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goldfades · 6 months ago

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★ RIZZLER P ─── PB⁵ (part 2/2)

౨ৎ ─ summary | part one -> y/n is a youtuber and on the cancelled podcast, she reveals she has a crush on paige bueckers. y/n gets invited to her first game of the season and they have a lot of fun! part one!!!!!!!!!!!

─ warnings | literally nothing but banter and fun, slight paige slander (but its from kk and ice so its ok), idk what else. oh brooke and tana being protective but its in a sweet way. also i love this mini series i loved it

─ ev's notes | sooo im trying out a semi-new format, lmk if yall like it!!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

Paige 💕 (paigebueckers) started following you.

Paige 💕 wants to send you a message. Hey, I heard you were into D1 basketball players? 😉

The message stuck out to you, your stomach dropping as you read the message request. You couldn't help but grin as you read her playful message, the nervous energy in your stomach now morphing into a thrilling anticipation. With shaky hands, you tapped on the message request, your heart pounding in your chest.

You couldn't believe Tana's advice had actually worked ─ talking about them on a podcast was the best rizz, apparently.

With trembling hands, you typed out a response, trying to come across confident despite the fluttering of nerves in your stomach.

Y/N 🎀 hi, you saw the episode?

Y/N 🎀 god i'm so embarrassed, sorry if you keep getting bombarded with questions from my fans lol. they mean well i swear 😫

You exited out of Instagram and tapped on iMessage, quickly getting into your group-chat with the girls.

we ❤️ white claws

y/n | GUESS WHO DM'D ME

tana | PAIGE BUECKERS???????

brooke | it better be paige or ur just blue balling us atp

y/n | yes it was paigeeee! *sends screenshot*

brooke | omgggg she's flirting with you!!!!

tana | what did i say bro?? what did i say?????

y/n | tysm tana ur literally the fucking best

As you were typing out your message to the groupchat, your phone buzzed. You looked up at the message, a smile spreading on your lips.

Paige 💕 Haha, yeah, I saw the episode. Don't worry about it, it's all good :)

Paige 💕 And no need to apologize, ur fans are really funny lol

You closed your phone, shutting your eyes as you swallowed a squeal of excitement.

The thrill of talking to Paige was almost overwhelming, but in the best possible way. You'd thought she was attractive since you'd first gotten into basketball back in high school (yes, it was because of your ex but that's besides that point), and it was surreal now that she was not only talking to you ─ she was hitting on you.

──

It had been a few weeks since you'd began talking to Paige and since then, you'd exchanged phone numbers and were talking every single day. She was sending you good morning texts, she made sure to do an fit check every morning, and you found yourself eagerly awaiting each message from her. The thrill of talking to Paige hadn't faded; if anything, it had only intensified as you got to know her better.

However, you knew since the season was beginning she wasn't going to be as free as she was before. You didn't mind, of course ─ you were just happy you were able to talk to her at all. These last couple days had been busy for her and you hadn't been able to talk to her, but this morning you'd gotten something in the mail that you were sure you didn't order.

You ripped it open to reveal Paige's jersey, and it was even signed at the bottom. You couldn't believe it, your heart swelling with warmth at the unexpected gesture from her. Holding the jersey in your hands, you couldn't help but smile at the thoughtfulness behind her gift.

As if on cue, your phone began buzzing in your pocket and you pulled it out. You quickly accepted the Facetime, a grin on your face as you answered.

"Oh my god, you're insane."

"What? You got the jersey?" Paige feigned shock, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she grinned at you through the screen. "I have no idea how that got there."

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. "Yeah, I got it. Thank you so much, Paige. It's... it's amazing."

Paige's smile softened, her eyes warm with affection. "You're welcome. I just wanted to show my appreciation for you, you know?"

You felt a swell of warmth in your chest. "Well, it definitely made my day. Thanks, P. I really mean it."

Paige smirked as she took you in through the Facetime. "So, I guess you'll have to wear it to my games now, right? You can't let this signed jersey go to waste."

"Is that an invitation, P?" You teased, raising an eyebrow playfully as you grinned at Paige through the screen. The idea of attending Paige's games in her signed jersey filled you with excitement, and you couldn't wait to cheer her on from the stands.

Paige chuckled, her smirk widening. "Yeah, you down? You know our first game's on Thursday night, I'll get you floor tickets and everything."

You didn't think she was serious but the more you thought about it, the more you realized she might actually be serious. The excitement bubbled up within you at the thought of attending Paige's game, especially with floor tickets.

"Are you serious?" you asked, a hint of disbelief in your voice.

"Well, uh. I know it's a long flight but I wanna see you. I'll fly you out, I'll show you around and we can spend some time together, and stuff." Paige's usual confident demeanor was replaced with a touch of nervousness, her eyes searching yours for a reaction.

"Paige, are you sure?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The idea of spending time together in person was both thrilling and nerve-wracking, and you couldn't believe that Paige was offering to fly you out just to see her.

Paige nodded, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Of course, I would. I mean, if you want to."

"Yeah, of course I would. You're sure?" You spoke softly but earnestly. Flights were expensive, especially when they were as last minute as this.

Paige let out a dramatic sigh as she nodded. "Yes, bro. Yes or no?"

"Yeah, of course. Gosh, so impatient." You teased as Paige laughed through the Facetime.

Paige chuckled, her laughter filling the screen as she rolled her eyes playfully. "Okay, good. Now show me how my jersey looks on you, put it on for me."

You blushed slightly as you nodded, taking the jersey as you walked up the stairs of your house. You couldn't believe it ─ you were flying out to meet Paige in less than a week. You were going to meet Paige Bueckers in less than a week.

──

"Y/N L/N is flying out to see your ass?" KK's voice sounded shocked as sat up on the bed, her eyes wide and her jaw slightly dropped in disbelief.

Paige kept her eyes on her phone as she nodded slowly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. She tried to keep the whole nonchalant thing going up but her friends could see right through it.

Paige couldn't help but smirk at KK's shocked reaction, though she attempted to maintain an air of nonchalance. "Yeah, she is," she replied casually, her fingers tapping away on her phone.

"She's coming to watch us play, like on Thursday?" KK repeated slowly as she tried to process the information, her eyes still wide with astonishment. "Seriously?"

Paige shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, seriously. Why is it so hard to believe?"

Ice, who had been lounging next to KK, chimed in with a smile. "Sounds like you're getting serious, P. Bringing her to a game? That's basically a relationship milestone."

Paige rolled her eyes playfully at Ice's comment. "It's not like that, Ice. We're just friends."

"Does she know that? You're such a fuckboy, Paige." Ice rolled her eyes as she exchanged a look with KK.

Paige couldn't help but laugh at Ice's teasing, though she couldn't deny the warmth spreading through her chest at the thought of you. "Trust me, Ice, she knows. And I'm not a fuckboy, I'm just... being a good friend."

KK chuckled, nudging Ice playfully. "Come on, Ice, let's not scare Paige away from the relationship talk."

"Bro, fuck off," Paige groaned as she sighed, leaning back in the gaming chair.

Paige knew she liked you but at this point, she'd only been texting you for a month and before she could be official with you, she'd have to spend time with you in real life. Plus, you lived in California and long distance was not the ideal for her.

"Are we getting those live show tickets or..." KK began as Paige sent her a glare. She put up her hands in defense as Ice let out a small laugh, shaking her head in amusement.

"Don't worry, we can ask her Thursday," Ice teased as she leaned back in the bed, her grin widening.

"Bro, you better leave her alone-"

"Ooo, she's getting possessive already. You have to remember it's Y/N, bro, she's definitely going to have some fans too." KK laughed, joining in on the teasing with a playful smirk.

Paige rolled her eyes at her friends' banter, though she couldn't help but feel a hint of amusement at their antics. "Guys, come on. Let's not make a big deal out of it."

KK chuckled, nudging Ice with her elbow. "Oh, come on, Paige, we'll behave."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Paige retorted as the girls laughed.

──

Y/N 🎀 posted on her story !

You were incredibly nervous and the noise of the crowded stadium didn't do much to calm your already frayed nerves. It was your first time meeting Paige in person, and the anticipation had been building up inside you since the moment you boarded the plane to Connecticut.

The plan was to originally go to a pre-game dinner but it didn't really work out because of the traffic and the hectic schedule leading up to the game. Instead, Paige suggested meeting directly at the stadium, where she would give you a tour and introduce you to some of her teammates before the game started.

As you made your way through the crowds, your heart pounded with nervous excitement. Thoughts raced through your mind, wondering if Paige would like you in person as much as she seemed to over text, if you would have enough to talk about, and if you'd be able to keep your nerves in check. You were a nervous wreck, your stomach twisting in anxiety.

You couldn't help but feel a knot forming in your stomach as you scanned the crowd, searching for Paige among the sea of faces. Suddenly, you spotted her standing near the entrance to the court, her eyes scanning the crowd with a look of concentration. Your breath caught in your throat as you made eye contact, and a wave of relief washed over you.

God, she was even more attractive in real life. Her hair was in her signature braided ponytail and had worn some light make-up, her lashes long and her cheeks pink with blush.

Paige's face lit up with a bright smile as she caught sight of you, and she began weaving her way through the crowd towards you. Your nerves melted away as she drew closer, and before you knew it, her arms wrapped around you in a light embrace.

She was even taller than you expected ─ she practically towered over you, but her embrace felt warm and comforting. As she pulled back, you couldn't help but admire the way her eyes sparkled with excitement as she scanned your outfit.

"You're wearing the jersey!" She exclaimed as her eyes took you in, she had no shame in the fact she was checking you out. You didn't miss the way she bit her lip and how her eyes lingered, your face flushing with warmth at her gaze.

"Yeah, I wanted to show my support," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fluttering of nerves in your stomach. "Plus, it's pretty comfy."

Paige grinned, her smile widening at your response. "Well, you look amazing in it. Maybe even better than I do," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You couldn't help but laugh at her teasing, your blush deepening as you looked up at the taller girl. "You're such a flirt,"

Paige bit her lip as her head fell back as she laughed, her laughter filling the air around you and sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. "Nah, I wasn't even trying that time."

Before you could reply, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to meet the gazes of two girls and a boy, their expressions nervous and excited. "Oh my god, we are such big fans!"

You smiled instantly as you turned your attention toward them. "Aw, thank you, guys. That means the world, would you like a picture?"

The trio's faces lit up with excitement as they nodded eagerly. "Yes, please!" one of the girls exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.

"Can she take the picture?" One of the girls asked as she gestured toward Paige. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, her hands in her pockets as she exchanged a glance toward you.

"Uh, sure."

You and the fans gathered closer, posing for the picture as Paige stepped back to frame the shot. With a quick press of the button, the photo was taken, capturing the moment. As the fans thanked you both and walked away, chatting animatedly amongst themselves. You glanced toward the blonde as she began laughing, shaking her head.

"What?" You asked as she drew closer to you.

Paige shrugged. "I just kinda forgot you're like famous, or whatever. It kinda gives me like... an ego boost, not gonna lie."

You couldn't help but laugh at Paige's comment, her candidness adding to the lightheartedness of the moment. "Why?"

"You're like this really pretty girl who's super funny and has like, a whole fanbase. And you flew out to see me, you told everyone on your friend's podcast that you had a crush on me and now you're here, just casually hanging out with me, wearing my jersey like it's no big deal," Paige explained, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

You laughed at her explanation, feeling a warmth spread through you at her words. "Well, to be fair, you're also this incredible basketball player who's basically taking the WNBA world by storm. And you invited me to your game, so I'd say we're pretty even."

"You're boosting my ego even more though, I hope you know that," Paige replied with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

You chuckled, feeling a sense of ease settle between you. "Just returning the favor," you teased, nudging her playfully.

"Okay, I'ma let me show you around now," Paige grinned as she gestured for you to keep walking. Her hands found your waist and began guiding you through the halls, her touch unexpected but undoubtedly welcome.

You couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement at the contact, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. With Paige's arm around your waist, guiding you through the busy stadium corridors, you felt a sense of intimacy that was both thrilling and comforting.

──

As you sat in the stands, surrounded by cheering fans and the energy of the game, your heart raced with excitement. You stole glances at Paige on the court, marveling at her skill and grace as she played. Despite your nerves, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride knowing that you were there to support her.

She was so attractive (even while running around and sweating), she reminded you how much you loved hoopers. The way she moved, the intensity in her eyes as she focused on the game, it all captivated you. Even in the midst of competition, she exuded a confidence and poise that was undeniably attractive.

Your eyes stayed on her the entire game, not paying much attention to anything else. You were so enamored with Paige that you hardly noticed the passage of time. Every movement she made seemed effortless, every shot she took seemed destined to find the net.

As the game reached its end, with the score neck and neck, Paige seemed to rise to the occasion, her determination shining through in every play. And when she sank the winning shot in the final seconds of the game, the crowd erupted into cheers, the sound reverberating throughout the stadium.

You couldn't help but leap to your feet, cheering along with the rest of the fans as you watched Paige celebrate with her teammates on the court.

As the crowd began to disperse and the energy of the game slowly subsided, you made your way down to the court, eager to congratulate Paige. As you approached her, a wide grin spread across her face, and she pulled you into a tight hug, the euphoria of the win still palpable in the air.

Paige didn't care if people took pictures or if people decided to gossip about it later; all she cared about was you being there in that moment.

"You looked really good out there," the words came out of your mouth before you could really process them. Paige pulled out from the hug with a laugh, her arms still around your shoulders.

"And you looked really sexy in the stands, wearing my jersey." Paige smirked playfully, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she teased you.

"I felt like a NBA trophy wife, I was clapping all cutesy cause I knew people were taking pictures of me," you quipped, feeling a rush of excitement at Paige's playful banter. Her laughter was infectious, and you found yourself grinning in response.

Paige chuckled, giving you a playful nudge with her shoulder. "Well, you definitely looked the part," she teased, her tone affectionate as she leaned in closer to you.

You laughed along with her, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort in her presence. "Guess I'll have to start practicing my trophy wife wave for next time," you replied with a playful wink.

"Ooo, next time? Does that mean you'll visit me again?" Paige teased, raising an eyebrow playfully as she looked at you.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for her at her words. "Of course," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "But only if you make me a WNBA wife, P."

She squinted as if she was thinking about it, earning a playful shove from you. "I'm just playing, you're the only girl."

"I'd hope so," you scoffed as you playfully rolled your eyes, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Paige grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, lucky for you, you're my favorite girl," she replied, her tone soft and affectionate.

"So there are other girls?" You teased as she groaned playfully, earning a laugh from you. "I'm just your favorite-"

"That's not what I meant, you're the only one who's wearing my signed jersey, that I sent directly to your house and you're the only one who gets good morning texts and fit checks." Paige countered, her playful smirk widening into a genuine smile.

You couldn't help but laugh at her response, feeling a sense of warmth and happiness fill your chest. "Yeah, I guess you're right," you replied, your tone light and teasing.

Before Paige could reply, she saw Ice and KK approaching from behind you. She sighed as you turned around, meeting their excited gaze.

Paige sighed playfully as she turned to greet Ice and KK, who were clearly eager to join in on the conversation. "Hey, what's up, you two?" she greeted them with a smile, her eyes flickering with amusement.

Ice and KK exchanged a knowing look before KK grinned mischievously. "So, are we interrupting something here?" she teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Paige rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the smile tugging at her lips. "Y/N, this is KK and Ice. Don't worry about them though, they're just stupid freshman who think they're the shit-"

"Bro, says you!" KK shouted as you laughed, exchanging a smile with Ice.

"I know who you guys are, P talks about you a lot," you said, offering a friendly smile to KK and Ice. "Nice to finally meet you both."

KK's eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh, really? What does she say about us?" she asked eagerly, leaning in closer with a playful grin.

Paige let out a groan, shooting you an amused glance before replying, "Only good things, I promise."

"Yeah, she loves you guys." You smiled as you glanced between Paige, KK, and Ice. "Always talking about your antics and how you keep things interesting."

"She talks about you too, like nonstop." KK began before she earned a shove from a very flustered Paige.

Ice continued, "We thought she was lying until we watched your episode with Tana and Brooke, then we were confused cause you like Paige?"

"Why are you saying it like that? Paige?" Paige mocked Ice, earning a laugh from you and KK.

"Cause Y/N's like a whole baddie, like a 20/20 and you're just like... mid at basketball," Ice explained as Paige sent her a playful glare. "People are gonna be really confused until they see how much you make, then they'll be like ohh,"

"Shut up, bro," Paige replied, but there was a fondness in her tone as she exchanged playful banter with Ice. "It's not about basketball skills, it's about the person."

"Sure, sure," KK chimed in with a grin. "We all know you're a catch, Paige. But hey, if Y/N's into it, who are we to judge?"

You laughed at the girls banter, exchanging a smile with Paige as Ice and KK did the same. "Y/N, we have a question."

"Oh no, bro," Paige groaned as KK nudged her slightly, telling her to be quiet as you nodded, laughing softly.

"Can you get us tickets to Tana and Brooke's shows? Please, we really really wanna go," KK asked, her excitement palpable.

You couldn't help but chuckle at KK's eagerness. "Sure! I'll reach out to them get you guys some," you replied with a smile, already mentally making a note to message Tana and Brooke about it later.

Paige rolled her eyes playfully. "Great, now you're getting my girl to do favors for you," she joked, earning a laugh from both you and KK.

"Your girl?" Ice responded as she raised her brow. "Okay, I see you P, already locking it down."

Paige's cheeks flushed slightly as she playfully nudged Ice. "Shut up, Ice. You know what I mean."

KK leaned in with a mischievous grin. "Oh, we know what you mean, Paige. You're just too scared to admit it."

"Okay, well. Thank you so much, Y/N, you're even more stunning in person. I'll leave you guys to it, now," Ice smirked as she grabbed KK and began walking off the court, toward the team.

Paige let out a sigh before she turned over to meet your eyes, a softness to softness to her expression that made your heart flutter. "Sorry about them, they're like that all the time," she said with a chuckle.

You shook your head with a smile, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you. "No, no, they seem really sweet. They remind me of Tana and Brooke though," you laughed as Paige nodded.

"Uh, sure!" Paige teased as you shook your head in amusement. "I need to go take a shower but um, maybe you can come over?"

Your smile widened at the request as you nodded. "Yeah, sounds like fun."

Again, her hand found the small of your back as she led you toward the team. She was soon reminded of a team celebration they were planning on doing later and the girls insisted on bringing you, she realized that you had become their favorite, too.

But she couldn't blame them, you were perfect.

──

tana mongeau (tanamongeau) started following you. Brooke (brookeschofield) started following you.

tana mongeau wants to send you a message. hurt her and you die, got it blondie ?? not joking btw

Brooke wants to send you a message. Heard you & Y/N had a fun time this weekend! You seem like such a sweet girl, would love to have you on the pod sometime. Promise we'll keep it PG 🤗

Brooke Oh and go huskies!!!! 😁

Paige glanced at her phone with a slight groan, shaking her head. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me,"

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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hugheshischier4313 · 25 days ago

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YOU MISS HIM DON’T YOU | Q. HUGHES

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x reader

Warnings: maybe emotional cheating?

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: Hi lovelies! I was rewatching desperate housewives and a certain scene encouraged me to write something similar. It was supposed to be a quick little Drabble/blurb but im at 10 pages now and still not done. So here’s a snippet :)

———————————————————————

Quinn had known about your boyfriend from the very beginning. He had seen you together, bringing boxes to the apartment beside his, and noticed you immediately. He wished he could say it had all been innocent, but the first thing he saw was how your legs looked in the tennis skirt you had been wearing. You bent down to pick up a fallen pillow as he exited his car in the parking garage. His eyes lingered on you, and he forced himself to turn away before you noticed. He swore he would offer to help you before he met eyes with Andrew as he stepped out of the parking garage elevator.

"I didn't mean to; it just happened. You were bent over, in a skirt, right outside my car; it was hard to look away when I didn't expect you to be there." Quinn had a slight pink tone to his features right now, and you were smiling, trying to suppress a laugh. You stood in the kitchen, pouring the margaritas into your cups.

"You mean the skirt I'm wearing right now? Is that why you mentioned it? Quinn, you could have kept that secret forever. I mean, you couldn't waterboard that information out of me." You were always more giggly when drinking, which was contagious to Quinn. "But since you didn't, I'm gonna use this against you for the foreseeable future." The laugh left you when you got back to Quinn's couch. "I'll try not to make any sudden movements that may catch you off guard," you teased as you stood before him and handed him his drink.

"It's not funny; I've felt bad about this for months." he tried to be serious, but the smile never left his face. As you nodded with a smirk on your lip, you turned from him after he grabbed the glass, "Y/N, I'm serious." He wasn't; he could never stay upset with you, even in a joking manner.

"I guess I'll just go back to my apartment then; I don't want to bring back any of your past shame." your body once again turned towards him as you leaned down over to hug him, "Bye, Hughes, I'll make sure to only wear this when you're out of town." He let out a sarcastic 'ha.' "You don't have to leave; I can control myself. I promise." he rolled his eyes and slowly got up to stop you.

"I don't know; I think the only logical answer is to wear your Drew sweats." You had pivoted and ran to his room before he could reply. You had bugged him countless times to try them on over the past months; you had just wanted to see if they were worth the hype because the black sweats had been sold out forever (and maybe, subconsciously, because of your past love for Justin Bieber). And every time he said no, you took this as your opportunity to try them and bug him simultaneously.

Being in Quinn's room was familiar to you. You had spent most days at one of the two apartments, and sometimes that meant laying in his bed watching TV after he had just returned from a string of away games or after a challenging game or practice. You had worn his clothes before, too; it was always in a platonic way, the first time you had locked yourself out after being out on a run when it started raining. You lost your key on the run, and the concierge was gone for the night. You had also spent the night; he let you sleep in his bed and took the couch.

As you ran into the room, you closed the door behind you and walked into the closet, closing that door, too. You had found the sweats and slowly walked out of the closet. There was no sight of Quinn, and the bedroom door was still closed. You walked towards the door, sweats in your hand, as you called out to him, "Q? Are you -" But you were cut off as he tackled you onto the bed next to you.

The two of you lay on the bed laughing before turning to face each other. The laughter died down, and you were smiling and looking at each other. The two of you lay there for a while, not saying anything until you broke the silence, "Your eyes are a different colour every time I see you, but today I can see every shade in them." You don't know why you needed to share your observation with him, but it felt right. "You cut your hair." He reached out to tuck a strand behind your ear and play with the end of another. His voice had been so him, soft yet dominant. It was true; you had gotten a slight trim the day before and a few longer layers at the bottom of your hair, a small and simple detail that could have been missed. In fact, he was the only person to notice; none of your classmates or even Andrew, although over Facetime, had noticed.

The room felt heavy as you looked from his hand in your hair to his eyes again, stopping to look at his lips for a second. And when you reached his gaze, it was unreadable. "I -" A phone began to ring as Quinn was about to speak. You could see a shift in his demeanour as you continued to look at him. He got up to find the cause of the sound. "It's your phone." He walked it over to you before heading out to the living room again. The phone illuminated ANDREW CALLING.

You looked towards the empty doorway as you brought the phone up to your ear. "Hey you," your playful voice sounded forced, and the smile on your lips was even more so. "Hey, I have a surprise for you. The notification said it was in the lobby." This shocked you, not only because it was a surprise but because Andrew was never one for small gestures. It was always something big like him ordering 4 dozen roses to your desk after your fourth date. But he had never just sent you or given you something randomly.

Andrew could be a sweet guy; you worked together before he asked you to have dinner with him. You knew you were moving and had no intention of starting anything serious before moving to Vancouver, but he had been so persistent, and it felt nice to have a distraction with all the craziness of moving. But living in different provinces has brought no comfort to either of you. It felt like pen pals most of the time. You would call him a few times a week and talk for an hour before he had to go. There had been a few times where you could have sworn you heard someone else there, but the times you mentioned it, it felt like the fight had been more trouble than the issue itself.

And maybe subconsciously, you felt like a hypocrite. Your relationship with Quinn was platonic, but the number of times you were confused as a couple in public could be seen another way. In fact, you hated to admit it, but it felt like you communicated more with Quinn when he was away than with your boyfriend.

"There's something for me in the lobby of my apartment complex? Andrew, what did you do? It's 7pm?" As you started talking, Quinn walked into view, bringing your drinks and extending to you. "It's a surprise; you should go get it now; I'm assuming it's just on the concierge desk based on the picture." You stared up at Quinn as you listened to Andrew, "Okay, I'll be down in a minute, and I'll call you back once I have it." The phone call was quickly over.

"What did you order?" Quinn asked with a smile, used to all the packages you've received. A few that had been too heavy for you to carry on your own that Quinn had taken himself. Even when they hadn't been too heavy, he would carry them for you if he was there. "I'm not sure, Andrew sent it to me." You could have sworn there was a look on his face that was gone as quickly as it appeared. "You want me to go with you in case you need help?" there was no hesitation in your quick reply of 'yes.'

As the two of you walked down the hall, you were overly aware of the distance between you. It was no different than it had been in the past, but there was a particular charge. The words shared and unshared in the bedroom hung heavy. "So I never got to even put the sweats on," you joked while waiting in front of the elevator. "You can borrow them when we get back up if you want," his answer made your breath hitch. He had never let you try them on, much less borrow them.

He looked at you, letting you walk into the elevator first. The ride down was quick and quiet, but how you looked at each other made everything race faster. Your heartbeat quickened as you saw his slight deviation towards your lips before making their way back up. "Quinn," your voice came out as a low plea; whether it was to continue or to stop was uncertain. He stepped closer to you as the two of you stood in silence for a brief moment before the doors opened. As you stepped out, your heart felt heavy.

As you made your way towards the front desk, you saw the back of a man at the desk, but when you heard the voice, it made you freeze. Andrew, he was in your lobby waiting for you, Quinn failed to notice your pause and ran into you. However, before you could tip forward, Quinn had steadied you with a hand on your arm and waist. Andrew called out when he turned around.

"Andrew! What are you doing here?" You didn't miss the look he gave the sight of the two of you or how his gaze only lingered on Quinn's hand on your waist as he walked closer. You unhooked yourself from Quinn to hug Andrew. The hug was stiff; he held himself higher, and his head hadn't moved from the position it had been in before. You figured he was still looking at Quinn.

"I wanted to surprise you; we settled a case earlier than expected, so I took a few days off." You had pulled yourself to his side, a view of both him and Quinn. They kept looking towards each other, completely ignoring you. "Well, Andrew, this is my friend I always tell you about, Quinn. He introduced himself the day I moved in, remember? He lives next door to me." Andrew smiled down at you as you continued. "Quinn, you remember Andrew." Quinn looked from you to Andrew before extending his hand. "Good to see you again, man." Andrew hesitated before shaking his hand.

There was a quick silence before Quinn grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen, excusing himself, "I have to make a phone call; I'll see you around," but before he could walk off, you gave him a side hug goodbye. You had done it a thousand times before, and feeling like you couldn't because Andrew was there didn't feel like a good sign, so you did it anyway. "I'll text you," you quietly said as you let go.

The next few days had been uneventful, showing Andrew around Vancouver. The hallway had felt unusually empty each time you passed, hoping to run into Quinn. A string of away games was starting that Monday, and when you came back from dropping off Andrew at the airport on Sunday night, you noticed the bag sitting in front of your apartment door.

The black sweats were inside with a note, 'I'll pick them up when I'm back. Enjoy :). ~ Q" He never asked for them back

———————————————————————

210 notes · View notes

fushisagi · 1 year ago

Text

miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease

୨୧ ━━ ❛ what am i to you, atsumu? ❜

word count ⋆ 12.6k (12,607) genre ⋆ fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, college au ━ gn!reader

the question comes to him one autumn night, surrounded by his friends and the chilly november breeze, asked by, who he assumes to be, just another nobody looking for money: what is it that you desire most, boy? the psychic asks, her saccharine smile forgotten when he looks into the crystal ball and all he ends up seeing is you. alternatively: miya atsumu is not in love. what the hell? who would ever suggest something like that?

warnings ⋆ alcohol consumption, mutual pining, denial of feelings!!! lots of it!! and with this denial comes some stupid decisions!!! author’s note ⋆ ive actually like never been to the psychic before so if its inaccurate im so sorry ..... it’s not really a big part of the plot though so hopefully u can overlook it 😭

o. Desire

This is a scam, is Atsumu’s first thought when he takes a seat inside the tent and finds himself face-to-face with a crystal ball.

People like this are dangerous — his twin brother never lets anyone forget it. They take advantage of an individual’s fear of the unknown and they make money off it. It’s genius, because even the strongest people can become weak to something as mundane as self-proclaimed clairvoyants setting base near a college campus.

Atsumu supposes he’s no exception. Even if Bokuto was the one who forced him to do this in the first place.

“Hello,” the woman greets, her hair pinned into a tight bun. “You’re here for a reading?”

“Sure,” Atsumu huffs, shivering when the cold breeze sneaks into the tent. He really should’ve worn a thicker jacket.

When he looks up from the table, the woman gives him a smile. It’s analytical, as if all he needed to do was sit down for her to know everything about him. He fidgets in his seat, growing more uncomfortable under her gaze.

“So,” she says, clasping her hands together and resting them on the table. “What is it that you desire most, boy?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your greatest desire,” she repeats patiently.

Atsumu blinks before tilting his head. “Um, I’m not—”

“I’m sure you know,” she says. “Is it strength? Power? Love?”

All colour drains from Atsumu’s face. The psychic smiles wickedly.

Atsumu thinks this may be the end of him. He never liked it when people acted like they knew more about his intentions than he did, and it only took mere minutes before the woman figured him out.

His hand twitches. He would feel a lot better if you were here—

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue, “bingo.”

i. Strength

After a borderline homicidal game of rock, paper, scissors, Sakusa lands himself a new roommate.

Move-in day comes two weeks later and Atsumu sits in the lobby of the building, waiting for your car to pull into the parking lot.

He notes the time — it’s five minutes past 8:30, making you more than half an hour late — before grumbling under his breath and continuing to scroll through his feed. When Instagram notifies him that he’s all caught up, he exits the app and opens Twitter in hopes that something will be able to entertain him until you show up. He likes some tweets, retweets a few more, and terrorizes Suna before he grows bored at the lack of anything interesting on his timeline.

Another glance at the time. He scowls. It’s only been two minutes.

Atsumu debates asking Sakusa if he knows what’s happened to you. When he opens their message thread, he raises an eyebrow at how unbelievably one-sided their conversations are, but he decides that’s a problem for another day. Your absence is more important to Atsumu than Sakusa’s terrible conversational skills ever will be.

(He’ll bother Sakusa about it later).

He’s about to send a long string of emojis when an incredulous voice reaches his ears.

“Tsumu?”

He looks up and immediately pockets his phone with a grin. “You’re late.”

You adjust the box of donuts in your hands and squint at him as if his smile is as blinding as the sun. “I slept through my alarm. What the hell are you doing here?”

Atsumu gestures to his outfit. “What does it look like?”

You stare blankly.

“Seriously?” he scoffs. “I told you last night I’d help you move in. How’d you forget? Am I that forgettable? You wound me, I—”

“Shut up,” you say, shifting your weight. Atsumu’s eyes flicker to the sticker on the box, and he tries his best not to frown when he notices you’ve written Sakusa’s name in calligraphy with a heart at the end. “Of course I remember you offering to help because I spent my entire night telling you it was fine.”

“You expect me to believe that you can bring all your shit in by yourself? You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Thank you, Tsumu, I can always count on you to make me feel like I’ve been shot by Cupid’s arrow,” you quip, brushing past him to get to the elevator, and as if it’s second nature, he follows. “I can’t believe people walk around campus calling you sweet.”

“I never said you looked bad,” he says. “I think the dried drool on your chin is pretty cute, actually.”

“Whatever,” you hurriedly wipe your face. “Speaking of bad, what on Earth are you wearing?”

Atsumu knows full well you’re not complimenting him, but he decides to treat your comment as if you have. He beams, picking at the sweatpants you eye with disgust before walking into the elevator with you.

“It’s my mover outfit!”

“Your mover outfit,” you deadpan. “Disregarding whatever that means — those sweatpants are baggier than Kenma’s eyebags. And they do nothing for your ass.”

He smirks. “You were checking out my ass?”

You avoid eye contact, feigning indifference, but Atsumu’s known you for too long and immediately recognizes your fluster by the way you tug at the hem of your clothing.

“No,” you deny curtly, straightening your posture when the elevator doors open to show Sakusa’s floor. “It’s just hard not to notice when those sweats are ridiculously baggy. Seriously, are you trying to put something in there? I could fit a month’s worth of groceries in those.”

You’re walking swiftly, eager to get to your new apartment and end the conversation. The both of you are well aware that Atsumu’s more than capable of catching up with you, but he hangs back, preferring to watch you babble while he trails behind.

You clutch the donuts closer to your body as words tumble out of your mouth — a list of things that could fit in his sweats, including two jugs of milk and a family size pack of chips — and Atsumu can’t stop the lopsided smile from appearing on his face.

“Maybe a carton of eggs, too,” he suggests.

“Oh, I wouldn’t trust you with eggs,” you say sharply.

“Why not?”

“Are you really asking me that? Last month I lent you my blanket and you gave it back to me with a hole in it.”

“For the last time,” Atsumu begins, quickening so he’s side-by-side with you, “that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“…Alright.”

“Y/N,” he whines. “I’m serious! None of that was on me — I even bought you a new blanket! Would Samu have done that? I don’t think so—”

“Actually—”

“The point is,” Atsumu interrupts, throwing you a glare before continuing, “blame Samu. Whenever something bad happens, blame him. That’s what I always do.”

“Spoken like a true, responsible individual.”

“Hey!” he protests. “I’m responsible!”

You open your mouth to deny his claims, but the pout he plasters over his face is enough for you to give in. Too tired to give him something as golden as a verbal agreement, you opt for changing the subject. “Do you think Sakusa will like the donuts?”

Atsumu frowns. “Why does it matter? They’re donuts.”

You grow annoyed at his impertinence. “I want him to like me, you moron.”

His expression sours further. “He’s your friend.”

“And I won a game of rock, paper, scissors, so now I’m his roommate,” you remark. “There’s a difference between being friends with someone and living with them. I mean, would you want to live with Bokuto?”

Atsumu’s answer is swift. “Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you say, “I need us to get along.”

You stop in front of a door and begin searching your pockets for your key. There’s a pinch between your eyebrows, the box trembles as you struggle to balance it with one hand, and your clothes are a mess, but underneath the fluorescent light of the hallway, Atsumu can’t help but think you almost look angelic.

He shakes the thought away, squashes it beneath his foot until the remnants of it have been absorbed by the carpet.

“The last time I saw you this nervous was when you asked out that barista,” he muses.

You dig your hand into the breast pocket of your shirt and huff when you find nothing. “What are you implying?”

Atsumu stares pointedly at the sticker on the box. Your face morphs into one of horror.

“Are you dense?”

“Calligraphy, Y/N. I’ve never seen you write calligraphy in my entire life.”

“I was trying something out!”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

You smack him on the shoulder. “I was being thoughtful,” you grunt, softening when Atsumu winces and rubs the spot where you hit him. “He’s my friend, and that’s all he ever will be.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Your eyes leave him for a millisecond, flickering to somewhere else on his face before returning his gaze once more. “Of course,” you say softly, “Besides, I—”

The door swings open.

“You’re loud,” Sakusa deadpans in the doorway. His eyes travel down to the donuts. “Are those for me?”

You hand them over to him. “Yeah, I didn’t know what you liked, so they’re all assorted.”

Sakusa hums in thanks before tilting his head at Atsumu. “Why’re you here?”

“To help them move in,” Atsumu grins, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it. “I know you’re going to the drycleaners, and I couldn’t let Y/N do this all by themselves.”

Sakusa shrugs and turns to go further into the apartment. “Sounds good to me. I’d rather not have to press those nasty elevator buttons multiple times just so I can come down and get your stuff,” he gives you the best apologetic look he can muster. “Have fun, though.”

Before you can go on a tangent about how Sakusa should be more welcoming, Atsumu pipes up, “Yeah, don’t worry! ‘S all in good hands,” he nudges you with his elbow. “Right? Your stuff can’t be that heavy.”

Atsumu, not for the first time and certainly not the last, stands corrected.

Not only is your stuff heavy, but there’s much more than he expected.

With each trip down to the parking lot, his muscles grow strained, and he feels the fatigue threaten to droop his eyelids shut. But, in the corner of his eyes, he sees your persistence to get this over and done with, and Atsumu decides it won’t hurt to push through.

His complaining and wailing can wait until later.

After you place the last box into your new bedroom, you turn to him while wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Thank you,” you say breathlessly.

He goes to tease you, to say that you owe him now, that you’ll be indebted to him for life.

But what comes out of his mouth instead is: “‘Course. Call me whenever you want, and I’ll be there.”

Atsumu calls it a housewarming gift. Sakusa says there is hardly anything warming about it.

It referring to the group of boys gathered in the living room — your friends on good days, the bane of your existence on all the others — with their limbs strewn about and their soda cans sitting too close to the edge of the coffee table. It’s an odd sight for Sakusa to have this many people over on a Thursday night, but Atsumu insisted, and he caught Sakusa on a good day when he asked if he could hold a movie night at the apartment to celebrate your new accommodations.

You’re sure Sakusa regrets it now. He sits in his armchair with a permanent scowl, swatting Hinata away when the boy reaches to fix the crease between Sakusa’s brows. If looks could kill, Atsumu would’ve been dropped dead ten minutes ago.

He covers his fear with a grin, but out of the corner of his mouth, he says to you, “Help me.”

You snicker. “You’re on your own, dude.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

“What? But Bokuto calls you that, too!”

“Yeah, but it’s Bokuto.”

“I have no idea what you mean by that.”

Atsumu only tsks, forcibly ending the conversation by suggesting to the room that they should all play a game to decide who’ll prepare all the popcorn. A chorus of agreements is what he gets in response, along with someone complaining about how he should be spared due to his gruelling volleyball practice, and another person expressing his sympathies for the future loser.

Atsumu prepares the ladder game, and after he’s done, he looks at everyone with fiery hot intensity, an expression similar to one he wears during a match. “Remember,” he declares, “whoever loses can’t complain.”

Luck isn’t on his side tonight.

“What the hell!” he screeches once the reality of his defeat settles in.

Osamu, far too smug for Atsumu’s liking, quips, “I thought you said no complaining.”

The noise that leaves Atsumu’s mouth is something akin to a pathetic but animalistic growl. He goes to protest, even raising his hand to list off reasons why he’s been wronged — someone must’ve cheated, or maybe everyone in this room has a ruthless vendetta against him — but just as the words are about to leave his lips, his eyes land on you.

You challenge him to complain with a look, and he suddenly gets a much better idea.

“Y/N,” he says sweetly, growing pleased at your uneasiness. “As the host of this housewarming party, it’s only fair that you help me, too.”

“What?” you squawk, leaning forward as if you’ve misheard him. “But you were the one who suggested doing all of this! How is it now on me to help—”

“Well, he wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t for you,” Sakusa muses.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you taking his side? What happened to roommate solidarity?”

“You just made that up,” Sakusa replies. “Besides, this thing will go by faster if two people prepare the popcorn, and I don’t think Miya wants anyone else other than you.”

Atsumu shifts uncomfortably at the implication, and he involuntarily commits your surprised expression to memory.

(When he goes to sleep later that night, your surprise is all he sees against the darkness of his eyelids).

“Other than me—?”

“To make the popcorn,” Sakusa drawls matter-of-factly.

You blink. “Right.” You look at Atsumu, and he shrugs dumbly, unsure of how else to react to your sudden change in behaviour.

To him, you have always been easy to read, but right now, he’s not entirely sure if there’s a word for the expression on your face. He yearns to press a hand to your cheek to melt the malaise away, to be rid of it forever so he can see you smiling again.

Something in his chest twists.

“Right!” you repeat, more loudly this time, and startling the rest of your friends. You slap your hands on your lap before standing and grabbing Atsumu’s wrist to pull him away. “I guess I’m helping you make popcorn. You owe me one, Miya.”

Your skin is warmer than usual, threatening to burn him until your fingerprints are marked onto his skin.

(Behind him, Suna stage-whispers, “You are so whipped, Y/N.”)

Your touch disappears the moment you’ve both crossed the threshold into the kitchenette. Atsumu flexes his hand, trying to get rid of an urge in his veins he can’t quite explain.

“Hey,” you say casually, back turned to him as you dig through the cabinets for the popcorn packets. “Did you finish that essay for literature class?”

Atsumu awkwardly clears his throat and begins playing with the settings on the microwave. “The paper?”

“Yes, the paper,” you say. “The one I told you to start two weeks ago so you wouldn’t end up sending a half-assed essay two minutes before the deadline?”

“Why are you talking like you think I didn’t start it yet?”

“Because I know you, Tsumu,” you reply, shutting the cabinet with your elbow and ungracefully dropping the packets onto the counter beside him. “And I lost faith in your ability to listen to me a long time ago.”

“How rude. I always listen to you,” he sticks his nose in the air like a scorned, evil, cartoon antagonist, “I just don’t take all your suggestions. There’s a difference.”

“You make my life so much harder,” you huff, inputting a minute-thirty into the microwave. “I honestly think I lose ten years of my lifespan whenever you tell me you’ve gotten yourself into another dilemma.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I’m sure you only lose, like, three at most.”

“No, it’s definitely ten,” you say. “You worry me too much, Miya.”

The smile on Atsumu’s face, previously smug and confident, softens.

“Seriously, though,” you continue, jabbing a finger into his sternum. “The paper? It’s due tonight.”

He flicks your nose, snorting when you pull a face. “I sent it in this morning.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Don’t act so shocked!”

“Well, this is, like, the first time you’ve ever done something even remotely responsible, so—”

“I thought we both agreed I’m a generally responsible person.”

Your silence is enough of a response.

Atsumu gasps just as the microwave beeps, allowing you to ignore his stunned expression in order to begin preparing another bag of kernels.

“Give me one reason—”

“The blanket—”

“—that isn’t the blanket,” he says sourly. “That doesn’t count. I told you that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“Do you want a list? Because I have one.”

“Are you serious or are you just fucking with me?”

“Osamu and I have a Google Doc.”

Another gasp. You roll your eyes.

“Now you’re in kahoots with my brother? What’s next? Planning my downfall with Suna?”

“I’m sure he’s fine doing that himself without my help.”

He whines, stomping his foot when you only stare back in amusement. “Don’t be so unrepentant, Y/N!”

You dump the contents of the hot popcorn bags into a large bowl for everyone to share. “Unrepentant? Was that the word on your word-of-the-day calendar?”

“Shut up. You know only Kuroo has lame stuff like that,” Atsumu grumbles, throwing the last popcorn packet into the faulty brick of power you and Sakusa call a microwave. “I used it in my essay. Thesauruses are a godsend. It really came in handy when I was writing about the flower symbolism in the book. Y’know what’s even better, though? SparkNotes.”

You tilt your head, studying Atsumu with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh.”

“What d’you mean huh?”

“Nothing,” you say innocently. “I just didn’t think you’d choose that essay topic, that’s all.”

“It was the easiest one,” he states. You hum in agreement, but he can sense you falling into a state of pondering before it even happens, so he lightly pokes your shoulder in hopes it’ll be enough to keep you from drifting too far from his reach. “Why, what did you think I picked?”

He can tell you’re debating what to tell him, letting a few seconds pass before you give in. “I thought you’d do the one that centred more around…” you trail off, clenching and unclenching your jaw, “the love aspect of it all.”

He blinks. “Why?”

Childishly, you retort, “Why not?”

Atsumu licks his lips. “Well, you’re always telling me to write what I know. And I may not know a whole lot about flowers, but I know more about those than, y’know, love.”

Something passes over your face, the same thing he saw when Sakusa said something — implied something — in the living room. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “I’ve had relationships, sure, but none that made me feel anything like— like that.”

You drum your fingers against the bowl. “None at all?”

“None at all.”

You click your tongue and stare at the microwave. Its buzz has become more prominent in your silence, a mocking hum hanging over the air as you contemplate and Atsumu stares, waiting impatiently for a word to slip past your lips.

But there’s nothing. Instead, the microwave beeps again, indicating that the last of the popcorn is ready.

“That’s good to know,” you say lightly. At least, that’s what you attempt, but you sound different, like a parasite has found solace in your vocal cords and fiddled with everything Atsumu’s familiar with.

“It is?”

“Yeah,” you nod, handing the bowl over to him. Popcorn threatens to spill but Atsumu can’t bring himself to care. “Hey, be careful. What, is it too heavy? Are you too weak to carry it?”

“It’s popcorn,” Atsumu rasps.

You eye him oddly, as if he’s the one whose behaviour should be examined under a microscope. “Don’t spill it everywhere. Sakusa’ll get pissed, and we’re already pushing it with this movie night thing.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Of course,” you agree. “But if you need me—”

“I know,” he interjects.

Simple promises are often uttered during private moments between you and Atsumu — an oath to be there for the other, to stand by their side no matter what. The words soothe him when they’re said aloud; he knows, underneath all the teasing and the bickering and the irritated eyerolls, is your pinky and his, intertwined.

And despite the voice in his head taunting him about a secret he’s unaware of, he allows the promise to enchant him.

I’ll be there for you.

“Do you need help?”

Atsumu grunts, adjusting your arm around his neck as he opens the car door. “No, I’m fine.”

“Thanks for picking them up,” Aran says, voice loud above the frat house’s music, “I know you were tired from practice, but—”

“It’s fine. I probably would’ve killed you if you didn’t call me, anyway.”

“Osamu said you’d say that.”

Atsumu expertly brushes off the statement, gently ushering you into the passenger’s seat and putting your seatbelt on with gentle fingers. Behind him, Aran watches the movements with thoughtful eyes and a quirk of his eyebrows.

“The last time they got this drunk was at the fall festival last year,” he muses. “For your sake, I hope it doesn’t happen again.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hm?”

“For your sake,” Atsumu echoes, turning to face Aran once the door’s been shut and he’s made sure you’re sleeping soundlessly with your head resting against the cold window. Atsumu stands pin-straight, his posture contrasting the way Aran stands opposite him, relaxed with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “What’s that mean?”

Aran laughs, like he’s unsure if this is a serious question. “Well, I mean… they’re always asking for you whenever they get drunk like this.”

“I guess so, yeah.”

“That’s why you got here in record time, right?” Off Atsumu’s questioning gaze, Aran continues, “I called you five minutes ago, and your place is a fifteen-minute drive away. And you’re not in your pajamas, even though you said you’d change into them the moment you got home.”

“I was in the area,” Atsumu says weakly.

“Doing what?”

“Getting dinner.”

“Why didn’t you just get something delivered to your apartment?”

“Is it illegal to want to pick up the food myself?”

Aran raises his hands up in defence. “No, it’s not, but it’s also not illegal to say you knew this would happen,” he shrugs. “You knew they’d need you Atsumu, so you came. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Before Atsumu can force a response from his throat, Aran has already slipped back into the party, leaving Atsumu alone on the street. With an annoyed huff, he stomps to the driver’s side, muttering irked questions under his breath about what Aran could possibly mean. He opens the door with more aggression than necessary, only softening when he sees you stir underneath the jacket he’s draped over you to keep you warm.

He unlocks his phone when he feels a buzz in his pocket.

[00:30] Atsumu: are you still awake?

[00:48] Sakusa: Yes. Why?

Atsumu knows that your apartment’s farther from here than his, and he’s sure that by the time he arrives, Sakusa won’t answer the door because he’ll grow tired of Atsumu’s lack of response and go to bed.

The decision is made when he takes a right instead of a left, when he pulls into a parking lot that isn’t yours, when he carries your body up the stairwell and into his bed with ease.

Everything else comes as routine. He tucks the blanket under your chin, moves the glass of water so it’s too far for you to accidentally knock over in the morning, and leaves a change of clothes at the foot of the bed.

Atsumu likes routine. He likes the predictability of it all.

A groggy voice stops him from leaving the room.

“Tsumu?”

“Hey,” he whispers, crouching so he’s eye-level with you. “I hope you don’t mind I brought you back here.”

You blink sleepily at him, too inebriated and fatigued to acknowledge his words. “You’re a really good person, y’know,” you say languidly.

He smiles, amused. “Really?”

“Yeah. Thank you for picking me up.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

“It’s not.”

“I’m sure you would’ve been fine without me. Omi could’ve picked you up, couldn’t he? Samu could’ve, too.”

“I know, but you’re the one who always does,” you respond, nuzzling further into the pillow. “You’ve—you’ve helped me a lot.”

You shakily reach a hand to his face, playing with the strands of hair that fall to his forehead. He relaxes, eyelids growing heavy at the feeling of your featherlike touch against his cool skin.

“You’ve brightened up my life, I think,” your voice is muffled, but it rings in Atsumu’s ears clear as day, almost as loud as his quickening heart rate. “I appreciate you a lot more than you know.”

ii. Power

He watches with bated breath as the ball cuts through the air while gravity begins to pull Hinata back to Earth. Everything unfolds in slow motion; everything has faded into white noise.

With a slam, the volleyball connects with the ground, and it’s only when he’s pulled into a hug does the reverie shatter. Like being hauled out from underwater, the roars of the crowd flood his ears as Bokuto begins jumping on the balls of his feet and Hinata comes rushing over to them with a triumphant shout.

On the other side of Bokuto, Sakusa smiles, rolling his eyes fondly when Hinata and Bokuto begin making post-game plans to celebrate their victory. Atsumu, on the other hand, is uncharacteristically silent as he searches the bleachers with a cloudy look in his eyes.

He’s snapped out of it once again when Bokuto tugs on his wrist so they can go and listen to what their coach has to say.

Atsumu isn’t a stranger to winning — he used to get drunk on this sort of stuff, the exhilarating rush that shot through his veins after every successful game. He basks in the crowd’s excitement and admiration, because to be fawned over is the closest to love he’s ever been (if he could even call it that), but once the adrenaline cuts him off and he’s left alone in the locker room, it all fizzles out.

Something’s missing at the end of all this. Usually, the void in his chest is insignificant enough for him to brush off. However, today is different.

It’s abnormal for the power of the win to dwindle into nothingness only minutes after the game ends, but the blue moon has risen tonight, and now everything feels weird. The cheers aren’t enough to keep him from searching the gymnasium for a familiar face, and he itches to get to his phone in the locker room when he can’t find who he’s looking for.

“Why do you look like we’ve lost?” Bokuto asks. “C’mon, man! Smile! We just won! Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course I am,” Atsumu grunts.

(But…)

But.

The adrenaline shoots through him again when a voice he knows all too well catches his attention over the noise.

“Hey!” you rush towards them, dishevelled. “Before you get mad, I know I missed the game, I took a nap and slept through it, fuck, I am never going to stay up late playing Fortnite with you again, Tsumu, you’ve ruined my sleep schedule, but—” you huff, trying to catch your breath as you hand Atsumu a bag, “I’m sorry that I didn’t come. Congrats on winning, I heard the shouts from down the street.”

Atsumu smiles and peers into the bag. “What is this?”

“Mochi,” you answer. “A celebratory gift for my favourite setter.”

“I’m the only setter you know.”

“Which is why you’re my favourite.”

Atsumu snorts but hugs the bag to his chest, like it’s his most prized possession and he’d drag it along to the grave with him. “Thank you.”

If someone were to ask Atsumu if he liked the pedestal he’s put on after a match, he’d say yes. Of course he does. He quite likes it on top of the world.

But you match his joyful smile with one of your own and Atsumu finds himself rethinking his answer. “Anytime.”

The top of the world may be nice, but it is nothing compared to being on the ground next to you.

“You know what they say. With great power comes great responsibility.”

“Would you relax?” Sakusa snarls. “You’re in charge of us for a day. Get your head out of your ass.”

On the floor, Hinata lays like a starfish as he stares up at the ceiling, cheeks tainted a bright pink hue. “I think power’s gotten to your head.”

Atsumu waves him off. “I think this is the best practice we’ve ever had.”

Their captain had to run out five minutes into practice — relationship problems is what he grumbled to Atsumu before leaving him in charge without a second thought, much to the rest of the team’s dismay.

“I hope you’re never put it in charge again,” Bokuto complains before downing the rest of his water.

“Don’t be dramatic—”

“Do you know how gruelling this practice must be for Hinata to be tired?”

“Give us a break,” Hinata pleads, shifting his position so he’s on his knees. “Please. I’ll buy you lunch for the rest of the month if you end our suffering.”

Atsumu pretends to ponder the offer and grows more amused as Hinata begins to twitch nervously. “Okay, fine,” he relents.

Hinata cries with glee, hugging Atsumu’s legs before pushing himself off the floor and rushing out of the gymnasium — whether it’s to refill his water bottle or hide until he’s found, Atsumu may never know. With a snort, Atsumu grabs his own bottle amongst the rest on the bench, promising Bokuto absentmindedly that he’ll go easy on them for the rest of the day.

“I want to have at least a little energy left for the party at Kuroo’s tonight,” Bokuto adds, his smile widening when Atsumu nods in agreement. “See, I knew you’d get it!”

Sakusa takes a seat on the bench. “Are you going to the party, Miya?”

“Yeah, Y/N’s forcing me to come with,” Atsumu says. “How about you?”

Bokuto answers for him. “I’m making him come!” he exclaims. “You’ll have so much fun, Omi, you don’t have to worry.”

Sakusa deadpans, “I’m only staying for five minutes.”

Bokuto waves off his iciness with a flippant hand. “I’ll convince you to stay longer.”

“I really doubt that.”

“Don’t underestimate me!” Bokuto huffs. He turns away from Sakusa before he can continue to argue and focusses on Atsumu. “It’s good that you’re coming too, Tsum-Tsum! Maybe you can finally meet the guy Y/N’s going on a date with.”

Atsumu halts, hand tightening around his bottle. “What?”

“Some guy from their Psychology class asked them out a few days ago,” Bokuto says obliviously. “I think it was the night you picked them up? I don’t know. I think he was nice, though. Y/N probably already told you about it.”

You didn’t.

Atsumu forces a grin on his face. “Right, they did.”

Sakusa studies his expression with pinched eyebrows.

Atsumu’s cheeks hurt for the rest of practice, a consequence of the cheerful façade he’s plastered, but the pain subsides — if only for a moment — when he sees you outside the gymnasium, carrying your favourite boba drink in one hand, and his favourite in the other.

“Hey!” you greet, handing him the drink. “How was practice?”

“Awful,” Hinata mopes with a pout. “Your boyfriend here was running it like the navy.”

You frown. Atsumu blanches. “My boyfriend…?”

“Yeah!” Hinata slaps Atsumu on the back. “Him.”

All colour drains from your face. Your grip on your cup loosens for a split second before tightening it again in panic. You look from Hinata, the picture of innocence, to Atsumu, who only stares back, just as bewildered.

Hinata seems to take the hint as his eyes flicker between the two of you in confusion. “Sorry, I… I overheard Bokuto saying you were going on a date with someone, so I assumed—”

“Date?” you interrupt frantically, arms flapping to deny the words that have recklessly tumbled from Hinata’s mouth. “With who— with Atsumu? He’s not— we’re not— I’m not— we’re—”

“We’re friends,” Atsumu finishes, saving you from your stammering. You look at him gratefully, and he can only offer a weak smile in return. “I don’t know why you’d think we’re dating, Shoyo.”

“Sorry—”

“They’re going on a date with someone else.”

You narrow your eyes. “What do you—?”

“Oh, hey,” Sakusa says as he walks out of the doors. He tugs on the string of his mask to make sure it’s secure before nodding at you. “Did you stop by the grocery store yet?”

Atsumu’s words are long forgotten when realization engulfs your figure at the speed of light. “Oh, no! I took a nap and—”

“You really need to fix your sleep schedule.”

“I’ll have you know I slept four hours last night.”

“…That’s not a good thing.”

“It’s an hour more than usual.”

The genuine concern is evident in Sakusa’s eyes before he rubs his temples with a sigh. “Okay, whatever. Let’s go to the store before we head home, I need to buy more protein powder.”

“Ay, ay, captain.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You snicker then turn to Atsumu with a smile he’d move mountains for. “I’ll see you later, Tsumu?”

“Yeah, sure,” he murmurs. “Don’t take too long to get ready.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you say, patting his cheek. “Thanks for agreeing to drive me there and back.”

He finds himself involuntarily leaning into your touch. “Don’t mention it.”

Your touch lingers for a second too long before you salute him in goodbye and rush to follow Sakusa to your car. Atsumu watches as your figure gets smaller and smaller, a smile on his face as you glance over your shoulder and stick your tongue out when you catch him staring.

He flips you off and makes sure to stick his tongue out, too, in hopes that it’ll make you laugh loud enough for him to hear.

(He doesn’t notice the mischievous glint in Sakusa’s eyes, nor does he catch his name slipping past Sakusa’s lips).

(But he does notice you tilt your head, lost in thought, before you look at him again, attempting to figure him out despite the distance.

He thinks nothing of it).

Just after his 9am lecture, someone asks Atsumu out on a date.

She’s nice and easy on the eyes; a little timid, but he supposes that’s just the affect he has on people. Big man on campus is what he’s always referred to as, until they realize that he’s nothing if not a goofball off-court. Still, the girl — Miwa is what she said her name was — doesn’t know that yet, so Atsumu gives her the benefit of the doubt.

And he says yes.

At 11:00, the whole team has caught wind of his evening plans, and Sakusa texts him to tell him he’s an idiot. Atsumu frowns, asks why, but Sakusa doesn’t reply.

At 6:00, an hour before his date, he shows up on your doorstep with a bag of clothes and a tie loose around his neck. His left pant leg is tucked into his sock and the other is haphazardly cuffed; his hair is all over the place, sticking up at the back as the result of a hair-gel disaster.

You stare at him with pinched eyebrows. “What do you need?”

“I’ve got a date,” he explains frantically. “I need your help.”

You hesitantly let him in.

At 6:15 is when the argument occurs. The reason why is something Atsumu can’t recall, only that it was something so small and insignificant that the argument shouldn’t have even happened in the first place. He thinks you may have been in a bad mood before he even arrived, but that doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t talked to him in the past five hours.

Oh, right. And the power goes out at 6:45.

He texts Miwa to cancel, promising to reschedule on a day where they won’t be talking to each other in the dark, but his phone dies before he gets a response. With a shrug, he tosses it onto the coffee table and makes a mental note to charge it as soon as the power comes back on, knowing full well that he’ll forget the reminder the second he makes it.

He should feel more guilty about the fact that he cares more about your absence than his postponed date.

Atsumu stares at your door for far too long before deciding that he’ll apologize to you — for what, he doesn’t know, but apologize first, ask questions later is his motto — once you’ve left your room. He’ll grovel and get on his knees and even humiliate himself if he has to, as long as it gets you to talk to him again, because God knows he’ll never survive this outage by himself.

(Also, you’re his best friend, and — Atsumu has never told anybody this — the last time you gave him the silent treatment, his chest physically hurt from not speaking to you that he vowed to never anger you again).

It’s 11:35, and you still haven’t left your room.

For the past few hours, you’ve been watching Netflix without headphones to torture a bored Atsumu, but the noises stopped about ten minutes ago, meaning your phone must’ve died too, so it’s only a matter of time before you leave your room in hopes of finding something to do.

Atsumu’s almost giddy at the thought.

At 11:50, he makes his move.

He hears the creaking of your door and your socked feet softly padding in the hallway. Atsumu’s always tried going to sleep early so he can hit the gym before it gets too busy the next morning, so you must’ve waited the latest you could bear with the assumption that he had fallen asleep on the couch.

Atsumu tiptoes to the end of the hallway, teeth bright compared to the darkness of the apartment, and his grin only widens when you finally see him.

You blink before scoffing, brushing past him to enter the kitchenette.

“Y/N,” he says, attempting to be stern but it comes off as a whine in his desperation. “Look at me.” You spare him a glance. Atsumu deems that’s good enough. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

He watches you open a cupboard and fill your glass with water. The seconds that pass by are agonizingly slow and Atsumu shifts uncomfortably when the silence drags on.

Finally, you look at him, unamused, and say, “What exactly are you sorry for?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Uh…”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to make your way back to your room.

“Wait! Wait,” Atsumu shouts, rushing over to block the exit. His eyes dart all over the kitchen in hopes the walls will have the answer to your question. You tap your foot impatiently, and it’s only when you go to open your mouth to tell him to move that he blurts out, “I’m sorry for eating the rest of your chocolate cake.”

You look at him incredulously. “That was you?”

“Yeah, I— wait, you’re not mad about that?”

“I am now!” you huff, using an arm to try and shove him out of the way, but he catches your wrist.

“Then I don’t get it!” he groans. “What did I do?”

You give him a once-over. “Well, what didn’t you do?”

“This is about the outfit?”

“You’ve cuffed your slacks, Tsumu. They’re cuffed. No sane person cuffs their slacks.”

He struggles to wrap his head around your response. “You’re mad,” he repeats, then gestures to his outfit confusedly, “about what I’m wearing.”

You seem to realize just how ridiculous it sounds uttered out loud, because you pout. “Not just that.”

“Then what else?”

You stumble over your words before you coherently state, “You’re going on a date.”

He frowns. “Yes.”

“You’re going on a date,” you say again when it’s obvious he’s not catching on to what you mean. When all Atsumu can manage is a perplexed sound, you add frustratedly, “You’re going on a date, which I don’t understand, since Sakusa told me that I didn’t need to worry anymore, but I guess he’s wrong because you came here asking for my help with looking nice on your night out with Miwa and—”

“Wait,” Atsumu interrupts, still puzzled. “What did Sakusa tell you?”

“He told me not to worry.”

“Worry about what?”

That snaps you out of it.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water. Then, you cross your arms over your chest, muttering out a response with feigned nonchalance, “Whatever.”

Atsumu protests, “Hey, I—”

“Where were you even going to take her?” you swiftly change the subject, and Atsumu decides that he’ll let it go — that’s what he’s been doing for a while, anyway, and another day really couldn’t hurt, could it?

“Dancing,” he says.

“Dancing?”

“Yes,” he responds, relaxing at the sight of your amusement. “I searched up unique date ideas and Google told me to take her dancing.”

“You should’ve just taken her to dinner,” you say. “Because you can’t dance.”

“That’s not true at all.”

“You were born with two left feet.”

“Quit lying, you’re only saying that because you’re mad at me.”

“I’m only telling you the truth!”

“I’m a good dancer!”

“You really aren’t. I thought that was established two weeks ago when we were playing Just Dance and you knocked over Aran’s vase.”

“That says nothing about my ability to—”

“Yes, it does.”

“I’ll prove it.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.”

“I’m serious,” he says, stretching his hand out for you to take.

You look at his palm and back up at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Not in any way, shape, or form.”

“We don’t even have music—”

“I’ll sing,” he shakes his hand. “C’mon, hurry up, my arm’s getting tired.”

Without a second thought, you interlace your fingers with his as he whisks you around the kitchen, his laugh loud when you yelp at his fast movements. He places his other hand on the small of your back to keep you from slipping on the tile as he leans to whisper into your ear.

“Any song requests?”

“None. You’re an awful singer,” you retort, bristling at the warmth of his breath.

“So, what are you saying? You’d rather waltz in silence?”

“Yes. And I wouldn’t even call this waltzing. We’re just sliding around the kitchen.”

“We’re waltzing,” Atsumu says firmly, daring you to argue. You only sigh, letting him pull you closer as you two clumsily move around the room. He sings your favourite song despite your insistence for him not to, humming the parts he doesn’t know and doing his best to hit every note.

You laugh into his chest, and he makes sure the sound is trapped in his ribcage so he’ll never have to go a day without it.

When the song reaches its end, you place your head on his shoulder, your breath piercing through his blazer and skin. “I’m sorry that I got mad at you,” you whisper despite the quiet, as if making your voice any louder will shatter the atmosphere. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs.

“It’s not, but thanks for trying to make me feel better,” you say timidly. “I guess I just got my hopes up.”

Atsumu tries to get the information out of you again, the very thing that’s been bothering you — and, as a result, him — for weeks. “About what?”

Your fingers tighten around his. “Nothing,” you answer, and if you notice just how much his posture deflates then you say nothing of it. “Can we stay like this for a little while?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. “We can stay for as long as you want.”

iii. Love

“You’re gonna get it in my eye!”

“Then stay still!”

“Just promise not to poke me.”

“I’ve already promised five times.”

“Then promise again!”

“Tsumu—” you sigh, slumping your shoulders as you meet his defiant gaze. “I promise I won’t get anything into your eyes or your mouth or your nostrils. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Atsumu narrows his eyes. “For some reason that doesn’t make me feel much better.”

You groan. “We’ve been over this millions of times—”

“Sue me for thinking you’re still mad at me.”

“I told you—”

“Sakusa got into my head,” he explains for the umpteenth time that evening, “he keeps on saying I’ve done something wrong, but he won’t tell me what, and he keeps looking at me as if I’ve committed a felony. His face keeps me up at night, it’s the reason why I’ve had so many nightmares recently—”

“Sakusa’s being a nuisance. Trust me, you haven’t done anything wrong,” you assure, your voice echoing off the walls of your tiny bathroom. “You have nothing to worry about, so stop acting like I’m trying to kill you with this face mask.”

He stares pointedly at the tub sitting next to you on the sink. “It’s scarily green,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Like, it’s Hulk-green. Nothing should be that green.”

“If you’re implying it’s poisonous, it’s not.”

“That’s what they want you to think.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you grumble, spreading the mask across his cheeks, ignoring his murmured whines about how cold it feels on his skin. “You weren’t acting like this last time.”

“You were using a different face mask last time,” he rebuts. “I liked the other one better than this one.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind the next time I go to the store,” you hum. “Maybe I’ll even take you with me, so you can choose the face mask. It’ll save me from your complaining in the future.”

“You love my complaining,” he replies quickly. “But I really should. I’d make your grocery trips so much more fun.”

“You’d get us kick out.”

“Would not!” Atsumu scoffs when you don’t even bother to hide your unconvinced mien and places his hands on either side of the marble countertop, trapping you against him and the sink. “I’ll prove it this weekend.”

You shake your head. “I’m not going this weekend. The fall festival is on Saturday, remember? I’m holding off spending money this week so I can buy a ton of cotton candy without feeling guilty.”

“Really?” he snorts. “You’re not gonna get wasted this year?”

“Definitely not. Last year was a nightmare.”

“You don’t even remember what happened.”

“Exactly,” you say, smoothing out the mask. “And you’re always taking care of me when I’m drunk, it makes me feel bad.”

Despite his proximity, you don’t seem to feel the intensity of his stare. His demeanour has softened in the past five minutes, smiling warmly at the pinch between your brows and the way your lips have twisted into a focussed frown.

This has happened countless times before — on all the other self-care nights, Atsumu finds himself in the four walls of your bathroom, free to admire you all he wants without the company of his friends and their teasing remarks. Though he’d never admit it, he prefers the quiet, because here, the both of you aren’t brushing off comments made about your relationship; here, it’s just you and him, pressed against the bathroom sink, worries left behind on the other side of the door.

Here, it’s so peaceful that Atsumu believes, for a few short moments, that everything will be okay.

“Don’t feel bad,” he says breathily, dreading the moment when you finish and he’s forced to pull away. “I like taking care of you.”

“You’re required to do it because we’re friends.”

“No, I like doing it,” he says again, ingraining the statement into your brain so it’ll stay there forever. “You don’t see me letting Bokuto or Hinata — hell, even Suna, stay over at my apartment and sleep in my bed.”

You pause your movements, eyes flickering to his. “What does that make me then?”

“Huh?”

“Bokuto, Hinata, and Suna are your friends, but you don’t pick them up from parties and let them say the night at your place.”

“Well, that’s cause I can’t be bothered most of the time, since they’re usually going to on-campus parties and my place is so far from—”

“But you picked me up a few nights ago,” you interrupt, and Atsumu is drawn to the determination in your irises more than he wants to admit. “And a couple weeks ago too, I think. You’ve been picking me up before I even moved in with Sakusa, and my old place was thirty minutes away.”

“What are you saying, Y/N?”

“What am I to you, Atsumu?”

He grips the countertop so tightly his knuckles are as white as the marble. His heart drums against his ribcage, so loud in the cavity of his chest that he wonders if you can hear it too.

“You’re my friend.”

“Like Bokuto? Or Hinata, or Su—?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffs. Comparing yourself to them is absurd. “It’s diff— you’re different.”

“Different how?”

Suddenly, everything feels stuffy. Tension floods the room until he’s neck-deep in it and drowning, all while you stare up at him, awaiting an answer.

“I—”

Someone knocks loudly on the door.

“Hey!” Bokuto. “Is someone in here?”

You don’t answer. The ball is in Atsumu’s court.

There’s an answer that lingers in his mind, one that he wants to give you despite the risk that it could destroy everything he’s ever known. But as his hesitation grows, the ring buoy that is Bokuto’s voice becomes more tempting — something to save him from this situation where he’s flailing in hope and what-ifs. Something to save him from your want and his dread and all the other sharp objects that could slice your friendship in two.

(Aren’t you the one who’s always saying he should be more responsible?

Doing this is the most responsible thing he could do, isn’t it?)

“We’ll be right out,” he responds, and just as he replies, you pull away from him in defeat.

Everything in his body tightens.

You turn to wash your hands. Through the mirror, he can see you blink rapidly and clench your jaw.

When he finally goes to exit, Bokuto stands impatiently on the other side. His eyebrows rise when he spots the hairband keeping Atsumu’s blond strands out of his face.

“That’s cute,” Bokuto coos, poking at the heart that sticks out from the material.

“Thanks,” Atsumu says, adjusting the band and letting his fingers brush against the plush heart. “It’s Y/N’s.”

The sun had set a long time ago.

In its absence is the moon, its light barely sufficient to lead you and Atsumu home — home being his apartment, but you’ve been there so much it might as well be your own. It’s alright, though, he thinks; your arm is interlinked with his, and that’s all he’ll ever need to guide him.

Your hips bump his as you both walk down the sidewalk, the air a melody of your laughs as he retells a childhood story about him and Osamu. You fail to refrain the teasing comments that fall from your lips about how he’s always been a troublemaker, long before you ever met him.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he’d said a couple minutes ago. “Since I’m your favourite and everything.”

You smile, and every time you do so, the more he believes that the bathroom incident has been forgotten.

But Atsumu’s not stupid. He senses your discomfort — it’s miniscule, but it’s there, and deep down he knows it’s all because of what happened last night.

Every Tuesday, you wait for his evening lecture to finish before you both walk back to his place to watch a movie. Some nights you leave before the clock strikes ten, most nights you stay over. It’s a routine that’s been implemented since he first met you, and never once has it ever felt tense.

Atsumu itches to fix it.

“Hey,” he pipes up, hoping to avoid any uncomfortable lulls in conversation. “You never told me how your date went.”

“My date?”

“Yeah. Bokuto says some guy from your Psychology class asked you out.”

“What?”

“At the party.”

You crinkle your nose in thought before a light bulb goes off in your head. “Are you talking about Kuroo?”

Atsumu’s eyes may as well bulge out of the sockets with how much they’ve widened. “Kuroo asked you out?”

“No,” you say quickly. “Well, yes. But he didn’t mean it. He only did it to get someone to stop bothering him.”

Atsumu frowns. “Then why did Bokuto say—?”

“Bokuto was drunk,” you snicker. “Plus, you know how much of a lightweight he is, and Hinata just kept on giving him drinks, so you can imagine how that went.”

“Not good, probably.”

“Nope,” you say. “Just imagine everything that could’ve gone wrong then double it.”

“Did he puke on Akaashi?”

“Yeah, and on Kuroo too.”

“See, that’s why I never let him stay the night.”

Your smile wavers and he pinches himself for saying anything in the first place.

“That’s probably the only good idea you’ve ever had,” you eventually say, but your voice is weaker than you intend it to be.

Atsumu can’t find the energy to argue.

He allows himself to be pulled down the street, your footsteps hasty compared to how he tries to drag his feet along the cement. Atsumu assumes you want to get this night over with, to spend only an hour — maybe two — with him before bidding goodbye, and the thought causes an ugly feeling to root itself into the pit of his stomach.

The wind whistles in warning. He should’ve expected something like this.

All good things come to an end is something he’s heard far too many times to count, but Atsumu is nothing if not an optimist, and even so, he never thought a saying such as that could ever apply to his friendship with you. Despite the hardships, the two of you have always pulled through.

But the clouds begin to drift over the moon, hindering its light, and his stomach churns at what’s to come.

Your voice, disguised as a remedy to soothe his unease, carries him forward. “Listen, I think I’ll head home after the movie.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight, y’know?”

“You can sleep in mine,” he suggests, his tone bordering on a plea. You always sleep in mine. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“It’s okay, Tsumu,” you reply. “You’re probably tired of seeing me all the time, anyway.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

You give him a tight smile in response.

Atsumu’s always believed he was good with words. His voice has failed him before, sure, and it’s not like it’s a secret that sometimes his carelessness lands him in undesirable situations, but he’s usually so quick on his feet. He knows what to say, and if he doesn’t, he can crank up the charm until everyone in the vicinity begins to suffocate on his charisma.

Miya Atsumu is rarely ever speechless.

But then you started acting different, and suddenly he couldn’t decipher your expressions or predict your every move. You would dance with him in the kitchen and tenderly apply skincare products on his face, but no matter how much he pulled you close, you would drift further away. You’d open up before brushing everything off as if he had nothing to worry about.

It's like you haven’t been paying attention at all. If it involved you, Atsumu would always worry.

The question slips out of his mouth too quickly for him to control. “Are you ever gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What?”

He stops walking, and as a result, so do you. “Something’s been bothering you,” he says hoarsely. “And I was waiting it out because I thought you’d tell me, but… I feel like you never will.”

You lick your lips — to stall, he thinks, but doing so only spares you a second. “Do you have any guesses?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not an idiot,” you sigh. “You must have some idea.”

(And, perhaps, maybe a small part of him does. You’re his best friend, and he is yours, and you each earned that title by knowing the other like the moon knows the stars, like the stars know the sky, like the sky knows the sun.

He knows, you know he does. But this is irresponsible. It threatens everything).

“I don’t,” he lies.

“Atsumu,” you exhale, as if he’s entangled in your system, “do you really need me to say it?”

He doesn’t answer. You continue, anyway.

Three words are whispered into the dead of night, and the world tilts on its axis.

This was never part of the routine.

“Maybe I should just go home,” you murmur when he doesn’t speak. His fingers twitch, screaming at him to reach out for you as soon as you pull away. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Y/N—”

“Just let me go,” you say — you beg. “Please.”

His body screams, his nerves flare, but the messenger between his spinal cord and his brain fails to relay the message that he should do everything in his power to prevent you from leaving.

“Okay,” he responds. His voice sounds like it hasn’t been in use for years, tainted with defeat.

You turn to leave, and for the first time since you’ve met him, Atsumu doesn’t follow.

Atsumu’s moody, he has been for a while, and it doesn’t take long for everyone to realize it’s because of you.

Or, more specifically, the absence of you.

You’ve been spending more time by yourself than you have been with anyone else, cooped up in the safety of your bedroom and listening to — according to Sakusa — music that ranges from soft, heartbroken ballads, to hardcore fuck-you anthems. The lack of your presence is strange; you’ve always been a constant in Atsumu’s life, and to live without it leaves a lingering emptiness in his chest.

He'll catch glimpses of you sometimes on campus, and he feels, what he assumes to be, the same emotion people feel when they claim they’ve spotted Bigfoot.

For a moment, everything feels a little more bearable.

But then you disappear, leaving sorrow in your wake, and reality washes over him like an ice-cold bucket of water.

His moping is how he ends up tagging along with Bokuto and Hinata at the fall festival, trailing after them like an upset puppy while they frolic down the streets, gawking at all the stands and taste-testing every snack they come across. The plan was to have them cheer him up, to make him smile even if it’s only for a second, because when Atsumu is upset, it becomes everyone else’s problem.

Hinata offers him some funnel cake and Atsumu absentmindedly murmurs about how it’s your favourite. They all buy friendship bracelets and Atsumu buys one for you too because he knows how much you’d want one. They all clamber onto the carousel and Atsumu wonders if you’d fall off if you rode the horse.

Bokuto and Hinata get tired of it all eventually.

“He’s hopeless,” Bokuto cries when they reunite with Suna and Osamu. “He won’t stop whining.”

Atsumu opts for standing on his toes to look over the crowd in hopes of finding you instead of replying to his friend. His eyes drift first to the ring toss, then to the man selling cotton candy, then to the spinning teacups.

Nothing.

Osamu says something that finally catches his brother’s attention. “Well, Y/N’s not coming,” he waves his phone in the air, which is open on his message thread with you. “Said they were busy.”

Hinata huffs. “They’re only saying that cause Tsumu’s here.”

Bokuto slaps his arm. “Shoyo!”

“What? It’s true!” he exclaims defensively. “You know how they’re always on top of their assignments, I doubt they’re doing anything but watching TV and—”

“Yeah, but still, don’t say that! Isn’t Tsum-Tsum heartbroken enough?”

“I am not heartbroken,” Atsumu snarls.

Suna gives him a look. “Well…”

“I’m not!” he flails, frantically gesturing to himself to show that he’s perfectly fine. “I mean, yeah, am I a little upset? Yes. But heartbroken? You guys are just saying anything at this point, like—”

Osamu interrupts him before he can continue rambling and digging himself into a bigger hole. “What did you even do, anyway?”

The Miya twins are notorious on campus for their bickering, but Atsumu thought that in this situation, at least his own brother would be on his side. “What makes you think this is all my fault?”

Osamu raises an eyebrow, mocking and patronizing. “Well, for one—”

“If anything,” Atsumu continues, hurriedly cutting him off, “I should be the one avoiding them. Not that I’d want to, I’d never want to, obviously, but if we were getting technical then they should be the one worrying about me and not the other way around.”

Hinata speaks, mouth full of the last of his funnel cake. “Who says they don’t worry about you?”

“I— wait, what?”

“They’re always asking me and Shoyo about how you’re doing,” Bokuto chirps. “How screwed up could things be that you won’t talk to each other?”

Atsumu inhales, and he feels the world begin to collapse into him. Unsure of what to say, unsure of what to think, unsure if it’s fair of him to reach for his phone and hope you’ll answer his calls. He knows why the two of you have found yourselves here, standing on opposite sides of a field of regret and hurt. He knows, that in his attempt to dodge change, he blew something up in the process.

Suna tilts his head in question. “Atsumu. What happened?”

Atsumu exhales. “They told me that—” the words lodge themselves in his throat, unwilling to leave.

But they all understand.

“Huh,” Suna hums. “Didn’t think they had it in them.”

“What did you reply with?” Osamu asks.

Atsumu prepares himself for their rage. “Nothing.”

He’s met with silence. Then, incredulously, Suna asks, “Are you stupid?”

Osamu answers for him. “Chronically so.”

Atsumu doesn’t have the heart to respond to the jab, and the severity of the situation significantly increases.

Hinata bites the inside of his cheek in thought. “I think he’s broken.”

Bokuto leans forward to study Atsumu’s expression as much as he can before the latter waves him off. With a frown, Bokuto steps back and looks around the grounds, hoping to find something that’ll cheer Atsumu up and make tonight not a complete bust.

A tent, flashy and sparkly and enchanting, lures him in.

Osamu looks like he’s about to say something, but before he can utter a word, Bokuto tugs on Atsumu’s sleeve and drags him to the tent, ignoring his protests. “I have an idea,” he says reassuringly, but it does nothing to calm his friend. “Trust me on this.”

Atsumu snatches his arm back and rubs it as if Bokuto’s harmed him. He cranes his neck around to look at the sign just outside the tent, and scowls at the pink and yellow doodles on the chalkboard.

“This is a psychic.”

Bokuto nods vigorously. “Yes.”

“Your idea of cheering me up is having me scammed?”

Bokuto pouts. “You love stuff like this.”

He’s not wrong. If it were any other day, this place would be Atsumu’s first stop. He’d be the one begging people to join him despite the fact that he knows the consequences involve a dent in his bank account, but today, predictions of his future are the last thing on his mind. Today, convincing people to get their fortune read is the least of his desires, because you aren’t trying to convince people with him.

There’s no point being here without you.

Atsumu moves to get out of line.

“Hey, dude,” Bokuto whines and holds onto his arm to keep him in place. “Just give it a try. It can’t hurt, can it?”

“Boku—”

“It’ll be fun!” he says cheerily. “Maybe it’ll give you some insight on how to apologize to Y/N.”

Atsumu wants nothing more than to move — to leave — but Bokuto mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes long before he could talk, and the moment he flashes them Atsumu realizes he has no other choice but to stay.

When he steps into the tent, the atmosphere changes.

He tugs on the sleeves of his windbreaker when the autumn air threatens to pierce his skin, and reluctantly sits down on the chair across from the psychic. She eyes his every move, trying to figure out what type of customer he might be — someone who’s just doing this for fun, or someone who’s going through a rough patch, or someone who needs a stranger to light the path they need to walk down.

Atsumu fidgets in his seat.

“You’re here for a reading?”

A shrug and feigned indifference are what she receives as an answer. “Sure.”

His mask of nonchalance begins to slip when the reading starts, growing restless as he checks the time on his watch and calculating the probability of you still being awake. He glances over his shoulder, praying to whichever deity who’ll listen that Bokuto will come in and drag him out once he’s realized that this is the last thing Atsumu wants.

You are not here, and his body stings whenever the reminder worms its way into his mind.

His uneasiness must amuse the psychic, because when he finally looks back at her, she’s grinning, knotting his stomach in worry.

She asks him a dreadful question, made of nuts and bolts and things that rub salt in the wound of his heart.

What is it that you desire most, boy?

Atsumu freezes, plastering a confused smile on his face. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m sure you know. Is it strength?”

Definitely not, Atsumu wants to say. He’s more than capable enough to lift heavy boxes, he doesn’t have to take multiple trips to move things from point A to point B, he doesn’t struggle carrying his friends’ slump and inebriated bodies into a bed.

Atsumu is strong. He’s proved it during his frequent trips to the gym and by winning arm-wrestling contests. He wears the trait like a badge of honour, a reminder.

He does not need any more physical strength.

He checks his watch and wonders if you’ve brushed your teeth and dragged yourself to bed.

The psychic pushes. “Power?”

Atsumu briefly shakes his head, a movement so miniscule it’s a surprise the woman catches it.

It used to be such a thrill, the popularity that came with his volleyball reign. He used to ride that horse and sit in that throne with pride, he let the excitement course through him and, for a while, let himself believe the squeals that came with victory was interchangeable with love.

But power does not compare. He was foolish to believe nothing could beat the rush that came with the admiration — the shouts of his name in the bleachers, the ever-growing follower count, the people confessing their infatuation whenever they caught him alone.

They do not know who he is underneath the volleyball uniform. They don’t know that he likes to go to the diner after games and order a strawberry milkshake, or that his bottom drawer is filled to the brim with spare clothes for you, or that his favourite nights are spent with you applying a face mask to his skin.

They will never know him as much as you do.

The psychic leans forward. “Love?”

Atsumu clenches his jaw. Yes, would be the short answer, but to say that without an explanation would mean to lie, and he’s never been a good liar. Because Atsumu’s always been loved — not by the crowds or the student body — but by his friends, his family, you.

You gave your heart to him, and he noticed too late that the bleeding organ resided in the palm of his hand, cracked and yearning and brave. And after he realized this, he selfishly craved for more, even though he knew it scared him. He has been in relationships before, but none of them crossed the threshold of what truly mattered — the intimate conversations, the dances in the kitchen at midnight, the confessions murmured under the duvet.

So, perhaps, yes, Atsumu desires love, but the one thing he supposes he wants more is courage.

The psychic smiles. “Ah. Bingo. So—”

“Miya.”

Atsumu whips his head around to find Sakusa standing at the entrance, skillfully ignoring the protests behind him to get in line and wait his turn. Sakusa raises an eyebrow at the situation Atsumu’s found himself in, but saves him from his judgement to state, “Bokuto told me you were in here.”

“Excuse me,” the woman chirps. “We’re in the middle of something.”

“If you think a scam is what’ll solve your problems, then you’re stupider than I thought,” Sakusa says.

Atsumu sighs. “You came here just to tell me that?”

“Well, yeah,” Sakusa shrugs. “There’s a simpler solution to all of this.”

“Okay, well—”

“Talk to them,” Sakusa interrupts, exhausted. “Before they give up.”

Atsumu kisses his teeth, changing his position in his chair so he’s fully facing Sakusa. “Since when were you the type to give advice?”

Sakusa ignores his retort with a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes.

“I have never seen you cower before, Miya,” Sakusa says, and the words are like needles on his skin. “Don’t let the first time you do so be now.”

Atsumu inhales shakily. “I don’t—”

“They got Hinge a few days ago,” Sakusa deadpans. Atsumu stiffens. “Don’t lose to some hack they found on a dating app.”

Atsumu looks from his friend to the clairvoyant before flashing her a sheepish smile and shooting clumsily out of his chair. The words that tumble from his mouth are barely coherent, and the last thing he hears before he exits the tent is Sakusa mumbling moron under his breath.

The journey from the festival to your apartment is a blur. He vaguely recalls running past his friends and returning their questioning shouts with a wave of his hand and getting angry at least two cars who cut him on the road, before he ends up in front of your door, nose tinged red from the cold.

His knocks are insistent.

“I’m coming, God, be patient,” he hears you say before you open the door to see him, and your annoyance is wiped away in seconds.

“Hi,” he says, out of breath from running up three flights of stairs after he got impatient waiting for the elevator. His eyes land on the blanket you’ve wrapped over your shoulders, and his lips quirk up at the familiar pattern. “Didn’t I get you that?”

You tug on the material defensively. “What are you doing here?” you ask. “And what the hell are you wearing? Did you not look at the weather before you left the house? It’s freezing outside, you idiot, you should be wearing a thicker jacket. And your face is so red! And your hands! They’re gonna get all dry if you don’t wear gloves! How many times do I have to tell you to dress for the weather otherwise you’ll get sick and…”

Atsumu rasps, “And?”

You gulp, taking a step back to distance yourself. “And you shouldn’t be here,” you say, sending a knife to his chest. “I thought you were at the festival.”

“That’s why you didn’t come,” he concludes. “Because I was there.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do?” you snap. “I told you I loved you and you looked at me like I was crazy.”

“I didn’t.”

“Whatever,” you bark. “My point still stands. You shouldn’t be here.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Then why are you?”

Eight letters are whispered into the darkness of the entryway, and the world is thrown off-balance.

“I love you,” he says, surprising himself with just how easy the words escape after he lets them, “and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your lips part in surprise. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “And I should’ve told you sooner, but I— I was scared—”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “Love conquers all, I guess. My fear included.”

“You came all the way here to tell me that?”

He risks a step towards you and his heart flutters when you don’t move away. “I ran out of a psychic’s tent, too.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he murmurs. “That’s not important right now.”

“It sounds pretty important, I mean, you mentioned it and everything.”

“It’s not.”

“What exactly is more important than that?”

“Your forgiveness, actually.”

You huff. “Believe it or not, forgiveness doesn’t come so easily, Atsumu.”

“Can I kiss you, then?” he questions innocently, placing a hand against your cheek. “Will you take that as an apology?”

You still, licking your lips as you try to maintain your defiant stance. “…That won’t work every time you make me mad, you know.”

He tries his best not to smirk. “Is that a yes?”

“I hate you.”

He lets his lips hover over yours, and he’s not sure if the loud heartbeat ringing in his ears is his or yours (or maybe a mixture of both). “Is that yes?” he asks again, searching your eyes for any signs of discomfort.

Your eyes flicker to his mouth and then you mumble, “Yes.”

Atsumu pinches himself before capturing his lips with yours, eager and desperate, to kiss you with enough pent-up want and need to cause you to stumble. He’s gentle in the way he cradles your face, as if the world has found itself in his hands, still beautiful despite how much he’s hurt it.

He’ll make up for hurting you later, but for now he’ll allow himself to be selfish.

I love you, he whispers into your mouth, and you capture the confession with your own and let it live in your beating heart.

I love you, he whispers into your neck as you both stumble into the kitchen, making sure to tattoo the words into your skin so you’ll never forget.

“I love you,” he whispers one last time as the blanket covers you both and he’s sure you’ve lulled to sleep with your ear against his chest and his thumb drawing hearts on your shoulder, “so, so much.”

Slumber takes over you both, blanketing your smiling figures with hope and love.

#atsumu #miya atsumu #hq #haikyuu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #atsumu angst #miya atsumu angst #haikyuu angst #hq angst #fic: miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease

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dovveri · 3 months ago

Text

matching wounds

synopsis: 2 victors are brought back as mentors for the 58th hunger games. you don’t understand how your fellow victor nayeon seems so okay after everything that happened in the arena.

warnings: angst! sleep issues, trauma, death, killings, blood, weapons, mentions of sex trafficking, suggestive at times, all the trigger warnings that come w the hunger games ig…

w/c: 13.3k

a/n: got this idea post conan concert listening to the exit and being thrown back to this one hunger games edit to the exit and this was born! its mostly just them dealing w their trauma and talking and being there for each other </3

»┼)➝

the train ride to the capitol is it's usual flamboyant, boastful lie. you scowl, looking out the window as you pass the countryside at rapid speed. a year was not nearly enough to recover from the trauma of winning the infamous hunger games. you still remember very clearly, the absolute dread you felt sitting on this train a year ago, praying to all the deities and gods you had never bothered learning the names of in your limited education in district 9.

your attention is drawn over to the carriage door when it slides open. your accompaniment, the only other victor alive in district 9, walks in briskly. she doesn't seem to take notice of you slinking around in the corner of the carriage. im nayeon was something else. she was your mentor when you were in the games last year. she had won her games not too long before you, reaped at the very young age of 14 for the 49th hunger games. you guessed you could consider yourself lucky in that sense. your name was picked out last year when you were already 18, so you already had the build and experience from working out in the fields all day to help you win. nayeon's games didn't make too big of a splash because the next year was the quarter quell and haymitch abernathy from district 12 stole the win to the surprise of much of the capitol and the districts. he was all everyone could talk about and people easily forgot the winner of the games the year before his.

you don't remember watching her games on television either, you were only 10 at the time, and your family was too poor to afford something as luxurious as a screen. you saw no sense in watching the games when you could be out working the fields to bring home food for your family instead, that was the first year you were trusted with heavier tasks after all.

as a mentor, nayeon was surprisingly bright and enthusiastic. she was a little awkward when she first met you, but when she found out you actually had potential, she poured her all into preparing you for your games. and with that bright charm she enticed capitol citizens easily, getting you sponsors left and right despite coming from such a poor district. your male counterpart was a little less lucky, he was killed in the initial bloodbath at the cornucopia, it was a shame but everyone expected it. you think he was one of the ones in your district that was worse off, he looked skinny as a stick, and when you sparred during training you had him flat on his face within seconds.

you'll never forget the face nayeon made when you came out of that arena, bloodied and barely conscious after killing the other final contestant, but nayeon was the first face you recognised. she hovered over you, eyebrows creased, hand over her mouth, tears falling uncontrollably, dripping onto your face.

you were the only other victor district 9 produced. it must have meant a lot to her that you survived after she sent kids off each year knowing they'll most likely die. it was the first time you had seen her break, the first time she wasn't putting on a mask for the kids she lead to their deaths.

because your district didn't have a male victor, you were asked to come back as a mentor this year instead. the kids reaped were scrawnier than ever, you had asked the staff to instruct them to take a shower first before meeting you and nayeon. you remember when you were escorted onto the lavish train for the first time you felt so disgusted with your grime and dust you felt too bad to eat all of the food that would be laid out, thinking you were much less than presentable, especially in front of nayeon.

you continue sulking in your chair, watching nayeon move around the room effortlessly. although you had moved yourself and your whole family into the victor's village, you still didn't see much of the older woman despite practically being neighbours.

you got to know her mom and her sister a little better but found out her dad was killed in a small uprising when she was only a little girl. not long after, her younger sister was born and she had to practically raise her while her mom was out trying to find as much work as she could to support all of them. nayeon grew up to be strong-willed and caring, winning her games with her cunning and natural ability to draw people into her and make them trust her. back home though, she spent most of her time away from home, no one, not even her family knows where she goes.

the carriage door slides open a second time, and this time the tributes for this year walk in shyly.

nayeon turns immediately with a smile, the same one she presented to you when you first walked in.

"hi! come in! please help yourself to all of the food here. it's a fairly long train ride into the capitol so it's important to bulk you guys up as much as we can before the games start."

the contestants flinch at the reminder of the games, looking at each other in uncertainty.

you step up then, "it's okay. everything's safe to eat. i had the same worry last year because i heard the story of that boy winning one of the early games by poisoning everyone on the train on the way to the capitol so all the other tributes were already dead or weakened by the time they stepped into the arena. security has upped considerably since the early games so it's safe to eat. you should eat, it'll help you get strong before you go in."

nayeon's gaze flicks over to you when you step out of the shadows, a curious look settling over her face.

the male contestant lurches forward at the reassurance, immediately stuffing his face with all he can reach, never having seen this much food in his life.

the girl also steps forward watching her counterpart, gingerly picking up a scone and biting in, her eyes light up at the texture.

you smile, moving towards them, "here. add this, it's called jam. it'll make it taste even better." you grab a scone for yourself and show her how to apply the jam, watching her take a bite and grin, mumbling her thanks around a mouthful of food.

nayeon slides in next to you, sitting across from the contestants with a kind smile.

"good right? after only eating plain bread and wheat for so long it's almost otherworldly."

the contestants hum and nod, still more focused on the food than the two of you.

"what were your names again?"

the boy finishes his mouthful of scrambled eggs, "julian. my family mainly works in transportation of wheat. so i've had a little experience hauling heavy things and lugging them around."

nayeon nods, "that can come in useful. there are always weapons that are included for heavyweights like you." she turns to the girl next, prompting her to reply.

"adeline. i don't have a lot of experience doing much of anything." she replies shyly.

you speak up, "that's okay! i'm sure we'll be able to find something once training starts."

you don't ask any further questions, nayeon and you in mutual silent agreement to let them eat until they were full. you send them off to explore the rest of the train and have a look outside, getting accustomed to the rapid change of pace from grueling farming work under the hot sun everyday, to air-conditioned velvet cushions and endless food and drink.

nayeon excuses herself as well, saying she was going to ask the train conductors exactly how long it would take to get there.

you wave goodbye, the permanent smile etched onto her face unnerved you.

when she was your mentor, you just thought she was encouraging. but now… now you know how she feels to be the last one standing in the arena. and you don’t understand how she can possibly smile or act as if everything was okay, not when the people you killed and betrayed haunt you in your nightmares every night, not when your senses are constantly on alert, terrified someone would jump out from around a corner to try and kill you, not when you felt like you had never left the arena.

it felt like you and nayeon had matching wounds, but yours were still black and bruised, and hers were perfectly fine. leaving the arena and trying to live life after the trauma it put on you, and being forcefully reminded of it every year afterwards, it was like you buried something that never died. how could she live with herself?

you spend the rest of the day moping around, wallowing in despair and wondering just how you were going to survive the next few weeks.

»┼)➝

a jolt of the train wakes you up. not that you could ever sleep well anyway. the first few nights after the arena you barely slept an hour a day. if you weren’t paranoid someone would attack you in your sleep, you’d be woken by the voices of the ones you killed.

you sigh, sliding out of bed and stepping outside your room. you wouldn’t be able to sleep for any longer so may as well rise early.

you pad down the hallways lightly, rubbing your eyes and wandering around aimlessly. you had gotten used to waking up at ungodly hours and usually chose to be productive when you were awake, cleaning, gardening, knitting, learning whatever you couldn't learn when you were living in poverty and didn't have the opportunity to learn. anything to get your mind off the ghosts that haunted you.

you find yourself at the back of the train, in the last carriage where half the carriage's ceiling and back wall is practically clear, allowing you to see the terrain the train was passing through.

what you don't expect is another figure, curled up at the end of the carriage sitting on the ledge and looking out at the landscape. nayeon.

she's got one knee up on the ledge, the other stretched out dangling over the edge, arms perched on her knee, head rested on her arms. you approach slowly, unsure if she was awake or not.

it seems her senses never really dulled at all either though. she noticed you when she walked into the food carriage earlier in the day, she just chose to let you think and brood, she noticed you now as you tread towards her slowly. this time she turns her head to not scare you, letting you know she was awake. her eyes are crinkled in a softer smile, heavy and tired.

"hey y/n."

you reach her quietly, she gestures for you to sit opposite her on the ledge, shuffling around so you have the space to sit up and lean back against the window.

"hi... did you sleep?"

nayeon hums, "a little."

it's silent for a few minutes, the churn of the train and the soft breaths the two of you let out are the only sounds you can hear. you look out towards the horizon as well, the fields and forests the train rapidly passes blur into mixes of brown and dark green. it's getting brighter, slowly but surely, the sun was lazily making its way up, signifying another day you were alive.

your eyes eventually drift over to nayeon. (they always do.) she was like a mystery someone would dedicate their life to uncovering. you trace over the lines on her face, noticing the little mole under her left eyebrow for the first time, the small array of freckles that dotted her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, her heart-shaped lips full and-

you catch yourself, eyes flicking up to hers again to make sure she wasn't watching you. you breathe out a sigh of relief, she was still entranced by the slowly rising sun.

"are you always up this early?" she speaks up at last, breaking the silence that settled over you calmly, although it wasn't an unwelcome break, like a raindrop disturbing the peace of a still lake.

"sometimes. i haven't really slept well ever since i left the arena." you realise this is the first time you're speaking about your experience in the arena with her. the first time speaking about your experience period. you had closed the memories off, pushing them down deep inside you so they could only haunt you in your unguarded sleep. and your family knew better than to ask, they saw what you went through on the big screens, there was no need to remind you of the trauma more than you already were reminded of it everyday.

nayeon lets out a dry chuckle, "that never changes."

your eyebrow raises, you knew close to nothing about the older woman. she never talked about herself or her games, when she was your mentor she was solely focused on helping you survive. and you had never asked.

"... you always seem so... fine though. i don't know how you do it to be honest."

she looks at you then, a sarcastic sort of glint in her eye, "is that what you think of me?"

you gulp, suddenly nervous for whatever reason, "i think that's what most people think of you. i didn't think much of it until i stepped out of that arena too. most people think we can just leave it all behind, enjoy the riches, bringing our families out of poverty, not having to live on scraps of grain everyday, they'd think we'd all look like you. but i'm not."

"i'm not either y'know. i have to put on this face. so that my family doesn't ask how i am. so that the kids i send to die every year think they have a chance of getting out and being as happy as i look."

"even faking it though... it must take so much. i can barely look at the kids without being thrown right back into that arena."

"you never get used to it. y'know the first year after i won, i was so optimistic. i thought, if i could do it, there's no reason anyone else can't do it from our district. and i thought that year they had better chances than me. i was only 15 y'know, when i first started mentoring, not to mention it was the quarter quell so there were twice the tributes i was in charge of. the tributes that year were all 16 or 17, i thought they were older than me, fitter than me, they could win, they really stood a chance. and then i watched them all be cut down in the first few seconds of the cornucopia bloodbath. four people. just like that. dead."

"...i'm sorry."

"don't be. that's just the world we live in right? the only way to survive is to think like the people in the capitol. when you view them as objects, as items of entertainment instead of real, tangible lives, it's a hell of a lot easier to watch them die." there's a somber pause, your mind racing, sorting all this new information you're getting out of her, "not you though." and then your mind's quiet, senses hyperfocused on what nayeon says next.

she sighs, looking back out at the soft orange and yellow hues that start to fill the early morning sky, "i couldn't do it. i couldn't look at you like that. no matter how hard i tried, i couldn't- i don't know. you were different. eight years sending 18 kids to die, but you came back."

"i couldn't have done it without you."

her lips turn upwards, just a little, but you catch it, "no. you brought it out of me. turns out when you actually care about who's in the arena instead of treating them like your next poker piece, you work a little harder to make sure they survive."

"but then what if they don't?"

her smile drops again, "i think you'll answer that for yourself after this year's games."

she sighs, standing up, about to leave, but you catch her hand, not even sure what compelled you to grab it. the contact makes both your eyes widen, looking down at where you're touching.

"wait..."

she waits. cocks her head, hand closing around yours in reciprocation.

you struggle to form the thoughts in your mind, too much information for your cognitive load to handle, but eventually one thing comes to the forefront.

"i care about you too."

nayeon smiles, a real smile this time, you can tell because her eyes crinkle, her nose scrunches, cheeks blush, perfect teeth show. you suddenly pull a memory from the depths of your brain, the first time you saw her, when her name was called out at her reaping. she was a small little thing, obviously young and frail, but her smile was just as practiced. except back then she had two large front teeth, it gave the appearance of a freshly born rabbit. you don't question where they've gone, her time in the capitol right before her games likely had her stylists 'fix' her teeth so she was objectively prettier and would attract more sponsors on screen. like cleaning the pigs before sending them to the slaughterhouse. what a broken world you lived in.

»┼)➝

you spend the next few days on the train leading up to the capitol getting to know julian and adeline better, trying to tease out parts of their personality that could be used to appeal to the public, as well as putting them on a basic exercise and meal regime to get them fitter and healthier for the games.

you also spent a lot more time with nayeon, working together to come up with the best plans and routines to put the tributes into, staying up late and studying all you can know about the other contestants that would be in the games, coming up with strategies that could be used once they were in the arena.

the outlandish extravagance of the capitol will never cease to amaze you. and judging by the look on nayeon’s face as you pull in, it seems no matter how many times you return, you will always be reminded of their power and riches over the districts.

you’ve been getting to learn nayeon’s expressions. right now, she’s sporting her fakest, most exaggerated smile for the capitol viewers. you know better though, the anger and disgust in her eyes only able to be interpreted by someone who came from the districts.

she turns to you then, and you blush, feeling caught staring, but she doesn't comment on it, instead brushing her hand past yours lightly, behind the peacekeepers stationed out front for your protection (or to keep you in line), and interlock your fingers where no one else can see. she squeezes gently in reassurance, leaning in to whisper into your ear, "smile y/n. you're the most recent victor, the one they'll remember best, the one they'll be most curious about since her games ended, their attention on you can help bring attention to our tributes who would never normally get this much of a crowd."

she was right. you didn't have time to wallow in the self-pity and hate you held for the capitol when you remember your two mentees from back home, likely terrified and completely overstimulated from their first sight of the capitol, the people coming to welcome them not even looking like they belonged to the same species, all dressed up in absurd colours and materials people in the districts probably slaved days away to manufacture.

you squeeze her hand in return, looking out to the crowd and smiling.

"look for the red dots. those are signs that cameras are currently recording for the rest of the capitol to see."

you follow nayeon's instructions, spotting the small blinking dots and smiling directly at them, waving and trying your best to remove yourself from your body, going into autopilot to not feel the utter abhorrence at being paraded around like a circus monkey.

the crowd becomes impossibly louder at your actions. when you can tell everyone's eyes are on you, you point to your tributes who are standing next to you, looking like newborn foals learning to walk, redirecting their attention.

nayeon gives you a little nod of approval, her hand not leaving yours while you slowly step off the train and follow the peacekeepers towards your transport to the training facilities while making your way through the welcome crowd.

by the time you finally arrive, it's already sundown and you can feel the exhaustion of having put on a face for so long. the tributes are taken away from you to meet their stylists for the first time. you're too tired to offer them any advice but nayeon steps in, still as energetic as she was when the day started.

"do everything the stylists tell you to do. it's gonna feel weird at first and they may even want you to do some things that you won't be comfortable with, but it's all gonna be for your benefit. just remember that they're on your side. they want to make you look like the best version of yourself for the rest of the capitol, and beauty sells. trust me i know."

they nod, thanking you both and being led off by peacekeepers.

you and nayeon are led to your floor where you'll be staying for the remainder of the games. as soon as you're inside you slump down onto the couch, waving off the avoxes that look at each other a little concerned.

"she's okay. just tired. you guys can leave us, we'll call you if we need anything." nayeon offers a polite smile, sitting down much more elegantly next to you.

the avoxes nod their acknowledgement and wander off. poor things.

when you hear that they're gone, you roll over to look at nayeon who's finally taken off her smile, folding her jacket neatly and placing it off to the side.

"you're really good at that."

she looks at you, tilts her head in question.

"you fooled me too. the whole happy polite princess thing you have going on. and you know you're way around. this is my first time back to the capitol since the games. i never thought i'd be back here."

something comes over her eyes, but she brushes it off, smiling at you, a little pained, but before she can reply, one of the avoxes comes back and whispers something into nayeon's ear. her face darkens, and she nods, standing back up.

"i have to go y/n. rest well." it's curt, she doesn't even look you in the eyes, and then she's gone.

you’re left blinking after her, confused at what just happened. did you say something wrong?

»┼)➝

nayeon isn't back even by dinner time. neither are your tributes, although they probably wouldn't be back until the next day, or even the day after. you remember the amount of procedures you'd gone through when you'd arrived. the preparations for the opening ceremony were extremely important for first impressions and they didn't have that much time to fix all the issues you'd grown up with. major plastic surgery was normally the way to go.

so you push the abundance of food around on your plate, thinking about how at home the amount of food you're eating could feed a family of 10. it sickens you. it's the first time since you'd left home that you were really alone. not counting the avoxes positioned behind you that had to attend to your every need. it was almost like you missed nayeon. she was always able to brighten your moods, playing around, even when things were serious she'd make sure nothing ever got too overwhelming for you or for the tributes. she was a veteran.

you sigh, pushing your food away, apetite gone. with nothing else to do, you retire to bed after a shower. maybe the soft mattresses and expensive fabrics designed particularly for sleep would finally grant you a night of good sleep.

it did the exact opposite. the fabric rubs your skin the wrong way, and you're tossing and turning in bed, playing around with the different settings of the window, shuffling your pillows around. you just couldn't find peace.

you yawn, giving up and sliding out of bed. you pad outside your room, intending to get some fresh air. on the train you didn't have that luxury, but you could still see the countryside while it passed. at least now you had a balcony in the main living room. it was caged off in case any of the tributes tried to commit suicide before the actual games, but it was still fresh air.

the cool tiles of the floor feel foreign on the skin of your feet. before you make it to the balcony door, you hear the front door clicking open.

your heart stops, sweat immediately building up on your brow, your body being thrown back into the arena, terrified someone was here to kill you.

your movements are quick, crouching and scrambling towards the couch in silence, grabbing the closest thing you can, the couch blanket. you'd learnt anything can be fashioned into a weapon with the right mindset. the blanket could be used to choke the intruder if it really came to it.

you peek to the side of the couch, holding your breath as soft footsteps pad towards the living room, the only light available is the one in the entry way, overcasting a shadow moving its way closer and closer.

but as soon as it's about to turn the corner, it stops.

you curse internally. did they notice you?

you don't get to form a second thought before a pin is whizzing your way, impaling itself into the couch. you barely have enough time to scramble backwards, the cushion of the couch saving you, but the person is leaping forwards, pushing you down into the floor. you react automatically, struggling against the figure, using the blanket you're clutching onto to latch onto a leg, yanking so they lose their balance, toppling over. you take the opportunity to quickly clamber over them, pulling the blanket to wrap around their neck.

their hands come up immediately, trying to create space between the fabric pulled tight at their throat, gasping in effort.

you finally can assess the intruder. she's wearing a short dress, pale skin exposed, hair pinned up in a clean updo with the same pins that she must have used to throw at you once she noticed your presence. and then suddenly, with horror you realise it's nayeon.

you quickly let her go, scrambling back until your back hits the couch, staring at her as she coughs, trying to catch her breath.

"nayeon!"

she groans, turning, eyes adjusting to the dark, "y/n?"

"oh fuck i'm so sorry i didn't- i thought there was an intruder-"

she massages her throat, letting out a little chuckle when she realises what's happened, "it's okay y/n. i thought the same. sorry for almost impaling you with a hairpin."

you stare at her, still in shock. "what- where have you been- jesus i almost killed you-"

"don't get cocky now. i could've gotten out of that."

you roll your eyes, "i'm serious nayeon. what are you wearing? i'm sorry too." your words are flying out, too many thoughts coming up too fast, but mainly, you're just glad it wasn't some assassin sent to kill you.

she looks down at herself, like she was just remembering she was dressed up. "ugh never mind that. are you okay? you're not hurt are you?"

you shake your head, "you?"

"i'm good don't worry your pretty little self. anyway i'm gonna go take a shower. you should go back to sleep y/n."

you tilt your head, standing up when she does, "but where have you been?"

she starts towards the bedrooms, turning on the hallway light so you can finally see each other, "out." she doesn't look at you when she replies, pulling her dress down so it covers more of herself. you catch a glimpse of the scar on her right thigh right before she covers it, the one she got in her games when someone had slashed her leg. her face is made up, but you notice the mascara running down her face in tear streaks. it's such a surprise it stops you in your tracks. you hadn't seen nayeon cry since that time you were barely conscious and just out of the arena.

"nayeon..."

she pauses, but doesn't turn back to look at you, "what is it?"

"i... you... are you okay?"

nayeon lets out a dry laugh, "i'm fine y/n. you aren't that strong. i just feel really gross and i need to shower. i'll see you in the morning."

before you can stop her she's stepping into her room and closing the door. you frown, she was obviously lying, something had happened while she was out and she wasn't telling you. it was fine if she didn't want to tell you, you just... you cared about her. you owe your life to her. you want to do anything you can to repay her.

so you sit outside her room, it's not like you were going to be able to get any sleep anyway, you'd wait for her to finish her shower and talk to you.

»┼)➝

it's almost an hour before she leaves her room. you sit fiddling your thumbs, thinking up scenarios of what could have possibly happened. nayeon was too good at hiding herself. you wished she'd open herself up. if not to her family, to you, someone who understood what it feels like to be in her position. you were one of a kind, there weren't going to be many district 9 victors after you, there certainly weren't any before her.

when she finally opens her door you scramble up.

she looks down at you surprised, her hands wringing out her hair in a towel, face bare. you're reminded of just how young she was. despite her experience and knowledge of everything, you remember she was just a girl.

she smiles. you're practiced enough that you can tell it's fake.

"what are you doing here y/n?"

"waiting for you."

"i told you to go to sleep."

"i couldn't sleep anyway."

her smile stays as she steps past you, you follow quietly. she turns the kitchen lights on, rummaging around in the fridge for something to eat.

"have you not eaten yet?"

her hands stop moving for a second, "no. not yet."

"where were you?"

she sighs, taking out a takeaway box and moving to the microwave. "i was out y/n. i told you. please stop asking me."

"but why can't you tell me?"

"it's classified."

"what?"

"i can't tell anyone."

"but why?"

"i can't tell you that."

the microwave rings.

"do you not trust me?"

"it's not that."

"then why?"

she sighs again, ripping off the lid of her takeaway box a little roughly, "i just can't tell you y/n. you'll probably find out after this year's games end anyway."

"what is that supposed to mean?"

she whips around then, eyes red, eyebrows furrowed, she's raw and genuine for the first time, too tired to keep concealing herself. "you're not stupid y/n. you're an attractive victor. what do you think happens to attractive victors? where do you think i go when we're back home and i have to leave? i'm certainly not out farming or doing all the regular jobs people back home do."

that takes you back, the pure hurt in her eyes, the way she cowers into herself in just her thin sleeping clothes and bare face. she's so much younger, so much more human without all the flashy smiles and outfits she wears for the capitol.

"i- i don't- i just thought-"

"no. you weren't thinking. you're naïve y/n. you think we have to live with just our traumas from the games. you think there's an end to it all. that once you get over what happened in the arena you'll be able to live a normal life. the life. the life they promised us when they said we'd win the games. well i'm sure living it!" she chuckles darkly, arms flailing out and raising her voice to the ceiling.

"it never ends y/n. all they do is take and take until we're as bare and barren as the farms we take care of."

you blink stupidly, the reality of what she's saying settling in.

"you admire me for how well i lie." she spits the word out, mouth dripping venom and eyes furious, "i lie to survive. everyone does. the capitol lies to us, promising us riches and glory for winning the games. that's why districts like 1 and 2 exist right? why careers fight to volunteer to kill other kids in the arena? i wonder if they'd go back in time and do the same thing once they realise what winning actually means. we're not real to them y/n. we're not humans. we're products. expensive, dolled up, murderers they have on a leash."

she sighs heavily, both hands coming to rake her hair backwards. "i'm sorry. i was meant to be your mentor. i was meant to prepare you for all of this." her voice cracks, you stare at her, mouth agape, processing all this new information, "but i couldn't. i just couldn't. i was so happy when you won. i thought i could protect you from it all."

"w-what do you mean protect me?"

she slumps, her posture giving out, you've never seen her so broken. "they wanted to start you off last year. because you were already 18 when you won." she scoffs, "not that it stopped them from starting me when i was 15. i convinced them to give you a year. i wanted you to know what it felt like to win. to be free of it all, to have your belly full, to be with your family, to be able to live without the fear of not waking up the next day."

you gawk at her in horror, "what did you do nayeon?"

she chuckles darkly again, "i said i'd take your customers. until your year was over."

"you- what?!"

she wipes at her eyes angrily, picking up a spoon and stabbing it into her food, "it's fine y/n. it's not a big deal."

"wha- nayeon- it is a big deal! this- you can't- i'll kill-"

suddenly she's got a hand clamped over your mouth, so close you can see the redness of her eyes, the small freckles that dot her skin. "don't say something you'll regret. they have ears everywhere."

you gulp, nodding, wide-eyed as she lets you go.

"w-what about what you said?"

"i didn't say anything explicit. and you were going to find out soon anyway. your year is almost up."

"what- why haven't you fought back? why have you gone along with this for so long?"

she laughs thickly, "careful. that's rebellion you're talking about."

"but it's not fair! the deal was once we won we won! the only thing we should have to do is become mentors! and even doing that is cruel enough being forced to relive the games each year!"

"there are no limits to how cruel humans can be y/n."

"i- but- but still!"

"i have family. so do you. what do you think happens to them if you say no?"

that makes you pause, thinking back to your parents who worked so hard to bring you and your siblings up. who kept you alive until you were 18. lots of kids weren't that fortunate. many died from starvation, or of the unhygienic circumstances back home.

you collect yourself, taking a breath, nayeon was still inches away from you, studying your reactions. "do they know?" you ask softly.

she sighs, shaking her head, "my mother went through enough when my dad died. even more when i was reaped for the games. she thinks my trips away are just meeting people in the capitol for business ventures or whatever. it makes sense because i always bring back large sums of money. and my sister... i never want her to find out how cruel this world is. it's enough she still has to be entered into the reapings at least once a year, but that'll stop soon when she turns 18. and then i hope to just give her a normal life. she'll never have to worry over me again."

"nayeon..."

she sniffles, "it's fine y/n. worry about yourself. i can't look after you anymore. i'm sorry."

"are you kidding?! nayeon please... i don't- do you not understand what you mean to me? i owe you my life. and now i find out you've been doing this for me for the past year. you don't have to protect me. i can protect myself. i won my games didn't i?" you try for a smile, she gives you a teary one back.

"i just- i never knew nayeon i'm sorry. i'm sorry i didn't know you were going through all this on your own. i wished you'd told me. i wished you wouldn't shoulder all this on your own. we know you're strong. we all saw your games, we know you're capable of survivng. you don't have to keep proving that. you can rely on others every once in a while."

"others like you?" she jokes, smiling up at you.

"yeah. like me. i'm the only other one that can relate. that can understand. i want to be there for you. i told you, i owe you my life, my family's lives. that's a debt i'll never be able to repay. i want to do as much as i can in this lifetime to be there for you."

"you don't have to do that y/n-"

"yes. yes i do. you've been there for me this entire time, without me even knowing. when will you let me do the same for you?"

that gives her pause, she hides under wisps of hair that have fallen down over her forehead.

you ache to brush them away, to cup her cheeks, to see those eyes again.

your wish is granted when she looks up after a second, pupils glassy. and then without another word she's burying herself in the crevice of your neck, arms coming up to wrap around you, taking a shaky inhale. you react just like you had when she had thrown that pin at you, immediately reciprocating, pushing your cheek against hers and circling your arms around her waist.

you stay there for an immeasurable amount of time. unsaid words drifting between you, sharing emotions, pain. nayeon finally feels like she's not alone for the first time since she'd won her games 9 years ago. and you finally feel at peace in her arms, the ghosts that haunted you gone for the moment.

the both of you wound up in nayeon's bed that night. it wasn't awkward, the complete opposite. you naturally gravitated towards her after she finishes eating, and she lets you cling to her. when you fall asleep, limbs entangled and hearts beating in tandem, you'll realise in the morning, it's the first time the both of you will have had a full night's rest without any of your regrets invading your dreams.

»┼)➝

the horn sounds. you grip nayeon's hand as the competitors rush forwards, you try taking in as much of the arena as you could, as if you were standing on the platforms in the arena for the first time again. you were lucky in your games to have been granted fields of tall grass. it obstructed all of the other competitors’ vision and would prove very difficult to hide in, but you were practiced in moving around between blades of wheat that grew up to 2m tall back home without making a sound. this year it seems they took a more traditional approach, the cornucopia is in the middle of the arena as always, plain desert and beating sun the only thing visible. you can make out sand dunes on the far right of the arena. it would be hard to find a water source. your eyes lock onto your tributes, praying they make it through the initial bloodbath. they're not placed in a position they can see each other, in this scenario, you and nayeon had instructed them to run for it. don't bother with the initial bloodbath, the first thing they'd need to find was water.

you breathe a sigh of relief when you see adeline do exactly that. she makes for the dunes you spotted earlier, leaving behind the chaos of the first few minutes. but then the camera pans to julian, seemingly frozen on his platform, completely petrified as he watches the girl from district 8 fall to her knees after someone launches a javelin at her.

"move!" you're extremely tense watching the scene, trying to maintain your composure as you knew you were still in public, the opening of the games was always a big spectacle, all the mentors were situated up in viewing boxes while the capitol watched along on massive screens.

nayeon grips your hand tighter, a warning not to be too loud, to keep on that mask.

you spare a glance at her, her features are tight in concentration, eyes glued to the little figures on the screen.

your head whips back when the crowd suddenly howls. it seems the career pack has formed and has just taken down both the tributes from district 12. it disgusts you how these people can cheer over the deaths of children.

julian has finally started moving though. he leaps off the platform and runs forward.

no. no no no. he needs to run away from the cornucopia. you grit your teeth, he must have seen the deaths of the district 12 tributes and thought the careers would be distracted.

the camera follows as he crouches and dips past ongoing fights, he manages to grab a sword, but that's where his luck ends. the girl from district four is wielding a nasty trident, charging straight for him. he tries to fend her off with his sword, catching it in one of the prongs of the trident, but then with horror, his feet catch on the sand. he hasn't gotten used to the terrain yet. he must have known running on sand was much more difficult than running on regular ground or the concrete of the training grounds. the girl takes the opportunity to yank her trident back, and then jabs it straight into him, all three prongs go through his chest and out the other side. you can see him cough up blood in shock, hands coming up to rest on the handle of the trident, she pushes him down and steps on his stomach to yank her weapon back out, already on the lookout for her next victim.

you can't believe what just happened. you had knew him. you had spoken to him. you had just seen and touched him this morning before he was flown off to the arena. it's completely unreal. the crowd roars with glee.

your mind can't keep up with your eyes. there's no way he was dead. the sounds, senses of the crowd drown out, you stare blankly at the main screen, watching other kids be cut down left and right, kids smaller than your youngest siblings, all while people dressed up in nauseating colours and patterns placed bets and had their children play fight with toy swords and weapons imitating real life people that died for their entertainment.

"y/n- y/n... y/n!" nayeon's shaking you out of your stupor, you blink, looking down at your intertwined hands, her concerned look that's quickly masked with a smile.

"the announcer was just asking you for some comments about the opening." you can see straight through her smile, you've spent much more time together over the past couple weeks while you were preparing your tributes for the games. you didn't explicitly talk about it, but you'd always end up in her bed each night, cuddled up and talking about everything and nothing until you both fell asleep. it was the only way you could sleep these days, and you knew it was the same for her.

you look past her shoulder to see a short man with bright green hair and a matching moustache. he smiles expectantly, teeth all white and glowing, holding out a microphone to you.

nayeon squeezes your hand again, hidden under the tresses of your gowns.

you clear your throat, awkwardly leaning forward and looking into the camera panned towards you, "r-right. um well it's pretty standard from what we can see. my arena last year must have made it difficult to see all the... fighting so it seems they've gone with something a lot more open this year." you try for a joke, earning a boisterous laugh from the man with green hair and from some in the audience who were looking on where your face was projected on one of the smaller screens next to the main livestream.

"we can definitely see all the juicy bits more clearly can't we!"

juicy bits?! is he trying to remind us of the bloody insides of all the kids being slashed open?! what kind of sick joke is it to use those words?! nayeon saves you the outburst, speaking up with a smile and a voice you know she's only ever used when talking to capitol media.

"definitely! and i must say wilbur your moustache is fantastic this year!"

he blushes, twirling the green hair on his upper lip, "thank you nayeon. you're as beautiful as always. and i'm glad to see you're finally accompanied by another victor your age! it must have been very lonely these last few years on your own."

nayeon's hand tightens against you. you want to punch this man in the face.

"yes i'm very glad to have y/n here. we make a fine team don't you think?" she grins. you notice the angrier she is, the more absurd her acting is, almost as if she's testing the limits of just how far she can go before people finally realise she's been sarcastic the entire time.

"of course! 2 fine ladies such as yourselves, you're both a hit in the capitol! i'm sure lots of fellas in the crowd tonight would love to see you two team up another time."

there's an uproar in the crowd, obviously male voices hollering and agreeing with laughter.

you're absolutely revolted at the implication. so you can't stop yourself when the next words fall out of your mouth, "i'm sure you'd know a lot about teaming up wouldn't you wilbur? how many fellas do you have twirled around that moustache of yours?"

nayeon is barely able to conceal a scoff, hiding it as a cough into your shoulder. you smile daringly, all teeth as wilbur stares at you aghast.

he clears his throat, "i'm not quite sure i know what you mean by that y/n."

"oh nothing. just wondering how many balls you have to play with when you do that team sport out here... i don't quite recall the name, it must be something that is only really fashionable out here in the capitol."

"r-right. sports. ahaha! you must have gotten me mixed up with someone else y/n! yes that must be it. everyone here will know i'm not really one for sports." he tries to steer the subject off, his face burning up bright red, with his green hair he looks like a mishappen christmas tree. he moves on quickly after that, going to interview less problematic mentors.

"you shouldn't always let them get away with shit like that nayeon." you frown when the attention is off you again, whispering into her ear.

she shakes her head, "sometimes it's better to let it go than to bring it up. more trouble than it's worth. you did very well though. are you okay? you zoned out a bit back there."

you sigh, running your thumb over hers gently, "yeah. just... wasn't prepared i guess. adeline is still in it though, she's got a decent chance if she manages to find water."

"you can never prepare for this. i'm sorry."

"there's nothing to apologise for. you warned me on the train, about what it's like. nothing compares to the real thing though."

"i know. i'm here for you though okay? i couldn't physically help you in the arena but i can now."

"stop that nayeon. you did more than enough for me in the arena. i told you. i owe you my life."

she smiles. you're taken aback by the genuinity of it. the slightly dimmed lighting, her makeup not too over the top like some of the people you've seen walking around the capitol, but accentuating her already flawless features even better. you knew she was attractive, you'd have to be blind not to. and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of nayeon as something more. you pushed it down though. people like you and nayeon didn't have the luxury of feelings like love.

you quickly break away from her gaze and those perfectly heart-shaped lips, looking back to the aftermath of the opening minutes. but even the grim bloodied bodies littering the floor that you can barely comprehend are real, do little for the blush that dusts your cheeks and the fluttering in your stomach.

»┼)➝

you can tell from the way she's breathing nayeon’s not asleep yet either. one of her arms is draped over your midriff, her breaths lightly hitting the back of your neck, legs entangled with your own.

"you're still awake." you whisper out into the quiet of her bedroom walls.

"so are you."

you don't dare turn to face her, knowing your faces would be centimetres apart, breaths hitting each other's lips, noses almost touching.

"i can't get it out my head. the way the trident just went through him. like he was made of clay."

her voice is soft, careful, "i’ll never forget any of them. not any of my kills.”

“he wasn’t your kill nayeon. the tributes you mentored aren’t your kills.”

“they may as well be. as a mentor, surely i can do something. but every year is the same. i don’t learn. i can’t do anything for them.”

“you helped me survive.”

she sighs, breath tickling the back of your neck, her arms wrap around you just a little tighter. “i told you. you’re different.”

“how?”

“you just are. i don’t know how to explain it.”

“you don’t have to. i… nevermind. still, i don’t think you should think of the tributes we mentor as people we’ve killed. it’s the capitol, everything’s them, that’s the big enemy remember?” your voice is hushed, paranoid they’re listening in somehow but also desperate to soothe nayeon’s worries.

“it doesn’t change what i did. all victors are murderers. we lost our innocence the day our names were pulled out of that bowl.”

“you’re right. we have to live with that. but at least we’re not alone now.” you decide to risk it, turning and shuffling around the bed until your nose to nose. you can feel the blush creeping up your cheeks already, wisps of her hair tickling your face, her eyes shining in the dark.

she stares at you for a little, eyes darting around your face. "you're right. we're not alone now." she speaks in a whisper, breath gently kissing your lips with her words.

you can't help but look down at her slightly parted, heart-shaped lips, her breaths coming in and out softly, luring you in. you're magnetised. the tension between you two is undeniable, thick enough to make you feel almost drowsy, eyes drooping and lidded, only focused on tracing the shape of her lips.

nayeon's the one to break it.

she leans in closer, hand tightening around your waist, closing her eyes and pressing your lips together. it's not sparks or lightning, it's just two mouths moving against one another, finding comfort in one another, it's soft and pure and everything the capitol robbed the two of you of when they turned you into murderers.

but then it's not. there's a salty tinge to her, the taste of tears. you open your eyes slowly, breaking away from her, she takes the opportunity to inhale shakily.

"nayeon?" you frown, immediately concerned you've overstepped.

she hides her face in your neck, squeezing herself against you.

"hey... what happened? what's wrong?"

"we- w-we can't." her voice is wobbly, there are still tears dripping down her face.

your heart sinks, "we can't?"

"i'm- i can't- i'm a product y/n. you'll become one too. i can't- i can't lose you too."

"but- you won't lose me."

"you don't know that y/n. you don't know what the capitol is capable of. if they find out we're- if they find out we care for each other like that they'll tear us apart. we can never have what normal people have."

"but that won't stop me from caring for you! and i know that's not going to stop you either."

"but when- i don’t- when they start selling you off i don’t know how i’ll be able to- to not kill them all."

you bring a hand up to her cheek, forcing her to look at you, thumb swiping across the skin under her eye, wiping off her tears, "i know. i don't know how i'll be able to do it either. but you're worth it. i haven't felt- i haven't felt this understood, i've spent so long thinking i'm alone, that i'll have to spend the rest of my life like this, but you make me feel happy. after all we've been through don't you think we deserve that?"

"but- but- they can't know y/n- they can't take you away from me."

"and they won't. i promise. do you trust me?"

nayeon stares up at you, her eyes shining, lip wobbly. she bites down into it after a second, breathing out a small "yes."

"i trust you too. anything they throw at us, we'll take it together. okay?"

she sighs, nodding, bringing a shaky hand up to feel you, just to make sure you were real, that she wasn't conjuring all this up to cope with her trauma. you lean into her touch, hand coming up to grip her wrist and squeeze, leaning in and touching your nose against hers, feeling safer than you've ever felt in your entire life.

»┼)➝

the next day is more of the same. at least this time you're not in a display box so you can have genuine reactions and you can be close to nayeon in the privacy of your own floor, finding comfort in her arms and words.

you spend the morning cuddled up, choosing to eat breakfast on the couch while the livestream of the arena plays. when there's nothing interesting going on they have live coverage of news anchors and commentators reacting to replays and talking about what happened during the night that the audience may have missed while they were asleep. adeline hasn't been seen on screen much but you know she's still alive and has found a small alcove in the desert with cacti that she can cut open to drink water from. still, you know it won't last her and nayeon and you plan on going out during lunch when most of the capitol citizens will be out and about to start finding sponsors to send water or food to adeline in the arena.

by the time you're in the city you come to realise just how good nayeon is at networking. you trail behind her like a lost puppy while she greets extravagantly overdressed citizens of the upper circle with a bright smile, compliments, and sparkling eyes. she seems to understand that you're much newer at this so she brings you along as a prop of sorts, convincing new and old sponsors to sponsor district 9 once again, after all, the most recent victor did come from district 9, and adeline was tutored by you with the most recent experience winning which made her someone to look out for in the later days of the games.

there are lots more people that recognise than you think, colours and materials you've never seen or felt before invading your senses, fake voices and compliments trying to get on your good side, you can simply smile and try your best to keep up.

eventually, you're seperated from nayeon when a short man engages you in a conversation about hair products and how you got yours to be so shiny and natural, you only nod along while he talks your ear off about different products and chemicals he's tried on his orange mess of a flat top, you can only provide clueless agreements and your simple hair routine back home. but you manage to steer the conversation back to the games and actually manage to get him to donate something as long as he gets the name of the random shampoo brand you use back home.

once you wave him off, you excitedly look around for nayeon, eager to tell her about your first donation that you managed all on your own. but as you scan the square, you can’t seem to catch sight of her.

you frown, wandering around a little until you spot her, hidden away in the shadows behind a few pillars. your eyes light up, almost skipping over to her until you realise she’s with someone else.

“stop- no i don’t want to-“

“c’mon you want sponsors don’t you? i’ll give you double what your highest donation is if you come now-“

“no! i’m not rostered on right now you can’t just- you can’t approach me in public like this-“

“no one saw us sweetheart c’monnn if we go now we can leave quietly. besides i saw your other victor and she’s doing alright on her own, she won’t even notice you’re gone.”

the man she’s with is gripping nayeon’s forearm harshly, when he starts pulling her away you step in, clearing your throat, eyes flaring up. “i did notice she was gone actually.”

nayeon whips her head around to you, but you can barely see her, your gaze is fixed on the way he still has his fingers wrapped around her, squeezing so tight her skin is white around his fingers.

your eyes trail up to his face when he laughs, not letting go of nayeon, “oh! y/n right? don’t worry nayeon and i are good friends. i’m just gonna borrow her for a bit yeah?”

you step forward, an arm sliding around nayeon’s waist protectively, glaring up into his blue eyes and perfectly sculpted nose, “is that true nayeon?” you don’t back down from his sleazy gaze while you direct the question to the older woman.

his eyes flick over to her, a warning in his eyes.

“i-it’s okay y/n i can handle this just go back to the square.”

you frown, unwilling to let her go, “no.”

the man raises an eyebrow, “you two a package deal now or something?”

nayeon bristles then, yanking her arm away from him, “don’t fucking touch her.”

the man backs up, surprised, “woah! calm down bunny i was just joking around.”

nayeon flushes at the nickname, “whatever josh. i told you i’m not rostered right now. book me in for when i’m actually available.”

“and her?” he smirks, nodding his head to you.

she grits her teeth, “take it up with your agent. don’t contact me outside again or i’ll make sure you won’t be able to buy any one of us.”

she doesn’t wait for him to respond, pulling you away and back into the main area.

you’re quiet, processing the information you just learnt. she doesn’t look at you, eyebrows furrowed, hand tight against yours.

“… was that one of your customers?”

she sighs, “yeah. one of my pushier ones.”

“i’m sorry.”

“what for? he pays well.” she spits out, storming back to your accommodation, deciding socialising for the day is done, she had collected enough donations today.

“i’m sorry you have to deal with him.”

“it’s not your fault.” she says simply, pulling you into the elevator and punching in your floor number.

you ascend silently, fiddling with your fingers, unsure of what else to say.

when you arrive, your fingers are still interlaced with hers, but she relaxes as soon as you step in, letting her mask drop.

“you did really well today.”

she smiles at you then, “thank you. i saw you grab that last donation too. adeline will be happy.”

you step closer to her, tentative and shy, her eyes crinkle at the sight. “thank you.”

“what for?”

you step closer again, swinging your intertwined hands slightly, “protecting me all that time.”

her hand tightens against yours.

“can you actually do that? stop him from using your… services?”

she snorts, “no. but he doesn’t know that. all he thinks about is his dick anyway, any danger to that and he’ll back off.”

“do they ever hurt you?”

her eyes soften, looking into yours, searching. “sometimes. sometimes it gives them pleasure. other times they like to take out their anger on us. maybe they’ve had a bad day or they’ve had a fight with their spouse at home or whatever else. they don’t need an excuse to treat us however they like.”

“that’s terrible.”

“it’s the world we live in.”

“what if we… what if we were a package deal?”

she raises an eyebrow, “what do you mean?”

“if they had to book us together. it’d make me feel better, if i could protect you somehow while we’re in there. that you have someone else there in case anything extreme happens. and…” you blush, thinking over your next words, “i know i have to… share you, but at least this way i can see what others do to you, so i still have some semblance of control over the situation.”

nayeon hums, pulling you in by the waist so you're no longer awkwardly hovering around her trying to think of how to get closer to her, "i can ask. that's a good idea y/n. and i'm sure lots of people would love to see two pretty girls getting it on." she jokes.

you blush, looping your arms around her neck loosely, playing with the hair at the back of her neck that has come out of her updo, "i don't- i've never- y'know..."

there's a hint of a smirk on her face, you're avoiding her gaze, "you've never...?"

you whine, knowing she's teasing you on purpose, pushing her away from you but she laughs, pulling you back into her and pecking you gently, "do you want to? there's no rush. i'm worried we may be taking things a bit fast but as long as you're comfortable i'm okay with whatever."

you look at her determinedly, "i don't think we can move too fast. i think we should take whatever we can get while things are good before the capitol tries to break us apart. i want to be with you, all of you, for as long as you'll let me."

nayeon smiles, leaning her forehead against yours, "i want to be with you for as long as you'll let me as well."

you reciprocate her smile, leaning in and pressing your lips against hers, hesitant, but loving. she responds immediately, one hand remaining at your waist and another coming up to rest on the crevice of your neck. you move easily against each other, it's comfortable, safe, you're both on the same wavelength, and nayeon treats you with utmost respect and adoration, ensuring you felt just as loved as she felt, keeping you grounded and at-home in her arms.

»┼)➝

it's another few days before something big happens. nayeon and you spend every minute wrapped up in one another, basking in the comfort and excitement of something new yet reminiscent of innocent, purer times.

that shatters completely when it gets to day 6 of the games.

adeline has managed to survive this long without coming into real contact with any of the other surviving tributes. nayeon has done most of the brunt work in receiving sponsorships and donations which you use strategically to lead adeline towards water sources or away from enemy tributes that may be nearing her location.

however, it seems the gamemakers had had enough of her cat and mouse game by the time there are only 5 tributes left, adeline, the boy from district 1, the two from district 2, and the girl from district 11 who managed to create her own water and food source in the barely repairable soil, turning it into her own farm using knowledge from her home district.

it was nearing the finale, and everyone in the audience knew it. the anticipation would put pressure on the gamemakers to bring out their final tricks, to lure all the tributes into one location to fight it out to the end.

that trick turned out to be a sandstorm in the night, blinding all the tributes, throwing off coordinates, destroying the girl from 11's farm, and forcing all the contestants to stumble blindly in the dark while the storm whipped around them harshly, sand cutting into skin and drying up lips while the cold chill of the desert night only made it even more difficult to find one's senses.

the girl from district 2 was smart, she used the sandstorm and her teammates' confusion to her advantage, taking the chance to stab the boy from 1, making him think it was the boy from 2, and letting them fight it out while she ran off, abandoning the career alliance that was inevitably going to break down towards the end of the games anyway. the boy from 2 ends up being able to defend himself well enough to deliver the finishing blow on the boy from 1, but he sustained fatal injuries in the process and died slowly and painfully in the storm while the sand lapped at his open wounds and his mouth gasped for water through mouthfuls of sand, wishing he was the one who was killed first.

when the storm finally dies down, the audience can see the carnage it has wrecked on the arena, three girls left, all within a 20 minute radius of one another. if it wasn't clear this was the endgame, it was definitely clear now.

the entire topography has been shifted, everything is now covered in sand. there would be no food, no water, the girls would either starve or thirst to death first in which case it would be a test of endurance, or find each other first and win the games to end their own form of suffering in living in this unlivable arena.

the girl from 11 seemed to want to take the former approach, burrowing herself under dunes of sand, digging for her farm and hoping the desert heat and lack of water would mirage her location into regular sand dunes while she hid until the final 2. the girl from 2 is set on the latter, going on the prowl immediately to find the remaining two contestants and claim her victory.

unfortunately for adeline, because the girl from 11 hid herself so well, it meant she came into contact with the girl from 2 first.

she puts up a good fight. everyone in the capitol is on the edge of their seats. as soon as the storm had cleared, nayeon and you had immediately sent adeline some supplies, water, a basic first-aid kit to tend to the wounds she had received earlier in the games, anything to let her know you were both still watching and keeping an eye on her, that she wasn't alone despite the immense loneliness and hopelessness she must have felt living in the desert for the last 6 days.

but even that wasn't enough to deal with the mental pressure of being in that situation for so long, thinking you actually have a chance of winning, of going home, she let her guard down, openly gulping down water while the girl from 2 crept up behind her.

adeline reacts just in time, throwing her bottle away and picking up the sword she had retrieved off a dead tribute's body earlier on in the game, swiping blindly in order to create some distance.

she manages to find her footing, standing on both legs, eyes zeroing in on her opponent who has already started lunging forward with her next attack. her weapon is longer, able to reach further, but adeline is tall and gifted with long limbs, able to maneuver herself out of the way before getting impaled by the pointy end of a spear, whipping around quickly to slice a deep cut in the girl's arm while it's still outstretched holding the spear.

the girl yelps out in pain, but quickly recovers, switching the spear to her non-dominant hand, jabbing forward without missing a beat, gritting her teeth in effort.

the crowd in the captiol is cheering, throwing popcorn, placing last minute bets, rowdier than ever after they couldn't clearly see the fight between the boys from districts 1 and 2 because the sandstorm had lowered visibility on the cameras. now, they could see every parry, every stab, every drop of blood that’s splattered onto hot, golden sand. the pure bloodlust is nonsensical.

adeline manages to block off each advance, but there's simply nowhere left to run or hide, everything that could be used has been covered by sand, there's only acres and acres of desert. so it makes sense when she loses her footing on the loose grains, falling onto her back and losing grip of her sword. the girl from 2 is quick to kick it away and out of reach, and adeline is tired, thirsty, and near delusional from being in the heat and arena for so long, that the ripping squelch that sounds out on speakers across the country as the girl from 2 shoves the end of her spear into adeline's chest, comes almost as a blessing, ending her pain at last.

the gamemakers are able to lure the girl from two to the girl from 11's hiding spot after that, and the final battle ensues, the girl from 2 rising up on top, bloodied and battered but grinning with the glee and pride only those in the career districts could have after killing and coming out on top over 23 other children.

you barely have time to mourn adeline's death, you and nayeon are both thrusted into interviews immediately, forced to watch replays and close-ups of the killing, to watch the life drain out of adeline’s eyes over and over again, asked for comments and messages to send back home, to congratulate the winner on becoming one of you, a murderer.

and even worse, when the day’s finally over and you can retire to your safe space in your apartment for your last night there, nayeon is called out for a premium customer, someone paying triple the normal fare to spend one more night with her before she goes back to her district. so you're left alone, watching repeated news coverage of the hunger games from start to finish, dolled up 'scientists' and gamemakers being brought on for interviews and time to analyse kills and strategies the tributes used, milking every drop of profit and entertainment out of the deaths of children not their own.

you'd watch something else but every channel on capitol television is talking about the end of the games, you switch every time your face, or your post-games interview comes up, cringing at the way you looked and spoke, feeling as if you betrayed your district for dishonouring adeline and julian's deaths by dragging them out for the enjoyment of people who never cared for them, wanting desperately to go home and find their parents and offer your condolences, and maybe sneak some of your victor rations to their families so they at least didn't have to worry about another death. you were determined to take care of all of your mentee's families, you know it's what you would've wanted if you had died in that arena.

by the time nayeon comes back, you've already settled in her bed, cuddled up on her side and taking in the scent she's left behind, the tv still playing in her room at a low volume.

you sit up immediately when you hear her come into the room, closing the door softly behind her. she looks at you and smiles defeatedly. "you look cute."

you blush, burrowing into her sheets more which only serves to widen the smile on her face, "are you okay?" you ask.

"i need a shower."

she doesn't say anything else. you remember the last time she came home this late, not having eaten anything and only wanting to get rid of the feeling of another person's hands on her body off of her. you nod, shy, letting her walk around collecting clothes and heading into the bathroom.

she doesn't bother closing the door. you appreciate the gesture. it's a dramatic change from the first time she had locked you outside her room unknowingly, to think she trusts you enough to leave the door unlocked in her most vulnerable state warms your heart. you hate the capitol for what they've done to her, what they'll continue to do to her. at least this was the last time she would have to do it alone, she had talked to higher ups in the capitol and gotten president snow himself to agree to your proposition, you'd hope your presence would at least ease some of the tension she felt during those sessions.

you hear the shower turn on, and you hesitate, thinking over your next moves carefully.

after some deliberation, you quietly move off her bed, padding to the bathroom and stripping off the pyjamas you had already put on when you were getting ready for bed.

you stand outside the fogged up door for a second, admiring her silhouette, but soon grow cold, opening the door gently and announcing your presence to not frighten her.

she turns, surprised, bar of soap in her hand, hair wet and squinting at you without her glasses or contacts on. she's adorable.

"y/n?"

"hi... is it okay if i join you?" your arms bracket your chest, suddenly shy even though she's seen all of you already.

she smiles, pulling you in under the stream of hot water, "of course. i'm sorry i'm not really feeling up to doing anything today-"

"no! i didn't- no i didn't come in with that intention i just... wanted to help you get clean."

she blinks up at you, water still running over her face and hair, and then she pulls you down into a wet kiss, arms still holding onto yours as you kiss her back sweetly.

you break away first, smiling and nudging your nose against hers, "turn around, i'll do your back first."

she follows, bending her neck down so the water doesn't get in her eyes, handing you the bar of soap she was holding.

you lather her back up, caressing the small scars and moles you had memorised. you had asked the story of each one, and nayeon had told you. your heart broke with each scar, most of them from her games, but some of them from rougher times with clients, others from when she was even younger, working the fields and factories back home. there were more from when she was young, but most of them were surgically removed or fixed when she was first fitted for her games, her stylists wanted her to look as young and as pure as her age suggested, hoping to entice sponsors either out of pity or admiration.

you rub her shoulders, work the knots in her back while you wash her, feel her relax under your touch.

when you get to her right thigh, you're extremely careful, and nayeon takes notice.

"it's okay. it doesn't hurt anymore."

you frown, rubbing gently over the largest scar on her body, the one she covered up most often and got in her finale fight in the games. "i know. i still want to be careful though."

she smiles, pecking your cheek while you concentrate on cleaning her to the best of your ability. she had opened up about how disgusted she would feel in her own body after she would come back from sessions with her clients, often spending an hour or more scrubbing away at her skin until it was red and irritated and hurt to continue before she finally felt clean. you were determined to make her feel loved, feel safe in her own skin, and do so without hurting her.

when you finally come out of the shower, you're quick to wrap her up in a towel first, patting the rest of her down dry and sitting her down on a stool, grabbing the hair dryer and brush.

she scolds you in the process, telling you you'll catch a cold if you don't dry yourself off first. you pout but do as she says, quickly drying yourself off and slipping into your pyjamas again.

then your hands are back at her hair, combing through gently with your fingers first, before turning on the hair dryer.

she watches you with a smile, her eyes crinkling upwards at the way your eyebrows furrow in concentration, drying each part of her head with meticulous attention.

when it's just slightly damp you turn it off, placing it back down and start to brush through her hair, wincing and apologising with each knot you work through. nayeon giggles, constantly reassuring you it was fine with each apology, but her reassurances do little to quell your concern.

it's quiet, peaceful in the bathroom, just the two of you.

"my mother used to do this for me when i was young."

"mine too."

"it feels nice."

"i'm glad."

"are you ready to go back?"

"as long as i have you."

"you'll always have me."

you meet her eyes in the mirror, "will your mother be okay with this?"

"you brushing my hair?" she jokes.

you whine, "you know what i meant. us."

she smiles, "yes. both my mother and my sister only want to see me happy. they know how much the games affected me, they're just glad i'm still alive."

"mine too." you repeat.

"…even if they weren't, you know i wouldn't stop wanting to be with you right?"

you blush again, easily affected by her, "i know."

she nods, satisfied, the both of you falling into an easy silence again.

you think this isn't too bad. living out the rest of your life with nayeon like this. she helped you forget all the bad stuff, but also reminded you of all the things you've been through together, you healed each other. in no other universe, no other situation, no other time, would you be able to find this kind of love with nayeon, and that little special thing the both of you share, it makes everything you've gone through and will go through a little more bearable.

#nayeon #im nayeon #twice nayeon #nayeon x reader #twice nayeon x reader #im nayeon x reader #nayeon angst #twice x reader #twice imagines #nayeon imagines #dovveri

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gavisimmaculaterizz · 8 months ago

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bb can u write something like jude coming home from practice and being angry, mad or something, and just storming off in his room, and later on (female) reader falls asleep on the couch teary eyed bcz she doesn't know what she did wrong

— bother / jude bellingham.

summary: jude cant hold in his anger from losing his match, resulting in a distant jude.

warnings: a bit of angst ??

masterlist

as the final whistle blew, distant whistles and boos came from the santiago bernabéu. the night in madrid was cold, the huge loss of the white giants filled the madrid air with coldness. as fans exited the stadium, jude proceeded to go to the locker room furious. he couldn’t help but feel anger, not being able to help his team out with at least scoring a goal. he disappointed the fans, maybe even his girlfriend. he mentally cursed himself out for not showing his potential, preparing for the hate he’d get on twitter by fellow madridistas.

meanwhile at the comfort of your shared apartment, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of sadness watching your boyfriends team lose heavily. you turned off the television, feeling sadness wash over you, over the terrible result in the bernabéu that just happened moments ago. you hated seeing your boyfriend sad, knowing these type of losses affected him heavily.

a couple hours later, the noise of bags falling echoed around the silent home. you ran to jude, excited to hug him and welcome him in. when reaching the tall british, you were welcomed with a cold and distant jude. “hey babe how was your game?”, you asked your boyfriend. upon your question, jude’s facial expression changed heavily. “what do you mean how was my game? did you even pay attention to what just happened?”,he asked furiously. his words hit you like a cold dagger that was plummeted into your heart, dry and distant, with a hint of anger still lingering in his voice. “do you want to talk about it?”, you asked trying to console your boyfriend. his words broke you, all you tried to do was ask if his game went okay, even though you’d know what his response would be. “no, god just leave me alone— you’re such a bother y/n.”, jude stated furiously. he quickly stormed off to your shared room, shutting the door loudly, letting you know to not even step foot into the room. your heart broke, you couldn’t contain your tears anymore.

you ran to your living room in tears, only seeing blurriness, and tasting the saltiness water streaming down your face. you mentally cursed yourself out feeling guilty for making him angry, even though it was not your fault at all. you knew he was a bit pissed off from his game still , but you never meant to provoke him even more than he was. you laid down on your sofa, grabbing a blanket and covering yourself completely. you wanted to give him space, let him cool down a bit.

meanwhile in your little bubble, your thoughts raced, ‘was it my fault for making him angry?’ you kept sobbing, overloading yourself with these negative thoughts. you let yourself cry until you couldn’t anymore. all you let out were heavy breaths which occupied the quiet home. with all the crying, it made you sleepy, and you couldn’t help but doze off into the night sky. you would soon be awaiting your boyfriends apology in the morning.

but was he right about you being a bother..?

a/n: i kind of tweaked it a bit anon!! also this is my first fic so im mentally cringing at myself bc im not used to this 🙁, so i hope yall like it

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham x you #real madrid #jude bellingham angst

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cranberryjuice-posts · 9 months ago

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hiii want to say that i just met your blog and i obsessed with it!! i really love your writing. anddd i want to make a abby request, abby and reader are in college and abby is like super popular and when they start to date reader is called “abbys girl” all the time and get super flustered? i dont know if i express myself good, english is not my first language, sorry! hope u have a amazing day, xoxo <3

- Abby’s girl -

Pairings - modern au! Abby Anderson x Fem! Reader

An - this is kinda bad I’m sorry 😭😭 I wasn’t really sure what plot to write but I still appreciate the request.

Everybody was cheering. With only a minute left on the clock the Seattle wolves vrs the Jackson mustangs— one of the oldest lasting rivals on and off the court, were pushing one another around trying to keep Abby from making her shot.

The blonde dodged around trying to avoid the other team. Making it to the 3 point line she threw the ball. Going through the hoop the clock blared at the same time, the referees announced the wolves win making the home side scream with excitement.

Abby shouted happily, making eye contact with you she grinned. Making your way out of the stands was easier said then done.

Eventually getting to the locker room you walked towards Abby’s spot. One of her teammates walked past you taking a moment to say hi. “Shit It’s Abby’s girl, hey she’s just over there the girls are cheering for her”

You felt your face turn red, “oh thanks” with a smile you watched as she walked away before going towards the shouting. Being the girlfriend of the basketball team captain tended to help boost your own reputation. Most of them didn’t know your name only addressing you as ‘Abby’s girl’.

Was it your preferred way of being addressed… well no. But it wasn’t the end of the world, all it did really was embarrass you.

Setting your purse down by Abby’s duffel bag on the bench you watched as the girls other girls crowded around her, chanting Abby’s name while they all celebrated their big win which would now take them to state. You were and always will be Abby’s biggest supporter, no matter what you would never miss any of her games.

She instantly noticed your presence, breaking free abby quickly made her way to you. Grabbing you by the waist she pulled you into a messy kiss. It was full of adrenaline and not coordinated. Pulling back Abby kept her face close to yours. A few of the other girls on the team chuckled at the display making you blush. “Hey” abby flirted against your lips.

“Hi” You giggled “You did amazing out there.. I mean really I genuinely believe Your Gonna win this thing”

“And im Gonna do even better tonight” she continued her cocky streak, pressing your hips against hers.

You rolled your eyes finding her attempts at seduction funny. “Uh huh, I’m gonna wait for you outside ok” kissing her one more time you gasped as she grabbed your ass. You rolled your eyes as you pulled back, giving her a warning look as Abby remained on her high.

—

You sat down on a bench near by the exit. Pulling out your phone you started to scroll on Instagram, trying to decided what to make a post about. That and finding a new restaurant near by to take Abby to, just to celebrate her big win before she actually tried to get you pregnant.

“So your Abby’s girl huh?” A woman spoke. Looking up you were taken back by seeing Ellie Williams the Jackson mustangs team captain.

Confused you nodded “uh yeah..”

She just scoffed. “How the hell did she manage to pull you” standing up you grabbed your purse, Ellie knew you had been offended by what she said.

“First of all she didn’t pull anyone, how we got into a relationship was because she’s a good person and secondly” you looked her up and down “why are you even over here, your bus is on the other side of campus”

“Damn, I was just asking” she laughed crossing her arms “but seriously though Abby? Her being a good person, that’s total bullshit she’s anything but good, besides I can do anything she does”

“Except win a Game”

You could tell Ellie was starting to loose her patience. Why was she over by you, to hell if you knew. There was a tense silence between you both, before she could speak the back door opened.

Abby stood tall and strong as always only her former grin was replaced with a look of disgust. Getting up you walked over to her, kissing her cheek. “Williams”

“Anderson”

Both girls staring at each-other with a Look of hate, You had heard Time and time again the rivalry between the two schools and between their families. “Why are You over here, and better question why are you talking to my girl”

“Fuck dude nobody’s trying to fight Dina just forgot her bag inside I offered to come get it.” Ellie looked at one once again before gesturing her head to Abby. “Your Girl seems like a real catch, guess you got lucky”

“Guess i did” her response was harsh. At this point you were fed up with the conversation and dealing with Ellie. Grabbing Abby’s hand you pulled her away.

——

Sitting on Abby’s bed you laughed softly at watching her go on a rant. “And don’t get me started on Joel the sheer fucking audacity of that man! He punched my dad because he couldn’t help Ellie. I repeat he punched MY DAD— why are you laughing”

“Nothing Nothing its Just.. your really cute when you get mad” Abby flipped you off making you laugh once again. After a moment she sat down on the bed beside you, taking a calming breath she leaned over kissing you softly, slowly, sensually.. pulling back she gently squeezed your hand.

“What did I do to deserve you” she muttered.

“Not much but working out and getting buff and being blonde helped, you know the important shit” you gave her a charismatic smile

“Your not Funny”

“I’m hilarious”

#lesbian #wlw #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson tlou2 #abby headcanons #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson #tlou fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us

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4unnyr0se · 5 months ago

Note

Hi love your writing!! I havent touched HQ in 3 years but Im starting to love old characters I use to fall in love with like Asahi, Oikawa, Bokuto etc,,, so as my first req, could you pls write fem! Reader x Bokuto fluff in HS?

Like Bokuto trying to court the reader. How would that go? And how did he finally ask us out?

Feel free to ignore this if you dont like the idea! Ty for ur time 🤍❤️🤍

❥ young love at fukurodani | kotaro bokuto

warnings: none that i can think of. this is pure fluff

MDNI | No 18+ content, I just don't want minors interacting with my blog

word count -> 1.6k

okay so aaaa this didn't rlly follow the ask bc all he does is ask reader to tutor him and then cute stuff happens but i can make a hc of it probably tonight or tomorrow?? also i wrote this when i was having tummy issues so im very sorry if its horrible. i love u!

got a request? my asks are open!

Bokuto wasn’t one to get embarrassed that easily. Sure, he did embarrassing things but didn’t know they were embarrassing. They were part of his boyish charm, which people loved about him…right? Of course, they did. He was Kotaro Bokuto. He was Fukurodani’s ace, and the people loved him for it. So why, if he was so confident, did he get awkward and embarrassed around you, his pretty classmate?

Saying you were gorgeous was an understatement. He couldn’t find the right words to describe you to his friends, mainly Akaashi. “She’s just like, y’know? And I’m like, oh damn! She’s cute as fuck!” Boktuo would make various gestures with his hands as he and Akaashi sat on the steps leading to the gym, sipping cola from the vending machine. “What do I do, Akaashi? She’s so pretty, and I’m pretty too! The only problem is that everyone else in our year thinks so, too…do I even have a shot?”

Akaashi would offer him a pitiful smile, rubbing his back in assurance. “Well, isn’t she one of the smartest in our year?”

“Yeah, smart and pretty. She’s so fucking perfect, I wish you could see her.” he pouted.

“Well, the answer is simple,” Akaashi said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Ask her for help with homework; god knows you need it.”

“Hey! I got a 41 on my chemistry test!” Bokuto yelled at Akaashi as the setter entered the gym. But he did have a point, like always. Bokuto decided then and there that he would ask you to tutor him tomorrow, no matter how anxious he was. Anxiety was for suckers anyway.

“Hey, wait up!” Bokuto ran after you as you exited your classroom, papers flying out of his messy bookbag that was riddled with stains from only God knows what. “I gotta ask you a question!”

You stopped walking and turned your heel, raising an eyebrow as the Fukurodani captain barreled towards you. “Hey, what’s up, Bokuto? How’s volleyball going? Are we headed to nationals?” you asked, placing a hand on your hip. God, even the way you held yourself was perfect. Were you an actual goddess, or was Bokuto just lovestruck?

Bokuto finally caught up to you, leaning against the hallway walls in an attempt to appear suave and put-together. His messy uniform didn’t help his cause, but he forgot to look neat today. And every day after that. “Uh, I was wondering if you understood what we were assigned in English yesterday? I don’t understand any of it to save my skin, hah,” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes. “Did you get what our teacher was saying?”

“Yeah, it was really simple. Just basic grammar and syntax structures. Was it complicated for you?” you tilted your head to the side.

“I don’t really get it. Wanna tutor me at my house today? I can get you snacks!” he offered you a crooked smile, leaning forward so his golden eyes peered into yours. “C’mon, please? The coach will kick my ass if I don’t get my grades up, and I have a game next week! Pretty please?” he folded his hands in prayer, his bottom lip in a childish pout.

You smiled and nodded, grabbing him off the wall. Bokuto blushed at the sudden contact, noticing how neat you kept your fingernails compared to his own. Yours were neatly polished to perfection while he bit his nails almost constantly, and being a wing spiker didn’t come with having good-looking nails.

“Where’s your house? Is it walking distance?” you let go of his hand, much to Bokuto’s dismay.

“Yeah, it’s about five minutes from here. Wanna stop at a convenience store on the way? I’m really hungry.” he rubbed his stomach as you two walked out the nearest exit, your messenger bag dangling over your shoulder.

“Only if you’re paying,” you joked, rubbing his shoulder. Bokuto could have sworn his heart stopped right then and there. Were you actually flirting with him, or were you just really touchy? Either way, it was a win in his book.

“Sure, I don’t mind. Anything for a pretty girl like yo-” Bokuto stopped his sentence, smacking his hand over his mouth. “I-I mean, why wouldn’t I mind? I’m a captain, after all. It’s my job to provide for my teammates!”

“But I’m not on any sports teams. I’m not your teammate.” you deadpanned,

“You know what I mean!” Bokuto whined, wiping his forehead of the sweat that was slowly starting to gather. “Damn, it’s a hot one today. Why won’t they let the guys wear shorts? Do they want us to die of heat stroke or something?”

“I honestly have no idea,” you sighed, walking under the shade of the convenience store roof. “Wait a minute,” you instructed, placing your messenger bag on the hot pavement. You shrugged off your school blazer and wrapped it around your waist tightly in an attempt to cool you off. You also rolled up the sleeves of your white blouse, loosening your collar. “Sorry, I’m just really warm. At least we get to wear skirts, right?” you offered him a lopsided smile.

Bokuto’s heart pounded in his chest. “Uh, yeah, you girls are so lucky. Wearing skirts must feel awesome.”

“It’s awesome until you catch someone trying to look it up,” you mumbled in annoyance, hoisting your bag over your shoulders.

“What the actual fuck? Who was it? I’ll murder them! I'll text Konoha too; he’ll definitely want in on it,” Bokuto clenched his fists together, walking into the store with you. “I’m sorry that happened to you, honestly.

You shrugged your shoulder and rummaged through the ice cream pin, choosing a passionfruit-flavored ice bar. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I barely know you, anyways.”

“That doesn’t mean that I can’t protect you from jerks like that guy,” Bokuto angrily shoved his hands in his pockets, tapping his foot on the tile. He fished about 400 yen out of his pocket and handed it to the cashier, ushering you out of the shop as quickly as possible.

“What was that for?” you asked, unwrapping the popsicle.

“I didn’t like how he looked at you, that’s all.” Bokuto huffed. He made grabby motions for your bookbag, which you handed to him with a confused look on your features. “Let me carry that, please. You’re too pretty to carry heavy stuff around like that all day.”

You paused your walk and stared at Bokuto, blushing softly. “You think I’m pretty?”

Bokuto slowly nodded and gave you a crooked smile, blushing in turn. “Yeah, I really do. I was afraid to tell you before, but now I’m all fired up. I wanna protect you from creeps, y’know?”

You popped the ice treat out of your mouth and stepped forward, smiling softly. “We barely know each other, and you want to keep me safe? We haven’t even hung out once.”

“We’re heading to my house right now, aren’t we?” Bokuto shrugged, his blush not fading.

You chuckled and took another step forward, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. “Yeah, I guess we are,” you whispered, your lips dangerously close to his own. “You know, I always thought you were kind of cute. In the athletic kind of way, I suppose.”

Bokuto dropped the bags he held onto the hot concrete beneath you, praying they wouldn’t roll down the hill you were standing on. You two were in a remote location, and the tension was thick. “You think I’m cute?” he tilted his head to the side, his eyelids dropping halfway.

“Mhm,” you purred, your popsicle dripping from the intense heat. “Super cute.”

“Fuck,” Bokuto’s hands hovered above your waist, unsure of what you wanted him to do. “Uh, is it okay if I kiss you? Please, cutie?” he quietly pleaded, your lips basically touching at this point.

You smiled and nodded, holding your melting popsicle behind your back. “Mhm, it’s okay.”

Bokuto smiled as his lips interlocked with yours for a minute, savoring the sweet passionfruit flavor that coated them. His hands squeezed your waist childishly, never wanting this moment between the two of you to end. This kiss was exactly how he dreamed it would be, soft and perfect. Just like you.

You pulled away after a bit and giggled, your popsicle having since fallen onto the heated pavement. Your sticky hands cupped his face, the pads of your thumbs running over his defined cheekbones. “You’re a good kisser,” you pecked his forehead bravely. “Like, a really good kisser.”

“Same to you, cutie,” his hands left your waist, choosing to instead secure your wrists. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that. So. Fucking. Long.”

A chuckle escaped your lips as your hands fell to your waist again, intertwining your fingers with Bokuto’s. You had never notified it before, but he was much bigger than you. It made you feel safe and secure. Protected. “We should probably get to your house to study, shouldn’t we?”

“Aw, I was having so much fun kissing you on the sidewalk!” Bokuto pretended to whine, kicking a loose pebble that was in his way. He easily picked up the bags with his spare hand and tossed them over his broad shoulder.

“Tell you what,” you squeezed his hand. “For every question you get right, I’ll give you a kiss. Does that sound like a fair deal?”

“Hell yeah, it does!” Bokuto kissed you on the cheek in excitement. He practically skipped to his house with you in tow, excited for what the rest of the day would have in store.

#haikyuu bokuto #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #bokuto x reader #kotaro bokuto #bokuto fluff

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morphids · 3 months ago

Text

well, two can play that game (pt.2), abby anderson

part one here!

pairing: basketball player!abby anderson x afab! reader (college au)

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!!!! poc friendly!! r has curly hair, past hurt/comfort, past relationships, petnames used in place of actual name, bff!dina x r, very abby focused chapter, abby is incredibly sweet n patient until she fucks u… ellie and abby are sort of archenemies, a lil ellie slander, abby talks u thru it, r gets strapped down in a car 🫣, pussydrunk ramblings, praise, abby calls the strap her cock sorry 😮‍💨

summary: part 2: after ellie left you at the party, you find comfort in the arms of another. perhaps it’s better this way?

wc: 5k (not proofread im sorry y’all my eyes hurt)

2 posts in less than a month?? who am i?? anyway the abby brainrot is rife recently im sorry if its ass.

AS ALWAYS FUCK DRUCKMANN AND ALL ZIONISTS, resources for Palestine and the daily click linked on my pinned post!

—

You were left in the empty bathroom, alone and very pissed off. She ignores you for months, then does this? No, you were more than pissed. You fixed your makeup, more like wiped it all off, and readjusted your clothes, trying to somewhat freshen yourself up before facing the world outside. Your legs still slightly shaking as you thought back to your previous interaction with Ellie. How dare she? She's the one who left. You shuddered, a horrible feeling ripping itself up in your chest, you felt used.

You shook your head, taking one final glance at the mirror before exiting the bathroom. You really only had one mission, get the fuck out of here and go home. Not bothering to say goodbye to your friends, you'd send a text explanation to Dina, surely she'd understand. You just couldn't be here right now, after that. Your legs carried you down the stairs, tunnel vision towards the front door at the end. You frowned, feeling bad that you'd be leaving Dina's on her birthday so you glanced back trying to find her within the crowd. Upon looking, you spotted her and Jesse... and Ellie. She didn't leave? You panicked, instantly looking away, not wanting -Ellie- anyone to see you as you opened the door and strode a few steps in front the road.

Grabbing a single cigarette from your pack and lighting it, you reached for your phone and quickly typed out a message to Dina. As your shaking hands were drafting a whole essay about what had happened, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, so gentle it almost indicated that they were trying not to alarm you. Despite their efforts, you were a jumpy person so you swiftly reacted and turned to look at who was trying to get your attention.

"Hey, you alright?" The person revealed themselves as the one you had been enjoying speaking to before the night had been ruined.

"Oh, Abby," You were slightly shocked, admittedly. The little stunt that Ellie pulled must've given you some form of brain damage because Abby had ultimately left your thoughts, "Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled at her, at least what you thought was a smile, it must've looked more like an odd grimace because Abby then spoke,

"You sure, you look a bit... shaken." Her words were hesitant, eyes studying you, you must've looked as bad as you felt.

"Sorry, yeah, just..." you paused, "Need to get out of here." You took another drag, your cigarette almost at its end.

"Do you have a ride home?" She asked, those maldito crystal blue eyes furrowed with worry, she was not about to leave a distressed girl on the side of the street alone at night, Abby thought.

"I'll just book a taxi," you explained, not wanting to burden the poor woman. She didn't deserve to be brought into this mess. The plan of the night was for you to stay at Dina's, knowing that you were a bit broke currently, but that was no longer an option for you, especially if Ellie was planning on lingering around.

"I can drive you home, if you'd like." Abby stated, her firm hand resting on top of your shoulder, noticing you shake from the cold weather of the night. "I haven't drank all night, if that makes you feel better?" She firmed, the corner of her lips stretching out into a slight smile with hopes of helping you perk up a little. It was working.

"I don't want to trouble yo-"

"If you truly don't want to, that's okay," she reassured, "But if you're just saying that not to be a burden on me, that's silly. You look stressed, I'd like to help."

Her catching you out made you chuckle, you were once again, reminded that you had been having great conversations with her before that interruption. You let out a sigh,

"Okay, you got me, I'd really appreciate a ride." That caused her smile to grow, as she looked down at you, straightening herself up before grabbing her keys from her pocket.

"Perfect, let's go."

The car was slightly frosted over, a cool air flowing through the vehicle as Abby handled the steering wheel with the utmost confidence.

"Thank you,"

"You don't need to say thank you, glad to help," Abby spoke.

A few silent moments passed, questions noticeably waiting to be asked,

"So, what happened back there?"

You stilled, an air of shame washing over you,

"Um," You were slightly embarrassed, after all you were flirting with Abby at the party just seconds before the whole ordeal with Ellie, you didn't want her to think a certain way about you. Especially since she was so kindly driving you home.

"Something happened with my ex," You sighed, deciding to bite the bullet.

"Doesn't sound too good," She responded, eyes darting to glance at you before focusing back on the road. You didn't live that far from Dina's, you were probably due to arrive soon.

"That's an understatement," You paused, "I just don't understand women."

Abby let out a quick laugh,

"You and me both,"

"I mean, she ghosts me, then shows up with one of her new conquests and then fucks me in the bathroom because she saw me talking to you and leaves?" You blurted out, clearly needing to vent about it, you suddenly remembered you never ended up actually sending that text to Dina.

"Oh," Abby paused, clearly not expecting that, she recovered and quickly added, "That's awful, I'm sorry." You studied her a little, looking for any signs that she was disgusted or put off, there didn't seem to be any.

"Don't be, Ellie's not exactly the picture of healthy relationships."

"Wait, Ellie? Williams?"

"Yeah?"

"Damn, hasn't changed, has she?"

"What do you mean?" You pressed, recognising the familiar turns of your street, you mentally swore, of course it starts getting juicy just as you begin to reach home.

"Just... had an issue with her a while back, after one of our basketball games,"

Abby's car slowed to a stall, the lack of momentum had emphasised the hum of the engine and the repetitive blinks of the indicator.

Abby turned now to look at you, turning off the engine, her right arm resting on the steering wheel, your eyes couldn't help but glaze your attention on the curves of her muscles, you looked away before she caught you staring.

"Honestly, it was so long ago, but she kinda got involved with two girls on the team," You silently gaped at her, wordlessly allowing her to continue, this was news to you - did Dina know any of this?

"Basically, neither of them knew about it until Ellie got caught making out with someone else during that party after the game. We all kinda lost our shit with her and I think there was punches thrown? Kicked a lot of shit off between the team and kinda ruined the flow of our games for a while, we're all over it now but..."

"Oh," Was all you could say, you really dated Ellie not knowing anything about this. Has she always been the type of person to jump from ship to ship? You shuddered at the thought that you were just another addition to a rather extensive list.

"Sorry, I thought you would've known about it," Abby sympathised,

"No, it's not your fault." You sighed, at least now you knew the kind of person you were actually dealing with. It fuelled your anger, especially with how she behaved earlier.

A still second passed inside the car, the indicator still blinking and you suddenly felt all the more embarrassed.

"Well, sorry about all this, thank you for the ride home. I do appreciate it," You unclipped your seatbelt, turning your body slightly to grab the handle and make your exit.

"You gonna be alright?" Abby questioned, her blue eyes looking up at you, there was an unreadable expression within them, not pity but something else.

"I think? Probably just gonna rot for the next few hours," You paused, turning to face her fully. You were still on edge from before, and with this new information you didn't feel like being alone. You shouldn't do this, you shouldn't do it at all. She's probably so tired of your shit already. Yet the words forced themselves out faster than you could do anything to stop them,

"You don't have to, but would you like to come in? I could make you a hot drink or something as thanks?"

The corners of her lips turned upwards,

"I'd love to,"

—

You had brewed two mugs of hot chocolate, turning away from the counter to face the tall blonde that now sat in your living room.

"Thanks," she smiled as she took the hot cup from your grasp. Joining her on the couch, you hesitated - what now?

Do you pop a movie on? Do you play music? Your brain was begin to work overtime as you suddenly felt awkward.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry," you say, finally adjusting to get comfortable on the pillows.

"You were staring at your drink for a while, there." She chuckled, blowing on the hot drink before taking a sip whilst maintaining eye contact with you.

"Got lost in the sauce again," You joked, not wanting to speak about Ellie any longer.

"Happens often?" She teased, one corner of her lips quipped up slightly.

"More than I'd like to admit,"

"Thanks again, for the ride."

"You don't have to keep saying thank you, angel, it wasn't even a ten minute drive." She explained, you felt more at ease. Abby truly was something else, she had this comforting air around her where you just felt safe and understood.

"Still, you didn't have to,"

"Darling, I'm gonna need you to stop saying thank you for basic human decency," She insisted, her tone firm but gentle, her eyebrows moved in a way you could only read as 'you know?'.

"You don't owe me anything, alright? I just wanted to make sure you got home okay." Abby proclaimed, her voice lowering, becoming shy, almost. "If it helps, I'm glad Dina introduced us."

You felt a tug in your chest as you processed her words. You met her eyes, a warm feeling washed over you, uh oh.

"I'm glad she introduced us, too."

She seemed satisfied with that, a smile coating her lips as she turned her attention back away to her drink.

You decided to get yourself off the couch, Abby's light eyes following your trail, still encompassing the almost finished mug with her hands. You bent down, on your knees in front of her, Abby was suddenly glad your back was facing her, as her eyes would've certainly made you privy to where her gaze had landed.

You reached underneath your coffee table, aimlessly throwing your hand underneath it into the separate compartments. Abby was mentally cursing herself for looking, yet your shirt had ridden up slightly, the bend of the dimpled bottom of your back leading to the perfect curve of your ass— Abby looked away, she didn't want to think thoughts like that about you, not under these circumstances, at least. Stop being such a lesbian, Abby- She thought.

Truth is, Abby really liked talking to you at Dina's party. She was enthralled as soon as Dina brought you over to her, your thick curls perfectly framing your face, she thought back to when you told her your name, the way your velvety lips moved with the words and the way your eyes sparkled as you took in her frame.

She quickly discovered you were easy to talk to and there was clearly mutual attraction there, but she didn't want to pressure you into anything, especially since Abby figured Ellie had done enough damage for one night. Abby thought to what you said, how all of that happened because Ellie saw you talking with her, it angered her, you deserved so much better than that, but it also gave her an odd feeling of subtle pride. Ellie felt jealous over her? Well, then she should've acted right, Abby thought, thoughts interrupted by your voice.

"Ah!" You breathed out, finally grabbing what you were looking for. With your free hand, you pulled the hem of your shirt back down a bit, turning to Abby who was busy downing the rest of her drink to avoid looking at you.

She propped the mug on the table, before muttering,

"Jenga?" A chuckle escaped her, a warm feeling grew in her chest as she saw the impish look on your face,

"Come on, it's old but it's a classic— and, it has questions on them, what do you say?" Abby took in your features, eyes glinting with excitement and lips curved into an expectant smile. Her breathing sped up, air suddenly trapped.

"How can I say no to that?"

—

"I give it a week." Dina exclaimed, an isolated smirk on her face, you had just told her about your night with Abby after her party. You had ended up just playing silly board games and talking most of the night, to Dina's discontent apparently as a she was currently placing bets on when you and Abby will undoubtedly sleep together, her words.

"Dina!"

"Come on, you're lesbians. It's the prophecy."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head at her as you secured your earrings on.

You glanced over at yourself on the full length mirror in Dina's bedroom, unsure.

"You look hot, don't worry," she smiled, "Lowers my bets to less than three days." Dina finished with a wink, walking with you to the entrance of the house.

Her confidence only seemed to make you more nervous, Abby had invited you to a party with her teammates, you would've dragged Dina with you but lucky for you, she had already made plans with Ellie.

Ellie. Even mentally, her name was thought of with disdain. You hadn't seen her since that night, nor did you want to. Right now, your focus was on Abby, and you didn't want to let her have enough power to sour your entire night.

Your phone buzzed, a message from Abby saying she was parked outside,

"She here?"

"Yeah,"

"Alright, well good luck~" She gushed, almost pushing you out the door. Dina felt content, knowing that she was helping you get over Ellie, even a little. She loved you both, but she couldn't sit back and watch that particular fire burn itself out.

You stepped out of Dina's place, making your way over to the only car outside you recognised, where Abby was standing in between the driver's seat and the car door. God, she looked good.

Abby glanced up from her phone before smiling widely at you.

"Hey, pretty, you ready?" Her voice was so soft, you found yourself hanging on every syllable she uttered. You tried to control your facial response to her words, even though, you are almost certain that she knows exactly how you feel about her. She seemed to get this impish expression in her eyes. Mirth.

You wonder if she feels the same thing.

"Born ready." You smile back up at her, Abby opens the passenger door for you and waits until you're fully settled into the seat before shutting the door, making her way around to her side and joining you.

Clicking her seatbelt into place and switching on the ignition, her larger hand finds its way on to the top of your thigh, fingers spaced out confidently as her thumb strokes your skin over your jeans.

You fight the urge to adjust your body, suddenly hyperaware of the way your body is reacting to such a simple act.

"Let's go then,"

—

Abby stops by her house before the party, had to grab something apparently.

She parked her car inside the blocky carpark for her apartment building, managing to find a space somewhere in this car maze. Turning the ignition off, she moved her hand off your thigh, not before turning her gaze towards you.

It looks like she has something to say, yet no words escape her.

You take the opportunity to look at her, her features, your eyes trailing down her face to her plump lips.

"You're beautiful, you know." You say to her, you feel yourself enter some sort of daze. No other thoughts, all you can think and inhale is Abby. Your mind completely clouded and the only clarity being her.

You see a flash of red cross her cheeks, though she quickly steeled her expression, the left corner of her lips tilting up as her eyes landed on your own lips.

Abby clicks off her seatbelt, her hands coming back to return to their comfortable spot on your thighs, slightly wrapping her fingers around the outside of them as she lightly grabs you a little closer to her.

Your faces are inches apart now, you glance down at her lips, clicking off your own seatbelt before placing yourself on her lap in the driver's seat. You connect your lips with hers as your hands meet the back of her neck.

Abby quickly responds and returns the kiss, tightening her grip on your thighs, her other hand running up your side, softly making contact with your back.

You slowly wind your hips across hers, dragging yourself up using the force of your legs which are spread over her lap.

Her mouth opens slightly as you start making out. Tongue softly brushing over her bottom lip before you gently bite and pull her skin down, causing a moan to escape her lips.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're going to make me do something stupid." Her voice low, warm with honey.

Her hands crawl back down to the top of your jeans, underneath the fabric to meet the back of your ass, kneading your skin with a strong grip, groaning as she was actually touching you after cursing herself out for even glancing at your exposed back the other night. A part of her was relieved that you wanted this just as bad as she did.

"Like what?" You tease, placing gentle kisses on her neck, alternating different amounts of pressure as you kissed up to behind her ear.

"Like fuck you in my car." You shuddered.

"Maybe that's what I'm after," You drag your hips across hers again, meeting her lips once more in an ardent kiss.

"Careful," She whispered, fingers tightening around the ample skin of your cheeks, pecking your lips lightly, "Don't do anything you'd regret."

You chuckled, "Baby if I regret anything, it wouldn't be you." Looking at her through your lashes, eyes doe and wanting, lips plump and swollen, Abby found it harder to be a voice of reason, especially when the very picture of enticement was sat pretty on her lap, uttering words that were ever so sweet and inviting. Her resolve was dropping, made obvious by the way her chest raised and sank with each breath, her pupils blowing out the blue of her eyes slightly. She decided, then, that you were going to be the death of her.

Your lips met again, the pacing quickened this time, "Well, in that case," she muttered, taking advantage of the way her hands were already cupping your ass to slowly drive your hips over her thigh. Abby inched her head into the curve of your neck as she left feathery pecks on the supple skin, lifting her knee an inch higher to graze your centre, the tips of her eyebrows lifting as she spoke, “Can I?”

Needing to take a deep breath to calm your speeding heart rate, thinking if she really needed to ask at this point when you were so clearly turned on right now. “I swear, I’ll die right now, if you don’t,” You managed to let out, trying to rub yourself against her as the pressure building up was getting unbearable. Abby breathed out a soft laugh, resuming her attack on your neck and up to your earlobe, you almost cried from the sensitivity that eagerness had cursed you with, you were thankful that night had fallen, the darkened shadows of the late hours hiding your depraved salacity.

Tongue grazing the skin underneath your ear, Abby shuffled a little in her seat, exposing something solid underneath your leg, concealed under her jeans, your eyebrows furrowed and eyelids jolted open, had that been there this whole time? The newly discovered information had your mind reeling, obscene thoughts reigning your head as you realised she must’ve been walking around with that thing. You wondered if she always walked around with that thing. The thought was too much, your core became increasingly warmer and damp, throbbing as she kneaded you over the plastic extension of herself.

“Fuck,” you gasped, mewling at the rigidity of her strap through your clothes, rubbing up against you. You couldn’t hold your tongue, “You always keep that on you?” voice breathy as her hands met the skin of your torso underneath your shirt, your stomach tensing as the skin rippled with shivers from her touch. Not even letting her answer your question, you spoke again, voice wavering, “We’re gonna be late to meet your friends,”

“Honestly, pretty girl, I couldn’t give a damn about that right now,” Abby’s voice deepened, coated with a thick wave of carnality. Her wandering hands gently lifted your top, exposing your breasts to her as she placed her tongue over the hardened peaks, before speaking again, “Not when you’re in front of me looking like that,” Her demeanour was composed, trying to mask her ardour and the slight tremble in her hands that she prayed you didn’t notice, but she, too, felt the innate fervency that was electrifying the air. She looked you over, shirt lifted, mouth agape, body gleaming in the scarce light from the windows, twitching with anticipation. Your eyes watching hers, cheeks warming under her heavy gaze. You were absolutely delightful, and she couldn’t hold herself back from indulging, nor did she want to.

Her hands finally reached the waistband of your jeans, fingers twining around the belt loops as she pulled them down to your knees, allowing you to rushingly pull off the remaining fabric that clung to your legs, carelessly shoving them down somewhere to the bottom of the car floor. The remaining baggy shirt draping over your thighs. It was a sight for sore eyes, Abby thought. You unzipped her pants, eagerly pulling out her strap that she had been walking around with. You looked up at her, a hint of a smirk on your lips, Abby placed one hand at the base, angling the tip against your covered slit, watching as your slick seeped further over your lace underwear, leaving a distinctive translucent mark of your arousal. You moaned, eyes shutting as you bent your head down against her clavicle, hiding yourself from the embarrassment you felt at being so exposed in your desire for her. She wasn’t even in, yet, for fuck’s sake, and you were already weak.

“Don’t hide, baby,” She uttered, voice quiet and sweet as she bit back her own moans at the sight. Abby slipped the tip under the hem of your panties, the stiff cap of her strap rolling over your folds, spreading your slick up to your clit, in full sight as the thin, wet fabric of your underwear clung to her shape, exposing the sinful silhouette of her strap under your panties, “Wanna look at you.”

Abby smirked as she felt how little friction it took for her strap to slide up against your folds, “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet,” Her voice tense, groaning as she watched her own movements, teeth grabbing the bottom of her own lip as the tip became covered in slick, hidden beneath the fabric, “All wet and ready, could just slide right in,”

“Abby, p-please, can’t take it,” You whimpered, the pressure against your clit was stirring you towards insanity, but it wasn’t enough, not when she was teasing you with the damn thing, not when she was so, so close. You couldn’t take her relentless teasing any longer, spurred and waiting as you could only sit there as she decided to mess with you, you thought you’d come right there and then.

“Please what, baby?” She smirked, the edge of her lip tilting up as she watched you lose more and more of your patience, hips jutting towards her as a means to feel more of her. Lips meeting the edge of your jaw as she left the softest kisses on your skin, pausing to look over at you, the way your expressions morphed into desperation and eyebrows pinched together, just waiting for her to move properly. “Please, just p-put it inside, need to feel you inside, Abby-please” The desperation in your voice pulled at her, her own heat throbbing as she admired you, thankful that someone up there had blessed her with this sight tonight. Whichever lesbian gods resided up there to gift her such a vision. The sight of you falling apart and begging for her made her lose all the remaining composure she tried so hard to cling on to, as she slid up into your walls, you welcoming her as she slipped right in. You were so wet that she could hear the perverted sounds of your pussy sucking her in, your hands clawed at the back of her neck, head against her collarbone as you bit into her shoulder, grasping on to any remaining dregs of stability you could find. Your hips began to roll against hers on their own, seeking their own path.

“There, that’s it, baby. See, how you can take it,” Her words were anything but innocent, yet the saccharine tone of her voice was pulling you further into your climax, like a siren dragging you into deepwater, you were rendered wordless at this point, having been so turned on for so long must’ve melted your brain to mush, so you could only lean against her and ride her out. Could only sit there and take it, “You’re such a good girl for me, baby, that’s it,”

“You feel.. s-so fucking good, Abby,” Your babbles seemed to exacerbate Abby’s movements, lack of coherent words spurring her on as the harder thrusts hit the back of your cervix, drawing out the loudest sound you’ve ever heard be forced out from between your lips, you lifted your head to look at her, she looked just as ruined as you. Her eyes fixed on where you and her strap connected, folds gripping her each time she pulled out, “Fuck, baby, you’re taking me so fucking well, like you were born for my cock,” Her words were now blatantly sinful, Abby’s head just as mushed as yours felt as she rambled, drunk on feeling as if the strap truly was attached to her. She was usually such a gentlewoman, patient and respectful, but now? In this moment you saw another side to her, one that was so carnal in her desire and knew exactly what to say to make you see double. “I can almost feel you clenching around me,”

“Fuck-mm, Abby, I’m so close,” Her strap was splitting, your eyes shut as the repeated hits against your walls reverberated through your system, you bounced your hips against hers, sucking her further in. The insides of your thighs were drenched, your slick having dripped down all over her strap as she moved. You felt your brain almost explode when Abby’s fingers met with your clit, rubbing against the bud as her other hand reached up to grasp your jaw, with a little pressure, just enough for your plump lips to jut out slightly as she reconnected your lips. Her name sounded so sweet on your tongue, the familiar swell of pride returned, proud that it was her name you were currently moaning out, hers and hers alone. She wondered if Ellie ever made you like this, or if it was reserved just for her.

You could die happy, you thought, if this was the last humanly pleasure you felt. Her tongue moved against yours, before biting your bottom lip, you couldn’t focus on anything but her, the way she was making you feel. Your vision becoming slightly blurred as the pressure in your lower stomach built up, tightening as you felt it increase and increase as her fingers played with the bundle of nerves paired with the repeated beats of her pressing herself into you. Her hand loosened its grip on your jaw, she reached to the hem of your shirt, lifting it to reveal your breasts, nipples stiff as the movement of your bodies made your breasts spring up and down, the skin of your ass recoiled as gravity worked its magic, Abby was entranced, mesmerised as she watched you glow closer. Your hands grabbed at her, running down from her neck to reach her well-built biceps, nails digging into the buff muscles, drawing tiny red marks which contrasted against her skin. Playing basketball must really keep her busy.

Abby was no fool, she had clocked you staring at them enough, she let out a grunt as she felt the sharp sting on your nails. The act prompted her, losing the grip over her mouth as she was incited to new levels. “Like my arms, sugar?”

“Abby..” you mewled, pushing your face into her neck in the embarrassment that you had been clocked, “They’re just so big,”

Abby chuckled, “I’ll show you what they’re capable of soon enough,” Her words went straight to your core, making you clench tightly around her.

“For now, I want you to come all over my cock, sweetheart,” She grabbed at the skin of your breasts, kneading her large hands over them, pulling and tweaking your nipples as your body fell into her, lips open as the overstimulation hit its peak, eliciting a final drawl from you as your body shook against her. “Fuck… there you go, baby,” she dragged your orgasm out, still pushing her cock into you as you rode it out, “Fuck.. fucking orgasm lasted so long,” you sighed into her neck, mumbling voice wobbled as your legs twitched against her, spilling your cum all over her strap as it leaked out of you. She slowed her thrusts, keeping herself inside you until you were done. Your sensitive walls still reacting to her.

You felt completely worn out as she finally slipped out of you, you shyly lifted your head to make contact with her gaze, her eyes warm and gleaming as she attempted to hold back a smile, “That was..” You could hardly finish your sentence, placing a soft kiss against her lips as she grabbed your neck, holding your head up and rubbing her thumb over the soft skin of your jaw. “Wow.”

“Speechless, huh?” She couldn’t contain herself, an air of cockiness in her demeanour, her mind wandered to what this meant for you both now.

“If you think we’re still going, I have bad news,” You muttered, still in a daze as a wave of sleepiness hit you,

“Sweetheart, we’re not going anywhere but upstairs to my apartment,” You smiled at her, this was exciting. You felt comforted with her, “Don’t think I’m not returning the favour, by the way,” Abby laughed, nodding as she kissed your neck.

“Shit, I owe Dina 20 bucks,”

“Wait, what?”

—

like, comment or reblog to your hearts desire if ya enjoyed :p

#wishing she was real everyday #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader smut #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby anderson x you smut #the last of us smut #lesbian

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yuri-for-businesswomen · 1 year ago

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isolating this very important note. homelessness and prostitution are linked in more than one way.

first of all, homeless women and youth are seen by many men as unprotected game. not only are homeless women and youth at an insanely high risk of sexual abuse and assault, they also get „offered“ regularly by random men that they will pay them for sexual „favors“. a homeless woman i know said this happened to her almost daily when she was living on the streets, men even asking her to go to the nearest backalley for a blowjob. she always declined, she said thats the last bit of humanity she has left. but it says a lot about the mind of the male sex buyer. for example, both homeless youth (male or female) and homeless women get offered to stay with men if they have sex with them.

both homelessness and prostitution are linked to a high risk of rape and either already having substance issues when entering or developing them because of it, and having faced abuse prior to losing/escaping housing or entering the sex industry.

both are notoriously difficult to exit, and the longer youre in it, the more difficult it gets. and the more numb you become to the hardship, mistreatment, abuse and assault you face.

men enforce a constant stream of new prostitutes by abusing girls and women as their partners, family or caretakers which makes them leave home. living on the street, theres not many options to ensure your survival: stealing, begging, or… prostitution. and since youre unwashed and got nowhere to go, men will use your desperation to save money; to abuse you for as much as they pay for a meal and a drink.

both homelessness and prostitution have a high prevalence of mental illness. mental illness can make it difficult to hold down a regular job, which makes women land on the streets and/or enter prostitution because sex buyers dont give a shit about your mental state as long as youre sexually available.

you cant be anti-capitalist and pro-prostitution.

prostitution advocates would put homeless women in a brothel before judging male sex buyers who exploit them because „the issue is the unsafe work environment and lack of regulations, not prostitution itself“. i can see (and im sure this has happened before) prostitution advocates praising brothel owners for taking in homeless women, giving them housing and a job, and after all, the homeless woman consented, and who are we to judge how she deals with her situation, right?

#mine #anti prostitution #anti capitalism

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theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter · 3 months ago

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Disappointed 💣💧

Misa Rodriguez x reader

warning: angst 💣💔 (good ending ❤️‍🩹)

(my first language isn't english nor spanish, sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes)

Summary :

Disappointed after a lost, Misa redirects unintentionally her anger on you and realises what she's done, only once you're gone.

These past few weeks were tense, to say the least, Misa had been training hard for her future game against Barca. Anxiety had been eating her up, and you could see right through her, how her shoulders were tense even sleeping, the sour mood she put up. You, of course, tried to help her relax, but all your tentatives were stopped by rude "leave me alone." You understood why she was so distance but that didn't stop it from hurting you.

As the final whistle blows, you could see her face filled with disappointment. 3 Goals had gone past her and you could feel how angry she is with herself. Misa ran straight into the changing rooms after a small talk with Mapi, visibly angry and disappointed.

Waiting for her in the parking lot, like you usually did, you saw Olga, one of her teammate, run towards you. You knew her cordially but never built a friendship, not seeing her really often outside of Misa training. Out of breath, she breafly explained how she absolutely needed you come take care of Misa. Panicked about what could be happening to her, you followed Olga into the stadium.

Head in her hands, sniffing, body shaking. This sight of your girlfriend made your heart ache. You were used to seeing her disappointed after a lost game, but never to this point.

My love ?

Your voice fulled of worry, you took her hands in yours, allowing you to see her face covered with tears. You softly kissed her head, putting your forehead against hers, whispering praises. Only to get pushed forcefully away of her, her eyes full of anger.

Déjame en paz, eres inútil.

Leave me alone, you're useless

You knew she didn't mean it or at least hoped she didn't, but after weeks of suffering through her attitude, it was just too much. You got up quietly, Misa face reflected a mixed of confusion and anger. You turned away from her and walked to the exit, stopping by the door, you let out a soft, almost whisper,

Te dejaré en paz si eso es lo que quieres. Me voy a Alexia a pasar la noche.

I will leave you alone if that's what you want. Im going to Alexia for the night.

Before closing it after you, you took a deep breath before going back to the parking, calling Alexia to come and get you. Alexia and you have been pretty close ever since Misa introduced you to each other, having many points in the comment. Misa would often joke about you leaving her for Alexia, which wouldn't be possible either way since you loved Misa to much and Alexia already had Olga and wasn't up for sharing her with anyone.

Alexia knew something went wrong, your face was red from tears, you talked the less possible, responding with yes or no. You went directly to bed, not eating dinner, which worried the woman even more.

By the time you woke up the next morning, your phone was fulled with missed calls and text from Misa. Knowing you couldn't escape the situation for eternity, you quickly left after breakfast, thanking Alexia and Olga for the hospitality of giving you a bed for the night and a delicious breakfast.

Your appartement door in front of you, though spiralling about if you should go in or not. You were cut off by the door slowly opening in front of you, Misa was looking down at the ground, tears on her cheek.

Alexia me llamó, lo siento muchísimo. Sé que no debí haber sido tan grosera contigo. Lo siento, mi amor, lo siento muchísimo. Te amo tanto que no puedo perderte, por favor, mi vida, haré lo que sea.

Alexia called me, i am so so sorry. I know i shouldn't have been so rude to you. I'm sorry, my love, im so sorry. I love you so much i can't lose you, please my live, i will do anything.

The only thing you could do was hug her and cry with her, her body against yours, ears filled with sniffled apologise as you comforted her.

She made it a point to show you how sorry she was for the next couple of days, preparing you breakfast, lunch, dinner, making all the house chores, taking you shopping, watching your favorite show 7 time in a row.

She wasn't perfect, but she tried, and that was more then enough for you.

#misa rodriguez x reader #barca femeni #barca femini x reader #barca x reader #fc barcelona #woso x reader #misa rodriguez

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taehyunismm · 4 months ago

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ATEEZ'S FAVORITE THINGS ABOUT YOU ! (HYUNG LINE)

A/N: lol this is my first work after being on a longggggggg writing hiatus! (like two years) I honestly hope this doesn't flop but at the same time..you never know what’ll happen LMFAO just sit back and enjoy

cw: kys/kms jokes, cursing, some nsfw content (only for yunho and yeosang)

✰ HONGJOONG !

oh he loves how soft your hands are all the time

he will literally take your hands and rub your hands all over his face forcefully because he loves how they smell and how smooth they are.

"what are you doing..?" you say as he grabs your phone out your hand and starts rubbing his head all over your hands.

"im so sorry i just love the scent of your hands." he says giving the palm of your hands small lazy kisses.

"umm..okay you do your thing joongie!" you say as you play with his hair.

oh and do not get me started on his love for your hair.

he literally loves how soft your hair feels and how good it smells

he'll ask to put your hair in braids as an excuse to get close to your hair and smell it.

"okay what is up with you?" you can feel a big head coming in behind you.

"oh..im sorry my girlfriends hair just smells amazing!" he says twirling the ends of your hair.

"youre so weird but i love you."

oh he is OBSESSED with the way your body curves.

whenever you wear any kind of dress that fits your curves perfectly and really makes them noticeable he will go fucking INSANE.

he'll start stuttering throughout his sentences while your just staring at him confused on why hes so nervous with you in that outfit.

"i-i wow..?" hongjoong wipes his drool from his bottom lip turning back to reality.

"gosh do i look bad or something? pfft..im going to change youre making me annoyed." you say running your fingers through your hair and walking back to your closet.

"NO! i mean..no. you look..great! im just getting..flustered." he can feel his cheeks heating up after every word that comes out his mouth."

girl what the fuck

okay maybe hes right..you do look great and out of this world.

"okay..? anyways..lets just go, we're taking my car." you say throwing the keys to hongjoong as he catches them and follows behind you.

✰ SEONGHWA !

oh this man loves your eyes

he always finds some excuse to justify why hes staring at you

always asking to put your contacts in so he can admire how pretty your eyes are.

"pleaseee can i put them in?" he begs literally getting on his knees infront of the bathroom.

"i said no. im putting on my glasses today." you say while cleaning your lenses.

"but babyyy!" he says giving you a tight back hug and resting his chin on your shoulder while pouting.

"you are the biggest crybaby ive ever met."

he loves how competitive you are when it comes to games because its funny to watch when you rage quit

when you two were playing roblox obbys together you got mad that you accidently broke your laptop screen because you slammed it too hard.

"im going to literally fucking kill myself if you get to the end before me seonghwa." you say spamming your space button as many times as you can to avoid the red laser. you take a look at seonghwas screen since he was awfully quiet and you saw that he was already flying over the whole map with his stupid fucking rainbow trail.

"YOU FUCKER!" you say exiting out the game and slamming your screen down..and that does not end up well. you open your screen back up and your whole screen is shattered.

you start to tear up as you can hear seonghwas devilish laugh in the background.

"im calling apple care im not doing this right now.." you say taking out your phone and dialing their number for apple care waiting for them to pick up.

✰ YUNHO !

he is horribly obsessed with your face

like literally everything about your face weirdly turns him on

"please dont look at me like that i think im about to bust a nut in my pants." he says putting a pillow over on his lap.

"eww youre gross!" you say jokingly pushing him.

he wraps you in his arms and brings you on top of him cuddling you to death.

"could i get a kiss my pretty girl?" he says pouting and looking into your eyes with puppy eyes. you roll your eyes and scoff at the sudden question.

"fine." you say connecting your lips to yunhos while running your fingers through his soft hair, he slowly moves his hands to grip your ass squeezing it softly as you grind slowly on his clothed boner.

he groans softly in your mouth pulling away from the kiss and looking you up and down.

"gosh you are so beautiful, i fucking love how long your lashes are and how cute your lips are." he says softly caressing your cheeks as you put on your cheesy smile and burry your head in the crook of his neck.

✰ YEOSANG !

he loves when you cuddle him !

as you two are about to go to bed you both don't sleep with clothes on..really only panties for you and hes just wearing his boxers.

he really does love skin ship when it comes to sleeping with you

he likes to tightly hug you from the back whenever your mad at him and don't really want to look him in the eyes for the night.

oh and when your horny..he gets horny.

you rub your ass on his cock on purpose to see how he reacts even though you get the same reaction everytime you do it. he roughly pinches your nipples making you moan in pain.

"you bitch! that hurt!" you say turning around to him pouting. he laughs in your face as he caresses your hair.

"well your the one that wants to be bad. do you really want to test my waters right now?" you look him in the eyes with a smirk and tilt your head.

"do i sir?" you say smashing your lips onto his in an instant.

anddd the rest in most definitely up to your imagination! LMFAOO have fun!!

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r4vn · 5 months ago

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—THE RABBIT AND THE FOX

farleıgh x reader

w.c: 3,664

disclaimers: nsfw, 18+, rough sex, overstimulation, dominant!farleigh, use of titles (sir/ma'am), primal play, sensitive!reader, pinning down, chasing, 'iicyify', predator and prey, teasing, fingering, groping, unprotected p in v (stay safe out there guyz), crying, aftercare!!, hot and steamy smut

–synpopsis: you can't sleep one particular evening due to arousal, and you think your friend may be able to help. you wander the saltburn home to find farleigh, and to help you satisfy your submissive urges.

a/n: helloo!! im super excited for yall to read this one bc its based on the stories like the turtle and rabbit or the fox and the hare where one is "being chased" yk? and so i merged it with the sex game called "if i catch you i fuck you." i've seen a few times on the internet lol. editing will come later as always for tyos. I HOPE YOU ENJOY. ♡♡

「divider by @/ cafekitsune」

you were staying at your friend farleigh’s, home for the summer. the only people in the saltburn estate were you and him, and his cousin venetia but she was gone for the weekend. farleigh inherited the home from his aunt and uncle when they passed away. his cousin, felix ran away to the states so farleigh gladly took it. you stayed in the room next to him. he was fairly sweet for his sassy personality and it lured you in even more.

it was late in the evening, around 1am and you couldn't sleep. it was painfully quiet in the house. you were bothered, heavily bothered. your hand was in your pajama pants and you touched yourself with one hand, the other on your mouth trying to be as quiet as possible. you flickled your clothed pearl, causing your hips to buck occasionally.

"fuck." you whispered hastily. this wasn't enough, you needed more. you wanted farleigh, needed him, and you were going to get him. you'd been seducing him all week by wearing the shortest clothing to bed or grazing your back against his front when you walked past him.

when you finally had enough, you took your hand out from your pants quietly and opened your door to exit. you walk towards farleighs room and slowly tried the doorknob and saw it was open. you walked in as quietly as possible just in case he was sleeping, but to your surprise he wasn't in bed. he wasn't in the room at all actually.

you knitted your brows and looked in the bathroom, it being empty also. exiting his room, you wander silently around the house, thinking about where the brunette could be present. you checked the library, then the tv room. you were getting restless now, you wanted to jump his bones. you decided to check the kitchen, thinking maybe he was hungry and not looking for a different setting to smoke a cigarette.

and as hoped, there he was. as you walked into the doorway of the kitchen, farleigh was standing next to the marble island, smoking a cigarette and eating a couple of pieces of chocolate. you chuckled, catching his attention with a startle.

"jesus, you scared the shit out of me." farleigh mumbled, slowly smiling as he took another puff. you walked over to him slowly, hopping onto the counter. you swung your legs gently as the mere sight of him made you develop a second heartbeat.

"wouldn't of scared you if you were in your room and not wandering this big mansion of a home." you shrugged with a smile. farleigh stayed quiet, only diverted his eyes to you. he studied you, briefly scanning your whole person before half smiling.

"well," he inhales the cigarette smoke deeply before sighing. "i'm here, you found me. now what do you want?"

"you." you responded casually, taking a piece of chocolate. it immediately melted on your tongue, giving you satisfaction as you stared at farleigh with low eyes. he was subtly flustered, stiff and gingerly flushed in the face at your reply.

"you– ahem– want me to do what?" he continued, leaning on the fridge to face you. he held eye contact, making sure not to look at anything but you.

"i want you to do me." farleigh didn't say anything, clearly getting more tense. he finished the rest of his cig in one breath, leaning off the fridge to walk towards you. he stood right in front of you, [e/c] eyes mixing with his umber brown ones. no words were exchanged as he leaned over to place his cigarette bud in the small dish next to you.

"what do you want me to do with you?" he asked in a lower tone. your stomach flipped, wanting to take him right here on this marble counter. he was so tall that even on the counter you still matched his height. he slid in between your legs and you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

"i want you," you kissed his cheek once. "to play a game with me."

"what kind of game sweetheart?" he mumbled, turning to the side to give you full access to kiss him wherever. you smiled against his skin, going lower to his neck. you left a wet, slow kiss, causing him to suck in a slow breath through his teeth. his hands gently gripped your thighs, scooting you closer into him.

"a game of 'if i catch you i fuck you.' i run and you try to find me." farleigh chuckled, causing a chill to run down your spine. you looked up at him, biting your lip. you were already ready to climb him like a tree but you restrained yourself for the thrill. you gently pushed him away to hop off the counter, slowly backing up away from him to run.

"count to 100, aloud." you instructed, farleigh smirked, standing where he was as he crossed his arms.

"1..2..3..4.." you giggled and quickly made your exit from the kitchen, also mentally counting yourself. you trembled just a little because you were nervous. but you loved the adrenaline rushing through you.

"18..19..20.."

you jogged across the halls trying to get on the farside of the mansion, faintly listening to fsrleigh's counting. you decided to head for the the second floor and made your way up the stairs.

"36..37..38.."

now, you began to slow your breathing and decided you were far enough. you wandered around the second floor as you heard the brunette count. you adored the style of the house with its intricate wooden carved door frames and furniture. even the old wallpaper. you briefly think about farleigh pinning you down into the couch and ramming into you. the thought caused the heat between your legs to tingle. you whimpered as you imagined it.

"61..62..63.." you slid down the wall in the hallway and reached into your pants again. you didn't have long but you were struggling. your hole pulsated at the thought of the tall male in you. fuck you wanted him terribly. you rubbed your cunt desperately with farleigh's hand in mind. your hole lubricated itself, being so close but so far to your climax. your mind felt so cloudy and pleasurably quiet you nearly forgot farleigh was going to be after you soon. you quickly stood up began to gradually walk away from the stairs.

"97..98...99..100. here i come, [y/n]." farleigh called out in the hall down from the kitchen. he kept a small smile on his face while walking around the first floor before heading to the stairs. he heard them squeak as he was counting so he headed up them, making sure to avoid the squeaky panels.

"you know, the day i saw you, i knew i needed you." farleigh spoke out. you peeked around a corner to see farleighs shadow from the moonlight. you immediately began to cut through hallways to create distance.

"that night i rubbed one out at the thought of you. pumped my cock so hard dreaming of it to be you on top of me." you held your mouth, making sure not to whimper at his confessions.

"and since you've been here, i've tried my damndest to keep jerking off to a minimum of once a night to not get fucking erectile dysfunction, heh. i just tease myself through the day, nearing cumming at times." farleigh chuckled, wandering the west half of the second floor. thinking about farleigh trying to hide a boner while touching himself made you incredibly hot all over. you wanted your hand around his cock and mouth on the tip soon.

"i touch myself thinking about you farleigh. you make me drip." you finally respond, quickly moving to another direction. talking had to be minimum or it would give away your location. you occasionally moved through rooms with doors. you didn't do it much because you felt like it was too sneaky so you did it about every series of seconds. farleigh chuckled again, humming.

"you such a tease, baby." farleigh stated, hearing the slightest giggle. he took a right, continuing to walk and talk. it was several minutes into the game and farleigh was getting restless. you could hear his gentle groans and growls sometimes several yards away. your limit was also getting to you. suddenly, you slipped up. you heard farleigh's steps just at the other end of a hallway around the corner. you panicked.

"stop right there!" you squeaked out, farleigh immediately doing so.

"[y/n]? ..you alright? i stopped walkin'." farleigh called out from the blind corner. you gulped out of anxiety. your heart wanted to jump out of your chest. you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking.

"lets–...lets have a game break. 5 minutes. you sit against your wall of the corner i sit on my wall, deal?" you explained, hoping for an agreement. farleigh stayed silent, thinking to himself. did he want to devour you right then and there in the middle of the hallway? yes. but does he love the chase? absolutely.

but if playing a game of chase means devouring you in the end, he wouldn't dare decline a game.

"fine. break time, 5 minutes." he declared. you hear shuffling before seeing farleighs hand planted in your field of vision. he sat on the floor as told. you slowly walked over and sat criss cross, placing your hand in his field of vision. you heard him chuckle, causing you to smile like an idiot.

"can i take away my hand now that you can see i’m sitting with you?" you smiled, taking away yours first.

"yes, hello farleigh." you greeted. farleigh sighed gently, trailing his pajama-lined, half-hard boner with his nails gently.

"hey baby ..what do you wanna do for the next 4 and a half minutes?" farleigh asked, leaning his head back on the wall in bliss. he made sure to count every minute in his head. you sighed gently, dipping your hand back into your underwear impatiently. a sharp exhale escaped your lips and you quickly tried to cover it up with a fake cough.

"i want to hear how i turn you on, how i make you feel inside and out." you breathed out. farleigh laughed again, palming himself through his silk bottoms.

"you make me feel so hot and bothered all over, [y/n]. you get me so pent up i can't risk leaving my room and seeing you or i'll be walking around with a hard on all day." the brunette scoffed playfully. you smiled at his words, gasping slowly as you entered a finger in your entrance. you became weak, the walls of your heat pulsating in need for more.

2 more minutes..

"you probably already do know i purposely push up against you whenever i walk past in front of you. just to get ..y'know..a feel–..to see what i'm working with." you bit down on your lip, hard, remembering the time you walked passed farleigh in the kitchen. you could have sworn you felt his bulge between your ass cheeks. you touched yourself endlessly that night. the break was about to end in a little over a minute. you took your fingers out of you and stood up. an idea popped into your head before you began taking off your pajama bottoms.

"yeah? ..well.." farleigh silently stood up, licking his lips. "why not get a feel for it.." he quickly turned the corner to grab you "right now–" except there was no one there. you had already made your escape so smoothly.

farleigh looked down to see a pair of purple bikini cut panties on the tile floor. he arched a brow, picking them up to see a dark wet spot in the crotch area. the blood rushed to his head, the arousal finally catching up to him. when he brought it to his face, he licked and sucked your juices off the fabric, holding his crotch. he felt an intense pulse in his hands and had enough. his final string of patience snapped.

"[y/n]..come out now. there is no more chasing, only hunting." farleigh groaned with a low laugh. he turned at another corner only to see you exiting at the end away from him. the brunnette ran after you now, a smile staying on his face. you squeaked, seeing him only yards away. you immediately took a turn on the east side of the building. farleigh decided to go another way to cut through the hallway connecting yours.

he heard your feet slapping against as you got closer. he stayed at the corner you were nearing and as you ran past him, he swiftly grabbed you and pulled you into him roughly. he groaned into your neck and shoulder as you briefly screamed and squeaked. though your yelps slowly smoothened out into gasps and shudders of pleasure. one of farleigh large masculine hands held you securely against his front while his free hand tenderly roamed the skin of your thighs and abdomen.

"caught you." he whispered into your neck. he breathed heavily against you with his free hand trailing up your hip and he slowly pushed yours into his, causing his body to shiver in response. you felt his warm cock against your ass and wanted to fuck him terribly.

"now take me." you gasped out, pressing your ass further into his clothes shaft. he abruptly threw you over his shoulder, and began walking with a clear destination in mind. you giggled at being held like you weighed nothing, yelping as farleigh smacked your ass.

"quiet." you quickly obeyed, moaning as farleigh rubbed you through your pants. he quickly got to his room and threw his prey on his bed. he wanted nothing more than to use you over and over again till you trembled under him, a crying mess. he wrapped a hand around your neck and pinned you down on the sheets, splaying your thighs open to the wet crotch area of your thin cotton pants. farleigh dove down between your thighs, sucking and wetting your clothed cunt even more. he could see the mere outline of your pussy, watching it ever so slightly pusate. it was incredibly erotic to him.

"beautiful." he muttered. your moans danced through his ears like a wonderful violin. you couldn't help yourself because that deep ache in your core was finally being satisfied. farleigh swiftly removed your pants with his free hand, immediately leaning down to taste you. a wave of pleasure washed over you and you nearly lost all strength under the brunette.

"god– please farleigh–" you begged. you were already so close. his tongue flicked over your clothed pearl like he already knew your weak spots. the tension line wanted to snap for you so soon but farleigh of course did not allow that.

"already? so soon baby ..hold it. i wanna use you all night." farleigh mumbled into your cunt. you nodded, gasping as he suddenly added two fingers into you. you yelped, the overwhelming amount of ecstasy washing over you. you were so so so close. but he was just barely grazing that spot you so desperately wanted touched.

your hands wrapped around the one arm restricting you, moaning into the air. your walls constricted every few seconds and you cursed like a sailor. your legs struggled to stay open so they closed around farleigh's torso, shaking like a leaf in the wind. you were in heaven.

"f-farleigh– hng– right there...right there–" you cried out. farleigh couldn't take it anymore. he wanted to feel what you were feeling. he finally lap up your juices once more before pulling away. your body immediately relaxed, trembling every few seconds like shockwaves.

"don't worry, were not done yet." farleigh hummed, pulling off his night clothes. he stripped you of your shirt and pushed your thighs back into you, nearly folding you. he had a full view and he made sure you did too. your eyes watched intensely as his tip teased your entrance, gasping as he would almost enter.

"hey, look at me.. look at my eyes only. i wanna see it written all over your face as i enter you." his eyes captured yours and you didn't dare look down at the salacious sight just yet. you nodded as a signal for him to continue, farleigh immediately doing so. your jaw dropped almost immediately. you felt his cock, inch by inch, filling you. but you didn't look just yet, because farleigh's expression nearly made you cum just by looking. his eyes were rolled back just slightly, lips parted and his brows knitted together in a way that made him look so submissive.

"[y/n]–" he shuddered. he broke eye contact first to watch your hole swallow him up, moaning a broken 'oh fuck–.' you looked down too and moaned at such a lewd sight. farleigh held your throat just a little more securely before ramming your cunt in. you moaned his name, and maybe a few 'yes sir's' and 'right there sir's' as he pummeled your pussy.

your core felt tight and hot again. he was hitting that spot perfectly. you couldn't take it anymore.

"im sorry sir– fuck–" you whimpered, letting your first orgasm take over. your eyes rolled back and your walls constricted tightly around farleigh. you mewled and moaned as he didn't stop his pace. your legs shook violently and your vision flashed white.

"slut, you came without permission." farleigh stilled all his movements, watching your hips still buck for more. he pulled out and flipped you over on your stomach, causing you to yelp in surprise.

"well if your going to cum over and over, it might as well be all on my dick.." he concluded. you nodded eagerly, his hand pushing your head down into the pillows. your hole was on full display for him to admire as he thrusted into you again. you wrapped around him perfectly and he wanted to fuck you on the daily. the amount of pleasure you were giving him gave him a head high.

"just like that sir– hng–" you moaned, that sweet spot of yours being the only thing he was hitting. you controlled your breathing so you wouldn't immediately cum again but it gradually became difficult.

“you feel so– fucking– good [y/n]–" farleigh praised between thrusts, moaning into the air above him. his hands gripped your hips firmly so if you tried to run, there was no use. you had to take him like a good girl.

farleigh would slow down occasionally, not to catch his breath, but to watch as your hole basically sucked him off. he would also focus on the physical aspect and how your soft warm walls felt. he'd graze right above your cervix, where your sweet spot was. he'd watch you gasp every time he brushed up against it. he was done playing for his orgasm. he was going to get it now.

farleigh scooted closer to your hips so every thrust got rougher and deeper. you loved every second of it. it felt so good it hurt. thought you were not in pain but in overwhelming ecstasy. your vision got cloudy and your eyes glazed over with tears. your fingers gripped onto the sheets while farleigh had his way with you.

"can i cum please can i cum–" you cried. your entire body shook violently as your core burned for a release. farleighs hips faltered due to being so close. he was ready to burst.

"fuck– cum now baby– cum right on my di–" he groaned. both of you mutually climax. farleigh moaned your name as he pumped you full. he felt dizzy while his hips buckled violently into you every few seconds. you on the other hand, trembled and incoherent, began to cry from overstimulation. you moaned at every post orgasm thrust, trying your best to be good. as soon as farleigh pulled out of you, your body went limp, your whimpers finally getting to farleighs ears.

"baby, baby. c'mere." he coaxed, he gently picked you up and sat you in his lap, kissing your cheeks. you sniffled and giggled lightly, wiping your face.

"im okay sweetheart, i swear." you reassured. farleigh mumbled an ‘i know' before kissing you tenderly. he sat back against the headboard and held you close. when he pulled away, he kept his forehead against yours.

"you did so good, babe." he whispered, causing you to blush. you rubbed your legs together, causing you mewl suddenly. you were still so sensitive and farleigh noticed.

"let me help." he suggested,slowly opening your legs to reveal a grool covered pussy. you whined and closed your thighs on his hand.

"[y/n], trust me." he said, catching your eyes. you share a small moment of silence before opening your legs again. his middle and ring finger gently massaged your overstimulated clit and caused you to hiss. your hips twitch again, grabbing onto his arm in protest.

"im s-sensitive–"

"and rubbing it through the sensitivity usually helps. so breathe, you're doing so good." he planted a kiss on your cheek while the two of you watched his fingers caress you. he kept a steady pace and the sensitivity eventually decreased. you sighed deeply and laid on the brunette chest, enjoying the erotic massage of some sort.

"heh– you were amazing, [y/n]." he smiled at you, taking his fingers and placing them in your mouth. you gladly licked his digits clean of your juices, flushing a pink. you felt like a slut but enjoyed every second of it.

"mm ..lets go again in 20 minutes." you said while getting comfortable in farleighs arms. he laughed at your cuteness before sitting with you in his arms, enjoying the view of the moon in his window. it was going to be a long evening.

hope you enjoyed teehee c:

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