#well sm for staying in drafts

[urahara-lovepage]

bleach media literacy is actually just a measure of how you read urahara as a character

[byanyan]

we're down to 9 drafts left that're from before february, plus 5 which are from the last week. progress has slowed over the last couple days (for various reasons) but hoo boy, we're still working our way toward being caught up and only!! getting!!! closer!!!!!

[bucketsorbueckers]

Trouble - Chapter 1

Age gap Paige X Azzi

Warnings: Language

Word count: 6.3K

a/n: someone dropped this idea in my inbox. i became obsessed. stayed up way too late and woke up way too early to write this bc i actually can't stop thinking about it. IDK how often this will be updated bc i clearly didn't write ahead but yeah. anyways anon, whoever you are, i love you sm thank you for this

also pls let me know if you like this one i know its diffff

Summary:

Paige Bueckers has spent five years as the WNBA’s golden girl—stoic, unstoppable, and famously unbothered.

But she’s also never met Azzi Fudd.

Until the Lynx trade up to draft her.

Azzi’s twenty-three. Number one pick. Gorgeous. Talented. And, not that long ago, was reposting thirst edits of Paige Bueckers like it was her part-time job.

Now they’re teammates. Sharing a locker room. And, if Azzi has her way, a slow-burn love story in the making.

Paige isn’t interested. Azzi isn’t subtle.

And neither of them is remotely prepared.

Azzi POV| 5:07 PM | Night before the draft

Azzi was halfway through her post-shower routine at the hotel, hair wrapped in a towel, legs still damp, wearing the old Chicago Sky t-shirt she’d thrifted freshman year—ripped at the hem and barely hanging on—when her phone rang.

On the screen: Marcus.

Her agent. Her very recently seen agent. They’d met earlier that day to go over everything—schedule, logistics, media. The plan.

Azzi was going number one. That wasn’t new. Wasn’t surprising.

Two-time national champion. National Player of the Year her senior season. Best guard in the class. She’d been headlining mock drafts since before she could legally vote.

Chicago had the pick. Chicago needed a star. She already had the jersey, practically.

So, there was no reason for Marcus to be calling. 

She answered the call with the kind of slow, suspicious grace typically reserved for the moment everything goes wrong.

“Hello?”

“You sitting down?” he asked, and her stomach dropped before he even said the rest.

She sat. Not because he told her to. Because her knees went loose all at once, and the edge of the bed caught her before the floor did.

“There was a trade,” he said. “It’s still you at number one. But it’s not Chicago anymore.”

She blinked. He waited.

She blinked again. “Then who—”

“Minnesota.”

Silence.

“Minnesota?” she repeated, like maybe that was a city she’d never heard of. “As in—”

“Yup,” Marcus said. “Lynx traded up. Desperate move. One of their guards tore her ACL in practice yesterday. Front office went all in. It’s a good opportunity, Azzi.”

But Azzi wasn’t listening. Because her brain had stopped at Minnesota and detoured immediately to Paige Bueckers.

“No. No, wait. Like… Paige Bueckers Minnesota?”

There was a pause. Then: “Well, I believe their facilities are technically in Minneapolis,” Marcus said, flat. “But yes. Pretty much the same thing.”

Azzi didn’t respond. She was too busy recalibrating the trajectory of her entire adult life.

Paige Bueckers. Paige fucking Bueckers. The woman who made midrange fadeaways look like foreplay.  Who never smiled in post-game interviews and somehow made that hot was going to be her teammate.

Azzi looked down at her shirt. Chicago blue—which now felt traitorous. She pulled it off immediately. Now standing in the mirror in just her bra and underwear, she stared at herself.

Oh god.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to be drafted by Chicago, do the polite press thing, and flirt with Paige Bueckers lightly on Instagram after proving herself in the league.

She was not supposed to get launched straight into the orbit of her actual dream girl. This was not a drill. This was not a cool moment. This was Defcon horny.

“I have to go,” she said suddenly.

“Azzi, I think we should—”

She hung up before Marcus could finish. Rushed to her suitcase. Dug beneath the carefully folded outfits. Ripped through socks and slides and backup lashes until she found it.

The hoodie.

Faded gray. Slightly oversized. The same one Paige had been photographed in years ago after some summer league game—hood up, headphones in, looking so good Azzi had nearly choked. 

Azzi had seen the picture on Twitter and ordered the hoodie that day. No hesitation.

She pulled it on now. Like maybe it would protect her from the very obvious, very embarrassing crush she still hadn’t grown out of.

It did not.

If anything, it made things worse. Because now she looked like a girl who knew what she was walking into. And was already in way too deep.

She checked the mirror. Pouted. Tilted her head.

“Shit,” she muttered to her reflection. “You’re absolutely gonna ruin everything.”

Group Chat: baby goats🐐🐐🐐

Azzi:

THEY TRADED THE PICK

I’M GOING TO MINNESOTA

MINNE-FUCKING-SOTA

WHY WOULD GOD DO THIS TO ME

Jana ??? girl congrats???

Caroline: wait like BUECKERS minnesota????

Azzi: SHE’S THERE

SHE’S GONNA SEE ME

SHE’S GONNA KNOW

Caroline:what is she gonna know??

Azzi: THAT I’M DOWN BAD

that i’ve been reposting her since sophomore year

Jana i’m sorry didn’t you tweet “paige bueckers if you’re reading this i’m free on thursday. and also every day for the rest of my life" once

Caroline:

oh you’re cooked

Azzi: she’s gonna think i’m a fan

she’s gonna know i’m a fan

i’m gonna get benched for being horny

Jana: can they even put that in the contract?

Azzi:  they’re gonna invent a new clause for me

—-----------

Azzi woke up the next morning with two purposes:

Look unbelievably good.

Don’t make a complete fool of herself in front of Paige Bueckers.

She had a better chance of walking on water than pulling off both.

Her room was already full of people by the time she brushed her teeth. Makeup team. Hair. Stylist. Publicist. A girl holding a tiny steamer and the biggest coffee Azzi had ever seen.

She let them pull her into the chair while they moved around her in practiced formation. Clipped her hair back. Adjusted the lighting. Began.

“Morning,” her stylist said, already unzipping garment bags like they were revealing state secrets. “We’ve got two looks—one for tehs stage, one for the afterparty. You’re gonna like both, but you’re gonna love one.”

Azzi smiled, soft but sure. “Knew I could trust you.”

She sat still as they worked—moisturizer, concealer, quiet chatter filling the gaps. She knew the drill. Sit. Breathe. Let the professionals do their thing while she tried not to overthink hers.

The carpet dress was black silk, ankle-length, with a halter neckline and a slit that would photograph well but not scream trying too hard. Her makeup stayed close to natural, but her eyes were lined sharp exactly how she liked it. 

She looked at herself in the mirror when they finished. She looked good. And not just ‘for a rookie,’ not just ‘draft night ready.’ She looked like someone who belonged—who had trained her whole life for this and was getting what she deserved. 

Still, she adjusted the strap at her shoulder. Smoothed the fabric at her waist. Picked up her phone like it might ground her.

Jana: You breathe yet?

Azzi: No but at least I’ll look sexy while dying

Jana: Post a thirst trap. Establish dominance.

Azzi: You think I won’t??

She didn’t. She posted a mirror selfie mid-makeup with the caption: draft day bts. She half hoped maybe Paige would see it. But Paige didn’t even follow her so the thought was desperate and mortifying in a way she didn’t want to admit. 

The crowd in the room slowly thinned out until it was just her.

Makeup brushes packed away. Dresses zipped back into garment bags. Someone murmured something about call times and press schedules, but Azzi only half-heard it. She nodded, smiled, stayed seated.

She looked back at the mirror. Tucked a curl behind her ear. Took a breath inhaling the slight taste of hairspray and perfume. 

Tonight was about a lot of things. Her future. Her game. Her name being called first. She knew that. She could feel the weight of it behind her ribs, the stretch of everything about to change.

But still, she couldn’t stop imagining Paige seeing her like this.

Not on TV. Not through a tagged post or a highlight clip. Here. In the same room. Breathing the same air.

She didn’t even know if Paige would be there. Maybe she’d be watching from home. Maybe she wouldn’t be watching at all. Maybe this was Azzi being ridiculous—letting a decade-old crush sneak in the side door of the biggest night of her life.

But the thought lingered.

She grabbed her phone again. 

Azzi: if i trip on stage it’s not nerves it’s gay panic. tell my story right.

She sent the text and immediately threw her phone onto the bed like it was hot. Not because it was dramatic. Okay—maybe a little because it was dramatic.

She stood. Smoothed her dress again, even though it didn’t need it. The fabric was fine. The fit was perfect. It was her hands that needed something to do.

Her heart was doing that weird, too-hard, too-loud thing it did before tip-off. Only this time, there were no sneakers. No court. Just cameras and lights and the unbearable possibility of her dreams coming true in front of the woman of her dreams.

Poetry, or something like that.

She turned to the mirror. Looked at herself for a long second. The girl in the reflection looked ready.  She didn’t feel that way.

“Let’s go,” she said, quietly. To no one.  To herself. To the version of her that still didn’t totally believe this was real.

She adjusted her earrings. Lifted her chin. Took one last breath, like it might hold her together.

And then she stepped out of the room—into the hallway, into the chaos, into the version of her life she hadn’t dared to imagine too clearly. Not out loud.  Not until now.

—--

The moment she stepped onto the orange carpet, everything sharpened.

The lights. The voices. The flashbulbs that went off three at a time. It was like stepping onto another planet—one where the air smelled like hairspray and nerves and the smiles came too fast to be real.

Azzi squared her shoulders, tilted her chin half an inch higher, and kept walking.

She’d been to big events before. Red carpets in college, press days for awards., hell even NYC fashion week. But this was different. This was the night. The one she’d been working toward since she could barely dribble with her left hand.

She moved through the chaos like she’d practiced it—because she had. Step, stop, pose. Give the camera a little shoulder. Smile, but not too big. Enough to say I’m happy to be here, not I can’t feel my face.

“Azzi! Over here!”

She turned toward the voice, one arm resting at her side, the other lightly bent at the elbow. Every pose intentional. Controlled. Like her body wasn’t buzzing with the kind of nervous energy that felt suspiciously like hope.

Hope that maybe Paige was already inside. Hope that maybe she’d notice.

“Who are you wearing tonight?” someone shouted.

Azzi named the designer, barely heard herself say it. She could feel her heart under her collarbone, steady but too loud. A camera shutter clicked. Then another.

“She’s stunning,” someone near the ropes whispered. Azzi didn’t look to see who said it. Didn’t want to ruin it by knowing.

Instead, she kept moving. She made it to the midway point of the carpet before she caught sight of a familiar face.

“Yo,” someone hissed near a row of photographers. “Tell me I’m not sweating through my dress.”

Azzi turned—smiling, grateful—and found Kiara Johnson fanning herself with her hands. Her dress was fire engine red and absolutely unfair.

“You look beautiful,” Azzi said smiling. 

Kiara rolled her eyes. “Thanks. You look unbothered. Hate that for me.”

Azzi laughed, and for a moment, the cameras blurred out. The nerves, too.

Behind her, Simone was already deep into an interview, talking with her hands like the cameras might miss her otherwise. Somewhere to the left, Delaney was yanking at the top of her strapless dress like it might betray her at any second.

They were all here—lined up, glossed up, trying to look chill while buzzing out of their skin. No one said it, but everyone was thinking it: getting drafted was one thing. Making a roster? Whole different story. And the lights were hot. The makeup was sweating. The stakes were higher than any of them wanted to admit.

Azzi took a breath. Smiled. Tried to look like she belonged.

“See you on the other side,” Kiara said, brushing past her with a wink, already headed toward the interview line.

The moment slipped by, and Azzi moved with it—fielding a few more questions, posing for photos, laughing at something one of her old teammates said. She nodded, waved, kept walking.

But finally, she made it through. The final stretch of the carpet calmer. Fewer cameras. Less shouting. Just the hum of anticipation and the low thrum of music from inside the venue.

Azzi slowed her pace. Let the moment sit.

People always said draft night moved fast—that it blurred. She didn’t feel that. If anything, everything felt too sharp. The air too cool on her shoulders. The lights too bright. Her skin too tight across her ribs.

She’d done this before. Interviews. Spotlights. Moments where people clapped just because she walked into a room. But this time was different. This time, it felt like something was about to begin, and she didn’t know who she’d be on the other side of it.

She reached the end of the carpet and stepped out of frame.  But then she paused.

She glanced back—over her shoulder, slow and searching. Just in case. Just in case maybe Paige was there. Standing off to the side. Looking at her like…

She didn’t even know. She just wanted to know. But there was no one.

Just a few photographers packing up. A tech guy adjusting a boom mic. The kind of silence that hums when it’s supposed to be loud.

Azzi lingered for half a second too long. Then turned back. And stepped into her future. 

Paige’s POV 

Paige dropped onto the couch and handed Courtney a beer.

“Thanks,” Courtney said, cracking it open with the corner of her hoodie sleeve like they weren’t sitting ten feet from the kitchen.

It was draft night. The kind of thing you watched because you had to, not because you wanted to.

Paige had made it through exactly half a press request before deciding she didn’t want to be there in person. She hadn’t said why. Just texted her agent staying home. thanks though.

But she knew she needed to watch. So, here she was. 

Tori had torn her ACL three days ago—awkward landing in a non-contact drill. She’d crumpled before she even hit the paint. Paige had watched it happen. Hadn’t said much.

Now, the front office had scrambled, like they always did. Moves made over phones and closed doors, things shuffled before most people knew there was a gap.

Enter Azzi Fudd.

Number one pick. Two-time national champion. National Player of the Year. Flashy handle. Clean jumper.

Apparently league-ready, though Paige found all rookies questionable on principle. Even the good ones. Especially the ones who came in shiny and hyped and smiling too much.

She took another sip. Let the beer go warm in her mouth before swallowing. Tapped her fingers once against the bottle in her hand. And then Azzi Fudd appeared on the screen.

“Didn’t she cross up that French guard at Worlds?” Courtney asked, squinting toward the TV.

“Probably,” Paige said.

Azzi stepped onto the orange carpet in a black silk dress.

Sleek. Minimal. The kind of dress that clung just enough and moved when she walked. High neckline. Open back. Legs for days. Not showy, but precise. Every detail meant to look like it hadn’t been thought about at all—which meant it had been thought about a lot.

She posed like she’d done it before. Hand at her waist. Chin tilted just slightly. Confident. Camera-ready.

The kind of look that worked hard to seem effortless. And mostly got away with it.

Paige watched her for a second longer than she meant to. Not because she cared. She didn’t.

She just hadn’t expected her to walk like that. Like she owned the carpet. Like she knew how she looked. Like she knew people were watching and wasn’t interested in pretending otherwise.

She wasn't sure why she was surprised.

Azzi was good-looking. Everyone could probably admit that. But the confidence -

“She’s good-looking,” Courtney said, casually. Like she was reading Paige’s mind and calling her out on it before Paige could pretend otherwise.

Paige didn’t flinch. “She looks like a kid.”

Too fast. Too automatic.

Courtney turned her head. Just slightly. “That is not a kid.”

Paige brought the bottle to her lips. Didn’t drink. Her eyes drifted back to the screen, where Azzi was still smiling like the world had already said yes. And the thing was—no. She didn’t look like a kid.

Not in that dress. Not with that walk. Not with the way she tilted her chin at the camera like she already knew every eye was on her. 

She looked like someone who knew exactly what she was doing. And was probably used to getting away with it.

Trouble. 

But Paige didn’t say that. Didn’t even think it, not officially.

“She’s confident,” Courtney added.

“She’s twenty-three,” Paige said. “They’re all confident.”

It wasn’t a slight. It was just math.

Her phone buzzed, screen lighting up beside her. She glanced at it. Her agent.

Need to post a ‘welcome to Minnesota’ tonight, P. It’s a good look.

Paige rolled her eyes. Clicked the screen off without replying. She wasn’t in the mood to perform a warm reception.

She set the phone facedown on the coffee table. Picked her beer back up. The draft coverage rolled on in the background—names, stats, dresses, practiced smiles.

She didn’t watch. She already knew what she needed to know. The Lynx had a new rookie. And Paige had a season to win.

The volume was still muted when they called Azzi’s name. But the words still crossed the screen: 

“First overall pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft…the Minnesota Lynx select Azzi Fudd.”

Courtney leaned forward. “There it is.”

Paige didn’t move. Just watched as the camera panned to Azzi—already on her feet, hugging the people at her table. Composed. Moving slow. Like she’d been waiting for this moment her entire life and had no plans to let anyone else touch it.

She moved through the crowd like she belonged to it. Dress sleek, smile soft but deliberate. No stumble. No nerves showing.

“Clean,” Courtney murmured. “I’ll give her that.”

Paige made a quiet sound in her throat. Not agreement. Not disagreement either.

Azzi reached the stage, hugged the commissioner, held up the jersey with the right amount of polish. Flashes went off around her. People cheered.

Paige took another sip of her beer.

“She’s gonna be on your left,” Courtney said.

Paige shrugged. “If she earns it.”

On screen, Azzi waved at the crowd. Her smile cracked a little wider, just for a second. Genuine. Then the screen faded to black.

Paige shifted on the couch. Let the silence settle for a second. Ran through her mental list of shit she needed to get done.

And then the music kicked back in—cinematic, dramatic, over the top. The draft coverage returned with one of those slow-motion montages ESPN couldn’t resist. Azzi crossing someone up at Worlds. Azzi pulling up from the logo with zero hesitation. Azzi grinning, scissors in hand, cutting the net.

“Azzi, huge congrats. First overall—how does it feel, and what are you most looking forward to as a member of the Lynx?”

Azzi smiled. “I mean… everything, really. It’s a great team, great coaching staff. I’ve grown up watching this league, so to be part of it—especially with this franchise—feels surreal. I’m ready to learn, to work—just excited to be part of the culture.”

“She’s media trained to hell,” Courtney muttered from the far end of the couch, one leg tucked under her.

Paige didn’t respond.

Azzi was answering all the usual questions—grateful, humbled, excited to learn. She hit every note perfectly. Not too eager. Not too rehearsed. Just enough to come off smooth. And then the reporter smiled, a little too wide. A little too pointed.

“You’ll be joining a team with some serious veteran talent. I’ve gotta ask—are you excited to play with someone like Paige Bueckers?”

Paige blinked.

Courtney groaned. “Here we fucking go.”

Azzi hesitated. Barely. But enough to see it. The pause. The shift in her shoulders, like she was resetting.

She smiled again, quick and reflexive. “Yeah, of course. I mean—she’s Paige Bueckers.”

Paige closed her eyes for a second. Inhaled. Forced herself not to look over at Courtney, who she knew—without question—was sitting there with that annoying-ass grin, just waiting. Exhaled. Opened her eyes. Azzi was no longer on the screen.

Slowly, she turned her head.

“Don’t,” she warned.

Courtney held it together for maybe half a second. Then lost it—low and sharp and immediate.

“She said it like one of your fan girls.”

“She said it like someone answering a forced question on live TV.”

Courtney raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, a forced question that made her whole spine go stiff.”

Paige didn’t bite. Just kept her eyes on the screen, now back to showing some other prospect hugging their family.

Courtney leaned back, grinning. “I’m just saying—if she goes all shy and stuttery every time you walk in the room? I’m not gonna survive.”

“She’ll be fine.”

Courtney snorted. “You sure? 'Cause right now she’s out here sounding like she still got your jersey saved in her closet.”

Paige stared ahead, expression flat. “You done?”

“For now.”

Paige sighed. “She’s a kid, Court. It’s draft night. She was nervous.”

“Nervous about playing with the Paige Bueckers,” Courtney squealed, lifting her hands like she was presenting a prize on a game show.

Paige clenched her jaw, “Why the fuck did I invite you over again?”

Courtney shrugged. “Because I’m one of the few people who still put up with your ass.”

Paige scoffed. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah,” Courtney said, cracking open another drink. “But I’m right.”

Paige didn’t argue.

—----------

Later that night, after the noise had faded and the apartment had gone still, Paige crawled into bed and stared at the text from her agent. She didn’t roll her eyes, but the instinct was there.

She knew she should do it. She’d known since before the draft even started. Since the trade went through. Since someone in PR mentioned “messaging alignment” and how nice it would be if she tapped in as a vet.

A simple post. A “Welcome to Minnesota.” A teammate move. The kind of thing that looked good. That people noticed.

She remembered her own draft night. The nerves that crept in after the cameras cut. The way everything felt bigger than she was, even if she didn’t show it.

And she remembered what it meant—seeing a name she recognized in her notifications. A vet she respected saying something as small as can’t wait to hoop.

She hadn’t known, at the time, if she belonged yet. If she’d be accepted. That one message hadn’t fixed it, but it had helped.

Paige sighed, unlocked her phone, and started typing.

She didn’t follow Azzi yet. She hadn’t thought about it. Not really her thing to follow people before they showed up. Rookies came and went. Most of them weren’t worth tracking until they were in the gym.

But Azzi was going to be her teammate. Number one picks don't go anywhere.

And so, Paige typed “azzi” into the search bar. First result. Blue check. Profile picture of her in a UCLA uniform. 

She tapped follow. Found a photo of her holding the jersey on stage. Shared it to her story. 

Typed:

Welcome to Minnesota. Let’s work. Tagged her. Posted it.

Then she locked her phone, flipped it face down on the nightstand, and turned out the light.

Azzi’s POV

The afterparty was loud, gold-lit, and dripping in free liquor. Azzi was still wearing her heels—even though she swore she wouldn’t be that girl—but the champagne buzz made it easier to lie to her calves.

She was mid-laugh when Caroline grabbed her by the wrist, yanked her away from the circle of girls around the DJ booth, and shoved her phone into Azzi’s face like it was breaking news.

“AZZI.”

Azzi turned, grinning. “Jesus. What?”

Caroline didn’t speak. Just shoved her phone forward again like it was a bomb. “Look.”

Azzi squinted. Read what was on the screen. Blinked once. And then fully screamed.

Because there it was. Paige Bueckers’ Instagram story. 

Welcome to Minnesota. Let’s work, @/azzifudd. Tagged. Plain as day.

Azzi clapped a hand over her mouth. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No, no, no.”

“Yes, bitch!”

Azzi grabbed Caroline’s phone like it might vanish. Stared at the story. The caption. Her name. Her face. Paige fucking Bueckers had posted her.

“Did she follow me?” Azzi asked, voice already an octave too high.

“Yes.”

“She tagged me?”

“YES.”

Azzi shrieked again. Someone turned and looked. She didn’t care. She was pacing in tiny drunk circles, heels clacking against marble, one hand still holding her drink like a lifeline, the other pressed flat to her chest.

“I’m gonna throw up,” she said.

Caroline looked delighted. “No, you’re gonna cry. Then you’re gonna DM her. And then you’re gonna marry her.”

Azzi stopped mid-circle. “Do I DM her?”

Caroline blinked, like she couldn't believe Azzi took that seriously. “Are you insane?”

“Yes?”

Azzi fumbled for her own phone. Opened Instagram. Her hands were sweaty. Her brain was screaming. But there it was. Paige Bueckers. Blue check. Following you.

She screamed. Again.

Caroline absolutely cackled. “You’re gonna combust,” she wheezed, clutching her stomach.

Azzi didn’t answer. Just leaned back against the wall, head tipped toward the ceiling like if she moved even a little, the alcohol and adrenaline sloshing around inside her might actually spill out.

“She posted me,” she whispered.

“Yup.”

“She knows I exist.”

“She definitely does.”

Azzi dropped her phone. Caroline caught it mid-air.

“I peaked,” Azzi said, eyes glassy. “It’s all downhill from here.”

Caroline laughed so hard she snorted. “This is the gayest moment of your life.”

“So far,” Azzi shot back, managing a wink.

Caroline cracked up again, and Azzi just sat there—grinning like a dumbass and letting herself have it. The moment. The buzz. The quiet shock of it actually happening.

And yeah, sure—maybe the woman she’d been casually obsessed with since she was eighteen had just acknowledged her existence...publicly. And maybe her brain had short-circuited a little. But this wasn’t just about Paige.

This was hers.

Her name. Her number. Her jersey. The dream she’d chased across a thousand late nights and long practices, now finally unfolding—loud and real and hers.

—-

Her and Caroline ended up in bed together.

Not like that. Just sideways across the hotel mattress, still in their dresses, makeup smudged, Azzi’s heels abandoned somewhere under the desk. The lights were off, save for the glow of Caroline’s phone screen and the pale halo of the city bleeding through the window. Azzi was lying dramatically on her back, one arm flung over her face.

“She posted me,” she whispered for the third time that hour.

“Yes, Azzi.” Caroline’s voice was dry. “She posted you. We know. We have analyzed every font, every pixel, every breath of it.”

Azzi lifted her phone off her stomach and tilted it toward her face again. Paige’s story was still up. Still tagged. Still maddeningly casual.

“Do you think she picked that picture on purpose?” she asked.

“I think the options were limited.”

“But it's a good photo.”

Caroline rolled onto her side. “You looked hot. She noticed. Congrats.”

Azzi groaned, half-smiling. “She didn’t notice.”

“She did.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m saying that because it’s true.”

They were quiet for a second. Just the sound of distant traffic, the soft hum of the hotel AC, and the fizz of Azzi’s brain trying not to read too much into something that probably wasn’t anything.

Probably.

“I should repost it,” Azzi said finally.

“Yes,” Caroline said, without hesitation.

Azzi stared at her screen.

“What do I say?”

“Don’t overthink it.”

“I am overthinking it.”

“I know.”

Azzi hovered over the repost button for a full minute. Then tapped it. Drafted three different captions. Deleted all of them. Groaned into the pillow. Caroline waited, patient like the best friends always are when you’re being slightly insane but they loved you anyway. 

Finally, Azzi typed:

Let’s. Then added a basketball emoji. A wolf. A white heart. Paused. And hit post.

The story blinked up on her screen. Her name and Paige’s, together. Not side by side, exactly, but close enough. She exhaled, dropping the phone on the mattress between them.

Caroline nudged her knee. “Proud of you.”

Azzi smiled. Soft. Sleepy. “She’s probably not even thinking about it.”

Caroline shrugged. “Maybe not.”

They let the silence settle again. The good kind. The kind that means everything is still, and sweet, and safe.  Eventually, Caroline fell asleep. Azzi didn’t. Not right away.

Instead, she lay there blinking up at the ceiling, heart still doing that stupid flutter thing every time she thought Paige knows who I am.

Her phone kept buzzing. Someone replied to her story with fire emojis. Another repost. Another tag. Her mentions were chaos, but she didn’t check them.

Instead, she opened her own profile. Scrolled. Paused on a selfie with a suggestive caption from last summer. Deleted.

Another one—captioned something like wife me—gone.

A photo in Paige’s college jersey, posted years ago with an “accidental” crop that still showed the number? Archive.

She kept going. Just in case. Not because she cared what Paige thought. She didn’t. Not really.

She just wanted to seem…cool. Chill. Like she hadn’t been watching Paige play since she was young and realized just how good Paige was. Like she hadn’t watched her interview clips on YouTube, or bought that hoodie the second Paige wore it in a tunnel fit.

Azzi groaned quietly into her pillow. This was so dumb. She was a professional now. A grown-ass adult. Still, she archived one more post, just to be safe.

Then finally, she turned off her screen, slid the phone under her pillow, and rolled onto her side. Caroline was snoring softly behind her.

Paige Bueckers had tagged her. And now, they were teammates.

God help her.

—---

Training camp came quicker than she was prepared for.

One minute, she was still drunk off adrenaline and nice champagne, doing half-coherent interviews in a silk dress. The next, she was alone in her car with her duffel bag in the passenger seat and her knees shaking like it was the first day of high school.

The Lynx practice facility rose ahead, sleek and intimidating, like it was designed specifically to make rookies question their entire life.

Azzi stared out the window. Tried to breathe like a normal person.

She could do this. She had done this—first days, new teams, pressure so thick it pressed against her chest like a physical weight. She knew how to show up. Knew how to play.

Still, her legs wobbled when she stepped out. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was Paige Bueckers.

(Probably Paige Bueckers.)

She pulled her hoodie tighter around her neck, shifted her bag over her shoulder, and walked toward the doors like they weren’t the gateway to her actual childhood dream.

The glass reflected her face back at her—tired eyes, lips pressed into something that was almost a smile. She squared her shoulders.

This was fine. She was fine. Totally, absolutely, one-hundred-percent fine.

She stepped inside.

The air was cool and smelled like disinfectant and money—cleaner than any gym she’d ever trained in. The kind of place built for greatness. The kind of place that didn’t just expect banners and trophies but demanded them.

Azzi paused just past the entrance, eyes catching on the wall to her right. Photos stretched down the hallway—players frozen mid-crossover, mid-celebration, mid-legacy. Maya Moore. Seimone Augustus. Napheesa Collier.

And then...

Paige Bueckers.

Azzi’s eyes caught on that one. Briefly. Too briefly. She looked away fast enough to give herself whiplash, like if she didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t register.

It was a good photo though. Intense. A little smug. Paige had her hands on her hips, chin tipped like she already knew she’d won — because she probably had. That kind of quiet confidence you couldn’t teach, just had to be born with.

And yeah. Maybe Azzi had once saved that exact photo to her phone. For, you know. Motivation. But she had deleted it last week like any normal person would. 

Azzi adjusted the strap on her duffel and kept walking. Kept ignoring the creeping thoughts threatening to topple her. 

She didn’t need to stare at a wall of greatness and spiral about where she fit in. Or worse: imagine what her photo would look like up there one day.

What if I never make it?

Nope. Not today.

Today, she had one job: walk in like she belonged. Even if her stomach was flipping and her palms were clammy and her brain was already shouting don’t say anything weird to Paige Bueckers.

One step at a time, she forced herself to think.

She pushed open the locker room door and stepped in, trying to look chill. She wasn’t.

The place was already alive. Bass pulsing through the speakers, someone laughing from the far corner, the sharp rip of a duffel unzipping. It smelled like eucalyptus and someone’s overpriced lotion, warm and floral and a little too strong.

Heads turned.

“Look who finally showed up,” Bridget said, lounging in a sports bra and sweats, socked feet kicked up. “Miss Number One.”

A few others laughed, and Courtney gave her a nod from across the room. “Go ‘head and find a seat, rookie.”

Azzi smiled because what else could she do? She gave a small wave, muttered, “Nice to meet y’all,” and found the open locker with her name on it. 

A few players came over to introduce themselves. A little side hug from Alanna. Another grin from Courtney as she passed with a protein shake in one hand and her phone in the other.

“Welcome to the league,” she said, tossing it over her shoulder like it wasn’t the coolest thing anyone had ever said to her.

Azzi smiled again, this time a little tighter. She was trying not to scan the room too obviously, but the longer she stood there, the more obvious it felt.

No Paige.

The absence settled over her like static. Not loud, but present.

She didn’t say anything. Just peeled off her hoodie, folding it with too much care—like it was the most important thing she'd do all day. She stuffed it into her duffel and wiped her palms on her leggings, fingers twitching.

Eyes darted around again.

Still no Paige.

“You good?” Alanna asked, passing by again.

“Yeah,” Azzi said quickly. “Just… taking it in.”

“I get it,” She said with a small smile. “But you got drafted for a reason. So, remember that.”

Azzi nodded and tried to keep breathing.

She reached for the hem of her shirt and yanked it up, halfway over her head, arms caught for a second, shoulder twisting awkwardly.

Of course, that’s when the door swung open behind her. Because timing was a cruel, heartless bitch.

She stilled. The fabric still clinging to one arm.

And then, the room shifted in that subtle, almost imperceptible way that happens when someone important walks in. Energy coiling. Conversations dipping.

She yanked the shirt off with a violent twist, hair static-y and sticking to her face, and turned around and almost died.

Paige Bueckers. In the flesh. Black hoodie. Basketball shorts. Tall. Blonde. Looking like a deleted scene from a Nike commercial. Like she hadn’t just walked into Azzi’s most persistent daydream.

Azzi stood there, caught mid-breath, shirt clutched in her hands like she was preparing to wave it as a white flag.

Paige’s eyes flicked to her. Not in a weird way. Just in a normal, I-am-acknowledging-you-as-a-human-being way.

And then she nodded.

Just a nod. A small, neutral nod. Like good morning, or I see you exist, or I didn’t just walk in on you shirtless, don't make it a thing.

Azzi nodded back. A simple gesture. Easy. Universal.

Except—no. Not the way she did it.  Too fast. Too eager. Like a bobblehead with something to prove.

Cool, she thought. Real chill. Definitely nailed the nod. But then came the panic spiral.

Was it too sharp? Too aggressive? Had she nodded up or down? Was it more of a chin lift? What if Paige thought she was challenging her? What if it looked like a salute? Oh god—what if it looked like a bow?

She didn’t dare glance back to check.

Instead, she turned to her locker, opened it with forced purpose, and stared into the abyss of the empty space like it held the meaning of life.

She could feel Paige’s presence behind her. That quiet, steady energy. The kind that didn’t need to fill space because it already owned it.

Azzi, meanwhile, was contemplating the physics of spontaneous combustion.

She took out her water bottle. Put it back. Took it out again. Her hand was shaking slightly, which was fun and normal. And then, because apparently her body was still committed to ruining her life, she nodded again.

At no one. To herself. As if to say: Yes. Good. Great. You are the nodding champ!

She blinked at the wood shelf in front of her and whispered under her breath, “Kill me.”

Then she slapped the locker shut and sat down like everything was fine.

(It wasn't.)

Paige’s POV

Paige pushed open the locker room door, hoodie sleeves shoved up, headphones still around her neck. Familiar voices bounced around the space—Courtney arguing with Bridget about something dumb, someone laughing near the back. Normal. Comfortable.

She stepped inside.

Azzi Fudd was halfway out of her shirt, arms stuck, shoulder twisted awkwardly like her body had forgotten the mechanics of sleeves. Paige barely registered it, just enough to slow her pace, glance once.

Azzi finally yanked the shirt off. Hair clinging to her face, cheeks already pink. She turned around like she’d been summoned. And froze.

They made direct eye contact. Azzi’s eyes blowing wide. Paige blinked, looked around the room for a beat, wondering if she’d missed something—spilled drink, surprise visitor, fire alarm. But no. Just Azzi. Still staring. Still mid-panic.

So Paige nodded. Simple. Casual. Nothing loaded. Just Hey.

Azzi nodded back. If you could call it that. It was more like a full-body twitch. Quick. Panicked. Slight unhinged. And maybe even painful.

Paige arched a brow before continuing to walk. But from the corner of her eye, she saw it: Azzi staring into her locker like it was a portal to another dimension. Pulling out a water bottle. Putting it back. Pulling it out again.

Then, unbelievably, nodding. Again. At no one.

Beside her, Courtney let out a low snort, knocking their shoulders together on instinct. Paige didn’t look over. Just rolled her eyes, pulled her headphones off, tucked them into her locker.

Didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. But in her head, one word rang clear and smug:

Trouble.

[fairestwriting]

HI omg I love ur writing sm!! Also sorry im new to tumblr so im sorry if this is incorrect u can ignore it :)

I wanted to know if I could request Jamil, Azul and Leona with an S/O that barely sleeps because they stay up working.

Thank u sm!! :D

in celebration of me surviving my exams…… felt thematically appropriate to do this one (that i apparently had in my drafts for a while????

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

It’s one of those things he doesn’t really get. He knows you’re a hardworking person since well before you two start dating, and despite his own disillusionment on the matter… Yeah, he does admire it. You have more drive by yourself than most Savanaclaw students combined, he can’t say it’s not impressive in a way. But, the way you just give up rest time is…

”Did you really pull an all nighter for that?” He asks the first time he notices it, following a day where you’d been talking all the time about this one assignment. It comes out sounding very much like a joke, and a mean one at that… That’s not really what his intention was, his expression falters when you frown at it. Not sure how to follow it up.

He understands that your work is important to you, and he respects you too much to get aggressive over it, obviously, but… really, he can’t find this anything other than ridiculous. Is it even worth that much effort? What are you gaining from this? He doesn’t openly ask you the questions, Leona knows how biased he is when it comes to the topic. And, again, how important it is to you.

Settles for pestering you to nap with him, while he can’t wrap his head around how to approach the topic in a serious way. ”Come on. You turned it in, now you better get some sleep before you keel over.” He comes up to you whenever he finds out you’re done with your work, then straight up drags you off to bed. Yours or his, just whichever one is closest. And it *is* hard to resist falling asleep, when you’re already so tired, and everything is so cozy and warm… so his plan does work. And he’s pretty happy it does.

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

No judgement, he’s done the same thing before. He kind of relates to it, to be honest. Maybe even a little too much— Maybe, so much that he’s a little bit of an enabler, at first. Though, of course, that’s not his intention at all. It just happens that he has similar habits.

It’s all lighthearted in the beginning. ”You didn’t get much sleep, did you? Not that I’m that much better off.” He jokes on some days, and asks if you want to come to the Lounge to get coffee or tea later. He asks you to let him know when you take your breaks when you’re working late, so you can commiserate over text or help each other or even just have a better spent few minutes.

He feels like he understands, whatever you reason for doing it all is. Even if it’s a lot different from his own, he still feels some level of kinship. Because you’re in it together, right? You don’t have to act like you’re not tired around him, he doesn’t have to act like he’s not tired around you. It’s comforting.

…It is also worrying after a while, though. There’s something about seeing your own bad habits reflected on loved ones that really gets to people, and Azul certainly isn’t immune to that. The texts during your shared breaks start turning much more caring, reminders for you to eat and drink water and at least not skip those breaks — Because he knows he probably won’t be able to convince you to just stop immediately. He knows it wouldn’t work with him, at least, and maybe he’s projecting a little. But it makes sense to him. And if you won’t take him up on his offer to call it a night yet, then he’ll just work with what he has. As long as it makes you feel a little bit better in the morning.

𐙚 Jamil Viper

Your hardworking nature is one of the things Jamil admires about you, maybe even one of the things that initially drew him to you — Especially considering how far you’re willing to take it. He does know that it’s not something to blindly admire, because, of course, there should be a limit to how much of yourself you’re willing to sacrifice for the sake of… excelling? Is that your reason to do it?

When he starts to see just how much sleep you’re skipping on, that dies down a bit. ”Not that I don’t think you’re doing a good job, but do you really have to stay up so late for this?” He questions you when it starts to seem like too much. It’s not that he changes his mind completely, just…

He finds himself conflicted on the topic, a bit similarly to Leona. A part of him wonders if you’re really doing this out of your volition, if there’s something that’s compelling you to be so willing to disregard your own health. Jamil will find himself wondering how to deal with that possible something, whether it’s your own thoughts tormenting you, or some form of outside force. Both options are pretty equally serious to him.

And Jamil isn’t really the most straightforward person out there, but… he really sees no way out of this other than directly asking you about it. You’ve been doing enough, more than enough, so why did you keep up with this awful routine? He’s not willing to argue on how damaging it is, he can see how vacant and honestly weak you look sometimes. And he doesn’t want that to continue, he wants to get to the bottom of the issue so it doesn’t have to continue anymore. Of course, he’s not so naive that he thinks he’ll totally change your mind with just one conversation, and if there’s really some outside force pressuring you, it’s even more complicated, but that’s not really the point— Before anything else, he wants you to know that you’re doing well, that he cares, and that he wants to help however he can.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[yanderes-galore]

dirk anon here finally with request 5 (my final request!!!!!!) again, all gender neutral :3

Fandom: Cookie Run Kingdom Character(s): Shadow Milk Cookie and Pure Vanilla Cookie (sharing reader, id prefer if theyre not shipped together but if you'd like to write otherwise das ok :3) Pairing: Romantic/Rivalry/Harem(?) Type of Fic: Concept/Headcanons Other Info: i love the idea of these two sharing a darling. or a rivalry that becomes sharing. i have no idea what else to say i think it will be fantastically chaotic /lh (you can choose if it stays a rivalry or if they end up sharing :3)

I don't ship CRK so I get it. At least... I have exceptions. These two are NOT shipped together in this. No worries!

PV = Pure Vanilla

SM = Shadow Milk

TR = Truthless Recluse

Yandere! Pure Vanilla + Shadow Milk HCs/Discussion

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry/Sharing (Sorta)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Jealousy, Stalking, Sabotage, Clingy behavior, Overprotective behavior, Possessive behavior, Dubious/Forced relationship(s).

Honestly, I do find the idea of writing HCs of the dynamic between these two fun (also I was given a lot of requests to write for them both).

The two don't need to be together to have a rivalry or share.

I personally just like to view them as opposites.

Yandere-wise they're opposites too.

I typically write PV as submissive, gentle, and kind... even as a yandere.

PV dedicates himself fully to his love... Even if it gets himself hurt.

SM, obviously, is completely different.

SM is dominant, cruel, and rough at times with you.

He wants control, not to be controlled.

However... I do think SM is occasionally submissive on his own.

Yet if he's competing with PV, he doesn't plan on being vulnerable.

I feel like with normal PV, sharing between them isn't really... sharing.

It's more like a rivalry that's barely hidden.

Tolerance would be more like it.

PV doesn't feel secure just leaving you with a Beast like SM.

SM already feels you're his... Yet uses PV's affection to... well... hurt him.

Actual sharing would be between TR (Truthless Recluse) and SM since SM would want TR to help him corrupt you.

Yet since I already have a draft planned for that, I won't spill that here.

Instead, this is a rivalry before Truthless Recluse.

SM still very much despises PV for replacing him and being all heroic.

So when SM finds out PV has someone he loves... It gives SM ideas.

Considering how SM thrives off manipulation and likes to take his anger out on PV...

You can imagine how the rivalry started.

It starts as SM using you against PV to hurt him.

SM thinks he's above love... However...

You still manage to make him obsessive about you in the end.

PV is trying his best to protect you from his beastly counterpart.

Unfortunately, there's times it feels like an uphill battle.

The rivalry probably takes place once you all get The Spire officially.

Yet when the seeds are planted are probably when you first arrive in Beast-Yeast to help the Silver Kingdom.

This is where SM gets his first look at you.

You knew PV first, the hero having been by your side as you traveled Crispia.

He may have not even been yandere... although it's hard to tell with him since he's so gentle.

His yandere behavior doesn't kick in until there's a threat like SM, the beast locking his many eyes on you with sadistic glee.

Even when he's driven off... It isn't the end.

No, SM plans to watch you with PV until you get to his Spire.

Then the real fun can begin.

Despite these two being opposites... There's traits they have in common.

What comes to mind is their clingy and manipulative behavior.

While PV is protective and SM is possessive... They are both smothering.

PV wants to keep your attention on him to protect and love you... He wants his affection to be gentle and sweet.

SM, however, wants you to be a delightful little toy or puppet.

He sees you as someone to 'play' with and the jester hates sharing toys.

So, for the most part, they have a rivalry.

It's even worse when SM drags your group into his games, making you watch in his Spire so he can watch your reactions.

He's mostly focused on making PV suffer... all the while he gives you affection, knowing it will make everything sting more.

So... While I imagine they have a rivalry... I will admit they tolerate things between each other.

SM only promises to share you if PV gives into his games... and even hands over the Soul Jam.

SM exploits PV essentially, so unless PV becomes TR... There isn't a lot of sharing.

... Beast-Yeast story wise.

If you want an AU where you have them both in your Kingdom and SM is forced to play nice... Then they have more opportunities to tolerate each other.

PV is still protective due to what happened in Beast-Yeast, even in his awakened form.

SM is also still as chaotic as ever, but is reduced to a jester playing cruel jokes if he wants to stay around you and not get thrown out.

This could be an example of the two sharing with PV as his usual yet awakened self.

The two would tolerate each other because they want your approval in this AU.

SM still does questionable actions... stalking you with his magic eyes when he's unable to be around to watch you.

Although... PV isn't much better with how much he sticks around you.

The two are definitely obsessive about their feelings towards you....

Yet neither can make a move without the other one sabotaging the other.

SM is, ironically, the king of sabotage.

So they're both forced to keep their personal feelings to a minimum, like a stalemate.

This stalemate forces the two to tolerate sharing.

Or... more accurately, force SM.

I say that because now that I think about it... Awakened! PV wouldn't mind sharing.

PV would probably think using their shared affection over you would be a good way to convert SM to good.

So... It would be a rivalry right up until Awakened! PV happens.

In that case, it's only a rivalry to SM.

Overall I feel rivalry or sharing could work depending on certain situations.

It would be a rivalry with original PV, but it would be "sharing" with TR or Awakened! PV.

SM sees it as a rivalry regardless though.

Their overall dynamic is fun to discuss.

I like the idea of them trying to manipulate their obsession to the side of truth or lies.

PV means well, saying not to trust the beast.

Meanwhile, SM just likes to gaslight you into not trusting anyone.

After all... He's a master of lies.

If he and PV are so similar... Can you really trust PV?

I actually feel the rivalry would mostly conclude with PV awakening and trying to negotiate sharing you with SM.

Yet when it comes to SM... Who knows if he'll listen?

Sharing with them could easily become a rivalry again if SM tries anything.

Ironically, I'd describe their dynamic as chaotic all due to SM....

Sure, SM will tolerate PV's plan just so he can sneak in a few cuddles or possible kisses.

But someday... SM may just steal you away if PV doesn't change him.

Which, obviously, strikes the match on the rivalry again.

So, even when sharing, there's always that subtle tension...

A warning that things could go wrong regardless of who you choose.

[cloudcountry]

helloo!! i love ur writing sm! if u don’t mind, can i req tokyo debunker boys (jin, haku, lucas + any other characters u’d like) x a reader who’s a sweet social butterfly and bubbly? thank u & thank care of urself 🩷🩷

feel free to ignore this req if u dont feel comfy!

SUMMARY: jin, luca, and haku with a bubbly social butterfly mc!!

COMMENTS: sahgdja i need to start editing some stuff everything ive written these past few days is in my drafts...this was super cute!!! i loved writing it these boys are so soft T0T

TAGLIST: @as1iiiwhaa @astralsocfactory

When people see you with Jin, they aren’t sure they understand how that's supposed to work. Granted, it's none of their business, but they just can’t wrap their head around someone as social as you being around someone like Jin.

I feel like if Jin was friends with someone like this, he would feel so protective over them. Frostheim is not a good environment to be in, especially for someone like you. He views you as the good things in this world, and would shut everyone out if anything happened to you.

Tries to coax you not to talk to anyone else from Frostheim. Insists that most of the other houses are fine, you just...shouldn’t talk to anyone from here. Or Vagastrom. Or Mortkranken, either. Here’s an idea, just stay with him.

Knowing that you don’t care about the amount of money he has soothes his soul. Really, it’s a relief. He tries not to spoil you openly, lest the Frostheim girls get jealous, but once the two of you are out of Darkwick he’ll give you anything you ask for, forever.

Luca is a bit oblivious, but he’s also very sweet so you two will get along well!! If anyone gives him bad vibes though, he’ll whip out his swords to protect you and you will more likely than not have to talk him down.

Honestly, this is a pretty disarming combo for anyone trying to get something out of the two of you. You’re both just so friendly and upfront about everything that it puts a lot of Frostheim people off.

That’s okay though! That’s okay. Because really, all you need is your sweet boy right by your side while the two of you eat crepes (and Kaito third wheels HARD when you wipe some cream off of Luca’s face.)

It’s easy to be friends with Luca, but even more so when you’re just as friendly and bubbly. If anything, this makes him more protective of you the longer you stay at Darkwick. Nothing is ever going to happen to you—not on his watch.

Haku thinks you’re a cutie. It’s like you don’t even care that he flirts with you all the time, you just let him keep trying. He sighs whenever you manage to wiggle away from him, sticking your tongue out playfully.

It’s fine. He’ll get you next time. What you have is surprisingly wholesome, even when you consider his comments...Haku likes having someone who he can hug from behind. He likes listening to you laugh when he covers your eyes and tells you to guess who.

If you aren’t dating, people will just assume you are because of how close the two of you seem. Haku does not correct this. If you are dating, well, I have news for you! Everybody knows...everybody knows.

Don’t make the mistake of thinking Haku relaxed though—if anything, he’s more alert now that he has you by his side. Hey, what if someone sketchy tries to hurt you or pry information from those pretty lips? He can’t have that, now can he?

[churipu]

hihi i love ur works sm and i was wondering if i can request where the reader has an argument w the jjk men?? preferably w nanamin + any other characters :3 thank you in advance ^___^

BAD BLOOD — ARGUMENTS WITH JJK MEN !

featuring. nanami kento, choso, megumi fushiguro x reader

warnings. cursing, yelling, slight angst (ends in fluff dw).

note. hi anon, thank you for loving my works, it means a lot to me. and i love this request, i've been feeling like crap for the whole day so this is just what i needed! i hope you like this one <;33 and for anons who have sent in request, i'm writing them down and keeping them in my drafts for daily posts, so don't worry about it!

NANAMI KENTO. i feel like arguments with nanami will be very soft but angry. nanami is a gentle person, and he just hates the thoughts of saying something hurtful to you — but do keep in mind that he won't always be very soft, he could be loud at times. but most of your arguments with him are soft spoken, the both of you exchanging thoughts and troubles.

for the past few days, nanami has been extremely overworked and so you're walking on eggshells around him. he gets sensitive, and the slightest bit of inconvenience angered him. yes, you get it — he's tired from his work, you could totally understand that. he's a busy man after all.

"kento, don't you want to take a break..? you've been working non-stop, you'll get sick," you eyed him, poking around your food.

nanami sat across from you, his eyes glued to a paper, and honestly, it was getting a little sickening. all you wanted to do was to talk to him, but you felt as if you were selfish if you asked the man to prioritize you over his work — so you stayed silent, for almost a week the two of you haven't exactly been conversing right, or talking unless it was an exchange of "hi"s and "bye"s. but that was about it.

"i need to get this done, wait a moment."

that phrase sounded like a template by now, and you huffed, rolling your eyes, "i know, i'm just worried about you. you're not getting enough sleep, you're not eating well, and at this point, i'm just afraid that you'll dig your own gra—"

"i can take care of myself, thank you. you don't have to worry about me, i know what i'm doing."

you can't help but to furrow your brows at his cold reply, a little offended when all you seemed to be doing was care for him. the least he could do was thank you for it, "god, you don't have to be such an ass about it. forgive me for caring then."

at this point, your words only added fuel to the already big fire. nanami stared at you, the exhaustion in his eyes are apparent, and his lips pursed into a thin line before he inhaled sharply, "you're being a child, i just told you i can take care of myself. please, don't argue with me on this. i'm tired with all these paperwork, don't add more burden for my shoulders."

you clicked your tongue, standing up, not wanting to engage on this particular conversation anymore, "well forgive me for caring and for being a burden. enjoy your dinner," was all you spat out at him before going to the living room — plopping your body down the couch.

arguments with him usually ends up with the both of you apologizing to each other, but this particular argument seemed to not just go the way how it usually does. a couple of hours later, none of you talked. you assumed that the male finished his dinner, and you saw him walk by you into your shared room.

the two of you refused to talk to each other, or even as little as making an eye contact. you figured that you'd just spend the night in the living room where the TV could keep you company, so you stormed inside your shared room where nanami was on the bed, eyes still on his beloved papers.

he said nothing, nor did he spare a glance at you. so you become a guest in your own bedroom and grabbed your pillow, it wasn't that chilly outside so you didn't grab the only blanket laying on the bed (you actually left it there for him to use, the ac could be pretty cold at times).

and he never came out, not until you fell asleep with the TV still on. nanami hadn't even slept, he'd gotten his work done hours ago — but still he couldn't sleep. not without you by his side.

the clock strikes fifteen minutes past three in the morning, and nanami pushed himself up from the bed — feeling the void beside him, even with the blanket; he felt cold. opening the door softly, he trudged out of the room, the sight of you all curled up on top of the couch, vivid lights shining from the TV still managing to light up the whole living room despite the lights being off.

he squats down in front of you, brushing your h/c hair out of your face and it made you turn in your sleep. although not enough to wake you up completely, nanami one of his arm under your upper back, and one under your legs. carrying you inside the room with soft steps before laying you down, not forgetting to tuck you under the blanket and leaving trails of butterfly kisses on your face.

he could finally sleep.

with the sun rays greeting you through the creases of your still covered window, you squirmed. groaning out.

"y/n?"

upon hearing nanami's voice, your eyes flutter open. of course — it was a surprise for you to wake up on the bed when you fell asleep on the couch, "did you carry me here?"

nanami nods, he was leaning onto the bed post, "i'm sorry. what i said to you was wrong," he softly said.

the anger you felt the other night was gone by now, and you were just glad that nanami was willing to talk to you. you shook your head with a small smile, "it was part of my fault too, you were working — i shouldn't have pestered you too much."

nanami wasted no time in pulling you towards him, "you were worried for me. never apologize for that."

like i said, arguments with nanami will always end pretty quickly (the two of you are mature enough to talk it out), oh and also? he spoils you the entire day after an argument so — have fun!

CHOSO. i feel like choso would be confused a lot during arguments with you, on one side i could see him being brazen with his words, and on the other side i could see him being careful with them. no in between, he's definitely scared of saying the wrong things to you — and you getting hurt emotionally, hurts him as well. so at times he just tries to end it quickly by saying sorry.

god, he hates seeing you sad. at the end of the day, if he did say things the wrong way (even if it was to defend himself when he's not wrong), choso will apologize to you for how he said his words (and you'll apologize for your mistake). but choso has his share of apologizing because of his mistake too.

"cho, are you listening to me? gosh, you never pay attention to what i'm saying, are you taking this seriously?" choso looks up at you with his brows furrowed, definitely frustrated by everything that was happening around him right now.

first of all, he expected today to be a very special day. he hasn't seen you for the past couple of days because you've been so busy with work, and he was so excited when you told him you'd be having a couple of days to rest. he couldn't wait to meet you and go out on dates with you.

but clearly, his expectations were shoved down the drain because here you both were — arguing over your work hours choso had brought up a few minutes prior. and all he said was that he wished that the both of you would have more time to spend together, which irked you.

it had been a rough week with work where you had to write and write and write on countless paperwork (which you couldn't really complain on because you signed up for the job). and you weren't afraid to admit that you were in the wrong this time, when all choso wanted was time with you. here you were, getting all riled up because he wished that he had more time with you, and if the roles were switched; you were pretty damn sure you'd say the same thing to him.

"'m sorry for bringing that up. can we go out now..? i don't wanna fight w' you." choso mumbled out, averting his gaze to the side.

his tone ripped you away from your anger and you sighed, pulling him into your embrace, "cho, 'm sorry. i shouldn't have taken my anger out on you just because i've had a rough week."

choso returned your embrace mutely, a small smile dawning upon his lips. he was just glad the argument was cut short. all he wanted to do now was to go out of this slump and make you the happiest person ever — even just for a moment, a couple of days before you eventually have to return back to work.

"cho, say something."

choso pulls away from your touch, "i forgive you. let's go out? missed you. so much."

for the rest of the day, you and choso had the most fun in a week. also, choso fell into a pond in the park because he wasn't looking at the road — and also, you might've called your boss to extend your rest day (by saying you weren't feeling well) so you could have more time to spend with your boyfriend.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO. i feel like megumi's the type of boyfriend who tries to stay out of arguments with you, if he was entangled in one where he isn't in the wrong — and you tell him to do something, he'd just kind of do it without any complaints. tell him to shut up? he shuts up. tell him to go away? he'll leave. tell him to leave you alone? he'll leave you alone (for a couple of hours).

but when he feels like things aren't ceasing, he'd try his best to negotiate with you and try to find out what the core of the problem is between the both of you. let's be real, megumi is a realistic type of person, he'd never admit that he's wrong when he isn't just to solve things the fast way, even to you; his own partner.

"y/n. how many times do i have to tell you that it's not that i'm bored of you alright? i've been busy. i'm not bored of you."

okay, you didn't expect one question to lead to this argument. all you asked him was a simple yes or no question: "are you bored of me?" and you didn't throw the question for no apparent reason, the reason behind that question itself was megumi's change of behavior the past two weeks.

he'd been extremely distant, and cold. whenever you asked him about it, he just tells you that he's tired. which you could totally understand since he is pretty busy, like uncle ben said: "with great power comes great responsibility."

being a jujutsu sorcerer is a big responsibility. you could understand where it was coming from, but when it happens again and again, you can't help but to overthink about it. overthink about how megumi might be bored of you and the whole relationship.

"megumi, i...okay— i'm sorry for asking about this. i was just worried." you tell him, not wanting to argue any longer about this whole thing, "i'm sorry, you must be stressed out with school and stuff."

megumi furrowed his brows, inhaling sharply, "no, no.. i'm sorry for lashing out. let's talk about this. i don't want you to get the wrong idea."

megumi explained everything from a to z, about how he was still so in love with you and he had been distant because of his power and what comes with it. it was pretty cute to listen to him talk, the constant flush on his face whenever he talks about you, and the stress in his voice when he talks about his power was apparent.

poor boy just needed a break.

"megumi, let's take a nap. you look like you need it."

"...i do."

argument ended. relationship stronger. and you both get to nap together, absolute win-win.

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[luffington]

OMG im obsessed with the fic with Cora and Doffy X Reader! i was wondering if i could request just Corazon X Reader? im absolutely crazy about the idea of sweet Cora having those repressed sadistic urges, and his struggle with wanting to be soft and kind, but cant help liking the darker and meaner, its just. UGH SO GOOD

Maybe the reader could have picked up on that a bit and is teasing him into giving in to those urges (which they're totally into lol)

Also i love your fics sm! keep up the great work <3

✧.* art credit!

➤ pairing: donquixote rosinante (corazon) x gn!reader

➤ word count: 1.3k

➤ warnings: dom!corazon, possessive!corazon, dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), praise kink, established relationship, fem reader

RIGHT ITS SUCH A GOOD CONCEPT!!! we barely know anything about cora outside of what law experienced and we'll probably never find out more so.... character interpretation!

my first draft of this had a paragraph where the reader acted bratty to try to coax out his mean side and he almost starting crying.... i took it out because i couldn't do that to him (ㅠ‸ㅠ)

this ended up being pretty similar to the other fic (read here) but i hope you like it!

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Corazon was the sweetest man you’d ever met. Sure, he was a master of deception – hiding his Devil Fruit powers and tricking his brother into trusting him was definitely not an easy feat. His anger issues could use some work, even though the reasons behind his outrage were always justified. But his loving personality and strong sense of morality were very real.

He never doubted your kind heart, either. You had joined the Donquixote Family simply because you had no other options, and dealing with his crazy older brother was better than starving on the streets. Corazon was able to relax around you, be silly and affectionate without being judged by his cold-hearted coworkers, and finally speak after long stretches of staying silent.

But there was more to him.

Doflamingo seemed to be the black sheep based on what little you knew about the biological Donquixotes. A rare case of madness in an otherwise well-intentioned family. However, the brothers still shared the same genes and the same horrific childhood. And even though Corazon never discussed his experiences in the Navy, he certainly witnessed terrible things that still weighed on his mind.

Your boyfriend tried his best to keep any deep-rooted darkness away from you, but it was unhealthy for him to repress every negative emotion. You wanted him to feel comfortable around you. He didn’t need to be an angel all the time.

One time, the eternally clumsy blonde almost fell trying to hover above you in bed. Not wanting to crush you with his ten-foot tall body, he caught himself by grabbing your arm. Hard. You squeaked in surprise and he immediately apologized, but dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises stained your skin by the end of the night.

Early the next morning, when he thought you were still asleep, he lightly traced the marks over and over. You caught him staring at them throughout the day, too, looking more intrigued than upset. He littered your neck, chest, and thighs with hickies the next time you fucked, and you realized inflicting pain wasn’t what turned him on – he didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted to mark you. Those were his fingerprints on your arm.

So much was taken away from him at a young age that of course he wanted to claim you as his own. Hickies were more conventionally sexy than bruises, so he was less ashamed about admiring them in front of you and telling you how pretty you look. Even gently rubbing a large one on your neck during a Family meeting, which made his brother huff and tell you to get a room. Corazon did get a room after that – pulled you aside into a private bathroom and fucked you against the sink while making you stare at yourself in the mirror. Whispering in a deep voice about how the color of your hickies matched his plum-colored lipstick.

A few weeks later, he came home in the middle of the night after being away on a mission with Diamante and Trebol for nearly a week. Thunder boomed outside the window and his feathery black coat left behind a trail of rainwater as he stumbled into your shared room. His tall frame visibly shook with anger, his dark sunglasses barely covered the fury burning in his eyes. You got out of bed to greet him and asked how the operation went, but he just pulled you into a very wet hug and mumbled, “I don’t want to think about it ever again.” 

You blinked slowly and whispered, “I can help you forget.”

The blonde threw his half-burned cigarette to the floor then smashed his lips against yours. He didn’t bother taking the time to build up to a heated kiss. Immediately biting your lower lip raw before pushing his long tongue inside your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut, easily submitting and letting him take whatever he wanted from you. The smell of smoke caught both of your attention. Corazon instinctively stomped out the cigarette ashes smoldering on the throw rug without tearing away from the kiss for even a moment. 

“Let me use you.” He looked as desperate as he sounded. “Just for tonight, can you be my little doll? I’ll make it up to you later, I promise, I’ll be so good to you.” Heat shot straight to your core and you nodded fervently, clutching onto his drenched clothes like your life depended on it.

Which is how you ended up with his lengthy cock down your throat, your bare ass in the air and body wedged between his sprawled-out legs. Calloused fingers tangled in your hair to firmly guide you up and down. Graciously giving you time to relax by letting you swirl your tongue around the swollen tip, though he never pulled you entirely off his dick. He looked so pretty like this – damp hair clinging to his forehead, pale cheeks turned pretty pink, subtly squirming on the mattress, pupils fully blown out with lust. 

Corazon suddenly thrust upwards to hear you gag, several inches of his cock forcing their way into your tight throat. Tiny teardrops reflexively lined your eyes as your gag reflex kicked in. You expected the blonde to panic and immediately stop – even though it was just your body’s natural reaction and you were enjoying every second. But instead, he licked his lips like he wanted to devour you. 

There were those Doflamingo genes.

But unlike his selfish brother, Corazon asked if you were comfortable with everything happening for the second time that night. You gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, obviously unable to verbally confirm with his dick stretching your mouth to its limit. His cock drooled salty precum onto your tongue as thick globs of your drool dripped down to his balls. 

You used both hands to stroke the rest of his length that couldn’t fit in your mouth – the huge man had a huge dick to match. Corazon swatted them away, held your wrists in one giant hand then pushed down hard until every inch of him was deep in your throat, messy blonde pubes tickling your nose. He was glad he set up a sound barrier, otherwise the entire Family would’ve heard the debauched moan that spilled from his lips.

After a few moments of admiring you and the prominent bulge in your throat, your boyfriend released you just before it became too much. “Good girl,” Corazon panted with a dazed smile. “Such a good girl, taking it all like you’re supposed to.”

He gave up trying to hold back after that, bucking his hips against your face and rambling about how pretty and perfect you looked like this. He pressed your head all the way down again just before he hit his peak, shooting a large load of cum directly into your stomach. When he saw your ruined state, a dark pit formed in his stomach. Tears stained your cheeks and spit dripped down your chin as you gasped for air, and he was turned on by it. 

Corazon quickly pulled you close to press soft kisses against your cheek and make sure you were okay. Nothing you said seemed to convince him, so you brought his hand between your thighs. When he swiped a finger through your folds, his eyes widened at how wet you were. He admired the way your sticky juices webbed between his digits, then immediately began toying with your cunt.

“I would’ve stopped you if you didn’t like it,” you grinned, shamelessly rutting against the palm of his hand. “Ruin me with your cock more. I’ll be a good toy for you.”

Corazon gulped, stomach fluttering with sinful excitement. “O-Okay, if… if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

Both of you knew he wanted it more than anything.

[hxnbi]

hi!! I love your writing :). I wanted to request an angst to fluff scenario where reader likes the boy and confesses to him but he turns her down, but then he later regrets it and comes back?? and they live happily ever after??? i don’t really have any specific preferences other than that but im such a sucker for rejecting and regretting/she falls first he falls harder scenarios!! im using her/she to refer to the reader rn but i dont have any preference, just not sure how else to write it haha id love if you could include suo, togame, and umemiya but totally up to you :).

hey so thanks sm for your request! i loved writing this and with these boys, tho umemiya's does end on a pretty angsty note with how i was initially drafting it. i hope thats okay ♡

confessions, rejections, and regrets

⸻ °♡⃘ . you confess to the boy you liked, only to be rejected. or so you think, as, unbeknownst to you, the next time, it would be him begging for your heart

⸝⸝ 𑅛𑅫 Suo Hayato

Tears. All you could feel dripping from your face and down your cheeks was the salty aftermath of your own tears. And standing before you, the boy who had just rejected you.

"I'm sorry, I just don't see you in that light," Suo, with his hands firmly placed in front of the other, repeated, further breaking your heart into a million pieces.

Pitifully, you laughed—but little humour was found in the dreary quiet of your heart. "I know," you whispered, choking down the ache that was your confession to the person you'd grown to admire and love.

The pain lingered with every thought—that Suo was simply just too good for you, but so did your respect for him. Even if you tried your hardest to do so, you just couldn't find it in yourself to dislike him. 

Suo had always been kind, even as he rejected you.

That was part of why you liked him so much in the first place. Even if it hurt, you couldn't blame him for having such feelings about you that just weren't the same. You couldn't continue to be selfish.

"I know. Just, thank you, for hearing me out," you said, your voice becoming surprisingly steady, slowly accepting what you heard. "That's just the kind of person you are."

And then you walked away. You refused to let him see the fresh tears welling up in your eyes. You respected his choice. If he didn't reciprocate your feelings, you couldn't force it. It had to be mutual—or nothing at all.

Days turned into weeks, and though you still felt the ache of his rejection, like with most things, you had to move on and push forward. You treated Suo the same way you treated everyone else. Although, you couldn't deny that it was rather awkward after Suo saw you well up with tears dripping down your face like a waterfall. And it didn't help that you both were friends with the Furin first years, like Kiryu and Nirei, whom you were very close to.

So, time and time again, you would avoid Suo like the plague; all the while, he seemed to watch from afar, unsure of how to bridge the gap. You were always respectful, never bitter, never clinging. It was difficult, but you refused to let your emotions tarnish your friendship or make things awkward. 

Suo, however, found himself unable to stay away. He'd initially assumed your feelings for him were just surface-level, a kind of shallow attraction to his looks, but that couldn't have been further from the truth. He only realized this when he peeled back the layers of who you were—a kind, genuine individual so far removed from the superficial affection he had imagined. And as time passed, he began to notice more—the way you treated everyone around you with the same kindness and consideration.

But over time, Suo would see you purposely trying to hide from him, all the while pretending everything was okay and nothing changed. It was saddening, in a way, how your laughter grew quieter, your gaze avoiding his, and the fun and games you two once shared together seemed to slip through his fingers like grains of sand.

But you couldn't hide from Suo forever. 

"He just doesn't like me, Nirei.”

Taking a walk around the neighbourhood that evening, following his typical routine, Suo had unknowingly overheard you talking to Nirei. And unlike his straightforward character, he continued to hide behind the wall and listen, his heart aching with every word he caught from your lips.

"It’s not that I don’t care…" you said softly to Nirei, who had asked about what had happened between you and Suo. "He rejected me, and I have to respect that. You can't have a relationship if both sides don't feel the same."

"I see... B-But do you still like him?" Nirei finally asked, twiddling his own thumbs. 

You hesitated for a moment before answering, "I do."

That conversation was what really hit him hard. That you still liked him. That maybe... he wasn't too late to come around.

"Nirei, not knowing what to say to a person who seemingly still had feelings for one of his closest friends, winced, "He'll... he'll come around," not necessarily finding the right words, but you didn't appear to mind it. Rather, you were too distracted with your own feelings.

And Suo, hidden from view, felt his chest tighten. He wasn't sure why he'd been hiding in the first place, but suddenly, he couldn't bear to listen any longer. He shouldn't even be here, listening to your conversation and very obviously intruding on your privacy. 

But just before he could slip away, though, very conveniently, Sakura popped out from behind the corner. "The hell are you doing back here?" loud enough for both you and Nirei to hear and turn your heads to meet the noise—and Suo, right before your very eyes. 

Your eyes went wide in shock as you spotted Suo standing right there, seemingly who had heard everything.

"S-Suo, what are you—"

Back-and-forth looks were exchanged, and so too was the silence. Nirei and Sakura gave brief, knowing glances, and with a single look, Nirei left you two alone, much to your dismay and humiliation. 

You stood frozen, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts, none of which managed to form coherent words to say to the boy who had basically just heard you confess your feelings to him once again. Nervous and fidgeting, you finally let out a sigh. "Hayat– Suo, I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I promise that I'm not going to bother you anymore. I really—"

But your words and apologies were left on deaf ears—cut off mid-sentence before Suo suddenly reached for you, his hand gently pulling you toward him. Before you could even process what was happening, you found yourself wrapped in his arms, your head resting against his chest.

"I was wrong."

"…H-Huh?"

"I was so, so wrong," he muttered, grasping at the edge of your sleeve even tighter than just a second ago. "I thought you only liked me for shallow reasons, but... I've realized that I like you too. More than I ever let myself admit. And I apologize for making you wait."

You blinked, your brain going haywire, trying to comprehend every word that left his lips, but Suo only held you tighter, his chin resting on the top of your head. When you didn't answer, he went on—whether that was for your or his own reassurance that you wouldn't be the one rejecting him this time was unclear.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to see it, but I don't want to let this go," he murmured. "I don't want to lose you." He regretted every moment of him rejecting you since that day. And if you were to be the one rejecting him this time… 

Your breath hitched at the base of your throat, disbelief seeping into your every thought. Was he serious…? The boy who had rejected you, who had caused you so much heartache, was now confessing to the very feelings you had once longed to hear.

'You make it so unfair…' you muttered. 

Part of you wanted to reject him, to make him feel how you felt after he rejected you. But deep down, you knew you couldn't find it in yourself to throw away this chance. And neither could Suo.

"I… I still like you, too."

Your voice was hardly audible, but Suo heard it loud and clear. He pulled away just enough to meet your eyes, his expression soft and vulnerable. "Then let's start over."

Your lips trembled into a small smile. "Alright."

Suo leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, until Suo suddenly grabbed your hand, making you jump slightly. "Come on," he said, tugging you gently. "Let's go grab something to eat. I know of a good spot that just opened that serves your favourite food."

"W-Wait, Hayato, I thought you were on a diet?" you stammered, completely caught off guard by his change in behaviour. He had always been strict about his routine—always so disciplined, so focused. But now, he seemed different. Lighter, somehow. But that was Suo for you.

He smiled, softer this time, his eyes lovingly meeting yours. "I can't miss this opportunity to spend time with a special someone. You can't keep avoiding me forever," making your face flush crimson as his words sunk in.

⸝⸝ 𑅛𑅫 Togame Jo

Shit… he shouldn't have said that.

Togame's words had slipped out before he could stop them, and the second he did, he knew he had fucked up. He cursed from under his breath, his hands already reaching out toward you as your face crumpled with hurt.

You stood there, staring at him—processing every snide word that left Togame's mouth—your chest rising and falling as if you were struggling even to breathe. He didn't mean it. He knew he didn't mean it, and he was pretty sure you knew that, too. But the damage was done, and he could see it in your eyes, the way he could see the shimmering of unshed tears ready to drip down your flushed cheeks..

"I'm sorry," Togame said immediately, his voice softening as he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you like a protective barrier. He could feel you stiffen in his hold, your hands pushing weakly against his chest, but he wasn't about to let go, not on that horrible note. 

"Let go, Jo," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "You made your decision. You've... I've already said enough."

But Togame wasn't listening. Not with what he just had done and said that only left him with regrets. He couldn't take it anymore. Not the sadness in your voice, not the way you tried to pull away from him like he was a stranger. No, he wasn't letting you walk away like this, not after everything you had shared. And certainly not after everything he just spat at you.

"I didn't mean it, okay?" His words were rushed, almost desperate. Togame's grip on you only tightened with time, refusing to let go even an inch. "I was stupid. I-I'm sorry, I didn't know what I was saying, but I promise you, I'll fix this. I can't stand seeing you like this."

Your heart hurt at his words. You were utterly torn between wanting to believe him and protecting yourself from further hurt. After all, he had already said plenty… "You don't get just to say something like that and then take it back, Jo. It doesn't work like that..."

Togame's breath hitched as your words sliced the air and, in turn, his heart. His mind and body froze

That wasn't it. Not at all. He liked you. He loved you.

His rejection was but a projection of his own insecurities—that he wouldn’t be the right person for you.

But never did he think that he too didn’t want anyone else in your life, that it made his heart ache just thinking about it, the idea of someone else seeing your smile, hearing your laugh and holding the piece of your heart he so desperately longed for—that he previously had thrown away. 

He hated himself for it—hated that he’d let his fears dictate his actions, that he’d hurt the one person who made his world feel less empty.

But he couldn’t let this end here. Not like this.

"I know. But— fuck…" he said quietly, his voice breaking, cracking into incomprehensible pieces of a heartbroken sentence. His shoulders trembled as he finally loosened his rough grip on you. Although his hands still rested hesitantly on your shoulders. “I know I can’t undo what I said, but I need you to know... I was wrong. I’m so damn wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

Scrunching your face, you shook your head, gaze fixed on the ground as you tried to will away the tears that had long streamed down your face. “Why, Jo?”

Why. A simple explanation as to his stupid, idiotic, impulsive mistake was all that you wanted from him. 

His heart clenched at your words. Pure guilt tore him apart. He wished he could go back and rewind time to the moment before his insecurities took over. But he couldn’t. All he had now was this moment to make things right.

“Because I’m a coward!” 

His confession all tumbled out in a rush, unfiltered. “I’m a fucking coward.” Every word was a weight being lifted from his chest, all in hopes that you might understand might hear him out, even if it wouldn’t completely change things.  “I thought... I thought you deserved someone better. Someone who wouldn’t screw things up like I always do. Someone who could make you happy without dragging you into all my mess.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, for once, the honesty in his voice catching you heavily off guard. He appeared to be so unusually vulnerable, completely stripped of the bravado he usually wore like armour on his fists.

“But I can’t stop thinking about you,” he continued, his hands sliding down your arms as if needing a sense of reassurance that you were still with him and by his side and not a figment of his imagination. Hesitant but hopeful. “Every time I tried to push you away, it just made me want you more. And I was a complete idiot for thinking I could ever be okay without you.”

“Togame...”

“And I get it if you hate me for this,” he interrupted, all the words tumbling out of his mouth before he lost his nerve. “But I need you to know... I’m not asking for a second chanc—” he paused his sentence, before he could lose his resolve completely. “I love you. I’ve loved you all along, even when I was too scared to admit it.”

Your chest tightened. You oh-so-wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the pain, but his confession was undoing every wall you had tried to build.

“I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. Just... don't walk away from me. Please. Not like this."

“.....”

“...Do you mean that?” 

Your voice was hardly audible as you looked up at him.

“More than anything.” 

Togame cupped your smaller face in his callous hands, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped down your cheek, kissing the pain away.  “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if that’s what it takes.”

For the slightest moment, neither of you spoke. You could hardly hear a thing other than the sound of your breathing and the beat of his heart pressed tightly against yours. You felt his arms around you, warm and safe, and despite everything, a part of you wanted to stay right there, to believe that things could be okay. 

Then, slowly, you nodded, the smallest of smiles breaking through your tears. “I hate that you’re so good at making me believe you,” you said softly, for the first time all day, a small laugh escaped your lips. And it was heavenly. It was what he loved so much about you. 

Togame’s lips quirked up in a tentative grimace. “Does that mean… I get another shot?”

“Don’t make me regret it,” you murmured, but your voice was warm, filled with the hope that maybe—just maybe—this time things could be different. "I'm not going anywhere," you finally said. "But you have to mean it this time, Jo."

He nodded, his forehead resting against yours. "I do. I promise."

So, just like that, you let it go. Slowly, you relaxed in his arms, letting the weight of your sadness slip away, if only for a moment. Togame didn't let go, and neither did you.

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you allowed yourself to believe him. For now, that was enough.

⸝⸝ 𑅛𑅫 Umemiya Hajime

"But we can still be friends!" Umemiya's voice rang out, almost too cheerful for the conversation you'd just had. He flashed you that familiar smile, oblivious to how his words felt like a punch to your chest. 

"Oh! There's actually an event at Furin soon. I know you like a good barbecue. You should join us! It'll be fun!"

You stared at him, nonblinking, and for a brief second, you couldn't believe he was serious. How could he be so, casual? He must be playing you, right...? But no, that was just how Umemiya was, as you've found him for years.

You had just poured your entire heart into him, and in return, he offered you friendship—a friendship that you already had with him for years—as if it were a consolation prize. 

But your heart ached so much, desperate for any kind of connection to him, that even the slightest bit of attention, however hollow, felt like a lifeline. So you nodded, forcing a polite smile across your face. "Yeah... sure, I'll come."

And just like that, you became that of a shadow, a close friend who laughed at his jokes, stayed by his side when he needed someone, and cheered for him during the times when you both would play video games. You were nothing more than a mere member of his Furin family. All the times you would talk and laugh together with them were great,  and even the occasional late-night hangouts. But it wasn't enough. It was never fully enough. 

Staying close to Umemyia only made you want him more, and that fact haunted you. Being so close to him yet knowing you couldn't have him the way you wanted was agony. The more time you spent around him, the more you craved his attention, but not as a friend, no, but as something more. It gnawed at you, that longing, and with each passing day, it became harder and harder to pretend. 

It wasn't just unfair to you—it was unfair to him, too. He deserved someone who wouldn't secretly hope for something more, who wouldn't keep pushing the boundary between friendship and something deeper. You knew this arrangement couldn't go on, not without tearing you apart.

So, one night, after finally gathering the courage, you decided to put an end to it. But unbeknownst to you, Umemiya wasn't doing any better either. 

Before, he never considered you more than a friend—someone who'd been there through all the ups and downs, always supportive, always kind, always you.

He never questioned the ease with which he could talk to you or the way your laughter seemed to brighten the atmosphere of any room you were in. 

So when you finally confessed to him that very day—that your feelings toward him were more than what he thought—he hadn't thought much of it beyond friendship. He didn't think it was deeper than that… not until after he turned you down.

At first, Umemiya was convinced it was the right thing to do. He told himself he didn't feel the same way. But as the days passed, those same thoughts weighed differently on him. The way you still smiled at him, still treated him the same even after his rejection—it gnawed at him. 

He started seeing the little things he hadn't noticed before. The way you always knew exactly what to say to cheer him up after a bad day, the way your eyes lingered on him for just a second too long, the way your laugh sounded like it was just for him. 

And suddenly, it wasn't just about friendship anymore.

At night, alone with his thoughts, he realized he had been wrong. So, so wrong. The feelings he'd dismissed as just a fleeting affection had grown—almost insidiously—into something he couldn't ignore. It became a constant. An ache of longing to be near you, but this time, not just as a friend, but as someone who could hold you, kiss you, call you his own. 

So when you suddenly asked for him to, and you meet up together alone after the barbeque, Umemiya's heart jumped in his chest. This was it. This was his chance to fix everything and correct his mistake, to tell you the truth, to apologize for being so dense. He was ignorant, blatant even, to one of the dearest people in the world to him. 

Tonight, he was going to do it. He was going to make it up to you by apologizing and asking for forgiveness. He was excited, hopeful even, imagining the moment when he'd pour out his heart and beg for your forgiveness. You were kind, after all. You'd understand. You had to.

He could barely contain his nerves as he waited for you, replaying his apology speech over and over in his mind. 

But when you arrived, something felt off. But Umemyia merely brushed it off as mere nerves. But then you spoke.

"I can't do this anymore."

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, Umemiya's heart stopped. He forced a laugh, trying to shake off the unease creeping into his chest. "What do you mean? O-Oh! If you're talking about how Sakura was acting earlier, hah, he doesn't mean it! You know how he is, just messing around."

But you didn't smile. You didn't laugh. Your expression remained serious, and it made his stomach drop. No, it couldn't be, right?

"Umemiya, I can't do this anymore," you repeated once again, your voice breaking, trembling in a way he had never heard before. "I can't just act like nothing happened anymore. I thought that I could continue being your friend. I really tried. But... it hurts too much. Please, I—"

His heart clenched. No, no, no—this wasn't right. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go. He was supposed to apologize, to tell you how he felt, to fix things. But now, seeing you like this, so hurt, it paralyzed him.

"Don't say it."

"Hajime, please. Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

No, he couldn't let you walk away. Not like this. Not when everything had finally clicked for him. Before he could stop himself, the words spilled out, desperate and unplanned.

"—BUT I LOVE YOU!!"

And he said it.

The moment those words escaped his lips, everything seemed to freeze, and the silence that followed was unbearable. He watched you, waiting for some sign, some reaction that would let him know he wasn't too late. But your eyes... they were filled with so much pain, it made his heart ache even more.

You didn't speak right away, and the longer the silence stretched, the more regret began to claw at him. Why hadn't he seen it sooner? Why did he wait until now, when you were standing here, on the verge of walking away, to realize how much you meant to him? His own foolishness, his blindness—it was too much to bear.

"Why now?" you finally asked. Your voice was soft, barely audible, as if you were afraid of the answer he was giving. It wasn't angry, but it wasn't hopeful either. It was aching, that desperate part of you. "Why... after everything?"

Umemiya couldn’t answer. He didn't have a good reason. He just knew that he loved you now, that he couldn't imagine his life without you in it. But he also knew that might not be enough.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his hands trembling at his sides. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize... I didn't know until it was too late."

The tears in your eyes broke him. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He thought he'd be able to fix things, to make everything right, but now it felt like everything was slipping through his fingers.

And much to his horror, you shook your head slowly, stepping back, the distance between you growing—both physically and emotionally. "It's not fair, Hajime. You can't just say that now... not after everything."

For the first time in his life, Umemiya Hajime didn’t know what to say. He stood there, stunned, the words he wanted to say lodged in his throat because, deep down, he already knew.

He didn’t have the right to ask for more when he had rejected the very thing he now realized he couldn’t live without. He had turned you away, convinced it was for the best, only to understand far too late just how much he had thrown away. His indecision—his cowardice—had led to this moment. And now, it wasn’t just his heart breaking; it was yours, too.

He opened his mouth, tried to reach for you, but his arms fell back to his sides. He couldn’t keep making excuses. He couldn’t selfishly try to pull you back, not when his own fickleness had caused you so much pain.

So he let it happen. Right before his very eyes, he watched you take another step back, your face etched with a hurt he knew he had no way of easing. And when you turned, it felt as though the entire world had slipped out of his grasp.

The streets around him blurred as he stared at the spot where you had just stood, his mind and body going through the realization that he might just never get the chance to fix this.

“Wait...” he whispered hoarsely, hand unconsciously reaching forward, but the word fell into the silence, unheard and unanswered.

And with that, you were gone, leaving him behind—alone, with but the cold remnants of his mistakes.

lol i also noticed how each just gets slowly more bittersweet to straight up angsty in umemiya's

©hxnbi. comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated ♡

[webslingingslasher]

J!!! I don't remember if nerdy!peter plays video games but I'm pretty sure he does 😓 how would he react when angel keeps wanting his attention but he keeps saying 10 more minutes so she gets annoyed 😓😓

I literally love all your Peter's sm idek how u have the mind for all this!!

*cleaning out my drafts* wheew boy, i hope you guys remember nerdy!peter. he's been on a shelf too long!

peter doesn't even blink when you kiss the side of his face- he doesn't notice in the slightest. you hold in a sigh and mutter out a half-hearted goodbye.

'i'm leaving, i'll call you later.'

suddenly, peter's available to talk. 'woah, wait, you're leaving? why?' you bite your tongue, there's a dozen things you want to say and none of them are nice. if you stay, you'll cause a fight.

'because i'm mad at you and if i don't, we're gonna have a fight.' peter gives you puppy dog eyes, he's pre-apologizing and he doesn't know what for yet. they always soften you but when he turns away to check his screen, you harden right back up.

'i had no eyes, sorry, sorry. med pack, please.' you can only put up with so much and a game taking priority over your relationship was just a straw too much. 'you're about to have no girlfriend.'

peter hits mute real fast, tossing his headset off and standing up even quicker. he's looking at you like a deer in headlights, 'you said what?'

'i shouldn't have to threaten a break up for you to listen to me, peter.'

'i was listening! you were fine then all of a sudden you're stomping out of here and calling me single.' he’s not allowed to care when you get mad, he should've cared the last five times he said ten more minutes.

'i'm leaving.'

peter blocks the door, you cross your arms over your chest. 'talk to me.' you're being petty because it's the first time he's giving you attention since you've been here. it's nice to have him worry over you.

'no, i'm mad at you.'

'yeah, i picked up on that. wanna tell me why?' your eyes narrow, he can��t act cute when you're pissy. 'no.' peter gives you a pity smile but he's not sad at all. 'then i can't let you leave, sorry.'

'you think holding me captive will fix things?' there was a snap with your voice, peter takes a step away from the door. he was half and half with your tone but after that he feels the need to back down.

'you're actually mad at me.' peter doesn't like when you're upset with him, it makes him feel all itchy. 'you can leave, angel. if you think it'll help, you can leave. but i would really like it if you told me what was going on first.'

you and peter make communication a priority but this time you want to be childish. if he couldn't understand why you were mad, he obviously didn't respect your time. you wouldn't act like this if it was the first time, but it’s everytime you come over and he's already on his computer.

you're getting tired of begging for your boyfriend to choose you over a video game, especially after he told you to come over.

'no. i'm leaving and i want you to think about why i would be mad at you.' peter whines in return, he hates when you don't give him an answer. 'angel, please. this is punishment enough.'

the issue is how well you know him. he's going to pout and give you kisses while he tells you how sorry he is and he never meant to make you feel ignored. it always makes you forgive him too quick, you don't want him to apologize for it, you want him to acknowledge it.

'you're gonna try to excuse it and kiss it better and i don't want that. i want you to look me in the eye and tell me you've been shitty.' peter's already giving you that pouty look, you ignore the clench your heart gives when he pulls you closer by your hips.

'i'm still gonna kiss it better, i'll just tell you i'm shitty while i do it.' you don't gripe when he gives you a chaste kiss. you don't tell yourself you're going back on your word, just that he didn't give you one when you first got here.

'wanna tell me why i made you mad?' you love when peter talks to you like this. it's not a whisper, but it's low. it's almost guttural- a ring of sexual if you looked at it the right way. when he pairs it with two wet kisses to your cheek, you have to remind yourself to stay strong.

'your game.' you silently moan when peter pushes your back against his door, he drops a mark to your neck. 'mhm, what about my game?' you're not sliding a hand into his hair to egg him on, it's to support yourself, that's it.

'you were ignoring me again.'

peter's lips catch anywhere they can meet, you think you're about to start sweating. 'i hate begging for your attention, i don't want to do it anymore.' peter's kissing your sweet spot, you try to keep your focus.

'angel, no one has my attention more than you.' there's only so much you can fight and peter's pillowy kisses isn't one of them. you're not forgiving, you're just compartmentalizing. plus peter's the best damn kisser you've ever had.

‘until you’re on discord with your friends.’ you’re reminded of your anger, you push peter off and glare at him. ‘if i didn’t tell you i was leaving, would you have even noticed?’

'of course i would, i check on you every couple of minutes.' peter might suck at giving up a winning streak but he makes sure to put his eyes on you every two minutes.

'making sure i'm still here isn't the same as giving me attention. and dump me if i'm wrong, but i want a boyfriend who's a little obsessed with me.' peter kisses the middle of your throat, it spurs more frustration.

'if you wanted to fuck me, you should've done something about it an hour ago. you don't get to disrespect me then put your dick in me.' peter exhales over your skin, it feels like a laugh. you don't know why he thinks you're joking. he reads your mind before you can say it.

'angel, i'm not trying to seduce you. i'm trying to show you how obsessed you make me.' you give him your neck and he softly bites, just like that, the fight's over. 'go on... i'm listening.'

'i've been shitty.'

peter's kisses make sense, they've been on a subtle trail downwards. he sinks to his knees on the floor, hooking your leg around his shoulder and looking up at you. looking up with his angelolatry duties.

'and now i'm gonna kiss it better.' 

[salaimoi]

i wave goodbye to the end of beginning ˚. ✦.˳· ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader sypnosis: he wasn’t what you desired anymore, but he couldn’t let you go. months passed since your bitter breakup, and yet, he didn’t stop loving you for a second. cw: slow burn. angst for the sake of angst. falling out of love for no reason fr. unrequited love. alcohol consumption (gojo only) no happy ending me thinks, or maybe somewhat. who knows word count: 3.1k

author's notes: i’m mourning gojo and so should you! so here’s a piece of an angsty fic that’s been rotting, unfinished, in my drafts since march 29. i was only gonna post a sneak peek of this and suddenly the holy spirit took over me and drove me to finally finish it??? IF U EVER READ ANYTHING OF MINE PLEASE LET IT BE THIS😭😭i’m so in love with the reader crying scene u don’t get it. the metaphors?! i outdid myself. i am so terrified of the deep ocean, and the fact that i find myself writing about it during angsty hours says a lot about me. i can’t emphasize how much i adore this fic. i just love angst sm idkidkidk

also, this is my first time attempting angst for the sake of angst as well as slow burn (?) so idk if i’ll ever come back to this. not beta read.

Time and again, this mahogany dining table was the scene of numerous heartwarming interactions – mementos Satoru wouldn’t be able to replicate a second time, even if he spent a thousand lifetimes trying to do so. Sure, it was more than easy to recreate the scene, but not the genuine warmth the two of you felt in that moment. He could go to great lengths, such as hand-crafting every single piece of furniture in the room that bore witness – carving and polishing wood until his palms became more splinters than skin. But even then, he wouldn’t come close to reliving any of those gratifying sentiments from so long ago.

All the shared laughter at his trivial attempts at comedy had caught up to you; your smiles were forced lately, and he could tell. He possessed that diamond-blue, six-eyed gaze which consistently made you feel as if he could undeniably read your thoughts, but that wasn’t the case. Even a blind person could discern the unforeseen shift in your comportment toward him, and due to this, Satoru questioned himself relentlessly. 

What if he’d said something to offend you? What if he left the toilet seat up one too many times for your liking? What if he began snoring in bed but you were too considerate to say anything about it? What if he forgot a special date? What if he tried to offer you something you were allergic to? 

What if he stopped being the love of your life...? 

It seemed as if, in a fraction of a second, all the enjoyment you once felt had deserted you, and with it, your love for him. Had you forgotten how happy you were by his side all in the spawn of a few hours, or was this the universe’s twisted interpretation of a joke?

Even if it was, you weren’t laughing.

You told yourself it was fine, that it was a mere wave of sadness that would soon pass, but instead the harmless tide you paid no mind to had brutally swept your body into a sea of despair. Before you could process your predicament, the shoreline was well out of sight – blurring with the deep blue expanse of the oceanic abyss that enveloped your mind.

The longer you fought to stay afloat, the clearer the path became for the briny water to replace the oxygen in your lungs, giving you no choice but to drown as everything around you became a pitch-black, bottomless pit – devoid of any sense of worry for you. 

It was rather often that you were accused of abandoning the ship when things got bad, and yet, here you were – submerging along with it.  

How ironic.

Even he couldn’t save you now. The solace his mere presence bestowed upon you when you needed it most wasn’t there anymore. There was no more capability of initiating conversations with him when you were the only other person in the room, causing the once-upbeat and soothing environment to give way to one of silence and uncertainty; it was as thick as syrup.

Syrup. The sugary taste of it from when you consumed it during breakfast was all but replaced by a repugnant, sour one in your mouth. A persistent echo of those homemade fluffy pancakes you had turned down remained, even though he had made them just for you — his precious girl. 

You insisted you would eat later – an obvious white lie to mask your despondency and lack of appetite – but he spoon-fed you, because in his own words, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I allow my girlfriend to starve? No, that won’t do. I’ll take care of you even after I've exhaled my last breath.”

“And how would you do that if you’re no longer breathing, genius?” you asked, a wilting smile on your face that you had put on display for him. 

“Well, my dear," he retorts with a smug grin. "I've always believed that love has a way of transcending the boundaries of life and death. And as luck would have it, our love transcends the mortal realm. I will always be with you, in spirit if not in flesh.” he smiles, a twinkle of amusement behind his sapphire eyes before continuing.

“Once I've moved on to the afterlife, I'll find a way to send you sweet nothings and a box of chocolates from beyond the grave. Consider it an eternal gift.”

He declares in a complacent tone as he lounges back in his chair, head resting comfortably on the back of his hands. 

"But in all seriousness," he then adds, his tone becoming more genuine, "I'll do everything in my power to ensure you're taken care of – even if it means making sure my eternal resting place has a Wi-Fi connection for you to receive my messages.” 

Your thoughts were entirely silenced in that moment; white noise overtook the black space within your mind. How had he managed to say such heartfelt words as if they were second nature? This early in the morning, nonetheless.

Would he actually…?

You knew he would.

"But let’s not dwell on my demise just yet,” his words bring you back to the present conversation. “Until the day comes, I promise to make the most of our time together. Besides, knowing me, I’d probably haunt you just to ensure you have someone annoying to keep you company."

He finally remarked, going back to stuffing your face with the soggy pancakes that had been sitting in syrup for too long. 

And you were cognizant of the fact that you alone were privy to this side of Satoru Gojo: the mushy, gentle one who tended to his companion as if it were a god-given mandate. 

To the public, he was a stoic, impervious character who had no dread of others. To you, he was far more vulnerable than he would ever confess. 

But that wasn’t nearly enough to deter you from taking the disheartening decision made later that day.

“I can’t stay here anymore.” austere words you didn’t wish to speak, but needed to, in order to provide some semblance of closure for the both of you. “I can’t love you anymore.” 

A hushed supplication could be heard flying across the room at the speed of light once your hand reached out to turn the bitterly cold door knob, hitting against the back of your head – identical to an equally-cold shower.

“Please don’t leave me,” he immediately protested weakly. 

He approached you with cautious strides, every step causing fragmentation in his all-too-frail emotional state. Even if it was ephemeral, the mutual love between the two of you had already left a blazing watermark on his soul. His feelings for you transcended the nagging rationality that bound his mind, defying all sensible objections he had on the matter of permitting you to depart from his life. Having failed to quell the ardor her felt, it persisted apodictically until he was an arm’s length from your frame. 

And that was exactly it – the same frigid sensation your hand clinged onto emulated the one you felt in your wretched heart the moment he approached you. You’d already turned your back on him and expressed every afflicting anguish that tormented your soul, so why plead now? Now – when you already made the conscious decision to leave him behind. 

Tears neither you nor he could hold back began flowing down your features. A familiar hand lifted towards your cheek soon after, wiping the salty residue off your delicate face with his thumb. 

He never ceased to remind you how gorgeous you were when you cried, frankly because the manner in which your wispy eyelashes retained the saltine tears in your eyes resembled the delicate surface of a tranquil pond.

Every tear you shed would become the gentle water that tickled his skin as his body wafted about in your iris – an eternal reservoir he’d swim in without tiring if the heavens so permitted it.

However, this occasion differed from the rest; the once gentle waters he yearned to lay in became calamitous waves, which may lure him to the ocean’s most profound recesses in the blink of an eye – your blink of an eye. He would usually stay afloat among that innocent gaze of yours, but tonight it was ruthlessly drowning him with no lifeline in sight. 

Even after he implored that your crying would come to a halt, more pungent teardrops bled onto his fingers. An eroding desperation flowed through you, aching to hold onto something, anything, in order to cease the mental decay within your subconscious.

Thus, your own hand extended to hold his against your cheek, a glacial embrace overpowering the warmth of his skin; an identical chill tickled his spine when he absorbed the crispness of your graze, but he paid it no mind.

“Not you too…anyone but you,” he pleaded in a low voice, causing more accursed tears of yours to cascade mercilessly as he embraced you in an endeavor to sway your decision. His voice was gentle and soothing, mimicking a caress you’d never experience a second time. 

“I’m sorry.” you muttered.

Being unable to bring yourself to meet the sapphire eyes that imitated a midwinter sky so perfectly, your head lay low; the only thing visible to him was the top of it. 

It was unclear what you were sorry about. Perhaps you were sorry that you had to leave him behind. Or perhaps you were apologizing to yourself that he was no longer what you thought you wanted with every fiber in your body.

You desired more in this life, and on your game board, he wasn’t a playing piece who could frolic alongside you. It wasn’t because you didn’t fancy his company, rather it was the fact that his own strategy of playing was one that did not catch your eye anymore; it had become a monotonous rehearsal. Every move came to be a discernible one to you – even before he picked up his pawn, causing you to lose interest in the entire game itself.

That realization alone shattered his entire world.

Satoru’s head lay low all throughout as he sat on a wooden stool amidst the empty bar. It was 2 a.m. and he needed to go home, but why should he?

You wouldn’t be there to greet him – or even scold him for that matter. 

Colorless, almost lifeless, marbles stared vacantly at the picture of you on his lock screen; he consistently spoke to your picture as if he were having a conversation with it. At this point in time, it had become routine. Maybe one of these days the frozen-in-time frame would speak back to him for once?

Just once.

Where had that tender smile he’d fallen in love with gone?

Where had you gone?

On a nightly basis, the same detestable conversation from that night redounded from one end of Satoru’s mind to the other incessantly – akin to a religiously recited sermon. 

It was impractical to disregard the harsh reality that sooner or later every cherished individual he held dear to his heart willingly departed from his life – Suguru, and now you. 

If it entailed becoming a regular person, he’d give his life as a sorcerer to ensure the permanent presence of at least one individual in his life. Where was the value of possessing such prowess when one’s vulnerability in the realm of love was inescapable? 

What twisted transaction was that?

He'd even willingly forsake his divinely bestowed talents for the purpose of altering the passage of time, thereby reverting to a period where your presence was far from being nothing more than a diminishing recollection. 

Ijichi had been dealing with this side of his boss for months on end. Regardless of his efforts to encourage Gojo to put an end to this melancholic act of his, he never managed to convince him to do so. Ijichi attempted the compassionate approach, but to no avail. His optimism and patience were dwindling, fearing that this would continue on for eternity – and perhaps it would’ve if he hadn’t stepped in.

This had to end sooner or later, and for everyone involved’s sake, it had to be the former. So tonight, he opted for a sterner, and perhaps more unforgiving, path.

Your car was parked out front of the bar Ijichi had sent you the address to – forehead pressed against the steering wheel as an audible, exhausted sigh escaped your mouth. It was late and you knew this was nothing short of inane behavior. You weren’t doing this for you; you had to remind yourself that you were doing it for him, with the hope that he would ultimately find someone who would be there for him in a way that you were unable to. 

Weary, almost weak, legs lead you to enter the desolate bar. A knife prods at your chest when your eyes dart over to where Gojo was. He kept his head lowered; the only part of him you could clearly see from this angle was his back.

An overwhelming sea of emotions plagued your mind when you witnessed him in such a state. You could feel the knives twist the longer you stared at the back of his fluffy white locks. 

Months had passed since your split, and you realized Satoru’s grief and distress were indeed as dire as his assistant conveyed to you during the phone conversation. 

A tap on his shoulder was accompanied by a sweet voice that had vanished into the depths of his consciousness a long time ago. Perhaps because he didn't wish to recall the agonizing memories that came with your voice, or perhaps because he needed to maintain a pristine, untouched image of you in his psyche.

As you occupy a vacant stool one seat away from him, your attention is drawn to the half empty vodka bottle in his grasp. 

“You know, I talked to your therapist. He said you were getting sober.” 

What you said held true, except you didn’t hear it from his therapist directly; Ijichi was the one who was initially informed about that, and being the caring person he was, he relayed the details to you. Mostly because he felt as if, deep down, you still wanted to know about Gojo’s well-being.

"What are you doing here drowning yourself in alcohol?" you added, seemingly concerned for your ex-boyfriend.

He looked up at you, his eyes red and bleary from the drink. His body froze. Blue pupils dilated in a mixture of shock and happiness. It really was you. Had you come back for him after all this time? 

"What does it look like I’m doing?" he muttered, his voice bitter and angry.

Satoru detested alcohol; it always interfered with his abilities, and being the strongest meant being ready whenever – no questions asked.  After your departure, though, he grew fond of the bitter, burning feeling the liquid provided. That sweet poison was the sole substance capable of muffling the eternal pessimism plaguing his mind.

You approached him cautiously, taking the bottle from his hands and setting it aside. "Come on," you said firmly, "we need to get you home."

He wasted no time to speak what was really on his mind. Even if it was for a mere second, he had felt the sensation of your touch once more. That was more than he needed to vocalize the thoughts that tormented his sanity. Either that, or it was the alcohol he had consumed speaking. 

“Why won’t you love me back?” His words slurred, being far too drunk to care, though. 

“…You’re drunk, let’s get you home.”

“What home? The one I bought for us that YOU left me all alone in?” he deadpans, the silence following being as deafening as a scream.

Ouch. 

“My room feels so empty if you’re not there. I see your precious face and I don't know what to do.” His expression dampens with anguish before he continues – somewhat unclearly, ”whatever I do, I cam’t fubking get you out of my head amd it’s ruining me.” 

“I told you to move on a million times every time you drunk dialed me, Satoru.” 

“If that’s what you wanted, why did you continue to pick up the call?” He retaliates, eyes glazed with forbidden tears on the verge of cascading against his pale skin.

You knew perfectly well why. He knew perfectly well why. Everyone Satoru vented to about you knew why, so why continue to deny it? 

Attempting to keep your temper in check, you take a deep breath, eyes darting back and forth between the door and him. It was more than easy to run away from your problems, like you always did. But not this time.

You owed it to him to at least finally stick around long enough when things got tough. You wouldn’t put up an invisible wall between the two of you anymore, not today. 

You sigh, taking the empty seat right next to him. 

“We can’t go back to how things were. We broke up, remember?” 

“I know,” he grumbles, taking a sip of his beverage. He shook his head, his drunken state making it almost impossible to focus his thoughts or his vision. “But maybe drinking will make me forget that we ever did. Maybe tonight I can pretend we’re still together,” his voice and face etched with sorrow.

His voice trailed off, followed by another long sip of his drink. 

“You need to quit drinking yourself into a stupor, Satoru. This isn’t healthy,” you responded, voice softening out of concern. 

His eyes still clouded with alcohol, he looks at you before speaking. “I don’t know how to move on.” He admitted, voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to live without you. I loved you…and I still do.”

He silently weeps once and for all, crumbling before the love of his life. You didn’t know what else to say, so you settled on simply allowing his head to rest on your shoulder; you always were his favorite shoulder to cry on, after all. Wrapping an arm around him, you pet his head as you lull him. Instinctively, he envelops you into a warm embrace, face burying itself deeper into your chest. 

As he continued to sob like a baby, the sorcerer allowed his emotions to flow freely – months of bottling them up into liquor bottles had finally caught up to him. 

He was beyond ecstatic underneath all the melancholy; not only had you allowed him to get closer to you, but even went as far as hugging him too. He couldn't believe it. Just a few moments ago, you were talking about forcing him to move on, but now – you were actually back in his arms, where you belonged.

He felt relieved for a moment, almost to the point where he wasn't thinking properly anymore. You were finally back in his arms, where you needed to be; he refused to let go.

It felt like a fever dream, but this was all he needed. Even if you’re gone, morning come, he’ll live in this moment for the rest of eternity. 

[rowretro]

𝕭𝖚𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖑𝖞 𝕶𝖎𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖘

✧warnings: Yandere/toxic themes, kidnapping, explicit stuff mentioned (this isnt my best writting im so sorry its been saur long, im working thru the reqs too<3 my drafts are filled w sm so stay tuned!!!)

❁synopsis: Sunghoon is feared by all, his name was enough to reinforce that fear, for he had grown to be a much more fearful mafia than his father, though one with morals, he never let women in his life, and he barely trusted anyone... until he saw a butterfly.

✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧

Sunghoon stepped out of his limo, suitcase loaded with cash. He was filthy rich, and he couldn't deny it, so seeing him give a suitcase of month everytime the orphanage needed money, he was happy to help. His face always had a cold look, but the children all loved him, they were only safe, and loved in a caring foster home just because of him.

The man got into his vehcile, sitting in the driver's seat as Jungwon stared at him. "I still dont understand why you don't hire a driver for yourself bro-" Jungwon simply asked as Sunghoon raised an eyebrow "The rest of you boys cant be trusted driving under stressful situations so you have one, I just dont need one." he simply said as he started his car. The man started driving, when his car came to a sudden halt.

There before him, a pretty girl "Bro- u almost hit that hottie-" Jungwon pointed out as Sunhgoon didnt even bother turning his way, his eyes glued on the girl who apologized, before gettign distracted again, chasing after the blue morpho butterfly. "Crazy bitch- fuck she scared me-" Jungwon mumbled as Sunghoon continued staring at the girl, lovestruck, the way she raised her hand, and let the butterfly sit on her finger, as she kissed near it.

"Jungwon. I want to know every little detail about that girl. where she studies, where she lives, what she likes, what she hates, everything." He stated as Jungwon frowned, yet complied. She was very pretty, her layered dark hair, her perfectly winged eyeliner, the way she walked freely like she didn't give a care in the world. Not to mention, she definitely had style. For the first time he fell in love. So he will have her fall for him.

It didn't take Jungwon too long, as soon as he got home, he printed out the necessary files "Her name is y/n, she lives with the Lee's, yes She's Lee Heeseung's sister. Her father owns many schools, and she studies in the one Heeseung teaches in, to be fair, you're going to have to get on Heeseung's good side if you want her, because they're looking to arrange a marriage for her." Jungwon concluded as Sunghoon smiled.

It was all so easy for him. She was just within reach. "What brings you here Sunghoon?" Heeseung asked as the male looked around the School grounds. "Oh? well uhm.... uhh... just looking for a potential threat in this college- He's hiding from me..." he lied as Heeseung nodded. "In that case keep an eye on my sister-" Heeseung replied as he pat his shoulder, and walked off to a group of loud students.

His eyes finally found her, a butterfly sitting on her cheek, and she didn't even flinch, still writting notes in her book. He took a seat in front of her, causing the butterfly to fly away. The girl looked up, tilting her head at him. "Mr Park! what brings you here.... you aren't going to kill me are you?..." She asked as Sunghoon snickerred "Of course not.... what could possibly lead me to hurting a sweetheart like you?" He asked, his hand softly holding her jaw, as he ran his thumb across her lips and cheek.

It's no surprise she knew who he was, he was the Park Sunghoon, everyone knows him. God her lips are so perfect, he was so soft, making sure not to smudge her makeup or hurt her. However y/n felt a little uncomfortable... She softly pulled away. She can't deny it, he's fucking gorgeous, fighting her intrusive thoughts of rubbing her thumb across his brows.

"I wanted to see how my pretty girl is doing. My pretty girl..." he smiled, as he placed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Im installing a butterfly greenhouse in my garden just for you, Heeseung said you love flowers, I have a whole garden filled with jasmines, roses, lotuses and many other flowers you name it..." Sunghoon continued. It was all moving so fast, was this her fiancee her parents picked for her? why's he moving so fast? why him? is this a trap to kill her?

It was none of which... The Lee father fears Sunghoon, and Heeseung is like a brother to Sunghoon, after all the man did abuse Heeseung and y/n growing up, so when Sunghoon asked to marry her, Of course her parents wer happy with it, Mrs Lee believed he was a sweetheart. Heeseung wasn't too happy at first, but he wasn't a typical mafia boss, playboy with prostitutes every night, how bad could it possibly be.

"Uhm..... huh?" Y/n asked, not knowing what to say or ask. "You're parents are ok with me marrying you so, instead of circling around, im giving it to you straight." Sunghoon simply said "All you need to do is pack your belongings when you get home, you're moving in with me, your room will be right opposite mine, and we can talk about what you want in this marriage ok?" He asked as Y/n stared, stunned.

She was never told anything.... Why is everything going so fast? She was being married off to a blood thirsty beastly man who kills for a living?! As Sunghoon left, she sat there lost in thought. So she really was his?.......

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[777sturn]

⟢ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 | 𝐦att 𝐬turniolo

kinda suggestive.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ jules’ message. this was so fun to write i love matt sm ALSO this has been marinating in my drafts for WEEKS and i literally forgot to post it oops!

quality time:

bf!matt who is a sucker for quality time. he’s simple: he enjoys the late night car rides with you as well as staying in to watch movies. of course, on special days (valentines, birthdays, etc) he will treat you out and take you to a fancy restaurant and a nice hotel for the weekend.

physical touch:

bf!matt who is a cuddler by heart. he enjoys laying his head on your lap or you sitting on his lap and holding you close. he looovessss running his fingers through your hair and pressing soft kisses all over your face. he is handsy when you guys make out or have sex, his hands will be trailing everywhere: tracing your figure slowly, all the way to your thighs, and then back to your waist.

acts of service:

bf!matt who is literally willing to drop anything to help you. despite his video game addiction, he will pause it and comfort you if you need anything. if he knows you’re coming over, he already went to the store beforehand to buy snacks for the two of you and went to your favorite place to eat and bought you lunch. if he sees you about to stand up and wash the dishes or clean up, he will do it himself. he also does things without being asked since he enjoys seeing you relaxed and smiling.

words of affirmation:

bf!matt who LOVES showering you with compliments and telling you how much he’s proud of you. it could be at the most random times and he will let a, “you’re so perfect” or a, “im so proud of you today” out. he’s always reassuring you if you feel stressed and is by your side to comfort you. when you guys have sex, there’s never a time where he doesnt compliment how well your doing. when you’re close, he’s reminding you how pretty you look when you cum.

gift giving:

bf!matt who loves to spoil you. he’s the type of person to buy you bouquets every two weeks and replace them if they die. if you mention something you wanted, he will buy it for you. he is also a big crafty homemade card guy. so for every valentine’s day, birthday, or your guys’ anniversary, expect a cute card that was made with lots of love.

© 777sturn

[the-bjd-community-confess]

CW: body types mention

The reason I will probably never buy a fat doll is the clothes. Almost nothing is made for them, and pretty much nothing that I like. A few items like loose skirts can be wrangled into fitting, but that'll be hit or miss. I would have to redo my entire clothing collection. There's no patterns, no company outfits, no freelance seamstresses, nothing. I am totally on my own to draft and sew everything except for shoes. I would assume the shoes stay in the standard sizes, besides maybe high boots. Then the doll will fade into obscurity and finding any other owners/information to know what works will be difficult.

As much as I'm not a fan of DC, the pear sm@rt dolls did that very well. There's a good variety of clothes and free patterns instantly available from the company, and DC highlights some of the other shops. 

~Anonymous

[causenessus]

more than anything else. | akaashi k.

I LOST THE REQUEST BC I TRIED TO SAVE YOUR ASK AS A DRAFT I'M SO SORRY ANON </3 (i just wanted to do a fancy title color </3333 which thank u wyr for teaching me how!! i finally did it!!) they asked for a drabble with akaashi about a reader struggling in med school who isn't doing as well as she wants to but tries to keep it hidden but ends up breaking down in front of akaashi </3 i hope that's an acceptable synopsis of ur amazing idea anon </3 thank you sm for your request i loved writing this!!

akaashi x f!reader

written in 3rd pov

dialogue prompt from 1k followers event: ❤️‍🩹 -> "you deserve more"

"but still i'm alone, and that's what scares me the most. forgetting myself, forgetting what i said i would be." from clown car by lowertown

word count: 1.9k words

lots of hurt/comfort </33 akaashi and y/n are already in an established relationship

thank u to my very cool sister in med school whose experiences very heavily influenced this entire story which might very well be me tomorrow when i get my college test scores xx

NOT edited esp after i lost my draft the first time. tumblr, i have words to speak to u. the tumblr hq complaint list ree and me have formed gets longer everyday.

tokyo’s medical school program had been no joke. for as long as she could remember, she had wanted to be a nurse. she'd dreamed of it for so long that even when she didn’t initially pass the entry exam, she kept trying. it took her four times to finally get accepted. keiji had told her she was resilient, and their low acceptance rate was nothing she could control.

he was right, but she couldn’t help feeling worn down a little. she had known people who’d passed the exam on their first try, yet all her work up until that fourth retake hadn’t been enough. although they were in completely different majors, she subconsciously compared herself to keiji, as well. it made her sick to think that she was being left behind. while he had already finished his first year of university, she’d spent the twelve months completing prerequisites and working in a hospital, unable to do anything else.

she knew she couldn’t give up after coming so far, but things didn’t get easier once she made it into the program. keiji had already been busy enough with his own school work, but with the both of them trying to balance their classes, they didn’t find much time to do things outside of studying together. their daily routine became one of them buying coffee and meeting up at the library, staying there until it closed, and then walking home to collapse in bed together, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

the familiarity of their schedule was a stable anchor in both of their lives; neither of them minded daily study dates. it had always been this way since they met–being together was enough for both of them, they didn't need anything fancy. they showed their love for each other through looks from behind a computer screen and cold coffees with extra shots.

yet despite how hard she studied, she couldn’t help but feel like she was falling behind her peers. some of her classes she had passed by the skin of her teeth and when she compared that to her outstanding grades throughout all of high school, seeing even a B was enough to make her heart drop. even worse were C’s and D’s. although a part of her was just thankful to have passed all of her classes, she wanted to do better. she knew plenty of classmates who were struggling just as much as her–these classes weren’t meant to be easy, but when she continued to do worse than she wanted to, that didn’t stop her from feeling like a failure.

it was affecting her entire being; how confident she felt in her competency as a person and how much she was even contributing to the world. was it even worth it for her to continue studying medicine? was she worth all the money her friends and family had spent on her? worth the love keiji gave her? what if he found someone better?

one particular night in the library, her worries had overwhelmed her to the point of tears, and keiji had paused what he was doing to help her.

“i’m sorry, i'm distracting you from your work,” she had cried, trying to stop her tears, “you don’t have to help me or anything, i’m okay.”

“i’m not going to ignore you when you're crying, y/n,” he had said, voice filled with nothing but care and worry. “tell me what’s wrong,” he urged, moving around the table to sit next to her.

she’d explained her anxieties to him briefly that night, but she never wanted to inconvenience him again. even when she felt like she was drowning in her stress, she made sure to keep up a front around him. she could never erase the thought of how much better he deserved, despite his continued reassurance that there was no one better fit for him than her. 

their study dates had returned back to normal after that night. frequent trips to a coffee shop for another coffee resumed, and their stolen glances across the tables continued. she was currently working on a large presentation–an insurance project that would boost her grade if she was able to score at least an 80 on her upcoming final.

she felt good about the material; the project helped her study the chapters on top of the cramming she was already doing. her test scores in the class had averaged around somewhere in the 80s anyway and she felt confident she’d end the class with a good grade. keiji had reminded her of bokuto, who had barely gotten by in his high school classes, yet still graduated and made it out to be a talented volleyball player. although it was a completely different field from her, thinking about bokuto had helped her worry less about perfect grades. she wasn’t content with bare minimum grades that meant she was only just barely passing, but she’d been reminded that As weren't the standard and plenty of people had had successful careers despite struggling with school.

but perhaps she had got her hopes up too high, and everything seemed to fall apart when the notification popped up on her screen. 

not even an 80.

when keiji got home, the lights were off. his mentor at his internship had asked him to stay late and help with their current big project. it was a good opportunity and chance for experience, and he had texted her that he wouldn’t be coming home until later that day in order to keep working. she'd replied, telling him to be safe but had said nothing about a night shift at the hospital; she should've been home.

when he called for her, he didn’t get a response, and he was quick to put away his shoes before making his way to their bedroom. he didn’t think she’d be sleeping so early into the night, but perhaps she’d had a rough day.

then he remembered that her test score for her final exam was supposed to come out today.

the light pattering of rain on their roof was almost loud enough to mask the sniffle he heard, but the moonlight peaking through the curtain of their window illuminated her silhouette.

she was curled up on the wooden floor of their bedroom, leaning against the bed, and when he came around the side of the bed, he saw her tear-stained face, looking forward blankly.

“oh, my love—” his heart twisted at the sight of her, his chest tightening with nausea and guilt thinking about how he’d left her alone on the night she’d needed him the most. “did it not go well?” he asked softly, kneeling next to her with a hand on her back.

at the mention of the test, she choked out a sob as she shook her head and tried to hide her face, “no. i failed it, keiji. i failed the entire class.” through the hand on her back, he could feel the way her body was shaking as she tried to keep in her cries.

“let it out, love,” he whispered, encasing her in his arms and squeezing his own eyes shut. his heart hurt for her, imagining the pain she was going through. he heard it in the hiccups and whimpers that escaped her. she’d probably been here all night, and the thought only made him hug her all the more tightly. “they won’t kick you out of the program, right?” he asked.

“no, i get one strike. i’ll have to retake the class, but if i fail another one—” she didn’t finish, only letting out a shaky breath but he understood and he pulled away to hold her face, brushing away the tears that fell from her eyes with his thumbs.

“then it’ll be okay,” he tried to reassure her, “you have a second chance, and you’re going to do great. plenty of other people have failed, too. it’ll be okay. you’ll be okay, and i’ll be here to help you with whatever you need.”

she placed a hand over one of his own that was still on the side of her face, trying her best to calm her breathing down. “keiji,” she whispered, her lips trembling as she tried to hold back another sob that escaped her anyway.

“yes, dear?” he answered, trying to comfort her with a small smile, letting her know he was there and listening.

“why are you even with me?” her voice broke, as if it physically pained her to even say it. her hand dropped back down to the ground as her tears started falling again. “you deserve more. you deserve someone smarter. and better. i can’t even pass my class, what made me think i could do this? i wasn’t resilient for retaking the entrance exam, i was just being stubborn. i should never have been let in. i don’t deserve to be here.” she pressed her palms into her eyes, letting out ragged breaths that turned back into sobs when she pull herself back together.

her words hurt him even more than it hurt her to say. it pained him to hear how lowly she thought of herself when he thought she was the most admirable person he’d ever seen. he could tell the thoughts had been weighing heavily down on her for long–this was the result of pent up emotions she’d been stuffing down ever since that night she cried in the library. he knew that she hadn’t told him everything, but he had trusted that she would open up to him when she was ready.

he moved to grab hold of her hands, gently pulling them away from her face, “i’m with you because of your passion for this career, y/n.” he feels the way her hands start to relax in his hold and keeps going, “just because a test is difficult doesn’t mean you’re not right for this job, y/n. if you enjoy it and you’re passionate about it, that’s all that matters. the rest will come with time. and i know you’re passionate about this. i’ve seen how you treat others, you have so much kindness in your heart. you want to help others and that’s enough. a grade doesn’t define you or your future. i’m with you because you’re so much more than just a grade. i’m with you because i love you, i love your dreams, i’ve loved watching you work towards them, and i’ll be here to continue supporting you every step of the way.”

his words seem to get through to her and her tears start to dry, “do you really mean it?” her voice is just barely above a whisper.

“every single word, love. i love you more than i can put into words and i think everything about you is beautiful. your passion and spirit and the way you carry yourself. i'm the one who doesn't deserve you, i look up to you so much," he tells her, shifting to sit against the bed next to her.

she laughs, pushing at him playfully, “don’t start turning this around to criticize yourself. here, how about we make a deal: if i deserve you, then you deserve me.”

“deal,” he agrees, grabbing her hand to hold it between his, rubbing it gently, “as long as i get to be with you for the rest of my life.”

she sighs, looking up towards the ceiling, “if that’s what you want.”

“it is,” he tells her, turning her head gently to face him as he presses a kiss to her lips, “i want you more than anything else.”

[en-geneisaxx]

𝐴 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑦𝑒𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑣𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑝. 𝑂ℎ, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑛: ℎ𝑖𝑠.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐘/𝐧

Warnings/content: Death, mentions of killing, stabbing, abuse, angst (not sure if I did this successfully but oh well), yandere behaviour (m), high school au, fluff, stalking (through camera), threatening, mdni, lmk if I missed anything!

A/n: HEY HEY HEY! Came back from the dead after writing 8 drafts for this one fic (gonna make it two long fics bc hopefully starting a fresh clean draft will help me out for once). I hope you guys enjoy and feedback is always welcome!

PLEASE, 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆, 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃/𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐄. (This acc applies to every author out here, especially if we spend sm time on writing these). The lack of sleep I had just to make this decent is concerning. We, writers, work hard on our fics, so we wish that it spreads to many audiences as possible

Once again, if you ever read, I hope you enjoy!

Part 1

To start off high school, which school will you be attending? Turns out it’s your brother’s school:

Karasuno High.

September has started, and it’s your first day of High School. You walked together with your older brother, Daichi, who’s going to leave once it’s your second year. You felt quite disappointed, for you liked hanging out with your brother. For many, that’s a special case, because there’s always the stereotypes of siblings on bad terms with each other. However, being brought up in a strict environment, you found comfort in each other. Simply put, the two of you depended on each other, and it was mutual. 

Being in such an environment has taken a toll on your mental health and personality. At first, your parents were so kind to you, bringing you up like a normal child. But, once your tutoring started at the age of four, they gave you the harsh treatment. It was cruel, because you were only young, yet they threatened to disown you, just for not doing the day’s worksheets. They made you cry, hit you, abused you, changing you from a bubbly E to a “depressed” I. Yes, people had made fun of you as you got older, calling you “depressed” or “emo”. It was normally based on your attitude, the colours you wore the most, how you presented yourself. Tired of trying to prove your classmates wrong, you decided to play along to their judgements. You know the saying, ‘You are what you pretend to be’? Turns out, that was true, and you had problems changing it. 

When you’re alone, talking to yourself, you’re so chatty and energetic. You make yourself as the life of the party, cheering up all these imaginary people that live inside your head. That was the consequence of being delusional. You did know it was fake, yet when else could you act so happy? It was what kept you going in hard times, so you decided to cling onto your dreams for a little longer. 

Though, the extra education has certainly helped you in your studies and grades. From the start onwards, you were well-known for your brilliant mind and excellent grades. People had the impression that you were smart, and had always thought luck was on their side when you made your appearance to their team. You enjoyed that, the feeling of being admired and respected. That was the motivation to keep your grades top-notch, to stay as the model student. You wouldn’t dare stain your shining reputation. Sick? Doesn’t matter, you’ll miss out on your lessons, and you’ll miss 20% percent of your attendance. Being behind anyone annoys you, or more like scares you, because you know your parents are going to be asking questions on why you weren’t top of the class. It’s frustrating, because you give your all in lessons anyways. 

So, having an opportunity to be with your brother more elated you, easing your nerves of attending this new school, a new chapter in your life. You still felt nervous, the social anxiety getting to you, but hopefully there’ll be people you could get along with, right? Despite all the names, people still liked talking to you, interacting with you like a normal person. You’re surprised how you managed to fit in, because you were quite behind in terms of trends and other popular things due to your parents restricting the apps on your phone. Remembering that you weren’t an outcast, you continued walking to your school with your brother with slight confidence. The scenery was making you forget about those kinds of situations anyway, for the breathtaking autumn leaves caught your eye. The vivid colours of orange, yellow and green made you feel calm and relaxed, enjoying the joyful splatters of paint that swirled across the blue canvas you were portrayed in. The sunshine added to the beauty, making things look so much more aesthetic. 

It was just a normal school building, but knowing that this is a new start excited you. New school, new classmates, and possibly new friends. You happily strided through the school, forgetting that you needed to find your classroom. Luckily, helping you was one of Daichi’s priorities, and he pulled you by the collar before dragging you to the correct corridor. You noticed that the people on your floor weren’t that tall, until you saw a big, blue-haired giant with an orange shrimp. The contrast intimidates you, and you almost quickly shake it off.

Almost.

You, from the corner of your eye as you watched the pair argue past you, saw Daichi looking at them for a second too long. That sparked the curiosity in you, lips parting to ask a question, but that couldn’t even be asked because you, now, have reached the door of your class. Daichi checks the time, and his rushed manner gives you the impression that he had somewhere to be. He sighs, placing his hands on your shoulder, “Y/n, I know you’ll do just fine. But, if you need me, I’m on the third floor, the last classroom in the corridor. I got to go now, class is going to start. I’ll meet you after school at the gym. Good luck!” He says before fast walking through the corridor. You look at your class, First day, gotta do well. You were relieved when no one seemed to pay attention to your entrance, busy talking to one another. You scanned the room, looking for a decent empty seat and-

HANG ON, THE SEAT IN THE BACK CORNER NEXT TO THE WINDOW IS EMPTY!? You thought the people were crazy for letting such a seat be vacant. Nevertheless, you claimed the area as yours, setting out your equipment before looking outside, waiting for your teacher to come.

“Hi, um…” An unknown voice reaches out to you. You hum in acknowledgement of his presence, focusing on finishing the last bits of your notes. But honestly, if only you looked at the owner, would you have focused your attention on something so much better, so much worthwhile. He notices this, and smiles, sitting in the chair from the desk ahead, letting you finish. He knows how important studying is, being studious himself. 

You continued for a minute or so, stretching your body before tidying up. You had almost forgotten the extra person, who was so damn quiet.

“I assume you’re done, Miss Sawamura?”

Finally, you snap your head at the man, and never did you think you would lay your eyes on someone so perfect. He was a beautiful mix of cute and sexy, and his voice went straight to your clothed womanhood. Not to mention that mole next the left side of his warm brown eyes, and his fluffy silver hair. His body was incredible, sneaking a glance at the unbuttoned area of his white shirt. He was everything you could’ve asked for.

“I love you.” You sighed dreamily, catching the boy off-guard.

“H-Huh, can you repeat that?” He acts innocently, knowing damn well what he heard. 

“I-I said, ‘Yeah, I am.’” What a pathetic lie you thought I couldn’t even act it out properly… “But, anyways, why do you ask?” 

“Oh, Daichi asked me to collect you. He’s busy with the team right now.” He answers. “By the way, I’m Koushi Sugawara. I’m the vice-captain of Karasuno, the official setter andddd your brother’s best friend!” He says proudly, boasting about all his achievements. He laughs when he sees your gleaming eyes, your figure that’s amazed by how blessed he is. “C’mon, let’s go to the gym, and there we can see Daichi.”

“HUH?!” Shouts a very offended and confused Sugawara, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M NOT THE OFFICIAL SETTER ANYMORE?”.

Daichi sighs, tired by repeating the same thing, “Suga, the first-year setter is really talented. Though you have experience, he’s just…” He thinks of the right word, wary of Sugawara’s furious glare. Instead, he just leaves it like that, unfinished.

“What about me being vice-captain?” He asks agitatedly, hoping he’ll agree to that since Sugawara’s a role model after all.

“Suga, you’re almost on the same level as crazy as Nishinoya and Tanaka…” 

“I’M SMART THOUGH, AND I ALWAYS BEHAVE WELL!” He reasons, hands flying about in the air.

“What you’re doing right now says otherwise. And plus, Ennoshita is a good choice too. He could actually be the vice-captain instead.” Daichi crushes Sugawara’s heart, stretching his body, unbothered by the silver boy’s sad look. 

“The best friend’s bit is true…right?” The poor boy mumbles, but loud and clear enough to hear. 

“I dunno.” Your brother jokes, but Sugawara took it personally. He starts being emotional, moody and hurtful to others. You thought it would be too early to do physical contact with this angel, but you couldn’t help it. 

You wrap your hands around him, head on his shoulder, the two of you rocking gently as you both clung to each other. First time meeting, and already you two are acting like a loving couple. You gently pat his back as he finds purchase in the crook of your neck. The whole gym is quiet, everybody is too busy watching the scene that’s taking place before their eyes. 

“Suga, you can be my best friend. My sweet Sugar…” 

His ears perk up at this, a pink blush colouring his soft cheeks. He found this cute, he found you cute, and he was touched by your actions towards him. He nods his head, which is still buried in your neck, flaming hot as a result of his blushing, and hugs your waist even tighter. 

“Thank you, Angel.”

“HEY, Y/N!” Nishinoya, the grade school-looking kid, who turns out to be a year older than you, shouts, running to you, “WHAT WAS THAT, ABOUT EARLIER?!”

Tanaka chimes in too in agreement, “YEAH, YOU MADE US FEEL LIKE THE SINGLE ASSES WE ARE.” 

They reenact the scene -horribly- as you stood there, awkwardly watching a summary of what had happened just a few hours ago. You thought it was yesterday, for it was a midnight blue sky instead of the ombre of oranges, pinks and blues with the blazing sphere raised in the air. You circle around a nearby lamppost, distancing yourself from the herd of animals as you wait for your dearest brother to come. Checking your phone, you stare at it blankly, unsure of what to do due to boredom. Randomly, you click on the calendar app, suddenly being reminded of Suga’s birthday. 

“Y/n!” Sugawara calls, waving his hand in the slightly cold night air. He wore a blue scarf and a black jacket, nose, cheeks and ears having a dash of pink. When he got closer to you, he enveloped you into his arms, pissing off Daichi. 

“Ugh, enough with this ‘couple’ activity, let’s go home…” Daichi groans out.

Home. Gosh, with how perfect the day was did you forget that your parents existed. Did you forget you can’t have a boyfriend? Crushes were allowed, but not boyfriends. Your mother clearly stated you can only have a boyfriend when you’ve finished your studies. Man, and you decided to take uni, so it’ll take until after 20 years or so…

As you two linked arms under the gentle light of the mysterious moon, you continued to dread what would happen if you and Suga really got together. Because, right now, it’s more like Suga’s doing this as your best friend. 

Hah, there’s no way he’ll like me, right?

Is this first love at sight?

When Sugawara first saw you, it was when you were on the stands, little you cheering your brother and his team. As Sugawara made his way to serve, a wave of panic crashed into him, losing his self-composure and staring ahead to the many people who eyed him, including you. Luckily, you managed to save him right before the referee blew the whistle for him to start:

“Sugawara-san!” You shouted, “Don’t feel scared, everyone on your side of your court is your teammates, and teammates help each other, not hate each other!” 

Maybe it was at that moment did Sugawara want to stay by your side. He suddenly saw you in a different light now; just you two in a light, before an opening was seen by him. 

Wait, did she just let me see the best place to serve?

As the whistle blew, Sugawara looked at you and the spot one last time, before closing his eyes and hitting the ball. He didn’t know which team got a point, for everyone was shouting. But, when he heard your voice, you became crystal clear.

“Way to go, Koushi!!” You giggle happily, clapping your hands in such a joyful manner. He was so happy you were there, but he wished you could’ve come to more games. 

Hang on, can I make her come to more games?

He tries to think of a plan, before he realised it would be incredibly simplistic, now that Daichi told him an important piece of information.

“Haha, Suga! You know the girl that cheered you on? That was my sister, Y/n.” 

He laughed internally for how things were going the way he liked it. If you were his sister, then he could see you more by using Daichi as an excuse. Oh, and the two boys were going to the same school: Karasuno. Knowing all this, he knew he just had to wait…just a little longer.

And now that time has come. He knew that you probably forgot him, because it was quite some time ago. However, now he’ll take every opportunity he can to spend time with you, whether it be through hanging out with you at break, giving you lunch boxes at lunch, or bringing you to the gym. Anything with you will satiate his hunger for you.

Simply put, he liked you – too much.

“Hey, we need to talk.” States the elder, sitting on your bed as you spun in your chair. He had a serious look on his face, causing you to straighten your back and look at him. He deeply exhales, “Whatever you’re doing with Suga, stop it. I won’t hesitate to tell our parents.” 

That alone made you livid. You burned with such anger, so much it broke the scales. He’s even threatening you? The fuck? You sometimes had thought lowly of your brother, especially when you were fazed by wrath, but never did you expect him to be such a dick. 

“How fucking dare you.” You cursed through gritted teeth, your self-control on the edge of disaster. Your knuckles turned pale-white, eyes darkened with fury as you stared at the bastard. “You know damn well how bad my life is, yet you won’t bother helping me when I see the light?” 

“That light’s not supposed to be Sugawara’s – in our parents’ eyes, I mean.” 

“So what, you gonna act all good and treat me like shit too?” You wouldn’t even try showing an ounce of respect at this point. 

“Firstly, I don’t like the language you’re using. Secondly, I’m just trying to protect you. You know the rules, there’s no point in breaking them.” He reasons.

“Don’t protect me, not when I’ve finally found a reason to be happy.” You said coldly, staring into his soul with such emotion. 

“You can’t keep that reason if our parents find out.” 

“Then they can go and fuck themselves for all I care.” You said bluntly before facing your desk, touching up on some notes from class. He sighs, knowing it’s utterly pointless to try and help such a stubborn sister. 

“Don’t come to me when you fall into despair. This was your choice, I was only trying to save you.” 

November.

It’s the month of the Inter-High Preliminaries, where other volleyball teams fight to go to the Nationals. The team has been training hard, getting experience from practise matches. They used it well and have managed to defeat the Iron Wall of Date Tech, yet it just wasn’t enough to beat the powerhouse school: Aoba Johsai. 

Kageyama, the tall, blue-haired giant, was stressed beforehand about that very match. Their setter, Oikawa, was better overall in some things, even winning the ‘Best Setter Award’. The two setters went to the same team: Kitagawa Daiichi. To Kageyama, Oikawa was a role model, a person to look up to. 

Oikawa was different. Instead, he looked to Kageyama as a person to beat, to look down upon. You see, when Oikawa was the only best setter in the team, he was relied on a lot, being the control cell tower. However, his abilities started going into a declining process, affecting the team in general. So, in his eyes, who made it worse? Young Tobio Kageyama. 

Kageyama had been playing volleyball in elementary school. When he joined Kitagawa Daiichi, many were surprised by his good sets. So, often, he would replace Oikawa, making the elder sit on the bench, fuming.

It drove him to just practice, practicing until he was better, until he got stronger. It led to Iwaizumi having to knock some sense into him each time, for Oikawa was overworking himself, and losing his self-control. An example of this is when Oikawa was practicing his serves, something Kageyama wished to do. Asking his elder for advice, he approached Oikawa, asking if he could teach him how to do his amazing jump serves. However, he viewed Kageyama as a monster, a monster like Ushiwaka – the ace of Shiratorizawa. So, he attempted to punch him right there and then. Why? Because he was afraid, he knew Kageyama had potential, enough to beat him. 

That’s how Oikawa improved for the better. How he was able to use all that training to beat his underclassmen. He may seem cocky, but really, he’s humble. He knows his strengths and weaknesses and tries to improve. That’s how he was able to bring out the best of his players in his sets. That's right, he was always able to make his team stronger, probably from his experience of improving and understanding himself.

 He’s loved by many, especially girls, but he’s never really found the one. 

Until you appeared.

There: a sweet girl who isn’t like those noisy little fangirls. A humble person like himself. He grew an interest in you, and, through annoying Hinata and Kageyama, brought himself to you. 

“Hello there,” He gave a flirtatious smile, “what’s your name, pretty?”

You couldn’t lie: he was handsome. That tall height, the hair, his looks - he was another beautiful boy. But, there’s a problem – what about Sugawara? He was basically your first crush, someone you would die for. Moreover, you said he was your happiness. But what about Oikawa? What about the very man who’s asking your name in such a sexy manner? 

Wait, but I’m not Suga’s girlfriend, so he has no control over me.

Wrong. Sugawara believes that he can control you, and wouldn’t mind getting rid of the problem that’s blocking his way into becoming your forever. You should’ve been smarter if you wanted the poor handsome man to live, because now Sugawara’s gonna eliminate the problem – and fast.

“I’m Y/n…Y/n Sawamura.” 

Ah, Sawamura as in their captain’s family name?

“Oh, are you Daichi’s sister? I never knew he had one…” His eyes drift off to the floor, before smiling and meeting yours again, “That won’t stop me from asking you out though-”

“What are you doing with my girl?” Sugawara asks coldly, eyes piercing his soul. It gave you the chills, the way Sugawara looked so scary, like he was mental. Oikawa was taken aback by this, eyes blinking in confusion,

“You have a boyfriend? Mr. Refreshing is your boyfriend?” He looks back at the two of you. You didn’t want to answer, because you didn’t really know what kind of relationship you are in with Sugawara. You guys said you were best-friends, yet you two never really acted like one without romantic feelings. 

But you didn’t need to put everything on the line right now, for Sugawara brushed by him and dragged you away. That firm grip made your hand ache, and you begged for him to stop. Only until you guys got away from the crowd did he finally speak…and change. When you hissed in pain when trying to make your hand move, Sugawara got on his knees and started kissing it, saying his apologies in a chant, looking up at you with doe eyes. You’re shocked by the contrast, how could he have switched everything about him so quickly? Your bodies press as he brings you in for a hug, stroking your hair with his hand and the other rubbing your back in small circles.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n…Just don’t hang out with other guys, ok?” 

Fuck. It was so calm and gentle the way he said his subtle threat. It was so calm and gentle yet those words itself choked you, making you feel trapped. It didn’t feel as good, for it was suffocating the way Sugawara wanted to be with you 24/7. You were bewildered with yourself: do you like this or hate it? You’re not pushing him away, yet it feels weird. 

You hear Hinata calling both of your names, looking for you guys. You two separate yourselves from the hug, coming out of the abandoned corridor and following Hinata to the courts. 

Just before the game started, Oikawa said to you,

“Hey, pretty, if I win this match, you have to go on a date with me, ok?” He didn’t even bother letting you answer, running out of the doors and joining his team.

33-31. Who were the victors? Was it the devastated team that fell silent and on the floor in despair, or the standing powerhouse team that cheered in victory of defeating the ‘wingless crows’? Oikawa smirked in your direction, knowing he’ll get a date with you.

Or so he thought. 

“That bastard…” Sugawara mutters,

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“Y/n~” Oikawa waves at you as both your teams meet up with each other. The crows express their annoyance and anger to the thriving plants, and they reciprocate it back. 

“Oikawa,” Daichi forces a fake smile on his face, “what makes you say my sister’s name, but less know her?” He questions, with Sugawara pressing his shoulder more firmly against yours. 

“Why, we met each other. And,” His eyes look at yours, “remember the deal? Give me your number, I’ll text you when we meet again.” He rummages in his bag for his phone, while Daichi yells at him.

“WHAT DEAL DID YOU MAKE WITH MY SISTER?” He looks at you, fuming, “WHAT DEAL DID YOU MAKE WITH HIM? WHAT DO YOU MEAN ABOUT ‘MEET AGAIN’?” 

Oikawa was first to take a step out of his line, going through your bag until he got your phone. Everyone just stood there, shocked by this rude awakening. After successfully obtaining your number, he winks at your team, waving his phone in the air before heading off with his teammates, the victors. 

“Ah, I forgot.” He aims this directly at Sugawara, 

“Beat ya to it.”

Sugawara wasn’t going to have this. He stares at the disappearing figure as he mentally foreshadowed the upcoming events very subtly, 

“We’ll see who gets the last laugh, who’ll stand victorious in gaining Y/n’s love.” 

 “Y/n.” Daichi started, the urge to scream at you was in favour of winning, “why did Mr. Oikawa know your name, tell us about some kind of deal, and even have your number?” 

You wanted to cry, overwhelmed by the events that happened in less than a day. 

“Daichi, I think Y/n should stay with me.” Sugawara stated nonchalantly, as if he didn’t abuse his right as his best friend just to have you all for himself. Daichi nods in agreement, thinking he should trust Sugawara since the silver-haired boy was smart overall. 

“Yeah. Y/n, you’ll stay with Sugawara when we get back to the hotel.” He gets inside of the bus as the others hop in. You sit in the window seat at the back, head pressed against the window as Sugawara sat next to you, taking sneaky glances as you look at the scenery. Finally, you shift your head onto Sugawara’s shoulder, the two of you talking as everyone on the bus fell into a deep slumber.

“Suga,” You play with his hands, “I want you to cuddle me later.”

This was so unexpected for the both of you, because you never really asked for these things. However, you felt like you needed a hug, comfort, and that only Sugawara can only provide that. 

“Of course, Sugar…” He puts his chin on your head, “I’ll be the one who does these things to you,” His hand strokes your face as you try to fall asleep, 

“I’ll be the one you only gonna need.”

It was a good few hours on the bus before you guys reached the hotel. Everyone stands outside, yawning in fatigue after a long and tiring day. You cling onto Sugawara for support, to which he willingly helps as Mr. Takeda gives out his speech.

“You all did well. Just because you didn’t win doesn’t mean you weren’t good.” He was about to continue before Kageyama cut him off.

“But we weren’t good enough. Us losing proves that.” 

Sugawara whispers a ‘Wait for me for a few seconds, Y/n.’ as he helps you stand up, before marching over to Kageyama with annoyance. 

“Stop being negative! That’s what makes us feel bad. We did our best, and it’s better to lose proudly because of how hard we fought rather than not giving our all. You need to understand that this isn’t the last, and that there are many opportunities! All we need is to rest, reflect and get ready to improve. Stop dwelling over the sad stuff and focus on what to do next!” 

Kageyama was about to resume his degrading speech, but Sugawara prevented him from doing so. 

“Negativity….Be gone!” He jabs Kageyama in the chest, earning a pained yelp from the official setter. Everyone laughs at this, with Asahi adding, “Yep, I know how that feels like, Kageyama..” to the fun. The team settled down inside, eating a hearty meal despite crying all over again, and, now, prepared to go to sleep. You shared a room with Sugawara, plopping down next to him as you gave him a big hug. The two of you stayed like that until your phone vibrated, holding a message. 

“I really wanna see you again, but I wanna make things special. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it will be my first ever date, and so I wanna make it memorable. Meet me at 7pm at this hill on Christmas Day. See you, pretty.”

“He wants you on such a nice day, huh…” Sugawara sighs, “Do you want to go?”

“I kind of need to though,” 

He smiles, “I’ll make sure you won’t have to.” 

“Really?” You were shocked and confused, how could he?

“Mhm,” He pulls you into a hug again, “you’ll never have to see him,

 ever again.”

December 25th

Date (Meeting) with Oikawa. 

You stared at the reminder for the day, feeling quite nervous about…everything. This was your first date, yet you wished it could’ve been with someone you felt close to, someone who felt like a boyfriend. Oikawa was just a victorious gambler, winning the grand prize of taking you out. He did seem quite handsome, but that was pretty much it for his first impression. 

Ignoring the upcoming event, you go downstairs to eat lunch, surprised that Sugawara was there. He might have given off your entrance to Daichi with his eyes, and you wished you stayed upstairs just for a little longer. You swear you could’ve passed out right there and then when you saw Daichi’s hell-like figure, his anger spreading throughout him like flames. The way you couldn’t see his eyes, how you couldn’t even hear him breathe; it all terrified you, leaving you in a petrified state as you forgot how to breathe yourself. 

Suddenly, you were in a world of black.

[Now playing: Lucifer – Enhypen ]

You gasp, taking a deep breath as you wake up, realising you were back in your room. Making sure you weren’t in a dream, you check your phone – 20:13. 

Geez, I’ve been knocked out for this long?

Feeling thirsty, you get out to get a drink, before the feeling that you’ve forgotten about something haunts you. 

What is today?

You check your phone again, December 25th – Christmas. But what could you have forgotten? Was it you didn’t text your friends with merry greetings, give them the presents, or eat a Christmas meal? It was bothering you, until you focused on the time. Time; only then did it hit you: you were supposed to meet up with Oikawa. Checking the messages app, you press on his contact, shocked when you haven’t received a message. Hearing the frightened screams of your mother, you rush downstairs, listening to the TV as your family panics.

“Good evening. Police have sent warnings to the people of the Miyagi Prefecture in particular to watch out as Aoba Johsai Setter, Tooru Oikawa, was found dead near a hill today. Many are surprised by the sudden death, and experts have said that this was an act of murder. Investigations are taking place as they try to find the murderer responsible for the murder. This has brought devastation to everyone as they try to indigest the news. 

This was the case of the Christmas Day Murder.

Tooru Oikawa, may you rest in peace.”

Without knowing, you cry as you felt an immense feeling of guilt, pity and regretfor the tragic death of someone who was genuinely nice. You wished you met up with him, gave him his prize, because maybe, just maybe then he would have lived to see another day. 

“Oikawa…” You whimper in despair, “I’m so sorry…” You kneel as pictures and videos of himself are played on the screen, regret evident with the crystal tears that cried for him.

Ah, how good that felt! 

Wipes himself clean as he, too, watches the news. He cackles, “GUESS WHO GOT THE LAST LAUGH NOW, OIKAWA.” He closes his eyes while grinning, taking himself back to that moment…

[ Now playing: My Love Mine All Mine – Mitski ]

Shit, I hope I won’t be late! He hoped, driving to the hill as fast as he could. He was so excited, occasionally checking his face every now and then, jumping out of his car and running up only to be met with the natural world. His joyous smile quickly faded as he looked around, sadly finding out you haven’t arrived yet. He sighs in disappointment, lips in a pout as he felt that he got here so fast for nothing – that he wanted, at least. Maybe he shouldn’t have come at all, so that he could have a chance to avoid the Harbinger of Bad News. 

Where’s Y/n? I miss her so much…

Hearing the sound of cracking twigs, he spins around almost immediately, your name slipping past his lips as he beamed. Yet, nothing was in his view. Without warning, he got strangled from behind, the owner of the arms that choked Oikawa still unknown, and slowly cut off his air supply.

The fuck!? How could someone have gotten behind me so fast? 

As the victim rolls his eyes back to his skull, his limbs start to weaken, giving up on fighting as he stands between the lines of life and death. Seeing that he was nearly as dead, the host grabs his knife, stabbing Oikawa’s body repeatedly until he was drained of blood, and when the stabber would be covered in the red ‘poison’. Looking at the bloody and scarred dead body that lay helplessly on the floor, he gave a very loud laugh, cutting away bits of his hair with his knife to keep as a trophy.

Walking away from the crime scene, he hums a song to commemorate the achievement:

“‘Cause my love is mine, all mine…”

“Y/n, why are you crying…” Daichi asks through sniffles, having a congested nose due to his endless release of tears. 

“The fact he was all alone…all alone while waiting just for me…Oh, I feel so horrible. I shouldn’t have been so judgemental of him, of his actions.” 

“I guess that was the price of overreacting…I think I got ahead of myself. I’m sorry, Y/n,” He looks up at the ceiling to gesture his apology to Heaven, “I’m sorry, Oikawa. You were a great captain, teammate, setter, and person as a whole. I’ll dedicate my plays to you.” He pats you on the back before heading to his room. 

“This was TV Asahi, good night.” 

Commercial came on, and so you switched off the electronic as you made your way to your bedroom, sitting at your desk. Your mind was just full of Oikawa, and you wanted to do something for him. Since you enjoyed drawing, you took out your pencil case and a sheet of paper as you drew the man himself. Due to never really having a normal meetup with him, you talked to the drawing as if it was Oikawa, secretly wishing he was in your room right now, whether it be as a living human or conscious ghost. 

It went on for hours, staring at the finished product before shedding one final tear of the day. It was nearly midnight, so you bid drawing Oikawa goodnight, tucking yourself in your bed covers as you attempted to go to sleep. 

[Now playing: Rises the Moon – Liana Flores ]

Do it for Oikawa…Do it for Oikawa…

Is this what guilt does to people? It haunts them? Does it manipulate them into thinking it was their fault? It made it hard to fall asleep, because he was supposed to wake up into another day too. 

This wasn’t what Sugawara wanted, and he wouldn’t accept this outcome. As he looked at your restless figure through the hidden camera he placed when lying you in bed earlier, he slammed his hand on the table, messing up his hair in frustration as he saw that you didn’t check your phone. He sent you text messages, one asking if he could come over to comfort you, but unsuccessfully couldn’t make it to your bed, by your side. 

He touches the screen, hand touching your pixelated figure as he wished you were in his arms, sleeping soundly under the moonlight. Don’t mistake Sugawara as a vicious, manipulative killer. He just loves you so much he yearns to have the exact same amount back. The thought of you caring for someone gave him the impression that he hasn’t got 100%. Therefore, he resorts to insane methods, such as death, to make you have one less person to care about. He just wants to experience the full package of you all for himself. For him, that isn’t selfish at all. Rather, he views it as a committed relationship between the two parties.

If it weren’t for any third parties, you would get a lover boy who just solely wants to make you happy. No death, violence, blood, but daisies and a refreshing breeze in your lives. 

They say that you needed a traumatic backstory if you ever became a monster, yet why didn’t he have one? His childhood was full of laughter and joy, as if he was blessed with the sunshine forever shining down on him. Why and how did his moon cover his sun will be left in mystery, but if it happened because of you, it could be because of love. A weird, deadly, but beautiful love. 

After sunny days, when the sun disappears from the sky,

Rises the moon…

[Now playing: I wanna be yours – Arctic Monkeys]

1 new notification

Y/n: Please come over.

You stare at your glowing white phone screen in the dark. Falling asleep seemed like a challenge, still disturbed the news of today. Having shivers down your spine, you needed warmth from someone, like Sugawara. 

Since waiting seemed to take a long period of time, your heavy lids start to come at a close. However, the last thing you see won’t be an empty space on the bed, because, just on cue, Sugawara makes it to your bedroom window, which you lazily unlocked. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Sugar.” He snuggles up beside you, arms around your body as he strokes your hair. 

“Suga…

What are we?

You try to keep yourself awake as you share your thoughts, “It’s just…the way we act to each other, what we’re doing right now, the nicknames…everyone who passes by us would think we were a couple.” 

“Were we not?” 

Wait, so for the past few months, we weren’t best friends?

“Y/n, I thought you would’ve known by now. I thought you liked me too.” 

Taking your hands in his, he confesses with his genuine love he has for you,

“You know, you make me sing songs all about you. Here’s one I hope you understand,

He looks at the feminine moon before diving his gaze to you,

“

My Angel, The Sun,

Won’t you find me

Loving, Attractive,

Sweet like honey?

Because all I ever really felt

Was bliss sent from the heavens above,

And that bliss was you.

I never really understood

What made me be so drawn to you

I just may just be, a little mad

In love with you, my obsession with you

Defied all others, even if they say ‘I love you to the moon,’

Because mine may not even exist

In this universe that may have a limit.

Darling, I just want to give you the best

Because you deserve happiness.

If they say, ‘I want you too,’

It got so scared because I don’t want to

Lose you by these ugly men

I can treat you better

All you need to do is put your trust in me

I promise I’ll give you magic.

I’m a Lucifer

But don’t worry, I won’t take away your wings.

You can go up to heaven

Just make sure you fly your way back to me,

I promise you, I’ll be all you need.

My love.”

A tear of affection escapes your weary eyes as you hear the heart of Sugawara through his words. Simple, but powerful that wins your feelings. 

“I love you too, dearest Koushi.” You say just as you press your lips against his in a passionate kiss. Nothing sexual, nothing for pleasure, just pure love that the two of you hold for each other. Though you wished the minutes lasted for hours, your bodies couldn’t handle a huge amount of time without breathing, and heavy pants heat the room. You untangle your hand from his, putting one on his face as you traced over his facial features, resting it on his cheek once you felt satisfied. He looks at you from above, taking in your image as if it was his last time seeing you. You both felt that being in each other’s embrace forever was enough, and you two wouldn’t ever complain. 

And that’s how you cuddled in bed with the murderer, who made sure to rid himself of Oikawa’s blood when taking a quick, celebratory shower. He found it cute how you never thought about the possibility of him being the killer that’s rising in the trending searches, clinging onto his body with a series of emotions, but mostly to seek comfort.

Poor Oikawa, if only the two lovebirds had made their feelings clear to each other the man would have possibly lived. 

But, perhaps it was the death of Oikawa that caused a slight disturbance in your smooth flowing relationship. 

Y/n, why must I chase you again when I did this for love?

You’re lucky, because I can wait for what will be mine, always,

My dearest Y/n, my sweet angel. You’re all mine.

𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔: @rinbowaman @heeslomll @dr0wnme0ut @reesareads @pshazez @potatohoon @sungvrhs @dollyyun @diorsyun @emi-en @velvetkisscs @hoondrop @jaylaxies (lmk if you want to be added!)