tangled yourself in too deep; and perhaps in another lifetime you could chase each other bare bones and all, but in this life you know Hajime is the love you thought you closed the door to despite leaving it ajar.

One last look at Kiyoomi lets you see that he closes his eyes as you turn away and face forward.

And when you do, you see colors.

Green from his eyes, like the leaves on your bouquet and the grass outside your childhood home. A yellow flower pinned on his breast pocket; the color from the petals of a flower your mother loved to grow the most. Pink; like the color his cheeks turned into when you first shook his hand.

Then when he smiles at you—you feel a sense of home. When you see him begin to cry, you feel a sense of love that washes over you like the soft waves of the shallow end.

Steady, constant, and safe.

Love, like the words your mother wrote to you in a letter you discovered in an old journal. Where she wrote that even if she never had your father to love, she found her love in you. To be cradled in you so that was enough for her.

That she knew she was strong, but even more so because her strength was drawn from being with you.

Love, like the words from a friend as you remember Kiyoomi’s reminder that it’s okay to take that hand that just wants to pull you out of the deep end.

Love, like the awakening from the depth and seeing that Hajime is the hand that’s been there all along and you have yet to take.

Love, you remember like your mother’s voice.

Love, like the one that has been with you since the beginning. Because you were loved from the very start.

And Hajime—whose name spoke of beginnings.

for my mother whose love cradled me from the beginning. may you rest where the flowers bloom the most beautiful. i love you.

[sukirichi]

suki’s restaurant is now CLOSED! please read updates after the “keep reading” tab!

thank you for the milestone! it’s really such a huge gift to me since i just started posting jjk content here ten days ago (◕ᴗ◕✿) as a small token of appreciation, all requests are now open and there’s a variety of ingredients you can choose from!

masterlist !

meal guides:

🥞 breakfast - fics longer than 1k word counts

🍙 lunch (headcanons)

🍷 wine (nsfw content)

🍰 snack (timestamps, imagines & drabbles)

🍌 thirsts (ramble with me about our smexy thoughts!) for the brainrots

PLEASE READ:

— this event is officially closed. my asks are only open for the previous anons who i’ve asked to do a redo for any mistakes/restrictions in their previous orders.

— new requests will no longer be accepted. or maybe it will because i’m easily swayed with great ideas but it will no longer be part of the milestone event.

— my writing schedule is only during wednesdays, fridays, and the weekends. some works will be written in advance and scheduled to post daily (if possible.)

— please be patient! as you can see, i’ve got a lot of requests, and i really want your meals to be as pleasing and delicious as possible, so please please be patient. i’m training for med school and i’ve got other responsibilities too. if you want to decline a request if you can’t wait for it, that’s fine. 

— i’m human so...my mind can change any minute, and i could no longer be interested in a certain idea. if that happens, i’ll reply to your ask that i won’t be serving your meal anymore even if it’s here on the list below. it sounds kind of rude, but i wouldn’t want to write something i’m not interested in for the sake of pleasing others, because if i write something i don’t enjoy/am not that interested in anymore, then the meal won’t turn out as good had i been passionate for it. it’s going to be done out of forced productivity and the food might taste bad :<

— the last batch of accepted meals will be marked as ✿

— favorites will be marked as ★. because they’re the ideas i find most interesting and the ones i adore the most, they will take longer to be completed. i really want to give my ultimate best on that and just UNLEASH everything i have in me.

how to order!

✦ choose from the ingredients below

✦ choose your own sugar and spice!

✦ choose from the meal guides above! please specify if you want your request to be

✦ send in your request by dropping it on my ask box!

✦ be as descriptive as you want in your request, i want to make a good meal for you!

✦ example of how to order: 

— breakfast: ingredient 9 + sugar 1 for gojo 

— alternative: 9+1+1+song (optional) + dialogue of choice (optional)

— alternative:  breakfast with wine: ingredient 9 + sugar 1 + spice 1 for gojo

— optional: ingredient 9 + sugar 1 + spice 1 for toji + cookie “starboy by the weeknd” and “you wanna fuck me so bad”

ingredients : au (max of 2 picks!)

CROSSED OUT OPTIONS MEANS IT’S NO LONGER AVAILABLE

✦ sugar daddy au

✦ arranged marriage au

✦ accidental pregnancy au

✦ high school au

✦ university au

✦ med! student au / doctor! au

✦ lawyer au

✦ detective au

✦ ceo au

✦ sugar mommy au

✦ neighbours au

✦ bed sharing au

✦ roommates au

✦ co-workers au

✦ body swap au

✦ soulmate au

✦ fake dating au 

✦ marriage for convenience au 

✦ bodyguard au

✦ assassin au

✦ married au 

✦ love triangle au

✦ mutual pining au

✦ unrequited love au

✦ meet drunk au

✦ meet cute au

✦ siblings’ friend au

✦ friend’s sibling au

✦ established relationship au

✦ breakup au

✦ barista au / coffee shop au

✦ teacher x student au

✦ royalty au

✦ rentboy au 

✦ camboy/camgirl au

✦ ex au

✦ mistaken identity

✦ fuck buddies au

✦ bartender au

✦ tattoo artist au

✦ apocalypse au

✦ playboy au

✦ stoner au

✦ love at first sight au

✦ hate sex au

✦ sleepover au

✦ worthy opponent au

✦ age gap au

✦ loss of virginity au

✦ gangster au

✦ mafia au

✦ bet au

✦ rebound au

✦ drunk hookup au 

✦ bad boy good girl au

✦ amnesia au

✦ reincarnation au

✦ one of them is famous 

✦ one of them doesn’t know the other exists

✦ one of them is oblivious 

✦ one of them is taken already 

✦ polar opposites au

✦ met at the subway au

✦ library au

✦ football player au

✦ canon au (jjk canon)

✦ send me your own au!

sugar: tropes (max of 2 picks!)

CROSSED OUT OPTIONS MEANS IT’S NO LONGER AVAILABLE

✦ best friends to lovers

✦ enemies to lovers

✦ lovers to enemies

✦ strangers to lovers

✦ mutual pining 

✦ unrequited love

✦ forbidden relationship

✦ partners in crime

✦ slow burn

✦ send me your own trope!

spice: (for nsfw requests) (max of 3 picks!)

CROSSED OUT OPTIONS MEANS IT’S NO LONGER AVAILABLE

— here are the kinks/sexual content i’m comfortable writing about. there’s still a lot of kinks idk about so if it’s not here, please feel free to include the spice in the ask!

✦ breeding kink

✦ size kink

✦ stockholm syndrome

✦ age play

✦ agoraphilia (public place kink)

✦ somnophilia (consensual sex where the other is asleep)

✦ breath play

✦ dumbification

✦ cum play

✦ begging kink

✦ praising kink

✦ thigh riding

✦ collaring

✦ face sitting

✦ 34+35

✦ dacryphilia

✦ disciplining

✦ dirty talking

✦ exhibitionism

✦ role playing

✦ gagging

✦ watersports

✦ send me your own kink!

cherry on top : characters

CROSSED OUT OPTIONS MEANS IT’S NO LONGER AVAILABLE

— characters i can write anything for (nsfw & sfw)

: gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, fushiguro toji, choso, noritoshi kamo, ryoumen sukuna, nanami kento, okkotsu yuta

— characters i can only write sfw for

: itadori yuuji, inumaki toge

— characters i want to write for but don’t think i can write well (nsfw & sfw)

: suguru geto, naoya zenin

— characters i’m MOST eager to write simp for

: fushiguro toji, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, choso, naoya zenin

additional cookie!

✦ send me a song as a story inspo!

✦ send me your dialogue! (ex. “shut up and kiss me.”)

restaraunt rules : please read!

— i do not write about yandere, stalker, pregnant! reader (unless it’s still until the early age where the belly is still small), non-con, and heavily canon requests 

— nsfw content i won’t write about: period sex, blood play, temperature play, pegging, male characters dressing up as female, monster fucking (sorry, sukuna won’t be getting four arms if you want nsfw for him), bestiality, incest, hypnosis (non-con related)

— not exactly a restriction, but please keep in mind that y/n is still a character for me as the writer. i may or may not add in features that even though isn’t explicit, could be something not suitable for everyone. phrases like, “he peered down at her” sounds neutral enough, but could still be implied that the reader is shorter than the anime character. it’s difficult to write a 100% neutral fic that won’t imply appearance one way or another. if i’ve written anything offensive/upsetting, feel free to tell me about it. i’ll do my best to keep it neutral.

— the reader will always be female bodied in nsfw content

— please be patient! i want to write fics the requester enjoys so i’m going to take my time in preparing your meal!

— i may or may not cook your meal 100% according to your request. depending on my comfort upon the idea, i may have to tweak a detail or two.

— i can refuse your request if i don’t want to write about it for personal or other reasons. i’ll let you know beforehand.

— wine will take longer to be served!

— i will announce if a trope/au/character is no longer open for requests. i feel like some ingredients will be quite common amongst requesters and i don’t want to write for the same thing over and over again. same goes in the manner that if you have a similar request to another, it’ll be fused into one idea/meal.

— if your request contains offensive/uncomfortable content, i won’t even respond back to you. i’ll immediately delete your ask.

— if you still don’t get or are confused by the guides, send me an ask! i’ll happily guide you!

— this event is now closed. i will temporarily be closing my ask box so i don’t get flooded. i’ll open it again tonight for anyone who has questions or just want to drop a message!

hmm...i’m still not sure how to order for my meal.

✧ what if the story/scenario i want isn’t included in the choices above?

— as i’ve stated, please feel free to request whatever you want! the choices are there to give people an idea what they’d like to see, but if it’s not there, you can still request for it as stated in the “send me an au/trope/kink you want!”

✧ what if i don’t have any ingredient, spice, or sugar i want but a song inspo anyway?

— that’s also fine, but it would be preferred if you’re descriptive so your meal could be delivered better and faster. in this case though, i’ll just have to get creative!

✧ what if i want more than one character in the request?

— having others included in the request is fine, but as much as possible, i can only write a maximum of two main characters (the reader excluded)

✧ what if i want to request for the ones you want to write for but you don’t think you can pull it off well?

— just a heads up! i would love to write for them, but because i’m not entirely caught up in the manga, the characters mentioned above aren’t ones i know very well yet. 

✧ not exactly regarding the meal, but i’ve sent you requests from last week. would you still be writing them?

— i’ve received several requests when my bio states that requests are closed. however, because the ideas are actually really precious and i know i’d have fun writing them, i’d still write about them. i just cannot guarantee you’ll receive your meal soon since my requests were closed when you sent them. 

UPDATES:

Day One: breeding kink, size kink, thigh riding, married au, best friends to lovers is NO LONGER AVAILABLE.

Day Two: established relationship au, mutual pining, dumbification, and gojo satoru is NO LONGER AVAILABLE. to the asks that were received before this update, you may check on the requests accepted whether you made it to the cut or not. i’ll update this later. the restaurant will also reach out to you if one of your requested ingredients/spice/sugar/cherry on top did not make the cut. my asks are still open, so please tweak your requests a little bit to what is available! 

Day Two Update 2: Restaurant is CLOSED! spice 6 (somnophilia) is also no longer available! Check the requests accepted to see if you’ve made the cut, the latest and last accepted requests will be marked as ✿! 

requests accepted:

✦ fushiguro megumi

megumi really likes reader and gojo, yuuji, nobara helps him confess

shy megumi who is really flustered and shy around his crush  meals fused into one. read here: not shy

★🥞🍷 40 (tattoo artist au) + 5 (mutual pining) + 2,12,13 (size kink, praise kink, thigh riding) + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy read here: work of art

(★🥞🍷 5 (university au) + 5 (mutual pining) + 12, 3 (praise kink, stockholm syndrome) + virgin megumi) i’ve been outlining this for days but idk...i just can’t seem to form something out of it. i still have it saved but idk if i can still finish, i’ll try my best though.   it’s just challenging to write, sorry :( MEAL UNAVAILABLE

🥞 + 33 (royalty au) + 1 (best friends to lovers)

🍷 + 27 (siblings’ friend au) + 1, 11, 19 (breeding kink, dumbification, dirty talking) + feral megumi (feral megumi supremacy) read here: unstoppable

🥞 + 3, 38 (accidental pregnancy, fuck buddies au) + childhood friends to lovers + baby moments with father! megumi MEAL ORDER 9 & 7 FUSED read here: happy little accidents

★ vampire au + 55 (reincarnation au) + 6 (somnophilia) + vampire markings + blood drinking + nursing megumi...or him nursing you? hmm? (STRUGGLE PAANIK) read here: scarlet

✿ 🍰🍷 23, 38 (mutual pining au, fuck buddies au) might fuse it with request 7  MEAL ORDER 9 & 7 FUSED read here: happy little accidents

✦ nanami kento

jealous nanami with oblivious reader + gojo annoying nanami making nanami confess read here: a little push

comfort & angst fic where reader dates gojo but gojo cheats so she breaks down, leaves him, and nanami comforts reader  it’s too difficult for me to write sorry :(

★🥞 + 33 (royalty au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) read here: violet

🥞🍷 + 21 (married au) +  4 (strangers to lovers) + 2, 12 (size kink, praising kink) MEAL U

🥞🍷 + 23 (mutual pining au) + 1 (best friends to lovers) + 1 (breeding kink) read here: like crashing waves

ingredient 6 (med! student au / doctor! au)  + sugar 7 (forbidden relationship) + spices 12 (praising kink) + dacryphilia read here: overtime

✦ noritoshi kamo

fem!dom reader where nori defends his wife from the elders so she gives him the best night + blowjobs + overstimulation + sub! househusband nori + tit sucking spspss (MEAL UNAVAILABLE)

🍷 + 18 (marriage for convenience au) + 5 (mutual pining) + 18 (disciplining)

🥞 + 21 (married au) + 1,13 (breeding kink, thigh riding) meals fused into one, breeding kink is no longer included | read here: i know

🥞🍷 + 20, 58 (assassin! reader, oblivious! noritoshi) + 13 (thigh riding) + love at first sight + “wait, are you flirting with me?” + “have been since the beginning, thanks for finally noticing.” (BIG BRAIN ENERGY) read here: illusion

✦ gojo satoru

serotonin boost for that lovely anon gojo simp 9487 (i’m going to make this special for you because i love you anon) i was thinking maybe gojo comforts his uni!student s/o? just fluff and some cutesy tootsy to relieve your stress! MEAL FUSED WITH SEVEN

Tokyo by Leat’eq + ice cream shop! au with limited cat themed ice cream, you need to wear cat ears to go order + “nyaa!” read here

🍷 + 44 (hate sex au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) + 12 (praising kink) read here: divine

🥞🍷  + 29 (established relationship au) + 5 (mutual pining) no longer included + 6 (somnophilia) + fused with other request that isn’t listed here read here: sweet angel

✿ 🥞🍷 + 29 (established relationship au) + 12,15 (praising kink, face sitting) + reader runs into awful ex and gets worshipped by gojo like they deserve (queen tingz) + gojo comfort read here: breathless

(✿ 🥞🍷 + 12 (bed sharing au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) + 19 (dirty talk) + magdalena bay : killshot + jujutsu tech goes on a trip, gojo and reader ends up sharing rooms and a twin bed)  i’ve been outlining this for days but idk...i just can’t seem to form something out of it. i still have it saved but idk if i can still finish, i’ll try my best though.   it’s just challenging to write, sorry :( MEAL UNAVAILABLE

★✿ 50,1 (mafia au, sugar daddy au) + spice 8,12 (dumbification, praising kink) wow butterfly anon POPPED OFF | read here: earned it

✿ 33 (royal au) + 5 (mutual pining) + 11 (praising kink) read here: fall from grace

✦ choso my MAN

Tokyo by Leat’eq + ice cream shop! au with limited cat themed ice cream, you need to wear cat ears to go order + “nyaa!” + flustered choso + “onii-chan” read here

★🥞 + 17, 34 (fake dating, rentboy au) + 2 (enemies to lovers) + optional wine read here: easy

soulmate au + forbidden relationship MEAL UNAVAILABLE

✦ inumaki toge

🥞 + 15 (body swap au) + 1 (best friends to lovers) read here: total opposites

🥞 + 10 (sugar mommy au) + 4 (strangers to lovers) BIG BRAIN ENERGY THIS ONE (STRUGGLE PAANIK)  it’s too difficult for me to write sorry :(

★🥞 + 64 (canon au) + 5 (mutual pining) + sensitive first kiss with inumaki, them trapped in a room + yuuji as matchmaker uwu + WALL PIN KISS YES SIR + basically hot af inumaki...debating whether i should turn into wine HMMM read here: delicate

✦ naoya zenin 🙄

naoya putting reader back in their place, LONG SCHLONG CLUB read here: acquainted

✿ deity au + virgin sacrifice for naoya + reader with worship kink (DAMN THIS ONE GOT ME TINGLING, its going to be consensual tho, we all have consent kink in this house) read here: true gift

✦ okkotsu yuta 

🍷 + 53 (bad boy good girl au) + 8,10 (dumbification) read here: good for you

★🥞🍷 + 65 (both are oblivious) + 5,9 (mutual pining, slow burn) + 6,9,16 (somnophilia, cum play, 34+35) MEAL UNAVAILABLE

✿ 🥞🍷 58, 65 (one of them is oblivious, hanahaki disease on reader) + 5,9 (mutual pining, slow burn) + 12 (praising kink + cockwarming) + clumsy first time sex MEAL UNAVAILABLE

✦ itadori yuuji 

🥞 + 21 (married au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) (STRUGGLE PAANIK) it’s too difficult for me to write sorry :( MEAL UNAVAILABLE

✦ toji fushiguro

★✿ toxic toji YES + enemies to greater enemies + toji railing reader in front of someone they’re seeing because he doesn’t want to see you happy but he doesn’t want to “keep” you either (LOL this is so toji, might tweak a little bit) read here: personal disaster

age gap au + size kink, somnophilia read here: shhh

✦ ryoumen sukuna

🥞 + 2 (arranged marriage) + 2 (enemies to lovers) read here: black magic

55 (reincarnation au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) no longer included + unrequited love + home from war inspired read here: home from war: the ending

✿ 🍷 + 38 + master x servant + degrading, edging, begging (oooh degrading aint my kink but let’s see let’s see) MEAL UNAVAILABLE

[just-here-for-the-moment]

You just had to bring the symbol of Victory into this didn't you?!???? Is this some sort of euphemism I should look forward to or!??!?!?????

Yes!! Let me “paint you a picture” (groan)... Also, I sat down to draft my response and it's somehow *gestures at this whole mess* 2300+ words!?? And confession time! I’ve never even SEEN "The Mentalist"! Everything I know about Marcus Pike has come from cute GIFs and the Internet and fanfics… so… I don’t even know what’s going on with me today. But thank you! :D

(This is leaking over from this post if anyone needs to play catch-up)

Paris

Word count: 2300+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Marcus Pike x “You” in Paris, reader is an Art History Professor (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow burn; cute Marcus Pike; coffee and pastries; kissing and stuff; public-ish sex in the Louvre after hours; spontaneous P/V sex (probably unprotected, idek) we're all adults here, wrap it before YOU tap it!

It’s like, you and sweet Marcus have definitely hit it off and you’re really into each other after that field trip meet-cute and your date, but you haven’t slept together yet. He gets called away for a case, so you wish him good luck and hope that you can see each other again soon.

A few days later it’s spring break and you have a trip to Paris planned to complete some research for your next publication. You email Marcus while you're waiting to board. You let him know that you’re going to be out of town for a few days, but that you hope his case is going well, and maybe when he's back you two can pick up where you left off?

You land in Paris and check your messages, and you see that Marcus has replied to your email. He says he can't share the details of his case, but that he hopes he'll be wrapped up by the end of the week, and that he definitely wants to see you again. He asks about your research trip, so you shoot a quick email back to fill him in on the details.

You get to your hotel and sink into a hot bath with your phone. You open your emails, and your brain tells you that you're just checking to confirm the details of your appointment with your research contact in the morning... but the little uptick in your heart rate tells you that you're actually looking for another reply from Marcus. And it's there. He says that he loves Paris and that your research sounds exciting. He asks where you’re staying? You give him the name of your hotel, and tell him that you haven't stayed there before, but it's cute.

Before the water even gets cold you have another reply, sending the butterflies behind your navel into a tizzy. He says that he's stayed there once or twice and that the café in the lobby has excellent pastries. You smile and let yourself imagine a vacation with Marcus, here in Paris, sharing pain au chocolat over a little table in the café. You refill the tub with hot water and sit daydreaming for so long that your fingers prune up.

You get out of the bath and wrap yourself in a plush robe, and sit on the edge of the bed. You email Marcus back, wishing him a good night and telling him that it's late where you are, but that you promise to try one of the pastries in the morning with your breakfast coffee. By the time you're in your nightgown and ready to sleep he's responded, wishing you sweet dreams and hoping that your research goes well. You smile and reply, "Thanks," and then drift down into pleasant dreams.

The next morning you take yourself to the little lobby café and treat yourself to a café crème and an almond croissant. Marcus was right, and you nearly moan aloud as you wrap your mouth around the flaky pastry. You open your email and send him a picture of your croissant with one bite missing, and you joke that you blame him for ruining you for any other boulangeries you might visit during your trip. By the time you're done with breakfast he's responded with a wink emoji and a quick "Sorry I ruined you," and you desperately want to email him back and boldly ask him to ruin you in other ways. You stop yourself, and your brain can't think of anything appropriate, so you just don't respond and you leave to go to your research appointment.

The day is long, and the dusty archives and a few misfiled papers cause small irritations. But you find a few of the things that you needed, so you call it productive enough. You break at 3 p.m. and decide to start again fresh in the morning. Maybe an early dinner and another scalding hot bubble bath will set you right. You decide that the weather is nice, and that your hotel is close enough that you can stroll back and people watch, disconnect your brain from your work and transition into relaxation mode along the way.

You arrive back at your hotel and go to your room to change. There is a card slipped under your door, the front desk letting you know that you have a delivery of some kind to pick up. You try to remember if any of your colleagues or your boss mentioned that they would send you anything? Is it paperwork? Some kind of file for your research? You decide to shower and change into a nice dress to lift your mood, and then head back out for dinner.

You take the card to the lobby desk and hand it to the desk clerk and he disappears into the back office. When he returns you're surprised to see that he's holding a floral arrangement, not huge or ostentatious, but lovely and cheerful and somehow your favorite color exactly. The clerk sets the vase on the desk. You reach for the card and open it.

"Good luck on your research. -Marcus"

You break into a wide grin and you practically float back to your room. You set the flowers on the room table and open your email to thank him. You send him a photo and an effusive "Thank you!" and a winky kiss emoji. Is that too much? No - if one little emoji scares him off then he's not the guy you thought he was.

He responds within minutes, a quick "You're welcome. Glad they arrived in one piece." and his own winky kiss emoji. Your heart flutters and you reply immediately, "They're really lovely. Thank you for thinking of me."

A moment later his next email pops up: "Can I take you to dinner and pick up where we left off?"

You reply: "Absolutely! I'll let you know as soon as I'm back in town!"

He responds: "No, I meant tonight."

You hesitate, does he want to call you and chat on the phone while you eat dinner? Some kind of video call, like a virtual date? Before you can type your reply, a new message pops up: "I'm actually in Paris. My case is here and I arrived a few days before you did. I didn't want to scare you off or come to your hotel unannounced, but I'm free tonight and I'd love to see you."

You throw your head back and laugh. This is definitely way more fun than eating alone and people-watching. You message back an enthusiastic, "Yes! I'm ready when you are!" and he emails you and says he'll see you in 30 minutes in the lobby. When you get downstairs he's waiting by the front desk, all soft scruff and loosened tie and warm brown eyes, just as you remembered. You smile and hug him, and in that moment you feel like a fairy-tale princess meeting her prince, being swept off your feet in the most romantic city in the world.

You have dinner at a cozy bistro around the corner, Marcus making you bubble with laughter as you talk. He listens to you moan about the missing pieces of your research, your pressing need to track down a letter from one artist to another that was mentioned in an old diary but which hasn't yet surfaced. You're sure it's around the archives somewhere, just waiting for you to piece it together with the rest of your project. Marcus tells you that his case is almost wrapping up, and if you want he can arrange to catch the same flight home as you. You smile and tell him that would be nice.

You finish dinner and he asks if you want to go to the Louvre, and you check the time and say that they're almost closing. Marcus smiles at you and says, "Don't worry about it," and he looks a little mischievous. You tell him you're up for an adventure, and he takes your hand and ushers you into a taxi.

When you arrive he asks the desk staff for someone he knows, and you make a quick run to the restroom. When you return, Marcus has two laminated badges, special access for professionals and visiting staff that allows you to stay for a few hours past closing. You can't believe your luck, being allowed to spend extra time in one of the most special places in the world, not to mention that your escort is the most handsome and charismatic man you've ever met.

You start in the Denon wing and wander through the museum, talking and laughing quietly, enjoying the opportunity to see things that you would normally have to fight hordes of tourists to see. And maybe "enjoy" isn't the right word, because if someone asked you how you were feeling right now, you would say you were "on cloud nine" or "elated" or "floating." It feels like a dream, and you're not sure if you're going to remember all of it later, but you desperately want to, and you're trying so hard to file every sight away into your brain.

When you reach the Mona Lisa, an odd hush falls over you, and you realize it's the first time you've ever seen it without a crowd twenty deep in front of it. Marcus seems to know what you're feeling, because he takes your hand, almost shyly. And he keeps holding it, warming your fingers as the two of you walk on. You stop in front of Delacroix, "Liberty Leading the People," and you tell Marcus that it's the first painting you ever fell in love with, a million years ago in high school during your very first art history class. You look at the painting and he looks at you, and when you finally turn toward him he captures your mouth in a warm, urgent, soft kiss. You can feel your eyes sparkling at him when he pulls away, and you don't say a word, you just smile and hold his hand as you walk through doorways and up and down stairs.

You come around a corner and there it is, probably the most famous statue in the world: the Venus de Milo. She takes your breath away, and then Marcus does, too, stealing a kiss when you least expect it. And you're torn completely in half, unsure if you would rather keep kissing him or just stare at the curves and planes of her body. So you try to do both; you kiss him and keep one eye on the Venus and you start to feel dizzy, like you've overloaded on sugar, but it's just the impossible circumstances that you've found yourself in.

And you break apart from him, and take his hand again, leading him into a corner that's a little more private. You back yourself against a wall and pull him to you by his tie, and you kiss him the way he deserves, with your full attention and precision. Minutes pass slowly, and you only come up for air because you're afraid you're going to faint. Your thigh is blazing hot where Marcus's hand has raked up under your skirt, and the only reason you don't fuck him right there is because of a security camera keeping watch on the alcove.

You tell him that you both should finish your tour and go back to your hotel, and he agrees. You try to keep your mind on the art, and you tell Marcus about how awestruck you were as a student when you learned about the way that sculptors could depict every curve and dimple of a woman's body through the wet drapery technique; the sensuality of the human form made only slightly more modest when viewed through a veil of fabric; the sheer awesome impossibility of marble carved to look like gauze.

You both get lost in the conversation, and you wander up a staircase and around a corner, and there it is: your absolute favorite piece of art, the piece that you have studied and memorized and dreamed about. And you've seen it before: you've been to the Louvre a handful of times, but this time there are no noisy footsteps echoing off the marble, no tourists trying to capture the glory of it with their tiny and unworthy cameras and phones when there are perfectly good books and postcards available in the gift shop... the Nike to end all Nikes, the Winged Victory of Samothrace. You are, quite simply, blown away.

And if it had been a normal weekend walking tour of the sacred Louvre, if you had been there with anyone else... you wouldn't have ended up wedged against the wall of the archway to her left, skirt hiked up as Marcus pounded into you, one of your bare legs hooked over his hip and your arms wrapped around his neck. If it had been any other day or any other time, you would have stopped him before he unzipped his fly and pulled his erection out; you would have had some remaining shred of propriety, of decency. But it wasn't a normal day and he wasn't a normal man, and you really weren't yourself.

You had gotten carried away by the late hour and the thrill of being allowed to wander the empty museum, and if you were being honest, you really wouldn't have wanted to stop it. You wanted to give in to the romance of the city and the priceless treasures on display and the heady conversations with Marcus. You wanted to be exactly where you were, with exactly who he was, doing exactly what you were doing and feeling exactly how you felt as he thrust into you and grunted your name like a chant while you traced the lines of the Nike with your lust-blown eyes.

You didn't make it to the Richlieu wing until a year later, on a sunny Saturday morning with your new husband Marcus.

--- Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

Roll call: please message me if you don't want to be on my "all fics" tag list!

@221bshrlocked @danniburgh @starlightmornings @honestly-shite @spacedilf @anaaaispunk @silverwolf319 @greeneyedblondie44 @maxwell–lord @nicolethered @the-queen-of-fools @driedgreentomatoes @juletheghoul @dihra-vesa @anxiousandboujee

[tanzaniiite]

ROAD TRIP • SEIJOH THIRD YEARS

requests: OPEN

warnings: cursing & stupid high school antics

word count: 2.2k

a/n: this idea has been on my noggin for so long omg, enjoy!

please reblog and reply, engagement is both fun & important ✨

[not edited]

this was fun, should i do more fics like this?

“Ugh, are we there yet?”

Oikawa whined looking out the window with a forlorn look as if he was in a music video. You glanced at Iwaizumi, who was at the wheel, snickering slightly as you saw his eye twitch in annoyance. The five of you decided to take a road trip, sort of like a last hurrah, for your last year of high school.

This originally started as a small trip that was planned on senior ditch day but Matsun and Makki wanted to do a road trip. And so, senior ditch day morphed into senior ditch weekend. Of course, none of your parents approved this, so you guys were in for an earful when you returned. But as Hanamaki stated, when you got a screaming voicemail from your guardian, “Live in the moment, worry about that later”. And despite that being terrible advice, you listened anyway.

The destination of your little road trip is Tokyo which was a five to six hour drive. Some might say that’s not too long but traveling with Oikawa it feels like an eternity. He was already complaining. That was mainly because he was upset that you got shotgun and he didn’t. Originally you planned on sitting in the back with the disaster duo but Hajime insisted you sit in the front with him. Something about you being the most tolerable. Iwaizumi was obviously the driver because he’s the most responsible out of you five. It’s weird to think you guys just planned this trip just a week prior.

“So what are we doing for senior ditch day?”

You asked setting your tray down and sitting in between Matsukawa and Hanamaki. Issei just scoffed lightly, “I dunno what you’re doing but I’m sleeping” He answered. Takahiro laughed in agreement. “Probably practicing” Tooru replied. You pouted at their lame responses, “Hajime please tell me you have better plans than these losers” You pleaded. Iwaizumi looked up from his notes, “Uh, I don’t know, I’m probably going to come to school” He shrugged ignoring your disgusted face.

“I know y’all are not serious. This is the last year we’re going to be together like this, we should do something memorable”

You declared crossing your arms over your chest glaring at your friends. “Ew, you sound like Oikawa, getting all sentimental and shit” Makki quipped popping a french fry in his mouth. You stuck your tongue out at him playfully. Oikawa hummed, “I mean they do have a point, let’s do something we’ll remember for years to come”. “Whatever, I guess I’m down” Matsukawa added rolling his eyes. The four of you looked at Iwaizumi, who mentally checked out of the conservation a while ago, waiting for his answer. “Count me out, my parents will kill me if I skipped school” He responded, causing the lot of you to groan. “Ugh, can you not be an upstanding student for like two seconds” You huffed leaning your head in your hand. Now the brunette looked up, “You guys know how my parents are, especially you Shittykawa” He stated, pointing his pencil at the setter. “Yeah yeah, we know how your parents are. Y/n’s parents are just as bad” Issei voiced.

You couldn’t help but internally groan, you remember how your guardians reacted when you brought the four boys to your house. “Don’t remind me. Senior Ditch Day is on a Friday, we barely do anything as is since it’s the end of the year” You said, “plus, you’re the only one of us that drives decently” You stated mustering up your best puppy dog eyes. Hajime looked at you before answering, “Fine, but if I get in trouble. You guys will be the ones talking to my parents”. And from there, the planning commenced.

Currently, you guys were only an hour out of Miyagi. Issei was already knocked out, Hanamaki was on his phone and Oikawa was sulking as per usual. “If you ask me if we’re there yet, one more time, I’ll have Makki push you out the car” He threatened his eyes never leaving the road. “Makki wouldn’t do that to me” Tooru claimed which caused ‘Hiro to snort. “Shut up, you know I will” He stated not even bothering to look up from his phone. Oikawa let out a dramatic gasp, “But we’re going 85 miles an hour on a highway!” He exclaimed. “Did I stutter?” Takahiro mumbled, still not paying any attention to his captain’s dramatics.

This was going to be a long four hours.

You woke up leaning against something super warm, you opened your eyes taking in your surroundings. You weren’t in the front anymore, from what you could see, it looked like Oikawa got his wish of riding shotgun. You sat up rubbing the sleep from your eyes, “Oh, good morning sleeping beauty” Oikawa teased. You were too sleepy and disoriented to come up with a witty comeback.

“Why.. why is Issei driving?”

That’s when you noticed Iwaizumi was the warm surface you were leaning against moments before. “I got tired of driving, we stopped at a gas station and switched places” Hajime explained noticing your confused face, “and you were sleeping so we moved you to the back”. You realized that not only were you leaning against Iwa but your legs were propped up on Makki’s lap. You nodded slightly, still tired despite waking up from a nap. “We spoil them rotten, don’t we?” ‘Hiro commented pinching your thigh causing you to whine slightly. “Shut up” You mumbled leaning into Iwaizumi’s side once again making him chuckle. Matsukawa looked at you through the rearview mirror,

“That’s right, Y/n gets all grumpy when they’re tired”

“Issei… focus on not crashing the car, not on me”

Oikawa let out a low whistle, “Woah, catty much?” He asked rhetorically laughing slightly. You rolled your eyes, “Whatever, how much farther?” You asked closing your eyes. Hajime glanced at his phone, “Two more hours” He replied. Tooru made a choked noise before turning around to face his childhood best friend. “Uh! They ask you if we’re there and get an answer, but when I ask, I get threatened?!” The brunette cried his eyebrows furrowing. The ace rolled his eyes, “Yeah, cause they’re not fucking annoying about it” He retorted. You pointed at Oikawa while laughing at his shocked face causing him to pout and crossed his arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Uh oh, I think it’s Oikawa’s turn for a nap” Makki joked. Matsun hummed in agreement, “Yup, Y/n gets grumpy and Oikawa gets bratty” He laughed.

“Ugh whatever, at least I don’t snore like a chainsaw”

“Says the man who can’t sleep in any other position besides fetal”

“Dude shut up! It’s comfortable!”

Iwaizumi sighed, already knowing this petty argument wouldn’t end anytime soon. He looked down at you, “Who are you messaging?” Hajime inquired, peering at your phone. “No one, just some first years in my DMs” You hummed noncommittally. “You still leading those poor kids on?” Hanamaki asked. Glancing at Makki you pursed your lips, “I’m not leading them on… I’m just entertaining the antics” You replied smiling innocently and batting your eyelashes. “Yo, remember when that one first year confessed to you in the middle of lunch?” Issei asked slowing at a red light. You sat up suddenly, “Oh my god yes! That was so embarrassing!” You exclaimed. “You were embarrassed? Imagine the kid when you rejected him” Iwaizumi countered raising an eyebrow. “The second-hand embarrassment was strong on that one” Takahiro agreed, “Y/n’s a heartbreaker,” He said shaking his head.

You gasped, “I’m not! I’m just not interested in people like three years younger than me” You explained defending yourself. “Well, your choices are limited, since all the people in our grade are scared of us for whatever reason” Tooru stated with his eyes closed and head leaning on the window, looking like he would clonk out soon. “Yeah cause y’all are intimidating as fuck” You claimed. Issei chuckled, “Mm, yeah we kinda are” He admitted. “If they really liked you, they wouldn’t be scared to confess” Hajime shrugged. You smiled widely, “Ok king! My fault” You laughed giving him a high five. “Wait but if we’re so intimidating how come girls are always throwing their panties at Oikawa” Hanamaki questioned.

“Cause he’s not the intimidating one, it’s mainly Iwa and Matsun”

“Matsun is not intimidating, he looks out of it half of the time”

“Not out of it, more like zooted”

You quipped, laughing when Issei playfully glared at you through the rearview mirror. “Bro, remember when Kindaichi found out we were going on this trip and asked to come?” Takahiro laughed. “Stop! Y’all are so mean to him” You said kicking Makki slightly with your foot. Matsukawa snorted, “No cause what did he expect us to say, “Sure buddy you can come!” Like dude nooo,” He mocked laughing loudly. You bit your lip in an effort to not laugh, “Stop this Kindaichi slander at once” You demanded holding back your own giggles. “Okay Y/n, are you saying that you would’ve said yes if he asked you?” The wing spiker inquired giving you a look. “Well.. no—” You started. “Exactly! You’re just as bad as us” Issei interjected.

“No, I am not! You two literally looked at each other and busted out laughing, you didn’t even answer the poor boy”

“Sorry… it was funny”

“That shit was hilarious”

Hajime cleared his throat, “Is Trashykawa sleeping? Haven’t heard him talk in a while” He asked drawing shapes into your shoulder absentmindedly. Matsun glanced at his friend who was definitely passed out against the window. “Yeah, he’s gone” The middle blocker responded.

“Should we draw on his face?”

…

“Oh absolutely”

The car was fairly silent now, you guys were nearing the end of your road trip and it was later in the day. The sky was littered with reds and oranges as the sun started its daily routine. The sunset was bold, radiant, and just plain mesmerizing, you couldn’t help but stare in awe. You sighed inwardly, “I’m gonna miss you guys” You uttered looking out the window. Your four guy friends looked at each other before looking at you. Iwaizumi spoke up first, “What’s there to miss? We’re not going anywhere” He asked. “I know that but who knows when the next time we’ll do something like this?” You whispered refusing to look at them because you knew you would start crying if you did. Hanamaki nudged your foot with his hand, “Y/n stop being such a baby, we’ll still see each other—” He started before you interrupted.

“That’s not the point stupid. We’re all going our own separate ways. Iwaizumi’s going to school in America, Oikawa’s going to fucking Argentina, and we’re all going to different colleges. This sucks ass, I finally have a group of friends I love and now I have to leave them—”

“Hey, what did we just say? We’re not going anywhere. So what if we’re going down different paths? Holidays exist Y/n, you think Iwaizumi and Oikawa are gonna stay in America and Argentina all year round? Plus me and Makki’s colleges are not that far from yours, I could probably walk if I wanted to. Now stop sulking, you’re bringing down the mood”

Issei stated his eyes never once drifting from the road. You sniffed and leaned into Hajime’s side more, “Jeez, sorry” You mumbled playing with your fingers. If the car wasn’t quiet before, it sure was now. No one knew what to say, it seemed too early to make a joke about it and it was a conversation none of you were ready to have. But despite not being ready, Oikawa still voiced his opinion nevertheless,

“Well would you look at that, Y/n really does love us. And I thought you hated me”

You snorted, “I do hate you” You teased making a face at him which he gladly returned. But his demeanor suddenly became serious,

“Adding on to what Mattsun said, we’re not leaving forever Y/n. Graduation is like three months away, we still have time to hang out plus we have the summer so there’s that. I know you love us and can’t possibly live without us but I think you’ll manage”

You blinked in response to Oikawa’s little spiel, “You are so corny” You huffed looking down so he wouldn’t notice the small tears in your eyes.

“Ah! So when I do it it’s corny, what about that whole pitch Matsun did?!”

“Hey, I wasn’t corny. I was being real”

“Please, as if, you were just being mean”

“It’s called tough love, it isn’t made for softies”

Watching the two of them go back and forth once again was entertaining. And when Makki and Iwaizumi joined in, it was just one hundred times better. But seeing your best friends interact with one another just made you realize how much you love them. And although this may be your guy’s last high school adventure, it wasn’t going to your last endeavor with this crazy bunch. You smiled slightly to yourself,

“Man, I really do love you guys”

tanzaniiite © 2021 — all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or copy. do not plagiarize. thank you.

[talas-starlight]

Lover - Percy Jackson x Fem!reader

SUMMARY: You’ve crushed on Percy for years, him on the other hand? It’s more of a recent development. That doesn’t mean he likes you any less.

(Older Percy & reader - they're like 21) ALSO idk perfectly what happens in trials of apollo so let’s just ✨ignore that ✨ & this isn’t sexual despite what the title may suggest

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

A/N: hi friends this is for @fromthewatertribe​ ‘s 1k follower event!! Im sure most of you have but if not definitely check out their work!! Its soooo good I promises and ugh their Leo fic?! *chefs kiss* anyway idk if this is any good oop I tried

PROMPTS USED: 9 & 11. (they’re bolded)

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of ptsd & anxiety, kissing stuff lol ish eh idk, mentions of percabeth breakup?? Does that count?

MASTERLIST: here!

An obnoxiously red and orange light filters into the motel room, even with the old and tattered curtains closed, the motels’ sign conquers its way through the fabric. Sighing you flop yourself on the faded, probably twenty-year-old bed. Nose scrunching as some dust raises into the air, consequently letting out a sneeze.

“Bless you.”

“Did you just bless yourself?”

You winced at the reminder someone else was in the room, exhausted after the two-day travel to a motel room in the middle of whoop. “Yeah…”

“You really are something, aren’t you?” At the calm amusement evident in his tone, your heart rate began to slow down. He didn’t think you were crazy.

You let out a breathy laugh. Wow, I wonder how those stains got on the ceiling? Lava monster perhaps? Are those even a thing? Probably.

“Yeah… well, someone has to Jackson.” You glance towards him, he’s sitting at the small, poor excuse of a dining table. Heart rate picking up again as he gives you a small smile, already having his eyes on you this entire time.

“If I don’t, who will?” you continue.

“Touché. In that case, I’ll do the blessing from now on; you deserve a break.” Shooting you a wink. Instantly feeling flustered at his action, you fight the urge to cover your face with your hands.

Oh, Percy, if only you knew you’ve already been blessing me for the past six years.

“Even say…. If we’re in a battle?” you muse.

He gets up from the table and walks towards you. Once he reaches your side of the queen bed, he kneels, grabbing the hand closest to him, while putting his other on top of his heart. “Oh, y/n l/n, even with my dying breath.”

With that, you burst into a fit of laughter. This boy and his sarcasm.

You play along. “Hmmm what a great tale that will be. The one and only, Perseus Jackson, spending his final breath on sweet old y/n l/n. How dare you burden me with such a legacy to live up to! They’ll think I’m your lover, you know. Demigods all around the world will come searching for me, just to gawk at the beauty that stole your heart.”

At this point, Percy has fallen from his kneeling position, completely lying on the ground, overcome with laughter.

“This isn’t funny, Percy! How am I supposed to live with the guilt of knowing I don’t live up to their expectations?! I’m hardly a warrior either, oh the disappointment.”

Gasping for breath, he manages to find his words, “Don’t stress it y/n, you’re plenty beautiful. I just know they’ll all be stunned by your beauty. Don’t sell yourself short… trust me, once they see you, they’ll be envious that my lover was so enraptured by me that you’ll never be able to love again.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. Would that be so bad?

Gasping for breath, eventually, both of your laughs die down, leaving you both breathing heavily. “C’mon Percy, let’s get some sleep. Its going to be a long week of scouting for demigods if we’re tired.”

As Percy nods, silently getting up to go to the bathroom to change, but he can’t help but think to himself that he wouldn’t mind if he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with you. No matter how long.

It had been three days since you and Percy arrived in the town you continuously fail to remember the name of. It wasn’t the only thing you were failing at doing either, because it seemed that for some unknown reason, the school that was supposed to arrive here for their camping trip still hadn’t shown up.

“We should send an Iris message to camp. It doesn’t look like they’re showing up any time soon, and by the looks of things, we’re going to need to have them send someone for more supplies.”

Percy sighed, looking out the window. Was this the opportunity he was looking for? Maybe… he knew he’d be a stupid fool to pass it up. Swept up in his new thoughts, he never replied. “Percy?”

Without even looking at you, he nodded, turning to go to the bathroom, “Yeah sure, I’ll go into the bathroom and make the call.”

Humming in acknowledgement as he left the room, you couldn’t help but stare at the spot he was previously standing in from your position on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t look too good.

For such a great hero, you wondered if this quest was doing him any good. After the first day of scouting the campsite, it was obvious he was already antsy to get home. It seemed no matter how light you tried to keep the atmosphere; it was like something was weighing on his mind. Mostly when you were both in the motel room together, you supposed it was because he barely went on quests nowadays. Understandably so, after all, who could blame him for wanting a break and spend time with his family? This made you feel immensely guilty since you could never give him words of truly understanding what he’s gone through. You’d arrived at camp a few days before him, yet over the years you were never sent onto a major quest. It upset you greatly at first, but you grew to appreciate your time at camp.

Before your mind could delve further into its guilt and self-pity, Percy re-entered the room, sitting next to you with a huff. “It’s all good. They’re going to send Leo with some extra supplies, and he’ll help us for the rest of this quest.”

Accidentally getting swept up in how pretty his eyes were, you tensed up, realising he was staring at you expectantly. Quickly nodding and clearing your throat you looked down to your lap, “ahh, okay that sounds good. I guess we’ll have time to sightsee or something…”

Sightsee? Really y/n? There’s nothing in this stupid town!

An awkward silence filled the room. Due to your previous thoughts, you were unsure how to proceed. This was the first time you were alone with him and had nothing else better to do.

Percy on the other hand, found that the obvious swooning look in your eyes was his green light. “Uhhh actually y/n?”

Oh, please don’t ask me why I basically just drooled all over you for NO FUCKING REASON. Snapping your head back up to look at him, you desperately tried to ignore the pounding in your chest that managed to find its way into your ears, “yeah?”

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

Holy shit he knows, doesn’t he? He knows I’ve liked him this entire time, and he’s going to reject me even though I never even said anything!

“I uhm… look I know we’re kind of on a small quest and all but technically we ARE waiting for Leo and the school to arrive before we continue… and you know we kind of have like at least a day or two until then so I was just wondering…”

“Yeah, Percy? You can just say it, you know; I really don’t mind.” I do mind, but please get this over with before I cry. With your heart rate increasing at an alarming rate and face heating up so much, you wanted Zeus to blast you right then and there.

Percy felt like he was about to puke, he’d never felt this nervous before. Yeah, he had his moments growing up with Annabeth, after all, she was his first girlfriend, but this was different. He wanted this to be different. Sure, he never regretted their relationship, and yes, he knew he’d always remember everything they went through- what he went through but… he wanted a clean slate. He desperately just wanted nothing more than to know that there was at least one person in his life that wasn’t constantly fighting for their lives—someone who didn’t have to live with as much trauma as him.

“W- would you maybe... Gods, do you want to have dinner tomorrow night? Maybe at the diner further into the town?”

HOLY FUCK.

He was interested and honestly, you were over the moon. Breathing out the breath you were holding in, you fail to hide the smile on your face, “yeah, I’d like that.”

His face instantly broke out into a wide smile matching yours. “Wait really?”

Unable to hold back a small giggle, you nodded, “yeah, Percy.”

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you admire the blue dress you found in a charity shop this morning while Percy was sleeping. I can’t believe this is happening.

If you had old even more awkward 15-year-old y/n that you were about to go on a date with the boy you admired from your table during meals (when he was there), you would’ve laughed. Mainly because at that point, he didn’t even know you existed, only having your first conversation during the battle of Manhattan when you were helping Will.

Okay… lets do this.

Walking out of the bathroom, Percy is already sitting on the bed in his usual t-shirt, jeans and converse waiting for you.

“Woah… You look uh-” Never finishing his statement, worry bubbled in your chest.

“Oh, uhm… I- I can change if you’d like?

Jumping up from his place on the bed, his head shook quickly. “NO! N-no don’t do that.”

“Ah uhm… okay? Sorry, it’s just I saw it in a store earlier and uhm… it looked nice, and I just thought that maybe it’d be cool to maybe put in a bit more effort? I mean… not that you don’t look good or anything! I love what you wear, you always look nice! but I don’t know… I don’t get to look nice much and… I just wanted it to be kinda special since we don’t get to… well our lives don’t really grant us these opportunities very often. Or at least for me anyway…”

“Hey, no, it’s okay! I totally get it… you look beautiful.” After hearing your small confession and thought to prepare for your date, his heart felt like it was melting. How could someone be so thoughtful when all he was doing was taking you to a rundown diner who probably only served mediocre burgers?

A small wave of guilt washed through him. Feeling like he would never be able to truly sweep you off your feet or give you that sweet, tooth-rotting love and affection, every day, just like you deserved. After everything, he knew he could try his best but even then, he’d never be able to hide the anxiety or PTSD he had acquired over the years.

You looked up to him with a smirk. “Glad to hear it, lover.”

Cheeks heating up at your comment, he laughed trying to play it off as cool as possible. Taking a step closer to you and flattening his shirt as if it would wipe away its wrinkles, he held out his arm. “Shall we, lover?”

Matching his level of fake sophistication, you linked your arm with his, “with pleasure.”

And with that, you both walked out of the motel, with hopeful spirits. To any onlooker, you both looked like normal young adults.  

“Where the fuck are you?!” Percy’s voice boomed from his end of the phone, supposedly made without any monster risks.  

You winced, slowly and cautiously walking your way out of the forest. The once clean dress was now covered in dirt and had few tears. It went perfectly with your dishevelled, twig and leaf infested hair.

“Space doesn’t really exist, so I’m nowhere. Life is built on social constructs and, since there’s no way to know if we’re really alive or if it’s just an illusion, I can’t be anywhere.”

“Y/n.”

Okay, he was concerned, and you couldn’t blame him. After all, how did you expect him to react after getting separated from you as you were chased into the woods by an Empousai after dinner?

Romance at its finest.  

“Yeah, sorry, I got caught up, but I’ll be there soon.”

Ending the call, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as you replayed the events that just occurred in your head. The date was amazing. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was still sweet. Which led you both to go on one of those cliché night walks. That was nice too, until two Empousai came out of the forest and decided to attack you both.

Percy being…. Well Percy, he swiftly got out riptide and didn’t hesitate to defend the two of you. You, on the other hand, were completely caught off guard only just noticing as one of them turned their focus on you while Percy was distracted.

And what did you do like the perfectly trained demigod you were?

You ran like a headless chicken into the forest.

After a few minutes of running, they tackled you into the ground. Trying and failing failed to shove them off, you suddenly remembered the dagger you strapped to your thigh under your dress and stabbed them.

Clearly not your proudest moments.

Finally making it back to the room, you unlocked the door and let out a huff of relief. “Well… that date didn’t go as expected.”

Percy, took in your current state staring at you with wide eyes… but he didn’t say anything. Is he angry at me? Fuck now he’s going to call off whatever this is, all because I’m an incompetent idiot! I knew I should have tried harder in the sparring activities at camp.

Feeling highly intimidated under his intense stare, you began to play with the hem of your dress, voice going quiet. “Look I uh- I know it probably wasn’t the date you were hoping for but I uhm-“

Before you could even finish your poor excuses, your words are soon lost entirely. Percy stalked towards you with a determined look on his face. Reaching you, he firmly placed his hands on either side of your face, smashing his lips onto yours.

You let out a small, muffled squeak of surprise as your eyebrows shot up into Olympus. Yet unlike your fighting skills, this was something you managed to adapt to at a faster pace.

Eyes fluttering closed, you fisted his shirt, pulling him closer.

Please don’t let this be a dream.

Because Gods forbid if this your one chance, you weren’t letting this moment end that easily.  

Moving your lips against his, the urgency he came onto you with slowly began to dissipate, feeling his soft, but slightly chapped lips move against yours. Deepening the kiss, you let go of his shirt, gliding your hands up his tense torso and along his strong arms, eventually placing your hands on his wrists that were on either side of your face. Applying a small amount of pressure to the inside of his wrists with your thumbs, his mind began to drift into a calming haze as you softly stroked them. It was almost as if you were able to brush away the worry that bubbled in him when he got back to the room, only to find you weren’t there. Yet here you were… safe.

It was intoxicating and calming having him so close to you, his entire being overcoming your senses to a point where you fought the urge to let out a small whimper when he pulled away.

Resting his forehead against yours, chest rising and falling heavily flushed against you; he continued to hold you in his warm embrace. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” He whispers, breath fanning against your face.

Because as much as Percy was afraid he’d let you down, he knew no matter what you were worth every single risk.

“…but I’m going to have to teach you a few things when we get back to camp. We can’t have my lover running away in battle all the time, how will I know if you sneeze?”

Letting out a snort, you playfully hit his chest. “Anything for you, lover.”

A soft smile graces his face as he looks at you adoringly as the word takes on a whole new meaning… because you were right. He’d do anything.

A/N: whelp! i hope you all liked it :)) its not perfect but oh well? 

also i dont have a percy jackson taglist but i gotta tag the holy grail of fic writers for this fandon eep @cabinofimagines​   🙈 🙈

Divider credit: @biskit-rising​

[tinymilkshakecheesecake]

Blind Date - Cale Makar

This was partially inspired for Devon’s love of complimenting Cale on social media

Word Count - 1.6k

Cale knew he was running late.  The latest mindset book he was reading caught his attention and he didn’t realize it was time to leave until he was already going to be late.  He has no idea why he agreed to this.  “Devon wants me to go out more, but this is getting ridiculous,” he thinks.  Devon and his wife have a neighbor who also apparently needs to get out more and the two of them thought Cale and this mystery person will be attached at the hip afterwards and convinced or bullied (he’s not sure which) Cale into this.  He changes out of joggers, putting on better pants as he receives another text from Devon.  Devon has been repeatedly reminding Cale of the “date” they had arranged to make sure he doesn’t bail.  He puts on his shoes before grabbing his keys and wallet before running out the door, pausing only briefly to check the door.

He heads out of the elevator and pulls up the directions on his phone.  They set them up in a diner that was a short walking distance away from his building.  Not bothering to drive, he leaves the building, heading in the general direction of the diner.  Devon thinks he’ll be safe with the baseball game having already started and the quiet nature of the diner, but Cale isn’t completely convinced.  Devon texts him again, probably reminding him of his “date” to make sure he doesn’t leave the poor girl stranded.  He sees the diner and stops in front of it sighing before running a hand through his hair, a poor attempt to fix the messy strands.  “I really should have taken more time to get ready,” he thinks as nervous energy fills his stomach, unusual for him.  He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself before entering.

---

KJ looks up as the door opens.  A boy approximately her age walks in, waiting patiently for the hostess to greet him.  Sighing, she drops her gaze back to her phone in hopes Kerry or even Devon texts her back with any updates on the guy.  He was ten minutes late at this point and Kerry was getting slower in her responses to her messages.  Glancing back up she sees the hostess leading the guy to her table.  She places her phone away as he approaches, giving him a shot even if he was ten minutes late at this point, noting his red cheeks.

As he pulls out the chair he begins to speak, “Hi.  I’m Cale.  I am so sorry I’m late.  I got caught up in a book and lost track of time.”

“Oh.  It’s okay.  It happens.  I’m KJ by the way.  What book?” KJ asks, surprising herself with her response.

His eyes widen, “Oh, um it's called, Zen Putting, by Bob Rotella. It helps with mindfulness and focusing on the process rather than the result.”

“Do you golf much?” She asks.

“Mainly in the summer, not much now.  Work picks up this time of year but the concepts talked about are applicable to other things.”

“That’s cool.  Have you read a lot of books on mindfulness?”

“Ya.  Actually my dad is really big into mindset and he introduced it to me when I was fourteen.  It helped me a lot and is something I still work on.”  She watches the way he speaks, sometimes almost stumbling over his words but shows interest in it.  They continue talking about anything that comes to mind until his voice begins to show signs of breaking as the waitress appears.

---

Cale looks up as the waitress approaches.  Quickly glancing at the menu, he finds something that is loosely diet approved and would work.  As KJ orders, he finds himself looking her over.  He notices the way she responds to the waitress, eyes kind as she talks to the waitress.  Once they’re done, they resume talking.

“What made you come to Denver?” He asks.

“Oh, they had a good collections program and was interested in that,” she replies.

“Wait really, like museum stuff?”

“Sometimes.  It depends on where because a lot of universities might not have museums but will have collections from other things.”

“That's cool,” he replies.  Their food comes and they continue to talk throughout their meal.  They have a relaxed discussion and Cale really enjoys himself as he notices himself relaxing more throughout the conversation.  Cale excuses himself to use the bathroom.

---

KJ watches the waitress come while Cale, dropping off the check.  She handed her her credit card opting to cover the bill.  Smiling, the waitress takes the card and leaves.  Cale returns as the waitress drops off the card

“Hey, I was going to cover that,” he says once the waitress leaves.

“Too bad,” KJ replies with a smirk, “you can get the next one.”

“Oh, I see how it is.  You expect to see me again?” he replies.  He folds his lips to bite back a smirk but fails.  “Do you want to walk around the park for a bit?”

“Sure,” KJ replies as she grabs her phone before standing, letting Cale take the lead, following him out of the restaurant.  Following him out she reflects on the past hour and a half talking to Cale.  She enjoyed herself and the conversation never seemed to get dull.  She also noticed that he got more relaxed with hints of a canadian accent sneaking out but his cheeks always remained pink.  

The sidewalk widens and Cale pauses for a second to let KJ catch up.  They resume talking.  As before, the conversation flowed and their strides match perfectly.  KJ feels relaxed as they walk by an avs poster featuring Cale.  

---

Cale tenses up when he sees the poster, not expecting there to be posters up of him yet.  

“Did you come this way to see your face,” she jokes.

Cale turns even more red than usual.  “Oh god,” he mumbles.  “I forget how soon posters will go up sometimes and didn’t realize it was that time yet.  It does get annoying to see your face everywhere in case you’re wondering,” he relies with a soft smile.

“I bet,” KJ replies, “I was on the performing arts council in high school and had my face on a banner outside the school for months to help fundraise.  It was horrible.”

Laughing, Cale leads the way to a secluded overlook within the park he frequently visits.  He checks in with himself and notices how comfortable he feels.  Maybe Devon was right, but he doesn’t need to tell him that.  Walking up to the overlook, Cale notices the sky beginning to turn colors.  They walk up to the fence and Cale decides to take a half step closer to KJ, moving into her personal space.  Looking up, She catches his eye and moves closer, allowing him to tuck her into his side as they watch the sunset.  Cale feels himself relax more, allowing himself to enjoy the contact and the view as the sun sets.  

When the sun dips below the horizon, Cale pulls back as he bites back a yawn.  He has training camp again tomorrow and knows he should call it a night soon.  “Hey, where’d you park,” he asks, knowing Devon lived a fair distance away.

“Oh, I took the train,” She replies.

“Oh, I can drive you home if you want,” he offers.

“I can take the train.  It's actually probably easier, especially because you’re tired.”

Cale blushes, “Here, let me atleast walk you to the station.  Is union station the one you’re using?”

“Ya, that's probably easiest.”

“You’ll text me when you get home right?”

“Um, if I get your number I will,” she chimes back at him, causing him to pull out his phone.

“Oh shit. Um, here,” he says as they exchange phones, Cale fighting back another blush.

They return their phones and head back, this time taking the longer path.  They walk in a comfortable silence through the mostly quiet park, passing a few dog owners and couples along the way and exchanging small smiles as they pass.  Once they return back to the buildings, their pace picks up as they return to the normal chaos of the city.  

---

They make their way to the station both lost in thought.  They walk side by side, each in their personal space, but neither one is uncomfortable with that.  They slow down once the station’s sign becomes visible, wanting to savor their last few minutes together.  

They reach the entrance and Cale turns to face KJ, opting to pull her into a hug.  “Text me when you get home, yeah?” he murmurs into her ear.  

His deep voice causes her to shiver slightly.  She nods, inhaling his scent for the first time before pulling away.  They say their goodbyes for the time being.  Cale watches her walk into the station.  He waits a few seconds before heading to his building. He decides to take the stairs, climbing up the flights to pass the time.  He gets to his floor, checking his phone for any missed messages from KJ.  Devon texts him again, probably annoyed at the lack of response.  Ignoring that, he gets ready for bed, replacing his contacts with glasses and packs what he’ll need for tomorrow to kill time. He hears his phone chime and he races across the room to get it, seeing a text message appear. Unlocking his phone, he sees a message from KJ.

Kj: home [insert picture of the inside of a door]

Cale: ty. Let’s meet up again soon. I’ll cover dinner this time

Kj: 👍

Cale smiles as he heads to his bedroom, turning off lights along the way before crawling into bed and placing his glasses on the nightstand and falling asleep.

[yuthoe]

Time (MONSTA X: Chae Hyungwon)

a few things:

1. yes i'm a monbebe now too and i fully blame fatal love era hyungwon for it. he has my multistan ass whipped

2. THIS IS THE LONGEST FIC I'VE EVER WRITTEN FOR THIS BLOG HOLY GAWD

3. i'm back to going to the office everyday for work, so we're back to infrequent posting lmao

ok so. i've wanted to write a vampire fic for so long now (the previous/first one i wrote was back in 1st year high school and despite my massive vampire kink i didn't attempt to make any other vamp related stories haha), and when i saw hyungwon in that red suit with the long hair and the eyebags and the turtleneck i just kinda went feral. this thing took me like, almost a month to write; it's been hard to cook up writing brain juice between work and trying to be healthy and keeping up with the pan de manila.

i fully intended for this to be like, sexy suggestive and leading to something more for the ending, but like. it turned out soft. somehow. the premise was perfect, but somehow my brain was like, "no make it soft" and we have whatever this is.

this is unedited bc i wrote it half-asleep and wanted to get it out there

PAIRING: Chae Hyungwon x reader. GENRE: vampire!AU, some fluff, modern fantasy. WARNINGS: vampire-typical injuries—biting, blood—some very mild sexual themes. WORD COUNT: 3,589 (holy shit).

---

The entryway is lit by the two dim overhead lights, casting an orange tint to the concrete floor. You take care to slip your shoes on quietly, not wanting to accidentally wake the slumbering man in the other room; he just got home a few hours ago and you didn’t want to cut his sleep short, remembering how he slowly slipped under the covers with you, winding an arm around your midsection and releasing a heavy breath before passing out.

So with a glance at your watch—the one he got you for your birthday a few years back, the one you’ve worn almost everywhere since—you grab your work bag and try to slip off the chain lock with as little sound as possible.

“Are you leaving for work?”

You flinch at his voice, huskier now with remnants of sleep. Hyungwon has a thing about soundlessly walking into places and surprising you by suddenly speaking. Your face scrunches at your failed attempt to slip out unnoticed, and a loud sigh escapes your lips as you turn to face him.

“How long have you been awake?” you ask, stepping right to the elevated wooden floor that separates the entryway to the living area. Hyungwon is wearing a white shirt that completely swallows his slender frame and loose pajama pants. You cup his soft cheek, drag your hand to his neck, his shoulder, down his arm, until you’re intertwining your fingers.

“Pretty much since you left the bed,” he mumbles, taking his other hand and wrapping it around you, pulling you to his chest. You feel him rest his face on the top of your head and breathe in your scent.

“Aw,” you reply quietly, smoothing a hand down his back. “And I thought I was being super quiet this time.”

There’s comfortable silence as Hyungwon basks in your warmth and you can swear he’s close to falling asleep where he stands. You think there’s no other place you’d want to be right now, but unfortunately, you need to work and he needs to sleep.

You let go of the strap on your bag and tap his side gently. “I have to go,” you murmur.

Hyungwon groans, lowers his head and tilts it to the side to whisper directly into your ear. “Do you really have to? Because there’s something more important you need to do here.” He noses at your temple, his cold breath fanning against your ear.

“Oh? And what is that?” It’s too early in the day for goosebumps, and the faster you force him back to bed, the better your chances of resisting the sweet pull of his voice.

“Mmm…,” he groans again, and you feel his smile as he kisses your ear. “Sleep.”

You snort, pulling away with a soft smile, free hand coming to cup his face. You pass your thumb over his cheekbone and watch as he melts at your touch, dark bangs falling over his closed eyes. “I’ll be home early today, love,” you say, pressing a soft kiss to his plump lips.

Hyungwon’s eyes open unhurried, and he leans down to return the peck, lips moving slow against yours like honey. “Hurry back,” he mumbles against your lips.

***

A quiet sigh leaves his lips as Hyungwon toes off his shoes, leaving them at their designated space at the entrance. He hangs his bag and coat on the hooks before silently walking through the apartment to the bathroom, eager to scrub himself clean of the aggravating scents and grime of the club.

Hyungwon loves his job, he does. The people he interacts with there, though? Still up for debate.

The hot, almost scalding water seeps into his skin, warming him up from the outside. He’s used to the cold, he himself being below the normal human temperature for nearly a century now. The droplets sting a little, but it’s the pain that grounds Hyungwon to reality, a sort of proof of life in his years of floating along the endless river of time, never knowing when and where his journey would end.

There’s another pain, a burning in his throat, that reminds him well of his immortality. It assaults him every few days, and over the years has dulled from hurting so bad he nearly claws out his neck, to just being a pain in the ass that makes him cough if he doesn’t slake the thirst.

Hyungwon’s body cools rapidly when he shuts off the water, the soft April chill helping it along so that he’s mostly dry when he grabs his towel.

The bedroom is silent when he slips in, quickly dressing in the huge shirt and loose pants from yesterday, before he ducks out again to make a beeline to the kitchen, folding his tall frame into a crouch as he opens the refrigerator. There’s a space just for his blood bags in the far corner of the fridge, that he immediately scans and finds empty. Hyungwon groans and slaps a hand over his face.

Of course he forgets to stop by the blood bank tonight. He vaguely remembers taking the last bag four days ago and making a mental note to call Kihyun for his refills, but there must have been something that distracted him at the time because at present, he can’t recall contacting Kihyun about it at all, despite exchanging messages regularly.

He stands to his full height as he closes the door, leans his head against it as he mulls over his forgetfulness that never went away in all his years of living. And before he slips back into your bedroom and into the sweet realm of sleep, he rummages in his bag for his phone, texts his friend, gets a short scolding about his poor memory, and then sets a date to pick up his food.

Hyungwon quietly pads back to the bedroom and closes the door soundlessly, careful not to wake you. He slides in next to you, pulling the comforter snug against him as he rests on his elbows. He takes a few seconds to gaze at your sleeping figure, something he does every night. The random thought of coming off as creepy on the off chance you wake up runs through his head, but at the same time he thinks he wouldn’t mind if you catch him watching you sleep.

You know Hyungwon loves you, and he’s told you before that you’re one of his anchors to his hold on humanity. Never once in your two-year relationship did you take his vulnerability for granted, and he’s (quite literally) eternally grateful for your kindness and love.

He settles in on his side, and his shuffling has got you adjusting to his shape under the covers. Hyungwon feels you turn to face him and reach for his arm. You groan small, pull at his slender limb to wrap it around you, and he just lets you move him the way you want, an amused smile on his face. His other arm slides beneath your neck, and you nuzzle closer to him, breathing deep when you’re finally satisfied. He counts five seconds before your breaths even out in slumber.

Hyungwon presses a kiss to the crown of your head and inhales your scent, relaxed now and ready to follow you into sleep.

***

His alarm wakes him at noon, the shrill tone making him jerk and tighten his arm around the warm body in front of him, brows scrunching as he groans softly. Hyungwon stretches an arm towards the nightstand and turns off the alarm with an expert swipe of a finger. He buries his nose into your hair, not wanting to enter the land of the living yet. You respond with a hum, shifting and turning so your back is pressed against his chest.

You both try to doze off again before Hyungwon realizes two things:

One—It’s a Friday.

Two—You’re still in his arms.

“Love,” he mumbles against your hair.

You reply around five seconds later, with a simple grunt.

Hyungwon snorts a laugh, eyes still closed, but mind slowly waking with every passing second. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Another grunt from you, this time louder and longer. You shuffle under the sheets to turn to him again, eyes persistently closed and brows knit slightly. “Took the day off,” you mumble and slither your arm under his, scooting closer to bury your face in his neck. “Wanted to spend some time with you.”

At this Hyungwon smiles, rests his cheek on your head. “So we have until tomorrow night to do whatever then.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before your head shoots up. The movement startles Hyungwon and makes his eyes pop open. Bleary eyes meet, yours equal parts confused and suspicious. “What do you mean? You took the night off, too? But it’s Friday—the club’s gonna be packed.”

He levels you with a casual shrug. “Yeah,” he says, sliding his hand up your arm that’s around him, and stopping at your neck. His large hand completely covers your neck, long fingers splaying onto your cheek and winding into your hair. “I wanted to spend time with you, too.” He clears his throat. “I’ve missed you.” Hyungwon can feel the steady pulse under your skin and he clears his throat again.

You smile, lean down to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

And another one.

And another.

And you would have rained more kisses on him had he not started coughing and turned his head away. The ache in Hyungwon’s throat wasn’t that bad when he was asleep, but now that he’s awake, it’s irritating to the point of annoyance. He knows the thirst is his fault, but damn, would it kill him if he could have a peaceful morning (noon) with you before his body complains about being hungry?

He feels a hand smoothing down his back as the coughing goes down. He takes shaky breaths as he sits up and leans on the headboard. After a big exhale from him, you say, “Are you okay?”

Hyungwon looks at you and smiles tightly. “I’m fine. Just a bit hungry.” He sits up, only to scoot closer to you and wind an arm around your back. He rests his forehead on your shoulder as he talks, voice low and scratchy. “Ran out of my supply and I forgot to call Kihyun about it, and it’s been a few days since I had a drink. And it’ll be a couple more days before I can stop by the blood bank for my refills.” A cough.

Your arms are around his wiry frame, fingers running up and down his spine and making him drowsy. He’s still tired and sleepy, but the thirst is keeping him awake.

“Do you want a drink?” you ask quietly. “From me?”

Hyungwon stills, a shiver running down his spine. It’s not all the time he gets to drink from you; in fact, he makes it a point to not do it because he doesn’t want to scare you off. You’ve been living together for six months, known each other for years before that, but he still worries, silently waiting for the day you decide that being with a vampire isn’t worth it after all.

“No, it’s fine,” he says. “I’m fine.” He pushes down the cough building in his throat.

You card your fingers through his long hair. “I know you try not to, but I’m okay with it. You sound like you’re really hurting.” You rest your head against his. “We’ve done it before, and it didn’t really hurt. And I trust you, Hyungwon.”

Hyungwon is tired. Is sleepy. The thirst isn’t all that bad, but the coughing is aggravating his already dry throat. He hasn’t gotten a sip of blood in five days and nothing else could quench this particular thirst quite as well.

A small cough. “Are you sure?”

Your head is still resting on his and he feels you nod. “Yeah. Besides, I…” You clear your throat before speaking. “I like it when you drink from me.”

The vampire freezes, not quite knowing what to do with this newly revealed information. He’s not sure if what he feels right now is mild lust or genuine surprise. In the (very) rare times he drinks from you he thought he saw a twinkle of anticipation in your eyes, like you’ve been craving it, too. He thinks maybe his view of himself is clouding whatever opinion you have of him, bad and good alike.

Hyungwon’s lips purse, trying to keep himself from laughing because he can tell you’re serious about this, just as worried about him as you are excited about the prospect of being bitten; it’s still a bit unbelievable. He finally raises his head and looks square at you.

“You’re really okay with this?” he asks again. “You really want me to drink from you?” He crosses his legs under the blankets and pulls you with the arm still around your back.

Sometimes you forget Hyungwon is so strong—he doesn’t make his strength known to you, unless you both need it a little rough in bed. Now, he practically lifts you onto his lap, emboldened by your declaration. You straddle him, sitting snugly with both his arms around you; your hands naturally find themselves on his broad shoulders.

“Mhm,” you simply say, nodding your head. Adrenaline is running through your veins, and you’re sure Hyungwon can clearly hear how loud and fast your heart is beating right now.

It also seems like he can read your mind because he takes one of his hands and rests it softly against your chest, right over your heart.

You see him swallow. “Your heart is beating so fast,” he says, dragging his hand up to your neck, fingers soft on your skin, and you shiver. “Your pulse is racing.” Hyungwon is looking at you like you’re a meal he can’t wait to devour. “You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you say, even though you don’t really know if what you’re feeling is excitement or embarrassment or lust of fear. You can’t recall any of the previous times he fed from you being this tense—it was always out of desperation and pain that he reached out to you for this, and despite this moment being along the same lines, it’s… very different.

The loose collar of your sweater—one of his you pilfered long ago—is pulled to the side, and you shiver again as his fingertip brushes against your skin. Goosebumps raise on your arms as Hyungwon trails that single finger over your collarbone, up your neck again, to cup your chin and pull you in for a kiss.

His lips are gentle, but you can feel he’s holding back, trying to take it slow in case you change your mind. When you respond and bite his lip, he growls and pulls you by the back of the head to kiss you deeper. The arm around your back tightens, and you feel his fingers tangle in your hair as he angles your head the way he wants.

Tiny moans spill from your lips as Hyungwon’s tongue explores your mouth. When he pulls away, your sight is flooded with his red irises, gold specks swimming in the pool of his eyes that almost glow in the dark room. So chillingly beautiful.

You’re breathing hard, unable to look away from Hyungwon’s captivating gaze. A thought passes through: No wonder humans just fall at their feet—who could look away from such a mesmerizing sight?

“Last chance,” he mutters, wetting his plump bottom lip, his scarlet eyes fixed on your neck. “You really want this?”

You card your fingers through his head and tilt his face up, dropping a kiss to his closed eyes, his nose, his pretty lips. You cup his cheek and give him a small smile. “Do it.”

Hyungwon takes a deep breath and kisses your cheek, trails his lips to nip your earlobe, and then lower… He goes slow, building up your anticipation, getting your heart rate up with every kiss and nip and suck.

He laves his tongue over a spot on your neck, and you let out a sigh, relaxing in Hyungwon’s firm hold. The hand still tangled in your hair guides you, tilting your head to the side. He noses at your neck and gives you a final soft kiss, before he draws his fangs and punctures your jugular.

You squeak in pain; the bite stings, but it goes away as fast as it came. You feel Hyungwon draw back his fangs and begin to suck, dragging his tongue over the wounds, and groaning low in his throat at the sweet taste of you.

It occurs to him how much he misses feeding from you. Because of the rarity of these occasions, your blood becomes a treat to him, a sort of delicacy that he deliberately denies himself of. It didn’t take him too long after that first taste of you long ago, to realize that your blood is dangerously addicting.

Hyungwon focuses on drinking your blood, drinking in the small moans you make as he marks your soft skin. He feels your restless hands clawing at his back, the other winding through his long hair—pulling him close or pushing him away, you don’t know.

Your senses are heightened and dulled; you’re acutely aware of every miniscule movement of Hyungwon’s lips on your neck, but the rest of your body feels like it’s floating. He groans against your skin and the vibrations send a jolt of lightning up your spine and you whimper.

Hyungwon immediately pulls back, worried he hurt you. His mouth is stained red. “Are you okay?”

You’re nodding before he finishes, cupping his cheek with a hand. “I’m fine, Hyungwon.” You give him a small smile as he melts into your hand, one of his coming up to keep it there. “Did you want more?”

He shakes his head. “I’m feeling better now. Thank you, love.” He exhales, and you think he does look better than earlier—his skin is brighter, the bags under his eyes are gone, and he’s even breathing more easily. “Let me go clean you up,” he says, and lifts you gently off him, setting you down on the soft comforter just in front of him. He pats your knee before getting up and padding to the bathroom.

You gaze at him as he leaves, the sight of his model-like figure waddling like a penguin amusing. Hyungwon stops at the door and turns to you, smiling at you softly.

He returns a minute later, warm damp washcloth in hand, mouth clean and eyes a lovely brown. He sits at the edge of the bed and cleans your neck with gentle swipes. The bleeding has stopped and the wound is closed, but the surrounding skin is blooming with black and purple bruises. Hyungwon clicks his tongue. “I’m sorry, love. The bite’s gonna leave a mark.”

You carefully tap the wounds, smoothing fingertips over the raised marks. They sting a bit, but it feels more like the soreness after getting a vaccine shot than anything. “It’s okay, love. They’ll heal over the weekend.” You catch his lips in a soft kiss. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

He sets the bloody rag on the nightstand and moves closer to you, kissing you back, cradling your neck for support as he coaxes you to lie on the bed. You smile through the kiss, giggle as you wind your arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your lips. “You looked so beautiful earlier… Thank you for letting me do that.”

You hum. “Anytime, you need, babe. I enjoyed it.”

Hyungwon is propped above you, a thigh slotted between yours. Lazy, slow kisses against the soft sheets seems like the perfect activity for the rest of the day. But you have other plans.

“I gotta admit, though,” you said, brushing his long bangs from his eyes. “That was… kinda hot.” You try to fight a smile, embarrassed at the admission, despite the compromising position you were in just minutes before.

Hyungwon chuckles, ducks his head to press a soft kiss to the puncture marks, the underside of your jaw, your earlobe. “I didn’t expect you to be so into it,” he whispers, his baritone voice seeping into your bones and making you shudder.

You laugh loud at that. “Well, my boyfriend is a hot vampire, what did you think was gonna happen?”

Hyungwon laughs with you, rests his forehead on yours and kisses you again. He buries his face into your neck, the unmarked side, and snakes his arms around your back and rolls you to your sides.

Fingers trace mindless shapes on his back, play with his long hair that’s tangled from your restless hands earlier, relax in the quiet of the afternoon. Your heads are at the foot of the bed, legs tangled together. From the top of Hyungwon’s head, you can just barely see the sun peeking through a slit between the dark curtains, but all you want to do is sleep.

You’re close to dozing off when Hyungwon suddenly speaks. Three words. Your favorite.

“I love you.” He squeezes you slightly and breathes in your scent.

You smile and reply, “I love you, too.”

The world outside your window keeps turning; the weather looks nice today. But you’re not stepping out, not when your whole world is right here, snuggled in your arms.

[alicemitch09writes]

last love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: Nothing was the same anymore, that much was clear. But it is really? Is it really too late for it all?

author’s notes: This is the final part to the first love trilogy. Please go read the first one, then its sequel - skinny love, before this, otherwise you’ll be confused.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

He wakes up with a start – sweating all over, heart pounding against his chest, sleep slowly washes over before realizing where he was and the humid heat that was summer gracing his room. He let out a relieved sigh, falling back into his sheets.

“Tetsuroo, wake up already!” came his mother’s voice, which resounded through the house.

The teen waited until his heart calmed to finally get out of bed, still drenched in sweat. A mirror stood across him, revealing his image – still the same gangly guy with serious bed hair, but his eyes still looked tired, even though his bags had lessened.

Grabbing a towel, he takes a quick shower.

He pretends to not have seen the look on his mother’s face when he wolfs on his breakfast, giving her a quick sloppy kiss on the cheek, before grabbing his bag and leaves.

His phone rings – a text message, he flips his phone and sees a text from his sister, quickly typing a reply before going to the music app. Plugging on his earphones, he begins to walk down a familiar path.

Leaning his head back, clear blue skies greet him. It was too much of a good day today.

Closing his eyes, he soaked up on the light, warming his face. When he opened them, the train station was in clear sight, his steps quickened.

Four stops and twelve blocks later, and he was walking down a place he’s grown familiar with the past few months. The grass was still greener, the flowers were much brighter, and the trees were tall as ever – maybe because it was summer. But the paint job was still terrible, even though they had maintenance work on them.

Upon entering the hospital, he nods at the nurses and staff – all of which, were used to his presence for the past months, adjusting the weight of his right arm, carrying his bag.

Kuroo Tetsturou fell into a routine – he woke up, got dressed, ate breakfast, made small talk with his parents or sister, and went to the hospital. It’s been that way for months.

He stood in front of the door, about to knock when he heard her – a soft strumming and singing.

“I love this place, but it’s haunted without you…”

He felt the familiar skip of his heart at the sound of her voice. Carefully pushing it open, he finds (Name), playing her ukulele, pen, and notebook on her lap.

“My tired heart is beating so slow,” A thoughtful look crosses her face as she sings as if testing the lyrics. She quickly sketches down on her notebook – chords, and lyrics, falling into her element. Picking her ukulele, she strummed slowly, trying the new lyrics – “Our hearts sing less than we wanted, we wanted, our hearts sing ‘cause we do not know, we do not know” –  a small smile gracing her lips when they came out.

Without even knowing, his body moved on its own accord, stepping inside and towards her.

The song had a light melody to it, repetitive on the notes, yet strangely melancholic and full of longing. Yet somehow, unfinished. She stopped for a moment, stumped, before going over it again. Despite her minor slip up, she smiled through it and went over the song again – she was a perfectionist like that.

The sound of the door clicking broke the moment, (Name) looking up to find Kuroo standing in front of him, surprise written all over her face.

“H-Hey, (Name).” Kuroo says, lifting a hand in greeting.

She gives him a nod, awkwardly glances at him, then back to her notes.

“How’s your song going?”

She fiddles with the page, chewing on her bottom lip. “It’s coming.”

“I see.” He nods, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “By the way, I got something for you.” Putting his bag on the foot of her bed, he unzips it and takes out a pink package. “Sis bought some stuff for you, says you’ll be needing it once you get into college.”

Slowly, a smile forms on her face as she reached for it, Kuroo careful as to not let their fingers touch. “That’s nice of her.”

Sitting himself on the couch, he looked at the clutter of papers on the table – university brochures. “Have you decided on where to go? Or are you still bent on getting to where uncle is teaching?” he asked teasingly, especially on the last question, an attempt to lighten the mood.

Her lip curled by a fraction, hugging her instrument close. “…well, it is my dream school and all.”

Kuroo nods at that. “Well, knowing you, you’ll make it – with or without the influence of your dad.” She smiled at that, playing with the ends of her short hair. His eyes followed her fingers tangle in those (hair color) locks, remembering how strange it was to see her usual locks chopped off, of combing them when she was still unconscious.

A tense silence fills in – both teens staring at anything but each other, unsure of what to say next.

“How about you?”

Kuroo made a questioning hum.

“Keiji told me you’re yet to enroll into college,” there was her ever-present concerned tone, (eye color) eyes soft, yet, basing on her tone, there was no mistaking how carefully she had asked.

Peering up to her through his fringe, Kuroo contemplated on his next words. “I haven’t decided on a course yet.” He lied, shrugging offhandedly. “No worries, though, I’ve been working part-time.” That was half a lie, he had just started working at a small grocery store. A small distraction outside the four corners of his own home and the hospital.

Her brows furrowed slightly with worry before it eased away when a knock came from the door. Her doctor – a small middle-aged man named Dr. Ishioka peeked in, beaming at the sight of her.

“Good morning, (Last name)-chan.” Noticing she was not alone, he gave Kuroo a short nod. “And to you, too, Kuroo-kun.”

Kuroo returned the gesture, having been a familiar face in the hospital for the past few months.

“How are we today?”

 “Good,” she smiled, still hugging her ukulele, forgetting her stationary in front of her. When her doctor noticed, he merely gave it a glance. Having finally noticed at what he was looking at, she started looking sheepish. “A-Ah, I was just writing my song!”

The doctor smiled kindly. “And how is it?”

“I-It’s coming,” she replied, using the same answer she gave Kuroo earlier. “I get stuck on words, and things are a little fuzzy to figure out.”

The man nods, hands buried deep in his pocket. “That’s good, getting some brainwork done. However, don’t stress yourself, okay? You’ve been asleep for six months, and it’ll still take some time for your body to get used to moving.”

“She won’t,” Kuroo says aloud, (Name) and Dr. Ishioka turns to him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

(Name) nods dutifully, finally putting down her instrument.

In his professional eyes, there clearly was an underlying tension between the two. Instead of pushing into it, he knew where his limits were.

“Well, that’s good to hear then. You’re in good hands, (Last name)-chan.”

The girl looks up to the doctor, who gives her a kind smile before leaving her a few instructions, which Kuroo was quick to take note of, before leaving.

Just as the door closed behind him, he heaved a sigh, wishing the best for the two.

“(Last name)-saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!” a loud, jolly voice erupted in the room, making a dash for the girl. Barely a step in, Yaku kicked him in the back, grabbing the tall teen by the collar and pulling him back. “Geh- “

“Lev, control yourself! This is a hospital, not a playground! Geez, it’s like taking care of a giant baby.” Meeting her gaze, he lifted a hand. “Yo, (Last name), you look well.”

She laughed, eyes soft at the sight of the Nekoma team filling her room. Kenma, sitting beside her, had his eyes stuck to his console per usual.

“(Last name),” Noboyuki nods, holding out a fruit basket. “we brought you fruits.”

Her smile grew, touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Kai!”

Kenma puts away his console and takes the fruit basket from the taller lad, putting it on a nearby table. He plucks an orange and disappears into the washroom, momentarily leaving (Name) with the Nekoma team.

“(Last Name)-san, your hair!” Inuoka pointed out. “It’s grown so much!”

She laughed at his comment, touching her hair consciously. “Yes, it has. My head feels lighter, actually.”

“Then, you’re keeping it short?”

She hums, tapping her finger to her chin in thought. “Who knows?”

“It looks good, actually,” Yaku commented. “Then again, it’s your hair, so it’s your choice.”

After the short pleasantries, the boys headed towards the couch and sat down, Fukunaga flipping through the channels. Kenma emerges from the washroom, sitting in his spot next to her.

“Ah, it’s your mom’s turn to watch you, right?” Noboyuki asked, sitting on the couch.

She hummed, nodding, Kenma placing the oranges on a table in front of her as he plumped and propped some pillows behind her, making sure that she was comfortable. When he was done, he sat down and began to unpeel his orange, (Name) mimicking him.

“Although" she broke into a sigh, breaking off pieces of the orange "I just wish I could get out of here, it’s so stuffy in here. Not to mention, it gets kind of scary at night.” She shuddered, blaming it on the time when the boys from Fukurodani visited and Bokuto, who had been channel surfing, stopped upon a horror film – particularly on a very scary scene. Lest to say, she didn’t sleep well that night and Bokuto was nearly banned from visiting her again.

“That’s understandable, hospitals tend to be scary,” Noboyuki says kindly.

“You can say that again!” roared Yamamoto.

“Yamamoto, shut up.” Yaku reprimands the loud-mouthed boy.

“Lev, how’s your read block training going?” as soon as the question was asked, the Russian tensed, beginning to sweat profusely.

“A-Ah, it’s going great!”

“He still sucks at it,” Kenma says, munching on a slice of orange with his eyes glued to his game console. “And no amount of practice seems to work, it’s like he’s meant for failure.”

“You can say that again,” says Yamamoto, arms folded against his chest. “he’s a hopeless cause.”

“H-Hey, I’ve been practicing!”

“Bless Nekomata-sensei for ever thinking you had a chance.”

“Yaku-san, not you, too!”

“Time to scoot, little newt!”

“Goddamn it, Fukunaga!”

(Name) couldn’t help but laugh, missing her rowdy boys.

A month of being holed in here was enough to drive anyone insane – everything was too gray, too cold and too dull. It meant so much to her whenever someone came to visit, bringing color to her room and warmth to her heart. Even as they all ganged up on Lev, she knew they really cared. And as far as Kenma’s told him – being vice-captain and all, Lev’s actually not bad. Though, he is quite clumsy with executing his offense and defense. She missed this, she really did.

But the thing was, it just wasn’t the same anymore.

It was hard to be around him anymore, that was a fact.

When she woke up, it looked like she had emerged from a different world. Kuroo quickly called the doctors, happy tears slipping down his face. Too happy to know that she finally woke up – after six months! – he almost forgot to ring her parents of her recovery.

A few hours later, when she slowly came to, he walked back in the room. Happy tears filled the room, the happy parents engulfing their finally awakened sleeping beauty.

But at the sight of him, she suddenly shook and cried – Kuroo quickly ran out of the room before anyone told him to, for her sake. All his worst fears came to life.

The doctors had assured him that it was just the effects of being unconscious for so long – it was difficult to adjust to her surroundings and the people she cared about. Her mind might still be subjected to her previous mindset, long before she went into a coma. So, when she woke up, there was a lot to take in for her. But with the help of doctors, her family, and friends, she was able to come through.

In a span of two weeks, (Name) was showing progress with her recovery. She was still subjected to strains when she overworked herself, especially when it came to brain exercise. But overall, she was doing well, her energy revitalized with the support of her family and friends. And ever since she woke up, there’s not a day when a friend – from Nekoma or Fukurodani – would drop by and visit.

In fact, the only time she ever seemed comfortable was when he wasn’t in the scene. She was much more comfortable with being in the presence of others than with his. And that hurt.

Things just weren’t the same anymore.

She knew that.

He knew that.

And it was all because of that one mistake of his. Just the thought of it made his gut churn, his hands balled into fists, his anger to rise, geared towards him.

There was no questioning of her newfound fear of him, after all, it was also his fault. Kuroo accepted his fate wholeheartedly, even though it killed him.

He could hear his thoughts twisting: of the reason that he stayed, was to ease himself of the guilt, to make him feel better about himself.

So, he came up with a decision, once she’s done with her rehab, when she finally gets discharged, he’ll leave her alone. As much as it pained him, he knew it was for the best.

After all, who was he in her life anymore?

“To light the night, to help us grow…” she mumbled, jolting down her notebook. “It is not said I always know…” Her nose scrunches, having hit a block. Frustrated, she throws her hand in the air, looking around her quiet room. Everything looked too dull, too gray. Instinctively, her hands reached to her right, where her ukulele usually lay, only to find it sitting on the chair across her – her father, had visited earlier and played her a song in an attempt to cheer her up.

(Name) sat up, turns to her side to lower the rail before sliding her feet off the bed. The cold tingle on her toes was a sensation she never knew she’d want to feel again, having been bedridden for months. Taking deep breaths, she lifted her feet off, remembering to bear the weight – feeling like a toddler walking for the first time.

Just as she reached her ukulele, a harsh voice called out. “Didn’t the doctor say you aren’t supposed to strain yourself?”

She looked up, meeting Kuroo’s furious gaze, seeing her out of bed.

Technically, according to the doctor, she could walk quite well now and advised her to do some exercise when she can. Kuroo couldn’t help but overreact.

“B-But…” without a word, he gently helped her back to her bed. She didn’t argue, her mission to grab her ukulele forgotten.

He sighed, pulling up a chair. “You do want to get out, right?” She nods, slowly, withdrawing her fingers away.

“D-Dr. Ishioka says I’m good to walk now.”

“Is that so?” she nods, like a petulant child. Kuroo sighs, eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry for overreacting.”

“It’s okay.” Relaxing, she offered him a gentle smile, which lasted for a minute before realizing the bags under his eyes, how bloodshot his eyes were. “You seem tired.”

“Hm,” he yawned, massaging his throbbing temples. “shitty customer, don’t worry about it.”

“You should sleep.” she offered.

“I’ll be fine,” he calls off, turning his back to look for something to do, anything to avoid her eyes.

“Kuroo Tetsuroo,” she called, using her tone – one he and Kenma were fairly familiar with, even the team. It pleased her to see him tense, slowly facing her. A triumphant smile was ready to break into her face, but concern about his welfare won over.

His shoulders slumped, surrendering. That made her smile, a tiny bit triumphant, before patting on her side. Instead, Kuroo resigned to sitting on a chair next to her bedside, leaning forward to rest his head on his folded arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down?” she offered, clearly displeased.

“I’m fine like this,” he tells her softly. I got used to it.

She looked like she wanted to argue but quickly closed her mouth shut. She moved closer so that he was laying on her lap. “Tetsuroo?”

“Hmm?”

“I-I wanna go to the gardens tomorrow, to stretch my legs.”

“All day?”

She nodded shyly, determined.

“Okay then, walking all day it is. By the way, how’s the song coming?”

Her shoulders fell, dejected. “It’s coming…I’m just stuck…”

Kuroo laughed, muffled by the sheets. And then he broke into a yawn, his head heavy, throbbing, eyelids drooping close but he fought to stay awake. Thin fingers soothingly ran through his hair, like they usually did, easing the tension from his head and replacing it with the sense of calmness.

“Hey, (Name)?” She leaned close, face illuminated by the moonlight. How he wanted to touch her face. “Sing me a song?

Smoothing her fingers through his hair, a soft smile crept its way to his lips, especially when she began to sing. His heart tugged, slowly beating faster – he always loved hearing her sing with or without an instrument. In one exhale, his subconscious slipping, the last thing he heard was her sweet voice and the beating of his heart.

“Hey, (Name).”

“Hm?”

“Why have you been avoiding Kuroo?”

She froze, slowly turning her head to blond-dyed teen beside her, hands folded against his chest and console free. He watched her from the corner of his eye, golden eyes inquisitive, waiting.

“Of course, you knew.” She smiled, leaning into his shoulder. “It’s not that I’m avoiding him…it’s just,” she lifted her hands, making gestures before letting them fall. “I-I don’t know how to talk to him...I’m not sure I want to. Just…being around him makes me feel like a black hole if that even makes sense.” The blank TV screen in front of her bed reflected the two, lying side by side on her bed, but she could also see the view outside her window – a dark blanket of night, the moon obscured by clouds.

“Hey, Kenma?” There was a question she was dying to ask, gnawing her the moment she woke up. She wasn’t even sure if she was ready for the answer, regardless of what it was. “My mind’s a bit fuzzy, and I was unconscious and all, but I do remember voices in the dark.” Swallowing thickly, she says. “A-And I swore I heard Tetsuroo.”

Kenma’s eyes noticeable widened, his shoulders heavy from bearing weights of two sides. In his head, he was debating whether he should tell her or not – he was obligated to, after all.

“Yeah, that was him.” He exhaled, recalling the past six months. “Kuroo didn’t leave your side since he found out you were admitted.”

She let out a weak gasp, the dam breaking. Alarmed, the blonde turned to his friend. “Why are you crying? Are you happy? Sad?”

“Both.” She sobbed, crying against his shoulder. But also, she felt incredibly guilty.

Kenma sighed, really, these two were a handful. When they talked, they both had to be careful of the other, as if they threaded on thin ice. He’s had enough of bearing their secrets, especially when it concerned the other – it made him the third wheel.

But as frustrating as they were, they were still his friends and he cared about them.

A few months into (Name) under coma, Kuroo Tetsuroo received word that he had been qualified for the colleges he applied for, one, in particular, was in the United Kingdom. Driven by guilt, he had to turn down their offers of scholarships for her, too broken to even take a step forward.

A day after she woke up, he called the admissions, asking if he was still qualified. To his luck, he still was.

Although the semester wouldn’t be until next month, Kuroo’s things were all packed. He didn’t bother saying a word to anyone, it was for the best.

It was a dick move, but then again, he was a dick.

This was the biggest leap of faith in his life, the opportunity of a lifetime, he had to take it. Yet, as much as his heart yearned for it, it felt like he was taking the easy way out.

He’ll miss Tokyo, his home, his family, his friends.

But what he’ll miss the most was her.

It’ll be alright, he thought to himself. After all, she’ll be off to college, her dream school, where she can start anew.

And as much as he hated the thought of it, he knew that she’ll meet someone else, someone who’ll treasure her in ways he failed to.

It felt surreal to be outside again, to have the sun and the wind kiss her skin. Hands instinctively flew to her hair as the wind picked up, remembering that it was still growing and it was cropped short.

What’s more surreal was the audition she got for her dream school, which was in a week’s time, having considered her situation. Nekoma was going to have a practice match soon with Karasuno, a mini-reunion was planned by the two schools. She was finally going to meet Kenma’s special someone he met at a Game Expo. It was almost too much for her heart to take.

But something was missing in all this fanfare – Kuroo.

For days, she hasn’t heard a word from him, hasn’t seen from him since. If she traced it back, it started just a day before she was released. She missed him. She really did. Her heart ached just to see a familiar hide of messy black hair, his gangly form, his easy smile.

And then she received a call from Bokuto, frantically telling her that Kuroo was at the hospital.

Apparently, he was out drinking with a few friends and suddenly got into a fight. Although he started it, he didn’t fight back, allowing the guy to beat him to a pulp. Had Bokuto not been there and Kuroo’d be critical.

Without a word, she ran out of her house, thoughts flying to Kuroo.

Upon arrival, her heart broke at the sight of him, hating that his arm was bandaged, the bruises and stitches on his face. She had the exact look of heartbreak when he saw her, all the guilt washed over her as she rushed to his side.

“What happened to you, Tetsurou?” he smelled of blood, dirt, sweat, and alcohol, but she didn’t care. “I know you’re one to pick fights, but I never thought you’d go this far.”

He turned away, avoiding her in eyes. That hurt. Kenma’s words surfaced, making her heart twinge.

“What’s she doing here?” he asked Bokuto angrily, completely ignoring her presence. She flinched at his tone, mind flashing to a certain memory.

“She was the best person to call,” Akaashi answered calmly, appearing next to the grey-haired teen. “Kuroo-san, go home. And more importantly, you and (Last name)-san need to talk.”

“Eh? But Akaashi, don’t you think Kuroo’s out of it?”

“I’m very much sober, thank you very much.” Kuroo threw a glare at the raven-haired setter, ignoring Bokuto’s concern, or (Name)’s.

After being given painkillers, Kuroo was good to go. And before anyone could stop him, he walked out of the hospital.

(Name) looked at the two teens worriedly before chasing after him, calling after his retreating form. But he didn’t look back, not even once. She didn’t stop chasing after him either.

Finally, he stopped by the riverside next to the bridge – the same one she found he and Kenma some years ago. Although puzzled, she followed him down the steps. Knowing that she was behind him, that she wouldn’t leave him alone, Kuroo sighed – ignoring the pain from his chest. He sat down, she took it as an invitation, sitting a step above him.

The silence between them was thick with a heavy weight of guilt wrought by the past few months, hearts burdened heavily. It was almost unbearable to even breathe, running away was the perfect option, yet the two stayed, another option weighing heavier.

They remain like that for at least an hour, the night growing older with every second. Two teenagers too afraid to tell the other what they wanted to say, fear holding them back.

Finally, for what seemed like forever, Kuroo exhaled through his nose, a heavy sigh. That was never a good sign. “I’m going to Cambridge.”

Her head whipped to him, he worried she’d get a whiplash. But she didn’t, her world just stopped. “W-What…?”

Sighing again, he pressed his forehead to his palms, unable to meet her eyes. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but this was for the best.

“The next semester won’t start until next month, but in a few days or weeks, I was called to take a test and offered a scholarship. So, I leave sometime this month.”

She could feel her heart twisting with every word he said, and she hated it – hated the way he talked to her, hated how he seemed to avoid her. Then again, she pretty much did the same thing when she woke up. She missed him, she really did.

Brought by the pent-up emotions she’s been feeling, she called out, in a shaky tone. “Hey, Tetsu, won’t you listen to my song?”

Song? He peeked up at her. So, she finally got to finish her song.

Swallowing hard, she reached for her ukulele – the sight of the band-aid sent a sharp pain in his heart, a painful reminder – fingers positioned over the strings, shaking just by a fraction. Before he could stop her, she glanced up at him and began singing.

  I love this place

But haunted without you

My tired heart is beating so slow

Our hearts sing less than we wanted

We wanted

Our hearts sing cause

We do not know

We do not know

 Her singing was as gentle as her music, enough to bring tears to his eyes.

He was reminded of the many times she’d sing to him, in times when he was at his lowest. To cheer him up, all it took was a few comforting words, a gentle smile, a warm hug, or her offering a song. It was cheesy, but he loved it, especially because when she sang to him, it would be only him and just him alone, making it very personal for him. He was selfish like that, especially with her.

  To light the night

To help us grow

To help us grow

It is not said I always know

 Of course, you don’t, he thought laughingly.

He could feel the longing in her voice, the loneliness – it made her seem like she was a princess locked up in a tower. Its lyrics tugged at him, knowing the feeling so well.

When their eyes met, he saw the young woman he fell in love with when they were 8, the young woman who held his heart now.

  You can catch me

Don't you run

Don't you run

If you live another day in this happy little house

The fire’s here to stay

 The emotion in her eyes made his throat dry, tugging his heart – did she just?

  To light the night

To help us grow

To help us grow

It is not said I always know

 His heart was hammering wildly against his chest, a rush of emotions burning inside, igniting his veins. The words were at the tip of his tongue, heart ready to burst out of his chest to tell her.

But not just yet, he didn’t want to jinx it, couldn’t bring himself to, he wanted to hear more.

  Please don't make a fuss

It won't go away

The wonder of it all the wonder that I made

I am here to stay

I am here to stay

Stay

  Overwhelmed by her emotions, by the pent-up emotions she’s withheld for so long, tears began streaming down her face uncontrollably. Alarmed, Kuroo quickly took her ukulele aside and enveloped her in his arms.

At his touch, everything she’s been holding in surfaced - missing him, loving him. “I’m sorry!” she cried, returning the hug, tightening her hold on him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“No, don’t say you’re sorry.” He pulls back to plant a kiss to her forehead, thumbs brushing her tears away. “Don’t you ever feel sorry, (Name).” He whispered against her skin.

Kenma’s neutral look of displeasure came to mind. He felt like an idiot. How could he be so stupid to have dismissed her feelings over his?

(Name) couldn't stop crying, her heart was so full of emotions that it seemed like it would burst anytime. She felt loved, so loved in Kuroo's arms - from the boy she's loved for so long. And somehow, his embrace made everything better, everything was forgiven, forgotten – yet, it made things worse at the same time.

“Tetsurou, please don’t go…” glossy (eye color) eyes begging, his heart aching. She couldn't take not having him by her side, couldn't take the thought of losing him. “Don’t go, please.” Gentle hands reached up to cup his face, tears continuing to stream down. “Stay, please.”

Oh, those (eye color) eyes, she had no idea of its effect on him.

“Stay?”

Placing his larger hands in hers, he leaned his forehead with hers, their noses bumping.

“Always.”