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jeojahari · 3 years

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02 | kiss it better | myg

🠒 summary: you're one of the lucky ones, everyone else tells you. finding your soulmate the day you turn 18 isn't something that happens to a lot of people... but you and your other half are going to have to make a lot of progress to be able to tolerate each other.

or, you and yoongi can feel everything the other feels, and you're hell bent on causing each other pain.

🠒 pairing: yoongi x reader

🠒 genre: angst, fluff, e2l!au, soulmates!au, college au, crack?

🠒 warnings: profanity, implied smut

🠒 word count: 2.6K

🠒 notes: omg tysm for all the love im literally about to start happy sobbing rn TT i hope you enjoy this chapter!! <3

btw if my writing is not up to par at any time pls let me know, i'd hate to give you low effort writing TT

part 02: two band-aids

(series m. list)

"I am so fucking stupid."

"I know."

"I can't believe I just ran out of there without saying anything!"

"Ah. I can."

"How is it Yoongi, though? I don't understand! How can two people who are so obviously different and have zero chance at getting along be paired like this?!"

"Hey," Jimin places a comforting hand on your shoulder, "maybe this is the universe trying to prove that you can find love where you least expect it!"

You shoot him the nastiest glare you can conjure up in the moment. "You sound like a children's fairy tale synopsis. Please shut up."

"No, but think about it!" Jimin sits upright, pulling the nearest pillow into his lap. "You don't like him, and he probably doesn't like you. You hate coffee, and he's practically in love with it. The only reason you guys ever interact is Taehyung, who you happen to be in love with."

"I'm not in love with him!"

"Sure," Jimin rolls his eyes. "Anyways, this is literally the perfect recipe for romance. I feel like I have front-row seats to the best enemies to lovers story ever."

"Don't make me hit you."

"It's true, though," Namjoon pipes up from beside you. You're sandwiched between both of them in an attempt to extinguish the growing dread in the pit of your stomach. "You don't really know what he's like, Y/N. People aren't always what they seem at first glance."

"I had more than just a glance," you snap. "And I know him for exactly what he is. A fucking sociopath."

"I mean, he's nice enough," Jimin explains. "I've spoken to him a few times in passing. Maybe he just wasn't having a good day when you talked to him?"

You pause and think, because your friends are right. It's plausible, isn't it? Not every grumpy person you meet goes out of their way to be antisocial... but you can't shake off that feeling you've harbored ever since you first met him.

"I don't like this," you whine, hiding your face under the blanket. "I don't like him. I don't want to be his soulmate."

Namjoon chuckles. "Soulmates aren't always lovers, Y/N. If he's actually a sociopath, or you genuinely despise him after giving him a chance, you're not obligated to love him."

"True," Jimin nods. "My parents were never soulmates, but you know how well they get along. They had me, after all," he adds as an afterthought. "They couldn't have done that without loving each other."

Namjoon winces. "Okay, no. Didn't need to hear that."

You let out a frustrated groan, kicking your legs under the sheets. "I hate this," you grumble. "And I can't even do anything ab — oh!" You sit up, suddenly enlightened and an imaginary lightbulb over your head. "I can!"

"You can what?" Jimin asks, clearly confused. In response, you simply beam at him before doing an impromptu somersault over his legs and tumbling right off the bed, landing on the ground with a loud thump.

"Y/N?!"

"She's insane!"

"She's gone mental!"

"Is she having a seizure?"

"Do we need an ambulance?!"

"Is she okay?"

"Joon, I'm too broke to pay for the ambulance!"

You throw them both off of you. "I'm right here, very much alive, and very sane, thanks."

"Well, what was that, then?" Jimin demands. "If you were trying to show off your gymnastics skills, it didn't work. You look like a clumsy baby koala."

You point at Namjoon. "He's the clumsy one. And no, I wasn't trying to show you my nonexistent gymnastics skills." A huge smile spreads across your face. "I just discovered a great way to release all my frustration."

"By falling off the bed?"

"No, but yes." You lean in like you're about to tell them a secret. "You know... I bet Min Yoongi is cursing the heavens right now, isn't he? For pairing him with someone like me."

Namjoon stares at you incredulously. "Don't tell me..."

"She's going to do it anyway," Jimin tells him, before turning to you. "You're just going to hurt yourself to hurt him, Y/N? Are you for real?"

"It's perfect!"

"It's stupid, and usually I would tell you to go for it if you were planning to kick some dumbass's butt, but not if you're getting hurt in the process."

"Well, I'm doing it anyway," you say. You're 100% decided; you've just found the one part of your bond with Yoongi that delights you the most, and with that comes your singular goal: irritating him to no end. "And this isn't even that bad, Jimin. Wait until I'm on my period. Then he's really going to wish he never knew me."

Actually, you're screwed.

"Ouch!" you hiss, your body jerking at the pain that courses through your arm. You're forced to stop writing mid-word, the dark blue ink a mess on your paper due to these constant interruptions of your sudden movements. "What the fuck?!"

The girl sitting across from you raises her eyebrows at you, half concerned for your sanity.

"Sorry," you whisper apologetically. "My soulmate's a jerk. Honestly, I probably caused this, but I don't regret it at all."

She laughs, eyes turning into small crescents. "Hate at first sight?"

"More like at first conversation." You sigh, letting the pen fall from your fingers. "I don't know how I'm supposed to get along with him, let alone love him. We have absolutely nothing in common, and I'm pretty sure this dislike is mutual. Which reminds me—"

You bang your knee against the table in retribution for Yoongi's attack on his own arm, a satisfied smile on your face.

"Wow." The girl stares at you, rather taken aback. "That's some serious beef you two have got."

"Yep. Can't stand him," you confirm. "What about you? Have you found yours yet?"

"Not yet," she says, trying to look indifferent — but you catch that wistful look in her eyes. "Someday soon, hopefully."

"You'll find them," you say, the exact words you've repeated to Jimin multiple times over the years. "Time is all it takes. I hope yours is less of a jerk than mine... and if they are, I'm more than happy to instruct you in the ways of torturing them."

"Noted," she smiles, before returning to her book.

You, though, can't focus. Actually, you haven't been able to concentrate on anything lately — ever since this trivial back and forth between you and Yoongi turned into something more desperate and warlike, it's all that's ever on your mind.

Sighing, you stand up, leaving your place at the table to go fetch a book from one of the many shelves lining the opposite wall of the library. It doesn't take you long to find what you're looking for, but you immediately stumble over and hit the ground, nearly knocking your head against the wood of the shelf.

"Fuck," you hear someone curse in the next aisle. You know that voice, you realize after a few seconds, immediately ducking your head around the corner in amused curiosity.

"What'd you do to yourself this time?"

Yoongi scowls at you from the ground, as irked as always. "None of your business."

"It kind of is, actually, now that I feel it too."

"Oh, really? Where was that concern when you were hurting yourself just to get back at me for doing absolutely nothing?"

"You did it back! You have no right to be telling me what I did was wrong if you decided to do it too!"

"Why the hell did you do it in the first place?"

"Shh!" The librarian walks past the two of you, giving you a sharp glare as she replaces a few books with the ones in her hands. You nod apologetically to her, head bowed.

"You're so loud," you whisper a few seconds later, just as Yoongi gets himself off the ground and has managed to gather the books he'd dropped.

"You literally started yelling first, Y/N."

A deep frown makes its way onto your face. "You know what? I still don't understand why you're like this. Can we not have a civil conversation for once? Every time I talk to you it turns into a goddamn argument!"

"Yeah, well, maybe if you'd just minded your own business, we wouldn't be having this argument!" Yoongi pauses for a breath. "You always make it an argument, Y/N, I don't go out of my way to pick a fight with you!"

"Isn't that what you're doing right now?"

"No! I just don't understand your problem with me! Look," he says, a little calmer, "I know you don't want to be my soulmate. And I'm not particularly in love with you either. But you can at least act like I'm human too, right? Or is that too much for your inflated pride?"

"Did you just call me arrogant?" you ask incredulously, trailing after him as he walks back to where he was sitting. "You think I'm doing this because I'm conceited?"

"N—"

"Well, for your information, I'm not. I just really dislike you."

Yoongi tongues his cheek in frustration, slamming his book down onto the table. "And for what?" he demands. "I like to know it if and when I fuck up, Y/N. Stop repeating the fact that you hate me and just tell me why."

You flinch at his harsh tone and the sensation that sends a painful twinge through your palm. "You're just... you're so hard to talk to," you accuse. "Like, really? How am I supposed to wrap my head around this whole thing when I can't have a conversation with you without feeling like shit?"

He's gaping at you now. "I'm making you feel like shit? And you're not doing the same by basically trash talking me to my face?"

"I'm not! I'm just telling the truth; and besides, you asked!"

"Who are you to go around judging the way people are? Not everyone is bubbly and cheery, you know? Being grumpy for a second doesn't mean being grumpy for a lifetime!"

"Well, I can't tell, can I? Not when you always act like you hate the rest of the human race!"

Yoongi doesn't reply to you, just staring back at you for a few moments. Instead, his jaw clenches as he turns away without any kind of rebuttal.

"Alright," he says gruffly. "I'll go first."

Your eyes widen slightly as your frustration dissipates. You'd only meant to check on him out of curiosity after his fall, you hadn't intended for it to escalate to this scale at all... "Wait—"

"Don't bother to talk to me next time," he interrupts you, a hint of bitterness to his voice. "Since I always make you feel like shit, anyways."

"No, I didn't m—"

Yoongi's gone before you can give him any miserable excuse from your side, bag slung over his shoulder and that cup of coffee in his right hand. You catch a glimpse of his fingers wrapped around the cup, two band-aids covering the knuckles of his smallest digits, and you can't help but wonder... did you do that to him? All those days you spent wrapping bandages around your legs and arms, was he doing the same?

But you hate him, right? No matter how closely bound you two are, you're allowed to do this, aren't you?

You don't know.

You recall the sight of his worn out expression and sigh, shaking your head. Whatever it is about Min Yoongi that draws the worst out of you, you'll never know. All you're sure of is that apparently you're supposed to love him, apparently you're supposed to be his and vice versa. But you just can't.

As you trudge back to your seat, you notice that the girl from earlier is still there, still taking diligent notes — except her eyes now follow you, a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"I'm fine," you state. The words come out far harsher than intended, but she doesn't seem to take offense.

"Really?" she asks instead. "S'great if you are, but if you're not then you're just lying to yourself, Y/N."

You blink at her, surprised. "Huh? How'd you know my name?"

"You guys were yelling," she explains. "I could hear him from over here."

"Aish. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." She chews on her pencil for a second, seemingly contemplating something. "Mind if I give you my two cents?"

The girl's awfully blunt and gets right to the point, and it reminds you of your friends for a moment. Something about her just makes you want to trust her, to let her in.

So you shrug your shoulders and say, "Sure."

"Second chances only come once."

"Huh?"

She nods, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You don't really know anything about him," she says. "You don't know what's happened to him before. You could be his second chance, and he probably just took a blow after that whole debacle you two had over there."

"What?"

She chuckles softly, and you find yourself rethinking your stance on the situation. She's right, she's right, your heart tells you, but your brain is saying something else entirely, and it's maddening.

"Give him a chance, Y/N. Everyone deserves one."

Hours later, you're still thinking about what a random stranger said to you at the library earlier.

Yoongi? A chance? No, thank you. You don't need to waste any more of your time on guys that aren't going to give you the time of day once they're not interested.

And yet, a small part of your conscience says otherwise. He's not just any guy, it reminds you. You're soulmates for a reason.

You're so frustrated you want to tear your hair out. "Soulmates are stupid!"

Jimin walks into your room with two cans of soda, an eyebrow raised as he tosses one to you. "Yikes, Y/N. What's gotten into you today?"

"Min Yoongi," you grumble.

Your best friend gapes at you, nearly spilling his soda all over himself. "I'm sorry, what?"

"What?"

"Already, Y/N?!"

You're confused as you take a sip of the sweet drink. "Already what, Jimin?"

He's opening and closing his mouth, eyes so wide he looks like a clown out of those children's cartoons. "You and Yoongi — you guys — I can't believe you finally got laid!"

This prompts you to spit out the liquid in your mouth, dissolving into a coughing fit as you try and regain your breath.

"There, there," Jimin says, stroking your back gently. "I won't mention it again if you don't want me to, I'm sorry. Was he a bad lay?"

"A bad what? Jimin, I don't know what you think I'm doing, but having sex with him is most certainly not on my list," you frown.

Your best friend, on the other hand, looks totally dumbfounded.

"Huh? But you answered with his name!"

You smack the side of his head gently. "That's not how idioms work, dumbass."

"Okay, sheesh, sorry," he apologizes, rubbing his temple. "But really, though. Everything okay with Yoongi?"

"Not really," you say truthfully, "but it's fine. Neither of us are expecting anything from the other."

Jimin looks skeptical as he eyes you carefully. "You sure?"

"Mhm."

He tilts his head back, draining the can of soda as he swallows. "You know, Y/N, maybe you should give the guy a chance."

There it is again, that word. The one thing everyone tells you that you need to give.

But is it worth your time? Is he worth your time? Or is he just going to walk away and leave you broken again? Maybe you're being selfish, but you'd rather spare yourself the heartbreak process than willingly go into something you know won't be good for you.

"Yeah, okay," you lie through your teeth, soda can still nearly full in your hand. "Maybe I will."

taglist: @meiadore @kimnamjoonluvbot @im-gay-no-matter-who-i-date @fangirl125reader @helenazbmrskai @min-yus @janeelizabeth1216 @chimchiekookie @chimchoom @igotnotype @beach-bitch-bitch-beach

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#yoongi #yoongi soulmate au #yoongi enemies to lovers #yoongi college au #bts #bts fanfiction #bts college au #bts soulmate au #bts enemies to lovers #fluff #angst #crack?? idk #yoongi series #part 2 #mine #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic

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codango · 7 years

Note

I'd love anything (100) with Aone! or 3. 'You don’t have to worry, I’m here.' with anyone from Haikyuu if you're not feeling Aone rn. I'm excited for the drabbles regardless of what you write!

EDIT: It occurred to me, Anon, that you might not have asked this because you knew about my Aone fic on AO3 (That’s not what he’s saying). Hence, a short explanation: I answered your prompt as Chapter 2 of a short fic about Aone falling in love with an OC of mine, Tatsu. Tatsu makes his first appearance in another Haikyuu fic of mine (Wingmen are supposed to be supportive).

I really hope this clears up any confusion I may have caused!

--------

You don’t have to worry, I’m here (2,432 words)

It began with breakfast.

Aone didn’t think anything of it beyond how the conversation was somewhat awkward. How could it not have been? Breakfast the morning after, with Tatsu and Tatsu’s sister and Tatsu’s sister’s boyfriend, who happened to be the best friend of one of Aone’s teammates, was plenty to be dealing with on its own.

Aone didn’t even realize Tatsu had paid for breakfast until Tanaka started protesting. Loudly, as was his nature.

“You aren’t paying for shit,” Tanaka insisted. He was behind the bar, cleaning up the last of the breakfast he’d made for the four of them in his father’s pub.

“Of course not. I’m paying for an excellent breakfast prepared by a professional chef.” Tatsu shrugged on his coat, not so much as glancing at the cash on the bar. He looked at Aone. “Ready?” So casual. Like friends leaving a once-a-month get-together.

Tanaka ran a hand over his shaved head, clearly exasperated. “Look, you can’t—I mean, I just—not when I—” He waved his hand helplessly at the tall blonde woman bringing the last dishes from their table.

Tatsu raised a delicate eyebrow at her. “I can’t pay for our meals because you’re banging my sister? Need a hand there, Shizuku love?”

Shizuku set the plates down on the bar with a touch more force than necessary. “Always lovely to see you, Tatsu, bye now.” Her face was staining pink.

“But he can’t—” Tanaka tried.

“Let him leave his entire goddamn wallet if he wants to!” Shizuku barked. She shot Aone a look, half pleading, half threatening. “Nice to meet you, Aone-san. Get him out of here.”

Aone did not think for a moment of disobeying. He cupped Tatsu’s elbow, bowed his gratitude to Tanaka, and walked Tatsu firmly out the door. Reaching for his back pocket, Aone opened his mouth to say something about paying his own way when Tatsu put a hand to his chest and stretched up for a kiss.

Visions of last night exploded behind Aone’s closed eyes, and his hand reached for that pale ponytail. He wanted to pull it loose again, wanted to feel it against his face like he had hours before.

Tatsu stepped back, hand still flat on Aone’s chest. His smile was pleased. “I have to get back to the gallery,” he said softly, gray eyes roaming Aone’s face at leisure. “I have a client meeting first thing tomorrow morning I have to prepare for.”

“Oh.” Aone willed his hand to drop from Tatsu’s hair. It wasn’t easy. Of course he had to go back. His work, his life, was two hours away from the college campus. Tatsu was an adult, with responsibilities Aone had yet to know. Of course he couldn’t while a Sunday away. Frankly, Aone couldn’t afford to either, there were exams to consider—

“I can hear you thinking,” Tatsu teased.

“My apologies, Tatsu-san.” Aone bowed his head. “I’ve kept you from your obligations far too long. I can show you the nearest station.”

Tatsu blinked. “I know I should be used to your abruptness by now, but I confess my ego is reeling.” He brushed the back of his hand against Aone’s jacket collar. “You want me away so quickly?” His voice was low, with a tone that sent shivers up Aone’s spine.

“It’s not what I want,” Aone managed.

Tatsu looked up at him. “Do tell?”

“I want…” to take you back to my room. To be lazy with you today. To forget what our Mondays will bring. “…to see you again.” Aone held his gaze firm. “If I may.”

Tatsu’s eyes went wide. “Well,” he said after a moment, “it has been quite some time since someone asked so sweetly for my company.” He slipped his arm through Aone’s, his lean frame pressed tight against Aone’s side. “Show me to that station?”

Aone might have been disappointed that Tatsu really did leave so quickly. If, that is, he hadn’t pulled Aone off to the side for a long kiss and some heavy breathing. If Aone hadn’t felt Tatsu get half hard against him. If Tatsu hadn’t whispered, “I’ll call you tonight,” with his lips against Aone’s ear. Then, yes, Aone might have been disappointed.

As it was, he was staring sightlessly into his textbooks that afternoon before he realized that he had never paid Tatsu back for breakfast.

———

A couple days later, a box arrived at the house. Kuroo delivered it to Aone’s door with his dinner balanced on top. “Kawatabi made curry and way overestimated how much. You can grab a bowl if you drop some cash in the jar next to the stove.”

Aone nodded but wasn’t really listening. He hadn’t ordered anything recently. His mother always sent him an email ahead of time if she was sending a package. He set it on his bed.

Inside the cardboard shipper was a sleek black box. It was stamped with silver in a brand name he didn’t recognize. The lid lifted to reveal, nestled in un-dyed tissue paper, the most beautiful briefcase Aone had ever seen. Soft-sided, it was made of leather worked over so finely as to feel like velvet. He took a moment, exploring the pockets, testing the zippers, admiring the tooled strap, before he noticed the small card in the bottom of the box.

A-To aid in your pursuit of knowledge. Best luck in your studies,T

Aone set the bag aside immediately and reached for his phone. Two hours later, Aone was staring red-faced at the ceiling of his room, wondering if he could make it to the shower or if he had to jerk off right there. He’d intended to make a simple thank-you call. Tatsu’s voice over the phone had a way of making more complicated things happen.

Aone clenched his eyes shut, bit into the flesh of his thumb, and slid a hand down his jeans. At least he knew he wasn’t as loud as Kuroo.

———

Spring came, and so did a selection of fine shirts from a brand Aone did recognize. His father favored the workmanship but only indulged in one a year.

A-Will you be viewing the cherry blossoms with friends?The blue one would be stunning against the flowers.T

Aone went with Kuroo, Azumane, Nishinoya, Tanaka, Shizuku, and two of Shizuku’s friends to a nearby park that weekend. He handed Shizuku his phone and asked her quietly if she could take a photo. She was a little less likely to tease than the others, and he wanted to look as relaxed as he could. Not an easy feat.

“Ohhh.” Shizuku cooed over the first photo. “That blue is amazing against the blossoms!” She held up the phone to take another, and Aone felt himself smile.

Aone sent the photo late that night. Tatsu texted him immediately after. Thirty minutes later, Aone sent another photo of himself wearing the blue shirt. Technically wearing the blue shirt.

———

During one late-night call, Aone confessed to nearly sleeping through a class.

“You’re not getting enough rest?” Tatsu sounded concerned.

Aone wiped a hand over his face. “Practice, workouts, end-of-year projects. It adds up.” He would not breathe a word about how his deplorable sleep schedule was mostly down to Tatsu and his sinful phone calls.

“Ah.” Tatsu apparently bought the excuse. “It’s important to stay organized with your time management in these situations.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow when Aone wore his new smart watch to practice that week, but didn’t say anything.

———

The team’s house didn’t have a wine cellar. It would never have occurred to Aone to let Tatsu in on this fact. When the industrial wine rack showed up with an assortment of fifty vintages ranging from rare to trendy, Kuroo rolled his eyes and helped Aone clear out some space in the garage.

A- Would love to hear your opinion on the 2004 Kaesler shiraz.T

“Surprisingly floral for something so dry and smooth,” Aone said. He’d brought a bottle to Tanaka’s pub one night, with serious instruction that it was to be enjoyed with intentionality over a careful menu. Tanaka had risen to the occasion masterfully, and he and Shizuku had been fabulous to compare notes with about the wine. The three of them had gotten a tiny bit buzzed from finishing the bottle themselves that night, but what else was to be done really?

“Exactly what I thought. I wasn’t as put off by the bouquet as I thought I might be.” Tatsu laughed. “But perhaps it was where I had it? The Barossa Valley would make anything taste like heaven.”

“It must be gorgeous.” Aone had mixed feelings when Tatsu shared stories about all the places he’d been. It made him feel at once far too young for him and far too excited about all the wonder the world held for him to see.

“It was like nowhere I’d seen before.” Tatsu was quiet for a moment. “We should go someday.”

Aone caught his breath. The statement had been casual. Light. There was too little there to read into.

“Perhaps,” Tatsu went on. “After graduation of course? And if you’d rather go somewhere else first, we should talk about that.”

Aone’s lungs released softly. “The Barossa Valley sounds wonderful.”

Tatsu hummed, low and sensuous and just right for setting Aone’s skin on fire.

———

The last game of the season ended with a sound victory but at the expense of Aone’s shoulder. He’d come down from the winning block, slipped on a sweaty patch of floor, and the ligaments, overworked from three hard matches, let go on impact.

Through the ambulance, the ER, the manhandling required to set a dislocated shoulder, Aone had kept up his impassive face. Inside, his mind was a spiderweb, crawling with worry.

Dislocated joints are always weaker.

The scholarship is no good without volleyball.

The therapy will take time, but at least this happened at the end of a season.

Months of hard work and maybe I’ll be back up to everyone else’s level by fall.

I’m not ready to be done with volleyball.

I’m not ready for this to be over.

I’m not ready.

They sent him home with massive painkillers and dire threats about any activity remotely resembling athleticism for a month. Aone wanted to scream, but Kuroo kept shooting him looks as he drove them away from the hospital. He kept his mouth shut.

“Need anything?” Kuroo finally asked when they reached Aone’s room.

Aone didn’t turn around. “I’m fine.” He struggled to unlock the door with his left hand. Dropped his key on the floor. He stared at it, his throat getting tight.

Kuroo had the key in hand in a moment, pushing the door open, setting Aone’s phone and water bottle next to his bed, turning on a lamp. It was when he began fluffing a pillow that Aone reached out his left hand. “Kuroo.”

“Yes! Right, yeah.” He backed away from the bed, hands raised, grin sheepish. He was nearly out the door when he turned, chewing on his lip. “Um. Just so you know.”

Aone looked at him and tried to focus. It was probably time for another pain pill.

Kuroo ran a hand over his perpetual bedhead. “I called him. Your, uh, boyfriend? I looked up his number on your phone while you were…while we were at the hospital.”

Aone stared at him.

“Yeah, so, anyway, he’s coming? I guess?”

“You guess? What…what does that mean, you guess?”

“Ahahaha, okay, you’re right.” Kuroo edged farther out the door. “He’s totally coming. Said he’d get a train tonight. So. Yay?”

Aone’s mind latched onto something concrete to keep from spinning out of control. “Tatsu-san isn’t my boyfriend.”

Kuroo’s face lost its tension, his expression going flat.

Aone held his gaze and refused to give in.

“…sugar daddy?” Kuroo enunciated neatly.

Aone glared at him.

“Whatever he is, he’s staying in your room.” Kuroo walked out the door. Popped his head back in. “And I know that’s not gonna be a problem. I’m just saying I’ve gone through a pack of ear plugs.”

Aone walked calmly to the door and shut it in his face. If someone was going to lecture someone else about intimate noise, that someone had no business being Kuroo.

He’d had every intention of staying awake until Tatsu arrived. Unfortunately, the pain meds had other plans. When he opened his eyes, the room was dark except for the small lamp on his desk. His shoulder throbbed. His mouth was dry. He tried to sit up, groaning. How was everything in his entire body connected to his shoulder?

“Wait, hang on, what do you need?” A soft voice, a rustling sound.

Aone blinked sleep from his eyes, and there was Tatsu, getting to his feet from the floor. His jacket was folded neatly as a seat cushion against the wall, two or three overstuffed bags nearby.

“Tatsu…san?” Aone croaked.

Tatsu grabbed the water bottle on the desk. “Is this what you want? Do you need something for the pain?” He glanced over the desk, reached for a small pill bottle. “These?”

Aone watched him, silent and glowing inside. The lamp turned Tatsu’s ponytail gold. They’d seen each other a couple times since that night in Tanaka’s pub, always both of them impeccably dressed until they weren’t, both striving to impress the other until they forgot to. Never like this…Tatsu in jeans and a thin T-shirt that was probably never expensive. Aone incapable of dazzling anyone with his body at the moment.

Tatsu offered a pill and water. “You don’t have to move, I’ve got it.” Aone lifted his good hand, but Tatsu frowned. “Just open your mouth.” His voice was quiet. It lacked the tone that Aone knew was meant to arouse, but nonetheless his heart picked up the pace.

“You don’t have to worry.” Tatsu dropped the pill on Aone’s tongue with no sensuality, just care. “I’m here.”

Aone would speak. Eventually. He would get the words out that were crowding his throat. He’d ask the questions that refused to leave his brain—will you? do you want to? could we? am i? are you? do you? please? But for this moment, he scooted over on the bed. Patted the sheets next to him, never taking his eyes off Tatsu, glowing in lamplight.

The way Tatsu’s face softened was beautiful. He settled on the bed, every movement graceful, and curled into Aone’s side without a single jostle.

Aone leaned his head back and closed his eyes, smiling.

#aone takanobu #haikyuu fanfic #sugar daddies are so fun to write #fanfic prompt #part of the And Yet Here You Are AU #ao3

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