Fracture II

I am a sucker for #yandere!bakugo AHHHH

manners | bakugou katsuki

yandere! au

fantasy! au

implied fem! reader

barbarian prince! bakugou

note: this will be part of a series/universe. you're welcome to request more barbarian bakugou that will likely become part of this story ! Part 2 is on the way but it will be much darker than this part !

synopsis. your mother had always taught you to uphold your manners. And so you did, even towards the barbaric prince who kidnapped you.

WARNING(S): Obsessive tendencies, unhealthy relationships, abusive themes, swearing, kidnapping, nudity, mentions of murder, light mentions of attempted sexual assault

The rumors swept through your village like wildfire; the barbarians were coming.

No one knew if it was true, but that didn't stop multiple families with small children from packing up and leaving before they could find out. You would have as well if you had the proper time to pack your most valuable assets. Instead, you dedicated yourself to helping watch the children for the families leaving.

You'd spent nearly the whole day collecting herbs for the local doctor, and hadn't gotten the chance to get back in order to know what was happening. Of course it'd only been maybe 30 minutes since one of your neighbors returned from hunting, screeching about how the red-eyes prince and his people were coming this way. But for you it'd been 6.

Oddly enough, it was a lot like what happened to your last home.

You felt as if you were cursed by those wretched barbarians. Only a few months ago had they raided and destroyed your home village. By pure coincidence did you survive, sent away that day to make a fur trade in place of your father. You'd avoided their wrath once, but the odds were against you and you doubted you could do it again.

You believed it to be your fault for not being their to help protect your previous neighbors, you refused to feel that pain and regret once more.

Even as they rode into the village, buildings burning up into flames and the small streets getting wrecked, you still didn't run. You almost couldn't move at first, freezing in place as you saw the chaos increase around you. Only the sound of screaming could bring you out of your trance. Without any further hesitation, you took off running into your home. You'd been caring for four young children as their parents rushed to pack, and they hadn't yet returned to pick them up. If you were completely honest with yourself, you knew it was probably likely a few of the parents left without them to avoid the risk of dying themselves.

Once the front door was securely shut behind you, you glanced around the room to see that the kids you were watching over were huddled together in a far corner to keep from being seen by passing berserkers. Putting a finger to your lips, you motioned for them to follow you quietly. Swiftly moving to the closet, you pushed away the box that lay on the ground. Pulling up the ugly carpet, there was a hatch. It took quite a bit of effort from you for it to be opened, but as soon as the cellar door came loose you helped each child in safely.

They'd be scared, sure, but overall the environment you created down there wasn't so bad. Rather than a blank, dirt filled room with spiders, it was clean, sheets and blankets covering all surfaces. It served as both a ‘club house’ and storage for things you couldn’t quite fit upstairs and you didn’t want to be stolen.

"Here." You whispered, returning to the door and handing a handful of candles to the oldest boy, "Stay in here until you can't hear anything, okay? There are matches under the bottom step. I'll do my best to come back for you. Be quiet, alright? Make sure to keep quiet.”

The boy was only about 9, but he seemed to have the most understanding of what was occurring outside. When he tearfully nodded, you closed the hatch, pushing the carpet back over it and shutting the closet door.

Maybe you should look for their parents, or leave them a note of some sort in their homes telling them where their child or children are. No, a note would be too risky, wouldn't it? What of they were killed or dropped it or someone else found it, then a barbarian would read it and come slaughter the kids. You couldn't just run passed them and hand them a note, you had to explain to them where their kids were.

Before you could get another thought in, your front door was suddenly kicked in. You let out a scream and crouched to the ground in fear. Brown eyes met your form, a dark chuckle escaping the large, dirty looking man. Finding your wits, you stood, backing yourself up against the far wall of your house. The man didn't seem to be in any rush to catch you, instead watching you in amusement. He was covered in blood, you noted, and you could smell the smoke on him from across the room.

"There you are, little babe. Do you know just how much trouble you've put us through?" He took a step closer, "A real lot. Our leader sure wants you."

His eyes scanned your body, a more suggestive look gracing his ugly face, "I can see why, shit. Maybe I should just try you out for myself first, m'sure he won't mind too bad, huh? Don't reckon anyone would care if they heard you screamin'."

He still hadn't moved and you knew that this was it: your moment. You turned around quickly, pulling up the window and diving out before he could grab you. You could hear his angry shouts and steps as he ran to yank you back in. But once he put his hands on the wood, you turned, grabbing the edge of the window and pulling it down with all your might onto his fingers. The shout he let out was gratifying, but you had no time to sit and bask in it.

You were shocked with yourself, you'd never hurt any person nor animal in your entire life. Your mother always taught you that kindness and generosity would get you everywhere you needed, and it truly had until now. You believed the woman who raised you, but this wasn't something that could be fixed with a few gentle kisses. At least, you doubted it.

Running between the broken houses, you noticed that the only ones on fire were on the east side. Although your home was probably going to be safe on the west side, you knew where most of the children were from. Hopefully, their parents had stuck around and looked for them. But as of now, the only person you'd seen was that evil barbarian.

Lost in thought, you found yourself tripping over a discarded broom.

Gods, you needed to stop thinking if things like this were just going to happen.

Unlucky you, it appeared as though your yelp of surprise caught someone's attention.

"Tch. Fuckin' finally." You heard a deep growl behind you as you froze from your spot on the ground.

You barely even processed that someone was there before you were roughly lifted up into the air. Large hands were around your waist, holding you up as vermillion eyes looked smugly into yours.

"How's my sweet little mate been, hah? 'Didn't realise you were a clumsy little bit." He chuckled up at you, amused by your tripping about 30 seconds before.

"Uh-um," You struggled in his grip, not enjoying the way he kept you hovering in front of him, "could you pl-please let go?"

He snickered below you, finally lowering you to the ground but not releasing his hold on your waist, "Holy hell are you fuckin' cute. Can't wait to bring you back."

He was much larger than the man that attacked you in your house, over a head taller and muscles much more defined. Much more attractive too, clear skin and messy blonde locks. Now that you were on the ground, you almost missed being in the air. His didn't seem so threatening then.

"I- I really have to go. Would um- would you please let go of me?" A weak and stupid request, you doubted it would work. But it's not like you could compete with him physically so asking nicely may have been your best option.

"Nah-ah, Baby. You're mine now. Been mine for awhile. So stop fuckin' squirming." His voice came out as an aggressive growl, but it didn't look like he was trying to hurt you. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you close to his chest so he could look at you better.

"You're my mate. Got it? My princess 'n shit."

Once thrown over his shoulder, you began to struggle once again, "No! No thank you, sir, really. Um- I really- just uh- can't!"

You yelped as he pulled up the skirt of your dress so he could place a wet kiss on the bare skin of your thigh, nipping at it before soothing the sting with his tongue, "You're a polite little thing. That's cute 'n all, but seriously shut the fuck up."

You whimpered, looking hard at your surroundings. You'd only been walking a few seconds, but you were shocked you hadn't seen anyone yet. He was bringing you to the rest of his men, you knew it, so you had to make you escape soon before you lost all opportunities completely. Passing a wooden pillar that held your neighbors tall front porch up, you grabbed hold of it and kicked yourself off your captor. Not giving him a chance to grab you, you jumped from the ground and began sprinting the opposite direction. It was awkward with one shoe, having lost the other one diving out of your window earlier, but you didn't think you could deal with stepping on broken glass with both feet. Your best bet was to run into the forest nearby, better not to run home and risk the children's safety or running into that bad man from earlier.

You could hear the blonde barbarian laughing cruelly behind you, much closer than he had been second ago. You should've expected him to be fast, he chased and murdered people regularly. Why was running a good idea again?

"Got'cha." He grabbed hold of your dress, effectively yanking you back into his body. You were weakened and out of breath, but he was barely even breaking a sweat.

"Such a sweet little thing, and then ya had to go and be a goddamned brat." He held you almost too tightly, bringing a hand up to move your hair, exposing your neck to him, "It's fine, you'll learn to fuckin' listen."

He nuzzled his face against your skin for a moment, applying a few gentle kisses to the area before licking and sinking his teeth into your neck. You cried out in pain, all the fear and exhaustion suddenly catching up to you. The last thing you felt was his warm tongue running over your bloodied wound before passing out.

×

When you woke up, you were on a horse. You didn't open your eyes right away, but you could both feel and hear the rhythm of its footsteps. You weren't alone of course, you were cradled close to someone's chest. After allowing yourself a few seconds to think, all the fear and recent memories came flooding back. You knew who was holding you, the smell of caramel, smoke, and blood was familiar enough. He must have felt you were shaking because it didn't take him long to hold you tighter against him, glancing down to check on you.

You squinted your eyes closed once again after the two of you made eye contact, an amused snort coming from the barbarian in response. He didn't say anything, choosing to let you look around whilst he kept a close eye on your movements.

The sounds of laughing, shouting men is what you notice first, your eyes still squeezed shut. It's nothing but unsettling to you; these men just destroyed an entire village, murdering innocent people and likely children.

Oh gods, the children!

"We have to go back!" You squeaked, perking up and pulling on the barbarians beads, eyes wide and focused on his face.

He scoffed at your panicked expression, his anger building up already, "We're not going back, Brat. You're mine now and you're going where I go. So sit tight and keep your damn mouth shut."

You paused, thinking to yourself. You couldn't tell him about the children, could you? He'd likely either go back and kill them or wouldn't bother bother going back at all. Their people were ruthless, it's possible they'd already burnt your house down or killed the kids themselves. You couldn't see around just yet, the barbarian's massive size blocking your view, but you could tell there were maybe 50 men following behind you based off the voices. No way to escape now, but maybe later once you're settled. The vermillion eyed killer couldn't watch you forever.

"River in about 50 yards, Boss!" A voice shouted from the left.

Not facing that direction and unable to turn, you tilted your head back for an upside down view of a blonde barbarian. He looked quite odd, even more so from your angle, and had a black bolt running through his yellow hair. He glanced your way for a second and smiled quickly before riding ahead. In your opinion, not that you could form much of one without knowing him, he wasn't like the others you'd met. He was smaller and more outwardly goofy. It relieved for a second until you remembered all the things he must've done to your home.

Your neck ached again now from where you'd been bitten earlier. Your grogginess kept the pain at bay for a bit, but moving around seemed to remind your body of what happened. You didn't want to reach up and touch it, scared of what you'd feel.

Without any more protest you lifted your head back up and and leant against the red-eyed man's chest. He seemed to like that, you noted, hearing the less-aggressive-than-usual grunt leave him.

It only took another two minutes to reach the river the bolt-haired guy was talking about. If you were lucky, this was the same river that was close to your village. If you kept track of where you went from here, then once you escaped you could follow it back.

You flinched when your barbarian adjusted your position suddenly, (yes your barbarian, what else could you call him at this point?) allowing you sit side saddle on the horse as he got off. Having been gifted the opportunity to get to know your surroundings, you glanced around seeing many large men getting off their horses and settling down for a break of sorts. Taking advantage of your distracted state, your barbarian roughly pulled you down by the waist, relishing in the small yelp that left your lips. The small, high-pitched sound seemed to draw a few others' attention as well, drawing some quiet chuckles from the men. You looked away from them, slightly embarrassed as well as frustrated.

They're all sick fucks.

"C'mon." Your barbarian grunted, not wanting you attracting too much attention just yet. He had a tight grip on your left forearm and right side of your waist, leading you further up the river in front of him and away from the others. Still with only one shoe, you repeatedly stumbled, but he just kept shoving you along in response.

Only after the two of you were alone, out of view from anyone else did he release you. You turned around out of curiosity and watched him discard a satchel you didn't notice he had until that moment. But then he started removing more items: his furs, beads, then arm sleeves. You couldn't decide which was scarier: surrounded by all those other men or alone with this one. Running wasn't smart just yet, the way you needed to go was towards the group of those sadistic killers. This one was terrifying, yes, but he didn't give off the same energy as the dirty man that tried to do bad things to you before. He wasn't going to try to touch you like the other one, was he?

Your eyes started to water silently once he returned to you, beginning to remove your clothing as well. He growled at your shaking, an unspoken sign to shut up. Maybe it wasn't what you thought, his pants were still on after all. But the thoughts you used as an attempt to comfort yourself didn't hold up once he reached your undergarments. It's like he sensed that you were about to put up a fight because as soon as you started struggling and pushing him away, his hands wrapped around your arms and pulled you close.

"Stop it- ! Let go, please!"

"Fucking quit!" He barked at you, making you jerk your head down silently, tears continuing to fall as you did your best to pull away.

You were no match for his strength and determination though, and after a few minutes of fighting, he was able to successfully strip you completely. Your sobbing dissolved into hiccups at this point, but your head didn't go back up. Instead, your eyes were focused on your bare feet, your left shoe being thrown off when the warrior was ridding you of your underwear.

"Stop pouting, Dipshit. I'm tryin' to clean you for fuck sake." He pulled you up onto him, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, walking the two of you into the stream.

You hissed quietly at the feeling of cold water hitting your body, but it was comforting after such a stressful day. You felt better after learning that the red-eyed man was just washing you, but you still weren't comfortable by any means. Being so close and nude to a brutal murderer you didn't even know brought tears to your eyes once again.

You were submerged up to your chin now, the cool water soothing the bite mark on your neck. You couldn't reach the bottom but your barbarian could, so there was no getting him to let go of you. He used the depth of the water as an excuse of course, he wouldn't let go of you even if you could reach. Your legs weren't around him any longer, nor were your arms in an attempt to distance yourself from him as much as you could. He still held you tightly though, his left hand gripping your thigh and the other trailing over various parts of your body.

His hands were so much bigger than yours. You knew this before, but it was a lot more obvious when he lifted his hand to your face, wiping the dirt and soot away. It would've been calming if you were with someone you knew and loved.

"What's your name?" You asked him, coming back up from under water so you could rinse yourself.

"You call me Katsuki." His hands moved from your shoulder to your throat, not squeezing but still threatening, "Nothing else, got it?"

You nodded, gulping down your fear of how easily he could drown you if he wanted to.

"Good." He pressed a forceful kiss to your lips then another to the bite mark he gave you.

You whimpered, pulling sharply away from him a bit, which he oddly didn't seem to mind too much. In fact, he didn't mind at all; he wasn't moving a muscle. Looking back at his face after too long without action, you noticed his gaze trained on the wooded area behind you. Hearing a twig snap from the same direction, you jerked your head over to see what was there, only to spot nothing. You would've looked longer if it wasn't for Katsuki tucking you into his chest and sinking a few inches further into the water as if to cover more of you.

"What is it?" You whispered, face now level with his shoulder.

"Some fucking extra I'm about to obliterate." He hissed out, "C'mon, we're getting you dressed."

He picked you up, carrying you out of the river to place you gently on the grass, making sure your back was facing the way of the men were set up. Not wanting Katsuki to see any more you then was necessary, you pressed your legs together with your arms over your breasts. He left you to put your own undergarments on, busying himself with getting redressed, but kicked your dirty dress away before you could grab it.

"Try a-fucking-gain." He spoke smugly, handing you the satchel he brought along. He watches you carefully as you crouched in the grass, opening the leather bag to see what was inside.

The dress wasn't what you expected to come from barbarians. Even females wore fur and leather. But this article of clothing was nothing of the sort; it was made of beautiful, sheer, pale blue fabric. It was made to fall off your shoulders, with a few brightly colored flowered adorned at the the top. The sleeves were elbow length and were thin enough you could see your arms through them. The length wasn't very long, only reaching just above your knees, something your mother told you was unladylike. It looked like something a princess or fairy would own.

"My mother made that for you so ya better fuckin' love or she'll beat both of us." Katsuki muttered, eyes gauging your reaction for any signs of anger or disgust.

"It's very beautiful, sir. But-"

"Katsuki."

"Right, I'm sorry. It's- um- lovely, Katsuki. But isn't it a bit short?" You tried to translate your feelings as delicately as you could, not wanting to risk angering the man before you. Especially now that you knew his own mother made it.

"Who fuckin' cares? What's it matter anyway? You're for my eyes only and I'll fuckin' end anyone who looks at you too long. If you like it, then wear it." He was starting to get angry, you could hear it. Dismissing his unsettling words, you decided to wear it. Not only did you feel forced, but you also didn't want to waste such a pretty artie of clothing.

Katsuki watched you the whole time as you slipped into the delicate fabric. Unfortunately for you, it tied in the back like a corset and you needed help, but you didn't need even need to ask before he was tying it for you. You were surprised at how gentle he was doing it, having been nothing but rough with you so far. Maybe it was that he respected his mother's craftsmanship. He was just as gentle leading you back to the group; settling for holding your hand rather than grabbing at your body.

When you returned to the rest of the warriors, not one of them looked your way. You guessed Katsuki meant it when he said no one was to look at you unless they want to be killed. The blonde lead you back to his horse, giving you strict instructions to stay, then left you alone for the first time since he saw you.

"Kaminari, you fuckin' dunce!" He shouted, walking further into the crowd of men.

He wasn't in your line of vision anymore, and that scared you. Not only were you without any form of protection with killers all around you, but you think you can see the one that was harassing you before you met Katsuki. The big, dirty one who cornered you in your house. Yeah, it was definitely him and he was looking right at you too, a look on his face you couldn't describe

You whimpered, backing up to stand on the other side of the horse to block his view of you, looking over its back to try to spot Katsuki. He wouldn't let anything happen to you, you're sure. Not after all that big talk about you belonging to him and such. Failing to find the large blonde, you glanced back over to see the man closer than he was before. You think a few others noticed what he was doing because he backed off after someone tossed a rock at his shoe. And although he was ignoring you once more, you still felt terrified of him.

"'Fuck happened to my little mate?" Katsuki asked when he returned after another minute, noticing the tears on your face and bad effort at hiding yourself behind his horse.

As protective as he seemed to be, you didn't think you should tell him what happened so you just shrugged in response, allowing him to hug you close. After a few minutes longer of everyone shuffling around, it finally seemed time to start moving again. Katsuki pulled you up with him on his horse, tucking you against him as he did last time before leading his people off.

×

It was likely around midnight by the time Katsuki helped you off the horse again. It would've been pitch black if it wasn't for the sheer amount of torches coming from what appeared to be Katsuki's camp ground. You were tired by then, worn out mostly from the crying, fear, and stress rather than any physical exertion. Katsuki didn't appear tired at all; his chest was puffed out with perfect posture. He looked like a strong leader. You don't know what he left you to talk to Kaminari about earlier, but you learned that Kaminari was the yellow-haired guy with the funny bolt running through it.

Katsuki didn't want to let you walk, refusing to put you down in favor of carrying you wherever he wanted. There were maybe a hundred tents throughout the area, but no one in sight besides the others who returned with the two of you.

"Are there not more of you?" You asked as he carried you towards the largest tent in sight.

"They're in their tents." He mumbled, "'Not allowed to see you yet."

You wanted to ask more, but you were so tired and the big bed you were just introduced to looked so inviting. The tent you were in was decently dark, the only light coming from outside, but you could tell it quite large, easily the size of the main room in your house. Katsuki placed you down on the bed, tucking you into the red sheets and fur blankets as gently as he was capable of.

"I'll be back, little mate." He kissed the side of your head, teeth nipping your earlobe lightly before he released you and left the tent altogether.

You were asleep as soon as he let go, but less than an hour later you were awoken once more by a large figure joining you in bed. He tucked himself behind you, leaning his face into your neck, the scent of caramel and smoke thick on him. You were fading in and out of consciousness, but felt the distinct sensation of a tongue grazing the bite mark on your neck. Your whimper was shut down by a deep growl.

"Sleep, you damn brat."

_____

A few things to know lol:

Barbarian Katsuki is quite a bit larger than regular katsuki: abt 6'5"-6'6"

I write the reader to be pretty petite but nothing like height or weight will ever be outright clarified

This was pretty tame for barbarian bakugou, but his more violent behavior will be brought out in future parts where our polite little reader is not so polite

You can give ideas and request certain things for future parts any time cuz I'm pretty into this lmao

Kirishima is in the next part '-'

but so is shady dirty man

pls excuse any typos or grammar mistakes, I swear I'm not illiterate

- Admin Duckie

┌─ “ ! „ WINTER ROSES

tw. dubcon/noncon, babytrapping, manipulation, gaslighting, captivity, yandere oikawa, dacryphilia, a lot of praise, Stockholm syndrome, biting, one sided obsession/love, spit, kinda corruption-y wordcount. 10k

a/n. each other scene is the present timeline - just in case mWUAH ♡ commissioned by an amazing amazing follower ♡ it was just such a pleasure to write this piece even though it really pushed my two braincells! thank you so so much for commissioning me!! i really hope you enjoy <33

oikawa tooru x fem!reader

It’s surprisingly easy to catch yourself in a lie; Oikawa discovers this at the wrong time, the wrong place.

It’s plenty easy to have good intentions in words- and words only, but actions always speak louder. And sadly, his actions are not those of an ever forgiving, gracious person. He’s never claimed to be perfect, far from it. No, he’s many things, but never perfect— and that’s how he likes it. Because Oikawa Tooru might not be perfect, but he’s a bit of everything else in between. He’s intelligent, he knows this much. Could read quicker than Iwaizumi could, and his spatial awareness is unparallelled by almost anyone in his circle.

He’s cunning, never sly— an easy combination that keeps him from saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. He’s been told many a time he’s far from bad on the eyes, and well— though he’s not opposed to using it to his advantage here and there, he’s no show-off by nature. He’s perfectly imperfect, the shining jewel of a bustling city where standing out is about your greatest luck in life. After all, all his imperfection is what keeps the human form entertaining.

But lies like this- you’re happy, you’re in love, you would do anything for him; they’re easy to dispute when you are dropping your head off the side of the bed and your tears are dripping onto the floor. His ‘don’t make me see you cry’ order is taken a bit too literal for his liking, but he guesses it’s a stubborn, resilient defiance of yours. It’s surprisingly easy to catch yourself in a lie. You still get this way when you are reminded of home, of your brother and your parents and everything you were forced to leave behind for him. All sniveling and making him feel, quite honestly, really shitty.

And he’s not delusional, he knows it was forced. Forcefully taken. He’s just good at making you doubt it. Doubt it and give into him when he offers you a few tissues and helps you back up onto the covers, opening his arms for you. As hard as he’s tried to make it into a tightly woven truth, there’s nothing about the way you sink into his arms and bury your face into the soft crook of his neck that is authentic. He’s a million lies in with no intention of stopping, and that’s fine. He’ll be fine with the mountain of lies at the end of the day.

If it means running his hands along the back of your head and laying sweet kisses on the top of your crown that you so gladly nuzzle into. Whatever you need to do for love, right? However much you need to lie?

He clears his voice in the darkness of the room, shivering a little at the jangle of the chain around your ankle. He softly nudges up your face to face him, studies the pretty planes of your face and your puffy eyes, the way your bottom lip is more swollen and flushed full of blood. You’re so beautiful to him. More beautiful than he could ever ask for, more beautiful than he deserves. He brushes a stray strand away from your face before smiling into the night, wrapping his strong arms around your body. “You’re so beautiful, angel.”

You don’t say much in return, shyly nuzzling his jaw as you hide away in embarrassment, and the tenderness gives him shivers. “Another nightmare?”

“S’nothing,” you mumble back, kissing along the marks he demanded you lay on him the night before, a promise of your love or his. “I love you, Tooru.” You’re already laying back down between his legs, allowing him to prop himself up against the headboard as you slowly sink back into sleep. The ‘I love you more’ on his tongue remains unspoken, not willing to wake you up again in fear of more memories crawling back up to the surface. He sees the way you look over your shoulder to watch him sometimes, eyes growing a bit too wide with revelations.

Wild, like a prey animal caught in a trap. An appropriate visual that doesn’t clear his head from the countless thoughts that swim in circles and keep him from pushing any further. You might break if he tries, and he loves you way too much to break you. This is a first to him too, you know. Uncharted territory. It’s a dance he’s unpracticed in, a little clumsy as he appraises you with your mouth half open on his chest. Isn’t it enough for him to be trying? Despite all his losses and his flaws.

He taps his foot impatiently against the metal chain crossing half of the bed with a sigh, before wrapping his arms a little tighter around you. Iwaizumi never warned him it would be this hard, but then again, Oikawa’s sure his friend isn’t exactly familiar with the comings and goings of this situation either. He can only assure himself that one day you’ll wake up and have forgotten all about his imperfections. One day you’ll forgive him for his lovestruck problems and his selfishness.

+

Tooru Oikawa isn’t a bad person, not in his eyes, and not in the eyes of the people who know him. He enjoys his fair share of issues, but at the end of the day— when it comes down to the wire— the brunet is as clever as he is tall and as charming as he can be sweet. He knows it.

Until he catches himself judging yet another fine young lady a bit too harshly in his head, lowering his head in the upteenth courtesy for the night and feeling absolutely nothing. The night is going to waste, and everyone is getting frustrated. He is, his father is, and above all; his mother is. She no longer holds her glass with a raised pinky and a coy smile, instead clamping her fist around the stem of the crystal with all the class and grace of a lumbering woodworker. He’s scared she might hit him over the head with it before the night is over— but alas, he’s far too clever to get fooled by his own lie.

Because though he knows that imperfection is the spice of everything sweet, one can’t help but scrutinize when scrutiny is all you have to go on. He smiles wide and warm when letting the pretty blonde’s hand go to escape the dance, undoing the cotton tie looped around the base of his neck before it chokes him. “Kill me already.” He might be a class act in pretending to enjoy life more than most, but God— are these people dull. All of them raised with golden spoons and delicate praises. Nothing behind the eyes other than a distinct knowledge of the rest of their lives written in glossy ink.

And on paper he is no different. Only son of a familial empire, the heir of a generation. His older sister has long gone and married off to a quiet, kind man and is busy securing the family legacy; so it’s no wonder his mother is getting flushed in the cheeks when no more of the girls invited remain for a first dance. He’s gone through them all, and as always, taken notice of none. It’s not that they’re not pretty, or kind, or -in some cases- have the shape of every girl he’s ever so much as dreamed about.

He just… feels indifferent about spending his life with any of them. And indifference is harder to distinguish between than adoration or disgust. Which just leaves him annoyed at the effort.

It wasn’t this way when his older sibling was of courting age. She had always wanted to get married, even from childhood, the effect of a well meaning mom making her expectations clear. She had accepted her fate with elegance and poise expected of an heir to a great inheritance, and she’d done it all under the guise of love. Tooru on the other hand— he’s many things indeed, and one of them is also indecisive at heart. He wants to think anyone would have a difficult time in choosing the rest of their damn lives. Not that his parents seem to take this into consideration much. Bonds are waiting to be laid and all that.

He stops at the table adjacent to the wall for a clear glass of water to soothe the headache threatening to bloom at his temples, suit too restricting and tight for the night. He’s sick of this theatrical shit. Of pretending to smile genuinely when a young lady flutters her eyelashes in his direction, hoping they’re the one to sweep him off his feet. It’s not exactly custom, but Oikawa can’t help but think that it’ll happen when it happens— and that’s exactly where the problem lies.

A soft huff of acknowledgement is accompanied by the creaky sigh of the table when another body comes to lean against it, and Oikawa doesn’t need to look up from his clasped hands to know that Iwaizumi was basically waiting for an opportunity to have a word. If not the ladies grabbing at his ankles and pulling him around, it’s one of his friends he has to deal with. The thought passes with a quick smirk, but it’s unneeded, and unearned. Of all the people in this room, the one he knows isn’t here to bother him, is Iwa.

He looks up into the crowd first, making eye contact with his mother from across the dim room to watch her sour a little further. People mingle and dance, sure, but there’s no denying. The tension is higher than ever, and only because he’s running out the clock yet again. There will be words after this, that much is clear. He sighs, takes a sip of his cool drink, and waits for his best friend to come with the unasked, sage advice. Unasked, but not unneeded.

“What’re you waiting for?” Iwa asks, dry and to anyone else’s ear, it might come across uncaring. But Tooru knows better.

“Dunno.” He sways the glass in his hand until there’s rings in the water that travel to the edges. “I’m just not feeling it tonight, I think.”

There’s an unconvinced noise, then a silence. “I’m just saying you’d save yourself and everyone in this room a lot of trouble and unearned broken hearts if you went and made a decision. Don’t lead them on, don’t…” Iwa grunts, clearly getting flustered at having to be the voice of reason, but he still pushes through. “Think of anyone other than yourself for once. If you don’t wanna pick, then make that clear to your old woman and get it done with. We’re all tired of this too, you know.”

Iwa doesn’t have to stay. He could walk off like this and leave the words said and sinking, serving a real ‘told ya’ moment in the future. But he doesn’t, and so Oikawa swallows his instinct to snap something back for the sake of it. As per usual… Iwaizumi knows what he’s talking about.

“I’m not trying to, if that’s what you think.”

“You’re not trying to stop her either.” And… correct again. The self-righteous feeling of annoyance that sits under his ribs doesn’t fade as he thinks that over, but it does waver a bit. Definitely when Iwa turns to him, arms crossed tightly over his chest and he mumbles a harsh but needed “get it together”. Then he lands his hand hard onto Oikawa’s shoulder, and the dramatics are out before the brunet can stop them.

“Ow, Iwa-chan.”

He puts the drink down though, slides it over the lacquered table for a few more seconds of break from all the bustle, and hums. “You’re right. Hold down the fort without me for a second.” Iwa’s eyebrows shoot up at the sudden exclamation, but Tooru’s already walking towards the heavy doors for some much needed fresh air.

“Where are you going?!” Iwa hisses after him, but he’s not quite close enough to stop his best friend from making it to the door and slipping out through it with a satisfied grin on his cheeks. Now he’ll definitely have words with the old ones at home. And it’s worth it. The cool, freshness of the air clears out the drowsy feeling of too much wine and dull conversation almost instantly, letting him make it halfway past the courtyard before the door is pulled open after him and what he knows to be Iwa to slip out after. “Shitty-kawa!” the man calls after him, and Tooru gives him a smiley salute before hopping over the stone wall into the alley below.

He lands with a soft ‘uph’, undoes the buttons of his pants and arms, before stretching out to the night sky and beginning to walk. If he knows anything about Iwa, and he knows almost a sad amount too much, it’s that the guy won’t chase. He could, but he doesn’t— a quite ample metaphor for the guy’s stale love life. It makes him smile, but he doesn’t linger on the thought for long. If he’s going to disgrace his parents right in front of their noses with his actions, he might as well enjoy the night out.

The streets here are still clean, quiet save for the stray cat passing through. He doesn’t allow himself to remain within these childhood streets though, or else he might go crawling back with his tail tucked between his legs. Even the one and only Oikawa Tooru is a slave to habit. So he walks, past the cramped alleyways and familiar houses under the same sky he always has. Walks until the birds scare at his presence and he gets to an area he no longer recognizes at the outskirts of the sprawling city. There’s no cleanly spaced lanterns on the walls, no polished stone and aquamarine banners hung above the houses anymore to celebrate name days or inheritances.

There is a growing sound though, people laughing and cheering somewhere in the distance. He can hear it, practically taste the excitement in the air. It’s in that second he also realizes that he’s never come here before for longer than a few brief appearances; and for good reason. But the curiosity is too pressing, taking over his feet before he can really think it over.

Two children push him to the side as he walks down the torch lit alley as they laugh, and he follows the giggles even into the dark. Now this— Iwa would call a bad idea. It probably is, and if anyone were to recognize him this far out of his family’s territory, it could spell some serious issues back home. But as he presses a hand to the cold, gritty plaster of the house and ascends a few stairs, he’s much too far into the den to turn back now. He doesn’t bother covering his face as he comes into the round marketplace, avoiding the people walking past him left and right to find a spot out of the direct eye. 

It doesn’t escape him that the flag hanging limply from the central post isn’t his own. It’s exciting enough being out without anyone at his side for the first time in… what must be a couple years, but the possibility of getting to see his sworn family enemy walking about is even greater a jitter. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and lingers at the edge of the alley, tall enough to look over most people towards the little group that are allowed a bit more space. It’s not hard to spot them, by the fancier dress than just a simple shirt and moccasins. 

But what really gives it away is the purple stones that glint so bright under the flicker of the candle lit square that the shine of them reflects on the walls, stitched onto clothes and woven into metal necklaces, hairpins, sword handles. One taller guy with silver-ish, tan hair, and a shorter girl hiding behind him. You. The older pair of people next to you mingle with others, wide smiles as they engage in frivolous conversation— but you; you’re nosing into the bicep of the man you’re standing next to, long lashes framing bright eyes where they flit around the square and only linger on people’s faces very briefly, before glancing up at the sky instead. You’re a vision, top to bottom dressed up like a blooming flower, the prettiest star in the night sky.

It’s not the beauty that stays with him though. It’s the pouty lip, the frown that makes it’s way onto your face when you’re dragged around and have to cling to the man’s arm with a tightness he can only describe as inseparable by human hands. You’re high society, there’s no doubt of it, with that hair and those clothes and even the easy steps on pointed heels. But you’re childishly brewing up a storm, and that’s what really takes him aback. You’re nothing like what he’s learned a high society young lady to be, even when you shake off the young man’s hand with a pout and playfully slap it away, only for it to quickly be replaced again.

He’s too far away to hear the conversation, too caught up to really pay attention anyway — so it almost passes him by when you come to a halt again for more conversation, repeat the same dance and motion until your eyes meet his. Oikawa freezes. He wasn’t planning on moving, but he finds he can’t so much as breathe while your eyes are on his, though he can feel his eyebrows raising at being caught. And you blink a few times, before tilting your head in confusion. You’re even prettier head on. Pretty brows and a pretty nose and the curve of your lips like delicate flower petals that take over his heart in an instant.

You look away. He finds himself shuffling to the side a little more as you get dragged back into the masses, if only to catch your eyes again; face your curious judgment again. Maybe this is how those poor girls at his own ball feel. Maybe he sees the appeal. “Sorry, s’cuse me.” Like a spark that catches fire to his flammable insides, he follows behind until he bumps up against an older man who refuses to get out of his way quick enough, and you’re gone. Whisked into the whir of all the people that laugh and cheers, as he is left a burnt pile of rubble.

It’s not a challenge. It’s not. And still he’s already convinced that something about you— he has to have it. He moves back to the alleyway from which he came, down the stairs. His jacket is pulled a bit tighter around himself as he trails back down the streets; excitement of a night out long forgotten. Instead your curious gaze stays with him like you’re just out of reach, and the tingles it sends down his spine are almost too good to be true.

+

Your wavering comfort is slipping quickly as you watch him pace around the room, eyes flicking over at you every so often. Your one leg feels a lot heavier than the other as you wait for him to settle down, and hopefully— let you be. “You know how much I love you, don’t you?” he asks, brows pulled tight and handsome face more antagonizing than usual. His arms are crossed over his chest as he comes to a halt a few feet away from you, to watch you where you’re propped up against the bed. You hate it when he gets mad. When he gets mad, he gets mean; and when he gets mean, the waterworks and the endless self-doubt are never far off.

“Of course I do—”

“Then why would you ask me that?” He bites his bottom lip hard, so hard you’re worried he might split it right open if it continues. “Why- Your brother is fine- Your family is fine. I’m the one you should be thinking about,” he sends you a look of total defeat, gritting his teeth. “Don’t do this to us, angel.” Tooru is good when he’s kind. When he wants to be, he’s the most loving person you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting and then some. With all the praise in the world he gives himself to you, a gift offered with open palms that you can only be grateful for. You believe it’s all he could ever give you.

When he’s doing well, he’s your favorite person in the world— as much as you would’ve hated to admit it a few weeks ago. Or months. It’s hard to remember how long it’s really been when you can only look out the window to see the sun crawl through the sky, but never reach.

But when he isn’t… your body is covered in cold goosebumps that have your limbs sore and wooden. You mirror his habit of biting down too hard, and slump into yourself. “I’m sorry, Tooru.” There’s a deep despair where your stomach would normally sit, that seems to needlessly press down on yourself. Your body is tired and cold, and this isn’t helping your anxiety. Before you can really process it, your breathing is short and choppy and there’s tears glazing your eyes as you stare at the expensive floors. “I- I just…” you mumble, shaking a little as you lift a hand to brush under your nose.

Tooru is good to you. Tooru is so good to you when you let him.

“I just wanted to know if Eita was… doing okay.” Your squeezed voice manages to spit the words out, though you don’t really want to. But you know better than to make him wait for an explanation, so when the tears start to wobble along your waterline and blur your vision, you just close your eyes and swallow it down. “I wasn’t trying to be ungrateful.”

You hear the creak of the lacquered planks underneath his feet before his fingers come to your cheek, smoothing along the soft skin to let out a deep sigh. “I know you weren’t, sweet girl. You’re my little angel, hm?” However unfair it feels to lean into his touch, you feel all warm when he steps close enough to let you bury yourself back into his chest, protected from the world. Protected from him— by his own doing. The irony doesn’t escape you; but the chain around your ankle is so heavy. It’s much easier to just melt into his touch.

Tooru’s gentle when he motions to pick you up into his arms, large body not faltering to lift you up against him like the floor might swallow you up with too much touch. Instead you’re forced to hang onto him, cling to his body for support— as you always end up doing. “You miss him?” His lips are soft against your collarbone where he places a few kisses, then makes you pull away enough to kiss your lips. You hum, at least you think you do, before he kisses you harder to shut you up. He’s not really listening anyway; or if he is, it wouldn’t change anything.

You know this just as well as Tooru makes you cling tightly onto his body to crawl onto the mattress and set you down under him, hands roaming along your ass, your thighs, up your sides to slip under your flowy dress. He chuckles when you squeak at his chilly fingers on your skin, but doesn’t apologize. He won’t. You’re used to it by now— and even if he did it wouldn’t make anything easier.

+

You’re not comfortable. And you have no problem showing it as you pace around the entrance and knock at the door again, hissing little curses under your breath. Until the door is pulled open, and a very unimpressed Eita stares you down with narrowed eyes. You don’t wait for your big brother’s permission to step around him into the room as you tie your hair up away from your neck, before plopping down into his extremely luxurious bed. “Oh, come inside, please,” Eita grimaces sarcastically at the place where you stood, waving his hand about with an unenthused motion, closing the door again.

“Don’t leave me alone with these people, niisan,” is the first thing out of your mouth, before he even has a chance to ask. “Don’t leave me alone with these people, please. I don’t want to do it.” You’re knowingly childish and dramatic and you roll onto your back, because it works a little too well on him. You stare at him with the best teary puppy eyes you have -not that they’re really an act- and suck your bottom lip into your mouth. “And besides, mom and dad are giving me no choice in the matter, and you know how I feel about crowded parties.”

Your older brother sighs as he regards you, eyebrows already tilting up in a sort of angled motion that shows his concern clearly on his face, before gripping one of the bed posts and leaning his shoulder into it. “It’s your name day.” The soft draw of his voice and his little smile go back to quiet too fast, and you can’t help but mirror the gesture.

“Don’t wanna have a ball. Just wanna stay in here with you.” You’re splayed out onto his covers when he sits down and hums, brushes a gentle hand along your head that falls still after a few pets. He can’t say anything about it, even if he did have a good solution— and by the expression, you’re guessing he doesn’t. After a few more seconds of extended silence, you shuffle a bit closer to put your head on his thigh as his hand follows. “If I hide myself under your bed before tonight, you can just pretend like you never even saw me- and I’ll be really quiet. The guards won’t check here. Please, niichan?”

Eita chuckles when you pull his soft shirt, amusement at your actions never far off, but eventually the smile wears off for a tighter lipped expression. “I’m sorry, I can’t stay tonight. We have a patrol around the bridge; and dad isn’t going to let me off the hook for just any old reason.” He looks worried, something that upsets you more than you’d like it to. But his doubts always soon turn into your doubts too, and Eita isn’t one to make a big deal out of nothing.

“Problems?” He nods yes.

“Oikawa-san related problems?” He doesn’t nod for that one, but you can read him well enough to know. “Don’t go, niichan, please don’t go. I heard they stabbed one of our guards last time for no reason, who knows what they’ll do if any of them notice you’re there too. What if you get hurt- o-or worse?”

“Relax, okay? Calm. Dad’s not putting me in charge of being on the front lines. I’m there for any possible amiable talks if one of the Oikawa’s does show. The father or the son, either works.” He lets out a deep sigh, rolls his eyes at the mere thought. Eita’s good at being a voice for your family, charming and kind, but self-aware enough not to get trampled all over by other smooth talkers. He’s good at it, even if he doesn’t like it. His hand moves back over your head from your forehead to your crown. “Which means you’ll be in this alone, ‘m sorry.”

Ugh.

Sorry doesn’t help you.

You get painfully restless when you have to deal with it alone. Not nearly as prickly as you like to posture yourself, because at the end of the night, it’s really all you have. Without Eita here— you’re losing your edge quick. 

You want another drink. The allied families have gathered for your name day ball, their sons and daughters and guards sprawling all over the place as you try to make it across the room without being halted. Which you manage, walking with downcast eyes as the chill of the room travels up your spine. You only steal a flute of something strong to nurse on, stomach too tight for anything more, before making your way back towards the dancefloor. Only, you barely make it halfway before you’re tapped on the shoulder passing the back room, and a sigh makes way out of your body before you can think. A strong hand pulls at the edge of your sleeve, stopping you with a soft ‘psst’. You turn to face the sound, only to stumble back a step at the tall man leaning into your space.

“Hello again,” his grin grows wide and wolfish when you don’t respond, before he motions behind him. Into the space hidden from direct view by the mosaic accent wall, not dark enough to cause any worry. “Come out here with me for a second,” he asks, his pretty voice lilting up like a song.

You can’t place his face, but he feels so familiar.

+

You don’t know why you’re remembering this now. Not when Tooru is over you, pushing your knees up to your chest to let his tongue peek out between his teeth and a loud groan bounces around the room. He’s breathing heavily, lazy circles of his thumbs into the soft flesh of your thighs. Your silky nightgown is shoved up on your belly and digs into your shoulders a little, but he soon decides that’s not enough either. One large hand coming onto your belly to pet and paw at the soft, vulnerable skin and moving your clothing aside further. “Tooru,” you mewl, and he hums.

“So fucking pretty. So pretty for me, that’s a good girl.” His strong, lined thighs flex as he pushes up against you, letting your nails run along to skin with a soft sigh. You love hearing him. It’s funny in a way, because how loud and vocal he was about enjoying you was the thing you hated most just a little while ago. Even when he smacked and groaned into your cunt, or bit marks down your neck, or forced his fingers into you with a gleeful chuckle. Now it gives you shivers down your spine, and you’re fighting to even pull them out of him more. Praises, and the way he says your name like a prayer. “My angel, all mine.”

His body is too wide to comfortably fit, so he urges your legs up either side of his shoulders; his pretty, flushed cock twitching up against his belly and the soft trail of hair running down. “Gonna fill you back up, ‘kay? Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re whining without help, pussy drooling and keeping everything a wet, sticky mess. How he likes you most, is like this. Giving fully into his depraved way of hauling you around like a doll. His fingertips are a little coarse when rubbing around the top of your slit, just teasing your entrance enough to have you choked up. “Tooru~ give it to me please. Want to feel your hands on my tits and your cock filling me up. ‘M so cold without you. Please— p-please.” He shudders above you as you whine his name so sweetly, so needy.

“Yeah?” He knows it, you can tell by the way his mouth corners quirk up and his free hand wraps around his cock to give himself a few lazy strokes, before lining up with you. It didn’t used to be true, but everything before Tooru seems so long ago now. So long ago it barely feels real anymore. The rubbing of your clit doesn’t let up, and the tingles spread all through your body. Then he leans into you more, using the pushback of your legs as all the encouragement he needs to slide the head into your tight, little cunt— force your wiggling lower half still as he slips the head in with one smooth motion. “Ahgh, fuck. That’s a good girl. So good.”

You’re shaking, one orgasm in from before and now he’s pushing in, it’s an almost unbearable fit. “Uhn- Tooru, T-tooru, you’re so…” Your mouth drops open as he works more of his thick, heavy cock into you, slick squelching of your body accepting him too loud in the silence. You shiver and pant as he places a hand next to your head to hold himself up over you to kiss you. His muscles flex as he pulls you down onto him more, stretching you out inch by inch until you’re only half aware of the reality around you.

“This is what you wanted,” he sighs, filling you up all the way for an almost painfully tight fit, bottomed out with a soft moan. His hand comes to capture your face, forcing another kiss on your lips. “You asked for this, y’know that?” You can’t really listen well as he’s talking and taking you all the same, pulling his hips back to study your face like you’re really a gift from God— something for him to keep and cherish. His eyes are a little unfocussed as they take in every detail of your expression, fucking back into you.

“Holy— f-fuck, ah-huh, Tooru. Tooru!”

“You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted me to steal you away.” He’s still talking, leaning in as his rhythm slowly is building and the lewd slapping of skin to skin becomes undeniable. All you know is that one second he’s kissing you, the next he’s spewing filt into your ear, brushing the shell with his plush lips. “You wanted to be fucked full of my cum and bred like a little wife. Say it.” His breath along your sensitive throat. Everything is sensitive as he fucking into you deep and hard, bumping your cervix with the angle.

Your legs tighten around his shoulders as you let him force his cock in and out of your messy hole, slick pooling under your body onto the mattress. “Say it for me. Say ‘I wanted to be Oikawa Tooru’s little wife’. C’mon.” He stops thrusting for a few seconds to brush his thumb along the seam of your lips, forcing your mouth open and your tongue jutting out. On instinct, you moan when he pushes the rough pad of his thumb onto it, spit collecting on the pink muscle. “Oh, you’re such a dream, baby. Drive me fucking wild.”

He does look wild leaning down to kiss you even with his thumb still holding your mouth open, making the motion exceedingly messy. His tongue taking over yours into a sloppy, open mouth kiss with his obnoxious sucking noises driving you totally into a daze. He kisses and licks until you’re out of breath and push at his shoulder softly, before pulling away to watch you gasp as he forces his cock back right against your deepest point. To drive the point home he places his back to cup your stomach and pushes a little to make the fit even tighter, if possible. “Tell me what I wanna hear. Don’t make me get upset.”

“W-wanna—” you interrupt yourself with a long while, thighs shaking around his wide stature with how relentlessly he’s fucking into you now. The loud pap, pap, pap makes you distracted, so you squeeze your eyes closed. “Wanted t’ be Oikawa Tooru’s little wife—uhh.” He grunts, fucks into your slick walls hard enough to bounce you up on the bed. You grab your tits to pinch the pebbled buds between your fingers as he kisses you again, then moaning too.

“Yeah?”

“Yea~” you quickly agree, teary eyes cracking open to watch his perfect lips quirk into a knowing smile.

“Mean it?” You nod again, and he grabs your hips with two hands to piston himself out of your sloppy pussy, making even more wetness run down each time he pulls back. His neck and chest is flushed from the effort, forehead a little glossy. But he still keeps going without break, heavy balls slapping against you as he pounds into your cunt. “Say you’re going to be mine forever.”

“Forever.” You’re crying, and Tooru doesn’t stop. In fact, his grin grows a bit wider as he watches you struggle to place all the emotions you’re feeling right now. His hand is impatient as it brushes over the soft roundness of your growing belly, knowing it to be true. You can’t go anywhere even if you tried. Not with the little pouch under his hand growing a little more each day.

The deeply mangled mix between affection and disgust rears it’s head loud and ugly as he pulls out of you for a bit to watch your hole clench around nothing, forcing so much wetness out of you. You’re glistening by no effort of his own, and he beams in glee. When he leans back to your face you can only stare at the way his pupils are wide enough to take up almost the entire ring of chestnut brown, and he tells you to stick out your tongue.

You do, to let Tooru stick out his own and lick up the length of your sensitive tongue, before sucking on the tip of it until your chin and lips are covered in spit. Then he makes you hold open your mouth for him to spit onto, warm and degrading right onto the middle of your squirming, little tongue. “Swallow it.” You shake your head once, tears rolling down your cheeks as you sniffle, holding out your tongue for his display. But he doesn’t take it, and lines himself back up with your cunt for another ruthless pace, deeper and slower. “You belong to me. Don’t fucking drop any of it.” With a sharp thrust right into your sensitive cunt he pushes your mouth closed and places his hand over your mouth until you do as you’re told.

His spit goes down with your cry of his name, letting him rub your clit until you’re spasming around his heavy girth. Your body can’t take any more. He knows it, feels the way you’re clenching around him to circle the over-stimulated nub and fucks you through a brain-numbing high. Your vision blurs into explosions of black and white as you cum so hard your toes curl and your back lifts off the plush mattress, pulling at the soft, wispy hairs at the base of his skull. And Tooru doesn’t stop until you’re trembling from the touch, until he’s shooting his hot, white load into your pussy.

You drop back exhausted, trembling for Tooru to let you off gently. He doesn’t though, fingers sliding between your legs to force his cum back into your hole with a love-struck expression.

+

“Iwaizumi saaan~” Oikawa whines long and loud, throwing around the food on his plate with all the theatrics of a toddler. It gets on Iwa’s nerves quickly, the dark haired man slamming his fist down hard enough to shock him into silence for a few seconds. Only a few though, before he clicks his tongue. “If I knew you were going to be such a bad sport about it, I wouldn’t have told you.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” his friend glares, tenseness in his brows making him look a couple years older than he is. “You’re still not forgiven for your stunt the other night, and now you tell me — this? Of all the mind-numbingly stupid things you could say…”

“What if it’s real love, Iwa-chan?”

“It’s not.”

You don’t know that. Oikawa doesn’t say it out loud, launching one of the green beans into the grass by his feet. The sun is hot and high in the sky, which means he has about 6 hours to convince Iwa to go with him, or at least to figure out a way to get around his best friend stopping him. He really stabbed himself in the foot by telling.

The thought of your eyes meeting his flashes through his mind, and he picks up the napkin from his lap to place it on the table as he stands. He’s already made up his mind, whether or not Iwa comes.

“The Semi family isn’t to be messed with, Shitty-kawa. If your parents knew- Hell, if anyone else knew- they’d sit you on permanent house arrest. You can’t go back there again.” His friend messes with the tie of his sword that secures it to his waist, and rolls his eyes. “Not for some long lashes and a tight-”

“Iwa,” his voice is low and warning, teeth clenched, “watch your mouth.” The anger that fills him at the insult to even your mere existence is irrational, considering he felt this same way days ago, but— all of that is in the past, isn’t it? Family feuds are silly when it comes to new generations. You made him realize that, in the few days it’s been since he’s had to miss you. Truth is, he can’t get you out of his head. The feeling has taken over him, and he’s not interested in putting a downer on it. Not when it feels so goddamn good.

“I have a plan,” he admits after a second, glancing aside to the other man with a wide grin. “We’d be in and out, that’s all. A quick, friendly visit, if you will.”

+

You know you shouldn’t have asked him. Every time in the past year when Tooru would manage to sneak into your gardens, leaving your own house a few guards weaker all the while, you’re still pretty sure that was mostly the stern guard’s doing. You never asked to confirm, but the way he hovers around the two of you whenever your husband allows you an afternoon in the courtyard or strolling down the street says enough. Iwaizumi isn’t on your side in this, and the roughened knuckles or splatters of blood on his arms are enough to have you keeping quiet on most things.

Unlike the brunet who’s demanding at best, Iwaizumi just seems uninterested. Even when Tooru parades you down the halls of his palace-like home once in a blue moon, there’s no doubt that the quiet footsteps following not too far behind are his. But— you didn’t have any other choice, and as days turn into weeks of not a word spoken about your family; you break the mock peace a little. Just enough to see the light—

Just enough to let Tooru in even deeper, putting his roots firmly into you. It doesn’t surprise you anymore when he takes the entire morning bathing with you, kissing your stomach each chance he gets. The fingers he trails down your spine, the thumb he brushes over your ring. You’re sure that if he could, he’d have made your ring a few sizes too small, so that you could never take it off again. You’re sure he’d make you regret it if you did. But when all of the routine, practiced gestures of love are done; the feeling doesn’t linger.

There’s no more surprise at just how cruel he can be with his ideas— you thought, you said that to him too, one of those nights shattering under painful insecurity and solitude. If only you never asked Iwaizumi about the truth, the traitor wouldn’t have told Oikawa about it. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here right now, skin a few shades lighter than normal and tearing up as he clamps your arm under his like a real couple. You wouldn’t be forced to stare straight into your brother’s disbelieving eyes as he takes you in with pure betrayal under the guise of “peace talks”.

“I’m sure our families will be able to find common ground.” Tooru’s smiling. You haven’t tore your eyes from Eita’s restless stature from the second you spotted him in this mess; but you know he is. That perfectly composed smile that’d be able to make houses crumple under the pressure. The same picture perfect way of saying every right word that made you fall into his hands. And there’s nothing you can do, nothing you can say. You can only stare in shame at your brother’s defeated expression when he makes a face at the ring on your finger.

Tooru’s gloating feels normal now. The warmth of his body on yours is comforting. It makes you sick. “After all, for our future generations,” his voice is a soft, amused lilt when you shiver slightly under the meanly timed rubbing of your belly, “for our children… holding grudges won’t help, will it?”

“R-Right…” Eita blanks when looking between the two of you for a few times. “So you—”

“We did have to rush our wedding a little, so you have my apologies,” your husband stares straight into the other’s eyes, eyes glittering with his words. “We sent letters, but they might have gotten to you late, I presume.”

“No letters. W-We didn’t get any letters. Or any word as to where you’d gone,” your brother angles that last comment at you, and it takes everything in your power not to reach out and grab his hand; beg you to take you back into the family. For his help.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tooru cuts off your thoughts by petting down your back, soft enough to set your skin on end. “We both really wanted you there.” A little while ago, you would’ve believed his expression genuine. But every part of it is a cruel reminder that if you hadn’t been so damn naïve, maybe things would be different. Maybe you wouldn’t be forced to clamp your fingers a little harder around his just to soothe him. Maybe you wouldn’t have to fight yourself to smile, as your heart is being ripped out by his greedy hands. If you get through this, if you can just make it back home—

The image that flashes through your mind first is your shared bed with Tooru, the heat of his body warming your skin. Your bottom lip wobbles. As you have to face Eita again, his brows angle into a frown, but his eyes are glossy. You didn’t ever get to see your brother cry that much, you suppose. Tooru pulls you closer into him when he notices your drop in mood, softening up just a little. Eita nods, lost for words, his eyes only just settling on yours before he’s turning away. You didn’t get to explain, and you… you probably won’t. It’s been months. There’s nothing more to say that hasn’t been made clear right here.

And Tooru squeezes your hand, before nudging your eyes back to his, laying a sweet kiss on your lips. “You’re the one who wanted us to get along, right? You’re the one who wanted to see how your brother was doing…” He raises an eyebrow, cupping your cheeks to pet the lines of tears away. “Don’t cry, my love. You did so well. Always do so well for me, angel.” Then he kisses you again, a proper one now— and you let him pull you to his body like you’re two lovesick fools. These days… that might not be so far off anymore.

+

It’s not like you to talk to strangers.

But your curiosity is a bit too much to contain. And you know you’ve seen this man before, you just can’t— place where from. Your hands are laced politely behind your back as you stroll side to side for a few steps, the outer porch at peace this late at night. “Tooru?” you try the name out in your mouth as your feet plant steps from the door, knowing full well you shouldn’t run off.

“Yes,” the brunet lifts his shoulders, before stuffing one hand into his pocket. “Just Tooru, I— live not too far down the street from here. My parents are acquainted with yours.” That must be where you’ve seen him from… The way he speaks is easy, a confident smile on his lips as he rocks onto his heels. “That’s Iwa-chan,” he suddenly says then, pointing over his shoulder at the man poised against the far wall with his arms crossed over a wide chest— looking none too pleased.

Still, he throws up a hand in greeting, mumbling a tight “hi.” You return it, curtoseing a bit lower than your dress really allows you.

“So…” you glance back at the one to your side, eyes going a bit bigger as you have to look up at him. “Won’t you come in? It’s pretty cold out here. Besides, I’m not r-really supposed to… sneak off.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Tooru nods, sitting down onto the edge of the railing with a thoughtful pout, glancing between you and the door, “you’re probably a bit too beautiful to leave unattended. If it were me, I wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes from you either.” He says it so easily that heat instantly flies to your ears and cheeks, mouth cracking open for a retort that doesn’t come. “But… it is a bit cruel to keep you locked away in here, isn’t it?”

He smiles wide enough for his eyes to crinkle into charming little moons, his handsome face getting a pink tinge to his nose and cheeks. “Ah, forget that, I’m sure you don’t mind it. I’m not here to start trouble… I didn’t bring you a proper present, angel,” he straightens up, stepping right up to your body, and goosebumps break out over your arms, “sorry.” His face is lit so nicely by the moon, making his delicate features look even nicer framed by dark hair and long lashes. He knows he’s charming- but damn him, is it working.

“Oh, it- it’s really no problem…” you flush with heat when he hums, pursing his pretty lips into a little frown.

“But can I at least offer the birthday girl a dance?”

He holds his large palm out for you, expression soft and weirdly genuine. You can’t help but wonder how this is the very first time you can recall hearing his voice, or his name— since you used to play with all the kids down the street since you were little. But it’s easy to brush off any doubts when you place your hand in his and he lays a soft kiss on it, squeezing a little. His other hand comes to rest on the small of your back, pulling you in close enough to have you swooning. You’re not normally so weak to a bit of flirtation, that’s common in high society anyway.

But something about the way he looks at you, so full of affection and care— it’s endearing. You let him lead you into a dance and hold onto his shoulder with a giggle. He sways you side to side to the soft melody of the piano somewhere in the building with a grin as he breathes a ‘left, right, left- left, right, left’ on beat, laughing with you as it sends you into a fit of giggles. “Stop laughing, I’m trying to be serious here,” he huffs, though it’s not long before he’s back to smiling down at you like you put the stars in the sky.

“Then don’t make me laugh,” you whisper back, voice lowering in volume as he leans into you so close you can make out his individual eyelashes. It’s too close for comfort, and you jerk back to place a respectable distance between your faces.

He notices, and gives a quick grimace. “Sorry. I just- I’ve never…” The reflection of the moon in his pretty brown eyes is enough to keep you hanging onto his every word, “I’ve just never seen anyone like you before.” It’s a landing hit, striking right into your poor, romantic heart. The softness with which he handles you, pats your dress down from the breeze before running a hand through his full head of hair is a little too practiced, a little too polished— but who cares.

“O— Tooru,” Iwa-chan suddenly calls from his spot away, you’d completely forgotten he was even there. His brows are wound tightly together as he places a hand on the handle of his sword. A… sword? You don’t get to linger on the thought before he steps nearer and your heart sinks to your feet. Did they come to— “We have to get going, more guards will come.”

If Tooru notices the way you’ve been spooked, he doesn’t mind it, too busy being love-struck to think through his actions. He clasps your hands between his and tilts your face back to focus on him, smiling wide. “I’ll come see you again, angel.”

“Tooru!”

“Yeah, yeah-” he hisses back, before leaning into his bow and placing a quick kiss on your cheek, as you freeze in place. “Later, pretty girl,” he nods, leaning in for another kiss to the back of your hand before you can pull it away. “I’ll come back for you!” he says it like he means it, winking as his friend slips back into the darkness of the stretched out flower beds. But despite everything he just said, you force yourself back towards the door. And tell yourself this will be the last of your chance encounters.

You’re wrong.

There’s no real buildup. Just the darkness surrounding you and the panicked wheezing of your breath against the cloth tied over your head. You hear steps, and voices, but nothing to prepare you for the soft, familiar sound of his sing-song voice only steps away from you. “Close the door behind you. Oh and Iwa-chan? I owe you.”

“I don’t wanna hear about this ever again,” the other voice sighs, before the click of a door sounds. And though you have the pressing, terrifying realization that you know those voices, it doesn’t really connect. Not as he squats beside you to take your hand in his like he’s done about a dozen times by this point, or not even when the claustrophobic rag is removed and you’re staring at those sweet, brown eyes. You can’t breathe, can’t so much as blink as Tooru brushes his fingers along your cheeks with that sickening kind of kindness. The kind that demands trust, even when people don’t deserve it.

You shiver under his touch, before he takes a deep breath and sits down fully in front of you. “There you are. No need to look so shaken, angel.” There’s a tense silence as you watch him watch you, every fiber of your being screaming in sync. After a few seconds, he cracks a smile after sighing. “A lot happened, so you’ll have to give me a moment to explain, love.”

Your mouth drops open without thought. “Explain? Wh-What are you— where are we? Why am I here? What are you doing, Tooru?!” Tears spring up behind your eyes, as you try to bite through them. “Were you the- the one who— took me?”

“I saved you,” he breathes out, low enough to make your skin itch. His eyes turn ice cold for only a second, before going back to the cheery nonchalance you’ve come to expect these last few weeks. “I saved you,” he repeats, “though I wouldn’t expect you to know that. That doesn’t matter though. You’re safe now, and look…” He motions around the room then, which you take as the first real opportunity to do.

And—

The banner hung right above the bed is painfully familiar, a pretty teal that shines under the sunlight. “We’ve made it home safe.”

“Oikawa…”

“I know, right?” His chuckle is awfully distracting to your already muffled thoughts, only amplified more when he scoots a bit closer so you’re knees to knees. “The chance of us two falling in love is… some kind of curse, I’m sure. You’re lucky I’m no quitter. It definitely wasn’t easy to get into your room from the balcony. But I always manage.” His pretty brown hair falls messily over his forehead as he reaches for your second hand, pushing your bound legs aside a bit.

Brown, floppy hair, long legs, deadly handsome smile on an equally pretty face— something in the back of your mind slowly clicks into place as you remember one summer years ago. How Eita had told you about the world, about the people wanting you gone; and their son, only a few years older than you. “You’re Oikawa Tooru.” Fear keeps you frozen in place when he laughs again, leaning in so he can rest his forehead against yours.

“Ding ding ding. Knew you’d get it.”

He leans in to place a kiss onto your mouth, when you finally gather yourself enough to break out of the trace to shove at him and scoot back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Have you lost your mind?”

He doesn’t even miss a beat, getting up from the floor to reach for you with a concerned look. “Ah, come now. Don’t be so dramatic, angel.” He stops you from trying to untie the rope by your feet by yanking your arms away with a tight grip, and tilts his head. “Stop it, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Your eyes go wide when he calmly forces your arms behind you without too much effort, so much bigger and stronger now that it’s being used against you. You squeak out a desperate ‘help me’, but even as you do, the shaking of your voice overtakes it. No one here is on your side. You know that.

“Your parents were — stop that— going to marry you off. I helped you!” He’s strong enough to even hold your arms in his one hand as you fight against him, as Tooru slots an arm under your thighs to throw you over his shoulder. Your tears taste salty as you cry at your useless struggle, breath knocked out of you when you’re tossed ungracefully on the bed. “I’m going to protect you, angel.” As he tries to get on too, you kick both your feet hard onto his right thigh and he tumbles. “God— ah, damn! That hurt, baby.”

You can’t get anywhere though, trying to dig your nails into the rope without results. It’s not giving in. “If you’re going to hurt me,” he mumbles while grabbing your face, looking more saddened than annoyed, “who knows what might happen to you? I don’t like getting violent, angel.” He takes a short pause to brush some hair out of your eyes, before placing his knees onto your thighs and painfully pinning you in place. “Don’t struggle so much. I’ll make this so easy for you.”

His scent is sweet as ever, as your sniffles are shut up by a soft kiss, before he shushes you with his hands softly moving up and down your shoulders. “All you have to do,” a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “-it’s simple-”, a kiss under your jaw, “all I need you to do is let it happen.” A kiss on your sensitive throat, as you try to close your eyes against the pools of tears rolling thickly out of your eyes. “It’s so, so easy, angel. Just let me.” Large, warm hands travel along your thighs over your dress, before slipping the silk upwards.

“You don’t want to marry some brat you barely know. I know you don’t.” He shakes his head side to side once against the skin of your neck, his breathing brushing down your cleavage, before clicking his tongue with a decisive word. “No. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Tooru,” is the pathetic one word you manage to squeak out, grabbing at his shoulders with shaky hands. You’re tired. You’re awfully cold too. And as he noses down the valley of your tits over your flimsy dress, shivers make their way up your spine. He lets one hand move back to your legs to slip his long fingers in between, petting your sensitive pussy over your panties. “Please, I don’t— c-can’t-”

“I know, angel. I know it’s a little fast; trust me— if it were up to me I’d take it more slowly too.” He pulls the front of the dress until your nipple is exposed, before pressing a kiss to the place where your heart is pounding like a hummingbird in your chest. Then he licks over the pebbled nub, sucking in into his mouth with a soft hum.

“Uhuh, so pretty for me. That’s a good girl.” He pushes your legs apart until he can fit in between them, and yanks the last bit of coverage you have aside, not allowing you to cover yourself with your hands. “Just relax. Just have to- ah- make sure,” he rubs a thumb over your pussy as you throw your head back, burying your tear-ridden face in your arms, “you can’t run. Put up with it for me, angel.”

He’s impatient as he spits onto your pussy, rubbing it over your hole with an entranced look, rubbing his hardening cock against your thigh. His fingers making sure that despite the crying, your body can’t help but accept the pleasure. It feels different when Tooru’s doing it.

“Let me give you a little Oikawa of your own, hm? You’ll get used to it for me. I know you can.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2022. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

Something About You (04) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: friends au, vacation au, slow burn, romcom-ish vibe; adulting; inspired by AYS; PE teacher!JK and researcher!OC; fluff, comfort, smut (?)

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating, an aggressive man, minor injury (18+)

Word count: 16.5k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series Summary: You and Jungkook have been friends for a decade. And while he’s the charming and dependable, often reserved boy-next-door, he’s also just been a friend - a constant in your life, a part of a whole, and someone who’s seen all the flawed and probably unattractive sides of you.

A resumption of your friend group’s out-of-town trips has caused you to spend more time with him. And somewhere in between the morning coffee in the forest, running around in the snow, and watching the sunset on a boat, he’s become something more. And you’re not quite sure how to deal with it.

🎶: Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney || Yes or No by Jungkook

Spending the holidays in Busan brings about unparalleled comfort, as Jungkook fills his days with video games, hangouts with Jimin in their favorite spots, riding his motorcycle, and home cooked meals. 

Whenever he’s at home, he feels like a child where he does whatever he wants and where he’s doted on by his parents, which he can’t really argue with as an adult.

It grounds him somehow. It reminds him of how he felt growing up - wanting to be valued and taken care of but also being trusted and respected. He knows that his students feel the same way as middle and high school kids who are just starting to figure things out. It’s always a good start to his year, and it gives him clarity and that sense of direction.

That’s probably the only good thing about being home this year because other than that, he’s reminded of his physical distance from you, the time you’re not spending together, and the conversations and banter you’re not having. 

You’re back in your hometown, too, and he knows that the holidays with your relatives is your favorite thing in the world. You’ve always been close with your cousins, as most of you spent your childhood at your grandparents’ farm. Only you and Hayoung are based in Seoul so it’s a celebration every time you visit. It’s busy times, too, as you spend the days playing with your nieces and nephews and driving around the surrounding towns.

Jungkook knows this, so he looks forward to your or Hayoung’s messages in the group chat, which would usually just be photos or a funny story or a little accident that involves you. It’s the only time he actually reads the messages and that itself is an indication that he misses you terribly, much more than he expected he would.

The Sapporo trip suddenly feels like a lifetime ago. He spent everyday with you - seeing you in the morning, teasing you throughout the day, being in your little bubble of weirdness, talking about serious and mundane things, and falling asleep to your adorable soft snoring. 

He thought that spending it how he did was his way of settling into his feelings for you - just feeling it, trying to figure it out or understand it. He still doesn’t know how he got here, even if he could point to some moments where things started to change. 

Perhaps he’s only thinking about it as much as he is because you don’t think that could just happen to you - that you could just one day feel differently about a person you’ve known for years. You feel intensely, instantaneously, and he supposes if you were ever to like him, you would’ve done so a long time ago but that ship never sailed and he’s unsure if it ever will.

That still doesn’t stop him from thinking about you though. He sees your photos and reads your sometimes short and sometimes long narrations of what you’re doing and he imagines your pouty face or constant complaints and it makes him smile. 

He thinks of teasing you about stubbing your toe or getting followed by bugs or your slow walking and that makes him feel giddy, too. Even the thought of you talking about current events and the pervasiveness of patriarchy in every aspect of social life is something he seeks. 

And then there are the puppy eyes and sweet smile when you want something that makes him want to just give it all to you. But there’s also the affection - your hugs, your playful smacking, your shoulder leaning, and the occasional hand on top of his that makes his heart take a leap just reminiscing about it. 

He feels a little silly, as he’s perhaps had hundreds of those moments with you in the past but he’s never thought much about them until recently. Until after your trip to Chungbuk, if he’s being specific. 

And now he replays them in his head over and over again just because he wants more, even if he’s the one who’s not texting nor replying, and he’s slowly losing his mind.

It’s been two weeks and other than your messages to the group, both of you haven’t spoken. He knows you’re busy and he’s the one with spare time. He could easily reach out to you and you’ll probably reply, but given all this yearning, he’s nervous he’ll overdo it, that he’ll say or do something out of the ordinary and you’ll see right through him.  

It’s the day of his trip back to Seoul. He and Jimin will drive out in the afternoon and they’re spending their last few hours in his living room, just playing games after a morning of riding his bike around town. 

His best friend’s phone rings and he puts the call on speaker while trying to score a goal in a game of FIFA. 

“Jiminie!” your voice cuts through the crowd cheering sound effect. “How’s my annoying best friend doing without me?”

The surprise from hearing you causes Jungkook’s mind to go blank. It leaves Jimin free near the net and he scores a point. 

“Finally!” Jimin yells. “Did you see that, Kook? You sucked and I kicked a goal.”

Jungkook waves him off, his pride not too hurt because only he knows his momentary lapse was because of you and not for his lack of skills.

“You’re with Kook?!” You chirp.

“Yeah, we’re playing video games in his house,” Jimin replies.

“Kook! How are you?! I miss you!” You shriek. “I didn’t know if you were alive because you weren’t reacting to my messages in the group chat. Did you know that I almost slipped into a gutter? And that we went hiking with my cousins and I slid down my butt?”

“He knows because I told him,” Jimin says. “It’s not like he reads messages.”

“Hey, I do,” Jungkook corrects. He really does though, very rarely. Recently, all the time when it’s from you. “You also rode an ATV and got stuck in the mud.”

“So you read my messages! Why didn’t you reply then!” You whine. 

“It’s pointless to laugh at you if you can’t hear or see me,” he reasons. “But yes, I saw them. Everyone was posting about how their holidays were going so I read through them.”

“Well, you would’ve laughed hard if you saw me.”

“And then you would’ve smacked me for doing so,” Jungkook points out.

“That is very true. Then you would’ve scolded me but then proceeded to treat my wounds,” you giggle. “As expected. Anyway, what have you bums been up to?”

“What do bums do, ___?” Jimin replies after making a defensive play. “We literally just eat and play and ride around when we’re home. And it’s been perfect.”

“Sucks I’m not there to piss you off though,” you say.

“Right? This is what peaceful living is like,” your best friend responds. “But I’m gonna deal with your annoying ass soon so let me savor this.”

“You better,” you hum. “Did you get enough rest, Kook?”

“Lots of it actually,” he half lies. He spent much of these two weeks agonizing over being away from you. “But I guess I’m ready to get back to work. I’ll start coaching the taekwondo team next week.”

“Already? Isn’t it still the winter break?” You wonder.

“Training starts early because of the competition in March,” he answers.

“Ooh, new kids to cheer for?” you excitedly ask. 

“If you’re free on Wednesdays and Saturdays, sure,” Jungkook says. “But no pressure, ___.”

“I’ll make time,” you promise him. 

“Okay, then,” he hums, doing his best to keep his smile from forming over the thought of spending time with you again.

“Anyway, I just wanted to check up on my friends. Gonna go play with the kids at the park now,” you say. “Careful when you drive to the city! See you guys soon!”

“Miss you! I’m going to your place right when you get back!” Jimin sneaks in.

“Don’t hurt yourself!” Jungkook adds, and you respond to him in laughter, a sound he definitely misses.

Jimin drops the call and shifts his full focus on the game.

“Well, she sounds jolly. Glad she got her joy back,” Jimin comments. “I remember last year, I begged her to take a longer leave and spend another week with her family so she could deal with her burnout.”

“Did she stay?”

“No. She said she’d be more stressed with all the backlog.”

“How’d she get through that, by the way?” Jungkook asks, immediately being reminded of how uninvolved he was at certain points in your life.

“Mo-eum and I convinced her to talk to her manager and apparently others were feeling it, too, so there was a restructure that happened and it helped with her workload,” Jimin explains. “But she would also take her leaves because she barely did, and she tried her best to switch off once she clocked out and that also helped a lot. She didn’t talk about work when we were in Japan, didn’t she?”

“Nope, which is good. At least she got the help she needed,” Jungkook hums, content that even if he didn’t know the extent of your stress that time, you were able to deal with it properly. 

As an educator, he knows enough about burnout, especially when he has to deal with his students’ problems on top of just teaching them. He’s always tried to manage his emotions and compartmentalize. Working out and going back to playing the sports he loves helped him tremendously with that. 

“Yeah, she did. But she’s doing so much better now and I guess having Tae back and doing our trips again lifted her spirits even more. Like, she gets to take actual breaks and be around us,” Jimin shares. “I guess watching your students’ matches gave her something new to do, too. She really enjoyed that.”

“She did,” Jungkook smiles, realizing now how those afternoons of you cheering for his team was also beneficial for you. “And well, there’ll be other matches for her to watch.”

“Yeah, it should be fun,” Jimin nods. “Anyway, one more game. I’m beating you this time.”

Jungkook drops Jimin off at his place and spends the drive to his apartment thinking of you again. He knows that even with your ability to express yourself, there are some things you don’t share with everyone. There were times when you were open to him about your thoughts and feelings though, and he takes them as a sign of your feeling of comfort around him and of your trust.

He looks back at the instances where you’d thanked him for making you feel good about yourself, and while he thought it was a natural thing for him to do that, he realizes it probably meant more to you than he expected. He hopes he continues to make you feel at ease around him, as he realizes that that’s what he feels when he’s with you. 

There’s assurance and trust that you understand him. There’s comfort in your words no matter how playful or cheeky they are. There’s that affection over the things he does and his fondness over the things you do. And then there’s that desire to take care of you, to make you feel comforted and understood just the same. 

He takes a deep breath before he exits his car. Two weeks of being away from you and he’s settled into his feelings. He knows they’re not fleeting. He also knows they’re not just because he wants to be a better friend to you. 

As he checks his phone and sees a message from you in the group chat asking him and Jimin if they got home safely and tagging him to reply, Jungkook thinks that now is when he starts wanting more. 

And he’s not exactly sure how to go about it. Or if it’s a feeling you’ll even reciprocate.

It’s been three weeks since Jungkook returned to Seoul and two weeks since you did. You apparently had to use up your remaining leaves until mid-January so you decided to stay in Gwangju for a few more days. He knew that because he sent you a message after you announced it in the group chat, and you’ve sort of been texting each other since then. It’s not an all-day nor daily type of thing but it’s much better than not hearing from you at all. 

He told you that he got assigned to accompany the high school table tennis team to a competition in Sokcho for a few days after one of their assistant coaches got sick. You told him that you started working on your operations plan on your first day back at work and that you had to stay in Daejeon for a weekend to attend a conference because one of your managers couldn’t go. With that, he missed your friends’ Sunday lunch out, and then you missed dinner and drinks the Friday after that.

It’s now the end of January and Jungkook’s been living off of the occasional text messages from you and nothing more. As it’s the Saturday before the end of the winter break, he takes this time to relax and decides on making himself some bulguri noodles and then going for a jog later in the afternoon.

On your end, you intend on cleaning up your apartment after over a month of barely being around. You make a checklist in your head of what to do first when suddenly, your light turns off and for the briefest moment, you think you’re being haunted. But you remember it’s just past lunchtime and ghosts won’t appear until the evening.

You just paid your bills so that’s not the issue. You call your neighbor and find out that she has her light on, so it’s probably just you. So you ask for help. 

[to: My Elders] How do you change a lightbulb?

You know that searching online would lead to multiple results, which ironically is going to overwhelm you, so you ask your very adult, very capable friends for advice. Surely they’ll be able to instruct you properly.

[from: joonie] I’d tell you if I knew 

[from: uncle yoon] DON’T. TOUCH. ANYTHING.

[from: suhyeonie] please be careful!!

[from: jiminie pabo] someone pls get to her right away before she burns down her apartment or electrocutes herself

[from: my taetae] kook?

[from: bunny kook] coming

You sigh in relief once Jungkook confirms that he’s on his way. And while you think you can follow instructions had your friends called or sent them in - which they didn’t - it’s probably better if someone does it for you. Jungkook just happens to be the one who lives the closest. 

You try to clean up whatever you can while waiting for him but you only manage to fold some of your clothes before the intercom is ringing and you’re granting him access to come up. He rings the doorbell and you greet him immediately.

“My savior,” you chirp, fluttering your eyelashes.

“Yah, I’m already here,” he playfully shakes his head. “No need for puppy eyes or whatever that is.”

“It’s my thankful face!” You correct him. “Not that I expected anyone to be empathic to my plight but wow, our friends were not helpful. Except maybe for Tae, who asked you to come.”

“You know you can search online for this, right?” Jungkook chuckles as he gets your stool and starts unwinding your old lightbulb.

“Yeah but AI will tell me one thing, WikiHow will tell me another, so will TikTok… I just didn’t want to be overwhelmed.”

“You… a researcher… didn’t want to be overwhelmed with… information?” 

“Kook, since when did basic things make sense to me?” You pout.

“I’m pretty sure they’re not that hard to comprehend.”

“Look, if it didn’t involve a possible fire or electrocution, I’d manage,” you argue. “I mean, I can do other things. Just not… this. I’m scared to make a mess.”

You say it so softly and Jungkook hopes he didn’t make you feel bad or anything. It’s not that you expect people to just do everything for you because you actually watch others do them - like now, as you stand close to him and observe him as he replaces your old bulb with a new one. He just thinks there are things you can’t really grasp because you weren’t exposed to them. He knows you can manage yourself on a farm because you grew up going to one but when it comes to household management, you always had the rest of your family to do them for you. 

He finishes and turns on the switch to see if it’s working, and you squeal in joy when it does. 

You even go to him and give him a hug, which catches him off guard. He returns it though, and a part of him wishes he’d prepared for this so he wouldn’t act so nonchalant about it.

“___, it’s just a lightbulb,” he points out.

You let him go and laugh, not seeming bothered one bit. He was a little worried that he might come off as snobbish to you though, even if he thinks it’s something he’d totally say.

“It’s a belated hug, Kook. I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long,” you say.

“Because you haven’t. It’s been, what– 5, 6 weeks since Sapporo?”

“Yeah, that feels like a lifetime ago,” you sigh. “I wanna go back! But yeah, you haven’t been around to make fun of me and to take care of me so it feels that much longer. I kinda missed you.”

You say it so casually yet you have no idea how much it’s affecting him. Again, it’s something you’ve said to him so many times before. But it sounds different to him now, only because he wishes it carries a different meaning than you probably don’t intend. 

He can’t bring himself to say it back, only because he’s worried about how it’ll come out, so he expresses wanting to hang out with you instead… in a not so direct way.

“Well, I’m here and I changed your lightbulb, although I suggest getting an LED one so it’s more efficient and it’ll last long,” he advises, given that what you have is the incandescent one. “Do you wanna get one at the store? I can replace that already so you won’t have to worry about this one again.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you smile sweetly. “But now that you’ve mentioned it, maybe we can get a few more things?”

Jungkook chuckles to himself as he nods then sits on your couch while you change your clothes in the walk-in closet. He hoped for a quick run at the shops and maybe grab something to eat, perhaps talk more about how your past few weeks have been. 

But now, you’ll probably have more time together and that satisfies his desire of being around you. It truly has been so long that he was close to wondering if the Japan trip had been a dream.

The “things” you wanted to get turn out to be Pilates clothes. 

You and Jungkook arrived at the mall an hour ago and quickly got an LED light bulb at the home store. But then you dragged him to the other floor and into a shop full of leggings and tank tops and sports bras that he just looked at you blankly and you responded with a giggle.

He now awkwardly stands by one of the shelves with hoodies and has to act unbothered when he sees you pick up a few things, willing his mind not to go to places.

“I’ll be quick, I promise,” you say.

And you do keep it. He expected you to be in the fitting room for at least 30 minutes but you were done in 10. You say that you just need to try the size and you’ll get it in different colors. Efficient, and something he also does.

“Hayoung convinced me to get into Pilates,” you share as you grab the bag from the counter. “She said it’ll help with the stress. And getting my weakening body moving because I’m just in front of the screen most days. I thought I should give it a try so I signed up at the studio near my apartment and I just need to get the proper outfit for it.”

“That sounds good,” he smiles, softening at how you’re truly trying to manage your stress levels so as not to feel burnt out again. “I know that’ll help. When do you start?”

“Next week! So I just have to get these washed and then I’ll be good. I hope I don’t fall on my face while using the machine,” you suddenly frown.

“You won’t. Just don’t force yourself with the tension of the strings,” he advises. “You’re there to exercise and relax, not to get hurt. Yeah?”

“I’ll try. I’ll tell you how it goes,” you smile. 

“Can’t wait to hear it.” 

You mindlessly walk around and Jungkook just follows, not knowing what else you have in mind. He’s about to internally sulk at the thought that today might just end here when you stop in your tracks and turn to him. 

“Did you have anything else planned today?” You ask.

“Just a jog,” he shrugs, quickly adding that it’s something he can do tomorrow once your face falls a little. “Why? Did you want to buy anything else?”

“I don’t have an outfit for our all-white college reunion party,” you pout. 

“That’s in three months” he says. 

“Two and a half,” you correct. “I wanna get a dress already because I’m definitely gonna forget it. And so I have time to have it dry-cleaned. Do you have something to wear?”

“Uh, a white shirt?”

“Boo, corny,” you chide. “It’s gonna be at a Club, Kook,” you remind him, referring to the one owned by Jihyo, your friend from university who also organized the event.

“What else am I supposed to wear?” Jungkook laughs.

“Well, you can show up in a tank top and you’d still look nice,” you say nonchalantly as you head towards another direction.

“Did you just compliment my looks?” He jogs after you. “You’ve never done that!”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. I always praise your cute nose.”

“That… that was never a compliment,” he frowns.

But you don’t mind him, as you quickly enter a store and start looking around. 

He follows you and observes how you shop. You touch the items hanging on the shelf as you pass them by even if it’s not what you’re looking for. When you see something you think you like, you stare at it for a good five minutes before deciding to either try it on or put it back. When you do try on something, you’re quite expressive, as he could hear you groan or yelp even when he’s outside the fitting room area.

You leave another store empty-handed and you apologize for dragging him around and possibly boring him. He insists he’s fine and that it’s not like it’s something he hasn’t done before, clarifying that he’d accompanied Mo-eum to look for clothes a few times before as well. Obviously, he doesn’t want to imply anything by saying that he’s done this too many times with his ex-girlfriends but looking back, he wasn’t as entertained with them as he is with you. 

Though you tend to hyperfocus when you’re doing something, surprisingly when it comes to shopping, you’re very engaging. You ramble, like you often do, but you also ask him things and try to get his opinion. 

It’s been over an hour of looking around but you still haven’t found anything. The ones you like are too pricey and the others just don’t fit right. You find a newly-opened store and get excited when you see the clothes are your style and you quickly choose a couple for you to try on. He’s mindlessly looking around when he hears you call for him.

He sees your head peeking out of the curtains. With the sales person attending to another customer, you ask him to help you tie the straps of the dress you have on.

“They’re supposed to be ribbons but I can’t tie them properly,” you say. “Can you fix them so I can see if it’s nice?”

He nods as he works on them, trying his best to make the knot look pretty. You turn around so he can work on the other side and he does his best to not fall into the temptation of looking at you while he does. When he finishes, you face the mirror and smile.

“It looks pretty,” you beam.

“It does. So are you getting that?”

“Hmm, probably the other one,” you say, gesturing towards one of the several dresses hanging on the hook. “That one looked nicer.”

“Oh,” is all he can say. You already look pretty in this one so that could only mean that the other option is much prettier. “Okay.”

“Mission accomplished,” you smile at him now. “I’ll get dressed and get that!”

It’s late in the afternoon by the time you finish, and you’re reminded that you’ve only had some sweet bread all day and you’re starving, something Jungkook learns when your stomach starts to grumble.

“So… early dinner?” He chuckles. 

“Yes. And we’re having Japanese.”

He suggests a hotpot place after you said that you miss the soup he made on your last night in Sapporo. He comments that you seem to enjoy his cooking a lot and you remark that they’re very hearty and that he should cook for you more. It’s a request he doesn’t mind fulfilling, especially if that’ll mean being with you again.

You order a similar-tasting broth from the one he made, and you sigh in delight at just being able to take in the scent of a restaurant that reminds you of your trip from a few weeks ago.

“That week felt so fast,” you say. “The days were long and slow but they somehow still ended so soon. Did you enjoy that trip, Kook?”

“Of course. Why’d you think I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know. I hurt your abs and smacked you with a pillow and you gave me a piggyback ride and dealt with my injuries,” you shrug. 

“But I got free beer and a nice bottle of whiskey,” he reminds you.

“True. And I didn’t elbow your face when I slept next to you,” you remind him as well. 

“Yup, that was a very big factor,” he nods.

“I couldn’t hurt the nose,” you sweetly smile at him.

He just playfully shakes his head at you and you clarify that you just find it adorable. 

At least you find him charming, he thinks to himself.

You sit across from each other as you devour your dinner and talk about more stories of your visit to your hometown and how his weeks of training his students have been. You reminisce about Sapporo once more and mention the places you want to travel to in the future. 

You’re laughing about a memory from your Hong Kong trip years ago when Jungkook gets a call. When you find out it’s Taehyung on the other end, you ask for the phone to say hi.

“___!” Taehyung greets. “I was just asking Kook if he got to save your ass from being electrocuted or something.”

“Yes, he did,” you playfully roll your eyes. “Thanks for telling him to go to me though. I would’ve waited for him to pity me before I asked him to come over.”

“Nah, he would’ve gone to you either way,” your friend laughs. “Where are you now?”

“Having dinner out,” you say. “We bought an LED light bulb and I ended up running errands and I dragged him with me. Poor guy had to deal with my annoying ass today,” you add, as if lamenting on his behalf. “I at least didn’t trip or hurt myself.”

“That’s new,” Taehyung hums. “But I’m sure he doesn’t mind it. Anyway, I was just asking him to send me something. I’ll leave you two to your dinner. See you on Thursday after work?”

“Yes, at 5 PM,” you say, referring to this string quartet charity event you asked him to watch with you. “Here’s Kook.”

You give the phone back to Jungkook and slurp the remainder of soup in your bowl.

“Yeah, I’ve got all the ones you asked for. I’ll give the hard drive tomorrow. Bye!”

He drops the call and you ask him what Taehyung needed. 

“He asks me to download movies for him,” Jungkook says. “Like, the black and white Hollywood kind. They’re kinda hard to find.”

“Aww, Kook. That’s sweet. So you’re who he gets them from,” you smile. “So wait, can you download movies for me, too?”

“Sure, just tell me what you want. I can give you the hard drive on—”

“Saturday? There’s no rush. I won’t get to watch until the weekend, anyway.”

“Alright, then.”

“Thank you,” you smile at him again, the kind that’s meant to express your appreciation for all the things he does for you.

And the thing is, he doesn’t mind doing them. Even if he didn’t have these developing feelings for you, it’s something he’d still do. He’s never minded doing you favors or being collateral damage when you hurt yourself or having to take care of you when you do. He’d always done them willingly because it’s what he does for all his friends.

He supposes that the difference now is the anticipation of seeing you again when he does. It’s the excitement over knowing you’d ask him to do something and your accompanying smile and laughter. He supposes there’s more attachment in how he looks after you and in how he returns your affection. 

And now with every spontaneous day or planned weekend you make him share with you, he enjoys each minute of it. Not just through your ramblings but through your silence, too; not just in your moments of triumph but in your instances of doubt as well. 

It’s like settling into the feeling but more. It’s as if somewhere along the way of your friendship, he learned to settle into you. 

“I thought you wanted to watch this,” Jungkook mumbles as he munches on some popcorn. “Why are you covering your face?”

“Because it’s scary, duh,” you bite back as you wrap one arm around your folded legs while your other hand makes slits over your eyes. “The spirit's gonna kill the sons now!”

“Well yeah, that’s what bad spirits do,” he deadpans. “Why did you want to watch this in the first place?”

“Because I heard it’s a good mo– Ah!” You squeal. You wait for the next scene and try to catch your breath. “I heard it’s a good movie. Plus, I like horror. Didn’t you know that?”

“I do, I mean… you’re always up for it whenever I suggest watching one. You just scream a lot. I guess you could like something and not enjoy it all the time.”

“I enjoy it though,” you correct him. “Getting scared and stressed and yelling is all part of the fun. Just like how in rom-coms, the frustration over the two leads being dumb is part of the experience. You take it all and that makes everything so satisfying.”

Jungkook merely nods in agreement but lingers on what you just said. The more he spends time with you, the more he learns how contradictory you are as a person, which is something he admires so much about you. 

As a professional, you’re intellectual and decisive. You’re passionate and intentional and every single thing has a purpose or meaning for you. Outside of that, you feel intensely, whatever it is - fear, joy, wonder, anger, but you take them as part of a whole. You’re clumsy and disorganized sometimes. You’re affectionate and transparent yet there’s always something more that you feel and want, something that he’s unsure you’ve figured out yet. 

And as he sneaks a glance at your wide eyes and anxious face over the next scene, he can’t help but smile at how open you are to feeling what’s out there for you. It’s quite captivating to watch, as he’s one who prefers to feel things more moderately, and perhaps it’s why it took this long for his feelings for you to develop.

His thoughts are disrupted with your gasp, followed by milder curses than he expected, and then another shriek. He focuses on the movie now, as he’s sure you’re gonna wanna talk about it after, and it ends with your deep exhale and your satisfied smile. 

“That was good,” you say, as you grab a can of beer from your fridge and hand him one. 

You rehash the whole two hours while you sit next to him on the couch then conclude that you’re still a little creeped out so you state you want to watch something else. 

“The Thai movie about the grandmother,” you say, choosing from the long list of things you had him download.

“Are you sure?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Yes, I heard it’s good, too,” you shrug, already getting comfortable. 

“Okay, then.”

As it turns out, it’s as emotional as it is good. And you can’t stop the tears as they waterfall down your face, to the point that you can barely breathe through your nose. You, in fact, wail, and you can hear Jungkook stop himself from laughing, even if despite your glassy eyes, you can see him tear up as well. 

“You can cry, you know?” You turn to him, prompting him to pause the film. 

You’re sniffing and distorting your face and he chuckles in response. 

“I was about to but you started sobbing. It felt like your tears were good enough for the both of us,” he hums.

“It’s sad,” you pout. 

“I know, and you wanted this,” he points out. “But hey, part of the experience, right?”

You nod because it’s true. You’d rather watch comedy dramas that make you hurt so good or horror movies that make you jump off your seat over ones that barely make you feel anything at all. But you suppose that’s how you’ve always lived your life. 

People think you’re driven by logic and ideas all the time but you surprise yourself with how much you feel and how much that motivates you. But then again, that’s exactly why you’re in the field you’re in, and not everybody gets to understand or even see that.

Your tears remain and Jungkook scoots closer to wipe them off your cheeks with his paw sweaters. You meet his worried doe-eyes and you didn’t realize how innocent-looking yet expressive they are. You suddenly hiccup and he playfully shakes his head in response.

“I wanna laugh now,” you mumble.

“We’re going through the emotions of the wheel now, aren’t we?” Jungkook chuckles while proceeding to check his movie list again. “I’ve got–”

“What if we just watch Running Man reruns? I kinda don’t wanna be invested in characters again but I just don't wanna be sad anymore.”

“Then we go with that,” he nods. “And… uh, do you have anything I could cook for dinner?”

You check the time and realize it’s almost 7 PM. You had lunch out with Hayoung earlier then started your movie marathon with Jungkook when you got home. You’ve been with him for hours and it feels like time is flying. 

“Ramen?” 

“Sure, I can get two packs ready,” he hums, standing up to find his way around your tiny kitchen.

“I’ll also order pizza because I’m craving. What about chicken?”

“Hey, as long as it’s good food, I’m all in.”

As it turns out, eating Jungkook’s creamy ramen, then some pizza, and then some chicken wings over beer while laughing your bellies off is incredibly satisfying. You’re in tears for half of it because not only is the show funny, but so are Jungkook’s ridiculous side comments and imitation of the hosts and guests. You have to beg him to stop and let you breathe. 

This is one of the most unhinged you’d seen him and you don’t care one bit that you’re snorting in laughter or close to drooling at this point. Once you calm down, you stretch your legs on the floor where you’ve been since you started dinner, and you breathe deeply.

“I needed this,” you smile then turn to look at him. “I needed to laugh and just… be comfortable.”

“Why? Work bugging you down? Pilates not yet working?”

“Work is always stressful and I’ve accepted that. Pilates is something I’m still getting used to but it helped that one day I needed to relax,” you say. “But I guess I just needed to laugh and cry and stuff myself with good food and not worry about the next day or something. Thanks for coming over with your movie library and watching and eating with me, Kook. It was fun.”

“Glad I could help you with having a worry-free day like this,” he replies. “And honestly, it feels good to just do whatever you want and not really have plans. It’s why I spend my weekends the way I do.”

“So it feels good being with me, then?” you smirk.

“Of course. You’re a little chaotic sometimes,” he teases. “But it’s part of the fun. I get to let loose and watch you be a weirdo.”

“Well I’m glad,” you softly smile this time. “You’re a little weird sometimes, too. I get to enjoy myself a little bit more when I’m around you. I mean, I say that about the other guys as well but I guess we haven’t spent as much time together.”

“We do now.”

“I know. And it’s fun. I hope you don’t get sick of me yet.”

He could tease you and say he already is, but he doesn’t want to lie to you like that. He doesn’t want you to think that even a tiny part of him would prefer not having you around. 

The truth is, he’s been finding it harder to let a day pass without speaking to you, and he reminds himself to do things gradually and naturally despite the fear that you’d freak out and think of him differently just because he’s treating you differently. 

“Just keep being that way and I won’t,” he says instead.

“Hmm. That’s a relief. I will, then.”

Jungkook sees you again the next Wednesday after Jimin messaged to ask who was free for dinner and drinks after work. A few from the group made it, including you, and even if Jungkook was a few seats away, just knowing you were okay and enjoying Pilates and eating well was enough to appease him.

He sees you again on Saturday for a late celebration of Hoseok’s birthday where you hog the mic during karaoke despite being tone deaf and unable to hold a note. Jungkook tries to remember all the times this had happened before and if he had found you as endearing as he finds you now. 

He tries to make sure you’re okay the next day, and he ends up grabbing you some hangover soup and drinks just to get rid of the headache. You sleep for pretty much the whole day but those two hours with you was enough to get him through the week. 

You’re off to a work trip overseas over the next weekend so Jungkook decides to preoccupy himself with a full day of gaming and probably an evening swim. But then Taehyung comes over to hang out and with his friend leaving in a few months, Jungkook welcomes the company. 

Jimin joins for lunch then leaves for a shoot. Mo-eum drops by then leaves as well for a family dinner. 

It’s during the second half of the FIFA game they’re playing when Jungkook’s phone beeps. A small smile forms on his face when he glances at your multiple messages, perhaps to rant about the food like you did last night, or to say that the bugs were biting you again, or maybe to talk about some research project you came up with while taking a shit - because yes, it apparently happens. 

He hopes Taehyung doesn’t notice but his friend is quite observant, so he does. 

“Is ___ doing okay?” 

Jungkook misses a free kick at the sound of your name.

“What?”

Taehyung gestures towards the beeping phone. 

“___. That’s her, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jungkook hums as he finally checks your messages and learns that yes, it’s the food. 

You also got a papercut and he can imagine you whining about it. 

“She’s just… you know, talking about the conference she’s attending,” Jungkook continues as he sends replies of memes and questions of how it’s going and if the annoying guy from yesterday is still bugging you.

“Hmm, I see,” Taehyung hums as he attempts a kick. “I was with her last week, right? She had that charity event she asked me to attend with her. We had dinner after and she was laughing while texting someone. It was you.”

“Oh, right.”

Jungkook instantly remembers what both of you were talking about then.

“I was just telling her this vacation story of one of the teachers. It was funny.”

“Wow, how trivial. And to think you don’t even reply to me,” Taehyung chides.

“It’s because you prefer to call me! Or randomly show up at my door just like you did today,” Jungkook counters.

“Because you literally don’t reply!” 

Jungkook just shrugs and focuses on the match, hoping his friend would just drop it. Instead, he pauses the game.

“Okay, Kook. I’m gonna ask you a question and you gotta answer me honestly. Just remember that you’re a terrible liar.”

Jungkook groans in response. “What?”

“Do you… like ___?”

Jungkook could easily deny it, but he also knows that he is a terrible liar and Taehyung would figure it out anyway. So he answers after a few seconds and understates the truth.

“I… I guess there’s something more.”

“It’s a yes or a no.”

There’s another beat of silence, as Jungkook is nervous about verbalizing something he’s been keeping to himself for months.

“I mean, between shopping with her, downloading her movies, driving her around… it should be clear, right?” Taehyung presses further.

“Hey, I do those things for you,” Jungkook tries to defend himself as he feels like he’s being called out.

“Yah! Do you think I’m stupid? Do you steal glances at me, too?”

“No.”

“Exactly, but you do it with her. And you let her squish your cheeks and you hate it when we do it.”

“She’s always been much gentler,” Jungkook reasons.

“She rarely is but sure,” Taehyung chuckles. “So, you really do like her, huh?”

“It’s something that just happened,” Jungkook sighs, knowing there’s no point in hiding anymore. “I don’t even know how. I mean, we’ve been good friends for years, Tae. We’ve seen each other’s highs and lows. We’ve witnessed each other’s relationships and breakups, and we’ve just… always been around each other.”

Jungkook looks back at the days when it was all so simple, then suddenly being hit by a train from out of nowhere. 

“There was no fuss, no drama, no expectations, no desire. Just friends,” he continues. “And then one day it was like… suddenly she looked so cute whenever she complained or pouted. And then it was fun just watching her tell stories and be weird and be smart. And then it felt nice when she would do something nice for me. And then I liked how she looked whenever I did something nice for her. And then… and then she stood up for me to my ex then hugged me later that night and I haven’t stopped thinking about her since then.”

“So it started that night, huh?” Taehyung smiles. “Was it seeing her angry and defending you?”

“Yeah… and then seeing her be so gentle after that,” Jungkook hums. “It’s how she’s always been - intense, loyal, caring. I guess I’ve always admired those things about her. I’ve always enjoyed having her around but that comfort, that familiarity, that desire for something a bit chaotic but also reassuring that I get with her, it just suddenly felt different. And I just wanted more of that, I guess.”

“Was it really all sudden, though?” Taehyung wonders. “I mean, how could something like her presence and her quirks and all these good things about her be there all these years and then just be different one day?”

“I was thinking about that because I couldn’t really figure out how I could just feel differently about her.”

“And?”

“I settled into her, I think that’s what it was.”

Jungkook has been pondering on it since movie night at your place. It’s like moving into a house then becoming familiar with it over time, and then it becomes comfortable, and then it becomes a home. 

Sure, the floorboards creak and the faucet leaks sometimes and there’s a stain on the wall that won’t get off but it doesn’t matter, because he’s already settled in and he likes the place. He likes its flaws and wear and tears… It's all part of the experience. And friends are like that - there’s no changing or forcing anything. Friends kinda just adjust their way around each other over time and just fit together a certain way. 

That’s how it was with you.

He tries to explain this and Taehyung nods, understanding what he means because all his friends feel like home, too. 

“What was it like when it changed, then? When did it become more?” He asks.

“When I realized that, hey, I think I wanna hold hands in this home, too. I wanna kiss and cuddle and get to know every inch of it. I… I wanna stay here. Something like that.” 

Jungkook smiles, thinking back to that night you hugged him after a tough night. And how every time you’d done it since then made him want you to do it again. 

He thinks back to the moments these past months of your hands or arms brushing, and him wondering what it’s like to intertwine his fingers with yours. Maybe have you touch his cheeks again but look deeply into his eyes this time. 

Taehyung feels comforted by his friend being able to express his feelings like this, something he’s never really been that comfortable doing before. 

Jungkook feels deeply, but he’s a bit more reserved than most of their friends. He tends to express whatever he feels by being dependable, by being someone they could be around and not feel judged, by being encouraging in his quiet way. Even in his past relationships, Jungkook just seemed to suppress what he felt - whether it was love or affection or hurt or anger. To be able to articulate all that he feels for you in this way is quite special. Maybe you’re rubbing off on him.

“Hmm. Sounds like a couple we know. And they’re getting married in a few months,” Taehyung smiles now.

“I’m not even thinking about that far into the future,” Jungkook frowns.

“I know but that’s not the point,” Taehyung corrects. “I just meant that it happens, Kook. That’s how some love stories go. Just like with my brother. He and Hayoung got along so well that we just kept secretly waiting for them to finally get together. And they did, seven years after they met. Because that friendship just naturally became deeper and blossomed into something more. I mean, it’s a natural thing. Like you said, you just learn to… settle into someone. You gravitate towards them, feel like they’re a person you can tuck yourself in and just be comfortable with and that’s such a beautiful feeling. I’ve witnessed it with them and I’m witnessing it with you, too.”

“Is that how you knew?” Jungkook chuckles as he shakes his head, unsure if his friend is just that perceptive or if he’s that transparent. “Because you’ve seen it happen with your brother?”

“Sort of,” Taehyung hums. “But I’m close to her, Kook. And I know how I am with her. I’m fond of her, I’m amazed by her, I want to take care of her, but she also drives me crazy sometimes. In a very sibling-like way because that’s how I treat her. That’s how I see her. I saw how you took care of her during the flight to Japan. I saw how you smiled every time she did. Even when she was being a brat, you just… wanted to be there for her. And it’s different from how Jimin or I treat her.”

Jungkook nods, thinking now that perhaps those times in Sapporo when his friend looked at both of you smiling, left you alone together, or even had him give you a piggyback ride was Taehyung’s way of figuring it out. But another thought alerts Jungkook.

“Shit. Do you think he knows? Or maybe Mo-eum?”

 “They haven’t said anything. But then again, you and ___ have kinda been treating each other the same way. I think I’m just noticing the subtle differences because I’ve been away for a while. And well, since I’m leaving again I'm a little bit more sentimental,” Taehyung laughs. “Why, don’t you want them to know?”

“Not yet,” Jungkook shakes his head.

“Why not?”

“Because they might tell me to keep off or run for the hills.”

“Or tell you to get your head out of your ass and do something about it,” Taehyung exclaims.

“They could, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for any of that. I.. I want her to settle into me. Naturally.”

“I get that, but this is the same girl who meets someone and then gets attracted to them right away. Just saying,” Taehyung warns. 

You’ve always said you tend to act on your intense feelings immediately. It’s true that at any point, you could serendipitously meet someone and then pursue them the next day.

“___ is used to a life where things are clear to her, including the people in them,” Taehyung continues. “She’s always been honest about her intentions with others and doesn’t compromise who she is with them, and we all like that about her. You might wanna just let things happen because you don’t wanna rush or pressure her and I get that but a little nudge won’t hurt.”

“How do I do that?”

“Be intentional, I guess. Act on what you feel but gently, gradually,” Taehyung advises. “Put feelers out and see how she thinks about friendships and relationships and whatnot.” 

“I guess I kinda have been… unknowingly,” Jungkook shakes his head. “We’ve been having tons of conversations about how we dealt with our relationships and how we go about them.”

“And?”

“You know how we used to tease her with Namjoon?”

“Yeah, and she said that helpless clumsy people will burn the house down and so it was never gonna happen,” Taehyung laughs.

“There’s that. But she also wonders how someone could just one day decide to like a friend they’ve known for years. It’s a normal thing like you said but I guess it’s just not how she approaches relationships,” Jungkook says. “And there’s nothing wrong about that. It’s just… how do I make her see me as something more?”

“Show her that you could be? How would she know if you’re a home she wants to cuddle and kiss and hold hands in if you don’t show that potential?” Taehyung points out. “You don’t have to impress her or treat her so differently all of a sudden. Just be natural but know that you’ll have to be assertive when the time comes.”

“That is the most confusing thing but I guess that works” Jungkook sighs. “So… should I pick her up from the airport tomorrow, then?”

Jungkook picks you up from the airport on Sunday. Your conference wrapped up in the morning but your flight was delayed and you’ve been irritable since then, given that you weren’t able to eat a decent lunch.

You were texting with him last night and he kindly offered to give you a ride, reminding you that he likes long drives so it’s not a bother. You couldn’t say no, especially since an hour-long trip is much better having him to just talk with, something you’ve been enjoying a lot recently. 

Jungkook was never really the texting type, that much you knew. He barely replies in group chats and the rare times you would message each other in the past was about random, shallow things. It wasn’t until a few months ago when you started texting more frequently, and your conversations go from mundane to deep, and you appreciate them equally.

Outside of that, you’ve been spending more time together, too, and you like that as well. He’s just a calming person to be around, very chill and laid-back, and you suppose it’s what you’ve been needing. 

You know that he’s a reserved guy, often quiet and not very expressive compared to your other friends, unless he’s teasing you. He’s the kind to not let things bother him easily but also just does whatever he likes as long as he doesn't get in anyone's way. 

You suppose that’s one reason why you were always closer to Jimin and Taehyung - they’re uninhibited and a little crazy like you, always going off about something together, narrating things animatedly, and being dramatic about everything. Jungkook, alongside Mo-eum, would just sit around and watch the three of you do all of that, and then take care of any one of you when needed.  

While you still do most of those, you suppose that over time, you’ve all mellowed down a little bit. Over time, you’ve needed something else - a presence to calm you down and to contrast your often frenzied and chaotic state, a kind of energy that balances you out and grounds you. 

Jungkook has been that for you recently. He listens to you rant about everything. He reassures you about your thoughts but also offers a different perspective. He makes you laugh and teases you comfortably. He shows up when you need him and he takes care of you like it’s second nature. 

You know that’s the kind of person he’s always been. You don’t know though if you’ve just taken it for granted all these years because of that; you don’t really remember appreciating or even depending on him this way before. Perhaps it’s just time that’s passed and you grew up. Maybe at this point in your life, that’s the kind of person you need more of. 

You smile at the thought as you watch Jungkook load your luggage in the trunk then head to the driver seat. He asks you about the delay and how the flight was. You say it was fine but that you only got to eat a sandwich at the airport and now you’re hungry, which makes it worse because you didn’t even enjoy the food at the conference.

“Was it really that bad?” He asks. 

“For some reason, everything was spicy,” you frown. “And those that weren’t were just too intense and I just wanted something familiar. And delicious. Tae was sending photos of your suyuk from last night and I got so jealous. He said it was really, really good.”

“Oh. Do you want that, then?” Jungkook asks. “It’s not hard to make.”

“Wha–? Are you serious?” You look at him with puppy eyes, although this shouldn’t really be surprising anymore. 

“Yeah. We’ll just get back to Seoul late afternoon and then pass by the supermarket for the ingredients. Can you wait until then?”

“I could. I mean, I heard it’s a life-changing dish,” you wink.

“Well, Taehyung’s an easily satisfied guy but I think it’s one of the best things I’ve made, too,” he chuckles. “Not sure about it being life-changing but you can maybe tell me later.”

“I’m sure it’ll be, since I’ll be very hungry by then,” you laugh. “But we could also just eat at a restaurant or something.”

He cocks an eyebrow, knowing that when you set your mind on a certain dish, you need to have it. The fact that you brought it up is a hint that it’s what you really want and Jungkook won’t say no. 

He’s unsure if this counts as making a move on you but at this point, he’ll take whatever chance he can get to show you he cares and wants to make you happy. And that maybe, let you know in the most subtle way that something’s changed on his end without freaking you out. 

“Fine, I know you know I really want to try it,” you giggle at having been caught. 

You suppose he’s familiar with your antics at this point. 

“I do,” he playfully shakes his head. “And it’s fine, really. I don’t mind doing things for you.”

“Hmm. That means you aren’t sick of me yet!”

“Don’t think I will anytime soon.”

Jungkook says it with certainty, and not in a teasing or even shy manner the way you’d expect. But you don’t think about it much. You’re just glad your constant presence hasn’t been a bother to him.

You spend the ride talking about how your respective weeks have been. You’re in your neighborhood before you know it, and he’s stopping by a supermarket and getting the ingredients while you message your friends about having dinner at Jungkook’s place. The three of them quickly reply they’ll be on their way, with Taehyung offering to pick them up.

You watch Jungkook do his magic while you wait for them to arrive, and you’re amazed when he says that he just watched a video on it online then went by feeling when he made it himself. You’re left in awe; you know your clueless ass could never. 

Your friends arrive not long after, all of whom are just as excited to eat Jungkook’s dish, even if Taehyung just had it last night. He hypes it up and Jungkook calls him out for setting the expectations too high. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, he says.

Sitting next to him, you take your first bite. And your friend is right. This is incredibly delicious; you seriously don’t think any other version could top this.

You pinch the corners of your eyes in response, expressing dramatically - as you always do - how good it is. You take another bite with the kimchi, and given the unsatisfying dishes you’ve had the past three days, this quite literally tastes like heaven.

You reflexively lean on Jungkook’s shoulder as you close your eyes and savor it.

“Fuck, Kook. This is insane,” you moan.

“Yeah, well you haven’t even eaten it properly yet,” he hums. “Here.”

You turn to him and find him trying to feed you the pork wrapped in lettuce with rice and kimchi. You open your mouth and it’s even more delicious. This tastes like home, and in a way you didn’t expect. 

You curse under your breath again, like Jimin is, while Taehyung and Mo-eum quietly enjoy it. 

“It always amused me how Kook is the baby of the group but he never acted like it,” Mo-eum points out. 

“Yeah, it was always me,” you chuckle.

“Debatable. Tae’s the baby. You’re the princess,” Jimin corrects. 

“I agree,” Jungkook hums. “But we never minded, just so you know. At least, I never did.”

He says the last part softly, you’re probably the only one who hears it. Between his assuring words and this dinner he made, there’s not much you can do, so you prepare a portion of the meat with rice and side dishes, too, and offer to feed him.

He hesitates only briefly but lets you do as you wish. Your fingers graze his face and he feels the shiver on his skin.

“My thank you ssam,” you smile, and Jungkook praises you for making it well-balanced because that’s the only harmless thing he can really say. 

You spend the next two hours the way you usually do when you’re together, until Mo-eum yawns and says she’ll go ahead because her three straight 12-hour night shifts are getting to her. She just wanted to see you so she came, even if you have your usual post-work dinners on Wednesdays. Tuesdays are reserved for Jimin while Taehyung usually just messages you whenever. Jungkook, you realize, has become a staple of your weekends.

Taehyung then offers to take Mo-eum home, then drags Jimin along because they need to buy something.

“What about ___?” Mo-eum asks.

“She’s out of the way,” Taehyung answers. “Plus, she craved this so she’ll help Jungkook clean up, right?” He continues, smiling sweetly at you.

“Of course I will,” you answer. 

You bid them goodbye then start clearing the table of the dirty dishes.

“___, you don’t have to,” Jungkook says, taking them from you.

“This has always been my task,” you pout. “Plus, this is all I can do. You always do so much for me.”

You don’t wait for him to respond and proceed to washing the dishes. He stands next to you though and you continue talking, up until he drives you home then messages you good night. 

You end up seeing Jungkook pretty much every week after that, whether it’s because of a get-together - like karaoke night on Friday after work, or a special event - such as the screening of the movie that Yoongi composed the music for.

You see him on your own, too, like on nights when you crave something after work, when there’s a movie you ask him to download that he watches with you, when you have an errand to do that you don’t feel like doing alone, or to cheer for his high school taekwondo team, just like you promised. 

He’s always willing to join you even if he’s got things going on himself. He just says he doesn’t mind and deep down, you’re glad that he truly hasn’t gotten sick of you yet, given your tendencies to whine about things and complain about your work despite how much you love it. 

Jungkook shares a lot more about himself, too. Not that he never did but you notice him being more open and comfortable about things he worries about - like how his students will grow up to be and if he’s being a good role model to them. There’s the occasional mention of wondering if he’ll be a good enough partner to whoever he’ll end up with after you open up a bit more about your past relationships.

It’s always stuck with you how he says that being with someone means that you witness the birth of a different person every time and then celebrating that. It strikes you because you feel like somewhere along the way, even you failed to do that yourself - accept how you’ve changed then embracing it. But he says he’s also learning, and that being with someone means you learn together. 

It’s those conversations that have you appreciating your time with him even more. He’s there when there’s chaos in your mind, and even more so when it’s around you.

It’s near the end of April when you find yourself in Mo-eum’s apartment with Jimin, getting ready for your college reunion party. It feels like it’s been a while since you dolled up for something like this. Mo-eum, like you, only does it when there’s a special event. For Jimin, this is a norm in his line of work. 

Your best friend eyes your outfit, fixes your dress, then suggests a bolder lipstick color. 

“It’ll work with the guys,” he smirks.

“I’m not trying to get anyone’s attention, just to remind you,” you say, even if you go with the red that he hands you. “It’s a party and I’ll drink, watch people get shit faced, and then bury myself in the covers at night then lay in bed all day tomorrow.”

“You’re getting old,” he teases. 

“You’re gonna feel the effects of all this partying at one point,” you reply.

“Nah, I’ve got energy. I keep myself in shape, you know?”

You throw your pillow at him at the dig, but you do point out that you still do your Pilates session every week and that’s helped with your energy, amongst other things. 

“Plus, who’ll it work on? The guests are literally the same people from college. No one’s gonna go for me after all these years and vice versa,” you add. 

“You have such a narrow and simplistic way of looking at things sometimes, you know that?” Jimin shakes his head at you. “You think that attraction is only immediate and a one-time thing, as if it doesn’t develop overtime or something.”

“Well, if it wasn’t there at the start, then it won’t be there later on,” you shrug. 

“You only think that way because all your relationships have been that way,” Mo-eum says.

“Yeah, and they all ended right away,” Jimin points out.

“Ouch,” you say with no real bite, not like it’s something you haven’t thought about anyway.

“You want the feeling to smack you in the face at first glance,” Mo-eum adds, earning a nod from you because that’s true. “But it could also smack you years later, when you least expect it. Isn’t that intense and genuine, too?”

“Yeah, imagine one day realizing you like that cute ops guy at work that you have lunch with who’s so chill and unproblematic,” Jimin says. “Or your neighbor from childhood that you still talk with sometimes. Maybe Namjoon? He can already make ramen and you know how to slice fruits now. Who knows, it could be Tae. Or even Kook!”

“Jimin, I’m gonna hold your hand when I say this,” you sigh. “I don’t really see myself liking my friends in that way. Things that are good and comfortable don’t need to be disrupted.”

“___, I’m gonna hold your hand when I say this, too,” he counters. “You can. You only think otherwise because as much as you feel things, you don’t really pay attention to them. For you, things and people that are new are the only ones worth giving a shot because that’s what you’re used to. And I say this in the most loving way - I really think that the one who can truly handle all of you is someone who’s known you for years.”

You’re not offended, but it does intrigue you. So you ask what he means.

“You’re a lot of amazing things but that doesn’t mean every new guy you date sees that,” Jimin explains. “And I know you never said it directly but you always worried that your exes wouldn’t understand you, and so there were parts of you that you didn’t really wanna show them.”

You think about your best friend’s words and you agree. You weren’t the type who spent less time with your friends when you were in a relationship, and you always thought that meant you maintained your independence and social circles outside of your partner. Deep down, a part of you felt that there were aspects of your life you wanted to keep separate from the men you dated - your friends, your dreams, your bare and unfiltered self. 

With Jeong-su, you were the passionate student leader who was so sure of herself. So on the days when you were stressing about school or life in general, you ran to your friends and not him. You suppose that’s where all the fights about not making time for him stemmed from. 

It was similar with Seungho, as you were the independent and confident woman who worked hard for what she wanted in his eyes, and you felt like you had to keep that image up even if you had bouts of doubt or insecurity. He was aloof and wasn’t the type to spoil you. It was his lack of compassion that really bothered you, and you never really sought him for comfort.

There were many things that attracted you to them, but ultimately they faded away. During those years, you were focused on building yourself and your career, and they helped you in a way, because they were also attracted to that side of you - ambitious, polished, uncompromising. 

But once you became in tune with the more human and flawed, unfiltered parts of yourself, you pushed them away, perhaps fearing they wouldn’t understand. Or that they wouldn’t want to deal with that side of you at all. 

Maybe that’s what Jimin meant about you not paying attention to your feelings. You focused on how they made you feel, and not on what you felt about them, nor about how you felt about yourself because of them. As you grow up, you realize they’re not the same. 

“What does knowing someone for a long time have anything to do with this?” You try to deflect. “You can know someone for years and still be surprised by who they are once you learn more.”

“They’re not afraid of you,” Jimin responds. “They don’t want to tame nor fit you into an idea they have of you because they already know the many versions of who you are. They’ve… they’ve learned how to exist alongside you and have fun along the way. I think that makes the difference.”

“And what does paying attention to how I feel even really mean?” You wonder out loud, as you process more of what he says. 

“It means actually thinking about them, you know?” Jimin hums. “Like, giving yourself time to understand what you’re feeling, independently of what they do or say to you. You’ve always gone with your heart and we love that about you but the intense, genuine emotions that you want actually take time. I think it’s something you’ll figure out right away. It’ll be different from how it used to feel.”

“Okay, love guru,” Mo-eum chuckles. “Where’s all this coming from?”

“I listen to this podcast that talks about grown up stuff like relationships and I’ve picked things up,” Jimin shrugs. “But also I think I have a good read of people. I had a vibe with Seokjin and Hayoung long before they got together.”

“Is that why you keep pushing for Yoongi and Gyu-rim? Because you have a vibe about them?” You ask. 

“Yes. And I just really think they like each other but they don’t know it yet.”

“Hmm. Interesting. And what about Mo-eum and Tae?” 

“I asked her about it before but she didn’t answer me,” Jimin responds, triggering your other friend’s memory about that time. 

It turns out he was right about that, too.

“And now I’ll ask you,” Jimin turns to you. 

“Look, the Namjoon ship sailed a long time ago. You know how I feel about that,” you explain. 

“I wasn’t referring to him,” Jimin shakes his head. “I was gonna ask about Kook.”

“Oh,” you and Mo-eum say at the same time. 

Jimin watches your face distort, going from processing to wondering to somehow lost, and he chuckles in response.

“You know what, never mind. I’ll leave that for you to think about,” he smiles instead. “Anyway, come on. We have a party to go to.”

You get inside your booked car and decide to not think too much about what Jimin had asked you right before you left. Not that his question was completely out of left field because even you would say that you’ve been spending more time with Jungkook lately, but you suppose you hadn’t really thought much about what it could mean. 

You can chalk it up to that unspoken promise from months ago about being better friends to each other, but maybe that’s a big part of it, too. Was it really just about that? Or have your efforts naturally progressed to mean something more? 

You internally sigh at all these thoughts that your best friend unfortunately put in your head. Tonight’s not the time to be contemplating about this, not when you’ll be around people and around him. 

And just as the reminder that Jungkook will be here crosses your mind, he just happens to be the first person you see right when you exit the car.

He greets familiar faces as you and your friends meet him and Taehyung in line to the Club before he turns to you with a smile.

“Hey!” Jungkook greets, going in for a hug like what you do every time you see each other.

He smells like cotton. It’s so fresh yet so manly.

“Hey,” you return, taking in how he looks. “So, uh, what happened to the white shirt?”

“Tae told me to ditch it. He said this was better,” Jungkook shrugs, eyeing his outfit of white tank top under a simple white jacket. He gestures towards your dress. “So, this was the nicer option,” he hums.

“Yeah,” you nod, remembering that unplanned afternoon of shopping when he let you drag him around the mall. “Is it alright?”

His lips turn up and he leans closer, as you near the entrance and the music gets louder.

“Yeah, you look pretty.”

Your smile is immediate and you’re surprised at how much that affects you. You’re pretty sure he’s called you pretty before, but maybe it has a lot to do with how he looks right now because if you’re being honest to yourself, he looks really good.

You finally enter the Club and get properly greeted by Taehyung, who gives you a tight hug the way he always does. You end up talking about his cameo in this one show and his guest appearance in Running Man, which you and Jungkook watched together the other day.

Once you make it to one of the cocktail tables, you greet your other friends from university and take shots with them to jumpstart the evening. You don’t really intend on drinking a lot tonight so you pace yourself and catch up with those you haven’t seen for years, including Jihyo, who introduces you to the co-owners of the Club. 

It’s not really your favorite thing to do, as meeting people overwhelms you sometimes, but you go along with it. It’s still a night to dress up and kind of let loose, so that’s what you do, as you dance around with the ones you used to party a lot with once upon a time. 

Taehyung is jumping from one group to another, and you never really knew how the theater kid ended up knowing a bunch of people from every faculty and department in your university. Jimin is with his course buddies whom he hangs out with frequently, and you spot Jungkook and Mo-eum in the same area they’ve been since you arrived, chatting and taking shots with people you recognize from their pre-med classes. 

You finished university about six years ago and though it’s not too long ago, somehow seeing all these people you used to walk by in the halls, the library, or the clubs makes you feel like it is. There’s something about them that’s different than you remember, and it hits you just how much time can change many things - people, places… feelings, beliefs.

The initial exhilaration from seeing old friends again and letting loose quickly dies down as your energy starts getting drained and your legs begin to cramp up. 

Despite your low block heels and not-too-tight dress, you still feel a little bit uncomfortable. It’s a much different experience than the last time, which you suddenly remember was months ago when Taehyung invited you all to a night out. That was when Jungkook’s ex showed up, and the memory prompts you to quickly search for him, irrationally thinking she might be here even if she doesn’t have a reason to be.

You spot him at the same cocktail table, chatting with some girls. You look around to look for either Jimin or Taehyung but a bunch of rowdy guys dance past you and bump you as you make your way towards one of the couches. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

You turn around and find Jungkook’s worried eyes looking at you.

“Yeah, I was just… trying to find a place to chill at,” you respond. “I’m a little tired.”

He gestures towards his earlier spot. “I’ve been saving that table all night.”

You follow his lead and get introduced to the girls he was speaking with earlier. They were members of the women’s swim team that he used to train with. They leave not long after you greet them, then you sit on the stool that Jungkook offers.

“Did you see Mo-eum on her way out?” He asks, leaning closer so you could hear him over the loud music.

“Yeah, Jimin and I walked her to Taehyung’s car. She has a shift tomorrow afternoon and she wanted to get some rest tonight,” you explain. 

“Right, she did mention that,” he nods.

Jungkook offers you water as you talk about who you’ve been catching up with all night. You haven’t hung out with him much and you quickly feel at ease, reminiscing and giving updates on the other friends you’ve both been talking with.

It’s clear that at this point, people have had more to drink. There’s more screaming of the song lyrics, more cheering at the dance floor, and definitely more bumping from those drunkenly walking around. 

Including this woman who gets bumped and falls to the ground, right next to Jungkook. She’s unfamiliar so she’s probably from another course you didn’t really interact with.

He gets over his surprise and quickly crouches down to help her up. She eventually does but instead of just saying her thanks and walking away, she lays her hands on his chest and dazedly smiles. The music is still loud but you hear what she says.

“Oh my god, you’re so hot,” she mumbles. “Can I dance with you? Just don’t tell my boyfriend. He’s right over there.”

She giggles and it’s clear she’s had a lot to drink. But Jungkook’s not the least bit interested, especially given that she’s not single. It’s obvious why that puts him in a sour mood. 

Just as he’s letting her go and moving back, the said boyfriend makes his way towards where you’re sitting, and you get the feeling that things aren’t going to end well. 

He calls out for the girl, saying he’s been looking for her, and she just had to make up a story that she’s been dancing with Jungkook, which clearly didn’t happen. This enrages the man who turns to Jungkook, yelling at him to keep off his girl. 

Jungkook raises his arms, explaining that all he did was help her up after she fell but the man doesn’t listen. Surely by this time, he should be focused on ensuring his girlfriend is fine, but he seems quite drunk, too, so he probably isn’t thinking straight.

There’s a bit of commotion, as the girl starts whining. Taehyung, unknowing of what’s happening, sees the man walking closer to where you and Jungkook are, so he attempts to pull the man’s arm to get him away. That enrages him, too, so now he’s turning around and pulling on Taehyung’s shirt, which prompts Jungkook to now pull the man away from your friend.

Which ends badly, as the man tries to shove Jungkook away and ends up elbowing him in the face before he finally leaves you alone.

You shriek in response, shocked at the aggression and how fast everything happened. 

You’re just behind Jungkook so you walk to face him and see that he’s busted his lip. He tries to use his white jacket to stop the bleeding, but you gently pull his hand away and place a napkin over it.

“How bad does it hurt?” You ask, trying to sound calm even if you’re boiling in anger. 

All Jungkook did was try to help the girl, and though you’re unsure if she intended to deflect and place the blame on him instead, she still shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation like that. And the man definitely didn’t need to be that aggressive and unwilling to listen. 

“It stings pretty bad,” Jungkook responds, wincing in pain as he puts pressure on the cut.

This angers you even more, and you try to storm off with your clenched fist, pumped up with adrenaline that you think you could even do anything. 

But Jungkook pulls you back before you could make another step.

“Hey, hey. Where are you going?”

By this time, people around you have dispersed. Taehyung followed the guy, perhaps to make sure he gets escorted out of the Club. It’s just you and Jungkook at the table now, and somehow he looks calmer than you do.

“Give that man a piece of my mind,” you grumble.

“With your fist?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“With my words first. And then my fist,” you answer.

He smiles at you, softly, perhaps knowing the way you do that that’s a stupid idea but that he appreciates the thought regardless.

“You know you don’t have to,” he says. “I’m okay. It’s just a busted lip.”

“I can’t believe he elbowed your face. You were just trying to help,” you scowl.

“I can’t believe some stranger elbowed my face before you ever did,” he chuckles, earning you an apology after you reprimand him for joking about something like this. 

“Really, ___. I’m fine. The pain will go away soon,” he tries to assure you. 

You take his word for it and are willing to let it go. It’s that same time that Taehyung and Jimin get to your table, asking Jungkook how he is. They say that the man has been brought out and they found the girl’s friends for her to go home with. They wanted to make sure she was safe and being taken care of.

“I’m okay,” Jungkook assures them, too. “I just need to ice it and find a pretty good pain reliever for this one.”

“I have some at home that Mo-eum gave me,” you say. “They’re really effective but they make you sleepy.”

“That should be good, yeah?” Jimin asks. “___, can you clean his wound and give him the meds? Jihyo asked us to help with managing the rowdy guests so we’ll stay a bit longer.”

“Yeah, of course,” you answer, turning to Jungkook who looks a bit apologetic.

“Take my car,” Taehyung offers. “I’ll get Mr. Yang to pick you up.”

“Thanks, Tae,” you tiredly smile, the adrenaline from earlier now gone and you’re just exhausted and upset.

“Alright. Take care of him, okay?” He gestures towards Jungkook.

“Yeah, it’s my turn to,” you say. “Take care of yourselves. Let us know when you’re home.”

Jimin and Taehyung nod in response so you and Jungkook start making your way out of the Club. You come across Jihyo, who apologizes for not managing the crowd better, but Jungkook waves her off, saying it could’ve been worse.

You both wait by the street for Taehyung’s chauffeur, who’s just coming back from dropping Mo-eum off at her apartment. You move closer to Jungkook to assess the cut, frowning at the memory from earlier. The scene plays in your head and you’re hit with that feeling of anger all over again.

Jungkook sees your face contort and he can tell you’re being worked up thinking about what happened.

“I never asked you if you got hit or something,” he disrupts your thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I… you, you were blocking him,” you say, recalling how Jungkook immediately stood in front of you, his hands signaling you to move so you’re not close to the man. 

“He had a lot to drink and I was scared he’d do something to us.”

“Yeah well he did, to you,” you grumble. 

“Like I said, it’s fine, ___,” he smiles now to try to convince you. “My lip could've split even more with how built he was but it’s not. I’ll survive.”

“Why are you so calm?” You question him, wondering if it’s always been in his nature to be like this.

And you remember that it is. 

“If I’m not then who would be between us?” He chuckles.

You frown and bow your head because it’s true. He’s the one who’s hurt but you’re the one who seems to be so affected by it. 

But it’s in your nature, too. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve ever been angry at someone mistreating him. 

“Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make light of you being upset,” he mumbles, as he gently tilts your chin up to face him again.

“It’s just… I get his anger, okay?” He explains. “I’m not justifying his actions or anything. I mean, I wouldn’t react that way. And I… didn’t. I’m just saying that yes, he shouldn’t have been aggressive but seeing your partner do something like that gets to you and you end up… doing unpleasant things. Plus, he had been drinking so that made things worse but I’m not mad at him. I’m not mad at anyone.”

His words hit you, as you can imagine that the moment the woman mentioned she had a boyfriend after trying to flirt with him, thoughts swirled in Jungkook’s mind at what probably happened that night when his ex cheated on him. You saw his face fall then, and it angers you all over again at the thought that he experienced all that before and now some stranger tried to make him the other guy because his woman got caught.

Jungkook sees you clench your jaw, seemingly controlling your emotions. It’s not just anger this time. It seems like there’s something more. 

“Hey, hey,” he says softly. “What else is bothering you?”

“People are just so mean,” you huff, close to tears at the overwhelming emotions. “And they’re mean to you. You don’t deserve any of that.”

And with your words, Jungkook knows - you’re not just talking about tonight.

He pulls you close to hug you, knowing that this is who you are. You feel things intensely, and while he’s not the type to do that, you’re doing it for him, and that comforts him somehow. 

He feels you slowly wrap your arms around him and sigh into his chest, as if this is helping you calm down. He also knows that letting you take care of him is one other way to do that.

He pulls away and tilts your chin to face him again.

“I know I don’t, so thanks for reminding me,” he says. “I guess I just easily accept bad things that happen to me because there's not much I can do about other people’s actions but that doesn’t mean I don’t get to feel upset. I don’t want them to win and they will if I put myself down because of it.”

You nod, understanding what he means. 

And he’s right. At least you get to be the one who’s mad about it. You get to expend that negative energy towards those mean people and let them feel even a tiny bit of it in one way or another. 

“I’ll let you treat my cut and I’ll take the meds, yeah?” 

“Sounds good,” you say, amazed at how he’s the one who’s still able to pacify you when he’s the one who’s hurt.

You wait a few minutes more with him until the car arrives. 

The ride to your apartment is quiet. You spend most of it looking out the window, occasionally turning towards him where he meets your gaze once he senses you’re looking at him. He gives you an assuring smile and you return it, as if to say that you just want to make sure he’s okay. 

You instruct him to take a seat once he enters your place and you immediately give him the pain reliever. You hand him a cloth-wrapped cube of ice to soothe the cut, which has thankfully stopped bleeding. But you see the blood stains on his jacket sleeves and offer to soak it so they don’t stick.

You leave him to prepare a vinegar solution that you search online then return to your dining room. He’s already rid himself of his jacket, and he sits there with his tattooed arm holding up the ice to his wound, wincing at the sting. That man was big, and you’re thankful that his elbow didn’t slice Jungkook’s lip completely open because that definitely could’ve happened.

“How’s it looking?” He asks, as he shows it to you.

“Still a bit swollen,” you sigh. “How do you feel?”

“Meds are starting to work,” he yawns. 

“And what do you have to do next?” You ask, remembering that he’s a PE teacher and he definitely knows about cut treatment more than you do.

“Just rinse and make sure I don’t irritate it.”

“Sounds pretty simple,” you nod. “It really could’ve been worse,” you shake your head.

“Yeah, he could’ve elbowed my nose instead. Imagine that,” he chuckles, knowing how protective you are of it, even if he really doesn’t know if you mean it or just say it to tease him.

“If he did, I really would’ve gone to him and smacked him or something,” you frown. “Nobody messes with that cute nose, I swear.” 

“I appreciate how it’s worthy of your protection,” he smiles, yawning again.

You note his glazed eyes and think of how tired he must be right now. It’s been a long night and you want him to just rest and feel better in the morning.

“Just stay the night, Kook,” you offer. “You can wash up and go straight to sleep. I’ll set up the sofa bed.”

Jungkook looks softly at you. You’ve been everything he’s needed all night. Even if he was barely with you, he kept glancing to where you were to see if you were enjoying yourself. And of course because you looked really pretty in the white halter dress that he just wanted to see more, and he’s glad he got to tell you that early on. 

But once he started to get tired from all the socializing, there you were. Both of you got to talking and he immediately felt at ease. And while that woman and her boyfriend disrupted his night, they didn’t completely ruin it, not when he gets to be with you at the end of it. 

Sure, he hopes he didn’t have a busted lip but him getting hurt is much better than you experiencing even a fraction of what he did.

So yeah, it’s not all bad. He gets to sleep knowing you’re around him again and that you’ll be there in the morning.

“Alright,” he smiles. “I’ll get myself cleaned, then.”

Just like before, you give him a towel and clothes to use. The spare toothbrush from last time is still there, you say, and he feels giddy knowing you hadn’t thrown it away.

You set up the sofa bed in time and give him something to further soothe his lip. You leave a glass of water on the coffee table, too.

He’s asleep by the time you finish taking your shower. The cold compress lays loosely on his hand so you kneel next to him and take that away. 

He looks tired as his mouth is slightly opened and he breathes heavily. But still, he looks peaceful and that assures you. 

He was never the type to be doted on, especially since he’s always managed to get things done on his own. Most times he doesn’t even ask for help, instead looking out for others who need him. You know this, but he also knows of your tendencies to panic and your need to know for certain that he’s okay. Perhaps that’s why he agreed to stay. 

You walk towards your bed but decide to look back, as Jimin’s words from earlier ring in your head. Leaning on your wall, you gaze at Jungkook and try to understand what you’ve felt this whole evening.

There was that sense of protectiveness earlier. He’s a good person who deserves good things, and whether it’s because of someone he cared about or a complete stranger, he gets hurt in the end, even if he was just trying to love and trying to help. 

You’ve always been protective of your friends but there was a different type of intensity when it came to Jungkook. You felt helpless but you also desperately wanted him to know that you were gonna stand up for him regardless of what it meant for you.

As you look at him tonight, it’s a similar feeling, just a bit more mellow. You want to protect him in whatever way you can. You want to see him enjoying life. You want him to know he’s cared for, that someone looks forward to his laughter and his presence, that he makes someone’s day bearable and fun. 

And as you lay in bed, you think about what else you’re feeling and it hits you. You want to wrap your arms around him and make him feel comfortable, like there’s a place for him to breathe and be himself. Because that’s how he’s been making you feel recently, and there’s no denying that anymore.

Jungkook is still asleep when you wake up the next day. You both slept through the morning and you’ve gotten hungry, so you search for the things he’s allowed to eat and decide on getting some cold noodles and milkshakes delivered. 

You reply to your friends’ messages about how he’s doing, and Mo-eum recommends that he just rest since based on your account, he got knocked pretty hard so that might still have an effect on him. 

You’re putting his soaked jacket inside your laundry machine when you hear Jungkook grunting awake from his sleep. You head to him immediately and ask him how he’s feeling.

“I feel fine,” he hums, rubbing his eyes as he gets used to the early afternoon  light. “That pain reliever knocked me out good. I needed that sleep.”

“That’s good to hear,” you nod. “I got us food delivered so just wait a while. I’m getting your jacket washed, too, if that’s fine.”

“Sure. I can also just come back for it so you don’t feel rushed.”

“Okay,” you answer. “I was worried about you last night. I know you know how I get so if you stayed to appease me, I appreciate it, Kook.”

“What if I also just wanted to spend more time with you, would that have been okay?” He asks, catching you off guard. 

He’s cheeky sometimes, but you don’t recall him being this bold. Your heart does a weird thing. You’re not actually sure if it’s stopped or if it’s just fluttering too hard that you don’t feel it.

Maybe it’s the way he said it with his low, gravelly voice. Maybe you're just overthinking what Jimin had said and now you’re putting meaning into everything. The last thing you want is to convince yourself that something’s there when there isn’t, just because your best friend assumed that there was. 

Your face might have made a dozen different expressions again because before you can answer, he’s already chuckling at you and standing up, seemingly not interested - or perhaps just impatient - in what you have to say.

“I’ll just wash my face,” he says.

Jungkook faces the mirror and scolds himself. What he said was way too bold than what you’re used to, even if it’s the truth. He truly could’ve managed on his own, even if he probably would’ve sleepily dragged himself up to his apartment last night.

But he stayed because he knew you’d be worrying. And he wanted to bask in that feeling, even if he fell asleep right away. But being here, seeing you first thing in the morning, and spending a few more hours with you - those are things he wants to do, too.

He recalls what he told Taehyung he’d do about his feelings for you. He’ll probably drop hints or be a little more forward, but he doesn’t want to overdo it nor be too different for fear of scaring you. Or worse, pressuring you. You’ll most likely tell him off.

He wants you to settle into him, like he’d said. He wants you to just feel your way around him until you’re comfortable - until you want to hold hands and kiss and cuddle. If that’s what you want.

You’re preparing the delivered food by the time he’s finished in the bathroom and he sits in front of you, acting like there aren’t a hundred things running through his mind. This domesticity is one of them; liking and wanting more of it is another.

You no longer seemed too bothered about what he said earlier and you both get into your usual banter while eating. 

Your phone beeps, so does Jungkook’s, and it seems that your friends have resumed asking how he is, now that you’ve informed them that he’s awake.

“Reply, please. They’ll wanna hear it from you,” you tell him. 

They eventually call. Jimin’s driving, Taehyung is working out, and Mo-eum is on her way to her shift. You let Jungkook share his account this time and you watch him from your seat, happy that he’s regained his energy. There’s that smile again. And your heart has seriously been so weird since last night.

You wonder if it’s always done that. Or perhaps this is an entirely new feeling that you’re slowly discovering. 

Jungkook scrunches his nose. He’s laughing and then asking if you’re full and then filling your glass with water. You’re reminded that yes, he’s always been like this.

It’s you that’s probably changed. And you’re not quite sure what to do. Keep your distance to sort your feelings out and see if you’ll miss him? Keep spending time with him and see if the sensation and giddiness continue? 

Just then, you get a notification from your other group chat, and it’s Hayoung who’s messaging.

[hayoung 💛] Hello friends! Less than 2 weeks until our pre-wedding party / send off trip for Tae in Jeju! I’ve got everything booked. Meet up at 11 in the airport!

[hayoung 💛] To Kook and ___ who can’t leave earlier because of work (boooo 😢), I’ve arranged an airport transfer to drive you to the house. I’ll send the details later. See you all! We can’t wait!

You’re reminded of the last trip before Taehyung leaves, the late afternoon flight you have with Jungkook, and the four days you’ll be spending with him.

Seems like you’ll have to go with the second option, then. 

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1:14 PM | sanzu h.

sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader

summary: post kanto manji gang vs toman, you’re staying with your boyfriend to help take care of him after he was released from the hospital.

warnings: spoilers for most recent chapters — once again, yn does not care ab anything except him, cuz i don’t :D, can be read as part two to the timestamp from yesterday but also as a stand-alone; kakucho implied to have survived

notes: 🥹 this is my coping mechanism

taglist: @kxeyas @sano-obsessed @thomaphoria @dear-xiao @kisakiapologist @manjiroscum @arozaur @scandescent @tokyometronetwork

wordcount: 1.8k

your jaw was clenched tight as you slipped into the water behind him, acutely aware of the wince on his face that he was desperately trying to hide, and acutely aware of the way his body shook in pain with every breath.

his arms were trembling and his lips were pressed tight together, and you didn’t speak as you settled in the water behind him, palm gently resting on his back.

“lay back,” you finally said quietly and sanzu inhaled sharply as he slowly leaned back, a hiss escaping his lips at the movement.

you swallowed thickly as you brushed his hair over one shoulder, letting his bruised back lay flush against your chest as the two of you soaked in the warm water. your arms circled him loosely, nails tracing feather-light patterns on his skin, careful of the deep purple and black bruises covering his entire abdomen and half of his chest, disappearing below the water where you knew they were also decorating his thighs.

his eyes slid shut as he rested the back of his head against your shoulder and you brought one hand up to cup his cheek, fingers tracing the blackened eye that slowly peeked back open at your touch.

narrowed blue eyes focused on you, “it looks worse than it really is,” he murmured for the millionth time.

and you only sighed, you knew he would say something along the lines of that—he had been saying the same thing since he got back from the hospital. sanzu hated showing weakness, especially to you. you let your eyes shut, leaning down to press your lips against his pale shoulder, resting there for a moment.

“you don’t need to put up this act with me,” you said softly, about to continue before you were interrupted.

“it’s not an act,” he said instantly, but his words were counteracted by the grimace that crossed his face as another wave of pain swept over him.

“baby, you can barely move,” you said gently, swallowing thickly, “you almost died, it’s okay to-“

sanzu bristled, and you should have expected this. he never took well when people tried to call him out on his weaknesses, even if they had good intentions.

“i said i’m fine,” he snapped harshly, but his body did not react well to the sudden burst of emotion and movement as he tried to sit up. he gasped sharply, eyes shooting open, and your arms darted forward to hold his shoulders, preventing him from doubling over because you knew it would only end up hurting him more.

you pulled him back against your chest, lips pressed to the top of his head as a ragged sob escaped his lips. sanzu had never handled pain well, ever since the first day you met him when you were younger — a fight gone wrong when he challenged a group of older, bigger and stronger boys who were talking down on the tokyo manji gang, who left him bleeding and unconscious in an alley for you to find on your way home from practice.

he had been insufferable then, going on and on about how it didn’t hurt all the while his legs were giving out with every step and he wasn’t even able to walk without passing out. and he was equally insufferable now, only the damage was ten times worse.

you knew better than to scold him—you had tried to talk to him about it at the hospital but his responses were less than desired—so all you could do now was hold him and help him get through it.

you murmured soft reassurances against his skin as his body trembled violently in your arms, as he gasped for air and as his eyes watered.

“i’ve got you,” you said quietly, “always got you, haru.”

you felt sick as you watched his abdomen tense and spasm, as his hand flew to his mouth to muffle another broken sob. you wondered how long it would last—the doctors had told him not to strain himself, physically or mentally, because he would be prone to waves of severe pain until everything healed properly.

but sanzu was sanzu, and sanzu didn’t listen to anybody except himself. the last time it had happened was this morning, and he had been curled up in bed, biting down hard on a discarded shirt to muffle the cries of pain as to not disturb you while you were making him breakfast.

you had come back to find him on the verge of passing out, eyes glassy and unfocused and face contorted in a sort of pain you’d never seen on him before. and you had dropped the glass of water you had been bringing him to rush to his side, holding him gently until the wave of pain passed, just like you were now.

“shhhh,” you pressed your face to the top of his head, hiding in his soft hair, “shh, it’s okay, baby, you’ll be okay.”

“hurts,” he gasped and you shut your eyes, a helpless feeling sweeping over you when you realized you couldn’t do anything except wait for it to pass, “i cant breathe, i cant-“

you brought your hand back to his face, cupping his cheek again and wiping away the tears that were slipping from his eyes.

and he always did this—when the pain became too much and he lost control over the facade he was so insistent on putting up. he always crumbled, letting out gasps and whimpers and mindless babbles about how bad it hurt, eyes wide and wild and glassy, searching yours for help. and it had your heart clenching so tight you thought you might die because you couldn’t give him the help he needed and you couldn’t ease the pain.

all you could do was hold him, press soft kisses to his shoulders and the top of his head until it passed.

and it did, you could feel his breath slowly evening out again, his erratic heart beat calming and his eyes fluttering shut. you didn’t speak, because you knew if you said something, you’d be met with resistance so instead you rubbed your hands up and down his arms soothingly, lips pressed to his hair, letting him settle down.

your hands tightened on his arms as he shifted but all he did was look back at you, and there was an emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. sanzu had aways been difficult to read, he refused to open up at all and he kept his heart closely guarded but over time, you had learned to catch his cues and understand the words he was wanted to tell you that always went unspoken.

but this was new. a foreign expression that you couldn’t decipher. you frowned lightly, fingers dancing across his cheekbone and you let out a shaky breath when his long lashes fluttered shut as he leaned into your touch.

“haru,” you murmured, but he didn’t say anything and your heart was in your throat as he shifted his face in your hand, pressing his lips to your palm and covering the back of your hand with his, holding it in place as his eyes slid shut again, lashes brushing his cheek.

your free arm slipped back around him, careful to not aggravate the wounds, holding him as he laid between your legs, back resting on your chest, head on your shoulder. and you noticed, briefly, just how small he seemed in your arms in that moment—a subtle grimace still marring his face, body bruised and broken and still trembling from the aftershocks of the pain.

“i hate this,” his voice shook against your palm, and you wondered if he was so frustrated that he was on the verge of tears again—he had always been the type of person that bottled everything up until he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

you held his head close to you, stroking his hair, fingers scraping his scalp gently, and you ignored how he shuddered against you. and you ignored the wetness that hit the hand that he was clutching to his face. you knew very well just how much he hated reaching this point, hated himself for not being able to handle it—bringing extra attention to it would only make him feel worse.

for a second, you wondered what he would do without you. and it wasn’t a sort of conceited thought or anything along the lines of that—sanzu did not have anyone else. all of his old friends were enemies or dead, the majority of the kanto manji higher ups had turned their back on him after he nearly killed kakucho, kokonoi betrayed kanto manji for toman—the only one left was mikey and mikey was… mikey. he wasn’t in the right state to help anyone, or even to care to help anyone.

your lips trembled against his head at the thought of him having to suffer through this alone—struggling to get out of bed in the morning, struggling to eat, suffering through these brutal waves of pain alone, each second feeling like eternity as he waited for it pass.

you inhaled shakily against him. you knew he wasn’t a good person, he had done terrible things, and tried to do even worse things, without a hint of remorse and some might even say that he deserved worse than what he was dealt but…

but he was good to you. he was always so fucking good to you, always gentle, always looking out for you. and to be quite frank, you didn’t give a single shit about anybody other than him.

and you knew a part of him hated this because of the helplessness that came along with it. he knew that the rest of s62 generation would be after him because of what he had tried to do to kakucho, and he knew that if they came for him while you were around, which was more than likely considering you rarely left his side at this point, there would be nothing he could do—and s62 was not known for their kindness. he could barely walk on his alone, much less fight off madarame shion, mochizuki kanji and the haitani brothers to protect you. because he knew that when they came, you wouldn’t leave his side and they would not take kindly to that.

“you’re stuck with me, y’know?” and you hated how your voice caught and wavered.

sanzu only squeezed your hand gently. you knew you weren’t going to get a response from him while he was like this. you never did because he knew that if he opened his mouth to speak he wouldn’t be able to calm down.

but he didn’t need to say anything. sanzu had aways spoke louder through his actions than he ever did through his words, so when his grip on your hand tightened and his body relaxed back into yours again, it really was all you needed.

This is so beautiful 😔😔🫠🫶

I. In the early morning, my yearning soul laid bare

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader | Word count: 6.3k

Series masterlist -> xxx | Next chapter -> xxx

Content warnings: reader is very touch starved, katsuki is bad with feelings, eventual smut. reader is feminine, referred to as a woman. sweetheart, baby, bunny used as nicknames. smut warning !! praise, slightly possessive bkg, cunnilingus, squirting, cream pie

“Good morning, Dynamight.”

“Mornin’.”

He moves swiftly through the office, combat boots overpowering the sound of your heels clacking against the tile. You’re speed walking to keep up with him, taking three strides of your own for each of his one. “Your coffee is on your desk, not much office work for today except a meeting with Pro-Hero Hawks. Although I did get an email about a charity dinner that you should probably attend next week. So we’ll need to figure out a time to get you fitted for a suit. Oh! And I think that—

“Ln”

“Yes, Dynamight?”

“Stop talkin’.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“And how many times have I told you to drop that Dynamight shit? Just call me Bakugou,” he says, nearing the entrance of his office. “Oh, right. Sorry about that— uh, Bakugou.” He smirks down at you, crimson eyes taking in your form. “Let me know when bird brain gets here, and just call the usual tailor and have them design something for the dinner. He knows my sizes.” You nod quickly, hands fiddling with the papers in your hands, “Would you like me to email you the design once it’s finished so you can approve it?” He shakes his head, hand opening the door, “Nah, trust your judgment. Just approve it if you think it looks good,” with that he turns into his office, clicking the door shut. 

Anything would look good on you, you think, which is definitely not something you should say to your boss or think about. How annoying too, the way he could make even the scrappiest of clothes look good. Stupid Pro-Hero body and chiseled jawline and— Whatever.  You valued your job far too much to let your school girl crush on the explosive Pro-Hero ruin what you had. You’d been working at the Dynamight-Red Riot Agency for nearly two years now. So you should be immune to the number two hero by now. 

“Hi, pretty bird, somethin’ on your mind?”

Your train of thought is interrupted by the teasing drawl of the number three hero, smirk upon his face as he leans against your desk. “Hawks! No! Just thinking about everything I need to get done today,” you say, moving to set your paperwork down. Your hand reaches for the phone to alert Dynamight— Bakugou— of his presence. “You’re here early,” you say, “you’re usually at the least twenty minutes late. Are you–

You’re cut off by his hand resting atop yours, hand clenching the receiver of the phone tighter. “Wanted to see you, pretty bird. Have to say hello to my favorite assistant,” he says with a grin. You brush his hand off, opting to press the call button on the receiver instead to alert your boss. “Well, hello,” you say, shrinking in on yourself behind your desk. He skirts around the edge, bending towards you. “What’s wrong, dove? Nervous?” he asks with a smirk. Your hands wring together nervously as you stand between the wall and the taller man. “No! I’m just, erm. You’re awfully close,” you say, eyes darting about the room. 

“Oi, leave my assistant alone unless you want me to turn you into fried chicken.” Bakugou says, stepping out of his office. “Ahh, Dynamight!” Hawks says, turning to the hero, “I see you haven’t changed a bit.” Bakugou stares at him with a straight face, nodding his head towards his office. Hawks grumbles, leaving you with a wink. “You good?” Bakugou grunts, eyeing you. “Y-yeah. Yeah, yes,” you say, tension easing from you in his presence, “thank you, Bakugou.” His mouth turns up slightly at that, giving a nod of his head before turning into his office, the door closing with a click. 

—

“Good morning, Bakugou.”

“Good mornin’”

The office is quiet this morning, only the two of you along with a few unlucky interns who got roped into finishing off the overflowing paperwork. “Did you sleep well?” you ask, handing him his coffee. “Wasn’t bad till I woke up,” he grumbles, sighing as he takes the first sip of the warm drink, “You?” You’re quick to cover your surprise, he wasn’t usually one to initiate conversation besides your exchange of ‘good morning’ and the list of things he needed to do. “I slept very well, thank you for asking. Are you going out with us tonight?” 

You already knew the answer, but you also weren’t quite sure if he was ever actually invited. “Don’t mention it,” he says, leaning against your desk as you enter your office space, “goin’ out where?” Just as you suspected. He always worked so hard for his place in the charts. You wondered if he ever did anything fun. “Just some of us from the office. We’re going out for drinks,” you say, booting up your computer, “you should come.” He frowns, eyebrows drawn right, “I’ll think about it,” he says, before turning to his office and shutting the door. Well, you think, that’s a start. 

By the time your work is completed, there’s an ache in your back. Eyes strained from staring into your computer screen all day. You roll your neck, easing the tension from your shoulders. “Oi,” a voice snaps, “we goin’ or what?” You look at the man standing in front of you, now changed out of his hero uniform and into casual clothing. You smile up at him, “Going where?” you ask, saving your files before shutting the computer system down. “Thought you said you and those damn extras were goin’ out after work,”  he says, crossing his arms. You pretend not to notice the faint blush creeping upon his cheeks. His voice echoes in your mind, ‘you and those damn extras’.  You roll your eyes at yourself for looking too deep into the sentiment. “Yes! I don’t know about you but I am so ready to have a drink.” you say with a groan. 

“So,” he asks, slowing his strides to walk alongside you, “who’s all gonna be there?” You hum as you walk along, pressing the button to the elevator. “Ah, just the usual I’m sure,” you say, stepping in once the lift arrives. “The usual? You guys do this a lot?” he asks, feigning disinterest. “Yeah! Like every other week, sometimes every week depending. You didn’t know?” A part of your heart aches at this, but you’re pulled from your thoughts at the scoff he lets out. “Nah, had no idea.” You leave it at that, frown on your face. 

After Bakugou offered (read: forced) you to get a ride from him instead of using the train to get to the hole in the wall bar you and your coworkers meet, he’d been oddly quiet. His car was nice, a sleek SUV with red interior that you were sure cost more than your yearly salary– stupid rich people. “Quit that shit,” Bakugou finally says, both hands gripping the wheel as he drives down the road, “you’re thinkin’ too loud. Somethin’ wrong?” You’re quick to deny, hands flailing in front of you, “Oh no! Of course not, just thinking about everything I have to do when I get home.” He hums, hands relaxing as he turns to look at you at the next light. “Your car is nice,” you say, fingers twitching, “I like the red.” He smirks at that, proud grin on his face, “Thanks, put a lot of work into her,” he says. “And money,” you mumble to yourself. He barks out a laugh and you pray to whatever lies above to smite you now as you look at him. It’s then that you realized he’s pulled into the parking lot, hand resting on your headrest as he leans back to reverse the car into the stall. And— holy shit. Had his arms always been that big? His jawline so sharp? And when he bites his lip in concentration you can’t help but wonder if that’s the face he would make when putting his–

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

You’re snapped from your bubble of admittedly filthy thoughts, embarrassment creeping up your spine. He laughs at your obvious inner turmoil, moving to shift the car into park. “Sorry! So sorry about that. Uh– I was just. Well I was just lost in thought, erm. I guess.” Real smooth Yn, real smooth. He rolls his eyes, opening his door. “You gettin’ out? Or are you plannin’ on sittin’ in here all night?” You shake your head to dismiss the thoughts, facing him with a smile. “Ready when you are!”

Your name is called from the corner booth where your friends cooped up, hands raised in the air. Sero, Denki, and Mina, sit pressed into one side of the booth, the other occupied by a few friends from the IT department in the building. “Hey guys!” you say, leading Bakugou over. “Bakubro!” Denki cries, “What are you doing here?” Bakugou mumbles to himself sliding next to you into the booth. A glass slides your way, your usual drink of choice presented to you. You look up at Sero who gives you a wink, rolling your eyes at the man. “Thank you so much. I needed this after this week,” you say with a sigh. “Sorry Bakugou, I didn’t get you anything,” Sero says with a chuckle, “didn’t know you were coming, otherwise I would’ve ordered for you too, man!” Bakugou gives a dismissive grunt, picking at the table. “Would you like something, Bakugou. I can go with you! Does anyone else need anything?” 

“I can get it,” Bakugou replies, ignoring Mina’s calls for another drink for herself. “Uhh,” Mina starts, hands slapping the table as she turns to you, “so what the fuck was that?” You laugh, stirring your drink with your straw, “What was what?” Gasps escape the three members say across from you, mouths agape. “What was what? How did you convince Bakubro to come?” Denki says, “I thought I was dreaming when I first saw him. Did you bribe him? OH MY GOD!” He drops his voice to a whisper, leaning closer to you, “Are you fucking him?” You choke on your drink at his words, hand moving to cover your mouth as you shake your head violently. “What?! No. I just asked if he wanted to come,” you say with a shrug, “that’s all.” Bakugou returns with the drinks, sliding Mina’s drink to her. “Yes! Thank you Bakugou. Knew that black card of yours would come in handy someday.”

He snorts at this, taking a sip of his own drink, “You act like you don’t have one of your own.” Mina starts vehemently denying this, hands flailing. Amongst the chatter and raised voices you can’t help but stare at the man next to you and the wide smile spread across his face.

-

“You really didn’t have to walk me all the way to my door,” you say, hands clasped in front of you. “Had to make sure your dumbass didn’t get abducted by a villain. ‘sides, don't wanna end up having to do all that paperwork by myself.” You laugh at his words, a bright grin on your face. “Well, I appreciate the concern,” you say, unlocking your door, “have a goodnight Bakugou. Get home safe.” He grunts in acknowledgment, feet shuffling on the ground. “Y’can call me Katsuki,” he mumbles. Your smile brightens, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “Goodnight, Katsuki.”

—

“Good morning, Katsuki-kun.”

“Good morning, Yn.”

“So, what bullshit do I have to put up with today?” He asks, arms crossed over his chest. You turn to the computer, pulling up his schedule for today. “Doesn’t look like a lot of office work, although I did get a call earlier saying that Pro-Hero Deku will be making a stop by today to discuss something with you.” He groans at your words, “Fuckin’ Deku,” he mumbles. You laugh at his words, spinning your desk chair back and forth. “Just let me know when the shitty nerd gets here.” 

The morning drags after that, hands and back aching from the constant sitting and typing away at your computer. Deciding to stretch your legs and take a break, you decide to check in with Bakugou. 

A knock on his door pulls him from his thoughts, setting down the report he was reading, “Come in,” he shouts, tossing the paper to his desk. When you enter you nearly pass out at this sight in front of you. Bakugou sat behind his desk, shirt sleeves rolled up with a pair of glasses perched on his nose. “Did you need something?” he finally asks, taking the glasses off and tossing them next to the paper. “No! Sorry, I was feeling restless and needed a break.” He squints his eyes in thought, pursing his lips at you, “So you decided to come bother me about it?” 

“Well actually, I was going to ask if–

“Kacchan!” A voice calls behind you. Bakugou groans, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Kacchan?” you ask with a grin. He glares at you, finger pointed in your direction, “Don’t even start.” You laugh at this, straightening your back as Deku finally enters the room. “Dynamight, Pro-Hero Deku is here to see you,” you say with a smirk. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, brat,” he says with a scowl. “Whatever you say, Kacchan,” you say teasingly, before making your way out of the office, bowing to the two heroes before closing the door.

Your eyes snap to the door as it opens again, Deku walking out mumbling. You giggle as Bakugou makes his way out behind him, exasperated look across. “Isn’t it so cool, Kacchan? I hope we get it, I think I could keep it on my office on the self that’s—

“Deku. Stop fuckin’ talking.”

“R-right! Right, see you later, Kacchan!”

Bakugou grunts in acknowledgment, arms over his chest as the hero leaves. “Oh!” Deku says, stopping at your desk, “I’m so sorry! Where are my manners? Have a good night, Yn!” You smile wide, waving goodbye to the green haired man. 

You turn slowly in your chair to the ash blond, “Sooo,” you drag out, “how was your meeting, Kacchan?” If looks could kill, you’re sure you would be a splat on the wall right now. “Shut it,” he says with a huff. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed! I think it’s cute,” you say with a smile. “I’m not embarrassed,” he exclaims, “and it’s not fuckin’ cute.” You laugh loudly at his obvious disdain, ears turning red, arms crossed. “Y-yeah. Well what about you?” He says, nose up in the air. “What about me?” you ask. “Always so jumpy around new people. Actin’ like a frightened rabbit. Like a little bunny,” he says with a smirk. You laugh harder at this, clutching your stomach when his smile falls. “Bunny is almost cuter than Kacchan.” You nearly fall out of your chair in laughter as the man starts defending himself.

—

“Good morning, Kacchan.”

“Good morning, bunny.” 

You both stand in front of his office, arms crossed as you glare at each other. “Yn! Hey do you— am I interrupting something?” You turn your head towards the voice, “Oh! No of course not, Akio. What’s up?” Akio was one of your coworkers from IT who was a regular to your meetups for drinks, he stood before the two of you red faced, fiddling with his hands nervously. “I was wondering if you were going out with us tonight, we were talking about all riding together and going bar hopping.” You shake your head at him, “No, I can’t tonight,” you say with a frown, “I have a date tonight, I’m sorry I’ll miss it!” He gives you a thumbs up, shaking his head, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll catch you next time. Have fun tonight!” You laugh looking at him with a wide grin and offering your thanks before turning back to Bakugou. 

He stands there with a scowl on his face, “What’s wrong?” you ask, brows furrowed. “Didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” he says. You laugh, shaking your head, “I don’t! It’s actually our first date. Mina set me up with him, actually.” His frown deepens, a heat simmering in his chest at this. Jealousy? No, Bakugou Katsuki does not get jealous. A heat creeps up his stomach, heart beating furiously in his chest. “Where ya goin’?” he asks. “Some ramen place he wanted to show me, I’m excited! And I need to get rid of these feelings I have for this one guy and I’m hoping this helps,” you say sheepishly. “Why’s that? Anyone would be stupid to not want you. What’s his problem?” You fight the flurry of butterflies in your tummy at his words, “Ah, I don’t think I’m his type. Besides he’s… unattainable, you could say.” He grunts in response, entering his office. 

Weird, you think, even for Bakugou. You shrug, turning to sit at your desk to begin your work. Maybe he’s jealous, a voice taunts in your ear. You shake it away, allowing the words on the screen to suck you in and take over your running thoughts. 

-

He’s late. You frown, looking down at your phone once more. It’s only by ten minutes, maybe he got stuck in traffic, you think. But as the minutes pass your hope festers, picking idly at the word edge of the menu you’d already memorized front to back in your spare time. A thump pulls you out of your thoughts, the view of a body in your peripheral making you scowl. No way you were going to go through with the date now, looking up to tear the man in front of you apart, you pause, mouth agape. “Bakugou?” you say in shock. His eyes dart about nervously before he clears his throat, “Hey,” he murmurs. “Hey? What are you doing here? Were you following me?” He frowns at this, brows furrowed in annoyance. “Was passin’ by and saw you in here sittin’ by yourself lookin’ all sad. My dry cleaners’ down the road, passed by again on my way back and you were still here. Where’s your date?” 

Embarrassment burns through you, willing the tears down as you look at the man. “Your guess is as good as mine,” you say with a forced laugh. “Asshole,” he murmurs, smiling slightly when he gets a giggle from you, “c’mon, let’s go.” You look up at him in confusion, “Go where?” He stands, holding his hand out to you. “My place, I’m cookin’,” he says, looking at you expectantly, “Well? You comin’ or what?” Your heart leaps, placing your hand in his impressively larger one. “Okay, I’m coming.” 

The ride to his house is silent except for the music flowing quietly through the speakers. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” you finally whisper. “Shaddap, shitty woman. Let me show you how a man is supposed to treat a woman.” You bite your lip, contemplating punching yourself in the gut to get the butterflies to calm the fuck down. “Is this a date?” you ask, eyes avoiding him as you stare out the window. “Obviously,” he says, pulling into his drive. Now, you knew Bakugou was rich, but this. This was ridiculous. “You live here?!” you say in shock, “You could fit a small village into this house, Bakugou. It’s huge.” He smiles cockily at you, “Perks of being a Pro,” he says, “and call me Katsuki.” You smile wider at him, soft look upon your features, “Okay, Katsuki.” His cheeks redden at your words, scoffing at you, “And don’t you dare open that fuckin’ door yourself.” 

The inside of Bakugou– Katsuki’s home, is even more impressive than the outside. Sleek walls and abstract decor. Rich people, you think to yourself. Though you can’t help but sadden at the lack of warmth in the house. No touch of the explosive hero’s personality strewn throughout. He pulls out a pair of slippers for you, sliding the heels off your feet. “Your house is beautiful, Katsuki.” He shrugs noncommittally, “Thanks, let my old hag design it. Only really use it to eat and sleep.” You frown, follow him into his kitchen. “What are you making?” you ask, placing yourself on the island resting in the center of his kitchen. You gasp when he grabs your hips, pulling you off and depositing you into a chair at the bar standing just on the outside of the kitchen. “Scared, bunny?” he asks with a toothy grin, hands still resting on your hips. “N-no,” you clear your throat, “No, of course not.” He laughs, rolling his eyes before grabbing an apron to place onto his form. “Makin’ ramen. It’ll be better than whatever was at that shitty restaurant.”

You can’t help but be captivated by the sight in front of you, watching how effortlessly Katsuki moves around the kitchen. “I didn’t know you could cook,” you speak out. He grunts, slicing vegetables to add into the broth he’s started, “You can’t?” You laugh, “No, I can. But with a house like this, I’m just surprised you don’t have your own personal chef or something.” He rolls his eyes, smirk on his face, “Nah, no one can make it like me. I’m the best there is.” You smile at the challenge, “I’ll hold you to that, Katsuki.” 

-

“Oh my god,” you say with a groan, “Katsuki, this is amazing!” He smirks, “Told ya I was the best.” You glare at him, “Just take the compliment, Katsuki. Don’t need your head getting any bigger than it already is.” He chokes on a noodle at your words, red eyes glaring at you. You laugh loudly, head thrown back as he looks at you. It’s hard to take him seriously like this, cheeks round with noodles, a stray one resting on his chin. Conversation flows easy, easier than you could have imagined. At the end of it all, it’s hard to tell if the warmth flowing through you is from the meal or if it’s simply Katsuki. It’s strange to see him so relaxed, smile easy on his face, eyes bright with mischief. “The meal was wonderful, Katsuki. Thank you.” He lets out a tch, in response. “Would you like me to help clean? Since you cooked.” He shakes his head, gathering his and your bowl in his hands. “You’re too pretty to be doin’ all that work. Wanna go pick out a movie or somethin’?” he asks with flushed cheeks. Your smile brightens, happy to continue the night with him. “I would love to,” you say.

“Stop squirmin’,” he whispers to you. There’s about a two foot distance between the two of you on his large couch, movie playing in the background causing shadows to spread across his face. “Sorry,” you whisper back, “this dress isn’t the most comfortable to lounge in.” He looks at you with a frown, vermillion eyes taking in your form. “Why didn’t you just say so, dumbass.” He stands up, offering you his hand, “C’mon, I’ll give ya somethin’ to wear.” You follow him to his room, hand squeezing his own absentmindedly as you stroll through his house. The smell of burnt caramel and a scent that’s all man, enters you as you follow him into his room.  He guides you to the bed, moving to his closet to grab clothes for you.

You take in your surroundings and can’t help yourself from wandering about the room. This, you think, this is Katsuki. All Might memorabilia strewn throughout the room, snippets from newspapers of his achievements. You pick up a picture frame, smiling softly down at it. High school aged Katsuki stares back at you, usual scowl, but with his undeniable warmth resting in his eyes. Also in the picture is his group of friends. Kirishima stood beside him with an arm thrown over his shoulder with Sero next to him, signature wide grin on his face. Beside Sero is Kaminari, obviously in a bout of laughter. It’s clear that Mina is the one taking the photo, arm stretched out with the other offers a simple peace sign.

“You tell them I have that in here, and I’ll kill you,” Katsuki mumbles behind you. You nearly drop the picture in fright, scrambling to catch it before the frame shatters. “Katsuki!” you cry, “Give a girl a warning next time, nearly gave me a heart attack.” He laughs at this, offering you a set of clothes. “It’s your fault for snoopin’, bunny.” You roll your eyes, “Where’s the bathroom?” you ask. He points to the door opposite you, taking the frame gently from your hands. You’re nearly chest to chest, heart beating erratically at how close he is. Don’t look up, Don’t look up, you chant to yourself. You look up. He’s even closer like this, soft eyes peering down at you. His eyes flicker to your lips, mouth opening to speak. “Bathroom!” you shout suddenly, “Uhh, bathroom. Change. I’m going to the bathroom to change.” 

Wow, Yn, subtle. His brow quirks up in amusement, stepping away from you to allow you to step past. You change quickly, splashing water from your face to soothe your panic. You look at yourself in the mirror rolling your eyes at your awkwardness. The clothes are ridiculously large on you, shirt ending near your knees. You had to roll the sweats up several times to even attempt to walk. His room is empty when you exit the bathroom, so with your hands clasped tightly around your clothes, you leave the room to find him. He’s sitting on the couch, phone in hand as he waits. His eyes widen when you enter the room, darting over your form. “Pretty,” he mumbles to himself. “What?” you ask tilting your head to the side. “Said you’re pretty,” he says, a soft grin on his face. 

Your stomach flutters, placing yourself next to him on the couch once you’ve set your clothes to the side. “Thank you, Katsuki. You’re pretty as well.” The tension is palpable, heat rising to your body as he leans closer. A frown falls upon your face when he turns from you, wringing his hands together as his eyes dart about the room. “Katsuki?” you query, hand resting on his shoulder. “Sorry,” he murmurs, leg bouncing nervously. You brush your hand over his leg, pushing lightly to ease the movements. “Katsuki,” you whisper, free hand moving to gently grasp his face. His lip trembles when your thumb brushes over it, tongue darting out to chase your intoxicating taste. He nudges his face deeper into your hand, lips ghosting over your pulse point, vermillion eyes boring into you. “You scare me,” you whisper to him, grasping his face when he goes to pull away. “Not like that! It’s just— You’re just, so—

“Aggressive?” he offers, eyes refusing to meet your own. You shake your head, thumbs running soothing circles over his cheeks. “No,” you whisper to him, “you’re so kind. I think I might— no. I know I do. I love you, Katsuki.” A stray tear makes itself down his face, you brush it away quickly, forehead pressed against his. You wonder then, if anyone has truly ever made an effort to understand the true Katsuki. His love was so unlike his brash outer personality. It was so quiet. Hands that cover corners as you walk behind his desk to assure you don’t run into it. Keen eyes, ever observant, assuring your comfortability. The way he smiles when he looks at his friends. How he allows them to poke and prod at them though if it were anyone else he would obliterate them in a second. Dynamight was loud, and rude, and explosive. Katsuki was kind, and loving— all consuming. His lips ghost over yours, breaths intermingling. His eyes darken when your tongue wets your lip, the warmth over it spreading through his chest. “I love you,” he says. “I know,” you whisper, hands moving to fist his shirt. 

“Can I–

“Please.”

Katsuki groans once his mouth is placed on yours, hand moving to your face as you deepen the kiss. His thumb brushes gently over your face before resting firmly on your neck to squeeze lightly. A whimper from you, followed by a growl from him, and you’re left straddling him. Hands grasping the strands of hair that rest at the nape of his neck. Your hips roll into him when he groans at your actions, tongue darting across your lips to ask for entrance. You oblige willingly, tongues dancing with each other. His hands pause their exploration of your body and move up to cradle your face. Breaking the kiss for a moment, he gazes into your eyes, his own filled with desire and a touch of vulnerability.

"I've never felt this way before," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Being with you feels different, like I'm falling into something I can't fully comprehend."

You smile warmly, running your fingers through his hair. "I feel the same way," you reply, sincerity lacing your words. “I want this, Katsuki. I want you.” His mouth presses firmly back onto yours, his hands resume their journey, tracing the curve of your back and finding their way beneath his shirt clad on you. His touch ignites a fire within you, causing your breath to hitch and your heart to race.

“Katsuki,” you whimper, “Please.” Sensing his hesitation you guide his hands to your waist, silently encouraging him to remove your shirt. As the fabric slips off your body, his eyes widen at the sight before him. He leans in, tracing kisses along your collarbone and down your chest, placing sloppy kisses and heated marks into the exposed skin. You let out a moan, hands fisting his hair as you grind yourself harder against him. You whimper when his mouth latches around your pert nipple, pulling him closer to your chest. He growls at this, flipping you to lay underneath him. 

Your hands explore his body, pushing up on his shirt. He allows you to glide your hands up his abdomen, a moan falling from his lips when you flick your fingers over his chest. “Fuck,” he whines, hips bucking into yours. 

He pulls away, hand grabbing at the back of his shirt to toss it next to yours, hands moving to the waistband of your sweats. “Is this okay?” he asks gently, fingers caressing your sides. You nod, whining when he pinches your side. “Words, sweetheart.” You whimper, hands clasping his wrists. “Please, Katsu.” Your pants and his own soon join the rest, hearts racing erratically. His lips move to your stomach, leaving heated kisses in his wake. Katsuki groans when he reaches your core, throwing your legs over his shoulder before biting into the plush skin of your thighs. You keen at his movements, hips bucking up as he soothes over the mark with his tongue. “Beg for it,” he whispers, fingers ghosting over your dripping heat. “Please, Katsuki. Need your mouth. Need it so bad. Need you.” 

He’s quick to follow orders, tongue swiping through your heat before wrapping around your clit and giving it a harsh suck. He moans into your heat, sending vibrations shooting up your spine. Your back arches at this, hands grasping his ash blond strands as you grind into him. “Fuck baby,” he moans, “just like that. Gonna use my tongue to get off? Gonna cream all over my face?” You cry out hips bucking into him as he flattens his tongue to allow you to grind into him. “Yes! Yesyesyes, Katsuki!” you moan, “Gonna make me cum.” His fingers dig into your sides, tongue moving to thrust into your aching core. “C’mon, sweetheart. Cum for Katsuki,” he snarls. 

Heat rushes over you, hips bucking greedily in his face as he drinks your release from your sloppy heat. 

He detaches from you after you push him away, the overstimulation causing your thighs to clamp around his head. His mouth moves back to yours, and you whine at the taste of you on his tongue. “Need to be in you,” he says, “please.” If someone had told you this morning that you’d have Dynamight begging to be in you, you’d laugh in their face. But this wasn’t Dynamight, this was Katsuki. Katsuki with his rough exterior, guarded heart, and warm eyes. Katsuki who made sure you always felt safe, who came to your rescue. Katsuki who had captured your bleeding heart, cradling it gently in his hands. “Want it all, Katsuki,” you whisper against his lips, “want all of you.” 

He shuffles to pull his boxers down, cock slapping against his stomach as he fumbles about. He glares when you laugh at his struggle, but you see the warmth resting behind his eyes. He pinches your side, gliding himself back over you. “Who is it?” he asks quietly. You look at him in confusion, hands gently cupping his face. “The guy who you need to get over, the one who’s unattainable.” You laugh softly, pressing a soft kiss to his plush lips. “You, Katsuki,” you whisper, “it’s always been you.” His lips crash onto yours, arms moving to wrap your legs over his waist. Katsuki runs his cock through your folds, tapping his cock onto your clit before pressing in slowly. Whimpers and swears fall from both your lips as he enters you, your nails digging crescents into his shoulders when you become one. “Katsuki,” you whine, “move.”

He pulls his hips back only to push forward with a snap, groans falling from his lips as he picks up his pace. “Fuck,” he murmurs, “feel even better than I imagined.” The heat of his words travels straight to your core, cunt clenching on his cock as you cry out. “So good,” you whine, “so big. Feel so good inside me.” He growls at your words, throwing your legs over his shoulders to push in deeper. “Yeah,” he says, voice raspy, “gonna carve this pussy into the shape of my cock. Make it mine.” Your eyes roll back, high pitched moans falling from your lips, “Course you like that,” he says, “want me to cum in this pussy too? Fill her up with my cum?” Incoherent whines fall from your lips, begging him to fill you up. 

“Say it,” he moans, “say you’re mine.” His hand moves to your clit, fingers rubbing harsh circles, hips snapping harder into you. “Yours!” you cry out, “All yours, Katsuki. Only you.” Curses fall from his lips, head falling to the crook of your neck. “Cum for me,” he begs, “cum on my cock and I’ll fill you up just like you want.” As if you’re under his spell, you cunt clenches at his words, head falling back as you gush all over his cock, hips bucking into him as your high washes over you. “Fuck, yeah. Just like that,” he says, “cream my fuckin’ cock.” His hips snap harshly into yours, hips pushing as deep as they can go when he releases into you. 

The heat of him filling you up nearly has you finishing again, eyes rolling back as he eases you both down from your highs. 

He pulls out of you with a hiss before collapsing on top of you, large frame dwarfing your own. You run your hands through his hair, pressing soft kisses to his scalp, humming all the while. As you lay there catching your breaths, you can’t help the broad smile that makes its way across your face. Your hands halt their movements as he pulls back, tired eyes looking back at you. “You okay?” you whisper to him. He shushes you with a kiss, followed by numerous pecks along your face before he stands. Your hips ache, and your head swims, but you don’t think you’ve ever been more content than this moment. 

A damp cloth causes you to flinch from your headspace, a mop of hair between your legs as he cleans you gently. “Stay the night?” he asks bashfully, thanking the gods above for the dim lighting in the room that hides his reddened cheeks. 

“Of course, Katsuki. I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

“How about forever?” he says with a grin.

He teases you as you bathe together, his chest pressed firmly to your back as he eases the ache from your hips. “Been wanting this for a while,” he says, pressing a kiss to your neck, “can’t believe you’re here.” You turn to face him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “What about work? Could we get into trouble?” He laughs at you, easing your worries. “I’m Dynamight, baby. I make my own rules.” And you can’t help but join in his laughter, hazy atmosphere drifting over the both of you. 

– 

The light streaming from the window pulls Bakugou from his slumber, groaning in irritation as he pulls your warm body closer, nuzzling his face into your neck. You shuffle against him, body turning to face him. He smiles brightly at you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You lay like that for a while, faces pressed against each other as you breathe in the warmth of the morning. He pulls away, finger tracing your features gently, flicking your nose when you bite his teasingly as he passes over your kiss bruised lips. You yelp as he does it, and he can’t help but soothe the ache with a kiss to your nose, then your cheeks, and your lips. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki could be such a sap in the morning? You nuzzle deeper into him, soft kisses pressed to the side of his neck. His legs move to entwine with your own fingers tracing shapes down your spine. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before standing up to head to his restroom, leaving you to your thoughts. When he enters the room again, in all his naked glory, you smile softly at him.

“Good morning, Katsuki.”

“Good morning, sweetheart.” 

You always make my week when u post!!!!

Aftershock

Kyoutani Kentarou x female reader

w.c 3.1k

tw: implied non-con, violence, unhealthy relationships, yandere themes

There’s an odd sort of calm you reach, half propped up in the hospital bed. 

Or maybe it’s not so much a calm as it is a numbness, because the overwhelming terror and panic have settled, and there’s an anger there, building slowly, simmering away beneath the surface – but you can’t touch it. Can’t feel it.

As though it’s separated by a thin pane of glass. Fragile, fractured, held back until that one tiny nudge shatters it entirely. 

The dam will break eventually, that’s an inevitability – but for now it holds. 

Barely. 

The officer who took your statement left ten minutes ago, the nurses ducking in and out of your room– well, bay really. Little more than cheap, plastic curtains pulled around the bed for the smallest semblance of privacy.

You’ve got nothing left to give, and the drugs they’ve loaded you up on take care of any pain.

So yeah, numb fits. 

When the doors to the ER ward are thrown open and a familiar, angry looking blond storms in, you can’t summon anything beyond a faint whisper of irritation, and even that fades before it can truly take hold of you.

Kyoutani ignores the nurse who approaches him, scanning the room until he spies you tucked away in your bed on the opposite side of the ward. 

The moment your eyes connect, he stiffens. It’s a rare thing to catch him so unguarded, but in the space of mere seconds, eyes wide and jaw lax, you physically see the barrage of emotions that slam into him, rippling across his features like shockwaves. Rage and fury and pain, guilt, relief, one after the other.

… And none of it reaches you. 

You wonder how it is you must look right now, bruised and battered, swallowed up under fluorescent lights, the harsh sterility of the hospital ward. 

Snapping himself out of it, you say nothing as he stalks towards you, yanking a chair from a nearby bay and dragging it to your bedside to sit, hunched over as close to the bed – to you – as he physically can. 

There’s no hiding the damage, so you don’t bother to try; fractured wrist, the swelling on your cheek from where you’d been slapped so hard your bones had sung with pain, the scrapes on your knees they’d plucked glass and gravel out of – bandaged now, not that it seems to make much of a difference. 

There’s a thin cut on your throat from where the knife had bit in, and you suppose you should be thankful that your clothes – torn and bloodied as they were – have been taken away, either to be disposed of or as evidence, you neither know nor have the capacity right now to care.

And with every second that stretches in uncomfortable silence, with every mark, every bruise, all the blood they hadn’t cleaned off and the hollow, haunted look in your eyes – seething, murderous rage blisters and burns beneath his skin, seeping out of every pore in his body until the air’s thick enough to choke you with it. 

He takes your face in rough, calloused hands – gentle, he always tries to be gentle – nostrils flaring, jaw tight. Yet he seems to be at war with himself, lips parting only to struggle to find words that won’t scare you – words that won’t shatter you right now.

But Kyoutani’s never been good with words at the best of times.

You reach up, hand enclosing around his wrist, prying it away from your face. His features soften then, a hint of real worry bleeding through the rage.

He lets you tug his hand away. 

“They said,” you voice is hoarse. Stiff, almost robotic. “I was… I was a message.”

The muscle in Kyoutani’s jaw twitches, the hand you’d pulled away tightening into a white knuckled fist. Normally, you’d try to calm that building rage, soften his harsh edges and coax him back to you. 

Somehow, somewhere along the way, that had become your sole responsibility, to act as the buffer between Kyoutani and everyone else. A temper to those baser, violent impulses. 

Why? Why was it your responsibility to tame him, when you hadn’t asked for any of this. One of his friends – though friend was probably too strong a word – laughed the first time he’d seen it in action, your hand on Kyoutani’s arm, the other cupping his jaw, begging him to calm down.

‘And here I thought our Kyoken was the one holding your leash. How interesting.’

His eyes had gleamed when he said it. 

It was like everyone else had just decided they preferred it that way; you made Kyoutani more palatable, and that made everything else easier, so why should it matter whether you wanted the job or not?

And what good did it ever do? At best, you’d stop him from launching himself across the bar at some guy who spent a second too long staring at your tits, at worst–

“Did you bring the clothes like they asked?”

Shoulders hunch, his gaze darting guiltily away for the briefest of moments, “… No.”

Of course not. Because the moment the nursing staff told him that you were here, that you were hurt, everything else would’ve been white noise. 

You breathe in. Out. Smooth down the starched, scratchy sheets. “I can’t leave without clothes, Kentarou.”

“I know that!” he snaps, only for his cheeks to darken with a blush. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll– here, take this.”

He’s shrugging out of his leather jacket, pushing it into your lap and you feel that niggling irritation bite at you once more. There’s a voice in the back of your head that tells you that he’s stressed and upset, that he’s trying.

You don’t care. 

The beeping of machines around you, a steady thrum of noise – nurses and doctors darting around, patients coughing, a baby wailing for its mother. Every sound grating on your already frayed nerves, and Kyoutani’s still trying to push his jacket on you – like you can just walk out of here wearing that and nothing else, like that’s supposed to fix any of this, and in an instant that fragile little bubble you’ve wrapped yourself in, tamping down the hysteria bubbling away underneath, splinters.

“I don’t need your stupid jacket, I need my fucking clothes!”

Kyoutani jerks a little, wide eyed. The people closest – patients and their visitors in the nearby beds, the doctor who treated you when you arrived and the nurses hovering around the admin station turn to stare, the sharpness of your voice rising above the routine clamour of the busy ER.

Most glance away quickly, but it makes no difference. 

Your own cheeks burn in embarrassment, a thick lump settling in your throat as hot tears well and glisten unshed. You blink them back viciously, fighting to keep from letting those cracks shatter you entirely – again – right here in front of everybody, in front of him.

You won’t be some spectacle for them all to see. 

“Please, I need my clothes so we can go. I just want to go home, okay?” you say, the words little more than a choked whisper. If anything, that only serves to heighten the panicked look in his eyes. 

He nods, a short, sharp jerk of his head. “Yeah. Yeah that’s– I won’t– ‘m not leaving you, but– I’ll get ‘em.”

In the end, he calls one of his friends to do the job, a tall, dark haired man you vaguely recognise. He passes Kyoutani a duffle bag full of what you can only assume is an assortment of your own clothes, eyebrows knitting together in a distinct frown as he takes in your condition. Whatever thoughts he has, he keeps them to himself, and you find yourself grateful for that small mercy. 

When he turns back to Kyoutani, though, something heavy – significant – passes wordlessly between them.

Kyoutani, talkative as ever, thanks him with a nod, “I owe you one.”

Iwaizumi – it is Iwaizumi, right? – simply nods in return. His eyes flicker back to you, another assessing once over, “Look after her, yeah? We’ll talk later.”

And then he’s gone too. 

They let you go and get dressed. Kyoutani’s seen you naked more times than you care to count. Sick as a dog, drooling in your sleep and drunk before, and yet there’s something distinctly humiliating about having to rely on him to dress yourself because your legs are still too shaky to stand properly and trying to pull on the jeans Iwa brought you – much less button them – with a broken wrist is nearly impossible. 

And even if it weren’t, you doubt he’d be willing to let you out of his sight right now. 

It’s the quiet that fills the space between you, the way he goes about helping you – glancing up to check each time he touches you. Hesitant, because there’s no hiding how you flinch every time he moves too quickly, how quick you are to have his hands off you. 

Kyoutani’s a lot of things; aggressive, hot tempered, volatile, stubborn. Quick to lash out and violent when he does so. He’s not stupid, though. 

The Doctor speaks to you again before you leave, passes you packets of painkillers with instructions to take two every six hours and tells you to come back in six to seven weeks time to assess removing your cast. 

He also hands you a card with the name and phone number of a psychologist neatly printed in black lettering. “She specialises in cases like yours. It might… help.”

No, Kyoutani isn’t stupid. 

He says little on the drive back to your apartment, a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. 

Or at least, you’d thought he was driving you back to your apartment. Ten minutes in, and you realise the route he’s taking doesn’t lead home, but to his place. Home, you’d said. You wanted to go home.

Kyoutani’s apartment, for all the time you spend there, has never been home. 

It’s not worth the effort of arguing with him right now, so you bite your tongue. With an arm anchored around your waist, pointedly ignoring your attempts to push him away and do it yourself, he guides you inside. 

Locks the door behind him, setting you gently onto the couch. 

A beat of silence passes. 

Kyoutani hoarsely clears his throat, rounding on you. “Tell me what happened,” he demands. “Everything.”

Tell him so he can go and find every last one of them that dared lay a finger on you. Tell him so he knows exactly how long he should drag it out for. An eye for an eye, right?

You’d made your mind up hours ago, when you were shakily recounting your attack to the police officer who found you. Or maybe it was before that, even – lying half naked, shivering and bloody and sobbing amidst the filth of that alleyway, every tiny movement bringing a fresh wave of pain.

Maybe you’d made your mind up months ago, you were just too much of a coward to do anything about it. 

You breathe in. Breathe out. 

“I’m done, Kentarou.” Lifting your chin, you meet those burning, honey darkened eyes. “We’re done. I won’t do this anymore, I– I can’t.”

His silence is thunderous. You force yourself to keep going.

“Tonight… shouldn’t’ve happened. You– you’re not good for me, but I thought–” a harsh, slightly hysterical laugh bubbles up, surprising both of you. It sounds more like a sob. “I thought that if I left you’d get angry and you’d– you’d hurt me, kill me, even, but I’m gonna end up dead either way, right? It’s a lose lose situation.”

Kyoutani takes a step towards you then, and you flinch back into the couch, shaking your head. “No, no! Don’t, I just– I want to go home, Kyoutani. I wanna go home!”

You’re hyperventilating now, and this time he doesn’t stop in his pursuit to reach you. “You are home,” he mutters. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He pulls you onto his lap, half cradling you while you shudder, sobbing into his shoulder. 

He’ll only ever hear what he wants to.

“You’re safe here, I’ll fix it, okay?”

Fix it, as though beating the men who attacked you to a violent, bloody death will somehow magically make things right between you.

And you can picture it clear as day; he’ll hold you til the tears subside, til exhaustion and grief wear you down and you don’t fight it when he carries you into the bedroom. He’d want to stay, to keep watch after coming so close to losing you entirely, but his anger, as always, would win out.

He’d wait until you were fast asleep, dead to the world, before locking you up like a princess in a tower to go and chase down those who’d hurt you. You wouldn’t tell him the details, not the names you’d overheard or the descriptions of your assailants. It wouldn’t matter. Either he knew exactly who’d done it and why, or he’d take that jagged, snarling rage of his and lash out at anyone he’d ever pissed off just in case they’d be stupid enough to try coming after the one thing – one person – Kyoutani Kentarou gave a fuck about.

Tomorrow you’d wake, and maybe with a clearer head you’d try to bring this up again. Or maybe you’d just go; call your sister or one of your friends the first opportunity you get – you haven’t spoken to any of them in months, would any of them actually pick up? – to come and take you away, someplace safe. You could change the locks on your place in the short term, look for a better apartment somewhere on the other side of the city, maybe.

Maybe.

The smell of cigarettes clings to him, the leather of his jacket, the same one he’d tried to push onto you back at the hospital, his aftershave, woodsy and spiced. Once, those familiar scents might have been a comfort to you. Now, they’re as suffocating as the rest of him.

The Mad Dog’s whore, they’d called you, spitting it at you while they kicked and kicked and kicked. 

“It’s your fault.”

The words come quietly, barely more than a whisper, yet they ring through his apartment like the tolling of a bell. 

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

With your face buried in his chest, you can’t see his expression change but oh, you feel the way his body tenses like a live wire. The rabid snarl he physically has to bite down on lest it rip through the room and expose him for the animal he is. 

And there’s an unspoken warning in the way his grip tightens, unintentionally crushing you against him. He’s hurting you, your fractured wrist and bruised ribs crying out as Kyoutani fights to keep that hair trigger temper of his in check. 

Yet the words wouldn’t sting if they weren’t true, and in that moment, you know you’ve struck your mark. It’s almost worth it, a bittersweet, biting victory amidst overwhelming defeat. And drunk on that vindictiveness, too far gone to back out now and desperate to inflict a fraction of the pain you’re feeling back onto him, you double down and twist the knife.

“You might as well have been the one holding me down, ‘Tarou. You did this to me, and I’ll never stop hating you for it.”

He does snarl then, ripping himself away from you like your very touch burns. His face is alight, fury radiating off of him, teeth bared, eyes near feral. This is the Mad Dog everyone else sees, the monster – rabid and dangerous – that he tries and fails to hide beneath clumsy tenderness and affection.  

Physically shaking with fury, hands flexing in and out of fists, he stares you down, each breath leaving him in heaving, ragged pants. Kyoutani towers over you, broad and muscular, savage and utterly enraged.

And in the thick, palpable tension, in the seconds that stretch and warp, passing like molasses from one moment to the next, you wonder if he’s going to take a swing at you. Wrap his hands around your delicate throat and throttle you. Kill you, even. He certainly looks angry enough. 

Instead, after what feels like an eternity, Kyoutani snorts like a bull, turning on his feet and storming out without another word, slamming the door shut with enough force that the whole apartment shakes and rattles.

You don’t move for a long time after that.

At first, you tell yourself that you’re waiting to see if he comes back. Kyoutani’s always been rash and hot headed, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d left in the heat of an argument only to return a short while later with flowers and some grunted out, pained sounding apology. 

And then… well, you don’t quite know after that. 

Sunlight begins to creep through the window, and you curl up on the couch. The painkillers they gave you still have a few good hours left in them, but your whole body feels weirdly heavy. Exhausted. After your vicious little outburst, you’ve run completely out of steam. 

There’s nothing left for you to give. 

The tears come again, silent and pained, streaming down your cheeks. Your whole heart aches.

You think you’re grieving; for what happened to you tonight, for the awful, inescapable mess that you’ve tangled yourself up in. 

And you could go now, leave this apartment – and Kyoutani – behind. Maybe you’d make it. Maybe your sister would come. Maybe his friends are downstairs waiting in case you try anything. Or someone less friendly with a score to settle.

Maybe it wouldn’t even matter, because Kyoutani would rather set the world on fire and watch it burn than let you go, whether you leave this apartment or not. 

Minutes tick by – or is it hours? – and eventually your breathing evens out and sleep comes and takes you.

You stir not to the sound of the door opening, but the scent of something sharp and coppery, of cigarettes and leather, and warm, familiar aftershave. Strong arms lift you up. 

Kyoutani says nothing as he carries you to his bed, sets you down gently and crawls in to take the space behind you, shifting the blankets up so they cover you both. His lips press against your hair, a heavy arm sliding over your middle, pulling you snug against him.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbles gruffly, and you wonder what it is he thinks he’s apologising for.

Heavy eyelids fall shut.

You don’t fight sleep when it beckons once more.

cipher I

ran x reader, mikey x reader, sprankle of rindou x reader

summary - you’d been dating Haitani Ran for nearly six months when you discover a letter in code on his desk. When you decipher it, it brings more questions than answers.

cws - rough sex, f!sub reader, intrigue, code, mystery, ran and mikey are both in love with you, reader is in grad school, smut. bonten ish timeline. this ch: drugging of reader(consensual, she knows it's in there and doesn't refuse to drink it), alcohol, jealousy, mikey kisses ran’s gf(you) this chapter. not real manga spoilers i killed some characters off pre this timeline but that’s an emme thing not necessarily a wakui thing.

note - im re writing this but this chapter has light rewrites. it's also posted on ao3.

- next

Ran bursts into the room loudly and Mikey scowls, unable to look away from his subordinate’s huge hand resting on the curve of your waist. Ran’s silver rings glint in the low light of the private dining room at the back of the club, and despite his best efforts, Mikey can’t help but bristle at the mark of casual ownership as you shift your weight uncomfortably in your heels. 

“What’s so important that I needed to drive across town?” He drawls, violet eyes icy. “We good to just let her wait outside?” Kokonoi nods, and gestures to one of the men by the door. 

“Keep an eye on Ran’s,” he pauses, and Mikey’s stomach does a backflip as a huge smile spreads across your face, and you glow with joy like a candle lit on a cold winter night. You giggle, the sound is bell-like, it cuts through the smokey silence.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Ran says, the way someone announces a hard earned promotion, and the way you smile at the idea of belonging to, to that fucking oaf pushes Mikey to down the rest of his drink. “So keep your hands to yourself, huh,” he says to the man with a wink, who nods,

“Yes sir.” He says. You take the new man’s arm agreeably, and Ran palms him some cash, before collapsing on the table, and pouring himself a drink. 

“Girlfriend, huh?” Kokonoi says, raising an eyebrow. 

“He just wants kids.” Rindou pipes up from the corner, bitterness dripping from his voice. “He’s not gonna stick with this once he gets what he wants.” 

“I absolutely am,” Ran counters, a cocky smile playing on his lips, “Have you seen her? And she’s the best pussy I’ve ever gotten, so guess what, fellas?” Rindou groans, massaging his temples. “I’m locking it down.” 

“You’d have to,” Rindou snips, “Before she realizes she’s a grad student with a world class IQ dating someone who’s preferred method of argument is a brick-” Ran rolls his eyes. 

“Enough.” Mikey says quietly, ending the conversation. Kokonoi pushes a folder across the table. “Someone sent this to Kisaki.” Ran raises his eyebrows.

“To Kisaki?” He opens the folder, and takes out a folded letter, printed on heavy cardstock. It’s embossed with a blood red dragon. The letter itself is incomprehensible at first glance, complete gibberish. “Why would we get a letter in code?” He murmurs, “What’s the purpose?” 

“Look at the address at the top.” Rindou says, a touch of impatience to his voice. Ran obeys, brow furrowing. 

“That’s the address to the apartment we shared that summer,” Ran says, meeting his brothers eyes across the table, “That’s an address in Roppongi?” 

“Whatever’s in this letter,” Rindou leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, “It’s addressed to you and I.” Ran nods, snapping a picture of the letter on this phone. 

“The red dragon’s are new,” Mikey takes a sip of his drink and shrugs, “Whoever they are, I’ve never heard of them.”

“Where’s Kakucho,” Ran asks, fumbling for his Juul, taking a puff, filling the air with an artificial cotton candy scent. “And uh, the rest of ‘em?” 

“Busy.” Mikey responds without making eye contact. “I’ll read them in for you. See if you can make sense of the letter.” Ran nods, “Whatever it is, it seems to have to do with the two of you.” 

______ 

Ran finds you at the party easily, your laugh coruscating above the low music, the clouds of smoke, the dull roar of conversation. Anxiety twists in his stomach but he relaxes a little when he sees you standing with another woman. 

“Baby,” he says, snaking an arm around your waist. “Who’s this?” 

“Elena,” You gesture to the beautiful woman, in a slinky purple dress, her dark eyes sparkling in the low light. “This is my boyfriend,” you can’t say it without giggling, “Haitani Ran.” He moves to stand behind you, folding over a little so that he can tuck your head under his chin. “Elena works with um,” you gesture, trying to remember, “Your um, your friend, Kokonoi.” Ran sizes two things up very quickly, one, there’s no way Elena works with Koko, her dress is off the rack, her nails are unmanicured, and there’s a tattoo that snakes around her neck that he’d remembered. It’s a python, curling down her arm, the head resting below her clavicle, its eyes as cold and dead as her own. 

“She was just getting me a drink,” you say, and Ran gives her his most bone chilling smile, the kind that’s all lips and teeth, and no warmth in his eyes. 

“If you’ll forgive me,” He gives you a squeeze, “I'll get my lady here a drink, I’m old fashioned like that.” Elena presses her lips together. “Koko will be out in a bit, if you want to see him?”  She shakes her head. 

“Oh,” you reach out and touch her arm. Ran thinks for a moment about how much he loves how trusting you are, and how often it wakes him up at night. “But you were looking for him, right?” Ran narrows his eyes at her.

“I can have some people show you where he is?” He keeps his tone casual as he offers.

“I will find him myself.” She says, giving you both a curt smile, he recognizes her accent as Russian. “Nice to meet you, Haitani.” 

“Likewise.” He watches her disappear into the crowd and decides it’ll be someone elses problem, turning back to you, “Sweetheart, you look fucking stunning,” You laugh again, tension dissipating, “Seriously, every guy in here  is eyeing up what’s mine,” he takes your arm and spins you like you’re swing dancing. 

“Ran,” you laugh again and he spins you into his chest. “You’re just paranoid,” he cups your face with both hands, leaning down and kissing you tenderly before leading you on to the dance floor. 

_____

Mikey stands at the doorway, watching Ran’s hands wander your body, pulling your hips flush against his own. 

“You could have asked her out,” Mikey doesn’t jump at Kokonoi’s voice behind him. “You saw her first.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turns to the other man, who raises his eyebrows. 

“So we’re going to pretend you’re not staring at Ran’s girl instead of going home with any other woman here.” He says, a smirk flashing on his face. “That’s fine, boss, I can look away” Mikey shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t,” he says, frustrated, “You don’t just pull someone into this life, without thinking about it.” 

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Koko drawls, “That he didn’t think?” Mikey turns away from the party, heading back to the private dining room. “It’s Haitani,” Koko follows him, “He wanted something so he took it.” 

“When you pick flowers, they die.” Mikey says, emotionless, remembering the cut roses on Emma’s, on Baji’s, on Draken’s graves. He steps into the private room, Rindou’s left to join the party. “I was thinking, that when you pick flowers, they die.” He massages his temples. 

“Well he was thinking about her pussy,” Koko says, pouring himself another drink. Mikey groans loudly.

“My head hurts.” He complains, the dull throbbing at the back of his neck only grows by the hour, he takes another swig of his drink. “Tell them that I want everything on these red dragons on my desk in the morning. Everything they can find in twelve hours.” 

“Yes, sir.” Kokonoi responds, and Mikey hesitates. 

“Why don’t you join the party?” He asks, and he sees it again, that heavy, dark sadness, that mutual feeling that had sparked the friendship between them. 

“There’s nothing for me out there.” He says, gravel in his voice. Mikey nods, and goes to get another drink. 

“For me either.” The lie falls from his lips like water. 

______

The party is in full swing a few hours later, when he watches you slink off, stumbling down a hallway. He sighs, following you, Ran’s distracted by some spectacle, drugs, maybe, he hopes it’s another woman but knows that you somehow have held his attention longer than any of your predecessors. He finds you laying on a bench in a hallway upstairs, and he nearly stops breathing when you reach for him. For a moment he wonders if you’ve made a mistake, if you think he’s Haitani, but when he sits next to you, you sigh his name, a soft, sad song. 

“Mikey,” you say again. You sit up and rest your head on his shoulder. He can feel the warmth of your cheek through his t-shirt. “Am I an idiot?” You slur a little, and he grunts lightly, breaking every rule he has when he slips an arm around your waist, his fingers sinking into the plush of your hip. He doesn’t answer, so you lift your head a little to see if he heard, but he pushes you back down into his shoulder. 

  “You’re drunk.” He responds. You can feel the base from the party downstairs reverberating through the walls. 

“But am I,” you sigh, “What am I doing, Mikey?” You rub your eyes. “I know, alright, I know you ‘n Ran don’t work in finance.” You sigh, picking at the hem of your dress. His heart thrums in his chest at your closeness, despite your words he’s elated, happier than he’s ever been, maybe, and your makeup is smudged under your eyes in the most perfect way. “I know you’re, you’re involved in some bad shit.” 

“Bad shit?” Mikey repeats, almost not listening to you, delighting in your soft body pressed against his. 

“I’m not,” you sit up a little but he pushes you back down again, this time tucking your head under his chin to hold you in place. You continue. “I’ve seen things, alright, but that's not important. I’d never, never do anything to hurt you, or him.” He’s silent, you smell so good, like sweet strawberry shampoo and daydreaming, like the crisp fall air, like the last time he’d actually felt invincible. “M right, aren’t I?” You say staring straight ahead, having given up trying to move away from him to look in his eyes. 

“You’re safe.” he says, by way of confirmation. “I’d never let anything,” his grip on you tightens, “Not anything ever, happen to you.” 

“I trust you.” You murmur and his chest aches dully. He makes a decision, sighing.

“You’re not going to remember this,” He fumbles for something in his pocket.

“Fuck you,” you giggle, “Yeah I will.” 

“No,” he says, taking a flask from his suit jacket, and dropping a pill into it, watching it sink to the bottom of the metal container. “No  you won’t.” 

“Mikey,” you whine, eyes widening, “Don’t wanna, don’t wanna forget.” You nuzzle into him. “I had fun, had a good time.” 

“Be a good girl for me,” he says, his heart aching in his chest, but his eyes darkening. “Drink up.” You take the metal flask in your hands, you let out a short huffy breath. He reaches out to tip  it into your mouth. He stops, a thought forming, and before he can stop himself, he leans forward, every nerve in his body sizzling like a high wire on a humid day. “Just, give me this.” There’s something soft in his tone borne from one of the last warm parts of his soul. He leans forward and kisses you hard, grabbing at your face, sucking at your lower lip with a clumsy, desperate hunger. He pulls away, breathing hard, his blood roaring in his ears. 

“Mikey.” You whisper, staring at him scandalized. You didn’t slap him, hadn’t run to tell Haitani. Both, he tells himself are good signs. That is, until you open your mouth and speak again, voice infused with an acid desperation. “Am I making a mistake?”He presses his lips together, thinking for a moment, before taking the flask from you and holding it to your lips. You drink obediently, and then wipe your mouth, coughing at the bitter taste. 

“You already made one,” he says, watching your eyes lose focus, and then flutter shut. You lay down on the bench and rest your head on his lap, and unconsciousness sweeps you away. He starts to pet your head but he withdraws his hand quickly as he hears Ran thundering up the stairs. He takes in the scene for a second before sighing with relief. His eyes are wild, and his hands are shaking. 

“Shit, we’re uh, Sanzu brought a fuckton of coke, is she passed out?” Mikey nods, flashing the metal flask. “Ugh,” Ran rubs his eyes. “What did she see?” Me, Mikey thinks. 

“She’s onto you.” He says shortly, reluctantly scooting away from your unconscious form. “Onto us. You gotta read her in or cut her loose.” Ran nods, eyes artificially wide and focused. 

“You give her something?” He asks and Mikey nods, standing. 

“She’s not gonna remember tonight.” Mikey finds the ability to keep his voice cool and nonchalant, as if the idea of you forgetting him didn’t shatter whatever he had left in his chest. Ran nods again, more slowly this time.

“Probably for the best,” He lifts you up off the couch in one smooth movement, “She wasn’t having a good time,” he coos down at your limp form, “Baby never drinks that much, I dunno what got into her.” Mikey doesn’t respond for a moment, thinking. “Shit, though, she was talking to someone, I wanted to ask her about it.” He muses, turning to Mikey. “Woman said her name was Elena, and that she was here for Koko, but obviously wasn’t. Snake tattoo. Ring a bell?” Mikey shakes his head, looking mildly concerned. 

“Are you going to take her home?”

“Back to my place.” Ran confirms. “I’ll uh, I’ll do coke with Sanzu another time.” This, Mikey thinks, this is the worst part. Because if Ran were shitty, and awful, and villainous, he could justify it, he could have Sanzu put a bullet in his fucking head, and be done with it, he could sweep you off your feet, buy you anything you wanted, fuck your brains out. But you bring out a side of the executive that Mikey’s never seen before. It’s almost, kind. Almost. “Gotta take care of my bitch,” he kisses your forehead, cooing condescendingly. “If I don’t lay her down right she could choke on her own puke if she throws up, these forget me pills are strong shit.” A vein in Mikey’s forehead twitches. 

“Are you reading her in?” He pushes.

“To the Bonten shit?” Ran looks conflicted, and Mikey knows why. Knows that the ‘bad shit’ Ran and Bonten gets up to might scare you away for good. “Nah, I dunno,” he hesitates, leaning against the wall. “I dunno.” He repeats. You let out a soft, uncomfortable moan. “Alright, alright,” he grumbles, shifting you so that your face is in his neck, and he’s holding you with one hand. “Baby let’s getcha home.” He thumps down the stairs and as soon as he’s gone Mikey whips the metal flask as hard as he can at the opposite wall.  “Fuck,” he snaps, when it just dents the wall and doesn’t break, and rubs his eyes. “Fuck.”

Mental Health Collab 

A/N: Nekoma College Au, everything is the same but they’re a university team in the American Midwest, Severe Social Anxiety/Panic Attack!Reader, Kenma is a sweet babie in this. 

TW: Large Groups, Panic Attack, Loud Sounds, Tornado Siren

Kenma barely remembers to lift his head when Coach Nekomata leads another unfamiliar student into the gym at the end of practice. There’s something familiar to him about your stance, your body language, the way you orient yourself just slightly less than perpendicular to the group, so that you can avoid any direct gaze. 

“This is y/n.” He says, eyes sweeping across the boys, a warning. 

“Are we finally getting a girl manager!” Lev blurts out, “Because it’s about time!” There’s a smattering of chuckles and Yaku kicks the giant boy in the ankles, hard. 

“No.” Nekomata clarifies. “She’s at the head of the pre-med program and she’s going to be our on-call sports medic for the rest of the season. Do not,” He eyes Lev and then Yamamoto, “Overwhelm her. She’s a professional, here to do a job, a job we’re paying her for.” He nods at you to introduce yourself. You shove your shaking hands in your pockets, you need this money, you need this money, for textbooks. 

“H-hi.” You choke out, giving them a quick nod. Kenma is staring at you, while everyone goes around and says their name, there’s something about the shape of your profile, the air in your voice sounds like a gentle breeze, maybe it’s your eyes, wide and nervous, but he wants to reach out touch you, to see if you’re as soft as you look, as you sound. He rarely feels the desire to enter another person’s space, it’s strange.  But it’s like, he can see where your soul concaves. He can feel your hands shaking in their pockets, can estimate the angle of your slumped shoulders, he can see how perfectly you’d fit nestled against his chest. He must be visibly zoned out because Kuroo reaches over and touches his shoulder. 

“You’re staring, Kenma.” Kuroo says, in an uncharacteristically low voice, reserved for sincerity. “She hasn’t noticed yet, look away.” 

Keep reading

Tailspin

it's still the weekend somewhere, right??

Matsuno Chifuyu, Baji Keisuke & Hanemiya Kazutora x female reader

w.c 6.3k

tw: noncon, yandere themes, character death, manga spoilers, minor blood and gore, violence, nsfw, smut, murder

Chifuyu remembers things he shouldn’t.

Events that never happened, fights, brawls, the death of his friends… his own demise, drugged and tied to a chair, the muzzle of Kisaki’s pistol, burning from the prior shot, pressed to his forehead in the split seconds before he pulled the trigger.

He remembers other things too. Futures that clash and diverge, timelines that can’t have existed, they play out in his head, over and over again.

“Who’s that chick talking with Emma?”

Chifuyu doesn’t have to follow Baji’s line of sight to know who he’s talking about. Inevitably though, he does, catching you giggle at something the blonde says, sipping absentmindedly at the glass of champagne clasped in your fingers. 

His gaze slips to the dress you’re wearing, a satiny, floor-length floral and blush number, lingering on the slit at your mid thigh – the flash of skin he gets when you shift your weight.

His throat dries, and Chifuyu covers it with a cough, tearing his attention back to the table, his own drink in front of him, a bead of condensation slowly rolling down the glass. “A friend of Hina’s.” He shoots Baji a brief, pointed look, “And she’s got a boyfriend.”

Fuyu remembers him, too. 

Baji’s canines glint in a toothy smirk. “Yeah? He here tonight?”

As if on cue, a familiar, handsome brunet appears at your side, leaning down to drop a kiss to your cheek, his arm winding loosely around your side. There’s nothing all that possessive about the gesture – it’s unthinking. Instinctual. It has you smiling, mid-way through whatever it is you’re saying to the youngest Sano.

His chest tightens.

That same man, not nearly so good looking with his face all smashed in, leaking brains and blood onto the concrete–

“Shame,” Kazutora, sitting on his other side, murmurs, his dark, honey eyes still drinking you in as he downs another mouthful of whiskey. The corner of his lip quirks up, “She’s cute.”

‘There. Problem solved.’

Chifuyu returns the grin, leaning back in the chair with an exaggerated sigh, “Do not get into a fight on Takemitchy’s wedding day.” He side-eyes Baji, “Either of you.”

“You scared of him?”

“No, I don’t want to be kicked out of the reception because you two idiots started an all out brawl,” he laughs, and prays that neither one of them notice that his hands are all clammy, gripping too tightly at his drink. 

“What kinda wedding doesn’t have at least one good fight?” Baji scoffs, only half serious – enough of a concession that something loosens inside of him and his next breath comes easier.

Baji won’t start a fight, Kazutora won’t start a fight. It’ll be fine. 

You’re close with Hina and Emma and friends with Takemichi by extension. But gone are the days of Toman, where they’d spend the better part of their time screwing around together. Their lives aren’t all tangled up like they used to be. Another few hours, and this’ll be over. You’ll be gone, taking your stupid, handsome boyfriend with you and Chifuyu won’t have to worry about seeing you again. He can go back to pretending that you don’t exist.

Anything else is…dangerous. 

Moments later, they’re joined by Mitsuya and Hakkai, Yuzuha drifting to join the girls, and the conversation shifts to other, safer topics. Plates of canapes come by, and they eat and drink and talk stupid shit, most of it laughing and reminiscing over the dumb things they’d done with Takemichi as kids. 

For a while, it feels like he can breathe. Relax, and enjoy this, because it didn’t come easy. 

And you, you look happy enough with whatever his fucking name is. Chifuyu tells himself that that’s a good thing, too. 

The night wears on, slow, romantic tunes drifting from the speakers. In small groups and pairs, their friends have begun to leave, either heading home to crash or to find somewhere more lively to keep the party going. 

Amongst the few couples remaining, Hina and Takemichi cling to each other, swaying drunkenly on the dance floor, oblivious to anyone or anything but the other. It’s cute, in a disgustingly mushy sort of way. For his part, Chifuyu hangs by the open bar, nursing a glass of whiskey and doing his utmost to focus on anything but the space you occupy, dancing with your boyfriend. 

“You’re staring again.”

“Fuck off,” the words come out more tired than anything else. 

Kazutora drops into the empty seat beside him. “From the moment she walked in tonight, you’ve been all… weird about her. Why?”

‘Please, you’ve gotta help me get out of here, he– he’ll be back any minute.’

Chifuyu shrugs, “‘s nothing, really she just… reminds me of someone, that’s all.”

Kazutora hums, looking entirely unconvinced. For whatever reason, and much to his relief, he decides not to push it.

Bruised, split knuckles grip your chin tight, ‘You’re gonna be good for us tonight,’ Baji smirks. ‘‘Cause I’m really, really not in the fuckin’ mood, princess.’

“C’mon,” Chifuyu says, knocking back the last of his whiskey and slamming the glass down. “We should head out. Some of us have to open the store tomorrow.”

Kazutora snorts, but follows suit without complaint. The sooner they’re gone – the sooner you’re out of sight, out of mind – the better.

—

When Chifuyu shoots awake with a gasp, pulse racing, heavy beads of sweat rolling from the nape of his neck down his spine, it’s to the sound of his phone vibrating insistently.

Kazutora, he realises when bleary eyes adjust to the bright screen, and with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, he answers the call.

Wide, panicked eyes meeting his, hands grasping tightly at his arms. Two bodies lie on the floor; only one draws breath.

‘It was an accident, I swear to fucking god– you have to believe me. You believe me, right, Fuyu?’

The sheer relief that hits when the first words out of Kazutora’s mouth aren’t some combination of ‘I fucked up’, but ‘It’s Baji’ nearly knocks the breath right out of him.

Least ‘til they’re followed up with ‘accident’ and ‘ER’. 

He’s never thrown clothes on quicker.

The stuff he remembers from before – the timelines that don’t exist – they’re not always clear. Sometimes it’s difficult for him to place certain events in the right order, in the right timeline. He doesn’t always remember the knock on effect.

Baji’s death isn’t like that. 

You don’t forget that kind of pain. And yeah, maybe he got Kazutora out of it in the end, but fuck it almost destroyed him.

They saved him, though. They went back and they fixed it. He survived and Emma survived and Mikey and Draken and everyone – this is the future they’d fought tooth and nail for. This is their happily ever fucking after, and he can’t–

He won’t consider the possibility of another future without either one of his best friends in it.

Bursting through the doors of the ER, he feels all jumbled, heart beating out a frantic rhythm, breath coming ragged as though he’d physically run the five miles to get here. He scours the room… and spots Baji half propped up in a bed on the other side of the ward.

Awake, looking like he’d been dragged halfway to hell but–

Okay. He’s okay. 

The tension – part of it at least – lifts itself from his shoulders with a shaky exhale. 

Kazutora, sprawled across a chair beside him, notices him before Baji does. “You look like shit,” he comments, a wry grin tugging at his lips.

It earns him a smack to the back of his head as Chifuyu slides on past, grabbing another nearby seat and plonking himself down. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” He tries to laugh it off, really he does. There’s a few bandages, what looks like a broken arm, some cuts and grazes on his face. They’ve all landed themselves in the ER in worse states than this and come out the other side perfectly fine, but he can’t–

He can’t stop seeing it play out in his head, over and over. 

Baji dying. The sense of utter helplessness that swallowed him whole, clutching his dead body in his arms. The sound of his best friend’s last breath, that fucking smile–

‘I’d kill for some peyoung yakisoba right now.’

Baji scoffs, “Some asshole clipped me is what fucking happened.” Side-eyeing him, he adds, “Relax, dude, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

He really needs to lighten the fuck up. 

“We’re waiting on–”

“–go already?! You got me here, I don’t need your help anymore, go home.”

Chifuyu’s eyes – Baji’s and Kazutora’s too– shift instinctively to the source of the outburst. Wheeled in by a nurse, your boyfriend trailing behind you like a kicked puppy, Chifuyu’s heart leaps into his throat at the sight of you, tear stricken, pain etched over every inch of the scowl you wear, clutching an ice pack to your ankle. 

‘Pick.’

Fearful eyes flicker between them, silently pleading for a reprieve. ‘But I-I haven’t done anything.’

He hums contentedly, and takes your hand in his, fingers entwining to bring it to his cheek, nuzzling against the soft skin. “Maybe not… but you were thinking about it. So pick one, or I’ll break them both.”

Something dark and unpleasant roils in his stomach.

“Babe, can we–” your boyfriend glances around the room, visibly cringing at unwanted attention the two of you have drawn. He lowers his voice to a hushed whisper, “Can we talk about this later? I get that you’re upset–”

Beside him, Kazutora’s head tilts, “Isn’t that…?” 

“…Yeah.”

“Considering it’s your fault that I’m here in the first place, yeah, you could say I’m pretty pissed!” you snap.

The nurse, doing her absolute best to ignore the squabbling and maintain some air of professionalism, gives you a sympathetic look as she parks the wheelchair next to a bed opposite the three of them and helps you up. “The doctor won’t be long,” she says, patting your shoulder before she turns to depart.

… Not without a sharp, pointed glare towards your harried looking boyfriend. 

That’s all background noise. Chifuyu’s too busy turning those words over and over in his head, waiting for them to click.

Your fault.

Your. Fault. 

And his eyes shift back to the ice pack you’re holding to a swollen ankle, the sheen of tears on your face, and a sudden, violent urge claws its way to the surface. It takes every ounce of self control he possesses not to launch himself across the room and start beating the shit out of him right there and then.

If he touched you, if that asshole fucking hurt you–

“That’s not fair. I said I was sorry–”

“Oh, you’re sorry?! Go to hell, Ginji! Actually, no. On second thought why don’t you go back to Rin’s instead, sounded like her bed was real cold without you there to fucking warm it!” 

While your voice quavers, the words are no less acidic. No less furious. You might be on the verge of shattering, but if looks could kill, your piece of shit boyfriend would be dead twice over.

Ginji stands there, mouth opening and closing soundlessly, floundering for words. 

He goes to touch your shoulder only to second guess himself, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air for a moment, then dropping back down to his side – a good decision on his part, considering Chifuyu’s half tempted to march his way over there and break it. 

Cheating? That piece of shit was cheating on you? 

Huh. Maybe the universe does have a sense of humour after all, twisted as it is.

Your boyfriend at least has the decency to look ashamed of himself, cheeks flushing pink. Rather than meeting your accusatory stare, his eyes are downcast, the speckled linoleum suddenly infinitely more interesting to the man. 

“It was a mistake,” he admits, choking the words out like they’re physically stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t– I never meant to hurt you. I love you.”

Bitterly, you scoff, and Ginji flinches like you’ve struck him.

Good, Chifuyu thinks. Someone should hit the asshole. 

He, Baji and Kazutora aren’t the only ones drawn in by your argument. The doctors and nurses that breeze past, slowing their pace ever so slightly to catch a few seconds more, the patients in the beds around you, subtly leaning in, hushing their friends and families to better hear the drama unfold.

If you were less worked up, all the attention you two have drawn would probably bother you a hell of a lot more than it currently is. 

You weren’t the kind of girl who got off on causing a scene. The nosiness, complete strangers watching something deeply personal between you two unravel like it’s free entertainment, he almost feels bad for you. 

Then again, he’s seen you in far more compromising, vulnerable positions than this, and enjoyed it, too. 

Any guilt he might’ve felt – should have felt – was buried a long, long time ago. He’s not all that interested in digging it back up, and even if he wanted to, Chifuyu’s not so sure he could tear himself away.

“Just… go away,” you mutter. “Haven’t you done enough tonight?”

From your vantage point, staring misty eyed at your lap, you miss the way your boyfriend’s expression hardens. Chifuyu doesn’t.

He sighs, long suffering, “You’re being stubborn for the sake of it, you can’t get home on your own. You can barely walk, babe.”

“I’ll manage.” A curt dismissal.

“We can drive her home.”

Chifuyu’s soul ascends from his body, eyes incredulous – horrified – as he turns his head to find Kazutora staring straight at Ginji, eyes dark and glittering, a smile on his lips. 

It isn’t a pleasant expression. 

Your boyfriend rounds on the three of them, straightening his shoulders, shifting to hide you from view as though they’re some sort of a threat and he could in any way actually shield you from it.

(The first part is true, his subconscious reminds him. The second undoubtedly isn’t.)

“I’m sorry, who are you?” he sneers, shooting them a disdainful glower. “Mind your own damn business, we’re having a private conversation here.”

… A super private conversation with half the ER listening in. If he weren’t so on edge, Chifuyu might be tempted to laugh at that. As it is, his expression only tightens. 

Baji, bruised, bloodied and bandaged, matches Kazutora’s grin from his position propped up on the bed. The idiot barely escaped becoming roadkill, yet still manages to look like he wants nothing more than to start beating the shit out of your boyfriend right in the middle of the ER.

This is dangerous territory. His fingers twitch and flex, glancing uneasily between you, your boyfriend and his friends, trying to think of the right words to say to diffuse this situation, to get their attention off of you, you away from that asshole, and–

‘I hate you.’

Chifuyu presses a kiss to your naked shoulder, drawing himself closer to steal your warmth. ‘I know.’

“Oh my god, would you stop, Gin!” you snap, taking all four of them by surprise. Quieter, you add, “They’re Michi’s friends, don’t be rude.” 

That, it seems, is the breaking point for your boyfriend. 

He spares you an incredulous look, and shakes his head with a scoff, “Yeah, whatever. Call me when you wanna act like an adult about this and we can talk.” 

“Run along now,” Kazutora taunts, not quite quick enough to dodge the sharp elbow Chifuyu jabs into his ribs.

With one final huff, Ginji does exactly that. 

The moment his figure disappears through the sliding double doors, you let out a shuddering gasp, crumbling in on yourself as a fresh wave of tears bursts forth. On sheer instinct alone, Chifuyu’s halfway out of his seat before his brain’s registered he’s moved at all – only to stop dead in his tracks when one of the ER docs materialises at your bedside, chart in hand, and introduces herself. 

He swallows, forcing himself back into the uncomfortable plastic chair. 

“Dude, you good?” Again, if he were in a better mood perhaps he’d appreciate the humour in Baji, laid up in a hospital bed, being the one to ask if he’s okay.

“Yeah.”

Nobody says much after that. 

He’s distinctly aware of the curious, borderline concerned glances from his friends – not to mention the ones they share with each other – he’s hard pressed to care when his attention keeps getting pulled over to where you’re getting your exam, every wince and muffled cry of pain like knives under his skin, all too familiar.

You clutch at him with hands like claws, desperate, wailing, crying, a gross mix of snot and tears dribbling down your face as fingers poke and prod at your injured leg.

‘Stop being a dick, we need to set it or it won’t heal properly.’

Another twist of his wrist and you choke out another scream, burying your face in his chest to sob. 

His hand now rubbing soothingly at your calf, Kazutora’s expression turns thoughtful, ‘…Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?’ His eyes meet Chifuyu’s, ‘If it didn’t heal right, I mean.’ 

When they bring you back from getting an x-ray, rather than the bed you were in before, the one opposite them, the nurse wheels you over to the recently vacated bay next to Baji’s.

“So you can wait with your friends,” she says kindly, helping you up onto the bed. 

He waits for you to tell her that they’re not really your friends, that this has all been blown way out of proportion and you barely know them – which is the truth. 

You don’t, simply thanking her with a polite nod, and once she’s out of earshot you collapse back against the pillows with a sigh, “At least the pain meds are kicking in.” You turn your head to look at them, “Thanks, by the way. You don’t actually have to drive me home. You guys did enough getting him out of here.”

Baji opens his mouth–

“Did he do that to you?” Chifuyu cuts in before either of the others have a chance to reply, jerking his chin towards your swollen, most likely broken ankle. “You said…”

Your fault. 

There’s zero moral high ground for him to stand on, he’s perfectly aware of that, but it’s been bugging him ever since those words slipped out. If Chifuyu finds out that asshole actually laid a fucking hand on you, he’s gonna lose it.

If anyone – anyone – hurts you this time around, promises or not, he’s going to return the favour without hesitation; eye for an eye, tooth for fucking tooth.

Nobody touches you. 

For a second you frown at him, confused, and then something must click because you laugh, sad and more than a little sheepish, and shake your head. “No, no, not like that. We were fighting about the whole… sleeping with his ex thing.” His fingers curl into a fist. “I went to storm out of the apartment, he grabbed my wrist to stop me and I tripped. Pretty dumb, right?”

He doesn’t laugh with you. None of them do.

—

Chifuyu gets a text from Takemitchy the next day. Between all the emojis and the exclamation marks, it’s a thank you note. You’re practically a sister to Hina, and now that they’re married, a sister to him, too.

All he did was drive you home, and Takemichi’s acting like he stepped in front of a bullet.

Yeah, Chifuyu’s a real knight in shining armour. 

… A masochist, maybe.

Ignoring the fresh wave of self disgust that settles inside of him, he sends a thumbs up in response. 

What else is he supposed to say; yeah, no worries, it’s the least I could do after making her life a misery the past few goes ‘round?

They’ve all done bad things, he won’t deny that. Killed people. Hurt people. Kazutora stabbed Baji, Draken ended up on death row for murdering Kisaki, in multiple timelines Mikey was either directly or indirectly responsible for all of their deaths. Even Takemitchy lost his way once or twice before he caught up with himself.

And it’s not that he holds that against any of them. Takemitchy certainly doesn’t. Things were fucked up for a long time, and each of them became fucked up people trying to deal with that. 

But in the same way he can’t be around Kisaki without wanting to throttle him, Chifuyu can’t look at you without seeing every awful, horrible act they put you through play out in his head like a movie that won’t turn off. Rewriting the timeline doesn’t erase that. It doesn’t absolve him of the guilt.

So he stays away. Keeps Baji and Kazutora away. 

Or tries to, at least.

A few hours after Takemichi’s text, his phone lights up again, vibrating to announce a new message, this time from a number he doesn’t recognise. 

Hey, I got your number from Michi! Hope you don’t mind–

There’s more, he doesn’t read the rest. Deletes the message, switches his phone to do not disturb and shoves it back into the pocket of his jeans, forcing himself to focus on the inventory lists in front of him and not the pounding in his chest. 

Chifuyu’s trying, he’s trying so fucking hard. You’re not making this any easier.

—

A week and a half later, the weather outside is miserable and the store is quiet when, a little before closing, the bell above the door rings, announcing a customer. 

Baji with his busted arm sits at the counter, Kazutora busy with restocking the shelves, so Chifuyu, out the back working through the month's expenses and wondering (not for the first time) why he hasn’t yet hired an accountant to do this for him, ignores it.

At least until he hears an all too familiar sound trickling through the door, one that sends a pang straight to his heart. 

Your laugh.

Unmistakable, unforgettable, Chifuyu’s mind goes blank and like a dog with a scent he’s out, weaving his way to the front of the store, chasing after it. He finds you, moon boot and all, leaning up against the front counter, laughing at something Baji’s said.

The image of you, relaxed, perfectly at ease, happier than he’s seen you for a while – the wedding included – does a funny thing to his insides. And then you turn to face him, your countenance brightens and for a good few seconds he forgets how to breathe.

You’ve always been beautiful to him – smiling, though, it’s a gut punch. Palms sweaty, heart racing, he’s struck dumb. 

“Chifuyu!”

‘Fuyu–Fuyu, please–N-ugh!’

‘Don’t know what you’re begging him for, princess. Chifuyu’s not gonna help you.’ 

Baji’s hand curls through your hair, dragging your torso up to meet his bare, sweat slicked chest. Dark eyes glint, his tongue drags along your neck, teeth nipping at your earlobe, causing you to whimper. 

He laughs meanly, ‘He’s enjoying this too much.’

“You’re here,” he replies lamely, glancing to his left to find Kazutora watching him with thinly veiled amusement. 

You take it in stride, “Well yeah, you never replied to my message, so I had to ask Hina for the address. You’re a difficult guy to get a hold of.” 

The teasing lilt in your voice tells him you’re only joking, his cheeks flush anyway.

“How’s the ankle?” he asks instead.

“Better! Still a pain, but you know, it could’ve been worse. I can walk… kinda. More of a hobble, I guess.”

“Least you can take yours off when you’re showering,” Baji grumbles from behind the counter.

You laugh, “True.” To Chifuyu, you add, “I wanted some stuff for Bean, and since you never replied to my message, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone and swing by.”

“Bean?” Kazutora asks, completely abandoning all pretence of working to draw closer and join in on the conversation.

“My kitten. She’s a little terror.” 

… You used to play with the strays Kazutora brought home, he remembers that. Talked to them in that soft baby voice, coaxing them closer for pats and treats. Let them curl up and fall asleep on your lap when you were reading or watching tv. 

It was almost definitely an act of petty defiance, showering the felines in love and affection all the while ignoring them as much as they’d allow. Hard to take it to heart, though, when watching you fawn over them was pretty much the cutest thing he’d ever seen. 

“Anyway, there’s this new noodle bar that’s opened up down the road. You guys are almost finished up, right? Let me have a look around for a few things for Bean, you can close up and we’ll go. My treat.”

He arches an eyebrow, “Because we drove you home?”

“Because you didn’t have to drive me home, or stand up to Ginji, or keep me company in the first place,” you counter, still with that same open earnestness, that soft expression that has his insides all tied up in knots. “And because I want to. Are you really going to turn down a free meal?”

The universe is fucking with him. Punishing him, maybe. 

And it’d be so, so easy to blame you for it – you’re like one of those sad, beaten down dogs that keeps returning to its master no matter how many times they’re kicked – except there’s no version of this where he’s the good guy, and you don’t remember anything different. 

Chifuyu’s expression shifts into a paper thin smile. “Take your time looking around,” he tells you. “But dinner… It was just a lift, no need to make a big deal out of it. We’re good.” 

“Oh, yeah– no, of course! I um, I won’t keep you guys long.”

It’s Kazutora, watching the exchange with that same considering look he’d worn back at the wedding, who cuts in, saving Chifuyu from responding. “No rush, take as long as you want.”

Your eyes flicker back to Chifuyu, hesitant now, unsure. Still, you paper over that disappointment, your expression not quite as bright as the one before, but genuine all the same. “Thanks, I mean it. And… if you change your mind about dinner,” you shrug easily, “the offer’s open.”

He only nods, turning sharply on his heel to leave before you can get another word in. 

Before you can convince him that dinner is in any way a good idea. 

You shouldn’t make him feel like this – not guilty. No, he’d take the guilt in heaping droves, he certainly deserves it. You make him feel all off kilter, like his heart’s beating out of sync, and his whole body’s wired wrong. 

You stick in his head, refusing to budge. To give him a minute’s fucking peace.

And as he makes it back into the sanctuary of his office, firmly shutting the door behind him and falling back against it with an unsteady breath out, Chifuyu wonders if this isn’t your own brand personal of torture. 

If it is, it’s sure as hell working. 

—

Fingers wind into your hair, Chifuyu shudders, groaning appreciatively at the sight before him. 

Your eyes are big, swimming with desperate, pretty tears as you choke and gag around the cock stuffing your face. For him it’s heaven – the plush, wet heat of your mouth, the tiny spasms of your throat closing around him when he pushes in deeper.

He curses, moaning louder, dragging your face to his pelvis and holding it there, rutting his hips faster, fucking your face as you beat and claw at his thighs, unable to breathe. That blistering thread of pleasure deep in his core pulls taut–

Chifuyu’s eyes snap open, heart pounding, and he gasps for air. In his boxers, his cock twitches insistently, half hard and aching, the phantom sensation of your lips wrapped around it too fresh to ignore. 

If he had a shred of decency left in him, he’d go and take a cold shower. If he were more awake, if it weren’t the dead of the night, if his bed wasn’t so comfortable, and the memory of you swallowing him down any easier to banish.

His hand snakes down into his boxers, and as he bites down on his bottom lip to muffle any noise and takes himself in hand, rubbing the now throbbing length, he tries not to think about how disgusted you’d be if you could see him now. 

—

You’re at Takemichi’s birthday, chatting animatedly with Pah’s girlfriend when he arrives. You brighten when you see him though, and wave. Half heartedly, he returns it, then spends the rest of the night doing his utmost to avoid you.

Which in no way deters the birthday boy himself from plopping down beside him, beer in hand, and awkwardly attempting to set you two up. 

“She’s great! And y’know, she’s pretty and super nice. And um, she broke up with that Ginji guy so she’s single right now as well.”

He bites back an bitter laugh, and risks another glance your way. 

A few days later, Chifuyu runs into said ex on his way home from a late night beer and snack run. The brunet doesn’t notice him, minding his own business up ahead on the sidewalk. 

There’s nothing in particular that sets him off. He’s not even sure it was a conscious decision. One minute they’re walking, the next they’re down an alleyway out of sight and he’s on top of Ginji, beating the absolute shit out of him.

And he can’t stop.

His fists are slick with blood, knuckles split, and the wet thwacking of flesh hitting flesh drowns out the sound of his own haggard breath, the yelps that turn into grunts and groans, and then garbled nothings.

In his head, the images shift, coming one after the other, relentless–

You, flinching away from his touch, trying in vain to hide your tears.

Baji, panting, balls deep inside of you, forcing your lips together in a violent kiss. 

The sick, soft delight playing in Kazutora’s eyes, his fingers tracing idle patterns into your shoulder as you sleep. ‘She’s perfect, isn’t she?’

He can’t stop.

He can’t stop.

—

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Chifuyu blinks, jerking back to the present in time to realise that the shelf he’s been re-stocking is already full, and he’s been standing there mindlessly trying to shove extra products into a space they physically won’t fit for god only knows how long. 

He shakes his head, clearing his throat and glances at Baji. “Nothing, it’s– I’m fine.”

From the disbelieving look on his face, the single raised eyebrow, he can tell Baji doesn’t buy it. Chifuyu can’t blame him, really – it’s been days of this, operating on some weird, malfunctioning autopilot, pretending that everything’s a-okay when he hasn’t slept and barely eats. He can’t close his eyes without seeing you.

He’d honestly be more surprised if his friends hadn’t noticed anything amiss. 

“I’m good,” he repeats, forcing a tight smile. 

Is this what it feels like to lose his mind?

—

When Takemichi calls him late one night a few days later, he’s expecting some sort of well intentioned – albeit clumsy and heavy-handed – attempt at an intervention.

‘We’re worried, you’ve been acting kinda… strange lately. You know you can always talk to us, right?’

He’d have to be blind to miss the shared looks between Baji and Kazutora at work. More than once he’d walked in on the two of them whispering between themselves, only for them to separate and act completely oblivious the second they noticed him. 

Chifuyu wouldn’t put past either one of them to confide in Michi about it, either. 

As it turns out, he’s wrong.

The day of your funeral, it rains all day. Not a light drizzle either; black skies and rumbling thunder, a deluge that won’t let up. It feels fitting.

Chifuyu puts on a suit, drives with Baji and Kazutora to join Takemichi and their friends at the shrine. Neither one of them ask why he’s adamant on going to the funeral of a girl he barely knew.

They don’t say much of anything at all. 

An older couple is standing by the doors when they arrive, greeting the mourners as they enter. It takes him a second to realise that they must be your parents. Your mother cries quietly, your father shaking hands and thanking them in a stiff, thick voice for coming.

Once inside, he spots Hinata in her kimono first, crying her eyes out on a misty eyed Michi’s shoulder, Emma standing to her left, not faring much better. But the others are there too, dotted throughout the room; Draken, Mikey, Pah and Pe-yan. Mitsuya with his sisters, Hakkai with his. 

Whether they’re here for you or in support of Hinata and Takemichi, he doesn’t know, nor can he muster the energy to care. 

Chifuyu says little the entire time, jaw set, bloodshot eyes rimmed in red, and the only thing he can focus on throughout the service – the only thing keeping him together – is the deathly tight grip Baji keeps on his shoulder and Kazutora’s hand locked around his. 

A mugging gone wrong. What kind of sick fucking joke is that?

They put you through hell, you suffered and suffered and suffered, and he fixed it. He did everything right this time; kept his distance and nearly drove himself insane, and for what?

You were supposed to have some kind of a future.

If you weren’t with them, then you were supposed to be happy. 

Instead you’re gone, and Chifuyu can’t feel anything. 

There’s just… nothing. A gaping, jagged hole in his chest, and he realises that he was wrong earlier. Losing his mind wasn’t forcing himself to give you up and stay away, losing his mind is staring at the coffin holding your dead body.

—

Takemitchy, tipsy and loose-lipped, told him once about how he’d gained the time leaping ability. How Shin had, before him. 

—

A fist pounds at the door, “Oi, hurry up. We’re gonna be late!”

Chifuyu lets out a breathless laugh. 

His shirt’s rumpled, tie askew, the waistcoat and jacket laid out on the bed in preparation for today carelessly shoved aside, and as for his pants – they’re unbuckled and hanging from his thighs.

His hips snap forward, drawing a sharp squeal from you, which he’s quick to soothe with another feverish kiss. “Shh, almost–” he pants, licking his lips, “almost there.” 

And true to his word, he picks up the pace, moaning at the way your tight little pussy clenches reflexively around him, spasming under the relentless barrage of his cock stuffing you full, molding your insides to the shape of him. 

You’re probably still sore and oversensitive from earlier. They hadn’t been gentle, Tora spreading your legs and shoving his face between your thighs before you’d even woken up, Baji quick to join in on the fun. You’d whined and sniffled and pleaded, tearfully begging for them to stop, but you always look so cute like that, shuddering and wrecked, cumming for them in a fucked out stupor over and over.

He knows they should treat you better, take a little more care with you – at least with stuff like this. Right now, though, it’s impossible to think of anything but chasing his own pleasure, fucking you deeper, faster, the sheer bliss of you milking every last drop of cum from his cock while he groans out your name.

He’ll make it up to you later. 

Your nails rake down his back, harsh enough to draw blood if not for his shirt, and he hisses in pleasure. Your tears, the breathless pleas, even the weak struggles beneath him, none of it breaks through that haze, he’s wholly lost to the pleasure of your cunt. His grip on you tightens, drawing you closer, your naked, heaving tits pressed against his chest. He can feel your racing heart pounding. 

His head tips back, mouth falling open. The rhythm of the onslaught gives way to urgency, hips faltering, punching himself deeper in short, rabbitting paps.

You hide your face in his shoulder, clinging to him, choking back a sob–

“Fuyu! For fuck’s sake, if you don’t hurry the hell up and finish, we’re going to miss the damn wedding!” Baji snarls through the door.

You tense, toes curling, and squeeze so tightly around his cock that Chifuyu loses control entirely, pleasure exploding like stars behind his eyes, ripping through him violently as spurts of hot, thick cum splatter your insides. His hips rock into you, and he murmurs your name in a contented sigh, riding out his orgasm with a few last, lazy thrusts.

When the wave eventually recedes and he catches his breath, he carefully eases his cock free, lowers you down to the bed – paying no mind to the cum that dribbles from your abused cunt onto the bedsheets below – and presses an affectionate kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re so good to us,” he mumbles, collapsing down beside you. 

You stiffen at the words. Fat, glistening tears well in your eyes and spill silently down your lashes. Gently, he thumbs them away, but you don’t say anything.

You rarely do these days, if you can help it. 

If he weren’t in such a rush, he’d take the time to clean you up, get you some water. Instead, he has to make do with a quick kiss, forcing himself to get up and fix his appearance, tucking his spent cock back into his pants.

Takemitchy’ll almost definitely have a meltdown if they’re not at the venue soon. 

Racing around the room, gathering up his clothes and throwing them on, he keeps a half an eye on you. You don’t move beyond a soft, shaking tremble, your quiet sobs tugging at his heartstrings. 

This is better than the alternative, though.

You might not see that yet, but that doesn’t make it any less true. And they love you. He loves you. If it keeps you alive and safe and with them, he won’t apologise for it.

The simple truth of it is he, Baji and Kazutora – they can’t survive without you, and you can’t survive without them.