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dadbodosamu · 3 years

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only you || part i

Stepdad Osamu x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: pseudocest, stepcest, cheating, wombfucking, semi-public sex (in an alley), extremely light dumbification, breeding kink, spit kink, Osamu has a dick piercing

4.5k words. thanks to @waka-chan-out and @vanilleswtmacaron for beta reading this and reassuring me that it doesn’t suck lol

ao3 link here (aha its not too long mobile just sucks!!) part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || part vi || extras || only you, too

You sighed as you tapped your fingers on the table. Your mom had decided it was high time for you to meet your new stepdad, who you had put off meeting for the past three years. You smiled as you remembered the perfectly timed appendicitis that had you missing the wedding. You couldn’t have planned it better if you tried.

Your dad had only passed away a little under four years ago, leaving your mom to remarry only six months later. You’d opted to live with your grandmother, citing her health as a reason to live with her on her farm. Your plan had worked perfectly, and you hadn’t had to meet Osamu for three years.

Now though, with your grandmother in the hospital, your mom thought it was a great time for you to come and visit and finally meet the great Osamu.

“Osamu should be home any minute,” your mom said, smiling happily over the takoyaki she was making. “He’s bringing your favourite!”

“Yay,” you said, unenthusiastically. You glanced at the time on your phone. You were almost wishing Osamu to be here so you wouldn’t have to spend another awkward second with your mom.

You and your mom hadn’t been close to begin with, you always being a daddy’s girl from the day you were born. And after remarrying so quickly, you’d drifted even further apart. At this point, you had nothing to speak to her about.

“I’m home!” Someone called. The door slid shut behind them and you glanced around, waiting for them to appear in the kitchen. “And I brought umeboshi onigiri!”

The man who stepped into the kitchen nearly knocked you out of your seat.

He was handsome. Devastatingly, heartachingly, handsome. He was tall, with brown hair and deep grey eyes, and thick. His t-shirt was pulled taut over his broad shoulders and his thighs in his shorts were almost indecent.

The next thing you noticed was that he was young. Probably only a handful of years older than your twenty-one, definitely closer to your age than your mom’s.

God, why had you put this meeting off? Had you known your mom was married to an actual god, you would’ve actually visited.

“Hey, honey,” your mom greeted, smiling at him. Your stomach twisted as she leaned over, puckering her lips for a kiss. Osamu pecked her lips quickly and turned towards you.

“Hey, I’m Osamu,” he greeted, smiling widely at you. Your heart skipped. “I heard ya like umeboshi onigiri so I made you some.”

“Th-thank you,” you stuttered. “I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to finally meet ya,” Osamu said. “Was starting to think ya were avoiding me!”

“More like she was avoiding me,” your mom said. “She was always a daddy’s girl.”

“Oh?” Osamu asked, looking at you. Your cheeks burned. “Well, I’d never try to replace yer dad, but if ya ever need some daddy/daughter time, I’m here for ya.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something stupid.

“I really appreciate that,” you said.

“Oh, I’m so glad you two are getting along already!” Your mom squealed. She carried the takoyaki to the table and smiled as she sat down. “Dinner is finally ready.”

“Itadakimasu,” you mumbled, already loading your plate up with onigiri and the other food on the table.

“So, how is university going?” Your mom asked.

You shrugged as you slurped up some noodles. “It’s going. Made nationals.”

“Oh? What sport do ya play? I don’t think yer mom ever mentioned,” Osamu said. You rolled your eyes. Of course she hadn’t mentioned volleyball, it wasn’t like you’d been playing since elementary school or anything.

“Volleyball,” you said. “I was on the Niiyama girls team in high school. Hoping to go pro after uni.”

“Volleyball? I played in high school! My brother, Atsumu, and I were on the Inarizaki team,” Osamu exclaimed.

“Not Miya Atsumu, right?” You asked, excitedly. “MSBY Black Jackals Miya Atsumu?”

“The very one!” Osamu said.

“No way! They’re my favourite team! I have a signed poster in my room, it’s my prized possession!” I exclaimed. “I heard a few members are going to the Olympics this year.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me she plays volleyball,” Osamu said, glancing at your mom.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” your mom said.

“We should go to a game sometimes,” Osamu said. “I can get an extra ticket to the MSBY, Adlers game later this week.”

“That sounds great!” You said, smiling widely.

Your mom ate in relative silence as you and Osamu traded stories about your volleyball times, only ever inputting something every once in a while. After dinner, Osamu found a Sendai Frogs match.

“I’m currently in the nation’s top 3 setters,” you said, proudly. “I’m number two behind Takao Michi.”

“I’ll have to start coming to yer games,” Osamu said. “See ya in action.”

“I’d like that,” you said, honestly.

“Why don’t ya come to work with me tomorrow? I can introduce ya to a few of my friends that are in town,” Osamu said.

“Absolutely,” you said.

“Don’t get me wrong though, I’m putting ya to work while yer there,” Osamu said. Your mom yawned.

“You all have me worn out from all this volleyball talk,” she said. “I’m going to bed.”

“Night, mom,” you said as she stood up.

“Osamu?” She questioned, turning back to glance at him.

“Oh, we’re going to stay up a bit longer,” he said. “The Schweinden Adlers have a match after the Frogs.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. You could hear the disappointment in her voice.

Osamu waited until you heard the bedroom door click shut before speaking.

“I know this is probably too much information about yer mom but she must think I’m some sex robot,” Osamu said, huffing. “A guy can only do so much.”

You crinkled your nose. “Gross, I did not need to know that.” You tried to hold steady but laughter bubbled up through your lips. Osamu laughed loudly and you joined him, holding your gut with how hard you were laughing.

“We need- we need to be- to be quiet!” Osamu laughed. “She’s trying to- tryin’ to sleep.”

You giggled a few more times before quieting down.

“So, how old are ya?” Osamu asked, standing up. “Old enough for a beer?”

“I’m twenty-one,” you said. “Old enough for a beer.”

“We got wine coolers if ya would rather have that,” Osamu said, stepping into the kitchen.

“Please,” you said. “So, how old are you? Can’t help but notice you’re quite a bit younger than my mom.”

“Twenty-five, twenty-six in October,” he said, grabbing a beer and a wine cooler out of the fridge.

“Follow up question,” you said, “and I don’t mean any offence, I’m sure she’s great in some ways, but why my mom? I mean, surely there’s no shortage of people your age that are wanting you.”

Osamu took a long drink from his beer before answering. “Ask me after I’ve drunk a few of these.”

You pursed your lips and took a sip of your fruity drink. “Fine,” you said. “Then let’s play a game. Every time the Adlers score, I’ll ask you a question and every time the Tachibana Red Falcons score, you get to ask me a question.”

“Deal,” Osamu said.

“Oh! Score!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “Another untouchable spike by Ushiwaka!”

“Shush, yer mom,” Osamu giggled. You rolled your eyes and chugged the rest of your fifth drink.

“You shush, it’s my turn,” you said, plopping down on the couch next to Osamu. “So, now tell me,” You hiccupped. “My bad. Now tell me, why my mom? Why not someone your age? Because I’m gonna- I’m gonna be honest, you’re hot and my mom is, like, she’s not, like, ugly, but, like, she’s, like, fifty.”

“I could just like cougars,” Osamu teased. You rolled your eyes and popped the top on your next drink.

“Tell the, the truth, ‘Samu,” you slurred.

“Fine, but this stays between us, as best friends,” he said.

“Bee ef efs,” you slurred.

“Yer mom helped fund my restaurant,” he said. “So, I felt bad. She’s so nice and sweet. So, I married her.”

“Now you have a step kid that’s only four years younger than you,” you said.

“Yeah, she didn’t really mention ya before we got married,” he said. Osamu leaned in close to you. “She didn’t mention how attractive ya were either.”

Your cheeks flushed. You turned your head away from him, looking back to the television.

“Oh, Falcons scored,” you said. “It’s your turn to ask a question.”

Osamu took a sip of his beer before speaking. “Why have ya been avoidin’ yer mom?”

You took a large gulp from your drink. “I haven’t been avoiding her,” you lied. Osamu blinked at you slowly.

“Fine, fine!” You exclaimed. You sipped from your drink, then responded, “Mainly because she remarried so quickly after Dad died. And to someone only four years older than me. But we’ve never been close. She and I never really saw eye-to-eye. She was the love of my dad’s life and he was just another guy to her. Not to mention, she’s never been remotely interested in anything in my life, she’s always been so self-absorbed. I doubt she even knew I still played volleyball, that’s probably why she didn’t mention it to you.”

Osamu stayed silent as you chugged the remainder of your drink.

“I know it’s probably not comforting, but I’ll be there for ya if ya need me,” Osamu said. “Even if yer mom and I separate, I consider ya a friend now.”

Osamu’s words were oddly comforting. You nodded as you reached for yet another wine cooler.

“I’m oddly comforted,” you said, popping the top easily. You fiddled with the top, thinking of what to say next.

“Another Falcons score,” Osamu said. “My turn again.”

“Question away,” you said.

“Can’t think of any,” Osamu said. He yawned.

“Tired already?” You teased, elbowing him in the side. “Old man.”

“I’m twenty-five,” he argued, yawning again. “But I am going to bed. Let’s call a rain check on our game.”

“Deal,” you said, raising your bottle to him. “Might as well go to bed, too. Night, Samu.”

“Night, Y/n,” Osamu said, standing up. He stretched out before padding down the hallway to your mom’s room.

You sighed loudly once you heard the door click shut. You gulped down your drink. “Good going, Y/n. You finally found a guy you like and he’s your stepdad.”

You finished your drink before gathering all the empty bottles and cans, throwing them in the recycling before walking towards your room. You collapsed onto your unmade bed and passed out before your head hit the pillow.

“Two salted salmon onigiri,” you said, placing the plate in front of the professional volleyball player. “And onion soup.”

“Go ahead and join them,” Osamu said, placing a few plates on the same table. “I’ll bring you out some umeboshi onigiri.”

“Thanks,” you said. You could barely contain your excitement as you took a seat between Miya Atsumu and Bokuto Koutarou.

“So, yer a setter?” Atsumu asked, taking a bite of his onigiri. You nodded.

“Number two in the nation,” you said.

“She’s better than you were, Tsumu!” Hinata Shoyo exclaimed. You smiled widely.

“In high school, I was ranked number one under nineteen in my second and third years,” you said. “I even got to play in the junior Olympics in high school. We only won silver, though.”

“We’re playing the Olympics this year,” Bokuto said. “And a few of our friends from the Adlers.”

“Kageyama Tobio, Ushijima Wakatoshi, and Hoshimiumi Kourai?” You asked. “I’ve been keeping up with everyone considered for the Olympics.”

“Maybe you’ll be playing in the next Olympics,” Sakusa said.

“That’s the goal,” you said, smiling. Osamu set a plate in front of you. “Thank you.”

“So our little star setter is here for the next week,” Osamu said, placing a strong hand on your shoulder. “We should play a game while she’s down, see how good she really is.”

“I’m game!” Bokuto exclaimed. “I wanna see those number two in the nation skills!”

“Probably nowhere near the level of you guys,” you said.

“We do have a few years on ya,” Atsumu said, ruffling your hair.

“Literally only four,” you said, fixing your hair.

“Leave the kid alone, Tsumu,” Osamu said.

“Hey, she’s my niece now, I reserve the right to tease her,” Atsumu said.

“Uncle Tsumu,” you teased.

“That’s right, Uncle Tsumu and Daddy Samu,” Atsumu said.

Your stomach flipped as the MSBY boys laughed. Osamu looked down at you and winked. You clenched your thighs together.

“All right, quiet down before ya disturb my payin’ guests,” Osamu said.

“Lunch on Samu-kun!” Hinata exclaimed. Osamu rolled his eyes.

“Once yer finished, I want ya back in the kitchen,” Osamu said. He rubbed your back before walking into the kitchen.

“So, you plan on going professional after university?” Bokuto asked.

You nodded as the table fell into casual conversation.

“I already have offers to go play in France and Brazil,” you said, taking a bite of your onigiri.

“Brazil is fantastic,” Hinata said. “I played there for a while.”

“You liked it? I’ve been debating back and forth between the two. Can’t decide which one I would enjoy more,” you said. “Does Brazil have good food?”

“The best! Unless you’re looking for Japanese food,” Hinata said. “There’s no good Japanese food.”

“Noted,” you said, smiling.

“What are you studying in school?” Sakusa asked.

“Education,” you said. “If volleyball doesn’t work out I want to teach Japanese in another country.”

“Smart,” Sakusa said.

“So, any boyfriends? Girlfriends? Significant others?” Atsumu asked.

You laughed. “With what time?”

“Oh, come on, there has to be someone!” Atsumu exclaimed. “We all find time for a lil’ somethin’.”

“There was a girl,” you admitted. “On my volleyball team, but we both cared more about volleyball than each other.”

“Any crushes?” Bokuto asked. He winked at you and flexed his arms playfully.

You pursed your lips. “And why should I tell you if I do?”

“Because we’re all best friends now!” Hinata shouted, slamming his hand on the table. He ignored the looks from the other customers.

“There is this guy I have my eye on,” you said. “He’s tall, nice, and beefy as hell.”

“Ooo, tell us more,” Bokuto said.

You shook your head. “No use talking about him. He’s strictly off limits.”

“He’s gay,” Atsumu said, nodding his head.

“What?! No!” You laughed. “He’s taken.”

“Ah, university relationships aren’t always serious, you can probably still get him,” Hinata said, waving away your worries.

“He’s married,” you said. The boys all hissed in sympathy.

“Ask for a threesome,” Atsumu said. Your face must’ve shown your disgust because the boys all laughed at you.

“She must be ugly,” Bokuto said.

“We don’t get along the best,” you said. You sighed as you looked down at your empty plate.

“Better get to work before Daddy Samu grounds you,” Atsumu teased.

You rolled your eyes, but stood up.

“It was nice meeting you guys,” you said. “I hope we can get a game together before I leave.”

“Oh, we definitely will,” Bokuto said.

“I’ll hold you to it,” you said, smiling. You waved bye to them as you entered the kitchen.

Osamu was leaned over the stove top, stirring a large pot of soup.

“Have fun?” He asked, wiping sweat off his brow with the towel thrown over his shoulder. You nodded.

“They were all super nice,” you said. “I feel like we’re actually friends now.”

“That’s good,” Osamu said, smiling at you. “Ya wanna start putting together a couple of onigiri?”

“No problem,” you said, washing your hands quickly.

“We need five salted salmon and three umeboshi,” Osamu said. “And then out to table three.”

“Got it,” you said.

The rest of the day went by relatively quickly and smoothly. It was finally around midnight when the last customers finally left and you and Osamu could close down shop.

“Come into my office and I’ll show you how to count all the money,” Osamu said, locking the main doors.

You followed him into his small office.

“Okay, whenever you count the money, make sure the door is closed and locked behind you,” Osamu said, closing the door behind him.

You held your breath as he slowly slid past you, your chest brushing against his.

“A lil’ cramped in here, sorry,” Osamu said, sitting at his desk.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, sitting in the folding chair next to him.

“So, d’ya have a good day?” Osamu asked, casually thumbing through bills.

You nodded. “It was good! It was nice meeting your friends. I really liked them.”

“Ooo, any of ‘em catch yer eye?” Osamu teased. You rolled your eyes.

“I already have my eye on someone,” you said.

“Oh?” Osamu questioned.

“He’s taken though,” you said. “Strictly off limits.”

“Ask for a threesome,” he said.

You laughed loudly. “Funny, Atsumu said the same thing. But no, I don’t get along with his wife.”

“Wife? That sucks,” he said, placing a wad of cash in an envelope.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Well, I, for one, think yer a catch,” Osamu said, sealing the envelope. “Anyone would be lucky to have ya.”

“Thanks, Samu,” you said, face burning. He patted your thigh.

“Anytime, princess,” Osamu said. You clenched your thighs together at the new nickname. “Well, we’re all done here, let’s get home.”

You trailed after him like a lost puppy as he double checked all the appliances were off and flipping the lights off.

You shivered as you stepped into the cool, night air.

“Cold?” Osamu asked, already peeling off his Onigiri Miya hoodie.

“Yeah, a little,” you said, gladly taking the hoodie from him. You tugged it over your head and breathed deeply. “Smells good. Half expected it to smell like onigiri.”

“It will soon,” Osamu said, smiling. “It’s new. Just got the shipment in last week.”

“I’ll have to get one,” you said.

“Keep it,” Osamu said. “Ya look cute in it.”

You blushed deeply. You bumped his shoulder with yours gently.

“It’s like, way too big,” you said.

Osamu shrugged. “Oversized is in. Besides, I thought girls loved to steal guys’ hoodies.”

“Yeah, guys they like,” you said.

“Well, ya took it from me,” Osamu said, bumping your shoulder. “Ya must like me a little.”

“Whatever,” you said, cheeks burning. Osamu laughed.

“Someone has a crush!” He sang.

“Shut up! I don’t have a crush on you,” you said.

“Ya did call me hot last night,” he said.

“I was drunk, so it doesn’t count,” you said. He rolled his eyes obnoxiously.

“Ya have a crush on me, just admit it,” Osamu said. “I won’t tell anyone, pinky promise.”

“You’re my stepdad, in case you forgot,” you replied. “That’s basically incest, isn’t it?”

“So ya admit it?” Osamu asked. You shoved him playfully.

“I actually have a crush on Atsumu,” you said. “He’s the hotter twin.”

Osamu pushed you into an alley and caged you against the cool bricks of a building.

“Oh?” Osamu said. “Ya think Atsumu is the hotter twin?”

You nodded slowly as Osamu looked down at you.

“It’s the hair,” you squeaked.

“Oh, yeah, forgot that girls love a guy who doesn’t know what toner is,” Osamu said, leaning down. “I think yer lying.” His nose was nearly touching yours.

“I’m not,” you mumbled. Osamu’s hands moved from either side of your head to your hips.

“You are,” Osamu whispered, lips brushing against your ear. You shivered.

“And if I am?” You asked.

“I don’t like bad girls,” Osamu said. “Lying is grounds for punishment.”

“Punishment?” You asked.

“I’d bend ya over my knee and spank ya until ya begged for mercy,” he said. You sucked in a sharp breath.

“It’s a good thing I’m not lying, then,” you said. By now, Osamu’s lips were nearly against yours, so close you could feel the heat from his breath on your lips.

Osamu ground his hips against yours, firmly pressing his hard on against you.

You bit your lip and glanced down. His cock was straining against his jeans, eager to be released.

“Tell the truth and I’ll think about not putting ya over my knee,” Osamu said, lips softly brushing against yours.

“You’re the hotter twin,” you said, putting your arms around his neck. “And I have a crush on you. And I want you to fuck me in this alley.”

“There we go,” Osamu said. He finally kissed you roughly, like he wanted to devour you. You moaned as he ground against you.

“Samu,” you moaned, pulling back. He wasted no time, kissing down your neck, sucking and biting at your sensitive skin.

“Been thinkin’ about pushin’ this lil’ skirt up all day,” he growled, pushing your skirt up around your waist, revealing the pretty pink lace of your underwear.

“Please,” you gasped as he shoved his jeans and underwear down, releasing his cock. You nearly moaned at the sight of it, long and thick and leaking precum from the swollen tip.

“Gonna wreck this cute little cunt,” Osamu said, tugging your underwear down and letting them fall to the ground. He dragged the tip of his cock through your wet folds, teasing your clit and hole.

“Is- Is that a piercing I feel?” You asked, feeling cool metal against your warm folds.

“I’ll give ya a closer look later,” he said, teasingly pushing the tip in and out of your hole. “Wanna be in ya now.”

“Fill me up, please, Samu,” you begged, digging your fingernails into his skin. Your walls fluttered around nothing as he lifted you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Good girl,” he muttered, lining his cock up with your hole. “Beg for my cock, princess.”

“Please, please, please!” You cried. “Want your cock in me, need it! Please, Samu, want you to fill me up.”

“Of course, baby girl, anything for my princess,” Osamu said, kissing you softly. He rutted his hips up into you, stretching you out suddenly.

You moaned loudly and let your head fall on Osamu's broad shoulder.

“So big,” you moaned. “Hurts.”

“Shh, shh, yer takin’ me so well, baby,” Osamu said. “Squeezin’ me so tight, wanna bust just bein’ in ya.”

You whimpered as Osamu slowly pulled out. He pushed back in slowly, giving you time to adjust to each inch. Your walls clenched around him, sucking him in deeper and deeper until the swollen tip was kissing your cervix.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Gonna ruin ya.” Osamu pulled out until just the tip was in and slammed back into you.

You gasped loudly as his cock breached your cervix, going deeper than anything had ever been in you and stretching you more than anything ever had.

“Samu!” You cried, throwing your head back and digging your nails into the nape of his neck. “Fuck, harder, please!”

“Feel that, baby? I’m so deep in ya,” Osamu said. “Fuckin’ past your cervix, yeah?”

You nodded as you bit back your moans as Osamu pounded into you. You buried your head into his shoulder and bit down, quieting your too loud moans.

“Next time, ‘m gonna have ya somewhere ya can be loud as ya want,” Osamu grunted. “Wanna hear yer pretty, little moans.”

You let out a soft moan in his ear and he snapped his hips up harder into you.

“Ah, Samu,” you moaned, struggling to keep your volume down. “Gonna cum.”

He pinched your clit as you gushed around his cock. You looked down to where your bodies met and watched as your juices leaked down his cock, dripping on his heavy balls. You moaned.

“Gonna fill ya up, baby,” he growled lowly. “Come ‘ere.”

He pulled your head up by your hair and squeezed your cheeks until your mouth fell open, tongue lolling out. He gathered spit in his mouth and spat it on your waiting tongue.

“Don’t swallow,” he said. He kissed you deeply, licking into your mouth and sucking your tongue. He kissed you messily, spit running down your chin and a thin strand of it connecting you two when he finally pulled back.

“Such a messy, little slut,” he said, slamming his hips against yours. “Taking my spit so well. Gonna take my cum like that?”

You nodded, unable to speak beyond gasps and moans as his cock abused your cunt.

“Can’t speak? Fucked ya dumb, huh?” Osamu asked. He chuckled. “My cock makin’ ya dumb, little baby?”

You whined. God, you wanted him to fill you up so bad.

“Cum. Inside.” You gasped out.

“Oh? Want me t’ breed ya? Make ya big and swollen with my baby?” Osamu asked, hips moving faster.

You nodded furiously. He rubbed your clit in tight, fast circles.

“Cream ‘round my cock one more time, baby,” he grunted.

“Samu!” You exclaimed. Your stomach tightened as your walls fluttered like crazy.

“Yeah? Gonna cum again for me?” Osamu asked. You let out a high pitched moan as the coil in your stomach snapped.

“Fill me up, please!” You moaned as you came. Osamu’s hips stuttered as he pushed into you deeply before painting your womb white. You cried out, letting your head rest against his shoulder as he moaned.

“Fuck, yer still so tight around my cock,” he hissed. Your walls fluttered. “Perfect little cunt, princess. Milkin’ me dry like a good girl.”

You whimpered as he slowly pulled out. Your legs went limp, falling from his waist.

“Can’t stand,” you mumbled, legs shaking with the weak attempt you made. Osamu held you up as he pulled his pants back up and pulled your panties back on.

“Come here, baby,” he said, swooping you up bridal style. “Let’s go home, princess.”

You nodded lamely as he carried you. You must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing you heard was Osamu talking to your mother.

“She was practically dead on her feet,” Osamu said. “Fell asleep while I was counting the money.”

“You could’ve called, I would’ve brought the car,” your mom said. You felt Osamu shrug.

“It was no problem,” Osamu said.

“Well, go lay her down in her bed,” your mom said. “Then maybe she’ll be out for the rest of the night.” You frowned at her suggestive tone and cuddled deeper into Osamu’s chest.

“I’ll go lay her down,” Osamu said. He carried you down the hall and entered your bedroom carefully.

As he laid you down, you grabbed his arm and whined, “Don’t go.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I gotta go to my own bed.”

“Don’t- Don’t fuck her,” you mumbled. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” he said, softly brushing your hair out of your face. “It’s only you from now on.” You nodded. Osamu kissed your forehead before leaving you alone.

You blinked once, twice, before you were asleep.

#cai writes #samu thoughts #tw cheating #miya osamu smut #osamu miya smut #haikyuu smut #timeskip miya osamu #miya osamu #osamu miya #tw:incest

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hinagamoizaf · 3 years

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Odaiba Memorial Day 2021

My first Odaiba Memorial Day while being an active part of the fandom, and it’s high time I write an essay about my crackhead obsession with Yakari.

(*There will be some swearing & f-bombs in this post) As a kid, Yamato was like the ‘blue and cooler Taichi’ to me, like he doesn’t exist without being adjacent to the gogglehead. Also my family didn’t have the full Dark Masters arc in our CD collection, so I literally knew nothing about Yams’ emotional meltdown. But now, I adore this overly sensitive dork, and I don’t mean that in a derogatory way. Maybe I’m biased in this reading, but I think Yamato has had to push himself to mature faster than his peers; and he’s very much a mini-adult at a young age. For all these grand monster battles, the main cast are still children; among them Yamato is a kid dealing with a lot of unresolved issues but he’s got a lot of heart, he’s passionate about those he holds dear but he just doesn’t know how to process this. Another thing that goes hand-in-hand with Yamato is the fact he’s a musician. Again, I could be reaching way into my ass here; but there’s this mumbo jumbo real life idea of the ‘depressed creative’, and Yamato works his way out of that dangerously romanticised label. The kid’s got a passion for music, he’s literally been playing the harmonica since Takeru was in diapers .Without spoiling DA:LEK, Yamato still holds onto that flame into adulthood but it’s not something he can actively work on; and that takes its toll. I love Yamato because he’s someone who cares so much about those around him and what he does; and he’s just a kid who’ sorting things out and wanting to better himself and well fuck, if that isn’t relateable. Even with the flaws that the Tri films have, I think it’s a natural progression for Yamato’s character journey. I see people saying how ‘they just turned him into a tsundere’ or ‘he’s so snappish now’. But seeing as most of the Tri cast are in High School and general teenagers are assholes to each other, yeah it’s not unreasonable to see why Yamato’s the way he is now. He didn’t lose his touch with the Crest of Friendship; when the literal world is up in flames, there’s still the same loyal and compassionate Yamato who understands the importance of being there for and with his friends. Yamato’s a big mushy boy who has a hard time conveying what he feels and his needs; Hikari isn’t any better and this was how I grew to love the concept of them being together. She’s not the Chosen Child of Light for nothing, Hikari’s symbiotic partnership with Tailmon is a very shoehorned metaphor of being an angel from Heaven and I absolutely eat that shit up. Fans have pointed out Hikari’s so mysterious with her role and powers as late member of the team, the same can be said for her personality. You see Hikari, you think ‘sweet, little girl’ and in part thanks to the 02 dub, she grows into being this sassy brat.

A brat who has trouble asserting herself and is prone to literally get dragged into an ocean of depression. Like any respectful human, Hikari cares for her friends and family; but a mixture of that and a tendency to devalue herself is Hikari’s fatal flaw. She’s too self-sacrificing to a fault, and this reflects the other extreme end of her crest. In my own overly pretentious words, I think Hikari has self-imposed on herself for ‘being the light of the team’; like she carries herself as a doll whose job is to bring others out of darkness when she’s still stuck in the shadows herself. Hikari doesn’t allow herself to verbalise her wants, let alone her needs because she doesn’t want to inconvenience others; she just goes with the flow and puts on a mask of toxic optimism.

I am aware this analyse could be me scraping the bottom of the barrel, but it’s how I interpreted Yamato and Hikari’s character; and now I’ll articulate my brain rot with how the fuck are these two being shipped.

You have these two people who already have this history and experience of being Chosen Children, but there’s also an underlying sub-connection of them being each other’s brothers’ best friend. As many Yakari fanfics have headcanon, it’s not unreasonable to think that Yamato’s at the Yagamis’ apartment frequently because A) Taichi is his best friend and B) The Ishida apartment is prolly empty ‘cause Hiroaki’s out being a workaholic. The Yagamis become the family that Yamato didn’t have growing up, and they welcome him with open arms. At their apartment, things are warm and rowdy, he doesn’t have to be alone with his thoughts and they treat him as a second son. Listen, I've been a diehard Takari shipper too, but I genuinely think Takeru and Hikari can be platonic soulmates. They know each other like the back of their hand, they’re cosmically entwined and their Digimon are in sync; they’re also legit a pair of best friends too. I know early 2000’s fics depict Yakari as being this big drama; but I have a weak heart and I’m here to say Yakari can be cosy and comforting and they’re just two idiots in love who need to be honest with each other.

I imagine their courtship not to be this grand display of fireworks and ‘the chase’, but a very subtle experience with slow burn. For me, Yakari is very much the first blossom of spring. They represent new beginnings and youth, the gentle lull of Mother Nature tending to the earth, something that’s natural but the routine has existed for centuries. Yakari is very much a gentle love, and with everything I’ve said about their characters; these two learn to embrace and nurture the other until they have a whole garden of spring’s blossoms.

This crackship has the surface-layer appeal of ‘brooding lone wolf’ and ‘sweet angel’, so when you peel the layers to find these two very private characters who just need that one-on-one reassurance/affirmation; this ship is a warm blanket of fluff and yes that’s basically the plot of my fics. It’s the charm of slice-of-life, the endearment of growing and improving yourself with the one you love with the occasional reminder that this is a series founded on puppies evolving into angels.

I’ve had enough of tragedies and melodramatic love affairs. I write about Yakari because as cliche as this sounds, I want more stories about ‘the light of friendship’. Yes that was a god awful line, but it captures why I have brain rot for this pair. To celebrate my first OMD, I have uploaded a special chapter on my AO3 fic titled ‘Mon ange’; it wouldn’t be August 1st if I didn’t half-hazardly work on this leading up to the big day. It couldn’t fit on Instagram, but this rambling piece is part of a bigger essay on my tumblr, so that’s also up and running. I hold Digimon near and dear to my heart, and I go about sharing that love by gushing about Yakari.

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musings-from-mars · 3 years

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@nuts-and-dolts-week - Day 1 : Childhood Friends (or, acquaintances?)

((EDIT: I reblogged this with an AO3 link if you want to leave a comment!))

Ruby hadn’t really understood why her dad had been so nervous about this big trip to Atlas. A whole week in the most technologically advanced place in Remnant? How could this not be the coolest thing ever? Almost all of her Signal classmates were going on the week-long trip, too. Despite her dad’s “I don’t knows” and “maybes,” Ruby had managed to get him to sign the permission slip and pay the dues for her to go. Of course, his condition that he chaperone was annoying, but at least it was happening! Ruby couldn’t wait to see the cool tech and weapons at Atlas Academy.

Much to her dismay, however, Ruby realized this school trip was ending up being way more boring than she expected. As her dad had put it, this really was shaping up to be “an elaborate recruitment event dressed up like an educational trip.” High-ranking military types and grizzled old academy professors gave tour after lecture after presentation, but to Ruby, it all blurred together. Who cared about graduation rates, or quality of education? Ruby wanted to see the cool stuff!

Which is why, despite knowing it would probably get her in trouble, she sneaked away during a lecture on the history of the kingdom to try to look around for something more interesting. Her class had spent the whole day at this academy, so Ruby knew well enough that this place was huge. But she hoped what little she’d manage to see would feature something cool. Maybe a weapons workshop, or a tech lab of some sort. There had to be something around in these huge echo-y halls.

Just when she was about to give up her search and sneak back into the lecture hall, she heard something from a nearby room. She shuffled closer and listened, noticing the placard by the door, Project Workshop #307.

“Her software is coming along even better than planned,” a man’s voice from within spoke. “The specifics of her hardware is the more troublesome aspect. But as an individual, she is displaying a tremendous level of self-awareness and agency. Not to mention she is quite personable and friendly, if not a tad bit literal. I’m still working on her ability to detect hyperbole.”

“It’s very impressive,” another man spoke. He sounded familiar. “But I am certain you know that the hardware is the top priority at this time. I find you focus too much on this project’s more...sentimental aspects.”

“Yes, well, you did ask for her to be as believable as possible. And I feel she is well on the way to achieving that goal!”

“Indeed. But you do understand what I am telling you, correct?”

“Yes, general. Understood.”

General? General Ironwood, that guy who gave the big welcome speech that morning?

“Good. I am very satisfied with the progress you’ve made on this project. Keep up the good work.”

“Thank you, sir. Good day!”

Ruby heard the sturdy thumping of boots on the floor, and she panicked and petal burst away to hide under a nearby bench. She held her breath and watched as who must have been the general walk past, none the wiser. She sighed in relief, then began to crawl out from under the bench only to see someone else leaving the same room, and she yelped and hid once more.

The person walked by her hiding spot, or...a robot? Four robotic legs ambled down the hall, and Ruby thought for a second that a big mech had been released inside the school. She poked her head out to look, but instead saw a man in a chair. It was like a wheelchair, but...with legs. Still cool, but not a mech.

Once the man and his robo-chair had disappeared around a corner, Ruby turned her attention to the room he’d left. He’d shut the door and she feared it was locked, but was relieved when it opened when she tried the knob. She grinned and looked both ways down the hall one more time, then entered. Time to see what this project was.

The men had talked about software, and how realistic she was becoming. Was this an AI of some sorts? A completely artificial person, even? The concept blew Ruby’s mind, and she hoped that was the case. She entered the room and gently shut the door behind herself, then turned to see...a laptop. A laptop sitting on a table, surrounded by notebooks and papers. Ruby had been expecting something cooler to look at. Maybe an android, like the hardware the men had talked about. She gave the notebooks a closer look, and was at least intrigued by their content.

The P.E.N.N.Y. Project.

“Penny...” Ruby muttered in curiosity as she looked at the header of one of the notebooks.

The laptop screen turned on, a bright lime green. “Salutations!”

“Wah-!” Ruby yelped and almost fell over, instead managing to land her butt in a nearby desk chair. She looked at the laptop with wide eyes. The screen was completely lime green, save for a small power on/power off icon in the bottom right.

“‘Wah’?” The feminine voice asked. “What does that mean?”

Ruby held her breath as she slowly adjusted herself in her seat, then used her legs to roll her way closer to the monitor. “Hello?”

“Hello!” The voice answered with delight.

“Who are you?” Ruby asked.

“I am Project P.E.N.N.Y., but you may just call me Penny.”

Ruby’s jaw fell open, and she glanced at the notebook again. “You...you’re an artificial intelligence.”

The voice seemed to giggle. “In a way, I am. My intelligence is man-made, but my more proper categorization is ‘Synthetic Person.’”

“Woah...” Ruby murmured, staring at the screen.

“‘Woah?’“ Penny asked. “What does that mean?”

“It...” Ruby wasn’t sure how to answer. “It’s just a thing you say when, like, you see something really cool.”

“‘Woah’ is an exclamation of wonder?”

“Yeah!” Ruby said with a laugh. “That makes more sense than what I said.”

“Thank you for teaching me!”

“Uh, sure.” Ruby was talking to a computer. Or, well, a synthetic person. This was so flipping awesome! This was exactly the kind of thing she had been hoping to find.

“Who are you?” Penny asked.

“I-I’m Ruby.”

“It is wonderful to meet you, Ruby!”

Her enthusiasm was infectious. “And it’s awesome meeting you too!”

“You are the first person besides my fathers that I have gotten to talk to so freely.”

Her fathers? “You mean the general, and that man in the...spider chair?”

“Precisely!” Penny confirmed. “Pietro Polendina is the one who is designing me, and General Ironwood is overseeing my progress.”

“That’s really cool,” Ruby said with a laugh. “When do you think you’ll be finished?”

“That is uncertain at this time. My father is currently designing a physical body for me! But the problem with that is without an Aura of my own—”

The door suddenly opened, and Ruby spun around in her chair to face whoever it was. Except she spun herself a little too hard and continued rotating, having to turn her head to face the man in the robo-chair while scrambling to stop her spinning.

“P-pardon me,” the man said, eyes wide and glasses crooked on his face as he stared at Ruby.

“Sorry!” Ruby yelped, hopping to her feet and standing upright, rubbing the back of her head. “I, uh...” She then quickly fell to the floor and mimed searching around for something. “I dropped my...lucky bottle cap.” My what...?

The man adjusted his glasses and chuckled. “Child, shouldn’t you be with your classmates?”

Ruby’s cheeks warmed. “Yeah, uhm...I got lost?”

The man Ruby deduced to be the Pietro Polendina whom Penny had mentioned shook his head fondly. “I do not blame your curiosity, young one.” He glanced at the desk. “I see you have made an acquaintance, Penny.”

“Ruby and I are acquainted?” Penny asked, sounding excited. “I have never been acquainted to someone before!”

Pietro chuckled fondly, like Ruby’s dad would anytime she’d go on a ramble about weapons or types of Grimm. “And while I am all in favor of you meeting new people in time, I’m afraid all information to do with you is proprietary at the moment. You and Ruby will have to catch up some other time.”

“I understand,” Penny said. “My conversational software is very impressionable.”

Ruby stood back to her feet as straight as she could, feeling hot under her Signal uniform. “So, uhh, I should go, huh?”

“Do not forget about your lucky bottle cap!” Penny reminded her earnestly.

“Oh, uhh...” Ruby’s face burned.

Pietro let out a hearty laugh and shuffled his robo-chair to the side. “Run along, Ruby. You are certainly missing a riveting retelling of Atlas’ military history.” Humorous sarcasm tinged his words.

Ruby nodded and awkwardly marched to the door. “Y-yes, sir,” she said, then struggled with whether she should salute or not, then compromised with a wave. “Uhm...bye, Penny.”

“Farewell! I hope to talk to you again soon, acquaintance!“

#nuts and dolts week #rwby #nuts and dolts #penny polendina #ruby rose #pietro polendina #drabble

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decodingellipses · 3 years

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Alexis Nikole, The TikTok Forager

This piece is part of the Person of Interest vertical at @bonappetit

Alexis Nikole considers her TikTok fame a fortuitous accident. She knew nothing about the platform until she started an account for her day job as a social media manager. But when the 28-year-old from Columbus, Ohio, began experimenting on her personal page during the pandemic, she got more than she bargained for. Specifically: over 600,000 enthusiastic followers and 10.3 million likes.

Since April of last year, Nikole’s now viral account has been showcasing her immeasurable knowledge of foraging and cooking with wild plants: a sorbet made out of Japanese knotweed (Reynoutria japonica), hairy bittercress (Cardamine hirsuta) turned into lush salads, and common dandelions (Taraxacum officinale) battered and fried like fritters. She studied environmental science and theater at Ohio State University, and often combines her two passions on the platform—where you’ll find her singing original songs about cattails and sassafras.

By sharing excellent foraging tips laced with undiluted humor, Nikole’s intentions were for people to take agency over their meals and make the most of foods that were free and readily available all around; especially after COVID-19 hit American shores and shopping was anxiety inducing. During the early months of the pandemic, Nikole’s TikToks focused on how foraged goods could extend groceries and increase access to fresh ingredients, especially for those living in food deserts. This is precisely why Nikole’s videos are so grounding; in these times, it’s crucial to feel some sense of self-sufficiency and stability.

Amid global adversity, Nikole forages because it reminds her that she’s human—and humans, at their very core, are part of the ecosystem, no matter how much we distance ourselves from that truth. I called up Nikole to learn more about her foraging background, how she practices gratitude for what is all around, and why the world needs more hyper-localized food systems.

Foraging makes me feel I am a part of something bigger… and that feeling is really good at chasing the depression away. Typically I go out between two to five times a week on average. In the dead of winter, I might only go once, and during the dog days of summer, I’m in the woods and nearby parks every single day. I’ll jam to ’80s funk the entire walk to the creek, but the earbuds go away when I get there. I want to hear everything—the crunching leaves under my feet, the babbling brook, and people conversing and laughing in the distance.

I used to dream of being a pop star… by night and a scientist by day. I’ve been surrounded by music for a long time. I was three when I joined the childrens’ choir at my dad’s Baptist church, I started classical piano at age five, I was in choir every year through junior high and high school, I performed a cappella in high school, and was on the e-board of ukulele club in college. I was never a prodigy, but music brings me so much joy, so I love being able to sneak that into my TikTok videos.

The best meal I’ve made using a foraged ingredient is probably… chicken-of-the-woods mushroom (Laetiporus sulphureus) “crab cakes” and an American sea rocket (Cakile edentula) and steamed beach pea (Lathyrus japonicus) salad tossed in olive oil infused with goldenrod (Solidago). Very gourmet!

My curiosity for the outdoors… was nurtured from a very young age by my parents. My two sets of grandparents knew that scouting was good for building connections and recognized the importance of getting outside, and thus got my parents into it early. My mom scouted longer than my dad did and went to sleepaway camp in New Hampshire in the summertime. Eventually, while working at Procter & Gamble, she gardened on the weekends to decompress. I would help her, spreading mulch or digging into the earth with a tiny trowel while she quizzed me on the plants. Unbeknownst to my mom, I was picking up a lot of information. From there it grew into a love of all things growing plants outdoors.

You don't have to go full forager… to reduce your environmental impact. Over the past few decades society has trended away from a localized food system, toward a global one. On the upside, it’s much easier to find ingredients like star anise at the grocery store. However, access to tomatoes year-round means they’ve got a higher carbon footprint because they traveled thousands of miles to get to your plate. Even shopping at your local farmstand helps with lowering your carbon footprint; it’s also a little easier than identifying a plant and bringing it home to eat.

Everyone was afraid of going to the grocery store… when I started my TikTok foraging videos in April 2020. So I thought: Hey! Here are a few plants that are really common and probably growing in your neighborhood that you can gather, and maybe that’ll stretch your groceries a bit.

Poor and POC communities are hit hardest… when major disasters hit. We saw the same thing playing out in Texas with the massive winter storm. So I offer my knowledge to help someone who needs to get some fresh food on their plate.

As a Black, queer female forager on the internet… I’m not the person people expect to see excited about foraging, the outdoors, biology, botany, and history. I have delightful forager friends who are white, and I notice they don’t get questioned nearly as much as I do. That’s heartbreaking. When my dad learned that my account becoming viral also meant me becoming susceptible to online harassment, he got angry and told me, “I’ve been alive for 65 years. It doesn’t feel good that you’re still called into question because of who you are.”

Though, it all feels worth it when… a follower sends me a thank-you message saying, “Because of you, while I was out walking I recognized this plant and it made me feel like my neighborhood was a cooler and happier place.” To be less unacquainted with plants or more connected to surroundings because of me is a huge win. We take better care of the things we know.

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passable-talent · 4 years

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nobody requested this but here it is

dedicated to: the new love of my life, for whom I reopened my lip piercing. also to @haydens-moles

Sam Monroe x Male!reader because this is 100% self indulgent

Between the ages of sixteen and twenty, you’d outgrown a lot of things. Thinking you were cooler than the need for school, that was one of them. Trying to scream along to your music was another- you just let the professionals handle those parts, and picked up the song again when the singing came back.

The two things you hadn’t outgrown, through the last two years of high school, and the first two years of college? Your excessive amount of piercings, and your crush on Sam Monroe.

Honestly, fuck that guy. Fuck him and his high cheekbones and smooth biceps and long-sleeve-under-short-sleeve fashion sense. Fuck him and his dyed hair and his rings and his piercings.

You’d been closer friends with him then your sister, Alyssa, for most of your life. She stopped talking to him for a while in the first few years of high school when he moved out of his dad’s house right next to yours, but he stayed close to you, your taste in music and drugs keeping you familiar.

Sometime right before his dad died, you started to pull away from him. It was a dick move, yeah, to abandon him when he so desperately needed his friends, but you were crushing on the straight guy who’d started fucking your sister, so. You had some valid feelings, too.

You both went off to college, and didn’t see each other, pretty much ever- you went to different colleges, and both of you roomed on campus. You thought that maybe you would even escape him when you went home for the holidays, since Alyssa broke up with him before freshman year. Because she liked to ruin your plans, though, she stayed friends with him, for some fucking reason. She wasn’t one to hold onto an ex-boyfriend, so you didn’t really know where that was coming from.

Especially since...

Okay, Alyssa tells you practically everything. You’ve always been really close, being fraternal twins and all, but when you figured out you were gay in fifth grade, it gave the two of you so much more to talk about. And yeah, she knew you super well, and she knew you were crushing on Sam. She had always assumed the two of you were the perfect match, with your piercings and your attitude and your band tee shirts. It didn’t hurt that she thought he was gay. Right up until she started sleeping with him.

You couldn’t exactly blame her.

And then she broke up with him a year or so later because she could feel something was off, and it seemed like he took about a year or so to figure himself out before texting her one night with the words ‘you were right, turns out: I am gay.’ Which pissed you off more than surprised you, because- honestly, the bad timing, right?

Either way, you grew to loathe holidays. Whenever you came home from college, so did he, and he always came to see Alyssa.

Every time he did, he felt the simmering anger you held toward him, it’s not like you hid it very well. It’s hard to look into a face adorned by dyed hair, just like yours, and lip and ear piercings, just like yours, and still manage to hide your emotions. Dammit, he really was perfect for you. The older you got, the more he proved it.

It just made you hate him more.

He never said a word about your animosity, when you disappeared into your room whenever he visited, not to be seen again until after he left. He didn’t say a word when you got snappy with your sister when he was around, he said nothing when you didn’t come down to eat dinner with your family, so long as he was at the table. He took it in strides.

And then he decided to stop sitting idle, and figure out what was wrong with you.

You were in the living room on December eighteenth, watching TV. Your mom and sister had left to do some Christmas shopping, so you’d tossed your feet up onto the arm of the couch and raided the alcohol your mom swore up and down she’d notice if you swiped.

She never did.

It was about eight PM when the doorbell rang, and you groaned, knowing it meant you’d have to leave your extremely comfortable position practically upside down on the couch. Throwing your legs to the floor, you made it to the door, moving the remote from its place on your chest to the coffee table.

Pulling aside the curtains covering the door’s window, you realized that it was Sam- why the hell he’d come after sundown, you didn’t care to know.

You popped open the locks, then opened the door.

“Alyssa’s not here,” you said, voice short, and went to close the door again. He stopped you before you could.

“I know,” he said, then shouldered past you and into the house. What a dick move- to assume he was welcome inside, to assume he could wait until she got back.

“Jackass, she’s not gonna be home for a while,” you said, hostility in your voice even as you took another sip of your beer.

“I know,” was his only response, leaning against the stairwell. He crossed his arms, just... looking at you. How did he know that? And why was he staring into your soul?

“Yeah, alright, whatever,” you conceded, skirting past him and into the stairwell, retreating to your room as you always did when he entered the house. “You know where the food is. Enjoy doing fuck-all until they get back.”

“Four years ago, we were friends,” he said, catching you off guard when you’d made it to the landing halfway up the stairs. “What happened?” You froze, then turned to face him.

“You..” you trailed off, giving him a look. That was why he’d come over? To interrogate you? “If you haven’t figured it out by now, you don’t want to know.”

“What if I do?” You glared for a moment longer before stepping forward, leaning your elbows onto the banister of the stairwell. Before you spoke, you grabbed your lip ring between your teeth.

“You’re in college, you’re smart enough to puzzle it out,” you said, looking at him like he was scum on earth. “What did you do four years ago that might piss me off?” You could see him begin to consider, thinking through his history. It only frustrated you further that the obvious answer wasn’t obvious to him.

“Okay, jackass, I’ll give you a hint,” you said, beginning to let anger into your voice, “What did you do in this house that might piss me off?” You saw a realization light his eyes, but he didn’t say a word.

“What, you need another hint, dumbass? You slept with my fucking sister!” Sam looked up at you, and finally you began to see some anger cloud his gaze.

“So? What’s that got to do with you?” You leaned forward further, lifting a single finger toward him.

“First of all, I’m pretty sure its a fucking rule that you shouldn’t sleep with your best friend’s sister.” He rolled his eyes, which just pissed you off further.

Like you’d been doing all your life, you vaulted over the bannister, landing in the center of the entryway. You righted your spine, stepping toward him dangerously.

“And you know what I was doing while you were sleeping with my sister?” You snarled, intimidation in your step as you approached him, “You wanna know what your best fucking friend was doing?” He stood his ground, and fuck him, he was just a bit taller than you, so you couldn’t be as intimidating as you wanted to be.

“I was trying to stop being in love with you,” you snarled, lip piercing clacking against your teeth as you spoke. “My best friend’s in the next room over, his dick in my sister, and I’m the dumbass who’s in love with him.” For a moment, there was silence in the house- you hadn’t really expected to admit it to him, especially not like that, and he hadn’t expected such a confession at all.

You couldn’t let the silence last. You were too infuriated.

“And then, you had the fucking nerve to go off to college and find out you actually were gay.” An odd thing to be angry about, sure- but you weren’t sure your anger was really at him. Maybe you were angry at yourself, maybe you were frustrated with how the past had unfolded. “How dare you? You had the fucking nerve to be into guys the whole time and still go for my sister over me? You know how much easier it would’ve made high school if you’d just figured that out a little earlier?” You turned your back on him, incapable of looking at him directly. Whether it was out of anger or embarrassment, you didn’t care in the moment to discover.

“To be fair, I didn’t know I was into dudes when I was with Alyssa.” Somehow, hearing him say that made you even angrier.

“Yeah, whatever.” You were fucking done with the whole conversation- fuck the movie you were watching, fuck the beer you left on the kitchen island, fuck him. You were going to go upstairs and wallow in some self-pity. Mr. Brightside by the Killers had been your latest song obsession- if it had come out while you were in high school, it would’ve been your anthem.

“You’re studying to be an engineer, right?” he asked, once again surprising you.

“Yeah,” you said, not turning to face him, hissing the word over your shoulders.

“So you’ve probably not taken too many humanities.” What the fuck was he on about?

“Just ethics, freshman year.”

“I took a human sexuality course last semester,” he said, and you rolled your eyes. Where the hell was he going with this? Did you really care to know? “Figured out a lot about myself. You know, some gay guys sleep with their friends’ girlfriends because they can’t sleep with their friends?”

He couldn’t be serious.

He could not be implying what you thought he was. It would make him not only an idiot, but a destructive one, too.

“Are you telling me,” you said, voice almost a growl as you turned to him, “That you slept with my sister because you wanted to sleep with me?”

He didn’t say yes. But nothing about his body language said no.

“You fucking prick-” you snarled, and it was like all of those issues you’d had with discipline and anger in high school rushed right back. In that moment, you really did mean to punch him. You took the deliberate step, aimed for his jaw, right below that pretty blue eye with the accentuating eyeliner.

He saw you coming and ducted out of the way, letting the swing pass over his head. This meant he was close enough, though, to receive your right knee under his ribcage. He reacted in time to grab the knee before it reached him, holding your leg in the air, and time paused while you stared at each other. Rage boiled behind your eyes, and he dared you to try again.

“Get off me,” you hissed, ripping your knee from his grip and shoving him backwards by the shoulder into the wall. When his shoulder blades impacted the drywall, picture frames hanging halfway across the room rattled. You held him there, right hand keeping him against the wall. Your face inches from his, you brought an accusatory finger under his chin.

“Fuck you,” you growled, but you noticed when his gaze flicked to your lips. Whatever you had meant to say was absolutely gone from your mind- no way you could think of anything after he leaned forward, pressing his mouth to yours.

‘Cause, like... fuck.

This is what you’d been thinking about since you were twelve, you know? This is what you’d been dreaming about, waiting for. Holy shit. His lips were so soft, the slight chapping catching and dragging across your lip piercing, and his hands had left the wall and now dragged across the fabric of your shirt, wrenching you closer. You dug black painted fingernails into his hair, freshly blue for the holidays, and damn, this really was everything you’d ever wanted.

He brought his hand down to your lower back, tugging you closer until there was no space between the two of you anywhere, especially not where his tongue invaded your mouth.

You pulled away, breath heavy, eyes half-lidded.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but he knew you didn’t mean it anymore. Or, not in the same way, at the very least.

“Were you really gonna punch me?” He asked, reaching up to cup your face, running his first finger over the first of your two earrings.

“What else was I supposed to do?” You asked, and he just laughed, pulling you in to kiss him again. This time, you took your arms all the way around his neck, willingly pressing your chest and hips against his. He reached down to your thighs, lifting you up, carrying you back to the couch and the movie you’d long forgotten about.

He broke from your lips and started attacking your neck halfway there, and when he dropped you onto the couch, he fell with you, like he’d rather risk smacking his face to the couch than lose his lips on your skin. Only when you had a nice dark spot on your neck and your heels trying to drag him closer did he pull away, a smirk pulling his labret to one side.

“Still gonna go up to your room whenever I come over?” He asked, expression playful, like he expected you to swing for him again.

“Ass,” you sneered, dragging him back down to you again.

-🦌 Roe

part 2

#sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe x male!reader #gay!sam monroe #life as a house #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #life as a house 2001

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btsficsforthehumble · 3 years

Text

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

Part Five

Warnings: none in this chapter

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: New characters, yay! Just an fyi but I would like to start posting one chapter every week... thots?? Also, I've been thinking of adding a taglist? sksk I know it would be small but I personally love to get tagged when new chapters come out for my faves. If that's something ya'll would like comment so I know!! Alright, back to your regularly scheduled program :)

----

Literature was next. Now this? This you could handle. Always being a bit of an avid reader, you could devour a novel in one night --- and you often did. Finding the hidden meanings between the lines of text, like unwrapping a present, gave you a thrill. You were the person who could debate for hours about the meaning of a symbol in a book, as annoying as that is to everyone else.

Maybe it was the promise of escape, where you could be transplanted into another world, detached from your own, that appealed so much to you about reading. You could lose yourself, feeling the rush of the love affair or the thrill of a dangerous adventure. Coupled with your analytical nature, you felt more than at home in a literature classroom.

With this in mind, you make your way to your next class with more vigor than usual. When you arrive and take a seat, you pull out your materials and wait for class to begin.

Several minutes later, your professor walks to the podium in the front of the room to introduce herself. After several minutes of reviewing the syllabus, she explains the structure of the class. You were to be placed in small groups, to discuss the readings and write a paper at the end of the semester. This made you a little nervous --- having to rely on others to some capacity for your grade always gave you a bit of anxiety.

She began reading out the names of the students belonging to each group, so you listen carefully as to not miss your own name despite your anxious thoughts swirling inside your head.

“... Eum Hee-Young, Gal Ae-Cha, Ree Mun-Hee, you are group seven. Kim Seokjin, Y/l/n y/f/n, Kim Namjoon, you are group eight. Ok Youngsoo…” her voice fades off as you glance around the room, trying to meet the gazes of other searching eyes as your group was announced.

Your eyes meet those of a guy who looked maybe a year or two older than you, with round, wire frame glasses. His mahogany hair was pushed off of his forehead, parted to the side giving him a youthful but put-together look. He holds up eight fingers, looking at you expectedly, and you nod quickly. He picks up his belongings, preparing to move to you as you had empty space in the seats around you. As he slings his backpack over a shoulder, you scan your eyes around the room to try to catch the other member of your group.

To your surprise, your eyes meet those of the same boy you had ogled over yesterday in your calculus class, before it had started. You shyly hold up your own eight fingers, to which he gives a decisive nod to, and begins to make his way to you as well. You can’t help but notice the planes of his back as he bends down to grab his backpack, his wide shoulders tilting making them seem even larger. He is wearing a simple blue button down and jeans, but even through that you could tell his shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, making him have the perfect masculine inverted triangular build.

Slightly embarrassed at your thoughts, you glance at your other partner, now close to you. His oversized yellow knit sweater swallowed him a little, but with the glasses gave him a cute bookish look. His large frame juxtaposed his cute appearance --- he was on the taller side and seemed built as well. You made eye contact, and gestured to the seat next to you for him to sit. The other boy now approaching, you both watch as he takes the other open seat in front of you.

Your group now assembled, you tune back into your professor who was explaining the first text you were to read together. She told you that it was a short love story that relied heavily on symbolism and became a prominent symbol in and of itself in movies and television. Your first assignment was to analyze the symbolism of the text, and come to a more complex conclusion than what the surface of the text presents. You could feel yourself becoming slightly excited to jump into the assignment as she explained.

“You will be given the rest of class to get acquainted with your group members. They will be permanent, bar any issues that may arise. The first assignment is due at the end of next class. While on this first assignment I will be more lenient with grading, please do your best and set a good standard for your groups. Okay, go ahead everyone,” she finishes.

At her dismissal of your attention, you glance back at your group members. The boy with glasses speaks first. “I’m Namjoon, nice to meet you guys.”

“Seokjin, or just Jin,” the other boy gives.

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you both.”

“So, what year and major are you? I’m a third year, and a journalism major,” Namjoon offers. As he speaks, he gives you both a grin that displays deep dimples on both cheeks. He was very cute, you decided. He had a nerdy charm to him, with a build on the beefy side that made you want to cuddle him.

“I’m a first year… and to tell the truth I haven’t decided on a major yet,” you admit, but give them both a smile.

“Ah, hoobae, you are lucky you are with us pros then! I’m a fourth year, and a business major,” Seokjin says with a wide smile.

“Sunbaenim, are you in calculus before this? I thought I recognized you from there,” you downplay a little. You knew he was in that class since you had spent time checking him out in it, but didn’t want to seem creepy.

“I have a recognizable face.” At this he gives a smug look, but is clearly using a joking tone. “Yeah, calculus with Yoo at nine?”

“Yep. That guy goes so fast,” you frown. “But anyways, how do you guys feel about this assignment?”

Namjoon enters the conversation again, “Honestly I’m kind of excited for it. It’s been a while since I’ve done any reading that isn’t research related, which kind of sucks.”

“That does suck. I love to read, that’s why I took this class, actually,” you empathize.

“Yeah? What do you like to read?” Namjoon leans towards you a bit, excited at the prospect of talking about reading it seems.

“Oh, um… I’d say my favorite genre is probably any type of fantasy, I like being able to be in a different world for a bit. Oh, I also like historical pieces, that stuff is always so interesting.” You were a little hesitant to share, afraid he’d judge your preferences.

“I love historical pieces. I think that’s one of the things that lead me into journalism actually, it’s basically writing history for those in the future to look back on. I just think that’s really cool.” His eyes seemed glitter as he talked about something he was obviously passionate about. You felt yourself developing a soft spot for the boy, finding his friendly disposition and slightly nerdy personality to be incredibly endearing. It didn’t hurt he was also very attractive.

“What about you sunbaenim? Do you like to read?” you ask Seokjin, whose head was oscillating between you and Namjoon.

Surprised the attention shifted to him, his eyes widened to give him an owlish look. You are really surrounded by some beautiful men, you think. What do they put in the water here? It would be normal to run across a cute guy here or there, but this is kind of ridiculous. Seokjin himself has a face that is so beautiful it looks like it should have been carved out of marble!

Focus! You have to scold yourself. The boy you were just admiring in your head is now answering your question and you are too distracted to even process what he’s saying.

“... not too crazy, occasionally I guess…” His body language told you that he was slightly embarrassed at not being as enthusiastic a reader as you and Namjoon.

“I’m sure you have hobbies that are cooler than reading then, if I was athletic or creative I wouldn’t read so much either! Namjoon-sunbaenim, I’m sure you agree,” you encourage with a smile, wanting Namjoon to follow suit in making Seokjin feel comfortable.

Thankfully, he catches on quick. “Oh, yeah, I am way too clumsy to do anything more high stakes than page turning,” He chuckles. You and Seokjin both smile at Namjoon’s subtle self-deprecation. They both were sweet, you think. Your earlier fears about working with others subside. “I guess I could say that I do have another hobby though, I actually help out at the school’s radio station for fun,” Namjoon adds shyly.

Jin tilts his head in surprise. “Oh really? I have a friend who…”

He gets abruptly cut off by the professor’s voice echoing through the room, which causes him to stop his thought.

“Hopefully everyone is acquainted now, and is ready to get to work next class. I expect good things from you all this semester. You are dismissed,” your professor says with finality.

The three of you quickly gather your things, ready to merge with the swarm of students streaming out of the door. You give them both a smile, and say, “It was nice meeting you both. See you next class!” to which they give their own farewell.

As you leave, you check your phone out of habit. It seems your intuition is right, as usual.

*Miss me yet?*

Does Taehyung really have nothing better to do?

*What exactly is there to miss?*

You hope that after your curt response he’d get the memo. This guy is such a fuckboy, you think. While you don’t know why he set his sights on you for now, you hope he gets bored soon. While you give that tough persona to him, the truth is you are more sensitive than that. The idea of being used for sex once and then discarded was unappealing, and Taehyung seemed like the type to do just that.

----

Finally home after attending two more classes for the day, which were thankfully much less eventful, you slip off your shoes and let your bag slide off your shoulder to thunk on the floor. You were tired. And hungry, apparently, because your stomach makes some concerning noises as soon as you slip your light jacket off. You make your way to the kitchen at the sound, ready to make a nice dinner and decompress.

When you get there, you see one of your new roommates sitting at the stools for your kitchen counter. This roommate was one that you had connected with immediately, drawn to her blunt but fun-loving aura. Her short stature, shorter than average, gave no warning for her and ‘gives-no-fucks’ attitude. You could tell however, that inside she had a soft heart. Even in your short time together, you had seen glimpses of it here and there.

You learned when you had met that she had moved to Korea from America last year, making her a second year at your university. Her features stood out from the crowd, with brown skin and large curls that framed her face in a halo. She was really quite beautiful. Tia, but called Bean by her friends, which now included you, made you feel welcomed to campus and you were thankful for her.

Wanting to not scare her as you walked into the kitchen, you gave her a greeting. Her head pops up from where it was buried in her phone, which had been drawing her into her own world.

“Hey chickie. Long day?” she asks. Apparently your exhaustion was pretty obvious if she could tell right off the bat. You sigh, bending over to pull some vegetables out of the fridge.

“I just want to know who let me schedule four classes on Tuesdays. They should be in jail,” you complain.

She gives you an amused look, watching you now stand at the cutting board to prepare your food. “I think that person was you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. If I could go back in time and slap my past self I would,” you grown with your head tipped back. She lets out a laugh at your expense.

“Don’t laugh at me unnie! I’m going to pass away from exhaustion over here!” you try to say seriously, but can’t help but let out a little giggle. “What were you doing with your head buried in your phone, huh? Are you talking to someone?” you tease, pointing your knife at her with your other hand on your hip.

“Why, do you wish it was you?” She wiggles her eyebrows, giving you a side smirk. You knew she was deflecting, so you lift your eyebrow and give her a flat expression, waiting for her real answer. “Ugh, it’s nothing. There was just this really cute girl in my class today, and I tried talking to her but she didn’t really seem like she liked me… and I may have just been looking at her social media,” Tia admitted.

Now at the stove, stirring your dinner, you look over your shoulder to say something that would hopefully ease her anxiety. “You know that you can come on strong sometimes, maybe she’s just a little shy, ya know? Maybe try again with a softer approach,” you offer. “What is there not to like?”

She gives you a wide grin to match your own at your last remark. You both giggle, any tension in the air from Tia’s concerns gone. Dinner now finished, you grab two bowls and serve you both. You both slip into easy banter, almost like you two have been friends for years. You hope that you will be, someday.

#BTS #ot7 #ot7 x reader #poly ot7 #fanfic #newfangled

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mffgh · 3 years

Text

interviews with nakamura yuuichi, hiroshi kamiya, jun fukuyuma, and daisuke ono about the movie. translations from @sakiamiya on twitter, from different magazines.

What do you feel is the charm of “Osomatsu-san the Movie”?

NAKAMURA: For the people watching, the eighteen year old versions are like another face of an already two-faced character. So the viewers will be able to see a past Karamatsu, a new face to the present Karamatsu, and be able to enjoy that.

What I felt was interesting was how the staff stuffed everything they wanted to do into the movie. The movie is 110 minutes long, but to follow just the plot, you would need only 60 minutes. 50 minutes of the movie is them doing things with no direct relation to the plot (laughs). That’s why, while the movie is long, I hope you will be able to watch it comfortably.

Since it’s a movie adaptation, there are homages to other famous movies. However, there are also, “Eh? What the heck is this?!” scenes with no meaning at all, as well as jokes they’ve been using in the TV series, with a “I wonder if it’s boring now …” kind of scene. Basically, the movie is the same as the TV series. Normally when there’s a movie adaptation, there will be many characters who become cooler. When it comes to these sextuplets, you get the feeling they’re the same as always.

The eighteen year old Karamatsu is a little bit timid and reserved, an opposite to the present Karamatsu who always has a posed look on his face, thinks he’s cool, and does everything brimming with self-confidence.

NAKAMURA: The reason why eighteen year old Karamatsu is shy, reserved, and gauges other peoples’ feelings anxiously, also affects the story. He’s not like this because it’ll be interesting to see him in a position like that, but rather, that’s how he is because of his character. Through acting as him from the TV series, I feel his slightly pathetic side is—though this part is something I don’t know as I’m the only child in my family—how it is because that’s how “a second son in the family” is.

Because in the end, no matter where he goes, he’s in a position where he has a big brother, but he also has younger brothers. He has to be proper and act mature in front of his little brothers. However, to Osomatsu and his little brother right under him, Choromatsu, he shows this you’re actually timid, aren’t you? side to them, while eighteen year old Karamatsu is a character who shows this timid side strongly. As such, I didn’t feel like he changed completely, or any surprise about his change.

Acting-wise as well there isn’t much of a difference between present Karamatsu and his eighteen year old self. Instead of making a new ‘character’ of Karamatsu, there’s a part of the movie where Karamatsu becomes a key to something, and so I paid attention to how he makes his appearances and how he hides things in his heart—so, his feelings.

----

Could you let us know what impressions you had about the eighteen year old sextuplets?

KAMIYA: When I first saw the eighteen year old sextuplets, I thought that among them, it’s Osomatsu and Osomatsu alone that remained the same as Osomatsu. It’s because this person’s character doesn’t go off course that the rest can do whatever they like—Osomatsu can also be called the symbol of the sextuplets. I’m sure if Osomatsu’s character isn’t consistent, then the movie will make no sense at all. This time too, Osomatsu remained consistent for us so that the rest of the characters’ personalities can break apart (laughs).

I look forward to seeing how all the characters’ personalities go off course! To continue on, I would like to ask about your experiences during recording … How was it to act as Choromatsu again after a while?

KAMIYA: When it comes to Choromatsu, I never quite went through pains to prepare for his role, so I felt I was able to do it again this time without any problem. However, there were bits of hard parts when it came to the eighteen year old Choromatsu.

Choromatsu is a bit more normal compared to the rest of the sextuplets, so he becomes someone who will end up saying natural and normal things out loud, I think. However, like a button buttoned in the wrong spot, taking, “What exactly is natural and normal inside him?” and running that off-course becomes interesting. Still, this is something all the sextuplets do. […]

With this eighteen year old Choromatsu, there was no other way than to specialize in “Choromatsu-likeness” and exaggerate it. The other sextuplets’ personalities went off-course in the crazy direction of hard to imagine yet easy to understand. For Choromatsu, it is instead the course of action he has taken and shown until now, and taking part of it to specialize it.

----

In this movie adaptation, the eighteen year old sextuplets appear, but what do you feel about the high school days of the sextuplets?

FUKUYAMA: I, personally, didn’t have any concerns or anxieties. The ones who will have the most trouble are probably the other five (laughs). I don’t know when the sextuplets gain their individualities, but when I saw the setting for eighteen year old Ichimatsu, I went, yeah, that’s what I thought. I was able to accept it immediately.

At first glance, the eighteen year old sextuplets look weird, but truthfully everyone traces to their present selves. There are elements of surprise, but I thought there wasn’t anything mysterious.

When I look at the eighteen year old sextuplets, I can see Osomatsu hasn’t changed from his present self. For Karamatsu, in my opinion, he can be the most considerate out of the sextuplets. That’s why I feel his past self can have that kind of atmosphere, so it wasn’t strange.

As for Choromatsu, he’s gone to it’s only inevitable!—or rather, his self-awareness will only go in the wrong direction now (laughs). Pondering about Jyushimatsu is a waste of time, so let’s just leave it behind (laughs). Todomatsu is part of the sextuplets yet the only one whose growth is slow.

Every single one of the sextuplets stands out oddly, but I feel they do actually connect to the present.

And for Ichimatsu, he had been dissed by Todomatsu in the past for being a normal person pretending to be crazy. It is exactly that, I feel. Before Ichimatsu pretended to be crazy, I feel he was a normal person.

----

Now then, could you let me hear your impressions of each of the eighteen year old sextuplets?

ONO: The one who makes the most sense to me out of the six was Jyushimatsu. While I do think eighteen year old Jyushimatsu went the strangest direction out of the sextuplets, I was able to easily accept that Jyushimatsu was a delinquent before. That’s why adult Jyushimatsu grew up to be that innocent and simple-minded and doesn’t seem to actually be conversing with anyone—turns out he really isn’t! I thought.

In contrast, if adult Jyushimatsu was the past connecting a path to eighteen year old Jyushimatsu, I honestly feel it’ll be unnatural. I’m sure Jyushimatsu had a lot of thoughts inside him and changed himself in many ways before settling down to the present adult Jyushimatsu now. It’s very nice to see Jyushimatsu has shaken free. As I mentioned before, I feel Jyushimatsu is the most sensitive, which is why he became how he is in the present. It starts with noticing the differences between himself and his surroundings and it connects from there. […]

Then how about the other five?

ONO: First, I feel like I can see the shards of shittiness in eighteen year old Osomatsu-niisan (laughs). In that he hasn’t changed from the present Osomatsu. He’s forever a shitbag, and … As for my impression, I feel his, “I am the oldest!” is even stronger than the present. For Karamatsu, he is the cutest of the six. Karamatsu, too, has differences between the past and present, but I feel there is a path between the two. The connecting path is “no confidence,” I feel. It is because Karamatsu has no confidence that he puts on airs, tries to show off, and acts like a really dandy man with a great voice. However, in the end, Karamatsu is timid. And taking this timidness as an essence and holding it out in all directions is the eighteen year old Karamatsu. […]

Eighteen year old Choromatsu is the most funny out of the past sextuplets (laughs). He has the most individuality out of them. […]

While eighteen year old Jyushimatsu made the most sense, Ichimatsu also made sense to me. Unlike the present, Ichimatsu doesn’t mumble and could communicate properly, which made me think yeah, that’s what I thought. But I feel adult Ichimatsu actually has the ability to analyze what he’s feeling and turn what he’s thinking into words. He is able to analyze himself and other people to the very depths, so you can see his communication skills are quite high, and he’s a good person.

Totty is just nothing but cuteness (laughs). His cuteness is different from Karamatsu’s and is a natural-born cuteness. If only he didn’t grow. I felt the most disappointed. Ahhh~ … or something like that (laughs).

#osomatsu #osomatsu san #ososan #osomatsu san the movie #eiga no osomatsu san #squishes the non-niisan interviews into one post because i'm an asshole (i'm kidding its bc they're all a bit shorter than sakurai-san's)#i love reading interviews.....#meta

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silvercrystalwhump · 3 years

Text

Silence and Milkshakes

TW: dehumanizing whumpee, General bbu warning, implied past noncon, tired and stressed boy

The engine of the old, filthy truck hums with a low drone; something clicks around in the hood. It could be nothing, or it could be something terrible. Flynn isn’t planning on checking it now. It is a nice distraction from the aching throb in his side. Silently, he rubs his fingers on the worn leather steering wheel, just barely cooler than the surface of the sun. When he first bought this car, he hated the way the leather stuck to his hands and made driving a lifetime commitment, but now it only resonates warmth through the calluses of his fingers.

The radio is turned down; it broke and is now stuck on an old jazz station saturated in static. Flynn can tell what the artist is through the grinding of the static, he thinks it’s Miles Davis, but Flynn was more likely to guess the winning lottery numbers than guess the song currently playing. Flynn taps lightly on the brake as he approaches a light. Yellow lights glare down at him from its pole. As the car rolls to a stop, Flynn glances at his passenger seat.

Kai is sitting there. Yesterday, Flynn gave him one of his hoodies for comfort while he was at school. Unfortunately, the high school hoodie permanently acquired the faint smell of cigarette smoke years ago. Kai sits as straight as a nail, eyes at his feet. His hands are perfectly still on his lap.

Position 3.

Flynn presses on the gas, and the car lurches forward. His eyes go back to the road, but his thoughts stay on the box boy. He had read up on some information about box boys from WRU’s website. They are people who signed over their rights to get better, happier lives. Flynn keeps himself from scoffing at the thought. Happier lives, Kai looks like he’s seen some horrible stuff. Hell, he’s been traumatized to the point of muteness. Flynn had triple-checked his medical records for anything that would render him mute, but he found nothing.

Why willingly put yourself through that?

Flynn pulls into a small section of town, and he drives the car into a Chick-fa-la drive-through. He wants something in his stomach before he goes and lifts bricks all day from some rich guy. His eyes trail back to Kai, “Do you want anything bud?”

Kai’s bright green eyes look at him. For a moment, Flynn thinks that he’s not going to respond. But, instead, Kai tilts his head slightly, strands of silky red hair fall across his face. Some deep inside Flynn, a side of him twisted by the horror he lives with every day, understands why someone would buy a little box boy like Kai.

So tiny, adorable.

Flynn curses himself and says, "Do you want a milkshake?"

Kai nods silently. His thin fingers pull at the shorts Flynn gave him a week ago. Flynn pretends not to notice; Kai seems to panic when he does.

"Wjat flavor?"

Kai blanks again. Green eyes looking wide at the menus that glow in the early morning light. His eyes grow distant, and he just looks back at Flynn.

Flynn sights and raises a hand. Kai flinches, Flynn pretends to ignore it. Then, he holds up a finger, "Can you hold up fingers?"

Kai nods. The tiny box boy is as tense as hardwood cut against the grain.

"Okay, one for vanilla, two for chocolate, and three for cookies and cream."

Flynn watches the gears turn in Kai’s head. Three pale fingers raise for a second before shooting back to his thigh. Flynn gives Kai a warm smile as he pulls around to the speaker.

As Flynn orders, he sees Kai shift in his seat. Kai pulls his knees into the hoodie and tries to hide his nose in his knees. Flynn notices the boy shivering, and once he finishes ordering, he leans into the partial backseat and pulls out an old quilt.

"I know it's chilly bud, the heat doesn't work in this car," Flynn says as he wraps the quilt around Kai's body. Kai looks with wide eyes at Flynn. He seems to lean into Flynn's touch, no matter how brief the contact.

The drive over, and Flynn hands the woman cash and grabs the food. He sets in it the cup holder area and pulls out. As he drives, he gives the milkshake to Kai. The box boy gingerly takes the cup and holds it. His eyes on Flynn, the entire time, waiting in his eyes.

"That's yours Kai, you can drink it."

Kai instantly puts the straw in his mouth and tries to suck down all of the liquid. Almost immediately, he regrets it. Flynn holds back a chuckle, "You can't drink it so fast Kai you'll get a brain freeze."

Kai blinks at the drink and puts the straw back in his mouth, this time drinking slower. Flynn tosses a chicken mini into his mouth, and he keeps driving.

He drives mindlessly for a few lights until Kai sneezes, ripping him back to reality.

At a red light, Flynn looks over at Kai. He put the milkshake into a cup holder and is now quietly sleeping against the seat belt. Flynn smiles subconsciously and then memories of a few nights ago.

He had awoken to Kai sleeping against his chest. Flynn shoved him aside in a panic and freaked the little guy out. Guilt gnawed at his throat all day after that.

Kai has not tried to touch him since.

Flynn swears under his breath. Why did he put him? There were so many ways to handle that, and you chose aggression.

Why am I so much like my father?

Flynn shoves those thoughts aside. Now wasn't the time for self-loathing; he had the stuff to do. He needs to drop Kai off at Chloe’s and get to work. Gritting his teeth, Flynn pulls through onto one of the highways near his home.

Usually, he wouldn't mind leaving Kai home by himself. Since he got home before his Father, Kai stayed in his room, so even if he did, he would be fine. Not today.

His Dad will have his drinking buddies over to watch the game tonight. Flynn rubs his thumbs across the leather of the steering wheel, anxiety crawling up his spine.

Dad expects him to cater to his friends.

One of those friends is Morrie Mitchell.

Flynn holds back a gag as he pulls into the shopping district of the town. A small bakery with its backlights on sits off to the right. Flynn, with white knuckles, pulls into the back parking.

Putting the car in park, Flynn sets his head on the steering wheel. Bile rises in his throat, but Flynn bites it back.

Hands, he can feel ghost and across his back. The man's voice is a specter across his mind, whispering twisted sweet nothings. He wants to hide away from a voice and hands that are not there.

Tap tap.

Flynn rips his head up and locks eyes with Worried dark eyes. He sighs and opens the door; Chloe stands out in the dawn light. The golden light crosses her face and makes her skin look like golden chocolate.

"Sorry," Flynn says, "I'm just out of it this morning."

Chloe smiles, "Not an issue, I have coffee inside if you want some."

Flynn nods, "Yeah, thanks."

Hopping out of the car, he walks over to the car’s passenger side and opens the door.

Kai stirs. He wakes up and looks at Flynn, confusion and worry across his face.

"Hey bud," Flynn says calmly, "Chloes going to watch you while I'm at work today."

Chloe walks up behind him and wakes at Kai. Flynn guides Kai out by the hand. Kai hops out of the car and lands next to Flynn. Chloe looks down at Kai’s hands and says, "Hd drew on his hands."

Kai freezes and starts to shake. Flynn mentally curses and tries to soothe him, "Its alright bud, it's okay."

Flynn reaches into the car and grabs Kai’s milkshake. Then, leaning into the back of the truck, his fingers wrap around an old math notebook. He hands both to Kai and says, "How about the draw in here okay?"

Kai nods profusely, his eyes begging out apologies. Flynn guides Kai towards the bakery.

Chloe trots out in front of them and opens the door. She steps into a sitting area in the back for the staff that's linked to the pantry.

"I explained the situation to Ma as you explained to me and she's perfectly fine with him staying here."

"Thank you Chloe," Flynn yawns, "I seriously cant thank you enough."

Chloe smiles, "Dont mention it."

She turns to Kai, who holds his things in a death grip, "How are you Kai."

Kai just steps behind Flynn and inches as close to him as possible.

"He doesn't speak," Flynn says softly as he leads Kai over to the worn couch, "He'll listen to you though."

"Mute or nonverbal?"

"I don't know, he just doesn't talk."

Kai sips on his milkshake and bundles in both the quilt and the jacket.

Flynn walks towards the door and pulls out his wallet. Before he can pull out a twenty, Chloe shakes her head, "Flynn, you and I both know you need every penny, see this as a favor from a friend."

"Are you sure, I really don't want to put a burden on you all."

Chloe gives Flynn a look worth an entire essay; we both know you'll need it to escape.

Flynn pierces his lips and nods. He turns back to Kai and says gently, "You can draw back here; let Chloe know if you need anything.

Kai nods sleepily.

Flynn turns to Chloe, "Just remember to give him lunch around noonish and check on on him every so often, if you show him where stuff is hell usually take care of himself."

"Aye aye captian."

Flynn chuckles and waves to Kai. Kai blinks back at him and continues drinking his milkshake.

Flynn hops in his car and drives off to work. But, he still could not stop thinking about Kai.

#flynn #kai #box boy whump #box boy au #whump #whump community #box boy #box boy universe

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

Text

ipsum exitio (pt. 1)

a/n: for reasons explained here, this fic will be released in 2 parts! i want to thank everyone again who’s expressed an interest in this, and i hope that it lives up to some expectation. this fic is really big on introspection and includes a lot of arguably necessary exposition.

but more importantly, i want to thank @/a-kaashi (raenah) for being a huge support and my beta for this piece. she’s put in so much effort and thoughts into helping me make this into what it is now, and i can’t thank her enough.

plot: self-destruction is in the calm before the storm, in the eye of a hurricane. but when the forces are right, the winds are rapid enough, the catalysts send you hurling, you find yourself leaving a monstrous and disastrous path in your wake.

characters: ushijima wakatoshi, semi eita, iwaizumi hajime (in pt. 2), and male oc, w/fem!reader possessing vagina/uterus/uterine-system (other oc’s also included)

wc: 16.5k

genre/warnings: (+18) slice of life, angst, descriptions and moments of high anxiety, explicit smut (in pt. 2) (w/slight degradation, size kink, spanking, etc.) & virginity loss, alcohol consumption, talks about virginity and sex toys, slow burn, pining, implied bisexual reader

pt. 2

A breeze flows in through the open window of your apartment, softly caressing your face as you lean against the sill on your elbows. You drink in the view of Tokyo at night like a fine wine sliding down your throat, attuning to all your senses. With tear ducts dry and dust caked along the rims of your eyes, they shut in defeat, the semblance of a white flag splayed on the back of your eyelids. Cars honk in the distance and your legs struggle to support your weight. The scent of sulfur from the earlier downpour teases at your nostrils, causing your nose to scrunch a bit as you openly take in the scenery before you again.

A nearby billboard flashes bright, mechanically cycling through advertisements and never resting. The LED lights paint a picture that you are all too acquainted with, even more so with the man in the frame. Your body is plunged into a lake of bitter nostalgia as your heart wrenches painfully. Instead of fighting against the resistance of the water and gravity, you succumb to the anchor dragging you down, knowing that eventually, the waves will recede, and you will return to shore again.

Inhale. Count. Exhale.

Breathe.

11 years ago

Shiratorizawa is and always has been a battle ground. It was a miracle that you even made it there, quite honestly. The pressure and the overwhelming suffocation of competition filled your lungs and lodged in your airway the day you moved into the dorms and attended orientation. Everyone seemed so tense, so on edge, clutching their folders and packets like lifelines while absorbing all information possible. A stray few seemed more at ease and relaxed, but to you at the time, that immediately sounded the alarms – to seemingly thrive in this environment from the very beginning could only be the marks of a dangerous but powerful person.

What became a source of comfort was the realization that everyone else felt equally as anxious as you, terrified of the hidden lions camouflaged in the masses. And each year, students crippled under the stress and high expectations – if you had to make an estimate, at least 83% of the student body would experience a breakdown during the time of final exams. But in the midst of all this academic madness, this debilitating drive to do more and reach beyond the sky, everyone found refuge in the school’s sports teams. Be it basketball, swimming, diving, volleyball, tennis – chances were someone in the top 5 of their respective sport within the prefecture would be at Shiratorizawa, and nothing proved more freeing than screaming your lungs out for the prides of your school.

Interestingly enough, you had found that liberation in the volleyball team, being able to turn off your brain with a switch and focus on something that had nothing to do with the filled pages of incomplete to-do lists in your agenda. Air batons in hand, water bottle by your side for the inevitable dry throat, you hollered and chanted with everyone else in the stands and watched the opponents surrender at the feet of none other than Ushijima Wakatoshi.

A force to be reckoned with, a skill that was so beautifully and adeptly honed, you understood very early on the massive admiration for the boy. Even only at 16, Wakatoshi had the physique of a grown man, the severity of his complexion intimidating everyone within 100 meters of him. The terrifying force of his spike and devilish spin resulting from being dominant in his left hand left the crowds in awe. It was evident that the coach used this to the team’s advantage, and suddenly, you felt the burning desire to be on the floor. You wanted to sit on the bench, to see his movement from the side and within an envious proximity – no worry for stray balls, only the chance to witness something so athletically beautiful and magnificent.

And even though you were crushed under a mountain of assignments and projects, as well as a whole slew of mini-projects you had given yourself to make your life harder, you were determined to add this on your list. The lack of self-control in pursuing your desires was going to kill you in the future, but this was not the day. So you dove in towards the trenches, filled out an application, gave all the reasons why having you as a manager would be more help than harm, and suddenly, you were standing on the side of the court next to coolers of water bottles.

You didn’t bother hiding your adoration for Wakatoshi, always having had a bit of a soft heart for the strong, silent type. He was a boy of few words, and each one seemed carefully chosen yet also charmingly candid. Most, except for his teammates, were relatively terrified to talk to him, but he was always polite and thanked you for your hard work. Perhaps it was your constant vulnerable state induced by stress that made you more likely to develop your first real crush on someone, to search for a refuge of sorts. Wakatoshi always seemed to have his life together, and it became painfully obvious to the others that you had developed affections for the school ace. Satori teased you endlessly, going as far as scheduling a poor attempt at an intervention to get a confession out of you. Whether it had been out of pity or a relentless amount of pressure from peers (read: Satori, again), Wakatoshi, by the grace of something powerful, accepted your feelings. Nevertheless, he was very clear in pointing out that this wouldn’t be like any other relationship.

“When not in class, I am most likely at volleyball practice. I do not subject myself to public displays of affection.”

“I understand.”

“I will also likely not have time for dates. I am sure you are aware of this with our heavy course load.”

“Of course.”

“But I will try my best to reciprocate some of your feelings. I have no experience in this, as you might know, but all I ask is for your support.”

“That’s without question.”

“Very well then. Are you sure you want to continue with this?” He inquired, his eyes boring straight into yours to search for the answer.

Little did you know that your affirmation had signed a warrant for your soul, a revelation that would only unearth just thirteen months later.

Being in a relationship with Wakatoshi was easy. There was no need for all the overthinking of whether your actions would annoy him or not; or drive him away from you. If he had qualms about how you were acting, he wouldn’t bother with beating around the bush and instead tell you very directly, though gently as well. In the beginning, it was much easier to be quiet around him than to speak; the theme of your relationship would simply be ‘comfortable silence’.

He eventually became more relaxed around you with time, sometimes even voicing his worries and slight frustrations after practice while helping you clean up. Wakatoshi greatly appreciated how you were always ready to listen to him, despite the tremble in your muscles and dark eye bags from fatigue. You even joined him on his morning runs sometimes despite the fact you could only survive a small leg of it, turning back towards the campus when not even a fifth of his distance in. With advice from Satori, he had asked for more details about your day and your life in general, his brain filling in the gaps of the mental picture he had of you.

What once was a mere outline, roughly penciled-in of nothing more than your physique, the more he learned, the more colors he painted in. To him, you were shades of navy and gray with dashes of gold, emerald, midnight black, magenta, and rouge. The final picture was nothing close to artistic, but it lent to his understanding of your overall personality: unwillingly scattered, pained, anxious, yet determined and compassionate to a fault.

Procrastination was your best friend, you had told him one evening on a newly established weekly stroll, especially when it came to large assignments. You weren’t an organized planner – instead, you would let ideas stew and boil in your head, only mental images of the process and final result there until you couldn’t wait any longer to pen it down. Then you would pull nights of just three to five hours of sleep, running on caffeine and pure drive. What was even more frustrating was that you would find trouble for yourself, avoiding assignments by coming up with new unrelated projects that most definitely did not need to be on your priority list.

For example, if you had a presentation due in a week to discuss the 5 main themes of Great Expectations in front of your class, you’d first let all scenarios of it play out in your head. Then when it became too much, you’d go off and do something for the volleyball club that wasn’t on top of the agenda or complete a question set for the Math Olympiads club you were in as well. Considering those were more positive, productive digressions, other times you would pick up another book to read and feel the need to finish, download a new game on your phone, or scour the internet for cooking videos on the best ways to make hayashi rice.

What amazed (and somewhat alarmed) Wakatoshi was that you would pull it all together in the end. Not only were you balancing academics and extracurriculars, you were bearing the weight of your friends’ worries and stress on your shoulders with the biggest smile you could muster, casting aside most of your well-being to make room for theirs, as well as this relationship with him. Projects were still completed, assignments still mostly unflawed turned in, management of their team still in top shape, and being almost a perfect partner suited for his taste. All were held in stride, even if it was obvious to him that after major assignments were completed, you were either smiling less, saying fewer words, or stuck in your head more often. And he knew, as you had expressed one time out of exhaustion and beaten defenses, you were worried that you still weren’t good enough.

So the cycle continued. In waves and a whirlpool, Wakatoshi watched you unravel and tighten, unravel and tighten, unravel and tighten, desperate to prove that you had a place in this academy just as much as anyone else. Time and time again, you had voiced your worries and doubt, and every time, he assured you that yes, you were worthy of your place here. You knew the boy never lied to comfort others, and he knew that you knew this. He began to grow displeased with your mental reservations, finally determining one March evening of your second year that he could no longer continue this relationship with you.

Satori, of course, had protested vehemently. (“You can’t just break up with her like that, it’s cruel!”). Wakatoshi failed to understand the social implications, ignoring the advice from his friend as he prepared for the routine, weekly stroll with you. When he slipped his sneakers on, his muscles remembered to grab his spare jacket as you were prone to feel chilly on these nights. It wasn’t until the end of the stroll when your nose was slightly tinged red at the tip and your figure engulfed in his jacket, did he hesitate at the intersection between the boys’ and girls’ dorms, and Wakatoshi being the blunt human he is, voiced his thoughts.

“I think it would be good to end this relationship,” he stated with no warning, yet felt a twinge of guilt when your face fell and froze into a subtle state of shock. He let you process his words, patiently waiting for your response.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep breaths. But not too deep. Don’t freak him out. How do you stop freaking yourself out? Oxygen. Lungs.

Inhale. Exhale.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, training your eyes to look straight into his right shoulder, tracing the logo of the ICS foot. Hell knows you’re not tall enough to see past it. “Have I been asking for too much of your time?”

“No.”

“…Have I been too clingy?”

“No.”

“Then…what’s the reason?” You shakily asked, tears of confusion beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes.

“…you’ve spread yourself too thin.”

This time, it was only appropriate to look at him straight on. As always, there was no hesitation evident in them, his direct truth bleeding through his retinas. It must have been words that he had decided on long ago to describe your mental state.

“Please elaborate,” you softly demanded, subconsciously hugging your arms at the biceps.

“You’re doing too much. You think you can do it all, but you’re simply unable to. It’s okay, but I think this relationship is one more thing on your plate that you don’t need.”

But you heard it. You branded the image of his words in your brain and read between the lines, running on overdrive as the darkness rapidly ate at you. It was easy for the demons to sneak in with dubious tones, repeating the phrase that you had been fighting so hard to keep buried inside—

You’re not good enough.

Perhaps you had become a burden to Wakatoshi. You had turned into the thorn in his side, something he no longer wanted to tolerate and keep in his life. Perhaps it was expected, you bitterly thought while shrugging off his jacket. The bite of the cold night teethed and gnawed at your skin, but the pain was almost welcomed now. He took the fabric without a word, only feeling slightly guilty at the sight of stray tears gradually streaking down your cheeks.

“Okay,” you sniffled, arms wrapped around yourself again for some vague sense of protection. “That’s fine, I get it. You have Nationals and the Youth team as well – it’s mainly best for you to end this.”

“(Y/n) –”

“It’s really okay, Wakatoshi. I appreciate you being straightforward with me. I’ll see you at practice,” you quickly interjected and turned to trek back towards the dorm, sending a quick but lifeless wave behind you. The shards of whatever was left of your soul trailed behind you like scattered stars on the concrete. Even when your roommate and friend brought your disheveled figure into her arms, they did little to ward off the parasitic spectres in your mind.

You spent most of that night tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep despite the exhaustion weighing down on your eyelids. Your thoughts refused to cease for just one second in its brutal beatdown on your heart, having played back every moment you possibly messed up on from the day Wakatoshi accepted your feelings to the time of separation. The questions began to plague the blood in your veins, your heart thrashing erratically and causing a cold sweat to break over your skin. Gentle, warning waves of nausea churned through your stomach as the anxiety effectuated into its more menacing, ghastly manifestation. You felt your breaths quicken out of panic and screwed your eyes shut – what did you do cope before? What could ground you behind the rails before you fell over the edge and into the folds of a dark ocean?

Deep breaths. Count. Breathe. Exhale. Start from 100.

Inhale.

Count.

Exhale.

Repeat.

You fell asleep before you hit 20.

You stayed on as the manager despite every ounce of your heart demanding you to quit and run, pettily attempting to prove Ushijima wrong. Satori directed empathetic glances your way multiple times for a few days, but you never wavered. There was no time to feel sorry for yourself or accept pity from others, especially as Nationals was right around the corner. Getting away from campus excited you and as much as the trip was about volleyball, the boys looked forward to spending a few days in the capital.

But the championship fell short, and soon, the third year began.

Your roommate was understandably concerned. On top of more rigorous classes and upcoming college entrance exams, you balanced your manager position, math club, an online job tutoring English, and yearbook duties. It was an absolute miracle that you found enough hours in the day to be on top of everything, and you were proud. This not only meant that you didn’t just peak in middle school, but it also meant that you could do all these things and still turn out great. At the end of the day, a sense of pride overwhelmed you more than anything – this had to be your way of defeating your anxieties: occupy yourself until there was no time to think about them.

The months rolled by. Your cycle continued. Shiratorizawa fell to their knees in front of Karasuno. You got into The University of Tokyo. Graduation proceeded without a hitch.

To your naïve, broken soul, the stars seemed to have aligned and the puzzle pieces were fitting. But to those around you, they could only watch as you fell deeper into the massive hole you dug on your own, dirt smudged on your cheeks and hands blistered from the wooden handle of the shovel. You were going to snap again one day, and it would be more painful than the first.

University soon gave you an adequate understanding of what exactly your personality had unfortunately become: self-destructive. At the time, you had only thought it appropriate to disregard your own health for those you loved (and there were quite a few of them) while balancing academics. That fault was one you had long come to terms with: that you gave away too much of yourself. Someone needed to rant at 1AM? Your phone ringer was always on at full volume (unless you were, of course, in class). Someone needed a ride to the airport? You were there, jokingly asking them to bring you back a snack from their travels as thanks. Someone needed to crash at your place for a day or two to get away from a shitty ex? Extra blankets and sheets, as well as an air mattress from home, were all prepared in the cupboard at your apartment.

As demanding as Shiratorizawa was, Todai stressed you out on another level, especially with your business major and computer science minor. On several occasions, Ushijima’s words had rung loud and clear, echoing in the chambers of your mind. “You’ve spread yourself too thin,” his baritone voice plagued you at the most inopportune times of the day (read: when you were attempting to balance, again, too many things).

And as much as you enjoyed the companionships of your friends, both old and new, you began to achingly yearn for a more intimate relationship that would allow you to collapse into comforting arms, especially on days that endlessly dragged you on your feet. The fact that it was only freshman year made your head spin, but nothing could truly deter you from your deepest desires.

You should have realized that this would only result in isolation with nothing but wooden walls, a balcony, and a shattered heart to keep you company.

7 years ago

“I agree,” Sayuri, a senior and close friend from the art department, affirmed when you expressed this romantic aspiration to her over ramen at a nearby izakaya one September night of your sophomore year. “Everyone’s so obsessed with their careers these days, you included,” she jabbed and pointed stained bamboo chopsticks at you, causing your shoulders to flinch and hunch back in some shame. “Buy some alcohol, give yourself some free nights. The only times I see you doing something not related to school is when I drag you out on weekend shoots with me.”

Sayuri was an expressive girl who took the world in stride and captured the streets of Tokyo with her camera like no other. The two of you had met in an interest organization meeting, instantly bonding over similar pastimes and your two personalities just clicked. She somehow embodied everything you weren’t, and you deeply loved her. More often than not, Sayuri was the one to keep you from completely losing yourself, absolutely refusing to let you become a mindless soul stuck in a business suit and wedged between the crowds in a subway, needlessly calculating away to gain more greed and wealth. “You’re too good for that,” she once told you when you had unexpectedly showed up at her door, drenched from the rain and your own tears caused by a string of unfortunate events.

(“You’re at your best when you’re a little more free, a little more relaxed, you know?”)

“But your weekend shoots are fun!”

“Which is exactly why you should do more other fun stuff!” Sayuri exclaimed before she took a sip from her bottle of ramune. “You know what? Tonight. We’re gonna download Tinder and tapple. You’re a hot commodity, and there’s gotta be some decent guy who’s down for a few casual dates. Hell, you might even have a better chance at finding another girl who can treat you right.”

“You’re not wrong,” you sighed. “Some men can be such pigs sometimes.”

“A-fucking-men.”

Sayuri rarely ever went back on her word, and much to your chagrin, you found yourself curled up next to her on her cream faux-leather couch. Her arm slung over your shoulders as she helped you pick out your best photos, including a shot she had taken of you when she begged you to be her subject on one of her shoots. “My professor needs me to practice portrait shots, please please please help me out here?” She had implored a couple weeks ago, and because you could never say no, you had grumbled your agreement before putting on a nicer outfit and some light makeup. You weren’t going to lie – those were some of the best pictures of you by far, and made you look much more attractive than you ever thought or felt.

A bio was set, photos strategically ordered, and you were tossed into the world of online dating.

“This is a really bad idea,” you groaned ten minutes later as Sayuri swiped through the profiles showing up in your pool. “I haven’t even slept with anyone before.”

“Oh honey, I bet half of these men only ever got their dick wet once and came in two minutes flat. They think they’re impressing someone but they’re only fooling themselves,” Sayuri scoffed and then grimaced at a man’s daringly shirtless mirror selfie. “This poor guy needs to eat more; I can see his ribcage! You don’t need someone who doesn’t appreciate food.”

“What if he’s got an eating disorder?” You seriously speculated, heart going out to the possibility of that.

“Well now you make me feel bad after swiping left on him and – oh hey! You got a match!”

“What? Who the hell did you swipe right on?!” You screeched; chin craned to get a good look at the person on your phone.

“Calm down, you don’t need to worry! I have impeccable taste in men! Hey, don’t give me that look,” she cried out when she saw the questioning raise of one of your eyebrows. “Look, he was cute, had a safe bio, and he goes to Tokyo Tech! So he’s a smartypants like you! Guy must’ve been swiping around too for there to be a match this early.”

“So he’s just desperate and I got swiped right on for passing his minimum standards? Am I supposed to feel like I should be given an award?” You scowled.

“Just wait for him to message first. Keep it light and breezy, we’ll see if he’s suspicious later,” Sayuri waved off, continuing with her search for your perfect, laid-back date.

“But seriously, I’m worried some guy is gonna start expecting sex from me,” you huffed, leaning back to lay your head on her shoulder. Instinctively, she rested her own on top of yours.

“You’re really worried, huh?”

“Makes me a little anxious, yeah,” you admitted, fingers fiddling with a stray thread on the sleeve of your old Shiratorizawa jacket.

“Tell me about it.”

“Well...I’m not waiting until marriage or anything. I’m not putting my virginity on a pedestal or anything, I just kinda want to get it over with, you know? I know your first time probably isn’t all flowers and rainbows, but I figured that I’d at least want to lose it to someone I trust.”

“So you’ve thought about this quite a bit then?”

“Have for a while, if I’m honest.”

“Name them.”

“But—”

“Names, (y/n). I gotta make sure they’re good enough for you.”

“They’re decent, I promise. I mean, I just know they’d never hurt me or throw me to the curb after it happens.”

“You do realize that’s the bare minimum, right?”

“Do you want names or not?”

“Okay okay, go.”

You exhaled as blood rushed to your cheeks. To say their names out loud made it much more embarrassing, especially since there was a high chance they never thought about you sexually before.

“Semi Eita, Daichi Sawamura, and…Ushijima Wakatoshi,” you mumbled the last name, knowing Sayuri’s less-than-positive feelings for the guy. She knew the entire history of your relationship with him, not that it involved a whole ton, but she was just overly protective of you.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi?? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Did you not hear the other two?” You squealed, swatting her with a sleeve that you had retracted your arm into.

“Okay, fine, but tell me about them.”

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Can’t.”

“Ugh, okay look. Eita is...he’s a nice guy. He seems a little rough around the edges, but he was always soft with me. Never gave me a hard time until he got replaced with another starting setter our third year, but he knew it was for the better of the team, as much as he didn’t like it. And even though his competitive streak got the best of him sometimes, he just...I don’t know. He’s dependable in his own way, stuck with me after the break-up and would check in on me from time to time. We still keep in touch a little.”

“Find me a picture of him, then tell me about the other guy.”

“Sure,” you agreed, tapping and swiping through your phone, mainly scrolling through years and years of photos you had kept. “Daichi-san is...well, he’s like if Wakatoshi was more emotionally available.”

“(Y/n), anyone is more emotionally available than Ushijima.”

“He softened up towards the end of our third year, okay? Cut him some slack, please. Anyways,” you cut Sayuri off. “I met Daichi-san our third year briefly during the Spring Qualifiers for Nationals. Extremely nice guy, mature, seemed pretty dependable being the captain of a team with some rowdy underclassmen at the time,” you lightly laughed at the memories.

“You’re really into the dependable type, aren’t you? Reliable? Takes care of you? Can relieve your stress at the end of a long day? Do you have a da—” Sayuri insinuated suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows until you finally interrupted her.

“Hey, there’s no kink-shaming in this friendship!”

“I’m just teasing, babe. Go on about Mr. Dependable” she giggled, causing you to roll your eyes as you continued.

“I saw him a bit more when I picked up a part-time job at a local convenience store for a couple months, only because I quit my online tutoring job. It was just before graduation, but he visited a few times. Seemed like it was closer to his house than the one he usually stopped at by his school. It was never busy, and he’d stick around to chat.”

“Oh my god, he was into you!”

“What? No! Like I said, he’s honestly just really, really nice. Did you know he’d buy his teammates buns every once in a while?”

“Oh, for the love of God, you had a crush on him, too!”

“Fine, just a tiny one!” You quickly admitted while batting away Sayuri’s excitable swats on your thigh. “But I was worried he was just some rebound crush, and he was staying in Miyagi while I was preparing to move here, so it’s not like anything would’ve happened. He was funny, too, and always asked about my well-being even though he didn’t really know me. Honestly, he was too good for me,” you said quietly and seemingly deflated.

“Nobody’s ever too good for you,” Sayuri comforted and pulled you into her arms. “I don’t care how perfect they are. If anything, you’re too good for them.”

“You hype me up too much,” you smiled sadly, holding onto her intertwined limbs. “I just...he didn’t deserve to get pulled into my mess. And it’s not just him – nobody deserves to. The last thing I want to do is hurt someone because I couldn’t get my shit together.”

“...even if you get hurt yourself?” Sayuri murmured.

Your silent, solemn answer spoke volumes. Life had turned you into somewhat of a martyr, someone absolutely terrified of inconveniencing others, yet relentless in your support for the important individuals around you.

“One day,” Sayuri started gently. “You’re gonna find a guy who loves and cherishes you to no end. You’re gonna get a taste of the love that you give to others, and he’ll never let you go. He’ll stick with you through everything, and you’ll realize that you do deserve that kind of love. It’s inevitable, really only a matter of time. And maybe he’ll show up when you least expect it. Just don’t give up yet, okay?”

“...okay,” you mumbled, tightening your grip momentarily as a tacit gesture of gratitude. “Sayuri, if we’re 30, single, and same-sex marriage gets legalized in Japan, can we get married?”

“Sweetie, we don’t have to do it in Japan, might as well just move to the U.S. and get married there. So yeah, sounds like a plan,” Sayuri agreed, half-joking.

And she knew you meant it, too.

6.5 years ago

You (jokingly) blamed Sayuri completely for anything that happened on Tinder afterwards.

Many casual conversations turned fruitless, never getting to the level of comfort that you felt you wanted to meet someone face-to-face. The search became more of a pastime than anything, and it became the same old, boring procedure. Reintroducing yourself and your interests for what seemed like the twentieth time existed like an unwanted pill you had to swallow every day, a habit done with a sense of boredom and banality. Sayuri called you picky, and perhaps you were looking too much into it. But you were allowed to have standards, right?

About half a year after your first night with Tinder, you found a person that you felt somewhat okay with. Ito Tsugumi was a junior at the Tokyo Medical and Dental University living in the undergraduate campus. He seemed respectable, understanding, and never made fun of your own interests and likes. The guy completely understood that this was casual, but he still wanted to meet you at least once, take you out for coffee or something and see where it goes from there. And that was perfectly fine with you.

March weather meant it was still pretty chilly in Japan and living by the ocean didn’t exactly help. You were glad that this was just a coffee date, because not only did it mean you could indulge in a nice cup of hot chocolate, but you also didn’t have to worry too much about how nice you looked because all of that could be sacrificed in the name of warmth. If Tsugumi was going to judge you based on your outfit designed for comfort, he wouldn’t be worth your time anyways.

Anxiety coaxed you into arriving at the designated café ten minutes early, shakily paying with your card and almost dropping it en route to the cashier’s hands. You spotted an empty two-seater along the back wall, but not right by the glass window where the frost would most likely creep through. Positioned in a seat so you’d have a decent view of the entrance, you sent a frantic text to Sayuri for moral support because your nerves were absolutely frying at the moment, to which she sent you a Sailor Moon GIF of Usagi throttling Minako before a message that read, “you’re a cute piece of ass and he knows it. flaunt it babe!” Rouge flooded your cheeks out of the embarrassment that was now mixing with the butterflies in your stomach, and luckily you fought it down when the door rang open.

If you had to be honest, Tsugumi looked more handsome in person than in his pictures, and that screamed danger to you. He only had to look around the café once before spotting you and quickly made his way to your table with a smile. While part of you had registered it as a bit of a Cheshire grin, you immediately dismissed it as a product of your paranoia. This was just a meeting with something warm to drink, right? There was no rule stating that a relationship had to come out of this. If he ever gave off a warning sign, all you had to do was run and never speak to him again. Easy.

You stood from your seat, almost entirely putting your weight on the table when your legs momentarily refused to cooperate with you. The grin on his face held firm as you bowed to each other in greeting and you couldn’t help but have a small one of your own. Were you flattered that he arrived five minutes ahead of the original meeting time? Perhaps just a little, but maybe you were sweating the small details too much.

“Have you already ordered? I can get us something,” he offered. Just as you were about to let him know that you already bought a drink, one of the baristas showed up with a large mug of hot chocolate and set it down with a table napkin. You quickly bowed and thanked them before turning back to Tsugumi sheepishly, gesturing awkwardly towards the white porcelain cup.

“It’s really nice of you to offer though,” you tried to appease. “We’re all broke university students anyways, I wasn’t going to make you buy me a drink.”

“I would’ve been more than happy to,” he replied warmly, a sense of adoration in his eyes that seemed far too intimate for just a first meeting. Nevertheless, his gaze made you avert your own to trace the swirls in your drink. “I’ll be right back,” he continued before leaving to order. Good, this gave you a few necessary moments to gather your bearings.

You needed to calm the fuck down. This wasn’t your first rodeo, though Sayuri would vehemently disagree. “Weekly walks around your high school campus don’t count as dates, (y/n),” she quipped in the past, giving up when you, for the thousandth time, defended Wakatoshi and his actions. And you had been very attracted to him as well, so what was so nerve-wracking about this now? Your relationship with Wakatoshi had held far more implications if things ever ended badly, with the same social circles and everything. Ito Tsugumi was merely a dot outside of most of your realms and possessed very little power over the important things in your life. Your focus needed to be on something else for the time-being, like the smell of ground beans with sweet traces of freshly baked pastries, or the faint coffeehouse music playing through the speakers, or the pots of devil’s ivy hanging from the ceiling. Just anything besides wondering if you had stray hairs out of place, or if your makeup wasn’t blended correctly, if your nails looked asymmetrical—

You had put on your best “I’m doing great!” face once Tsugumi was returning to his seat opposite of you. At first, nothing was said and the both of you could only laugh at the awkward shift in air. But when you spotted a faint shade of scarlet on his cheeks, you felt that you could let out a breath of relief because perhaps, you weren’t the only one feeling a little nervous.

Tsugumi was a wonderful conversationalist and an appreciator of comfortable silence. He seemed just as nice as he was in his messages, and when you went on occasional ramblings of something you felt passionate about, he listened attentively and always asked the right questions at the appropriate times. Even when you profusely apologized for talking too much the first time, he only gave you a blinding smile with his head tilted cutely before saying, “It’s okay, I like listening to you talk.”

And your heart was nearly set aflame.

Two hours easily passed the both of you by, with you discovering much more about him: He wanted to be a dermatologist, had lived in Tokyo his whole life, doted excessively on his mother who owned a little bakery near his house, had a good bond with his older brother who was working to be a pilot, was aware of the fact that he came off as a douchebag sometimes, admitted to some said stereotypical douchebag behaviors, and owned a cute little bobtail cat named Renji. Tsugumi eagerly asked for another chance to meet with you, promising that he would buy your drink no matter what. Is it allowed that someone even dares to match your view of perfection? Is he flying too close to the burning star?

You learned a few weeks later that you should have never given him the chance.

And what was absolutely infuriating was that you should’ve noticed it sooner. The sun he was reaching so highly for was not to become the perfectly flawed man, but attempting to attain something out of greed and selfish desires. He was abandoning any apathy for the people he drew into his sticky web as long as they helped him build his wings, and you fell for it.

(“I like you a lot, you know? You’re probably one of the nicest girls I’ve ever met.”

“With your history of partners, that’s not possible,” you laughed softly. “You probably met way more nicer girls, just never got the time to get to know them.”

“I’m serious, though. I think I’m pretty lucky meeting you.”

“…thank you.” But you couldn’t bring yourself to believe him.)

With Ushijima, perhaps you had jumped in too quickly; so with Tsugumi, you made sure to maintain a healthy distance at all times. You were determined to take this slow and learn from your previous mistakes, and while that could have saved you a whole world of hurt, it wasn’t enough. Tsugumi wove you into his life by joining you on study dates, always doing his best to meet you at your university library instead of his, bringing you small snacks you had mentioned liking once or twice, calling you frequently when you were both free to check up on you and ask how your day was, and even dragging you along to meet his mother at her bakery. By that time, only three weeks had passed, and you had become (rightfully) concerned.

The gentle chime of the bell on the bakery doors had quietly alerted the matriarch of the Ito family of a customer’s arrival, and though her face had visibly brightened at the presence of her younger son, hesitation quickly crossed her eyes as they landed on you and the intertwined hands. Minute facial reactions could speak volumes, so you took that glance to heart as something to healthily ponder over, knowing that there must be some reason for it. His mother was nothing but polite, even gifting you an almond croissant when Tsugumi mentioned it was one of your favorite pastries. You desperately tried to pay, almost embarrassed that you were given something for free, but she wouldn’t have it and Tsugumi had to drag you out before you snuck too much change into the tip jar. But after you had bowed and had begun to wave goodbye, another emotion formed on her face and nearly caused you to stumble.

(Minutes later, you had placed it as pity.)

It all came to sense when Sayuri frantically called you the next night, strumming up every possible curse against “stupid, greedy swine in the form of men”, Tsugumi’s name laced between the syllables slipping off her tongue. You had immediately shut your notebook closed, trying to calm her down, “Hey, whoa, slow down Sayuri, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Holy fuck, (y/n), he’s got a fucking girlfriend!”

Three things crossed your brain then. 1) You were glad that you had maintained the walls around your heart, 2) Tsugumi was cheating on his girlfriend, and 3) you were unexpectedly not surprised that something like this had come up. Your dating life had started with a streak of bad luck, and you were pretty convinced that it would strike again, no matter what.

But that hadn’t stopped you from feeling your heart drop to your feet, simultaneously also feeling the breath get knocked out from your chest. Completely speechless, you spent a few seconds processing Sayuri’s words and quickly after, the anger began to simmer through your veins. In fact, you weren’t exactly angry that he had strung you along (due to your guarded, paranoid detachment) – you were more furious at the fact that he was probably cheating on some lovely girl, and even if she wasn’t lovely, nobody deserved to be cheated on. Not even a snake like Tsugumi.

You sighed. “Well, how’d you find out?”

“You said the fucker didn’t have social media? Well I decided to snoop because who doesn’t have social media these days—” “Plenty of people don’t, Sayuri.” “Well, with his looks and his past – again, it’s not a problem that he’s slept around, he can do whatever the hell he wants for all I care AND as long as he doesn’t have double standards – but I figured there had to be something out there. I found an old Twitter account, then found what I thought was his ex-girlfriend’s account but it’s actually his girlfriend’s account, and it turns out, he’s got a newer Twitter account he actually keeps up with. He thinks he might be slick, but the idiot didn’t even put his profile on private.”

You held the phone between your shoulder and ear as Sayuri spelled out the girlfriend’s Twitter handle to you, your fingers simultaneously typing it into your web browser. Another handle is listed in her cutesy bio, saying that she belonged to the owner of this other profile, and when you open it in another tab, Tsugumi’s face stares straight back at you. Sayuri was right – he had done a pretty shit job at hiding this. A cursory look through his tweets and hers, everything you needed to know was there.

She was a first year at a university in Kyoto who spoke highly of Tsugumi, tweeting photos of them two and tagging him quite often, and her friends all supported their relationship. It made you feel sick to your stomach that you had been spending time with a cheater, one who was throwing away a three-year relationship.

“Are you okay, (y/n)?” Sayuri asked through the speaker. You didn’t realize that you had been quiet for the last few minutes, so wrapped up in your thoughts.

“I need to talk to him,” you said quietly as your heart began to race. Confrontations were not your forte, no matter how much your business classes tried to prepare you to be a stronger speaker. It should be easy, like ripping off a Band-aid, yet the idea of calling Tsugumi up and telling him that you had to stop seeing each other wracked your nerves like an earthquake.

“Easy. Call him and tell him to go fuck himself, then hang up and block his number. He doesn’t deserve any more of your time.”

“I know, but…you know I’m not good at this kind of stuff. And I’ve never had to have this conversation with anyone before…”

“(Y/n). You used to manage a whole team of teenage athletes, and I know there were a ton of times when you had to put your foot down and get them in line. Treat this snake like one of them, get it through his head that he should burn in hell—” “Sayuri!” “—and then avoid him for the rest of your life.”

You sighed again and massaged your temples. That’s right, you could be firm, and with Tsugumi who you hadn’t been that close to, it should be easy to just let him know that the act was up. Yeah, you could do this.

“Do you want to keep me on the call?” Sayuri asked, her anger finally simmering down.

“No, it’s okay, I can handle this. But thank you though.”

“Yeah of course,” she replied softly, compassionately. “Are you okay though?”

“Well…maybe it hasn’t fully hit me yet, but it’s frustrating.”

“You can be angry, you know.”

“I’m not angry, I just…” you hesitated, searching for the right words to better describe your feelings. But without control, your throat began to close and choke, salty tears clouding your vision. You desperately tried to hold back the first sob with a hand over your mouth, panic striking your heart at the sudden rush of despair, but Sayuri quickly caught on.

“(Y/n)...” Sayuri cooed, her tone sympathetic and soft.

“No, if—if I’m angry,” you hiccupped, wiping your spilled tears away messily. “That means I cared, even though I told myself I shouldn’t have,” your voice cracked and heaved another sob as your heart took the final twist of the knife. Everything that you had tried doing to prevent the painful effects of possible disappointment were coming to crash down on you, and all for nothing. Sayuri held silent and let you cry out your anguish – she knew better than anyone that you just needed these moments of catharsis, to let all your emotions out before you would try to think logically again.

“God, I’m such a fucking idiot,” you blubbered after a couple of minutes, standing to retrieve a tissue from the kitchen.

“You’re not, really. You give people the benefit of the doubt and try to see the best in them. Usually that’s not bad, but…an asshole decided to come along and take advantage of it. Don’t beat yourself up, okay?”

“I’ll try but…fuck, it’s so embarrassing to think about it now. All the signs were probably there, right? And I just believed everything he told me,” you sniffled, setting your phone down with the speaker on as you blew your nose.

“I’ll be there in the next hour or so,” she stated resolutely, and you could hear her moving around her apartment.

“Sayuri, you don’t—”

“Don’t be silly, (y/n). It’s not a good time to be alone now, okay? You want me to pick anything up from that convenience store by the station?”

You had let out another mucus-y sniffle, eyes roaming over the cabinet door of where your snacks were. “…can you see if they’ve got a bag of that flower plum candy I like? If not, a bag of nori-shio chips, please.”

“Of course. Hang in there, okay? Don’t call or text him until I’m there.”

“Got it. Thank you so much.”

“You don’t need to thank me, (y/n). And look…,” Sayuri trailed off and your ears caught onto her shutting and locking a door. “It’s okay to ask for help, you know? Especially if it’s me, so don’t forget that.”

“But—”

“I know you’d do the same thing for me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then there’s no problem. I’ll be there as soon as possible, will keep you updated. Love you!”

“Love you too, Sayuri. Be safe.”

Click.

Two hours later, with an opened bag of candy in the cabinet and an empty bag of chips in the trash can, sleep came to you and Sayuri in your bed, and you had never felt luckier.

Based on Tsugumi’s calling habits, you weren’t surprised that your phone rang on the dining table sometime around 10AM, the screen lit up with a picture you had taken of him at the library on one of your study dates. It amazed you for a second how easily your emotions could be flipped around, that this specific set of colored pixels had once brought you a tiny amount of fondness and only now twisted your face in extreme discomfort. Last night, you and Sayuri had run through all possible scenarios of why Tsugumi decided two-timing was something to engage in, including his possible thought process behind getting you involved in his life so quickly. At the end of it, two things were 99% certain: you were going to let him explain, and you were not going to give him a second chance.

“It’s like ripping off the Band-aid,” Sara had echoed your previous analogy when talking about your worries and hesitations in the confrontation again last night. “The quicker you get it over with, the better.”

“But it’s the ripping-off that’s the worst part, not what comes after. Tsugumi isn’t one to give candid, quick explanations either. He’ll probably try to get me to forgive him, which only prolongs the inevitable. So it’s…a slow rip, not the kind where you can bite your tongue and yank it off as fast as you can – and it’s more painful that way, too.”

“You’ve got a point,” Sayuri had huffed. “If anything, I’ll be here for moral support.”

She casted you a quick look over her shoulders from the sink where she graciously offered to wash the dishes from breakfast, and your pursed lips gave the tacit confirmation that it was none other than Tsugumi on the phone. One quick sigh later, you swiped the green pick-up button, activated the speaker, and answered, “Hello?”

“G’morning, (y/n)! How are you? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you replied softly, wanting to stay calm and collected. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I was just a little worried since you said you were tired so early last night. It’s not like you to sleep before 11PM. Did anything happen?”

You discretely scoffed to yourself, hoping that Tsugumi hadn’t caught it. Sayuri rolled her eyes in such a dramatic fashion that you almost burst out laughing.

“Nothing much, I just had a really long day and felt kinda tired.”

“Well, I feel better now hearing that you’re okay. I’m glad you weren’t sick or anything. Did you get a good sleep last night then?”

“It was good, yeah.” But no thanks to you.

“Well, if you’re up for it, you wanna go out today? It’s the weekend and I have some free time before I need to start studying for our next round of exams. Did you want to check out that bookstore on the other side of the city? Or the Ghibli museum over in Mitaka?

“Ito-san, can you do something for me?”

“…sure, what is it?”

You quickly took a deep breath. This was it; this was the start of the discerption.

“Can you tell me why you’re cheating on your girlfriend of three years who clearly has no idea of what you’re up to?”

The chilling silence that resonated throughout the apartment sent shivers down your spine. Sayuri had long finished up washing and drying, and the only sound that was registering was the chirping of birds outside your window. Even then, it was faint at best, and you briefly wondered if Tsugumi had just hung up on you. But an electric rustle and a static sigh convinced you otherwise, and Sayuri’s expression morphed into one that simply signaled, “Get ready for the bullshit.”

“…so you found out then?”

“You didn’t exactly try very hard to hide it,” you quipped while crossing your arms.

“I know, I just…when did you find out? And how?”

“Last night, and how doesn’t matter.”

“But—”

“Why are you doing this? I know social media usually isn’t much to base personality on, but she seems pretty nice and definitely doesn’t deserve to have a boyfriend who’s been sleeping with other girls for the majority of the last eighteen months.”

“You don’t know anything!” He quickly defended himself, but not elaborating any further. “It’s just really complicated…and she’s not what she seems.”

“Okay, so let’s say she isn’t. If it’s been so bad dating her…why haven’t you broken up?”

“We never…got around to it, I guess?” His voice came out sheepish. At least the guy felt some shame in his actions.

“You’re ridiculous. Did you really think you were going to get away with this forever? Like what if I hadn’t found out?” You almost seemed desperate to know the workings of his conscience, simply because no matter what his explanation was, it would most definitely confound you. Were you being too simple-minded?

“I swear I was going to break up with her! I really wanted to – you made me want to finally talk to her and just end things –” This time, you made sure Tsugumi heard your scoff of disbelief. “—and I promise, it was going to end eventually, and I was going to seriously ask you out. I know you don’t believe me, but I’m serious.”

“Ito-san…if you did break up with her, would you have told me about it later on?”

“…no, I wouldn’t have.”

At the end of the day, his honest and unfortunate answer resolved all your doubts.

“I figured as much. At least you were honest with me about it and didn’t bother lying to say you would have.”

“I’m really sorry, I really didn’t mean to hurt you this much. You’re such a nice girl, (y/n), seriously. I’m so sorry and I don’t…deserve a second chance, but could we still be friends?”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you snapped at him. “I was more worried about how much you’re hurting your girlfriend.”

“…oh.”

“Yeah, and while you probably caught on that my self-esteem isn’t exactly the highest, I know that I don’t deserve to be lied to and strung along for the ride or for whatever game you’re playing yourself against.”

“That wasn’t what I—”

“You know what? Fuck being your friend, too,” you bit out, your anger getting the best of you again. “Nobody likes being friends with liars, and I’m not about to change that for myself, much less change that for you. Maybe in like, 40 years when we’ve all moved on with our lives and you’ve become a better person, but if you’re asking to be my friend now after everything you’ve done, that’s a firm no.”

“But please—”

“You need to fix this shit. Do you realize that I met your mom? And I could see it in her eyes – she knew exactly what you were doing, right? She knew you were still dating someone else, but you wanted me to see her for some sick, twisted reason. I’m telling you; I could see it in her face, and you know what it said? She pitied me, Ito-san. I’m sure she’s a nice person, but I bet 10 to 1 that the croissant she gave me was out of guilt, because clearly, I had no idea what was happening. You can’t tell me that I’m wrong, can you?”

“Oh god,” he muttered, and you almost hadn’t heard him with the blood boiling in your ears. “Yeah, she was actually really pissed. Lectured me for a whole hour over the phone that night, told me she didn’t raise me to be a cheater and stuff.”

“Well, I’m not going to repeat it. But whatever else she probably said, I agree with her. Get your shit together, honestly. It’ll do you some good,” you stated resolutely.

“We really can’t be friends?”

“No. But…look, if you’re in some sort of really toxic relationship with this girl, you can tell me, okay?” You ignored the incredulous look on Sayuri’s face, taciturnly promising that you’ll explain yourself after the call when she starts making large X’s with her forearms and mouthing, “Hang up!!”

“I’m not saying it’s okay to be friends – I’m just saying that if you’re struggling with something and need someone to talk to, you can…talk to me. But only if I’m your last resort. I know you have other good friends, so you can’t use this as an excuse to try and get close with me again. It’s not gonna work.”

“…Mom was right, you know? You really are too good for me, too nice.”

“I don’t know about that, but maybe she’s onto something. Don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t. Thank you, and again, I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry, (y/n). You didn’t deserve this.”

“Your apology’s accepted, but you’re not forgiven. Remember what I said: do what you can to fix it now before it all comes crashing down on you.”

“Okay. Then this is goodbye?”

“More of an extremely prolonged ‘see you later’, Ito-san. Take care of yourself.”

“You too. Bye then – I’m sorry.”

“Bye, Ito-san.”

And before the boy received another second to delay the inevitable, you somewhat aggressively tapped on the bright red hang up button. Immediately, your shoulders slumped and fell back into your seat, a breath escaping your lungs as if you had been underwater for the entire duration of the call. Your eyes focused on the chipped paint of your ceiling, vision blurring as you begin to think back on the phone call. Was there anything you could have done differently? Had you been too soft on Tsugumi by giving him permission to contact you as a last resort?

“Yes, you pulled a ludicrous move, if that’s what you’re asking yourself,” Sayuri commented, her own arms crossed in front of her chest. Sometimes, she knew you a little too well.

“I was just trying to be nice,” you half-groaned and half-whined, bending back forward to bury your head in your hands.

“Well, what’s done is done, you can’t take it back now,” Sayuri said defeatedly, coming towards you to pull you into a hug. “If he’s smart and can take a hint, he’ll stay away.”

You returned her embrace as best as you could. The Band-aid was off now, wound exposed to the open air, but you knew it would eventually heal. The only remnants of it would exist as faint memories, the pain fleeting at best.

“I think we should tell the girlfriend,” you suggested to Sayuri. Tsugumi would probably end up extremely furious with you, but not only did you owe him utterly nothing, he never said you couldn’t say anything to her either. So with Sayuri’s Twitter account, an elaborate explanation, a link to a folder on Google Drive with screenshots of your text conversations both on and off Tinder (the ones that you’d have to be in a deep state of denial to think were untrue or simply taken out of context), you completed the task that no person would ever want to accomplish in their lives. As heart-wrenching and torturous it would inevitably be, Tsugumi’s girlfriend deserved the truth and the ability to take matters into her own hands. Had your positions been switched, you would’ve liked for her to do the same.

Hours later in the living room, you made the executive decision to delete your profile and uninstall Tinder from your phone. While Tsugumi might have been an odd, terrible, slightly harrowing experience in trying to start a relationship with someone, perhaps you weren’t ready for one either. You needed to wait until you were more confident, bolder, and had things locked down in your future. For now, any efforts toward desiring and developing a serious romantic relationship would be redirected to your academics and career. That stability had to come first in advance of your emotional needs.

When you expressed this to Sayuri, she gave you a look that seemed somewhat disapproving. Instantly, you began to curl in on yourself, doubt coiling around your heart. “Do you think I’m…overreacting?”

Sayuri shook her head as a small smile graced her complexion. “I can’t dictate how you feel, and if I were in your position, I’d probably be thinking the same thing.” Her eyes softened as she drew up her knees to her chest. “But you know what I said when we first started all this: I don’t want you to give up just yet. What if there’s a really great guy that comes along but you’re still trying to focus on your career? Are you gonna deny yourself and make it a missed opportunity?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, feeling troubled now. “I guess…he’d have to really be amazing for me to even consider it, you know? But who knows, I’d probably do something reckless and end up hurting myself again.”

Sayuri could tell that your anxiety was beginning to get the best of you, the doubts and insecurity once again plaguing the blood in your veins. This conversation had to be postponed for later – because now, your recovery was of utmost importance.

“You know what you need now that you’ve sworn off men for the next few years?” Sayuri started, her tone unexpectedly filled with mirth and suggestive insinuations. The Cheshire grin spelled trouble to you, and you were becoming afraid at what the answer was. Shakily, you humored her, “What would that be?”

Sayuri denied you an immediate answer as she abruptly bounced up from the floor, scuttling off to your room before returning with your laptop. Her fingers quickly pried it open, excitement rolling off her in bright ripples as she gestured for you to type in your password. As soon as you unlocked the device, she snatched it away and took over the keyboard. You warily eyed the screen as she pulled up an incognito window and typed in the website to Amazon.

“What are you doing??”

“Okay, (y/n), tell me. Do you know why sex toys were invented?”

Immediately, you wanted to melt into the ground. Not out of embarrassment per say, as you’ve had open conversations about sex and related topics with Sayuri multiple times, but if you were going to be truthful, this definitely wasn’t the first time she was trying to get you to buy a sex toy or two for yourself. There was no way you made it almost twenty-one years of life without having masturbated before, and you were okay with just your fingers now (and occasionally, your detachable showerhead).

“They were invented because people want to feel good. Do you know how many people on this earth have dicks and can’t figure out how to use them well, but still think they’re a gift to the world? I bet the majority of them couldn’t definitively tell you where the clit is, and I bet even more still think that girls pee out of their vagina. And you know what? Everyone deserves a partner who will take the time to figure out what makes them feel good, especially those with a vagina. Best way to do that is to find out yourself and see what works for you.”

“But I’m fine with what I do now!”

“Just please trust me on this one, okay?? Get a vibrator at least, please?? If you hate it, I’ll treat you to dinner for a week!”

You waved her off. “You don’t need to do that, but you just need to promise you’ll stop trying to talk me into buying more sex toys.”

“Deal. But I really doubt that’s gonna happen,” she sang, typing in a couple of words into the search bar. “I’ll buy it this time.”

“Hey—”

“Consider it an early birthday present! If you want to pay me back so badly, buy me our next couple rounds of curry don and we’ll call it even.”

“I can’t fight you on this, can I?” You asked dejectedly, accepting defeat and waving a white flag.

“Nope!” Sayuri exclaimed, absolutely no shame whatsoever in her voice. Instead, she sounds entirely elated that you have very little say in this, but in her defense, you weren’t exactly protesting. “Here we go – and we get that sweet, sweet Prime shipping. Yes, I know what you want to say—” Sayuri interjected when you opened your mouth with an objection. “Jeff Bezos is a terrible man who’s providing a good service but should distribute his wealth better, but I’m still on that free student trial? I know I’m already going to hell, but I’ll make up for it in the next life!”

There was never a way to stop Sayuri from doing what she wanted if she had her mind set, and this just happened to be one of them. A few more clicks of the touchpad and taps of the keyboard echoed throughout your apartment before Sayuri shut your laptop closed. You didn’t need to hear her confirmation that the deed was done, given the vicarious excitement stretched across your best friend’s face.

At the end of the day, this was Sayuri’s way of trying to comfort you, reminding you that she always had your best interests at heart. Your heart brimmed to the edge with sentiment and gratitude, causing your own giddy laugh to spill from your lips.

Life seemed to resume its regular routine afterwards, as mundane as it can be for a university student. Sayuri had you tag along on her shoots again, then you would return home to finish up some assignments and get your readings done, the lingering smell of dinner wafting around in the kitchen as you scrubbed a pan clean – truly, the only thing that seemed to be missing was Tsugumi’s incessant phone calls. But you had neither the energy nor the apathy to long for them – and Sayuri was right. If he was smart, he would know better than to ever contact you again.

You hoped for all your sakes that he would learn to rewire his brain and think rationally.

Present

It takes you a few seconds to register the rapid knocks against your apartment door, the rapping of knuckles against hardwood reverberating with a sense of urgency. Part of you expected this sooner or later, but you are in no condition to face the person on the other side. The rhythm shifts as the beating of the wood begins to sound more solid, signifying that the visitor is now choosing to lightly bang their fists instead of calloused knuckles.

Please leave, you weakly scream in your mind, eyes screwing shut to combat the oncoming tears. Your figure begins to crumple even more against the rail of your balcony. You can’t see me like this, so please go.

“(Y/n), I know you’re in there,” a deep male’s voice permeates through the wood, though muffled and scratchy. “Please, let me talk to you. I’m sorry, I—” He pauses, a groan of frustration escaping his throat. Your vision refuses to refocus, bleary as you weakly take in your view of Tokyo again. Without a doubt, the man must be ruffling his hair frustratedly, distressed and discouraged.

“I shouldn’t have said that. Please let me in and apologize properly – I owe you that much.”

You owe me nothing, silly. It’s my fault.

Eyes the shade of the earth in the billboard observe you, and you wonder: if seen in person, would they have stared with pity?

It’s time to stop running away.

So with sluggish steps, you make your way to the only barrier barring you from your fate. The two deadbolts slide back and click in place, echoing louder than ever. Your hand trembles in its path to the doorknob, faintly grasping the chilling metal and turning it until the latch pulls back far enough to let the door open.

And there they were, the eyes that held the key to your undoing, that had watched you crumble and fall, that had looked after you in more ways than you could imagine, peering straight into yours. You know them well, perhaps too well, and your knees nearly buckle at their intensity. It takes every part of your being to stop yourself from slamming the door closed, to hide away and escape destiny.

It seems that irises in the shades of olive will be the banes of your existence.

4.5 years ago

It hadn’t taken you much to admit it, but Sayuri was undeniably forgiven for taking the initiative to buy you your first sex toys.

About a year and a half had passed since the whole Tsugumi fiasco without as much as a text from him. The virtual silence made it much easier for you to do as you planned: throw yourself into your academics, prepare yourself for your career, and simply focus on anything else but the gaping yearning for a romantic partner. In the time that flew by you, Sayuri secured her own boyfriend, a charming J1 league soccer player who complemented her well. And even though it was obvious how smitten they were with each other, Sayuri always made an effort to include you in their dinners and hang-outs, so much to the point that you felt a swirling mixture of embarrassment and guilt for how often you were third-wheeling them. You had classmates and other friends to hang out with occasionally, and you weren’t one to always feel the need to be with others. You could handle (and frequently chose) self-isolation to refuel on social reserves – it was abandonment that scared you most.

As per usual for many business majors, you spent a semester overseas to broaden your horizons, basing yourself out of a city in Germany and tagging along with the other exchange students around Europe. New traditions and customs were learned, museums and historical structures explored – though one thing you hadn’t expected to return with was a new portion of your brain designated for the nuances of alcohol. Something that you hadn’t meant to care for in the past now existed as a part of your business identity; you needed to know the different wine glasses, the different brands of whisky, how to choose your drink wisely, which drinks are acceptable depending on the situation. If you wanted people to take you seriously in a world that prevented women from touching the sky, you needed to pocket the things that others would normally take for granted.

Part of you believed you were a better version of your past self at Shiratorizawa – while you were busier than ever, your time management skills had improved. That wasn’t to say that procrastination was no longer your best friend; it had leveled down to just a really good friend. You still possessed many of the bad habits in picking up unnecessary projects right before big assignments were due, putting a little too much on your plate, and working yourself to the bone to get everything done on time. The slight improvement existed in the form of less time spent on them, and you embraced this small progress.

And for many months, life existed on that continuum: Sayuri, friends, family, academics, and career.

That was until you received a seemingly innocuous text from Semi Eita.

A text from Eita was not abnormal in any way – as you had mentioned to Sayuri previously, the two of you had kept in contact over the last few years and remained friends. The text that appeared on your phone on a Tuesday night caused a grin to split your face, and all thoughts of indulging in some “me-time” were instantly discarded as you read his message.

[“I’m planning on visiting Tokyo this weekend and checking out a couple of things for the band. Are you free to hang out?”]

To your surprise, you hadn’t run into many of your classmates from Shiratorizawa, not that you ever tried, perhaps. So that might’ve been on you, but somehow it was much easier to stay in touch with your volleyball boys, despite their shortcomings in reaching for Nationals. You rarely visited Miyagi, and even if you were in the area, it was during New Year’s when everyone would be with their families. Without the heart to pull them away from filial time and duties, updates on your boys came mainly from 4 different group chats and the occasional video calls. Eita asking if you were available to hang out was a chance for a breather that you didn’t realize you needed.

With the adrenaline and exhilaration pumping through your veins, you tapped a response that probably seemed too enthusiastic to be you: too many exclamation marks and too many offers.

[“you caught me at a good time!!! i have a couple of days off before i need to start on my next project. it’d be fun to show you around!! and depending on how long you plan on being here, you’re more than welcome to stay in my apt!!! i’ve got an air mattress and a futon, whichever you’d prefer!!”

“Actually, that’d be really nice. Are you sure it’s not a bother?”

“of course not, semi semi!!”

“I never should’ve told you that you saying that ridiculous nickname isn’t nearly as annoying as when Satori says it 🙃🙃. But if it really doesn’t bother you, I might take you up on that offer then. Going to and coming back from Tokyo in one day is too much, and I was starting to look at cheap inns. This way, we’d have more time to catch up and hang out.”

“honestly, stay as long as you need to!!! like i said, my whole weekend is free :). there’s a cute little place nearby that serves great tekka maki!! i’m also not too shabby at making it either.”

“My favorite food homemade? Satori would be really jealous. And probably Shibaru. I can’t wait to rub it in their faces.”

“i’ll send you the name of the station closest to me, and then i can pick you up!!! actually, just send me your itinerary when you figure it out so i can plan.”

“Once a manager, always a manager. Will do.”

“looking forward to it, semi semi!!”

“Me too.”]

Still riding the high, you keyboard-smashed a text to Sayuri, explaining what had just transpired and how excited you were to see an old friend. At first, she was just as happy for you, until she caught on to who exactly was coming to visit, and immediately sent an “OH SHIT” text, followed by a number of sexually suggestive emojis. She didn’t have to be there to know your cheeks were now thoroughly flushed – in fact, you had been trying to forget the fact that Eita was someone you were trusting your first time to have sex with, and you refused to trip yourself silly to make it possibly happen. Last you remember, Eita had dated a girl for a small period of time, but that was about a year and a half ago and there hadn’t been much word from him about it.

The next few days passed in a blur – as promised, Eita had sent you his general itinerary, and while he was a working man with a band as a side gig, train tickets from Miyagi to Tokyo weren’t exactly cheap. Knowing him, he would attempt to take opportunities to pay you back for your hospitality, and you were going to make sure that this wouldn’t happen. At least, not very often. You made a rough schedule around his own that included lots of down time, if there was somewhere he wanted to go visit himself, time for you to make meals for the both of you, one or two movie nights depending on how long he would stay, and more.

The task was almost overwhelmingly nostalgic, that instead of sitting hunched over at your desk in Tokyo, you were back home in your dorm at Shiratorizawa arranging their schedules in preparation for Nationals. This realization of yours came in the very early Thursday morning, but as you began to recall more and more of your time there, you abruptly stood from your chair and shook your head. Not long after, you burrowed yourself under the sheets, phone playing your sleep-inducing playlist on the nightstand as you desperately willed yourself to rest and retreat to the dream world for at least an hour or two.

Then Friday arrived, and before you knew it, you were standing at the designated train station, bouncing excitedly in the arrivals section. You were excessively tipping your toes to look over the others also waiting. But amongst the incoming crowd, you easily spotted Eita’s signature hair color, the familiar hue of ash blond filling you with adoration, and as soon as he was over the dividers, you couldn’t bother containing yourself and bounded over towards him. With a duffel bag slung on his shoulder, phone in hand, dark skinny jeans, a casual pale blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up[GU1] , his reflexes were quick enough to recognize the human bundle of joy sprinting towards him. Eita’s best memories of you were in your Shiratorizawa uniform, so seeing you in casual streetwear threw him for a loop at first.

The earnest beam on your face could warm the iciest of glaciers, and he easily lost against the facial muscles fighting to form into his own smile. As you deftly dodged the other people in your route to him, his arms seemed to naturally fall open in a gesture that welcomed your inevitable embrace. Eita was pretty sure you squealed before jumping onto him, but his focus had to redirect to his arms so they didn’t drop you.

“Semi Semi!” You happily cried out into his ear over the hustle and bustle, arms tight around his neck as he held you close. He gave you a brief, affectionate squeeze before setting you down, causing your arms to fall. But his hands held onto your shoulders, giving you a quick once over and making his assessment. He always had a soft spot for you back in high school, knowing that it wasn’t easy managing a team of teenage boys who were ridiculously hungry and driven for a common goal. When news got around the team that you and Ushijima had broken up, he always kept an extra eye out for you and worried that you’d continue to work yourself to the bone in university.

But the girl before him seemed different: you seemed brighter, elation and happiness rolling off your body in waves. Your face was a bit thinner than it was four years ago, but perhaps the childhood features had matured over time. Additionally, you were a bit taller, though he still could easily see over your head, and overall, you looked somewhat healthier. He hoped that you were learning to relax a little more and take some more time for yourself, again very much aware of your past self-destructive habits.

Eita said nothing and ruffled your hair playfully, a snicker leaving his lips as you pouted and moved to resolve the new half-made bird’s nest. “Come on,” he chuckled, fishing out his phone to open Snapchat. “I promised Satori a selfie of us the minute I saw you.”

“Well, we can’t have him waiting, can we?” You joked back, hiding half of your figure behind Eita’s free arm and giving your best beam over his shoulder. Eita gave his best half-smirk, half-smile, knowing that Satori would absolutely eat him alive out of jealousy. He took one and let you take a closer peek, but before he could send it with your approval, you reached over and swiped to see what filters could be used. To make it easier, Eita just handed over his phone and watched you add silly stickers, his eyes resuming his assessment of you again. But it didn’t take long until you were handing him back his phone, giggling as he took in your newly formed masterpiece and scoffed while hitting the send button.

“Come on, manager,” he sighed, slinging an arm over your shoulders as the two of you made your way to the exit doors. It took very little effort to drag you with him, not that you were complaining. “What’s the plan?”

“One second!” You exclaimed and tapped through your phone, pulling up the picture of the schedule you’ve made. “Oh, yes! Okay, how heavy is your stuff? Do you mind walking around with it?”

“It’s not much, just clothes and toiletries.”

“Perfect, I was really counting on you being a sufficient packer just like back then. We’re gonna make a detour on the way home – I need to get some groceries for dinner but there’s also this takoyaki stand near there that you just have to try! It’ll change your life, I promise.”

“Can I change my mind and say I want to go home first?” He asked jokingly, but that didn’t stop the narrowing of your eyes.

“You’re just saying that so you can throw our schedule off and make me suffer!” You accused when you spotted the devious smirk on his face, the kind he’d put up in the past sometimes when the ball landed just where he wanted it during a pinch serve. “Fuck you,” you cursed but with no malice at all, instead laughing at his antics. “I will leave you here alone right now and you’ll have to find somewhere else to stay for the night. Let’s see how well you do.”

“There’s this really powerful thing now called a cellphone, and it’s got this wonderful little app that can pull up the map of the world. Have you heard of it? It’s called Maps—”

“You’re insufferable,” you said as you shook your head and made a futile attempt to push him away from you. Eita either kept up with part of his exercise regimen or miraculously retained most of the muscle mass he gained in high school because the flesh at his waist refused to give in when you pressed firmly against it. All he had to do was tighten his arm a little bit to get you stuck against his side, and you knew you had lost for now.

“You lie, manager. Admit it, I was your favorite,” he teased.

“Have you always been this cocky? Just because you have a few people screaming your name during a gig doesn’t mean everyone wants you now,” you huffed.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t your favorite.”

“You’re wrong – Wakatoshi was my favorite.”

“Even after the breakup?”

“No doubt,” you replied with no hesitation.

“I still think you’re lying.”

“Whatever floats your boat, Eita-kun,” you chuckled, feeling quite comfortable under the hold of his arm. “Walk faster, I need to get the good produce at the store before it’s all snatched away.”

“Hey, I’m the one accommodating your tiny steps.”

“Take that back!”

Being with Eita was easy, to say the least. Old friends could fall in line together easily, and there was little to no awkwardness during interactions. He flitted around your apartment like he’d been living there for the past few years, and very few topics were off the table for conversation. You had become more open, a little livelier, he realized. If anything, his previous assumption of your current mental state was getting confirmed over and over by the minute – you were happier, a little more relaxed than how you were during the last year of high school.

As much as Wakatoshi was a good friend, based on Satori’s slip-up of what had happened, he wished you had been let down easier. It was more than a miracle that you hadn’t run away from them, but you were more guarded, putting up nothing more than a gentle, amiable smile most days. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen you genuinely laugh at their antics during practice. Yet you were here now, sitting next to him on your couch and almost full-out cackling at some ridiculous anecdote of his about his roommate freshman year. Maybe your giddiness was amplified by the shot of sake you took just fifteen minutes ago, but that, yet again, didn’t stop him from understanding that things have changed a lot in the last four years.

He likes this current you, somewhat new and improved. More relaxed, more open, more easy-going…this was good.

“So are you still talking to that girl from a couple years ago? What was her name,” you muttered and started snapping your fingers to get the ball rolling in your alcohol-muddled brain. “Oh! Her name was—”

“—Yui?”

“Yes!” You giggled, leaning back against the couch and sipping from your third shot of sake of the night. “I remember she was cute, sad that I never got to properly meet her.”

“It’s okay,” he smiled. “Yui and I were more casual anyways. She ended up moving when she got a new job and we’d be long distance, so we broke things off.”

“When’d that happen?”

“Mmmm, about a year and a half ago?” Eita questioned himself, a little unsure of the exact timeline. “Yeah, sounds about right,” he confirmed and leaned over to the coffee table to pour himself some more sake.

“That’s been a long time then,” you sighed. “Anybody else since?”

“Nope. Things got busy afterwards with the national exams and putting the band together, so I just never really thought about it. But what about you?” Eita asked curiously – had you moved on since your break-up with Wakatoshi?

At first, you hummed to yourself, eyebrows furrowed in a manner that suggested you were struggling to find the right words. But then your face relaxed and morphed into a mix of mischief and embarrassment, small laughs spilling from your lips and he was wondering if he needed to start worrying.

“I did see a guy a couple of years ago,” you began while staring into your cup, avoiding Eita’s gaze. “You wanna know how I met him?”

“How?”

“I…okay wait, do you promise not to judge me?” You somewhat slurred and held out a pinky as a gesture for him to fulfill a promise. He nodded and linked his pinky with your own, interlocking then twisting so you two could stamp thumbs.

“Good, so the answer to your question is…yes, I met a guy. On Tinder.”

Eita wasn’t expecting that last fragmented sentence to come from you of all people and had been mid-sip during your revelation. It was a miracle that he didn’t spit out the alcohol all over your couch, but he choked and had to pound his chest a couple of times as the sake went straight for his lungs.

“Don’t judge me!” You whined, shoving him from the side as he waved off your accusation. A full pout formed on your face and you looked genuinely upset.

“I’m not judging, I swear,” Eita ensured over haggard coughs. “I just didn’t expect that – I thought you were gonna tell me you met this guy at some random place on campus.”

“Once you know the whole story, you’ll be glad he doesn’t go to my uni,” you scoffed before downing the rest of your cup. Eita watched you wince and fight the pleasant burn down your throat, preparing for the possible train wreck of a story you insinuated.

You laid it all out for him, from the very beginning to when Sayuri first got you to download the app up until the last phone call you had with Tsugumi. Eita listened attentively, grimacing, laughing, and frowning at all the right moments. He watched you struggle to verbalize the anger you had felt, the frustration from even being angry to begin with, and by the time you were done, you were exhausted. You simply stared back at him with a lazy, tipsy smile that contrasted all the defeat in your bones and attempted to hide your efforts in pretending that you had completely moved on. Eita could tell, though, that that was unfortunately not the case. The pain had lingered, and you were never going to forget…or forgive yourself.

He released a heavy sigh, placing his empty cup gently on your coffee table and grabbing yours from your fingers as well. Once both were away from the possibility of being spilt, he reached out a hand to you, wiggling his fingers as a tacit gesture for you to grab them. Whether your fingers had trembled from the excess resentment or some personal effect from the sake, the second your fingers interlocked, your eyes began to water. At this sight, Eita quickly pulled you to him with a strength you had forgotten he possessed, repositioning your bodies until he was leaned against the back cushion with your side cuddled into his frame – your knees bent and feet on the other side of his thighs – and one arm wrapped around your shoulders with a free hand intwined with one of yours in your lap.

Part of him had expected you to completely break down and bawl, but instead you released silent tears, occasionally sniffling and wiping them away with your free hand. He murmured words of encouragement into your hair, just loud enough to not startle you but to remind you that he was there. Eita instantly regretted not keeping in touch more, even if Sayuri kept a close and endearing watch over your well-being. But you were engaging in an old habit of yours, the one where you’d put up a strong front to not give anyone a reason to worry, that you could handle things on your own.

Maybe he was feeling a bit lonely as well. The alcohol running through both his and your veins certainly wasn’t there to aid in any good decision-making, and the two combined with your own emotions, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was going for when he gazed down at you, waiting for you to look back up at him.

Your eyes were surely bloodshot by this time, and you could feel the tears slowly dry and crust between your eyelashes. Eita’s heavy, pointed scrutiny willed you to look back at him. Even with your slightly blurred vision and sake-addled brain, you failed to miss the way his eyes flickered down to where your lips were. Naturally, you glanced at his own with alarms softly sounding in your brain. This wasn’t a good idea, but you were two slightly lonely adults and if he wanted to…

Perhaps Eita had become a mind-reader over the last four years. Your heart rate skyrocketed as he leaned down at a snail’s pace, leaving you more than ample time to prevent this moment from ever happening. But it was undeniable that part of you wanted this, that at some time during senior year, you had briefly envisioned a few times what it would be like to kiss the setter.

Just once, to feed curiosity’s sake, to unveil the unknown.

Eita’s weakly parted lips were still, frozen when they gently met yours with the slightest bit of pressure. His shaky breaths faintly tickled your skin and you caught the whiffs of sake and something minty, the scent slowly intoxicating you. Something sparked in your veins, a slow tingle crawling up from the base of your spine, and you nearly shivered. A fragment of your brain registered the tightening of his hand in yours, a tacit and telling gesture of, “It’s okay. It’s up to you.”

You could resolve this in the morning.

You took the plunge, lips slowly moving against his to signal your tentative approval. Eita’s lips were as soft as rose petals, so tender against yours that reminded you of the full moon on a clear night sky. At every step, at every change, he soundlessly requested permission, whether it be with a cautious nudge of your nose with his or a squeeze of your fingers, and you granted the shift in angles, the slow repositioning for a position more comfortable. It hadn’t taken long for Eita to lose himself in you, wrapped up in this new, uncharted territory that you guided him through. He was more than satisfied with just kissing you, now hesitantly straddling his figure, at a comfortable, languid pace with his hands cradling your cheeks.

At some point, your hands had traveled to wound behind his neck, fingers lightly grasping the ash blond strands at the nape of his neck. When you subconsciously tightened your grip on them, Eita sharply inhaled, applying more pressure against your lips and causing you to lean back somewhat from the new force. He searched for stability by trailing his hands down to your waist, his hold tender yet unshakeable. Eita wasn’t planning on going any further, not when you weren’t completely sober to make a choice like that, but that didn’t stop him from scattering light kisses on your cheeks and jaw. Clearly, the alcohol had lowered some of his inhibitions, but not enough as his lips lingered over the span of your neck – his desire to mark your skin, to paint it with hickeys and signs of affection, would only unleash something darker inside of him, something that you weren’t quite ready for yet. Your heady breaths echoed in his ears and he felt you shake with temptation, your head subtly lolling to the side to allow him more room as a tacit gesture of consent.

Just one, he berated himself. Just one.

His nose ghosted over the skin from your jaw to your collarbone, catching the faint scent of what he assumed to be a mix of your body wash and natural scent. His senses found it comforting, grounding, and reminded him just how precious you were to him. You weren’t just a random girl at the bar he thought would be temporarily nice to make out with – you were (y/n), the girl who had watched over him and encouraged him during some of his most difficult times with a sport that was once his life, the manager who cared for him and his teammates to be nothing but their best, the person who the boys would unwittingly go to war for if anyone were to bring you trouble.

So he made that known, kissing the joint between your neck and shoulder, and reveled in the breathy gasp that escaped your throat. Little by little, he applied more pressure, preparing you for what he was about to do. His lips softly sucked on the skin, just enough so his teeth could graze it and nibble. Your hands were now fully entangled in the strands of his air, and as they tightened, Eita became more forceful and meaningful. You were entering a faint haze of ecstasy as he worked that one spot, determined to break the capillaries beneath your unmarked flesh and let the inevitable bruising bloom. He knew how beautiful you would look when he was done, and if he had your permission to, what a sight you would be with more littered on the rest of your body.

When he pulled back and deemed his work sufficient, he placed one last kiss on top of it before gazing back at you. Your eyes were half-lidded and hazy, traces of lust pouring into them as you struggled to even your breath. You knew in your bones that Eita was too much of a gentleman to go any further than this, and you were incredibly grateful. If something was going to happen between the two of you, you wanted to make sure that both of you were undoubtedly sober and fully aware of the decisions made.

Eita leaned his forehead against yours, stealing a few chaste kisses and rubbing his nose affectionately against your own. When he felt you were calm, steady, he made sure your legs were wound tight around his waist before standing from the couch with ease, arms holding you securely to his chest. His feet carried the two of you to your bathroom, placing you on the little counter space by your sink before unraveling your limbs from his figure.

Quietly, he handed over your toothbrush and squeezed out a small dollop of toothpaste onto it, repeating the actions with his own. The both of you tiredly brushed your teeth, somewhat thankful for the minty paste that would replace any lingering notions of the sake. But that hadn’t stopped you from staring at each other during the motions, only breaking the silence when foam escaped his lips and you couldn’t help but let out a tiny snicker. To which he only rolled his eyes dramatically, yet quickly held your gaze again as his own was filled with amusement and mirth, much akin to the look he had given you when you picked him up at the station earlier.

Minutes later, you two were tucked in your bed, facing each other in the dark. Eita tentatively searched for one of your hands, weaving them together once he completed this small quest of his. Little needed to be said as your blinks began to take on a slower pace, sometimes staying shut for a second or two before snapping back open. Your grip was loosening in his, but he felt he knew why you kept trying to get a good look at him, why you were unwilling to let sleep overtake you.

“Turn around,” he whispered. Too tired to question or fight back, you did as you were told, waiting with bated breath. Not long after you had done so, you felt the mattress closer to you divot just a bit more as an arm carefully snuck around your waist. You lifted your neck a bit to move your hair towards the side you faced so that Eita’s breathing wouldn’t be quite as obstructed, and he thanked you for the thoughtful action with a chaste press of his lips against your shoulder. The two of you adjusted slightly to ensure the position was equally comfortable.

Eita felt you considerably relax, almost falling back into his hold. His arm around your waist spoke volumes to you and part of him knew, part of him wanted to assure you that—

“I’ll be here in the morning,” he promised.

Because Eita knew that perhaps, you two needed to be reminded that you both weren’t alone, that there were people out there who desired both you and him; that the loneliness was just a blip in the timeline, and that eventually, your needs to be loved and appreciated wholeheartedly would be fulfilled someday by others than each other. You two could be good together, but the circumstances and other factors weren’t perfect. Maybe in another lifetime, Eita thought to himself.

And just as he suspected, that promise was all you needed to peacefully succumb to the dreamworld, with him following soon after.

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seiin-translations · 3 years

Text

2.43 S1 Chapter 5.2 - Stand By Me

2. ESCAPE

Random girls: oh no the girls are fighting

Translation Notes

1. Koutairen is the abbreviation for the All Japan High School Athletic Federation.

2. Kuroba calls his relatives おんちゃん and aunt is おばちゃん, so yeah

3. Economy class syndrome is “deep-vein thrombosis said to be caused by periods of prolonged immobility on long-haul flights.”

4. Murderer was in English in the original text

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The bridge in the middle of Monshiro Town and Suzumu City was the goal of Haijima’s daily jogs. At the end of his jog, he dashed across the concrete bridge that was shining silver in the scorching August sun, then made a U-turn at that same speed and ran down to the riverbank. “Uwah!” His soles slipped on the overgrown summer grass. He ended up sliding down to a flat area of the riverbank on the enamel bag he carried on his back.

Hah, hah…He lay there for a while, breathing heavily. In the shadow of the bridge, the temperature felt a little cooler than on the bridge. He could feel the dampness of the summer grass soaking into his hair.

He got up unsteadily, put down his bag and took out his ball. He imagined that he was tired at the final stage of the game and purposely began to do one-person passes before he could catch his breath. With an overhand motion, he threw the ball directly above him. He continued to set the ball rhythmically no higher than a centimeter. The sound of the ball being softly flicked echoed in the quiet riverbank for a while.

The concrete piers rising from the riverbank had several colored chalk marks on them, though they were already fading. The marks were used as the attackers’ positions, and he set the ball to them. He spun around and hit the bouncing ball with a jump back set at the exact same height. He turned forward again and set the bouncing ball again. This time he intentionally changed the spot he hit it to. The ball deviated somewhat and bounced up. He then ran to chase it and crouched down and set the ball while he was underneath it. Gradually, he purposefully shifted to spots where he hit the ball to harder and harder places.

Haijima’s sets were characterized by their “speed,” but they were sets that crushed the attacker’s will, or sets that didn’t “allow for themselves to be hit,” so to speak. As the ball moved in a parabolic position, it had time to drift near the top before it began its free fall. If he set a ball that overlapped the top of the parabola with the attacker’s highest jumping point, the attacker could use that time, even if it was only a few tenths of a second, to draw out his power and hit the ball as hard as he could. In order to always have that kind of set, he had been refining his technique by focusing on unparalleled accuracy in ball handling.

Immediately after hitting the pier with a back set, the ball bounced back with a bang and he flipped it up with his elbow, still facing backwards. He jumped up to the high ball and hit the mark accurately with one hand. Technically, he could keep on doing this for an hour or two without dropping the ball. However, his legs couldn’t keep up, his toes got caught in the summer grass and he pitched forward. As he slid forward, he stretched out his body hard and thrust the back of his hand into the gap between the ball and the ground.

Although he connected with it through willpower, that was as far as he could go. The ball was flicked low in front of him and crashed into the grass.

He sprawled out on top of the grass, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. The blue summer sky spread out above the slope pierced his eyes, and he raised his arm to cover his face.

“Shit…”

He let out a curse under his arm.

“Why do I have to do this…”

In addition to withdrawing from the semifinals of the Fall Tournament, the school gave them the severe punishment of refraining from club activities for the time being. It wasn’t that it was settled that they were guilty, but rather that the current situation was completely grey. Okuma said it was in fact because it was grey. If the fact that the scandal was real were to leak through some other channel and the school had received the report but not taken any action, the school would be on the hook. There were several such incidents a year, regardless of the type of sport. Okuma was a little more familiar with that sort of situation—it was the school’s way of protecting itself by taking strict measures, he said.

Since they weren’t banned from practicing on their own during the summer break, Haijima continued to practice on his own, just as he had done when he wasn’t a part of the team. Since he didn’t know when the next competition was going to be, he hadn’t made any adjustments for a tournament, just blindly practicing everyday to beyond the limit of his stamina, much less stopping at the limit. However, even if he practiced until he couldn’t move, he couldn’t see the effect by himself. There was only a growing sense of futility, no sense of accomplishment at all.

What am I doing here all by myself? What’s the point of practicing by myself? There’s no point in this unless I’m in a place with a net and there’s someone to set the ball to——.

Fading chalk marks on the bridge piers. The reason they were fading was because he didn’t have to practice alone anymore before, and because he didn’t draw over them these days, even when they were getting fainter.

---

It had been a month since club activities were suspended. September 2nd, the second day of the new semester—they only went to school for the morning yesterday, so today was the real first day of the new term.

When he pedalled his bike to the station, he saw the train arriving at the station building. He pedalled faster and charged in front of the station, then immediately got off his bike and jumped over the ticket gate. Monshiro Station was a desolate little hut, so the platform was right in front of the ticket gate. He ran and made it just in time through the gap in the doors as they were about to close.

A dark green afterimage intruded his vision and he momentarily felt dizzy. He took off his glasses, wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt, and exhaled. The fan spinning on the ceiling blew a strong and lukewarm wind that ruffled his hair.

I pedalled my bike as hard as I could for just a little bit, but I’m tired…

As he leaned against the railing by the doors and put his glasses back on, he noticed a tall person wearing the same uniform as him standing in front of the priority seats.

“Granny, if you don’t tie it up properly, they’ll all fall out.”

While giving something that sounded like honest advice to the old lady sitting in the priority seats, the person was tying the mouth of a supermarket bag that was filled with some kind of fruit and then putting it on the overhead rack.

“Thank you, young master. I wish my son was as big as you.”

“Your house would get more cramped with people like me in it. My mom keeps saying I’m getting in the way.”

“Well, isn’t your house big enough?”

“Our house is wide horizontally, but it’s stuck verti…”

Kuroba also noticed him and cut himself off.

“Oh…hey, you’re kinda sunburnt.”

I was wondering what he was going to say first, but it was that? He sure has it easy.

Kuroba was dressed in his uniform, a white shirt and pants. There was a rule about ties, but few male students wore them in the summer. A colored T-shirt was showing through under his shirt, and Haijima couldn’t judge if that was cool or tacky because he didn’t have the evaluation standard for that. Haijima was just wearing the white shirt.

The only bags he had was the flimsy school bag designated by the school (it wasn’t designated to be flimsy, Kuroba just flattened it himself), and he wasn’t carrying the enamel bag for club activities. When he clicked his tongue with the implication of Look at you, just enjoying your vacation like it’s natural, Kuroba flinched a little and pouted.

They averted their gazes and leaned against the railings on either side of the door. There was no conversation that would stimulate them, so there was silence. Haijima planned on going home after doing some more self-practice today, so he had his usual enamel bag slung over his shoulder, but he couldn’t bear the weight on his shoulder and put it down on the floor. The single ball, his own that was used for outdoor practice felt terribly heavy.

He might be right when he called me sunburnt… When he turned the direction of his face, he could faintly see the frames of his glasses faintly reflected in the door glass. He had been practicing outside for overwhelmingly longer than usual, so he felt unusually burnt. I spent a lot of time outside yesterday too…so much that I don’t even remember how long I practiced. He wondered if that showed how tired he was.

Even though it was September, it was still blazing outside. However, the scenery of the paddy fields flowing outside the train window had become quite autumnal before they knew it. The growing rice plants were beginning to hang down their ears as though bowing. He squinted his eyes at the dazzling golden glow of the paddy fields reflecting the sun that had been shining brightly since morning. It seemed to overlap with his current situation, where he could only look on at a brightly sparkling world from a dim place, which made him feel even more frustrated.

Their participation in the Spring Volleyball Tournament’s preliminaries was hopeless at this stage. The semifinals would be held at the end of this month, and the two schools that would advance to the finals for both the boys’ and girls’ teams would be decided. Two months later in November, the finals will be held for the right to represent the prefecture at the National Tournament, where there was only one spot for both boys and girls. The Spring Tournament Final Selection, where representatives from all over Japan would gather, would be held in January of next year.

They had completed the application, so it seemed that they still weren’t officially non-participating yet, which was rather like a state of limbo. Even if they were allowed to resume their activities in the second semester, it would be difficult to rebuild a team that had fallen apart during the summer break in less than a month. It would be fine if their goal was to participate—but what Seiin, Haijima, Oda wanted was a ticket to Nationals. They needed the ability to beat all the teams in the prefecture and rise to the top.

What about Oda…he wondered if he had already given up on the Spring Tournament. As the days went by, he had a feeling that he was the only one feeling irritated like this every day, but when he saw Kuroba’s reaction, like he had forgotten something completely important, that worry turned into certainty.

Every time the train stopped at a station, the number of passengers and density within the train increased. Right before Nanafu Station, it became congested like it was rush hour, and the two stood side by side with their backs against the door. The two tall boys blocked the door glass, turning the inside of the car dark and causing the passengers near them to somewhat keep a distance from them.

There was a group of girls in Seiin uniforms chatting animatedly. He could tell from a glance that they belonged to a sports team, and from the logo printed on their bags, he could tell that they belonged to the girls’ softball team.

“Oh, you’re the first-years from boys’ volleyball.”

They seemed to know their faces and called out to them.

“We heard about it. Your club activities got suspended.”

They said in a teasing tone. “Yeah, well,” Kuroba said with a stiffened face and took a step over to him. While pulling his bag to between his legs with his foot, Haijima gave a side-eyed glare at Kuroba. …Don’t chicken out. What’s with that “Yeah well” and that half-smile. Aren’t you the reason why.

“…You, get a clue. It’s thanks to you that the Spring Tournament has become a total waste. We missed out on Inter-High and the National Meet, so this was our last chance to go to Nationals…”

He spat out in a biting voice, with the back of his head against the door glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kuroba’s shoulders jump.

“I, I know that much. It’s Oda-senpai and Aoki-senpai’s last year, and I feel awful about that. But if that’s the case, then you should trust me even more.”

He was just as persistent as he had been a month ago. Haijima had no idea what he was being so stubborn about. Was there anything in this world that required him to stubbornly prioritize it over the Spring Tournament? If it were him, he would say no.

“It’s not just the third-years. Why don’t you think about yourself too? We’ve only got three chances.”

He emphasized “three chances.” If he could, he would do it dozens of times, but he could only go there three times in his life.

The Spring High School Volleyball Tournament had been held in the first gym of the Yoyogi National Gymnasium in Tokyo for a long time as a March tradition, although there had been some changes to the outline of the tournament since it was moved to January. Since elementary school, Haijima had watched those recordings to the point where the tapes were literally worn out (some games were only recorded in analog form, so he went out of his way to have them shown to him on a VCR). He had imagined dozens of times, hundreds of times, that he would be fighting on that orange court—not the multi-sided court they had been playing on until the quarterfinals, but the center court right in the middle of the gym. Ever since elementary school, he had only been imagining that both when he was asleep and awake, only to suddenly realize one day that he had only three chances to actually try to go there, and that truth felt absurd to him.

When he decided to leave Meisei Middle School and go back to Fukui, he thought that with this, he had nothing to aim for anymore. But Oda’s words shone a light on what he had once stored away in a dim place.

“I honestly believe that this year’s Seiin will definitely be a team that goes to the finals.”

“Lend me all your strength.”

Can I really trust him…? If that’s the case, as long as I give it my all, I’ll get us there. After the summer training camp, he was at the point where he was becoming more and more convinced that he could make that a reality with this team, and he couldn’t step on the brakes twice.

“I can’t wait until next year. If this year’s ruined, then we lose one chance. Three chances will become two. And even if we could go there three times, it still won’t be enough.”

Why doesn’t he understand…really, how many years does this guy plan on being in high school?

“Were we told that… You seemed to be attached to the Spring Tournament, but that’s because you’re from Tokyo, right? What’s the difference between this and Inter-High or the National Meet?”

Kuroba’s tone of voice also became a little stronger. What had been sulkiness gradually became something like resentment and lashing out.

“If you wanna be in the Spring Tournament so badly, I’ve got an idea for you. You should go back to your old school in Tokyo and compete with them. You don’t care what team you’re on, as long as you can be in the game, but not Seiin. You’re only thinking about yourself anyways, aren’t you?”

“…? Why do I have to be told that? No matter how you look at it, you’re the one who’s not thinking about the team.”

Their voices, getting louder and louder, attracted attention from around them. The girls’ softball team was exchanging whispers that sounded like “Boys’ volleyball is splitting up.”

“You don’t know the rules of Koutairen (1) in the first place, do you? There’s one where it’s a general rule that if you transferred schools, you’re disqualified from participating in games unless six months has passed. If I transferred to Meisei right now, even if I get accepted, there’s no way I’d be able to compete in the Spring Tournament preliminaries anyways.”

He was starting to feel very annoyed, wondering why he had to explain all that in a place like this. As expected, Kuroba looked as though he didn’t know about such a rule, but he still snapped back, saying, “W-Well, if that’s the case…”

“You want to go back if you can be accepted, right? I knew it.”

“I didn’t talk about that at all. Let me say this clearly, even if I’m accepted, who’s gonna want me as their teammate again? I…”

His voice caught. The words that had congested in his throat were spat out in small chunks.

“I’m…the setter who caused his teammate to attempt suicide…after all…”

Kuroba widened his eyes and became speechless.

That face suddenly disappeared from his vision with a surprised “Oh?”

The train had just appeared at the station and the doors had opened. Having suddenly lost the support of his back, Haijima almost fell onto the platform.

Passengers, including many in the Seiin uniform, surged towards the doors. The current of people pushed him and he jumped onto the platform on one foot, but his bag he had put down on the floor was left behind and he hurriedly pushed his way through the crowd to go back. A large rectangular bag was slumped between people’s feet. While almost getting kneed several times, he reached for the strap and retrieved the bag.

The departure bell began to ring, so he quickly retrieved it and was about to jump off the train, but just as he put his foot down the edge of the train car, he suddenly felt hesitant.

…What’s the point of this whole day? I’m just going to school and killing time between classes, not even doing any club activities, and yet I’m just going to go home tired.

He saw Kuroba’s head in the stream of people heading for the ticket gate. It was like a rock sticking out of the shallows, his height one head above the others. While walking with the current pushing him, Kuroba turned around and shouted something at Haijima, but Haijima turned back and went back inside the car.

He sat down on a vacant seat and threw his bag out onto the aisle. Of course, the Seiin students had all got off at Nanafu, so there was no one else left who was wearing the same uniform as him.

That’s what he thought, but then he saw Kuroba’s trouser-clad legs step over the bag in front of him and stop.

Blinking, Haijima looked up.

“What the hell are you thinking…”

Kuroba, looking a little flustered, was panting heavily.

“Why are you coming back here too?”

“You’re skipping school? What are you gonna do?”

“What, you say…”

He was about to answer “Nothing really,” but then fell silent.

It wasn’t as though he had any destination or goal if he kept riding. But…

He just thought of one.

“…Kuroba. Come with me.”

“Huh? Where?”

Kuroba darted his eyes about.

“Tokyo.”

“Huh? What are you doing there?” He looked like he still didn’t understand yet.

“I’m going back. ——To Meisei.”

***

“…Huh, Yori-chan came back? …No, it’s fine, yeah…I owe you, Uncle. I’m begging you, please don’t tell anyone until tonight. It’s not like I’m running away home, I’m with a guy who knows Tokyo, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Kuroba, who had been talking in front of the station attendant’s office, came running back and said, “I kept you waiting. Here.” He pushed half of the bundle of tickets into his hand.

Fukui Station was in the center of the northern part of Fukui Prefecture and a terminal station where limited express trains stopped. The express train from here to Maibara in Shiga Prefecture and the bullet train from Maibara to Tokyo cost about 13,000 yen for a one-way trip—not an amount that a high school student could afford after making up his mind on the spot, so they had Kuroba’s relative who worked at the station to arrange the tickets for him. He didn’t know if tabs were a thing at train stations, but it felt like it was Kuroba’s tab.

With a humble look on his face, Haijima received the ticket.

“You asked me to come with you, but you used me as your wallet.”

“It’s not like that. I’ll repay you. My dad will be there when we get there.”

“Well, I don’t really mind. Oh, that relative of mine just now is my aunt’s…Yori-chan’s mom’s younger brother.”

“I don’t get it.” The relatives and aunts got mixed up in his mind. (2) Were there really hundreds of relatives related to the Kuroba family around here?

“Yori-chan went out of the prefecture to play again during vacation, but he arrived on a night bus a little while ago and came back to town the same time as us.”

Since the departure time of the special express train was approaching, they talked as they ran up the stairs to the platform and jumped in through the nearest door.

It was a weekday, but the unreserved seats were quite packed. Most of the passengers were in two categories: groups of young people on summer vacation since universities were still on break, and businessmen on business trips. They looked terribly out of place in their high school uniforms, but thanks to Haijima’s enamel bag, which was easily recognized as something for club activities from an outsider’s perspective, they should look like they were going to an away game or something.

Kuroba found two empty seats and took the window seat first. Haijima shoved his bulky bag into the overhead rack and sat down in the aisle seat. The two of them were taller than most people, so it was quite a bit of trouble for them to tuck their legs in.

“The seats are so cramped in limited express. Won’t we get that economy class syndrome thing?” (3)

“It’s only a little over an hour to Maibara. Bear with it.”

“Accused of misconduct, then skipping school in the new semester and escaping outside the prefecture, can my situation get even worse…umm, how do you put the seat down, oh, here?”

As he continued to complain, Kuroba pushed down the back of his seat one notch, and when he thought he was going to rest his back on it, he pressed his face against the window and said excitedly, “Oh, it looks like we’re setting out already!” Even though he had been complaining about his situation, he was completely acting like he was on a school trip, saying, “Let’s buy a station lunch if they’re selling food in the train. I’m starving.” This guy fundamentally has weak self-awareness.

It shouldn’t have been reassuring at all to bring along a country bumpkin who got excited just by riding the express and having to take care of him, only adding to his burdens—but he convulsively invited Kuroba. Even if he hadn’t depended on his wallet, he didn’t think he would have even thought of going if he was alone.

Kuroba made an “Mmm?” sound and stirred, rising from his seat. Haijima was fed up, wondering why he couldn’t stay calm like that, but it seemed that he got a call as he took out his vibrating cell phone from his back pocket. As soon as he checked the caller, he got a startled look on his face. “Itoko…ah, not Yori-chan, but my cousin, Itoko.” “Your relatives sure are complicated.”

He thought he was going to answer, but he only indecisively stared at the message, not even attempting to respond.

“What if it’s an emergency?”

“No…we had a little fight, and she was staying angry at me, so what’s with the sudden…”

Kuroba clamped the phone between his hands and the vibration eventually stopped.

“Ah, she stopped.”

His voice when he said that sounded a little disappointed as he breathed a sigh of relief.

The gravity from the front lightly pressed him against his seat. Haijima imitated Kuroba and lowered the back of his seat down a notch, resting the back of his head against it and relaxing. He slowly closed his eyes and turned his attention towards the vibrations beginning to come from underneath his buttocks and the muffled sound of the train as it gradually picked up speed. He didn’t mind the feeling of being wrapped in a thin barrier, something characteristic to long-distance trains.

It’s been a while since I felt this feeling. In the winter of my second grade of middle school, I rode the express train in the opposite direction…

“Haijima.”

It came from next to him. It was no longer high-spirited, but calm.

“You’re not seriously going to transfer schools, right…?”

“You’re still saying that?”

Haijima answered curtly and opened his eyes.

“If you’re not, then what…”

“Who knows.”

“What do you mean, who knows?”

Kuroba’s voice became a bit wild, as though he was impatient, but even if he said that, it wasn’t as though Haijima had any specific predictions about what would happen.

After that “test of courage” incident at the summer training camp, he began to have nightmares from time to time. He didn’t really hold a grudge against Okuma and the others for their prank. It was just that those people didn’t know his circumstances, and it made him realize that he was still dragging along what happened at Meisei.

It might be that something would be put behind him for the better, it might be that something worse would happen. It might look foolish to be desperate and going out of his way to have his wounds gouged out, but in any case, if he stayed here, then this summer would end fruitlessly in a state of limbo. For Haijima, this current situation where he couldn’t go forward or back was unbearable, to the point where he thought that it would be better to just destroy everything once and for all.

“I thought if I met Souta, it would play out one way or another.”

“Souuuta.”

Kuroba repeated the name in a strange monotone, then cleared his throat like there was phlegm stuck in it.

“Hey, if you don’t mind me asking…what happened at your Tokyo school…?”

“I might as well. I’m the one who made you come with me, so it makes sense for me to tell you. We have time while riding anyways.”

“I-It’s not like I’m curious or anything, okay? You don’t have to talk about what you don’t want to talk about.”

“Don’t get so weirdly worked up over it.”

Although he said that, this guy was someone who paid attention to the needs of others by nature. Unlike him, he could be considerate in order to not hurt others. …Oh, was he coughing because he found it hard to ask? It was then that he realized that the excessively high-spirited chattering might because he was finding the right moment to broach what he wanted to ask.

“He’s the guy who…attempted suicide, right? What kind of person is this Souta…?”

“Yoshino Souta. My volleyball buddy since fourth grade.”

Haijima began to play volleyball when he was in fourth grade. The Haijima family was a father-son household, but his father came home late and he had to stay home alone for a long time, so he was enrolled into a local elementary schooler volleyball club as a substitute for after-school childcare. The club itself wasn’t a full-fledged one, as its main objective was to improve the physical fitness of children, but Haijima became more and more absorbed in it, to the point where volleyball became everything to him before he knew it. Volleyball might have become something like a parent to him.

It was at this club that he met Yoshino Souta and Komukai Tetsuto, and they would later play together at Meisei Middle School. Although they went to different elementary schools, they invited each other to continue playing volleyball at the same middle school, and they all took the entrance exams for Meisei Private Academy Middle School.

“Our coach was named Minami-sensei, who took care of us older kids under the head coach, and the one who told us about Meisei. Sensei told us that it was a powerhouse school in Tokyo, with great facilities, and that they worked closely with their high school to nurture their players over the long term. So we all promised Sensei that we’ll definitely go to the Spring Tournament from Meisei High.”

“Heh…With such a good team and environment…” How did something like that happen? He seemed to want to say.

Why did it become like that, really. When he was in elementary school, everyone got along well. They all looked forward to the days they had club, and there was never a conflict of opinions that created a bad atmosphere.

However, that was probably because their positions were fluid and they were playing volleyball half in fun. As they started to play a serious and strict team, the disparity in ability and physique became more and more apparent, and their old relationships changed before they knew it. Haijima himself probably realized it quite late, but it seemed that everyone distanced themselves from him from the very beginning.

“Can’t you get it up there? If you don’t do that, I can’t do anything either.”

There was a time when Haijima lost his temper because the attackers’ serve return rate was terrible.

“You don’t do receives, so don’t talk to us about anything. If you’re gonna tell people to do something, do it yourself first.”

“If I do the first touch, then I can’t be the setter. If I’m not in the middle, there’s no offense. The left’s job is to receive first and foremost. It’s the job of all of you to connect to me. I’m not gonna let someone who’s not gonna do that to spike.”

Haijima thought he had said something obvious. Even thinking about it now, he was sure he wasn’t wrong in theory. No matter what formation it was, the setter didn’t take part in the reception. However, his statement made the atmosphere rough.

Apparently, this kind of thing would happen so often that his teammates would go online to enthusiastically badmouth Haijima to each other in order to vent their frustrations. Someone’s mother must have happened to see their screen, and shocked by the situation, the mothers overreacted and it reached the coach in the form of harsh advice from the parent’s association.

“Haijima, why did you have to say things that way…? I’m not a teacher at this school, so I won’t delve into it that much, but could you please think over your words a little bit more? That’s why, even though it’d be fatal for us if we don’t have you, you’re benched for the next game.”

The mothers’ cooperation was important not only in terms of funding, but also for training camps and away games, so the coach was probably reluctant to speak out. He decided to temporarily drop Haijima from the starting lineup for the tournament in the fall with the sense of “appeasing them.”

It was on the very day of the tournament.

Yoshino Souta attempted suicide by slitting his wrists.

The direct trigger for this was the fight with Haijima during practice two days ago, apparently.

“MURDERER…do you know what that means?” (4)

“…? Um…what was it again?”

He was suddenly asked a question and gave a quizzical response. He didn’t want to give him a quiz, so he immediately said the answer.

“A killer.”

Kuroba’s seat suddenly creaked as he sat up and looked at him. Haijima only gave him a side glance and purposely continued to speak detachedly.

“I also didn’t know until I looked it up in the dictionary, so I guess they weren’t really good at bullying. Even if they drew graffiti with a word I couldn’t read, it didn’t really affect me. …Until I went home and looked it up.”

The Yoshino incident spread outside the club, probably embellished, and he ended up being harassed in school. When he came to school in the morning, there were words carved on his desk, or his textbooks and school shoes went missing. It was of course unpleasant and disgusting to see his shoes lined up in front of the fence on the roof (which was of course off limits as a general rule). Going to school because he had club activities remained the same in middle school and now. Haijima didn’t have any reason where he had to cling to his classes to the point of struggling to find what he had lost and being treated as entertainment as he did that. Staying home from school was an easy decision.

“So with the end of the second semester, I stopped going to school for a month, and I transferred here for the third semester…and you know what happened after that. …That’s pretty much it.”

The blood drained from Kuroba’s face. It rubbed him the wrong way a little, wondering why he was making that face even though he wasn’t the one who had those things done to him. He understood, though. He’s got that kind of personality, so he sympathizes with me and feels sorry for me. But it actually hurt him to recognize anew that he had been through something that made him be pitied.

“…Haijima. After hearing your story, I have a feeling that you really shouldn’t go there… I think going back to a place like that would make you feel painful feelings again, and nothing good will come of it…”

“You’re the one who started it. You told me to go back to Tokyo right now.”

“Oh, that, well, that was more like tit for tat…”

“Take responsibility. I don’t need you to get cold feet. Because…I might be the one who’s getting cold feet.”

“…”

Kuroba kept stiflingly silent. The passengers sitting in the seats in front of them reclined their seats like they had arranged it beforehand, making it too cramped for them. Still silent, the two obediently bent their knees. The four knees in black pants tightly lined up before them.

A small vibration began sounding at the window. Kuroba’s phone, placed on the window frame, received another message. Kuroba took his phone and muttered, “Ah…it’s Itoko again.”

“Why don’t you just answer her?”

Haijima moved his legs aside to make room for him to leave, but Kuroba shook his head with an “Oh, no…” and pressed the power button on his phone. “It’s fine.”

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#2.43 #2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43: Seiin High School Boys Volleyball Club #2.43 translation #2.43 book 1 #2.43 seiin high school boys volleyball team

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xhanisai · 4 years

Text

Wo Ai Ni !

AO3 / FFN

Summary:

Plagg thought that having his holder moon and squeal about Ladybug this and Ladybug that was utter hell. . He should have realised from day one that it was absolutely nothing compared to his babbling adoration for the heroine's civilian identity and now, his waxing poetry for the raven haired girl as he finally shattered the whole 'She's just a friend' delusion and accepted his feelings for her.

A/N: I am sick and tired of all the work I've been doing for finals and honestly need my break. Anyways, here's a sweet, fluffy fic to get the stress out of my system and hopefully make your day a bit better :) The fic's title is inspired by Hitomi Takahashi's song: Wo Ai Ni (which most of you would find familiar as ending 14 for Gintama) Aaaand special thanks to @Word_Devourer for giving me the idea for the operation's name and thanks to @gale-of-the-nomads for giving me the push to write this~ Takes place after Party Crasher/ Trouble Fête, enjoy! ~(x)~ . . . Plagg thought that having his holder moon and squeal about Ladybug this and Ladybug that was utter hell. . He should have realised from day one that it was absolutely nothing compared to his babbling adoration for the heroine's civilian identity and now, his waxing poetry for the raven haired girl as he finally shattered the whole 'She's just a friend' delusion and accepted his feelings for her. Mm-hmm, there are no words in the french vocabulary that could even describe half the agony that Plagg's enduring right now, right this second as Adrien floated around in his room, hugging the gift that Marinette gave him earlier on at school with a disgustingly hopeless grin plastered on his stupid blushy face. 'Is it too late to go back to napping for a few more centuries or so? Cos I am way too old to be dealing with this fuckery again.' Plagg scowled, feline eyes almost like slits as he slouched on his pillow. He didn't even get a chance to take a bite out of his beloved Camembert! Why was he always the one stuck with the lovesick kittens again...? "-and our hands touched when she gave me the gloves! TOUCHED! I am never washing my hands again~" Adrien wiggled on the spot, nuzzling the soft present against his cheek and hungrily memorised the delectable vanilla scent that lingered on it. "Oh Plagg...did ya see the way she smiled at me? That soft, pretty, beautiful smile? Her lips so glossy and kissable AND mon dieu! I was tempted to just gather her up in my arms and kiss the living daylights out of her!" The blonde teen let out another high pitched squeal that sounded quite close to a kitten's meow and flopped on the bed, his weight causing Plagg and his pillow to bounce up and send the yowling kwami flying. Plagg. Had. ENOUGH. Darting towards the boy's face, fur sticking up making him look like a fuzzy ball, Plagg grabbed Adrien's collar and yelled. "CAN YOU JUST SHUT UP AND GO ASK HER OUT ALREADY!?" The force of the little God's voice caused Adrien's fringe to blow back comically, surprising the teen in which he merely blinked back like a kitten. After realising what he's done, an apology was quick to make way on Plagg's tongue for snapping like that only to disintegrate immediately when Adrien's reaction turned into one of a typical, shoujou, love struck schoolgirl. "I can't just ask Marinette out! She's too amazing...too cool...so awesome...oh man I love her so much! I have to get cooler and be at least half as wonderful as her before I could even dream of asking her out." Adrien was blind to Plagg rolling his eyes like it's the end of the world and kept on rambling, gloves pressed to his lips. "Besides, she doesn't even love me that way...she's always so jumpy around me..." Just as Plagg was about to scold him for being so self-deprecating and maybe give a boost of encouragement, Adrien suddenly shot up from the bed with his fists pumped up in newly found determination. "Which is why I should get better at wooing her! I'm gonna call the boys and come up with a plan to get Marinette to fall in love with me! It will be called: Operation Marry-Nette. What do you think?" Adrien looked genuinely proud of his plan like he's just won the lottery and Plagg couldn't help but sigh endearingly at him. Maybe for the last time, just for him, just for Adrien, Plagg will humour his holder through their terrible love schemes. Who knows? It could be quite entertaining and finally end this tiring love square that has lost its charm many months ago. "You were never this obsessed when you were claiming about how Ladybug and you were meant to be. Were your feelings not deep enough for her?" The kwami settled back on his pillow, stroking his wedge of cheese and glanced at Adrien through his peripheral vision who looked sheepish for a split second. "Don't get me wrong, I do love Ladybug still- but because she's my bestest friend and I admire her so much. It's just not as romantic anymore and a guy can only pursue for so long before it starts to grate on the pursued. I must have annoyed her quite a bit..." "Just a bit~?" "...okay a lot. I deserved all those bops to the head by her yo-yo and I already did apologise to her for being so obnoxious. Anyways, the point is that even though Ladybug is amazing...Marinette is Marinette. Marinette was always there for everyone, there for me. It's like my feelings have been building up for her throughout the whole time and my feelings for Ladybug was the dam. The dam's now broken and all my pent up love for Marinette is flooding all over the place...and I don't regret it one bit." Adrien hugged the gloves again with his standard, warm smile that the God always spotted when Marinette was nearby. "It wasn't easy, keeping those feelings away to avoid feeling guilty about loving another girl. Now, I don't have to worry about that. I can love Marinette all I want...if she wants to have me." Plagg rolled his eyes fondly this time, cuddling into the crook of the boy's shoulder with a fanged grin. He couldn't wait to see the delight and happiness when his chosen finds out that he's been in love with one girl all along and that his feelings were absolutely mutual. ~(x)~ "Oh! A-A-Adrien!?" "M-M-Marinette! You there- I mean hey there! Hahah...longtimenosee-" Not too far away, Alya and Nino watched the scene before them with exasperation as Marinette and Adrien started their daily stammering ritual for the umpteenth time. The model being the new addition. Sure, the first few times watching the two of them become a flustered mess when coming across one another was an entertaining prospect. Now it was absolutely painful seeing the two beloved idiots so stupidly in love with one another, blinding them from the fact that it's in fact requited. And what answers were they given when they attempted to convince said idiots that they should ask each other out? "Ah! Alya-aaa! You know I can't do that yet. Adrien still sees me as a friend so don't get my hopes up. But that doesn't mean operation secret garden is finished. I will get him to fall in love with me!" "Nino!? How many times do I have to tell you? Marinette's more interested in my clothes than in me! She's yet to fall for my suave, meow-tastic self~ Also, operation Marry-Nette is now a go-go. You, Agent Best Man have to make sure that the rose petals are ready as soon as she steps into the art room." Needless to say, Adrien's scheme failed catastrophically. So bad that not even the nerdy model took the opportunity to make a pun about it since they ended up jamming the large fans for a 'wind' effect with the rose petals and thus causing a fire. All the boys from the class ended up with a week's worth of detention much to their dismay and the girls' curiousities. Did Lahiffe even need to mention how Agreste begged for them to keep their shenanigans in helping him woo the girl he loves a secret? Despite the fact that the whole school pretty much caught on? So that's how the bespectacled couple felt like they've aged for like a decade or so thanks to their oblivious best friends who were still exchanging word soup and frazzled gestures. "-no no! You're beautiful- not that you're not beautiful everyday! Oh- erm- agh-" Adrien bit his tongue by reflex and shoved his hands inside the pockets of the designer hoodie he threw on this morning. His cheeks matched the Asian girl in front of him in a raspberry tinted flush. "YOU THANKS! I mean...thank you..." Marinette took a deep sigh before determination settled on her face. She gently clutched one of Adrien's sleeves, letting her dainty fingers brush against the back of his hand and smiled sweetly. "You're beautiful too," She flashed a toothy grin and then immediately speed walked away, leaving behind her gaping friends. A high pitched kettle like sound escaped from Adrien's throat and then he immediately shoved his hood over his head and used the drawstrings to fasten the hole in order to hide his discombobulated face. Alya and Nino carried on gaping as the usually cool model chanted 'Mon Dieu' over and over again, clutching his fabric covered face and wiggling on the spot. "Either things will get much more interesting or we're about to hit the peak of idiot one's and idiot two's stupidity." Alix quipped from the background, joined by a mutter of agreement from the other students. "Oh Marinette just hurry up and marry me already~" Adrien swooned, ignorant to the chuckling crowd as he was still stuck in his bubble. The bubble was mercilessly popped by Kubdel. "THEN GO PROPOSE TO HER ALREADY LOVER BOY!" This snapped Adrien out of his daze in an instant, prompting a feminine squeal from him and his body launching up in the air like a scaredy-cat. Heaving, he clutched Nino who was the closest to him and glared at the short girl before scoffing and scurrying away. His hand covered his face in embarrassment throughout the whole time as the students in the vicinity guffawed at him. Adrien decided that he was going to hide his face for eternity and avoid everyone who's not Nino. Representing the Gabriel brand be damned! ~(x)~ Adrien.Exe has stopped working. No, really. His soul pretty much abandoned his jelly like body and his brain has turned to mush. 'Adrien Agreste has unfortunately stopped working for the time being. Please leave a message after the meow.' Was the only comprehensible sentence that ran through the teen's mind. Marinette was sleeping on him. Sleeping on him! Again!!! Her soft, pretty, serene face hid in the crook of his neck, causing him to inhale the lingering bakery scent of vanilla and strawberries every time he dared to breathe. One of her hands latched onto the front of his shirt adorably, knuckles against his chest and Adrien could swear that the erratic beating of his heart would disturb her slumber. Yet, by some miracle he remained calm and cool on the outside despite his inner turmoil. Inhaling sharply, Adrien willed for his heart to calm down as he bravely rested a hand on the girl's waist before allowing his cheek to lean against Marinette's smooth, silky locks. He took this as an opportunity to study her up close. Marinette had her hair loose today. The long, petal thin strands fanned just below her shoulder and her fringe tickled his neck pleasantly. Her long lashes created a subtle, curved shadow on her cheek bones and had Adrien been an ordinary boy, he would have missed the expertly applied concealer below her eyes. She seemed to get more and more exhausted everyday. His poor princess... "I wish I could just hold you in my arms and keep you safe and happy forever..." He mumbled into her hair, placing his free hand on top of Marinette's which was still grasping his shirt and squeezed gently. Gathering what's remaining of his courage, Adrien puckered his lips and pecked her head, face flaming throughout the whole time. It lasted no more than a moment. Yet it was a moment that Adrien will cherish for the next few decades to come. CLICK. Reflex kicked in rapidly and by muscle memory, Adrien shielded Marinette's body with his, wrapping his arms around her and was quick to flash a dangerous glare at the intruder that dared to make an appearance. The sight of a cheeky Alya and the rest of the cooing girl group, all waving their phones and giggling on the spot drained his wrath and replaced it with shyness. "How much did you see!?" Adrien rasped, unconsciously holding Cheng closer to him, not realising that she was starting to stir. "All of it~ but don't worry Sunshine, we won't tell or show her a single thing." Alya winked slyly, wriggling her phone for emphasis. "It's just going to be in our collection for the amazing album we'll be showing you on yours and Mar's wedding day," Adrien stumbled on his words next, ears and cheeks redder than Nathaniel's hair before hiding his face in Marinette's locks as the girls snickered louder. Thoughts of Marinette in various wedding dresses, floating down the aisle with a loving smile on her face, slipping a ring on his finger as she recited her vows, leaning up as he leaned down to kiss her, all ricocheted within his mind without mercy. It was then that the boy noticed that Marinette was fidgeting in her sleep and panic started to settle in his body. "You evil people...you're waking her up." He hissed tiredly but without any venom and made soft shushing sounds to lull the designer back to sleep. The girls had other ideas however and without wasting a second, they made their moves in sonic speed. Juleka was the first to strike, lifting Marinette up bridal style whilst Rose firmly pushed Adrien back against the library's beanbag in a more comfortable way before the tall girl gently placed the snoozing girl on the boy's lap. Alix and Alya struck next, positioning Adrien's and Marinette's arms so that it looked like the former was cradling the girl protectively against him and the latter snuggling up to him with her arms around his neck. Throughout the whole time, Mylène recorded the entire endeavour with a happy hum. "You should have involved us in Operation Marry-Nette. Look how much more successful we were in a matter of minutes compared to the painful weeks you guys went through with your schemes. I still can't believe that one of them involved you acting out a stunt in order to impress her only for you to fail terribly and bruise your ribs. You should never listen to Kim." The chubby girl smiled, grin only widening as Adrien's blush deepened when Marinette cuddled closer to him in her sleep. The raven haired girl's lips were brushing against his collarbones. It took everything for him to not combust. "Nino blabbed didn't he?" The blonde teen accused. "My babe is terrible at keeping anything from me, boo. But to be fair, it was super obvious from the start. Don't be mad at us~?" Alya pressed her phone against her lips, batting her eyes cutely, prompting the boy to roll his eyes and look away but the way he squeezed Marinette closer to him didn't go unseen. "...m'kay...just send me the pics afterwards please?" Adrien's question was answered with a cheer from the girls. . Nino on the other hand was chased around the school by Adrien with his sabre for ratting out the plans to Alya. "Bro! I'm sorry! PLEASE STOP TRYING TO STAB ME- SOMEONE HELP!" "You broke the bro-code Lahiffe! Now you must suffer the consequences!" "BRO!!??!!" ~(x)~ "...Are you okay Chat Noir?" As soon as Marinette placed a tentative hand on the hero's shoulder, he leapt up as high as his namesakes before quickly composing himself with an awkward laugh. "Kine...I MEAN- FINE! I'm fine...hahah..." Chat's faux ears plastered themselves against his unruly locks as he gripped his tail in front of him with both hands. He internally thanked the Gods (more reliable than Plagg at the very least) that his hair was covering his human ears otherwise Mari would have seen that they were as red as Ladybug's suit. The heroine in disguise raised a brow in worry, lips pursed with confusion. The silly boy has been acting very odd for the past few months. In fact his behaviour right now was starting to resemble a certain blonde sweetheart in her class- 'No! Snap out of it Marinette. Don't start comparing them both again!' The girl warned herself in her mind, shooting down the blush that tried to fight its way to her cheeks and then plastered on a polite smile. "Thank you for saving me and sorry for being in the way. I was trying to get away from the akuma, honest." Marinette fibbed, hoping that her partner would simply tease her with a few puns before vaulting away. Instead, the black cat stammered incoherently. "Oh hahah! N-N-No! You weren't in the way. You can never be in the way, it's never too much of a big deal- NOT THAT I'M SAYING YOU'RE NOT A BIG DEAL! You are one heck of a deal haha- oh the akuma is going that way. Stay safe pretty girl whose name I don't know- IMEANGOODBYE! ADIOS! Gahhhhhh..." Snapping his jaw shut, Chat Noir zoomed away with his staff in hand, hitting himself on the head repeatedly as he muttered 'Stupide!' over and over again. Marinette was left blinking owlishly at the boy's strange antics. The familiar feelings that has been gnawing on her mind for the past half year or so simply grew, causing her to nibble on the tip of her thumb. Yet, she couldn't identify what it was for the life of her and it was driving her insane. "Tikki, first Adrien has started to act like me when I'm around. Now Chat Noir? Have I done something to offend them both?" Marinette pouted at her kwami cutely which elicited a giggle from the tiny Goddess. "Oh no, no no no. I think they've fallen for you Marinette- isn't that exciting? The two boys you love? Flailing around you because you make them so shy and nervous? I can't wait to see how this plays out!" The knowing smile that Tikki had on annoyed Marinette. "What do you mean 'the two boys I love'? I'm not in love with Chat Noir! And them loving me? Impossible. Chat Noir loves Ladybug and Adrien hasn't shown any interest in me other than being 'just a friend'." The face that the little Ladybug wore was drier than the Sahara desert. "Marinette. Are you really going to argue with a being that has existed before time itself about this?" The designer only stared back stubbornly before answering. "Tikki, transformer-moi!" "You know I'm ri-iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight-" Was the last thing Tikki managed to say before encasing Marinette into her standard suit. Ladybug snorted, hands on hips as she tried her best to ignore everything that has happened prior. "Liking Chat Noir as well doesn't make this any easier dammit..." ~(x)~ Adrien tripped over his shoes and fell on his face as he was too preoccupied in watching Marinette (with a dopey smile etched on his lips) chatter with Marc and Nathaniel. He was rewarded with the love of his life helping him back up on his face and cupping his face tenderly as she worried over him and checked for any injuries. Chat Noir pestered Ladybug over and over again about allowing Marinette the mouse miraculous once more or even letting her try a different one as he tenaciously believed that she would make an excellent part time hero like Rena Rouge and Carapace. The silly cat ended up receiving a playful chop to the head and a 'I'll think about it' from his Lady. He never noticed how she was oddly flustered as he was too busy doing victorious acrobatics and dances during the rest of patrol. A student from the nearby lycée took interest in Marinette after seeing her a few dozen times since he was a local at the Dupain-Cheng bakery. His attempt in asking her out however was sabotaged by a group of peculiarly dressed, short 'tourists' asking for directions to the nearest Parisian attraction in their painfully broken and accented English. The boy missed his chance to seek her out when she skipped out of his sight with Alya and co and then gave up entirely as Marinette ended up going off on a heated rant about how she was getting sick and tired of strangers going up to her and asking her out when she's never really acknowledged them. He missed the way the supposed tourists removed the disguises from their faces, revealing Adrien, Nino, Kim, Max and Ivan as they 'Ho ho ho'd away. During his patrol, Chat Noir spotted Marinette conversing with both Luka and Kagami near La Seine, the latter two sporting a fond look towards the short designer. Fonder than usual...Noir didn't like it at all. It didn't help that he knew that the musician harboured some feelings for Marinette and the fencer has mentioned numerous times how cute Marinette was. So, with his usual dramatic flair, Chat vaulted towards them, staff slamming between Marinette and the other two friends and then slid down to their level. His body slightly shielded Dupain-Cheng from Couffaine's and Tsurugi's view as he exchanged pleasantries with a slight bite to it. The trio happily conversed back instead, sending guilt down Chat Noir's spine for acting a bit bratty in the beginning. The guilt transformed into second hand embarrassment as Luka and Kagami admitted that they started to casually date and was asking Marinette for advice on where to go for a proper date to make it official. There was no need for the green cat to make its appearance to start with! ~(x)~ Marinette gave Chat Noir a pleasant kiss on the cheek, thanking him for escorting her home and her warm smile never wavered when he went through his customary babbles. The kitten ultimately gave up speaking, gathering back what's left of his dignity and grasped Mari's fingers, kissing the knuckles chastely before saluting and leaping away. The heroine in disguise let out a happy smile, a soft blush flared in her cheeks as she leaned against the top of the balcony and perched the side of her head with her fist. A few stars twinkled in the dark, clear sky and the breeze was soothing enough to clear one's mind. "Oh Adrien, you poor kitten...now what am I gonna do with you?" Marinette's quiet giggles were joined by her kwami who flew out of her purse and nuzzled her holder's cheek. "Told you he's in love with you. You owe me those tasty triple chocolate chunky cookies with your Maman's special tea." "Oh well. A deal's a deal. I still can't believe he's my Chaton- no, wait. I can believe it. Who else would be my silly, dorky, wonderful partner? Did you see how jealous he looked when he saw me with Luka and Kagami? And I thought I was bad! Hahah!" "At least he didn't get them akumatised like he got Theo once." Tikki chimed. "Oooh! Can you believe that he wrote 'Adrien Dupain-Cheng' on your notebook a few times without realising it wasn't his? And then proceeded to steal it for a day so that he could get rid of the pages he's written on? Plagg almost choked on his cheese laughing about it!" "If he hadn't missed that one page, I'd have never known why he stole it in the first place. Makes that time I borrowed his phone for the day to delete the voicemail seem minor in comparison." "He has a folder in his phone dedicated to pictures of you and another folder dedicated to you and him! His current lock screen is of him and you~! So cute~!" "We're both so horribly obsessed with each other. How is that cute- hey! Stop laughing!" "And his name for the operation to make you notice him; absolutely adorable~" "Pfft. I'll give him that. It's not too bad." A comfortable silence settled between them as they happily stargazed. For once, Marinette didn't feel exhausted or being pulled apart in numerous directions. Figuring out that her crime-fighting, pun loving partner was none other than the shy, sweet boy who sat in front of her in class soothed her heart and eased her mind. Accepting that he was head over heels for her to the point where he turned into a nervous, stammering, hot mess did nothing but fill Marinette with giddiness and perhaps be less harsh on herself when she was in his shoes. He fell for her twice. Twice! Just like she did! How could she not be floating on cloud nine after that? For once, her hectic life ever since she received the magical earrings has hit a calm and Marinette couldn't wait to see what adventures would follow next as she and Adrien would face them on unmasked, without anymore secrets. Speaking of secrets. "Hey Tikki? When should I come clean to him? There's no way that I could keep this hushed. I have a feeling that Maître Fu is aware of everything too with how I've seen him lurking left and right with that stupid knowing smile you both always seem to have on. So it should be alright, right?" "Since the Guardian has given you and your partner more freedom with your secret identities now, it's up to you when you want to tell Adrien everything. Bu-uuuuut...I kind of want to see him confess to you. Maybe figure it out himself. It's more fun that way, no?" Tikki's grin widened at Marinette's rosy cheeks, the former looking away bashfully, eyes sparkling with joy. "Do you think he'll figure it out?" "Plagg told me that he figured it out the day Mme. Mendeleiev got akumatised but ended up having to scrap that idea when he saw that illusion you created to throw him off. Adrien was so sure that Ladybug was you and seemed pretty down when you disproved that theory." 'So he did know it was me...' Marinette thought with awe, recalling how much happier and excited Chat Noir was during the battle, thinking that his Lady was his Princesse. "I'll give him a couple of days to confess or figure out my identity. Otherwise I'll just grab him by the collar and smooch his stupid face like no tomorrow." Tikki kissed Marinette's cheek in response, delighted with the girl's answer as they made way back into her room. ~(x)~ This was it. He was going to confess. Adrien has had enough of the way Marinette's lips would taunt him with the way they glistened under the lights and he couldn't escape the sweet scent that wafted from her every time she moved. It was so much more easier to deal with her when she was flighty and shy! Now? She was so much more sure of herself, bold, coy, dare he say...flirty. It went from squeezing his fingers to reassure him to smoothly kissing his cheeks as a thank you for whenever he's helped her out or did something she thought was 'adorable'. The tight hugs, the hair ruffles, the lip biting, the cheeky smirk that eased its way to her face whenever someone mistook them as a couple and the lack of denial or correction she gave in response. If he didn't confess at the end of the day, he was going to explode! With the help of the founding members of Operation Marry-Nette along with the new members, they have arranged a successful scenario. One that was working way too smoothly compared to the previous hundred or more plans that went haywire in an instant so Adrien kept a look out for anything strange or bizarre. Knowing his lack of luck, Le Papillon would strike now. Luckily, this didn't seem to be the case as he found Marinette waiting for him by the Arc de Triomphe. The place where he asked her to meet him. "Marinette! Hey!" Adrien jogged towards her, mentally patting himself on the back for not stammering. That thought process was quickly wiped away when he realised what she was wearing and how beautiful she looked. Dupain-Cheng was decked up in a simple but stylish red blouse with a high waist, short black skirt. Following her long legs were black tights and black ankle boots that had a red ribbon on the zippers. Her hair was kept up in space buns, also adorned by red ribbons, making her sky blue eyes pop. Lastly, her lips were glossed in a cherry red tint. The urge to kiss them increased by ten folds and all the words that Adrien has taken months upon months to plan and say turned into goop. 'What the fuck!? This isn't fair. This is so not fair. Why the hell did she have to dress up so prettily and look all cute and innocent now of all times? Why now!? Fuck! It should be illegal to be this beautiful! Damn you!' "Hey there Handsome! You said that you needed to tell me something?" Marinette peeked below her dark lashes and fiddled with the gold necklace that adorned her neck. A necklace that he gifted her a few weeks ago. She was going to be the death of him. "...Adrien? Are you okay?" Her hands reached up to cup his red cheeks only to be intercepted by his in an iron grip. "Adrien?" The boy squinted his eyes shut, blush never leaving and finally blurted out his feelings: "Wǒ ài nǐ!" . 'I love you!' . . . A few seconds of silence went by. The sounds of the chattering crowd in the background faded into nothing as all the boy could hear was the harsh pounding of his heart. Fearing the worst, Adrien refused to open his eyes and his ears and cheeks burned with both shyness and embarrassment. Dread began to build up in his heart when he felt Marinette wriggle her hands out of his grip and his shoulders sagged, awaiting the rejection that was clear to follow. His spiralling thoughts were halted by the contact of Marinette's fingers brushing his cheeks, slipping through his hair before getting tugged down sharply so that his lips crashed into hers. Adrien's eyes snapped open for a split second in surprise as a shocked mewl escaped his throat but then the warmth and softness that was Marinette's lips took over and he couldn't help but shut his eyes again. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her small frame tightly against his and he couldn't help but smile into the kiss. Before Adrien could deepen the kiss, Marinette parted much to his dismay but her lips still brushed against his. He got an eyeful of her cheeks turning as rosy as his and her lips darkened into a kiss bruised state. An image that burned into his mind pleasantly. "So...d-does that mean you love me too?" Adrien couldn't help but whisper, lips tingling as they brushed against hers. "Silly Chaton. In China, we don't outright say that! But...wǒ zhǐ shǔ yú nǐ." "My Lady!? Mmph-" The boy was silenced with another kiss and this time, Marinette's words played in repeat over and over again in his mind. Wǒ zhǐ shǔ yú nǐ: I only belong to you. . . . ~(x)~ A/N: I'll proof read tomorrow. N I G H T. And Ramadan Mubarak~

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-11)

Word count: 4.5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: None

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: I’ve been good. I am very curious about what you think of this chapter, though ;)

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23 Shout out to this girl for being so awesome!

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“Oh, look at you. You’re so tired.” Madison rubbed your back as you rested your head against the table in between the lectures.

“She does have a night job.” The stink eye you wanted to give Rebecca would require you to raise your head. She didn’t deserve that sort of effort. All of your thoughts were anyway occupied with how Sam’s trial must be going. You were praying that the poor kid would get off.

“It’s a good thing Civil Procedure class is cancelled for today. You can go home early and sleep the exhaustion off before the party,” Madison said excitedly. If only you could make an excuse out of the exhaustion and ditch the evening completely. The thought of Madison’s disappointed face stopped you from doing that. She really wanted you to come. The least you could do was show your face and then go back home.

It irked you that Madison was so excited for this but the rest of her friends were treating this as just any party as opposed to her party. You turned your head towards her and asked, “So who else is coming?”

She perked up immediately. “Well, it’s you guys, Brad, a couple of his friends and a few girls who were in my sorority.”

“What about your brothers? You have two, right?”

Her face remained carefully fixed in the same expression, though you saw the warmth in her eyes go out. “C’mon, you don’t really think they’d wanna be at my party, do you?”

“They’re your brothers! They’re supposed to be with you on your birthday.”

Lacey gave a high pitched laugh. “They’re both older and cooler, why would they wanna be at their baby sister’s party?”

“Clearly you don’t have any siblings,” Rebecca commented. “Definitely not a brother.”

But I do. I do have a sister, you wanted to say. The words never made it out.

Madison took over quickly, realising that the words were unnecessarily sharp. “It’s just different with brothers, Y/N. They aren’t up into each other’s businesses.”

She was still looking at you uncertainly, worried if the taunt from Rebecca had stung. It hadn’t. You had accepted that Rebecca was mean simply for the heck of it. It was her problem that she was an awful person. Not yours.

You were actually feeling bad for Madison. It was appalling that her family didn’t want to spend time with her. Jo wasn’t your blood sister, yet she dragged you to the one ‘average’ birthday party so she could celebrate with you. And when it came to brothers, you had seen brothers who would die for each other. Heck, even when it came to simple things they would crawl over to be there.

Long after you had reached home and dropped into your bed, Rebecca’s comment kept coming back to you.

Definitely not a brother.

She was wrong.

**************************

22nd September 2008

You knew you shouldn’t have been out this late in the evening, even if getting the printouts was essential. The only functioning printing shop was across the town and you didn’t want to ask Jo or aunt El to give you a ride. Already, you were asking too much by agreeing to live with them. So far they had denied your requests to work at the diner to be a helping hand, too. Asking for anymore would only tip the balance further.

The bylane was empty, not a single vehicle on either side. You walked up ahead, holding your papers close to you along with your bag.

“Hey, Darlin’, where you headin’?”

Three men had appeared at the other end of the bylane, their raucous laughter trailing after them. You couldn’t get a look at their face, however, from the way their silhouettes stumbled against the light from the street behind, gave you the impression that, at least, two of them were drunk.

You turned around and started back in the direction you had been coming from. The street there had a lighter traffic than the one you had been heading towards, but it was still better than having to walk past those men.

“Honey, come back,” another one called. The other two jeered in encouragement. You didn’t dare look back as you hurried along, almost to the end of the bylane. Why did it have to be blank walls on both sides? Their voices appeared closer yet and you took off in the sprint, stopping only when you appeared on the street.

Shops were open here and people were still walking up and down. You broke into a run once more without a backward glance till you stumbled into someone.

“Y/N?”

Dean Winchester’s green eyes were looking down at you, in surprise at first, then concern. “Are you okay?”

“I- I…” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, your lungs out of breath.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, slowly leading you towards the steps of a nearby store. “Sit down a minute.”

He perched on the steps next to you as you steadied your breath, his hands still holding you by your shoulder. “I was being followed,” you said. “Those men down the alley.”

Dean’s eyes steeled and he looked in the direction you had just pointed to. There was no one there. Maybe they had gone back the way they had come.

“Did they hurt you?” Anger evident in his voice.

You shook your head. “I was too fast.”

His concerned eyes hovered over your face, ascertaining that you were truly okay. It was something that Sam did, too. See for himself than blindly trust words.

“Those bastards,” he finally spat.

You were beyond glad you ran into Dean. His hand on your shoulder had calmed you more than anything else.

“What’re you doing in this part of the town by yourself?”

“I needed some printouts to confirm my acceptance. I thought I’d take a walk.” Your voice grew smaller with each word, knowing for sure that Dean would chastise you for poor decision making skills. You waited for him to say something along the lines of ‘What were you thinking?” Instead he gently let go of you.

“You think you can walk?” He asked, none of that judgement in his voice.

“Yeah.”

He stood up and offered you a hand. You took it to hoist yourself up.

“My car’s parked a few blocks away,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

You wanted to protest, not wanting to appear a damsel in distress, but you knew your legs just might give out any moment.

Perhaps he saw it in your eyes or in the set of your mouth. Dean gave you a small smile. “Humour me. I had a rough day, too. Could use the company.”

You were beyond grateful to him for upholding your dignity. You didn’t know many men who did that, who wouldn’t want to jump at the opportunity to play the saviour. Not because they wanted to save someone, but because it would stroke their own ego.

“What happened to your day?”

Dean’s smile widened just a bit. “This asshole supplier came in with a shipment, delivered it at the wrong yard and took up a fight for payment.”

“What a jerk!”

He gave you a ‘I know, right?’ look. “Jackass wouldn’t listen long enough for my man to explain the mistake.”

“Must be hard running a place,” you mused.

“It’s actually a lot similar to running a family.” He looked at you. “You’d know.”

“My grandma had a very small business and she ran the family.”

“Y/N,” he said quietly. “It takes one more than one person to make a family and more than one to run it.”

You knew what he was actually saying, the meaning behind his words. That while gran took care of you, you took care of her, too.

“Why didn’t you ask Jo to drive you to the copy place?” He asked out of the blue, saving you from replying to his earlier remark.

“I didn’t want to disturb her. She’s already so busy running the diner…”

“Jo would kill me if she found out that I told you this, but she worries about you more than she lets on.”

You were taken aback. “I didn’t mean to-”

He clarified quickly. “I’m not accusing you for worrying her. She worries because she loves you.”

“I just don’t want to be a burden,” you murmured looking down. You had reached his car.

“Is that how you feel about being with Sam, too?”

He had cut to the chase quickly, and hit the nail right on the head. You didn't know how to answer Dean’s question without making it look like you were putting yourself down. You knew that if you lied, he’d know that, too. Dean was very sharp and perceptive when it came to people. More so that Sam.

You decided to tell him the truth.

“No, I don’t feel that with Sam. He chose to be with me without any prelude. He’s accomplished so much in life already and I’m so sure he’ll achieve so much more. I used to wonder what could he possibly want with a small town girl like me, but I don’t think that anymore. He sees me as the best version of myself and I’m beginning to see it, too.”

“You’re making him sound cooler than he is, you do know that, right?” Dean teased lightly.

You rolled your eyes.

Dean opened the door of his car for you and then got into his side.

“As much as I would want you to see it differently, I understand not wanting to be a burden,” he said, revving up the engine. You thought back to everything you knew about Dean and it made sense that he would understand you. There was never any judgement there. “But they’re your family and I get that you’re self-respecting, that you’re used to doing things by yourself. But would it be such a bad thing to let others help you once in a while? Do it for her and Ellen, if not for yourself. I know you love them enough for that.”

His words made up your mind on something you had been debating for a while.

“Dean,” you said unsteadily but upfront, “I need money for college. I know I can sell off Gran’s old house for the money but I want to keep it. I can’t ask aunt El to help me with the diner facing financial issues.

You took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I’m asking this from you. But… with you, I feel like I’m with someone I can trust. Will you be the guarantor for my student’s loan?”

His face jerked towards you instantly.

“You can say no if you want,�� you said quickly. “I won’t be upset, at all.”

Dean didn’t answer you immediately. He drove along the lane and turned into Aunt El’s driveway. He turned the ignition off and only then did he look at you.

His eyes were soft and his voice was low. “When Sam was about twelve, he came home one day and announced he was going to be a lawyer. He’s been a smart kid all along, but the look in his eyes… the memory gets to me even now. I knew Bobby didn’t have the sort of money to fund college, so we both worked all the odd jobs we could find to at least start saving.” He laughed as he reminisced.

“Bobby is a stubborn old man. He wanted to pay for Sam’s college. We had to fight it out with him, too and things were somewhat crazy up until this kid scored a straight up full ride to Stanford. We decided to use the college fund to move back here, start the garage. Ended up starting a whole new fund for law school. Turned out he didn’t need that either.”

The faraway look in his eyes vanished and he glanced at you. “What I’m getting at is that the money is still in the account. Use it.”

“Dean!” You gasped.

“Pay it back when you start printing dollar bills.” He held up his hands. “I know you’re not the one for charity. I’m not offering you one. This way you’ll save a lot of interest money.”

This was insane. When Sam had suggested that you ask his brother to be a guarantor you had agreed only because you knew Dean was kind and he wouldn’t put you down in any way. But this was asking for too much. This was his hard earned money.

“I can’t possibly-” you spluttered; he cut you off.

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly. “I was wary of you when you first dropped into this town, seeing how quickly my brother was head over heels for you-” he chuckled. “But not anymore. He couldn’t have found a better person. And look at all that you’ve achieved by yourself. That money can’t be put to a better use. We are all so proud of you.”

You flung yourself into his arms, tears running down your face.

“Shhhh…” he soothed you. “Don’t hold them back, kiddo.”

You didn’t hold back. You clung to his jacket and sobbed into his chest, the way you wanted to when you found out Gran had passed, the way you wanted to at her funeral. It was guttural and raw and instead of flinching away from you, Dean held you tightly against him, his fingers digging into your shoulders.

Slowly your sobs subsided into tired breaths but you didn’t make a move out of his arms. It felt safe here- you were both comforted and understood.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked after a while, voice small.

“Hmm?”

“You said you were wary of me being in Sam’s life. What changed your mind?”

Unexpectedly, Dean laughed. You looked at him in confusion.

“Sam started playing again,” he said simply.

You blinked at him.

“The piano in the house belonged to our mom. She wasn’t an expert in any way, but she loved the sound it made. She used to play simple songs on it for birthdays and on Sundays. In high school Sam took classes, to honor mom’s memory, I guess. He played a lot when he was learning. Ever since he first started college, I haven’t heard him play at all. You come in and suddenly there’s Bethoveen in the air.” He chuckled.

“Whoa.”

“He’s been happier, really. He laughs a lot more now.” Dean titled his head to one side.“That and the fact that you’re pretty freaking awesome.”

Sam was lucky he had a brother to look out for him. “I always wanted an older brother,” you voiced out your childhood hope.

“You know, when Bobby first took us in after the fire, he told me something.”

“What?”

“Family don’t end in blood, sweetheart.” He shrugged, eyes so full of warmth. “You want a brother, you got one.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

Dean didn’t come inside to meet Jo.You waved to him from the door. He waited till you were safely inside before pulling out of the driveway. You watched the sleek black car disappear into the night from the window of your room, thinking about how just in a couple of months Lawrence had started feeling like a home. You thought about how Aunt El made sure that you ate every meal and Jo gave up the nicer mattress for you. You thought of the selfless love Sam showered you with and now here was Dean, offering up his hard earned money without a second thought. You had yearned for a full family all your life. Here, you had found one.

**************************

“No no no…” Meg glared at you in horror. “You absolutely CANNOT wear that!”

You looked down at your ash coloured jeans and the cream cashmere sweater. “What’s wrong with this?” You were offended. This was the best fitting pair of jeans you owned and it was a lovely sweater.

“You’re going to a party, honey,” Meg said slowly, as if talking to a five year old. “Not to the Walmart.”

“Hey!”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’m not letting you out in that thing. This reflects very badly on me as a roommate.”

You rolled your eyes. “Dear God, stop with the melodrama!”

“You think this is melodrama?” She got up from the chair. “This is a fashion suicide. I know you have your weird cold thing, but three drinks down you’re not going to feel anything.”

You put your hands on your hips, staring her down, knowing fully well that you wouldn’t get beyond one beer. Three drinks Y/N thought it was a good idea to dance on tables. You did not want to meet her.

“C’mon, in you go!” Meg didn’t give you an option. She pushed you into your room.

You protested to the best of your abilities. “I’m not wearing a stupid dress!”

“You don’t have to wear a stupid dress. Just something cool.”

“Like what?” You challenged.

Meg sat up on your table. “Show me what you got!”

Resigned, you opened your wardrobe for her to see. There wasn’t much to it, so Meg would have to give up sooner or later anyway.

“What’s that I see?” She was pointing towards a purple satin top, hanging at the very end. It was skimpy, with a plunging neckline and noodle straps. The top had been a gift from the girls at your last office, hoping it would brighten your wardrobe.

“Oh, hell no! I’m not wearing that.”

But Meg’s grin in that moment would have given the Cheshire cat a run for its money. “You’re totally wearing that, Darlin.”

Too late to regret now. You should have thrown out that scrappy blouse ages ago.

“That’s barely any material. You know me. I’ll freeze to death in it.”

“That’s why man invented leather. I’ll be back,”

With that, Meg bounded out of your room and returned with one of the coolest black leather jackets you had ever seen. “You try them on!”

It was abundantly clear she wasn’t going to take a no for an answer so you stalked off to the bathroom, making sure you huffed enough to let Meg know you were mad. She couldn’t have cared less.

Trying it on, you realised it actually looked good on you. The smooth velvet satin was sultry and felt great against your skin. It would have otherwise been too skimpy and you wouldn’t have dared to step out in something like that, but paired with the jacket and your dark jeans, you looked like a badass. Feeling bold, you pulled out the kohl pencil and lined your eyes for good measures, then pulled your hair up into a ponytail.

Meg, who was holding a book in her hands, whistled loudly at the sight of you. “Hotness!” She sang. “My, my, Y/N. Where have you been hiding all that?” She was definitely eyeing the tops of your breasts.

You blushed. “You don’t think this is too much, do you?”

“Oh, hell no! You look like a goddess! The only thing missing is a pair of heels.”

“I don’t own any except the formal ones.”

“There’s my pair right in front of the door,” she pointed.

You tried on the classy black heeled boots. They fit perfectly.

“What do you think?” You did a twirl.

Meg blew you a kiss. “You look mind blowing. There are going to be casualties tonight.”

You had to admit, this felt great. To dress up and go out and about. Even though the party was bound to suck and you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t stay beyond a drink, this feeling of confidence made you want to keep dancing. You wanted to ask Meg to come with you, however, she had already mentioned that she had some plans for the night. She’d been cryptic, too, about what they were. You had your suspicions.

“I didn’t know you owned the first edition of To kill a mockingbird,” Meg said, showing you the book she had been holding. “This is priceless.”

“Yeah. It’s my favourite book.”

“Must have cost a fortune.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Do you mind if I keep it for a day or two? I promise it won’t leave the apartment,” she reassured.

“Of course.” It was one the only two things from your past life that you couldn’t bring yourself to part with.

“Have fun, Darling!” Meg kissed your cheek as she handed you her purse. It was all very fancy, the jacket, the boots and now this chain strap purse. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You blew her a kiss and set out into the night. The Alibi was just a couple blocks away. In those unused boots it felt like a mile. During the stretch, your mind kept wandering to what had happened in the courtroom. Sam would be back in Stanford by now and you desperately wanted to contact him to see if the kid was finally free. Several times you opened your mail and almost typed out a message to him, then backspaced it all. The second guessing was killing you, however, you weren’t sure about where you stood with Sam still.

You were so relieved when you finally reached the bar, albeit fifteen minutes late. The place was halfway between fancy and fun with dark interiors and dim light. Everyone was already there. Madison wore a sparkly green number that brought out her complexion perfectly. She looked absolutely beautiful. Lacey and Rebecca wore similarly skimpy outfits. Meredith was slunking in the corner, busy in her phone, sipping on what looked like a cosmo. Brad and the boys were huddled around the pool table. There were three other girls you didn’t recognise. You assumed they were Madison’s sorority sisters.

Madison squealed when she saw you and immediately tackled you in a hug. “Y/N! I’ve been waiting for you since so long.”

“Happy birthday in advance, Maddie!” You kissed her cheek. “You look stunning.”

“You’re the one to talk.” Madison put you at arm's length, giving you a once over. “You look like a femme fatale. You have a rocking body!”

“So that’s what’s been hiding under the sweaters?” Lacey teased.

You shushed them and pulled out a small package. “This is for you!”

“You shouldn’t have!” Madison said. She opened the box carefully. Inside, were a pair of dangling pearl earrings. They had cost you a bit, but gosh, they were so elegant. You knew they would look lovely on Madison.

“Oh, these are beautiful!” She quickly removed her sparkly pair and replaced them with yours even though they didn’t really match. You were touched.

“This is such a perfect gift, Y/N!”

“Enough with the mushiness,” Lacey complained. “Get her a drink, someone!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Madison said. “What will you have, Y/N?”

“Just a beer, thanks.”

Rebecca who was holding a glass with something red in it, sauntered over to you. “C’mon! The over-achiever of the class can do more than just a beer, right?”

You were taken aback by her comment. Overachiever? You were hardly that. Is that how everyone saw you?

“If she wants a beer, she gets a beer!” Madison adamantly stalked off to get you one.

You took a seat next to Meredith who gave you a nod of acknowledgement and went back to whatever she was doing on her phone. Sometimes you liked her the best in the unholy trinity that followed Madison everywhere.

“Beer for the lady who is a lovely vision tonight.”

It was Brad. You groaned internally, taking the beer from Madison.

“Gotta say, Y/N,” he slid in next to you. “Never figured you would be the one for beer or satin and leather!”

“What can I say, I’m a new discovery everyday.” The sarcasm was dripping off your tongue, but despite scoring a seat in Stanford, Brad didn’t have the mental ability to figure it out.

“I like that in a girl.”

That was your cue to get out of there.

“Gonna head to the powder room.”

You made your exit as quickly as possible. It was close to twelve. All you had to do was stick around till Madison turned twenty-six and then get the hell out of here.

Easy enough, right?

Not so much.

When you got back from the washroom, everyone at your table was highkey excited, giggling and squealing.

“What is going on?” You asked Lacey.

“Look there,” she pointed out to the other end of the bar. “It’s Mr. Winchester.”

You stomach dropped straight to the ground at the mention of his name. And sure enough, there he was sitting in a corner booth dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, busy with his phone.

“My GOD will you look at him!” Rebecca screeched. “He looks like a fucking lumberjack.”

“Oh, he can lift me all day for as long as he wants,” Lacey sighed.

“Should we go talk to him?” Rebecca asked, excited. “I mean he’s by himself. I can buy him a drink.”

“It’s a private booth, dummy,” Meredith said, looking away from the screen for the first time. “He hasn’t ordered anything. He’s clearly waiting for someone.”

“Maybe we get to see his lady love today,” sighed Lacey.

Rebecca gave her a scornful look. “There’s no one with him right now. So who cares?”

“Madison will. It’s her party and it’s almost midnight,” you said quietly. “Maybe we should concentrate on her right now.”

In reality, you wanted to throw up. You didn’t want to believe Sam would be seeing someone, let alone stay here to witness his date. All that time you had been worrying about his case, had he been waiting for this?

The cake cutting and celebration for Madison was all a blur. There was a lot of hugging, unnecessary screaming and then a round of super expensive drinks.

Rebecca, the absolutely horrible person that she was, decided to go to Sam immediately afterwards and Lacey tagged along. Madison was busy with phone calls, one after another wishing her a happy birthday. It would have been the perfect opportunity to slip out and go home. Instead, with unsteady feet, you walked to the bar.

The bartender had his back to you, so you asked loudly. “Vodka. Neat, please.”

You removed the leather jacket, leaving your shoulders completely bare, the plunging neckline making more skin visible. Next, you yanked the tie out of your hair, letting it spill over your shoulders.

The bartender eyed you appreciatively before putting down the shot in front of you. “This one’s on the house.”

“Thanks!”

You brought the glass to your lips and tipped it back.

“One more!”

“You sure?” He asked, hitching one eyebrow

You grinned, though none of the warmth seeped into your chest. “I am one hundred percent sure.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, hey,” you said, as the distinct squeals of Rebecca laughter erupted from the background. “Make it tequila this time.”

**************************

A/N 2: Hah! Who is excited for the next chapter? It’s one of my favourites ;)

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