#i miss you tachibana

[ocrukoji]

doodles and sketches because why not

[funny-friends]

hi again trauma team fans

[im-n-your-walls]

The last anon who did the hcs for a scary hq Halloween .. I need to know how the windbreaker boys react !

a/n: ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ list of links 🔗 post mentioned

Matches with you so you can scare the shit out of children

Mitsuki, togeme, choji

pretty bitch and scary bitch

Umemiya, sou, kotoha, hiiragi, sako, taiga, kaji, tsubakino

“I’m dating the right person”

Umemiya, Mitsuki, togeme, choji

shits their pants

Nirei, Sakura, sugishita

👁️👄👁️ ➖👄➖ 👁️👄👁️

kaji, sako, yuto

[animebw]

HEY HAVE SOME FREE SEROTONIN

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

My attempt at making the curse makes sense

+ the time leap powers too because why not

Spoilers up to the final arc of Tokyo Revengers

We’ll discuss three different things. 1) How the curse works, 2) Why Sanzu was affected by it, 3) And why Takemichi succeeded to make it calm down.

Keep in mind that it’s my headcanons and that Wakui could one day give information that ruin everything i wrote. And you can of course have another view on it and/or not like my way of thinking !

Who, What, Where, When and Why

Shinichiro was the cursed one. The homeless man cursed Shinichiro, and it’s never revealed by him how he actually cursed him.

The curse went to Mikey – Why is it ? He’s the reason Shinichiro killed the homeless man. So, three different theories. 1 : it’s because of his death that Shinichiro kills, so without Mikey the curse doesn’t exist, 2 : he’s supposed to be dead but he’s not – a sort of karma ?, 3 : if the curse was meant to hurt Shinichiro, then making Mikey hurt and unable to stop hurting was definitely the way to go.

What’s the curse’s purpose anyway ? Why does it make Mikey act like that ?

The curse feeds on tragedy, the more tragedy, the more it grows, the more it grows, the more hungry it gets, the more it wants tragedy, the more it triggers tragedy. And by feeding on tragedy i mean all the negative feelings that go hand-in-hand with. Sadness, despair, helplessness, rage, regrets, guilt… It clings to someone who already has a tragic life and it worsens it. Mikey didn’t have a father and lost his mother, his life wasn’t all happy from the start ; Sanzu… We don’t know enough about the Akashi but he doesn’t have his mother, his father is always out working and his relationship with Takeomi is so, so bad ; Kazutora – who had never met Shinichiro – was the one to be affected by the curse and not Baji – who knew Shinichiro for a while so the ‘it affected everyone around him’ should’ve worked here – and Baji doesn’t have a typical family life either since he only has his mom, but his relationship with his mom is great, and it’s not the same as what Kazutora has to deal with at home.

And while we cannot say if i’m right ; the fact the curse grew with time is undeniable

What do you mean you were ‘following Mikey as if you were in a trance’

this is why we cant have nice things

So. Sanzu.

It is revealed he only acted that way because he ‘was in a trance’ (→ the curse affected him). Not going to talk about how much it pissed me off when i read that. But why would he be affected by it? Emma wasn’t, Senju wasn’t, Takeomi, Wakasa & Benkei weren’t, grandpa Sano wasn’t, Baji burnt cars and threw punches at anyone who might look at him but that wasn’t the curse (final timeline 7 y/o Baji punching Takemichi) (it could still be, of course, but it doesn’t feel as violent as Mikey and Sanzu have it. Then again, he didn’t live long enough to tell ig), Inui and Draken weren’t either… What does Sanzu has, who is Sanzu for him to be affected by it ? Shinichiro’s trigger. He is tied to the time leap power and to the curse then. He was also the first victim of the curse, when it was still very small, and that might have given him a sort of immunity/protection which caused the curse not to directly harm him anymore. He’s here in Bonten when Mikey drove every other person close to him away. Twelve years, and Mikey didn’t kill him with his dark impulses whereas they appear soon after Takemichi talk to him.

Or it could be Mikey’s seemingly incapacity to harm anyone he knew before being cursed. He wouldn’t hurt Emma, wouldn’t hurt Baji, wouldn’t hurt Shinichiro, didn’t hurt Senju, hurt Sanzu once or twice. So the curse could not affect much/at all people Mikey knew before Shinichiro’s time leap.

Then again, Emma & Baji didn’t remain alive long enough to know if Mikey could’ve/would’ve hurt them.

Or. Sanzu was 'in a trance' because his job is to make the dark impulses grow. After all, he says he had waited for them when they finally show up. Maybe that's how the curse affects him – by forcing him to make Mikey act on them. By forcing him to preserve it. Or maybe it's all that I just wrote. Or maybe it's neither.

Edit:

So. This is the official translation from what I understood.

Which change one thing: it's canon it's not because of the curse (or at least not only) that Sanzu is insane ☺ He just Is.

Takemichi’s power of friendship

Shinichiro dies on the day he let go of the power, on the day he gave it to Takemichi. It is said relatively often that Shinichiro was what held Mikey back from letting go of his dark impulses, hence, Takemichi snapped Mikey back to reality because he is the host of the time leaping power. But Mikey almost killed Takemichi thrice, and that’s when the distinction between him and Shinichiro happens. Mikey himself go to Takemichi to tell him to yell at him if he ever snapped like Shinichiro would have, but Takemichi isn’t Shinichiro – Takemichi isn’t his big brother whom he loves so much and whom loved him so much.

The curse knows it was born out of the time leaping power, that it wouldn’t exist if Shinichiro didn’t kill to gain the power. So when Takemichi stops Mikey from killing Kazutora, it goes away, when Takemichi says they’re friends, it goes away. Sure, it still pushes Mikey to shoot Takemichi, or sending Takemichi to the hospital and then stabbing him with a katana through the heart, but im trying my best to think of a reason that isnt ‘shonen spirit, friendship power or nothing’ at the end, it’s a curse meant to destroy everything Mikey holds dear, to render him incapable to be happy and it can go past the fact it’s its creator it is killing. Plus, Takemichi isn’t its creator, Shinichiro is. Hence, the curse rather not hurt the power that created it, but it isn’t against it, especially if the holder is not its creator. Edit: The curse is what killed Shinichiro at the end, because that’s what it’s job was - yet, it only did on the day he let go of the power, so he couldn’t be protected by it the way Takemichi is at the start of the story. The curse could’ve been confused since Takemichi had the power (and perhaps confused him with its creator) at first and then as the story went on, it realized he wasn’t.

This link between the time leap powers and the curse might also give me a reason why Mikey knew when Takemichi came back in the past. The same way Naoto can feel when Takemichi goes back to the future, chapter 2 : “When I shook hands with you 12 years ago, I could feel you inside past you disappear.”

+ So about the ‘deathlike state’ in chapter 7 and how it never happened again...

The difference between Takemichi going back to the future this time and all the other times that follow is actually pretty simple : it’s his consciousness that goes back to the past, that we all agree of, it’s canon, and that’s it. When Takemichi goes back in the past and changes his past self’s life even so slightly, they don’t end up having the same kind of life or way of thinking.

By that I mean : when Takemichi went back to the past knowingly for the first time (and accidentally came back) he didn’t change anything. He still got his ass beat by Kiyomasa, he may have met Draken and Mikey but that isn’t enough to change his past self’s personality ; they’ll end up sharing the same and if they’re the same then there’s only one Takemichi. Whereas all the other times he went back from that point on, he has changed his past self’s life (fighting Kiyomasa, saving Draken, getting stab in the hand). Which means they won’t have the same life experience, which means they won’t be the same and won’t share their consciousness.

Because among the various things the last arc teaches us, there’s that :

It’s not linear. Takemichi didn’t re-write the timeline. He created new ones. Alternate dimensions exist in TR. If they didn’t, the timeline would stop everytime a time leaper goes back. Just straight up cut reality and existence to replace it with other, either 100 % similar or completely different, stuffs. But Sanzu remembers days after Shinichiro’s death and time leap. Why only days ? What happened then ? I don’t wanna know. But it’s probably the same for Naoto. He remembers more of the other timeline that Takemichi does, because he doesn’t time leap with him – he stays in the dimension/timeline until Takemichi goes to a future he changed/created and then the Naoto from this newly-created future has the memories other-hims have plus his own.

And here for the question we don’t have an answer to… :

Where do the past-self of time leapers go ?

Do they go dormant ? Are they conscious and unable to control their body ? Do they have fuzzy memories of the time they’re not the one inhabiting their body ? Or do they not remember a thing ? Do they only have a vague understanding of time passing by like people in coma do ? If Takemichi and Mikey of the final timeline ever decide to go check on the future and leave their past (7 and 8 years old) self to deal with everything what would happen ? Would these children have grown up ? Or would they still have the same mentality ? How can you react to realizing it’s been years you haven’t been in control of your own body ? Surrounded by people you don’t know. Or maybe you do. But it wasn’t you. And if they never do, if Takemichi and Mikey continue living without bothering about the past and the future, never bothering to use the time leaping powers anymore, what would happen to those 7 and 8 years old them ? The time leaping powers allow you to be a parasite to your own body. It sounds awful.

It’s a bit different with the time triggers, or so i think because it seems awfully similar. The time triggers follow the time leapers which means their main source of memories are from the timeline they initially left, and the other memories from the other timelines become additional. Sanzu is more the Sanzu who lost Mikey than Sanzu who got scarred by him. WHICH. If you compare it to Naoto and Takemichi, makes it so, so interesting (at least for me) because it means, that even though OG timeline!Sanzu and Shinichiro didn’t shake hands, the fact from-OG timeline!Shinichiro shook hands with Sanzu which led to him remembering about the OG timeline, means that Naoto has his memories from when he died with Hinata in the very first timeline.

Time triggers get additional memories ; time leapers keep their own consciousness and don’t merge with their past self.

Which begs the question : what timeline would Mikey remember if him and Takemichi shook hands to go to the future ? Would it be the timeline Takemichi is from (no memories of Takemichi, Draken dying on 8/3, Kazutora and Baji (probably) both dying on Halloween…) or would it be all the timelines Takemichi went through ? Or since he also became a time leaper, he only has Kanto Manji memories ? And we can’t use Naoto or Sanzu as examples, Sanzu only shook Shinichiro’s hand once and Naoto shook Takemichi’s hand since Takemichi started to time leap ; their memories ‘updated’ at the same time, each time (final timeline aside, of course). So… So we don’t know. But Mikey’s core memories would be of Kanto Manji, and the other timelines would be additional. (or would his core memories be of Bonten ? That’s the first timeline he shook Takemichi’s hand in and the first timeline he acted as a time trigger. Idk man, it’s all so complicated and (purposely) unclear)

And it all comes to the same thing once again : Is it better if Mikey doesn’t remember those timelines (because a Mikey who has memories from : Kanto Manji, Bonten, Manila, and all the Bad Toman ones is not going to be a very stable Mikey. Not that he is with his Kanto Manji memories but stil.) or should Takemichi carry the role of the only one to remember ?

[starocide]

Happy birthday Kanon !!!!!!

[bugprinz]

what the scallop....

[reicchel]

Really old drawing, but i dedicate this to @themistymermaid for her birthday and her love for this ship 💕

[xiao-lantern]

when you wanna be a sakyo yume so badly but you’re a sakyoizu shipper and even though izumi is the MC/player, she has so much personality that to you (me) she’s her own character. therefore you can’t make a new yume bc sakyo’s true love to you is izumi who is irreplaceable <3

they’re so in love, your honour. she was literally his first love from childhood and he’s loved her ever since my gods

[wlwcatalogue]

Some WLW (?) Jdrama & Kdrama recommendations!

Jdramas and Kdramas have a (not-entirely-unearned) reputation for being very straight, but here are a few which are either canonically F/F or which prominently feature a female-female pair-- please enjoy! For those who enjoy following series in real time, Chaser Game W and She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat S2 are both airing this January 2024 :)

As with my post on anime with yuri subtext, since subtext is so subjective, this list only includes series which I’ve actually watched, and so is by no means intended to be comprehensive. Also, it doesn't include any webseries, since those probably deserve a post of their own.

At-a-glance list:

Miss Sherlock (8 episodes, 2018) (subtext)

Night Light (20 episodes, 2016) (subtext)

Tokusatsu Gagaga (7 episodes, 2019) (subtext)

Painter of the Wind (20 episodes, 2008) (canon?)

She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat (10 15-minute episodes and counting, 2022~) (canon)

Sono Toki, Heart wa Nusumareta (5 episodes, 1992) (canon)

Chaser Game W (10? 30-minute episodes, 2024) (canon)

Doctor X (7 seasons and counting, 2012~) (subtext)

Bonus: SKY Castle (20 episodes, 2018) (subtext)

Summaries under the cut!

1. Miss Sherlock / ミス・シャーロック (8 episodes, 2018) (subtext) – MyDramaList | AsianWiki

The elevator pitch for this show is simple: it’s Sherlock Holmes, but where Holmes and Watson – here named “Sherlock” and Tachibana Wato, and played by Takeuchi Yuko and Kanjiya Shihori, respectively – are both female, and the cases are all set in modern Tokyo. As with other adaptations, mystery-solving and the budding relationship between the two leads takes centre stage, but Miss Sherlock manages to carve out an identity all its own.

There’s a calm beauty to its visuals, which favour sunlight and urban greenery, and the show’s focus on former doctor Wato as she tries out new jobs and goes to therapy means that there’s a surprisingly high number of slice-of-life scenes. It’s also subtly more female-focused than the source material; Sherlock’s gossipy but good-natured landlady Ms. Hatano (Ito Ran) is as much a member of the household as Sherlock and Wato, and the cases often revolve around female characters. But more than anything, it’s just really fun to watch Sherlock and Wato’s relationship bloom as they snip and snipe and are utterly unable to stay out of each other’s space (literally – the body language and blocking is *chef’s kiss*). Their relationship is the heart of the show – watch this one until the end, you won’t regret it!

(CW: psychological abuse, manipulation, and genre-typical murder, violence, and gore)

2. Night Light / 불야성 (20 episodes, 2016) (subtext) - MyDramaList | AsianWiki

(Note: spoilers for the mid-season twist, but it’s impossible to allude to a good portion of the F/F subtext without doing so, and I think knowing the twist ahead of time doesn’t make it any less enjoyable.)

Night Light is a rather odd show. It’s simple enough on the face of it, a story about  successful but ruthless CEO Seo Yi-kyung (an icy Lee Yo-won) who tries to mold the younger Lee Se-jin (a puppy-eyed Uee) in her own ambitious image, only for her protege to develop the conscience she never had and move to stop her dastardly plans… but upon watching it’s a totally different creature,  thanks to the alchemic reactions of some delightfully contradictory acting choices (Uee’s performance convinces viewers less of Se-jin’s supposed latent desire for power and money, and more of a deep love and devotion for the CEO) and the unintentionally (?) inneundo-laden script (“If I like something once, I never forget it– whether it’s a dress… or a person,” declares the CEO less than ten minutes into the first episode while gazing intently at Se-jin).

Honestly, it’s a wonder this series ever got made, but you certainly won’t see me complaining! The first part is full of boss/subordinate goodness; Se-jin is unable to resist the CEO’s magnetic pull despite her hot-and-cold behaviour, while the CEO cannot bring herself to push Se-jin away completely. And then, when Se-jin makes her mind up to stop the CEO, it morphs into a corporate take on a (subtextual) lovers-on-opposite-sides situation, where it is precisely Se-jin’s feelings for the CEO that motivate her to stop her. In short, it’s a workplace GL fan’s dream.

Note: If you do watch it, skip the corporate politicking cutscenes with the old men, you’ll thank me later. Also, there’s a prominent male character who is the CEO’s ex and who works closely with Se-jin in the second half, but don’t worry, all the M/F romance is in the past (and doesn’t get much screentime)– he and Se-jin aren’t interested in each other at all.

3. Tokusatsu Gagaga / トクサツガガガ (7 episodes, 2019) (subtext) - MyDramaList | AsianWiki

Nakamura Kano (Koshiba Fuka) lives and breathes tokusatsu shows (think Power Rangers, if you’re not familiar), but keeps it a secret from her work colleagues to avoid being shunned or laughed at. And yet she yearns for connection, so when she sees a woman on the subway bearing a keychain from her favourite show (Yoshida Hisami, played by Kurashina Kana), she is determined to find her again.

Although ostensibly about being a tokusatsu fan as an adult, this show is rife with queer subtext, and not in the usual way. It deals with the difficulties of staying in the closet (regarding being an adult tokusatsu fan), the desire to connect with other queer people adult tokusatsu fans and how one might do so through hints and signals, parental disapproval arising from gendered and social expectations (that tokusatsu shows are for boys, and magical girl shows for girls), intersectionality and finding comradeship with other minorities people who are excluded due to their interests, and even generational gaps wherein younger queers fans may underestimate the obstacles that still exist. Although all that might sound a bit stressful, it isn’t actually! Difficult incidents are handled with sympathy and a dash of wry humour, and the show never loses sight of the fact that it – above all else – is a story about finding queer community in the face of a heteronormative hostile world, told with warmth and the nuance of lived experience.

4. Painter of the Wind / 바람의 화원 (20 episodes, 2008) (canon?) - MyDramaList | AsianWiki

Adapting the novel of the same name by Lee Jung-myung, Painter of the Wind takes as its protagonist a gender-bent version of real-life Joseon-era painter Shin Yun-bok (Moon Geun-young), whose paintings are used to weave a tale of artistry, political intrigue, and romance, and more than anything else to offer modern-day viewers a glimpse of everyday life in 18th-century Korea.

While it may sound like Dickinson’s boring cousin, apart from having a common preoccupation with reframing historical works, another similarity the two shows share is that Painter of the Wind is also very gay. Starting from the first episode, Yun-bok meets and becomes fascinated by the courtesan Jung-hyang (Moon Chae-won), who despite her initial aloofness is drawn to Yun-bok’s intellect and sensitive demeanour. It’s a real meeting of the minds, their witty repartee in early episodes reminiscent of Twelfth Night’s Viola and Olivia, and their relationship isn’t siloed off from the main plot either: Yun-bok’s infatuation quickly starts causing issues with her academic career, and the two eventually have to contend with Jung-hyang’s precarious position as a courtesan as well.

Unfortunately, all this is undermined in the back half of the show, which tries to gaslight viewers into thinking that Yun-bok’s feelings for Jung-hyang were purely platonic all along and that she totally has romantic feelings for her much older male mentor— but hey, at least it’s an open ending. Despite everything, though, I can’t think of another serious historical TV show which features such a prominent F/F narrative for its main character, even nearly two decades later. (Let me know if you have any others! And no, Gentleman Jack doesn’t count, it’s not exactly traditional in style!)

(CW: period-typical sexism)

5. She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat / 作りたい女と食べたい女 (10 15-minute episodes and counting, 2022~) (canon) - MyDramaList

Based on Yuzaki Sakaomi’s manga of the same name, this simple but sweet show follows home-cooking extraordinaire Nomoto Yuki (Higa Manami), who yearns to cook large-scale dishes but doesn’t eat enough to justify making them. Luckily for her, her neighbour Kasuga Totoko (Nishino Emi) has a massive appetite!

It’s always lovely to see more grounded stories about working women, especially when they’re as cute as this one. Though it touches upon some slightly more serious issues, such as with regard to gendered expectations surrounding food and cooking, it’s primarily a feel-good slice-of-life show about two women getting to know each other by cooking and eating delicious food together.

Side note: if you’ve started it and think the show doesn’t look cosy enough, stick it out for a few more episodes, the production values improve after the first part! Also, the series was renewed for a second season with double the episode count (for a total of 20 episodes) which will start airing on January 29th this year, so this is the perfect time to jump in!

6. Sono Toki, Heart wa Nusumareta / その時、ハートは盗まれた (5 episodes, 1992) (canon) - MyDramaList

Sono Heart, as it’s nicknamed, starts off as a typical heteronormative high school romance: bumbling protagonist Shiina Hiroko (Isshiki Sae) is desperate to get closer to her crush Katase Masato (Kimura Takuya), star of the school basketball team and all-round nice dude. However, a spanner in the works comes slouching along in the form of female classmate Aso Saki (Uchida Yuki, in her debut role), a mischievous, short-haired personification of trouble who Katase turns out to have feelings for. One day, Hiroko gets into a fight with Saki, and they end up having to stay together after school as punishment. But that afternoon gives them the opportunity to bond over a heart-to-heart conversation, and things seem to improve… until, just before leaving, Saki kisses Hiroko. And then everything changes.

Or rather, everything changes eventually. What’s great about this show is that it doesn’t take shortcuts: Hiroko doesn’t instantly fall in love with Saki. Instead, what you get is a surprisingly layered portrait of a high school girl whose coming to terms with queerness is merely a natural extension of reckoning with her burgeoning sexuality. And, because Saki is self-destructive in her depression and makes a game of belittling, worrying, and infuriating anyone who cares about her, it’s really a story about what it means to love another person rather than a romantic ideal. A word of warning, though: Katase is actually quite a large character, as he and Hiroko end up becoming friends. Also, the ending is very abrupt and inconclusive, though rest assured that it doesn’t try to roll back Hiroko’s feelings, or pair either girl off with a guy.

(CW: self-harm, attempted suicide, bullying, homophobia, underage drinking)

7. Chaser Game W: Power Harassment Boss Is My Ex-Girlfriend / チェイサーゲームW: パワハラ上司は私の元カノ (10? 30-minute episodes, 2024) (canon) - MyDramaList | AsianWiki

Probably jumping the gun here as only two episodes have aired as of writing, but I feel honour-bound to recommend this as it’d probably appeal to a lot of people, if only they knew about it! Chaser Game W is a standalone spin-off of Chaser Game, itself an adaptation of a manga of the same name by Matsuyama Hiroshi and Matsushima Yukitarou, but you don’t need to know anything going in.

Protagonist Harumoto Itsuki (former Keyakizaka46 captain Sugai Yuuka) has been assigned a new job: her company has been asked by a Chinese conglomerate to develop a game adaptation of a GL manhua, and she’s been tapped as the project leader. However, what appears to be an exciting prospect soon becomes a terrifying one, as the person sent by the client to supervise turns out to be her ex-girlfriend from university (Lin Dongyu, played by Japanese actress Nakamura Yurika), who is now married to a Chinese man (played by a Japanese actor) and has a child, but remains hell-bent on exacting revenge on Itsuki for their bad breakup. This is a romantic (melo)drama rather than a psychological thriller, though, so you won’t be watching Itsuki getting terrorised the entire time. While she is understandably upset by her ex’s current behaviour, Itsuki can’t forget about their happy days together, and Dongyu herself veers between being a sneering bully and craving Itsuki’s affection.

Do note that the show isn’t without its flaws: it’s very Japanese about the Chinese thing, which is to say it’s filled with comments which range from somewhat offensive to borderline racist, and the script will probably give you a headache if you know even the slightest thing about game development. Your mileage might vary on the ex too, as she can be really quite nasty to Itsuki and her teammates. But if you can overlook those issues, this is a rare prize indeed: a TV drama focusing on a canonical F/F pair, who are specifically exes, and in a workplace setting.

(CW: bullying)

8. Doctor X / ドクターX (7 seasons and counting, 2012~) (subtext) - MyDramaList | AsianWiki

To be very honest, I was in two minds about including Doctor X on this list. It is, with a few notable exceptions, misogynistic and reductive in its depictions of women (especially in the first two seasons), gives too much screentime to objectively awful and subjectively annoying men, doesn’t respect the work done by medical personnel apart from surgeons, and on the technical front is formulaic, repetitive, and often lazy in its writing and presentation. Unfortunately, the dynamic between the genius surgeon protagonist Daimon Michiko (Yonekura Ryoko) and her anaesthesiologist wife partner friend Jounouchi Hiromi (Uchida Yuki) is almost unparalleled in its excellence.

The premise of the series is basic indeed: Daimon Michiko is a freelance surgeon with a healthy disrespect of rules and authority and, unluckily for her detractors, a cast-iron guarantee that she will succeed in any surgery, no matter how difficult. She’s initially portrayed as a lone wolf who’s dismissive of the entire hospital system and anyone who’s part of it— but her interest is piqued by the anaesthesiologist Jounouchi, who is skilled beyond her peers and chafes against the idiocy of her colleagues. For all its flaws, the first season – which is more serious and edgy in tone compared to the others, and isn’t an ensemble cast like the post-S3 seasons – is a fantastic depiction of two people being perfectly matched in skill, intellect, and outlook, and how they come together despite one being standoffish (Jounouchi) and the other not being used to reaching out to or even respecting other people (Daimon).

The seasons after that sadly ditch the emphasis on Jounouchi being Daimon’s professional equal, but in exchange offer up another rare and unexpected gift: two women in their late thirties / early forties who are partners both at work and in private. Jounouchi is Daimon’s designated anaesthesiologist, assisting with nearly every surgery, and she spends so much time at Daimon’s agency-office-slash-house you’d think she’d moved in. Also, after a point they just start being wonderfully dorky and comfortable with each other, while still being consummate professionals in the operating theatre. Although the show is very much focused on Daimon Michiko as its sole protagonist, Jounouchi is undoubtedly the character most significant to her – even more than Daimon’s father figure, the head of the freelance agency – and this is highlighted in the story from time to time. They are very, very good. I just wish the series was better.

Note: If you’re curious, I would recommend watching the very first episode in full– by the end you should know if you’re invested enough to continue, otherwise drop it and live in the happy knowledge that you dodged a bullet. If you aren’t so lucky, I’d advise skipping the surgery segments when they start to bore, and in general to skip liberally. Also, season 4 is not worth watching as a whole, except for the last two episodes, which absolutely should not be missed. Sigh. I can’t speak to seasons 6 and 7, due to having paused mid-S6.

Side note: If you’ve watched Doctor X already and liked it (or at least like Daimon and Jounouchi), but haven’t tried Miss Sherlock yet, definitely give that a go because there seems to be a big overlap in the fandoms. Maybe it’s because they both feature a genius protagonist, have the two largest female characters being work partners, and domestic vibes…?

(CW: sexism, genre-typical gore)

Bonus: SKY Castle / SKY 캐슬 (20 episodes, 2018) (subtext) - MyDramaList | AsianWiki

(Note: slight spoilers for the early episodes, but it’s necessary in order to give a more accurate recommendation regarding the F/F subtext, especially as the show is not primarily focused on any one relationship.)

This one’s a bonus because unlike the others on this list, there’s no close relationship between two female characters which could be interpreted in a romantic light. That’s not too surprising as the show is all about the women of a several super-wealthy families trying to get their children into the top Korean universities (equivalent to the Ivy League) whilst supporting their husbands in the rat race: a decidedly heteronormative premise, albeit one that’s executed in an award-winning manner.

So why am I listing it? Well, it’s because somehow, in this series about heteronormative and highly gendered nuclear families, it features possibly the most erotically-charged dynamic I have seen, even taking season 1 of Killing Eve into account. (Though it takes some time to get there, so if you try it out, please watch at least the first four episodes before making a decision!)

That honour goes to the problematic gem that is the relationship between the main character Han Seo-jin (Yum Jung-ah), who is willing to do whatever it takes to get her daughter into Seoul’s top medical school, and star tutor Kim Joo-young (Kim Seo-hyung), who is known for her 100% success rate. It starts off with a mild push-and-pull, when Han Seo-jin wants Coach Kim to take on her daughter, but is wary of the shady rumours surrounding her; the tutor stands firm, and Han eventually has to swallow her pride and accept the risks. Where it really comes into its own, though, is when Coach Kim starts to pose a legitimate threat to everything Han cares for: her daughter, her marriage (or rather, what her husband can give her), her position in the world. It becomes increasingly clear that Han should just walk away, and indeed she tries to do so many a time, only to bend in the end because the coach is key to fulfilling her dearest wish– and so to Han, for all she rages and resents and fears, Coach Kim is nothing less than temptation itself. This is the beating core of the show, and even as the plotting disintegrates and falls into melodrama in the second half, their scenes together still crackle with delicious tension every time. Watch it.

(CW: suicide, psychological abuse, child abuse, bullying, murder)

[suosgirl]

Keeping It Cute (& Dangerous) - Hayato Suo x Reader | Ch. 4

Word Count: 4970

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nirei, Taiga Tsugeura, Mitsuki Kiryu, Hajime Umemiya, Kotoha Tachibana

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers (?), ooc (?), loss of loved one, slowburn, teasing, misunderstandings, fighting, grief, swearing, ptsd, 2 stubborn idiots falling for each other – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: Long ass chapter. Why? Because I'm a sucker for relationship development – that's all! (๑>؂•̀๑)

୨ৎ Keeping it Cute (& Dangerous) Masterlist

“If I could describe you in one word, Suo, I’d say that you’re –” “Intelligent? Patient? Cheeky?” “Insufferable.” He laughs lightly at your words as if you hadn’t just offended him, before gazing down at you with a look that screams mischief and something else that you can’t quite place yet.

It’s funny – before all of this, you didn’t think life could go any other way for you but the path you’d chosen. 

You were fine with being alone. If it guarantees the safety of your hometown, then so be it. If your brother could make sacrifices, then so could you.

And you did. 

Leaving wasn’t supposed to be easy, that much you knew. Walking away from the town meant you were leaving the memories you’d made there and the people that you’d grown to love. 

Was it lonely at first? Of course. But as with everything in life, it just took time for this to become your new normal. You knew what you had signed up for when you left – so were you really that shocked that you began missing the presence of others or the feeling of being needed?

Everything was fine – at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But, being here, in Makochi – you didn’t think you’d ever experience those feelings again.

That feeling of being wanted, needed, and loved.

And suddenly – you weren’t so alone anymore.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It didn’t take much longer for the other boys to finally find where you and Suo were.

They came running in a frenzy, eyes wide and out of breath, and you couldn’t help the small chuckle that left your lips at the sight.

Did they really care that much? They didn’t even know you. But … they wanted to, and that meant more to you than you’d like to admit.

… It was getting harder to ignore the budding warmth in your chest and the crinkle in your eyes.

Whether it was due to Suo’s words or the overwhelming feeling of being, for the first time in what felt like forever, seen and understood – you allowed yourself, just this once, to hope again. 

Fine. If they wanted to, you’d let them. You’d take Suo’s words for face value, and meet them first with your head held up high, like a tiger would. Were you afraid? Absolutely. But – you were hopeful, and that made all the difference.

They stare at you, their faces expecting the worst, and you pity them just a bit. It wouldn’t do them any good to worry – and you were every bit gracious and kind, so you throw them a bone.

You were, after all, weak to dreamy guys.

“Alright,” you let out a deep sigh, “Who wants my number?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It starts with a simple invitation through text. 

Nirei messages you first, inviting you to meet him at a place called Café Pothos, and you genuinely consider saying no and that you’re busy – but then, you remember the puppy dog eyes that he has so diligently mastered, and you just can’t find it in your heart to say no to a face like that. 

(Unbeknownst to you, he’s quick to catch on. This would become your downfall.)

When you arrive, you recognize it as the place that they had brought you to before. Back then, you’d been in a much more hectic headspace, so you hadn’t taken the time to appreciate all the little details about it. Now, though, you were able to admire the flourishing plants all over the café and the aroma of coffee in the air. 

Upon entering, you see a girl behind the counter, and you’re quick to take a sharp inhale because – she’s pretty.

You weren’t sure what the people in Makochi ate, but it was terribly unfair that everyone here happened to be blessed with the most spectacular genes that you’ve ever witnessed in your life.

It was, quite honestly, so fucked up.

As you glance around the café, you notice that you’re the only one here – and that she’s staring at you with a good-natured grin on her face.

She’s warm and inviting as she beckons you over, asking what you’d like and if you’re from out of town.

(You make a mental note to gain some sort of backbone against attractive people.)

You easily fall into a conversation with her as she prepares a cup of coffee for you, and you learn that her name is Kotoha and that she’s over at the café more often than not. 

“You could easily be a model, you know,” you tell her earnestly, and she blushes as she waves off your comment.

Once you introduce yourself, her face lights up with recognition – and now, it was your turn to blush.

“Oh! That’s you! I’ve heard about you! In fact, they haven’t stopped talking about you –”

You should’ve expected this, really – but you didn’t. It had been so long since you were on the receiving end of showered praise like this, and you’d already gotten your fill a couple days prior. So, to say that this was overwhelming was an understatement.

“...And,” she continues with a wink, “You’re as pretty as they said you were.”

Your fingers shoot up to cover your lips – partly in shock but mostly in disbelief because you can’t wrap your head around the fact that they’ve been telling people that and – 

“Oh! What’s got you looking so red, bunny?”

…

You weren’t sure if you were going to make it long enough for Nirei to arrive.

Actually, you weren’t sure if you were going to make it long enough in this town.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

To your relief, Nirei comes soon after, and you’re saved from the onslaught of the two biggest instigators that you’ve ever met.

The minute he walks in, you’re immediately jumping out of your seat to greet him, and he matches your energy in a heartbeat. He’s greeting you just as enthusiastically, though you don’t have it in you to explain why you’re so happy to see him. And – you notice that he’s tacked on “-san” to the end of your name.

(If you squint, you can almost make out the furious wagging of a tail.)

The eyes of Suo and Kotoha glinting with sadistic delight behind you only serve as a reminder of the hell that you had once endured, and you silently thank whatever higher power is out there that Nirei has the heart of an angel.

“Thank you for meeting me here! I meant to ask you this when we first met, but you just kept running away!”

On second thought, you’re not so sure now about that last tidbit. 

He begins bombarding you with questions, from your height, to your blood type, to what you look for in a partner, and you briefly wonder if the town of Makochi is hell personified.

“How about we sit down first, Nirei? At, uh – the table right over there in the corner.”

Nirei nods, and you’re so glad that he’s at least a good listener – until he spots Kotoha and Suo.

In the same fashion that a puppy would, he instantly goes over to greet them, takes a seat, looks at you, then pulls out the seat next to him – and pats it with his hand. 

“I –”, you stumble over your words, shaking your head at him. 

Oh god, were you the puppy?

… No. You were NOT a puppy (or a bunny).

You would stand your ground, and give him an ultimatum. That’s what you would do.

But then he starts giving you the eyes, the puppy dog eyes, and you feel yourself start to waver — but you must persist. 

When faced with a challenge, when standing in the path of uncertainty, you must prevail and —

Kotoha and Suo join in, though their eyes don’t quite hit that same twinkle of desperation that Nirei’s does.

Still — you admit defeat.

You sigh before slowly trudging over to the chair that had been so kindly pulled out for you. You really had to pull yourself together. 

Tomorrow, you tell yourself. Tomorrow. I’ll have a backbone by tomorrow.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You do not, in fact, build a backbone.

At this point, you’re not even sure you know what a backbone even is anymore.

What you do know, though, is that – 

Muscle Power is one of Tsugeura’s favorite food joints in Makochi. You personally really like their banana pound cake – and he knows this. So, whenever he’s in the mood to go when everyone else conveniently can’t – he knows that he can always count on you to keep him company. 

You also find out that he’s really into wrestling, though you’re not so sure if this was much of a secret in the first place. It had all happened so casually too, and honestly, you hadn’t even noticed when you chimed into the conversation. 

The 6 of you were sat at the café, though you were sat at a table separate from theirs as you calculate your budget for the month. You thought it’d be a peaceful experience, just you in a corner and Kotoha behind the counter, but once one of them starts filing in, they all file in.

You try to block them out as best you can as you do calculation after calculation, but you were never that good at multitasking. As your concentration shifts to focus on the numbers in your notebook, you subconsciously start picking up on their conversation. 

You hear Tsugeura go on a tangent about BxB Hulk, a wrestler that both you and your brother had really admired, but he seems stuck as he tries to remember the year he made his debut.

“...2005,” you say absentmindedly, deep in thought as you stare at your notebook, “... with the Dragon Gate Dojo.”

You go to circle something, but Tsugeura’s gasp of shock makes you jump instead. You go to give him an accusatory look, but they’re all looking at you in a similar fashion. 

You blink at their reactions before tilting your head, “What?... I’m not wrong, am I?”

You had no idea that those words would give you a permanent spot as Tsugeura’s #1 person to talk about wrestling with – and you’d never admit this but – you were just as passionate about it as he was.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You learn that Kiryu is stupidly good at crane games – though, you’ve been able to win a couple stuffed animals for him too so you’d say it’s even. He also teaches you some of his favorite hairstyles, and you do, in fact, confirm that his hair smells as good as it looks. 

When you find out about his older sister, everything suddenly clicks for you, and you understand now why you’re so comfortable around him and why he’s so good at being able to pick up on even the smallest changes in you.

Whenever your time of the month came, he’d seem to always be stocked up with chocolate, an extra pad or two, and ibuprofen. If you did something new with your makeup, like a new lip color or a different pair of lashes, it’d be the first thing that he comments on when he sees you. And – he always checks in on you. If it’s been a couple of days since you’d last seen them, he’s sending you a quick text asking if you’ve eaten or inviting you to a casual hangout. 

There seems to be no end to his thoughtfulness, and it’s something that you learn to appreciate very deeply. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Sakura, despite the attitude he portrays and the things he may say, is a huge softie (you belatedly find out that the pink, sometimes red, on his face that blooms at the most random of times is in fact not a skin condition but indeed his blush).

And, you’re glad to learn that he’s as strong as he says he is.

It begins with a petty argument – something about vegetables and how he doesn’t eat them – but you’re both so stubborn that your harmless comment eventually turns into an all out confrontation. And, when he asks if you want to take it outside – you say yes.

You admit that you were worried that he’d be the type to pull back his punches in a fight because you’re you, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he, instead, runs towards you with all the strength of a bulldozer.

As you dodge and evade his moves, you realize how talented he truly is. You had a feeling, of course, but to see in action the way that he has total control of his body is a different beast altogether. 

When you get in close to try and land a kick to his head, you see a smile on his face as he blocks it with his arms. But his smile isn’t condescending or mocking. No, this is a smile that shows that he’s having fun, that he finds you worthy – and you don’t try to stop the smile that’s growing on your face either.

He really reminded you of your brother.

Your sparring only lasts for a couple of minutes before Nirei pulls out those damned puppy dog eyes, but it's enough for you both to find newfound respect in one another. 

And, as he goes to fix his jacket, he mutters a quiet, “I took that seriously, y’know.”

You grin, a radiant laugh bursting from your lips as you look up at him and say, “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

To your surprise, Nirei has a sharp memory and an even sharper tongue.

You’ve tried to lie your way out of several hangouts – he always calls you out with no remorse.

(“Ah, man, I’d love to, truly, but I forgot that my laundry is out drying so I really should –”

“You said you folded your clothes yesterday, remember?”)

But as much as you hated it, you couldn’t help but also appreciate the way that he genuinely cared for his friends with his heart on his sleeve. He was earnest, loyal, and caring – everything that you’d soon come to admire about him.

And, when he finds out that you enjoy going to secondhand stores too? Oh, he blows up your phone at least 3 times a month asking if you’d like to join him on yet another “hunt”. This, though, was a hangout that you’d never say no to. It was always so fun getting to dig around together to see what you could find (your brother was never one for shopping), and you enjoyed this time because you got to know even more about the other boys through Nirei, who spoke about them with shining eyes and pride in his voice. 

He really was an amazing storyteller – and an even better friend.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Kotoha is as honest as she is loving – and you’re so grateful to have grown so close to her within such a short time. After your initial meeting, you find yourself hanging out at Café Pothos way more often than you’d like to admit, and you come to admire how diligent, hardworking, and compassionate she is. 

Your friendship with her blossoms naturally, and at some point she begins to join you and Nirei on your little thrifting trips. She becomes someone that you feel comfortable with confiding in, and you’re delighted to find out that it goes both ways. 

And aside from all of this – she also manages to help you get a job at Café Pothos alongside her.

When you’d mindlessly mentioned once that you were running short on your funds from your last job (as a result of all the hangouts that you were, regretfully, indulging in), Kotoha was the one who offered to see if there was an opening available at the café. When you came in on your first day for training – she was the one showing you the ropes and guiding you with her hands.

And, when you finally met her brother, well – 

The first time you meet Umemiya, you (understandably) burst into tears, and he (understandably) freaks the fuck out.

Nirei, with your tearful eyes and a nod of approval, clues him in on your backstory.

By the end of it, you’ve managed to slow down the crying to only a few tears, a fond look on your face as you listen to Nirei speak.

You open your mouth, ready to apologize but Umemiya beats you to it.

He has a hand gently patting the top of your head, and a smile on his face.

But that smile – it says so many things all at once.

So many things that you haven’t felt in so long.

“He would be proud of who you’ve become.” 

And, for the first time since his death, you finally let your body relax.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

But Suo, despite all of this, remains ever mysterious and tight-lipped.

You still don’t know too much about him, and you’re not privy to prying for information either (though you admit that you’ve asked Nirei about him once or twice). What you are able to gather, however, is that Suo is a huge pain in your ass. The teasing never ends, he always has his eye on you at all times, and – 

At first, you think he’s just being nice.

A warm hand on your lower back guiding you through the bustling crowd of the town. 

A sweet smile on his face whenever he greets you or catches sight of your familiar head of hair.

A passing remark about how pretty your eyes look that day.

But then – 

You notice his hands linger just a bit longer than normal, and they’re starting to gravitate just a little bit lower or just a bit higher, until the resting of his hand on your waist or your hips becomes a new normal.

His smile, you realize, is much more than just sweet. Sometimes, you’ll catch a hint of endearment or amusement, as if he’s in on a joke that you know nothing about.

And the remarks? They progress from just being about your eyes to your hairstyle that day, or your outfit, or your smile, or your laugh.

But it doesn’t just stop there – it seems that, if you’re not working, he’s got to be touching you at all times. Your legs pressed firmly together whenever you sat next to each other. His hands wrapped around your waist when he moves around you. Your arms always touching when you’re standing beside each other. 

And any chance he gets, he’s whispering in your ear. It could be anything, from explaining something that gets brought up when you’re with the group, to casually talking about the weather.

But sometimes, with his lips so close to your ear that you can feel the warm puffs of his breath, he’ll lower his voice just the littlest bit, make his words sound the tiniest bit breathless and then – 

He pulls away, with that stupid little smile on his face and mirth in his eyes.

Everytime, everytime he does it, you’re left flustered and alone, with a hand held up to your ear as if to hold on just a little bit longer to the sensation, to the feeling of his lips so close to you.

And he never ever calls you your name. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard it leave his lips – at least not when he’s around you. 

“Wow bunny, you’re so strong!”

“Bunny, play nice –”

“Oh bunny, you’re here!”

All the “bunny” this and “bunny” that messes with your head. So much so that Suo could say it in a crowded room and you’re already turning your attention to him to see what he wants.

(And if you were to think about it a while longer, you’d realize that no one else uses that affectionate name on you. You’d realize that people have tried, but when they look up, Suo’s already got an eye on them and a tight-lipped smile on his face – and it sends shivers down their spine. Not like you’d recognize that they’re calling you though, your ears only attuned to the way that Suo calls it out.)

Working at the café doesn’t help.

From the moment you clock in to the moment you clock out, you can expect Suo to pop in at least once during your shift – twice if he comes early in the day to have a cup of tea with Sakura and Nirei.

And everytime, everytime you clock out – he’s patiently waiting to walk you home.

It starts on your first day – and you were not prepared for the sight of him, in all his lovely glory, to be standing outside with a smile on his face as you locked up the doors. It was such a shock that you’d dropped the keys in panic, and he quickly bent down to grab them before handing it to you.

When he grabs your hand and gently drops the keys in your palm, you don’t miss the way his thumb caresses yours.

His hands were so damn warm – and soft.

“I – what are you doing here?”

“Is it a crime to escort you home?”

Your lips part in surprise, and you can feel the way your breathing is starting to quicken in response.

“No, uh … it’s not. But –”

He laughs, and you notice that he’s still holding your hand in his.

You don’t make a move to remove it.

“Everyone’s been hanging out with you. I just wanted some time for myself, that’s all.”

His words catch you off guard, and he takes that silence as an invitation to continue.

“Besides – I’m the one who convinced you to stay. Shouldn’t I be able to spend time with you as well?”

You … don’t have a good enough reason to say no.

So, you let it happen.

During the walk, you talk about all the mundane things, from how your day went to what you had for lunch.

And, if your shoulders occasionally bump into one another or your fingers accidentally brush, well –

Neither of you mention it.

When you finally make it to your apartment, he follows you right up to the door. You feel his looming presence behind you, and the warmth emanating from his body, and it takes everything in your power not to drop your keys again.

And, once your door finally unlocks, you feel a shift behind you.

Suddenly, his hands are on either side of the doorframe, caging you in, and your back is pressed flush against his chest.

And goodness did his chest feel strong.

He’s so so close that you can hear his lips part and his soft inhale as he whispers coyly into your ear, “Sweet dreams, bunny.”

Before you can react, he’s already taken a step back with his hand waving goodbye and an innocent smile on his face.

You think about it for the rest of the night.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It goes on like this for months, and you’re not sure what sick and twisted game he’s playing at, but he never explains his behavior, never confesses his feelings, never addresses the elephant in the room.

And you – well, you’re not sure how to even bring it up.

It’s not that you’re mad about it (quite the opposite), but every touch, every whisper, every smile leaves you wanting more.

But you weren’t sure if you could handle more. Not if it was going to be like this. Your poor heart wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Suo had started a craving that you weren’t sure could ever be satisfied, but no matter how much you tried to ward him off, he remained persistent and stubborn.

“You really don’t have to do this, Suo — though I appreciate the gesture,” you remark, your head tilted up to gauge his reaction as he walks in stride with you.

“But I enjoy doing it, so what’s the issue?”

“The issue, Suo, is that I’m perfectly capable of walking home alone. Shouldn’t you be – oh, I don’t know – spending your time with people who might actually need help?”

He takes a moment to think about this – at least, he acts like he does. But, you know better. You’re starting to be able to differentiate when he’s being sarcastic and when he’s not, and right now, as he brings his finger up to tap “thoughtfully” on his chin, you can’t help but feel the urge to humble him just the tiniest bit.

So you do.

“If I could describe you in one word, Suo, I’d say that you’re –”

“Intelligent? Patient? Cheeky?”

“Insufferable.”

He laughs lightly at your words as if you hadn’t just offended him, before gazing down at you with a look that screams mischief and something else that you can’t quite place yet.

And, with an air of casualty, as if you’d both just been talking about the different blends of tea, he responds with – 

“If you find me insufferable now, I can’t imagine how you would describe me as your lover.”

…

You come to a stop, your eyes blinking rapidly as you try to take in what he’s said but he cuts off your train of thought.

“Looks like you’re home now, my little bunny. This was pleasant, as always.”

Looking around, you deflate at the fact that he was right, you’d stopped right in front of your door, but you needed answers – now.

You go to open your mouth, but he’s quicker – “Oh, sorry, but I really can’t stay and chat. I’ve got to, oh, I don’t know, see if anyone needs my assistance.”

That … shut you up real quick. 

You hated when he made you eat your words.

Biting back your tongue, all you can do is huff as you make your way inside, his eye burning a hole into the back of your head – and, if you weren’t so deep in distress, you’d hear the soft twinkle of satisfied laughter in his wake as he walks down the street.

God, he really was insufferable. 

—

That night, you sit up with a sudden realization as it hits you.

You knew that look.

That was the look that he gave his opponents –

The one that would dare them to fight him, to challenge him, to provoke him.

He was challenging you, daring you, provoking you.

He wanted to see if you’d break first.

He wanted to see if you’d give in.

You laugh so hard that your eyes start to water – and it’s full of disbelief and shock and amusement.

Like hell you’d let that happen.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You are your brother’s sister, and his stubbornness and competitive streak had been passed down to you tenfold. 

So, you catch up to Suo’s speed – fast.

Now you were the one initiating contact, touching him, teasing him.

Whenever he walked you home, you made sure to hold onto his arm, running your fingers up and down his bicep as you conversed. 

And, you don’t just let go.

No. You were better than that.

Instead, you’d run your hand down his whole arm as you separated, until you got to his hand – then, you’d hold onto that until all that was left was the tip of his pointer finger.

You’d give it a gentle squeeze, thanking him for walking you home, before letting it drop from your grasp.

You don’t miss the way his eyes follow the path of your hand every time, as if entranced by the feeling and the sight. 

Anytime he came into the café with Sakura and Nirei, you’d make sure to briefly touch his shoulder whenever you passed him, or hold onto his hand just a beat longer when handing him his tea.

(And, without fail, Sakura and Nirei erupt in striking hues of red and pink everytime. Though, Suo and you don’t pay them much attention. Kotoha will give you a knowing look, but you feign ignorance.)

You were no stranger to sugar coated words, either – so, you make it a goal to compliment him at least once every time you see him.

And, of course, you give him a nickname too. You take your time when you think of it because you really want it to stick – you really want it to have the same effect on him as it has on you.

So, you start calling him by his first name – and it works. 

“Hayato, you smell so good today.”

“Oh my Hayato, aren’t you looking handsome~”

“Ah, I missed you, Hayato.”

And, the first time you whisper in his ear, light and airy and sweet, you feel dejected when it doesn’t have the same effect on him as it has on you. You’re brought back to the night that he had confronted you, and you’re honestly a bit sad that it seems things haven’t changed.

You begin to pull away, but something catches your eye. So slight and so small that you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t so close. It’s the way his jaw tightens, the way he presses his lips together hard and restrained, the way that he clenches his fists until the whites of his knuckles peek out under the heated skin. And, you hear it – that sharp intake of breath.

His reaction makes you sway just the tiniest bit – and you want to see more. You want to see him flustered and flushed and desperate in the same way he’s made you.

You wanted him to lose his composure.

But – you and Suo keep it cute and casual and friendly.

Simply waiting for the other to break first.

If anyone is brave enough to bring it up, well – 

You both shake your heads in denial, a quick “no” rolling off the tips of your tongues.

(They’ll simply nod at your responses, but their eyes stay glued to the spot under the table where Suo’s got his hand splayed out on your thigh and the arm you’ve got wrapped around his to keep him there.)

… Who knew a friendly competitive sparring match amongst Bofurin would be his downfall?

୨ৎ Chapter 5

[littleplantfreak]

Chatterbox pt. 2 - SFW

Here's part 1 with everyone else

Togame Jo - If it's you, he lets you talk for hours. Anyone else, he prefers to keep it short and sweet. Choji'll start listening in and ends up putting you on speaker when they're at the Ori, but he gets embarrassed if Choji bring up the name he has for you in his phone. It's either some cutesy form of your name or a nickname like bunny or babe with emojis. "Togame why do you have hearts and sparkles on her name? Mine isn't like that! I'm adding some to mine too." And now he has his friend in his phone as ‘✨🦁Ch💛ji🕺✨’.

Choji Tomiyama - Loses his phone so much Togame has to search for it on Find My Friends at least once a day. But then once he finds it and realizes he missed your calls/texts he gets super pouty because he could've been bringing you with him on his daily adventures via call. Calls you back immediately even if it's past normal waking hours which has you like

Once you actually get him on the phone though, he'll talk your ear off until he gets the urge to see you. Then he's just walking to your house without telling you he's coming to get you, all while you chat on the phone. "Hey can you open the window? I'm on the second floor gutter and it's gonna fall soon." Bro.

Tsubaki Tasuku - Another chatter. Keeps it near two hours though cause his schedule is usually hectic. Sends you texts very frequently though. Insists on showing off how cute you both are on SNS and they're professional level photography (courtesy of Seiryu.) Actually a lot bolder with her affections on the phone, often making you flustered. You guys have matching charms on each other's phones too.

Kaji Ren - Although he likes the sound of your voice, like Hiragi, he wants to hear it in person rather than on the phone. Insists he's coming to pick you up right now because it's not like he's doing anything more important than spending time with you (doesnt matter what time you call him either. If you have a nightmare or something in the middle of the night, he's already at your back door.)  Has one (1) heart next to your contact name, but if anyone comments on it he flushes and gets aggro like immediately.

Endo Yamato - I shiver thinking about being able to talk to this guy on the phone. He somehow knows what you're doing when you call him despite you not even telling him yet. His ears just happen to be really good, and if he's honest about it, he kinda finds you predictable (not a bad thing, it's just how he is.) Matches your energy while texting, and he really likes when you send him pictures of your day. He doesn't seem like the type to be on the phone for more than 30 minutes to an hour.

Chika Takiishi - He lets you chat for hours, but doesn't really respond much unless prompted. Forgets you cant see that he's nodding at what your saying, which is really kinda silly to see from his end. If he's gotta do something that he can't use his phone during, he'll leave the phone with Endo while you keep talking.

Tachibana Kotoha - Loves to chat just like Ume. She'll usually put wireless headphones in so she can multi-task better during calls. Sends shopping links back and forth with you, pretty much window shopping but also getting inspo for new outfits. She's got the customer service voice down and accidentally answers your calls with it sometimes which is pretty funny. Uses more exclamation points than you'd think she does in text. Her limit is probably 2, 3 hours max (She's a busy girl.)

Suzuri Shuhei - Really likes talking on the phone and thinks things get kinda lost in translation during text. Types messages to you like he's writing a book sometimes, and other times it's like "K. Ok. Yeah." Sir just text that you're at work or gaming rn we CAN wait till later usually. Starts pretty much every call by asking what you did for the whole day, and then follows it up with his day as well. It's kinda domestic to him to end the day like that. Max is probably 2 hours but he can do more than one call a day sooo.

Sako Kota - When he's not sending you instagram worthy pictures of the cute desserts or drinks he's getting, he's calling you and asking what you want from the place he's at. Brings you anything you want, whether you're at work, school, or home if you don't or can't go with him. He doesn't wanna be on the phone for more than half an hour, but he also calls multiple times a day even if it's just a quick question about something you were talking about earlier. He doesn't know, but when you call he visibly perks up and everyone can tell it's you despite him keeping his regular tone of voice.

[creative-crybaby]

Fly on the Wall

PAIRING: yan!timeskip!Sakusa Kiyoomi x fem!reader

GENRE: smut | dark content (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: yandere themes, noncon, stalking, somnophilia, semi-public masturbation (m), nipple play, fingering (with leather gloves), dacryphilia, cum eating, creampie, size kink, breaking and entering, panty stealing, basically Sakusa is a perv

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 8.7k

SUMMARY: The new Black Jackal’s manager catches Sakusa’s eye. Unfortunately, whatever distance, physical or otherwise, is between you two, is too far for his liking. All characters are 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not meant to be a Christmas gift, but my timing does wonders, I guess :/

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

The Black Jackals getting a manager didn’t excite him the way it did his teammates. The idea itself didn’t bring him dread, of course, but the knowledge that certain players may get distracted–or worse: rowdier–brought more stress to him than he’d appreciate. 

Bokuto and Hinata were already babbling on to each other about what you might be like, reminiscing their high school days when they both had two managers on their respective teams. Atsumu joined in, whining that Inarizaki wasn’t as lucky to have a girl manager, let alone two attractive ones. He also bet that you’d be cute—Sakusa could only roll his eyes at the exchange.

You carried yourself with a grace often unfound in volleyball when meeting the team, offering a polite smile as you introduced yourself. Even when bombarded with questions from the boisterous ones (you know the ones), you didn’t falter, even assuring Meian that you didn’t mind the energy: “It’s nice to know I’ll be supporting a passionate team.”

Pretty, Sakusa thinks. You didn’t blow him away, but it was enough for him to acknowledge upon first laying eyes on you. Even he found himself momentarily frozen when you two made brief eye contact. 

Regardless, you’re not here for a modelling contract; you’re here to help the team grow to its full potential. The wing spiker may not be praying for your downfall, but he certainly isn’t going to celebrate your arrival too soon, either. 

Anyone can refill water bottles and hand out clean towels to sweaty giants. The same goes for taking notes on their progress, especially since you should know how volleyball works. From what Sakusa has observed, you do more than well in that department, too, always ready to correct someone’s form or have a report prepared for Meian in no time. You’re organized, punctual; it helps that you also sprinkle in some encouraging words when necessary. (Certain members are more than happy to gain that praise, which means more headaches on the ravenette’s end.)

It doesn’t take long for you to get him to accept you into the team—in his own way. He doesn’t avoid you like the plague, per se; he merely never saw any reason to put in as much effort to get to know you the way someone like Bokuto or Atsumu would. He was just glad to have one more person to give him some proper feedback. 

That distance Sakusa created is seemingly one-sided. There’s no special occasion, either: it was after a practice that partook a few days after a game against the Tachibana Red Falcons. A close match where the Black Jackals managed to pull through, though that wasn’t precisely what consumed the wing spiker’s thoughts at the time. You handed him a neatly folded towel during the athletes’ break, and he nods his thanks. You stay before him, and he peers up at you curiously after wiping his face. Stretching your hand to him, you carry a mini hand sanitizer pack. Nothing special: it’s a standard bottle in a dark red and attachable case. 

“Noticed you weren’t a fan of the gifts from some of your fans and would look grossed out when a kid would touch you,” you explain, offering a small smile. “Hope you don’t already have one of these. This was the only normal-looking one I could find. Wasn’t sure how you’d feel about having a giraffe case dangling from your bag.”

You offer a sheepish laugh that Sakusa would refuse to admit is something he’d want to hear again. Not wanting to leave you hanging any longer than he already has, he takes your gift, eventually muttering his thanks. 

It’s like a boy clinging onto that one compliment he got a few years back because it’s all he received. A rational voice in his head dismisses your observation as something someone on the team probably mentioned to you—maybe Atsumu made a joke about him being a germaphobe, and you took it seriously. 

Still, that’s not a possibility the wing spiker wants to entertain. Not as he goes on with the rest of practice, not when he’s in the changeroom, not when he’s attaching that case to his gym bag, not when he gets home, and certainly not when he goes to bed that night. A small gesture, one probably wouldn’t overthink, lingers in his thoughts until Occasion #2 appears. 

Coming back from an away game is one of the few opportunities the volleyball players get to recharge. After packing everything into the bus, each member sits in their unassigned-assigned seat. Or, at least, most of them would. Some chose to sit wherever it was convenient for them: they wanted to carry on their conversation with one of their teammates or maybe get some shut-eye. Sakusa was the latter, opting for a window seat far away from his boisterous colleagues as possible. Ready to close his eyes, he only got a few seconds of relaxation before he sensed some shifting next to him. With furrowed brows, he opens his eyes, ready to tell Atsumu off (let’s be honest, it’s always Atsumu), only to find you making yourself comfortable in the spot next to his instead. 

You turn to him somewhat sheepishly. “Hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get some rest, and you’re pretty quiet, so I figured having you as my seating buddy was my best shot.”

You don’t say anything afterwards, waiting for him to tell you to leave him alone. To his surprise (and yours, he’s sure), the wing spiker mumbles a stoic “Go ahead,” his eyes trailing towards the window as he readjusts his mask. Even with his gaze no longer on you, he could hear the smile in your voice as you thank him. 

For the next several hours, Sakusa remained awake, thinking about everything and nothing all at once as he’d glance over to your sleeping form every few minutes. Even people like Bokuto and Hinata lost enough energy to fall asleep, but the ravenette didn’t notice. If anything, his entire world dissolved into nothingness as soon as your frame unconsciously leaned on his shoulder. His whole body froze, but surprisingly, not out of disgust. Awkward, perhaps, but he didn’t feel the need to wake you up, let alone push you away. 

His senses heightened. With you so much closer, his eyes scanned every detail your face had to offer, every reaction you had in your sleep, from stirring after hitting a speedbump to sighing whenever Saksua dared to take a breath too deep. Speaking of breathing, even with yours being so shallow, he can hear the steady rhythm loud and clear, despite Bokuto’s snoring somewhere in the distance. Your scent attacked his nose, even with the mask shielding most of his face, and he can at least admit to himself that it was refreshing to smell something that wasn’t a bunch of sweaty athletes. It’s just your head on his shoulder, but the ravenette felt you burning your mark into his skin, one he didn’t ever want to wash off. Every sense except for taste—

A speed bump. The last thought retreated as fast as it invaded. The remaining hour and a half to return home flew by with his guilt as a distraction. Even when Atsumu woke up and teased the wing spiker for trying to get close to you, Sakusa didn’t feel the need to reply. He merely looked down at your still-sleeping form for several seconds more before eventually trying to wake you up. He’d rather he didn’t, but something about others seeing you in such a vulnerable state irked him in a way he can only describe as filthy. No amount of water and hand soap can scrub away that dirt, but as soon as your eyes opened and met his before anyone else’s, that itch got scratched. He didn’t register your profuse apologies until a couple of other teammates decided to join in on the teasing, and suddenly Sakusa found his voice. 

“It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. And it still isn’t. Maybe you forgot about it or saw that moment as a funny story to share over drinks with friends, but it’s different for the wing spiker. He knows it shouldn’t be, yet here he is, replaying every minor interaction between the two of you. There was a reason for him keeping his distance from you when you first started: you both stick to your tasks during practice and games, only interacting when progress and strategy are the focus. Otherwise, the athlete is back in whatever vacant corner he can find, shrinking his almost 6’’4 frame as much as he can in hopes that he can avoid possible interactions. (And if that means he gets to watch you laugh at something Atsumu said or go over strategy with Meian, then those times in his hiding spot have come with new benefits.)

But he’s not in a corner right now: he’s at Onigiri Miya with his team and EJP Raijin, eyes boring into your frame as his cousin says something he doesn’t quite catch. 

The ravenette hums. “What was that?”

“Your new manager’s pretty cute and all,” Komori starts, not too loudly for others to hear, “but if you keep staring at her, you’re going to look like some creep.” Sakusa’s head snaps to the libero, who sheepishly smiles as he scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, I get that you were never all that good with girls, but even you should know this stuff by now.”

The wing spiker scoffs at his cousin’s joke, opting to take a bite out of his onigiri instead of replying. You’re listening to whatever story the blonde Miya twin has to share, laughing whenever the younger one butts in with commentary to embarrass the former. Now you watch in amusement as the two lookalikes bicker, and it makes Sakusa realize something: besides the few moments he recalls oh-so fondly, you don’t interact with each other much outside of volleyball. 

He glides his thumb across the nori on his food in irritation. The moments shared between you rarely involve anything outside of the sport. For someone as observant as him, the ravenette is almost ashamed he let his very few one-on-one memories of you two distract him from such an obvious (and somewhat embarrassing) fact. 

You’ve probably spent more time with a handful of his other teammates. Sakusa recalls Bokuto and Hinata inviting you to a movie marathon at the latter’s place on your day off, though through all that excitement exchanged between them, all he could do was mutter under his breath about them wasting your time. It probably doesn’t matter whether or not you accepted their offer; they still approached you. 

The same goes for whatever Atsumu says to you that makes you two snicker under your breaths. Inside jokes, Sakusa is sure of it, though it doesn’t make him scoff any less. If anything, his mood grew sour with every interaction you had that wasn’t with him. Another fact he wasn’t aware of until the blonde setter asked him if the stick up his ass was bigger than it used to be. (The wing spiker’s response to the harmless joke needn’t be shared.)

“Just talk to her.” Komori’s voice brings Sakusa back to Onigiri Miya. Staring; again. Lovely. The ravenette faces his cheerful cousin once more, who offers a chuckle. “I’ll even play wingman if you want.”

The quieter of the two finishes his onigiri before getting up from his seat. The libero watches as his relative puts his MSBY jersey on before heading for the exit. “I’m good, thank you.”

The ravenette risks a glance your way once he makes it to the door. You don’t meet his gaze, still occupied with the twins. No surprise there, but that doesn’t stop the disappointment plunging into his chest as he exits the shop.

That one-sided has seemingly returned since then, though the roles are reversed. Even with the few moments exchanged between you two, Sakusa struggles to pinpoint when he started to care for your attention in the several months you’ve been part of the team. The days when he felt indifferent involved less overthinking and even lesser restless nights; now, he can’t stop nitpicking at whatever detail catches his eye. You styled your hair differently one day; you’re snacking on cheesecake-flavoured Kitkat because it’s your new favourite snack. These notes follow up with nothing on his end except an extra bullet point in his brain’s buzzing list. 

It’s a winter evening when he adds his first crucial fact: your home address. An abyss swallows the sky at what seems to be only half past five. Not a usual time for practice, though nothing that disrupted Sakusa’s schedule. He’s making his way to his car when he sees you standing aside, eyes glued to your phone. A rare sight, though not an unwelcomed one. 

You’re frowning, the wing spiker notices. He’s approaching you, he notices too little too late. You notice him. 

“Oh, Sakusa!” you smile, pocketing your device. “Good work today.” The ravenette doesn’t need his mask to hide his contentment at your praise, though the pride that swells inside him grows challenging to swallow. “Off home to relax?”

His tongue rests between his teeth as he nods, and you hug your coat tighter to your body. His brain screams to carry on a conversation, no matter how small or meaningless, but his eyes seem to do enough as they rake through the parking lot. He’s looking for your car, he realizes, but has no clue as to what it looks like. 

“Had to bus here,” you explain sheepishly. Sakusa watches you from the corner of his eye, internally sighing in relief at your (alleged) mind-reading powers. “My car needs fixing, and with practice taking place later on in the day, finding a bus worked better.” Your gaze trails to the streets only a few meters away, exhaustion making them droop. “Guess my supposed ride is being held back, huh?”

“Let me take you home.” 

Your head snaps in the wing spiker’s direction, whose eyes slightly widen in shock at his proposition. Now he decides to talk. He digs his nails into the strap of his gym bag, jaw clenching as he tries to appear calm as he awaits your response.

Your brows crease ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”

Your voice shrinks at your concern. Sakusa imagines you shrinking under his gaze as well. “You never cause me any trouble.”

Not how he would’ve liked to word it, but it’s too late to take it back. You beam at him, offering your thanks and letting him know you owe him as you step closer to his tall frame. He doesn’t flinch away, instead facing the parking lot once more as he chews on his bottom lip under his mask.

The car ride holds silence throughout the fifteen-to-twenty minutes on his end, with you giving the ravenette directions and discussing the team’s progress. He only offers curt nods and soft hums, not that he minds this time; your sunny tone and presence in such a closed space were more than enough for him. Besides, his brain is occupied with carrying your guidance as you get closer to your destination. Because he’s the driver, and you ought to return home safely. It’s been a long day for both of you: you’re exhausted, and you don’t hide this fact as you slump in the passenger seat and sometimes yawn. 

And when you finally tell Sakusa to pull up into your driveway, he can’t help but scan your home with his eyes, wondering which windows expose which room. He sees one with lavender curtains from the interior, and he’s willing to bet that’s your bedroom. 

You thank him, and the thought evaporates. He’s tongue-tied once more; he nods, unlocking the passenger door. Offering one more smile, you exit the car, and the wing spiker’s eyes bore into your frame as you walk up your porch and enter your home. 

He’s backing out of the driveway when he begins to wonder if there is something different he could have done. The small talk was calming, but he found that he wanted more. 

The drive back consists of Sakusa glancing over at where you sat every chance he got. He swallows harshly, fingers tapping impatiently against the steering wheel at a red light. Even with practice done a while ago, he feels hot. His clothes hug him uncomfortably, and it isn’t until his brain entertains the idea of peering down does he understand why. 

He recognizes this street. The ravenette pulls over to a secluded area, quick to unbuckle his seatbelt before throwing his mask off. His chest heaves as he slowly looks down once more as if the first time was just a trick of the lights. 

He’s hard. Being alone with you for less than half an hour is enough to make him fucking hard.

He’s also alone. For a second, he recalls keeping a pack of tissues in the glove compartment. 

He’s also in his car. His home is not too far from yours, he noticed as you gave him directions. 

You were also in his car. The passenger seat pulls Sakusa’s gaze towards it. He’s leaning into where you sat not long ago, and if he focuses hard enough, he can catch a whiff of your perfume.

His cock stirs in his slacks, and the ravenette climbs over the gear shift before his brain can reason with his body. 

The passenger’s seat is still a bit warm, he notices upon making himself comfortable in his new spot. The wing spiker shakily exhales as he unzips his pants with great haste, shimmying them down to his thighs. His pace doesn’t slow down when he gets to his briefs, either, opting to tuck the waistband between his balls and dick’s base to free his shaft of its confinements. Only then does he pause, breathing still trembling as he tries to calm himself. 

There’s not much time. An empty parking lot when he got there, but it won’t stay that way forever. Sakusa spits into his palm, needing some makeshift lube to start slowly stroking himself. The relief has his eyes fluttering closed and lips parting with a sigh. It isn’t long until he feels some precum sliding down from his slit, and he spreads the stickiness to help with his movements. He takes a deep breath through his nose and again catches your scent. 

What if it was your hand pumping his cock instead? It should be. You’d be smiling as you do so, peering up at the wing spiker through your lashes as you ask him how he likes it. Always there to help during practice; how is this any different? You want what’s best for the team, for him. Anything for him—

Sakusa’s choking on a groan as he paints his hand and the glove compartment a creamy white. He doesn’t open his eyes until his high finally descends him back to earth, where he realizes what he’s done. 

He groans, in both exhaustion and disgust from the mess in his car and thoughts. He was a teenager when he lasted this long, though the quantity of his release takes him by surprise. Has he truly been pent up for too long? Did you do this?

Sakusa’s quick to take out that tissue pack. 

You thank him for the ride home once more the next time you see each other at practice. Other than that, the wing spiker continues to keep his distance. Mainly due to the shame that follows remembering what he’s done after dropping you off, but the one time you two shared eye contact for more than a few seconds when you handed him a towel during a break brought another feeling into the mix: excitement. What for, Sakusa has yet to find out. Or maybe he’s trying to avoid that explanation. Like any minute, you’ll tell him, you know, eyelids heavy as the emphasis tells him more than enough of what you’re talking about. The thought makes his lower stomach churn in an agonizing blender. Then, you’ll pull him into the storage closet, where you’ll—

Say his name. Well, no. Not you. Someone else is saying it. Again and again. 

The ravenette blinks back into the real world, masking his fantasy with a blank slate for a face as he turns to look at whoever could need something from him.

“Oh, so yer awake?” Atsumu. Of course. “Still got some energy in me, and I need t’kill a bit of time. Wanna set fer ya fer a bit.”

The grin the faux blonde offers isn’t reciprocated as Sakusa notices front the corner of his eye some of his teammates entering the changeroom. A part of him wants nothing more than to follow them, the clothes clinging to his body from all the sweat making him internally recoil as he wishes for a shower. He also knows this is an opportunity to improve without you there: as much as he enjoys your presence, you become a distraction as a drawback. 

The wing spiker sighs. “Only for a little bit.”

Atsumu beams at his teammate’s (albeit reluctant) acceptance, already jogging to fetch a ball to begin.

Sakusa finds his focus coming back with every spike he lands on the other side of the court, slowly but surely returning to normal. Another way to release some steam; he tries not to cringe at the memory of the other tactic from the night before. 

The attempt fails as soon as you enter the gym with Meian by your side. The two of you are speaking to each other—about what, the ravenette isn’t sure. He doesn’t get a chance to listen in, anyway.

“Nice kill!” Atsumu chirps, gaining the attention of not just his teammate, but his captain and manager as well. With a final nod, you and Meian go your separate ways; him towards the changeroom and you, the other two athletes. 

“Don’t push yourselves too much, guys,” you chuckle. “You already worked hard during practice. Take the time to relax as well.”

Sakusa can barely give you a nod while the setter grins at you. 

“I’m gonna get cleaned up before we head out, ‘kay?” The wing spiker’s head snaps towards his teammate with a raised brow. Neither you nor the faux-blonde acknowledge his confusion. 

You smile. “Take your time. I’ll just put the net and volleyballs away while you’re at it.”

Atsumu nods before slapping Sakusa’s back and jogging to the changeroom. The ravenette can only look down at a stray ball and pick it up. He remembers enjoying the silence between him and whoever he was with. 

“I’ll help,” he mutters, walking away before he can witness your reaction. It’s ridiculous, like some middle school crush: wanting nothing more than to be close to you, but freezing up as soon as it happens. And he can’t avoid you forever–he doesn’t want to–because you eventually meet him at the ball cart, dropping the armful of volleyballs into it. “What was that with Miya earlier?”

His voice finds itself whenever he’d rather it didn’t. He’s curious, sure, but he didn’t need his tone to give away his distaste. He can only hope you dismiss it as Sakusa being Sakusa and nothing more. 

With the small smile you give him, the ravenette is certain he’s safe. “Oh, ‘Tsumu invited me to check out this restaurant that recently opened with him after practice. Heard they made some of my favourites there, and I wanted to try them ASAP.”

Sakusa pretends that you being on a first-name basis with the setter doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t respond to your explanation and remains silent as he brings the net down with your help. The next time he acknowledges you is before he rushes to the changeroom to shower, ignoring Atsumu as they cross paths.

He’s at the wrong house. 

You’d think one knew the directions to the place they called home, yes? At the very least, have an idea of the area. Yet, it’s only until your driveway makes it to his peripheral vision does the ravenette realize his mistake. And he’s just in time to watch you walk up your porch. 

After another restless night, the wing spiker needed to clear his head. His home brought him no distractions, already too tidy to clean, and his mind continuously drifted away when watching recordings of volleyball matches. With a day to himself, he might as well go around town—there’s a mall not too far from his place, he recalls. It was a better attempt at keeping him occupied, though he couldn’t help it when he passed a perfume shop and wondered what scent was your favourite. Or the neighbouring lingerie store, putting whatever scandalous pieces of lace out on display, giving the athlete’s spiralling mind suggestions on what you would look best in. (White, he concluded before processing.) 

He didn’t want much, nor did he need much. More or less satisfied with his purchases (and dissatisfied with failing distractions), he’s in his car, ready to head back home. 

But he’s not home. Or rather, his house. The latter is a mere building; the former, a sense of comfort. And while there’s guilt bubbling in his chest, witnessing you carry on with your everyday life has him relaxing in his seat.

You were on an errand run, Sakusa observes. Groceries, from what he sees. What would you be making for dinner tonight? He’s too far away to catch what exactly is in your bags. The weather’s fallen to a frigid slumber—stew, perhaps? Or maybe you’ll make some umeboshi—those appeared to be your favourite whenever the team stopped by at Onigiri Miya. He and his teammates have had the opportunity to try some of your cooking firsthand; the ravenette is positive whatever you make will be just as delicious.

Then he remembers yesterday’s interaction, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. Where did you two go? And when did Atsumu get so comfortable with you to take you out? You seemed content and—

And getting angry during this opportunity won’t do him any good. Surprised, Sakusa manages to calm down a little, opting to distract himself with other scenarios.

What could you two eat together? What would you serve him? He lets his thoughts waltz. The two of you share a meal after a long practice, or maybe you cook together on your day off. He’s seen a few romance movies in his life; he can imagine hugging you from behind as you prepared the food, him nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck as you both talked about whatever was on your mind. The conversation would continue as the two of you ate at the dinner table, his hand itching to find yours across from him. 

And for dessert, he’d have you sitting on the kitchen counter with your legs wide open as he ravaged what’s in between them, your hands clawing at his dark curls as his greed controls his tongue. Or, maybe you’re feeling extra generous and decide to help him relax after a tiring practice, lowering to your knees to take every inch of his—

You’re struggling to open your front door. Too many bags in your hands—the wing spiker has half a mind to get out of the car and help you. As crazy as you drive him, he still has some sense to remind him that whatever excuse he has to be in your neighbourhood won’t be convincing, even from him. And with the evergrowing tightness in his pants, he has another problem he can’t hide. Worse, he doesn’t feel as bad as he used to anymore.

You finally manage to get inside, and the athlete starts the engine to find a secluded area once again.

Sakusa has to refrain from spiking the ball at the faux-blonde’s face in the following practice. A match among teammates, and noticing the setter’s little pep in his step upon entering the gym that morning had the ravenette glaring hard. A part of him was relieved being on Atsumu’s opposing team, doubting he could work alongside him for the day. 

For now, the wing spiker aims his spikes at the older Miya twin. Anyone could view the action as part of his strategy; aiming for the setter to prevent them from setting is an old trick in the book, but still in the book. 

“Damn it, Omi!” Atsumu exclaims in frustration after not properly receiving Sakusa’s spike. “Quit pickin’ on me! Ma arms are gonna fall off!”

A twinge of satisfaction plucks at the ravenette’s chest from the outcry, though he masks it with a huff before walking back to his position. His eyes automatically make their way to your form on a bench, keeping track of the points while scribbling some notes whenever possible. You don’t catch his gaze, seemingly occupied with whatever’s on your clipboard. The lack of attention makes Sakusa frown, as he had hoped you’d see him on his little winning streak. 

It doesn’t stop him. If anything, it adds fuel to the fire, the flicker of pride from before blooming into something dangerous. 

His plan doesn’t change: Atsumu will remain his target until he decides otherwise. The next time he’s given a chance to spike, his eyes make the mistake of gluing themselves to his victim. Barnes quickly steps in front of the faux-blonde’s spot, flinching from the impact but still blocking the ball perfectly. 

It’s just one point, one that he can easily take back. Still, Sakusa can’t help but aim his glare at the setter on the other side of the net, something that doesn’t go unnoticed. A hand lands on the wing spiker’s shoulder, snapping him out of his spiralling daze. 

“Take a seat, Sakusa.” Meian’s expression appears relaxed, though there’s a rough edge to his tone telling him it’s not a suggestion.

The bench you’re sitting on is opposite his team’s side of the court. Had that not been the case, the ravenette would try to take the opportunity to sit with you, even if words wouldn’t be exchanged. Instead, he settles onto a bench too far from you for his liking. Even if he were to try and take a peek at you, players from the other team block you from his vision, what with their constant moving. 

He’s observing their movements; anyone can assume that. Sakusa can no longer remember the time he’d do something like that unless he was watching videos of matches at home. If he’s not keeping the ball in the air on his side of the court, then he’s scavenging for a chance to even be reminded of your existence: you handing the athletes water and towels, the captain calling your name to gain your attention. Anything will do. So no matter the frustration that comes with the package, he’ll find a way to catch you. 

It isn’t until he watches you rise from the bench does Sakusa realize that practice is done for the day. He didn’t notice his teammates walking away from the court and giving him a clearer view of your frame; he was glad he could see you at all. His posture straightens as he watches you approach Atsumu, and his hands ball into fists when you rest your hand on the faux-blonde’s arm. Whatever you two may be discussing, the ravenette can only assume it has to do with his teammate being on the receiving end of his pent-up aggression. 

Your conversation ends short and sweet, with you walking towards the storage closet. Sakusa’s only half-listening to his captain when he asks if everything is okay with him. Meian is offered an unenthusiastic response of “Everything is fine” before the younger athlete stalks away.

You’re struggling to roll out the ball cart from its spot when the wing spiker enters the storage closet. He doesn’t hesitate to approach you from behind and grip the handle about an inch away from your hold. You gasp, jolting back slightly before turning your head to face the brooding ravenette. 

“You startled me, Sakusa,” you sigh, clutching your chest. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Always so eager to please, aren’t you? The wing spiker has to refrain from smirking at the thought. 

Still, he ignores your question. “The wheels on this cart have been acting up lately.” With newfound confidence, he places his free hand on your shoulder to gently pull you out of the way for him to yank the cart. It jerks out of its place with a loud screech, and you wince. “You just need to give it a tug. Until it’s fixed, anyway.”

Sakusa looks down at the cart upon realizing this is probably the most words he’s spoken to you without having you carry the conversation. 

You grip the handle after a few seconds of silence. Your voice, suddenly meek, shakes as you thank him. He’s blocking your way; nothing you need to point out to him, but your silence says plenty. His feet stay planted on the ground, and your loss of confidence makes his cock stir in his pants. 

“You were pretty tough out there earlier,” you point out. The wing spiker knows you purposefully left out who he was giving a hard time. He also knows, based on your concerned tone, that you’re asking him for an explanation. 

You aren’t offered a response. Sakusa only takes his time turning his head to peer at you, the darkness of the storage closet and the way his black curls frame his stoic face giving him an intimidating aura. But what has you subconsciously shrinking into your corner are the onyx caskets for irises boring into your frame, beckoning you to crawl into the empty pools of demise. 

“I have to be if I want to win,” is his response before finally leaving you be, exiting the changeroom with the same intensity you witnessed mere seconds ago.

He’s back: closer. 

Parking his car nearby doesn’t cut it for him anymore. Sakusa doesn’t think it ever did. With the amount of patience lost for every practice with his team, the initial distance was just a formality. 

Now, his car hides nearby as he approaches your home, giving a quick yet thorough peek over his shoulder to make sure he’s in the clear.

It took him the third visit to learn where you hid your spare key, having seen you take it out from under the cushion of a little bench on your porch. And luckily for him, it hasn’t left its spot. 

Even with his morals flying out the window, the wing spiker neatly places his coat, scarf and boots aside after removing them, then ponders over his leather gloves until ultimately deciding to keep them on. He eyes the spare slippers by the entrance before concluding they won’t be necessary (for this visit, anyway).

Based on the house’s layout, it shouldn’t take long for Sakusa to find your bedroom. But it’s not going anywhere, and neither are you. Why not get to know you via your home?

It’s a small house: one story and cozy. The ravenette wonders how you afforded it, even with your salary. With how minimal the style appears, he can only assume most of your income went into the building itself. Would it be too much for him to buy you things for the interior? As a gift, perhaps when the occasion calls for it. 

Then again, is he really in any position to ask himself about doing too much? He almost chuckles at the thought. 

A quick yet thorough tour of your home gives him a more detailed layout, though he’d love to stay longer had he had the time. Or better yet, your company. As satisfied as he was to find your living room and kitchen tidy–and by his standards no less–he’s not done getting to know you. 

People don’t really need an exploration of the bathroom. It’s as clean as any other room, though it’s a cast-aside note when his eyes land on your laundry basket. Half full, too. Squatting closer to the dirty pile, a subtle yet musky scent hits his nose. Sakusa almost groans, cock stirring in his slacks; for such a clean freak, he’s never been more excited.

His eyes scan the basket’s contents, eventually landing on flimsy lace. Part of him wishes he wasn’t sporting gloves for the occasion, but he doesn’t let that stop him as he picks up the article of clothing. Underwear, of course it is, and a flattering magenta nonetheless. You wear this to practice? Or are there other times you put it on? Do you have a matching bra? The wing spiker can’t find anything in the basket, though he’s sure–no, he knows–you’d wear it like it was made for you. 

Are you wearing something similar right now?

The ravenette stands from his position, pocketing the lacy undergarment before exiting the bathroom. Consider it a welcoming gift. 

Again, it doesn’t take long for him to find your room. Being in such an intimate location is a different experience compared to looking in as an outsider. Everything is you: the way you organized your shelves and vanity, the colour palette—your scent is more prominent here. Sakusa doesn’t catch his eyes fluttering shut until he distinctly hears shifting. 

To his right, you lay on your mattress, your sheets messily hanging off parts of your body. You’re barely a silhouette in his eyes; the moonlight stalking past the crack between your curtains is the only thing helping the ravenette navigate your room. Parts of the glow highlight a bit of your face, though a shimmer from the light’s reflection teases his peripheral vision. 

You have a bookcase headboard, and on it lays a necklace in its case. Nothing fancy; a golden heart hanging off a thin chain. It’s more the note next to its box that catches the ravenette’s eye:

Thought this would look good on you ;) Hope you like it!

— Tsumu (your favourite setter <3)

If it weren’t for the fact that you’d notice, Sakusa would crumble that note and follow up with the faux-blonde’s neck. When did you get this? He surely would’ve noticed if you received it during practice. 

There’s a good chance the setter gave it to you before or afterwards. The wing spiker’s aware that the two of you spent time together outside of training, though for it to happen enough times that Atsumu found it appropriate to give you a gift as intimate as a heart-shaped necklace has the ravenette glaring at the piece of jewellery. (As open as his teammate may be, Sakusa doubts he’d buy something like that for someone after a single meet-up.)

He hears a sigh: yours. Your body shifts in its spot again, opting to lay on your back. The wing spiker freezes for the slowest seconds his alarmed brain can count, only to relax once you stay in your new spot.

They say an average of eight spiders crawl into your mouth yearly while you sleep. A myth, of course, but maybe that’s what we tell ourselves to ease the paranoia. Maybe, that’s what he is, Sakusa thinks; a spider. Soundless, observant—he’s certainly made himself at home. 

Maybe not, he reconsiders. Most people would carefully trap the eight-legged creature before bringing it outside. Or kill it; no mercy necessary. You have yet to do either. 

Then again, you aren’t like most people. Not in his eyes, anyway. No, his eyes entertain themselves with your every move, and no matter how deep those holes in the side of your head are, you don’t catch his stare. Whatever he may be, he’s always the perfect distance to observe you.

Sakusa’s brain buzzes mindlessly as his hands draw closer to your form, long fingers pinching the hem of your pyjama shirt before lifting the material. No bra: not a surprising observation, what with your nipples poking at the fabric from the cold. Even with how dark it is, the ravenette salivates from the sight, his cock stirring in his pants. He’s grateful for the lack of witnesses, though it’s still embarrassing to be as affected as he is. You’re not even fully nude. Yet.

He waits for a reaction. Other than you moving in your sleep, the wing spiker receives nothing. He exhales through his nose, never thinking that gaining the knowledge about you being a heavy sleeper early on would be an advantage for him. His fingers twitch before slowly landing on your stomach. Again, no reaction; he then lays his palms to join the digits. With a deep and shaky breath, the ravenette glides his hands up your torso until they reach your breasts. 

They feel perfect in his grasp, even with the thick layer of the leather gloves creating that barrier. Your face scrunches when he gives your mounds a light squeeze, though you remain asleep. As deep of a sleeper as you may be, one wrong move could ruin everything. Sakusa gulps, dragging his middle finger to flick at your nipple. A shaky breath from you is enough for him to shift into a more comfortable position on your bed before he continues his ministrations more confidently. 

He’s careful, he assures; eyes flickering from your chest to your face, reading your expressions to discover what you like and making sure you don’t wake up. All the while, the athlete tries to ignore the tightness of his pants, although watching you squirm beneath him because of his touch makes that a challenge. 

“Hnngh….”

It was barely audible, but enough to make the athlete stop everything. You’re still asleep, of course—he’s almost impressed, a bit jealous, even. Countless nights of insomnia on his side because of his fantasies playing on a loop, but yours give you a good night’s rest.

Regardless, the wing spiker gears to earn another reaction like that. Dipping his toes further into the water, he gets a little rougher, tweaking the sensitive buds between his covered fingers. Your back arches in his hold; more than enough confirmation for him. 

Shifting his position once more, Sakusa wraps his lips around one of your nipples, dragging his tongue against it while groping the other breast. You whimper when he begins sucking: a shallow sound, but it travels down to his crotch. He already has to deal with the embarrassment of finishing early because of you; if he cums in his pants without any stimulation, you’ll surely be the death of him.

He can’t rely on you being a deep sleeper forever: the wing spiker must work quickly. Pulling away from your chest, Sakusa brings his attention to the lower half of your body. His hands glide down to your hips, hooking his index fingers past the elastic waistband. He wonders whether he should take his time removing the article of clothing or pull them down in one motion. You help him make a quick decision when your leg accidentally brushes against his hard-on. And while he refrains from letting out a groan, his hands make fast work of harshly tugging your pants to your knees. 

Silence: not a sound from you, not a breath from him. Your thighs clench momentarily out of reflex once the cool air hits the exposed skin. Not fast enough—Sakusa managed to catch a peek at your drooling cunt. And it isn’t until you finally relax again does he exhale with a light shiver from the sight. 

Now, with a clear view, the athlete reaches for his opportunity by swiping some of your essence and bringing that same finger to your clit. Your hips buck into his touch as he rubs slow but tight circles on the pearl, making his brows furrow in concentration and chest swell with pride. It isn’t long until he adds to his pace and slides a finger from his other hand into your sopping hole. Your thighs clench on impulse, a mewl leaving your throat as the air remains stuck in his. His movements are forced to a halt due to your hold, and it takes several seconds for you to settle. Do you enjoy the sturdy material of leather rubbing against your insides? Maybe you’re unaware of the answer, but God, wouldn’t the ravenette love to know.

Dipping his toes in the water is long out of the discussion; if anything, he’s in too deep, the water rising every second he proceeds. He might as well follow the rest of him down, no? Take that final gulp of air before dipping his head in and letting that frozen abyss swallow him.

Sakusa experimentally wiggles his finger inside you and, after gaining no reaction, slides in another. With how wet you already were, it doesn’t take much effort on his part. You gasp, but your eyes stay closed. Even with his morality slipping away each day he sees you, the wing spiker still finds himself surprised (and grateful) that you can sleep through his actions. He wonders how far he can go. 

The longer and deeper he pumps his digits inside you, the more reactions he earns from you. The squelching noises between your legs also become louder, especially with the leather material of his gloves. He’s no longer worried, just curious about what sounds and expressions he can pull out of you. 

A particular response tells him he’s found your sweet spot. With a drawn-out yet breathless wail, you lift your hips off the mattress once the ravenette prods at a certain part inside you. 

Where there is darkness, there is also light, and that’s exactly what could be said to describe the glimmer in his eyes upon discovering this hidden gem of information. He continues his ministrations, watching in fascination and lust as you grind into his touch. 

Meanwhile, his cock is begging to be released from its restraints, throbbing due to the display. Sakusa was hoping to hold out for a bit longer, mapping out your body in ways he hopes no one else has, but along with any logic and morality, his patience flies out the window. 

You whimper when the athlete slides his fingers out; he almost wants to coo, assure you that he’ll make you feel all better. He can’t, of course, so he opts to taste you, lick his digits clean of your slick. He’s certain he almost cums on the spot, your sweetness consuming his tastebuds (as well as a hint of bitter leather) and leaving its mark in his memories. The wing spiker’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he tries to refrain from groaning. 

When his gaze returns to your form, he’s swift with your pants, further sliding them down before doing the same to himself. Having his cock out of its confinements already does plenty for him, but not enough. Sakusa recalls how your cunt squeezed his fingers, practically sucking them in. You were warm, dripping, even with his gloves in the way. And with how eager he is to have you make a mess on his dick, he knows he’s no longer the same person he was before meeting you.

The athlete taps the tip of his cock against your clit a few times, just to watch you squirm, before sliding into your entrance. Only a few inches in, and he already has to dig his teeth into his bottom lip. None of this was a part of his plan—he’s not even sure he had one in the first place; he just needed to see you, feel your presence in some way, shape or form. And the latter is more than he could ever ask for, your insides hugging him just as tight as they did his fingers. The lack of a barrier is the icing on the cake. 

He’s bottomed out before he knows it, and Sakusa doesn’t know where to look: your face contorting from being filled to the brim or your cunt stretching open to accommodate his size. Either one intensifies the swirling of his lower stomach. All he can do for now is play with your clit until you appear to feel better. (And if that means you clench harder around him, then so be it. He’s come this far as is.)

After a few minutes, the wing spiker reels his hips back with a deep breath. His thrusts are gentle, as much of a challenge as it may be to hold back. He bites his bottom lip as he feels you hug every inch of his cock, threatening to milk him for all he’s worth when he’s barely begun. You’re so much better than his hand; no fantasy can compare. 

A few strokes in, and Sakusa’s restraint is thinning. Every time, he thrusts in a bit deeper, a bit faster, a bit harder. You’re quietly moaning between pants, your face twisting from a pained expression to one much lewder. Pretty lips parted with brows both furrowed and raised, you have the ravenette throwing his head back with a silent groan. 

Unfortunately for him, that’s when he catches sight of that damn necklace again. His grip on the sheets next to your head tightens, his thrusts sloppy as his mind races. What made Atsumu think he had the right? Does he think a necklace is all it’ll take to get you? Sakusa drops his head to glare daggers as you continue to mewl and whimper. What do you think is happening right now? Who are you thinking about right now? 

His mind keeps reeling, and the wing spiker fails to notice how he’s taking out his aggression in his thrusts.

Your whimpers grow to pathetic cries, tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and his hold on your sheets move to your wrists on instinct. With the mental spiral and physical force, the ravenette fails to notice your eyes shoot open.

Then, you gasp. “Sakusa!”

He hears the fear in your voice, no doubt. Yet, in a situation like this, with you beneath him, tears streaming down your cheeks as your sobbing and panting mix together, he can’t help but create a more beautiful scenario. You’re begging for him, his cock, needing him to fuck you stupid and fill you up to the brim, the pleasure so overwhelming that your nails are digging into his back, only his shirt shielding his skin from the potential marks. 

The athlete doesn’t think; he slams his lips against yours, his tongue quick to explore your mouth as his release hangs on to the edge. And when your pussy flutters around his dick, creams around it, it’s the push he needs. Hot spurts of cum paint your insides white as Sakusa kisses you harder, his hips stilling. Even as he groans against your mouth, he can hear your choked moans, and he never wants any of this to end. 

But that’s not how it works. Eventually, you both come down from your highs, his cock going soft and out of cum to give you. The wing spiker doesn’t pull out, but it doesn’t stop the white liquid from trying to seep out. It makes him shiver, slowly ending your kiss for you both to catch some air. The string of saliva connected to your lips that follows him as he sits up distracts him; something else to bind you two together. It’s messy, so so so messy. 

He loves it. 

You’re both breathing hard for the next several seconds, your terrified expression not faltering as your body trembles lightly. 

“Wha—How?” you gasp, sob, you’re not sure, and neither is he. He’s only half-listening, still floating on that release and too far away. “Sakusa, how did you get in?”

There they are again: those eyes. Empty pools, yet always full of judgement. Like you’re the crazy one. Tracing the river streams down your face and clumps of shields for lashes, they seemingly do more talking than his mouth. 

Then, Sakusa reaches a hand out to cup your cheek. You flinch, but it doesn’t stop him from wiping a stray tear. Even with your helpless sounds quieting down, the silence isn’t any less deafening. And when his voice, smooth and deep and a little too nonchalant, invades the room, you shiver.

“I was always here.”

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

[hai7ani]

橘 (TACHIBANA/JÚ) haitani rindou

nsfw (no smut/not suggestive), reader copes with alcohol, panic attack but nothing descriptive, arguments please proceed with caution

masterlist | playlist

part ii / everything

The year of 2015 and you are an alcoholic. It is a Tuesday night and you've just gotten out of an AA meeting that you'd deemed useless the first time you attended out of courtesy -- there is no amount of talking and sharing and clapping that can help relieve the ache of your heart. It is constant and heavy and you can never make it go away. It never goes away. And yet you still attend every week, every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday for the sake of attending because you are sick and tired of being alone. You feel lonely most days -- you are lonely most days.

You hear thunderstorms and figure that it is going to rain soon. You think to yourself while walking and you decide you are not in the mood to go home; you do not feel like dealing with the shitty elevator and your lousy neighbours tonight. So you huff and walk into the first bar you see and drink yourself stupid despite the concerns coming from your therapist.

Ex-therapist.

"Y/n-san, please try to cut down and control yourself with the alcohol. It is making your thoughts go worse and there's no health benefits either. We make progress and you seem to get better at maintaining your sobriety, but you'll relapse every time the topic of him comes up. This is not healthy, dear."

You fired her and stormed out of her office the moment she brings him up again while calling her a bitch. You told her to quit her job since she is so bad at it anyway. And you know it is not nice -- she was simply doing her job. You just didn't like how called out you feel. You said it before that you don't like it when she asks about him. You hate it when she urges you to open up about that summer.

Your vision is cloudy; you feel the world spinning around and everything looks distorted. Warm yellow lights shine brightly from above, a jazz band performing at the stage (their music is ass) that you're sure no one is listening to and you feel like puking so you gag but nothing comes out.

You swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth and laugh to yourself when you hear his words echo in your ears again.

"I never wanna lose you."

"Yeah, right." You snort and take another sip of the vodka in your hand.

This is what you're used to -- clinging on to a shadow of a boy you never see again and refusing to let go after all these years. The longing and waiting for him to come back to you turns into desperation and you drink yourself into an alcoholic who secretly has anger issues because it takes your pain away.

Or that's what you tell yourself and the others when they ask why you're alone at a bar.

You cry hard every time you drink; you think of him whenever you feel dizzy and your entire world is finally foggy and he is the only thought that comes up in your mind.

Drinking never helps you to take your pain away. It only helps you to think and relish in him and his love that you try so hard to push away during the day when there are countless of annoying kids tugging on your apron and telling you look at the new clay art they made. You cannot afford to collapse in front of people who are not him. You don't trust yourself to do it when he is not around.

You just miss him so much.

And you sob into the sleeves of your sweater when everything gets too overwhelming and you just want him to come back. You really want to see him again. You really want to tell him that the voicemails you left to him that day was all a lie -- that you still love him so.

"I never wanna lose you."

He never did.

It was you who'd lost him instead.

A hand wrapping around your wrist breaks you from your train of thought and you yelp in shock. It pulls you from the table and another snatches the glass away from yours. You go slack against the chair and huff with a frown. You feel that it is a man because of the flashy Daniel Wellington wrapped around his big wrist and you watch through blurry vision as he hands your glass of vodka to a passing bartender. "No more of this. Get me her bill." The bartender nods and walks away.

You poke his arm and frown deeper. "Hey, you. I was still drinking that." You don't find any energy in you to argue with him for snatching away your drink, so you squint through cloudy eyes and pouty lips as you try to recognise the man. But you shrug and figure he is just a stranger and probably a molester, or even worse, a sex trafficker, so you grab your bag with tired hands and stand to leave. You stumble back a little when the chair obstructs your foot and he places a firm hand behind your back to stabilise your swaying body.

"Tsk. Sit down. You're drunk." He tuts and snatches your bag away from you to place it back on the table. To say you are dumbfounded is an understatement. "Yeah, ya damn right I'm drunk. Leave me alone or I'm calling security. My drink isn't enough 'n now my bag ya wanna touch too. Asshole." You slur and muster up all the strength you can to kick his shin. He hisses at the striking pain and bends over to rub a hand over the area. "Jesus- still as painful as ever-"

But you sit back down nonetheless and take a deep breath, trying to regain your senses. You prop both elbows on the table. "Security," you mumble while leaning your head on your hands, "security!" You say it louder this time and it seems to have caught some attention with a few people nearby turning their necks and observing you with the man who is painfully calm about this whole situation.

You hear him sigh as he shuffles closer to you. He smells like expensive cologne with a hint of lavender -- it's a smell that is very familiar and you stun at it.

And it comes to you after a while when he smooths a hand down the back of your head and you feel like a little girl again. Tears spring to your waterline as you let him touch you. You watch as he rolls the sleeves of your sweater up to your forearm and feel as he gathers your hair to the back. He is gentle when doing all that and you don't feel any malicious intent coming from him anymore.

Because he is someone you know.

Security stands beside you after a moment but you ignore them as you try to focus on the way he is braiding your hair into a fishtail.

Like how he always used to.

A light yet masculine voice speaks as he secures the end of your hair with an elastic he pulled from your wrist.

"I know her. I'm a friend."

Security walks away after further confirmation that you cannot hear properly and you blink your droopy eyelids, trying hard to stay conscious but failing miserably when the alcohol finally takes over and you collapse on the table.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You wake up in someone's bed the next day. You don't recognise the room and you make sure your clothes are still on -- they are -- while hurriedly pushing the blankets off your body and standing up with a groggy head. The hangover is hitting hard and you hiss and yelp when you stub your toe hard at the foot of the bed.

"Morning." A voice greets from behind and your world stops spinning. Suddenly the hangover isn't there anymore and the voice is all you can focus on.

You turn around with wide eyes and see Haitani Ran standing by the door holding a cup of water and a pill in his hands. He walks over to you quietly and shoves them in your hands.

He looks so much different than before. No more long and braided hair in blonde and black -- it is now short and hangs loosely over his forehead in the colours of purple and black. Lanky body more pumped and muscular now -- he looks like someone legit and can be taken more seriously by people. Purple orbs that has never changed in intensity as they stare deep into yours who dulls when the memories starts flooding your brain.

"Ran."

He doesn't react other than nodding towards the stuff in your hands. "Take it. And I left some clothes in the bathroom. Take your time. I'll be outside with breakfast." He simply states with a soft yet firm voice and closes the door behind him when he leaves.

You drop to the bed and try to control your breathing with shaky breaths and a pounding migraine.

You feel your entire world collapsing around you. The strong border you've tried so hard to build with the outside world comes crashing down in an instant. The room feels like it is closing in on you and you rub at your eyes tiredly.

Suddenly you feel like the 19 year-old girl living in Kanagawa again.

And you cry.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Ran is sitting at the dining table eating breakfast when you exit his room. You've showered and got yourself dressed in some clean clothes he left for you -- a woman's clothes -- and you're shy when you pad to him, fingers fiddling with the hem of the cotton t-shirt.

You stop when Ran looks at you.

"Hey." He greets but you don't reply. Instead, you glance around and find that the house is well-decorated -- colourful quilted fabrics protecting the pillows on the couch and a vase full of baby's breath sits on the coffee table. There are many different photo frames hanging on the walls and on top of cupboards and you find yourself wanting to look at them. The kitchen cabinets are transparent and you see a lot of different snacks and instant noodles inside. The house is so lived-in and you can't help but smile softly.

You turn your head back to him who is already staring at your figure as he munches on a piece of bread.

You hadn't seen Ran in a very long time.

"Hi." You finally say it back and take a seat in front of him. He nods towards the cup of coffee in front of you and you move with shaky hands to take a sip. The handle is facing you and you feel a bit more refreshed when the smell hits your nose and you're reminded that Ran has always been attentive like that; like the times where he would cover the edge of the table when you bend down to pick a fallen pen up, or the times where Ran would shield you from a flying ball at the park and it hits him hard on the shoulder instead. The corners of your lips lift up while you savour the taste in your mouth and swallow with a satisfied sigh -- Ran has always made good coffee.

"So good." You murmur and place the mug back down on the table. Ran chuckles airily through his nose and pats the crumbs off his fingers. "Of course. It's Ran's Coffee." You laugh a little at that -- it's what you've always used to call his drink when he passes it to you in the kitchen of his old home.

Ran doesn't bring up yesterday and neither do you feel like doing so, so you choose to ignore it and eat while stealing a few glances here and there at him and smiling sheepishly when he catches you through eye contact. And you observe him openly now while chewing on some sausages -- he's wearing a neatly pressed white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and it is paired with black slacks. Hair is gelled and combed up instead of hanging over his eyes like before. You think he looks so much more mature now and you wonder if-

Your eyes travel down to his hands and find a very shiny ring on his fourth finger. ". . . You're married?" You stop chewing at the realisation and blurt it out with wide and glossy eyes.

Ran grins at your suddenness and nods.

"Been married for two years now." He pauses while wiping his lips with a napkin. And he takes a glimpse at your reaction, trying to search for something in them -- he doesn't, so he continues. "Got a girl on the way too. Her name's Yui. Just ゆい."

You beam brightly at his happy. "God. Congrats, Ran!" And you truly are so happy for him -- since young, Ran had always been a family man. He's always talked about marrying a pretty woman and starting a nice little family with her -- a boy and a girl to balance it out, he once said. And you'd swatted his arm when he'd wiggled his brows at you while his brother scowled and tugged at a braid harshly.

You'd never gotten the memo back then.

And you decide not to ask him about his wife and how they met nor do you focus the topic to his daughter who is on the way -- you figure it'll bring up some awkwardness to the table (it wouldn't, but you just want to avoid your feelings) and you wince a little when you're reminded of the things Ran had left you in that box 7 years ago.

For the rest of breakfast you both make small talk, and you'd made it a mental note to dodge anything that is personal. Although Ran is a very old friend and you'd immediately felt comfortable around his presence, he is still his brother, and you and Ran still have some unresolved issues that needs to be talked about -- you don't think you are ready for it yet -- but Ran doesn't asks you anything too deep. He doesn't bring up his brother too -- and you relax when he starts talking about himself instead.

Apparently he runs a tech company now. It was nothing like the field he'd used to daydream of being in (the fashion industry) and it shocks you to the core when you find out that it's one of the companies that is currently rising in popularity and net worth in Japan. So you open up a little to tell him you work as a teacher now -- you teach children handicrafts and help younger ones with reading and writing at a daycare centre, though your smile falters a little when he asks if it is what you enjoy doing. You were the girl who's never found out your passion for the entirety of your teenage and schooling years -- you still haven't now that you're an adult, but you don't tell Ran that -- and you nod anyway when Ran continues to share about a few of his wife's friends who are looking for a handicrafts teacher for their children too; he asks if it's okay that he recommends you to them and you give him your consent.

Ran stands to get your plate when you're finished and you stand too, the creak of the chair against the floor loud and you grimace a little at it. You don't know what for -- you know Ran well enough to know that he will for sure reject if you offer to wash the dishes at his house, yet you stand anyway, and you watch from behind as he places them in the sink while switching on the tap. The water runs loudly and your lonely eyes flicker around until it lands on the stuff covering the fridge -- magnets from different countries, a picture of an ultrasound of his unborn daughter at 7 months, some documents and pending bills . . . You think it is all a bit too heartwarming to look at and you reluctantly look away.

". . . Do you have work later?" Ran asks with a wavering tone. He sounds a bit uncertain despite it being a normal question and you blink. "No, actually. I don't have any classes on Wednesdays. It's my off day today." You pat down your shirt and move on your feet to help him tidy up the dining table -- pushing the chairs in, wiping the table, rearranging the coasters and clearing the leftovers stuck to the table cloth. You figure it is the least you can do for his kindness of letting you stay at his house for the night and making you breakfast in the morning.

Ran switches off the tap and dries his hands on a cloth hanging by the wall. He stares at your back and opens his mouth. "Can we talk-"

The front door unlocks.

You turn to the entrance with wide eyes and watch as it pushes open. You hadn't been made aware that Ran was expecting someone until Nobunaga Himeko walks in holding a bunch of stuff in her hands. It ranges from paper bags to recycled bags to a bouquet of colourful carnations.

And she is pregnant.

"Hi."

Himeko is all smiley when she sees you standing in her kitchen, wearing her clothes, and beside her husband who seems nonchalant about her entering the house. He pads over to her with a grin and kisses her forehead.

Your eyes look away from hers that are in thin crescents and shift your weight from one foot to another while picking on the skin around your thumb.

So it is like that.

"Love," Ran grabs the stuff from her hands in a hurry and shuts the door with his foot. "You're back." She nods and kicks off her flats, leaving it by the entrance.

Himeko calls your name in a soft voice and you look at her.

"It's nice to see you again."

She grins warmly and you return it without further words, albeit a little fake because you'd never expected her to be together with Ran, and she is pregnant with his child -- it is all simply too much to process and you take a deep breath when they both turn their backs to you. They whisper to themselves and you hear a bit of this and that -- just chatting about how her morning has been and he shares his plans for the both of them later tonight. They talk like you weren't even there in the first place and you bite the skin off your bottom lip when they continue to ignore you.

You connect the dots all by yourself after a while that Himeko was probably already home when Ran had brought you back here last night, that she'd seen you in a vulnerable state and all fucked up while smelling like disgusting vodka, and she's also probably the one who'd picked out your clothes and gave it to Ran to pass to you when you're awake.

"I, um . . . I should go." You blurt after a moment, finding no place for yourself in this house (damn right you don't -- this isn't your house, and you are merely just an acquaintance at this point) and you tighten your fist, the other hand reaching up to swipe away a loose strand of hair and tuck it behind your ear. Ran and Himeko looks back at your disappearing figure when you head back into the guest bedroom to grab at your dirty clothes. You shove them into your bag and carry it on your shoulder. While looking in the mirror you see the empty shell of a weak and despicable soul and you feel a panic attack bubbling up -- and you scowl to yourself when you remember your therapist's words, that avoiding your problems and past would only make things worse in the future.

When you exit the room in a hurry, Ran's voice boom in your eardrums and you try to control your breathing. "Can we talk?" Your flickering eyes glances back and forth between the couple, who are both donning a worried expression on their faces when you don't reply and instead breathe loudly through your mouth, trying hard to catch your breath and calm your feverish heart.

It'd just came so suddenly -- your panic attack -- and you don't know what for. Maybe because of the surprise from both Ran and Himeko being together -- you'd found out later that she'd harboured feelings first for the other brother back then. You'd also found out later that Ran used to harbour feelings for you way before his brother even did. And now the both are living together at an expensive apartment in central Tokyo with a baby on the way.

Or perhaps it is because the scene from 7 years ago at the Family Mart you'd worked in where Himeko had slapped you in front of your manager played in your head when you'd seen her just now, and your mind says that it does not want to relive the moment ever again; your heart screams that it does not want to feel the pain she'd induced on you ever again. And Himeko is scary when she moves closer and reaches a hand out to you.

"Please don't touch me." A lone tear escapes your eye and it rolls down to your chin. "Please. Stay away." The tear drips to the floor and you start sobbing while inching away and Ran is left dumbfounded at the scene playing right in front of his eyes. He does not know why you are so afraid of his wife who is also your childhood friend, and he is perplexed when he sees her reluctantly stepping back and rubbing a hand over her baby bump.

"What happened?" Ran is a bit furious when he asks it. Himeko stays silent at his question that sounded a lot more like a demand and stares down at her feet. "Hime, what is going on?"

She scratches at her head and you sniffle. "Nothing happened, Ran." You wipe your tears away and inhale the lavender in the air. It soothes you down just a bit. "I'm okay. Nothing happened between us. Just wanted to cry, it's all."

A big lie. Ran scoffs when you say it to his face -- it felt like an insult of you calling him stupid and Himeko is biting hard on her lip when you gather your belongings and walk to the entrance, but Ran is quick to stop you from leaving. He tugs back on your hand and you stop in your tracks when you feel the familiar warmth around your wrist.

"I have something to tell you."

"Not today, Ran. I have to go."

"Please. Listen to me. It's serious."

You try pulling your hand away and Ran only lets go when you click your tongue and hiss.

"Fuck off."

Fury engulfs your head and anger chains around your brain for just one second. And one second is all it takes for you to let it slip. Your eyes are wide, cheeks wet with tears when you realise what you'd just said.

"I am so sorry." You gasp, feeling so bad for letting the anger and hatred and rage you've been trying so hard to suppress all these years get to you and Ran is shocked at your sudden change in attitude. Himeko retreats back to their bedroom with a hand covering her mouth. You think she is disgusted with you, and you don't blame her for walking away.

Even you are disgusted with yourself.

Ran says your name again in an exasperated tone. His eyes are pleading for you when they look into yours.

"I have something important to tell you." He says it calmer this time and you finally give him your ears.

". . . It's about Rindou. Please listen."

Your heart dies at it.

It cracks loudly when Ran finally tells you.

And it crumbles to the ground when you'd fully processed his words.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A group of grown men sits in a circle. Another woman stands in the middle as she reads from a piece of paper. They laugh and answer her questions while she fakes interest and indulges them for a bit.

That's all there is to it, really. A weekly thing where Bianca Taira -- a white woman from the States married to a local Japanese man who currently works in Japan as a certified therapist -- comes by every Wednesday and gathers a few people around to sit in a circle and share things about themselves while having fun. Not a lot of people take her seriously despite her fluency in the language and how she dresses up really professional to show up -- because in the end, that is still a woman in front of them. Most of these men have not seen a woman from the outside world for a very long time other than a few guards and visitors, so they take every opportunity to tease and have fun with Taira-san, who doesn't reject their attitude harshly but is private when it comes to being asked about her husband.

"So, anyway, enough of my husband, please. He is nice and a good man." She huffs with a small frown but is quick to disappear it as she adjusts her top. It is tight and obviously very uncomfortable -- Bianca had picked the wrong shirt to wear today -- but she'll have to cope for now.

"Let's move on to our next question, shall we?" She smiles brightly and the men nod in agreement. She looks at the piece of nearly crumpled paper in her hand and searches for the sentence.

"Oh. This is a fun one." Bianca chuckles lightly and Minamoto, a man who is sitting in front of her, beams at her hint. "C'mon, say it already." He motions for her to hurry up.

She clears her throat and reads it out loud.

"What would you do for love?"

Everyone is laughing and shouting answers when the question comes up. They seem to have a lot of ideas for this one and Taira-san grins. Her objective for holding this session has been accomplished and she feels nothing but satisfaction when the men around her are genuinely having fun while laughing at each other's responses.

And to her, it is nothing but a simple and fun question. Prompts a straightforward answer too. Everyone does different things for love. Everyone is willing to do different things for love, and it would be really interesting to hear different people's answers.

Bianca attempts to calm them down with a laugh.

"Okay, everyone. Please calm down. Let's start sharing our answers one by one, okay?"

She looks around the circle. She spins and spins and spins until her eyes land on a certain individual who has been very quiet this whole day. Which is not a surprise, he is usually very quiet, too -- doesn't share a whole lot about himself and minds his own business when around people but Bianca feels that there is a little something hidden behind those dark, purple eyes. She feels that it is part of why he is so quiet, and she is determined to make him open up his shell.

She'll start from today.

"Haitani-san."

The man looks up at her at the sound of his surname and he blinks. "Would you like to go first?" She is hopeful when she asks it. He'll usually shake his head as a pass and tell her to move on with the question when being called upon, but Bianca finds it amusing when he doesn't do it this time. Instead, he looks back down on the skin around his fingernails that have been picked raw and he sighs.

"What was the question again?"

Bianca grins.

"What would you do for love?"

His mind runs at it. He thinks and thinks and thinks but nothing concrete comes up.

He shrugs.

And Bianca is relatively shocked at his answer.

"Everything."

The men in the circle around him grow quiet immediately when he says his answer. No one speaks and he fidgets a little in his seat -- he doesn't like that the attention is all on him now, and he regrets it a little for replying to her question.

Only one guy snickers and he nudges his arm.

Minamoto's face is red as he laughs at the man, "seriously? What? Like you'd even kill for your girl or something? That's so corny, dude."

He shrugs.

Minamoto is a man who'd just arrived here not too long ago -- he'd claimed that it was for something minor and he'll be out soon in no time, but he'd quickly gotten close to most of the people here because of his open mind and bright laughter. But the other men beside him are men who have been around for a very long time -- long enough to know that whatever he says should be taken seriously, and what he'd said is true -- and they'd be a fool to doubt that he is lying.

That he'd do everything for love.

He doesn't say a thing at Minamoto's tease and looks out the window to his right. It is gloomy and seems to be a bit windy outside today -- a bit too similar to what he's currently feeling on the inside and it makes his stomach churn a little. So he turns back and stares at Minamoto who immediately quiets down when he sees nothing but pure darkness in his eyes. It reminds him so much of hurt and pain -- and for once, Minamoto quickly gets the idea and his smile falters.

"Oh, so-"

Minamoto is disrupted by a guard pushing the door open and entering the room, a handcuff in hand and she clears her throat.

"Inmate 103, a visitor for you."

Mizobe stands up abruptly at the guard's notice. He is an elder man who is sitting beside the said inmate and has been friends with him for a very long time -- at least long enough for him to know that this is a once in a lifetime thing -- and he gapes.

"No fuckin' way." He pokes a finger into the younger man's shoulder while pointing another at the guard who is waiting patiently by the door. "You hear that, Haitani?! A visitor for you!"

He says nothing but stands up straight at the call of his inmate number. He shuffles over to the guard with a blank expression but no one knows that on the inside, he feels as though his heart is about to fall out of his chest -- it rattles, jumps and skips beat after beat. And he lets the guard cuff his hands together while walking him out the door.

"Who is it?" He decides to bite when he slowly approaches the visiting room. He has never been here for 7 years already -- just once at the very start of his sentencing when his brother had visited to tell him that he is never coming back here again. "Tell me."

". . . You'll see." She says softly and uncuffs his wrists with a key when they stop at the entrance. The door is locked tight and he is confused when she tells him to turn around. "As far as I know I am not allowed to see people without cuffs." He states in an uncertain tone and the guard chuckles a little at his puzzled expression. She looks around to make sure no one else hears other than the few guards who are in shift. They all smile at him.

"It is your first visitor after so long, so we'll let it pass today. Just take your time, with her. No time limit." She motions to another guard to unlock the door and all of a sudden he doesn't feel like going out anymore.

He hasn't had a visitor in 7 years. Not once in his how long his sentencing has been going on and to hear that it is a her makes his entire being falter. From being a quiet yet strong guy in his unit, he is reduced to nothing but a coward when the guard pushes him out the door by the shoulders and he stumbles a little on the way.

And his heart stops beating entirely at the sight of a woman sitting by a table.

A woman that looks a lot like you.

"Rindou."

The doors close behind him. There is no one else in the room except for the two of you. Rindou hears nothing except for the sounds of your soft cries while you waddle over to him -- they came rolling down your cheeks like waterfall at the sight of him. 7 years later and you finally get to see him again, and your body reacts differently than what you'd expected it to. Your feet moves automatically, closer to his body and his breath fluctuates, in and out of his mouth when your cream coloured coat makes you look so small and you reach both arms out to him.

The bright orange jumper he wears makes him look a bit like the mandarins you'd used to pick together back home in Kanagawa. You cry louder at it and look down to grab at his hands. You whimper because they are so warm when you place them both on your face. A sigh escapes your lips and you turn your head to kiss at his left palm, then the right and his lips wobble at your gentleness after all that he's done. Your tears wet his skin and they move swiftly without hesitation to cup your soft and rosy cheeks -- his thumbs swiping the salty away and you sob in his hands. You hiccup and he pulls you close to his lips to kiss at your forehead. He doesn't retreat and doesn't dare look into your eyes either when you pull away.

"Rindou." You manage to call for his name again after a while and he finally meets your eyes this time -- and he sees nothing but darkness mixed oddly with so much love in them. "My Rindou." The purple orbs you've always loved admiring at fleets and his heart stutters in his chest.

He feels so undeserving of yours as you hand it over to him.

Rindou is in agony when he sees your crying face.

There are no more bruises on you, but you are still in so much pain, and it is all because of me.

It feels like murder to have put your heart through this, and he watches with aguishness as you cry and cry and cry. Because he'd done it. And putting you in so much pain and despair are his consequences to suffer.

He drops to his knees instantly at the sound of your misery. He kneels before you and you cry even harder when he wraps his arms around your legs and bows his head against your thighs.

"I am sorry."

Angry tears fall and drips to the floor as he continues to apologise.

"I am so sorry."

Snot runs down his nose and you hit at his shoulder.

"Stand up, Rindou. I'm not mad."

And you really weren't. You just thought he was stupid for it; that he was crazy -- fucking insane -- for actually doing it and not telling you -- hiding it and leaving you alone to think he'd left and doesn't want you anymore.

He only weeps harder and kiss at your thigh through your pants.

You're sure the Gods are criticising you for feeling everything but anger and hatred when you pull at his jumper to try and get him to stand up -- he doesn't budge and you give up. You're sure they are cursing you to eternal agony when you kneel with him instead and hug him close to your body -- you rub at his back like how you always did when he would come to you after a bad day. And you're sure they are sending the Grim Reaper your way when you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and kiss on the skin -- you rub your face on his uniform like a cat and inhale his scent. It never went away. He still smells like the boy you've always loved. He is the boy that you've always loved.

And no sane person would ever understand you for being this close, this intimate, and this forgiving, to a person who had killed your father.

Only you would know why.

Haitani Rindou apologises to you first thing when he sees you.

And it is because he'd killed your father.

For you.

tag: @nana-osakii @idktbhloley ily

( ꒦ິ ཀ ꒦ິ ) thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated <3

(i do not condone anything that has happened in this. this is purely fiction)

[pokidot]

MANDELA — thirteen

wc: 734

Knock, knock, knock.

Loud, but not persistent. A ghastly echo that didn't fade, twisted branches scratching against one another as they resembled brittle bones. The cabin that sat in front of them was still in this sunrise, wood walls a statue in the cool air.

The woman, Kane, opened the cabin door hesitantly as her eyes made the rounds of the surrounding people. She was dressed in a long and flowy white dress that undulated in the little breeze there was, material hanging loosely as if it didn't belong on her body. You grinned in response to her confused aura, holding up Hu Tao's hands still bound together in the cuffs.

"I said I wouldn't disappoint, here I am!" You chirped, a contrast from the solemn tone you did have. “It took many…many sacrifices to get here right now, I’m desperately relying on that payola.”

Kazuha’s eyes narrowed to Xiao skeptically to mouth, ‘payola?’ to him, but even he didn’t know what you were saying. His eyebrows furrowed, sighing to himself in defeat.

Kane’s eyes moved to you, an empty gaze reflecting as if she couldn't fully comprehend the situation. You sniffed this out quick, because as soon as your smile went to falter, her mouth immediately twitched up to all of them. But it didn't seem like a smile, more so a reflex to you. "I should have had a lot more faith in you, I'm sorry. I don't have a good history with...college students."

“Spoken as if you’ve talked to college students regularly at one point?” Venti asked.

“HILARIOUS, OH MY GO—” Your laugh came out abruptly, laughing like it was the funniest joke in the world, but it quickly died down once you realized that everyone was looking at you now. Especially Kuni, with dull eyes. “Oh, uh,” You looked back at Kane’s eerie smile fixed into place. “It wasn’t a joke?”

“I don’t think it was ever that funny of one, if it is a joke.” Kuni clenched his jaw, “Why are you smiling like you’ve been practicing anyway, Tachibana? Are you even who we’re looking for?”

Venti looked rather accomplished at the very notion that you wanted to hit, putting his hands on his waist and tilting his head proudly at you.

Something about the woman unnerved the group, rightfully so, because it looked like she was mimicking an emotion she didn’t even felt. It was so uncanny valley to even watch, but you wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. “She just found out her husband’s missing, guys. Let’s keep our wits, now.”

“Could’ve fooled me, she looks like she’s enjoying the hell out of herself.” He replied back. “Seriously. Are you gonna let us in so we can see what’s going on, or are you going to make us stand out here like mindless sheep?”

“Yes, come in while scrutinizing me in front of my own house.” Kane’s smile twitched again, corners of her mouth trembling. “It’s hard to imagine for you, but I’d rather be anywhere than here right now.“

He would have believed her if it weren’t for the inane reaction and the fact that she felt like she was struggling to play a role in a play right. His violet eyes narrowed. “So…you acting like a nut job is your impulse reaction, or?”

“Oh my god,” Aether cried, covering his ears. “Stop. The voices are coming back, I can’t even hear my own breathing with how loud Andrew is in my ear.”

“Andrew better be anything other than Garfield, or I’m blowing this bitch up.” Heizou warned.

“See? He understands how this works. I’m halfway to taking the former.” And with that, his eyes scanned the area for any signs of foul play. “Fine, I’ll bite. But you better be telling the truth about his disappearance, or you’re done fucking with us and I’m driving a stake into your heart, demon.”

Kuni walked past her as he aggressively pulled Hu Tao with him, the two of them entering the home after he got in the client’s face and started telling her shit. You awkwardly looked behind to see the rest of his friends paralyzed in most likely stun.

Your lips trembled as you tried not to laugh, tears in your eyes from the sheer force. “That was so sassy yass gurl of him.”

“I thought he didn’t believe in ghosts..?” Kazuha asked.

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NOTES || *crickets* ... this storys been out for a year and its still not done chat, it may be cooked

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[eiflawriting]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧30

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨

(✧) ─ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘭𝘦' 𝙞 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦.

(✧) ─ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔! 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦'/𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘴. 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱. 𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙎𝙆𝙄𝙋 𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙉. 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘺!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 ─  𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭, 𝘮𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘯, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭,  𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘦𝘵𝘤. 𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭 ─  𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘰𝘸𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘦. 𝘪𝘧 𝘪 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘪 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(✧) ─ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔

𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘫 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦. 𝘪 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘬𝘺𝘶𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘪'𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪 𝘥𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘱𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘱, 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺? 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥. ♡ 𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙥𝙡𝙪𝙨 𝙊𝙉𝙇𝙔. 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝘿𝙊 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏. 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘰3.

𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑾𝑬𝑻𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑺 𝑨𝑺 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑶𝑵 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑺 𝑻𝑶 𝑺𝑼𝑪𝑲 𝑶𝑭𝑭 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑩𝑶𝒀𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫, Aran Ojiro—outside hitter of the Tachibana Red Falcons. You haven't seen him in almost a month due to being on the road for Nationals. However, you didn't expect him to arrive at your apartment unannounced at eleven thirty at night. You missed him dearly, wanting nothing more than to do the things you promised him on all your steamy FaceTime calls.

The moment you saw Aran, you dragged him by the belt to your bedroom to sit him on the corner of your bed. You felt like a fucking nymphomaniac. To think he couldn't choose a better time to come. Usually, he would be asleep around this time, so you took it upon yourself to masturbate to the explicit photos and videos he sends. And just when you were about to climax, Aran knocked on your door.

Aran observed you, enjoying how your plush lips parted around his length. You were sloppy with your head—he loved that. He loved how you did your best to fit all nine inches of his cock down your throat, producing gags and gargles. The amount of saliva down your chin and his balls was obscene. You were sure there was a small puddle underneath him, but neither of you cared. That's just how nasty you are.

He nearly felt his soul leave his body, trying to contain himself, but you were sucking him off too well. Aran was so weak for you. He had such a stressful day, and he knew that stress would be gone the second he saw you. His face grew warmer the more you took him in your mouth. His hand gripped the back of your head while he whimpered your name. Not to control your actions but to take comfort. Though—he would be lying if he said he didn't want to fuck your pretty face.

You swirled up and down while twisting his cock like salt 'n pepper grinders to continue pulling those husky grunts from his chest. Hearing his sounds of pleasure boosted your confidence and proved even after weeks, you never lost your touch. He sounded so fucking sexy with those breathy moans of your name, nipping his bottom lip while staring at you through heady-lidded eyes.

Those eyes screamed, "I can't wait to fuck the shit out of you."

All the cum Aran had pent up was being saved for your pussy, so he'd only allow you to suck him off for a bit longer. You began deepthroating him while gently playing with his balls. Fuck erupted from the pit of Aran's stomach due to the warmth of your mouth engulfing him. The vibrations of your moans tickled his cock, to which he reflexively bucked into your throat, causing you to gag. His libido was put on pause.

Aran felt terrible for accidentally shoving his dick in your mouth without warning. He pulled you off him to shower your face with soft kisses, uttering his apologies. Your sweet giggles melted his heart, but he had to ensure you were okay.

"I'm sorry, baby girl. Are you okay?"

"I'm good. I actually like how that feels."

He chuckled, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Well, you could let me finish giving you head."

"Nah, if you keep sucking my dick like that, I'm definitely gonna bust in your mouth. C'mere. I need you to sit on me."

As requested, you stood up to slowly pull your nightgown over your head. More precum leaked from Aran's tip from seeing how full your curves were. Pictures were one thing. Seeing it in person was always a different experience. His brown eyes were blown in awe. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, enjoying the feel of your beautiful silky skin. The moon made it no secret how captivated it was by your deep copper complexion.

Aran loved every part of your body. Those love handles he would hold onto when fucking you passionately. Your natural saggy tits, which fitted perfectly in his mouth. Your thick round ass, decorated beautifully with stretch marks that his hand rested on while cuddling. And let's not forget about that fat pussy that was currently dripping juices, desperate for his touch. Fuck, you're so perfect. Both inside and out. Aran couldn't ask for a better girlfriend.

Without waiting any further, you pushed Aran back with your lips pressed against his until he reached the headboard. You adjusted yourself on top of him while you continued kissing. After a few more smooches, you parted lips to watch your reactions from being engulfed in each other's warmth. You held Aran's cock to align it with your entrance, then slowly sank onto his length. Your brows knitted, and your lips held open in an o shape from the pressure of your hole being stretched. Aran watched you, eyes saying, "I know, I know…." He knew how big he was and how badly you missed his dick.

Aran was a lot to handle, but you loved how gentle he was with you. No matter how often you had sex, you always had to adjust to his size, and he wouldn't move until you gave him the okay. He massaged the small of your back with circles filled with reassurance as you lowered yourself until you felt that mushroom tip hit your sweet spot. Your back arched in complete bliss as you allowed your wetness to marinate him. Soft curse words aired past your lips. How were you able to handle this much for two years?

"How you feelin', pretty girl?" Aran whispered.

"Baby, you're just–you're just so big."

He held your chin between his thumb and index finger to replace repeated smooches. "I know, and you always do a good job taking me. Fuck, I miss this pussy. So fucking warm, princess."

"Show me how badly you missed me, Aran."

He didn't need to be told twice.

His strokes started off tender to become familiar with your insides. Aran did his best to prevent nutting quickly because he caught himself cumming the second he felt you swallowing him. Your pussy was too good. You both knew that. But he promised himself that he'd deliver your orgasm before his own. You come second to none—including him.

The low temperature in your bedroom couldn't stop the shared heat from spreading underneath your skin. Your sweet moans were like music to Aran. He'd never grow weary of hearing them. So smooth and pretty. Good thing you were in a corner apartment because you were sure you'd wake your neighbors up with your sounds of pleasure.

Though, this was nothing compared to what was about to come.

It was only so long before Aran thrusts into your pussy filled with passion. Rather than allowing you to become comfortable, his intent was now to have you cream all over his cock. He pressed his fingers into your cheeks to pout your pretty plush lips together, calling you his good girl. Saying how beautiful and sexy you are while being stuffed with his dick. You wrapped around him as if your pussy acted like a serpent strangling its prey to feast on.

You moaned loudly, screaming to fuck you harder and make you cum. You loved the feeling of being split open by Aran. He slammed into your wet needy pussy, going deeper with every thrust he made. The dick you received from him was a pleasure you had never experienced. He fucked you to please you. Not to get a quick one off. And nothing could make him happier.

"You missed this dick, muffin?" Aran cooed, speeding up his movements in your drooling cunt. He began pulling on your knotless braids, an action you loved, to see how ethereal you looked above him.

"I do. I miss this dick so much, baby. Fuck, this feels so good. I'm gonna cum if you keep fucking me like this, Aran."

"That's what I want. I want you to cream and cum all over my dick. You think you could do that for me?"

"Y-Yes. Oh God, yes," you cried.

He smirked. "That's my girl."

His grip on your braids became tighter while pounding you recklessly. The sounds of him slapping your ass to produce more waves reverberated through the surface of your apartment, along with your pussy talking to him. Aran's fingers crept between to ass to apply pressure to your second whole. He'd hope you take him in the ass one day, but teasing it, for now, will do.

You looked beneath you to enjoy how lust-filled Aran's big brown eyes were. To see how his full lips parted to pant and curse uncontrollably. Your boyfriend was so damn fine. Fuck, you just wanted to smother his face with your pussy. Coat his perfectly clean beard with your juices. Have his smooth dark skin glow more than it already does. Damn, was this really your man?

You swiped his lips with your fingers, and he knew exactly what that meant. Without halting his strokes, he opened his mouth to receive the long string of saliva coming from yours. Your hand enfolded around his throat, breaking free from his hold on your hair to crash your lips. The kiss was sloppy, lip biting and sucking on each other's tongues. You told Aran you were his and his only. You knew that. He knew that, but there was something about hearing you announce it that had his cock unruly twitching.

Yeah, that was it.

He was fucking you like a wild bitch in heat. As promised, you creamed on his cock that decorated your asshole and his balls. Your pussy produced gushing noises of it being stirred and obnoxious queefing. Aran struck your ass hard enough to clap but soft enough to not bruise. He. Stretched. You. Open. Having a fat and long dick that was used correctly was a blessing. Aran didn't even have to ask—you told him your pussy was his.

"Oh, fuck. Yes—Yes—Yes. Oh my fucking gosh, Aran. Yes, baby. This pussy is yours. It's all yours," you purred.

"I know, baby girl. Ain't nobody taking this pussy away from me. Fuck, this feels so good." You began jumping on his cock to meet with his thrusts, which pleased him. "Mhm-hm. Keep bouncing on this dick, Y/N."

"A-Aran, I love you so much. I-I'm about to cum. This is too much."

He kissed you sensually before nipping at your jaw. "I love you too, muffin. Cum on this dick so I can fuck my nut in you."

"Oh, f-fuck…" Your voice drifted seconds prior to you climaxing. The tension in your gut was loosened from cumming all over your boyfriend. It's like you saw stars while looking at him. You kept calling his name in this sweet dulcet tone that made him weak. Your mind went blank. You couldn't even hear what he was saying. Probably something along the lines of "I'm here, princess. I'm here."

He continued to fuck you through your orgasm until he reached his own. He admired your sensitivity to his touch, especially after already cumming. Aran moved his hands to cuff your ass to spread, wanting you to feel every stroke—every vein—every last drop of his cum. And based on how heavy his balls felt slapping against your sex, he knew it would be a lot.

You shared a tender look of sexual desire, but yours had confusion. How was it possible to be fucked this good? Why like this? By someone you love and want to spend the rest of your life with? But really, the confusion stemmed from you feeling another bubble ready to pop in your gut. Your mouth was held agape. Something was about to–

"Baby, I'm gonna c-"

"Cum. Shit, yes. I can feel it. I can feel that pussy grabbing my dick. Cum with me, Y/N. I'm cumming, too," Aran rasped.

"Fuck me–Fuck me–Fuck me, Aran. Fuck me."

"Keep saying my name like that—Y/N, fuck! Ngh, I'm cumming."

And just like that, he gave you a final sensual stroke before flooding your pussy with his cum. Your shared moans bounced off the walls of your apartment. Aran fucked his nut deep inside your walls until his cock popped out of your pussy. The noise itself was pornographic. After feeling his seed leak out of your hole, you let out a soft whimper. You relax your body onto his with your face resting in the crook of his neck.

How Aran massaged your scalp had chills running down your spine. He grabbed your cheeks to squeeze your lips together to place soft smooches. He crooned, telling you how much he loves you, praising you for always taking him so well. The act alone was enough to pull strings in your heart. You loved this man so much and were glad he finally returned home to you.

"I missed you, baby."

"I missed you too, pretty girl. I missed you, too…."

𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙. ♡

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 ── @dejwrites @maydayaisha @sailewhoremoon @ayyy-pee @violxtbxbyy @maginxlia @nova-siims @caribbeanwifey19 @sexbob-ombbeck @privateparty3 @comatosebunny09 @coconutxraikage @keijimilk @bbytamaki @softimgyu @sirenh4ll @adorabubblesblog @beniswife @violxtbxbyy @pablopascal @anahryal @sunnytalia3 @ittybittytittybby @isfleur @loveupeople @aiyaaayei @theauras @shiriiu @hoohoohope