iwa glazer

before you read:

‘saiki telepathically communicating with reader.’

‘reader thinking or interacting with saiki through thoughts.’

“saiki talking without moving his mouth.”

“saiki talking using his mouth.”

if you use the above format of speech in your fanfic, please credit as I was the first to come with it, thank you <3

author's notes: this post is a rewrite from my friends to lovers series that I first posted back in 2020, the relaunch you've been waiting for is finally here! it's still pretty much the same with a few changes here and there, hope you all enjoy <3

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Ever since you could remember, the way the world worked didn't make sense. Your fragile child brain, not yet fully developed, was incapable of understanding that the very universe was shifting before you, at the hands of certain psychic no less.

You were 4 when you realised that other's wounds would go away quickly. Scrapes, bumps, cuts, you name it, they would heal almost instantaneously. You didn't possess such an ability, it seemed. All the doctors were curious as to why you would come to the hospital with bruises and wounds since it was unusual that, unlike everyone else, your injuries wouldn't heal after a day. Looking at the MRIs and Ex-rays on the desk as the adults talked, you pondered the same thing.

You chalked it up to you being weaker than others, despite the lingering at the back of your mind that something was terribly wrong. Then again, it was better to stay quiet than address the questions from said adults, questions you didn’t yet have concrete answers to.

You were 5 when you started sprouting neon green hair at the roots, until a few weeks later— the tone began returning to its natural colour. You grew out the ugly patch of lime until you could chop it off. The worst of it was the fact that no one said anything about changing hair colour practically overnight. It didn't sit right with you. Out of all the classmates in your elementary school, you were the only one with what others considered as abnormal coloured hair— and to top it off, you were sure you were the normal one.

That wasn't all that seemed to be amiss. Individuals could knock others unconscious with just a chop to the neck, clothes could be ripped off while the crotch remained covered, and tiny people could be incredibly strong. None of these applied to you; you couldn't do any of it— the reason still a mystery. 

Despite being so young, how was it possible for you to notice these things? Well, it was as simple as— every time it felt like a new phenomenon would occur, a splitting headache would hit you. As a child, your body was unable to handle the strain of whatever was happening with the world, and you would develop a fever as a result. It would leave you bedridden for a week, but as you grew, you found it became easier to handle.

You would have ignored all the weird things happening around you— wouldn't have found it hard not to pay any attention to the unusual phenomena. However, as you aged, it became harder to brush under the rug.

You lived life trying your best not to think of the strange occurrences until your 2nd year of high school. A week before you were about to start afresh as a 3rd year, your family asked if you were excited for your second year at school. You hadn't thought much of it, assuming that they had gotten confused. You didn't bother correcting them and continued with your life as usual. 

That was until you resumed classes, only to discover that you were still in your second year of high school. 

You would have disputed it with the teachers because you were sure you passed the year with flying colours, but you weren't the only one. Your entire class, no— the whole year group itself, were repeating their year again. Not to mention, there were no new first years. That was when you decided things weren't okay. The world was shifting, bending in impossible ways, defying the laws of nature itself, and you were the only one who noticed.

What was more unfortunate was the fact that you couldn't tell anyone. Couldn't breathe a word of your troubles to your friends, fear of word getting around forcing your lips shut. Worst-case scenario— you would be ostracised by your classmates, effectively sentencing yourself to social death and becoming the school's pariah or sent to a mental institute. No one saw the change or acknowledged the difference— you were alone in your findings, so you kept quiet.

Then, answers came to you in the summer holidays after the repeat of your first year, in the form of an old lady at a stall offering tarot card readings. Personally, you didn't believe in the supernatural or magicians and the like. Still, she was persistent, a true salesman at heart, so to speak. Convinced that you were getting scammed, you tried to refuse, but she had already pulled you into the chair behind her stall.

That was how you found out you were immune when it came to the supernatural. The old lady ignored your protests of how you had no money and tried to see into your future, to reveal to you what lay ahead of you, only for her to tell you she couldn't.

After heavy silence and serious contemplation on her side, followed by a barrage of questions— she theorised that you were blocking her from using her abilities on you. The old woman called it 'natural immunity and the ability to nullify someone's powers'. You weren't impressed, but it did feel like her words held some truth as you caught sight of the bright yellow hair under her hood.

That was when you connected the dots since it explained why you were the only one who noticed the changes in the world. You were immune to the phenomenon going on around you. That caused you to wonder who on earth had been messing with the timeline and warping everyone's perception of the world. You weren’t sure you were comfortable with knowing there was a human alive capable of that.

You had asked the old lady if someone could turn back time on a global scale since that seemed to be the only explanation for the year repeating itself. She had brushed it off, laughing at the thought. She had said that if it were possible, it would have to be someone with unimaginable power. The old woman was convinced no human on earth could possess the ability to pull a stunt like that off, muttering something about how 'everyone would have noticed'.

You had left the conversation at that, giving up on trying to make her understand. If you were being honest, you were more curious to learn about your own talents. The old lady was the one who taught you how to manually turn off your immunity when others used their powers on you. "Visualise a broken string between you and me. Then, try to will it to connect."

Closing your eyes, you followed the shady lady's instructions and found that it took an immense amount of your energy to do so. You ended up with a migraine but discovered that she could use her fortune-telling powers on you after the fact.

The old lady had been pleased with the results as she put her cards away, telling you she had just confirmed a sneaking suspicion she had about you. The two of you realised that you could, in fact, turn off your ability (if you could even call it that) when you put enough effort into it.

After your conversation with her, you felt like at least one of your questions had been answered somewhat, but you refused to pay up after she made grabby hands at you. You simply turned on your heels and left, telling her if she was that good at reading the future like she claimed— she would have known you forgot your wallet at home. She had thrown a fit as you walked off, and you had felt bad somewhat, but it's not like you ever wanted the reading to begin with.

You wondered if you could stop your immunity to the weird phenomena around you; ignorance was bliss after all— maybe then you wouldn't be burdened with the knowledge that someone was trying to play some sort of messed up game of chess with the timeline. Then again— what was the point in pondering when you knew you weren't going to try and be the main character and solve the mystery? You'd read enough fanfic to know where that would lead. Major character death with spoilers across the tags; luckily, you had no interest in turning the genre into horror.

The time on earth turned back three times, or that's what you concluded. You weren't sure about the exact number because you stopped counting after the second time you repeated your year. Repeating the year meant that days blended into each other, and you stopped trying to keep track and make sense of it all.

After redoing the academic year three times in total— you assumed, you finally decided enough was enough. You couldn't handle spending another second in the same classroom, with the same people, the same teachers and the same lessons. It drove you insane, so you begged your family to let you transfer. Trying to convince them took a long time, but they finally gave in to your request.

A month before your second year, again, your family moved to a new neighbourhood. You were enrolled at PK Academy, which meant you would start the upcoming school year.

The downside? Free-mixing. The all-girls school was great since there was no dating drama, and mostly everyone in your year just put their head down to study. The horror stories you had heard so far of boys sneaking cameras into the girl's bathroom in other institutions made it hard to see the upside, considering the boys of today might end up being the perverts of tomorrow. Then again, you didn't have a choice— after all that begging, even if you changed your mind, your application form for your new school and dismissal from your old school meant you had to go.

You didn't mind that you had to commute to the school you currently went to before the holidays hit, satisfied that instead of staring up at the ceiling and still unintentionally wondering 'Who done it', you were worried about getting up in time in the morning.

You held onto the fuzzy feeling in your stomach,

see— even your gut was telling you this was one of your finer decisions, one you wouldn't come to regret.

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Finding your way to your new high school wasn't too hard when you had the curse and blessing that was your phone. When the direction on your maps changed for the 6th time, telling you to go back the way you came— you gave up, instead opting to tail a group of girls who wore the uniform that matched yours in hopes of not getting lost and finding potential shortcuts, deciding that they would know the way since they went to the same school.

You made it to PK Academy with little to no trouble, using your hands to smooth your shirt down and make yourself look more presentable before you stepped past the gate. Students walked into the school building, chatting amongst themselves. You followed suit, and you wouldn't deny the small skip to your step as excitement bubbled in your veins.

All was good— until it wasn't.

As soon as you stepped past the gate after successfully passing uniform inspection, which you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for, a wave of dizziness hit you, vision fuzzing as you caught sight of something pink out the corner of your eye. You felt nauseous, finding it hard to stay upright. You staggered, soon falling to your knees.

It was all going so well, too...

The rough granite coating the ground scraped your palms, but the searing pain you felt in your head stopped you from processing it. It was like someone had pressed a hot iron to your skull, like gravity was working against you to pin you to the ground— or was gravity working rather too effectively? It didn't matter; now was not the time to be thinking about that!

You heard a teacher shout, the one in a gym tracksuit who had been at the front gates with a ruler in hand, making sure students weren't dressed like delinquents. Your vision swam as you tried to look up at the teacher who seemed to be talking to you. Ringing filled your ears, and you winced at the sound. What on earth was happening to you?

You were panting, finding it hard to hear what the teacher was asking of you. The red of his tracksuit hurt your eyes. "—dent! Can... —walk?" Trying to understand what he was saying became increasingly difficult as you squinted your eyes at him.

You tried to focus on his voice, succeeding after putting in enough effort. "Student! Can you walk?!" You shook your head, no— did it look like you could?! You clutched the strap of your school bag as tightly as you could to try and ground yourself.

You furrowed your eyebrows as another wave of nausea hit you, although not as strong as the last. You felt the need to spill the breakfast you had eaten that morning, all over the floor and maybe some on the teacher's pristine tracksuit. All you could think about was how to ease the pain. Would you have to wait it out, or would you pass out before then? You wanted to curl up on the floor, debating it for a hot minute as you started losing strength in your arm.

You didn't get the chance to, feeling the ground shift beneath you as you were picked up. In no time, you were rushed to what you assumed was the nurse's office. The teacher must have decided to escort you to a somewhat safer place, a gesture you probably should have thanked him for. The only problem was— the pain appeared to worsen the deeper you entered the school building. He should have left you outside.

"Wait here. I'll go find the nurse," The teacher who had escorted you, placed you down on a bed before fetching an ice pack from the freezer. Bold of him to assume you were in any condition to move— but it's not like you were about to say that out loud. "Take this for now." He put the ice pack against your forehead, his arm dropping back to his side when you brought your hand up to hold it.

With that, he took off down the hallway. You would have thanked the teacher for all his help if not for the daze you were in. At least the ringing in your ears had subsided. The headache, however, had become impossible to ignore. You were grateful for the ice pack; its cold helped dull the migraine somewhat.

Great— first day at your new school and you managed to mess it up. You were no doubt missing out on the entrance ceremony— the principal's speech— fantastic! As if things couldn't get better! What had caused you to nearly faint, to begin with? The only time you had felt like this was when weird phenomena would occur, when the way the world worked changed, and you were the only one left to notice. Was there some sort of supernatural activity going on in this school that had caused such a severe reaction in you?

You decided you would try to figure it out later; you were in no shape to play Sherlock. First, you had to deal with the fatigue and nausea. For now, you'd have to focus on getting better— if your condition didn't improve, you'd go home. With a rough plan in mind, at least you had a bit of mental clarity.

Breathing through your nose, you turned to your side to ease the pain you were feeling. You hadn't realised until then that the curtain next to the bed you were on had been pulled, blocking the sight of the door that led to the room. You assumed the teacher had done that, probably to give you some privacy.

Exhaling deeply, you closed your eyes, trying to relax. That proved challenging to do when the peace was disrupted, not even seconds later. You heard a voice coming from afar and ignored it, trying your best to overcome the feeling of nausea that hit you again. Was your condition worsening?

"Huh, is the nurse dead too? That's weird... Guess I'll have to do mouth-to-mouth on you, myself." If you had been in your right mind, you would have laughed, but whoever was speaking just managed to add to your frustrations instead. You furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes still closed. Couldn't these strangers be more considerate so as to not disturb someone who was trying to rest?! Then again, they probably didn't know you were there, so you'd give them the benefit of the doubt.

Your eyes snapped open when you felt the bed shake. Your first thought was earthquake until you saw the curtain move as if someone was right next to it on the other side. If you had to guess, someone had probably slammed into it. You registered the sound of an audible grunt, assuming it was most likely from the stranger speaking before, though you couldn't be sure with the curtain still drawn. Had they fallen, or had someone pushed them?

The noise of water running filled the room. "I don't need mouth-to-mouth, you stupid idiot!" Whoever spoke started to gargle their mouth straight after. You clenched your jaw. Whoever these people were, they were aggravating your headache— and by extension, you "You're better? Well, that's nice to see." Why were they still talking?!

Some luck you had— maybe staying at the nurse's office wasn't a good idea after all. In that moment you wished you had just curled up near the school entrance until an ambulance came to your rescue. "Of course, I'm better! I was faking! Was it worth it, though? Since I got kissed by you!" Was this some backward BL you had been dragged into? You were sure you’d read enough fanfiction to know where this was going... If these people had nothing better to do, you wondered why they couldn't just leave.

You adjusted the ice pack on your head, biting your cheek to stop yourself from getting annoyed further. It didn't work— the mouth gargling continued. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I'm sad too... You were my first kiss." Whoever he was, he whispered the last part as if he was bashful. In any case, you weren't entirely sure that was the best way to go about consoling someone.

You weren't the type to judge over sexual preferences, but why couldn’t they just elope and get married already? Couldn’t they choose a different room to fall over each other and leave you to rest? You rolled your eyes as you gazed up at the ceiling, wondering when they would stop talking and go back to their classes. "Now, everyone's gonna think Nendou and I are in love..."

You nearly snorted at the comment, but not because you found it funny. Typical high school boys with their typical shenanigans. You wished you had stayed home— this was not worth it. No longer did you want to be subjected to listening to either of them go on. You heard someone shuffle angrily across the room. "Hey, you better not tell anyone my fainting spell was a fake! ...Don't tell anyone!"

You decided that enough was enough. To hell with your first day at a new school and good first impressions. You were either going to get those two to leave— or leave yourself and just go home. Whichever was easier in your condition. You sat up and pulled back the curtain roughly, only to realise that there were three people in the room, not two. That's weird; you swore only the two were talking amongst themselves.

The room fell silent as all three boys looked at you in surprise. The one you assumed had slammed into the bed you were resting on, who was still on the floor, had... unique hair. Fashion choice? His mohawk was dyed blonde, while the rest of his hair was weirdly shaved. One of them had referred to him as 'Nendou', that you were sure of.

On closer inspection, you realised he had a scar that ran down his left eye and the most defined butt-chin you had ever seen. It hurt your eyes just to look at him— that's how unpleasant his face was. He resembled a delinquent, but his mannerisms said otherwise. The one you assumed had been faking his sick had green hair and fish-like lips. Both of them were... unsightly, to say the least, and you swore just witnessing them was making you feel even worse.

Your eyes shifted to the one who hadn't talked once the entire time, and the first thing you noticed was his pink hair. Well, that was a new shade of colour you had yet to see. He wore green glasses and antennas on his head. He was the only one who looked marginally attractive, a thought you shoved down the minute you registered it. You wondered how he had managed to get past uniform inspection.

The boy with pink hair was the one who looked the most shocked to see you, his face paling at the sight of you kneeling on the nurse's bed. It was because he hadn't been able to detect you with his powers, a fact still unbeknownst to you.

They continued to stare at you, and you opened your mouth to speak, still holding your icepack against your forehead. "Can you please keep it down? I'm trying to rest—" You didn't get a chance to finish what you were saying, falling silent as you noticed the teacher who rescued you from before standing at the entrance of the nurse's office with a hand on the wall. Said wall cracked as his hold tightened around it, the veins on his forehead popping out in anger.

"I heard it all!" You watched the concrete of the wall around his palm crumble slightly as he shouted, debris falling to the floor. "Matsuzaki!" The green-haired boy spoke first, shocked to see the teacher standing at the door. At least you knew the name of your saviour. "So your fainting was a con job, huh?" The teacher truly was a force to be reckoned with; he looked scary as he— wait, was he growing in size? He nearly towered over the green-haired boy in front of him.

"That's not what happened, sir! It's his fault. He forced me to collapse so he could skip out on the principal's speech, and my sickness is actually a ruse!" The green-haired boy pointed a finger at Nendou before bursting into tears as he cried into his arm. Matsuzaki put a hand on the boy's shoulder to console him before he furiously turned to Nendou.

You watched the scene unfold with a blank face. You should've just pretended to be asleep— maybe then you wouldn't have been subjected to witness such an exchange take place. Was it too late to get back into the bed and pull the covers over yourself? Yes, yes it was.

"Nendou, is that all true?!" So, you were right, that was his name! At least your observation skills weren't failing short because of the migraine. It wasn't his fault, but the green-haired boy had done a pretty good job at acting like it was. He had expertly made up lies to avoid getting into trouble, letting Nendou take the fall for him instead.

Nendou didn't even get a chance to retaliate as Matsuzaki took notice of the pink-haired boy to his right. "Huh? Saiki, what are you doing here?" Come to think of it, you found it weird that the guy had yet to say a word. Was he mute? So, Saiki was his name. The one with antennas only acknowledged Matsuzaki but didn't open his mouth to speak.

Of course, Saiki did reply, but he did so telepathically. Your immunity to the supernatural, without you knowing it, blocked out his ability, which is why you thought he hadn't said anything, even though he had been talking to the others since the moment he had entered the nurse's office.

"Takahashi, is he also a part of this?"  Matsuzaki asked the green-haired boy, who you now knew to call Takahashi. Matsuzaki pointed a finger at Saiki, looking at fish lips with an expectant gaze. Takahashi stopped crying abruptly, lowering his arm slightly as he opened his mouth to answer. "Who? Yeah, sure." How was the teacher believing these lies?! You had to question his credibility. You watched Saiki's expression darken at the accusation. This whole situation was getting more and more absurd.

"That's it! I want you both in my office!" How had the teacher, of all people, not realised that Takahashi was faking this entire thing and making up elaborate lies to avoid getting into trouble? And why was the whole exchange going so fast?

At this rate, you were going to get whiplash with how quickly you were looking between the four. At least your headache had died down slightly, just enough for you to think clearly. So long as you didn't get dragged into this whole mess, you'd be just fine. Hah, you wanted to leave.

"Hold on a sec, teach. His feigning is real. Didn't you hear him just say it? Root sickness." Nendou said it so ominously— you nearly believed him. That lasted for a second until you gazed up at the boy in sheer disbelief. Was it possible to be this idiotic? How could someone even be capable of mistaking ruse for roots?

You weren't the only one who thought so, as the other three in the room looked at Nendou in shock and awe. You were sure they felt the same— Nendou was... slow, to say the least. "What? Isn't that right?" Nendou was confident he was correct and— were those stars dancing around him... and, why was he drooling? You would laugh, but you were still trying to process whatever just took place.

"What in the holy heck? What's root sickness— root sickness is a deadly virus that infects the victim through the follicles. Ohh, that one." Halfway through Matsuzaki trying to understand why Nendou brought up such an illness, he started to think out loud before coming to the conclusion that Nendou was right.

Ah.

This whole situation was outrageous! How had you managed to witness such incompetency from a teacher? At least he was reliable in the sense that he cared. You couldn't think too badly of Matsuzaki as he was the one who had gone through the trouble of bringing you to the nurse's office when you fell. He was still as gullible as they come, though.

"Let's take your temperature to see if you have a fever. That's what my mom does for me." Could you leave yet? No one would say anything if you just walked out, right? You weren't too keen on taking a risk, so you decided to stay put for the time being and hope your existence would be background noise. "Are you a new student?" You spoke too soon, Matsuzaki had noticed you.

You stood up from your seat on the bed, staggering slightly as you felt black spots cloud your vision. Maybe getting up abruptly wasn't a good idea. You sighed, wondering what had become of your luck, "Yes, I'm new. This is my first day here." Matsuzaki took note of your confirmation, nodding to himself as he put a hand to his chin. "Do you have root sickness too?"

Not this root sickness talk again— of course you didn't because a disease like that didn't exist. There was no known medical condition dubbed 'root sickness', to begin with. Good luck convincing Matsuzaki of that fact, though. You shook your head, no. "I have a headache, not a fever. I'll be fine if I get some rest." Were you the only one who saw reason in this room? Probably. You did know one thing, and that was that you weren't going to be fooled into believing that you had a made-up illness; you just felt nauseous.

Though the feeling had dimmed, you still wanted to go home to recover. "Is it alright if I take sick leave today? I don't think I'm well enough to stay here." Matsuzaki agreed, muttering how he'd let your homeroom teacher know since he'd already seen you fall like a sack of potatoes near the school's front gates. You exhaled in relief at that, deciding then that you liked this teacher; after all— he was cool.

Matsuzaki then proceeded to get a thermometer from one of the drawers in the room to check Takahashi's temperature. All the while, the boy in question sat at a bench in the corner of the room with one sleeve of his uniform jacket taken off. He was sweating profusely, no doubt because he had been faking this entire time and was about to be caught. Serves him right, you thought to yourself, Takahashi had dug his own grave. Was now a good time to ask for directions?

"98.2 Celcius... Go call an ambulance now!" You quickly turned on your feet to look at Matsuzaki. How was that possible?! That was 40 Celcius too high! The average body temperature for a human was 37! You wondered if Takahashi really did have root sickness. You quickly got rid of the thought, that wasn't possible. Maybe he just had a high fever? No, that didn't make sense either. You let the thought go when you felt your headache return with vengeance.

The ambulance came in record time, with EMTs carrying Takahashi out on a gurney to be loaded into the van with Nendou shouting words of encouragement after him. You watched from the window in the nurse's office, shaking your head. Today had been a disaster. You decided you had had enough of this school for now, turning on your heel so you could head home.

The only other person in the room besides you was Saiki. Surely, he would know the way out of this place, right? You weren't familiar with the layout and didn't feel like getting lost trying to find the main entrance. There was no harm in asking, so why not?

"Do you know how I can get out of here? I'm not sure how since I'm new." Saiki turned to you, his blank face, which was devoid of all emotion, making it hard to read him. This entire time not once had you seen a significant change in his expression. Was he even human?

Silence followed, and the man had the nerve to raise an eyebrow at you. You mirrored his expression, leaning your head forward ever so slightly, expecting an answer. "Hello? Do you know where the main entrance is?" You didn't miss the look of shock that crossed his face. Had Saiki actually been mute like you first assumed? Oh no, how insensitive of you!

Before you could splutter out an apology, he opened his mouth to speak. "First stairs to your left. If you take them all the way down to the ground floor, you'll reach the shoe lockers. That's the way out." You weren't sure what you expected him to sound like, but it certainly wasn't that. Honey— that was the only word that came to mind when you thought of how to describe it. Rich, and smooth, not too deep, but very appealing. You decided you liked the sound of his voice, if nothing else.

You nodded your head, thanking him before you made your move to leave the room. It hadn't even been an hour since you had come to PK Academy, and still, everything had gone downhill the moment you stepped through those blasted gates. You rubbed at your forehead in mild frustration, already missing the icepack you had left in the nurse's office.

Nendou passed you in the hall, moving to walk into the room you had just emerged from. You turned, curious as to why he was going back and that was your downfall. You peeked into the room, and that's when you saw it. Past Nendou's form, which was slightly obstructing your vision, stood Saiki with a thermometer in hand. The same one Matsuzaki had used on Takahashi. 

Out of nowhere, it caught on fire in Saiki's palm, and the guy had the nerve to casually crush it in his hand as if the heat didn't affect him. Your body moved before you could think, and you turned to hide. The wall next to the door to the office was enough to keep you from being spotted.

You took note of your heart speeding up in your chest, feeling as though you had seen something you shouldn't have. It hadn't been an illusion. What you had witnessed was not as your imagination. Saiki had set the thermometer on fire with his mind! There was no other explanation. He could use pyrokinesis, the ability to manipulate heat.

This whole situation and the events that took place had set you on edge. Normally, you would have let curiosity get the better of you, which would have led you to confront Saiki about what you had seen, but this time it was different— as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat, and you decided this time satisfaction might not be enough to bring it back. Though you weren't a stranger to the supernatural, you had no interest in becoming 'buddy-buddy' with Saiki or even talking to him in the future, for that matter.

You were already surrounded by strange occurrences, and adding to the list of people you knew who could do things others couldn't, didn't sound appealing at all. Better to just leave it. The last thing you wanted was to get involved with someone like him.

Chances were, you wouldn't run into Saiki. The school was big, and there was no way you would be so unlucky as to end up in the same class as him. With that, you began to walk, following the directions you had received earlier so you could get to the main entrance of the school building.

That was how your first meeting with Saiki Kusuo had gone.

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You had to have the worst luck on earth— surely, you did something to throw your karma out of balance because there was no other way of explaining your predicament. Fate, maybe? Everything happens for a reason, after all. Once you attended your classes for the first time, you discovered you were, in fact, in the same class as the pyrokinetic boy from the day before.

You sighed as you laid down on your bed, resting your eyes as you willed yourself to change out of your uniform. You took the time to think back to the events of the past few days.

Your first official day at PK Academy had been just as eventful as the day you went home early. When you entered the class, the first person who caught your attention was the pink-haired boy with antennas, Saiki.

You had frozen mid-step as soon as you realised you were in the same class as him. What had snapped you out of your thoughts was the home-room teacher announcing that you were the new transfer student. After introducing yourself, you took a seat, coincidentally ending up right behind the person you wanted to avoid most.

The school day went on, and you tried to make the best of your situation. Just because you were in the same class didn’t mean you would interact with each other. Saiki didn’t look like the talkative type either. The rest of the morning was spent trying to calm your nerves.

It was reasonably quiet until the first break.

As soon as the teacher left, you pulled out your phone and plugged in your earphones to tune the world out. You had ignored everyone around you, grateful for the fact that no one had come to bother your peace. Quietly sitting at your desk, you decided to do homework because you had time and knew you wouldn’t do it when you got home.

That was until the class started discussing a snake on the loose after it escaped the zoo, and you overheard. Shame on you for not increasing the volume from the start. A student with light blue hair spoke up immediately, claiming that an evil organisation called 'Dark Reunion’ was behind it.

Ah, you had heard of this before, an awful condition where an individual was convinced they had otherwordly powers, like a girl from your last school who claimed she saw ghosts. Then again, who were you to judge when you were probably every bit as delusional as he was? Was it bad that you thought you could take that snake down with ease? Yes, yes, it was.

You couldn’t bring yourself to listen in closely as he went on with his fantasies. Situations like that usually didn’t end well— and you had been correct. Your classmates had made fun of the strange boy until he left the room when they found out the snake was ordinary and a bunch of 4-year-olds had killed it, his voice trembling as he declared that he had tried to warn them. Your guess was that he was going to the bathroom to cry. Wow, high school kids were ruthless.

Saiki left shortly after, to your relief, and that was when all hell broke loose. The class broke out into screams. When you realised it was over a snake that had somehow gotten into the room, you quickly jumped on top of your desk, accidentally pushing off your books and pens in your haste.

The class collectively lost their minds. The students had exclaimed that someone should get the teacher, but no one moved to do so as the snake blocked the door. Nendou, the one from the nurse’s office who was also in your class, appeared out of nowhere and started to make fun of everyone for being scared. You weren’t concerned with his smack talk, too busy staring at his crotch and not for the conventional reason. The snake had latched itself onto Nendou’s family jewels. Poor guy.

Long story short, Nendou got bitten in the balls by the reptile and proceeded to pass out on the floor. The light blue-haired boy from before with the 'Chuunibyu Complex’ returned and tried to protect the class from the snake, willingly putting himself in danger when the snake launched itself at a girl whose face you probably wouldn’t remember in a week. What a sweetheart— with that, you sent Kaidou your blessings, convinced that he was going to meet his end.

Your first official day, and there was already gonna be a death. What had you done to ask for this? Then it happened, he yelled 'Judgement Knights of Thunder!’ and then there was light— well, lightning. It appeared mysteriously, and music seemingly started playing out of nowhere. 'JUDGMENT KNIGHTS OF— JUDGMENT KNIGHTS OF THUNDER!’

For a second, you had wondered if the author was breaking the fourth wall to talk to you. Had your time finally come? Had the day arrived when a divine power would smite you off this mortal coil? That didn’t seem to be the case— no, it was just Kaidou’s theme song playing. 

Even after coming home from school, you had yet to get the tune out of your head. What could you say? The song was catchy.

You had figured that Kaidou also had otherwordly abilities. That meant he had been telling the truth when he claimed to have special powers. A pyrokinetic user and a guy who could control lightning, both of them were in your class. What were the chances?

That wasn’t the only thing you had observed. When you went to town to pick up new stationery, you spotted Saiki. It was a mere coincidence that he and you were in the same place, at the same time, seemingly heading in the same direction.

You had silently walked behind him, praying to yourself that he wouldn’t turn around and notice you. You hadn’t actively been trying to follow him, so why did you feel like you were some type of stalker?

What snapped you out of your thoughts was a girl with navy blue hair crossing the street to say hi to the man before you. Were they familiar with each other? Mid-squint, you realised that the girl was also a classmate of yours.

Kokori was it? Koko— Ah, yes, Kokomi Teruhashi. She was quite popular among the boys in your school for her beauty. Personally, you had thought it was overrated. Perfect was boring. Not to mention, you got the feeling that she was somewhat narcissistic.

Having people compliment her and practically drool all over her would surely get to her head, right? Then you shoved the thought down automatically because it was merely conjecture, and who were you to judge? Assumptions were assumptions and just that at the end of the day. You did wonder for a moment if your immunity worked against her beauty, too.

You stopped when Saiki did, as Teruhashi moved to stand in front of him to greet him, and you went into full panic mode. You hadn’t been keen on walking past him, so you had stayed in place. Critical thinking saved you, and you pulled out your phone to make it look like you were checking something, all the while dying of embarrassment because of how awkward you probably looked.

When you imagined yourself from a bird's eye view, just standing there, you prayed a natural disaster would come and save you from this humiliation. What followed shocked you, all thoughts of mortification thrown out the window at what took place. Out of your peripherals, Saiki had bowed before continuing to walk.

You had been just as baffled as Teruhashi, the girl in question still frozen in place. Why did he avoid her? You couldn’t help but wonder. Any other boy would have melted at the sight of her. Was he gay? Was he in love with someone else? You continued walking when Saiki started to move again, watching as Teruhashi chased after him. It got to the point where he stopped acknowledging her in general.

You wished you could turn around and walk the other way, but you had to get home! Why today of all days? Your life was never this eventful before. All you could do was watch on as Teruhashi called after him, to no avail. She had resorted to a different method after that, reaching out to grab him forcefully, only for Saiki to dodge her expertly every time. Did he have eyes at the back of his head or something? You deserved a pat on the back for not laughing once during the whole exchange.

When Saiki entered the crowd, Teruhashi tried to follow him. It proved to be fruitless, as he seemingly disappeared. That wiped the grin off your face, and you stopped dead in your tracks.

Saiki had teleported; there was no doubt about it. Your eyes were on him, and then he vanished. It was no trick of the light, you knew for sure as you watched the debris settle from where Saiki had just been moments earlier. That had sent you down a spiral. You had known then that he had more than one power. He didn’t just have the ability of Pyrokeneiss; he could also teleport. Just how powerful was he?

You kept an eye out for Saiki after that, quietly observing him to see if he had any other abilities.

When the boys were playing dodgeball in P.E., you were in Home Ec, trying to make cupcakes. You had used the better half of the lesson watching Saiki play, nearly burning what you had been baking because of your preoccupied thoughts. After being lectured, you spent the rest of the lesson in the back, ducking to escape the glares sent your way by the teacher. 

What had caught your eye was him throwing a ball lightly at the dodgeball cart, only for the whole thing to be destroyed entirely. Your jaw had practically dropped to the floor at the sight, cupcakes all but forgotten in the oven 5 minutes too long as you gawked at his retreating form. If you hadn’t been watching Saiki, you would have assumed it was a meteor that had hit it. He had superhuman strength, too?

It also struck you as odd that anytime the teacher called on him to answer, he would stay silent. Then, the teacher would tell Saiki that he was correct, as if the man in question had replied. Could he also control minds and manipulate them or something? What the hell was happening?

The more you watched him, the more you were convinced that he was an extremely dangerous individual. You had concluded that your decision not to get involved with him had been a good one— you should have stayed put at your last school; coming to PK Academy had been a bad idea.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ 

The days rolled by until Friday came around, and you mentally patted yourself on the back for having succeeded in avoiding Saiki. You had gotten through your first week without garnering any unwanted attention— too bad no one was around to give you a gold star.

You sat at your desk, drinking from a can of cold coffee you had retrieved from a vending machine, as you half-heartedly listened to the rest of the class prattle on about romance. Did they have nothing better to talk about during their break? Personally, you believed they were all way too young and immature to be in relationships, you included. Then again, you were probably the most mature one there since, technically, your mental age was 3 years more or however many times the year had turned back.

Just listening to them gave you a headache. You shifted your attention, looking up to stare at the back of Saiki’s head. You had noticed that, for the most part, he was alone during the day, save for when Nendou and Kaidou— the light blue-haired boy who struck lightning, would come to talk to him.

You lightly shook your head when you realised your mistake; why were you even thinking about Saiki? You sighed inwardly, clearing your mind before turning to your right to look at the track field past the classroom window. You were bored— terribly bored, if your restless legs were anything to go by. You took the time to relish in the sun’s warmth beating down on your face, closing your eyes to enjoy the moment.

After a while, you faced forward again, your eyes scanning the room. That was when your gaze landed on the girl next to Saiki. If memory served you correctly from when the teacher did roll call that morning, her name was Chiyo Yumehara.

Yumehara was plain-looking for the most part and didn’t really stand out. She had rust-coloured hair at chin length and a simple headband with a bow on top of her head. What had caught your eye, however, wasn’t the girl herself— but the textbook she was doodling in. On closer inspection, you realised she was drawing Saiki. Once you leaned left, hands clasping the sides of your desk so you wouldn’t fall, you finally got a good look. Your face distorted in horror and despair at the crude reimagination of Saiki as some generic princely shoujo manga male lead.

You could assume one thing for sure, Yumehara definitely had a crush on Saiki. Why else would she take the time to sketch his face?

You continued to agonise over how she had drawn Saiki. He looked all mushy, not sharp and rough like he normally appeared. Truly ugly, in your opinion, since Saiki was closer to the 'cold, quiet’ type rather than the 'prince’. Her version of him had tame hair, sparkling eyes, and a soft expression.

How had she strayed so far from the original source material when he was less than a metre away from her? Saiki had unruly hair, blank eyes and sharp eyebrows that made his expression somewhat harsher.

Hold on— why were you paying that much attention to him to begin with? You sighed, rubbing your forehead as you looked back down at your desk to continue completing your homework. You decided then that though you had learnt something new by observing, you wouldn’t get involved. Nothing good would come of it, you were sure.

However, remaining unaffiliated proved to be a challenge.

Walking the halls of your school as you tried to navigate your way to the nurse’s office so you could get a bandage was difficult. Despite having been to the room already, you still didn’t know how to get there by yourself.

You had managed to cut yourself when turning the page of a textbook in class earlier. The pain was tremendous, even though the injury was minor one. You inspected the paper cut on your index finger, squeezing below the wound to see if blood would come out. It did. So you had no choice but to get up and roam the halls to find a plaster lest you stain your books with red.

You sighed in mild frustration, looking around, trying to spot someone you could ask to guide you to where you needed to go. That’s when you caught sight of Yumehara, who looked like she was peering around the corner, waiting for someone. With a nod to yourself, you began to stride up to her confidently. 

You faltered three steps in when Yumehara started to giggle to herself. You didn’t feel so bold anymore; the sound coming from her lips kind of freaked you out. Why was she laughing? She was completely alone, too. She looked like a pervert… was homegirl okay?

Despite hesitating, you knew it was too late to turn around and back out, so you settled on walking up to her anyway. You got close enough so that she could hear you before you spoke up. “Hey— uh, Yumehara?” She wouldn’t be creeped out that you already knew her name, right?

Yumehara nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of your voice. She turned around with a startled gasp, bringing up a hand to clutch at her chest. It was then that you noticed she was holding a bunch of papers. She was most likely going to drop them off somewhere for a teacher. Had you stalled her from getting to where she needed to be? …Oh, well, it's not like she had some time limit; class wasn't due to start for the next 10 minutes.

“Mind showing me the way to the nurse’s office? I don’t know where it is— since I’m new and all.” You unconsciously raised an eyebrow at the look of disdain that crossed Yumehara’s face, like she went poking in her ear and you were the earwax she pulled out. 

Hey, hey, hey! That was no way to act around someone who was in need. No matter, you’d pretend that she didn’t just give you a dirty look— you did require her assistance to find the nurse’s office after all. A beat of silence passed before she finally responded.

“…Oh. Uhh— sure, I’ll help you.” At least Yumehara didn’t outright refuse you. Guess she wasn’t as heartless as to tell you to look for someone else to help you with directions. You decided it was worthwhile to give her a smile of gratitude. “Thanks. I have a nasty paper cut, and I need a plaster.”

Then came the feeling of dread when Saiki rounded the corner. You froze, and for a moment, it felt as though your soul had left your body. 'Ah.’ Your lips slowly parted into a grimace. Your mind ran at a million miles per hour. Yumehara was trying to get alone with Saiki, wasn’t she? Had you ruined her plans? Had he noticed? The last thing you wanted was for Saiki to pay attention to you. He was dangerous. This was bad. Bad, bad, bad!

You inhaled, then exhaled, telling yourself to calm down. There was no way Saiki could have predicted that Yumehara was trying to bump into him just so she could have a reason to interact with him, right? That meant you were in the clear— there was no reason for you to be worried.

Yumehara watched as Saiki strolled past quietly, gazing after him with longing and disappointment. She sighed, clutching the papers in her arms closer to her chest as she signalled for you to follow her. At your success in not garnering Saiki’s attention, behind Yumehara, you pumped your fist in the air.

What you failed to notice was Saiki watching you do so. You trailed behind Yumehara with a slight skip to your step, completely oblivious.

'L/n… that’s her name, right? She did that on purpose, didn’t she? But why? ...Don’t tell me she has a crush on me, too. What a pain.’

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ 

Somehow, for the rest of the day, you unintentionally found yourself spoiling every part of Yumehara’s plan to get closer to Saiki.

When Yumehara dropped her pink handkerchief on the floor, you had retrieved it for her. You had noticed it fall, and like the good samaritan you were, you decided to give it back to her. What better way to pass the time on your break than collecting brownie points with her after you spoiled her first plan?

Pushing your chair back, you walked behind Yumehara and knelt so that you could pick it up for her. You unconsciously placed a hand on the metal stand that held up the desk next to you, which happened to be Saiki’s, so you wouldn’t fall.

You didn’t notice how she giggled and hummed to herself as she skipped away, too focused on doing a good deed. “Hey, Yumehara— is this yours?” You held up the pastel pink handkerchief and observed it in your hand as she turned around, her expression dropping as she realised it was you who had stopped her. Well, that wasn’t the look you expected to be greeted with when you helped her.

Then realisation hit you as she looked over your shoulder, and you followed her gaze to realise Saiki was right there behind you. Oh… You’d done it twice now. You had gotten in Yumehara’s way again, hadn’t you? And there you were thinking, it was weird when she dropped the handkerchief so aggressively. Ah— she had thrown it.

Had she done it on purpose… solely to get Saiki’s attention? It wasn’t a bad idea and probably would have worked had you not intervened. Saiki would have picked it up or helped her look for it if she asked. He wouldn’t have. You had ruined her chance. Again. Oh, for the love of—

You wanted to ram your head through the nearest wall. Even though you planned not to get involved, you still managed to get in the middle of Yumehara’s budding romance, and you only had yourself to blame.

The girl in question hurried over to you and snatched the handkerchief from your hand before she dramatically ran out of the classroom, clearly upset and somewhat embarrassed. Damn. The least you could do was apologise and say you were sorry after what you had done. “Geez, all I did was pick it up. Hey! We have class in three minutes! Yumehara, wait!” With that, you ran after her.

After you managed to chase her down, you apologised to Yumehara with a cold drink you bought from the vending machine. She didn’t seem too annoyed after that. You inwardly apologised to the girl for ruining her plans not once but twice— saying it out loud would only cause her embarrassment. With how covert she was being, she probably wouldn’t appreciate you rubbing salt into her wounds by bringing up her failed attempt at trying to play Cupid.

As your luck would have it, the rest of the day went by with you stopping Yumehara from getting close to Saiki at every turn— without even trying.

You picked up the ball in P.E. when it rolled over to Saiki’s direction, thinking you were being nice, only to realise later that Yumehara had purposely thrown it that far.

You opened the door to the staff room when Yumehara had too many books in her hands to do it herself. She had hoped Saiki would help her since he was nearby, but you had come to the rescue instead— your efforts were not appreciated.

You offered to help finish the extra cookies she made in Home Ec, successfully stopping her from going to find Saiki. All the while, you had done everything unconsciously, only realising your mistake afterwards. What a disaster.

The last lesson for the day came, and you rolled your neck from side to side, your mental exhaustion palpable. How had you stopped Yumehara’s plans every single time? Why did you have to be around whenever she decided to put her plan into motion?

You hoped she didn’t hate you. Or worse, think you were deliberately trying to stop her because you wanted Saiki all to yourself, which was the furthest from the truth anyone could get. Then again, you wouldn’t be surprised if you were the reason she started her Villain Arc and made you her first target. At least the woman had the patience of a saint; you had no idea how she hadn’t asked to take it outside yet.

You yawned into the back of your hand, waiting for the day to end, eyes trailing to the classroom window when the sound of rain filtered into your ears. There was a downpour.

Despite the weather being sunny in the morning, the clouds had turned grey, and the temperature had dropped significantly. You placed your head on the desk, its surface cool against the side of your face. Shivering at the sensation, you stretched your arms across the table before crossing them to completely hide your face.

The weather managed to affect your mood, making you feel drowsy as you tried to preserve warmth. At least there wasn’t long left till home time. You had nearly fallen asleep during the last period of the day, and thankfully, the teacher never commented.

When the bell rang, signalling that the school day was over, you rubbed the slumber from your eyes. You hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella, so you would either have to ask someone to share with you or use your bag as a shield against the drizzle.

You quickly packed up your things so you could hurry to the entrance, hoping you could catch someone to walk halfway home with. Grabbing your bag and placing its strap on your shoulder, you rushed to the shoe lockers. That’s when you caught sight of Yumehara.

She was standing just before the steps outside, the glass door between the two of you. She didn’t have an umbrella either. If you had to guess, she must have forgotten it at home like you did. Slipping your outdoor shoes on with one hand, you walked over to the entrance of the building and stepped through it.

You decided to wait beside her, hoping you’d get lucky and someone would offer to share an umbrella with you. “You forgot your umbrella, too?” You turned to Yumehara, who spoke first. “Huh? Oh— Yeah. I didn’t think it would rain today.” You looked up at the sky. Wow, this was awkward; you had no idea how to keep the conversation going.

The clouds were still grey, and the rain didn’t look like it was going to let up anytime soon. You breathed in the fresh air; the earthy smell accompanying the weather was always your favourite. Besides the part where you would get wet, you absolutely adored the rain.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, letting the soft patter of the falling water lull you into a sense of calm. You pulled out your phone to check the time. It didn’t look like anyone would offer to share an umbrella with you any time soon. “At this rate, we’re gonna have to walk home by ourselv—”

Before you could finish voicing your thoughts, miraculously, the clouds cleared, and the weather improved. You gaped up at the sun that had appeared out of nowhere. No matter how you looked at it, this turn of events was anything but normal. Was it Saiki?

You quickly shoved down the first thought that came to mind, moving away from the shade the school building provided as you started walking to the main gate. There was no way he was that powerful. Even humans had their limitations, and you couldn’t possibly have been so unlucky as to become classmates with someone with such extraordinary abilities.

You began to make your way home, and before long, you realised unusual things were happening around you. Right before you were about to get run over by a car, the vehicle seemingly defied all laws of psychics and flew over your head before driving off normally.

Then, when a biker nearly crashed into you, it somehow changed directions and swerved to the right, alarmingly close to driving onto the main road. That wasn’t normal, right? You weren’t going insane, were you? When someone bumped into you, causing you to lose your balance, you found that you were standing upright— like you didn’t nearly trip face-first onto the pavement.

What the hell was going on? Was it some long-forgotten ancestor who had taken pity on you? Or was the author apologising for the tremendous amount of bad luck they gave you?

As you looked around to make sense of things, you noticed Saiki. The bane of your existence. How was he everywhere? His pink hair made him easy to notice, even if he was trying to blend in with the crowd. Had he… had he saved you? Wait, that meant— he could use telekinesis?! You had to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. You could not let on that you knew of his powers.

You turned around, preparing to sprint, your grip on the shoulder strap of your bag tightening. “Who sent you?” At the sound of Saiki’s voice filling your ears, your stomach practically dropped to your feet, tensing when the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Why did you feel like you were in some sort of thriller movie?

The last thing you wanted to do was look behind you. In the film industry, that was as good as sealing your fate. Death was looming over your shoulder, and damn it all because you did not want to be the first one to die. Maybe if you pretended that you couldn’t hear— “I know you heard me.” You winced. This was not good. Sirens were going off in your head. Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!

You swore under your breath as you turned around to face the man. You didn't have much of a choice; you’d have to play dumb. “Hm? Oh! Saiki, right? What do you mean by that? I’m just a normal high school student.” You gave Saiki a strained smile. You weren’t lying; you weren’t anyone special save for your immunity to the supernatural.

Huh— was it just you, or was he prettier up close? You shunned the thoughts running through your head; now was not the time! Saiki narrowed his eyes, the suspicion in them clear as day. “Who are you?” Now, you were confused. Did he think you were a spy or something? Had no one else noticed his powers like you had? He wasn’t exactly careful about using them since they had caught your attention early on.

“I— uh, I’m l/n. Your classmate. I sit behind you?” Saiki furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly, clenching his jaw. There was silence for a moment, and you wondered if that meant you could leave. “Follow me." You hesitated, unsure what to do, as he swiftly turned on his heel to walk away. He paused when he realised you weren't following, looking at you over his shoulder. "Come on.” He wasn’t going to give up, was he?

The seed of doubt had already been planted, and there was no getting rid of it now. You wouldn’t be able to bluff your way out of this one. Maybe confronting him would be better? That way, you wouldn’t have to worry about avoiding him all the time. You fast-walked to close the distance between you and him.

For the entirety of the journey, you wondered where he was taking you. You prayed to whichever higher power was willing to listen that he wouldn’t murder you. From what you had seen, he could easily do so.

“Where are we?” You stopped in front of the house before you. You guessed it must be his house, but asking to make sure was always a good thing. “This is my home.” Oh, boy. You knew one thing for sure; you definitely weren’t prepared for this.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ 

For a psychic, Saiki’s room was more average than you expected it to be. There was a desk, a bed and a TV. Other amenities, such as the wardrobe built into the wall, a bookshelf and a small planted tree for decor, were also in plain sight. The bedroom of a typical high school teenager.

It was… weird. From what you could tell, Saiki was an esper, so you assumed he would have an extravagant room, at least. That meant that he didn’t use his powers for the wrong things. So you could safely assume he wouldn’t kill you in cold blood, right?

Saiki wouldn’t murder you, would he? He wouldn’t be so careless as to slaughter his classmate in his own house. That would make him the lead suspect in your homicide, right?

His mum knew you were here too, so he wouldn’t use violence to subdue you, no? You hoped so. Mrs Saiki had been cooking when you came in. Saiki didn’t let you see each other but she seemed like the sweetest woman by the way she greeted him, so naturally— her son would have inherited some of her personality traits, right? You wanted to leave already. Being alone with him was hurting your peace of mind— why couldn't he do this in front of his mother?

“I’ll ask again. Who are you?” While Saiki had parked himself on the chair facing away from his desk, looking at you sceptically as he sat like he owned the place (which he did), you chose to stand across from him. Damn, this was awkward. Why had he brought you here again? “I told you, I’m just a classmate.”

You hoped your answer would be enough to appease him. You thought wrong. "…Why can’t I figure you out?“ You raised an eyebrow at that. It didn’t seem as though he was asking you; more like he was talking out loud. Then again, he did deliberately voice his question, so that meant you could pry. "I’m sorry?”

“I can’t read your thoughts. Why is that? Are you stupid? Or did someone send you?” He was blunt, huh? Did he have no manners? Assuming that you were a moron… was kind of mean. You were somewhat offended. Wait— he said he couldn’t read your thoughts. Did that mean he could use telepathy as well?

“Ah… You also have telepathy?” It would explain a lot, like how he could reply to others even though it looked like he was staying silent— but wrapping your head around the fact that he had that many powers was almost impossible. Truly mindboggling. Your brain was hurting.

“Also?” It was his turn to raise an eyebrow at you. Saiki looked at you expectantly, leaning back in his chair as he waited for you to elaborate. Cursing yourself inwardly for not thinking before you spoke, you found interest in the pens on his desk. The cat was out of the bag, so there was no point in trying to hide it. “I might have seen you use your powers. Uh, pyrokinesis, telekenisis and… superhuman strength?”

Silence followed after you spoke, and you stared down at your feet. “I have to get rid of you.” Your head snapped up to look at Saiki, your eyes widening. You gaped at him, your mind running a million miles per hour.

You were right! He was going to murder you! Oh, no, no, no! You still had so many things you wanted to cross off your bucket list— so many sights you had yet to see! This could not be happening!

“Wait, wait, wait— that— that’s too far, man! I have a family— kids, I have kids!” It was true that humans would spout nonsense when faced with imminent death, and you were living proof of it. You winced at the words that were coming out of your mouth.

No, you did not have children, but you would say anything if it meant staying alive. Your lips trembled as you gazed at Saiki with pleading eyes. You didn’t want to die! Not like this!

“Don’t lie. I know for a fact that you don’t.” Saiki shot you an unamused look as he stared you down. You broke out into a cold sweat. What the hell were you going to do now? Only one thing came to mind. “Please! Spare me! I’ll do anything!” You got onto your knees as you begged with your hands clasped together.

Your dignity went straight out the window, and you couldn’t care. You would shamelessly plead for your life if it meant he wouldn’t kill you. “Start by telling me why I can’t read your thoughts and who sent you.”

So, he wouldn’t kill you if you told him the truth? Fine, that was a small price to pay. You’d rat out your own flesh and blood if it meant he would leave you be. You were heartless like that— oh well, survival of the fittest, as they say. You looked up in hope at the man before you for throwing you a lifeline. You could still get out of this unscathed!

“No one! Damn it! I already told you, I’m just a regular high school student… and the thing with the mind-reading— I guess you could say I’m immune.” If anyone walked into the room, they would most likely assume that you were doing something not so family-friendly, but it wasn't like you could move.

Get your mind out of the gutter! You internally cursed at yourself for having thought such a thing. It was too late to get up now; you’d have to stay on your knees. Besides, you didn’t know if you were in the clear yet or not, so you’d remain in place until you were sure. You just hoped Mrs Saiki was the type of parent who wouldn’t walk through the door unannounced; you still had some decency worth saving.

“Immune?” Saiki leaned forward in his chair, showing a slight interest in your words. He tilted his head to the side as he studied you. “Yes. To everything supernatural. Naturally, that means all of your powers don’t work on me.”

Once you were finished with your brief explanation, Saiki brought a hand up to his chin. “…So that’s why… Tell me, have you noticed anything weird with the world?” Saiki moved his gaze from the ceiling down to you as he gave you a blank stare. You looked elsewhere to gather your thoughts. There were so many things you could think of, off the top of your head.

“Uh… Yeah? Do you mean the weird hair colours? The quick healing? Oh, and the chop to the neck can knock someone out. There’s the fact that skinny people can be super strong and how clothes can get ripped off of someone, but their hoo-ha’s are still covered. The worst of it all is the year keeps repeating itself. Did you notice that, too?” You used your fingers to list everything weird thing you’ve noticed before you turned to Saiki.

Finally! Someone who understood your struggles, you'd been graced with an ally with whom you could share your troubles. Silence followed, and your natural response was to overthink. Saiki didn’t speak for a moment, leaving you wondering what you said wrong. “How… How is that possible?” You perked up at his words before looking at him sceptically. “What do you mean?”

“None of my powers work on you. Not even mind control… The weird things around you were all caused by me.”  

The air was stagnant; not a single word was exchanged as his words sank in. Then, your jaw nearly fell to the floor at Saiki’s revelation. He did all that? How on earth did he have the ability to pull all that off? Take the crazy hair colours for example— if he was the cause of it, then he had managed to alter human biology down to the genetic level.

Wasn’t this the part where your fight-or-flight response was supposed to kick in? Of course, your body would choose the 'freeze’ option. Staying still wasn’t helping your current mental state. The fact that Saiki had enough power to destroy the world, with just his mind if he wanted to, terrified you. The man before you was the most dangerous human to exist on earth to date. No living creature should be allowed to possess such abilities.

“Huh?! It was— It was you? This entire time? You— What the hell?! …Are you— are you even human?” Your mind reeled, and you struggled to form coherent sentences. Was Saiki the reason you had such a bad headache that you nearly collapsed on your first day at PK Academy? It made sense. Had you gotten used to his powers, then? Was that why you were able to be near him now?

“I’m just a regular high school student.” You looked at Saiki in sheer disbelief and doubt. He was anything but a normal person. He was definitely the most potent psychic you had ever met. You shook your head at his statement. “No, you aren’t. That's— That’s a lie.” You folded your arms over your chest. “I am. If you try telling anyone else otherwise… well.” Saiki brought his hand up before he swiped his thumb across his throat.

The nerve! He was threatening you, and you… you couldn’t even do anything about it! You bit your lip in mild frustration before you sighed. “Y'know what— forget it. Fine, keep your secrets. Just don’t kill me.” There was no other option. You’d have to yield and wave the flag of surrender.

Saiki crossed his legs and placed his hand on his knee, the other on the armrest of his chair. “So, your immunity? Explain it to me.” Why did he have to be so intimidating? Your knees still hurt from sitting on the floor. You’d stay put just in case, though— you didn’t feel like risking your life over a case of sore limbs.

“I'm not sure why, but I've always noticed weird things; I guess I just developed a natural immunity to the supernatural for some reason. The power to nullify other’s abilities when used on me.” You didn't know why you were being this honest. Maybe because your life was on the line? Who knew?

“Can you turn it off?” You halted any movement when your mind finally processed what Saiki said. He couldn’t read your mind; you knew that much, so would lying to him have any repercussions? One look at Saiki’s emotionless face told you that you didn’t want to find out.

You opted to lean back and sit with your legs folded beneath you so your weight would no longer only be on your knees. Damn, you felt like you spent the day working your back at the gym; that was your exercise for the week. You sighed as you looked down at your lap before meeting Saiki’s gaze again. “Er… Do you have to know?” His response was almost immediate, “Yes.”

You internally groaned. Your immunity was your trump card. If you revealed everything, it meant giving up the privacy of every one of your thoughts. You would no longer have the upper hand.

You shook your head; you refused to meet your end here. It was either spill the truth, or it was your funeral. You chose the former. “Well, if I uh— if I put in enough effort, I can turn my immunity off. Would you— um… would you like me to try?” Truly, this was by far the most bizarre encounter you had. You felt like some backwater fanfiction character, stuttering and stumbling over your words.

The silence that followed made you cringe. You couldn’t even distract yourself or break away from your little staring contest with Saiki. It didn’t help that his eyes scared you— like he saw right through you as if he could read you like an open book. It was unnerving. “…Okay.” You didn’t realise that you were holding your breath until he spoke.

You were about to tell him that you needed physical contact to be able to turn your immunity off, and then an idea hit you. It was a bad idea, a terrible idea, and it could get you killed— but if you succeeded, you were sure it’d be worth it.

You weighed the pros and cons before deciding you didn’t care what would happen. Pranking Saiki, if you could even call it that, would not affect him if he was able to predict it with his telepathy. This would be the last time you’d be able to trick Saiki, so why not go for it? You were giving up your ability to think freely, after all. “Let me tell you a story before I turn it off.” You looked up at him with determination.

Saiki was not amused. He stared at you for a moment, then sighed before he relented. “Fine. Hurry up and get it over with.” You weren’t sure if it was a trick of the light, but for a second, it looked like his eyes gleamed with curiosity. You held yourself back from grinning. He was a fool! He’d played right into your hands! You bit your cheek to resist the urge to snicker, lest you give yourself away too much.

Bringing your fist up to your mouth, you proceeded to clear your throat for dramatic effect. “A student trains whilst his master looks on. When the student notices his mentor, he turns to him and enquires what’s wrong. The master replies that his time has come, and he must go.” Saiki looked about as interested as a rock, but from the way he was leaning forward ever so slightly, you could tell he wanted to know more.

You continued, “The student became upset, claiming that he still needed guidance and that he couldn't do it without his teacher. Chuckling, his mentor admits that the student will surpass his teacher in no time, so he no longer needs help.”

You felt pretty good about the fact that you’d roped Saiki in. You decided then that if he chose to hack you to pieces for this, you’d be okay with it. In essence, what you were about to do was equivalent to rickrolling Saiki. “The student denies this and says that his teacher has seen and done everything, so a mere student like himself can’t surpass him.”

You wanted to catch Saiki completely off guard, and you were sure there was no way he’d see it coming. “The teacher says that the student overestimates him. That there are things he has yet to do, sights he has yet to see. The student is now curious, so he asks what his teacher means by 'sights he has yet to see’.”

You could barely keep a straight face, but somehow, you pulled through without laughing at your joke. “The teacher doesn’t have much time left. As he begins to fade away, he says... 'I have never laid my eyes upon two pretty best friends… one of them was always unsightly’.”

You bit your lip, feeling your stomach expand as you held your laugh in until it dawned on him what you were referencing. To rub salt into the wound, you did your best to put on an accent as you continued, “I ain’t ever seen two pretty best friends; it’s always one of 'em gotta be ugly.”

Saiki became visibly distressed as his lips parted in slight disbelief. This was the most expressive you’d seen him all week, and you decided in that moment it was well worth it. “Even now, I can’t escape that godforsaken video… Everywhere I go, someone always has to think of it.”

You couldn’t stop yourself even if you wanted to. You dissolved into cackles at his reaction, only stopping when Saiki menacingly moved to stand up from his chair. “I may be patient… but I am no saint.” You spluttered, trying to crawl backwards as you looked up at the psychic. “Han— hang on!”

Saiki only stared down at you in mild distaste. "I will cleanse you off this earth.“ You met his gaze with your own incredulous one. "That— That’s not very cash money of you.” Telling him that joke was still worth it. You valued your life, sure, but clearly not enough to practice some self-restraint.

Before Saiki could corner you and do the deed kill you in cold blood, you quickly retaliated. “Hey, wait— wait! If it weren’t for you turning back time every year, I’d be old enough to drive! I wouldn't be slaving away, still trying to pass the same curriculum I know off by heart. Do you have any idea how much you’ve cost me cause you used your abilities?! …Now we’re even.” You huffed once you were finished with your little rant, folding your arms across your chest.

That seemed to do the trick, as Saiki considered your words before taking a seat again on the chair in front of his desk. You raised an eyebrow at his actions. He was easily guilt-tripped, huh? How interesting. As they say, you learn something new every day. That could go in the memory bank for later use.

You put your hand in front of Saiki, palm side up. “Alright, let’s get this over with. Give me your hand.” He looked from you to your hand and then back. His reluctance was clear as day, causing you to exhale through your nose. “Oh, come on! You asked me to show you and turn off my immunity, so give it.” You made 'grabby fingers’ at him, furthering your point. Saiki hesitated for a second before he sighed in defeat. “Fine.”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips unconsciously as you waited patiently for Saiki to place his hand in yours. When he did, you shoved down the thoughts that claimed how smooth and warm his hand was. Curse you, your tendency to be a touch-starved heathen and the pretty boy in front of you who was red flags all around. Now was not the time to be distracted!

You regulated your breathing, closing your eyes. 'Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, hold, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Inhale…’ It didn’t take long for the black that you were used to behind your eyelids to change to an image of Saiki holding your hand. The best way to describe the process was that it was close to an out-of-body experience. All you knew for sure was that you had no control over your actual body.

Despite everything being dark, you could see Saiki and yourself clearly, as if the two of you were illuminated. You turned your gaze downward at where the two of you were connected before observing the man. That’s when you noticed it. Thin strings, thousands— no millions of them, coming from his body and disappearing into the distance.

The maximum number of strings you had seen on a person had been around 3 or 4. You had never encountered someone with so many before. You were reminded in that moment that Saiki was the most powerful human on earth. As if there was any before, but there was no doubt about it after this.

There were so many broken strings between you and Saiki that you were unsure which one would switch off your immunity to his telepathy. This whole process of 'turning it off' was basically a visual guessing game. The only thing you could do was trust your intuition since that worked for you majority of the time.

The thin strings that stuck out of Saiki’s temple caught your attention; there may have been ten or so of them, and a few strings coming through his eyelashes, tangled in the mix. It had to be one of them— your gut feeling told you so. It was now or never, so you willed them to connect with you, for the strings to mend. The process took longer than usual, a given since Saiki was such a powerful esper.

Once you were done and finally opened your eyes, you realised you were clenching your teeth. The headache that hit you was expected, and you were grateful you were on the floor. If you had been standing, you would have fallen already.

You rubbed at your forehead, your fingers trying to lessen the pain by massaging your temples. “There. That should do it. Try using your telepathy on me.” You didn’t notice Saiki’s stare or the look of mild concern he shot your way; too busy trying to ease your migraine.

'Can you hear me?’  You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Saiki’s voice reverberating inside your brain. The heavy furrow between your brow relaxed somewhat when you realised that your headache was gone. How? You had no idea. 'Wahhh, your voice is echoing in my head. This is weird.’

“So, it does work.” There was a slight difference between Saiki using his telepathy only on you and him using telepathy to speak, the slight echo. It was so minuscule that one wouldn’t notice unless they were looking for it. The only similarity was that both times, he hadn’t moved his mouth. Until now, Saiki’s lips had moved when he addressed you. It was weird, knowing that he communicated with you now without moving a muscle.

You surmised that he was talking to you telepathically now. Did that mean others could hear, too, or was it just one person at a time or something? You got rid of the mental image of Saiki turning to everyone in class to repeat himself until everyone heard, as soon as it appeared. No— they could probably hear him if they were close enough; he was the most potent psychic you’d seen, after all.

Saiki nodded as if to confirm your suspicions. He folded his arms over his chest as he gazed down at you. "I’m talking to you telepathically, but it’s different. Anyone in hearing distance will be able to pick up on the sound of my voice.“ He had read your mind, hadn’t he? He answered your questions without you having to say them aloud.

Having thought it up yourself was one thing, and having him agree with your deductions was another. It was similar to having a theory about a show and then later finding out that it was canon. You landed somewhere between feeling awe and slight shock.

"You're that in tune with your powers? Unbelievable. Do you— Do you have any more abilities?” You were on the edge of your seat because this topic absolutely fascinated you. The sense of danger and fear you once felt when near Saiki was nowhere to be found.

You wondered why since it was only 10 minutes ago that you wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say, but satisfaction always brings it back, so were you really in the wrong? “I have multiple powers. Telekinesis, levitation, x-ray vision, clairvoyance, astral projection, pyrokinesis, mind control, psychometrics, and invisibility are a few I can name off the top of my head. Only one of which works on you.”

Your lips parted, and you weren’t sure how exactly you were supposed to feel after being bombarded with such information. The number of powers Saiki possessed would explain why you had seen so many strings on him before. “Seriously? Are you sure you’re human?”

“I'm just your average high school.” You would've assumed he was humble, but the way he was adamant made you think he was trying to convince himself, too. To each their own, though. If he wanted to be average, then who were you to fault him?

You wondered if it was your place to say what was on your mind before you abandoned the thought. Why did it matter? He knew what you were thinking anyway. Damn, most people could only dream of the abilities Saiki had, but surely being that powerful came with a price.

You had your powers, and if you hadn't experienced them first-hand, you’d think they were super cool, but you knew the burden. The grass wasn’t always greener on the other side, and the law of equivalent exchange was true. To gain something, something else of equal must be lost. Maybe that was why Saiki was so emotionless, kinda like Mob from Mob Psycho 100.

“How… how do you even live with a burden like that?” You popped the question that had been bugging you. When you took a peek at Saiki, your eyebrows raised in surprise when you realised that this was the most astonished you’d seen Saiki in the time you’d observed him, though he quickly regained his composure. “Burden? …Why would you think it’s a burden?” He patiently waited for you to answer, and you found yourself gazing past his shoulder at the wall behind him.

“Well… if you look past the hype, then isn’t it just troublesome? From how you act, I’m guessing you have no control over your telepathy. Always knowing what others are thinking— even if you don’t want to must be hard, no? I bet it’s spoiled a lot of movies and shows for you. I’m guessing it makes it really hard to make friends, too, since no one can know about your powers.” You listed your reasons one by one. ”Oh.”

For once, you were being honest willingly. You may not have had psychic powers yourself, so you couldn’t be certain Saiki agreed with your guesses, but you could at least try to sympathise. It was the same with you since your immunity had its ups and downs.

You didn’t notice the silence that engulfed the room, too busy stuck in your thoughts. “I’m going to be blunt. Do you like me?” For a second, your mind short-circuited because you couldn’t wrap your head around Saiki’s words. A flurry of questions filled your head. 'How did this happen?’, 'Why did it happen?’, 'Where am I?’, and 'Who am I?’, the norm. 'Get a grip!’ You pulled yourself together before you replied. “What? Huh? Why would you even think—”

Saiki remained stoic, cutting you off so he could speak. “You stopped all of Yumehara’s plans when she tried to get closer to me.” So, maybe after his revelation, you could kind of, somewhat, maybe understand why he would jump to the conclusion that you liked him. It was reasonable if you looked at it from his point of view, but it was the furthest anyone could get from the truth.

You admitted to finding him attractive, sure, but that was because you had eyes that could see clearly. He was pretty; what else was there to say? It didn’t go any further than that, though. You barely knew the guy! “You noticed that? Uh— no. No, I don’t. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time... Multiple times.”

Knowing that he had psychic powers made it easy to understand how he had picked up on your behaviour at school. Saiki nodded, and you guessed that he was indicating that he believed you.

You were at a loss now of what you should do. How was one supposed to continue the conversation in this situation, again? “Don’t tell a soul about what happened here today. I mean it. I’ll know if you breathe a word of this to anyone." You readily agreed to his request, signalling that you’d keep everything a secret; it's not like you went around airing people's dirty laundry anyway.

Before you had a chance to say anything else to Saiki, the sound of a notification from your phone drew your attention. Pulling the device out of your bag, you checked the lock screen to investigate. A text from a family member had let you know that there was a package for you.

'There’s a box full of coffee jelly. Give them out to your classmates so you can make more friends!’

You suspected that they bulk-brought coffee jelly from the supermarket so you could hand it out to your class after the weekend. You sighed; it’s not like you needed it. Besides, what would happen if your classmates didn’t like the desert? You’d rather not be humiliated by rejection.

"Coffee jelly?” You forgot Saiki could read your thoughts now. You lowered your phone to look at the psychic in question, raising your eyebrow. Even if his expression was neutral, his previously blank eyes were practically sparkling.

Did he… like coffee jelly? You decided to take the risk of asking him if he wanted some. It was easier to be rejected by an acquaintance (?) rather than a stranger. “Do you uh— do you want some? I don’t plan on handing them out to people or eating them all by myself. They’ll go to waste… but if you’re willing to take them off my hands—”

“Yes. I’ll take them.” Saiki’s response was instantaneous. You couldn’t stop the slight smile of surprise that graced your lips. You hid it with your phone as you studied him. What a turn of events. There was no sign of the all-powerful esper you were used to. 'He’s much less intimidating like this.’

“Well… do you wanna go to my place, then?”

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ 

bonus:

Saiki returned to his house after a long day, making his way up the stairs to go to his room shortly after taking off his shoes. He thought back to the day's events, satisfied with the outcome.

Saiki would never admit it, but his favourability for you had sky-rocketed when you offered him coffee jelly. He guessed that it wasn’t so bad that you knew of his powers now since it had ended with him getting his new favourite dessert.

You giving him the treat was enough for him to no longer consider you a nuisance. He would never tell you this in person, of course. He would rather die than let you find out he held you to a higher standard than his classmates now.

'Claiming my powers are a burden when anyone else would praise them… you’re interesting, l/n.’

Saiki decided not to dwell on his thoughts as he changed out of his uniform and got ready to go to bed.

At least now, he could finally read your mind. He no longer considered you dangerous, and with that, another disastrous day of his managed to meet a not-so-disastrous end.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

“What do I have here?” He dragged the words out as he stared intently at the way the blue coils of rope tightened against the deep shades of mahogany skin. It suited you well and made you appear far more timeless and pliant than you previously were.

Catching his lidded gaze as he comes into your view, it burns your cheeks hot. Perhaps it was the embarrassment from being vulnerable under his sadistic inspection or the plain fact that you're caught up in his web. “What are you doing here?” You grit the words out.

His shoes click wordlessly in reply as he pauses at your waist. His eyes lingered on the skin of your wrist as your sleeves slumped down due to your position, dragging upward, swallowing you in his yellow pupilless eyes before he finally answered.

“Here?” He parrots your words sardonically. “I live here, obviously, little bird.” He mocks with candor as he smiles at you, which is less genuine than a ‘fuck you’ from a Raider, which feels more polite than this does.

Bastard.

It bothers you how much he succeeds in always getting under your skin, and it bothers you even more that you like it. Tamsy is a constant pain in your ass, and not only that, you've always been suspicious of his character.

“What were you doing in my room?” His voice cuts through your thoughts, twisting through your ears and pulling tight around your brain.

“Nothing.” You answer, distancing your gaze from him.

“Liar.” He cooed, taking his finger and coiling it around a piece of his blonde hair, rolling it around the pads of his fingers boredly. “Try again.”

“Excuse m—”

“Try. Again.” He interrupts, speaking more slowly as if you hadn't comprehended his request in the first place. 

You glare into his eyes; they're like corrupted pieces of gold, once beautiful, now warped and menacing, and you feel a familiar heat crawl up your spine, coiling malevolently in your core and spreading to your legs.

Barking out a laugh, you scoff. “Fuck. You.” You delay your answer with crude words. You couldn't tell him you were looking for that damn book.

Tamsy’s smile curved as he stroked his thumb against his hairline, brushing against the scar on his face. “You get more adorable every time I see you, little bird.”

Adorable. The words are cemented deep in the crevices of your brain. He couldn't be serious, could he? Your stare slits as you watch him, his hair untied from that godawfully large bun, now cascading blonde and navy blue streaks over his shoulders.

His focus peers back to your concentration, catching your eye. Your fingers itch, and despite knowing it's futile, you try to wrench your body from the rope.

Charmed by your sudden exuberance, Tamsy steps back, making a show of admiring your foolish endeavors. As if wriggling like this is more amusing than anything else he's seen in ages, and it's true. He wasn't lying when he called you adorable; you occupied a good part of his thoughts. He'd even praise you for it if he weren't so certain you'd exploit that truth.

He watches the rope dig into your skin, leaving burns. He tuts; as much as he enjoyed watching you fail, that didn't mean he wanted to see you destroy yourself in the process.

With a flick of his wrist holding the Tokushin, your world spins, and your heart lurches. A navy thread snakes out, coiling sinuously around your forearms and snapping them behind your back. The sudden movement makes your heart lurch, and your knuckles press harshly against the small of your back. You lurch forward, pulled until his face is just inches from yours. Your breath catches in your throat, but before you can speak, more strings shoot out, snatching your shins. Your body is hoisted, your back arching delicately, as your world tips upside down. 

“Ha. Ha. Ha," you say dryly, staring into the smug smile plastered on his lips.

His gaze lingers on you before tracking the spot he’d caught you snooping. The corner of his mouth ticks up, but there's no warmth in his eyes. He wasn't distracted; his so-called "cute nuisance" wasn't getting away with anything. He knew you were up to no good, and Tamsy would figure it out before the night was over. His eyes snap back to yours, pinning you in place. "I'll ask you again, dear." His fingers trace his distaff idly. "What were you doing in my room?"

You meet his gaze from your upside-down position, unflinching. His pleasant smile strains and thins at your audacity, and with a burst of sarcastic exasperation, he tosses his hands up in mock surrender.

“Fine, your loss. I was considering giving you an easy out.” He shrugs languidly as he closes the distance between you both further. “I know ways to make you talk to me, little bird.” His fingertips abruptly glide, cold and promising, over your thigh. You jerk against the ropes, which cut into you—instantly your face is hot with a feeling you won't dare name. “I’ve done it before; you know I can do it again.”

His words pull your brain into a haze, and you hate that he is right about that fact. “Fuck you,” you repeat, gaze snapping to where you feel the ropes dig against your skin the most. Each strand was meticulously pulled to keep you subdued, like a fly caught in a spider's web.

He purred, "Such foul language, little bird." His fingers spread and pressed against your pelvis, making you take a sharp, shuddering breath through your nose, his name leaving your lips as your back bows.

Grinding the heel of his palm against your lower abdomen, he watches you stifle sounds. “What’s this? Nothing else to spit at me? If I recall properly, you enjoyed this—" The words don't leave him fast enough to catch you craning your head up and spitting on him.

His eyes darken as he regards the liquid trailing down his cheek. Deliberately maintaining your gaze, his tongue flicks out, catching the spittle as he wets his lips. His smile hits you low, and your muscles coil tight before you can stop them. You try to shift your legs; a flicker of instinct sends your thighs clenching, but the movement dies. The rough ropes bite, a cruel reminder that your body is immobile.

Sphereites above, you loathed him sometimes. You squint at his appearance. You figured he’d be out longer, given this was a requested day off, but, like most of your theories, that came to him. This one was wrong. “Where’d you go?” You asked, tipping your chin in his direction.

“You aren't even going to apologize for spitting on me?” He asked curiously, his eyebrows raising as he wiped his thumb around the glossy remnants.

“You enjoyed it, I’m sure.” Your voice is louder, eyes glaring; as if on cue, he places his thumb against his lips, the tip of his tongue catching the remains of your saliva. It bristles you instantly as your face twists in disgust. The previous annoyance has melted, but the clipped edges remain. “I could get seriously injured if you keep me like this too long.” You remark, letting your head fall back to place.

“You enjoy it, I’m sure.” Tamsy mimicked your earlier retort, making you huff. You could only stare up at his face—a serene mask. He looks up, thinking about your question now. “However, since you must know. I went out. I bought a cake.” He stated simply.

Your gaze tries to find the cake he mentions, but as your eyes dart around his person and his desk, you find none. “I shared it with a friend.” He mused simply, grinning to himself as if there were some joke you didn't find.

“Ugh, what the shit, Tamsy—” It’s his turn to silence you; chilled palms rubbed soft, soothing circles along the exposed skin of your inner thighs as he felt the plushness beneath his fingers, his nails skimmed the edges of your skin, watching you shiver.

“Now, now. I answered your question, sweetheart. I think you should indulge me now; that’s fair, isn’t it?” He leans in, whispering against the shell of your ear, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. He watches from his periphery the way you bite down on your lip, your eyes squeezing shut as your lips tremble. “Absolutely adorable…” He whispered, his lips skimming against your shoulder blade.

Your face heats up at his touch as you glance toward his bookshelf. Various worn covers peek out from the wooden shelf; most of them seem unimportant, but you’re sure that hiding in plain sight is the volume you want. You glance back at him, and he's already been staring at you—his gaze travels toward his bookshelf, and he hums.

“My, my, my. Was the little bird flying too close to the sun?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you as he looked down at you. Burying his fingers through the strands of your hair, he forces you to stare up at him. “Be good; I quite enjoy your company above anyone else. I’d hate for someone as precious as you to find yourself burned.” His words were cryptic as he sighed.

“You’d burn me?” You ask.

“Never.” He answers almost immediately, before his face wrinkles, annoyed at his own quickness. A flash of something indescribable passes against your eyes as if catching his sudden vulnerability, and he huffs. “Behave.”

“Make me.”

The words fall from your lips like the Holy Grail. It's Tamsy’s turn to shudder, but to the untrained eye, it looks as if he hadn't batted an eye at the bold statement.

“Little brat.” He grits despite himself; there's an enraptured smile forming on his lips. He tilts your chin up, his thumb traces the curve of your lip, dragging the plush flesh of your lower lip down slightly before he leans in. Your breath shortens as you take him in, granted… You were… are here for serious reasons, but he makes your head spin and your thoughts jumble.

You can never focus on your goal with him around, and it seems neither can he. He relishes your gasp as your lips briefly touch their air around you, lost in the polished amber of his gaze. You hadn't noticed his hand gliding beneath your waistband until you felt his fingers sliding against your heat, feeling the wetness there as he dipped his index finger to trail along your slit.

“You’re soaked, little bird.” He announced, pulling his hand away as he stared at his glistening finger, an amused puff leaving his lips, his gaze dropping to the fabric that covers your squirming body. Your arousal bubbles over as he stares at you. Tamsy knew you were right about one thing: you’d certainly get injured if he kept you suspended like this for long.

He makes a decisive tap of the Tokushin staff end to the ground; your body is weightless as gravity shifts, forcing the ropes to contort unyieldingly in your release; your head cocks back as you feel the soft presence of his shoulder cradling the back of your head.

Your gaze flickers up to him, then to your spread thighs. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch transfixed, your thighs itch to open wider—desperate for more than just his temptation. But admitting that means he’d win again. And you aren't in the business to see him pleased with that. So, you let your head fall back to rest against his shoulder, jaw working as you bite down on your tongue to suppress your need.

“You haven't complained yet, so I'm assuming you're trying to see how long you’ll last?” Tamsy teased, "The cold metal of his piercing makes your head spin."

“Will you shut up and put your fingers back in?” You blurt, and you hear him mutter something about it being just one finger—but it doesn't register as you feel his grip hoisting your thighs apart. His cold stare falls to the junction of your thighs while his lower right hand moves to the hem of your attire and takes hold of it. His eyes return to your heavy-lidded ones, and the fabric begins to lift.

Your sense of vulnerability causes your breathing to quicken, drawing in the thick scent of him. A wave of need crashes into you; watching his fingers slither back over you, the ropes against your body pull tighter as your shoulders twitch. You shiver and let out a soft whimper, instinctively trying to shift him closer. However, his grip on your thighs is a vise.

You watch as he slowly continues to pull your pants down, exposing your hips, then legs. His vision follows the movement with unwavering focus, eventually settling on your cunt. His gaze intensifies at the sight with unwavering interest. Pulling your underwear to the side, he watches as the wetness clings to the fabric before hooking his fingers against the damp cloth and pulling them aside.

“Deprived thing, aren’t you?” His voice is smooth as he runs his thumb along your slit. His index and middle fingers graze your wetness before he dips his fingers between your soaking folds.

You exhale with a soft whine.

Angled fingers nestle briefly inside; he drags them with leisure. In and out… the rhythm shocks your body in tandem. The first touch sends your spine jolting as you fight the urge to grind into his fingers; your knuckles curl against the rope digging into the small of your back.

Drenched in your slick, his fingers churn inside of you before withdrawing them—circling your clit in lazy circles. Tamsy watches your mouth fall agape, sadistic pride swirling in his chest. This wasn't a part of his plan, to have such a distraction as you. His nose brushes into the thick ringlets of your hair, breathing your scent in.

Arousal-coated fingers are guided back to you. Stretching you on your back, you lift your head from his shoulder to watch as he presses his fingers against your navel, then slowly drags them down to your folds, leaving a sticky trail behind.

He pauses there, his fingers poised against your entrance. Maintaining unbending eye contact. “Go on, beg me.”

Your mind races trying to pin down exactly what he said.

This wasn't supposed to be happening again; you were here for the Watchman book. You weren't here to—you don't even know what's happening anymore. But, you know it isn't supposed to happen.

His palm presses flat to your sensitive flesh as he slowly starts to press his middle finger in. Making your back arch, “Tamsy—” You quiver, and he coos at your tremble.

He slides his fingers in deep, filling your cunt completely. A cry breaks from your throat, and your forearms dig into your restraints. With bawled hands jerking to the rope for leverage, Tamay groans at the way you clench against his finger. He feels your head fall slack against his shoulder. “Little bird, I haven't even started yet and you’re already squeezing me.” He twists his finger playfully for emphasis. “Don’t tell me you are that desperate for my touch again?”

Asshole.

He still has time to make fun of you with his finger buried inside you? Of course he does. His thumb finds its way to your aching clit, and with one subtle swipe, your body reacts, hips fighting to snap up for more, though a feeble attempt to try his cords has you exactly where he wanted you. His eyes smolder at seeing you like this, unraveling for him. Yearning to be touched. And ironically enough, from the man you claim to hate.

“You’re so…” The words are lost on his tongue as his eyes find yours, half-lidded and salacious. Your eyes had always been a traitorous give. Tamsy leans in, breathing in your need as he feels you stiffen before melting into him. Easing you against him slowly, he feels the coiled spirals of your hair brush his forehead, nuzzling into him. “Tight. So tight for me, little bird.” He finishes his thought, the tease wavering into devotion.

Your gaze wavers to his lips; as if catching the cue, he leans further into you. His lips brush against your soft skin, against your own as you shudder. He's thought about kissing you again for months, and now it's happening, and Tamsy is going to savor it.

Cold metal touches your bottom lip, and tension coils in your body, shaking your shoulders. His lips press against your own, a tense, breathless kiss. Tentatively, you meet his tongue with yours, and for a moment you'd forgotten everything except the kiss, forgotten about his drenched fingertips poised at your entrance…

He snaps them in deep, filling your cunt again without hesitation.

A loud cry breaks from your throat, muffled against his lips, and you dig your restrained hands into the small of your back, the ropes creaking with your jerked movement. Your head wrenches back, your lips trembling, writhing against the stretch. Tamsy bites his cheek, containing his groan at how you feel around him. He lets out a breathless chuckle as he watches you, “Hush, now sweetheart… You're doing so well.”

He barely gives you time to adjust, letting you feel how his fingers fit into you before pulling out and pushing back in, back out, back in, back out.

Faster. Harder.

Your whines do little to curb his interest, if anything entertaining him further. His manic eyes swallow your scrunched face as he curls his fingers again; he continues driving into you, spearing you faster, setting a brutal pace.

The spectacle is so immense you feel like you’re drowning in it. In him. Your thighs tremble with the ropes coiling against the plush flesh, snapping them back in place. You whine from the ache, clamping and squeezing down on his fingers. You can hear the absurd sounds of your wetness squelching beneath his fingertips, making your ears ring and pulse around them.

Your hips buck against his curled fingers, struggling against your moans. Tamsy watches you choke on them. “Really? Fighting me still, little bird?” He grunts as he leans in. “No use in that regard. Let me hear you.” Your faces are so close, his nose almost touches yours as his intense scrutiny ravages your pleasured expression.

In an instant you rebel, shaking your head and jerking your head away. You can hear him audibly click his tongue as his closeness leaves you slightly. “Such a brat.” He forced an annoyed chuckle, punctuating the words as he drove his fingers in and out, making the burn turn into a raging inferno.

“S-Shut up,” you grunt, struggling to keep up and unable to hold his eyes any longer. You quickly turn your head away, your shallow breathing rapid as you try to contain your arousal.

“I’m getting bored with that line.” He scoffs; he looks down between your spread legs. “For a cleaner, you have poor manners.” He mentions enjoying seeing you seated.

Guiding his fingers back, he feels you flutter around them as he drags his knuckles through your folds, coating his fingers with your essence as he nudges your clit. The sensation makes you quiver as you try to arch your body into his touch, desperate for more.

“Fuck—” Catching you off guard as he pulled his hand back again, landing a smack to your slit as you cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Tamsy smiles cruelly. “I should shut that pretty little mouth of yours for good,” he purrs, dragging his thumb over your clit in dangerously slow and tight circles.

You're so close… You open your mouth, preparing for what you believe the relief of an orgasm would wash over you.

Tamsy pulls his fingers from your weeping sex, spreading them apart with his fingers so he can see the clear strings of your fluids connecting the pads of his fingers to you before he crudely slaps his hand down on your quivering pussy.

Immediately his index and middle fingertips find your clit, rubbing the pain away. He doesn’t waste time. He presses down on the pulsing nub, drawing slow, steady circles that have you crying.

“Tell me what you need,” his voice drops, becoming softer. “Use your words for me, angel.” The endearment is biting as you jerk against your restraints; your mind can't seem to function. Words bubble before fading on your tongue quickly, but the way he stares at you with a merciless fixation. He wants an answer.

“Wanna cum.” "Is all you say," breathlessly, a little unsure of yourself, and loathing the need in your tone.

“Oh? That's what you want. For me to make you cum?” He pesters, reveling in your desire as he grins with manic thrill; basking in the sight of you, he leans in closer. His head dipped down to get a better look at your crumbled pride. The way your eyes droop, glossy with tears, and your lips are bitten and bruised. “Could you be more helpless?” he mocks.

You hate him. It's annoying how he had this ability to have you completely at his mercy with the slightest of touches, your body caving completely with barely any contact.

You whined, fresh tears clinging to your lashes as you tried to close your thighs, the rope too tight. His fingers deliberately push your pelvis as he continues his movements, building up the pressure inside you.

Your hips twitch, trying to shift back and forth in tandem with the motion of his fingers. 

He hummed, “That’s it, sweetheart. Show me how much you like that.”

Vexingly enough, his praise motivated you as your hips buck slightly, the pain of the rope exhilarating now. You nod eagerly, unable to form words, earning you a devious smile that makes you clench. His movements start to sway in sync with yours as he adds more pressure, fingers moving faster.

Low in your stomach, a warmth coils and constricts, tightening in anticipation.

With no warning, he gives your overstimulated clit another small swat that almost knocks you out but instead has you convulsing under him.

Your inner walls pulsate around nothing, your clit throbbing. Your head feels as if it were engulfed by the sea; disoriented, your head tips back as your restrained hands dig into your body with such intensity that your nails dig into the small of your back. 

“D-don’t stop, don’t stop,” you babble, eyes rolling back as you grind your hips into his wet fingers.

“Desperate little whore,” he teased, nuzzling his face into your neck; his piercing grazes your clavicle. He licks away sweat that beads there, fingers working faster, strumming back and forth against your sensitive nub. Something wet splatters and drips onto the floor below you.

The sound of your wetness gushing onto him and you and to your inner thighs is so loud. You can hear him laughing at your descent, and your gaze snaps toward him. “Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart. If anything, you should thank me; you've been pent up,” he mumbles as he kisses below your ear. 

“Fuck, I hate you!” You whine.

The pleasure you denied yourself for so long crashes down on you. On a deep guttural moan, your orgasm rips you apart violently as you choke against the sounds.

“Tamsy!” His name coming from your lips is depraved, and he responds with a low hum.

“I’m here, little bird,” he coos, observing how effortlessly you fall apart.

Your head spins, your hand tightens around the bind's nails digging into skin. As everything surges and rises, your cunt clenches.

He withdraws his fingers from your clit slowly, watching slick tendrils cling to him. He bites back a snort as he places his fingers flat on his palm, slightly nestling his knuckles against your quivering pussy. The way you throb and pulse for him makes his fingers clench as he watches you jerk into it, rolling your hips.

“So cute. See, you were just pent up.” His voice is saccharine and crude, which makes you grind harder against him. Mesmerized by your undulating hips, he starts rubbing his palm into the wet release pooling at your entrance.

You can’t stop moaning, can’t stop shaking. Both of your bodies writhe together, milking your release. Your breathing labored as his fan against your skin.

Slowly, your hips relax, his palm stops rubbing, and both of you become still.

Silence envelops his room, broken only by the sound of breathing.

“Shit.” You huff, your voice hoarse as your head falls back. His shoulder no longer buffers you; your back arches as your blood pools to your head. “What are you doing?” you pant, watching as he steps away from you and moves throughout his room.

His footsteps are wordless as he reaches for a familiar worn volume at his bookshelf, flipping through various pages before one he's grown accustomed to using peeks through. He glances at it before looking at you. “Nothing.” He lies, obviously.

Your eyes widen as you catch the upside-down logo, a set of two rings, the inner one branded by 3 circles, and the outer one by three triangles. You haul your head up. “You better not—” You threaten as he steps closer to you.

Maybe he's going to burn you a little bit. It isn't his fault that he has to do this to you; after all, you’re the one who flew too close to the sun. He's only protecting you from sticking your nose too far; besides, if he's planning on letting you get close, then he shouldn't allow it. He might as well keep you obedient. Many people do worse things for love; after all, his acts are… sensible.

“yeah but sl- slo- ohhhh!” your eyes flutter shut again at the slow drag out and the rough thrust back in. 

he’s slowed down but his new tempo has you feeling him so much deeper. he’s eyes are roaming all over your face, down your tummy, lingering on the bulge he makes with every push in. he lets one of your legs settle round his waist to press his hand to your lower tummy, feeling his thrusts. 

“feel me in here?” he presses down. 

“gen!” your hand flies to his wrist. 

“it’s good, huh?” he doesn’t even look up at you, just lets his thumb lower and circle around your clit. 

your nails are biting into his skin, pussy hugging so sweetly around him, whimpers curling around his ears. his eyes catch on the strings of slick connecting you both and his hips snap into yours. you let out a loud moan and he snaps into you again. 

“know you can take it, baby. please? f’me?” his brows are scrunched as he starts to build up momentum again. 

“mhmmm” you nod your head. 

“fuck so perfect.” he’s pounding into you again, thumb rubbing furiously over your sensitive clit. “taking it so good, so fucking good.” his voice cracking. “cum baby, i can feel it.” he nods his head, eyes squeezed shut, hips repeatedly hammering into you. 

the moment your velvet walls pulse around him he falls to his elbows and starts humping into you animalisticly. he’s panting against your cheek, hair tickling against your slick skin, grunts flooding straight into your ear. you wrap your arms around his back, fingers digging into his shoulders trying to hold him closer. 

“perfect. missed you s’much. gonna- gonna- ” he whines. “gonna cum.” 

you bury your hands in his hair and drag his mouth to yours. you push your tongue into his mouth and he groans, pleasure snapping as he starts to pump his cum into you in thick ropes. 

“missed you. love you. lemme stay.” he mumbles into your mouth still rolling his hips. “baby, i- ” he hiccups. 

“shh gen.” you curl your fingers in his hair and start to kiss down the side of his neck. “missed you too. love you too.” his hips jerk into yours. “course you can stay where else would you go?” you let out a breathy giggle. 

“meant inside.” he buries his head in your neck. “please, just wanna feel you n maybe.. fuck you again.” you feel his wet eyelashes against your warm skin. 

“or..” you pet his hair. “want me to ride you baby? hm?” 

“yes, please yes.” he’s nodding his head and flipping you both. 

                                      ♡  ♡  ♡

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

                                      masterlist

You’re in trouble. 

Gen always said you had a knack for getting yourself into situations. You always got in trouble back in school because one student would act up and make a mess, escaping in time, leaving you as the only person for the teacher to catch. Or, someone would break something in a store, and you’d be the unsuspecting customer to happen to walk down the aisle the same time the manager comes by to investigate. In a pay-it-forward chain, you naturally get stuck in front of the person with a 10-people group order, and you’ve always been too kindhearted (and people pleasing) to break the chain… 

Needless to say, it isn’t that you have a knack for getting yourself into trouble. It’s just that you always happen to find yourself at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

In your defense, your neighborhood isn’t just relatively safe — it’s as safe as can be. Gen’s the one who vetted it out for you in the first place, still a little annoyed that his little sister wants to play at being independent. Do you know how dangerous it is for a young woman to live alone in this city? He told you, before complaining that you’re one of the biggest headaches in his life. 

He says this, but he’s the one who patrolled your neighborhood for the two weeks leading up to you moving in. He’s the one who scaled the apartment complex and made sure the security measures were up to par. He’s the one who accessed all records of nearby kaiju attacks and took in the statistical data with careful consideration before finally agreeing that you could live here. You know your older brother cares. It’s why you always try to practice caution in your everyday life. The last thing you want is to be an inconvenience for him. 

This, you think nervously, goes a bit beyond a mere inconvenience. 

Right in front of the gates of your well-protected, super-safe luxury apartment complex is a kaiju. 

And while you and Gen might share the same genes, there are some differences between you and your older brother. The most important one right now being the fact that while he’s the captain of the First Division in the Defense Force, you’re just a civilian. 

A civilian who always finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

You’re not sure how long the monster’s been here, nor are you going to bother sticking around to find out. You have no clue when the Defense Force is going to dispatch, and you happen to be the only unlucky soul outside right now. The kaiju’s already detected your presence, and you fumble for the bracelet on your wrist, searching desperately for the emergency button on the wristband. Gen had gotten this custom-made for you. The minute you activate the button, Gen’s notified of your location. It’s an in-case-of-emergency-only, and you’ve never felt the need to use it before. Until now.

You take a few steps back, almost stumbling on the pavement, palming at your bracelet, letting out a sigh of relief as you find the tiny button. And then your heart drops as you realize just how bad your luck is.

The button’s jammed. 

Because of course it would be. 

Because you just always have to constantly be in trouble, don’t you? 

The last thing you can think about before your impending doom is that you hope Gen won’t be too upset. Everyone thinks your older brother is childish and sometimes hard to deal with, but you know him best. If only you were a bit more like him; maybe then you wouldn’t feel so resigned to your fate.

“[Name]? Whaddya doin’?” Casually dropping by — no, literally dropping onto the pavement — is none other than Third Division Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina. 

On one hand, you’re happy he’s here. You are definitely not dying today. On the other hand… Why did it have to be him of all people? It’s one thing to have a near-death experience, but to have it in front of your longtime crush? You honestly wished the kaiju got a hit on you. Nothing fatal; just enough to have you in a coma, or better yet, turn you into an amnesiac so you never have to relive this moment in your memories. 

“H-Hoshina?” You squeak out. He gives you a concerned look before turning all of his attention to the kaiju, brandishing his swords in one swift, fluid movement. 

You’ve seen footage of Hoshina fighting before, even going out of your way to search up news footage of the Third Division’s missions just to catch a glimpse of the Vice Captain. You’re used to the way Gen fights; hard and fast, sometimes a bit flashy. He’s hard to miss when he’s hauling his almost cartoonishly big bayonet attached to his massive rifle. Maybe it’s crush bias, but you admire the way Hoshina fights. With him, he’s all lithe muscle and agility. There’s a sort of beauty to the way he fights, moving like a dancer, every arc and stroke of his twin blades purposeful. 

Despite the size of the beast in front of you, a muscular mass of pink and purple flesh, Hoshina makes quick work of it. So quick, in fact, that he doesn’t think to consult the command and support center as he digs his blades into its body, landing fatal cuts that take down the kaiju—

—and allowing its massive body to emit a strange violet gas that quickly starts to spread all over the scene. The scent of it is sickeningly sweet, and it overwhelms you.

Eyes wide, Hoshina sprints to your side, tugging at his own mask as if he’s about to force you to put it on, but you shake your head. You’re coughing, inhaling the mysterious vapor the now-dead kaiju is emitting, but you feel fine enough to start walking to the gate of your apartment.

“Fuck.” Hoshina curses, rushing to your side, gripping your left arm as you finish punching in the gate code. “Hey, are you hurt anywhere? D’you feel weird, funny, anything?” 

His concern for you is making you feel embarrassed, but it’s not like that’s the answer he’s searching for. 

“I’m fine, really.” You force a smile. “I’m safe now, all thanks to you. I’m sure Gen’s going to have a lot to say about this.” You roll your eyes, trying to lighten the mood, but Hoshina’s red eyes are staring deep into your own. He’s not laughing. In fact, this is one of the rare moments where you’ve ever seen the Vice Captain so serious. 

“Let me walk ya up to your apartment, at least. Just in case somethin’ happens.” 

You want to tell him that you’re pretty sure there’s no other kaijus lurking around in the hallway of your complex, ready to strike, but you can tell he’s stubborn. And besides, later at night, when you’re all alone and falling asleep to fantasies about a world where Soshiro Hoshina likes you just as much as you like him, you’ll romanticize the fuck out of him being so concerned for your safety.

Because at the end of the day, it’s Hoshina’s job to protect the defenseless citizens like you. He’d do this for any other person who has bad luck like you. It’s not like he’s walking you back, concerned for your safety, purely because it’s you.

Following your string of bad luck is the fact that the elevators are currently out of order. Fantastic.

You turn to him. “Um, I don’t really think walking up almost a dozen flight of stairs is in your job description. You can just leave me here, really! I’ll even call my brother, just in case you think something bad might happen to me in the five minutes you leave me alone.” 

“Don’t be silly, Junior.” This time, Hoshina does flash you his normal, teasing smile. The one that you fell head over heels for back on the primary school playground. The gesture is enough to make you almost ignore the way he brings up that stupid nickname. Junior. Narumi Junior — that’s who you are to him. His rival’s annoying little sister, always faithfully trailing behind her older brother, never saying a word when Gen starts throwing insults his way. “Just ‘cause I’m not captain of the First Division doesn’t mean I can’t handle a few flight of stairs. Ya doubtin’ me?” 

You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. Hoshina’s just being nice, you tell yourself. And you have to keep repeating this mantra in your head as you dutifully follow a step behind him on the stairs. 

You’ve noticed it before, but you’ve never been this close up ‘til now. Hoshina’s uniform fits him very well. The black fabric of the suit only serves to emphasize the lean muscles he’s spent years training, his Defense Force-issued boots only serve to announce every step he takes, even the gas mask he wears to protect himself — all of it just suits him so well. 

You try to ignore the flicker of heat lighting up your core, something a little bit more intense than the little flutter of butterflies you normally get when you’re next to Hoshina. You just have to make it back to your apartment, you reason. You’ll make it back to your apartment, and you can lay down on your bed, and then you’ll have all the time in the world to think about how nice Hoshina looks in his uniform, and how special you feel that he’s personally escorting you home. 

But the growing heat within you becomes harder to ignore, and you can’t quite control your labored breaths, not from the walk upstairs but from the fact that you truly do feel hot. Hot, and dizzy, and downright desperate for some relief. Something isn’t right, you realize. And Hoshina catches on quick, too, especially when your knees buckle and you nearly fall until he catches you in his arms. 

He says your name so seriously, you’re almost snapped out of whatever weird daze you’re in. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” His eyes scan your weakened body before pulling you closer to him. In a second, he’s lifting you up, carrying you bridal style as he starts to sprint up the stairs. You know there’s a time and place for everything, but you can’t help but admire the fact that Hoshina can carry you while running up several stories and he’s not even breaking a sweat. 

The thought of this makes your core grow warmer, and you wriggle a bit in his hold. 

“We’re almost to your apartment, don’t worry.” He reassures you, tightening his grip on you. Hoshina is holding you so close to him that with every inhale, you breathe him in. He smells of musky cologne and something familiar from your childhood, like mochi and other sweets. It’s a funny mix, but it suits him. You find yourself snuggling even closer to him, and if you were in your right state of mind, you would be screaming at yourself for being so bold. But the heat inside of you, it’s seeking him out. 

“I need your key, [Name].” He tells you, and despite the way he’s clearly in a rush, he’s still patient and sweet with you. 

You shamelessly bury the front of your face into his chest, trying to avoid him as you admit, “I must’ve dropped it.” 

He swears, but it’s not at you. “That’s okay.” He tells you, even though you’re proving to be a very inconvenient girl. “Hey, who pays for this apartment?” 

“Gen.” You sheepishly admit. You offered to pay the rent, but he’s the one who chose the insanely expensive penthouse for you. One of you is making a Captain-level salary, and it’s damn sure not you. It only makes sense he’d cover rent. 

“Good.” Hoshina says, before promptly kicking open your door.

And again, time and place for everything, but you can’t help but get a little too excited at his show of strength. 

Hoshina sets you down gently on your bed, frowning as he takes you in. 

“What’s the matter? You need to tell me how you’re feelin’, or else I can’t help you, okay?” 

Hoshina’s being so gentle with you, it’s enough to make your heart soar and ache all at once. He leans down, pressing a cool hand to your forehead. You must feel normal enough, because he doesn’t make a comment, even though you feel like you’re burning up. 

You know what’s the matter. 

You want Soshiro Hoshina in a way a woman wants a man. 

“...hot…” You finally mutter out, squirming on top of your sheets. “I‘m hot.” 

“Hot?” Hoshina’s confused for a few seconds, until he watches the way you press your thighs together, your tiny fingers tugging at your clothes, the way you bite down on the bottom of your lip before peering up at him curiously, trying to see if he understands you. 

It hits him all at once. A kaiju that’s a blend of pink and purple, the sweet scent its gas emitted. This is a rare type of kaiju; the one that boosts one’s pheromones, turns its victim delirious with lust. The only way to help, really, is for the affected person to be truly satiated. 

He knows it’s wrong to think of Narumi’s little sister like this, but Hoshina would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about you writhing on a bed, wantonly calling out his name, begging for him to give you relief that you can’t find from anyone else. He dreams about it, really. Not just the sex, but everything that encompasses taking care of you. He wants to make sure that you’re always well taken care of, always safe, always protected. This isn’t the Third Divison’s territory, y’know. But between patrol breaks, Hoshina finds himself around your neighborhood just on the off chance that something bad happens. It’s a good thing he was there today. 

And it’s his lucky day, he thinks, that he’s here with you now.

No other man would treat you as well. No other man would be able to satiate you.

“Let me help you, baby.” The pet name rolls off easily on his tongue. He’s so used to teasing you, careful to avoid saying your name too much. He saves his reverent groans of your name for when he’s pumping his cock in the darkness of his room. “I know exactly what you need.” 

“Hoshina.” You moan out, and he swallows hard at how desperate you sound for him. “I need you so bad.”

“It’s the kaiju.” He mutters, getting on the bed with you, balancing himself on his knees. He’s towering over you from this angle, and you look up at him. “The kaiju’s gas acts as a… bit of a sex pollen, really. And I can help ya combat the effects, but I— I can’t take advantage of ya. You’re Narumi’s precious lil’ sister. It’d be wrong.” He’s trying to talk some sense, but you’re immediately frowning. 

“Nuh uh.” You whine out, pouting. And it’s thanks to the kaiju that you have lowered your inhibitions, because you would never admit this out loud otherwise. “I always want Vice Captain Hoshina like this.” 

Fuck. You know just how to drive a man crazy.

“Usin’ my title?” He grins, leaning down to get his face closer to yours. “Good girl. Ya mind your manners, don’t ya?” 

And he rewards you with a kiss. 

The kiss turns hungry, desperate. You’re tilting your head up a bit to try to capture his lips some more, even though the two of you are already as close as can be. You two are a mess of tongue and teeth by the time you have to struggle for oxygen, and as he reluctantly pulls back, there’s even a thin string of saliva still connecting the two of you. 

“So, ya always wanted me, huh?” The thought that the girl of his dreams could possibly want him as much as he wants her turns him on like nothing else. He must be dreaming, he decides. And then he thinks, he doesn’t fucking care if this is a dream or not. If he gets to fuck you boneless, then he trusts in himself to never wake up. “Whaddya like about me so much?” 

He’s just teasing you now. He’s always teasing you. It’s what he’s good at. You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you shyly admit, “I’ve always liked you. Even before you got the fancy uniform and your rank. You’re funny and sweet and you care about others.” Even in your sex-focused mind, the genuine feelings you harbor for Hoshina shine through. This catches him off guard. 

You might be under the effects of the kaiju’s vapor, but the sweet girl he’s fallen for is still laying down right underneath him. It’s not just lust for you. There’s genuine love.

“Fuck, I’m gonna treat you so well.” He peppers kisses all over your face; your cheeks, your eyelids, your jawline, teasing you ‘til he finally, finally, plants a kiss on your swollen lips again. 

He makes quick work of your clothes, committing the sight of your bare body to his memory. He tells you you’re beautiful, and he means it. You want to tell him to stop trying to charm you, but then he’s immediately going down on you, digging his fingers into the plush of your thighs as he spreads them apart, forcing you to open yourself up to him.

You’re caught off guard, but your body screams in relief as you watch Hoshina get eye-level with your cunt. He licks his lips before glancing up at you. 

“Such a cute pussy my lil’ civvie baby has.” Civvie — Hoshina never lets you forget that you’re a civilian, but you don’t know it yet (you will, eventually), but Hoshina’s never actually been bothered about this fact. Actually, he takes pride in the idea that he’ll be the one to take care of you, the one to keep you safe. 

Right now, though, he’s tasked with being the one who makes sure you’re satiated.

You have the prettiest pussy Hoshina’s ever, and as his mouth descends onto your waiting heat, he determines that you’ve got the sweetest taste, too. You let out cute, little mewls that only motivate him to devour you some more, and he groans into your pussy as he laps at your arousal, your juices seeming to never stop flowing. 

Your body arches up, and Hoshina has to apply pressure to his grip on your thighs, to force you back down so he can continue licking at your cunt at his own hungry pace. When bucking your hips fails, you find yourself losing control of your body, your legs spasming, your thighs clamping down on his head. Your fingers tangle themselves into the thick, dark strands of Hoshina’s hair, and he thinks you’re trying to suffocate him with your pussy.

What a way to go, honestly. 

He manages to lift his head up, cheeks flushed from the heat in between your thighs, chin and lips wet with your juices. “Ahh.” He smacks his lips, licking up traces of your slick that his tongue can reach. “My civvie has the sweetest pussy in the world.” He inserts a finger into your wet hole, and you literally yelp. Your walls hungrily clamp down on his single digit, and he laughs. 

“D’ya want more?” He sounds innocent enough, almost as if he isn’t leisurely fucking you with one finger. “‘Cause I can give ya more. All ya have to do is ask.”

“Pl-ease.” The word comes out in broken syllables. You clutch at his bicep, nails digging into the material of his combat suit. It’s because he still has his uniform on that he can’t really feel you. 

“Who are ya askin’?” He teases, pumping his finger at the same agonizingly slow pace he’s been giving you. You keep clenching around him, your body making it obvious who you’re hungry for. 

“I-I’m asking Vice Captain Hos— Soshiro.”

You say his title, and he feels himself tightening in his combat suit. You say his name, and his heart nearly skips a beat.

Oh, he’ll give you everything he’s got, now.

The intrusion of three fingers inside your cunt catches you off guard, and he swallows up that shocked moan of yours by slotting his mouth against yours, kissing you with a vigorous passion that has you realizing that maybe Soshiro just might like you back. 

He spreads his fingers while they’re buried deep inside your cunt, trying to desperately stretch out your pussy, get you nice and wet and ready to take his cock. 

“Ah! Wait! No, ‘Shiro, please!” You protest as he pulls his fingers out, licking and savoring the taste of your essence. You were about to cum, and he knew it. 

He plants a rather chaste kiss on your forehead before telling you, “You hafta ask me to cum, okay? Can my little civvie baby get that in her head?” 

You nod weakly, sniffling a bit as you’re disappointed from your stolen orgasm. 

“Hey,” he taps on your cunt gently, but with just enough firm pressure to make you understand you have to look at him, to listen to his commands. “When your Vice Captain tells ya somethin’, ya need to answer. Where’s my baby’s manners?” 

“S-sorry, Vice Captain.” You look up at him, teary-eyed. “Can I please cum?” 

“Aw, you’re askin’ me so sweetly, it’s hard to say no to you.” But from the familiar mischievous glint in his eyes, it’s clear what his answer is. “But today, you’re only gonna be able to cum all over my cock.” 

Hoshina makes no effort to take off his clothes fully. The uniform that you admire him in is only being pulled out of the way rather than completely off. Hoshina messes with the bottom half, pulling at the suit until he can free his cock. He’s already hard, and he pumps his cock a few times, using the fingers covered in his spit and your slick to act as lube. 

“See how hard your Vice Captain is? My little civvie got me all fired up.” There’s a feral, crazed look in his eyes as he stares down at you, at how your legs are spread and your pussy is so wet. “This is what you wanted the whole time, huh? You wanted to be stuffed full of my cock. Poor baby.” His tone is mocking, but it only makes your hole clench at nothing. You’re so heartbreakingly empty of him that you’ll do anything to make sure he gives you what he promised. “I know, you must be all hot and bothered right now. Pussy so empty, waitin’ for me, huh?” 

You nod, tears streaming down your face. Hoshina chuckles at the sight. He hasn’t even fucked you properly yet, and you’re already a mess. Fuck, he loves you so much. 

When he presses the tip of his cock to your entrance, your pussy is instantly swallowing him up, greedy for more of him. So he gives in, because the two of you have clearly been wanting and waiting for this for so long, why bother dragging it out any further?

“A-ah.” Your legs are trembling as your pussy engulfs more and more of Hoshina’s thick cock. “It’s too big.” You whine out, more tears falling as you take him in completely, his whole entire cock buried deep inside of you, throbbing impatiently, insisting that he pins you down and fucks you hard and fast.

“It’ll be okay.” He reassures you, rubbing comforting circles on your hip. “I’ll make ya feel so good. Ya just gotta relax for me, baby. Remember? You’re the one who wanted this so badly.” He coos, moving his hand to rub at your clit, the little nub hardening for him. “Good girl, atta girl, that’s my precious civvie. Doin’ so good for me; I knew you would.” He praises you when he feels you start to move your hips a bit, begging for movement now, and he kisses your cheek when he feels your pussy yielding to his cock. “I’m going to fuck you now, baby.” 

He doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“You feel so good.” He grunts this directly in your ear, which rewards him with a cute little whimper from you, and the feel of your pussy clamping down on him, tightening and preening at the praise. He’s holding himself up by his elbows, his face so close to your own as he fucks you, just like how he promised he would. It’s sweetly intimate this way, and you love it. He can tell.

“Your pussy feels so good around my cock. So tight. So fuckin’ wet.” His thrusts are deep, powerful. His cock seems to reach into the depths of your pussy, and you don’t think you’ll ever recover. You don’t think you want to. 

You curl your arms around his neck, bringing him even closer to you. Your string of moans and broken sobs of his name haven’t stopped flowing from your lips, and the pleasure is so overwhelming, so good, so Hoshina. You don’t realize what he’s planning on doing until it’s too late. He licks at the soft skin between your shoulder and neck, deciding which spot he wants to mark up first, before taking his sharp canines, the ones you love so much, and digging them deep into your flesh. 

“Ah!” The pain bleeds in with the pleasure. The sting of his bite is heightened when he nuzzles your neck with his nose endearingly, almost as an apology, before he bites down in a different spot. Marking his territory. 

It feels so good in such a foreign way, you forget what your Vice Captain told you. If you want to cum, you have to ask. But he’s making you feel so good, your climax comes without warning. Your walls tighten up around him, and he can feel you, can feel you creaming around his cock like the dirty, disobedient girl you are.

“What did I tell ya?” He growls, looking down at where the two of you are connected. He pulls out a bit, just to stare at the ring of white encircling his cock. “Hm?” He takes a hand to grab at your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Is my little civvie so fucked dumb her brain doesn’t work anymore? I thought I told ya that if you wanted to cum, you better ask my permission.”

“I’m s-sorry!” You gasp out. “B-but you made me feel… Felt too good, I didn’t know I was going to!” You’re crying again now, and he almost feels bad. Instead, he likes this power he has over you, and he’s back to being his usual, teasing and mocking self. 

“Aw, did I break you?” He coos sweetly, pounding into your pussy with a fervor he hasn’t exhibited before. Your eyes widen when you realize he still has on his combat suit. He’s drawing out his strength from the suit, using it to fuck into you even harder. “S’okay, baby. No need to cry. I’m not mad at ya.” 

His hips stutter when he’s ready to finish. His thrusts falter in its usual pinpoint precise movements, and he drags your body towards him, pushing you deep onto his cock as he groans out your name. The heat of his cum fills your twitching, sensitive cunt, and you think you could probably cum again just from the pleasure of having Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina fill you up. 

“Ah, fuck.” He breathes out, leaning his forehead against your own, panting a bit, his chest rising and falling. “You drive me crazy, ya know that?” 

You let out a weak giggle, equally breathless. Your mind feels a lot clearer now, the heat within you subsiding greatly. You wrap your legs around his slim waist, refusing to let him go even though he refuses to leave you in the first place. He looks like he’s about to say something until a familiar, booming voice comes from the front of your apartment.

“[Name]?” Gen calls out, his footsteps indicating that he’s coming closer. “[Name], where are you?” 

Your eyes widen in shock and fear, the cute afterglow of the moment officially ruined, all thanks to your annoying older brother. Hoshina is quick when he pulls the covers of your bed over your naked body, and he’s adjusting his combat suit as Gen makes it to your bedroom. 

You shut your eyes, not wanting to witness the expression on your brother’s face.

it hadn’t even been a real fight. nothing explosive. no yelling. just a stupid disagreement that grew teeth because neither of you wanted to back down. you’d eaten dinner on opposite sides of the dorm common area, went to bed turned away from each other, limbs stiff, pride burning hotter than the blankets.

and now, standing shoulder to shoulder on the crowded train, neither of you moves first.

megumi reaches up for a strap.

you don’t step closer.

instead, you brace yourself against the pole near the door, jaw set, eyes forward. the train sways again, harder this time, and you wobble, just slightly, but you catch yourself.

you feel his attention shift instantly.

another lurch. closer. sharper.

your shoulder knocks into his chest.

his hand comes out of instinct, fingers closing around your arm before you even register losing balance.

you huff and pull away immediately, “i can do it myself.” you mutter, glaring at him like it’s his fault gravity exists. because at this point it might as well be

megumi’s mouth tightens. “couldn’t tell.”

he lets go.

that hurts more than you expect. because you wanted him to insist on holding onto you.

the train slows to a stop, doors sliding open with a hiss as a cluster of people shove their way out. they’re laughing, careless, not looking where they’re going. one shoulder slams into you, then another.

you stumble forwards, skidding on your feet. but before you can hit the floor, megumi’s there.

this time, you don’t have the chance to protest.

his grip is solid, arm braced around your waist, the other steadying your elbow. you cling for half a second longer than necessary, heart racing, embarrassment flushing hot up your neck.

the group doesn’t even stop.

one of them snickers.

megumi looks up.

his expression goes cold. dark eyes narrowed, jaw clenched so hard you can see the muscle jump.

“watch where you’re going,” he snaps.

the laughter dies immediately.

they don’t respond. they don’t apologise. they just hurry off the train as the doors close again. he can see them through the window cackling like it was the funniest thing ever.

megumi watches them go with tense shoulders, fury simmering just under the surface. he exhales through his nose once.

then he looks around the carriage, spots an empty seat, and guides you toward it with a hand between your shoulders.

“sit.”

you want to argue.

but don’t.

you sink into the seat with another irritated huff, folding in on yourself, arms crossed tight as you stare down at your hands. your fingers are still trembling, though you’re not sure if it’s from the stumble or the fight or the fact that he caught you anyway.

megumi doesn’t move to take a more comfortable spot.

instead he plants himself right in front of you, arm braced against the window behind your head, body angled protectively despite himself. like he’s daring the train to try something again.

you don’t look up. even if you want to because he probably looks way too good like this.

then you feel your bag shift.

you blink, confused, as he lifts it from your lap and unzips it without asking.

“h-hey—” you start.

he ignores you, rummaging once before pulling something out.

a protein bar.

he presses it into your hands.

you stare at it, then at him, “when did you—”

“you didn’t eat breakfast.” he says flatly.

your mouth opens. closes.

he’s right.

you’d spent too long standing in front of the mirror with your curling iron, replaying the argument in your head, muttering all the clever comebacks you didn’t think of last night. time slipped. you came out with perfectly bouncy curls but no time left to eat.

you scowl anyway, “shut up.”

you tear the wrapper open and take a bite, chewing more aggressively than necessary.

megumi looks away, eyes on the reflection in the window. “there’s yoghurt in there too.”

you pause mid-chew. your eyes shoot up to his, "so you think i eat too much." it's an accusation. not a question.

he sighs, exhausted at this point, pinching his nose bridge, “yeah.” he says sarcastically.

you almost laugh, because you missed annoying him like this. you swallow, throat tight. “…thanks.”

he doesn’t respond, but when you glance up, just for a second, you catch it; the smallest curve of a smile, adoring and fond, gone the moment you notice.

ଳ i. yuuji

tending to your training wounds

yuuji doesn’t look at you while you train.

neither do you. you're busy. punching.

the gym echoes with the dull, rhythmic thud of fists hitting leather. yours hit harder than necessary—sharp, angry strikes that rattle the chains holding the bag. every punch lands with something extra behind it, frustration bleeding through your knuckles, your shoulders, your breath.

yuuji notices.

of course he does.

he’s on the other side of the room, working another bag, movements usually loose and energetic now stiff and off-tempo. his punches are strong, but unfocused. like he’s holding back from putting too much thought into it. like if he does, he might walk over to you and say something stupid.

again.

and make it worse.

so he doesn’t.

neither of you say a word when training ends.

you peel your gloves off with a scowl, fingers already sore, skin red and tender. yuuji wipes sweat from his neck, sneaks a glance at your hands, then quickly looks away when you catch him.

the walk out of the gym is quiet.

too quiet.

normally he’d be yapping about how hungry he is, or how he definitely nailed that last combo, or asking if you wanna grab food after you've retreated to the showers. now there’s just the hum of the vending machines and the soft squeak of your shoes against the floor.

he stops suddenly.

you keep walking for half a step before realizing he’s not beside you anymore. your head snaps back, annoyed. “what.”

“uh... hold on.” he scratches the back of his head, already digging into his pocket.

you watch him punch in the code on the vending machine. coins clink, one drink drops. then another. then he crouches and pulls out a paper cup, filling it with ice from the dispenser nearby.

he hands you your favourite drink first without thinking, wedging his own between his side and his arm while he makes sure the lid of the ice cup is shut tight.

you stare at it. “what’s that for.”

he finally looks at you.

his eyes are soft and worried and a little sad around the edges.

“your hands,” he says quietly.

you scoff. “they’re fine.”

he steps closer anyway.

gently, he takes your wrists, thumbs barely brushing your skin like he’s afraid you’ll pull away, before pressing the cup carefully against your knuckles.

you hiss despite yourself. the skin's broken and raw from the friction of your knuckles and the inside of the gloves. of course, the gloves were supposed to prevent this from happening. but there wasn't really much they could do when you were punching so hard your humerus rattled inside you.

“see?” he murmurs in response to the small wince of pain on your face, “not fine.”

you want to yank your hands back. say something snippy. keep the wall up just a little longer.

but the way he’s holding you; carefully apologetic, like he’s trying to fix something without knowing how—makes your shoulders sag, a little with guilt and a lot with adoration. he's really cute like this.

you let in, allowing him to tend to your wound.

he presses the ice a little more firmly, eyes flicking between your face and your hands. “you looked really cool,” he says, trying to lighten your mood. “i thought that bag was gonna start crying.”

you snort before you can stop yourself.

he smiles a little at that. relieved.

“you’re not supposed to take it out on yourself,” he adds, quieter now.

you look away. “…i wasn’t.”

he doesn’t argue.

he just nods, like he knows better but won’t push. his grip stays steady, grounding. the cold numbs the sting in your knuckles, and with it, some of the tension curling tight in your chest.

“i hate fighting with you,” he admits suddenly.

you glance back at him.

his shoulders slump, like the words weigh something. “i never know what to do. i don’t wanna make it worse. but i also don’t wanna ignore you.” he laughs softly, awkward. “i’m bad at this.”

“yeah,” you mutter, “i know.”

he winces. then chuckles. “i deserve that.”

the silence settles again— but this time it’s different. softer. easier.

after a moment, he exhales, long and dramatic. “thanks for not turning me into the punching bag.”

you finally meet his eyes. they're hurt, but there's a hint of hope in them.

“…you’re lucky,” you say. “i considered it.”

he grins, bright and familiar. “i knew it.”

he keeps holding your hands until the ice melts down into the cup, until the wounds start to scab and stop aching so much.

and when he finally lets go, he stays close—like he’s making sure you don’t drift too far away again.

ଳ n. kento

making you sleep instead of doomscrolling

the room is dark and quiet, save for the low hum of the heater and the steady rhythm of nanami’s breathing beside you.

it’s been two hours since the fight.

not a dramatic one. no raised voices. just clipped sentences and carefully chosen words that still managed to bruise. enough to leave you lying stiffly on your side of the bed, back turned to him, arms tucked close to your chest like you might fold in on yourself if you don’t hold tight.

nanami is asleep.

at least, you think he is.

he lies on his back, glasses placed neatly on the bedside table, one arm resting where you usually curl into him. his face is calm. peaceful, strong chest rising and falling deeply. like nothing’s wrong. like he doesn’t care that you’re still wide awake, chest tight, eyes burning as you scroll mindlessly through your phone.

like he doesn't care that you're still sad. cold. lonely. wanting to be held and comforted.

the blue light stings. it hurts to blink.

you’re not even reading anything. just letting the screen fill the silence so you don’t have to think.

you’re halfway through another dumb cat video when the phone is suddenly lifted from your hands.

“hey!—” you protest, startled.

the screen goes black.

nanami places it on the bedside table with quiet finality, face still turned toward the ceiling.

before you can protest, his other hand comes up, broad palm covering your eyes, blocking out the dim glow of the room.

“sleep,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with drowsiness.

you freeze.

“…you were awake?”

“i am now.”

his arm slips around your waist, firm and unyielding, tugging you back against his chest where you belong

you squirm weakly, “i’m not tired.”

his hand stays over your eyes, thumb brushing once over your brow. grounding. warm, “you are.”

you huff, “you don’t get to decide that.”

“i do,” he replies simply. “it’s past midnight. you have an early morning.”

that almost makes you smile.

your shoulders sag despite yourself.

he shifts closer, breath warm against the back of your neck. his voice drops, softer now. “we can finish talking in the morning. when you’re rested.”

you swallow. “what if i’m still mad.”

“then you’ll be mad after eight hours of sleep.”

his logic is infuriating. as usual.

you’re quiet for a long moment, listening to his heartbeat, steady and reassuring. the hand over your eyes relaxes, fingers threading gently through your hair instead, slow and careful like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again.

“…i'm cold,” you murmur, barely audible and a little whiny.

he breathes out a small laugh, “come.”

you shift closer to him, and he lets you snuggle while he pulls the covers fully around you, tucking them snugly under your chin and back so no cool air can sneak under.

"do you want another blanket?" he offers, ready to get up and go down the hall to the linen cabinet at your call.

you shake your head, hand curling into the fabric of his shirt, "no. stay."

he smiles fondly, "i'm here."

you let out a shaky breath, the last of the tension bleeding out of you as exhaustion finally wins. your eyes close beneath his hand. your body melts back into his, fitting where it always does.

nanami presses a brief kiss to the crown of your head.

“sleep,” he repeats, quieter this time.

and this time, you do.

ଳ g. satoru

keeping you warm in the snow

the argument ends stupidly.

not with closure. not with an apology. just too much ego crashing into too much ego in the narrow hallway outside his dorm, words tripping over each other until you snap and turn on your heel.

“i don’t wanna talk to you right now.”

satoru blinks, offended, then smirks infuriatingly, “aww, no?”

you don’t dignify that with a response. turn on your heel before he can remind you that he's a man anymore.

you storm outside instead, the doors whooshing shut behind you, the cold winter morning air slapping you full in the face. only then do you realise—

shit.

your jacket.

you stop for half a second. consider going back. imagine his stupid grin, the way he’d tease you for forgetting it, the way he’d act like he won something.

not happening.

you keep walking.

the track is unusually empty, lights buzzing overhead, the red and white rubber ground cold even through your shoes and socks. you plop down on the sloped grass edge, hugging your knees to your chest. your breath fogs in front of you in quick little puffs.

it’s freezing. the breeze bites your cheeks rosy.

and you’re mad.

and annoyingly, you’re kind of… really sad, actually.

your shoulders start to shake before you can stop them. you sniff hard, scrubbing at your face with the heel of your hand, mortified at yourself for crying over something so dumb.

you don’t hear him approach.

but feel it.

warmth settles over your shoulders, heavy and familiar. fabric brushing your neck. sleeves being tugged over your arms.

you stiffen.

“go... away,” you mutter weakly, not really meaning it all the way.

too late.

he’s already kneeling behind you, methodical in the most satoru way possible. your uniform jacket goes on first. then your scarf, wrapped twice and tucked in snug like he’s done this a hundred times. mittens pulled onto your hands, thumbs squeezed for good measure. lastly, your beanie, tugged down over your ears.

he hums softly, pleased with himself. “there. crisis averted.”

you turn around, glaring up at him. “i didn’t ask.”

he gasps, hand flying to his chest. “wow. i'm just trying to make sure you don't turn into a popsicle.”

“you’re being annoying.”

he grins. “and you’re being cute.”

“satoru.”

he leans closer, lowering his voice like he’s sharing a secret. “you know you get this little wrinkle right here when you’re pouting?”

he reaches out and pokes your nose.

you flinch back instinctively, swatting at his hand, “don’t touch me!” the truth is you don't care about the way he's babying you. a stupid part of you actually likes it. you just don't want him to look close and notice your watery eyes.

he laughs, bright and shameless, then stills and softens when he really looks at you. his tilts his head.

“hey,” he says, nudging your knee with his own. “i didn’t mean to upset you.”

you look away, jaw tight. “you treat everything like it’s a joke.”

he sits beside you on the cold track without a second thought, long legs stretched out. “yeah,” he admits. “and sometimes i forget you don’t always wanna be the punchline.”

that shuts you up.

he bumps your shoulder lightly. “i’m sorry. i didn't mean to make you cry. i'll do better.”

you steal a glance at him. he’s not smiling now. not really. just looking at you, waiting for a response.

“…you’re still annoying,” you mumble.

he perks up instantly. “i’ll take that.”

you huff, trying to stay mad, but the warmth he wrapped you in and the way he stays makes it hard.

he nudges your shoulder again. you're shivering. teeth chattering quietly. “c’mon. let’s go inside before you freeze.”

you stand, brushing off your pants, still refusing to look at him. he reaches out automatically, fixing your scarf where it’s slipped, brushing small snowflakes from your hair, then cradles your face in his slender fingers and rubs the last of the tears from your eyes with his thumbs, pressing his lips to your hairline gently.

you turn your head away before he can see your smile, no longer upset, but still not wanting the ego-maniac to win.

ଳ r. sukuna

making you take your medicine

you’re sick.

not the cute kind. not the “stay in bed and be babied” kind. the ugly, miserable, aching, feverish kind where everything feels too loud and your bones hurt and your head won’t stop throbbing and you feel your skull rattle every time you cough into your arm like a poorly victorian child.

and sukuna will not stop hovering. it's sweet. you know it is. you're the only one he's ever this nice and caring to. and you appreciate it. he literally held your hair back while you threw up three separate times today. but you're also moody and you want someone, something to be mad at.

“you have to take it, babe.”

you glare at the small bottle of fever tablets in his hand like it personally insulted you. “i don’t want it.”

“it’s gonna help you.”

“it tastes disgusting.”

"it's a pill, you're not even gonna taste it." he pinches the bridge of his nose, jaw tight. “just take the damn medicine.”

that’s when it slips out. sharp. defensive. ugly.

“you’re always trying to control me.”

the room goes quiet.

sukuna straightens slowly, eyes narrowing. “…control you?”

“yes,” you mumble, already regretting it but too stubborn and miserable to take it back. “i can take care of myself.”

something hard flashes across his face.

“fine,” he says flatly, setting the medicine down with a little more force than necessary. “then i won’t worry about you anymore. i'll go home.”

and then he leaves.

the door clicks shut.

the silence after is worse.

half an hour passes. sukuna's left by now. or so you thought. he's actually sitting in the living room. he couldn't leave you, especially not in this state. he knows you probably feel like shit for saying that. it hit a nerve, so he'll let you stew in it for a little.

you roll onto your side, staring at the wall, throat tight. the fight replays in your head, every word sounding harsher now that your fever’s cooling off just enough to let guilt seep in.

you didn’t mean it.

you’re just sick. and cranky. and tired of feeling like a sweaty wad of snot under the covers.

another ten minutes pass.

you’re still staring at the same spot on the wall when the door opens again.

sukuna comes back in without a word, a mug in his hand. steam curls up from it, smelling faintly of honey and something herbal. he sets it on the bedside table, then nudges it toward you.

“drink.”

"you're still here..?" your eyes widen. you push yourself up, wince, head still heavy with congestion, and take it. “…i’m sorry,” you start quietly. “i didn’t mean—”

“shut up,” he says, not unkindly. “drink.”

you do.

the tea is warm. soothing. it goes down easy, easing the scratch in your throat. you finish it without thinking, not having realised how thirsty and dehydrated you were, then hand the empty mug back to him.

he looks at the empty bottom.

then at you.

then smirks. way too satisfied.

something clicks.

your eyes widen. “…kuna.”

“mhm.”

“…did you just drug me.”

he snorts, clearly proud of himself. “you’re welcome.”

you stare at him, betrayed. “i’m calling the police.”

he rolls his eyes, already pulling the blanket up around you and tucking it tight. “yeah, yeah. do it after your fever's gone.”

you grumble, sinking back into the pillows, "i actually felt bad."

"good." he says, smugly unbothered, putting the mug down on the bedside table and laying beside you.

"i hate you." you whisper softly, as he wraps an arm around you, patting your back soothingly as the medicine finally kicks in, getting you drowsy.

"why, 'cuz i'm controlling?" he mocks. you bury your face in his shoulder with an embarrassed noise, voice muffled as you whine at him to shut up, "alright, alright. go to sleep, stupid."

the last thing you see before drifting off is sukuna watching you, expression softer than he’d ever admit.

prettiest dividers by @anitalenia & @bhavihelps here and here !

pt 2 ft suguru, yuuta, inumaki, toji, choso coming soon!!

he just didn't know how he kept getting fucking lucky— just enough to make it through the surface and make a living for himself even if everyone got mad at him all of the time for it.

because he sucked. he knew that he did. and no matter how many times he met with his management to try and figure out what the hell to do to improve, or tried to better his play on his own with extra hours of training that damn near broke his joints on multiple occasions from overexertion, it was like yuta repelled at being someone that was just— good at something.

it wasn’t the greatest feeling loving a sport that seemed like it didn’t exactly want him in return... but he enjoyed it anyways, opting to make the best of it until he ultimately officially got canned.

and he especially grew to enjoy it when he met you.

the photographer for his team.

“maybe tuck the ball under your arm for me? instead of—yeah! yeah like that!—”

yuta’s trembling hands, buzzing pink cheeks and sweating everything was doing nothing for him in this moment as you stood in front of him, wildly pretty and so sure of yourself as you took pictures of him for the monthly newsletter, camera in hand as you clicked way and angled your body here and there to get the shot you wanted.

he gulped.

“i feel like your bicep looks even bigger that way.” you smiled cheekily, setting your camera down as it hung around your neck with a strap.

e— even big—

“it’ll make the girlies excited for sure!”

he blushed furiously at you noting something like that, letting out a nervous squeaky laugh as he dropped his gaze to the way he was holding the ball now, fitted in his freshly cleaned football gear out in the middle of the field, just the two of you.

“does it— does it really..?” his wobbly smile tugged at your heart strings, a reassuring one of your own smoothing over your face in response. “i feel like they're usually yelling at me from the stands heh...”

you amusedly rolled your eyes with a shake of the head, picking up your camera again to capture a few more shots. “everyone yells all kinds of things from the stands yu.”

“they usually say i need to be benched or traded...” he spoke quietly, comically unfocused traumatized eyes staring off ahead as you gently fixed the positioning of his other arm.

you snorted and stepped back.

“yeah well you’re the one in the nfl and they’re the ones spending money to come see you anyway so they can rot in hell for all i care—”

he giggled then, wholeheartedly as he diverted his gaze, feeling amused yet incredibly ashamed at your statement all at the same time.

the title didn't feel rightfully earned to him... he didn’t deserve it for his atrocious play on the field.

“what?” you asked softly, popping your head up from the brink of taking another picture. “did i say something wrong? i'm sorry yuta i— that probably wasn’t appropriate—”

yuta frantically shook his head, big eyes locked on you as he flailed his unoccupied hand out in emphasis.

“no! no absolutely not you’re— you’re okay y/n...”

your shoulders gradually dropped in relief, thankful that yuta was one little gem that didn’t seem to mind anything that flowed off your tongue that was technically considered extremely unprofessional, more so if it was anyone else.

you were thankful he was a friend.

“i was just thinking a little.” he sent you a small timid curve of the lips, going back to the pose you’d instructed for him previously.

you hummed, shutting one eye to continue taking photographs, the camera shuddering and clicking away as you spoke.

“thinking? about what?”

yuta had known you ever since he made the national league team, and he’d loved you for just as long, deeming you one of his closest friends besides his other senior teammate— the singular person who tolerated him and didn’t scold him for accidentally dropping passes, and a cheerleader he’d come to meet nearly two months ago that danced for his team, her being the one he babbled and poured his heart out on a silver platter for about you and everything that you did.

and he felt so bad each time that he did... accidentally tasking her with listening to him hopelessly rant and rant even through her soft-hearted reassurances that it was okay...

he just didn’t think he could ever forget the way he felt when you first spoke to him, pathetically enough.

but he couldn’t think of you that way.

“about how badly i might botch our homecoming game.” a sad half smile grew. “i might get booted this time if i'm lucky.”

you gawked, jaw hung to the ground.

“yuta why would you say something like thaaatt!” you whined, beginning to flick through the photos on your camera to give them a check over. “don’t do that please... it’s not fair to write yourself off already for something that hasn’t happened. for something that won’t happen.”

he gnawed at the inside of his cheek, desperately wanting to believe you... but his bumpy track record was weighing heavy on his shoulders to remind him that he simply couldn't.

“you’re right i'm sorry.” he spoke softly, and you eased a little by his tone, putting your camera down and walking over to gently take the football from underneath his arm, his ears going pinker the closer you got to him.

you were aware of yuta’s unfortunate reputation, and you were even more aware of how he was treated by everyone else because of it.

“you’re alright yu don’t apologize.” you smiled warmly, your gaze swimming in sympathy and worry as you looked at him. “i just don’t like it when you’re mean to yourself about it... everyone has different strengths that come across in different ways. you have strengths that come across in different ways.”

“i don’t think people will ever see it that way though.” he lightly laughed, and you moved your head to catch his line of sight directly, expression serious.

“i see it that way.” you pushed softly. “hold onto that for a little until the rest of them do.”

yuta's heart felt like it was about to burst.

out of all his miserable years of dealing with people telling him he wasn’t doing this right, or fumbling that or—or jeopardizing whatever—

you were the first to ever show him genuine sugary kindness in the otherwise unforgiving industry he was involved in, and some he desperately needed and clung onto the minute you flashed him your gorgeous grin and encouraged him on his very first day, despite feeling like he truly reached the finish line for his career and was done for.

but it was wrong to think of you that way.

because the sole reason as to why yuta spent his days moping around gloomy and miserable and frustrated other than not being able to talk to you without stammering over his own words and looking fucking stupid...

was because you had a boyfriend.

and he hated himself for still loving you in the way that he did when he respected you so unbelievably much... but he just couldn’t help it no matter how hard he tried to get you out of his head, or begged his heart and head to calm the hell down any time he heard your pretty distant voice somewhere in the locker rooms or out on the field— spending a solid year trying and all it got him was freaking nowhere besides being pitifully still wrapped around your little finger and trailing after you like a lost puppy.

especially on days like this when you were so nice to him, having the upmost faith in what he could do when no one else did.

“th— thank you.” he shakily grinned, yet sweet as you nodded and patted his bicep.

“of course!”

you picked your camera back up again and quickly made a final run through over the photos you took, satisfaction swelling in your chest as you spotted several that were up to your standards and perfect for the newsletter.

you always enjoyed photographing yuta in particular, because despite the fact he was often bashful and a little unsure of himself, you actually preferred that, most if not all football players you’ve gotten to work with utterly and agonizingly arrogant, often choosing not to listen to any directions or pointers you gave them in terms of posing, talking your ear off about how it didn’t match what they wanted, or because it didn’t line up with the image they wanted to perceive themselves as to the public, or because they just flat out didn’t want to and ‘felt weird.’

whatever the fuck that meant.

so yuta always being the sweetest boy you’d ever met, listening to you and frequently asking you if how he was posing was okay, or what you suggested he do so he could look or work better, made your job so much easier and that much more pleasant.

“you’re all set!” you cutely smiled, yuta’s heart jumping at the sight of that. “thanks so much yu! your pictures look very cute.”

he chuckled, proceeding to strep through the grass and follow you when you signaled him with a nudge of the head to do so.

“are they okay?” he asked, and you quickly nodded, the both of you making your way across the vacant football field to get back to the locker rooms with the rest of the players.

“uh huh! they're lovely yu.” you wrung your hands behind your back and gently bumped your shoulder with his arm, yuta’s eyes trained downward as a teeny smile grew on his face.

“i appreciate you always working with me... i know it can get annoying when i keep pulling you for photos and get in the way of your practice hours... or when i keep fixing your arm twenty billion times heh.”

he snapped his head up and looked at you. “oh no! i don’t mind at all y/n. whatever you have to do to get what you need is never a bother for me, you know that.”

you jutted your bottom lip at his sweetness, his humility a charming yet burdening trait of his.

you always wished that yuta could receive the recognition and support you knew he deeply deserved.

because it was that same humility that allowed every other dickwad in the industry to walk all over him and make him feel awful for nearly fucking everything that he did. he could do no right in their eyes, and watching him ever so slowly lose the tiny glimmer of authentic passion he carried for the sport he played— his enthusiasm washing away bit by bit, the fiery flickering bud diminishing before you could attempt to salvage it, and the bags under his eyes growing darker and darker with every new day you saw him... made you sad.

you didn’t want yuta to lose himself due to the rather harsh expectations of others, when you knew probably more than anyone the exact grit he carried underneath his skin for football, his management refusing to just give him the grace nor chance he needed to let it properly flourish, and for the dumbest reasons you’d ever heard too.

it was the ‘cost of resources’ they had explained to you when you stomped your way through headquarters on a particularly brutal game for yuta, him accidentally butchering a touchdown simply because his teammates had zero faith in him and refused to pass him the ball, their hesitancy being the actual cause of his team losing rather than yuta.

though they blamed him anyway that night.

as the team's photographer there really wasn’t much you could do... but you felt it was worse to stay silent rather than weasel in the teensiest of input, one you hoped would one day fall on the right ears of someone willing to actually better the structure of training players, rather than favoritism or spending it on useless renovation plans for the stadium.

because sure, yuta wasn’t the greatest player... but he was far from the worst that they insisted he was.

and you fucking hated it.

“do you have any plans for the weekend?” you chirped as you both walked through the locker room doors, yuta pondering for a moment.

he didn’t ever really have much going on besides wallowing in anxiety and despair over any upcoming games...

“ehh— not really!” he chuckled, you following along as he made his way to his designated cubby, internally happy to see that the locker rooms were vacant so he could have some time with you for a little while.

“i think i might go out and buy rika a new cat tree... she destroyed the one she has now during the last away game we had.”

you giggled, yuta subconsciously smiling a little at the tune as he tugged at the straps of his football gloves off, the velcro ripping as he went.

“that silly kitty...” you tutted, taking a seat by him on the bench, calmly watching him crouch and begin to rummage through his cubby. “she always loves committing crimes when you’re not home.”

“definitely.” yuta huffed out a laugh with a shake of the head, organizing his things in preparation for next weeks practice. “a couple of days ago i came back from the market to see all my dishes shattered in the kitchen..."

“shut the fuck up!” you gasped, hand flying over your mouth as he giggled softly at your reaction, nodding.

“yeah... but it’s okay.” he smiled, standing upright and taking a seat next to you on the bench. “i have a hard time staying mad at her so i gave up on trying to get her to behave.”

you laughed again, and it only made yuta’s heart do a little giddy leap, head hung and eyes trained to the ground below in the hopes of you not seeing how red in the face he stupidly was.

“what— what about you?” he asked, wringing his palms together and settling them between his legs. “do you have any plans?”

you perked up. “i do! my boyfriend and i have plans to see a movie and then maybe get dinner after.”

he swallowed.

“that sounds like fun.” he sent you a weak smile. “what um— what movie?”

“i don’t even know.” you snorted. “he picked it! or— said he was gonna pick it... i’m not sure if he’s bought tickets yet actually.”

worry brewed in his chest a bit, ache mixed with frustration as you went on about the rest of your plans that you weren’t even sure were entirely confirmed.

situations like this were almost routine like to hear from you, because your boyfriend also happened to be a fucking asshole.

in the year that he’d known you, yuta lost count of how many times he cancelled on you last minute to do god knows what, or blatantly ditched whatever plans you had made for the two of you in exchange for doing something else that catered to just him, or was just— mean to you all of the time.

that fact bothered yuta the most.

he didn’t like the way he spoke to you at all, and it seemed like you were too used to it to— realize that it was rude, your boyfriend flat out too dismissive and neglectful of you and yuta having no idea how a sweet thoughtful girl like you ended up with someone who treated you like that.

you deserved to be respected and have everything you’ve ever wanted in your life, and whether it was with him or not that wasn’t what was important to him in this situation.

because yes it hurt like fucking hell to hear you talk about him, see you with him whenever he came to football events— your pretty doe eyes sparkling and widening as you stared at him like he was everything and not at all the arrogant fuck he was... but yuta’s feelings for you were to the point where he’d be at bittersweet ease if you were at least with someone who was good for you. treating you kindly.

“you should call him about it... just to be safe.” he spoke quietly, expression unreadable as he stared ahead at his cubby. “please.”

he didn't want you to be disappointed again.

“oh i will!” you kindly smiled, standing and slowly stretching your arms out over your head, slightly twisting your body left and right to soften out your limbs with yuta keeping his gaze straight ahead to avoid getting a peek at your soft tummy.

“i’m sure he booked it i just haven’t asked him about it.” you let your arms fall back to your sides before sending him a gentle smile, placing a palm on his head to give it a little pat. “i’ll be okay yu don't worry.”

his cheeks bubbled pink then, shy eyes briefly flickering up to yours with a teeny grin, dropping just as quick as they came with a nod.

“n— no yeah! of course.”

your fingers slipped from his raven strands and you took a step out.

“i’ll edit your photos and send them early so you can approve before i submit for the newsletter.” you informed him, yuta following suit and standing from the bench. “just to make sure you like them.”

“sure! thank you y/n.” he breathed out, the heavy exhaustion from today’s practice suddenly catching up to him. “is that how it normally is when you take the other guys’ photos?”

“nope!” you snickered, picking up your camera and holding it up to your face, squinting an eye. “special perks just for you sir. ‘cause you’re not a dick to me.”

he laughed, a pearly smile stretching across his face as he watched you snap another singular photo, the bright white flash blocking his line of sight for a swift moment until it dissipated.

“do the others still give you a hard time?” he curiously asked you, grabbing the collar of his jersey and bending over a bit to give it a quick tug off, his shoulder pads and protective plates sliding through his arms before his head popped up from underneath.

“no not as bad as when i first started.” you reached over and helped him slip the rest of his uniform off his arms, him sending you a grateful closed-lipped smile in response as you readjusted his white undershirt by the hem, the same hand then moving up to fix over his slightly disheveled hair.

you were so sweet he could die.

 “they just get sassy when they don’t like the poses i tell them to do.” you sighed as you drew your arm back, and yuta quirked a brow, proceeding to separate the fabric of his jersey from the preventative padding.

“still?” he shook his head, setting down his equipment in his cubby. “i’m sorry y/n... they’re just pictures i never understand why—”

“just pictures..?” you pouted, and yuta immediately snapped his head up from the sound of your tone to look at you, blown out horrified eyes scouring over your sulky little face in a panic.

oh god—

“n— no! that's not what i meant! i— they're not just pictures i love your pictures so much i just meant—”

you giggled hard then, hand hovering over your mouth as yuta’s cheeks grew pinker with every cute hiccup and chopped breath he heard slip past your lips.

“i’m kidding!” you quickly set your palms on his broad shoulders and gripped, shaking him a little to ward off his fidgety alarm— fighting through the silliness of it yourself to straighten up for him. “i'm just— heh!— i'm messing with you yuta it’s okay... i know what you meant.”

his shoulders slumped in fucking relief, placing a hand over his pounding heart as he dropped his head back and groaned.

“don’t do that...” he breathed out. “i thought i hurt you.”

you snickered some more and gave his shoulders a squeeze before letting go.

you found it endearing how gullible yuta was sometimes with people, as you took note of how much effort he put in never wanting to commit a sliver of harm to anyone if he could help it, even if they weren’t exactly the same with him.

“absolutely not sir.” you quipped, setting a hand on your hip and drumming your fingers along your camera with the other. “i’d never let you do such a thing to me.”

he giggled squeakily and nodded, briefly tossing his folded up jersey inside his cubby. “good! and don’t let any of my other teammates either.”

“ppffttt!—” you blew out, a silly rise to your brow. “yeah like i'd ever even let them open their mouth to talk to me like that. they fear me yu.”

“do they?” he cheekily grinned, dragging his bulky backpack out and plopping it on the bench beside you both, beginning to pack his things for the night. “who? how so?”

“i photographed itsuki last week for the newsletter and he was throwing a bitch fit.” you explained, watching as he finished up and zipped his bag closed, hoisting it over his shoulders.

yuta looked at you bewildered.

“why?”

you pouted again, and it made his heart squeeze just like before.

“he didn’t like my posing ideas. and then when i told him to suck it up he didn’t like my attitude.”

yuta burst out laughing, the admiration he already had for you increasing tenfold as you explained to him the maddening interaction you had with his teammate, the two of you officially packing up, making your way out of the locker room entirely and through the nearly vacant stadium as you conversed.

nights like these were yuta’s favorite type of nights, where the both of you managed to stay late enough for whatever reasons that you both had going on throughout the day, which in turn granted him the lucky privilege of getting to spend a bit of extra time with just you— not surrounded by the bustling crowds of everyone else that was clocked in, his incredibly loud teammates, or any other commitments that prevented him from straight up catching a fleeting glimpse of you for the day.

it was nights like these were yuta selfishly had pretty you all to himself.

even if it was just for a little while.

“wait what did you end up doing? were you able to take his pictures for the newsletter?”

yuta pushed open an exit door to the stadium and stepped off to the side, allowing you to go through first and out into the icy crisp night air before he followed suit.

“i had to force him yu. the man refused to listen to me and it was fucking exhausting.”

“what the hell is wrong with him.” yuta mumbled, his brainly cogs turning as you walked through the parking lot, the loose pavement gravel crunching beneath your shoes with each step. “he’s always been kind of bratty like that actually... coach has told him to stay in position and not chase after the ball so many times and he just— doesn't listen.”

“because he wants to be the one to make touchdowns that’s why.” you sighed through your nose, eyes scouring the never ending rows of vehicles and trying to remember where you parked yours.

“greedy greedy man...”

yuta smiled at the ground, though a small twitch to the brow gave away his discontent.

“you’re probably right but— i don’t really like that he’s mean to you y/n...” he turned his head to look at you, bashful concern etched on his kind face. “you have nothing to do with whatever’s happening on the field.”

you frantically waved him off, shaking your head and feeling bad that you’d stressed him out for probably the millionth time today.

“no! i promise you i'm alright yu don’t worry.” you brightly grinned, readjusting the strap of your bag. “this isn’t my first rodeo with these kinds of things... i used to babysit before i got into photography heehee! but thank you!”

he giggled boyishly and nodded, thankful that you were quite literally the definition of self-assuredness and confidence, if not way better, you never letting anyone minimize you or— or speak to you a certain way without you biting back, something he profoundly admired about you and could only wish to replicate for himself someday.

so yuta couldn’t understand why you’d made the exception for your boyfriend.

“oh! i see my car! oh thank god i couldn’t remember where the eff i parked—”

you turned to him and smiled once more, a rosy hue to the tip of your nose and precious cheeks from the frosty nipping air, both of your breaths puffing out in misty clouds as you spoke on.

“thank you for walking with me! are you far from here?” you craned your body and looked around the parking lot. “if you are let me drive you to your car so you’re not walking in the cold—”

“oh i'm— i'm okay! thank you!” he breathed out, fiddling with the straps of his backpack. “i’m not too far away i can walk.”

“kay.” you briefly dug through your bag and pulled your keys out. “i’ll see you next week then? monday?”

“uh huh! monday.”

walking to the driver's side of your car, you unlocked it and pulled open the door before tossing your bag in, hoisting a leg up.

“give rika a kiss for me!” you called from over your shoulder, and yuta quickly nodded with friendly quirked lips.

“i will! drive safe please!”

“you too!”

and you shut the door, yuta taking a few steps back then and watching as you turned on your ignition and switched to reverse, easing your way out from your spot until you eventually shifted gears— sticking a waving hand out the window as you drove off into the night and out of the parking lot.

yuta didn’t let his arm down until you were completely out of sight from where he was, standing there for a few more seconds with a battering fuzzy heart, his chest swirling with affection for you that he desperately tried to get under control and shut up.

it was embarrassing in a way, when his twisted mind often wrongfully swapped out where your boyfriend stood next to you at his games... with himself, picturing that it was him you were looking at like that, or imagining what it would be like to literally just hug you, or hold your hand or— or share something with you that made you so happy and had you smiling for him— all in the attempts of mending over the ache, a burden that resided permanently in every nook and cranny of who he was.

he knew fantasizing about shit like this wasn’t the healthiest for him… and not to mention disrespectful to you, doing more harm than good.

but yuta simply couldn’t help himself.

you were worth someone to think about, and he justified his daydreams by keeping them exactly as they were and nothing more. as daydreams.

daydreams he sort of made peace with taking to the grave.

it was a constant never ending warfare between morality, temptation, and heavy longing that often plagued his every thought after getting to speak with you— similar to this moment, with him shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket and finally walking away, head hung low and his brain contorting and pulling with lovesick guilt as he made his way to his car, it actually parked the complete opposite from where yours was.

because nonetheless...

he was looking forward to monday.

“what do you mean you didn’t book it?”

your boyfriend simply shrugged, bored eyes glued to the tv in your living room— planted on the couch as you stood there in fucked off disbelief that it seemed like he genuinely didn’t know what the hell you were talking about.

there’s no way there’s no way—

“i thought you did..?” he barely even spared you a glance before his gaze flickered back to the screen ahead, your heart sinking once you realized that he was indeed doing this bullshit again with you.

“reno— you said you would!” you explained exasperatedly. “you told me last week that you’d book a movie and make dinner reservations—”

“did i?” he mumbled. “i’m sorry babe i’ll book them for a different day. promise.”

he spoke so— passively. entirely distracted and embedded in whatever the fuck he was watching, refusing to give you the time of day as you stood there with your hair and makeup done, trying to suck back the familiar burning tears that prickled at your eyeballs.

“you said that last time.” you spoke softly. “and the time before that.”

“well i’m here now aren’t i?” he stood with a grunt and sluggishly made his way to the fridge, pulling it open and bending to rummage through. “why can’t we just stay in—”

“no reno we always stay in...” your voice quavered. “and you said—”

“fuck what i said y/n i don’t remember.” he snagged a beer bottle from the back and shut the fridge, turning to face you and eyes narrowing into slits.

“are you seriously crying? what did i even do?”

“you literally talked out of your ass and planned this shit with me!” you yelled, hands flailing out in desperation. “the least you could do is cancel on me ahead of time instead of letting me get fucking ready!”

“you’re being dramatic babe stop.” he mumbled, digging into the pockets of his pants and pulling out a bottle opener, hooking the latch beneath the cap. “just come sit down i’ll put a damn movie on. what do you wanna watch.”

you felt a pang through your chest and you shook your head, sniffling before reaching around him and snatching your purse from the kitchen island.

reno quizzically tracked your movements, taking a drink of his beer and swallowing.

“where the hell are you going?”

“out.” you spat, carefully wiping the corners of your eyes as you stepped to the door.

he scoffed. “yeah where?—”

“don’t make a mess in my apartment while i’m gone.”

“babe— i literally drove here to spend time with you and you’re leaving?” he bitterly rolled his eyes. “jesus man i should be the one mad at you.”

“be mad at me all you want. i’m leaving.” you unlocked the front door and wrenched it open. “bye reno.”

“oh my god y/n—”

“—i’m glad you remembered where the beer was in my fridge you asshole!”

and you slammed the door shut, the force ricocheting as you charged your way through the halls of your apartment complex and down the main elevators, hoping and praying that he didn’t follow after you so he’d at least spare the wrath of getting freaking chewed out by you.

you were livid.

so incredibly livid and frustrated and— and hurt as you got into your car, wondering when it was that reno started being so careless with you and your relationship, even when you’ve been running laps around him trying to find different ways to salvage it and go back to the way things were.

it was a never ending fucking cycle— him disappointing you over fallen out plans or forgotten special events, you crying and hiccupping about it until he eventually got over his attitude and softened up for you, sweetly apologizing and buying you flowers or trinkets and treating you like he used to...

kind.

because he was, you swore that he once was. when you and him first started dating that was the whole reason as to why you ended up being his girlfriend in the first place, the first few months genuine bliss until his efforts started gradually declining over the course of your two year relationship.

reno used to buy you flowers weekly and take you out for dinner every other night, he used to parade you around his friends and insist that you’d come along to any outing, he used to drop everything in his life if you needed something as simple as fucking eggs in your fridge.

and he used to make you feel wanted. someone worth thinking about.

maybe that was the reason why you were still with him, clinging on desperately to the man he once was in the hopes that he’d suddenly come back one day.

but he loved you still. even though he was sometimes mean and forgetful you knew that he loved you…

he did he— he just needed a little help is all…

“rika you have got to be kidding me.”

a singular cute meow filled the room as rika pounced off the sandy mess she made— litter sprinkled all over the fucking floor of the living room with scattered imprints of her paws etched in each small pile, yuta standing there with a slack jaw.

“i took a piss for like— two seconds how did you even manage to—”

his furrowed pissed brows made no effect on the little kitty, as she simply twitched her fluffy ears and cocked her head to the side, blown out pupils looking up at him earnestly before she padded her way over to his right leg.

“i lose sleep because of you…” he muttered, watching her curl herself against the fabric of his jeans and purring, trotting to the opposite side to do the same with his other leg, yuta’s heart actively being tugged and manipulated as she did so.

he quietly sighed through his nose then and bent down, gently carding his fingers through the soft white fur behind her ear and scratching, a slow smile curving his lips as rika purred louder and nuzzled her head into his hand.

“silly kitty…” he mumbled. “you abuse the system you know.”

one of yuta's biggest flaws out of the millions he already had with football, was that he had a hard time staying mad at cat, feeling she could go as far as getting them literally evicted from his apartment complex and he’d still give her a peck with a sweet treat at the end of the day.

“what color cat tree do you want?—”

his phone buzzed in his back pocket and he absentmindedly reached behind to retrieve it, his eyes flickering once to the caller i.d. before they shot back for a double take upon realizing who it was.

you.

“HOLY fucking— shit!—”

yuta’s phone slipped from his hand and he made a leaping lunge for it, slamming down tummy first and sliding across the cold hardwood flooring of his living room— helplessly scrambling after his buzzing device for a few tries until he managed to finally snatch it through his panic, quickly answering.

rika stared.

“hel— hello?”

“hi yu!” you sweetly greeted over the other line, and yuta felt his heart quicken at the sound of it.

it wasn’t often when you called on the weekends. actually— you didn’t call on the weekends just on the week-days when he had football practices and you were gathering photographs for the media or management and you needed to pull him for a quick chat—

“is— is this a good time?”

“yes!” he sputtered, using his unoccupied hand to help himself up off the floor. “y—yeah it is y/n… are you okay?”

“yeah i’m okay!” you laughed. “thank you! i just um… have you— have you gotten rika’s cat tree yet..? by any chance?”

his eyebrows pinched a little.

“n— no i haven’t.” he replied. “i was just about to go actually but— rika spilled litter all over my floor...”

you giggled and yuta felt like he was going to die.

“serves you right for leaving her all alone hm? you should know by now that kitty doesn’t like it when you’re away.”

he laughed then and nodded, looking over his shoulder and relieved to see rika still relaxing where she was and not destroying something else.

“you’re absolutely right.” he smiled, a pinky hue rising to his cheeks. “she’s gonna set my apartment on fire if we make it to the superbowl.”

“when you make the super bowl sir.” you corrected. “hey but listen um… i was wondering if it’s okay if i tag along? with— you? to get rika her cat tree…”

he froze.

“not if it’s too much trouble!” you immediately followed up. “i totally get it if not please don’t worry i was just— i remembered those were your plans and i don’t have plans so i thought—”

“no no!” he frantically shook his head.

fucking idiot—

“i mean yes!” he breathed out. “yes you’re more than welcome to y/n i— i don’t mind at all… please come.”

you gasped.

“really?! oh i’m so glad! send me your address and i’ll drive over to your place.”

holy shit.

“okay!” he hurriedly propped his phone up against his shoulder and ran across his apartment to get to his utility closet, fumbling for the knob and yanking it open in search for his vacuum.

“just— just let me know when you’re about ten minutes away!” he dragged the vacuum out and sped back down the hall. “i’m on the fifth floor just press the mail room button, i’ll text you the code—”

yuta had never hung out with you one on one before.

well technically he has, but it was always in group settings with his teammates or staff personnel after particular days, the lot of you meeting up at the bar just down the street from the stadium to have a quick drink and converse, though most of the time it was funnily always you and yuta talking amongst each other with everyone else doing their own little thing.

and there were a few blessed times where you both happened to grab a quick cup of coffee in the mornings right before clocking in… but every single one of these events happened on a working weekday.

never a weekend. and never on your own accord like this.

“rika please get out of the way i can’t vacuum when you’re blocking—”

the cat continued to wiggle her fluffy tail and stay cemented on the top portion of the vacuum, moving back and forth with yuta’s frantic push and pull as he tried to get all the litter off the floor before you got there.

“rikkaaaaa!” he groaned. “please kitty please i’ll do anything don’t do this right now—”

out of all days for yuta to somehow win the random ludicrous lottery of getting the chance to hang out with you one on one, was when his apartment was an absolute fucking mess with his cat being brattier than usual, her still plopped on the vacuum as he accepted defeat— continuing to hastily suck up the rest of the liter with her meowing away.

and he zipped through his place, to and fro as yuta stumbled away picking up scattered laundry or random pieces of trash he happened to spot as he went, all while simultaneously mopping and dusting and disinfecting and trying his hardest to get his apartment to look decent for you, and not a fucking shithole, wanting you to be comfortable in his home and not feel like you were surrounded by typical manly filth...

he was so nervous he felt like he was going to puke.

“rika let— go kitty you know you’re not supposed to be scratching on that!—”

yuta pulled on her as gently as he possibly could to get her claws unhooked from the fabric of his rug, her defiant hissing and blunt refusal to listen making him increasingly more helpless by the second.

“you mad at me for leaving yesterday?” he shook her body a little in emphasis. “is that what this is?”

“meow!”

“rika— how am i supposed to afford your things if you don’t want me going outside?!—”

“—MEOW!—”

a tiny chime rang through his apartment and he stilled.

“rika.” he lowly spoke, sucking in a breath through his nose. “get your nails out of the rug now.”

her ears flicked.

“meow.”

yuta dropped her and stood up straight to get the door, choosing to give up for the sake of keeping his sanity and not lose it more than he already had.

with shaky clammy hands he reached and unlocked the door, swallowing down the ginormous lump in his throat as he grabbed onto the knob and twisted it, slowly pulling the door open while attempting to cut off his ballistic rapid thoughts and seem normal.

he almost didn’t hear your greeting from how loud his pulse was pounding in his ears.

“hi!” you gorgeously smiled. “i could hear you fighting with rika from down the hall heehee!”

his neck grew hot, twitching and fidgeting in place at the sight of you dolled up.

beautiful thing.

“really?” he laughed breathlessly. “sorry she— she's being bad right now so she might—”

as if on cue a piercing hiss echoed throughout the apartment, yuta immediately snapping his head down behind him to see rika standing there defensively, her back slightly arched and pinpoint pupils shooting daggers at you.

“hey no!” he scolded, bending down to grab her. “what are you doing rika, huh?”

he lifted her overhead to look at her straight on.

“she’s the nicest to me... so handle her gently, okay? as if she were a butterfly or a flower.”

your eyes softened over his words then, gaze trained on yuta as he moved to set rika down on the ground, her shrills of protest smoothing to tiny cute mewls.

“i’m really sorry.” he apologized once more with a weary smile, shuffling to the side to let you in. “she’s never been friendly to anyone...”

you pouted and tilted your head, looking at the disgruntled little kitty as you walked in— rika padding away to settle in her plushy bed in the corner of the living room.

“that’s okay!” you cheerfully reassured, bright eyes looking around his spacious place. “i'm the one invading her space so she’s totally justified.”

“i’m still trying to get her to be nicer though.” yuta shut the door and trailed behind you, anxiously toying with his fingers. “it’s one of the reasons i can’t take her with me to public places... she’ll hiss at anyone who talks to me.”

you giggled and turned to face him, the charms on your purse jingling as you did so.

the sight of you standing in the middle of his apartment was something he thought he’d never get to see.

“it’s because she adores you.” you wrung your hands behind your back and smiled warmly at him, his chest fluttering at the look of it. “can’t blame a girl for loving her man.”

he laughed and nodded, though he couldn’t help but apply those words to you.

it's probably why you stayed with your boyfriend... the reasoning simple enough and easy to digest and yet—

he didn’t like it at all.

yuta quietly cleared his throat.

“you uh— you ready to go?” he felt around his pockets for his keys. “can i get you anything before we leave? i think i have um... iced tea or—”

“oh no i'm okay yu! but thank you!” you grinned. “i actually brought something for you—”

you dug into your purse and moved things around for a little bit before pulling your hand out.

on an offering palm lay a little strawberry puff pastry— adorned with sparkling drizzles of honey glaze and chocolate and powdered sugar, wrapped neatly in plastic wrap and a thin pinky bow to tie it off.

“it’s from the bakery down the street from where i live! as a thank you for letting me tag along with you today.”

yuta stared wide eyed and shocked at the shiny dessert, thinking that you were seriously the purest girl he’d ever come to know, and wondering how in the fuck he was ever going to get over you as his hand slowly reached to take it.

“you didn’t have to buy me anything y/n i— i honestly don’t mind you coming along at all...”

he held the pastry in his grasp like it was the most precious thing he’d ever received.

because it definitely was.

“but thank you!” he sent you a big dazzling smile then, the first one you’ve seen to actually be more genuine and happier, the crinkles by his eyes serving as a testament as he looked down at the dessert again.

you grinned.

he must really love cupcakes!

yuta insisted that he drove the both of you around for the day, and the nerves he felt about having you in his apartment were fucking dumb compared to what he felt now that you were in his car— the scent of your peachy perfume utterly consuming his entire being as he drove to the nearest pet store, a deathly grip on the steering wheel, knuckles dead white and his posture rigid, yuta trying with his life to slow his breathing and not make his jitters obvious while listening to you talk.

“did you have lunch yet yu?” you asked, scouring around in your bag again. “maybe we can get something to eat after we get rika her kitty tree.”

“we could do that yeah.” he replied softly, head briefly turning in your direction to see you pull out a small handheld digital camera, adorned with bubbly glittering stickers of hearts and stars and anything else of the like, a charmed strap that faintly rattled every time you moved.

yuta squeakily laughed as you proceeded to then snap multiple pictures of him, snapshot after snapshot as you loomed over the console to get the angles you wanted, a rising blush to his cheeks at your close proximity and the way your perfume wafted in his nostrils, all of it unfortunately causing him to turn his face away and practically hide.

you giggled and leaned back against your seat just as he made a left.

“sorry yu. you're my favorite victim for pictures.”

his heart made a little leap.

a— a favorite?

“i can’t imagine i'm a very good one...” he shyly smiled at you before pulling into the pet store’s parking lot.

you offendedly gasped.

“what in the world— yuta do you have any idea how perfectly candid you are like— all of the time?”

the blush on his cheeks deepened.

“candid?” he pulled into the first spot he found, switching his gear to park and shutting off the ignition.

“yeah! like you’re naturally just in your own element every time i see you.” you shrugged. “everything you do is honest and like... unguarded in a way. you're not at all performative which is something i appreciate a lot.”

yuta could only stare as you explained.

“and it comes across beautifully in photographs.” you finished off gently. “that’s why you’re my favorite.”

he eventually gave you a singular stiff nod, swallowing. “r— right.”

your perspective on the simplest of things was what yuta loved most about you.

and he guessed it was quite fitting for someone like you— a photographer who’s entire purpose and career was to take simple things and interpret them with a lens that was vastly different from others, to find the meaning in something that probably didn’t need nor have one and yet you managed to find it, capturing it and turning it into a project that was entirely your own, to expose that said meaning, showcasing it in a way that made it easier for others to finally understand and take notice of.

and maybe that’s what you'd done with him... maybe that was the reason why you cheered him up after every failing practice or game, or refused to let him talk negatively about himself, or why you even gave him the time of day when his other teammates could probably give way more than he ever could.

or why you quietly sat with him after being the reason for a big loss for his team, his head hung low, your hands folded in your lap, not saying anything and just offering you, your presence and the sound of your rhythmic breathing subconsciously aiding in pulling him from his overbearing thoughts of failure... instead exchanging them for counting your breaths or what kind of charm strap you had on your camera this time.

you were always switching them out depending on the day. sometimes they were dangling fruits, or little pink hearts, or stars.

though the small bears were particularly his favorite.

“...yu?”

he jumped and snapped his head up, turning to look at you.

“y— yeah? yes?”

“are you okay?” you frowned a bit. “you looked upset i— fuck was it because of what i said?—”

“no!—”

without realizing he reached and quickly took your hand, holding it gently in his as he shook his head side to side.

“no.” he repeated. “i was just... thinking.”

you laughed then. “you’re always thinking yuta.”

neither of you seemed to notice that he was holding your hand.

“i’ll have you know by the way that itsuki is my least favorite victim.” you quipped. “i hardly even edit over his pictures. i leave the breakouts on his face because fuck that guy.”

he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, you following suit as the two of you leaned over in a fit of snickers and hiccups, both your hearts healing and feeling happy for two entirely different reasons, yet the outcome was the same.

you were of the same rhythm.

his eyes flickered down and he stilled.

hands— soft— your hands—

“oh god i'm so sorry!—” he ripped his hands away and you jumped in your seat.

“what?! what?!—”

“i didn’t mean it i swear i didn’t realize i'm so sorry!—”

“oh! yu it’s fine don’t worry—”

“i’m being so fucking weird i'm sorry—”

“yuta holy hell relax!—”

once you both managed to get inside, it didn’t take long for yuta to pick out a cat tree for rika, since he knew that girl like the back of his hand and had her likes and dislikes engraved in his mind like a vice, more so for the reason that he’d never hear the end of her meowing complaints if she didn’t like it.

but he funnily dragged out his decision making for the purpose of dragging the hang out for a little while longer with you...

“oh! what about this one?” you excitedly pointed to a cream colored cat tree, filled with small obstacles and ridges that rika could run her claws over. “does she like this color? aww it has a little extra nook! she can take naps in that instead of fucking up your apartment.”

he giggled. “very true! i don’t think she’ll be a big fan of the little dangling ball things though.” he pointed to what he was referring to. “i’ve bought her an obstacle course with that before and she threatened me.”

you snorted, wholeheartedly amused at the fact that yuta’s cat seemed like she was a tiny dictator.

“i wish i had a cat.” you pouted. “reno hates them.”

he raised a brow as the two of you continued walking down the aisle.

“don’t you live on your own?” he asked you, and you nodded.

“yeah but— he’s over all the time so it’d be kind of an issue... OH! look at that one! i think she’d love that one!—”

he frowned.

“y/n it’s your apartment...” he countered softly, following where you were pointing and almost chuckling, as it was actually the exact cat tree he had picked out already for rika.

“no i know.” you smiled up at him. “i just want him to be comfortable while he’s over... i would hate for him not to be.”

yuta pursed his lips, begrudgingly accepting your response and choosing to move on despite the gnawing in his head.

“that one’s good!” he pointed to the cat tree. “good eye heeh! she’ll love that one.”

“really?!” you gushed, your twinkling little eyes hyperactively scouring over the tree. “oh i'm so happyyy! hopefully i get on her good side with it.”

he laughed and took note of the product number so he could report back to the cashier. “you will! i'll tell her you picked it out.”

the two of you then began your trek down to the front desk, the pet store nearly entirely vacant except for a few individuals here and there passing through various aisles, the soft hum of radio music buzzing through the building as you walked and chatted along.

“what do you feel like eating for lunch?” yuta sent you a friendly smile, amused at the way you were taking pictures of practically everything with your digital camera.

“hm?” you swiveled your body around in his direction without taking the device away from your face, the lens pointed directly at him now.

“oh anything yu! i'm not picky.” you snapped a picture of him, the flash going off briefly as you did so. “you can choose.”

yuta showed the cashier the product number once they got to the front, them nodding before disappearing off somewhere in the back.

“mmmm...” he leaned his hip against the register and crossed his arms, eyes trailing to the big windows at the front of the store with a clear view of the outside. “is there anything you prefer? maybe we can—”

he paused, gaze catching a familiar area across the street from the plaza— bustling with people as they walked through several grouped tents and stands, their arms packed full of goodies or paper shopping bags.

“oh the farmer’s market is today!” yuta turned his head to look at you again. “i’ve heard it's really nice!”

“is it?” you asked with a growing smile, standing on your tippy toes and craning your body around to try and see for yourself.

“uh huh!” yuta raised a hand then to nervously scratch the back of his neck. “do you... do you maybe wanna go there? see what they have and we can get something to eat there? if— if you’re okay with that?”

you frantically nodded, completely and heartily in love with the proposed idea as you excitedly looked out the window again.

“oh my god yes can we?! i looove farmer’s markets so much there’s always a stand with a fuck ton of charms—”

your boyfriend had been blowing up your phone pretty much the second you and yuta got to the pet store, all to which you ignored— hitting the mute button and shoving it somewhere in your bag as the two of you loaded up rika’s cat tree, the thing coming in a rather huge box that you made sure was secured snug in the backseat of his car, the both of you starting your walk across the street to the farmer’s market after.

yuta didn’t think he’d ever seen you in this sort of lighting before, with the barely setting sunny rays glooming over your skin and pretty face, your eyes seemingly more brilliant than earlier as they glimmered with each time you turned your head just the right way with the sun, or as they enthusiastically looked over the mountains of produce or endless bouquets in particular stands that you browsed.

and he grinned warmly with every moment you especially lit up at various selections of apricots or peaches, or buckets of lilies wrapped up in newspaper— stopping each time to gently graze your fingertips along the petals and mention how beautiful they were.

yuta didn’t think he’d ever get to do any of this with you... and yet here he was anyway, sharing a basket full of freshly washed strawberries with you as you walked along the busy market, chatting away about almost everything and anything under the sun, like you always seemed to do whenever you found yourselves together, stuttering and fumbling over his words but okay with it so long as it made you laugh.

it was a price he was more than happy to pay.

“how is it that you can’t remember how you started playing football?” you quirked a brow, a hand hovering over your mouth as you munched on a strawberry. “you lying to me yu?”

“no i’m not i swear!” he giggled boyishly, looking down at the fruity basket and picking up another berry. “i don’t know why but i genuinely can’t remember... i have shit memory.”

“you are lying to me.” you swallowed, turning your head as your eyes briefly caught another bucket of cutey lilies while you strolled along. “you’re the one that reminds me half of the time that i've left my water bottle behind in your cubby.”

yuta shyly snickered some more, biting down on the fruit and speaking through chews. “it's like i kind of remember playing it... around maybe when i was seven? eight? but nothing much before that. it's kind of a blur to me.”

you disappointedly sighed, dissatisfied with the fact that you’d never come to know the origins of how a kind boy like yuta became interested in douchey football.

“oh this one’s really good!” he cheerily beamed suddenly, your mind snapping out of its thoughts as you turned your head.

“what?” you perked up. “the strawberry?”

“mhm!” he chewed some more. “all of them are but this one is really sweet.”

“oh! can i try?”

“—‘course!—”

just as yuta thought you meant to try one from the basket, you stopped and leaned over to try his, your lips enclosing around the area that he just bit before gnawing down yourself, yuta’s heart dropping to the pits of his ass and his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

indirectkissindirectkissindirectki—

your lips gradually slid off the strawberry and you munched a little, your expression sparkling up as the extra sweet flavoring coated your tongue and tastebuds, nodding vigorously with a growing closed lipped smile.

“you’re so right!” you gushed, carefully wiping the tiny juice remnants from the corners of your mouth. “aw lucky you yuta! you picked a tasty one heehee!”

yuta remained frozen in place, watching you.

he didn’t know why that made heat rush through every fucking corner of his system, his sick brain replaying what you’d just done again and again as his gaze trickled down to the strawberry— glistening and shiny from just being wrapped around your plush lips.

timidly then— he lifted the fruit and brought it to his mouth, mind entirely blank as his own lips enclosed around where yours had just been to take a bite, yuta’s movements lingering and slow, but with a head that ran fucking rampant at the fact that he was basically savoring up the traces of your pretty mouth...

and somehow the berry tasted even sweeter this time around.

yuta couldn’t bring himself to look at you in the eyes after that as he chewed, for he was too busy simmering in his sheepishness while you continued to skip around and excitedly pull him to different stands, having him pose next to varieties of fruits and veggies so you could snap a photo with your camera.

it was genuinely all too much for him to take, but he didn’t give a shit. not with the way you looked at him and only him in this moment... giggling with him and— talking to him like he wasn’t the biggest fuck up in the world... but someone who was important. special.

you were about to prance off to a little charm stand— the first one you finally managed to come across— when you felt a hand snake around your wrist then, gently stopping you for a moment and you looking over your shoulder to see yuta, an unreadable expression on his face as he looked down at you.

you curiously tilted your head, and he blushed, diverting his gaze off to the side and raising his other arm to scratch the back of his neck.

what the fuck was he even doing?—

“is everything okay?” you asked softly, and his dilated pupils shot back to you.

“y— yeah! i—” he struggled, arm falling back over his side and the hold around your wrist slightly tightening, swallowing the tickling lump in his throat as he stared.

“...hi.”

you blinked before giggling, a cheeky smile bursting through your face as you did so.

“hi yu...” you replied, voice so sweet and soft that his knees nearly gave out.

why couldn’t it be him?

why couldn’t you be with someone that didn’t make you cry?

there were so many things that he wanted to say to you, and a million more other things he fucking couldn’t, everything that was you hitting him like a brick all at once and torturing him, taunting him... dangling a girl like you over his head and laughing in his face at the fact that you could never be with a guy like him.

even if your boyfriend was out of the picture... you were simply way out of his league. you were never meant to be with him.

“...yu?”

slowly, his fingers slipped from your wrist and he let you go, a sunken look to his eyes as he kept his head down.

“s— sorry i don’t—”

you then caught his wrist and he stilled, watching as you raised a hand and ran a gentle fingertip over his undereyes.

“you need sleep yu... how many times do i have to tell you hm?”

he needed you.

because your genuine concern, and the look of your brows slightly pinching together as your gaze stayed focused and anxious on the deep bags under his eyes, nearly made him stupidly fucking blurt that he loved you.

“m’sorry...” he sent you a wobbly smile, and you reciprocated with a tender one of your own. “rika keeps me up at night.”

“you and i both know it’s not just rika.”

you sighed through your nose and let your arm fall back to your side, your other hand giving his wrist a reassuring squeeze.

“you need to stop— letting them so much into your head yu…” you stressed softly. “your management, your teammates, the— the public or whoever… you can’t keep caring so much about what they think of you.”

there wasn’t ever a day that went by where you weren’t worrying about yuta… especially on days where you were all clocked in for practice or team meet ups, you baring witness to most of yuta’s hardships as he was constantly being told his ear off over certain play mistakes on the field, or weekly goals he was just barely managing to meet— his teammates weirdly harboring rights to make comments about anything at him that pissed you off like nothing else in your life.

“s’hard…” he weakly laughed, his pinks cheeks growing deeper as he held your worried gaze. “it’s a constant thing… but i’ve— i’ve grown thick skin to it! i promise i have.”

he smiled comfortingly at you, though your expression didn’t change.

“but you shouldn’t have to.” you shook your head. “you shouldn’t have to do that in the first place and just— do you. as cheesy as it sounds.”

“y/n—”

“you know what i think?”

he paused, his sleep deprived eyes searching yours for a beat before quietly responding.

“what?”

“i think fuck your management, fuck your teammates, and fuck anyone who gives you shit about anything that has to do with what you do on the field.”

you gripped his wrist tighter for reasons you didn’t know nor really understood, but it was almost like— desperation for him to get you to comprehend what you were saying… to believe it, you grasping at anything just so he could find the will to not care and finally let himself flourish at games, without the brooding habit of constantly checking over his shoulder in fear of someone’s unsolicited opinion.

“and you—”

you pressed a gentle finger to the middle of his chest and planted the tip there, a crawling tingly feeling spreading out underneath his shirt by it.

“—should think that way too yuta.”

you tilted your head.

“do you have any idea how much shit i’ve gotten from so many people in this industry because of what i do? and because i don’t have a dick?”

a giggling snort burst through his lips, and you grinned at that.

“i’m serious!” you laughed. “a lot of the time people don’t take me seriously… so they’re bratty and give me attitude and think my pictures are stupid.”

yuta’s face immediately dropped into a frown.

“they’re not stupid—”

you interjected. “i know that… do you see?”

you sent him another kind smile, the rest of your fingers subconsciously unraveling to settle flat over his chest in comfort.

“i get shit from people left and right but i know that my pictures are great just the way they are. i don’t need anyone critiquing my technique or telling me to change— whatever… i figured that out on my own.”

you looked at him pointedly. “—and without following anyone’s expectations... so allow yourself to do that.”

with each genuine sentence that flowed through your lips, they inexplicably moved him, so much so that his brain almost couldn’t fucking process how much of it made sense, and how much of it actually helped him— finally alleviating the sense of burden he felt for himself that he spent never ending hours judging and— and loathing just because everybody else did.

except you.

it was never you that did that.

you were always forgiving and levelheaded, firm in your own decisions about your career and who you were as a person, yuta spending practically every moment of his life since he’d met you watching how resilient you were, how you never let anyone talk down on you a certain way or— give the time of day to those who didn’t deserve it.

you were confident. bright and full of ambition and everything yuta idolized and cherished.

and the way you looked now as he stared with wide wonder filled eyes, you wholeheartedly representing a gorgeous walking angel that cared too much and worried tenfold about someone as painfully average as him, you actually seeing something in him despite the fact that he’d proven time and time again that there wasn't anything to see...

was the most painful yet beautiful privilege he had ever been given the fleeting chance to have. and yuta would never take that for granted, even when the time came to part from you for good due to the way life just was.

you were caught off guard by yuta’s random quiet burst of laughter then, squeaky and skittish and one you absolutely adored, the biggest of smiles stretching across his face as he held his gaze with you, a little happy twinkle in his eye with a hand over his mouth to try and mush his giggling.

“what?” you laughed along confusedly, your hand on his chest withdrawing to your side.

he quickly waved you off, an expression of fondness creeping in.

“you know what i think?”

you blinked. “w— what yu?”

“i think… that i wish i could be just like you.”

you stilled.

“y’know… strong. and determined.” he continued, the wrist you held carefully twisting in your grasp to cradle your hand— palm over palm as he stared down at them. “with you saying fuck everyone n’their expectations... i want to be like that.”

you tried to ignore the pounding in your chest, swallowing the lump in your throat as your own eyes stayed trained to where your palms met, the hustle and bustle of the packed farmer’s market completely drowning over from where the two of you stood, isolating you until it was just you and him and the feeling of his palm.

the warmth of the sun made itself comfy on the skin of your hands, on yuta’s tall frame and on the side of his sweet face... and somehow that really confused you.

why were you confused?

“well i've— i've also gotten in trouble for it in the past so...” your shy eyes briefly flickered up to meet his before they quickly diverted. “find a good middle ground heh...”

“but it’s also gotten you where you are now, right?”

your gaze slowly dragged up to see yuta already looking at you— an aura of ease to him.

“they don’t just hand out your kind of position like candy y/n.” he murmured softly. “so don’t change the way you hold yourself... and don’t let anyone disrespect you either.”

he was truly the sweetest boy ever.

and god you were so fucking confused, but the only thing that undoubtedly made sense to you and felt right was yuta... you pursing your lips before unexpectedly reaching out and wrapping your arms around his torso, pulling him into a squeezing hug as you shut your eyes tight, the side of your cheek pressed to his chest.

you had never had anyone say something like that to you... so it was nice to hear from someone’s opinion you valued very very much.

yuta felt his heart stop and a breath catch in his throat.

“thank you for hanging out with me today yu...” you quietly spoke, your embrace only tightening as yuta tried his best not to pass out. “and for everything else.”

you were hugging him.

just like he’d pictured before except— the real thing was softer.

and smelled like peach perfume.

hesitantly, slowly... he brought his own arms to snake around your shoulders, bringing you in further to his chest as you held him without any means of letting go as of this moment, him hoping that you wouldn’t feel nor hear the rapid beating of his heart while he hugged you back.

“you’re— you’re welcome.”

against his better judgement he craned his neck down, ever so gently leaning his cheek against the side of your head, guiltily wanting to further engulf himself in the sugary scent of you.

“you okay?” he murmured, and he felt you silently nod against his chest.

were you?

when was the last time you felt this way? have you ever?

and... when was the last time reno asked if you were okay? or didn’t make you feel like it was your fault for getting in trouble at your previous jobs because you stood up for yourself?

why was he such a piece of shit sometimes and yet— you always forgave him? why were you letting yuta down by allowing reno to do that..?

at the overwhelming reminder of him, it was like a switch went off in your brain, a bitter one that pulled you from the friendly kindness of yuta and back into the reality that your boyfriend wasn’t the man he used to be.

you pulled away and sent yuta a weak smile, taking a step back and readjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder.

“don’t let anyone disrespect you too, alright?” you pushed with a quirking brow, and he laughed, nodding as he crossed his arms over his chest— trying to ignore the sinking feeling he got when you pulled away.

“work hard and make them feel stupid yuta.”

you chose not to attempt to make sense of whatever the fuck was going on in your head in regards to yuta.

it's not like you could’ve anyway, because you just didn’t fucking know, the only thing being very abundantly clear to you was that yuta was the greatest friend you had probably ever had in your life.

because he spent the rest of your hangout catering to you, making you giggle or pointing out various things he thought you’d like at the farmer’s market, him sometimes coming out of butt fuck nowhere with a glittery charm strap for you that he believed you’d love, which you in fact freaking did, profusely sputtering out how much it was and to let you pay for it, all to which he refused every single time and turned a blind eye, even when you threatened him.

your warnings grew in hostility when he didn’t let you pay for literally anything, especially when it came to grabbing a bite to eat at the first proper food stand you both saw, you trying to jump around his broad frame or squeeze yourself in between him and the cash register to shove through your card, but yuta simply taking repeated steps to block you out— snickering at your huffing and puffing and giving you a pat to the head.

you couldn’t remember the last time you hung out with someone and had such a blast... to the point where you really didn’t want to go home at the end of the day.

but that was okay, you’d see yuta on monday!

“what the hell is that.”

flopping your purse down on the kitchen island upon arriving home, you gave reno a look before your eyes dropped back down to what he was holding.

“chocolates.” he replied, holding the lavish ribboned box out for you. “to say sorry.”

you tiredly breathed out through your nose as you stared at it, shaking your head after a few moments.

“don’t want it.”

you went to step around him and he quickly grabbed your upper arm, stopping you.

“no— babe c’mon wait—”

“what reno...” you sighed. “i thought you’d be gone by now it’s late.”

“why, you trying to get rid of me?” he snorted. “i got you chocolates babe come on... don’t be like that.”

“thanks now go traffic is heavy right now—”

he tossed the box off to the side on the island and wrung you in by your arm, stuffing your face in his chest.

“stop y/n.” he mumbled. “seriously i don’t wanna fight.”

neither did you? why was he just making it seem like it was you that—

“you know i love you. right?”

you bit down hard on your tongue, his words for some reason stinging rather than doing what they were supposed to do.

“hey—”

he squeezed you a bit, and you looked up.

“you wanna say it back to me? you know i've been stressed from work i thought you’d understand that.”

you pursed your lips. “i— i do—”

“but you’re acting like i did something awful.” he countered. “makes me feel like a shitty bad boyfriend—”

“no i—” you quickly shook your head, your heart aching a little as you pulled back a bit. “i don’t mean to do that m’sorry...”

“it’s just hard like— you know i care about you... i don’t know why you’re questioning that y/n. i’m trying my best—”

you gnawed on your bottom lip as he kept talking, feeling like utter shit that you’d made him feel this way and added on to the pile of stress he already had.

you knew his work was incredibly taxing and demanding... it probably wasn’t nice for him to deal with you leaving like that earlier instead of just... spending time with him...

“i really am sorry reno.” you mumbled, and he paused his tangent, a sigh flowing through his lips before he leaned down and pressed a quick peck to your head.

“it’s all good. i just don’t wanna keep fighting y’know? it sucks when you always assume the worst of me sometimes...”

you solemnly nodded.

god why were you such a bitch?

you were always mourning the man he was and yet he was right fucking there in front of you. it was you that kept driving him away and— and making him this way...

you were just expecting too much of him...

you stood on your tippy toes for a small kiss, kindly smiling up at him after.

“thank you for the chocolates ren.”

that was often how it went for you both.

reno would fuck up, you’d get mad, you’d fight, you’d storm off to god knows where until you had enough of a head to come back, he’d give some kind of gift that was waiting for you in the kitchen or your bedroom, and you’d forgive him, along with the bundle of explanations he had for you as to why he did what he did.

and it hurt yes... but you couldn’t blame him nor did you. he just had a lot on his plate and needed patience from you, and you couldn’t understand why that was so difficult for you to just wrap your little dumb brain around the task and be nicer to him.

thankfully though, the weeks that followed up until the homecoming game reno and you barely fought or had issues with each other, you spending most of your time together at your apartment watching movies or just lounging around ordering in food, content to be cuddled up with him and have him without any bickering or disappointments, which definitely helped you stay focused for the big day instead of running your head nonstop through whatever recent argument you’d had with him.

“nanami you need to smile more.”

“i am smiling.”

you snorted and playfully rolled your eyes, holding your big chunky camera back over your face to continue photographing.

“maybe try with teeth.” yuta suggested from the spot next to you, his own quiet laughter that he poorly tried to mask further edging you on into a fit of giggles.

“i apologize y/n.” nanami readjusted his footing and switched the ball to tuck underneath his other beefy arm. “i’m afraid i'm not the greatest with photos.”

you gawked.

“are you kidding kento? do you have any idea how many emails i get from the girlies asking to have you shirtless for the yearly calendar?”

nanami stilled in surprise, a rising hue to his cheeks.

“i— well—”

“i get hundreds of them. hundreds. and i don’t blame them.”

“neither do i.” yuta shrugged with a cheeky grin as you continued clicking away, the camera shuddering with each photo you took. “but maybe you should nanami! you’re retiring soon i think this could be a farewell gift to your lady friends.”

“lady friends.” nanami repeated, voice smooth and levelled as he quirked a brow. “i don’t believe i follow.”

“your fangirls.” you cut in, craning your body a certain way to capture the angle you wanted. “your sluts if you will. your good precious girls—”

yuta burst out laughing as nanami stood there like he’d just seen a fucking ghost, his cheeks pinker than ever as he cleared his throat and tried to get his head straight.

“i— pardon—”

you gasped and popped your head up from your camera.

“wait but would you actually?!”

“absolutely not.”

“nanammiiii!—”

“ten minutes ‘til kickoff!”

several players nodded or gruffed along in response at the announcement, the locker room's ambience picking up in speed and urgency as everyone tried to get in their finishing touches of prep, nervous jitters flying all around with articles of clothing being chucked across the room for some fucking reason that made you laugh.

you turned to yuta then, planting a heavy hand on his bulky shoulder pad and giving him a single shake.

“you ready?” you cutely beamed up at him, and he gulped. “to make them feel stupid?”

“i feel stupid.”

you giggled as your hand slid off him. “stop yu the game hasn’t even started yet... you’ll do just fine.”

“i hope so.” his lips curved into a wobbly smile as he looked down at you, his eyes briefly flickering to the dangling charm strap you had on your camera, the one he bought for you at the farmer’s market, his heart doing a little somersault at the sight even if he’d already seen you with it multiple times.

“you like it?” he asked quietly, his head nudging to the charm.

your head dropped to where he was signaling before it snapped back up, your eyes wide and shimmery.

“yes! oh absolutely yu i love it so much!”

he laughed softly and nodded, a happy little closed lipped smile on his face as his eyes trailed over your bubbly expression, remembering the moment when the two of you had stood just like this... and you hugged him.

he felt incredibly silly for still being hung up on that when it was weeks ago that it happened.

but what was even worse was the fact that he’d even fucking dreamt about it like a creep, entirely mortified by his subconscious mind that it’d snap him out of his sleep— lying awake for the rest of the night until the sun came up and rika was relentlessly meowing from down the hall for food.

“okkotsu.”

he pulled himself from his thoughts and turned to the source, nanami standing by the locker room exit with his helmet in hand.

“the cheerleaders are performing now on the field. you'll be able to speak to miss y/l/n after the game.”

yuta froze in alarm.

“oh yes! of course!” he nervously laughed, scratching the back of his neck and fucking flustered. “i’ll— i'll be right there...”

with a singular nod nanami stepped through the doors and left, leaving the both of you alone in the cleared-out locker room.

“you should probably get going.” you smiled sweetly before setting your camera down, adjusting the strap so the device hung by your hip. “i’ll see you out there? look serious so i can take good pictures.”

“sure thing!” he cheekily grinned, shiny and big and one that made you pause a bit to look at. “i’ll definitely try.”

you placed a palm on his padded up chest and gave him a pat.

“and play yu. just play. don't pay attention to anyone else okay?”

yuta had lost count of how many instances he had where he wanted to kiss you.

much like now, the feeling so freaking unbearable that he had to physically step back away from you, your hand slipping from the fabric of his jersey as he did.

“i will.” he swallowed, eyes everywhere but yours— his change of demeanor making you raise a quizzical brow. “don’t worry heh...”

“what’s wrong.”

he stiffened and his gaze shot to you.

“e— eh?”

“you’re easy to read yuta what’s wrong tell me—”

he wants to shove his tongue inside your mouth that’s what’s fucking wrong—

“nothing! n— nothing i swear!—”

“yuta.”

“i swear i swear please i swear!—”

“okkotsu we’re lining up!”

yuta's teammate came to his saving and he booked it to the exit.

“i’ll see you on the field!” he called out to you, and you grumbled where you stood.

there was definitely something with him...

you waved goodbye and he slipped through the doors, your mind only preoccupied with his weird behavior for a few seconds until it switched to something graver.

his performance for the homecoming game. and the outcome.

“it hasn’t been an easy night for the heartliners so far ladies and gentlemen! they’ve struggled to move the ball and that scoreboard reflects it.”

“— yeeaah that you are right buddy! they’re unfortunately down ten points behind the opposing team and time is starting to become a problem... though surprisingly not at the fault of yuta okkotsu this time around—”

you rolled your eyes and turned down the volume of your radio, pulling an earbud out and readjusting the strap of your camera.

how the fuck were commentators even allowed to make comments like that?

as much as it pissed you off, they were thankfully correct, because yuta was in fact not at fault for the horrendous play his team was doing against the opposing, them basically handing out touchdown’s like nothing almost every minute due to their big fat ego’s, as if them just shy of making it to the superbowl was something to boast about a whole season later.

“hey! y/l/n!”

you spun around to see itsuki, standing by the refreshment station with a squeeze water bottle in hand.

god.

“what can i help you with itsuki?” you replied, clicking around in the settings of your camera as you walked up to him.

“you enjoying the game?”

“i—”

“hey when’s the newsletter dropping?” he interjected, tipping his head back to squeeze a stream of water into his mouth, gulping it down. “i wanna see the pictures you took of me.”

“uhhh probably sometime by the end of next week.” you sighed, your eyes trailing over the active field to try and spot yuta. “i need to get homecoming game photos before i start editing all the other ones.”

“oh sweet! you got any of me yet?” he grinned, and you had to bite down on the inside of your cheek to refrain from snapping at him.

“nope.”

he gawked. “what?! why not?!”

“because the last time we had a photo session you were bratty and annoying.”

itsuki scoffed. “yeah right like i was... you just weren’t doing your job i had to fix—”

“what the hell are you saying?”

your heart leaped at the familiar voice, spinning around to see yuta himself with furrowed brows and a sweaty flushed face, chest slightly pumping from just getting off the field.

“what.” itsuki shrugged.

“don’t talk to her like that man she works with us not for us.”

“i didn’t even say anything? you must be glad though you’re not fucking up the game for once—”

“oh hell no— itsuki!”

your bark made him shut his mouth and look at you.

“the hell’s the matter with you? piss off and go sit back down on the bench.”

“who are you, the coach?” itsuki rolled his eyes. “i’m not listening to shit from you—”

“itsuki knock it off i said don’t talk to her like that—”

“and what makes you think i'm gonna listen to you okkotsu? hm?” itsuki spat at him. “lowest stats on a player i've ever seen—”

you stepped forward and yuta quickly flung his hands on your shoulders to stop you.

“well maybe you should start dingbat! you haven’t scored a single touchdown and you’re benched today for being a moron—”

“itsuki! you bothering the photographer again?!”

itsuki's face dropped and he turned his body to look behind him, the coach for the team standing there a few feet away with narrowed eyes.

“no sir!—”

“the hell are you doing off the bench anyway? go sit!”

itsuki huffed and tossed his water bottle in the refill bucket, not sparing you nor yuta another glace before trudging his way through the grass to get back on the bench, muttering to himself.

“what is wrong with him?” yuta mumbled, his serious eyes watching itsuki’s back for a moment until they switched down to meet yours. “are you okay?”

“oh i'm good! i don't care about that man don’t worry.” you waved him off. “he can spit at me whatever his heart desires i couldn’t care less.”

yuta relaxed a little in relief, though that didn’t get rid of the absolute irritation he felt for itsuki talking to you like that.

similar to whenever he heard your boyfriend do it.

“i’m proud of you, yu!” you gushed suddenly, and he smiled a little.

“yeah? what for?”

“for playing so well!” you smiled brightly. “you're really holding down the fort from where you’re stationed on the field. i got really great photos of you!”

a look of surprise crossed his face and he let out a breathy laugh.

“r— really? i feel like i'm not doing much...”

“you’ve caught every ball nanami’s thrown at you, right?” you tilted your head. “you’re a quarterback’s dream right now heehee!”

jesus how lovely you were.

“i— thanks!” he widely grinned, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his arm. “i appreciate it y/n.”

“mhm! maybe after the game we c—”

you paused suddenly and pressed into your earbud, listening for a bit before pursing your lips to the side.

“sorry yu i gotta go.” you pouted. “communications wants specific shots from the other side of the field.”

“oh that’s okay!” he kindly replied. “i’ll see you later?”

“yes!” you began taking a few steps back. “i’ll come find you in the locker room’s after the game!”

he sent you a thumbs up and you fully turned around, making your way through the sidelines to get to where you needed to go.

yuta was glad he was able to be of good use to you for pictures today, and even more at the fact that he wasn’t screwing up the game like he typically did, it sincerely being because of what you had told him the day you both went to the market, your advice so incredibly impactful and genuine to him that he couldn’t help but hold onto it and adore it with his entire heart.

it wasn’t like you never told him things like that though, because you always did almost every single time he saw you... but maybe it was because it was during a setting that was outside of the stadium and workplace, or because you just looked so fucking pretty to him under the golden light of the sun, whichever it was he didn’t know nor really needed to know.

the point was that you believed in him.

“you thinking about her again?”

yuta jumped out of his skin and snapped his head towards the voice, his shoulders immediately relaxing once he realized it was his cheerleader friend, a breath of relief slipping past his lips as he threw his head back.

“oh my god you scared the shit out of me.”

“sorry!” she giggled. “sorry sorry... but you were i could tell you little lovesick man.”

his cheeks burned over and he fidgeted from where he stood.

“how— how do you know...”

“yuta you were literally just staring at her walking with drool coming out of your mouth.” she shook her head and set her pompom cladded hands on her hips. “guilty i say.”

he laughed and looked down, scuffing his cleats against the grass below.

“i should really stop making it so obvious...” he spoke softly. “she’s gonna catch me one day.”

“no!” the cheerleader quickly blurted, pompoms flailing out in front of her for emphasis before she dropped them. “oh absolutely not okkotsu you’re not doing that. you're not giving up on your wife.”

yuta snapped his head up with humongous wide eyes.

“my— my—”

“mhm yup yup!” she pointed a silly index finger up in the air and wagged it. “your wife your lover the mother of your children—”

with every word that flew out of her mouth— flashed a picture perfect image of each scenario, all of which did nothing but strangle his poor little heart and make him desperately try to simmer down the butterflies in his stomach.

“i feel horrible...” he mumbled, his eyes trailing over to you taking photographs on the other side of the field. “i like her so much and i... i genuinely think it’s getting worse man.”

the cheerleader sadly pouted, matching his line of sight to you out there.

having to hear yuta hopelessly in love with you and miserable was torture for her... as the cheerleader completely understood and empathized with the dilemma of loving someone you couldn’t have.

“because you love her yuta... yeah?”

he was silent for a moment before wordlessly nodding, an expression of guilt and remorse on his face.

“yeah.”

“tell her.” she gently pushed. “please man watching you keep this all inside is making me go fucking loony i don't know how much more of this i can take i worry about you like i birthed and breastfed you—”

yuta burst out laughing and he shook his head, simmering down a little to speak again.

“you know i can’t do that...” he trailed off.

“and why not.”

“her boyfriend...”

“what— the lowlife meanie?” she leaned her weight on one hip. “no mercy for him i don’t care.”

he sadly smiled at her, the both of them holding eye contact for a bit until the cheerleader eventually sighed.

“i know i know...” she spoke softly, her gaze switching to the field. “i’m so sorry yuta i really am...”

the two of them knew that it was no use, that it was inevitable unless you took a stand and put an end to your relationship that did nothing but hurt you and kept you blind to the fact.

“please don’t give up anyway yuta.” the cheerleader smiled sweetly at him, a twinkle of gloom in her eyes that matched his. “i know it seems impossible but i... i swear she’ll realize it soon. i'm still hoping for it.”

her kindness tugged at him, and he nodded, tearing his gaze away from you to look at her.

“thank you.” he gave her a pat to the head before retracting his arm back to his side. “i’m still hoping for it too.”

“no but seriously.” she pushed again. “i remember when i was crushing on my boyfriend— i thought that there was no fucking way he could ever feel the same way about me... i was devasted for so long because i convinced myself it was impossible.”

yuta quietly listened along.

“i was in such concerning amounts of denial man... and i was fucking stupid because he was giving me signals left and right that he did in fact like me.”

she bent down and swiped her pompoms up off the floor.

“my point is— i thought i was hopeless and done for for me to ever be with a guy like him... and now i've been with him for two years! sweet right?”

he giggled, nodding with a fond smile on his face. “very sweet! i'm happy for you.”

“thank you!” she smiled. “i’m saying that you’re not hopeless and done for either... she’ll come around yuta. you deserve so much to be with a girl like her.”

that was something that yuta truly didn’t believe... for a girl like you was way too good for him and way too out of his league...

was it okay for him to think for a little that maybe— he did deserve the right to have you..?

“oh!— here comes mommy i gotta go so you can have her all to yourself—”

yuta choked on his spit at what the cheerleader said, his cheeks blazing red and her doubling over in a fit of laughter.

“i’m— i'm sorry are you okay?! i— HAH!— it’s true though she’s such a mommy!—”

“who is?” you cut in.

“NO ONE!” yuta hurriedly tumbled out, panicked hands flying out in front of him as he cupped them over the cheerleaders giggling mouth. “no one is she’s just— she’s just being funny—”

“why are you silencing my girl yu?” you quirked a funny brow and shook your head. “hands down silly boy.”

he listened and instantly dropped his hands, the act only making her cackle.

“hi y/n!” she spoke through her laughter, extending her arms and pulling you in for a friendly hug. “you doing okay?”

“yes i am my love! and you? how's your first homecoming game going? is your boyfriend here to see you?”

“uh huh! he is!” she excitedly nodded, pointing behind her to a guy sitting in the v.i.p section with black spiky hair, dark sunglasses over his eyes. “and it’s going great! i'm tired and my boobs are sweaty but i'm good!”

you giggled.

“but speaking of boyfriends...” she trailed off, wringing her pompom cladded hands behind her back, leaning forward and bouncing on her tippy toes. “how are you with yours?”

yuta squirmed as he stood there, unsure if he should leave to respect your privacy or— or stay—

“oh we’re fine.” you smiled. “our anniversary is in a couple of weeks so i'm looking forward to that.”

he felt his heart ache a little, his eyes briefly catching yours before you both quickly looked away.

“aw how fuunnn!” the cheerleader gushed. “is he still being a dick?”

yuta froze at her forwardness and you laughed.

“thankfully no! can you believe it?” you fiddled a bit with your camera, an expression on your face that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. “he’s been good we just hang out at my apartment and things... but i'll let you know as soon as he pisses me off again!”

again. that was precisely the problem yuta despised so much.

it shouldn’t be again it shouldn't ever be that...

“leave him.”

you cackled then and yuta choked on his spit once more.

“i’m sorry!” she comically slapped her hands over her mouth, speaking through muffles. “i’m sorry i just love you and he makes me so mad and i just want you to be happy and yuta lo—”

yuta felt his soul evaporate from his body as he shot his arms out and wrapped them around her head, shoving her face into the crook of his arm to quiet down her blubbering that damn near spoiled his love for you and killed him.

“ahah! hahaah—”

“yu!” you gasped. “let the girl go you’re suffocating her!”

“she’s fine!” he cheesed, a big smile on his face to mask how much he was shitting it. “did you... did you catch what she said?”

“what— her hate for reno?” you shrugged. “it’s fine it’s warranted i don’t give a fuck.”

both his and the cheerleader's shoulders slumped, thankful that you hadn’t heard her almost slip up as yuta released her, plopping a hand on the top of her head after.

“i’m sorry.” he pouted. “you okay?”

“oh thank god you did that.” she breathed out, an expression of utter horror etched on her face as she shook her head. “jesus christ i need to work on shutting my mouth i have a really bad blabbering problem it’s my worst trait—”

you laughed. “it’s okay! seriously i do not mind one bit. i've had my fair share of those thoughts too my love.”

yuta and her exchanged looks.

the cheerleader didn’t question anything else after that (out of respect... because she would’ve), and the three of you continued to have small talk until she bid her goodbye’s and skipped on over to her boyfriend in the stands, the sight making you and yuta grin as you both watched him bend down and give her a bouquet of flowers from over the railing.

“she’s the sweetest girl ever.” you hummed, sighing softly through your nose. “i’m glad she has a man who values her.”

yuta nodded along, though his eyes stayed transfixed on you— his brows pinched together in worry over something about you that he still couldn’t figure out, nor did he have the courage to ask in fear of upsetting you.

it wasn’t too long after that when the coach called yuta back on the field, his break coming to a fast close as he proceeded to then hastily prep his football gear and helmet for the game, receiving the usual words of encouragement from you with a pat to his chest before you sent him off with a cute smile, an act he looked forward to every time he played.

and today would’ve been a pretty decent day! if it wasn’t for his destined fuck up.

“okkotsu no! cut through the middle!”

your face was contorted into an everlasting wince as you watched yuta play— what was supposed to be an even pass of the ball from one of the quarterbacks to him as the receiver, yuta was unfortunately running in the wrong direction...

“oh! hard watch for the fans! receiver okkotsu was expected to cut across the middle, but he’s running down field!”

“okkotsu cut through the fucking middle! you're gonna miss the ball!” a player yelled from the sidelines, his hands in his hair and your hands drawn to your chest in absolute anxiety, not wanting to accept the fact that yuta’s mistake most likely had just cost them the game...

you watched him swivel a corner then and attempt to cut through the middle of the field, when a defender from the opposing team swooped in out of fucking nowhere and leaped for the ball— it flying directly clean into his hands, landing on his two feet and making a run for it to the end zone to score a touchdown.

“and interception! that's a costly miscommunication from receiver okkotsu and quarterback shotaro.”

“yuup that’ll do it! man i gotta tell ya, i was starting to wonder when okkotsu would make his big oopsie—”

you groaned in irritation before shutting your radio off and yanking both of your earbuds out, already moving to detach the radio equipment from your waist and get it the fuck off of you, trying to block out the mixture of roaring cheers and boo’s from the crowd as the game drew to a losing close.

“you doing alright miss y/l/n?”

you snapped your head up to see nanami, just making it off the field with batted breaths and his face glistening in sweat.

“when are they replacing these commentators?” you shook your head and finally ripped the radio off, chucking it somewhere across the grass by the refreshment station with no fucks given. “they don’t even talk about the game half of the time! they just talk shit about you guys! about yuta!”

nanami slipped his helmet off and wiped the side of his face down with a nearby hand towel.

“i advise you not to grab a radio from this point moving forward.” he spoke. “they’ve been doing this sort of thing since i made it in the nfl.”

“that's the problem!” you whined, craning your body to and fro to try and catch yuta through the massive crowd of players and employee personnel. “this industry is so corrupt and i'm getting sick of it.”

“i understand.” nanami gave you a tiny closed lipped smile, tossing his hand towel over his shoulder. “being mistreated by the nfl is a given when you’re a starter. okkotsu will find his way miss y/l/n... i assure you.”

you hummed in far off acknowledgement, nodding.

“and i assure you’ll find your way to him?”

you stiffened and jerked your head up to look at him.

“e— eh?”

“hm?” he quirked a brow, wiping the sweat off of his neck with his towel. “what is it?”

“i— what do you mean—”

he simply pointed up ahead, your eyes following to see yuta coming off the field with his head hanging low.

the fuck was the matter with you?

“o— oh. right!" you nervously laughed. “thank you nanami... i’ll see you inside?”

“of course.”

you failed to notice the slight knowing lift of nanami’s lips.

“yu!” you called out, jogging up to him. “you doing alright?”

“i'm about to get fucking booted.” he spoke miserably, pulling his helmet off and shaking out the wet strands of his hair. “i fucked up so bad y/n... they’re all gonna kill me.”

“stop silly boy.” you nudged your shoulder with his bicep. “it’s only the homecoming game it’s fine. you guys’ll just have to work a little extra to get back in the running—”

“fuuucckkk fuck fuck fuck—”

yuta ran a hand down his face in exasperation, shaking his head and actively drowning in his thoughts of self-deprivation to try and listen.

“yu—”

“i’m gonna get benched for the rest of the season y/n holy fucking shit and itsuki isn't gonna shut the hell up about it either—”

“yuta do you even remember anything i told you from our day at the market?”

he faltered, eyes flickering to you as you both walked across the stadium field, shoulders slipping past various others through stuffy crowds while you traveled.

how could he forget? he’d be stupid to forget.

“of course i do.” yuta sent you a timid sweet smile. “fuck everyone. hm?”

you singularly nodded, satisfied. “exactly. and it applies to this too.”

you were exactly right.

yuta's anxiety and guilt evidently simmered down much to his surprise, his gaze trailing down to his cleats before speaking again.

“you have anything planned for your anniversary? with your boyfriend?”

you felt a small pit in your stomach then.

“not really...” you laughed. “but it’s still a bunch of weeks away so we’ll probably think of something then!”

except you fucking didn’t. he didn’t.

because the weeks that followed reno was radio silent about your anniversary, you dropping subtle hints that were apparently way too subtle for him as he still made zero mention of the date as time passed on, your mind unfortunately preoccupied with the fear of him— forgetting while you hung out with yuta one on one, or took photos for the team to submit for the nfl network, or while sitting right next to reno on your couch— the fear never leaving you and only increased in size.

you felt it wasn’t fair nor right for you to be the one to bring it up... considering his issue has always been having a bit of a lack with planning because of his stress from work...

which was okay. truly... but you’d be lying if you weren’t hoping for— something when it came to your anniversary.

and you figured you shouldn’t have let your feelings bottle up and flat out ignore them until the day came, because you spent the entirety of it in denial that reno would surprise you with something after you got off work, that he was just trying to help you feel better about working on your anniversary period so he had something special planned up his sleeve, just— anything man anything.

but there wasn’t anything. and the bottle you clogged up with all your denial and disappointment and anger, exploded in the middle of you taking photographs for the team.

“reno— i'm seriously getting so sick of your shit what do you mean you forgot?!”

you stood with your phone pressed to your ear amidst the tunnel by the locker room, thankfully the area vacant as the football players and cheerleaders were out on the field practicing and running drills.

“i thought it was next week? shit i'm sorry babe—”

“you’re sorry?!” you felt tears prickle at your eyes, hands trembling. “how the hell could you think it was next week? i bet you didn’t even know!”

“now don’t start putting words into my fucking mouth y/n i'm stressed out enough—”

“oh my god.” you breathed out in disbelief, shaking your head. “is it really so hard for you to— to plan anything with me or— remember anything?!—”

“you seriously making me feel like shit about this?!” reno raised his voice over the other line. “you had work today anyways let’s just move it to next week whatever.”

“whatever?!”

you spotted yuta’s cheerleader friend from somewhere across the field, her already looking at you with the most worried expression you’d probably ever seen on her face, your tears then spilling and flooding over your cheeks and it enough to make her immediately drop her pompoms and run to you.

“you’re such an asshole sometimes, you know that?!” you sobbed, and the scoff that followed from him angered you.

“and you’re dramatic as hell y/n dear god—”

“—put it on speaker babe put it on speaker.” the cheerleader quietly ushered you once she arrived, attempting to steady her breathing from the jog. “i need to hear what he’s saying.”

with shaky hands and a sob tumbling out of your throat you listened, pulling your phone away from your ear and putting it on speaker.

“you know i almost got fired yesterday from work?!” reno continued. “and now you’re here throwing this in my face?! can you not think about yourself for just one second—”

the cheerleader’s jaw hung to the floor and she shook her head, quickly tapping the ‘mute’ button on your phone so she could speak without him hearing.

“don’t tell me he forgot your anniversary.”

you sobbed and hiccupped, nodding through your stream of tears.

“he— he did!—”

“—oh my god i'm about to do something really fucking bad to him that’s gonna get me thrown in prison—” she reached and gripped your shoulders. “not even flowers?! a— a kiss on the lips?! and he’s talking to you like that?!”

you only continued to cry and shake your head, your unoccupied hand covering your eyes as your shoulders shuddered.

“babe you have got to leave him i'm being so serious!” she spoke exasperatedly, giving you a squeeze. “he’s crazy! he's insane! he's— he’s broke i don’t know!—”

yuta was starting to wonder why he hadn’t seen you much throughout the day.

especially when you completely disappeared from the field at one point for an extended period of time, something you never did without at least letting him know first.

“take a thirty okkotsu!”

nodding along to his coach, he sent him a small raise of the hand before jogging off the field to the refreshment station, grabbing a water bottle from the fresh rack and squeezing some into his mouth.

where had you gone?

his eyes searched across the large field as he swallowed, a brow raised in confusion as he then turned his body around to try and spot you in the stands or— somewhere, his confusion only growing once he realized that you were literally just gone.

maybe you went home early? that was always a possibility.

he would’ve liked to say goodbye to you at least...

yuta tipped his head back and squeezed a bit more water, swallowing it down and tossing the bottle in the refill bucket, beginning to walk a few ways further off the field to fetch a clean hand towel from the utility station—

when he heard it.

uncontrollable gut-wrenching sobs that sounded a lot like they were coming from you, and a man yelling utter nonsense through a phone speaker that sounded a lot like reno.

he froze in place, heart dropping to his stomach and skin going sickly pale, his feet already hurriedly carrying him to the noise coming from the tunnel— stopping just outside of it around the corner.

“—i swear to god nothing i ever do is good enough for you y/n.”

“are you seriously making this about you?!” yuta heard you hiccup. “reno you forgot our anniversary! you fucked up! why can’t you just tell me you’re sorry?!”

“because i’m not gonna apologize over something so stupid!”

his jaw hardened.

“if it really mattered this much to you, you would’ve reminded me!”

“that's the thing! i shouldn’t have to!” you cried. “jesus what is the matter with you?!”

“what’s the matter with me? look at yourself first before you say some shit like that to me.”

holy hell it took every ounce of yuta’s body and soul not to charge in the tunnel and snatch your phone from you to yell at the piece of shit you called your man, his breathing instead growing ragged as he balled his fists up at his sides.

“reno how much of an idiot— hic!— can you be to not see— that this is your fault?!”

“you always do this!” reno yelled over the other line. “one mistake and suddenly i'm the worst fuckin’ person—”

you sobbed harder and that made yuta’s chest ache so freaking badly, lifting his hands to run them down his face— a blend of frustration and sadness and violence hitting him all at once the longer he listened to your idiot boyfriend disrespect you and hurt you like that.

“that’s— that’s not what i'm saying at all!”

“hang up the phone y/n.”

he recognized that voice to be his cheerleader friend, the tinsiest sense of comfort washing over his head that was just enough to make him not charge in there, relieved that you at least had someone with you to help you.

“you know what? if you’re gonna keep attacking me like this maybe we shouldn’t even talk tonight—”

“fine by me!”

and you hung up, squeezing your phone in your hand while simultaneously digging the heels of your palms into your eyes, your head pounding from how much you’d cried and screamed as you hunched over with your back against the wall, silent sobs wracking through you.

you were exhausted.

you'd spent three fucking years attempting to keep your relationship afloat, doing literally everything— the planning, the just because gestures, the asking to hang out, all of it and yet it seemed like it was never enough for reno, him still treating you like you weren’t even on his list of priorities to begin with.

were you ever?

“goddd—” the cheerleader whined, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you in for a tight embrace. “i hate seeing you like this... you’re too pretty to be doing this...”

you laughed a little through your tears, slumping your body against hers.

“i don’t— i don’t know what to do.” you whispered, sniffling.

“break up with him.” she gently emphasized. “please y/n... it’s a never ending cycle until you leave.”

she pulled back and gave you a sad smile, moving to wipe your cheeks with her fingers.

“trust me i've been in this kind of situation before and it fucking sucks.” she continued. “i get you. i get why you stay, but i promise you that you’re currently missing out on a great sweet guy who absolutely loves you and would do anything for you. don't let shitty stinky reno hold you back from that.”

didn't reno absolutely love you? wasn't... he the one who was a great sweet guy and did anything for you?

you didn’t even know anymore.

you silently nodded, sniffing and wiping the rest of your tears away, pulling back completely and sending her a small smile of your own.

“thank you my love.” you whispered. “for being here for me.”

“always!” she beamed. “you know that... and you also know that you need to do what's best for you, right?”

you nodded with a purse to your lips.

you did know it... so why were you still hesitating?

the cheerleader stood with you for another great while until you were seemingly okay, you eternally grateful to have such a kind friend like her through all of it— quickly giving her a suffocating hug goodbye once she was called back by her cheerleader girls and left you alone in the tunnel.

you didn’t know how much longer you stood there for until you decided to head on to the locker room, wanting to freshen up a little at yuta’s cubby and get a fast sip of water before going back out on the field, praying to god that your makeup wasn’t too fucked up.

and at the fleeting reminder of yuta you eased a little, an unknowing teeny quirk playing at your lips as you walked through the locker room doors, eager to find him out on the field and just be in his company—

“hi.”

you stopped in your tracks.

yuta was standing there by his cubby, holding the cutest miniature bouquet of lilies in his hands, his face flushed pink and a wobbly smile that made a breath hitch in your throat.

“not to be weird or anything! but... i— i overheard your conversation earlier in the tunnel...” he chewed on his bottom lip. “i’m sorry i didn’t mean to get in your business like that—”

he stopped himself and sighed, shaking his head as he looked directly at you.

“he shouldn’t forget y/n...”

a new wave of tears bubbled up and spilled, yuta’s shoulders dropping at the sight as he hurriedly made his way over to your crying self.

“no! sorry sorry i— please i—”

as soon as he got to you, you took the lovely bouquet from him and threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in there and yuta’s brain going into a short circuit.

“thank you.” you sobbed, voice to a whisper as you clutched onto him, yuta’s heart melting and his arms quickly coming to wrap around you, holding you just as tight if not more.

“please don’t cry...” he murmured through your hiccups, running a comforting hand up and down your shaking back. “i really hate it when you cry—”

“how did— how did you know i love lilies?”

he paused, blinking a little and readjusting his arms to bring you in closer.

“at the market...” he spoke soflty. “you were— you were looking at them a lot.”

something was different with yuta. or you. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

you nuzzled your face into his neck.

“he’s not good for you y/n.”

your brows slightly pinched, trying to calm your sniffles so you could hear what he was saying.

yuta never gave you his opinion on your relationship with reno.

“he’s awful to you.” he mumbled. “he cancels your dates or forgets them, he’s mean to you, he disrespects you, he makes you feel like everything is your fault when it isn’t at all—”

he pulled back a tiny bit and unwrapped an arm to gently wipe your tear-stained cheeks, his eyes sinking into yours and so serious that you couldn’t help but just stare up at him.

“he doesn’t like cats.”

you weakly giggled.

“he takes you for granted. he hurts you.”

both of his hands came around then to cup your warm cheeks— your doey wet eyes and pouty lips making words spill from his mouth that shouldn’t.

“i hate him...” his own cheeks buzzed pink and he diverted his gaze. “m’sorry but... i really fucking hate him.”

“because he’s mean to me?” you sniffled.

neither of you realized, but the space between your lips and his was getting alarmingly close— your subconscious minds gravitating towards each other, itching to be where they’re supposed to be after so long of teetering around in careful avoidance.

yuta dazedly nodded, half lidded eyes tracing over your pretty face.

“because he has something i want.”

your breaths fanned against your cheeks, and yuta could just about feel your lips grazing his, him carefully cradling your face and slowly parting his mouth to nearly slot in between yours, your peachy perfume swirling all over his insides—

when a sudden bang! sprang you both apart, your chests pumping fast as you stared at one another with panicked expressions.

“dude i almost ate shit earlier on the field.”

“idiot when?!”

“when nanami threw me the ball! i don’t think that guy’s real man he’s too huge—”

you tucked your hair behind your ear and looked down at the bouquet, the brown paper wrapping crinkling underneath your grasp as you studied it, the boastful chatter of yuta’s teammates slowly dissipating the farther they trudged down the hall, eventually morphing into mere muffles until they left you in silence.

“thank you for the flowers yu...” you spoke up after a few seconds, your tone soft and shy as your gaze timidly locked with his. “you’re the sweetest...”

he stiffly nodded, willing and begging his heart and mind to shut up about the moment he almost had with you or else he was going to scream.

“s— sure!” he smiled weakly. “any time.”

was this offense from reno finally enough to get you to break up with him? to see that he was a piece of shit and didn’t deserve you in the slightest?

because at this point it was not about you and yuta and how he felt for you, it was literally just for you, for your wellbeing and happiness, for the chance for you to thrive and be happier— freed from the chains of a man who knew how to do nothing but beat a kind girl down and blame her for his mistakes.

blame you. a woman who was entirely worthwhile and deserving of so much.

“you should probably go back out—”

yuta held his hand out for you and you stopped.

nothing mattered in that moment. nothing at all but yuta and the hand that awaited you, nothing at all but the feeling of his slightly roughened calloused skin as you took it, allowing him to bring you in closer so you stood almost chest to chest, your heart starting to race again.

and you were confused.

“leave him.” he whispered, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “please. for you... you should have way more than this.”

should... you?

“you think so?” you murmured back, and he nodded, his thumb gently grazing over your knuckles.

“i know so.”

yuta hadn’t felt this much hope in a long time.

actually— he didn’t think he’d ever. but with the way you silently agreed with him— a cute teeny smile slipping across your face, looking at him like— like he’d seen you look at your lilies... completely caught him off guard. and he would’ve explored it further if it wasn't for nanami popping his head in and calling out about a meeting the higher ups wanted to have with him.

what was supposed to be possibly the greatest night of yuta’s life, turned into the worst.

and not just with the higher ups... but with you.

PART TWO

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

you had timidly walked into one of his frat parties one night, shy, cutely nerdy, a little scared and absolutely drop dead gorgeous, your energy an entirely different one from his own as he watched you a little too much throughout the night, rehearsing his perfected plan of getting girls into bed with him as he finally spotted you alone in the kitchen after a while, approaching you.

yuta flashed you an attractive polished smile as he leaned up against the kitchen counter, practically cornering you in as you eyed him alarmingly.

“hey,” he sipped at his beer. “what’s your name?”

you awkwardly shifted, wondering where the hell your best friend was as the biggest player you’ve ever heard of was talking to you.

“y-y/n…” you stammered, your gaze barely looking at him but giving a small smile through your nervousness nonetheless.

“pretty name for a pretty girl,” he hummed. “you’ve never come to my parties before, have you?”

you shook your head no, your doe eyes finally peering up at him.

“welcome then!” he chirped smoothly and leaned closer to you, his breath faintly smelling of alcohol. “you here by yourself?”

“no i’m with a friend, actually.” you laughed awkwardly, your cheeks red with embarrassment but smiling politely through your discomfort, not wanting to offend him in any way.

yuta nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd. “did you lose them?”

“i— i guess so—”

“you can stick with me then.” he shrugged, a sly smile on his face as he sweet talked you, it slightly faltering when he noticed how uncomfortable you looked, but carrying on anyways. “you wanna head upstairs? maybe we can—”

“no thank you.”

he paused.

no?

“no?”

he was yuta okkotsu. no girl has ever told him no before.

you shook your head at him and gave him a sugary smile, your tone kind and polite as you started to walk away from him. “i’m sorry, i think i see my friend over there though! thank you for keeping me company, i hope it wasn’t too much trouble!”

he watched you walk away then in your tiny little skirt, and he felt stupidly offended. absolutely stupidly offended as he slightly scoffed and shook his head, taking a swig of his beer, his body and mind literally glitching with the foreign feeling of rejection.

yuta tossed his empty beer bottle lazily in a black garbage bag and stuffed his hands into his pockets, his long legs already pulling him over to the beer pong table in the living room, opting to forgetting the entire encounter he had with you altogether and shaking it off.

except he couldn’t. he couldn’t shake it off.

his brain was buzzing and utterly reeling over the thought of your timid nature and soft spoken words and pretty pretty face from that point forward, thoughts that aggravated him to no end that bubbled up every time he ate, slept, was in class, and did basically anything.

he didn’t know why it was happening. he didn’t know why you took over his every fucking thought as he only interacted with you for like five minutes. but your aura was different. so poised, so shy and gentle, and it was like a red string was physically pulling him towards you everywhere you went.

yuta saw you around campus a lot more after that, you sticking out like a sore thumb and blinding his vision whenever you walked past him, your smile sweet and respectful towards him that lasted only a millisecond as you walked down further, his eyes watching you over his shoulder, soft.

you conversations with him were nothing but polite and casual as he tried to talk to you again and again, your body language guarded and careful, but your voice like silky honey, speaking to him with more kindness than he deserved.

yuta never seemed to be able to get past the invisible wall you built in front of him.

“a girl like her isn’t gonna go for a guy like you, yuta.” one of his frat brothers muttered to him, having been fed up with yuta’s moping and grumbling around the house ever since he saw you.

“and why not.” he gruffed, his arms tightly crossed over his chest as he leaned back on the couch.

“because she’s nothing like us.” he emphasized. “she’s a nerd, respects herself, is way too good for you, and would never let herself waste time with a guy of your reputation.”

his frat brother patted him heavily on the shoulder. “just go back to the ones you usually go for. they’re easy.”

yuta only rolled his eyes and stood, but he really couldn’t deny what he had said. you were too good for him, way too good for him, his life completely mismatched from yours— paths never meant to cross as he solemnly watched you from afar, wanting you to smile at him the way you smiled at others, wanting you to talk about your precious nerdy interests and your studies with him like you do with your friends, and wanting you to just simply look at him longer than the usual casual hello you gave him.

but you never did.

in an attempt to try and talk to you again without seeming like an absolute fucking stupid creep like last time (something he quickly realized), he started throwing parties at his frat literally every single night in hopes of you showing up, scanning the crowd and sulking in a corner when he couldn’t find you, the bags under his eyes growing darker and darker with every time you didnt make an appearance.

he tried to go back to his old ways and hook up with the girls he usually did, tried to bury you in the back of his mind and go back to before, but he just couldn’t, his mind foggy and preoccupied with thoughts of you that invaded his every neuron, making him kiss his hook ups back lazily or straight up just cancel on them— stopping all together in the end.

it had been months, and yuta sat bored out of his mind on the living room couch during another one of his parties, not a single drop of alcohol in his system as music pumped and drummed through the frat that made his headache ten times worse.

these everyday parties were pointless.

he sat up and trudged to the kitchen, pushing past his friends for a beer until he froze.

there you stood, finally, leaning against the kitchen counter all by yourself, just like how you were when he first saw you.

his eyes flew open and he quickly smoothed over his white t-shirt with his hands, heart hammering against his chest so hard that it traveled down to his ribcage as he approached you, internally freaking the fuck out.

“hey y/n,” he greeted quietly and calm, trying his absolute hardest to convey sincerity towards you. “how are you doing?”

your eyes snapped to his and you leaned back a bit, but smiled. “hi yuta! i’m doing okay. how are you?”

he could practically see the wall you had in front of him, your posture timid and cautious, and his eyes only grew more insecure.

“i’m good! do you— do you want a drink? or something? i could—”

“oh it’s okay yuta! i’m fine,” you answered shyly, a grin on your breathtaking face.

yuta gnawed on his thumb, looking around the kitchen for something, anything that could fix the image you had on him.

the fridge.

“do you um—” he walked over to the fridge, almost stumbling over his own shoes as he opened it. “do you want maybe apple juice? or— or i have chocolate milk? or sunny d i drink like an entire dozen a day but—”

you giggled.

his head snapped over to you and watched your pearly smile, shining just for him for a moment, his shoulders slowly relaxing.

yuta sheepishly scratched the back of his neck and laughed along with you.

“sunny d would be great!”

he stared blankly, and then quickly nodded. “o—okay! yes sunny d—”

he ransacked through his fridge, knocking over several cans of energy drinks and beers before he finally found the sunny d’s in the back, tearing one out from the pack and closing the fridge.

“here you go.”

your cheeks glowed pink as you shyly took the small bottle from his hands, a cute wobbly smile on your face that made yuta’s chest clench.

precious.

he wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“i wanted to apologize—” he strained out. “for the way i spoke to you when we first met.”

you stared at him.

“it was never my intention to make you uncomfortable, and i acted like a complete dingbat with the things i said, so i just—” he scuffed his shoe against the kitchen floor. “i’m really sorry.”

you were quiet, big doe eyes blinking up at him in shock— until your frame gently deflated, eyes softening for him.

“you don’t have to apologize yuta honestly.” your soft voice soothed him, a sound he craved to hear everyday since the moment he met you. “i don’t think any less of you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“you don’t?”

you shook your head cutely, beaming. “i don’t.”

he felt like he could breathe again.

your invisible wall slowly and gradually crumbled away the more you got to know yuta after that. he was still a little flirt, but only a little flirt with you, and he still did his frat boy job duties everyday, but he toned down the parties massively and stopped playing beer pong and drinking just for fun.

it would be a lie if you said you weren’t hesitant about yuta to begin with. you knew of his reputation and the risks you ran with befriending him the way you were— you well aware that he was trying to win you over, but you saw something different in him that he didn’t show to anyone else, and you trusted him, the goodness of your heart always giving people the benefit of the doubt.

he was trying his absolute hardest for you and changing his bad traits, wanting to become a person that deserved to be with you as he listened to you ramble on and on about your classes and your studies all of the time, him smiling adoringly at you because he genuinely loved so much hearing you talk to him and listen to anything you had to say— and yuta was falling practically head over heels over the way you gushed about your little nerdy interests, your eyes shimmering every time.

“and what’s this one called?” he asked softly.

you glanced over. “that’s the corpse flower! they only bloom for two to three days every two to three years.”

“only for two to three days?!” he whispered harshly, the ambiance in the botanical garden quiet and serene as you both observed the different kinds of breeds, flowers being your specialty of knowledge.

and he wanted to know all about it, even though he had a pamphlet in his hand that told him everything.

he wanted to hear it from you.

“and this one?”

he pointed to a vibrant scarlet red flower.

“that’s the cardinal flower. they attract little bees and hummingbirds!”

your words were gentle and polite, your eyes sparkling at all of the different flowers in front of you.

“oo! and this one—” you stopped suddenly, slowly retracting your hand and looking at him bashfully, your cheeks redder than ever.

yuta’s eyebrows furrowed. “what? why’d you stop?” he looked to where you had been staring. “what about this one?”

“sorry!” you sputtered. “i felt like i was getting carried away and talking way too much…”

you laughed it off, but yuta only shook his head.

“no you weren’t. you weren’t at all.”

you peered up at him shyly.

“you can talk about anything you want with me wherever we are, y/n. i like it when you explain to me these things, or anything you know really.” he ruffled your hair. “i like listening to you.”

your cheeks adorned a pinky shade as you took in what he said, and you smiled so so big then, nodding.

“so what’s this one?” he pressed again, lightly.

the bed contained a mix of white and purple flowers, small and dainty as they swayed to and fro a bit with every breeze.

“those are pansies,” you leaned over the railing. “i like these especially because it looks like they have another pair attached to them on the other side.”

“like a little buddy,” yuta commented.

you laughed softly, “yeah! like a little buddy.”

he pointed to a specific pansy that had one white flower and one purple flower on the opposite side.

“that’s you and me.”

“is it?” you grinned. “who’s who?”

“you’re the white one and i’m the purple one,” yuta absentmindedly turned and grabbed your hands gently, playing with your fingertips— and you let him. “because you’re pretty and really fucking smart and way too nice to me, and i’m a douchebag and sometimes i’m a mean and scary old fart.”

you giggled loudly at his joke, shaking your head. “nuh uh. i don’t agree.”

“you don’t?” he quirked an eyebrow, a silly smile on his face.

you shook your head again. “you’re genuine yuta. really genuine. and you’re funny, you never make me feel embarrassed for the things that i love, and you make others happy!… sometimes.”

yuta laughed, “sometimes?” he softly placed your hands back at your sides. “yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“but you make me happy, always.” you finished off.

his eyes lit up like a firework. “really? so does this mean you’ll finally say yes to going out with me and give me a little kiss?”

you snickered and covered your mouth, your cheeks flushed. “nuh uh.”

“aww mannn,” yuta groaned and leaned against the railing, but turned his head to the side after a few seconds and looked at you, giving a tender smile.

your eyes continued to sparkle over the flower beds in front of you, but yuta’s eyes only sparkled at the one flower in front of him.

that’s where he started calling you flower.

“that’s okay!” he leaned back up. “i’ll keep trying.”

and boy did he try. each and every single day yuta tried as he brought you little treats from the campus cafe, or helped carry your textbooks to wherever you went, brought you neatly packaged flowers or sometimes would even pull his car over when he saw pretty ones on the side of the road, getting off and running to pluck them, handing them to you through the window with a goofy grin.

everything was bliss between you two, and your world only got brighter as you hung out with him.

but for yuta, his world got a little complicated.

his former hookups only grew sour once they found out about you, the girl yuta seemed to spend every waking hour with, completely blind sighted to the fact as they thought he would’ve dumped you months ago already.

and his frat brothers were just bothered. yuta wasn’t managing the frat like he used to before, like he was supposed to as their leader, neglecting the collective reputation they all had with him not sweet talking the entire female student body, or their parties not running every single night anymore— and even when they did run, yuta wasn’t ever even there to begin with, he was with you, something they quickly realized.

“you have to cut it out man,” one of them said. “this frat is turning into a shit hole because you keep spending your time with that girl—“ he stopped. “who the fuck even is she? i mean if it was layla fine everybody knows layla but—”

“who she is is none of your fucking business?” yuta snapped. “and just because i’m not sending girls for you to jerk your dick with doesn’t mean this frat is turning into a ‘shit hole.’”

some of the boys snickered.

“you wanna run the maintenance on the house? you wanna call up the fucking board and ask for the ten thousand fucking permits we have to have for our parties every year? you think you can run that?”

“no—”

“then be my fucking guest.”

“okay fine, i’m sorry man.” he sighed. “we haven’t had a party in a week though, we have to throw one tomorrow and you have to be there. then ill call it even.”

yuta snorted. call it even? whatever.

he begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to be there whatsoever but softening up to the fact that maybe he was neglecting his frat a little too much.

so when he called you up that day for your nightly phone calls, yuta asked for your attendance.

“i know— i know parties aren’t really your thing…” he pursed his lips, staring up at the ceiling as he had you on speaker. “but i’d feel a lot better if you were there… and you won’t be alone! you’ll be with me the whole time so—”

yuta sighed. “…i have been neglecting the frat a little bit, and they’re pissed at me.”

you gasped softly, “they are?”

“yeah but i don’t give a fuck.”

you both giggled.

“but i do want to make them somewhat happy so that’s why i gotta throw this party… can you come? it’s okay if not flower don’t worry—”

“of course i can go yuta!” you spoke cutely over the speaker. “as long as you give me a sunny d i’ll be okay.”

he laughed.

“i feel like…” you struggled. “them being mad and what’s happening with your frat is partially my fault yuta… i’m sorry.”

your voice was so worrisome, you feeling tremendous guilt on the other line as you bit your lip.

“what?” his eyes narrowed. “no flower, absolutely not. why would you think that?”

“because i keep asking you to hang out with me,” you spoke softly. “and i feel like im hogging you from your frat boy duties.”

yuta chuckled and shook his head. “i would ten times rather spend time with you than hang out with these fucking dummies.” he sat up on his bed. “i love it when you ask for me flower. keep doing it please. whatever that’s happening with my frat strictly has to do with me okay? not you.”

you grinned on the other end, your heart giddy. “okay.”

so the night of the party, you showed up to his frat looking absolutely gorgeous in your tight little dress, his hands instantly clamming up and his throat closing at the scent of your strawberry perfume and lovely face alone.

yuta tried so hard to keep his eyes respectful and not drift down to your ass or the way your perfect tits squeezed out from the top, almost physically slapping himself when he accidentally touched you way lower than he should have when guiding you through the crowd.

everywhere he went people were greeting him or passing him shots, him quickly acknowledging everybody and downing whatever they gave him as you shyly and timidly stuck to his body (which he loved).

yuta taught you how to play beer pong that night and cheered like an absolute fucking idiot whenever you would make it in, drinking the cups for you instead as he knew you weren’t the biggest fan of alcohol, which made you a little weak in the knees that he catered to you so much.

the party was actually way more fun than the both of you expected, especially for yuta, because he proudly had you on his arm as you walked throughout the house, you trying your absolute hardest to ignore the stares you got from different girls and not uttering a single word about it to yuta, not wanting to burden him and take his focus away from rejuvenating the frat and his brothers.

all was bliss, until it wasn’t.

“is this her? the girl you’re always talking to?” one of his frat brothers stumbled through the crowd, the one that argued with him the day before, drunk off of his freaking mind as his eyes raked over your body like nothing.

yuta instantly picked up on that and stiffened, “yeah.”

he tried his best to swallow his annoyance and be civil as he gently placed a hand on your back and softly ushered you forward, you shy and clinging onto his shirt. “this is y/n.”

“h—hi.”

“i see why you abandoned us for a nerd man!” he slurred. “she’s fucking hot. never seen tits look so good—”

your breath hitched.

“the fuck you just say?” yuta tugged you behind him. “the hell is wrong with you man? don’t talk about her like that.”

you noticed several eyes looking over.

“what!” he hiccuped dumbly. “they do! why are you getting pissed—”

“i don’t give a shit!” yuta snapped. “don’t talk about her like that!”

he scoffed, swaying a little. “what, like you actually care about her anyways—”

“are you fucking serious?” yuta stepped forward and you tugged him back, your eyes frantic as they scanned over the crowd forming and back to him.

“no yuta, he’s drunk it’s okay—”

“she’s just another one for your body count, once you fuck her you’re gonna leave—”

yuta slipped from your grasp and lunged at him, tackling him and towering over him on the ground as he fisted his shirt and jerked him up, yuta landing punch after punch to his face as the crowd yelled, cheered and recorded around you.

“yuta please!” you tried to get his attention, your chest heaving in a panic as you watched the other guy land a hit on yuta, not wanting him to get hurt over you at all whatsoever.

yuta dodged another coming hit and beat the shit out of him, grueling him down to a mere pulp as everything around him went completely white and fuzzy, his body stinging with absolute rage.

he was furious.

finally, several other frat brothers broke through the crowd and pulled yuta off of him.

“that’s enough that’s enough!”

“guys stop!”

quickly, you grabbed yuta’s hand once they put him aside and tugged him away from the crowd, speed walking to the front door.

“you’re out of the fucking frat you piece of shit!” yuta practically roared behind him as you pulled him. “you’re out!”

your trembling fingers hurriedly turned the knob and opened the door, dragging him out down the steps to the porch and across the grass, not saying a single word to him yet as he kept breathing out desperate apologies to you with every step.

once you both were a safe distance away from the house and just a tiny bit down the street, you let go of his hand and turned to him.

“—fuck im sorry i’m sorry im so sorry—” yuta shoved the base of his palms into his eyes as he threw his head back, “i just fucked everything up between us i—”

yuta knew you would never want to be with a guy like him, especially one that couldn’t keep his shit together and resorted to violence the way he did minutes ago, right in front of you. a guy like that didn’t deserve you. you deserved way way fucking more. and as he tore his palms away from his face, eyes looking up at the night sky, he knew he completely messed up his chances with you for good.

his head snapped down to look at you, his eyebrows pinched and eyes contorted in absolute guilt and agony as he placed his bloody knuckled hands on your little cheeks.

“i’m so fucking sorry he said those things to you like that that was not okay flower,” he emphasized. “and i’m so sorry i beat him when you told me not to i— i just couldn’t stand there when he was talking to you like that man—”

he dropped his hands and cursed, his arms going up as he covered his eyes again.

“yuta it’s okay—”

“no,” he shook his head and looked at you. “no it’s not okay. you deserve way more than this and no matter how fucking hard i try to do better, the life i built before you just doesn’t let me.”

his eyes got so sad, saying words he didn’t want to say, but knew he had to. “you shouldn’t be around a guy like me flower, you really shouldn’t. fuck— i don’t want you around a guy like me. you’re too precious for that. i’m gonna end up screwing you over like i always do—”

“yuta stop.” you raised your voice a little, your tone one he’d never ever heard come out of your mouth, firm and serious in contrast to the sweetness you always gave him.

he shut right up.

“come sit down with me on the curb,” you pulled his arm. “please.”

he followed you and sat down next to you on the side walk with his head down, you taking in how yuta only had one little cut next to his eyebrow, pride funnily bubbling up in your chest as you realized how good he actually fought.

he did that. for you. he made a scene out of himself and protected your name.. for you. although you hated that he got into a fight, you knew he was trying so so hard for you, going above and beyond for a year now trying to fix himself to be a better man deserving of you, and you were immensely touched, no one having put even close to that amount of effort like he was in your life.

“you don’t get to decide what i deserve yuta.”

his eyes shot in your direction “but as a friend i’m telling you—”

you huffed as you grabbed his cheeks and kissed him.

you kissed him.

yuta’s eyes were blown astronomically wide as you did, his heart no longer beating as he could’ve sworn he was dead right now, not believing that you were actually kissing him.

him.

you pulled apart from his lips with a smack, your hands still on his red cheeks. “a guy who’s willing to literally change himself without me having to ask, trying to be better for me everyday without fault for literally a year, doing everything he can to make me happy? definitely deserves me yuta. you deserve me.”

you pecked his forehead softly and pulled back again, his body going numb when you did. “so what if you beat the shit out of him? i would do it too if someone was talking to you like that i don’t care. i’d lose but i’d do it,” you giggled. “i didn’t like the fight because i don’t want you getting hurt, ever, period. but you literally scrapped him up like it was nothing, so i don’t have anything to worry about.”

he shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes. “no flower that’s the thing you’re too sweet to me, i don’t want you justifying—”

“yuta be quiet!” you whispered harshly, giving him a silly grin. “you talk too much.”

you reached up and very very gently pecked the little cut on the side of his eyebrow, feeling a cool calming waterfall wash over his body at the feeling of your soft lips finally on him, something he’s wished upon every star for.

“you’re so good to me yuta, truly you are. and i’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say this because i’m always nervous but—” you smiled endearingly. “i do want to go out with you, and i do want to give you little kisses. all of the time.”

yuta slowly let his forehead fall against yours, feeling like he was in a dream as the only emotion he felt at the moment was bliss. pure honeyed bliss as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest, his face burying in your silky hair.

his hard work had finally paid off, and he had every fucking intention of keeping up that work until the day he dies, wanting you, his shy and timid precious little flower forever in his life— you changing him for the better so much that he finally feels like he’s properly healthy, in more ways than one.

“we’re going out tomorrow,” he mumbled into your hair. “bright and early. i’m gonna take you to get breakfast, and then we’re gonna go to that aquarium you’ve been wanting to go to for weeks now, and then i’m gonna buy you a souvenir, and then i’m gonna take you to get your nails done—”

“yu!” you pulled back and giggled happily. “you don’t have to buy me anything my goodness. just you is enough.”

he bit his lip, smiling like a fucking idiot.

“really?”

“really.”

“well too fucking bad i’m gonna do it anyways.”

he pulled you back in as you laughed and buried his face back into your hair, not wanting to break away at all, feeling like the richest douchebag in the world as he finally had you as his.

you scooted your face up then and nudged him, him pulling a part in response as you proceeded to plant another sugary kiss to his lips, yours lingering as they melted into a perfect mold against his mouth, yuta’s heart absolutely soaring, your red invisible strings close together at last.

he finally had you.

finally.