#haikyuu x yn angst

[calqlate]

US

SUMMARY: You are the side character of someone else's fairytale and you fall in love with the male lead of her story. You think, "Can a side character get their happy ending?", and you hope you can.

PAIRING: iwaizumi hajime x gn! reader

GENRE(S): angst (with a happy ending) + pining (one-sided) + second choice syndrome

CW(S)/TW(S): coarse/foul/strong language used

WC: 4657

MASTERLIST

In all cliché love stories, there would always be a love triangle between the protagonist, the good guy, and the playboy. The protagonist would always choose the bad boy, no matter what, and the good guy would always be there as moral support. That was simply the unspoken 'rule' that posed itself as a trend in all novels.

In your life, you felt that you were definitely not the protagonist. If your life were a movie, you supposed, you would probably be one of those good-natured side characters who appeared in the film from two to four times, maybe even an extra in a story. You know, the kind chef that appeared on page sixteen of the storybook, or the dutiful store assistant who was moving boxes in the back.

Now, you might be wondering who the protagonist was. It was Sawabe Nagi: skinny, fair-skinned, and popular. She was bubbly, well-liked, and beautiful to boot; she was practically born to be the main character. Like the typical protagonist she was, she chose the bad boy, Oikawa Tooru, the dashing heartthrob of Seijoh. The good guy here was then Iwaizumi Hajime, who happened to be the playboy's best friend and childhood friend.

Before the plot was written, the good guy had a backstory with the side character. (Perhaps this story would change the course of the actual story? We would never know.)

You walked into class with your earpieces plugged in as you scrolled through your Instagram feed. As you sat down, you happened to come across a ridiculously hilarious post, something like a text post regarding your favourite band, and you tried so hard not to laugh. The pressure of holding it in was so great that as a result, you snorted out loud. Your eyes widened in surprise and you immediately clapped a hand over your mouth, hoping no one heard it. Unfortunately for you, your desk neighbour Iwaizumi Hajime had heard you, and he threw you a curious glance.

A sudden thought popped into your head: Huh, Iwaizumi really almost never smiles. Almost timidly, you decided to show him the post that had caused your earlier embarrassing outburst. Cautiously, you slid your phone over onto his desk and said, "Look at it."

The tan ravenette looked up at you from your phone, meeting your gaze. You simply tilted your head towards your phone as a response, and he raised an eyebrow at you. He still looked back down at your phone anyway, after angling the device, and looked at the post. Slowly, his lips formed the grace of smile. Shortly after, a chuckle resonated from his throat.

"Seriously, Iwaizumi, you should smile more," you commented casually, pulling your earpieces out of your ears, "It suits you."

"You think so?" Iwaizumi asked, somewhat shyly, handing your phone back to you.

You nodded, taking your phone from him, then tucking it carefully into your blazer pocket.

"I'll give you my number so you can send me more of these, then," he said.

You stopped mid-movement, then you laughed slightly. Very smooth, Iwaizumi, very smooth.

Ever since that day, the two of you would talk, laugh at ridiculous posts either one of you found on the internet or social media, eat lunch, and do usual things friends did. Slowly, through the passage of time, you realised a few small things: how you looked forward to your mini rendezvous during lunch, how you automatically lit up whenever Iwaizumi smiled, laughed, or complimented you, and how you found yourself wanting to know him inside out and as well as the back of your hand.

The final epiphany settled in: through the passage of time, you had undoubtedly fallen in love with Iwaizumi Hajime.

Your world was filled with endless joy, dizzying euphoria, and pure bliss: you would spend the rest of your remaining high school years with Iwaizumi. There was, indeed, a small part of you deep down that was afraid to come clean with him, to tell him how you really felt about him. However, you decided that it was better to keep him in the dark. You would wait for the right time to tell him everything. Your desire could wait.

That was, until he told you that he liked Sawabe Nagi — that was what burst your unknowingly fragile bubble of innocence. It was as though your ideas of your future dreamlike days with him had simply disintegrated into thin air.

However, you decided to put your friendship first before your selfish wants: you put on a brave smile, hid your sadness and slight jealousy, and wished him all the best in courting Sawabe.

You continued to hang out with him, though it pained you knowing that he never felt the same way you did. It was definitely difficult to feign smiles and speak comfortably with him. You had also once considered putting some distance between the both of you, but your better judgement convinced you otherwise as you did not want to dump your pain onto Iwaizumi like that. It would not be fair to him at all.

One day, after an afternoon of rigorous training, you walked out and was heading to the gate when you spotted someone sitting with their head low under the tree, just near the gates. The figure's silhouette was unmistakable to you; it was none other than your spiky-haired deskie.

"Iwaizumi?" you said as you approached him cautiously, watching his every movement with great focus.

"Oh, hey," he said as he glanced up to look at you, smiling slightly as if — no, definitely — trying to hide his earlier gloomy mood, "You're done with practice?"

You noticed that his characteristically mesmerising deep charcoal eyes were rather red and puffy, with dried tears on his face — a seemingly vulnerable look you never thought you would see on his being. A somewhat glassy look was in his eyes, as if he was looking into the fog, desperately searching for something far away.

You knew that you were not that something he was looking for.

"Were you crying?" you asked as you sat down next to him, eyes still on him, not daring to break away for just a breath.

He knew there was not really any point lying about it, for he knew he was easy to read, especially with you since he spent most of his time with you these days, and he nodded in response. He dropped his gaze to his hands, which were balled into fists on his thighs.

"What happened?" you asked, then added hurriedly, "If you don't mind telling me. I won't judge, I swear."

"Sawabe rejected me," he said softly as more tears formed in his eyes, the painful words getting lodged in his throat, "She... she told me she was sorry, that she... likes Oikawa instead."

"I'm... sorry to hear that," you whispered, not really knowing how you should be feeling. A part of you was overjoyed by the thought of Iwaizumi not standing a chance with Sawabe, and another part of you was disgusted at yourself for feeling this way. However, one could not stop the heart for desiring what it wanted.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to envelop him in a hug to console him. Iwaizumi wrapped his arms around you in return and gripped onto your uniform tightly, burrowing his face into your shoulder and staining his tears on your blazer. You rubbed small circles on his back to further comfort him, not knowing what else to say but let him cry his heart out and let time soften his sobs.

"It seems like no one'll fall for me," he muttered in self-hate after he could not seem to cry any longer since his throat was getting raw and his tear ducts seemed to run out of tears, then he began to dry his tears and rest his chin on your shoulder as he chuckled dryly, "Not like it's that surprising, really."

"Are you kidding me?" your outburst was incredulous, with you pulling him away from the embrace and staring at him with widened eyes and furrowed brows, "I can't believe you thought so lowly of yourself; I fell in love with you within these two months, you know!"

Once those rambling words left your mouth, you turned red, slapped a hand over your mouth, and bit your lower lip. You began to berate yourself internally, What a wonderful time you chose to confess!

An awkward silence settled between the both of you, and you decided that he was officially disturbed by your sudden (and inappropriate) confession.

"S-Sorry, I should really get going," you muttered, then mumbled a flimsy excuse and dropped your hand to your side, gathered your belongings up, and prepared to leave. You were very much ready to get home to cry, wallow in your misery, and eat a tub full of ice cream.

"Thank you," Iwaizumi said suddenly which caused you to whirl your head at him, a small yet empathetic smile tugging at his lips, "It made my day."

Suddenly, you had this strong urge in you to say something ridiculous that popped up in your head, something that you knew only worked in Korean dramas, not real-life scenarios. However, it was worth a shot, right?

"Listen, Iwaizumi," you said, choosing your words very carefully, "I know this may sound stupid and one-sided, considering how you got... you know." You waved your hand in the air vaguely, not wanting to verbalise what Iwaizumi had been through a couple of hours ago, then continued, "Anyway, I'm sure I can treat you better than her, and I'm sure I can help you get over it."

There was a moment of silence.

Have I gone too far? you thought, fiddling with your thumbs nervously, Maybe I should just tell him to forget what I just said—

His reply cut you off mid-thought, "Then let's date."

"Seriously, [F/N], if you want to look at videos of corgi butts, do so when you're not walking," Iwaizumi sighed as he sat next to the bed which you were currently sitting on in the infirmary.

You, being hooked onto this never-ending list of corgi underside videos a friend had recommended to you, decided it would be a great idea to watch them while walking towards the indoor sports hall. It just so happened you were walking down a rather steep decline while doing so, did not see that you were about to trip over a sizeable pebble, and went tumbling down the hill. Luckily, you were not too high up the hill, so you managed to not sustain any severe injuries other than a twisted ankle. You were even luckier Iwaizumi was nearby, because he had been trying to find Oikawa who seemingly vanished from his classroom ("Probably to flirt with other girls," Iwaizumi would always say with a massive eye roll).

"You really are a good boyfriend, Hajime," you said with a grin as he simply shook his head at you.

It had been about a month since both of you started dating, and you had been trying your best to help Iwaizumi get over his rejection. The first step in your relationship was to address each other by your respective first names (which was your idea). Both of you were a little bit awkward at the initial stage, but soon got over it and became a second nature to the two of you.

"[L/N]? Iwaizumi?"

The curtains separating the both of you from the next bed was swept open by the school nurse, revealing a very pale Sawabe. Her dark hair made a stark comparison to her unhealthily white complexion. To finish off the staggering look, there was a pair of eye bags circling the bottom of her eyes.

Iwaizumi froze in place, like a deer caught in headlights. You immediately noticed this and contemplated whether you should reach over and squeeze his hand gently as a form of reassurance. After all, his hand was now (fortunately) close to yours.

"I guessed it was you guys judging from your voices," Sawabe added with a little laugh (even though no one really asked her).

You did not take the chance and your hand remained glued to your side. Iwaizumi's hand was now drawn back to his side as he stood up.

"Sawabe? What happened to you?" Iwaizumi asked, walking up to her, an even more concerned expression taking over his face compared to the one he had given you, "Where's Trashikawa?"

"Tooru said he was busy and couldn't come, because he said he had some extra volleyball practice he wanted to put in," the brunette replied, "As for me, it isn't anything serious. Just a couple of things went wrong. I'm fine now."

You averted your gaze from the pair, clenching your hands into fists. You knew it was fine for Iwaizumi got get worried over sawabe since they were friends, but you could not help yourself and felt jealous. The way they conversed sounded as though they were dating, which seemed like a punch to your gut.

This also seemed to further highlight your incompetence in the whole point you and Iwaizumi were dating in the first place. Iwaizumi still seemed to hold a special place for his former love after all.

You then knew, I can't hold a candle to Sawabe.

Slowly, you slipped off the bed and limped to the doorway as quickly and quietly as you possibly could. You wanted to leave while you still had some control over your emotions, before it was too late and you started crying and made both a scene and a fool out of yourself.

Iwaizumi never noticed your disappearance, and you never felt your heart ache so badly before.

After practice, you switched your phone on to see a few messages from Iwaizumi. Earlier, you had turned it off after you fled the scene in the infirmary, not wanting to hear anything from Iwaizumi or anyone, really. Since you had busted your ankle, you could not take part in track activities, so you sat by the bleachers and finished up some of your biology homework. In the end, the coach told you to go home and get some rest.

Tentatively, your thumb hovered over his name in your inbox before you finally decided to read his messages.

Hajime: Are you at practice now?

Hajime: Why did you leave so suddenly?

Hajime: I'm sorry, I won't be walking home with you today. I have to walk Sawabe home since Trashikawa is still practicing and no one's home to fetch her.

Hajime: Text me when you get home, okay?

Kissing your teeth, sighing inwardly, and not wanting to answer, you put on some music and shoved your phone into your blazer pocket. Subconsciously, you knew Iwaizumi would still be worried over Sawabe. Your heart twisted in jealousy at this.

When you arrived home, you decided to switch your phone to aeroplane mode to refrain from any distractions while you were revising. The first exam was coming in a month's time; you could not afford to relax. You put on your Spotify playlist meant for effective studying and locked yourself in your room for a solid hour.

After a good hour of revision, you checked the time on the digital clock which stood on your table: 6.45 pm.

The thoughts of Iwaizumi walking Sawabe back home flooded your mind. Did he really move on, or does he still have something for her? Your eyebrows furrowed as your brain spiraled further into confusing thoughts, everything getting tangled in a chaos.

Not wanting to waste any time thinking about it, you buried your face into your arms as you crossed them on your desk, closing your eyes and willing yourself to stop worrying. Before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.

Knock knock. Knock knock.

The sound of gentle knocking woke you right up. Rubbing your eyes and blinking, you caught sight of someone at your window, fist to your window panels. You squinted at the rather well-built figure hovering by your window before your eyes widened in recognition. 

Iwaizumi?

Quickly, you rushed over (all while limping) and opened the window to let him in. Panic filled your veins as you opened the grilles.

"What are you doing? This is the second floor!" you berated him as he tumbled inside and onto your bedroom floor, "Why didn't you use the front door like a normal human being?"

"N-No one answered when I rang the doorbell, so I decided to climb up instead," he answered, and you noticed he sounded out of breath.

"Why are you breathless?" you asked, "Did you run over or something?"

"Yeah, I ran here since I got worried about you," he answered as he tried to catch his breath after sitting up, watching you carefully, "You left my texts on read and didn't read any of my new ones."

You just let out a soft sigh and said, "Come on, let's go downstairs and I'll get you something to eat."

Iwaizumi helped you down the steps (since you were injured, after all) and to the living room and was told to sit down, only he refused, because he pointed out you were still limping. You did not bother to argue with him and let him follow you.

The two of you then headed to the kitchen to get some biscuits and two glasses of milk, which Iwaizumi insisted on carrying. Both of you headed back to the living room with your snacks and sat comfortably on the sofa, with Iwaizumi balancing the plate of biscuits on his thighs.

After a few moments of hearing the sounds of crunching biscuits, he said, "Hey, let's play a game."

"Alright, fine," you said, reaching for another biscuit, "What do you have in mind?"

"Truth or dare," Iwaizumi replied simply, chewing his biscuit thoughtfully, "Now, truth or dare?"

"Truth," you answered without hesitation, popping the biscuit into your mouth.

"What do you think of our relationship?" he asked, then pointing between both of you, "You know, us."

There was a short moment of deafening silence (not even the prior sounds of biscuit chewing was heard) before you answered with a defeated look in your eyes, "There was never an 'us'."

He raised his eyebrows in curiosity, What do you mean?

"I love you," you proclaimed suddenly, turning your head to meet his gaze heads-on in determination.

No response. He just could not bring himself to say it. The words were lodged in his throat, being barricaded by an unknown force from escaping his lips, which were tightly shut. This silence confirmed your suspicions; this silence was as loud as a lion's deafening roar, an obvious statement of impending heartbreak and goodbyes.

"See?" you said softly, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, and you immediately looked away, "That's exactly what i mean."

Quickly, you wiped your tears away, put on your best smile, and said, "Okay, your turn. Truth or dare?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of his phone ringing cut him off.

"Sorry," he mouthed as he took his phone out of his trouser pocket and glanced at the caller ID (he looked somewhat scared, but of what?), then answering, "Hello?"

"Iwaizumi? Could you come back to keep me company?" Sawabe's voice was unmistakable from the other line, causing you to further shrink down in your seat, "I'm kinda afraid of being alone."

"I'm coming over," he answered without missing a beat before ending the call.

You whirled your head over and looked into his eyes, yours full of hurt and sorrow. Though you knew he had probably never genuinely loved you like a true lover from the start, you never expected him to ditch you for someone else, that someone being the previous apple of his eye.

Though, could Sawabe still be counted as 'previous'? Iwaizumi cared about her; he clearly still had her as his number one priority, it seemed.

Your head started to spin with wild thoughts as you watched him place the plate of remaining biscuits on the table: Was he really going to her? did he never get over her? Did he ever see me as his significant other?

"I'm sorry, [F/N]. I really am," Iwaizumi said, a look of sorrow and regrets gracing his face (the very face you came to love), before giving a slight bow and exiting the house.

You sat there, eyes hollow, head silent, heart broken. You did not know what else to think. The only thing you knew was that you were tired. You were tired of chasing someone who had another goal in their eyes. You were tired of trying to be the missing puzzle piece in someone else's life. You were tired of illusionising yourself that the one you truly loved reciprocated your feelings.

In the end, the joke was on you. You were left alone with nothing else, just you and your broken heart that had been shattered into tiny shards that lay around your feet.

In cliché romance movies, the protagonist gets into a messy love triangle and falls in love with the bad boy.

And in this film, you were just a side character who liked the good guy, but never had your love acknowledged.

You walked into class with your earpieces plugged in, muting the unpleasant world that surrounded you. Life still went on even though bad things happen, but you can still angrily say "Fuck you" to the world who bestowed empty promises upon you and wallow in self-pity.

In all retrospect, you had been thinking about how your relationship between you and Iwaizumi had been, and by judging the latest (dramatic) turn of events, it was not going to get far in the long run.

Once you placed your books and materials on your desk, you could hear a muted voice saying through your earpieces, "Good morning."

Though it was faint through the loud dance music you were playing, you still knew the voice's owner. After all, it was the voice you had come to love, too.

"H — Iwaizumi," you said simply as you took out your earpiece, cursing yourself mentally for the slip of your tongue. (You cringed inwardly at your second action following your response; you probably looked way too excited when you heard him call out to you. Bad habits were indeed hard to break.)

"I-I'm really sorry about yesterday," Iwaizumi muttered, looking down at the floor with his hands shoved in his pockets, not daring to meet your gaze on him that you were actually imposing yourself to do.

Without saying a word, you grabbed his hand and led him out of the classroom. Class was not going to start until another thirty minutes or so, anyway. You had more pressing matters at hand to discuss with him rather than something that was going to be forgotten in a few years.

You swiftly pushed past the hordes of students who were either gossiping about Oikawa, talking about a weekend party, or some other useless junk, bringing him to the school rooftop.

The school rooftop seemed like a secret haven: free of students' chatter, free of judgement, free of suffocating criticism.

You let go of him and walked a few steps forward, your back faced towards him.

"Are... you okay?" he asked tentatively. You had never behaved like this before, so this was completely new for him.

Without turning around, you said, "I've been thinking a lot since last night."

You turned around and looked into his eyes, hoping that what you were doing was right. You did not want to say it (you never would if you had the option to), but you wanted to spare yourself from the torture and did not want yourself to do this any longer. After all, it proved that your attempts to get him to move on failed. Love can be such a powerful force.

"Let's break up," you said simply, trying to keep your gaze levelled and not let your emotions take control and ruin this any further.

"What?" Iwaizumi coughed out with widened eyes, a little dumbfounded by this twist of events. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect you to break up with him. After all, you were the one who asked to date in the first place.

"This relationship is one-sided, and it's going nowhere," you stated, "So there's really no point continuing it. It's hurting both of us. Besides, it seems like I didn't help you get over her."

You took a quick and deep breath and continued, "It isn't good for any of us. so, let's break up and spare one another."

Feeling tears sting your eyes, you quickly strode past him, not wanting to let him see you break down. You willed yourself not to cry until you made it past that door back into the campus. It was going so well, too, so why—

Suddenly, you felt a warm and larger hand take hold of your wrist. The same hand pulled you back into someone's arms. It was Iwaizumi, of course, bringing you into his embrace, just like how you had done for him when you found him near the school gates being upset over Sawabe's reveal of her true feelings a month ago.

"You did help me," he said gently, "You're very special to me, and you've brightened my life. You've made me see the world in a different light, a different perspective, and for that, I want to thank you."

That was not exactly what you wanted to hear, but it still made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. Before you knew it, you found yourself wrapping your arms around his torso and you leaned further in, your head pressing into his chest and you could hear his steady heartbeat resembling a siren song.

"If you would give me a second chance, I will tell you those three words one day," Iwaizumi said, with sincerity embedded in his words.

"So you're going to force yourself to love me?" you asked, breaking the embrace and looking up at him with a somewhat offended look, "Because I don't want you to. It's not right to the both of us."

"I'm not," he answered quickly, then explained, "I'm unsure of my feelings as of now, but if you would give me a second chance..."

He reached for your hand, encased it within his larger one, and continued with sincerity in his eyes, "I'm sure I won't hurt you again."

You bit your lip as your heart struggled to make a decision. The rational part of you wanted to refuse and say no, to put an end to this tragic tale. However, the lovesick fool in you convinced you otherwise. A second chance would not hurt anybody, and maybe there would come a day where Iwaizumi would really say those three words you longed to hear with a sincere heart.

"Alright," you stepped forward and squeezed his hands, "I'll wait for you."

"Thank you," he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into the crook of your neck, warmth spreading throughout his body. Moving on will be difficult, but for you, he was willing to do it and free himself from Sawabe's grasp.

In all cliché romance films, the protagonist gets into a love triangle and chooses the bad boy. The good guy supports them and thinks he is unloved, when there is a minor side character wanting and waiting to be with him, for him to extend his hand and accept their love, but never getting their happy ending.

It seems like, in this romance movie, the side character does get their own happily ever after after all.

[emmyrosee]

Kenma loves you. He'd do everything for you.

But right now, five minutes away from marrying you, he's having one of the worst panic attacks in his life. Who thought inviting this many people to a wedding was a good idea? Who thought his social anxiety could manage that?

And when he manages to work himself into an absolute mess, clutching his chest as he grunts and pants into the air, he thinks this is it. This is when it crumbles, he’s going to pass out, and when he wakes up, you’re going to have left him for someone better, someone who can offer you the life you deserve.

Even with Kuroo cupping his cheeks in his hands, begging him to breathe and ground himself, asking him to look for colors and do basic math, it’s not enough. Now, there’s too many eyes on him, too many voices in his head, too much judgement. His world is spinning faster.

Until you come in.

You, pushing Kuroo out of the way, resting your forehead against Kenma’s as your thumbs roll over his hot cheeks, come in to save him, like a knight in shining armor. He grabs at you, letting the textures guide him back to some form of grounded, enough where the ringing in his ears stops and he can finally, finally, get a breath in.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey,” he managed, but its tight and choked and filled with snot.

You don’t care. You move a hand to gently pet his hair, smoothing the messy locks from his face and hooking them behind his ear.

“Whats got you so spooked? Huh?”

“C-ant. Tell you.”

“Shhh, okay. That’s okay. Thank you for letting me know.”

Because kenma can’t tell you he can’t go out there and marry you in front of all those people. You’ll be heartbroken. But for now, all he can do is indulge in your touch and whimper out a few more sobs, hoping the feeling of suffocation will let off of his chest within a few more moments.

[ghost-recs]

Oikawa SMAU Rec

nonsense by @idlerin

synopsis: university student, chaotic friend group, and up and coming actor/model oikawa tooru as your secret ex, what could go wrong?

the perfect combination of angst, cuteness, and humor that left me a puddle for oikawa tooru (i highly recommend the playlist too, pls pls).

syrup by @eggyrocks

synopsis: oikawa, to put it bluntly, is love sick. unfortunately, there is a bit of an obstacle in the way of his happy ever after with you...

lots of crack and chaos. humor that has me going. [ongoing...]

pose for me by @authentictiramis

synopsis: vlogging au where two groups decide to collab, simping ensues.

short and sweet, full of fluff and some humor. cute!

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 008 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

c/w. modern royal au. infidelity. angst. gaslighting. toxic characters. toxic relationships. mentions of neglect and abuse. hurt and comfort. unedited.

notes. thank you to everyone who waited patiently, i hope you guys enjoy this chapter <3 this will be the beginning of kiyoomi arc!

wc. 11k

series masterlist | next

[ EIGHT ] all they keep asking me is if I’m gonna be your bride – the only kind of girl they see is a one-night or a wife

The Kingdom of Inarizaki was at a loss whether to celebrate the early return of the latest married couple from their honeymoon. The couple seemed to be doing great – according to the tabloids, anyway. When they arrived, the Princes and their wives waved to the people, all eager for a glimpse of the infamous couple who had married for love. For two years, society had their eyes on you – the shy, reserved noblewoman who caught the eye and heart of their one and only Crown Prince Suna Rintaro. And oh, what a wedding it was, broadcasted all over the world and celebrated like a holiday.

What the world didn’t know was that it was an entirely different story behind the Palace walls.

You may share a bedroom, but never the bed. You’d been acquainted with the couch for the next few nights, only seeing your husband once in the mornings before he left to do his duties, and every now and then when the Queen wanted to have dinner. Not that you were complaining – the space was most appreciated. Without Suna lingering, there’d be less reminders of how much of a fool he took you. A naïve, young woman who really deluded herself into believing a Prince could want her. Although…

Suna didn’t not want you, either.

In the few spaces in between, he would look for you. He would make small talk and ask if you’ve eaten. If you liked breakfast, which was a silly question, since it was always tea and waffles. If you enjoyed yourself while he was away, this, again, was a silly question. You spent the mind–numbing hours blaming yourself for being in this predicament. That, perhaps, if you had just been brave to walk away that night you found out the truth, then you wouldn’t be out here wondering if the maids’ whispers were true �� that Suna spent most of his nights at Belleview Manor, because quote unquote, “he was unwelcome in his own quarters.”

As if somehow it was your fault he did not feel comfortable to sleep under the same roof with you.

Sighing, you flipped your novel closed. No one had given you official duties yet, other than the blatantly obvious one of giving the Crown Prince an heir. ‘They will have such sleepless nights!’, the Queen’s goons crooned. ‘So young and virile, they are, we’ll have a new Crown Prince in no time!’ Oh, if only it were that easy. If there were to be a Prince, Iris would most likely be the mother, considering he saw her more often than you did. And how funny of a thought that was – you wanted distance from him, yet something died inside you little by little the colder your room got.

“Since we have returned, my schedule will be full.”

You glanced up from where you sat. Suna had sauntered back into the room, his tie loosened; hair messed up like he ran his fingers through it several times. Already, a servant stood beside him to comb his hair back neatly. You couldn’t help but stare. How long had it been since you combed his hair for him? You knew he hated it when they gelled it back. He preferred it messy and unkempt, saying his bedroom hair felt most natural. The bedroom hair he’s shown only to you in the quiet breaks of the night when he was in your bed.

The bedroom hair Iris had seen, as well.

Just the thought of it forces a smile on your face. Standing up, you brushed off the imaginary dust off your skirt. Less than a week in the Palace, and you were already so miserable. You could at least try to look less bothered by his unrequited affections.

“Do what you must.”

Once his hair had been brushed to perfection, Suna gestured for his servant to step away. The man politely bowed down before exiting the room. “I mean to say,” he continued, stepping closer now that there was no one else around. Your breath hitched the closer he got, but you dared not move, not even when his warm, familiar hand cups the curve of your cheek. “The meetings I must attend and people to deal with will take up most of my time.”

You knew what he was trying to say – that he wouldn’t be around, and you had to entertain yourself in his absence. Gently, you take a step back from his touch, watching as an unreadable expression crosses his face.

“And as I have said, do what you must. I have my own duties to fulfill as well.”

“You do not sound bothered by this.”

“Why should I be?” you shrugged, “If I am to be stuck with you for the rest of my life, surely I can enjoy what little time left I have for myself.”

Suna’s lips thinned. “You could act a little less eager to get rid of me.”

“On the contrary, I have no intention of leaving.”

“So I will see you tonight?”

“If we run into each other at the palace, yes, yes you will.”

If he seemed discontent with your half–hearted response, he did not show it. Must be the practiced regality and composure befitting for a Crown Prince like him – all lazy, yet wary, watching eyes. He, too, must know the true meaning behind your words. There was no need to pretend.

You both knew Suna would run into Belleview Manor as soon as the night ends, and his duties for the day had been tended to. Meanwhile, his wife would stay up all night in her couch.

Not quite waiting for him, but not quite imagining if he slept better at her side, either.

It was an unspoken deal between you two already. So he leaves without another word, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding when the door finally slams shut.

Tears prick at your eyes for the umpteenth time. You were tired of this. Tired of not knowing where you truly were in his life – were you his wife, his friend? After you’d heard of his passion and dedication to Iris, you weren’t so evil to stop him from seeing her. He loved her first. And you of all people should know the pain of not having the one person you wanted most. To him, she was his unattainable treasure. She was already making him smile before you even came to his life. She was already offering companionship and the comfort he desperately needed in this tiresome world of politics and power. She was his solace in all this chaos.

And you… you were just his wife. And without a baby in your belly, you might as well be just another useless figure in the Palace.

You refused to be so.

You may be worthless to him as his wife, for you truly couldn’t have his heart, but you refused to be a worthless person. Deep down, you knew you weren’t. It was just the title of ‘Princess’ that made you feel incapable and short. Did that mean you weren’t meant to be Princess, then? Should you go back to your manor, learning how to handle the household and managing the family business like your parents taught?

If you were not for Suna, did that mean you were not for the Crown, as well?

You bit your lip in contemplation. There was only one person who could provide you a solution to this.

“It is not every day I am summoned by a Princess,” a smooth, deep voice filtered through the garden. Smiling, you stood up to greet the Third Prince. A curtsy, a bow, and soon you two were sipping tea – the momentary peace a guise of what was to come. Kita must have sensed it, too, his gaze flitting over your pinched face with understanding and patience. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Surely we are not here to discuss the pleasantries of your honeymoon.”

You grimaced. “Definitely not. There were no pleasantries to begin with.”

His face fell.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you… My apologies. I’m not sure how to proceed with this.”

Nodding, you set your tea town. You had a feeling he truly meant his apology, which felt good, seeing as most of the Princes had too much pride to know the word ‘sorry.’ But you hd always known that Prince Kita was unlike the other Princes – he had more honor, and a stronger sense of morality compared to his brothers. Maybe it was due to his being raised by his mother, who was a lawyer, and therefore was not so exposed to the greed and competition experienced by the other Princes.

Whatever it was, he was just different. And you could rely on him to be truthful, too.

“Have you always known about them?” you muttered, refusing to look at the Prince’s face in fear of being met with pity. That was the last thing you wanted – to be seen as the poor, unwanted wife. “Iris and Rintaro?”

“I have.”

“I see.”

Kita sighed. “Please don’t misunderstand, Princess. I never meant to keep it from you. None of us did – except for those truly involved. It was just… I grew up with them, too. Keiji and I were only a year ahead of Rintaro and Iris. When I heard the Crown Prince had become acquainted with a foreign royal scholar, we didn’t think too much of it. Her sudden marriage with Kiyoomi surprised us all, and none of us would’ve thought that her friendship with Rintaro would turn into something more.”

“You don’t need to explain all of this to me, Your Highness.”

“Perhaps, but…” reaching over the table, the Prince squeezed your knuckle. You chuckled, not having realized you’d balled up your hands into a fist. It turned out you couldn’t fool anyone, not even yourself, to act like you didn’t care how much it all hurt. “I do not want you to think I am not on your side.”

“You do not need to be on my side. He is your brother.”

“Blood means little to me when my own kind is cruel to others,” he retorted, looking offended you would suggest otherwise. “I have always been against it, Princess. I told him from the beginning that to covet one’s brother’s wife is one thing, but to involve someone else, all for his selfish reason of ascending a throne that was always rightfully his just seemed heartless.”

Heartless. Gods. To know that your husband was capable of being cruel was one thing, but to hear it coming from his own brother’s lips was another.

“But Rintaro is Rintaro. Of course he is stubborn.”

“Indeed, he is,” Prince Kita sighed in defeat, leaning back against his seat as he stroked his chin in thought. “Princess, while I cannot guarantee I can take all of your woes away, I want you to know you can trust me. If there is anything you need, let me know and I will do it for you. It’s the least I can do to make your stay here in the Palace tolerable.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do, and I am a man of my word.”

“Then I suppose there’s no point beating around the bush,” you gritted your teeth, forcing the words to come out.

It had always been a lingering thought at the back of your mind – to leave Rintaro – but there was this prideful, equally stubborn voice at the back of your head telling you it was too early to give up. That you needed to fight. But what was there to fight for? It wasn’t like Rintaro would learn to love you. And neither do you plan on wooing him. So, instead, you swallowed up your pride and called for Kita, knowing he would never judge you for the choices you were about to make.

“I actually called for you today because I wish to discuss royal marital laws, possibly with your mother. She would know about it best.”

“You need legal counsel,” he caught on, and you nod, “I can arrange that. I assume you want it discreetly, too. That is no problem at all. But if I may be bold, I wish to ask something from you in return.”

“Name your price.”

“It is about this maid that I am fond of. Airi,” her name came out breathily from his mouth, almost like a whisper. You noticed the Prince glancing around the empty garden almost warily, though you already took measures to ensure no one would be around to witness this conversation. Reassured, Kita sat up straighter and looked you in the eye, nothing but sincerity and determination in his expression. “I will do anything you ask of me, as long as it is within legal reasons, if you take her in as your personal maid.”

“I’ve heard rumors about you having affections for a maid in your quarters,” you mumbled, feeling almost sorry for the kind–hearted Prince. It seemed he, too, did not escape the heartbreaking torment for falling for a person you could never have. “So it is true, after all.”

“It is. You seem surprised about it. Is it so shocking to learn of a Prince having genuine feelings for another?”

You shook your head. “Not at all. I think I should know best that passion is something you brothers certainly have,” you snort, and Kita fights back a grin. “Very well, then. I will take care of your lovely maid, although I do wish to know – why are you assigning her to me? Have you… done anything to stain her honor?”

The color seeped out of the Prince’s face.

“I would never do such a thing.”

“I figured you wouldn’t.”

Kita’s shoulders squared before he exhaled. “Airi is… Ever since I set my sights on her, she has been in danger. People have been very unkind towards her, especially with the staff in my quarters. And as much as I would love having her by my side in my every waking hour, it would break my heart to know that she is being looked down upon simply because I admire her. But I figure with her at your side, with a new assignment, she will have some peace.”

Your heart ached for him. You could tell this was not an easy decision to make, but a necessary one if he wanted to ensure his lover’s well-being.

“You can still see her, Your Highness. It’s not like I will take her away from you.”

“I wouldn’t let you, either, but these are very difficult times for everyone in the Palace. The security of the throne weakens every day. The Parliament is restless, and there is only so little I can do with all these failed unions,” he rattled on, eyes widening when he realized it too late. Bowing his head, the Prince’s brows furrowed. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to–”

“Our marriage is not a failed union. Not yet. I will make certain it will not be a failure.”

It couldn’t be a failure. There was only one way out of this dreadful marriage, and as much as you hated it, that exit only existed in a path where you had no choice but to let him be a great King. This is why you need Kita’s mother’s counsel. Surely there could be a loophole in the clause that would invalidate the marriage. But until that opportunity presents itself, you were stuck here in this Castle, surrounded by everyone but your husband.

You had to make it work.

“With all due respect, Princess,” sighs the Prince, looking more remorseful than irritated. “Why is it that you try so hard? You do not need to stay with him, you know. It may be against the law for royal marriages to be annulled, but surely we can find a way. You do not need to torture yourself by spending one more day with your husband.”

“I know that.”

“Then why do you stay?”

“Because,” you croaked out, feeling a lump grow in your throat. “Because loving him is all I had known, and perhaps it is time I learn to despise him, as well.”

Silence stretches. The prince sat there, unmoving, as your words hang in the thick air between you two. You knew he would understand; he wouldn’t judge. But there is still concern in his handsome features that made you realize how pitiful you really are. And maybe there was no one else to blame but yourself, because you were foolish, and in love. But you were trying – by the Gods, you really were doing your best – to just be in love and not have to be foolish anymore.

Kita could see this as well. Your strength, your grit. He could see everything from where he sat, and that was why he simply nodded. “Are you getting there yet?”

“I will get there someday.”

Before the Prince could say anything else, a servant appeared from the bushes. He looked sheepish upon the intrusion, an apologetic smile on his face directed to the Prince. “Your Highness. It is time for your lessons.”

The Prince sent you a knowing look. This was not to be the last time you see each other, and you smiled up at him, grateful. It felt good to have at least one person you could lean on in the Palace. You stood up, too, shaking his hand just as his servant excused himself. If your memory did not fail you, the Third Prince studied law outside of the Palace and had to attend university, unlike his brothers who had chosen to indulge in their promised wealth after graduating high school.

“Excuse me, Your Highness. I have matters to attend to, but my words still ring true – I am only a call away should you need me.”

“Thank you so much for your time, my Prince.”

“It was my pleasure. I will inform you right away of my mother’s availability.”

“Oh, and Princess,” piped up the servant from somewhere around the bushes, “Princess Maiko is looking for you. She is waiting for you in her drawing room.”

You should’ve expected that Princess Maiko would come looking for you. The whole ordeal she witnessed back at your rest house must have come as a shock for her. Sure, her marriage didn’t go so well, either, but at least Tooru hadn’t gone around sleeping with someone else. For a man who didn’t want to get married, he kept to his vow of loyalty to his wife. Still, you didn’t want this to be a competition on who had it worse – Maiko was simply worried, and you had to explain yourself for your untoward behavior on everyone’s getaway.

“Princess! Oh my gosh – how are you?! I was worried sick!”

“Princess,” you return her hug, smiling despite the fact the smaller Princess had a bone–crushing grip. “Thank you for your concern, but I assure you, I am well.”

“Oh, Princess, you couldn’t be,” she pulled back with tears in her eyes. You almost apologized on the spot now that you remembered demanding to return to the City without informing the others why. Especially not Maiko, who seemed to be clueless. “I… I heard from Tooru about everything. The entire situation with Iris and the Crown Prince – truly, I did not know a single thing. If I had, I would have told you right away.”

“I know, and I’m thankful for your support.”

You squeeze her hand in reassurance, and the Princess leads you to sit on the couch. She slumps on it rather ungracefully, her innocent, wide eyes moist as she shakes her head.

“I had no idea Iris could do that. I just… the moment she arrived in the palace, she was so lovely, you know? She was always a little reserved, and liked to keep to herself, but I never would’ve guessed. I truly thought she was a good friend of mine, and now I have no idea who she really is.”

“Neither did I.”

“How are you, though? And please, tell me the truth. You do not need to pretend all is well.”

You shrug half-heartedly. “I am the Crown Prince’s wife. I must learn to be strong.”

“You mustn’t torture yourself any longer,” she licks her lips, chuckling without a trace of humor in it. “Although I do not blame you for staying in a marriage without love,” she smiled sadly, holding your hand firmer where it sat on her lap. “What do you plan to do?”

“I will divorce him,” you announced, and finally saying it loud felt different than just having the thought float in your head. It now felt like a reality. A choice you had to be firm in making. Licking your lips, you couldn’t help but glance at the beautiful wedding ring sitting on your finger – how just like your marriage, it is sparkling yet meaningless.

Leaving him would be the right choice. It would not mean you were weak.

“Once I meet with Kita’s mother and work our way around the law… I’m going to leave him. If it is a proper marriage he wants, then it is the one thing he will not get,” braving to look her in the eyes, you force a determined smile. “I believe it is the right thing to do, Your Highness. I must pick my battles wisely.”

“I understand, and I support you if this is what you want to do.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

“Although…”

“Although?”

“I still find it hard to believe,” she quipped, momentarily letting go of your hand as she stood up, pacing around the room. Her dark hair, neatly braided and adorned with headpieces, slowly started falling into curled pieces around her delicate face with how fast she’d been pacing. Almost as if her feet couldn’t quite keep up with her thoughts. “Iris and Kiyoomi had been married for five years, and Tooru told me they’d loved each other long before then. I am aware I am not the best at reading the room, but surely I am not so foolish to miss the love in their eyes. I would have known, Your Highness, I swear.”

You smile, confused. “I… am not sure I understand what you mean.”

“I mean Iris never looked in love,” she reiterated. “Granted, she was never affectionate with Kiyoomi, so that much is clear, but with the Crown Prince? They barely even speak to each other.”

“You couldn’t have known if they did spend time together,” you told her as softly as you could, “I heard they often hid in Belleview Manor, away from the eyes of the public.”

“But I live here,” she argued, and you stopped trying to butt in. For such a small thing, you had already learned once Maiko had her head set on something, almost nothing could stop her. “I live in Honor Hall, just five minutes away from them! I could have heard something. And on the few times I do see them together, Iris had always seemed… walled off. If Rintaro was able to display his affections openly, Iris was not the same. That night you weren’t at the house, they did not seem like a happy couple to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Maiko shook her head again, causing more curls to loosen. “They seemed familiar with each other, but not intimate. It was almost as if they were lovers purely in the bedroom, but they couldn’t have known each other’s heart,” her eyes lit up, before it dimmed again when she took in your somber expression. “I do not mean to give you false hope, Princess, but believe me. I know a man in love when I see one, and it is not the Crown Prince with Iris. But… but when you were not married yet, everyone could tell the Crown Prince smiled more. He laughed often, too, and he even spent more time with his brothers.”

“Well, that is only natural. He has a lot of siblings. Of course he would enjoy their company.”

“No, no, you do not understand, Princess. The Crown Prince… didn’t grow up that way,” she bit her lip, and then scooted next to you. “As the only son of the King and Queen, he was already more important than the rest. Because of that, he was raised differently – away and isolated from his brothers. He was always tutored alone, and never played with the other Princes. He spent his childhood locked up in his study, but then the Queen allowed him to attend regular school, and when he graduated… he met you. And I swear, he was different then.”

“Because he already met her,” you remarked, hoping she would stop already. Rintaro does not love you. “He’d become happier because Iris was already in his life.”

“I went to the same school with them; grew up with them. I had crushed on Prince Tooru for so long that I followed wherever he went, and where Tooru was, the Crown Prince would follow. They were born just months apart. And Iris never made the Crown Prince look… look…”

“Look what?”

“Look content,” she finally supplied. “But when the Crown Prince introduced you to us, he had this look on his face. When you spoke to others, he would always be looking at you, listening to your every word. Even when you were not in the same room, he would speak fondly of you. And he even once told me he still could not believe someone as precious as you had been attending the same lousy balls he’d been enduring all his life. He said that if he had met you earlier, he might have never skipped out attending the dances.”

“I don’t know,” your lips trembled, “I do not know what to do, Princess. Hearing of this does not make it any better.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but you must understand,” she squeezed your hand, desperation evident in her tone. “Your husband looks at you the way I wished mine would at me. He may say otherwise, but his eyes cannot lie. He softens when you are around, Princess. That night you did not return home at Greenville, the Crown Prince could not sleep at all. And these past few days…”

“I believe that is enough. I do not wish to hear how he spent his nights at Belleview.”

“He didn’t, Your Highness. The Crown Prince has never even spoken to Iris ever since we returned from your honeymoon.”

Rintaro could count the number of things pissing him off with one hand.

One: You had barely acknowledged his existence the past few days.

Two: Iris wouldn’t stop pulling him into dark, secluded corners in the Castle each time she chanced upon him. Two-point-five: She couldn’t understand he was not in the mood for another one of their trysts.

Three: Kiyoomi skipped another meeting concerning Itachiyama again.

Seriously, Rintaro understood being a Prince was tiresome work. It was not as grandiose as the tabloids made it out to be. Even in his sleep, he sometimes dreamt of paperwork, or he would wake up in the middle of the night with his hands signing off imaginary papers. The pressure was tougher on Kiyoomi, too, because he was expected to be ready to take after Wakatoshi at any time he even faltered – note: the First Prince never did – and to also act as representative for the other territory thanks to his birthright. But his brother was an hermit, and seemed to fear the sunlight, considering he never left his quarters. Or on the rare occasions he did, he would be hiding away in other countries doing who knows what.

He had just finished a meeting with some of the territory leaders regarding a public complaint that the price of goods had gone up, and some daily necessities were now ridiculously overpriced. One of the main suppliers of good livestock and coconuts, Itachiyama, made it even more expensive – not for any good reason, just that their leader loved to remind Inarizaki constantly that they needed him more than he needed the monarchy.

His goading affected his people, and Rintaro has had enough. Kiyoomi could at least try to pretend to be interested in the meetings. Out of all the nine princes, Kiyoomi was the most influential for being a half-blood. The Itachiyama president adored him. He wouldn’t have had to struggle negotiating for prices had he been doing his work. He was the damned mediator between the two countries, for goodness’ sake!

And to make it all worse, his life did not get any better outside the meeting rooms.

No, because his wife was intent on acting like he did not exist. And on the few times he did manage to be in the same space as you without you running off, you always looked through him. Like he wasn’t even a real person. As if he was just an apparition, a ghost in your mind that you could overlook if you tried hard enough.

He already knew you wouldn’t be in your quarters once he returned, but Rintaro still couldn’t help the pang of disappointment washing over him. He chose you to be his future Queen for many reasons, one of them being your wisdom in these kinds of things. You just needed a little encouragement to speak up, but Rintaro was confident you would make a great leader. You had genuine care for your people. You would have been able to help him make the best decisions for everybody – if you would just listen to him. Wasn’t that how marriages work? To share the burden of the Crown together? The Crown was too heavy for one person alone, which is why Kings cannot be crowned without their Queens.

Rintaro couldn’t do it alone. Each day was becoming more challenging for him, and he so desperately wished he could discuss the country’s future with you. He would feel more confident in his choices. He would be more reassured that he was doing the right thing, but it seemed that all he knew how to do lately was fuck everything up.

On his way back, Rintaro stopped trying to look regal. He let his shoulders slump and ran his fingers through his hair again. The gel be damned. Loosening his tie, he rolled his shoulders back and winced at how stiff his back was. Sitting on his ass all day long, having to listen to old men argue back and forth over money, and simultaneously having to deal with a marriage he’d already screwed over – Rintaro just wanted to disappear.

He wanted to return to Greenville.

It was peaceful there. People minded their own business, everyone had their own purpose and reason for waking up each day and there, he could just be himself. Not the Crown Prince, not a young man who had to hurt you for the sake of the throne. He could just… be free.

“Your Highness,” a servant bowed in front of him, keeping a respectful distance but enough to let him know he needed his attention.

“Good evening,” he greeted back, “Have you seen my wife?”

“Her Highness was with Princess Maiko this morning. Last I heard, she has not left the Palace, at all.”

“I see,” Rintaro was already moving towards Honor Hall before his feet could register it. It was a good twenty minute walk, and the chances of running into Iris weren’t miniscule, but it would be worth it. He could use some fresh air, anyway. And he figured with Maiko around, you would be less opposed to spending the evening with him – until he realized Maiko must have known everything, too. How he manipulated you, and left you in the middle of nowhere.

On second thought, having two Princesses who clearly did not welcome him would not make for a great night.

“My Prince!”

Rintaro stopped on his tracks. He had a split second to school his expression to surprise – the good kind – when he came face to face with the last woman he wanted to see.

“Mother,” he greeted, taking her gloved hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles whilst she fanned herself. “I wasn’t informed you would be visiting.”

She waved her fan around. “Oh, I had to nearly knock down the guards when they wouldn’t let me in, but I had to see my daughter. I heard from the news that you came home too early. Well, what is wrong? Is she sick? Does she not like the countryside? Or perhaps there was an emergency you had to attend to?” fanning herself harder, Rintaro’s hand wound at the small of her back to guide the older woman into a nearby seat. “She hasn’t answered any of my calls, and I am worried, my son.”

“Your concern for her will put her at ease, I’m certain,” he reassured, swallowing the uncomfortable lump growing in his throat. “This is just… a difficult time for us, Mother. I fear Her Highness is having doubts about our marriage once she saw how overwhelming the Crown could be. She simply wished to return home because she felt there were things to be done here.”

Your mother sighed and shook her head. “My poor daughter. She always felt the need to prove her worth by working herself to death,” spinning to face him, she pointed her fan in his direction – which would be considered a threat to the Crown Prince, but she was his mother–in–law. Her presence itself was a threat to his life. “Promise me you won’t let her exhaust herself, son. Promise me you’ll take care of her.”

“She is in good hands, Mother, I promise you this.”

Pleased with him, your mother beamed. “I was also… Well, I may be crossing the line, but now that you tell me my poor daughter is anxious about her royal duties, I was planning to hold a ball in her honor. A welcoming ball for the new Princess, of sorts. It should help her integrate into your world better, but still with the comfort of our support.”

“A ball sounds lovely. We can hold it anytime as we are still in our honeymoon period and she will be free for quite some time.”

“That is perfect! I will make the arrangements, then.”

Wearing his best Prince Charming smile, even if he was anything but, Rintaro found himself mindlessly agreeing to everything your mother wanted. He would have to squeeze all these events in his already hectic schedule, but he was not complaining. She was right. You deserved to relax and enjoy yourself. He should know best that having royal titles did not promise a life of gallivanting and endless tea parties. Once your mother had exhausted herself from all the planning, Rintaro escorted her out to the palace entrance, stopping only when your figure appeared from the corner.

Finally, you were looking at him.

But with a glare.

Well, he supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“You are a far better actor than I give you credit for – lying to my mother like that.”

“I did not mean to.”

You rolled your eyes, and Rintaro bit his lip. Cute, he thought, but he would never say it out loud. He would simply enjoy the fact you did not push him away, or walk away as if you were scalded when he started walking next to you. For a moment, everything almost seemed normal. Minus the extreme glaring, of course.

“Surely. It’s not like telling her you manipulated me for the past two years was on your to-do list.”

“Do not use that tone on me.”

“I will speak with you however I wish. You do not get to tell me what to do.”

“You are right; I cannot tell you what to do, so do as you please, then,” he surrendered, and you must be surprised by how he easily gave in from the way you froze. Glaring harder, Rintaro bit his cheek, tilting his head to the side as he gazed upon your pretty face. And oh, how badly he wanted to smooth that frown you’re wearing. “I missed you. I have not seen you all day long.”

“Must have been a lovely day for you, then.”

It was hell, actually, was what he wanted to say, but even that did not seem enough to articulate what he truly felt. I missed you, and I’m sorry I hurt you. Please sleep on the same bed with me again. I want to hold you all night long, and your scent calms me. But instead, all that comes out of his mouth was, “It was not lovely at all.”

“Hmm. I’m not Iris.”

“No, you aren’t.”

He agreed wholeheartedly – you were not his lover. Iris would not argue with him like this; in fact, they never argued at all. Whenever they had misunderstandings, they resolved it by taking out their frustrations on the bedroom, and the next day, all would be forgiven and forgotten. It was easier with Iris, in some ways, because with you he actually had to use his words, and he had to say the right ones. Both of which he wasn’t good at, but would try his very best anyway.

“I heard you spent the day with Maiko. How was it? Did you two have fun?”

“As fun as two women suffering at the hands of men who despise them could have.”

Rintaro took a larger step to stand in front of you, his eyes narrowed into slits. “I do not despise you.”

“Really? You made me feel otherwise.”

Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair again, feeling much more exhausted than he did after the meetings ended. “You do not have to make this so difficult, you know. I am trying to fix this.”

The laugh you let out is sardonic, teetering on the edges of borderline angry. But he would take it – because arguments with you were better than having you ignore him, and he would take a thousand more arguments if it meant you talked. He would consume your wrath over your coldness every other day. Even when you cross your arms and look at him like he was the most vile creature to ever walk the Earth – because your eyes are on him, and in that moment, in the middle of another of a hundred hallways in his Palace, there was no one else but you and him. A husband and his wife. A Prince and his Princess.

“Oh, are you now? Because last time I checked, you were still in love with someone else, and I’m still nothing but a pawn in your silly game.”

“I may be in love with someone else, but it was you who I couldn’t get off my mind.”

“Is that supposed to make my heart flutter?”

You reel back as if burnt, and Rintarou couldn’t fathom why your expression hurt him so much. As if his declaration, his vulnerability, of being putty in your hands repulsed you instead of excited you. However, he refused to show he hung desperately to your every word, refused to admit that you held all the power in your hands, not him. So, he plays it off, and flirtingly lifts a brow just to get you even more riled up.

“I was hoping it would.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, Rintaro, you won’t win.”

His eyes darkened. Suddenly, all self-restraint he previously had had been thrown out the window. The urge to press his lips to you – yes, those same lips scowling at him – becomes all too consuming. He fools himself into taking the heat in your eyes as desire instead of anger. And he takes one step forward, two, then three, until your back hits the wall and his large frame prevents you from escaping. He liked you best here, he realized, under his mercy and staring up at him with your soft lips, pliant and open to release a gasp when he leans in. Closer, closer, only for his lips to meet the skin of your cheek.

Rintaro stifled a disappointed groan.

Masking it with a chuckle, he trailed his lips down your cheek and to your jawline, all the way until he’s inhaling your intoxicating scent – he wants your damned perfume to stick to his skin for days to come so everyone in the Palace knows he is yours. And like a flower, you bloom only to him. Craning your neck and pushing your chest upwards to his despite your resistance, breathing hard and heavy to let him know he wasn’t the only one affected by this.

And by the Gods, he wanted nothing more than to take you in this wall right here and then.

Brushing his lips just above your pulse point, Rintaro smiled. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, and he was certain his was, too, when you began to crumple his shirt in your hands. “I never knew my name could sound so important without the titles attached to it.”

“Wh–what?” your query came out breathily. Not that he could blame you, for his words have also begun to sound more like a whisper.

“Rintaro,” he echoed, nosing your neck to greedily take in more of your scent. If not on his skin, then he will settle for the evidence of you all over his clothes – and damned the servants who dared wash his dress shirt. “Not Prince, not Your Highness. Just Rintaro. It makes me feel like… it is just you and I, husband and wife, as simple as that,” you draw in another gasp just as his fingers start ghosting over your waist, fighting the urge to pin you in place, or to just hold you delicately because he knew he’d broken you enough. Rintaro felt weak, his head dropping in the column of your shoulder. “I truly did miss you. And I do not like how I spent many nights, in our bed, alone.”

“You do not deserve to share a bed with me.”

“I know,” he lamented, and that firm resolve of keeping him at a distance was enough to wake him up. Pushing himself off of you, Rintaro took a solid minute to admire you like this – lips parted, expectant for a kiss, and skin flushed with a thin layer of sweat, with eyes so bewildered he could see himself clearly in the reflection – that he was just a man now, and not really the husband you wanted him to be. Once he had his fill, Rintaro smoothed down the wrinkles you fisted in his shirt and took a step back. “But you do not deserve to sleep in just a couch. Take the bed tonight. I will sleep outside.”

“But that’s–”

“I’m the one who fucked up,” he smirked, sarcasm dripping from his face, “So I should be the one sleeping uncomfortably. I know I cannot tell you what to do, and neither do I plan on ordering you around, but this is the one thing you cannot argue with me on. You will take the bed. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Back to titles. Back to formality. Back to reality.

“Good girl,” he murmured absentmindedly, nodding in the direction of your bedroom. “Let us head back to our quarters. I’m buying you a new dress for the ball first thing in the morning.”

To say Rintaro had changed would be an understatement.

He was a completely different person than your husband in the honeymoon. It was as if… last night’s intimate encounter had brought him back to the Rintaro you fell in love with, but this time it felt different. He felt more intense. Maybe it was the fact that his secrets were now laid out in the open, which could mean his attentive actions toward you no longer held the purpose of winning you over. Maybe now he truly just wanted to spend time with you because he could.

Cancelling his plans for the day, he’d told the servants you were going out shopping, and oh, what a cunning, devilish Prince he is. He knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of him out in public. With so many eyes watching, you spent nearly every second of the day with your arms looped around his, laughing and smiling at every word he said, and not daring to keep your eyes off him lest someone took a photographed and headlined it ‘Newly Married Royal Couple Having Their First Lovers’ Spat In Public.’ No. No, that would be catastrophic. The Queen would be furious.

Here, in public, you were forced to act sweet and touchy with him, to which the stupid Crown Prince basked in as he led you from boutique to boutique. He complimented you on everything, even when you wore a hideous bright orange gown that made even the designer flinch. But in Rintaro’s eyes, you were simply mesmerizing. He even got a suit that matched all of your dresses, claiming that everyone should know he was married to you. Everyone already knew that – the whole world knew – but you didn’t want to burst his bubble.

Aside from having a day off, your husband genuinely did seem to be doing things other than paperwork.

You stopped being kind once you entered the car, however, when the windows had rolled up and you had both stopped waving to the people. Here, it was just the driver and the both of you, and the driver knew better than to comment on whatever happened, anyway. Sighing, you scooted to the other end of the seat, prying yourself off of Rintaro’s tight grip around your waist.

“Drop the act.”

“What act?”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, taking off your gloves and folding them neatly in your lap. “We are in the privacy of our car. You needn’t pretend any longer.”

“Who said I was pretending?”

You looked at him dead in the eye. “You are not fooling anyone. This was all a PR act – you did not actually mean whatever it is you said to me out there, but worry not. I’ll get out of your hair and divorce you – surely that will make everything easier.”

The way Rintaro’s eyes nearly popped out of his head would be comical if he didn’t look so scared. In a flash, your husband crossed the distance and sat next to you, his hurried movements causing his bangs to fall into his eyes. His large hands began to engulf yours, and you suck in a breath – without the gloves, it felt more intimate. “What divorce?” he chuckled nervously, brushing his lips over your bare knuckles. It was the faintest of touches, only done to appease you, but it still didn’t stop the bolt of heat coursing through your thighs. Gods, it was just so hard trying to stay mad at him.

“You know that’s impossible. Royal marriages are forever. Look, if you truly wish to divorce me, fine. But you know you will have to help me become King first. Once I am crowned, I can write a new law that says royal couples can be separated.”

“You are despicable.”

“I am,” he whined. Whined! Seriously, who was this man? “But I promise you, if you help me, I will let you go. Look, I’ll even find a high–ranking nobleman for you. The best of the best. You wouldn’t have to be lonely anymore. Just… don’t ever mention divorce to me right now. I won’t let you.”

Scoffing, you pull your hands back from his heavenly lips. “You seriously think after everything, loneliness is somehow my biggest issue?” Rintaro opened his mouth to retort, but you shook your head, making yourself small between him and the window seat. You hated it, how helpless you felt, from wanting his touch to being burnt by it. You hated it even more how you couldn’t look him in the eye as you mumbled, “Have you ever thought that maybe I just want to forget you?”

“I do not want you to,” he breathed out, and your eyes snapped shut when you felt his fingers brush over your cheeks. “But I am not so selfish to deprive you of a good thing. You will find someone who can love you better than I could.”

Your heart fell.

“Well, that would be easy. You never loved me to begin with.”

The Crown Prince never spoke again. You both mulled over your silences as you arrived back at the Palace, heading into the bathroom to do your nightly routines. Rintaro was to your left, taking out his razor blade and shaving foam while you stood to his right, lathering on your cleanser and toner. Thankfully, the silence did not feel as heavy as it did on the ride back home, but it was still far from being comfortable. It was only after you’d moisturized and turned to leave the room that Rintaro caught your wrist, glancing down at you with a pleading expression.

“Please. Can we stop fighting? I thought today was fun. Let us not end it hating each other.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, if I ruined your precious day,” you snapped, leaning back to examine how he missed a spot below his jaw. A slight stubble was visible, but you had to stop your hand from reaching out to him. You sighed. “All this space in the Palace and they couldn’t give us separate bathrooms?”

“Traditionally, royal married couples slept in separate rooms. Everything was separate, too, including bathrooms,” he gestured around you, “Perhaps you would’ve liked the old ways.”

Screw it. The small talk is the most awkward thing you have ever experienced.

“…You missed a spot,” you finally mumbled, taking his razor from him and gesturing for him to crouch down so you can reach. “Do you want me to finish it?”

Rintaro, despite his surprise, nodded and obeyed. It must have been uncomfortable for him to slouch, but he did so without complaints. He let you shave him as you saw fit, turning his head side to side, lathering on more foam, and you watched as his shoulders visibly deflated. Eyes fluttering close, Rintaro sighed, the tips of his fingers gingerly tracing circles as they laid beside your hips.

“You will take the bed as discussed,” he reminded, “You will not argue with me on this.”

“Okay,” you answered, because you, too, had no energy for more arguments. Once you were done with him, you wiped off the rest of the foam with a warm, wet towel. You both left the bathroom and went your separate ways – you to your king–sized bed, and him just outside the bedroom and into the lounge room, where you spent the past few nights sleeping. You realized he must not be sleeping well from it because of his large frame, yet Rintaro did not seem to mind.

Just as he was about to close the door, he lingered for a few beats.

“Thank you for going along the happily married couple act today,” he said, lifting his gaze from the carpeted floors to gaze into your eyes. “And for the record, I meant it when I said you looked beautiful.”

Then he turned, and swiftly closed the door, leaving you to be with your thoughts – all filled of him.

It didn’t help that the sheets and pillows still lingered with his scent.

You had your upcoming ball to thank for distracting you from your confusing feelings for your husband. That in itself was such a ridiculous statement, but one that ringed true. After Rintaro’s surprising gentleness, and the revelation from Maiko that he hadn’t spoken at all with Iris, you were now in a dangerous zone called Getting Your Hopes Up. Truly, you should know better. You had known Rintaro for years to know he could be effortlessly charming. He could have you wrapped tight around his finger, smiling like a lovesick fool, only for him to break your heart once more.

If not for that cold, hard truth, you would have invited him to bed with you that night. It seemed too tempting. It felt like the right thing to do. But you didn’t, and you were glad you held back on your desire, because you weren’t sure you could handle another heartbreak.

Especially because these past few days made you realize one thing – that you were still in love with him. The next morning, you found yourself wishing you had woken up next to him, and that was enough to make you avoid your husband all over again. And much to your disappointment, Rintaro stopped trying to chase after you, too, after countless rejections on your part. He had kept his distance, and only spoke with you momentarily when you arrived at your mother’s ball and had to exchange niceties with everyone.

After that, your husband excused himself and spoke with his brothers, but not after your parents couldn’t stop cooing at how adorable you and the Crown Prince were. He handled it with grace; kissing your cheek and thanking them for raising such a wonderful daughter. But the moment your parents became occupied with welcoming other guests, you were now left to entertain the other women in the ball.

Until the music began playing.

Until your song reverberated all across the room.

“This is the song you and the Crown Prince danced to the night you met,” your mother whispered beside you, giggling in your ear. “I requested it specifically for this night. Enjoy the dance with your husband. He’s already waiting.”

True to her word, you could feel Rintaro’s heated gaze on you from across the room. He’d stopped speaking with his brothers – the twins smirking beside him, Akaashi smiling at you softly, Tobio waving enthusiastically while nursing a glass of wine, and Kita firmly hovering from the walls with a concerned frown. Not that you paid attention to them. Your gaze was held by your husband and him only, bewitched as he started walking forward. The crowed parted for him like a true Prince until nothing stood in his way. Everyone smiled, giggling behind their gloves at the apparent ‘romance in the air.’ Beside you, your mother pushed you encouragingly, and you could feel everyone’s eyes on you, waiting to see if you would take the Crown Prince’s outstretched hands.

“My love,” he whispered above your gloved hands, and your heart skipped a beat. He didn’t call you Princess, or Your Highness. You knew it was for the sake of keeping appearances, but by the Gods, you loved him. You were so hopelessly in love with your husband that you placed your heart in his hands once more, silently pleading with him not to break it as he led you in the middle of the dance floor. “May I have this dance?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, your hand resting on his shoulder as naturally as his arms came to your waist. The exact same movements from the night you first met, with the same song, but with your love for him stronger tonight than it did when you first laid your eyes on him.

This time, you danced as man and wife, and you recalled his words from the other day.

How there were moments it seemed so simple – where there were no titles, just you and him, having this dance like it was the most natural, inexplicable thing in this world.

The chord struck. The crowd parted. He took the first step in the dance, and you took a step back. Not once did you tear your gaze away from him, happily drowning in the depths of his hazel eyes you could look at forever. And isn’t that what you’d always wanted? To spend a lifetime with him, to grow old together. It would have been so easy if it weren’t for –

“Don’t think about anything else,” your husband shook his head lightly, “Just enjoy this moment. Tonight, there is only you and I.”

“Okay,” you found yourself nodding, and his grip on your waist tightened for a second. “Just you and I.”

Rintaro’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles. “Just you and I.”

You and him in those moments – you felt immortal. Like nothing could stand in your way. Or perhaps you could die tonight, and you would die happy. Because you were in your husband’s arms, and he was looking at you and only you, murmuring how you were becoming more and more beautiful with each passing day. You were melting in his arms, like goo. Like pudding. And he was strong enough to catch you, to brush his nose against yours at each dip, or letting his lips linger on your forehead each time you came back to him with each spin.

But happy moments never lasted long enough, and soon the rotations were beginning. More couples have joined the dance floor. Through one spin, you caught sight of Tooru and Maiko. Neither of them looked happy, but Tooru visibly brightened when he caught your eye, and shamelessly winked. On the other side of the room danced Iris and Kiyoomi, with the latter looking so nauseous you worried dinner would be spilled on your mother’s floor. And then too soon, Rintaro’s hands were leaving yours as he moved to the nearest dance partner, and you were caught by a pair of strong, muscled arms.

“My turn,” Tooru teased, a grin now on his handsome face as he nudged his head in Rintaro’s direction. He was now dancing with your mother, and you could tell, even from this distance, the smile he wore was genuine. “Should I beat him up?”

You chuckled, throwing your head back. Despite his jokes and jabs, Prince Tooru was a surprisingly great dancer – less stiff than Rintaro, and more confident in his receiving when you spun and dipped. But dancing with him did not feel the same. There was no passion, no yearning, no longing – just the lighthearted air of good humor and his calming nature.

“I don’t think beating the Crown Prince up would be a very wise decision.”

“Indeed, but I was never the Prince known for making wise decisions. That would be more Shinsuke’s forte,” he snorted, and the song reached a part for another rotation. However, Tooru refused to let you go and intentionally spun you away from what was supposed to be your next dance partner. Out of shock, you slapped his chest, and his broad chest rumbled with laughter.

“Your Highness! That was unbelievably rude!”

“As I have said,” you both laughed when he spun you again, “I am not the Prince known to be socially adept.”

You bent over in giggles, your head resting on his chest as you danced more throughout the night. Your feet were getting tired, but your mother was right – this was a night to enjoy. You danced to your heart’s content, exchanging jokes with the handsome Fifth Prince until you craned your neck to the side, only to be stopped by Prince Tooru’s large hand. This time, he no longer smiled as he gazed upon the dancing partners behind you, and your skin turned cold.

You had a feeling you knew exactly why.

“Don’t look. You won’t like what you’ll see.”

Nodding, you pursed your lips and forced a smile at him. “It’s okay, Princess,” he comforted, “Just look at me. You need not concern yourself with others.”

So you danced, and danced, until you could hear your father pleading with the Fifth Prince to give his daughter back because he didn’t get a chance to have a dance with you yet. Reluctantly, Tooru handed you over to your father, but not without a faux frown.

“That was a lovely dance, Your Highness. I wish we could’ve danced more.”

“I think we danced enough.”

Tooru’s smile was guarded; secretive. “I’m afraid it was not enough.”

You danced with your father next. And it was lovely, seeing him up close with all his smile lines and wrinkles. You missed him so, dearly, and he felt the same way. It hurt having to lie to him when he asked how you were settling in the Palace, but you didn’t want to concern him with your personal matters, and for some reason, it didn’t sit well with you if your father disliked Rintaro. So you swallowed your discomfort down and told him everything was great – silently wishing he wouldn’t pry further. He didn’t. And when the song slowed, your father kissed you on the cheek before letting you meet with your next dancing partner.

Stood in front of you was a great wall of what could only be described as majestic. Dressed in white with gold ornaments, Prince Kiyoomi’s curls framed his handsome face beautifully. You had been so accustomed seeing him in more comfortable clothing, and in the privacy of his own home, that seeing him out here in society, it reminded you that he, too, was a Prince.

The Second Prince – the would have been next King should Ushijima and Rintaro falter.

“My Prince.”

“Princess,” he bowed, taking your hand in his as you made your way back to the dance floor. The music played again, this time louder, and the Prince leaned down until his lips were brushing against the shell of your ear. You repressed a gasp, unable to help yourself from digging your nails into his palm when you were greeted by how good he smelled – like mint, new leather, and pine. It also dawned on you how tall and firm the Prince was – perhaps taller and more muscular than Rintaro.

“Y–Yes, Your Highness?”

“Remind me to thank your mother for extending her invites to the forgotten Prince. Imagine my shock when I saw her invitation letter this morning.”

You chuckled nervously, thankful that he had now slightly tilted his head back. “I hardly doubt you are a forgotten prince.”

He snorted, effortlessly spinning you with one hand. “It’s not like I do my duties to begin with. I wouldn’t be surprised if I truly was forgotten,” distracted by his scent, you unknowingly stepped on the hem of your dress and slipped backwards. A scream nearly tore out your throat when the Prince’s large hands cupped the small of your back, your chest pressed to his and his curls brushing against your cheeks as he held you close. “Careful.”

“Th–thank you.”

You were a mess after that. You were never the best dancer, but something about being in the older Prince’s presence made you extra nervous. If he noticed, he didn’t comment on it. He simply danced with grace, and hid his grimace well each time you stepped on his toes. He had also convinced you to stop apologizing every time you did, and by the time the dance was over, you were more than ready to disappear.

“Thank you for the dance, my Prince,” you bowed, words hurried, “I shall see you–”

“Kiyoomi!” a woman appeared out of nowhere, her thick, dark curls pinned up beautifully with some loose strands swaying in time with her hips. She had the same moles as Kiyoomi, and you watched, entranced, as the older woman wrapped her arm casually around the prince. The two shared a silent conversation with their eyes before Kiyoomi glanced at you, and the woman followed his line of sight. “Oh! Your Highness. Greetings. I don’t believe I have introduced myself before – I’m Kanami; Kiyoomi’s mother.”

You smiled at her, politely taking her hand as she extracted herself from her son’s arms and taken to draping herself all over you. Discomfort must be written all over your face, because the Second Prince sent an apologetic smile your way.

“It is an honor to meet you, Miss Kanami. Are you enjoying the night so far? The travel all the way from Itachiyama must have been exhausting.”

“Oh, it was, but it’s all worth it now that we’ve met again!” she squealed, and you paled.

“We have met before?”

Just as she nodded and went about to retelling this so–called meeting, Iris popped up behind Kiyoomi, her smile stiff as she regarded Kanami. Instantly, your mood soured. She hadn’t spoken to you at all tonight, which you were thankful, but something about the thought of her dancing with your husband, and probably being suggestive while at it had your blood boiling.

“Mother! Such a shock seeing you here. I wasn’t aware you were invited.”

Kanami barely glanced her way, her dark, curious eyes still on your face.

“Hello, Iris, and it’s Miss Sakusa, dear,” she corrected, her enthusiastic smile momentarily fading into a scowl before it returned. “Say, Your Highness, since you’re still on your honeymoon period – and I’ve heard your dear husband is too busy these days – would you want to come visit Itachiyama with me? I would be honored to be your host. It will also be a great opportunity to learn more about your Princess duties and politics!” leaning closer, she whispered behind her gloves, although her words were loud enough to be heard by Prince Tooru and Iris. “Although if I will be honest, politics does not interest me in the least bit.”

Your mouth fell open and closed, unsure of what to say, until you settled on chuckling and patting her hand wrapped around your arm. “I… Thank you for invitation, Kanami. I am most tempted to see your beautiful country, but Princess Iris should be the one visiting her territory, should she not?”

Kanami scrunched her nose.“The Princess never grew up in Itachiyama. She would be just as clueless as you. Besides, I have always wanted to invite you over ever since you had Kiyoomi as your last dance on your eighteenth birthday!”

“He… was?”

“He was! Don’t you remember, dear?” she turned to Kiyoomi, who looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him already. But judging by his reaction, it seemed true – Kiyoomi was your last dance on your debut ball. “Well, in that case, I was always fond of you. I may be crossing the line here, but it was always a famous royal saying that whoever was your last dance on your debutante ball was your destined lover.”

[warlocksoup]

SLEAZE ✶⋆.˚ MIYA OSAMU

she’s twenty-five years old and twenty years past her peak, and the only place she can find any comfort is that little onigiri shop across the street from her apartment.

MAIN MASTERLIST

PAIRING: osamu x fem reader

TAGS/WARNINGS: ex-child star reader, trauma, unhealthy coping mechanisms, yearning, strangers to lovers, mental health issues, lots of food mentions, warnings may change

MDNI: will contain adult content

TAGLIST: open, complete this form to be added

PREVIEW: taste

CHAPTER ONE: coming soon

© warlocksoup ; do not copy or repost

[lees-chaotic-brain]

if the world was ending you'd come over right?

summary: you're not at home when the earthquake happens, but your ex doesn't know that and sees that your apartment building has collapsed on the news...loosely based off this song

cw: ex! osamu, mentions of blood, earthquake, angst, a little bit of comfort, not as fluffy as i promised sorry

wc: 923

note: this was a sponsored fic for @ficsforgaza's fundraiser!! check out how to send in a request here, or sponsor a wip here! i initially had a different idea for the fic, but it ended up like this. however i may write the other version i originally planned at some point in the future!!!

haikyuu masterlist | blog navigation

You were returning to your apartment from getting your morning coffee when the earthquake hit. One second you were walking along, the next the ground was bouncing and you were thrown to the ground. You slammed your head hard against the pavement, and instinctually curled up into a ball, wrapping your arms around your head to protect it from further harm. 

After what felt like an eternity, it stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving you laying dazedly on the cracked pavement. You knew something was wrong with your head, that you were likely concussed and couldn’t fall asleep, but your body was battered and aching and you couldn’t bring yourself to stand.

Time was moving weirdly, so you didn’t know how long you laid there, but by the time you managed to stagger to your feet the blood dripping from your head had crusted in your hair and on your face. It took you a bit to find your footing, but once you were upright you began walking unsteadily towards your apartment, distantly realizing that you should go check on it.

“Maam! Hey! Are you okay? Do you need help?” A middle aged man you vaguely recognized as owning the grocery store you frequented approached you, concern evident on his face. “You don’t look too good. Where are you trying to go? I can help.”

It takes you a few tries to speak, your mouth sticky and dry from inhaling dust and a lack of use. “My apartment. It’s right around the corner. The one across the street from the park.” As you speak, the pounding in your head only increases and a wave of nausea washes over you, causing you to stagger.

Pity crosses over the man’s face as he reaches out to steady you. “Ah, well, I saw on the news that the buildings in that complex collapsed, so I don’t know if there will be much to see. It might be best if we try to get you some medical attention for your head…”

“I’m fine.” You attempt to keep walking, but he has to catch you as your legs give out. “Whoa. Take it easy. It looks like you hit your head pretty hard.”

“I need to go home.” You know it’s not logical, but you want to see the extent of the damage and try to salvage what you can despite knowing it was very unlikely anything remained.

The shop owner sighed, slinging your arm over his shoulder to support you better as he helped you limp along. “Fine. You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you. We’ll go to your building, but we’re going to find someone to look at your head after that.”

You don’t have the energy to reply, focusing on putting one foot ahead of the other, not the throbbing in your skull. After what felt like hours, but was probably only around five minutes in reality, you got back to your building, and were immediately greeted by chaos.

EMT’s raced stretchers with people covered in dust and blood on them to waiting ambulances, new helicopters whirred overhead, neighbors and other onlookers gathered to the side in shock, a man fighting tooth and nail to get into the building screaming at the men holding him back-wait.

“Hey, that’s your boyfriend, right?” The shop owner pointed at the man thrashing against his captors. “I’ve seen you two together in the store before. We should probably get you over to him, he looks worried sick.”

And sure enough, upon closer inspection it’s Osamu who’s raging against Kita and Atsumu as they each hold one of his arms to stop him from charging into the unstable building. 

“Uh, well he’s my ex. I don’t really know why he’s here. We broke up months ago.” You’re too tired to try and puzzle out what was going on, overwhelmed by everything that had happened so far. Then you heard your name.

“LET ME GO! SHE’S STILL IN THERE! GET OFF ME YOU MOTHERFU-”

“She’s over here! YN is over here!”

Somehow Osamu manages to hear the shopkeeper over all the noise, and instantly stops raging against Atsumu and Kita, whipping his head so fast in your direction you’re surprised he didn't break his neck. Seeing you, his brother and friend release him, knowing that there’s no danger of him charging in now that he knows where you are. 

He makes his way across the courtyard and is in front of you, frantically checking you for injuries in three seconds flat as the shopkeeper pats you on the arm and walks off.

“Yer here. Oh my god. The news- I thought, I thought ya were still in there. Ya can’t do that to me.” His eyes zero in on the blood caking your head. “Yer head! Yer bleeding. C’mon we need to get you to the hospital-”

He begins dragging you off towards an ambulance but you’re still unstable and your legs give out. Crumpling to the pavement you look up at him, your mind still foggy.

“Samu…? Why are you here? We broke up…” You can hear your words beginning to slur, and the last thing you see before your eyes close is his stricken face, his eyes fearful as he frantically pats your face and yells at you to stay awake.

Slipping into the soothing darkness, you think about how much you’ve missed him the past few months, and can’t help but be grateful he’s here.

Even if took an earthquake, he came. That was all that mattered.

taglist: @arlerts-angel @ponderingmoonlight @hotvinimon

please lmk if you want to be added to/removed from any of my taglists!!!

[evil-genius-wannabe]

I hate it when reader insert fanfiction makes me out to be a weak bitch.

Like personally if someone called me a whore in class, I wouldn't leave crying, I would punch them in the face and break their nose.

[eggyrocks]

rot: h. iwaizumi

chapter one -> a favor

word count: 6.1k

(masterlist ; written content ; taglist)

Her apartment is a piece of shit.

Rot has set in its bones, a permanent stench of musk and mold seeped into its walls. The bathroom is perpetually wet, and pieces of the ceiling frequently chip off and fall into her coffee. And it doesn’t help that there’s half smoked cigarette buds littered everywhere or greased soaked take out containers spilling out of the trash she’s too lazy to take out. But she doesn’t have it in her to blame herself. It was shit when she got here-there was hardly any motivation for her to take care of it.

Paint chips from the window as she struggles to jerk it open, muttering curses with a lit cigarette between her lips. The landlady has given her shit before about the smell of smoke that drifts out into the halls, and now she has to muscle open the painted-shut window in order to avoid her ire. She figures the old hag just wants something to complain about. There’s years of ash yellowing the walls; if she went at it long enough with some disinfectant spray and a roll of paper towels, she’d eventually reach the original, creamy white color of the walls.

She’s not the first smoker to rent the one-bedroom. She certainly won’t be the last.

Her teeth grind together, and her hands are starting to cramp, struggling against the wood. The apartment might be a piece of shit, but it’s the only piece of shit she’s got, and she’s not about to ruin it by pissing off some temperamental old lady. If she wants the smell of smoke gone, the smell of smoke is going to be gone (and what, is she supposed to climb down three flights of stairs to smoke on the steps outside every time she wants to light up? Please).

With one final grunt, she’s able to fling the window open, nearly losing a finger as she does so. There’s no screen, and the windowsill is decorated with years’ worth of grime, dust, and bug corpses. Distaste furls on her lip, and she holds the cigarette out the window, arm suspended in the air.

The night is cool and refreshing as it floats into her humid room. It’s always nicer outside than it is in her piece of shit apartment, and if she weren’t so convinced someone in this neighborhood wouldn’t hesitate to climb through any open window they could find (third floor or not), she’d leave it open all the time.

She flicks the end of her cigarette, and ash floats from the tip down to the sidewalk below. This isn’t really what she imagined when she imagined leaving. Her nose twitches, and she brings the cigarette to her lips. Chain-smoking and picking mold off bread and trying to lure in street cats to kill off rats that make their way up from the basement.

Leaving should look different. It shouldn’t have a sickly green tint to it. It shouldn’t be this distorted.

Her liberated life had played out so nicely in her head. Leaving would be the last hard part. She had figured, naively, that once the rot was cut from her, it would be the end to it. There’d be no more problems. It would be easy to be on her own. It would be easy to take care of herself. It would be easy to live in a shit apartment and work a shit job and make shit money and live off shit food and shit coffee and shit cigarettes. It was alone on the train platform, everything she owned stuffed into a single suitcase, that she realized she was dead fucking wrong.

She’s taken to keeping track of her problems with a numbered list.

If it weren’t for the dead bugs, she’d lean out the window, try to get the window to catch her hair. She’d get a good look at the street and the people who stumble through it. But instead, her arm goes sore, and she stares at the yellow wall in front of her.

Every day since she’s been here has been the same. An embarrassingly monotonous groundhog’s day.

In the morning, she wakes up to the sound of songbirds and the dogs in the apartment below her that continuously bark at them. At night, she falls asleep to the sound of whatever is going on in the apartment is going on above her: harsh footsteps, crashes, the occasional breaking of glass. In between, her mind numbs, and she mindlessly works the shift of whatever job she’s managed to get for the week.

She’s run through more jobs than she can count (she gets fired by anyone who makes the mistake of hiring her, problem #2). The grocery store fired her after she called a customer an ugly bitch at the end of a dispute over the price of plums (rage issues, problem #6). The restaurant she served tables at stopped putting her on the schedule after she called in sick one too many Fridays in a row (habitual liar, problem #11; chronic laziness, problem #5). The babysitting gigs she just stopped showing up to (she can’t stand to be around kids, and they can’t stand to be around her, at least she doesn’t have a problem with that).  

Her current employment is at a video store. That she seems to be able to manage. At least better than all the other ones she’s had. And it’s easy enough. Rent out DVDs. Collect late fees. Let your eyes gloss over whenever someone starts to run their mouth at you. Beg your managers for extra hours so you can pay all of your bills this month (problem #1, tied in pretty directly to problem #2).

A sigh escapes her. The cigarettes burns down closer to her fingers. A piece of shit apartment, and she can hardly afford it.

Her head turns, and she eyes the living room behind her, surveying the cramped kitchen and the rotting front door just beyond it. Her eyes are lingering on the dull, brass locks that keep her door in place. She thinks that she should install new ones, invest in something more secure. And it’s because she’s fixated on those locks that she sees the door rattle as someone slams their fist against it.

The noise makes her jump, and she hastily puts her cigarette out on the window, leaving it to blow away in the wind. She just a few long strides, her hand is around her doorknob, and she’s cursing the lack of a peephole and figures that’ll give her something to complain about with her landlady. She unlocks the deadbolt but lets the chain lock stay where it is. She opens the door just enough to get a look at whoever’s on the other side.

It's her neighbor. Upstairs. She blinks.

There are three things she knows about her neighbor:

His name. Iwaizumi Hajime. She’s heard his perpetual guests call it out enough to have it committed to memory, as well as the names: Mattsun, Makki, and Oikawa (see also: Shittykawa, Crappykawa, various-one-worded-insults-Kawa). But Iwaizumi is for certain the one she’s heard most, both though bouts of laughter and panic yelling.

He has a very careful routine. He’s religious about it. She can hear his footsteps as he follows the same 24-hours daily. In the morning he’s always gone by the time she wakes up. At night, he’s out smoking on the front step when she comes home. And in between-

Whatever it is that he’s doing in that upstairs apartment, it’s none of her business. She has her ideas. She has her clues that she chooses not to see.  But she won’t even let herself think about it, nevermind say it out loud. Whatever it is, she doesn’t need to know. It is not her business.

The first time she saw him, he was smoking a pack of blues on the front steps that led into their apartment building. His black jeans were worn in, and his sweatshirt had tears in the sleeves. A dark purple bruised blossomed along his jawline, fading into a lighter blue as it crept up his skin, and into a sickly yellow when it stopped under his cheekbone. The shape of it distorted when he dropped his jaw to let out smoke. She slowed in her approach at the sight of him and averted her gaze. It wasn’t any of her business.

The first time she saw him, he didn’t say anything. He just watched as she rummaged through her bag in search of her keys, careful not to brush against him as she passed him on the steps. She pretended she couldn’t feel him staring.

Her interactions with Iwaizumi Hajime, neighbor, have always been uneventful. At most, he will give her a slight nod of his chin in greeting as she approaches, but usually he just watches as she fiddles with her keys or pretends to be furiously texting, thumbs aggressively slamming against the keys (the text with no set recipient usually reading: aaaajjdewppgaa).

But even with their nothing interactions, she still would find herself thinking of him. As she popped another plastic meal into her microwave, she would think of his hands: long and veiny and cut up fingers holding up a cigarette, knuckles red and raw and forever scabbed over. When she deleted voicemails, she thought of his eyes, sharp and observant and a shade of green she finds perplexing. She thought of where he might be as she took out the trash. She started to look for the outline of him as she got closer to home.

She chalked it up to the loneliness.

The more she thought of him, the more she noticed him. His new bruises. The way his footsteps sounded late at night. How his voice rose in agitation when he spoke into the receiver of his phone, words muffled by the thin floorboards and drywall between her apartment and his. She noticed the unusual hours he kept and the way his most frequent guests always looked over their shoulders on their way out. She noticed heavy looking boxes covered in thick blankets going in and out of his place.

And she’s not stupid. It didn’t take very long for her to piece it together and resolve to stop noticing him (she can’t, as hard as she tries, and feels she knows entirely too much about him, problem #4).

She notices, now, the way his mouth is pressed into a fine line, a fresh laceration that spreads across the bridge of his nose. His expression is composed but there’s a panicked movement in his eyes, flashing over the details of her face that he can see through the crack of the door. She raises an eyebrow at him. “I need a favor,” he says, speaking directly to her for the first time, slightly out of breath and words strung together in a rush.

She blinks again.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

Her thought process is convoluted. She’s still working on justifying it to herself as she stands on the tips of her toes, trying not to shrink under his stare as her fingers clean his open wounds, the tips of them now stained with his blood.

It’s the path of least resistance, she tells herself. Really, there was no good reason or excuse to deny him, and she couldn’t exactly give him the bare faced truth of, “no, I think you’re a gunrunner and I don’t want to be involved in that shit, thanks.” And even if she did, or could come up with any other excuse to slam her door in her neighbor’s face, she figured it would be better to be on the good side of Iwaizumi Hajime, neighbor and potential arm’s dealer.

So she opened her door for him, and told herself that it’s better to be owed a favor than it is to owe one.

Hands steady, she applies a skin-toned bandage to the deep cut over his nose, an extra pad of cotton underneath it. She thinks it might need stiches, but that’s not an opinion she’s about to voice out loud to him.

She steps back and moves to wash the blood off of her hands in her kitchen sink, lathering her hands up with extra soap and running them under water so hot it turns her skin red. The water hits the sink a rusty color. Iwaizumi lingers, standing in the same spot, watching attentively as she does so. “Want a tea?” she asks as she turns off the faucet, wiping her wet hands off on the front of her jeans.

Without looking back at him, she moves about her cabinets, opening one to find her (frankly, pathetic) collection of mugs. She pulls out one with a chipped-up, knock-off version of Pikachu (a yellow rat-looking thing called “Ponkadu” with the iconic catchphrase, “ponka, ponka,”) and another with unsettling, discolored cats, knocking around a ball of orange yarn that she's fairly certain used to be red. “Ginger, if you have it,” he responds, still standing unsurely in the middle of her kitchen.

She glances at him over her shoulder. “You can sit down, if you want.”

Mechanically and awkwardly, he does so. The floorboards complain under his shifting weight and the chair squeaks as he pulls it out from under her table. It’s only quiet again when he settles back against the chair, going still. “You’re not gonna ask me what happened?” he asks.

It takes a few twists of the knob for her to finally get the flame on her stove going. She places her kettle on top of it, and rips into her tea bags. “Nope,” she answers. He gets ginger. She gets green. He gets the cats. She gets Ponkadu.

She can feel the way he watches her as she moves about the kitchen, putting a dot of honey in the bottom of her mug. He hasn’t asked her name, yet, which she figures is fair. She hasn’t asked his. And he’s probably seen it on the envelopes that get haphazardly tossed on their front steps or slipped under their front door (and he probably knows just as much about her as she does him, considering that more than half of the envelopes with her name on them have a big red stamp of “payment overdue,” or “bill enclosed”).

The kettle on the stove hisses, and she’s quick to snatch it up and pour the boiling water into each of their respective mugs. “How long do you need to stay?” she asks, not meaning to be rude, but she’s pretty sure it comes across that way anyways. She sets a timer on the oven for four minutes and turns to face him.

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Just for a bit, while things cool down,” is his uncomplicated answer.

She nods, arms wrapping around her middle as she leans against the counter, waiting for the teas to brew. There are questions she could ask that she’s sure he’s anticipating, but she doesn’t bother, she knows the answer. (Q: Why can’t you just hide out in your own apartment? A: I need the alibi. Q: Why’d you come to my apartment? A: Location convenience and believability. Q: Could I get in trouble for being involved with this? A: Probably).

Her fingers tap against her side, and her eyes are anywhere but on him. And despite reaching into the deepest, dustiest parts of her brain, she cannot think of one thing to say to him. There aren’t really any standard conversational topics to whip out when your neighbor/local arms trafficker (alleged) knocks on your door and asks if he can stay there for just a few hours, he promises, and also maybe a Band-Aid, if you have one.

It doesn’t help that she feels unbearably vulnerable with him, sitting at her dining room table (okay, it’s a kitchen table; a wobbly little thing pushed off to the side of her kitchen, but calling it a dining room table makes her feel better), looking at her, looking at her living space. She wasn’t anticipating guests, not that she ever gets any.

Everything she owns is splayed out on display for him to see. Dirty socks on the couch that she kicked off while watching late-night reruns. A stack of CD’s piling up on the ground, unopened because she doesn’t actually own a CD player. Dishes with remnants of ketchup and soy sauce and chocolate ice cream on the bottom of her sink. Loose cigarettes. Dozens of dead lighters. Mismatched furniture, curtsey of sidewalk disposals and secondhand stores. It’s a flagrant display of poverty and laziness.

Iwaizumi nods his chin towards the least offense thing he can find: the pile of CDs. “Those all yours?”

She thinks it’s a stupid question. Of course they’re hers. This is her apartment. Everything is hers. But the most complex form of conversation she could come up with to break the silence was, ‘tea?’ so she can’t really hold it against him. “Yeah,” she answers, and then adds without thinking, “got most of them from my brother,” (problem #9, she just says anything without ever thinking about it).

He stands from his creaky chair and creeps closer to the display. She holds her breath as he approaches. One wrong exhale and the entire pile will go toppling. Iwaizumi kneels down next to the pile, and his looking at the spine of them. His brow his furrowed as his eyes skim over the album names, and she’s anticipating some sort of string of critiques about her collection, or lack of. “Anything you like there?” she asks.

Iwaizumi straightens up and looks back over at her. “Gotta be honest, I don’t know any of these,” he admits, moving to sit back at his designated spot.

This makes her scoff. Her brother had started a worldwide sort of collection. Japanese synth-pop. Ethiopian jazz. Russian new wave. British post-punk. American folk. The rarer and more obscure, the better. If he could hear now that her neighbor and possible weapons dealer was stumped by his collection, he’d be overjoyed. Even if she has added a fair few of Hikaru Utada albums since she’s taken it over.

“What do you listen to then?” she asks, arms still crossed around her center, as if she’s shielding herself from him.

“Just whatever’s on the radio when I drive, I guess,” Iwaizumi answers with a shrug. “Not really a big music person, typically.”

For a moment, she tries to imagine whatever could be happening outside her door while he sits at her kitchen table, nursing a potentially broken nose and casually discussing music preferences. She gives him a nod. “That’s fair.”

Iwaizumi taps his thumb against the top of her table. She can’t read his expression. Every time she’s seen him it’s always been the same, like he’s permanently plagued by some minor annoyance that downturns his brow and pulls his lips into a slight frown. It’d be intimidating if she wasn’t so used to that kind of thing. “Wanna play something?” he asks.

Involuntarily, she scoffs. “Get me something to play ‘em with and I’ll play you whatever you want,” she snarks, and then stops. The smart smirk she had on her lips falls, and she shakes her head. “Sorry, that was rude. I don’t,” she starts, and then stops, “nothing to play ‘em on.”

The oven clock, gracious with its timing, beeps three times. She spins around on her heel, turning it off and using a spoon to fish out the tea bags. Her cheeks are red as she grabs his cat mug by the handle and walks it over to him. “Ginger,” she says, placing it down on the table in front of him. “”S hot,” she says, and then thinks, obviously.

She returns to the safe space of her kitchen counter, and grips her own hot mug around the middle, leaning against the counter and holding it up to her lips. She’s blowing away the steam that rises from it. Iwaizumi has a hand around the handle of the mug, and he’s staring down harshly at it. “So, listen, if someone asks you-“

“You were here with me all night,” she replies, and Iwaizumi looks up at her with a raised eyebrow. “You met up with me after my shift ended at around nine, and then you crashed on my couch by midnight, if I remember right. You were still sleeping in that same spot when I woke up.”

Iwaizumi’s quiet for a while. His thumbs are fiddling against the mug. She slowly sips at her tea, and when it’s too hot still, she blows at the top of it. There’s a rhythm to the way he taps his foot against her floor, deep in thought, probably trying to decide whether or not he could trust her.

He can trust her. Even if he doesn’t know it. He looks over at her with a slight scowl. “And you’ll tell that to anyone who asks?”

She can read between the lines. The anyone he’s so worried about is, undoubtedly, the cops that might come to her to verify whatever version of events he presents to them. “Yeah,” she confirms, “anyone.”

★⋆. ࿐࿔

In the following weeks, she gets three visits. Which is three more visits than she got in her first six months of living here.

When she was a kid, her dad bought her a knife, and stuffed it in the bottom of her schoolbag. “You don’t ever leave the house without a way to defend yourself, bug,” he had told her, and made sure it was properly hidden by books and crumbled homework assignments. And it’s the only thing her father has ever taught her that has the slightest bit of validity to it. She’s rummaging through her purse on her way out, double checking for her pink cannister of pepper-spray and that same little knife, when there’s another knock on the door.

Her head snaps up, and she sighs. At this rate, she’s already gonna be late for work and her sixteen-year-old manager is going to write her up if she’s more than twenty minutes late one more time and she cannot think of a single more embarrassing scenario. One hand grips onto her pepper spray, the other undoes the deadbolt. She barely opens the door, and on the other side is a grinning man.

This one she recognizes. It’s one of the men who’s always in and out of Iwaizumi’s place. Sometimes occupying the front step with him and sometimes laughing so loudly she can hear it clearly from her living room. She closes the door, undoes the chain lock, and then opens it once more. Her fingers are still tight around the pepper spray, which she thinks is fair, considering he’s got both hands behind his back. “Can I help you?” she asks, trying not to sound agitated.

He grins down at her, brightly. He’s the pretty one. “Hey, I’m Oikawa Tooru,” he greets, a natural sort of flirtation in the tone of his voice. She can’t tell if he does it on purpose or not, but she can tell form the glint in his eye that, either way, he doesn’t mean it. “Iwa’s friend.”

She nods. “Yeah, I recognize you. Listen, I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but I’m late for work, so-“

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses. “Just wanted to give you this gift, from Iwa, since you helped him out the other night.”

He reveals his hands to show off a box, neat and fresh from the store. It’s unwrapped, so she can see right away that it’s a silver little CD player. Portable. Battery-powered. Batteries included. She blinks. “He’s real grateful,” he says, pushes the box into her arms and giving her a wink. And he doesn’t say anything else as he turns on his heel, headed straight for the staircase that leads up to Iwaizumi’s apartment.

She places the box on the kitchen table where Iwaizumi sat, and makes sure her door is locked three times before she finally leaves for work.

The entirety of her ten-hour shift is spent thinking about it. She processes returns, and she thinks about it. She stocks shelves, and she thinks about it. She gets yelled at, and she thinks about it. What she’s going to play first. Where she’s going to keep it. How she’s going to thank him.

It makes her nervous to think about, that he got it for her. That she sarcastically suggested it, and then he did it. It makes nervous to think that he was thinking of her after he left her apartment. It makes her nervous to think that he went out of his way to buy something for her. Even if he left it up to an errand boy.

And listen, it’s not like she’s never had the money to spare to buy one of her own. At least, she could’ve bought a really cheap one, if she wanted. But in her liberated life, she’s always found that there were more pressing, demanding things that needed to be bought. Food. Phone bills. Credits at the laundromat. Cleaning supplies. Train fare. Cigarettes. Every time she passed by an electronics store and considered it, guilt gnawed at her stomach. She never needed it as bad as she needed everything else.

She clocks out a few minutes later than she was supposed to. Maybe it’s a bit much for a thank you. All she really did, at this point, was let him sit in her piece of shit apartment for a few hours and make him a mediocre cup of tea. She thinks about giving it back. She’s not going to, but she thinks about it.

Iwaizumi is where he always is when she gets off of work, smoking the same cigarettes. And instead of ignoring him via fake text or difficult-to-find keys, she stops in front of him, painfully aware of the intensity of the stare. “Thank you,” she says, and it’s all she manages to say.

Iwaizumi brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales. There’s no bruises on him today. She looks at him and doesn’t feel the need to turn her gaze. “It was a gift to thank you with,” he says through clouds of smoke, “you don’t have to thank me.”

She shrugs. “I wanted to.”

He lets out a small chuckle. “Okay, well, you’re welcome then, I guess.”

She gives him a small nod, and then takes careful steps passed up the stairs and passed Iwaizumi. It’s only once she’s twisted her key and is pushing the door open with her shoulder that he says, “Remember though, this means you’ve gotta play me whatever I want, now.”

Inexplicably, her face gets hot.

The second one comes thirteen days after that.

She’s got a layer of sweat on the back of her neck and her hair’s pushed out of her face with a bandana. The CD player sits on top of her kitchen table, playing an old scratched up copy of London Calling: her brother’s favorite. The mess got to her. She had started in the kitchen, scrubbing the burnt food off of her oven and trashing her food-poisoning level of expired leftovers.

Somehow, in the thick of it, she’s made more of a mess than she started out with. Full trash bags falling over in her living room, useless knick-knacks she’s managed to collect that would be better off in the trash, piles of clothes she plans on getting rid of (divided into two groups: ‘maybe I can sell these,’ and ‘these would be best to donate,’).

Her hand is down the drain of her bathroom sink, cleaning out the gunk and collection of her own strands of hair, protected only by a thin, yellow, rubber glove, when the knock on her door echoes around her apartment. “Fucking hell,” she grumbles, yanking her arm out of the sink, along with a clump of her hair, and carefully slides off the glove. She leaves it on the surface of the sink to be a later problem.

When she opens the door, she’s tired and out of breath, her body sore and aching. The door cracks open, halted by the chain lock, and she goes cold and rigid at the sight a police officer, standing outside of her door. “Can I help you with something?” she asks, tone not necessarily impolite, but it’s hard not to hear just how much she does not want to help. The door can stay locked.

There’s a fair few things she’s learned about cops (and lying to them) in her twenty-something years of living. Keep your distance. Don’t give them more than they need. They’re not your friend. They don’t wanna be your friend. She’s careful to keep her expression level and unbothered.

The cop starts up with his spiel. He’s sorry to bother her, ma’am, but he just has a couple questions, if you don’t mind. It shouldn’t take up too much of your time. You don’t wanna open up the door, do you?

She opts to answer any questions he might have through the thin space allowed by her chain lock. And the cop asks the questions she would expect him to ask. Where was she fifteen nights ago? Was she alone? Who was she was? For how long? Does she remember what time, exactly? Was he here the whole time? Are you sure? Are you positive?

Answers flow out of her easily, naturally. Fifteen nights ago, she was here. Like most nights. No, she wasn’t alone. Her neighbor was here. Iwaizumi. He hangs out here with her, sometimes. For how long? All night, why are you asking? What time? Exactly, she doesn’t really remember. She got off work around nine, and he fell asleep on her couch, maybe a bit after midnight? If she had say. Yeah, he was here the whole time. Yeah, she’s sure. Yeah, she’s positive. Why are you asking?

The officer thanks her, disappointed, and leaves with his head hung, disappointed. And she figures that, whatever Iwaizumi did, they were sure that he did it. And the only thing that stands between them and him, is her. She closes the door behind her and makes sure that it’s locked.

That kind of thing, it doesn’t really bother her. Her sense of morality is not dictated by written law, and she’s not going to be the one getting in the way of another person’s living, whether it’s honest or not. There are hard lines she wouldn’t cross, or help others get over. Of course. There are for everyone. But those lines aren’t in sight, so she’ll keep her mouth shut.

A shudder goes down her spine, and once the door is closed, nerves prickle at her skin. She hates talking to cops. Every time’s worse than the last. She shakes her head, trying to shrug it off, and returns to her pile of hair in the sink.

Her third visit comes three nights later, when she’s fresh from the shower, water dripping from her hair down her neck. She’s got a pint of ice cream in her hand, legs crossed on her couch as she watches reruns of Inuyasha. She presses the spoon against her tongue. They’re airing season two, but she’s only caught up halfway through season one.

She got off work a few hours ago. She’ll sleep for a few hours. And then she’ll wake up and go back to work. Then it’ll happen again. Standing on her feet for hours. Getting talked to like she’s scum by people who take video rentals too seriously. Being belittled by her boss. Making barely enough money to pay rent for her shitty apartment. It’s depressing. It’s boring. She shoves another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth to try and distract herself from it.

“Whatever you think life’s gonna be like away from here, it’s gonna be worse than you think. And I bet, when you realize that, you’re really gonna start to miss me.”

On her television, human-faced fruit falls from a demon tree. She puts her ice cream down. At least she hasn’t got to that point yet.

From above, she can hear footsteps moving. She can hear his door open, and swing shut. She can hear him stomp down the stairs. Her head is already turned in his direction when his fist raises to knock on her door.

She shifts off the couch and steps towards her door. She undoes the deadbolt. She undoes the chain lock.

Iwaizumi greets her with a smile once she opens the door. He’s wearing a t-shirt that reveals the clear definition in his arms. Her eyes linger there for a second too long before they flick up to meet his. “I owe you a favor now.”

★⋆. ࿐࿔

Iwaizumi’s not stupid. He never has been. He’s careful and deliberate and sure, in everything he does. And that’s the reason his record’s clean. It’s the reason he’s never been caught and the reason he’s been able to keep this whole thing going. He doesn’t second guess himself. He doesn’t make mistakes. He doesn’t get desperate.

With one, recent exception.

His internal reasoning: his gut tells him she’s trustworthy. He just looks at her, and he knows it. She acts like a private person, keeping to herself and minding her own business. She never has guests. She’s never given him any trouble. Never looked at him like she was scared of him. And, no, it’s not just because she’s pretty. It’s not just because he likes the smell of her fresh lemon perfume blended with the smell of her menthol cigarettes. It’s not just he wants a reason to talk to her, to knock on her door.

Iwaizumi would never do something so stupid.

She sits across from him, cross-legged on the (recently mopped, from the looks of it) floor of her living room. She is carefully studying the layout of CDs in front of her, and he is carefully studying her. The sort of messy way she lets her hair fall. The boxers she wears as shorts and the way they hug the bottoms of her thighs. The boxy shirt that hangs off her shoulders, loose and wrinkled, sporting the name of some band or movie or whatever that he’s never heard of.

Iwaizumi likes looking at her. He doesn’t act caught when she lifts her gaze to see him staring. She doesn’t blush. He wants to see her blush.

She leans forward and picks a CD. Iwaizumi tilts his head to read it. New Order. “Can I ask you a question?” he says, because, at this point, he figures that she won’t.

“Go for it,” she answers with a shrug, extracting the CD from its case with care and precision, movements delicate.

“How’d you end up here?” he asks, watching her face as she bites down on her tongue, placing the CD face down into the gift he got her. “I mean, girl like you, figure you should be enrolled in university or something.”

Her finger is firm against the play button, and the CD whizzes to life. “Girl like me,” she repeats back, though it sounds like it’s mostly mumbled to herself, a touch of bitterness to her tone. She shakes her head and looks up at Iwaizumi. “Is that the kinda question you’d answer? Honestly.”

He smirks. “Nah, I guess not.”

Music is slow to start up. It skips a bit, at first, but then it smooths out as the song progresses, evening out. Iwaizumi doesn’t look away from her. “I didn’t like it at home, so I left. This is where I ended up.”

Iwaizumi shifts, his hand reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and he fishes out a pack of cigarettes. He’s already got one in his mouth when he asks, “Mind if I smoke?”

Her response is a shake of her head, and she pushes up to stand on her feet. Iwaizumi watches her legs as she walks towards the window and, with a bit of a struggle, jerks it open. The early spring air drifts into her living room and cools it considerably. Iwaizumi lights the end of his cigarette. She grabs her own pack and an old cap to a pint of ice cream she’s been using as an ash tray before she sits back down, across from him.

She puts the cigarette to her lips, and before she can reach for her own, Iwaizumi lifts his lighter up, and the flame catches on the end of hers. She inhales, and Iwaizumi watches as her pupils dilate. “Thanks,” she says when she turns her head to let out a cloud of smoke.

“No problem,” he says, and leans back, resting his weight on the hand he places behind him. Iwaizumi jerks his chin and asks, “You gonna cash in that favor any time soon?”

“Hmm,” she muses, flicking the tip of her cigarette against the already ashy cardboard. “Think I’ll save it, for now.”

an: PHEW this was certianly a lot. flexing my writing muscles so this might not be great. right now im planning three total chapters but idk i might end up writing more and dividing the story up differently. if you've made it this far pls let me know what u think im so extremely nervous/anxious lmafo

if you enjoy please leave a like, rb, comment or ask <3

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @pinkiscool @michivrse @causenessus @cannibalsrider @cherrypieyourface @kmwife @k8nicole @oikasenpai (fill out form linked in masterlist to be added)

[tsukiran]

best offer ー brazil!hinata shoyo x reader angst/comfort

"Wait for me?"

His words rang in your ears as soon as you heard of the news. His friends reassured you over and over again. Even banned you from social media momentarily. Just until the news is clear.

You're waiting at an airport in Sao Paulo, as what he had planned weeks ago. Both about to do your Europe trip with his friends waiting in the starting city of your itinerary. Both about to spend your anniversary vacation. Both about toー

Your sob seeped through your system as your anxiety heightened.

"Have you checked your baggages?"

"Yes baby. A check-in baggage and a carry on. 10 sets of outdoor clothes. 3 of formal, rest are casual."

"Your toiletries?"

"We're sharing our toiletries for over 4 years already, baby." You heard his deep chuckle. "That's not gonna change until I die okay?"

What happened? Shoyo, just pick up..

"Bakayama and Oikawa-san's gonna get me if we're a flight late and not together. Wait for me, okay?"

Shoyo's supposed to be plane crashed somewhere enroute Sao Paulo. He was from an away game and just last night he told you about their win and coming home to your arms. He's a flight late but it didn't matter now. Sao Paulo's volleyball star all-rounder Hinata Shoyo is believed on board that crashed plane and all of the state is already on fact checking. It's been 2 hours.

You jumped upon your phone ringing, fidgeting hands pawed at Kenma's video call.

"Breathe." He said over the line after talking over calming you. "He's fine. Shoyo's fine. Trust me."

You nod, then sobbed, phone on your forehead as you broke down. Familiar voices were calling you on the other line easing your tension but heck, you can't as long as Shoyo's not here with you right now.

"Can't we go to Sao Paulo, Kenma? Yn's alone."

"Kenma, you can finance us."

"I already booked tickets for me and Iwaizumi-san."

"What about us!?"

"Yn needs calm people right now."

"Iwa-chan! We are calmー"

"Yeah right."

You tuned them out. You can care less who's gonna be here. All you wanted was Shoyo.

A chilling hour passed before the Brazil media went into a rushing chaos. You thought it was someone else they were waiting but when you saw a bright orange disheveled hair weaving across rows of media, you broke down again and got rooted in your place.

But you waited. You waited for him to reach you in your spot.

He ignored all of the media and when he spotted you, he dropped everything and directly made a beeline to you, crashing your head to his chest, comforting arms around you. Your arms may be crashing his torso right now but you don't care. He's here already.

"You're late, Shoyo."

"Well," His sniffles were audible along with his hoarse voice, all above his chuckle. "Plane's rude, baby. Left with me still in the toilet seat. And you forgot to mention my charger and wallet. When we settle down for our flight to Italy, I'm sorry but we have to reorganize my stuff."

You buried your face in his chest further, chuckling and crying. "Thought you're gonna make me wait forever."

He kissed your crown, above all the noise of the media and their flashing cameras. "Will never gonna happen. I have to have you with me all the time from now on. What do you say?"

Honestly? That's the best offer he gave you. But you have to give him a mouthful before that for being so clumsy.

quick whip after the plane crash in Sao Paulo yesterday. my condolences to all grieving families. will include you all in my prayers tonight.

ran2024. hearts and reblogs are appreciated.

[hyugaswhore]

are we exclusive? ft. suna rintaro

syn✧psis : you loved him. and he loved you. but neither of you wanted to admit it; leaving you in the throes of your non-existent relationship.

c✧ntains : mdni. f!reader. slight bit of smut in the beginning. all characters 20+. minor spoiler (league team/ejp raijin). smut to fluff to angst. angst no comfort. you shout at him and he shouts at you in return. no happy ending. 2.5k words.

life's all fun and games until someone falls in love.

your eyes close in pleasure as suna kept thrusting, hitting that spot over and over again. moans and grunts accompanied the skin slapping echoing through the room as he pistoned his hips rhythmically.

wrapping an arm around your waist, he started to rub your sensitive nub, bringing you closer and closer to your high. "fuck, baby, y'feel so good around me," he grunted, his husky voice sounding like music to your ears.

a whine escaped your lines as you gripped the sheets harshly, digging your face further into the soft cushion. you babbled his name like a mantra, as if those words were all you've ever known. your back arched alerting suna the knot in your belly tightened.

pride swelled in his chest making him quicken his pace, his fingers becoming rougher on your poor clit. while your moans grew in volume until you were pushed off the edge, harshly coming on his cock, a final scream accompanying it.

the man didn't stop, trying to chase his own high. after a few more thrusts, he stilled as he pumped his cum in you, the warm filling sensation becoming all too familiar to you.

he collapsed beside you as he pulled out, the sticky white liquid oozing out of you. bated breaths sounded through the empty apartment, no other sound being heard.

the middle blocker slung an arm around you as he nuzzled his face affectionately in your neck while a small smile started to crawl its way onto your lips.

you both lay in each other's arms as the sun's rays shone through your blinds, the soft light kissing your skin as you both chuckled. you savoured the moment as you both stared at each other. so many things unsaid swirling in the pools of emotions you never admitted.

"...rin?"

the man hummed in response.

your mouth opened as you wanted to ask the question you've wanted to for months now. just three words. just one sentence. just one question. then i'd know.

the unexpected pause made him look at you in curiosity, a whisper of your name leaving him.

"i..." you sighed. "nevermind."

he reeled his head back as sharp yellow eyes narrowed at you. after receiving confirmation that you're not gonna speak again, he sighed too. removing his arms from you, he got up from the bed and the pitter-patter of his footsteps sounded as he wandered around your apartment. you find yourself frowning due to missing his warmth, not thinking he'd be leaving so soon.

the sound of water made your ears perk up, the middle blocker suddenly leaning on your doorway with a small smile, "let's get you cleaned up yeah?"

a grin soon replaced your sullen look as you nodded, "yes pleaseeee," you whined playfully, extending your arms in a grabby motion.

the athlete chuckled as he hooked his arms under your knees and neck, carrying you over to the sweet-smelling bath. he carefully put you down as he pecked your forehead and got in himself, rubbing circles on your back in an attempt to alleviate the soreness.

your relationship with suna rintaro was unusual. it wasn't one that could be defined as a simple friendship, nor was it a normal romantic relationship.

no, you two were fuck buddies.

on the notion that you two would strictly keep a friends with benefits relationship. no strings attached. a relationship that didn't have to deal with all the nonsense and problems that came with being a couple.

but even with your mutual agreement, even with all the stupid decisions, even with all the unsaid 'i love you's,' you had fallen for suna rintaro.

you stirred awake by the heavy footsteps frantically scurrying through your apartment. "rin...?" you called, rubbing your eyes to force yourself awake somehow. when you didn't hear a response you groggily got up and walked to your doorway.

eyes darted to the man speeding through the living room, trying to get all his stuff in his duffle bag.

with a yawn escaping your lips, you looked at the man in unconcentrated confusion, "why such the rush? you don't have practice today, come back to-"

"captain texted, he said we should go practice today 'cuz the storm died down," he said with uncharacteristic edge and haste.

ears perked up and becoming more alert, you asked, "what time is it now?" worry laced in your tone.

"2 pm," upon saying that, the brunet dashed out your front door with you quickly following him in tow. "did you even eat anything?!" you shouted in concern.

the middle blocker didn't miss a beat as he turned the corner swiftly, "no time!"

your eyes narrowed in irritation as you let out a sigh rubbing your temples, "this man will be the death of me."

the next half hour was spent with you showering, getting ready, and of course, preparing his food: two egg rolls, four sausages, two meatballs, broccoli and sliced carrots, some cherry tomatoes, coupled with white rice and a plum in the middle. and if it wasn't already enough, you put three onigiri left over from last night's takeout. you wrapped the lunchbox neatly before promptly rushing out the door.

luckily, your apartment was close so the drive to the gym only took seven minutes. you parked your car and briskly walked inside the building. a certain friendly libero greeting you as soon as you walked through the glass doors, a hearty hello with your name as he waved cheerily.

turning your head in the direction of his voice, a smile made its way onto your face, "mori! hey!" you waved back.

he approached you in four quick strides and gave you a hug. as he let go, a smirk appeared on his face, "ohhh, you here for someone? visiting your boyfriend?" he teased, eyeing the bento box in your hand.

blood rushed quickly to your cheeks, and you playfully shoved him away before he could notice. which he did. calling a quick 'shut up' and walking past him towards suna.

he was talking to washio, probably about their next game you guess. the raven haired man saw you approaching and waved to you, a pleasant 'nice to see you' from him. this caught the brunet's attention as he swiftly spun around with genuine confusion calling your name, "what are you doing here?"

a prideful grin broke through your face, closing your eyes and showing him the wrapped lunch, "i made you food!"

as you held up the box, you failed to notice the fox-eyed man's flush and his friend's extreme side eye.

"that's really nice of you," washio chuckled behind him, "though why only bring him lunch now?" he asked, looking at the clock near the doors, 3:47 pm.

you didn't miss a beat, "he didn't eat anything before he left the apartment," you replied, a slightly annoyed expression meeting a sheepish one.

but washio eyes widened as he easily caught your slip-up, "the apartment? you two live together?"

both of you stilled, panic glossing over your eyes. the brunet whipped around, clicking his tongue, "we don't. i was just walking by her house when the storm started to get bad." you nodded behind him confirming his lie.

"ah, very lucky you were close by," the black-eyed man said as he looked between you both, seemingly not buying it. but your shoulders both slumped in relaxation as a chuckle left his lips. "no wonder he's extra sluggish today," he joked, slapping the brunet's back. "i'll go tell the captain about it, i'm sure he'd like to have you back at top form, so go on ahead and eat," he waved to you both as he walked away.

the middle blocker stood a bit stunned as he mumbled a thank you to his teammate before turning around and pushing you to one of the quiet corners of the room. he sat down and pulled you with him, a confused "what the hell are you doing?" escaping you.

he took the box from your hands and started to unwrap it, "you didn't eat either, did you?'

he rolled his eyes when his question was met with silence, "dumbass."

the man grabbed the chopsticks and picked up one of the meatballs, holding it up to your lips.

blood once more rushed to your face, "rin what if someone sees?" you panicked, holding your hands in front of your face.

clicking his tongue in annoyance, he shoved the food further in your face, "do you wanna eat or not?"

you groaned in frustration as you dropped your arms, accepting defeat and opening your mouth.

"see that wasn't so hard was it?" he teased, the corners of his lips tugging into a smirk.

but what you didn't know was that he had fallen too.

footsteps trudged through your apartment as you sat in your studio, hand-sewing the layers of tulle onto your client's dress. the sounds of the steps coming closer until they seemingly stopped at your doorway. casting a quick glance towards the man standing there, you smirked slightly, a giddy feeling blooming in your chest. "couldn't keep away from me, huh? i know i'm irresistible rin but you were here three hours ago," you teased.

the middle blocker mirrored your own smirk, "i wasn't the one shouting 'more! more! more!'" raising his voice to mock you.

you looked at him in shock and offense as you pointed your needle at him with a flushed face, "shut the fuck up!"

his laughter boomed through the walls causing your own laughter to mix in with his. soon enough the sounds of joy died down and the room overcame a comfortable calmness.

sparing one more glance, a small smile tugged at your lips as you saw a tiny grin resting on his handsome features. chuckling, you decided to tease him one more time, "you know, if i hadn't known any better, i'd think you've fallen in love with me by the way you're looking at me like that."

your eyes trained back on the dress, not ready to see the inevitable look of disgust and call of rejection. so you weren't able to see the red quickly painting his cheeks. "keep dreaming, princess," he defended with just the slightest hint of edge in his tone.

the smile you once held quickly dropped into a frown, obviously hurt and embarrassed for even saying that. you wanted to just drop into the ground and never appear again; clinking glasses with hades was never a bad idea, no? pulling the dress closer to your face, you squinted at the non-existent details of the stitching in an attempt to hide yourself.

a suffocating stillness replaced the once peaceful silence.

the brunet coughed, trying to break the awkward atmosphere. "i'll uh, go cook dinner," he said, walking away briskly.

hearing this alarmed you, rising from the floor in an instant and walking to your doorway shouting "but rin i don-"

"samu said you haven't had a good break in a few days," he shouted as loud clangs echoed from the kitchen. "so 'm cooking our dinner and we're binging ghibli movies after!"

"i didn't agree to any of this?! i could kick you out right now you know?"

"wasn't asking babe and you wouldn't do that!"

the falling wasn't immediate, no, it was slow, and envious, and livid.

neither of you realized the starving touches, the longing looks, or the details paid attention to, but it was already too late because you both had fallen too deep.

a defeated sigh left your lips as you reluctantly double tapped the photo; a sour tase left in your mouth as you glared stared at the lucky person your boyfriend fuck buddy was on a date with. the frown settled on your lips only grew wider as you tapped into the comments.

you laughed lightly as you read the team's banter. it was adorable how they all act the same even after all these years. but that same smile soon disappeared as you typed your comment, a bitter feeling blooming in your chest. "fucking hell..."

fingers hovered over the post button before a loud ring sounded from your phone, surprising you as you recognized the familiar tone, "rin..." you shook off the nervousness and answered the call. "why're you calling me, dumbass? aren't you on a date right now with akira?" you said, trying to hide your irritation.

although the brunet knew you well. too well. he could pick up any and every tone change in your voice, even the slightest bit of annoyance, no matter how much you tried to hide it. "jesus calm down, 's almost like i'm on a date with you from the way you're saying that."

'god i fucking wish.' "you idiot it's rude to call someone else when you're on a date," you emphasized 'date' with slight venom in your tone, disliking the way he's with someone, being public about it when he never wanted that with you, and still having the audacity to call you of all people.

"yeah yeah, jus' wanted ta ask you something" he said quietly, sounding a bit guilty? sad? you couldn't quite pinpoint it.

"what?"

silence came from the other side before you heard very faint mumbling, not being able to make sense of what he said. what you could hear was 'date,' and 'instead.' your brows furrowed in confusion, "ri-suna i can't hear you, you keep mumbling."

you could hear a grumbled 'call' and 'rin' before getting agitated, "suna speak up! what do you want from me?" you yelled, voice booming in the quaint household.

the athlete flinched in surprise at your volume, your frustration, and especially that you shouted at him of all people. "fucking christ what's your problem? if you're just gonna be a bitch about me being with akira then i never should've called you in the first place!" you stared blankly with eyes and mouth wide open as the end call sound played from the device in your hands.

you shook with wrath from the abrupt and sour end to what may have been your last phone call with suna, throwing aside the gadget on the couch before you looked away. eyes suddenly meeting a framed picture of you and him. he had his arm slung around your shoulder, pulling you close as your backs faced the camera, looking out into the crashing waves and setting sun. a humourless laugh escaped you, 'it almost looks like a honeymoon photo.' you were glad that both of your expressions were hidden from the world. so that you could keep his love, or what you thought it was, a little secret to yourself. you'd never forget what he looked like—how he looked at you. as if you hung the stars in the sky, as if the world he lived in wouldn't be worth it without you by his side, as if you were the breath of fresh air he needed to survive. god how you wished it so much.

pinpricks of hot tears started cascading down your cheeks, aggrieve filling your chest. in misery and vulnerability you scrunched yourself up and buried your face in your knees, quiet sniffles and desperate breaths of air echoing in the broken home. your throat closing up as you recall the events following that photo. your heart throbbed excruciatingly, grieving for a love that never lived.

"...hey."

"?"

"are we exclusive?"

...

"no."

[selarina]

Suna Rintaro x reader

Content Warnings: actress!au, hurt/comfort, self-image concerns

You look colorless in your monotone pair of undergarments. You're peering beyond your obscenely long window, angling your head up, as you maintain eye contact with the hail bouncing off rhythmically against the pavement outside. 

It would be a peaceful image to walk onto if it weren't for the circumstance.

Suna remains steady in his walk toward you, seamlessly weaving around the slew of clothes on the floor. Each piece of clothing lying in various forms of unraveling, as though you only just tried them on and discarded them.

He’s been walking to you with socks on but even so, you almost immediately twist your head towards him as though you heard him all along. You take a glance at him, acknowledging him. It was a routine that you two played out whenever one was wandering through toward the other. 

He stops in his tracks, he has accidentally stepped on a t-shirt lying on the floor.

"I'm sorry," your voice is firm, however, almost inaudible, a soft whisper and he looks up. You sound hoarse, as though you have cried and cried until you found your way to wherever you are right now.

He can see your eyes more clearly now, as they hang on to your face heavily. He doesn’t say anything. He knows you only cry when you have a place to put your emotions. Without one, your emotions, much like blood, flow out in a reddish hue, clogging up your feet and leaving you unmoving.

You only cry now when you're on set, where you can be as raw as you want and get away with it. On rare occasions, you trust him enough to staunch your bleeding heart. On even rarer occasions, you cry into the crevice of your sofa, all by yourself.

“I’m sorry”, this time it comes out softer than before, and your voice croaks out at the end. Whooshing through in an instant, he picks up a nightgown from the floor. He’s at your side now, offering you the garment. 

He'll take it one step at a time.

“Don’t like how it feels on my skin. I don’t like how any of them feel," you have been at this for a while, trying to find comfort in anything you could grasp, however menial it may be. But you couldn't even put on some comfortable clothes.

He extends his arm to take off his long, black coat. After taking a quick glance through your bleary eyes, you notice he's left standing there in an almost plain white shirt. You decide it fits him well. He offers the coat to you.

You take it. You stretch your arms out to pull it over, and as you go back to contracting into yourself, you decide you’re not ready to talk yet. 

—

You're left to stew in your own silence as you hear the soft clinks of vessels coming from the kitchen. You know you're in a sand clock right now, almost at the precipice of the end. You’re almost towering over all the sand and you decide you're ready.

And just in time, Suna walks in, holding two cups, both steaming against the chill air of your house. 

It sits warm against your hand, you realize in that moment you didn't pay attention to what was in it. You look away from his face, and into the cup. It's tea—chamomile honey, the one that sits in the front row of your collection of teas. You’ve never had to worry about running out because Suna’s always updating it. He likes chamomile, you know you’re partial to lavender rose, but you like having chamomile with him.

You look up, “I thought you were on tour,” you say, your voice already a bit less hoarse, but still comes through gruff. 

“I am,” he says. “I can take the weekend off. It’s just a weekend.”

Just a weekend, is never just a weekend in your world, but you resign to it. Just for the weekend, you think.

“Your manager’s going to be a dick about it,” you say, a tint of worry still remaining but mostly too tired to worry.

“I’ll manage,” he says. 

You half smile. “Want to watch a movie?” You ask, you’re ready to talk, you’re just so tired.

“If that’s what you want,” he says, setting his cup down and reaching for the remote, turning it on before he gives it to you.

You’re going through the catalog of movies and shows, while Suna’s ordering food on his phone, “Will two bowls be enough?”

“Two for me?”

“Alright,” he says, his eyes scaling across his phone. “I’ll add in another.”

“Thank you,” you say, sipping on tea, turning your attention back onto the screen, scaling down and down and down, but there’s nothing appealing, everything is a bit too similar to the other you think.

And then you stop. 

“Decide on something?” he asks, setting his phone down as he looks up to find a movie. Your movie, your face at the forefront of your latest thriller/rom-com, overshadowing your co-star.

“I don’t look like a real person sometimes,” you say, with a frown. 

Suna can’t help but agree, it’s heavily edited, so are most if not all of his photoshoots, but he has less experience of being at the forefront, a guitarist does what he does and leaves, and when he’s onstage, he’s never the only one on stage and it’s enough for him. 

“Well, no one wants to fuck the real me. I guess?” you deliberate, there are plenty of people who would want you for you if you weren’t an actress you think. Something about not being a real enough person as the all-encompassing actress. Is she real or are you real? You groan.

“Well, I do?” he says, almost offended as he suggests by his tone.

“Well, you’re likely the only one.” He thinks that maybe he truly is the only one.

“Good,” he says, sipping on his tea. 

[emmyrosee]

Suna is famous for having pictures, digital mementos of everything.

The day you broke up was hard for him but the day his phone died and he lost the recording of your last happy voice message?

Literal hell.

And he knows the employee went over the potential risk of hard restarting his phone to change the battery, but he just shrugged and signed the waver anyways.

But when the employee comes back with a sorry look, he knows everything is gone. every message, every picture, every text and every trace of you is released into the void of nothingness that is in the apple stratosphere.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS GONE?"

The employee winces, "sir, the icloud mustve been filled and unable to recover all your information."

"BUT ALL OF IT?! YOU COULDN'T SAVE ANY OF IT?"

"I'm sorry, sir," they say, swallowing thickly from the force of Rintaro's yelling.

If you were here, you'd tell him it's okay. That it's a new time to create more memories. And you'd cheekily tell him that the twins will provide more embarrassment for his camera roll, and Kita's well wishes will keep coming, and Aran will continue to send him his schedule regardless.

You'd tell him that now, you can fill his camera with more pictures of you. More text messages. More phonecalls.

But you're not here.

And his heartrate spikes and he cards an anxious hand through his hair and braces himself on the counter, trying to hide his tears of anger and hopelessness and defeat from the now swarming crowd.

[bakugokemkatsuki]

Right Where You Left Me

Atsumu Miya x Reader

**Genre: Angst **Part two Part 2.5 (Atsumu’s Aftermath) **Based on Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift **Key: Y/N = Your Name Taking Atsumu, You **Word Count: 553

Atsumu was the dream boy of Inarizaki. Just about every girl seemed to have a crush on him. So how you ended up here by his side was something you couldn’t believe. You didn’t fawn or throw yourself at him like most of the girls at your school but that didn’t mean you didn’t find him attractive. Falling for him wasn’t hard. With his witty jokes and handsome smile. The way he did small things like brought you lunch he would force his brother to make or study with you when he knew you had a test even if he didn’t care about studying. This is how it was for over two years. You were the one he chose out of everyone, and he made you feel on top of the world until he didn’t. After graduation Atsumu went off to play professional volleyball, which prevented you from seeing him often. That’s when it happened, he was back in town, and you were very excited to meet up. You hadn’t seen him in months. You were meeting him at his brother’s restaurant. You arrived early and talked with Osamu a bit. Atsumu walked in, in a nice suit. You ran over to him and excitedly hugged him; he hugged back and you two quickly got to ordering. After dinner you two sat in the mostly empty restaurant, that’s when it happened. Looking at you with a sad face Atsumu spoke; “Y/N… I need to tell you something. I need to be honest.” The air felt like it was stilling, and you could tell whatever was coming next was bad. “I’m so sorry. I met someone else.” Silence filled the restaurant. You swore you could hear a hairpin drop it was so quiet. “…What…” “Y/N I’m so sorry… It just happened. I promise I didn’t cheat. I invited you here tonight so we could have one last nice night together, and so I could tell you the news in person. I think we should end things. Long distance just isn’t working. I’m sorry.” Again silence. Finally, you spoke after what felt like hours. “Okay.” That was all you could manage to say. Atsumu got up and apologized again, came over kissed the top of your head one last time and then left. Gone. Out of your life forever. You just sat there staring at the spot Atsumu had been not that long ago. You ended up sitting there for hours. Osamu didn’t bother you or kick you out because he knew that you were hurting. He left you to stay there where his brother left you to process everything.

-Timeskip-

It had been almost a year since Atsumu had dumped you. He and his new girl had gone public and apparently were expecting a baby.He had moved on and you were still stuck at the restaurant. You went back every day and sat in the spot every day hoping one day he would come back. Hoping one day he would walk through the door and realize he really wanted you. You were stuck frozen in that night. You were stuck in this dilution that he would come back when he was out living his life with his new girl. He was happy and moved on and you stayed there, right where he left you.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 010 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. modern royal au. infidelity. slight angst. reader is beginning to question everything she knew. reader almost drowns. toxic characters. suggestive. toxic relationships. unedited. SHIRTLESS KIYOOMI SHIRTLESS KIYOOMI

notes. the end of kiyoomi arc... mayhaps? also highly recommend listening to the linked song for this chapter and the fanmade playlist linked in the masterlist <3

wc. 8k

series masterlist 

[ TEN ] you’ll see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night, burning it down. someday when you leave me, I bet these memories follow you around

You underestimated Kiyoomi’s enthusiasm.

Blame it on the fact you would’ve never figured the word ‘enthusiasm’ and Kiyoomi could fit in the same sentence, but as always – the Prince was full of surprises. At precisely seven in the morning, he had knocked on your door to wake you up. Not the maid, nor the butler. The Prince himself. He’d asked you to join him for breakfast, boasting that everything was from farm to table – the cheese from the milk of his cows, the meat from his poultry, the scrambled eggs neatly placed around the plate – save for the wine he’d brought all the way from Greenville. ‘Nothing like liquor from your lands,’ he’d commented, and poured you a drink. You stifled a laughter. You hadn’t thought one could have wine for breakfast, but alas, the customs in the Palace were different. Here, you were just you, and Kiyoomi could simply be.

After breakfast, he’d given you a tour of his farmhouse, although calling it ‘house’ was entirely too humble.

Located in the countryside, surrounded by thick greenery and a dense forest with overlooking hills, Kiyoomi’s farmhouse felt like a sanctuary compared to the Palace. He didn’t even need much security, whatnot with the tall trees decorating the driveway to offer privacy. His gardens contained lush greens, and a diverse variety of flowers you hadn’t ever seen before. He knew them all by heart, even their scientific names. You teased him about it, how he was just showing off at this point, because who spews scientific names of flowers when no one asked? He took it with grace, though, or as much grace a flustered Prince could, anyway.

He’d scratched the back of his ear, looking at everywhere but you. “You spend enough time reading books and you can’t help studying everything.”

“I think it’s impressive,” you nudged his shoulder, “I’d certainly boast, too, if I had that knowledge.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “But maybe not about flowers. No one cares about flowers.”

“I do!”

“Sure,” he snorted, “As long as they’re pretty enough to look at, you’ll like them.”

“I can’t help that I like pretty things.”

“No, you can’t,” his face smoothened, and he snuck a glance at you – all too quickly before straightening up. “I certainly can’t.”

Sometimes, you wondered if Kanami made herself busy on purpose. If maybe, just maybe, she had installed cameras all around the farmhouse and giggled to herself if she could see you and her son interacting. Bent over a bed flowers, with Kiyoomi explaining their origins, and you listening intently. Or Kiyoomi introducing you to his chickens (yes, he’d named them), and then snickering (which you soon learned was his version of a laugh) when you ran away after a mother hen mistook you for a threat. Of course, you didn’t share the same sentiments of humor. The mother hen’s claws were not a laughing matter, but Kiyoomi thought otherwise. He’d simply shaken his head because he wouldn’t let any form of harm come to you, anyway.

You wished that offhanded comment didn’t make you feel so warm inside.

Being here with Kiyoomi was… Well, it was better than anything you’d expected. This was how you wished your honeymoon had been – filled with laughter, sharing in good, lighthearted conversation, and being a part of nature. Spending minutes in silence while you took in your daily dose of sunlight. Being in good company. You were glad you accepted Kanami’s offer, and you only enjoyed yourself more with each passing hour you’d made yourself acquainted with Kiyoomi and his precious farm.

And then there was that nagging voice that told you he wasn’t Rintaro.

You snorted. He definitely wasn’t. If he had been Rintaro, you would probably be in the middle of nowhere, miserable, and crying yourself until you’ve dried up like a prune. No – you didn’t want to think about him right now. It would defeat the entire purpose of this getaway. You wanted to enjoy yourself, and enjoy you did. For now, you gazed upon everything your human eyes could take in – the slope of the hills, the slight swaying of the tree leaves from the fresh breeze, the cows grazing on the grass, and Kiyoomi’s dog, Kael, herding those who went astray. Such a confusing image to paint, that of a Prince wearing his riding boots at the porch of his back garden.

“Wow,” you exhaled, following him into the stables. He’d lent you some boots, too, and was now reigning the straddle parts for the horses. “I underestimated your place. Do you own all of these lands?”

“I do,” he proudly said, and swung open the tiny, white wooden gates to reveal a tall horse with shining black fur. He chuffed upon the sight of Kiyoomi. His tail wagged, his snout reaching over just when Kiyoomi extended his palm to cup his nose. In front of you, a ghost of a smile flittered on his lips. “This is Astra. He’s mine. Had him since he was an infant; Kanami got him for me on my twelfth birthday.”

You couldn’t help but smile too. For all his grumpiness around his Mother’s fretting of him, it was clear the Prince loved her. And it was such a nice thing to see since the other Princes weren’t so lucky when it came to their mothers.

Kiyoomi beckoned you to come forward, and so you did. You were hesitant at first, because Astra was enormous. He stood at least two heads taller than you, with thick, powerful legs that could easily crush you with one kick. But Kiyoomi was there holding him close by his reigns, and you grew more confidence with each step. Smiling at him, you bravely lifted a hand to cup his face.

“Hello, Astra. You are so beautiful.”

Astra chuffed at your compliment, and Kiyoomi let out his barely audible breathy chuckles.

“He’s flattered by the compliment. And that one next to him is Lucy, his girlfriend. She’s great for beginner riders,” he was now fixing Lucy’s reigns as he spoke, adjusting the foothold before leaning over her to glance at you. “Have you ridden one before?”

“Only several times.”

Nodding, you followed as Kiyoomi led the two horses outside the barn. Astra seemed to be over the moon upon being with Lucy without being separated by their gates, chuffing and whinnying repeatedly while bumping noses with her. Lucy was much more reserved, but returned the gesture and even licked him adoringly, which made your chest ache. Gods. Now you were jealous because these horses had a healthier, more loving relationship than you.

Before you could dwell on it, however, a pair of strong arms were already lifting you up. You yelped as you rose mid-air and flailed wildly. The ground below you disappeared, and soon, you were perched on Lucy’s back, while Kiyoomi effortlessly hopped on a much taller Astra. The action seemed so natural to him as if he’d done it multiple times – and dare you say, infuriatingly attractive. The Prince had the top three buttons of his shirt undone because he’d worked a sweat chasing the chickens away from you a while ago, and his curls stuck to his forehead in a way that showcased high-chiseled cheekbones you hadn’t seen before. And… wow. He was breathtaking without realizing it. It felt wrong to think that way, to feel this way, but it was just admiration, was it not? He was a literal Prince Charming, with a dash of awkwardness, and a spritz of unexpected geekiness.

You turned away when his large, calloused, and veiny hands began stroking Astra’s mane. You’d rather not have to think about how those same strong, yet gentle hands lifted you up as if you weighed nothing, and truly, that white shirt of his did little to hide his muscular build. Clearing your throat to rid yourself of those thoughts, you tightened your grip on the reins. “Where to, my Prince?”

“To the edge of the world.”

A smirk was all he gave you before he tapped Astra with his ankles, sending the stallion running off. Your jaw dropped. You hadn’t expected he’d leave you behind, and you refused to be left alone. Mimicking his gestures, you tapped on Lucy and bellowed. She ran and ran, hard enough that your bottom began to feel sore, but that was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the sensation of the fresh wind whipping at your cheeks, the sun shining down on your skin, and the sounds of hooves hitting the Earth. Your racing heart matched the beat of Lucy’s footsteps as she easily caught up to a carefree Astra. She whinnied, and he responded with one of his own, making the Prince smile when you showed up beside him not a moment later – the smile on your faces proud.

“I knew you could catch up,” he shouted from over the wind, and your smile broadened.

The two of you rode aimlessly for what seemed like hours, even if it was just only minutes. Kiyoomi took you everywhere – in the middle of the forest, where you squealed as the horses ran over puddles and the dirt muddied your boots. But you found yourself unable to care. You were filled with so much glee, with so much life, that you were certain your heart was now pulsing in your arms. It was surreal how much you could see in slow motion despite the speed you were riding at. How your vision had become crystal clear as you took in the tall trees surrounding you, the deers running off and hiding when you’d ran past them. How Kiyoomi always seemed to be a few steps ahead, but always looking back to see if you’d follow him. You did, and you always would, even as he led you deeper into the forest and past the clearing.

Astra slowly skidded to a halt as you took in the scenery in front of you, and you tugged on Lucy, eyes wide open and jaw dropped. A nearly torn down fortress built of stone that was probably piled hand by hand stood before you, vines and moss growing from the walls from old age. It seemed sturdy, yet the holes and cracked towers said otherwise. It must have been centuries since someone last used this place.

“Are those castles?”

“Castle ruins,” he corrected, clicking his tongue as he led Astra to circle around the ruins. “Before Inarizaki split from Itachiyama, the first rulers set their base here.”

“So this was where the original monarchs were.”

It was the typical layout of a castle, with a flatter centre in the middle, and two, tall pillars on its side to serve as its towers. The right tower had already been destroyed, though, leaving a hole in its wake. The large wooden doors from the entrance of the castle had multiple marks on it, as if people had repeatedly tried to beat the doors down with their stakes and weapons. Black marks also decorated the stones, and judging by the empty, darkened patches of soils that was blatantly contrasting with the otherwise growing greenery around the ruins, this Castle must’ve been burnt down at some point.

“Yes, but as you can see, they’re nothing but ruins now. Inarizaki took with them whatever old rules and scriptures they had back in the old days. That’s why we still keep some traditions in our country, although its true origin was from the True Land. The old Itachiyama.”

“Traditions such as last dances on a debut ball?”

“Traditions such as that,” he agreed, rather shyly. His voice had grown distant now that he rode before you, more out of protectiveness as he peeked in the open windows. Once satisfied with what he’d seen, he jumped off Astra and walked to you, absentmindedly placing his large palm on your knee. “We can go see the ruins for ourselves, if you would like.”

Heat spread from where his hand came into contact with your skin – or leggings. Blinking back your nervousness, you reached your hands out to Kiyoomi, letting him gently place you down until you were steady on your feet.

“We are allowed? Wouldn’t that be trespassing?”

“We are royals. Technically, these are the homes of our ancestors,” he stated, and then pursed his lips when you didn’t laugh. “It was a jest. Everyone is free to roam around as they please. As I have said, Itachiyama has less rules.”

You venture inside the castle ruins, fascinated by it all. You kept thinking about what Kiyoomi said – how these were the homes of your ancestors. Once, a long time ago in history, Inarizaki and Itachiyama were united as one, huge territory. Their Kings and Queens lived here and wrote history for themselves. People roamed these hallways once, and it must have been bustling with life. These same stone staircases in which you climbed on were probably littered with torches beside the walls, with their knights guarding each mysterious and hidden door. And gods, the things done behind those doors. Did the Princesses giggle amongst themselves during tea times? Did the Princes like to sharpen their swords and had their choice of horses, as well?

Did the Kings love their Queens?

So many questions unanswered, except Kiyoomi did have answers. He satisfied your unending curiosity by telling you everything you wanted to know – that yes, Kings did love their Queens and former monarchs had many heirs and heiresses. Or how the original Castle only had a right and left wing, but the last King before the country was split in two dedicated a South wing as a burial spot for his wife, the last Queen, who had died in childbirth. He was nicknamed ‘The King of the End’ because his wife’s death led him to a dark path of war, bloodshed, and ultimately, the separation of Inarizaki and Itachiyama. He had become so cruel in his grief that he wielded his power as King wrongly; starving his people, abusing his servants, and neglecting his daughter, who had become the leader of a movement that gave way to Itachiyama becoming an independent territory. Unable to handle anymore of her father’s evil ruling, she’d banished him to Inarizaki, to the northern areas of the country, where her father continued the monarchy.

The story – heartbreaking and dark – caused the mood to dampen. You watched as Kiyoomi stopped inspecting the rooms, probably imagining for himself how this place held a lot of memories, both good and bad. He’d even made a point that he technically wasn’t a half-blood foreigner, since Inarizaki and Itachiyama all originated from one nation.

But he brushed it off, and you wondered if the Prince somehow felt alienated for being the only ‘half-blooded Prince.’ Which you found ridiculous because if that was the logic you followed, then all the Princes except Rintaro would be a half-blood for being illegitimate children. You made no other comments, however, and instead let the Prince reveal things about himself that he could in his own pace. Still, it seemed his mind had gone off a different path the quieter you got, and you nudged his shoulder, a teasing smile on his face.

 “I still can’t believe you attended my debut ball. I was a nobody at the time. To hear of a Prince coming…”

Kiyoomi looked confused.

“You were not a nobody. Your father is the kingdom’s general.”

“Yes, but we like to keep to ourselves, and Inarizaki hasn’t fought wars in decades. It isn’t like my father is an active soldier when he has no battles to partake in.”

“He is still an important figure for the Crown. Not to mention your mother comes from a family of business tycoons,” he reminded, narrowing his eyes at you in what seemed to be ridicule – more out of puzzlement than rudeness. “You truly are unaware of your influence, do you? Your family is one of the three noble families that helped Inarizaki’s kings hold the crown.”

You shrugged. You were well-aware of your family’s position in the Kingdom, but it did not feel the same. “That may be true, but I did not go out much. People did not make efforts to befriend me, either. I cannot help but think people do not care much about me.”

“All of the Princes received the invitation letter for your birthday, but we get them enough that Her Majesty discards them, or leaves it up to our judgment should we wish to go,” as if recalling the memory crystal clear, the Prince went beet-red from his neck-up. He tried to hide it by puffing out his collar, but to no avail. The redness of his skin still peeked from his shirt, and you stifled a giggle. “I had just turned twenty-one at that time, so my mother had visited. I guess you could say it was sheer luck that she chanced upon your invitation and insisted I go.”

“To establish connections and form alliances with the general’s daughter?” you cajoled.

“To find a wife, actually,” he sputtered out, “My mother worries I will die a lonely man because I do not speak with women. Or to anyone, at all.”

“You speak plenty to me.”

“Only because I enjoy your company, and our conversations are not mindless, boring politics.”

“True, but if we were back in the Palace, I would have probably talked about politics with you. Or worse, biscuits and tea. We would not have been able to talk casually about flowers, or say,” you gestured around you, “The history of our countries and all the wars caused by a man in love.”

“May history never repeat itself,” he replied drily, and you laugh.

You roamed the ruins for a little longer, noticing details like the dusty and faded portraits of the old monarchs. Some of them have been torn up, save for a portrait of a beautiful young woman who must have been the last Queen. The one buried at the South Wing.

The rooms had been emptied, too, which you found off. You expected to see at least remnants of a bed, or a study, but Kiyoomi had explained that not much survived the fire. You were enamored with everything, though, feeling like you were time travelling. And you didn’t stop exploring until you’ve turned every room upside down without bothering the evidence of history, and Kiyoomi was content to let you be. Later, when you’d both grown tired and weary of the weakening rock fortress, you returned to where you tied Astra and Lucy.

The way back home was blissfully silent. The horses were no longer running, since Kiyoomi said the sun would shine brightest at this time of day, and he wanted to take you somewhere beautiful. Letting him lead the way, he led you back inside the forest and towards a lake hidden by the tall trees. It almost felt like a gated pathway, with all the trees lined up to the side and the lake sitting smack in the middle of it all.

He was right – the sunlight made everything a hundred times more beautiful.

The water glinted, gleamed like it was made of crystals. The water was so clear you could see everything underneath, from the tiny pebbles, down to the fishes swimming underneath in all bright colors. Even your reflection smiled back at you brightly. Unable to help it, you dipped a finger into the water, fascinated by the small ripples it caused, and how the smaller fishes scurried away from the motion.

Meanwhile, Kiyoomi secured the ties of the horses around a nearby tree and opened his satchel, handing you a red apple. “I grew it myself,” he nudged the fruit towards, “Here.”

“Thank you.”

You bit down on it, and held back a moan. Gods. Was Itachiyama heaven or something? Or did fruits just taste better fresh and without preservatives? His apples were juicier than the ones you have back at home, and you were gobbling it, uncaring of the juices that ran down your wrist, leaving a sticky trail in its wake. Kiyoomi had an apple for himself, too, but he seemed too amused by your reactions to start eating his.

“So,” you leaned back on your palms, bum flat on the bank, “What do you do back in the Palace?”

“Avoid Belleview at all costs.” He casted another sideways glance your way. “Do not ask me why.”

You wouldn’t dare ask why – you both knew – but you couldn’t stop your tongue from expressing your curiosity.

“Has… has Her Majesty ever pressured you and Iris to have children?”

“That is a very personal and uncomfortable question,” he sighed, exasperated, “But to answer you, no. She could care less about us as long as we fulfill our duties and do the necessary work. I imagine the case will be different for you, though, seeing as you married her precious son.”

“She hasn’t told us anything, but on the dinners we share with her, she will imply a thing or two.”

He snorted, and took a bite of his apple. “Well, good luck with that.”

“Have you known Iris a long time?”

“No. I never even knew she existed until Her Majesty told me I was getting married,” gently, he took the leftover apple core from your hands and pulled out a handkerchief, dipping the ends of it into the water before reaching for you. You stared at him, confused, when he gestured to your palms. Realization dawned on you, and you handed him your palm. Carefully, the Prince rolled up the sleeves of your blouse all the way up to your elbows and wiped the sticky remnants of the juice with his damp handkerchief.

His actions – so gentle yet intentional – made you feel all kinds of things you shouldn’t be feeling in the first place.

Yet, you couldn’t make yourself pull away from his grasp even if you wanted to.

“Why do you keep asking about her? I figured you would avoid anything that concerns her.”

You winced. “I just… I cannot help but compare myself to her. I often wonder what she has that I do not. Why Rintaro is completely smitten with her, and why he cannot love me just the same,” you admitted, thankful that the Prince has your hand in his, otherwise you’d make all sorts of flailing gestures and make yourself look more like a bumbling fool compared to the ever-so-graceful Iris. “It’s not to say I am the better choice, but have I not given him everything? I gave him my heart and soul. I vowed to spend a lifetime with him. What has she given him that I could not?”

“My brother is a fool. You cannot intellectualize a fool’s decision.”

“On the contrary, your brother is very smart.”

“Academically, maybe, but he knows nothing about life.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“I have lived longer than him.”

“Only by three years!”

“And yet it is crystal clear to me what Rintaro cannot see,” he pulled your sleeves down and stashed his handkerchief back into his satchel, leaning forward with his hand on his knee as he cast you a hard look. You couldn’t read whether it was anger, or something else entirely on his face. “He is a witless excuse of a husband, and more so of a man, because he truly deluded himself that he is in love with Iris when he is not.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Those two do not even talk,” he scoffed, “They merely use each other’s bodies as a way of getting oneself of. But I doubt Rintaro has shared anything intimate with her, and knowing Iris, she will not open her heart to him, either. At least I know very well she does not share the same affections.”

You shook your head, consciously rubbing your wrists together.

“What you speak of is impossible. They care about each other.”

“Rintaro doesn’t even know Iris is allergic to shellfish. He has tried feeding it to her plenty of times on their ‘dates.’ And Iris has not an effing clue over what Rintaro likes outside the bedroom – things that a lover should know about their significant other. What makes Rintaro smile? What makes Iris tick? They know none of that. They are not in love. They are just lonely.”

You flinched. “I was lonely, too, when I met the Crown Prince. Does that mean I was not in love, as well?”

“You are in love,” he gritted his teeth, “Hopelessly so. And I honestly wish you had chosen better. Anyone instead of him.”

You opened your mouth to retort – somehow, his words sounded like an insult. As if you were an idiot for falling for Rintaro, and even worse, for marrying him. Fine, you were stupid. Sure, you didn’t make the best decisions when you were in love, but must he be so cruel about it? His words had pierced your pride and shattered it, and you felt humiliated. So you stood up, determined to walk away from the Prince when your foot slipped on something, and the world turned upside down.

The blue of the sky shifted from the clearness of the water as you were submerged. The scream you were about to let out was lodged in your throat, and you kept sinking, sinking, sinking. You thrashed your arms out wildly as your wet clothes weighed you down. You struggled to breathe, your eyes stinging until you were pulled out of the water and hefted into Kiyoomi’s lap.

“Princess! Are you well?”

His hands were everywhere. Cracking your eyes open to ensure you were with him, his thumb brushing over your lips numb from the cold, and his other hand, warm and comforting at the small of your back. Briefly, in the haze of post-shock and the urgent need for air, you could vaguely see your bra peeking out from the white shirt sticking to you like a second skin. A pastel pink bra – and suddenly you were cold for an entirely different reason. Thankfully, Kiyoomi didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he was too much the gentleman to comment on it.

“Princess,” he tapped your cheek, and this time, you had no choice but to look him in the eye to reassure him. The Prince audibly sighed. “Thank the heavens you didn’t go too deep. Are you okay?”

Your teeth chattered, but you managed to flash him a thumbs-up.

“Th-the water is effing cold.”

Alarm painted over his features. The next thing you know, the Prince was shedding off his shirt and motioning for you to remove yours, as well. He’d already turned around before you could be embarrassed, taking his shirt from his outstretched hands. And my, was it warm. It smelled like him, too, of freshness and mint and nature. But mostly, it was dry, and you had no protests as Kiyoomi carried you once again – this time on Astra’s back instead of Lucy.

“Here, ride with me. Share my heat just until we head back to the farm.”

“O–” Kiyoomi was behind you in an instant, his chest deliciously warm as it pressed flushed against your back. Meanwhile, you burned to your core with embarrassment. He didn’t notice, though, because the Prince was too busy trying to get Lucy to follow him, all at the same time leading Astra forward with you blocking his path. He was so close his natural scent wafted off of you, something so masculine yet comforting. The muscles on his arms also flexed when he reached for Astra’s reign, and you were certain you were being tested right then and there. “–Kay.”

“Princess, can you promise me something?”

The hairs at the back of your hair stood. He sounded a lot closer than you previously thought he was. “Y-Yes?”

“You should avoid Iris at all costs. She is not who you think she is.”

You made it back to the farmhouse in half the time it took you to reach the castle ruins. Kiyoomi had been so worried over your health that he rushed back home. Eventually, he’d snapped at Lucy with such a fierce tone that the poor girl scurried forward, leaving you three behind with a heavier weight. You knew he meant well though – Lucy knew the way back home, and he figured seeing her without a rider would alert one of the servants to anticipate your arrival. True to his words, someone was already waiting.

“Oh, dear! What happened to you?!”

Kanami rushed forward just as Kiyoomi set you down. Like mother, like son – you thought. Kanami wouldn’t stop raising your limbs as if to inspect an injury, and she paled once she realized you were wearing Kiyoomi’s shirt, and her son strutted around the porch in his mighty, shirtless glory. Oh, Heavens. All that farm work really paid off. He was nicely built.

“She fell in the lake,” he responded calmly, though his frantic movements as a servant ran forwards said otherwise. “Please draw a bath for her. And make it warm. Thank you.”

“Yes, sir!” The maid scurried away.

Kiyoomi rushed inside the house first, while Kanami guided you back like you were a newborn foal unsteady on her legs. You didn’t need it, but the kind gesture was appreciated. A moment later, Kiyoomi appeared with a handful of towels.

“Th-thank you.”

“Oh, my, you poor thing,” Kanami crooned, “I will prepare dinner for the three of us. Please do join when you have made yourself comfortable, Your Highness.”

Excusing yourself, you headed upwards and took a warm bath. The tub had already been filled with vanilla and other oils, and you soaked in it, letting the hot water seep into your skin and relax your muscles. It also wouldn’t hurt to smell nice – especially when Kiyoomi always smelled delectable. But just as that thought crossed your mind, and the sight of his abs flexing while he ran around the porch looking for a maid flashed in your memory again, you dunked your head under the water. You’ve heard of cold dunks, but now, it was time for hot dunks.

You had to stop thinking about him.

Or… why should you? Was it to stay loyal to Rintaro? Did it even make sense to be loyal to someone who wasn’t? Was it a sin to be attracted to Kiyoomi when Rintaro was clearly into Iris?

You were exasperated, and by the time you’d finished your bath, the time on the clock told you that you perhaps enjoyed it a little too much. Remembering that Kanami was preparing dinner for tonight, you quickly got dressed and rushed downstairs. You were about to announce yourself when you heard two voices – the loud, clear one of a woman’s, and an aggravated, quieter voice belonging to a man. You froze in your spot, unsure if you should make yourself known. But what if they were arguing? Would that make it worse? Or maybe you should just walk away and not eavesdrop? You should respect their privacy –

“If you have something to say, just spit it out.”

“Silly boy. You could be sweeter to your mother. I cooked your favorite dinner!”

“This was my favorite five years ago.”

“Well, how would I know? You don’t tell me anything!” Kanami argued, and faster than you could blink, her aggravated tone quickly turned into a sickly-sweet one – the persuasive Kanami you knew so well. “Anyways, I just wanted to say I am very proud of you, son. I heard Her Majesty was pleased with the work you managed to finish here, and your people are very delighted to hear you have returned. I really wish you would visit more often.”

“…I will try.”

“And bring Her Highness with you, of course,” she added, and you bit your lip. You could just be imagining it, but Kanami sounded like she had another meaning to it. Like Kiyoomi was somehow by default going to invite you. “Also… speaking of the public. Well, they’re just eager to see you! Both of you! Which is why I am inviting you both to the premiere event of my latest movie-”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“Too many cameras. I don’t like it,” he tried to reason, and you heard footsteps echoing from the dining room. Without enough time to duck and hide, you plastered yourself against the wall, forcing a smile on your face when the Prince caught you red-handed. He smirked, seemingly amused, crossing his arms on his strong chest. “Let me ask the Princess herself if she’d like to go, though. If she does, I might change my mind.”

“I…I’ve never been to a premiere night. I would like to,” you smiled, albeit shyly, your gaze darting between Kanami and her son – who you think is now going to be your biggest problem. Or more like the things he was making you feel was becoming the problem.

“Then it is settled! I’ll bring my stylists over and we will all get ready for tomorrow’s event,” she announced, circling the dining table as she pumped her fists in the air. “Oh, you guys will be the talk of the whole country for weeks! This is going to be great!”

“I look forward to seeing your movie, Kanami.”

“Oh, and don’t forget! You’re each other’s dates,” she winked, and just like that, all hell broke loose.

For a country that claimed to not indulge in the luxuries, Kanami’s premier night could rival that of a Prince’s birthday ball. A red carpet. A hundred photographers, with even more journalists and interviews. Celebrities were everywhere you looked. This night was the definition of a night to be remembered, with all the flashing lights on you that it was actually blinding. Apparently, the public had caught wind that Prince Kiyoomi, and you, a Princess of Inarizaki and a potential Queen, would be attending, so the crowd doubled in size in anticipation. It wasn’t often their lovely Prince made an appearance to public events solely catered for media and entertainment. It was even more baffling he brought a Princess with him – one that wasn’t his wife.

At first, you were anxious they might not like you. You were the date of their Prince, and he wasn’t your husband – but the crowd cheered and screamed as you left the car, your gloved arm looped around Kiyoomi’s. He was extra handsome tonight – his curls gelled back, revealing a handsome face sculpted by the Gods themselves, and he wore a tailored suit nothing short of extravagant.

Kanami’s team did great making you look beautiful too. And dare you say, you felt confident enough to be standing next to the Second Prince. You wore a sleeveless champagne colored dress that hugged your figure well, with a fur cloak wrapped around your shoulders. A Bvlgari Serpenti Viper necklace hang on your neck, a gift from Kanami before she left first for the event. It was a simple look – nothing too flashy, and yet you could tell the difference from your usual outfits were you to show up in royal events.

Firstly, you wouldn’t be allowed to show this much skin. The amount of collarbones exposed for the world to see would have Her Majesty in a cardiac arrest. And the necklace you wore wasn’t dainty or minimal enough – by Her Majesty’s standards. The fur cloak would have her in shambles, too, but somehow, you couldn’t care that much.

Kiyoomi couldn’t tear his gaze off of you, and the cameras flashed at each move you made. Every blink, every smile, every nervous graze of your finger against Kiyoomi’s arm.

The last time people had noticed you this much and showed their love for you was when you married Rintaro. The only difference was you didn’t feel this exhilarated. On that day, you only felt miserable. Like your entire hurt was on display for the world to see. That your heartbreak was being broadcasted worldwide, and the smiles Rintaro sent your way was scripted, perfected for the cameras.

Kiyoomi wasn’t like that.

Kiyoomi wasn’t like him.

He never looked at the cameras once. He only had his eyes on you, and when he spoke, he did so behind your earrings, as if he was aware people could read his lips and this moment was private. It was just you and him, and not even the watchful, inquisitive eyes of the world could take this away from you. He made you feel safe, utterly protected even when presented for everyone to judge and criticize.

“If you wish to leave at any point, tell me and I will take you away from here.”

His voice, deep and smooth and gentle, sent shivers down your spine. It felt oddly intimate taking photos with him like this, how his arms had snaked around your waist to pull you closer to him. How he would always speak secretively, yet the slight curling of his lips would be open for the cameras to witness. How his fingerless ring sits comfortably at your hip, and you were leaning against him, smiling at the cameras whilst he smiles at you. The moment was utterly sensitive that you feared one wrong move could undo it all.

And you wouldn’t let it.

Turning your head to the side, you leaned up to whisper at him. “Thank you, but I think I will enjoy myself tonight.” You kept your voice low like his, spoke your words slowly as if you were treading on icy ground, and when you pulled away, you noticed you’d left a smear of your lipstick on the tip of his ear.

You didn’t tell him to wipe it away.

You didn’t stop when he held your hand. You didn’t tear your gaze away from him when he led you inside the building, and neither did you tell him to stop when he kept his arm around your waist until you’d found your seats. Admittedly, you couldn’t focus on the movie. It was difficult when you could feel Prince Kiyoomi’s gaze on you – how braver he seemed when in the dark. You feign ignorance to it all, or more like you tried, because you lightly pinched his thigh and told him to focus on the movie. For a moment, you thought he didn’t hear you. But then he turned his head away and you both watched his mother’s romance film – which, thankfully, she isn’t the love interest in. It would be extremely awkward if she was. But it was still a rather intense romance film – a forbidden relationship between a man and his best friend’s wife.

Kiyoomi shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You were now at the scene where the female main character and her lover, her husband’s best friend, were under the rain. They had gotten into an argument – the woman didn’t want to continue their relationship anymore, didn’t want to have to continue lying to those close to her, but the man was having none of it.

He loved her.

He’s loved her for a long time.

He loved her first.

And he knew damn well her husband wasn’t treating her right. They only got married anyway because he had gotten her pregnant at a university party, and things went downhill from there. But he could only handle so much. He could only endure so much. Eventually, all the love he’d been holding back had grown too much it had poured out from his veins. He would run after her, chase her, and follow her wherever she went. She had his heart from the moment he laid his eyes on her. He wouldn’t give up on her now.

But it was wrong – she knew it was.

You gripped the edge of your seat.

The man, broken and down to his knees, professed his love to her. His tears were flowing down his face on time with the rain, and the woman… Well, she was devastated for a lack of better words. She didn’t like her marriage. She didn’t even like her husband. But what would people say? They wouldn’t understand. They would only see her as a lowly woman who cheated on her husband, with his best friend of all people. They would never see her pain, or how she, too, craved to be loved the way she loved others.

No matter what she said, the man was never swayed. He would fight for her. He would be brave for her. And then he stood up, took her face into his palm, and kissed her. Your eyes grew wide. The kiss was too intense it was hard to believe it was only acting. No, he kissed her like he was consuming her soul, like he was breathing her in. Like he was the air she needed to live, and without her, he would be nothing. And when she kissed him back, she had melted. Like all of pins and needles she used to hold herself up withered away because there was no need to be strong when she knew he would always catch her, that he would be there to be her pillar, her strength, her fortitude.

You looked away from the kiss. Beside you, Kiyoomi had turned his gaze away from the screen, too, and his eyes were so dark it was hard to see him at all. But you knew he was looking at you. And something about his gaze seemed forbidden – felt like a secret. Because in this theater, everyone had their eyes on the screen, completely unaware that the Prince held the same intensity in his eyes when the man kissed his beloved.

Your lips tingled.

Your fingertips curled, aching, itching to reach out to him. He was right there – just within your reach. You could run your hands through his thick, dark curls. You could stare into those dark eyes and get lost within them. It wasn’t love – no, not really. But it was the beginning of something more, and you didn’t know what was louder – your heartbeat or the cheers of the audience as the movie came to an end.

And then the realization struck you –

You wanted Kiyoomi to kiss you.

The lights flashed on. The audience cheered and applauded. The moment was broken.

You looked back to the stage, feeling cold dread wash over you. You couldn’t believe it. You had thought of a different man that wasn’t your husband in ways that were… inappropriate. Is this what Rintaro felt? When he looked at Iris, did he feel this need to have his lips on her? Did he yearn for her? But what could this mean? Were you falling for Kiyoomi? It couldn’t be. It’d only been a week. You were great friends – yes, friends! And friends didn’t go around kissing each other. Friends didn’t want their friends to kiss them.

But you had wanted him to, anyway, and now your dress felt suffocating.

Wordlessly, you stood up from your seat. You headed for the exit, or the restroom, you were unsure. All you knew was that you had to leave. You turned away from everyone who greeted you, pushed away anyone who asked for a photo, and your blood ran cold. What would the tabloids say? That you were a rude Princess? You were sure you look like a madman running out of the theatre when the night had barely even begun. Maybe you looked like a criminal caught in the middle of her act – and what crime? Adultery.

Tears pricked at your eyes. You willed them away, because you didn’t want to ruin your makeup. But you just… This was all a mistake. You should have never come to Itachiyama.

He was your husband’s brother!

You pushed the doors open, arms raised to call for a driver when a flash of lights bombarded you. It stung, blinding you for a moment until you stumbled back. A horde of reporters were shoving their phones and microphones in your face before you could process anything. You pushed back to the crowd, begging for reprieve, but there were too many of them, and only one of you. They all screamed your name, chanted your title, and in the midst of it all, you heard Rintaro’s name being spoken.

“Please,” you insisted, “I just want to get back to my car. Please, let me–”

“Your Highness! Princess!” a reported shoved his way through the crowd, his microphone hitting your lip hard enough that your teeth ached. Shit. You lowkey missed the strict customs in Inarizaki – people wouldn’t be so comfortable being in your personal space otherwise. But the reporter’s next words made your stomach drop.

“Did you visit here with Prince Kiyoomi as payback?”

“I – excuse me?”

Stunned into silence, you stared back at the man demanding answers from you. There was a crazed look in his eyes, his free hand clutching a camera that had taken multiple photos at the look of surprise in your face. Your sweat turned cold, and you took a step back. You headed back for the building, only to collide with a firm chest and a familiar scent washing over you. Before you could do anything, Kiyoomi had spun you around to face him, your head tucked in his neck as he pushed through the crowd. “Out of my way!”

You clung onto him like a child. You close your eyes, letting him shoulder all the pushing and shoving, all to keep you safe within his hold. The entire way back to the car, Kiyoomi bellowed at the people to give way for the both of you, and you’d never heard him sound so angry. Yet, you didn’t feel scared – at least, not of him.

The night was just taking an unexpectedly wrong turn, and you weren’t sure how much more you can handle.

“Kiyoomi,” you cried into his chest, “I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared.”

“Do not answer them. Those are reporters and journalists crazed for the latest gossip.”

“Princess! Is it true your marriage is falling apart? Are you here in Itachiyama because of what the Crown Prince did? Answer us, Princess! What will be the future of the throne?”

The car came into view. Kiyoomi’s security team formed a barricade around you to allow you safe entry inside the car, puffing out their chests and shoving away anyone who dared tried to follow. Once inside, Kiyoomi barked on the driver to just move, and the car sped away. Your breathing slowly stabilized, but you were still far from being composed. In front of you, Kiyoomi had his hands balled into fists at his knees, his jaw clenched so tight you feared he’d pop a vein.

“Kiyoomi. What is going on? What were they talking about?”

Kiyoomi visibly relaxed at the sound of your voice. Dragging a hand down his face, he sighed, reaching for a tablet tucked away behind the seats and clicked on something. Then, he handed the tablet to you – and all your worst fears had now come to life. All the secrets you buried, the lies you’d kept – none of it was hidden anymore.

Trending for the past hour was an article recently published by a man named Kuroo Tetsurou, headlined ‘CROWN PRINCE RINTARO AND PRINCESS IRIS: LOVERS WITHOUT THEIR SIGNIFICANT OTHER?’

The headline photograph was taken from a window, the photo blurry yet all the details were clear enough. Rintaro, on the bed, leaning against the headboard with his dress shirt unbuttoned and falling down on his shoulders. Iris, on top of him, bare with only her chest censored by a thick, black line. She was kissing him, her hands looped around her neck. Rintaro held her tightly, too, like he was afraid of letting her go – his hand with your wedding ring on it cupping her cheek as he kissed her back. On his neck were multiple hickeys, and her hair let loose and wild.

You felt like you stopped breathing entirely.

“Sir,” mumbled the driver nervously, “Are we going back to the farmhouse?”

“No. Head for the airport. We’re going straight to the palace.”

“But… Sir, your mother is still at the-”

“Kanami will understand,” grunted Kiyoomi, who suddenly snatched the tablet from you and shut it off. You didn’t know whether to be thankful or not. Quite frankly, you didn’t know what to feel. You felt numb and about to go insane all at the same time. Kiyoomi was more composed, at least, but it seemed he knew about this earlier and came running after you. Sighing, he loosened his tie and leant back against his seat.

“We need to go back to Inarizaki.”

You swallowed. You knew it now – you weren’t any better than Rintaro in the photos. But you could be honest, you could tell the truth, you could make it all better and stop it before it gets worse.

“Kiyoomi,” you trembled, spinning your wedding ring around your finger. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

The Second Prince shut his eyes. His placid face a contrast to his fists tightening even more. “Don’t,” he said, his voice sounding more resigned. Funny, how he was inches away from you, and he suddenly felt so far away when he opened his eyes – and you couldn’t recognize the man sitting in front of you anymore. “Whatever it is, just don’t.”

[warlocksoup]

haikyuu angstober

day one: miya osamu

all paintings by denis sharazin

soundtrack: taste by the forth wanderers

word count: 1.4k

warnings: jealousy, unrequited feelings, unhappy ending

taglist is open, complete this form to be added

They’re splitting an orange.

Osamu peeled off the skin of it, and pulled it in two, keeping one half for himself and handing the other to her. They’re sitting on the balcony, just the two of them, the living room behind the closed glass door stuffed with strangers and loud music. She sits at the edge, with her knees pressed between the rails, picking away at the pith.

“Just eat it,” Osamu says, chewing the flesh between his teeth as his thumb pulls away another slice. “You’re never gonna get rid of all of that stuff.”

“”S gross,” she grumbles, irritated and concentrated on adding to the small, stringy pile of pith beside her. “Let me do what I need to do, okay?”

Osamu gives a half-hearted grin, one corner of his lip tugging up in slight amusement. “You mad cause Tsumu brought that girl?” he asks, even though he knows better.

She groans, at once abandoning her efforts of picking her orange clean to lean her head back and groan. “God, she’s so annoying. Like, where the fuck is always finding these girls and how can he stand to be around them for thirty seconds straight?”

Osamu pops his last orange slice in his mouth. He’s already done with his half, and she’s not even done peeling.

Her thumb pokes into the flesh of the orange, and Osamu watches as fresh juice stains her jeans. He sighs, and reaches down to grab the orange for her. He studies it in his hands. She really plucked the fuck out of it. Her head leans against the railing, and she watches as he dutifully and skillfully peels away the remaining bits of white.

“She’s not that bad, y’know,” Osamu says, eyes focused on her orange. “You always make them seem worse than they are.”

The little pith pile gets knocked over when she spins around in her seat to give Osamu an unimpressed look. “She sucks, Samu. She’s airheaded and ditsy and there’s nothing of substance underneath the surface.”

She’s not normally like this. Mean, for no reason. Cruel with her words just because she can be. If you really pressed her, and Osamu won’t, she’d relent pretty easily. Admit that maybe there’s nothing wrong with the poor girl, and the real problem is just that she’s a stranger who showed up on Atsumu’s arm.

Osamu can’t really hold it against her. He has the same kind of attitude towards his own brother.

“I’m just saying,” he starts, tone light, “you don’t gotta be so damn mean just cause you’re jealous.”

She scoffs. “Oh, great, now you like her better than me too.”

Osamu clicks his tongue against his cheek. “Hmm, not quite what I said.”

A wistful and overdone sigh falls from her, as she leans back, one hand gripping the railing in front of her and the other placed delicately over her heart. “Defending her character like her knight in shining armor. You love her so bad.”

He chuckles and does not look up at her when he says, “Nah, I don’t like anyone better than you.”

From the corner of his eye, he watches as she straightens out, and leans her forehead against the metal railing in front of her. “Yeah. At least I have you.”

Yeah. At least.

Osamu drags the last bit of pith away from the flesh of the orange and hands it back to her. She takes it, and mumbles a quick thanks.

He watches her take her first bite. He watches her jaw as she chews, and her throat as she swallows. Osamu watches her eat the orange he peeled for her, and he can only think of how achingly in love with her he is. It makes him nauseous. It makes him feel hollow. It makes him want the smell of oranges to linger with him.

Osamu sits there, so in love with her just watching her peel away an orange slice makes him breathless. And she sits there, in love with his brother.

“I guess I don’t have to be so mean. I just, I just don’t get it, y’know?” she says after a long moment of silence, voice thicker now. “I’ve known him for so long and he’s never looked at me like that. I just don’t know what I don’t have that every other girl he brings around does.”

Osamu leans his back against the railing. “I dunno. Maybe he likes that they’re airheaded and ditsy.”

Her silence makes him nervous. He’s worried joking about it was the wrong move.

He reaches out and places a hand on her knee and hopes the contact of his skin is some comfort to her. He hopes she likes the way his hand feels, heavy and warm. He hopes she’s not wishing it was Atsumu’s, instead. “I dunno. I dunno how any of that shit works. I just know that you can’t force yourself to love someone if you don’t, and you can’t force yourself to stop if you do.”

She hums, and her eyes are on the drop from the balcony, watching people pass by on the sidewalk below, watching cars and their lights. Osamu finds himself leaning in closer to her, so his shoulder presses against the side of her knee. He wants to see her face, all of it. To see her eyes as she thinks and watch as her mouth forms words. He wants to see all of her.

“Can I tell you something stupid?” she asks, hushed. Osmau wouldn’t hear it if he weren’t so close.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Of course you can.”

The music from the party behind them gets louder. People are cheering at something. A car horn honks below them. The air still smells of oranges.

“I think, even if it were just for a night, I just wanna feel wanted,” she confesses, so softly the light wind almost blows it away. “I just wanna know what it feels like. I’ve hoped for so long that at this point I think even a taste of it would satisfy me.”

She stares into the night, and he stares at her. And he’s so split between his desire to give her everything she wants and to take her for himself he doesn’t know what he should do or say to make it better-for him or for her. He just looks at her and feels his chest ache.

She shakes her head, and chukcles mirthlessly. “I’m sorry, that’s probably weird for you to hear, he’s your brother-“

“Just pretend,” Osamu cuts her off.

She looks at him. “What?”

He grabs a gentle hold of her arm and pulls her into his chest. She falls in easily, and Osamu wraps both of his arms around her shoulders, tightly, holding her in close. She doesn’t move. “Just pretend,” Osamu repeats again in her ear. “You can just close your eyes, and pretend I’m him, and then you’ll know what it feels like.”

Osamu half expects her to shove him away, to call him a freak and storm off to tell everyone about this weird shit he just pulled. But she doesn’t. Her face is pressed against his chest, and slowly, her arms snake up to wrap around his waist. She loosens up in his hold, and Osamu wonders if she can feel his heartbeat.

He can’t tell if her eyes are closed or not. He likes to think that they’re opened, but Osamu knows better.

His thumb draws circles in the spot between her shoulder blades. She’s soft and warm, and her breathing is steady and rhythmic. Osamu buries his face in the top of her air, and takes in the scent of her shampoo.

In the morning, she will pretend that this did not happen. She will talk about the orange and complain about the girl Atsumu bought and she will apologize for how, after this, she got too drunk and Osamu had to bring her home. She will offer to get him coffee and will hold her fingers to his face and tell him they still smell of oranges.

But she won’t bring up this moment, not ever again.

Osamu thinks he knows this; he thinks about it as he tries to pull her closer into his chest. He thinks he knows this is the only moment he will ever get, so he plays pretend right along with her.

an: some light, gentle angst to get us started. i hope u all enjoy <33 please consider reblogging or sending in an ask if u enjoyed <3

taglist: @hiraethwa @lale-txt @kr1nqu @angee444 @psychedellyc @geektastic84 @solzscribblez @asrinchin @nyxlai

[rintarousgirl]

i wanna be yours - TEASER

✦ - Y/N is a small business owner, offering her services not only as a designer but an at-home makeup artist and cosmetic producer as well. She's perfectly content with her small life when she's approached by the manager of the INARIZAKI band, asking for her to fill the position of backstage artist on short notice. Needing the money, and wanting the experience, Y/N agrees. Little does she know, the fatal attraction she will share with the band's lead, Suna Rintarou.

- some things to know :

this is not a smau au! or well, it is in a way. there will be bits where it is a smau but every chapter has primarily written parts !

there will be nsfw, but not in great detail

the first chapter is aimed to come out this friday & i’ll try for updates every few days!

request to be on the taglist 💋

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