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tojiscrack · 11 months ago

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐍

pairing: megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: 18k words — you and megumi meet for the first time and experience kindergarten together.

notes: this is the fic i’ve been working on for a little while. a childhood friends to lovers with megumi because he’s so underrated (and deserves better!!). updates will be slow, but only because the chapters will range from 10-12k and maybe even more. check the tags to see if this story will interest you — i’ll make sure to add the tropes, what to expect, and the general gist of it all <3 enjoy! here is also sneak peak (a small scene from some of the future chapters) to be certain that this is the story for you :)))

tw: slightly bad english in dialogue (done on purpose as the characters presented are kids), y/n (she deserves her own warning), and idk, offended gojo

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

2007-2008 kindergarten

you sat on the floor, the rough carpet scratching up against your shorts as you flattened out your skirt in preparation for your story-telling. the loud giggles around you had quietened notably. your classmates sat in a full circle, all facing you with contained anticipation and exhilaration. kimberly garnett sat with a fist in her mouth, grinning widely at you. malakai abara sat on his knees, bent forward with a smile on his face as he twisted the little dreads on his head with his small finger. the rest of the kids simply awaited, laughing as you reached for the toy torch and held it beneath your chin.

silently, you flipped the switch on... or rather struggled to flip the switch on. you heard several sighs from around you as you took the time to figure out what the issue was, until at last, the light had turned on (and blinded you in the process).

clearing your throat, you sat up straighter, eyes half-lidded as your story began:

"a long, long time ago, far away, once upon a time, there was a girl... and her name was bloody mary," you began, slowly. the other kids watched you with wide eyes. "she was killed by some bad guy. and then he trapped her inside a mirror."

"but how?" ayaan miah had asked, looking fearful.

you regarded him with little care.

"none of your beeswax, anyways! erm — so basically — erm — oh my god, ayaan! look what you done! now i can't remember!"

every kid in the circle whined and moaned out ayaan's name, frustrated at the boy's interruption. you shut your eyes, attempting to remember, and when you had opened them, you had been met with ayaan's flushed brown skin. you decided that you would save him then, seeing as you had remembered the story once more.

"wait guys, it's fine. i remember now."

everyone sighed in relief, their smiles returned.

"okay, so..." you sighed. "now when kids are being very bad, my mommy says that if you go in the mirror and say 'bloody mary' three times and then you spin around — then — then — then she's gonna come out and then she's gonna get her long nails and then she's — she's gonna try and kill you. and then there's gonna be so much blood."

your eyes passed each and every one of their faces, scanning their features; they looked traumatised.

from the corner of your eye, you caught slight movement. immediately, your head turned in that direction, met with the sight of amira khalil shakily raising her hand. it seemed that she had wanted permission to speak — you nodded your head at her, encouraging her to voice her thoughts.

"is there any way to save yourself?" she said timidly.

her wise question had led the rest of the kids to nod and look at you with big, curious eyes, seemingly pleased with her question and wondering what the answer would be.

you thought for a moment, scratching your head and accidentally moving the hair clip your mother had placed in your hair. you quickly adjusted it and then placed both your hands on the torch again, ready to answer.

"so, basically, you can pretend to die," you told them carefully. you did not like how the smiles on their faces had returned, looking satisfied with your response.

the kids had immediately begun speaking to each other, excitedly having discussions about how bloody mary was not ever going to be able to get them now that they had found a solution. you narrowed your eyes at them, a sneer on your face as you loudly interrupted the discussions.

"but!" you had said loudly. their attention was back on you, frowns forming and smiles disappearing. that's better, you had thought to yourself. "not to bubble your burst... but — but — like, she can get her finger and put it underneath your nose to see if you're breathing. and you can't hold your breath because she will hold it there for a long time," you added quickly as the smartest kid in your class (alexa clement) opened her mouth to put in her input. she had shut it as soon as the last word had been uttered.

kimberly garnett had long since taken her fist out of her mouth, not looking nearly as content as she had once been when she had first taken a seat across from you on the carpet.

"i think i'm scared..." she said, hesitantly.

you nodded, chin in the air. "yeah, you should be. but i'm not scared."

"huh?" gasped david yeboah, mouth parted in shock (similar to the rest of the kids in the circle). "how? what if she comes to kill you if you call her?"

you had your answer prepared since the moment you had stepped past the doors of the kindergarten building that morning.

"um — she — she's my friend, so — um — she won't kill me. and she said that if you guys don't give me your toys, then she will kill you," you explained, watching as they had all started scrambling to find their toys and place them by your feet.

another successful story-telling day.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

tired of playing with the same old toys, your boredom had reached its peak and you had decided that you would venture about and find something else to do. standing up, you stretched out your little legs and went waddling over to the toy box, searching for anything else to dig out and begin entertaining yourself with.

the toy box had been placed opposite to the teachers desk (which was also situated beside the interactive whiteboard). the rest of the room had five separate group tables leaving the centre of the room empty and bare (space for you and your classmates to sit on the floor when miss huckleberry would sing a nursery rhyme or read a boring story book).

the toys were not appealing to the eye, but you had just seen elena holland playing with a princess doll — you wanted it. it looked pretty, and squinting your eyes from a distance told you that the princess was actually rapunzel.

you wanted it even more now. rapunzel was the best disney princess in your opinion. you wanted that doll.

elena holland had always sat and listened to your scary stories, she had quietly listened to every single one of them since the first ever group circle had been initiated. therefore, by default, the doll had to be yours.

confidently, you marched up to elena, smiling as she noticed you approaching. you did not beat around the bush, nor did you attempt to sugar coat what you wanted.

"you have to give me that doll."

and the most shocking thing had happened to you after that.

elena had said:

"no."

startled, stupefied, and shocked, you looked back at her, scanning her pale face with disgust. you would give her the benefit of the doubt... perhaps with all the stories you had told, maybe she had forgotten the rules, the outcomes, or the consequences of not listening to your instructions.

that was quite all right. you were more than happy to remind her.

"okay, well, because you said no to me, bloody mary is my friend and she's gonna come and kill you... so yeah."

and you had found yourself absolutely flabbergasted when the girl had a well-prepared response to that. it had clearly been thought out.

"that's not true," said elena.

you frowned. "huh?"

"bloody mary's not real," she clarified for you, as if you had made up the story for your own enjoyment (which, you had, but that was not the point).

you resisted the urge to snatch the doll from her hands and run off with it, uncaring of whether she cried or not, unbothered as to whether you would end up in the naughty corner for the third time that day. your only concern was who had broken the news to her, who had ruined the entire purpose of your stories.

probably a teacher, you thought to yourself, scowling in annoyance.

well now it meant that you had to repair the damage. what a hassle.

"someone told me," elena added, as though that comment was ever so helpful (it was not).

"okay," you shrugged, acting careless. "don't blame me when bloody mary comes to you at night. i warned you."

elena had not wasted any more time in giving you the doll; you were pleased

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the next few days were rather unpleasant. you had not been in the greatest mood on one particular morning: the sun had woken you up that day, your mother had forced you to go in to kindergarten despite your strong protests, you had lost the class game, and you had been sent to the naughty corner at one point — which, on a normal day, would not have bothered you in the slightest: the issue lied with the stupid assistant teacher that had been told to watch over you because apparently, you could not be trusted to stay put. not to mention, you had an extra ten minutes in comparison to the other kids.

you had no plans on doing your typical story-tellings, yet your other classmates had been bugging you since the moment you had passed the double doors on your way in. initially, you refused them, in foolish hopes of the fact that they'd accept it and move on.

they didn't.

they pleaded for your story, claiming that they would truly stay silent, no questions, as you entertained them. you did not believe it, not even a sock could silence the annoying giggles and chatter of those classmates of yours.

but to stop their consistent begging, you had given in (albeit, reluctantly) and not long after, you found yourself sitting in that circle again, waiting for everyone to gather themselves.

"oh my god, kenji, shut up!" you scolded the dark haired boy who had been laughing loudly and preventing you from starting. your tone was harsh, aware that this particular classmate of yours would not take any offence to your comments towards him (unlike anyone else, who you knew would end up in tears, resulting in you sitting in that naughty corner once again).

"sorry," kenji lee chuckled, but you could not help but think that he did not look one bit sorry.

as the chatter around you began to die down, you repressed the urge to rip the stupid bow placed on your head that had been pulling on a particular strand of your hair for some time, and throw it at someone (kenji).

impatiently, you handed the torch to the girl next to you: you had very little tolerance for the struggle of attempting to switch the light on without wasting time. as you waited for her to click it on, you noticed that she was a newcomer, you had never seen her in class and you knew for a fact that she was not in the other class either. surely you would have been told?

the girl proved to be helpful, she had successfully switched the torch on and with a small 'thanks', you took the torch from her hands and placed it beneath your chin (again, almost blinded from the angle of the light shining just below your eyes).

this time around, you did not waste time with a slow introduction to your story, caring less and less for the enjoyment of your peers.

"so there was this man and his name is freddy krueger," you began, watching confusion rise on your classmates' faces. perhaps they were used to your long introductions (the typical 'once upon a time' etc). you did not care for it. "he used to be very handsome and then his wife found out that he was cheating on her and then burnt his face."

as promised, none of the kids raised their hands to ask 'how?' or question something very obvious. your bad mood had been knocked down an inch.

"so now he comes for naughty kids who keep cheating in games," you stated, staring specifically at christopher allen who you strongly believed to have cheated in order to win the class game that morning (stupid miss huckleberry had been adamant that he had truly won fair and square).

the silence that you had been revelling in for a short moment had been interrupted harshly. you'd heard malakai's aggravating voice distract you, ripping you from your hardening glare towards christopher, whose eyes were slowly starting to water for whatever reason.

"did fred have —"

you interrupted him.

"no you can't call him that, only i can."

malakai's eyebrows raised so far up, there were lines on his forehead. another voice cut in through the conversation: it was abby milton.

"y/n, how are you friends with every single bad guy?" she had asked, curious.

you had no choice but to step in and correct her.

"they're not bad guys because i changed them so yeah... they're mis— mis— misuntood."

you were ninety-nine percent sure that none of the kids in the circle knew what that word meant, but none of them dared to ask.

"oh, i forgot," you added, just as you had nearly placed the torch away. hurriedly, you brought it right back beneath your chin. "if — if — if — if you, like, don't keeping on telling off me... then he... umm... yeah, he won't kill you."

you did not specify (with your eyes or your voice) who you were referring to, but you had decided that the same went for the rest of the kids anyway. that naughty corner would be the death of you, you were sure of it. at least now, with this threat looming over their heads, you would not be in the naughty corner for a long, long time to come.

shortly after, you had quickly put the torch away and made your way to the book corner, attempting to entertain yourself with some of the new books the kindergarten had gotten. several of the other kids had decided that they were not done yet, that they still had questions that remained unanswered about freddy krueger. the only thing that deterred them was the threat that you would never tell another story if they bothered you this much again.

looking disappointed, and mildly annoyed, they had walked off, grumbling about how they had no way to protect themselves from yet another evil entity. you shrugged it off, distracted by the pretty fairy lights and cushions decorating the book shelf. pleased with the presentation of the area, you admired the way the warm colour emanated from the little light bulbs attached to the silver wire. several posters lined the top of the bookshelf, promoting 'silent reading' and so on.

accompanying you some time later had been abby milton, complaining about how she wanted you to give more clarification about freddy krueger (you tried not to sigh loudly, thinking about how you had only just gotten peace about the matter).

"i'll tell miss," she decided on saying at last, something that had finally caught your attention after practically ignoring her pleas since the moment she had sat down beside you.

"freddy krueger will come get you in night time then."

and you were certain (after she had voiced out her response to that) that you were facing deja vu for the first time.

"somebody said you're lying," said abby, swiping her messy hair away from her face. "somebody said freddy krueger isn't real."

you attempted to mask over the fury you had now adopted, trying to hide the mix of confusion and curiosity too: as if your mood wasn't already terrible, you were practically a ticking time bomb, and the timer was slowly reaching its peak.

but your suspicions were now confirmed — there was someone out there sabotaging you: if it had been a teacher, like you originally suspected, then, one: you would have found yourself in time out again, and two: she wouldn't have threatened to tell off of you, seeing as the teacher would have already known about it.

it was one of your classmates. you were certain now.

reminded of the fact that not all of your peers entered the circle of your story-telling time, you could narrow down your options. someone outside of the circle was your culprit.

but again, you were not in the mood to spend the time investigating. so, instead, you decided to flat out ask her who this mystery person was.

"well they're a liar," you said, standing up and dusting yourself off, looking around. "they basically want you to get — to — to die." you looked down at her, brows furrowed. "anyways who even said that?"

"megumi."

and now you were more than offended. you were absolutely ready to beat down a boy, but for a fellow girl to turn around and stab you in the back with no remorse? that stung. it felt like she (whoever she was) had plunged a knife right through your back and pushed it all the way to your heart, practically carving out your insides to her pleasure.

ignoring her calls for you, you walked away and exited the classroom, standing in the playground and looking furtive. the sun shone over the unused bikes and the abandoned hula-hoops on the floor as members of both classes ran around and played together. the sight hurt your eyes, the headache of yours stirring even further and worsening with each passing minute.

and what was worse? malakai, that annoying peer of yours, had appeared in front of you somehow. you had looked away for a mere second, how had he reached you without your awareness?

"can you please tell me what freddy krueger stays away from? i'm scar—"

"listen," you started, the timer in you now at one digit numbers, "i forgot to say that fred also kills people who keep bov— bovering me, so you have to leave me alone."

just when you thought you were done with this conversation, someone else had decided to join in, but once they had spoken...

you were certain your hunt for the enemy had been over.

"stop lying."

leisurely, your head turned. it seemed as though a thousand years had gone by, but really, it had only been a short fifteen seconds till you had turned enough to be met with the sight of a... a boy?

a million and one questions had passed your mind in that short moment you made eye contact with the boy who looked as though you had eradicated his entire bloodline. had you misheard abby? you were certain the name of the sabotag-er was megumi, a girl name.

but you were absolutely, one hundred percent, definitely certain that this boy was unquestionably the one going around ruining your plans, corrupting the minds of your classmates to turn them against you.

and the kid looked goofy too, you had thought, with his dark-as-night hair standing on all ends, his equally-as-dark eyes half-lidded as if he had not a care in the world, and his face forming an unmoveable frown, looking more than unimpressed.

well that made sense. the metaphorical knife was now non-existent, since your initial assumption had been correct — it was a dumb boy after all.

"who," you began, defensive, "are you? i've never even seen you in my life."

but it wasn't (who you assumed was) megumi that answered. you had just realised that malakai was still in the picture.

"that's megumi guro!" he had said, loud and clear.

you regarded him with a short look before staring back at megumi guro, who had somehow appeared more grumpier than when you had first gazed at him.

"it's fushi-guro," said megumi what's-his-face.

you scowled at him.

"if you keep saying that again and again and again, freddy krueger's gonna come to you in the —"

"he's not even real."

malakai had gasped. you glared at megumi fushiguro.

"you know what? you're not even real megumi fushigo!"

"it's fushiguro," he repeated, stoic.

"i said that."

"no you didn't."

malakai had disappeared by this point, perhaps bored with this interaction between you and megumi fushiguro.

"yes i did," you repeated, frustrated. no other kid had ever challenged you, this megumi child was starting to put a bad taste in your mouth.

"no you —"

"yeah stop subject changing."

"you mean changing the subject."

"oh my gosh!" you exclaimed, scratching at your thigh which proved to be unsatisfying seeing as your tights were in the way. "you listen here with your girl’s name! you are a girl!"

"..."

megumi fushiguro had not said anything for a while, choosing to stay silent as he stared back at you. uncertain of whether you had seen it properly, but you could have sworn that you'd seen his eye twitch ever so slightly.

"not a girl's name," he grumbled quietly.

you gave him a tight-lipped smile.

"liar, liar, pants on fire!" you shouted, pointing at him like he had committed a brutal crime in front of your very eyes. smug, you looked at him with a real smile this time. "who's the liar now?"

but megumi's response had come just as quick as you had finished yours.

"still you."

"no, it's both of us!"

"you just admitted to lying."

"..."

astounded, staggered, and stupefied, you stared back at megumi, mouth parted and jaw dropped. you had only just realised your mistake there, the smugness you had previously adopted now diminished and killed just as it had come. nobody had ever rendered you speechless before, you had always gotten your way. usually, people would simply leave you to have the last word in defeat, but this megumi... megumi had got you there, because you just had admitted to lying.

"...MIIIIIIISS, megumi slapped my butt!"

"megumi did not slap your butt y/n."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"now you want to go to school, huh?" your mother mused as she pulled your hair back into a ponytail and began tying a silk ribbon into it.

it had been a week since you had met megumi fushiguro, and since then, it seemed as though he was everywhere. every story you had scared your other classmates with, he just had to be there to tell them the truth, corrupting them (in your eyes).

he had been actively undoing every tale you would tell and it was starting to irritate you. the only way you could win this silent battle was actually attending kindergarten, even if you had a pounding headache and had woken up on the wrong side of bed.

now you were seated on the floor, your mother on the soft couch as she worked to style your hair.

"i don't want to go," you grumbled, hissing when your mother had accidentally pulled at your hair ('oh, sorry honey'). "but i have to."

"yes, you do," your mother hummed in agreement, and you had quickly corrected her.

"no, not like that, mommy," you said, playing with the ends of your skirt as you attempted to explain yourself and what you really meant. "i have to because — because there's this really dumb boy that's just keeping on ruining things.”

"you mean keeps on ruining things?"

you sighed loudly, feeling restless. at the moment, the way you spoke was the least of your concerns. your mother could correct you later, not when you were in distress.

"i'm sorry, go on," she said, but you could hear the amusement in her voice, as if she’d made an attempt to mask her laughter (it didn't work). "what's his name?"

"he has a girl name," you said, feeling smug again. “i told him he has a girl name.”

"y/n, that's not nice," said mom, although she was gentle with her scolding.

"he's not nice," you replied defensively. “anyways, his name is megumi."

your mom laughed softly, tightening your pony tail and then leaning forward to fix the baby hairs with a bit of gel. she knew to use very little of it seeing as you disliked the way it felt on your head.

"that is a girl name, isn't it?"

"mhm," you nodded ('y/n don't move, i'll make a mistake).

"but…” she said, lifting you and putting you on the couch so you were now facing each other in order to do the front of your hair neatly. she spoke slowly so as to remain concentrated on your hair. "you still... can't... say that now, can you... hm, y/ n?"

you shrugged, and then immediately apologised when you realised you had moved.

"he deserves it."

“i'm sure... he does." said mom, smiling ever so slightly. "he's... megumi-what?"

she used a small toothbrush to clean out the sides of your forehead.

"megumi fushigo."

your mother paused, leaning back and staring at you in surprise. the toothbrush was still firm in her grip, but it was no longer pressed against your hair due to her arms deflating. she raised her eyebrows at you, mouth parted in what looked like to you as realisation.

"you mean fushiguro?" she said, taking you by surprise too.

"yeah, i said that," you responded easily. "how do you know him?"

"oh no, i don't know him,” she told you honestly, lifting the toothbrush and getting back to work with the gel again. “but i know the fushiguros. they live across from us, y/n.”

you looked up at your mom, mouth agape.

"he's our neighbour?"

"they have been... for... some time... yes," she answered, nodding slightly.

it seemed as though the universe was on your side: this meant that you could sabotage him if you really wanted to, too. who was to stop you from shouting out his door number in class? what if you met his parents and made a formal complaint about him? surely even a five year old could have some influence over matters such as a small rivalry?

"can i egg his door?"

“y/n."

"sorry."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"y/n, you know the boogeyman guy?" said amira khalil, timid after she'd explained how she had to work up the courage to approach you.

you nodded.

"yeah, my mommy and i feed him every night," you said calmly, head down as you coloured in the big monster you'd drawn. "i think i already told you about him."

"you did,” said amira, confirming your thoughts. she was twiddling her thumbs, looking nervous. “i searched up him online with my older sister... i saw a video."

you looked up at her, patiently waiting for her to complete her sentence. she must have approached you for more than just some small information on what she'd got up to with her sister the other night. you guessed that maybe it had something to do with your knowledge.

"how do i protect myself from the boogeyman?" she finally asked, picking at her nails.

you shrugged.

“if my mommy and me forget to feed him, then he might come out."

amira's hesitant smile had dropped completely, brows raised and lip wobbling.

"but it's okay! we always remember to feed him," you reassured her. “but sometimes i can forget when someone distracts me — like if you — if you keeping on using the colouring pens when i need them — sometimes — sometimes it stays on my mind so i forget to feed him in the night.”

the poor girl did not look reassured in the slightest.

"but... but what if you get distracted over somefing else and then — then you f-forget to feed him?"

"that won't happen because he's not even real," said megumi, who had somehow appeared behind you despite this classroom not being his.

amira's cheeks flushed a warm colour.

“he’s not?"

you slammed your hand against the table and stood up.

“this is distracting me" you snapped, to which amira's eyes had widened and she realised what that meant.

"don't worry! i'll try and get my mom to remind your mom to feed him tonight."

and thankfully, before megumi could interrupt her straight-forward thoughts even further, she ran away, heading for the toilets.

you sighed irritably. this interaction had completely altered the rest of your day. instead of sitting in front of the tv for the rest of the evening, now you had a change of plans: sit by the home telephone and impersonate your own mother to make sure the news never got to your mom.

"why are you even here? this isn't your class, imposter!"

"i had to give something to miss huckleberry."

"go away, fushigo."

“it's — never mind."

———

"y/n, are you meant to be here?" miss turner had asked you, but only after you had entered the doors of the other class.

you noticed the most biggest difference between your classroom and the other classroom: the teacher’s desk was not on the left side, it was on the right. furthermore, there were only four group tables, not five, leaving more carpet space. instead of two toy boxes, there were three, filled to the brim with toys like lego, dolls and trucks.

you preferred your own classroom, especially when this one's bookshelf lacked any personality (where were the pretty fairy lights?).

"yeah, i am," you answered with a smile. "i — um — i had — i had to — i had to give something to you from miss huckleberry."

"oh?" said miss turner, and you had seen her big, brows eyes scan your empty hands. on instinct, you put them behind your back and smiled. "so... what is it? where is it?"

"um —”

and then you heard that dawdling voice again.

"it's not even real.”

you desperately wanted to turn around and elbow him in the face. you were the same height, it would have definitely worked too, but though you were impulsive, you were not reckless — in the direct presence of a teacher, his teacher too, you knew better.

miss turner's eyes had darted from you to megumi, curiosity lacing her soft features.

"what do you mean by that, megumi?"

"she's lying, miss."

one day, you vowed, as miss turner walked you back to your class by your hand, you will find a way to annoy him just as much as he annoys you.

———

the playground seemed even bigger now that everyone had been occupied by the new toys brought to fill the toy boxes inside. at first, you felt excited about it: new toys meant new entertainment. however, after seeing what the toys were, it had not taken you too long to lose interest.

still, there were a fair few of you outside, playing tag and running around till your breaths ran out.

you were on the twin swings with gabriela robinson (short name: gabi). it would have been enjoyable if that teacher assistant wasn't practically breathing down your neck, making sure everyone was behaving. why couldn't she have watched from the top of the slide? it created a wider field of vision anyway, why was she choosing to stand behind you?

“look, it’s megumi on the bike!” gabi had pointed out.

indeed, she was correct: it really was megumi on a bike, simply riding around with it in circles.

boring, you thought in your head.

"you know, megumi has a girl name, how funny is that?" you gossiped in hushed tones, chuckling and giggling at the thought just as megumi had passed you with the bike.

you almost choked on your own giggles when megumi slid to a stop right in front of you. he did not look pleased.

"y/n, that's not very nice," that annoying voice of the teacher assistant had cut in.

your smile fell, serious-looking as you turned your head to look back at her and say, “i wasn't talking to you."

the woman's face had turned angry.

"go to the naughty corner!"

you did not put up a fight. you got off the swings, glared at megumi (he was still looking at you without any visible emotion) and then walked yourself back inside.

you made another vow to yourself: that stupid teacher assistant would be your enemy from that day onwards.

———

"i saw your dad yesterday," you said to megumi, approaching him on the playground by the sand pit.

neither of you were in the sand pit. in fact, megumi looked disgusted at the mere sight of it. he was such a picky person in your mind — had he spent most of recess simply judging the sand pit?

he seriously needed help.

"why is he so fat?" you asked bluntly.

if your statement earlier hadn't caught his attention, what you just commented did. oddly enough, he did not look as offended as you had expected him to be. he simply looked... baffled, as though the way his dad looked was self-explanatory (which, it was, he was fat in your eyes, so why did he look at you like what you had just asked was all sorts of wrong?).

"he's not fat,” he said, just as bluntly. he stared back at you as though it were obvious.

"yes he is," you shot back, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "i saw him. and i saw him taking you to school so that — that means he's fat in the morning and fat at night too!"

he exhaled through his mouth, looking away and grumbling something about how he thought his mom was lying about you living near. you ignored that, still demanding answers.

"so why is he fat?"

“he’s not,” said megumi, emphasising the final word. “it’s his muscles.”

"does he eat too much?" you questioned as if you hadn't heard him. "what do you guys always have for dinner? probably — probably — er — burgers and fries and soda and lots of ice cream right? but your dad maybe takes too much, is that why you're so skinny?"

megumi's gaze hardened, face stony as he clarified harshly, "it's called muscles.”

but then a thought had just occurred to you, one that had you absolutely startled and staring off into space, watching as alexa clement hopped off the swings and left it moving back and forth with momentum. what if, you questioned to yourself, megumi ended up like his dad? what if he ended up learning how to be extremely fat?

you didn't hate megumi, of course. you never hated him, you just found him to be a thorn at your side. however, that did not mean that you would allow even a thorn at your side to grow as fat as his very father.

"megumi...”

and now you found yourself unwilling to imagine a very unhealthy and fat megumi, yet your brain just did not listen to you, the picture already set in your head. you slowly turned your head to look at him, eyes wide with worry.

"what.”

"oh my gosh... what if you end up like that?"

he looked as deadpanned as ever.

“i won’t.”

"megumi it's — it's gonna be fine because — because my mommy learned me how to make a lunchbox," you explained seriously. "i’ll help you make a healfy one so you — like — you don't look like your dad and become fat.”

"leave me alone," he said, annoyed.

he kicked and stomped at the floor, the sand left over flying up and entering your mouth. you coughed and spat at the floor, shouting at megumi, but you had heard the sound of his footsteps distancing themselves from you, a little too fast to be considered a walk. he had run away from you after leaving you to practically die at the taste of sand.

“MIIIIIIISS!”

———

the middle of october meant that there would be a parent-teacher conference. although it seemed too early (the other kindergarten schools do it much later on in the year) the one week holiday was nearing and it meant that a formal report had to be given to your parents about your behaviour, attitude to learning, relationships with other students, etc.

a lot of the parents had lined up by the double doors, the wall separating the two classrooms had been pushed away somehow (you had sat staring at it for a while) and the classrooms were now merged to be one big ‘boss' classroom (as you would say).

with the rest of you students having nothing to do but wait for your parents to finish their individual meetings with your teachers, you all huddled together and made conversation. you learnt the names of the students from the other class, interacted with them, and asked which of the adults were their parents.

your mother seemed to be running late, so you couldn't answer that question.

but someone (david yeboah) had asked megumi (who was standing across from you) who his dad was.

after megumi's stunt the other day, you felt the need to get back at him, embarrass him if you will. anyway, it wasn't your fault that his dad didn't have a healthy diet.

“guys,” you said loudly, as though you were making an important announcement — you were. "megumi's dad is a fatty!"

all of the kids stared at you in awe, some had even whispered ‘really?'. you nodded, ignoring the hard stare megumi was directing at you.

"yeah," you said in a hushed tone, quiet, but loud enough for all of the kids to hear you. “i saw him, he's really big, it's true! megumi's dad is a fatty —"

you turned around, nearly bumping head first into... megumi's dad's legs. you looked up, heart pounding from the vision above you.

if you thought he was big from a distance, then god knows what you thought now. his chest took up your entire sight, he was large enough to crush you with his fat hands if he so pleased.

the smirk that you had seen him wear before in the early mornings by his house had faded now. though, to your pleasure, he did not look angry at all. sure, his dark brows were knitting together as he looked down at you, and sure, his eyes were squinted. but he looked more confused than he did angry.

still, the realisation that he had heard you call him a 'fatty' made your heart race. not to mention, he looked terrifying from down there.

without a word, you simply turned the other way and speed-walked to the toy box, distancing yourself from him.

"woah…” you muttered to yourself, pressing a hand to your chest and feeling your heart beat hardly against it. “scary.”

———

you were sat by the book corner, a few other people occupying the bean bags with you. the school had bought a ton of new books for you to read, so lately, you'd been spending most of your time by the bookshelves and less and less of your time terrorising the other kids (and that teacher assistant).

you believed that the new books had been the best investment the school had made. however, it was bothersome when the other kids would beg you for story times again when you were clearly occupied.

besides that, it was blissful being able to find new entertainment in such a boring place.

at the moment, you had been showing your classmates the fiction book you had in your hands, a book that miss huckleberry stated had been shipped straight from the uk (someone failed in doing a good british accent too and it made you cringe).

it was about this girl (she had a silly name, you thought) called goldilocks and her adventure with the house belonging to three talking bears.

"no, david, that's not how the story went," you said wisely. “the baby bear went back in the room and saw goldilocks ru— ru— ruining everyfing.”

"that's not even real.”

you looked up: megumi was standing by the entrance of the book fort you had made for the book corner. he looked serious (when did he not?) and he was staring at the book held up in your small hands. in his own arms was a larger book, thin enough to imply that there wasn't much story to it, but unlike the other books, the book he possessed had real life images as its cover.

"it's goldilocks and the three bears," you informed him, eyes narrowed.

"yeah... and it's not even real."

"it's a book!"

he held up his own one.

"this is a book too."

"yeah, so that's not real either!"

"it is,” he said, with a tone of finality.

you were not having it:

"how come your book is real and mine isn't?"

"mine is non-fiction," said megumi, and you felt glee in your chest when he nearly stuttered over the word 'non-fiction’. megumi had never stuttered before, but he was also not super human either. he was the same as the rest of you. "yours is fiction. fiction means fake —"

"MIIIIIIISS! MEGUMI’S LYING!"

"y/n i am sitting right near you, you do not have to yell.”

———

though the academic year had not even been close to ending, the kindergarten had made a boring, old tuesday an open-day for future students to attend. current students were still required to go to school like usual, only, towards home-time, the kindergarten would be open till eight o’clock in the evening.

the year before, you had not stayed that late, seemingly bored with the idea. this year, however, your mother had to work late and could not pick you up. conveniently (for her, not you), the open-day fell right on her work overtime-day. she did not have to call for one of your aunts to come look after you (a hassle for her, really, because although her family loved you, they believed that you were a devil-child, hence the difficulty in trying to get them to come over).

several other kids had stayed back too, but only out of their own will.

apart from one particular child — megumi fushiguro.

he did not look happy at the prospect of staying for longer than when the clock hit three o’clock (home-time). you shared his displeasure silently, though there really was no need for him to be there, you noted, for you had seen his father accompany other parents by the coffee stand.

had he been forced there too? megumi’s fat dad looks annoyed, you thought to yourself.

you did not dwell too much on the thought, for you and the remaining kids had decided to play hide-and-seek. some of the new kids — accompanied by their parents — had joined in too. you did not mind, the more the merrier, especially when your actual classmates had refused to allow you not to be seeker.

you shrugged, uncaring of which role you played in the game.

so, eyes shut, you counted from one to twenty:

“one… two… three…” you counted, already bored. you continued. “…ten… eleven… twelve-thirteen-fourteen-fifteen —”

“hey no fair that’s cheating!” some whiny voice you didn’t recognise had spoken.

you scowled, turning around to see who it was: no surprise, it had been some random kid, not one of your classmates who knew better than to doubt you.

“found you, you’re out.”

the ginger kid looked scandalised.

“but —”

“sixteen… seventeen… eighteen…”

he ran off crying somewhere.

“nineteen-twenty!” you shouted quickly, jumping up and uncovering your eyes excitedly. “ready or not, here i come!”

you skipped along the classroom, picking out several dumb kids who had hidden in places that were very obvious to you. another one of those random new kids had stayed in the centre of the carpet (which was out in the open), crouched with his eyes shut.

you stared at him, deadpanned.

“i found you.”

and he had the audacity to ask “how?”.

dumb kid, you thought, as you walked out to the playground and saw some kids hiding behind the slide. in order to get there, you had to pass the coffee stand.

the sight of the teacher assistant looking bored and annoyed pleased you: a smile radiated your face which had previously been decorated with scowls and frowns.

you skipped past megumi’s dad along the way.

“hey fat-man we’re just playing hide-and-seek!” you informed him happily.

you did not wait for his response as you continued to run away, a jump in your step as you slowly got closer and closer to the slide; you had passed a stoic megumi, who simply stood there as you casually insulted his father. you could have sworn that you heard the insulted man audibly grunt, muttering something that sounded like ‘who is that child?’.

you did not have the time to entertain his questions: those kids were getting away.

———

mondays were the worst days in your opinion: it was the start of the week, meaning that you still had four more days to go before the weekend would arrive. the weekend was also only two days long, one day which you would spend stressing about monday being the day after that. it was unnecessary stress for a five year old.

mondays were also the days where that annoying teacher assistant would stay in your class more than the other class. you didn’t want her there, so why was she always present? it irked you, she held no purpose, really.

it had been nearing lunch time as you sat on the grass on the playground with two other girls: kimberly garnett and alexa clement. they had been telling you about how, apparently, a boy from the other class (alejandro henderson) had a crush on one of the girls from your class, though it was undiscovered who.

ultimately, it was a gossip session.

but the conversation of alejandro and his secret crush was starting to bore you. it was not long before the topic had changed.

“why is megumi alone all them times?” said kimberly, who had craned her head over her shoulder to look at the dark-haired boy — he was staring at some cat that had somehow ended up in the playground.

none of you had actually answered the question. none of you ever answered any questions, you simply spoke for the sake of it.

you leaned in, face gleaming with excitement as you put a hand over your mouth to whisper.

“megumi looks like a porcupine —”

“y/n!”

you stared up at the teacher assistant who somehow spawned in front of you. her eyes were fierce and demanding, staring at you with indignation. how had she heard you? you had been certain that you were whispering. did she somehow have super ears?

you did not say anything, choosing to remain silent. she raised a pointed brow at you, as though to say ‘explain yourself’, but you did not submit.

instead, with a sigh, you stood up, dusted your skirt off, and walked yourself back inside, claiming the time-out seat without having to be asked. and all the while, you felt eyes burn holes at the back of your head, knowing full well that they did not belong to the nosy teacher assistant.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the autumn season had hit hard as the month of october had slowly come to an end. by the point it had turned into november, you were now attending school with mittens, scarves, and a big coat.

one particular morning, you had woken up feeling giddy: your hatred towards summer was unmatched. in your mind, the autumn and winter days were the best, no questions asked.

you had gotten out of bed with a smile (for the first time in a while) and attended kindergarten without any protests — your mother had been pleasantly surprised and there were no complaints.

even the sight of megumi did not evoke annoyance out of you.

the kids had stopped asking for the stories you would tell seeing as darkness would hit the skies earlier than what you had all been used to: it meant that there would be more time for fear of the evil entities you told them all about should they ask for the stories. it was convenient, for you could still practically control your peers through the threats of the previous stories whilst also not being annoyed by being asked for new ones. besides, halloween had only just passed too, and kenji lee had claimed that he’d seen someone dressed up as the bloody ginger-woman — you did not believe him because you made that woman up for one of your old stories. ‘she wasn’t even real,’ you had said to him, and then slapped a hand over your mouth when you realised just who you had begun to sound like.

one particular frosty day, you approached megumi on the playground and simply stood beside him, curious to see what he had been staring at for the past five minutes. he gave you an odd look, but did not question you for accompanying him.

until he did.

rudely, too, you had to add.

“why are you just standing there, megumi?”

“why is your hands so pale right now?”

“what are you staring at?”

“how does your hair stay like that?”

“why —”

“what do you even want?” he had snapped, turning his head ever so slightly so as to glare at you with his cold, dark eyes.

you laughed.

“you can’t — you can’t — you can’t answer a question with — with another question,” you told him, chuckling. “silly billy.”

“you just asked me ten hundred… million… billion questions,” he scowled, looking away from you to stare at something in the distance again.

“that’s not a number —”

“shut up.”

“i’ll tell miss.”

“miss never believes you.”

you shrugged. fair point, you had thought. he raised a good argument. it was odd, any time you told off of anyone, it always ended up backfiring. however, if it were anyone else telling off of you instead, you’d end up warming up the naughty chair for a future sitter (most likely you again) as per usual.

“so…” you began, bending your knees slightly to crouch a little and reach megumi’s downcast eyes. “you didn’t answer my question.”

“which one?”

“what are you staring at?” you repeated, standing up straight again and letting your fingers intertwine in the comfort of your unconnected pocket of your coat.

megumi hesitated before answering.

“i saw a fox when my dad dropped me off.”

you looked around, inspecting the bushes.

“well maybe you was seeing monsters,” you said wisely. “my mommy says —”

“your mom never said anything,” megumi cut in icily, “it’s always you.”

for some reason, you did not find it in you to be offended. maybe it was because he hadn’t been lying — it was true: your mother never actually said anything, you simply used her as a way to lie about untrue facts. it was good to use someone older as a guide, less people denied your statements because of them. adults simply couldn’t be wrong.

“ok,” you began, unsure of where to continue. “okay well my mommy says i have to play with lonely kids so i’m just gonna play with you, all right?”

megumi, with his hands shoved in his designer coat (he was rich? his father didn’t look rich), glared at you, looking mildly offended. what had you said wrong?

it seemed that you would never know, not when he hadn’t bothered to say.

“no,” he said instead, and his tone seemed final.

you grinned. “oh, was that a yes?”

“no— i said no.”

you ignored him, feeling fidgety as you perked up excitedly.

“okay ready steady tag you’re it!”

you tapped him on his arm, excitedly running away from him. you knew that he wouldn’t chase after you, so you opted to not run very far and then skip around him, running in circles as he remained in the centre. and as per usual, he wore his signature scowl.

“stop it you’re making me dizzy,” said megumi.

you didn’t stop. you continued to run around him in circles, urging him to play.

“don’t you know how to play tag?” you asked, teasingly. “you know everything except tag —”

“no,” said megumi, but you could tell his resolve was faltering.

“i’m gonna keep running around you megumi! it’s fun!”

megumi stood completely still as your excitement grew, the blood beneath your skin running with adrenaline as the beat of your heart increased. with you alternating between skips and runs, you were slowly growing out of breath; mixed with your laughter only made it harder to keep it all up.

until the circles had stopped — megumi’s eye twitched and the next thing you knew, the dark haired boy was charging at you.

you squealed, frightened as you tried jogging away, but with how much you had ran in circles previously, your speed was not your greatest. it felt like a dream, your feet hitting the ground slowly.

“no — megumi —” you shouted, scared as you looked back and saw him catching up. “i didn’t” — you gasped for air — “think” — you exhaled — “you would” — you let out a breath — “actually chase me!”

and you had learnt a new thing about megumi that day: as small as you both were, his little legs took him far. he was probably the most speediest kid you had seen in your five years of living, the lesson learnt extremely well when you felt a hand press against your shoulder, pushing you forwards as you stumbled and halted, nearly falling over as you gathered your breath.

you turned around, shoulders raising and falling, chest heaving as you stared at him. his hair was still as dishevelled as ever, but he looked more ruffled than he usually did, tiny breaths of air falling from his nose.

“got you,” he had mumbled under his breath, staring back at you fiercely.

you looked back at him, scrambling for excuses.

“actually you didn’t get me,” you told him, extending your arm to hold onto the red roundabout, the crisp autumn leaves decorating its floor. “see? i’m home. you can’t get me because i’m safe.”

you gestured to the connection between your touch and the roundabout.

megumi’s brows had furrowed, a crease forming between his dark brows on his pale skin. he did not seem to agree with you, but unlike the other kids, it seemed as though he would keep up an argument with you.

“you just made that up,” he said, sounding confident in his statement.

“no,” you denied, truthfully. “ask — ask — er —” you stammered, looking around for a potential helper.

david had been crossed off the list immediately — he was rather stupid. kenji had been crossed too — he would try and go against you out of fun. nia akello, a girl from the other class you and megumi were both familiar with, would be perfect. she was not biased and had also been a victim of the ‘home’ rule in tag you’d introduced some time before.

“ask nia!” you said brightly, and before megumi could say anything in an argument, you waved at nia and called for her. “nia! hey! over here!”

confused and shocked, nia akello ran over to where you and megumi had been standing, out of breath by the time she had reached the two of you (it had been a short distance, arguably).

“nia, isn’t it true that —”

“shut up you’ll cheat,” snapped megumi.

you hadn’t been silenced by him, necessarily, you had been silenced into shock. and offence. you were very offended by the way he had spoken to you publicly.

whether he’d seen your expression or not, he had made no indication, for megumi had not wasted a second before he rushed into speaking to nia.

“is ‘home’ real in tag?”

“yep!” said nia, beaming. “can i go now?”

“n—”

“yes you can, nia,” you smiled, shooing her away before megumi could corrupt her into believing that a ‘home’ in tag did not exist.

to be completely honest, it didn’t exist. you simply made that up when you got tired of running so much and needed a break. in your defence, it was good! it made the game more interesting after all, what’s not to like about it?

apparently quite a lot of things, for megumi did not look the tiniest bit impressed (not that you had expected him to be anyway).

“fine,” said megumi, taking you by surprise. you took your hand off the roundabout as you listened to him speak. “the swings is the new home.”

“what —”

“i’m gonna chase you now.”

megumi took a step back, sliding his feet against the concrete as an act of intimidation — it was working.

you scrambled to look for an out.

“but —”

“five… four…”

“megumi —”

“three…”

“that’s not fai—”

“two…”

“wait!”

“one-and-a-half…”

“UGH!” you sighed, jumping up and running away with as much speed as you could gather.

megumi was on your heels the second you had taken off, having reached zero on his countdown. you had realised (as you pushed past several people to get away from the evil child), that you had foolishly ran away without looking at where you were heading, now finding yourself further and further away from the swings.

you looked back, cautious, and immediately regretted it when megumi’s face appeared inches from your own.

you let out a yelp at the sight of his raised hand and swerved away.

“this is —” you gasped out, scrunching up your dress as you ran; you had very nearly been caught, “SCARY!”

your throat grew dry, panting for breath whilst you dodged megumi’s hand. you made the dumb decision of looking back again, letting out a squeak when you had realised just how close he was getting.

“I WANT MY MOMMY —”

it had seemed that your call for your mother had drawn the attention of miss turner, the teacher of the other class. previously, she had been looking over the sandpit and making sure your peers hadn’t been making a mess, but as you neared it, she’d looked up and caught you sprinting.

“y/n? what’s —”

“MIIIIIIIISS!” you cried, just as megumi’s palm had fallen flat against your back.

dramatically, you tumbled forwards, sliding against the concrete and lying against it despite your disgust with all the dirt.

you opened your eyes, met with the sight of megumi staring down at you, chest heaving as he let out little pants out of exhaustion. still, even in his tired state, he did not look the slightest bit pleased.

“i win.”

you sat up, groaning. “no you —”

megumi did not wait for you to say your piece before he left, saying something to miss turner and then entering the building again without looking back at you.

and all the while, you smiled at the thought that you had basically forced megumi to play with you.

but that had been before you’d taken a look at the state you were in, and then inwardly cursed at yourself for playing such a dangerous game with a kid who had little care for anything at all.

home-time that day had been amusing too. your mother had been running late (miss huckleberry had informed you earlier) so you spent the time sitting outside with members of the other class and getting to know them better — it was mainly due to the fact that the teacher assistant had once again been breathing down your neck, you simply had to get away from her.

your chats were being cut short as the parents began turning up, which made you rather bored.

up until the point where megumi had to leave.

megumi had been sitting in the corner, a little two meter distance between you and the rest of his class. you had no idea whether that was a normal thing or not, you didn’t bother questioning it, merely chatting along with the other girls.

but then you’d heard miss turner say something rather interesting.

“megumi,” she had said, calling out to him from beside you. “you can go, your dad’s here.”

when indeed, his dad was not there. you frowned, looking around for the fat man that you knew to be megumi’s father. there were only several mothers, young women with strollers and other dads already occupied by their own children.

but in the far distance, approaching you all slowly, had been a man with white hair, taller than anyone you had ever seen, and wearing round, opaque sunglasses despite the weather being very gloomy.

but that simply couldn’t be megumi’s father: you knew megumi’s father. you’s seen megumi’s father. you’d spoken to megumi’s father. and that man, wearing a smirk worth gold, was certainly not megumi’s father.

and it seemed that megumi had agreed.

“he’s not my dad,” he had grumbled, hiding the lower part of his face behind his designer coat.

“yes, yes, your godfather —”

“you have a godfather?” you spoke up, curious.

megumi glared at you, eyes narrowed.

“i didn’t know that!” you beamed, looking back at the white-haired man.

you hopped off of the long bench you had been sitting on, approaching megumi without taking your eyes off of the man.

odd, you had thought then. the man looked very different, his hair colour was unique, his style was very questionable too (mainly the sunglasses). his hairstyle made sense, you decided to yourself — it was nearly as messy as megumi’s, but not quite as dishevelled.

you leaned in, placing a hand over your mouth to whisper. megumi did not lean in.

“so is your dads gay?”

he stared at you, startled.

“huh?”

it had been the first time you’d seen megumi appear shocked.

“because — because you have two dads,” you clarified helpfully. megumi still appeared to be taken aback. “so is your dads ga—”

“no,” he answered. “they don’t even like each other —”

“so why do you have two dads?”

“i don’t.”

“oh! is he your grandpapa?” you asked, eyes brightening. the white hair would make sense, then.

“no,” said megumi harshly. “he’s not anything.”

“hm,” you thought, looking at the white-haired man speaking to some other teacher. “so is he alb— albin— alban— is he albanian?”

megumi blinked at you.

“what?”

“don’t make me say it again,” you said. “it’s a hard word.”

“albanian?”

“yeah… i think. is he that?”

megumi stared at you for a short while before looking away, staring at the man you had been gossiping about. it did not click to him for some time, it seemed, for he looked as though he were in a little daydream, thinking about what you had meant. you did not have the energy to repeat yourself: as you had claimed, it was indeed a hard word.

luckily for you, a lightbulb had clicked on in megumi’s brain, and he looked at you with a frown.

“he’s not albino,” he had stated firmly. “do you even know what a godfather is?”

“yes!” you said, defensively. was he seriously accusing you of not knowing what a godfather actually was? how pathetic.

yet that look he was giving you… he was expecting you to give him the definition.

if he wanted to be proved wrong so badly, why didn’t he just say so?

you stood up straight.

“it’s when god picks your dad —”

“no.”

“but my mommy says —”

“no she never.”

you scowled at him. “it’s not my fault your dad is old!”

“he’s not my —”

“megumi!” a cheery, deep voice had interrupted casually. you looked up, a shadow fell over the two of you: it was megumi’s apparent godfather, grinning toothily and quite literally showing off his pearly whites.

from up-close, he looked like more of a giant. he had to be at least eight feel tall, you had decided. maybe home-time was always done outdoors due to people like him — it would be difficult to move past a door frame with ease.

he didn’t have any wrinkles. in fact, his skin looked quite smooth, like the skin of a teenager.

but his hair…

“my son!” said the man, arms wide open as though he were about to engulf a grumpy megumi into a bone-crushing hug — you couldn’t imagine that.

you looked at megumi, who had all but disappeared behind his coat. you resisted the urge to laugh. was megumi embarrassed?

“oh — megumi — finally made a friend?”

the man looked down at you, grinning.

“we’re not friends,” you heard megumi utter, but you ignored him (as per usual).

instead, you directed your attention to the man.

“how old are you?”

you thought you’d heard megumi groan.

the man’s grin had fallen, but reappeared just as fast as it had dropped. he bent down to your height, his arm hanging over his bent knee as he came face-to-face with you.

“why don’t you guess?”

your answer was quick.

“eighty-seven.”

and this time, when his grin had fallen, it had not returned.

“why would you say that?” snapped megumi, who had reappeared from his hiding place behind his coat. he looked irked, irritated, and annoyed. whether it had been at you or his guardian, you had no clue.

“okay… seventy nine?”

“what the hell?” demanded the man. you were unsure at who he was looking at now — his sunglasses were more opaque than they had seemed from afar.

megumi had turned away, something about ‘now i have to deal with it’ — you weren’t quite sure. you frowned, looking back at the man. he looked scandalised, outraged, and disappointed.

your jaw had dropped.

“you just sweared!” you gasped, eyes accusatory. “my mommy says swearing is bad.”

“well your mommy should’ve taught you what an old person looks like,” the man responded, a bite in his tone.

“she did! they’re like you!”

“i am not old!”

“you really aren’t?” you asked, expecting it to do less damage than it actually would.

“i’m not even twenty-one yet!” the man pouted, looking nearly faint.

“really?” you said, eyeing him up and down. “you look like — you look like you’ve — you’ve seen the world. like santa. are you santa? —”

“megumi,” said the man, standing up to his full height and turning away, adjusting the glasses sitting on top of his nose. “we’re leaving.”

“finally.”

you watched them go, frowning when the tall man looked back at you over his shoulder and stuck his tongue out at you. you scowled: father christmas was supposed to be nice to kids. maybe you needed to write a letter to the north pole about a formal complaint on him.

“guys,” you said, turning to look at the remaining kids still waiting for their parents to arrive. “i met father christmas!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

“i know what godfather means,” you stated proudly.

you and megumi were on the bikes. you had already been seated on one, megumi was starting to climb on the one next to you. he hadn’t looked at you once as he silently placed his feet on the pedals, brows furrowed in concentration as he gripped onto the handles.

“do you want to know what my mommy said?”

you stared at him with wide eyes, smiling despite the fact that nothing was actually amusing; you were still buzzing with excitement about the fact that megumi had a godfather. how sick was that? you’d never met someone with a godfather!

“no,” said megumi, checking the bell and seeing if it was able to ring well.

ding! ding!

“i’m gonna tell you anyways,” you informed him brightly. “my mommy s—”

ding!

you paused, beginning again after you the last ring of the bell had echoed.

“my mommy —”

ding!

“she says —”

ding! ding!

you frowned.

“my mommy says tha—”

ding! ding! ding!

you scowled.

“mommy-says-that-a-godfather —”

ding! ding! ding! ding!

your eyes narrowed as you placed your feet on the pedals and began cycling so that you were now face-to-face with megumi.

“you’re doing that on purpose!” you accused him, a crease formed in between your brows when you furrowed them.

megumi shrugged. “am i?”

“you can’t —” you began, stammering, “you can’t — you can’t answer a question by asking another one.” you shook your head at him. “you just can’t.”

megumi ignored you, taking off by pedalling away from you. you watched him leave, offended, before pedalling faster to catch up with him. several kids were in your way, using hula-hoops and skipping ropes that megumi had skilfully avoided. you, on the other hand, were in a rush to catch up to the boy, so you simply used your bell to alert them of your appearance.

ding! ding!

“‘scuse me! ‘scuse me! coming through!”

you were pretty sure someone fell somewhere behind you; you did not care.

it hadn’t taken long before you’d caught up to megumi. you cycled with him, nearly bumping your bike into his.

“you’re being mean, megumi.”

“ok.”

“anyways, my mommy says a godfather is a dad your parents chosed.”

megumi let out a noise, something between a grunt and a groan. “i don’t want to talk about him.”

“it’s okay! i kept your secret… kind of,” you said, as the both of you turned your bikes in the direction of the open space in the playground.

“secret?” said megumi, glancing at you from the corner of his eye without turning his head.

“mhm!” you nodded, smiling. “your godfather is santa —”

“no he’s no—”

you interrupted him by cheekily bumping your bike with his. his reaction had not been nearly the same as you had initially imagined: instead of being motivated, he nearly fell off his bike and glared at you once he’d regained his balance.

you cleared your throat, pedalling faster as you zoomed past him.

“race you!”

you hadn’t expected to actually hear a pair of wheels following after you. but you had slowly started to grow aware of the subtle surprises megumi could bring you.

later on that day, you hadn’t felt like going back to miss huckleberry’s class. when you had told megumi that your class were going to do a colouring task together, megumi had revealed that his class were going to do a painting task together. immediately you longed for the paints rather than the colouring pencils.

it wouldn’t be you if you never tried to do something about it; feeling adventurous, when the call had been given for all kids to go back to their respective classrooms, you had followed megumi back inside the door opposite yours.

he hadn’t noticed you then, perhaps that had been the reason why he’d given you an odd look when you took the empty seat beside him on the carpet.

“you’re not allowed here.”

“‘course i am!” you replied, smiling as you sat just like him — criss-cross-apple-sauce.

you smoothed out the creases on your dress as he gave you a blank look.

“you’ll get in trouble,” he informed you as though you’d been blissfully unaware (to him, it seemed like you were).

“if you keep saying stuff like that it means that you care if i — if i get in trouble so yeah.”

he gave you a look of disgust before he turned to face the board in front of the two of you, apparently careless.

“i don’t,” he said, with a tone of finality.

you shrugged, humming to yourself as you tightened the pigtails in your hair. you liked to think that he did care, even if it was quite obvious that he did not.

as the rest of the class had nearly finished filing in and taking their seats on the carpet, ms turner had sat on the chair by the teacher’s desk, looking around at you all. you watched as her big, round eyes had passed you naturally, before they’d darted back to you in surprise.

“y/n?” she voiced aloud.

megumi let out a scoff.

“told you,” he muttered, a hand over his mouth as he rested an elbow on his knee; you ignored him.

“yes miss?” you said, as though you were unaware of what was happening.

ms turner tilted her head at you, brows knitted together.

“why are you here?” she asked you, with genuine curiosity. there was no bite in her question either.

“i don’t want to draw and colour things because i think it’s boring,” you answered truthfully. “and i don’t like the ginger lady in my class so yeah. and i like painting and i like the thingy with the water paints.”

“does miss huckleberry know you’re here?”

you shook your head.

but perhaps that had been a mistake, for you had been walked back to your classroom once more (your protests fell on deaf ears).

however, that hadn't stopped you from constantly going back, returning once more to the seat beside megumi.

the second time you had wrongly and happily entered his classroom, you made your way down to the carpet space, ready to occupy the usually-vacant seat next to megumi, only to find that the seat had been used by megumi's knee. he'd still been sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce, of course, yet his right knee had been extended to the point where a little more than half the space had been taken.

he looked up at you once he had noticed your shadow fall over his lap. he moved his knee back in place, a blank look on his face as he did so.

"did you just put your foot on that seat?" you asked, a brow raised in disgust.

"... ye—"

"well now i can't sit there because i don't know where your foot has been and it might be dirty," you said, walking around him to sit on the vacant seat on his left instead.

his eyes followed you as you moved. you could not gauge out the expression on his face: megumi was simply too hard to read, and it bothered you a bit, but not enough to make you complain too much.

it had taken a total of twenty minutes and fifty-one seconds before you'd been spotted and then escorted out of the classroom that day.

on another random day, a similar scenario had occurred where you'd been dropped off at your actual classroom by your mother, but you swerved past the door to enter the one opposite. your mother had not questioned it, deciding that during school hours, you were not her responsibility (thank god).

when you walked over to the carpet-space, you'd seen that megumi had already arrived, only, his hand was now facing palm-down on your favourite seat. you approached him as you passed a disheartened girl (inaya farhat) who'd just had a short conversation with megumi.

he looked up at you, slowly removing his hand and placing it back on his lap.

"did you just put your hand on my seat?" you asked, disgusted once again.

he glared at you.

"yes."

the way in which he was glaring at you had you concerned (just the slightest bit). the intensity behind the way in which he looked at you had also frightened you, he looked as though you had insulted his entire family (arguably, you were nearly there).

"erm — yeah, so i hope your hand's not dirty," you said, leisurely sitting down on your designated seat. "like — like picking your nose or scratching your bum —"

"i'm not veera," said megumi.

you frowned.

"who's veera?"

megumi faced the board, answering without sparing you another glance.

"if you stay in this class, you'll find out."

and you did.

you had remained in the class for days after that. it became so normalised for you to be there, that even your mother would drop you off at the opposite door of your original class without question: at some point that month, your full name had been transferred from register-to-register — megumi hadn't been bothered by that, but he became quite aggressive when you kept rubbing it in his face:

"remember when you said i wasn't allowed to —"

"i get it!"

on one particular afternoon, where parents and carers were allowed to enter the classroom and observe the work their kids had done in their respective books before collecting them, you had found yourself in a sticky situation.

after megumi's father had come in (and quite literally stood at the back and simply nodded his head at his son in acknowledgment), you and megumi had gotten into a heated debate about which types of books were better. where you were more interested in fiction and fake reality, megumi argued that non-fiction and actuality was better.

you strongly disagreed, so you attempted to prove your point by leading him to the book corner and pulling out some of your personal favourites, one of them being 'the hungry caterpillar'.

"i like this one," you told him, handing the book over to him. he looked skeptical as he flipped through the pages. "and you can't say it's not even real because it is."

"hmph," said megumi, looking grumpy.

he didn't look as displeased with your suggestions as he usually did, so you decided that you'd won him over.

"what else?" he asked.

you beamed, hurriedly bending down to where you'd hidden your most precious book. your little hand plunged itself underneath the shelf and searched for it with earnest, pulling it out once you'd felt its laminated cover beneath your skin.

"this one," you said, standing back up and presenting it to him. again, he looked skeptical, but you had won him over once, surely you could do it a second time? "noisy nora."

he took the book from your hands and, like before, skimmed through it. his face scrunched up in disgust.

"that one is my most bestest book in the whole wide wor—"

"rats can't speak."

you looked up; megumi was stoic.

your smile had turned to a scowl.

"well jokes on you, nora's not a rat. she's a mouse."

megumi ignored you, going over to his side of the book corner where the non-fiction books were kept and pulled out a large one, pages thin and smooth. he turned around and showed it to you as you bent back down and shoved 'noisy nora' back under the book shelf.

from where you were sat on your knees, you could see that the title of megumi's book read 'how a caterpillar turns into a butterfly'.

you stood back up again, analysing the cover.

"looks boring," you commented.

"it's real."

"'the hungry caterpillar' tells a real story."

you walked away from the book corner and megumi followed, still looking very unimpressed with your opinion on his most favourite book.

however, as you aimed to make your way to the toy box, you stopped just as you'd entered the carpet space at the sound of a baby. your face formed an expression of confusion. what was a baby doing here at the kindergarten?

you turned in the direction of where the sound was coming from. megumi had been quietly complaining about something, but his discontent had fallen on deaf ears, for your eyes were focused on the blonde, snotty child wobbling towards you, her blue eyes wide with excitement.

spit bubbled at the corner of her mouth, the same mouth that was slowly taking in all the snot running down her nose.

your eyes widened, horrified at the sight before you. the sight that was slowly reaching you.

"ew," you said, watching as the child wobbled and clapped her hands — one hand gripped onto a baby-blue pacifier.

"ew..." you repeated, when the same child had dropped her pacifier on the floor.

"EW!" you cried, when the child locked eye contact with you and waddled closer.

"veeraaa!" the child sang, voice high as she nearly toppled over with her uneven balance. some of her spit had dropped onto the floor, gooey and... was that a tint of green?

"EWWWW!" you cried, making an attempt to run away but realising that megumi was behind you, resistant to your constant pushing. "OH MY GOD — OH MY GOD —"

your cries had caught the attention of nearly everyone else in the room, wondering what had been causing such a ruckus.

you felt like crying when the disgusting baby still managed to walk.

"veeeraaaaa —"

"EEEEEWWWWWWW!" you shouted, struggling to push megumi away so you could run.

the blonde kid was nearly a whole metre away from you now, giggling and singing her own name.

you'd had enough — a metre was simply too close for you.

"hey — what're you —"

yelling out your disgust, your hands grabbed onto megumi and pulled him in front of you, pushing him towards the child and practically using him as a human shield. better him than you, you'd concluded.

"veeeeraaaa!"

"AAAHH — EWWWW!"

"veeeraaa —"

"what the hell?" snapped megumi, taking several steps back in an attempt to distance himself from veera.

slowly, the disgust that you held had somehow divided so that the rest of the kids held the same sentiment. all of your classmates had begun screaming: 'ew's could be heard all around you: kids made attempts to jump over tables and chairs to get away from the blonde baby, parents were used as hiding objects so their children could stand behind them, and the blonde baby turned her attention elsewhere, approaching ruth smith who burst into tears when she waddled over to him.

the baby looked at you and megumi again. amongst all the screaming and yelling, yours still managed to be the loudest.

"EEEWW!" you cried, pushing megumi forward again. he was resistant. "MEGUMI —"

"veeeeraaa," veera sang, as sofia rylee shouted at you to run. "veeeraaa —"

"my name's megumi," said megumi, sounding annoyed and offended.

the commotion had slowly started to end when another blonde woman (who you assumed was veera's mother) ran over and picked her up, holding her in her arms as she stared at you, looking very, very offended.

you didn't care. that child of hers was disgusting, this should be a lesson to her, you had decided.

and somehow you were left out of breath, panting and exhaling as the woman turned and left, followed by miss huckleberry who had appeared out of thin air.

"that was scary," you commented, a hand pressed against your chest dramatically. "so scary."

megumi had finally turned around and regarded you with a glare.

"oh yeah?" he challenged, angry. "did you get pushed to her?"

your hand been returned back to your side.

"i had to save myself!" you explained, unable to understand megumi's anger towards you. "you would do the same!"

"no i wouldn't," said megumi. "you had more than enough room to run."

his arm had been extended to present to you the space that you neglected.

before you could respond, miss huckleberry's voice had cut through the air sharply.

"mr fushiguro!" she'd said, and both you and megumi had looked up to see what had happened.

megumi's dad was leaning against the wall, which may have looked rather innocent... till you'd squinted your eyes and caught him smiling. when miss huckleberry had appeared from chasing after the woman that had left, affronted, you had no idea, but she was here, and condemning megumi's father for his silent actions.

megumi's father simply shrugged, and megumi himself walked away, apparently embarrassed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

you and megumi found yourself seated at your specific spaces on the carpet, arguing about a situation that had occurred merely a day prior. ever since the veera incident, everyone in your new class seemed to know your name (and just how you were like). the news had also somehow travelled to your original class, and during play time, kimberly had asked what had happened: you brushed it off, claiming that any allegations against you were untrue.

that same day, you'd even waltzed back into your old classroom saying that you no longer wanted to be part of the other class, your disgust with veera taking over any other conscious part of your mind. miss huckleberry hadn't been impressed:

"no, y/n," she'd said, sounding firm. "go back to your class."

"that's not my class anymore," you'd attempted to persuade her. you looked at megumi, who had been giving you an odd look from the door. you approached him and pulled his arm. "c'mon megumi, let's go together!"

he had not complied.

that led you to the discussion you'd been having with megumi now, both stubborn in your points.

"you never got in trouble," you told megumi, scoffing when he'd told you about how miss huckleberry had given him an earful (though apparently, she'd been a lot more gentle about it than she had with you).

"i did," said megumi, defiant. he looked away, a hand resting over his mouth to muffle his final comment. "my stupid dad didn't help either."

"what was that?"

"nothing."

"oh okay."

it hadn't taken long for the rest of the class to follow, the carpet space now being taken up by the bottoms of each and every individual that had attended the kindergarten that day.

usually the class would start by singing a nursery rhyme together (megumi would turn extra grumpy during those) but on that particular day, miss turner had decided to do something different. you had noticed how smiley she'd been that morning, but had never questioned it: she looked rather pretty when she smiled.

"so instead of our usual nursery rhymes..." she began, creating suspense, "we're going to do something a little more special today!"

you all looked at each other, confused and excited. you felt giddy in your seat, your legs shaking in anticipation. when you'd looked at megumi, you could see the interest in his face even if he tried his best to hide it.

"so all of you are going to partner up with somebody, it can be anyone you like," said miss turner, arms spread out to represent you all, "and together, you'll make a story! it can be about anything you want, anything in the big wide world. does everyone understand?"

everyone nodded excitedly, several 'yes's could be heard as everyone had stood up, looking around for partners. you'd seen cameron peterski and kamenova petrova hold hands and skip away. you walked into the huddle of peers, spinning on the spot in an attempt to make eye contact with one of the girls.

zuri camara had come into view, and you had half a mind to ask her to be partners with you, only, you'd been reminded of the time when she had worn your costume (it was the school's property, but everyone knew that dress was practically owned by you).

so you turned away, back towards her as you approached your seat once more. megumi had been standing by it, looking at you and promptly ignoring denis ivanov, who'd been attempting to catch his attention. you grinned, skipping forward and pulling megumi by the arm.

"megumi you're my partner because i said so!"

he did not respond, but you found that pulling him to the table on the far right had been much easier than you'd expected.

"okay so i want to make a story about a princess —"

"no."

you frowned at him, pulling the a4 sheet of paper towards you. megumi had the pencil in his hand, still out of reach.

"what do you want to write about, dinosaurs then?" you mocked him, rolling your eyes. "oh — oh i forgot — you'll probably say it's not even real right?"

megumi, with his fingers still protecting the pencil from your clutches, stared at you, deadpanned.

"they were real," he said, matter-of-factly. "they were alive sixty five million, billion... trillion years ago."

you scoffed, unsure of whether to believe him or not. you decided not to question him, with his history of constantly being right, you knew better than to make a fool of yourself again.

"i want to make a story about a caterpillar turning into a butterfly."

"that is the most boring-est, boring story ever," you stated, unimpressed. "in the whole wide world."

megumi scowled at you. you continued.

"and everyone's gonna fall asleep like this, look."

you demonstrated the snoring of what you imagined your peers would do at the sound of megumi's story, your forehead falling flat on the table and your pretend snores being very loud. you raised your head once more, noticing how megumi hadn't been looking. persistent, you grabbed onto his face and turned it to face you.

"you're not looking, look!"

you imitated it again, ignoring the way he'd slapped your hand off his face. your pretend snores had grown louder and megumi did not look pleased.

"you sound like a pig," he said, coldly.

"well — well you are just a rude-o."

"not a word."

"but my mommy says —"

however you had been cut off by megumi's stern look, one that practically screamed 'don't try it'.

"fine," you said, sighing. "let's play scissors-paper-rock."

"you mean rock-paper-scissors?"

you made a motion of almost choking the dark-haired boy, but stopped yourself despite your frustrations. and all the while, megumi had not once flinched. instead, he'd given you a look of annoyance.

rock-paper-scissors had not gone well with you. you'd played three rounds, and after losing two out of the three, you'd begged to play another round, upset with your chances of losing. megumi had refused, but surprisingly, had agreed to meet you half-way, offering a compromise.

"it's still about caterpillars and butterflies," said megumi, firmly, "but you can..." he sighed, looking as though it were physically hurting him to speak. "you can... make it less... real."

you beamed, clapping your hands excitedly and then making an attempt to grab the pencil from him once more. megumi immediately recoiled, pulling it away from you with a sharp gaze.

"but not too much," he said.

shortly after, you and megumi had started writing out your story. however, it hadn't gone as easy as you had initially expected: the road to completing the plot of your story was long and bumpy, you had been met with several obstacles along the way.

"moths can't be friends with butterflies," megumi said after you'd explained the introduction of a new character (the moth).

"you said i could make it how i want!" you argued, defensive. "well that just — that just — it means that you're just a liar then."

"says the biggest liar in this class —"

"MIIIIIIIISS!"

but that hadn't been the only issue:

"that's not how you spell 'caterpillar'," megumi commented, peering over your shoulder after he'd reluctantly handed the pencil over to you.

you looked down at your writing: cadrrpileer.

"that's not how you spell 'butterfly'."

again, you looked down at your writing: buddrflee.

"that's not how you spell moth."

once more, you looked down at your writing: moff.

irritated, you slammed the pencil down over the paper and slid the sheet over to megumi.

"well maybe you should write then!"

megumi made no complaints about taking the pencil.

"you were begging to write."

"yeah well — well — well i don't need a negative nancy next to me all them times i keep writing."

"that... made no sense."

"just write fushigo!"

"fushi-guro."

your assigned hour had been up, and when everyone had been seated on the carpet once more — rehearsing their lines in preparation to present — you and megumi read over the paper you had over and over again. really, you believed that you could recite the story without the paper, but megumi had been insistent on keeping the paper just in case.

he'd been very angry when you'd volunteered to go first together after miss turner had asked 'does anyone want to start us off?'.

so the two of you found yourself standing at the front of the class, clearing your throats in preparation. the classroom looked extremely big from where you'd been standing. having all eyes trained on you felt odd, but you were confident that your story would surprise them all.

"once upon a time, there was two caterpillars," you began, slowly.

"were," corrected megumi, shaking the sheet of paper. he'd turned to where miss turner was sitting at her desk. "miss she's not following the script."

miss turner’s brows had raised at megumi’s comment, visibly surprised. it was understandable, you concluded, for it was not as though the partners had been assigned — they were chosen. how had the two of you already fallen into a dark pit of issues?

"megumi, we can still continue with the story, it's fine," said miss turner, just as you'd stared at megumi with an affronted expression.

the rest of the class did not seem phased by the sudden intrusion, still patiently waiting for the story to continue seeing as it had barely even started yet.

"anyways… after one day, one of the caterpillars turned into a beautiful butterfly," you explained, your arms spread wide to suggest just how pretty you had imagined the butterfly to be.

"the other caterpillar is left behind —"

"yeah that caterpillar's slow for some reason," you interrupted, shrugging when megumi glared at you, waving the paper to remind you of the script.

you slapped the paper, holding back a laugh when megumi's glare had hardened (if possible).

he hastily took a step away from you as though you’d burned him and the paper in his hand. he cleared his throat; you could tell he was irritated.

"the caterpillar doesn't recognise the butterfly anymore," said megumi, sounding way too blunt for your liking.

there were gasps in the audience, and you watched as everyone's big eyes remained focused on you and megumi. you smiled toothily.

"but — like — later, the butterfly makes the caterpillar remember," you added, for once, following the script as megumi cautiously held the paper up for you to read from. "and they're still best friends. but then butterfly meets another butterfly, and they become best friends too!"

"the caterpillar feels left out and then meets the moth," said megumi, staring at the audience with a blank expression. "and they become friends even though that's not even real."

you turned to miss turner, feeling insulted that megumi had the audacity to snitch on you when he had basically done the same thing.

"miss, that wasn't in the script."

miss turner sighed, shaking her head at you with a smile. "guys."

"okay, okay!" you said. "megumi, say it."

"the caterpillar goes inside the cocoon," he said on your command, though he'd been resisting the urge to add 'the only real part'.

"afterwards, after a very, very, very, very, very long time," you said, attempting to create suspense, though you could feel megumi's eyes digging holes in your cheek to get you to hurry up, "the butterfly is not friends with the other butterfly anymore."

"the moth flies away and the caterpillar comes out but oh no it's not a caterpillar anymore," recited megumi, reading from the paper, monotoned. he looked up, making eye contact with the audience. "i didn't write that."

you snatched the paper from him, annoyed with his lack of effort in bringing emotion to the story.

"but oh no!" you read, enthusiasm in your voice as you expressed how disheartened the narrator should have been, "it's not a caterpillar anymore!"

"i just said that."

"porcupine!" you snapped. you handed him the paper again, smiling at the audience, unaware of the glare he was directing at you. "the caterpillar is now a butterfly, and the other butterfly doesn't re— re— rec—"

"recognise —"

"yeah that — the butterfly!" you finished off, grateful for megumi's intervention.

"and that's the end of the story," stated megumi.

you grinned. "the end!"

an awkward silence had followed after that. megumi had scrunched up the paper in his small fist, which had been the only noise in the room full of pin-drop silence. all of the kids had been staring at you, as if waiting for you to yell out 'just kidding!' and then continue the story, but it had become quite clear that that wouldn't happen, especially when the two of you glanced at miss turner to prove that you'd finished your lovely story.

"tha— that's the end?" asked miss turner, brown eyes darting from you to megumi and back again, expectantly.

you nodded.

"yep."

"yeah."

"but what happened to the butterflies?" someone had called out — it was noah fisher.

"nothing," you answered.

but it seemed that your classmates’ interest in your story had not been completely satisfied.

"did they not realise each other?" hayley bergmann called out, looking upset and curious.

"no," said megumi, straight-forward.

"why?" said christian de groot.

"because — because — that's just how it is," you shrugged.

"life is sad," commented megumi.

another silence had followed after that, till miss turner had finally come to the acceptance that your story truly had ended the way it did.

"okay, well... that's y/n and megumi's story, guys! round of applause!"

but the giant applause you'd been waiting for had not arrived. instead, the claps were slow, out of beat, and awkward, as if they were still in shock and denial about the ending of your story.

irked, your brows had furrowed deeply, your arms folded across your chest as you demanded them to "clap!".

and they did, at some point, and you'd stepped back again, standing side-by-side with megumi, a smile finally gracing your delicate features.

"look, porcupine! they're clapping for us!"

“it’s not like you barked at them to or anything,” grunted megumi, and as though he’d been slapped with knowledge, he glared at you. “and stop calling me that.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

your teachers did not believe you when you told them that you much preferred to stay indoors than go outside. you didn't understand how they'd come to that conclusion when even in the kindergarten, your time was always spent more by the bookshelf than outside in the playground. the only time that you’d actively seek to go outside for a change was when the bikes were free to use (though sometimes your impatience would force the other kids to simply give up and get off the bikes for you).

so when your mother had called you over at the sound of the doorbell (which you had promptly ignored for the sake of watching your favourite cartoons) you audibly groaned, but obediently switched the tv off and made your way over to the front door.

surprised, perplexed, yet pleased, you’d been met with the sight of megumi standing by the door across from your mother, a soccer ball in his hands and sporting the same stoic expression as per usual.

your mother looked very confused, almost as though megumi was not real — as though someone had been playing a sick trick on her. someone really wants to play with that kid? she’d thought in her head when megumi had asked if you were free to play in the neighbourhood.

you skipped past your mom, tightening the ribbon in your hair and smiling. you looked up at her, ready to inform her of the fact that you would stay in the area and not run off (even if you had the carnal desire to give her a good scare).

“i’m just gonna play with megumi okay?” you told her, and though it’d been posed as a question, you knew it was a statement.

you’d ignored the odd look she’d given both you and megumi, her eyes darting from you to him and back again.

“megumi?” said mom, gazing at the dark-haired boy with curiosity. she could have sworn that he had been the very child you’d been annoyed with not even a month ago.

you sighed, irritated.

“i won’t run away like last time mommy.”

megumi gave you a pointed look. you narrowed your eyes at him.

“it was on — it was on accident.” you turned to your (still very confused) mother. “i’ll just play with megumi now so yeah.”

but she looked as though she had missed several pages on a very interesting book she’d been reading. megumi spoke up not too long after.

“my mom said she’ll watch us.”

and whether that had been to comfort your own mother (the woman still kept the same expression on her face) or to hurry things up, you never knew, for you’d grown very impatient and simply couldn’t wait any longer. you stepped outside and waved goodbye to your mom, who raised her hand in what she probably thought was a wave back, though it looked like anything but.

that day, megumi’s mother had walked you back to your home just before sunset, your sour mood now dissipated.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

"a toast to the academic year of two-thousand-seven-to-eight being officially completed!"

clink!

the staff room meant for the kindergarten teachers had been packed. the teachers sat around a squared table, drinks in hand and food scattered around as though the queen were to arrive at any passing second. some teachers were standing up, others were sitting. all, however, had made a toast to the end of the academic year.

the main two teachers of both classes had sat together at the head of the stable: miss huckleberry and miss turner. every other teacher that had played the role as the assistant or substitute had been present too.

"can we talk about how this was probably the hardest year to manage?" said miss huckleberry, but only after taking a giant gulp of whatever sparkling drink she'd chosen to quench her thirst.

there were several murmurs of agreement. mr adams (who had been a consecutive substitute for miss huckleberry's class during september) had practically shouted out his agreement.

"you don't know how many times i had to deal with a child crying because they've got 'the booger touch'," miss huckleberry announced, sighing.

"what even is that?" one of the first aid nurses asked.

"i wish i knew."

a lot of the teachers laughed, speaking in hushed tones on their theories of what the 'booger touch' is and how it even started. the teacher assistant for miss huckleberry's class had spoken up during that time.

"wait, but, can i tell you what i found the most weirdest thing back in... i don't know... october-ish?"

she tucked a messy strand of her ginger hair behind her ears as the others looked up with mild interest.

"the oddest pair on this planet," she'd started, "megumi and y/n."

"no you mean y/n and megumi," laughed miss turner, who had finally voiced her own opinion seeing as the two kids had been in her class for the previous year; meanwhile there'd been a chorus of laughter and yells of agreement from all the other teachers.

"yep, for sure —"

"never thought i'd see them being friends —"

"two completely different people —"

"wait, wait! wait! was megumi the kid with that grumpy face twenty-four-seven?" asked mr jenkins, raising the hand that was holding his glass of champagne to emphasise his confusion.

the teachers nodded in response; he laughed boisterously.

"yeah i never saw that coming, that kid never wanted to play with anyone!"

miss turner smiled. "he was a little... anti-social."

"he was more than anti-social," interrupted miss huckleberry. "i had to deal with so many crying kids because of him."

"i don't know how he ended up being friends with y/n of all people," said ms begum, adjusting the green hijab on her head. she had been the substitute for miss turner's class whenever she'd been ill.

"right?" laughed mr adams.

miss huckleberry shook her head. "that kid was a menace."

"oh don't say that!" scolded miss turner, tapping miss huckleberry's arm firmly. "she was so bubbly and funny!"

"but it makes sense!" said the first aid nurse, picking up a chocolate cupcake and taking a small bite out of it.

several teachers disagreed, shaking their heads and voicing their thoughts.

"no, hear — hear me out!" she called out, struggling to speak with the cupcake. she swallowed and then continued. "y/n was always really loud and social and talkative and — you get the idea, but megumi wasn't. for lack of better word, y/n was a menace on her own but megumi wasn't exactly like that... and when they ended up being friends —"

"i see it now," hummed ms begum, pouring herself some of the apple juice. "does everyone remember the veera incident?"

she had barely completed the last syllable before the teachers had spoken over each other again, loud and excited. miss turner laughed, but miss huckleberry had rolled her eyes.

"do i remember? i had to deal with the mother!" she exclaimed, her drink now completely finished. she poured herself another full glass.

"before y/n got moved to your class," said the nurse, gesturing to miss turner, "any time veera came over, the kids were fine. megumi was fine."

"okay but let's be honest," said mr adams, slowly. "that veera child made me want to vomit —"

"william!"

"mr adams!"

"i can't deny it, i'm sorry! it is what it is!" mr adams spoke up over the teachers. "that child needed to learn hygiene first!”

although there were many shouts of protests, it could be heard how weak they'd sounded, almost as though the teachers wanted to disagree, but logically, they could not. picturing the child in question only made mr johnson actually gag.

"but who would you say is worse, y/n or megumi?" asked the teacher assistant. "y/n for sure."

"agreed."

"definitely y/n."

"but y/n's never actually made a kid cry —"

"yes she has!"

"but so has megumi."

"i think the point is," said mrs holly, placing a watermelon slice on her paper plate, "that they are definitely the oddest duo we've seen in teaching so far."

"i think they made the year so much more tiring," sighed miss huckleberry.

following her statement, there were sighs of agreement. some teachers had promptly disagreed, claiming that the duo had, in turn, made teaching a little more fun. miss turner had stated that you were a wonderful addition to her class. ever since you had joined, megumi was a little more spoken.

"but megumi," added mr johnson, pinching the bridge of his nose, "that child — is he even a child?"

mrs holly laughed at that.

"whatever do you mean?" she'd asked, biting back a smile despite her obvious curiosity.

"well we all know his favourite quote," chortled miss turner, actually heartily laughing when some of the teachers had quoted him simultaneously.

"'that's not even real'!"

they all burst into fits of chuckles and laughter, some teachers having lagged behind on the quote and finishing a little while after (mr adams had practically sang the quote).

mrs holly, still chuckling, referred back to her initial question.

"so what about that makes him unlike a regular child?"

"THE KID READS NON-FICTION BOOKS, come on!"

"and i can't remember a single time where we all sat together in a circle for story time and megumi didn't mutter 'that's not even real' — 'birds don't talk' — under his breath," said miss huckleberry, helping herself to some of the desserts placed on the silver platter. "menace."

"can confirm," nodded miss turner. "but i rarely ever had to actually scold him. y/n would do it for me."

"one thing about y/n," said ms begum, trying not to laugh mid-sentence, "was that she always kept megumi in check."

"no," said mr jenkins. "i'd argue that he kept her in check."

"nobody can keep y/n in check. not even her own mother," ms begum responded curtly.

"no, i think that was the issue," said mr adams thoughtfully. "they're both so different, they tried keeping each other in check. but then that always led to them fighting."

"fighting?"

"i thought they were friends?"

"again: odd duo."

mr adams shook his head. "they were weirdos. they'd argue for a second, and then be friends after."

miss turner nodded. "true. did i ever tell you guys about their book wars?"

"no —"

"no? —"

"i've seen it happen," said the first aid nurse. "they'd fight over their favourite books and then because they both have completely different tastes —"

"the only time i can say y/n acts like a normal child," miss huckleberry whispered, her voice hushed.

"— they'd end up actually fighting each other."

the teacher assistant rolled her eyes. "should we all take a guess on who hit who first?"

"y/n —"

"no question: y/n —"

"definitely y/n —"

"ally?" said mrs holly, asking for confirmation from your class teacher: miss turner nodded.

all the adults in the room sighed, laughed, and commented their thoughts: it was mainly not a surprise to either one of them that you chose to get physical first — you were rather 'passionate', as mr jenkins had put it.

"but you know, the surprising thing was," said miss turner, louder than the other voices in the room in order to grab everyone's undivided attention, "megumi seemed to always let her."

mr johnson frowned, walking around the staff room to get the cinnamon rolls on the farthest end of the table. "let her what?"

"hit him," answered miss turner, as each of their faces presented their shock:

miss huckleberry's brows had raised notably, ms begum had tilted her head with her brows furrowed in obvious uncertainty, and mr jenkins' face morphed into an expression that quite literally screamed 'not possible'. but it had not been them who had voiced their thoughts following the amazing revelation.

"i wholeheartedly believe you," said the nurse, nodding her head leisurely. at the sight of all the other unresponsive teachers (save for the murmuring between mr adams and mrs holly), the nurse had decided that an explanation was due. "back in january, you know james? the kid with the buzzcut?"

the other teachers nodded, some remained unacquainted with said boy yet waved their hands to have the nurse continue anyway.

"he hit megumi over something stupid — can't remember. but megumi didn't just let that slide: i had a sobbing james sitting in my office with a bruised up eye!"

"yes, i remember that," mumbled miss turner, a hand on her chin as she rested her elbow on the table; meanwhile the others were gasping and exchanging odd looks. "not my favourite megumi moment, to be fair."

"he could have done the same to y/n," shrugged the nurse. "i know he could."

"arguably, y/n is a scary girl," said mr john, lowly. "what — don't look at me like that — she terrified me sometimes! and i've seen the way she fought that other kid — what's his name —"

"clarke!" said miss huckleberry, "yes, it was clarke!"

"irrespective of who she's beaten up," tutted the nurse, rolling her grey eyes, "it's clear that megumi has always had the potential to do what he did to james, to her. he just never did."

"that's why i said she kept him in check," added ms begum, a finality in her tone as she gazed at mr jenkins with a raised brow.

"anyway, when y/n moved to your class, ally, i never bothered trying to get her back," said miss huckleberry, pushing her glass of whatever sparkling drink she'd chosen away from herself.

"i could tell," miss turner responded, smiling despite it all.

mr adams laughed. "i still don't know how she somehow managed to sneak back into your class and throw apple juice on —"

the very person you'd thrown apple juice on (and accused them of pissing themselves) had now looked up, alert and embarrassed. the teacher assistant who you had declared war on months prior now felt tears welling up in her eyes as she stood up, glaring at mr adams as everyone averted their gazes awkwardly.

"we all promised not to ever mention that again," she said, bottom lip wobbling as she walked around the table to get to the door despite all the teachers calling her back. she ignored them as she reached the door.

"oh, come on, poppy!"

"he didn't mean it like that —"

"yeah, come back!"

"why would you mention something like that?" she weeped, her face a dark shade of red that did much to conceal her dotted freckles. she opened the door, her body half-in and half-out. "why would you say that when you know it surrounds us all in negativity —"

but before mr adams could backtrack on his comment (and his laughter) the teacher assistant had already left the room.

they all sighed:

even after your departure, you had still managed to cause problems somehow.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

next chapter :)

notes: chapter 2 will take a little while to get out but i swear it will be released at some point!

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

477 notes · View notes

liillyliilly · 6 months ago

Text

I Need A Challenge

ushijima wakatoshi x reader words; 3804 synopsis; she writes a scathing review of ushijima's volleyball skills. how else should he respond if not by inviting her out to dinner?

She was tired of people like him. People who had no reason to be so stereotypically perfect. Everyone knows the type, comically good looking, is a prodigy in their one specific thing, acting so nonchalant that it ends up becoming their token personality trait. It was all so boring to her.

Which is why, as she was taking notes in the most recent Volleyball Nations League game, she wrote down some very harsh words for her analysis of star spiker Ushijima Wakatoshi. It was just the brutally honest truth of the world, she reasoned. Her editor, after reading the article she wrote at the game, almost dropped their jaw in shock at what she had written.

“This is really,” Editor Xhou sucked in some air through his teeth, “This is almost borderline libel material.”

She inspected her nails, shrugging as Xhou kept talking to her.

“I mean, you said that he is, and I quote from your own words, ‘Ushijima is the default setting for a volleyball player, there’s nothing too particularly unique’. You want me to let the paper publish this?” Xhou leans back into his office chair, pushing his glasses up and sighing.

“I write the truth, and the truth is that when Ushijima is on the court, you always know the exact plays he’ll make, the exact moves he’ll execute. The result is consistently the same. The games are too predictable when he plays.” She stands up from the seat opposite to Xhou.

Xhou sets the paper on his desk, checking that she really is okay with the article having her name attached to it.

A thumbs up is the only response she gives to her supervisor.

Xhou stamps the paper with his name, and faxes the documents to the coordinator putting together the sports magazine review for this issue. He wonders if the legal team is going to get involved again, he remembers the last player she reviewed, he was crushed and had to move to Alaska to play in a much smaller league. Xhou fully believes he’s going to get the magazine sued for letting her article fly.

Tendou finishes his squat set, hanging up the weights with a heave. Ushijima finishes his hundredth bicep curl, finally finishing his repetitions of this exercise.

Tendou pokes some fun, “I'm so sad for people without legs, they have to skip leg day.” He muses, trying to see what reaction or comment his best friend will make. Tendou twists and flexes in the full length mirrors lining the gym.

Ushijima only responds with a nod. He checks his phone, only to see that he’s received a little over four hundred notifications and counting. The beeping and noises start to pile up. Tendou peeks over Ushijima’s shoulder and gasps, he steals Ushijima’s phone away and immediately investigates what all the hustle and bustle could be related to.

“You should probably read this article, I think the writer has it out for your throat Wakatoshi.” Tendou grimaces while handing the phone back.

He skims the article, viewing the main talking points and major issues the author brings to light about his play style. His boring, everyday genius playstyle. He’s read criticisms of his volleyball skills before, but this one doesn’t seem too targeted solely about him, just using him as the mechanism to get a broader point across about the lack of challenges in volleyball recently. He chuckles at one of her comments, reading it aloud.

“Monster generation? I need a real challenge from these players, but all they’re giving me is platinum dreams without true passion and anger for the sport. I want them foaming at the mouth with new tricks, but I’m getting the same exact game over and over again.” Tendou cringes as Ushijima reads the words out loud. Ushijima stifles another chuckle.

Ushijima tucks his phone into his pocket, picking up his duffel bag. “I like her. She knows volleyball.”

It wasn’t just her comments, it was also the name of the author that Ushijima liked.

Tendou drops his water bottle in response to Ushijima’s behavior, stunned at the openness of amusement he has for the article and for the investment he has for this particular reporter.

Ushijima’s manager says that she’ll have a cease and desist letter issued to the paper for publishing such a slanderous piece. Ushijima proposes an entirely different solution.

She didn’t expect to be sitting at a restaurant, pencil and paper in hand, waiting for someone she just dragged through the mud to arrive so they could share a meal and an interview.

It was winter, and her reading glasses had fogged up slightly in the difference between the outdoors temperature and the warmth of the restaurant. The main features of the restaurant was the Western Style dining choices and decor, it reminded her almost of a hibachi place, but instead of Japanese food it was just a bunch of American and European dishes.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Ushijima pulls out his chair and settles into it, grabbing his glass of water so he can drink from it.

“High school seemed so long ago, but yes it is nice to see you again Wakatoshi. Sorry for the piece, your name just carries the right amount of importance to get my bigger points across.” She crosses her legs, setting her pencil behind her ear. The waiter comes around and takes their orders. He asks for the salmon, and she gets the house soup.

“No, I totally get it. But the statement about how people just continually eat up the single dish I serve? I thought you would’ve found a better analogy for my consistency on the court.” He just smiles at her, watching her move the pencil from behind her ear to her mouth so she could chew on it a little. One of her tells of when she was deeply thinking about how to respond to something.

Ushijima remembers all the stories she would write back in high school, ranging from sports analysis of Shiratorizawa clubs for her journalism extracurricular to getting paid to write love letters from person to person. She garnered enough money to pay for a new laptop and her entire wishlist of stationery items.

He remembers her lending him a pen once during class, it was a weightier metal pen. The ink was so black he was sure it was made of pure darkness. While he admired the pen she went into a rant talking about the pen itself, the quality of it and how it took forever to be delivered to her. They both got chastised by the teacher for having a side conversation and had to sit outside the classroom. But they ended up talking outside the classroom despite being told not to.

“Like you’d know what a good analogy looks like.” She hides her smirk behind a spoonful of soup. Ushijima appreciates her ability to be unapologetic, her honesty and bluntness matching his own linguistic traits.

They talk for three hours, about volleyball, life after high school, the article she wrote, about friends and the situations they found themselves in. Ushijima talks about Tendou and his chocolatier aspirations, she brings up Semi Eita’s new album that actually sounded truly alternative and unique.

He remembers her having a crush on Semi throughout high school. He didn’t really see why she would sit at their practices sometimes, just sighing wistfully, before freezing and turning flustered when Semi tried to make conversation like a normal person. But when Semi was seen to be a slight habitual complainer, she grew a distaste for him. Ushijima was sure that Semi was her longest crush, clocking in at around two months or so.

Ushijima did enjoy that she came to their practices sometimes, because then he could ask her about her pen collection and she would openly, loudly, and enthusiastically layer on every detail she could fit into her remarks. And she was someone who asked him about his favorite things, primarily volleyball but also about reading the advertisements in the Weekly Shonen Jump Magazine. Or about how good a runner’s high could feel sometimes.

Around her, he could share without fear of being misunderstood. She just accepted what she heard, and then analyzed it, taking her time and asking clarifying questions. He did his best to emulate her mannerisms and tact within their conversations, usually failing, but she didn’t mind.

She did openly declare an aversion for him throughout high school, that genius powerhouses should never be entertained with acknowledgement. What others considered harsh from her was almost like beaming encouragement for him. It was like she was telling him, if he didn’t continually improve and advance then the stagnation would leave him in the dust. A push in the right direction was more accurate of why she would say what she did about him.

He takes the bill from her, puts his gold debit card on the clipboard, and returns it to the waiter before she can even open her purse. Rolling her eyes, she sets some bills on the table and slides it over to him. Glaring at him until he accepts the cash and puts the bills into his wallet.

“Are you dating anyone right now?” Ushijima inquires while they walk down the street to get to the train station. The night air leaves a chill around the two of them. He had his hands tucked into his pockets, and she had her arms folded over her body.

Snow falls from the sky, catching the lights and making streaks of color burst in small flickers like fireflies. The piled up snow in the roads hadn’t yet been plowed thoroughly, and wasn’t sullied with pollution that made it yellow and black. The snow was much more like a blanket.

“Listen, I’m what people consider easy to love but hard to please. Most people say they felt like they were never enough for me when we were dating.” She bites on her bottom lip a little. It’s a confusing feeling to be unnerved by him, and she feels even more uneasy when she realizes that she’s speaking too openly. “I don’t intentionally degrade those I date, I just, I have high expectations. I don’t give many second chances.”

His breath comes out in puffs of white, winter nipping at his nose which makes him feel uncomfortable. He wonders if she’s as cold as him. He knew that she had high expectations, none of the boys at their high school got remotely close to being romantically involved with her. She wanted more than what most people could offer. She wanted someone who was as open as her.

She feels a little guilty about her article now. Maybe she pushed the words a little too much on his bad qualities. Ushijima really wasn’t that bad, he was just dependable and rational, which crafted his playstyle of being an ultimate pillar of strength for a team. Why shouldn’t a team go with the most reliable way of scoring points? Then she shooed the thought. If volleyball wanted to keep being popular, it needed to evolve.

“I liked your article a lot.” He offers, segwaying the conversation, knowing her thoughts better than she knew them. “Power goes far, but even then, there’s ceilings that need to be broken. There’s talents that need to be unearthed, planted, and then allowed to bloom.”

They sit on the bench under the covering for the train station. The screen shows that the train she needs to take will come in around ten minutes.

“Thanks. My editor was worried you were going to sue me for what I wrote.” She laughs a little, rubbing her hands against her thighs to build up some lingering heat in her hands and her body.

He passes her his gloves from his jacket pocket. Making a small hum he waves them in front of her. She accepts and embraces the black fleece covering her fingers.

“Oh, no, there’s no way I’d want you to be sued. But I do want you to add another part to the article.” He blows some air onto his hands, rubbing them together. She raises an eyebrow inquisitively, turning towards him on the bench.

Once he had finished reading her piece on Ushijima’s game, he went through and read all her other articles. He found out her favorite current player was actually Hinata Shouyou, the energetic innovator. She had written about his unique approach, due to natural athleticism. Also about his experience in Brazilian beach volleyball making his defense skills unique in the field of both Japanese volleyball and on a global scale. It was all about Hinata this, Hinata that. But could the ultimate decoy ever compare to the pillar of strength?

“What do you want me to change? I can’t make any promises.”

“Say I’m your number one, because I don’t do last place.” Ushijima lifted her chin up, looking right into her eyes. He inspects her face, the small miniscule motions her features display show that she’s listening, actively listening. “Did I ever mention that you’re the only one that has my attention?”

She really was. The only reporter he cared to give quotes to after big games, the only girl who he ever wondered if there was any possibility to develop a relationship with. He was hooked on every word she wrote, every interview she hosted online. She was in his world, but never overlapped her social circle with his for longer than an hour at best.

She swallows thickly, “I’m sorry to say this, but I really am unimpressed by your playstyle.”

He raises an eyebrow, sliding his hand from her chin to the side of her neck. He can feel the way her pulse is racing under her skin.

“We both know that’s not true.”

Her train arrived. She ducked under his hand and made her way onto the train. Before the sliding door closes, she motions him closer so she doesn't have to yell.

“Then show me your talents. I need a challenger for my first place.”

Tendou lies on his stomach on the floor, Ushijima is reviewing some plays written by his coach. He scans for any play that could show off his left hand spikes, or any play that he could try and improvise a receive if he wasn’t on the front row rotation. The plays are different from what he’s used to. But his coach said that they were all optional, and that Ushijima’s playstyle was perfectly fine as it was. But ‘fine as is’ doesn’t earn him any accolades in her book.

Tendou perks up, “I always felt like fighting had romantic undertones.” He references what Ushijima had told him about how the dinner with his reporter went last week.

“But I don’t want to fight her? I’d hardly call a slight disagreement a fight.” Ushijima sets aside the packet he had been studying.

He opens his phone and refreshes the webpage for the newspaper she worked for. When nothing pops up under her name, he goes to the calendar page to see if she’d be attending an upcoming game he’d be playing in. He sets his phone aside when he realizes she will in fact be in attendance.

“But you do want to fight for her ‘first place’ hottie player ranking.” Tendou kicks his feet in the air, crossing his feet and tapping the top of his head.

Ushijima stands up and goes to check his closet, seeing if he needs to get a tighter jersey for the upcoming game. “She never used the word ‘hottie’ when talking about her favorite player.”

“So you admit that you do want to be her favorite player?”

Ushijima finishes trying on the jersey over his long sleeve compression shirt, the jersey fitted better than he remembered. He tugs on the front of the uniform. Then what Tendou said clicks for him.

Ushijima blinks, “I do want to be her favorite player.” He doesn’t see why he would deny that observation. Being her favorite player would be the ideal situation for him.

Tendou rolls over onto his back and wiggles his pointer fingers in the air, “You want to be more than just her favorite player.” He sings the words in a teasing manner.

“Maybe I do.”

One time, near the end of high school, she was talking during lunch. Her friends were uninterested, wanting to discuss boys or homework instead of her critical worldview analysis. Her table was right next to the table that Ushijima and Tendou were sitting at, their volleyball friends already outside tossing around a ball.

Ushijima listened in, drinking his milk while Tendou ate chicken nuggets. When her voice got quieter, almost to the point of fading out entirely due to her slowly realizing her friends were not as interested in the conversation as she was, Ushijima leaned in subconsciously, trying to catch her words.

Tendou pinched Ushijima, telling him that if he wanted to listen to her, he should ask her to come sit with them. Ushijima froze. So Tendou invited her to come sit with them. Placing her lunch tray down, she ate a carrot, sensing Ushijima’s hesitance and Tendou’s eagerness.

It was Ushijima that spoke first, “Keep going. You remind me of someone. He said almost the same thing, about his worthless pride and not forgetting about it.”

She brightens. Continuing her dissection of the value of pride, she refers to Ushijima as a reference point for pride. Using him in her examples and demonstrations of her illustrative examples. Around the third time she says his family name, he makes another request.

“You can just call me Wakatoshi.”

Tendou drops his chicken nugget, but quickly regains his pace in eating the arms off the dinosaurs.

She says his name, once and then twice. Letting it settle onto her tongue and leave a trace of what a first name basis could mean. Pondering on that instead of her newest philosophy interest is quickly dropped. She only ever calls him by his name from then on.

Needless to say, the next game he plays at, she’s there, with her notepad and pen. Each receive, hit, serve, and toss is carefully recorded on her paper.

He doesn’t do anything too off the typical, but he does try new things his coach had mentioned. Pressuring an opponent’s highest scorer more, trying a few block kills when he’s in the right rotation, scoring some points off the tip of the blockers hands instead of cutting right through their attempts to defend. He’s more tired after this game than his last one. Yet, he had more fun this time around. His teammates seemed thrilled with the results of never having a gap less than five points.

After the game, before he goes to the locker room to debrief with the team and change into regular clothes, he stalks his way over to her. She’s talking to another reporter that had been sitting in the media section, but the other reporter just elbows her lightly when he notices Ushijima making an attempt to approach. The other man slowly walks away, bidding her a farewell.

She’s still sitting on the bench, cheekily covering her notes with her hand, and writing something down. When he takes a place next to her, he spreads his legs a little, expanding his presence and bumping their thighs into each other. She initially retracts from the touch, but relaxes into it.

He’s aware that his body is thinly sheened with sweat. It drips from the hair at his nape down his back and soaks into his player kit. She brings her notepad up to her face, looking at him over the spiral binding of the paper. Trying to hide her comments and analysis of the game, which had been overwhelmingly positive for Ushijima.

“What’s your professional opinion of the game?” He uses a finger to push down her notepad that was covering her nose. A streak of ink and pencil lead was across her cheek and nose. He brought his thumb up and wiped away the markings. At first swipe, nothing moved, so he slid his thumb over again with just a little more pressure.

“It was entertaining in a different sense. Rather than being solely athletic entertainment.” She licks her own thumb and finishes wiping away all the marks that she could feel him trying to get rid of. She misses a sliver on the apple of her cheek but he doesn’t say anything, enjoying the way that it makes her seem less intimidating and more adorable.

“Care to share with the class?”

“Well, when a certain player keeps trying to make eye contact during the game, when he should instead be invested in the game, it does pose some interesting investigative questions.”

At this point, Ushijima slid his hand to her thigh, asking her to explain further, “Such as?”

“When will he get up the nerve to ask her on a date? Will he take her for a ride in that brand new car he got? Does he need glasses from how frequently it seemed he scrutinized the audience in search of her?” She pauses, then continues, “And will he be mad if she writes something about how attentive the setter was during the game?”

“Soon, for the date. Most definitely a long car ride to the mountains. His vision is actually perfectly 20/20, he just wanted to make sure she was having a good time by observing her reactions. No comments for the setter, he’s a rookie, and much less attentive than an older, more experienced player.”

She hums a little in regards to his answers to her inquiries. Soon, she tugs on the back of his hand, the hand that was resting on her thigh. She bites the cap off her pen, waving the pen in the air, close enough to his skin for him to understand the point of what she was communicating.

The pen tickled the skin of his hand, but he liked the way she put one hand under his to make his hand rest flat so she could write her piece on his body. Capping the pen back up, she tucked it behind her ear.

Written on his hand was a series of numbers, along with a small doodle of a volleyball.

Getting up from her spot on the media bench, she leaves him with a short statement.

“I liked your response to my challenge. Keep making the Monster Generation bloom with each game Wakatoshi.” She halts for a moment, then turns back to him, “You can be my number one on those conditions. Blooming the Monsters and responding to my challenges.”

He’d return every challenge she gave him if it meant he could be hers.

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violetthistle1 · 2 months ago

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Excerpt 4 from Singing in the Dead of Night by Violet_Thistle on Ao3.

“Presents?” Sirius had completely forgotten that there would be presents.

“Of course there are presents, it’s your birthday!” Remus passed him a flat rectangular box.

“Ohh, what’s this?” Sirius asked as he shook the box.

“Open it and find out.” Remus smiled.

Sirius tore into the paper and opened the box to reveal an oddly shaped bright yellow raincoat, with a matching hat, far, far too small for him. Sirius gasped aloud. “You didn’t!”

“I did.”

“You said you wouldn’t walk around with a dog in clothes!” Sirius picked up the jacket and turned it over in his hands.

“Yeah, then I realized that I was being an arse.” Remus gave him a rueful grin.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60195556

#It's Sirius' birthday!#fanfic #wolfstar #remus lupin/sirius black #marauders #dignity be damned #remus lupin #playful banter #sirius black #fluff #harry potter

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blackcherryvelvet0909 · 1 year ago

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Scenic Globes (Jade x GN!Reader)

“And this is for you.”

Placed in your waiting hands was a small glass globe no bigger than a softball. There was an opening at the top, within it a thin layer of sand. You smiled and nodded as you said, “Thank you.”

Jade smiled in return, his own globe held delicately in his palm. His fingers were longer than yours, the tips brushing the opening of the glass. Inside was its own thin layer of sand: the foundation of the beach terrarium you both would soon create. You were honestly surprised Jade wanted you of all people to spend this time with him. However, you doubted Floyd would be interested in such things; Azul might be, but he was currently busy trying to strike up business in town. Trey was another possibility, but you knew that man always had his hands full aiding Riddle with Heartslabyul’s student management. There weren’t many other options for company, you realized.

Even so, you couldn’t help but ask, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you want me to make a terrarium with you? I thought you liked to spend time alone when it comes to nature?”

“I often do, yes,” Jade replied. Those heterochromic orbs eyed you fondly as he added, “However, it has been quite a while since we’ve spent some quality time together. As we are both free this morning, I’d say that opportunity has finally come.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” you said. You gave Jade a nervous smile and pointed out, “I actually have never made a terrarium before - you’ll have to guide me through it.”

“I suspected as much.” He placed his empty hand over his heart, “It would be my pleasure to teach you.”

Usually one would be nervous to go off with Jade alone, but unlike other people you’d come to like Jade’s eccentric attitude. Sure, he could be real ominous at times, with that smile that may or may not intend your doom - and yet, at least when it came to you, you never felt the danger. Floyd did point out to you once that Jade seemed a bit less menacing in your presence…you guessed that was a good sign. So, you threw caution to the wind and let Jade lead you away from the beach and into the lush green brush beyond.

***

The moment you stepped into that greenery, dusted with golden grains of sand, you both set to work. You crouched down on the ground and sifted through the flora to try and find something of interest to put in your globe. When you glanced back to see what Jade was doing, you saw his terrarium was already in progress. You felt a little frustrated at your lack of progress. “What exactly am I looking for?” you asked. “Like, what do I put in here?”

“Anything you want,” Jade answered simply.

Well, that certainly helped you. You watched Jade pluck some rocks from the ground and carefully place them into the glass. Every placement of every object and plant was perfectly calculated; he was constructing a scene before your very eyes. And yet, still, your own globe laid barren. You decided to voice another question, “How do you usually make yours?”

“Mm…” Jade thought it over for a moment, then said, “I often do one of two things: I will either have a mental vision of how I want the terrarium to appear, or I will simply let the inspiration come to me as I work.”

Yeah, that made sense. Unfortunately for you, nothing came to mind. You stared down at the small glass orb; the sand sloshed back and forth as you turned it from side to side, careful not to spill the grains. Your eyes scanned the area around you for a moment, then turned back to your globe. For once, you lacked any sort of creativity. You didn’t even notice Jade had come to kneel at your side until his voice was right next to your ear.

“If I may,” he offered you a pretty flower he held between his fingers, “I think this would be a fine start to your scene.”

So, he did notice your struggle. Ever the observant one, this eel. No wonder Azul chose him to be his vice housewarden…although, it was obvious why his brother was not picked instead. What a chaotic scenario that would have been. Your eyes took in the flower presented to you: it was small, barring four blush pink petals. You smiled as you took the flower delicately by the stem, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ as you placed it in your globe. The flower now lay prettily on the sand in the corner of the glass, almost like an umbrella.

“Is anything coming to mind?” Jade queried.

“I…I think so.” You had a general idea - not a grand one, though. “Do I have to fill the entire thing?”

“Not at all.” Jade held up his own globe for you to see, his index finger pointing at the space two inches from its opening. “It is actually recommended for you to leave some space, so the space does not become too crowded. I would say the limit for the length of any plant or object that be placed within this globe should stretch no further than here.”

You nodded as you took in his words, then asked, “Can I leave a space in the middle? Not an empty one, I mean - just one that doesn’t have much stuff in it?”

He glanced down at you and gave a small shake of his head. “If that is what you wish.”

Now an idea was placed in your head. It wouldn’t be much, but you think it’d look nice. After another uttered ‘thank you’, you set to work once again. You scoured the ground for what you needed for your vision: tiny rocks and pebbles and seashells, flowers, sprigs of green foliage, and one palm leaf. Jade helped you procure that last piece; unfortunately, you are not tall enough to reach such a height. You carefully arranged all of these items into your glass globe piece by piece. While there was a rearrangement or two in the process, your decoration went off without a hitch. When it was complete, you felt practically giddy. It looked so good!

“Jade, look!” You rose up from your spot on the ground and trotted over to where he stood in the shade of a palm tree. He glimpsed your figure as you approached from behind, just as he tucked something into his terrarium. You held up your own glass sphere for him to see. “I’m finished! What do you think?”

The glint of sharp teeth peeked through his smile as he spoke. “It looks wonderful - a very good job for your first terrarium.” He gazed into the globe for a few more seconds before he turned to face you. “Would you like to see mine?”

“Sure!” You leaned in close as he brought the terrarium up to your line of sight. A gasp released from your lips. It was…breathtaking! The way he organized the palm leaves, sprigs of fresh and wilted grass, pebbles and rocks, seashells, flowers, tiny sticks. You even noticed there was the tiniest puddle of water in the center; it looked like a mini oasis! It was…so much better than yours. You suddenly felt self-conscious, ashamed, but you forced a smile as you voiced your own praise.

“It looks amazing!” You lightly pressed the tip of your finger to point out the mini puddle of water. “How did you prevent the water from soaking into the sand?”

“I brought a little tool with me.” Jade lowered the globe so you could peer into it from the top opening. “You see that the sand is pressed down at the bottom of the water? That is because I placed a circular, plastic tray there. I poured a bit of water into the tray; it will prevent the sand from soaking it up.”

“That’s so cool!” Though you genuinely meant the compliment, the shame from your inexperience only grew. “You’re really talented, Jade.”

“Why, thank you, [Y/n].” He looked quite pleased with your statement, eyes closed for a moment in silent joy. When they opened again, his smile drooped into a different one as his eyebrows downturned. “But there is sadness in your eyes. Have I done something to offend you?”

Once again, very observant. You knew better than to lie, or to say it was nothing. Jade would find out one way or another - and he would be hurt that you’d keep something like that from him. So, with a sigh, your own smile faded into a frown, head lowered in a mix of shyness and shame. “N-No, you haven’t offended me. It’s just, well…I guess I wish I could be as good as you are, making terrariums, I mean. I know I just started, but,” you chuckled as you glanced down at the glass in your hand, “mine looks so barren compared to yours.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Those heterochromic eyes filled your vision again as Jade knelt before you. He carefully set his terrarium beside him before he came to clasp yours. “May I?” With a nod of your head, you let Jade take the glass orb and lift it between you two. “Yes, yours is not as detailed as mine,” Jade began, “but there is a beauty to minimalism. This scene you have created…is it perhaps a campsite on the beach?”

“How did you know?” You tilted your head to beside in bewilderment at Jade’s observation.

He let out a soft tiddle before he continued. “I recognize it from the fires we built along the beach the other night, when we were with our classmates. Though we did not sit at the same fire, I do recall there being a large umbrella beside yours. It was Riddle’s, was it not?”

“Yes.”

“Though it is a lighter shade of color, you have tucked the flower I gave you in the corner to represent that umbrella. In the center, where you’ve made a small circle of pebbles, that is to represent the campfire; I like how you placed a stem of red weed in the center.”

“Do you think I shortened it too much?” you asked.

“No.” Jade’s eyes flicked up to meet your gaze - within his were a softness you hadn’t noticed before. “It is the perfect size to mimic a fire.” He glanced back down at the globe, “I see a few shells peeking out of the sand as well.” He paused for a moment, then looked up and asked, “Might I ask what the palm leaf is to represent?”

“The large towel Trey had laid out for us,” you replied. “I tried to cut the leaf just enough to fit in the glass without it overpowering everything else.” Your worried gaze met his once again as you shyly admitted, “I know it doesn’t look too good.”

“On the contrary, I think it is a wonderful edition.” Jade squinted to get a closer look inside, nose almost brushed up against the glass. “You used the materials at your disposal to create a scene from memory. I believe it is a very accurate setting.” He offered the terrarium back to you and you took it. “I also think your decision to keep the backdrop clear allows for even further detail. You can simply hold it up to the sky - anything, really - and let it paint the picture in your mind.”

For the way he described it, you felt a lot better now. Still, compared to Jade’s, it was obvious who was the true professional. Your smile returned brighter than ever as Jade stood. “Thank you, Jade. I feel better about it now - and hey, like you said, I’m a beginner. I’ll be sure to get better with time!”

“Indeed, I believe you will.” Jade picked his terrarium up off the ground as he spoke again. “Does that mean you wish to do this again sometime?”

“I’d love to!” You walked with Jade as he began to lead you two back to the beach. “Next time, I’d like you to show me how you make yours. I want to see all the different things you can do.”

“You flatter me.” You glimpsed the lightest tint of pink creep up on the man’s cheeks. He now grinned from ear to ear, not too worried about showing his teeth to you. “I will be sure to teach you everything I know.” He paused in his speech, then that smile turned a tad mischievous. “Well…perhaps not everything. That sort of knowledge will cost you.”

“Cost me what?” You felt it might be a mistake to ask, but what the hell?

“Hmm, who knows?” Jade cooed with a small shrug of his lean, yet broad shoulders, still cloaked in that bright purple, tropical button-up. Those orbs had a dark look about them now, glinting with devious intent as he leaned down close to your face. “Do you wish to find out?~”

You didn’t know why, but you decided to meet the merman’s challenge with a smirk of your own. “What if I do?”

Jade hummed, “Intriguing. Though we are close, you are often hesitant to accept any plot I might have schemed.”

“Usually,” you raised your eyebrows as you stared back at him, “but I’m feeling lucky today.”

“Are you now?” Jade let out a small laugh, smile a bit gentler now. “Well…do call upon me when you are ready to begin your next lesson.”

You most certainly would.

#Twisted Wonderland: Beach Episode Mini Series #my work #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #twst #twst x reader #twst jade #jade leech #twst jade x reader #jade leech x reader #twst floyd #floyd leech #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #terrarium #teasing #playful banter

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echosofanotherlife · 3 days ago

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The Fake Bathroom Incident

The classroom buzzed with activity as Mackenzie tried to focus on the lesson, though her attention kept slipping to Rain. They had always shared a lighthearted, mischievous dynamic, and today was no different.

The classroom felt both chaotic and oddly structured. The fake kitchen area sat just beyond the mock bathroom, which wasn’t really a bathroom at all, but a prop for the other students learning to clean and maintain spaces. The room was an open space, no walls separating the areas, They were talking about something important, probably, but her mind kept wandering—it was Rain.

“Don’t use it, Rain,” Mackenzie whispered, panic creeping into her voice. “That’s not a real bathroom!”

Rain shot her a grin from across the room, seemingly unbothered by the warning. Mackenzie leaned in closer, lowering her voice again.

“I mean it! It’s just a prop for the other kids! Don’t use it!” she hissed.

Rain’s smirk only grew, teasing her. “Too late, I really need to go.”

Before Mackenzie could stop herself, the words slipped out louder than intended. “Oooooo! I’m gonna tell the teacher! I’m gonna tell the teacher on you!” She spun to face the front, turning to Miss B, already prepared to tattle.

But before she could say a word, Rain was in front of her, quick as a flash. Without thinking, Rain gave her a light but firm slap—startling but not harsh. It was more of a reflex, a quick reaction to the playful tension in the air.

The sting was brief, but Mackenzie’s response wasn’t anger. She burst into laughter, unable to hold it in. Her hand instinctively touched her cheek, still shocked, but not upset. Rain’s face softened with instant regret, her voice flustered.

“I’m so sorry, Mack. I didn’t mean to,” she said, reaching for her friend’s face as if to make amends.

But Mackenzie only laughed harder, shaking her head. “It’s fine, Rain. Really.” She wiped a tear from her eye, still smiling. “I won’t forget this, though.”

Their laughter filled the room, light and easy. It wasn’t about the slap, not really. It was just a moment—a reminder of how well they understood each other. Rain’s reaction, even in its surprise, was an expression of something more—a shared connection that ran deeper than words. And Mackenzie wouldn’t have traded that for anything.

#unspoken #soul sister #playful banter #character development #real life stories #writing community #short story #best friends

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byllsbytch · 9 months ago

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Bill Brings Goodies

Loosely based off of Episode 41 "Shopping Madness With Bill" (Tokio Hotel TV)

Overview: While touring, Bill goes to the shops to satisfy his cravings, meanwhile there is playful banter on the bus with the other 3 boys -Tom helps himself to Bills candy.

(Fluff for the Tom girlies)

1092 words

It was only day 5 of touring around Germany with the boys and you sat on the tour bus. You guys were departing Hamburg after having a great night with the concert and afterparty. You guys were off towards Bremen, it was only a 2hr drive - not like the past trips you guys just made. You sat between Georg and Gustav still hungover from last nights shenanigans holding your head in your hands. Gustav sat there drumming into your thigh like a zombie, fixated on the floor.

"Alright Motherfuckers!" Bill sang ripping off his glasses and flinging open the door to his room, Gustav flinched and stopped drumming on you leg - startled at Bill's presence

"There's a supermarket nearby, you guys after anything, I really want an omelette or eggs for breakfast."

You lifted you head and looked at Bill who's eyes were evident of last night. He had quite the bit of energy to say he wasn't a morning person, oh wait, it wasn't morning you realised, it was 6pm!

"I'll come, don't know how you're gonna get an omelette from the supermarket though" you say struggling to lift your body from the chair "Scheisse" you mumble under your breath, a word you'd just learnt from the boys.

Bill rolled his eyes "I'll cook it here, I'm gonna buy eggs."

"Yeah no not happening" said Georg, "Last time you used the stove in here your nearly gassed everyone out and set the bus on fire."

Bill flung his head back sighing loudly. He then stomped over to Gustav and got on his knees begging.

"Can you pretty please make me an omelette Gustav?" He sooked. Gustav looked at him suspiciously.

"Please Gustav, you're the best cook here." Gustav thought for a extra second then shook his head too scared to say the actual word no.

Bill jumped up on his feet and crossed his arms, sucking in his lips and at that blinked a long blink.

Everyone who sat in the same cabin - staff and band members braced themselves for Bill's wraith but instead he simply turned on one foot and helped himself out the door.

He slammed the door behind him and Tom came out of his room

"Why the noise?" He mumbled rubbing his eyes.

"Gustav wouldn't make Bill a omelette." Georg replied.

"Ayi' He said " Where were you Y/N?" He asked focused on you, still half asleep.

"I left so I didn't wake you, once I wake up I can't get back to sleep."

"Ugh nein!" He replied flicking his hand. "You won't wake this beast." He grinned.

"Well she appeared to have done so the other night" Gustav scoffs turning his head between you both. You felt you face grow hot.

"Oh," was all you could say.

"Oh" Gustav and Georg mocked

"Sorry, you know we cant help it." Tom Boasted shrugging his shoulders.

"Anyways, spewing we missed our morning cuddles though" Tom said.

"I'm sorry like I said I didn't want to wake you"

"Well that's fine we'll have to make up for cuddle time later" he winked.

"And don't worry about sitting out here all cold and near these weirdos just because you don't want to wake me up, trust me you won't - you should know this by now"

You sighed shaking your head sarcastically "Awe the shit I do for you."

A little while later, Bill came back in with his shopping basket. "So, I got some strong toilet paper for you Georg, skittles for Tom, smellies for the toilet and oh - look all this American candy just pumped with chemicals oh so colourful."

You smiled at Bill's haul, " Bill is like a mother - he bought something for everyone"

"How are you getting American candy?" Georg questioned " I mean since were obviously in Germany and all."

"Oh there's some international store down the road." Bill replied his focus still fixated on all the goodies in the bag.

"Well thanks Bill, for my strong toilet paper." Georg said holding up the 20 rolls.

"Yeah I got the strong ones instead of the soft toilet paper just for your monster shits." he smiled then dove his face back into the bags.

"Thankyou for being so appreciative unlike these bitches."

Gustav walked out the bathroom and sped past everyone smearing his finger under bills nose as he ran.

"Where's your eggs?" he mocked

"Ahhh fuck you!" he cried reaching for his nose trying to immediately wipe off the smell.

Tom and Georg laughed as Gustav locked himself in the room; Bill unable to get him.

Tom then reached into Bill's goodie bag from the shops and grabbed out his skittles and something else shoving it in his pocket. A packet of "strawberry rings' fell out onto the floor and tom picked up the lollies inspecting them.

He took a seat and opened up the gummy rings staring at them intently. You focused on him and he continued to stare curiously at the gummies bringing one to his mouth, he stuck his tongue into the ring and started going to town on it - not realising your eyes, he sat stuck on the same ring sticking his tongue in and out of the candy.

You found yourself with a confused look on your face and looked around to see if anyone else was watching his behaviour. He eventually shoved the whole thing in his mouth and licked the corners of his mouth, removing all the stickiness from the lolly. He then proceeded to pick another ring out of the bag and put his fingers on the inside of the ring stretching it as far as he could and then placed it over his crotch.

"You are not using that as a cock ring" Bill declared rolling his eyes, at which tom shot his head up and looked Bill straight in the eye, quickly shoving the gummy in his mouth.

"Nein!" He shook his head "nein, nein" he put his head down trying to hide his grin.

He then moved his eyes back at bill's in embarrassment because he knew what he was doing then eventually fully lifted his head and shot his eyes towards me.

He put his hand in his pocket "Do you want a kiss?" he asked

"Not really, not after seeing what you did to that poor strawberry ring" you playfully lied, you were always down for one of Tom's kisses.

"Oh - oh well your loss" he smirks pulling out Hershey kisses.

You raised your eyebrows at him.

"Ugh come here!" you say pulling him by his baggy shirt planting a kiss on the charming boy's lips.

A/N: AHHHH!!! First little story thing idk what to call it on my tumblr page... How'd I go? Feel free to send requests!

#tom kaulitz #tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #touring #fluff #fanfic #playful banter #joking

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87zoolemons · 2 months ago

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Final Mark is a retelling of game’s main storyline but from ND-5’s perspective, and explores his evolving wants and desires as he becomes more involved with Kay and her heist crew. All in-game moments and dialogue are interwoven with new, original content to give a better idea of what life is like for an indentured enforcer droid developing feelings.

#nd 5 #star wars #star wars outlaws #kay vess #fanfic #playful banter #action #drama #complicated feelings #Mythical tropes #Clone wars ptsd #droid life #nd-5 #kayd5

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hyuge · 1 year ago

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Oddities and Curiosities

“What, pray tell, do you think you’re doing in here?” Kuya clicked his tongue at the uninvited guest in his home.

Blade spun on his heel with one of Kuya’s knickknacks in hand. A bright smile flashed across his face, exposing his pointed teeth, and he held the palm-sized orb up into the light. “Ku-Ku! This is very pretty. I like how it sparkles in the light.”

Kuya snapped his fingers and the glass ball disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke, reappearing in Kuya’s hand. “What are you doing in my home? Touching my things?”

“Ah.” Blade glanced out the window. “I was helping Darling in the forest, and we got separated. I thought maybe he wandered over here since we weren’t too far away.”

Kuya followed his gaze to the window. The flowers were in bloom around his small home and their fragrant aroma wafted in through the opening. “As you can see, he didn’t come here. You should probably go find the young master before he inevitably hurts himself again. He always seems to get into trouble when unsupervised.”

“Ku-Ku cares about Darling~ a lot!” Blade clapped his hands together. “You probably already know where he is too!”

Kuya huffed and folded his arms across his chest. “He’s in the village. No one steps into my territory without my knowledge.”

“I knew it!” Blade’s smile grew impossibly wider, and he crossed the room in two strides. He slipped his arm around Kuya’s, linking them together and gave a gentle tug. “Let’s go find Darlingtogether!”

“Why would I want to do that?” Kuya cocked a brow and moved to pull his arm free, but Blade’s grip was firm.

“Because Ku-Ku always wants to bully Darling, and Darling is cute when he gets embarrassed.”

Kuya tossed the orb onto his bed. The insides shimmered with a glittering cloud of turquoise smoke. Blade eyed it before dragging Kuya out of the cabin.

“Ku-Ku really does have such interesting odds and ends. There was a strange essence coming from that ball.”

“If you care about it that much, maybe I’ll show you what it does next time. Though, you’ll have to earn it.”

“Oh?” Blade’s curiosity was piqued. “Does it hurt?”

“It does indeed.”

“Exciting!”

Kuya shook his head. The android was an anomaly he would never begin to understand. Blade was always eager to please, just like some of the rest of them, but in a more innocent manner. How Eiden managed to turn a certified killing machine into such a gentle creature was beyond him.

Young Master’s sex skills are average at best. That couldn’t have been what did the trick, Kuya thought to himself as they walked. He could have made it to the village faster on his own with his magic, but Blade insisted on hanging on him.

“Ku-Ku’s thinking dirty thoughts~.”

Blade’s sing-song voice pulled him back and Kuya rolled his eyes. “I want to test something later.”

“Sure thing!”

A gift for Lee and @tellmewhatyouc.

You can also read it on AO3.

#fanfiction #fanfic #nu carnival #nucarnival #blade nu carnival #nu carnival kuya #kuya nu carnival #nu carnival blade #fluff #kulade #curious kuya #getting together (sort of)#canon compliant #playful banter #12 Days of Ficmas

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shadowphoenixrider · 6 months ago

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Symbolism

(It starts off casual, as it always does. A little bit of flirting in the rec room, learning a little bit more about one another. However, there's something else going on here, and things might turn serious...one way or another.)

"Oh hey! Fancy meeting a gorgeous man like you here!" I grinned, crossing my arms over the back of the couch as I looked down at Gambit, who had stretched his long, lean body along its length. He quirked an eyebrow up at me, distracted briefly from the deck of cards in his hands.

"An' what brings a beautiful woman like yourself to dese parts, petite?" He drawled, cards fluttering between his nimble fingers and a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Ugh, gross!" Came Jubilee's voice from somewhere else in the room. "I'm leaving if you two are gonna start that!" I rolled my eyes, letting the teen go.

"Charming, isn't she?" I commented, raising my own eyebrow.

Gambit chuckled deeply.

"Ah, she young, chère." He smiled fondly after her. "One of dese days someone'll catch her eye and den we never hear de end of it."

"And you and Logan'll make sure they treat her right?" I grinned.

"Of course." Gambit grinned back. "But Wolverine protective enough for de both of us." A deft flick of his thumb tossed a card up towards me, only narrowly missing my nose. "Enough about her, though." His grin became sly, knowing. "Sounded like you were lookin' for me, mon amie."

"Might have been." I leaned over towards him. "Know any other handsome Cajuns around these parts?"

As I did so, my silver ankh necklace tumbled out of my shirt collar, now hanging free and glinting in the light. His eyes were immediately drawn to it.

"Just Gambit." He replied, before reaching up carefully, delicately balancing the bottom of the symbol on the tip of his finger. "Hmm. Dis be an ankh, right? Ancient Egyptian?"

"Yeah." I nodded, watching him. "Represents 'life', and sometimes 'rebirth'." Gambit's thumb brushed over its horizontal line, the symbol reflecting in his dark eyes. He didn't say anything for a good long moment.

"Life...Perfect symbol for a healer like yaself." Said Gambit softly, letting it swing away. His gaze lifted to me, strangely tender.

"I guess so." I smiled wryly. "Hadn't really thought about it that way." I caught the pendant, looking at it anew. "To be honest, I think I was more drawn to it being a symbol of rebirth."

"Hmm?" He hummed, returning to his card shuffling.

"Yeah. I seem to identify with that motif, with that of the phoenix. It feels like I undergo a rebirth of a sorts through my life. My old life left in ashes as I rise into a new one." I explained, before lifting a shoulder. "The fact the phoenix is a bird made of fire is also an attraction. I kinda like both."

Gambit chuckled.

"Hah, we seen de real Phoenix in action, mon amie. Real powerful, literal force o' nature. Not great when she mad at ya." He tilted his head to the side, looking thoughtful. "You spoke to Jean 'bout it? She could tell ya 'bout her better den anyone, since de Phoenix lived in her body a good while."

"She did tell me the abridged story, yeah." I winced. "I don't envy you guys having to go up against Dark Phoenix."

"No, dat weren't a fun time. 'Specially for Cyclops." Gambit's brows furrowed. "We were lucky it ended like it did. Coulda gone badly wrong."

"Yeah." I nodded. "Definitely..."

A memory rose up in my head; one from when Jean and I had been testing my powers. One disadvantage of my powers was my inability to communicate with the person whose body I entered, since I was effectively shut off from the outside world; that was unless I tapped into the person's senses. I also lacked a way to respond unless I co-opted the person's faculties through sign language or using their own speech - essentially causing a person to talk to themself.

The Professor had hypothesized that telepathy would be the way around it, and Jean had kindly allowed me to test the theory on her.

I remembered the odd feeling of being inside a telepath; the way her powers seemed to flow around me like mist, both tangible and yet not. We found it worked quite well - just by thinking I could easily communicate with her, as simple as normal conversation.

Yet, before I'd left, I remembered feeling something warm on the tip of my...well, they wouldn't have been fingertips, but the edge of my awareness. It had been buried deep, and so different to the way Jean's powers had felt that my curiosity had drawn me to it. I should have learned after the incident that got me into the X-Mansion in the first place, but I guess old habits die hard.

I had reached out to it carefully, not wanting to disturb something important, and it seemed to reach out to me as well, like it too was curious. Next thing I knew was a sharp, static shock, and I immediately pulled back - I'm foolishly curious, but I'm not stupid, and that was definitely a signal to piss off if ever I felt one. Jean asked if I was okay, and I told her I was fine, not wanting to admit I was poking about in places I probably wasn't meant to.

That said, I had felt strangely...warm after that shock, even after I returned to my body. It faded soon after though, so I'd thought nothing of it - maybe it'd just been a mental defence mechanism or something. I didn't mess with a mutant's powers for a reason, so maybe I'd just accidentally crossed a line.

Now though...I wondered if I'd accidentally found something else...

"Shadow?" Gambit's voice broke me from my thoughts, his thick eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted to the side. "Doin' okay?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah." I blinked hard, running a hand through my hair. "Just thinking."

One of his dark eyebrows lifted.

"Anythin' you wanna share with Gambit?" He asked, kindly.

I opened my mouth, before thinking better of it. No use potentially worrying people about something that had happened weeks ago.

"No. Just flights of fancy, nothing interesting." I replied, shaking my head.

"Gambit would be the judge of dat, petite." Was his breezy response. "But if ya don't wanna say, then no worries. Gambit always here if ya change ya mind." He smiled.

"I appreciate it." I smiled back.

In the comfortable silence that settled around us, I let my gaze wander down Gambit's reclined form, admiring him. My eyes were drawn to his muscled stomach, exposed by his hot pink crop top, following the valleys of his hips to his waistband and the dustings of dark hair peeking just above it. Corded muscle rippled and shifted as he moved his leg, a mundane yet elegant motion that briefly entranced me.

"My eyes are up here, chère." He teased, and heat flared intensely into my face.

"Hey, you can't put yourself on display like this, and then get mad when I look!" I cried, trying to shoot a glare at him. Gambit's grin was wide and utterly unrepentant.

"Who said Gambit were mad?" He purred, raising himself upright so we were almost eye-to-eye. "Didn't he tell you that he don't mind you lookin'...?"

My lower back shivered at the dark gleam in his black and red eyes, and the promise in his voice. We were alone right now, and it was very, very tempting to close the gap, to indulge. I still played back our first kisses in the forest, at the lake- we could make this our third.

"You're a tease, Cajun." I replied instead, slowly straightening myself up. A hot pulse went straight to the peak of my thighs when Gambit lifted his chin to follow me, as if his gaze was locked to mine.

"Takes one to know one, chère." Was his response; I swore he sounded breathier than before.

"Oh? And where's your proof of that?" I asked, stepping closer, looming over him - Gambit had to tilt his head back to follow me, exposing his throat. His lips parted in a smile.

"You know what you do to me, Shadow." Nope, that breathy undertone was not my imagination. Excitement tingled through me, stirring hunger and desire within. "Can't keep my eyes off you in de Danger Room when ya wearin' dat suit."

"And how do you think I feel when I see you in your gear, hmm?" I hummed, arching an eyebrow. A smile played on my lips as I saw his pupils dilate. "I can't decide if that coat of yours makes it better or worse. Better in that you're not always on display, or worse in that I can't stop thinking about what's under it..."

"Gambit could always give you a private show, chère." He purred, resting his arm on the back of the couch. "Just you an' Gambit...An' maybe," he grinned, "we could find out what's under your suit too."

That was the moment I felt his hand grab my ass and squeeze. I gasped, igniting fire in my chest and between my thighs. I grasped the back of the couch to keep my balance, Gambit grinning triumphantly up at me.

"Fuck, Gambit!" I breathed. "Anyone could walk in here!"

"But we not doin' anythin', chère." He smirked smugly. "You jus' standin' here talkin' to Gambit, and Gambit just got his arm hangin' over de couch..." Said arm's hand decided to trace teasingly down the curve of my backside and upper thigh, and I couldn't resist the shiver that resulted. "Everythin's all fine here, mon amie..."

I shook my head, unable to stop the smile that stretched across my lips.

"Okay, so you know when I called you a 'tease'? Maybe I should have added 'troublemaker' to that."

"An' yet ya still here, chère..." Gambit crooned, fingers tracing all the way up my leg again. "Gambit thinks ya like a little trouble, non?"

I smirked, lowering my head towards him and revelling in his excited grin.

"Well, there is one certain scoundrel I have a particular liking for..." I purred, sliding a finger under his stubbled chin. My stomach dropped with a shock of white-hot heat when I saw Gambit's eyes lid, a blissful look flickering over his features.

"Who'd dat be?" Gambit asked, his voice sounding a little dazed, even with the grin tugging at the corners of his lips. I couldn't resist a giggle, moving closer, and I swore he shivered.

"Let me give you a hint, Cajun..." I whispered against his parted lips, before I grabbed the back of his head and captured his lips in mine.

Gambit yielded to me, letting me deepen the kiss and take control, and my desire flared hot and hungry. It took me a little by surprise; both his submission and my sudden desire to devour him. But the breathy little gasp he made at the back of his throat sharpened all my thoughts down to him and him alone.

I was rusty at this 'dance', but Gambit didn't seem to mind, picking up my slack eagerly. His hand squeezed my ass again, and I couldn't restrain the moan into his mouth. The switch was immediate - Gambit's tongue and lips getting more pushy, needy, his arm pressing me tightly against the back of the couch. If it wasn't between us, he probably would have pulled me down on top of him. That thought sent sparks flying within me, even if it crystallised my last remaining logical thought of 'we're in the rec room, someone's going to walk in any second!'

We broke for air, breathing hard - Gambit's eyes were almost pure midnight, his irises only a thin ring of red, and a flush had risen in his face. And probably mine too, considering how hot I felt!

Neither of us said anything for a second, both a little breathless and dazed by what had just happened. And then, for once, it was me who spoke first:

"Enough of a hint for you?"

His lips tugged up into an airy smile.

"Gambit got your message, chère," he said breathily. "Loud an' clear. Although," that smile became a mischievous grin, "Gambit wouldn't mind hearin' it again. Jus' to make sure."

I chuckled, shaking my head. This man was incorrigible, and something about it delighted me, deep down.

"You're such a twat." Was my affectionate reply, and my heart skipped a beat at the Cajun's gleeful laugh.

"Come now chère, Gambit jus' wants to make sure!" He crooned, gazing up at me from under his eyelashes. I quickly defused that attempt by ruffling his wild hair. "Hey!"

"I know what you're up to, and no." I raised an eyebrow at him, my grin stretching from ear to ear. "As much as I'd love to continue this with you, not here. Not where anyone could walk in. Unless you want to get interrupted again?"

"Ya have a point." Gambit smoothed back his hair, despite the insistence of a couple of long curls in falling back over his face. "Another time, chère?"

"Sure." I smiled, nodding, before deciding to indulge my curiosity. "Found a new name for me?"

"Hmm?" He lifted his eyebrows.

"You keep calling me 'chère'. That a new nickname?"

Gambit blinked at me, the tops of his cheeks starting to darken. That...wasn't the reaction I expected.

"It...Yeah," he said slowly, like a cat feeling an unstable surface. "New name. Ya like it?"

"Yeah." I smiled, confused as to his sudden caution. "It's nice."

"There ya are, sugah!" Rogue's voice made me look up, seeing her leaning in the doorway with her arms folded. "Been lookin' all over for ya."

"Sorry, I got distracted!" I offered her an apologetic half smile as she chuckled, ignoring the raised eyebrow from the Cajun below me. "What do you need me for?"

"Beast's gotta new theory 'bout your powers an' mine, wants to give 'em another go," she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"You know I'm always down to try if you are." I said, walking from around the couch to her. "But only if you want to."

Rogue looked unsure for a moment, before she nodded.

"Won't know until we try, sugah." She glanced back into the room, opening her mouth, before frowning. "Dangit, how'd he do that?"

I looked over my shoulder - Gambit had vanished, the slight wrinkled depression in the couch the only sign he'd been there.

"Huh. Guess that's an old thief's trick." I commented. "Reminds me of my brother - his exact power is teleporting like that, and it never stops being spooky to see him just gone."

"Really? Huh. Sounds a little like Nightcrawler." Rogue said, taking about two steps with me before she stopped. "Wait, ya never mentioned a brother before, sugah."

I chuckled weakly.

"Oh, yeah...He's my adopted brother - by choice." I elaborated. "I met him along with a good group of friends not long after I broke up with Tom, and we became close." I scratched the back of my neck. "We tend to have separate lives most of the time, so it must have slipped my mind."

"Does he know you're here with us?" She asked.

"Yeees, sort of. I told him about what happened with the Friends of Humanity thug and that I was under protection, but couldn't exactly tell him where and who, and he was fine with it." I explained. "I've been checking in, though I'm expecting at some point he's gonna turn up here looking for me."

"You're gonna have to tell the Professor before Wolverine finds him and things get ugly." Rogue pointed out, as we started walking again.

"Yeah. He can hold his own better than me, but against Logan he's gonna have a bad time." I winced at the thought. "His teleportation is Quantum Locked - basically means he can't teleport if he's being watched, and although he can teleport to any place he imagines, he can only appear if no-one or nothing is looking at it. So he'd be a bit stuffed."

"A bit?" She raised an eyebrow, smile playing on her lips.

"Okay, a lot stuffed then. Sue me for trying to give him a chance!" I pouted, delighted when she chuckled. "But you're right; please remind me to go have a chat with Xavier after this thing with Hank."

"Sure, sugah."

There was a calm moment between us, nodding to Storm as we passed her in the hall.

"Hey, Rogue?" I asked.

"Yes, sugah?"

"You've known Remy longer than I have - is 'chère' a nickname? He's started calling me that of recent."

"Oh no, sugah. That's not a nickname," she said, shaking her head. "It means Remy's sweet on you."

I blinked.

"Oh." I felt myself flush. "Well, uh, that makes sense, I guess. Does it mean anything in particular?"

"Something like 'dear'." She frowned thoughtfully. "You alright with it?"

"O-Oh yeah, I am, it's very sweet." My face was getting hotter. "I was wondering since he's not really done that with me before..."

Rogue smiled.

"Remy's full of surprises, sugah. Like a greased up racoon, every time you think you got him pinned, he'll find a new way to turn the tables on ya."

I chuckled. My mind reminded me of our indiscretions several minutes ago, and I quickly silenced it.

"That's true! I fear when my weapons training becomes the real deal - he's gonna have me disarmed in about five seconds."

"Aw, don't sell yaself short, sugah, you've been doin' really well." Rogue grinned. "It was a great idea to give you a sword, you seem to take to it!"

"Yeah! I'm really glad he convinced me to try one, really makes me feel like I'm actually doing something than just sitting in the back twiddling my thumbs." I smiled ruefully.

She rested a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, Shadow, you're important to the team. More than just bein' able to heal us."

"I still can't heal you." I said quietly, laying my hand on top of her gloved one. "The one person who probably needs it the most, and I just..." I sighed, shoulders slumping. "I can't help but feel a failure."

"Nope, not havin' this, sugah." Rogue shook her head. "Ah really appreciate ya tryin' so hard to find a way for me, ah really do, but jus' because you can't don't mean everythin' else you do is second best. An' besides, you don't need to be on the field with us to be helpin'. It's always good to have someone back at the mansion checkin' up on things an' makin' sure Jubilee stays outta trouble."

"Oh, I dunno about that last one." I chuckled weakly. "That girl is a force of nature."

"But you get me, right? Sure, bein' able to fight is good, an' havin' someone to heal us in the thick of it would definitely be useful. But ya also good here. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Even myself?"

"Especially yourself." Rogue folded her arms, smiling at me. "Ah can go get the others, if you want them tell you that you're fine."

"No, no...I understand." I smiled bashfully. "Thank you, Rogue. It's just...surrounded by you all, so strong and amazing...It's easy to feel second best, ya know?"

"Sure. We all feel like that sometimes." She nodded. "But what matters is that we're a team. Ah can't do the things Beast does. And Beast can't do what ah do. We're here to cover for each other, not be the best at everythin'."

"Yeah..." I nodded slowly. "Yeah. You're right." I took a deep, calming breath. "One day I'll believe you, I hope."

Rogue just smiled warmly.

"Ya will, sugah. Everythin' comes around eventually. Sometimes it's just a matter of how long it takes."

#sprs writing #x men #gambit #oc/canon #remy lebeau #x men rogue #self insert #self ship #slow burn #comfort #playful banter #flirting #I blame Gambit for how spicy this got #as always Rogue always comes to Gambit's rescue #self insert x canon #self insert/canon #x men gambit #x men oc: shadow #otp: heart of the cards

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thehusbandoden · 2 years ago

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So this is part of a fic that's currently over 10k words.. I have close to no motivation to finish it rn, but thought I'd post a teeny bit of banter just because. This is Hawks btw, and they're just friends here.

"Okay.. just don't get too attached.. I'm unpredictable." I smiled as Hawks made his way onto my bed, making sure to leave a comfortable amount of distance between us. As we kept eye contact for a moment I couldn't help myself.

"H-Hawks..." "Yes.." "I think it's too late for that.." Hawks looked at me strangely before smirking. As I stared at him he gave me his normal, warm smile before patting my head. "I guess I'll have to stick around then."

Grinning widely I nodded enthusiastically, causing Hawks to chuckle. "Do you realize how cute you are?" "C-cute!? I'm not cute!" My burning cheeks just grew hotter at Hawks's laughter, the delightful noise making me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"You know you're pretty cute too.. right?" Hawks looked at me, utterly baffled. "No no no. I am definitely not cute. Hot, breathtaking, drop dead good looking, and sexy I can take. But cute? No!" I couldn't help but burst out into laughter at Hawks's flushed cheeks as he tried -and failed- to hide how flustered he was over my simple yet meaningful comment.

"You may be all that, but before anything else you are utterly adorable. " "H-how!?" "When you stutter when you get flustered, how your eyes grow wide and bright and your wings puff up when you're excited, may I dare say even your little drool is adorable."

"D-drool?! I don't even drool!" "Oh yeah?" "M-mhm!" Grinning, I pulled out my phone to swiftly search KFC.

"Hawks~ I'll take you here one day if you'll admit it~" "I will admit to nothing! There's nothing that you can do to make me-" Hawks was interrupted by me shoving my phone in his face.

As Hawks studied the fried chicken I put my finger to the bottom of his lip. "Hmmm? What's this? Looks like drool to me~" "N-NO!"

Laughing, I patted Hawks's head as he wiped away his drool before hiding his head in my shoulder. "(Y/N)~ not nice!" "Okay Birdy, I'll stop now." I laughed, shoulders shaking as Hawks desperately seeked a hiding place in my shoulder.

As my laugh lowered to a giggle Hawks took the opportunity to peak up at me, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Awww cute little Birdy." I cooed, causing Hawks to jump onto me, burying his face into my shoulder.

"H-Hawks.." "NO!" Sighing, I wrapped my arms around my Birdy's neck before closing my eyes. "Well then. I'm taking a nap and you're staying right here." "W-what!" "Shhh" "(Y/n)~!"

Masterlist

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

#mha #bnha #banter #friends to lovers #mha fluff #fluff #hawks x reader #mha hawks #just friends #playful banter

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aventurineswife · 2 months ago

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This prompt (the 5th) w/ Aven... 👀

“I’ll be your bed, or anything else you want me to be”

Summary: After a long day, Aventurine playfully sprawls across the bed, claiming he's going to hog it so you can't get on. You're not about to let that stop you, so you climb right onto him, calling him your "bed."

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Playful Banter, Flustered Aventurine!, Soft Moments, Cuddling, Bed Sharing, Established Relationship, Comfort.

A/N: HEHE!! THIS IS SO CUTE!! 🤭🫶 I HOPE YOU LOVE IT!! <33

The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a gentle light over Aventurine, whose figure is sprawled across the entire bed, arms flung wide and a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. He lets out a dramatic sigh, the kind you’ve come to expect whenever he’s feeling playful.

“Mmm, I’m gonna hog the bed so you can’t get on.” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded as he settles himself in, feigning utmost comfort.

“Oh, is that so?” you reply, raising a brow. He’s challenging you, as he so often does, and there’s only one way to respond to that. With a steady step forward, you crawl onto the mattress and over his outstretched form, smiling down at him as he opens one eye, watching your approach with a barely contained grin.

“That’s fine,” you say, nestling in close, laying yourself gently against him, “I can just lay on you.”

The smirk fades for a moment as he processes your words, but the glimmer in his eyes only brightens. “Wait… are you calling me a bed?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone.

You let out a soft chuckle, curling up comfortably against his chest. “Yeah, you’re my bed.” you murmur, burying your face against him, feeling the warmth of his skin, the subtle rhythm of his heartbeat. One of his arms comes up to wrap around you instinctively, fingers gently stroking your back as if this were his plan all along.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been called that before,” Aventurine murmurs, his voice barely a whisper as his hand continues tracing light patterns along your back. “But I guess I’ll allow it. For you.”

A warmth spreads over you as you lie there in his embrace, his familiar scent and the soft fabric of his shirt filling you with a sense of peace. He shifts slightly to adjust himself, careful not to disturb your comfort, and you catch a glimpse of his flushed face, his gaze focused on you with a gentleness that makes your heart flutter.

“You really just leave me speechless, you know that?” he whispers, leaning his head back as if to steady himself. “No one’s ever dared call me a bed before… but somehow, it feels right with you.”

You laugh softly, a sound that seems to pull him in closer, his hand stopping its gentle caress just to rest against your back, grounding you both in this moment. You feel his lips press against your forehead, a small, tender kiss that speaks volumes of the love between you. There’s no need for words when he looks at you like this, his eyes meeting yours with such affection.

“Stay right here,” he murmurs, voice barely a whisper now as he relaxes fully, letting you rest against him. “As long as you’re here, I’ll be your bed, or anything else you want me to be.”

With a final, soft smile, you close your eyes, feeling his hand return to your back, each gentle movement of his fingers slowly lulling you to sleep. In the warmth of his arms, you find a sense of belonging, a peace that could only ever exist with him.

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poetessmuse · 8 months ago

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I see and understand the appeal of rough banter and mean “flirting”, leading to romantic or sexual relationships but oh how I crave a gentle soul.

A gentle mouth that drips honey with every word. A gentle heart that wants to know me inside and out, never bored. Gentle hands that know the road to my heart, through every curve and every callus, keeping me warm.

#i don’t want to overthink anymore #enemies to lovers #playful banter #banter #romance #romantic #relationship #relatable #genderfluid #pansexual #new to tumblr #hello tumblr #new friends #soft love

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liillyliilly · 6 months ago

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In Time You Get Your Rewards

tsukishima kei x reader words; 6507 synopsis; love takes patience. a lot of patience for tsukishima kei. at least they could be friends for now.

Comparing the times on wrists was everyone’s favorite way to pass the time. Seeing if one’s time matched someone else’s before the time ‘officially’ ran out. Sometimes they would be correct and other times it wouldn’t. Tsukishima was obsessed with the time on his wrist. He thought that he spent much more time on the numbers on his wrist more than anybody else.

Because he still had time.

It seemed like everybody else had already found their soulmate. Most met through school, sometimes from when they were toddlers. But for Tsukishima it was an extreme source of embarrassment that he still had time on his left wrist.

He felt like it wasn’t fair that he hadn’t met his yet. The bitterness for the time on his wrist grew immensely when he started his first year in high school. He still had a little over six months before he could meet his soulmate. Yamaguchi found his before him, Hinata found his before him, even Kageyama Tobio found his.

Tsukishima often lay awake at night staring at the time slowly passing by. Second by second and then minute by minute. She did the same, sitting cross legged on her own bed staring at the time. They went to different schools, and had no idea about the other, but all the same they hyperfocused on that timer imprinted on their skin in black markings.

When Tsukishima played volleyball, he wrapped his wrist in bandages because the time ticking by would distract him from the game at hand.

After the game against Johzenji, he packs up. As Karasuno is exiting the gym, celebrating their wins, Tsukishima feels his wrist itch, he looks down to it and shifts the bandages slightly. While doing so, he bumps into someone.

“Hey! Watch where you’re walking!” She pouts as she puts her hands on her hips. She’s wearing the Aoba Johsai uniform. And she looks pissed. Tsukishima puts his hands up. A pang goes through his heart, but he can’t quite place it. He deems it an unfortunate side effect of playing volleyball for a whole day.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a garden gnome, I would have seen you. But hey, blame it all on me.” Tsukishima rolls his eyes, intending to try and walk past her, but he bumps into her shoulder again. That in turn seems to anger her even more.

“A garden gnome?” She purses her lips together and rolls up her sleeves, “You wanna go? I may be shorter than you but I can still pack a solid punch.” Two of the Aoba Johsai volleyball members come rushing up and tug her back by her arms. She’s still trying to swing her arms around, biting at her schoolmates and telling them to let her go. She even throws her leg out to try and get Tsukishima.

He mocks her with a short laugh, just stepping backwards to avoid the kick she was trying to aim at his shins.

“We are so sorry.” The Aoba Johsai teammates both bow profusely, apologizing in unison. When Oikawa Tooru storms up to the scene all hell breaks loose. She starts to tattle on Tsukishima to Oikawa, and Oikawa pouts a little, patting her on the head. Tsukishima is entertained by her, but also desperately wants to call her a range of insults, brat or crybaby being the top two options floating around in his head.

He can’t quite place another feeling deep within his stomach when Oikawa tugs on her arm and brings her into his side. Tsukishima raises an eyebrow when Oikawa holds onto her shoulder and uses his other hand to squish her face.

“Now, now, Kindaichi and Yahaba, let's hear our dear manager’s point of view. I know for a fact that L/N-chan almost never starts a fight without a reason.” Oikawa tries to settle everything, but the younger members of his team keep snapping and complaining about Tsukishima. Tsukishima felt like he did nothing wrong and just wanted to find a moment to escape. She lurches out of Oikawa’s grasp, but he pulls her back to prevent Tsukishima from getting mauled.

Tsukishima’s wrist is burning now. He rubs it against his leg, trying to ignore the pain.

Her wrist feels irritated as well. When she looks down, she gasps. Covering her mouth with her other hand, staring at her timer.

Sugawara finally takes notice of the scene and pulls Tsukishima away before anything can start. Tsukishima can hear Oikawa ask her what’s wrong, as Tsukishima is being dragged away by Suga. Her voice feels distant as she starts to cry a little bit.

Tsukishima feels tired from the long day as he walks home with Yamaguchi. The tingles of his wrist still emanate and he scratches at the bandages intermittently.

“Say, Tsukki, I wonder, it isn’t very smart of you to cover your soulmate timer.” Yamaguchi fiddles with his backpack straps. A volleyball keychain dangles down from the strap, his soulmate had gotten him that. Tsukishima wondered if his soulmate would do cringey things like that.

“What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you heard some of those urban stories, people hiding their soulmate timer end up meeting them but not realizing it. Then they have to wait longer until they pay attention and notice the timer.” Yamaguchi shrugs before walking off to his street. He turns around to yell a closing statement, cupping his mouth with his hands to amplify his voice, “Just something to think about!”

Leaving Tsukishima to stand at the crossroads.

When Tsukishima gets home, he gets a pair of scissors and cuts up the large bandages he used to cover his wrists, cutting the fabric to use for wrapping his fingers instead. Satisfied, he tucks the strips of fabric into his bag. While Tsukishima busied himself getting ready for bed, he never expected to see what he saw.

A ten-minute timer. He swallowed thickly, his hand went limp and his toothbrush fell onto the floor. He’d have to boil it in hot water to get the germs out, but he was too preoccupied with running down the stairs.

Going into the living room he stares at his mom with such an intensity that it frankly kind of scares her.

“Do you have people coming over?” The words spill out clumsily.

“I don’t think so, why?” She sets down the book she was reading to pay more attention to her son, who was obviously in some state of distress.

Tsukishima only holds his wrist up to show his mom. She gasps and then starts to smile. Loud and abrasive knocking is heard from the front door. Tsukishima looks at his mom, and she just waves him off to go answer the door. Tsukishima takes a deep breath before opening the door.

“Hey asshole.” She has her arms folded and she glares at him.

It was his ‘gnome’ from earlier in the day. She was still in an Aoba Johsai uniform, and while Tsukishima did prefer the black uniforms Karasuno had, he could see why some people liked the girls uniforms at Aoba Johsai better. The lilac skirt did have its positive attributes, mostly the length, or the lack thereof.

“Hey?” Tsukishima is taken aback. “You’re not exactly who I imagined to be my soulmate.”

“I didn’t exactly want an oblivious idiot who bumps into girls to be my soulmate either.”

Tsukishima smirks before pulling her in close. “So how exactly did you figure out where I live?” She pushes away from him using her hands against his chest. He wonders how close he can get, if it’ll trigger her fight response again, if he’ll get to see her threatening to punch him. He figures the closer he gets, the more likely he is to have annoying her down to a science.

Plus, they were soulmates, so she had to feel something for him regardless of if he was bothering her or not.

“You have a very nice manager.” She huffs.

Tsukishima thinks back to how Kiyoko was looking at him weird during the bus ride back to Karasuno. He doesn’t know if he’d call Kiyoko nice, especially since she forgot to tell Tsukishima that she’d run into his soulmate and then just didn’t bring it up at all.

“I’m Kei.” He holds out his hand. Better late than never to get to know her on a slightly more formal playing field.

She shakes his hand and introduces herself in return. The warmth that runs up from their hands into their arms is soothing, like getting to go to bed after a tedious day.

“Nice to finally meet you.” Tsukishima uses her hand to pull her into him. Wrapping his arms around her waist. She tries to pull away again, but gives up once Tsukishima reaches to poke her flat in between her eyebrows.

Tsukishima reasoned she was more bark than actual bite.

“Eh, I don’t know how nice an asshole can be.” She taps her chin with her index finger, still wiggling out of Tsukishima’s grasp.

“I can be nice when I want to.”

He kept trying to be nice to her, when he wanted to, the next year as well.

He responded decently quickly to her text messages at least. He even introduced her to his family. They would eat dinners together at each other’s houses, and she showed him how to bake all kinds of treats. He always pretended to not care for them, but when she let out a hum after eating a fresh cookie out of the oven, he just had to give in and eat one too.

Second year was easier to go through, minus the teasing from his friends about his soulmate. Tsukishima just couldn’t give them enough information for their liking.

“What’s she like?” A classmate had asked once.

Tsukishima leaned back in his seat for a second, thinking about how last week she had refused his offer to carry her bag when they went to get new pencils at the corner shop. He thought of the time she shoved her hand onto his face, covering his lips when he tried to lean in once during a movie at her house.

“She’s like me.”

The response from his seatmate was just a groan in dissatisfaction, “Well, that sure tells me a lot. She’s a sarcastic, son of a bitch weirdo with a music obsession who ends up with a dent in the top of their head from wearing those thick headphones.”

Tsukishima could handle those kinds of comments about himself, but when they were also applied to her, he felt like there was something off kilter in the universe. “She doesn’t use headphones, she prefers earbuds.”

“She prefers earbuds.” The seatmate lifted up his pointer finger and pretended to push up imitation glasses on his nose, mimicking Tsukishima. A few of the other classmates chuckled a little in response.

He just rolled his eyes. Then he pulled out his flip phone, sending her a quick message.

To- (soulmate 😐): i just defended your honor i should be rewarded

From- (soulmate 😐): no

To- (soulmate 😐): i wonder what i’ll be getting as my gift

From- (soulmate 😐): what do you want, i’m in class

To- (soulmate 😐): i want a reward for keeping your name clear from these hooligans i go to school with

From- (soulmate 😐): …

To- (soulmate 😐): wow

To- (soulmate 😐): you must really care about me

From- (soulmate 😐): sure do.

Tsukishima shoved his phone back into his pocket. Tapping his fingers along to the beat of the song playing in his headphones, the wood of his desk numbing his fingers a little bit from the resistance.

They were slowly becoming- something. He couldn’t sense if they were friends, more than friends, less than friends, or even in the realm of being in a relationship.

But she did give him encouraging words from time to time, such as his favorite thing she’s ever told him right before the Inter-High tournament began.

He had almost swooned dramatically when she had come up to him and told him, “I hope you don’t trip on your shoe laces and that you can make one half decent block,” before going back to her own team to hand out water bottles.

After the last day of the tournament, and Karasuno not making it to nationals, but rather Date Tech making it, she had found him sitting on a bench all alone near the laundry room of the gym.

She didn’t say anything. She just sat down next to him, bumping her knee into his.

“I don’t want to joke around right now. We almost had it in that last set.” Tsukishima felt bad for being so prickly with her, but he had completely fumbled some of his blocks and he felt like an embarrassment.

“I’m not making any jokes.”

What she did next did come as a surprise to him, she pulled his hand from how it was clasped with his other one, resting over his legs in front of him. She intertwined their fingers and pressed the back of his hand to her lips.

She mumbles something that he can’t quite distinguish, but then she pressed a kiss to each one of his knuckles. When she finished what seemed like a small ritualistic behavior, she rested their hands on her thigh.

Tsukishima held down a smirk that was attempting to crawl over his face. In an almost craving way, he broke his hand free, and instead gripped the expanse of her bare thigh, going as far as pushing his pinkie and ring finger under her skirt a little.

She makes eye contact with him and gives him a flat look.

“What?” He feigns ignorance so well he might as well be considered an imbecile of the highest regard.

“Yeah, right. I’ll let it slide because you’re being whiney and ornery.”

His smirk really did have a mind of its own. He wondered what else she’d let slide just because he was in a sour mood.

He pushed his hand up just a little more, but she gripped his wrist bringing his hand down to her knee instead of her thigh.

“Okay, that’s enough kindness and affection for one day.” She stood up, ruffling Tsukishima’s hair since she could now reach it while he was sitting down. “We can hang out at mine if you want later. You did great today Kei. Sometimes we just lose. That’s how life is. We lose and we win.”

He grabs her hand as it’s still in his hair.

The air is stagnant.

He looks up to her, brown eyes slightly narrowed but containing more in them than she could distinguish. She felt like he was studying her for an exam of sorts. She returned his glare with ease, looking right into his eyes.

“We’re so much alike it hurts sometimes.” He lets the words out softly, if she hadn’t been paying careful attention to him then the squeaks in the gym would’ve overpowered his voice.

“Well, that’s why we’re soulmates. Built in best buddies.”

She left him alone, to consider her words. Buddies?

What the hell did she mean by buddies?

At her house, Tsukishima felt comfortable. The moment he crossed the threshold, the smell of fresh linen, honey lemon tea and her shampoo overpowered any sort of smell he had carried with him throughout the day. He had gone home and changed into casual clothes, then he made his way to her house. The walk to her house was long enough to let him ponder, keeping his hands warm in the pockets of his zip up hoodie.

He slid the hood of his jacket down when her mom opened the door and greeted him, and he absorbed the feeling of being at her house. He had decided to not text her, assuming that she would know that he wanted to hang out.

“She’s in her room, you should be able to just go in. Does your mom know you’re here?” Her mom took Tsukishima’s jacket from him and hung it up on the coat rack.

“Yes she does. Do you need me to leave at a specific time?” Tsukishima remembered his manners and bowed in gratitude to the older woman.

“Well, if it was up to me, I’d be fine with you sleeping over instead. She’s the one you have to get through to.” When she laughed to herself a little, Tsukishima nodded, deciding to make his way down the stairs to the basement bedroom. He ignored the use of the word ‘instead’.

He never should ignore ‘instead’ because ‘instead’ hurts a lot more than he could realize.

In the moments following him opening her bedroom door, he got a shirt thrown at him and was witnessing something that made his jaw clench tighter than ever before.

“Kei, what-” She pushed the curly brown haired boy off her bed, he was shirtless, and the shirt Tsukishima was holding in his hands likely belong to Mr. Wide-Eyed-Frozen-in-Place.

“What- what-” He fake stuttered, replicating her reactive words, then he spat out, “What the hell more like it.”

The curly haired brunette looked between Tsukishima and her rapidly. He tried to cut the tension with a laugh. “I’m Ito, nice to meet you.”

“Oh, shut up you Dr. Suess-wanna be.” Tsukishima threw the shirt back at him. He scrambled to shrug it over his shoulders, Tsukishima then noticed that his shoulders were much broader than Tsukishima’s own. A self-consciousness that he didn’t know was possible crept up, crawling and leaching itself on each of the prongs on his spine. He shuddered.

“Well, I’m just gonna,” Ito went to hug her goodbye but a scoff from Tsukishima deterred the action.

Tsukishima folded his arms from where he was standing. She bit down on her bottom lip, lips that Tsukishima noticed were particularly swollen and plump.

“This is just great.” Tsukishima sat down next to her on the bed, she curled her feet up, so she could wrap her arms around her legs and rest her head on her knees. “I suppose that you’re one of those people who view the whole soulmate thing as arbitrary.”

“I suppose you’re one of those people who view soulmates as sacred then.” Tsukishima can tell she’s joking around a little. If there was anything to genuinely joke about then he would’ve been the one making the joke.

He shoved her legs a little, so she slipped on the bed and broke out of her fake shell of limbs.

“Ito?” Tsukishima posed.

She filled in the gaps, “Ito Yuuta, second year at Aoba Johsai, swim team captain, biggest dork I’ve ever met.” She did like him though, he was nice, he just didn’t have the same charming wit that Tsukishima had. She felt a little bit like a complete jerk now realizing that Tsukishima had seen her kissing someone who wasn’t him.

“So you’ll let just any loser kiss you then?”

“Just preparing myself for you, cutie pie.” She reaches out and pinches his cheek.

Tsukishima fake vomited, sticking a finger almost into his mouth.

They rubbed off the strangeness, and she mentally took a note to lose Ito Yuuta’s number.

She pursed her lips, “I’m not quite ready to be with you the way I think you want to be with me.”

His mouth goes dry, and he emptily chews, trying to break apart the stale taste in his mouth. He never realized just how serious it all could be. Soulmates at seventeen. The way that he perceives it is that, you’re supposed to be the one who knows you best, and intrinsically, your soulmate was supposed to be that. How are you supposed to be soulmates with someone if you didn’t even know them well enough to order their food at the corner store?

He figures this is the moment he makes a shift. He’d just have to work harder to get to know her. And he’d have to stake a claim. Maybe claim was the wrong word, but clarifying to her that they were something rather than nothing to each other was the highest priority.

“I got myself a stupid soulmate.” He chimed.

Instead of a funny retort from her, she just smiled. He laid back onto her bed, and she copied the motion. He had his hands on his stomach, tapping his abdomen. She rolled onto her side, brushing against his fringe a little.

“Just, uh, don’t go around kissing other dudes.” Tsukishima closed his eyes and brought a hand up to his face. “I sound totally batshit crazy. Do whatever you want, I just don’t want to witness whatever that was ever again.”

She laughed, and it was like they were in another world. They both agreed to just be friends, for now.

He wondered if they’d ever become more than this in-between. Was there an expiration on becoming something with his soulmate? Some people never did much with theirs, choosing to remain as friends. Some people got married as soon as possible. Others bided their time and waited until they were ready to handle the responsibility of someone’s heart.

She agreed to not kiss anyone else for the time being.

They watched Clueless on her TV, and he kept complaining that it was weird that a fifteen year old was in love with a college kid, or that the college kid actually reciprocated. Not to mention the whole step-sibling thing.

“I don’t know, college kids have a sort of je ne sais quoi. Think of Akiteru for example, he’s just like Paul Rudd in this movie- entirely delicious.”

“I might have to actually drown myself in the tears of my ancestors, they'd be ashamed of you, betraying me for my brother.”

“I’d never do such a thing, but if Akiteru wanted a taste test, who am I to deny-”

Tsukishima sat up and covered her mouth with his hand. He slowly shook his head from side to side. It was damning how riled up he could get with just one statement from her. Though, he supposes they match that way, knowing exactly which chord to strike in order to make the other entirely irate.

In third year, it was much more common for them to spend time together, still with an ambiance of annoyance but underneath all the banter, all the forced charm, all the pseudointellectual grown-up talk, they were just them.

There he was, jumping up for another block, shifting his feet from where he had been sitting and lunging upwards, fingers outstretched just barely going over the net. He landed, having successfully blocked Hinata’s spike. In response, Hinata groaned and pulled on his hair, Kageyama shrugged.

Yamaguchi clapped his hands, telling the juniors on the team why Tsukishima’s block was successful and how to replicate his technique.

“Or you know, just grow taller and not have to work on technique.” He laughed in response to Yamaguchi’s glare.

Tsukishima had grabbed a towel from Yachi and was drying the sweat from his hair. His shoulders were sore from the work out he and Kageyama had done the night before. He was aiming to see how much width he could put onto his shoulders before the school year was over. Kageyama was already three centimeters broader than him despite them starting at around the same shoulder width.

Once the gym had been cleaned, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were changing in the locker room. Yamaguchi fidgets with his ponytail hair tie.

“You need to get a haircut, your whole shaggy thing is a major deterrent for any sort of friendship we have going on.”

“Maybe if your hair was longer, she’d actually come to watch us practice. And you could finally put all those lateral raises and shoulder presses to good use. You know, for your aesthetic purposes in trying to get hotter for her.” Yamaguchi finished taking his shirt off and ran hands through his hair, turning around and trying to wave the strands in Tsukishima’s face.

Tsukishima grabbed the top of Yamaguchi’s head and shoved him away. “She can’t come watch us play because she’s busy with her team, my little manager extraordinaire.” He faked jazz hands and put his regular shirt back on, stuffing the volleyball uniform into his black duffel bag.

She had given him a keychain, of herself. Well, it was her photo in a holder that was decorated with dinosaurs and strawberries, there were shaker emblems in the hollow space of the rectangular cube, of stars and volleyballs. It was a visual atrocity, none of it working together cohesively, but he loved the keychain all the same.

It dangled from his duffel bag when he slung it over his shoulder, and Yamaguchi chuckled a little, rushing to put his shirt on so he could walk out of the gym with Tsukishima.

“Wait up!”

It was a shade of light orange fading into purple outside, and Kageyama, Hinata, Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima were making their way down the street to the crossroads where they went their separate paths. She usually met up with Tsukishima there as well, despite his reluctance for her to walk around late at night.

Seeing her with a wad of tissue up her nose and a pack of ice on the side of her face was ultimately the worst way to put an end to the night. The other boys quickly caught on and bid their farewells, sensing an air of undisclosed intimacy.

Tsukishima sucked in a deep breath, setting his duffle bag down on the ground next to her and using his hand to hold the ice pack for her. He used his other hand to lift her chin up so he could see if there was still blood coming out from her nose.

He didn’t even have to say anything for her to start explaining, she kept trying to hold the ice pack herself, but he kept anxiously swatting her hand away so he could hold the pack himself.

“It was a stray ball gone entirely haywire. The first years we have are on crack cocaine I swear.” She winced a little when he applied some pressure from the ice pack to her temple. “Ouch, stop, let me do it instead.”

He let out a clicking sound, being gentler with the ice pack.

“It’s nice that you care, but please I need to get home.”

“Just a little bit longer.” Tsukishima pulled her down to the street curb, so they could sit down. “The best they could do for you was an ice pack and a wad of paper to stick up your nostril?”

“I know, I’m out here working my ass off for the volleyball hooligans and I don’t even get princess treatment when they pop me in the face with their balls.” She sets the ice pack next to her foot, kicking at the plastic a little.

He laughed, his shoulders shaking a little.

She pulled out the tissue, tucking the bloody end into the main body of the tissue and shoving it into her pocket. She covered her nose, knowing there was some dried blood on her upper lip, she turned her head around so he couldn’t see her.

“Hey, c’mon, I know what blood looks like,” He shakes her knee a little, teasing her. “I think I have a wipe in my bag,” Tsukishima pulled the bag into his lap, searching around. He hands her the disposable wipe and she rubs it under her nose.

“How do I look?” She turns back to him, giving him a smile.

“You look great. You always look great.”

She bumps into his shoulder with her own and he winces slightly.

She frowns a little, “You got hurt at practice?”

“Ah, let’s go with that.”

She figures that since he gave her something to clean her face off, she should give him something back.

“Want me to rub your shoulders a little?” She brought a hand to the shoulder closest to her, and started to rub her thumb in a circular motion on the back blade.

He swallows, his fingers twitching from a want to hold her hand that was on his back. She shifts so she’s behind him, sitting on her calves as her knees press against his back a little. Her thumbs are on his shoulder blades and her fingers wrap around the bulk of his shoulder to reach his collarbones. Her ministrations reduce the aching in his muscles but only intensify the buzz he gets when he’s around her.

“If you keep doing this I might fall in love with you.” It’s wistless but carries an appetite that itches to be satiated.

The sun had finally set, streaking the sky with strands of reds and yellows at the cusp of the edge of the earth that was visible to them. The sky directly overhead was deeply purple and dark navy blue. Some white splatters of stars dotted the universe.

“Who’s to say you aren’t already in love with me?” She wraps her arms around his neck, resting her chin on the top of his head.

He moves his head, and hers falls down a little, no longer able to use his head as a support for her chin, he presses a quick kiss to her jaw.

“Now that’s a great question from you, let’s keep those kinds of inquiries coming.”

She liked to pester him with questions well into college, especially as they sat side by side in their anthropology class.

“So how do I tell the difference between the 1400s and 1300s? Professor keeps saying we can clearly see the difference between a vase from the 1350s and a vase from the 1410s but honestly they both look like piles of crust to me.” She was tugging on his hand under the desk they were sitting at. He just kept taking his notes, transcribing what the T.A was talking about for an upcoming exam.

“Okay, Kei. I see how it is. Leaving your lovely girlfriend to struggle in the same class you begged her to take with you.”

He shushes her a little, grabbing her hand with his free one. “I’ll help you after class.”

He got a glance of the zeroes in black on his wrist.

He looks at her wrist, matching zeroes. He was glad that he bumped into her that day.

They were soulmates. It was plain to see, plain to feel, plain to understand.

The T.A closes a notebook and dismisses the class, he announces he’s going to his office to grab something and then he’ll be back to answer some questions.

Tsukishima sets his pen down and grabs her face with both hands, she raises an eyebrow at him and tries to lean back.

“This doesn’t feel very academic in nature, this is definitely not an answer to my question, so what is this?” She gesticulates her hands between the two of them.

“This is me kissing you.”

He rushed to close the distance between them. Their noses bumped into each other before he tilted his head a little bit. When he slid his tongue into her mouth, she whimpered a little and nudged his chest. But he stayed connected to her. Tsukishima could hear the classmates that hadn’t left yet making some barraging comments, he didn’t care.

He tried to pull her into him, lifting her slightly by the back of her knee and trying to bring it around his body with zeal. He licked her bottom lip before nipping at it. She went with it, resting a hand on his chest and leaning into the kiss slightly.

Tsukishima pushed the rolling desk away slightly, and used a hand to bring her chair closer to his. When she placed her other hand behind his neck and toyed with the strands of hair along the back of his head he kissed her with more pressure. He kept trying to coax her into his lap as he kept tugging on the back of her knee.

The T.A got back and dropped a stack of papers, seeing as Tsukishima had just given up on coaxing her and had entirely just pulled her into his lap of his own volition. She was so embarrassed when the teacher’s assistant had, in a voice barely below a scream, chastised them and said they’d need to write a paper on proper classroom conduct.

Tsukishima had zoomed through his essay, spending the rest of the hour in the office drawing shapes on her back with his fingers, lackadaisical with his motions. She had almost, just barely, snapped at him when he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He drew a heart on her back in a wide sweep motion, before changing his tactic and using just his finger tips to scratch her back lightly.

“You are not sorry.” She said with teeth clenched, pausing writing her essay.

“Yeah. I’m not. I just really wanted to kiss you.” To Tsukishima’s words, she just clicked her tongue at him.

“There’s nothing hot about anthropology so I don’t know what gave you the animalistic urge to kiss me like that.”

He pouted a little, then picked up the pen from her paper and twirled it between his fingers.

“While anthropology may not be hot, you definitely are.”

She groaned in response, trying to take her pen back. He just shook his head no and gave a traditional Tsukishima ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’. He took the paper from her as well, writing the rest of the outlined points rapidly so they could get out of the office and into their apartment.

“Remember when you kissed me in the middle of class, and then the T.A got so mad at us. I want more memories like that, and I suppose I’ll get them because now we’re legally stuck together.” Her hands were shaking a little, reading the paper in front of everyone.

Tsukishima was easily able to ignore everyone else, focusing on the way she had done her hair. He had heard the vows beforehand. She didn’t trust anyone else but him to be a proofreader for her little speech. She also wanted him to get out all the cringes so he didn’t tease her during the wedding because then her dad would’ve gotten mad at him.

They had gone over their vows together the night before, curled up on their couch, joking and laughing at what the other had written.

“You cannot say that you can’t wait to replicate our college graduation night over again, that’s foul.”

“We have a better car now.” He shrugged. She hit him with her stack of drafts repeatedly.

“And you need to add in how much you love me.”

“I’m marrying you, isn’t that clear enough for a statement of love?” Tsukishima groaned and threw his head back onto the couch.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna cut it, mister. I need you on your hands and knees in gratitude. I need you wallowing in desperation for me. I need you to be obsessed.”

Tsukishima could do that. He quickly wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her over his lap so she was straddling his thighs. He let his hands rest on the small of her back, before sliding around to rub her thighs languorously. Tsukishima sighed in contentment when she slumped over him a little, tucking her head into the nook of his neck.

“There’s a lot I’m sorry for,” Tsukishima blinked a few times, she hadn’t included a bit like this when he read her draft. “And there’s a lot I wish that I could go back and redo. I’m sorry for you because I know that I’m stubborn, and I’m sorry that I made you wait until college so we could date, despite knowing we were soulmates in high school. You did a great job of sticking it out. And you stuck it out for me, the girl who tried to fight you in the middle of a gymnasium after you accidentally bumped into her.”

Tsukishima didn’t expect to get choked up. When he looked over to his family, Akiteru was sobbing uncontrollably as their mom rubbed Akiteru’s back. Tsukishima glanced over to his friends, and Yamaguchi was forcing a smile despite looking completely overwhelmed with tenderness.

“I’m gonna tease you now so don’t bite my head off when this reception is over okay? I stuck it out too for you, especially when you kept trying to kiss me all throughout high school, or when you would slide your hand over my thigh.”

Tsukishima blushed and he used his hands to cover his face with an incredulous noise erupting from his throat. He hoped that her parents would have selective hearing for that specific part of her vows.

“But, you chipped away at me. Slowly. With a sort of dedication that would impress even the builders of the Pyramids. I wish that everyone got to see that side of you, but I’m glad that I got to experience it first hand. The side of Tsukishima Kei where he knows what he wants and pursues any path to achieve it. My Kei, who when faced with obstacles, decides that the obstacles aren’t a problem for him and that he can keep going.”

He wipes away the tears prickling away at his eyes.

“So, here’s to the future. Here’s to our lives pressing onward. I say that we win some and that we lose some, and you say back to me that you deserve a reward for doing either. Winning or losing, you want a reward for the experience. From this experience, getting to know me, and then dating me, and then being engaged to me, I hope that now that we’re moving onward that I’m enough of a reward.”

He knows he isn’t supposed to interrupt her, but he does, “You’re the only reward I need.”

She turns the paper around. She’s laughing a little, ignoring the tears on her face. Tsukishima looks at where her finger is pointing to. And right below her line of hoping she’s enough of a reward, clear as day is a prediction she had written.

Cue Kei saying something cringey in response, 10 bucks it’s “You’re the only reward I need.”

Tsukishima clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes.

But it was true.

She was all he needed.

He remembers reading something about soulmates during high school. Or maybe it was about relationships in general, but that’s not the point. The article had said something along the lines of, when you date someone you’re competing with that person.

You compete to be worth something to that someone, to be worth the time they would be spending on themself instead.

Tsukishima thought that was all a load of bullshit.

Love isn’t something you compete for, or something you build up virtuous worth for. Love is natural and doesn’t require anything but patience and effort. He didn’t need to compete to be worth anything to her, he just had to be himself.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima #soulmate au #lilly's red string of fate #fluff #haikyuu fluff #slow burn?#slow burn mostly #he just pines a lot #playful banter out the wazoo #playful banter

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