"an Inconvenient Attachment"
"an inconvenient attachment"
Pairing: sae x fem!reader Genre: fluff with smut, fwb to lovers, minors dni! Summary: what you and sae have is completely casual— or at least it’s supposed to be. he’s fine with it at first, until he starts to realize how much he actually likes being around you. now he’s starting to wonder if casual is enough. WC: 20k+ (haha, i’m in danger) Warnings: nsfw, some pwp (mostly plot though), alcohol, casual/no strings sex (until it isn’t 😉), car sex, fingering, light choking, reader and sae are in their mid-20s, reader is also incredibly forward and kind of shameless lmao, pro!athlete sae, big time jealousy, misunderstandings, lots of pining but also lots of denial, sae being annoying and bad at feelings but also very much into you A/N: watched bluelock for the first time this past year and immediately fell victim to the itoshi brothers. consider this an ode to my suffering <3 -Dawn
Sae doesn’t really know what the two of you are to each other.
He knows you hate driving in the rain and love reading at the park, just like he knows how you take your coffee and what your voice sounds like when you first wake up in the morning, all sleepy and soft.
He also knows what you look like tangled in the sheets of his bed, just like he knows how to make you fall apart with his mouth and hands and tongue. He takes pleasure in leaving you bleary-eyed and breathless, in watching you grip at his sheets and drag your nails across his skin as you say his name again and again.
But when it comes to your current relationship, to what the two of you actually mean to each other? Sae has no idea. You’ve never bothered to put a label on it. He figures you’ve never felt the need to, even though normally you’re the kind of person who labels everything, from the colorful tabs in your planner to the glass containers in your pantry.
Not that Sae has any room to judge. He hasn’t made much of an effort to define things between you, either. He’s not one for titles or attachments, least of all romantic ones. He never has been, and that’s something he made clear to you from the beginning, long before the two of you ever shared a bed and started whatever the hell this thing is that exists between you now.
If he’s being honest, Sae didn’t really think much of you at first. He remembers meeting you, completely against his will, at a party he never wanted to attend in the first place, one that his teammates insisted on dragging him to.
In the beginning, you were just another face in the crowd, the best friend of Aina, Oliver’s notorious on-again, off-again girlfriend.
Sae never planned on seeing you again, much less actually getting to know you. In fact, he was fully content to forget you completely, but he couldn’t. And it wasn’t because he had a change of heart or because he was particularly interested in you, but because you made it practically impossible to ignore you.
You, with your ridiculous laugh and your know-it-all demeanor and your unreasonably animated way of talking. It’s no surprise that you were an instant hit amongst his teammates. They all took to you right away, captivated by your quick comebacks and witty humor, by your easy confidence and natural charm.
And though Sae will never say it out loud, he could admit, even back then, that he understood the appeal, at least in a general sense. You’re smart and funny, not to mention daring and lively, with the kind of effortless charisma that makes everyone want to be around you.
You laugh at his dry humor and unapologetic bluntness, but you also don’t hesitate to call him out when he’s being a dick. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re completely gorgeous, either, a vision in smooth satin and shimmery lip gloss whenever he sees you on nights when his teammates actually manage to bully him out of his apartment.
Soon you’re everywhere, laughing during game nights at Oliver’s place and rolling your eyes in the background of Shidou’s Instagram stories. Sae doesn’t accept their invitations to go out too often, but when he does, you’re always there, just as much a part of the group as everyone else is— even more than Sae is, most of the time.
You cheer him and the rest of the team on at games, send him new recipes to try and stupid videos he only sometimes replies to.
And inconveniently, inevitably, you start to grow on him.
Then one night, against his better judgment, he offers to drive you home from the bar, and to his surprise, you accept.
Sae’s not entirely sure why he does it. After all, it’s unlike him to inconvenience himself or go out of his way for the sake of others. But then he remembers the cheeky way you were acting with him earlier and decides it’s worth it, if only to see what you’ll do.
There’s always been a certain kind of tension between you and Sae, an unspoken chemistry neither of you has ever been able to replicate with anyone else. He’s never acted on it, of course. He’s never felt the need to, until now.
You’ve been flirting with him even more than usual tonight, brushing your hand against his arm and leaning in close to whisper in his ear. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.
Sae has always appreciated how forward you are, how honest. You’re the kind of person who always speaks your mind, who never hesitates to go after what you want. It’s part of what makes him respect you so much.
It’s also why he doesn’t bother to stop you. Why he doesn’t push you away from him, no matter how close you get or how bold your hands become. It does something to him, he realizes, having you touch him so casually. Makes him possessive in a way he never expected he’d be over anyone, least of all you.
Still, he doesn’t take it as anything more than what it is. You’re always like this, all playful and coy, especially after you've had a shot or two. He knows better than to think it means anything. He takes it upon himself to drive you home anyway, the idea of you being so casual and touchy with any of his other teammates leaving a sour taste in his mouth.
You look unfairly beautiful sitting in the passenger seat of his car, all smooth skin and smokey eyes, jacket sliding halfway off your shoulders as you wave your hands around and tell a story he’s only half-listening to. You’re absolutely stunning and therefore annoyingly distracting, not that he’ll ever grant you the satisfaction of telling you that himself.
The lot behind your building is quiet when he pulls his car in, empty. You unbuckle your seatbelt and thank him for driving you home, but make no move to leave.
Sae notices but doesn’t call you out on it, dismissing your gratitude with his usual impassiveness. He also doesn’t stop you when you reach out to touch him. Your fingers brush against his collar, smoothing over the fabric on his shoulder.
He has makeup on his shirt, you tell him. It’s yours, of course, the shade of the smudge an identical match to the color staining your lips. It must’ve happened when you leaned in to talk to him earlier.
Sae isn’t surprised. You’re the only person he lets be that close to him, the only person he wants that close. And right now, you’re smiling like you already know, like you revel in it.
“Sorry about that,” you say, without an ounce of guilt in your voice, dragging your nail over the stain.
Sae watches the way you watch him, the way your eyes drift down to stare at his lips. There’s something wanting and possessive in your gaze, something he thinks has been there for a while now. “No, you’re not.”
“You’re right.” The laugh you give is shameless, your smile brazen as you move your hand from his shoulder to his chest, fingertips skimming against the buttons of his shirt. “I’m not.”
You kiss him, then, a heated and hungry thing as bold and unapologetic as you are. He surprises himself by letting you, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and dragging your bottom lip between his teeth, a calloused hand moving up to cradle your jaw.
Soon you’re kicking off your heels and shrugging off your jacket, tossing it blindly into the backseat and climbing over the center console. You settle into his lap like you belong there, straddling his thighs with your bare knees. He trails his lips along your throat and chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your heated skin and pulling down the front of your dress so he can reach more of you.
His hands push the skirt of your dress up and over your hips, palms smoothing over your skin, and you tug at his hair, pressing your body firmly against his. The movement is exactly what you both need, your hips grinding into his lap.
You both groan when the head of his cock catches against your clothed center. You roll your hips into his again, chasing the friction, his grip on your hips turning bruising.
Sae presses a hand between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, just enough to run a finger along your slit and gather the wetness there. He lets out a strained curse and drags his teeth along your throat when he feels how warm and wanting you already are, all because of him.
That’s all the convincing he needs to fuck you open with his fingers, while you grind yourself down against his hand, making breathy little sounds in his ear that he decides he wants to hear more of. You undo the buttons of his shirt and tear the material open, hands roaming over his chest as much as the limited space will allow.
It’s not long after that you decide you want more, undoing the button of his pants and yanking down his zipper with little restraint. He mutters something about you being an impatient brat under his breath, but he doesn't stop you.
Instead, he lets you pull his leaking cock out and wrap your hand around his shaft. He bites back a groan as you squeeze him at the base and move your hand up and down in slow, even strokes, smearing precum along the length of him.
You surge forward to kiss him again, and it’s all Sae can do to meet you halfway, curling his fingers inside of you and making you gasp against his lips. You cling to his shoulders and whisper into his ear, telling him how good he feels, how badly you want him inside of you— all of him, this time, not just his fingers.
Your words go straight to his already painfully hard cock, making him buck up into your hand and reach out blindly for the condoms he keeps in his car. You end up beating him to it, fumbling for only a moment before pulling one out of your purse and tearing the packet open with your teeth.
You don’t waste any more time after that, rolling the condom down over his length while Sae slips his fingers out of you and plants his hands on either side of your waist. You line him up with your entrance and sink yourself onto him with a gasp, hips pressing flush against his as you moan and dig your nails into his skin. He tightens his grip on your waist and muffles his own moan against your lips, the kiss he presses to your mouth all tongue and teeth.
You ride him, head thrown back and lips parted, while he leans back to watch you with half-lidded eyes, taking in the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock and pushing his hips up to meet yours.
You look absolutely breathtaking, hips rolling and circling as you gasp out his name and tell him how deep he is and how good he’s making you feel. One of his hands presses against your throat while the other squeezes at your hip, helping you lift yourself up and sink back down to take more of him.
With his lips mouthing at your neck and his thumb drifting down to rub circles into your clit, it isn’t long before you find yourself tipping over the edge. He follows you almost immediately after, spurred on by the scrape of your nails against his scalp and the tightening of your walls around him.
You’re both panting when it’s over, foreheads pressed together and hearts racing as you slump against one another and try to catch your breath. You recover faster than he does and press a parting kiss to his lips that feels almost too sweet after what you’ve just done, climbing off his lap and over the console on shaky legs.
You almost slip when you do, his hand shooting out to steady you at the last second. You laugh while he rolls his eyes and tells you to be more careful, keeping his hand on your hip until finally you settle back safely into the passenger seat.
You’re both quiet as you set to work on fixing your clothing and cleaning yourselves up, redoing zippers and clasping buttons in an effort to make yourselves look presentable again.
Sae finds himself grateful for the silence. It gives him the chance to process exactly what’s just happened between you, and —more importantly— to decide what’s going to happen after.
The sex was good, obviously. Better than good. The best he’s had in a while, maybe even the best he’s had ever— though he thinks he’d rather die than be caught saying any of that out loud. He imagines it must’ve been the same for you, if the way you moaned his name and fell apart around him are anything to go by.
Still, Sae knows himself, which is why he knows better than to allow it to mean anything. He doesn’t need a relationship right now, nor does he particularly want one. He likes you well enough, in a way that makes him view you as slightly less irritating than he does everyone else— but wanting you and wanting to be with you are two very different things.
And at this point in his life, Sae doesn’t want to actually be with anyone, not even you. He doesn’t have the time for it, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have the patience.
Sure, he’s dated before, but it was never anything serious. Never anything real. All of his previous relationships —if one could even call them that— were just for show, nothing more than publicity stunts orchestrated by his PR team with models and socialites he’s never really cared about.
Most of them understood the arrangement quite well, knowing it wouldn’t last. Some of them didn’t and tried to make it into something more, but it’s never worked. Sae’s never allowed it. As a result, he’s become an expert at shutting people down, at crushing their hopes of receiving anything more than what he’s willing to give them.
He tells you as much after you’re both dressed again, fully prepared to disappoint you and the hopes you’ve no doubt allowed to build freely inside your head. He’s not cruel enough to say it in a way that hurts you —at least not on purpose— but he wants to be honest. The last thing he needs is for you to get the wrong idea and start thinking that this is going to change anything between you.
“You should know,” he starts, serious and stoic as ever, “I’m not looking for a relationship. The only thing I’m interested in right now is soccer.”
He pauses, bracing himself for your reaction, for the moment when his words finally sink in and you realize that he has no intention of taking this any further. He watches your face carefully, mentally preparing himself for what he knows is going to be the inevitable fallout.
He’s spent enough time with you by now to know you’re not really the crying type, so he’s comfortable with knowing that he at least won’t see any tears. He does, however, expect some swearing on your part, maybe even a little bit of yelling, just enough to let him know that you think he’s an asshole.
To Sae’s surprise, none of that happens. There’s no anger, no confrontation, no fallout. Instead of shouting at him and telling him to go fuck himself, the way he initially expected you to, you smile at him and slip the straps of your dress back up over your shoulders, nodding like this is exactly what you were expecting, like you couldn’t agree more.
“Yeah, I figured as much,” you say, laughing lightly, casually, as you finish readjusting the rest of your clothing. “Your emotional unavailability kind of gave it away. Well, that and your apathy, though I’m starting to think the latter is less of a relationship deterrent and more of just you being yourself.”
You aren’t wrong, of course, but the bluntness of your words still makes him scowl, which in turn just makes you laugh even more.
“Hey, I never said I didn’t like it.” You slip your heels on your feet and lean down to secure the straps, though not before sending him a teasing grin from over your shoulder. “I’ll have you know, emotionally unavailable and apathetic is exactly my type. Helps if they have pretty eyes and great hair, too.”
Predictably, Sae ignores your blatant flirting in favor of rolling his eyes. Still, he doesn’t hesitate to help when he sees you struggling to retrieve your jacket from the backseat, reaching behind him to grab it and offering it to you with ease.
“Seems like an easy way to get yourself hurt,” he deadpans, before you get the chance to thank him.
“You’re such a pessimist, Sae.” You roll your eyes at his response, but the smile you give as you take your jacket from him is grateful and genuine. “My point is, if you’re worried about me reading into things, don’t be. I’m not expecting anything from you. If we’re being honest, I’m not really looking for anything serious right now, either.”
He knows you mean it —you’re too honest not to— but he raises an eyebrow at you, anyway, examining you carefully for even the slightest hint of doubt.
“So you’re really okay with things staying the same between us?”
“Of course I am. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I wasn’t. But you have my number if you ever want to do this again.”
You gather the rest of your things before leaning over and pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. It’s light and offhanded, free of any pressure or expectations. Then you smile at him, lifting your hand to give a little wave.
“I’ll see you later, Sae.”
You leave his car with that smile still on your face and your purse in your hand. He watches you go, not taking his eyes off of you until you make it inside your building. You don’t turn back to look at him once.
And though he tries not to —though he likes to believe he’s above such baseless, lukewarm desires— he thinks about your offer on the way home.
It doesn’t take him long to make up his mind.
He texts you three days later. The messages are short and to the point —boring, he knows you’d call them— just a simple ’hey’ followed by a blunt ’wanna come over?’ that he regrets sending almost immediately after it goes through, mostly because he knows you’re never going to let him live it down.
You don’t disappoint, replying back a few minutes later with a ’damn already??’ and an ’it was that good huh 😏😌🤪’ that he pointedly ignores. He threatens to block you, you laugh at the message, and less than an hour later, you’re at his door.
This time, Sae’s the one who kisses you first, easing you onto his bed and pushing your thighs apart so he can slot himself between them. His lips trail down your neck, his teeth nipping at your throat. His hands are everywhere, roaming over your body and helping you slip out of your clothes until you’re completely bare beneath him.
He makes you cum twice with his mouth, another time with his fingers— and only then does he finally slide himself into you, hands gripping your thighs and chest pressing into yours.
Practice was cut short today in favor of a press conference Sae couldn’t have cared less about, so he has a lot of pent-up energy, which he immediately sets on using to throw your legs over his shoulders and thoroughly fuck you into his mattress.
You don’t complain about it, either, too lost in the pleasure of it all to scold him for the tight grip he has on your hips or the way he’s nearly folding you in half beneath him. You even make a joke about it afterwards, muttering something about how they should cancel his practices more often.
“But only on the weekends,” you add seriously, trying to catch your breath. “The last thing I need is my co-workers watching me wobble into my office because of it.”
Sae actually laughs, though he tries not to. You beam at the sound, only to end up flipping him off moments later, when you rise on trembling legs in search of your clothes and catch him smirking knowingly at you.
And it’s simple, he thinks, doing this with you. Simple and comfortable and not the least bit complicated, which is exactly how he likes it.
You must feel the same way, because the next time it happens, you’re the one who calls first, inviting him up to your apartment and latching your lips to his neck before he’s even fully through the door.
You never really talk about it, nor do you establish any real boundaries beyond that initial conversation you had that first night in his car, but Sae figures you don’t really need to. It goes without saying that this thing between you is completely casual, just a way to satisfy your physical needs and work off some stress whenever you both need it.
Neither of you wants an actual relationship, but that doesn’t mean you’re opposed to sleeping together every now and then, especially when the sex is as good as it’s been. So you keep at it, meeting up whenever you have some free time and fucking until you’ve both had your fill, all without ever expecting anything more.
Sae doesn’t tell anyone about your arrangement. Neither do you. You both agree it’s easier that way, in the name of keeping things smooth and uncomplicated.
He’s not ashamed of what the two of you are doing —he knows you aren’t, either— but neither one of you wants the headache of having to explain it to the well-intentioned but ultimately chronic meddlers you call your friends. So you keep it to yourselves, treating each other the same way you normally would without any extra consideration or kindness.
You both get really good at it, too, maintaining your composure no matter how many stupid and suggestive comments Shidou and Oliver make about the mystery girl he’s always texting, or how often Aina bugs you to show her a picture of the guy she swears has got you dickmatized.
Sae’s sure they have their suspicions, but he knows that he isn’t among them. As far as everyone else is concerned, you and him are just friends, even if you do have a habit of getting a little handsy whenever you think no one is looking.
It helps that you’ve been shamelessly flirting with him since the day you met, so no one ever bats an eye when they see you brushing your hand against his chest or leaning in close to whisper in his ear. Everyone just assumes that it’s you being your normal, bold and affectionate self, and that Sae —moody, stoic, emotionless Sae— will brush it off and ignore you the way he always does.
They have no idea that as soon as you’re alone, the exact opposite happens. That he’s trailing his lips along your neck and sliding his hands up your skirt, while you lock your legs around his waist and pull him in closer, the way you’ve been doing for weeks now.
Sae’s honestly a little surprised no one’s figured it out yet. More than that, though, he’s shocked that he’s still hooking up with you at all.
It’s not like him to stick with someone for so long, especially without his manager breathing down his neck to keep it up for the publicity. He thought your arrangement would last a week, maybe two weeks, tops— but here you both are, still going nearly two months later, with no signs of stopping anytime soon.
He was so sure he’d be bored of it by now, but he isn’t. He can’t be, not with you. You’re too good at distracting him. You’re even better at making him trust you.
And the more time he spends with you, the more he realizes just how easy it is to be around you.
The thing about Sae is that he’s never really been the kind of person who has a lot of friends. He has his teammates and his manager, his parents and sometimes his brother, but he’s never had someone who wasn’t obligated to be around him. Never someone who didn’t expect anything of him.
You, though— you spend time with him on purpose, not because of anything he can give you. Even if this thing between you ends tomorrow, Sae knows it wouldn’t change anything.
You’d still be there, still without expecting anything, because that’s just who you are. Because for some odd reason, you actually like being around him, despite his attitude and his indifference, despite all the things his teammates and the media are always giving him shit for.
He thinks you’ve always liked being around him, even before you started sleeping together. He knows he doesn’t make it easy, but you’re patient with him despite that, giving him space when he needs it and pushing him when he doesn’t.
And he’ll never say it out loud, but the truth is, he likes being around you, too. Almost enough to make him forget that this thing you have is only temporary.
Almost.
The first time you stay the night happens a week later.
You’re both in his bed, all bare skin and tangled sheets as you come down from your respective highs and try to catch your breath. Outside his penthouse, the rain drones on, quieting the city below you into a nearly imperceptible hum.
It’s well past midnight, so late that it’s early, and sure, Sae might be an asshole— but he’s not cruel enough to make you drive home in the rain, especially when he knows how much you hate it.
“You can sleep here if you want,” he says, without thinking much of it, right as you sit up to start looking for your clothes.
Understandably, the offer catches you off guard. Even in the dark, Sae can see the way you turn back and blink owlishly at him, eyebrows raised, like it’s the last thing you expected him to say.
It’s kind of annoying, honestly, the way you’re looking at him right now. He knows he’s far from being the most considerate person in your life, but the way you’re gawking at him like he’s grown a second head feels a little dramatic.
Not that he can really blame you for being surprised. You’ve been hooking up almost daily for two months now, but not once during that time have either of you ever spent the night at the other’s place.
Something about it feels different. More intimate, somehow, like it’s crossing a line that’s supposed to be there, if only the two of you had bothered to draw it in the first place.
Sae realizes it at the same time you do and finds himself regretting making the offer at all. He’s accepted the fact that the two of you are friends —albeit begrudgingly— but the last thing he wants is for you to think he meant anything by it.
“Or don’t,” he adds quickly, careful to keep his tone as blank and detached as possible. “It’s up to you. I don’t really care either way.”
From the corner of his eye, he watches you spare a glance at the window. The rain is still going, pouring unforgivingly against the glass, and it only seems to be getting worse.
The rumble of thunder that follows shortly after is enough to convince you to accept his offer. You shrug, murmuring a quiet thanks before laying back down and making yourself comfortable next to him.
Predictably, he says nothing in response to your gratitude. He moves over to give you some space and lets you tuck yourself back under the blanket, shutting his eyes as he settles onto his back.
When he feels your gaze on him moments later, he frowns, cracking an eye open to look at you. Sure enough, you’re staring right at him, a knowing, borderline smug smile on your face that lets him know you’re going to be completely insufferable about this.
“Don’t,” he warns, before you can even get a word out.
You have the audacity to look offended. “Wha— I haven’t even said anything yet!”
“Didn’t have to. Your face is saying plenty.”
He throws an arm over his eyes and does his best to ignore you, hoping you’ll get bored enough with his inattention to let the whole thing go.
(You don’t, of course, but he supposes you wouldn’t be you if you did.)
In the end, it’s Sae who gives in first, uncovering his eyes against his better judgment and turning to face you with a scowl.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you’re quick to reply, even as that smug little smile of yours curls into a grin. “I’m just— I’m surprised you offered to let me stay, is all. It’s not what I was expecting.”
“Yeah, well, it was either that or wake up tomorrow to a ten-minute voice note complaining about how shitty your drive home was and how close you were to death.” He turns on his side, shifting so he can face you fully. “I figured if I was going to be annoyed anyway, I might as well get it out of the way now.”
That earns him a smack to the shoulder, along with a scowl meant to convey how unamused you are with his words. He can only hope you’re too busy rolling your eyes to catch the way the corners of his lips twitch upwards, barely suppressing a smile.
“You’re a dick. And for the record, if I did decide to grace you with one of my exciting and wonderfully detailed voice notes, it would’ve been five, maybe six minutes, max.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing you, and you sigh in defeat, relenting.
“Okay, fine, six and a half, but can you blame me? I hate driving in the rain. It’s scary and disorienting, and I always get paranoid that I’m gonna—”
“Spin out and end up on the side of the road,” Sae says, at the exact same time you do, making your eyes widen. “I know. I remember.”
And the crazy part is, he does. He remembers because he knows you, probably better than he knows anybody else, and it’s only now when he’s lying here with you, practically nose-to-nose in the dark, that he realizes just how much.
He’s not sure how or when it happened, but it did. And now, he knows you. He really, really knows you, enough to accept your good-natured teasing and playful smugness, enough to consider your comfort and offer you a place in his bed.
And honestly? He has no idea how the hell he’s supposed to feel about that, so he ignores it entirely, the same way he ignored how his stomach fluttered and his chest warmed when you showed up with a bag of groceries and made him dinner earlier, for no discernable reason other than the fact that you wanted to spend time with him.
His only consolation is that you seem to be as surprised by it as he is. He watches as you blink at him in the dark, wide-eyed and a little stunned, like you’re seeing him for the first time.
Then you smile at him, soft and sweet, and Sae feels something in his stomach shift all over again, something warm and unfamiliar he can’t name and honestly doesn’t think he wants to.
“And here I thought sleepovers were against our unofficial rules,” you tease, nudging his leg with your own. “You getting soft on me, Itoshi?”
“You wish,” he denies, scoffing for good measure. “This is a one-time thing. I’ll be back to my usual asshole self in the morning.”
“Bummer.” You nuzzle your face into the pillow beneath your head, stifling a yawn that betrays how tired you really are. “I kind of like you like this.”
“You like me naked and annoyed?”
“No, dummy. I meant sweet and concerned. It’s a surprisingly good look on you. A rare one, but a good one.” You close your eyes, lips curling into a playful smile. “Naked’s a pretty close second, though.”
In response, he flicks your forehead with his thumb and forefinger. You make a noise of protest but keep your eyes shut, swatting blindly at his hand, and for that, he finds himself grateful. He doesn’t think he’ll ever live it down if you catch the way his lips twitch into a smile.
“Just shut up and go to sleep, you little pervert.”
For once, you actually listen to him, bidding him a drowsy “goodnight” and knocking out almost immediately after. He falls asleep not long after you do, drifting off to the sound of your steady breathing and the patter of midnight rain.
Sae wakes before you the next morning, and the first thing he notices is how much closer you are to him now than when you fell asleep.
He’s not sure how it happened, but it seems that somehow over the course of the night, you’ve managed to curl yourself into his side. Now, your head is resting comfortably on his chest, your hand splayed against the muscles of his abdomen.
Sae wishes he could blame the new and compromising position solely on you, but sadly he can’t. At least not when he looks down and finds that his own traitorous arm has wrapped itself around your waist to keep you pressed against him, one of his legs tangled with yours.
It’s cuddly and intimate and most definitely against the unofficial rules of your arrangement, but still, he can’t find it in himself to wake you. He doesn’t shove you off, either, even though he knows he should, half because he thinks he’d rather die than talk to you about this and half because he doesn’t hate it nearly as much as he thought it would.
You’re pretty like this, Sae thinks distantly, completely unprovoked. You always are, but you’re softer when you’re asleep, more relaxed. It’s different from the version of you he’s used to, the one that’s loud and a little bit unruly, who talks a mile a minute and knocks back caffeine like it’s water because she always has a million different things to do.
He never imagined he’d get the chance to see you like this, all delicate and vulnerable. He never imagined he would want to, or that looking at you would make him feel this way, warm and fond and ridiculous. Human, too, in the way he so often likes to forget he is.
He spends longer than he should taking in the curve of your lips, the slope of your cheek. He untangles himself from you as carefully as he can manage and forces himself out of bed before he does something really stupid, like brush your hair out of your face or swipe his thumb against your cheek.
Sae takes a cold shower and runs through what’s left of his morning routine, willing all the strange thoughts he’s having about you to disappear.
It works for the most part, until you come padding into the kitchen and join him at the counter like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You’re bare-faced and sleepy, dressed in one of his t-shirts and the sweatpants he let you borrow last night, glasses perched on the bridge of your nose and your hair pulled up and away from your face. He thinks fleetingly that it’s the cutest you’ve ever looked, which is not only ridiculous but also so unlike him that he has to resist the urge to vomit right then and there.
Somehow he manages, handing you a cup of steaming coffee as soon as you approach. You take it from him without hesitation, accepting the drink with a grateful smile and murmuring a quiet good morning.
If you’re surprised by the gesture, you don’t show it, too busy sipping gingerly at your coffee and letting it wake you up. Then you’re launching into your usual upbeat chatter, this time about your job and the co-worker who you swear you’re one “as per my last email” away from fist-fighting in the conference room.
It’s normal enough to distract him, allowing him to push away the memory of how you woke up this morning and all the sappy shit he’s been thinking about you as a result.
He almost forgets about it entirely, until later that night when he slips into bed and catches the scent of your shampoo on his pillow.
That’s when his mind begins to drift, completely against his will. He starts remembering all sorts of unwelcome things, like the weight of you in his arms, the curve of your lashes against your cheek, how tempted he was to brush your hair out of your face and pull you closer—
Sae huffs and flips the pillow over, somewhere between confused and annoyed, though whether it’s with you or himself, he isn’t sure.
He turns around and closes his eyes, forcing himself to sleep, but the thought of you lingers.
It’s Aina —and, by default, Oliver— who finds out first.
It happens on a Saturday morning, nearly four months into your arrangement with Sae. Aina shows up at your apartment completely unannounced, with a tray of coffee and a surprisingly dutiful Oliver in tow, carrying the rest of the bags. (Apparently, it’s an on-week for them.)
They mean to surprise you with breakfast, hoping to convince you over french toast and scrambled eggs to put a pause on your ‘no relationships allowed’ policy and agree to a double date with one of his teammates.
One could only imagine their surprise when they find you standing in your entryway with an entirely different teammate, one who apparently already has access to sleepover privileges. And with Sae in his clothes from the night before and you in your robe and absolutely nothing else, it isn’t hard for them to put two and two together and realize what you’ve been up to.
The silence that follows their discovery is the loudest Sae thinks he’s ever heard in his life. There’s an uncomfortably long moment where the four of you just stand there and stare at each other, not saying a single word.
Aina is the first to react, letting out an Oscar-worthy gasp loud enough to alert your neighbors. Her eyes go wide, jaw dropping as her gaze jumps back and forth between you and Sae, like her brain can’t fully make sense of what she’s seeing.
“Holy shit.”
Oliver, on the other hand, appears to be having the time of his life, leering at the two of you with the largest and most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen on his face, like this is the best news he’s heard all week.
“No fucking way,” he says, two-toned eyes darting between you and Sae wickedly, before settling on you once more. “You bagged Itoshi?”
It’s a pretty spot-on assumption, Sae thinks, even if the way Oliver says it is stupid and irritating as hell. You are the one who approached him first, as well as the one who initiated things that first night you slept together. Not that it’s anyone else’s business, anyway, least of all nosy-ass Oliver’s.
You and Sae exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between you. It’s a testament to how familiar you’ve grown with one another over the past few months, where just one look is enough for the two of you to get an idea of what the other is thinking.
Having two of the loudest people you know find out you’ve been sleeping together isn’t ideal —neither Aina nor Oliver is exactly known for their subtlety— but it’s not the end of the world.
The two of you agreed to keep things quiet because you wanted your privacy, not because you’re ashamed of what you’ve been doing, so telling them won’t change much, as long as they don’t make it a big deal.
And besides, it’s not like you’re in any position to deny it, not when they’ve caught you red-handed.
Still, Aina and Oliver are more your friends than they are Sae’s, so he has no problem with you taking the lead on this one, which he attempts to communicate with a subtle nod of his head.
Thankfully, you seem to understand exactly what he means, clearing your throat and drawing all eyes back to you.
You pointedly ignore Oliver and his devilish smirk in favor of focusing on your best friend, who seems to be short-circuiting in light of the new information that’s been presented to her today. You take it all in stride, wielding that same easy confidence that Sae’s always admired in you, and nod at the tray she’s carrying.
“Is that iced coffee for me?”
Aina, for her part, still appears to be at a loss for words, but she makes an effort to answer you all the same, a confused but otherwise affirmative sound leaving her lips in response. You smile, reaching out to pluck the drink from its tray.
“Cool. Thanks.” You take a sip of your coffee before returning your attention to the midfielder beside you, offering him a warm smile and a parting wave. “Bye, Sae.”
It’s an easy out, of course, one that Sae is quick to accept, nodding at you and the stunned couple across from you before taking his leave.
The last thing he hears before your door shuts is the sound of Aina’s voice, baffled and utterly disbelieving as it rings out into your apartment.
“You’ve been fucking Itoshi Sae?!”
Her astonishment is a sentiment that carries over into the texts she sends you that same night, complete with various emojis and an assortment of reaction images she hopes will reflect her lingering shock. Oliver isn’t far behind her, though the texts he sends you are more teasing than anything else.
Still, they’re both strangely supportive about the whole thing. They even promise to keep what they’ve learned to themselves, though they still can’t quite believe it.
You show the texts to Sae the next time you’re at his place, letting him read them over your shoulder as the two of you lounge together in his bed, your back against his chest and his arm wound loosely around your waist.
The reaction images are sadly lost on him —Sae, as it turns out, really only cares about soccer, which means he has the social media literacy of a 70-year-old man— but he’s able to catch the gist.
You laugh about it together anyway, though for him it’s more of a little hum, followed by that tiny amused smirk you’re seeing more and more of every day.
“Did they seriously congratulate you for sleeping with me?”
“Yup. It’s a big deal, according to them. They’re both very proud of me.” You lock your phone and set it gently on his nightstand, twisting in his arms to face him with a teasing grin. “Apparently, I’m hooking up with the hottest midfielder in the league.”
He brushes off the comment at first, the way he seems to do with all of your obvious flirting, but he doesn’t stop you when you lift your leg and hike it over his hip.
And maybe it’s because he’s tired from practice, or maybe it’s because being around you relaxes him in a way he isn’t used to— but he ends up pulling you closer, palm smoothing over your skin and tracing a path up your leg.
“Well,” he mutters, hand squeezing appreciatively at your thigh, “it’s not like they’re wrong.”
“I dunno…” You let your voice trail off, fingertips skimming down his chest as you pretend to think about it. “I mean, ‘hottest midfielder’ is a really big title, and from what I’ve seen, your brother’s pretty hot, too.”
“My brother’s a striker, dumbass.”
“Even better. Think you can put in a good word for me?”
He shoots you a flat look, unimpressed by your joke, while you grin at him and crack up like you're the funniest person in the world. You’re still laughing when he reaches behind his head for a pillow and smacks you right in the face with it, squeaking out a “hey, wait, I’m kidding— I’m kidding!” between bursts of laughter.
And it’s ridiculous, Sae thinks, how easily the sound of your laugh softens him, how quickly it makes him forget about ever being annoyed. It shouldn’t, but it does, and right now he’s trying very hard not to think about what that might mean.
So he pushes it down and ignores it, the same way he’s forced himself to ignore how comfortable he’s gotten with you these past few months, hooking his hand behind your knee and rolling you both over so you’re laying on your back with him hovering above you.
He kisses you, then, deep and wanting in the way he knows you like, the one that leaves you breathless, half to distract himself and half because he wants to. You welcome him eagerly the way you always do, hooking your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers in his hair in an effort to bring him closer to you.
He breaks the kiss before it can go any further, drawing back just enough so that his lips are hovering above your own. You open your eyes, pupils blown out with desire, blinking at him expectantly as you wait for him to kiss you again.
When he doesn’t, you move for him, leaning up to press your lips back against his. He moves just out of reach at the last second, leaving you with a crease in your forehead and a pout on your lips that’s almost cute enough for him to give you what you want. Almost.
But Sae, as you’ve both learned, has a bit of a possessive streak. And while he’s already forgiven you for your earlier teasing, he hasn’t forgotten. And he intends, in true egoist fashion, to have the last word, even if it means having to stave off his own desires for a bit.
“You still interested in my brother?” he asks, and it’s pointed, goading. Probably the closest he’ll get to admitting how utterly disinterested he is in sharing you with anyone else.
“Wait, you have a brother?” You widen your eyes and pretend to be shocked, batting your lashes innocently before shaking your head. “Never heard of him.”
“Idiot,” he tells you, quiet, fond. Affectionate, too, if you’d listen closely enough. If he’d let you.
You merely laugh in response, bright and airy, before wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him down to you. This time, he doesn’t pull away, leaning down to kiss you and feeling your smile against his lips.
It’s not long after that your kisses turn heated and wanting, his tongue and lips tracing a path down your neck and over your breasts. He takes one nipple into his mouth and rolls the other between his thumb and index finger, your nails digging into his back as you moan, pretty and breathless into his ear.
One of the perks of your arrangement lasting so long is that it’s made Sae somewhat of an expert at taking you apart. He knows exactly how to make you feel good, knows your body and all of its little tells, all the ways you like to be touched.
It doesn’t take much for him to have you desperate and keening, just his tongue at your clit and his fingers deep in your cunt, curling against the spot that makes your eyes roll back.
Soon you’re pulling at his hair, your arousal dripping down his wrist and chin as you whine at him to fuck you, all trembling thighs and breathy whimpers. He obliges, half because you’re practically begging for it and half because he wants you so much, it’s starting to make him dizzy.
It’s not always like this. Most nights Sae prefers taking his time with you. He gets off on seeing how needy you get, how much he can make you want him. You never beg for anything, never want for anything from anyone else until you’re here, desperate and panting beneath him.
He likes seeing you that way. He likes being the one you seek out to give it to you even more.
Tonight, though, it’s different. He’s not sure what triggered it, but suddenly he can’t stop touching you, can’t stop thinking about you and how much he wants you. He’s always attentive, but right now he feels greedy, impatient. Wild in a way he isn’t used to. He kisses you, and it’s hungry, deliberate, like he has something to prove.
He helps you to your knees and fucks you with his hands at your hips and his chest at your back, hard and deep the way he knows you like. He makes you cum with your cheek pressed into the mattress and your hands digging into the sheets, and then he flips you over and pushes your knees to your chest, sliding back into you.
He makes you cum like that, too, with his name on your lips and your hands laced with his own, pinned above your head— once, twice more until he’s had his fill and begins chasing his own release, his face pressed against your neck as he finally lets go and falls apart inside of you.
You shower together afterwards, all slow kisses and languid touches as you stand beneath the warmth of his stupidly expensive shower head. It’s softer than it should be, too soft to be considered casual.
Sae knows it, too, just like he knows he should quit while he’s ahead and pull away from you before it’s too late, but he can’t, not when the scrape of your nails against his scalp as you lave shampoo through his hair feels as good as it does.
You exit the shower looking clean and refreshed, hair damp and skin glowing as you towel yourself off. You smell just like him, the scent of his body wash clinging to your skin.
It does something stupid to his brain, knowing that. Makes his ears red and his heart race in a way he immediately tries to bury. For some reason, this time it’s harder to do.
You get dressed in his bedroom and pack your bag. You tell him you have a big meeting at work tomorrow, so you can’t spend the night. You stay for dinner anyway, letting him treat you to takeout from your favorite restaurant.
The two of you sit on his couch and enjoy your meal together. As usual, you’re the one who provides most of the conversation, Sae preferring to nod along and listen, interjecting every now and then with a surprisingly thoughtful question or a sly comment that has you elbowing him in the side.
With takeout boxes littering his coffee table and a movie you’ve both already seen playing idly in the background, his apartment feels more lived in now than it ever has before, the way it always does whenever you come over. Sae does his very best to ignore how normal it all seems, how easily your knee presses against his as you sit beside him on the couch.
When it’s time for you to leave, he walks you to the door. You thank him again for dinner and smile when he brushes you off, reminding you to text him when you get home.
Then you kiss him goodbye and he lets you, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like it isn’t a big deal, even though you both know it is.
And though he knows he shouldn’t, though he knows he’s better off pushing it down and ignoring it, the way he’s gotten so good at lately— he thinks about it for the rest of the night.
Things get a little blurrier after that.
It starts slowly, at first. An extra toothbrush by his sink, your hair ties on his nightstand. Little pieces of you scattered across his apartment that reveal just how intertwined your lives have become, even if neither of you wants to admit it.
He gets into the habit of picking you up from work. Starts showing up at your door with a bottle of wine and your favorite comfort snacks whenever he knows you’ve had a shitty week. There’s a shelf in his bathroom set aside just for you, stocked with moisturizer, cleanser, and face masks he lets you slather on his skin every now and then, on nights when he’s feeling particularly indulgent.
Your place is just as bad, if not worse. There’s protein powder in your pantry now, his hoodies hung up comfortably in your closet.
You drive him to practice when you have some free time and send him voice notes when you don’t, ones he makes a fuss about but always listens to. And whenever he has a game, you’re the first person who Facetimes him in the morning, wishing him luck and letting him know how excited you are to watch him win.
These days, you’re together more often than you’re apart. Sometimes he invites you over, and you don’t even have sex at all— you just hang out in his apartment and tell him about your day, resting your feet in his lap while his hands roam up and down your calves, and it feels like enough. Having you there feels like enough.
It gets to the point that whenever Shidou or Oliver want to reach him, they call you instead, knowing that Sae will be with you, the way he always seems to be now. It’s so humbling that for a single, horrifying moment, he considers cutting you off completely.
But Sae knows, even before the thought forms in his mind, that he won’t be able to go through with it. You’re too important to him now, too familiar. You’re his best friend, and as confusing and annoying as his thoughts about you have become, he can’t stay away from you.
He doesn’t even realize how bad he’s got it until another two months later, on the night of your birthday, when a conversation with Oliver forces him to confront the feelings he’s usually a lot better at ignoring.
The evening itself starts off normally enough. Sae spends most of it on the field with his team, in preparation for a rivalry game that’s less than a week away. The other players leave as soon as their coach dismisses them, eager to hit the showers and get some rest, but Sae stays behind for some extra practice.
He’s still at it by the time Oliver returns from the locker room. The centerback looks surprised to see that Sae’s still there, but he doesn’t hesitate to approach, joining his teammate out on the pitch.
“Figures you’d be the last one on the field,” Oliver says, greeting him with his signature sleazy smile. “You trying to make the rest of us look bad, Itoshi?”
Sae barely spares him a glance, choosing instead to focus on the row of soccer balls lined up at his feet. “I’ve never had to try to do that.”
Anyone else would be insulted, but Oliver just laughs, too used to Sae’s attitude to take it personally. “Why’re you still out here, anyway? It’s your girl’s birthday tonight. Shouldn’t you be back at your place getting ready?”
You’re not his girl, obviously, but correcting Oliver would be more trouble than it’s worth, so Sae doesn’t bother. “Why would I do that?”
“Oh, come on, man. No one’s that much of an asshole, not even you. Aren’t you coming to her party?”
Sae knows all about your party, of course. You invited him a while ago, though you made it clear it was a no pressure invitation. You knew he had that game coming up and that parties —especially the over the top and extravagant kind planned by Aina— aren’t really his thing, so you’d understand if he didn’t attend.
You’ve always been like that. Always more considerate than he or anyone else deserves. He picked up a present for you anyway, a simple necklace with a diamond sun pendant that made him think of you.
He planned to give it to you next week. Figured it would more than make up for his absence tonight, especially when he knows you’ll be busy with your friends. He’ll be shocked if you even notice he isn’t there, which is why he doesn’t feel the least bit guilty about sitting this one out.
“I’m not going,” Sae states plainly, kicking the ball at his feet and watching it land in the goal. “She said I didn’t have to.”
“Well yeah, that sounds like her, but don’t you want to? It’d be a fun way to surprise her,” Oliver points out, as if Sae really needs the reminder. “Hell, even I’m going, and she only tolerates me.”
“She knows I’m busy.” Another kick, another goal. Sae lifts the bottom of his shirt and wipes at the sweat on his face, unmoved. “She’ll be fine.”
“Damn.” Oliver whistles and crosses his arms over his chest, somewhere between incredulous and impressed. “And here I thought the two of you were finally getting serious. Shidou’ll be thrilled you’re back on the market. Adrian, too— though for different reasons.”
That catches Sae’s attention. He pauses before his next kick and shifts his gaze to where Oliver stands, narrowing his eyes.
He isn’t sure what his teammate is suggesting here, but he already doesn’t like it.
“Am I supposed to care about who that is?”
“You tell me. See, from what I hear, he’s your girl’s— my bad, I mean your not-girl’s ex. Apparently they ended on pretty good terms. Aina told me he’ll be there tonight, along with the rest of their friends.”
Oliver waits for a moment, letting his words sink in, before he grins knowingly, mismatched eyes smug and goading.
“Guess it’s a good thing you don’t care, huh?”
Sae feels himself frown, eyes narrowing into a glare as something heavy and bitter settles over his chest. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut, too, one that makes his stomach twist with discomfort.
You’ve never mentioned Adrian before. You’ve never mentioned any of your exes before, at least not to Sae, and why would you?
Contrary to popular belief, Sae’s not your boyfriend. He’s not even someone you’re officially dating. He’s just a friend you fuck regularly and hang out with after, even if it has been going on for way too long to be considered casual.
The point is, who you choose to spend your time with, romantically or otherwise, is none of his business, because you never agreed to be exclusive. And it’s not like he cares if you’re seeing other people, anyway, because he doesn’t. He doesn’t care.
He’s just a little annoyed by it, is all. Just a little irritated by the fact that Oliver would waste his time by bringing it up now, even though he knows Sae has more important things on his mind, like the upcoming game everyone else seems to be forgetting about.
That’s what Sae tells himself, anyway. What he reminds himself of even after Oliver says goodbye and heads off to get ready, leaving him alone on the pitch with nothing but his thoughts.
He repeats it inside of his head, over and over again, telling himself that it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t care— even as the next ball he kicks misses, ricocheting off the goalpost.
So what if you’re seeing the ex you never mentioned tonight? And so what if the two of you ended on good enough terms for you to feel comfortable inviting him to your party? It’s your birthday, and you’re allowed to spend it with whoever you want.
Sae knows that, just like he knows you don’t owe him anything, least of all an explanation. And he doesn’t care— he doesn’t. He shouldn’t, because if he did, well— then that would mean he cares about you, maybe even has actual feelings for you, and that just wouldn’t make any sense, would it?
Because Sae doesn’t do this kind of thing. He doesn’t do feelings, or relationships, or anything else that puts him at risk of being vulnerable. He isn’t made for it. He never has been.
But then he thinks of you. Of your smile and your enthusiasm, of your quick comebacks and your laugh that turns into a snort whenever you think something is especially funny.
He thinks about the first time you spent the night at his place. He remembers waking up with you after and how easy it felt to hold you, how right.
You are thoughtful in a way that Sae is not, light-hearted and optimistic in a way he knows he’ll never be. You’re smart, too, smarter than anyone else he knows and more sensitive than you like to admit.
You’re stubborn to a fault, you hate admitting when you’re wrong, and you wouldn’t know how to relax even if someone paid you— but Sae can’t think of anything he’d like to do more than spend his time trying to keep up with you.
It hits him, then. The truth he’s spent the past few months trying to deny. All those sappy thoughts he’s had about you, the comfort and ease that settle over him whenever he’s around you— it’s not just because he likes spending time with you, or because he considers you a close friend.
It’s because he has feelings for you. Real, genuine feelings that he can’t ignore, at least not anymore.
It’s why hearing about your ex distracts him enough to make him miss the goal. Why the thought of you with someone else makes him feel sick to his stomach. And as much as Sae hates being vulnerable and honest about his feelings, he thinks he hates the idea of you cozying up to your ex even more.
He doesn’t know what he’s going to do about it yet, or what he’s going to say to you— but what he does know is that he can’t do it here, so he picks up his bag and leaves the field.
An hour later, he’s in his car and driving up to the lounge where Aina’s hosting your party, freshly showered and handing his keys over to the valet. The necklace he picked out for you rests inside the pocket of his jacket, tucked securely against his side.
It’ll pair nicely with his confession, he thinks, if he can find the words. If his logic will allow it.
Inside the lounge, it doesn’t take him long to find you. You’re exactly where he thought you’d be, smack dab in the middle of the dance floor, swaying your hips and singing your heart out with Aina and the rest of your friends at your side.
You look incredible, all smooth skin and glittery eyes, dressed in something soft and lacey he can’t wait to help you out of. You’ve always been beautiful, but here beneath the warm lights with your hair framing your face and your lips curled into that alluring smile, you’re easily the most stunning thing he’s ever seen.
Sae spends longer than he probably should just looking at you, watching you laugh and dance out on the floor, spurred on by the music and the enthusiastic cheers of your friends. He finds himself smiling before he can really help it, tender and fond in the way only you ever seem to make him.
You do a bit of a double take when you spot him, craning your neck past Aina’s head to get a better view. He sends you a short nod as a form of greeting, and you return it with an excited wave of your own, excusing yourself from your friends to join him where he stands at the edge of the crowd.
You smile as you approach, a little breathless from all the dancing, but still so beautiful. You look happy that he’s here, but you’re surprised, too, eyes wide, like he’s the last person you expected to see.
“Sae? What are you doing here?”
It’s a fair question, considering the fact that the last time you spoke, he told you he couldn’t make it, but he raises an eyebrow anyway, like he can’t believe you’d ask. “You invited me, remember?”
“Well, yeah, I did, but I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” you say honestly, laughing a little. “I thought you were busy.”
“I was. Now I’m not.” When your eyes widen even more, your surprise giving way to disbelief, Sae’s eyebrows furrow. “Is it really that big of a deal?”
“That you’re choosing to spend your free time surrounded by everyone I know getting drunk off their asses? Kind of, yeah.” You reach out and smooth your hands over his chest, tugging at the lapels of his jacket to tease him. “I didn’t realize you cared so much.”
And Sae, too sure of his feelings to deny it, but too stubborn to agree, merely sighs, though he does nothing to move your hands away. “Look, if you want me to leave—”
“And rob me and the rest of my friends of the opportunity to ogle you in a button-down? On my birthday?” You put a hand over your heart and shake your head, looking scandalized. “That’s so disrespectful, not to mention selfish. I’m honestly offended that you even suggested it.”
He rolls his eyes, muttering something about you being the most dramatic person in the world, and you start to laugh, lips curling into that lovely little smile that lately he can’t stop thinking about.
Then you take his hand, sliding your fingers through his in a way that feels a lot more significant now that he knows he has feelings for you, and Sae feels something in his chest shift all over again, his pulse quickening beneath his skin.
“Come on,” you tell him, tugging on his hand to guide him forward, completely unaware of the effect you have on him. “I’ll get you a drink.”
You lead him to the bar and prop yourself up on one of the stools. Sae takes a seat beside you and watches as you order two cocktails— something simple for him and something sweet for yourself. The bartender makes quick work of your drinks, setting them down in front of you in record time and leaving you and Sae to chat.
“How was practice?”
“Same as always. How’s your party?”
“It’s been a lot of fun, actually. Aina really outdid herself. I’m thankful, even if it is forcing me to accept the sad reality that I’m basically a grandma now.” You let out a wistful sigh, stirring your drink with your straw. “When I was in college, I used to knock back tequila like it was water. Now it just kind of burns.”
That has him letting out an actual laugh, quiet but genuine, though he attempts to cover it up by reaching for his drink. You notice anyway and beam at the sound, unreasonably pleased with yourself, the way you always are whenever you manage to make him laugh.
He thinks of telling you that you’re the only one who can, the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do so. But the bar is rowdy and the music’s too loud, so he keeps it to himself, taking a sip of his drink and watching you do the same.
You chat for a while longer, catching each other up on all that you’ve missed in the week since you last saw one another. He tells you about the trip he took to the beach and the clothing sponsorship his manager won’t shut up about, and you tell him about the new pastry shop you tried and the comically large fruit bouquet your parents had delivered to your doorstep this morning.
And it’s easy, Sae thinks, talking to you like this. He’s never been a fan of parties, but sitting here with you, listening to your voice and hearing you laugh, it isn’t so bad.
He spent most of the drive here thinking of you and coming to terms with his feelings for you. These past few months have been filled with nothing but denial on his part, with Sae doing everything in his power to convince himself that he only saw you as the friend he was casually hooking up with, despite every one of his thoughts and actions proving otherwise.
But on the drive here, when he finally sat down to think about it, he found that what he feels for you was strangely easy for him to accept, despite the initial shock of it all.
Sae’s never been one for romance or relationships. He’s never imagined that’d be something he’d want, but looking at you now and wanting you the way he does, he knows it’s true. If he has to have feelings for anyone, he figures it might as well be you.
You, with all your sarcasm and your compassion and that soft little smile he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of.
He’s glad that it’s you.
If Sae were softer, more sensitive like Rin, he’d tell you. If he were better with words, if he knew what to say or where to start, he’d grab your hand and take you somewhere quiet and romantic, and then he’d tell you the truth. He’d tell you everything, all about the way you make him feel and all the parts of himself you make him want to give you.
But Sae isn’t like that. And while normally he wouldn’t hesitate to go after what he wants, he’s not going to risk ruining your birthday or the friendship you’ve built by telling you about the feelings he’s only now realizing he has, especially when he has no idea how to put them into words.
So he doesn’t.
He just listens to the sound of your voice and keeps his feelings to himself, pretending that absolutely nothing has changed even when it’s obvious that everything has.
Eventually, Aina and the rest of your girlfriends show up at the bar to steal you away. They’re shouting something about birthday pictures and ass-shaking that Sae only half-understands, but he doesn’t fight them on it. He knows how excited you are to spend tonight celebrating and letting loose with your friends, so he lets them whisk you away, nodding when you promise to catch up with him later.
Shidou and Oliver show up to harass him the second you and your friends are gone. They try to bully him into taking shots with them, but when that doesn’t work, they settle for setting him up with another drink instead. Then they each sling an arm around his shoulders and herd him over to the couches, where a handful of their other teammates are waiting.
The next time Sae sees you, you're back on the dance floor with your friends. He recognizes most of them, like Aina and Eri, Kenta and Misaki. The only stranger is the man standing behind you, the one Sae immediately decides he doesn’t like.
That’s when Sae notices how close this guy is to you and how low his hands are on your waist. All of a sudden, ignoring his feelings for you becomes a lot harder to do, especially now, when he’s almost positive that you’re dancing with your ex.
Sae doesn’t actually know that the man you’re dancing with is Adrian, of course. He’s too far away to hear what’s being said or to catch any names, but with how comfortable this guy seems to be with touching you, it isn’t hard to guess. He’s lean and broad-shouldered, too, with bright green eyes and silky dark hair, and well— you did say you have a type.
And when you glance over your shoulder to look at him, instead of being disgusted and telling him to get the fuck away from you, the way Sae is hoping you will, you smile. You actually fucking smile, accepting the bastard’s outstretched hand and letting him spin you around, like it’s normal, like you’re used to it. Like it’s something the two of you have done a million times before.
Quite frankly, it makes Sae want to fucking vomit.
It bothers him more than he cares to admit, watching you dance with Adrian and seeing how happy you look, how easily you welcome your ex-boyfriend’s touch. You aren’t even doing anything particularly scandalous, just laughing and letting him twirl you around, but seeing it happen still makes Sae’s stomach churn and his chest ache in a way he knows can’t be normal.
When the song changes, Aina ushers you and the rest of your group back towards the bar, ending your little stint on the dance floor. Sae finds himself grateful for the interruption, until he realizes that all it’s done is provide Adrian with the opportunity to get even closer to you, nestling himself between you and Eri.
Aina stands on your other side and waves down the bartender, but all Sae can focus on is the arm Adrian has wrapped around your shoulders, the way he leans in close and whispers in your ear.
Immediately, Sae decides he can’t watch anymore, not unless he actually wants to throw up. So instead of sticking around to see what happens next, he stands up and walks away, before the tension in his chest makes him do something stupid.
Shidou and Oliver call after him in confusion, but Sae ignores them, disappearing into the crowd without looking back.
There’s an outdoor section attached to the lounge, guarded by a set of clunky metal doors he didn’t notice until now. He pushes past them and is pleased to find the space almost entirely empty, save for the trio of smokers who are already on their way back inside, their cigarettes quickly blackening in the ashtray left on one of the tables outside.
Sae walks past them as they exit, ignoring the open chairs and couches in favor of standing closer to the balcony. He braces himself against the railing, nursing a drink he doesn’t even really want in his hand and a heaviness he isn’t used to in his heart.
It’s colder out here than it is inside. Quieter, too, though Sae hardly minds it. He welcomes the chill and the silence it brings, even if it does little to sort out his thoughts. All he knows for sure is that right now, he wants to be alone, and being out here can give him that, so he stays.
He enjoys about ten minutes of blissful silence before he hears the doors push open again. He braces himself with a deep sigh and looks over his shoulder, ready to tell Oliver to go back inside and leave him alone, but he stops himself when he sees that it’s you.
And it’s awful, Sae thinks, how easily the sight of you softens him, how happy he is to see you, even now. A few seconds ago, he was convinced he didn’t want to see anyone at all, but looking at you now, he can’t imagine ever asking you to leave.
The thought’s a little easier for him to stomach now that he’s accepted his feelings for you, but that doesn’t make it any less disorienting.
“There you are,” you say, greeting him with a warm smile and looking just as happy to see him now as you were when he first arrived. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to. I tried asking Oliver, but he wasn’t sure, either.”
Sae’s eyebrows raise at your words, his previous agitation forgotten. “You went looking for me?”
“Of course.” You join him at the railing, heels clacking against the pavement as you walk. You’re standing close enough now that your arm touches his, but he doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. “I can’t exactly fulfill my promise of ogling you if you’re all the way out here, now, can I?”
“I’m sure you would’ve figured something out,” he says, bumping his shoulder with yours, even as the corners of his lips twitch in amusement. “You’re persistent that way.”
“Can you blame me? You know what the sight of you with your shirt buttons undone does to the general public, myself included.”
“Weirdly enough, you’re not the first person to tell me that tonight.”
“Let me guess— Shidou?”
“He’s the only other person as dedicated to flirting with me as you are.”
You laugh, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a shrug. “What can I say? We have excellent taste.”
“Is that what you’re calling it?” He raises an eyebrow at you and hums, amused. “And here I thought it was just the two of you being shameless as always.”
“Only for you,” you say, voice low and playful, punctuating your words with a ridiculous wink that he shouldn’t find nearly half as endearing as he does. “Well, you and Pedro Pascal, but he didn’t show up for my birthday the way you did, so— mostly you.”
“I’m flattered,” he drawls sarcastically, making you laugh.
A brief silence follows, though it’s far from uncomfortable. It never is, not when it’s just you and Sae. You know he isn’t exactly the most talkative person, but you’ve never seemed to have a problem with that, never tried to make him into something he’s not. It’s one of the many things he likes about you.
You blink when you catch him staring at you, but you don’t hesitate to smile at him anyway. “What?”
“Nothing.” He’s quick to change the subject, clearing his throat and tearing his gaze away from your own. That’s when he notices the way you’re shivering, your arms going up to wrap around yourself as a breeze passes and goosebumps rise on your skin. “You’re cold.”
“Only a little,” you admit, expression bashful as you rub your arm, “but it’s fine. I’ll adjust. Honestly, with how hot it was inside, I probably need the—”
He doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and offering it for you to take. “Here.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay. Really, you don’t have to—”
Your protests quickly go nowhere, Sae choosing to ignore you and all but shoving his jacket into your hands. You accept it from him somewhat unsurely, though that hesitance quickly disappears the moment you feel how warm his jacket feels around you.
You slide your arms through the sleeves and let the jacket rest comfortably around your shoulders, looking up to face him with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
He nods in acknowledgement of your gratitude but says nothing else, too busy taking in the sight of you in his jacket and thinking about how much better it’d be if you were actually his.
Not for the first time, he thinks of confessing his feelings. He settles for bringing up the gift he got you instead, hoping it’ll be enough to make you understand.
“There’s something in it for you,” he says quickly, before he can talk himself out of it. “Inside the pocket.”
You blink, taken aback. “Really?”
When he nods, you reach inside his jacket. It takes you a moment or two of rummaging around, but eventually you find what you’re looking for, pulling out the dark velvet box that holds the necklace he got you for your birthday and cradling it gently inside your palm.
You meet his gaze briefly, eyes soft and searching, before opening the box with your other hand. You let out a tiny gasp when you see what’s inside, your eyes widening at the sun pendant that rests before you. It quite literally takes your breath away, and Sae knows, even before you meet his eyes again, that he’s done something right.
“Oh, my god. Sae, this is so— I mean, I don’t even know what to—” He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this way before, so at a loss for words. Usually you always have something to say, but right now you can hardly form a sentence, eyes wide as you all but gape at him. “Are you sure?”
“Happy birthday,” Sae says, as softly and sincerely as he can manage. “I hope you like it.”
“Are you kidding? How could I not?”
You laugh a little, voice disbelieving as you trace your fingertips over the necklace, gentle and admiring. Sae can’t help but smile to himself as he watches you, pleased by how touched you seem to be by the gift.
“It’s beautiful. Seriously, Sae, it’s gorgeous and wonderful— and way too fucking expensive.” You snap the box closed, shaking your head firmly. “I can’t accept this.”
Your words make him frown, brows furrowing slightly as you hold the box out to him. He had a feeling you’d be difficult about this, knowing how notoriously stubborn you are, but he thought you’d at least put the necklace on before trying to give it back to him.
“Why not?”
“What do you mean, why not?” You stare at him, bewildered, an almost comically serious look on your face as you lift the box in your hands and shake it around. “Sae, there are actual diamonds on this necklace.”
He resists the urge to laugh at your expression, shrugging his shoulders and raising an eyebrow. “So?”
“So?” you repeat, giving him an incredulous look. “That means it’s probably worth more than my freakin’ apartment! I can’t take this from you.”
“You’re not taking anything. I’m giving it to you,” Sae corrects, completely unbothered, even as your eye starts to twitch in a way that makes it clear you think he’s lost his mind. “You know, like that gift thing people do on birthdays?”
He tries to make a joke, but you hardly acknowledge it, evidently too occupied with having an internal crisis about the amount of money he spent to appreciate his rare attempt at humor. There’s a frown on your lips and a crease in your brow that reassure him it’s going to take a lot more than that to convince you to accept the gift, but thankfully, Sae has already prepared for that.
“I’m not bringing it back to the store,” he says, meeting your eyes so you can see exactly how serious he is. “I already got rid of the receipt, and I’m not giving it to anyone else, so either you take it, or it goes in the trash.”
You open your mouth to argue, but the look on his face must make you reconsider, because you’re closing it before you can say anything else. Realizing that regardless of your protests, he won’t be changing his mind, you sigh, relenting.
“Fine. I’ll take it.” You’re trying your best to pout, making a show of your begrudging acceptance, but the sparkle in your eye as you gaze down at the box in your hand betrays just how thrilled you really are to be keeping the gift. “But I would like the record to show that I think you’re a psychopath. A filthy rich, full-blown psychopath.”
“You know, most people would just say thank you.”
Sae expects you to make a quip back, maybe even return his snark with an eye roll of your own, but you surprise him by taking his hand in yours, using the other to cradle the box to your chest.
“Thank you, Sae.” You squeeze his hand and smile, gratitude and sincerity hanging off every word. “I love it.”
You give his hand another gentle squeeze before releasing it and turning your attention back to the box you’re holding, a distraction Sae finds himself grateful for. He’s not sure what kind of expression he’s making right now, but if the way his pulse is racing is any indication, he doubts it’s anything normal.
He watches as you open the box and remove the necklace from inside. Once it’s been freed, you put the empty box back in his pocket and let the necklace dangle from your fingertips, turning to offer it to him again.
“Will you help me put it on?”
For a moment, all Sae can do is nod. His pulse is still racing, drumming beneath his skin with the kind of adrenaline he thought he’d only ever get while playing soccer. He ignores it as best as he can, clearing his throat and taking the necklace from you.
“Turn around.”
You do as he asks, turning so your back is facing him and holding up your hair so it’s out of the way. He brings the necklace to your throat, fingers brushing against your neck in a way that makes you shudder slightly, goosebumps rising on your skin as you lean instinctively into his touch.
The sight is tempting enough to make him want to forget the necklace entirely and bring his lips to your throat, grazing the spot below your ear he knows drives you crazy, but somehow he resists the urge, clasping the necklace shut without any further incident.
“Well?” You let go of your hair and turn back around to face him, a smile on your face as you put your hands on your hips and strike a pose. “How’s it look?”
What Sae wants to say is that you look stunning. That you always do, and that it has nothing to do with the necklace at your throat or the clothes you wear and everything to do with the way you carry yourself, dramatic nonsense and all.
What comes out of his mouth instead isn’t nearly as poetic. “It looks better on you than it would have in the garbage can.”
It’s probably one of the least romantic things you’ve ever heard, but luckily for him, you’re too used to his personality to be offended by it. All you do is laugh, brushing it off without a second thought.
“You know,” you say, in the shittiest imitation of his voice you can manage, throwing his words back at him the way he’s sure you planned to from the beginning, “most people would just say it looks good on me.”
Sae huffs out a laugh, though he still makes a point to roll his eyes at your words. He watches you grin and laugh along with him, taking in the curve of your lips and the flutter of your lashes, and finds himself speaking again, before he can change his mind.
“It does.” It’s hard to say who the confession surprises more— you or himself. He keeps going anyway, even as your laughter fades and your eyes widen. “You look—” It takes him a second to gather himself, the words awkward and stiff coming from his mouth, but just as sincere. “—beautiful. You are beautiful.”
Understandably, the compliment catches you off guard. Sae’s called you many things before —stubborn, ridiculous, dramatic, even shameless— but he’s never called you beautiful. He’s never called anything beautiful, at least not on purpose. You probably didn’t even think it was something he could do.
Maybe that’s why you’re looking at him so strangely now, his words stunning you into silence. He can only hope you know he meant them. Then he notices the shy little smile on your face and the way you wrap his jacket a little tighter around yourself and realizes you already do.
“Thank you.”
Another silence falls between you, different from before. This one is a little more intense, the air between you thick with words left unsaid, but it’s still not uncomfortable, at least not yet. Sae knows it’s true, because when he leans back against the railing, you follow, settling into the space beside him and letting your arm press against his without a hint of regret or awkwardness.
“I’m glad you’re here, Sae.” You don’t look at him when you say it, eyes on the city skyline below you, all the twinkling, faraway lights blanketed by the cover of darkness. Your voice is quieter than he’s used to, but still undoubtedly sincere. “And not because of the gift, or because of the compliment, even though those were nice, too— but because of you.”
That catches him off guard. “Because of me?”
“Yeah, because of you.” You turn to look at him then, all easy smiles and undeniable fondness. “Just you. I mean, obviously you didn’t have to be here, and I know you probably haven’t been enjoying yourself too much, but still, it’s nice.”
“What makes you think I’m not enjoying myself?”
“You’re kidding, right? This whole thing is loud music and a big crowd, neither of which you’re fond of. Besides, you told me you hated parties.”
“I don’t hate you.” The words fall from his lips before he can stop them, soft and tender and way too fucking honest. Your eyes widen, even more now than they did when he called you beautiful, and immediately he clears his throat, backtracking. “...I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Oh, so you do hate me, then?”
“What? No, that’s not what I—” He cuts himself off when he catches the smile you try and fail to hide behind your hand, any concern he had about hurting your feelings vanishing as he shoots you a scowl. “Oh, shut up.”
You give up on masking your amusement and begin laughing outright. Normally, the sound would annoy him, especially when done at his expense, but because it’s you, all it does is make him grow more fond, the corners of his lips curling into a smile of his own before he can stop them.
“If it makes you feel any better,” you say, your side pressing against his as you lean in close, whispering like you’re sharing a secret, “I don’t hate you, too.”
It’s nothing like an actual confession, nor can it be considered a real sign that you’ll return his feelings, but Sae hears you say it, watches the way you watch him, and suddenly he knows that if there were ever a time for him to tell you the truth, then this would be it.
But words have never come easily to Sae, so instead of saying it, instead of telling you, he decides to show you.
He brings his hand to your face, cupping your cheek in his palm with a kind of gentleness he didn’t even think himself capable of until now. He swipes his thumb along your bottom lip, his gaze never leaving yours, while you look on, startled by his sudden softness.
He knows as soon as he does it that the way he’s holding you now is something different, something real. He knows you’ll feel it, too, knows it’ll catch you off guard, even if it’s far from the first time he’s touched you. It’s why he isn’t the least bit surprised when your eyes widen, your voice a quiet, stunned murmur as you open your mouth to speak.
“Sae, what are you…”
He doesn’t let you finish that thought, closing what little distance is left between you to press his lips against yours. It’s a softer kiss than he usually goes for, every bit as tender and delicate as the way his hand cradles your cheek and filled with all the sincerity he can manage, all the longing he didn’t even realize he’d been feeling until now.
You’re breathless when he pulls away, lips parted and eyes fluttering back open to meet his, dazed, like you’re seeing him for the first time.
“What was that for?”
For a moment, Sae has no idea how to respond. You’ve always been the most observant person in the room —it’s how you found out about the ankle he sprained last month, having picked up on the strain in his voice the moment he answered your call— so the fact that you still haven’t realized he’s trying to confess his feelings for you is unexpected, to say the least.
Still, he doesn’t let it deter him, letting the hand he uses to cradle your face speak for him, thumb brushing across your cheek in a way he hopes makes things a little clearer.
“What do you think?”
You don’t answer right away, your eyes locked with his own, stunned and searching. You reach up a hand and place it over the one he has on your face, but your touch is hesitant, unsure— much like your voice is when you speak again.
“Honestly, I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be thinking right now.”
Sae is trying very hard to be sensitive for you, but he can’t stop himself from frowning at your words. He knew telling you about his feelings —or, in this case, showing you— wasn’t going to be easy, but he didn’t think it’d be this hard, either. And though he knows it’s probably unfair of him to think kissing you like this will be enough, your reaction isn’t exactly making him feel any better about it.
“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve kissed you.”
“Well, yeah, I know that, but you’ve never—” You cut yourself off, brows furrowing as you fix him with a serious look. “You’ve never kissed me like that.”
“Maybe I just didn’t think you could handle it.”
It’s the wrong thing to say, Sae knows, not to mention completely at odds with what he’s actually feeling, but it’s what comes out of his mouth, anyway. You frown as soon as he says it, eyes narrowing as you shake your head.
“You’re such a dick, Sae.”
“I know.” He moves his hand and brushes a piece of hair away from your face. You let him, your gaze flickering down to his lips then back up again to meet his eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”
And though he knows as well as you do that you should say yes, though you have every right to push him away and demand he explain himself properly, all you do is lean in closer, your lips hovering against his as you answer, voice low and deliberate and just a little breathless, “...No.”
He closes the distance at the same time you do, your lips meeting in another kiss that’s as longing and passionate as the first. It’s just as soft, too, soft in the way you still can’t quite make sense of, but that hardly seems to matter to you now as you tilt your head and let yourself become lost in it, one of your hands going up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.
Then you’re pressing your body against his, your lips moving to nip at his jaw, and it’s all Sae can do to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer, his mouth finding yours once more.
There’s so much more the two of you need to talk about, so much he still has tell you so that you can finally understand the extent of his feelings, but right now, all he can focus on is the feel of your lips against his own and the weight of you in his arms, steady and solid, like it’s where you were meant to be all along.
He lifts a hand to cradle your jaw, and your lips part, tongue sliding against his as he walks the two of you backwards. Your back hits the railing, and you make a needy little sound in the back of your throat that just makes him kiss you harder, one of your legs going up to wrap around his waist.
His lips are halfway down your neck when your phone starts to ring. The two of you ignore it at first, too lost in each other to pay it any real mind, and eventually it stops, just in time for Sae to make his way back up to your lips, his free hand shifting lower to grip at your thigh.
Not even a minute later, the ringing starts back up again, a loud, chiming tone that’s a lot harder to ignore the second time around. Reluctantly, Sae pulls away, though he doesn’t go very far— just enough to meet your eyes, one of his hands still cradling the side of your face.
“You should probably answer that,” he mutters, even as his other hand smooths over the skin of your thigh, his lips hovering just a breath away from your own.
“What?” you ask, dazed and distracted, your eyes still focused on his lips.
“Your phone, dumbass,” he replies, soft and amused, the corners of his mouth curling up at your reaction. “Answer it before your friends start a tequila-fueled search party.”
“Oh, shit— yeah.” The reality of his words spurs you back into action, your eyes widening a fraction as you snap yourself out of your daze. “Good call.”
You work together to untangle yourselves from each other, unwinding your arms from around his neck while Sae guides your leg back to the ground to help you find your footing. When he’s sure you won’t fall, he lets his hands drop and takes a step back, giving you space to answer the call.
You, however, seem to have other plans, your hand shooting out to grab onto the front of his shirt before he can get too far. Your phone is still ringing, even louder now that you’ve pulled it out of your purse, but you don’t seem too concerned about it, your attention focused solely on Sae.
“This’ll be quick,” you reassure him. “So don’t— don’t go anywhere, okay?”
It’s cute, Sae thinks, how earnest you sound when you say it, how serious you look as you ask him to stay. He’s never been good at denying you anything, even before he realized he had feelings for you, and now? Now, it’s the last thing on his mind. “Okay.”
Your expression brightens, lips curling up as you smile, pleased by his response. Then you let go of his shirt and swipe at your phone screen, bringing the device up to your ear.
“Hello?”
There’s a brief pause as you lean against the railing, awaiting a response. Sae doesn’t think much of it, until he hears you speak again.
“Oh, hey, Adrian.”
That’s when the tension in his chest from earlier returns full force, every muscle in Sae’s body locking up the moment your ex-boyfriend’s name leaves your lips. You don’t pick up on it, either, too focused on your conversation to notice the frown on his face or the furrow of his brow.
(He can’t tell if that makes things better or worse.)
“Yeah, I’m okay. I just stepped out for a minute,” you continue, oblivious to the tension in his frame, the scoff he just barely manages to hide. “No, I’m not, I promise— I’m with a friend.”
A friend, you say, as if that’s all you expect from him, all you want him to be. Just a friend, as if everything that’s happened between you tonight doesn’t matter.
Needless to say, it doesn’t sit well with him at all.
Is that why you told him you were okay with him missing your party? Why you looked so surprised when he showed up anyway? Because you wanted to spend the night with your ex-boyfriend instead?
Earlier, Sae thought that the longing and urgency that poured from your lips as you kissed him back meant something, that you could actually want him the way he wants you. Not just as a friend or a hookup or whatever the hell it is you’ve been doing this whole time, but as something more, something real.
He understands now that it was all just wishful thinking on his part, a fantasy he should’ve known better than to indulge. He feels whatever softness you managed to bring out of him fade away, and with it his desire to open his heart and confess his feelings for you.
The logical part of his brain, the part he usually has no trouble listening to, knows he’s overreacting. It isn’t fair of him to assume there’s something going on with you and Adrian just because you answered his phone call, just like it isn’t fair of him to assume you’ll understand his feelings without him actually talking to you about them.
Still, it’s hard to be logical when all Sae can focus on is the churn of his stomach and the ache in his chest as he watches you chat with your ex. It’s a little easier than watching you interact with him in person, Sae supposes, but not by much. He still feels ready to throw up by the end of it, frustrated and annoyed for reasons he still isn’t sure how to explain to you.
Thankfully, you don’t stay on the phone for long. Your conversation with Adrian only lasts a minute or two, and then you’re hanging up the call, tucking your phone back into your purse without any further distractions.
You reach for Sae the moment your hands are free, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his. It’s muscle memory for him to open his arms and welcome you, his hands moving to rest at your waist before he can stop himself.
“Now,” you say with a smile, earnest and eager as you lean in close, “where were we?”
You kiss him, then, determined to pick up exactly where you left off, your lips warm and soft as they move against his own. And if it were any other day, then Sae would be kissing you back without a second thought, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you even closer.
But that was before your phone call with Adrian, before you laughed and said Sae was just your friend, right after he kissed you and held you in a way he thought would make it clear that he wanted more than that. Now it’s all he can think about, all that frustration and bitterness he felt earlier —and jealousy, he realizes now, begrudgingly, unfortunately— settling into his chest in the worst way.
It doesn’t take you long to notice his hesitance. You feel his lack of response and pull back, a look of concern on your face as you meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
If Sae were better, more honest, he’d tell you the truth. He’d tell you how much he hates the idea of you and your ex reconnecting, how he can’t stand seeing you with Adrian or anyone else for that matter, not because he actually knows him or because he doesn’t trust your judgment, but because he wants you to be with him instead.
But Sae can’t do that. In fact, just the mere thought of putting himself out there, of allowing himself to be that vulnerable without knowing exactly what’s going on inside your head makes him feel like he’s going to be sick, so he doesn’t.
He just shuts down entirely, closing himself off the way he always does whenever he starts feeling more than he knows how to handle. It’s probably the worst thing he can do at this moment, especially when it comes to you, but that’s of little consequence to him when he feels as raw and hopelessly human as he does right now.
“You should get back inside,” is what he tells you instead, distancing himself in the only way he knows how, though it’s the exact opposite of what his heart wants. “Your friends are waiting for you.”
At first, the bitterness in his tone is lost on you. Your lips curve into a smirk, your voice playful and coy as you lower your hands to his neck and tug at the collar of his shirt. “They can wait a little longer.”
You lean in to kiss him again, pulling on his collar so he can meet you halfway, your tongue sliding along his bottom lip. He ends up kissing you back despite himself, parting his lips so your tongue can meet his before he has the chance to think better of it.
It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to remember he’s supposed to be distancing himself from you, too lost in the feeling of your lips moving against his to recall why he was so upset in the first place.
Eventually, though, he finds it in himself to pull away, turning his head before you have the chance to kiss him again. “Something tells me Adrian wouldn’t agree with you.”
This time, you do notice the bitterness in his voice. You loosen your grip on his collar, drawing back to give him a funny look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just forget it.” Sae lets his hands drop, releasing his hold on your waist. You’re so caught off guard, you don’t even complain, your own hands falling back down to your sides as he takes a step away from you. “You can leave my jacket with Oliver. I’ll get it from him later.”
“Wait, what?” You don’t bother to hide your confusion at his sudden shift in mood, eyes wide as you stare at him in disbelief. “You’re leaving?”
“You said it yourself.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, the smile he sends you wry and humorless. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”
“Yeah, well, neither is being passive aggressive, but you seem to be doing a great job of that right now.” You cross your arms over your chest and frown, your normally relaxed features twisting into a scowl. You’re definitely annoyed by his behavior, but he can see in your eyes that you’re hurt by it, too. He thought seeing that would make him feel better, but it doesn’t. “Why are you being like this, Sae? A minute ago, we were totally fine, and now you’re acting like you’re mad at me or something.”
“I’m not acting like anything.”
“Yes, you are, and I want to know why. I mean, all I did was answer one phone call, so why are you acting so— oh. Oh, my god. Is that why you’re mad at me? Because of the phone call?”
Sae turns to scoff at you, acting as if he couldn’t care less, even though the problem is that he very much does. “You really think I give a shit that you spoke to your ex?”
“Why does it matter that he’s my ex?” You tilt your head, then, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, until slowly —despite his best efforts— the realization begins to dawn on you. All at once, your confusion disappears, replaced by a wide-eyed, knowing look that makes whatever hope he had of avoiding this conversation vanish. “Itoshi Sae, are you jealous?”
You’re right, of course —frustratingly enough, you kind of always are— but Sae thinks he’d rather chew concrete than admit it, especially when he’s already resigned himself to burying his feelings.
It’s why he kisses his teeth at your words, his lip curling up in disdain. “Tch, you wish.”
“Liar. You’re jealous as hell. In fact, I bet the whole reason you were even out here in the first place is because you saw me dance with him and got all sulky about it. That’s how jealous you are.” You’re confident enough about it to dare to take a step forward, raising an eyebrow as you meet his eyes with an expectant look. “Am I wrong?”
All Sae can do is scowl at you, irritated by both your smugness and the fact that it does nothing to change the way he feels about you. “You’re a pain in the ass, is what you are.”
And because you’re you, of course his words don’t offend you in the slightest. If anything, your satisfaction only grows, your lips curving into a smirk that’s as pleased as it is insufferable. “I still haven’t heard a ‘no.’”
Sae grimaces but remains silent, half because he’s stubborn and half because you aren’t wrong. You’ve always been smart, too smart, really —it’s one of the things he likes most about you— so of course you were able to pick up on his jealousy, despite his attempts at denying it.
He expects you to give him a hard time over it, maybe even chew him out for how immature and ridiculous he’s been acting as a result, but you surprise him by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. When he doesn’t push you away, you take that as a sign to continue, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.
“You know you don’t have to be jealous, right?” Your voice is tender and comforting when you speak. There’s a certain seriousness in it, too, a firmness that lets him know how much you mean it. He wishes it didn’t affect him as much as it does. “Adrian and I used to be a thing, sure, but it’s not like that between us anymore. He and I are just friends now.”
“You mean the same way you and I are just friends?”
“Oh, wow, you really are jealous. Is that why you showed up tonight? You wanted to make sure there was nothing going on between me and my ex?”
“It couldn’t matter to me even if there was.” He tries not to sound bitter when he says it, but his efforts are hardly effective, the half-smile he forces tight-lipped and strained, even as he moves his hands to settle on your hips. “It’s not like I’m your boyfriend.”
“I didn’t think you’d ever want to be,” you admit, low and honest. And maybe he’s just imagining it, but he swears there’s a hint of disappointment in your voice, too, a sadness he isn’t quite sure how to make sense of. “I mean, back when we started all this, neither of us wanted a relationship. Has that changed?”
It takes all Sae has to keep himself from ripping his own hair out, because haven’t you been paying attention at all? Of course it’s changed. Do you really think he’d be here fighting with himself and agonizing over how to confess to you if it hadn’t?
He wants to tell you as much, can feel the words right there on the tip of his tongue, but his pride keeps him from saying them out loud, at least not until he knows exactly how you feel, too.
“Has it changed for you?”
“Not so fast, hotshot. I asked you first.”
He sighs. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously.” The look you give him is as unapologetic as it is pointed, the sternness in your voice leaving little room for argument. “You almost walked away from me on my birthday, asshole. The least you can do now is answer my question.”
It’s a fair point, he knows, especially after everything he’s put you through tonight, but Sae is nothing if not completely awful when it comes to verbalizing his feelings. He knows it most likely won’t be enough to satisfy you, but he gives your hips a gentle squeeze anyway, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer. “Isn’t this answer enough?”
“Not even close,” you tell him flatly, every bit as unimpressed as he thought you’d be. “I want you to tell me how you really feel about me. And I want you to say it with your words, not just hold me or kiss me and expect me to read between the lines.”
“Words aren’t really my strong suit,” he mutters, more honest now than he’s been all night, averting his gaze to the floor.
“Try anyway.” You lift a hand and run your fingers through his hair the way you know he likes. It’s disarming enough to have him meeting your gaze once more. Your eyes are soft, searching. Patient, too, despite him, the way you always seem to be. “Come on, Sae. Is it really that hard for you to be honest with me?”
He laughs, though there isn’t any humor to it. “You have no idea.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you okay with me dating other people?”
“Definitely not.”
“Why?”
Sae narrows his eyes, shooting you a flat look, because you know. You have to know. After everything he’s said, everything he’s done, there’s no way you haven’t pieced it together by now. “You already know why.”
“Oh, I do,” you confirm, smug and irritating as ever, smile bright and eyes knowing, “but I want to hear you say it, anyway.” You brush his hair out of his eyes, and he watches as your expression morphs into something softer, something fond and affectionate that makes his heart stutter the way it’s only ever done around you. “For me?”
And though it isn’t easy for him, though it goes against all of his better instincts and is quite possibly the last thing he’s ever wanted to do— for you, he decides to be sincere. “Fine.”
He takes a deep breath and forces himself to find the words, urged on by the weight of you in his arms and the tender, encouraging way you’re looking at him. It’s daunting for him to be this honest, not to mention completely unnerving, especially when you both know how bad he is with words in general— but for you, he’s willing to try.
“...I like you. I really, really like you, as in I have feelings for you, and this thing we’ve been doing, this casual, no strings, whatever the hell it is— it’s not enough for me anymore. And I want— I want to be with you. For real, this time, if— if you’ll have me.”
Sae snaps his mouth closed the moment he’s able to get the words out, bracing himself for your reaction. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting from you, exactly —rejection, reciprocation, maybe some backwards, nonsensical combination of them both— but he’s determined to be prepared for it regardless, determined to appear unaffected, even if it means he has to grit his teeth to do so.
But then you’re cupping his face in your hands, gaze soft and open and filled with the kind of affection he never once imagined he’d be on the receiving end of, and any notion he had of remaining unaffected is promptly cast aside, replaced by the warmth of your touch and the tender, fond way you look at him.
You lean in, and it’s all Sae can do to close his eyes as you press your lips against his in a slow, gentle kiss. The gesture is soft and surprisingly chaste, soft like the way he kissed you earlier, back when he was trying to communicate the extent of his feelings. It doesn’t last very long, but it doesn’t need to, not when he can feel it linger even after you pull away, delicate and deliberate, important in all the ways that matter.
When he opens his eyes, he finds that you’re already looking at him, your lips pulled into that soft little smile he doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of. Then you wrap your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his.
“I want to be with you, too,” you say, steady and sure, without a hint of regret or uncertainty, and Sae swears something in his chest cracks wide open, every bit of affection he’s ever felt for you pouring out until it’s all he knows, all he can feel. “As way more than just casual. I have for a while now.”
“You have?” The confession catches him off guard, makes his eyes widen a fraction as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze properly. “Since when?”
“Since your away game in France.” You say it naturally, doubtlessly, without any of the hesitation he would’ve had to grapple with to do the same thing. Not for the first time, he finds himself envying how easy you make it look, how effortless it is for you to be so honest and upfront about your feelings. “You were only gone for two weeks, but it felt like ages. Then you showed up to my apartment with pastries from that bakery your manager suggested, and they were amazing, but all I could think about was how happy I was that you were back. That’s when I knew I was in trouble.”
For a moment, Sae has no idea what to say. His away game in France was almost two months ago. You’ve had feelings for him since back then? If that was the case, then why didn’t you tell him? Had he really made you feel like you couldn’t talk to him about it?
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I wanted to, but every time I thought about bringing it up, I’d remember what we said about keeping it casual. I figured if I said something, it’d scare you off. And I didn’t— I didn’t want to lose you. I still don’t.”
You look down, then, averting your gaze, uncharacteristically nervous as you fidget with the buttons on his shirt. And as Sae watches you standing there in front of him, quiet and apprehensive in a way he’s never seen you before, he wonders if maybe he’s not the only one who’s been reluctant to be vulnerable, after all.
Things would be different if either one of you had said something sooner, he knows. If you’d been brave enough to let the other in. He imagines it would’ve saved you both a lot of time, knowing that it wasn’t just one-sided, that your feelings were returned.
But you’re still here. You both are, and that’s more than enough, he thinks. It’s everything.
(After all, Sae’s never wanted anything the way he wants you.)
It’s why he takes your chin in his hand, urging you to look up at him. For once, you don’t put up much of a fight, your eyes flickering up to meet his own.
That’s when he kisses you, soft and sweet, passionate and patient the way you’ve always been with him, the way he knows you deserve to have returned. He kisses you like he means it, like you have all the time in the world, because right now, you do. He kisses you, and he hopes you feel the promise in it, the one that this time, he won’t hesitate to say out loud.
“You don’t have to worry about losing me, dummy,” he tells you as soon as you break apart for air, breathless and sincere as he presses his forehead against yours. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
You smile at him, then, knowing how much he means it, bright and beaming as you take his hand in yours and lace your fingers together.
“I’m not going anywhere, either,” you promise, and the best part is, you don’t.
When the two of you go back inside to rejoin the party, you do it together, your hand tucked securely into his, your fingers intertwined. You’re still wearing his jacket, still smiling at him in that warm, easy way of yours. He knows now for sure it’s something he’ll never get tired of, knows he’s going to spend the rest of the foreseeable future making sure he deserves it.
When your friends see you walk in holding hands with Sae, chaos ensues. Thankfully, the two of you are more than prepared for it, braving their onslaught of wolf-whistles and too-personal questions without missing a beat.
Somehow, Oliver and Aina are the loudest of the bunch, hooting and hollering in matching degrees of shock and excitement, despite already knowing what the two of you have been up to these past few months. Shidou isn’t far behind them, though he does lament Sae’s new taken status. He wraps an arm around each of your shoulders and very seriously offers himself up to the two of you as a willing volunteer for a threesome, should you ever find yourselves in the market for one.
You and Sae take it all in stride, enduring their teasing and answering their least invasive questions until finally you decide to use your birthday authority to put an end to their pestering, declaring in no uncertain terms that they all go back to celebrating. They complain about it, of course, well-meaning and meddlesome as they are, but still they do as you ask, cooing and waggling their eyebrows at you as they take their leave.
“I’m sorry our friends are all unhinged weirdos,” you apologize as soon as everyone else is gone, blunt and serious enough to make Sae laugh. You’re sitting in his lap on the couch, the two of you tucked away in a dark corner of the lounge in an attempt at finding some reprieve from all the chatter and excitement of the night. “And that they have no concept of what it means to mind their own business.”
He hums in acknowledgement, reassuring you with a kiss to your shoulder that there’s nothing you need to apologize for. You smile at the gesture and drape your arm around his shoulders in turn, using your other hand to press your palm against his cheek and make him look up at you.
It’s only then he notices the slight crease in your brow, the worry you’re trying your best to play off with a carefree smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “They didn’t scare you away, did they?”
“Not even close.” He shakes his head and squeezes at your hip, taking your hand in his to press a kiss against your palm. “You’re gonna have to do a lot more than that to get rid of me.”
“Good.” You wind your fingers through his, that smile he likes —maybe even loves— curving its way onto your lips. Happiness has always been a fickle thing for Sae, floating just outside of his reach, but he sees the way you look at him, feels the warmth of your skin against his, and he knows— it’s here. It’s you. It’s always been you. “I’m glad.”
Yeah, Sae thinks, shifting to meet you halfway as you lean down for his lips, only this time he doesn’t have to worry about hiding or burying his feelings. This time, he doesn’t have to do anything at all except kiss you, the girl he’s wanted for too long, the one he finally gets to call his. So am I.
Written by: Dawn Taglist link
More Posts from Maboiisuga and Others
Reblogs and shares appreciated
LITTLE DARK AGE
haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou
summary: eight years later, you finally return to tokyo and find yourself caught in the middle of a violent gang war between the two most ruthless criminal organizations of tokyo’s underworld, forced to choose between blood and love.
genre: bonten timeskip, angst, forbidden romance, childhood friends -> strangers -> lovers, 18+ MDNI
warnings: fem!reader, gang violence, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, explicit smut, polyamory, profanity, MCD, unedited, MTBA
update schedule: every other wednesday
status: incomplete
CHAPTER Ⅰ. I’M GOING BACK TO 505
CHAPTER Ⅱ. HOUSE OF MEMORIES
CHAPTER Ⅲ. ONE IS PRETTY BUT THE OTHER LIES
CHAPTER Ⅳ. CAUSE YOU WERE CRUEL AND I’M A FOOL
CHAPTER Ⅴ. YOU’RE GONNA GO FAR, KID
CHAPTER Ⅵ. KNOW THAT IF YOU HIDE, IT DOESN’T GO AWAY
CHAPTER Ⅶ. AND YOU’LL NEVER BE PURE AGAIN
CHAPTER Ⅷ. CAUSE I KNOW YOU GET DEJA VU
TBA…
general taglist: @touyasghosty @novaresque@sano-obsessed @sugusshi @haitanihime @adeptiixiao @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @zuuki @daiserenade @hanmascult @4leafcloverwithawhitecraneforyou @kazufuyusluv @imkumichan @aces-high @marism @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @obsessiontoanime @prettyiolanthe @blvebcrry @r-xochitl @savagemickey03 @lundabean @kuroolv @shizunxie @senjuasuna
reblogs for boost are always appreciated ^.^
KINKTOBER MASTERLIST additional tws added when the fic is posted !! proceed with caution, DARK CONTENT
≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡
SET 1: 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐔
001. IWAIZUMI ♡༘ TROPHY tw lobotomised reader, noncon 002. ATSUMU ♡༘ DECAY
SET 2: 𝐉𝐉𝐊
003. TOJI ♡༘ SPARKSTONE 004. MEGUMI ♡༘ CADAVER
SET 3: 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐑𝐄𝐕
005. KAKUCHOU ♡༘ DROOLING 006. SANZU ♡༘ EXALT
SET 4: 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊
007. NAGI ♡༘ STAR 008. SHIDOU ♡༘ WHITE WHALE
SET 5: 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒
009. NICOLAS GANGSTA ♡༘ SWOLLEN 010. TRIGUN ♡༘ DRAIN
.`♱🪦ѻ 𝖉0𝖑𝖑 ♱’¡!
≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: THESE FICS ALL CONTAIN TRIGGERING SUBJECTS. PROCEED WITH CAUTION
All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.
Thief XVI
This was emotionally draining to write 😭
My Patreon [for early access to chapters and extra content]
Summary: The survivalists of a horror movie are always at the grossest disadvantage. The monster can see them, but they won’t see him until it’s too late.
Pairing: Yandere!Dabi x Psychologist!Reader.
Previous / Next
Warning: 18+, angst, burning, cheating, delusional thinking, hurt/comfort, budding mindbreak, mourning, trauma, victim-blaming, yandere behaviour.
Keep reading
:))
His | 2 | Yandere Bakugou x Reader
Chapter 1 | Chapter 3
Story Masterlist
Summary: You’re a petty villain, and your new villain-career is forced to an immediate halt when none other than Ground Zero captures you. He’s convinced that you’re in need of his help to change your tainted lifestyle, and you’re not going to tell him otherwise.
WARNINGS: ABUSE, INJURIES
Ground Zero’s grip on (Y/n)’s wrists twisted, shifting his hold on her and placing her back in the locked position she was previously, holding her arms together behind her with one hand. She felt Ground Zero’s weight shift as he reached for his belt once more. The clang of metal was behind her and immediately knew she was being detained. The gravel felt rough against her chin as she grimaced, looking forward at the dark alley her and the hero were alone in. She felt like freedom was just a few more paces away — maybe if she had been faster, or just had a quirk…!
Who was she kidding.
Ground Zero was not known for his mercy. He was not known for his compassion. He was not known for his gracious nature.
He was known for his ruthlessness. He was known for his hostility. He was known as the symbol of strength, and by God, did it show by just how bruising his grip was on her arms.
Keep reading
Let's Get Physical
WARNINGS: yandere, stalking, possessiveness, nsfw, dub/noncon, non-consenual implications, toxic relationship, implied imprisonment, misogyny, manipulation, gaslighting, depression, anxiety
read at your own discretion.
yandere ! BAKUGOU KATSUKI X READER
“Fuck–you tryna break my damn fingers off?”
“Don’t be a baby. Besides, shouldn’t you be used to this by now?” She rolled her eyes playfully, smiling as her hands worked at his own, stretching his fingers backwards, and pressed her thumbs to his palm.
“Quit grinnin’, creep.” He sat cross-legged in front of her on the floor of his home gym, studying her as she worked.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her eyes narrowed in concentration, and she stifled a smirk when he hissed. “Are you sure you even know what a grin is? Can’t say I’ve ever seen you give one.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Still, a smile tugged at his lips, “Y’know, this could constitute abuse of power.”
“It’s called physical therapy, you manchild.” She placed his hand down on his thigh, and picked up the other to start her work, fingers massaging across the palm.
He puffed out his cheeks, “It’s called torture,” Grumbling as he averted his gaze.
“It’s called, Mr. Big Strong Number Two went and snapped his tendons tryna blow up an entire villain army by himself.”
“That’s a funny way a’ sayin’ thank you.”
“If I recall correctly, you were thanked plenty three months ago–when it happened–if your popularity numbers are any indication.” She caught sight of the twist at his lips, and gave a soft smile. “But, I suppose I can stand to add another. Thank you.”
He coughed awkwardly, red dusting his cheeks, “Yeah. Whatever.”
They settled into a comfortable silence, the occasional grunt and hiss interrupting, but not disrupting the peace. She placed his hand down, and went to sort through her gym bag on the floor beside them.
Pulling out a stretch band, she wrapped it around his fingers. He knew the drill by now, and as he began to stretch, brows furrowed as he strained, she let out a happy giggle.
“See! You can hold about three inches further; you’re getting better. Just a few more sessions with me, and a healing quirk can do the rest!” She clapped her hands together, and though he felt like screaming in frustration at the effort it took, when he caught sight of the glimmer in her eyes, he softened, letting out a sigh.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t go expectin’ a five star Yelp review or somethin’ now.” She caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes, and a sly smile spread on her lips.
“Weren’t you banned from Yelp after–”
“Shut the fuck up.” Though, the look on his face told her he wasn’t too torn up about the jab.
And the comfortable silence resumed as the clock ticked by. He couldn’t remember when this had become familiar–when she had become familiar.
But he was sure that had he been forced to spend three months straight with any other stranger–or friend, for that matter–he would have thrown himself and them from his penthouse window by now.
As they went through the motions, some easier than others with his…injury, he found himself sneaking glances at her face. He noticed a lot about her in these past months. Her nose always twitched whenever she’d present him a new technique to try; he’d chalked it up to nerves–cute–cute, that she thought to be nervous, as if he’d fail, he corrected himself.
And right now, with her shoulders swaying back and forth to an inaudible song as she watched him stretch, he noted comfort, content. Her head bobbed with the motions––little thing never could sit still, could she?--and he found himself fighting a smile. Though, it fell pretty quickly when he saw her glance at the wall clock, and fumble to stuff her equipment into her bag.
“Oh my god, it’s late–I should–Good work today!” She gathered her things, and his brows furrowed as he watched her. There was a twist in his chest as he saw her scramble–where was she going in such a hurry?
“Where ya goin’?” He never was great at poker, but he still cursed himself for the way she furrowed her brows, catching the irritated edge in his voice.
She sighed, brushing it off as his usual grumpiness, “As lovely company as you are, it’s well past our time, and I have another appointment in the morning.”
“Since when?” Logically he knew that he couldn’t be her only client, but to hear her say it ground his nerves. After all, he was sure that it had been just the two of them for a while now.
“It’s always one injury or another. Y’know, for a job that means helping others, you heroes are pretty shit at taking care of yourselves.” She giggled, and while the sound eased his nerves, there was a nagging at the back of his mind.
“Hey, you eaten yet?” He trailed after her into the foyer, and a part of his brain mocked him for how pathetic he must sound–him, of all people, begging some quirkless nobody–no, not nobody, but still–begging her to stay.
She paused, turning to glance at him; a sheepish look washed over her face as she huffed an embarrassed chuckle, hand reaching to scratch at the back of her head. His eyes narrowed, but as he went to take her bag from her shoulder, she pulled from his grip.
“I’m sure I can grab a granola bar or something from the convenience store on my block, don’t worry about–”
“Fuckin’ dumbass, now who’s shit at takin’ care a’ themselves?” He ignored the knit in her brow, and moved towards the kitchen, “I got tons of shit leftover. Sit. Eat.”
She sighed, and brushed him off with another chuckle, “Maybe another time. I really should get some sleep. And so should you–rest helps the healing process. I’ll see you in a few days.”
He watched her for a beat, before deciding. He nodded, “Yeah, yeah. See ya.”
She flashed a smile and a little wave before heading out the door. He waited for a bit after it clicked shut, watching the hands tick by on the clock.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
He shuffled towards his closet, throwing an old hoodie over his head with minimal strain. This isn’t creepy. He reminded himself. Idiot’s gonna get herself killed walkin’ home this late.
His face heated as he pulled up the hood. Wearin’ those spandex shorts–honestly, she was lucky he was a fuckin’ gentleman. He huffed, and headed for the door, following after her with the confidence of a man who had done so too many times before.
.♡.
“Damn, I’m jealous, if I knew all it took for some alone time with a bitch that hot was to snap my tendons–”
“Don’t be fucking gross.” He scoffed, shoving the other blonde, eyebrow twitching at the shit-eating grin his friend flashed. Maybe this was a bad idea; he scanned the men around the breakroom table–fuck, he shoulda just figured it out himself.
The other man raised his hands in mock surrender, “All I’m sayin’, bro, is if I were you, I’d a’ made a move the second a piece of ass that sweet walked itself through my door.” He turned back to the udon in front of him, digging in, broth splashing messily across his face.
He scrunched his nose in disgust, “Yeah, well I ain’t you. I’m not jumpin’ in the pants of the first bitch who opens ‘er legs for me.” He played with his own chopsticks, frustrated with the dismissal.
“Good thing too,” The raven haired man laughed, “Sparky over here’s probably got every disease in the book with the holes he sticks his dick in.” He tossed an arm around the other blonde, whose face twisted in mock hurt.
“Least I can get it wet, Tape Boy.” The two shoved at each other, laughing, but the click of a tongue brought his attention to the unamused redhead at the end of the table.
“But she isn’t just another hole,” The shark-toothed man’s lip twisted at the last word, “This is the first time you’ve actually liked a chick. You should–”
“Who the fuck says I like her?” One glance at the unimpressed look from his friend had his face heat as he coughed, averting his gaze.
“You haven’t said shit since the incident,” The man began, “And the first thing we hear from you about the whole thing is if we know your physical therapist.”
“She works with heroes; sue me for thinkin’ you idiots might a’ met or somethin’.”
“Okay, but why are you askin’ about her schedule?”
He clicked his tongue against his teeth, shoving his chair back, “Forget it.” As he went to leave, the other two men jeered.
“Aww, come back! Embrace the feelings, bro!”
“Beautiful. Our little boy’s growin’ up!”
.♡.
He stormed into his office, huffing. Fuck it. If he was gonna be here, he might as well get some paperwork done. He collapsed in his chair, head to his hands as he groaned. The sound of the door opening caught his attention.
“You really need to stop stormin’ outta places before people can respond.” He rolled his eyes, ignoring the redhead, and turned to shuffle through the mass of papers on his desk.
“Yeah, well Tweedle Dumb and Dumber needa learn to keep their damn mouths shut.”
“Ah. They don’t mean any harm,” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “Locker room talk, y’know?”
He scoffed, “What do you want?” Mood soured, his patience was running thin.
“I think I know that client you were talkin’ about–the appointment she had today.”
Now that caught his interest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But yer not gonna like the answer.”
.♡.
Bang! Bang!
“Oi, open up.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“I know you’re here, you bastard. Open the fuck up!”
BANG! BA–
“It’s five in the morning. I was asleep.” The man in question responded as the door creaked open, his red and white hair mussed, and sticking up in odd places.
He rubbed at his eyes, meeting the other’s gaze, much too intense for five in the morning–though, did the word calm ever really exist in the ash blonde’s vocabulary?
“You break any bones? Strain a muscle? What? ‘Cause from here I can’t see shit wrong with you.”
“I’m confused. Should ‘shit be wrong with me?’” Jesus fucking Christ. He wanted to rip his hair out; there was obtuse, and then there was just plain annoying. In the years he’d known this man, he’d managed to toe the line perfectly. A talent, truly.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “You wouldn’t be hangin’ around my woman if it wasn’t…or you tellin’ me there’s another reason she’s been showin’ up at your door?”
“You have a woman?”
Are you fucking kid–
“I’m kidding.” Coulda fooled him. He met bi-colored eyes, dull as ever, and mouth set in a straight line.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re fuckin’ hilarious, now–”
A yawn interrupted him, “I’ve been informed of the situation,” Situation? “Nerve damage. Ice quirks will do that after a while. I apologize if I overstepped in my attempt to keep all my fingers intact.” A couple stiff, discolored digits waved in his face.
Yeah, sarcasm didn’t suit him. “Fuck off.” It was half a joke, but still–
“You showed up at my house.” Okay, he’d had enough. He turned to leave, but the other cleared his throat. “Though, a small piece of advice–”
“Advice?” He was getting angry again, which only flared up as a smirk formed on the other man’s face.
“Poor thing’s convinced she may have a stalker.” Shit. “I’m sure as the Number Two, you’ll be able to make her feel safe, won’t you?” Slimy bastard.
He huffed, turning away, “Yeah, yeah. Fuck off back to sleep, ya damn space heater, I got it.” There was a hum as the door clicked shut.
He was left with his thoughts as he jogged down the sidewalk–might as well get his morning run in–but, still, why hadn’t she told him about her stalker? I mean…she trusted him, didn’t she? Ugh. This was getting annoying. He needed a plan.
.♡.
“Fuck is that?”
She hissed a bit as she took his hand into her own, palm stinging a bit from underneath its bandage.
“Oh, nothing,” She smiled sheepishly, “It’s what I get for letting my friend talk me into buying one of those fancy reflex hammers.”
At the tilt of his head and furrow of his brow, she clarified, “Real sharp at the tip, ads say that’s what makes it sleek.” She chuckled a bit, and he hummed in response. She watched him for a bit, his jaw flexing a bit in frustration.
“You’ve been awfully quiet today–what, no complaints to lodge?” She giggled, but the furrow in his brow had her creasing her own. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
He snapped back to reality, pulling his gaze from where her fingers worked at his hands, “Sorry, just distracted, I guess.”
“That’s alright. What’s going on?”
He sighed, “Stopped by the office the other day–’parently crime’s been shootin’ up all around Japan.”
“And you’re upset you can’t help out yet?”
“‘S fuckin’ frustratin’, being the Number Two, and sittin’ around all day gettin’ massages while there are murderers and rapists and stalkers runnin’ fuckin’ rampant in the streets.”
She swallowed, but tried to neutralize her expression, giving a weary smile, “Oh? Lots of stalkers nowadays?” She focused her gaze back on his hands.
“Been tons a’ reports all over the city–victims are–”
“Victims?” The hiss from his mouth told her she was pressing too hard, “Sorry, sorry! Just…it’s all a bit scary isn’t it? And victims usually means…” She released his hand to sort through her bag, picking through the equipment, handing him a grip strengthener, and turned her gaze to meet his own.
“Nah, ‘s not your fault; I shouldn’t be freakin’ you out with all the details–”
“No! I mean, no. It’s okay. I want–I mean, I’m curious–what are the details?”
He gave her a look, and she cursed herself for her slip up. In the months she’d known this man, she’d realized he was one of the most annoyingly observant people she’d ever met, and while she usually found his borderline anal attention to detail endearing, she’d really hoped to keep this from him–he had more than enough on his plate already–to make him worry over someone like her would be selfish.
“The fuck’s wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Yer actin’ like you’re bein’ stalked or some shit.” Fuck. Did he have some second quirk? Could he read minds?
“What? No, I’m not. I’m just…curious.” Yeah. Thank god she hadn’t gone into acting. At the unimpressed quirk of his brow she sighed, “I mean…It’s probably nothing, I’m sure I’m just–I’m just paranoid or something.”
“What the fuck? And you didn’t tell me?”
“It’s probably nothing! And..well, you’re so busy–recovery, and tryna get back in the field so you can…I just didn’t want to bother you.” She took a piece of hair in her hands, twirling and tugging as she avoided his gaze. “It’d be unprofessional of me to–”
“You gotta report that shit, dumbass!” The grip strengthener creaked with the strength at which his hand clutched at it. “‘’Sides, it’s not botherin’ me,'' Her cheeks colored, “It’s my job.” Oh. Right.
She wrapped another contraption around his fingers, gesturing for him to stretch as she took the other from his grip, “I’ve got it covered. Promise,” She sighed, “And I did report it, I just figured you had enough on your plate. Seriously, don’t worry about it.”
He rolled his eyes, “I’m walkin’ you home,” She opened her mouth to protest, “Shut the fuck up. I ain’t askin’.”
She sighed, but nodded,“Okay.” Her chest warmed a bit as a small smile pulled at her lips.
And the silence resumed, tense, but not with awkward or anxious energy, she realized. She snuck a few glances at him throughout the rest of their session. He really was a good man, wasn’t he? And, catching sight of the sharp curve of his jaw–handsome, too.
She chided herself for thinking so, but really–what was the harm in thoughts?--it was simply an observation, nothing more.
.♡.
“It’s fuckin’ efficient. ‘Nuf said.”
“It’s fuckin’ geriatric is what it is.” She laughed, “What twenty-six year old goes to sleep at eight p.m.?” She craned her head up to catch sight of the red dusting his cheeks as they walked down the street.
“Call me geriatric all you want, but don’t come cryin’ to me when you’re fifty and yer face is saggin’ cause you never got a good night’s sleep.” She gasped, hitting him lightly on the shoulder as a smile tugged at his lips.
“You should know better than to call a woman wrinkly.”
“Good advice. Lemme know when you see one.”
She smacked his arm again as the two of them laughed, settling once she caught sight of the setting sun. “Thank you. For walking me home; it really–I mean, it’s–”
“Stop thankin’ me for givin’ a shit about you, you fuckin’ creep,” Her cheeks colored as she avoided his gaze, and he sighed, ruffling her hair a bit, “‘Sides, someone’s gotta look out for you; you’re sure as hell not gonna do it for yourself.”
She gasped in mock offense, “I’ll have you know, when I was younger, I was a certified blue belt in my–”
“Isn’t that really fuckin’ low?”
“Shut up,” They laughed lightly, and she turned to him as they came upon her doorstep. “Well, this is me.”
There was an awkward pause, and he coughed lightly, avoiding her gaze, “Right. Cool. I guess I’ll see ya–”
“You wanna come in?” She surprised herself with the words, but the red coloring his cheeks warmed her chest and eased her nerves. This was fine. They were friends.
“You sure?” Despite all the rumors and all the gossip, he really was a gentleman. Well, she’d come to know that these past months, but like this was an entirely different matter. She wasn’t quite sure why, though.
“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t eaten yet–figured you might wanna hang out and yell at me for a bit about it.” She laughed lightly, pushing the keys into the lock, and brushed her hair from her eyes.
“I’ll do you one better.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I’ll cook you dinner, and yell at you about it.” She opened her mouth, but a devious smirk spread across his face, “‘Less yer one of those losers with an empty fridge, and cabinet full a’ junk.”
She pushed the door open, “How dare you,” She flashed a cheeky smile as she led him inside, “Instant ramen is the food of the gods.”
.♡.
“You need to be more careful!” She chided as she wiped at the cut on his face, “You’ve only been back in the field for a month, you can’t just–”
A hiss interrupted her, and she pulled the alcoholic wipe away from his cheek as he sighed, “You rather I let a building fall on a buncha kids?”
She rolled her eyes, but resumed her work, “No. But, I’d rather you have at least an ounce of self-preservation–besides, I’m not sure how many wraps and casts and wipes we’ve got left in the budget.”
A sly smirk spread on his face, “Oh. I see,” He readjusted her in his lap as she wiped at his wounds, “Yer in physical therapist mode right now, huh? And here I thought my girl might actually be worried about me for a second.”
She smacked lightly at his arm, setting down her wipes to peck at his cheek, “I can be in physical therapist mode and girlfriend mode when it means you’ve gone off and gotten yourself hurt again.”
She rolled off his lap, tossing the bloody tissues in the trash as he trailed after her into the bathroom. She opened the cabinets, bending over to sort through the shelves. He grabbed her by the hips, and she shoved him off playfully.
“Not now, horny. I’m looking for a wrap.”
“Ah. Think we’re out.”
She stood, smacking him lightly, “See! What was I just saying?”
“I’ll head to the store in the morning, just come to bed,” He groaned, turning her in his arms, “‘M tired.”
She gave him a skeptical look before glancing down briefly, “I think your little friend may disagree.”
“Who you callin’ little?” His hands snaked down, pinching at the swell in her ass as she squealed, pushing out of his arms, and trailed into the bedroom. She glanced around, stopping once she spotted his closet door.
“Hey, where ya goin’?” He stalked after her.
“I don’t trust you. I’m gonna check for more first aid supplies.” She walked towards the closet, and, following her gaze, he pulled her by the wrist, bouncing her backwards onto the bed. She yelped as he collapsed on top of her, “What the hell? Get off! I can’t–can’t breathe–”
“Nah. Like I said, ‘m tired.”
She giggled out his name, trying to push the hulking mass off of her, “I’m serious! You’re–you’re hurt, we need to take care of–”
“We need to take care a’... what was it you said? My little friend?” One of his hands worked its way up her shirt as he readjusted them on the bed, “Only thing that’s hurtin’ right now is my ego…little, I should take you over my damn knee for that, y’know.”
She laughed, sighing as his fingers made their way under her bra, “You’re so—you’re such a baby.”
“Oh yeah?” His thumb swirled her nipple as he smirked. Legs thrown over his shoulders, she looked up at him between half-lidded eyes while he worked off her shirt.
“Yeah.” She let out a breath as a tingling in her gut started to form. His canines grazed her neck, tongue flicking out to lick a stripe up the warm flesh.
“We’ll see about that.” He bit down, chuckling deeply at the whimper forced from her lips.
.♡.
“Please–please–I don’t–I think someone’s here, I’m sorry to–to call you, but–”
“Stay right fuckin’ there. I’ll be there in five.”
“I’m–It’s pretty far, are you sure–”
“I can run. Stay on the–” She pressed the end button as at the sound of a bang–a door kicked open. The coat closet maybe? That means they were close. Too close. She pulled her knees closer to her chest, eyes squeezing shut, reopening with fresh, hot tears.
Slow and steady, the sound of footfall was creaking down the wooden expanse of her hallway. Headed towards her, she realized. No. Please. She clutched her hand to her face, fingers pinching her nose to quiet the sounds of her breathing. This was it, wasn’t it? This was–
BANG!
And then a frenzy of footsteps, crazed and seemingly unaware of their destination filled her ears. A shout. A shout? Wait…was that–but still, she didn’t dare breathe. Not until–
“Where the fuck are you?” The sound of her name being growled from a familiar baritone brought her back to reality, and she shakily pushed the door to the closet open from her place curled up on the floor.
“He–Here. I’m–I’m here.” The edge of her voice was cracking with tears as he pushed into the room, kneeling in front of her collapsed form. He gathered her in his arms, and the dam broke, snot and tears staining the soft polyester of his shirt as he carried her to the bed.
“Dumbass–scared the shit outta me–I told you to stay on the fucking–”
“Sorry–I’m sorry. I’m–I was just–I’m sorry…” She balled the fabric of his shirt in her fists as she sobbed. A large hand came to pet her hair, soothing her as it pulled the wet strands from her face, and tucked them behind her ear.
“S’ okay. I know. I’m here–you’re okay.” He sighed, burying his nose into her hair, taking a breath as his other arm soothed at her back. She sighed, gathering herself as she pushed a little bit out of his arms to meet his eyes.
“I–I just got home and–and all my drawers–they were open, and so I…” She sighed shakily, swallowing her tears, “Some of my clothes–my underwear–it’s gone, I–it’s getting worse, they’ve never–not until today–never come inside.” Her eyes shifted, “Well…I don’t think they have, but that’s…”
“That’s it,” She looked up at him, caught off guard a bit by the edge in his voice, “This shit is getting ridiculous. Yer movin’ in.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but a sharp look from crimson eyes killed the words in her throat. He sighed, readjusting her in his lap, taking her face in his hand as he pressed a peck to her jaw.
“I don’t wanna–I don’t wanna force ya, but shit, babe, this is…” He sighed, “‘M not always gonna be nearby on patrol, and if somethin’ happened to you, I’d never fuckin’ forgive myself. Even tonight–motherfucker got away from me.”
“I know,” She sagged, wrapping her arms around his middle, sighing, “I just…I feel so–this isn’t what you signed up for–I don’t want to be a burden to–”
“Shut the fuck up,” She jumped a bit, and his fingers spidered down her back in placation, “Sorry. Just…yer not a damn burden. I fuckin’...” She looked up to see red crawling up his neck and color his cheeks as he avoided her gaze, “I fuckin’ love you.”
He looked down at her now, and her breath hitched in her throat at the intensity burning in his eyes.
She felt heat crawl up her own cheeks, and a smile pulled at her lips despite herself–despite the situation, “Sorry, what was that?”
“I said I fuckin’--demon woman, fuck you.” He scoffed, but the hand at her back didn’t stop its ministrations, even as she giggled.
“No, I’m serious. I didn’t–I didn’t hear you, can’t you–ah!” He rolled them over, collapsing on top of her on the bed.
“Sorry. Can’t remember.” His hands trailed up her sides, and she began to squeal, laughing.
“Stop–Stop! Too–Too ticklish–please!”
“Huh? What was that?” She shrieked, trying and failing to wiggle from beneath his assault on her sides.
“I said–I said I–I love you!” He stopped his torture, smirking down at her as she caught her breath.
“Damn right.” He dipped down, pecking her lips.
.♡.
“And you’re sure it’s alright?”
“For the four hundredth time, yes. It’s more than fine; I’m the one who fuckin’ offered.”
She rocked back and forth on her heels in the elevator, various boxes and suitcases littered around the two of them as they headed for the penthouse floor. “I know, it’s just…”
“Stop that–I know that face; you’re fuckin’ fine–I love you. I want you here, you idiot.”
She sighed, nodding to herself as she watched the floors climb on the wall of the elevator. “Okay. Okay, yeah. I love you too.” Internally she calmed; it would be nice to sleep without waking up every hour paranoid that she’d heard the snap of a camera.
The sound of a ding pulled her from her thoughts, and she readjusted the boxes in her arms as the doors slid open, and the two made their way into the penthouse living room. She caught sight of the floor to ceiling windows, and set down her things while he worked to unpack. He nodded towards the bedroom.
“You’ve been here plenty a’ times. Feel free to take a shower or somethin’, and I’ll start on dinner. We’ll unpack as we go.”
She nodded, sending one more glance back to the expanse of skyline beneath her, finding that no matter how familiar she was with the view, her legs would never fail to shake with anxiety at the sight of the clouds hugging the edges of the buildings, obscuring her view of the bottom–of the rest of the world. She turned to head towards the bedroom.
“Gotta spare towel an’ shit for ya in there!” He called after her as she disappeared behind the door before he set her things down, heading for the open-floor kitchen.
.♡.
She stepped out of the shower, tightly wrapping a towel around herself, and swiped away at the condensed water clinging to the mirror to catch sight of her own reflection. She sighed, nodding to herself; this was fine. They loved each other–who cares that they’d only been together a couple months–they’d known each other longer; that had to count for something, right?
She groaned, moving into the bedroom to search for her clothes. Oh. Right. She thought to call for him, but, peeking out the crack in the door, found him, brows furrowed, chopping furiously at onions in the kitchen. Cute. She scanned the room, finding his closet door, and decided to search through his own clothes–he liked to give her shirts to wear, anyways.
She opened the door, stepping inside the large walk-in, and sifted through his drawers, pulling on a pair of boxers. She glanced around in search of a comfortable shirt, eyes catching on a small door–almost a cabinet–hidden on the back wall behind the racks. How curious. She kneeled down, and moved to open it, but–
“The fuck are you doin’?”
She yelped, hitting her head on the rack, hissing, and turned to face him, a sheepish look washing over her face, “Oh! Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to pry, I just–”
“I told ya I set shit out for ya.” The agitation in his voice set a strange feeling alight in her mind, but she brushed it off as his usual obsessive-compulsive nature.
She rubbed at her head, half-sheepish, half soothing the pain, and smiled, “I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything out there. I didn’t mean to snoop. Really.”
He studied her for a moment, but huffed, and gestured with his eyes to follow him into the bedroom. He glanced around, finding folded up clothes fallen half-way beneath the bed on the dark-wood floor. He kneeled, picking them up, and handed her the shirt, moving into his closet to return the rest.
“Musta fallen off the bed. Sorry.” His voice was a bit muffled by the distance, “Didn’t mean to freak out on ya. Been meanin’ to seal that shit up for a while now. Damn rats keep gettin’ in.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry for not asking you.” She threw the black skull shirt over her head as he returned, shutting the closet door. “I know how you feel about your privacy, so…”
“Yeah. Yer fine,” He moved closer, kissing the crown of her head, “Dinner’s almost ready. ‘M fuckin’ beat. Let’s start unpacking tomorrow.”
.♡.
“And there’s nothing? Not one clue?” She folded up her clothes in the bedroom’s new wardrobe. He’d told her that the closet was being renovated to fit the two of them, providing her an expensive but temporary solution.
“‘M just as frustrated as you, babe. How do you think I feel, bein’ a top hero and still not bein’ able to protect my girl.” He huffed, handing her articles of clothing from a half-unpacked box as they talked.
“You’ve done more than protect me; it’s not your fault,” She sighed, fingers flexing, tightening subconsciously on the shirt she was holding, “I just…”
“I know, and…” He clicked his tongue, scanning her, “Yer not gonna like what I haveta say next.”
She swallowed, and he watched her throat bob, steeling his nerves. He was so close. He set the box aside, gesturing for her to join him on the bed. She sat herself in his lap, and he brushed her hair from her face, sighing, avoiding her gaze for good measure. Really draw it out.
“I think you should quit yer job.”
“What? Why would I–”
“Just fer now,” His hand soothed at her thigh, “‘An’ I can take care a’ things. Just ‘til shit dies down.” Yeah. That sounds good. And if shit just happens not to die down…Well, he was more than happy to provide.
“I thought you said you didn’t have any clues.”
Sometimes he wished he was attracted to dumber women. She pushed off his lap, and resumed her work, stuffing clothes inside the drawers with renewed anger.
He realized he didn’t appreciate her anger–did she not realize he was trying to keep her safe? It’s fine. He could fix that. He stood, hand to her shoulder to turn her, and calm her.
“Not any solid ones, but,” His eyes shifted, searching for the words, “Yer always comin’ back late–by yourself–if they found where you were livin’--you think they don’t know where yer workin’?” It was a bit hard not to revel for a bit in the irony–made him feel powerful–but it also made him realize just how weak she was, how unaware, how fragile.
“Well…they haven’t followed me here.”
“Cause this place is maximum fuckin’ security,” He smirked, chest puffing a bit as a sort of sick pride bloomed in his chest,“‘Sides, ain’t no one’s messin’ with the Number Two. Heh. Love to see ‘em try.”
She rolled her eyes, pushing his hand from her shoulder, and made her way to the living room to retrieve another box, “I’m glad you’re feeling safe.” Okay, fine. Probably not the best time to be peacocking, but really, would a pat on the back kill her?
“That ain’t what I meant. Hey,” He trailed after her, “‘M serious. Sue me fer wantin’ you alive.”
She swallowed, avoiding her eyes. Whatever. He sighed internally. He really didn’t like scaring her. But honestly, she needed to learn: he was going to get his way–this was for her own good. He’d seen so much death and destruction in his short life, so much pain and suffering and–nevermind that–he would make sure she didn’t have to, no matter what she had to say about it.
“Hey,” His voice softened as he approached her, “Just…just promise you’ll think about it, alright?” He brought a hand to her cheek, and she leaned in, sighing.
She nodded, “Alright.”
.♡.
Ring ring! Ring ring! Ring ri–
Your call has been forwarded to the voicemail for–
“Shit. Please. Come on…”
Ring ring!
“Come on, come on.”
Ring ring!
“Answer. Answer. Please answer.”
Ring ri–
Your call has been for–
“Shit!” She clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes darting side to side, and glanced over her shoulder as she sped down the dimly lit sidewalk.
Just her luck, she thought. Take on a new client, you said. It’ll be fine, you said. Who cares that they live in the middle of goddamn nowhere? The trains will still be running; it won’t be too late. Idiot.
She huffed, heart threatening to beat out of her chest; every shifting shadow was a threat; every kick of a stray rock, every honk of a distant car horn–everything–was sending lightning through her nerves, blood roaring so loudly in her ears she could barely hear herself think.
The fall of a raindrop on her nose had her jump, though she began to groan as the pitter-patter of rainfall filled the streets. But then—
“You look lost, pretty girl.” A deep, distorted chuckle cut through her resolve as if it were made of ribbons, and her legs sprung forward before she could think to turn around.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Not now; please not now.
Running frantically and without direction, she turned left then right then left then right then right again, lungs burning, and tears obscuring her vision, not knowing if her breath and voice were stolen by exertion or terror or both.
She slowed once she gathered herself enough to take in her surroundings. Where was she? And then, interrupting her thoughts, a slow, heavy footfall, too casual, too comfortable, started to make its way towards her.
“It’s rude to ignore people, you know,” No. Fuck. Left? Right? Where was home? Where was–“Hey, I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you, bitch.”
Fuck it. Left it was. Her gym bag jostled on her shoulder, a stray, initialed gym towel flying from the partially opened side-compartment into the wind behind her as she took off.
“Hey! Get the fuck back here!”
She turned briefly over her shoulder to catch sight of the figure–dressed in all black, head to toe–and let out a cry, pushing forward again, “Please! Leave me alone! I don’t know–I don’t know what you want from me!” Right.
There was that ugly laugh again, closer than before, and she willed her burning legs and lungs forward. Left. Back on the main road, good.
“Aww, I just wanna talk is all. What,” The voice turned darker, “You don’t wanna talk?”
Terrifying implications aside, she was nearly annoyed with him–him?--annoyed with what little effort he seemed to put into hunting her like some animal, not having even broken a sweat in his pursuit. She tossed her gym bag from her shoulder, hitting him square in the face, running with renewed vigor.
“Ah-Fuck! Bitch!”
She turned down another alley; maybe she could throw him off her trail. Fuck it. Turning again and again and again until she could no longer hear the sounds of wet shoes slapping the pavement behind her. She looked over her shoulder: nothing. Looking left, looking right: nothing. Only the sound of rainshower pouring down as if angry in and of itself. Join the club.
The quiet was nearly unsettling, but she forced a sigh from her lungs, deciding to stealthily find her way out of the maze she’d created for herself without alerting her predator. Which way was it now? Ugh. Maybe…that way? She turned–
Slam!
Her face hit a brick wall–no–her face hit a warm chest as hard as a brick wall. Fuck. This was it. She was going to die, right? She didn’t want to die. She swallowed, chest tightening, and nausea building, but–
“Holy shit! You’re fuckin’ freezing!”
She looked up to find scarlet eyes wide with worry, his large hands rubbed up and down her freezing wet arms, soothing the hairs stood on end. She let out a shaky sigh as she studied his face, half in disbelief and half in sheer relief. Though, her brow furrowed, shaking her head a bit in confusion upon spotting the pink strap of her gym bag hanging loosely from his shoulder.
“What–Where did you find that?”
“Huh?”
“My bag. Where did you find my bag?” She was getting agitated. This was paranoia, right? She pulled from his grip, noting the slight narrowing of his eyes before they returned to their previous concern. Was she imagining things? He put his hands up in surrender.
“Woah, chill, chill! I was out fuckin’ lookin’ for you. Left my phone at home while I was on my run, just got yer messages when I came back, and sprinted fer my fuckin’ life into the pourin’ rain tryna find you. I just found the damn thing abandoned on the side a’ the road.”
He sighed, taking a wet and matted strand of her hair from her cheek, brushing it behind her ear, “Yer gonna send me to an early fuckin’ grave y’know. When I saw it layin’ there on the street, I thought…” He swallowed, avoiding her gaze, voice cracking, “I thought you were…”
How cruel she was. To throw such accusations. She fell into his arms, out of guilt or adoration, she didn’t know, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–I keep making you worry, and–I just–I was so…” Her voice left her, sobs overtaking her body.
He comforted her in his embrace while the rain poured down around them, sticking their hair to their faces and clothes to their skin, stray raindrops catching on their eyelashes as they pulled away to find each other’s gazes.
And, with tears and rain mixing on their cheeks, he brought his lips to her own, breath warming her cold lips before she pushed forward, arms tangling in his hair as his own locked around her waist, tight and close and safe. Safe. A shared thought between them, though, with two entirely different meanings.
.♡.
“Gotta call the Commission. Had half the damn city out searchin’ for ya.” His thumb swiped over her cheek, eyes giving her a once-over–freshly showered with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, teacup steaming in her hands as she sat, in her silk pajamas and fuzzy socks, curled up on the living room couch.
She nodded, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead before excusing himself. The murmur of the sugary-sweet, altogether too happy movie he’d put on faded to the background as she turned to watch the skyline beneath her, a gray film obscuring the warm yellows and oranges that glowed in the distance.
She sighed, mentally kicking herself for her stubbornness. He had warned her this may happen. And because of her arrogance, Japan’s best heroes were wasting their time searching for her when they had much more important things to be doing–real problems to deal with. How selfish. She huffed, swiping away a stray tear, and turned to smile at him as he returned.
“Yeah yeah. I owe ya one. Now fuck off, would you?” Ending the call, he fell into the seat beside her, hand rubbing down his face, exhausted. That’s your fault.
She sighed, “Is everything okay?”
He looked at her, giving a weary smile, and her chest burned, “Mm. All good. We should be worryin’ about you, dumbass.” No, we shouldn’t.
She swallowed, scooching closer to him on her couch, “I was–I think that,” she huffed, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest, “You were right. I’ll–if it’s still alright, I can stop working for a bit. So you don’t have to worry–to worry about me too much.”
Her cheeks burned in shame as she avoided his gaze, but the palm of his hand turned her face towards him. She nearly jumped at the emotion glowing in his eyes, burning with an intensity she’d not fully seen before, eyes locked on her own, yet, hollow, as if he wasn’t really looking at her. Through her? No…
“Fuck yeah, it’s alright. C’mere,” He pulled her into his lap, and she realized what it reminded her of, as he regarded her with the sheer glee a child would show upon receiving a new toy, admiring her like some possession. No. Maybe he was just getting worked up–that must be it. The day had been stressful, right?
He began pressing hot, wet kisses to her neck, “Just stick with me. I’ll keep ya safe, baby. Promise.” His teeth grazed up her flesh, and she felt goosebumps start to form.
She nodded, cheeks burning in embarrassment at her growing dependency, but the feel of his hand under her shirt brought her back to reality.
“Oh–oh. I was–I don’t know if…” She was tired. So tired. Her limbs and mind weighed with growing self-disgust and an increasing sense of helplessness. The last thing she felt right now was sexy.
“Lie down for me.” He flipped her on her back before she could answer, working off her shirt, and his hands pulled at the waistband of her shorts. He kissed down her sternum, leaving small bite shaped bruises in his path.
She called his name, hand to his shoulder, not pushing, but stiff, “Maybe we should–I’m not really–” He hooked his fingers into the side of her underwear and something jumped a bit in her chest. Fear. It couldn’t be fear.
He sat up as he peeled off the last of her clothes, “Fuck. You keep scarin’ me and scarin’ me…might gimme a fuckin’ heart attack one day.” He wasn’t looking at her, arms wrapping around her thighs to pull her legs around his hips. She squealed a bit as she was dragged further down, but didn’t protest.
She fell silent, he just loved her is all, this was fine. Didn’t she owe him at least this? Still, the thought didn’t sit right in some near-forgotten part of her mind.
He ripped off his shirt, defined abs and arms flexing in the moonlight before bringing his thumb to swirl at her clit, smirking when her hips jumped from the stimulation, muscles flexing and unflexing. She took her lip between her teeth, eyes slowly losing focus.
“That’s it. Fuck, that’s hot.” He took two of his calloused fingers into his mouth, tongue flicking out to wet the digits, drool dripping as they popped from his lips. Moving down to play at her lower lips, they forced themselves into her without warning.
She winced a bit at the stretch, but the roll of his thumb over her clit eased the burn. She tried to rationalize the situation in her mind. They’d had sex so many times before, why was this any different?
She swallowed as the knot built, thoughts flying from her brain as her legs tensed and shuddered against his hips, walls tightening around his fingers. Closer and closer. He sped his motions, rubbing furiously at her swollen bud. She began to tremble in anticipation, whimpers turning to open mouthed moans, head thrown back.
“You gonna cum, pretty girl?”
An alarm went off in her brain.
“You look lost, pretty girl.”
But it was too late, his fingers curled and pumped into her, hitting a spot that had her melting, and her eyelids and pussy fluttered in gratification as her eyes crossed, vision going white.
When she came down from her high, he was pulling her to her feet, and towards the windows.
But, “What did–what did you just call me?” It came out quietly, meekly, and she briefly wondered if that was really her voice.
She shivered at the sheer intensity with which he regarded her, either not hearing, or ignoring her question altogether. He spun her around, and gripped her hips harshly, pulling them towards him, forcing her to arch her back. Face and hands pressed to the glass, she breathed his name as he worked his cock from his boxers.
Why wasn’t he listening?
“You don’t gotta worry about nothin’ from now on,” He sighed, sliding his cock between her folds, gathering the wetness, and huffed a low chuckle, “‘Cept sittin’ pretty at home, an’ keepin’ my cock warm in bed. Sound good, baby?”
She was used to dirty talk, but this was…strange, “What are–”
On hand caught her hair between his fingers, tugging at the roots as he leaned forward, breath wet and hot in her ear.
“‘Sit here all safe and sweet for me, yeah?” The hand tightened, and she felt a few strands ripped loose.
“Ah—it hurts, I—”
“I asked you a question, pretty girl.”
“Yeah—Yes. Yes, but—”
His cockhead breached her walls, and she whimpered. No matter how many times she took him, she’d never grow used to his size. In some form of placation, he kissed at the back of her neck, and behind her ear. It wasn’t working. He pulled back, and the hand in her hair met her throat, fingers flexing as they felt her racing pulse.
“‘S all yer good for anyways, huh?” That stung more than his cock bottoming out inside her. Too big. Please. Slow down. Just—
“That’s alright,” he licked his lips, pinching at the fat of her ass, forcing a yelp from her throat, before he began to thrust, fucking her hard against the window. Wait—
Through choked moans and whimpers, “I don’t…ah–” His hips snapped forward, hitting that special spot inside her, and taking her voice. Please.
“It’s alright, I forgive ya,” He huffed a laugh, close to her ear again, “I love you, after all.”
.♡.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” She tried to stamp down the building irritation, but really, “I could have taken it myself.” Did he really think her that incapable?
“It ain’t a bit deal,” She watched as he worked, heavy weight on his shoulders as he squatted, “‘Sides, I was due for a gauntlet upgrade–was on my way,” He side-eyed her as he stood, “Said she’d fix it right up for ya. As a favor.”
The clang of the weight hitting the floor made her jump, “I mean…That’s nice of her–your inventor friend–but I still don’t understand what happened?” Her legs swayed back and forth on the exercise bench in an attempt to soothe her antsy nerves.
He moved to the smaller, hand weights, “Like I said…You knocked it off the nightstand last night,” Sighing as if her question were an inconvenience, “Thought someone broke in with the sound of it fuckin’ shattering.”
She didn’t know she moved in her sleep, or that she was that deep a sleeper. She also didn’t know that phones could break so easily, but she didn’t want to question him–he was going out on a limb for her to fix it for free, but still…
“Well…thank you, but I could have gone with you. I feel like I haven’t been outside in forever, and I’ve been getting a bit…restless.” He’d insisted on her near total confinement until this stalker of hers was found. Which he also said might take a while. What was a while?
“Maybe you can come with me when it’s ready, yeah?”
She sighed a bit in relief, “Yeah,” Her eyes shifted a bit, “Thank you, though, for–”
“Like I said, stop thankin’ me for given’ a shit about you,” Wiping at his neck with a towel, he stood, and she followed him into the foyer, “Alright. I gotta head out. I’ll try an’ be back before dark this time.” She hummed, and he kissed the crown of her head, giving her a once over, and nodded to himself, heading for the door.
She sighed to herself as the door clicked shut, and turned, eyes scanning over the expanse of the penthouse. This was fine. She had plenty to do–she could make herself useful. Keep herself busy. Maybe then she could ignore the hollow in her chest that had opened who knows how long ago–she could make this work. She had to.
.♡.
She nudged the closet door open with her hip, carrying the laundry basket inside. She’d gotten used to this routine, and she tried to reclaim some of the peace she used to feel in the silence. She began to fold up the articles, placing them in the drawers. With this impractically large, new closet, laundry day had become a strenuous task on its own.
He had told her she didn’t need to do all this, and in all honesty it did make her feel like a mix between housewife and maid. But what else was there? It wasn’t safe outside, he’d said. She just had to wait a bit more. She could do that. And she really didn’t like upsetting him–not after everything he’d done for her.
She lost track of the time, humming to herself as she worked, closing the drawers, and moving on to place the rest of the clothes on hangers. The lack of music in her ears had a bitter feeling pull at her heart–he’d just taken her phone without asking. He’d started to do a lot of things without asking. No. He loved her; he’d just wanted to do something nice for her. The bitterness melted onto her heart and burned.
How ungrateful.
She was nearly done now, just the back racks left. As she moved to set the basket down she caught sight of pink nylon–her gym bag on the floor, hidden behind the racks. The burn faded, and nostalgia took its place. She kneeled, pulling it from its place propped up against the since sealed shut cabinet–rats, he had reminded her.
She unzipped the bag, and sorted through the equipment. She pulled out the grip strengthener, smiling a bit, and turned it in her hands, finger running along the crack in the metal.
Crack!
“Oh shit!” He laughed, “My bad.”
“Now, what did you have to go and do that for?” He handed it back to her, and she turned it in her hands, catching sight of the cracked metal, before looking up, and smacking his shoulder.
“Asshole!” She laughed “You know how hard it is to find a quality grip strengthener?”
His brow furrowed as his eyes flickered to the device in her hands, “I dunno,” a sly smile spreading as he shrugged, “All I’m hearin’ is that you’ve never been taught what quality means.” He moved closer, and she shoved his face away.
“Don’t be gross,” Still, she smiled as she pulled back, “I’m still your physical therapist for one more week.”
“Yeah? And then what?” He smirked.
Her smile turned mischievous, “Huh. I’m not sure,” She looked into the distance, as if contemplating something, “Travel the world? Finally learn how to cook? Steal the moon? Who knows, I–ah!”
He pulled her into his lap with a force that had both of the tumbling to the floor, noses touching. A blink. And then they were laughing, her hands by his head, and his hands on her hips. They settled, and she caught sight of an emotion akin to admiration in his eyes,
“I got a few ideas of what you could do.” His eyes flickered to her lips, fingers flexing on her hips.
“Oh yeah?” She sighed a breath onto his lips.
“Yeah,” He puffed out a breath, but contained himself, flipping them over, and smirking as she squealed, “But we’re not leavin’ this room ‘til I show you what quality really means.”
She hadn’t realized she was crying until her tears hit the cool metal. She can’t remember the last time he looked at her like that, with admiration that didn’t equal possession.
She sighed, wiping furiously at her face, and shoved it into the bag. What was the use of stewing over something she had no control of? But still, she couldn’t help the building anger in her chest as she moved to put the bag away. Hide away the memories.
She caught sight of the sealed cabinet, and paused. No. He valued his privacy. And he’d told her rats had gotten in through the wall. She’d never seen rats before. But, he also took her phone without asking, and told her it shattered. She’d never been a heavy sleeper. She tried to ignore the guilt that gnawed at her; it somehow felt wrong to criticize him–he was doing his best.
There was a familiar feeling of nausea mixing with the guilt creating an overwhelming wave of unease that poured over her nerves. Fuck it. She shuffled through her bag. Where was it? Where was it? There.
She pulled a reflex hammer from inside, turning it backwards, testing the sharp metal tip at its base with her finger. Guess you are good for something. She shuffled forwards, scratching at the sealant of the cabinet, brows furrowed in determination, and mouth set in a hard line as she peeled the rubbery substance from the creases. Almost. Closer. Closer. Done.
She sighed, setting the hammer in the bag, hesitating a bit as her fingers curled over the side crease–why was there no handle? It creaked open, and the smell of dust filling her nostrils had her sneezing. Collecting herself, she waved away the dust, squinting as it settled.
Inside lay a wooden box of sorts–crate, maybe?--wooden something. Curious. She pulled it into her lap with some strain, prying off the top, and hissing at the sting under her fingernails as they caught on the edge. It fell off with a thump, and she peered inside.
What is that?
Her breath caught in her throat, eyes wide and trembling. An initialed gym towel. If he’d found it that night…why hadn’t he given this back to her?
And…polaroids? She couldn’t breathe. Was that–No. They were too blurry. Too dark. It couldn’t be…
No. No. No.
A few wads of hair–her hair? She couldn’t breathe. Her heart beat against her ribs, blood flow filling her ears like the roaring wave of unease. Except, it wasn’t unease. Were those her clothes?
This didn’t make sense.
Trembling fingers reached inside, pulling out something soft and cotton. Was that..Was that her underwear?
It wasn’t unease.
It was freezing, burning, suffocating terror. But the break in, that chase, how–how had he–?
“Yeah yeah. I owe ya one. Now fuck off, would you?”
Owe ya one. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. No. No.
This made perfect sense.
She couldn’t fucking breathe.
What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.
She dropped the article as if it had burned her skin, falling back on her hands as she scrambled away. She didn’t want to be near that box. She didn’t want to be anywhere near–
A sigh cut her off, and she had to will her frozen limbs to move. All she could manage was the slight turn of her head. It was enough.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and eyes cold–she didn’t know red could be cold–calculating as he scanned the scene.
He clicked his tongue, bringing a hand to his hair, tipping his head back as he ran his fingers through the locks. A slow, deep, building, familiar chuckle. His eyes snapped back to hers, and every nerve in her body burst with fear.
“Now,” He huffed a laugh, smirk pulling at his lips, “What did you have to go and do that for?”
his redemption | 01 | bakugo x reader
synopsis ⤸
after unknowingly moving in next door to a renown gang-leader, you are thrust into a foreign world tainted by the scars of his past. will you be able to help him redeem his sins before they finally catch up to him?
chapters ⤸
next ᝰ
themes ⤸
fem! reader, 18+, gang au, gang-leader! bakugo, doctor! reader, dark fic, one night stands, friends with benefits, unrequited feelings, mutual pining, smut, graphic depictions of violence, kidnappings, mentions of blood, dubcon
word count ⤸
5.1k
a/n ⤸
this is yet another story that originated for a different fandom, but i love this story so much, n i really want to finish it one day, so i’ve decided to rework it for bakugo. pls note that this’ll be on the darker side, so pls check the tags before you read (i’ll be updating them as i write). pls, pls let me know what you think!
reblogs, are appreciated ~
bakugo katsuki is no stranger to women, much to your dismay.
this is a fact that you learn just a few days after moving into your new apartment block. on the first morning of your arrival, you’d exchanged introductions with the rest of your neighbours, only the angry red eyed man with the blonde ‘fro—as new neighbour denki had described him—hadn’t answered your polite knock, despite the fact that the man’s apartment is situated just a wall away from your own. you’d left with the promise to return the next day.
come the second morning, and you had been so sure that you’d seen a man of denki’s exact description, standing out on the shared balcony, a cigarette in hand. however, by the time you’d made your way down the hall and stepped out onto the concrete, said figure had disappeared from sight, and once again, there was no answer at number 34.
by the end of the third day, you were beginning to wonder if he existed at all.
however, by nightfall, you are made all too aware of his presence.
after yet another tiresome day of unpacking your belongings, you’d been rudely awoken by the sound of loud, chaotic laughter in the early hours of the morning. at first, you had thought that you’d imagined it, considering the apartment next door had been seemingly vacant since the day you’d moved in. but when you hear the noise again, followed by the sound of a low, gruff voice—a man’s voice, you realise—you can only heave a heavy sigh. you try to give them the benefit of the doubt, hoping that they’ll be quick to go to sleep, only for your hopes to diminish into thin air when you then hear a breathy moan.
the man’s voice follows, evidently deeper than his female company, and in turn, you roll over in bed, holding the plush cotton of your pillow over your head. you aren’t sure what time it is, but you suspect that you have just a few hours to get some rest before you have to be up for work.
however, despite your prayers—and much to both your annoyance and horror—the red eyed man with the blonde ‘fro proceeds to keep you awake until six o’clock in the morning. when you are then forced to haul yourself from the comfort of your bed, it is with an exhausted sigh, your eyelids drooping heavily. rubbing a finger under your eyes, you go about your morning routine, readying yourself to start the day with a much needed cup of coffee.
exactly forty-seven minutes later, you are leaving the apartment, pausing to ensure that the door is locked tight behind you. but just as you step out into the hall, the door to number 34 quietly creaks open.
you glance up to see a scarcely dressed woman exiting the apartment, attempting to tip-toe into the hallway as she swings the door shut. light brown hair messily dragged into a bun, she carries her heels in one hand, purse in the other, her clothes haphazard as if she’d rushed to get dressed. she wears a scowl that matches your own, and you conclude that the brunette has indeed become the victim of a rude awakening. you watch her, a brow rising as she then turns and lets out an admirably high-pitched shriek at the sight of you stood before her, arms crossed over your chest.
‘o-oh god,’ she all but exclaims. ‘you sure scared the crap out of me, lady!’
you don’t bother to apologise.
you eye the woman with a look of disapproval, your head tilting to the left at the sound of the door to number 34 swinging open once again.
denki had been right, you think to yourself as you take in the wild mess of blonde hair that hangs across his forehead, tousled and unkempt. and his eyes are a strikingly angry shade of crimson, you’re surprised to see that that fact is also true, your own boring into where there’s a scar that cuts through his left brow. he’s tall. much taller than you’d imagined, clad in what you guess to be a makeshift set of pyjamas—a loose tank-top and a pair of jogging bottoms, the waistband hanging dangerously low on his hips.
you blink up at him, immediately tensing as you realise that he’s caught you staring, those scarlet coloured orbs focused on you. awkwardly clearing your throat, you attempt to save face by taking a small step forward, thrusting your hand in front of his face.
‘h-hi,’ you grimace at how your voice stutters. clearing your throat, you offer your name before forcing a small, but polite, smile, ‘i just moved in next—’
‘i know.’
he completely ignores the brunette as if she’s not stood right before him, and this only causes her scowl to deepen.
your outstretched hand falls to your side, quickly realising that he’s not going to return the handshake. ‘oh... well i tried to—’
‘i know,’ he interrupts again, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. the movement has the lines of his biceps tensing, and you belatedly chide yourself for allowing your eyes to dart to the offending muscle, glaring at his skin. the man looks at you, expression bored, ‘heard you knockin’.’
‘oh,’ involuntarily, your shoulders slump, before your brows pinch together, barely concealing your annoyance. you fail to do so, it seems, as the man before you makes a little noise at the back of his throat before the reds of his eyes languidly drag down the length of your body, before trickling upwards. you grip your handbag a little tighter, teeth clenching together. ‘well, as i said, i’m—’
‘new neighbour,’ he cuts you off once more, voice now lilting upon a tone of amusement when you don’t bother to mask the glare that now mars your features, ‘i know.’ and then, to your surprise, he leans forward, offering his hand. ‘bakugo,’ is all he says as you reluctantly accept his handshake. his hand is warm, his grip burning into your skin, the length of his fingers much longer than your own. you almost relish the touch of his palm until you remember just what he had been doing that had kept you awake all night, and instead, you all but snatch your hand away.
‘and i’m camie,’ the brunette snaps from your right.
bakugo’s eyes flicker to glance at her, somehow appearing to have completely forgotten that she’s been stood beside you. expression bored, he hums, ‘camie? thought your name was—?’
‘wow,’ it is you who interrupts him this time.
camie scoffs loudly. she almost looks as if she wants to cry and you can’t help but feel a little sorry for her, glaring at him on behalf of the other woman, who—without saying another word—rushes down the hallway as best she can without shoes on. you gawk after her, wincing when the main door slams shut, listening as the noise ricochets down the hall, an echo following in its wake.
‘tsk,’ bakugo tuts, as if disapproving of the noise. a frown is pulling at the space between his brows when you look at him, his eyes darting to bore into yours, his expression lacking any form of remorse.
you stare back, incredulous. and because you simply can’t help yourself, you sneer, ‘is that how you treat all women?’
bakugo doesn’t appear to appreciate your curt tone, his spine straightening until he’s standing a little taller, gaze sterner.
‘she got what she came for.’
as if you could forget the way that he'd kept you awake all night. your frown deepens, ‘i’m sure.’
he looks as if he doesn’t know how to reply. or maybe his unnerving silence is purposely aimed your way because you’ve managed to hit a nerve. you’re not sure.
but once you check the time on your watch, you realise that you have just twenty minutes to make your way to work. ‘shit,’ you curse softly, rushing to turn away without another look in his direction. yet when your hand curls around the handle of the entrance door, he calls out to you again.
‘see you ‘round,’ he says lowly. your neck cranes to glance at him from over your shoulder, fighting back the urge to shudder once you catch sight of the scowl he aims at you. within the blink of an eye, he’s smirking, the whites of his teeth gleaming as the corners of his mouth stretch. unnerved, you stumble enough to lose your footing, just managing to catch your balance on the doorframe. bakugo’s eyes squint down at you, ‘you be careful there,’ he mocks, waving a hand, ‘... neighbour.’
you all but run out of the apartment block, exhaling with relief once the door slams shut.
and all the way to work, you dawdle.
the introduction to your new neighbour wasn’t what you’d planned at all. you’d hoped that the two of you would exchange pleasantries, maybe occasionally share cups of sugar, if needed. but after just one meeting, you already regret being so eager to meet him.
and new neighbour denki certainly hadn’t warned you about how annoying the red eyed man is. how rude he is.
how frustratingly hot he is.
as soon as that thought enters your head, you shake it free.
you remain lost in thought until the moment you reach the clinic, almost walking face-first into the glass door. huffing down your embarrassment, you hope that no one notices the way that you stumble your way through the reception and towards your office, barely remembering to breathe a morning greeting to ochaco, who waits for you at the front desk.
the dark-haired woman scuttles after you, closing the office door as you busy yourself with discarding your coat and bag onto the two seater couch before heavily slumping in the chair at your desk. ochaco places a file onto the desk, offering an apologetic look as she watches the way that you warily eye the folder.
‘he’s new,’ she tells you, soft spoken and smiling sweetly when you glance up at her. ‘he signed up last—’
she’s interrupted by the sound of the door flying open so violently that it roughly smacks back onto the wall behind. mina bounds into the room, clapping her hands excitedly, beaming. she wraps a strong arm around ochaco’s shoulder—who squeaks with surprise when she almost topples over—and squeezes. ‘did you tell her? did you, did you?’
ochaco points at the file on the desk, ‘i was just—’
‘oh my god!’ mina exclaims, interrupting. ‘you have got to see this new patient—i begged nemuri to let me have him, but she said some shit about professionalism—that stone-faced bitch. i mean, how the hell am i not professional?’
you stifle a laugh, leaning back in your chair.
mina’s hands are snatching up the file before you can take a peek. ‘god,’ she groans, dropping the file back down so that it smacks against the surface of the desk. ‘it’s so unfair.’
‘i’m sure,’ you hum, ochaco giggling behind her hand.
‘just wait until you see him. i can’t believe nemuri is letting you have him.’
you let the comment slide, reaching for the file and flicking the first page open. but as soon as your eyes fixate onto the photograph that is paper clipped to the information sheet, you bolt upright, slack jawed.
mina calls your name, frowning at your reaction, and when you don’t reply, her grown deepens. ‘okay, i know he’s hot but—’
‘i know him,’ you snap at her, glowering.
‘you do?’ mina asks, dubious.
you drop the file to the desk, head in your hands as you groan loudly, ‘he’s my new neighbour. i met him this morning.’
the curl of mina’s grin is now mischievous, ‘oh?’
you grimace, ‘don’t look at me like that. he’s not hot at all. he’s such a... a... whore.’ ochaco’s eyes widen at the insult, cheeks red. you elaborate, jabbing your index finger at the file, ‘i bumped into his one night stand this morning... he didn’t even remember her name. asshole.’
mina snorts, ‘just your type then,’ she laughs at your annoyed expression, ochaco’s one of concern.
‘i can’t believe this,’ you groan again, head tilted back as you peer up at the ceiling. this is just your luck. of all people, of course it had to be you to be assigned as his doctor.
‘maybe you could ask nemuri if someone else—’ ochaco starts, words dying on the tip of her tongue at the sound of mina clearing her throat. the brunette woman swallows, stuttering as she corrects, ‘o-or maybe you could recommend that mina—?’
‘yes,’ the pinkette cuts her off, hand forming a fist as she grins, eyes gleaming with glee, ‘this is perfect.’
you lift your head to look at her, bewildered, ‘it is?’
‘uh, duh?’ mina looks at you as if you’ve suddenly sprouted a second head. ‘i get him as free eye candy, and you get to fuck him without getting into trouble. you know, conflict of interest and all that crap.’
‘i’m not going to f—’ you clear your throat at the poor choice of wording, ‘i’m not going to sleep with him, mina.’
she almost looks offended, ‘come on. he’s hot. and he lives next door, so you know, no walks of shame.’
you run a hand over your face, ‘sometimes, i honestly... really question why we’re friends.’
ochaco titters at this and mina pretends to have not heard you.
‘i’ll ask nemuri if i can hand him over,’ you relent. ‘if you want to deal with him, then be my guest. rather you than me.’
mina completely ignores the bitter bite to your tone, sighing dreamily as she stares down at the folder, the first page flipped open to show his picture. the three of you peer down at the photograph with mixed expressions of curiosity and distaste.
‘he’s not bad looking,’ ochaco offers.
you huff, ‘don’t encourage her. please.’
her smile is gentle, ‘i just think it wouldn’t be too bad if you... had some fun.’
‘see?’ mina’s arm is wrapped around poor ochaco’s shoulders once more, ‘she gets it.’
‘okay, i’m not listening anymore,’ you stand from your seat, shutting the folder with a flick of your hand and then ushering your friends to the door, ignoring mina’s exaggerated protests. you gently push them out of the office, pausing to grab at the white lab coat from the stand by the door. ‘i’m not sleeping with him and i don’t need to have fun—don’t give me that look, ochaco, you’re just as bad as—’
‘ladies,’ the three of you look to the left to see your senior practitioner standing with a scowl slanting across her forehead, heeled foot tapping against the linoleum flooring. ‘we must not be busy enough if you have time to be chit-chatting in my clinic.’
mina’s lips purse. it is no secret that both she and nemuri have a love-hate relationship, their constant bickering often subject to many jokes shared amongst the staff body. nemuri’s temper, matched with mina’s childish stubbornness is no fight that any of them particularly enjoy witnessing, especially after the time nemuri swung for mina’s head when cleaner-boy-turned-prankster sero had convinced the pinkette to jokingly lace nemuri’s alcohol with laxatives during an after-work party. luckily, she hadn’t consumed the liquid, but she had been angry enough to leave a mark on mina’s cheek for a week afterwards.
you, on the other hand, as well as ochaco, much prefer to remain on nemuri’s good side. the woman does sign off your pay-checks, after all.
‘actually,’ you start, faltering when narrowed sky-blue eyes glide over to you, unimpressed by your attire. heeding the unspoken warning, you quickly swing the lab coat over your shoulders, shoving your arms through the respective holes. the palms of your hands are flattening down the fabric as you dare to ask, ‘could i have a word?’
nemuri eyes you, a dark brow quirking upwards.
‘please?’ you urge.
nemuri glances at the other two women who stand behind you, and whilst you can’t see their expressions, you can already picture the annoyance on mina’s face. ‘do you not have work to do, ashido?’ nemuri barks, and ochaco is already shuffling away before the older woman’s anger can be aimed at her.
smart.
you hear mina click her tongue, but she doesn’t argue back, and you listen to the clacking of her heels until they quieten behind the slam of a door. nemuri’s gaze lingers on you for a second longer, and then she’s turning away, leading the way to her office. once inside, nemuri takes a seat behind her desk, the woodwork cluttered with paperwork. she points a manicured fingertip at the chair opposite, and without question, you follow the instruction. lowered into the comfortable seat, you wait for the older woman’s attention to focus on you, watching as she searches the pockets of her own lab coat. when she can’t find what she’s looking for, she grumbles under her breath, quickly giving up.
settling back in her chair, her stare fixates onto you.
‘now,’ she drawls, teeth bared as she smiles. ‘what can i do for my favourite student?’
๑
it is dark when you arrive home, soaked through from the rain that had poured from the heavens when you were just minutes away from your apartment building.
you’re not sure of the time, but you suspect that it’s well past midnight, kicking your sodden shoes off at the door, barely remembering to shove the key through the lock. dumping your purse on the small dining table, you shrug off your coat, shoving the damp material into the washing machine, along with your stockings. a trail of water follows you to the bathroom, your fingers snatching a clean towel from the radiator. however, you don’t get the chance to dry your hair, as a loud knocking at the front door has your spine stiffening.
exhaustion has you debating on ignoring whoever is at the door, but when they knock again, the loud thumping is now desperate and repetitive.
‘alright, alright!’
you’re unlocking the front door, yanking it open, ready to reprimand the visitor for making such a racket. but as you pull open the door—only for a heavy weight to suddenly slump against you, enticing a winded oof! from your lips—the words die on the tip of your tongue.
‘what the—?’
staggering under the extra weight, you struggle to remain upright. recognising the flash of blonde hair that tickles your cheek, you heave the man up into a standing position.
‘bakugo? what on earth are you—?’
he grasps at your arms, using your shoulder to balance himself as he hauls his body to lean against the doorframe with a strained wheeze. his face is unhealthily pale and you notice the beads of sweat that have collected upon his forehead, threatening to trickle down the curve of his cheek. heavily lidded eyes blink down at you and his voice rasps as he says, ‘need help.’
you see it then; how he’s clutching at his ribs, his body trembling as the length of his spine presses against the doorframe. your eyes widen at the startling amount of blood that soaks a crimson stain through the fabric of his light-coloured t-shirt, the thick liquid smeared along the bumps of his swollen knuckles. your rain-soaked skin is forgotten, the towel closing over the back of his hand, adding pressure.
‘w-what happened?’
‘you. you’re... a doctor... ain’t you?’ his eyes are squeezed shut, his breath wetly rattling from between his lips, the lower one split.
you stare at him, ‘how do you—?’
‘help me,’ bakugo hisses, gaze smouldering as he grunts in pain when you press harder. ‘please,’ he adds reluctantly, the word forced out between gritted teeth.
pausing to kick the door shut, you guide him into your small apartment, carefully supporting his weight as you walk him toward the bedroom, lowering him to the mattress as gently as you can. he strains out a groan of pain, eyes screwing shut, and you easily forget any form of annoyance that you’d harboured towards him, grimacing as you gently nudge his hand out of the way to peel his shirt back.
unsurprisingly, the wound is fresh, deep enough that it’s still weeping, but not so deep that you can see fat. it’s a relief and you allow the emotion to sag your shoulders, a breath escaping you. you slide the towel over his skin once more, pressing hard.
‘keep pressure on it,’ you order. fingers shaking, he does as you say, clamping down onto the towel that has already begun to morph into a brilliant shade of red. the sight is a concern, and you rush to grab the first-aid kit from the bathroom before returning to kneel beside him, pausing to look over his prone form. he appears to have formed a fever, so you decide on opening the window, allowing a trickle of cool air to flow into the room, chilled by the rain outside.
suppressing a shudder, you hope that it’s enough to ease his fever, your hand moving his aside to check the wound once more. it’s a few inches long, the cut clean. you can sew him up—you’re more than skilled enough to do so—but you’d much rather him be checked out at a hospital. you voice this opinion to him, only to be shut down almost immediately.
‘no,’ he manages to gasp around a tense moan. ‘no hospital.’
‘but—’
‘i said,’ he hisses, head raising from the mattress to glare at you, ‘no fuckin’ hospital.’
you bite back a retort. it’s no use arguing with him, especially when he’s bleeding out onto your brand new bedsheets. ‘fine,’ you relent, tone brash and eyes hard. ‘i need your shirt off.’
he eyes you dubiously, warily.
‘it’ll give me more space to work,’ you clarify. ‘plus, it’ll be much cleaner. it’ll decrease the risk of—’
‘yeah, yeah,’ he grunts, making a move to sit upright, his abdominal muscles tensing. only, he collapses straight back down, quickly followed by a pained wheeze. ‘i-i can’t...’ he suddenly forms a fist, slamming it down on the mattress beneath him with a frustrated curse, ‘fuck!’
your hand closes around his, ‘it’s fine,’ you try to calm him, slightly panicked by his small outburst. you don’t think that he’ll hurt you—or at least, that’s what you hope—but the clenching of his fist and the welling of his darkening orbs has your stomach knotting with nerves. lest you allow it show, though, your expression is forcibly neutral, ‘don’t move. i’ll just use scissors.’
he huffs a noise of disapproval but doesn’t move, so you open up the first-aid box, throwing the lid open so harshly that it almost snaps from the hinges. grabbing the scissors, you make quick work of slicing through his t-shirt, his brows pulling together at the sound of the fabric tearing until you tug it from under his back, throwing it to the ground. he grunts as you accidentally jostle him, but you pay no mind, already reaching for the anti-septic wipes.
‘this is going to sting,’ is the only warning you spare him.
‘just hurry the fuck up,’ he snaps, only for the expanse of his chest to vibrate with a pained growl when you smooth the first wipe over the wound. his hips jerk upwards, head falling back against the bed.
‘hold still,’ you snap, elbow roughly digging into the soft tissue of his hip in order to keep him still. he mumbles something under his breath but you aren’t listening, cleaning his wound with a practiced pace. as you work, you are privy to the sight of the family of scars that litter his torso. there’s one, long and jagged, that traces from his right hipbone to his navel, the edges uneven. you dread to imagine what could have caused it. there are a few smaller scars that encircle his left collarbone, splattered down to his nipple, another large one that expands across his ribs, disappearing as it curves around to his back.
you know that you shouldn’t be staring.
he’s a patient.
but that doesn’t stop you from admiring him. because despite the scars that taint the golden kiss of his tanned skin, and despite the fact that the heat of his blood warms your hands as you work, congealing in a way that makes your nose crinkle, you can’t help but agree with mina.
he really is a sight to admire.
the blood-flow ceased, you ensure that the wound is thoroughly cleaned before proceeding to select a sterile needle, ripping open the packaging with your teeth. squinting with one eye closed, you guide the thread through the loop, shuffling closer on your knees.
‘’kay,’ you breathe. ‘gonna close you up now.’
when you receive no reply, you look up, only to see that the pain has rendered him unconscious. it’s probably for the best, you conclude, pushing the needle through his skin and forming the first stitch. with practiced ease, the stitching is neatly formed in short timing, cleaned and bandaged with careful precision.
after, you pack away the first-aid kit, careful to not wake him when you move from the bed to discard the used wipes and the bloodied needle. in the bathroom, you scrub your hands clean, drying them before returning to the bedroom to gently remove the stained towel from his curled fist. you discard the fabric of his ruined t-shirt into the bin, setting the washing machine to cycle after shoving the towel in to join your coat.
closing the bedroom window and switching the light off, you collapse into the chair by the vanity table. tiredly, you eye his sleeping form, his skin illuminated by the dim light emitted from the lamp in the living room. a thin sheet of sweat coats his forehead, blonde hair now appearing a light brown as it is dampened. his lungs expand and deflate at a slow, but even pace, and you know that he’s out of danger, despite the pool of blood that has crusted the bedsheets. you’ll have to replace them.
for now, exhaustion catches up to you now that your adrenaline has settled, and it only takes seconds for your eyes to droop closed.
๑
it feels as if just minutes have passed when your eyes snap open to the sound of someone swearing loudly.
bleary eyed, you jolt upright, double taking when you remember that you’re not alone. bakugo is now sat up, much to your surprise, however, you aren’t able to get a good look at him when he turns his head towards you.
because there’s now another person in the room.
hair as crimson as the blood that his friend had shed, with the red of his eyes to match, eijiro kirishima looms over his friend. he’s also tall, maybe even taller than the blonde haired man hunched over on your bed, his body equally as fit, biceps bulging as he hooks an arm under bakugo’s armpit, yanking him to his feet as if he weighs nothing.
you are on your feet in seconds, hands reaching with the intention to push the man with the blonde ‘fro back to the mattress. but before your fingertips can even touch him, kirishima is unkindly shoving you backwards, glowering as he gives you a once-over, jaw ticking.
‘move it, lady.’
‘he’s in no fit state to move,’ you protest.
kirishima barks out a laugh, easily balancing bakugo on one arm as he rudely jabs his index finger in your face. ‘trust me, he’s had worse.’ he waves his hand, indicating that you move, ‘now be a sweetheart and move over, i need to get him outta here.’
you stare up at him, eyes narrowing as his frame towering over yours as he takes a threatening step closer.
‘listen, lady,’ he seethes. ‘soon, this place’ll be swarmin’ and i need’ta get him outta here before they get here. he can’t fight like this.’ bakugo makes a noise, appearing on the brink of unconsciousness once more, head lolling against kirishima’s shoulder. you aren’t even sure how the redhead managed to break into your apartment in the first place, but you don’t need to question the mild panic that he allows to pass over his features, clearly concerned for his friend. he doesn’t wait for your reply, barging past as he hauls bakugo from the bedroom.
you follow after them, protesting.
‘you could re-open his wound!’
kirishima uses his spare hand to pull the front door open, ‘like i said, he’s had worse.’ he makes to pull his friend out of the apartment, but you halt him with a hand on his clothed shoulder.
‘w-wait!’
much to your relief, he does, watching as you disappear into the kitchen, noisily fumbling around in one of the cupboards. on rushed feet, you return, pressing a bottle of pain-killers into the palm of his hand. ‘at least make sure he takes these. they’ll help him,’ you plead. kirishima eyes you, expressionless eyes critical as he silently regards you. you’re not sure what he’s looking for, but he seems to approve, nodding once as he shoves the pills into the back pocket of his jeans.
just as kirishima is hauling him over the threshold, bakugo manages to lift his head, eyes barely open as he looks at you.
‘i owe you,’ he’s barely able to exhale, features twisting in pain as he clutches at his bandaged side. and then before you reply, they’re gone, disappearing out of your line of sight as the door to the apartment block closes, announcing their departure.
for a long time after, you stand in the doorway, waiting.
waiting for what, you do not know.
eventually, you lock the door before returning to the bedroom. the apartment is now eerily quiet as you listen to the sound of police sirens shrieking in the distance. slumping back into your chair, you rest your elbows on your thighs, pressing your face into the palms of your hands. you inhale, breath shaking as you wait until the sirens have faded into silence.
the entire encounter feels like a damned dream, but the blood-stained bedsheets are the only evidence of bakugo’s lingering presence.
and with a chest-heaving sigh, you suspect that this won’t be the last you’ll see of him.
© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.
much ado about nothing chapter 6 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!
DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.
ummmmm HIII so sorry i know i still owe you guys a million drabbles and i haven't been posting as much but this chapter is just chock-full of drama and i'm so excited to share it bc hehehe it's a rollercoaster. also we should def stop listening to sasha. sneaky posting; have fun babies!!!! i cannot WAIT to hear your thoughts
specific cws: alcohol use, violence (like fist-fighting level not insane), mentions of drugs, swearing, incredibly awkward tension lol
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“The course of true love never did run smooth.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare (Act I, Scene 1)
You’ve done a lot of partying in your days, but you never thought a hangover could float over your shoulders for damn near two weeks. Then again, maybe that rancid taste in your mouth is regret instead of the practical gallons of liquor you’d guzzled that night.
Historia tells you to delete the evidence, have a glass of wine with your friends, focus on your studies, put meaning back into the happy distractions that make up life. Sasha tells you to suck it up, download Tinder, do something other than wallow in your bed with nothing on but the fairy lights along your ceiling. Ymir tells you men aren’t worth embarrassing yourself for, maybe start swinging the other way, that she knows a few very pretty single ladies.
You meet all of their advice with a slow nod, sometimes a chuckle, put your head down, and go about your business, letting the shame follow you around like a little rain cloud from building to building around campus. Even your students have noticed something’s making you tick; Falco and Gabi left a package of Crumbl cookies in your office the other day, and for the first time, Zofia has begun to raise her hand in class. It’s heartwarming, really, but it doesn’t solve your problem.
Problems would be the better term for it. To start, there was your royal fuck-up with Eren. You had over-indulged and gotten a little too flirty to be “friends”, sure, it happens, but something had snapped in you when you saw Eren with that leggy blonde hanging all over him at the club.
Breeze. Even wearing naught but a skirt and some thin tights with the early winter wind whipping around your legs, just the thought of her name makes your blood boil. She was perfect, all bouncy and easygoing and cool, hippie clothes. To be fair, she was the one with the true claim on Eren; you had dug your own grave, far too confident in your ability to be just friends with someone so…so Eren.
Your friendship had been growing closer and closer by the passing day before that night, texting at nearly every minute of the day and spending time together wherever you could fit it in your full schedule. You had made plans to bake Christmas cookies together, even despite Eren’s protests that Christmas was a “capitalistic hellhole of a holiday season”, had acted out your favorite Shakespeare scenes in your pajamas, much to Eren’s amusement, and had made a habit of staying up late into the night watching and rewatching your favorite animes, heatedly debating characters. It had been butterfly-inducing, dizzying, perfect. Until you had indulged in one too many shots and humiliated yourself, that is.
Seeing Breeze all over Eren had made you realize the severity of your mistake trying to keep Eren in your life, realize the warm feeling blooming in your chest every time he grinned at you, all teeth and his little chin dimple, was decidedly much more than a platonic appreciation for a new friend. It turned out that you’d been right from the start; you weren’t his type, and to make matters worse, his actual taste in women had been thrust in your face unexpectedly.
When you had awoken the next morning, debating on whether to fall back asleep immediately or dash to the toilet, Historia had greeted you with a sorry smile, a cup of coffee, and a quiet word of advice to look through your phone. Knowing your drunken self, you pulled up your phone calls first, wanting to make sure you hadn’t accidentally Facetimed your mom to tell her how much fun you were having or something cringe-worthy of the sort. But no, of course it had to be much worse than that.
There was a phone call– to Eren. Your call log had recorded a one minute and thirty-six second phone call between you and Eren, one you obviously didn’t remember making.
“Please tell me you were with me when I called Eren,” you groan, so naive, “did I completely embarrass myself?”
Historia blushes. “Well, he didn’t answer, if it’s any consolation–”
“Oh, thank god–”
“But that didn’t exactly stop you,” Historia fiddles with the edge of her t-shirt, “you left him a voicemail.”
Even through your throbbing headache, you shoot right up out of bed at that. “What?! What did I say?”
“I don’t know,” Historia moans woefully, putting her hands over her face, “I’m sorry, I tried to stop you, but you ran off as soon as you started talking. By the time I caught up to you, you were already hanging up.”
“So, there’s a voicemail from drunk me on Eren’s phone, and neither of us have any idea what it says?”
“Correct.”
“My life fucking sucks.”
“It’s about to get a whole lot worse,” Historia says, throwing your sheets back and snuggling beside you in the bed, burrowing her face in your shoulder, “check your texts.”
And oh, had it gotten worse. Your drunken, foolish text sat in your outbox, unanswered, unread, and inexcusable. Six months later and you were right back where you started, begging a ghost of a man to explain why he couldn’t love you.
> hi luke, i’m sorta ficked up, but i misz you. why did yoi never call me???? you owe me at leasttg that. a fcking explanation,.
Storming through campus, coat tucked around your shoulders against the biting chill, you wince at the memory. You haven’t deleted the unanswered text yet, keeping it stale in your phone as a reminder of what happens when you get too attached to people you know aren’t good for you.
You thought you’d be more heartbroken over the text to Luke and its lack of an answer, but surprisingly, you’re not. It’s Eren haunting your thoughts, Luke’s just the placeholder for all of your anger at this point. Eren isn’t to blame for all of this, you are, and that’s why you can’t bring yourself to face him, can’t bring yourself to answer any of the hesitant texts he’s sent you since that god-awful night.
You’re not in college anymore, you have to keep reminding yourself. You’re twenty-four, and you’d like to think you’re past the phase of your life where you’re handing your heart out to anyone that passes like it’s a Costco sample. You aren’t even sure if you want Luke anymore at this point, if you could even speak to him if you bumped into him these days. He had, admittedly, treated you like dirt, wrenched your heart out from your chest and left it on the sidewalk to collect dust. At least you can hate him, hate what he did to you, hate that you’re stuck on him like a broken record skipping to the same chorus every few weeks.
You can’t hate Eren, though. You can be disappointed in him for entertaining his terrible ex-girlfriend, not aloud of course because he hadn’t actually mentioned her to you himself, but you can do it internally. Even that isn’t enough to make you feel better; not only had he not trusted you, not felt safe or comfortable enough with you to share the skeletons in his closet, but he was likely zooming full-speed down a dead-end street, the way Sasha tells the story. Your heart aches for him out of a painful mixture of pining and fervent concern.
Your only solution so far has been to dive headfirst into your coursework and your students; it hasn’t done much to distract you, but with finals on the horizon, it’s not the worst method of coping you’ve come up with in your days.
Your newly invigorated dedication to your work and your courses are the cause of you dragging yourself across campus to 104, desperate for caffeine and practically a corpse after two weeks of near-constant self-shaming keeping you up at night.
The smell of the coffee shop, earthy and warm, hits you almost as hard as the blasting heat inside, and you practically slouch upon entering, the weight of the cozy atmosphere cocooning you like a warm blanket. If there’s one place that will always feel like a hug, it’s 104 Beans, your coffee shop of choice (and obligation, considering the small size of your campus) for the last six years.
Pieck, your favorite barista, greets you in her typical dreamy manner. “Hi love, same as usual?”
“Hey Pieck,” you greet her with a weary smile. As you dig around in your bag for your wallet, the extent of your exhaustion versus the amount of work you have left to do surfaces in your brain. “Actually…no, not my usual. Can I get a quad shot Americano?”
Pieck pauses where she’s scribbling onto a paper cup with a Sharpie, eyes flitting back up to you in disbelief. “A quad shot Americano?”
“A quad shot Americano.”
“Jesus,” Pieck sighs, eyes wide, “work’s that rough, huh? Black coffee not going to cut it?”
“The shakes will be worth it,” you confirm, swiping your card through the machine.
“Can I please make it a cappuccino then? You’re going to need something creamy to get all that espresso down,” Pieck looks back up at you, eyes pleading.
“Fine,” you sigh, “but–”
“Almond milk, I know,” Pieck winks at you, sliding your cup down the assembly line of baristas working amongst the hissing of the espresso machine and the pleasant, folky music floating from the speakers. “We’re a little busy, so give me five and I’ll bring it over to you.”
You smile gratefully and collect your things, turning to scout out what’s hopefully a quiet table in the corner, when a pair of arms tossed around your shoulders stops you. The familiar scent of fruity perfume tickles your nose, and you slump against the tight grip in relief.
“You made it out of the house!” Sasha’s eyes glow with pride, as if you’d just run a marathon.
“It’s not like I’m a hermit,” you roll your eyes, “I have class five days a week.”
“You don’t go anywhere besides class or your house though, so you still get participation points,” Sasha grins, shaking your shoulders, “how are you feeling?”
“Well…”
Sasha’s expression crumples. “Still that bad, huh?”
“The Luke thing was pathetic of me, but honestly, it’s not haunting me as much as I thought it would,” you admit, pausing for a moment to allow Sasha to grab her coffee from the barista when her name is called, “the one thing that’s really sticking with me is the Eren issue.”
“Like, the voicemail? Or Breeze?”
“Both. I would give anything to know what that voicemail said, but whatever was going on between us aside, I just hope he’s okay, y’know? With Breeze back in the picture and everything.”
Sasha bites into her bottom lip and glances around the coffee shop, checking every face at every table. You know that face; she’s hiding something.
“What?”
“What?” Sasha cocks her head innocently. You nearly smack her.
“You’re not telling me something.”
“Uh…okay, yeah, I’m not, but I’m not sure if I should. I mean, you’re actually out of the house–”
“I leave my house plenty!”
“You know what I mean,” Sasha scoffs, “it’s just…if you’re feeling better, I don’t want to throw you back into the deep end.”
You have no words for that, absolutely despising the way that she is completely correct. Whatever information lies behind Sasha’s bitten lip could either make you feel a hundred times better or a hundred times worse, and you’re stuck debating on whether you should gamble or not when Sasha makes the decision for you.
“Fine, you wore me down,” she sighs.
“I didn’t even say anything,” you point out, raising an eyebrow.
“You don’t have to,” Sasha says, annoyed, “you have this, like, fucking puppy dog look. Makes me sick. Get your coffee, I’ll find a table, and we can talk.”
Like clockwork, the moment Sasha steps away, Pieck grabs your attention and hands your coffee over along with an extra hot cup half-full of steamed almond milk. You look at her questioningly, and she merely shrugs.
“That’s a lot of espresso. I know you’re in, like, your depressed writer phase right now, but I figured a little extra milk would come in handy.”
“You’re the best,” you smile at her affectionately, thinking absentmindedly that you should invite her out to Scout’s sometime. Before she can respond, Pieck’s gaze lands on something just over your shoulder. You can smell him even before you turn around, musky cologne and a little hint of weed. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
“Hey Pieck. Usual?” His throaty timbre cuts through the thick air, sharp as a knife. Pieck nods politely and gets to work on his coffee, forgoing a trip to the cash register. That tracks; Pieck’s hooded eyes are bloodshot more often than not.
“Excuse me,” you mutter, trying to sneak around him, but Eren’s quicker than you, side-stepping to cut you off.
“Hey stranger,” he smiles down at you, but it’s tense, nervous, “trying to run off on me?”
“Didn’t even realize that was you, sorry,” you lie, offering him a thin smile in return. You spot Sasha gaping at you across the cafe, waving her arms wildly and mouthing What the fuck?. You can’t help but feel similarly.
“It’s been awhile, how are you?”
“M’fine, just really busy with school.” God, you hate this, this awkward small talk barely parsing its way through the jungle of things left unsaid between you two. “You?”
“Fine,” Eren looks around awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Good,” you speak directly into your coffee, unable to stomach the emerald green peering down at you.
“You know,” Eren’s words come out quite like he can’t believe he’s saying them, “I kinda thought you were avoiding me.”
“Did you?” Your voice is caught in your throat, coming out in a pathetic squeak. Has he heard the voicemail? The startling turn the conversation’s taken must be visible all over your face, because Sasha’s flailing arms beckoning you over to the table grow more urgent.
“You haven’t texted me back, haven’t seen you in a couple weeks,” Eren’s incredibly focused on his shoes, kicking one Vans sneaker idly back and forth on the floor and making a squeaking sound, “so yeah, sort of.”
“I’m busy,” you deadpan, praying to any god you can remember the name of that you’ll just disintegrate right where you stand. Eren meets your eyes again, smirks disbelievingly.
“You said that.”
Something in his tone annoys you, something about his insinuation that he knows you’re blatantly lying, that he’s teasing you over your embarrassment, ignites a little flame in your chest. You scowl at him.
“I mean, you must be pretty busy too.”
“Why’s that?”
“Breeze just got back into town, didn’t she?” No going back now. Eren’s face blanches for a moment, features growing pale, but he manages to school his face back into that nonchalant pout that you want to slap right off his face.
“Historia told you?” He doesn’t sound surprised; in face, he sounds almost expectant, like he knew you’d find out at some point. It stakes the embers burning in your chest.
“She’s my best friend, so yeah.” This feels like an argument. It shouldn’t be an argument, but your clipped tone is pushing it in that direction. You’ve spent the last two weeks reminding yourself that you have no claim on Eren, no reason to be hurt or upset, but here you are, feeling that familiar rush of anger coursing through your veins.
“I mean, we haven’t been hanging out or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Who said I was worried?”
Eren’s eyebrows knit together, a little frown playing at his mouth. “I don’t know, I mean–”
“Look, Sasha’s waiting for me,” you point over Eren’s shoulder to the little two-top table, where Sasha has stilled within the blink of an eye, shooting Eren an innocent smile and a little wave. “I’d love to catch up, but maybe another time.”
“It was good seeing you.” Eren looks confused, albeit, a little bit hurt, and you hate it. Why is that so much worse, even worse than the sight of him with Breeze hanging off of his arm? His little pout puts a needle through your ballooning anger, and you deflate, sighing.
“I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”
“Yeah,” Eren takes his coffee from Pieck and ambles towards the door, sparing you one last glance over his shoulder. Unwilling to hold his eyes any longer, you scurry to your table, just having realized that Pieck forgot to put a coffee sleeve around your cup and that it’s been burning your hand for the last several minutes.
“Ow! Shit!” You practically crash land across from Sasha, dropping your cups in synchronicity and shaking your red palms around in the air to cool them down.
“What was that?” Sasha hisses, leaning across the table so viciously that your drinks nearly topple over.
“He just showed up!”
“You didn’t have to talk to him.”
“I didn’t try to. He just, like, materialized behind me and started talking. What was I supposed to do? Run away?”
“Little shit,” Sasha swears, glaring at the door as if her anger can shoot through it like a laser beam, cut Eren down where he’s surely almost a block down the street by now, “what did he say?”
“He asked if I’ve been avoiding him," you say, twirling your wooden coffee stirrer through your drink idly and trying to look as if your heart’s not still beating at what’s sure to be a dangerous rate.
“Well, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He got all smug about it,” you scoff, the replayed scene of Eren’s self-assured smirk wiping off of his face bringing you a little bit of petty satisfaction, “until I brought up Breeze.”
Sasha’s eyes grow wide, and she looks around the coffee shop again, as if Eren or Breeze might come popping out of one of the large potted plants in the corners. “That’s actually what I wanted to tell you. What did he say about it?”
“What did you hear?” You narrow your eyes at her, and she narrows hers back.
“You first.”
“He didn’t say much, just looked really surprised that I brought her up. Said they haven’t been hanging out.”
“That’s bullshit,” Sasha snorts, rolling her eyes. Something in your chest that had begun to glimmer, something akin to hope, feels like it just got a bucket of ice-water poured over it. You cock your head, furrow your brows.
“How would you know?”
“Because Hitch and I grabbed some coffee–”
“Hitch? I thought that was a–”
“Okay, don’t crucify me, I know,” Sasha holds her hands up defensively, “it was supposed to be a one night stand, but…I don’t know. She’s cool.”
“Cool?” Even through your desperation for anything Eren-related after a two week drought, you smile knowingly at her. Sasha’s not hard to read, especially when her face goes bright red from chin to forehead.
“Yes,” she hisses, “cool. Anyway, we came by a few days ago, and Eren was here. With Breeze.”
“I mean, I expected as much.”
You’re lying, you’re so lying. The only consolation you’ve had over the last two weeks that you’re not a complete moron is the hope that maybe, just maybe, Eren’s just as forlorn as you, laying around and wishing his phone would buzz with your name on it, wishing you’d pop up at his door with a bag of popcorn ready for movie night. Instead, your worst suspicions have been confirmed, and not only is Eren very much involved with Breeze again, but he had lied straight to your face about it. Ouch.
“They weren’t like, holding hands or anything. Honestly, it looked like they were fighting.”
“Well, what did Hitch say about it?” You don’t even know if you want to know, but with your brain short-circuiting inside your skull, your mouth has free reign to seek out information that will be about as soothing as lemon juice on a papercut.
“Eren won’t talk to any of them about her,” Sasha burns her tongue on her coffee and sucks in a sharp breath, “not even Armin, apparently. She said he’s been moody lately.”
“Wonder why,” you mumble, mulling all of this new information over in your head. Breeze is bad for him, makes him crazy, you already know that. But you didn’t think it would start this soon– you feel like if anything, he should be ecstatic that his long-lost love has finally come back to him. And he can stop trying to replace her, your brain adds helpfully, only doubling the watery ache swelling in your chest.
“Who cares?” Sasha rips open a granola bar, biting into it and continuing to speak with her mouth full. “That’s why you’ve got to stop avoiding him.”
“Huh? That seems like the opposite–”
“No,” Sasha cuts you off, an air of authority in her normally chipper voice, “you’re not going to cower in the corner just because Eren’s back with his shitty ex girlfriend–”
“It’s not just because of Breeze,” you correct her, “it’s because of that voicemail. I have no idea what I said. There’s a lot that’s contributing to my self-induced isolation, trust me.”
“Regardless,” Sasha mouths around another bite of her granola bar, “the only thing that will make you feel better is being around him.”
“That sounds a little contradictory–”
“Trust me,” Sasha interrupts you again, “the best way to make a guy come around is to be up in his face, flaunting how hot and single you are, and to not give him an ounce of your attention. It’s a tried and true method, I promise.”
It turns out that you are a beacon for those with bad ideas, evidently, because later that night, you’ve ended up at Scout’s, cuddled up against the bar with Sasha despite Historia’s fervent protests. If Historia shows up later, just to “check in” (read: see what’s come of Sasha’s terrible plan), you won’t be surprised. She’s prone to being the mom friend and the harbinger of gossip, but she hasn’t shown face quite yet. It’s just you, Sasha, and a handful of regulars, sipping unreasonably cold beers and trying to act as if the early December chill hasn’t rattled you to your bones.
“This is a stupid idea,” you murmur against the lip of your bottle, trying not to seem as unnerved as you are, even after an hour of waiting and sipping. Sasha scoffs beside you, picking through your near-empty basket of peanut shells in search of a full pod.
“It’s not. He’ll be here.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you dragged me out. It only took a week for me to start missing this place,” you run a thoughtful hand along the varnished wooden bartop, “but I’m just still not sure about this whole seeing-Eren-on-purpose thing.”
Before Sasha can answer, the door swings open to reveal the man in question: Eren, accompanied by Armin and Connie, as always, and sporting his standard uniform. Black hoodie, slouchy khaki pants that are tightened around the ankles, and his beat-up Vans.
You nearly sigh into your drink at how delicious he looks, only stopping when the little voice in your head reminds you that the voicemail you’d left him exists. Friends– no, strangers now? The concept of labeling your bizarre, gray-areas-only relationship with Eren brings a chuckle up your throat, one that spills onto the bar.
You can feel him watching you, but to your simultaneous surprise and disappointment, he gives you space, sidling up to the bar a few seats down from where you and Sasha are occupying a couple of bar stools. When Connie throws up a cheerful hand in greeting to you, you tentatively wave back, only for Armin to grab Connie’s attention and turn him toward the bar.
“Ha!” Sasha says triumphantly, looking at you with her eyes glowing like you’re supposed to have reached a revelation of some sort. “See?”
“Did you plot this with Connie?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion.
“No, I’m just a genius, that’s all.”
“I feel like your theory is being proven wrong, not right. He’s not even sitting near us.”
“Because you have the upper hand!” Sasha grins.
“The upper hand?”
“Yeah, he’s giving you some space so you can make the first move, get what you want out of him.”
“And what do I want out of him?” You nearly growl in your frustration, feeling silly sitting exactly four barstools down from Eren with him running through your mind as if he isn’t close enough to just hop up and hug. It’s a genuine question more than a rhetorical one; you’re not even sure what you expect out of him anymore. Another fuck? A fancy date night? A lifetime worth of radio silence, as if Eren isn’t the person you’ve connected better with than nearly anyone else in your romantic history?
Sasha’s brows furrow. “Don’t you know?”
“No! That’s what I was trying to tell you!”
“Oh,” Sasha frowns, rubs her chin, “we should have figured that part out before we came, I guess.”
“Sasha!” You whisper-hiss, ever mindful of what you’re sure to be prying ears only a few feet away. “So you have no plan?”
Sasha stumbles, stutters, and eventually, flushes bright red with a shrug. “Okay, fine, I have no plan. But at least it’s something to break up your routine of laying in bed eating chips and moping around the library.”
“You’re such a bitch.” You roll your eyes, but you don’t mean it, not really. Regardless of how things stand, at the very least you can sneak little glances at Eren, take in how good he looks– no, you correct yourself firmly. You hopped off that train of your own accord, and you’re better for it.
With some verbal manhandling, you goad Sasha into a lull of small talk, classes, anything that comes to mind. A pair of eyes finds you, not the emerald that keeps you up at night, but a pair of hazel old-and-new eyes draw to you, and you can feel the scratch of an unwelcome gaze on your skin.
“Floch’s here,” you state the obvious, sipping your drink and giving no physical indication that you’ve noticed him, staring straight ahead as you mutter to Sasha.
“Christ, this was not a good idea,” Sasha groans, face-palming.
“Wow, I sure wish that someone had suggested this was a bad idea, wouldn’t that have been nice?”
“Shut up,” Sasha says, peeking warily over her shoulder, “I think that’s Hitch in the corner, too.”
You frown, confused at the hunched, anxious change in her posture. “Why are you being weird? Go say hey.”
“I’m not abandoning you!”
“Oh, shut it. Why are you really being weird?”
“I, uh…” Sasha twirls her beer around on the counter, blushing, “I haven’t texted her back in like, four or five days.”
“Sasha! You like her, I can tell. What’s gotten into you?”
“It was supposed to be a one-night thing,” Sasha moans, letting her face fall dramatically into her hands, “and then it was movie nights and coffee and just…way beyond casual hooking up. I like her, but…I don’t know! I panicked.”
You chew on her admission for a second, selfishly comparing Sasha’s situation to your own. Was that what you were doing with Eren? No, surely not, but was that what he was doing with you? You knew he had loved Breeze, that she had wrecked him, but maybe…just maybe some small part of you wants to hope that he’s moved on, that the coffee shop sighting was a fluke.
You shoo Sasha in Hitch’s direction, demanding she run over to apologize and make nice with Hitch, partially to save Sasha’s first shot at a real relationship in years and partially because you want to stew alone with your thoughts. Before you can get too deep into your black hole of what ifs, a familiar presence is sliding into Sasha’s seat, grinning lewdly.
You sigh; it was only a matter of time before he sought you out.
“What do you want, Forster?”
“Last name only? Ouch,” Floch places a hand over his heart, drumming the fingers of his other hand on the countertop. You recognize his demeanor immediately: pupils blown wide, buzzing to the brim with nervous energy. Floch’s always dabbled in party drugs, part of why you could only stand to be around him in small doses back when you were hooking up.
“Are you coked out right now?” Mindful of Levi’s hovering presence behind the bar, you keep your voice to a low hiss.
“So you can’t call me by my first name, but you can ask such personal questions? Jesus, you really are full of it, aren’t you?”
“Floch,” you nearly groan in frustration, “I thought I made it perfectly clear the last time I saw you that I’m not interested.”
“Why are you being so mean to me, hm?” Floch snakes a hand around your shoulders, jostling you until your face is mere inches from his. You’re more than aware of a pair of green eyes nearly boring a hole in your forehead, and you feel a pang of regret that you sent Sasha away so quickly, remembering far too late that Hitch’s table doesn’t offer a great view of where you’re seated at the bar.
“I’m not being mean,” you try to push at him, but he’s locked around you, “I’m just not interested.”
“Stop being such a bitch, Jesus Christ,” Floch finally lets you shove him away from you, but he’s far from done, “when did you get so stuck up, huh?”
“Floch. Keep your voice down, and walk away.” You try to warn him; Floch may be a pain in your ass, but you’d like to believe that he’s not a bad guy, deep down. You’re too late, however.
Eren’s materialized between you and Floch before you can blink, before you can even get another word out. His sudden presence forces you out of your barstool, stepping around him to get a better read on what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Eren seems not to notice you trying to insert yourself between him and Floch, and the look on his face makes you step back momentarily.
He looks terrifying. Eren’s nostrils are flaring, eyes blown wide and jaw clenched tight. He’s taking full advantage of his height, glaring down at Floch with such menace that if looks could kill, Floch would already be laid out on the floor.
“Get the fuck out of here, dude. She said no.”
“What are you, her little guard dog?” Floch, infamous for never knowing what’s best for him, scoffs at Eren’s incredibly intimidating posture.
“Maybe I am,” Eren sneers, “I’m damn sure not going to sit there and let you speak to her like that.”
“Who’s this loser?” Connie’s to your right now, gesturing to Floch. You don’t miss the telltale clenching of Eren’s hands by his side, and it hits your dizzied mind what’s going on. Eren’s going to end up swinging if you don’t interfere, and Connie’s there for backup.
“Floch, please.” You reach a feeble hand up to Floch’s chest, trying to gently push him in the other direction.
In the blink of an eye, Floch’s grabbing you by the wrist hard enough to solicit a yelp from your lips, throwing your arm away from him with a look of disgust.
“Oh, so now you want to touch me, bitch?”
No sooner has Floch’s hand released your arm than Connie’s got his arms wrapped around you, yanking you out of the crossfire. Amidst a series of gasps, Eren grabs Floch around the back of the neck, pins him face-first to the bar.
“Jaeger!” Levi barks sharply, darting over to the scene of the commotion.
“Is that what gets you off, huh?” Eren’s nearly nose-to-nose with Floch, whose busted lip is twisted in a grimace and dribbling little bits of blood onto the varnished bartop. “Calling women bitches when they don’t want your little dick?”
“Let him go, Eren,” Armin tries to intervene, having already dashed over from his barstool. You want to back him up, but you’re frozen where you’re pinned to Connie’s chest, trembling in his arms. You know Eren’s a little rough-and-tumble, but this, seeing it in real life, is much more terrifying than you could have imagined.
“What the hell? Are you okay?” You can hear Sasha’s voice from beside you, close enough to touch but distant in comparison to where your vision is zeroed in on Eren’s grip on the back of Floch’s neck.
“Answer me!” Eren rears Floch back a few inches and slams him against the bar again. Floch curses under his breath, wriggles fruitlessly under Eren’s weight.
“Get the fuck off me, Jaeger!”
“You fucking wish,” Eren hisses, tightening his grip further, “now apologize to my girl before you make me do something I’ll regret.”
“Eren,” you find your voice again, shaking out of Connie’s grip. You fist your hands into Eren’s hoodie sleeves, tugging hard enough to get his attention. “He’s not worth it. Let him go.”
“Listen to her, Jaeger,” Levi’s already-deep voice is stained with warning.
When you pull at his sleeve a little harder, Eren turns to you, eyes still blown wide and teeth bared. It startles you, but you hold firm, setting your own jaw and shaking your head.
“Let. Him. Go. Now, Eren.” You’re not sure how you’ve managed to muster up the conviction in your voice, but you’re grateful for it, as it seems to shake Eren back into himself. Eren slowly releases Floch and in the same easy motion, he guides you behind him with one long, strong arm.
“You,” Levi points accusingly at Floch, “out.”
Floch’s jaw drops. “I didn’t even–”
“Out.” Levi’s tone leaves no room for argument, and Floch seems to understand at least that. He turns his glare back to you and Eren, scowling deeply.
“The next time I see you, Jaeger, it’s fucking over.”
“Get lost before you make me fucking embarrass you,” Eren says, voice dripping with venom. Floch shakes his head, lets his gaze land on you. A chilling smile breaks over his features.
“Next time, sweetheart.”
“Get the fuck out of here already, bro,” Connie snaps, pointing towards the exit. Floch takes his leave, sauntering towards the door with all the confidence of someone who hadn’t just been pinned against the countertop. A heavy, staticky silence falls over the bar.
“If I see you fighting in here again, it’s over.” Levi’s cold eyes fall on Eren, who nods curtly in understanding. Eren brushes his hands through his hair, rests a hand on the bun at the back of his head. Something strange is coursing through your body; something that tastes like anger, burns like heartbreak, falls bitter on your tongue like envy.
“Are you okay?” Sasha appears at your side again, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Floch’s such a psycho, I’m not even surprised he picked a fight.”
You nod numbly, eyes never leaving Eren. He finally looks back down at you, none of the heat having left his eyes.
“What the fuck was that?” It takes you a moment to realize that it’s you speaking, you throwing those words up the inches from your mouth to Eren’s. Eren’s face contorts into a frown.
“What do you mean? He was bothering you, wasn’t he?”
“So you try to fight him?” You seethe. Maybe it is anger, this bizarre, foreign emotion tingling at the tips of your fingers. No, that’s not quite it, you’re not angry you’re just…confused. Hurt that Eren’s frolicking around with Breeze, doing whatever he pleases, and yet, he’s jumping into bar fights to save you from the tangible evidence of your past.
“What do you expect me to do when someone talks to you like that?” Eren hisses back, eyes narrowed.
Sasha’s backed away from the two of you now; you’re aware of your friends staring at you, noses scrunched as they try to figure out exactly what’s happening now. You wish you had an answer to give them, but all you can muster is this heartache shooting out of your mouth in the form of daggers.
“I don’t need you,” you spit, “I don’t need your protection.”
“It didn’t exactly look like you had that handled,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“Oh, and what are you? My knight in shining fucking armor? Don’t you have other damsels in distress waiting for you?” It’s too far, you know that as soon as the words leave your mouth, but the liquid courage Sasha had insisted upon is making your tongue sharper than you’d anticipated.
Eren rears back from where he’s hunched to meet you on your level, nostrils flaring again. Before you can utter another word, he’s got an arm thrown around your shoulders none-too-gently, practically dragging your stumbling feet towards the exit.
“Outside.”
PLAYING PRETEND ⋆✦⋆ bokuto koutaro
synopsis ➸ you’ve been the one to help bokuto out of tight situations all your life, but now he’s put you in the toughest spot yet. with his team eager to meet the girl he’s “been dating for years,” you’ll have to pull off the act of a lifetime—and bokuto’s loving every second of it.
tags ➸ childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, posséssive behavior, fluff, praise kínk, semi-public, heavy petting, dírty talking, cunniłingus, unprotécted séx, overstimúlation, manhándling
wc ➸ 25.3k (i’m sorry i’m reverting back to writing lengthier stuff)
You groaned as the shrill trilling of your phone cleaved through the velvety silence of the night like a fog horn. A glance at the display confirmed it was well past midnight - definitely past any reasonable hour for civil human interaction. Only one person would have the audacity to disturb your slumber at this ungodly hour.
Squinting against the harsh LED glare, you felt your lips tug into a disgruntled frown as Bokuto's stupid, gorgeous face filled the screen. Of course he wasn't just calling - the human embodiment of chaos always insisted on FaceTiming, never content until he could fully bombard you with his exaggerated expressions and mile-a-minute vocal acrobatics.
"For the love of God, Bokuto..." you grumbled, scrubbing the heel of your palm across your bleary eyes as you accepted the call with a resigned tap. "This had better involve a level four or higher crisis, otherwise I'm finding flight details to drop-kick you into the nearest active volcanooooohhh my god, what is that look?"
Through the slightly grainy camera feed, Bokuto's distinctive gold-colored irises blew wide in a parody of theatric innocence, chin already trembling precariously as he arranged his cherubic features into that impossibly pathetic pout he knew you were powerless against. The disarming effect was only amplified by the casual tangle of silvery-streaked locks framing his visage and the oversized tee riding low enough to showcase the sinewy definition of his bare collarbones.
"Don't give me that look, I know exactly what you're doing," you fired back, squaring your shoulders in a valiant effort at steeling your defenses against the impending barrage of whining and guilt-tripping sure to come. "There's no crisis dire enough to justify you faceplanting into my DMs looking like...like that at this time of night."
"C'monnnn, don't be so grumpy!" Bokuto whined, the faintest hint of a whine already creeping into his dulcet tones as he blinked those ridiculously long, feathery lashes up at you from beneath the messy sheaf of pale fringe draping across his brow. "I just really needed to see my favorite person in the whole wide world's pretty face, that's all! Is that so wrong of me?"
You snorted at the blatant placation attempt even as you felt your initial irritation softening fractionally against your will. Leave it to Bokuto to put that honeyed-rasp of a voice and those achingly earnest puppy-dog peepers to devastating use from the get-go.
"Spare me the nauseating theatrics, Bo," you deadpanned, shaking your head in exaggerated exasperation. "You and I both know there's approximately a zero percent chance you'd willingly go this long without demanding my undivided attention for some fresh nonsense."
Bokuto's boyishly handsome features scrunched into an exaggerated pout at your bald-faced dismissals, all put-upon petulance and ruffled feathers in a display so quintessentially 'him' that you couldn't quite fight off the warm fluttering taking up residence in your chest. The sort of helpless, reflexive fondness you could only ever seem to muster for this unrepentant goof of a human being.
"Aww, but I'm being so good tonight!" He pressed out his lower lip even further, fluttering those damnable lashes until they practically bristled. "I haven't even mentioned how distracting my butt looked in those new compression shorts for our last game, have I?"
You choked on a startled bark of laughter at that before quickly stifling the sound, eyes sparking in a fresh blaze of undisguised amusement as you shook your head.
"And just like that, we're officially off the rails into Bokuto Chaos Territory. Well done, dude - solid fifteen-second delay on taking us there this time! I think that's a new record for you."
Grinning unabashedly now, Bokuto simply shrugged those broad shoulders in an artfully cavalier manner. It was impossible to miss the way the fabric of his shirt pulled taut across the impressively sculpted contours in the process - evidence of the punishing regimen his role as a professional athlete now demanded. But the undeniably roguish flare of his smirk ensured you had no doubts as to whether he was entirely aware of the effect he was having.
"What can I say? I aim t'please - especially you, babe. You know you're the only woman I'll ever willingly melt for like this."
The wink he punctuated that observation with - sly and effortlessly charming – nearly caused you to swallow your own tongue as you choked on an incoherent grumble of chiding. But he was already pressing on before you could formulate an appropriately withering rejoinder, all boyish eagerness and showman's flair.
"Listen, I wouldn't have dared to disturb the beauty regimen of the literal love of my life except this is an official, code red, four-alarm crisis in desperate need of your guidance!"
You sighed through your nose, squeezing the bridge of it between your thumb and forefinger in a futile bid at staving off the headache you could already feel brewing between your temples. Right, because of course this was all leading toward one of Bokuto's utterly absurd requests inevitably spiraling out to cosmic levels of mayhem and chaos. As usual.
"Fine," you grunted in feigned resignation, locking eyes with his screen depiction. You felt another small thrill at the sight of him leaning in hungrily, clearly hanging on your every word and reaction. "Go ahead and lay this so-called 'crisis' on me, Koutaro - just try to be slightly more coherent with the details this time. I'm fresh out of patience for wading through your usual mile-a-minute mouth dribbling tonight."
The mirth swiftly drained from Bokuto's expression at your gruff demand, his handsome features crumpling like a deflated balloon. You immediately recognized the telltale signs - lips pursing into a mulish downward curl, shoulders slumping heavily, those normally vibrant eyes going dull and shuttered.
"Uh oh, looks like someone's Emo Mode is kicking in early tonight," you drawled, unable to resist prodding that particular bear just a little. "Whatever could have trampled all over your sunshine-y disposition this time, hm?"
Bokuto fidgeted, worrying his full lower lip between rows of straight white teeth. His gaze skittered away from the camera, drifting somewhere over your shoulder before finally returning to pin you with an unmistakably stricken look.
"It's really bad this time, okay?" His voice emerged hushed, raspy in a way that plucked straight at the protective heartstrings you'd carried for him since childhood. "I did something incredibly stupid, and now I desperately need you to agree to an absolutely massive favor to get me out of the hole I've dug myself into."
You arched one eyebrow coolly, regarding him through narrow slits of growing exasperation. This was hardly the first instance of Bokuto landing himself up shit creek without a paddle thanks to his penchant for reckless word-vomiting. More often than not, you found yourself recruited into whatever foolish messes he stumbled into like a moderating life raft, tasked with the unenviable job of buffering the chaos and keeping him tethered to reality before everything went utterly pear-shaped.
"Lay it on me then. Can't be any worse than that time you convinced half the Fukurodani squad you were an actual descendant of Athena and could communicate with barn owls telepathically."
Your words seemed to jog something in Bokuto's prodigious memory, because he instantly bristled with an affronted squawk.
"Hey, that wasn't all my fault and you know it! Yukippe is the one who planted that stupid seed in my head about having 'superior avian DNA' or whatever!"
You shrugged one shoulder indolently, the ghost of a taunting smile playing about the corners of your mouth as you drank in the chagrined flush stealing across Bokuto's cheekbones. For all his blustering displays of hot-blooded machismo, the guy was still just an overgrown kid at heart - so delightfully easy to fluster when called out on his adorably skewed flights of fancy.
"Sure, sure. And I suppose she's also responsible for you spending three straight months insisting we all address you as 'Grand Duke Koutarov' until Akaashi finally caught you raiding the home ec kitchen for expired bird seed?"
The sheepish chuckle that rumbled from Bokuto's throat in response was answer enough. You smirked, satisfaction curling hot in your belly at having seized the teasing ground even as he attempted to rally with one of those boyish pouts specifically engineered to bend you to his whims.
"Okayyyyy, maybe that one got a little out of hand," he hedged slowly, raking one hand through the wild thatch of salt-and-pepper locks tumbling into his eyes. The motion only made him look more adorably tousled and inviting - lush mouth slack and bee-stung, those biceps cording with well-trained definition beneath the snug fabric of his worn tee.
Not for the first time, you found yourself dragging your attention away from dissecting every arresting detail of him with conscious effort. A futile battle, that, as your eyes were perpetually drawn back to mapping those razor-sharp cheekbones and heavy-lidded bedroom stare with undisguised appreciation.
Friends you might be, but you'd have to be legally brain-dead to somehow miss just how devastatingly, panty-scramblingly gorgeous Bokuto Kotaro had become with age and athletic refinement. The thought caused a sudden flush of warmth to bloom beneath your chest, accompanied by a series of highly unbecoming images you swiftly banished to some dark, neglected recess of your mind.
"But this is way worse than any of that stuff, I swear!" Bokuto pressed ahead with renewed urgency. The slight wheeze of desperation underpinning his words was enough to snare your focus anew, brow furrowing in spite of your attempts at preserving a lofty detachment. "The guys on my team, the Jackals...they've been giving me so much shit lately about never having had a serious girlfriend before. Just relentlessly harassing me over being some kinda hopeless bachelor still at my age."
You rolled your eyes at that, already feeling a fresh swell of exasperation mounting as you sensed where this was likely headed. Of course the emotionally stunted jock culture surrounding professional sports would latch onto something as childishly reductive as romantic experience to rag on one of their star players about.
"So let me guess," you cut in dryly before Bokuto could really get the waterworks flowing in full force. "Rather than taking the high road or simply telling your idiot teammates to mind their own business, you decided to spice things up by dumping out some fresh batches of bullshit instead, right? Claimed you've secretly been in a torrid love affair for years with some lucky mystery woman to get them off your back?"
As the words left your lips, Bokuto's expression morphed into one of comically exaggerated horror - liquid mercury irises blowing wide until they seemed to compose nearly the entirety of his face, plush mouth dropping open in a strangled uh wuh uh noise of shocked dismay. You snorted indelicately at the sight, rapping one knuckle against the screen in a chiding gesture.
"Bingo," you crooned with a roll of your eyes, already sensing the meltdown rapidly reaching critical mass. "God, for an actual adult who's supposed to be the shining beacon on an internationally ranked sports franchise, you can be such an utter child sometimes."
Bokuto gaped at you for a long stretch of incredulous silence before finally seeming to recapture the power of speech, sputtering and flailing his way back onto what you assumed was meant to be some sort of defensive tack.
"How-how do you always just...just know me so freakishly well like this?!" He threw up his hands in an explosive burst of frustration, hair flying in wild disarray with the sudden motion. "I haven't even told you the critical details yet and you're already riding my case like some omniscient psychic dictator! It's almost scary how well you've got me pegged after all these years, babe."
Despite his blustery indignation, you easily detected the undercurrent of fondness that lurked just beneath the gruff protestations. Hell, you'd have to be utterly dense not to pick up on just how much your longtime connection meant to the human embodiment of chaos currently squirming under your scrutiny.
"First of all, take about five deep breaths and quit channeling that patented 'Emo Mode' overdrive of yours," you instructed crisply, leaning back against the pillows to better regard him with a level stare. "All that over-emoting is going to cook off what few functioning brain cells you've got left at this rate, Bo."
Bokuto opened his mouth - no doubt to argue that exact point – but swiftly snapped it shut again at your quelling look. He visibly swallowed...then complied, sucking down several exaggerated gulps of air that expanded his powerful chest and slumped shoulders with each shallow inhalation. Already, you could see some of the manic desperation smoothing from the sharp angles of his face, tension ebbing in miniscule increments the longer you allowed the silence between you both to linger.
"Good, much better," you praised at last when his expression had notched back down to something closer to his normal temperature. "Now lay it all out for me plainly, why don't you? What exactly did you tell your poor, misguided teammates that has you desperately calling me at...three in the morning, completely hysterical?"
There was a beat of anticipatory pause where Bokuto seemed to wordlessly gather his bearings. Then, summoning his courage, he finally raised those golden irises to yours again with an earnestness that had your breath catching somewhere beneath your breastbone.
"Okay, look...I may have...possibly...kinda told them all that I've been secretly dating you for a couple years now?"
You stared at Bokuto in stunned silence, letting the weight of his admission fully sink in. He'd told his professional volleyball teammates...that you two were secretly dating? A sort of disbelieving laugh bubbled up from your chest.
"You're joking, right? Please tell me you're joking and just messing with me like usual."
But the sheepish expression on Bokuto's face said it all. He rubbed at the back of his neck, unable to meet your incredulous gaze through the camera.
"I really wish I was..." he mumbled, mouth turned down in an exaggerated pout that bordered on what you recognized as his "Emo Mode" warning signs. "The guys just wouldn't let up about my love life - or total lack thereof. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew, I was telling them about this totally real, super serious girlfriend I've been dating on the down-low for years now."
You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the first stirrings of a tension headache coming on. Classic Bokuto - always digging himself into unnecessary holes without a second thought.
"And let me guess," you said dryly. "This 'totally real, super serious girlfriend' you claimed to have just happened to be me?"
Bokuto's eyes went wide and pleading, somehow making himself look even more pitiful through the camera lens.
"Who else was I gonna say, babe?" His voice took on that unmistakable wheedling tone you knew all too well. "You're, like, the only lady I know, apart from my mom. We've been thicker than thieves since we were little kids! You really think I'd name some random chick as my ride-or-die when we both know you're the only woman on this entire planet I'd ever trust with that kinda responsibility?"
You tried to keep your expression impassive, but felt your resolve slipping at the naked earnestness shining in those gold-colored eyes. Bokuto always had been able to worm his way under your skin with surprising ease, toeing the line between charming vulnerability and outright manipulation like a goddamn artiste.
"Using our friendship as an excuse for your latest boneheaded move is pretty low, even for you," you chided, though the words lacked any real bite.
Bokuto barreled on before you could properly muster your scolding, somehow managing to crank the pathos up even higher.
"C'mon, c'mon, just hear me out here! There's no way I'da thrown some poor, unsuspecting lady's name under the bus for the guys to make fun of her." His eyes took on a sudden, almost manic gleam as another thought seemed to occur to him. "And you already know how they are - if I didn't give them someone real to gossip about, those vultures would've grilled me to the bone over making up some imaginary chick!"
You opened your mouth, ready to eviscerate him over that particularly glaring logical leap, but he didn't give you the chance. The words started spilling from Bokuto's lips like an uncorked geyser.
"Not to mention that if it wasn't you, they one-hundred percent would've demanded I get this supposed lady-friend of mine to official team events and stuff!" Golden eyes went comically wide, imploring you to see reason. "Can you even imagine how awkward and horrible that would've been, lying through my teeth about dating some poor random civilian and then trying to drag her into all our invasive professional shit?? You'd have murdered me for real if I did that to somebody, babe!"
He paused just long enough to suck down a deep gulp of breath, one calloused palm reaching up to rake back the artfully tousled strands of sweat-damp hair falling across his forehead. Somehow, the simple grooming motion only amplified the artfully-mussed air of boyish charisma and vulnerability Bokuto seemed to effortlessly exude like a damn cologne. You felt your mouth go suddenly dry at the sight as he continued in a softer, more entreating register.
"What was I supposed to do, babe? You know you're the only girl in my life I'd ever feel comfortable dragging into this craziness like that. The guys already give me no end of shit, but at least with you they'd know not to push too far with the comments or disrespect." His lips quirked in a small, wry smile that made your heart perform an honest-to-god pitter-pat against your ribcage. "I mean, you'd probably terrify them into proper behavior after one glance if we're being real here."
You snorted indelicately at that, mostly just to disguise the way your pulse had kicked up a notch as his familiar charm offensive slowly wormed its way beneath your defenses. He grinned back at you - all warm affection and playful mirth...right up until that smile faltered around the edges and his gaze abruptly dropped from yours.
"But if you're, like...actually bothered by me using your name like that, I totally understan-"
"Oh, can it with the sad puppy-dog eyes and simpering theatrics," you found yourself grumbling before Bokuto could fully launch into another one of his patented shame-spirals. He immediately brightened, head snapping back up to refocus on you through the screens with obvious delight.
"Wait, so does this mean...?"
You threw up your hands in a decidedly unladylike display of exasperation. "I'm saying I'll play along with your latest bout of delirious self-sabotage for now, sure. God only knows what fresh nightmare I'd be signing myself up for if I left you to flail and sink on this one alone."
Bokuto was already vibrating with unconstrained jubilation, though you tried to press on before he could properly erupt into loud celebrations.
"But hear me loud and clear on this part, Koutaro - the last time I cover for one of your fabrication frenzies, you got it? Because I sure as shit am not dealing with any awkward, 'oh golly, this is my pretend girlfriend I've been lying to everyone about' meetups with your teammates or anyone else. This ends with our weird little charade and that's it, understood?"
Even as you were voicing that hard ultimatum, you could already feel your sternness weakening in the face of Bokuto's uninhibited excitement. The man was literally glowing at you through the screen - all sunshine smile, glittering eyes radiating fondness and affection with every ounce of his focus zeroed in on drinking in your gruff rebukes like they were the sweetest poetry ever composed. Despite yourself, you felt that now-familiar fluttering sensation begin to bloom behind your breastbone anew at the rapt, unrestrained devotion he aimed in your direction so effortlessly. Like you were the only other person in his entire universe.
So when he nodded enthusiastically, looking for all the world like an eager golden retriever puppy receiving head scritches from its favorite human, you couldn't quite summon the full breadth of your usual scolding.
"You got it, you got it! I swear on every last possession and ounce of pride remaining to my name, this is just going to be a one-time, little white lie to get the guys off my back!" Bokuto was positively effervescent now, eyes sparkling with mischief and adrenaline at having already begun plotting multiple steps ahead as usual. "Though... now that you've agreed to go along for the ride, I guess there is one more little, tiny, easily accomplished favor I'll need to cash in from my self-proclaimed partner-in-chaotic-crimes..."
You eyed him warily even as your stomach performed a telltale swoop of premature trepidation. "I'm already regretting this, but go ahead - lay it on me. What fresh hell am I signing up for this time?"
The roguish wink and toothy grin Bokuto flashed you in response sucked the air directly from your lungs. For an eternally suspended breath, he simply let the moment stew and thicken before finally detonating the words you already knew would irrevocably spell your ruination.
"So...how'd you feel about joining me, Tsumu, Shoyo, and Omi-Omi for a fancy team dinner out next weekend—?"
"Absolutely not!" The words burst from your lips before you could even fully process the audacity of Bokuto's latest request. "There's no way in hell I'm putting myself through that kind of awkward third-degree just so you can perpetuate this little white lie further, Bo."
Bokuto's sunny expression immediately crumpled into one of theatric dismay, liquid gold irises going wide and pleading in that sickeningly effective way of his. You simply shook your head, mouth set in a flat line of adamant refusal as you held up a forestalling hand.
"Don't even try hitting me with those ridiculous puppy-dog peepers, you manipulative little gremlin. Your jackass teammates already know me as the surly old friend who's been putting up with your chaos since we were literal children together." You arched one pointed brow at him through the camera. "What exactly do you think their reactions are gonna be when I waltz in playing the part of your supposedly super-serious, ultra-intimate girlfriend persona you've been feeding them? Use those last few functional brain cells you've got left for once, dude."
Bokuto gnawed petulantly on his plump lower lip, handsome features scrunching into an exaggerated pout that did absolutely nothing to diminish his patently boyish appeal. If anything, the calculated vulnerability he projected with those mannerisms only seemed to amplify the sudden, hot flare of inappropriate interest smoldering low in your belly.
"They don't know the half of how...intensely close we really are, though," he wheedled, giving you pause with the obvious implication woven into those words.
You swallowed hard, mouth abruptly dry as cotton at the unexpected suggestiveness suffusing his tone. Your eyes raked helplessly over the screen, tracing the sharp vee of Bokuto's collarbones where they strained against the stretched collar of his shirt, the corded definition of his biceps cradling the phone like they were specifically designed to wrap around something far more...intimate.
"I m-mean," he stammered on with a sheepish chuckle, one hand darting up to scrub the wild thatch of silver and onyx locks into even further disarray. "Based on what I've been...embellishing for them, my so-called girlfriend and I are pretty uh...physical? Active? In that department, if y'know what I mean."
The hot flush you felt crawling up the back of your neck at his unsubtle insinuation could have seared flesh from bone. Still, you refused to allow Bokuto the satisfaction of giving in so easily, straightening your shoulders in a determined facade of composure.
"That's exactly why I'm not indulging this latest bout of lunacy any further, Koutaro. I know you - which means I know for a fact there's no line of depraved fabrication you wouldn't eagerly blur or outright barrel straight past when it comes to spinning wild fantasies these days." You aimed a narrow look at him through your lashes. "So spare me any further salacious teasers or implications about what sort of freaky role-play scenarios you might have regaled your poor teammates with already. I don't need those kinds of visuals seared onto my mind permanently."
A brief look of consternation flickered across Bokuto's handsome features at your rather forceful shutdown there. But he seemed to rally almost immediately, scooting forward until his face practically devoured the entire screen in an ill-advised attempt at looking more earnest and irresistible. The heavy-lidded effect it lent to those simmering, golden eyes only succeeded in stoking the inner maelstrom of conflict currently churning through your abdomen.
"C'mon, babe...Please?" The entreaty emerged with such unguarded sincerity and naked vulnerability that you felt your adamant refusals swiftly begin to buckle. "I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't absolutely dire, I swear! Those jackasses are going to eat me alive if I don't produce something to substantiate at least part of my tall tales soon. And after all these years, you know damn well you're the only person in this whole world I'd ever trust to have my back like this!"
When you simply held his intent stare in stubborn silence, Bokuto seemed to deflate slightly. His shoulders slumped, that full lower lip jutting out in an incredibly unbecoming - or was it terribly, inappropriately appealing? - pout.
"Please, kitten?" The pet name, coupled with the raw sincerity radiating from every pore of his being in that instant, punched straight through your defenses like they were wet cardboard. "For your old buddy Bo? Just this once, I swear..."
You swore your heart actually stopped beating for a solid ten seconds. That ridiculously saccharine, syrupy endearment falling from Bokuto's lips and somehow managing to ooze so much implicit affection and warmth...it was like he'd detonated some sort of primal hormone bomb deep within your limbic system. All rational thought processes slammed to a screeching halt as you tried and failed to parse how or why those two simple, nonsensical syllables could fill you with such molten, unfettered want in the span of a single heartbeat.
Bokuto must have easily misread the stunned silence gripping you in that moment, because his expression slowly collapsed towards utter dejection. As he hunched over and prepared to cut the video call short in obvious defeat, you finally found your voice again.
"Hold your horses there, Casanova," you bit out in a strained rasp, startling his forlorn gaze back up to the screen. "I didn't actually say no yet, did I now?"
His eyes went comically wide at your admission, lips parting in a silent 'oh' of surprise. You sighed heavily, already resigning yourself to the inevitable as you pressed onward.
"Give me one good reason why I should bother indulging this charade, and I'll..." Your throat clicked in a convulsive swallow. "I'll consider going along with whatever fresh hell you've cooked up this time. But I want the full, unvarnished truth - no more cutesy lies or dodging around shit. You got me?"
Bokuto nodded so vigorously for a moment you were concerned he might give himself whiplash. The hand not clutching his phone immediately lifted to rake back through his hair again, leaving the sweat-damp tendrils in a state of wild disarray. You had a sudden, visceral vision of your own fingers tunneling through those tantalizingly mussed silver strands, nails lightly scoring his scalp and sending delicious shudders ricocheting down his powerful frame.
"Okay, honesty, got it." He seemed to collect himself with a series of bracing breaths before locking you with that same earnest, searingly direct look from before. "The truth is, having you there - even just as some goofy pretend girlfriend prop - would make this so much more bearable for me. Those guys on my team...they don't pull any punches when it comes to the trash talk and digs, y'know?"
Something inside you twisted at the uncharacteristic thread of insecurity lacing Bokuto's low timbre just then. You could picture it all too vividly - the sorts of crass ribbing and vulgar teasing a pack of hypercompetitive athletes on the same professional team could devolve into. Especially directed towards the raw nerve that was Bokuto's conspicuous lack of any legitimate romantic experiences. It was the sort of environment that could swiftly become brutally emasculating and toxic for a sensitive soul like his.
"But with you there?" Bokuto's gorgeous eyes crinkled at the corners as a secret, unguarded smile tugged at one side of his sinful mouth. "They'd never dream of trying to back me into a corner or single me out for too much ridicule, babe. Not with the infamous 'queen of cutting a bitch' herself standing guard, no sir."
You narrowed your eyes, ignoring the sudden pang of flattery blossoming unexpectedly in your chest at the open admiration in his tone.
"So that's it? You just want me there as some sort of human shield to keep your idiot teammates from teasing you too hard about your deeply lacking dating resume?"
Bokuto chuckled, biting his lush lower lip in a way that briefly derailed your train of thought in the most unacceptable of fashions. "Well it sure as hell wouldn't hurt matters, that's for damn certain. But nah, that's not the real hook I had in mind to try reeling you in on this one with."
You were already shaking your head in resignation before he even continued. "Figures you'd have some sort of angle all primed from the start, you lovable gremlin. Fine, hit me with it - what exactly is this 'hook' you've been saving to sweet talk me into compliance, hmm?"
The achingly roguish grin and sly, heavy-lidded look of self-satisfaction that split Bokuto's features at that instant made your mouth go abruptly dry all over again. He leaned back slightly, posture going deceptively relaxed and loose as he let the sudden tension thicken to a stifling degree.
"Simple," he purred finally, voice dropping a whole sinful octave that had you squirming against your will. "I agree to take you on an all-expenses paid weekend getaway to that super-exclusive hot springs retreat you've been drooling over for literal years. Just me and you indulging in all the revitalizing treatments, massages, private mineral baths overlooking the scenic mountaintops...the whole nine yards, no questions asked."
You gaped at him mutely, all the air forcibly expelled from your lungs in the wake of that bombshell. It was quite literally your single most deep-seated, unrealized pleasure fantasy - to spend an entire decadent weekend soaking in steaming hot pools and pampering yourself senseless. The ultimate indulgence in pure self-care and indulgence that always felt too extravagant to justify splurging on solo.
But with Bokuto's open-ended offer of companionship and corporation on the table?
"I fucking knew you'd been wanting to take a trip to that ritzy place ever since they opened," Bokuto crowed triumphantly, already sensing victory within his grasp through your pole-axed silence. "So, whaddya say babe? Fancy joining me for a little...getaway after our charade of a date night? Just a lowkey spa weekend between old friends, no frills or strings attached!"
You swallowed hard, mouth still working furiously to rehydrate itself as you leveled him with a pointed glare. "You absolute bastard, using my own weaknesses against me like that," you growled without any real venom, already knowing your own resistance was crumbling like a sand castle before an oncoming tide. "Aren't you ashamed, resorting to such blatant and shamelessly manipulative bribery to get your way?"
Bokuto feigned innocence, widening his already owlish gaze and splaying one hand over his chest in a show of mock contrition that only served to stretch the soft fabric of his shirt obscenely tight across the sculpted contours of his pecs.
"Why, I haven't the faintest idea what you could be implying, kitten," he returned in that same sinfully lowered octave. "All I'm offering here is the pleasure of my charming company as we indulge in a little self-care and relaxation between two buddies."
You narrowed your eyes in a vain attempt at deflecting just how thoroughly your restraint was already crumbling into so much meager rubble. Bokuto simply watched you steadily, all quiet confidence and devastating charisma. The silence seemed to thicken perceptibly with each loaded second allowed to tick by, growing thicker and heavier until it practically condensed into something palpable blanketing the line between you.
"...fine. You utterly irredeemable gremlin," you growled at last, feigning outrage even as your pulse kicked up a notch. "I'll play along with this ludicrous little 'couples night' charade of yours. But only because the thought of finally indulging in that weekend away sounds far too enticing to pass up, you hear?"
Bokuto's expression positively radiated incandescent triumph, all sunny smiles and pleased self-satisfaction at having properly worked you around to his way of thinking. You aimed one final scathing glare at the screen, hating how even that token display of irritation only seemed to encourage the roguish curl quirking his full lips.
"You mark my words though, Bokuto Koutaro - I fully expect you to square things appropriately after I've endured whatever humiliating circus act you're undoubtedly orchestrating, understood?"
You were unable to resist adding a deeply sardonic note of emphasis to the final word, letting your gaze trail unrepentantly over his sculpted torso in a way you absolutely knew couldn't be mistaken for anything but overt admiration. To his credit, Bokuto didn't balk or flinch from the insinuation, simply lifting one shoulder in an artfully nonchalant half-shrug as he pitched his voice low once more.
"Don't you worry your gorgeous head over making me pay up with interest afterwards, gorgeous. As far as I'm concerned, having you on my arm for the night is reward enough in itself." He winked to punctuate that bold declaration, tongue darting out to subtly wet his lips in what had to be the most lascivious move in his repertoire.
You coughed harshly in an ill-concealed attempt at swallowing past the renewed surge of heated interest sluicing through your core just then. "Yeah, well at least I know what kinds of illicit activities will really hold your interest when it comes time to start squaring things." You eyed him with deliberate meaning until Bokuto started squirming under the weight of your gaze. "Should make for a decadently relaxing weekend afterwards for the both of us...don't you agree?"
His unrepentant bark of laughter assured you the double meaning was well and truly received, much to your immense shameless satisfaction.
"Alright, alright - you've played your trump card and mercilessly fleeced me, you ruthless little sexpot. We'll call it an evening for now, yeah?" The dimpled wink Bokuto favored you with made your toes curl pleasantly against the sheets. "I'll swing by to pick you up around 8 tomorrow night, since it's closer to your side of town. Sound good?"
"Works for me," you replied, aiming for a breezy nonchalance despite the warm buttery feeling currently turning your internal organs into the consistency of freshly-churned batter. "I'll start mentally preparing myself to bask in the full hot mess of awkward embarrassment you're no doubt going to be eagerly courting at this fated dinner party now."
Bokuto chuckled richly, the sound going straight to your already overheated hindbrain like a pavlovian trigger.
"And I'll start plotting out all the ways I can thoroughly woo you into forgetting whatever lingering reservations or inhibitions you've still got tucked away beneath those defenses of yours!" His signature double-pistols and a wink chaser were enough to elicit an indelicate snort of amusement despite yourself. "Trust me babe - after tomorrow night, you're gonna be falling head over heels for this old charmer in no time!"
It was an idle boast, you knew. Just the latest in a long string of harmless, mostly affectionate innuendo Bokuto loved to sprinkle between your long-running bouts of playful banter. But without consciously willing it, the barb still struck something soft and vulnerable in your core - setting off a series of shockwaves that left you feeling profoundly off-balance.
Fortunately, Bokuto followed up that loaded declaration with a jaw-cracking yawn and exaggerated stretch without seeming to notice your brief discomfiture. "Oof, look at me just flapping my gums away and keeping the both of us up past our bedtimes. Don't worry, I'll cut the theatrics for now and let you get some shut-eye, gorgeous."
You bit the inside of your cheek, simultaneously relieved and somehow a touch disappointed at him bowing out for the evening so abruptly. Some deep, twisted part of you had obviously desired to keep poking at that undefinable new tension building in the ether between you. To prod and see how far you could stretch those suddenly blurring lines before something inside you inevitably split apart.
"Have a good night, Bo," you finally settled on with a slow exhalation, offering him what you hoped came across as an easy smile. "Don't go suffering any 'crisis of conscience' cold feet between now and your little date night, you hear? I agreed to tag along with minimal fuss, so you'd better deliver on those promises afterwards too."
Bokuto's resounding laugh and million-watt smile were a soothing balm in the wake of your parting teasing remark. "Minimal fuss, she says - did you hear the absolute earful of protestation and stubborn refusals before I broke you down, you gorgeous hardass?"
You aimed an imperious look at him, which only seemed to egg him on into further impish delighting based on the way his eyes danced in fond reminiscence.
"But no worries, no worries my lovely! Your devoted Bokuto will definitely come through with flying colors tomorrow, guaranteed!" He leaned in close to the screen, the full-force effect of that smoldering golden stare almost palpable even from such a distance. "Sweet dreams, kitten. I'll be seeing you in the flesh again soon, and don't you worry - I'll definitely be making good on those promises of mine to thoroughly sweep you off your feet and then some."
He'd barely finished the sentence before you were ending the call with an impatient huff and a roll of your eyes. Your heart was pounding a furious tattoo against the cage of your ribs, blood singing with adrenaline and anticipation as you stared blindly up at the ceiling and tried to parse exactly what the hell you'd gotten yourself into this time.
"Fuck me," you finally managed to choke out, burying your face in your hands and releasing a muffled scream of exasperation and sheer disbelief.
It was bad enough, agreeing to go along with his wild schemes. But having the audacity to imply you would somehow emerge from this little escapade...changed? That was where the line had finally been drawn in the sand.
Still, a small, traitorous corner of your mind couldn't help but entertain the notion, wondering just what sorts of shenanigans a little dose of fresh perspective and genuine, open vulnerability might bring out in your long-time friendship with the most endearingly frustrating person in your life.
You rolled onto your side with a huff, willing the intrusive thoughts to quiet down so you could try and get a decent night's rest for the evening. Still, something small and insidious lingered, sending a shiver racing down the length of your spine and a soft sigh gusting from your lips as you closed your eyes and drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Tomorrow was bound to be a very interesting night.
The jarring crash of splintering wood and shattering glass sent you bolt upright in bed, heart pounding a staccato rhythm against your ribcage. Disoriented eyes swept the shadowed confines of your bedroom, struggling to make sense of the sudden cacophony echoing down the hall.
A dull thud and muffled cursing offered the first clues, quickly followed by the unmistakable stomping gait of oversized feet rapidly approaching. You barely had time to fully register the situation before your door exploded inward with enough force to rip it clear off its hinges.
"Up and at 'em, sleeping beauty!" Bokuto bellowed from the doorway, chest heaving beneath his snug t-shirt like he'd just run a marathon. Predictably, he didn't even pause to take in your deer-in-headlights expression before barreling straight for the bed in a flurry of limbs.
The sheer velocity of his leap carried Bokuto sailing completely over the mattress in an impressive foot-to-foot broad jump. You watched with horrified fascination as he seemed to hang suspended above you for one ludicrous, protracted moment - hair wild, eyes sparkling with unconstrained glee. Then his considerable mass reconnected with the center of your bed in an earthshaking crash, springs and frame groaning in abject protest.
The resulting shockwave instantly transformed your bedding into a veritable tsunami of linen chop. One heartbeat you were cocooned in the drowsy warmth of your comforter, blinking up at Bokuto's maniacal grin in bewildered silence. The next, you were freefalling gracelessly off the far side of the mattress as an entire continent's worth of bedding detonated across the room in a feathery maelstrom.
"Mmmffrrbphh?" Your muffled, dazed noise of confusion wafted up from the crumpled tangle of sheets you'd somehow become hopelessly ensared within. Bokuto simply cackled gleefully at the sight, utterly unbothered by the carnage he'd just wrought on your formerly peaceful sleeping sanctuary.
"C'mon, c'mon - time to rise and shine, princess!" he crowed in that boisterous drill-sergeant voice of his. "We've got a loooong day of pampering and preparing ahead of us before tonight's main event, you know!"
You finally managed to wrestle the top sheet away from where it had cinched around your head like a thick woolen gag, hair thoroughly mussed and cheeks ruddy from your impromptu bout of exertion so early in the morning.
"What in the fresh hell are you-" you broke off with a jaw-cracking yawn, scrubbing knuckles against your aching eyelids as you slowly regained your bearings. "Wait...tonight's main event?"
Bokuto snorted a laugh, folding those ridiculously long legs into a pretzel on your mangled mattress without a care in the world. "Don't tell me your brain's already forgotten all about the momentous commitment I secured from you just last night? This is zero hour for Operation Woo the...uh...wait, what was that ridiculous name I decided on again?"
You pinched the bridge of your nose to stave off the sudden migraine blooming between your temples. "Bokuto, I swear to every deity in existence - if you broke into my house at the asscrack of dawn just to enact another one of your depraved little rom-com scenarios, I'm going to strangle you with my bare hands before we even leave this bedroom."
At your venomous mumbling, Bokuto's expression morphed into an exaggerated look of wounded innocence that might have been comical...if he wasn't already beginning to paw through the giant duffel bag lying at his feet. You watched through slitted eyes as garment bags, jewelry boxes, and all manners of beauty products began spilling out in an unceremonious pile onto your exposed lap.
"What...is all this?" you grumbled, snatching up a particularly suspicious-looking lace and satin bundle with mild trepidation.
"This, my dear, is our ticket to nailing down a completely irrefutable and mouth-wateringly believable performance tonight!" Bokuto punctuated the statement with deep, dramatic flair, setting aside a glistening Louboutin heel with enviable reverence. "After our little pre-game chit chat last night, it became clear to me that simply relying on your natural goddess-like looks wouldn't be enough to properly sell us as a hot-and-heavy lovebird couple to the team."
You eyed him dubiously even as another negligee tumbled haphazardly into your lap, rich silks pooling in glossy rivulets like captured moonbeams. "Yeahhh, because dressing me up like an extra from an extremely upscale escort service promotional shoot is clearly the most discreet strategy..."
Bokuto aimed a pointed look your way, eyebrow quirking ever so slightly. "Would you just trust me for like, five whole minutes here, babe? If I'm gonna parade my ultra-sexy girlfriend around tonight, I need to ensure she's dressed to truly bring the house down, you know?"
Despite yourself, you felt a reluctant warmth beginning to bloom in your chest at the genuine eagerness radiating off him in waves. It was so endearingly, quintessentially Bokuto - leaping headlong into even the most ridiculous of situations with absolutely zero doubts or hesitation once he'd committed himself. Just the same earnest enthusiasm and unrestrained passion that had first endeared him to you as semi-feral children, and which continued fueling your bond as friends to this day.
Still, you refused to make things easy on your chaotic best friend. Heaving an overly dramatic sigh, you allowed all the lingerie to spill from your lap in a glossy avalanche before pinning him with a pointed look.
"Fine, you tireless menace," you groused with a weary shake of your head. "I suppose I have no choice but to entrust the inevitable humiliation of my self-respect to your clearly questionable tastes tonight. Just don't expect me to go silently if we get mistaken for high-end prostitutes at this stupid dinner and I snap someone's arm off in my fury..."
The blinding grin Bokuto flashed you was radiant enough to scald retinas at twenty paces. "Oh man, this night is gonna be better than I ever dreamed! Just you wait, babe - I'm gonna have all those disbelieving losers tripping over their own dicks trying to figure out how someone like me could possibly score someone as gorgeous as you." His gaze abruptly turned heated and playful, devouring you in a way that sent tingles rippling across your skin in warning. "And that's before we even break out the sexy evening wear I picked up for the real pièce de reconnaissance or whatever!"
You fought not to squirm under the molten appraisal sizzling through his eyes. How was it that Bokuto could so effortlessly elicit that restless, fluttering sensation in the pit of your stomach with nothing more than a few words and smoldering looks these days? You'd always prided yourself on not being the kind of foolish, simpering girl who got hot and bothered by a pretty face and charming tongue alone.
With an indelicate snort, you reached across the scattered refuse to thwack him sharply in the shoulder, startling a laugh from the raucous bird himself.
"Eyes off the goods there, Bo...at least until tonight's so-called 'main event' gets underway." Despite your best efforts at maintaining an appropriately chiding frown, your lips twitched dangerously in a suppressed grin. "Because if you think I'm gonna let you get away with upstaging the entire production after all this unforgivable racket you've brought to my poor morning routine..."
"Rest assured, the unassailable Queen of Ice shall be granted her day upon the throne for all to kneel and grovel before!" Bokuto declared with a flourish, puffing out his broad chest in silly pomp as he pressed one hand over the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "Why, I swear upon mine own honor as a devoted - if tragically misunderstood - leading man that tonight shall be a night of pure enchantment to remember! One that we shall..." He paused, gaze growing suddenly soft and honeyed around the edges as it swept across your features, "...one that we shall remember for all our days, my love."
You swallowed convulsively at the intensity behind those words, suddenly robbed of any pithy retort or defenses against the riptide of emotion swelling up between you in that crystalline moment. Everything seemed to recede into a kind of molten, surreal detachment as Bokuto's sculpted features impossibly blurred and sharpened into searing clarity all at once.
Then you were both inhaling sharply, the charged bubble fragmenting apart as Bokuto launched a throw pillow directly into your nose with a muffled 'whoomph'.
"But first thing's first - a morning round of Rocky Road for the soon-to-be leading lady tonight!" he crowed with deafening enthusiasm. "No way my girl's going to war looking like a molted barn owl straight off the rack, am I right?"
And just like that, the spell of palpable tension weighting the atmosphere between you dissipated into the same lighthearted ribbing and raucous antics that had defined your friendship for so long now. You huffed out an exasperated laugh at Bokuto's antics, already bunching up the skirts of your nightdress with every intention of flinging it back in his smug face.
Tonight's theatrics could wait a little longer, you supposed. For now, there was still time for one final lighthearted sparring match before the curtain rose on whatever fresh madness your human hurricane had planned.
"Come onnnn, just put it on for a quick second!" Bokuto whined from his sprawled position across your bed. "I wanna see how the full ensemble looks all put together!"
You shot him an exasperated look over your shoulder as you carefully lined your eyes in front of the vanity mirror. "For the hundredth time, Bo - no. I'm not going full glam until right before we have to actually leave."
He groaned loudly, throwing his arm over his eyes in a dramatic display. "But babe, that's like two whole hours from now! How am I supposed to bask in the vision of loveliness that is my beautiful date if you insist on keeping yourself all covered up?"
"By exercising a little thing called patience?" you fired back dryly. "Maybe lookup some techniques for it between obsessively pestering me every five minutes."
"Ugh, you're so mean to me," Bokuto pouted, peeking at you from beneath the crook of his elbow. "Withholding your breathtaking beauty behind those drab sweats...it's like torturing a man stuck in the desert without any water!"
You snorted at the melodrama, carefully applying another layer of mascara. "Keep laying it on that thick and I may have to take those designer dresses back for a refund. I don't need you staining them with all your pathetic drooling later."
"You couldn't get a refund if you tried," he shot back smugly. "I made sure to have them all permanently altered and tailored to your measurements for the full wow-factor."
You paused, makeup brush hovering as you turned to pin him with an incredulous look. "You're joking."
Bokuto simply grinned, all bravado and mischievous charm. "Does this incredibly handsome face look like it's joking right now?"
Groaning, you shook your head and went back to your makeup, muttering under your breath. "I swear, between the fancy clothes and all the custom tailoring, you must've dropped like ten grand on this whole act alone."
"Well, what can I say?" His tone took on that silky, smug quality that always made you want to smack him. "When I go all out for my gorgeous girl, I don't do anything half-assed."
You rolled your eyes so hard it was almost painful. "I'm not your girl, Bokuto. This is all an elaborate act, remember?"
His responding pout was audible. "Why do you have to go and harsh my vibe like that, babe? Can't you just let a guy get into character for one night of delicious, scintillating roleplay with his dream partner?"
"By deluding yourself into somehow making this real?" you countered, finally feeling satisfied enough with your makeup to start getting dressed. "I think the only delusion happening here is in that perpetually thirsty mind of yours, pal."
"Mmm, you know just what to say to get a fella all riled up," Bokuto rumbled, the bed creaking as he shifted around behind you. "Promise me one thing - you gotta let me see the full shebang at least thirty minutes before we have to be out that door. Give a guy a little time to pick his jaw up off the floor and reassemble his composure..."
You bit your lip against a grin as you shimmied out of your sweatpants, very aware of the weight of his eyes tracking your movements now. "We'll see how convincing you are at playing the part later. For now, just sit tight and try to control yourself until I put the whole look together, okay?"
His wounded groan made you chuckle softly to yourself. Slipping into your robe, you turned to catch Bokuto propped up on one elbow, eyes already gleaming with familiar exaggerated pleading.
"You're lucky I already vowed to be on my best behavior tonight," he muttered, gaze roaming frankly over your silk-wrapped frame. "Otherwise I might've had to take drastic measures to see that beautiful body out in the open well before our scheduled curtain call..."
You threw a decorative pillow at his face without hesitation, fighting a losing battle against your smile. "Down boy! Save all that simmering tension for when the cameras are rolling - I'm pretty sure your idiot teammates will smell even a whiff of real steam and instantly know I'm not your actual love interest."
"Oh ye of little faith," Bokuto tsked with a wink. "By the time I work my irresistible magic on you tonight, those clueless dingbats won't know whether I'm just an incredibly committed method actor or if they've actually glimpsed the face of true love incarnate. You'll see..."
The sheer overconfidence in his tone was enough to set you laughing all over again as you grabbed your dress ensemble and headed for the bathroom to change. "Keep telling yourself that, Casanova. I'm still holding you personally responsible when this all inevitably blows up in our faces!"
His responding whoop of protest was drowned out by the click of the door shutting between you. Surrounded by the quiet of your bathroom, you allowed yourself a small moment just to take a few centering breaths, garment bags pooling at your feet.
Despite all the teasing back-and-forth... despite your very rational, very loud internal voice screaming about how insane this entire farce was...you couldn't quite ignore the steadily growing bubble of warmth and giddy excitement slowly inflating in your chest.
Bokuto's particular brand of irreverent, untempered enthusiasm had always been nothing short of infectious to you. And after the sheer excess of thought and funds he'd poured into making tonight as lavish and extravagant as possible for your benefit?
Well, you supposed you could find it in yourself to get a little overinvested in selling the real-life romantic fantasy too. At least for one night of shameless indulgence between you and your best friend.
With that firmly in mind, you finally allowed the dress bags to slip open and spill their contents across your waiting arms.
"You've got to be kidding me..." The hushed utterance barely contained the appropriate degree of reverent awe as Bokuto took you in from across the room. "I mean, I knew you were gonna be a knockout when I saw the full look in person. But holy smokes, babe...you're on an entirely different level from anyone else on this whole damn planet!"
You felt your cheeks heat despite yourself at the sincere appreciation brimming in his voice. Studiously avoiding his molten gaze, you twisted to examine your reflection more critically in the floor-length mirror.
The oxblood evening gown skimmed over your curves in an elegant swath of liquid silk that shimmered and flowed like a living entity with each minute shift. The neckline plunged just enough to tease without being outright salacious while the daring thigh-high slit allowed tantalizing glimpses of skin to wink at admirers as you moved. Overall, the deep crimson shade provided an aesthetically striking contrast against your complexion, practically smoldering in an effortless display of confidence and refined beauty.
"It is a pretty swoon-worthy look, I'll give you that much," you allowed with a small smile as you tried to slip into the towering rhinestone-studded heels to complete the overall effect.
You could feel the weight of Bokuto's gaze like a physical brand everywhere it raked across your body. An indecent part of you thrilled at the rapt, appreciative way he seemed to drink in every exposed inch of skin - unconsciously leaning forward like a man entranced.
"Forget swoon-worthy," he husked after a protracted beat, voice dropping an entire octave deeper in a way that zipped electric tingles down your spine. "That look is straight up...no, wait. This requires more creative adjectives than my poor tongue can properly supply justice to in the moment."
With that vague declaration, Bokuto simply launched himself off the bed and pad-thumped his way over to you in a few loping strides. You opened your mouth to offer some sardonic rebuttal, only to choke on your words entirely as he effortlessly sank to one knee at your feet, broad shoulders level with your waistline.
Smoldering galaxies of molten amber stared up at you from beneath a messy fringe of slate and silver, flickering with a tantalizing heat that made your mouth go abruptly dry.
"What...are you doing?" The question rasped out weakly, all the smooth bravado sapped from your tone.
Bokuto didn't answer verbally - he simply reached out and ever-so-gently clasped your ankle, thumb settling into the hollow just below with exquisite tenderness as his gaze continued searing a path up the length of your body. By the time your eyes reconnected, there was an electric charge crackling in the humid air between you, whipping every molecule of oxygen into a volatile brew.
"Let me, please," he finally breathed, the entreaty so hushed and heavy it landed squarely in your core like a physical blow. "Just...just let me have this one moment to drink you in before I have to share this unreal vision with the rest of the world, okay?"
Your tongue felt thick and clumsy against your palate when you tried to formulate a response. Heat blossomed across the bridge of your nose and high planes of your cheekbones as those long, deft fingers performed exquisite tortures along the sensitive regions of your ankles and calves. Bokuto's smoldering stare remained trained on yours all the while, glittering through his lashes like shards of black ice and molten gold swirled together in a cosmic tempest...
"Uh...y-yeah. Yes, okay..." You finally tore your gaze away with concentrated effort, fighting the sudden tightness coiling in your belly at the naked adoration splashed across your best friend's features. "Just...don't go getting too many wild ideas about taking this role-playing thing past its acceptable limits."
Bokuto's responding chuckle was a low, throaty rumble that seemed vibrate against the bare skin of your legs in a most precarious way. "Rest assured, my love...what's happening between us in this moment is no mere act or play for show."
Your head whipped around so fast your upswept hair bounced and thrashed with the force. Bokuto's angular features had been wiped carefully blank into an expressionless mask, though his eyes still simmered with a naked heat that bordered on reverence.
Before you could recover enough to properly call him on the seemingly innocent comment loaded with ambiguity, he drew in a long, shuddering inhale through his nose. Squeezed your calf just firm enough to betray the intensity of the moment weighing upon him.
Then, seeming to shake off the unsettling weight of his own mood, he aimed that signature boyish grin up at you and bounced agilely back to his feet with new lightness.
"But enough seriousness for the time being, am I right?" His eyes crinkled at the corners with sincere mirth. "Tonight's meant to be a celebration for us both - one that I intend to kick off with an absolute bang once we hit the streets and show off this impossible union for all the world to behold!"
Despite the lingering maelstrom of emotions still settling over you like an intangible haze, you couldn't quite stifle the breathless giggle that bubbled up in response to his renewed exuberance. Unable to resist one final joshing remark.
"So what you're saying is, this is officially the moment where my descent into unwitting arm candy status goes completely off the rails?" you teased lightly. "I should savor these last shreds of dignity before you strip them away entirely with your usual hurricane of chaos, right?"
Bokuto's responding cackle of delight was deep and infectious, swiftly dragging you fully free of the heated thrall you'd both temporarily spun into just moments ago. He swept a low, gallant bow worthy of Shakespearean theater, extending one arm in an exaggerated beckoning flourish towards the door.
"My dear lady, would that I could promise your pride and reserve will remain fully intact throughout our festivities!" He deepened his voice into a ridiculously affected baritone dripping with mock gravitas. "But I fear yours truly must admit to harboring...ulterior motives for tonight's escapades that may strip you bare of all remaining propriety and discretion by the final curtain!"
You were already giggling helplessly at his theatrics, one hand pressed over your abdomen as peals of laughter tumbled freely forth. Bokuto took the opportunity to stride forward and link your free arm through the crook of his elbow, guiding you with exaggerated courtliness towards the door and whatever jubilant mayhem beyond awaited your arrival.
"C'mon, milady," he murmured against your temple, the graveled tenor of his voice sending shivers coursing across your skin. "Let's blow the roof off this joint, just the two of us taking the world by storm. What d'ya say?"
Your answering grin, wide and radiant with all the boundless eagerness of pure, unfettered joy, was all the response either of you needed. Tonight was yours for the taking, for better or worse.
And as your fingertips burrowed into the solid expanse of muscle cording Bokuto's bicep more snugly, winding him just a smidge tighter against your side...you found yourself struck by the sudden, heady certainty that neither of you had any intention of doing this night by halves.
The sleek car idled curbside, tinted privacy windows shielding you from the curious glances of passersby as you leaned towards the mirror. Dabbing one final layer of glossy crimson across your lips, you pursed them experimentally before nodding in satisfaction.
"Okay, I think that's as good as it's gonna get," you announced, snapping your compact closed with a definitive click. "Unless you want me adding another coat of…"
Your teasing words trailed off as you finally glanced over at Bokuto...only to find him openly staring at you with an expression of such open, naked wonderment that your breath caught in your throat.
He was leaned back into the plush leather seat, one forearm looped casually across the empty space as he watched you with rapt, childlike adoration crinkling the corners of those expressive eyes. There was no heat or suggestion in his features, just an almost painfully earnest awe that reminded you so viscerally of the way he used to idolize you as snotty, scrappy children playing in the park across from your building.
For one suspended heartbeat, Bokuto looked less like the wildly successful pro athlete about to put on a staged performance for his team...and more like that wiry, silver-haired whirlwind of endless enthusiasm and boundless adoration that he had been all those years ago.
"Hello? Earth to Kou?" you prodded after clearing your throat roughly. "You still with me over there or did I accidentally hypnotize you into some sort of trance with my goddess-like glow?"
Bokuto blinked rapidly, the moment shattering apart like delicate spun-glass at the wry prompting of your voice. He shook his head sharply, silken strands of silver and black dancing across his brow as his expression cycled through a dizzying range of micro-emotions before settling on sheepish chagrin.
"Sorry, sorry!" One calloused palm rasped across the chiseled cut of his jawline, thumb smoothing over the plush swell of his lips. The small, compulsive adjustment only served to draw your gaze helplessly down to drink in the soft give of that lush mouth yet again before snapping your attention back up. "I didn't mean to get all weird and spacey on you like that. You just..."
He paused, adam's apple bobbing convulsively as he visibly struggled to collect his thoughts into some semblance of coherency. You arched one brow expectantly, tamping down on the sudden fluttering unease blossoming beneath your breastbone.
"I just what, Koutaro?" Aiming for casual nonchalance was more of a struggle than anticipated with the heated weight of his smoldering appraisal prickling along your sensitized skin once more.
"You just...look really, really pretty tonight." Bokuto bit down on that full lower lip briefly, as if physically shackling the rest of whatever thought wanted to tumble forth next. His lashes dipped for a single slow blink before those liquid mercury eyes refocused on yours with renewed intensity. "Like, inhumanly gorgeous to the point that I genuinely worried for a split second about bursting into flames levels of pretty."
Your mouth curved into an amused moue despite your best efforts at preserving neutrality. Leave it to Bokuto to somehow ricochet between flustered sincerity and casual wisecracking with such effortless smoothness.
"Thanks, I think?" You aimed for a playful roll of your eyes, though the heat blooming across the bridge of your nose hinted at the lingering effects of his unvarnished compliment. "Glad to know my efforts at achieving 'ethereal siren' levels of beauty paid off enough to stun even a chaos prodigy like you into temporary speechlessness."
Bokuto huffed out a quiet chuckle, shoulders relaxing incrementally back into that sinuous sprawl against the seat. "It's not an act or exaggerated flattery, babe. You really do take my breath away looking like...well, like anything."
Another long, weighted pause as his eyes roved over the elegant lines of your body hungrily - a physical caress you felt all the way down to your core.
"Makes it a lot easier to sell the whole 'deliriously smitten leading man' act I've gotta put on tonight, that's for damn sure."
You hummed noncommittally, fingers toying with the ornate pendant nestled between your breasts as a welcome distraction from the steadily spiraling tension in the air between you both. Eventually you found enough equilibrium to shake off the tangible charge and pivot towards a more practical line of questioning.
"Speaking of selling this act..." You cast a sidelong glance at Bokuto, noting the way his posture imperceptibly tightened like a coiled strand of tensile steel cable. "We should probably get our story straight on a few key details before waltzing into the lion's den, don't you think?"
Bokuto regarded you steadily for a heartbeat before seeming to cotton to your pragmatic line of thought. He rapped the knuckle of his index finger lightly against his temple twice, inclining his head in a silent request for you to continue unpacking those thoughts.
"Well obviously your boneheaded teammates aren't going to resist the urge to start grilling us over the standard dating trivia the moment we make our entrance." You ticked off on your fingers as you continued. "Things like how we met up initially after losing touch for so long. Who finally caved and shot their shot to kickstart the romance between us. How long we've been keeping our relationship under wraps and why. That kind of gritty, embarrassingly intimate stuff that idiotic meatheads always zero right in on when they think they've sniffed out a chance for invasive gossip, y'know?"
You paused to regard Bokuto expectantly, only to find his expression had rapidly collapsed from genuine interest into a veritable deer-in-headlights mask of panic. His eyes had blown wide enough to dominate the entirety of his features, knuckles whitening around the plush grip of the door handle beside him.
"Oh fuuuuuuuuuuck..." The grated moan dragged itself past his suddenly bloodless lips like the pained death rattle of a newly birthed black hole swallowing him whole. "I didn't...oh my god, I'm such a colossal idiot! How did I not even stop to think about basic background and story logistics like that before charging in ass-first?"
Well, that certainly wasn't the response you had anticipated from your customarily unflappable partner in chaos. You stared at Bokuto in mounting disbelief as he visibly descended into a whirlwind shame spiral before your very eyes.
"Shit, no - this whole thing is going to unravel into a total trainwreck before we even make it through the door now!" His voice steadily escalated towards hysterical yodeling, free hand tugging mercilessly at platinum streaked strands. "Those vultures are going to sniff out the first hint of discrepancy in our cover story and proceed to rip me a massively gaping asshole sideways for the next decade at minimum! Oh god, why didn't I have you help me hammer out some plausible backstory details ahead of time? Why am I such an inconsistent, scatterbrained himbo with the planning skills of a lobotomized lemur at all times?!"
At that, you could no longer bite back the peals of laughter bubbling up from your chest. Bokuto froze mid-tirade to goggle at you, clearly shellshocked by the mirth rippling across his companion. Wiping away the first few tears pearling at the corners of your eyes, you finally managed to draw a full breath and calm yourself enough to speak clearly once more.
"Honestly, I don't know why I expected anything less from you in a crisis situation like this," you chuckled with a bemused shake of your head. "You'd have ended up spontaneously combusting from all the convoluted storytelling lies you tried weaving by yourself guaranteed."
Bokuto opened his mouth, no doubt to defend his honor, when you smoothly reached out and grasped him by both whiskered cheeks. His plush lips puckered adorably in your squishing hold, eyes going owlishly perplexed as the scathing commentary seemed to momentarily die on his tongue.
"You daft, ridiculous man-owl," you crooned fondly, drinking in the boyish features you knew better than your own reflection at this point. "Why else did you think I bothered bringing up hammering out backstory logistics in the first place, hm? Did you really think I'd allow us to blunder into this big scene without having some plausible fallback cover story all teed up on my end?"
Realization dawned in Bokuto's widening gaze even as you allowed your grip on his cheeks to relax fractionally, smoothing those plumped swell of his lips out beneath your touch.
"That's right, my adorably fretful barnowl," you practically purred, unable to resist skimming the calloused pad of your thumb across that lush mouth in a tantalizing graze. "Your ever vigilant partner in crime has us fully covered here too. Just leave the talking to me this time around, yeah?"
You punctuated the reassurance with a conspiratorial wink that had Bokuto's posture relaxing back into the decadent sprawl he seemed to favor instinctively. There was an evenness and unhurried certainty creeping back into his bearing as well - the sort of quietly determined and centered confidence that had underscored even the wildest, most over-the-top productions you two had dreamed up back in your teen heydays.
"As per usual then?" he husked finally, tongue darting out to wet those lips you'd just caressed in an unconsciously sensual motion that caused every fiber of your being to suddenly throb with heated awareness. His features had cycled back through that delicious transformation from hangdog uncertainty to assured incandescence before your very eyes - the alpha-owl persona you knew and adored so unreservedly slotting smoothly back into the driver's seat once more. "You hold the reins while I'm left to follow your indomitable lead into whatever madness awaits, gorgeous? Just the pair of eternal partners kicking up fresh chaos in harmony as we've done since we were kids?"
You echoed his slow, delicious grin with one of your own - equally indulgent yet underscored by that same current of feral, unignorable heat simmering between you. This was familiar territory, comforting in its inherent unpredictability...yet charged with undeniable electricity neither of you had ever dared name or fully give voice to up until now.
"Something like that," you husked back, voice already taking on a husky, heady alto you barely recognized as belonging to your own throat. "So what do you say, oh esteemed leading man?"
You didn't wait for his breathless nod of acquiescence before surging forward in that same, emboldened motion. The hand already cupping the stubbled definition of Bokuto's jaw slid upwards to frame his enviably sharp cheekbones, thumb grazing the razor-cut hollow just beneath with smoldering intent. Your lips hovered a sliver's breadth from searing themselves against the corner of his own in a filthy brand - close enough to share each scorching exhalation in one heated tangle.
"Shall we go remind that ingrate squad of judgmental jackals just what kind of unrestrained havoc a force of nature like us is capable of conjuring?" you practically growled, holding his blown-wide stare captive even as the energy crackling between your mingling breaths thickened to intoxicating degrees. "And give them all a little...private show we know they've been utterly dying to catch a tantalizing glimpse of behind closed doors for months now?"
A heartbeat ticked by with agonizing slowness as Bokuto simply stared at you slack-jawed, throat clicking in a convulsive swallow. One, two shuddering blinks later, and his jaw clenched with resolve as a guttural rumble tore itself loose from his chest.
"On your lead, partner...let's give these chucklehead civilians the night of their goddamn lives."
His wolfish smile, pure smoldering sin and white-hot charisma, was your only warning before he surged across the scant space separating you. You inhaled sharply at the sudden weight of his mouth blazing a trail of liquid fire along your jaw and throat - lush and seeking in a way that nearly had you whiting out from the searing onslaught of sensation.
No, there would be no holding back this time. No restraints or filters imposed as you two utterly annihilated every last barrier in your path. Not tonight.
Tonight was for raw, visceral consumption in its most primal sense. And you were both starving.
The low hum of conversation and soft music greeted you as the maître d' ushered you through the elegant double doors into the main dining room. Bokuto's broad palm pressed reassuringly against the small of your back, guiding you forward with an effortless confidence that paradoxically helped settle your nerves.
Despite all the risqué teasing and charged tension in the car, there was still something incredibly grounding about his solid presence at your side as you took in the opulent surroundings. This was your oldest friend in the world after all - the one person you'd always been able to rely on through every wild antic and scheme, no matter how outlandish.
"There they are," he murmured against your temple, the rumbling timbre of his voice stirring tingles across your skin. You followed his subtle nod towards a partially secluded booth near the back where three figures sat sprawled amid the tasteful low lighting.
Even from this distance, it was impossible to miss the unmistakable crown of fiery red locks belonging to Hinata Shoyo. He was turned in profile, but the animated way his hands gestured as he spoke marked him like a human exclamation point amid the group.
At his side sat the impressive bulk and perpetual furrow of Sakusa Kiyoomi, arms folded across his broad chest as he watched Hinata with ill-disguised bemusement. And lounging opposite them both with an ease borne from sheer confidence and charisma...
"Well I'll be damned," Atsumu Miya drawled as he caught sight of you both across the dining room. "The mighty Kou-kun actually did manage to snag himself a real life girlfriend after all this time!"
You felt Bokuto tense fractionally at your side, thumb rubbing an absent circle against the exposed skin of your back before he huffed out a soft snort. When he spoke, though, his tone was light and warm in a way that made your heart swell unexpectedly.
"Don't look so surprised there, Tsumu," he chuckled, guiding you both closer to the booth until you stood directly beside the table. A disarming grin split his handsome features, radiating the sort of sunny charm that made your breath catch each time unexpectedly. "Were you really doubting my unbeatable charm for so long, buddy? That's just cold."
Atsumu was quick to return the teasing jibe, leaning back with a dramatic roll of his eyes and smirk curling one side of his mouth. "Well can ya really blame a guy for keepin' his expectations low when it comes to your romantic prowess, Kou-kun? Yer not exactly batting a thousand when it comes to putting the moves on people, if ya know what I mean."
Despite yourself, you couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled free at the exaggerated tete-a-tete clearly being indulged between old friends and teammates. Hinata was quick to pick up on the shift, immediately swiveling in his seat to face you both with sparkling interest.
"Whoa, Atsumu! Is this the girlfriend Bokuto was telling u-" His warm brown eyes raked over you assessingly before widening in clear awestruck surprise. "Oh my gosh, you're-! I mean, I didn't realize you and Bokuto-san were actually, you know, dating and everything!"
You arched a single brow at that in silent query, though inside you felt a small swell of flattery blooming unexpectedly. It seemed Bokuto was quite the notorious gossip to his teammates when it came to the epic saga of your relationship, regardless of how frequently skewed facts were indulged upon.
To his credit, Bokuto looked the very picture of perfectly charmed embarrassment when he ducked his head, shooting you a sheepish sidelong look from beneath tousled silvery lashes. The tips of his ears had begun to redden ever so slightly in a rather endearingly boyish tell, one you'd seen countless times over the years.
"Well, I'll admit I may have waxed a bit poetic in singing my partner's endless virtues over the years," he murmured, carefully avoiding your teasing scrutiny as he addressed the others. You didn't miss the almost imperceptible tightening of his palm against your lower back at the gentle ribbing, though - nor the way it somehow managed to steady and center you despite the fleeting rush of nerves spiking through your system.
"But in my defense, how could any mere mortal hope to properly capture the full essence of such an ethereal, untouchable vision in mere words alone, gentlemen?" The crooked grin Bokuto flashed next set your pulse to skittering in a dangerous pattern, every fiber of attention narrowing to the way his thumb resumed those absent caresses against your spine. "Isn't that right, my radiant guiding star?"
You huffed out a soft breath at the unexpected endearment, equal parts charmed and exasperated despite yourself. Of course he would be utterly incorrigible about playing the devoted, overly effusive paramour to the hilt already.
"First of all, you don't get to melt me into a puddle with all your overwrought poetry that easily, Casanova," you fired back in a mild tone, though you made no move to step away from his side or dislodge the hand pressed so tenderly to the curve of your waist. "I happen to distinctly recall swearing off letting you ruin my makeup before we even got properly seated tonight."
Atsumu's bark of delighted laughter cut through the charged moment, startling you out of the impromptu staring contest you'd found yourself locked in with Bokuto's heated gaze. The blonde setter leaned forward eagerly, elbows resting atop the pristine linens as he grinned between you in open amusement.
"Aw damn, I like her already!" he chuckled, grey eyes sparkling with impish mischief. "Anyone who can verbally run circles 'round ol' Kou-kun that smoothly while still lettin' him slobber all over them with that ol' Casanova charm routine is a total winner in my book."
The tips of your ears warmed at the transparent, if playful, insinuation behind his words...though you couldn't quite hide the pleased tilt your lips took in response either. It seemed Bokuto's teammates were already wholeheartedly adopting you as part of their eccentric inner circle, and your confidence was quickly being bolstered by the unexpected warmth and levity being fostered around the table.
"She really is a regular gem though, isn't she?" Hinata chimed in brightly when the laughter tapered off. He leaned across Sakusa's impressive bulk with earnest eyes locked on you, one small hand extended in greeting. "We haven't gotten the chance to be properly acquainted yet, but Bokuto never stops talking about you! I'm Hinata Shoyo - it's so awesome to finally meet you in person!"
You clasped the proffered hand in a firm shake, unable to resist the infectious sincerity radiating off the diminutive redhead in waves. "It's wonderful to meet you as well, Hinata. Though I have to admit, I already feel like I know each of you gentlemen rather intimately after all the tales and boasting Bokuto has subjected me to over the years."
At that, you slid him a sly sidelong glance, lips curving into a soft teasing smile that seemed to stop Bokuto's breath in his throat - if the almost imperceptible tightening of his grip against you was any indication. "I'm afraid he truly has exceeded every acceptable boundary when it comes to gushing about his friends in excruciating detail."
To his credit, Bokuto didn't balk or try to deflect the gentle jab, simply basking in your approving look with open affection crinkling the corners of his eyes and mouth. Hinata straightened up with an impish grin, clearly picking up on the unspoken dynamic playing out so intimately between you.
"Well hey, if he runs his mouth off constantly singing your praises, I think that just means we were all secretly kind of hoping you two lovebirds would finally make things official eventually, right?" Another disarmingly sunny beam flashed in your direction, setting your pulse to tripping in earnest now. The implicit familiarity and warmth with which Hinata already folded you into their motley little group was both blindsiding and intensely heartwarming in equal measure. "I mean, Bokuto-san’s been carrying a crazy obvious torch for you since forever ago, from the way he never shut up about you!"
A flush crept up Bokuto's neck at that perfectly innocent disclosure, mouth twitching in a suppressed grimace of embarrassment. You couldn't resist darting a sly, utterly unsubtle look of silent query in his direction. He purposefully avoided your searching gaze, shoulders hunching almost imperceptibly as if preparing for the worst.
Just like that, the teasing banter around the table shifted from playful jocularity to something infinitely more loaded - weighted with an undeniable new gravity that had Atsumu and Hinata's grins faltering slightly. Even Sakusa's formidable mask of indifference slipped fractionally, one elegant brow lifting beneath the fall of inky curls obscuring his pale visage.
A thick, rapidly solidifying quiet descended over the group before you finally managed to rally, forcing a breezy chuckle from somewhere deep in your chest. The sound seemed to shatter the moment's strange tension back into something altogether warmer and more recognizable to you all.
"Well then, I apologize in advance for disappointing the lot of you on that particular front," you offered with an easy smile aimed first at Hinata, then around the table. You capped the quip off by leaning your weight subtly into Bokuto's solid frame, earning a sharp intake of breath from your partner as his stare locked onto yours again. "But I can promise the long, arduous waits and unspoken pining ends tonight for our dear Bokuto. We're both far too emotionally evolved and secure in our commitment to keep dancing around the obvious any longer, isn't that right darling?"
The endearment dripped off your tongue with smooth, sugared sincerity despite the open wink you aimed Bokuto's way. To his immense credit though, he rallied admirably - entire demeanor shifting back towards his usual unflappable swagger and roguish charm as he slid an arm securely around your waist.
"You heard the woman, boys. No more need to keep up this weary facade of us being anything other than the deliriously smitten item we truly are," he rumbled, lips curving into that lopsided smirk that did utterly unreasonable things to your pulse point. He dipped his head fractionally until you could feel the silken caress of his hair whispering against your cheek, mouth a scant breath from your own as he murmured softly. "Isn't that right...my heavenly flame?"
You held his heated stare levelly, throat clicking in a steadying swallow before arching one brow in silent invitation. An inviting curve graced your lips at the brief flicker of something ferociously intent that flared across Bokuto's expression before he turned his focus back on the others with a disarmingly sunny grin.
The comfortable cadences of conversation resumed around you in that moment, though you remained hyper-aware of the solid weight of Bokuto's palm spanning your hip. Of the occasional gusts of his warm breath stirring gossamer tendrils against your cheek and throat each time he leaned in to punctuate a story or witty retort to the ongoing banter.
Just as you had predicted, you realized with a sense of burgeoning satisfaction. The two of you seemed to have thoroughly and irrevocably secured your roles in this little dramatic facade.
Though judging by Bokuto's occasional sidelong glances and poorly concealed looks of open adoration directed your way when he thought you weren't paying careful attention...you got the distinct impression your partner in chaos was no longer playing merely for show.
Not when the tender sweep of his thumb against your wrist had taken on an unconsciously sensual caress you felt reverberating straight to your core.
Or when his luminous gaze threatened to strip you bare to your deepest foundations in unguarded moments whenever your eyes inevitably found themselves locking and holding with electric intensity once more...
No, there was no doubt about it. Despite your carefully laid plans and meticulous choreography preparing you for this very evening, Bokuto Kotaro was officially steering this emotional upheaval somewhere entirely unscripted and irrevocable.
And you couldn't quite decide whether you were utterly elated or terribly apprehensive at the thrilling prospect of seeing precisely where the detour he was plotting might take you both next.
The soft murmur of conversation and clinking silverware filled the air, punctuated by Atsumu's occasional bawdy joke or Hinata's bright peals of laughter. You fielded their friendly interrogation about how you and Bokuto first started dating with well-practiced ease - embellishing backstories and twisting innocent anecdotes just enough to maintain plausible deniability.
"So lemme get this straight," Atsumu leaned back, eyeing you both with an appraising look. "You two crazy kids knew each other all the way until high school, but never actually got your acts together until running into one another again randomly a few years later?"
You nodded, feeling Bokuto's thigh press solidly against yours beneath the table. "That's right. All those years of unresolved tension and lingering feelings finally just...combusted one night when we reconnected over drinks."
A roguish grin split Atsumu's features as he wiggled his brows suggestively. "I'll bet. Dontcha just hate it when all that pent up unresolved sexual tension hits ya like a sledgehammer to the nuts and you can't do anything but rip each other's clothes off for a—?"
"Atsumu!" Hinata cried, looking scandalized as he swatted his teammate's arm. You stifled a laugh as Bokuto shifted uncomfortably, a hint of pink tingeing those defined cheekbones.
From the corner of your eye, you caught Sakusa's usual impassive mask slipping slightly, mouth twitching as if resisting the urge to sneer outright at the vulgar banter. Those dark, piercing eyes found yours across the table and held them in a quietly scrutinizing stare. You met his silent appraisal head on, features schooled into neutrality.
Under the table, Bokuto's hand found yours, fingers threading together and squeezing tightly. You slanted him a look of silent understanding, trapping his other hand against your thigh in a reciprocal gesture of reassurance. The slight tremor you felt betrayed his nerves at being placed under such unyielding scrutiny, but he squeezed back fiercely all the same.
"Well, if Kou-kun is even half as good at deliverin' the goods behind closed doors as he is at performin' on the court, I'm sure things got nice and wild for you crazy lovebirds that night," Atsumu continued breezily, utterly uncaring of the atmosphere's shift towards tension.
To your surprise, you felt Bokuto tense sharply beside you, fingers tightening around yours in an anxious grip. Bewildered, you watched as that bright, sunny confidence seemed to bleed from his expression in real time - golden eyes going dim and shoulders slumping infinitesimally.
And just like that, you recognized the warning signs solidifying into place with a lurch of your stomach. Emo-mode, the bane of your existence.
You opened your mouth, about to cut in with some smooth deflection before matters could escalate any further. But you were beaten to the punch by a small, derisive scoff from Sakusa's side of the table.
"As if someone as emotionally stunted as Bokuto could ever hope to satisfy a real woman properly," he drawled, dark eyes glittering with unveiled disdain. "He's clearly still just an overgrown, emotionally-incontinent child playing make-believe at being a mature, capable adult."
The table fell into a shocked hush, charged and bristling in the wake of Sakusa's blunt dismissal. You could practically see the shutters slamming down behind Bokuto's eyes, mouth tightening into a flat line as every vestige of lightness drained from his demeanor.
"Oh come on, Omi-kun! That's a bit harsh, don't you thin-" Hinata began placatingly, only to halt when you waved a dismissive hand in his direction.
"Save your breath, Sho," you said easily, not even sparing Sakusa a glance as you shifted closer to Bokuto's side. "If Omi-kun wants to project his own intimacy issues all over the place, I say we just let him get it off his chest."
Bokuto stiffened slightly beside you, so you threw an arm around his broad shoulders and leaned fully into his personal space. With your free hand, you trailed your fingertips along the sculpted line of his pec through the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the firm muscle jump beneath your teasing caress.
"Although..." You drawled, letting your nails rake lightly over his chest now. "If the brooding man is really that curious about Kou's prowess behind closed doors, I'm more than happy to give a full review right here and now."
You punctuated the loaded statement by slanting a boldly challenging look at Sakusa, lips curving into a smirk at the way his perpetual frown deepened ever so slightly in response to your brazen flirting.
"Let's just say that despite how childish this one can act around you sad sacks," you continued blithely, giving Bokuto's pec an indulgent squeeze that had his breath hitching audibly. "He's anything but immature when we're tangled up together in private."
The tips of Atsumu's ears went cherry red, jaw dropping open in a small 'o' of shock. Hinata looked equally aghast, hands flying up to cover his flaming cheeks as an embarrassed giggle slipped free. But Sakusa...Sakusa was the real prize, straightening in his seat and openly staring at you both now with what could only be grudging interest glinting in those obsidian eyes.
Feeling emboldened by his apparent investment in the conversation's tawdry turn, you slid your palm up to cup the solid weight of Bokuto's bicep, giving an appreciative squeeze that had the thick cords of muscle jumping beneath your fingers.
"Am I right or am I right, big guy?" You aimed the husky endearment directly at Bokuto, enjoying the way his complexion immediately took on a ruddy hue high across those razor-sharp cheekbones.
He blinked a few times, seeming to shake off his stupor with visible effort before settling you with a playful, smoldering look that went straight to your core in a dizzying rush of heat.
"Well, you know how I always strive for excellence in everything, babe," he rumbled, lips quirking into that lopsided grin that showed off his sharp canines. He dropped his voice another sin-cured register, gaze burning into yours from beneath his lashes as he continued. "Wouldn't wanna half-ass anything and disappoint a passionate woman like yourself, now would I?"
The promise behind that bedroom rasp was utterly unmistakable. You felt a shiver tingle deliciously down your spine at the overt suggestion, pupils blowing wide as you drank in the sight of your usually boisterous partner positively oozing rugged masculinity in that moment.
Somewhere between your parted thighs, you became aware of a telltale throb of heated interest making itself known. You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to squirm as prickles of arousal ghosted beneath your skin in delirious waves.
"Mmm, well I certainly can't argue with the results," you managed after a moment, pitching your tone into one of artfully feigned indifference despite the molten lava simmering in your veins now.
You slid one palm higher, knuckles grazing Bokuto's stubbled jaw in a searing caress as you held his blazing stare steadily.
"Pretty sure I've never once had cause to be anything less than...fully satiated and left quivering in the aftermath of your efforts, lover."
The blunt insinuation hung heavy in the air, dripping with unsubtle promise. Bokuto looked like he was two seconds away from spontaneously combusting right there at the table - eyes blown wide, chest heaving beneath the thin fabric of his shirt as his Adam's apple bobbed convulsively.
You simply arched one brow at his stunned expression, finally leaning back in your seat with a picture of nonchalant composure. As if you hadn't just been openly insinuating about the devastating prowess of his lovemaking mere moments ago.
Atsumu coughed roughly into his fist, still looking faintly scandalized. Hinata just kept darting bewildered glances between the pair of you, seemingly at a total loss. But Sakusa...
Sakusa regarded you with those impenetrable dark eyes for a long moment, carefully schooling his features into an inscrutable mask once more. Then the barest hint of a smirk quirked the corner of his mouth as he inclined his head a few fractional degrees.
"I'll give you this much - that whole overtly crass flirting act you've got going on takes a surprising amount of gall I didn't think you'd have in you," he remarked in that low, disaffected drawl of his. His smirk deepened by a few molars as he fixed Bokuto with a pointed look. "Though I suppose keeping up with this rambunctious headcase on a daily basis would require a significant lack of shame from anyone."
The backhanded compliment hung there, loaded with unspoken implication. You simply hummed softly in response, offering Sakusa a serene smile as you toyed with the stem of your wineglass.
"Why thank you kindly, Omi-kun. I'll take that as basically the closest thing to a glowing character endorsement I'm likely to get out of you for the foreseeable future." You tipped your glass at him in a small, mocking toast. "I do so appreciate the subtle acknowledgment of my brazen nature as being a core component of what snared such a virile, unapologetic peacock like my dear Kou in the end."
Sakusa snorted indelicately at the oblique dig, but let the matter slide in that same graceful display of aloof detachment he excelled at. Just like that, the brief undercurrent of simmering tension evaporated back into the comfortable warmth and easy banter you'd been immersed in all evening.
Hinata must have picked up on the new lightness settling back over the table, because he immediately turned to you both with a toothy grin and gleam of curiosity dancing in his warm brown eyes.
"So what was it that made you finally realize you were in love with each other?" he asked brightly, pushing his plate aside to lean across the table eagerly. "I mean, you said you two knew each other forever growing up, but was there like...a singular moment or event where you both had that huge 'oh crap, I'm head over heels for this person' epiphany?"
You felt Bokuto tense almost imperceptibly at your side, shoulders squaring beneath the weight of Hinata's innocent questioning. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched his features rapidly cycle through a range of micro-expressions - surprise, nervousness, that telltale hint of panic that always preceded his infamous Emo Mode onsets...
Quick as a flash, you reached beneath the table and tangled your fingers through his, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Already, you were racking your brain for some plausible, romantic anecdote to spin Hinata's way and defuse the tension before—
"Yeah buddy, there sure was!"
Bokuto's voice rang out, clear and strong and utterly devoid of uncertainty as he squeezed your hand in return. You froze, scarcely daring to breathe as you watched his face utterly transform - melting from apprehension into that achingly earnest warmth and sincerity he always managed to project as clear as the summer sky.
"Sure, we knew each other practically our whole lives before then," Bokuto continued easily, locking eyes with you as a small, impossibly tender smile bloomed across his face. "But I don't think either of us realized just how deep our bond extended past mere friendship or sibling-like affection until this one fateful afternoon back in our middle school days..."
As if in a trance, you watched Bokuto's gaze drift into the middle distance as his deep timbre washed over the table - rich and hypnotic in a way that raised gooseflesh across every inch of your skin. You were so enraptured that you barely registered the way Hinata, Atsumu, and even Sakusa seemed to lean imperceptibly closer as well, helplessly drawn into the gravity of Bokuto's recollections as he continued.
"It was the first real warm, sunny day kicking off spring that year if I'm remembering right," he murmured softly, brow wrinkling slightly in concentration. "You came over to my place straight after classes let out wearing that cute yellow sundress with the white daisies printed all across the skirt - the one you always said brought out the warmth in your complexion even though I thought you looked lovely in anything..."
He shook his head with a soft chuckle, swiping his thumb almost unconsciously along the plump ridge of your knuckles. You could only stare, utterly transfixed by the impossibly tender aura radiating off Bokuto as he recounted these seemingly mundane details from your shared childhoods.
"Anyway, I remember being so pumped to show off this new trick I'd finally gotten down for hitting my jump serve properly after weeks of struggling with it. We biked over to the neighborhood court I used to frequent constantly those days, remember? The one tucked away behind that old batting cage that was always deserted on weekday afternoons?"
You felt your brows furrow slightly as Bokuto's rich timbre washed over you, pulling you deeper into the recollection unfolding. The court he referred to rang a vague bell, but you couldn't quite place the specific details he seemed to recall with such vivid clarity.
"When we got there though, I noticed the whole area had been totally swept up and cleaned out - not a single loose pebble or speck of sand marring the cracked surface." Bokuto shook his head in amazement, eyes growing distant. "Which was wild, because that place was usually a total wasteland by that point most days after school. Every nook and cranny would be just littered with junk from the neighborhood brats always convening there, y'know?"
You nodded slowly, a strange sense of disquiet beginning to unfurl in your chest as his words conjured those stray flashes of familiarity that simply wouldn't quite coalesce into full memories just yet.
"But there you were, already standing there by the net with this cute little flushed face and that ridiculously oversized broom clutched in both hands!" Bokuto punctuated this observation with a rich chuckle, one palm not currently entwined with yours coming up to rasp along the stubbled cut of his jaw. "I remember putting the pieces together right then and just...staring at you in total awe, because you'd clearly busted your cute butt to make sure the whole area was polished up to perfection just for my sake before I even got there!"
A strange thrill shot up your spine at the sincerity brimming in his voice - the naked awe and affection he aimed your way as those warm amber eyes heated to simmering levels once more. Despite yourself, you found yourself leaning infinitesimally closer as if drawn into the gravity well of his recollections against your will.
"You played it all off with that trademark prickly bluster, of course," Bokuto continued with a sly grin that did funny things to your heart rate. "Insisting you just wanted to make sure I wasn't going to crack my skull open while trying new move."
He shrugged one solid shoulder, gaze searching yours with impossible warmth and tenderness. "But I knew the real truth even back then, babe. I could see it in the way you were watching me so intently with those bright, hopeful eyes - in the slight pink tint dusting your cheeks whenever I caught you staring at me while I ran through my warm up tosses..."
A soft, private smile bloomed across his features then, luminous enough to stop your breath in your lungs. "That was the very moment I realized you were so, so much more to me than just my oldest friend or surrogate sibling, you know? It hit me right then and there that you'd gone so far out of your way to do something so simple yet incredibly thoughtful and heartfelt, just to make me happy."
You could only stare mutely as Bokuto's larger palm found yours atop the table linens, engulfing your fingers in his calloused grasp with devastating tenderness. Every nerve ending in your body seemed to spark to blistering life at the contact - a lightning rod of awareness sharpening until it felt like you could discern each individual callous striating his palms, the subtle scent of fresh sweat and citrusy body wash that always seemed to cling to his sun-kissed skin...
"That was when I finally understood how deep my feelings had grown for you - how they were swiftly eclipsing the realm of childish affection or friendship entirely." Bokuto's voice emerged hardly above a hushed murmur, pitched for your ears alone despite the proximity of his teammates. He regarded you with burning intensity, as if willing you to see the truth blazing naked and exposed in every word. "You became my universe that day, babe. My every waking thought and source of joy, just like that..."
His stare lifted to lock onto yours with renewed intensity, clearly expecting some form of reciprocation or affirmation from you. But the words seemed to wither and die on your tongue as you took in the complex whirlwind of emotion swirling through those achingly familiar irises - so much raw gratitude and reverent affection bleeding through that molten golden glow that you swore you could actually feel the waves of heat undulating off him in physical pulses.
Bokuto huffed out another quiet chuckle at your continued, shell-shocked silence, swiping his thumb in one last caressing arc along your knuckles.
"Yeah, guess I'm probably starting to sound a bit loopy, huh?" His nose wrinkled into that boyish grin you'd always found so irresistibly endearing, though his gaze remained soft and terribly earnest as it clung to yours. "But hopefully that at least gives you sad sacks a little glimpse into the sorta stuff that made me realize real early on I could never hope to find a more perfect partner in crime than my best bro growing up."
You swallowed hard, mouth feeling like you'd attempted to swallow an entire handful of hot coals. The utter rawness and vulnerability etched into every nuance of Bokuto's expression sent ripples of scalding...something thundering through your nerve endings with dizzying rapidity. You struggled to place the torrential maelstrom of foreign sensations roiling in your gut - flickering fragments of nostalgia, affection, heated admiration all sluiced together into a conflagration of feeling that threatened to utterly consume you alive before ever finding solid definition.
Distantly, you registered the loud clatter of Hinata dropping his fork against his plate, the dull thud of Atsumu's boots striking the underside of the table in a startled jostle. But not even Sakusa shifting almost imperceptibly forward, dark eyes glittering with veiled intensity could penetrate the electric, encompassing bubble that had enveloped you and Bokuto in that singular, scorching moment of communion.
It wasn't until his gaze finally slid away, softening into something vaguely sheepish as he reached up to rub at his nape, that you managed to suck down a shuddering lungful of air. The simple, intrinsically Bokuto-esque gesture jarred you back into your surroundings enough to shake off the entrancing, suspended stupor clinging to your senses like rapidly evaporating ether.
"Anyway," he mumbled around a self-conscious chuckle, the tips of his ears dusting with a faint ruddy blush. "Maybe that was laying the sappiness on a bit too thick, huh? You know me though - always been an overly sentimental, heart-on-my-sleeve kinda romantic when it comes to the people who really ma—"
"No."
The soft, slightly hoarse denial seemed to startle Bokuto, effectively derailing the beginnings of his sputtered, babbling attempt to defuse the heavy tension still weighing over the table. He visibly startled, gaze darting back to yours with open surprise etching creases between his dark wings of brow.
"No, Kou...no that wasn't too thick at all," you managed, the words scraping themselves from your sandpaper throat against your will.
You'd meant to continue, to offer some form of coherent response in the wake of the emotional whiplash he'd just wrought upon you. But your lungs seemed to seize in protest instead, breath catching behind the blazing tightness squeezing through your chest as you simply stared back at your very best friend and confidante of nearly two full decades now.
In that breathless, ineffably charged beat of silence...you realized with sudden, gut-punching clarity that no matter what ridiculous, convoluted fiction or fable you spun to fool his teammates and their own jagged edges, Bokuto Kotaro would forever remain the greatest, most undeniable truth grounding every facet of your existence.
And in the flickering banked embers radiating from those beloved golden depths...you belatedly understood that you'd arrived at an event horizon where there could no longer be any hope of denying or restraining the inevitability of you both hopelessly, irrevocably colliding together in a spectacular Singularity.
"Hey..." The intimately hushed cadence of Bokuto's gravelly murmur lanced through the crackling tension like a lightning strike, searing your already overheated nerves into scorching new focus. "You okay over there, babe? Not gonna go spacey and float off on me after I unloaded all that nostalgic sap all over the place, are ya?"
His words registered, but only dimly - muffled and distant as though filtering through several layers of dense atmosphere. All you could seem to fully comprehend in that moment was the sight of that gentle, self-deprecating grin tugging one corner of his plush lips upwards. The way it softened those typically sharp, hawkish features into an expression so open and lushly affectionate that you felt your pulse trip over itself anew, stomach swooping inexorably with its own treacherous gravity.
"Kou, I..." The confession began thick and tremulous behind the vice squeezing your throat shut. Unbidden, you felt the corners of your mouth tilt upwards, mirroring his fond look completely against your will. "I...shit, I have no idea what I'm doing anymore, do I?"
Bokuto's grin gentled further at the admission, seeming to thaw even the final vestiges of tightly-coiled restraint lingering in the austere lines of his shoulders and posture. With a familiarity that spoke of two souls sharing the most intimate of proximities across countless lifetimes, he leaned in incrementally closer - that fiercely open gaze flickering between your eyes, settling briefly upon the telling dip of your pulse fluttering like a trapped hummingbird above your collarbones, skating hungrily across the plush curves of your mouth before meeting your stare once more.
"Just keep being you, babe," he murmured simply, the words hanging in a low, resonant thrum between you for a fraction of eternity before the world beyond seemed to catch up and snap back into focus once more. "That's always been more than enough to leave this poor sap hopelessly bewitched…"
The rest of the meal passed in a warm blur of laughter, stories, and easy camaraderie. Bokuto settled back into his usual over-the-top antics alongside his teammates, regaling the group with increasingly wild tales that had you all cracking up between bites.
You found yourself able to relax as well, basking in the affectionate familiarity permeating the atmosphere. Every now and then, you'd catch Bokuto flashing you a sidelong look, all quiet smiles and unguarded warmth shimmering in his ridiculous pretty eyes. It made something soft and fragile unfurl within your chest each time.
Before you knew it, the waiter was dropping off the check with an understated flourish. Atsumu craned his neck, whistling low at the total while Hinata made a noise of dismay at the exorbitant pricing. Only Sakusa looked unsurprised, already reaching for his wallet.
"C'mon guys, we all know this fancy-schmancy place was Koutarou's pick in an attempt to properly woo his lady love," he drawled, sliding his credit card free. "At least let the lovebirds cover this one since I'm sure the evening's 'festivities' are far from over, if you catch my drift."
Atsumu cackled at the sly dig while Hinata just sputtered awkwardly, ears blazing red. You simply rolled your eyes, though you couldn't quite smother the small grin tugging at your mouth.
In the end, Sakusa did insist on covering the hefty bill himself, waving away the others' half-hearted protests with his typical aloof assurances. Bokuto nudged you with an elbow and a conspiratorial wink while leaning close.
"Looks like you played the saucy seductress role a bit too convincingly there, gorgeous," he murmured against your temple, the words curling deliciously down your spine. "I think our prickly friend might've been genuinely flustered by your raw sexual charisma for once."
You made a small noise of amusement, though you let your hand drift beneath the tablecloth to rest atop his thigh in mocking reprimand. Almost instantly, Bokuto's teeth sank into that plush lower lip in a silent display of barely-restrained want that only amplified the simmering heat already starting to coil between you.
"Play your cards right, and I might even give you a more...intimate encore performance later, lover," you purred back, delighting in the way his eyelids fluttered shut briefly against your blatant provocation.
That delicious weight hung between you, thick and heady - until Atsumu loudly cleared his throat nearby. When your gazes snapped back up, the others were regarding you with varying degrees of disgruntled amusement and fond exasperation written across their faces.
"God, save it for the honeymoon suite you two!" Atsumu groused without any real bite. "If you're gonna keep eye-humping each other like that right in front of us, at least give us a head's up to vacate first, yeah?"
Hinata dissolved into a fresh round of flustered giggles while even Sakusa rolled his eyes skyward, fighting a smile of his own. Amidst the playful ribbing, you and Bokuto exchanged a sidelong look charged with renewed electricity - one that screamed of promises to be indulged very soon.
Eventually, everyone rose from the table in preparation to depart. You moved to follow, only to pause as Bokuto leaned in once more.
"Hey, did you maybe want to call it a night?" he murmured close to your ear, careful to keep his expression neutral as the others milled about nearby. "Or did my charming leading man act leave you craving a bit more one-on-one private time with yours truly later?"
You sucked in a sharp breath at the clear implication behind his words, well aware of the heated look he was undoubtedly aiming your way without even needing to meet his stare fully. For a brief heartbeat, you seriously considered agreeing - envisioning the two of you departing in a tangle of heated breath and roaming hands, rushing back to whichever private sanctuary you could find first to finally indulge this whirlwind of simmering desires between you...
But then good sense prevailed. With visible reluctance, you shook your head.
"As tempting as that sounded, I think decorum demands we make at least a token appearance for a bit longer if your rowdy friends have plans to continue this raucous evening elsewhere," you sighed, hating the small pout that tugged at Bokuto's lips unbidden. "At least for a little while, anyway."
He seemed to consider arguing, eyes darkening to molten gold in a way that promised deliciously deviant intentions should you change your mind. But in the end, Bokuto simply slipped his car keys from his pocket and pressed them into your waiting palm with a wolfish grin.
"In that case, gorgeous...do me a favor and go ahead and get the engine warmed up for me, yeah? Give us something to look forward to later when this whole charade inevitably winds down finally."
The sheer heat lacing his voice sparked tingles of anticipation straight to your core. Swallowing hard, you simply nodded wordlessly and accepted the keys from his calloused grasp.
You aimed for nonchalance as you retrieved your purse and swept from the restaurant's dimly lit interior, though the anticipatory thrum buzzing beneath your skin made it impossible not to throw a lingering look over your shoulder as you reached the foyer. Bokuto caught the silent summons instantly, liquid mercury gaze searing you in a wordless caress that only amplified the dizzying high building steadily within your bloodstream.
As you finally stepped out into the cool evening air, glass doors swinging shut behind you, it was impossible not to feel as though you were crossing over some indefinable threshold into uncharted territory. Already, you could feel the first pangs of restless need gnawing at the edges of your composure with each unhurried stride carrying you towards where Bokuto's car idled in the adjacent lot.
By the time you settled into the soft leather driver's seat, inhaling the clinging remnants of his cologne's earthy notes, the maelstrom of questions threatening to unravel your hard-won restraint threatened to boil over completely. You sank back against the headrest and blew out a shaky breath, fingers twisting in the hem of your dress.
What was happening here, in all actuality? This insane evening had started off as nothing more than a flimsy facade to indulge Bokuto's latest bout of unnecessary chaos. But then he'd begun conjuring those shockingly candid personal recollections with such heartfelt vibrancy and naked sincerity, leaving you rattled down to your core.
You worried your lower lip, suddenly desperate to know if everything about those stories had been genuine confessions from the secret chambers of Bokuto's heart...or merely another deceptively convincing act for the benefit of his teammates' prying eyes and probing questions.
God, but if he had been telling the truth behind all of it - laying his most sentimental inner self bare for your appraisal like some raw, exposed nerve ending quivering in the elements...what did that mean for the delicately balanced status quo of your relationship stretching back decades?
Uncertainty thrummed like a living thing, feeding off the echoing residue of Bokuto's words that only continued searing across your unsettled psyche with each passing minute. You needed answers, needed validation one way or another before allowing yourself to be swept any deeper into this rip current of escalating tension and undeniable...something that you could no longer ignore simmering between you.
Heaving another fortifying exhale, you sank your fingers into Bokuto's familiar leather seats and forced yourself to be patient. He would return soon enough with whatever plans the others had undoubtedly concocted by now. Then you would corner him, would demand the vulnerability you glimpsed tonight be laid bare once more in the name of unraveling this Gordian knot binding you into constricted agony the longer it went ignored.
For better or worse, you'd finally unearth the bedrock truth dwelling at the heart of this steadily shifting storm tonight...
Eventually, the spill of electric amber light announcing the return of the restaurant's revolving doors drew your gaze upwards. Sure enough, that familiar hulking silhouette soon emerged through the soft glow, the rest of his teammates filing out behind him in a loose cluster.
You watched, breath stilled somewhere in your throat, as Bokuto half-turned to exchange parting handshakes and backslaps with the others. Even from this distance, his smile shone like a supernova against the backdrop of Tokyo's glittering twilight skyline, brimming with boundless charisma and magnetic charm to the very last.
As if sensing your focus, he suddenly turned those molten irises your way across the distance separating you. The wink he favored you with was teasing and playful...but beneath it simmered a searing promise too heated to be anything less than entirely sincere and undisguised.
Your pulse kicked up another fevered notch in response, thighs clenching with restless anticipation even as Bokuto threw his head back in a rich peal of laughter at some parting jibe. When his shoulders finally turned and he began loping across the pavement in your direction, it almost felt like a physical phenomenon - as if the whole world had shifted slightly off its axis to better align with the singular gravity he projected.
Before you could even begin formulating greetings or pleasantries, Bokuto was already hauling open the driver's side door and ducking inside in one languid, graceful motion. The breath you'd been hoarding escaped in a shuddery exhale as his clean, crisp scent and physical presence overwhelmed your senses in an intoxicating rush.
He settled in beside you with that same unhurried nonchalance, shooting you a sidelong grin that did unspeakable things to your pulse point. A heavy pause lingered, thick and heady as he simply drank in your expression with lidded eyes.
"Well, babydoll..." Bokuto rumbled at last, tongue darting out to wet those lush lips in a tantalizing sweep you couldn't tear your eyes from. "I gotta say, we absolutely crushed that little performance back there, huh? Even those hardened skeptics couldn't deny our raw chemistry by the time the check rolled around, am I right or am I right?"
It took you a steadying inhale before you could unstick your tongue enough to respond properly, pulse thrumming wildly against the exposed hollow of your throat.
"Koutaro, did-"
The soft snick of his palm lifting cut off your faltering question before it could fully form. You held your breath, frozen in the act of leaning unconsciously closer as his calloused fingertips grazed your jawline in a whisper-soft graze. The tender stroke traveled downwards, mapping the delicate arch of your cheekbone and the slight dip in your cupid's bow with rapt intensity.
"You were magnificent, you know that?" he breathed out in a low, gravelly husk that had tingles erupting across every inch of your sensitized skin. "Everything about your raw confidence and that simmering sensuality you project...God, it drives me crazy just being in the same room as you most days."
His eyes slid shut on the final syllables, those impossibly long lashes fanning across the razor-sharp vees sculpting his high cheekbones. In the neon wash of the parking lot strobing across his face, his handsome features looked nothing short of transcendent - a true archetype of primal masculinity and searing intensity given living, sentient form before your very eyes.
You couldn't breathe. Could barely manage to swallow past the molten lava scorching the backs of your eyes and squeezing your throat into a vise as you drank in the sight of Bokuto Kotaro kneeling utterly at the altar of some unnameable, overpowering compulsion currently beckoning between you both.
When his eyes finally flickered open once more, the full force of that smoldering gaze struck you like an electrical charge directly to the solar plexus. Later, you might try to convince yourself that the rasping whine of pure, desperate _want_ that punched itself free from your chest had been another's entirely. But in that suspended eternity, it was impossible to deny or refute the pathways Bokuto's heated, worshipful regard ignited in your core.
Incrementally, his free hand lifted to join the other - twin callused brands scalding along the planes of your cheeks and jaw as he cradled your face with infinite reverence. You shivered helplessly at the covetous drag of his thumbs along the sleek columns of your throat, everything narrowing to the pounding of your pulsepoint being mapped and reverently traced by his deft, seeking touches.
"Kou..." The single syllable cracked and fractured on your tongue with all the strained resonance of fracturing stone. His name emerged ragged and desiccated with want, heavy with a lifetime of implications neither of you seemed willing or able to confront fully, even now.
You searched his heated gaze, feeling the world narrow until only the two of you existed within that smoldering vortex. Muscle by muscle, you forced your lungs to expand on a shuddering inhale, summoning your voice back from wherever it had fled.
"Was all that stuff you said back there..." You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly arid. "About those childhood memories and feelings...was it all real? Or just a convincing act for your teammates?"
A heavy pause lingered as Bokuto's expression cycled through a series of indecipherable micro-shifts. Just when you thought he might dodge the question entirely, his lips twitched toward that achingly familiar lopsided grin.
"What, you think I'm some sorta savant who can whip up heartfelt, introspective soliloquies full of poetic detail and raw truth on the fly?" One thick brow arched upward, eyes sparking with playful challenge. "You overestimate me, babydoll."
You held his pointed stare, refusing to be deflected so easily this time. A tense moment stretched out until Bokuto's expression sobered, shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly.
"No...no, you're right. That stuff back there about us as kids and how much you meant - mean - to me..." He exhaled roughly, fingers resuming their restless caresses along your jaw. "Every single syllable was the unvarnished, god's honest truth, gorgeous. I'd never lie or pull punches about how I really feel when it comes to you."
The naked sincerity in his tone struck you like a physical blow, causing your breath to stutter. You watched, mesmerized, as Bokuto's throat clicked in a convulsive swallow before pressing onward.
"All those things I reminisced about - the way you used to cheer me on through every little triumph or setback, be my fearless partner on whatever new misadventure we got tangled up in every other week...the way you saw me, really saw me through that kaleidoscope lens of yours that made me feel like the most important person in the whole goddamn universe?"
He shook his head slowly, eyes gleaming with something suspiciously like moisture in the low lighting.
"How could I ever fabricate or pretend about shit that fundamentally shaped who I grew into both on and off the court? Stuff that still sustains me and grounds me on my worst days when the rest of the world gets too blurry to make sense of?" One hand strayed upwards to thumb reverently at your cheekbone, featherlight and utterly intoxicating.
"You're my gravity well, [Y/N]. The warmth and sanctuary that this vagabond soul knows it can always return to without fear or reservation..." A lopsided, tender smile that pierced you straight through the heart. "So yeah, every unguarded, embarrassingly sincere word I spilled back there came straight from the most vulnerable and sacred chambers of my heart. You believe me now, don't you?"
The silence that greeted his softly implored question thrummed between you with heated weight. You could only gape at Bokuto, suddenly robbed of any other response beyond staring into those beloved sunburst irises gleaming with so much unspoken emotion and naked truth.
After several suspended eternities ticked by, you found your voice once more - slightly hoarse, but no less adamant in its conviction.
"So...you're telling me you're in love with me?" The words seemed to vibrate across your parted lips with the force of revelation. "After all this time as friends, as partners in every possible sense of the word...you've been carrying feelings for me all along that go far beyond that?"
Despite the enormity of your quietly uttered question, Bokuto didn't flinch or deflect. He simply held your gaze steadily, lashes dipping in a slow blink of wordless acknowledgment before those slender shoulders rolled in the smallest of casual shrugs.
"Well, duh," was his only verbal response - as succinct and casually devastating as a point-blank gunshot at close range.
The next few heartbeats stretched into an eternity of utterly bewildering suspension. Then, before your conscious mind could even begin parsing the rippling magnitude of Bokuto's admission, you were already moving. One second, you were gaping at the unshakable object of your oldest friend and eternal confidante laid emotionally naked before you. The next, your body acted of its own furious volition - launching itself bodily across the cramped interior until you collided with Bokuto in an explosive tangle of gasped breaths and roaming, frantically searching hands.
The first brush of his parted lips against yours detonated like a cosmic shockwave, shattering apart the last remnants of restraint and repression between you in one incandescent, full-bodied eruption. Bokuto groaned into the heated seal, falling back against the door with bruising force as his calloused palms came up to cradle your face.
You drank in the sound like a woman dying of thirst, slanting your mouth over his with desperate greed until your noses mashed and you could taste his sharp whimper on your tongue. Wasted years of rigid refusal and tamped-down desires pooled in your gut like molten lava, scalding every fiber of control you scrabbled to cling to until you could do nothing but surrender utterly to the sensation of Bokuto's lips searing themselves against yours with unbridled passion.
His arms wound around your arching spine, pulling you bodily into the cradle of his powerful thighs until you were both reduced to a tangle of thrashing, heated limbs. A low, visceral groan tore itself free from the deepest recesses of Bokuto's chest as your fingers sank into the feathery strands at his nape - swallowing down the sound greedily as you mapped every ridge of his full mouth in hungry reacquaintance.
Neither of you could be certain how long the two of you remained fused together like that, hips undulating against one another as hands roamed with frantic, impassioned urgency. Everything narrowed to the slick velvet seal of Bokuto's mouth, the warm salt of his skin beneath your lips and tongue as you dragged them reverently along his jaw. He trembled against you with barely restrained ardor, fingers clutching in your hair with possessive insistence as he gasped your name like a tattered prayer between each plunging reclamation of your lips.
By the time the dizzying need for oxygen forced you to draw apart, you both were utterly disheveled and wild-eyed - panting harshly with swollen lips and pupils blown wide by an entirely different brand of intoxication than either of you had experienced before. Bokuto stared up at you with naked hunger etched across his beloved features, thumbs sweeping along the sharp vees of your cheekbones with almost religious devotion tingeing his motions.
Unable to resist, you ducked forward to seal your mouths together once more in a far more tender, unhurried meeting full of wordless reassurance and affection. An undercurrent of new, unexplored intimacy and tenderness that had your very bones seeming to dissolve into boneless rapture with each torturously slow glide of tongue and caressing press of lips.
Bokuto sighed against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you both with raw longing. His big hands came up to cradle your face, fingertips brushing the soft baby hairs at your temples as he savored the languid glide of your mouths moving together. There was no rushed hunger or desperate need in his motions - just a willingness to fully immerse himself in this new level of intimacy blossoming between you both.
You nipped at his plush lower lip, tugging gently until he parted for you with a soft groan. The first sweep of your tongue against his was electrifying, stoking embers low in your belly as you mapped the slick velvet heat. Bokuto rumbled wordless approval, one hand sliding down to fist in the hair at your nape to angle your head aside for deeper exploration.
The next few moments stretched into a heated eternity of simply rediscovering one another through this new lens. There was no urgency beyond taking your time tasting, feeling, surrendering to the simple act of making out with a heady, smoldering intensity. Bokuto practically liquefied against you with each pass of your seeking tongue, broad chest vibrating against yours with quiet whimpers and gasping exhalations of pleasure.
Eventually, need for air forced you to part, sharing humid breaths between your slick, swollen lips. Bokuto immediately ducked in to mouth along the sharp line of your jaw, lips brushing against your racing pulse point. A full-body shudder ripped through you at the sensation - so new yet so familiar and thrilling all at once.
"God, babydoll..." he rasped, teeth grazing the juncture of your neck and shoulder. "You have no idea how many times I dreamed about getting to do this with you over the years."
You whimpered at the husky confession, tilting your head aside to bare more of your throat in blatant invitation. Bokuto took full advantage, suckling heated kisses and teasing nips down the long column until your fingers were fisted in his shirt, breath sawing harshly.
Then he was nosing aside the strap of your dress to blaze a path across your clavicle and into the soft swell where your breasts strained against the fabric. You arched into him with a soft keen, nipples tightening into aching points as he laved and tasted his fill.
"Fuck, Kou..." It took concentrated effort to form words when his wicked mouth was latching onto your arousal-flushed skin, tongue swirling tantalizing patterns. "If this is anything like those dreams of yours, how the hell did you ever keep your hands off me this long?"
He pulled back slightly, meeting your heavy-lidded stare with burning intensity. His pupils were blown wide, lips swollen and slick from your earlier kisses.
"Barely," he admitted, voice already wrecked. "It took every ounce of self-control not to shove you against the nearest surface and finally get my mouth all over you some nights."
The naked, unfiltered honesty in his tone was like a lightning bolt straight to your core. You surged up to reclaim his lips in another scorching, bruising kiss that stole your breath away. Bokuto groaned, broad palms smoothing down your sides to palm your ass in a firm, possessive grip and rock you against the rigid line of his cock straining in his slacks.
You gasped, nipping at his lips as you ground down against the delicious friction. "Take me to the backseat, I can't wait anymore."
He grunted, sucking a mark at the join of your neck and shoulder that would surely bloom into a dark bruise. The idea of wearing his claiming marks so openly only ratcheted your arousal higher.
"No can do, gorgeous," Bokuto rasped when he finally pulled away, giving your thighs an apologetic squeeze. "I've dreamed of getting my hands and mouth all over every gorgeous inch of you for far too long now. So no way in hell am I doing this in a cramped backseat, got it?"
You wanted to protest, feeling dangerously close to spontaneously combusting with how badly you needed him against you. But the raw honesty and tender promise shining in Bokuto's gaze had you melting back against the leather seat.
"Vision is you spread out for me in a big bed, all flushed and squirming while I take my sweet time unwrapping you." His voice dropped to that gravelly bedroom timbre that had goosebumps erupting everywhere. "Get to taste every sweet little inch, work you apart with my mouth until you're sobbing for me to bury myself so deep inside you'll never doubt how crazy gone I am again."
God... You swallowed hard against the renewed gush of slick arousal between your thighs, nipples visibly straining against the thin lace of your dress now. Bokuto watched you hungrily, smirk curling as he raked his gaze over your disheveled state.
"So keep that pretty little ass firmly planted in that seat, babydoll" he instructed, voice dropping into that commanding register that brooked no argument. "We're headed straight to your place so I can properly take you apart piece by delicious piece. No more waiting or holding back, yeah?"
You could only nod breathlessly and grip the seat as he threw the car into drive and pulled out from the parking lot.
No more waiting indeed. And now that this thrilling new boundary had finally been crossed...you were utterly aching to let your best friend and oldest confidant absolutely worship and ravage you in ways you'd both been denying yourself far too long.
The door had barely clicked shut behind you before Bokuto was on you again, broad palms cradling your face as he sealed your mouths in a searing, open-mouthed kiss. You whimpered against his insistent exploration, legs already feeling shaky as he walked you backwards down the hallway.
"Bedroom," he growled between searing nips at your lips. "Need you underneath me right fucking now, babydoll."
You nodded dazedly, moaning into the velvet glide of his tongue slicking against your own. The backs of your thighs hit the mattress and you allowed yourself to topple back, dragging Bokuto's solid weight down atop you with a muffled thump.
He immediately slotted one thick thigh between your parted legs, the ridge of his erection grinding deliciously against your aching core through too many layers. The rough drag of his slacks sent electric shocks zinging straight to your clit with each circling roll of his hips.
"Fuck..." Bokuto panted harshly against the heated brand of your neck, sucking fresh marks into the sensitive skin there. "Been going crazy thinkin' about getting you just like this - flushed and squirming and so turned on from my mouth alone, baby."
You keened at the blatant promise audible in his deep rasp, arching up against the delicious weight pinning you to the mattress. Bokuto growled approvingly, breaking away to hastily shuck his shirt over his head and revealing miles of tanned, defined muscle for your hungry gaze to roam over.
"That's it," he groaned, bracing on one forearm to mouth along the swell of your breasts peeking over the neckline of your dress. "You have no idea how many times I've envisioned undressing you nice and slow like this, gorgeous. Now I finally get to feast my eyes and hands on every luscious curve without any more fucking around."
True to his word, he tugged the zipper of your dress down with maddening slowness, peeling the fabric open in increments to reveal your bra and the toned planes of your abdomen. You shivered at the sheer heat and hunger in his gaze as it raked over your bared skin with scorching intensity.
"That's it, babydoll..." Bokuto encouraged with a ragged grunt, guiding you to sit up so he could peel your dress the rest of the way off in a whispery slide. "God you're so fucking gorgeous. A vision straight from the most delirious, hungry wet dreams of mine..."
You were left in just your matching black lace bra and panties, nipples peaked and straining against the delicate lace. Bokuto sucked in a sharp breath at the sight, irises nearly swallowed by pupils blown wide with naked lust.
"Stay just like that for me while I strip these last layers off, yeah?" he murmured, leaning in to ghost kiss-swollen lips along the swell of your breasts and down your sternum. "Need to be able to look my fill before I absolutely devour every bare inch and relearn your body with my mouth in a way I only dreamed of until now..."
You could only moan brokenly in response as Bokuto drew back just far enough to hook his fingers in the waistband of his slacks. With a few deft movements, he shucked the last of his clothes off as well until he knelt before you in all his naked glory - a living sculpture of sinewy, powerful muscle and undeniable masculine beauty.
Your gaze instantly dropped to where his thick, flushed cock curved up towards his abdomen - mouth watering at the prospect of finally getting your hands, lips, tongue all over him in return. Bokuto didn't miss your heated appraisal either, if his cocky grin was any indication.
"All yours, beautiful..." he growled in a voice made to rumble filthy promises against your slick heat. "Soon as I've had my proper taste first, that is. Want you falling apart around my tongue before I even think about sinking into that gorgeous body for real this time."
With that, he surged forward again, guiding you to lie back as his lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down the valley between your breasts. Your back arched on a gasping whine as he tugged the lace cups aside and swirled his tongue around one peaked, aching nipple before drawing it into the wet heat of his mouth to suckle with shameless greed.
"Oh God, Kou!" The sharp suction was a lightning bolt straight to your clit, hips jerking up against his iron grip pinning you in place. Bokuto grinned around the tightened peak, releasing it with a soft pop before turning his attention to the other side.
You were positively squirming beneath him, thighs clamping reflexively around his hips by the time he pulled away with a final lick and kiss to each pebbled peak. He chuckled low and filthy, pressing a chaste kiss between the valley of your breasts before continuing his downward exploration.
"So damn beautiful..." Bokuto murmured, hooking his thumbs into the lacy band of your panties and peeling them off in one smooth motion. You were already soaked beyond belief, pussy swollen and aching for him to touch and claim and make you come harder than you ever had in your entire life.
He hummed in appreciation at the sight, settling his shoulders between your quivering thighs and gripping the back of each in a firm, implacable hold. Before you could utter a single sound, Bokuto ducked down and buried his face between your legs, the first long swipe of his tongue against your dripping slit eliciting a shattered, broken keen from your chest.
"Fuck!" The filthy curse ripped itself from your throat, head tossed back against the pillows as your thighs instinctively tried to clamp around his ears. Bokuto was having none of it, though - grip unrelenting as he held you pinned in place with your legs spread wide for his ravenous assault.
His tongue licked into you in a hot, unyielding glide that had you writhing and clawing at the sheets. The first flick of that wickedly talented appendage against your aching clit had your hips bucking sharply, but Bokuto's hold was absolute. All you could do was submit to his mouth's determined, skillful exploration of every sensitive dip and crevice, the molten heat building low in your belly cresting impossibly higher.
"Shit, Kou..." You choked out, the first flutters of orgasm already tightening your lower belly. Bokuto growled wordlessly against you, latching onto your clit and suckling hard enough to send you hurtling towards the edge with a strangled cry.
You were right there, poised on the knife's edge and ready to fall into ecstasy at the first nudge of his fingers filling your clenching channel. But before the first waves of release could crash over you, Bokuto released his hold on your throbbing bundle of nerves and eased away with a parting lick that left you sobbing.
"Kou, please! Please, I'm so fucking close, I need -" You couldn't even finish the sentence, reduced to a trembling, quivering mess beneath the scorching heat of his gaze as he stared down at you from between your thighs.
"I know, babydoll," he assured in a husky rasp, calloused fingers rubbing soothing circles against the delicate skin of your inner thighs. "But I've got every intention of making you fall apart so many times tonight that you'll be feeling the aftereffects for days. So no need to rush the first time, yeah?"
He punctuated the filthy promise with a languid lap from slit to clit, tongue curling against the pulsing bud until you were squirming once more. Then, without further preamble, Bokuto buried his face between your thighs with an utterly ravenous growl, spearing his tongue inside you in a deep, relentless thrust that had you seeing stars.
You writhed beneath his unyielding hold, completely helpless to his ministrations as he fucked you with his tongue and laved sloppy kisses and teasing flicks against your swollen clit. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire, the pressure building low in your gut until you were absolutely certain it would combust at any moment.
Your entire body felt like a taut wire, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with each plunge of his wickedly talented tongue. Bokuto growled against you, the vibrations reverberating through your slick folds and straight to the aching, throbbing bud at their apex.
"I - oh fuck, Kou!" You could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence with the way his mouth was driving you relentlessly towards the precipice of release. "Please, baby, I need you to -"
You couldn't even finish the plea before he was latching his lips around your clit, sucking hard enough to send you toppling over the edge with a strangled, gasping cry. Bokuto didn't relent - not even as he tongued against the throbbing bundle and lapped up every gush of fresh arousal coating your soaked inner walls.
Stars exploded behind your tightly shut eyes, the waves of ecstasy rippling through your quivering limbs until you were certain you'd melt right into the mattress. But Bokuto was relentless - the insistent pressure of his mouth not easing up for even a second as he carried you straight through the aftershocks and up the next cresting wave with a single-minded determination to reduce you utterly boneless and mindless.
By the time the sensation was overwhelming and you managed to tug weakly at his hair, the next release slammed through you like a freight train. The second orgasm was even more intense than the first, leaving you a shuddering, gasping heap as Bokuto finally withdrew and pressed a parting kiss to the sensitive flesh.
He hummed in satisfaction, the vibration thrumming through your hypersensitive core and drawing a shuddering whimper. "So fucking perfect for me, babydoll...you have no idea how long I've been wanting to watch you fall apart just like that on my tongue. Gonna spend the rest of the night taking my sweet time getting you off in every way possible, you hear?"
The gravel-laced promise had your inner walls clenching weakly, pussy already aching for more despite the two intense releases in quick succession. Bokuto grinned, pressing another soft kiss against your swollen, throbbing clit before easing away and crawling up your still-trembling body.
You immediately reached for him, fumbling weakly with his jaw and neck until his lips sealed over yours. The first brush of his mouth was electric, tasting of the musky sweetness of your release as his tongue delved between your lips to reclaim every corner. You moaned, wrapping yourself around his broad, powerful form with a desperation you'd never felt before.
"Want to touch you," you managed to gasp out when he finally pulled back with a husky groan, pupils blown wide with naked hunger. "Need to feel you against me, baby."
Bokuto grinned, dipping down for another searing kiss before obliging. You were a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs, but neither of you cared as he settled his weight atop you. His cock throbbed against your aching, throbbing core, the slick, rigid heat of it rubbing against your slick, swollen flesh in the most delicious friction.
You both groaned in unison at the sensation, bodies slotting together perfectly. Bokuto ducked in to kiss you senseless again, teeth tugging on your bottom lip and tongue plunging past the seam to lick and stroke against yours. His thick, muscular frame felt like a shelter above you, pinning you in place and shielding you from everything but him.
"You have no idea how long I've thought about this moment, gorgeous." He ground down against your sopping slit, the tip of his cock brushing teasingly against your swollen, throbbing clit. The jolt of electricity nearly had you coming right then and there, thighs clenching around his waist.
"I've fantasized about getting to taste you, make love to you, hear you screaming my name until you lose your voice." Bokuto's words were punctuated by the slow, torturous roll of his hips. Each thrust brought his rigid shaft to slide along the drenched cleft of your pussy, the tip teasing your entrance with each pass.
"You're so fucking beautiful when you come apart, babydoll," he growled, lips ghosting across the shell of your ear. "Just the sexiest thing I've ever laid eyes on. And now I get to see it over and over again, every day from here on out. Fuck, I'm the luckiest man alive."
His words had a fresh surge of arousal pulsing through you, the need to have him filling and stretching and claiming your body beyond anything else. Bokuto groaned as you clenched around nothing, a fresh bead of precum smearing against your dripping folds.
"Kou," you moaned, nails digging into the taut flex of his shoulders as his cock slid through your soaked core once more. "I need you. Inside. Right. Fucking. Now."
He smirked, sealing your mouths together in a filthy, bruising kiss that made you see stars. Then he was reaching between your bodies to angle his cock, the tip kissing your entrance. The anticipation was a physical ache, but still Bokuto held steady - staring down at you with that molten intensity.
"I love you," he breathed, voice thick with emotion. You swallowed hard, a fresh wave of affection and desire and lust swamping you as his gaze pierced straight to your soul. "I've loved you for years, babydoll. And I intend on making you mine, in every way possible."
You nodded breathlessly, wrapping yourself around him as much as humanly possible. Bokuto dipped his head down, pressing a searing kiss to your temple as he began to sink inside with a single, powerful thrust.
Both of you moaned at the sensation, bodies locking together perfectly as his cock sank to the hilt inside your sopping, clenching heat. You'd never felt more full in your entire life - stretched and aching around him in the most delicious way.
Bokuto didn't give you any time to adjust before pulling out and sinking back into the wet clutch of your walls, the angle so perfect it was like he was made to fit you. His lips captured yours in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss, his next thrust punching a ragged cry from your lungs.
You clutched at his broad shoulders, the muscles bunching and flexing beneath his golden skin with each powerful snap of his hips. Bokuto was relentless, driving into you with a single-minded focus that sent shocks of ecstasy jolting through your core with every brush against the spongy bundle of nerves inside.
It didn't take long for your climax to build, the molten heat pooling low in your gut. You were reduced to a whimpering, writhing mess beneath his iron-willed determination to claim and wreck and own you. The pleasure was almost too much, and when Bokuto dropped his hand to thumb rough circles against your clit, you were utterly undone.
You sobbed, the dam of pleasure cresting and crashing through your trembling form. Bokuto didn't let up though, not even when the intensity was on the verge of becoming overwhelming. His thumb never stopped the firm, steady pace, drawing you higher and higher until your entire body was alight with pleasure.
"You have no idea how beautiful you look right now, babydoll," Bokuto growled in a voice that was pure sex and sin and everything in between. "Falling apart and coming around my cock like this is the best goddamn view in the world. And now I get to have it all the time, every day for the rest of our lives."
You nodded frantically, unable to even formulate a response as he continued to grind and rut against your tender, swollen core. Another release was imminent, and he knew it too - the pace of his thumb ratcheting up until the pressure was white hot and ready to combust at any moment.
Bokuto sealed his lips over yours, swallowing down your cry as the final release slammed through you. Your orgasm was even more powerful than the others, leaving you breathless and reeling and feeling completely wrecked. Bokuto was still rocking into you, chasing his own high now, and it wasn't long before he was following right behind you with a roar and a flood of warmth against your still-pulsing inner walls.
"Fuck!" he snarled, pumping into you with short, hard thrusts. His cock twitched, the thick length twitching and throbbing within your clenching depths. You felt the warm gush of his release coating you from the inside, clinging to your gummywalls as he buried himself as deep as humanly possible.
Aftershocks trembled through you both, and Bokuto slumped atop you in a sweaty, tangled heap. You welcomed his weight, arms wrapping around his neck and tangling in the damp strands of his silver hair. Neither of you spoke for several long moments, content to bask in the afterglow and each other's presence.
"So..." Bokuto murmured eventually, rolling the two of you so he could cradle you against his chest. You looked up to meet his amber gaze, noting the satisfied, self-satisfied grin. "Think you'll be ready for round two soon?"
You blinked, then arched a single brow in an incredulous expression. "Seriously? Already?"
He chuckled, the rumble vibrating against your cheek where it rested above his heart. "Well yeah. We've got years of sexual frustration to make up for, don't we? So we should really get started on that."
You huffed out a laugh, swatting playfully at his chest. "Fine, you ridiculous man. But we're gonna have to take a shower and hydrate first. I need to have my strength up if we're gonna do this properly."
Bokuto smirked, one large palm splaying across the bare swell of your ass. "Well, I suppose we can get some food and water in us. Then maybe round two can involve that shower, eh?"
You snorted, the sound trailing off into a squeal as he rolled you both off the mattress and carried you to the bathroom bridal-style. Bokuto was already sporting an impressive semi, and when you glanced down, the sight was enough to make your pussy throb with renewed need.
"Well then," you managed, licking suddenly dry lips as Bokuto set you down in front of the mirror and caged you against the counter. "I guess round two is starting early then, huh?"
His grin was positively predatory, and when his teeth latched onto the curve of your neck, you gasped in a mixture of pleasure and pain. His voice was a dark rumble, a promise that you felt straight to your core.
"That's the idea, babydoll."
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