#but i saw that post on pinterest and had to make this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amethystarachnid · 2 days ago

Note

So I saw a post on Pinterest and I thought it would be a good idea for a fanfic?im just gonna type it out and explain it after

Peter: im back from my trip i got you another magnet mr.white wolf

Bucky:cool stick it on

Tony: is that peters shopping list on your arm?

Bucky: yea

Tony: what the

Tony: Peter you need to stop using buckys arm as a fridge

Peter: Mr. White wolf said it helps him associate the arm with something other than murder

Tony: crying

So basically I was wondering if you could do this well not this interaction but like reader and Bucky are friends and reader is Peter? If that makes any sense?

STICKERS

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x teen!gn!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic, fluff

ᯓ★ Word count: 2.5k (I'm so sorry if it's too short, hope you like it anyway)

ᯓ★ Summary: Bucky always lets you stick stickers to his vibranium arm but had never told you why...until now.

ᯓ★ I hope I understood the request well, and I tried to make the reader gender neutral since it wasn't specified in the ask, hope you like it <3

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The hum of the compound is familiar by now. Machines whir softly in the background, the faint scent of coffee lingers in the air, and somewhere in the distance, you can hear Sam and Tony bickering over something that probably doesn’t matter. This is home—at least, as close as it gets. It wasn’t always, but things changed. The world changed, and you had to change with it.

Being here is better than being out there. You know that much. The compound is safer. It’s structured. Sure, it’s a little weird living with a bunch of Avengers, but it beats the alternative. When SHIELD fell apart, a lot of things got messy, including your life. No family, no place to go, just a kid caught in the middle of something bigger than them. Steve found you first, said they’d figure something out, and now, somehow, you’ve ended up here. Officially, you’re under the Avengers’ protection. Unofficially, you’re the compound’s resident stray.

“Alright, what is it this time?”

Bucky’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance up from where you’ve been hunched over the kitchen counter, fidgeting with a fresh roll of stickers. He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking at you with an exasperated sort of fondness.

You grin. “You make it sound like I’ve done something bad.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Haven’t you?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘bad,’” you say, tearing off a small sticker shaped like a cat. Without hesitation, you reach out and press it to the cool vibranium of his forearm. It sticks perfectly, just like you knew it would.

Bucky sighs like a man who has known deep suffering. “Why do you keep doing this?”

“Because you let me,” you answer simply, peeling off another sticker—this one shaped like a tiny watermelon slice—and placing it beside the first.

It’s true. You started doing this months ago, fully expecting him to shut it down after the first few times. He never did. The first time, it had been a dumb impulse, something to break the tension. You’d been talking, and without really thinking about it, you’d stuck a star-shaped sticker onto his arm. He’d given you a long, unreadable look but hadn’t peeled it off. That was all the encouragement you needed.

Now, it’s a habit. Every time you see him, you add a new one. Sometimes, he’ll pretend not to notice. Other times, he’ll act put-upon, like he’s carrying some great burden. You know better, though. If he really hated it, he wouldn’t still be standing here, letting you decorate his arm like it’s an elementary school art project.

“I let you do a lot of things,” he mutters, watching as you place a little frog next to the watermelon.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” you say, grinning.

“Steve’s gonna be hurt,” he points out.

“Steve’s got enough fans,” you reply, reaching for another sticker. This one’s a smiley face with sunglasses. You stick it on his wrist.

Bucky glances down at his arm, then back at you. His expression softens—just a little. “Y’know, people used to be scared of me.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, adding a rainbow to his forearm, “they clearly weren’t looking hard enough. You’re a giant teddy bear.”

He scoffs, but there’s no real heat behind it. “A ‘teddy bear’ with a metal arm and a kill count.”

“Even teddy bears have claws,” you say, shrugging. “Besides, you let a teenager put stickers on you. That automatically lowers your intimidation factor.”

Bucky huffs but doesn’t argue. You know he won’t take them off. He never does, at least not right away. Sometimes, hours later, you’ll spot him across the compound, still wearing them.

That’s enough for you.

It doesn’t take long for the others to notice.

The first one to point it out is Sam.

You’re both sitting in the common room, Bucky on the couch, you curled up on the opposite end, sorting through a new pack of stickers you got from a store Tony let you raid on a supply run. They’re good ones, too—holographic, shimmery, some even glow in the dark. You’re in the process of carefully placing a tiny raccoon on Bucky’s wrist when Sam strolls in, eyes scanning the room before landing on the two of you.

His brows pull together. “Uh, what the hell is that?”

Bucky, who has clearly mastered the art of selective ignorance, doesn’t look up from his book. You, however, grin and wave. “What’s what?”

“That,” Sam says, pointing at Bucky’s arm like it personally offended him.

Bucky finally sighs, lowering his book just enough to glare over the top of it. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, man.”

Sam narrows his eyes and gestures again. “That. The stickers. What am I looking at?”

You lean back, admiring your work. By now, Bucky’s metal arm is covered in a vibrant mess of stickers—cartoon animals, little hearts, a glittery UFO, and even a miniature Avengers logo you’d snuck in just for fun.

You beam. “Art.”

Sam blinks. He looks at Bucky, then back at you, then back at Bucky. “And you’re just…letting them do this?”

Bucky shrugs. “Yeah.”

Silence. Sam stares, mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. Eventually, he just lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Man, you really are getting soft.”

Bucky flips him off without looking up.

You take that as permission to add another sticker—a rainbow-colored star, right on his shoulder.

Sam shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before grabbing his drink from the fridge and heading out, still looking vaguely disturbed by what he just witnessed.

Of course, Sam being Sam, the moment he’s out of the room, you know he’s going to tell the others.

The next one to comment on it is Natasha.

You’re sitting at the kitchen counter, helping yourself to a bowl of cereal, when she walks in. She nods at you in greeting before grabbing a protein bar from the cabinet. It’s a normal morning, nothing out of the ordinary—until she glances at Bucky and does a double-take.

She tilts her head slightly. “Did you get in a fight with a Lisa Frank notebook?”

You nearly choke on your cereal.

Bucky, who is now used to this reaction, doesn’t even blink. “No.”

Natasha takes a bite of her protein bar, studying him. “Then why does your arm look like a kindergarten art project?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, so you take it upon yourself. “Because I put them there.”

Natasha arches an eyebrow. “And he let you?”

“Obviously,” you say, popping another spoonful of cereal into your mouth.

She’s quiet for a moment, her sharp gaze flicking from you to Bucky. You half-expect her to make a snarky comment or tease him, but instead, she just hums and says, “Huh.”

And then she reaches into her pocket, pulls out a tiny cat magnet, and sticks it to his forearm before walking away like nothing happened.

Bucky stares after her, brow furrowed. He lifts his arm slightly, looking at the magnet now clinging to the vibranium.

You snort. “You’re officially a walking fridge.”

He groans.

It only gets worse from there.

A few days later, Steve notices.

You’re in the gym, watching Bucky and Steve spar while pretending to be invested in a book. In reality, you’re mostly waiting for them to finish so you can rope Bucky into watching a movie with you.

Steve circles Bucky, eyes narrowed in concentration. He throws a punch, which Bucky easily dodges. There’s a beat of silence before Steve suddenly drops his stance, frowning.

“…Are those stickers?”

Bucky sighs. “Jesus Christ.”

Steve squints, stepping back to get a better look. “They are.” His frown deepens. “And…are those magnets?”

You bite back a laugh.

Bucky glares at you like this is somehow your fault (which, to be fair, it is).

Steve crosses his arms. “You’ve been walking around like this?”

“Yes.”

“And you just…let them do it?”

“Yes.”

Steve blinks, clearly struggling to process this information. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to reconcile the image of his best friend, ex-Winter Soldier, walking around covered in colorful stickers and fridge magnets.

Eventually, he just sighs. “You’re impossible.”

Bucky smirks. “Took you this long to figure that out?”

Steve shakes his head, clearly exasperated, but doesn’t push the subject further.

You take that as a win.

Tony’s reaction is arguably the best.

You’re in the lab with Bucky, keeping him company while Tony messes around with something that looks vaguely explosive. He’s in the middle of rambling about some new upgrade for Bucky’s arm when he abruptly stops mid-sentence.

His eyes narrow. “Hold on.”

Bucky tenses. “What?”

Tony steps closer, squinting at his arm. He lifts a finger and flicks one of the magnets, watching as it wobbles slightly before settling back into place.

“…Are you kidding me?”

Bucky groans. “Not you too.”

Tony bursts out laughing. “Oh, this is rich. You—you’ve been walking around like this? Just letting them stick things to you?”

“Yes,” Bucky says flatly.

Tony looks at you, still grinning. “You did this?”

You nod proudly. “Yep.”

He lets out an impressed whistle. “Wow. I gotta say, Barnes, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Are you done?”

Tony pretends to consider. “Nope.”

Bucky mutters something under his breath and turns to leave, but before he can make his escape, Tony suddenly grabs a Stark Industries magnet from his workbench and slaps it onto Bucky’s bicep with a satisfied smirk.

Bucky glares at him. “I hate you.”

Tony winks. “No, you don’t.”

You snicker as Bucky stomps out of the lab, now sporting a Stark-branded magnet.

Despite the teasing, Bucky never takes them off right away.

Sometimes, you’ll catch him absentmindedly running his fingers over a sticker while he’s reading or training. Other times, you’ll see him glance down at his arm, something soft and unreadable in his expression before he quickly schools his face back into neutrality.

You don’t push. You don’t have to.

He lets you do this because he knows it makes you happy. Because he knows it makes you feel safe.

And, maybe—just maybe—because he doesn’t mind it as much as he pretends to.

The stickers—and now magnets—become a daily ritual.

At this point, everyone in the compound has noticed. Clint, predictably, laughs himself half to death when he first sees Bucky with a sparkly unicorn sticker on his wrist. Thor, on the other hand, is completely unbothered. He takes one look, nods approvingly, and later gifts you a set of Asgardian insignia stickers that you immediately slap onto Bucky’s arm. Even Bruce, who usually keeps to himself, quietly asks if he can contribute and hands you a little atom-shaped magnet one afternoon.

Bucky grumbles about it, of course. He sighs dramatically when you press another sticker onto his arm, acts like it’s the greatest inconvenience in the world, but he never actually stops you. He never pulls away. He never tells you no.

And he never takes them off until he’s alone.

You start paying attention, watching him when he thinks no one else is looking. He’ll be in the middle of a conversation, his fingers absentmindedly brushing over the stickers on his forearm, tracing the edges. You notice that he doesn’t cover his arm as much anymore—not as often as he used to. Before, he wore long sleeves even in the middle of summer, like he couldn’t stand the sight of it. Now, he just lets it be.

That realization sits in the back of your mind for a long time.

Then, one day, you ask.

It’s late.

Most of the compound has already turned in for the night. The common room is quiet, dimly lit by the glow of the television, where some old black-and-white movie plays with the volume low. You’re curled up on the couch next to Bucky, a fresh pack of stickers in your lap.

You press a new one onto his arm—a tiny golden retriever wearing sunglasses—before hesitating.

“Hey, Buck?”

He glances down at you. “Yeah?”

You fidget slightly, turning the next sticker over in your hands. “…Why do you let me do this?”

Bucky blinks, like he wasn’t expecting that question. “Huh?”

You gesture vaguely to his arm, now covered in an assortment of colorful stickers and small magnets. “This. Why do you let me put them on you? You could’ve told me to stop. But you didn’t.”

For a moment, he’s quiet. His expression shifts—just a little—but you catch it. A flicker of something uncertain, something careful, like he’s picking his words before speaking.

Then, finally, he exhales.

“…Because it helps.”

You tilt your head. “Helps with what?”

Bucky glances down at his arm, his fingers skimming over the stickers.

“You know what this arm used to be,” he says, his voice quieter than before. “What it used to do.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

He swallows, his jaw tight. “For a long time, it felt like it didn’t belong to me. Like it was just…a weapon. A part of me that wasn’t really mine.” His fingers brush over the little cartoon raccoon you stuck near his wrist. “But then you started doing this. And…I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” you say immediately.

He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Maybe not. But it’s…different, now. When I look at it.” He pauses, then shakes his head. “When I see the stickers, I don’t think about the things I’ve done. I think about you. About Sam rolling his eyes, Nat sneaking magnets onto me, Steve acting like he doesn’t get it even though he does.” His voice softens. “I think about now. Not then.”

You don’t know when your eyes started burning, but suddenly, it’s hard to see. You swallow thickly, trying to blink away the sting.

“Oh,” you say, and it comes out smaller than you meant it to.

Bucky glances at you, eyes sharp. “Hey. Don’t cry on me, kid.”

“I’m not,” you lie, furiously rubbing at your eyes. “It’s just—you just said something really nice, and my dumb emotions weren’t prepared for it.”

Bucky huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Says the guy covered in stickers,” you sniff, but you’re smiling now, even if your throat is still tight.

Bucky shakes his head, rolling his eyes, but there’s something softer in his expression when he looks at you.

“…Thanks, kid.”

You look up at him. “For what?”

He gestures vaguely at his arm. “This. The stickers. Everything.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just grab another sticker and carefully press it onto the back of his hand.

Bucky glances down at it. It’s a tiny heart.

He smiles.

I'm so sorry if this it's too short I didnt know what else to add :(

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xlettex · 2 days ago

Text

Deception || tetsurou kuroo Yakuza AU - Chapter Six

From the moment you looked into his eyes, you knew—he was nothing but trouble. Everyone warned you. Stay away from him. Don’t get involved. But you never listened. Tetsurou Kuroo, better known as Kurai, is the infamous yakuza boss of Japan. Just mentioning his name is enough to send shivers down spines and silence conversations in dimly lit alleyways. He is a force of nature—deceitful, ruthless, and dangerously unpredictable. A man who bends the world to his will, leaving chaos in his wake. And yet, to you… he is irresistible. You crave him — his touch, his warmth, the way he sets your skin on fire with just a glance. He makes you feel invincible like you can take on the world. But loving him is a double-edged sword. Because just as he lifts you up, he destroys you.

pairing - tetsurou kuroo x reader genre - action romance, crime romance, dark romance, erotica/smut rating - 18+ MINORS DNI chapter word count - 13.0k content warning - violence, drugs and alcohol, illegal activities, sexual content, angst. see each chapter for specific warnings.

Authors Note - This fanfic is inspired by the amazing fanart of the tetsurou kuroo mafia au (found image on pinterest, help me find the artist - I want to credit them). Disclaimer - This is a work of fiction, I do not condone the act of illegal activities, violence, or romanticization of the yakuza. Read at your own risk.

chapter five <- chapter six -> chapter seven

✯ chapter-specific warnings - smoking, violence, injury, threats, exhaustion, illegal activity, manipulation, stalking? & surveillance ✯

The knock was too soft. Hesitant. Like you weren’t sure if you should be here at all. You tightened your grip on the sleeves of your shirt, shifting on your feet as the seconds dragged on. Your stomach twisted—not from anything logical, just a deep, sinking weight pressing against your ribs.

You shouldn’t be here. But where else could you go?

The moment Koushi’s door swung open, everything inside you nearly collapsed.

He was wearing sweatpants, an old college hoodie that was too small for him, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and his hair messier than usual—probably grading papers or falling asleep on the couch watching reruns of shitty crime shows.

He whispered your name. Careful. Measured. His voice wasn’t angry. But something about it made your chest tighten.

You had shown up unannounced before. Late-night coffee runs, bad days at work, post-breakup meltdowns where you just needed to sit in his kitchen and exist. But this was different. You were different.

Koushi saw it instantly. The tension in your shoulders. The way you hesitated in the doorway like you weren’t sure if you had the right to be here. The way you exhaled—sharp, uneven—like the simple act of knocking had drained you.

“Can I come in?”

He didn’t ask questions. Not yet. He just stepped aside, letting you in. Because whatever this was—it wasn’t good. The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly the weight in your chest felt suffocating.

The house smelled the same—warm, familiar, safe. A mix of fresh coffee, old books, and the faintest trace of laundry detergent. It shouldn’t have felt so foreign.

Koushi walked past you, heading toward the kitchen, his voice casual—but too careful. “You eat yet?”

You shook your head.

He nodded and reached toward the chair by the kitchen table, grabbing a hoodie. One of his old ones. He tossed it to you without a word. The fabric was soft and faded with time. Without thinking, you pulled it over your head. The weight of it settled against your shoulders as you sank into the chair, exhaling slowly.

He didn’t comment.

Instead, he just grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee, no cream, no sugar—just how you liked it. Something about that made your throat tighten. He placed the mug in front of you. The soft clink of ceramic against the wooden table felt heavier than it should have. A quiet gesture, but loaded with understanding.

You stared at the steaming liquid, watching the way the dark surface rippled from the motion, the heat curling into the air like something alive. The rich, bitter scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the space between you, comforting and familiar—the kind of familiar you hadn't realized you were aching for.

Something inside you twisted. It was too much. Too normal. Too grounding. Too real.

Koushi settled into the chair across from you, silent, waiting. He didn’t press, didn’t pry. Not yet. But you could feel it—the weight of his gaze, the careful way his fingers curled around his own mug, the patience that came with knowing you weren’t ready to say it yet.

The coffee was warm when you finally wrapped your hands around it, the heat seeping into your palms, spreading through your fingers like a lifeline. You took a slow sip, letting the bitterness settle on your tongue, waiting for it to burn away the tightness in your chest.

It didn’t.

His eyes flickered, barely a movement, but you caught it.

He knew. You weren’t okay.

You curled your fingers tighter around the mug, pressing your palms into the ceramic as if the warmth could hold you together. As if you weren’t unraveling at the seams.

He exhaled slowly, resting his elbow on the table, his fingers tapping against the side of his cup—a subtle rhythm, slow, methodical. Then— "You want to tell me why your hands are shaking?"

The words weren’t sharp, but they cut through you anyway. Your stomach clenched. You hadn’t noticed. You dropped your gaze to the mug, watching as the ripples trembled beneath your grip. Your knuckles were white, your fingertips pressing too hard against the ceramic, as if you were too afraid to let go. You forced yourself to take another sip, hoping he wouldn’t say anything else.

He did. "Or are you just gonna sit there and pretend everything's fine?"

Your throat tightened. You couldn’t do this. Not yet. Not without breaking.

Koushi sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw, his patience stretching thin, but not snapping. He studied you for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair. "You don’t have to talk. Not yet," he said finally. "But drink your coffee before it gets cold. You look like you need it."

The words should have been casual. They weren’t. They were permission. To sit here. To breathe. To exist without expectation. The lump in your throat tightened, your grip on the mug shifting as you swallowed hard against the overwhelming urge to say something—to tell him.

But how were you supposed to tell him?

That you had gotten into something you couldn’t leave? That you had said yes to something you didn’t fully understand? That the reason your hands were shaking wasn’t just exhaustion—but the realization that your life wasn’t your own anymore?

So you didn’t. Instead, you took another sip of coffee. And for now, that was enough.

Koushi didn’t push. He didn’t press, didn’t demand, didn’t fill the silence with questions you weren’t ready to answer. He just waited. Not for an excuse. Not for the whole truth.

Just for whatever you were willing to give him. You swallowed, your fingers tracing the rim of your mug absently, words lingering at the edge of your tongue before you finally let them slip. “I got a new job.”

His eyes flickered, barely a movement, but you caught it. He nodded once, slowly. His fingers tapped against the mug. Not surprised. Not relieved. Just… waiting.

“Yeah?” His voice was even. Casual. “Didn’t know you were looking for one.”

“I wasn’t.”

The admission hung between you. For a second, you thought he might call you on it—ask what changed, ask why now, ask what kind of job leaves you like this.

Shaking. Worn thin. Like whatever you’d just stepped into was already swallowing you whole.

But he didn’t. He just took a sip of coffee, his gaze steady. Letting you decide how much to give him.

You exhaled, tucking your hands into the sleeves of his old hoodie. It smelled like him. Like home. Like something steady. Faint traces of cologne still clung to the fabric—warm, clean, familiar. A scent you’d known for years. A scent that didn’t belong to this night, to this mess, to the weight pressing down on your ribs. A scent you could lose yourself in if you let it.

And for a moment, you almost did.

“It’s… different from the hospital,” you murmured, voice softer now.

Koushi hummed a quiet acknowledgment. But he didn’t ask how. Didn’t ask what you were doing or why you looked like you hadn’t slept. And for some reason—that made it easier to keep talking.

“It’s not bad,” you murmured. Not a lie. But not the truth, either. “Just… new.”

Another slow nod. Thoughtful. Measured. And then—soft, quiet, careful: “You gonna tell me what kind of job it is?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t have an answer. But because you did. Your fingers curled around the ceramic, gripping it just a little tighter. “It’s still medical work,” you said finally. “I’m helping people who can’t go to a hospital.”

He exhaled, slow and deep. His eyes closed—just for a second—before settling back on you. And then, softer this time—“It’s safe, right?”

Your breath caught. You knew what he was really asking.

Not if you were happy. Not if you were okay. But if you were in danger.

If he should be worried. If he should be doing more than just sitting across from you, waiting for answers you wouldn’t give him.

You thought about Tetsurou. The way he carried himself—calm, deliberate, inescapable. The way he looked at you—with an unsettling certainty—that nothing would touch you. Not because the world wasn’t dangerous. But because he wouldn’t allow it.

“Yes.” Your voice was quieter than you meant it to be. But honest.

A pause.

The words settled between you, heavy and unmoving. Koushi didn’t argue. Didn’t call you out. But the way his fingers tapped against the table again—slower this time, measured, like he was piecing something together—

Made it clear.

He knew. Maybe not everything. But enough. And the worst part? He let it go. Not because he believed you. But because, for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he could save you.

The silence thickened, pressing against the walls, against your ribs, wrapping around your lungs like something you couldn’t shake. It should have felt like relief—that he wasn’t pushing, that he wasn’t demanding more.

But it didn’t. Because Koushi never let things go. Not when it came to you. His fingers curled into a loose fist against the tabletop, jaw tightening before he exhaled through his nose—long, slow, controlled.

You saw it happen—the moment he swallowed back instinct. The moment he forced himself not to argue, not to press, not to force the truth from you. Not because he didn’t want to. But because—what if he didn’t like what he found? What if he couldn’t fix it? What if you were already too deep?

A lump formed in your throat, thick and unmoving. You hadn’t wanted this. Hadn’t wanted to bring Koushi into your mess, hadn’t wanted him to look at you like he was losing something. But he was.

His knee bounced beneath the table—restless energy curling at the edges of his frame—but his voice remained steady. Quiet. Unshaken. “Okay.”

That was all. Just okay. Not a demand. Not a lecture. Not an ultimatum. It should have made it easier. It didn’t. Because his quiet wasn’t relief—it was the weight of something unspoken, something hanging between you that neither of you knew how to bridge.

You knew it. He knew it.

He just didn’t know what to do about it. And somehow, that was worse. His gaze flicked toward the window again—just for a second. Just long enough for unease to settle beneath his ribs.

You didn’t follow his line of sight. You didn’t have to. Someone was there.

Watching. Waiting.

You wondered if he had noticed them when you walked in. If he had already seen the car idling on the street. If he had already known—before you even knocked on his door—that something was wrong. That you weren’t in control.

His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed, his knee finally stilling. He rolled his shoulders back, stretching his arms over his head—as if trying to shake off whatever thoughts were creeping in. Then, his voice came again—softer this time. More certain.

“Remember my promise—I’m not going anywhere.”

The words landed heavier than you expected, curling around something fragile inside you. He meant it. No matter what you had done. No matter what you hadn’t said. No matter what you were turning into. He meant it.

Your breath hitched, just barely—and Koushi caught it. His expression softened—just for a second—before he leaned back, voice dipping lower, quieter.

“You don’t have to tell me everything.”

A pause.

“But when you need to, I’ll be here.”

His gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment— Something cracked inside you.

And then, he let out a slow, tired breath—one that sounded like he was carrying the weight of the night on his shoulders. His fingers drummed absently against the table as if debating something. Then—

“I never thought I’d say this,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face, “but I think I’d rather have you show up crying over some loser you dated than… whatever the hell this is.”

You huffed out a small laugh. Weak, but real. “Gee, thanks.”

He shot you a smirk—tired, worn at the edges, not quite reaching his eyes. “At least then, I could tell you he sucked and threatened to key his car.”

Something in your chest eased. The corner of your lips twitched—the smallest flicker of warmth in an otherwise cold night. For the first time since stepping through his door, your shoulders relaxed. Because this—this—was why you had come here. Not to be questioned. Not to be saved. But to be with him.

To pretend, even for just a little while, that things could still feel normal. You glanced at him, hesitating.

“…Can we just watch a movie?” Your voice came softer now, barely above a whisper. “Like old times?”

He blinked—caught off guard for a second. Then—He smiled. Small. Barely there. But real.

“Yeah,” he said, already moving towards the couch. “Yeah, we can.”

You were curled up on the couch now, pressing into the worn cushions, the soft hum of an awful reality show filling the room. Koushi’s half-sat, half-sprawled beside you, arms folded, head tilted back against the couch cushions. His breathing had slowed, evening out into something softer, quieter. He was finally relaxed.

Every so often, he muttered something half-heartedly about how stupid the contestants were, and you’d nudge him in response, letting the warmth of normalcy settle into your bones. For a moment—just a fleeting, fragile moment—it almost felt like nothing had changed.

Then—an unfamiliar chime cut through the quiet. Your pulse jumped. The moment shattered. You didn’t need to check. You already knew who it was. Slowly, carefully, you pulled it out, heart stuttering as your gaze fell on the message.

Tetsurou: It’s getting quite late.

Your chest tightened.

Koushi stirred beside you, letting out a drowsy, incoherent mumble—something about the show being garbage, about how he’d never understand why you watched this crap. His words slurred slightly. He was barely awake now.

You swallowed. You needed to go. Carefully, so carefully, you shifted, pulling away from the cushions, standing without making a sound. Koushi barely moved. His head lolled slightly against the couch, his breathing deep and steady now.

Asleep. Good.

Your fingers twitched as you grabbed a pen, ripping a scrap of paper from an old receipt on the counter. You hesitated—just for a second.

Then, you wrote:

Didn’t want to wake you. Thanks for tonight. Don’t worry about me too much. I promise I’ll come back.

A pause.

The pen hovered over the paper. Then—with a quiet, final certainty, you added: I love you.

You pressed the note to the fridge, letting your fingertips linger against the paper, the ink still fresh. Then—without another glance back, without letting yourself stop, without letting yourself think too much—you slipped out the front door.

The moment you stepped outside, the cool night air bit at your skin, settling deep into your bones. You curled deeper into Koushi’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over your hands, but it didn’t help. Because the second you looked up—

You saw Lev.

He was leaning casually against the sleek black car, hands stuffed in his pockets, the dim glow of the streetlights casting long shadows across his face. The moment he spotted you, he pushed off the car, stretching lazily—but his eyes told a different story.

His gaze dragged over you, slow, deliberate. His smirk twitched, but there was something thoughtful behind it, something assessing. “That guy your boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes, fingers brushing the car door handle. “You sure like to talk for someone who’s not supposed to?”

Lev’s smirk faltered—just for a second. Just long enough for you to see it. The realization. The unspoken warning that had been drilled into him.

He wasn’t entitled to your life story. And he knew it.

He huffed out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I just can’t help myself.”

You didn’t respond. Without another word, you slid into the car.

Lev hesitated. Just for a second. Then, he followed, shutting the door behind him, the interior dimly lit by the soft glow of the dashboard. The quiet hum of the engine filled the space as he settled into the seat beside you.

Outside, the streetlights flickered. Inside, the weight of the night pressed against your ribs. Lev didn’t push. Didn’t ask. Didn’t even look at you right away. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, shifting in his seat, tapping his fingers absently against his thigh before muttering—just low enough that you almost didn’t catch it.

“He’s not gonna like this.”

A sharp pang rippled through your core. You turned to him, but he was already scrolling through his phone, eyes fixed on the screen, his expression carefully neutral. Like he hadn’t just said anything at all. Like the words hadn’t just settled deep in your chest like a warning.

The silence in the car stretched, thick and heavy, wrapping around your ribs like something you couldn’t shake. By the time you stepped into the penthouse, the feeling hadn’t faded. The weight in your chest. The hum beneath your skin. That slow, sinking awareness curling at the edges of your ribs.

The air inside was still. Too still. The only sound was the distant thrum of the city below, muffled by the walls of glass stretching from floor to ceiling. The lights were dim, casting long shadows across the polished floors, stretching toward the massive windows where the skyline burned gold against the night.

And then—him.

Tetsurou sat near the window, sprawled across the chair, cigarette balanced between his fingers, draped across the leather as if he had all the time in the world. The ember flared red as he took a slow drag, exhaling smoke into the air like he had nothing better to do than wait.

For you.

The city lights burned behind him, slicing across his sharp features—angles of gold and shadow. His half-lidded gaze tracked your every move. Unbothered. Relaxed. Watching you like you were something he owned. Something he hadn’t quite decided what to do with yet.

You wrinkled your nose, waving at the air between you. “Smoking kills, you know.”

A smirk curled at his lips. Slow. Unhurried. He flicked the ash off the tip, eyes dragging over you like a slow burn. Lingering. Peeling you apart. "What I do can too."

The words slithered through the space between you, curling around your ribs, settling deep in your chest. A quiet reminder. A warning. You shifted, but his gaze didn’t waver.

Didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

And then—just when the silence stretched too thin, his voice came again. Low. Even. Too casual. “We need to talk.”

A flicker of unease crawled up your spine.

He leaned forward, forearms resting against his knees, cigarette still dangling from his fingers. The smoke curled between you like a barrier—something thick, something you wouldn’t be able to cross. “The attitude earlier today?” His fingers tapped once against the armrest, the sound too soft, too deliberate. “Yeah, that doesn’t happen again.”

Your shoulders stiffened. “Excuse me?”

His smirk deepened—but there was no humor in it.

"Careful."

His voice was almost conversational, smooth, and easy. But the way his fingers curled loosely around the cigarette? That told a different story. A story of control. Of patience. Of warning.

“I let you leave earlier, didn’t I?” His voice was almost lazy, but there was something sharp beneath it. "That was me being generous."

A pause. Just long enough for the weight of his words to settle. Then—he exhaled, slow, deliberate. “Don’t start thinking my patience is endless”

The ember in his cigarette flared as he took another slow drag, the red glow sharp against the darkness of his gaze. Then—with a flick of his wrist—he snuffed it out in the ashtray beside him. The ember died instantly.

His gaze flickered back to you. Cold. Unshaken. "If you leave, I need to know where you’re going."

Your pulse kicked up. "Why?"

He tilted his head slightly, considering you. Then—he stood. And suddenly, the room felt smaller. "Because now people are watching you."

The words hit deeper than they should have.

"Because this world you just stepped into? It doesn’t care that you’re not part of it."

Another step. Slow. Deliberate.

“And because if something happens to you, it won’t be an accident.”

The air between you thickened, pressing heavily against your ribs. You weren’t stupid. You knew he was dangerous. Knew the world he lived in was built on power, fear, and control. But hearing it? Acknowledging it? That was different. You swallowed, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t let you catch your breath.

His voice dropped lower, just above a murmur—the kind of quiet that felt more lethal than anything else. He exhaled sharply through his nose, like something was pressing against the edges of his control.

His voice dipped lower, something slipping through the cracks. Raw. Unfiltered.

"If something happens to you, I—"

A sharp inhale. A flicker in his expression—a single misstep. Gone in a second.

You barely had time to process it before his smirk snapped back into place, quick, unrelenting.

"No attitude. And no more leaving without telling me where the fuck you’re going." He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "I let it slide tonight” His voice was low, even, but there was something final beneath it—something that left no room for argument. "Push your luck again, and you’ll see what happens. Got it?"

Your jaw clenched. You could feel it—the way he had already drawn the line for you, the way stepping over it would mean something. Would cost something. But still—you nodded.

A beat of silence.

Then—his smirk twitched. Like he had expected a fight. Like he almost wanted one. But then—it vanished altogether. His gaze dropped, flickering over you once, twice—slow, deliberate. Like he was putting something together, piece by piece, as if something wasn’t adding up.

The hoodie. A hoodie you didn’t leave in. The sleeves hung loose over your hands, swallowing you in a fabric that wasn’t yours. Your hair—messy, slightly tangled. A muscle in his jaw ticked. His fingers twitched at his side. Then—he stepped forward. Deliberate. Unhurried. A predator closing in.

You held your ground. Barely.

He stopped just short of you, close enough that you could smell the smoke clinging to his clothes, the faintest trace of cologne beneath it. His fingers lifted, grasping the edge of the hoodie sleeve, rubbing the fabric between his fingers.

Testing. Questioning.

“Where’d you get this?”

The words were deceptively soft. A slow drag of a knife over the skin. Your pulse hammered, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “The friend I was with.”

A shift. Subtle. Small. But you felt it. His grip on the hoodie tightened. His eyes darkened.

“Friend.” He repeated it slowly, rolling the word over his tongue, stretching it out—like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to swallow it or spit it back out. His thumb ghosted over the fabric before his fingers left it, his hand dropping back to his side. Then—his jaw flexed once, twice—before tilting his head. His gaze—sharp, assessing, cutting through you like glass.

“What’s their name?”

Your breath caught.

Bait.

You knew it. He knew it.

And yet—your lips parted, but no words came.

His smirk deepened. “No name?” A step forward. Too close.

You felt the heat radiating off him, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin.

“You know,” he murmured, voice dipping lower, silkier, “it’s a little weird, don’t you think?”

Your throat went dry. “What is?”

A hum. Low. Amused. Dangerous. His fingers barely grazed the hem of the hoodie. “The fact that you left in one thing…” His eyes dragged over you, slow, heavy-lidded. “…And came back in another.”

The weight of his stare sent something sharp curling in your stomach.

“That you smell like someone else’s cologne.”

Your pulse jumped.

He saw it. Felt it. And he liked it.

“Is this friend a boyfriend?”

The words hit like a flick of a knife. Quick. Testing.

“No. He’s just—” You stopped yourself. Swallowed, grip tightening around the sleeves of the hoodie. “He’s just a friend.”

He hummed like he wasn’t quite convinced. Then—he leaned in, voice lowering, tone shifting from casual mockery to something deeper, something laced with quiet intensity.

“Did he touch you?”

The breath you sucked in was sharp. Too sharp.

“Huh?”

His fingers skimmed higher. Slow. Barely-there touches. His smirk never wavered. “I asked if he touched you.”

You swallowed. “Why would that be your business?”

He tilted his head, searching. Waiting. Then—he leaned in. Close. Too close. His lips hovered near your ear, voice softer now, smoother, more covetous. “Everything about you is my business, doll.”

Your breath hitched.

And Tetsurou? He fucking felt it. His fingers brushed against the hem again—just once—before he stepped back. But the absence of his touch was just as sharp as the presence of it. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.

The silence between you stretched—thick, smothering, unforgiving. His fingers flexed at his side, his thumb lazily swiping over his phone screen, A brief pause. A decision was made. But his attention never left you.

Still waiting. Still watching. But he didn’t press. Didn’t demand an answer. He just let the weight of the unspoken words sit between you, curling around your ribs like something too heavy to carry—but impossible to let go.

A tight knot coiled in your chest.

He was playing with you.

You squared your shoulders, tilting your chin up just enough to meet his gaze without faltering. “You don’t own me.”

His smirk returned. Slow. Deliberate. But there was something cruel in it now. “No,” he murmured. “But I do own the space you stand in.” His head tilted, mocking curiosity. “And I like to know who’s been playing in my territory.”

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself not to react. Not to let him see the way your body tensed at his words.

His territory.

Like you were his—as if the decision had already been made for you. Your fingers curled into the sleeves of the hoodie, twisting the fabric between them. A second too long.

He noticed. The corner of his mouth twitched, a quiet exhale slipping through his lips. His gaze flickered lower, tracing the shape of you beneath the hoodie, the way it swallowed you up, covered you. The amusement in his expression deepened.

“So, your friend,” he drawled, stepping forward again, crowding the space between you until the only thing you could smell was him. “Was he good?”

The words were slow. Too slow. You swallowed, willing yourself not to react. Not to take the bait. “Good?”

His smirk grew. “Yeah,” his voice dipped, almost thoughtful. “I mean… you come back in his hoodie, smell like his cologne…hair all messy like someone had his hands in it…” His smirk deepened, sharp and slow. “So, did he fuck you?”

The words landed heavy. Like he wanted to see you flinch. Like he wanted to see if you’d break. Your jaw tightened. “No.”

A beat.

Then—his tongue flicked over his teeth, jaw flexing. Something unreadable passed over his face. A flicker of thought. A slow calculation. Then—a low chuckle.

“No.” He repeated it like he was tasting the word, testing it. “And I’m supposed to believe that?” His fingers brushed against the hem of the hoodie again, grazing your hip before pulling away.

You knew he felt the way your breath caught. You knew he enjoyed it. Your hands tightened into fists inside the sleeves. “Believe what you want.”

He hummed. A quiet, menacing sound. He didn’t respond. Just watched you. Like he was weighing something. Like he was deciding something. And then—

The corner of his mouth twitched. A slow, almost amused exhale slipped past his lips. "Oh, I will."

Silence stretched between you two until it was broken by the faint sound of heels clicking against the marble floor. Your stomach clenched. The air shattered. You turned toward the sound, your body already tensing.

And then—you saw her.

Tall. Blonde. Beautiful in an almost cruel way. The silk of her dress clung to her figure, shifting with every deliberate movement as if it had been made to fit her perfectly. Like she was made to belong in places like this.

In his space. With him.

Her hair cascaded over one shoulder, sleek and shining, not a strand out of place. The gloss on her lips wasn’t smudged, wasn’t bitten raw. She was put together. Effortless. And she looked at you like you were nothing.

Not with curiosity. Not with hostility. With indifference.

Like she had already decided you weren’t worth noticing. A knot formed in your core. Something sharp and unfamiliar crawled up your spine, lodging itself deep in your ribs.

You weren’t stupid. You had no right to be mad, no reason to tighten your grip on the hoodie sleeves, but—she wasn’t just some girl. You could feel it. See it. She didn’t just know him. She knew this place. And when her lips parted—the final nail in the coffin.

“You texted,” she murmured, voice lilting with something sweet—too sweet.

Fake.

Tetsurou backed up slightly, putting just enough distance between you and him, completely at ease, completely in control. His smirk deepened. “Yeah.” His voice was lower now, smoother—like he had just won. Like you were the only one with something to lose. Your stomach clenched, something sick curling in your chest.

Her eyes flickered to you for just a second. A second too long. Not a greeting. Not curiosity. A silent appraisal. And then—she turned to him fully. “What do you need me for?” She was waiting.

And Tetsurou?

He let the silence stretch. Long enough for you to feel it. Long enough for your heart to hammer inside your chest. Then—he moved. Right past you. Straight to her. Your breath caught. She didn’t even blink. Didn’t react. Didn’t hesitate. She just smiled up at him, waiting for his next move.

He didn’t even hesitate either. His fingers skimmed her hip, slow, deliberate, easy. He leaned in, murmuring something low against her ear, something meant only for her. You didn’t hear the words. Didn’t need to. Because the message was already clear.

This was what you had walked into. This was who he was. This was what he did. And the worst part? He was watching you the entire time. Like he wanted to see what you would do. Like he wanted to see if you’d break. The weight of the hoodie on your frame felt heavier now. Your fingers curled into the fabric again, gripping it so tightly your knuckles ached.

The silk of her dress caught the light as she shifted closer to him, tilting her head slightly, waiting. Your breath hitched. You needed to leave.

Now.

But his hand lingered on her waist, fingers just barely brushing the fabric of her dress. Not possessive. Not tender. Something worse. Calculated.

And then—he looked at you. A flicker of something passed through his gaze. Fleeting. Quick. But it was there. Like he was watching for something. Like he was waiting for something.

Your throat tightened. You refused to give it to him. Swallowing the lump forming at the back of your throat, you turned on your heel. Didn’t run. Didn’t let yourself falter.

You forced your feet to move, not toward the exit—but toward the stairs. Each step felt too loud, the soft padding of your shoes against the cold marble amplified in the quiet tension that stretched between you and the scene you were leaving behind.

You swore you could still feel his gaze, dragging over your retreating form like a brand that hasn’t cooled.

And then—a quiet chuckle. Low. Amused. Something dark curling at the edges. You didn’t stop. Didn’t turn around. Didn’t give him the satisfaction. But the sound followed you. Chasing you up the stairs that had not felt this long before. Or maybe it was just the weight curling in your stomach.

Halfway up, you heard her voice. Sweet. Laced with something light, teasing. Meant to be heard.

“You missed me, didn’t you.”

Your fingers clenched into the sleeves of the hoodie. Don’t stop. His voice followed, smooth and unbothered.

“Yeah.”

You forced your legs to keep moving. Almost there. She giggled softly, and then, quieter, but still loud enough to reach you—because it was meant to.

“Could’ve just waited for me in bed, you know.?”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t stop. Didn’t glance back. Didn’t react. But your grip on the railing tightened.

And then—footsteps.

His.

Your pulse spiked. He was moving, the heavy sound of his loafers clicking against the floor. Unhurried. Measured. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he knew exactly where you were going. And then—another pair. Lighter. Softer. In sync.

Hers.

Your breath caught. You didn’t have to turn around. Didn’t have to see it. Because you already knew. They were walking together. Heading your way.

You swallowed, shoving open the door to your room before either of them could say anything else—before you could see whatever came next. The second you stepped inside, you shut the door.

Not slam. Not locked. Just closed.

And the silence that followed was deafening. Your hands curled into the sleeves of the hoodie, the fabric soft between your fingers. Something you never should have worn in the first place. And yet—your jaw clenched. You weren’t going to let him get to you. You weren’t.

But as you slid down against the door, knees pulling to your chest, the cold realization sank deep into your ribs.

He already had.

The silence of your room pressed in around you, thick, suffocating, drowning out everything—except for one thing.

Her voice.

"Could’ve just waited for me in bed, you know."

A fresh wave of nausea curled in your stomach. The words clung to you, clawed at your skin, and settled deep in your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut. Willed them away. But they stayed. And then—

Lev’s voice. A whisper in the car. A warning disguised as nothing.

"He's not gonna like this.”

You exhaled sharply, head tilting back against the door. Lev was right. Tetsurou hadn’t liked it. Not one bit. But this wasn’t just about that. This was a power play. A punishment for something you didn’t even do. Because he had taken in your appearance and had assumed the worst.

He hadn’t believed you. He hadn’t let your explanation matter. He had just reacted. Texted her. Brought her here. Made sure you saw. And now, while they were just down the hall, their voices carrying through the space between you, their presence lingering, pressing in—

You were here. Alone. Your fingers curled into the sleeves of the hoodie, gripping it tightly. It wasn’t yours. It was meant to be a tether, something to ground you, to remind you of a world outside of this one. Of warmth, of love, of Koushi. But now?

Now, it felt like a mistake. Like an open wound left exposed, a reminder of something Tetsurou had just ripped away without even knowing what it meant.

Laughter—hers—floated through the silence, soft, muffled by walls but still clear enough. The quiet murmur of his voice followed, smooth, unreadable.

And then—footsteps.

Not distant. Not fading. Moving. Pausing. Settling. A rustle. A shift.

The faintest creak of the mattress. The bedroom door shut with a quiet click.

The sounds echoed.

A slow, simmering pressure built in your chest, clawing downward. You shouldn’t care. You had no right to care. But as you sat there, alone, hoodie clenched between your fingers, the truth burned through you like a sinking weight.

He wanted to hurt you.

And he had.

And Tetsurou?

He fucking knew it.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, fingers curled tight around the fabric at your sleeves, knuckles aching from the pressure. The room felt too small, the air too thick, pressing down on your chest until breathing became a conscious effort.

Beyond the window, the city stretched toward morning, streetlights flickering out one by one as the dark bled into dawn.

The first thing Kuroo registered was warmth. A weight pressed against his chest—soft, familiar. A leg was thrown over his, blonde hair fanned across the pillow. The scent of expensive perfume clung to the sheets, heady and overwhelming.

Alisa.

His jaw ticked. For a second, he just stared at the ceiling, last night bleeding back into him like a slow, creeping ache.

You. That fucking hoodie. The way you looked at him—like you didn’t know him. Like he had become something different in your eyes.

And now?

Now, he was here. With Alisa in his bed. A move he’d made deliberately. A move that should have settled something inside him. But it didn’t.

Alisa stirred, pressing closer, nails tracing lazy patterns over his stomach. “Mmm,” she hummed, voice thick with sleep. Then, after a pause—her voice sharpened slightly. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

Kuroo tensed. She wasn’t teasing. She was testing.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t react. Just exhaled sharply, swinging his legs off the bed. His hands dragged down his face before reaching for his sweatpants, shoving one leg through, then the other.

Alisa rolled onto her side, head propped up on her palm, watching him. “Guess that changed.”

His fingers curled slightly around the waistband of his sweatpants. He needed a shower. Needed to get out of this room.

Alisa studied him carefully. “Lev told me how you threatened him over her.”

Stillness.

The words landed like a flick of a knife. Kuroo’s body went rigid.

Alisa caught it. Her smirk curled as she sat up, hair falling over her bare shoulder. “That’s a first,” she murmured, studying him. “Didn’t think you cared enough to pull shit like that.”

His fingers clenched around the sheet.

Alisa tilted her head, watching him like she had just stumbled onto something interesting. “Did she do something to piss you off last night?”

Kuroo stood up. Sharp. Abrupt. His fingers twitched at his sides, jaw flexing as he grabbed his shirt off the floor. Measured. Controlled. “I’ve got shit to do.”

Alisa blinked, waiting—like she expected more.

But Kuroo didn’t offer anything. Didn’t explain. Didn’t care to. “Do me a favor,” he said, voice low, clipped. “Be gone by the time I get out of the shower.”

Silence.

Alisa blinked. Like she hadn’t quite heard him right. Then—slowly—her lips curved. Not a smile. Something else. Something sharper. "Huh." She leaned back against the headboard, studying him, her nails tapping idly against her thigh. Watching him like she was putting something together.

She exhaled, then—deliberately, lazily—slid out of bed. She didn’t scramble to grab her clothes, didn’t rush to leave. Instead, she stretched, taking her time, her movements slow and fluid. Making a show of it.

When she finally reached for her dress, she paused—just for a second—fingertips grazing the fabric before glancing back over her shoulder. "Guess a girl can get under your skin after all."

Kuroo didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just kept his focus on the shirt in his hands, jaw locked tight.

Alisa’s smirk deepened. But she didn’t push. Didn’t need to. She had already won. With a quiet hum, she slipped her dress over her head, smoothing out the silk as she stepped toward the door. No rush. No hesitation. And then—just as she reached for the handle— she tossed one last look over her shoulder.

“Let me know when you’re done pretending she doesn’t matter.”

Click.

The door shut behind her. The silence that followed was different than before. Hollow. Taut. Suffocating. Kuroo exhaled slowly through his nose, pressing his palms against his face.

Fucking hell.

His head tilted back, eyes catching on the ceiling, but all he saw was you. Your expression last night. The way you didn’t fight back. Didn’t say anything. The cold, empty weight of it clawed at his ribs.

And for the first time in a long time—he knew he fucked up.

With a sharp inhale, he made his way to the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, locking out everything but the sound of his heavy, unwanted thoughts.

The bathroom filled with steam, curling against the mirrors, clinging to the tile. Kuroo let the water scorch down his back, head tilted forward, fingers braced against the marble wall. His eyes squeezed shut.

The scent of Alisa still clung to his skin. Cloying. Suffocating. He scrubbed at his arms, and his chest like he could wash away the weight pressing into him. Like he could erase the taste of last night—the choice he made.

It didn’t work. Your face still lingered in the back of his mind. Not angry. Not hurt. Just… blank. That was worse. A muscle in his jaw ticked as he exhaled sharply through his nose. He didn’t know what he was expecting. That you’d lash out? Yell at him? That you’d push back, give him something—anything—to work with? But you didn’t. You just turned away.

His fingers curled into fists, forehead pressing briefly against the cool tile. That fucking hoodie. He had been so sure—so convinced he knew what he was looking at.

But now? Now, the certainty didn’t sit right.

The water ran hot, but his thoughts ran hotter. By the time he shut it off, stepping out into the thick steam, the weight in his chest had settled into something cold. Heavy.

Something was wrong.

He grabbed a towel, running it through his hair once before tossing it onto the counter. A glance in the mirror—his reflection stared back, unreadable.

Tch.

He didn’t waste any more time. The second he stepped out of the bathroom, he was moving. Down the hall. To your door.

A beat.

Then—his knuckles rapped against the wood.

Silence.

His stomach twisted. He knocked again.

Nothing.

The unease crawled up his spine as he tested the handle.

Unlocked.

The door pushed open with an ease that made his pulse kick up. The room was still.

The bed? Untouched.

His gaze swept over the room, scanning the space his men had furnished for while you were out last night. It looked different now. Lived in. His eyes caught on the new additions—the personal touches that hadn’t been there before. The photos. Neatly arranged on the dresser.

He stepped closer, his fingers ghosted over the edge of a frame. A younger you, with a woman and a man. Parents.

His gaze locked onto another. A gray-haired man. Grinning. Arms slung over your shoulders, casual, familiar. Too familiar.

He knew this guy. Had seen him with you before. Something sharp coiled in Kuroo’s stomach. A flicker of something ugly. Jealousy. His jaw tightened. He had no fucking right. He knew that. But it didn’t stop the feeling from creeping in, slow and insidious, settling into his chest like a weight he couldn’t shake. His fingers curled tighter around the frame, the growing tension pulling him back to reality.

Where the fuck were you?

His movements were sharp as he turned on his heel, heading downstairs, hoping—expecting—to find you somewhere in the penthouse. But you weren’t. The only thing waiting for him was a note. Pinned to the fridge. Small. Unassuming. But somehow, it felt heavier than it should have.

His fingers plucked it from the stainless steel, scanning the words once. Twice.

At work. The driver took me. Don’t send a guard.

No snark. No fight. No anything. Just cold. Impersonal. Kuroo exhaled sharply through his nose. His grip tightened around the note. Something deep inside him twisted. Not anger. Not jealousy. Something else. And he fucking hated it.

He grabbed his phone, sending out a single message."Both of you. Penthouse. Now."

Minutes later, Lev sat stiffly across from him on the barstool, fidgeting under Kuroo’s scrutiny. Kenma, on the other hand, was unbothered—leaning against the island, eyes flicking over his laptop, already knowing this was important.

Kuroo exhaled sharply through his nose, tapping once against his knee. “The guy she was with last night.” His voice was even. Too even. “Tell me everything.”

Lev hesitated. “Uh… what about him?”

Kuroo’s stare hardened. “Start with where you guys went”

Lev swallowed. “Some house about thirty minutes away.” He reached for his phone. “I still have the address in my phone—”

Kuroo waved a hand. “We’ll get to that. Now—describe him.”

Lev blinked. “Oh. Uh, gray-haired dude? Looked a little older than her, but not by much.” He scratched the back of his head. “They seemed… close.”

Something coiled tight in Kuroo’s chest. A sharp breath. A muscle in his jaw jumped. Then—he was on his feet.

“Uh, boss?” Lev called after him, confused.

Kuroo ignored him, moving fast, his feet carrying him back upstairs before he could think. The framed photos. His fingers closed around the one that had caught his attention earlier. His grip tightened as he stared at it. The anger built in his chest, burning hotter.

He turned on his heel, heading back downstairs, the photo gripped tightly in his hand. He slammed the frame onto the countertop, the quiet thud of the glass a harsh contrast to the storm inside him. “Is this him?” His voice was low, dangerous.

Lev blinked, glancing down. Then—a nod. “Yeah. That’s the guy.”

Kuroo exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. That slow, insidious feeling continued to gnaw at him, coiling deep in his chest, refusing to loosen its grip.

Kenma, still leaning against the counter, finally spoke. His tone was unreadable, but his gaze flickered between the photo and Kuroo like he already knew this was about to be something.

“Want me to pull up the address?”

Kuroo’s jaw tightened. “Do it.” Kenma’s fingers flew over his keys, the only sound in the room was the quiet tap of keys.

A beat of silence.

Then—his brows lifted slightly. “Huh.”

Kuroo’s patience snapped. “What.”

Kenma didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his laptop toward Kuroo.

Sugawara Family Residence.

But something else.

Occupants: Koushi Sugawara.

Kuroo’s stomach dropped.

Sugawara.

The name slammed into him like a freight train. He’d read it before. When he looked into you when he skimmed through your past.

He just hadn’t fucking thought.

The hoodie. The fucking hoodie.

It didn’t belong to just some random guy. It didn’t belong to a fucking boyfriend.

It belonged to a man who was family.

Kuroo clenched his jaw so tight it ached. His fingers twitched at his side before curling into a tight fist, knuckles whitening.

And then—his arm jerked. His fist swung up— toward the counter, toward the wall—

But he stopped.

Just short.

Fingers shaking. Breath coming fast, uneven.

A sharp exhale left his lips, ragged, unsteady. He dragged a hand down his face, pressing his palm hard against his temple like he could scrub the weight of this realization out of his skull. But it didn’t budge. It sat there, cold and immovable, pressing against his ribs, heavy, unshakable.

He had thought you were trying to provoke him. That you wanted to make him jealous. But you weren’t flaunting anything. You were just holding onto something real. Something that had nothing to do with him.

And he’d fucking ripped it apart without a second thought

Kuroo leaned back against the wall, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. His heart hammered against his ribs, too loud, too fucking fast.

He had fucked up. More than he realized. More than he fucking thought possible.

Kenma’s gaze flickered between the screen and Kuroo. A slow blink. “What did you do?”

Kuroo’s jaw tensed. He inhaled sharply. “Something I shouldn’t have.”

Kenma clicked his tongue, watching Kuroo’s expression shift. “Damn.” A pause. Then—flat, but edged with something dry. “You really fucked up if you’re admitting a mistake.”

Kuroo clenched his jaw.

Kenma wasn’t wrong.

This was worse than he fucking thought.

Kuroo leaned towards the counter, phone in hand, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. The weight in his chest was unbearable now.

You were gone.

Not gone, gone. But you had left the penthouse before he could see you before he could fix anything, before he could even talk to you. That wasn’t an accident. It was a choice. One that told him exactly how deep of a hole he had dug.

He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders back before typing out a message and hitting send.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. The sound barely cut through the fog clinging to your mind, but the vibration sent a dull pulse through your hip. You exhaled sharply, rubbing at your temple, willing away the exhaustion pressing in at your skull.

Lack of sleep was catching up with you. Hard.

You hadn’t slept well the night before moving into Kuroo’s penthouse—your mind restless, unable to settle after your world had flipped upside down overnight. And last night? Last night you didn’t sleep at all. Not after what he did. Not after the scene he had so carefully crafted for you to see.

You should’ve known better than to care. You should’ve.

But your body didn’t get the memo. The pit in your stomach hadn’t left, a slow-sinking weight pressing against your ribs, growing heavier with every replayed moment. Every breath. Every memory of his smirk curling at the edges of something cruel.

Your phone buzzed again.

With a slow breath, you pulled it out, the screen too bright against your tired eyes. The message sat there, clear, simple.

Tetsurou: Let me send a guard.

Your fingers tightened around the phone. You stared at the words longer than you wanted to admit. It wasn’t an apology. Not directly. Not with words. But this? This was him saying I still care. I still want to keep you safe.

And maybe that should’ve meant something. Maybe, on another day, it would have. But today?

Today, you remembered last night.

The calculated way he let you see him with her. The way his fingers had brushed against her waist, the low murmur of words meant just for her, but loud enough for you to hear.

You inhaled sharply, chest tightening with something sharp, something cold.

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard. A thousand different responses flickered through your head—ones that bit, ones that deflected, ones that asked why.

But in the end, you only sent one word.

No.

You didn’t wait for a reply. Didn’t give him the chance to argue. Instead, you locked the phone and shoved it back into your pocket, the weight of it suddenly unbearable.

A deep, tired sigh slipped past your lips.

"You look like you're about to pass out. And if you do, I’m not resuscitating you."

The dry voice pulled you back into reality, and you blinked up to find Shirabu staring at you, arms crossed, unimpressed as ever.

You huffed out a weak, humorless laugh, shaking your head. "Good to know where we stand Shirabu."

Shirabu raised an eyebrow. "You look like you’ve been hit by a truck. And I’d rather not have someone who looks like roadkill assisting in surgery today."

"Feel like it, too. But I’m fine."

He clicked his tongue, eyes scanning over you like he was diagnosing an illness. "Maybe you should just go home before you pass out on someone's open chest. Kind of a bad look."

A short, humorless breath left you. "Nice to know you care."

"I'm serious." He clicked his tongue, arms crossing over his chest. "You look like shit."

The bluntness should have irritated you. But it didn’t. Because this was normal. A coworker making an observation. A cold, pragmatic assessment. Logic.

Not control.

For a moment, a split second, you felt something unfamiliar pressing against the exhaustion in your chest—relief. Because this world was familiar. The pace of it. The order. The simplicity of a tired doctor telling you to go the hell home.

It was grounding. It was safe.

It should have been enough.

You let out another breath, rolling your shoulders. "Not happening. I just need to keep busy. I’ll stick to rounds, checking on patients—nothing major."

Shirabu didn’t look convinced. "Fine. But I better not find you faceplanted in some supply closet." He shook his head before heading off, leaving you standing in the middle of the hallway.

The moment he disappeared, that false sense of normalcy collapsed. The exhaustion wrapped around you like a second skin, suffocating, clinging to the edges of your lungs.

You exhaled sharply, fingers curling into the fabric of your scrub sleeves. You should’ve been relieved. You had shut Tetsurou down. You had drawn the line.

So why the hell did it still feel like you couldn’t breathe?

The hospital air was always thick—antiseptic, muted voices, the quiet hum of exhaustion clinging to overworked doctors and nurses.

But this? This was different.

It started as a twinge. A whisper of unease slithering down your spine, subtle but unshakable. You were being watched.

You ignored it at first. Too tired. Too drained.

Your body running on autopilot as you moved through the halls, doing exactly what you told Shirabu—keeping busy.

But the feeling didn’t fade. If anything, it got worse. Too obvious. Too intentional. Like whoever it was wanted you to know they were there.

Your gaze flickered to the side—casual, practiced, not obvious.

And there he was. A man, leaning against the far wall, just out of reach of the passing nurses and patients. His frame was relaxed, posture at ease, but something about it felt off. Too calculated. Too still.

Dressed entirely in black. Hat pulled low. Long sleeves concealing his arms, hands tucked neatly into his pockets.

That wasn’t an accident. Your stomach twisted. One of Tetsurou’s men.

Of course.

Your exhaustion snapped into something sharper. Anger burned through the fatigue, simmering beneath your skin until you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Tetsurou didn’t take your ‘no’ seriously. The audacity of him. Sending someone to stalk you. To watch you. To make sure you weren’t slipping beyond his grasp.

You saw red. You didn’t hesitate. Didn’t stop to think.

You marched across the hallway, shoulders squared, heart hammering, and shoved every ounce of anger into your voice.

He didn’t react, didn’t shift, didn’t move—just let you approach, let you get close.

Fine. You’d give him something to report back to his boss.

"Seriously?" Your voice came sharp, low enough to avoid drawing attention, but full of venom. "You’re not even trying to be subtle now? Tell your boss he can go fuck himself."

Silence.

The man tilted his head, studying you, and something about the way he did it made your skin crawl.

Not arrogant. Not flustered. Not caught off guard.

Just… interested.

"That’s a lot of anger," he murmured, voice smooth, unreadable. "He must really want to keep an eye on you."

Your breath hitched—not at his words, but at the way he said them. Carefully. Calculated.

The unease settled deep in your chest, pressing against your ribs like a slow-growing weight.

You narrowed your eyes, jaw tightening. "Tetsurou doesn’t need to keep an eye on me," you snapped, hating the way his name tasted in your mouth. Hating the way this man’s presence made you feel like you were back under his thumb. "So you can tell him to back off."

The man just smirked.

"Noted," he murmured. And then—he just walked away.

But the unease didn’t.

It clung to you. Crawled under your skin.

It followed you through the halls, through the minutes that stretched endlessly, through the exhaustion that should have dragged you under but didn’t. Because the worst part?

You weren’t tired anymore. You were wired.

Your body was running off something sharper than adrenaline. The feeling of being watched hadn’t faded—not really. Even now, hours later, it lingered, pressing against your spine, refusing to let go.

That man. His voice. His smirk.

Your mind kept circling back to it, turning over details you hadn’t processed in the moment. The way he didn’t blink when you snapped at him. The way he seemed amused by your anger. The way he had walked away so easily.

You shivered, rubbing your arms as you made your way toward the emergency room. Your shift was nearly over and you were hanging on by a thread.

One more round of patient checks, then you could get the hell out of here. Then you could breathe.

But just as you stepped past the dimly lit corridor near the storage rooms—

An arm shot out.

Before you could react, a strong grip curled around your wrist, yanking you sideways.

Your breath caught—

The world tilted—

And then you were shoved into the darkness of a supply closet, your back hitting the shelving as the door clicked shut.

Tetsurou.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You barely had a second to process before anger surged through you, sharp and immediate.

The final fucking straw.

"You’ve gotta be kidding me," you snapped, exhaustion collapsing into frustration as you pushed off the wall, stepping toward him.

Tetsurou didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

Just stood there, towering over you, watching.

Too still.

Your chest heaved, the heat in your veins burning hotter.

"Why can’t you just leave me alone?" Your voice dropped, but the bite remained. "Is this fun for you? Dragging me into your world, making me second-guess everything—making sure I can’t turn a corner without feeling like you’re right there?"

Nothing.

No reaction.

Just golden eyes locked onto yours, unreadable, waiting.

That only pissed you off more.

Because the truth was—you weren’t even sure if you were talking about just him anymore. The feeling had been there all day. Lingering. Pressing against the back of your mind like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

And Tetsurou?

He wasn’t even reacting.

Your fingers curled into fists. "Say something!"

Nothing.

"Fine," you snapped. "Then get the hell out of my way—"

"We’re leaving."

Your whole body locked up. The words were calm. Final. Not a demand. Not a request.

Just a fact.

Your nails dug into your palms, anger clawing at your throat. "You don’t get to decide that."

His gaze didn’t waver. "You’re done for the night."

A humorless laugh slipped past your lips. "Are you kidding me? You can’t just—"

"You’re stitching someone up," he cut in, voice like steel.

Your stomach flipped. "What?"

"That’s why I came here." He exhaled sharply, like this was just another thing piling onto the already fucked-up night. "One of my men took a hit. I need you to take care of it. Now."

You stared at him. Fury still burning. Mind still spinning. And for a moment—you considered saying no.

But the look in his eyes? Said now was not the time.

"Fine," you muttered, voice clipped. "Let’s go."

He didn’t respond. Just moved.

When he stepped past you, his shoulder brushed yours. Firm. Intentional. And then—his hand ghosted against your hip.

The lightest touch. Barely there. But it sent a shockwave through you.

A warning. A claim.

Your pulse jumped, frustration crackling beneath your skin. The cramped space felt even smaller now, his presence filling every inch of it. Too warm. Too inescapable.

His fingers curled around the doorknob. He didn’t look at you as he pulled it open.

And just like that—the fight was over.

For now.

But the heat in your chest hadn’t faded.

The tension sat thick and suffocating between you, trailing behind as you followed him out of the hospital, past the sterile white walls and fluorescent lights, out into the night.

You expected him to take you straight to wherever he had planned—wherever his injured man was waiting.

But instead—

The car slid through the Tokyo streets, past the flashing neon signs, past the familiar grunge of the city’s underbelly—until the driver pulled the car to a slow, smooth stop.

Your brows furrowed. This wasn’t what you expected. Not some dimly lit, back-alley hideout. Not some run-down warehouse or a shady underground room. Instead—Tetsurou had brought you to a restaurant.

And not just any restaurant—one of the most exclusive izakayas in Tokyo.

The kind of place where the rich came to sip sake and pretend they weren’t the worst people in the city.

The moment his car pulled up to the entrance, your irritation—already boiling under your skin—flared.

"What the hell is this?" you muttered, shooting him a look as the valet opened your door.

Tetsurou ignored you. Not unusual.

But when he stepped out, fixing the cuffs of his suit like this was just another night out, you felt something snap.

You barely had a second to push the door open yourself before he was already moving, walking ahead like he expected you to follow.

You did—but not quietly. The second you caught up to him, you leaned in, voice low but sharp.

"I thought you said—"

He cut you off before you could finish, his voice smooth, final. "Come on."

Like that was supposed to be an answer. Your jaw clenched. Your fingers curled into fists.

No explanation. No warning. Just the expectation that you’d go along with whatever bullshit he had planned.

You could’ve stopped walking. Could’ve dug your heels into the pavement and forced him to actually tell you what the hell was going on. But instead, you followed.

Angry. Fuming. But you followed.

The second you stepped through the doors, the heat of frustration crashed against the cool, controlled atmosphere.

It was warm inside—too warm.

Low jazz hummed softly over the quiet clink of glasses. The smell of grilled wagyu and sake filled the air, masking the undercurrent of expensive cologne and cigarettes. Every detail was meticulously designed to feel inviting.

And yet—you felt nothing but unease.

Because he didn’t look around. Didn’t glance at a menu. Didn’t acknowledge the waitstaff. Didn’t even pretend like this was a normal night out.

Your stomach twisted. Something was off. You leaned closer, voice hushed but sharp.

"Tetsurou—"

But before you could finish, his hand pressed lightly against the small of your back.

Not enough to push. Not enough to force.

But just enough to make you move.

Your eyes flashed. You opened your mouth to snap at him—but then he was leading you past the tables, past the bar, straight toward the back of the restaurant.

Straight toward a staff-only door. Your breath hitched. Your pulse jumped.

But Tetsurou? He just pushed it open. And just like that—you weren’t in the restaurant anymore.

Everything changed.

The second the door shut behind you, the warmth of the restaurant vanished—replaced by something colder, quieter, heavier. The hallway stretched narrow and sterile, lined with unmarked doors. The walls were too clean. The silence too suffocating.

The smell of cedar and grilled steak? Gone.

Now, the air smelled like disinfectant and metal. You dug your heels in, finally stopping.

"Where the fuck are we?"

He didn’t answer. Didn’t pause. Didn’t even acknowledge your anger.

He just kept walking, taking you past crates of imported liquor, past a door that hummed with the faint sound of machinery, down a flight of stairs that smelled like steel and blood.

Your hands clenched at your sides. Your whole body screamed at you to turn around. But you didn’t. Because deep down, you knew—whatever was waiting for you down there needed your help.

The moment your foot hit the bottom step, your mouth dropped. This wasn’t a storage room. This wasn’t a kitchen backroom. This was something else entirely

A single, worn leather couch sat against the wall, stained darker in places you didn’t want to think about. A heavy metal table occupied the center of the room, surrounded by neatly stocked cabinets filled with medical supplies that had no business being this well-organized in a basement.

And slumped against the table—his shirt peeled back, bleeding from a deep gash across his ribs—was a man.

The sight of blood—so much blood—yanked you back into reality. Your jaw locked. Your pulse pounded.

Tetsurou just exhaled, slow and easy, like this was routine. Like the blood pooling onto the table didn’t faze him. Like a man bleeding out in a basement was just another Tuesday.

"Fix him."

That was all he said. Low. Even. Like this wasn’t up for debate. Like this was just something you were expected to do.

Your blood boiled. Your vision blurred at the edges, anger pressing against your skull like a vice. You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to be in the basement of a restaurant, stitching up criminals, pretending like this was normal.

And you sure as hell weren’t supposed to be doing it while Tetsurou stood there, silent, acting like nothing was wrong.

Your fingers curled into fists. You should have argued. Should have said something.

Instead, you stormed forward, snatched a pair of gloves off the tray, and got to work.

If he wanted this done? Fine. But you weren’t doing it gently.

The silence stretched thick, suffocating.

You moved quickly—too quickly. Every motion was sharp, precise, filled with an unspoken fury you had no other way to express.

Clean the wound. Disinfect. Prep the needle.

You worked like a machine, ignoring the way the man beneath you tensed as you pressed down a little too hard.

"Jesus," he hissed, body jerking slightly. "Watch it—"

"Then stop moving," you snapped, your voice clipped and cold.

He grunted but fell silent.

From across the room, you felt Tetsurou watching.

You didn’t care. Didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t turn. Didn’t give him the reaction he was waiting for.

Instead, you focused on the thread between your fingers, on the needle piercing skin, on the rhythm of stitching something back together— because at least this was something you could control.

The second stitch went in. Then the third. The silence pressed in tighter. You knew Tetsurou wasn’t going to speak first.

But you weren’t going to break either.

You pulled the last stitch tight, snipping the excess thread with more force than necessary.

"Done."

Your voice came flat, clipped, as you ripped off the bloodied gloves and tossed them onto the metal tray beside you.

The man on the table exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Damn, that was fast. You do this often or somethin’?"

You ignored him. Didn’t look at Tetsurou. Didn’t wait for approval.

You turned, already heading for the stairs, body rigid with unspoken words. Your hands curled into fists at your sides, anger still simmering beneath your skin—sharp, suffocating, unrelenting.

This was too much. All of it. This wasn’t your world. And yet, here you were.

Again.

But the moment your hand touched the railing—

The sound of your name stopped you cold.

Low. Even. Just enough to make the air feel heavier. You didn’t turn. Didn’t speak. Just waited. Another long pause.

"You did good."

The words landed differently than they should have. Maybe it was the way they came quieter, closer—like a secret meant for you alone. Maybe it was the way the air seemed heavier between you, the way his fingers brushed against your wrist, fleeting, almost unintentional.

Almost.

For a second—just a breath—you froze.

Because it wasn’t just approval. There was something else laced in his voice, something rare, something that made it harder to swallow down the frustration burning in your chest.

And that? That made you angrier.

Because he was acting like this this was just another night. Like nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t dragged you deeper into something you had no escape from.

Your breath came sharp, clipped, as you yanked your wrist away, ignoring the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to hold on.

And you hesitated.

Just for a half-second. Just long enough to feel the weight of what just happened, to let it settle deep in your ribs.

Then you turned—abrupt, almost too fast.

The tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight.

But you didn’t let him get to you.

Didn’t look back.

Didn’t acknowledge the weight in his voice.

You just walked away. Out the door. Into the car.

Without a word.

The silence stretched. Not peaceful. Not empty. Thick. Suffocating.

The kind of silence that sat heavy on your chest, pressing down, making it impossible to breathe.

You kept your eyes on the city lights, arms crossed so tightly your nails dug into your skin. Tetsurou hadn’t said a word since leaving that basement.

Good.

Because if he had, you weren’t sure what would’ve come out of your mouth.

Your chest still burned. Anger, frustration, something sharp and bitter curling beneath your ribs. Too much had happened, too fast.

Tetsurou and that woman.

Him dragging you away from work like it was nothing.

But beneath all of that, something deeper sat heavy in your stomach.

That basement.

You knew it existed. This was the deal—stitching up criminals, keeping quiet, playing your role.

But what unsettled you the most wasn’t the blood. Wasn’t the sterile tools lined up so neatly. Not that the room was a place where men either bled out or survived. But how easily you had stepped into it.

You had just done it. Like it was natural. Like you belonged.

And whether you wanted to admit it or not—

You did.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Maybe you should have asked more questions. Maybe you should have hesitated. Maybe you should have told him no from the beginning.

But the moment you saw all that blood, the moment you heard Tetsurou’s voice—

"Fix him."

You didn’t freeze. Didn’t flinch. And that?

That should have scared you.

Another minute passed.

Then another.

And still, he didn’t say a word. Didn’t glance at you. Didn’t even shift in his seat. Like he was waiting. Like he knew the storm inside you was nowhere close to settling. Finally, the pressure cracked.

"You could at least say something." Your voice came out sharp, cutting through the weight of the silence like a blade.

His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror—just for a second—before settling back on the road. The driver didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t shift, didn’t react.

"Not sure what you want me to say."

His tone wasn’t teasing. Wasn’t mocking. And that only pissed you off more.

"You always have something to say." Your glare burned into the side of his face. "But now? Now you’re just gonna sit there and pretend like nothing happened?"

Finally, he exhaled through his nose. A slow, measured breath. "What do you want me to say?" His voice was calm. Too calm. Like he was choosing his words carefully.

You scoffed. "I don’t know, Tetsurou. Maybe an apology?"

Nothing. No reaction. Not even a flicker of guilt. Your pulse pounded in your ears.

"You just expect me to go along with all of this?"

His fingers tightened around the door handle, leather creaking under his grip.

Still, he said nothing. The weight in your chest grew heavier.

He wasn’t going to argue. He wasn’t going to fight you on this. Because he didn’t regret a damn thing.

Your jaw clenched. Your stomach twisted. You turned away, pressing your forehead against the cool glass of the window, trying to shove down the frustration clawing at your ribs.

You weren’t sure how much time passed after that. It could have been minutes. It could have been the entire ride. But when the car finally slowed to a stop, you didn’t wait for him to say anything.

The second the locks clicked open—you shoved the door and stepped out.

Without another glance at him, you walked inside .

The elevator ride up was silent.

Suffocating.

You stood stiff beside him, arms crossed so tightly it almost hurt, frustration radiating off you in waves.

Tetsurou? He was unreadable.

Expression calm. Posture relaxed. But his fingers twitched—just slightly, just enough to betray him. A small movement. Almost unnoticeable.

Almost.

Because Tetsurou never fidgeted.

The second the elevator doors slid open, you moved. Straight for the stairs. Straight for the one place in this penthouse that wasn’t his. But before you could take another step—

"Stop."

The word wasn’t loud. But it didn’t have to be.

It sank into your spine, curling around your ribs, pulling you to a standstill before you could think better of it.

Your jaw clenched. Fingers curled into fists.

Slowly, you turned, fire still burning in your chest. "What?"

His gaze locked onto yours. Steady. Sharp.

"We’re talking."

A bitter laugh slipped past your lips. "Now you want to talk?"

His jaw tightened. "Yes."

Something twisted in your stomach. Because for the first time all night—Tetsurou actually looked like he knew he fucked up.

Good. You hoped he felt it.

"You don’t get to decide when we talk." Your voice came sharp, seething. "You don’t get to rip me out of my job, drag me across the city, shove me into your fucking world—"

Before you could take another breath—

Tetsurou moved.

Fast. Decisive.

Your back hit the wall. Not hard. Not rough. Just enough to make you feel it. Your breath caught—not from fear, but from the sudden heat of his presence.

Too close now.

His hand pressed against the wall beside your head, caging you in—not to trap, not to intimidate, but to make you look at him.

His voice dropped, low and controlled. "You think I dragged you into this?"

Your chest heaved.

Not from exhaustion. From something else.

You hated him for being this close—

Hated that you could smell his cologne, sharp with a hint of smoke and blood. Hated that the fire curling in your stomach couldn’t drown out the way his body heat bled into yours. Hated that even now, with everything burning between you, you still felt the electric trace of his fingers skimming over your sleeve, barely there, but enough to make something shiver up your spine.

"Move."

He didn’t.

He didn’t smirk. Didn’t tease.

He just looked at you.

Waiting.

You shoved against his chest—but he didn’t budge.

"Get out of my way."

His gaze didn’t waver.

"Not until you listen."

You could feel his breath now.

It brushed against your cheek, warm, controlled, infuriatingly steady.

Your pulse pounded.

"Oh, fuck off." you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act like you—"

You cut yourself off. The words felt too heavy. Too real.

He waited.

And you hated him for it. Your throat felt tight.

"You keep doing this." Her voice was quieter now, but no less cutting. "You act like my choices don’t matter. Like I don’t matter. Like I’m just supposed to go along with whatever you want, whenever you want—"

"That’s not true."

His voice was firm. Immediate. Like he couldn’t let you believe that. Like that was the one thing he refused to accept. A sharp exhale left your lips. Your fists clenched.

“Against my better judgment, I thought you cared. But I guess not.”

That did it.

His entire body went still. Not the kind of stillness that came from processing. The kind of stillness that meant something inside him snapped.

His hand tightened against the wall beside your head.

His jaw flexed. A slow inhale through his nose.

When he finally spoke, his voice was lower. Rougher.

"Say that again."

Your stomach twisted. You had been ready for anger. For mockery. For another one of his goddamn games. But not this.

Not the way his eyes had darkened—not with amusement, but something unreadable. Not the way his fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself. Not the way his voice sounded like it had been scraped raw.

Your pulse pounded.

He exhaled sharply. Then—his voice dipped even lower.

"Say I don’t care about you."

Your breath hitched. You opened your mouth—but nothing came out. Because you couldn’t say it.

Not when he was looking at you like that. Not when you could still feel his warmth caging you in. Not when the silence between you felt like something breakable.

Your chest ached. Because you wanted to say it. You wanted to shove it in his face, make him feel as angry, as raw, as messed up as you felt right now.

But if you said it—it wouldn’t be true.

His fingers twitched. His jaw tightened.

He waited.

You hated him for waiting. Hated him for making you choke on the words.

But before either of you could break—

The anger surged back. Your fingers curled into fists.

"You ignored me. Twice."

He said nothing.

Your chest felt like it was caving in. The words burned on your tongue, bitter and raw.

"I wrote on the fridge not to send a guard. I replied to your text. I said no." Your voice broke on the last word, and you hated it. Hated how much it sounded like something fragile.

You swallowed hard before adding—

"And still—you sent one anyway."

Silence.

But not the kind from before. This wasn’t tense. Wasn’t heavy with something waiting to explode.

This was wrong.

The shift in the air was immediate.

Tetsurou’s entire body –locked up—shoulders going rigid, jaw clenching once, twice. The vein in his forearm twitched beneath his sleeve as his fingers curled into a fist.

You furrowed your brow. You were expecting a fight. Expected some excuse. Some bullshit response. Some smug little grin like this was just another game to him.

But he wasn’t doing any of that. He wasn’t reacting at all.

Your pulse pounded.

"Tetsurou."

Nothing.

The only sound was the slow inhale through his nose, measured and too controlled. Like he was forcing himself to stay still.

Finally—his voice came. Low. Rough.

"I didn’t send a guard."

A pause

Then another.

And then—the realization hit you all at once.

Your breath caught.

Your stomach dropped.

Your blood ran cold.

And then—he leaned closer.

Too close.

His presence swallowed what little space had been left between you. His jacket brushing against your sleeve, his breath skimming your temple.

You stiffened.

Something in his eyes changed.

Just for a second—just a flicker—you saw it. Something raw. Something possessive.

And suddenly, you saw him differently.

You looked at Tetsurou. Really looked at him.

And you knew.

"Then who the fuck was watching me?"

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kuroo x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #sugawara koushi #lev haiba #alisa haiba #kozume kenma #shirabu kenjirou #deception #dark fic #mafia au

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the-magpieprince · 7 months ago

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#its been a while #but i saw that post on pinterest and had to make this #star trek #star trek tos #james t kirk #star trek the original series #star trek meme #magpie posts #amok time

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becauseheartsgetbroken-hs · 2 years ago

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he is insanely beautiful

#im not gonna say anything about him not wearing any pants 🥵#harry styles #he is art #saw the pictures on pinterest and i was speechless #i had to make a post about it

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thedreamerstoryteller · 11 months ago

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averlym · 1 year ago

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HI I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE INTO ADAMANDI HOLY SHIT. Can’t believe so few people know about this masterpiece of a musical

:OOOOO hai i agree it is criminally (haha yknow bc there are crimes..) underrated!! and really brilliant!!! discovered it literally midway through the week and akdfjgsjhdsjhjgdf

have a doodle of the saints :3

#this is kinda because on someone's insta i saw one of the saints doing a peace sign dksajh have smth silly #adamandi #ask me stuff???#realising i have to put my tags at the beginning before rambles or tumblr won't catch it #i am into adamandi. now. this is terrible timing because exam season but hMM the academic grindset really resonates now huh #the moment i caught myself in the ao3 tag i was like ''oh.''#i have so many thoughts. so many many thoughts. im so insane about this musical actually. also the fandom so far seems so nice #also yeah! the number of people who know about it is quite small huh.. it makes me kinda feel like im infiltrating the group... ?#late to the party as ever. but it's. so so good. such a musical ever the brainrot is real #also the way the creators themselves are active on tumblr :OO rly cool. ngl the tags they left under my posts had me #giggling screaming kicking my feet etcetera... and bc apparently i thrive off positive reinforcement that sparked the whole cut fruit art..#i am itching to know about the track thing with portia. also portrix real the lesbians keep winning!! also also i may have spent half a day #internet stalking ><. secret pinterest boards where :O #anyway thank you for the ask anon idk how to answer concisely but yes. adamandi. oh my god.#miscellany: can we appreciate ambrose's high notes.. also i was on wiki reading about ''apollonian vs dionysian'' it's insane #on yet another note. im entering my lin era rn i think. what a time. where can i run so true + vincent's surname my beloved. forest imagery #side note? tiny little detail i'd love to do smth about in the future: in word to the wise there's smth about “appraising your rings” and i #the one who pulls the strings beatrix mentions “bought my classmates rings” like. kjdfhsgjkhd???? thinks.#.. but new fav musical unlocked is all #between this and watt i am maybe into my murder musical era. confession that i don't do horror much because i have an overactive imaginatio #but like those two hit the spot. and i think organic imagery.. blood visuals.. is very cool// and the moment you start looking at literal #life and death situations then the dramaticness especially comes in and that's fun!! // also i read smth today about tragedy making you #appreciate irl stuff more. like ''wow thats messed up im sure glad that isnt me i love life''. and lowkey?? yeah

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oceanwithouthermoon · 1 year ago

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the realization that tumblr does not work like twitter and i cant just vague post about random discourse or arguments otherwise people will wrongfully assume its about them has flipped my whole life upside down

#exaggerating obviously but still like i vague post so much #did not realize people thought this #like wdym i cant just vague vent about a random argument i had with friends #because at least one person will probably think im talking about them #especially with a blog dedicated to like a small fandom circle like saiki k #whoops!#i once vaguely posted about how i hate getting called boring for disliking toxic ships-#and i got an anon ask being like 'i feel like that was about me cuz i JUST posted a saiki k toxic ship post'#and i just deleted the ask cuz i was like haha thats dunb ofc it wasnt about anyone on here #why would i subtweet about people on here right on here #and not every one of my posts is about saiki k #not only am i in multiple fandoms but also not every post is even a fandom post #that post was about twitter discourse that was making me mad lmfao #then i slowly realized that thats common actually like people assume that shit a lot #whoopsy daisy #any time i post about fandom discourse too-#ppl always think im talking abt them but im always either talking about a post i didnt want to reply to cuz it was from years ago-#or sometjing i saw on like twitter or pinterest or tiktok #if u ever wonder if im vague posting about you- of course im fucking not #i would lowkey just reply directly tbh #lol this is why i hate when people ask me 'who is this about' cuz idk bitch someone who hasnt been active here for like three years-#or some random user on tiktok!! i dont know!!!#i think i did post directly abt someone here like once ? and it was cuz i was sure that person was like 14-#so i didnt want to reply to them and be all mad #so i posted about it cuz i was like well i see people do that a LOT so whatever #(talking about 'teruhashi ruins my gay ships cuz shes a stupid bitch woman🤓' btw)#even then i didnt rlly consider it like a callout post of them or anything cuz theyre just one person out of hundreds that have done that #sorry these tags are so long lol i just erm.. its kinda funny to me ig idk #meows post

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luciluck2046 · 3 months ago

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Someone: "Whacha doing now?"

Me: "Creating accounts for socials that I will never use like Twitter, Instagram and TikTok."

Someone: "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!?!?"

Me: "So no one will ever be @luciluck2046 and that's gonna be me >:3"

Someone: "Huh that's actually kinda normal-"

Me:*goes feral* "NEVER SAY I'M NORMAL 3:<"

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iamunabletothinkofablogname · 1 year ago

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https://pin.it/tYdU010

AFISFHISDFSDIF FISDFHIUISDFH FSDOIFJS FDSKPFSFOPSK THE FUCKING CUTIE SCRIMBLO BIMBLO LOVABLE COOL COMFORTABLE MF IM GONNA ASHDIASD

#Had to look behind me to make sure nobody saw me glitching out of existence #HOW DO YOU FIND SUCH GOOD PINTEREST STUFF BRO I STRUGGLE TO MAKE PINTERESTS ALGORITHM GIMME ONE KILLER POST FISDFISF /nm #ask #LargeFound #btw idk if i've thanked you for the angelic pinterests so just incase #thank you :)) !! /gen #the colors are so pretty too #KILLER #my brains gonna melt /vpos

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honeyviscera · 2 years ago

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omg seeing u react to go s2 makes me so excited/nervous for it i was OBSESSED with it a few years ago like genuinely crazy abt it... and now it is back....!!!! throwing up screaming, sobs, etc

I KNOW LITERALLY IM GOING INSANE good omens was my number one main obsession like 3-4 years ago i was so insane about it literally every waking moment i spent thinking about it the only reason that hasn't been apparent Here on tumblr is bc i got an account riiight as my obsession was fading a bit and went dormant but the brainrot is back and im going insane. literally i watched good omens s1 around 15 times in total i did a school project on it (part of which was a presentation i did a whole presentation. at school. about this show) it made me so crazy. and now WE'RE BACK BAYBEEEE so far i have avoided most spoilers but some ppl have said the ending hurts and so im scared. but i also eat tragedy up lol why else would my header image be a stsg gif DFKHDGKJD;LJKG AAAAUGH i love good omens.

#ocean asks #i took a break but now im back to watching👍i was making a salad for my lunches this week #HRGH #literally summer 4 yrs ago before i had a blog i would lurk on some artists and bloggers accounts that i liked (for his dark materials)#and i saw ppl posting about good omens. and i was like hm! that looks like something i'd enjoy #so i got the ebook on my ereader and my family went on vacation at that time #so i literally. read the book while we were on vacation and then the SECOND we got back i immediately binged it.#and then. i just kept rewatching it.#i was also on instagram and pinterest more at that time so i literally started following majority go fanartists on insta #and i looked at fanart and i read fanfiction and i lurked on more artists on tumblr and i literally just. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #ANYWAYS. i was so insane about this show and i can feel my hyperfixation warming right back up #sorry sorry i just need it to be known how insane i was over this bc i was VERY INSANE ABOUT THIS

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sugucidal · 7 months ago

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# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!

CHAPTER ii. [9.1k words]

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: the shopping trip you were forced to go on with Toji doesn't go exactly as planned.

୨୧‬┊warnings: taboo cw! + semi-smut + age difference (reader is 19 and toji is 34 ) + slow burn + one-sided pining + attempt at humor + slice of life + reader takes multiple L's + megumi is mentioned + reader gets objectified (not by toji) + toji is a serial hoe

୨୧‬┊a/n: make sure to check out my main post! ive included a pinterest board for everything described + a playlist ♡

MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part ii.

You didn't know if it was a blessing in disguise, or a curse. Perhaps a cruel joke the world was playing on you like it always did. Yet here you were again, your knee high fluffy socks skidding across the oakwood flooring of your room, scouring through your closet like a deranged cat looking for something to wear on today's decor run.

"Shoes, shoes…I'm missing shoes," digging through the furthest corner in the enclosed space of your closet, you spotted an unopened box on one of the shelves. It was a simple pair of heeled, white mary janes with a heart buckle. You got it 2 birthdays ago but never saw an opportunity to wear them, until now.

Your mother told you that Toji was picking you up at 10:30 am despite you telling her that you would go after lunch.

'He's a busy man. He said this is the only time he's free today.'

"Yeah, of course he is. Always busy doing God knows what." Sighing, you decided on your ensemble for this morning. It was rushed and unplanned, but it would have to do.

Looking at the time on your phone, you saw that it was 10:15. You've still got 15 more minutes left till Toji arrives to pick you up. Letting out a breath, you sat on your bed, shoe cladded toes tapping the floor as your knee bounced, restlessly waiting.

Going over to your floor length mirror, you checked over your choice of outfit once more. It wasn't too cold of a day, so you opted for a knitted long sleeved, off-the-shoulder, cream toned sweater dress that hugged your curves. With its hem stopping just right underneath your ass.

You were debating between thigh highs or leg warmers, but decided leg warmers looked better scrunched down on your ankles with the shoes you opted to wear. You didn’t do much with your hair last night since you were only at home, but since you were going out in public today, you felt like doing something with it. Something cute specifically, as you opened your vanity drawer deciding which accessory to wear today. Picking some silk ribbon you saw laying about, you braided it into your hair, sealing it with a rubber band and tying an extra ribbon into a bow to conceal it. And finally, you had your bag. Well, more like bear. The teddy bear backpack you had on matched well with the neutral color scheme. So, you went for it. Honestly, you reminded yourself of a doll. A doll with a pretty face, and a whole lot of problems.

Taking a deep breath, you puffed out your chest. Your confident expression stared back at you, but on the other side of that mirror you felt nothing but anxiety simmering the longer you stood there in silence.

"I might as well wait for Toji outside then." It was no use standing around in your room. The bed looked way too inviting as it only made you think of excuses not to go. You wouldn't let your bed get the best of you this time.

Walking down the stairs, you headed towards the entrance, petting your cat's furry head along the way. Upon opening the door, you were met with the sight of freshly layered snow. It was thin, barely half an inch thick, but it already had you feeling a little better with the anticipation of making a snowman with it once the days got colder. You remember there was a time when you used to do that with Toji.

God, you can't even reminisce about the past without Toji having some part in it.

You desperately needed to figure out how you were going to do this.

Last night was a bust. Not much progress was made besides the fact that Toji actually spoke to you for the first time in years. Not that he had much chance to do so sooner even if he wanted to, with you a couple hours away from home and all. But it was the bare minimum. Right now you needed a plan, and you needed to think of one fast.

Standing against the railing of your porch, you sorted through your thoughts. You're going to get picked up by Toji in less than 10 minutes. You'll ride in his car, pretend that everything's okay because it is, you'll buy whatever this party needs, and if it goes well you'll confront him on the ride back home. And that'll be the end of that.

Easy.

But when is anything ever easy when it comes to that man. Nothing. The answer has always been nothing.

This line of thought has you so deep into your own frustration that you don't even realize you've been ranting to your teddy bear backpack. Murmuring to it harshly, and rolling your eyes like you're gossiping with a friend about the latest dumb thing that happened on Twitter today.

And it's only when you see a black pickup truck from your peripheral vision pulling up, that you stare back at the bear in horror. Mind being snapped back to the present, and feeling embarrassed that you were seen like this. A man was causing you this much turmoil, that you've been complaining to a damn backpack about it.

Quickly putting your bag back on, you smoothed out your sweater dress. You really fucking hope he didn't see that.

Facing towards the driveway you paused. Your eyes widened, already in awe at the vehicle as you saw it more clearly up close.

The last car you saw Toji with was an old, red Toyota truck. It did it’s job, but definitely not without a couple repairs here and there every so often (that you may or may not have checked him out while he was doing so.) So seeing this new, shiny, black Chevy parked right outside the driveway was definitely an exciting upgrade. The wheels were lifted, making the body higher than its original design, and the windows were tinted midnight black, making it nearly impossible to see who was inside unless you stuck a cheek to the glass.

Overall it was big, and intimidating.

Just like him.

'Guess those freelancing jobs paid off then.’

*BEEP BEEP*

Jesus. You didn't even notice Toji had already parked. How long were you just staring at it for? If he started to honk at you, it must’ve been more than what society deemed normal.

Running up to the passenger side of the truck, albeit meekly, you stopped right in front of the door just as the tinted windows were being pulled down giving you a better view of the inside. There sat Toji on the other side, upper body turned and facing towards you with one hand still on the wheel.

Toji’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets at your appearance but it was quickly masked by a look of amusement.

"You busy daydreaming or what?"

Ignoring his remark, you placed your hands on the edge of the cold glass, peering up at him and around the interior.

“So, new truck huh?”

"Oh this? Yeah, got it not too long ago after receiving my payment for….from work."

You squinted your eyes in suspicion, noticing that he caught his words, but you weren't going to question it. No, you were going to let it go. You knew he wouldn’t tell you anything anyway, most likely just brushing it off as suddenly being hit with a stutter. He never spoke about his “overseas” jobs that he apparently racked up stacks of cash from, and despite him saying it was only freelancing work, you had a hunch it was something a lot shadier than that. You weren’t that dumb. Which is exactly why you weren’t going to ask.

Choosing to stay oblivious, you gave a compliment instead. "It's nice, Toji. Really."

You were about to open the door to get in and cut the small talk short (and because you’d rather bask in the in-system heating than out in the cold) but it wouldn’t budge. It was still locked. Why isn’t he unlocking the door?

Instead of unlocking the door for you like normal people do when picking up a person with their car, Toji isn't exactly someone you'd consider normal. Instead, Toji looked you up and down slowly as an awkward silence took over. You stood there rigid, allowing him to unashamedly undress you with his eyes. At least you think that's what he was doing. He’s being really bold today…does he seriously not plan to open this door?!

Your mind was running a mile per minute. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but you kind of liked the attention he was giving you right now. Especially since he hadn’t bothered to give you any last night. Not that you blame him. Looks like the effort you had put in, despite being rushed, was working, leaving him dumbstruck. You felt proud that you managed to have him speechless.

Unfortunately, your sudden boost in ego was quickly shut down.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Oh. Talk about anticlimactic.

"Huh? W-what do you mean?"

"I mean," He stood there, a single eyebrow raised, and vaguely gesturing to your form with his hand, "This."

Looking around to see if anyone else was witnessing this, you quirked your head in question. "What about it?"

"I know ya didn't just decide to go out looking like that when it's freezing out here. Go back upstairs and put some real clothes on." He looked at you sternly with a scowl etching onto the scarred side of his lip, arms crossing in front of his chest.

Was Toji actually scolding you right now? The nerve of this guy!

You hadn’t seen it right away, but after staring back at him in disbelief at what you were hearing, you noticed his own personal ensemble.

There’s no damn way…

Looking up and down at him as he had done to you just moments prior, you saw that he was wearing an unzipped puffer jacket with a hoodie underneath which was fine, you had no issues regarding that. The problem was what he was wearing below.

This man, who was condemning you on your sweater dress because it was apparently unfit for “freezing” temperatures, was wearing shorts and slides. At least he wore socks with it, if he hadn’t you think you may have actually gone back home and let him do the shopping himself.

You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, but quickly shut up after seeing Toji wasn’t finding this as amusing as you were.

This was crazy.

Tilting your head to the side, you scrunch your nose in disbelief. “You’re telling me to put warmer clothes on, when you’ve got shorts and slides on?”

Toji was quick to counter. “It’s not the same, don’t compare it.”

“Yeah it is!”

“Look kid, I’m not gonna argue with ya. Either change your clothes, or stay home.”

That’s exactly what you want to do. But you know deep down you can’t, you already told yourself you had to sort things out with him. And the first step to that, is sorting this out.

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ - - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

After a couple pleading looks and adamant convincing of, 'I'm not cold!' 'I swear I'm fine. It doesn't even feel like winter out here!'

Toji relented. Letting out a sigh, shaking his head as he told you, 'Fine, whatever. But don’t come cryin’ at my feet when your stubborn ass gets sick and your mom gets mad at you.'

Now here you were, seated on the heated, brand new black leather seats of his Chevy after he finally gave in and unlocked the door, letting you in. You spent the trip with your head resting against the palm of your hand somberly, as you watched the scenery of snowy trees and other cars pass by.

The awkwardness throughout the entire car ride was at an all-time high. Higher than what it'd started out with earlier. You were both quiet; your brain a little less. Toji's disappointment regarding your attire was a total blow to your ego. You were just trying to look cute.

Not like it was meant for him anyway.

Is what you wanted to try convincing yourself in order to feel better, but really, you knew it was a lie.

As for Toji, that thought you had earlier about him ogling you? It was right on the money.

But he had to quickly save face by instead acting like a concerned adult worrying about the wellbeing of his innocent, young neighbor. If he was being honest, he didn’t give two shits about what you chose to wear. As long as it was for his eyes only.

Yes, he knew he’d hurt your feelings for telling you to go change. He understood that he was being overbearing and unreasonable especially after you brought up his own attire, but you had to understand. He physically couldn’t accept seeing you wearing an outfit that barely covered your ass like that in public when he should be the only one to see you looking like that. Yes, he was sick for looking at you that way and he knew that which is exactly why he needed you to cover up. Both so that no other creepy assholes (except himself) could see you that way, and because he doesn’t think he could control his thoughts about you for the next couple hours you have alone together. It’s why he had to shift in his seat a couple times. Though, you didn’t notice that.

This game you were playing with him? This seducing thing? With little skirts and shit, yeah it was doing something to him.

Maybe you haven’t changed as much as he thought. As they say, old habits die hard.

After about 15 more minutes of unspoken thoughts, you finally arrived at the store.

Why did you agree to do this again? Oh yeah, you didn't.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you took a deep breath to try and regain your composure. Just focus on the task. Opening the door, you hopped down and out onto the recently snow-shoveled pavement with Toji following suit as he turned off the truck, taking the keys from the ignition and shutting the door behind him.

You could feel Toji’s burning gaze boring into your back as he walked behind you, keeping a slight distance between you and him but still enough that people could tell that you two came together. Entering into the store, you whipped out your phone, unlocking it and clicking on the notes app filled with a list of things you needed to get that your mom instructed you two to buy. You crossed your fingers hoping you could get all this done quickly and smoothly.

Obviously, life loves to humor you because things did not go smoothly.

Everything was going well at first, you scoured the aisles looking for streamers, fairy lights, pretty napkins, silver and white balloons, and whatever else was needed; putting it all into the basket that Toji was holding, still following you like a sort of puppy—or more like a guard dog with the menacing aura he carried around himself with every step he took.

Walking around you’d occasionally find something that caught your eye, tinkering around with the item for a couple seconds before putting it back down and walking over to the next intriguing thing—like a snow globe you found of a character you recognized filled with pink and white sparkly snow. You bet your ass you added that one to the basket. That hello kitty snow globe was a need, not a want. How something like that even found its way to a store like this was beyond you, but hey, you weren’t complaining.

You even found cute little hats while looking around and managed to get Toji to wear a pair of elf ears while you wore a Santa hat, telling him a silly joke about how he was Santa’s jolliest helper. That only earned you a huff, and roll of his eyes as he took off the ears and pulled the hat you wore down over your face, chuckling as he watched you make dramatics about how you were being suffocated despite being able to breathe perfectly fine.

Interacting like this with him gave you butterflies. You’d let him ruin your perfectly styled hair if it meant things were going back to the way they used to be between you both.

Everything was going fine.

You were actually having…fun. Which you hadn’t anticipated. You were so caught up about feeling like you were on thin ice with Toji, and though you still sort of felt that way, you felt ecstatic that things were beginning to feel normal. Like nothing even happened.

“Hmm, looks like the last thing on this list are more scented candles. Thought we already had some? Oh well.” You shrugged your shoulders. You think your own obsession with candles might have stemmed from your mom now that you think about it.

Toji leaned his body over your shoulder, looking down over your list himself at the check marked boxes except for one. You immediately stiffened up, not expecting him to get so close to you, and especially not for him to make body contact with you. You wish you didn’t have all these layers in the way. You internally shook the thought off before it could escalate. Now was not the time to be having these touched starved thoughts!

Pulling away from you, but still keeping close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, he put the basket down next to your feet. “Yeah, I saw a couple of those on the other aisle we passed by.”

“Oh good! One of us can get it. Stay here and I’ll quickly-“ Your suggestion didn’t even have a chance to reach the other end of Tojis ears before it got shut down.

“Nah, you stay here, and stay put while I grab it. And don’t go straying off you understand, kid?” Toji looked down at you, waiting for your answer. He’d rather not leave your side, especially since he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t get distracted by something and walk off like a lost mouse-but he tried to reason out in his head that it was only one item. He’d quickly get it and come back, and you’d still be there.

You weren’t going anywhere.

So why did he find it so hard to walk away from you? Must be some type of trauma he thinks.

Nodding your head, with a ‘Mhm! Promise. Not going anywhere. Nope, staying put.’ Toji searched your face to see if you were lying but decided you weren’t, and began jogging off towards another aisle in a different section of the store.

He couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about this as he looked over at all the scented candles, picking up the most expensive looking ones.

“S’not my money anyway..”

Maybe he should’ve just taken you along with him. It’s not like it would’ve caused the both of you any more hassle than going alone would. Shit. Something was gnawing at Toji to hurry the hell up and get back to you. As he briskly walked to the aisle where he had left you, he was met with something far worse than overpriced décor, and it had him seething.

There you were, face scrunched up, and looking highly uncomfortable as some random guy, around your age it seemed, was trying to flirt with you.

Keyword: Trying.

Toji didn’t know who this guy was but he knew damn well what was happening, and he wasn't going to let it slide. Not on his watch. That he wasn't even wearing.

You hadn't noticed Toji's arrival yet. Still preoccupied with keeping calm and trying to ignore this random man that thought it would be chivalrous of himself to make comments about your body. Saying things about how he doesn't know why your man let you out like that, and if you were his bitch he wouldn't let you out his sight.

It's a good thing Toji wasn't there to hear any of that.

What Toji did hear as he was silently coming up behind the both of you, that almost made him run up and deck the guy in the nuts was when he leaned his body down exaggeratedly to look at your ass and said, "DAMN. That's more ass than…. I've seen….in a while!"

This prick didn't even know where the hell he was going with that line, but Toji sure knew where that guy was gonna end up if he tried it again.

At this point, you were more than ready to kick this guy in the balls, but you didn't want to anger him. Who knows what this guy has got going on in his head? He's harassing you at a decor store for fucks sake!

Before you were thinking about making a run for it to the direction of where Toji had gone, deeming your situation helpless without him; it seemed like someone finally answered your prayers because the moment you looked back, there he was standing right behind the both of you.

'How did I not notice him?? He's wearing slides for god sake! I should've heard the 'plip' 'plaps'!'

"The fuck are you doing?"

The guy was still leaning down when Toji spoke up. He was about to cuss out whoever this other guy was for interrupting his daily "I objectify women for fun" hobby, until he looked up. There Toji stood, 6'2, built like he was made for war, in his shorts and slides, holding candles, and a look so threatening etched onto his face, you think this guy may have almost shit his pants. If the audible gulp meant anything.

"O-oh fuck. Look sir, I was just admiring your hard work, very beautiful daughter you have here. Didn't realize…Sorry." The way he ran away was almost pitiful. Almost. But none of you had any pity for trash.

'Well that was quick', Toji thought. He assumed he might've had to light up this candle he was holding and choke him with it but it seems that wouldn't be happening today.

That's one less crime the authorities could pinpoint on him.

Turning his attention towards you, he asked if you were alright.

"Sort of…not really. Being objectified isn't exactly the greatest feeling…" Toji noticed the way you hugged your hands around yourself, most likely trying to cover up. Suddenly feeling too exposed for comfort despite attempting to brush the interaction off.

Maybe you should've listened to Toji earlier and changed your clothes to something more fitting for winter weather. Screw looking cute.

Though, the regret didn't have a chance to get very far because suddenly you were being brought back to the present.

"Lift your arms up."

Huh? "Wh- why?" The next thing he did nearly had your heart leaping out of your chest. Taking off his puffer jacket, he nudged your arms to lift up so he could help put it through the holes of the sleeves. After checking to make sure it was on properly, he zipped it up a bit more than halfway and patted you down in an effort to make you look a little bit less like the emo version of the Michelin Man.

"You gonna be okay?" You were still a little surprised at the gesture, especially since it was coming from him of all people, but you answered, "..Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay."

"Good. Lemme finish paying for all this crap and I'll drop you off at your place."

Leading the way towards the cashier, he placed his large palm over your lower back and kept it there until your goods were paid for, and you were out the door.

Situating yourself on the seats of Toji's car, you couldn't help but feel a smile creep up on you, desperately trying to bite it back. You're wearing his coat.

He put his coat on you.

You think you could die of happiness right now. But, you'll save that for later. That whole fiasco that happened at the store still had your mood all sour. You really didn't want to go home yet. And as Toji began to pull out of the parking lot, you spoke up.

"Toji? I don't really feel like going home yet.."

"Yeah? Aight. We'll stop somewhere, I know a place."

Nodding your head, you mumbled a 'thanks', grateful that he took the hint and didn't try to argue with you or ask any questions. Toji can be empathetic when he wants to be sometimes.

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Apparently, when Toji said he 'knew a place', you didn't expect it to be…this.

"Cinnabon? Really?"

"What? You don't like their cinnamon buns? We can go someplace else if you don't want em.”

You paused. Well, now that you were thinking about it…"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I do like those."

“Besides,” Walking over to the counter to order, Toji got into line, “I remember ya telling me one time that you liked this place."

He still remembers something like that?

You didn’t answer. Instead you followed the nod of Toji’s head telling you to leave the ordering to him and to go find a table to sit at. Looking around, you saw that all the tables were already preoccupied. Damn. Walking back to Toji, you suggested ordering it to go and just finding some place else to sit at like that wooden bench you saw just outside the establishment, which he seemed to favor far more.

Leaving him to his vices, you exited the shop and went to sit outside on the storefront bench, patiently waiting for Toji to get back with your food. Looking around there was still a thin sheet of snow covering some areas of the pavement, most having melted throughout the day or driven over by now. Yet it seemed as though the temperature had no plans of rising as you breathed out a puff of steam, remaining at its crisp, nearly frosty condition. It felt peaceful.

The few minutes of alone time you had to yourself was the most silence your brain has allowed itself to be in within the 24 hours of Tojis reintroduction into your life.

The oversized puffer jacket you still had on made those hours feel shorter by reminding you of just how much "excitement" had managed to happen—you bet you looked silly as hell with it engulfing your frame, but you couldn't find it in you to care about that at this moment. Especially since it was serving its purpose of protecting you against the cold that you found yourself surrounded by as you sat there waiting.

Leaning back against the wood, you felt something hindering you from going all the way. Your teddy bear backpack. You forgot you even had it on as it was hidden underneath the coat Toji had quickly put on you. Yeah, you must've looked really stupid. Fighting back a grimace and ignoring the fact for your own peace of mind, you went to remove the coat. Leaving it piled behind you on the bench as you took off your bag, placing it onto your lap.

Reaching into your bag, you took out your trusty emergency makeup kit. Wouldn't hurt to do a quick touch up… Looking over in the direction of the sudden sound of a bell being rung, you peered over to your left to see that it was just someone stepping foot out the shop with a cup of what looked to be hot chocolate.

'Hopefully Toji get's back soon.'

Focusing back on the task at hand, you clicked open a compact inspecting the state of the way you looked with the mirror. The sight that greeted you brought out a breath of relief. Not a single thing out of place. But just in case, you patted on a little bit of powder for good measure, and reapplied your clear lipgloss so the cold air could struggle to nip at your lips.

After assessing what needed to be assessed, you put your pouch back into your bag and immediately piped up at the sound of the door chiming again. You couldn't help but do a small cheer as you saw that it was finally Toji approaching you, carrying a bag containing your icing drenched cinnamon bun, a hot drink of some sort, and a bottle of water.

Handing you your food and drink, you thanked him and immediately dug in once it was within your grasp. Taking a bite, a bit of steam emitted from the warm and gooey bun melting on your tongue, flooding your taste buds with a mix of sweet and nutty spice. Damn, you were a lot hungrier than you thought. But you suppose that's due to having skipped breakfast in the morning. Stuffing more into your mouth, your eyes met Toji's to see him already sitting beside you and looking down at you, snickering.

"Hwat?" The question came out muffled from your cheeks being stuffed like a squirrel.

He looked off to the side for a second, still snickering before he answered, "Nothin."

Swallowing your food down harshly, you pouted with your brows scrunched together and took notice that you were the only one eating.

"How come you didn't get yourself one?"

He deadpanned. "I don't want diabetes."

"Right…of course not…" Such a Toji answer, you thought.

It felt a little weird to be the only one eating, but he kept refusing everytime you asked if he was absolutely sure he didn’t at least want a bite. It was silent between you two except for the occasional slurp of your drink, and you think Toji noticed it too because suddenly he started conversing with you, catching up a little bit on how the both of you have been.

"So kid, how's the university life been treatin' ya?"

"Hm? Oh uhm, it's been alright I guess." You shrugged, fork still in hand.

"Just alright? Sounds pretty lackluster to me."

"It is." You sighed.

"You tellin' me you don't, what- party? Or done those weird cultist initiations you kids do at sororities."

"Yeah…no. I'm too busy actually studying most of the time. I've been to like 2-ish? parties, but that's about it. And sororities? You couldn't possibly pay me to join one of those.” You’ve heard one too many stories of premature deaths being caused by sororities. You didn’t particularly feel like gambling your chances. Plus, you weren’t really into the whole sisterhood-brotherhood thing, too weird.

As the conversation progressed between your frankly unexciting school life, Toji recalled some neighborhood fiasco that happened while you were away.

"...Then this kid's boyfriend starts beating up the guy that tried to take her purse."

"No way! This really happened in our neighborhood? Where like.. nothing ever happens?" To think that a crime had actually happened in the most safest, suburban of neighborhoods that you lived in for your whole life and you weren't there to witness it.

"I'm tellin' ya it was set up to make himself look good. A robbery in broad daylight? In this neighborhood? Bullshit."

"Why does all the exciting shit always happen when I'm not around?" You whined, sighing out your disappointment.

Closing the box to your nearly finished cinnamon bun and placing it beside you on the bench, you suddenly remembered something.

"By the way! My mom told me you have a son? How come you never mentioned him to me before?"

And just like that, Tojis brows immediately furrowed as if the question was one he hadn't expected to be asked, especially not coming from you. Leaning forward with a grunt, he rested an elbow on his knee, propping a palm under his chin as he proceeded to look at you with the most dramatically bored expression you’ve ever seen on someone's face- one that rivaled even yours.

It screamed, ‘let's get this shit over with.’

"You never asked. Besides, why you askin' about him now?"

You noticed the way his mood instantly changed after mentioning him but...it was probably nothing right?

Regardless, he didn't seem to be exactly… excited at the mention of his son, so you treated lightly with your next words. “Well, my mom is telling me that I should start looking for a good boy to date and she mentioned your son.”

He laughed out in disbelief. “Gumi? That boy? Ha, good luck with that. He wouldn’t know the first thing on how to treat a girl.”

He couldn’t treat you the way I could. Is what he wanted to say.

Awkwardly you answered, “Well… anyway, I don't think he even goes to my Uni…I think. So it wouldn't really be an option.”

Toji stayed silent.

The sudden uncomfortable silence that took over had you overthinking all over again.

What's wrong? Does he have a bad relationship with his son? Is that why he looks irritated? Should I ask? No. He might get more irritated. Shit. Okay, subject change.

Slamming your hands onto your thighs a little too hard in an attempt to calm your nerves, the sound seemed to catch Tojis attention. Snapping him out of whatever trance he was in, and back to his usual demeanor.

You rubbed your arms out of awkwardness. “Sooo, yeah. Sucks, I wasn't there to witness a fraudulent act of chivalry right in my own neighborhood."

Toji was thankful you moved on from the topic of his son, he didn’t want to think of that little squirt right now.

But then it got him wondering…

"You ever had a boyfriend before?"

The question surprised you a little. Okay maybe a lot. You didn't think he'd be even remotely interested in your love life.

"No… I've never had one." While there was no shame in not having had a significant other at your age, still you couldn't help but feel embarrassed admitting it to Toji.

Toji raised a brow in suspicion. "You sure you're staying clear of boys?"

This behavior he was exhibiting was starting to confuse the hell out of you. First he scolds you on your attire this morning, and now he's interrogating you on your love life? He was being way overprotective, almost acting as a parent, and it was seriously beginning to make you feel hopeless.

You nodded. "Yes, Toji. I'm not interested in college guys. They don't know what they're doing,"

That answer seemed to be good enough for Toji, but to both his and your utter surprise you continued, "But I've done other things."

Straightening his back up against the wooden bench in interest, Toji beckoned you to continue on. Truth be told, he didn't want to hear you talking about boys. Just the thought of you with some dumbass little boy made him irrationally bothered. But there was one thing itching at him to ask.

One thing he simply had to know.

"Oh yeah?"

"Just casual stuff. Nothing serious.."

Toji hummed. It was cute how you were beating around the bush about whatever 'things' you've done. He'll humor you this time around.

"We talkin' the 'clothes on' type of stuff?"

"Well…not exactly.."

Your lack of elaboration following your answer made Toji egg you on further.

"Don't start gettin' all shy on me now. Let me take a guess, this has somethin' to do with how you mentioned that college boy's don't know what they're doing, yeah?

And like clockwork, the words proceeded to flow past the tip of your tongue without a second thought.

"Remember how I also mentioned earlier that I've gone to only a few parties? Well at one of those parties, I got left alone by my friends in favor of hooking up with some guys they thought were hot."

"Sounds like some shitty friends."

You grunted. "Tell me about it. Anyways, here I am, sitting alone on this couch that's thankfully only mildly sticky from whatever wasted student had spilled their drink on top of it, and this guy sits right next to me. We talk, things happen, and we find an empty room."

Toji hums, signaling to you that he's still listening.

Immediately, irritation is apparent on your face by the way your eyes narrow as you recall the memory. "He puts his hands in my pants and this dumbass can't for the life of him find where my clit is and is just rubbing around. Then he has the nerve to ask if I came yet!? Bitch I'm not even moaning!"

Toji nods, intently listening to your rant. Biting back his amusement at your outburst.

"And the same fuckin thing happens again except with a different guy I had been seeing for less than a week. Except—get this, he asks me what a clit is. Like are you for real!?"

Taking a deep breath, you tried channeling your nerves. "So that's that. College boy's don't know where the clit is—hell, they don't even know of its existence."

Slumping your shoulders, you kicked at the tiny stones on the cement with your shoe.

"It's why I've never gone further than that."

If you were being honest, even if those guys did know their way around a woman's body, you don't think you could find it within yourself to stick around for it. You already knew what your mind was banging against your skull to say. Deep down, somewhere in the backrooms of your brain, you know it's because of Toji. It's always been him; the man you're still holding out for. Hoping he'd be the one to take your virginity.

Whatever. It was a pipe dream anyway. And you definitely weren't going to tell him that.

Speaking of telling him…

‘Why did you tell him all that!? Why did you have to run your mouth!!’

You stammered out an apology. The gravity of what you just up and confessed dawned on you, leaving you a cringing mess from within.

"I-I'm sorry…I don't even know why im telling you all this-"

Toji is quick to dismiss the apology. Truth be told, he was delighted to hear that you were still a virgin.

“Don't worry bout it’. It's nothing to be embarrassed of.

“I mean yeah…but still…”

Turning to face you, Toji placed his hand gingerly upon your thigh, giving it a light squeeze in what you assumed to be an attempt at reassurance or maybe it was comfort? You couldn't really tell, you just knew that the warmth of it felt nice.

“Listen, if I’m tellin’ you that being a virgin is nothin’ to be ashamed of, then its not. Look at it this way, you ain’t a teen mom, something not many can say nowadays.” He shrugged.

He kind of had a point. Though his comforting skills were kind of ass.

“Yeah..okay. Thanks for listening then.”

“No problem.”

You thought after your little rant the atmosphere would return to its awkward state as it seems that's how it had been every time you spoke with Toji—yet oddly enough, it felt like you had somehow managed to get closer to him by opening up about your struggles.

Suddenly feeling a spout of hunger befall you once more, you took the last remaining bite of your cinnamon bun, slowly licking off the icing that had gotten smeared onto your lips.

Toji eyed the action intently, internally shaking a head at himself.

‘This little minx..’ but before you could make eye contact he abruptly withdrew his hand, fishing a phone out his pocket and checking the time. Huh, you hadn't even noticed his hand had still been on you.

“It's already almost 4, think it's time to call it a day.”

With a sound of surprise, you rose up from your seat, closing the box once more as you watched Toji stand up from his own spot, already patting on his pockets for the car keys.

You hadn't even noticed that much time had gone by.

“Thanks again for the cinnamon buns and of course, for listening.”

Toji only hummed in acknowledgement.

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The ride home was spent surrounded by the sounds of muffled radio chatter, ever so slightly noticeable with the engine of the truck at a constant thrum. The sun surprisingly hadn't gone down yet as it typically would have on any other winter day and you made sure to thank your lucky stars for those few more minutes of sunlight.

On the other hand, you couldn't help but feel sad. You didn't want the day to end yet, especially not when progress had been made between the two of you. Then it hit you, progress had been made. While you didn't actually confront him about what had transpired on that faithless day, it was still worth celebrating.

Baby steps are still steps after all.

And the more you thought about it, it began to occur to you that today…today kinda felt like a date. In a messed up sense. To others this would've been a failure of a day, but to you? You were elated.

‘Maybe now's my chance to talk to him about what happened back then.’

Sitting up just a little bit straighter in your seat, you turned your head to face Toji, contemplating on the right words to say to him. Just when you were on the verge of starting your sentence, Toji’s phone suddenly began to ring, vibrating atop the center console.

Without bothering to check who was calling him, Toji answered the phone, putting it on speaker. Nothing to be worried about anyway, probably some scammer giving Toji his routine call.

“Yo, what’s up?”

Without a second to waste, a feminine voice practically cried from the other end.

“Tojiiii, baby it’s been so long, when are you coming over?? You know I miss you-”

Before this unknown lady could hope to finish her sentence, she was abruptly hung up on–courtesy of Tojis hand flying to take the call off speaker, fumbling for a good second only to ultimately end the call for good measure.

Clearing his throat, Toji continued to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead. Can't be having you both end up in a car crash right?

“Sorry about that, that was… just one of my old close friends.”

“Uh huh. Ya’ll must've been real close.”

Toji ignored the snark.

“Anyways, go ahead, what were you saying?”

“I…wasn’t saying anything.”

Thankfully the call was received just minutes short of arriving at your home. Pulling into the driveway, the truck on neutral, you waited a few seconds to see if Toji would say anything more. He didn’t.

Holding back a shaky sigh, you unbuckle your seatbelt and exited the vehicle, opening the passenger side to pick up the bags of decor that you went to buy in the first place.

“Wait, let me help ya out-” Toji last minutely interjected as he turned his body over in his seat to face you.

“No need. I already got it.” Picking up the last bag (thankfully they weren’t very heavy), you slammed the passenger door shut. You contemplated giving Toji a proper farewell bidding but with the way you were feeling right now? You didn’t want him to see the ache painted in your eyes. Instead, you continued walking down the shoveled path and up the steps to your house, fishing the keys out from your keychain and unlocking the door, closing it behind you.

Kicking your shoes off and slipping some slippers onto your feet, you laid the bags over the kitchen counter letting whoever discovered them first deal with the contents inside as you made your way up the stairs to your room, plopping onto your bed face first.

You nearly teared up at your own naivety.

Holy shit. ‘I’m so stupid.’ Was all you could think of as the booty call Toji had received replayed in your mind. This wasn’t any new information on Toji that you hadn’t already known about yet it hurt so bad.

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On the other hand, Toji couldn’t help but feel the same way. When he saw you safely get back into your home, he shifted gears to reverse, pulling out the driveway and driving back to his own place.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he pulled out his phone from the cup holder it fell into amidst his struggle to end the call earlier and proceeded to call them back.

One ring was all it took for them to answer, and one second was all it took for Toji to cut them off before they could say anything more.

“Don’t fuckin’ call me again, understand? Good. Now, fuck off.” Hanging up before she could respond or attempt to call back like an idiot, he blocked her.

Letting out a rather loud groan of irritation, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands in indignation, letting his head fall as he could feel a headache coming on.

“Fuck.”

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Laying on your bed disappointed, you curled up thinking about the events that transpired earlier. The whole trip felt like an actual date—up until that call anyway. It was probably the worst way the day could have ended. Your bad luck was unimaginable.

“I need to find myself a four leaf clover or something at this point…”

Honestly, you didn't want to get out of bed. You wanted to lay down and wilt like a flower that never gets any sunlight. Stuffing your face into your arm, it occured to you that you were still wearing Toji’s jacket.

“Maybe I should stop trying to go after someone who’ll never like me back…” You mumbled to yourself, sitting up and throwing the coat towards the nearest chair it could land on.

Were you really this delusional? You saw the way he was looking at you—you shook your head, trying not to overthink it.

‘I guess I had the wrong idea.’

Feeling defeated, you knew if you wanted to continue moping about this, you’d have to do it after a shower; lest you end up skipping your skincare routine leaving you with another thing to sulk about.

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You couldn’t sleep.

Restless, you tossed and turned trying to find that sweet spot that would have you suddenly waking up to the birds singing. Come the fuck on..! I just want to sleep, dammit!

Grunting, it seemed no matter where you tried to place yourself within the comfort of your sheets and plethora of pillows engulfing you, you just couldn’t seem to knock yourself out.

Only one option left.

Slipping a hand underneath the blanket, you let your fingers wander across your skin. Giving each of your tits a soft squeeze under your shirt as you slowly began to relax, sighing in content at a teasing roll of your bud, slowly hardening at your touch.

Growing tired of the teasing and beginning to feel heavy with need, you ran a finger down your panties, keeping it firmly pressed against your slit as you slowly raised your hips up and down in tandem with your middle finger, rubbing yourself over the cotton material. You could feel yourself getting hotter, wetter. A small, sticky patch of your own arousal seeping through the garment as you finally had enough, moving your panties to the side and making contact with your sickened clit. You wasted no time in parting your lips with your pinky and index, and letting both your middle and ring finger draw tight circles over your bundle of nerves. Immediately settling into a steady rhythm that was sure to have you quickly coming undone.

As your breathing picked up, so did the small whimpers escaping through your lips. You tried your best to stay as quiet as possible, but fuck was it hard when all you wanted to do was mewl out a certain someones name, imagining it was him playing with your pussy like this.

Toji.

Even just sounding his name out in your head had you bucking your hips against the friction you were creating. His large, warm hand stuffed down your panties, and cupping your pussy from behind while rubbing at the entire expanse of your puffy cunt messily. Fast. Drenching his palm in your juices. Wondering what it'd feel like to have his long, fat fingers plunge into you as your own currently probes at your clenching hole, dipping in slightly only to take it back out. It didn't feel—wouldn't feel nearly as good unless it were his.

You felt so close. Your fingers were starting to ache as you exerted them, moving it against your swollen clit quicker than before. It started to hurt, but the feeling of adrenaline rushing through you to finish made your brain block it out, replacing it with the endorphins of white hot pleasure that you anticipated to burst at any minute now.

You clamped your legs around your hand, curling into your side like a ball. You wanted to stop, it was too much. But you were so fucking close. Your shaky whines were no longer being held back, eyes squeezed shut and the side of your face pressed against your pillow muffling it as best you could to prevent it from being heard outside.

Just a little more…

Come on come on come on..! Your hand wouldn't stop unless your body reached its peak, only increasing in its pace. Holding your breath, the sound of your palpating heart was deafening as you continued letting out harsh pants.

You felt the familiar feeling of your lower abdomen tightening, coiling up and finally bursting like a dam. Your toes curled up as you threw your head back further into the pillow, unable to stop the sudden cry of Toji’s name that accidentally slipped out from your parched mouth at the pressure of your orgasm rushing over you like a tidal wave.

Before you could bask in your post orgasmic bliss, Toji bursts through your door. The fucking man himself. In the flesh..?

In a panic, you pull your stiff hand away from between your legs as if it were scalding hot oil, grasping the blanket up towards your chin to cover what you’d just been essentially caught doing.

“Heard you screamin’ my name out, sweetheart.”

You’d think any normal reaction to being intruded on by the person you were just fantasizing about would be to first ask some questions—yet there you laid calm as a cucumber, watching as he inched closer to you.

Toji smirked. “Don’t start gettin’ all shy on me now. Let me hear you scream my name again for me.”

You don’t know how he got to you so quickly but Toji was already slipping his hand under the covers towards your pussy, finding it slick and sticky from your high, smearing it all over as he ran his fingers up and down your sensitive slit.

Retracting his hand back from underneath, he relished in the way your arousal stuck to his fingers like a spider's web as he spread them out, glistening against the soft lighting of your suddenly oddly hazy looking room.

Fueled with newfound urgency, Toji threw the covers off of you, yanking your body up to stand on the floor as you both made your way towards your vanity, back hitting the edge of it as you steadied yourself against Toji's chest. It was all moving too quickly. Too fast. Before you could stop to process your surroundings properly, Toji’s large hand hastily groped your tits as his other fingers that were touching on your pussy earlier prodded at your mouth to open. Without a word, you wrapped your lips around them like a good girl, sucking—tasting yourself before he removed them in order to turn you around.

Just then, you realized you both were naked as Toji lifted one of your legs up onto the vanity, dragging his wet fingers over his cock as he moved to align it with your dripping hole. You couldn't form a thought. As if on autopilot. Only the unbridled, desperate need to have Toji in you remained.

No. Scratch that. You felt your own thoughts before you could form them, as if it weren’t your own. It definitely was though. You don’t think anyone could too how fucking badly you wanted this man. Now he was finally about to fuck you? You may as well have been the luckiest woman on planet earth.

And as you begin to feel the sensation of Toji's cock about to enter you—confirming that notion, the door to your room bursts open again.

Wait.

“Wake up.”

What?

“Wake up!”

Is that my fucking cat talking!?

“WAKE UP!”

Groggily opening your eyes, you're met with early winter sun seeping through your thin curtains, casting a hazy glow into your room. You hear birds singing.

“What the hell was that…” Stretching the sleep out of your limbs, you noticed your hand was still situated inside your panties.

You closed your eyes, trying to recall your dream. “So half of that was real?” Well, up until Toji bursted into your room, you suppose. And when your cat spoke up telling you to wake the fuck up.

Ugh.

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, leaning over the bedside to pull your diary sitting on your nightstand towards your lap. You had to write this shit down.

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After jotting down as much as you could recall from the dream without mixing it up with what you were actually getting up to in real life, you left the diary on the same vanity dream version Toji almost dicked you down on.

Throughout the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about Toji. Hell, your feelings for him increased tenfold just from that measly dream alone. You don't know if it's solely your dreams doing that made you feel like you suddenly had a genuine chance with him but fuck it.

You thought about the events of yesterday and recalled when he grasped your thigh. That couldn’t have just been nothing right? The way he eyed your lips too as you licked icing off them. He didn't think you noticed, but you did. Of course you did. It was on purpose after all.

And the icing on the cake? When you brought up his son, Megumi. You didn't want to assume anything but you could've sworn you sensed jealousy swimming in those green eyes of his. How ironic.

Shit, maybe you do have a chance with Toji after all. All he needs is a little push.

With all the evidence stacked up in your favor, you knew you had to devise a plan.

A plan on how to seduce your neighbor.

You giggled to yourself.

“Mama chose a thought daughter.”

4K notes · View notes

fallingforyouforeverr · 7 months ago

Text

𝐍𝐚𝐩 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐏𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢

summary: Oscar misses a team meeting, but when Lando goes to look for him, he gets a surprise

author's note: i finally published my first f1 fic!! sorry it's so short, but I have a bunch of other drafts I'm working on rn that will hopefully be finished soon. also, i literally wrote this at midnight inspired by a picture i saw on Pinterest so it's kinda bad but oh well

warnings: none, just fluff (600+ words)

• f1 masterlist • youtubers masterlist •

It was no secret to anyone that Oscar was a clingy boyfriend. The other drivers loved to compare him to a koala because of how often he would wrap himself around you, pulling you close to him and resting his head on top of yours. Although he often annoyed others by getting distracted by you, they couldn't even blame you for it and even Zak had to admit his clingyness was actually quite cute.

Today however, it was annoying – especially to Lando who had spent the last 20 minutes searching for his teammate after he failed to show up to the team meeting. He had already checked everywhere he could think of and was beginning to contemplate calling the police and reporting the younger boy missing when he heard a faint snore coming from a small room on his left. Slowly pushing open the door, Lando was met with the sight of you and Oscar sleeping on a sofa, your limbs so tightly wrapped around each other that it was hard to tell where you ended and he began.

As quietly as he could, Lando took out his phone and snapped a picture of the two of you and posted it on his story. He slid it back in his pocket, wondering how to wake his teammate without disturbing you, when Oscar stirred, stretching out his long limbs and opening his bleary eyes.

"Wakey wakey sleepyhead," Lando teased, causing the other boy to groan.

Oscar wriggled his arm out from under you, bringing it up to rub his eyes. "What time is it?" He asked.

"It's almost 2"

"WHAT!" Oscar shot up, accidentally waking you in the process, "shit I missed the meeting didn't I."

"Oz? What's wrong?" You spoke as you sat up, voice still slightly scratchy from sleep.

He froze, looking at you with wide eyes and a guilty expression. "Um... I forgot to set an alarm and I kinda slept through the team meeting."

"Oscar!" You scolded with a laugh, " Zak is gonna be so mad!"

Lando chuckled, making you jump as you hadn't realised he was there. "Oh yeah, he's pissed by the way."

Dragging a hand down his face with a sigh, your boyfriend reluctantly pulled himself out of your arms and stood up. "I'm gonna go catch up with the team," he announced, raking a hand through his hair as he rushed out to the garage.

"Oh I can't wait to see what Zak is gonna say about this" Lando began, a grinning cheekily at you. Narrowing your eyes at him in response, he held up his hands in surrender. "Ok, alright, I'm going!"

Smiling wryly at his childish antics, you began packing away your stuff, knowing that Oscar would be finished soon as he tended to become antisocial when tired. Just as you finished putting the last item in your bag, the Australian appeared in the doorway, affection laced with exhaustion in his eyes as he observed you. When you had finished, he held out his hand for you to grab as he led you through the McLaren hospitality. You had almost reached the exit when a familiar voice rang out behind you.

"Ah, Oscar, there you are!"

You both turned around guiltily to come face to face with a less than pleased Zak Brown. "We missed you in the meeting earlier, mate. I hope that nap was worth it."

"Oh yeah sorry I was um-" Oscar paused, a frown overtaking his features as he realised what the older man had said. "Wait how do you know about that?"

Zak chuckled, calling over his shoulder as he walked away, "Let's just say a certain someone isn't very good at keeping secrets."

"Lando, that absolute muppet!"

#oscar piastri #op81 #formula 1 #f1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #op81 x reader #op81 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #landoscar #mclaren #cariad rambles

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5sospenguinqueen · 8 months ago

Text

Play Pretend Pt 2 | Charles Leclerc x Law Student! Reader

Summary: Lightning McQueen realises he misses Elle Woods. Or, when Charles finds out your goals always had him in mind, he realises he should've done the same.

Warnings: Swearing. Redemption. Miscommunication

Female reader with various faceclaims. Pics found on Pinterest

2024 timeline and beyond

Not really impressed with this one so apologies in advance

Main Masterlist

prev.

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YourUserName just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

YourUserName i declare my date for the weekend guilty of being too cute and snuggly

3,558 comments

charles_leclerc i hope he is behaving

→ YourUserName he pissed in my slipper.

→ charles_leclerc how do you know it was him? whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?

→ YourUserName he fell asleep at the scene of the crime

maxverstappen1 what a cute little terror

→ YourUserName he’s forcing me to watch the imola highlights so he can watch his favourite driver win again

→ maxverstappen1 🦁🦁

→ danielricciardo that is such a lie, you literally told me yesterday that i was his favourite driver

→ arthur_leclerc you are all forgetting that his uncle is his favourite driver

lilymhe sleepy boy

→ YourUserName he wore himself out running away with my highlighters

YourBestFriend okay, these pics are cute but i still don’t forgive him for eating my pizza

→ YourUserName don’t tell the internet i let him have pizza, you’ll get me into trouble with his father

→ arthur_leclerc don’t make me tell on you

→ YourUserName i thought you still liked me :(

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YourUserName just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, lorenzotl and others

YourUserName it’s official, your honour 🎓

4,007 comments

charles_leclerc leo and i are so proud of you, y/n/n. you worked so hard for this. enjoy every moment, you deserve it

→ YourUserName tell leo thank you for the cake. I’ll save him some for later ;)

→ User1 the wink? the wink! what does the wink mean?

User2 charles and y/n are the definition of exes who cannot stay away from each other. they don’t follow each other but they’re always lurking haha

schecoperez congratulations, y/n. look forward to seeing you soon

→ YourUserName thank you for the chocolates!

maxverstappen1 congratulations, y/n. can’t wait to see what you’ll do next

→ YourUserName kick your ass in karting

→ maxverstappen1 keep dreaming

→ YourUserName i think yesterday i proved i can achieve my dreams

User3 anyone else finding the red bull boys’ comments odd?

→ User4 no, they’re just being supportive like the rest of the grid?

danielricciardo fucking ace! well done, y/n. go forth and kick some ass

→ YourUserName who let you out of the old folk’s home

georgerussell63 how shitfaced did you get last night considering your graduation post is a day late

→ landonorris mate, she was worse than me

→ YourUserName don’t tell people that! i'm a lady

→ landonorris a lady who threw up on her kebab and then cried until pierre bought you a new one

logansargeant woohoo 🥳 it was lovely to be able to celebrate with you last night. thank you for inviting me

→ YourUserName thank you for coming! and teaching me some cool new moves

→ logansargeant yeah, let’s not talk about those. i think i put my hip out

→ danielricciardo and they call me old!

yukitsunoda0511 let’s go! well done, y/n!

lilymhe iconic elle woods behaviour

→ YourUserName what, like it’s hard

→ alex_albon getting you to drink water last night was hard

→ YourUserName 👎🏻👎🏻

redbullracing congratulations, y/n. we never doubted that you could do it

→ User5 ariana, what are you doing here

arthur_leclerc oh god, you are going to never shut up about this are you

→ YourUserName just say you’re proud of me and move on. i saw the giant bouquet of flowers, and don’t say they were from maman because i recognised your handwriting

→ arthur_leclerc damn.

YourUserName a big thank you to everyone who has supported me along this journey. to those who came to support me last night and put up with my awful drunken singing. and I suppose a thank you to the F1 grid for ensuring my home looks like a makeshift florist. i love the flowers but i will be chasing bees out of my home for at least a week

User6 they all got her flowers 🥹

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redbullracing just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and others

redbullracing no, it’s not hearsay. Y/N L/N truly has joined the Red Bull family as an intern for our legal term. we look forward to seeing what she can do, and hopefully welcoming her into the fold full-time tagged: YourUserName

7,377 comments

maxverstappen1 um, excuse me, why the checo hat

→ YourUserName obviously because he is the #1 choice to support

→ maxverstappen1 my insta handle indicates that i’m #1

→ YourUserName that was so cheesy. i hope it gave kelly the ick

schecoperez that is a perfect hat

→ YourUserName i agree. if you sign it for me, i bet i can get it to sell for a fair bit on ebay

→ redbullracing don’t worry. we’ve got loads you can have

User7 babe broke up with THE charles leclerc and then went, and now i’m going to become besties with your rival

danielricciardo i think she should just be my personal legal aide

→ YourUserName sounds like that’ll involve an awful lot of work for somebody who has just started

→ danielricciardo i’m sorry, are you saying i’m a handful?

→ YourUserName i didn’t think you’d understand me if i spelt it

landonorris you know, if you joined mclaren, we could provide you with a papaya jacket

→ YourUserName i wasn’t aware you had any openings

→ landonorris you’d do a great job doing my washing

→ YourUserName 🖕🏻🖕🏻

User8 can somebody check on charles? make sure he’s still alive after this news

→ User9 did you see that he liked this and then unliked?

georgerussell63 this is mercedes amg erasure

→ maxverstappen1 you’ll get over it but you won’t get y/n

pierregasly congratulations, y/n/n. it’ll be nice to still see you around the paddock again

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by YourUserName, scuderiaferrari and others

charles_leclerc BEST DAY EVER ❤️ thank you for everything, i love you all

20,125 comments

oscarpiastri congrats bro

→ User1 that’s no way to speak to your father

YourUserName leo and i are so incredibly proud of you charles. you deserve this, enjoy tonight x

→ charles_leclerc tell leo i can’t wait to celebrate with him tomorrow when i’m sober, and thank you for the gift x

→ User2 i love that they still don’t follow each other but are congratulating each other on their greatest achievements so far

→ User3 the kisses!!!!

User4 she should’ve been in the paddock

→ User5 she was! arthur posted a story celebrating, and you can catch a glimpse of her in the background

arthur_leclerc lets goooo ❤️

scuderiaferrari bravo charles!! so proud ❤️ here’s to many more

User7 the form on that dive 🍑

→ thisisnoty/n talk about buns of steel

→ User8 is this y/n’s secret account?

YourBestFriend congratulations, charles. we watched you cross the finish line and couldn't have been prouder

→ User9 we? who is we?

→ User10 we all know there’s no way y/n would miss his monaco win, even if they’re not together

YourMum félicitations, charlie. so proud to watch you grow from the teenager to this amazing man

→ charles_leclerc merci maman l/n. thank you for watching and supporting me <3

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YourUserName just posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55 and others

YourUserName fit for the weekend

7,220 comments

danielricciardo i can’t believe max didn’t burst into flames being that close to a ferrari jacket

→ YourUserName don’t be silly. he wanted to steal it

→ maxverstappen1 don’t tell lies. i kicked her out of the garage for her betrayal

redbullracing and why aren’t you in uniform

→ YourUserName i was given the weekend off?

→ scuderiaferrari forza ferrari

→ redbullracing then what were you doing in our garage

charles_leclerc leo said you need to come back from mclaren because you ran off with his rope toy

→ YourUserName oh, that’s what leo told you, was it?

User11 okay but is this confirmation that she was in the ferrari garage for charles?

oscarpiastri you left your 81 cap in hospitality

→ landonorris she did that on purpose because the 4 cap was much better

→ YourUserName @ oscarpiastri can you bring it to family dinner for me?

User12 everyone is a ferrari fan

User13 wait, wait, wait. family dinner?! who’s in attendance, yn!!

User14 charles has followed her again!!!

→ User15 i genuinely thought he would follow max before he followed y/n again

pierregasly not the best weekend for alpine but as a die hard chary/n shipper, it was a perfect weekend

(comment deleted)

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1 year later

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by pierregasly, francisca.cgomes and others

charles_leclerc mon coeur, the day i met you, i was a silly teenage boy who spilt his drink over you at a karting event in a way to gain your attention. and now, many years later, i can proudly call myself your fiance. every moment spent with you feels like standing on top of that podium. thank you for allowing me to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of our lives

(to the general public, y/n says you have to be nice to me about my emotional caption. don’t forget, she’s a licenced lawyer now and can sue you all for defamation)

13,841 comments

pierregasly and to this day, i stand by the fact that telling you to spill your drink on her was the perfect way to gain her attention.

→ YourUserName i still can’t believe charles took your advice on how to flirt with women

→ pierregasly it worked though, didn’t it? and i am the proud boyfriend of beautiful kiks so, i am clearly master

→ YourUserName ew, keep your bedroom stuff to yourself

→ pierregasly you just lost your wedding present

oscarpiastri congrats you guys 🧡 i am so happy for you, my dad and future step-mother

→ YourUserName and you just got yourself banned from family dinner. i'm too young to be called stepmother

scuderiaferrari i think the theme should be disney cars

liked by YourUserName

landonorris simp

→ charles_leclerc @ YourUserName i told you he’d be mean

→ YourUserName sorry bebe but i’m not suing lando. his fans are tougher than i am

User1 charles can you fight? ‘cause your gf is too hot for you

→ charles_leclerc *fiancee

georgerussell63 mate, the fact that you managed to convince her to forgive you AND agree to marry you a year later

→ alex_albon it’s the dimples. who can resist

→ lilymhe is there something you’re not telling me?

→ alex_albon i’m in love with charles marc hervé perceval leclerc

→ YourUserName same

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YourUserName just posted

liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri and others

YourUserName the evidence is conclusive. your papa and i cannot wait to meet you, only another 5 months to go

#BabyLeclercComing2026

17,309 comments

charles_leclerc je t’aime plus chaque jour. you are the light of my life, as well as the day you agreed to be mine forever, you have made me the happiest man

oscarpiastri i can’t believe i’m going to be a big brother

→ charles_leclerc the bestest big brother

→ User2 i love that this joke is still running two years later

scuderiaferrari all i’m hearing is that we have roughly 5 months to build a baby seat into charles’ car

pierregasly omg omg omg omg omg. stay calm, stay calm. it’s HAPPENING

→ francisca.cgomes why did you have to tell him? now i have to talk him out of buying elaborate gifts

→ charles_leclerc i love how you’re both acting like you weren’t told on the weekend

→ pierregasly i’m just so excited!

→ YourUserName @ francisca.cgomes has he stopped crying yet?

→ francisca.cgomes no

maxverstappen1 i am so happy for you y/n. baby leclerc will make such an adorable addition to the red bull garage. you will make an amazing mother after the way you have bossed checo and me around these past two years

→ YourUserName i think you mean, cared for and cherished, not bossed

User3 wait, but isn’t this the reason charles and y/n broke up two years ago

→ User4 they broke up because charles was talking about kids straight away and y/n wasn’t ready. they’ve now been married for a year so i’m guessing she’s ready now

liked by YourUserName

redbullracing brb working on building a baby play area in the office so you don’t have to worry about childcare. i’m a good babysitter and we can babyproof the garage. it'll be great!

→ User5 i think it’s safe to say everyone at red bull are excited for baby y/n

schecoperez felicidades y/n and charles. what lovely news. mucho amor to you both

danielricciardo i ate way too many cupcakes at the announcement party though. i swear the frosting changed something inside me

→ User6 you’re telling me that the grid were invited to the baby announcement 🥹 be still my beating heart

→ User7 and according to inside sources, a few of them cried

→ alex_albon whoever’s telling you that i cried, don’t listen to them!

→ lilymhe don't lie to the people

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by YourUserName, maxverstappen1 and others

charles_leclerc when your little man can’t decide if he wants to be like his maman or papa from one day to the next so he combines both for his 5th birthday

15,384 comments

YourUserName not featured is baby lec running around with a mini gavel sentencing everyone to prison whilst wearing his race helmet

alex_albon i still think my sentence was a bit harsh

→ lilymhe you deserved those 10 minutes on the naughty step, you ate all the mini doughnuts!

→ alex_albon yes but he finished it by smashing me in the kneecaps with the gavel

→ YourUserName yeah, he gets that from charles, sorry

→ charles_leclerc 😱

redbullracing happy birthday to our favourite leclerc! we hope to see you back in the paddock soon

→ charles_leclerc stop trying to steal my son, you already have my wife!

→ YourUserName and i thought i was your favourite leclerc!

→ User8 admin going to have some angry parents to contend with on sunday

maxverstappen1 i still think uncle max wins best present

→ YourUserName i can’t believe you had it engineered to go that fast

→ pierregasly yes but uncle pierre will be helping papa charles to repaint it so it’s not covered in red bull logos

→ maxverstappen1 @ YourUserName if he does that, i’m going to unfollow him again

→ YourUserName ffs pierre, i just got them to publicly make up, kiks, tell him

→ franscisca.cgomes behave yourself

jensonbutton little man clearly knows his mum is way cooler

liked by charles_leclerc

danielricciardo please stop inviting me to events where there are cupcakes. i have no control and your mini monster just laughed as i sobbed whilst shoving another one in my mouth

→ landonorris i don’t think you should say these things online

charles_leclerc also not featured is y/n crying all morning about her baby boy growing up

→ YourUserName charl, don’t lie to the fans. they all know you’re the one crying

→ charles_leclerc but he was so little, and he used to come to work with us and now he’s telling us he wants to be just like his clever mummy and his fast daddy and - i just cannot 😭

→ maxverstappen1 @ YourUserName like i said on your wedding day, are you sure this is the one you want to marry?

→ YourUserName afraid so

→ charles_leclerc i would divorce you but you are a very good lawyer and i do not imagine i would come out of it so well

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Requests welcome. I will be doing more Part 1s for some of the other drivers.

Baby Fever Angst Series

Tag list

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