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earthtooz · 10 months

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x : AFTERGLOW :*+ﾟ it's all me, just don't go !

in which: rin doesn't realise what he has until it's gone. now that you're gone, he will do anything to get you back.

warnings: 5.2k wc, ANGST TO FLUFF, breakup, toxic relationship towards the beginning, rin is really mean to gn!reader, hopeful ending, rin is devastatingly in love and pathetic, reader and rin are adults + he's a soccer player, other characters make an appearance and are friends with reader, mentions of throwing up, mentions of food, both reader and rin cry, just listen to taylor swift's 'afterglow'.

a/n: FINALLY, THIS FIC THAT I STARTED ALL THE WAY BACK IN APRIL IS DONE. GOODNESS. i have mixed feelings towards this piece, but i cannot withhold it from the world any longer. i'm going to forget i ever wrote this and move on! this literally took three drafts to finish.

you don’t know when your relationship with itoshi rin began to crumble since it isn’t an event that can be pinpointed, not a date that can be marked in your calender, and most certainly not a reminder you can set in your phone.

your friends keep telling you that you need to think back on it, that although it hurts, it was a necessary step in healing and getting over him. the more you reflect on it, however, your heart would only shatter into more fragments, with each one piercing you with the memories of better times.

when did his expression turn sour? when did he begin looking at you with such disdain? when did he decide he didn’t need you anymore?

when did rin’s chips of insecurity wedge themselves between you?

the only memory that serves as an answer occurred at 7:00 pm one regular night. if you think hard enough, you can remember how the plush couch cushions sank under your weight, the clicks of the clock that had a second hand minutely too fast, and the sinking feeling of premonition in your gut.

the latest rin ever comes back is 6:00, and if not, he would have let you known why he wasn’t home.

so where was he? the takeout you bought for dinner is getting cold and your stomach is growing louder and more impatient by the second. you didn’t want to eat without him though since it’s something you did daily; eating together as a way of debriefing and letting go of the stress that the day brought.

after an onslaught of unanswered phone calls from you, at 7:15, rin merely texts a ‘won’t be home for a while. eat without me’, and although rin was naturally curt and straightforward, the text had a depravity of… him, somehow. either way, his message causes a swirl of emotions in your stomach; unpleasant ones that begin to grow a nauseous shade of green.

you put rin’s takeaway in the fridge regardless, sending him a quick text telling him to be safe and that you’ll see him soon.

he probably got caught up with something. you’re sure it’ll be fine.

you shouldn’t have ignored that sinking feeling of premonition. shouldn’t have pushed down the unease swirling in your stomach when shutting the door to the refrigerator before stalking over to the kitchen island with slow steps as you prepare to eat in silence. no one to keep you company except your own thoughts and the ghost of rin’s presence.

and when rin does come home almost two hours later, he stills calls your name as usual, you still go to him as usual, he greets you with a tired smile as usual, you hug him as usual, he doesn’t kiss the top of your forehead, though. you ignore it, pushing your thoughts aside because he was home. he finally came back. you’ll wake up tomorrow and this uneasy feeling will sort itself out.

except it doesn’t.

from that night onwards, rin changes. slowly, but surely, the cracks of change manifest in your relationship and through it all, you choose to cast a blind eye, plastering over it with sightless belief in your love.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the queasy feeling in your gut never stills. it fades at times when your mind is busy with other things, but it inevitably gets drawn back into the whirlpool of concern regarding your lover- or, rather, rin.

you think you’re still in a relationship, but you don’t really know anymore. you haven’t seen him in a while. the only indication of his existence that you get are the stray bowls he leaves on the kitchen counter whenever he’s done eating, the lessening weight of his protein powder containers, and the decrease of various food items from the fridge that you restock here and there.

it feels like you’re living with a ghost.

some nights, when it gets the most lonely, your mind betrays you, completely eliminating any and all trust you had in rin.

you wonder if there’s another person. another lover that he feels more passionately for. another lover that his heart had gravitated towards, abandoning yours in the process. perhaps that is the explanation behind his absence.

but no evidence points towards that conclusion. there has been no suspicious deduction of bills from his bank statement that would suggest infidelity, his location is constantly at the sports stadium whenever you check, and there are no traces of a lover on him- not even you.

it is not totally blasphemous to assume that itoshi rin wouldn’t be engrossed in soccer to the point that he’d spend unhealthy and obsessive hours into honing his abilities, but it feels a little traitorous that he could forget about life outside of the sport. it isn’t just you he’s neglecting. his mother and father have been constantly asking when he’ll come over to spend some time together, his teammates have been asking you about rin’s whereabouts and when he’ll be free and what’s worse is that you never know how to answer every time.

it’s embarrassing to be seen as a lover that is forgettable enough for rin to dismiss, so you lie and lie and lie, telling everyone that you’ll tell them later, that he’s fine and just busy, and you lie to yourself. you tell yourself that rin will be home soon so you two can talk about it, and then everything will return to normal.

(your reflection looks through your facade, disheartened and worried.)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“why are you late?”

you jump at the voice that greets you when you step foot in the apartment and the sight before you causes you to wonder just how tired you feel, because rin is in your apartment, where he’s meant to be, for once. not only that, but he’s leaning against the couch, adorned in loungewear and slippers, and the sight is too foreignly domestic for your comprehension.

coming home to a house with someone there feels nice.

he’s lost a little bit of muscle and fat, but his frame is still as intimidating; shoulders broad and built, just the faintest indicator into the athletic body he’s developed over the years. his hair is a little longer too.

“oh, rin, hi.” you mutter, surprise evident in your tone.

“hello.”

“since i got a promotion,” you respond simply. rin makes no move to approach you, no initiative to take your bag and put it on the couch for you. instead, he stays rooted in his position leaning against the couch, arms crossed.

the air around him feels hostile, and suddenly you’re almost afraid to speak. “and does that promotion change your work hours or something?”

(he doesn’t congratulate or celebrate your achievement.)

“i work with flexible hours now but the office is further and the commute is so bothersome.”

rin uncrosses his arms with a thoughtful hum, gaze glued to the floor, mind occupied. you approach him slowly, pulling your bag off your shoulder and setting it in the entrance near the genkan with a thud, the sound sobering to him.

when he looks back up, you don’t want to acknowledge the emptiness in his icy eyes, barren of the usual determination that defined itoshi rin. but if you knew that that day would be the beginning of the end, perhaps you would have done something about it.

when you opened your arms for him, perhaps you would have hugged him a little tighter, a little longer, strained all the stress out of his shoulders.

perhaps you would have protected him a little harder from the cruelties of his own mind; shown him that the world was not out to get him, and that there was a place for people like him in the world (people who can’t see their own value and instead, berate themselves for their waning self-worth because they cannot see the light behind them).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“i’m going to shower,” rin declares once the moment both of you step in the safety of your shared home.

“no, you’re not! not before we talk,” you demand, hurriedly taking off your shoes so you can face him before he slips out of your grasp. the dark-haired turns to look at you with an unamused expression, the way tonight seemed to drag on obviously taking a toll on him.

“you’re gonna stop me from taking a shower, really?”

“yes because what the fuck was going on with you tonight?”

he narrows his eyes into slits, the pure intimidation that rin naturally emanates almost threatening you into submission. however, for the humiliation you’ve had to endure tonight, you won’t budge.

“i don’t understand,” rin says monotonously. you roll your eyes.

“you don’t understand? what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know what you’re getting mad over.”

“the fact that you didn’t even try to talk to me- let alone look at me, once this entire night?”

your partner looks away, crossing his arms over his chest. “that’s an exaggeration,” he huffs.

“no it’s not!” you recall the looks of pity sent your way when rin sat beside you unmoving and unresponsive to any conversation you tried to make. “would it have killed to show you some sort of interest?”

“would it kill you to not receive attention for one night?” he retaliates.

“it’s not about that-”

“really? sure feels like it. i don’t have time to shower you with all my attention, y/n, there are other things i have to do.”

there are a million things you want to say to rin, a million emotions that you have felt whilst he’s been absent, a million examples of how he’s been leaving you behind and how you’re now fed up of keeping these millions to yourself. yet, not a word leaves you, too stunned by the stranger in front of you to voice it all out.

rin, however, takes your silence as defeat and turns to leave.

“you’re being dramatic. i’m going to shower before i waste anymore time with this lukewarm conversation.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the night your relationship officially fell apart is one you still remember vividly, because it only happened a few days ago.

in your memory, the night was nearing 9pm, yet rin had still not come home.

your heart takes you to him because as much as your relationship with him has caused you nothing but pain recently, you know itoshi rin. you know him because you’re soulmates and where he goes, there’s a fragment of your heart that follows.

the drive to the practice pitch is nothing but heavy. heavy with your anticipation and stress, you feel your chest constrict and tighten, especially when you pull up into the very empty parking lot.

“rin!” you shout for the fifth time and only then, does the dark-haired look up at you from where he’s doing dribbling drills. he almost trips over the ball from your interruption.

“wha- oh,” he turns away just before you can catch the roll of his eyes, the snarl of frustration (one that lovers should never bare at each other). “what do you want?”

you pause a few feet away from him, utterly gobsmacked with the attitude your partner was showing you. after driving all this way, the least you’d want is a little concern, but alas.

“it’s time to go,” you stand your ground. “i’m here to pick you up.”

“yeah, right, i’m not going home.”

“that’s ridiculous! are you not tired?”

“no.”

“rin. c’mon, that’s enough, you need to rest.”

“what the fuck do you know about being enough?” he asks.

the silence is deafening and most hurtful.

you stammer out the only response you can, “wh-what?”

he doesn’t give you anything. unrelenting, he is. rin has always been the embodiment of stubbornness served cold. not finding much productivity in his silence, you continue speaking with a wavering voice. “let’s go home. please, you shouldn’t be working yourself like this-”

“-leave me the fuck alone!” he finally comes undone. “can’t you see that i don’t have time to deal with headaches like you?”

the thread keeps unravelling.

“fucking lukewarm. i can’t deal with this right now, i don’t need you here.”

“fine,” you murmur. rin has his back turned against you and he prepares himself to kick another ball. “i’ll leave then since you don’t need me.”

when rin arrives home that night, he reasons the unease churning in his stomach on the physical exertion of practice as nothing is out of place. the apartment is as kept and tidy as it typically is, the lights are off because you’ve gone to bed, and there is a meal on the kitchen counter sealed by plastic wrap.

he won’t eat it because he’ll want to throw up otherwise, so rin tucks it neatly into the fridge, not thinking twice about the emptiness on the shelves, right where your favourite drinks are normally kept.

the athlete washes up quickly and efficiently, a good night’s rest sounding too appealing for his battered body that felt as heavy as lead.

that night, sleep takes rin and lulls him into a temporary sanctuary, protecting him from the reality that he would wake up to. because when morning comes, he will turn and find that you are not beside him like he expects you to be. your side of the bed is untouched, devoid of any warmth or indicator that you were there.

he checks the bathroom- you’re not there. he calls your name in the hallway- you don’t respond. he scans the kitchen, the study, the living room, and finds nothing but loneliness in each room. there’s no text from you indicating that you were elsewhere.

you’ll return, though. rin’s sure of it.

except you don’t, the hours pass by with rin anticipating your return, and his confidence slowly dwindles with each minute. by the time it’s been 24 hours since he last saw you, his patience runs thin. finding your contact, rin presses the ‘call’ button and is surprised that it does not go through, stopping him after only one ring when an automated voice says ‘this caller is unavailable’.

the dark-haired stares at your contact in contempt, furrowing his eyebrows when all of his following attempts receive the same treatment, but rin continues stubbornly because you couldn’t have blocked him, right?

was it because of what he said? he didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean to blow up on you like that- how is he supposed to say sorry if he can’t even reach you?

checking his private accounts on various social media, he sees that you’ve blocked him there too. running in to the master bedroom and checking the closet, half of your clothes are missing, and the bag you keep on the shelf is missing too. the bathroom lacks some of your products, your laptop and various chargers are gone from your study space, and the heaviness of your absence hits itoshi rin like a train.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you never did come around to collect your stuff. rin finds a little bit of pain in that fact.

he feels like a ghost, haunted by the trinkets of you that remain littered around his apartment. he doesn't have the heart to throw them out, not when they're the closest thing to you he can get.

a few times rin sees you in his dreams. a few times he sees you in his nightmares, looking completely hurt and run-down by his recklessness and neglect, but most mornings he wakes up feeling emptier, no one to turn to on your side on the bed. not anymore. there’s no body to hold when he needs it most, there’s no one to keep him company whilst he eats dinner, there’s no love. not since the day you left.

you, on the other hand, find it odd to live life without a second person in the periphery. you thought rin was the one for you, you never had any thoughts about what life could be without him because you were certain that it would be him that you spent the rest of your years with, so learning to accommodate without him is gnawing you away, the little bug of loneliness festing on your newfound independence.

you’re seated on the floor of your best friend’s living room when reo texts one day, interrupting your apartment hunt.

reo: Are you still coming to my party?

you scrunch your eyebrows at the text, unknowing of where it was coming from.

y/n: not anymore. what’s up?

reo: Why not :( reo: Please it’d be so fun

y/n: don’t you know that rin and i broke up?

reo: Ok but he’s definitely not coming reo: It’s Rin, he doesn’t have a life so you’re fine. Pls say you’ll come

reo: Plus he’s been all mopey ever since so I don’t think he’s in a party mood

you dutifully ignore the last part of reo’s statement. after a little more coaxing, he finally manages to get you to agree to come, but not without a feeling of apprehension settling in your gut. still, it would be a shame to miss out on an invitation from a friend because of it.

besides, reo’s bargain of offering to buy your outfit was too tempting to let go.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“practice was rough,” bachira murmurs, flopping on the sides of the soccer field with a sigh. his sweat causes his hair and clothes to cling to his skin, and isagi takes a seat on the bench beside his best friend, tossing the dual-tone haired his water bottle.

wiping the sweat off his forehead, isagi agrees with a hum. “i know. i just want to go home.”

“i don’t know how rin does this, staying overtime and all of that.”

“he’s insane. it only got worse after his breakup and everything.”

bachira frowns, looking over to where the dark-haired in question is standing. “i feel bad for rin-rin, seems like he’s not taking it well at all.”

a beat of silence passes before bachira speaks again. “you know y/n’s coming to reo’s party this weekend?”

the black-haired wipes his mouth before setting the water bottle down. “really?”

“yeah. reo told me.”

“that’s nice, it’s been a while since we’ve seen y/n so it’d be nice to catch up.”

“i wonder if rin knows.”

“i doubt it,” isagi reassures, “he hardly goes to parties like the one reo’s throwing.”

“maybe that’s why y/n agreed in the first place.”

“probably.”

a cold voice suddenly cuts the two from their conversation “y/n’s going to reo’s party?”

isagi feels his blood cool over before looking up. there, stands itoshi rin, who has a frazzled, yet equally determined look in his eyes, one that isagi has not seen in a while (not since you left). “what? no! where did you hear that from?”

bachira laughs nervously, “you’re hearing things, rin-rin!

but they are soccer players, not actors or professional liars. “shut the fuck up, asshats. y/n’s going to reo’s party this weekend?”

the two exchange a look and their silence is the only answer rin needs.

“hold on, you’re not thinking of going, are you?” isagi asks, accepting defeat and now switching tactics.

“why wouldn’t i? my partne-” he pauses. “y/n is gonna be there.”

“yes but-”

“-you can’t stop me from going, so don’t even think about it.”

without another word, rin is gone, stalking away with a scary determination that was previously dormant.

“what did we just do?” bachira mumbles. “should we tell y/n?”

“nah.”

“agreed.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you should have never come to this party.

how stupid and foolish of you, but how utterly cruel of the universe to let you hurt like this, to let the same pain that has walked all over you for the past few months return; this time ramming into you with the ferocity of a bull, knocking the air out of your lungs

“y/n!” comes the dreaded call of your name. you walk a little faster, breaking into an-almost sprint.

“y/n!”

“for fucks sake- y/n!” this cry of your name is broken, rasped and pathetic, and your chests clenches from how pained it sounds. like a howl from an injured wolf, it is broken enough for you to pity it, luring you into a trap that will inevitably end in chunks being torn from your heart, but you don’t have much left to spare, so you keep running, no matter how badly you want to give in.

except it’s not enough to deter rin, nothing ever be when there’s a goal in sight, especially one so close that he can taste it.

“y/n, please, i need to talk to-”

“-go away, rin!” you cut him off, hugging yourself tighter to shield yourself against the cold and rin’s pleas from piercing you.

“not until you listen to me!”

fury powers you, igniting you with the courage to turn around and finally face him. you don’t look him in the eye, keeping your gaze elsewhere, but he shuts up nevertheless, awestruck by finally being able to see you face-to-face after being so long away from you. all words die on his throat, withering away to nothing as his eyes slightly widen in shock.

you’re just as beautiful as the day you left; perhaps even more so.

rin wonders if your radiancy was birthed by his absence, and if the answer is ‘yes’, he might wither away on the spot.

“it’s always about you isn’t it?” you shout. “always about what you want and never about what others want. you said you wanted me to leave, so i did! what more could i possibly give?”

he gulps, utterly entranced as his heart makes itself known in his chest, racing wildly and vividly; the first indication that it was alive and hadn’t been replaced by a gaping hole in your absence. he hasn’t felt this human since you left.

“i didn’t mean for you to actually leave,” rin confesses shakily.

“well, it didn’t seem like you wanted me to stay either.”

“no, that’s not-” he falters. “it’s… not the same without you.”

you hug yourself tighter. “i don’t believe you, you’re just saying that now that there’s nobody to warm your bed.”

“no, it’s not like that- i don’t like living without you,” the athlete continues, admitting something so heavy with such airiness.

“you can’t just say that after so long. not when you’ve been living without me months before we broke up.”

there are a million and one things that rin wants to say to you, but none of them break through the whirlwind that is his thoughts, rattling around in his brain on overdrive and overwhelming him with the intensity of them all. one thing he knows for sure is that you are the single muse behind all of them, the only thing that is keeping him sane amongst the flurry of disturbances.

then, you shiver from the chilly breeze of the night, and the whirlwind is silenced into oblivion to awaken a dormant instinct of his instead. one that commands him to fulfil a duty that he’s not inclined to do anymore.

quickly, rin takes off his jacket and holds it out to you, as if expecting you to take it.

he drops it when you don’t, hope dwindling in his stomach.

swallowing weakly, he then asks “would you ever give me a second chance?”

“you’ll hurt me again,” you glance away, the street lamps highlighting the melancholy in your profile as rin observes you closely. his eyes outline the curves of your face, each divet and slope that he used to trace with his hands now out of his reach. “you take and you take, but you never give and i’m so tired of it.”

“don’t say that,” he pleads, voice barely louder than a whisper as the dark-haired takes a heavy step towards you. “you’ll break my heart.”

“i shouldn’t love you anymore, you’re bad for me.”

“then i’ll be good- i’ll become whatever you want me to be-”

“-we won’t work like that.”

“we’ll work as long as i’m yours again, just, let me fix us, i’ll do whatever it takes. i’m not giving up like this.”

the first tear makes herself known and paths the way for your downfall like a tsunami, washing away whatever you had built up during your time away from itoshi rin; the good and the bad. the hurt and the healing, all undone by a singular, stray tear. in your vision, he becomes nothing but a blur, a kaleidoscope of colours that you once loved.

a kaleidoscope of colours that you still love, much to the chagrin of your broken heart.

a hand wraps around your wrist, a warm shackle that grounds you to rin like he’s your lifeline. no matter how bad you want to push him away, something in you will always bend to him.

“don’t cry,” he pleads, voice airy and breathy. “i’m sorry, please don’t cry.”

please don’t cry because of me.

“i don’t want to be with you if it means i need to go through all of that again.” you whisper, slipping out of his grasp like sand and wiping away your own tears, rejecting his callous and prickly touch.

rin’s world dims as panic seizes his throat. “please don’t say that, you don’t mean it.”

“i do though. you left me first, don’t you know?”

“-i do.”

“and now i’m not yours to care about anymore-”

“i know, i know,” words are merely spilling out of his mouth without much purpose at this point, because he’ll do anything just to delay you leaving, to push back the possibility of you turning around and never seeing you again. why did he have to break who he loved so much?

still, he pleads for another chance, desperation shining in his eyes as pure longing fills him. you have always been too good to him, he knows, but like the tumultuous tides and their inability to stray too far from the shore, rin will come back to you with his undying devotion.

even if he thinks you should find someone better than him, that you should be adored by someone who could love you so much better, he can’t let go. to let you go is to let go the one good thing that came to him in life,

you exhale shakily. “we’ve loved each other for too long.”

“what do you mean?” he stutters, eyes widening helplessly.

“i have loved you too much for too long, rin,” you choke, “there has to be an end to us somewhere in sight- you need to accept that.”

“no,” his look of absolute devastation causes a physical recoil in your stomach. “no- not long enough, it’ll never be enough, fuck- even forever won’t be long enough, i can’t let you go like that.”

he crosses the distance between you in the blink of an eye. you can’t see him clearly under the dim light of the night, but you can feel him, so close and so overwhelming, but so cold as his hands come to grasp yours. his grip is firm, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel his determination.

tears dance along his lashline.

“please, tell me you’re still mine,” begs the dark-haired. rin’s tears are diamonds, in which they are precious, but they also crumble into a precious waterfall that rolls down his cheeks, tempting you towards his beautiful ruination.

words continue to tumble out of him, each one sharpened to pierce your defences. “tell me that we’ll be fine, that i’m all you want, please. i’m so fucking sorry for hurting you, but please don’t leave me.

i’ll fix us, i’ll become everything you need, i’ll be good.”

the dark-haired’s hands find their way to your face, cupping each side of your jaw with a scary gentleness; one that you’d never expect from someone as ragged as itoshi rin.

“i love you,” he declares, so raw, so full of passion that it makes you sick. the rin you know never lets his heart on his sleeve like this.

you cave. “how will you fix us?”

slowly. he’ll rebuild everything that you have given him.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

first, rin takes you out on dates again. calls you beautiful and really means it.

second, rin leaves practice at regular times, and listens when you tell him that he needs to take care of himself. because for you, he will.

third, rin picks you up from work. his practice ends a little earlier than your job, so he always goes the extra mile to be there for you at the end of the day. even if you tell him that he doesn’t need to go out of his way to do so, he’d rather see you get home safe than only receiving a mere text of confirmation.

plus, it gives rin more time with you.

fourth, rin sends you regular gifts. from bouquets, to random items that he just knows you’d like, they all get left at your door at the best times.

fifth, rin lets you set the pace. you wanted things to go slow so that you two didn’t have to force anything back in place. no point recreating something that’s in the past, you reasoned, so might as well try again.

sixth, rin takes his time in welcoming you back into his space. it’s a few months after you two have reconciled, and majority of your items are back where they belong (you poked fun at him for not being able to throw away the stuff you did leave, and he just mumbled something indecipherable, all embarrassed, before moving on). the life has been restored in his apartment, now filled with more remnants of you loitering around his space: your various chargers and laptop, your products, your clothes, they all sit beside his things like that’s where they are meant to be.

and you are back in his arms, because it is where you are meant to be (more for his sake than yours).

rin stirs awake one morning under the gentle light of the morning sun and you’re there beside him, occupying the space that he has left devastatingly empty. mattress still curved to your frame as he never dared infiltrate it, in hopes that you would return.

now that you have, you feel too warm, too familiar, too unreal that he wonders if you’re just another dream of his.

then, you stir, and press yourself closer against his chest, face to face with the heart that only beats for you.

a stray tear rolls down rin’s face; a salvation for the utter relief he feels, as well as the overwhelming amount of adoration that he stores for you. his ‘i love you’ is sweeter than the chirping of the birds outside, and certainly more meaningful as he wraps more of himself around your sleeping figure, hoping to attach all of him to all of you.

you’re home. he won’t let you leave again.

#itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock fluff #blue lock rin #itoshi x reader #blue lock itoshi rin #itoshi rin drabble #itoshi rin x gn!reader #I HATE THIS SO MUCH

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hyunniesgirl · 5 months

Text

Tease

Pairing: Changbin x fem!reader

Summary: tired of months of teasing, Changbin just wants to have you and he's going to do anything to make you his.

Or, the one where you were kink shamed and can't trust sexual partners anymore, until Changbin shows up and sweeps you off your feet.

Words count: 4,281

Warnings: dom!Changbin, sub!reader, throat fucking, slaps(?), degradation, oral(f & m receiving), spit, use of pet names(bunny, baby), reader is called names(whore), unprotected sex(use protection irl), let me know if I forgot something

A/N: as usual let me say that I can't write smut to save my life, but I got this idea a few weeks ago and left it in my drafts, then I received this ask and I thought it fits so yeah that's it

This content is 18+, minors do NOT interact

The first time you had sex, was weird. You thought that maybe it was always like that, maybe you really wouldn't feel much pleasure on your first time.

Then, your second and third time came and you noticed you didn't feel the same way your friends told you they felt during sex. Even though you were attracted and even loved the people you slept with, you just didn't come, you didn't enjoy having sex.

That was, until a guy you dated slapped you, while trying to change positions. Although it was unintentional, that was the first time you ever moaned for real while having sex with another person. You two stopped for a moment, him trying to process what just happened and you coming to a realization: maybe, you were just going about sex the wrong way, maybe you didn't explore your options enough.

You began researching, reading about kinks and whatnot. You asked your boyfriend for help, you wanted to try new things and after that, sex was finally good. You finally understood what your friends were talking about when they told you about their sex lives.

However, that didn't last for long. Your boyfriend was not as nice of a guy as you thought. You found out he actually shared every bit of your kinks with his friends, calling you weird and saying he just went along with it because you were attractive enough.

He left his phone unlocked while going to the bathroom and you saw a text of his friends, making fun of you and the things you like.

It's an understatement to say you were left traumatized after that relationship. You know there's absolutely nothing wrong with what you like in bed, but to trust someone again was too hard.

You were so afraid of going through the same thing again so you just stopped dating altogether.

With that being said, you didn't stop teasing. That is the only thing you can have while still not sleeping with men, so you enjoy making them suffer. Leave them hard and hanging, that's your thrill.

They would all give up in a bit, a few weeks of teasing, without actually sleeping with them was enough for them to be done with you.

Until you met him.

You knew you wanted Changbin since the first time you laid eyes on him. He's just so attractive you think you could cum just by looking at him flexing his muscles. He's big, so big he could probably break you in half if you let him.

You don't know what is it about him. You felt attracted to other guys like him before, gym bros are not usually your type but some catch your eye once in a while. However, Changbin has something more, he's not just hot. He's funny, a great dancer and he's just so sure about his masculinity that he doesn't see it necessary to keep reiterating it all the time like other guys do.

You still decided not to sleep with him, you are part of the same friend group, so he knows everyone you do. You really don't think he's the type to brag about his feats in bed but if he ever ended up being like your ex boyfriend, you would never be able to look at your friends again.

You are not ashamed of your preferences, but at the same time it's just something so intimate you wish only you and your partner would know about it.

You thought he would give up like the others, maybe in a month he would get over it and stop trying to win you over. But you were wrong, it's been months already and you're stuck in this cat and mouse situation with no sign of him letting go.

It all started when you met the boys for the first time. Your best friend, Ryunjin, talked all the time about these guys she met at a party, how they became super close and that you'd love them.

It was Ryunjin’s birthday, so you met them at a restaurant. Your eyes scanned through all of the boys when you arrived, they were all too good looking, is it even possible for a whole friend group of seven people to all be so damn attractive?

“Wait, seven? Didn't Ryunjin say they were eight?”

You felt a hand slightly touching your back, turning around to find kind eyes staring right back at you.

“Are you going to sit, miss?” He asked.

“Y-yes”, you stuttered, trying to compose yourself.

“Why were you so late?” Ryunjin asked, you're not sure if she's speaking to you or the guy.

“Traffic was insane”, you two answered together, snapping your heads to look at each other, smiling playfully.

“I'm Changbin, by the way”, he said, pointing at the empty seat and pulling the chair for you to sit.

“I'm y/n”, you answered shyly, seeing him sitting by your side even though there were plenty of seats available closer to his friends.

As you drank a bit through the night, you caught his lingering eyes on you too many times and you're sure he caught you eyeing him up too. He made jokes, throwing his arms to the back of your chair and coming closer to you.

The amount of times you just wanted to tell him to take you home was actually crazy, no man ever made you feel that way. The warmth you felt when he got close to you was something hard to explain, you felt all your insides turning around and your pussy was throbbing just by feeling his breath hitting on your skin when he turned in your direction to speak to you.

You were able to escape that night, forcing yourself to say goodbye and walk away with all the willpower you had in you.

Things didn't stop there, though. It became usual for you to hangout with the guys. They are always so nice and cheerful, it's great being around them.

Changbin is always close to you, making jokes so he can see your beautiful smile, taking the opportunity to touch you at every chance he gets. Sometimes he'll put his hand on your lower back while walking with you, other times he'll touch your arms while talking. If you are eating together, he'll nonchalantly lick his finger and press it to the corner of your mouth to clean the mess you made on your face, like that's not the hottest shit a man can do.

He's just always there, the first one to hug you when you arrive, the one who walks you to your car or uber when the night is over. His clothes are the ones you sleep in when they invite you to a sleepover and to say you don't have wet dreams all the time, while sleeping embraced by his scent, it would be a lie.

"Why don't you just fuck him?" Ryunjin asks, while you eye fuck Changbin from the other side of the room. You're in a corner of his living room, there's music playing in the background while everyone is waiting for the food you all ordered. He's looking so good with a black tight t-shirt that outlines all his muscles and baggy sweats that do little to hide his nice ass. You're probably drooling at this point.

“You know why”, you tell her, Ryunjin knows all about your bad experiences.

“You've known him for months now, it's obvious he's not like that prick of your ex”, she says and you nod, you do know it.

“It's just hard”, you sigh. Trusting someone again over something so delicate to you is difficult.

“Yeah, I get it”, she smiles sympathetically to you. “But you know he'll reach his limit at some point, right?”

“I don't know what you're talking about”, you say, looking at her with doe eyes and an angelic smile.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about”, Ryunjin rolls her eyes, “you've been playing this teasing game for a while and he'll get sick of it at some point”

It's true that you've been enjoying yourself since you noticed his interest in you and you did what you do best, tease.

You touch him all the time, while his touches are subtle and shy, you're much more obvious about it. You play with his hair when you're sitting close to each other, a leg over his. He's so respectful, his hands never go above your knees. You shamelessly touch his biceps, squeezing them while biting on your lips, oh how you wish this man would put you in a headlock with said biceps.

Every time you touch him, he gets horny, it's a spontaneous reaction that only you could cause. It never happened to him before, he dreams about the dirty things he could do to you. You're so fragile, so beautiful, he wants to ruin you, break you so no one would ever want you, then you'd be his forever.

While you're indeed afraid he'll get sick of your antics, Changbin is sure he'll never give up. He wanted you since the first moment your eyes locked with his and he'll make you his, no matter how long it takes.

"Wait", you say too loudly as soon as WAP starts playing, "THAT'S MY JAM", you grab Ryunjin's hand, making her stand up to dance with you.

You sing along, watching some of the boys coming up to you two, dancing around and laughing at your excitement.

Turning around, you look at the kitchen, seeing Changbin leaning against the counter, watching you. He would usually join the dance, but not tonight, his eyes are fixated on you, making you feel like you two are the only people in the room.

He has only a beer in his hand, a smirk on his lips and dirty thoughts in his mind. He decides that tonight you're going to pay for all the times you left him hard just for the fun of it.

You have no idea what's in store for you, so you keep teasing him, sliding your hands down your body, rolling your hips, staring shamelessly at Changbin.

You look around for a bit, making sure no one’s looking at your little scene. It's crazy how this song just makes you feel — horny and needy for someone that will really put you in your place. You sigh, looking back at Changbin, he's still watching you, a frown on his face now. He's muttering something you obviously can't hear because of the distance but his eyes are dark like you have never seen before.

The music ends leaving you satisfied with the results. Changbin is still staring at you, or better, eyefucking you.

The food you ordered doesn't take too long to arrive, so you sit happily at the table with everyone, talking like you didn't just make him get as hard as a rock just from your dancing. He feels like he's losing his mind, you're too much for him already and he didn't even fuck you yet.

You go to the bathroom before going home, you're kinda sleepy already so you want to wash your face so you won't fall asleep in the uber.

After throwing some water on your face, you stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You're such a coward, you wish you had the courage to make a move on Changbin for real.

Sighing, you get yourself together, opening the door ready to go home and forget this whole night. You didn't expect to bump into the man you so much desire right outside, leaning on the wall with his muscular arms crossed in front of his chest.

You flinch at the look he gives you, the smile that grows on his lips is everything but friendly, so on instinct you take a step back.

“H-hey”, you say, trying to recompose yourself. “Do you want to use the bathroom?” You step outside, awkwardly, leaving room for him to go inside.

“I sent everyone home”, he takes a deep breath, walking towards you. “Now it's just you and me, I think it's time for us to talk”

“Aren't we already doing that?” You laugh, sheepishly, stepping back again only to bump in the wall.

Changbin tsks, putting his hands on your waist and pressing his body against yours.

“It's time for you to stop playing games, bunny”, he tells you, he's too close, his nose is almost touching yours. “You fucked around enough already”

You feel the air get stuck in your throat, what are you going to do now? Your mind can't think of a way to get out of this situation and you feel like if you reject him now, it's over. You don't want it to be over, you want him so badly it's crazy.

Changbin sees the opening he needs, you're considering his proposition.

“Let me make you feel good, hm? I've been wanting you for so long, let me have you”, he continues, trying to persuade you. “I promise you won't regret it”

You can feel his hard cock pressing against your stomach, you want to let him do anything to you. The problem is the consequences later, but you decide to let the y/n of the future to handle that, you just want him to fuck you senseless right now.

You take a deep breath, nodding and in a split of a second his lips are on yours, hungrily attacking your poor mouth. He's being too harsh, you know he doesn't mean to hurt you and the way you can feel how much he wants this makes you more turned on.

He slides his hands from your waist to your hips, pulling you away from the wall so he can grab your ass. He squeezes it, groaning, it's so good to finally have you. Oh, the things he wants to do to you.

Changbin taps twice on your thighs, holding you tightly so you can wrap your legs around his hips. He carries you all the way to his room without disconnecting his mouth from yours, you're not sure how you didn't have to stop yet so you could breathe.

As soon as he gets closer to his bed, he bites your lower lip. He throws you on the bed, taking his shirt off. His body is so much better than you imagined, his chest looks like it was sculpted by an artist.

He climbs on the bed, leaning over you and brushing his nose on yours, softly caressing your cheek, taking your hair out of your face.

"Why did you take so long to let me have you, hm?" He leans more, kissing your collarbone and biting your shoulder, making you flinch.

"I was scared", you whisper, closing your eyes to the sensation of his lips on your skin.

"Did you think I would hurt you?" He asks, worriedly, hands coming instantly to cup your face.

"No, I know you wouldn't", you sigh, "I just had some really bad experiences with other people and was scared”

He's relieved he was not the one you were afraid of, but at the same time he's angry, he wants to know who's the asshole who made you feel bad about yourself.

"I won't do anything you don't want to, bunny", he gives a peck on your lips, "let's go slowly, hm? I'll do a bit of everything and you can tell me if I should go further or slow down, alright?"

You nod, feeling one of his hands sliding slowly from your face to your scalp, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling it slightly.

"Should I keep going?" He asks in a whisper, already knowing your answer by the way your lips parted and your cheeks reddened.

"Yes, please", you plead, looking him in the eyes and seeing a smirk grow on his lips.

“Tell me, bunny, do you want me to be rough? Or do you want me to be soft?”

You stare at him for a bit, he's looking at you so intently, waiting for your answer. You never thought someone would ask you this question, ask how they could make you feel good.

“Rough”, you blush, avoiding his gaze. He grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks harshly.

"That's good”, he gives a peck on your pouting lips, “because you deserve a punishment for all the times I had to jerk off by myself thinking of you", he points out, pulling your hair harder and making you moan, leaving your neck exposed. He takes the opportunity, leaning closer and licking the bare skin, sucking and biting it hard. After making sure he marked you, Changbin sits.

"Undress", he tells you while he watches you, sitting comfortably on the bed. When you don't move, he scoffs. "Or should I rip your clothes apart? I don't mind", he smirks and you look down to your expensive new dress, you actually would like him to rip your clothes, but not this one.

So you shake your head, taking off your dress. You try covering yourself a bit, feeling too exposed. You're wearing only your panties since you didn't need a bra for that dress.

"You look so beautiful bare and ready for me", he says, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed.

"Sit here, bunny", he says, tapping the place by his side. "Tell me, how do you think I should punish you?"

"I- I don't know"

He frowns, smiling slightly.

"Are you sure?"

"Whatever you want", you say, feeling the warmth grow in your cheeks. "You can do anything you want."

Changbin sucks in the air between his teeth, a big smile on his face.

"I like the sound of that", he chuckles, lifting his hand to your face and squeezing it, "now before we can finally start, tell me if there's anything you don't want tonight"

You take a deep breath, looking deep into his eyes.

"There's nothing, I'll tell you if I feel uncomfortable", you say confidently.

"Hm, I like it. You're so good for me, baby", he stands up, taking off his sweats and underwear, sitting back with his legs open. He's so hard and pretty, you even salivate looking at his cock.

"Get on your knees", he commands and you do just that, feeling the hardwood scratching your skin. "Come here and open your mouth for me okay? I want you to show me how sorry you are for making me wait for so long"

You nod, lifting your shaky hands to grab the base of his cock, you're not sure how much you'll be able to fit in your mouth but the simple thought of sucking him makes your excitement drip from your cunt. Changbin puts his hands on the bed, looking at you with a condescending smile, just waiting.

You lean closer, wrapping his cock with your mouth, making him groan. You lick his shaft all the way up to his leaking head, twirling with your tongue at the top.

“Fuck”, he says, bringing one of his hands to your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you down. You feel the tears brimming in your eyes, your throat is burning with the assault. “Look at you, looking so pretty gagging on my cock”

You moan, feeling your core aching, your hand slides involuntarily to your clit trying to have some release. His cock hits the back of your throat once again, making the tears run through your cheeks, you try to catch your breath but he keeps fucking your mouth violently.

“Oh my”, he smiles, “are you touching yourself? Did I say you could do that?” He asks condescendingly, “I guess whores can't help themselves”

He releases your hair, finally letting you breathe.

“So you like the pain, right? I have so many things in store for you”, he gets closer.

You're too intoxicated, eyes glossy from the tears and lips swollen. Your mascara is smudged all over your face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, taking your face into his hands once more, making you look at him, “do you want to keep going?”

You nod, frantically. “Yes, please”

He smiles satisfied, pushing you on the bed. Changbin kisses your feet, trailing softly over your legs, all the way up to your thighs. He leans over, biting the inside of your thigh, earning a whimper from you. Leaning over your pussy, he doesn't waste time, eagerly sucking on your clit and licking long stripes between your folds. Your hands automatically go to his head, pulling him closer to your core.

He inserts a finger inside you, looking up to see your beautiful face contorted in pleasure while he works with his fingers and tongue. You had forgotten how it felt to have a good fuck, how delicious the pain is. You're clenching around his fingers, so Changbin knows you're almost cumming, that's when he stops.

“What the hell?” You whine, trying to touch your clit with your hand so you can finish it yourself but he doesn't let you, grabbing your face harshly, squeezing your cheeks.

“You should take what I give you”, he says, “Open your mouth”, he commands, spitting inside, “now, swallow”

You feel all your insides turn around, you could cum just by the hold he has on you. Your pussy is throbbing so much it hurts, but it's so good.

“Binnie, please”, you whine, ready to beg for him to fuck you.

“Hm? Tell me what you want, bunny”

“Please fuck me, please, please”, you beg.

“If you ask this nicely I can't deny”, he smirks, climbing on top of you. He's huge, strong arms on each of your sides, trying not to put too much weight over you. He pulls you by your ankles, positioning himself in the middle of your legs.

You try grabbing his cock so you can put it in already, you're too desperate but he swings a slap on your ass, making you whimper to the pain, you were not expecting that.

“I told you to take what I give you, bunny”

He slides his cock up and down on your wet folds, feeling like he could die at any moment by feeling your warmth embracing his cock.

“Put it in, Binnie”, you plead again, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Fuck, babe, you're so fucking pretty”, he tells you while teasing, “but do you deserve it? You made a fool out of me all this months”

You feel your eyes brim with tears again, feeling the little bit of stimulation he's giving you by slightly touching the head of his cock to your clit.

“I'm sorry, I'm really sorry”, you sob, “it wasn't just you. I went back home every time and fucked myself thinking about you”

“Shit”, he groans, sliding his cock inside you with no warning, you scream to the sudden intrusion in your sensitive cunt but it gets stuck in your throat while you sob. “Tell me everything you want me to do, yeah?”

He's thrusting violently into you, gripping your hips into place so he can have you exactly where he wants you to be.

“I want you to fucking break me”, you tell him, “choke me, bite me, do anything, I'm yours”

Changbin slams into you even harder listening to those words, he slides his hand up, wrapping it around your throat. He tightens the grip, cutting the air off.

“My beautiful princess wants me to fuck her senseless?” You feel your orgasm closer, the sensations you're feeling all over your body makes it feel like you're in a haze, completely lost in pleasure. The knot in your stomach grows so big, it feels like it explodes, making you shake and arch your back, feeling overwhelmed by all the pleasure.

Changbin keeps going hard, feeling you clench around him just makes him get closer to his own climax. He takes his hand out of your throat, holding your hips for support.

“Do it inside”, you whisper out of breath, feeling his cock twitching inside you. He cums a few moments later, feeling your pussy sucking all of him.

He collapses on top of you, supporting himself in his arms, not wanting to weigh on you but still wanting to stay inside of you. You help him by wrapping your arms around his waist and flipping you two, now you are the one on top of him and his cock is still buried inside you.

You lay on his chest, hearing his heartbeat, not sure what to say now. You're afraid he'll judge you, even though it looked like he enjoyed the same as you, your ex boyfriend seemed to like it too. What if this was just a one time thing for him? You're not sure if you'll be able to be with other people after this night.

As if he can hear your intrusive thoughts, Changbin wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

“Should I call you my girlfriend now or should we go on a date first?”

You snap your head over at him, wide eyes and a big smile on your lips.

“I think you'll have to do much more to be able to call me your girlfriend”, you smile playfully.

“Oh? My bunny is so greedy”, he gives a peck on your lips, “I can get used to that”

-------

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

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jobean12-blog · 10 months

Text

Perfect Kind of Trouble

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,566

Summary: You’re new to the neighborhood and you’ve landed a great job bartending at one of the local spots. So far it’s been a good change and things are going smoothly, that is, until Bucky Barnes, the neighborhood’s most eligible bachelor, walks into your bar and sets his sights on you.

Author’s Note: I love the idea of Bucky chasing after a girl who gives him a run for his money! Hope you enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: Lots of fluff, flirting, tension, Bucky might be a bit possessive but in a good way and he definitely goes for what he wants and that’s you, some sass in there, Bucky is protective too :) and Nat is the best wingman ever!

“Oh my god, he’s here.”

You stop drying the glass in your hand and go stiff, side eyeing your friend Nat.

“Who Nat?”

She doesn’t answer and instead slides closer to you, leaning her head toward your ear.

“Bucky Barnes.”

“Who?” you ask again, starting to crane your neck to look.

“Don’t!” she snaps then instantly softens her tone. “Just meet me in the back in two minutes and don’t make it look suspicious.”

You give her a tiny nod and go back to your work on the glasses but you can feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. You can feel his stare.

“Ok. What the hell is up with you?” you ask when you shut the door to the back room.

She’s pacing back and forth and it’s making you nervous but when she meets your eyes you relax slightly at the smile on her face.

“Bucky Barnes,” she repeats.

“Yeah? And? I have no idea who that is!”

“Of course you don’t!” she muses. “You wouldn’t know because you only moved here a few weeks ago.”

“Righttt…so, who is he?”

“Just the perfect man.”

“How do you know?”

“Everyone knows.”

You quirk your brow and cross your arms over your chest.

“Well, everyone who lives in the neighborhood,” she laughs.

“If he’s so perfect I’m sure he’s married with two point five kids, a dog and a house with a white picket fence.”

“There are no white picket fences in Brooklyn babe,” she says. “And you’d think that but he’s been a bachelor for as long as we know him.”

“Then he’s probably a player and an asshole!” you state.

“I mean sure, all the women, and men, talk about how hot he is and how much they want a shot and boy do they try but as far as I know he doesn’t date.”

“I don’t get it,” you say.

“Me neither!” she agrees. “But he hasn’t been at this bar in forever…”

“Maybe he wanted a change of scenery?” you say with a shrug.

“OR MAYBEEEEEEEE,” she starts, her grin growing. “He heard there’s a new girl in town and he’s here to see you!”

“You’re insane! And he sounds like a player to me.” you huff. “I’m going back to work. Come on, you have to point him out to me. I at least want a look.”

“I won’t need to. You’ll know who he is…”

At her wistful tone you roll your eyes, pushing open the door and walking out with determined steps.

When you hit the bar you discreetly scan the seats. You don’t see anyone that stands out, mostly just the usual crew that shows up on a Saturday night for four-dollar drafts.

A customer calls you over and you head in his direction with a smile. You’re just greeting him and taking his order when you feel that familiar heat at your back, your skin tingling.

Once you’ve got the drink order you turn toward the bar only to lock eyes with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. It momentarily stops you in your tracks and if it weren’t for Nat lightly bumping your shoulder and whispering, “told ya so,” you would stay rooted to the spot to stare.

Instead you blink several times and look away, trying to remember what drink you’re supposed to make.

When you’ve finished making it you deliver it to the customer and try to take another peek down the bar.

“I’m not taking his drink order,” Nat singsongs when she comes to stand beside you. “That’s all you.”

Your mouth falls open and you give her a glare with narrowed eyes. She just smiles brightly and sashays to the other end of the bar to take another order.

With a huff of annoyance you square your shoulders and turn toward Bucky. As you approach him his eyes light up with his smile.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

He returns your greeting and sticks his hand out.

“I’m James Barnes but you can call me Bucky.”

You wipe your hand on the towel at your side and shake his. The shock of electricity at his touch doesn’t seem to be one sided when you feel the slight squeeze from his hand. You introduce yourself, hoping you don’t come off as confused at his direct attention.

“Apparently you’re rather popular around here?”

It comes out as a question and he chuckles.

“Don’t believe anything you’ve heard,” he says with a wink.

“So what about a drink?” you ask, focusing on doing your job.

He orders and before he can say more you rush off to fix his drink. You drop it off with nothing more than a smile and move toward the next person who calls for your help.

As you’re making your next few drinks you notice Nat chatting with Bucky and you can’t help but wonder what they’re saying.

You move back and forth behind the bar, trying to ignore the feel of Bucky’s eyes, but he finally catches your attention and waves you down.

“Another?” you ask.

“Sure doll, thanks.”

While you’re pouring his drink he tries to keep you engaged.

“So Nat told me you’re new to town?”

“Yeah, moved here at the end of last month.”

“Do you like bartending better here in the city?” he asks.

You look down at the bar and scold with a single name.

“Nat.”

Bucky leans in. “Don’t be mad. She’s just trying to help me out.”

You lean in too, elbows on the bar and your head tilted his way.

“You usually need help? From what I’ve heard you can have your pick of anyone.”

At the slight scrunch of your nose he can tell you’re not saying it with a positive tone.

“Not my style. I’m pickier and right now, I need all the help I can get because I think I’m in real danger of striking out.”

His eyes drop to your lips and when they turn up every so slightly he relaxes.

“What is your type?” you ask. “Maybe I can help you out too.”

He scans you slowly and the proceeds to describe you perfectly, the tension building in the inches between you with his every word.

You steel yourself and lift your chin. “Does that usually work?”

“It’s not a line. Meant every word doll face.”

“Do you use these endearments on all the girls? I bet they love it.”

“Nuh uh,” he answers adamantly.

You nod, looking completely unconvinced.

Nat reappears at your side. “You have no idea how much I hate to interrupt this, but I need three long island iced teas at table four or they’re gonna have a hissy fit.”

You straighten yourself. “Oh sorry! Of course. I’m on it.”

You’re busy for the next forty-five minutes but Bucky never leaves his spot and every time you meet his eyes they are heavy with intention as they follow your every move. You can feel them, the heat singing every inch of your skin.

At least two women have approached him at the bar but they both walked away after a few minutes of mundane conversation and lack of interest on his part.

As much as you hate to admit it you can’t help but steal glances at him too, though you try to keep them quick and subtle.

He’s broad shouldered in the tight tee shirt he’s wearing, his biceps on full display under the stretch of the fabric and his dark hair is loose at his shoulders. His full lips are framed by a dark scruff that also covers his cheeks and is peppered with patches of gray.

Your fingers mindlessly caress the glass you’re holding before you catch yourself and look away.

You drop off another glass of whiskey with a smile and he nurses it, shooting you a cocky half smirk when he catches you staring at him. It’s like the intense silence is some sort of foreplay.

Feeling his gaze along your skin, drinking you in and driving you wild, you do your best to keep up with orders.

When things start to slow down and customers go home, you finally make your way back toward Bucky, drawn to him, despite your best efforts.

“Couldn’t avoid me anymore?”

“I wasn’t really…”

The words taper off at the sharp lift of his eyebrow.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“Apology accepted,” he smirks. “So, do you have plans when you get off?”

You don’t answer, instead fiddling with his now empty glass. He lays his hand on the bar, his fingers just an inch form yours.

“Are you really gonna ignore my question doll?” he chuckles.

His fingers slide closer and he brushes his thumb over your knuckles, gauging your reaction. You giggle at his second question and his eyes drop to your mouth as he licks his own lips.

You’re almost lost in the bubble but then the world outside comes roaring back into focus when you hear Nat yell “last call.”

“Work…I still have to work.”

His lips part on an exhale but he let’s you go.

You rush around the bar first, clearing glasses and debris before heading over to one of the tables where three guys sit in conversation.

Distracted, you lean over the table, trying not to interrupt them. But the blonde closest to you runs the back of his hand up your arm.

It makes you cringe.

“Hi there,” he says.

“Hey,” you answer coolly, shifting away from him.

One of the blonde’s friend gives you an apologetic look, scolding Rob before he hands you one of the empty glasses that’s far out of reach. You reach for it and as soon as your fingers wrap around it, Rob grabs your hips and yanks you into his lap.

You drop the glass to the floor and it shatters before you push against his chest, loudly yelling, “what the hell?”

Rob starts to speak but you’re suddenly lifted in the air and whirled around then planted gently on your feet behind Bucky’s broad back.

Bucky now has Rob’s tee shirt fisted in one hand as he gets in his face.

The bar goes silent and the next thing you hear is the low growl of Bucky’s order. “Don’t touch.”

Bucky slowly lowers Rob’s feet to the floor, keeping a careful eye on him. His eyes narrow a split second before Rob bellows, “motherfucker!”

The asshole rears back and punches Bucky clean in the jaw.

You gaps in horrified shock, but Bucky grins, his tongue peeking out to test his lip and you can’t help how your eyes linger there.

“You threw the first punch shithead,” Bucky says before winding back and punching Rob in the gut.

All the guys now rush toward their friend, muttering curses at him as they drag him to his feet and eye Bucky warily.

The owner of the bar, and your boss, Barry, comes over and gets in their faces. “Get out and don’t come back!”

They drag their belligerent friend out as quickly as they can, apologizing to you, or maybe Bucky, the whole way.

“What just happened?” you ask, your voice quiet.

Bucky steps close to you, his knuckles brushing over your cheek, light as a feather.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes are filled with emotions. Worry, fury, fear, and tenderness.

“I think so. That was just…crazy.”

Nat wraps her arm around your shoulders comfortingly. “Let’s go get Bucky some ice, ok?”

You glance down at Bucky’s hand, puffy and red.

“Oh no,” you say, gently taking his hand in yours.

He smiles. “It’s fine. Been there, done that.”

You watch him go back and sit at the bar, most of the other customers now cleared out. When you come back out with the ice and ointment your gentle, “you okay?” pulls him from his musings.

“Yeah, no big deal. As long as you’re okay?”

You sit next to him, resting his hand on your thigh and carefully pressing the ice to his knuckles. He stares at his hand on your skin.

“I don’t know if okay is how I would describe how I’m feeling right now…that was…”

Your words trail off when you can’t find a suitable label for the last ten minutes.

“Sexy?” he suggests, deadpan.

Your jaw drops open in offense.

“What? NO!”

He breaks and his lips spread wide in a grin.

You deflate and bump his shoulder, not trying to hide your own smile.

“Seriously though,” you say, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to…why did you do that?”

He looks at you evenly, his voice soft. “Look I’m not some crazy guy who goes around lookin’ to beat people up doll face. But you shouldn’t have to put up with shit like that. I’m sure that wasn’t the first time that piece of shit has pulled a stunt like that, but hopefully next time, he’ll have some decency and sense before laying hands on a woman without an explicit invitation.”

“Well in that case…that’s pretty nice.”

He scoffs with a lopsided smile and his eyes drop to your lips; his hand still pressed to your thigh. His head tilts and he leans in slightly, watching your lips part. He curls his fingers around your thigh but winces at the pull on his knuckles.

You see it and pull back, looking down at his hand.

“Let me get you fixed up.”

Once you have him bandaged up he whispers, “thanks,” still staring at his hand held in yours.

“You ready to go, or do you need to close up first?”

His question is light.

“Go where?”

“Out with me. Ice cream? A walk? Anything you want.”

“It’s the middle of the night. I’m not going anywhere but home.”

“Or we could go to the twenty-four-hour deli on the corner and get ice cream sandwiches then I’ll take you to the roof of my building and we can watch the sunrise.”

Your light touch traces along the calluses on his fingertips.

“Are you usually this friendly to everyone who is new to the neighborhood?” you ask behind a sly smile.

“Not at all doll. Only for you. You’re special.”

Your jaw goes rigid and your eyes narrow. “You can stop whatever game you’re playing.”

You pull back, releasing his hand and starting to put the first aid kit back together.

“What just happened? I’m not playing games,” he says, keeping his voice steady. “But I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

“It’s fine. I need to go help Nat close up.”

You stand and walk to the door, your head held high. He’s not going to fool you with his sweet words.

The next evening is slow so you spend most of it helping Nat stock the bar and clean. The hours pass by and nothing exciting happens letting your thoughts wander to Bucky. Then, as if on cue, the door opens, and you automatically look over to see who the latest customer is.

Bucky fills the doorway.

Your breath hitches and you can’t look away. He’s more dressed up tonight. A dark button down opened at the collar and dark jeans that are tight across his thick thighs.

You can’t help but think he’s here to meet someone for a date. The jealousy that surges through you is surprising and infuriating. That is, until he walks up to the bar and sits down. Right in front of you.

“Hey, doll.”

“Hey, Bucky.”

“What can I get you?” you start. “Or are you waiting for someone?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the p. “What time’s your break?”

“Oh,” you breath out. “Um…I don’t really get a long one…”

You start to wipe down the bar aimlessly, remaining quiet while you wait. You can feel him watching you, his eyes tracking your every movement.

He calls over Nat and asks, “can I get two of the special for tonight, please?”

He’s speaking to Nat but looking at you, daring you to disagree.

When you stay quiet, the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly, victory lighting up his eyes.

“If you want to take it to-go for later, that’s fine. But I thought it’d be nice to have dinner together and figured ya wouldn’t want to go out with me after I fucked up last night.”

“So dinner while I’m supposed to be working is a better option?” you shoot back.

He cringes, despite the lack of heat in your accusation then sighs defeatedly.

“I’m trying here. I want to get to know you better. I promise my intentions are good.”

You stare, getting lost in his beautiful eyes before you scan the rest of his face. He seems more vulnerable now and you want to believe him.

Nat comes back with two plates of steaming food and sets them down.

You give in and unwrap the silverware, digging into a bite of baked potato.

“Mmm,” you moan around the taste.

He freezes with his own bite halfway to his mouth, and mutters under his breath. “Are you trying to kill me?”

You fall into easy conversation about what he does for work, how you like living in the city and everything in between.

After you explain why you moved, spilling the truth between bites, he replies with, “I’m glad you picked Brooklyn.”

His fingers slide over yours and the touch is full of heat. His eyes follow the movement and his jaw tightens. He threads his fingers through yours, holding your hand across the bar.

When he meets your eyes, his are hooded and dark. “How about that ice cream tonight with a roof top view doll?”

The ‘yes’ is on the tip of your tongue as your body leans over the bar, but then you remember that you want more than just a fling and even though he said his intentions are good you can’t help but wonder why a guy like him is still single. You’re not looking for a fling.

You untangle your fingers from his, pulling back.

“Thank you, Bucky. Really. But…”

He nods, not letting you finish before he reaches into his back pocket and sets down some cash to cover the dinners.

“See ya soon doll.”

The bar is closed on Mondays but Tuesday has you running beers up and down the bar for game night. Bucky’s back. Same time, same seat.

“You need a break doll? Something to eat?” Bucky asks before he takes a sip of beer.

He sets it down as he waits for your answer, studying you intently.

You grab a French fry from his plate and wave it around before bringing it to your lips. He grins wolfishly, catching your wrist in his hand and before you know what’s happening, he’s snagged the fry from between your fingers with his teeth. His tongue snakes out to the lick the salt from your fingertips, then he chews with a self-satisfied smile.

“I’ll let you have the rest,” he says, holding one up to your lips.

You tentatively lean forward, watching him warily in case he tries to pull it away, then chomp down.

“Just let me know when you want more,” he croons.

You continue to work, constantly aware of Bucky and the way he never takes his eyes off you. You check on him regularly, engaging in some deep conversation even with the little time you have.

As your shift nears its end he calls you over.

“Ice cream and rooftop tonight?” he asks, setting money down on the bar to pay for his food and drinks.

“I can’t tonight.”

He smiles. “No worries doll face. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next night comes quickly, your tired feet aching from marching back and forth between the bar and the pool tables since it’s half price games tonight.

It’s getting late, and despite your best efforts, you can’t help but wonder where Bucky is. Maybe the last time you turned him down was the final straw. You feel a deep twinge of disappointment at the idea.

The door opens, and you look over, your eyes filled with hope, but it’s just some random couple.

You’re stomach grumbles and you realize you’ve had dinner with Bucky the last few nights and now that it’s late and he hasn’t shown you haven’t eaten.

Checking that everyone has full glasses you wipe your hands and head for the kitchen, hoping to snag something to eat.

The chef, Suzanne, greets you warmly. You ask her for a bowl of the soup and she hums in agreement, yelling out for Charlie.

A guy you’ve never seen before pops around the corner.

“Hey, I’m Charlie, the sometimes kitchen help,” he explains holding out his hand.

“Nice to meet you Charlie.”

You give him your name and tell him you’re the new bartender.

His face changes instantly, eyes going wide and his brows shooting up to his hairline. He pulls his hand back quickly.

He’s still smiling but he seems guarded all of a sudden.

“You forgot to mention the most important part…Bucky’s girl.”

“What?” you say incredulously. “I’m not Bucky’s girl! We’re just friends. He just stops by for dinner and a drink!”

You know it’s more than that. Charlie nods like he knows it’s more than that.

“Sure, whatever you say. But no offense, I’m gonna take his word for it. I’ve never seen him do anything like this before. It has the whole neighborhood talkin’.”

With that he disappears, only reappearing a few moments later with your soup, then he runs off again.

You inhale the soup, not wanting to leave Nat alone and rush back to the bar to check the drink orders.

Nat slides up next to you. “Those drinks for table six?”

You don’t answer her, instead filling her in on what happened in the kitchen.

“Charlie said I’m ‘Bucky’s girl.’ I’m not his girl. What does that even mean?”

“Aw that’s sweet! He’s never said anything like that before and I would know. Been living here my whole life.”

“No it’s not!”

“I think it’s sorta romantic,” she says wistfully. “He’s all in, claiming you far and wide when you haven’t even realized what’s right in front of your face!”

She punctuates the last words of her sentence as she stares you down.

“What’s right in front of my face?” you ask, unwilling to concede that it might be the tiniest bit sweet…in a cave man sort of way.

“He’s here,” Nat whispers, but it’s more of squeal.

You turn toward the door, your whole face lighting up even though you’re still mad at the claim he made. The door is closed, Bucky no where in sight.

Nat’s finger is suddenly in your face. “That! You want to see him. You like him coming here to see you too. Shit, when was the last time someone made this much of an effort for a date!”

She throws her hands up! “Just go out with the man!”

“You mean have sex with him?” you bite out, not forgetting about her earlier warnings.

“Either or, maybe both! What could it hurt?”

“Me!” you say defensively.

Nat’s expression softens. “I think maybe I gave you the wrong idea about him…” she fumbles. “What I really mean is I think maybe we all had the wrong idea about him.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs with a heavy sigh. “Bucky is man. A hot as fuck man,” she teases. “And he does have a reputation…but only because everyone wishes they could get a piece of him. I really don’t remember the last girl he went out with. So either he’s really quiet about it, but if you haven’t noticed in this neighborhood everyone is up everyone else’s ass, or he hasn’t really dated.”

Nat eyes you carefully, curiously.

“Oh shit,” you mumble, laying your face in your hands. “I do want to go out with him, but I’m scared…have you seen him?”

Nat grins. “Oh yes. I have and…”

“He’s gorgeous. Like drop dead gorgeous,” you finish for her.

“Exactly,” she agrees happily, a dreamy look on her face.

You swat at her shoulder, getting her attention and gesturing to yourself.

“What? You look amazing!” she says. “It’s not like he hasn’t seen you at work before.”

“You don’t think is just a thing because I’m the new girl in the neighborhood?”

“Do people do things like that where you’re from?” she asks. “And no!” she finishes, shaking her head.

Just as her words sink in your heart sinks with them.

“Doesn’t matter anyway. I blew it, he’s not here tonight.”

“Yes he is.”

The door opens and when you look over, it’s him.

Finally!

The air charges across the space between you and you know something has changed and when his eyes meet yours it’s almost as if he knows it too. He nods toward the door, silently asking if you’re ready for that date.

“Hey Nat, you think if I ask Barry to let me off early…”

“I swear if he says no I’ll kick him in the balls myself,” Nat screeches.

You rush back to the office and find Barry sitting behind his desk. Your question rushes out and he holds up a hand to stop you before you even finish.

“Go,” is all he says, but the smile he gives you reaches his eyes.

You cross the room to Bucky, his eyes wandering over you with possessive heat and unguarded want.

When you’re standing right in front of him, your toes touching, he asks, “you ready?”

Your lips lift ever so slightly and when his large hand cups your cheek your eyelashes flutter closed. His motions are slow, teasingly so, but he’s giving you time to stop him. He bends down, letting his intentions be quite clear.

He kisses the corner of your mouth then brushes his lips over yours, so lightly, you can feel his breath. You sigh into him and his hands slide over your curves and down to your waist, his grip tightening.

Nat let’s out a cheer, effectively interrupting the moment but you can’t help but smile at her excitement.

Bucky doesn’t let go of you, his hand sliding into yours as he pulls you out the door and onto the street.

“Hey,” he says soothingly.

“Hi,” you say, tucking your chin.

His fingers press under and he lifts your eyes. “You good?”

He waits patiently for you to formulate a reply.

“I just…I’m not sure…what you expect.”

“Anything, doll. I want to know you, spend time with you.”

Dropping his voice lower and bringing his lips to the shell of your ear, he whispers, “kiss you again…for real this time.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice heavy with intention as he takes you in his arms again and drags you into his chest.

Your lips meet, tender and soft at first but as your fingers dance up his arms and grip his biceps, he growls and takes it deeper.

You moan into his mouth, working your hands higher into the hair that brushes his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels you give his hair a little tug.

He pulls back and you chase him for one last kiss which he happily obliges in.

“I promised you ice cream and a roof top sunrise,” he murmurs. “And I keep my promises doll.”

@book-dragon-13 @sebstanwhore @late-to-the-party-81 @goldylions @laineyreads @randomfandompenguin @lookiamtrying @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @hallecarey1 @blackwidownat2814 @flordeamatista @buckysdollforlife

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #beefy!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #beefy!bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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yandere-avatar · 3 months

Text

My Jealousy, Jealousy Started Following Me

Characters: Avatar Aang, Katara, Sokka, Suki, Zuko, Toph Beifong, Ty Lee, Avatar Korra, Asami Sato, Tenzin, Kya II, Lin Beifong, Suyin Beifong, Opal Beifong [Might do another with Azula, Mako, Bolin, and Kuvira if yall want] Had this in the drafts for a while. Just had to finish it up. Holy shit this took forever. Kept debating if it was worth it...

Avatar Aang

Aang likes to think he doesn't get jealous

He's calm and collective

But that all changed when one of the girls at Toph's Metal Bending Academy tried hitting you up

He likes to give them the benefit of the doubt and thinks maybe they don't know you're both dating

"Hey Babe! Come look at this sculpture Toph made!" [He'll call you nonchantly, hoping they'll get the hint]

But when the other person also walks over, still flirting with you, that's when he gets angry

He'd want to confront them, but honestly he's to nice for that

He might ask Katara for help

Katara will tell you how Aang feels

You'll confront Aang, but he'll pretend he doesn't know what you're talking about

"You know, you can tell me, Aang. You trust me, right?"

He'll sigh and admit and you'll comfort him, even confiding in him that sometimes you get jealous when people hit on him

Katara

HAHAHAHA

Oh, I really feel bad for whoever is flirting with you

Katara is a very jealous woman

She doesn't like people taking what's hers

She might lightly bend them, but she'll do it nonchalantly

She'll justify it by saying that it's not a big deal and you're blowing it out of proportions

She gets really frustrated with herself, because she hates this feeling

She's very powerful, so she's not someone you want to mess with

She gets irritated and will roll her eyes as someone tries to flirt with you

Very passive aggressive

You better be prepared for a fight

Sokka

He's so confused

Did that person not know you were taken?

He already has insecurities, so this doesn't help

He knows you're great, one of the MANY things he likes about you, so of course people would want your attention, but the point still stands

He'll probably do something stupid to get your attention

It's rather ridiculous

You'll look away from the person flirting with you to see your boyfriend about to get hurt

"Hey, I have to leave, my boyfriend is about to get himself killed"

Suki

She's very confident, so she's not worried about this person at all

Though, she is annoyed, because who did that person think they were?

She will probably call your attention to her and do something to impress you, so you focus on her

She smiles when seeing you turn your attention away from them [Flirter]

It's a huge win for her

There is a slight part of her that is insecure because she sees you as incredible and she knows other people see it too

What if you end up leaving her? It really bothers her

So she's always doing crazy stuff to impress you so you never leave

Zuko

Probably the easiest to anger and get jealous

He has no control over his emotions what so ever

He WILL start a fight with the guy hitting on you

He does NOT care who they are or what was say, he's going to put them in their place

But before he does that, he'll express to you that he's upset, but you think it's nothing

He tries to win your affection by beating that guy up

You're just annoyed because you think he overreacted. He says he didn't [He did]

Will gaslight you, saying it's your fault

"Why were you even talking to him!?"

He's so angry and he'll break the closest thing to him

He wants to control his anger, but you really bring out this side of him. He makes sure you know it too, because he tells you

So, when he's done throwing this temper tantrum, you both leave the party; Mad af

You're mad that the party and good vibe was ruined and he's mad that you're mad, because he was just trying to get that dude away from you

Toph Beifong

She can feel the other person's heart beat pick up as they continue to hit on you

She's annoyed, but doesn't know how to express it healthily

She might use her bending to push that person away from you

She'll give them a show, so that they can have something to talk about

Might even crush them

The thought makes her smirk

She'll send little earthquakes to the person

Treated thems like a ball and and bounces them with the earth, without making it obvious

She'll forget about it when you come over to her and talk to her

Ty Lee

She's the least likely to get jealous because she's also a player

Though she does get upset when seeing that you're uncomfortable

She'll glare and excuse herself from whatever conversation she's in, even if it's with Azula, and walks over to where you are

Her tactic is to come in hot, just like the person flirting with you

She'll aggressively flirt with them to try and make them uncomfortable

But if that doesn't work, she'll be very direct and say that you're together and that they need to stop

They'll think it's a joke but Ty Lee is dead serious

She's willing to fight them if it comes to that

She might also grab your hand and drag you away, if you ask her not to make a scene

She'll keep an eye on you for the rest of the night

Avatar Korra

Korra gets extremely jealous

If someone even LOOKS at you in a way she doesn't like, she'll get angry

She's possessive over the things that are hers

Anyone approaches her and they are pushed into the wall

She's pissed and can't control her bending

She'll apologize to the person she hurt, but she doesn't really mean it. She's still focused on you

You're HERs, so why are they talking to you

Everyone knows you belong to the Avatar, so why even try?

She's thinking of all the ways she could kill them

It kind of makes her feel a little better, but not much

She is slightly insecure though, because what if you do like them better than her? No, you can't... You just can't like them more

Asami Sato

She'll roll her eyes and glare at them

They've got some balls talking to you, everyone knows you have a girlfriend, so why is that person flirting w/ you ??

She'll come strutting over & flip her hair

"Who's this babe?"

She's smiling, but anyone with eyes can see that's not true

Man if looks could kill

You tell her that they were telling you about some acomplishment they achieved

"Oh, did you tell them how we work with the Avatar and have saved the world?"

She's deadass going to shove her accomplishments in their face

She's so pretty too so she knows that they don't stand a chance

She's already won this fight, so they might as well give up

Tenzin

Haha? Him? Jealous? No of course not-

Okay, he's extremely jealous, but it doesn't show at all

He has mad stern resting face- No emotions

But inside he's steaming

You probably have a little bit of an age gap, so he's worried you'll leave him for someone your age

[But you've liked Tenzin for a long time, so you weren't letting him go anytime soon]

He's trying to preoccupy his attention

Though, it's not working

He can't get it off his mind

Will definitely start a fight over it later

Kya

She's confused. Why is someone flirting with you?

She's not insecure, just annoyed

Because who the hell did they think they were? Did they not know you were taken. No, they had to have known

She's pretty easygoing, so she won't act irrationally

Instead, she'll continue doing her thing and allowing you to do your own thing, because you're your own human being

She'll probably bring it up, like... offhandly, so you don't get suspicious

"Hey, who was the person you were talking to? You know, the one who had talked to Tenzin?"

You don't even think about it and are like "Oh! Yeah, they were so annoying. I think they were trying to hit on me."

She laughs it off, but she's not happy

Thankfully, you complain about it, annoyed af

Lin Beifong

We know how she acts when she's broken up with [Hence her destroying ATI]

Try her and see what happens

She's a cop and she's willing to play dirty and arrest the person or frame them for a crime

She's going to ruin their life

And she doesn't even care if it destroys that person

The only person she cares about is you

She wants to hurt them

And she will stop at no means necessary to make sure it doesn't ever happen again

Suyin Beifong

She, like her daughter, is passive aggressive

She'll glare and crush whatever is in her hand

She'll fantasize about all the ways she would kill the person flirting with you

She wants for it not to bother her, but it really does

Maybe because there is a part of her that is scared you'll leave her [Like Tenzin did to her sister]

She'll take a deep breath, before smiling, and approaching you

She'll try and join the conversation, but the person who was hitting on you cuts them off and pushes her out of the conversation

She gets pissed

How dare they do that to her

She wants to throw hands with them, but holds herself together

She'll grab your hand, capturing your attention

"Yeah?"

She then tells you she wants to go back home

Opal Beifong

She feels very strongly about you and doesn't know what to feel when seeing someone flirt with you so openly

She knows it's not your fault, but god does she hate watching it

Though with her outgoing nature, she'd walk up and join the conversation, switching it to what she wants

She's easy going, so she doesn't really exhibit jealousy, because she goes with the flow

Though if you look closely, you can see her eye twitch and her mouth frown ever so lightly

She's quite passive aggressive and can be quite mean with her words

#yandere aang #yandere avatar the last airbender #yandere the legend of korra #yandere tlok #yandere atla #yandere korra #yandere asami #yandere beifong #yandere kya #yandere kya x reader #yandere avatar x reader #yandere avatar #yandere aang x reader #yandere katara #yandere sokka

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sgnjimmy · 8 months

Text

𝓙𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

a/n: I got this idea after one chat with the lovely human @tarotsandpotions a while ago. So this been here for months 💀💀💀 but heeeeey. i know im doing the event now but recently i got the inspiration to finish this draft that was actually rotting, so idk. here it is.

warning(s): mentions of violence, bruises, and a bit of angst (it gets better).

Today was fight night.

Joker wasn't a fan of fight night, especially since he started dating you — it was bloody, tiring, and humiliating.

He always felt like a dog in a cage doing some stupid trick for crumbs. It was pathetic, and today was no different.

As soon as it ended, he went to get his pay with Wooin and saw himself making his way through the door to exit the building as fast as he could without dragging attention.

Joker first went on the route for his way home but stopped on a store to grab a bite since you were probably asleep, and he didn't want to make a fuse at home by cooking.

He took his time eating his food there and then continued to make his way home, only to start to drag his feet on every step.

It has not been long ago since you moved in with him, and he thought he was used to you by now, but something always feels off when he's getting home from a fight now.

Joker's usual routine after every fight was to buy a few drinks from a convenience store, then head home to sit on his couch while the news channel was on the TV. He would sit there in silence with all the lights off, drinking the strongest drink he could find waiting for his thoughts to get blurry and his mind to finally get silent.

But now, he has you. And you rocked his world in the most violent yet gentle way. You came into his life and changed him, but also accepted him as he is.

Joker stops his feet when he sees he's almost at his destination.

Why does it feel weird to get home now? He asks.

He moves again after a couple of minutes, each step he takes so heavy he almost wonders if the world's gravity increased.

He highly doubts so.

Joker wouldn't like to admit it, but he was afraid. Afraid that you'd wake up one day and get tired of all his disgusting and sick world.

He wouldn't blame you. From the bottom of his heart, he wouldn't. It's just reasonable that you'll eventually go away and look for something better, someone better.

It wouldn’t be hard for you, he thinks. Anyone would be lucky to fall into the coffins of your heart. Joker knows he is.

But, eventually, when you do go away, he knows he'll be devastated — crushed even. It would hurt more than any punch he ever felt.

Argh, why is he thinking about this now?

He should just enjoy it while it lasts.

Sooner than he'd like, he arrives at his front door. With his bruised hand, he reaches for his keys, and with a bit of trouble he gets the door open letting himself enter the house.

Of course, the lights are off, and Joker doesn't attempt to turn them on. He just moves forward, stopping in front of the couch to lay on it.

He feels like he should turn on the TV given old times sake… but he agrees against it. Not only for your sake, since you have work and all tomorrow but also for his fatigue.

The couch, which can't even fit him whole, suddenly feels so comfortable for him, and he notices how beat he is and how strong the punches that hit him really were.

He is about to drift off and rest when the sound of a door opening startles him. He scrunches his face from the pain when he forces his body to sit up to see what's happening.

"Baby?"

Your figure appears from the hallway. Joker sees you rubbing your eyes.

"Did I wake ya?" He closes his eyes, and his head drops on the arm of the couch. His arms give up soon later, and he's laying on the sofa once again.

"No… Well, maybe." You smile sleepy. "I don't mind."

"Are you okay?" You approach him. "Why didn't you come to bed?"

Given his lack of response, you just sit down on the little table in front of him.

"Baby." You sing in a whisper. "Does it hurt?"

Joker feels your hands tenderly touching his jaw and moving slowly to his chin.

"Nah, don' wo'ry."

"Help me get you up. Can't have you sleeping on the couch."

You try pulling his arm, but he's not bulging.

"Baby, come on."

"M tir'd."

"I know, but you can't sleep here!"

Your boyfriend grunts, and then he slowly moves his body. You help him out how you can, and he's finally on his feet. You both make your way towards the bedroom.

As soon as you show him the bed, Joker falls on it, hitting the mattress with a tumpt. Snoring fills your ears no long after.

He must be really tired. Normally, Joker would take a while to drift off.

It pains you to see him all bruised and hurt, but you know it's not up to you to change his lifestyle. You're not with him to order him around. You're with him because you accept all of him. His messes and flaws.

Picking up a blanket from the closet, you walk towards your boyfriend's sleeping figure and put it over him. You move to the other side of the bed to accommodate yourself and lay beside him underneath the covers.

Joker looks good sleeping, you think. He looks happy... Without a worry in the world, and you wish you could keep him like that all the time.

"I love you so much." You tell him, brushing his hair with your hand. "You wouldn't believe just how much."

Moving forward, you place kisses on his forehead and cheek.

Joker shifts in his sleep and you feel his arms reaching for you. They wrap around your torso and bring your frame closer to him. His breathing hits your chest.

You're not totally sure if this relationship will last if you think it through. Both of your worlds are so different, but… But you'll stand by his side as long as he wants you to. As long as he allows you to.

Because with him you feel safe and sound, because with him you want to cry and laugh.

Because with him you have this need to protect the absolute beast of a man that lays sleeping calmly above you.

Because you love him.

#wb joker #joker x reader #joker wind breaker #joker windbreaker #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker x reader #webtoon #x reader #gn reader

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sashimiyas · 1 year

Text

The Burden of Being

Summary: There was an Osamu who loved you once. Who loved Onigiri Miya so much he spent most of his waking hours there, supported loyally by the members of Hyogo Ward. A fire changes that and he and his twin brother adopt their old high school motto: we don’t need the memories. Now they’re gone and memories are all you have. So as an homage to the man you love, you reopen his restaurant back up for him.

Pairings: miya osamu x reader (romantic); miya atsumu x reader (familial); akaashi keiji x reader (platonic)

Content: angst; fluff; inaccurate portrayal of how amnesia works; there is a hospital scene; fem reader; reader eats meat; reader has depressive symptoms that are, for the most part, amateurly addressed; reader attends therapy; alcohol as a coping method; undiagnosed alcoholism; unhealthy coping mechanisms; cigarette smoker Akaashi; cigarette smoker Osamu; amnesiac Osamu; pro volleyball player Osamu; the characters are all in their mid to late twenties bc this fic covers the time span of 2+ years; long passages written within parentheses are memories; there is a mentionable size difference between Osamu and reader where reader can wear his clothes and it be too big for them

Word count: 22k+

A/n: the premise for this fic was born after binging The Bear; she's gone through 4 drafts, 2 of which were completely scrapped and rewritten, and strayed much further from the initial plot than I imagined, but she's here! Thank you The 1975 for writing About You which I binged just as hard and would rec listening to it while you read! Sets the vibe, you know? Anyways, I've talked too much (obviously) but if you read, know that I love you!

The day was Tuesday, the most unforgettably forgettable Tuesday to exist.

Your downstairs neighbor was doing laundry. Or upstairs. Someone was doing laundry that day because you remember the scent of down. It lifted into your bedroom, pressed into your sheets, and made it harder for you to wake up despite your phone’s incessant vibration.

A shounen ending song, the season finale. A matcha roll. A nurse who spoke with her fingers and head tilts. A walker with tennis balls at the bottom, an annoyed cab driver, and a tourist who smelled too strong of American deodorant.

They were all there. You remember.

The hospital was the same as ever. It had ample seating, not too busy, which you recall eased the burden on your heart (only slightly) if it weren’t for the reason you were in the hospital to begin with.

An elderly woman sat at the end in one of the chairs pushed against the wall, sucking on a candy that smelled like guava when you passed. Her walker was parked right next to the seat and someone, probably her daughter because she was younger but they looked alike –they shared the same nose– sat beside her on her phone.

There was a man in an obscenely large overcoat sitting in one of the middle aisle seats. You remember because you couldn’t help but be quietly jealous of his wear considering how cold it was in the lobby. And finally, a teenager who was crying on her phone, holding her stomach as she did. Her tears gave you courage, allowed you to slip them quietly down your cheeks and soaked them up with your sleeves when you got your moment alone, away from the rest of the family.

You weren’t there when Osamu got hurt. He was by himself in the restaurant, opening it up and getting it ready before everyone else arrived just like how he always insisted.

You weren’t there. But you do remember.

Ma held you in her arms the moment you turned the hallways. She was on her way to the cafeteria, grabbing something for Atsumu to eat. Her head was downturned, a doleful cadence in her steps, and it was obvious that she’d spent ample time shedding tears, but there was a quiet peacefulness to her. Acceptance.

Her phone call had been quick like a debrief. She mentioned an accident. A fire, a gas leak, and despite your gasp, quickly told you not to worry because the doctors said Osamu would be fine. She said to come when you could, because she was there and Atsumu was on his way and he was going to be okay.

Then when you arrived, she immediately started crying. She had pulled you into a hug, devoured your body into hers as she pressed her head into your chest to weep.

She cried before she even got to say hello. And you didn’t know then, but there was a hierarchy for the pain.

Atsumu bore Osamu’s, Mama Miya, her sons’. And with you on the outside, with you being the last arrival, you held all of theirs.

And gods, do you remember the pain.

Ma had warned you that Atsumu was attached to his brother’s bedside. He was hunched over in a chair pushed back so he could burrow his head into the crooks of his elbows. The steady rise of his back meant he was asleep, probably cried himself to it. It had been a long journey from Osaka to Hyogo, and just the news of his brother’s incident, the weeping he must have done in public and bedside, you didn’t even question his exhaustion.

With your eyes on Osamu’s still figure, you moved to rub your hand soothingly along the length of Atsumu’s back. Comfort him was your thought process. Comfort your brother because Osamu would have wanted you to.

Was it bad to say that, inside, burrowed deep in your selfishness, you felt relief? There was a certain calmness that Osamu had been lacking lately, like a Tuesday morning where he finally, begrudgingly, gave himself an extra day off.

It wasn’t until you felt liquid dip down your neck that you realized you were crying.

Dark hair sweetly tussled to the side, one hand held in Atsumu’s and the other loosely laid over his chest. The scene was a rewind to the past, a replica of a childhood stored in the photo albums you’ve perused more than once in the Miya family home, when sharing beds and staying up until dawn led them to sleeping in until noon. When was the last time you’d seen him so… calm?

If only there weren’t any bandages on his head. If only it didn’t take these kinds of circumstances to finally close his eyes, to allow himself an unlabored breath.

You pulled up a chair and situated yourself amongst them. Atsumu at Osamu’s right, and you at Atsumu’s. Rolling a hand over Osamu’s thigh, you tucked the blankets in, pressed it into the crevices, his soft body heavy under your ministrations. Neither of them noticed you. Osamu only shuffled slightly, tilted his knee to the side and then clenched Atsumu harder. Atsumu responded immediately and scooted in. You stayed beside them, observed from the side.

There was no bitterness to your actions. What they have is something different and sincerely, for them to even love you so much that their bond bent, that they made themselves flexible to fit you in, it had always been enough.

Atsumu was who you called when you couldn’t talk sense into Osamu. And Osamu was who you turned to when Atsumu’s pride refused to allow him to fully run to his brother.

Ma came later. She brought a matcha swiss roll for the both of you to share and Atsumu a complete bento. It roused both of her boys up. Atsumu woke up first.

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his left hand, the one still joined with Osamu’s and though he woke with his nose in the air, his freehand started reaching for you the moment he recognized you were there.

Your tears brought on his. His yours. Yours Ma’s. You held each other close and you whispered, because Atsumu could not bring himself to speak, words of consolation.

“He looks okay,” you muttered, eyes closed because you couldn’t chance a glance to look at him, to really, really look at him. “He’s going to be fine. He’s so stubborn. He’s going to be okay.”

Whether the words were salt or sugar on wounds, it was hard to tell because all that emptied from anyone’s eyes were tears.

No one expected to be here. Who did? Even when you watched Osamu sign the insurance policy and signed your name next to his just in case something happened. Something could never happen to you or Atsumu or Ma or Osamu. These were precautions to ease the heart, not the premise of a tragedy.

But even then, it would be dishonest for you to admit that Osamu’s accident was the most devastating part. You’re only being truthful because true pain began when Osamu woke up.

Atsumu noticed first. Even with his back to his brother, it was instinct that forced him to turn around. His groggy eyes were barely open. You could only see a slit of gray, drowsy and clouded like an overcast morning as his hand patted the edges of his bed as if in search of something. Of Atsumu.

The dutiful brother forewent everything. You, his ma, his bento, and immediately bent down to reach for his brother with both hands. He was at his side immediately, a cup of water brought to Osamu’s parched lips without a word before you could even recognize that Osamu was awake and against all disbelief, that he looked okay.

You took the napkin that was neatly folded atop of Atsumu’s bento, the one that had somehow been passed onto you and quickly made your way to Osamu’s side. To Atsumu’s side. And when Atsumu’s hand pulled back and Osamu resigned himself to a weary groan, eyes shut to take a physical break from all the hurt you were sure he was feeling, you handed Atsumu the napkin. He wiped the corner of his brother’s mouth with a gentleness you had never seen him bear.

An eerie silence persisted in the room as everyone held their breath. Osamu did so because of the aches and everyone else as a life vest because one wrong exhale felt like this reality could slip away.

It did. Frighteningly quick. Relief dissolved from your chest like cotton candy in water and all was left was this cloying and overbearing feeling of inconsolable despondence and disbelief because how? How did you end up here?

Osamu flinched when you pressed your hand against his thigh, a quick jerk that you surmised had to do with the fact that he had his eyes closed. You twisted your palm and stroked up, a move that you had done many, many times before, a premise to sex, a plea for comfort, and instead of him falling prey to your touch, he jerked out of your reach. There wasn’t even enough time for you to react because Atsumu had gripped your hand away between clammy fingers.

You looked between the two boys with a heart going brittle.

“What’s wrong, Samu?”

Said man took one quick glance at you before settling his gaze on his brother and a foreign expression passed him. Insecurity. He pressed himself deeper into his pillows and it forced Atsumu forward and you back as Osamu passed a glance to his mother.

He looked like a boy. And between exchanging glances at his mother and brother, Osamu couldn’t seem to find it in himself to return his gaze back to you.

Atsumu gripped his brother’s shoulder, “Samu, Samu. It’s okay. I’m here. We’re here.”

Osamu responded silently with a glazed stare that made Atsumu sputter. “Samu? Ya feel okay? Can ya tell me how ya feeling right now?”

The question seemed far too much to handle because all that was received was silence. Atsumu was hardly holding himself together with the tears that spilled from his eyes onto blotted, pink cheeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to move forward. You wanted to help carry this burden, hold Osamu like you’d done many times before, but the world felt skewed. Instead of being at his bedside, you felt like you were standing outside a window, watching the scene from a distance.

“Do ya… do ya know who I am?”

Ma broke first. You remember reaching backwards and gripping a wet hand full of used tissues, the fibers sticking to your skin.

“Samu. Samu.” Atsumu repeated his name over and over again like prayer, an incantation meant for miracles. “Samu. Say my name.”

“Tsumu.” The small croak was accompanied by the mildest glare, a small fire of insult always and specifically reserved for his brother and Atsumu choked.

“Fuck. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s me. Ya remember our birthday?”

“October.”

“What day?”

His face pinched momentarily.

“What day, Samu?”

“What happened?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Atsumu tried to deflect, “just try to think about it. What day is our birthday, Samu?”

“Atsumu…” Ma finally gained the strength to speak, a tiny chide that she was too exhausted to actually give any weight.

“Fifth,” Osamu pushed himself to sound out, like the word was a foreign tongue.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Atsumu brushed his brother’s hair with his fingers and the sight was disconcerting because despite how close they were, how they were one part of a whole, they had never been so careful. A childhood of roughhousing and testing limits proved invincibility.

Bruises and beatings and cuts that they wrought on eachother and yet there Atsumu was, tending to his brother as if he’d been his caretaker all his life.

“Ya recognize anyone else in the room?”

“Course I recognize Ma, ya idiot.” He coughed in between, stutters forming one worded sentences, but the attitude brought on the brightest smile on Atsumu’s face.

“Yeah, and who else?”

You remember moving to lift your hand, the one pressed against your lips to keep them from trembling, the one that wasn’t holding Ma’s, to provide a shy wave but thank the gods it stayed. Because when Osamu finally urged himself to look at you, instead of the ardor and the sweet groggy expression right before early morning kisses, he winced in pain. You muffled the sound of shock, but no one noticed with Atsumu’s screeching chair as he rushed to hover over Osamu’s anguished figure.

He writhed for an achingly long moment, though it must have been just seconds. You would have ran off if Ma didn’t force her grip on you tighter but once Osamu could melt back into his hospital bed, Atsumu turned his head.

His expression was tight and so desperately trying to be controlled despite himself. But you weren’t an idiot because beyond the glassy edge of hurt and worry and fear, if you dove deeper beneath the well of tears that pooled in his eyes, was blame.

Atsumu turned his back to you and pressed his brother’s head into his chest as he rubbed large strikes across his back. “It’s okay, Samu. Sorry I pushed ya. Ya did well. Ya did good. Ya gonna be okay.”

And before Ma could stop you, you ran out the door with the excuse that you were going to find a doctor. You turned down the hallways, heedless of direction, where you were able to find what you thought was a secluded cove. The torment was gushing, a pain that you’d never felt or could even begin to understand. No matter how you expelled the misery, in tears or heaves or wracked out sobs, the hurt never abated. It was limitless.

Because for some ridiculous reason, this felt like all your fault.

You were only able to spend minutes crouched in the privacy of your corner until a nurse found you. It must have been a usual sight because she hovered over you, a quiet calm in her voice, as she led you away with a bottle of juice in one hand and into a room where no one else was. She said nothing, only passed napkins your way and didn’t blame you when you couldn’t find it in yourself to express gratitude. Afterward, she pointed down a long hallway and told you that when you were ready, that’s where the waiting room was.

Ma came by maybe an hour later. The pain at that point had swelled into your marrow, aching at every movement you made, but the bubbling river of tears had turned shallow. Now they were silent streams. You had spent the last half hour in solidarity with the teen who cried to her mom over the phone, catching glances every time a sniffle turned wet, and seated in the spot with a lingering guava and menthol scent.

Ma sat where the grandmother had, you beside her. Without glancing up, she placed the matcha roll in your hands, half eaten but notably uneven because you had the larger half.

Her touch lingered. It stayed. When it prompted more crying, the reality that you were a pitiable sight, that this wasn’t just shared between you and the girl with her arm around her stomach and the wordless nurse, the swollen bones in your body bursted.

Ma’s cold hands easily maneuvered you into her bosom. She held like you’d seen her hold Osamu in pictures when he was sick, like how she held Aran when he cried after coming back home after being away for so long.

“We’ll get through this.”

It sounded like an empty sentiment but if anyone were able to make the impossibles come true, it was Ma and Ma alone. You barely believed her, but maybe. Most likely not, but maybe, she was right.

So you nodded into her chest but she only clicked her tongue behind her teeth.

“Together,” she told you sternly, “as a family. I don’t want to hear none of that.” Ma held you tighter when she felt you pull away. “Ya’ve been my daughter for a long time now. Even if the two of ya never got married.”

You’d been trying to be so strong. For Osamu because it was obvious. He was your partner for life, and though the vows were never spoken, you had lived them. For all the good, the bad, the happy, and the sick.

But Atsumu, his pain was tenfold and you had to do something, even if it was to tread the thorny footpath to be by his side, even if it was just your hands cupped open so you could help carry his misery.

Then Ma held you like she was strong enough to piece you together again and you trusted her. Your wails were muffled into her cardigan and she rocked you back and forth despite the arms of the uncomfortable chairs in the way.

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t–” your breath ceased, words lingering in the air because living it is already unbearable enough.

“He does.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Ya think a love like the two of ya had is that easy to forget?”

It wasn’t. Or at least, it wasn’t supposed to. But the way Osamu had winced in pain at the sight of you, and Atsumu’s imperceptible glare, maybe it was best to be forgotten.

Ma took your silence as agreement because the circle of her arms loosened. She pulled back so that she could wipe your tears with a bent index finger.

It was jarring seeing the puffy rise below her eyes. She had always been beautiful in your opinion. A simple charm for life and the zest derived from raising two wildly vivacious boys kept her young. In a single day, she aged a decade and you wondered how you compared.

“The doctor is on their way. Come on,” she tapped you the same way she did whenever Atsumu started an unnecessary argument, “let’s go see what they have to say.”

Atsumu’s expression flashed in your mind, hesitation clenched her cardigan tighter, “but Atsumu…”

“Don’t be mad at Atsumu,” your throat had lurched when she looked away from you, head tilted to the side as if you had just slapped her across the face. “He’s going through a lot. He doesn’t know what to do.”

And you remember how your grip relaxed, how your arms had fallen into your lap, diminutive and so, very exhausted. Never did it cross your mind to be angry at the way any of them ached. Not Ma, not Atsumu, and especially not Osamu. If there was anyone you hated, it was yourself for even being there.

Ma said you were family. But Atsumu and Osamu, of course, they would always be her boys.

Osamu was asleep when you reentered the room and Atsumu held your hand as if nothing had ever happened. He stood up immediately when the doctor stopped by, eyes forward. Something had changed that day. Atsumu was a different man.

He’d have neverending stories of when he was captain at Inarizaki, and he liked to pass time by retelling another instance where he had to wrangle control of Bokuto, or Sakusa, or Hinata. Atsumu’s passion and sense of righteousness were great qualities for a leader, but his clumsy delivery always made him the butt of Osamu’s (among others) jokes.

That day had changed him. His footfall was sure despite his blemished expression as he listened faithfully to the doctor, only ascertaining everything you had already deduced.

It all made sense, logically, scientifically, situationally.

The fire was still being investigated but from the report, it had loosened the foundation of Onigiri Miya and it caused a beam from the ceiling to strike him flat against the head. He’d been knocked unconscious before the flames could even consume the restaurant and if it hadn’t been for the regulars and the community that had memorized their favorite restauranteur’s habits, no one would have even known he was inside.

As you all waited for Osamu to come to again, you’d rationalized the incident repeatedly in your mind. Reality though, was never as kind.

Because even in the tepid fluorescent light, you couldn't convince yourself. This could not be real.

It’s not. You knew this, but Osamu spoke with such vindication, honesty in every breath that even he had you fooled.

“Ya traded out Kageyama when we were six points down in the second set.” Osamu recited to his brother at his bedside, in the same spot, in the same clothes, in the same battered expression. “And I remember cheering ya on from the bench when ya set the winning point to Aran against Russia.”

The silence that followed was cold. A shiver started at the dip of your shoulder blades, and wrung you out like a towel squeezed dry.

The doctors had said something like this would happen. Memories could return a little misplaced, as if you had just moved everything two inches to the left because it exactly was as Osamu said.

In the 2020 Olympics, Japan faced Russia in the first round. They won the first set, but struggled hard in the second. To prevent risking their lead, Kageyama was subbed out for Atsumu. The tides had turned and they won with Aran scoring the last point.

Yes, Osamu was there. But rather than on the bench, he was outside the arena. You were manning the register and he’d stepped outside the final moments of the match, standing there with his arms crossed like a dad, cap in one hand, and head tilted at the enormous screen that streamed the ongoing match inside.

Atsumu was the one who made the first sound. It was strangled and faded when his brother gave him a peculiar look. Then he glanced at his mother, urging answers out with his eyes, staring at everything before landing at you. His face contorted in pain, but Atsumu saved him. He grabbed his brother’s cheeks, hair glued to his skin, and he pressed his forehead against his brothers, and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what happened.”

That was the extent of what you could take and you ran out of the room, droplets of your tears mingling with the tile’s speckled pattern, and when the door clicked again, you didn't have to look up to know who it was.

“I’m sorry.”

Through your blurry vision, the world graying, darkness descending right before your eyes, it was like you were speaking to Osamu himself.

“He looks happy for the first time and I’m so sorry.” The Atsumu-Osamu amalgamation held your hands desperately.

Their individualism had always been easy to parse, especially with you being devotedly in love with one and having developed a brotherly affection for the other, but you allowed yourself this. If your heart must break, let Osamu herald this pain. No one else.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He pulled you in by the shoulders and hugged you. He sniveled wet breaths into your neck just as you darkened the cloth on his back. “It’s the first time I feel whole.”

The sting reappeared between your nose and you found it harder to breathe so you clutched him tighter in a feeble attempt to expel all the excess tension that had ballooned in your chest.

“I know.”

Though the fact did little to ease you, you'd never been able to compare. What is Osamu’s had always been Atsumu’s and vice versa, too. Joint custody in all things: pride, success, pain.

Memory.

“And I don’t want to break that yet. Not for him.” Not for me he said silently. “And I love ya and I know ya love him. Ya love him so much and he loves ya too but–”

But I love him more. I love him in a way you could never.

“I know.”

Osamu would pinch your lips shut if he were really here. He’d never stand for your way of thinking because comparing yourself to his brother was a thought he never entertained.

That’s like apples to oranges or whatever that saying is. I chose ya. I choose ya for the rest of my life and I just happen to be stuck with that guy for life.

You took Atsumu’s face in your hands. Wet cheeks stuck to your fingers as you collected tears along your lash line until the world blurred just enough that blonde turned dark brown and golden rays faded to gray.

“- but I don’t want to take this away from him yet. Ya heard the doctor. He said we could try some exposure therapy so that his memory can unwonk itself out again, but ya saw that didn’t ya?”

Tears burned down your chin when you gave a somber nod, “I did.”

“When he was talking about being in the Olympics, I… I just–” he bit his lip, the memory painful, “ –and he got all those details correct, I just couldn’t tell him no.”

“I know.”

You couldn’t either.

“We’ll start the therapy when everything settles down. Maybe he’ll start remembering things on his own but it’s been a lot for him to deal with. The injuries, his memory, the shop–”

You shook your head and the man before you paused. He looked surprised with his mouth open for breath, but the foremost expression did not hide how he felt yesterday.

Your thumb started at the plump of his face and swiped up to the ridges of his cheekbones. A clean slate.

“It’s okay. Osamu will be okay.”

Your love was Osamu’s choice. Atsumu’s will always be shared.

After that day, you kept your presence minimal. Only occasionally stopping by, slowly relinquishing the things that the old Osamu, the one that knew you, valued. Each time, he’d hold the item like it was foreign. You watched from the corner of the room, like a diminutive decoration, maybe even a broom, and spectated as Atsumu helped him pull item after item.

The black hoodie, stained at the cuffs, and chewed strings at the ends, the one he had first shared with you.

(The night descended softly, like the flutter of silk sheets, and before you knew it, you’d been in Osamu’s front seat talking nonsense and sharing an assortment of leftovers he’d brought from Onigiri Miya. You’d only been talking for a couple of weeks, slowly getting to know each other outside of customer and cook, but it’s been months of patronage. When Osamu texted you after his shift and found you still awake despite your early start the next morning, he invited you out for a drive.

You’d heard him before he arrived, the worn out truck of his announcing his presence. He had the audacity to apologize for the poor state his vehicle was in, as if it wasn’t endearing, as if he didn’t make you feel like a princess when he held his hand across the console for leverage.

And here you are now, at a hilltop overlooking a beautiful city you’d moved to in a drowsy silence. His presence is calming, a knitted blanket that softens the bite of the night air. It doesn’t stop you from shivering though.

Osamu notices immediately, head snapping to you when you do.

“Ya cold?” he asks, but regardless of your answer, he’s taking action. The man braces a hand around your bare thigh since you’d only come out in sleep shorts and shirt (though you still made sure to check yourself in the mirror before heading out) and just the warmth beneath his touch makes you ache. You lean closer, just a slight movement over the console for any residual heat he has to offer, the seats of his vehicle a sharp contrast.

“Still working on fixing her,” Osamu explains, “she’s a little off in some spots. Her heater don’t work and she leaks some fluid every hundred kilometers but she’s still a beaut.”

Your smile makes Osamu pause. His body is turned as he tries to reach for something in the back, but just the sight of your expression makes him stop and fully face you so he can take it in.

You think it’s cute how he talks about his car, how despite all her flaws, he can see her value. The world has been hard on you, but he gives you hope. From the moment you met eyes on him at your office and when you walked into his shop months later, greeting you with a fond welcome because he remembered you, he makes you think that he can see your true value too.

And with the way he leans in, his eyes glancing between yours and your lips, his hand unknowingly dragging up and down for the feel of more skin, you think he does.

The kiss is chaste, so innocent like the first drop of sunlight in the winter. It warms you from the inside out with a crisp feeling that makes you feel renewed.

Barely a second, but Osamu has you wishing for more. You’ve noticed he has a tendency to do that, to have you eager and hungry for all that he has to offer. How from just one bite of his catered food to your office, you couldn’t help but visit his shop as well.

Though your lips have parted, your faces have not. Osamu’s lashes are long from this point of view, and his skin looks lovely in the moonlight. You’re so close that you can see the small veins, blue and greens below his eyes. The colors are so distracting, his breath so warm across your cheeks, you can’t help but stare, memorize everything before the chance to do so again is taken from you.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

His husky words create a vortex of desire, consuming you wholly. You can’t help but squirm in your seat.

“Like what?” You’re doing your best to keep it cool, but you can hear the fray in your voice, reedy and needy and wanting. It’s scary to even think of the power he has over you.

“Like,” his pause forces you to glance at him and you see it too, a mirrored expression of yearning. It’s so intense the way your barriers break. It’s scary. You want to pull away, escape the emotions that are hardly within your control but he tilts your chin with an index finger and thumb. The motion is so gentle, the slightest touch with the heaviest of meanings, and he continues to stare. Maybe even admire. “Yeah, like that. Ya gonna make me go insane.”

“Me too,” you whine. It’s unfair, so unfair what he can do just with his eyes.

His expression hardens. The corners of his eyes crinkles as he glares his sight down on you, “don’t. If I kiss ya again, I don’t know if I can control myself. Ya don’t know how bad I want ya.”

“I’m right here.”

Your reply induces a vexed response. He has to breathe heavily through his nose as he fully moves his fingers to cup your cheeks. You watch as his chest rises, the breadth of it expanding as the tendons in his neck protrude at the action. Then he looks down on you from a head that’s tilted back and you see it, the subdued hunger that you’re sure he’s trying to persuade back inside. It’s frighteningly beautiful. The attraction beckons you forward despite his grip on your face keeping you still in your spot.

“Why?” You have to ask. What is all this discipline for when clearly, it’s reciprocated.

“Because,” Osamu grits. His hand travels to the back of your head and you can feel the strength of his grip, the promise of more beneath his fingertips. “If I’m gonna wreck ya, I’m gonna wreck ya right. So quit being the devil’s little thing, and let me take ya out on a real date so I can have ya properly.”

You pout but his thumb moves to push the plump of your lips back in, “no, ya hear me? Ya keep those pretty lips in. Be good and I’ll promise I’ll treat ya even better. Ya okay with that?”

His dominance, the assuredness in his words but the ragged pitch in his voice, as if he’s hardly holding himself together, as if he wants this just as bad, or maybe even more than you do has you finally agreeing despite the fact that you’d give it all. Forget the shame or the ladylike propriety of saving yourself for when you’re sure. Lust is a persuasive speaker, but Osamu, he is a promise you want to ensure you’ll have.

“Good,” Osamu is pleased with your ascent.

His attention returns to his back seat and he pulls out a black hoodie for you to put on. When you pop your head through the collar, you don’t expect the confident man to suddenly be so bewildered, mouth agape and wrist hanging dumbly from the 12 o’clock position of his steering wheel.

“What?” you ask though you know the answer. It’s a giddy feeling to know there is a power balance between the two of you.

“Ya, uhm, ya,” Osamu coughs into his hand, turning his head away before looking back at you. “That shit’s old. All stained up and ragged but. Ya make it look good.”

You look down, sleeves well past your hands where you notice blots littering the cuffs. You can’t help but bring the strings up to eye level. There are teeth marks indenting the aglet and you give Osamu a dubious stare.

He shuffles, a nervous chuckle, “like to chew on them sometimes. Keeps my mouth busy.”

Then without a second thought, you bring it to your mouth to chew it on your own. If he won’t kiss you, an indirect kiss has to suffice. His agonized groan is worth it.

Osamu takes you out on an official date the very next day.)

Osamu spared one second for the article of clothing and tossed it to his night stand. You pretended that he didn’t just break your heart.

The next item was Vabo-chan, but not the same one Osamu had brought into your shared apartment. That one faced its demise after a neighbor’s dog ran inside when you accidentally left the door open and used it as a chew toy.

(“What are ya doing on the floor like that?” you hear the door to your bedroom creak but petulantly refuse to acknowledge him. His steps thud, hollow over the cheap wood of your home.

“Hey,” he nudges you with his foot, “ya asleep? Ya gonna hurt ya back if ya stay like that.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Are ya crying?”

“No!” Denying but not hiding, you curl into yourself even further.

Osamu bothers this time to actually hold you with his hands, gentler, more patient. He softens his tone too, “hey, hey. What are we doing?”

He waits for you to react, doesn’t continue pressing further and refuses to leave you alone.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you lift your head up, fresh tears as you admit your failure. You expect Osamu to comfort you, abate the sting of your own proclamation. He stares at you for a moment before he starts laughing in your face.

“You hate me!”

“Hey, now that’s going too far. I don’t hate ya.”

“But you think I’m stupid.”

“Just occasionally. Like when ya make impulse decisions.”

Hearing him makes you scream into your palms. Osamu laughs and urges you into his lap.

“What’d ya do?”

He’s so mean to know you so well, all the good and the bad.

“Tell me. So we can cry together.”

You press your face into his shirt, using it as a napkin to wipe away your tears, ignoring his mild grunt of disgust when you do. “Remember when Vabo-chan got eaten? Well I bought you a new one to replace him because you were sad.”

“Did ya?” His voice sounds so surprised, it makes breaking the bad news feel even worse. “That’s mighty nice of ya. Doesn’t make ya stupid.”

“Okay, but—“ You scramble off him, knee digging into his thigh that he makes a noise of pain, to get a box tucked underneath the bed. Your hand runs across the frayed cardboard where it had ripped open from your excitement. Hesitation stops you but Osamu places his palm on top of yours. Careful and encouraging and though you know he’s going to laugh at you, you finally open it up but stop yourself by placing a hand on top of the item.

“I was so excited! Because they don’t sell him anymore, just the vintage ones that are super expensive.”

“I know.” He’d been talking about it with Atsumu and his Ma, conversations you’d overheard on the phone.

“But I saw it and it was super affordable so I bought it without thinking, but,” you look up at him and he smiles. It makes you hide your face in the box but he’ll eventually admit to you later on how cute you had looked then. How distraught you were on his behalf and that then, in that moment, he’d truly felt loved. “Don’t laugh!”

“I won’t.”

Your constant hesitation brings on Osamu’s impatience and he tries to pry your fingers away, “okay. Seriously. Don’t laugh or I’ll cry.”

“I told ya, I won’t.”

The plush comes out on your own accord and before he has any time to process the sight, you begin overexplaining. “It’s a counterfeit! They gave him a nose and his name is Bavo-kun. I’m so stupid!”

Osamu’s too quiet, expression unreadable as he looks at the stuffed toy. Your heart is teetering on the edge of a cliff, so close to falling off and on the verge of tears once again. Then he bellows out a solid bellow from the gut. Before you can crumble into embarrassment, Osamu pulls you back against him, squishing stupid Bavo-kun between you two and holding you tightly against his chest.

“I love him,” his voice turns wistful. “Bavo-kun.”

“I hate him. He’s so ugly.”

“That ain’t right to say about ya kid.”

“What?”

“Look at him.” His eyes fall to your chests, forcing you to take in the hideous sight of your failings. “He’s got ya nose.”

“That is not funny, Miya Osamu.”

“Oh no, Bavo-kun. She used my full name. What are we gonna do? Ma’s mad.”

You slap his chest. Bavo-kun is collateral damage, “don’t call me that!”

Osamu’s humor is all sorts of fucked up. His laughter is excessive, shaking the both of you that he loses his balance and you guys fall to the floor. A hand of his comes to cup your cheek, acting as a buffer before you thud onto the ground and with your heights at the same level, tears drying out, you can finally see his expression clearly.

He reminds you of gemstones at moonlight, the sparkle of something beautiful. Light cannot replicate it, only refract it. And though it’s close-lipped, his smile pulls you back from the edge, melts you to the ground and anchors you back with him.

“I love this life,” Osamu confesses, “This family. I love ya and our little mishap.”)

The way Osamu’s eyes had lit, you couldn’t help but clasp your mouth to hide the smile that blossomed beneath. It was devastating how despite it all, his joy elicited yours.

“Vabo-chan!” Osamu looked to his brother in an eager excitement. “Remember how we begged Ma to buy us this when we were little?”

“Yeah. Then we had a sleepover every night with the four of us. Tucked them in with their own pillow too”

Osamu lifted up the plush’s hands, fondness tight in his expression. His eyes roamed, though they were elsewhere, remembering the memories he never lost.

“Wait a second,” Osamu’s expression hardened. His hands traced over the lines on the Bavo-kun’s face, flipped him over to read the tag, and when it didn't provide the information he wanted, he turned the toy over again to face it directly. “This ain’t Vabo-chan. The hell is this fake shit?”’

Atsumu was quick to return to damage control the way he had been these past couple of days. He plucked the toy and tossed it to a chair on the side and told Osamu not to worry, that Vabo-chan was back in Osaka in Atsumu’s home because Osamu was kind enough to lend him his when Atsumu left the one he owned on an airplane.

New memories. Fake memories.

Lies.

You were out before anyone could stop you. Not that either of the boys would have since in the midst of this whole facade, all you were was a burdensome truth.

You laid in bed accompanied with misery. The emotion made for a poor cuddle partner but it kept you company as you shivered and wailed into pillows that hardly smelled like the Osamu who knew you anymore.

Ma called. The image of her worried eyes made you answer, but when she’d update you about Osamu, how she’d first tell you he was getting better and then, as if an afterthought, urged you to visit him, you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you didn’t want to hear it.

So you started ignoring her calls. She was persistent, as expected of a woman who raised a set of rowdy boys all on her own. She knocked on your door between two minute intervals, called and texted in the gaps between and you made excuses like you were busy working over time to catch up on the job you’d left behind.

All untrue because you’d emailed your supervisor that you’d be on an indefinite leave of absence with no explanation. There was no part of you ready to meld back into the real world again. Your world had ended, your existence ceased and now it was your duty to find your place again.

Ma’s final message was an update that Osamu was getting discharged from the hospital. She mentioned that the family would be moving to Osaka at Atsumu’s insistence. She wanted you to come by before they left.

You didn’t.

With the money you’d gotten from selling Osamu’s food truck, a phone with a dying battery lost beneath your bed, you traveled in the opposite direction to Okinawa.

It was supposed to be healing. You were supposed to recreate a new identity here, find yourself in the beaches, among the company of strangers, smoothened into fine stone and drawn back to shore after getting caught in the riptide.

But here you are, with misery steeped so deep within your bones that it’s turned you bitter.

You leave your budget lodging only because your stomach tells you to and the measly mini fridge of your studio had nothing but flat soda. There’s no reason to look in the mirror, a quick scrub across your face is enough to remove the crust from your eyes and dried drool from the corner of your lips.

The convenience store is just around the corner from your temporary home. You’ve been trying to maintain your elusive nature, hoping you can leave the island as folklore, by limiting your patronage and entering the establishment at various times.

It’s the first time you smell fresh air, and admittedly, it does feel good against your skin. Much more palatable than your room which was already scented by mold when you entered. There’s birds singing and even the scent of smog excites your stale senses.

The world is so effortlessly beautiful.

And that’s what makes it so cruel.

You push your way into the convenience store, the aggressive movement rattling the bell above.

By your last visit, you’d memorized the aisles so you stroll on through with a single basket in hand. The thought process is careless as you pick out which shelf stable meals you’ll have for the week. It’s not until you reach the cold beverage section that this mundane visit turns into something interesting.

You squat to level yourself with the bottom shelf, debating whether or not you had the energy to carry a full twelve pack the half kilometer back. Just the thought of it hits you with a sudden feeling of fatigue that you cannot help but groan and press your forehead against the fridge door.

You’d spent the past two weeks alone so just the quiet call of your name has you jumping up defensively.

Akaashi looks down at you unimpressed.

“What are you doing here?” You look around, fearful that Atsumu or another one of Osamu’s volleyball confidants might be around. “Are you following me?”

Akaashi is an acquaintance at best, an Onigiri Miya fanatic at most. You hardly had a chance to have a conversation with the man when every time you saw him, he spent most of it with a face stuffed full of onigiri.

Your reaction flattens his expression even further.

“No, I did not take a three hour flight all the way to Okinawa only to watch you buy alcohol in your,” Akaashi pauses, “sleepwear.”

He has a point so you settle in the defeat by glaring at him.

“I am on a company retreat,” he finally explains. “You are far from home.”

“Retreat,” quick to use his verbiage, “yeah, I’m on a retreat, too.”

He eyes you then glances to the fridge door. You glance along with him and notice that the oils of your skin transferred onto the glass panel and do your best to hide your embarrassment with anger instead.

“What,” you challenge, feeling awfully prickly today and poor Akaashi is the one you get to take it out on. Who else? Certainly not Ma, or Atsumu, or Osamu or the nice landlord who handed you keys without question. Of course, you’re particularly nasty with yourself as of late, but if you can share the beating with someone like Akaashi whose deadpan nature is persevering, then so be it. Now that Osamu’s erased you from his life, it’s not like your social circles will ever collide again.

“You look…” Akaashi doesn’t spare you any grace. His eyes roam over your figure, disgust especially contorting his features when he witnesses the sight of your shoddy pants that have seen better days. In fairness, so have you. “Maudlin.”

Despite not knowing the definition of the word, you gather context from just the tone of his voice and it immediately makes you frown.

Defensive, you’re quick to retort. Because who is he, baggy eyed Akaashi, hangnail ridden Akaashi, squinty and blind Akaashi, no owning hairbrush Akaashi, to speak of your current condition?

“And you look like your retreat isn’t retreating.”

You get up, discreetly rubbing your self portrait in sebum with a pants leg, and impulsively decide that you deserve the 12 pack thanks to this new inconvenience. The pack slams against the glass door when the suspension forces it back too quickly. Akaashi moves to help but you cast a glare before he can.

“I do not need help,” you supply.

His reply is nonplussed, “you do.”

“I don’t,” and now the corner decides to catch on the gasket. Akaashi ignores your small grunts and your quiet insistence, pulling the door wide open.

You thank him begrudgingly only because it’s the socially acceptable thing to do but the man doesn’t let you stray much further.

“What if I bought another pack?” That catches your attention. More liquor, less lucidity, less opportunity to remember you’re sad. It seems to be a curse these days, the power of memory, and for once, you think it’s quite unrelenting. “And I paid for your items? Will you let me camp out wherever you’re staying?”

“There’s only one bed.”

“The floor is fine.”

“It smells like mold.”

“Let’s buy a candle before we leave.”

There’s a desperation that you recognize, a solidarity between two persons barely hanging on and the least bit put together. It shouldn’t be so exciting to find someone as miserable as you but isn’t that what they say? Misery loves company.

“Holy fuck,” you grin at him, sardonic, “I don’t remember liking you so much, Akaashi.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

It’s a stupid response, a very Akaashi response, so you giggle manically and kick a pack with the toe of your shoe.

“Grab the 24 pack. We’ve got some retreating to do.”

Akaashi is running away from his responsibilities and so are you. He locks himself in your studio without a mention of its disarray and happily sleeps on the flat futon provided by your temporary landlord with a single fitted sheet and your neck pillow. The amenities offered are quite militant, but considering the price point, you cannot complain and neither does Akaashi.

Neither of you mention what sorts of horrors plague your sleep, a respect for each other’s privacy, because despite enjoying his company, life did not bring you two together out of kindness.

There’s a reason why the underneath of his eyes have swelled to a charcoal gray the same way you cannot help but begin your mornings with a beer. The two of you watch reruns of old childhood shows and every so often, Akaashi wordlessly gets up to go outside for a smoke. You thank the heavens there’s no balcony so you wouldn’t have to face the familiar sight of a back lazily bent over a railing and the slow wisp of smoke. He comes back inside with the hint of tobacco on him and you think he’s noticed how it makes you choke because the first thing he does is wash his hands before sitting next to you again.

He chooses to abide by the code of silence until the fifth day. It’s an evening where the bed has been stripped bare, the room emptier than it already is.Your dirty clothes had been piling up but it had been a struggle to clean them when laundry felt like a hug, the firm press of a collar and a lost nape. The two of you lie on the floor and bide time while you wait for the linens and whatever paltry laundry either of you have dry.

Akaashi dons a white undershirt and sleep shorts, you in a shirt that doesn’t belong to you. It doesn’t belong to anyone actually, because its owner has abandoned it too.

He holds a half eaten Okinawa style onigiri in his hand and the sight is so familiar you don’t pay him any mind. Your thoughts are gluey from the alcohol so it takes an extra line for the jokes to settle. Laughter is muffled by your forearms where you’ve placed your chin, laying on your belly and big toe tracing a gap between tiles on the floor.

Even the sound of Osamu’s name takes longer to process.

But you still remember. You devotedly will.

“These onigiris taste different from Myaa-sam’s,” Akaashi says beside you.

You lay a cheek on your arm and look up at the cross legged man. He finally got his glasses and other belongings from his previous room yesterday. A smile is already plastered on your face because the liquor makes Akaashi funnier than usual.

The joke never comes.

“Did you ever want to talk about it?”

His question prompts self reflection. Talk about what? What was there to say when the two of you have been so busy running. Immediately, you scramble to get up onto the smooth surface of the stripped mattress to put some distance between you two.

“That’s why you’re here, right?”

Beneath glasses, Akaashi’s eyes have a pointed edge to them.

“What do you know?” It’s suddenly so cold now with the space between you and there’s nothing to cover you up. You can only pull your knees to your chest.

“Nothing.” Akaashi turns to look at the TV. He watches the scene play out until it cuts to a commercial. “Atsumu doesn’t say anything. He’s been uncharacteristically tight lipped.”

Akaashi says uncharacteristically but you’re not surprised at all. This sounds exactly like the Atsumu you know now. It fouls your mood and has you reaching for your emotional support sake from the nightstand.

“He tells everyone to entertain Osamu lest he get a traumatic episode.”

“You’ve seen him?”

“No,” Akaashi watches your face deflate so he tacks on that Bokuto has.

Tension coils the muscles along your bones. It makes you feel frigid so you gulp down the rice wine in hopes that it warms you up from the inside out. Akaashi only watches. He never mentions your drinking habits. You don’t say anything about his smoking tendencies. These were the boundaries you were supposed to respect, but the man keeps on pushing.

“I heard you sold the food truck.”

“How else could I afford all this luxury?” Your hands stretch out to broadcast the shoebox the two of you call home.

He’s used to your defensive sarcasm by now, only taking a singular bite from his onigiri. “So the branch in Tokyo?”

You laugh. “Not happening.”

Then you finish the whole bottle with an aggressive gulp. You flatten yourself against the bare mattress. You ignore him, pretend you’re alone, pretend you’re okay, and you accept the dizzying fall into slumber.

When you wake, the laundry is brought in. It smells exactly like down and a headache. The digital clock on the nightstand tells you it’s midnight so you drink a bottle of water and work on fitting the sheets to the bed. For your efforts, you reward yourself with another can of beer. Then another. It only takes two for you to fall asleep again.

The both of you don’t broach the topic. He reels you back in with a sense of normalcy, the routine of bumming it in front of the TV and the unhealthy eating habits. Even when you blurt out that onigiris are now banned from the house, he only provides a knowing blink.

Slowly, the space between you two skitters away. He coaxes you in like a stray with indifference and eventually, he’s sat cross legged in front of the TV while you lay next to him on your belly.

The duration of your lease is running out as the month dwindles away into repetition. There’s only a couple of days left but you’ve run out of alcohol and food. It’s a weekend night with prime time television over reruns and you’ve gotten particularly attached to this drama that you started halfway through so Akaashi and you head out one evening to prepare for the last couple days of indulgence.

You should have known Akaashi had something planned when he veered to the left with the excuse of wanting to try out a different store.

Once you heard the quiet roar of waves crashing, you had to pause. A rush of trepidation overcame you. Akaashi was already halfway through the crosswalk when he turned around and noticed you weren’t there. He urged you with his eyes, sharp still below the frames of his glasses. People walk around him and you cannot help but notice their peeved expressions. The sound of cars whiz past and the waves do nothing but recede and crash and it’s all so much to take in.

“No,” you shake your head.

You want to run but where do you go? Forward? Away? Where else because there is no going back.

The crosswalk sign starts blinking and there is renewed severity in Akaashi’s expression. He beckons you with an outstretched hand.

It reminds you of Atsumu, the way he had reached for you the first day at the hospital.

It reminds you of Osamu, the days he’d pull you out of bed when you slept in.

“Come with me,” Akaashi says.

That is all you need to go. The dramatics are uninhibited as you make your way to him, blind with your head bent as one wrist wipes away incessant tears and the other is extended to catch his hand. He takes it. It’s a foreign union with his spindly fingers that are long enough to twine around your wrist like a restrictive vine but you relinquish yourself to it.

Because, this whole time, all you’ve wanted is this: promised, unselfish companionship.

Akaashi leaves you on a bench and returns with meat pies bought from a nearby food truck. The smell of it saturates the area in an appetizing scent of fried deliciousness that has your stomach gurgling. You’ve not had a single healthy meal since you arrived in Okinawa but the alcohol you’ve imbibed religiously for the past few weeks welcomes the offering.

“Have you wondered yet what is going on with me?” A bus whips past you two with an uncomfortable gust of warm wind. You want to pretend that you didn’t hear Akaashi over the sound of the engine, but his silence is imploring.

“Always,” you say.

Akaashi entertains you with a small huff, “you could ask.”

“But then that would breach our secret NDA. Which you have breached by the way. You owe me another 24 pack.”

“Considering I no longer have a job, we might have to put that on hold.”

You reply only with a wide eyed surprise.

“I put in my resignation yesterday.” Akaashi admits. His hands glide up his thigh to clear the grease from his fingertips. “Do you want to ask questions now?”

There’s a lot of questions running through your mind. First of all, why? Why quit? What was the reason? Why did it take you in your pajamas buying alcohol before noon on a foreign island for him to do so?

“Yes, but I won’t.”

“You’re aberrant.”

“I’m assuming that means ridiculous.”

“Close.”

“Share whatever you want to share. I won’t…” you almost hand the crust of your meat pie to Akaashi out of habit. You press it into the napkin instead, crushing it with the pressure of your fingers. “I don’t want to force anything out of you if you’re not ready.”

Akaashi hums. It’s a sound similar to when the understanding of a concept finally dawns on someone. He kicks his long legs out. The Oxfords provide a bouncy noise and it’s only now that you see how aberrant Akaashi is. Near the ocean shore, he wears business casual dress with slacks and though unpressed, he still dons a button down with elbow pads. Freaking elbow pads. You must look ridiculous next to him in your novelty shirt and pajama shorts. It’s been difficult wearing anything that doesn’t have elastic lately and jeans leave for no room to breathe.

He pulls out his cigarettes from his breast pocket and when he remembers, he turns with a silent tilt of his head, asking permission to smoke. You only nod but turn your head away quickly. The gradual exposure to the smell is one thing, but the sight of him smoking might be another step you’re still not ready to take.

The cigarette crackles twice in two long inhales and he makes a point to blow in your opposite direction.

“I’m told that literary composition is not my forte.” You remain quiet, respecting the beginning of Akaashi’s soliloquy. “People tell me that I’m not meant to be an author. The world, actually. My short stories weren’t selling so I tried my hand at writing fanfiction for Meteo Attack, the manga I edit and hardly anyone read it. I even got hostile responses for my characterization.”

He needs another two inhales from the admittance. You don’t blame him.

“My boss and I had been working on a training plan the last two quarters so I could move to the literary department and the night before I met you, we were announced our placements for the next quarter. Mine didn’t change, still editor, still in manga. And when I asked, my boss said he’d be an idiot if he let me leave. I was too good at my job to change positions now. I went on a manic binge, slept through my alarms for the scheduled office activities, saw you, and figured you’d be the best excuse I could have to avoid my boss and coworkers for the rest of the trip.”

The sound of the lighter flicks once more. You listen to the quick initial inhale and the lengthy one that follows.

“My intention was never to quit. It was just like you said, retreat. I wanted to abscond myself of responsibilities for a moment but then I ate the onigiri I bought and I remembered. I remembered lots of late nights in Hyogo with you and Myaa-sam and Bokuto. And it made me think of you.”

“If it’s pity you’re offering, I don’t need it, Akaashi.”

“It’s not. I’m offering another contract. A business one.”

You turn to him and find that the smoker had finished his cigarette already. He gathered saliva in his mouth and discretely spit it on the floor before turning back to you.

“Let’s open Onigiri Miya up again.”

The idea sickens you because just the name of the restaurant brings back an onslaught of memories you’ve been trying to avoid. Osamu in his tight arm sleeves and black apron. His musk after a long night. His weary smile that would worry you only for a second until you realized it was satisfaction that compelled it more than anything. The sweet and salty scent of sticky rice and the starchy feeling on your hands whenever you would swirl your fingers in the buckets of dried grains that Kita would present to you. Long days, long nights, and Osamu, Osamu, Osamu.

“There’s no way. I have no clue how to even begin starting a business.”

“You say that but do you even know if your job will be there when you get back home?”

That was also another pertinent issue you were still planning to avoid.

“There is an Osamu out there right now who doesn’t even know that Onigiri Miya exists. The world is telling you you’re forgotten and there are people out there willing to accept it. But did you? Did you forget?”

His intensity brings on a delicate quality to your voice, “of course not.”

Osamu could forget you, but you? Forget him? The erasure of his existence was something so foreign of a thought that even just the mention of it strained your heart raw.

“I didn’t either. Do you want anyone else to?”

Your response is incomprehensible as you blow snot into your grease laden napkin but the point comes across. For all the weeks you and Akaashi have spent together in the apartment room, he touches you a second time ever, hand atop yours once more.

“Then let’s open Onigiri Miya back up.”

It’s minutes later until you can gather yourself up again and even longer for you to seriously entertain the idea. The night is quiet and you’re thankful there are no passersby to witness this embarrassing exchange.

You think of everyone that Osamu had brought into your life when you walked into his. All the customers and friends and neighbors that offered you joy and small gifts worth living for. Atsumu was okay with throwing it all away, abandoning it just like his high school motto had endorsed.

But they were the ones who found Osamu. They were the ones who saved him, who forced the firefighters to break down Onigiri Miya’s door when the fire began to consume. If not for the community he fostered, he would not have had the second chance he has today.

There’s an Osamu out there that does not love you, that you may never learn to love without being hurt, but there was an Osamu that was beloved by all. If you had to do it for anyone, you’d do it for him.

“Fine.” Akaashi does not move, eerily still as if to not startle you to backtrack. “We can give this a try.”

You settle in with your choice and finally, with a bit of courage, you ask “I know what I am getting out of this, but what are you?”

“A flexible schedule so I can write my novel,” the man beside you answers frankly. Then in a softer voice, he adds, “and maybe I can finally open that branch in Tokyo.”

You cannot help but crack an amused snort. Akaashi joins you with his singular chuckle.

“That seems ambitious.”

It is so grossly, overwhelmingly, exceedingly ambitious to run a restaurant and more so, to even consider a second location. Promises are easy to make on tear-stricken nights amongst the salty air of Okinawa, but back in Hyogo, the air is severely stifling.

Even with more than half a decade of partnership with Osamu, it is a steep learning curve managing all its operations. Your ex boyfriend did not make it seem easy. No, not with the long hours he’d pull or the days when he’d lash his frustrations on you. Some days, even seasons, happened to be more difficult than others but to have first hand experience all on your own is novel.

Akaashi moves in the day you guys arrive. The two week unofficial dry run makes the decision easy. He fills in the space that has been left behind, screens all the voicemails that you’d avoided when you were gone, and confirms that you are officially jobless by looking through your emails too.

What is better than one jobless, mid-twenty travesty who is one milligram of caffeine away from a breakdown? Two jobless, mid-twenty travesties who are one milligram of caffeine away from a breakdown. It’s a support system, hardly structural but functional enough.

It includes a lot of spontaneous frenzies, you and Akaashi both. He teaches you to be quite efficient with your distress. A prolonged yell helps relieve the pressure and it compels the other to join. You teach him the benefits of isolation. Sometimes, it’s simply best to take some space, to cast away the burdens for a night and relearn how to breathe.

It takes a year and a half to open the restaurant with the help of Onigiri Miya’s neighbors. Their support does not come without payment though. They ask questions you’re unprepared for and no response is ever safe. If you say you are fine, you’re scrutinized with a watchful eye, just waiting for proof of a lie. If you admit that you’re struggling, there’s pity. Some are more vocal about it than others, a patronization in their tone that never used to be there before.

The price may be steep, but it’s worth it because Hyogo ward was Osamu’s community. They carry the pieces of Osamu that you know, the ones that made the alleycats fat.

(Osamu frequently gets yelled at by the Shizuku, the florist, three doors down. She blames him for the rising cat population. Osamu laughs it off. He always did and frequently, there is a cheeky quip that follows. He says something about catnip.

Something like, “ya sure ya ain’t the one growing catnip in there?”

It taunts the woman even further, but malice never burns their interactions.

A grudge on Osamu, though easy to promise, is impossible to uphold. Not when he delivers a bouquet of onigiri right to her door the next day. Not when he accidentally tips a pot over while obnoxiously perusing through the abundance of greenery, hoping to find catnip within the collection. Not when he looks at her sheepishly, swiping his hands on his apron as if dusting away any evidence and says, “now how did that happen?”)

Shizuku’s a savior, by the way. If left to your own devices, Akaashi and you would work yourselves to the point of exhaustion but Shizuku comes in during lunch and always provides tea in plastic cups. Eventually those cups turn into a beautiful ceramic set when Kita drops off your first order of rice, a visit in disguise.

His barley eyes that were always warm to you darken at the sight of Akaashi. Their greeting is stiff which you thought just had to do with their taciturn personalities but it wasn’t until Kita pulled you into the alleyway, Akaashi left to finish painting the front, did you realize it was out of protectiveness.

“I was glad to hear from ya.” Kita leans against the waist high wall that separates two lines of shopping streets. “But I didn’t know how to feel when I found out ya were calling me about business.”

“I know,” you say, eyes cast down low. Kita has a way of making you feel guilty with so little words. He’s disappointed, you know despite his level tone, because you never called. What was there to discuss? You figured if Osamu could forget you, if Atsumu can cast you away, then there was nothing to expect out of his friends either.

“I won’t say anything because I know ya already feel bad but Gran and I were worried about ya. It’s good to know that you’re okay.”

You shrug. Okay is hardly what you’d describe yourself when you’re barely hanging on just like the threadbare sheets from the studio in Okinawa.

Kita crosses one muddy boot over the other, “and what ya got going on here, it feels like the right thing.”

It’s hard to make of what you feel, decipher the feelings that manifest inside because the days have not gotten any softer. The pain is ambiguous and persisting. Whenever you feel like you’ve made progress, another strain emerges like a new variant of the same virus. You’re doing this for Osamu. But Osamu…

“Have you talked to him lately?”

Kita’s lips line into a solemn expression. He stares you right in the eye and you hold yourself strong because you know he’s testing whether or not you can handle his answer.

“Not recently. Atsumu’s kept their distance from here. If I do see them, it’s when I stop by Osaka.”

“And…”

“And he’s good. He plans on going pro,” Kita shakes his head, “or Atsumu says, going back to pro. He tells him he took a break.”

You nod slowly. So that’s what you were. A break.

“But it ain’t him.”

The farmer’s voice is barely above a whisper and for some reason, it is gut wrenching. You have to lean against the wall with him in case you topple over. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it, the admittance that the Osamu you had was someone real. And maybe that’s why you’ll never be okay because you’re chasing after validation that has already been erased while he chases other things, of dreams unfulfilled.

“This,” Kita points to the restaurant in renovation, “this is him, but…”

He never finishes his sentence. The irony of it makes you laugh.

“Well I’ve got another delivery to drop but don’t be a stranger now. I’m serious. I ain’t letting ya. And visit Gran once in a while, will ya? She needs someone to talk to because I think she’s about had it with me.”

Kita hugs you goodbye and by the end of his visit, you think Akaashi’s gained his approval. When he leaves, he gifts the two of you the tea set. They are black with white and brown intricacies. Two of them have geometric blocking designs and the other two have one lone stalk of rice, bent gracefully by the wind.

Akaashi and you sign up for onigiri making courses where you eat them for every meal. So much so that even Akaashi of all people gets tired of it. The craft does not come easy to either of you despite your business partner’s penchant for it and Osamu’s intermittent lessons over the years. When you did help him out on the days he was short-staffed, Osamu would have you ring up customers up front, smoothly mentioning how your pretty face would help them rack up tips when you knew it was just to keep you out of the kitchen.

(He flusters you with a wink and an encouraging tap on the ass, laughing when you look back. He flings his glove into the trash can and makes his way to the handwashing station, thinking it was worth it just to see your cute pout. You know he’d wasted boxes of gloves since you’d been together just for one quick touch. Your eyes would be enraptured by the graceful jerks of his chest and the curl of his lips and later, at close, when the two of you were finally alone, he teases you about it. He asks you if you were hungry, what with the way you devoured him with your eyes. You bite his arm just to prove how hungry you were.)

“Quit drinking the mirin. That is foul and we need it.” He hides little revulsion in both tone and expression but your time with Akaashi has you immune to his harsh delivery.

You take another swig out of spite even if you didn’t plan on having another sip. It is, in fact, foul.

“This is the only thing that has alcohol in this apartment.”

Akaashi snatches the bottle with starchy hands. The residue imprints the shape of his palm onto the neck of the bottle, furthering his irritation. “Then drink something that does not have alcohol.”

“No,” you slump with your chin on the table, leveling your gaze with the practice oblongs you’ve just made. “I am sad.”

They’re lumpy and if they’re not lumpy, they are mushy. If they are not mushy, then the filling is peeking out. All in all, completely imperfect and not suited for a restaurant succeeding Onigiri Miya. Just the image of his disappointment discourages you because these were not up to his standards and certainly not to yours.

“We just need more practice,” Akaashi tries to console. “Maybe we could buy molds.”

“He didn’t use molds.”

“Unfortunate. We’re not Myaa-sam.”

“Neither is he.”

Akaashi doesn’t respond. You don’t say anything more either. If anyone is tired of your deploring, it is him and he already has to handle you enough. But it’s true, isn’t it? No one is Osamu anymore, not even the one out there who is probably doing practice sets in a gym, who wears a uniform that’s less than five years old, who has no recollection of you.

“Everyone’s going to be disappointed because it tastes nothing like the ones he used to make. They’re going to hate us for even disgracing his name.”

Akaashi’s had enough. He drops his practice roll, the heavy weight of the thud clattering the utensils on the table. You’re about to reprimand him but the man talks over you.

“Do you think that’s why people will come? Because of Osamu?”

The answer seems obvious that you can only gesticulate.

“Are you inane?”

That hasn’t been a word of the day so you haven’t learned that one yet but you can take a guess what the right answer is. “No?”

“People want to come and support you. Everyone knows Osamu’s gone off elsewhere doing whatever he is doing now. You’re the one honoring his memory. You’re the one keeping him alive. You are the reason they’d walk through our door now so get your act up.”

You glower like a child, unsure how exactly you feel. That sort of pressure seems daunting but comforting at the same time. You want to do him right. Is it really better than not even honoring him at all?

“You’re mean,” you settle on saying.

Akaashi clicks his tongue behind his teeth, “do you want to scream about it?”

You smile, “yeah.”

His mood lightens, “me too.”

“Okay, but it’s late already so we should probably scream in some pillows.”

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

The journey continues like that. Ups and downs. Ebbs and flows. Akaashi handles operations and finances. Your first job at the local government helps you complete the clerical stuff like having the proper documentation and paperworks. Your most recent job in IT helps you develop the website while Akaashi words out the marketing. You set up all the socials, design the uniforms, and the last step is to decide on the name.

The night before the opening, you have a dinner for everyone that helped as a thank you and soft launch. You and Akaashi slide in and out of service with Shizuku, Kita, Gran, and some of Akaashi’s friends like Konoha and Kuroo and Kenma as guests. It’s a small gathering of every single member of the community that never forgot about Osamu sitting around a massive table you’ve made by pushing the smaller ones together.

“Lovely what ya did with the rice, here,” Gran says beside you, a seat she had claimed.

You tilt your head to the side, “that’s all Akaashi.”

“Fine cooking, dear.”

“I followed a good recipe and had a little luck.”

“Ya better hope not,” Kita laughs and it’s comforting to hear the quiet trickle of his humor knowing fully well that Akaashi’s been accepted into the family. “Or else ya gonna have some unhappy customers.”

“Will ya tell us now what the name of the place is? Hard to advertise if I don’t know what it’s called,” Shizuku demands.

Her impatience started when she walked right through the door, but you wanted to wait for the right time when everyone was already gathered together and broken bread, heart happy and stomach satisfied. It’s how Osamu would have wanted it. It’s how you do too.

“Fine,” you say, dragging the word out with little bite in your tone.

You pull out the uniforms you’ll be wearing tomorrow. It looks not much different from what Osamu used to wear, plain black shirts with lettering on the upper left portion of the chest. Everyone lifts up from their seats to witness it.

o.mo.ide

Miya Osamu, Onigiri Miya, memories that you’ll always keep close to your heart.

There’s tears that escape, from you no different. There’s more that follows when you show them the corner right by the entrance dedicated to Onigiri Miya. You want everyone to know whose walls these actually belong to, whose essence and soul brought his dreams and yours to life, that without him, this would have never been possible.

Kita helps you kick everyone out knowing that you and Akaashi have a long day ahead. People promise to visit tomorrow just to show their support as they bid you goodbye. Gran slips an envelope of cash between your hands and quickly loops her arms around Kita’s so you can’t make a scene.

Akaashi is quick to have a foot out the alley back door after cleanup. He nods his head out, “are you ready?”

“Yes.” You run your hands through the crisp fabric once more as you shuffle your bag over your shoulder.

And the two of you leave. The black apron on the last hook closest to the back alley door waves as the door slams shut. There’s a black cap above it with the original character snaps against the wall from the wind pressure. They sway in the dark, until finally they lose momentum and settle in the dark.

They stay. They always will.

The support is so overwhelmingly kind. People show up in droves that Kita has to come in later in the day with an emergency delivery because your forecasts had been so off. Compliments come one after the other, of the design of the store, the food, and even yours and Akaashi’s service. Cheery employees were no longer in, it seemed. Everyone loved the stress-ridden ones instead. More relatable, they’d explain.

The novelty slowly wears off, but you maintain a generous rotation of regulars. Of course, Shizuku always arrives. She retains her habit of having afternoon tea with you and Akaashi. She’d bring along Hayashi, the man who owned the ice cream shop behind your store. He’s a grizzly man with a barrel chest with a right bicep so plump from years of scooping ice cream. The two are the neighborhood’s newest gossip. Flowers and ice cream. Looks like they do go together.

And you think that you have finally have this life handled. You and Akaashi settle on this pleasant routine of wake, work, and rest and the mundanity has you fooled. Still, after all this time, it takes so little to disrupt your small ecosystem of peace.

You hear someone compare o.mo.ide as a mockery of what it used to be and it sends you into a spiral. You listen with a crazed expression, hands busy scrubbing tables but ears listening like a hawk.

Osmau never needed consolation like this. He had been a master of quick glances. He was always multitasking, mind on the next task as he was still in the process of finishing the first. And his eyes never missed anything, not when you’d try and sneak into his office unnoticed to surprise him for break or how he’d always know when someone was taking their first bite. He’d watch from the corner of his eyes and he’d wait for that precious moment. It didn’t take much to make Osamu proud. Just a single hum. He’d beam from ear to ear, and as if shy from his sudden display of emotion, he’d tuck his chin into his head and pull the brim of his cap down.

But then again, this was his forte and not yours.

You start sleeping in and waking up late. You lose the habit and Akaashi has to pick up after you. In order to make it up to him, you offer to close the restaurant on your own. His response is a simple scan to check that you’re okay, but he has little energy to say a word, probably expended it screaming in the walk-in freezer when he couldn’t get you out of bed. So he goes.

You don’t even wait a full five minutes after he left to lock the doors and ignore any knocks from customers who know your regular hours.

In the silent kitchen, you situate yourself atop the recently wiped down stainless prep table, a bottle of sake in one hand and Kita’s teacup in another. A shot glass is much too small for your preferences.

“Cheers,” you raise your glass in the air. This might be your sixth one, so just the image of your hand and solo teacup is enough to make you giggle. “This one is to…”

Your gaze is glassy and there’s no one here, but the alcohol reminds you that you’re not lonely. An image of Osamu appears before you like an apparition and the sight brings on a void of yearning. You throw back the shot and quickly pour yourself another.

“To you.” This time you clink the tea cup against the bottle, already hollow in just one sitting. When the burn dies down and settles in the pit of your stomach, you begin to kick your feet.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Haven’t spoken to you in a while. Think about you every day though.”

It’s weird because you thought that with this place being saturated by Osamu’s very essence, you’d find his face everywhere you look. He’s more of an idea now, lately. A feeling you carry, memories that you play before you go to sleep. It’s difficult to accept because it feels like you’re losing him. The old Osamu, the one you knew, the one you loved. The other one in Osaka, Kita’s accidentally slipped that he likes to read as a pastime and that they’d recently visited Panama. Osamu never bought books unless they were cookbooks and that was more for aesthetic than anything. And the one you knew had never been to Panama, more so even mentioned it at all.

What you have left is the remains of his legacy and the bare bones of a former flame. You crack open another bottle. Here’s another shot to that.

“Life sucks by the way. I don’t blame you for it. I just wanted you to know. This wasn’t my dream. Yeah, I can hear you. You know, you know. But I haven’t told you in a while so you’re going to hear me say it again. I just wanted a cushy, IT job. I’d be your sugar mommy and force you on vacations, pay you for any lost wages. Any reason to have you all to myself. That’s what was supposed to happen.”

Another shot to missed opportunities. That one has you feeling woozy that you have to lay on your side but your drunken mind fails to realize how cold the stainless steel would be against your cheeks. It makes you squeal and then you can’t help but giggle, laughing at your own stupidity. That’s what’s nice about inebriation. Instead of being so serious about yourself, you can just laugh.

“And in the middle of it all, I knew that one day, I’d get absorbed into it. That’s just what you do. You say Atsumu is charismatic, but I don’t think you ever realized the power you had in just being. People get caught up in it and that includes me. And I imagined myself working hard so I could leave early from work just so I could help you in the kitchen. And then working part time until eventually, we woke up together and ran it together and did it all. Together. As a family. Ma would help when she has the time but you know her. She’s got clubs and activities and neighborhood responsibilities. And Atsumu would try and hang out but not do any work so we’d just ignore him until he ended up whining his way into the kitchen. I didn’t imagine…”

You look around the backroom. It’s nothing like how Onigiri Miya used to look. There are some items you’ve inherited like the pots and pans with their grease-stricken bellies and the three step ladder with The Little Giant (Akaashi actually wanted to throw this one away but ladders are surprisingly expensive) labeled on the top step. Everything is paltry pickings compared to the care Osamu had when working with his suppliers. It was hard enough with Kita’s endorsement to find something within your budget so you’re left with limp greens and off brand soy. And no Osamu.

Time for another shot. Should you make a game of it? Every time you thought you felt sorry for yourself, should you?

“No,” you giggle as you get up, answering your own question, “then I’d get really drunk and you’d get mad at me for that. Anyways,” you shoot it, neck craning back so swift it makes you dizzy. Your body bends wilted just like the spring onions you were talking about and you have to close your eyes, groaning and giggling, unable to discern discomfort from pleasure.

“Mmmm, what was I saying? I don’t know.” Suddenly, you’re crying. There’s a mess on the prep table that you have no idea how to clean. Over a year now and you’re still not over Osamu and you’re missing the rest of the Miyas especially too.

“This is so hard and fuck, I feel so alone.” It’s heartbreaking to hear how much you pity yourself when there have been so many people in your life that have supported you. Like Akaashi who has dealt with your disaster tendencies and Shizuku and the neighbors and everyone that has made this possible.

But they can’t fill what you’ve secretly been trying to reclaim. Of a family that had loved you, had accepted you with open arms. The ones who held you when you needed them most but… Fuck. You just weren’t enough. You lacked the strength to hold their pain, so much so just by being, by existing, you burdened them.

And maybe this had been a ploy to simply gain approval and find some self-worth again, to show them that the love you have has value. It had been distracting enough while you and Akaashi prepared for the grand opening but only for so long until you fell into this sort of misery again. How long would the next pocket of happiness last? Could you find a stable source of bliss ever again?

Sometimes, as difficult as it is to think, you wish you never…

No, you shake your head adamantly. For all this anguish, for all the ache you’ve accidentally caused the Miyas, you want to selfishly keep all the memories, even if Osamu has to forget, even if you know how it ends. You don’t want to change a thing.

You grab the extra aprons in the back except for the black apron on the last hook closest to the back alley door and slump into the office chair in the back nook. It was a simple office with just a desk and a file folder cabinet. You cover yourself with the aprons, your impromptu blankets as you wait for the inebriation to tide over. The open sake bottle stays on the prep table with the finished one and your used tea cup and you make a mental note to hide your drinking from Akaashi who’s been passively limiting your intake lately.

You fall into a light sleep when a meowing out the alley door rouses you. The office chair snaps as you ungracefully rise. There’s remnants of your misery in the form of crusts at the corner of your eyes that you blearily wipe away.

He stares up at you with a single meow as a greeting when you open the door. The cat sits on his paws like a well mannered customer waiting to be let in. A gray puffball like a ball of lint straight from the dryer, his gold eyes blink up at you and maybe it’s the hour or your halfway sober state or just life in general because you think it’s a sign.

Many of the cats had left when Osamu did too, venturing into more fruitful alleyways that can get them the fixings that they. You’re quick to pick him up but you do it a little aggressively that his limber body bends to evade your hands. Instead, he enters o.mo.ide and you’re able to lure him in with a few slices of fish.

Akaashi is not amused when you get home, especially considering the late hour and cat in your hands.

“No,” Akaashi greets, eyes hardened, aimed at the feline creature who has taken to resting his chin into the crook of your elbow.

“But, Akaashi, look at him!” You turn your body to the side so he can witness his complete cuteness.

The man is not impressed, only closing his book, an index finger marking the pages he left off, and crossing his arms. “No. You can hardly take care of yourself.”

“But they’re low maintenance,” you mention the fact you had quickly googled before unlocking the front door, “and he was crying outside our door because he was so hungry.”

Your roommate weighs the cat with his eyes and before he can complete his calculations, you add, “if I wasn’t there, he would have starved. He needed me.”

Akaashi finds something in your expression and you think it’s this new energy, this purpose outside of yourself or Osamu and after a drawn out glare, he finally sighs. It’s a world weary sigh, the kinds only parents of rowdy and impossible children should only make and you take note that you’ll make it up to him somehow.

“Okay, fine,” he extends his hand for your new friend to sniff, “what’s his name?”

You smile, “Mumu.”

An homage to your boys, your favorite twins, and Akaashi cannot help but sigh again.

But Mumu quickly becomes your new best friend, much to his benefit. Even though Mumu never quite opens up to him, he has to worry about you less and you spend more of your time laboring efficiently at work so you can go home and play with silly things like lasers and a little rattle ball he likes to roll around. There’s energy to do your share of household chores now, and despite the slow trickle of business lately, you’re unbothered.

At the end of the day, the success of the business does not define you or your love for Osamu.

The stability lasts only for a few months because you arrive home unannounced, closing the shop early when the pelting monsoon keeps people locked in their homes.

You opted to take responsibility for the day, allowing Akaashi a break. His trust in you has slowly renewed considering it’d been a while since you dipped into the restaurant’s liquor stash. You knew he’d understand the shortened hours considering the weather but he hadn’t been prepared because when he got home, he was watching a livestream MSBY volleyball match. There was this understanding that had been established when he moved in because the both of you knew that you’d be powerless to the demise.

When you see Osamu on TV, that split second the camera had panned to him, you felt gravity warp. Your heart constricted and condensed while it felt like that floor beneath you had slipped away and you were just as helpless as any other leaf victim to the storm.

Akaashi tries to turn off the TV, but you manically topple over him, not wanting to miss what little camera time he might have.

“I don’t think this is good for you,” Akaashi’s eyes doesn’t leave you as you continue to watch the game. You agree, but you can’t strip your eyes away from the stream. You can’t believe what you’re seeing and you have to continuously wipe away your tears just to be sure, to ascertain that what you’re viewing is really true. It’s him. It’s him and this is the closest you’ve seen him, the closest he’s been to this home in basically two years and he looks so different.

“He grew out his hair,” you observe.

All you can do right now is play spot the difference. What parts of him do you still know? What is gone forever? Osamu’s hair is near shoulder length and you think he might have gained Atsumu’s salon habit because it’s curlier and fluffier than you knew. The color in his eyes have lost their luster, making them appear darker like a smoky quartz and he’s bigger. He’d always had a stronger upper body but you can tell he’s far more defined than you’d last seen him. He looks. Good.

You feel so small knowing how well he’s moved on without you. There’s always this small spark of hope that can’t help yourself from holding onto but seeing him on the screen, living a dream that he had once left behind, you figure it must be your turn to be abandoned for something else.

“He looks good,” you nod, trying to be strong. Because that’s all you’ve wanted. You’ve wanted him to be ok, to live out the life he desired, whatever that may be and regardless of how it involved you. “He looks good. I’m so–”

“You don’t–”

“–proud of him.”

The admittance makes you burst, diving head first onto the floor and crying into the rug. Mumu comes to rest between your legs, wary of Akaashi as he does his best to console you which alternates between a hand down your back and simply hovering over your figure.

But then you hear the announcer and how the music stops, and immediately your head lifts up because you know what the sound of those footsteps mean.

Miya Atsumu is on court, serving the ball with just as much assured confidence as you had left him. He passes to his brother where they easily make a point and you watch the two boys celebrate. The camera eats it up, their facial expressions, the way they hold each other in a solidified joy, and you see it. You see the true reason he’s left this all behind. This was the life he was meant to share.

And you were never meant to be a part of it.

It was delusional of you to think that their bond had enough space for you to fit in.

Of course, as much as you tell yourself Osamu’s happiness is the most important thing to witness, it still sends you on a spiral that neither Akaashi or Mumu can bring you out of. Business slows down when you can’t provide proper service and Akaashi struggles to pick up the labor you can’t complete. Days pass in a haze where you burn things by accident and your mindlessness has you putting in two servings of soy instead.

You wallow in your sheets, so worn that the Osamu’s essence has filtered through the gaps and all that’s saturated it is your misery. Mumu leisurely snoozes beside you, happy to keep you company.

Akaashi tries to persuade you out of bed with ice cream.

You shuffle to the side of the bed pressed against the wall and tuck yourself into the crevice, “no thank you.”

He ignores you and opens the door and you whine, noisy and petulant. “This one is from Shizuku and Hayashi. They’ve missed you.”

You instantly sit up, interested because Hayashi’s ice cream had been a favorite of Osamu’s. Whenever he’d have a bad day and their schedules lined up, the two men with their solid stature would gossip in the alleyway, the brick wall separating them. One would be devouring an onigiri while the other relished the fox shaped ice cream he’d always be given as payment.

You’d peek your head out the alley door whenever you could never find Osamu in the kitchen or in his office. The alley was the only other place he’d be and Hayashi would prompt you to come out, sit and gossip with them. He’d leave so he could serve you an ice cream of your own, but you suspect he’d take longer on purpose so that you two could spend some time alone.

(“Have you heard about Shizuku and Hayashi?” Osamu asks once the confectioner steps back into his building. Your response comes for the back of your throat, a soft hum while busy licking the dessert your boyfriend offered. He laughs when he sees you nibble off the candy eye of the animal, leaving him a little lopsided but far more endearing. “Damn, I said ya could give it a try, not eat all of it.”

“I was hungry and you weren’t inside.”

“Ya could have made yaself some food. I’ve taught you enough to be self-sufficient.”

You shake your head immediately, “doesn’t taste the same. Stop changing the subject. What’s going on with Hayashi and Shizuku?”

Despite all the time you’ve spent with him, all the different faces and expressions you’ve been gifted to witness, his smile still disarms you. It’s the right combination of conniving and whimsy that has your heart traipsing the edge of a cliff.

“I was talking to the Grandma that’s got the okonomiyaki shop right there, ya know?” He points with his ice cream whose lifespan is slowly disappearing, “and she told me how she went into Hayashi’s shop and he had a full bouquet of flowers.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I wonder who got it for him.”

Osamu snorts, “Shizuku obviously. Who else would have?”

“Osamu,” you give him a discriminatory look, “are you starting rumors.”

“No, hear me out. Shizuku came by yesterday and was asking me for some cooking tips.”

“You?”

“Yeah, we have a truce right now. The onigiri won her over.” You giggle, snatching another bite from Osamu’s hand. He’s too busy telling his story to even admonish you. “And she was telling me she planned on making grilled mackerel and guess what Hayashi had for dinner last night apparently.”

You hum forcibly, drawing it out and giggle when Osamu gets irritated with you. “Mackerel?” He nods and the image of those two makes you laugh.

Hayashi’s just like the ice cream he serves, a man who longs for the richer things in life. He has women swooning out of his restaurant with his velvet words and Shizuku is a woman who knows what she wants, spritely and tough. She’d be perfect to keep him in line.

“Now that I think about it, they’re surprisingly good for each other.”

Osamu agrees, “Grandma says Hayashi needs to lock it in and get married.”

“Shizuku’s a catch! He’d be wrong not to.”

Your statement dulls the mood because Osamu turns quiet. He hands you his ice cream for you to finish, Hayashi forgotten, and his hands clasp together, right pad of his thumb running over the back of his left. His side profile is soft, round cheeks over a strong jaw.

“Ya know that I–”

“We don’t have to get married for me to know that you love me,” you say quickly. You don’t want him to finish the thought because he gets caught up in the guilt a lot. You’re not certain what it exactly is aside from the fact that he doesn’t want your future to be tied down to one as unstable as his, as if marriage would be the only thing that could permanently hold the two of you together. As far as you know, he’s all you want for the rest of your life and Osamu makes you feel like he thinks the same.

Your admittance relieves the weight on his back. He straightens up, a thankful expression on his gaze when he rolls an arm out to wrap around you. You fit right into the crook of his body, pleasantly warm with your ice cream.

“I love ya, I really do.” You nod. “One day, when I get my shit together, I promise I’ll make ya mine for real.”

He says it like you’re not his already. He says it like this relationship is less than the ones acknowledged by law or the gods or whoever presides over the validity of unity.

He says it like he really does love you.)

Thinking about it makes you cry despite Hayashi’s ice cream. He artfully crafted the gift in a pint that he must have bought from the store because you’ve never seen him sell take-home products. A frog decorates the surface complete with blush, large, round eyes, and the brightest of smiles. Usually the confectionery is an immediate remedy but it looks like your sorrows have fallen so deep that its effects are hardly uplifting. Akaashi hands you a letter made of cardstock in a saturated red and shaped like a heart.

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” is all he replies.

You do as he says and find a poorly drawn replication of what you assume is you, serving a triangular item to a smaller stick figure human.

“That’s from Asako. She missed you when you left early today.”

Asako is the little girl who orders a plain onigiri with extra sesame seeds. Exxxxtrraaaa she likes to say and you entertain her, seeing who can lengthen the word the longest. It’s an effortless game that comes with a high reward of giggles. She comes in on Fridays when her grandparents pick her up from school. They didn’t know of Onigiri Miya then so you never thought much of them, but clearly, she had thought of you.

“I understand that we opened up o.mo.ide in order to commemorate Myaa-sam and everything he’d done for this community, but have you ever stopped and thought that in the process, you’ve integrated into it yourself?”

You hadn’t. You’d been so deeply absorbed by your own troubles that you had never bothered to even look outside of yourself or Osamu.

“We’re operating at a loss right now, but there are people like Asako that rely on us to stay open. And so help me, I need you too. We promised to do this together and I refuse to let you abandon me.”

“Oh… oh, Akaashi, I’m so–” you’re forced speechless by your own guilt.

“Don’t apologize. Just.” Akaashi searches through his vocabulary, “just get better. Have you ever thought about therapy?”

Akaashi introduces you to his therapist but after two sessions, you find that the way he gels his hair back and the nasal hums he provides every time you confide in him is unsettling. The journey through therapy is not so much a journey but more like an illegal obstacle course formed with bottomless pits and thorny vines and a portable bed.

It’s physically draining and mentally exhausting that you need a nap most days. Akaashi hardly yells at you anymore when you fall asleep in the office chair while on break as long as he knows you have an appointment scheduled at the end of the week.

You go through three more therapists. This fourth one, she’s on thin ice, but you’re five months in and she’s managed to get you to stay. She encourages you to reach out to the people you love on your own and to make time for them every week.

Now you spend time teaching Mumu new tricks. He’s mastered the command ‘sit’ and is also very good at laying down. You’ve yet to teach him much else though. Monday mornings are for mahjong with Granny. Sweet as she is, that woman is a good liar and to this day, you still haven’t won a game. According to Kita, no one has yet to beat her. You’ve extended tea dates with Shizuku into dinners after you and Akaashi close. Most of the time Hayashi is there and despite Akaashi’s indifference to their relationship, every night you gossip about the way his hands would linger around her waist or how he’d whisper something in her ear while they washed dishes. When Asako visits, you untie your apron and give her grandparents a break. Only when she is done with her meal, you walk her into the back where you tell her to mind her step and you and lift her over the wall so she can knock on Hayashi’s back door for an ice cream.

People gradually enter your lives, ones that you didn’t have courage to see. With a warning text sent like an afterthought, it’s a welcome surprise to find Bokuto seated on top of your kitchen table, towering height even more pronounced, while Akaashi showcased his skill in a new apron.

“Oh?” you say and at the sight of Akaashi’s expression, all you do is smile and wish them a good time. If there is a time that Akaashi shouldn’t be burdened by you, it would be now. You are in the process of healing after all.

Suna and Aran eventually visit, dragged along by Kita. His small build compared to the two athletes make an awkward remeet amusing.

Suna scruffles your head and cups the fat of your cheeks as a greeting, “hey, Bug. Nothing kills you, huh?”

You’re grateful when Aran saves you, pulling you into a deep hug that soothes your soul. He lifts you up once just to hold you closer, and when he’s done, they all apologize for not visiting you sooner. It was shame, they admitted. Because for Osamu, they were willing to do anything to make him feel better, even if it was to perpetuate lies.

You’re at a space now where you understand because for Osamu, you know you would and will do anything for him too. No one talks about him though. No one dares mention any Miya first, and finally, you’re not compelled to bring them up either.

Of course, it’s just as tumultuous of a ride, even more so now that you’re more aware of your issues. Some days, the social vigor of running a restaurant is so draining that all you can do is keep your head down in the back. Count inventory and roll orders whenever Akaashi places them in. Sometimes it’s even harder than that, where you end up at the convenience store with one bottle of sake. Usually the guilt hits you half a bottle in and you end up pouring the rest over the nearest drain. This time, halfway isn’t nearly enough to ease the pain.

With the amount of volleyball players that have re-entered your life, an old interview of Osamu’s is in your recommended videos to watch. You can’t not click it when the thumbnail is a closeup top angle of his face, long hair pulled into a messy bun.

He stands the same with hands on his hips and in a wide stance but even the way he speaks sounds different. Same voice, different person. Different words.

The comments prove that he has a lot of fans from all over the world. They shout words of affection, recount the best games they’ve witnessed him in and no one mentions a single word about Onigiri Miya.

You’re at a point in your life now that any sort of Osamu brings on a general longing. You miss him so much you’re willing to take whatever you can have.

The realization makes you feel like you’ve lost him again because this place, the venue where you labor yourself until your back is broken despite your lack of knowledge had been a huge part of him. Now it is all lost to his pro volleyball glamor.

Onigiri Miya Osamu will eventually fade from existence. Once more, you begin grieving.

Despite your coping methods, it takes a long time to build yourself out of your rut. The gloom lasts for days and life has a predilection for stacking up your misery.

“Miya–”

Akaashi doesn’t have to finish his sentence. The impact already hits your stomach at the surname. It doesn’t matter which Miya it is. A Miya has stepped foot into this building, the first time since the fire. Suspense boils in your gut and its noxious fumes cut the breath from your lungs.

You’ve thought about this moment in great lengths, anxiously in bed or idle thoughts as you wait for the train. Preparation has never been your strong suit though. The fact is clear with the condition of your restaurant that struggles to even get by.

Blonde hair glistens against the backdrop of an afternoon sun and distracts you from the bells that ring when he opens the door. He glances around the walls with his mouth agape, focusing mostly on the origin story next to the host stand. It’s just a few old newspaper clippings of articles and one image of Osamu’s face. It was one of your few stipulations. He must always be there to greet the customers.

When Atsumu’s gaze finally finds yours, you can’t help but grip the towel tighter in your hands. Misplaced anger simmers right behind your tightly pursed lips. His face is so similar. It’s the closest anyone could get to a clone, and the distinct features you’ve been searching for, the ones that belong to the Osamu you once knew, are not there.

It’s a lot. It’s been a bad couple of weeks.

But Atsumu doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know that you’ve worked yourself raw and instead of building calluses, all you've done is made yourself tender.

He passes the backline and you find yourself taking a step back towards the display case as he crosses your first line of defense. He acts like nothing’s changed, that he’s still got free reign of the place and maybe it hasn’t. When he pulls you in, when he mutters ‘I love ya’ and ‘I’m so sorry’ over and over again, you fall apart in his arms.

You fist his shirt at the chest and sob in a way you haven’t allowed yourself since the hospital, since you’d seen any of the Miyas last. You cry into his chest, condense the past years you’ve had to make do with just your hands or sleeves or pillows. There’s rage and pity, but most of all, there is relief. Because as much as Akaashi has sat beside you while you mourned, and how everyone had gathered to remind you of your worth, they could never fill the space that any Miya left behind. None of them understood what it was like to lose Osamu. Not Myaa-sam, or Chef, or Oji-Samu. Youhad borne that misery alone.

You can’t fault Osamu for not choosing you. And Mama Miya has tried reaching out despite your lack of response.

But Atsumu, he could have stayed. You thought there was kinship there, a shared love for his brother. You thought you could have shared the sorrow too. Instead, he’d whisked away his family to Osaka to escape any reminder of the previous life he lived. He took everything and he left you behind.

Atsumu follows you to the ground when you literally fall apart in his arms. He hugs you tighter and he ignores the stack of napkins shelved right next to you, knowing that his shirt is more than enough.

Atsumu is eventually able to get you to a park near the restaurant once you calmed down. You both lay next to each other on the grass and the sun’s power is too strong for your swollen eyes. You have to balance your water bottle over them as shade. Atsumu offers the sunglasses he likes to keep clipped to the collar of his shirt. You accept it cautiously, wary of taking too much.

“I’m sorry.”

His apology is overwhelming and the corners of your eyes overflow, unprepared.

“Don’t,” you sputter out when you have the breath, a sting clinging to the bridge of your nose, “don’t. I can’t take it. Say something else.”

“I–” the way he blunders means he must have prepared a speech and now you’ve thrown a wrench in his plans. “I… uh. It’s good to see ya.”

“Oh, gods. Why are you even here?”

“I wanted to see ya,” he answers lamely.

There’s still anger in your chest and for the past couple of years, you’d been aiming that ire at Akaashi unjustly. Atsumu’s expression from the day at the hospital still keeps you up sometimes and it’s taken months of therapy for you to realize that his emotions were also misplaced. You’d dealt with pieces of the guilt and there’s still a lot that you need to address, but you understand now, that the burden of being was never yours alone to bear.

“Now? When you’ve had all this time?”

“I know. I–” he stops himself from another apology. You’re grateful he’s grown the maturity to keep his mouth shut when asked. “I just wanted to prepare ya.”

“For what?”

“Samu went no contact on me.”

You rise to your elbows in shock, worry prickling prickling your heart, “and Ma?”

“Not Ma,” he shakes his head quickly. “He calls her sometimes, not enough, but more than me.”

“Why?”

Atsumu breathes deeply, worn and weary. He brings his arms back and rests his head on them, eyes up at the sky watching a kite flown by two children, probably siblings. “Why fucking not, ya know?”

“No, Atsumu, I wouldn’t know when you basically went no contact on me.”

Atsumu pinches his bottom lip between his front teeth. Through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, you can see the way they lighten from the pressure. He sighs again.

“I deserve this, I know. But Osamu didn’t. I fucked up but I had no clue what I was doing. Ya gotta understand. Ya were there and ya saw him and how beaten down he was and maybe I did put blame on everyone but myself. I hated Onigiri Miya for even getting him caught up in that sort of mess, and when his dreams lined up with mine, I figured it would be okay. We could leave it all behind. I tried to play God with my own brother’s life and he let me. Everyone did.”

“He listened to you?”

Atsumu shakes his head, “crazy, right? He was lost and unsure, but I was confident, ya know? I just felt so certain I was doing the right thing and I think that’s the only reason why he let himself be led all this way.”

“So what changed?”

“Are ya kidding?” Atsumu looks at you, and when he realizes you don’t have a clue, he turns to face you. “The answer is you.”

It’s a fucked up thing for Atsumu to say. The words erupt an ache in your chest. You curl into yourself, bring your knees up so that you flinch away from the pain but Atsumu grabs hold of both of your hands. He grips tightly in an attempt to siphon the pain.

“A love like yours ain’t something easy to forget.”

You remember the hospital, “that’s what Ma said.”

“It’s exactly what she told him when he left. I don’t know how he found out, but I saw that he looked up Onigiri Miya the day before he left and he’s been gone since. For about two weeks now, I think.”

“No,” you shake your head, closing your eyes to soften the blow of his words but even in the darkness, a stinging, buzzing pain wracks through your body. It’s everywhere all at once but Atsumu holds you through it.

“I love ya. I promise, I do. There wasn’t a day I didn’t regret what I did, but believe me when I tell ya. I do. I love ya,” He takes your hands that have been bunched up into fists and presses them onto the soft skin below his eyes where it’s sticky and wet. “And I’m so sorry I had to put ya through this and made ya go through this all alone, so if ya moved on, if ya got someone else, I understand and I’ll figure something out.”

You try to pull yourself from his grip but Atsumu holds onto you, head bent in repentance and the sincerity of it all spouts more tears.

“I’ll handle Osamu if that’s the case. I know Akaashi’s a really good guy so–”

You take your conjoined hands and jab him across the forehead. Atsumu sputters in shock, letting you go in the process while he tries to soothe the pain.

“Does it look like I’ve moved on, idiot?” You knock soft fists into his chest like a child. “Would I be crying in what I consider my own brother’s arms in a park if I moved on?”

“I just wanted–”

“And Akaashi? Fucking Akaashi? He’s a good guy,” you mock, irritated, “of course he is. Shut up. You know I’m in love with your brother.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Stop hitting me. I said I was sorry already.”

You make sure to put some extra force in that final punch, “you’re going to say it for the rest of your life.”

Atsumu nods gratefully, “of course.”

“And,” the words hurt coming out, “and don’t run off on me again.”

What makes the tears slip this time is forgiveness. Atsumu holds your hand against his chest where you can feel his heart. You’ve missed him, longed for him just as much as you have Osamu and slowly, you feel yourself start to heal.

“He might not need a brother right now, but I do.”

Atsumu kisses you on the cheek and pulls you close. He holds you in his arms with the same exact care he had for Osamu in the hospital, with the same protectiveness of an elder brother.

Finally, you feel understood.

Atsumu spends his off season in Hyogo where you find out Ma has moved back. Akaashi doesn’t take kindly to a change in routines, but he begins helping out where he can along with Ma.

When Ma first sees you, all she can do is hold you at arm’s length, picking her vernacular apart with words that she wanted to say. You just shake your head and let yourself be swallowed by her cardigan comfort. She encourages you to come to family dinner and you have to ask if Akaashi is invited too. She pats his cheek and says of course like the question was unnecessary to begin with.

The world shifts almost exactly the way you imagined it. Life has a funny way of doing that. Atsumu helps around the restaurant and Ma stops by with some of her friends after an activity. She meets Asako who she adores and is adored just as equally. Ma takes ice cream duty from you while Atsumu, because it’s his off season, likes to overstay his welcome at your apartment. Akaashi kicks him out and the athlete tries to use Mumu as an excuse. Mumu, unfortunately, likes Atsumu even less than Akaashi.

Sometimes Atsumu will try to broach the topic of contacting Osamu, something that both you and Ma are against. Osamu has been through enough, you both reason. And he’s probably had his fill of someone telling him what to do.

The restaurant fills and though you know that yours or Akaashi’s food cannot compare, the laughter spills out the doors from friends and family and neighbors that continuously visit. They manage when you accidentally don’t order enough fish, opting for broth and rice and when you run out of beverages, someone offers to run to the convenience store to buy drinks.

It’s not a perfect venue, but it embodies Osamu’s very being, a place that has become a home.

One day, Akaashi is out of town and Atsumu helps you while he’s gone. He’s not as focused as your usual business partner, whose eyes continuously drift out onto the streets and he even leaves early when you haven’t finished clearing up for the day.

“Alright, I gotta go but I’ll lock the door,” Atsumu runs off quickly. “Ya can handle this, right?”

You look at the stack of dishes and the ready to go items that haven’t been put away yet. It’s not much, but it would certainly be easier if he stayed. Unfortunately, his question is apparently rhetorical because the man does not wait for an answer. He reiterates his farewell and with a jingle, the door is shut.

“Okay,” you say, blinking at his figure that eventually passes a corner and disappears. You scan your surroundings, running a mental image of what would be the most efficient process. Wipe down the tables, you decide. Some haven’t been bussed yet so you head over with a fresh rag and empty tray.

Atsumu likes to turn up the music the moment the o.mo.ide closes as a way to decompress. You hum along. It’s a mindless process now that you’ve done it so many times. Clear the tables. Sanitize the tables. Sanitize the chair. Bend down eye level with the table and make sure you haven’t missed any crumbs. You’re not even thinking, just lost in the routine and it’s why the sound of the bell startles you.

It’s so like Atsumu to forget to lock the door. You compose yourself with a slow inhale and prepare for an irate customer who might argue at your innocent error, but the breath expels from your mouth.

You stand there stupidly, hands holding your chest like you’re about to dive backwards into water. It’s that feeling, where two characters catch eyes on a crowded street. Despite everything that has happened and all that separates you, he holds you captive. Your feet are planted to the ground and everything, heart, mind, body, and breath is under his power.

“O – Oh…”

Even saying his name feels foreign because as much as you’ve thought of him, you can’t remember when was the last time you did. It feels foreign on your tongue and you can’t blurt anything out but the first letter, and you witness his demeanor change.

“Osamu,” you say only because you think it’ll make him smile. It does and because of it, you want to fall down on your knees.

Everything, everything that you had observed different about him, his hair that looks like he’s cut but is still longer than you remember, the cut of his jaw that’s sharper, his brows that he’d boast about being strong look trimmed, and even his choice of clothes is different, opting for a sleeveless tee over his favored oversized shirts, all of that is negligent because seeing him once more, you recognize he is still your Osamu.

“Hi,” he greets and your heart flutters. Was this really how it felt when you were falling in love because everything he does brings upon a desire that you doubt could ever be quelled. “Are ya closed?”

“Yes,” you answer honestly and the wilt of his face makes you overcompensate, “but– but it’s fine! You’re come in… I mean, oh…”

This is so fucking embarrassing. “You’re always welcome. Come in and have a seat wherever you want.”

He points at a bar seat with a head tilt. You nod and make sure to lock the door behind him. The bus tub, the rag, you forego it all and pass the swinging door that separates the register and eating area. Your hands perspire at the stress of perfection. It’s a foreign thing for him to be seated while you serve him and maybe it’s you overthinking, but it feels like he’s watching your every move.

Osamu quickly diverts his gaze when you turn around. His not so subtle glancing of the venue, head craned back as he looks at the decorations on the walls and the lighting fixtures you and Akaashi picked, amuses you but you try not to show it too hard. Osamu seems shyer than you’re used to. That’s okay. You’re nervous too.

“Did you come hungry?”

“I did.”

Ease washes over you. Thank the gods, that has stayed the same.

You apologize for the lack of options and Osamu tries to downplay the inconvenience. “It’s okay. I didn’t… Well I did, but I didn’t really come here to eat.”

“No?”

Osamu plays with a stray grain of rice between his fingers. He rolls the sticky piece into a ball, back and forth as he thinks of what he wants to say.

“No, I… To be honest, I didn’t think I was going to go inside.”

“Oh.”

“But I…” then he stops his rolling and he looks at you, like really looks at you. And whatever it is, you feel it too. “But I just had to.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Yeah, well, it took me all up until closing to work up the courage.”

“That’s okay,” you tell him. You pull up the stool near the rear register and situate yourself across from him. The boundary that separates you two is familiar, 76 centimeters of space that you know by heart and it makes conversation flow smoother. “I’m happy you came at all. How was your day?”

“Shit.”

The answer takes you by surprise, him too by the way he stops chewing, lips puckering close together as he ruminates whether or not meant to say those words. But he owns them, and continues on.

“My smoothie spilled all over my cup holder.”

“Oh no. Did you ask for another one?”

“Pretty sure they tried to sabotage me by giving me a cracked cup.”

You break in the most unexpected way. A smile splits your lips and a giggle strikes through your chest. Everything feels so similar, so weightless. It feels like a dam has been broken with just a couple of words.

“It ain’t funny.”

You agree, “I know. It’s the worst.”

“Then why are ya laughing?”

“I don’t even know. It’s not funny at all.”

“It’s not. I had to stuff a bunch of napkins in there.”

“No, it’s going to get sticky!”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Cry.”

Osamu sputters, rice flying from his mouth. He’s embarrassed for only a millisecond, fearful of your reaction, but all it does is make you bend over, sincerely losing control of your body. Osamu joins you, laughing at who knows what, but you’re grateful. For as much pain misery brings, it takes so little for you to be happy.

“Fuck,” he says once he’s able to catch a breath. He says quietly with wonder and it has your giggles soften to match his energy. “I’ve imagined every way this meeting could go.”

Your heart constricts like it’s being pinched from the bottom. “Is it everything you thought it’d be?”

“No,” Osamu shakes his head genuinely. You almost apologize. “I thought I’d mess it all up but,” he looks at you and it’s the gaze you had been searching when he had first woken up all those years ago. A quiet ardor, soft around the edges but saturated in passion, “but I didn’t expect it to be so easy.”

“Stop,” you have to hide your lips.

Osamu doesn’t understand, back straightening, “what?”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Saying those things.”

His lips pucker themselves out, “why can’t I?”

“Because,” you blink furiously, willing the tears away because you want to remember this with clarity, “you’re making me too happy.”

He grins too, but it’s still shy as he bends his head down, nodding slightly as he does, “how do ya think I feel?”

There’s a calmness that settles now that your mania has subsided. Your eyes appraise, trying to find more topics to talk about so he can stay just a little longer.

“Are those cigarettes?” you observe the square box in his breast pocket.

He nods as he pulls them out, holding them in his hands as if they were novel.

“Are you smoking a lot?”

He looks at you curiously, “did I used to?”

The past tense makes you stumble, but you do your best to answer him honestly. “Sometimes. Only the bad days. That’s how we knew you were having a bad day because we’d smell them on you.”

He’d lean his chest against the railings like his body was too heavy, curved his body like a treble clef as he smoked. And often you’d find him in the alleyway, a cigarette in one hand and food for the cats in another.

“It’s crazy how I do shit without knowing the real meaning.”

You shrug, “habits are harder to break than memory.”

Osamu nods. A beat passes before he continues the conversation on his own.

“I’ve had this same pack since I left the hospital.” He opens it and reveals only a few sticks missing, “play with it for the most part but I’ll smoke one when I get overwhelmed. I dreamt of you once and my heart wouldn’t stop beating. I had to go outside and calm myself. Nearly gave Tsumu a heart attack when he noticed my bed was empty.”

“He’s a worrywort.”

The sound Osamu makes is not kind. There’s still animosity for his brother, “even more so now.”

“He means well.”

“Sure he does.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your apology takes him by surprise. Osamu shuts the pack and places it back in his pocket. “For what?”

“For, I don’t know.” A lot of things. For burdening him with faded memories, for not being who he needed, for not being enough, “for being in your dream.”

“What are ya saying? It was a good dream. It felt… nice.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods earnestly while looking at you. “I can’t explain it because I really don’t know the specifics, but it felt good. Made me wish I dreamed about ya more.”

The sunset is almost complete, dark orange hues streak the tile floor. Osamu’s been done eating for minutes now. With his plate clean and the conversation running its course, it feels like a good place for this to end. But you don’t think you can part with him just yet. A culmination of yearning and grieving and mourning and aching has led to this and you’ll be damned if it’s over now.

You hop off the stool and Osamu sighs. He matches your movements, slowly getting up, too. He looks ready to leave but you won’t let him go without trying. Not this time.

“Would you like to see the back?”

“Really?” his giddiness prompts yours.

“Yeah, of course.” You lead him to the back and grab your apron. Then you point at the black one on the last hook closest to the back alley door . “Take that apron.”

He hooks his finger around the neck, “this one?”

You nod. “Yeah, that one’s yours.”

He takes it in his hand, shy and foreign in his fingers. It’s different, clumsier, but it’s familiar enough to let your heart burn.

He pulls the fabric over his head and adjusts it along his shoulder. The apron is knotted up by habit, his hands reaching there after the three usual tugs and when he looks up, your stomach swirls at the sight of his beam.

He’s everything you’ve missed in more ways than one, but finally, thank gods, finally. He’s right where he belongs.

#reina.writeshaikyuu!!#haikyuu angst #miya osamu angst #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #i think i’m going to have a drink now

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cieloclercs · 9 months

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what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 6/? (read part 5 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

warnings. yet more angst, you guys asked for more suffering and i’m here to (hopefully) deliver 🫡, y/n is lowkey a bad bitch in this one, i would say you might start feeling sorry for charles but y’all are evil so i really don’t know 😭

pairing. charles leclerc x artsy!reader

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. OK I LIED it’s not the last part… originally it was supposed to be but you all asked for more charles suffering and i didn’t feel like there was quite enough in the first draft so… here we are !! 😃 just a side note tho, this IS going to have a happy ending for y/n and charles (bc i’m weak like that) so if that’s not what you guys wanted i’m sorry i tried i just can’t do it 😭

four weeks later…

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charles_leclerc 26 with ma famille 🤍

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arthur_leclerc tu es vieux 😨 / you’re old

lorenzotl Joyeux anniversaire petit frère ❤️

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leclerc_pascale 😍❤️

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pierregasly joyeux anniversaire calamar ❤️

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carlossainz55 feliz cumple cabrón 😘

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scuderiaferrari Happy birthday, il Predestinato! ❤️

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joris_trouche joyeux anniversaire 🫶

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username charles is so dry just liking all these comments and not replying 😭

username he’s probably depressed y/n’s not forgiven him yet

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username ARTHUR STOP EXPOSING HIM 😭🤚

username not even an y/n like? yikes 😬

username i genuinely think it’s over like, y/n’s not even here?? and she’s not with the leclercs either?? she ALWAYS spends his birthday with the leclercs 😭

username i really don’t want it to be true but i think you’re right 🥲

username the irony of charles abandoning y/n for a girl and then when he comes crawling back she just straight up ignores him 😭😭

username she’s truly an icon

username i wish i was as strong as y/n 😔

username i want to know what went down at the club tho?? what did he say to her to make her miss HIS BIRTHDAY??

username idk but whatever it is it must have been bad 😭

username whoever said ‘the eyes are the window to the soul’ was so real because look at charles’ eyes the man is CRUSHED 😫

username i want to be at this family gathering

username i can literally feel the tension through the screen lmaooo

username hahah i can just imagine what pascale has said to him 😭

username confirmation she likes y/n more than charles 😌

username as she should !!

yourusername

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formula1updates Anyone else getting deja vu? 👀 Charles Leclerc crashes out of Q1 for the United States GP — he’ll start tomorrow’s race from P17 on the grid 😬

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username i don’t even know what to say anymore

username i want to keep defending him because i know this is all because of the y/n situation, but he really needs to learn to put his personal problems aside when it comes to racing 😭

username normally i’d tell you to shut up and let the drivers do their jobs but in this instance you’re totally right 🥲

username well his reaction says it all doesn’t it?

username can we please just forget this season ever happened 🫠

username it started so well though 😭 just these last few races have been an absolute shitshow :(

username he’s never going to learn is he

username this is genuinely getting embarrassing now. y/n’s moving on with her life, yet charles is so hung up on his mistakes that he’s always going to let them get in the way of racing 🙄

username if he wants to be world champion he really needs to start changing his mentality 😔

username did you guys see him in the post quali interviews? i think he was crying ☹️

username WHAT no i feel so bad 😨

username i want to say he deserves it but this feels kind of cruel now…

username he’s literally brought this upon himself. it’s just karma. if you can’t deal with it, go cry somewhere else 😒

username in that shitbox he’ll be lucky to even get in the points :(

username am i the only one that has a really bad feeling about tomorrow?

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y/nsart i can’t believe i’m saying this, but my exhibition ‘flow’ is now being shown in the fine art gallery of monaco! i want to take the time to thank every single one of you who has supported me over the years 🤍 i’ve been working to achieve this dream since i was a little girl, but it’s YOU guys that have helped make it happen !! 😘 thank you all once again from the bottom of my heart x

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leclerc_pascale Personne ne le mérite plus que toi, ma fille ❤️ / no one deserves this more, my girl

y/nsart je t’aime maman 🥹 merci d'avoir toujours été là pour moi / thank you for always being there for me

username omfg their relationship is so wholesome

username i love them 🥹

username the way she literally loves y/n more than charles lmaooo

arthur_leclerc THAT’S MY SISTER EVERYONE

arthur_leclerc SI FIÈRE DE TOI 🫶 / so proud of you

y/nsart arth stop you’re making me cry 😭

username LMAO WHAT HAPPENED TO ARTHUR SLANDERING Y/N EVERY CHANCE HE GOT

username the switch up is INSANE 😭

arthur_leclerc just showing some appreciation for my favourite sibling 😌

username PHAHAHAHHA IM DEAD

username he’s truly picked his side 😭

lorenzotl @arthur_leclerc excuse moi

y/nsart @/lorenzotl the truth hurts 😘

username crying they’re so iconic

yourfriend can’t believe i get to call this absolute GODDESS my best friend 🥹

y/nsart 🥹🥹 je t’aime tellement

username the most talented girl 💗

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username so proud of the growth you’ve shown in the past couple of months ❤️ you deserve all the happiness and success in the world, my love !!

y/nsart thank you so much i love you 🥹🥹

username this girl really has no haters huh

username why should she? y/n has already proven she’s one of the nicest, most talented people on the damn earth, EVERYONE should be a fan

username say it louder for the people in the back !!📢📢📢

username when i say i would sacrifice my SOUL for y/n’s happiness i’m not joking this woman is the love of my LIFE

y/nsart aww i love you 🥹🥹 but please don’t actually do that 😭

charles_leclerc proud of you, amour

username ugh not this bitch again 🙄

username excuse me AMOUR?? charles PLEASE you’re embarrassing yourself 🥴

username charles bffr y/n doesn’t want you here 😭

username he’s not giving up is he?

username this is just getting embarrassing now

username charles is taking grovelling to a whole new level 😂

yourunifriend si belle ❤️ / so beautiful

y/nsart ☺️☺️

username HELLO??

username EXCUSE ME SIR WHO ARE U?? AND WHY ARE YOU CALLING MY WIFE BEAUTIFUL??

username wait wait guys is this the dude that was on her story? 🤔

username omg it might be

username i can HEAR charles sobbing rn 😭😭

username there is SO MUCH going on in this comments section like 😭😭 charles is back AGAIN basically grovelling at y/n’s feet??? y/n’s (potential?) bf has appeared out of the blue??? plus that adorable arthur x y/n sibling moment??? i am LIVING FOR IT

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charles_leclerc COTA23, streaming now on all platforms 🖤

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username BABE WAKE UP NEW CHARLES SONG JUST DROPPED

username oh shit he’s depressed

username we all know y/n did the post friendship break up depression better but slay ig

username y/n liked… 🫢

username make up coming soon? 🤷‍♀️

username girl bffr

joris_trouche on repeat 🔁🖤

username we love supportive bf joris 🥹🫶

username joris >> any other wag

arthur_leclerc i wonder who the muse is 🤔

username ARTHUR STOP 😭😭😭

username pls he’s so unserious 😭

username charles will never get any peace as long as arthur’s around to remind him who’s fault all of this is 😔

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username ENOUGH BOTH OF THEM???

username i can’t figure out if this is another round of grovelling or accepting defeat

username hope it’s the first 🤞🤞🤞 i need my otp together

username nooo charles doesn’t deserve y/n

username i mean charles’ songs have always been a little bit depressing but this is taking it to another level 😭😭

username he’s in his obligatory heartbreak era and i hope it never ends 😈😈😈

username stoppp the funniest thing is the majority of people saying shit like this ^ are actually charles fans im dead 😭

username we wouldn’t be true fans if we didn’t wish him a little suffering when he fucks up 🫶🫶

username i don’t think that’s how being a fan works but you do you i guess 😭

leclerc_pascale 🖤 Vous savez ce qu'il vous reste à faire, Cha / you know what you need to do, cha

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username uhm excuse me?? 🤨🤨🤨

username mama leclerc coming in with the cryptic comment…i’m sensing drama…

username @/leclerc_pascale WHAT DOES IT MEAN??? 😫😫😫

➜ part 7

taglist: @cxcewg @incoherenciass @formula1mount @allywthsr @meabhcavanagh @driveswiftly13 @zzblooda @gaslysainz @be-your-coffee-pot @siovhanroy @hwienv @xoxozoedagyal @alireads27 @glow-ish @eviethetheatrefreak @nmw-am @buendiabebeta @laneyspaulding19 @imthebadguyyy @marialovesf1 @f1wintermoon13 @topaz125

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ps if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just leave a comment asking on this post!

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queerfanfiction · 3 months

Text

Kinktober — Public

Oops, this has been in my drafts for months... Probably should save it for Kinktober 2024 but....here. ❤️

Larissa Weems x Reader words: 2.5k

AO3 Link

Summary: Reader and Larissa sit together at the Poe Cup.

As October ended, the Vermont air clung to the last bits of autumn’s warmth. The trees were beautiful colors—leaves dappling the ground with warm tones. Sunlight danced across the water that stretched before you all the way to Raven Island. Nevermore’s Poe Cup was about to begin, and electricity filled the air. You could hear the sounds of hundreds of people moving around you with shouts, laughter, and singing. It seemed as if the entire academy was crowded around the grassy bank next to the lake, ready to witness the competition.

There were tents set up for each team, a refreshments table staffed with student volunteers, and various metal stands constructed to watch the festivities from. Banners were visible in the crowd of students; some supported the Gold Bugs, some the Black Cats, and so on. Carts of sweets and snacks were pushed about jovially. Larissa had made sure hot chocolate was available for the event, and you considered grabbing one for her.

The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning. When you caught sight of Larissa near the front of the crowd in her impeccably fitted dress, a mischievous smirk settled upon your face. The principal stood on a small red-carpeted wooden platform at the front of the crowd just before the water.

Wild, half-formed thoughts began whizzing through your lustful mind as you watched Larissa’s perfectly curated crimson lips move as she spoke to another faculty member enthusiastically. She always loved the Poe Cup. Arrangements for it began before the school year even started, since Larissa always had such fond memories of the competition. You could think of a few ways to ensure she enjoyed the event. One included your head under her dress in the team changing tents.

It had been a couple weeks since Larissa confided in you that she was interested in having sex in public. At first you were shocked by the confession; you didn’t expect proper, respectable, and responsible Larissa Weems to yearn for that kind of sexual gratification. When she had brought it up, you two were coming back from seeing a movie in Jericho. Your hand had found its way to her inner thigh, stroking circles against her soft skin. As innocent and comforting as the action was intended to be, Larissa confessed how arousing it was to be so intimate in a room with others there, completely unaware.

“I want to welcome you all to the Edgar Allan Poe Cup!” erupted Larissa’s voice, over the tumultuous buzz and applause of the crowd. Your cheeks flash pink as you realize you were lost in the thought of your concealed hands hard at work. You’d have to compose yourself a bit better if you were to put your plan into motion. Spectators screamed and clapped, some even waving their banners at Larissa excitedly as her voice echoed over the crowd. If they kept that level of commotion up, you were sure that any of Larissa’s later noises could be obscured…

The next thing you heard was “Let the Poe Cup begin!”

Larissa, looking ever so pleased with herself, pulls the trigger of the starting pistol to signal the beginning of the event. Even louder cheers fill the chilly air. Howls and whoops bellow as shrill as possible as everyone sets their eyes on the teams pushing off from the shore.

Beaming at you and not privy to your devious plan, Larissa comes to your side to join you in the metal bleachers. You let your eyes roam over the curves of her body—her deliciously long torso and toned legs. You would have probably imploded if your principal had looked like that growing up.

As she sits, you bring your hand to her back and rub it gently, as if you’re just offering encouragement and support. You briefly glance around to ensure you two are as uninteresting as anticipated. Satisfied, your hand begins to wander, providing faux-chaste touches. Your fingertips graze her neck, trail her arms, brush over her breast. You surmise that Larissa is clueless and intending to soliloquize about her years as co-captain for Ophelia Hall.

Sensing the need to take control of the moment, you utter huskily, just loud enough for her to hear, “You look so fucking good right now.” At that, your fingers make their way to fiddle with the edge of Larissa’s dress hem.

Larissa stiffens, suddenly acutely aware of the placement of your hands. “What are you doing?” A whisper—her tone demure and surprised. You could swear you heard a hint of panic bubbling up in her chest.

True, students were close, but who was really invested in their principal during the long-awaited Poe Cup? Your thoughts went to the extensive conversation you and Larissa had in the car weeks prior about each other’s green, yellow, and red sexual flags. Armed with knowledge of how badly she fantasized about the risk of almost being caught, you tentatively continued touching her thighs. Heat flashed through Larissa, stealing her breath and eliciting a gasp.

“Shh, Principal Weems.” You direct into her ear, knowing her slight change in breathing was most likely imperceptible alongside the trees swaying in the wind, the water lapping, and the simultaneous cheering and clapping. “Take off your scarf, and fold it in your lap.”

Her body followed the command almost automatically, and you slipped your hand under it. The sudden thrill gripped her. She couldn’t. They couldn’t. Not here. ...could they? The idea made her ache. Larissa chewed on her bottom lip, querying whether or not to let you proceed. They were in broad daylight among her students, not a dim movie theater with strangers. She couldn't believe this situation was actually turning her on.

“In fact, you’ll probably want to stay very, very quiet.”

Larissa tried to focus on keeping her breathing steady and her red lips firmly clamped shut. She couldn’t help but feel her heart begin to race. Excitement, desperation, panic, surprise, and overwhelming need all contributed to the rise of her pulse. Her eyes darted over to other faculty, paranoid that at any moment you two would be found out. Larissa’s brain was screaming at herself, but she couldn't stop. It was like the desire was controlling her body, and her mind just wasn't on the right receiver channel. Her immediate arousal and submission was a little embarrassing. Shouldn’t she be able to keep her professional life and private life separate? That didn't seem to matter, though; it was like her body was on autopilot for anything you wanted once you whispered in her ear.

Her cheeks got hot, and Larissa found herself inadvertently opening her legs a bit, like an invitation. With any luck, the average passer-by wouldn’t figure out what was going on.

“We can't do this here!" Larissa quietly hissed, sounding more flustered and docile than she meant to. She felt like that’s what she should say. Surely she could have more conviction, bat your hand away, cross her legs, ….anything. Larissa frantically glanced around one more time to make sure that no one looked towards you two; she desperately did not want to get caught. What a scandal for the school it would be.

Nearly surrendering, Larissa closed her eyes and considered the throbbing ache between her legs. She slid a hand onto your thigh, needing to brace herself. Your breathy voice whispering in her ear only made Larissa impossibly wetter. Who knew being called by her title would turn her on like this? Who knew sneaking around in front of students and faculty could make Larissa putty in your hands?

At this moment, Larissa overheard two students discussing the potential winnings of the betting pool they had orchestrated for the Poe Cup. She wanted to intervene, but she knew intervening would cost her. Instead, she pushed the reprimand that she owed the students down—below the knots of desire in her stomach.

With a fingertip hovering over Larissa’s silk underwear where you know her clit is, you begin to lightly graze the fabric up and down. Regardless of your warning for her to be silent, you can hear the groan and pant Larissa tries to obscure, indecent and deliciously sexy.

After leisurely making circles over the damp silk, Larissa began to subtly shift her weight in hopes of adding more friction.

“You like this, ‘Rissa?” Your voice was low and intoxicating as you teased her.

Before she could finish nodding, your fingers found their way under the silk fabric to her flesh. You could feel heat radiating off her, and it made you want to disregard everyone here and to taste her arousal. Your fingers moved through the soft tuft of hair on her mons pubis, hoping to tease Larissa further, until finally feeling her slick folds.

Larissa was thankful to be sitting down, because her knees would have buckled at that moment of contact. A whine of pleasure threatened to leave her throat, and it took all her willpower to stay quiet. The slight twitching of Larissa’s hips could be played off as excitement from the event. Plenty of movement surrounded you two. People knocked against each other getting to their seats or jumping up and down. ‘Excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s were exchanged loudly. No one much cared for what else was going on besides the race.

"Then fuck my fingers. Make yourself come.”

With that, you enter two fingers into her opening. Your palm arched against her clit, adding delectable pressure. Your two fingers were crooked inside of Larissa, searching for the exact right spot to titillate relentlessly.

The sounds of the Poe Cup faded away to a faint ringing. Larissa groaned and started to move her hips more exaggeratedly, as if she were properly shifting in her seat. Any hope of actually being able to pay attention to the race and narrate for the crowd was long gone.

In the meantime, you kept a steady rhythm, flicking your fingers inside of Larissa. The sound of her stifled pants and the way you could feel her twitching and tensing was driving you to the edge of despair. For one wild moment, you wondered if she’d be able to clamber onto your lap without anyone noticing. As if she was considering the same, Larissa desperately clutched onto the edge of the bench, making sure not to fumble with or accidentally tug at her scarf that way keeping your hand obscured.

A deep shudder of pleasure and relief ran through Larissa, catching her off guard. She let out a moan without thinking and then bit her lip to try and stop herself from making any more. Something that was getting increasingly difficult with the way your skilled fingers were working.

“Mmm, more." There was both an urgent pleading and spacey quality to Larissa’s tone.

“I’ve dreamed about touching you like this, and I can only keep going if you stay quiet,” you purr matter-of-factly to her.

As attractive as her begging was, you wanted to ride out the tension a bit longer before giving into her hunger and yearning. It was too fun to be in control of the woman who prided herself on her poise and authority. And doing so in public at her own school’s event.

Sensing that Larissa was getting more noisy and about to go over the edge at your words, you pull back. You remove your fingers from inside her and instead begin lightly tapping your fingers against her swollen clit.

Murmurs run through the crowd as the teams begun to row against one another back across the lake.

“Principal Weems?” An unfamiliar, youthful voice approached.

You whip your head towards the student interrupting you and Larissa. Your hand stills from under Larissa’s scarf that is concealing the true nature of your shared enjoyment. Your guard is immediately up, attempting to not give into alarm. Thankfully, the student’s gaze was focused out on the lake and only just meets yours and Larissa’s.

“Y-yes?” Larissa is able to respond, trying to put on her usual façade.

“Would it be okay if I used your binoculars? Yoko won’t share hers because they’re supposedly specially made to withstand the sunlight.” An indignant Enid, or so you assumed from hearing various stories, stood beside Larissa.

Even though much of the race was held in the distance, Larissa was likely the only faculty there with binoculars. Well, maybe one or two others had the sense to bring a pair.

“Of course, Ms. Sinclair. Please keep them for the rest of the event.”

“Oh, thank you, Principal Weems! You’re the best!” Enid grabs the binoculars and skips away without a clue to what she had interrupted. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Enid hold up the binoculars in a righteous manner and stick her tongue out at who you assume is Yoko.

You turn your attention back to the ghostly-pale woman beside you. You briefly check-in with her. “Still green?”

A breath and then affirmation. “Green.”

Your hand hadn’t left Larissa’s underwear, so you take back control of the situation.

“So naughty, Principal Weems…” you murmured. “About to be coming all over the bleachers. All over my hand… better keep quiet, otherwise, we’re bound to be interrupted again. Wouldn't that be terrible? If I had to stop touching you now, stop fucking you with my fingers?”

Larissa should be mortified. She should be careful. Neither are things she is interested in. Instead, her body twitches and aches at the use of her title again—the thought of being naughty and of getting away with it.

Your hand slips back down to Larissa’s opening. Larissa all but directs your fingers back inside her, eager to find a more lasting release. However, you knew that she was so tightly wound and that it would only take the faintest touch, a few slick circles on her clit before she shattered. Breathing in Larissa’s ear and telling her how wet you are while touching her brought her over the edge. She trembled beside you. In an effort to mask the spasm, you reached over with your free hand and rubbed her upper arm as if her shiver was due to the chilly autumn day.

Instead of stopping completely, your fingers moved in slow spirals, drawing out the aftershocks for as long as she could handle before leaning bonelessly against your side. The world narrowed to the warmth of your hand on her back, the lazy pulse between her legs. You place a kiss to Larissa’s forehead, murmuring that she had done so well for you.

A few calm moments passed where you two breathed together before the rumbling from the various Black Cat supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight. The whole crowd was on their feet, eager to decipher the team in the lead, and it looked like you two had gotten away with it.

“Well, that was exciting,” Larissa let out hoarsely.

A grin erupted onto your face as you stated, “And just with my left hand…”

Larissa shoved your arm in response before standing and adjusting her clothing, making her way over to the podium again announce the winners. Now this was a Poe Cup to remember.

#larissa weems #larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader #gwendoline christie #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #public #smut #poe cup #wednesday netflix

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doobea · 3 months

Text

✰⋆⁺★DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC ─ CHOSO KAMO

synopsis: you're positive that your roommate is a witch. or warlock? wizard? whatever the correct term is.

contents: fluff, gn!reader, reader is a human who can't see cursed spirits, roommate!choso, slight AU where Choso pretends to be a college student but is actually a sorcerer wc: 2K a/n: hello i am somewhat alive... i think? this has been sitting in my drafts for a while idk

You're not a superstitious person by nature, but there are just some things that you can't help but notice whenever Choso's in the same room.

One: Aside from coming home and smelling like he’s just crawled out of the city sewer like ten times, Choso brings back a lot of weird… vintage accessories — and this is just you being nice, okay?

Sometimes it’s straight up weapons, like swords and medieval looking armor. Other times it’s eerie looking talismans and charms that feel strangely alive whenever you go into his room. And, today, he comes back with a fucking urn of something. You could’ve sworn you heard the jar straight up hiss when you stared at it too long.

He’s not making anything that smells, though, which you’re thankful for.

“Choso,” you call out your roommate’s name and cautiously peer into the kitchen, where he’s currently cooking the damn thing on the stove top.

“Yeah?” Choso’s back is facing you, the sleeves of his sweater are rolled up to his elbows, and some rock tunes are playing in the background as he’s stirring whatever concoction that’s in the urn with, thankfully, his own utensils. “Did you need something?”

You originally moved to a bigger place when you landed a job out of college. It’s located in the middle of the city, so naturally you found an apartment that’s about a fifteen minute subway ride away, but being in the city meant crazy expenses. Roommate forums are currently extremely popular and not totally sketchy by any means, so that’s how Choso, a PhD candidate, ended up moving into your two bedroom apartment.

Oh, and he totally justifies all the weird little knick knacks as part of his thesis. You’re definitely going to ask him about it whenever he finishes that up.

And, weirdly enough, even after six months of living together, there’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you to avoid questions about family members and distant pasts. There are also untouchable topics, like on days where Choso comes back bloody knuckled and bruised, and you kinda respect his boundaries. You do. Because, whether he's actually a PhD student, his personal life is beyond your concern.

You did, however, once asked if you could do a taste test on a similar… DIY recipe Choso created, back in the earlier days when you just thought Choso was weird, and his eyes went wide, a little bit terrified, and shot down your offer immediately. He also made you pinky promise him to never, ever consume or touch anything that he brings home that looks remotely out of place, as he would put it.

But, recently, he isn’t even making an effort to hide these things away.

“I’ll be done with the stove soon, if you need it.” Choso adds when you’re taking a moment too long to reply. He removes the wooden ladle and it’s practically soaked in all red. Whatever’s in that urn… it can’t be just simple tomato sauce.

The answer dies in your throat as you’re reminded that your health insurance would probably not cover whatever might happen if you offer to watch him… cook? If that’s even what he’s doing.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m planning to make some noodles tonight, if you want any.” You’re saying this with as little precaution as possible, not trying to offend him because, hey, at the end of the day Choso could be running a research experiment that could also be life changing. At least, that’s what you try and convince yourself.

He turns his head at this and nods with a tired smile, dark bags evident. “That’d be nice,” Choso continues to stir, almost stuck in a trance, before adding, “By the way, have you seen my—”

“Weird glowy talisman with the monkey in the middle? Yeah, somehow it got moved to the coat closet this time,” you say with a casual shrug.

It’s a bit amusing to know that you’ve gotten used to all the accessories he’s brought back. You don’t bother questioning how some of these things also keep getting misplaced around the apartment. Maybe your roommate has a sleepwalking condition, too?

“Oh, I’ve been looking for that everywhere since this morning! Thanks, it’s actually for—”

“Your thesis?” A loud snort slips out when his face drops and flushes a shade darker.

“Right, yeah, thesis—totally not anything else….”

Two: Choso’s relatives are definitely not human. Not like you, at least.

There were a few rare times where Choso would come home with someone other than himself. The first time it happened, you nearly pooped yourself from the sight alone. Your roommate stumbled back nearly shirtless, clothes almost in rags, bruises marred every visible inch of his body, and he was unconscious while leaning onto a younger man who was in similar condition.

You nearly fought with a complete stranger, who was equally acting as weird as Choso, about calling the police and sending your roommate to a hospital for treatment instead of resting on the thrifted IKEA couch you got off a shitty marketplace forum.

The man, who introduced himself as Yuuji, refused and even threw a couple of bribes your way to keep quiet about the whole thing. And, while you never really suspected whether your roommate is secretly affiliated with gangs, you were honestly so close to breaking your lease and finding another place, maybe another job, somewhere far away so you don’t have to deal with whatever Choso goes through.

Choso makes a brief comment after that event, something along the lines of ‘needing to clean up after work’ and ‘sorry, our centrifuge malfunctioned’. You seriously begin to start questioning the academic integrity behind everything at this point. Just what kind of thesis is he working on?

In the end, you two don’t talk about it and you barely see Yuuji after that — well, until tonight.

Yuuji happened to be around the area, showing up to your apartment in a similar, but not too extreme, condition as last time you’ve remembered. Less scratches, minimal tear to his clothes, but still managing to throw half ass bribes your way to ‘keep things quiet’, which earned him an earful from Choso. And, from that conversation, it turns out that Yuuji and him are half brothers. Outside of how they interact with each other, you really can’t see the resemblance at all.

Somehow, despite all of this, you feel slightly better compared to the first time when Yuuji arrived. Whatever they’re doing, it must be kinda safe, since they still have their brain cells intact.

“I hope you still have extras,” Yuuji muffles out as he scoops up another mouthful of noodles from his already overflowing bowl. Choso’s currently fighting the urge to wipe Yuuji’s sauce painted cheeks clean, you can easily tell by the deep furrow on his face.

“Yuuji,” you’re trying so hard to not sound rude when you say this, and point at the empty container on the stove top. “You’ve already gone through four servings and the bread sticks, I don’t even have enough in the fridge for lunch tomorrow.” Seriously, does this guy have an infinite stomach?

Not to mention, the bruises and cuts from his cheeks earlier have all entirely faded away by the time you finished setting the dining table. Yuuji’s superhuman strength and tenacity alone is something suspicious, too. It was the fact that Yuuji effortlessly lifted up the couch with one hand when his phone slid under or the fact that he drank from Choso’s weird concoction earlier and is still thriving.

Choso, too. Because he also did a fucking taste test and you could’ve sworn on your life that the strange broth started to bend whenever he hovered his fingers over it. He’s always had a distinct smell of blood, and there’s always a vibe of something not-right about him.

Yeah, there’s no way in hell that they’re both human.

And, if they are, you’re going to eat your shorts.

But that’s besides the point.

“Did you actually?” Choso blinks a few times.

The younger male makes a strangled noise, most likely out of the fact he lost track of just how many portions he consumed, and flashes you an apologetic smile behind all of his tomato smeared lips. “Sorry… I’ll make it up to you later?”

Though, despite the non-human traits that both of them show, you can’t deny that they’re pleasant to be around. Right now, Yuuji is definitely radiating golden retriever energy right now with his pouting lips and big pleading eyes. How can anyone say no to that?

Choso has helped you out every now and then with weird blessings and strange hand movements that somehow always gets rid of cramps on your shoulders. That’s gotta be witchcraft in itself. Oh, and he always takes out the trash, that’s a bonus to have.

“Just bring dinner over next time,” you suggest, which earns you a strange look from your roommate across the table. Oh, wait, wouldn’t that be crossing personal boundaries? “Or you can just do delivery, it doesn’t really—”

“No, it’s fine,” Choso spits out, stirring the remaining noodles on his plate back and forth with his fork. He has a strange expression on his face that you can’t quite make out. “I don’t mind.”

Three: Choso can see things that you can’t. And you kinda prefer to keep it that way.

You should probably be used to these things by now. There’s certain odd occurrences that come hand-in-hand when rooming with Choso. The most alarming one you can possibly think of is the strange mumblings you would hear sometimes from his room. It’s… well been apparent to you since day one but, again, not really your business to pry.

Tonight has been a strange string of events and you’ve never seen Choso so… comfortable showing you a glimpse of his personal life.

You’re not sure what prompted you to join Choso on his walk with Yuuji to the train station late at night. You should be in bed, getting ready for work tomorrow, not out accompanying your not-so-human roommate and his brother. It’s nearly midnight and you need to catch the train earlier than usual because of a stupid work conference and not get yourself into weird supernatural events. What if next time they both mark a demon summoning circle in the bathroom, or you get home to ghouls in your kitchen, or—

“Something bothering you?”

You scream, and promptly hit the nearest object near you out of fear, which happened to be Choso, but he stops your fist with his palm as if it were a paper airplane.

“Hey,” he softly calls out your name and eyes you, creeping closer until his shoulders are bumping into yours. “Stay still for a second…”

“W-What?” You swallow around a dry tongue, laughing nervously at the lack of distance.

But Choso has an unreadable look in his eyes, like he’s focused on something else, a look he always puts on whenever he’s anxious and peering out the apartment windows many times at night. Waiting for the right moment for… something. Then, after a long, stretching pause, he raises his arms and pulls you into a tight embrace that leaves you with more questions than anything else.

“Um, h-hello?!”

“It’ll be over in just a second,” Choso says, still deep in focus.

But you notice how intimate the position is. Your chests are nearly pressed together, your foreheads are, and you can absolutely smell the remnants of dinner from his mouth. Eventually, Choso shifts away and untangles himself from you, wiping his fingers off on the bottom of his shirt. He looks content with himself, hands on his hips.

You’re not sure what the hell just happened, but now that weird mind haze from earlier is slowly fading away, and you’re realizing that being hugged by your weird roommate feels way too good.

“Are you like… Merlin or something?”

Yeah, you’re positive that he’s some sort of wizard at this point.

#doobea writing #choso x reader #choso fluff #choso kamo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk choso #choso kamo #choso

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peachhcs · 1 year

Text

The 5 times Neteyam loved you and the 1 time he said it.

Neteyam x fem!reader

Word count: 15.6k 😳

Summary: pretty self explanatory I think, but the 5 times Neteyam loved you and the 1 time he finally said it 😌

Warnings: near character death, talk of absent parents, gun & knife violence, blood

ITS FINALLY HERE!! THE LONG AWAITED 15k+ fic I took like a week to write 😭 This is cliche but I haven’t seen anyone else do this prompt before. I listened to the people and put this into one large fic, so I hope y’all like it!! The ending is..a little rocky, but it’s what you get after forcing myself to finish this. There is a prologue in this & I wasn’t originally going to include it, but I liked it too much to delete it from the story LOL

If you guys want a Lo’ak version, I have one in the drafts, but idk if that is something y’all want. My requests for fic ideas are open, so send some in if y’all want! Thanks for all the love!! (ps, not quite proof read so if there’s some spelling or grammatical errors my apologies)

MASTERLIST

PROLOGUE.

It was no doubt that you were an extreme pleaser. Growing up as the eldest sibling to your parent’s five, it was your job to stay in line. Set the example. Follow the rules. Be the golden child. It was the whole reason why you and Neteyam bonded so quickly when you met.

He knew how it felt to be the perfect one. You both carried the same burden, the same pressure, the same expectations set by your parents. All you wanted was to please them and get the praise you desperately craved.

You saw Neteyam for a few weeks now. It started one day in the woods when you were out exploring. Foana and Ni`awtu insisted going out into the forest. You knew being the eldest that you couldn’t possibly leave them to their own devices, so you reluctantly followed after them.

That same afternoon, the Sully kids decided embarking on their own expedition. The clan was so large and spread out in nearly every part of the forest that you hardly knew every single person. You knew of the Sully children and their great father Jake, the Olo’eyktan and Toruk Makto, however you did not know them.

Everything changed for you and your siblings that afternoon when Foana wandered off. You had no idea that a certain Sully boy would change the entire trajectory of your life that day.

You were distracted with admiring the beautiful flora that you didn’t even realize your younger sister disappeared. A tiny tug on your tail made you spin around, hissing at Ni`awtu standing shyly behind you.

“Ni, what do you want?” You answered annoyed that she interrupted your gazing. Seeing her little worried features made you scrap any annoyance you ever possessed in the first place.

“It is Foana. I do not know where she went.” The fear laced through the young girl’s voice. Your eyes shot up, now realizing that the youngest sibling was no longer around the two of you.

To make matters even worse, you only brought your knife with you expecting a quick and short trip.

“Ni`awtu, you were supposed to be watching her at all times. Argh.” You pushed past her, beginning to sniff out any possible trails Foana may wandered off on.

“I am sorry, sister. I swear, I thought she was right behind me.” The familiar wobble of Ni’s voice and her trembling hands told you she was close to tears. Sighing, you collected her into your arms.

“Do not worry, it is not your fault. We will find her.” Being the eldest meant you could not be mad at your little siblings for long. You also could not let them take the blame for things—even if it was their fault at times. That was just what came with growing up as the eldest. You took nearly all the blame.

The two of you walked the tree lines, scanning every possible inch for that little rascal. She hardly knew the forest like you, so she couldn’t have been too far. If anything, she was probably cowering underneath a leaf or behind a tree because she did not know where she was anymore.

Your ears perked up when you heard voices ahead. In a quick maneuver, you shoved your sister behind you incase it was a threat. Not many from your clan ventured this far out into the forest by the old shack. It was forbidden by the Olo’eyktan—so whoever was ahead couldn’t possibly be Na’vi.

There was a tiny laugh, though. It caught you off guard and your defenses fell for just a moment. There came another laugh, louder and one you recognized this time.

“Foana.” You muttered and ran ahead through the brush.

When you came through clearing, you grew surprised seeing your little sister playing around with another younger Na’vi girl.

“Y/N, look! I made a friend!” Little Foana sensed your presence and motioned towards the other little girl. She smiled up at you with a toothy grin.

“Foana, what in Eywa are you doing all the way out here? You do not wander away from me or your sister.” Your mom voice came out, loud and booming. The little one looked down in shame realizing she was in trouble.

“I am sorry, sister. I did not mean to. I just..I saw a flying lizard and had to follow it. I found her on the way.” She stuck out a thumb at other girl. Another sigh escaped your lips knowing she must’ve also strayed off her path and probably had people looking for her as well.

“Tuk! There you are! Why did you wander off?” A new voice entered the scene. She raced past you, scooping up the girl in her arms.

“Sorry, Kiri. I found a friend, though.” Tuk pointed at your sister who gave a similar toothy grin and a wave.

“It is okay, sister. Just make sure you tell someone next time, okay? Neteyam, I found her, it is okay.” You didn’t realized there was entire group behind you now. Two boys, no three boys, stood behind you. Two Na’vi and the singular human boy you knew lived around here.

“Tuk, I told you to keep up with us.” The shorter Na’vi boy went past you to ruffle up her little braids.

You hadn’t moved a single muscle since their sudden arrival. You were too awestruck in the way they comforted the girl. Neither of them showed any signs of anger or annoyance that she wandered off. It was so unfamiliar to you—all of that sincerity and comfort to one another.

“Oh, please excuse us. I am so sorry. I am Kiri. This is Tuk, Lo’ak, Neteyam, and Spider behind you.” The girl that came in first finally acknowledged your presence with a warm smile as she introduced what must’ve been her siblings.

“Oh, no need for apologies. I am Y/N. This is Ni`awtu and Foana.” You did a bow of greeting which your sisters quickly followed after.

“It seems as though our sisters have befriended one another. We were so worried when we realized she had wandered off.” Kiri laughed and pinched Tuk’s little nose. You smiled at the affection.

“Yes, us too. I was glad I found them both unharmed.” You pulled your sisters closer, trying to show a tiny bit of affection like the other siblings displayed.

“Let’s just be glad we didn’t need to call dad in. He would have beaten our asses if we told him we lost Tuk.” Lo’ak laughed and then his older brother smacked him on the head. The unfamiliar terms and use of some English words intrigued you. Not many Na’vi knew English besides the Olo’eyktan—obviously being from the sky.

You began putting two and two together. The five fingers of Lo’ak and Kiri. Lo’ak’s use of English phrases you didn’t quite understand. These were the Sully children. The Olo’eyktan’s kids.

“Oh my Eywa, I am sorry. You are children of the Olo’eyktan. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You rushed out, flushed you had not picked up on it beforehand. You bowed again, urging your sisters to do the same.

“Woah, we’ve never been greeted like that before.” Lo’ak snickered and the older boy hit his head again.

“Lo’ak, stop it. Do not apologize. We are Omatikaya as much as you are. It is really our father who gets bowed to.” The older one spoke to you in a kind tone that had your face heating up in a way it had never done before.

“Well, it is still a great pleasure to meet all of you.” He grinned at you. There was something igniting inside of you just looking at his smile. Something you had never felt before.

“Can Foana and I have a playdate sometime?” Tuk spoke to you, her little voice adorable as ever. However, you were unfamiliar with the term she used.

“Playdate means like a hang out.” Kiri must’ve seen your confusion. You quickly nodded.

“Of course, anytime as long as neither of you wander off again.” You joked some, smiling down at your little sister. She grinned excitedly.

“Perfect, you may bring her over anytime or we can bring Tuk over. She has been so excited to start making new friends ever since our parents allowed her to go out more.” Kiri was so soft spoken and so gentle. Her presence alone just made you feel so warm and welcomed.

“You could bring your other siblings, too. You have two others, right?” Lo’ak spoke up more. You quickly nodded, a bit surprised he even knew that. It wasn’t like your family was well known like they were.

“Tsanten and Naria.” You did not miss the way Lo’ak’s face blushed at the mention of Naria.

“Well, bring them all and even yourself, we love the company.” Kiri beamed and you couldn’t help but smile yourself.

You hardly received invitations out often. You were always busy taking care of your siblings, cleaning up, staying in, following your parents’ orders. It didn’t leave much room for fun and going out.

Neteyam was still glancing in your direction. He just couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from your pretty hair flowing loosely down your back, or the way your eyes lit up when Kiri extended the invitation to you and the rest of your siblings.

He knew of your family through passing here and there. You were the eldest, just like him, yet he never saw you out much. Either you were hidden away in your tent, or out hunting. He knew you were a hunter because Beyral spoke of your name often.

You intrigued him. He liked the way the confusion floated over your face when Lo’ak or Tuk used phrases you didn’t understand. He liked the protective nature you held over every single one of your siblings—similar to him. How you held them close to you. He wanted to know more about you. He wanted to make you smile again because it sent an unfamiliar feeling of butterflies in his stomach that he enjoyed.

He wanted more of you. If only the two of you knew what your future held.

ONE.

Neteyam was protective over everything in his life—his parents, his siblings, and now you. Being the eldest, especially to the Olo’eyktan, it was his job becoming the protector when his father wasn’t there.

He fought off anyone who poked fun at Lo’ak or Kiri for having five fingers. He made sure someone was with Tuk at all times when she went out to the forest. He helped his mother anytime she asked whether it was with food or his siblings.

There was no denying how similar the two of you were. It was what drew him to you. You held the same protective nature as him. You took care of your siblings the same way he did. You understood the burdens he carried because you held them high on your shoulders as well.

It was when the two of you were together that he could let go of everything, even if it was just for a little bit. When the day was done and everyone was sound asleep for the night, tucked safely into their tents was when the two of you snuck out to spend time together.

It was more of a private relationship for the time being. Being the next Olo’eyktan in line, Neteyam knew that if he told people he was seeing someone it would spread like wildfire across the village. People would start talking and they probably wouldn’t ever leave you alone once the word was out. He wasn’t sure if you wanted that on top of everything else and if he was being honest, he wanted you to himself just a little while longer.

His feet worked quickly jumping from tree branch to tree branch. The luminescent forest was his guiding light through the night and he took one final swing to his destination. When he got his footing, there you were right where you met almost every night.

Your back was slumped against the tree and you hadn’t noticed him yet, instead, your gaze was focused on the glimmering stars above. Every time, Neteyam was so in awe of you. He knew how stressed you were throughout the day having to do this and that, so seeing you here waiting for him in the most relaxed state gave him a sense of pride.

“Oh, hi.” You finally noticed his looming presence. The boy grinned, walking towards you.

“Hi, sorry I am late. I had to make sure Tuk was truly asleep for the night.” The sound of your laugh made his heart swell in his chest. He snuggled himself in beside you with his head resting on your stomach.

When you put your hands across his back, all of his muscles finally relaxed. The stress slowly dissipated and everything felt right being in your arms. During the day, he was a leader who held no fear. At night when he was with you like this, none of that mattered. He didn’t have to put on the facade for you.

“She never falls asleep on time. I think she is afraid she will miss out on something. Foana is the same way.” He hummed when he felt your other hand begin brushing through his braids.

“That explains why she is always following Lo’ak and Kiri around.” Your stomach rumbled with laughter again and the vibrations were so calming to Neteyam. If he could, he would have your laugh on repeat.

“Your training, how did that go today?” Another thing Neteyam adored about you was how you never failed to ask him about his day. Any detail he told you, you remembered and talked about it the next night. He had never been listened to like that before. It made everything inside of him feel warm and appreciated like he had a purpose.

“It was okay. I think dad is getting mad at me because I can not seem to understand things as fast as he wants me to.” Neteyam sat himself up so he could look at you properly. His back fell against the tree in the same way yours did, still keeping your bodies close.

“You will get it, do not worry. It takes time learning all the ways of the Olo’eyktan. Your father probably struggled as much as you did once.” You clutched his bicep to give it a comforting squeeze. Neteyam’s gaze fell away to the sky, though. His mind beginning to turn elsewhere.

“Yes, but he was already strong when he fell into the position. He was an adult already. I am merely a teenager still.” He heard you scoff beside him.

“You are just as strong, Neteyam. Do not tell yourself you are not. You are learning and your father just wants what is best for you.” You always knew what to say to him to make him feel better. His gaze finally fell back to you, your gentle gaze making his face blush.

“I think my parents are catching up to the fact that I may be seeing someone.” You giggled, looking away as you changed subjects. Neteyam, however, stiffened up at your words.

“What do you say?”

“Well, I just laugh it off and say I am not. They do not ask much more after that.” He could not read your expression because you weren’t looking at him. He didn’t know if you were upset you had to deny it or something entirely different.

He certainly wished he didn’t have to be so private about his personal life, but he was afraid his mother wound disapprove—not that there was anything to disapprove of you. It was mostly the others in the clan. People would start talking. They would start seeking you out. You would have to start learning the ways of Tsahik, maybe (Hopefully in his mind). He wanted to make sure you were completely comfortable to be put into such a spotlight like he was before anything was really said about the two of you.

“Neteyam? Are you alright?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts. You were already looking at him when he met your pretty golden eyes.

“Yes, sorry. I was lost in thought.” He gave you a gentle smile to reassure you.

“About what?” You loved to pick his brain though. His expression twisted and he found the need to place his arm around you and pull you closer towards him. Your head fell absently against his chest.

“It is not important.” He had this thing where he would sometimes hide his emotions from you. He did not want to burden you with this one right now.

“I feel like it is, though. I will not make you tell me, but you can if you want to.” Another feature he absolutely adored about you. You never pried, but made it known that he could tell you anything. He squeezed you a tiny bit closer as if there was anymore space left between you two.

“Are-are you..upset that our relationship is not..for the entire clan to know?” He blurted and then avoided your gaze so he wouldn’t see your expression.

“No, not necessarily. I like the privacy.” You answered honestly, but Neteyam wasn’t sure if he believed it yet or not.

“Are you lying?” You sat up more to look at him. He was gnawing at his lip, worried that you were lying.

If he could give you the world, he would. He wanted to give you everything. He wanted to show you off and take you on dates that weren’t in the dark. He wanted to hold your hand and kiss you in front of people so they knew you were his. However, he could not do any of that in fear that someone would be mean to you or say rude things. The entire clan was kind, but there were few who said things when they did not approve. Neteyam only knew because he heard the things people said about his father when he became Olo’eyktan.

He is demon blood. How would he know how to lead a clan?

Can we really trust him with our people?

What does she see in him?

Those children, they are demon blood. Five fingers.

They are not true Na’vi.

He could only imagine the things they could say when he announced his possible chosen woman. He wanted to keep you out of that. He wanted to protect you from it as much as he could.

“No, I am not lying. Why would I lie?” You gave a small chuckle; however, Neteyam was still not eased.

“Right, sorry. You would not lie about that.” He looked down, embarrassed he even thought you would lie to him. A gentle hand cupped his face and directed his attention back to you.

“What is going on in that head of yours? Tell me, it seems to be bothering you.” You observed his entire face and Neteyam was flushing under your intense stare.

He took your hands in his, squeezing gently and blowing out a long breath.

“I want to give you the world, but I can not. I only do not tell people about our relationship because I am afraid they will say things we do not like. I do not want them to hurt you and say things like they do about my father and mother. That is the only reason I have kept us from them. Not because I am embarrassed or anything of you.” Neteyam spilled his entire heart to you right then and there. He watched your face for a reaction and subconsciously prepared for a negative one.

Instead, you just grinned and stroked his hand with your thumb.

“I did not think you were embarrassed of me. I know you have a lot on your mind all the time. You do not need to explain yourself to me. I do not mind keeping our relationship private.” Your head tilted to the side, still grinning.

“I just want to make sure you are completely ready to have every eye on our relationship when and if we tell people. It is a lot of pressure and people will be talking. I do not want to just push you into that if you are not ready.” Neteyam continued.

“I am ready whenever you are ready. You worry too much about me.” You laughed and Neteyam’s head fell against your chest. You cradled the back of his head with a smile.

“So you are sure you are ready to handle it? You can tell me no.” He looked back up at you, scanning your face for any possible secret resentment you weren’t telling him.

“You forget I have thick skin. I grew up with parents who were perfecting my every move. If I can take them, I think I can handle being your girlfriend in public.”

It was then that Neteyam knew you were it for him. You held no fear in your eyes that he seemed to be harboring deep down in his depths. You were ready to be by his side under any circumstance.

He brought your face into his hands so he could pull you forward for a kiss. It was everything he could not say and everything he wanted you to know. The night was young and so were you two in that moment.

TWO.

Tonight was a big night as Neteyam ran around the hut like some mad person. He was shoving Tuk’s toys away, cleaning every single space, forcing his family to be on their best behavior—especially Lo’ak.

You were joining his family for dinner so they could properly meet you. Despite all of his siblings already knowing you, it was his parents who did not have much knowledge about you. It was mostly just name in passing, but one they never asked much about.

When Neteyam told his parents he was even seeing someone in the first place, their reactions were pretty priceless.

“Hey, mom, dad?” The eldest Sully walked into their hut while his parents worked away at their own separate projects. They turned his way at the sound of his voice.

“Yes, what it is ma son?” Neytiri questioned. The boy was flushed and picking at his fingers, unsure of how to even approach the subject.

It wasn’t that his parents were against him dating around, but he had never shown much interest beforehand, so he wasn’t sure how they were going to react now.

“I..I um-well, you see, I met this girl a few weeks ago. She is very kind, strong, intelligent, a hunter. I-I would like you to meet her one night over a dinner, maybe?” He carefully watched for their reactions.

His mother, wide-eyed, looked over at her husband. They exchanged a few glances, probably speaking with their eyes, but Neteyam had no idea what they were silently saying. He worried it was bad things.

“Oh! Yes, yes, of course. We would love to meet this girl. Who is she? Is she Omatikaya? Does she live around here?” His mother stood, embracing him while asking the hundred questions she had. His father sat back with a tiny, proud smile on his lips.

“Her name is Y/n. She is just a few huts down. She is a great hunter and warrior. Beyral speaks of her sometimes.” Neteyam explained your background as best as he could. Both of his parents were beaming widely.

“Yes, I have heard that name a few times before. She sounds wonderful, I am so excited to meet her. I had no idea you were seeing someone.” Neytiri was the most enthusiastic for her eldest. He had nearly reached all of his requirements that would make him one of the People and it was only a matter of time before he would begin looking for a future mate.

Tuk went on all day about her excitement that you would be joining them tonight. Neytiri worked all day preparing a great meal with the help of Kiri.

“Bro, I can’t believe you never told us about dating around with Y/n.” Lo’ak snickered as he helped with some of the cleaning. He earned a slap on his head for that comment.

“Well, it was not much of your business, was it?” Neteyam retorted and the younger brother only shrugged.

“I knew you were sneaking out late at night. I could just never have proof.” Another snicker and another slap. Lo’ak finally let up on his annoying teasing.

“Tuk!!” A little scream broke the boys from their conversation. Nearly everyone in the hut looked over to see a little Na’vi girl run in. Tuk was smiling widely, bringing her friend in for a hug.

“Foana! What did I say?—“ Suddenly, you appeared, grabbing at your youngest sister. Neteyam noticed your other three siblings just behind you. You met his eyes before darting them over to his parents who were glancing your way. Your entire face flushed.

“I am so sorry. Foana begged me to bring her to say hello to Tuk and then..well, I could not leave everyone else out.” You quickly explained yourself in small embarrassment. Neteyam rushed to greet you.

“Tsanten, Naria, what’s up?” Lo’ak happily got up to greet your other siblings. Ni`awtu stood shyly behind your back.

“I am so sorry for them.” You whispered to Neteyam when he was close enough. He only grinned.

“Do not apologize.” He kissed your cheek and then stepped aside for his mother who approached.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Y/n. I have heard many things.” Neteyam watched the exchange, still a tiny bit nervous for his parents approval of you. You smiled, nerves also evident behind your eyes.

“It is so nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Sully. I have heard so many things about you.” You bowed your head using the I see you gesture.

“Please, call me Neytiri. It is so nice to meet all of your siblings, as well.” She grinned again at the other little kids talking with her own children.

“Oh, thank you. They will not be staying, they just begged me to bring them to say hello.” You rushed out, eyeing each one of them to make sure they were being well-behaved in the home of the Olo’eyktan.

“Oh please, we have so much food. They can stay.” Your eyes shot to Neteyam. He only gave you a small shrug, ultimately it being your decision. He figured it would be easier to get your siblings’ introductions out of the way now too.

“Oh, no, you do not have to do that.” You shook your head, but Neytiri was persistent.

“It is no trouble. I insist.” She gently touched your arm. Neteyam could tell you were not used to such hospitality. He also touched your arm and you glanced his way. He nodded, saying if his mother thought it was okay, then it was okay for them to stay.

If anything, it would hopefully keep Lo’ak out of trouble or saying things he shouldn’t if he had other people to talk to that he liked. That was Neteyam’s biggest concern of the night, really.

“Okay, thank you, really.” You thanked Neytiri by bowing your head once more. She grinned and then walked away.

Jake came next to greet you. Neteyam knew you were worrying about him more than anything. He was Olo’eyktan and Toruk Makto after all and it was the most important to get his approval.

“Hello, Y/n. I am glad to finally meet you.” You bowed to him which he did the same back.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Neteyam watched as you urged your siblings to bow before his father as well. They listened to you, doing as told.

You held such power over the little ones, but not in a bad way. Neteyam wondered if they listened to you more than your own parents. You had told him many stories of you becoming the main parent for your siblings growing up. Your parents were very absent. They were always on hunting trips, so it often left you caring for them. The eldest Sully could tell it wore you down—slumped shoulders, tired eyes, callouses on each of your hands, cuts, and bruises.

“Please, please, come in. Make yourselves at home. Our hut is your hut.” Jake ushered all of you in further. You smiled at him, not quite understanding the phrase, but you knew it was a kind one by his tone and expression.

“Y/n! Y/n! Guess what I did this week?” Tuk grabbed at your arm. You smiled down at her and crouched to her eye level.

“What did the mighty Tuk do this week?” Neteyam smiled at the way you ruffled up her hair.

“I caught my very first fish!” The little girl jumped up and down in excitement.

“That is amazing, Tuk! I am so proud of you!” You squeezed her tightly.

“Tell her how big it was.” Neteyam encouraged. His little sister held out her arms wider than herself. Your eyes widened.

“No way. That is bigger than you!” She giggled in excitement.

“I know! Everyone was so excited for me.”

“I certainly hope they were. That is a great accomplishment little Tuk.” You stood and Neteyam beamed at you. He saw your face flush a bit.

“You know she adores you, right?” He reached up to push some of your hair away from your eyes. You were wearing it loose like usual and some of it was pinned back with little petals hooked into it.

You blushed again. Neteyam loved how he could always make you blush like that.

The night went on just the way Neteyam planned. His parents asked you and your siblings many questions which you all happily answered. Just by the smiles and exchanges, Neteyam knew his parents loved you already which relieved him. He was worried something would go wrong. Lo’ak even managed to keep his comments to a minimal and mostly because he didn’t want to look like some fool in front of Naria.

Later, after helping his mom clean up, Neteyam went looking for you. He stopped short when he saw you sitting with Tuk, Foana, and Ni`awtu. You were playing some game with some sticks with them. There was a large smile on your face as you laughed at what Tuk would say. Even your sister, Ni`awtu, was smiling despite how shy she came off as.

Neteyam felt a hand come around his back. His mother appeared next to him, also watching the scene unfold. The sun began to set and eclipse was near. The forest was illuminating around you four. It was the prettiest sight Neteyam had ever seen—you with his little sister playing her games she always made up.

“She is a wonderful woman, Neteyam.” He smiled, glancing his mother’s way for a moment.

“So you like her?”

“We love her. If you do decide one day, she will make a great mate.” A small wave of relief washed through the older boy. He was so glad his parents approved of you.

Now it was just a matter of telling the rest of the clan. He knew most of them would be as supportive as his parents, but there was always the handful that had something to say. Neteyam would do his best to protect you from those who would say things.

Although, for now he would just enjoy the scene in front of him. He wanted to keep the warm feeling bubbling up in his chest for as long as possible. You were utterly perfect in his eyes.

“Neteyam! Come join us!” Tuk had noticed his presence. His mother squeezed his arm before letting him go. You made room for him to join the circle. The two of you exchanged a glance, knowing exactly what the other was saying.

You were definitely a keeper.

THREE.

Neteyam knew you were an excellent fighter. You were the best in the age group every time you went for trainings. He was always so in awe anytime he watched you skillfully use your bow and arrow to hit the targets on the ground from above. Or, your stealth as you dodged in and out of the trees. He knew he could never be as great of a fighter as you were.

However, with that also came the fear he held every time you left to go on missions. This one in particular was an especially dangerous one. His father appointed you to the head and it even shocked Neteyam a bit when he was told to hang back on this one but you were going.

You sat on the ground between his legs as he worked separate little braids into your hair for you. The only time you ever wore braids was for these missions or when you went hunting.

Neteyam did not want you to know he was worrying and playing every single worse case scenario in his head, so he kept quiet as his fingers worked quickly through your hair. However, his leg was bouncing right beside your head and that was hard for you to keep ignoring.

“Neteyam, are you alright?” You placed your hand over his knee. He realized it was bouncing and quickly stopped.

“Yes, I am fine.” You twisted your head around, pausing his braiding for a moment. The look on your face told him you didn’t believe him.

“Liar. What is wrong? Tell me.” You urged and Neteyam knew he couldn’t keep being quiet anymore.

“I am just worried is all. It always happens when you leave for missions like these.” He admitted, forcing a smile so you didn’t see all of his worry. You frowned a bit.

“You know you have nothing to worry about. I am a warrior. I always have been. When have I not come back from one of these?” Your tone was more of a “duh” tone. It didn’t ease Neteyam’s fear though.

“You never know what can happen, though.” He quickly make his defense. Instead of meeting your eyes, he just continued to work away at your hair.

“I suppose I do not, but you trust me, right? You trust your father. He would not send me into something dangerous.” Of course, Neteyam trusted both of you. It was the Sky People he had no trust in. He had seen them fight and the way they always had the upper hand with their crazy machine guns.

“Of course, but I am even not going. Is that not saying something?” He made a face and you were unsure what to say.

Neteyam finished off the last of your braids. The ends jingled together with the beads he added in. They were some of his own and he smiled at the fact that you two were going to match.

He turned you around and dipped his fingers into the bowl of paint beside his leg. You stayed still as he traced it around your face. He thought how jealous Lo’ak would be that you got to wear the war paint he didn’t on missions.

The two of you were silent. The feeling in the air changed ever since you didn’t know how to respond to Neteyam’s last statement.

You stood to look at yourself in the mirror when your face was done. The blue and yellow streaks went down your cheeks and around your eyes.

“Here, do not forget these.” Neteyam stood with your riding visor. He gently reached up to hook it around your ears.

You never flew with a riding visor, but then Neteyam made you one because he was worried about the wind drying out your eyes. You had happily accepted his very thoughtful gift and ever since then, you never rode without it.

“I am a warrior. I will make it back.” He felt comfort in the way you squeezed his arm. Your gaze was on him with a reassuring expression.

“I know you will. I just worry about you.” He cupped your face into his hands, bringing you towards him more.

“I have been doing this my whole life. I have my transmitter, too, so you will be able to listen in.” You placed the collar just above your necklaces and then hooked the earpiece into your ear. Neteyam remembered how thrilled you were when Jake gifted it you.

“We’re off in five minutes, everyone. Be ready!” Jake spoke through your ear. You glanced towards the opening where others headed out to their ikrans.

Neteyam brought your forehead against his. He closed his eyes, breathing you in and savoring every single detail about you just in case.

“Good luck. Be safe.” You smiled at his Earth phrases and brushed your hand along his cheek.

“I will see you soon.” He brought you in for one more kiss. His lips worked a bit rough like it was the last kiss he would give you. He was worrying that much.

You were the one to pull away, knowing you had to be out there very soon. He leaned into your touch when you kissed his cheek and then hurried out of his grasp. Neteyam hurried outside of your hut to watch you take off.

His dad took the lead as he dove off the cliff first. You were quick to follow, disappearing from his view almost immediately. Others in the clan who stayed behind clapped for the war party. Neteyam’s worry was only piling higher in his stomach, already anxiously awaiting your return.

—

Hours felt like days in his mind as he paced around his own hut. Tuk was in the corner playing with her toys and Kiri eyed on her older brother as he paced.

“Brother, you need to stop worrying so much. You know she will make it back. Y/n is very strong.” Kiri tried reassuring the anxious boy in front of her.

“I know, I know. This mission was a dangerous one, though. Dad did not even let Lo’ak and I go, yet he had Y/n go?” The logic still didn’t make much sense in Neteyam’s head. He wasn’t trying to discredit your abilities, but if you were going, he should’ve at least came along too.

“You have to remember that Y/n has been a warrior her whole life. Even when she was a kid. She was out hunting when she could walk. This is in her nature. Your father knows that and he knows she is a very useful asset to this mission.” His mother piped in from the other side of the hut. He didn’t even known she was listening to the conversation.

“Yeah, what mom said. She’s been fighting like this her whole life. She knows how to handle herself.” Kiri added on.

“Yeah, plus, she doesn’t always need you at her side and call.” Lo’ak had piped in now and Neteyam glared at him. Since when did his whole family become involved in this conversation.

“I am just trying to protect her.” He said in defense to what his younger brother said. Lo’ak just shrugged.

“Ma son, I know it is scary to not know what is happening, but we need to trust the Great Mother and everyone on that mission. They know what they are doing.” Neytiri squeezed Neteyam’s arm for comfort. The boy sighed, but nodded.

As if on cue, people started shouting outside of their hut. In the distance, ikran calls filled their ears. Neteyam instantly knew what that meant—the war party was returning. Everyone in the hut ran outside to greet them and check for any major injuries if any.

Jake’s ikran landed roughly atop the rocky cliff. You flew in not a moment later. The crowds were thick around the edge and it was hard to truly see what was going on. Being as tall as he was, Neteyam still could not see that well past the others trying to get a closer look.

He did not know where you were. You must have gotten down from your ikran, because it’s back was empty and there was no sign of you. Neteyam tried to push through some of the crowd, but it wasn’t much use because no one wanted to move.

“I heard it was bad. Many people were injured.”

“I can not believe he let that little girl go on such a dangerous mission.”

“This was one of their toughest missions yet.”

The words floated around his head as he heard people muttering to one another. He tried not to picture the worst for you. You had made it back, he knew that, but were you severely injured? Neteyam’s heart was practically beating a hole in his chest trying to find you.

Finally, he caught sight of some familiar braids and war paint near the edge of the crowd. He recognized Tsanten and Ni`awtu at your side hugging you.

“Y/n!” He finally was able to break out of the group. He hurried to you, joining in on your siblings’ group hug. He felt the way you clutched the back of his head with one hand and the other held onto his arm with a firm grip.

“Are you okay? Are you injured?” Neteyam pulled back to back to examine your face for any injuries.

Despite the minor cuts and scrapes, nothing looked too alarming to his knowledge. You had a pretty large gnash on your back, but it wasn’t bleeding out profusely or anything.

“No, I am not injured. Just scraped up.” You gave him a tiny smile. He was glad he got to see that again as he cupped your face and placed a quick peck onto your lips.

“Come on, I am sure Mo’at has medicine for these cuts.” You let Neteyam lead you away from the crowds and back to the huts. He sat you down on the ground and then disappeared to find his grandmother.

When he returned he had a handful of herbs, creams, oils, and bandages in his arms. You giggled at the sight.

“I did not think you were much of a healer.” He dropped everything at your side and then kneeled down to your level.

“Well my grandmother is the Tsahik after all. I happen to know one or two things.” Neteyam argued, his lips dancing with a tiny smile.

He gently worked to take your visor off and then wiped away the war paint. He knew you didn’t like to talk about the missions right away, so he enjoyed the comfortable silence between you two instead.

Neteyam’s hands were gentle as he rubbed the special herbs against your skin. You would occasionally hiss when it hurt a little bit more and he would mumble something about how he was almost done and you were doing so well.

He certainly wasn’t a healer like his grandmother or Kiri who had a special hand at medicine, but it meant a lot to both of you when he would heal your wounds for youor, when you would heal his after a long hunting day.

“Many, many people got hurt today.” You spoke after some silence. Neteyam hummed behind you.

“It was that bad?”

“Their machines are just so powerful. We are no match with our bows and arrows sometimes. They had to have known we were coming because they attacked back at us so harshly.” You shook your head some and Neteyam knew there was vivid images replaying in your mind.

“It is so hard to understand why they want us dead. If they were just a bit kinder then maybe there could be more peace worked out.” You continued on with your little rant, frustration becoming set in your body language. Your shoulders fell tense under the Sully boy’s hands.

“You know how hard they have tried with us. Someone always gets hurt. I suppose after all the failed efforts they have no other choice but violence, unfortunately.” Neteyam knew all about the schools his mother once attended in her earlier years. It seemed like the Sky People tried making an effort, but nothing ever held permanently.

“I know, it is just so frustrating. Tsanten and Naria are growing to that age where they will be old enough to go out on their own. I worry for them and what those demons could do to them.” A scowl sat on your face. Neteyam turned you around, cupping your face in his hands.

“I know how terrifying it can be. I worry for my siblings everyday, but you are very strong and you will be able to teach them well.” You smiled, but it didn’t stay for long as you casted your gaze away from him.

“I just wish I was not the one to always do it. My parents pay no attention to them anymore. They are always away. It should not be my job to teach my siblings every single life skill they will ever need.” You pushed yourself up from the ground, leaving Neteyam’s grasp.

He watched you wander to the entryway where you stared at the people moving about outside. Many were still tending to those who were wounded more worse than you.

Neteyam wasn’t a complete open book, but when he was with you, he felt comfortable enough to share the things bothering him the most. You, on the other hand, had a more harder time opening up to him. He knew you trusted him, but he couldn’t pull everything from you. He knew you parents were strict and absent people, always being away, which is why you held so much responsibility and burden. However, he didn’t know much more than that. You always closed it off.

Hearing what you were saying now, though, it was more than what you would usually say. Neteyam got up to join you at the entryway.

“You are right, it should not be your job, but unfortunately it is. You do a great job at teaching them and raising them.” His hand fell against your back. You leaned a tiny bit closer to him while your gaze was on Foana and Tuk a few feet away.

“I worry that they think I am too hard on them, but I am really just trying to help them survive on their own.” In that moment, Neteyam realized something. His whole life, his parents taught him how to hunt, fish, make kills, but their biggest motto was “Sully’s stick together.”

While yes, he was learning things on his own, he was also learning that he wouldn’t have to be alone because his family would always have his back. You did not have that.

You were the one who would always have your siblings’ back, but they wouldn’t always necessarily have yours. You were teaching them to survive on their own, not to depend on one another like he was taught growing up. Independence was a key feature of your family dynamic. Dependence was the key feature of his family dynamic.

“You are not too hard on them. You are doing what you know and hoping they will learn it too. It is a great feature to know you will always be dependable for them. However, you can always depend on me if you ever needed something.” You met his gaze and Neteyam smiled warmly at you.

“Your words are too kind. Thank you, my love.” Neteyam’s ears perked up. He had never heard that nickname before from you. You giggled upon seeing his surprised reaction.

“No, thank you, pretty girl.” He engulfed his arms around your shoulders to bring you into his chest. You chuckled and he knew you didn’t quite understand his nickname he gave you, but it didn’t matter.

He thought that maybe you going out on these missions weren’t so bad as long as he was the one to patch you up afterwards—and he always was going to be the one patching you up every. single. time.

FOUR.

Neteyam ventured out on a day-long hunting expedition with his father, brother, and even your own little brother. You remembered how excited Tsanten was when Jake approached him one night to ask if he wanted to tag along to get some pointers from the older guys.

It warmed your heart to see Neteyam’s family being so welcome to your own. Tsanten didn’t have your dad to take him out like this, so being able to finally go out was like a dream come true for him, especially with the Olo’eyktan.

You had a pretty slow day considering Neytiri decided to take Tuk, Kiri, and your other three sisters out for what she liked to call a “girls day.” She extended the invite to you, but you figured with everyone out of the hut was a great opportunity to get some cleaning done.

With a job that would usually take hours, it only took about two and you were done by noon. Toys were put away; the rug was cleaned; things were put back where they belonged—the entire hut looked spotless.

You ended up venturing over to the Sully residence to see if Neytiri and the girls returned yet. You thought it was empty approaching since it was practically silent until you saw Mo’at sitting near the back grinding some of her herbs together.

She caught your eye before you could walk away. You had never really spoken to the Tsahik before. Most times, you would send your siblings in if they had gotten hurt and waited outside for them. You knew she was a woman of few words despite being so highly respected within the clan.

You bowed to her.

“You must be Neteyam’s…oh what do they say..girlfriend?” The older woman cracked a tiny smile causing you to flush.

“I suppose so, yes. I apologize for interrupting you.” You nodded to her bowl of herbs. She waved you off though, beckoning you inside.

“I come here sometimes to get away when I want to be alone. There is always someone bursting into my hut needing fixing.” You smiled a bit, sitting down beside the older Na’vi.

“I understand. It is always nice to get away sometimes.” She smiled, glad you understood her.

You felt a bit strange being in Neteyam’s home without him there. Ever since the family dinner, you had only been over a handful of times, so being here alone with just his grandmother was definitely different. The usual organized chaos that filtered through his home was replaced with tranquility as the day grew shorter.

“You are a hunter and warrior correct?” Mo’at spoke up again. Flushing that she knew that about you, you nodded.

“Those are very useful skills to have as a Na’vi like you. I am impressed, especially with how much my grandson tells me about you.” She waved her finger around. You were sure that if Neteyam was here he would be embarrassed she had said that.

“Thank you, Mo’at. My parents grew up that way, so they raised me the same.” Your parents had always been die-hard warriors, so it was practically in all of your blood to become just like them one day.

“I do not see your parents around as often as I used to.” Who knew the Tsahik knew so much about your family. You scratched the back of your ear to find some excuse that didn’t sound horrible to tell her.

“They are always on hunting trips. They like to travel a lot.” Not a complete lie, but not exactly the entire truth.

“I see, I see. They always seemed to be very ambitious people.” You nodded. Yes, ambitious was certainly one way to describe them.

“It is mostly just my siblings and I around the hut. They like to take very long hunting trips.” Mo’at nodded once again.

“Yes, Neteyam says that you are the main caretaker of your siblings.” You flushed again. How much was Neteyam actually talking about you when you weren’t around? A lot, apparently.

“That task can be rather daunting, but he says you handle it very well. All of your siblings seem like very respectful people.” She continued before you could respond. You smiled. That compliment meant a lot coming from Tsahik of the village.

“Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.” She grinned at you while continuing to crush and grind away in her little bowl.

“Would you like to try?” She looked down at the bowl. You flushed realizing she was asking you to help grind up her herbs.

“Oh, sure.” She switched places with you and you began doing exactly what she had done. You crushed them down into tiny little bits and pieces.

“This could be your job one day.” Mo’at eyed you as she added in another handful. Your entire face deepened into a darker shade of blue.

“Oh..I do not know about that. Maybe?” You liked Neteyam a lot, but you two were teenagers still. His selection for a mate was still so far away and he would not become Olo’eyktan for quite some time.

“You like my grandson, no?” For a woman of few words, Mo’at seemed to have a lot to talk about with you.

“Yes, I do. He is a lovely young man.” You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw her grin from the corner of you eye.

“I do not know much about..what does Jakesully say..teenage love, but I know my grandson likes you a lot. He talks and talks about you so much. I know it can be scary stepping into that kind of love, but I usually do not steer wrong when I watch my children fall in love. I was not wrong about Jakesully and my daughter.” Hearing all of this coming from Tsahik meant so much to you. You held a lot of respect for the older Na’vi and now she was sitting beside you giving you advice about relationships like you were one of her own.

“Your hunting and warrior skills matched with your caretaking skills would make a wonderful Tsahik one day if that is what happens.” She squeezed your arm and everything in you felt so warm and comforted. No one had ever said things like that to you before and hearing it from Mo’at made it even more special.

“You are too kind. Thank you.” You flushed for the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. Mo’at grinned once more.

“I know a kind soul when I see one. Eywa would not have brought you and Neteyam together if she was not wanting you two to be together in that way.” Obviously, Mo’at would know best when it came to Eywa. You smiled, glancing back down at the herbs.

Maybe one day this would be your fate.

—

Neteyam returned from his day-long hunting trip exhausted and ready to collapse into his hammock for a long nap. His mother was there to greet him with a kiss to the cheek and to his surprise, his grandmother was sitting inside eating her bowl of food.

“Hello, grandmother.” He bowed to her and she nodded back.

“Hello, my grandson. How was the trip?” Neteyam shrugged some, dropping his belongings to the ground for now. It was as best as it could be with Lo’ak being his usual self plus an added friend along for the ride.

“It was very informative. Father gave us great tips.” That part was not a lie. Jake always gave his sons great pointers for making their kills.

“That is great, I am very glad. I had a nice visit with your Y/n today.” Neteyam’s eyes widened a bit.

“You did? When?” He suddenly worried his grandmother told her embarrassing things about him or exposed how he would talk about her all the time.

“She stopped by here looking for you, I think, but I was here instead. I offered inside and we had a very nice chat. She is a wonderful young woman.” Neteyam couldn’t help but smile hearing that. You were amazing. He was glad to hear his grandmother liked her as much as he did.

“She would make a very wonderful Tsahik one day. She has nearly every skill necessary without even having much training for the position.” Mo’at eyed her grandson. Neteyam’s entire face flushed, but he also felt a sense of pride. You were great at nearly everything, he wasn’t surprised Mo’at thought that.

“Well, I hope one day it will happen. We are still young and—“

“Tsahik knows everything, son. It will happen.” Neteyam watched his grandmother beam at him widely. He flushed once more and then tried to hide the smirk forming on his lips by looking away.

In his head, he knew you were the one for him, but that was never definite. Hearing his grandmother basically confirm it was enough for him. You were it for him. Through and through.

FIVE.

You hadn’t snuck out during the night in awhile. Neteyam suggested it would be a nice way to get your minds off of things and just be with each other for a bit since your siblings were always interrupting or needing something.

Neteyam swung along the oh so familiar path to the tree he had taken so many times before. Eclipse had just begun and every time he was so amazed at how the forest lit up around him. It made Pandora that much more magical.

Like always, you had beaten him to the spot. Except this time, you weren’t alone. Your ikran was perched a few feet away and you had your riding visor on. Neteyam grew suspicious, but you only grinned at him.

“I thought we could go for a ride. We haven’t flown during Eclipse in so long.” You freckles were glowing and Neteyam could see the large smile on your face and your eagerness to fly.

“I did not bring any of my things and I only have my—“ You cut him off by revealing your hands that were hidden behind your back. You held his riding visor in your hands.

“I knew you would say that, so I planned ahead.” Neteyam could only smile at you. You always thought of everything.

“What if we get attacked or something?” Neteyam was still skeptical. He loved riding at Eclipse with you, but he felt under prepared if anything happened while you two were out.

“Nothing will happen, I promise. If it makes you feel any better, I have my bow. Come on, we have not ridden in so long.” You were tugging at his hand and he couldn’t resist your pleas. He took his visor from your hands and smiled.

“Okay, fine. Let’s do it.” He would do anything to be able to make you smile like you were right now. He called for his ikran while you hopped up on yours.

Once you two were both on, you exchanged a glance. There was a playful smirk on your lips as you pushed your visor down. Neteyam grew curious of the look.

“Last one to Ayram Alusing loses!” And then you were off before Neteyam could even process what you had said.

He quickly took off with you already five paces ahead of him. He had no idea how you gained so much speed already while he struggled to even pick up momentum. The wind blew against his face, making it burn some of his skin that was not protected. It was definitely not working in his favor tonight.

“You are losing, Neteyam!” He heard you call from ahead of him. He growled some and focused all of his energy into catching up to you.

He was finally able to catch up to your side. He smirked over at you.

“Who is losing now?” He teased and pushed ahead ignoring the harsh breeze as best as he could.

The two of you soared through the sky, the Hallelujah Mountains just ahead. Neteyam had the lead, but you were just on his tail, literally. If you reached out, you could probably touch the end of his ikran.

You had a competitive spirit, so there was no way you were letting yourself loose to Neteyam. From his peripheral, he saw you creeping up on him.

“You can not win everything, Y/n!” He called over to you, but there was something in your eye telling him you were definitely not losing this round.

He tried focusing through the bond to get his ikran to pull ahead as the first two mountains came up. However, you blew right past him like magic and crossed the imaginary finish like. Neteyam sighed in defeat as you pumped your arms up and down for another victory.

“I told you I would win. You do not win against me.” The eldest Sully still smiled nonetheless, enjoying seeing you so happy. He would lose a hundred times to you to be able to see you as happy and carefree as you were right now.

“My apologies, I should have known I had no chance.” Neteyam held his hands up in surrender. The little smirk continued to dance on your lips as you took off to keep flying around the mountains.

The boy stuck close to your side, the two of you smiling widely as you weaved in and around the large rock formations. You would occasionally dive over the larger branches hanging out to make it a game.

Neteyam felt like his parents where he knew they still snuck out at later hours of the night to do this. It was so thrilling, yet so relaxing at the same time. The breeze had finally died down and it no longer felt like bullets pelting his skin as he rode.

“You want to rest here? There is an open spot.” You pointed up ahead at a clearing in one of the mountain tops. Neteyam nodded and followed you to the landing.

You jumped off your ikran, taking in your surroundings. The entire area was glowing its bioluminescent glow. Each flora, leaf, tree moss, everything was shining bright acting as the light in the dark night.

“That was easily the best ride I have had in awhile. What about you?” You flipped your visor up and turned to Neteyam. In a swift move, he snaked his arms around your waist to bring you closer.

“That certainly was a great ride, but maybe next time you will lose the race here.” He grinned and earned an eye roll from you.

“In your dreams. You may be future Olo’eyktan, but you can never win against me.” You shook your head and Neteyam only chuckled.

“And you may be future Tsahik one day, so that competitive nature may need to die down a bit.” He smirked and your face flushed. You broke away from his grasp to look up at the blue-purple sky.

“Your grandmother speaks of the same thing.” You smiled, thinking about your time with Mo’at a few weeks ago.

“Is that what you two talked about that one day?” Neteyam questioned, always wondering what his grandmother could possibly be saying to you when he wasn’t around.

“She is a very kind lady. She knows what she is talking about.” You laughed some. Neteyam cringed knowing she definitely embarrassed him during that conversation.

“Did she say anything about me?” He had to ask even if he didn’t want to know.

“Oh, so many things. She loves you.” You found a comfortable spot against one of the trees to stargaze. Neteyam joined you.

“Anything embarrassing?” Your tiny giggle told him all he needed to know. He internally face palmed.

“If I told you, it would ruin the fun.” You grinned and Neteyam knew that Mo’at definitely embarrassed the shit out of him. Wonderful.

“Well, I am serious about your future Tsahik fate. Just think, you and I head of the clan one day. It would be perfect.” Neteyam threw his arm around you and you giggled at the image appearing in your head.

The Sully boy pictured it too. It looked very similar to his mother and father right now. You would still be a warrior while also caring for the people when they needed it. He would wear the large feather chest piece and headpiece his father wore—planning hunting trips, war parties, overseeing the entire clan. The future was so close yet so far. He knew it would be before him soon.

For now though, he wouldn’t worry about that and enjoyed the time he was spending with you by his side. It was enough waking up in the early hours of the morning, spending hours on specific skills, he didn’t need to wish it upon himself right now.

“Well, if it does happen, at least the people seem content with your choice of..me.” You giggled at your wording. Neteyam smiled.

“It is a miracle no one has talked much. I think they know my father will be at their throats considering I am their son if they did say anything about you.”

“I knew it would be fine. You worry too much sometimes, you know.” You poked at his chest, making him squirm away from you.

“I am merely just caring about you. It is not worry.” Neteyam attempted to defend himself, but it was clear he had a weak defense.

“You also worry. Do not be afraid to admit it. It is charming knowing you worry so much.” Another grin came from you.

“Well of course I am going to worry and care. It is who I am.” You pulled him back towards you so he could cuddle into you.

“And I love who you are.” You cradled his head, pulling your hand through his pretty braids.

He almost said it. He almost had the courage to tell you.

Jake taught Neteyam the phrase when he once asked what it meant after hearing him tell it to his mother. Jake explained how it was much more intimate than I see you. It was something the Sky People would tell those they cared deeply for.

Neteyam had been wanting to say it you for ages, but he never thought it was the right time. He didn’t know how you would react. Would you freak out? Would you say it back? Did you love him? He for sure loved you, but he wasn’t sure if you reciprocated his feelings that much. He didn’t want to scare you with such a meaningful phrase. It seemed like the right time, but it also didn’t at the same time.

Instead, he nuzzled his head further into you and breathed you in. He savored the way your hair smelled—somehow it always smelled like fresh flowers. He listed to your heartbeat, nearly putting him to sleep. The moment was taking him over. It was complete bliss and comfort being in your arms.

THE ONE TIME HE SAID IT.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

You planned a cute little picnic in the forest for you and Neteyam. He was dragged out of his hut with instructions to keep his eyes closed or he would ruin the surprise. Your grip on his hand was tight as he was dragged through the forest, occasionally knocking his head against a low hanging branch you forgot to push out of the way.

“Y/n, that was the third branch. Where are we going?” He laughed trying to figure out where he was, but it wasn’t much luck considering he was blindfolded.

“Just be patient. You will love it.” You hoped he would love it. You worked to put it together all day yesterday, so if he didn’t like it you’d be damned.

Trusting you, Neteyam kept accepting hits to the head and scratches to the arm knowing it had to be worth it in the end.

When you two finally arrived at your destination, you pulled the cloth from his eyes. He squinted, not used to the bright light, but when his vision finally leveled out, he was in awe of what he saw.

The little clearing had been decorated with numerous vines that wrapped around each tree branch. Flower petals were scatted along the ground. It looked like something from his dreams.

“Surprise! What do you think? A picnic in the forest.” You held your arms out, excitement bouncing across your face. Neteyam was still speechless at the effort that must’ve been put into all of it.

“You did this all for me?” You nodded, leading him further in.

“Of course I did. I had some help from Kiri and my sisters, but you deserve it after all the work you have been doing.” You turned to him, grinning widely. Neteyam cupped your face trying to find the words to express his gratitude.

“You are the best person ever. Thank you, my love.” He pecked your lips and then went to see what you had packed for your picnic.

You joined him on the blanket Neytiri let you use while Neteyam immediately began eating anything he saw. You laughed at his actions.

“Someone has not eaten yet today?”

“Oh, you have no idea. I have been out since the eclipse ended training with my father.” You grinned, glad you could feed him.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

Since it was a spur the moment surprise, neither of you thought to bring any weapons with you besides the knives you always carried. It was a part of the forest only Na’vi went. There was no possible way danger could lurk around the corner or behind a tree.

“If you could come back as anything you wanted, what what you want to come back as?” Neteyam laid across the blanket staring up at the clear sky. Your head was beside his as you laid the other way. Your stomach’s were full of food and now you were just relaxing in the sun.

“Anything?” That was a hard question. There was so many things you wanted to be.

“Anything.”

“I think I would want to come back as an ikran. They are so beautiful and just imagine being able to go anywhere you wanted basically. Flying through the sky with your rider. It sounds like such a dream.” You adored your rides with your ikran and being one would be a whole other level you would want to experience.

“I think I would want to come back as one of the good scientists like Norm or Dr. Max.” Neteyam’s answer surprised you and even himself. Sky People were evil and even some didn’t fully trust the good scientists who stayed behind, but he wanted to know what it felt like to live as human.

His father told him and his siblings countless stories of his time being apart of the Sky People and it always intrigued Neteyam.

“I know it sounds crazy, but my father told us so many stories as his time as one of them. It just seems so interesting to me.” He continued his reasoning when you didn’t respond.

“I understand it. I think it would be interesting to live as them for a day.” It was strange to Neteyam. Sky People could live like his people whenever they chose to, but he could not live like them. There was no science to make human bodies for Na’vi people who wanted the experience.

He got a lot of exposure from Spider, but it wasn’t really the same. Neteyam wanted to see it, feel it for himself.

“I have just always felt human because of my father’s blood. Even though I do not have the five fingers like Lo’ak and Kiri, I still have half of his blood in me.” Neteyam tore his gaze to his hands. His long, thin fingers that were just like his mother’s and Tuk’s.

His parents liked to say he took on more of Neytiri’s genes while Lo’ak gained Jake’s.

“It is okay to wonder and want to feel it, Neteyam. You are half human, half Na’vi. It is good you are curious.” You reached up to caress his cheek and the boy leaned into your touch.

“It just feels wrong, though. The Sky People are demons. They hurt us. Why do I want to wonder more about them?” In a sense, he also felt guilt. He knew how much his mother despised those people and even sometimes Spider because he was one of them. Why should he want to know more when all they did was hurt people?

“Do not feel guilty for wondering. Your father was them once upon a time,” He grinned at your english phrase you used. Him and Lo’ak were definitely rubbing off on you. “And he is a good human. You can still wonder and want to be like them and still be good. Norm and Max are good Sky People. It is your blood, your ancestors. Do not feel bad for wanting to wonder.” Neteyam liked the reassurance you were giving him. He was worried he sounded crazy or something.

He was about to respond when his ears twitched for a second and he suddenly got a random chill across his arms. A faint rustling noise floated into his ears. He quickly sat up.

Normally, he wouldn’t have been so alarmed, but the way his skin started to crawl told him it wasn’t some animal lurking.

“Neteyam? What is wrong?” You sat up seeing his quick change in demeanor.

“Shh, be quiet for a second.” He held his finger to his lips. His eyes bounced around the area you two were in and he grabbed for his knife.

The rustling noise continued and it got closer to where you guys were. Neteyam grabbed your arm, making you stand up with him. His actions were frightening you because you didn’t know what was going on.

“Someone else is here.” He whispered to you. He felt his heart beating a bruise into his chest at the idea of someone else lurking close by.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

A noise and then an arrow was flying just above your heads. You screamed out of instinct and fear. Neteyam’s hand was back on you about to hide behind a tree. When he spun around, two larger hands with a much stronger grip grabbed ahold of the two of you.

You screamed again. Neteyam hit them with his knife causing a minor distraction. He spun away from the prying hands, until four more people emerged from the bushes, large guns in their hands. He suddenly stopped, knowing he couldn’t take them with just a knife.

“Well, look at what we have here. Looks like we crashed someone’s date.” Neteyam knew it wasn’t a true Na’vi by the way they wore full clothes and spoke in english to him. It was Avatars.

The one, tall with a buzz cut haircut, crouched down to be at his eye level. Neteyam hissed at him as he scanned his entire face with his eyes. He held his knife out for defense.

“I heard you talking a few moments ago. You said your father was from the..Sky People. Your father doesn’t happen to be Jake Sully, does it?” With the English Neteyam did understand, he knew this guy was bad and clearly had his dad on his radar.

“Oe rä’ä tslam nga.” (I do not understand you) Neteyam growled out. The avatar looked at him, quirking his eyebrow and exchanging a glance with his accomplices with him.

You continued to struggle in the hands that held a tight grip on you.

“If you tell me where your father is, I’ll let her go.” He nodded towards you. Neteyam only hissed at him once more, knife high, ready to strike.

“Or we can do this the hard way, it’s up to you. You are definitely your father.” The avatar man grabbed Neteyam’s hand. He examined his fingers, raising his eyebrow once more.

“Sure didn’t get his genes though, that’s for sure.” The others snickered around them. Neteyam pulled his hand back, unsure of what to do. If he went for a hit, they wound shoot and he didn’t want that to happen.

His eyes gazed over at you. You met his gaze, the same unsureness resting in your look. If you were scared, Neteyam couldn’t tell because you hid it well.

He couldn’t call in his dad because that would just lead this guy right to him. He was out of any good options.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

“All you have to do is tell me where your dad is and no one will get hurt.” Neteyam thought of an idea.

He slowly raised his hands in means of surrender. The guy looked at him, curious. Neteyam set his knife down by his feet and then slowly moved his hands to where his transmitter sat on his neck.

He pushed into the buttons and began speaking in Na’vi since these guys clearly didn’t understand it as well as he could speak it.

(Let’s pretend this is Na’vi because I can’t translate the entire conversation 😌)

“Dad, we’re under attack, I need help.” Neteyam glanced warily at the man standing before him who watched his moves carefully.

“Neteyam? Where are you?” His dad came into his ear, urgent and worried.

“In the forest where the open clearing is. Avatar men with guns. We’re surrounded.”

“We? Who is we?”

“Y/n and I. We need your help.” The guy wasn’t exactly picking up on what Neteyam was saying which was good. His plan was working so far.

“Okay, we’re on our way.” And then he was out. Neteyam knew two things after that: one, his father was a much better fighter than these guys were. He was Na’vi, he had years and years to adapt. He could take these guys out easily. Two, his dad wasn’t going to give himself up to this guy and if they could defeat him, it wouldn’t even be in the question.

“He is coming now.” Neteyam spoke in english so the guy understood. He quirked his eyebrow once more, almost surprised.

“Well, that was easier than I thought it would be.” The others chucked around them. Behind his back, Neteyam made a small hand signal to you that he hoped you would understand.

Suddenly, there was a screech. You had bitten the arm that was holding you. Neteyam used that distraction to grab his knife from the ground. He went for the guy’s leg.

You wrestled out of the grasp. The others went for you, but being the skilled warrior you were, it was easy to take them out. You swung your leg around, taking one out with your foot.

Neteyam slashed the leg of the guy and went for his gun. His father had taught him and Lo’ak how to use one, so he knew exactly where to go to blow the amo out of it.

He used his knife to slash another one’s arm. It was pure chaos. Blood sputtered every which direction and the others were trying to fire their guns at you two. You were quicker than them, though. You knocked them from their hands and kicked their legs out.

One particular cut Neteyam made went across the entire face of one of the avatars.

“Quaritch, we need to fall back. We can’t take this many losses right now.” One of them urgently spoke to the one Neteyam slashed the leg of.

“I need Jake Sully. I am not leaving without him.” He argued bitterly.

“We’ll come back when we’re better prepared! At least we know they’re close by.” He seemed to finally give in. He called something Neteyam didn’t understand and all of his accomplices began retreating back into the forest where they had come from.

Relief flooded through Neteyam. They were leaving and the both of you were still safe. However, his relief didn’t last for very long.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

He turned to you, a smile spread across his lips until he saw the way you clutched your stomach. Your hands were trembling as they slowly revealed what was happening. Your knife handle was sticking out and blood was dripping from your skin.

There wasn’t a smile on his face anymore. His relief disappeared and was quickly replaced by fear.

“Neteyam..” You sputtered, swaying on your feet. He was quick to catch you before you hit the ground.

“No, no, no, no, Y/n. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. Look at me. Look at me. You’re okay.” He was sputtering, clutching your arm and staring at the way your knife was lodged into your stomach.

“Why am I so warm? Is it warm?” Your entire face was losing color by the second. Neteyam, even though he tried not to show it for your sake, was panicking.

“You’re fine. It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. Help is coming. They’re coming to help us.” He knew better than to pull the knife out, but you were practically pouring blood everywhere.

“Am I dying? Is this what it feels like to die?” The blood loss was making you go into shock. Neteyam was cradling your head, trying to stay calm for you and himself.

“No, you are not dying, my love. You are going to be okay. You are not going to die. I will not let you die.” If he had his bow and arrow, maybe he would’ve been able to take down those other guys easier. If he had a better weapon, anything other than a knife then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

You were not dying.

Your breathing started becoming rigid. It was broken into heavy pants and you were sputtering again.

“If-if I don’t..If I don’t make it..Can you-will you take care of them for me?” Your siblings. Neteyam visibly shut his eyes for a moment. How would he explain this to Foana? Who would take care of them if you..no you were not dying.

“Do not say that. You are going to take care of them because you are going to live. My dad is coming. Everything is going to be okay.” It was mostly just so Neteyam would believe himself too. Everything was going to be okay.

His ears twitched and perked up when he heard sounds of ikrans coming. His father’s ikran came into view along with his mother’s. They landed and then rushed to where you two were.

“Dad! Someone put her knife into her. She..she is losing so much blood.” Neteyam’s voice broke that time. He couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Shit, shit.” Neteyam watched as his dad gently flipped you to your side. Luckily, there was no exit wound, but the blood kept coming.

“I-I do not feel very good. I-I-“ You were heaving at this point. Your eyes were glazing over and your entire skin had gone from a deep blue to an entirely lighter shade.

“Y/n, you need to stay with me. Please, please stay with me.” Neteyam cupped your face, trying to keep your eye contact with him.

“We need to get her to the village. To Max and Norm and Mo’at.” Neytiri had a look of pure horror on her face seeing you like that.

Your eyes couldn’t stay open much longer. The blood loss was becoming fatal. Neteyam began shaking you when he saw your eyelids drift closed.

“Y/n! Y/n!” He was in too much of a panic to even check if you were breathing or not still. He could not lose you. Not now.

“We need to get her to the village, right now. Neteyam! Are you with me?” His father was practically yelling at this point. However, his eldest son fell into what was his own shock.

He did not and could not move seeing your almost lifeless body in front of him. He didn’t process it as his dad lifted you up to his ikran. His mother had to pull him to his feet, trying to snap him back into attention. Nothing worked, though.

All he could think about was you. You, you, you. You were in love. His future woman. His future mate. You were the sister to his siblings. The sister to your siblings. You were their care taker. Who would..who would take care of them now?

He should’ve told you. He should’ve told you the other night on your night ride. It was so close on the tip of his tongue. Why couldn’t he find the courage to tell you then? What if he never got to tell you ever now?

Your body became so lifeless in his arms. Pale skin, gone eyes, blood nearly everywhere. This couldn’t be the end. There was so much life ahead for the two of you. Your future plans. He couldn’t possibly do it all without you.

His mother somehow managed to get him onto her ikran. She flew quickly through the sky after her husband who clutched your body tightly.

When they landed, you were rushed directly to Max and Norm. Mo’at was brought in to give you a heavy sedation medicine so they could pull the knife out without damaging anything serious. It was near chaos. No one but Mo’at was allowed where they were inside the labs.

Neteyam chewed on his bottom lip. Guilt, fear, anger, sadness, everything at once was eating him up inside. He figured he should be the one to tell your siblings what happened, so he did.

Their faces were enough for him to finally break down right in front of them. It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me. The phrase repeated in his head like a broken record.

All five of them sat on the ground of your hut hugging one another close. For a moment he hated your parents for not being here in this moment. They had no idea what was happening to their daughter right now.

Neytiri offered their hut to your siblings without hesitation to stay in.

Hours were ticking by it stated to feel like days to Neteyam. There was no word on the progress or your condition. It was merely a waiting game at this point. The knife was lodged deep and you lost a lot of blood.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

Mo’at finally emerged after what seemed like almost six hours where a large group had gathered outside of the lab doors—Neteyam and his family included. All of them deeply concerned about your well-being.

“The knife has been removed. She is stable, but she is sleeping still and will be for a few days.” A tiny bit of relief washed through Neteyam knowing the operation was at least successful.

—

The days went by and you had finally awoken. Once visitors were allowed, your siblings were the first to check on you, of course. Neteyam hung back, a bit anxious and nervous to see you again.

He felt so guilty for what happened. He could not protect you after saying countless times that he would at any given moment. His failure caused him to hang his head low and avoid looking people’s way when he went out.

Kiri, Tuk, and Lo’ak were the next group of visitors. Neteyam still hung back. Maybe it was fear that was holding him back?

Could he possibly look you in the eye again after seeing you with a knife lodged into you? Not really. His fear made him feel upset in a sense. Why could he not face you? You were his love, yet he could not find himself to step foot into the lab.

A few more days passed and eventually the doctors and Mo’at agreed to move you back into your hut for more comfort. Neteyam avoided the entire village that day, in fear that he would see you.

What was wrong with him? One minute he could not stop seeing you and now he was afraid to even make eye contact with you.

It made him feel even more guilty.

One night, he sat outside by one of the drop-off spots. His head pounded and every single thought he ever had was swirling around like a school of fish.

He didn’t feel another presence until he caught sight of his mother sitting down beside him. She had began recognizing his absent behaviors and his avoidant gazes anytime he was around people. She knew how hard this was on her son.

“Have you seen her at all?” She crafted her words gently. Neteyam shook his head.

“I cannot. It pains me and the guilt is eating me alive.” He grabbed his chest like something was actually messing with him in there.

“Well, she is asking for you. She is confused why you have not seen her yet. You should go see her, Neteyam.”

“I can not. Every time I look at her I remember the horrid images of the knife deep in her stomach as the blood seeped through. It was the worst part of everything. I promised her protection and I can not even do that anymore.” He wanted his mother to understand, but he knew she wound not. Not completely, at least.

“Neteyam, this is not your blame. You did everything you could and no one is blaming you. I promise you, son.” Her arm outstretched to bring comfort to her son. She rubbed his back, trying to get him to understand.

“Then why do I feel so, so guilty like it is my fault?” He pleaded for an answer. His mother tried to come up with as best of an answer as she could.

“When you care for someone as deeply as you do, whatever happens to them begins to feel like it is your fault. It is not your fault, though. You take the blame because you think there is no where else to place it. My son, you did everything you could. No one is upset at you or mad or angry. Y/n is not upset with you. Do not think that.” Neteyam’s head hung low.

“I think it will fix a lot of things if you go see her. You will begin to realize this was none of your doing or fault.” Neytiri urged once more and Neteyam knew he couldn’t keep refusing. He had to be mature. He was almost Olo’eyktan and he couldn’t even face his own injured (almost) mate.

“Okay. I will go see her.” Neytiri smiled, giving her son a nod of encouragement.

The Sully boy stood and turned in the direction of your hut. He started bracing himself—for insults? Anger? Sadness? Frustration?

The closer he got to you, the faster his heart would beat against his chest. From inside, he could hear your siblings talking and at times arguing with one another.

He tapped on the wood before pushing aside the flap that covered the inside. Tsanten and Naria looked his way.

“Neteyam! You’re here!” Foana was at his legs, hugging him much like Tuk did. He smiled down at the little girl.

“Hello, Foana. Tsanten. Naria. Ni`awtu.” He bowed before them. Their looks told him they had never been greeted that way before.

In the corner, Neteyam caught sight of your figure. You were sitting upright carving something when you finally noticed his presence in your home.

“Neteyam, hello. Come in, come in.” You urged him in further. He slowly went to you and your siblings filtered themselves out knowing you two probably needed some space.

“You look so much better. How are you feeling?” He questioned taking in your skin that returned to its usual blue shade. You smiled some.

“I am definitely feeling a lot better. How are you?” You took ahold of his hands. The questioned seemed silly to him considering he wasn’t the one who got stabbed.

“I am doing okay. I am not the one who got stabbed, though.” He stifled a small laugh. You rubbed at his fingers and he was just glad to be able to feel your hands in his again, not the lifeless feeling they once were.

“Well, I have not seen you yet, so I was making sure you were okay.” Neteyam grimaced just a bit. He felt guilty for not visiting you sooner, but he just couldn’t bring himself to face you in the state that you were in.

“Yes, I am okay. I am sorry I did not visit you sooner. I..I just felt guilty about all of this and I was being selfish with myself.” His head hung low, ears dropping. You grabbed his chin though, shaking your head.

“There is nothing to feel guilty about, Neteyam. You did everything you could. Eywa gave me life again because she knew my time was not over yet. This was not your fault.” Your words were reassuring. He forced a small smile.

“Plus, you forget how strong I am. I have thick skin. Literally.” You laughed this time. The joke was corny, but it made both of you smile.

You allowed yourself to pull Neteyam closer and he situated himself so his head laid in your lap. He closed his eyes at the feeling of your fingers raking through his braids. It was a familiar feeling he had grown to miss while you were recovering.

“Hey, Y/n?” You turned your attention to the boy in your lap.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” Neteyam’s heart was pounding, nervous for your reaction. He wasn’t sure if that was an Earth phrase you knew or understood, but he hoped it was.

A tiny smile danced on your lips. You caressed his cheek, leaning down to kiss it.

“I love you.”

The rest of the evening was spent wrapped in each other’s arms.

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