#its hip to fuck bees

[elfqueen006]

Maybe I should write something for the Sauce's character, Briar.

I've been thinking of doing it like a regency era style reader insert but with Bees(tm) or just idk hooking a human reader up with a bee (shrinking 'em for the dinky). Idk what yall think?

[azinamuse]

The queen's song

[mr-3rr0r]

Bro said this to spite someone, but I won't say who. Also @the-hipster-nugget is back at it again with the amazing art!

[lokissweater]

you noticed me ⚾︎

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: megumi fushiguro is one of the best players on the major league baseball team, and when you finally spot him on the big screen after practically dozing off at every game you went to with your girl friend? you were absolutely IN LOVE, but IN DENIAL that he could ever like you back… but he does, and bad.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, NASTY NASTY MEGUMI, oral sex, SMUT, pussy eating in locker rooms HEH, mentions of drinking but like tiny just once, reader is oblivious to the way megumi wants her, DOMINANT AF MEGUMI PHEWW, cursing, flufffff!!, barely any angst, DIRTY TALK, pet names, aged up characters.

word count: 12.1k (IK IM SORRY ITS A CUTE ONE THO)

authors note: you GUYSSSS i love megumi fushiguro i want him so bad and i LOOVEEE this fic!! i worked like a little worker bee for days and i really hope it makes you guys happy :] MWAH!!

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

megumi fushiguro was the hottest baseball player you had ever seen in your life.

and you didn’t even like baseball to begin with, dozing off at every game your girl friend dragged you to because her boyfriend was on the major league team— but the one time you decided to open your eyes and pay attention to the big giant screen in front of you?

there he was in all of his emo glory.

number eighteen.

focused, half lidded eyes resembling borderline boredom as he waited for the pitcher to throw, his forehead glistening with sweat, flushed red cheeks, and his jet black hair slightly peeking over his forehead from underneath his baseball cap.

“my god—” your hand flew and you gripped your girl friends arm tightly, your jaw to the fucking floor as your eyes were gorilla glued to the screen, her quirking a curious eyebrow at you as she matched your frantic nature.

“what? what is it? who did you see? whats happ—”

you pointed your finger up at the screen, him swinging and hitting a fucking grand slam as he proceeded to get four runs with one hit, the one thing you knew about baseball besides a home run.

“that’s a— that’s a grand slam!” you pointed frantically, probably looking absolutely insane as you stood and screamed your fucking head off.

your girl friend laughed loudly, “you like fushiguro? megumi fushiguro?”

you jumped up and down, your girlfriend astonished and laughing as this was the first time she’d ever seen you energetic at a baseball game.

“he’s friends with yuji!” she yelled over the hollering of the crowd. “we can go to their locker room after and you can say hi! i heard he’s kind of mean though—”

“no!” you spun around, eyes wide and terrified. “i already know he’ll eat me alive then! i’m a loser, i can’t talk to him i don’t have game i—”

she rolled her eyes. “you’ll be fine—”

“no i can’t!” you shook your head frantically. “please he looks like the type to love bomb me and then leave me i don’t think i can handle that—”

she snorted. “are you sure?!”

you hesitated for a moment, biting your bottom lip as your eyes trailed back over to the screen, seeing megumi breathing a little heavy from running the field, his hands on his hips as he scanned the arena.

you sighed through your nose. “yeah i’m sure!”

“suit yourself!”

a year. a year you spent continuing to tag along with your girl friend to their games, staring lovesick and sad at the big screen over megumi, and standing outside far far away from the locker room once they scored another big win and not going in like you used to, waiting for your girl friend to finish up speaking to her boyfriend as you tried your best to avoid the chance of running into megumi.

she finally emerged from the locker rooms one day, a knowing smirk on her face.

“i told yuji.”

you blinked. “told him what?”

“that you like fushiguro.”

“no!” you gasped, a hand flying and smacking over your mouth. “please no im about to experience the biggest heartbreak of my life—”

“oh relax!” she grabbed your arm and practically dragged you towards the locker room doors. “he’s not even here megumi already left, but yuji wants to talk to you.”

“why?!” you exclaimed. “to let me down easy? to tell me he’s sorry on his behalf—”

your girl friend just about threw you in and went in after you as you stumbled, eyes blown wide as the air became humid and heavy, several of the players lounging about and refreshing themselves as the sound of lockers slamming shut echoed through the space— deep, broad voices laughing filling the room as yuji spotted you, his eyes friendly and polite. “y/n!”

you relaxed and smiled, “hi! you guys played really well today!”

“megumi also played really well today.”

“oh my god—” you groaned, throwing your head back as you spun around, heading straight for the exit.

“wait wait!” he laughed loudly, jogging up to you. “sorry sorry.”

“what do you want with me..” you mumbled.

he gave you a half smile. “i wanted to tell you that megumi’s weird.”

you snorted, “elaborate please.”

yuji threw an arm around your girl friend before continuing.

“you know we support your feelings and what you want…” he began.

your eyes narrowed. “why are you guys talking to me like you’re my parents—”

“but—” yuji cut you off. “i’m just gonna be straight with you. i’ve never ever seen megumi interact with anyone, let alone another woman, besides the team.”

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen him have a proper conversation with anyone on the team besides you actually…” your girl friend muttered to yuji.

yuji winced. “yeah…” he turned back to you. “back when megumi and i first got signed, he was really popular and a lot of girls would come up to him after games for his number or just to talk to him.”

“well obviously he’s a greek god,” you grumbled. “this is hurting me man get to the point.”

he sighed. “he basically scared all of them off. didn’t give a single one a chance and was kinda mean... he would either ignore them or straight up just tell them he wasn’t interested without them even being able to get a word in.”

you stared blankly.

“i tried to tell him that he needs to be nicer but he’s just not interested.”

you kept staring.

“that’s why i’m telling you this because we don’t want you to get hurt and i feel like if you try and talk to him he’s gonna be a dick and it might…” yuji looked at you sadly. “it might be a lost cause.”

you blinked.

“y/n?”

“that’s fine!” you squeaked, hands tight at your sides. “a part of me already knew. i read about it in an article, and i’ve seen his interviews.”

your girl friend looked at you with concern filled eyes. “are you okay?”

“yeah!” you waved them off. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“because your eyes are red.”

“ppffttt!” you blew out. “i’m fine! seriously. i never intended to talk to him anyways, i’m too much of a scaredy cat.”

you extended your arms out and engulfed the both of them, squeezing tight. “thank you guys for telling me though, i appreciate it.”

“y/n…” yuji trailed off.

“i’m gonna take off though, i’ll see you guys later, okay?” you waved and opened the door. “love you!”

and you scrammed, your heart in a million pieces.

it’s not like you didn’t already know. you knew, so why were you sad? why did you feel like you just got ran over by a double decker bus? why did you pathetically feel so sad?

this was the reality. you never stood a chance.

so why were you crying?

you continued walking down the hall and towards the main exit, utterly embarrassed at your sobbing and trying your best to hide it as you navigated through several groups of people, your vision entirely blurry as you were basically drowning in your tears.

you had barely escaped the crowd when you spotted a little secluded area in the lobby, trudging over pathetically and plopping down on the coushy seat as you wiped your cheeks, staring at the wall in front of you— a huge glass casing proudly decorated with the teams trophies and awards, gigantic portraits of the players on the team adorning the walls with megumi’s serious beautiful framed face right in front of you just making you feel worse.

you already knew, but regardless of megumi’s stand off ish personality, you liked it. you had curiously browsed his interviews and quotes in articles, and you always laughed at his responses, him almost every time offending the staff without even trying or knowing, and you found it so so funny, it only making you admire him and want to get to know him even more, even if it was just a friendship.

megumi fushiguro was one of the best players on the team in history, and as you closed your eyes, silent pathetic tears still slipping down your cheeks?

he never felt so out of reach.

“here.”

your eyes opened, but you literally could not see jack shit as your tears were still blurring your line of sight, you completely and utterly mortified that a stranger caught you sobbing as you wiped your face quickly in response.

“put on my sunglasses if you don’t want people to see you crying.”

the voice was gruff and lazy, but you could not care less as you took the sunglasses and settled them over your eyes, the lenses so freaking dark that you couldn’t see a single thing— your sight worse than before.

but it relieved you, as you figured no one could see your bloodshot eyes and therefore thankfully not notice you losing your mind over something so stupid.

“thank you,” you mumbled. “sorry.”

“for what.”

you felt the plush of the bench shift next to you, figuring that the stranger man sat beside you as you refused to look in their direction out of embarrassment.

not that you could even see in the first place.

“for looking like a loser.”

the stranger man snorted. “s’fine.”

you wiped your nose with your sleeve, sniffling.

“how do you see in these?” you muttered softly. “they’re making me claustrophobic i can’t see a thing.”

“that’s the point,” he hums.

“how come?”

“i get migraines everyday. they help.”

“oh i see.” you responded softly. “have you ever run into a wall because of them?”

you hear him huff out through his nose. “i did once, when i first got them.”

you giggled gently. “did you bleed?”

“no,” he spoke calmly. “i got a bump on my forehead.”

you snickered, “what? loserrr.”

you stood up and carefully tried to walk around a little, testing out how to guide yourself through the dark lenses and trying to be careful and not bump into a wall (which was literally impossible), your hands out, feeling around.

“jesus christ i’m just kidding now i feel bad. i think im gonna bump myself into a wall too so we can call it even.”

you couldn’t see, but the stranger man’s lips twitched at your comment.

“don’t do that.” he murmured. “sit back down.”

you listened and started making your way over, feeling him reach out and wrap his fingers around your wrist carefully and guide you to the bench, you plopping down on it once you felt it.

“thank you!” you responded sweetly. “…i’m actually glad i can’t see a thing right now.” you perked up, pushing the sunglasses back up over the bridge of your nose.

“why is that.”

“so i don’t have to look at megumi fushiguro’s big portrait in front of my face.”

the stranger man stopped.

“…why?”

“because he indirectly broke my heart.”

you heard a little audible laugh, and you smiled to yourself.

at least someone is having fun right now.

“how did he indirectly break your heart?”

“my girl friend’s boyfriend is yuji itadori. she spilled the beans against my will about how i have a crush on him, and yuji told me that he’s mean and he’ll basically bite my head off and tell me to scram.”

“did he?”

“uh huh,” you nodded. “they were trying to let me down easy, but it’s not like i was gonna try and talk to him anyways. i’ve gone a year without saying anything i can go on and on and on.”

the stranger man hummed.

“he’s so cool though…” you murmured, dazed. “he’s gonna be a hard one to forget about.”

“why do you like him?”

“i feel like im being interrogated,” you giggled.

you felt the stranger man lean back against the wall. “sorry, just curious.”

you copied him and crossed your arms, “mmm… because he’s really good at what he does. i admire that most of all.”

you tilted your head. “everyone berates him for being mean but i like that he’s supposedly mean for some reason…. he’s just serious about his profession and he doesn’t want to waste time. he’s also the hottest man i’ve ever seen so that definitely helps.”

the stranger man laughed a little.

“i don’t know,” you sighed sadly. “maybe i’m just demented. i am demented.”

“if yuji itadori told you the exact opposite about him, would that have encouraged you to go up to him?”

you sat in thought for a moment, but ultimately shook your head. “no. it’s too embarrassing for me and i’m also a big fat wuss so…”

you slid your fingers underneath the lenses and rubbed your stinging sore eyes. “maybe in the next life if i’m lucky, ill be reincarnated as a cool baseball man too and i won’t have to deal with this shit.”

“cool baseball man.” he repeated, tone seemingly amused.

“yup.”

the stranger man sighed. “is this why i found you crying?”

“maayybeee?” you dragged out shyly, your cheeks flushing.

it was silent for a moment, your vision completely black but his on your rosy cheeks, oddly staring that if you could see right now, you’d probably call him a creep.

“i’m sorry i made you cry.”

you jumped back.

“no not you!” you huffed. “have you not been paying attention? catch up man—”

you felt a shadow reach up and tug the sunglasses slightly away from your face, your eyes constricting against the bright lights of the hall as they tried to adjust.

and when they did?

megumi fushiguro was sitting right next to you, a tiny smile on his face dressed in all black with his teams baseball cap on.

your eyes widened dramatically and you slapped both hands over your mouth, beyond horrified as everything you had thought you were telling a stranger about him, you were telling him directly, your brain short circuiting and your body heating up like a fucking hot flash.

“oh my god i’m so sorry!” your voice was muffled, you shaking your head in absolute denial.

you immediately sprung up and grabbed your purse, slowly backing up further and further away from him.

his smile widened.

oh my god.

megumi fushiguro was smiling, a sight you’ve never ever seen during his games, practices, interviews, articles, or magazines as your cheeks increased in shade— wanting to mentally take a picture and remember forever as you knew you’d probably never see him smile like that again.

but he was smiling.

“pretend i don’t exist!” you stammered, “pretend this never happened i’m sorry this is so embarrassing keep winning your games okay and i’ll keep being an idiot far far away from you—”

“where are you going?” he chuckled lowly.

“—you’ll never see me again i’m going home and i’m going on lockdown—”

he laughed through his nose, his lips in an amused smile.

“you don’t have to do that.”

“yes i do—”

“you don’t have to forget me either.”

“that i definitely do—”

you were halfway out of the main entrance doors.

“hold on y/n��”

megumi stood, his long legs walking over to you and you froze.

y/n?

you slowly turned around, your face pale and afraid.

“how do you know my name?” you asked softly.

“your best friend is dating yuji, is she not.”

you nodded, eyes blank.

“i’ve been seeing you inside the locker room after our games for like… two years.” megumi mumbled.

oh.

oh that’s right.

you didn’t actually notice megumi until last year, when you decided to finally open your eyes for once during a game and that’s how you spotted him for the first time on the big screen in front of you, in all of his gorgeous handsome entity.

“oh.”

he raised a hand and pressed his index finger to your forehead, nudging you softly.

“dummy.”

“s-sorry..” you gave him a wobbly bashful smile, your cheeks pinky as you rubbed your red eyes.

his eyes slightly softened and he shook his head. “s’fine.”

megumi continued to stare at you, a stone cold face that always seemed to scare off the teams entire fan base, but only made you feel numb and giddy all over every single time.

you smiled wider then, and megumi’s lips twitched.

cute.

“i’m— i’m gonna go now.”

“do you have a ride home?”

you stopped. “no i was just gonna call an uber—”

he shook his head and walked past you, his shoulder brushing gently with yours with his hands stuffed in his pockets as you turned and stared at him.

he paused and looked over his shoulder.

“you coming?”

your eyes widened. “coming? w—where?”

he rolled his eyes. “i’m taking you home.”

“no!” you shot your hands out. “it’s okay! really! thank you thank you i appreciate it but—”

he stared lazily.

“come.”

you pressed your lips into a thin line and tipped your head down, taking tiny painful steps as you followed after him to the parking lot.

megumi led you from the public parking area to a secluded section around the back of the arena, one you assumed was for players and crew members only as you nervously gnawed on your bottom lip, feeling absolutely sick.

you both continued to walk down until you arrived to a private parking garage, megumi slipping out his keys from the pocket of his hoodie as you approached a shiny black luxurious car sitting neatly in a spot.

his car was really fucking nice, and you figured so being as he was one of the most popular players and probably had more than enough money in the bank— your fingers trembling as you gripped the passenger side door, settling yourself inside his plush cool leather seats and all black interior.

megumi pressed the ‘start’ button and his engine roared to life, the motor echoing through the structure as you clumsily tried to put on your seatbelt, your cheeks growing pinker with each passing second that you just couldn’t get the stupid damn thing to— click—

he reached over across the console and took the seatbelt from you, pulling it over your body and clicking it secure without a word.

“thank you.” you said softly, eyes trained to your lap.

megumi gave you a small nod and backed out of his parking space, driving around a couple of rows before making his way out with the night air softly breezing through your hair as he drove, his dash illuminated with blue lines that ran smoothly across.

“can you put your address in—”

“oh yeah!” you jumped. “sorry—”

you reached over and tapped in your address on his big touch screen, watching the way the gps registered the location and gave him the estimated time of arrival.

forty fucking minutes.

“megumi..”

his eyes looked over at you for a second before turning back to the road.

“hm?”

“i live kinda far from here and i don’t want you to drive the opposite way from where you live.”

you leaned a little, eyebrows pinched. “i can take an uber seriously, this is too much trouble i—”

“you’re already in my car.” he deadpanned.

“i’ll jump out.”

he pursed his lips, trying to suppress a smile.

“i have child lock on.”

“child lock?!” you gawked. “is this what you think of me?”

“you’re a little helpless… and you’re a crybaby.” he mumbled. “child lock stays on.”

you giggled after, your eyes shining and filled with mushy feelings for him as you nodded. “you’re probably right.”

he looked over at you then, and he smiled, softly.

“what do you do?”

you fidgeted. “h—huh?”

“do you um…” he ran his thumb over the top of his gear shift. “do you work? do you go to school?”

he’s asking you?

“i go to school!” you responded shyly but kind. “i go to a college that’s about fifteen minutes from your stadium. i usually go and meet up with my best friend after class if there’s a game.”

he hummed. “are you a big baseball person?”

you grimaced.

do you lie? do you tell the truth? do you roll down his window and attempt to jump out of the car that way?

you played with a strand of your hair. “i— i um—”

he raised an eyebrow.

“i— don’t?”

he cocked his head. “you don’t?”

you shook your head no, completely ashamed of who you are as a person as you covered your eyes.

“i knoww i suuucckkk,” you whined. “the only things i know about baseball are home runs and grand slams— which you did!”

you pointed at him excitedly. “last year! i remember you hit a grand slam! i got so excited that for once i knew what the fuck was going on and why everyone was going crazy…”

you fiddled with your fingers nervously, your eyes trained to the road. “i felt so included.”

he chuckled, and unexpectedly, reached over and gently ruffled your hair.

you then stared at him as he did so, doe eyes wide and cheeks pink.

megumi was truly just beautiful— his smooth face that didn’t have a single blemish on his skin shining under the moonlight, his black spiky hair peeking from under his cap that you had no doubt in your mind was soft and velvety.

you hated that you’d probably do anything for that man.

“i’m sorry i made you cry,” he repeated, you recognizing his words from before.

your eyebrows furrowed.

he was still thinking about that?

you shook your head furiously, “you didn’t! i swear it’s okay. i’m just crazy.”

he huffed out a laugh.

megumi thought you were odd, but in a good way. he thought everything you did was a little funny, as you were jumpy and clumsy and a crybaby and helpless, but he also took note of how polite you were. he noticed how considerate you were of him even though you were really upset, and you were kind of sweet… really sweet actually, your personality something that was totally different from the usual girls that came up to him.

well, the usual girls that used to come up to him back when he first started.

megumi pulled into your driveway and shifted the gear into park, the doors automatically unlocking.

you opened the door and stepped out before leaning down and peeking your head in.

“thank you for the ride!” you said sweetly, a cute smile on your face. “i’m sorry you had to listen to my confession against your will.”

he shook his head. “it’s alright.”

you went in to close the door.

“y/n.”

you leaned back down, “yeah?”

“are you gonna stop coming to our games?”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, your eyes darting around the interior of his car nervously.

“i— i don’t think so.”

“good.”

megumi watched you close his door and walk back a bit, him shifting his gear into reverse as the corners of his lips turned a tiny bit upwards.

“i’ll see you then.”

as you watched him pull out and drive away, his engine roaring down the street, you could not stop or simmer down the way your heart raced against your chest, so much so that you were afraid it was going to burst through your chest and literally kill you.

the next time you went to a game, you hadn’t told your close girl friend yet as she led you through the crowd and down to the v.i.p. lower level seats like always, a kind courtesy of yuji’s that he did whenever he could.

as you watched, you embarrassingly spotted megumi almost the minute you arrived, stars and hearts in your eyes as you watched him do his thing and work magic through the field with his absolutely insane batting, strong and purposeful as he barked orders or observed the opposing team for leads.

once his and the opposing team switched sides, megumi looked up as he jogged, his eyes seemingly scanning the v.i.p. front sections until he spotted you.

he raised a hand and gave you a little wave, and your eyes widened as you timidly, hesitantly, gave him one in return— your cheeks turning pink.

“who are you waving at?”

your girl friend pressed a cheek against yours and looked.

“who is- fushiguro?!”

you looked at her sheepishly.

as you recounted the story to her, her eyes bulging out of her sockets and screaming her head off every two seconds, her head snapped to the field.

“i have to tell yuji—”

“no!” you gripped her shoulders. “it’s literally nothing! he drove me home and he probably just feels bad for me.”

“megumi isn’t the type to make a crying girl feel better or drive her home.”

“it’s because he knows that we know yuji.”

“mm i don’t think so..” she scowled, crossing her arms in eventual defeat as she stared straight ahead.

that’s how it went for about a month.

you would come to their games, megumi would wave at you from the field or you would catch his attention and wave at him, and you would briefly speak to him casually just after his games, your conversations with him usually lasting no more than three minutes as he was often pulled by his coach or a crew member.

but even though the conversations were short, they were really nice, and the both of you never seemed to notice the people around you wanting his attention until he physically had to get pulled away.

but you still refused to go inside the locker room, knowing that was surely the place where you had to talk to him for longer than three minutes. you were too scared, embarrassingly so as you bid your girl friend and yuji goodbye from just outside the door before leaving every time, completely unaware of the way megumi would stare expressionless at you from inside.

when your girl friend invited you to the team’s yearly banquet, you flat out said no, decision firm and unmoving as she begged you over and over and over again.

“please please you have to go! you can’t avoid megumi forever!”

“what is the purpose of me going though?” you sighed, shaking your head with a smile at the sight of her dramatically on her knees over you. “for you it makes sense because you’re with yuji but what’s the excuse for me? i’m not anybody’s plus one.”

“yes you are,” she got back up on her feet and wiggled her eyebrows, “you’re megumi’s plus one.”

“bye i wish,” you mumbled, plopping down on your bed.

“okay you’re my plus one, or yuji’s! so he has two plus ones!”

she walked over and sat down next to you, resting her head against your shoulder as she sighed. “please come. you don’t have to talk to megumi okay? fine. but just come with me, i’ll have a better time if you do.”

you gave her a silly smile and thought for a moment, her sad tone swaying you as you finally gave in.

“only if you swear you won’t force me to talk to him.”

she nodded eagerly.

“i swear!”

so you stood there, nervous and biting your thumb as you frantically looked around, dressed in a pretty black off the shoulder mermaid style gown with a high slit exposing your leg— fiddling with your styled hair as you waited and waited and waited for your girl friend to come back from the dessert table with yuji.

you hadn’t seen megumi yet as you were trying to keep on a look out, because the moment you did see him all dressed up? you were sure you were going to start pathetically bowing for him on your knees in front of all these people and end your social life forever.

finally, she came back and handed you a little pastry, you thanking her kindly and taking a small bite.

“wait no!” she gasped, turning her pastry around. “fuck, i got the wrong one. i meant to get the vanilla one this is coconut.”

“i can get it for you this time.” you smiled kindly, her looking at you gratefully as you patted her shoulder, making your way over to the dessert table.

your eyes lit up like stars at the sight of it, grand and luxurious as any kind of pastry you could ever possibly think of was present— neat and gourmet-like, each adorned with elegant toppings as multiple huge chocolate fountain stations ran from the sides.

“hi.”

you jumped and looked to your right, megumi standing there beside you with a bored expression, clad in a polished black button up and slacks, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

you gulped.

“h—hi.”

“i didn’t think you’d come.”

he lazily picked up a tiny slice of chocolate mousse cake and looked at it.

“i was dragged by my best friend,” you puffed out a laugh. “she said i was her and yuji’s plus one or something like that.”

he nodded, biting his cake slice and swallowing.

“you stopped coming inside the locker rooms.”

you faltered.

he noticed that?

“oh yeah! i just—” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ve been really busy with school so i study right after…”

for some reason megumi eyed you carefully, and your cheeks grew pinker the more he blatantly stared at you as you fidgeted.

“are you—”

“fushiguro!”

you both turned your heads to the source, and you spotted an unfamiliar guy, one who you assumed was on the team with them, smiling enthusiastically and throwing a heavy arm around megumi’s shoulder.

“who’s this? i’ve never seen you talk to anyone besides us!”

megumi only spared him a nonchalant glance before he looked back over at the dessert table.

the unknown man extended a hand out to you, and megumi’s eyes snapped to it.

“hi! i’m takuma!”

you cheerfully took his hand. “y/n!”

“are you megumi’s girlfriend?”

you gawked, guilt and embarrassment already filling your body at the thought of megumi finding that comment uncomfortable and being uncomfortable because of you.

at his own banquet.

“n—no!” you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “i came with my best friend and yuji.”

takuma unhooked his arm and let it rest beside him. “oh nice! you know yuji as well?”

you nodded, “mhm!”

the rest of the crowd began to take their seats for the awards ceremony segment, and the three of you walked over to your designated table by yuji and your best friend, who’s eyes widened at the sight of you next to megumi.

you all sat, and takuma pointed to the empty seat next to you.

“is anyone sitting here?”

“oh no!” you smiled politely. “it’s empty you can—”

“take mine ino.”

megumi pulled out the chair next to you and plopped down on it, scooting up. “it’s closer to the front.”

huh?

“o—oh!” takuma scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “okay! thanks fushiguro.”

he only nodded in response and stuck his face in his champagne glass, sipping.

and he was right. you watched as takuma navigated through the circular tables before sitting in a seat that was right smack dab in the front.

“that’s really nice of you megumi!” you chirped. “he has such a good view now!”

“mhm.”

your best friend smacked a hand to her forehead with a shake of her head, and you looked at her quizzically.

the awards ceremony was the most fun you’ve ever had, as you were over the moon for all of the players that were awarded prestigious titles and recognitions, and even more excited for yuji and megumi, the both of them combined taking award after award that by the time the event was done, your table was filled to the brim with frames, medals, and trophies.

your doe eyes glowed over megumi’s earnings, pride and admiration bubbling in your chest as you took in the result of his hard work, feeling like he was the most talented person you ever had the privilege of knowing.

he stared at your enamored look.

“you’re so cool, gumi..” you gushed, not even noticing the little nickname you gave him.

but he did.

“cool baseball man?” he responded softly, referencing your words from when you first met.

your eyes snapped to his and you gave him the shiniest smile, nodding quickly. “yeah! cool baseball man.”

megumi looked down at his awards, and after a couple of seconds, picked up a shiny gold medal hung on a baby blue striped lanyard, holding it out for you.

“here.”

your eyes traveled down.

“what?”

“for you.” he pushed the medal forward.

shock crossed your face, and you frantically shook your head, pushing the medal back to him. “no! no megumi that’s yours you earned it—”

megumi rolled his eyes and held on to the edges of the lanyard, effortlessly setting it over your head and around your neck, the medal clinking and twinkling against your chest.

“i have four others. it’s fine.”

“no but—”

he carded his thumbs underneath your hair and gently slid your hair out from beneath the lanyard, setting it delicately over your bare shoulders.

yuji and your best friends jaws were on the floor, but you didn’t notice, too busy ogling over the fact that megumi fushiguro was the kindest person you had ever met, utterly amazed that he selflessly gave you something so precious. you.

your gaze trailed down to the medal, and you softly touched it with the pads of your fingers.

“t—thank you gumi…”

his lips twitched.

you realized then that the music had started and the crowd had already dispersed to celebrate, some dancing in the center while others mingled on the sidelines or hogged the dessert table.

and you spotted your best friend with yuji, the both of them smiling adoringly at each other, laughing and dancing— something bashfully wished for yourself as you grinned softly at them.

megumi followed your gaze, and he huffed an amused small laugh through his nose.

“they met at a party didn’t they?”

you looked to him and nodded, “uh huh! i was with her. she was so scared to talk to him and i literally had to throw her in.”

he scratched his cheek. “i remember. i was there.”

your jaw dropped. “you were?!”

he nodded. “and i remember you too.”

you sat there in silence.

how long had megumi been around in your life without you knowing? how didn’t you ever freaking notice?

before you could press any further, megumi squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to his forehead in pain, groaning softly.

you jumped, “are you okay? what’s wrong?”

he shook his head. “migraine. the lights are fucking with me a little.”

“oh!” you frantically looked around the table and around him. “where are your sunglasses? the dark ones the ones you ran into a wall with!”

megumi snorted and shook his head again, eyes peeking at you a bit. “it’s fine. i left them at home.”

your eyebrows rose, “you left them?”

he nodded and dropped his hand, sitting up straight and trying to open his eyes fully to seem normal, but his lids only dropped again and his forehead fell to rest against the table.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled. “just give me a minute.”

“don’t be sorry gumi…”

you figured the rest of the night was going to be like this, and if megumi stayed, he was going to end up dealing with the dull ache in his head for hours on end and not enjoy his banquet.

but you wanted him to enjoy it. this was his night, and you didn’t want him to spend it pissed off and writhing in pain.

“do you want to leave?”

he turned his head to the side and looked at you.

“we can um—” you fiddled with the medal around your neck. “we can go outside? or we can go for ice cream…”

you tilted your head to the side cutely, and you were oblivious to the way megumi’s cheeks went a little pink at the sight.

“ill pay though!” you smiled sweetly. “it’s the least i can do for the medal you gave me.”

he gave you an endearing half smile and nodded.

your eyes lit up. “really?! okay!— wait let me just say bye to my best friend and let her know—”

you quickly stood and walked over to the dance floor, megumi watching after you before picking up his black blazer and holding it underneath an arm, wondering how the fuck he was gonna pick up all of his awards himself.

“y/n!” your best friend gushed. “you’ve been talking to megumi for hours what the fuck is going on—”

you laughed. “nothing! it was nothing but i’m gonna go get ice cream with him!”

“what?!” her and yuji said in unison.

“did he ask you?” yuji pushed.

“no!” your eyes narrowed. “of course not i’m a big fat loser why would he? i invited him because he has a migraine so—”

your best friend hummed, a smirk on her face. “oh i see... use protection.”

“huh?!” your jaw dropped. “no! that’s not—”

“y/n!”

you turned and saw takuma walk over to you, a big smile on his face. “you enjoying the banquet?”

“oh yes! it’s really great!” you smiled kindly. “the dessert table is absolutely insane.”

“right?!” takuma stepped closer to you. “they go all out every year, it’s what everyone looks forward to.”

“i can definitely see why!”

he chuckled and nodded but then turned to you, speaking quieter. “listen um… i was wondering if you were uh— well if you wanted to dance? with me? y’know… maybe get to know each other better and then—”

yuji shoved his lips to your best friends ear.

“he’s stealing megumi’s girl.”

“i know!” she whispered harshly. “what the fuck do we do—”

“i don’t know!”

“well call megumi over—”

suddenly, a tall broad figure walked in between you and takuma, your vision blocked by his back.

“sorry ino,” megumi stepped to the side a little and placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you towards the exit. “we were just leaving.”

yuji and your best friend gave each other a low high five before their eyes darted around, putting on false ignorance.

“sorry!— it was nice meeting you takuma!” you called from over your shoulder before the both of you stepped out of the venue and into the cool night air.

megumi’s car was parked right out front, him unlocking the doors with a button just like he had done the last time, you noticing how all of his awards were set neatly in the back seat.

“oh i’m sorry gumi! did you carry these over by yourself? i was gonna help you—”

you sat yourself on his passenger side seat, the leather creaking with every movement you made.

he shook his head. “i had my publicist team do it. it’s fine.”

“oh okay…” you mumbled, still feeling a little guilty that you didn’t help him.

you went to reach for your seatbelt when megumi’s arm flew in front of you and grabbed the strap, pulling it over your frame and clicking it securely before his hands wrapped back around the steering wheel, just like he had done a month prior.

you couldn’t make out his expression, as it was blank and stone-like and not a word was coming out of his mouth as he backed out from the parking space, but you smiled at him cutely nonetheless and thanked him.

the nearest ice cream shop was literally down the road from the venue, and the drive took less than three minutes before megumi pulled in and parallel parked on the side of the street.

you both stepped out and walked inside, the shop colorful and vibrant as what looked like twenty different assortments of ice cream were on display, your eyes launching across each flavor excitedly.

“i haven’t had ice cream in a fat minute…” you murmured as you pressed your hands against the glass.

“me neither.”

“which flavor do you want megumi?” you asked him sweetly, your eyes still glued to the flavors that it made him chuckle.

“um…” he stepped forward and scanned the different colors. “i’ll take whatever you get.”

you looked at him and your eyebrows softened, “are you sure? what if you don’t like it?”

the corner’s of his lips turned upward, the sight making your heart skip a beat.

“it’s okay. i trust you.”

you ended up getting your all time favorite flavor that you never skip— cake batter, one that tastes different depending on who’s palette it is, and something you anxiously thought over as you gnawed on your bottom lip and stared, waiting for him to try it as you both sat on a park bench not too far from the shop.

“why do you look like you’re about to cry.” he snickered lowly.

your eyes snapped to his and you giggled. “i might if you don’t like what i picked out.” you plopped a little spoonful in your mouth, the cold ice cream melting and spreading over your tongue as you swallowed. “cake batter is a hit or miss for different people…”

he hummed, “how come?”

“it’s either too sweet or just nasty.”

“i have a sweet tooth.”

your eyes lit up, “so do i! i’m a big sweets person. i love love desserts and chocolate and ice cream… but i’m not the biggest fan of candy.”

“you’re not?”

“i love candy but not how i love sweets… and i wouldn’t randomly pick it out like at the store because i wanted to. most likely i would get a cookie.”

megumi liked how much you talked.

“have you always had a sweet tooth?” he pressed on, looking at his ice cream cup.

you nodded. “have you?”

“not really,” he shook his head. “i didn’t pick it up until i met—” he stopped. “…my dad.”

met his dad?

megumi spotted your confusion and continued.

“my actual dad disappeared. dunno where he’s at. all i’ve heard is that he had a bad gambling addiction so i’m guessing it had something to do with that.”

your eyes softened.

“gojo is kind of like my dad…” he mumbled. “he’s supported my sister and i financially ever since i was maybe five or six.”

“you have a sister?” you murmured, eyes big.

he nodded. “i do.”

he scooped a bit of cake batter ice cream up with his spoon and plopped it into his mouth, smiling softly. “gojo gave me a sweet tooth. he can’t go a day without it.”

you’d never heard megumi open up so much before, and you felt incredibly lucky and special to be the one to hear about his family and share a precious moment with him over eating ice cream, something you wanted to treat delicately and remember for as long as you lived.

“do you like it?” you asked softly, gesturing to his cup.

“i love it.”

you beamed, and he took in your cute smile for a minute as you ate some more on your end.

“i’m sorry about your actual dad… but i’m glad you and your sister got the support you needed when you were young.”

he nodded.

“did he encourage you to do baseball? or was it you?”

“he did initially.” he shook his head. “he was annoying at first, was a cheerleader at every game and was so loud.”

you giggled.

“but i grew to like it… and that’s what i wanted to do for a career. if it wasn’t for gojo’s funding i wouldn’t have been able to.”

you hummed, savoring the ice cream a bit before swallowing. “that’s really nice, gumi. i’m really happy you got the opportunity to grow your skill out like that…” you swirled the ice cream around your cup with your spoon. “what you have is a solid gift, and i would hate to see it not get the recognition it deserves when you’ve worked so hard to make it what it is now.”

you looked at him. “so i’m really, really glad that it does get it.”

megumi stared at you, face blank and a scoop of yet to be eaten ice cream on his spoon, his cheeks growing hot.

“i don’t know why you think so highly of me.” he murmured.

everyone thinks he’s rude.

your eyebrows furrowed. “i don’t think megumi, i know. you’re not a mean person, you’re honest and serious about the important things in your life. and if the medal around my neck that you gave me selflessly doesn’t tell you otherwise? i might have to kill you.”

he laughed, loud, his eyes sparkling. “you might?”

you bit your lip to refrain yourself from freaking out over his smooth laughter. “i might.”

you subconsciously rubbed your hands over your chilling arms then and megumi eyed it before he put his cup down, reaching next to him for his blazer and opening it up as he gently placed it over your shoulders.

you looked at him like he was the world then, doe eyes big and round and shimmering, and megumi felt like he could do anything with that look as long as it came from you— a permanent red tint on his cheeks that was entirely your doing.

“thank you..” you mumbled shyly, your eyes glued to your now empty cup of ice cream on the bench as you clutched the sides of his blazer, the smell of him wafting in your nose that made you absolutely weak.

megumi timidly, slowly, reached up and moved a strand of hair from your eyes then, and you looked up.

“pretty…” he murmured, dazed even.

his hand fell and landed gently on your exposed thigh from the slit of your dress, but instead of moving it, he let it stay there, his hand smoothing over your plush soft skin as he was completely entranced by your heavenly face, his body pulling his lips closer to yours as megumi’s breath quickened with absolute need the higher up his hand trailed up your yummy thigh.

you couldn’t say a word, he practically didn’t let you as his lips pressed delicately and timidly against your plush ones, his mouth moving so slowly and his tongue parting your wet lips for the purpose of devouring more of you, all while his fingertips reached and felt the side straps of your panties— the material alone making him erratic and desperate while his other hand gripped your waist tightly.

your mouths moved faster now, the sounds of wet smacking and lips separating to reconnect with more greed than before muffling your ears as he breathed heavily through his nose, his eyebrows pinched together in pent up everything as he finally had you with him after months of you avoiding him.

and then you pulled away with a wet pop.

“i—i’m sorry!” you covered your mouth. “i didn’t mean to kiss you!—”

what?

megumi’s eyebrows furrowed, both of your chests heaving as his cheeks and lips were blushed red.

he shook his head, “no i kissed you—”

“don’t cover for me gumiii,” your shoulders slumped, your brain so in denial that he could ever like you back that it tricked you into thinking you were the one kissing and all over him. “fuck i’m sorry… that was so disrespectful and— and weird of me and i—”

megumi’s hands slipped away from your body and he shook his head, his eyes dead locked on yours with his eyebrows pinched together. “y/n no you’re not understanding—”

“i’m the biggest creep on the planet man i understand if you don’t ever want to speak to me again—” you covered your face and leaned forward.

megumi stared at you astonishingly as he listened to you ramble apologies and dramatic insults for yourself continuously, his shoulders slowly relaxing and his lips turning into a soft knowing smile, your random speech starting to make absolutely no sense at all and his heart aching at the fact of how naive you were.

“y/n.”

you stopped. “what.”

he reached over and pulled your hands away from your face. “you’re helpless, you know that?”

“helpless and a creep.”

he laughed and shook his head. “stop it.”

he stood and offered his hand out for you.

“it’s getting late, i’m driving you home.”

megumi decided he would properly speak to you about it the next time he saw you… except he didn’t.

you started avoiding him like the plague again, horrendously horrified about what you believed you had done, thinking that it was better if you stayed away from him and fulfilled your initial task of forgetting him, no matter how much it hurt you.

you didn’t want megumi to ever be uncomfortable or experience what you believed he experienced with you. he didn’t deserve that. he didn’t deserve a pathetic little fan girl that never left him alone and hindered his work on the field, even though you wished so badly you could see him again, as the taste of his lips and mouth never left your fuzzy mind.

you kissed megumi fushiguro.

“oh my god y/n, you’re so stupid.”

“no i’m not! do you really believe megumi could ever like me back? no! absolutely not. i kissed him and i fucked up and that’s it. i’m staying away from him.”

your best friend ran her fingers through her hair and almost tore a chunk out in frustration. “it sounds like he kissed you! he had his hand on your thigh—”

“that was for stability! he—”

“no it was to feel you up!”

you shook your head side to side with your arms crossed. “nope nope nope nope—”

“y/nnnn!”

as for megumi, the next game he had he looked for you while on the field like he always did, looking forward to seeing your precious face and giving you a little wave… except he couldn’t find you. after the game, he went around the stadium and towards the locker room, inside and back out, the parking lot, his parking lot—

and he couldn’t find you.

this went on for a full three weeks of game after game nearly every day him doing the same exact thing— him getting increasingly more confused and a bit upset at your disappearance, going as far as to staying hours after his games still in his sweaty baseball uniform and cap with hopes that you’ll turn up.

except you never did.

and at the end of the third week, he had had enough.

“oh hey megumi!” your best friend greeted him, her hand fixing around yuji’s hair in the locker room after a game.

“hi.”

he stood there and said nothing, and your best friend eyed him skeptically. “…yes?”

megumi shifted awkwardly. “have you um… have you seen y/n?”

she sucked in a breath. “uh yeah. i saw her this morning.”

“this morning?” his eyes narrowed. “is she okay? why hasn’t she been coming to our games with you?”

“because—” she stammered. “well because—”

“is it our place to say?” yuji muttered.

“is it our place to know?” she whispered back harshly.

“i don’t know!”

“let’s just tell him!”

“but what if!—”

megumi rolled his eyes and huffed. “nevermind. please tell her to come tomorrow, i need to talk to her.”

your best friend gulped and nodded, both her and yuji watching the way he walked away and snatched his cap off, throwing it inside his locker and slamming it shut with his foot before picking up his duffel bag and leaving, not even bothering to change out of his dirt covered uniform.

“i’ve never seen him so stressed,” yuji commented.

“it’s because he likes her and she’s being an idiot…” your best friend sighed sadly.

so when she came to you the next day and told you megumi needed to speak to you, she amplified how upset he was to get you to feel bad and feel the urgent need to come to the game tonight, which you of course did.

and you were worried. so so worried and scared that he was finally going to tell you off for kissing him, to tell you that you sucked and that he never ever wanted to see you again in his life and that you were a disgusting human being—

but the roar of the crowd pulled you from your thoughts, the team winning once again as many began to pack their things and take their leave. you were completely and utterly shitting yourself, petrified and already heartbroken over the fact that megumi was officially going to cut you off as a friend when you hadn’t even had the chance to try and win him over yet.

and the way he played on the field tonight was way more aggressive than normal. he was louder, meaner, and didn’t take his eyes away from the ball or his opponents as he nearly got into a fight with another player, yuji and a few others needing to pull megumi apart and set him aside to cool off— the cameras and reporters having a field day in regards to him.

and that bothered you like nothing else. why the hell were they so excited over him getting angry? to amplify the brand that he upholds as the teams meanest player? as if they’ve never had a bad day a day in their lives? what was the point?

and it was all because of you, you realized.

you made him upset.

you covered your face with your hands and groaned, feeling like you wanted to cry.

“y/n…” your best friend patted your back. “it’ll be fine… he just needs to talk to you! you don’t even know what it’s about.”

“i can take a wild guess.”

she looked at you worriedly before picking up her things. “whenever you’re ready babe… i think he’s in the locker rooms by now.”

she left you there to gather yourself, and you sat there for a couple of more minutes before finally getting up and making your way to the locker rooms.

most of the fans had cleared out by now, and the sun was beginning to set as you passed and squeezed through crew members and news reporters, gnawing at your bottom lip as you turned a corner and spotted the locker room, many of the players already leaving.

just as you had reached your hand up to open the door, a firm voice called out to you.

“y/n.”

you froze, retracting your hand as you turned to look.

megumi stood there at the end of the hall, his baseball uniform still on and his cap dangling from his belt loop, hands in tight fists with his chest rising and falling, an agitated look on his face that you had never seen before.

“h—hi-”

“are you trying to forget me? is that what’s going on?”

your eyebrows furrowed.

“what?”

megumi took stride full steps towards you. “you finally talk to me, you confess to me, you disappear for a month, i wait for you, you finally show up at the banquet looking like the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen in my fucking life—”

he stopped in front of you. “takuma tries to steal you from me, i get pissed off, i fall for you at the park, i kiss you—“ he threw his arms up. “and you disappear again!”

your eyes bulge out of their sockets.

fall?

“you what?—”

“so i’m asking you again,” megumi bent his knees to look at you at eye level, his hands coming up to cup your pink cheeks and his face so close to yours you can make out the exact color of his eyes.

“are you trying to forget me? like you said you would?”

you fidgeted.

“i— i was doing it for you—”

“why for me? i never said—”

the feeling of his big hands on your cheeks was making your heart do backflips and trick shots as your wide doe eyes looked at him.

“because when i kissed you i made you uncomfortable and i don’t ever want you to be so i thought it’d be best if i left you alone—”

“okay let’s fix that right now,” his hands tightened slightly around your cheeks and he readjusted his footing, knees still bent. “i kissed you. if anything i should be the one worried if i made you uncomfortable because i put my hand on your thigh like that and for that i’m sorry.”

“no but—”

“yes y/n. i kissed you because you’re polite and you’re sweet and you’re funny, and you don’t see me as rude like everybody else does. and even though you’re naive and helpless sometimes, i like that you are. i like you.”

“but you’re megumi fushiguro…” you squeaked.

“so?”

“and i’m a loser.”

he laughed so cutely and shook his head, his pearly whites fully shining at you so big that it took you back to the first time he smiled in front of you.

“no you’re not you big dummy.”

he let go of your cheeks and placed his palms flat against the brick wall behind you, cornering you in as he let his head hang low, the top of his spiky black hair the only thing in your line of vision.

“i don’t know how else i can make you see…”

he sounded so exhausted, and your heart clenched.

“was it—” you timidly placed your hands on his shoulders. “was it actually you that kissed me?”

he nodded, head still hung.

“and do you actually like me? like— like more than a friend…”

“way fucking more,” he mumbled.

you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to contain yourself from screaming.

you couldn’t believe it. the megumi fushiguro, number eighteen, the most handsome man you’ve ever seen and the kindest one you’ve ever met… liked you.

“i could’ve sworn i kissed you..” you spoke softly, trailing off.

“you didn’t.” his voice was firm. “i kissed you and i put my hand up your thigh…” his forehead lifted to rest on the crook of your neck as he sighed a deep breath.

“i told— i told takuma to scram at the banquet because i got jealous that you were talking to him more than me. i saw you crying in the hall that first time we spoke and i recognized you and i went up to you because finally—”

he picked his head up slowly, eyes serious. “finally, you noticed me.”

he was so close that your nose brushed gently with his.

“you’re so dense y/n…”

megumi’s eyes flickered to your lips, “i’ve wanted you since the party.”

“the party?” you murmured.

he nodded. “the party where your friend first met yuji.”

your breath hitched as you felt his hands slide down the wall and snake over your hips, holding you tightly against him as the shock of his words made your body numb and tingly.

since the party?

it all seemed to click into place then, every single moment megumi tried to get you to look at him, to talk to him, in his own discreet way that you were completely oblivious to. and you were so fucking caught up in this fog of denial, that a person like megumi could never be interested in a person like you, that it made you push him away for the longest time without even giving yourself a chance.

you were so fucking stupid.

your arms slowly wrapped around his broad shoulders, the rough feeling of his baseball uniform underneath your fingertips and arms as you pressed your nose up against his shoulder shyly, feeling so incredibly bad for avoiding megumi for so long.

“i’m sorry…” you mumbled. “i’m sorry i was so oblivious gumi.”

you felt him shake his head from the crook of your neck silently, the vibration of his heart beating rapidly against you making you sweat and melt at the same time.

“don’t be.”

“i just—” you struggled. “i just thought you didn’t like me like i liked you and i wanted to respect your space…”

“i understand,” he muttered. “but i don’t want you to respect my space anymore.”

you held him tighter.

“and—” your voice was slightly muffled by his shoulder.

“hm?”

“i liked it when you put your hand on my thigh…”

megumi stilled, you playing the night he kissed you over and over in your head again like you’ve done since it happened— the thought making you nervous and timid.

he gripped you tighter.

“did you?”

you nodded, “mhm.”

megumi without parting from you, slipped a hand under your shirt and soothed his fingers over the bare skin of your torso, your breathing stuttering, his rough hand radiating warmth.

“what else do you like.”

you gripped the fabric of his uniform.

“i like… i like the way you kissed me. and how you touch me… like right now.”

your voice was so so soft, practically a whisper as he seemed to shiver under your words, wanting more.

“what else.”

“you,” you mumbled. “your body… your hair… your face… your hands… the way you talk to people.”

“you want me?” he murmured breathlessly.

“more than anything.”

“what else do you like?”

you leaned your head back a little and pressed your lips to his ear. “the way you play ball.”

he hummed, “you like the way i play baby?”

you nodded, your heart hammering.

he lifted his face from the crook of your neck and shamelessly pressed his lips to your cheek, murmuring.

“you wanna see what else i can do?”

“what— what else?”

megumi’s face remained pressed against your cheek as he let both of his hands now snake underneath your shirt and upwards, slowly but roughly groping the cup of your tits over your bra, feeling you up as you gasped.

“uh huh..” he pressed an open mouthed wet kiss to your pink fuzzy cheek. “‘cause i can do a lot more than just be your cool baseball man.”

he roughly spun you around and pushed you up against the wall, his hands coming back up to your breasts to grope you as he shoved and rubbed his hardened clothed dick against your perky ass, your tiny skirt riding up and revealing your pretty pink panties that made him absolutely feral.

“gumi!” you gasped. “s—someone could see—”

“i don’t fucking care.”

megumi buried his nose further into the back of your neck and your hair, him being a little pervert in the most delicious and intoxicating way possible.

he dragged his mouth up against your skin and latched on to the nape of your neck, sucking and biting sloppily against it as he marked you aggressively, no doubt in your mind that a purple bruise would follow soon after as his hands slipped under your bra now, pinching your hard nipples meanly and laughing when you jumped.

you moaned and whined against the wall, your body trembling as you felt your slick arousal slip from your hole and dampen your panties, choked up embarrassment coating your face as he shoved his fingers down your skirt without warning.

“you’re soaked baby…” he whispered. “and all because i grabbed your tits?”

“megumiii…” you whined, and you squeaked as he quickly slipped his fingers in between your pussy lips and pinched your clit.

“gumi,” he corrected. “fix it.”

“g—gumi—”

“good, pretty baby...” he praised, his dick rock fucking solid against your ass at the way his fingers slipped and slid in between your lower lips without much effort, both of your chests heaving and panting as your brains frazzled erotically.

the sounds of footsteps echoed from the end of the hall and you both immediately froze, a gasp slipping past your lips before megumi quickly covered your mouth with the same hand that was just fingering you.

“shh.” he kissed the back of your head.

if anyone were to walk in and see the sight before them— megumi with his crotch pressed up against your ass, a hand pushing your top and bra up, squeezing your bare puffy tit and the other covering your mouth?

they’d drop dead.

without another moment wasted, megumi uncovered your mouth and turned you around, his tongue darting out and licking the patch of wet on your cheek from his fingers before shoving them in his mouth, sucking up your left over juice as he bent down and wrapped his arms around your legs, lifting and throwing you over his shoulder.

megumi was freaky.

your eyes widened as he walked to the double doors of the locker room and kicked it open with his foot, turning around to lock them shut before walking to a corner and setting you down gently on a bench, his palms flat beside you on the smooth wood as he towered over you.

“is— is everybody gone?”

“long gone.” he nibbled at your cheek.

“but— but what if someone wants to come in?—”

he pulled away and got down on his knees. “i’ll tell them to fuck off.”

you panted as he pressed his hands against your thighs and squeezed, spreading them apart slowly with his eyes trained to your drenched cute pink panties.

he slid his hands underneath your thighs and lifted, bending you and pressing your knees closer to you as your back hit the lockers behind you, your hands gripping the bench for dear life.

“has anyone ever seen your pussy?” he gruffed, licking his lips.

you shook your head, embarrassed. “n—no.”

“has any other man touched you the way i’ve touched you?”

“m—maybe in high school?—”

megumi sunk his teeth into your inner thigh and bit you as you yelped.

“thought you liked me.”

“i do!” you sputtered.

“clearly not if you’re being a little whore and letting other filthy men on you.”

your hole clenched.

“that— that was before you!”

he stuck his tongue out and pressed it flat against your pussy covered panties, dragging it slowly and agonizingly up until the tip of his tongue passed and flicked up against your clit, the tip moving around and around your little nub as your thighs shook.

“doesn’t matter.” he let a string of drool fall from the corner of his lips and over your ruined underwear, your eyes fluttering as you felt his warm saliva ooze in between your lips.

“and what about takuma, hm?”

you tried to open your eyes. “ta—takuma?”

“mhm. he was all over you.”

you hiccuped as he wrapped his fingers around the straps of your panties and pulled them down.

“i—”

“bet he wanted to do to you what i’m doing right now…” he hummed. “would you have let him?”

he stuffed his nose into your bare pussy and inhaled deeply, your jaw dropping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

your lack of response caused him to pull away and bite your thigh again, harder.

“would you?”

“n—no!” you shook your head quickly, strands of your hair lightly grazing your face. “i wouldn’t—”

“so who then?” he licked over his bite mark. “who would you spread your legs open for like this and let them see what a nasty fucking girl you are…”

“you gumi!” you hiccuped. “just you—”

“just me?”

megumi finally let his tongue slither itself in between your folds, slowly running over your flaps and clit as your hole continued to squelch out your arousal, pooling on the bench beneath you.

“y—yes!”

he slobbered and spit over your pussy like a starved dog, his face glistening like sugary glazed sweets.

“that’s what i fucking thought,” he hummed. “you gonna try and forget me again?”

“no!” you shook your head. “never! i can’t!”

he gripped your thighs tighter as he absolutely violated your folds then, wet sloshing and slurpings filling the air as he spat and shook his head side to side rapidly on your clit, you squealing and attempting to snap your thighs shut in response, his strong grip not letting you even if you tried.

“i—i can’t!” you cried. “gumi slow please it’s too much—”

“be a pretty baby and stop complaining.” he ran his slimy tongue over your pussy entirely before shoving it inside your hole.

you choked and clasped a trembling hand over your mouth, tears of ecstasy spilling from the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut.

you whimpered and moaned and cried so pathetically, so cutely in his ears that he grinned as he pumped his tongue in and out of you filthily.

“you’re so fucking sweet—” he slapped your cunt and you jumped. “good thing i have a sweet tooth.”

your legs shook violently as you began to see stars, your tight hole clenching and sputtering around nothing as you felt your release approaching.

“gumi—” your hand flew back to the bench and you gripped it. “m’gonna cum! i’m— i’m gonna make a mess—”

megumi’s hand shot up and wrapped around one of your thighs so the tips of his fingers met your clit, his digits proceeding to rub and flick it as you climbed and reached your high, a high pitched scream echoing through the steamy locker room as your pussy leaked your sweet cum on his tongue.

you shuddered and jumped at the way he cleaned up your release and swallowed it, running his tongue soothingly over the bite marks on your thighs before coming back up and wiping his glistening face with his sleeve.

megumi leaned in and pressed a gentle loving kiss to your lips, a complete turn around from the feral beast you had in between your legs— you kissing him back with just as much feel and affection.

he pulled back and got back up on his feet, you watching him ditzy as he jogged over to his locker and turned the lock until it clicked open, him rummaging inside for a little before he shut it and came back with a fresh pair of gray sweatpants.

“put these on baby,” he murmured.

you nodded sweetly and took them from him, you slipping off your skirt and pulling his sweatpants over as you watched him bend and look over corners.

“what are you looking for?” you asked softly.

he perked up then and stuck his hand under a bench, pulling out your wet ruined pink panties and holding them up high like a trophy.

“oh my god—” you covered your mouth in embarrassment. “give me those!”

“nope.” he shook his head and walked over to his duffel bag on the floor, unzipping it before stuffing your panties inside. “these are mine now.”

megumi came back up and wrapped his palm underneath your chin, tilting your face up softly before planting a sweet kiss to your swollen lips.

“and so are you.”

and that you were.

you went on many many dates with megumi after that, each and every single one so incredibly lovely and fun, a genuine connection you felt with him and each other that you had never ever felt before in your life, absolutely enamored by the way he gently treated you and made you feel like the only one that mattered in his life.

your best friend was obviously over the moon for you, squealing like a maniac at everything you told her, and always teased megumi about his lovesick face whenever you came to his games or appeared in the locker room to help him change, sort his clothes, or fix his hair.

“megumi…” she snickered. “your cheeks are a little red! are you like— sick?”

he scowled at her and turned the other way, wiping his sweaty forehead as he watched you bounce down the steps cutely and onto the field after one of his practices, a huge smile on your face that replicated on his.

the minute you jumped into his arms, he peppered your little cheeks with kisses as you giggled and ruffled his spiky hair, asking him how he felt about practice and other things after he set you down.

without anyone noticing, a journalist was on the field, and at the sight of megumi fushiguro’s beaming toothy smile as he watched you run to him, they quickly snapped a photo and published it.

one was a perfect portrait photo of his shining white smile (that later became his signature picture) and the other was a photo of his arms out for you as you ran, the both of them causing an absolute uproar that altered megumi’s image from that day forward.

megumi fushiguro was thought to be the meanest player on the team since the day he got signed.

but when he started taking more pictures with fans, kind of stopped offending the people around him, signed more autographs, and smiled occasionally at the paparazzi— all while your pretty self stood right next to him?

megumi fushiguro was sometimes the meanest player on the team.

————————————————————————

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨His Queen✨

Short drabble I wanted to write because I am unwell for this man…

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: Your first time with the King of Hell, and he might be even more nervous than you are~

(I don’t even have a set up for this, I’m diving in head first like I would for Lucifer. This is just porn without plot 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Tag list: @trashbin-nie

@yellowsubiesdance

@j-jinxee

@stevensdickrider

@airwolf92

@mrssabinecallas

@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis

@bee-sinner

@thesoccerenthusiast

Warnings: 18+, smut, humping, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, p in v, service top!Lucifer

All throughout, the only thing that could be heard in Lucifer’s home was the sound of your lips crashing into his relentlessly. Your nightgown draped over his legs while sitting in his lap for at least an hour now, on his throne, no less. You’re breathless, your lips are swollen, and you can’t get enough. You haven’t pulled apart in what seems like an eternity, Lucifer moaning into your mouth as your tongues intertwine. However, you’ve become increasingly more aware of the bugle that’s growing between your legs. Ever so slowly, you start to rock your hips back and forth. Lucifer instantly freezes from the sudden sensation, inhaling sharply.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized sheepishly, “I didn’t mean…”

Lucifer cut you off with another kiss before you could finish your sentence. “Please don’t stop, love,” he whispered.

Blood rushes to your cheeks from hearing those words. You felt Lucifer’s hands travel down the sides of your body, stopping at your hips. You start rocking your hips again, eliciting such sweet moans from him. He was so sensitive and you knew it, you knew you could make him putty in your hands and that excited you!

“F-Fuck, sweetheart…,” Lucifer moaned, “this is…this feels amazing.”

One of his hands slid down your thigh at an agonizingly slow pace and you continued your motions. His hand stopped when he felt the soft cloth of panties. He tried to hide his small smirk from you, but you caught him. You knew the fabric must have been wet, and it’s clear from his reaction that he noticed too.

“May I, my angel?”, Lucifer asked softly. You nodded your head wordlessly. You stood up almost too quickly as Lucifer reached for the hem of your panties. You felt them get dragged further and further down your legs until they finally touched your feet and hit the floor. You resumed your potion, straddling Lucifer once more.

He reached down to press his fingers at your folds for the first time. You felt your face heat up, it was something you’ve been wanting for so long. Lucifer exhaled heavily, his painted cheeks flushing a different shade of red. You could feel his hand trembling against you.

It’s been a while since he’s been intimate with anyone, Lilith had been gone for so long. Lucifer had been so alone during that time, never pursuing another lover. Until you, of course.

Noticing his hesitation, you brought your hands to his cheeks, cupping his face. His shining red eyes stared into yours as you leaned in for another kiss. “It’s alright, Luci, take your time,” you soothed him.

“Thank you, love,” he smiled. After a deep breath, Lucifer finally began to tease your entrance, running his fingers up and down your slit. You grabbed onto his shoulders as if you were hanging on for dear life. His thumb found its way to your clit, circling it slowly. You couldn’t help but let out a moan. His fingers began to push up into you, thrusting them in and out of you at an even pace.

You rested your forehead on the crook of his neck, your cries were stifling and your checks were burning. “O-ohh my God, Lucifer, you fee-feel so good.” Lucifer placed his lips on your neck and began to bite and suck every inch of it. Your knees were becoming weaker and weaker, you felt a tightening in the pit of your stomach with every motion of his fingers.

But suddenly, Lucifer removed his fingers from you, making you whine in protest. You pulled your head up to ask why he stopped, but it became very evident. He brought his fingers to his mouth and began to suck on them. You pushed your face back down into his shoulder to hide your reddened face.

“Mmmm, you taste absolutely delightful, darling, ” he murmured in your ear. “I need more.”

Without warning, Lucifer scooped you up in his arms and carried you to his bedroom right across the hall. You always forgot how strong he was considering his stature, but it never failed to amaze you. Once he reached the side of his bed, he laid you down as gingerly as possible, positioning your head onto his pillow.

“Wait,” you said, pulling yourself upright and positioning yourself on your knees. You reached for Lucifer’s shirt and began to unbutton it hesitantly. Lucifer said nothing, only nodding, letting you continue your work. His face became flushed once more, you couldn’t help but smile at the way you made him feel. Almost prideful. Almost.

You made your way to the last button and gently push his shirt off his shoulders, letting it hit the ground. He was beautiful, his pale skin was mesmerizing like a marble statue. But he was warm, very warm, you noticed as you ran your hand down his chest. “Beautiful…,” you said to no one in particular. But Lucifer had impeccable hearing.

“My love, nothing compares to your beauty,” Lucifer sighed. “I want to devour you. Please, let me see you?”

With some hesitation, you reached down to the bottom of your nightgown to pull it up over your head. Your body now laid bare before him. You went to cover yourself with your arms, but Lucifer held your wrists before you could.

“Don’t cover yourself, darling,” he pleaded, “you’re the most intoxicating creature I’ve even had the pleasure of laying my eyes on.” He leaned into you again and planted a passionate kiss on your lips, you couldn’t help but moan into him. He pulled away, looking longingly into your eyes. But only for a moment. His eyes couldn’t resist trailing down to look at your chest, his face turning beet red.

“My eyes are up here, Luci,” you said jokingly.

“Forgive me, sweetheart,” Lucifer apologized and snapped his head back up to look at you once more. You chuckled and pulled your hands away from his loose grip to grab his instead. You placed each of his hands on your breasts, almost making Lucifer lose his composure. “So soft…,” he murmured as he began to softly knead at your skin. “Lay down on your back for me, love. I only had a small taste of you, I have to have more…”

You gulped hard, doing as he says. You untucked your legs from under you and rested your head against his pillow once more. You stared at the ceiling, too embarrassed to think about what was happening. You felt Lucifer’s sharp hands on both of your knees, snapping you out of your trance and forcing you to focus on him.

“Open up, angel,” Lucifer asked sweetly. Whenever he spoke like that to you, it was impossible to say no. With a shaky breath, you part your legs, exposing your glistening pussy to him. Lucifer’s shaky breathing echoed in his large bedroom. “S-Shit,” he choked out, “forgive me for this.”

Lucifer’s head fell between your legs in an instant, his hands resting on the inside of your thighs. You let out a strangled yelp at his tongue began to lick up and down your wet folds. Fuck! It felt better than you could have imagined. His tongue darted in and out of you, his lips vibrated against you and he moaned and hummed from lapping you up.

“L-Lucifer, f-fuck ohmygod!,” you cried out. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear,” he responded coyly. You could feel a smile creep across his face as he continued to eat you up. Lucifer took one of his hands and placed two of his fingers right by your entrance, it was almost painful waiting for him to put them in you. “I need you to cum for me, I’m not stopping until you do,” he whispered before plunging his two fingers into your ruined cunt once more. That alone almost sent you over the edge. He began to pump his fingers in and out of you, faster and faster, while his tongue tortured your clit. He continued at a relentless pace, never giving you a chance to relax. Your mind was beyond foggy, you couldn’t even tell him to stop even if you wanted to. Which you didn’t.

“Luci…L-Luci I’mgonnacumFUCK,” you nearly yelled. The tightness in your stomach was threatening to snap. You gripped his soft and silky blond hair as he brought you to the very edge.

“Promise?,” Lucifer responded while pushing a third finger inside of you.

That was it, your head snaps back and a breathless scream escapes your lungs. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train. You feel your walls start to pulsate around his fingers which refuse to slow down. Lucifer devours the mess your soaking pussy made while letting you ride out your high. You finally come back down to earth (so to speak) and are able to breathe again, beads of sweat pooling on your forehead. Lucifer retreats his fingers from you and takes one last taste of you from his now cum-soaked fingers.

“Mmmm, fuck sweetheart, never tasted anything more enticing than you in my entire existence,” Lucifer praised. You brought your hands to face to cover up your cherry red cheeks. His words never failed to make your head fuzzy.

“Luciferrrrr,” you whine playfully, “you can’t just say things like that!”

Lucifer chuckled, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, love.”

You propped up onto your elbows. Lucifer had straightened up and was now on his knees in front of you. Your eyesight trailed downward and it was obvious how hard he was. His cock painfully straining against his pants. He noticed your stare sheepishly looked away.

“Your turn,” you said as you crawled towards him, only stopping an inch away from the large bulge he had in his pants. It lit a fire in you. It was his turn to be devoured.

“Y-You don’t have to do that, hon, I’m alr-”

You cut him off by placing your hand on his clothed cock. Lucifer immediately tensed up. “You’re right, I don’t have to,” you said looking up at him with ravenous eyes, “but I want to.” You heard Lucifer audibly gulp. “On your back, Luci,” you coerced.

Lucifer nodded and did as you said. He made his way to his pillow and laid down, holding his breath. You began your ascent, crawling and hovering over him. He looked so adorable beneath you. Your hands made their way to his belt, pulling it off in a flash with a clank to the floor. The button and zipper were next. Carefully you undid both with ease. You reached for the hem of his white pants and eased them down his legs. All that remained were his briefs. And my God, they left little to the imagination.

It didn’t occur to you until just now that you’ve never seen Lucifer’s dick before. It drove you wild just seeing the outline of it. He was huge. You bit down on your lip without thinking, Lucifer looked away from you in embarrassment. It was then that you noticed the large wet spot on his briefs from his leaking tip. He was an absolute mess, all because of you. A wonderful sight to behold, for sure.

You couldn’t wait any longer. You reached up to pull down his briefs, setting his cock free at last. It was impossible to look away, you knew you had to eat him up immediately. His dick continued to leak precum onto his stomach, Lucifer’s hands gripped the sheets beneath him as he watched you inch closer and closer to his cock. You placed your hands on either side of it, massaging everything around the one area he needed you to touch. He bucked his hips up at your touch impatiently.

“Please,” you heard Lucifer beg, “pleasepleaseplease!” The sounds of his desperate pleas sent waves of pleasure through your body, it drove you mad. Not wanting to torture him any longer, you took ahold of his cock and placed his tip into your hot mouth. You heard a broken moan escape from him as you lapped and sucked on the head, licking up every drop of precum that had leaked out. It was salty, but you didn’t mind. He tasted divine.

You began to bob your head up and down on his shaft, taking in as much of him as you possibly could. You knew you would choke otherwise. Your one hand remained on his hip to keep him from bucking up into your month while the other hand pumped his cock in tandem with your mouth. You figured it might be fruitless to try and hold him down since he could overpower you in an instant, but you knew he wouldn’t ever hurt you.

You saw that he was unraveling quickly, but you didn’t want this to end so soon. His staggered breathing and wanton moans were music to your ears, you’d do anything to keep hearing them. You trailed a long lick up from the base of his shaft to the head were you peppered a few kisses. One of Lucifer’s hands flew to his mouth to keep himself from being any louder than he already was while the other white-knuckled the bed sheets. It was an absolute dream to see the King of Hell be undone by you.

You felt him throbbing in your mouth, you knew he was close. But all of a sudden, two hands flew to your shoulders to push you off. “Wait, wait, wait!,” he pleaded as you let go of him completely.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?,” you asked ashamed.

“No, no! Of course not,” he reassured you, placing a hand under your chin. “You…fuck, you felt so good, my love. But…”

You didn’t even know what happened until you were on your back now looking up at Lucifer hovered above you. You noticed his eyes had turned a haunting red and yellow, with black slit irises piecing your soul. His horns had burst from his head with torn flesh wrapped around the base of each, adorning his snake-shaped halo with a burning flame below it. His angelic wings sprouted out from his back, enveloping the entire bed in shadow. His tail had popped out as well, whipping back and forth behind him as if he were a predator on the hunt. You were his prey.

“I’m having a really hard time keeping it together, darling,” he spoke quietly, almost ashamed at his lack of control. His more demonic form caught you off guard, but you weren’t afraid. You smiled at him, reassuring that you were alright. He smiled back, showing off his large sharp teeth. It made you shiver. God, you wanted him. And you wanted him now.

“I-I need…shit…c-can I…,” Lucifer fumbled over his words, struggling to form a coherent sentence. You cupped his face in you hands and planted a soft kiss on his lips. You reached one hand up to stroke one of his wings, curiosity getting the better of you. You could have sworn it was the softest thing you’ve ever felt, you were entranced. Lucifer let out a low hum, his wing leaning into your gentle touch.

“Yes, you can, Lucifer,” you murmured into his lips. “Fuck me now, please, I need you…”

His composure broke completely. His lips crashed into yours with a vigorous force. You wrapped your hands around his neck to bring him as close to you as he could possibly get. You felt the head of his cock graze your entrance. You whimpered at the sensation. Lucifer looked at you expectantly, only for you to silently nod your head.

All you felt next was his cock sliding into your pussy until he was fully sheathed inside of you. It took a few seconds to remember how to breathe again. He stretched you out, filling up every inch of you completely. Lucifer couldn’t help but bite down on your shoulder, desperately trying not to cum right then and there. After only a moment or two of getting used to his size, your body started to relax around him.

“Please move, Luci,” you moaned.

Lucifer retracted the grip his teeth he had on your shoulder and placed his forehead onto yours. Ever so slowly, he started to shift his hips, taking his cock out just to pump it back into you at a rhythmic speed. But of course it didn’t take long for him to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming more and more staggered and uneven.

You could have sworn you were seeing stars. Or perhaps it was the light bouncing off the tears forming in your eyes. It was a pleasure you’ve never felt before. You felt whole. That new knot in your stomach was tightening once again, and was threatening to release with more force than before.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Lucifer whispered, clenching his teeth and screwing his eyes tight. “Gonna cum, love…gonna cum, FUCKFUCKFUCK!”

Quickly you wrapped your legs around his waist, making sure he stayed in place. “M-me too, sshhhiiit,” you managed to choke out. “Cum in me, pleasepleasepleasecuminmeLucifer!”

Those words made him incoherent. He held your hips down as he thrusted into hard and fast. At last, you felt him throbbing inside of you, emptying his load into your waiting cunt. You screamed as that sensation pushed you over the edge as well, your newly painted white walls pulsating on his cock.

Both of you could hardly catch your breath, your orgasms finally fading away. He stayed inside of you for only a minute longer before pulling out. Your body mourned that sensation already. Lucifer fell down next to you in the bed, his demon form receding. You watched as his chest rose and fell at a slow and even pace. He turned towards you and smiled, he tucked some hair behind your ear that had fallen in your face.

“Thank you for that, my angel,” he spoke softly. “You were perfect.”

You couldn’t help but smile. You scooted your body closer to him, nuzzling yourself into his chest. Still so warm. “No,” you said, “thank you, Lucifer. That was heavenly…no pun intended!”

He chuckled. “Funny you say that considering where we are, my little duckling.” He grabbed you by the waist and ever so gently placed your body on top of his. He let his wings spread once more, wrapping them and his arms around you in a soft and tender embrace. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

You smile and gave Lucifer one last small peck on the lips before your body collapsed from exhaustion. “I love you more, my king.”

~~~~~

I’m not seeing the pearly gates after this one, lads!!

But please let me know what you think of my very first NSFW fic, I was nervous about writing about something I’m not well versed in 😅

I had fun though and that’s what matters!

[kitzenvoncatzen]

how did i not know there was such a fierce debate on beekeeping of all things...?

vegans make peace with honey

no shut up do it

[romypearl]

The Queen's Pawn - Regina George/Oblivious!Reader

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

Summary: Everyone is interested and obsessed with Regina George, after all, she is the queen of the North Shore, so why does Y/N barely look at her? The new student, oblivious to her existence, intrigues and irritates the blonde at the same time. And she doesn't know how to deal with it.

Classification: Fluff

Warnings: None, for now

Word count: +1400

Unrevised

She's boring.

Very annoying.

A total waste of time.

Sometimes seems to live on Mars.

And Regina George doesn't know why she wants to get her attention so badly.

When their gazes met a few weeks earlier in the cafeteria and Y/N greeted her as if she were any other human, well, the blonde has to admit that she felt her stomach lurch into an unfamiliar sensation and all the air being knocked out of her lungs. She had never seen her in North Shore, nor in the city, and it was annoyingly difficult to discreetly find out anything about the new student, after all, she never shows interest in anyone, it's always the other way around. However, as fate would have it, she soon found out that they shared some classes. That's how she knew her name, age, that she's not from Evanston and is very close to fucking Janis 'Imi'ike, with hands intertwined as they cross the tumultuous corridors and play with each other's hair, telling inside jokes. Damn it, it's only the third week and they're joined at the hip. And she's never looked at or waved to Regina in the same way, most of the time she seems almost oblivious to her existence.

The tray seems more interesting than the latest random conversation at the table, she plays with the scattered French fries and sips the diet coke. Thoughts wander far away, full of memories and expectations too, she hasn't seen her all day, soon it will be their shared lesson and she can't stop thinking about the reasons for her absence. If something serious has happened, if she's sick or... skipping class to make out with someone, which is something almost everyone does. But with whom?

Loud laughter breaks her trance, Damian tries to hold back a laugh while Janis hugs Y/N and has a hand over her mouth, trying to stop her from laughing any louder, even though she can't stop herself. The trio are walking to their usual table, ignoring everyone around them. It annoys her to the bone, how easy it is for them to get her attention, to make her laugh. Suddenly, the newbie turns her face in their direction and she could swear she felt her heart stop beating for a millisecond only to start beating 10 times faster, watching her break away from the group and walk towards the Plastics.

"Hi, girls!" she greeted the four with a wave of a hand, ignoring their lack of response, and opened a wide smile, which surprised them with its "boldness". For a moment the blonde thought Y/N would turn and speak directly to her, try to get closer, to have her attention, but she turned to Heron and squatted down, handing over a book, dozens of post-its marking the pages "Here it is, I made some notes and the colors of the bookmarks are my reactions. Hopefully you'll like it as much as I do."

"Thanks! I'll get back to you as soon as I've finished." Cady appreciates it and returns the warm smile, however, the queen bee doesn't miss her cheeks blushing slightly at the brief interaction, making her roll her eyes in disgust "I couldn't find any other copies..."

Regina watches with a mixture of disdain and envy, Y/N should be paying attention to her and only her, not some worthless girl who has just ascended the high school social hierarchy. At the same time, her anxiety barely lets her think, she has never been so close before, she can smell the floral perfume permeating the atmosphere and see the small details of the skin she longs to touch. But there is something she longs for more than that, and that is to get her away from Cady, to make it clear that she is superior and in control.

"You know, Cady, it's admirable that you're willing to sacrifice your free time to make a library rat feel validated." she cuts in, throwing out a biting comment, a forced smile plastered on her face and blue eyes directed at Y/N "But, frankly, I think she should spend less time with books and more learning how to dress without looking like a single 40-year-old librarian."

The sharp words echo through the cafeteria, leaving an uncomfortable silence in the air and all the cliques watching the scene unfold. The girl frowns, surprised and confused by the sudden hostility, and her smile falters. She really can't understand the reason for the gratuitous verbal aggression, she hasn't done anything to deserve such treatment, not even talked to anyone other than one person there before. Her friends didn't give her the same hierarchical speech and tips that they gave Heron, because, unlike her, they didn't see any potential in the other new student to stand out in Regina's eyes and quickly knew that it wouldn't do much good considering how oblivious she is, as well as how indifferent to groups she is. A being apart from the jungle of hormonal teenagers in search of social status.

Nobody expects her to respond, in fact, they believe the opposite will happen. They expect to see a puppy running around with its tail between the legs. Regina feels the temporary taste of triumph in her mouth and waits for her to turn around.

"And you should spend less time dressing up for Coachella and more time studying history, maybe then you'll get at least a C on an elementary school exam." Y/N shrugged and turned to her new friend "Tell me what you thought of the book..."

The beginning-of-semester test that the history teacher always gives to check the students' knowledge. It's this test that she's referring to, which Regina got an embarrassing F in, although it doesn't really bother her as it doesn't count as a formal grade. In contrast to her, the youngest scored an A+ and quickly excelled in the subject.

Another time, with someone else, the blonde was going to kill with one look. This time, to everyone's shock, she throws herself back in her chair and laughs out loud, head thrown back. It's genuine. Her kitten has sharp claws and knows how to use them. She hadn't imagined that the quiet, peaceful and compassionate Y/L/N could strike back at her, with her harmless appearance and silly expressions. It's little discoveries that make everything more fun.

Regina recovers and tilts her head slightly, lips curving into a subtle smile as she stares deeply at her, challenging. She's got the newbie's attention, as she's wanted for weeks, and now that she has it, it's time to put the pieces on the table, time to play.

"Oh, I see you know how to defend yourself. Well, princess, you should know that's not how people dress for Coachella. And that I don't need to prove myself in a stupid questionnaire." then leans over so that they're centimeters apart and whispers, "Now, if I teach you, maybe you'll learn something more interesting than history..."

The bait is thrown, a flirtatious double entendre in the middle of a cold discussion.

"I don't think there's anything you can teach me that I want to learn."

Once again, she has an answer on the tip of her tongue and isn't afraid to answer the queen bee straight. Y/N smiles and says goodbye to the group, turning her back to go to her own table, she's starving and can't wait to devour the pizza bought moments before. That's more important than arguing with a stranger over lunch. All that's left for Regina to do is watch her walk away and strategize how to keep the girl at arm's length.

It wasn't the quick and blunt answers or the fearless demeanor that captivated her, nor the appearance, she doesn't consider jeans and cute knitted cardigans anything special, much less the ridiculous Star Trek t-shirts worn in PE. She desperately wants to find out what it is, maybe then she'll stop being drawn like a moth to the light. When the newbie has disappeared into the crowd, Regina turns her attention back to her own table, where her friends are sitting in silence, too stunned to comment anything. Neither was she. The idea of leaving Y/N at her feet to stroke the ego and then despise her like she does everyone else is too pleasurable.

She sighs heavily and without thinking twice takes the book from Cady's hands, staring at the title with contempt. It's a beginning.

On the other side, Janis smiles to herself and exchanges a look with Damian, both coming to a conclusion quickly. In Regina George's game, they've always wanted to be ahead and finally they have the right pawn to do it.

Note: Hi, sweeties! I'm Romy and started writing again recently, that's why I'm a little rusty. Hope you enjoyed part one and see you soon in the sequel ^^ please share what you want to read and any ideas for this short fanfic, or one shots

english isn't my first language

[bugboybuck]

boys will be bugs, right.

read on ao3

Evan turns up at Tommy's door on a morning Tommy wasn't expecting him with a manic look in his eyes. Tommy - who'd been dragged out of bed by the doorbell, still wiping sleep out of his eyes - doesn't immediately know what to make of his expression. It's never a bad thing to see his boyfriend unexpectedly; in fact, if Tommy had his way, he'd see Evan all the time. But he's also not a sucker, and he knows that when a guy like Evan looks at you all pink-cheeked and dimpled, you're at risk of being talked into some of the dumbest decisions of your life.

"Hey, baby," Tommy greets him, trying not to sound wary. "Did I forget a breakfast date? I'm still kind of out of it from my shift."

"No, you didn't forget," Evan tells him, leaning in for a kiss. It's a sign of what a simple man Tommy is that the press of Evan's warm pink lips and the smell of him all close, the feel of one of his thick hands sliding onto Tommy's waist, is enough to distract him for a solid ten seconds, even when Evan pulls back and says, "Sorry, did I wake you? I just need to measure some stuff in your back yard."

He squeezes Tommy's hip and kisses him once more and then pushes past him, heading right for the kitchen, where the door to Tommy's back yard sits.

"I've been meaning to get you a key cut so you can just let yourself in," Tommy says, more to himself than to Evan, who doesn't seem to have heard him anyway. Brain still getting online, Tommy closes the front door, makes to follow Evan - and only then processes the next part of Evan's statement. "Wait, what about my back yard?"

Evan's already bounced out the back door. Tommy briefly regrets getting a boyfriend ten years younger than him with a seemingly endless well of energy like a puppy. He rubs his eyes, presses the button to turn on the coffee machine, and then follows Evan out the door.

Tommy's proud of his back yard. He doesn't have the time to garden much, but he has a little planter of herbs, which Evan has been delighted by ever since he first came here and now cooks with on every possible occasion - he has a nice spread of lawn which is good for hosting barbecues, one large tree which casts a dozy shade from the sun. Most pleasingly to Tommy, the yard stretches around both sides of the house, putting him a decent distance away from his neighbours. The house itself is small, a one-story, two-bedroom Spanish revival thing he'd bought in the market crash, but he'd wanted it for the double-garage and the spacious yard, and he's never once regretted buying it for those reasons. He's glad his boyfriend likes it too, but the way he's currently mapping around the base of the Palo Verde tree with a measuring tape is putting a kind of dread in Tommy's stomach that he can't accurately explain.

"Evan, can you communicate with me in some kind of human language? My usual mindreading powers have been dampened by the fact I'm still half asleep. Why are you measuring my tree?"

Briefly and optimistically, Tommy thinks maybe Evan just wants to host a barbecue. Maybe he's plotting space for a slip'n'slide for the 118's kids, or something. But unfortunately -

"It's for the bees!" Evan tells him, bouncing back towards Tommy. He's got a smile like an angel. Tommy's stomach erupts in butterflies like he's not a fucking forty year old man as Evan slides both his arms around Tommy's waist, pulls him close, the warm smell of him invading Tommy's space. "I know you haven't forgotten - I texted you!"

Tommy remembers the texts, which he'd sent a couple heart emojis back to the night before immediately prior to passing out from a shift from hell. Evan had sent him some fun facts about the importance of pollinators and a link to a local bee society saying he wanted to 'get involved'. Tommy had thought maybe Evan was planning to volunteer the firehouse for an awareness event, at most.

Now, a much more worrying reality is worming its way into his vision.

"Evan," Tommy says, "Please tell me I am not getting bees."

"Babe," Evan says, sounding exasperated. "Of course not. I know you don't really like insects. I'm getting bees. I just need to keep them in your garden because my landlord said no to putting them on my balcony."

Evan rolls his eyes, like that is somehow a ridiculous stance in his opinion. And, look. Tommy is a tough guy. He was raised tough. He knows how to hunt, how to shoot a gun. He doesn't like that stuff, but he's done it. He's seen war, he's seen tragedies as a firefighter. He's seen people die, he's held people's guts inside their bodies with his bare hands. He's not scared of bugs.

He just doesn't like them or the way their weird legs move or the way they buzz around your head when Tommy thinks helicopters should be the only things allowed to fly.

He adores Evan's enthusiasm for the natural world and seemingly endless well of untapped optimism. It's a huge part of why Tommy has fallen so hard and fast he can't even see the sky anymore. But in this moment he does, in fact, briefly consider locking Evan out of his home forever.

"Evan, we are not putting bees in my garden. No way. You don't have time to come here every day and I'm not gonna look after them when you're working!"

"They don't need looking after every day! They're not like puppies, Tommy. I promise, you won't even notice they're there."

Evan kisses the cleft of Tommy's chin and then the hinge of his jaw with his hot wet mouth. Inside, the coffee machine beeps. He can't believe he's having this conversation without caffeine.

"I'm pretty sure I will notice they're there, on account of the fact my garden will be full of bees."

Evan's thick, calloused fingers are sliding underneath the hem of Tommy's t-shirt, rubbing at the taut skin of his waist.

"Don't you want to help the pollinators, Tommy?" Evan asks. Tommy looks to the heavens and thinks, help. "Plus, think of everything we'd be able to bake with the honey! Have you ever had honey cake? I bet you'd like it."

"Evan." Tommy attempts to sound firm. He's not really a firm sort of guy. He's more a go-with-the-flow, embrace-the-chaos sort. But there are occasional moments, like this one right here, where push comes to shove, and you just have to put your foot down. "We are not getting bees."

Evan pouts.

______

They get bees.

[bucksboobs]

On their way to a fire, Buck opens his big mouth and says something very stupid. Not an unusual occurrence but this one is unique: “Hey, Hen? Can I ask you a gay people question?”

Hen side-eyes him. “Are you sure now’s the best time?” The engine shakes on its suspension.

Buck blusters forward. “So Tommy and I have been dating a month and a half now.” The mention of Tommy grabs both Chim and Eddie’s attention.

“Wait, really?” Chim asks, Hen’s not sure if he thought it was shorter or longer than that. His memory of time seems to be the worst hit by the encephalitis.

“2 months next Thursday.” Eddie says.

“Y-yeah… that’s right.” Buck raises his eyebrows at Eddie. The rest all stare, Hen included. Those two have always been locked at the hip but knowing each other’s anniversaries seems excessive. Buck seems to agree.

“How do you know that?” She asks.

“Their first date was the same day I asked Marisol to move in with me.”

“When did Marisol move in with you?” Hen and Chimney ask in unison. Last she heard about Marisol she had only just met Chris, moving in seemed a long way off for them. Since when was she living with him?

“She didn’t” Bobby answers, giving his sternest glare to the rear view mirror. Hen knows this means she’s in charge of keeping these fools in check so he can focus on driving.

“Yeah we decided against that. Anyway Buck you were talking about Tommy?” Hen stifles a laugh. There was a story there she was going to have to wring out of Bobby because Eddie’s deflection abilities are legendary.

“Yeah so- um- ho-how long before we can uh…”Hen cocks her head. What exactly is Buck after with Tommy right now, they’re not nearly to the point of I love yous and she doesn’t think Buck would be this nervous about dating advice. “I mean how long did you and Karen wait until you, uh” Oh.

“Had sex?” Hen asks bluntly.

“Whoa, you and Tommy haven’t had sex yet?” Chimney asks, astonished.

“Buck when’s the last time you waited this long with anyone?” Eddie asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“Never? Maybe high school?” That tracks.

“Or Abby.” Chim offers. Buck winces at that. She knows that woman did him dirty, looks like the scar still aches.

“Six minutes to ETA.” Comes from the drivers seat. “5 and a half…” Bobby takes a sharp turn that shakes the whole truck. “5 minutes.”

“So how do I ask him to fuck me.”

A chorus of “BUCK!” rings through the truck. Eddie looks petrified at the idea of his best friends having sex with each other, Chim looks exhausted with his brother-in-law of barely a month and look, Hen would give the world to see this kid happy but sometimes he’s just too stupid for his own good.

“Buck. I think you need to remember Tommy doesn’t have a lot of experience in this area either.”

“He doesn’t?”

“Did you forget he’s only been out as long as you’ve been at the 118?” Hen learned that about Tommy from Buck’s gushing the day after the wedding. She’d also talked to him in a fluorescent lit waiting room after the most gorgeous hospital ceremony she’s ever been a part of, so she’s aware that he’s not used to being with men that want more than just sex from him. “He might think you’re just as nervous as he is.”

“I didn’t know he got nervous.”

Chim huffs at that. “Next time you see him ask him to tell you a story about a rooster.” That makes Hen smile.

“He probably won’t believe you’re ready until you can talk to him about it.”

“I don’t— I-it usually just kind of happens. You get a look, there’s a nod, they look at your lips and lean in…”

“Yeah but that was women who knew what they wanted and what you wanted. Tommy won’t know unless you tell him what you’re ready for.”

“So to get him to fuck me I have to tell him to fuck me?”

“Jesus, Buck. Yes.” Hen laughs. They are, thankfully, finally pulling to site so she doesn’t have to enumerate exactly how he needs to ask. If she did she’d have to explain birds and bees that she is not the best person to explain.

“Come on, kids, let’s save some lives.” Bobby calls as he pulls the parking break.

The fire looks pretty bad, two story house, they’ll have to split up by floor. As they gear up Buck says, privately, off-mic. “Thanks Hen, you’re a good Gay Yoda”

“Do him or do not, there is no try.”

[fayesia]

Day 6 - edging

"Tongue twister" - Aaron Hotchner x reader

ִֶָ𓂃˖ ִֶָ✰࿐ warnings - cunnilingus, fingering, edging, size difference, dom!Hotch

ִֶָ𓂃˖ ִֶָ✰࿐ wc - 846

Aaron's lips crashed against yours, a flurry of clothes being thrown to the ground while both of you stumbled over to the couch. Pushing you down, Aaron kneeled onto the ground in front of you. You felt a hitch in your breath when you realised what was happening. Positioning you, Aaron's hands were large against the expanse of your thighs when he spread your legs apart.

"You okay?"

His gentle whisper soothed you, but at your affirmative response of 'yes' followed by a smug smirk from him you were fucked.

Literally.

Running his fingers from your knee down to your inner thighs you knew he could see the way your pussy got wetter. Droplets of your sweet honey soaking between your thighs, but he was not a bee giving in, rather he avoided that area of you completely.

Much to your annoyance as you huffed out and moved your hips to urge him but Hotch, as usual, took control and firmly stilled your hips with his strong hands. Keeping you in place he lowered his head to pepper your thighs with kisses, soft suckles that soon transitioned into nibbled, and then small bites that had you twitching in Aaron's hands. Looking down, you both made direct eye contact as he licked a line up your thigh gathering your dripping juices into his mouth and relishing in the taste.

"Please~ no more teasing"

"Hmm"

Ignoring your whines of need, Aaron continued to explore you, now edging closer to your folds and licking at the wet skin between your thighs and labia. Your hands grabbed the fabric of the couch waiting for the torture to end. But rather than loosen your grip, your fist only clenched tighter when Aaron's mouth unexpectedly came in contact with your pussy.

"F-fuckkkk"

The curse word transformed into a stretched out moan as Aaron's tongue traced your crevices and his lips wrapped around your sensitive pearl. The ferocity of his movements was a complete opposite to his gentle prods before. Locking eyes with him once more, your back arched uncontrollably as he prodded your hole with his tongue, the wet muscle squeezing its way inside you.

Something he had never tried before that rose sensations you were not used to. His large arms held your legs in place as they contradicted his harsh mouth actions with gentle stroking to your thighs. You stared at his concentrated face, trying to make you come as more moans continuously escaped you. Your breathing picking up pace in a rushed tandem before they fall flat with a heavy groan leaving you.

"What the fuck Aaron I was just about to come why would you stop"

His words followed a harsh slap brought against your thigh, too close to your pussy, unexpectedly making you clench around nothing.

"I'll do it more if you keep up with that smart mouth, is that what you want"

"No"

"Exactly. So be a good girl and take what I fucking give you"

His order was punctuated by another slap, this one even close to your pussy that his fingers just brushed the edge of your core. The slap still making a resounding noise from the liquids escaping you. He kept using his mouth on you remembering the talk you had about how much you enjoyed your first experience of oral with Aaron.

Except he did it again. Just when you were about to come, back already arching and ready to grab onto Hotchs hair, when he moved away from you.

"Ngnh pleaseee Aaron let me come please"

"Hm fine have you learnt your lesson"

"Ye..yes won't do it again"

To be fair, the prank was orchestrated by both you and Reid, but of course, only you were punished in this manner. The look on Hotchs face when the pen cap splashed into his coffee from all the way across the Bullpen was so so worth it. Especially the laughs that followed from the rest of the team who had seen the two of you come up with ideas to tweak the physics in order to make the cap project further.

You wouldn't do it again though, not after you feel Hotchs tongue span over your pussy and his teeth graze against your sensitive clit, your body begging for climax. His hands draw up pushing your legs closer to your chest as his fingers pinch your nipples. The added friction mixed with his mouth on you is that little bit you needed to come. The coil inside you snapping finally after far too long, your body writhing but held in place by Hotch as he keeps licking. Only giving in when you push away at his face, mewling at the overstimulation on his tongue against your clit making you twitch and writhe.

The two of you panting out from the brief "exercise" but Hotch knew the message had made it across to your dumbed out brain and wasn't expecting any more pranks. Unless you preferred not being able to sit down from a sore ass or walk from getting dicked down by him.

Kinktober Masterlist

[st7rnioioss]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ sub!matt headcanons

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: nsfw content (most of it), smut!! (?)

a/n: LOVE THIS REQUEST THANKS🤞 pls spam my inbox i need to be forced into work BYE. also, i’ll get to work on used to be my girl part 2, i swear

this is based off this request!

౨ৎ

- First, I KNOW THIS MAN WHIMPERS🗣️ HEAVY on this i don’t care.

- Matt would definitely spit out a bunch of random words in the quietest, whiniest, high-pitched tone. Just babbling, not being able to make the words sound right.

- It would start out as simple as cuddling, and when you got a little too touchy with him, he would shut his eyes tightly together, begging you to touch him.

- I know this man is a sucker for neck kisses (GOIDBYE IM GIGGLIMG) Like, as soon as you find the certain soft spot on his neck, he is not seen quiet‼️ Whimpering, moaning, squirming beneath you, panting breathlessly, clammy/sweaty palms gripping the back of your neck to hold you closer - he does not want you to stop.

- If you’re on top of him (pooooossibly riding him) he’d look up through his messy hair with his droopy eyes. As I said, he’s squeezing his eyes together, his brows frowning. Maybe even take his bottom lip between his teeth (he so would).

- If you’re in public and start flirting with him, he’d immediately try to shut it down (but he secretly likes it)

“What- No. Stop, we can’t do it here- What are you- We’re in public!” He whispered, protesting but still following along like a lost puppy.

“Oh come on, don’t be a wussy. Nobody’s gonna notice,” You smiled, pushing the door open to the restrooms.

And you ended up fucking in the library bathroom

- Sub!Matt would 100% always get horny around you, no matter the occasion. Before any sort of event, he’d be dragged into a bathroom, bedroom, backseat of a car, for a quickie.

- Imagine Matt with glasses (spelling bee spelling bee spelling bee spelling bee) who’d always fumble nervously with his glasses, because you make him nervous over the simplest stuff. A simple touch or kiss does it for him (the one above this one).

- If he ever got a bit too loud when you’re having sex, imagine grabbing his face and whispering something along ‘does it really feel that good? hm?’ and just earn a whimper in response.

- Giving him head would send him over the edge IMMEDIATELY. Bucking his hips, mumbling a whole load of ‘sorry, sorry, sorry’, but cutting himself off with high-pitched whimpers and moans, just to buck his hips up again.

A fistful of your hair in his hands that he swore to himself he’d keep tight, but immediately looses his grasp on you because he just can’t contain himself. Also - he could never receive head standing, he gotta sit or else his knees will fail him.

- Matt would grip. Sitting in his gamer chair while receiving head? He’s gripping the armrests. Leaning against the headboard as you ride him? He’s gripping the headboard behind him. Laying flat on his back as you’re on top of him? He’s gripping your hips and waist (not as tightly, he can’t stand the thought of hurting you).

- HES VERBALLL🗣️ of course some of it turns to mumbling, but when he’s LOUD and VERBAL?

‘oh my fu- god- j-just like that’

‘please- it feels so good- you feel so good’

‘i’m so so close, keep- keep going, please’ as he throws his head back and closes his eyes.

a/n: i could keep going

taglist: @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lilies @toriinie @cupidzsq @lacysturniolo @iluvmattyb @ratatioulle @emma4eva @riasturns @sstvrnioloo @sweetbabydoe @elliewrites1 @its-jennarose let me know if you'd like to be added!

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x afab!reader

PART SIX

NSFW

Well. More bond mating smut. And yes, their will be more parts. And more smut! Anywho, enjoy~

Rena stared down at your bare breasts, eyes full of curiosity and interest. You leaned back into Lyiths chest, his hands moving in front of you, trying to fiddle with the buttons of your jeans. Rena smirked down at him, before reaching over with her second pair of hands and unzipping them. Lyith pulled you up, positioning your hips enough so that Rena could pull your pants off, leaving you in a pair of white panties with little bottles on them. ‘Honey’ was scribbled on the jars and you cringed internally. You had bought a bee themed panty pack a week before you had moved into the cottage. 

Rena examined your undies before throwing back her head and cackling. “What a strange garment. I wonder if it tastes as sweet as its labeled.” She took one of her hands and traced around the edges of the underwear with her fingers, achingly slow, then reaching down to the start of a wet splotch that had seeped through the fabric. Just as slowly, she rubbed back and forth against the splotch, tracing the opening of your lips. She laughed again, then took some of the slick collected on her finger to her lips.

She blinked up at you with big eyes. “They were right. Sweet as our best batch of honey.”

Your core churned with heat, her gaze making you clench around nothing. Lyiths hands moved from your waist up to your breasts, tracing little meandering lines on the skin. The sensation made your nipples perk and Rena watched them with introgue.

It occurred to you that this must be a very new experience for them, considering they were not fully mammalian. Rena used the pad of her fingers to trace around your areolas, and up the tip of your nipple, making you quiver. The skin on her first pair of hands was rougher, and it felt incredibly good. She pinched your nipples experimentally. Her other hands roamed your happy trail, down your stomach to your hips. Lyith continued to message the skin of your breasts.

Lyiths head was leaning over and into your ear. He blew into it experimentally and as you breathed out a moan came with it. All the attention and the fact that three pairs of hands were groping your body was incredibly titillating. You were getting wetter under their eyes and your sensitive nipples only made things worse. Your core pooled molten, and you felt yourself heat up.

You had never felt so open and on display, the fact that their was no door to the room making your tensions tighten. Any minute someone could come in and see you bare and moaning. That is, if they didn’t feel the wave of your lust from the hallway.

“We are all that matters right now.” Lyith breathed in your ear, putting his lips to your neck and biting down. You groaned at the shock and the sweetness of it. You could feel Lyiths growing need against your ass. Rena leaned down and started licking and nipping the skin of your breast, eventually making way to your nipples, causing you to shake. 

She noticed, and started to play with them in tandem. One of her hands had pushed your panties aside and started tracing up and down your slit. You mewled as she traced over your clit and she stopped.

She then, slowly traced over it again and, saw how you went limp. You were not able to do anything but feel sensation.

“Oh, is this a place you like, little Queen?” She purred, starting to rub it with vigor. You cried as she started to play with it, making different shapes and taking breaks to trace down to your entrance and back up again. Fuck did it feel good. You wondered if Bee-men women had clits and you looked down, surprised to see that while she did have a slit, something was starting to peak out, a long, girthy something. It had bumps and ridges, a shape you had never seen before. 

She noticed your attention shift and cooed at you.

“See what you do to me little Queen?” You felt her push her mind to yours, her rich heady arousal filling your head. You joined her and you felt her smugness at your obvious need and lust. Something about sharing your mind with her made you more sensitive, and you started moaning louder as she rubbed you and played with your wetness.

You could feel it, a sudden magic being worked and she brought one of her hands to her mouth, taking two fingers deep into it. She then pulled them out, slick and glistening under the light, then reached them down to slowly pump into you. She worked the liquid into your twitching walls, exploring. Behind you Lyith murmured praises and groaned as he humped himself into the crevice between your asscheeks, sliding around the Bee-men equivalent of precum. You didn’t see him, but his length felt long. You wondered what it looked like, when suddenly, a strong shot of warmth, like lightning started to take place between your walls.

You were a trembling shaking mess, and if you had felt needy before, your were practically desperate now. You felt a sort of fuzzy sensitiveness in your walls, a feeling adjacent to need. It was strong, and demanding, and you could barely see with how much you needed something to be inside you. You started humping into Renas hand, sliding up and down against Lyiths length as you went. All blushing, and embarrassment gone, you needed to be fucked. Right then. Right now.

A part of you knew it was Rena’s magic. She was painting more and more of this magic saliva along your walls, seemingly trying to cover every inch of it. You whine loudly into her ear, and bit her shoulder hard in frustration. She giggled at you.

“I have to do this properly if we want this to take, little one. Now keep your mind and your legs nice and open for me.” She whispered. You were sweating profusely now, the sweat on your back and chest making their fur damp in the process.

Rena’s hands continued to pump into you, angling just the right way to make you grunt and drool. Your inside was so incredibly wet, you bet the squelching sounds could be heard from the hall. Your release was so close. You were so close. You felt another nip on your shoulder as Lyith came, his voice a beautiful song. You could feel his eyes flutter along your skin, and that knowledge sent you over the edge too. You rode out the wave of blinding heat as Rena leaned down to kiss you. 

Her tongue licked at yours experimentally before completely claiming your mouth like she had your cunt. Her saliva was sweet and tasted of her magic and she continued to feed her own need for release, a need to be touched and fuck and to be fucked all inside your head. Her saliva wasn’t just an aphrodisiac, it was pining her magic to you, her mind to you, everything that she was, it was all over your insides.

She finally adjusted you, putting her girth up to your hole before murmuring a chant that sounded like a mix between human and the buzzing texture of her purrs. Her mind was full of want, of instinct and devotion.

“I give my body and mind to you. I claim you as my Queen, to serve until my mind turns quiet and my wings beat their last beat.” 

If Rena had ever been serious in her life, it was at this moment. Your gazes locked and opened yourself to her completely. You would accept all of her. Every flaw and piece.

At that moment, she pushed into you, all of her in one swift motion. You both groaned out, your minds a landscape of white sparks and fire. She started pumping, her ridges dragging deliciously against your walls. It was good thing she had prepped you, because her girth was formidable. The friction left you drooling as she fucked you dizzy. You felt like goo, barely able to keep your head upright from how intense the feelings were.

She had not just entered you physically, but you could feel herself attach to some incredibly intimate part of your mind. The harder she pumped, the more she connected and you knew she would never leave you. 

As your second orgasm started to build, you felt it. The last nail to the wall, to mount her to you forever. If you drilled it in yourself, you would be her queen until your last days. You felt a piece of her tense in worry. A scared vulnerable piece of her. She had given you everything and if you rejected her now, she would never live down the shame, never be able to take another queen.

You took all of her in your mind, cradled her as close to you as possible, and pushed the two of you over the edge. In that moment the two of you cried out, heat and pleasure crashing through your mind and forms. 

She filled you with her warm cum, your dripping cunt taking every inch as she pumped you through your high. Your hearts beat as one in that moment, and you stayed like that for an impossibly long time.

When the two of you came down, you collapsed into each other. You rolled over, her dick soft, inside you. Lyith made a happy trilling sound and sculpted himself to your back, purring and humming in a sing song way. He was actually singing now, in a celebratory tone. 

Rena could only purr and trill happily, her eyes foggy as she put her hand up to push back your damp locks.

You leaned into her touch, sated and happy. You could feel her bond in the back of your mind, next to Lyiths. You had to admit to yourself, now that the need was starting to recede, that this was a scary situation.

Your Lyith and Rena had put their lives in your hands, to heal or hurt, to command, or to reject. The power was all yours. 

“Everything will be alright. Anything scary, we will deal with it together.” Lyith breathed at you. Rena, still coming down from her high nodded, making her same trilling noise. It conveyed an emotion you didn't have human words for. It was ajoy of being seen and accepted. Of being whole. It was a vulnerable, sincere love being conveyed. You leaned over and kissed her. 

You slowly pulled her girth out of you, causing her to groan and wrinkle her nose. You turned to Lyith and kissed him as well, before laying on your back and sighing. 

I totally am going to freak out when I fully process this, you thought to yourself, before relaxing your consciousness into the embrace of sleep.

Part Seven

[ventique18]

Obsessed with thoughts of first night with virginal 🐉

Warning: casual mature (reader referred to as 'you')

My guy only knows kissing from illustrated children's books. When you pry your tongue in, he was like '-$(#-(?????? Wtf????' in his mind but then melts at the dopamine rush it sends. He was already in heaven from the cartoon ass lip-to-lip kiss so this was already crazy for him.

Lilia never talked with him about the birds and the bees because he was confident in the boy's draconic instinct or whatever.

Malleus literally doesn't know what to do as a consequence. He also doesn't read smut romance books because basic romance books don't interest him.

So he just stands there stiffly as you do all the kissing. You find it a bit odd but don't say anything, because you're caught up in the heat. But while you're feeling passionate, he on the other hand is experiencing the same emotion x10 for the first time so he's so confused and constantly wondering if he'll simply implode. What is this emotion? Why am I feeling like this? He's so incredibly flustered but he's good at keeping composure, so he just stares at you and watches you as you kiss and nip marks on his torso the entire time.

When you put your mouth around his length, he jerks and freezes on the spot. What are you doing to one of his excretory organs? That is dirty? He does always wash it though, so he trusts you and sits there like an idiot. He bites his lip when you lick him. He bites his hand when you suck him. What the fuck is this sensation? It's incredible. He's never felt like this in his entire life.

When you put him in you, he feels so damn wonderful. He comes. He comes literally the first three seconds.

You're both so surprised lmao. He does know there's some other slimy liquid that comes out there but he only knows now that that's its intended purpose.

You laugh and get off him, but cuddle him sweetly to let him know that it's okay. Not like he needs reassuring because he literally doesn't know you're expected to not come that fast.

You accept that this one is done, and you go lie next to him. But he embraces you this time and kisses you again; this time doing to you what you did to him earlier. Everything that you did to him earlier.

Extra: if you're a woman, when he gets there, he stares stupidly while holding his member. Where was he supposed to stick it in again? He tried to look earlier when you put him in you, but the angle wasn't good and he has no clue. He first tries to enter the bottom one, but it rejects him easily, so it must be the other one. It slides in perfectly.

He's surprised that he doesn't immediately blow this time. He doesn't know that he's supposed to move though so he just stands there doing nothing. You only think he's trying to compose himself, but you're impatient (you didn't come the first round) so you snap your hips to get him to move.

He does and it feels incredible.

This time he really just lets his instincts take over.

He finds himself kissing you everywhere.

He holds you so tightly that sometimes you can't breathe.

You come wildly, but he doesn't relent. He doesn't know he's supposed to wait for you to calm down so he ends up overstimulating you. He forgets his strength and cracks the bed, but he just flicks a wrist to revert it and bolsters it in the process. No furniture shall disturb him.

You come again together and he gives you a smoldering kiss.

When your breathing calms down, he growls in your ear

"Again." As he flips you over.

[jolalibrary]

iii. when pounding dough isn't just baking

joel miller x f!reader | chapter three of honey stained hands

chapter summary: and he can already hear what Jackson will say if they find out, the looks he’ll get—because how dare he poison the sweet woman who tends to bees and bakes cakes. but he dares. fuck he’d dare over and over again.

warnings: patrol times, allusion to grief, minor mentions of loss of loved ones (rip tess/sarah), reader is unwarrantedly slapped on the ass by an unknown male (she handles it, cause she's a baddie), soft, slow-smut, p in v, typical canon-angst, no physical descriptions, minor use of the nickname 'bee' but no use of y/n. wordcount: 5.1k an: fuck me, she's uploaded hahaha. for this chapter, there's far too many people to thanks, I've rambled about this to anyone who listens, but as always thank you to @thetriumphantpanda for propping me up when this felt like it would never happen and thank you also to @goodwithcheese who loves this, probably as much as me, but has also reminded me i have to love it first.

It’s hard to pinpoint when the snow first began to truly settle.

When it began to simply dust itself over things, and then when it shifted into blanketing.

One day, normal. The next there’s a sheet of white hanging expertly over roofs and porches. It's placed there by the hands of nature, blanketing everything in innocence, unveiling deception by the way of footprints, while hiding away the horrors that have deteriorated and spoiled into the ground.

It twinkles when stared at and crunches under the soles of boots. It goes hand in hand with the weather which makes mist appear from lips as people converse, going on with their new normal. It forces laughter from individuals as it falls in flutters, collecting on noses, hands and the ground, just before snow people begin to appear, all crafted expertly by hands and joy. But, the snow also makes bones in those who are older ache and makes excited giggles flow from those who are younger.

For Joel, it drives him to yank his gloves further up his hands, causes him to grumble and makes him narrow his eyes as Ellie rolls another snowball and threatens to throw it.

She eventually settles with heading off to find Tommy, leaving him to stuff the gloves under the cuff of his jacket—trying to busy himself, and not stare. Alternating between flexing his fingers and peering around as he waits to hear your door open.

When it does sound, it’s like music to his ear. A soft whistle flows with it, a smile catching his eyes when he allows himself to glance over and look.

Joel swears the light of the world lives in your smile. It must do to penetrate the layers he wears, the walls he’s thrown up and the roughness he carries. Not that he’s ever about to admit it. Not that or that whatever had been churned up inside of him, smooths out. A semblance of calm slid itself over him, gently weaving its fingers under knots and taut muscles, relaxing him, inch by inch.

Although, a part of him is tempted to spill all his secrets to you when you skip down the steps, looking as over the moon to see him, as he is to see you.

“You ready for Patrol 101, Miller?”

He isn’t sure he is. His knees had groaned in protest this morning, then there had been an ache in his ribs when he stretched too far, and he was sure if he attempted to run his hip would give out.

Joel swallows all of it and doesn't share it. Doesn't want to highlight any more than the lines on his face and the callouses on his fingers what the years have done to him.

Because getting out was something he’d been craving.

A hunger in him that hasn't been stemmed with tasks and fix-me-ups. It’s why he had almost choked on his drink when Tommy told him the news. Practically watched his brother smirk in the same way he had when he was younger—like he’d gotten something on his older brother. Bee'll take you around a few times; show you the routes. Then you'll be paired with someone else.

While he hadn’t wanted to push, dismay swirled within him. It sloshed against the sides of the happiness he’d been handed, diluting it, and making it murky.

How come I can’t stay partnered wit’ her?

Can’t have the best two together—we’ll lose others quicker than we already are.

He said nothing. People had been getting braver for weeks, growing more desperate.

A thing which Joel had seen firsthand when he’d been outside of the walls of Jackson, long before he could ever say he was a resident. But, something had shifted more so since then. A deviousness not etched into those with more energy, more poison in their teeth and more gut in their stomachs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll look after you,” you tease.

Snorting, he holds your gaze. Allows himself to see his reflections in the way they glimmer, staring at him with a mixture of things—ones he wishes he could translate and understand. Your tongue tracing your bottom lip, something trying to write across your face, but never being spelt out.

That is until you clear your throat. Erasing it all, wiping the markings from your face—the begins of sketched-out confessions he would have tried to ascertain.

“Come on, need to get ourselves equipped.”

He follows, as he does for the next hour.

On the second time out, he’d grown used to your mannerisms.

How you went from nothing but sunshine to a thing someone would fear meeting in the dark.

That you begin by his side, but eventually fluctuate between being a little in front or just behind. Your voice ranges in pitch, sometimes whispering, sometimes at normal volume. All little quirks he supposed you’d picked up from surviving.

The main thing Joel learns is that he doesn’t hate listening to you—not like he does many others. Even when you elbow him, pulling a slight smirk from him.

What he hadn’t banked on was the way he felt when your eyes dropped to his lips temporarily, almost fleetingly.

Good job I’m a talker, isn’t it Miller?

While you are, he’s also now able to spot that shift in you on the third run—the one he saw before when you were littered with ruby droplets. He can predict when it descends, when it shifts in your eyes, something sharper, more razor when you’re on this side of the fence.

The playful light that adorns your face is gone, traded for something harsher, more weathered. He thinks it would be rude to say your age, but you appear hardened, like the things you’ve faced begin writing themselves across your face all over again.

Joel notes it’s worse when you pause at an abandoned cabin, your voice tight, almost forced as it leaves your mouth. Your eyes burn into the door and the chipped windows. He doesn’t interrupt, makes no sudden movements, just allows you to list the things there, the amenities, the hidden knife in the floorboard and half a box of bullets behind a brick in the fireplace.

He's not paying attention to that though, but rather you.

You who looks like you could shatter if he knocked into you, crumble into something that would willingly slip between snowflakes and bury yourself into the soil.

He's learned grief can be worn in a number of ways. Ellie's there, carried around her neck like a necklace, it lingering in unsaid words.

The most painful parts of his own are buried in a chamber, wrapped in iron, only released in the moments where he's alone, where there's nothing but darkness and quiet, allowing him to replay all he can recall like a home movie, paying attention to the way those three letters sound and the childish laughter rings out.

Another part comes back to him at the sound of running water, of circular rocks. He thinks of that sly smirk and that cunning brain when he rolls over mid-sleep to remember he still leaves a space.

Then, there's the way you carry it. A mystery, slices of it living in the things you surround yourself and you come into contact with, like a bunch of ghosts which haunt and linger.

"I know it’s not a lot, but it’s better than leading them back."

"Yeah," he adds.

Because other words don't come to him with ease.

You don’t fill the silence for a while after the cabin is barely in sight, just the world absently humming along, as though it doesn’t notice the tension and the way your shoulders are by your ears.

“So, why baking?”

It’s the first question he asks—the only one since the two of you left the safety of Jackson. If you’re surprised at his shift to engage, you do not comment, instead pointing in the direction the two of you are taking.

“Well, I did do candles for a while too, but…”

Moving a branch out of the way, you nod as you move under it, likely following a path you only know in your head.

And it lingers, the bit after the but. Waiting, hearing the breeze blow gently through bare trees and the snow wince under your boots.

“So, how’d you like patrol, Miller?”

Smiling, he grips the gun a little tighter at his waist. “S’alright. Y’a good tour guide.”

Laughing, you stop, waiting for him, jutting your head in the direction of the path, but he doesn’t move, and neither do you.

And it happens, brief and quick. Gone far too soon before he can point it out—that brief look you give him, dropping from his eyes to his mouth. Curiosity there, brewing, bubbling before you vanish it when you return to hold his gaze.

“If Tommy tells me you rated me less than five stars, I’ll be coming for you.”

“Will y’now?”

Narrowing your eyes, the world silent of snow crunching under boots. “Yeah. I know where you live, too.”

He doesn’t see you for several days after the third patrol—and in that time, he's paired with someone younger, a man who appeared more nervous about holding a gun than he did being outside the walls.

“The two of you will be going out in a week,” Maria had said, no room for complaint or argument.

A stern expression that hardens as though freezing in the cold temperatures.

So, Joel said nothing.

But he did think of you.

He dreamt of you, too. Them having shifted when he slept. Swirling, hearing the distinct whispers of Miller, flashes of your gaze just as he wakes up—leaving him gasping, hand on his stomach, desperate to alleviate pressure, but not the kind which had been in his chest.

By the fifth day, he still hadn't asked about you, but fuck did he want to. Almost went round, and hammered his fist into your door. Getting as far as his own porch before he talked himself out of it.

But, now Ellie had begun to mumble. Her sharing her worries, her concerns, fingers playing with the other as she sat at the table, breakfast untouched, sadness beginning to embed itself in the cheer that Jackson had slowly brought her.

"She might be already down at the pen."

Moving the spoon, Ellie shrugs. "She isn't. Her light is on."

By the time he’s decided to check in himself, Joel finds Ellie at the foot of your porch, hands on her hips—beckoning you to come out. Doing so at the top of her voice, all sing-song, making a dance and churning the snow into ice as you stand and watch.

Whatever your reply is, is buried under your breath, doing so begrudgingly, practically dragging your feet like you were the same age as her.

“You have anything to do with this, Miller?”

“Nope. I’d have dragged y’out if it were up to me.”

You’d poked his chest, smirking—a glint that flickered and then vanished inside the dark-sadness that swirled in your eyes. “You can drag me anywhere, Miller, just so you know.”

Somehow, the simple act of getting you out led you to teaching Ellie more about the animals, showing her how to brush one of the horses, and how to feed the chickens. Before he knew it, he was lingering behind, watching the two of you talk to other townsfolk, before somehow ending up in the Tipsy Bison.

It was then Ellie decided to leave you both—a look on her face that screamed menace and don’t fuck this up old man, all at once.

And he had tried. Kept things light, breezy. Ordered you a drink, listened, and even overthought questions before he asked them.

Your eyes flicked to a table across the room when you motioned to answer, it all loud, full of laughter. The pitch of them has been growing louder for the last half an hour, likely doing so as more time goes on and as more alcohol fills their stomachs and sloshes with the morals.

It seemed to make your spine tense, your jaw tighten. All newbies, from what Tommy had said when he’d served you—seem good, honest.

Joel didn’t get that vibe, and from the look on your face, neither did you.

Clearing his throat, he nudges your glass with his. “Y'been good?”

Chewing your reply, you lean on the bar—eyes staring at him. That same look.

The one which he sees in his dreams. The one he saw embers of on those walks.

Before it drops, finds a place near where his fingers rest, watching a smile crack into your stern expression, fluttering something else out in its place.

“Better now.”

“Yeah?”

Rolling your lips, you lean closer, the scent of your soap and shampoo flooding his nostrils. “Yeah, Miller. You make me—“

But your words are stolen, robbed.

Taken.

The action does so before the sound of a crack echoes, all heavy, loud—it punches itself into the calming air, turning it violent and angry.

It ricochetes.

And Joel is embarrassed it takes him far too long to piece together when he sees you jolt beside him. Only realising when Tommy yells and he sees the evidence of it cut across your face, the shock that bled into a deep frown—words dying mid-conversation before your head whipped around and you stare at someone passing.

Pushing up from the bar, slamming your glass down—it splashing itself against the wooden counter. “Did you just spank my ass?” you spit, cutting over the man’s laughter—directing it at him as he walked back to his table.

“Just thought you were good enough to eat, sweetheart.”

Even if the smile on your face is nothing but sweet, Joel sees the shift. The forced nature of it. The way it doesn’t glaze across your skin. But is planted there. Not quite reaching your eyes, not quite blazing over the simmering that’s there.

Because they’re aflame. Murderous. Slightly pinched at the edges as you slowly tilt your head, placing your bottle down.

The music continues to play, mindless chatter layers on top of it, but he can just hear your boots walking away from him. One step, two steps, three.

Your body inching closer to the man, the one with his thumb in his belt, leaning—like his comment had substance.

“That what you want, handsome? You want me?”

Joel’s throat dries, fucking tightens. And he just watches on, even as his fist grips tighter around the glass. Hating the drawl from your lips, despising it, in fact—even if he knows it's a pretence. Fake.

It’s a thing he knows from those patrols, has learnt all the inflictions of your voice—can read when you’re holding back and when you’re giving him nothing but honesty. He can tell when your words are silky, smooth—the same way he knows you’re acting now.

The man snorts. The scar on his cheek all pink, clearly healing, sliding up with his snarl. But, it's the way his eyes bore into you like a man starved, that makes him almost rise up from the stool.

The way the man licks his lips and looks you up and down. “I’d show you a good time, that’s all I’ll say.”

He can feel his blood boiling, hand so clenched he’s sure the bones will snap under flexed muscle and taught skin. But, he doesn’t move, doesn’t shift—even if all he wants to do is go over.

Because you don't need him. Reminding him very much of circular stones and stubbornness. Reminding him of someone who handled themselves just as well, someone not worth crossing either—him there, only ever in case. That case rarely ever fucking needed.

He snorts to himself because it's only now he considers the fact that if the world had been different, he suspects the two of you would be friends.

Especially from the way you had moved closer to the table. Your hips doing their thing, fingers stroking at your palm as he motions to stand.

“Better than most around here, including your present company.”

You stop. Halt.

Head tilting ever so slightly—even from his position behind, Joel knows your face has switched again. Morphed. The air growing tenser, colder—practically bone-chilling.

And he swears the music quiets.

It happens quickly. A screech of a chair leg, the shattering of a glass, and the thud of a man twice your size landing on his back. Your body slowly crouches over him as the others at the table stand up. But, he's just focused on you.

How your jeans bend in a low V at the back as you hover over the man—shirt rising, skin showing.

All the other noises have stopped, and Joel can feel his brother’s eyes on him. Feel his pulse in his throat, in his ears, hammering and fucking hammering—

“This what you want? To have someone warm, sweet and gentle on top of your bones?”

You ask it in a way where there’s room for a response. The man’s eyes are wide, staring up at you like you’re the devil rather than an angel. Your tone carrying, fluttering to his ears—but your shoulders are squared.

“Lemme let you in on a secret. I’m not warm, m’not sweet—and touch my ass again, and you’ll find out that I’m not that fucking gentle either.”

Your words ring in the second after. Just the same as the thud of you throwing the man back to the floor. The words crawl across the walls, unwilling to be smothered by music. His drink suddenly tainted, ruined, no longer tasting of anything but annoyance, anger and sadness, watching you grab your jacket and leave.

Joel just rolls his jaw, over and over again. Glare burning a hole in the floor, opening it up, feeling red mist rise out of it as he tried to calm the pulse in his neck, the one hammering in his skull.

Y’going after her, or should I?

Tommy asked it in a way where he knew the answer, likely having bid his time to speak it. Let minutes rack up, and become a bigger number than they should have reached. He wore that same cocky expression Joel recognised from a world that didn’t feel like this one. It reminded him of kitchen mornings and car rides and mornings arguing with others about the prices of supplies.

It’s why he doesn’t answer, just grabs his coat, throwing a glare before he goes after you.

Joel pauses to visit the horses and lingers there to calm the anger in his bones and the fury in his muscles.

When he begins to trudge to your house alone, he pays attention to the way his boots crunch in the many prints left behind by others. His eyes trying to spot yours, discern them from the many others.

It only gets easier when the path forks off to where you both live. The prints grow fewer, able to spot the different pairs—the ones he knows to be Ellie’s, the ones he can recognise are his own, and then yours.

You with your little markings to your steps, the fresh snow leaving a breadcrumb trail he doesn’t need, but appreciates all the same. Because your house is flooded in darkness, bathed in the night—but the footprints told him you’d made it home.

Even in your anger.

He knocks once before he tries the door. Internally shaking his head at you leaving it unlocked, twisting it into place when he’s on the other side. Boots joining yours, bits of the outside crumbling from leather to meet the melting pools you’ve left yourself.

“Kitchen, Miller.”

Smirking, he shoves his coat from his shoulders, a little golden pool of light on your wooden flooring from the kitchen that lights his way. Leads him. Pulls him along with a transparent finger which hooks into the collar of his shirt and practically drags him, until he finds you where he suspected—behind a counter, flour dust everywhere, and staring waiting for him.

“Hey there pretty thing.”

Snorting, he bites back that you’re prettier. Swallows it. Until it rears its head up his throat, and sprouts in his brain, making him think back to your comment. Then, all he wants to do is make a comment about cashing in on it.

Truthfully, he hasn’t been able to stop himself from wondering if you sound as pretty as his perfectly tuned guitar.

As he turns it over, he realises—even if he was suave—it won’t sound as good. It all balling and rolling in a lump on his tongue.

“I’m sorry about tonight.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, y’hear me?”

Rolling your eyes, you tilt your chin to your chest. “Still. Should control my… annoyance better.”

Shaking his head, he folds his arms. "Think you controlled it just fine. Though, y'could've punched him."

Grinning, you look down at the bowl pointedly. "And how am I meant to buy my way into your heart if I can't bake you things?"

And it's there again, that thrum, that little twinge in him that you have awoken. A thing that made him think, not just feel. His thumb and finger play with the fabric of his sleeve, feeling his eye narrow as he watches you—considering, ticking.

“Can hear you thinking over here? Need some oil for the cogs up there?”

“Enough.”

Smiling, you lick your lips, tapping your fingers against the side of the bowl. “I’m used to it, Miller. The comments—the looks. Had it… well, far too long.”

Biting the inside of his jaw, he does so a bit too hard. Almost making himself wince, thumb digging into his arm, feeling it, halting him from exclaiming. “Shouldn’t have t’be used to it.”

“Yeah, well...”

You let the words fall out, before sighing. Resting your palms on the side of your bowl, you give him that look again. The one he thinks he understands and can read—even if it looks different. It doesn’t whisper in the same way as it did on Tess, on others.

On you, it looks like a challenge, a difficult thing he wants to overcome, solve.

Clearing your throat, you smile. Softer, kinder. "Least I'm your honey, right?"

Moving from his place, he moves closer to the counter. Something familiar coming back to him—something covered in cobwebs and dust. Once hidden under moth-eaten sheets, not thrown to the side as he comes to stop a considerable gap away—enough for you to blink, to tell him you’re tired and say goodnight to him in that playful tone.

None of it comes.

Lifting his chin, he finds you slowly smirking, eyes fixed on him, watching, waiting.

Clearing his throat, he rolls his jaw from side to side. “What’d y’like me to call you?”

Your hands flex, flour still clinging to your palms, your hands. “Tonight?”

Nodding, he watches you swallow.

Lets your eyes trace a pattern over his face, for a moment forgetting—allowing himself a moment of pretence. That this is normal, all of it.

“Yours. I want you to call me yours for tonight.”

Suddenly, his fingers are on you, palms grasping. It’s less a kiss, and more a need for your mouth—an act of dominance, a purposeful kiss to keep your tongue busy so it doesn’t take it back. More teeth than anything else.

Because it’s bold—yet so simple.

A thing which frightens him and makes him want to devour you whole, just as he’s inhaling, smelling sugar, sweet and all things fucking nice as you moan into his mouth—and fuck do you make him want. You, this thing that is all good on the outside and marred on the inside.

It's why he softens his mouth on yours, breathes you in a little gentler, hovering his mouth over yours, waiting, permission needing to be given, signed, delivered—

“Keep kissin’ me, Miller.”

Groaning, he does. Tasting something that is all things good, yet as he slides his hand around your apron and into your shorts, you’re nothing but bad.

He just feels skin, no fabric—your slick greeting his touch, how wet you are, all desperate to be known.

“Barely even touched you,” he groans, finger-coating himself in it. In you.

“Maybe you’re not the first visitor I’ve had in the last hour.”

Your hands are caked in flour still as he spins you, pressing you down. Cheek on the cool counter as the bowl tumbles and descends to the floor. Your hands, clutch, leverage themselves, hips all hinged.

“Y’mean it?”

“What?”

“Y’wanna be mine.”

“I mean whatever you want me to mean, Miller.”

Your tight as he slides another finger in, tightening around him, slick to the place his fingers meet his hand, your whimpers blowing flour dust around.

The more he touches you, the more he decides he has to have you. Something carnal, primal. Each whimper and moan grasped for like he was collecting them, storing them in his dark depths, hoping they’d glow and spark light.

Then, it cuts through it all, and your hand—smothering his jeans in uncooked batter—grasping at his thigh, squeezing.

Want you, Miller. Please.

Even as he retracts his hand, he wants to apologise. Turning you to face him, watching your eyes—all lust blown and pretty—drink him in, likely seeing his hesitance, his apologies.

Swallowing as you hook a finger in your shorts, letting them pool at your ankles, “It’s been a while for me, too.”

His mouth slants over yours, tongue diving past the back of your teeth. Clothes sliding free, skin exposed to the air of your kitchen—the evidence of your earlier baking leaving evidence in places he’ll find hard to explain.

Not that he cares. He wants to be costed in flour prints he’ll admire when he has to return home. Wants them to linger, be hard to rid—just like you.

“I’m no one else’s,” you whisper, teeth grazing his cheek.

But it’s the words that are left hanging he hears louder: not anymore.

A feeling he understands—relates to. His hands move, positioning you up onto the counter where you bake and make, and now fuck. He hears the bowl fall, the earlier mixture spreading out in a mess as he lines himself up, looking in your eyes one last time as you nod.

Then, he slides in, all enveloped by you. Walls wrapping around him, inviting him in—desperate, needy, as little moans kiss against his ear as he stills, thumbs drawing soft circles on your hips to make you relax.

It's slow, and cautious. Rocking into you. Letting your mouth find his, attempting to drown out all other things as your legs wrap around his waist.

"Your back."

"Don't care," he grunts, buries it in your mouth, layers it onto your tongue.

And he doesn't; he just needs.

All hungry, more than he thought he could be for a person he knows no history of. But as he loses himself in you, he feels his hand metaphorically let go of the dread he wakes with each day. Each moan of his name from your pretty fucking lips makes him feel like he belongs, not for someone, but for himself.

Feeling your pulse beat against his wrist as his hand slides around to hold the back of your neck, tongue tasting the sweetness collected on your neck, as you moan his name.

And he can already hear what Jackson will say if they find out, the looks he’ll get—because how dare he poison the sweet woman who tends to bees and bakes cakes. But he dares. Fuck he’d dare over and over again if this is what heaven feels like—if this is sinning, he’ll forever confess his wrongdoings.

Because you fit, perfectly taking him, your fluttering hole taking him deeper and deeper, welcoming him, nails cutting into him, marking him, maiming him in a way that makes so much sense for the people they are.

Grunting your name, your eyes open—fire there, present in swirling ruin, ready to pull him, unaware of how willing he is as he spears himself inside of you. Unforgiving, sharp—aiming to bruise and leave you wanting all at once. You’re panting, whining his name. Your head tilted back, chin in his fingers as he fucks into you.

Where he asks, and you smile—wicked and true—inside, inside me, Joel. And he can feel it, how close you are—all tight, desperate and unwilling to beg. But it’s there in the way you’re struggling to swallow and how his name keeps threatening to spill like the hook of a song.

“It’s okay, let go—fuck—let go for me.”

He sees the cogs turn, feels your body react, contort and wash over with pleasure, as he is sure he hears it, the distinct whisper of for you as you cry out, soaking him, coating his cock, fluttering and fluttering until you pull his mouth to yours. Tongue swiping across his bottom lip, tasting the sound of your name as his rhythm stutters, and stutters until his own release costs your insides, stains you, writes that he is yours all over you.

For minutes, it's just breaths, and the scent of you. Face sowed in your neck, your pulse knocking on his cheek, alive, living, all his.

"Miller..."

Swallowing, he steps back, boots standing in the contents spreading around him, deepening itself into the grout of your tiles as he pulls himself out, your hiss minimal, smothered and buried. His hand is outstretched, and he feels your palm slide against his as he helps you down to the mess the two of you made on the floor.

If you mind, you say nothing.

When he zips his fly up, you scramble back to redress. Silence, prickling tension building until he clears his throat, and you look at him with that same innocent look he first saw on your porch.

And he smiles. More so when you drag him by his cheek to your lips, having another second, another moment before reality rains down.

"I should... clean up," you laugh.

Nodding, he takes the cue. “You’ll… you’ll have to let me know when you’re next baking.”

You grin, then smirk, too—not saying anything. Staring at the ruin on the floor. “I’m sure I’ll need to borrow some ingredients.”

He wonders if that’s your twos thing.

And, he learns in four days that it is.

You step up onto his porch, Ellie having long gone out with friends—his fingers pausing in their strumming of the guitar.

“Ran out of hot water.”

“If y’want me to fix it, neighbour, I’m no plumber.”

“No. Just thought I could use yours—but, if you’re worried about consumption, we could do it together. Shower, I mean.”

He’s sure your eyes are sparkling; practically stars in a dark sky, twinkling, inviting.

His hand places the guitar down, leaning it, knees aching as he stands, your smile growing, turning more wicked as he nods at you to the door.

CHAPTER FOUR ->

[rosesbxrry]

Rendezvous

Pairing: Rugby Boyfriend! Jay X Cheerleader Fem! Reader

Genre: Smut🔞 (Minors DNI), secret relationship✌️

Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up before you tap it), Dom Jay, creampie, voyeurism (watching each other masturbate), so much mention of alcohol drinking, fingering, dirty talking, making out, riding, praising, mention of other sexual act done by them. Hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else.

Summary: Your secret relationship with Jay is torturous to say the least, no thanks to the strained relationship between the cheerleading and rugby teams. Now with tournament season coming up and Jay being busy with training, you and he meet up for a secret rendezvous at a frat party after not seeing each other for two weeks, taking advantage of the situation where you both don’t have to worry about the peering eyes of your teammates. 

Main masterlist

Word count: 4,188 words

a/n: I don’t know how I ended up finishing this Jay fic first out of all the wips I have, and I still need to complete the nsfw links for him as well 🙃🙃 I guess rejoice to Jay stans, this one is for you 🫶🫶

You weren’t going to lie; the whole cheerleading thing was getting on your nerves, mainly because you could list all the drawbacks at the top of your head. 

Firstly, you bet you could find longer skirts that covered your ass better than whatever you wore they called uniforms. Secondly, no matter how bad the weather was, you had to stay on the field as long as the players were still playing, even if your pom poms were soaking wet from the rain. Thirdly, the amount of spare time you had to sacrifice to train between classes and assignments made you contemplate whether everything was worth the time and energy. 

How did you get into this position you may ask? Well, your friend Gaeul thought it was really funny to sign your name in the recruitment paper, dragging you along into her crusade of becoming the queen bee of the campus, even though she could very much have achieved that without you.

But the last drawback was the final nail to the coffin; it was embedded into the heads of all the new first-year students by the cheerleading captain that relationships with the rugby players were forbidden. Be sure to cooperate with that one rule and avoid getting kicked out of the team immediately.

Honestly, you weren’t sure how the feud between the rugby and cheerleading teams even happened in the first place. Your captain said that it goes way back, passing through alums, but you weren’t interested in history to remember the rest.

This drawback wouldn’t have affected you if only it weren't for Park Jongseong coming into the picture.

The secretive romance between you and him has been carefully built up behind the scenes, mostly because the amount of mutual friends you’ve shared with him ensues the moment you wake up naked in bed beside you after a very drunk party. 

Dealing with overly chatty teammates every day did have its perks, and based on what you can recall, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for the rugby players and cheerleaders to hook up with one another in silent compliance; whatever happens in bed, remains in bed. The players were informed of the same rule by their own captain about the rule which only further confirms the weird rivalry between the two teams. 

Having that little reassurance, you were sure the one-night stand was a one-off thing, but it seemed Jay wasn’t ready to let go of you yet. 

Months of his flirtatious advances led to the classified yet cliche friends-with-benefits relationship you had established with him. And sex with Park Jongseong was inhumanely insane, like out of this world fucking good that it hurts to even think of how his hips move in and out of you.

You could list all the places you’ve had sex with him; in a frat party, in an empty lecture hall— hell, you’ve even gone as far as fucking in the shower stall with him in the male’s locker room, only because you had waited for him when the players had an extended practice from the coach.

The cocky, rough sex in his car after his team won a match? That was just the cherry on top. 

All because you two couldn’t find a meeting place without everyone else's peering eyes, making it harder to hook up. 

At first, you were sure you had only entertained him because of the banging part but my god, the number of butterflies in your stomach every time he winked in your direction in the field, or when you were sick, he had discreetly visited your dorm through your window in the middle of the night to see if you were okay. 

Falling in love wasn't on your agenda, and as much as you hate the cheerleading club, you weren’t looking for trouble, yet he was exactly one. 

When the feelings were growing more than just sexual intimacy, the emotions took over. He kissed you passionately on the lips that it wasn't humanly possible for someone to show love through action alone, but this was Jay we’re talking about; he was able to make the impossible possible. 

With that remark, you found yourself making love with him that night, and the boyfriend-girlfriend relationship between you two was kept under public scrutiny, even with your teammates and friends. 

Or so you thought. 

“I think I kinda know who Jay's mysterious girlfriend is.” 

A chorus of hard coughing emitted from your throat when you choked on your drink, causing Gauel to look at you worryingly. The loud bass of the frat party almost swallowed her voice down. 

“You okay, Y/N?” 

You wave her off, closing your mouth to control the fits. “I’m— I’m fine. Who is it? I mean, who’s Jay’s girlfriend?” You nonchalantly ask, but the panic clawing in your chest starts to hurt. 

She gave you a once-over before replying. “Yeonjin from the drama club. Apparently, she used to pin him for months now. The other cheerleaders kinda conspiracies that it might be her.” 

Okay, you always hear gossip between your teammates, but why is this the first time you’ve heard it? 

Yes, you both agreed it was a good charade to tell people— talking about your significant other like separate entities as if you weren’t dating each other. A reasonable excuse for many advances and open invitations that includes your friend’s antics. 

However, you were starting to regret doing it because you have a feeling that your teammates aren’t the only people with a blabbermouth. If not, there wouldn’t be a hunt for Jay Park’s alleged girlfriend among the student body. 

You sighed, moving deeper into the foyer to give way to the drunk students walking down the stairs. “We should stop snooping around like this. There’s a reason why he wants to keep his girlfriend a secret in the first place.” 

You gave her a pointed look before continuing. “Such as from people like you.” 

“Come on, Y/N!” Gaeul exasperated, leaning in to give you a lethal combo of puppy eyes and pouty lips that you know so well. “Aren’t you at least a teensy weensy curious about who she is?” 

“No.” You deadpanned, using your index finger to poke at her forehead, successfully pushing her away from your personal space. “What I’m interested in is getting more alcohol so I won’t hear whatever nonsense you’re spouting next.” 

Gauel frowned. “You suck.” 

You snort, raising your red cup at her mockingly as you head towards the kitchen. It was a much less crowded area. You could spot slightly more sober students chatting away while mixing a concoction of mocktails to dare each other to chug. After pouring yourself a cup of soda to clear your head, you lean against the cabinet, deep in thought. 

The sound of music and revelry blast through the kitchen when the door opens, followed by its absence when the person steps into the room. 

You kept glancing at the new presence through your lashes. A sharp tanned jawline, slick back raven hair and clothes fitting him deliciously well that got you biting on your lower lip. When he looks around and catches your figure, his eyes glint in pleasure with a small smirk. 

“Hey.” He greeted flirtatiously once he was close. 

“I have a boyfriend.” You impassively respond against the cup's rim without sparing him a glance. 

His chuckle was deep, almost tugging at your heartstrings. “Must be a stupid boyfriend for leaving his beautiful girlfriend alone.” He leaned against the cabinet adjacent to you, placing his red cup on the marbled surface. 

“You have no idea,” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms around your chest. “He hasn’t taken me out on dates for weeks. Too preoccupied with the other love of his life.”

You baited back, accentuating the last few words to insinuate one particular sport he played. The grip on your cup tightens when he pushes himself off, moving close to tower over your height. 

“Then what does he have to do to make it up to you?” He whispered curiously, peering down and boring his dark eyes with yours until you couldn’t break the trance he had on you. 

When he places both hands on the surface behind you, caging you in only his addicting scent and his face so close that it becomes hard to breathe, you become overly conscious that the students in the room would notice the both of you.  

The proximity of the sight would paint the whole picture perfectly.

“D-Don’t…..” You warned meekly, but your mouth went numb when he leaned so close that if he moved even an inch more, your lips would collide and erupt into flames from the dormant amber. The alcohol in your veins told you to kiss him, but your head was actively fighting to prevent that. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Does he have to be on his knees?” Your eyes followed how he sensually wet his lower lip with his tongue. Your heart was beating against your ribcage at the sight, biting the inside of your cheeks.

He tilted his head to the side, his breath fanning the high points of your cheeks. “Looking up at you while his mouth works between those trembling legs?” 

Shit, shit, shit— 

“Jay, not here." You place a palm against his chest to retaliate, finding the strength to lower your face to the ground. "Please.” You added with a shaky voice, swallowing down the lump of saliva with your eyes closed. 

There was a slight stillness and tension in the air before you heard the creaking noise of the cabinet above you.

“Relax, Y/N.” He reassures you softly. The weight of his proximity dissipates, and you finally breathe a breath of relief. He moves away to stand in front of you with a bottle of alcohol. 

“Just getting something above you.” He winks and breaks into a grin when you give him an annoyed frown.

Of course, he’ll use every opportunity to tease the shit out of you, but the beating of your heart never ceases, even after his little farce riles you up. You were glad that the dimmed lights hid the flush on your cheeks. 

“Asshole.” You muttered spitefully behind a hand.

He poured the liquid into his cup before filling up yours as well. He chose to ignore you cursing at him with a little smile. 

“If you ever find yourself getting bored while waiting for your boyfriend tonight,” He says, slowly backing away while still facing you. “You’ll know where to find me.” He gave you a quick once over before trudging away into the party. 

With him no longer here, you feel the emptiness you felt for the last two weeks without him sinking in. 

You turned to the left and saw the group of students still preoccupied with their recreational stuff, the amount of alcohol making them more delirious and loud. Good, you thought before grabbing the drink to go and search for your friend— waiting for the time to pass until the whole party was intoxicated. 

When the humidity of the place starts to smell like liquor and the students begin to lose themselves in the music in the dead of night, you carefully make your way up to the second floor. You’ve sneaked here many times before, knowing where each door leads. 

You’ve made sure to control how much you drank but can’t help feeling tipsy with Gaeul constantly dragging you for shots of vodka. Opening the door to a familiar bedroom makes you feel more agitated and nervous. 

Jay’s taste in decoration was the definition of suave; the room was polished and slick, much like its owner. You remember the first time he tangled you in his bed sheets or when you spent hours making out on his black leather sofa— the one he was sitting on right now.

“I take it that your boyfriend ditched you?” Jay calls out. 

He sat casually spread on the seat with his jacket thrown over the channel back. The loose t-shirt he wore hung over his board body, and the same red cup in the kitchen was placed on the coffee table. Classic Jay— he was waiting for you to come to him. 

“You should really stop with the act.” You replied, climbing to sit on his lap and straddling your legs on either side. 

Jay’s face twists into content, welcoming you to him by circling his hands around your waist. “Makes me feel like I’m really cheating on you right now.” You pouted, letting your fingers trace his exposed neck to his visible collarbone.

His hands cup your face, bringing you down until your forehead touches. He smelled compulsively musky with a hint of pungent booze at the end. 

“Sorry, love.” He whispered sweetly, but his eyes were filled with dark flickers. “I can’t help it when you look so damn cute when you’re flustered.” You wrap your hands around his neck. 

“Fucking tease.” You whispered back. He smiled effortlessly. 

“A tease only for you.” 

You could feel the serotonin kicking the moment he captured your lips. He felt slightly warm, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss. Your mouth dances with him in unison; the initial passion turns into obsession when the both of you realize how much you missed the taste of each other’s lips. 

His hand creeps up past your shirt, groping the sensitive skin of your sides. It made you moan softly in his mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue into you. You dug deeper into his lap, fingers gripping the raven locks of his hair, feeling absolutely drunk in his arms. 

The wet sound of saliva echoed throughout the room— two mouths continued to bite, suck, nibble and pant against one another. Your hips moved on their own, slowly rocking your clothed core on his bulge. The tight confinement of your bra came loose, falling to the floor before feeling his fingers pinching your hardened nipples.  

It was getting hot, and you were breathless when he broke the wet kiss. He was staring at you with hooded eyes as he continued to grope your breast underneath your shirt. 

“I fucking miss you so much.” He confessed, moving to attack your neck with wonton kisses. You hold him tighter by the hair, pulling your head back to give him more space. “You’re always on my mind. Your smile, your voice, your body. You’re driving me crazy every second, my love.” 

You whimpered, feeling him growing harder as he professed his undying agony for the past two weeks. He moves down to place his hands on your ass, encouraging you to keep humping on his hard-on while he licks your lower jawline. 

“Miss you too, baby.” You press your lips close to his ears, purposely moaning lewdly for only him to hear. “I’m always thinking about you, while I’m eating, while I’m in class, while I’m in my—“ 

You paused. “—while I’m in my bed at night.” 

The sentence came out more sensually than you meant, causing Jay to pull away to look at you. He saw the bashfulness in your expression before he morphed into realization at the innuendo of your words. 

“Did you touch yourself?”

When you didn’t answer him, he took that as confirmation. He inhales a sharp breath, and you can feel his fingers digging into your bare ass underneath your skirt, causing you to gasp and look at him. His jaw was slack, and his eyes were swimming with desire yet curious at the new revelation. 

“Show me.”

It wasn’t a request but a demand— a demand you couldn't refuse when he looked at you like a starved man. So you move out of his lap, sitting on the coffee table while facing him, removing your shirt to let your boobs bounce out. 

Fondling your breasts, you let out a whiny moan when you roll your puffy nipples with your thumb, the way you always do while you masturbate to the thought of him. It didn’t help that your mounds were already sore to the touch at his ministrations a second ago. 

Jay was really enjoying the sight, removing his shirt while keeping his eyes on you. 

His body was carved like a Greek god— beautiful taunt muscles at every region with a sun-kissed glow; watching his biceps flex as he loosened his belt and pulled his pants down. 

“I know you touch yourself more than that.” He urged from his seat, palming himself through his briefs. “Show me how you play with that pretty pussy for me.” 

His voice was like a spell— coaxing you to remove your skirt and peel your soaked panties off. Placing your feet on the table’s surface, you spread your legs to expose every inch of your pussy for only his eyes to feast. You can’t help but whimper at how he was eye fucking your entirety. 

Pushing two fingers into your mouth, you coat your fingers with saliva before slipping them between your thighs. You were drenched— every slip of your fingers between your folds spilled more juices that puddled on the crack of your ass. 

“That’s it, fuckin’ beautiful.” His muttered praises only made you moan louder, peeking through heavy eyelids as you watched him jerk his big cock to the rhythm of your fingers while the other rested at the back of his head. 

You open your legs wider, pushing two fingers into your entrance, absolutely enamoured by the feeling of him watching you finger yourself that’s making your body burn into a pile of ashes. It was not easy on him either— watching you pleasure yourself got him lightheaded and head oozing with precum. 

“Is that how you fuck that pretty pussy with your fingers, hmm? Stretching that perfect hole wide like how I would with my cock?”

“Jongseong.” You crooned desperately, falling to rest your back on the table. Your thumb found its place on your clit, rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves until your hips were bucking the air, inwardly screaming at the blinding pleasure. 

“Fuck.” He cooed, wincing as he thumbed his sensitive head. “Look at you playing with your clit. So fucking sexy. That’s how you always feel, baby, so soft and sensitive on my fingers.” 

Jay’s filthy words spurred you on, plunging your fingers until they reached the spongy spot deep within, your back arching at the pleasure of the simple movement. But it wasn’t enough; the knot in your stomach would not come undone— the only thing that could quell your thirst was him. 

You craved his cock, needing it to split you open until you forgot your name.

“Jay, it's not enough.” You begged, sitting up with every strength you had. “I need you inside of me, please.” 

He sensed your hunger, your anguish— your desperation, and didn’t spare a second to open his arms to you. 

“Come here.”  

You immediately jump to straddle his lap, trembling hands holding onto his shoulders for leverage as you grip the base of his cock to align it with your entrance. Jay hissed at your touch, hands found purchase on your sides to support your weight. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Jay gently whispered, noticing how you impatiently tried to nudge the tip of his cock into your hole with frustration. “Slow down, love. I’m not going anywhere.” He cradles your cheek with both hands to pull you closer to his face, smiling softly once you look back at him. 

“Relax and don’t hurt yourself, okay? I can wait for you forever like this.” He pushed back your hair to mouth kisses just under your ear, causing your muscle to ease up at his touch, dissipating some of the eagerness that clouded your sanity. 

Taking a deep breath, you probe his tip to your hole and slowly sink his length with your eyes closed. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl.”

The way he purred, those words caused you to claw at his shoulders, his girth burning your walls so deliciously that you can’t help but clench around it. He massage your ass, letting you bottom down until you sit on his lap. 

“Ah god, Jongseong, you feel so amazing.” You gritted out, moaning rapturously at how full you felt with his cock, feeling the size and length of it moulding your womb. 

“My good girl, taking my cock so perfectly.” He thrusts up, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers curled into his messy locks to steady yourself, bouncing back to the movement of his hips.

Fuck, the way his cock dragged against your velvet walls, pressing on the deepest spot that brought you solace repeatedly— you were practically melting in his arms. 

Jay’s groans vibrate against your neck, feeling you clench and unclench around his length erratically. You were throbbing endlessly until all he could fathom was your scent and your sweet moans that consumed him with the desire to fuck you senseless.  

“You’re mine.” He breathed out, lunging a hard thrust that got you screaming. He slaps your ass, digging his teeth at the base of your neck, loving how you clung to him like he was your deity. He rutted into you, cock never slipping out, not even an inch.

The sound of skin slapping overthrew the music coming from the party downstairs. 

He growled. “All fucking mine.”

“A-ah, I’m all yours.” You swallowed, pressing your lips against his ear, lapping at the outer shell with want. “My mind, my body, my pussy— I belong only to you.” 

You have awakened the carnal urge he had suppressed for so long, making him stir into a frenzy, bringing you up and slamming you down on his cock so that all you could do was succumb to your orgasm. 

You could feel the knot in your tummy come undone, bathing you in the familiar warmth you longed for. Jay kissed your lips deeply, grinding a few more times before he too came with a heavy grunt, filling you up raw with ropes of hot cum.

You were blinded with pleasure, your vision slowly giving out, and all you could feel was the force of each other’s release. 

At that moment, you prayed to whoever above to promise you that heaven would feel as good as this.  

Once the air starts to clear up and Jay finished riding you out of your orgasm, he pulls his cock out of your spent pussy, his release dripping down your inner thigh while you lay limp in his arm. You could hear the heavy panting from both sides; exhaustion finally computed in your mind. 

He started to make motions to move you into a more comfortable position to clean you up. Your heart swelled with butterflies, reminding yourself why you had fallen for him in the first place. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his. “Later,” You persuade softly, inevitably stopping him from moving. “I want you to hold me closely.” 

“Okay.” He sighed, staring deep into your eyes.

It was lethal to your heart— how you could see the entire galaxy shining in the specks of his gaze. He smooths your back with the palms of his hands, lovingly pecking at the corner of your mouth. 

Your bodies fit into the compact confinements of the sofa, legs stretched out to tangle with each other. The side of your face rested on his arms, hugging him close until your bare skin touched. His other arm was draped around your waist, softly tracing the skin at the bottom of your spine. 

You're not sure how long you were staring at each other before he opened his mouth to mutter something in the embrace.

“You’re beautiful.” 

You giggled, shaking your head. “You’re more beautiful.” 

He burst into a laugh, eyes forming breathtaking crescent shapes, the afterglow of sex making him glimmer like the sun. The laughter soon quiets down, the soft sound of the bass downstairs filling the room. 

He looks at you once more, but the frown on his face catches you off guard. 

“I’m sorry I can’t spend more time with you.” He said. You recognize the guilt in his voice, pulling him closer to your body. “Just that the pressure from the coach and with all the other members being on edge with the final tournament…..”

You kiss his chest, feeling him sigh with relish at your lips on his skin. “It’s fine Jay, the last thing I want you to worry about is me. Focus on playing your best, and I’ll be there cheering once you win.”

He pushes back a strand of hair behind your ear, chuckling at your words of confidence.

“I promised to make it up to you.” His ardent oath caused you to snuggle into his chest, feeling him reciprocate your hug by placing his chin on the crown of your head. 

You mumbled close to his beating heart.

“Don't worry, I can wait for you forever like this.”

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[petalsofyouth]

bees that flew away | ran haitani x reader

warnings: drugs usage and alcohol consumption, implied self-harm, unreliable narrator, mentions of a rape (nothing graphic, it's just there), sweet gentle love.

wc: 16 473

author's note: i started writing it on the verge of death and it shows. in the middle of writing it i felt fine and finishing it i was dying once again. oh, and, also! it's a bit unedited. i doubt there are some actual crucial mistakes, but there must be something i overlooked, i'll get to it tmw. so bear in mind that it's unedited. i just wanted to post this, because otherwise i would delay it and delay it and delay it all over again.

_ The room is foggy and you wonder if it’s from five - you counted - lit cigarettes or it’s just your tired drunk brain. It wouldn’t be the first time you conjured something out of nothing. Shaped it in between your fingers and gave it form. Brought it to life.

Your lips quiver and you press them together, averting your red high eyes from you don’t know who. You probably look pitiful and scared because Haruchiyo reaches over and snakes his long arm around your shoulders, hugging you closer to his body. It’s hot in here, but for one reason or another, he is still wearing his favourite old leather jacket. Now, hours into the party, its surface absorbed all the nasty smells of this huge house in Yokohama. It stinks and you gag. 

His long bleached hair smells even worse and you gag again. This time closing your mouth with your palm and he looks at you, worry in his hooded eyes.

He should offer you a glass of water and maybe a ride home, you think. If he was a better - maybe normal - friend. But he does neither of that. He takes the joint from his lips and holds it close to your mouth. When you don’t move, just staring at him as if you don’t understand what he wants from you, he sighs and smiles.

Sweetly.

Haruchiyo is a sweet guy. Your best friend.

Deep down the fuckery that he is he is indeed very sweet and kind; pure.

“Come on,” he urges you, tapping on your shoulder. “Relax. Tensing up and thinking won’t do you any good. Be nice. Open your mouth.”

You do just that and when he places a cigarette between your lips you inhale. Toxic green smog invades your lungs and the nausea subsides. Once again you feel light and careless. You feel almost happy. The knocking on the back of your head and in your heart dies. Killed by your own stupid hands. If Rindou were here you suppose he would’ve been very mad at you. 

For killing and for not caring. For pretending. “Truth or dare?” 

The girl speaks to you and you know that. You feel her stare on yourself and if you weren’t so high you would see the expecting, oh so spiteful, glint in her eyes. If you were sober you would’ve noticed it and probably still would’ve done nothing.

That’s just the way you are. 

“Truth.” She licks her glowing with gloss lips and smiles. Her friend, a girl with uneven bangs and the longest hair you’ve ever seen in your life, just beneath her hips, giggles. They share a glance. A knowing one. The trap they settled for you closing with a loud thump. 

On the right side, with his arms across the girl's shoulders sits Ran Haitani. She’s almost between his legs, but not quite, and yet there’s a striking familiarity that surrounds them. Maybe it’s in a way his thumb caresses the bare skin of her shoulders or maybe it’s her leaning even more into his broad chest when she catches you watching them. 

Either way your hands shake and it might be the alcohol or weed or something entirely else. You don’t bring yourself to care. You simply can’t. 

“So,” the girl speaks. Despite the music and the fog around your senses you can hear her clearly. “Is it true that there are burning marks on your upper thigh?” You tense and beside you Haruchiyo tenses too. But the girl continues, “Is it true that you burnt yourself because you hate yourself? Is it true that you always do it high because you are a fucking coward to do it sober?” Your eyes are open and no matter how much you want to close them and squint them hard, you won’t. You stare at the girl as she spews your silly little sins out like they are nothing; like you are nothing. “Is it true that you wanted to fuck Ran, but he said no, because you are..?” 

She never finishes her sentence and for the rest of your life you can only guess what insult she had prepared for you. 

The table that stood between you falls to the side when Haruchiyo’s Docs comes in contact with it. Ashtrays, bags and glasses scatter on the hardwood floor and you stare at them for quite a time, unable to look at anything or anyone else. The girl screams and her friend screams too and suddenly you aren’t that high anymore and you want to get out of this house, of this party. Out of the sight of all those people. Your body trembles and Haruchiyo, who tightly holds your hand, nudges you to stand up. You do as he asks, because you're tired and because you’ll go anywhere he’ll take you. If Rindou was here, he would’ve hated you not fighting back, but he is not and you are glad there’s one reason less for him to be disappointed in you. “Pathetic fucking excuse of a woman,” Haruchiyo spits at the girl and you tune out, losing yourself in the broken glass on the floor. It’s pretty with myriads of lights - lives - in every broken shard. They are colourful and full of hidden senses you don’t understand. 

In the corner of your vision you notice Haruchiyo raising his free hand. The girl screams again and this time when you finally raise your eyes, you see her face and pretty white t-shirt with one of Sanrio characters on it wet with whatever alcohol Haruchiyo had in his cup. A few splashes of it hit Ran’s cheek and arm too, but it’s hard to say what he is thinking. He was never one to betray his mind and show it off to everyone and besides you don’t look at him for too long. The cup and the remnants of a joint goes straight to the floor too. Haruchiyo steps on them and curses again. 

“Tame your fucking bitch, Haitani. Next time I won’t see that she’s a woman.” With this you leave. Hand in hand, with bitter hearts, you swim between the people and friends, until you are out of the house, in the fresh air outside. The night that meets you is starry and cold and so it’s very beautiful. Both you and Haruchiyo, stand on the side of the street, near the house in silence, clearly absorbed in surroundings. There’s a black cat watching you across the pavement and somewhere in the bushes is a cicada. Or maybe there are many. You have no way of knowing. The smoke of the cigarette - a regular one - hits your nose and you wonder how in the world have you missed the familiar click of Haruchiyo’s favourite ZIPPO lighter. His older brother gifted it to him when he was barely fifteen. The gift is quite questionable and Haruchiyo is not very sentimental, but he always has it with him. There’s a naked woman engraved on it and he fooled you to believe that’s why. The door behind you sways open, but none of you is interested to know who it is. Maybe it’s no one important. Maybe you both should leave and forget this night like many others. But it’s Kakucho and he gently places his huge brown jacket across your shoulders and so you stay for a little bit longer. His harsh presence cuts the night in two and what happened before suddenly turns into an ugly illusion. The cat yawns and you are reminded of how late it actually is.  “True,” you say after the night digs dipper and the smoke of Haruchiyo’s cheap cig envelopes you. 

The boys are quiet. Kakucho turns his head to look at you and you smile shyly under his curious gaze. It’s not like anything really matters. 

“It’s true. Only I never wanted to fuck Ran. I just wanted to share the love I have for him.” Haruchiyo sighs, dropping unfinished cigarettes onto the pavement. You hope the cat's paws won’t touch it and burn. As it hurts when it burns. Very very much so. “Who the fuck cares if it’s true or not?” “I hate to admit it,” Kakucho sighs pretentiously, a kind smile smudged across his lips, “but I do agree with Haru. Who the fuck cares?” Drops of alcohol on his cheek. Little perfect pearls. Wet black blouse. Cold dead eyes. He doesn’t look at you. He never does. He used to, but not anymore and besides it was so long ago, it’s like it’s never happened. Old images of false memories your brain conjured by itself with a sole reason to feel something; anything at all. 

The cat disappears, night swallowing it whole, and you wish it would do the same to you. But beside you two boys bicker so loudly it would never happen. Their voices tie you to them and despite your strong wish to disappear into thin air, you are glad they make you stay. “Do you wanna get going? You are crashing at mine, right?” Haruchiyo asks, stretching out his hand, palm up. You don’t need to think about it, but you still do, taking a little pause before you reply. “Yes. I can’t show up like this at home. Mom’s gonna cry again.” None of these boys know what it means for a mom to cry. And yet they understand the ache and the heartbreak. The sacred prayer to be a better child someone somewhere could be proud of.

Before you part ways, you and Haruchiyo go to find his parked motorcycle and Kakucho his old sporty car he bought with money he probably stole from someone, you shrug Kakucho’s jacket off your shoulders. “No. Take it. You can return it any other time. I don’t mind.” He smiles at you and his smile reaches his eyes. 

_ 

Haruchiyo’s apartment is small, but it’s only his and that is something to be proud of. 

The bathroom is all fogged up from the hot shower you just took. You slip into a pair of clean boxers, old grey sweatshirts and plain white t-shirt. They don’t smell like anything, but they are so undeniably Haruchiyo’, your heart swells. You love your best friend to death. 

“I hate the post high,” he murmurs when you sleep under the duvet next to him. “How are you feeling?” “Like shit and worse.” 

He giggles, but then he grows serious and his hand slides across the bed. He is searching for your hand, to take it into his and calm you down, to show his love. You help him find it. “Your scars are just scars and she is just a bitch. Don’t think about her.” When you don’t reply, he adds. “I know you do. You are breathing strangely.” And when you don’t say anything else, he speaks again. “I have never spoken about those things with anyone. And I can give my head that Rindou hadn’t either. I don’t know how she knows.” 

Those things that are your feelings, your inner world and ugly cracks all over your body. 

Those fucking things. Involuntarily, without your mind's consent, you curl into yourself. Cold attacks your limbs like thousands of small invisible needles and you weep, and Haruchiyo understands why and for what. All the reasons are so plain, they are written in black ink on white paper. You hate that you are so easy to crack open. You want to be something else entirely. 

“I love you,” he shifts closer to you and soon you are one body, “However you are. Okay?” His long beautiful fingers hold your own hands near his bare chest. He twirls your many many rings and swipes his thumb across your skin. Haruchiyo is a gentle creature and you don’t know where it all went wrong and when sleeping pills in his cupboard became dust to snort up his nose. 

“Okay.” 

He smiles at that and checks the window behind you. It’s still dark. The dawn - nowhere in sight. Good. So so so good. Before he closes his eyes, he presses his lips against your damp forehead and then under each of your eyes, kissing the tears and headache away. Somehow he manages to do just that and you fall asleep with a light heart. _

Two summers ago, on the warm evening of the last August day, your careless youth slipped away from you.

It’s an irony that it happened when the sun was setting and a small part of you remained forever imprisoned in that pleasant August day, while another you strode forward to some distant place in the night, where you shouldn’t have been at all. 

You were wearing a pretty sparkling dress and you were all dolled up and beautiful and yet that wasn’t enough.

With your hands behind you, supporting your body and legs stretched forward, you sat on the porch of the Haitani’s house. The sun had already dipped behind the grey buildings and Roppongi, the heart of nightlife in Tokyo, was just summoned back into existence. Sometimes it felt like during the day this bright area was almost dead, barely breathing, due to the sheer constant of blinding lights it birthed at night. 

The all too thoughtfully magazine under your butt did little to protect you from the coldness of the ground. You shivered uncomfortably and gazed at the boy standing in front of you. Ran was always a dream. So handsome. So mature. So perfect with all the hard edges of his character and soft plump of his lips. 

So so so so so. 

It was embarrassing how in love with him you were and it was more embarrassing, almost devastatingly so, that you fell for him the first day you met him. You still remember how the three of you - Ran, Rindou and you - stood near the vending machine under the metal roof of the small bookshop. It was heavily raining then and you were waiting for the droplets to stop. For the storm to cease and for you to go home. You remember Ran’s beautiful face and you remember how he lit up a cigarette and you remember how his body shivered because he was cold and how he smiled when he caught you staring at him. How he said nothing and how that pretty smile of his never left his face until you closed the door of your home and bid them goodbye. 

That day you were supposed to go to a party. Ran was supposed to drive you in his new shiny car and you were supposed to have a good time. Your best friend was already on the train to Roppongi, just one station away and Rindou was still inside the house, torn between white blouse and a grey t-shirt. He didn’t want to appear too casual and yet dressing up never sat right with him. 

Maybe if one of them were with you nothing would’ve happened and maybe you would’ve stayed. 

But none of them were. Only Ran and his stupid smile that fell off his soft lips the moment you confessed. The frown settled on his face then, and he was silent for a very long time, until he spoke and it became dark. 

“You know, I don’t do sloppy seconds. You kinda are my brother’s. It's like… I am sorry. It just won’t work out.”  

Once warm air quickly turned dry and you were suffocating. Heart beating too fast and not enough to spread blood across your cold frigid body, you stood up from the porch and without a mere word strode down the road. Ran didn’t say a word. He didn’t go after you. He didn’t call. And if you were to turn back, you would’ve known that he didn’t even look after you as you were slowly disappearing between the building and despair. 

The rest of the evening passed in blur. There’s no recollection in your mind of how you ended up in that particular bar and how you spent the little yen you had on you. Till this day, you believe it is your brain that is protecting you from sleazy hands of men across your body, shielding you from the force of pain that overtook you once they had your way with you. You don’t remember much because you were drunk and high, but you remember when Rindou ran into the toilet of that bar and looked away from your abused body splattered on the floor. And you can still hear the sob your friend let out when she saw you. And if you try hard enough you can still feel the love of Rindou’s blouse when your best friend dresses you up in it. Her warm hands on your marked dirty skin.  

And of course, you remember the day after, when you woke up in her bed and you both sobbed together, until numbness overtook you and you surrendered to it like a warm hug from the life of your life. 

Since that very day, two summers ago, when your little heart was broken and your youth bid you a gruesome farewell, Ran Haitani hadn’t spoken to you at all. It’s like instead of you there was a blank waste of a space and somehow you could understand him. You could justify his silence. 

_ 

The headache after a hangover is never kind. Mixed with a loud banging on the door and muffled - thanks God - shouts of the Rindou it is truly the worst. 

The inner sides of his fists are red, but irritated skin shows barely an ounce of the frustration and anger that bubble in Rindou’s throat. His always so pretty face, now scarred by fury, is what gives him away and by the force with which he kicks off his boots, you can tell he wasn’t trying to ease himself or hide how he is feeling. “What the actual fuck,” he shouts and neither Haruchiyo who stands near the still open door, nor you still in bed under thick blanket can’t tell if this is a question or a statement. 

His body rigid and eyes burning an unfriendly fire Rindou throws his bag on the ground near the wooden dinner table that Takeomi brought in Haruchiyo’s apartment - or rather picked it up from the garbage -  and strides through the only room to you. “Get up and strip,” he commands and his voice so unnerving, so angry and forceful leaves no space for you to retreat to. You hate when he is doing this, but you understand why and his quivering lips and red dust across his cheeks are enough for you to forgive him. It’s hard for him too. 

Loving you and caring for you is hard. But it’s not a new found truth so it’s easy to fathom it in your bones.

You shed clothes that aren’t even yours, easily. One by one they pile up near your legs, a protective shell broken and discharged, until you stand there in your panties and palms for a bra. Haruchiyo curses and averts his gaze. He despises these little checks-up Rindou does and he resents that you are letting him do them every single time. Not once you said “no”.

Smooth hands glide across your skin. Between legs, under your arms, right down the spine. Optical examination ceased to be effective long ago when you put makeup on the newish wound you inflicted upon yourself. Now, Rindou had to be sure. Now, he needed your safety ensured by his own two hands. You wonder if he does all these, because he feels guilty. Because he thinks what happened to you is partially his fault. You had this conversation with him already and it ended in you sobbing and him so angry you were almost afraid of him, but not nearly. Rindou, too, is sweet and kind. Maybe a little bit more so than Haruchiyo. 

That’s why you aren’t asking anything anymore. Instead of a question you puff out a little air from between your lips. Rindou’s head shots up and he looks at you, his eyes hidden behind the thin metal rim of his glasses. You suppress a laugh. Something in between his white and blue locks charges you with merriness. 

He watches you as you press your lips together and adjust his glasses higher up his nose. He is not amused, you can tell that much, but he isn’t angry anymore and that is a relief. And he let you touch his glasses, something he never allows anyone to do [except you, but not when he is in a bad bad bad mood]. So, you decide, the storm is over. The waves are calm. 

“Not even gonna ask what you are laughing about,” he mumbles, inspecting your ankles and when he finds nothing, he stands up from the floor, not before picking up the clothes on the floor. 

“Your eyes,” you make a vague gesture with your fingers in front of your own face, “They were just hidden and you looked so… I don’t know… Never mind, Rin.” In front of you in the kitchen fighting with a kettle Haruchiyo snorts. There’s a herbish aroma and something almost too sweet circulating in the air and it’s so strong it startles you. Too absorbed in Rindou you didn’t notice the smell before. Another Haruchiyo’s tea concoction. Hopefully, this time successful. 

“Did you two get high yesterday?” Rindou asks, going inside the kitchen - it’s hard to tell where the bedroom ends and kitchen starts since Haruchiyo’s apartment is a studio - and peeking over Haruchiyo’s shoulder. “You laugh even more in the post-haze than you do while you are at it.” The silence that settles is murmuring all the nasty things that happened yesterday right in Rindou’s ears. He looks between the two of you exchanging glances and sighs. 

“Whatever. Honestly, I am not even interested. I am here this early only because your mom called.” At this, you stop, your sweatpants half way your legs. You would’ve called Rindou out for lying, because he is here not only because of your mother’s call, but because he simply can not stop caring for you. But then, when your parent calls Rindou it’s never a good thing. It’s always about your scars, your secrets and your lies. 

This time, however, you know why she called him and you sit down on the bed, feeling like the smallest tiniest human being in the whole world. You hate this feeling of a deep humiliation. You want to burn yourself to not remember the ache in your tightened jaw and the disgusting sweat on your clammy palms. 

“If this is about the blades under my bed I didn’t buy them to… har… cut myself. I bought them for postcards.” 

He doesn’t buy it. He bites his lip and shakes his head, waiting for you to continue. “I am telling the truth, Rindou. I bought them to cut out postcards. I… I…” Hot tears pool in your eyes and you hate that he doesn’t believe you and you so badly want to pity yourself, but you can’t. Can’t do this. Because it’s your own fault no one trusts your words and promises anymore. When they look at you and pity you it’s done by your own hands. Hands you too want to burn. 

“Oh, baby, stop,” Haruchiyo helps you pull your sweatpants up and then he ties the drawstrings for you, his body - a shield between you and Rindou, “you didn’t cut yourself with those blades, did you?” “No, I swear, I didn’t,” you repeat it a few times and the only thing that makes you stop mumbling is the pain that seeps through Haruchiyo’s eyes into your heart. 

“Well, good to hear, but you will have to buy a pair of scissors for your postcards, because I threw away those blades you hid under your bed.”  

A clammy hands of desperation tighten around your neck and you want to scream. From frustration and from anger, from despair. Was it like this back too? Your every word carefully weighed and put on the pedestal to judge? You don’t think so. For better or for worse you can’t remember how it was before, but you wonder when everyone will just give up on you. 

With a loud screech against the chair against the floor, Rindou stands up. He takes a few steps and gently shoves Haruchiyo away from you. His long white hair swaying in the air. Haruchiyo smiles at you, reassuringly, kindly and the pools of grim pain evaporate from his beautiful eyes. Love heals, you think. So then, why do you remain sick? “You know how much I care about you, do you?” Rindou asks, cupping your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “I’ll do anything for you to be healthy, happy and well. If it means I have to be harsh with you then I will. And if it means you will hate me somewhere on the way, so be it. But I won’t let you down again. Get this in your head. I. Am. Not. Letting. You. Down. Ever. Again.” Haruchiyo turns away and gets to his kettle and tea. And you finally silently cry cradled into Rindou’s warmth. Humiliation washes away with salty tears and the ever so heavy guilt crashes upon your shoulders. It’s better than anything, you think. Because that means you still care too and that means you are alive and well and there’s hope that one day all the check-ups and blades and tears will be in the past. 

You believe in this. 

Haruchiyo’s tea turns out not so bad and you and Rindou have two cups, one and half each. 

_ 

That day you come home late in the evening. 

You still wear Haruchiyo’s clothes and have Kakucho’s jacket thrown over your shoulders. The sneakers you place on the shoe rack - dusty black Adidas - are yours. This random sudden thought makes you happy and for the first time in a while you bubble with excitement. Over shoes. It can’t be normal. It’s not normal. Probably just a lingering side-effect of weed or bottled up emotions in which Rindou effectively made a hole once again. Inside the living room, under tonkatsu, sits your family. They are watching TV over dinner. You see an empty plate and an empty space reserved just for you and your giddy happiness holts. You had dinner with Rindou and Haru already and you aren’t hungry. Guiltiness spreads across your lungs like a web of poisonous spiders. 

Your mother is the one who sees you first. She is wary and tired when she looks at you, but this is nothing new. Your father turns back to look at you too, he nods and returns to the TV as soon as he can. He says, you should join them and eat something, you must be starving. You nod and wave at your little sister. She waves back. 

You go inside your room.

No one said anything about new shining scissors you had in your hand that Rindou bought for you. 

No one came to check on you and you didn’t have dinner together. 

_ You skip school for the next few days. 

There’s no particular reason. You just don’t feel like going. 

In front of you, there’s a void and it’s luring you in. Black colour, so inviting and beautiful. Inside of a space avoidant of anything and everything, where no air is floating, you are blossoming. The slightest aroma of laundry detergent and fresh baked cookies are so hard to resist and this is exactly what this imaginary [not so] place of yours smells like. You wish you could stay there forever. 

You almost do. 

But then your phone rings and the number is unknown. Yet, you have the slightest hunch of who it could be. That’s why you pick it up. 

“Hey! You have no idea how hard it was to get your number. You do have some seriously overprotective friends,” Kakucho laughs echoes through that night where you met a black cat to now  and then right into your ear. 

You hum, holding your phone in the safest place between your ear and shoulder, “I guess you could say that. Why are you calling? Oh! I am sorry I totally forgot to give you your jacket back. Do you wanna meet up somewhere? I am free now.” 

He laughs again and you notice that his laugh is boisterous and contagious. It’s almost childish in its raw sincerity. You haven’t heard people being that happy in a long long time. In a reminiscence the corner of your lips stretch up on their own. “What about… Can you be at Shibuya station in twenty minutes?” “I can try.” “Cool. I'll see you there then!” 

He hangs up just as abruptly as he called and the taste in your mouth is not of sweet abyss cookies, but of metal and caramel. It’s exciting in the most lazy manner. 

Outside, running down the street, to catch the bus on time, you notice the vast blue sky that is so clear it looks like it’s made of glass. You stop on the crossroad, hands on your hips, and take a few shallow breaths. Running was never and will never be your forte, but you stare at the infinite beauty that covers the whole earth and all people living on it, and wonder why haven’t you got out of the house earlier. 

_ Kakucho takes you to a nice barbeque place. 

It’s a chain restaurant, so the food is quite cheap and nice. You order two bowls of rice, beef, soup and kimchi. Kakucho gets himself Sapporo beer and you ask for iced lemon tea which he claims doesn’t go well with meat, but still smiles when you sip it. 

He is sitting opposite you in a small booth made for two people only. He is wearing a black turtleneck and plain jeans that can’t be that expensive, but they do look like he paid more than twenty thousand yen to get them. On the back of his chair hangs yet another leather jacket. The one he gave you sits in the Mitsukoshi bag under the table near your leg. 

In everything he does, Kakucho is effortless and confident. He grills the meat for you and he carries the conversation for you too. He asks you about school, about your hobbies, your likes and dislikes and even learns what your favourite colour is. 

Half through this spontaneous dinner you understand that this was never about returning his jacket. At least for him. But then, it’s his dark black hair that he spontaneously decided to grow out almost two years ago after he got tired of seeing that ugly bald dude with a scar in reflection every morning. [This you too learn over the food and while you want to tell him that by no means he can be considered ugly, you suppress yourself and listen to his soothing voice carrying you to yet another story already.] They are so black, they almost have this blue-ish inky feeling to them. And somehow looking at him so smiley, so kind and so handsome, so welcoming and accepting, so invested in every few words you say, he reminds you of those beautiful warm summer nights. Not the one that happened two summers ago, but all the ones before that. It’s a burning sensation and it calms you. 

You think, if he wants you might give him a chance. 

It’s dark when you go outside and back to the metro station. 

“Next time I’ll see you I’ll bring my car. I feel really bad, but my car is in the service. The engine has been acting up.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kakucho,” you say counting the colourful kaleidoscope of the stained glass window of the random shop, you pass by. You connect every piece to seconds that fly away and they make beautiful constellations. “Just think it’s a good thing you are taking me home then and we are going by foot and not driving there. I am bad with directions. But now you are going to remember where I live and next time you can pick me up right from home. You know, just to pay for all the walking we did today.” He bites his smile back, lips pressed tightly together, but it fights him and reaches his eyes. They shine. _ “Since when are you and Kakucho going out?” 

You sit on the floor of Haruchiyo’s apartments with a scissor in your hands. Bright patterned paper, stickers, glue and so many other things you sure are two boys in the room with you don’t even know the name of, lay in a circle surrounding you. It’s messy, but Haruchiyo who lays on the bed, behind you and watches every single creative step you take, doesn’t seem to mind. 

In fact he never does. 

“We are not going out,” you mumble, eyes focused on cutting the most precisely shaped heart without an outline. “We’ve been hanging out. That’s all.” Rindou doesn’t seem to be convinced. He glances over to Haruchiyo laying on his stomach, blond hair a curtain, and sighs. 

“You do know, he has a thing for you?” “Well, I mean I kinda do, but I am sure it’s not anything serious. Who would’ve been in lo…” “He punched Ran at that party and they haven't talked since then.” 

The scissors stop and the bright yellow heart falls to the ground. It’s nicely and evenly cut out, but something about it isn’t right and you can’t tell what it is and you are spiralling and nothing can stop you now, because fire is nowhere in reach. You scratch your left thigh. 

“I didn’t wanna tell you, but…” “I am glad Kaku did it. I am sorry Rin, but it was actually very nasty there and if not for her,  I would’ve killed his bitch first and then kill him,” you hear the springs in the old mattress squeak and then Haruchiyo plops right next to you, making a space for himself between glue bottles, colourful tapes and you. “Ran never told her anything, because he didn’t even know, and I never told Ran or anybody about it. It wasn’t my brother’s fault she ran her mouth. For all I know Ran and her were never even together.” “Oh, really? Then how the fuck does she know?” The anger rising up in Rindou scorches you and you wince, but boys being boys, playing their own little war don’t notice it. “How would I know that? I just know that even if Ran knew he would never speak about it with anybody else!” “For fuck’s sake, Rindou, I know he is your older brother and you always admired him and…” 

The words bleed. The wounds they leave suffocate. You plaster a yellow heart over a red cardboard. You draw millions of hearts around it. You wish they’d stop now, but you know them both well enough, to know they won’t. You know how much Rindou loves Ran and how much Haruchiyo thinks everything that happened to you is because of Ran. But it’s not. What happened to you has never been Ran’s fault and you won’t let anyone think that. Not even your sweet pretty Haruchiyo. “I believe it,” you say loudly enough to stop them. “In fact, I know it wasn’t Ran who told her. Ran is not like that and… I… I just know he didn’t know about it. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Ran and it’s not his fault. Neither it’s his responsibility or yours.” Splashes of alcohol across his cheek and wet t-shirt. The look on his face. Of pure horror and so many regrets. It wasn’t Ran. It could never be him. 

Rindou and Haruchiyo mend over the sweet sour chicken you make for them. They laugh, and joke and make those stupid boyish remarks only male in their twenties can. But you forgive them for that and for everything else too, like they do the same for you. 

It’s when Rindou examines your newest red card with yellow heart and I LOVE YOU RINDOU written across it, he brings the subject of Kakucho back. “Just so you know, I won’t hesitate to add another scar to his face.” Haruchiyo snorts, “Aren’t you two like best gym buddies?” “Yes we are. But he doesn’t make me postcards. And want it or not, but my loyalty lies with my brother so we aren’t speaking either.” 

Haruchiyo never comments anything on it and neither do you, but for the rest of the evening and well into the night when you lay down in Haruchiyo bed and try your best to sleep, you can’t help it, but think where does your loyalty lay? To what latitude does it extend and what seconds are most important to you to get back to them over and over again. _ 

It’s summer and you are in Kyoto. You are in your last school year and life has never ever been more beautiful. The green around you has the most vibrant colour and the sun above you is the warmest it has ever been. You close your eyes, spread your arms and melt. If you had to choose a moment to live in forever it would be this. 

There’s a festival going on in town. You hear music and people laughing. You smell chicken and something very very sweet. But despite this cacophony of smells and sounds, you also hear birds chirping and because of that your heart beats twice as fast. It’s a pretty feeling and you hope your heart will stay this way forever. 

Ran finds you kneeling in front of the small flower cart in front of the flower shop. You are so engrossed in the scenery of random shapes and ethereal feelings to them, you don’t notice him at all. Or so he thinks, because it’s very very difficult for you not to sense Ran’s presence.

It’s even harder not to feel his lazy stare on you and it’s impossible to not be burned by his crooked hazy smile as he watches you pecking tender petals with your fingertips.  

“Where’s Rin?” You ask, eyes focused on the bright pink flower. Ran takes a step, then another one and then he squats by your side, shoulders touching, the flower unnoticed. “With Kakucho, your two friends and Haruchiyo at a sportswear store.” “What?” Head snapping to the side, you study his face, to see if he is teasing you and while his lips are stretched in a smile, you don’t think he is. 

“I know. I am surprised Haruchiyo tagged along with them,” he stops talking, his lips form a straight concerned line and the crease between his blonde eyebrows makes you want to press a fingertip in there to soothe it. 

But instead of you reaching out to him, it’s him raising his hand to your shoulder. You hear a little buzzling near your ear, see the blue vast sky and people swarming behind Ran and you feel so warm, so safe, so i-wanna-freeze-this-moment. And you don’t know why your heart clenches the way it does and why your hands get clammy. 

“It’s a little bee,” Ran says, eyes fascinated by the small creature sitting on his finger. “Probably mistook you for a flower.” He laughs and shakes the bee away. It falls in the air, but as if remembering it can actually fly, spreads its little tiny wings and goes off. To the crowd. To the festival. To so many shared happy moments. 

“Do you want to go eat something? I am starving and on my way here I saw a decent looking place that serves yukke.” “Can we get Yatsuhashi after?” you stand up first, your head a bit dizzy from squatting for so long. Ran grins and nods, “Anything you want.” It’s on the way to the more than decent looking, but high-class restaurant that Ran takes you to, in the middle of your conversation that you remember about the flowers you were so fascinated with. There was no tag on them and you weren't sure they were even for sale, and yet you wished you went inside the shop and asked. Everything needs a name to stay. Today, Ran is eager to provide you with one. “It’s camellia. The flower you were looking at. Did you like it?” 

The sun is still high up in the sky and people are still walking. The Gion Matsuri festival will last for another three days. “Since when can you tell flowers?” 

You are genuinely interested and maybe that’s why Ran responds. You are sure he wouldn’t otherwise. 

“Mom used to have a book on flowers. Encyclopaedia. Was obsessed with them and how do you think she came up with the name for me and Rin? Obviously took them from there. It was the only thing that remained after she left. Along with our names.” 

“Well, you and Rindou remained too and then that old apartment of yours.” The smile blooms on his face again. He points at the restaurant with his finger and leads you there, “That apartment was actually of our beloved father. I wanted to set it on fire, but Rin talked me out of it.” 

Somehow you know once again he is telling you the truth. The fire, him and Rindou, and the book that for one reason or so many more others he kept and read so many times, he could tell camellia apart from other flowers. 

“Anyway, do you think bees migrate?” Inside the restaurant almost all tables are busy, but Ran finds you a perfect place near the outdoor garden for two people. You get a haunting feeling like it was waiting for you. “You mean migrate like birds do?” “Yeah,” he says casually overlooking the menu, “Oh, they have your favourite iced lemon tea. I always thought it’s amusing how you never drink anything hot.”  

“I don’t like hot things. They burn. I hate it when it burns,” you do and you don’t think you’ll ever change. “And to answer your question, I don’t think bees migrate. I’ve never seen them flying around freely like birds.” “I’ve never seen a single bee in Roppongi. Today's gotta be my first time.” You end up ordering a lot more than you both can eat. It’s always like this with Ran and you think you know why. You think you understand him, and his questions and a lot more things he tries to keep confined in that heart of his. 

Like an encyclopaedia of flowers and bees that flew away.  

_ You and Kakucho will never end up together. Not in this universe, not in any other. He is the first one to break it to you, but you were the first to realise. 

The truth is swallowed under bright cold stars. There’s not much light on the pier where you are lying down on the cold grey cement, but the roar of crashing waves and flickering lights of bulk carriers’ lamps are enough to guide you home. If needed. 

“I feel like I could love you, but you won’t let me,” he says and these words are mere whispers that take the form of a knife. Dull or sharp doesn’t matter. It still cuts your skin in two and you bleed. This is nothing new. 

“Maybe you are right,” is all you say. Your hands on your belly, you imagine sharks, three of them, emerging from the water and ripping you apart. They have five rows of deadly sinful teeth that will shred your flesh in seconds before you become part of them and the sea. You won’t die and you’d feel pain until sun blasts and the Earth will pause to exist and you with it. But no sharks come out and you are breathing. 

“I still want to be your best friend, though,” Kakucho turns to his side, prompts his head on his palm and peers in your face. “If you want to, of course.” 

Under his gaze, you think he’s searching for something. You want to tell him not to, because he won’t find it there. There’s no fight left in you. It’s all in vain, all in vain! “Nah. Those roles are taken,” you are only half-joking, but he doesn’t have to know that. “You can try though.” “Oh, I will. I will try my very best. I still like you. It’s not like it will go away any time soon.” If sharks do come, you pray, please don’t kill Kakucho too. He deserves to live a long nice life with a person who will love his gentle soul. But again, no sharks come, and you and him are alive and well. And an hour later he drops you off at home and you wish you won’t see him again and regret your inability to make people feel love. _ Haruchiyo’s hair is the prettiest you’ve ever seen. You’ve known him since you were eleven and every single hairstyle he had he owned. He was a young cheerful boy then, and a quite pretty young man now. Sometimes, you wished you could be together. You think both of you could make it work and maybe both of you would, if there wasn’t Rindou in between of you. But, today, there’s no Rindou and Haruchiyo’s head is in your laps and his clear bright eyes, almost transparent in their intensity, look at you and you only.  

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, hand finding yours, fingers sewn together. “Nothing much,” you lie and he accepts it, because he knows what goes in your head.

He sighs then, a tired loud sigh ripped right from his chest, just where his heart is. He tears himself off you, and sits opposite you, stretching his legs on each side of you. 

“If you want, we can, but I do agree with Kaku, you will never love anyone, even me, like you love that beanpole. And hurting me will break your heart more than… Ah, you understand what I mean, right? And sex won’t solve anything either. It’s gonna make everything worse. And I am willing to give up anything I might feel for us, but not you and what we already have. I love you and I love your happiness and it’s not with me. Not in that way.” “Wow,” you giggle, face hot with tears. Haruchiyo smiles. His kind, beautiful smile makes him even more ethereal than he already is. With this angel white hair. 

He leans in and kisses you on your lips. Hands on your wet cheeks, he doesn’t wipe them away, but hold them there and you feel them. They are cold and sorrowful. They are happy. 

“Let’s go eat something. I’m paying. And if you want we can rent a movie to watch before we come back.” I do, you say and he nods. He kisses your forehead and helps you stand up. Haruchiyo is your best friend and you don’t really suppose you are destined to become something else. And it’s good. It does feel right. 

_ The school is somehow not how you remember it. It’s even more dull, grey and ugly. You so badly want to drop out and never come back, but you can’t disappoint your family and friends more than you already have. You suck all your regrets and unpleasantries in, and continue to carry on. 

Today, you are all alone. Haruchiyo isn’t in Tokyo and neither is Rindou. They went to that stupid DJ convention in Osaka and you, sitting in the cafeteria with your store bento box in front of you, wish you were with them. They are for sure having a lot of fun. 

Unlike you. 

It’s not a recent thing, but you are craving company, because thoughts inside your head are suffocating you. You see fires, fireworks and sharks with fairy lights. You feel waves and your little sister stares at you. Your skin pops off, wrinkling and coming off in ugly distorted layers. 

You need this to stop, until you do the unforgivable and this is betraying Rindou to whom you promised not to do anything with yourself. You promised to go to school and study and be a good girl. Just for this week. Until he comes back and it gets easier to breathe. 

Maybe, you should call Kakucho and go out with him. He won’t say no. You know that well and that’s why you don’t call him. He is too good for you and your haunting voices in your mind. 

Everything seals in, when your friend finds you in the cafeteria and invites you to the party. It’s a small intimate gathering she promises and it’s gonna be so fun! We can dress up and have a little fun. We haven’t hung out in so long. Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! We are going to have the best night ever. 

You don’t think twice, you need to relax and shut your shaking fears in your head, lock them away and preferably kill. So, you say “yes” and it makes your friend so happy, she spills her orange juice on your bleached jeans that your mother washed yesterday. _

The party is awful and your heart screams at you to get out before it’s too late. 

But your friend holds your hand and you feel safer and she claims she knows a lot of people there and they are nice and then, she would never let anything happen to you. The last part is true, but there’s only so much a young girl in her twenties can do. People she knows are a group of men. They look like rock stars, smudged eyeliner and long hair, multiple piercings in both ears. There’s no way to tell their age, but you don’t think they are that much older. A strong smell of weed and alcohol doesn’t scare you either. It feels familiar. 

With a few drags from a blunt you levitate, head in clouds, river of shitty bitter drink in your stomach, you levitate. You laugh and giggle and let the boy with orange bleached hair throw an arm around your bare shoulders. His touch isn’t anything, it’s barely there. 

Until it’s not. 

Until, his hand slides to your breast and he squeezes it. Once, twice, you lose the count. You feel sick, smoke disintegrated from your head, alcohol still in your blood. All the scars you carry on your body itch. You breathe in and breathe out, and the boy mistakes it for excitement. He grins, eyes foggy and greedy. 

The bile rises up in your throat. You shove it down, to your stomach. The friend that promised to be there for you isn’t here anymore and you can’t pinpoint the moment she left. Hazy thoughts and remnants of what she said to you before going upstairs with one of the boys are still there, but they are melted in the hold and attention forced on you. 

When the boy turns you around and kisses your neck, you’ve had enough. With a smile on your lips, and wobbly legs, you push him away, hands on his chest and he groans unsatisfied and hungry. He dives right back, fingers latching onto your waist. “I really need to use the restroom,” you whisper again and again and again. “I really need to. Please. I’ll be back. Just let me go.” He doesn’t and his friends laugh behind you. Is there no one to help you? No one to not let that awful night happen again? “Please, I just want to go to the restroom,” you plead and this time he releases you. You flee away. With trembling hands and shaking heart, you flee away and run to the bathroom. It’s vacant and it’s dirty, but it will do. It will do until you think of how to escape that party and get home. To your mom, to your dad and to you sweet little sister. To everything good and innocent that still lives in you. But now, you cry. You sit on the dirty floor in the house of a person you don’t know with a dress ridden to your mid thighs and cry. You cry for betraying Rindou’s trust, because once you are out of here, you’ll cut and then you’ll burn yourself and this time you hope it hurts so much, you won’t be able to feel anything for weeks. You hope it scars your body so ugly everyone will finally turn away from you. But firstly, you need to get out of here and this is almost impossible, because that guy wants you and waits for you and you promised to be back. Swallowing, you reach out for your phone. It’s in your bag. It’s fully charged and when you are about to dial Kakucho’s number, because he’s the only person to come and get you now, it rings. You answer before you see the name of the caller. “Hey! Why weren’t you answering my calls? Where the fuck are you?”

It’s Rindou and you know everything ends here. “I am fine. I am just at the party with…” “Are you crying? What the fuck? Where are you?” You sob. Because he is harsh with you and because he has every right to be. 

“Rin, I am sorry, I… that guy… I don’t want you to worry about it. I’ll call Kakucho and he…” “Who? Did someone hurt you? You need to tell me where the fuck you are.” “He just… Rin, I can’t… Why are you in… I am sorry… I want to go home.” He is panicking. On the line, in another city, his heart breaks in two for you. “I need you to tell me where you are. Tell me where the fuck you are.” You tell him. The address, the way to the bathroom and even what you are wearing. You have no idea why you are doing this, because Rindou is no god and he can’t get to Tokyo, to you, swiftly. Today, he won’t save you. But he promises you he will and then he hangs up, only to call you a couple of minutes later and talk to you about anything and everything, before you are safe. Before you are you again. _ The lightning that shoots through your body is so strong and powerful, you straighten up against the door and stop breathing. Outside is eerily quiet. The music is no longer playing and people aren’t speaking. It’s like the world died and you are the only one left. “What is it?” Rindou asks after he catches you not listening to him telling you about the new DJ set up he and Haruchiyo saw today at the exhibition. It’s pointless asking him, because you do know the answer to your question, but you do ask anyway. “Who did you call, Rindou?” “Ran. I called Ran. Is he there?” 

His voice is soft and comforting, but it does little to calm your wires of nerves.  Suddenly the world is very crispy and clear. “Rin, I don’t think I am ready to talk to him and…” “Listen here,” he interrupts you, taking a long pause, “It’s just Ran. My older brother. The guy you knew since what? Five years old? I don’t know a better person I can trust you with than him.” “It’s not that… it’s just… I am not ready… I don’t think…” A knock on the door never lets you finish the sentence. Rindou is babbling up on the phone again, you can hear him, but you can’t comprehend what he is saying. Slowly you open the door. You feel safe. You start breathing again. _ Ran doesn’t take you to your house. He doesn’t speak to you when he escorts you out of the house, your hand in his, and he doesn’t speak to you once he stops near KFC, gets out and gets back with two large bags he throws in the backseat, neither does he say anything when he makes the last stop at convenience store two blocks away from his and Rindou’s apartment. 

Two stops and thirty minutes ride, you don’t hear his voice even once. I am with her, is what he said to Rindou when he found you and took your phone from your hands; it still sits in the right pocket of his sweats. 

And you, you don’t try to talk either. Instead, you watch him. You caress his face with your eyes and try to spot if everything is different since you last saw him this close. Two summers ago. 

You don’t find anything new and it’s disappointing and relieving at the same time. Inside the apartment everything is still. He flickers on the light in the living room, places bags with food and drinks on the table and turns to you, standing where he left you. In the corridor. “Go and take a bath. Puke if you want and then come here. We’ll eat and we’ll talk.” When you don’t move he adds. “Go and wash yourself, I’ll bring you fresh clothes in a minute. Go.” The shower does help you. Water and soap feel nice on your skin and it’s not the cleansing you wish it was, but it still makes you feel better. Less anxious and more grounded. It also washes your worries away and you can’t help, but blame it on the weed wearing off your body. You are happy you are sober now and you wish it was something else that sobered you and not a random guy groping you at the party you shouldn’t have been at, at all. You don’t puke and you rinse your mouth with green mouth wash that you find on the sink. Haruchiyo has the same one at his apartment. You think if he is already aware of what happened. You should call him tomorrow and say you are okay, you are fine. Nothing bad happened. You suppose Rindou has told him, but you want to reassure him yourself. Ran sits on the floor when you emerge from the bathroom, wearing black sweats and grey t-shirt. You know it’s his clothes and you know when he raises his head and sees you wearing them, the corner of his lips tug up. He is quick to lower his head again, eyes on the chicken and fries neatly divided between two plates, as he motions you to come join him. 

This time you do it without hesitation. You eat in silence. Words on the tip of your tongue you so desperately want to say something, but it’s not your turn to talk and so you wait, until he gathers up and says what he has to say to you. “You are staying here. I already called your mom and told her you are with me so you don’t have to worry about it. I also spoke with Rindou and he’ll stay at the convention until the end. He won’t return tomorrow as he initially wanted.” You don’t say anything back. The fast food Ran bought is delicious and this apartment with him in it is a pleasant nice memory you dissolve in. You sip on your beloved iced lemon tea and you hope this moment of the night will never end or it will snatch you away. Imprison you in its comfort. “How do you feel?” His purple eyes never leave your presence and while the question is expected, you never wanted him to ask you that, because for once you don’t want to lie anymore. You are sick and tired of lying. “I am fine now, but I don’t think I’ll be tomorrow morning when I leave and I’ll probably get worse when I am home and alone.” He hums to that, shaking his head. His hair is parted in two nicely done braids. It’s longer than you remember it and yet it’s the same. “You won’t go home tomorrow morning. You are staying here until the answer to that question is I am good. Until I see you are better I am not letting you go.”

“Ran, I don’t think it works like that.” “Then, we’ll make it work like that.” 

That puts an end to your conversation. Together you wash dishes and he returns to his room, while you slip in Rindou’s bed and close your eyes. Violence is never an answer to you, and maybe Ran didn’t mean to enforce anything on you, and that’s why he didn’t close the door to his room as he always did before [you remember it so, but he might have changed, it’s been years after all], but you want to try. You so desperately want to feel good, you are willing to do anything. _ The next morning comes and you are the first to wake up. Ran’s room is dark and silent. The door is still open. There’s no sound coming out. Everything is still and motionless, but alive. That’s how you know he is actually home, inside his room sleeping peacefully. 

You don’t move around much. You don’t want to wake him up, because you do remember how grumpy he gets when someone disturbs his sleep. So, instead, you return back to Rindou’s bedroom and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Your phone is still in Ran’s possession and you are quite bored. Not that you can do much with it, but you could have messaged Rindou or Haruchiyo. It’s better than doing anything and in Rindou’s bedroom there’s nothing much to shorten the time you have until Ran wakes up. 

It’s around noon when your back gets so stiff and you just simply can’t fall asleep again no matter how hard you try, so you get off the bed and stride into the kitchen. The cupboards don’t have much and it’s even worse than at Haruchiyo’s house. That boy at least has a collection of tea, instant coffees, chicken take-outs leftovers and rice. All Haitanis have are a pack of rice, one cup of instant noodles, a carrot, two cans of spam and five eggs. It’s all definitely courtesy of Rindou. Ran solely survives on deliveries and eating in those favourite posh restaurants of his. 

It’s another hour and a smell of grilled spam that lures him out of the bed. He crosses the corner that separates his bedroom and kitchen, and with a heavy blanket across his shoulder and droopy eyes that are ready to close any second, stares at you. “What are you cooking?” 

“Rice with spam and eggs.” “I didn’t know we had eggs. Good. I’ll be right back.” 

He disappears into his room and then reappears a second after and goes straight into the bathroom and you standing in their little kitchen for the first time since yesterday shrink in size, feeling very very small. It’s all too strange, you comprehend, mind spiralling and angry and so frustrated. So so so strange for you to be here, in Ran’s and Rindou’s kitchen, cooking a miserable attempt at breakfast at noon, for yourself and a guy with whom you once were so close, but then you haven’t spoken in almost two years and now… 

You freeze, hands raised mid-air, and mouth slightly parted. Breathing in and out. In and out. In and out. 

Now… Now, there’s rice on the stove and you need to reach for bowls, which should be in the cupboard right in front of you. That’s if they didn’t wake up one day and decided to store their dishes in the drawer next to the fridge.

Now, you need to turn the stove off, so the spam will stay crispy, and not turn into an ugly tasteless black  coal. You need to do all this and that’s what you do. Ran is back to you in almost no time. He watches you carefully, and you wonder if he sees your worries in your trembling hands and bitten lips, in how you avoid his intense gaze. But if he does, he doesn’t say anything. Wordlessly, he helps you by taking both of the bowls, leaving you to grab chopsticks and soya sauce. 

He settles on the floor and you sit next to him, putting a comfortable distance between the two of you. 

It’s very Ran to not turn on the TV. He eats quietly, throwing a small praise your way, that means nothing, because it’s just an appreciative humming and a couple of pleased curses. You eat too, because there’s nothing else to do and you are kinda hungry. It’s also is a distraction enough not to send you down your torture tunnel again. You welcome it happily, grabbing the opportunity with both hands. You welcome Ran staring at you too. You suppose you are acting as the TV for him today. The thought makes you smile. “Yesterday, when I arrived, no one would tell me who was the guy that made you uncomfortable by touching you,” he starts, confident with purple eyes never leaving you. “They only spoke when I kneeled one of them down and stepped on their fingers.” The rice in front of you, sticky from the yolk, dances. You wish you could dance too, but you haven’t had a good dance since the last party with Haruchiyo and Rindou almost two weeks ago, where Rindou got so drunk, he couldn’t remember what his name was, but he remembered you. That moment was sweet and you think the moment now isn't really so, but your mouth suddenly tastes like cotton candy and it’s a pleasant feeling. A great even. 

“I broke the fingers of the guy who touched you yesterday and I broke every single finger on the hands of the guys who touched you that day. It was a mess, but there won’t be a day now in their lives, that they won’t feel the pain and that’s all I wish for.” “Ran…” The bowl is too heavy for you to hold and the rice isn’t dancing anymore, nor does the world move and you doubt anything exists past this apartment. The white noise and deafening eerie silence envelope you in their deadly hug. But you don’t want them to touch you. You want to swim in Ran’s eyes that carry no remorse or guilt or pity, but acceptance and comfort. Tenderness seeps through him like the sand of the broken hourglass. If he suffocates you with it, burying you under him, you won’t mind it. 

You won’t mind it at all.  “You don’t have to say anything,” he laughs, clearly amused by your lack of reaction or from the plentiness of it. “Good.” “Yeah, good. Finish your food and let’s go grocery shopping. We don’t have anything to eat in this house and Rindou’s stack of shochu isn’t much to my taste.” “He still has a stack of shochu?” “That’s the only thing you are worrying about?” “No, but…” “I am teasing you. Yes, he has. It’s in the cupboard next to the fridge.” Well, it seems like nothing much changed in their apartment after all. Bowls in the cupboards and stacks of shochu, and everything else in between. 

Two years after last visiting, you feel like it was just yesterday. A nice revived warm memory. You hope it will linger for a little more, its light pleasantly warming your cold hands. _ Your phone is somewhere inside Ran’s room and he isn’t willing to give it to you. It’s also a no trespasse territory so you don’t dare to go in there and take it yourself. “Did Rindou call?” You ask on your second day spent with Ran. It’s raining outside. Quite heavily so, but inside this little cute cafe that serves only coffees and cheesecakes, it’s warm and safe. “He called me,” Ran says, cutting his lemon cheesecake in half and transferring the piece to your plate. He cuts off part of your strawberry one for himself too. “Asked what we were doing and how are you doing. Don’t worry about him. He is getting drunk, high and probably has a couple of girls in his bed to warm it. I bet he is having a good time.”

“It’s good then. I want him to have a good time.” Ran hums, takes a sip of his black coffee that obviously doesn’t taste good at all and observes you. Eyes squinting and all. It would’ve been uncomfortable before, but it’s not anymore. In these two full days you spent with him in his apartment it’s almost like all those years before. “Your other friend called though and sent lots of messages.” You don’t have to ask to know who this friend is and Ran understands it very well, because he continues without waiting for you to ask who he is talking about. “I answered him and told him you’ll stay with me. Apparently what I did at the party reached him.” 

Never once he looks away from you, waiting for anything from you. A small frown, barely there sigh, tears or glossy eyes. But nothing comes, so he asks. Simply, because he desires to know. “Are you upset? I can give you your phone back if you want to call Kakucho. I know you’ve become close since that party.” There’s nothing you are feeling. No sadness, no remorse, no heart in the stomach. It stays in your chest where it’s supposed to be. So you shrug and put a little bit of yellow cheesecake on your spoon. You taste it, the back of the spoon hanging from your mouth. It tastes good. Really really good. 

“I am not upset and we are just close friends. Nothing more.” “Nothing more?” “Nope.” “That’s good. Anyway, do you want to rent something to watch later today?” It is good and yes you do. Of course you do. 

_

With his hair up in a messy bun, loose strands falling all over his face and glasses always falling off past his nose bridge, Ran looks ridiculous. You tell him just that. 

He also looks very domestic, very warm and safe, but you aren’t about to tell him that. He understands it anyway. 

_ On the fourth day of getting back to Ran he leaves the apartment very early in the morning and doesn’t return until the evening when the clock strikes eight. 

It’s very boring without him there. With nothing to do you read Rindou’s book about healthy food and when you finish it, you read his handouts about the importance of music in western world. Both food and music are dull topics to you, but with nothing to do it’s better than just sitting on the sofa and waiting for Ran to come home.  You also watch TV. MTV with loud pop and all the same techno music and then some soap opera with an all too obvious plot on TBS. You even tune in on the football match on TBS Sports and find it a bit entertaining. 

But then the match ends and Ran isn’t home yet and you have no idea where your phone is so you could’ve called him [you don’t have his number], so you get up and get to cooking. Cooking is nice and it’s creative enough for you to lose yourself in it. You notice a pack of shaving razor’s on the kitchen countertop and wonder how they even got there. 

You take them back to the bathroom. When Ran does come home it’s dark outside and he doesn’t look any different. It’s raining again and his hair and clothes are a bit wet, which makes you think that he didn’t use his car. You so want to ask him where he has been and why has he left you alone, but you don’t dare. 

You stare at him from the safe space of Rindou’s room. Watch him take his coat off, then his boots and then he is right by your side. “I wanna see your scars,” he asks, almost pleading, and this is so unlike him, so not Ran and everything you know about him, you think you heard him wrong, but he repeats, “I want to see you. You aren’t afraid of me, are you?” And you aren’t. You were never afraid of Ran and his vicious, sometimes cruel, nature, because to you he was never like that. You never saw him as a person capable of turning another human being's fingers into a bloody mess that won’t ever heal. To you, Ran is Ran. Beautiful sleepy eyes and gentle touches. A never ending worry for the people he loves and all the knowledge about flowers he once read in the encyclopaedia of his gone from his life forever mother. 

Without saying anything, holding onto each other’s gaze, you strip to your underwear. Your scars ugly tissues of messy skin, are wanting to be hidden. They scream at you and cry and rebel. They promise you, you can hide them under other scars, more brutal, more deadly, more deep, but you don’t believe them anymore. 

Nothing ever will steal them away from you. They are now you and you have to carry them for as long as you live. No sharks or stakes are the option.

Cold fingers burn your warm skin. Ran’s hands glide across every patch of your existence that once were wronged by you. He finds every single one. On your arms, your legs and thighs. Your ribs and lower back. He doesn’t say anything, but his hands tremble and that is enough for you to understand everything. Him and his reasons. 

When he claws your waist with his fingertips and brings you close to him in an impossible tight hug, you start crying. Your own hands fist the plush of his sweater and you want it gone, because you need to feel him close to you. Skin to skin and nothing apart. 

The pressure from his fingers is painful, and if he presses more, he’ll leave blooming bruises, but you won’t mind it. You wouldn’t mind it at all, because just this once it’s so nice to be safe and sound in the arms of someone other than Rindou or Haruchiyo. It’s so nice, so so nice, to want something more and not be afraid of it. 

It’s like blooming camellias and stinging honey bees. 

_ Fully dressed with sanrio cookies Ran got at 7-Eleven, you sit near him on the floor, on the Rindou’s blanket you spread across it for warmth and comfort. Your tears have long dried and the Ghibli movie is now playing on the TV. The room is dark, the rain is still falling and Ran is slowly falling asleep. 

“You know, I’ve never rejected you,” he yawns, laying down. “That summer. I didn’t reject you. I thought you and Rin had something going on between you and that’s why I said what I said. Maybe if I were to… Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Let’s just watch the movie.” Ran doesn’t make it to the end. He dozes off right at the moment when Chichiro boards the train and suddenly you too lose interest in a magical movie with so much sense behind its gentle animation. For a couple of seconds that stretch into an endless drop of water you bring your knees to your chest and stare outside the window. The view is nothing much. A grey building and dimly lit street lamp. Not a soul passes under the windows and you don’t hear any voices or laughs. No steps or coughs and rustling of clothes. Maybe there’s a black cat there somewhere, but its paws are too soft to make any noise. It most definitely won’t reach the second floor. Especially with rain meeting the pavement and cars and roofs, and maybe cats, but hopefully not. 

That night that summer it was raining too or so you were told, because you don’t remember. Drunk, high and very very sad you were brought into Haruchiyo’s apartment where he cared for you as best as an eighteen year boy could about an eighteen year old wronged girl. And in that crumpled dusty bar in Roppongi another act of love was happening. More vicious and more cold. Rindou has never told you about it, but you know him and Ran well enough to know that they did it together. Haitani brothers and all. 

You are too lazy to go to the kitchen and put sanrio cookies in the cupboard where they belong so you place them on the table near the TV. You grab the remote and switch the movie off. Darkness envelops the apartment, but you are used to it and then there’s that street lamp with its light and Ran. Slowly, you sneak under the blanket and curl next to him.

His breaths are even and methodical. His heart beats the same and he is very very warm. He is asleep and you so desperately want to sneak into his dream and live there. Meet the bees and blooming camellias along with other beautiful flowers he knows by heart. It must smell so good there and it must be day. Full family at the table and everything is good. Cats can be heard from miles away and fire is never burning the skin, only purifying. It never hurts there. 

Just like it never hurts near Ran. 

“Stop thinking so loudly,” Ran turns on the side, arm hooking across your waist and brings you closer to him, his body and his peace, “You are waking me up with those thoughts of yours. It’s gonna be alright. We are… I… It’s… I…” Whatever he said is lost on you, because he falls asleep again. This time, in his arms, in his warmth, it’s easier for you to close your eyes, because after many many days you are eager to open them again. _ This time, you don’t wake up first, but you wake under an intense gaze and hand caressing your face. He doesn’t stop when you open your eyes, curiously, looking at him and you don’t stop him when he leans in and kisses you. Slowly and sweetly. Besides drunk games at parties where you pecked a couple of boys, you’ve never ever kissed anyone, because you loved them. And right now doing exactly that - kissing the person you love, - your chest burns and you are not sure what you are supposed to do and how to suppress all those whimpers and moans you are so readily feed Ran with. 

Somewhere in the kiss, right after he hugs you impossibly closer to him, both arms around you, he smiles. The flame in your chest is now fire, and so you push him away. “What?” He asks leaning in again, this time pressing wet open mouthed kisses across your jaw. It makes it harder to speak, breath uneven and clogged, “Why are you smiling?” Surprised, he looks up, “I thought you were gonna ask me what the kiss was about, but you so you, and… why do you think I am smiling?” He waits for an answer and your brain runs kilometres in a millisecond, but you can’t come up with a decent answer that is not embarrassing or humiliating and full of self–doubt. Instead, you want to kiss Ran more and you want him to hug you tight again, hands holding you together, in one piece. And so you do. And it feels nice and it feels beautiful and right. And probably you should have had a conversation about all these before, but as he said you are you and he is Ran Haitani, and you kinda like doing everything in mysterious complicated ways only understandable to you. So you kiss more and he kisses across your face and under your jaw and then your neck where he plants bites and hickeys that bloom right away. Pretty shades of purple.  Only when you are sitting on top of him and his hands slide under your [his] shirt, does he stop. Hair a wild mess, he tilts his head and retracts his hands from your bare waist moving them to your face, which he cradles with all the gentleness in the world. He searches for something, anything, in your expression, but only finds swollen lips and pretty eyes that hold all the stored love they never gave away. And he crumbles, falling so hard and so fast, you hear the air crying and flowers blooming in his chest. 

Right at this moment, you both know, he’d do whatever you want and this will either be the best reward of his life or his demise. [As if you ever would let the last happen]. Ran presses a small barely there kiss to the corner of your lips and nudges your cheek with his nose. He takes a deep content breath full of the meaning you don’t catch on. Not because you don’t understand, but because you can’t, because he holds your head to his and kisses that sweet place right below your ear. Because he whispers, asking you, “How do you feel?” “Good. I feel good, Ran. I really really do,” you breathe out, hands clutching onto his shoulders. You can’t see his face, he buries it in your neck, inhaling your very being into himself. Storing you and what you are to the depths of his heart to where he will never let anyone reach. 

Your skin absorbs his smile and it makes you happy. So happy, you believe, if you died right there in his arms, an army of bees and the prettiest pink camellias would swerve from your ashes and Ran would name them all. 

_ The afternoon was spent exchanging lazy kisses and tender caresses. The time passes and the rain continues and when you stand outside of Haitani’s apartment building waiting for Ran who forgot his card upstairs, you inhale the wet aroma of pavement and green leaves and everything seems fine. Uncertain and wobbly, but fine. 

You actually believe that if sharks would come right now and try to swallow you for the first time ever you would fucking fight them. And they would back off. _ “You know, we should have ordered,” Ran complains in his small accusatory voice that you haven’t heard in so long. “You are soaking.” “Maybe. But then the poor delivery guy would’ve suffered and the food would be cold and…” Ran gives you the look. The one you haven’t forgotten, but could never crack up before. Where he believes you are very cute, but hella naive and a bit stupid. Now, though, you know what this small smile with a very relaxed face means. Now, that you know, you just nod embarrassment overflowing, and turn away from him, cheeks hot and hands trembling. He notices it all. He finds you endearingly cute. So cute, he wants to tear you apart. “You know, let’s just eat our burgers and get home.” “Burgers and fries, Ran. You did order fries, right?” “Yeah. Yeah. And fries. I just really wanna get you home.” _

“Say it again,” Ran murmurs, tenderly kissing your right cheek. His hair is still wet from the shower and his skin is slightly tinted red from the hot water. The huge tattoo that splits his body in half is more evident than ever and you find your gaze lingering there, tracing pretty shapes of it. 

He doesn’t wear much. Only sweatpants. And straddling him, legs hugging his hips, you can clearly tell that there’s nothing under them. Only him and his bare skin.  The smell of his shampoo and gel shower lingers in the room and it’s unclear if it’s from him or from you since you’ve been indulgently using his toiletries this whole time. Not because you always wanted to be closer to him, but because there was just no way you’d use Rindou’s mint one. Vanilla and bergamot it is then.

And now, all senses high and elevated, you claw at Ran’s naked shoulders, letting him slowly mouth your neck and you throw your head back, and you inhale this pleasant aroma that will forever remain you of these days and you desperately try to compose yourself. Dissolving into him would be easier, but you want to remember every single moment and every single sensation, and so you stay. “When was the last time you had sex?” In his question there’s no shame or hesitation, and it’s good. Really good. Because Ran doesn’t want to hide his intentions and pretend nothing is going to happen since this morning it was clear you would be under him today.

 “And with whom. I wanna know who had you last.” There’s slight fear in his last demand and you want to wonder why, but you stop yourself before your mind could create impossible scenarios and trap you. You pull back a little, peering into his face. You need to know why he is asking you this and as if he understands you, he leans forward pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“I am asking, because I need to know how hard I can go and what you can take from me.” His hands, warm and attentive, slide under your shirt. You too wear nothing under it. He doesn’t seem too surprised when he finds it out. Instead, he stops at the small of your back and hugs you closer to him. “I don’t want to hurt you or make you do something you aren’t ready for.” If not for the gentle fire in your heart, you would’ve cried. But you drop your head down, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. There’s something in them you aren’t mentally prepared for and Ran should be fearing about it more, than he does about sex. “I am not afraid of you and you won’t hurt me.” You say and then something possesses you and you cradle his face in your palms and you hold the whole world there and he isn’t aware of it and everything hurts, but in a good sweet way. “Can we kiss some more? I really like kissing you and I like you. You asked me to say it again and I will. I like you, Ran. So so so much.”

Ran kisses wet and sloppily and he grabs at your waist so clumsily, so unsure and so uncertain that it sells him immediately away. He has never kissed anyone like this and now that he has it has him spiralling. And so out of his mind, he pulls you closer, his bare chest against your [his] t-shirt and he does it again, and then again and again, as if could possibly merge with you, because being like this seems so so so far away to him. He wants you closer and it physically hurts him not being able to. And so he takes a good look at your flustered face, your perfect collarbones picking out of the loose clothing and dives in to kiss you again. This time he doesn’t stop only at your lips, but he mouths across your neck, guiding his tongue across the bruises he left this morning. He smiles all the way down to your collarbones and his smile makes you smile too, and despite you being quite shy and awkward you grin, melting in his happiness. 

If that’s how love feels, it feels good, it feels right and it might help you. It should. You want to give it the power to.

Somewhere between losing yourself in each other completely and starving hands, Ran hooks his fingers under the hem of your t-shirt and lifts it upwards. There must not be enough of you for him and so he wants more. But you freeze, heart beating so fast, it’s going to burst any second now, and Ran understands. He puts a gentle sweet kiss on your lips and presses his forehead to yours.

His breathing is ragged and fast. 

“We don’t have to do anything. It won’t be good for you if you feel…,” he starts, but you take all those words with your mouth on his. You don’t want to hear what he has to say, because you know what it’s going to be. And you don’t want your fear to overwhelm you, because that’s what has been living inside you and that’s what you’ve been trying to carve out of your soul. With razors, scissors and knives. Never with love or understanding. You slip away from him. You take off your shirt and place it near you on the bed. Ran watches you. His eyes are hazy and unfocused, but not any move of yours passes by unattended by him. He glides over your breasts and there’s a slight jerk under you and suddenly you want to hide yourself. You almost do, but then you think better of it and you raise your hips and you try to take your sweatpants off, but Ran stops you. “Don’t,” he murmurs, flipping you on your back. “Don’t. I wanna do everything myself. I want to undress you myself. And I want you to kiss your body and I want to play with your tits until you lose your mind and then I want to eat you out and make you cum, because you fucking deserve it. Because this fucking tension needs to go the fuck away. Okay? And then I want to kiss you and then I want to fuck you and I will watch your face as I do it. I’ve always wanted to see your sweet pretty face under me. Always wanted to hear how you will scream for me and how insanely perfect you’ll be with my cock inside you. Okay?” You nod and he does exactly what he said. And Ran is attentive and careful and very very kind. He talks you through everything and doesn’t push your buttons even though a couple of times you secretly wish he did. That night it’s only one round. Mainly because he is too exhausted and sleepy after he cleans you up and dresses you in his boxers and a new clean t-shirt. 

You don’t change sheets though and decide against opening the window. Because it’s heavily raining outside again and because none of you wants to get up from the warm bed and lose the comfort of each other. “Is it too early to say that I love you?” He whispers, taking a full deep breath. 

You think it’s not, but you say that it is and he laughs seemingly seeing through your small insincerity. “Okay. Then you should ride me tomorrow morning. I deserve it after today.” “You know, Ran, I think this is too, too early to ask of me.” “Really?” “Well, yeah.” “But I kinda already asked and I kinda already…” A loud thunderstorm slams Tokyo and you get startled. Your body is aching in all the pleasant ways and you don’t have any capability in yourself to continue this ridiculous conversation. You press a kiss to his chest and hide yourself in the crook of his neck. You are safe and you are in love and pain is still there, and memories will never die, but pink camellias are blooming and bees are going to return. _ Rindou is not supposed to get back next afternoon, but he does. 

It’s still raining and Haruchiyo is at his back complaining about how much he hates humidity, because his hair gets all frizzy and ugly. [Not that someone particularly cares about Haruchiyo’s hair, but Rindou is too tired to argue with him, so he just hums.] Because he understands where Haruchiyo comes from and he is also still tipsy. 

Yesterday, before boarding the bus they did drink a little too much. But the bar they camped in in the night, ditching the comfort of the hotel, was nice and the girl that sucked Rindou off in the back alley behind that said bar, was pretty much exceptional, so he won’t complain. 

Besides, he and Haruchiyo, but Rindou more or so he believes, were too worried for you to stay in Osaka. All the girls in the back alleys be damned, they need to see you and make sure you are alright. Short unconstant messages from Ran - “oh, she is fine”, “don’t worry i got her” and “she’ll be just fine” - were not cutting the white patch of horrors off for him. 

Rindou needed to talk to you. He needed to do his little check up and maybe [most definitely] buy you some expensive patterned paper and a couple of cute storage boxes. And because he feels generous enough you’ll stop at Daiso and buy all the stickers you want too. 

“Does it smell like mackerel or am I tripping? Again,” deadpans Haruchiyo taking off his soaking wet shoes. He dumps the sports bag with all his clothes next to Rindou’s and waits for him to take his last evening white now grey Adidas sneakers to go check into the living room. It does indeed smell like grilled fish and vegetables inside the apartment. Tofu and spring onion. He tries his very best to remember when was the last time their apartment smelt of homemade food and simply can’t. To his own dismay, this special cosiness of familiarity and domesticity were more native to Haruchiyo’s studio.   But that’s only because you spent a lot of time there. 

Getting high, getting creative and being you. It clicks and responds and suddenly everything makes perfect sense and they could’ve stayed in Osaka for two days more as planned. 

So when they enter the living room and find you picking out bones out of the fish, Rindou is not surprised. He is not surprised when he notices that it’s actually Ran’s plate in front of you and this small act of service is for him and him only. And he is so not surprised when his own brother doesn’t pay any attention to them staring at you both. His thin lips curled into a tiny smile, chin prompted on his hands as he watches you knowing there won’t be anyone else. 

And there never were. 

It’s all so simple and so fucking stupid. 

“Rindou! Haru!” You notice them, of course you do, and you set the chopsticks aside and run to them, somehow hugging both of them at such an awkward angle, the hug doesn’t last long. 

In the back, Ran clearly rolls his eyes and drags the plate with the boneless fish to him. It makes a disturbing screeching sound. 

“Weren’t you supposed to be back much later? Like in two days?” 

“We changed plans,” Rindou replies without an ounce of venom or disappointment of whatever else he is supposed to feel right now at his brother’s not so inviting tone, “But I guess we were wrong to rush.” Near him Haruchiyo snorts, Ran laughs a little and you with your neck and collarbones a perfect constellation of purple flowers, get so shy, Rindou himself cracks a smile. 

It’s evident where he is looking and what he is reading from it all, and your hand - trembling as per usual - flies to your head, in a poor attempt to cover what can be seen from miles away. More than anything, at this moment, Rindou wants to tell you that there’s nothing you should be ashamed of, nothing to worry about in his presence. 

Hickeys, cuts, bruises and all the blemishes are evidence of feelings and we people are meant to feel them. We are meant to experience them in our own ways. 

But he can’t say that now. He’ll do it later. 

Now, he throws his arm around your shoulders, kisses the top of your head and excuses himself to the bathroom. 

He needs that hot fucking shower now.

_ Three days later the rain stops. 

Haruchiyo goes home the day after they arrive from Osaka and you spend two more nights at Haitani’s. 

You leave when it’s sunny and not so cold for January. Ran offers you his long grey coat and a deep kiss to your lips. At that Rindou rolls his eyes, but he is smiling and so it’s fine. 

They both promise you they’ll stop by your apartment in the evening to go have dinner together. You all settle on something french. It’s weird how today your wants align and you aren’t about to pass this extreme luck of not quarrelling on where to eat.

[You feel like today is going to be a nice day.]

Your parents are home. Your little sister too. The house smells like butter and caramel. They probably had something sweet and nice for breakfast. The last time you ate with them together in the morning was so far away you can barely remember it. It saddens you, but only a little. 

“What are you watching?” You ask your sister. She sits on the floor, her legs inside the kotatsu. It seems to be a new one, because the wooden frame is white instead of dark brown. You’ve never noticed they changed it and you don’t know why. Something might have happened to it or perhaps your mom just wanted a small change. She can be like that sometimes. 

“National Geographic,” she replies without turning her head. “Is it interesting?” You genuinely inquire and she gives you a weirded out look. She shrugs, “I guess so. You learn a lot of things about the world we live in. Like did you know that all flowers have meanings behind them? Yellow roses mean friendship, tulips mean perfect love and camellias symbolise romantic love, adoration and care. It’s pretty cool. Don’t you think so?” 

From the kitchen with two puddings and small all too familiar from childhood silver spoon in her hands emerges your mother. She has a sweet hesitant smile and her face is so lovely and you missed her so so so much. She sits next to you and opens the pudding for you. You think that if she was to feed you, you’d gladly accept. Any neglected love you can take from her you will. “Oh, and bees… that don’t fly south. They actually never fly away,” your sister says and your mother laughs for one reason or another and there’s tears in her eyes and what your sister just said makes no sense at all to anyone, 

but you.  [Maybe tomorrow will be the same too.]